June 16th, 2003

Neville had been under a potion induced coma for just over two days, with Malfoy healing him as often as his own stamina would allow. Malfoy himself was survived on cat naps and Pepper-Up Potions.

Hermione observed cautiously, as the blond continued to surprise her. He was quiet and thoughtful when he tended to Neville, a side she had never expected to bear witness to.

Ron returned the next afternoon, covered in dried blood and looking defeated. Still, there was a quiet excitement in his features as he took Hermione in his arms again. They had stormed, raided, and overthrown Malfoy Manor. In the process, they had taken almost a dozen Death Eaters hostage, and as long as Neville pulled through, they suffered no fatal casualties.

If Hermione was honest, she had never expected him to be such an integral cog in the war effort, and perhaps that was unfair to him. Ron had never been given the opportunity to thrive, and now that he had stepped out from the shadows, he was proving to be more capable than she ever gave him credit for.

Ron didn't stay, not even long enough to share a bite or clean himself up. He was gone after checking on Neville and pulling Malfoy to the covered deck to fill him in.

Draco exited Neville's room, a barely-there sheen of sweat across his brow, which he wiped with the back of his hand.

"I think it's time," Draco said, wringing his hands like they were soaking.

"You do?" Hermione was skeptical. The injuries to his spine were serious and keeping him under gave him the best chance at recovering.

"Yes. But check his injuries again. I can feel the healing charm isn't taking as much from me anymore, I'm assuming he doesn't need it as much. If that's the case, I think we can wake him." He moved further into the room as he spoke, resting his hip against the edge of the tiled counter next to her.

"Alright. I'll check once this settles," she said nervously, gesturing to the cauldron, its blood-orange stew bubbling.

"Please tell me that's not dinner."

"Jerk." She poked him playfully. "More Pepper-Up."

"Your boyfriend coming back soon?" Draco reached across her and grabbed a green apple from the bowl on the counter, crossing his arm under his elbow and taking a giant, obnoxious bite.

Hermione bristled at his closeness. "I don't have a boyfriend, obviously."

"Obviously?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, obviously. I've been living here all by myself all these months."

"That doesn't mean you don't have a boyfriend. Weasel seems to think otherwise," Draco replied with a shrug. His lips smacked together, and Hermione found herself noticing that his lower lip was slightly fuller than his top. Interesting, though mostly annoying as he was chomping the food right in her face.

"Well, that's just—" Hermione stuttered. "That's ridiculous. Ronald's my friend."

"Oh, come off it! No need to pretend with me. I saw him rubbing all over your face the other night."

"He's just friendly. There's nothing going on… romantically. Jesus, does anyone have time for romance?" Hermione realised while she was speaking that she was desperately trying to make herself believe her own words. The unresolved issues between them lingered on and as much as she knew she owed it to Ron to discuss them, she couldn't. She felt terrified that by saying no she'd close the door on their friendship as well.

Draco took the last bite of his apple and launched its core towards the waste bin, which fell into it perfectly.

"I'm sure if the right guy came along, you'd find the time. Maybe everyone has been right all these years, and you really just are as clever as they say. Maybe you're smart enough to realize Weasel's not good enough for you."

Hermione felt a heated blush stain her cheeks as a protective rage bloomed in her chest. "It's not Ronald! He's lovely. I'm just…" The tail of her sentence trailed off, and she shook her curls out as she continued her endless stirring.

"Tell me," Draco said quietly, looking towards the stairs. It wasn't a demand or a goad, simply a sincere request that surprised her.

Hermione plucked her wand from the counter and cast Motus, and the spoon continued to stir in the cauldron as she took her hand away. "I just don't think that's meant for me anymore. Love, that is. I'm too… complicated? Broken? I don't know the right word, but I think maybe I'm meant to stay in this house alone forever." Hermione paused thoughtfully, avoiding his eye contact and gnawing on her bottom lip. "There's no reason I shouldn't love Ron. He loves me. He's willing to wait for me. He's a good person. But I'd know, right? I'd know if I loved him."

Draco snorted delicately, and Hermione swore she could feel the heat from his body through her jumper. "I'm not exactly the one to ask; not sure I've loved anyone other than myself." Hermione chuckled at that, knowing it was a complete lie. She'd seen the hurt in his eyes when he spoke about his parents, his mother in particular. It was clear he loved them. "I can't offer you much advice, but I can tell you that I have a feeling that you're no lost cause."

Her gaze flickered to his, his grey eyes soft and curious as they studied her. "Do you… you know? Have a girlfriend, then?"

His gave her a crooked smile. "In spying for the Order, trying to save my parents and my own tail, I haven't had much chance for romance myself. But ya know? I'm not giving up just yet either." Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she imagined the wink he gave her as he bit down into his lip. "Let me know when you're ready to wake him. I'm gonna go shut my eyes."

Hermione blinked a few times, trying to shake the tender moment into reality. Taking a deep breath, she watched in disbelief as he jogged up the stairs.

"What in the hell is going on?" she whispered to no one.

Sometime later, as her cauldron simmered, she returned to Neville's room and checked his internal injuries. Malfoy was right. He was getting better.

Still, there was something terrifying about attempting to wake him. She wasn't a trained healer – all of her knowledge was acquired simply from books she had lying around – and she wasn't sure what she would be met with or if they'd even be able to pull it off.

Her knuckles rapped lightly against the door to Draco's room, and she fidgeted from foot to foot when there no answer. With a gentle hand she pushed the door open and stepped in.

Draco was sprawled across his bed, clad only in his pajama pants, his shirt discarded on the floor next to the bed. Hermione boasted a rather curious mind, and she inspected the scars littering his torso. She reasoned that was her only motivation. Purely academic, of course.

Sprinkled across his torso were just over half a dozen stab wounds, puckered and pink from being healed. Without thinking she reached her fingers out and touched one close to his belly button.

As soon as her skin made contact, a jolt of static danced across their skin, and Draco's eyes flew open, his hand snatching her wrist as they gasped in unison. He studied her. His eyes were stormy and confused, but he wasn't angry.

"S-sorry, I shouldn't… Um, Neville's ready," she blurted and twisted her wrist. He released it, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and she took a step away. "I'm sorry," she repeated and rushed down the stairs without waiting for his response.

Hermione's eyes blew wide as she picked up a spare bit of parchment and fanned herself maniacally, hoping for the blush to fade from her cheeks before he joined her.

The creaking of the stairs behind her notified her she was out of time, and she clenched her eyes shut in embarrassment.

What were the chances that the quiet, thoughtful Draco was behind her instead of the regular cockly one?

"Granger, if you were interested in seeing me shirtless, you only need ask. I'm happy to oblige." She could hear his smirk, and she whipped her head around, quite ready to quip back at him, but her words stalled in her throat.

Draco stood at the bottom of the stairs, his shirt slung casually over his shoulder and each muscle flexed to reveal long, lean lines that disappeared into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Hermione's eyes widened as her mouth went slack. Her eyes lazily dragged down his body and she knew, logically, that she needed to say something and she needed to stop staring at his stomach. She did only the former.

"I, er… I was checking your wounds!" she replied with a haughty tilt of her chin and then grimaced; it was an awful lie.

"Ahhh, would you like a better look?" he asked and glided towards her.

"Shut it," she warned, pointing her wand at his chest. "And put your shirt on!" Her reason had returned and, along with it, her annoyance.

Draco chuckled to himself and lifted his shirt over his head, tugging it over his shoulders. Hermione stole one last glance and saw a bit of curly, dark blond hair peeking out from above his pant line, and she swallowed thickly before turning towards Neville room.

"Are you ready?" she called, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Born ready," he breathed in her ear seductively, somehow gliding up next to her silently, and she yelped before swatting at him with a playful smirk.

"Enough! Clearly the isolation is messing with your head. Neville needs you."

"Business first. Play later. Got it." He waggled his eyebrows at her obnoxiously, and she responded with a roll of her eyes before pushing past him and in to where Neville slept. She paused at his bedside, and Draco stepped next to her, their breath the only noise in the room.

"Renervate." Draco twisted his wand in a counterclockwise motion, pointing it directly at Neville's chest, and the pair of them jumped as a gasp fought its way through Neville's mouth. His bloodshot eyes burst open, and his hands clutched at his exposed chest.

"Neville! Neville, it's okay. You're safe." Hermione hands found his cheeks and stroked them calmly, beseeching his eyes to settle on hers.

"Hermione?" Neville's hands locked on her wrists, holding them to his face, and he stared frantically at her.

"Yes, you're at the seaside cottage. You're alive, and you're going to be fine."

Neville fell back against the pillows, and his eyes locked on Draco. The injured wizard's eyes blew wide, frantic, and a guttural scream clawed its way from his chest. With frenzied hands, he searched his wand, and Hermione thanked her stars she had placed it safely in the kitchen cupboard.

Hermione placed her hands on Neville's bare shoulders to push him back until his shoulders met the mattress.

"Neville! Listen to me. Listen!" Hermione's voice was near pleading as her hands pressed against his shoulders, trying to get him to relax. "You're going to injure yourself again, and that would really be a pain in our arses as we've spent the last few days healing you."

"He's a Death Eater! What are you talking about, Hermione? You need to get out of here!" Sweat formed at his hairline, and his entire body shook with fear, both for himself and Hermione.

"I can't explain it all right now. Some rubbish about clearance, but they brought you here so they must think it's okay for you to know about him. He's been working for the Order, and he's been here almost a month. He saved your life, Neville."

"What! Hermione, it's me. Neville. You may be under an Unforgiveable—"

She heard Draco snort over her shoulder at that, and her lips pursed as she realised that convincing Neville was going to be much more difficult than she had thought.

"You know me." She smiled at her dear friend, cradling his cheek once again. "Trust me."

Neville studied her, his eyes darting between her and her blond roommate. "I need to be briefed. Immediately. Can you send word to the Order?"

Hermione felt her jaw go slack; it was so unlike Neville to speak this way. But then, it was war, and who was she to pretend to know what he'd seen outside of this tiny cottage. It's not like she hadn't had the same reservations about housing Malfoy just a few weeks prior. She nodded stiffly and turned to Malfoy, only to find he was already on his way out the door.

June 17th, 2003

Hermione rested her palm against the wall just next to the door and listened with a frown as they argued.

"Listen, I didn't poison your blasted food!"

"And how could I possibly know that?"

"I just had a bite in front of you!"

"Maybe you've had the antidote," Neville replied stubbornly.

"Fuck, you're impossible. Starve, for all I care. Or wait for Granger to wait on you hand and foot."

Hermione hid a chuckle behind her fingertips as Draco stormed out of the downstairs bedroom.

"It's not funny," he growled at her.

"No, no, of course not. I wonder if you were a petulant child? Maybe this is karma?" she asked with a grin.

He simply mumbled something about stupid-sodding-Gryffindors and marched up the stairs.

June 20th, 2003

"You should give him a chance," Hermione mumbled, sitting cross legged at the end of Neville's bed and speared a bite of roasted chicken with her fork.

"I need to be briefed. Have you gotten ahold of them?" Last night Hermione had finally broken down and activated the coin they had given back to her. There had been no response since, and that was tearing her up. She desperately was trying to keep the fragile edges of her mind from chasing the what-ifs that accompanied their radio silence.

"Would it help if I told you he was delivered here by Ron and Harry?" Neville looked up from his plate with a curious expression. "He's been working for the Order for a long time now. The mission in which Luna was injured? They were trying to extract him, trying to get him out."

Neville's brows fell low over his blue eyes, and she sighed heavily as she be damned.

"He was the turning point in this war; he's done more than any of us could imagine. I'm not saying run off and be his best mate, but maybe don't accuse him of plotting your murder every other hour. I couldn't have saved you without him. He made himself sick and exhausted, barely slept, all just to heal you."

Neville's face pinched as he considered her, but he responded with nothing other than a disgruntled huff as he popped a roasted carrot between his teeth.

June 21st, 2003

"I'm not trying to be a git. But you're wrong."

"I am not wrong," Neville argued.

Hermione winced as she returned from the garden with a basket of herbs she'd just clipped. She placed her basket on the counter and resumed her eavesdropping spot near the doorframe.

"Golpalott's third law states that the antidote will be more than the sum of the antidotes for each separate component. Her fourth law states that the antidote must be taken in at least the same amount of the poison to be rendered effective."

"You've got them backwards," Neville said smugly.

"You're barking! I'll grab the damn book." The door swung open violently, and Hermione stared, her eyes wide in amusement. Draco regarded her with a flat, annoyed expression before marching past her and grabbing a book written by Cecila Golpalott.

He then stomped back into the room and slammed the door shut nearly on her nose, and Hermione allowed a small smile as she returned to her basket, plucking and sorting the herbs along the counter.

June 23rd, 2003

The unlikely trio sat around an enchanted radio in the sitting room as a man with a thick Spanish accent recalled the daring flying of Inigo Fuente Marero.

The Spanish Nationals were battling the French Colibris in a fierce game of Quidditch. Hermione had stated bluntly not two but three times that she didn't care about this blasted sport, but the two boys ignored her. Her lot in life, it seemed, was to be surrounded by silly boys obsessed with this silly sport.

The two would remark on the game and then settle into yet another discussion about how the only proper teams were in England and that once this war was over that would be made clear at the next Quidditch World Cup.

Neville and Draco had settled into a quiet understanding the last few days, and Quidditch seemed to be their only point of non-contention. They both wholeheartedly agreed on all things Quidditch.

The game dragged on, much to Hermione's severe disappointment, but it was interrupted quickly by the snap of Apparition.

Three shocked faces whipped towards the kitchen. Harry and Ron were standing there, side by side as always and for once not looking battleworn. Instead, they were smiling. Their faces fell slightly when they took in the casual scene that now included Neville.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione squealed and sprinted towards them, throwing her arms around their necks. She then realized just how long they'd left her waiting, and pulled back to slap at them. "What on earth has kept you! You should have responded by now. Is everything alright?"

"Better than alright! It's been a little quieter since we've been here last, but they've kept us busy. We've got some real leads after questioning the prisoners from the Manor," Ron stated proudly.

"Neville, we've come to collect you." Harry smiled, his eyes tight for a reason Hermione couldn' understand. "If you're up to return that is. Luna's dying to see you."

Neville clapped his hands together excitedly. "Well, there isn't much that would make me want to leave this extended vacation, but Luna would fall into that category. When do we leave?"

"Soon," Ron said with a frown, and Hermione's eyes studied the expression. None of it made sense. "If you want to wash up, we can go after. You'll be headed to the Safe House in Essex after this. Luna's there." Ron smiled tightly at this.

"Give me just a few minutes," Neville bounded up the stairs, a man reborn.

"Crucio didn't give him any troubles?" Ron nodded towards Malfoy.

"Nightmares, but he's doing alright with the Dreamless Sleep. I think Granger's got a case ready for him to take."

"I have some other potions too. We have an excess and luckily not many patients. You can take them into the field for quick fixes."

"Thanks Hermione." Ron sat down next to her, closer than normal, and her shoulders tensed briefly. Unwillingly, her eyes darted to Malfoy, who seemed to be staring at the pair of them until that very moment, as he moved his gaze to the floorboard between them instead.

"So, Malfoy," Harry said, "We've got news on your parents. Do you want to speak in private?"

"It's fine. She'll just pry it out of me later anyway." Malfoy smirked, but she didn't miss the tension rippling across his shoulders or the way his hands clamped together until his knuckles turned white.

"We captured Lucius," Ron said, and the room fell silent. "He's being… difficult, but we've got him."

Draco sucked in a harsh breath. "My mother?"

"She's still in. It's complicated," Ron offered, looking to Harry for support, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to comfort Malfoy.

"And what exactly does that mean?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and she could feel her heart quicken as the room electrified.

Ron squeezed his eyes shut, massaging the space between his brows. "It's not exactly something I'm looking forward to telling you, mate."

"I really don't fucking care," Malfoy snapped back. "Spit it out."

Harry jumped in then, sensing Ron's discomfort. "Apparently, You-know-who has taken a liking to your mother and is keeping her close. Closer than most." Ron and Harry shared a nervous glance. "He intends to take her as his wife."

"What?" Draco's eyes darkened, and she felt a chill run the length of her spine. "She's fucking married already!"

"Well, apparently You-Know-Who doesn't care much about the sanctity of marriage. I'm sorry, mate. We are going to get her out. I promise," Ron vowed, leaning forward towards Malfoy with tight pull to his brow.

"Lucius doesn't know where you are or your involvement. Do we have your permission to tell him you're safe with the Order?"

"Tell him whatever you want to get him to cooperate." Draco waved them off.

"Now, onto another uncomfortable matter…" Harry's eyes blew wide, and he stared at his intertwined fingers.

"Are all your visits so cheery?" Draco mocked, leaning back in his chair and carding his fingers through his hair.

"We figured Neville would learn about you being here. Unfortunately, he doesn't have clearance." Ron said sternly.

"We didn't tell him anything," Hermione interjected. "We only said that he was part of the Order and—"

"It's not safe for him to know about your location and your involvement," Ron said simply, as if nothing else mattered.

"Okay..." Hermione scooted over a spot on the couch and stared at her friends. "Well, he knows." She shrugged, her eyes darting between the three men in her sitting room. "Neville is fine; they're almost friends," she chuckled, "In a twisted sort of way."

"And that's brilliant. I'm glad that someone else can see that you aren't a total git," Ron said honestly. "But he's not trained in Occlumency. If he's captured, they can find you both."

Draco ground his jaw together at the precise moment that Hermione's heart cracked. Why was it that he could have nothing good? Not a parent, not a home, not a friend.

"We have to Obliviate him. He won't remember any of his time here other than waking up and us coming to get him when he comes down from the shower," Harry spoke softly. "We're sorry, Malfoy."

"Right, I'll just make my way outside while you finish up. Cabbage needs watering." Malfoy pushed up on his knees and rose to standing. "I'll see you around. Potty. Weasel."

Hermione glared at them when Malfoy was safely out of earshot. "Seriously?"

"It's not up to us." Harry raised his hands in defense.

"When did you guys start begging permission? This is a new development if I ever saw one," Hermione scoffed. They were the ones who acted now and asked forgiveness later. Yet here they were, tails between their legs and begging for permission from men they barely knew.

"It's not like how it was in school," Ron snapped, leaning forward. "This is war, Hermione. There is a hierarchy, and we've learned the hard way that the ladder is not there for show. Some people know more because they know better. What if a dozen Death Eaters showed up on your doorstep after capturing Neville? How could I live with that?"

She was silent for a long moment, unwillingly to allow a break in her anger, even if it was well deserved.

The tension shattered as Neville skipped down the stairs smiling and freshly groomed. "Okay, I'm ready! Where's Malfoy?"

The three of them shared a glance, and Harry rose with his wand out. Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "I always was the best with Memory Charms." She smiled weakly and gripped her wand.

Under the pale moonlight, Hermione padded barefoot out to the garden and found Malfoy sitting next to the Goosegrass. She slowed her trot when she heard him singing a faint, haunting melody she didn't recognise.

"When the moon is nigh,

Look for me,

When the moon is high,

There I shall be,

Do not shed a tear,

No, not for me,

The moon will guide you home,

Home, to me."

Goosebumps spread across her flesh, and she tightened the grip of the bottle she was holding.

"I didn't know you sang."

"I doubt there are many people who don't possess the ability to sing. Besides, your Goosegrass was fainting."

"Fancy a drink?" Hermione sat down on the warm earth next to him. "The boys said there won't be any missions for awhile. Can't hurt, right? Tonight sucked." She winced as she took a quick sip of the firewhiskey.

Draco gave her an amused grin from the corners of his eyes before snagging the bottle and taking a long pull.

"I have to agree with you there; tonight definitely sucked."

A/N: Ravenslight is my boo. Thanks for being beta extradorinare!

Sorry about the delay on this chappie! The more I work through this piece, the more insecure I get about it! I'm still plugging away and will update again soon :)