Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
"It's always about blood," Hermione said into her wand, as her otter patronus danced around the floor. "The wards are blood based. You need a familial link to break them. You need a blood relation to the Lestranges."
Draco sat on the chair next to her, shirt still discarded, breathing deeply as he listened to Hermione dictate her message to the Order. It had taken her less than two minutes after her eureka moment to find the information they needed in a book and send it to her comrades. After the message went out, those on the mission would receive news and the battle would commence.
His mind could barely focus on the ramifications of their blood ward discovery. There would probably be a fight; some would return, some would not. It didn't matter to Draco, he couldn't bring himself to care about the casualties on either side.
It suddenly felt like the war itself was insignificant.
The only thing he could think, the only thing he could conceptualize, the only thing that seemed to make sense was Hermione and the way her body had felt beneath his as he devoured her with his lips.
She had tasted better than he could've ever imagined, ever conceived of another human being tasting. Divine. Celestial. Ethereal.
She was like the forbidden fruit; so tempting that he'd be damned to hell forever for indulging in her for an instant. At this exact moment in time, refusing any wisp of regret, Draco knew that damnation was worth it to feel salvation for a second.
The power that radiated off her skin had enveloped him, magnifying the same feeling running through his veins, embedded in his blood from the magic transfer. His sinews screamed for her.
He had never possessed more magic in his entire life than getting to hold hers for a moment. The pureblood princess, wizarding royalty, the most powerful witch he would probably have the honour of knowing for his entire life.
He was so supremely fucked.
Sitting in that chair, watching Hermione speak to the Order after that…life altering moment, Draco remembered his mission. It's not as if he had forgotten; yet the precariousness of his position was suddenly centrestage, whereas it had seemed secondary over the past two weeks as he focused his energy on Hermione.
He was still a double agent. He still had orders to follow, for a cause he had spent the last three years inhaling with every breath.
He still had to bring Hermione back to the Dark Lord, without forcing her hand, with failure resulting in his death, certainly, and the deaths of his parents.
And yet.
He wanted to bring her back, in a way. He wanted her to be treated as royalty by people who understood and respected her power, instead of the Order's fear of everything she could do. He had watched them flinch when she entered a room, watched them relegate her to the sidelines when she was the most powerful weapon in their arsenal.
He wanted a world where he could sit next to her and she would understand who she was, hold the knowledge of all her pieces. Where she could see the kaleidoscope of magnificence of her history, of her being, and revel in it.
He wanted her to be treated as a princess.
He wanted her to be his princess.
And yet.
Something felt wrong in his gut as he looked at her, standing there glowing, unaware of her own sublimity. How could she not see herself as he did, or even as the Order did?
Whereas they saw danger, he saw potential. She was awe-inspiring; of the fear-inducing and miraculous sort.
As he watched her, he understood it in a way he had not before.
She would never come back to the Dark Lord with him. Not ever.
Maybe he had assumed that she would succumb with this new power, or the Order would push her away - but that was an errant, foolish thought.
She didn't care. Her power, her radiant power, did not change her hatred of pureblood supremacy. Draco knew it now more than he had ever before. Even if she knew who she was, she would not feel superior.
She would still feel like a muggleborn witch since to her, that's who she was.
And was there anything wrong with that, really?
The thought floated into his brain without request, swimming around his mind before he shoved it down - the consideration causing him discomfort that went deep, deeper than he would admit.
He focused his eyes on her once again.
And so, she would never turn on the Order, or help the Dark Lord uphold a pureblood society. She would never change sides. She wasn't like him. She would never be like him.
Her lineage would not change that. He was a fool to even consider that it would.
And so she would never come with him willingly. And he could not force her.
But he still had orders from the darkest wizard of all time.
Which meant, as aforementioned, he was so supremely fucked.
Hermione finished her message and closed her eyes. The otter danced around her feet for a few seconds more before disappearing in a flash. The message was sent. The other shoe had dropped.
After taking a deep breath, she allowed her eyelids to flicker open, meeting his gaze - green on grey.
Draco was lost for words. He looked at her, the impossibility of his task weighing him down, pushing him beneath the surface as water rushed overhead.
But he couldn't find it within himself to care because he was looking at her.
He held out his hand. "Come here," he ordered hoarsely, his voice caving in, submitting itself to the possibility of her.
"Draco," she started, hesitating, as she tried to rebuild her walls - denying him access.
He shook his head. He could not allow it.
"Please." Desperation saturated the word.
A moment passed - she complied.
She took a few steps towards him, pausing for an infinitesimal moment - as if considering all the options. It didn't last long, it was barely anything, but it sent his heartbeat sky-rocketing, almost cracking through his ribs.
But that reaction was nothing compared to the heat of her pursing her lips, tensing her jaw, and straddling his lap.
"We should think," she whispered, her hair tickling the tops of his shoulders as she leaned forward, the caramel curls brushing over his skin.
"Who says I'm not?" he replied, tilting his head up so his lips grazed her neck - close, he would have to move forward only another inch.
She shuddered.
"We need to stay aware," she whispered, leaning into him, pushing their chests flush against one another; her body and words were at odds with each other. "What if they send us a message?"
That wasn't a refusal. In fact, that was an opening
He smirked - he could work with this. "Well, we have time to spare until then." He gripped her hips.
He watched the moment of submission behind her eyes, a miniscule shift that offered permission. She began to lean forward as Draco gripped her back, fingers bruising her skin. They were so close - when a ray of light burst into the room, followed by a wolf patronus.
Lupin.
The wolf stalked around the room before stopping immediately in front of them.
"Thank you. Zabini is a second cousin of Rodolphus. We're going in." After it finished speaking, the wolf disappeared.
Hermione took a deep breath, and if by instinct, leaned forward to rest her forehead against his as she thought comfort in his arms. His heart stuttered. "It worked."
"Of course it worked," Draco replied, trying to keep his voice neutral, to shove down the flurry of emotions seeking to overwhelm him. . "I cannot remember a moment where you were wrong."
Something shimmered behind her eyes for a moment before disappearing - as the kaleidoscope of green closed, ice flecks falling into place.
Without so much as a warning, she dismounted him, reached down and grabbed her shirt to throw it back on.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked, his skin screaming at the separation. "What happened?"
"We can't do this," she stated.
"I thought we covered this already," he whispered, again trying for neutral but only achieving pained. "We…we have something here. Something powerful. Something we need."
That's what this was. Need. Animalistic, primal, elemental need.
"You're right," she whispered. "There's something here, and I'm not exactly sure what it is. And you're right, I… I want you. But, we just can't. Not here. Not now. Not on top of this table while everyone's on a mission."
"Is this about Finnigan?" Draco asked, standing up to meet her at eye level. "He's a bloody tosser." The words came out more venomous than intended, but he could not find it within himself to correct for tone.
"This isn't about Seamus," she replied, her voice measured as she referenced her lover - he was still her lover. "It's about us. Not now, Draco. Maybe not ever. It doesn't matter how…how you make me feel. There are more important things for us to deal with."
"So what?" Draco demanded, finally pushing past any attempt of neutrality. He wasn't neutral on this. He wasn't neutral on her. "There will always be a more important thing, we're in a war. But what's wrong with taking a moment for our bloody selves to feel like fucking human beings again?"
"Because it's not making us feel human," Hermione retorted, the words rushing out with the wind. "It's making us feel more than human. More powerful, like deities. That magic transfer…it screwed us over. We have this magical connection, and if we fall victim to it…I don't think we'll be able to fully return to being human. Maybe not ever."
As if scared of his reaction, the second the words left her mouth she reached down to grab the remaining articles of clothing scattered across the floor, and rushed from the room.
Draco remained, stunned, confused, and not sure at all how to proceed with anything. He stood, staring after her, holding himself back from following, and trying to understand what had changed so suddenly.
Her magic was still rushing through his veins.
She burned to the touch.
The Order returned the next morning. Draco heard them arrive from his room, where he had retreated to fall into a restless sleep. He waited a moment before descending, trying to gauge how the mission had gone. Upon not hearing screams or crying, he went down to the kitchen.
It was almost a full blown party. The retrieved wands were lying on the kitchen table, with every member of the Order present. No one looked terribly injured, only a cut here or there. Blaise stood at the center. Draco could easily see the cut on his arm where he imagined they had taken the blood sacrifice, but, more important to him at that moment was the fact that those arms were wrapped around Hermione.
After her retreat from the library the night prior, Draco hadn't seen her - she was obviously and deliberately avoiding him.
When Blaise let her go, she refused to meet his blazing eyes.
He tried to hide his reaction as the magic tried to push him towards her. He wasn't sure of his level of success. But luckily for them both, they were matters more important
Lupin hobbled to the front of the group. He looked tired and sweaty, but otherwise unharmed. "Merlin, Hermione," he started, bringing the younger woman into a hug. "Would we have ever been lost without you."
"What ended up happening?" Hermione asked, just as Finnigan walked up behind her and curled her into his arms. She did not flinch away or otherwise discourage it.
Draco couldn't help the flare of jealousy that erupted in his chest, like a dragon fighting against its chains.
If Hermione didn't want Finnigan touching her, it wasn't clear to him.
Lupin sighed. "We arrived quickly, but the wards were too strong. Until we got your message, we were sitting ducks. They could've taken us down at any time. But thankfully, Zabini here is second cousins with Rodolphus. All it took was a few drops of blood and we were in."
"What about Tonks?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's the most obvious relative I could see."
Lupin shook his head. "Bellatrix married into the Lestrange estate. Connections to her blood don't count. It had to be Lestrange proper."
Hermione nodded, frowning slightly.
"Since they didn't think we would be able to get any blood relatives," Lupin continued. "They only had a couple guards watching the wands. Didn't take us long to bring them down, grab everything and get back here. No one died, barely even injured."
"Thank Merlin," Hermione whispered, leaning her head back onto Finnigan's shoulder, sighing as she let her eye flutter close. "I was so worried."
"Us as well," one of the Weasley twins said, falling into a chair. "It wouldn't have been long before they realized we were there. God, 'Mione, without you we would have been so drastically fucked."
Finnigan nodded in agreement. "How did you even figure it out?"
"That's a good question," Lupin responded, raising an eyebrow. "What were you doing? How did you get the answer?"
There was a slight pause, and for the first time, Hermione turned to look at Draco. He stayed silent, trying to hide how her gaze affected him.
"It was Draco actually," Hermione answered. A murmur of surprise swept through the room. Draco watched the muscles in Finnigan's arms tense. "We were researching in the library and getting nowhere. But then…we started talking about blood, and pureblood supremacy, and it just occurred to me. The Death Eaters would never expect a pureblood to turn on them, that's why they all hated Sirius so much. So the one type of magic they would unilaterally depend on was blood magic."
Everyone turned to Draco. He tried to hold it together. "Yeah," he said, his mouth dry. "That's basically what happened."
Most people nodded at the answer. Finnigan looked annoyed, but not much more than that. Hermione turned back to Lupin to discuss the raid further, the Order continuing to regale them with the story. Draco tried to fade into the background, hoping that the group considered that to be his only role - in the background.
The only person who seemed to not buy it was his old friend. The look on his face said something else. Draco averted his eyes from Blaise's furious gaze. as the Order went back to discussing the mission. Not wanting to watch Finnigan hold on to Hermione anymore, he left the room quietly and went back upstairs.
He didn't need to turn around to feel Hermione's eyes follow him out.
"What the fuck are you doing, Draco?"
He looked up from the book he was reading. "I was wondering how long you'd take, Blaise."
It was that evening. He had secluded himself in his room, waiting patiently for this moment. Blaise did not let him down.
His old best friend was standing in the doorway, glaring at him. He strode in, slamming the door behind him, and sitting at the foot of the bed. Draco sat up, ready for the lecture.
"You knew I noticed," Blaise accused, crossing his arms.
"Of course I did, Blaise, I'm not a complete dunce."
"Could've fooled me," Blaise responded, his eyes ablaze. "Because only a complete fucking dunce would think right now is a good time to get involved with Hermione Granger."
There was a moment of silence.
"I think 'involved' is putting it a bit strongly."
The noise that escaped from Blaise was nearly a hiss. "You fucking prat. You're under asylum here, you could get thrown out at any moment, and you really think boning the pride and joy of this institution is going to do you any favour."
"We didn't bone," Draco muttered, feeling a flush on his neck as the memory took over his mind.
"I'm sure that wasn't due to lack of trying," Blaise replied, his tone an indictment. "I'm sure that's because Hermione, unlike yourself, is not a complete fucking dunce."
Another silence.
Blaise leaned back against the wall. "What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing? I get it, she's beautiful, but this genuinely can't be worth it to you. You're putting your own life at risk for a girl. I'm surprised Finnigan didn't smell you on her and kill you right then and there."
Draco started, unable to stop his jaw from dropping. "You know about Finnigan? I thought that was a hush-hush set up."
He snorted. "Please, everyone knows except Potter and Weasley. I was here for two days before I saw Hermione sneak into his bedroom. I asked the Weasley twin and he confirmed it. Everyone knew, no one cared, but no one told Potter or Weasley because, you know, of course not."
"They've been together a long time, huh," Draco realized aloud, more so then he had before.
"I think it's been a year or so," Blaise said, shrugging. "But it's not romantic, at least not for Hermione. It is, however, necessary. She needs it. Don't fuck it up. She's our only chance of winning this war."
His comment caused Draco to raise an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Blaise looked him dead in the eye and took a deep breath before speaking. "You know as well as I do, don't for one second pretend you don't."
Draco could feel the blood drain from his face as he was faced with a sudden obstacle he had not anticipated. "How long…how long have you known? Why haven't you told them?"
Blaise's eyes traced his face, searching for a reaction, for a sign of something. A level of nerves bubbled to the surface. Blaise had always been the one who could see through him. "I've only heard the rumours. My mum was good friends with Nott's aunt. I suspected it when I saw the mark. I knew it when I felt her power."
"And you haven't told them because…"
"Because it won't matter," Blaise snapped. "Hermione is a weapon whether she knows her heritage or not. And frankly, I don't want any more spotlights on her than there already are. The less she knows, the less danger she is in."
"But don't you think the Dark Lord would spare her if he knew?" Draco asked.
Blaise snorted. "You really are living up to your title of complete fucking dunce. No, he would use her for her power, and if she refused, he would kill her so she couldn't fight him. It doesn't matter how pure your blood is if you're on the wrong side."
There was a pause as Draco thought about his mission. The Dark Lord wanted to return her to the pureblood side so she could be with her people, not so he could use her… her death wasn't anywhere on the table.
"What's going on with you and her?" Blaise demanded, interrupting his reverie. "You have to know about her heritage, that's why you're interested in her."
"No, it's not," he responded. "I mean, I know about her heritage…"
"How?"
Blaise's tone was interrogating. He was treading a minefield; a misstep would break his facade into pieces.
He paused. "Narcissa, she told me the rumours about Celia and her child. I didn't realize it until I saw the eyes, and the mark."
"Okay, so if it's not the pureblooded-ness of it all, what is it?"
He pursed his lips, considering how much he could reveal - how much he could trust Blaise. It was an odd position, he had considered this man a brother, once. Still did, sometimes. But he was playing with fire; the flames were licking at his skin.
He had to disclose a bit of truth. Blaise was too intelligent to miss the signs that something was brewing between himself and Hermione. He could do that, divulge a piece of it so Blaise didn't realize it was a small section of the puzzle.
He sighed, trying to portray longing. "I mean, she's beautiful, you're right, but nothing happened between us until…until the magic transfer."
The intended reaction was achieved. Blaise gawked.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Draco sighed, before launching into the story, and surprising himself with how much relief he felt at sharing what had happened. After a few minutes, his old friend was shaking his head in absolute disbelief.
"Hermione's magic, all that power, is inside you as well?" he gaped. "How on earth are you alive right now?"
"It's like being on fire at all times," Draco said quietly, his moment of honesty extending longer than perhaps wise. "I can always feel her, at every second. I feel her when she's not here, I know when she walks into a room - gods, I can't even begin to explain to you what it felt like to be on top of her."
"No wonder you two can't keep your hands off each other," Blaise said, crossing his arms. "You two shared the absolute most carnal part of your lives. I can't even believe that Hermione was able to pull herself off of you."
"Me neither, honestly," Draco muttered. "I thought she…I thought she felt it as much as I did."
"It's not like you gave her any of your magic, that might make a difference," Blaise responded, his face thoughtful. "Or she might just have better self-control than you do. Actually…it's probably the second one. This morning, the way she looked at you, I was shocked Finnigan didn't kill you right then and there."
"I wonder if she's going to stay with him," Draco wondered aloud, trying to ignore the slight pain he felt at the thought.
Blaise shrugged. "The only thing we all know for sure now is that there's no way you'll turn on us."
He started, shooting his once friend a glare. "What the fuck, Blaise? Wasn't that already determined?"
The other man did not bend or break under his gaze. "I mean, we all had doubts. But there is no chance you'd turn on us now if there was even a chance of Hermione getting hurt. You're an extension of her now. She runs through your veins."
Like clockwork, as soon as Blaise finished speaking there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Blaise responded.
The door creaked open, and no one less than Hermione walked in.
The atmosphere in the room changed immediately, a slow-burn tension filling the air; it was smoke in an enclosed space. All-encompassing. Inescapable. Deadly.
"Hey Blaise," she said. Draco could almost feel her heartbeat. Her eyes shifted to his.
"Hey Draco."
"Hermione," he nodded, enjoying a little too much the sound of his name on her lips. "What's going on?"
"Sorry to interrupt," she started, averting her eyes to the floor. "I just had a conversation with Lupin I think you should hear about."
"What happened?" he asked, sitting up straight. It was as if Blaise was no longer there. Just him and her - with the storm rolling in.
She sighed, brushing a stray tendril of hair out of her face. "He came to apologize for not letting me on the mission since I was the one who figured out the wards in the end."
"Good," Draco said, more fiercely than he intended.
If Hermione noticed his tone, she didn't show it. "So it turns out he spoke to some of the other higher ups and they changed their minds. I can go on the next mission, mark be damned."
"They'd be better off with your power source anyway," Draco responded, even though the idea of Hermione facing up against Death Eaters made him more nervous than he cared to admit.
"But that's not all," she continued. "Since…since you were the one who helped me figure it out, they want you as well."
A beat of silence
"Come again?" asked Blaise, disbelief evident in his voice, as Draco gawked.
Hermione nodded. "I guess they've been convinced enough of your loyalty. We're going to be scheduled for the next mission together."
After a pause, Draco chuckled.
"And how does our old friend Finnigan feel about that fact?"
He did not know what made him say it, and almost regretted it the second he did. But when he watched Hermione's lips curl into a small smile, any remorse disappeared.
"I don't think today is the best day of his life."
Blaise looked between the two of them for a moment, appraising, observing. Eventually, he frowned. Rolling his eyes, he stood up.
"Don't be fucking idiots," he said, before leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
They were alone again.
"So," Draco started, unwillingly to uphold any pretense of neutrality. How things had changed so quickly. "Are we pretending nothing happened or shagging immediately? You just need to keep me in the loop."
The small smile morphed into a frown. "Don't do this, Draco."
"I don't think it's an unfair question," he responded, ignoring his steadily increasing heartbeat. "We know what we do to each other. Forgive me for wanting that feeling again."
She took a moment before sighing and walking over to the bed.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked, shocked, as Hermione lifted up the blanket and climbed under them with him.
"Please shut up," she responded, before cuddling into his chest. Instinctively, as if it was second nature, he wrapped his arms around her. "We can't…I already explained why we can't, but I need something. I need something here with you. So please, just shut up and hold me until my heart stops pounding and the fire calms down and we can exist in the same place without imploding."
"Hermione," he started, but she cut across him.
"Just give me that, since that's all I can give you."
And Draco, shocked but content to just be holding her against his body, was happy to oblige.
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