I'm really on a roll. (I'm on Xmas break which is really the only consistent time I have to write so I'm trying to do as much as I can while I'm in the zone)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The sun shining through the one small window in the corner woke them up.
Draco blinked several times, annoyed at the intrusion. Grumbling a bit, he rolled over only to find his path obstructed by the very asleep and very naked form of Hermione.
That's when he first remembered.
The night before exploded into his mind, the feeling of being on top of her, feeling her wrapped around him, the heat, the power, the magic, it all came flooding back.
Merlin almighty.
Draco was no beginner when it came to sex. But he would not insult what had happened last night by defining it with such a mundane word, such a commonplace act.
Last night was like being brought to another dimension and back. It was the closest he had ever felt to possessing magic in its essence.
Was it because of the magic transfer? Quite possibly. But Draco had a sneaking suspicion that there was something else at play here.
Hermione's heritage.
Having sex with her was like having sex with a god. According to magical tradition, she was the most powerful witch of both their lifetimes. In her blood she held the magic of Morganna le Fay.
He remembered what the Dark Lord had said to him, in what felt like years ago, or even another lifetime, but really was less than a month.
Morganna's blood was created of nothing but magic.
He had called her that last night. Moaning into her neck, he had said let the name slip through his lips.
He hoped she hadn't noticed.
At his side, Hermione began to stir a little, blinking her way into consciousness. As her eyes opened, he leaned on his hand to look down at her, desperately wanting to be the first thing she saw when she woke up.
What a concept that would be.
"Good morning, Hermione," he whispered, brushing his knuckles slowly up and down her arm, his hand grazing her skin.
Several emotions flickered through her eyes as they opened, most of which he could not recognize or distinguish from the sea of her irises.
However, one stood clear.
Calm.
"Good morning, Draco," she murmured in response and almost reflexively cuddled into his chest. He held onto her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her completely into him.
Her breathing slowed, and he felt the last bit of tension leave her.
"I take it," he whispered, his voice low. "Since you have not started screaming, you remember."
"Draco," she murmured. Her use of his name sent shockwaves through him. It wasn't as if she had never used it before, but the way her lips caressed each syllable after the experience of last night almost floored him again.
"I don't think I could ever forget it," she continued, opening her eyes and turning a bit to face him. "I don't think the Dark Lord himself could ever strip that memory from my mind."
"It really was momentous, wasn't it?" he whispered.
"I'm not sure I've ever felt like that in my life," she replied, her voice quiet, as if she was unsure whether to admit that fact to the air - let alone him.
"I know what you mean," he answered. "I mean, after this week, I had imagined it. But nothing like that."
He began to kiss the crown of her hair, murmuring as he did so.
"God, Hermione, the feel of you under me, with your magic shooting through my veins…"
"Stop," she whispered, her voice lacking any sort of conviction. He felt her shiver in his arms. "We have a mission to go on."
"At least give me this," he whispered, throwing care to the wind, turning her over and placing himself atop her. He began to kiss down her neck as she trembled at the touch.
"Draco," she said, her body humming against him.. "Where do we even go from here?"
"What do you mean, Princess?" he murmured, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling her up to meet him a bit. "I thought you said we had a mission to go on. We're still in a war, you know."
The look she gave him reminded him of their Hogwarts days, and he had to physically restrain himself from laughing.
"You know that's not what I meant," she replied stoutly. He could still feel her heartbeat, which continued to pound rapidly.
"I don't know, Hermione," he said honestly, choosing to brush a soft caramel curl behind her ear. "I think something has changed, though."
"Everything has changed," she replied, her words more solemn than she initially intended. "I don't think I can pretend that didn't happen, or that I don't want it again."
He smirked. "Not the first time a woman has said that to me."
She snorted. "Cut the crap, Draco. You know as well as I do that that was different."
He nodded. "It was irreversible."
She paused before speaking, her voice small and almost delicate - such a difference from the woman he knew.
"I felt complete."
Her voice was quiet, as if she was testing the waters, dipping her toe in the possibility of them, whatever that may mean.
Whereas Hermione seemed to be wading in slowly, Draco felt like he was already submerged - drowning in ocean waters, no shoreline in sight.
He lent down and pressed his lips to hers.
He had never kissed someone with more tenderness than he did Hermione in that moment. His lips moved slowly against hers, connecting them once again. He cupped her cheek and held the small of her back, praying his touch confirmed to her that he could not imagine being anywhere else.
The warmth radiating off her skin infected him, causing him to pull her closer until there was no more space between their chests. She intertwined her fingers in his hair, holding him with quiet resolution, as if nothing in the world could make her let go.
After a few minutes, Draco pulled back.
"I know what you mean," he answered, kissing her forehead softly. "It was as if all the magic you had given me had been clawing its way back to you for weeks, and we finally succumbed to what it wanted. Us, together."
"I don't know if this feeling means forever, Draco," she whispered. "Magic transfers are permanent. We both knew that when we made this choice."
"I know," he said, his voice more confident than he necessarily felt. Permanent. "And I think we will have more choices to make. But first, we need to survive this mission. We can't do anything before then. One step at a time."
"You're right," she muttered, before beginning to untangle herself from the blankets.
Draco chuckled. "Never thought I'd get Hermione Granger to admit that to me."
"Oh can it, you tosser," she snapped, throwing her clothes back on, a smile on her lips.
"Not what I had you saying last night."
She rolled her eyes, pulling her sweater back over her head. "One more thing, Draco. Until we figure out what is going on here, no one can know."
"You really must think I'm a tosser now, Hermione. I'm not that daft."
She laughed before leaning back over the bed and planting one final kiss on his lips. A parting gift.
"I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes. Wear mission clothes."
With that, she darted out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
As if she had never been there in the first place.
Draco stared at the closed door for several moments before gaining momentum to throw on some robes that Blaise had lent him. His brain was scattered in every direction. He was partly thinking about the mission. He would probably be going up against old comrades who didn't know he was a turncoat. Maybe his parents would be there.
At the very least, the concept of invading his own summer home was slightly absurd.
But beyond that, his brain kept returning to the night prior and Hermione.
She was right, they would have to figure out something. The magic transfer was not going away anytime soon, and he doubted that the feeling he got when they touched was going to stop.
But what did that mean realistically? They were still in a war and he still had a mission.
A mission that he no longer had any sweet clue how to complete.
What could he possibly do to convince Hermione to come back with him? No matter what was going on with them, with their bodies, with their feelings, with their magic, she wouldn't turn on her side for him.
For the first time, Draco considered doing the opposite. What if he just stayed? What was he really losing out on? He had doubts about the dark side winning the war. He had found himself a place to be within the Order, even if the foundations were shaky.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine a future in this building. Blaise and him could maybe rekindle a friendship. He could be with Hermione every night, even if no one else knew. He could forget the mission, forget her heritage, forget everything the Dark Lord had ever made him believe, and be content falling into her arms every night.
He could not imagine paradise beyond having her.
But then he remembered his parents, and the dream shattered.
He felt like he was in sixth year all over again; left with a mission he had no idea how to, or even if he wanted to complete, with his parents' lives hanging in the balance. What was he even fighting for anymore? It wasn't as if he was fond of the Dark Lord, or even his ideology.
The image of the young muggle girl with the braids flashed through his mind.
The image of everyone he had killed flashed through his mind in quick succession. The first had been two and a half years prior. It was his first mission after the Astronomy Tower fiasco. He had never before seen the man who raised his wand in Draco's direction, murder in his eyes. The curse left Draco's mouth before he realized what he was saying.
The second was two months after that. It was at Malfoy Manor. The Order was trying to free Ollivander, their first attempt of many. Even with his mask on, Draco felt as if these people knew it was him. More curses headed his way than others, as if these people, many of which he had gone to school with, knew that he was there. He cursed at random. A body hit the floor and he didn't even turn to see who it was.
He did not kill again for a year after that. It was on a patrol shift. Himself and Yaxley had been ambushed by three in Knockturn alley. The duel was fierce, and everyone was masked. Yaxley shot down two, and he finished off the last. He found out after the fact that it had been the father of the Patil twins, someone close enough to his life to matter, but he was still able to push it from his mind.
The final before the girl had been about two months prior. The Order had ambushed a hold they had in the North where they were keeping several captured muggleborns. They had come out in droves to try and free those jailed.
It had been one of the bloodiest battles of his life, with both sides facing massive casualties.
He had only contributed one. And very unfortunately, he knew exactly who it was. If he hadn't recognized the face of the man he had shot down at the time, he would've remembered by now. The Order mentioned him almost daily.
But they could never know that it was his wand that struck down Dean Thomas. It would ruin any chance he had at success, in his mission, or outside.
The memory of last night flashed through his mind once again.
He hadn't realized how fast his heart was pounding. He had to hold on to the wall for a moment, steadying himself enough to pull on his robes. Taking a few final breaths, he ducked out the door and headed down to the kitchen.
Almost everyone was already down there. His eyes went straight to Hermione, who was talking to one of the Weasley twins, he couldn't remember which to save his life. He walked over to her.
It was incredible to him how she always managed to look so radiant. Unlike everyone else in the room, she was dressed in muggle clothes, dark pants, knee high boots, a black tank, leather jacket with her wand tucked into her belt. Her hair was in a braid down her back, revealing her neck where Draco could just see the remains of a mark she had obviously covered up.
As if she knew he was behind her, which she probably did, she turned at that exact moment.
"Draco," she said, nodding at him. She was holding a box which she handed to him.
"This is one of the wands that was saved from the raid earlier in the week," she explained. "It's yours for the mission."
He nodded, grateful. The Order hadn't let him have a wand since he started his asylum, and if anything showed a shift in their opinion of his status, it was this.
He took the wand out of the box. It was beautiful cherry wood.
"Dragon heartstring," Hermione explained, eyeing him as he twirled it between his fingers.
It wasn't his wand, but it felt pretty close. He caused a few sparks to emit from the end.
"It'll work," he nodded, tucking it inside his robes. "Thank you."
"No problem," she replied, before turning towards the front of the room. The Weasley twin watched him for a moment, a calculated look on his face. Draco met his eyes and held his gaze until the other decided to follow Hermione's lead and look to the front of the room.
Lupin had just walked in, and laid a bunch of different parchments on the table. After a quick look, Draco realized they were maps of his summer home and the grounds.
"So," Lupin began, eyeing everyone. "We have a chance here to correct mistakes made a few months ago."
"Rumour is that those captured in the north hold have been moved to the Malfoy Summer Home after the failed mission in late August. We have the chance to save those people again, mainly muggleborns, but word is that this is the main holding complex for prisoners of war now."
"The goal is simple," he explained, gesturing at the map. "There is an elaborate dungeon system in the basement."
"Who the fuck has a dungeon system in their summer home?" a voice said snarkily.
Finnigan. Of course.
All eyes shifted to Draco, who almost reflexively shifted his weight closer to Hermione.
The Gryffindor's eyes narrowed.
Taking a deep breath, but not taking the bait, Draco shrugged, remaining silent.
He felt Hermione let out the breath she was holding beside him.
Lupin continued, ignoring the outburst. "The prisoners are being kept at the very back of the dungeon. The only access route is through the main drawing room, and down the staircase behind the tapestry of the family tree."
"That's not true," Draco spoke up, frowning at the inaccuracy. All eyes turned to him once again. Uncomfortable as the centre of attention, he took a few tentative steps forward, so he was directly next to Lupin. He looked at the map for a moment before pointing out the alternative route.
"There's an ulterior entrance route, in case the prisoners ever tried to rebel and gained a hold on the main entrance," he explained, pointing at the map. "There's a bookshelf in the second-floor library, third from the door on the left. If you pull it out of the wall, it reveals a passageway that you can use to enter the dungeon complex from the opposite side."
There was a moment of silence.
"Your family makes no bloody sense, mate," said the Weasley twin, shaking his head.
"Didn't say they did," Draco replied, shrugging. "But at least you have two options because of it."
"Thank you, Malfoy," Lupin replied, his face visibly surprised but grateful. "That gives us another option for entrance, meaning that we should split the group. Malfoy, since you're the one who knows about the secret entrance, would you care to lead that group?"
He nodded without thought.
"Who is going that way?" Lupin asked, looking around.
"I'll go with Draco," Blaise shrugged, leaning against the wall. "We used to play in that passageway, I know it well."
"I'll go with them as well so they don't screw around," Longbottom said from his spot by the fire.
"Hey!" Blaise exclaimed, a small frown gracing his face. "I've never fought against you guys."
"It's not you I'm worried about," Longbottom said unabashedly.
Draco tried not to react.
"I'll go with them as well," Hermione spoke up from beside him.
An uneasy silence fell over the group. Draco watched steam escape from Finnigan's ears.
"Are you sure, Hermione?" Lupin asked, trying to keep his disbelief in check. "I mean…it is your first mission back…"
She rolled her eyes. "You aren't worried about me, you're worried about Draco. We've already proven that we work well together, and frankly, I'm the only one I trust in this entire Order to not leave him behind if I got the chance. Forgive me for not giving some of you the opportunity to curse him and say it was an accident."
Draco tried to keep his smirk in check, but failed mightily. He saw several Order members shoot him dirty looks, but Hermione stood her ground.
"I'm going with that group," she repeated, looking at Lupin directly.
He took a moment before nodding.
Hermione's tense posture relaxed a bit and she inched closer to Draco. Even though they weren't touching, the feeling of standing in such close proximity was comforting. He felt like they were on a circuit, with energy travelling back and forth between them in a closed loop.
As the rest of the roles were assigned, they stayed standing close. Draco knew that Finnigan was watching their every move, as was Blaise, but he found himself not caring. He was focused on two things: Hermione and the mission.
"Alright," Lupin said, once everyone knew the plan. "We'll all meet at the gates in three minutes. The wards, I imagine, are blood based." He raised an eyebrow at Draco. The latter nodded.
"Well Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said, standing up. "You seem to prove yourself more useful every day." With that, the members of the Order began to pop away until it was just Blaise, Draco and Hermione left.
"Are you ready for this?" Blaise asked his old friend.
Draco shrugged. "As ready as I could be."
"Lucius might be there."
"I know," Draco said, desperately shielding his mind, flexing his Occlumency muscles he had not used in months. "We shall cross that bridge when we get there."
Blaise looked at him for a moment, before nodding and popping away.
That left two.
"It'll be okay," Hermione said, looking up at him. "We'll get through this."
"It's 'we' now?" he noticed, raising an eyebrow. His heart seemed to skip a beat.
Without wasting a second, she went up on her toes and kissed him. It barely lasted two seconds but sent fireworks quaking through his body.
"I think you know the answer to that," she replied, holding out her hand. "In one way or another."
He did. And he didn't. There were factors, and context, and a mission that he seemed doomed to fail.
But fuck it. For this second, he did know the answer.
The answer he wanted at least.
He reached out and took her hand. With that, the two of them apparated away, ready to invade his old family summer home.
He was just unsure who he was fighting for.
Review :)
