The darkness came

by Writer8Hell

Everything was calm, but when Hermione turned her head towards the lake a few metres from her camp, she didn't see the person facing her before a spell hit her chest. The darkness came. DRAMIONE OS

The sun was setting when a noise was heard outside of the tent where Hermione Granger was resting. Wand in her hand, she stood and moved the fabric aside to see the surroundings of the forest. The snow had overwhelmed the area the night before.

Everything was calm, but when she turned her head towards the lake a few metres from her camp, she didn't see the person facing her before a spell hit her chest.

The darkness came.

oOo

Hermione opened her eyes and immediately was assaulted by the pain in her ribs, her right leg, and her head. It was like her eyes were burning and, into the bargain, her heart was beating much faster than normal.

Gradually becoming aware of her surroundings, she quickly noticed that she wasn't at her campsite anymore. She was lying on the cold stone ground, in what strongly seemed to be a dungeon or a narrow cell. The room was dark, and it took her a few seconds to adjust to the dim light. She was struggling to straighten her mind out.

She realised it was cold when a draught brushed her, making her hairs stand on end and causing goose bumps all along her body. It was really cold. That's when she realised her legs and arms were naked. She was only wearing an old shirt in poor conditions, from what she could see, that stopped just above her thighs.

As she stared up, she saw a little barred window that let the cold, wintery wind in; that's why she was nearly frozen. She immediately curled up into a ball, which was difficult due to her severe pain, hoping this way she would warm up a little bit.

Anguish and fear suddenly caught her. Her eyes watered. She had no idea where she was, what time it was, not even the date. The last thing she remembered was being hit in the chest by a spell, without having the chance to see her attacker's face. And she was alone. Desperately alone.

She couldn't talk, cry for help or call anyone. She didn't have the strength. She felt so bad. She was ravenous with hunger, to the point of being stunted. The cold had overwhelmed each of her limbs, and the stone floor was not helping. Her rib, leg and head pain made her head spin, and she began to lose all sensations in her feet.

She dared to raise her hand to brush her aching forehead and immediately felt it covered by an unusual substance, hotter than her skin. Blood. She didn't need her eyes or light to understand that her fingers were red. She could smell the metallic scent that they released, and it just heightened her anguish and her uneasiness.

She circled her knees again, shattering and shivering. She was so lost. Her eyes closed by themselves, and she couldn't fight to keep them open for long before succumbing to sleep again.

The darkness came.

oOo

A spurt of frightfully cold water suddenly woke her. She abruptly opened her eyes and was immediately assaulted by the light radiating from a door she hadn't seen in the darkness.

However, the light was quickly masked by the impressive body of a man, facing her with a wand pointed at her and a frightening smile on his lips.

"Stand up, Mudblood!" he commanded with a sharp and gravelly voice.

She couldn't see his face, nor truly awake from her sleep –or rather her inertia– as the pain in her body only grew with each passing second.

It was already unbearable, and yet it was getting worse. The cold made it impossible for her to do anything and the water dripping from her frozen body didn't help. She was totally overwhelmed.

"What don't you understand, you slut?" the man shouted, forcing her to stand up with a flick of his wand. "I told you to get up!" he continued with a terrifying laugh.

The spell didn't last long, though. He lifted her so roughly that her legs couldn't support herself and her blood pressure dropped suddenly. She fell back against the wall, holding on as best as she could despite the dizziness. All her limbs were numb and cold, and she felt as if drums were playing an incessant beat against her eardrums.

She didn't hear the spell the man cast and simply felt her consciousness slip away, as she became the spectator of her own movements.

She easily understood she was the victim of an unforgivable curse –the Imperius Curse. She had no idea how her own body managed to move, but she followed the man's commands, losing herself in her mind. She was far too weak to fight. She had become a rag doll.

When she re-emerged, she was on her knees, head down, and on what she assumed was probably a priceless Persian rug. The temperature was different from the room she had been in, and she could see that she was indeed wearing nothing more than a long, dirty t-shirt. She also noticed how red her hands were, practically purple, and her body was shaking. She was hypothermic. She couldn't feel the tips of her fingers or her toes.

There was a sudden cold voice and the tip of a wand sticking into her throat startled her. She snapped her head up. She immediately regretted her movement, as it sent a stabbing pain through her head, surpassing any other ache she had been suffering from for who knows how long.

"Hermione Granger," said the squeaky, screeching voice of a woman she recognised straight away. "What a surprise."

Astoria Greengrass.

She remembered her. She was a Slytherin student, the sister of one of her Hogwarts classmates, Daphne Greengrass. She only knew her by name and hadn't seen her for almost four years, but she would have recognised her anywhere.

After all, the blonde's reputation was not to be denied and her name had been in the mouths of many students in her Hogwarts days. There were many rumours about her, about her silly love affairs and her duels with sixth year girls. Hermione had had more than enough to deal with when she was Prefect and had caught her several times trying to sneak into the common rooms of other houses in the middle of the night.

When she tried to answer her, her throat tightened and she coughed loudly, stopping her from saying anything at all. Her mouth was chalky and dry. Astoria's mocking laughter answered her.

"Have you lost your oratory talents, Mudblood?" she said wryly.

She was sitting in an armchair right above Hermione, like a queen facing one of her subjects. Except that Hermione was not one of them. She was quite obviously her prisoner, her slave, and she knew it.

Her wrists were magically bound behind her back and the wand pointed at her throat was that of the man who had picked her up from her cell. Now she knew that it was a cell. It could not be otherwise. There was no way out.

"Where am I?" she managed to say in a horribly hoarse and broken voice, her teeth clenched from pain and anger.

"At my house," Astoria answered simply, without giving any more details. "You see, you're in one of the most protected manors in the entire United Kingdom right now. Somewhere your little resistance friends can't come looking for you. Where we'll happily turn you into the most pathetic creature of your– race," she continued, the last word filled with disgust.

The man holding her at wandpoint sneered and Hermione saw Astoria glare at him. He immediately shut up, chilling Hermione considerably. Apparently, Greengrass was in control here and that was very bad.

"I've been told that you've already toured your new room over the last few days. Great, it's important that you get your bearings here. After all, you're going to have to run this place as if it were your home. I hope your muggle parents taught you how to tidy your room, Granger," she teased her with a sly smile. "Or did they die before they could?"

Astoria's words struck her, and Hermione felt her strength return for a moment. She struggled with her bonds to get to her kidnapper. Astoria's cold, mocking laughter filled the room as the man to her right pressed his wand deeply against her throat.

She couldn't stand it. It was too much. She was going to implode. Or explode. She couldn't tell, but she could feel her strength dwindling.

Her parents had been killed two years earlier, despite their altered memories. The horrible news had spread around the country after Voldemort had publicly announced that their heads had been kindly laid on the doorstep of her childhood home. Hermione had never dared to return.

"You're good entertainment, Mudblood," Astoria sneered as Hermione attempted to stand up, only to fall weakly back on the floor. "I always thought Gryffindors, and their bravery were particularly stupid. What did you expect would happen? You'd jump down my throat? When I have the power to kill you on the spot? How funny…"

She pulled out her wand, but Hermione realised too late what was about to happen.

"Crucio!"

The darkness came.

oOo

The only thing she had managed to understand from her discussion with Astoria was that she had been in that cell for several days. She didn't know how many, less than three; otherwise she suspected that she wouldn't have survived as she'd been without water and in such cold. Probably two days. No more than that.

She had woken up in almost complete darkness, which meant that it was still night. Only the moon lit up the cell, giving enough light for her to make out a small bowl of water and a piece of bread lying on the floor. She threw herself on it and devoured the stale bread and swallowed a few centimetres of water which felt like an oasis in the middle of the desert due to her dehydration.

She tried to think through her current situation, but the pain throughout her body made it impossible to think clearly. The Cruciatus Curse thrown by Astoria had taken its toll on her and what little strength she had left was extinguished, leaving her in the state of a true wimp, unable to move.

The only thing she had been able to retain and analyse was the fact Astoria had mentioned her role here. Hermione realised that her purpose would be degrading, one that would be closer to what the house elves did – a slave.

Astoria had mentioned cleaning and despite Hermione's exhaustion and weakness, she was smart enough to understand and make the connections. She was known for her intelligence after all. She was going to be serving this woman, whom she already hated from the bottom of her heart. She had no option but to accept this. The reality of the situation hit her. She knew she would not last long. She would end up dying from either the cold, thirst, or hunger. That much was clear.

It was not long before she sank again. Unconsciousness summoned her.

The darkness came.

oOo

After what seemed like an eternity, the door to her cell opened again. Hermione was surprised to see a house elf and not the man who had twice brought her a bowl of water and some bread since her return to the cell. Just enough to survive, she realised. They were obviously trying to weaken her, but not actually kill her.

The elf walked into the room, following the light that was gradually illuminating the place. The elf glanced around for Hermione before taking a few more steps forward and faced her. She was half sitting against one of the walls, curled up, unsuccessfully trying to stay warm. She was slowly losing feeling in her limbs and was beginning to fear for her life.

"Miss? Mistress Astoria asked Bina to go and get you to start your work in the manor," the elf said in her high-pitched, hissing voice.

Hermione frowned, preparing a refusal, but the creature cut her off.

"You have no choice, Miss. You will suffer even more if you refuse. Bina's Mistress killed many girls like you before your arrival because they wouldn't bend to her rules."

To say Hermione was shocked was an understatement. She couldn't believe her ears. She had spent a very long time telling herself that this was all just a horrible nightmare, that she would soon wake up in her tent, warm and well fed. But obviously she was wrong.

Everything was surreal, so sudden, but now she had no doubt that she was awake. And it was when the elf started to approach a wall to punish herself by hitting her head that Hermione decided to act.

"Stop! I'll follow you!" she promised, grabbing her hand so she would stop punishing herself.

A stabbing pain shot through her body, but she chose to ignore it and focused on the creature in front of her. Her body wasn't used to moving and her limbs were so numb that it took a huge amount of effort to move. Besides, her leg – probably broken – prevented her from making any large movements without unbearable pain.

"Bina shouldn't have talked about her Mistress like that!" she repeated, which allowed Hermione to learn more about her.

"Bina, I assure you, I'll follow you. But please stop hurting yourself," Hermione begged her as she tried to pull her away from the wall.

It took her a few more minutes before Bina finally agreed and stopped her repetitive movements. Hermione's teeth were chattering, and her fingers were shaking, but she held on to get any information from the elf. A word, food, company, information, anything. It was the only hope she had left.

The little strength that remained had allowed her to think of a solution during the hours locked in the icy cell. She concluded that it would be impossible for her to escape. She could feel the magical wards throughout the room on top of her weakness and lack of a wand.

No one could come and get her. She had no hope left in the cell.

Four years since the war broke out. Four years of hiding in the country searching for a way to destroy Voldemort. Four years of running from the dark forces. Four years of trying to avoid the men and women who were hunting her.

Voldemort had grown in power, taking over the capital and several British cities, while the Order of the Phoenix resisted as best it could. At least, what was left of it.

So many people had died, on both sides, but few knew who had survived. The newspapers were mostly controlled by Death Eaters and the only ones that weren't, couldn't publish often enough to keep track of all the deaths.

It was all a blur, and no one knew what was going on. The Battle of Hogwarts had taken place three years earlier, and the only way out had been for the Order to flee after Voldemort had taken control of the school.

Harry was still missing. He had gone into the Forbidden Forest, as requested, but had never come out. No one knew what happened to him. The news had weakened the troops to an unimaginable extent and retreating was the only thing possible at the time.

Many had lost track of each other, and so Hermione had found herself alone. Terribly alone. She had been desperate to find her friends, knowing that they had all left with the same goal: destroy Voldemort. But every place that had once linked them together had been destroyed or was in the hands of the Dark Lord – The Burrow, Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, Shell Cottage– everything.

She would occasionally bump into people she knew on the streets of destroyed or apocalyptic cities, but she had never stayed with them long. She didn't trust anyone, after reading in the newspapers that some members of the Order had joined Voldemort's ranks in order "to survive".

She had been hiding for three years, roaming the plains and towns of Britain, mostly in disguise or transfigured by spells or potions. The Order was now almost non-existent. The few remaining resistance fighters were on the run. The rest of the wizards were just survivors, people who were doing everything to save their own butts, never fighting for anything but themselves.

She ran into Lavender Brown two weeks earlier and after a duel that had lasted nearly twenty minutes, Hermione realised her former classmate had fallen into madness and paranoia. Hermione ended up appareating, particularly disturbed by Lavender's mental state.

This was not the first time she had come face to face with wizards and witches she had known in the past who were completely destroyed by war, torture and corruption. Clans had formed everywhere, groups of bandits pillaging houses and homeless people in order to survive. Wizards were fighting for themselves, for their survival, but never for the common good. The situation was apocalyptic.

The main figures of the Order had disappeared, no one knew where they were. Occasionally one would hear about certain members in the newspapers, announcing their capture, or simply putting out wanted notices. Hermione had seen her name written on flyers hundreds of times. She was near the top of the wanted list.

Thinking about this lit a light in her head. She finally understood, she made the connections, she remembered.

On a summer's evening the previous year, while wandering anonymously down a Muggle street in Birmingham, she had come across a wizarding newspaper sticking out of a bin. Clearly, someone had been there before her.

It was difficult to find copies of the Daily Prophet those days. She had discovered a new law passed by Voldemort himself on the front cover: as of the fifteenth of July, all Muggleborns and squibs would be assigned to Pureblood residences to serve the highest-ranking Death Eater families.

The news shocked hers, to say the least. How could the wizarding world have sunk so low? The article spoke very clearly of slavery, abuse, and outright discrimination. All Muggleborns and squibs would be captured, and Hermione knew that it would be even riskier for her to be wandering around now.

Now, she understood how she ended up here. Captured by a snatcher, one of the Death Eaters' minions or a traitor who had come to collect money from them. She had been taken to a Pureblood manor, Astoria Greengrass', assumedly married to a notorious Death Eaters, if not one herself.

It was the elf's small steps that brought Hermione out of her thoughts. Tiredness was clearly affecting her focus and she was prone to rambling, but she looked up at Bina and saw her walking out of the cell. Hermione stood up to her feet albeit with difficulty and held on to the walls, following the elf as best she could.

The corridor's light blinded Hermione, a stark contrast to the darkness of her cell. From the changing movement of the sun and shadows through window bars, it had been two days since she had seen Astoria, which she believed would make the date December 16th, 2001. She wasn't sure of anything.

Bina led her to what she assumed was the kitchen of the house – or rather the manor– taking her through several corridors and up a staircase, exhausting her even further, Hermione walked into the room, still shivering, pale and clutching the countertops.

She saw Bina busily preparing what she assumed was a dinner for several people. She was slowly recovering from her exertion. Bina was busy arranging to perfection what looked like a particularly tempting meal on the two China plates.

Her stomach grumbled louder than it ever had done before, reminding her that she had only eaten old: stale bread. She decided to take a chance.

"Bina?" she asked in a weak, pleading voice as she held on to one of the counters. "May I have a glass of water or something to eat, please?"

Her head was spinning, and her leg was badly aching.

Bina startled at the sudden sound of Hermione's voice and turned to her, a look of regret in her eyes.

"Bina is sorry, Miss, but Mistress Astoria has forbidden her to give you anything," she replied in a sorry tone.

Hermione expected this and although she wanted to urge the elf to help her on the sly, she resigned herself, remembering how cruel Astoria could be. She looked into the elf's eyes and saw that she would have liked to help her, but the threats Astoria had made kept her from breaking her orders.

Hermione simply nodded and tried to rest her limbs as much as possible, before having to perform whatever task Greengrass would ask of her. Bina quickly finished preparing the two dishes and levitated one of them to Hermione.

"You must take this to the Masters," she explained in her squeaky voice, as the witch took the dish between her two trembling hands. "Bina will show you the way."

She walked past Hermione struggling to hold the dish in her frail, numb hands. The only pleasant thing was the warmth of the plates, which temporarily spread through her arms. She was afraid she'd drop them and feared what the consequences might be.

She followed Bina to a large dark double wooden door, which the elf opened quickly.

"First, this dish, Miss. Then you come and get the second one. Keep your head down, Mistress Astoria might take this as a provocation," she merely advised her before pushing her inside.

Hermione didn't have time to respond before she stepped into the large room. It was a dining room with a long table in the centre. With a quick glance, she determined that four people were seated.

One woman, Astoria Greengrass, and three men, one of whom she couldn't see as his back was turned to her. She didn't look at the others long, quickly lowering her head.

She was still limping, but the parquet floor was pleasant against her bare feet. She did not think about it long as she took note of where she was when Astoria's shrill voice spoke up.

"Ooh, look who we have here! The new Mudblood I mentioned briefly earlier. I'm sure she'll be to your liking, Father," she said in a tone that made Hermione want to vomit despite having nothing to throw up.

She felt the man's gaze on her as two fat laughs accompanied Astoria's. She shivered.

"I hope you'll like it this time, my dear," she added in a sweet voice.

Hermione saw her move in her peripheral vision and assumed Astoria placed her hand on her who she assumed was her husband, the man with his back to her. When he made no response, Astoria turned her head to Hermione again. Her voice was quite different from the one she used to address her peers.

"Serve us, Mudblood," she commanded in an icy voice.

Hermione felt a magical force push her back hard, forcing her to move towards the table. She assumed that Astoria had used her wand when she moved.

As Bina had advised her, she kept her head down and walked towards them as normally as she could. She didn't want to appear weak in front of them. Normally, she would have refused to comply with them, but she quickly realised it wouldn't be that easy and she wouldn't get anywhere by acting meekly or angrily. She would have to play it smart.

Her hands were shaking consistently, and she put the plate down next to the first man at the table to serve him, while the others resumed their discussion.

"The Dark Lord is hosting a very special party for all of us next weekend," announced the man who Hermione assumed was Astoria's father.

"I hope you'll be there this time," said the other man. "Astoria shouldn't suffer any further humiliation because of her fiancé's absence."

Fiancé? So, the third man, who had his back towards Hermione, was Astoria's fiancé. Now she had to determine the identity of the man she was serving.

From what she could see, his hands were rather wrinkled, wearing a black suit and a white shirt, his nails were quite dirty, and his voice seemed mature. However, she didn't recognise the voice. She normally had a good memory of these things, but it failed her with this voice.

The fiancé had not opened his mouth and Astoria was the only one who spoke in defence of him, answering to the Stranger. Yet she seemed to bow to the authority of this man. She was respectful while she tried to make excuses for her fiancé.

Hermione didn't have time to contemplate it any longer as Astoria's unbearable voice addressed her again.

"Hurry up, Mudblood!" she commanded as she gave another wave of her wand.

Hermione nearly spilled the contents of the dish as she turned, head down and jaw clenched, towards Astoria's fiancé's plate. This allowed her to examine his hands too. They were much younger, pale skinned, with perfectly manicured nails and long fingers. One particular thing that caught her attention.

On his right hand, he was wearing a very specific ring. It completely froze Hermione in her tracks. It was a signet ring that bore the crest of his family. The Malfoy family.

She looked up at him so quickly, her neck cracked from the movement. She met Draco Malfoy's gaze and caught a quick flash of surprise before he hid it behind what she understood to be his method of Occlumancy. She saw him shift to an indifferent, cold, and particularly hateful look in his eyes.

She couldn't believe it. Astoria's fiancé was Draco Malfoy. A weight fell in her stomach and her hands shook more. Her worst nightmare was now reality. It was surreal and she couldn't get her thoughts straight. Her eyes never left Draco's face, who had already turned his head towards Astoria, mouthing a few words she wouldn't hear as her brain was clouded with confusion.

She could see his lips moving numbly, his eyes growing colder and his jaw tightening. But she couldn't move. Time seemed to be frozen for Hermione.

"Holy Merlin, you're so useless, Mudblood," Astoria suddenly spat. "You need to be taught some manners because your muggle parents obviously didn't. Crucio!"

Hermione dropped the dish and fell to the ground.

The darkness came.

oOo

Hermione barely had her eyes open when a hand grabbed her arm roughly. Her head hit the floor, cutting open the top of her forehead, and her vision blurred. She didn't understand what was happening to her but as she slowly gained consciousness, she could tell she had been moved somewhere else –or thrown – over the last few minutes.

She struggled to keep her eyes open or hear the voices around her clearly, but she noticed the temperature was much too pleasant for her to be back in her cell. If she hadn't known she had been moved, she might have thought she was still in the dining room. She knew she wasn't alone.

Hermione didn't know how long it had been since Astoria's Cruciatus Curse, but she was certain dinner was now over. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Slowly, the voices became clearer and she heard a door being shut. A familiar voice spoke up.

"Astoria just retired to bed," Draco said coldly.

So, she was right: the meal had been over for a while.

She heard footsteps coming towards her as she laid on the floor. She heard his voice again, less than a metre from her. She shivered. She couldn't believe he was there, so close.

"What are you going to do?" he asked the other two men in the room.

She had been able to identify their presence by footsteps but hadn't opened her eyes. Her head ached like hell. She was in terrible condition and was struggling to keep herself conscious.

"What do you think, Malfoy?" said the man she recognised as Astoria's father. "Look at that dress and those legs, how can I resist?" he continued with a loud laugh, which sent shivers of horror down Hermione's spine.

She heard a belt buckle being undone and tears welled up in her eyes.

No, this couldn't be happening. She couldn't believe it. It was just a nightmare, something like this couldn't happen. Not with him here. It couldn't be.

She heard footsteps approaching her and felt a man's smelly breath attack her face. A pudgy hand reached for her cheek, the caress making her sick as hell.

"Who wouldn't want to fuck a beautiful doll like you? Not even your dirty blood could manage to foul your skin and body, Mudblood," he whispered close to her ear, as Hermione tried her best to look unconscious.

She figured this way it would probably be easier to bear.

She felt the man's hand slide down her bare arm and she clenched entirely as a second laugh joined Astoria's father's. The Stranger.

He also approached her, coming to crouch by her legs. Unlike Astoria's father, he was anything but gentle. He put his large hand on her bare thigh to hold her down. This was too much.

She tried to wiggle out of his grip as he spread her legs - one of which was aching terribly – and lifted her shirt. He held her firmly against the floor and she wasn't strong enough to resist properly.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she moaned weakly, desperate for them to stop touching her. She could feel their hands on her skin, kneading her flesh harshly. She wanted to vomit, to scream, to disappear. She barely had the strength to move in order to escape them, but she still tried to fight back.

She felt a hand on her belly as their loud laughter mingled with her cries. A second belt was undone. It was too much. She screamed for them to stop, but one of them put his huge hand over her mouth. And she unsuccessfully tried to bite him.

She couldn't believe Malfoy wasn't doing anything. Was he really going to watch the scene, motionless, neither leaving the room or stopping them? Not that she wanted him to participate, but she'd rather he at least didn't stand and watch like a helpless spectator.

The men's laughter continued to intertwine with Hermione's moans and cries. Finally, a voice cut through the noise.

"Enough!" shouted Draco, towering over them.

The Stranger, who had placed one of his hands between Hermione's thighs, immediately let go, as did Astoria's father whose hand was resting on one of her breasts.

Before he could speak, Draco continued on.

"Leave her to me." he ordered, undoing his belt buckle as well. "It's my turn to enjoy for once."

"You don't usually participate," the Stranger replied, with suspicion in his voice.

"I've been dealing with this Mudblood for years, and I've always wanted to fuck her, wanted her under my thumb," he added, smirking. "Imagine the pleasure of finally being alone with her. Having her all to myself!"

"Alone?" asked the Stranger as he stood up, in a tone mixed with surprise and– disappointment.

As the conversation between the men carried on, Hermione continued to cry, her heartbeat and breath were both erratic. Her skin felt as if it was on fire.

"I know how much you like to do this publicly and like to share, but I do not," Draco said coldly.

"I can understand that, Malfoy," Astoria's father said, with a smile in his voice. "Although I'm rather disappointed to leave a doll like that, I do want you to enjoy yourself, Son," he continued, rising to his feet. "After all, you need to have some fun before you marry my daughter."

Hermione heard him pat his shoulder, before asking the Stranger to follow him. Without the two other men in the room, her breathing was slowing down. Her heart was still beating too fast and tears were running down her cheeks.

The door slammed and it was silent. It lasted only a few seconds, but was enough for Hermione to start doubting. A doubt that split her heart when it was already beating as if it could implode at any moment.

Then everything changed drastically. She heard Draco's hurried footsteps and him fall to his knees beside her. She also heard the door magically lock and a whispered warding incantation.

Her other senses kicked in when, in a low voice, he uttered spells that slowly brought feeling back to her limbs despite her low body temperature. The pain of her wounds and headache dulled. He was healing her slowly.

There was still her horribly pale skin, her trembling, purplish hands, weight loss, and her ugly dark circles. They were impossible to miss. She had changed considerably, in just a few days, let alone the past few years–

She had stopped crying, but there were still some fresh tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were still closed, too weak and scared to even move.

But she was conscious and she could hear them. His muffled sobs. She heard them, all of them. He was crying and she felt one of his fingers on her cheek, caressing her with infinite tenderness.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he kept saying in a low voice, tears flowing. "I will kill them! All of them, one by one! I swear to you, love. I will slaughter them for what they dared do to you."

Hermione's tears started again, and she had to strain her ears to understand his whispers. She wanted to move, to get up and do something, to say something! She wanted him to be closer, she wanted to wrap herself in his arms! But the shock of what happened kept her from moving despite Draco's healing spells.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, where have you been?" he asked in a broken voice.

As if he had read her mind, he leaned over and carefully pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He buried his head in her crazy, tangled hair, sobbing uncontrollably against her inanimate body. She felt like a spectator watching everything when she wanted to give him back everything he was saying.

"I thought I'd lost you, I felt like I'd died when I heard you'd disappeared. They kept saying they would hunt you down and capture you. I thought I would never see you again. I thought you had perished in the battle, that I would never hold you in my arms again."

She was leaning against him as best she could, enjoying the warmth he radiated and the powerful smell of his cologne –a smell she'd thought she'd never smell again.

"I– I've been looking for you," she croaked, before coughing violently.

"Please don't talk, my love," he said immediately, hugging her even tighter. "Save your strength, you need to rest. Hermione, I beg you, calm down. I'm here now. I'm here," he repeated.

Hermione's sobs loudly, piercing Draco's ears and heart. She was crying for those years alone, cut off from the world, from her loved ones. She was crying for those years of ruin, where she had tried too often to hold on to something that wasn't there to keep her from sinking under. She had clung to the memory of his eyes, his lips, his words, his skin. She had held on for him and only him. Seeing him again, after all these years of silence and pain, overwhelmed her with emotions.

"I'm so sorry, love," Draco kept repeating, still carrying her on his lap, holding her frail body as close to him as possible. "I should have found you quicker, I could have avoided all this."

"Y-you couldn't help it, Draco," she whispered with difficulty, her face pressed against his neck.

"Don't talk, just breathe and calm yourself down, love," he said, stroking her back.

He didn't want her to use any of the remaining strength she had. Although he had performed a dozen spells to heal her body, she obviously wasn't in any condition to do anything. Her wounds were not completely healed and he suspected that she was still in a lot of pain, especially since her right leg was likely fractured.

He felt her shaking against him as her tears and breathing slowed, leaving only a comfortable silence between them.

"I love you so much," he whispered in her ear, stroking her back affectionately.

She didn't have the time –or the strength– to say anything back as he gently placed her back on the ground and stood up, wiping away her tears on the way. She thought her heart would break again as he moved away but her thoughts were cut short.

"Don't move," he asked her in a soft whispered voice. "I'll be right back."

She heard him muttering more incantations, what sounded like transformation spells, and realised he was conjuring something up. Indeed, a few minutes later, he approached her, grabbing her under her knees and shoulders. She moaned in pain as he brushed against her ribs and leg, and he apologised, promising he'd be quick.

She felt the softness of clean sheets and a comfortable mattress. He placed one of his fingers on her cheek, rubbing tenderly, as he sat on the edge of the mattress, close to her.

She assumed that the spells he's been muttering before were what conjured up this bed. She longed to open her eyes, to see his grey eyes again, to observe him, to take the time to see how he had changed.

"You have to sleep, Hermione," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "I'm here, I'll protect you from now on. I promise we'll have plenty of time to meet again afterwards, my love, but you need to rest and get your strength back. I'm in charge here, no one will notice what's going on in here. I'll stop them. I'll explain everything to you soon, I swear–"

Hundreds of questions came to her mind, but she knew she couldn't ask them now. She trusted him, she knew she could. She was fine with waiting.

"I love you," she managed to whisper, before sinking into the depths of sleep.

And the darkness came.

oOo

When Hermione awoke, she felt more rested than she had in years. The sun was tickling her eyelids. and she could feel that her body was numb from sleep rather than pain this time.

She slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the daylight. She was lying in front of the window, in the white sheets of a large bed. The sun's beams made her eyes crinkle.

She felt better. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but it seemed to have been enough to ease her aches. It was like she was in a dream. The view outside was beautiful, tinged with winter sunshine and a few snowflakes falling outside. She had no idea where she was, but she hadn't felt this good in years.

She turned her head to look around the room as memories of the dinner and its aftermath suddenly came back to her. The men who had touched her, the torture she had suffered, but also Draco. His hands on her, his breath on her cheek, his words and his voice. It wasn't a dream. Far from it. Reality hit her and tears appeared in the corners of her eyes.

From the furniture she could see around her, she was obviously in an office, it was probably Draco's. But she was alone. Alone with her memories, alone in a room she didn't know, alone and powerless.

The memories of what had happened kept running through her mind. She felt as if she could still smell them, feel their hands on her skin and their loud laughter in her ears. She felt dirty and she wanted to scrub clean every inch of her skin. She felt sticky, as if the prints of their hands had been left on her skin.

Her mind was spinning at the memory of it all, she was completely lost, it was all jumbled up. Even though her eyes had been closed at the time, she could picture the scene in her head. But Draco's face replaced that of the men's, blurring everything else. Their voices became his. He was haunting her. Her head was spinning and she felt seriously dizzy even though she was lying down.

She tried to sit up in bed, propping herself up on her elbows, but her head was hurting like hell again. Was she really going to faint after sleeping for so long? She fought the feeling of unconsciousness. Memories were flooding back and brought new tears to her eyes. The shock was taking hold of her whole body. Everything seemed so unreal to her. She was lost.

She was startled by the sudden sound of the door. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd woken up, but she hadn't managed to move any further. She turned her head quickly, and met Draco Malfoy's gaze as she fell back against the pillows.

She looked into his eyes and saw the surprise in them at seeing her awake. Before she could speak, he closed the door behind him and muttered two incantations to lock and isolate the room. He rushed to her bedside and sat down beside her, placing a hand on her cheek. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern and if Hermione hadn't been so confused she would have rushed to reassure him.

"How do you feel?" he asked her in a soft, yet worried voice.

She cleared her dry throat before speaking. Draco stood up and disappeared behind the bed, only to return with a large glass of water in his hand.

"Drink it, love," he said, handing it to her. "The spells I cast on you the day before yesterday weren't enough to hydrate you completely."

She learned it had been two days since she had been in that bed. Hundreds of new questions came to her mind as she sat up –with his help– to drink. The water was cool on her tongue and soothed her throat, giving her an indefinable pleasure. She never thought a simple glass of water could make her feel this way.

"How do you feel?" he said again.

"Better," she replied, her voice still weak and broken.

He rested his palm on her cheek and she lifted her hand, placing it over his, staring into his eyes. Tears welled up again. She had missed him so much. She still couldn't believe that he was standing so close, that he was with her. That he was even alive.

She watched his grey gaze move to rest on their clasped hands and his eyes widened. She frowned in confusion. What was going on? Did someone enter the room? Was someone coming? Were they no longer safe? Dozens of ideas came to mind, creating a ball of anxiety in her stomach.

However, the gesture Draco made after, calmed all her fears. He took her left hand carefully, with infinite tenderness, and slowly brought it to his mouth. His lips rested on her ring finger as he closed his eyes, more precisely on the wedding band she was wearing. She saw a single tear escape from one of his eyes and found herself unable to stop her own tears from rolling down her cheeks.

"I thought they would have taken it from me," she admitted, sobbing softly.

"I thought you would have removed it, that you would have hidden it from everyone," he replied simply, opening his eyes again and looking into hers with emotion.

"I never did. I've never taken it off, not once, not for a second since you slipped it on my finger."

Hermione saw him reach into his shirt collar with his other hand and pull out a silver chain with a gold ring dangling from it. A wedding band. The twin of Hermione's.

"It was too risky," he justified himself immediately. "I was betrothed to Astoria a few weeks after the battle and I've been trying to delay the wedding ever since. I hoped to find you before then. I promise you I would have preferred to do otherwise, I would have loved to wear it every day, but I–"

"Draco," she cut him off, grabbing his hand, which was still holding his chain. "I know. You did everything you could to stay alive and I will never blame you for that."

He swallowed and nodded gently.

They'd been married in a small Muggle church in Scotland only a month before the Battle of Hogwarts occurred. Their marriage hadn't been magically registered, as it had been entirely a Muggle affair. They hadn't told anyone, married in secret, just for themselves and to make sure they were bound forever. For love.

They remained quiet for a few moments, Hermione simply stroking his hand with her thumb, as all the questions she had been asking herself came back to her mind, but one stood out.

"Where are we?" she whispered, breaking the pleasant silence that had settled in.

"Near Chester, in one of my family's manors," he explained. "Astoria and I have been living here for the last three years."

She tensed slightly at this. She couldn't get her head around the idea of him being engaged to someone else, although it shouldn't be that surprising. The Battle of Hogwarts was long over and she suspected he hadn't escaped it.

"Where is she?" she asked anxiously, letting her arm fall back on the mattress.

"She left yesterday morning with her father for a few days. You have nothing to worry about, I promise you."

She trusted him. She knew she could. If Astoria wasn't there, that explained how she had been able to sleep. Obviously, Draco and his fiancée were living alone in this manor, and aside from the house elves – at least Bina – no one was around to wonder about where Hermione was at.

"You need to eat," he said with a worried tone. "You've lost a lot of weight and even though I've cast a few spells to help with that, they'll never replace a normal meal. Come on," he said, holding out a hand.

"I have to go out there?" she worried immediately.

"Hermione, I swear there's no risk. We're alone here."

She swallowed and looked at his hand. She couldn't help but imagine anywhere outside this room would be dangerous. What if Astoria came back? What if anyone broke into the manor? Draco's cover would be completely blown and they'd both risk death. Or worse.

He placed a hand on her cheek and forced her to look at him. He looked serious, but also confident and reassuring.

"My love, I promise you'll be safe," he whispered, without taking his eyes off her. "I'll be with you all the way and we're alone here. No one can come inside the manor without my permission. You're safe," he repeated.

Tears formed in Hermione's eyes again, but she finally nodded and grabbed his hand.

He helped her to her feet, putting an arm around her waist to help her walk. Her legs were shaking and without Draco's help, she'd probably be sprawled on the floor after two steps. She noticed that her right leg was healed, but still weaker than the other. A bandage surrounded her calf, which she assumed was Draco's handy work.

Finally, being on her feet allowed her to observe Draco's office in its entirety. She could see his signature on every corner, from the Slytherin colours that were tastefully scattered throughout the room, to the large bookcases that showed his love of reading, the large magical map of the sky where all the stars were inscribed, and the Nimbus 2001 that sat behind his dark wooden desk.

This room really did represent Draco and it warmed Hermione's heart. He created a safe space for himself in the midst of all the darkness of his life, which she knew was filled with blood, war and Death Eaters.

They walked through the dark office door in silence and Draco cautiously accompanied her to the kitchen, the only room she already knew. It was a short walk, but enough to allow Hermione to get her bearings in the huge manor. Draco's office was near the dining room and the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty when they entered and a full plate was waiting for Hermione on the central table. Bina wasn't there, but Hermione assumed that the dish had been prepared by her. She doubted Draco could have made it, knowing full well his lack of cooking skills.

Seeing the size of the meal, she doubted she would be able to eat it all but the look on Draco's face persuaded her to sit down and eat a little.

"I'll take you to the bathroom after your meal," he said as he sat in front of her.

She merely nodded. She would kill for a warm shower. She felt dirty and wanted her skin to be scrubbed down to the bone. It was then that she noticed she was no longer wearing the old t-shirt. She frowned, looking down at herself and Draco noticed.

"I allowed myself to dress you in some of my clothes," he told her hesitantly. "I didn't want you to catch a cold again and what you were wearing was – awful. I'm sorry, I should have waited until–"

"It's fine, Draco," she reassured him, understanding what was troubling him. "You did the right thing," she added, trying to smile, which actually looked more like a grimace.

How long had it been since she had smiled?

He nodded and continued to watch her eat as she struggled to swallow each bite. Her stomach had shrunk considerably in the last few days – and had slowly been shrinking ever since she went into hiding – so her body wasn't used to taking in so much food.

There was a new silence. Hermione didn't know what to say. It seemed like an eternity had passed since they had last seen each other -and it had been. Three years is a long time.

She remembered it perfectly.

The Battle of Hogwarts had been going on for several hours already. Draco, Ron and her had gone down to the Chamber of Secrets to destroy another Horcrux. The redhead had opened the door for them before rushing back up to the castle to rescue his sister and Neville.

Hermione destroyed the Hufflepuff cup, and Draco had retrieved several basilisk fangs. They had kissed in the centre of the huge room, before heading back to help the others. Then the battle had broken out, and it felt like everything was happening before they could even react. She and Draco had been separated in the fight and she was left alone with Harry and Ron.

She remembered trying to save Severus Snape, Draco's godfather, but to no avail. With blood on his hands and tears in a vial, Harry had run to Dumbledore's office. Then he left to join Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. That was the last time Hermione saw her best friend. The last time she hugged him.

When the fighting died down, Hermione met Draco secretly in one of the corridors. He made so many promises; a family with her when the war would be over, marrying her again in front of all their friends, buying their dream house in the Scottish countryside, and restoring her parents' memory.

She didn't have time to answer him before Voldemort's voice could be heard in the castle courtyard. Draco grabbed her face with a frightened look and kissed her one last time, giving her all his love. She responded with uncontained emotion, before they both walked towards the Dark Lord's voice.

Voldemort's speech had set the world on fire. More so than ever. Harry Potter's disappearance, the absence of his body, had made a mess of things and sent wizards running. Spells started flying and the crowd scattered in all directions, following those who had already fled. The only thing Hermione remembered was hearing Draco's voice telling her to run away, promising that they would meet up soon.

She had listened. And she'd lost him.

She felt his thumb wipe away a tear. She looked up at him, meeting his grey eyes which she loved so much.

"I'm so sorry," she heard herself whisper. "I should have found you, I should have appareated with you, so we could have run away together…"

"We couldn't have, Hermione," he answered, trying to come across confident and reassuring. "My parents and Bellatrix had already caught up with me and we were going to disappear as a family."

"So why did you risk yelling at me?"

"Because they didn't know who I was talking to. They asked me about it later, and, for some reason, they believed me when I said I was talking to that stupid Parkinson girl."

She nodded sadly and then put her fork down, her stomach full of the meal Bina had prepared. Then she saw him offer her a hand.

"Let's go to the bathroom," he suggested in a soft voice.

Hermione grabbed his hand and stood up to follow him. He put an arm around her waist and together they climbed the first set of stairs to the upper floors.

She felt relieved to find that the famous bathroom was on the second floor, the mere ascent of those few steps had exhausted her.

The manor was particularly luxurious. Despite the dark and creepy atmosphere of the corridors – due to their length and emptiness – Hermione easily noticed the luxurious ornaments that decorated the walls and the various rooms.

She wasn't surprised to walk into the most beautiful bathroom she had ever seen. The room was very large, in black and silver tones, and a large window let the winter sunlight sweep through the room, illuminating it in the most beautiful way. Winter was Hermione's favourite season.

She took a few steps forward, alone and limping away from Draco, to look at the room from every angle. A bathtub sunk into the floor in the centre of the room, much like a pool was sunk to the ground, making it seem even larger.

A beautiful mirror sat above the slate sink. However, the reflection she saw shocked her. She had never looked so pitiful. Her cheeks were slightly sunken, her skin was horribly pale, dark circles stretched under her eyes from exhaustion, her eyes looked dead, and a small scar stretched across the top of her forehead. Clearly, healing magic hadn't been able to work a miracle. She looked like a walking corpse.

Hermione had never been one to pay much attention to her appearance, but she had to admit that she hated the image reflecting back at her. How could she have ended up in this state in such a short period of time?

She closed her eyes for a few seconds before turning away to face Draco, who had remained at the door. She frowned.

"Aren't you coming in?"

"I'm–"

He looked away for a few seconds, which surprised Hermione. She had never seen him look so embarrassed.

"Do you want me to come in?" he asked with uncertainty in his voice.

"Of course I do, Draco," she replied, as if the answer was obvious.

She saw him swallow, but he finally nodded and walked in, closing the door behind him. He was hesitant, almost wary, as if he expected her to change her mind at any moment. She couldn't understand why he would react like that.

She got off the sink she had been leaning on and walked over to him.

"Draco? What are you afraid of?" she asked in a soft voice, placing a hand on his chest.

"I'm not afraid," he said, denying her question, shaking his head slightly.

He placed a hand on her cheek, looking into her eyes as he rubbed it with his thumb. Hermione couldn't quite make out the look in his eyes. It didn't appear he was using Occlumancy like she noticed a few days ago, but she couldn't read his emotions. She could in the past – had she lost the ability to read him over the years of separation?

"I don't want you to – go into shock again," he finally admitted in a low voice, resting his forehead against hers.

Now she understood. He had seen what the others had done. The men who had laid their hands on her, despite her screams and cries, and he had watched helplessly. She didn't blame him. She knew what he would be risking by interfering too early. He didn't have to explain it to her, and she would never be angry with him for it. He had saved their lives by waiting and, after all, he had still saved her from the worst.

She shook her head in understanding, not pulling away from him. She moved her hands to his cheeks, snuggling a little closer to his body.

"No, Draco," she whispered, shaking her head. "It's not about that, you're not them, you– you're not them," she repeated, closing her eyes. "It's you, Draco. The man I love, the man I married three years ago, the man I want to end my life with. You will never make me feel that way, in fact, you are the one who cures my wounds."

He closed his eyes tightly. His breathing quickened and she could feel the fear in his body. She understood it. She heard him swallow hard, as if he was trying to chase away his torment.

A few minutes passed before he reached for her hands, finally nodding and bringing them to his lips to place a kiss on them as he opened his eyes to meet Hermione's determined gaze.

"I'll run the water," he said, making her smile fondly.

When the hot water was hot enough, he wrapped his arms around her hips as she looked at herself in the mirror again.

He met her gaze through the mirror and gave her a very slight smile, but the real smile was in his eyes. Draco Malfoy smiled with his eyes, rarely with his lips. Hermione had learned that over time.

From the almost disgusted and saddened look in Hermione's eyes, Draco knew she was belittling her appearance but he preferred not to dwell on it. The few times Hermione had expressed her complexes towards her appearance, he had never managed to persuade her otherwise. Only actions had shown results.

So he remained silent, continuing to look into her eyes through the mirror. A few minutes passed, the time it took for the bathtub to fill, before Hermione spoke.

"Can you help me undress?" she asked hesitantly.

She was frightened at the thought of him seeing her body, which he hadn't seen for years but the look on his face reassured her. He seemed to look at her as the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and that had always reassured Hermione more than anything. He had a talent for calming her fears and anxieties.

"Sure."

She turned to him, her cheeks flushed, and it left like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was Draco. Her husband. The man she loved.

He grabbed the bottom of the black jumper and slipped it over her head, before letting it fall back to the floor. She was wearing a simple white t-shirt underneath, and it was only then that she realised how much his scent surrounded her. She wanted to soak up that smell. Forgetting that smell would be the worst torture she could possibly ever experience.

He swallowed thickly before grabbing the bottom of the shirt to remove it. She lowered her arms to hide her bare chest and Draco looked away, which amused Hermione slightly. Since when was Draco Malfoy the modest one in the relationship?

She leaned on him to remove the jogging shorts he had put on her, and then the oversized boxers. She blushed, realising she was completely naked and he was still clothed. She felt that her body was too thin, too dirty, too hideous. She had never felt so unattractive. She had never felt so depreciated.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked almost shyly – Draco Malfoy was shy?! – looking away again.

"Yes, please," she replied hesitantly, biting her lower lip.

She checked the temperature of the water before deciding to get in all the way, while Draco undressed behind her back.

To say that the warm water felt great was an understatement. She felt as if every muscle in her body was screaming out in victory. She let out a small sigh of satisfaction, which made Draco chuckle softly. She immersed herself up to her neck in the water, smelling the sweet scent of flowers.

She closed her eyes as she felt him slip behind her. She rested her back against his chest, slotting her head in the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Silence settled between them, both lost in thought, enjoying the feeling of others' bodies against their skin. They felt alive again, finally close to each other after three years. Three years of absence. It seemed like forever to her.

"Tell me," she said, breaking the silence. "Tell me what happened on your side the past few years," she continued in an almost pleading tone, looking up at him.

She could tell he didn't want to tell her, but she wanted to know. She wanted to know what he had gone through, experienced and endured. She had missed so much.

She wasn't going to let go of the matter so he resigned himself to answer.

"After the battle, my parents, Bellatrix and I returned to Malfoy Manor," he whispered. "The Dark Lord had asked us to take refuge there, so that his most trusted Death Eaters could rest and be ready when the time came, while he dealt with the turmoil caused by the battle. We were confined there for three weeks before he joined us. I had no way to leave. My father had an elf follow me around all the time because he had doubts about my allegiance. Bellatrix did too, but she just tried to get a confession out of me with Crucios."

Hermione shuddered in horror.

"I obviously didn't say anything. I would probably have been killed on the spot if I had. When the Dark Lord came back, he had fifty or so new Death Eaters with him. He had them all marked and he was coming to tell us what was going to happen next. The Ministry was still in his hands, as was Hogwarts. He told us that the war was spreading and chaos would ensue. That's when I realised that I couldn't go back – I was stuck."

"I had to continue my role as a spy. When he announced that he was going to link as many families as possible in order to procreate and spread his ideology, I knew it meant I would be betrothed. I hoped that I would be able to act alone and find you quickly, but my plans soon fell through. I moved here with Greengrass three days later. It took a while before they regained confidence in me and trusted that I was acting on their behalf. For weeks, Astoria was always watching me to make sure I wasn't planning something. I went on several missions with the other Death Eaters, I had to–"

He cut himself off, looking away, his throat tight with emotion. He didn't need to finish for her to understand what he did. But she didn't blame him because she too had done terrible things to survive.

She saw him close his eyes painfully and raised her hand to caress his cheek, silently letting him know she understood.

"They have come to trust me and I have risen in the ranks of my father and the Dark Lord," he continued, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm not exactly a commander, but no one is monitoring me anymore and I can act more confidently to help the resistance. I send information or leave clues lying around in the hope that someone will receive them, but that's the most I can do. I'm in a good enough position to be respected by most of the Death Eaters, including Astoria's family, but I still don't get to sit in on the meetings and make decisions. I'm almost there, though."

She hadn't taken her eyes off of him throughout his speech, unconsciously stroking the top of his chest with her thumb. She wishes she had found one of his clues, to know he was still alive and working for the resistance. Who knows if they could have found each other sooner?

"You did everything you could, Draco, and I'm so proud of you," she whispered, continuing caressing his cheek. "I'm sure you helped people by doing all this. Maybe even me, who knows."

"Have you ever come across any clues or secret information?" he said, surprised, as he lowered his head to look at her.

"Once or twice, yes, but it was more like clues to locations of resistance bases or victim directories. I've never found anything that could help the resistance get ahead," she sighed, resting her forehead against his chest.

"Please tell me," he asked her in a pleading tone. "Tell me how things were for you all this time," he added, running his index finger tenderly up and down her spine.

She began her story in the same way he had. How she had escaped from Hogwarts, appareated away from all her friends. Then detailed her first few months wandering the British countryside, looking for her friends, Draco or anyone from the Order. How she had failed miserably.

She had continued her journey through the British countryside, escaping the snatchers and Death Eaters as best she could, while continuing searching.

The first year passed and then Voldemort's forces continued to gain more and more power. Corruption took hold, which rekindled fear and paranoia among the wizarding community. The resistance weakened and Hermione soon realised that she was alone. She fought several of her former friends, who had tried to turn her over to the dark forces for money or protection. She defeated them all and continued to hide and work as best she could.

She did this for almost three years. Up until she was mysteriously caught.

"I was in a small forest, not far from Liverpool." Hermione reminisced. "I had been camping there for a couple of nights and was planning to leave the next morning. I suppose someone must have spotted me and given away my position. Or maybe I made a mistake with my warding spells. Either way, I stepped out of the tent to figure out what the noise I'd heard was, and that was the last thing I remember before seeing a flash of white light."

After her long monologue, she sighed heavily, reflecting on her three years of loneliness.

Draco seemed equally affected by her words. He tightened his grip on her shoulders to hold her closer to his heart. He couldn't begin to imagine the horror she had gone through.

He knew Voldemort and his armed forces had tightened the surveillance of the Portkeys and the borders so it was almost impossible for any wizard to escape the country. Hermione had told him she had never wanted to flee, too concerned with saving as many people as possible.

But what broke his heart even more was the pain in her eyes when she spoke of the friends she never saw again. Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and many others. All of them had vanished from sight, as had their families. It was a mystery, but she worked hard to find them. She told him that she had gone once a month to their houses in the first year, to the Burrow or to the Lovegoods' house, trying to find any clues of life. She had never found anything.

Perhaps they were dead? Draco didn't dare suggest it out loud. The possibility was already in the air, and Hermione's tearful eyes persuaded him not to say anything. He hadn't heard from anyone in the Order either. Of course, he wasn't a real member like Hermione, but he had still hoped to reach them somehow.

Draco had joined the Order of the Phoenix as a spy, following in the footsteps of his godfather, the summer before his seventh year at Hogwarts. Severus Snape was the only one – along with Hermione – to introduce him to the Order as a potential member.

By the end of their sixth year, Snape had told Dumbledore about him, backing his words with promises and vows. Hermione had told as many members as she could about his willingness to help, reiterating it dozens of times.

A few weeks after the death of the famous headmaster, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody and Remus Lupin took an interest in him. The deal was simple: Draco would have no information about the Order's actions, he would only be used as a pawn, a spy who would bring them information from the other side. Though the lack of recognition for the risks he was taking enraged him, he accepted. For Hermione's sake, but also for his convictions. He went back and forth discreetly between the Burrow and Malfoy Manor, giving them as much information as possible.

That was until the wedding of Bill and Fleur, which he attended, disguised, on Hermione's arm. Voldemort hadn't told anyone about the attack on the Ministry, and some people blamed him for it. Rightly so, he thought for a while. But the panic really set in when Hermione left without him.

The next year, he and Hermione arranged to spend time together during which they cherished every second together. The meetings were few and far between - so few Draco could count them on one hand.

This didn't exactly delight Hermione's friends, but it was the least of the two lovebirds' worries as they were able to weld together an even stronger love. The absence, the distance and the unknown in which they constantly lived, not knowing where the other was, bound them tighter than ever.

And so they decided to get married. No emotional proposal, no kneeling on the ground. Draco broached the subject as they enjoyed a moment together by the fire. He had joined her earlier in the evening at the meeting point they'd decided – with Ron and Harry's input – and the couple settled in for watch duty outside the tent.

A secret wedding, just the two of them, he said. A love affair, where all the symbolism of their relationship would reign.

She had accepted. Without any doubt in her head.

On April 11th 1998, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were married, for better or for worse. The wedding would have no meaning other than to them. They wanted to keep the day all to themselves.

Hermione looked down at the chain Draco wore around his neck and remembered putting the ring on his finger, her hands trembling and her eyes brimming with tears. She raised her hand to brush the ring with her fingertips, hesitantly, as if it might burst into flames at any moment. She still couldn't believe she was there, in his arms.

Draco removed his chain and retrieved the ring. Hermione looked up with a frown, but he simply held out the golden ring and then his left hand. Hermione smiled fondly, realising he wanted her to place the band on his finger once more, and bit her lip before doing so.

With trembling hands she slid the ring along Draco's finger, without him taking his eyes off her once. He linked their hands together and raised them a few inches into the sunlight. The two golden bands lit up in the middle of the room.

She met his loving gaze and couldn't help but lean in, for the first time since their reunion, to taste the lips of the man she had so secretly married.

Their lips brushed lightly at first, as if they were rediscovering each other. Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes again. When their lips fully slated over one another, it was like Hermione fully realised that he was there. He really was alive and in front of her.

Hermione deepened their kiss. Their lips met perfectly, tasting each other in the most wonderful way. Hermione could breathe again, as if she had risen from the grave after all these years. She was rising to the surface, through the feeling of her beloved man's lips.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered against her lips, before kissing her again and placing a hand on her cheek.

His lips were so soft against hers. Their bodies moulded together, warming their hearts in the most beautiful way. After three frigid years of wearing the hideous Death Eater mask, Hermione's presence also relit the spark in Draco.

Over the years, their bodies had been covered in new scars and neither of them could ignore them. Draco noticed the many scars on Hermione's arms and legs. She couldn't miss the marks on his chest, which looked like a knife had decorated it many times. She tried to erase the awful image from her mind, but she was caught by the scars that looked freshly healed, still slightly pink. What happened to him?

Hermione ran her index finger over them, causing shivers to run down Draco's back, his skin still sensitive. She looked up and met his intense gaze. A storm in the sea – That was how she had always described his eyes.

"I love you."

They didn't know who had said those words first, but they both understood the depth behind them. Words that reflected only a tenth of what they felt for each other. How could mere words describe the emotions Hermione felt every time she met Draco Malfoy's eyes?

It wasn't until the water began to cool that they finally decided to get out. After more than two hours of soaping, cuddling and talking, Draco snuggled Hermione into a large black towel and dried himself off. She walked over to the bathroom mirror once more, still struggling to stand completely upright, and leaned against the sink.

Her image reflected in it was still not flattering, but Hermione could see that her body had enjoyed the warmth of the bath. She looked clean, weak, but clean. Perhaps even warmed, both by the hot water and the presence of Draco, who put his arms around her hips and rested his chin on the top of her head.

Being with him was surreal and it felt as if he could evaporate at any moment.

He smiled at her and all her apprehensions disappeared.

They were back in his office, huddled together in bed, their bare legs intertwined under the covers. It was getting dark and Draco informed her of the date and time – 6 p.m. on December 17th. He fed her again to ensure she could recharge her body properly.

"What are we going to do now?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked down at her thoughtfully.

"You have to go back." he said fatalistically, after a moment's heavy silence. "You have to run away."

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, straightening up. "I'm not leaving without you, Draco. I don't want this anymore!"

Tears pooled in her eyes. She sat up too quickly, causing a bout of dizziness before Draco stabilised her.

"Okay," he whispered as he felt her shake. "We won't get separated again, I promise. We'll work it out. We'll stay together, my love."

She nodded, her head in his neck as she hugged him tighter.

"I don't want to lose you again when I've only just found you, Draco."

"I know. I'm sorry," he murmured in response.

He had to think quickly. Astoria would only be staying with her father for five days, and it had already been three days since she left. Draco had – thankfully – no obligations until she arrived back, which allowed him to stay with Hermione. He couldn't imagine leaving her again either, but he would if it meant saving her. He was fully aware of how much she had suffered and it ate at him. If only he had known earlier that the new girl brought in by the snatchers had been his wife…

A long moment of silence passed between the two lovers. Hermione's breathing had calmed down. Draco's caresses brought her enough comfort and ease that sleep found her quickly, snuggled in her husband's arms.

And the darkness came.

oOo

Panic filled her every limb as Draco abruptly woke her in the middle of the night. Only a few hours had passed since Hermione had fallen asleep. The calm and quiet atmosphere that had surrounded them had been shattered.

"Hermione, we have to go!" Draco had suddenly exclaimed, placing a hand on her face to wake her.

She could see him straightening up and bustling around his office, shoving things into a little beaded bag. Where had he picked that up? What was going on?

She sat up in bed, lost and frightened.

"Draco, what on earth is going on?" she worried in a frightened voice.

"Astoria's coming home early. One of the elves told her you were missing," he said quickly, continuing to hustle around the room.

"Bina?" she gasped, having thought that the elf was different. "How do you know that? And how are we going to leave? Where are we going to go? What about your Dark Mark?"

"No, another one," he replied, before tossing her a t-shirt, a jumper and a pair of trousers, which he had retrieved from his beaded bag. "Put these on. We must be quick."

He hadn't answered her questions, and Hermione became more anxious. His movements were hurried, his hands were shaking and his face was panicked.

"Draco!" she exclaimed loudly, tears in her eyes, causing him to stop and look at her. "We're not going to leave like this. Where are we going to go?"

He realised he had sent her to the edge of a panic attack. He put the books he'd grabbed into the bag before approaching her, kneeling by the bed, his face level with hers.

"Forgive me, love," he whispered, catching her face between his palms. "I– I'm figuring it out. Bina will come with us. I'm her only master and she's totally loyal to me."

"What about your Dark Mark?" sobbed Hermione. "You-Know-Who will find you quickly if you don't fulfil your duties to him!"

He closed his eyes painfully and then she realised.

"No!"

"I don't have a choice, Hermione," he whispered, looking away.

She pressed a hand over her mouth, and Draco hugged her tightly. He had no choice. It was the only way. He didn't have enough time to come up with a different plan. They had to leave as soon as possible.

It took a few minutes for her to calm down and Draco wiped her tears with great tenderness, turning his reassuring gaze into hers. She was never afraid when she was in his arms, but when she saw in his grey irises that he was afraid. She sensed that they were about to do something incredibly risky.

"Can you stand up?"

She nodded and he kissed her quickly on the lips before continuing to gather things.

The kiss flashed her back to their first kiss, so similar to the one he had just given her.

They had been getting closer throughout their sixth year. Hermione noticed as soon as they got back to school that her famous nemesis, Draco Malfoy, had changed dramatically over the summer, and not for the better. He was constantly exhausted, weaker, thinner, frailer than he had ever been. He had stopped playing Quidditch, was skipping classes, and missed meals. She cared more about Draco than Harry had that year.

One night, she'd bumped into him on top of the Astronomy Tower. She had been ready to lecture him – since he was no longer a prefect – but quickly cut herself off when she saw him on the edge of the tower's railing. He wasn't there to enjoy the view.

She saved his life that night. She prevented him from doing the irreparable and without her intervention, without her determination to bring him down, she would never have seen his grey eyes again.

A strange relationship had developed between them. At first, he had avoided her, making it impossible for them to talk. She didn't see him again until the Christmas holidays. When they returned, he came to see her. He had appeared out of nowhere one evening during rounds and brought her to an isolated room.

At first she resisted, confused, but her curiosity got the best of her and she followed. He locked them in the classroom and remained silent for many, many minutes, pacing in front of her.

Then, finally, he told her. Everything. He'd told her about his mission, about what he'd had to do since Voldemort gave him the mark. He was remorseful about his desire to join the resistance, to fight the monster that was destroying his life.

To say that she had been shocked by such revelations was an understatement. She had never expected anything like this. She had suspected, partly because of Harry's suspicions, that he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, but she had clearly not expected this. She could hardly believe it. Did he trust her because she had saved him from certain death? Was it because she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix? She still wasn't sure.

However, when he panicked, his eyes widening as he realised what he had just done, she disarmed him. She was expecting him to try to obliviate her –which he had been– but she removed the spells from the room and fled.

He tried to catch her in the corridors several times to see if she had told anyone, but she managed to dodge him each time. She spent several nights awake thinking about everything. The situation had disturbed her more than anything else.

Finally, she caved and sought him out. In the same way he had done, she had pulled him into an empty classroom and disarmed him to prevent his escape.

For over two hours, in the middle of the night, Hermione tried to persuade him to believe she could help him, that the Order could help him. He didn't believe her at first, but she took out a bottle of Veritaserum and swallowed a few drops before repeating her same speech.

Before he could tell her he believed her, she proposed an Unbreakable Vow. He couldn't believe that she would be willing to put her life on the line for him, after only a week. She wouldn't give up and he had been forced to accept.

The vow was very clear; Draco would no longer follow Voldemort, except for the sake of the Order of the Phoenix, he would do anything to defeat him. Hermione promised to do whatever was needed to get him in Dumbledore's ranks and to help him out. She would give her life to protect him from the reprisals of his betrayal and if anyone accused Draco, she would be there to refute every word.

From that night on, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were linked. The next day, she spent hours persuading Harry of Draco's pure intentions. It was only when she told him of the vow that he believed her.

Draco had told her about his family connection to Severus Snape and how he could help his case. Several times after that, Hermione forced Draco to meet her in the middle of the night to brainstorm ways to keep him safe.

She never understood what had motivated her to help him. Perhaps it was seeing him on the edge of that railing before Christmas. Or perhaps it was the sincerity and sensitivity she had discovered in his eyes. She didn't know. Yet she had done it. She had helped him as she would have helped her best friends.

But he wasn't. He wasn't her friend and never had been. The meetings soon turned into dates where they discovered more about each other. It hadn't taken Hermione long to break through his shell and see what he was hiding inside, who he was. Draco deconstructed, one by one, the prejudices he had always had about her. He discovered a young woman who was intelligent, funny, sensitive and full of convictions.

A connection had been created between them. Something strong, incredibly strong. They were both risking their lives to see each other. They wanted to get out of this together.

Snape had agreed to their plan immediately, revealing his unique place in the Order. They met unbeknownst of Dumbledore, because of their professor's vow.

Severus had taken it upon himself to tell the headmaster about his godson, without mentioning any mission or his growing relationship with Hermione Granger. He had merely repeated how much Draco wanted to switch sides, trying to change Dumbledore's mind about Draco. Hermione continued working on getting her friends to change their perspective on Draco.

Draco continued to look for a way to kill Dumbledore, despite everything. Both Hermione and Severus persuaded him that he should continue to give his parents and the Death Eaters information, despite his desire to give up the horrible mission. If they couldn't convince the Order to take Draco into their ranks and protect him, he would have no choice but to continue living under his parents' roof, which meant it needed to look like he was still making progress.

The deadline came far too quickly for their liking. Hermione had managed to convince Ron and Harry of Draco's innocence, but Severus hadn't convinced the other members of the Order. And then everything happened.

She and Draco had exchanged their very first kiss that night. Draco had finally revealed how he felt about her, and she hadn't hesitated in reciprocating those feelings. He kissed her quickly, before leaving.

Hermione cried a lot that night. Hours later they were gathering around Dumbledore and the escape of Draco and Severus had answered her questions. Snape had made it clear that if he was leaving with them, it was because he was forced to act in Draco's place. While their headmaster's death was tragic, Hermione felt a great sense of relief knowing Draco hadn't committed murder.

She never knew how he found out, but a letter from Dumbledore was discovered a week after his death. The letter told Moody, Remus and Shacklebolt how Draco Malfoy had to be protected, without any further explanation. He didn't mention Snape and it saved Draco. Everyone was still sceptical about these words, but two days later, the Order brought Draco into its ranks, managing to get him out of the manor.

"Hermione?"

She snapped back to reality. Turning her eyes to Draco, she saw that he had stopped and was watching her. She apologised quietly and he sighed, relieved to see that she was okay as he started to move again.

She did the best she could to get dressed, without alerting him by the slowness of her movements. She didn't want him to waste any more time helping her. From the urgency of his movements, she understood that they had very little time before Astoria arrived.

He explained that Bina was preparing supplies and clothes for them so they could leave as soon as possible. Apparently, he had been awakened by the elf, who had come to warn him that Astoria was on her way. One of his fiancée's elves had noticed Hermione's absence from the cell and immediately contacted her mistress.

It would take her about half an hour to get back to the manor, and they didn't have much time left.

Once dressed, Hermione tried to stand up and help Draco. Her legs were much steadier than earlier, so she could at least assist him with a few tasks.

She was busy gathering the scrolls of research on horcruxes when Bina burst into the office.

"Master! Mistress Astoria and other men have arrived at the manor gate!" she exclaimed in a panicked, squeaky voice.

Draco immediately turned to Hermione, shoved everything the elf had prepared in the beaded bag and approached her.

"We're going to run, do you think you are able?" he said with a sense of gravity and worry.

She nodded as she grabbed his hand. He squeezed it back, turning to Bina.

"Did you get what I needed?" he asked her hurriedly, in a harsh voice.

"Bina didn't find it, Master," she said with a look of terrible regret, tears appearing in her eyes.

Draco swore loudly as he realised he only had a few minutes left to find it.

"Stay here, I'll be quick!" he said, already running to the office door. "If I'm not back in a minute, go without me," he ordered.

Hermione was overcome with fear and anxiety. Everything had happened so fast, and she was struggling to keep up.

She heard Bina start a countdown.

59.

58.

57.

She heard the clatter of the manor doors being forced open from afar. Astoria and the other men were trying to break the protective spells Draco had put in place.

Hermione closed her eyes, panicked tears rolled down her cheeks. Her head hurt.

45.

44.

43.

42.

Her heart was pounding. She thought about having to leave without Draco, abandon him here. What the hell was he looking for?

32.

31.

30.

She heard Astoria's awful voice order a man to go after her, before shouting Draco's name. She could hear the man's footsteps from inside the office.

24.

23.

What if Draco didn't come back in time? What would she do without him? They had just found each other again! He couldn't go without Bina!

10.

9.

Her head was spinning.

"Stop him!"

She heard screaming, as several hurried footsteps were heard in the nearest corridor.

She saw Draco appear at the door, holding both their wands in his right hand and the Sword of Gryffindor in the other, which he threw at Bina. To her horror, she then saw him slice his left forearm with a spell, causing him to scream.

As she reached out to him, tears streaming down her cheeks, Bina grabbed her. She saw Astoria appear in the doorway and wave her wand at them.

3.

2.

Their fingers were only inches apart when she heard Astoria.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green lightning flashed across the room.

The darkness came.

---

Thanks to Genny, BBTea and Pax for their proofread work!

The fanart is from Elivrayn on Instragram!