Here it is, the promised chapter. I don't know if FF.net told everyone that I've replaced the Author's Note with the rightful chapter, but here it finally is! It's substantially longer than the other chapters, and I hope it's satisfactory after such a long wait. My computer still isn't fixed, but I'll make an effort to try to hammer out some more chapters as soon as I may.

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When Hermione awoke, she instantly knew that Draco was gone. The room was cold, and she could feel the draft from the window that had been blown open when he left. She sighed and snuggled deeper beneath her sheets. Her hand snuck out to lie on the place where he had slept beside her. It was still warm, although the cold in the room was rapidly leeching the warmth from the sheets. Her fingers curled into a small fist, as if by touching that place she would be able to somehow touch him. She peeked from beneath the sheets and saw the glitter of gold on her finger, and couldn't suppress the smile that stretched across her face. I'm married, she thought with a little thrill. She immediately sobered a moment later. She couldn't go downstairs and sing out to the whole world that she was the new Lady Malfoy like she wanted to. There were secrets to be kept, and if they weren't kept well enough then she would bring destruction upon everything that she held dear.

She set her jaw stubbornly. She wasn't going to live in fear from Draco's father. She had made Draco promise not to kill him, and she had no intention of doing so herself. But she wouldn't hesitate if he threatened someone she cared about. Unexpectedly, a smile curled her lips. That was the same answer Draco had given her. Obviously they were more alike than either of them cared to admit. She grinned to herself for a moment, then pondered how to make the elder Malfoy accept his son's marriage to a Muggle-born. She chewed anxiously on her lip until she heard Ginny tap on the door. She sat up in response and abruptly realized she was completely naked. She yelped softly and scrambled out of bed to haul on an oversized shirt, then let Ginny inside.

Ginny blinked at her appearance. "Hermione! What are you doing still asleep? I came up here to check on you. You're going to be late!"

"Late?" Hermione repeated blankly. "Late for what?"

Ginny goggled at her. "Late for class! What did you think?"

Hermione stared at her for a stricken moment. "Holy God!" she yelped, lunging for the clock to spin it towards her. It cackled at her and gleefully showed her the time. She made a mad dash for the shower, leaving a relieved and amused Ginny in her wake. Ginny heard the shower turn on and patiently went to sit on the bed to wait for Hermione to emerge. From above the noise of the shower, Ginny called t her, "And why were you sleeping so late, missy?"

There was a long silence. "I was up late studying," Hermione finally said, and Ginny smiled wryly.

"Sure you were," she murmured under her breath, skimming her eyes over Hermione's room. It was as familiar to her as her own, and felt just as safe. She had come here and wept in Hermione's arms when she had been lovestruck over Harry, listened to Hermione tutor in her Charms and laid in that bed and had girl-talk with Hermione many a night. Hermione's room had been a refuge of safety and serenity when Ginny's problems had grown too large to handle on her own. Feeling nostalgic, Ginny's gaze skimmed over the bookcase and past, then she frowned, something jarring her from her memories. There was something out of place. Frowning to herself, Ginny rose and walked over, her fingertips lightly tracing the spines of the books. When she came to Hogwarts, A History, she paused and peered closer when she saw a piece of paper sticking out. She withdrew the book and opened the page.

A piece of parchment fluttered out and to the ground. Confusion deepening the lines in her forehead, Ginny bent down to pick it up, then stifled a gasp. The parchment was a key to one of Professor Snape's upcoming tests. She recognized the material from what she had seen Hermione studying a few days before. Her gaze unconsciously shot to the bathroom door, which was still closed. Then she stared down at the piece of parchment as if it were poison, her mind working frantically. She could only think of one reason for Hermione to have one of Snape's tests, and that was an utterly ludicrous thought. Hermione didn't need to cheat. Ginny had seen first-hand how smart Hermione was. So why would she have one of Snape's tests?

Ginny nibbled anxiously on her lip, torn about what she should do. Should she just put it back and pretend she had never seen it, or should she take it and ask Hermione about it later? She didn't even consider going to talk to Dumbledore about it. Although Hermione was on the fast track to becoming Head Girl, something like this would ruin her reputation, and she would probably be expelled. Just the though made Ginny's stomach lurch with nausea. When the bathroom door opened, Ginny stuffed the key into her pocket and slammed the book closed. Hermione gave her an odd look as she rushed out, toweling her hair dry frantically. "What on earth are you doing, Gin?"

"Reading," Ginny blurted out. "I was just. . .reading."

"This early?" Hermione muttered, more concerned about getting her hair dry and pulling on her underwear than with her friend's reading habits. Ginny gulped and carefully put the book back, her hands trembling with nerves. She wanted to ask Hermione about the paper, but she was afraid to. Just the possibility of Hermione being expelled made her want to vomit. She could never have a hand in something that would devastate Hermione so drastically. So she kept her mouth shut and her eyes averted, not trusting herself to look Hermione in the eye until she had calmed down.

Minutes later, Hermione said impatiently, "What are you doing, Gin? Let's go!"

"I'm coming," Ginny said unsteadily, and followed Hermione out as the other girl rushed downstairs. She didn't even stop to get a cup of coffee, just rushed out the portrait hole. Harry was sitting on a sofa waiting for Ginny, muttering to himself. When she came downstairs, he narrowed his eyes at her pale face and dark eyes. "What's wrong?" he murmured as he rose to wrap one arm around her waist.

She shook her head at him as they moved slowly toward the portrait hole. She desperately wanted to talk to Harry, to hear what he thought she should do. Hermione was Harry's friend too. But Hermione was Ginny's best friend. Hermione didn't deserve to have this spread around school, even by accident. If it became necessary, Ginny would be the one to go to Dumbledore to plead Hermione's case.

Harry studied her with worried eyes. "You sure?" he asked softly. "I'm here, Gin."

She felt tears well up. God, she loved him so much. She buried her face against his shoulder for a moment, drawing strength from his lean, muscled body. Then she smiled up at him slightly. "I'm just fine, darling," she said quietly. "Go to class. I'll see you at lunch."

He hesitated, obviously torn between the desires to actually go to his class or to see what was wrong with her. When she gave him a firm shove, he sighed heavily. "We'll talk about this later," he said, his voice threatening. She grinned at him in response, feeling a little steadier.

"Of course we will," she said with a smile, then turned on her heel and strode toward her own class. Once she was out of Harry's sight, her smile faded and her face went grim. She would have to think on this. She would have to think on it a great deal.

********


Unfortunately, Hermione's first class was Divination. Not only did she hate the class, but Draco was in the class with her. Not that she didn't love her darling husband, but she was still flustered from almost being late. And she also wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him. He wasn't just her boyfriend now. He was her husband, and there was a deeper, stronger bond in that. She wasn't sure that everyone wouldn't know how she felt about him as soon as she looked at him. To prevent it, she kept her head down as she walked into the room and sat at her desk. She could almost feel his frown as he stared holes in her back. She hid her secretive smile behind a cloud of hair.

Moments later, Trelawney swept into the room. "Hello, class!" she called gaily. "Did everyone have good dreaming last night?"

"Peachy," Hermione muttered under her breath, shuffling through her papers to find her essay.

Trelawney's attention zeroed in on her immediately, and Hermione wished she had kept the sarcastic comment to herself. Draco is rubbing off too much, she thought grumpily as Trelawney stepped up to her desk. "And you, Miss Granger? How are you feeling?"

Hermione blinked rapidly. "Fine," she said cautiously. She didn't want to ask why Trelawney had even asked the question. That would open a can of worms that she didn't even want to go near. But the woman answered her question anyway. "I simply asked, Miss Granger, because there has been a shadow around you of late."

"A shadow," Hermione repeated blankly, even as she damned herself for asking.

Trelawney nodded vigorously. "Yes, Miss Granger. A shadow. That's what gave you those bruises had you had a few weeks ago."

The classroom fell deathly silent, and Hermione felt her face freeze. "No, Professor," she said as calmly as she could even as rage burned her throat and fear made her hands tremble. "A shadow didn't give me those bruises. A person did."

Trelawney shook her head stubbornly. "No, Miss Granger. A person did not. I have seen it in a vision."

Hermione felt her muscles tighten. Don't say it, don't say it, she told herself frantically. But she couldn't help it. Her frustration with not knowing who had attacked her and her dislike of Trelawney and her 'skills' combined to make the comment burst from her mouth. "Well, I saw it with my own eyes, Professor. It was a person. A person who wrapped their fingers around my throat and tried to kill me. A person who chased me down the hallway and laughed at my attempts to escape. So excuse me for saying so, Professor, but I believe my vision was clearer than yours."

Trelawney cleared her throat several times as she worked for what to say. Her eyes had opened wide, and Hermione could feel the shock and horror that was emanating from the rest of the class. Finally Trelawney said stubbornly, "I stand by my vision, Miss Granger. It was a shadow. But I can say no more than that." Then she swept away and started class, leaving Hermione grinding her teeth at the woman's arrogance and sheer blindness.

Hermione barely paid attention through class and just sat fuming. She didn't know why Trelawney's prediction made her so angry. But she had almost pushed aside the memory of her attack, and Trelawney's insistence that it was a non-corporeal creature that had put those bruises on her throat made her unreasonably angry. Class passed by in a blur while Hermione basically ignored everything that was going on around her. When she felt everyone rising around her, she glanced around in surprise. She hadn't realized that she had been sulking for the whole class period. She gathered up her things and risked a glance in Draco's direction. He was watching her through his lashes with narrowed eyes. She gave him a small, quirked smile, then hurried into the hallway.

She bumped into Blaise Zambini and almost lost her balance, stumbling backwards until his hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm in a grip that made her gasp. He jerked her forward again; his eyes lit with hate. "Watch where you're going, bitch," he hissed at her, and she gasped again and before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him.

Surprised, he released her, his hand going to his cheek. "You hit me," he said stupidly, and she curled her lip at him.

"Don't ever come near me again, Zambini," she said coldly. "Or you'll get more than a slap."

"Threats?" he asked silkily, and she lifted her chin in disdain.

"I'm not going to have this talk again with you, Zambini. It's getting old. Stay away from me."

He sneered at her. "We'll see who laughs last, mudblood."

She put one delicate hand to her lips to conceal a yawn. Above her hand, her eyes were watchful. "How very trite, Zambini. But then, you never did have much creativity."

His eyes flashed with rage, and he took a step toward her. Just then Draco materialized behind her and stepped between them. He slapped Zambini on the shoulder a little harder than necessary and bared his teeth at him. "Zambini! What's going on, man?"

Blaise eyed him for a moment as Draco turned his back to the fascinated crowd and said in a low voice, "Back off, Zambini. Touch her again and I'll take off your hands."

Blaise sneered at him and held up his hands in a gesture of pacification. "Fine," he said in an equally low voice. "I won't touch your little mudblood."

Draco gritted his teeth at the insult, but to take Blaise to task again would be too conspicuous. He walked quickly away before he gave into the urge to beat Blaise to a pulp for manhandling Hermione. Blaise followed in his footsteps, his face disgruntled. But inside he was smiling as the pieces of his puzzle started to fall into place.

*********

That night, Hermione was studying in the common room when Crookshanks stalked into the common room and jumped up into the seat with her. She scowled down at him when he sent her parchment flying. "Crooky, damn it all," she muttered, bending down to pick up her essay for Potions. When she straightened, she realized that Crookshanks had a note tied to his neck. Surprised, she untied the note from Crookshanks. As soon as he was free, he leaped down and started to frantically groom his fur, as if she had soiled him. Rolling her eyes at the oddities of cats, she unrolled the parchment and scanned it.

Miss Granger,

Please come to my office immediately. Draco Malfoy will accompany you.

~Professor Dumbledore

Hermione's heart rammed against her ribs in fear. Why did Dumbledore want to see her? And why was Draco, of all people, going to escort her? It would be more sensible for Ron or Harry to go—they were her friends, and they lived in her House. Did Dumbledore suspect something was between Draco and Hermione? They had been so careful, and now she wasn't sure that they had somehow given themselves away. It was one thing if Dumbledore knew that they were involved—it was even more serious if he actually knew that they were married. Hermione gnawed anxiously on her lip, her gaze far away. Then she rushed upstairs to grab her wand and a cloak, then went back downstairs. There was no sign of Crookshanks, so he had obviously stalked off to nurse his emotional wounds of being an errand-cat.

She pulled on the cloak, trying to ignore the little fear that wouldn't go away. It was already dark, and although there were still students around, she didn't like walking the corridors in the dark anymore. She took a deep steadying breath, then stepped outside the portrait. She glanced around the dimly lit corridor nervously, fingering her wand. A moment later, a lean figure detached from where he had been leaning against the wall and stepped toward her. She yelped and flung out her wand, her mouth opened to curse the person into oblivion. But as he stepped into the light, her hand fell limply to her side.

Draco smiled wryly at her. "Tense, love?"

"Don't tease," she said tersely. "You scared me to death, Draco."

"Sorry about that," he said, although there was a definite twinkle in his eyes that belied the apology.

She wrinkled her nose at him and called him an uncomplimentary name under her breath. "Can we just go?"

"Absolutely." He turned on his heel as she caught up with him and they started walking toward Dumbledore's office. She shot him a sideways glance and nearly glared. He looked supremely unconcerned about her safety, even had the nerve to hum under his breath. Fine escort he is, she thought irritably. Fine husband he is!

"Aren't you worried about my attacker?" she hissed at him.

He shot her a lazy glance. "No. You're not alone. He won't bother you."

She glared at him, feeling her tension rise higher the farther they went from Gryffindor Tower. "Why are you so sure?" she asked nastily, her hand clenched so hard around her wand that her knuckles were white.

Draco sighed and pulled her around a corner and glanced around for a moment. Then he pulled her hands from her pockets and kissed her knuckles. "Don't worry, little one," he murmured softly. "No one's going to hurt you."

"You're going to protect me?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow, but her voice lacked the venom it had had moments before.

He arched his eyebrow back at her, a smirk on his face. "Did you ever doubt it?" His voice lowered to a whisper. "You're my wife. No one is going to touch you."

She snatched her hand back and refused to look into his persuasive mercury eyes. "Oh really? Like Zambini did today?"

He didn't respond, and she glanced up at him, surprised at his silence. Then she almost took a step back. His eyes were like glittering knives, and for one moment she was almost afraid of him. "Zambini won't go unpunished," he said coldly. "He laid hands on you. What I did to Weasley will be nothing compared to what I do to Zambini."

Hermione blinked. She had thought that Draco had forgotten about the incident earlier today, simply because he had made no mention of it. Abruptly she realized that Draco's anger had been burning all day, he had just kept it tightly controlled. She sighed. Sometimes she severely underestimated her erstwhile husband. She laid a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw, and he glanced down at her, his eyes still hard. "Don't be angry," she said softly, kissing him again. "You once hated me like that too."

He shrugged that off impatiently. "But I never manhandled you," he said icily.

She sighed. "I know. But Blaise is different than you. Don't be too angry with him."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You've forgiven him? Just like that?"

"Of course not," she said with great dignity. "But I don't want you to kill him. I'm not adverse to a little threats or maybe a punch or two. But I don't want you to gut him."

Draco's smile spread, and some of the ice thawed from his eyes. He kissed her, lingering over it. When he drew away, he winked at her. "Looks like I've rubbed off on you a little bit, Granger."

She smiled up at him serenely. "I don't know about that, Malfoy. Shall we continue on to Dumbledore?"

"Absolutely." He peered around the corner to make sure the coast was clear, then strolled out, his hands shoved into his pockets. Hermione followed a moment later, and they walked the rest of the way to Dumbledore's office in silence.

When they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Draco cleared his throat and said clearly, "Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger to see the Headmaster."

There was silence in the hall for a moment, then the wall creaked away to reveal the familiar spiral staircase. Hermione led the way up the stairs, and from behind her she heard the wall close behind Draco. They finally came to the top and she rapped politely on the door that led into the Headmaster's office.

"Come in," he called from beyond, and she opened the door with a quick glance at Draco. She moved into the room, and smiled when Fawkes burbled a soft greeting.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking very old. There seemed to be more lines in his face than she remembered, and she sensed a heavy weariness in him. "Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Please have a seat."

Glancing warily at one another, they obeyed him. He leaned slightly forward to steeple his fingers thoughtfully. "Several things have come to my attention of late, and I thought that I would discuss them with you before I took any action."

Hermione blinked rapidly, and sensed Draco doing the same. "Sir?" she blurted out. What could Dumbledore possibly want their opinions on?

Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his chair. "Miss Granger, you might think that I have forgotten about the attack that was made on you. However, I have not. I have thought carefully over it, and still have come to no real conclusion. Suppositions, but I have no real evidence."

Hermione's body tightened, and Draco's jaw hardened. "Who do you think it is?" Hermione asked, hiding her trembling hands in her lap.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I don't believe that it's human, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked. That was the last thing that she had expected him to say. "Excuse me?"

Dumbledore sighed and his gaze ran over his desk. He picked up a small tin box on his desk and opened it, then held it out to them. "Lemon drop?"

Draco nearly growled, but he pressed his lips together to hold it back. "No," he said curtly. When Dumbledore offered it to Hermione, Draco said furiously, "She doesn't want one either. Could you get on with it?"

Dumbledore eyed him over his half-moon spectacles. "Do you often speak for the young lady, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco refused to blush, although he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. Then he immediately glared at Dumbledore for making him feel uncomfortable with something that was perfectly his right. Hermione was his wife. Of course he had reason to speak for her. "When it suits me" was all he said, and kept his eyes away from Hermione.

Hermione sighed. "No, Professor. I don't want a lemon drop. Could you please explain what you meant?"

Dumbledore took a lemon drop and popped it in his mouth. For long minutes, there was no sound in the room while Dumbledore pondered. Finally he said, "I believe that what attacked you was similar to the Erumpets that I spoke of last time that we had a conversation."

Hermione looked baffled, and Draco's face showed a rising irritation and confusion. "Could you be a little more specific?" Hermione said cautiously.

Dumbledore laced his fingers together on his desk. "I believe that what attacked you was something called a fetch."

Hermione blinked. "A fetch?" she repeated. "But sir—it was a man. It was too strong to be otherwise."

"They are not human, Miss Granger. Their strengths are far greater than our own."

"Could someone please tell me what the hell we're dealing with here?" Draco snarled. "What the hell is a fetch?"

"There's no need for profanity, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said quietly.

Draco turned on him with a snarl. "I believe there is, Professor. Hermione might tolerate your wandering around an important topic, and so might Potter, but I'm not going to. I want to know what the hell is threatening my wife!"

His voice had raised to a shout by the last word, and he clamped his mouth shut, too late to take back the revelation. Hermione groaned. "Nice work, slick."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "Your wife, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco sighed. Well, he had already blurted out the truth. Might as well finish it. "Yes. Hermione is my wife. We were married last night."

Dumbledore blinked a few times. "Well. I sensed something was happening but I wasn't sure what that was. I assume that was the disturbance I felt in the Astronomy Tower?"

Draco arched his eyebrow sardonically in answer.

Dumbledore eyed him for a moment. "Indeed. Well this does put a new twist on things."

"To say the least," Hermione mumbled, and Draco shot her a quelling glance as he stared challengingly at Dumbledore. Did the old fool think that he was going to split him from Hermione? Draco wondered, his body tensed for a fight.

Dumbledore was silent for several minutes. "Indeed," he said again. "Well, I assume that neither of you want this to become public knowledge?"

"No," Hermione said quickly. "We don't."

Dumbledore studied her over the rim of his glasses. "Do you care to tell me why?"

"No," Draco said coolly. "We don't."

Hermione glared at him. "Draco!" she hissed. "What's your problem?"

He glared at her. "My problem is that you've been walking around mostly unprotected for weeks now after you were attacked. And he's just now getting around to telling you what he thinks is the problem? Obviously he doesn't think that your safety ranks very high on his list of prerogatives, Hermione."

"On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger's—or rather, Mrs. Malfoy—safety is of paramount importance to me."

"Obviously not, as your negligence for her safety becomes more clear," Draco said icily. "I've done my best to make sure that she's protected, but you can do more."

"Indeed I can, young man," Dumbledore said, his voice dropping a notch and becoming colder. Hermione bit her lip anxiously. She could tell that Draco's insolence was rapidly starting to irritate Dumbledore, and she definitely didn't want the most powerful wizard on earth to be angry with her husband. She had no desire to become a widow at such a tender age.

Hermione reached across the space that separated her from Draco and took his hand. He glanced down at their joined hands, then up at her. "Please," she said in an undertone. "Think about what you're doing."

"I am thinking," he said quietly, his voice like steel. "He's not been careful with you, Hermione."

She squeezed his fingers warningly. "Think with your mind, not your glands, Draco. Having you at odds with him won't solve anything. Work with him."

He hesitated, his common sense warring with his primitive male instincts. Finally he muttered, "Fine. I won't say anything more. Happy now?"

She squeezed his hand. "Yes," she said quietly. "Thank you, honey."

He grumbled under his breath but returned the hand squeeze. Then the pair glanced at Dumbledore, who was watching them closely. Dumbledore sat back in his chair for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Well," he said musingly, studying them both with a piercing look that made Hermione feel like he could see into her soul. "At first I was skeptical about the reasons for this marriage," he said calmly. "But having seen the effect that Miss Granger has on you, Mr. Malfoy, I think I might have to withdraw my doubts. She is obviously a calming and steadying influence on you, which I believe will make you stronger in the future. Always before your downfall has been your quick temper."

Draco bit back the scathing comment that wanted to rise to his tongue. Instead all he replied with was a curt "Yes." Absently, his thumb smoothed over Hermione's knuckles, a gesture meant to soothe both of them.

"May I continue with my explanation now?" Dumbledore asked, and Hermione nodded anxiously.

"Yes, Professor. Of course."

Dumbledore seemed to smile slightly. "There's no 'of course' about it, Lady Malfoy."

Hermione nearly glanced around for Narcissa before she realized that Dumbledore was addressing her. She blinked for a moment, then Dumbledore started to speak again. "A fetch is a creature that dons the form of the person that it is meant to destroy. It will look exactly like you, but there will be subtle differences. The inclusion of the color black somewhere on its person. Hence the black cloak that your attacker wore. It is substantially physically stronger than you. And it cannot speak."

"Why does Hermione have a fetch? Does everyone have one of these things?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. A fetch is created when there is a great deal of animosity directed toward a single individual."

Hermione's mouth opened in surprise. "Animosity towards me? But why?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot answer that question for you, Lady Malfoy, as I don't know the answer. But I do know that those whose hate makes the fetch must be in close proximity to each other. Hence why Lord Voldemort does not have a fetch of his own—the people who hate him are too widely spread to have their hatred coalesce into a fetch."

Hermione stared at Dumbledore in horrified silence. There were so many people that hated her that it had made a supernatural creature whose only purpose was to kill her. Her lip trembled, and she bit down hard on it. People hated her. The thought boggled her mind. She had always thought that she was fairly well liked, or at least tolerated. She didn't know that people hated her so much.

Draco's hand tightened around hers, his anger flaring. People didn't like Hermione. And now some creature was trying to kill her. The thought made him furious. And when he saw the quick sheen of tears in Hermione's eyes before her lashes swept down to shield them, his rage started to build. I'll search down every son of a bitch who helped make that damned fetch, and I'll kill them, he vowed to himself, his grip tightening on Hermione's hand until bone rubbed against bone.

She gasped, her gaze rising to meet his. She shook their joined hands gently. "Draco," she murmured, a soft catch in her voice. "Draco, you're hurting me."

He blinked, rising from his murderous thoughts to listen to her. Immediately he loosened his grip on her hand and kissed it apologetically. Then he looked over at Dumbledore, his eyes glittering. "How do we get rid of the fetch?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Kill it, unfortunately."

Draco laughed, but it was a sound full of dangerous edges. "I don't see how that's unfortunate. Considering that I was already planning on it anyway."

"A fetch is not like a normal person, Mr. Malfoy. It possesses a far greater strength than you think."

Draco shrugged negligently. "It ran when I came after it. Maybe it will run again. Maybe it's afraid of people."

Dumbledore seemed to age before their eyes. When he spoke, his voice was weary. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't believe you see the severity of what we're dealing with. A fetch is a supernatural creature, not just some boy that you can beat up because he insulted Miss Granger's honor."

Draco waved his free hand airily. "Same theory applies."

"No," Dumbledore said sharply. "It doesn't. You can not fight a fetch and win. The only person that can defeat a fetch is the person who it is meant to kill."

Hermione's hand tightened convulsively on Draco's. "Me?" she squeaked, her eyes opening wide. She was the bookworm, the planner. She didn't engage in duels or battles. That wasn't her forte. She gladly left that to Harry and Draco.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Miss—Lady Malfoy. Forgive me for my repeated uses of your maiden name," he said abruptly.

Hermione waved her hand impatiently. "It doesn't bother me. In fact, you should probably just stick with calling me by my maiden name. But back to the fetch. Why am I the one that has to kill it?"

"Because you are the person that all its energy is focused on. If you turn that back on the creature, it will fade away."

"And what's to stop these people from making another fetch against Hermione?" Draco demanded.

Dumbledore shook his head. "As far as I know, a fetch can only be made once. It takes many years for something like that to be created. It requires such strength of negative energy that it's nearly impossible to recreate. Much like chicken pox, once you've had one, you won't have it again."

"How reassuring," Draco muttered under his breath. Then he raised his voice. "But how can she kill it? With spells? Does she have to physically fight it?"

Dumbledore didn't reply for a moment, just took off his glasses and cleaned them in silence. Finally he said quietly, "I don't know."

There was complete silence in the room for a moment. "You don't know?" Draco said dangerously. "I thought you were the all powerful Dumbledore! Why don't you know?"

"Draco, shut up," Hermione snapped. She took a steadying breath. "Is that all you know about fetches, Professor?"

Dumbledore looked at her with troubled eyes. "I'm deeply grieved to say yes, Miss Granger."

Hermione took another breath. "Very well then. I'll try to do some more research on my own then. I appreciate your assistance."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Despite your husband's accusations, Miss Granger, your safety is of great importance to me. I will continue my own research, and hope that this ordeal will soon end for all of us."

"So do I," Hermione said quietly. "May we be excused?"

Dumbledore nodded, turning his head away to look pensively at Fawkes, who was snoring lightly on his perch. Hermione rose in silence as Draco did the same, still boiling with anger. She led him downstairs and into the darkened hallways. When he started to speak, she laid her finger gently across his lips. "Let's not discuss this now," she said softly. "There are too many ears to hear."

He glanced around. "No one's here, Hermione."

She shook her head. "We don't know that. Come on." They walked silently back to the Gryffindor Tower, Draco staying nearly glued to her side. He was no longer the indolent protector—his eyes were savage and sharp as they surveyed every nook and cranny of the halls that they passed through. His wand was gripped in his hand, and his jaw was clenched so hard Hermione wondered that he didn't break any teeth.

When they reached the portrait, Hermione stopped him from retreating to his dungeons with one hand. "Don't go," she whispered, looking up at him in the near-darkness. The hallways were dark, and a sliver of moonlight illuminated his glowing silver eyes. "Stay with me."

He hesitated. "You're not worried about getting in trouble?"

She shook her head with a little smile. "Dumbledore knows now. I'm not worried."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're not worried about the Weasel or Potty finding out?"

She gave him a light slap on the arm. "Don't call them that. And no, I'm not. They know already."

He smiled wryly. "In that case, how am I going to turn down that invitation?"

She smiled up at him, then turned to the beaming portrait. "The password is 'baby buggies'," Hermione told her, and the portrait swung open, dabbing at her eyes and sniffling.

Hermione stepped into the common room and glanced around. Before she could lean back to tell Draco that it was all clear, he crowded up behind her. Teasingly, he laid a light kiss on the back of her neck where he knew she was ticklish. She let out a soft gasp and jumped forward, giggling madly. "Stop that!" she hissed loudly, grinning madly. "We're going to get caught!"

He grinned unrepentantly at her and glided toward her. "I thought you didn't care."

She bit her lip to hide her smile as she circled around the couch as he slowly stalked her. "I did say that, didn't I?"

He smirked over at her. "Why are you running from me, little one?"

She grinned over at him. "You stay away from me," she said threateningly. "I don't want to be tickled."

He grinned devilishly at her. "Don't always get what you want, love." Then he lunged for her.

Mid-motion, he felt something slam into his stomach and send him flying backwards. He grunted, then slammed back into a sofa. He blinked and saw Harry looming over him, his green eyes savage. "Stay away from her," Harry snarled. "She's not for the likes of you, you Deatheater scum."

Draco snarled back at him and sat up. "And she's for you, is she, Potter?" he sneered. "Trying to take on the Weaslette and Granger? Ambitious man."

Harry's hand snapped out and twisted in Draco's shirt, bringing them eye to eye. "Don't call her that."

"What?" Draco asked him, his eyes flashing as he deliberately goaded the other man. "Weaslette?"

Harry slammed his fist into Draco's stomach. Obviously Draco had been waiting for it, because he lunged at Harry and sent them both sprawling on the floor, slamming punches at each other.

Hermione stared at them in shock. She whirled as she heard a footstep on the stairs behind her, and saw Ginny knuckling her eyes and yawning. "Mione?" she said sleepily. "What's going on down here?" Then she saw her boyfriend rolling around on the ground and trying his best to beat Draco to death.

She rushed forward, sharing a glance with Hermione. Hermione withdrew her wand and muttered something under her breath. The boys were jerked rudely away from one another, and each flew backwards to land on the softness of sofas. The two women hurried to their respective men to make sure that they were all right.

Draco was sporting a rising black eye, and he winced whenever he moved, which made Hermione think that he probably had a few bruised ribs. Harry had a cut across his forehead, and his mouth was bloody. His shirt was ripped at the shoulder, and he also seemed to have a few bruised ribs and what looked to be a twisted knee. When Hermione and Ginny got done fussing, they both stood back and planted their hands on their hips. "What on earth were you doing?" Ginny demanded of Harry, and he hung his head.

Draco smirked across the room at Harry before his own woman tore a strip off of him. "And what did you thinking you were doing, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione demanded. "Brawling in the Gryffindor common room! What if someone else besides Ginny had come down? Do you know how much trouble we would be in?"

"You said you didn't care if we got in trouble," Draco muttered rebelliously under his breath.

"I didn't care if we got in trouble for you being in my room. I do care about getting in trouble because you thought you had to have a stupid pissing match with Harry!"

"We weren't having a pissing match," he muttered.

She glared furiously at him. "Oh really? And what would you call it?"

He raised his head to glare balefully at her. "I was trying to kick his ass."

"Really? I didn't notice," she said sarcastically. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Harry looked contrite. She looked back at her husband and saw that he was glaring back at her. She rolled her eyes and sighed. She just had to be the one to get stuck with the pain in the ass husband. It was just too bad that she liked him that way.

"C'mon Rocky," she sighed. "Let's go upstairs and see if we can patch you up." He rose from the sofa, one hand pressed hard against his ribs. He shot Harry a dirty glare as he followed his wife upstairs and into her room.

He glanced back as she closed the door behind them and locked it. "Are your stairs not warded so boys can't come up to your rooms?" he asked suspiciously.

She shrugged. "Obviously it only works for Gryffindor boys. I guess the stairs never thought a boy from another House would come up here."

"Guess not," Draco muttered. Suppressing his groan of pain, he sat gingerly on the edge of her bed.

She looked at him from across the room and sighed. "This is twice now that I've had to patch you up, Draco. And all because you keep getting in fights because of me. This has to stop."

He glanced up at her. "That wasn't because of you, Hermione," he said curtly, easing his torso from side to side to see how badly he was hurt. "I just don't like the sorry bastard."

Hermione bit her lip and walked closer to kneel at his feet. "Here," she murmured softly, her eyes downcast. "Take off your shoes so you can lie down." She untied his shoes and then slipped them off his feet as he stared down at her bowed head.

Then she rose and helped him to move up on the bed so he could lie down. He stared at her in silence, startled by her gentle hands as she made him comfortable. He had never had anyone to cosset him or take care of him when he was sick. It was a new feeling, and one he found that he liked. When she started to rise from the bed, he caught her wrist. "Lie down with me," he said softly, his eyes intense as they met hers.

She didn't protest, just crawled back into bed to lie facing him. They stared at each other for long moments before Hermione said quietly, "I'm serious, Draco. I don't want to go through this again. Please try to get along with Harry."

"He's the one who started it, Hermione," Draco said, stung.

She bit her lip. "I'm going to talk to him too, but you were just as much a part of that as he was. I don't want to have to choose sides."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You make it sound like there's a choice," he said slowly. "You're my wife, Hermione. Your place is with me."

She glared furiously at him. "Don't tell me where my place is, Draco. It just so happens that I would choose to be with you. But I don't want to have to make the choice. They're my friends, Draco—my best friends. Don't make me lose them."

He scowled. "I haven't made them do anything. I haven't provoked them. They're the ones that are attacking me."

"You haven't provoked them lately," she agreed. "But you've been doing it for six years now, Draco. They've hated you for six years. Please make them see the other Draco. The one that I fell in love with."

"There's only one," he grumped.

She smiled lopsidedly and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You have so many different facets that I get dizzy trying to keep up with you," she teased gently. Then she sobered. "Please try. Please do this for me."

He hesitated and sighed heavily. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll try. I'm not making any promises."

He was rewarded with her dazzling grin and kiss. "Thank you," she whispered, nuzzling her nose into the curve of his shoulder. His arms went around her to hold her close, ignoring the twinge of pain from his abused ribs. He buried his face in her curls, and smelled her unique scent of vanilla and cinnamon. He briefly entertained the thought of trying to make love to his wife, then discarded it when his ribs protested at the smallest movement.

Instead he buried his hands in her curls and tilted her face up to meet his. "Tell me you love me," he demanded harshly. "I want to hear it."

Her chocolate eyes changed from confusion to gentleness. She laid her hand on his cheek that was rough with pale stubble. "I love you," she whispered, staring up at him. "I love you, I love you, I love you—" Her words were abruptly cut off when he seized her mouth with his and ravished it.

Finally she laid back against the pillows, out of breath and her heart hammering. Draco looked more relaxed, and he painfully moved down so that he could lay his head on her breast. The sound of her heart beating comforted him, and before he realized it he was asleep.

Hermione stayed awake longer, staring up at the ceiling. The weight and warmth of Draco's head on her breast made her stomach tighten into a little ball of pleasure and happiness. She loved him so much. He so rarely showed his vulnerabilities to anyone, and when he did she always wanted to cuddle him close. But she knew that if she even tried it he would bite her head off. She ran her hand gently over his back, wanting him to know that she was close even in his sleep. And eventually she fell asleep, her hand resting like a butterfly's kiss on Draco's back.

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Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or the universe in which they exist. They all belong to J.K. Rowling.