Recap:

"What kept you?" Hermione asked, cupping Draco's face in her hands.

"Not now," he whispered, his voice husky. He captured her lips, backing her down the hall towards their room. He was fiery with passion, and, all of a sudden, so was she.


Chapter 3: Share The Hate

"I missed you," she breathed, pulling at his sopping cloak. He didn't answer, but buried his face in her neck, his fingers clawing at her airy nightgown. Once over her head, she was left naked in the dancing firelight of the candle on the bedside table. Her stomach was still taught and well-muscled, her skin as creamy and inviting as ever.

She fumbled with his belt buckle, grunting at it in irritation, her desire mounting like a bad fever. After they were both free of clothing, Draco laid his wife on the bed as gently as if she were made of glass. He kissed her soft stomach, her warm breasts, the insides of her thighs, pushing her passion to new levels.

"Don't tease me," she hissed, though was not at all angry. He pulled himself up to her face, grinning with seduction.

"I would never dream," he purred in her ear, his hot body pressed to hers. It didn't matter that the rain had only furthered the heat, making it now humid and sticky. They were both already covered in a sheen of sweat, but neither paid it any attention.

All at once Hermione felt complete, her husband, the love of her life, pumping himself vigorously into her. His grunts matched her moans, their bodies working in sync with one another. When they released, it was all too soon and were both immediately ready for more.

"I never thought I could want someone this badly," Hermione whispered, panting. Draco rolled over, his hands firmly on her hips, to rest on his back. He smirked up at her, and she smirked back.

By three o'clock they were not surprisingly exhausted, though still filled with passion. They satisfied themselves with wet kisses here and there, and husky words of desire.

"Tomorrow," Draco said, his body simply unwilling to do what he wanted, what he craved. It seemed silly to him suddenly that he had ever been with another person, ever even wanted another. Hermione was all there was, all there should be. How could he have not seen that before?

"Why did I ever resist you?"

"You were stupid and foolish. But I may forgive you someday."

"Oh really?" she teased, kissing a trail up his chest. She stopped just above his lips. "Well, without adequate forgiveness, I will be forced to feign prudishness."

"How's this for forgiveness?" Draco snapped, flipping her over onto her back. She was about to protest, to say that they were both too tired for another go, when she felt his searing and experienced tongue on her, pushing hungrily inside her. Her entire body tensed, her hands clutching the bed sheets as if they would support the great waves of ecstasy that were consuming her.

She shuddered with release, then went limp. Between her legs Draco chuckled, blowing hot air on her and making her shiver.

"Stop," she breathed, her voice heavy, her eyes drooping. "I love you Draco."

He came up beside her, crushing her wonderfully against him in his drowsiness.

"I love your body, Hermione."

"Ass," she yawned.

"Witch," he retorted.

"Good night."

"Night…"


It was nearly lunchtime by the time Draco and Hermione made their way downstairs. Melantha had taken care of Dante, bathing and feeding and changing him. Hermione knew the reason for such focused and unasked for aid was due to the fact that she was unable to raise her own son. And she allowed this attention, making sure that she was also there every step of the way to be a complete part of her child's life.

Kamal greeted Hermione with such enthusiasm one would think she'd just returned from a suicide-mission. Draco glared hotly, but said nothing and tucked himself behind the kitchen table to await his lunch. Dante sat in a highchair beside him, tugging every now and then at his father's ear and giggling madly when Draco would snort in irritation.

"Where are your parents?" Hermione asked casually, though the palms of her hands began to perspire. They couldn't be far, and she doubted the reason for the absence had little to do with anything but herself.

"It's the most amazing thing!" he answered, all smiles. Draco looked up from the Scottish Prophet, his nose wrinkled. "Melantha gave them a message from Dumbledore and they Apparated to go meet him!"

"They left the house!" She dropped the roll she had been reaching for, her entire body suddenly numb. "When!"

"A few hours ago," he informed her, though now he seemed slightly off. "I would have loved to go with them, only they needed someone familiar to stay at the house."

"Just what the Order needs," Draco muttered under his breath. "A pair of lunatics Apparating from their self-inflicted house arrest. Perrrrfect."

Kamal stood, his wand out. Hermione let out a sound of protest, not believing her eyes.

"Please," he said through his teeth, and Hermione realized it was the first time she'd seen him angry. And it truly scared her. He didn't have proper training; he was likely to blow the house out from under them, "refrain from speaking about my parents that way. Their situation is something you know nothing about."

"You can't get something for nothing," Draco shot back, though he played the part of the calm, collected arbitrator. "I don't appreciate the way you look at my wife, or the way you talk to her." Though his words were reasonable, his tone suggested bodily harm at the next slip-up. "Just because you've been locked away for eighteen years with your psychotic parents doesn't give you the right to slobber over someone else's wife."

"I do no such thing! I respect Hermione's boundaries! She is not some doll to be played with!"

"If you so much as look at her in a way I don't approve you will regret the sorry day you were born! Is that quite understood?"

Though she wanted to scream and stamp her foot, all Hermione could do was stare at the scene before her. Why did men insist on arguing over her as though it were none of her business? She ought to slap the both of them for causing her son to cry.

She pushed past her husband and plucked Dante from his highchair, then left the room without a word. At the moment she didn't give a damn if they ripped each other's heads off. At least she would have some peace and quiet. Wasn't the reason they came her to be safe and stress free? It seemed she had nothing but Draco-induced stress and the threat of him attacking Kamal.

"That's what I get for marrying a Slytherin," she sighed.


Draco paced the length of his aunt/mother's bedroom six or seven times before he even attempted to speak. His nerves were shot and the last thing he needed was what had just occurred in the kitchen with Hermione and Kamal. She was refusing to speak with the both of them and was currently holed up in their room with Dante, plotting their imminent deaths, he supposed.

"How does he know about Galen?" he blurted out, halting mid-step. Melantha took a long sip of her tea, very calm beside the fact that her son was coming undone before her eyes and all their lives were in complete peril. The too-sweetness of her tea seemed to be the most important thing at the moment.

"He has probably known for many years," Melantha offered. "Only he wouldn't have been worth a second thought until now. I'd imagine the both of them returning this evening very much in hysterics. They've spent most of their lives in seclusion, hiding from the very thing we brought to their door. I doubt we would still be here if not for Dumbledore."

"Hmph," Draco groaned. "Dumbledore."

"Do you not think he's doing all in his power to protect us?"

"I think he's growing senile. I want to take Hermione and Dante somewhere else, somewhere further from here. Like America."

"Distance doesn't necessarily guarantee safety."

"You sound just like the old man!"

"Don't get angry with me, Draco! I'm trying to help you! You would think you'd be a little more grateful!"

"Grateful!" he spat. "For what? Causing this whole mess!" Melantha looked simply appalled. "If you hadn't been so weak to give me away none of this would have happened!"

"You're right! It wouldn't have! You would have been dead before your first birthday!"

"What's going on in here!" came an angry and bitter voice through the door. An instant later Galen stomped in, his eyes unforgiving.

"NOTHING!" Draco and Melantha answered together. Sitara appeared at her husband's side, with possibly her first frown in eighteen years plastered across her face.

"This is not going to work out," Sitara said, sounding very much like her husband. "You cannot stay here."

"Good," Draco hissed. "We didn't plan to." He shoved his way out of the room, calling for Hermione before he was even out the door. She appeared in the hallway, looking anxiously. Clearly she had heard the whole fight through the wall.

"We can't leave, Draco," she said, glancing around as if the danger were upon them. "We can't endanger Dante or the baby." She hugged herself around the middle, backing away from her husband's advances.

"Damn it, Hermione! We have to go! This place is no longer safe!"

"But it's under the Fidelius Charm! How can it not be safe!"

"These people—" He gestures wildly to the group that is now formed in the hall. "—want nothing more than to go back to their boring little lives in seclusion! And we are in their way! We're not safe!"

"That's a lie!" Sitara snapped. "We will do anything that Dumbledore asks us. You are in no danger of us!"

"Dumbledore asked you to allow us to stay here! Not a moment again you told us to leave! Don't add hypocrite to your already long list of hopeless human attributes!"

"I was not speaking to you! I was telling your whoring mother to leave! She needs no protection and she has very much over-stayed her welcome!"

"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way!" Draco roared, producing his wand with such speed Hermione couldn't recall if he'd been holding it all along. "Her husband was murdered before her eyes only minutes before she was raped by his attacker! She has done nothing to you and yours and still you treat her lower than a dog! She has suffered and you make her suffer more! Is their no shame in your dysfunctional hell hole!"

The house grew so silent all of a sudden that Draco's heavy breathing was all that was heard.

"There is nothing I would love more than to Apparate as far from here as I can get," Draco said slowly, calculating. He stepped back and took hold of Hermione's arm. "But I have a duty as a husband and a father to protect my family, no matter the consequences. We will stay here until Dumbledore says otherwise, and so will my mother. You have no right to kick her out."

Draco, Hermione, and Melantha ducked into Hermione and Draco's room, where Dante was fast asleep in his afternoon nap, leaving the Blakes stunned in the hall. But they were only blessed with a few minutes of silence, for soon the house was alive with strained screams again.

All those not involved in the family affair pressed themselves against the door to better hear.

"What do you mean you're leaving!" Galen stammered. "You can't leave!"

"I'm three years past the legal age!" came Kamal's defiant voice. "I may do whatever I choose. And I choose to join the Order. I'm leaving tonight."

"Tonight!" Sitara's voice was choked with sobs. "But—"

"I cannot be persuaded to stay, mother. I realize that my time spent here has been useless. I will not sit around and fear an enemy I have never seen! I intend to train myself day and night to be prepared for my chance to fight!"

"You'll be killed!"

"I would rather die in battle than die a coward," he hissed. There was a clamor of footsteps, the slamming of the front door, then an outburst of uncontrollable sobbing. Hermione gathered that Kamal had not been taught to Apparate so he couldn't run away. She also assumed that the reason his parents didn't try to follow him was because they knew it would only cause more harm and a deeper rift.

"That was unexpected," Draco said dryly, taking a seat on his bed.

"That was noble," Hermione said, and Draco huffed. "Well it was."

"We need to discuss some things," Melantha said, grabbing their attention; Hermione's more so than Draco's. "It's about what Dumbledore wanted."

"Yes?"

"You better sit down."


"Would do you mean he's after Ron?" Hermione seethed through her teeth, only partially aware of the fact that Dante had woken and Draco was changing him by the window. "How did this happen!"

"The Order received a tip a few days ago," Melantha said as easily as she could. "Voldemort caught wind of the fact that you knew he was after you. He knew Draco would take you into hiding and so he's targeting your weaknesses."

Draco snorted, covering it as a cough.

"What about Harry and Ginny?" was her next thought. Surely he would be after them next.

"Well," she sighed. "Harry will always be at the center of Voldemort's thoughts. And Ginny is the thing that's most precious to him. I mean, not to say that Draco and Dante aren't so for you, but he can't get to them so he's going after the next best thing."

"How childish!"

Melantha let out a slight chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. Voldemort was, and always would be, very childish. Evil, cunning, and ruthless, but always very, very childish. Though neediness was never a factor. If he could he would reach his goals without the aid of others. He never needed people.

Hermione, on the other hand, needed those around her. For stability, for love, for company. They were her weakness, a very obvious and pain weakness that caused her great anguish now. She had put her best friends in danger. And all over something as trivial as blood!

"I hate blood!" she shouted suddenly, startling everyone into silence. "All the nonsense about pureblood and half-blood and what have you. It disguises itself as a bid for power, but blood has nothing to do with it! Voldemort is a half-blood!"

"But he's the heir of Slytherin," Draco pointed out. "The taint of blood can be overlooked with such heritage."

Hermione glared daggers at him, knowing that he was only trying to help, though she didn't feel sorry. Not at the moment when her emotions were being tossed around like a grimy old dog toy. It wasn't his fault that he had been brought up the way he had, forced into a life of hatred and bigotry. She was lucky that he turned out to be such a sweet and caring man, despite his sour disposition. He actually turned out quite wonderful.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione groaned. "I have the cards stacked against me. I'm a half-blood and muggle-born. I'm married to a blood traitor of high society. And I have the will and capacity to love…I'm screwed."

"Why are you being to cynical about this!" Draco barked. "You, of all people, I would expect more from. A declaration of undying loyalty to your people and what you stand for. Not for you to lie down and wait to die."

"Well excuse me for not being so gung-ho about everything all the time! I have a right to be depressed at a depressing situation! I'm holed up in this place, with people who don't want me and hate me; I'm being hunted; my friends are being hunted; and I can't do a damn thing about it except wait! It's the worst place for me! I should be out there fighting but instead I'm here having this argument with you!"

"You'll be glad for these arguments when I'm gone," Draco said coolly, then stomped out of the room, their son cradled in his arms.

"What did he mean by that?" Hermione was still too angry for her voice to express the new emotion that was pulling at her heartstrings: fear. And perhaps a bit of guilt.

"I don't know," Melantha moaned, grabbing her head. "War brings out the worst in people!"

"You don't think he'd do something irrational, do you?"

"He's far too protective of you to go off like an idiot and try to fight a losing battle. He knows you would follow him, thus bringing you into the danger he was trying to keep away…He's probably gone to sulk downstairs where he can glare openly at Galen and Sitara." She walked to the door, though had no intention of leaving just yet. They had a few more things to discuss. "I'll keep an eye on him anyway though," she added, then came back into the room.

"He really worries me, you know."

"I know. But, then again, it's all part of being married. For better or for worse, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione laughed bitterly. "But I was under the impression that 'or' meant the opposites were interchangeable."

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Woo! So that was a little of something. I think next time I'll put in a scene back in England with the others, just for a change of scenery. I like how this is going…Poor Hermione and Draco, things are just not going well for them. And Kamal! Whoa! Who knows what kind of trouble he'll get into on his own with no survival skills…One can only imagine ;P

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