AN: Thank you so much for the comments, likes, and subscribes! I'm overwhelmed! I'm so glad you are enjoying the story. I think we are coming up on the midway point. I have plans for this story and I think it will probably be around 30 chapters in the end. Thanks for reading. Special thanks to my Alpha reader, LaDeeDaa who listens to my thoughts and motivates me to finish chapters that are sometimes hard to write. And special thanks to my beta, astrangefan, without whom I couldn't get these chapters out to you so quickly.

Potion Making

Hermione puttered around the kitchen looking for the pan she always used to cook eggs. Draco had taken over so much of the cooking she barely knew where anything was anymore. Normally, she'd have been perfectly content to have him cook breakfast, but she had to get out of the room.

Draco's outright forbidding her to do the counter curse on their Marks made her blood boil. Who the bloody hell did he think he was? If she volunteered, who was he to tell her she couldn't? She quickly excused herself before she said something she regretted and made her way into the kitchen where she found herself distracted and attempting to put together a meal that was at least edible.

Just as she found a pan, she heard the Floo activate. "Hermione?" It was Harry.

"In the kitchen!" she called, setting the pan down and rummaging through the fridge for some eggs.

Harry dropped heavily into one of the barstools at the large island and sighed. "Merlin, I'm beat," he confessed. "The Energy died down not long after we arrived, but the DMLE wanted extensive notes. Ron had to go home. He was dead on his feet."

"You don't look much better yourself," Hermione observed. Her best friend looked like he needed a shower, a shave, and about twelve solid hours of sleep. "Looks like you've been burning the candle at both ends lately."

"I know," he admitted. "Parvati is on me to cut back, but I just can't - at least not until this case is finished."

Hermione bit her lip as she considered telling Harry what she'd discovered about the Dark Mark curse but thought better of it. Harry was exhausted and whenever he found out what she was planning he'd inevitably try to talk her out of it. She didn't have the strength to argue with him about it at the moment.

"Well, if you want some breakfast, I'm about to make some eggs and toast," she offered.

Harry looked suspiciously at her and the pan on the oven. "Er…are you sure?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't have to cook these over a fire in the freezing Forest of Dean. I can make eggs."

"Okay, I'll stay," he finally agreed. She smiled and went to work scrambling the eggs and pouring them into the heated pan.

"So, how are uh, Nott and Malfoy?" Harry asked awkwardly. "Did they come 'round?"

"Yes," she answered. "When I returned from Hogwarts they were still out, but after a little nap I woke up to find them as good as new - or as good as they can be while a Dark Curse is moving up their arms."

"Er, that's good," Harry replied as if he didn't know what else to say.

"You don't have to like them, Harry," Hermione said, flipping the eggs around the pan. "I don't expect you to like them. Liking them isn't required for helping them escape injustice."

"I know," Harry said quickly. "I don't know anything about Nott, to be honest. Malfoy though…"

"I know," Hermione sighed. "Malfoy has wronged you in so many varied ways, I'd never plead with you to let it go, or leave it in the past. I'm not going to appeal to you to forgive and forget anything. Please don't feel like that's what I'm trying to do."

"I know you aren't, Hermione." Harry said, suddenly finding his confidence. "I know you aren't asking that. One of your best qualities is how compassionate and considerate you are. But…that's why I'm concerned," he finally admitted, "because Malfoy has wronged you, too - in some ways worse than me."

"I'm aware of that, Harry," she answered. But she didn't know how to explain why and how things had changed - not in a way that Harry would understand.

"I'm worried that your empathetic nature allows you to forgive too easily," Harry explained.

"Maybe I can forgive easier than some. I don't forget, though. I've not forgotten anything that Malfoy has done - especially to me. But I also don't want to hold him forever accountable for the sins of a boy - not when I have evidence that he's remorseful."

"Malfoy apologised to you?" Harry asked sceptically.

"More than once," Hermione said, her lips involuntarily crooking up at the end in a smirk at the shocked look on Harry's face.

She dished up the eggs and pulled the toast from the toaster. "Here, help me carry these upstairs," she said, pushing two plates into Harry's hands. He dutifully followed her up the stairs.

Theo and Draco had clearly been in the midst of a heated conversation that Hermione was not supposed to hear because each of them shut their mouths and eyed her guiltily the second she crossed the threshold of their room. Their eyes only doubled when they saw Harry come in after her carrying two plates.

She placed a plate on Theo's side table then Draco's before indicating for Harry to sit at the desk. She took one of the plates he carried and sat next to him in the extra chair, placing the plate daintily in her lap as if eating with these three men in the same room was a routine event.

A thick silence slid over the group. "So, what did I interrupt?" Hermione finally asked, not beating around the bush. Theo swallowed, but Draco's reaction confused her. He narrowed his eyes at Harry. The look was not hostile, but more calculating. She felt her stomach tighten as she anticipated what he might be about to do or say.

"Potter," he said, as if he hadn't heard her speak at all. He pulled himself up straighter in the bed as if to make himself more imposing. Harry wasn't susceptible to such intimidation and, besides, it wouldn't have worked anyway. All Draco could muster was the air of aristocracy that his mother still held even within the confines of the Azkaban infirmary. It was not nearly as intimidating as either of them hoped.

"You aren't seriously going to allow her to participate in this reckless blood sacrifice, are you?" Draco drawled, an edge to his voice that Hermione hadn't heard since the early days of his stay in her parents' old house.

Harry was caught off guard with a piece of toast halfway into his mouth. He looked between Malfoy and Hermione, his brow furrowing as he bit the toast and chewed slowly.

"She hasn't told you?" Draco replied, surprised. Suddenly his demeanour changed. A predatory smile played at the edge of his lips as he looked at Hermione with victory for a moment before turning back to Harry.

Hermione's fingers twitched with anxiety. This had been a mistake. She had no idea Draco would force her hand - now. "This isn't the time, Draco," she warned. She wanted to be able to make her case to Harry and Ron before explaining to them how this was the only choice. She wanted to have a plan laid out for them so that they knew it would be safe and they needn't worry. Draco blew that to hell and back. But that was his plan, of course.

"Why isn't it the time?" Draco challenged.

"Draco, let her tell him in her own way," Theo admonished, his black eyes pleading with his best friend. He looked caught between two forces and as if he desperately didn't want to have to choose a side.

"Hermione, what is he talking about?" Harry asked, putting his plate down, clearly finished with his breakfast.

She sighed and glared at Draco who still looked triumphant. He thought he'd won.

Fool.

"Harry, the reason I left Hogwarts so quickly is that I spoke to Professor Snape's portrait. He knows how to remove the Mark and the Dark Magic curse keeping the Death Eaters linked to Voldemort." Theo and Draco both flinched at the use of their old Master's name, but said nothing.

Harry didn't speak either, but she could see his jaw tighten. He'd already suspected what she was about to say, she knew. In fact, Hermione was sure Harry had suspected this eventual outcome the moment Ron mentioned other kinds of blood oaths. "The voluntary bloodletting of a Muggleborn along with a counterspell can remove it."

"How much blood, Hermione?" Harry asked, his voice low and serious. His green eyes were as intense as she remembered from their days in the tent hunting down horcruxes.

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "Padma and I will work together to make sure it's not more than I can willingly give," she assured him.

Draco scoffed. "This is foolish, even for a Gryffindor," he said. "She hasn't a clue how much blood will be needed, but knowing The Dark Lord it will be every last drop."

Hemrione's eyes darted over to Draco in irritation. "And The Dark Lord was also so painfully biased, he'd never consider Muggle medical interventions, would he?" she shot back, her tone indicating she was tired of being talked to and about like she was some foolish girl running into danger with no plan.

"I won't consent to it," Draco said stubbornly. "You aren't going to die to try and save me just for me to die some other equally miserable way."

"Wait," Harry interrupted, his brain taking in all the information and processing it. "Hermione, you can't seriously be considering this. Malfoy is right. It could, and probably will kill you!"

"I have to," Hermione said, her tone nearly pleading. She needed Harry's support. She'd known since the moment she'd made her decision that he'd fight her on it - that he wouldn't support it at first. But if she was going to do this, she didn't want to go in against Harry too - especially not when she was certain that the Ministry would have her job once they knew exactly how far she'd gone to lift the curse.

"It is the only way. They are going to die if I don't do this!" she felt frustrated tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.

"Hey, Hermione," Theo started, gently, holding his hands up in a placating way. "No one is attacking, here. We just don't want you to put yourself at risk. Maybe there's another way." Hermione's features softened as she looked at Theo. He was ever the optimist even in the darkest times. His spirit inspired her in ways he probably would never know.

"There isn't," Hermione sniffed. "I won't do it if I don't have a solid plan with Padma," she promised.

Harry sat there looking between the three of them for several minutes before speaking. "Okay," he said. "I know better than to talk Hermione Granger out of something she has set her mind to. You'll do it with or without my support. But there are conditions I will require if you wish to do this without me getting The Order involved." He knew that The Order would have a much better shot of intervening than The Ministry if it came to it.

"Conditions?" Hermione asked, sceptically. She felt relief flood her, but she was also annoyed that Harry felt as though he had the authority to set conditions at all. On the other hand, she knew that getting him to agree not to interfere was a large victory she didn't want to squander.

"First," Harry said, poking out his thumb as he began to enumerate, "you will do this at Hogwarts under the care of Padma and Madam Pomfrey, with the portraits of both Dumbledore and Snape present for guidance."

Fair point.

"Second," he continued, lifting his index finger, "You try this with one of them and if it gets too dangerous I'll stop the rite myself. The end. No questions asked."

Hermione nodded. It was acceptable to her. She already knew she'd only be able to do one at a time anyway.

"Third, Ron and I are there - in the room."

"That is acceptable," Hermione agreed. "I have two conditions of my own. First, you don't tell anyone in the DMLE what I'm doing." He nodded. "Secondly, neither you nor Ron can interfere with the rite. That decision will be in the hands of Padma alone."

Harry pursed his lips but nodded. "Merlin, I feel like I'm back in school sneaking around again."

"Excuse me," Draco cut in, seething. "I haven't agreed to this."

"I'll start with Theo," Hermione said. "Once you see how safe it is, you won't have to worry."

Theo's eyes widened. "I don't know. It's not as if I want you to die either," he pointed out.

"Will you two put just a scrap of faith in me?" Hermione said, growing frustrated. "Come on Harry, I'll walk you to the Floo."

With that she grabbed Harry's hand and huffed out of the room. Let the two of them have their secret conversations and talk about how reckless and stupid she was. She was going to save their cursed arses anyway.

"Padma sent over the potion ingredients," Hermione said, popping her head into the room Theo and Draco were sharing. Draco had gotten up and was doing push-ups next to his bed while Theo read in the desk chair.

Hermione tried very hard to ignore how the new muscles rippled under the sleeves of Draco's shirt. Regular exercise and nutrition were putting some weight back on him, and she'd definitely noticed.

"I figure we can brew in the kitchen," she added. "It's as good a place as any. Did you still want to help?"

Draco stopped mid-pushup, and stared at the floor for a moment, letting out a long breath before getting up and nodding. "Set up and I'll take a shower and meet you down there."

He brushed past her without another word leaving her feeling as if something had changed between them. He was being aloof, distant. He barely looked at her since she'd told them that she knew how to remove their Dark Marks.

"Hermione," Theo said, quietly as he put down his book, "are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. I don't plan to die. And I don't plan for either of you to die either."

"It doesn't feel fair," Theo replied. "What have we ever done to earn such a sacrifice? What have we ever achieved that make our lives matter even half as much as yours?"

Hermione gasped in horror as she realised what Theo truly thought of himself and his right to life and happiness. "What have you ever done to deserve a life of painful servitude to a psychotic wizard - even in death?" she countered. "Don't you understand - neither of you deserved what happened to you."

"You'll never get Draco to believe that," Theo said. "No matter what I say to him, he doesn't see how he deserves a life - and he'll never let himself accept a life if it comes at the expense of yours."

"It won't come at the expense of mine," Hermione promised.

"I hope you are right."

When Hermione went back to the kitchen, she saw that The Quibbler had been delivered just after the potions ingredients. She skimmed it and nodded to herself. Luna had quoted her almost verbatim and in context. She also included some interviews with former guards and one retired Auror who spoke about the myriad injustices that occurred in investigations and prosecutions over the last few decades.

It was a scathing indictment of the way justice was handled in the wake of the war and a call out for those who cared about justice to contact the Wizengamot and Azkaban administrators about criminal justice reform and appeals. Hermione didn't know if it would have much effect on the population. She hoped it would. But it would certainly ruffle feathers at Azkaban and in the Ministry.

Oh well.

She set the paper on one of the island benches and got to work unpackaging the potions ingredients Padma had sent over along with the cannabis she'd had stashed in her sock drawer. All she could find was her old cauldron from Fifth Year which would have to do. She could have Floo'd back to her flat in London, but she didn't really think it was necessary. It was smaller than an adult cauldron, but she was only making enough for two people. And, hopefully, they wouldn't need it much longer.

She pulled out the instructions for the potion and immediately recognized Padma's neat handwriting with Draco's narrow, spikey additions in the margins - occasionally marking out one ingredient and substituting another. It actually reminded her quite a lot of Harry's Potions book she'd so loathed in Sixth Year - the one that taught him how to give Draco the scars he still bore on his chest.

She was chopping up the base Daisy Root when she heard Draco coming down the stairs. Determined not to let him drag her back into an argument about the blood rite, she took a deep breath and decided not to bring it up. Focus on the potion.

Draco silently went to the sink, washed his hands, and dried them carefully before stepping next to her and picking up the instructions, reading through them thoroughly. "We should cut and prepare each ingredient first before we even start," he said.

Hermione nodded. "I assumed so. There is downtime for some steps, but it's safer to have it all ready to go at once." She'd always liked to prepare everything before starting a potion. No matter how many times she'd instructed Neville to do the same, he never remembered - to disastrous results most of the time.

"You should cut the Daisy Roots just a little finer," Draco said. His tone was professional and not condescending. He probably would have made an excellent teacher, Hermione thought to herself. "Here," he said, taking the knife from her and stepping closer to show her the size he wanted.

Hermione swallowed, feeling his warm body next to hers, noticing how his beautiful hands were in complete command of what he was doing. The Dark Mark was dormant for the moment, the black webbing standing out against his pale white skin, but his arms were strong - stronger than they had been when he'd arrived, and his movements so sure.

"I'll extract the billywig sting slime," he continued, moving away slightly to grab another cutting board and pulling the mortar and pestle in front of himself.

Hermione felt the silence coat the room like a thick blanket. The tension of their disagreement settled over them and it set her teeth on edge. If someone had told her she'd miss Draco Malfoy's light conversation three weeks ago, she'd have sent them to St. Mungos for a psych evaluation. But he was mad at her at the moment and she hated it.

He was stubborn, that was the problem - as stubborn as she. Just as she couldn't be moved when she'd made up her mind, it seemed Draco didn't compromise well, either.

"Can I have the wormwood, please," she asked, still focused on his hands as he expertly pulverised the billywig stings into a greenish slime in the mortar. She watched them pause and he reached up the island for the vial of collected wormwood to his right.

Hermione felt a jolt as their fingertips brushed when she took it from him. His hand stilled against hers before going back to work as she finally tore her attention from his sure, capable fingers and uncorked the vial. She quickly set about shredding the wormwood bark into miniscule slivers.

Draco had moved on to the cauldron and inspected it carefully. "You'll need to set a magical flame," he said. "Even the gas hob isn't going to be able to maintain the temperature we'll need for brewing."

Hermione nodded. She knew that. It was why she'd set down a ceramic platter under the cauldron's feet. "Would you like to light it?" she asked, feeling the need to provide a peace offering in order to rid herself of the oppressive tension that had been created by her discovery.

His grey eyes shot up to hers instantly, an uncertain but hopefully look in them. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"Not at all," she said, handing her wand over to him instantly. This was trust. This was what he needed to see from her so that he could trust her when the time came for her to do what was needed to save his life.

Draco stood for a moment, her wand in his hands once again, staring at the cauldron and taking in deep breaths as if trying to ground himself. It occurred to Hermione that this was his first potion since his incarceration. He'd had such a talent for them. She'd assumed he'd get a Mastery with Snape one day - before he'd taken the Mark and the world had turned upside down.

After a moment he nodded slightly to himself and set the fire with her wand, setting it just to the right heat before placing her wand down on the countertop between them. Hermione itched to take it back, but she didn't. She left it there as a sign that he could use it any time he felt he needed to. He was the Potioneer here. She would be his assistant.

"Can you prepare the cannabis, and I'll measure out the Horklump juice," he instructed, his tone less strained than when they started. He'd taken control and was in his element. Hermione could appreciate how seriously he took Potions and how passionate he was about them.

"Use the silver knife," he corrected when she began pulling the flower of the cannabis apart with her fingers. "It will preserve the natural oils of the plant better." She nodded and did as he instructed.

When she finished, Draco went about setting the ingredients into order meticulously measuring out the correct amounts. "I'll need to add them in perfect sequence at three minute intervals," he explained. "Do you have a timer?"

Hermione nodded and pulled the timer off the stove bringing it between the two of them. Draco hesitated a moment before picking up her wand again and breathed a barely audible incantation before setting the wand down again and adding the Horklump juice. In order, he added all the ingredients to the cauldron before adding Hermione's wand to the thick gloop and charming it to self-stir.

"Half an hour clock-wise, and fifteen minutes counter clockwise on low heat," he explained aloud. "Nothing to do but wait."

Hermione had watched him work in silence, marvelling at his concentration, confidence, and skill. It was sexy. There was no other way to describe it. His white-blonde hair fell over his eyes as he concentrated, his sure hands making her think of what else those hands could do. She gripped the edge of the island as she watched trying hard to keep focus, but her head was filled with images that were not at all appropriate for her position as his caretaker.

When he'd set the potion to self-stir he pushed back off the island and leaned up against the sink behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you how stupid you are being about this blood sacrifice," he finally said. "No Theo here to play peacemaker. No Potter to pathetically take your side."

She sighed. It was too much to hope his elation at brewing again might put him off the subject for a good long while.

Stubborn arse.

"There's nothing to say, Draco," she said, meeting his eyes which were taking on the darker shade she'd come to associate with his intensity. "I wish, after everything, you could at least trust me."

"I wish, after everything, you'd know why I don't deserve anything from you - least of all you risking your life," he countered.

"Do you purposely ignore me when I tell you that Padma and I will be working together to keep that very thing from happening?" Hermione asked, letting out a frustrated groan.

"I'm not Potter," Draco said, pushing up off the sink and stalking toward her, entering her personal space as he nearly pinned her against the island counter. His eyes were predatory, focused on hers. She wondered if he was trying to intimidate her.

"What?" she asked, bewildered and overcome with the smell of him, fresh from the shower, so close she could feel the heat of his body against her own.

"I am not stupid enough to believe there is anything that will stop you from trying this - even if you can't do it safely."

Hermione swallowed. "Draco…" she breathed his name like it was a prayer, begging him not to push her on this. How could he read her so well? How did he always know what remained unspoken?

His eyes flashed with victory as he placed his hands on either side of her against the counter, his own lithe body less than an inch from hers. Her breath was coming out in pants. How could she possibly think properly with him in her space?

"I know you better than Potter in some ways. You'll risk your life to save us because that's what you do. It's what you've always done," Draco explained. "It's maddening."

"I wouldn't do it for just anyone," Hermione whispered, the truth so close to the tip of her tongue she felt the need to bite it.

Draco tipped his head to the side, his eyes so dark they were almost black. "I'm not worth it," he breathed against her lips.

Hermione's head was fuzzy, and she wasn't thinking. All she could concentrate on was the scent of his soap, the mint toothpaste on his breath, and the feel of his burning hot skin as his arms brushed hers.

One minute she was closing her eyes to try to get control of her senses and the next both her hands came up to the sides of Draco's face as she pulled him in and pressed her lips to his. A sigh escaped her as they met.

Finally.

Draco's lips paused against hers for a moment, but before she could pull away, stammer an apology and run from the room in humiliation, his hands moved from the counter up her arms, ghosted against her neck, and wrapped around the hair at the base of her neck. Pulling her closer he took control of the kiss, licking at her pliant lips until his tongue was granted entrance when Hermione sighed happily against him.

Hermione heard herself moan, felt her skin prickle with gooseflesh as his perfect, beautiful, strong hands weaved their way into her hair and cradled her head while simultaneously pulling her closer, trying to devour her whole. There was no space between them now. She felt the outline of his chest against her breasts as he plundered her mouth.

He moved his hands from her hair and she let out a whimper of protest only to feel his hands move to the outside of her thighs as he lifted her up on top of the counter before immediately returning to the maddening dance his fingers had been doing in her hair.

At the new angle Hermione had the leverage to wrap both her arms around Draco's back, pulling him tighter to her, though she still let him dominate the kiss. She threaded her own fingers into his hair, gripping it tightly until she heard him moan against her, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight through her. She wanted to hear that sound over and over forever.

She felt like clay in his hands, willing to let him bend and shape her in any way he desired. It was a relief, feeling his strong hands hold her like that - safe. For so much of her life, Hermione had to be the one to have all the answers, be on top of everything. In this moment, with him caressing her with a gentle steadiness and surety, she felt herself longing to do whatever he bade.

He kissed the breath out of her and in turn breathed his own life into her. She felt like she was falling, clinging only to him as he surged forward, nearly laying her flat against the countertop behind her.

"Yes…" she hissed, barely conscious of speaking as his lips slid from hers and down to her neck.

But with renewed breath her eyes snapped open, and she realised that she was nearly laying down on the kitchen counter making out with Draco like a Sixth Year.

He halted immediately when he felt her tense up and moved off her instantly, his lips swollen, his hair askew, and his pupils blown wide as he stared back at her. He moved back so she could hop off the countertop and shoved his hands into his pockets almost like he was worried he'd reach out to her again if he didn't.

Hermione's breath was coming out in pants as she tried to get her bearings.

What have I done?

"It was a mistake," Draco said, his voice hoarse.

"Was it?" Hermione replied, annoyed that he'd dare label it thusly without even getting her input. She'd kissed him, after all.

"I understand if it was a mistake," he corrected. He was giving her an out. He was letting her walk away without discussing it, without putting words to it. She desperately wanted to take the out.

But she was not a child. She was not going to toy with this broken, beautiful man after everything else. If nothing else, she owed him the truth.

"It wasn't a mistake," she said. "But it was reckless. I can't cross certain lines with you, no matter how much I might want to."

His eyes flashed with an unreadable emotion before his features softened and he shrugged. "I wasn't exactly complaining."

She smiled. "I noticed."

"The thing is, you are not free here. You can't be free to decide if kissing me is something you really want to do or if I'm just the only person who has shown you kindness in five years," Hermione clarified.

"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "So, damn noble. Regardless," he continued, "I appreciate you thinking of me, but the reality is - we can't do this because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I'd never bring you down to roll in the shite with me. When I'm gone, you'll have a life - a real life. You'll marry some bloke like Wood, become Minister of Magic. I could never…"

Hermione's eyes hardened. "I'd like to think that I'd be the person to decide whether someone is worth my time or not."

Draco shook his head. "No. Because you don't seem to see a lost cause when it's right in front of you."

The timer dinged and Draco wordlessly instructed her wand to begin its fifteen-minute counter-rotation. They finished the potion in silence, and when Draco handed Hermione back her wand, she felt bereft as their fingertips parted and he quietly went back upstairs.