Chapter 38 - Interrogations, Betrayals, and Realizations

In all her time since starting school at Hogwarts, Hermione had had many rude and unpleasant awakenings. Waking up in the middle of the night to go hunt out the Philosopher's Stone in first year, in what she guessed would probably be a suicide mission, had been unpleasant. Then, in her second year, waking up after about two months or so of being petrified by the basilisk, every nerve, bone, and muscle in her body had protested her new and sudden movement after being still for so long. In fourth year, every night before a round of the Triwizard Tournament had been full of part-sleeplessness and part-nightmares, all in her concern and worry for Harry to survive. In fifth year, many unpleasant awakenings had taken place for practically every student when Umbridge had been in charge. Being woken up in sixth year to the announcement that Ron had been poisoned and was in serious danger was also one of the worst times she could remember, especially piled on top of the fact that she hadn't been sleeping well at the time anyway since being heartbroken over him and Lavender being together.

Although many sleepless nights and sudden awakenings out in the woods since she and the boys had left Hogwarts also made up some of her worst awakenings and memories, Hermione would have said that the absolute worst awakening she had ever gotten was when she and everyone else had stormed outside only to see their beloved Headmaster's lifeless body, and the looming Dark Mark in the sky taunting them all. Nothing could be worse than that memory for her, for them all—the memory of Dumbledore's death.

That is, until now.

For, from the three people who had been in the room when Draco's explosion went off, Hermione was the second to wake up from the shock.

The first had been Bellatrix, who was now looming over her, wand in hand and looking crazed and angry. And scared.

"Alright, you filthy little mudblood!" she spat, her knee pressing painfully into Hermione's abdomen as her wand pointed directly at Hermione's face—and Hermione had no doubts of what horrible things the witch could do with it. "It's time we had our little talk now, wouldn't you say? Hmm? Now..."

And, raising her wand for a moment, she accio'd the Sword of Gryffindor over to her side. "Where did you get this?!"

Hermione gasped out a shaky breath, too terrified and trapped to even think of lying. "W-we found it, out in the woods. We—"

"Don't lie to me!" Bellatrix shrieked, striking Hermione across the cheek. Her wand was uncharacteristically sharp, so she actually made a cut, which bled a streak down Hermione's face. Too shocked at the action, Hermione didn't know what to respond or how to act.

Not that there was a need, for in the next moment, Bellatrix had raised her wand to Hermione's left arm, right where the dark witch's own Dark Mark was located, and then uttered the worst of spells that caused torture:

"Crucio!"

Hermione shrieked and shuddered in pain, trying desperately to get Bellatrix off her, but it was no use. Moving her wand to spread the spell around, Bellatrix cut so deep with her want that it translated into a letter, the first of a word that she was intending to write: M.

"I'll ask you again, where did you get this sword from?! You know what it is and I know what it is and I already know where it's from, so where did you get it?!"

Hermione whimpered, trying hard to hold in her tears even while they prickled and burned in her eyes. "I-in a pond. I-in the forest of—aaaahhh!"

"DON'T LIE!" Bellatrix snarled, even as she carved a U and an D into Hermione's arm. "I ALREADY KNOW YOU STOLE THIS FROM MY VAULT!"

But Hermione couldn't even comprehend her words, so consumed was she by the aftershocks of the pain digging into her arm, her bones, everywhere. Her instinct was to ask—beg Bellatrix to stop it, but she already knew that doing so would only give the witch more pleasure, make her bring yet more pain. And right now, Bellatrix's eyes were glazed over by anger and fright, her sanity and any traces of empathy—assuming she had any—long gone. Truly, this was the most dangerous witch in the wizarding world, with only Voldemort himself more dangerous...

Just for the sake of causing more pain, Bellatrix was about to proceed to the next letter, when suddenly a crash sounded from the long end of the gallery, and Narcissa Malfoy rushed in. Apparently, apart from destroying most of the room they were in—even the roof was torn apart in some places—and rendering Draco, Hermione, and Bellatrix unconscious in the blast, the explosion had also thrown several pieces of furniture against the door at the far end, barricading the room and making it inaccessible. Almost since Hermione's torture had first begun, Narcissa had been trying to break through it, frantic to reach her son.

Who, Hermione now noticed in her first clear moment of relief since waking up, was still passed out, just a few paces away from where she now lay helpless beneath Bellatrix's magic and fury. Even though she was still in pain herself, Hermione found that in her mind she was far more concerned about Draco and why he hadn't woken up yet. But then, if she remembered correctly through the haze, he had been standing the closest to the windows, and therefore the blast would have affected him most. What if, unlike her and Bellatrix who had only suffered a stun, he was injured? What if he was—?

There was no time to complete that thought though, as Bellatrix's shrill voice cut through the silence. "Cissy! I told you to leave us alone!"

Narcissa, for the first time in her life, stoutly ignored her eldest sister and brushed past her to where Draco was lying immobile, looking pale and almost lifeless. The reason for his state, she soon discovered, wasn't the explosion itself, but the fact that he had been thrown across the room and his head had hit the edge of a sharp marble tabletop. The traces of blood drying in his blonde hair were a testament to that.

"Draco!" she gasped, in the voice of one who felt that their very soul was being ripped apart. It was then that Hermione realized for the first time that truly, despite any of her other shortcomings, Narcissa Malfoy loved her son. It was comforting, even if only for a moment, to think that Draco had never been entirely alone.

And that was about the only coherent thought she had before her eyes flicked back to Bellatrix, who had directed her attention back to her prey.

"Now then, mudblood, what else did you take from my vault?" she hissed, her voice seductively low, almost comforting. She was just waiting for Hermione to slip up and give the wrong answer so she could hurt her again.

Except that anything Hermione said would be a wrong answer, as the young witch found out almost as soon as she opened her mouth.

"We didn't take—aarrrgh!"

"I'll ask you again: WHAT ELSE DID YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS TAKE FROM MY VAULT?! HOW DID YOU GET IN?!"

"We didn't!" Hermione shrieked, trashing wildly. "I swear we didn't! AAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"Bella, stop that!" Narcissa snapped. "I'm trying to focus!" And indeed, waving her wand over Draco's head, she was murmuring the very familiar "Vulnera Sanentur" that Severus Snape had had to use on Draco almost a year before.

"Not until this little mudblood gives me some answers!" Bellatrix snarled, raising her wand yet again.

"Your nephew lays here dying and all you can think about is to play around!" Narcissa snapped, stepping away from Draco once she judged that she had done all that was possible for him at the moment. She turned and stared angrily at Bellatrix, as only a defensive mother can.

Bellatrix's head snapped up and she glared at Narcissa in turn. "'Play around'? Ha! You think this is a game for me, Cissy? Oh no..." She gestured to the sword with her wand. "You see that? That sword's meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. Now this missy here and her friends have got it and I need to know how. I need to know, Cissy, or the Dark Lord will have my head for it!" And, despite her obvious obsession and infatuation with Voldemort, it was clear from both her expression and her voice that she was indeed also very afraid of him.

Narcissa wasn't about to be put off even by that though. "I should hardly think whether you question her now or later would matter so much! She's got nowhere to go and no one coming to save her! My son was lying here bleeding to death and you didn't so much as look his way! You selfish bitch!"

Bellatrix's nostrils flared in anger, and for a moment it looked like she was seriously considering hurting Narcissa. But then, instead, she turned angrily upon Hermione instead, carving out the last letters until the word was complete: MUDBLOOD.

"Careful, Cissy," she snarled, getting up and leaving Hermione alone at last. "I care about our family just as much as you do, and I'll not have you talk to me that way." It was a lie that neither one of the sisters quite believed, but that made no difference to Bellatrix, who was already picking up the Sword of Gryffindor until she held it secure in her hands.

"Now...see to Draco and leave me alone with this one." She turned her sadistic gaze upon Hermione once more. "We're not through."

Hermione couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her, sure that whatever happened now, it was going to be her last time alive and sane. With no witnesses, no magic to use, and no help coming, she was truly going to—

"Mother?"

"Draco!" Narcissa forgot her ire towards Bellatrix and hurriedly knelt by Draco's side, just as he was coming awake and looking quite dazed and even a bit pained. The blood that had dried was still matted to his hair, but otherwise his wounds were healed. He was sporting an awful headache, but otherwise coherent enough to take in that his mother was with him—both Hermione and Bellatrix hadn't come into his line of sight just yet.

"Darling, are you alright?!" Narcissa exclaimed, cradling his face in her hands and quite forgetting herself.

"'Darling'? Pfft, what talk is that, Cissy?" Bellatrix scoffed, placing the hand that held her wand on her hip. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd almost gone dotty on me."

And indeed, it was so unusual for Narcissa to show any form of affection towards Draco in front of others that for a moment even he was taken aback. But then he at last spotted Hermione, tears streaming down her face and her arm bleeding from the horrible written word, and he was up on his feet in a flash, despite the nauseous feeling the sudden movement gave him.

"What happened?!" But it was too obvious, and Draco already knew—torture. Hermione had been tortured and he had been right there in the room but hadn't been able to spare her that. It was all his fault, all his—

In any case, the only thing to be done right now was to get Hermione the hell out of here! He'd come back for Harry and Weasley later, see how and if Ollivander and Luna made it out—all of it came later, after he saved Hermione. Except that...well, that was what he wanted to do, and if he had it his way, Draco would take out his wand, hex his own aunt and damn the consequences, then apparate both himself and Hermione out before Narcissa could question it or anyone else came to investigate. His mother would keep quiet and wouldn't give him away, he was certain of that.

But right now, based on the crazed look on his aunt's face and the fact that she was already "warmed up", so to speak, any movement that might be seen as hostile would end badly for all of them. Besides which, unlike Narcissa who might understand why he had changed sides and was now working against the Dark Lord, Bellatrix never would and instead would turn on him with all manner of tortures that she was probably reserving right now for Hermione. She had had no problem turning on the snatchers, Scabior, Greyback, and no doubt anyone else if she thought they would get in her way or betray the Dark Lord; that Draco was her family made no difference in the face of her loyalty.

"I gave this little mudblood nothing less than she deserved, and plenty more!" Bellatrix snarled, grinning down evilly at Hermione. "Now, take Draco out of here, Cissy. I need to—"

"Y-you shall not harm Miss Granger!" a small, scared-sounding voiced piped up.

"Hmm?" Bellatrix's eyes widened as none other than Dobby the house elf stepped up to them now, apparating beside Hermione's immobile form and bringing himself face to face with his former family for the first time in years. Draco was as confused as anyone to see the house elf there, but he wasn't complaining in the least if he could get Hermione out. While Bellatrix's attention was diverted, he slipped his own wand out at last, attracting a confused and alarmed expression from his mother.

But then, as Draco's eyes drifted over to Hermione and he focused intently on planning what he would do next, a look came into his eyes that Narcissa had never expected to see from her son—and especially not for a this particular muggleborn witch, the bane of his scholarly existence and a source of embarrassment and reprimand from him as far as Lucius was concerned. And yet, it was there, and it was strong. That was when Narcissa realized: if anything were to happen to this girl now, her son would be heartbroken, never to come back to her.

Despite her own misgivings and hesitations, Narcissa could not let that happen.

Taking her wand in hand again while Bellatrix's back was turned, it was not Draco, but Narcissa who had the courage to raise her wand and cast a strong stunning spell on her own sister, rendering her unconscious anew. Later on, Bellatrix would attest this attack to Dobby instead, though of course at the time Narcissa had no way of knowing that no suspicion would fall upon her.

Not from Bellatrix, at least. But for Lucius, who was just now coming in at last to check on his family and see what had happened, he witnessed everything.

"Narcissa!" he cried, striding into the room. "What in Merlin's name have you done?!" And, from the awed way he gaped at the unconscious form of his sister-in-law, it was clear that he was perhaps just a bit afraid of her as well, despite the fact that they had constantly been comrades and equal in all of their tasks as death eaters. But then, as Draco later reflected, his father seemed to be frightened of everything nowadays.

Sparing her husband only one brief, intense look, Narcissa quickly rounded on Draco. "Take her out of here, quickly!" she hissed. "You!" She pointed at Dobby. "Can you help him? He might not be able to now." And indeed, she wasn't willing to risk Draco getting splinched on top of his existing injuries.

Dobby stared long and hard at Draco before nodding. "Dobby will help young Master Draco," he replied.

"You?! How dare you come back into this house?!" Lucius demanded, coming back to himself enough to glare at Dobby and act in his usual, haughty manner.

"Lucius!" Narcissa strode forward, for a moment looking so furious that Lucius thought she might slap him. After all, considering that she had just hexed her own sister, then—

But instead, Narcissa merely wrapped her arms around him, stunning the dark wizard entirely for a moment before she pulled back and looked deeply into his eyes. "Do you want more blood on your hands?" she asked. "If the Dark Lord finds out what happened here, that blood may just be Draco's, or your own."

"What are you...?" But then Lucius's eyes were drawn to Draco, who even now was taking Hermione into his arms and preparing to apparate. Suddenly, he did see why he would have to keep silent about this—he saw all too well.

"Draco..." Hermione gasped. Her throat was raw and sore from all the screaming she had done, but what she had to say was important. "The sword..."

"Right." Draco reached for it, placing it in Hermione's hands before grabbing hold of his wand again. Dobby waited by patiently until they were ready to apparate. One moment they were there, watched on by Draco's parents, and then the next, finally, they were gone, leaving Lucius and Narcissa alone with the unconscious Bellatrix.

As soon as she was certain that her son was safe, wherever he may be, Narcissa knelt down next to her sister and took the wand out of her hands.

"What are you doing?" Lucius asked, now rightfully scared at the treason that they had both just committed by allowing their son to take the Granger girl away, not to mention stunning the Dark Lord's best death eater. The last thing they needed now was to steal Bellatrix's wand on top of that!

Narcissa stared down at what she held in her hand, then turned to her husband with more courage than he had ever thought her capable of. "It's best that she doesn't have this for a time. The first thing she'll do once she wakes up is summon the Dark Lord. We need to give Draco more time to get away."

"The boy is foolish and completely out of his head!" Lucius snarled. "What in Merlin's name did he—?!"

"I think you already know, Lucius," Narcissa murmured, reaching out and touching her husband's arm with what could only be called tender love, possible for her even in the darkest of times and places. "Most of them on His side do not, but you always have, haven't you?"

Whether it was his greatest weakness and shame or his greatest attribute that Narcissa was pointing out, Lucius didn't know. All he did know was that he let his wife apparate away with Bellatrix's wand, leaving him alone to deal with the aftermath, all whilst praying that the Dark Lord would not know of the events that had just transpired.

For now, at least, Lucius tried to content himself with the thought that at least they still had the boys in custody. Yes, they still had—wait, what was that? Greyback howling?

How utterly repulsive, Lucius thought, taking himself away to another part of his house, to be alone until called for. The last thing he needed was more bloodshed and bad news today...

Of all the places that Dobby had chosen to apparate them, the top of a cliff in a ranging storm near the seaside close to the border of Scotland was not what Draco had in mind. It was hardly a good place for healing Hermione, despite how otherwise safely and strategically it was located.

"You must be crazy!" he yelled and accused the house elf.

"Look!" Dobby called, pointing him in the direction of a light nearby—from a wizard's tent that had been pitched a few few away, no less. "Dobby has to go back to save Harry Potter! Dobby put all their belongings inside as Dobby found them, sir!" Then, without so much as another word, the house elf disapparated, leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

So, still weak and dizzy himself, Draco stumbled on towards the tent with Hermione in his arms, who apart from her shallow breathing and half-open eyes, might almost have passed off as dead. Thankfully though, once he got her inside her own familiar tent, onto her cot and into a better light, he saw that she was still conscious and responsive to his presence, handing him the sword first thing for safekeeping.

"Harry...Ron..." she mumbled, after which Draco shushed her.

"Dobby's gone back to get them. He can apparate in and out past the wards, so he should have them here soon," he promised her. At least, that was what she needed to hear right now and what Draco badly hoped would be true. He would have gone back himself to complete everything that he had started, but he was still far too weak to do so. Right now, Draco would have taken even some firewhiskey to fortify himself, despite promising never to touch the stuff ever since his father had become addicted.

"So glad...you're alright..." Hermione rasped, managing a small smile. Just then, a fit of shivers overtook her, as both she and Draco were soaking wet from the rain and it was mid-March, after all.

"Hang on!" Draco exclaimed, immediately setting up a heating spell around them. The tent was already enchanted to keep things at a comfortable temperature no matter what the weather was outside, but considering her weakened state, not all of Hermione's shivers might necessarily be from the cold. Still though, the last thing she needed right now would be to get sick—not with everything else that she'd just been through.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Draco found himself saying over and over again as he hastily peeled off her wet sweater and shirt. Ordinarily, he would have felt awkward doing this and seeing so much of Hermione's bare skin all at once (with only a thin undershirt between her bare chest and Draco's eyes), but right now he was far more concerned with now pale that skin was becoming, her arms full of goosebumps and with that ugly word still carved on her arm.

"Draco, it's alright. I can manage," Hermione whispered, looking away awkwardly.

"Right." Leaving Hermione to take off the rest of her clothes as best as she could by herself, Draco retreated into another area of the tent and waited until she dressed in something more warm. Meanwhile, he too should probably change and see to himself as well.

Fortunately, Weasley's clothes were too big for him, as the redhead was taller than him by at least a few inches. Harry, on the other hand, was just about his size, and so it was into some of Harry's clothes that Draco changed at last, discarding his old black suit, now burned in places and, of course, matted with some of his blood. Speaking of which...

Passing by a mirror in the makeshift-bathroom part of the tent, Draco saw that he actually looked worse than he was feeling, what with dried blood in his hair. Uttering what self-cleaning charms he knew, he soon looked presentable enough, though still as pale and sunken in as ever. It was too much to hope for that Hermione hadn't noticed.

Not that she looked much better right now, but that was hardly the point.

"Are you all done?" he asked, hesitated outside her part of the tent.

When Hermione called at him to enter, they finally came face to face properly for the first time in almost two months, they eyes studying one another anew. The flurry of emotions was almost too much to take all at once—worry, fright, relief, concern, longing, hesitation, uncertainty, caring, guilt, imploring, assurance, apology, forgiveness, and, of course, love.

At least, that was the only word Draco could give to what he knew he felt for Hermione now: love.

Until now, he'd known it was caring, a strong liking, longing, and of course dependence. She was someone whom he thought about daily, even in his worst of times, and the only thing in his life and mind that kept him from going completely over the edge despite everything he'd been put through, everything he'd done. If ever there was a definition to being the light in darkness, then that was what Hermione was to him.

But now, finally seeing her again after such a long time apart, Draco confirmed once and for all that his feelings for her had only intensified and never wavered, no matter what he had done: Merlin help him, he loved her.

Now how was he going to live with that moving forward?

As for Hermione, she felt much the same way, with her feelings intensified into a new kind of yearning and caring that was beyond what she had thought herself capable of before—beyond what she had ever felt for Ron when she thought she had loved him.

Ron. Even whilst realizing that he was still captured and being held at Malfoy Manor until Dobby got everyone out, she still felt more relieved that it was Draco who was here with her than anyone else.

"I brought some Dittany," Draco said, holding up the bottle had he had snatched on his way back after changing and cleaning himself.

Hermione gratefully accepted the bottle and poured it over the wound on her arm, wincing at the necessary sting of the healing before the scars started to fade away. Even so, because the cuts had been laced with the strong effects of the Crucio curse, it would take a while before the word faded away entirely.

"It's a good thing that I asked you for a large supply," Hermione said lightly, setting the bottle down next to where her satchel was—Dobby must have found that in the forest as well, close to their tent.

Draco sat down on the edge of her bed, wanting so much to be near her, wanting to say so much, and yet everything in him hesitated, burrowed deep in his own shell of self-loathing and pity. Now that his mind was clearing up after the ordeal that they had just been through, along with the realization of his love for Hermione came the even more crushing realization that he didn't and couldn't ever ask or deserve for her to feel the same way in return. Not after what he'd done, who he had become. Hermione didn't know, yet, but he had to tell her. Let her look at him caringly and let her reach out to touch him (like she was attempting to do now) then, after she had heard the whole truth.

Shrugging away from her as she touched his arm, Draco hastened to admit the truth before he lost his nerve. Now might be his only chance—and the last time he might ever see Hermione this way, have her look at him in this way ever again. "Don't," he ground out, unable to look her in the eyes. "You don't want to touch me. I don't deserve it."

Hermione furrowed her brow, feeling hurt despite her best efforts not to. Still though, she did not attempt to reach out to Draco again, instead holding herself aloof for him—it seemed to be what he wanted just now. "Draco, what is it? What...what's happened? Is it because of what just happened?"

"Hermione—"

"Because you know you couldn't have stopped that. None of what happened was your fault, and—"

"That was!" Draco said with a grimace. "That explosion that went off and took all of us with it, that was my fault! I set it all up!"

Hermione didn't contradict him or try to question that, but instead just went on to repeat that it was not his fault that she, Harry, and Ron had gotten captured in the first place, and it was most certainly not his fault that he hadn't been able to do anything about Bellatrix torturing her, especially not when he himself was unconscious. Thinking it over and hoping that she remembered things correctly, Hermione was just about to change the subject and ask about his mother in a bid to take his mind away from this self-blame that had become rather characteristic of him, when suddenly it was Draco who drastically changed gears instead.

"If not what just happened, then many other things are, Hermione," he said, his voice breaking just a bit on her name. "So many other things..."

Hermione didn't understand any of it, but then he went on to tell her.

Every detail insofar as he was able to, every despicable deed that he had been forced to do since the last time he had seen her—every single fact of his life that had made him the ultimate death eater as far as the school and their fellow classmates were concerned. Draco told her all of it from start to finish, not leaving anything out—not even the parts that made him doubly pathetic and depressing, because Hermione deserved to know those too before making any decisions about him. Of justifications, he had only a few, repeating over and over and over again that despite everything, he was on their side and absolutely hated himself for everything he had done. He didn't downplay it, but he also didn't lie or try to cover up any of the deeds. They were all there for her to consider and judge.

So consumed was he at finally, finally telling her everything after holding it in for so long, that Draco didn't realize until after he'd finished that he was openly crying in front of her—very much like the way he had been crying when Harry had found him alone in the bathroom last year, except far more intensified. Because now, he had a reason to care about what he did besides just himself—and that reason was staring at him now with very wide eyes indeed.

For, no matter how much she might care for him and how much she had guessed by herself what had been happening and how bad it was, hearing it and having it confirmed was a different thing entirely, even for Hermione Granger. No one could accept such news as Draco had given her easily, if they could accept it at all. And could she? Could she accept that Draco Malfoy, the young man whom Hermione had indeed come to love, was a death eater in all of his actions apart from what little help he had been able to give her in all the time since she'd met him since that first fateful day in the woods? Was what Draco had done so far, even today, enough to justify him to her—to prove that she could still trust him and even try to look at him with anything other than fear and disgust?

Was he the Draco Malfoy whom she thought she knew and who cared for her, or was he truly the ruthless death eater that everyone else knew?

And yet going though all of it in her head at speeds that only Hermione Granger could process information at, she realized that there was one thing that openly stood out among all other things from what Draco had done: that even when faced when his entire family depending on him to help them redeem themselves to Voldemort, Draco had refused to positively identify Harry to them, therefore ending the war and any hope the Wizarding World might have had for defeating Voldemort.

In choosing to save Harry, and then her, as well as bringing along the Sword of Gryffindor and even now openly crying and showing weakness that ordinarily he wouldn't, Draco only confirmed what Hermione had wanted to truly believe all along: that he was on their side, and that she could trust him completely and now openly confess that...

"Draco. I need you to look at me."

With red-rimmed eyes and as much reluctance as if he had been asked to face a boggart rather than her, Draco did finally look up at her, looking as tormented as any prisoner in Azkaban would have.

"I believe you. I know that you're on our side. And, though it's not really my place to do so since you haven't hurt me, I forgive you," she said at last.

"I have hurt you..." Draco whispered right away, looking ashamed—of himself. "All these years, I've done nothing but hurt you."

Hermione blinked, surprised. "I've already forgiven you for that, Draco, so you don't need to apologize again."

Draco hung his head, unable to keep eye contact any longer. "I do need to. Even if it's enough for you, it isn't for me."

He was truly unjustifiable to himself, it seemed. And right now, the problem for him wasn't getting Hermione's forgiveness, as he should already know by now that she meant what she said when she said it and she was sure. No, what Draco Malfoy needed right now was to try and start forgiving himself, and if those emotions weren't forthcoming, then...

"Draco, I love you."

This was enough to shock Draco out of the dark mind-space he had created for himself, bringing him back to reality and to the fact that he had heard those words. It was the first time Hermione had ever said it to him, and yet it was what he had been longing to hear from her ever since...when was it? The last time they'd met? Back at the lakehouse when they had first agreed to try and be together? Or was it when she had risked her safety and her life to save him from the Black Lake?

Regardless, every night amidst his torment, this was what Draco had always needed: the complete and real affirmation that Hermione Granger loved and believed in him, the only reason why he had to live through this war and see it through until its end. Even if he might die then, at least he'd have a good reason. And if not, then...

Well, then he had an even better reason to live, now that he knew.

For the first time in further back than he could remember, Draco finally began to feel hope and something positive, lifting him up out of his gravity of despair.

Without thinking and without directly responding to her words, Draco leaned forward at last and clasped her to him, his arms folding around her longingly and tightly, to fill the void in himself as well as between them. He needed this, needed her so desperately...

"I love you," Draco whispered in her ear, before easing up on his grip a bit and bringing his lips to her, kissing her at last. At last. So much time had passed since they had met face to face and now one kiss wasn't nearly enough to satisfy him. He wanted—needed Hermione so much more.

Hermione herself was at a loss for words at Draco's response, but equally unable to control her own emotions and longing. This was, after all, the first time she had confessed to someone in such a way, and had them respond back in kind. She had never said those same words to Ron; but then, she never felt for Ron as deeply as she did now for Draco. The fact that it was Draco Malfoy, whom only a few months ago she would have counted among some of her worst enemies, was no less incredible.

But she wouldn't change a thing between them—not a single thing.

Hastily, she brought her arms up around his neck, pulling him closer until he was hovering almost on top of her as she lay down on her bed. They were both weary both mentally and physically, so of course nothing more would happen between them just then, but Hermione needed him near. "Draco...Draco..." she breathed between kisses, but he never seemed to tire of ravishing her mouth. In fact, her responses seemed only to encourage him more, until he felt a sharp pain in his head, a takeaway from hitting it earlier. Stopping abruptly, he pulled back, but from how he brought his hand to his forehead, Hermione quickly determined that she wasn't the cause.

"Wait here a moment," she said, and then stood up to go hunt out a potion that acted as a painkiller—Merlin knew they both needed it right now. Ordinarily, she would have saved herself the trouble and accio'd it, but of course she didn't have her want.

That's right, her wand. Yet another problem to worry about, but not now. Merlin, please, not now.

Retrieving the potion, she gulped down the contents along with Draco, and soon they both felt much less pain, bringing their fatigue to the forefront. Both tired beyond measure, by mutual unspoken consent they lay down together on Hermione's caught, Draco spooning Hermione from behind so as to share warmth as well as make room on a bed that was obviously intended for one person and not too. But he wasn't about to leave her along, not after just nearly losing her. To be safe, Draco also kept his wand in his hand, his reflexes trained enough that even a sudden awakening would have him alert.

For the first time in two months though, he just might be getting a good sleep for once—a sleep without nightmares, if he was lucky. Even with nightmares though, at least there was something worthwhile waiting for him when he woke up, someone he wanted by his side every day if he could help it.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she answered through a yawn, so safe and secure in his arms even though he was, by all accounts, a dangerous wizard and the only one with a wand between them.

"Thank you. For everything, for—"

"Draco." Hermione turned over until she was facing him, and brought her hand weakly up to his cheek. "Don't thank me for loving you. I'm not doing this as a favour. I just...after everything we've been through, I know I do."

Draco leaned in to her touch, closing his eyes, his last view that of her face, the only thing he wanted to see every night before he slept from now on. It was not to be, obviously, but he could appreciate this, her, while he still had her in his arms. "Regardless of the reason, I'm grateful, Hermione. I'd be lost without you." Words that were truer than she knew, even now.

Drifting off was an easy choice, and so the two, somewhat the worse for wear but otherwise able to power through it, fell asleep.

Together again, at last.

A/N: The fluffy latter part of this chapter was kind of spur-of-the-moment for me, to be honest, because my initial idea was to have Narcissa come with Draco and Hermione and then maybe question them on their relationship, but I figured that everyone, the characters and readers both, have had enough action for now so maybe I should tone it down in ending off this chapter. And also, no cliffhanger, so huzzah for that!

Ahem, anyway, this chapter took quite a bit of writing, so I hope everyone enjoyed reading it. I'm not sure what the expectations of readers were, so I don't know whether I fulfilled or disappointed or maybe even surpassed them, but in any case, let me know what you either liked or disliked about what happened. :)

As a reward both for the characters, readers, and myself, I thought that now was finally the perfect time to start using the L-word when referring to how Draco and Hermione feel for each other, so I got that out of the way. Also, I can't keep Draco depressed and withholding himself from Hermione forever, so I also worked in the forgiveness angle there. I don't know if you would have preferred for me to draw this out a bit more rather than giving it a quick fix in this chapter along with everything else that's going on, but my reasoning is that we'll have enough problems in the future to deal with without adding Draco's uncertainty and depression in his romance with Hermione as an additional problem, so I'm fixing what I can for a bit of relief before moving on. Again, I hope this turns out to be a good decision rather than a bad one. :')

Anyway, please do comment, follow, and favourite in support of this story! Also, if there's anyone out there who's maybe just followed this story but hasn't favourited it or reviewed yet, then please do so, as I'd really love more support as this story progresses! Considering how much there still is left to be written and canon vs. fanfic elements that I have to juggle as well as making the romance believable (and then swoon-worthy once we get to the smut parts), more support is really the fuel I need in doing the best job I can do with this! Please and thank you, everyone!