AN: Apologies in advance! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think in a review or PM!

-..-

Hermione's knees nearly buckled. The relief she felt upon seeing Harry and Draco unharmed and in one piece was overwhelming. She made a desperate sound in the back of her throat, and Draco immediately looked up and found her.

His strides ate up the space between them in a matter of seconds. She had enough time to extinguish the light coming from her wand before she was gathered up in his arms, his face pressed against the top of her head, and reassurances being whispered into her hair. Draco's cologne filled her nose and settled the painful beating of her heart.

"I didn't know where you were." She choked on her tears and clung to his shirt. "I couldn't find you."

"I know. I'm so sorry." Draco ran a comforting hand over her back and said, "I should have told you. There were complications, and I couldn't get any word out."

Harry hung back, letting them have their moment. Realizing he was there, Hermione extracted herself from Draco and pulled Harry into a fierce hug. "Don't you ever do that to me again," she snapped. "You know what that does to me."

"I'm sorry, Mione." Harry wrapped his arms around her and gave Draco a pained look over her head. They had royally botched the entire mission. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Hermione pulled out of his arms and smacked his chest. "Well you did. You scared the hell out of me."

"After everything we've been through, you should know I can handle myself." Harry tried to say it as a joke, but his smile slipped as Hermione continued to wipe furiously at her tears.

"And you should know that, after everything we've been through, I would be scared out my mind if I can't find you." Hermione turned her glare on Draco. "Either of you."

Draco looked helplessly between Hermione and Harry. He wasn't used to someone worrying about him, other than his mother of course. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo always knew he could handle himself. But to come chasing after him, to another country no less, was a level of concern he was baffled by.

Harry set a firm hand on Hermione's shoulder and said, "Why don't we go back to the inn so we can gather our things and have an apparently very overdue conversation."

Hermione wiped away the last of her tears, took a deep steadying breath, and nodded.

The trio apparated back to Synge's Rest, Hermione riding along with Harry, and went upstairs to finish packing. Hermione hesitated at the top of the stairs, torn on which room to go to. Harry gently tugged on her hand and had her follow him into his room. She sat heavily on his weathered bed and watched him pack.

"He hasn't told you anything yet, has he?" Harry posed it as a question, but the weariness of his voice told her he already knew the answer.

"No, he hasn't." Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and tried to keep the second rush of tears at bay. "I've tried, but he—" Her voice broke.

Harry set down the shirt he had been holding and sat down on the bed beside her. He pulled her head to rest against his shoulder and ran his fingers gently through her hair. "It's not a reflection of you, you know that, right?"

Hermione nodded against his shoulder, but she didn't feel the truth in those words. It felt like Draco didn't trust her with something so incredibly important, something that he was able to talk to her best friend about instead of her. Was Harry more trustworthy?

"It's not you," Harry said more firmly. "This situation isn't a question of trust or a reflection of your relationship with each other. It involves the DMLE for a reason, Mione."

"I know, and I know it isn't about our relationship."

"But?"

Hermione sighed and tucked her face further into Harry's arm, as if she could hide from her problems in the warm flannel of her best friend's shirt. "It felt like when we were seventeen, and you went to face Voldemort, and I couldn't find you."

Harry stiffened and then turned to wrap both arms around her. "Fuck, Hermione, I hadn't even thought of that. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." She hugged him back and let the tears fall freely, the feeling of comfort overwhelming her. "It's not the same. We aren't back there anymore, and I need to remember that."

"The War haunts me too, Hermione. You aren't alone in that."

It was supposed to bring her comfort, but it made Hermione feel even more miserable. Here she was crying over her friends being gone for a day or two, meanwhile Harry had so much more on his shoulders. She felt incredibly selfish.

"Go talk to him." Harry let her out of the hug and brushed some of her hair out of her face. "Get his side of things, and tell him why this scared you so much. He won't know if you don't tell him."

"You're right. I know I need to."

Harry grinned and bumped his shoulder against hers. "I usually am."

That pulled a laugh out of her. When she finally had her crying under control and didn't feel quite as fragile, Hermione left Harry to his packing. She hesitated in the hallway, her feeling refusing to carry her into Draco's room.

There was so much she was feeling and so much she wanted to say that it felt muddled inside her. She didn't want to fight, wasn't sure they had even been dating long enough to have their first fight. They should have been in a honeymoon phase not running all over the country and hiding things from each other. Hermione wasn't the most experienced when it came to relationships, but even she knew it felt like this was much harder than it needed to be.

Scrubbing her hands over her face, Hermione sighed for the thousandth time. She was exhausted. She was emotionally drained, and she wanted answers. Steeling herself, she pushed open the door to Draco's room and stepped inside.

He was fully packed, bags sat at his feet and his head in his hands. He looked up when she shut the door behind her.

"I was letting you and Potter talk," he said quietly.

Hermione nodded but didn't answer. She looked him over, and her heart squeezed at what she found.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions from having his fingers run through it countless times. His clothes were rumpled, and the knees of his pants were soaked through with mud. He looked thin, his normally angular face even more pronounced. There were dark circles under his eyes that spoke to sleepless nights.

How had she missed such details over the past few weeks? Where had her attention been?

Draco held a hand out to her, and when she took he, he pulled her to stand between his legs. His arms rested around her hips, and he tipped his head back to look up at her.

"You scared me," she whispered. Despite feeling entirely drained, tears still gathered in her eyes. "I couldn't find you."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly and deeply sorry."

Hermione stepped out of his hold and cringed at the sadness that came over his face when she did. She couldn't think with him that close. She had too many questions, and all she could think about was pulling him into her arms and never letting go. Her fingers picked at the hem of her dress. "I don't want to push you or cross a line, but can you please tell me what's going on? I can't —" she swallowed against the tightness in her throat "— I can't be kept in the dark. Not when it affects us this much."

Draco dropped his gaze to the floor and ran his hand through his hair. "I know. I should have told you before Potter and I came out here."

"That's not the only reason," Hermione argued. "I don't only need to know so I don't panic when you go missing. I need to know because we're supposed to be a team. Our relationship already had a rocky start because of misunderstandings and miscommunications. We can't keep doing this to ourselves."

He nodded, but his eyes stayed on the floor. His back was tense, and his hands gripped his knees tightly. "I don't share things easily, Hermione. It isn't a slight against you or our relationship. I do trust you."

"Do Pansy, Blaise, and Theo know?"

His silence was answer enough. She tried not to let it bother her. It was an unfair question. After all, they had known him since they were barely out of nappies. She didn't have the right to the same level of trust as they had. It stung, but it was the truth. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek.

"It's my father." Draco's voice was rough and pained. "He's trying to make plans from inside of Azkaban."

Hermione's jaw dropped open, but she couldn't formulate any words. Her fears suddenly felt justified. The war, which should have been left long in the past, suddenly felt far too close. Ice fingertips brushed down her spine.

"He found a way of communicating with the outside world," he went on. "Potter and I were in Ireland to meet with a contact and hopefully get some answers. Things… things didn't quite go as planned. I have more questions than answers, and I have no idea how I'm going to…" He dropped his face into his hands. "I should have left it in Potter's hands - he's the head of the DMLE for a reason - but the thought of having family affairs handled by an outsider goes against everything I know."

Hermione stepped up to him and brushed her fingers through his hair. To soothe herself or Draco, she wasn't sure. They were silent for several minutes as Draco tried to compose himself and Hermione tried to absorb everything he had said. She felt disconnected, like her mind couldn't fully believe everything he was saying.

"I'm glad you came." He pulled her hand from his hair and looked up at her, a small smile on his lips. "I'm not glad you went charging across Great Britain alone, but I'm glad it was you standing in that alley." He pulled gently on her hand until she sat in his lap and he could loop his other arm around her waist. He brushed his lips against her temple and said, "I missed you."

Hermione leaned into him, let him comfort her. "I missed you, too."

"There's more to the story, and I'll explain the rest of it once we get home. I won't keep this from you again. From now on, when I know something, you'll know something."

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that the next time something like this happened, he would tell her. Owl her, even, to let her know what's going on. There was a look in his eyes, however, that spoke to his independence. He was used to doing things alone, answering to no one. It reminded her, quite horribly, of their fifth year at Hogwarts when he had carried the weight of his mission to kill Dumbledore, shouldering the burden alone and refusing help. The boy who had been so afraid was echoed in the man who sat before her. The uncertainty must have been written all over his face, because the smile on his face faded to a tense press of his lips.

"Give me another tattoo," he said suddenly. "A compass, or an arrow, or something to represent my promise to you."

"Right now?" Hermione blinked owlishly at him and then blushed when he laughed.

"Unless you've got ink in your pockets, it might have to wait." He brushed a thumb over the pink of her cheeks and said, "As soon as we get back, let's go straight to Virago."

Hermione leaned into the palm of his hand. "It'll be closed at this hour."

His smile turned cheeky. "Good thing I've got an in with the boss."

She returned his smile, pulled his hand from her face, and rose to lead him to the door. "Let's get Harry and head home. I think I've had enough of Ireland for one day."

Draco groaned behind her. "Merlin, you and me both."

The trip back to London was quiet. Hermione had refused to use the brooms, so they had used the cramped but functional fireplace at Synge's Rest to travel to the Ministry atrium. Harry wanted to immediately go to his office and start the mountain of paperwork waiting for him, and he trusted Hermione to get Draco home in one piece.

Draco and Hermione stepped outside the Ministry's apparition wards and apparated to the entrance of Diagon Alley. They walked hand-in-hand down the empty street. It was far too late for anyone to be out, and all the shops around them were closed up tight. Hermione was grateful for the peace of the night around them. It settled some of the tumultuous emotions roiling inside her.

She unlocked Virago and turned on just enough lights for them to see around the shop. The stood just inside the door and looked uncertainly at each other. The words they had said and the words they hadn't weighed heavily between them.

Setting her shoulders, Hermione opened the first available tattoo room and began setting up her equipment.

Draco followed in quietly behind her, sat on the tattoo chair, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

She tried not to watch him, but there was something entrancing about the way his fingers worked. Hermione distracted herself with setting up the room and making a rough sketch of a design on a nearby scrap of paper.

The design they settled on was a compass which Draco wanted to be placed over his heart.

This was their first mistake.

Draco continued his story as she worked.

This was their second mistake.

He told her everything. About his visit to his father, the creature they had found, and the unexpected contact in Ireland. She worked diligently as he spoke, but she could feel her panic slowly building with every word that passed his lips. Like a dementor slowly rising behind her, she could feel all the hope and healing she had found since the war begin to vanish.

It wasn't over. The bloody war would never be over. Everything they had done, everything they had sacrificed…

Hermione's vision blurred, and she realized there were tears clouding her vision. Her breathing was a bit ragged, and her chest felt too tight. Stepping away to throw away her gloves, Hermione tried to calm herself down. Draco was still talking and hadn't seem to notice her distress yet. Gaining control over her breathing and blinking away her tears, Hermione turned back to cast her usual spell work over the tattoo.

Draco was talking about having to return to his father and find out who he was sending messages to. He was planning another inevitable trip to investigate, but he assured her he would tell her exactly when and where he was traveling this time.

Hermione's heart lurched in her chest.

The spells began to fall into place, merging seamlessly with the ink now spanning beautifully across the left side of Draco's chest. She listened, nodded when necessary, and thought about what it would be like to know he (and possibly Harry) were traipsing across the country chasing Death Eaters once more.

It wasn't a rational choice, she would decide later. It was emotion driven and fear-fueled. She wasn't in her right mind. She was acting out of a desperation to keep her loved ones safe. All of these were things she would tell herself after she cast the last, extra piece of magic over Draco's tattoo.

Caught up in his story and the anxiety over having to see his father again, Draco was none the wiser.