"How much time did you used to spend up here?"

"Everytime I felt myself becoming a madman."

Hermione lowered her chin, "So everyday?"

"Yep."

After being asked about the small nook on the roof beside the attic window, Draco had taken them up there to show her how beautiful the sunrise was from that view. Hermione often found herself staring up at the warm glow on his face, rather than the skyline itself. Both were on par with their captivity.

She was cocooned into a blanket with her back against his chest, and his strong arms resting on top of her frail. They fit together like the jigsaw puzzle her mother had of a botanical garden.

"What do you think is happening out there? Outside of the wards?" Draco asked, mindlessly running circles against her skin with his thumb.

"Part of me wants to believe that the war has resolved itself. That someone fought the fight for us and they're just fixing all the buildings they destroyed in the process before they tell us it's over."

"And the other part of you?"

"Knows that we're not being told everything. It's been too quiet for too long for either side to not make a move."

"I thought that your burning down of the manor was the Order making the first move?"

"My mission was to warn the Death Eaters that they hadn't won yet. I was never supposed to burn anything." She kissed him under the jaw. "That was all for you."

He pressed his arms to tighten their embrace. "I'll have to return the favour for you one day. Do you need a childhood home that needs to be set aflame? A treasured item I can rescue perhaps?"

"Not that I can think of. A dinner date would suffice, however. When the troops come knocking and tell us we're safe to come out. You and I, eating food that neither of us have prepared, nor have to clean afterwards."

The sun was almost completely revealed between the mountains now. It had that golden orangey colour.

Draco breathed in from behind, somewhere amongst her hair. "An ex-Death Eater can only dream of courting someone as good as you, Hermione."

"So dream with me. Say you don't get convicted. Tell me what you'd do if we went on a date."

Their fingers interlocked as they rested on her knees.

"Alright. Would you prefer if we lived together like we do now, or do we have our own apartments?"

She bit back a smile. "This is your dream, you tell me what you want."

"Okay," he rested his chin on the dip in her collar bone. "In this dream life, we have a pathetic little apartment in the city. It's so small that the couch is half used as a library to store our overflowing book collection."

"How quaint."

"I'd pick up flowers on my way home running late from work. I wouldn't use my key, I'd knock on the front door. You would open it, wearing a dress that was bought purely for the purpose of luring me into taking it off. I'd apologise for being late, but make it up to you with the flowers and a snog against the wall that'd smear your lipstick."

Hermione closed her eyes and pictured everything he was saying. It was so close in reach, and yet so far away.

"We have a favourite restaurant, however I've saved up for weeks to take you to the most expensive place that everyone has been talking about."

She noted that he isn't living off his inheritance in this dream. He's continued giving it to the Order.

"We walk there, hand in hand, debriefing on each of our days. I tell you that you need to stop taking on your colleague's tasks, and you tell me to finally ask my boss for that raise."

"Oh so you're humble in this dream," she jokes. "Are you also friends with my friends, too?"

"Absolutely not. Potter and I have one topic of discussion everytime you force us to be in the same room."

"Quidditch?"

"How much we despise you for trying to trick us into being civil."

She smacked his bicep, "Rude."

He laughs it off. "Anyway, when we arrive at dinner, there is a line and we have to wait twenty minutes for our table to be ready. The air is chilly so we both have to huddle into my suit jacket."

"You wouldn't offer it to me?"

"No, I want to hold you and keep you warm myself."

"Ah, charming. I should have expected that from a trained gentleman."

Goosebumps formed across the back of his forearms. He didn't rub them away. Hermione wasn't sure whether she hit a sore spot or not.

"What type of food is served at this restaurant?" She asked as a cover up.

He bit her shoulder. "French." Then kissed the same spot. "The waitress will give us the table by the window as per my request. I know you enjoy people watching."

"How do you know that?"

"Because while you're watching everyone else living their lives in the house, I'm watching you."

Hermione thought about all the other things that Draco did without her knowing. She swore she used to pay more attention back in school.

Draco continued with the dream. "We order more food than we can eat, and drink more champagne than we should. While we started the night sitting across from each other, by the end we will be sitting side by side. Hands under the table, doing dirty deeds."

"See, that might be an issue."

"And why is that?"

"We are both well aware of how little I can keep my voice down when your hands are on me, Draco. Doing that in public? A disaster waiting to happen."

He groaned, but not out of annoyance, out of frustration. She could feel it against her back, exactly how frustrated he was.

To add fuel to the fire, she whispered, "But I'm sure you can teach me to be quiet."

"We'll practice." He shifted in his trousers. "After dinner I have the intention of taking you to dessert, however—what was happening under the table at dinner was too good of a preview to not want to see the whole show. We stumble back to the apartment, buzzing on champagne, and I finally get to rip that dress off you.

"We're left breathless in the living room, and again in the shower. We talk in bed for hours, and when the sun peeks through the window, looking exactly like how it does now, I'll take you for a third time. Slowly. Proving how much you truly consume me."

In a twisted way, Hermione was starting to wonder whether you consume me was his way of saying something forbidden. Something that would ruin them before they'd truly begun.

She turned under the blanket to kneel in front of him. The platform they were sitting on could hold at least ten people, so she didn't fear falling. He held her by the waist, just in case, anyway.

"There is one thing missing from this dream of ours," she said.

He swallowed, piercing her with those silver eyes that were too dangerous to look directly into.

"Were we in the muggle world? Or were we in the wizarding?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters when I know that you miss your magic more than you say you do. Draco, whatever it is that is blocking it, we can figure it out. I know we can."

"Hermione-"

"No listen," she cupped his face in her hands. Switching between which eye to look at, neither being any easier than the other. "I don't want that dream to be just a dream for us. I want to go out for dinner, living out that night at least three times a bloody week if I can. You don't belong in the muggle world, and now, neither do I. We deserve to be together in the wizarding society. You deserve to be there."

Draco had this facial expression that was a cross between pity and jealousy. He felt sorry that she was so optimistic about his future, and yet envious that he couldn't be that certain in his own goodness.

Hermione's arms ached to pull his face into hers and kiss him until he was in fact certain. She twitched and there was no way that he didn't notice.

"Promise me something," she begged. "Promise me that when the time comes, you won't give in to what everyone else will want for you. That you won't turn against yourself for the sake of taking the easy road and send yourself to Azkaban. Promise me that."

He closed his eyes and lent into the palm of her hands. With the beams of sun spreading across his face, Hermione couldn't deny that he was no doubt the most beautiful person she'd ever come to know.

And that was terrifying.

"What if fighting brings you down with me?" He asked, the softest that she'd ever heard him speak before.

"Draco, if you believe that I cannot fend for myself, then you don't know me at all."

His eyes opened again in a way that reflected defeat. "Okay," he said. That was it. That was his promise.

He could have said it for the sake of getting her to shut up. It wouldn't surprise her if he'd lied and went back to his slimy ways of going against his word. But for now, Hermione chose to believe him.

As a substitute to what she really wanted to do, she kissed him on the cheek. Then on the other cheek. Then all over his face. Everywhere except his lips.

Draco fell back onto the platform with a slither of a smirk, not trying at all to deny her affection. He pulled her up so she straddled his hips and squeezed her bum. He'd probably be able to tell she wasn't wearing any knickers.

His fingers curled around the hemming of her pyjama shirt, and she sat up straight for him to take it off. The sun warmed up her bare back, and her nipples pebbled at the cold wind brushing against them.

She knew Draco couldn't see any of her features, and the sun was only giving him an outline of her silhouette. What he said next would turn into a memory she'd cherish for the rest of her life.

"You look like an angel."

Hermione smiled. "How do you know what an angel looks like?"

"I read about them in a muggle book. This is how I imagined they would appear."

"Sitting on your lap, topless?"

This bit…

"Heavenly."

Draco sat up, far enough to hunch over and take one of her nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirled in an anti-clockwise direction and Hermione sobbed his name.

He released her, "You're as close to heaven as I will ever get, Hermione Granger." Then moved onto the other side.

Hermione never loved her full name until this moment.

She raked her fingers through his hair and arched for him. His large hands widened along her back, drawing her in as close as she could get. He wanted to devour her, and she wanted to be devoured by him.

"Tell me you need me," she gasped. "Tell me."

Draco snaked up from her chest to her jaw, "I need you, baby." He kissed her under the ear, "I need you now. I need you always. I'll need you forever."

She slid down his thighs and lowered the elastic on his pants. "Good." She released his cock, stroking as tight as he prefers. "Now show me."

Hermione pushed him to lay back down. She stood, carefully, and removed her shorts. Draco rubbed her ankles and held her in place while she came to kneel above him again.

"You're so beautiful," he said. "You've always been beautiful."

She loved when he spoke to her like that. Like he has been wanting her since they first met, like there wasn't anything that came between them for years, and there wasn't hate found anywhere between them. As if he was righting their wrongs.

"You're everything I want," she said, bracing herself for him. "I think I've always wanted you."

Draco hissed when she lowered down onto him. The veins in his neck stuck out and he bit down on his lower lip so hard she might've thought he was trying not to say something.

Despite her being on top, he fucked her. He fucked her so hard that they weren't able to hold on any longer than eight minutes. Hermione counted. It was the only thing stopping her from falling apart in under three.

When they came downstairs, Draco's mouth didn't leave her neck until they reached the kitchen. Even then, when Harry was frying some eggs, he still kissed her behind his back.

Harry was as oblivious as anything. Typical. That or he chose to ignore them.

"Did you need a hand with anything, Harry?" Hermione asked, playfully shoving Draco off her.

"Yeah, can you pass me my Skele-Gro? It's on the fridge door."

"Course."

She opened the fridge and pressed the button for the flask to open, and happened to get a whiff of the potion. It was sweeter than she remembered it to be.

Draco had left the kitchen by now, most likely to find Teddy, and Harry was distracted by his eggs. Seeing as no one was looking, Hermione took the tiniest sip of the Skele-Gro. She recognised the majority of the ingredients swishing against her tongue, but there were faint elements of unfamiliar flavours.

Whatever it was that Harry was instructed to drink, it wasn't Skele-Gro.

Handing it over to him, she jumped to the conclusion that Andromeda was dosing him with something easier to take daily. Or something stronger for paraplegics, perhaps.

"Thanks," Harry said, not breaking his concentration off the pan. "Did you want some of these before the twins hog them all?"

"Oh, no, I'm alright. Thank you."

"You alright? You sound tired. Are you coming down with something?"

Hermione held onto the bench as a wave of exhaustion hit her body. "Woah," she said, as she nearly folded in.

Harry managed to grab her arm in time. "Yeah, you're definitely not good. Maybe you should go back to bed?"

OK. That was definitely not Skele-Gro. Hermione wanted to ask Harry about what Andromeda had told him was in that flask, but her body was failing on her.

She moved from the bench to the back of a chair, "Yeah, I might just do that."

"D'ya need help? I can get Malfoy or Cho to help you upstairs."

"No, no. I'll be fine. I might just rest my head in the living room."

"Sure?"

"I'm sure. I didn't catch much sleep, so it might be that."

Or, it might be the fact that Harry has been given the wrong potion for the past two months.

Hermione held onto the walls as she made her way out of the kitchen, down the hall and into the living room. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone in there. She flopped on her back onto the longest couch.

She prodded at her legs, and pinched the skin. The feeling was faint, but it was still there. If anything, it felt as if she had pins and needles, or static when a TV loses its channel.

This was the result of a single sip of that potion. Harry was taking at least two shots of it a day.

Her head was racing with reasons as to why McGonagall would have given that Andromeda. Or worse, why Andromeda might have requested it. They were both keeping things from everyone in the house.

Ginny had said that Slughorn was sneaking out at night. Hermione questioned whether he was sabotaging that safehouse too.

Nothing was adding up anymore and she had to come up with answers. She had to figure out what was going on without causing suspicion. She needed to tell Harry.

For now, her eyes were getting heavy. That lack of sleep was catching up on her once and for all.

She let herself have a ten minute nap. Ten minutes of rest and then she'd find some answers.

Hermione was unconscious and snoring ever so slightly within thirty seconds.

It had been a while since she had dreamt about her father hitting her mother, but this morning, those nightmares came back in full force.

The summer before fifth year seemed to be the most hopeful for the Granger family. Her parents had seemed more in love then than they ever before. Dancing to the radio at breakfast, gardening on the weekends, planning romantic holidays for the winter time. There wasn't an argument in sight.

And then, one evening, her father snapped.

Hermione's dreams weren't recollecting the specifics very well, but she remembered the purple shade of her mother's dress, how it flowed when she fell onto the bed. The same shade came to her cheek the next day. She remembered how her father never yelled that night, rather he chose to use his fists to express his anger.

The door banged against the wall when Hermione ran in screaming at him to stop. It tore the wallpaper.

She'd decided to go stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the holidays at Grimmauld Place the next day. Her father didn't try to make her stay. Her mother apologised for his behaviour in the car and said that sometimes men hit women because they don't know how to use their words.

That he loved her passionately, and the thousands of good times made up for all the bad.

Hermione had tried to protest, saying that Mr Weasley never hit Mrs Weasley, but her mother simply replied with, "Come now, Hermione. You're fifteen. That's enough." Which loosely translated to, "You're not old enough to understand. We're done talking about this."

That car ride was playing on a loop in her dream before a familiar voice woke her up.

"Dadda, Nini! Dadda, Nini, Nini!"

"Gentle hands, kid. Gentle. That's it. Good boy."

Small hands were stroking her hair. Hermione peeked one eye open to see Teddy's reddened cheeks smiling, and a mouth with drool bubbling off the sides from raspberries. He was lying down next to her on the couch with Draco holding him from falling off the edge.

"Hello sweet boy," she croaked. "Are you waking me up?"

Teddy stuck his tongue out as he smiled, "Nini."

Draco pulled Teddy down a bit so he could rest the side of his face on the couch, while sitting on the ground. The three of them half cuddled. He neatened the stray hairs that were stroked astray.

"You've slept past lunch," he said. "Potter said you weren't feeling very well."

"I was just tired. You wore me out there on the roof. All that-"

"Ssshh," he cupped his hands over Teddy's ears. "Not in front of the baby, Granger."

She laughed. "I meant to say, you wore me out with all that talk."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure you were." Teddy was too weak to pull Draco's hands away from his face, and whimpered until he did. "Do you feel rested?"

The tingle in her legs had gone, and she secretly pinched herself to see if the potion had faded away. It had.

"Much better. Where is Harry by the way?"

"Out in the back somewhere. Probably with the sheep. Only ones that he hasn't pissed off with his random tempers these days."

"He's not as bad as he used to be."

"He's still a colossal prick."

Hermione grabbed Teddy and sat up. She held him against her chest, kissing his cheek. "I think it might be your nap time? Hey? Did you want Hermione or Draco to take you to bed?"

Teddy yawned, but then dug his head into her collarbone against his own sleepiness. "Daddo," he grumbled.

"Alright. Draco can take you to bed. But one day, sweet boy, you will choose me. One day."

Draco took the baby from her hands and Teddy immediately latched his arms around his neck. He helped Hermione up from the couch and gave her a smack on the bum before heading upstairs.

Hermione raced outside. She found Harry over by the stables, feeding a horse a bucket of carrots.

"Harry!" She practically hissed. "Harry! I need to talk to you."

"What? What is it?" He placed the bucket down and met her halfway with his crutches leading the way. "What's going on?"

She led him to sit on a haybale, "Harry, this morning when you asked me to give you your Skele-Gro, I could smell that something was wrong with it. It was too sweet."

"I noticed that too but I assumed different ingredients were used for people with my condition."

"So did I, but then I tasted it. Only a small amount, and Harry my legs, they went numb. That's why I fell over onto the bench. The potion was paralysing me."

Harry's face showed how confused he was. He sort of frowned and blinked trying to process what she'd said.

"Wait. What are you trying to say here? Are you telling me that the Skele-Gro has been paralysing me this whole time? I didn't start taking it until New Years, Hermione."

"I know that, I know." She tried to calm herself. "Harry, I think that McGonagall has been hiding the truth about the war from us. Andromeda is a Healer, she would have known that the curse was what really struck you, not the cement. She would have known that taking it out would have given you your legs back, but didn't want to because it meant that we'd be out there, trying to find You-Know-Who again."

"So what? They willingly kept the curse in me just to keep us locked in here?"

"Possibly! I was in the room when Andromeda made the diagnosis on you at New Years. I'd known what a diagnostic spell looked like by then from all of the times she healed us from our training sessions. It was clear that there was a curse inside of you, she couldn't have denied it. But she could have lied about the curse eating at your bones, and she could have lied about the right potion to grow them back."

A moment of realisation hit Harry then. "They've been wanting to keep me from walking so that we don't feel ready to go back out there."

"Andromeda has been feeding you the perfect amount of potion to make you believe that you're still injured. Not enough to put you back into the wheelchair, but enough to give you hope and not to question her."

Harry picked up his crutches and threw them across the paddock. "Fuck!"

Hermione grabbed his hand, "Harry, we have to leave the farm. The war is happening out there. We have to help."

This was it. This was the perfect time for her to tell him that he's a Horcrux. She could say and it would finally be off her chest. He'd finally know that he'd have to sacrifice himself.

But what if she was wrong? What if he ended up sacrificing himself for nothing?

She decided not to tell him until she knew for sure. Harry was too much of a hero not to immediately Avada himself right here, right now before thinking about the consequences.

"How long do you think that it would take for the potion to get out of my system?" He asked, frantically.

"A day, maybe two."

"Right," he puffed out his chest. "Two days. Two days and then we leave."

"What about everyone else? Do we tell them where we're going?"

"No. We can't risk them telling Andromeda. Hermione if I could, I would leave you here too. I don't want you to die as well, but I'm an idiot if I don't admit how much I'll need you."

"Thank you. I think. What about Draco? I can't just go without telling him anything. He has no magic, so he couldn't come with us."

Harry scoffed. "I'm not even going to comment on that."

"Harry, don't start. He's a part of the Order. He said he wanted to fight."

"Now's not the time to argue about whether Malfoy is still a coward or not. Alright? We need to come up with a plan. First things first—do you still have that tent?"

And a plan is what they came up with.

Hermione spent the rest of the day calculating in her brain exactly what needed to happen. They'd decided to ask the twins what their letters for their mother said, and came up with no clues. They knew Ginny was staying in Gloucestershire now. If Slughorn was sneaking out at night, then that was where they'd go.

Harry still needed his crutches, but he skipped on his evening dosage.

Then his morning dosage too the next day. By the afternoon of the second day they'd met behind the stables and Harry tested out his running skills. He could jog with ease, but sprinted with a limp.

They celebrated privately.

Back at the house he would pretend to drag his legs with the crutches.

Hermione could hear a clock ticking, and their time was running short. The longer they stayed here, the longer the war would go on. Which meant innocent people such as Ron, Tonks, Lupin, Neville, and Romilda were still dying.

She'd tried her best to act normal around everyone but Draco could tell something was wrong. He'd asked a few times over the past two days if everything was okay, and Hermione brushed it off by changing the topic. She felt too guilty to take advantage of him when she knew she was leaving, so they only talked in bed.

Draco held her tighter when they slept than he usually would though.

Before dinner on the third day, Harry pulled her aside in the hallway.

"We leave tonight," he whispered. "Is the bag packed? Did you get all that extra food from the shop today?"

"Yes, but Harry, I need more time. I need to tell Draco, I can't abandon him like this. It'll destroy him."

"So leave him a letter. Explain everything and tell him that you'll come back for him once this is over."

"But what if I don't come back?"

Harry held his breath. He took her by the shoulders and pressed his forehead against hers. "You are coming back. Do you hear me? I'm not letting anyone else die. Especially you."

Hermione fought very hard not to cry. For many reasons. Mainly because she didn't know if she did come back, whether or not she'd have Harry with her.

"Please, just give me until the morning," she pleaded. "This has happened too fast. Let me have one more night with him, and I promise you we'll leave before sunrise."

"One more night," Harry agreed. "And then we need to get out of here. Before someone else dies."

"Thank you."

Later, after she'd had a shower, Hermione stood by the window in her bedroom, looking out at the front gates that she'd have to cross over in a few hours. She reminisced on all of the nights that she stood here watching Draco contemplate a life in the muggle world. How much easier it would have been if he had left.

He came up from behind and his chin rested on her hairline. "Talk to me," he said. "I can tell that you're worried about something. What is it?"

Hermione stayed silent. She'd been rehearsing the right words to say but now that the moment came, she was left speechless. The second she tells him, the second it becomes real.

"You're leaving—aren't you?"

Ok. It just became real.

She spun around with a jolt and had to strain her neck in order to look up at him. "What?"

"I'm an arsehole, Hermione, not stupid. You and Potter have been sneaking off the past two days, and you haven't been able to stop chewing your nails since. Don't deny it."

"I was-I was going to tell you-"

Draco stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fuck sakes, don't give me that! Don't pretend as if you weren't going to sneak off in the night without a fucking word."

Hermione instantly cast a silencing charm. She prayed that Andromeda was still in the bathroom and didn't hear him yell.

"Draco, I promise you that I was going to tell you!"

"When?! Huh? When are you going?!"

She had to lie. She'd never done it before but she knew that he wouldn't accept her leaving tomorrow.

"Three days," she fibbed. "But you cannot tell anyone! It's a long story but Andromeda has been drugging Harry. I took some of his potion and it paralysed my legs. He hasn't been taking any since then and he can walk, Draco! He can run!"

His expression changed from hard, to harder. "Why the fuck would my aunt be drugging Potter?! She's the one that healed him! Took the fucking curse out!"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's complicated, I understand but you have to trust me on this. McGonagall is hiding the truth about the war from all of us. Harry and I have no choice but to leave. You know that he could be a Horcrux. This doesn't end until all seven are destroyed."

She tried to reach for him but he pulled his hand away. They were shaking, badly. "Please, Draco. You knew this day would come eventually."

"Yes, but I thought we'd get a little more time! Once you're out there, Hermione, I cannot save you from all of those pricks that want you dead."

He leant over her desk with his head between his shoulders. Hermione so badly wanted to rub his back and tell him that everything would be alright. But she couldn't. She couldn't give him any more empty promises.

She crawled onto the bed and knelt on the mattress, facing him.

He threw a book across the room and yelled. The scar that ran from his forehead to his shoulder looked more aggravated than ever before. He was pacing, burning holes into the floorboards.

"Draco-"

"No!" He interrupted. "Don't say anything. I don't know how to talk to you right now."

A vivid flashback of her mother's talk in the car crossed Hermione's mind. Specifically the sentence, "Sometimes men hit women because they don't know how to use their words."

It was probably the heat of the moment that made her say it and the dumbest thing that's ever left her mouth, but Hermione was willing to do anything to make this better.

"You can hit me if you want."

Draco stopped pacing. "What?"

Her knees hurt from leaning on them. She wriggled, wondering if he'd actually do it.

"My mother told me that men need to hit the women they lo– they're with–because they won't know how to talk. I don't know if this is one of those situations, but I'd understand if you're frustrated with me."

"Hermione," he growled. "Stop."

Her heart didn't beat, four times, before he turned to face her. His strides were slow and came towards the bed with purpose.

Draco stood at the edge, and cupped her face into his palms. There was still a shake to them. He bent down to meet her line of sight, and tilted her chin up. Barely an inch of space shared between them.

The smell of him was intoxicating, a scent that made her dizzy.

As slow as time would allow, he hovered his mouth over hers. Eyelashes tickled skin everytime they blinked. She couldn't move a muscle. His touch was twice as paralysing as that potion.

Then, without any hesitation, Draco kissed her. On the lips.

Hermione stopped thinking. She closed her eyes and welcomed him in as if her mouth was his house, and she'd been waiting a lifetime for him to come home.

He kissed her kindly, pressing in deep but not forcefully. His thumb traced her jaw and her hands sought his wrists. Hermione leaned in, rising up for her knees, trying to capture every inch of his soft lips.

But Draco pulled away before she got a chance to properly taste him.

They exhaled as if they hadn't been holding their breath for a week. His hands had stopped trembling. They fell to his side as he backed up, away from the bed.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked.

He shook his head, rolling his lips in. Hermione couldn't work out whether he was trying to savour the taste, or clean it off completely. "I will never hit you ever again. No matter how angry I get, I'll never hurt you. Do you hear me?"

Every part of her body was cramping. She nodded, so small he might not have seen.

Draco sat down back at the desk with his head in his hands. Hermione rolled to pull her knees up to her chest against the headboard. She craved to touch him more.

It was an odd feeling, being snogged for the first time after having sex with someone. Even more odd, being snogged for the first time and not expecting to have sex thereafter. But Hermione could appreciate why he pulled away.

He'd kissed her just to kiss her.

Not to convince her to stay, or to seduce her into bed to stop a fight. He'd kissed her because that was all he wanted to do. All he wanted to tell her.

"Draco," Hermione said, in barely a whisper. "You are my sanctuary. I will do everything I can to come back to you."

"Did you ever think there is a reason why McGonagall is keeping us here? That she is trying to protect us?"

"She's taken away our right to choose."

"And you choose death?"

"I choose to fight. You chose to fight, too."

He turned on his seat, and took his hands away from his face. "So why haven't you asked me to come with you?"

Hermione had never seen so much hurt in eyes before. That prang of pain shot through her left arm again. Her heart yearned to heal his open wound.

"Of course I want you to come with us. One of the first things I spoke to Harry about was how I was going to tell you. But Draco, you don't have your magic back yet. You cannot fight off Death Eaters with your fists."

"I can try."

She knew he meant it. She'd seen him hit Theo, and those punches were just as lethal as a hex. The memory of it triggered a question she hadn't yet found the answer for.

"That day with Theo, when you punched him. You said something in his ear. What was it?"

"This has nothing to do-"

"I don't care. I want to know what you said to him."

Draco interlocked his fingers and rested his forearms on his thighs. He rubbed one eye with a knuckle before blowing out a puff of air. Then played with the dial on the side of his watch. Hermione waited in agony.

"I warned Theo that if he didn't learn how to hear the word no, that I'd kill him, and that—he was never allowed to try and steal what was mine ever again."

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Hermione couldn't stop repeating the word inside her head. She couldn't remember if you were supposed to breathe in or out in order to take in oxygen.

"Oh," was all she managed to say.

Standing from his seat, Draco unclipped his watch. He sat on the bed and took her wrist. The cold metal stung when he slid the watch over her hand. It hung loosely.

"I'm going to need this back someday," he said, clipping it halfway up her arm. "For now, it belongs to you."

"I cannot take this from you. It means too much."

"You mean more."

He brought the back of her hand to his mouth, pecked it and said. "You mean everything."

Hermione laid down and looked at the watch up close. It could have been the most expensive thing she had ever held before. A snake ran around the silver facing, and the numbers had green emeralds for dots next to them. By the weight alone you could guess the worth was in the thousands of galleons.

She ran her fingers over the snake carving and said, "You kissed me." In a question but also a statement.

"I did."

"Then you pulled away."

"I did."

"Do you regret it?"

He laid down beside her, on his side to tuck a ringlet behind her ear. "No," he said. "I've never regretted you."

The silver eyes had a chokehold on her patience. She snaked her arm around his back and lowered him down so that his breath brushed against her chin. He trailed love bites along her neck, up her jaw and to the dip before her bottom lip. Then stopped.

"I can't until I know you feel the same," he murmured. A hand caressing her cheek.

Hermione rose up and silently told him exactly how she felt. She kissed him quickly, then laid back down, doe eyed. "I think I feel it more."

"Impossible."

They kissed once, twice, three times before Draco's hand tightened on her cheek and his tongue begged for entrance. She opened her mouth wider, letting him in and now they were snogging as if their lives depended on it.

In fact, they might.

His knee fell in between her thighs and his body moved to lay on top. He was in charge and she was melting into the mattress. Like an ice cream on a summer's day, there was nothing to stop it. She was destined to melt at his touch.

A moan escaped Hermione's throat as she finally got to know that he tasted of everything good about toothpaste. Draco smiled. She could feel his mouth curl as he took in her top lip and lowered his weight onto her.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this," he said, then captured her mouth once more.

Hermione raked her fingers through the roots of his hair, tugging for something to hold onto while he grinded into her. "How long?" she panted.

Draco held himself up, pupils exploded. "Since you punched me."

"In third year or here on the farm?"

He smirked and didn't give an answer. He ripped his shirt off before she could blink, and then began working on hers. Hermione lifted her arms up and practically pounced on him, clawing at the muscles on his back and pressing her breasts into his chest.

Out of habit she would want to kiss his neck, but Draco dragged her back to his mouth with a grunt. "No," he muttered aggressively. "I need you to kiss me here."

He tugged down her pyjama pants without breaking them apart. "Don't rush," Hermione demanded. "I want these three days to last. I want to remember everything."

Draco pecked her lips, "You want me to make you wait for it?"

"Please."

Nothing else needed to be said. He left her at the top of the bed and travelled down to leave a wet patch along her stomach line, then blowing cool air onto the clit. Hermione arched. She fisted the pillow behind and forced herself to treasure every second of this night.

Their final night.

He licked her cunt in its full length and sucked on her clit until it popped. Her legs opened up for him and he dove in harder. The movement of his tongue was close to a shovel, digging for gold. Then switched, flicking faster and faster, making it unbearable not to cry out.

Her skin was already damp. Glistening in a premature afterglow.

Draco introduced her to the most extreme level of edging that night. He'd build her up just to tear her right back down. Then came back up to the surface, leaving her incomplete and gasping.

"Okay," Hermione huffed, "I'm done waiting. I need all of you now."

"You'll get what you're given."

When he kissed her this time, he no longer tasted of toothpaste, he tasted of her. A mixture of sex and sweetness.

Two fingers warmed her cunt up first. Her mouth dropped and he ate the cries that fell from it. Not a single word was able to be formed.

He curled and pumped, then curled and curled and pumped. Hermione was abusing the pillow behind her at this point. She'd ripped the cover and now feathers were everywhere.

Once again, she was left incomplete and gasping.

Draco must have known she was damn near limp, seeing as he took his own trousers off and threw them onto the floorboards. Hermione weakley gestured for him to come back to her and snogged him as if he was her lifesource.

Her feet were planted flat on the mattress but by the time he ran his cock up and down her entrance, she had no choice but to hook her ankles onto his back.

She was so aroused that when he pushed in he slid in effortlessly.

"Fuck you're so wet," Draco groaned. He bit down hard onto her bottom lip and began thrusting at a pace that made her feel it in her fingertips.

Her breasts bounced with the rhythm. He was simultaneously fucking her into the mattress while also making this the most intimate sex they'd ever had. Every chance he got, he kissed her with a reminder of what that action meant.

He would fuck her for a minute, then lick her cunt clean with his tongue, then fuck her all over again. Every chance she got to catch up on what was happening, Draco would switch it up.

There was no time for her to even attempt to please him. He was making this last for as long as he could.

He'd hold her leg and make love to her from the side, then he'd bring her onto her hands and knees and fuck her from behind. He'd roll her on top and suck on her nipples, then he'd sit them up and try to see how much of his tongue could fit into her mouth.

The sheets were soaking and tangled beyond repair. Feathers flew across the room and were most definitely stuck in the mess that was her hair.

When her legs were dangling off the side of the bed and he was standing, he came kissing her. His moan vibrated against her lips sending electric shocks through her veins. The sound echoed off the wall and sent Hermione over the edge herself.

Hearing him pleased by her was better than any praise she'd received from any teacher. Ever.

Draco fell on top of her while she was still coming down from the high. Her thigh muscles were trembling, and she was clamping down on his cock for dear life. She thought she might've gone blind.

Their chests were heaving against each other. He kissed her in small pecks while she tried to regain her breath and pushed her sweaty hair away from her forehead.

She tried to memorise every muscle on his body. Every bump and hard place that she'd miss severely.

"Confession?" he asked. She hummed. "You're my own personal antidote."

"From what?"

"Turning into a coward. No one else could have done that except you."

Hermione ran her thumb over his eyebrow. "That was all you. You never wanted to be a coward. I just had the pleasure of being here while you realised it."

"But you kept me here from running away. I never left those front gates at night because I wasn't done with you yet. I'm still not done with you yet."

"Will you ever be?"

He kissed her again, sweetly this time. "Not in this lifetime." Then pulled out of her and handed over her wand to clean them up.

She cast a cleaning charm and sent the feathers back into the casing to which they belong. Draco neated up the bed enough for them to sleep in, and turned down the sheets for her to climb into.

Magnetically, they latched onto one another. Legs tangled, arms wrapped, lips brushing. Hermione exhaled, still unprepared to leave him in the morning.

"What are you thinking?" He asked, tracing a line over her shoulder.

She shuffled in closer. "About how I'm not done with you yet, either. I'm holding you to that date you promised me."

"I don't know if any promises were made."

"Oh they were. You've got no choice. You have to have me forever now."

Draco smiled with one of those rare teeth revealing smiles. "You are my most desperate measure, you know that right?"

"Yes, but I don't think we are a means to an end."

"No." He kissed her for the thousandth time, "I don't think so either."

They fell asleep that night with their mouths twisted together, and the knowledge that they were both, wholeheartedly, and most definitely, doomed.