Here it is boys, girls & all non-binary readers. This is the big one. The catalyst - the chapter I have been dreading since I started this little fic. I can't even begin to tell you how hard it was to write. Heavy trigger warnings apply in this chapter, so if you have any sort of sensitivities, please skip to the endnotes (at the risk of spoilers) and make sure that you are properly forewarned.

As always, the Spotify playlist has been updated with this week's songs and can be found here.

As always, all of my alphabet love is extended towards the wonderful MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28 without whom, I would be constantly flailing and triple guessing myself. I love you both.

Hermione was handed her final scorecard early the next day. She held her breath as she unrolled the parchment to reveal her grades. A quick scan revealed that she had managed to receive an 'O' in every subject. Draco had done almost as well, receiving just one mark short of a perfect score with an 'E' in Muggle Studies.

The feast held for the graduating eighth-year students was grand. Any and every dish Hermione could wish for was available at her fingertips, just waiting to be eaten. As the level of noise in the hall escalated and the main meal was cleared from the tables, Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat to address her pupils.

"Good evening, students," her strong Scottish accent warbled through the crowd. "I trust that you enjoyed this evening's fare? Yes? Good," she nodded as her students responded appropriately. "We are celebrating this evening in such style because tomorrow morning we say goodbye. We will be wishing our eighth-year students every success as they leave this castle and their Hogwarts studies behind them. This group of students has seen more ups and downs than you currently know," McGonagall paused here. She met Hermione's eyes and inclined her head ever so slightly. "Hogwarts and it's professors have never experienced a string of years quite like the past eight— war aside. Somehow—" She lingered here, a coy smile playing on her thin lips, "through all of their trials and tribulations—I am proud to announce that every single eighth-year student has successfully passed their N.E. !"

The Hall erupted in cheers. Hats were tossed in the air, fists banged on the tables and feet stamped out a raucous beat on the stone floor. The jubilation of her peers rocked Hermione to her core—it was infectious. She met the eyes of her classmates and friends on Gryffindor table before letting her eyes wander the Hall, finding her friends scattered all over it. Her heart reached out to them all as she joined in, clapping and cheering.

McGonagall lifted her hands high in the air, indicating that she was not quite finished speaking.

"I am not one for fickle words, as you well know. I do not often share my innermost feelings with my students, but on this one occasion, I feel the need to do so." Once again, Hermione felt her mentor's eyes connect with hers, and her heart lurched. "I am proud of you, my dears… So very, very proud of you." Almost as if she had to stop herself from saying more, McGonagall took her seat again, signalling for the desserts to appear.

Tears stung Hermione's eyes as she held McGonagall's gaze for several moments more.


The after-party was something else entirely. In all her years of Hogwarts, Hermione had never witnessed such blatant disregard for decorum or school rules. Every single eighth-year student seemed hell-bent on either making their last night one they would remember, or one they would forget come morning.

Hermione poured herself two fingers of Firewhisky, intending to carry it with her through the whole night. This would serve two purposes; no one would ask her if she needed a refill, and no one would ask her why she wasn't drinking—so long as they weren't paying too close attention.

"Hey, Hermione," Dean approached her.

Hermione smiled in response. She hadn't spoken to Dean since the debacle of the Valentine's Day party and wasn't sure if they were on good terms or not.

"Hi, Dean. How are you?" She asked, genuinely interested.

"Pretty good, actually. Managed to pass all of my classes by some miracle. Can't believe it's all fucking over, to be honest. I bet you did really well, though." Dean's eyes glittered knowingly.

"I'm very pleased with my results, yes," Hermione confirmed. "You know, I—"

"Ease off, Malfoy. I was just about to congratulate your witch on her final exam results. A purely platonic conversation," Dean looked up into Draco's eyes, his own flashing with anger. Draco had spotted Dean talking to Hermione from across the room and had made a beeline for them. There was no way he was letting Thomas put his hands on Hermione ever again.

"Then you won't mind backing up a step, will you, Thomas?" Draco sneered at him, coming to stand very close to Hermione.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's alright, Draco. There's nothing to be worried about between Dean and I, is there, Dean?" Hermione smiled at her friend, hoping to convey an air of casualness to put Draco at ease.

She wished she didn't notice the steel in Dean's eyes as he replied, "Of course, not." Draco didn't miss it either, and his eyes narrowed on his classmate.

To his credit, Dean didn't cower under Draco's glare or his overbearing body language. He simply continued to speak to Hermione. "So, I wanted to ask you to keep in touch, Hermione. I feel like we've gotten to know each other pretty well in the last eight years, and I feel like I'd miss you if you weren't around."

Draco's eyes flickered dangerously. Feeling him tense next to her, Hermione absently took his hand and squeezed once in reassurance.

"I'd like that, Dean. Very much. I look forward to staying friends with you," Hermione smiled confidently, ignoring the way that Draco's hand clenched around hers.

"Good," Dean said, and quickly before he lost his nerve, he leaned in and kissed Hermione on the cheek, before disappearing into a mass of people.

Hermione blushed but held tight to Draco's hand as it twitched against hers, knowing that if she let go, a hex would be heading Dean's way.

"Just calm down," she told him. "He was only being nice. Besides, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You are all this baby and I need," Hermione reminded him, resisting the urge to sweep her hand against her stomach in the way that had become a recent habit. Draco caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth for a quick kiss. He held it to his face for a moment, a hint of a smile forming.

"Alright," Draco admitted. "I am finding out that maybe I was wrong. Just because I could never be just friends with you, doesn't mean that you can't be just friends with other guys. Will you stay with me, though? For the rest of the party, I mean. That's what I need," he hesitated briefly, vulnerably, before adding, "please?"

Hermione smiled up at him, her hand still cupping his cheek. "This heart," she dropped her hand to her stomach briefly. "My heart," her hand rested above her left breast. "Beat for only you. My heart is yours. Do you hear that, Draco? It's the sound of our hope. This time, I hope you're listening. Now let's go and enjoy our last night of Hogwarts."


Several hours later, Hermione and Draco had left the party and fallen into bed. Draco lay on his back whilst Hermione curled into his side, trailing her fingers over the buttons on his shirt.

"Can you believe this is our last night at Hogwarts?" She asked him, unable to believe it herself.

Draco gave an undignified snort. "I never thought I'd see the day if I'm honest. How do you feel about it?"

"Emotional," Hermione responded honestly. "In good ways and bad. This place has been the start of so many new things—adventures, learning, friendships—"

"And near-death experiences," Draco added dryly.

"Probably a few more of those than your average teenager," Hermione admitted with an amused sigh.

"So, Granger." Draco shifted on the bed, getting comfortable. "Is there anything I can do for you to make your last night at Hogwarts memorable?"

"Oh, I can think of one or two things," she grinned salaciously as she popped the buttons on his shirt open.

"Happy to oblige, Granger. Happy to oblige," he repeated. Draco sat up quickly and changed their positions. With Hermione on her back, Draco hovered over her. His eyes raked her body as he tattooed this image of her into his brain. Her curls fanned out on the duvet beneath her, eyes clouded with lust, the last of a laugh dying on her lips as she licked them in anticipation. Deftly, Draco tugged her pretty violet blouse out of the tight white skirt she wore. He leant down and planted velvety soft kisses over the surface of her stomach, imagining that the tiny life inside could already feel his love for it. Slowly, lovingly, he moved down her body, pulling her skirt down as he went.

Draco lavished her thighs and the apex between them with his love and his desire until Hermione's toes curled into the sheets beneath her and her mouth screamed his name, her hands buried in his hair. He kissed his way back up her body; slowly, rhythmically, deliberately taking his time to tease and set her skin alight.

Still coming down from her high, Hermione was in no state to fight the sensation of fire racing through her veins. Under his touch, she gave as little resistance as a hand running through water. When his lips reached hers, she met him with all of the enthusiasm she had in her, rolling them back over and finally divesting him of the shirt that was still open on his shoulders. Draco used his ankles to make short work of his pants while Hermione removed his boxer shorts, freeing his gorgeous cock for her inspection.

Hermione ran her fingers up and down its long and hard silky length while Draco relaxed under her touch. Her thumb pressed over the head of his erection, smearing the precum as she went. Draco's eyes landed on hers, drinking her in and sating his thirst with the mere feel of her beneath him. Gently he entered her as if he were suddenly afraid to hurt her. Hermione wriggled beneath him, drawing him in to his hilt, her hips arching off of the bed to meet him all the way.

He was surrounded by her, submerged by her and drowning in all things Hermione. She overwhelmed him in all the greatest of ways. The love he felt for this witch would be the undoing of him, he realised, not for the first time, as he collapsed against her shoulder. He kissed her neck as he moved gently inside of her.

Hermione moaned into his ear, and when he looked at her, she was biting her bottom lip.

"Is this alright for you?" He whispered as if it were their first time.

Hermione's eyes flicked up to his, quickly and full of wanton desire.

"No," she whispered.

"No?" Draco reeled, never expecting to hear her say that. He started to pull away, to slip out of her, but Hermione held onto him, her fingers digging into the flesh on his back. "I—" Draco stammered. "I don't understand. What do you want?"

"You," she answered. "All of you. Don't hold back, Draco. I'm not suddenly a delicate flower. Right now, I need you to not be gentle with me."

Understanding swept through him, even as his apprehension did the same. Maybe she didn't want to be treated like a delicate flower, but in his eyes, that was what Hermione was now. His strong, capable, fucking amazing girlfriend was now carrying his child, and all signs pointed towards being gentle. However, he had learned from his mistakes and not listening to what Hermione Granger wanted was always a mistake.

His cock twitched inside of her as he contemplated their position. "Would you like me to fuck you, Granger?"

"Gods, yes," Hermione answered her voice pleading, keening for him.

Swiftly, Draco flipped her over and pushed against her shoulder blades, bowing her body in front of him. He'd never had her like this before. Never been able to see his thick dick sliding in and out of her. Never been able to admire her arse as it slapped back against his hips.

Hermione whimpered and mewled as he pushed into her from behind, his hips snapping against her pert little arse as she tightened around him. Already, he was falling apart, feeling her walls flutter against him. But no, she'd wanted to be fucked. He fisted his hand into her curls at the base of her neck, tugging her head back and causing her to make the most erotic sound he'd heard from her yet. It was primal, and she pushed back against him with renewed vigour.

"Fuck," Draco cursed as his needs took over and he pushed into her faster, teetering against the edge of the bed unsteadily. "Fuck," he repeated. He released her curls, bringing his hand back to find her clit. Hermione hissed in appreciation, grinding now against his fingers and his cock, her coil tightening.

"Yes, Draco—just like that, yes." She whimpered into the bedsheets, her hips snapping back and forth erratically. Just as Draco thought he couldn't keep it together any more, Hermione keened and her walls clenched around him. Draco came with a grunt moments before Hermione slid bonelessly onto the mattress in front of her. Draco slipped out of her, their commingled juices still dripping over his pulsing member. He gave in to his trembling knees and collapsed onto the bed next to her.

Hermione turned her head to face him, his eyes inches from hers. Hermione imagined that the dreamy quality they had taken on was mirrored in her own.

"That was fucking fantastic," she murmured against the sheets. "We should definitely do it like that more often," she said, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a shy smile.

"Consider this a promise, Granger," he winked at her, a cheeky smirk firmly in place.


As the last item of clothing folded itself into her suitcase, Hermione took a moment to look around her bedroom of the last year. She wanted to make one more trip to Gryffindor tower, too, and say a proper goodbye to not only it but also the memories inside of it. The N.E.W.T's were over, and so was the school year for all of those in the eighth, but it would still be a month before the rest of the students finished their term. Hermione wanted to take a moment to say goodbye to the place she had called her home away from home for so long, to soak in the last vestiges of her childhood here.

She met Draco in his bedroom as he finished packing up his trunk. In the common room, Hermione stopped and trailed her fingers across the back of the three-seater sofa—their sofa. The first place they had had sex and shared so many other tender moments. There, by the fire, was the spot she had stood as Draco had yelled at her; confessing his love in a burst of anger. There was an inkspot on the floor, a stain that hadn't been removed from when he had told her their relationship was over. This couch was where she had sat, curled into herself as he spilled his soul, and she discovered that her love for him eclipsed her desire to live. Here, on this couch, she had told him that he was going to be a father.

"Are you alright, Granger?" He asked, seeing the tears glisten in her eyes.

"Do you—do you think we could shrink this down and take it with us? Will it be missed, do you think?"

Draco huffed out a short laugh before he realised that she was serious. He came back to her, placed his hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down soothingly.

"I think that there are many things that you, Hermione Jean Granger, could get away with at this school, but blatant theft of property may not be one such thing."

An irrational sob escaped Hermione's throat before she could stop it. Alarmed, Draco pulled her close and held her tightly in his arms. Hermione wriggled out of his grip and wiped furiously at her eyes.

"Oh for Merlin's fucking sake," she said angrily. "These fucking hormones can go and jump off a fucking cliff," she stomped her foot as Draco attempted to hide his smile.

"Breakfast first? You can go up to Gryffindor tower once you've eaten something and had a cup of tea, alright?"

Hermione nodded, agreeing as her stomach rumbled enthusiastically at the idea of food. Still swiping at her eyes, Hermione moved to follow Draco to the door.

"Be right with you," she called as he walked ahead. Unable to help herself, she turned and took one last look at the common room. A quick twist of her wrist and the couch was small enough to slip into her book bag— which is exactly where she put it. With a last wave to Anne Boleyn, Hermione and Draco left the Head's living quarters for the last time ever.

The Great Hall was rowdy when they entered, eighth-year students excited to be going home, despite the several hangovers occurring amongst them. The sight of Draco and Hermione together no longer garnered a response from the student body, and they went their separate ways with nothing but a small kiss on the cheek from Draco to Hermione. She was still feeling deliciously raw from the way he had used her body the night before, a slight spring in her step, despite the ache. However, by the time she joined her fellow Gryffindor's at their table, her smile could definitely be categorised as wobbly. This would be the last time she sat at this table, with these people, in this place. Suddenly, tears were springing to her eyes, and she was crying into her cup of tea. Several sets of eyes flicked to her, alarmed, but Hermione was comforted to see that Parvati's eyes were also glistening with unshed emotion. In fact, as she looked around the hall, she spotted several people with wet and red-rimmed eyes, even as they laughed and joked with their friends. This really was the end of an era for them. Ginny rubbed her arm affectionately as Hermione picked a piece of buttered brown toast and plain, scrambled eggs to pile on her plate.

"Ok, 'Mione?"

"I will be," Hermione sniffed, reaching for her napkin, but finding Parvati's hand instead. The two girls clasped hands briefly before pulling away. This had been one hell of a ride; their time at Hogwarts. Grabbing up her napkin, Hermione bought it to her eyes and nose before setting it down and picking up her fork. Ginny squeezed her knee quickly in encouragement and picked up her own fork, spearing a sausage in a manner far too much like Ron. Hermione was forcefully reminded that he and Harry were missing from the table, and another sob threatened to escape. She took a fortifying gulp of her too-hot tea and forced the sob down. It would not do for the Head Girl to be a blubbering mess on her last day of school. She needed to set a good example for her peers in all that she did. That included giving them no reason to wonder whether or not there was another, different reason for her runaway emotions.

Miraculously, Hermione managed to focus on filling her stomach for the rest of breakfast, rather than her impending departure from the castle, her makeshift home for the best part of the last eight years. She even managed to laugh along with her classmates as Seamus blew his coffee cup metres in the air with a loud bang and a puff of smoke "For old time's sake," he insisted. This time, Hermione was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Before the Great Hall emptied, Hermione turned and met Draco's eyes across the hall. With a nod, he signalled that it was time. Hermione excused herself from the table and her friends and met Draco outside of the Great Hall.

"Are you ready?" He asked her.

Not trusting her voice, Hermione nodded to him. Draco took her hand and squeezed it once before moving off to the Slytherin common room, as Hermione started the long trek back to the seventh floor to say goodbye to the Fat Lady and Gryffindor Tower.

Her eyes clapped onto the worn red lounge suite, the trampled maroon and gold rug before it. Her eyes started to swim in tears as the ghosts of her past danced to life around her in a whirl. Here, where she stood, was where Neville had fallen as she'd petrified him in their first year. Over there, that was where Harry would spend time writing in Riddle's diary before they'd known what it was. Hours and countless more hours had been spent on the floor in front of the stained coffee table, her books and parchment spread across it as Harry and Ron begged for her help with homework, and how she'd refused when it came to Divination.

There, that was where they had stood cheering and clapping for Harry as he brandished a large golden egg into the air of the crowded room. Her eyes flicked back to the worn sofa, where she had insisted Harry soak his hand in the Murtlap juice after his "detention" with Umbridge.

Unbidden, the ghost of Lavender Brown found Ron after his first Quidditch match and made a move that had been too bold for Hermione at the time; reaching up around her friend's neck and bringing him down to meet her lips in a sloppy, uncoordinated and heart wrenching first kiss. As if they were real, Hermione waved her hand through the air, banishing the memory and choosing to see all of the good times she'd had in this room instead. She walked the length of the room, letting her fingers trail over the furniture much as they had in her own living quarters of the last year.

When she turned for the door, it was with a smile on her face and a lightness in her heart.

Back in the Great Hall before the breakfast hour was over and classes began, Hermione managed to wish Ginny and Luna a tearful goodbye, promising them both that she would see them soon and that this summer holiday would be the best one yet.


Draco and Hermione disembarked the Hogwarts Express with their wands drawn and their eyes casting around nervously, unsure if they needed to be on guard or not. For safety's sake, they watched each other's six as Draco summoned their luggage, and Hermione shrunk it down to fit into her beaded bag. When nothing appeared to be amiss, they grasped hands and vanished through the barrier of Platform 9 and 3/4.

On the busy streets of London, Hermione hailed a small black taxi cab with little difficulty in front of the busiest International train terminal. Draco put his snitch searching skills to work and scanned the crowd around them, wand concealed in the arm of his light-knit grey jumper. He had been so sure to expect at least his uncle at Kings Cross today, and yet, there was no sign of him or any other dark wizard. Maybe Potter's team of hidden Aurors had done something to scare him off. The moment that he and Hermione disappeared into the taxi, they were on their own; the Aurors leaving to other more important tasks or to continue their surveillance of the area.

Hermione hadn't told Harry of their meeting with Narcissa this afternoon. The secret that they wanted to share with Draco's mother was not something Hermione was prepared to let Harry in on—just yet.

Hermione sensed their driver casting them strange looks in the rearview mirror as they gave him the location of their required drop-off site. She knew that the run-down and vandalised old shop on Charing Cross Lane hardly seemed like a place a young couple would need to be. Still, she was hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions. While the location was not far, the fare would be decent due to the middle of the afternoon traffic. The silence was heavy and the heat in the car stifling. The cab driver could assume what he liked as he watched Draco staring out the window and absorbing the scenery. Hermione watched the driver's greedy eyes as they continued to sit in traffic, watching his meter grow in the silence of the cab.

Hermione was tense, and Draco's leg was twitching minutely against hers, adding to her anxiety. This meeting with Narcissa would be make or break for them, in a way. Without Narcissa, they could kiss their chances of breaking the curse goodbye. Traffic lagged, and with each passing minute, the tension in the back of the cab climbed.

Hermione was just thinking of sticking her head out of the window for some fresh air when the driver pulled over and indicated the storefront that was the Leaky Cauldron in disguise. She fumbled in her purse for too many tenners and handed them to the driver with shaking hands. Taking Draco's hand in hers, Hermione darted a look left and right and stepped out onto the busy London street.

Together, they slipped into The Leaky Cauldron, through to the courtyard and the entrance of Diagon Alley without incident. Neither of them was able to relax as they traversed the familiar cobblestones of Diagon Alley, eyes flitting from face to face, wands tightly clasped and ready for any sign of a threat.

As the icecream parlour come cafe came into view, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it to their destination—so far unscathed. Hermione eased the green door open while Draco glanced around furtively, slipping in behind her and spotting Narcissa in a booth close to the kitchens.

Draco's mother stood when they entered. Narcissa stepped to the side of the booth, smoothing her robes before clasping her hands together in an elegant gesture. Hermione made a beeline for her while Draco took his time to make sure that there was no one else in the small cafe. Narcissa sat on one side of the table while Hermione took the other. Narcissa tilted her head a fraction to the side as she contemplated Hermione. Moments later, Draco joined them, taking his place next to the best thing that ever happened to him.

"I must confess to being curious," Narcissa started. "Our last meeting did not end well, and while it broke my heart to think it, I did not think I'd see you again for some time, my Dragon." Narcissa extended an arm across the table towards Draco, palm up in invitation.

Draco hesitated for less than a second before he reached over and rested his hand in his mother's. He knew that she only wanted what was best for him, that she loved him with her whole heart. He loved her, too—but if things did not go to plan today, this might be the last time he held her hand. He would treasure it while he could.

Narcissa's face softened as the warmth of Draco's skin sunk into hers. Casually calculated, her eyes flicked over to where Hermione sat rigid against the faded leather seat. Draco rested his spare hand high on Hermione's leg, willing her to relax beside him as he kept an eye on the door.

A pot of tea appeared on the table with three teacups. Unsure of what else to do with her hands, Hermione picked up the teapot and poured them all a cup while mother and son had some sort of unspoken tête-à-tête.

"So, darling. What can I do for you?" Narcissa asked, addressing Draco.

Hermione couldn't help but be taken aback by how friendly Narcissa was being. After all, their last encounter, as she had said, did not end well. Maybe she had taken the last month and a half for some quiet reflection on her son's decisions?

"Mother," Draco cleared his throat. "Hermione and I, we, well—we have some news."

The slight pink blush drained from Narcissa's face like mercury in a thermometer, and she took a quick, sharp breath. She held it as her eyes slid fraction by fraction from Draco to Hermione.

"What news?" She asked, her tone as hard as the stone floor beneath their feet.

Hermione noticed that Narcissa's eyes had darted down to her left hand and back up again. She wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. It was hot in here, wasn't it? She pulled at the collar of her blouse, attempting to let some air pass through.

"We're going to need your help, mother."

"Is that so?" Narcissa didn't even flinch as Draco spoke again, her eyes appeared to be locked on Hermione's face.

"Yes," Draco shifted nervously. "You're going to need to talk to father about breaking those curses."

Now Narcissa did look at her son, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you're going to be a Grandmother," Draco told her. His voice coming out strong and confident, despite the silent tapping of his foot under the table.

Narcissa took a full moment before she reacted. She was at war within herself. Finally, she wiped a solitary tear from her right eye, cleared her throat, and said. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Hermione said, picking up her teacup. She sipped at it and watched Narcissa over the brim of the cup.

"There are very easy ways to determine whether or not you're telling me the truth, Miss Granger. Draco, please do not lie to me about this."

"We're not lying, mother," Draco assured her. His foot stopped tapping, and the hint of a smile played on his mouth. He reached back across the table for her hand again. Tentatively, Narcissa reached out, too.

"I—I'll arrange a meeting with your father immediately. I—a Grandmother, really?" Suddenly Narcissa was gushing. "This is very irresponsible of you both, but I find myself unable to care. I—"

The kitchen door blew off its hinges with a Confringo so powerful, that it flew through the front window of the shop. Narcissa yelped and ducked below the table. Draco threw himself over Hermione, shielding her as the dust and debris settled around them.

Narcissa pulled Hermione under the table with her as Draco stood to see not only Rodolphus but Dolohov and Rowle step through the smoking kitchen entryway.

"Expecto Patronum," Hermione tried. Nothing but a small wisp of silver light appeared. Summoning all of her happiness, she tried again. When the otter burst from her wand, she simply whispered, "Aurors office. Death Eaters, Fortescue's, Diagon Alley." With a nod, the otter swam through the air to find its recipients.

"Oh dear, nephew," Lestrange drawled. "I do think we have an extra problem now, don't we? Make no mistake, Draco, your father will have no half-blood for a grandchild. So—"

Hermione risked a peek from under the table. Draco was standing there alone, facing off against the three uncaptured death eaters. While Rowle and Dolohov were casually gripping their wands, Lestrange was cocky in his movements, juggling his wand from one hand to the other.

"—what are we going to do about this little inconvenience?" He had every confidence that he had them outmatched.

Well, Hermione had taken on worse than the likes of the three of them. Ignoring Narcissa's strong tug on her ankle, Hermione emerged from under the table.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the filthy little Mudblood who thinks she's good enough to be a Malfoy," Rodolphus spat.

Draco turned sharply to look at her, his eyes pleading with her to take cover even as she drew herself to her full height and held her wand steady.

Most surprising of all was when Narcissa appeared by her side, wand drawn and ready to face off against the men who once stood beside her, her body angled slightly in front of Hermione's. Draco copied his mother's stance, standing protectively in front of the woman he loved, who carried his child.

Rodolphus laughed out loud, while on either side of him, Dolohov and Rowle sniggered.

"So, nephew. What has the Mudblood got that keeps you so interested? Has the Golden Girl got a golden snatch?" Lestrange laughed at his own joke.

Draco started forward, his wand raised, but Narcissa stuck her hand out in front of him.

Rodolphus pouted, "Come on, sister. I'd like to hear what your son has to say. Let him throw some words around—his daddy sure would like an explanation. I bet he still can't give us a reason."

Draco growled. "Hermione's got more worth in her little finger than you've had in your entire life, uncle," he spat out the last word.

"Oh no, nephew. You're making mistake after mistake in your life—you really let your aunt and I down—not to mention your own parents. You've run your whole life into the ground. I'm here to help you pick it all up."

Narcissa drew in a sharp breath, anger sparking in her eyes for the first time that day. "You will do well not to speak for me, brother," Narcissa invoked the same tone of voice her son had used.

Hermione was aware that several people had Apparated outside with a crack just beyond the window of the parlour. Dolohov and Rowle looked at each other once before throwing some protective wards over the shop. Hermione was sure that it wouldn't be long before the Aurors outside had them down, though. Her confidence soared as her opponents' plummeted. Hermione could see the doubt flickering in Dolohov's and Rowle's eyes, even as she saw the mania in Lestrange's.

The shop front rumbled as counter curses were thrown at it. This, above all else, seemed to snap Rodolphus out of his ravings. He raised his wand towards her. Adrenalin pumped in her veins as she did the same. All six witches and wizards inside the shop were duel ready, and the spells started flying.

Draco gently pushed Hermione behind him as coloured curses and hexes weaved around them. Hermione threw up protective shields one after another while Draco and Narcissa took on the offensive side of the spell work. The lights streaking through the air lit up her eyes and her battle reflexes. She had done this before and conquered—she could do it again.

One of her Protego's shattered as Narcissa was flung through the air and through the glass of the shop front, landing on the hard stone street with a sickening crunch.

"Noooooooooooo!" Draco screamed for his mother as the team of Aurors was granted access to the establishment. Someone outside kneeled down by Narcissa, cast a protective charm over her body and Disapparated with her. Hermione hoped they were going to St Mungo's, but she didn't have the chance to think about it for too long.

Despite the overwhelming numbers against him, Hermione saw that Lestrange was just as crafty with his wand as Bellatrix had been. He had been holding back before, Hermione realised with a jolt as several Aurors fell before him. The chaos intensified as the numbers started to even out again. All three Death Eaters still stood, fighting their way through the shop and out onto the street as Aurors lay motionless on the floor and Draco and Hermione fought for ground against them.

"Stupefy," cried Hermione for what felt like the tenth time in minutes. She watched in delight as the red beam hit its target and Dolohov fell to the ground unmoving. Cracks of Apparition rent through the air as more Aurors descended on the battle. Draco felled Rowle with an ingenious piece of wordless magic. Their eyes met across the street, hope rising as reinforcements arrived. Now it was just Lestrange against them all.

Hermione grinned victoriously at Draco as she spotted Harry and Ron across the way, their wands pointed at Rodolphus, ready to take him down.

Time slowed. Rodolphus whipped his wand through the air in a movement Hermione hadn't seen before, a teal beam of magic erupting from his wand just as the ropes from Ron's wound around him and he was hit with a Stupefy from Harry.

Distantly, as if she was a bystander, Hermione saw the magic barrel towards her. She looked up at Draco as he stared in horror, their eyes connecting as his legs started pumping.

"Hermione," he yelled in warning—in alarm, in terror. He screamed his lungs out trying to get to her before the curse did, to get to his only one.

The magic hit Hermione in the stomach. Her wand clattered to the ground as she clutched at the untouched skin, the damage working its way through her insides instead. Her legs buckled beneath her, giving way on the cobblestones, she tilted sideways and fell.

Draco couldn't make it to her in time, he watched helplessly as Hermione collided with the ground, her hands wrapped protectively around her waist, failing at shielding the life within.

He reached her seconds later even as an eternity had passed between them. He cradled her head in his lap as the blood pooled between her legs and stained the street beneath her.

"No, Hermione, no. Fight, stay with me!" Draco pleaded, yelling at her as she lifted one hand from her torso to brush against his face. A sob escaped him. "Help me!" He cried out, willing anybody to come to their aid.

His whole world erupted around him as Hermione's hand slipped lower down his face. Still, she kept her eyes on his, a ghost of a smile creeping across her face. How could she see into his soul, look deep in through his eyes, as if they were open doors? They led her down into his core, where the numbness was setting in and taking hold. Without her, he had no soul—it would be sleeping somewhere cold—until she found it again and brought it back home.

"Hermione," he broke down as her eyelids fluttered. "You can't just leave me—" the words caught and choked their way out of his throat. Draco was frozen inside. Without her touch, without her voice—Hermione was the only life among the dead that was his life, and now she was slipping away, even as he cradled her against his chest, willing his body to breathe life back into her.

Her eyes lifted back onto his as she forced them open again. Harry and Ron had finally arrived, reaching for her, taking her from him.

"Don't let me die here," she whispered, blood foaming from her mouth as Ron lifted her away. With a crack, they were gone. Draco sat still on the street, surrounded and covered in blood, his arms reaching for where she had just been.

First and foremost - the TW!

Grievous bodily harm occurs to both a minor and major character in this chapter.

Theft (minor - sort of)

Song List:

My Heart - Paramore

Only One - Yellowcard

My Immortal - Evanescence