Amidst the chaos, I saw his loathsome face. Only flashes of it, at first, but enough to be sure.

Marcus Tatter.

I grasped Draco by the arm, and judging by the growl erupting from his chest, he had seen Marcus too. But we had no time to linger. No time to mourn Kingsley, no time to even process the calamity around us. We ran to the nearest fireplace, taking advantage of the momentary lull in departure as everybody processed the shock. Stunned faces of witches and wizards. Angry faces of witches and wizards. I turned just before the green flames sucked us away, registering the flash of a camera, and then we were gone.

"Kingsley," I tried to say, paying little attention to the unfamiliar walls of our new surroundings. "He… he…"

Draco took me in his arms, running a hand through my hair. "I know," he said gently. "I saw."

"And Marcus…"

"I know."

I clung to Draco. My normal reactions seemed to be altered from shock. Tears did not spring to my eyes, though it felt like a roll of the dice could change that. I didn't tremble. But I was strangely numb. It felt as though I could float away and leave the very earth, if not for Draco grounding me in the moment.

The drama of it all shattered like glass. I took his face in my hands and we kissed, in a way we never had before. It was full of need, desperation. It was the kiss of two people who had been broken beyond repair, and were trying only to mend again. Like sharing pieces of ourselves, to heal the other. He tasted of peppermint, now becoming familiar to me. I couldn't bring myself to ever stay away from him again. And if he still could not give himself to me fully, I could rest easy knowing my time on this earth would be limited, and I wouldn't have to endure pain like the past few weeks for too long.

I melted into him, standing in the centre of what appeared to be a huge library. He was the only thing holding me together. And with each movement — his hand at the nape of my neck, his leg against mine — tingling sensations shot through my spine. It was better than any painkiller St. Mungo's had offered.

"Excuse me?" We broke apart with a jolt. Zabini had apparated before us. "I don't mean to interrupt, but what the fuck is going on?"

The weight of it came down on me again like a ton of bricks. I could only assume Draco felt the same, as his expression soured, though he wrapped a protective arm around my waist. How could we possibly sum up the events that had occurred?

"Shacklebolt's dead."

We were sat at the most outlandish dining table I'd ever seen in my life. I couldn't help but wonder what Draco had been thinking buying this place — it was ridiculously impractical, bordering on insanity. But Zabini's words captured my attention.

"The work of death eaters. It has to be. Did you seen anyone we know?"

"Not in the cells," Draco shook his head. "And nobody in hoods."

"That doesn't mean much. Whoever did it, they wouldn't come out in the open anyway."

The men exchanged dark glances. I knew they were referring to the time before the Battle, when Voldemort ruled the ministry in secret. A shudder ran through me at the thought.

"I suppose that confirmation lies in our next minister," Draco said. "I expect people will be demanding Potter take the office."

"It couldn't be Harry." They looked at me curiously. "He's head of the Auror office," I tried to explain. "They'll want the department running as smoothly as possible. They wouldn't shut Harry up in the minister's office all day, not when they're trying to get to the bottom of this."

"You should know, then," Blaise reasoned. "It's your area of expertise, after all."

"Logically, it ought to be Podmore." I thought for a moment. "But Shacklebolt wanted reform. It'll be somebody young, I think. Progressive."

"That sounds even worse than Voldemort himself," Draco muttered.

We sat in silence for a moment, before Zabini spoke again.

"You don't think it's weird, mate? Your trial gets booked immediately, you're let off, and then somebody assassinates the Minister?"

"The whole thing's fucking weird, Zabini. Why was I arrested in the first place?"

"And why was Marcus there?" I wondered aloud. "He rarely goes into the ministry. He gets people to meet at his office. Makes him feel more important." I grimaced.

"I'll ask around. Starting with Nott." Zabini drummed his hands on the table. "Look… I think you should lay low for now. They're going to be looking for you, for testimony… perhaps let the hype die down. Relax, catch some sun."

"No." I shook my head. "We were there. We'll have to… to tell someone, I suppose."

"Tell them what?" Draco asked, rising to bid Zabini goodbye. "We can't offer any new information."

I tried not to gape. "We let all those prisoners go. We saw Marcus there. You don't think there's going to be questions?"

Blaise awkwardly left the room to disapparate. I rounded on Draco, my arms folded, eyebrows raised. I wasn't going to let this slide so easily.

"Tori-

"What do you think's going to happen? They can't send us to Azkaban for being bystanders."

"They can, and they will, if they're under the imperius curse," Draco said seriously. "If the death eaters really are taking over the ministry… You can't remember what it was like last time. You were too young, too protected."

"And what if the death eaters aren't?"

"Then, who the fuck killed Shacklebolt?"

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. I tried as hard as I could to remember, but the details were beyond blurred. Only the chaos of the crowd pressed around me, and the need to disapparate, ran through my mind. The killing curse could have come from anybody.

"Surely somebody must have seen," I said quietly. "They must have locked the place down immediately."

"We managed to get away," Draco said seriously. "They may have too."

I thought for a moment. "The minute we know the ministry's safe, we have to tell them everything."

Draco sniffed. "Fine. But if it's not-

"Don't." I held up a hand. It was too much to bear. "We'll cross that bridge at the time."

"Okay."

We sat in silence for a moment, lost in thought. I still couldn't comprehend Kingsley's death. It felt like an awful dream, like I could wake up at any moment and hear Draco's trial had not even begun. Or I had not even interviewed Podmore, those months ago, and never officially met the man sat across from me. I took in his troubled face, the stress lining his forehead and beneath his eyes. And then the hands fidgeting with his wand on the table. I frowned.

"Did you get your wand back?"

Draco at least had the grace to look sheepish. "I swiped it."

My mouth dropped open. "From who?"

"Somebody in the ministry. It was hanging out of his pocket." Draco shrugged, then his face creased in concern. "…Are you mad?"

Truthfully, I couldn't muster the energy to argue over a stolen wand. All I wanted was a hearty meal — my stomach grumbling after a day of only coffee — and a good night's rest.

Draco had stocked the cupboards, and I found a plethora of food options to choose from. I settled on a tin of chicken noodle soup, heating it on the stove and pinching a few fancy crackers to go with it. I made a bowl for him too, eager to repay the favour of his lavish dinners, but he only pushed his spoon around the bowl until I'd finished.

Through the clatter of dishes as I flicked my wand, worried thoughts ran through my head. Draco had been… for lack of a better word, almost empty since we arrived here. I longed to know how he was feeling, but had enough sense not to ask outright. He still had a pinched, sunken-in look from his time in the cells. I worried that the ordeal might have damaged him permanently.

It took me almost twenty minutes to find a bathroom, even with Draco's directions, and even then I wasn't sure I'd reached the right one. But I showered beneath warm water, comforting and soothing like nothing else. I'd brought no clothes with me, and so I tugged on a robe that was hanging on the wall. After my journey in finding the bathroom, I worried it would take me just as long to locate a suitable bedroom, but I stumbled into Draco's behind the first door I tried.

Lit candles adorned the room, providing the only source of light in the pitch black night. Draco was sat at a bleached mahogany desk, reading a large book. As I walked in, he put it away and stood to face me. It felt like electricity humming between us.

I took a small breath. "No more games."

"None."

I stepped closer, wishing I'd thought to dry my hair or apply makeup. "No more secrets."

Draco had no right to be as breathtaking as he was in that moment. He'd washed the dirt from his own hair, now returned to a silver-blonde. Flames from the candles danced in his green eyes, and his gaze did not leave my own as he watched me slowly advance.

"No more pushing me away."

I stopped then, with my arms folded across my chest. We were still at least three feet apart.

I saw the tension in his neck as he gulped, but he nodded. He moved to step closer but I held up a finger, pausing him.

"And you need to know what you're getting into." I mustered every ounce of bravery I could. "I don't have much time."

"We'll get you time."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Says who?"

"I don't want to argue with you." I reached for his hands, taking them in my own. "I don't want to waste a single moment."

"I'll never leave you again," he murmured. "Not in life or death."

I almost vibrated with longing until our lips finally met. He wrapped both arms around me, holding me as close as he could. His tongue gently found mine, a tenderness to the kiss that contrasted the way his hands slid down my waist and tugged the robe free. I gasped as he grasped my thighs, wrapping my legs around him and carrying me in that way to the bed.

"I've missed this," I whispered, as he pressed his lips to my neck.

Draco wrestled his shirt free, before loosening his belt, setting off a cascade of butterflies deep in my abdomen. I couldn't imagine ever getting used to this, to the sight of him half-illuminated and looking at me with such longing in his eyes. It was not an expression I'd seen him wear before.

He lay me back, so softly, caressing my head and kissing me just as gently as he had before. He began to work his way downwards, first to my chest, sucking and nibbling until I was purring beneath him. When I thought I might erupt from that sensation alone, he started down my abdomen, leaving a tingling trail as he reached the space between my thighs. I gasped. My hands clutched at his hair of their own accord, tugging and pressing, conveying how badly I wanted this. He obliged, creating gentle strokes with his tongue until I became a quivering mess beneath him.

Before he tipped me completely over the edge, he drew up once more, this time thrusting deep inside me. I couldn't help the moan that escaped, so loud I was practically shouting. I throbbed with each movement, his groans against my ear only enhancing the sensation. Inspired in the heat of the moment, I rolled us to the right, not breaking the contact. Now I was above him, and in control.

I was aware of the nerves I felt, but his smouldering gaze, his hand on my hip, made me feel completely competent. As I tilted up and down, slowly at first and then quickly, my confidence only grew. I loved watching his eyes darken, the bones of his hand protruding as his grip tightened on my body. And, though I'd intended the moment to be all for him, I found myself coming undone before he'd finished.

"Fuck, Tori," he groaned, pulling me to lay close beside him. "You're going to be the death of me."

I brought my hand to his head, gently stroking his hair back into place. The night was silent, with not even the hoot of an owl to penetrate this moment.

He looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment. "I…"

My heart hammered. I didn't speak as the silence drew out before us. I didn't want to trap him with words.

"I'm in love with you."

I considered what to say — I love you, too seemed so contrite — but he began talking again. The words spilled from him, as though he'd been hiding them away for a while.

"I think I've known that this whole time. And that's why I fought against it. I love you enough to want better for you. Don't worry," he added, noticing my intake of breath, "I'm being well and truly selfish from now onwards. Because… I'm not supposed to be able to feel this. Nobody with the mark is."

I tensed, suddenly remembering the mark on my own arm. He noticed.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," I said, too quickly. "Carry on."

He paused. "Are you finally coming to your senses?" he tried to joke.

I saw the pain fresh in his eyes. I couldn't bear lying to him. No more secrets. They had been my own words. And he was bound to see at some stage, regardless.

"You might not love me after all," I whispered. "There's something I have to show you."

He didn't say a word as I retrieved my wand. I was trembling, I was so anxious, and I had to close my eyes when I used lumos, for fear of the reaction I'd see.

Not knowing was almost worse, but I couldn't bear to see what he was thinking in that moment. I knew I could lose him forever.

"When did this happen?" he asked, his voice low.

"At the Quidditch match." My voice shook as I spoke. I kept my eyes firmly shut. "This is what landed me in St. Mungo's. Given my malediction, it… took a while to heal."

I could almost feel him putting the pieces together. "Astoria, look at me. Look at me!"

His face was contorted in a deadly rage. "Are you telling me those pieces of shit did this to you?"

"It's not so bad," I mumbled. "Easily hidden."

"I'll fucking kill them. I mean it. I'll kill them for this."

"No you won't. I won't let you become a killer for me."

He shook his head. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I let out a humourless laugh. "It represents everything you hate. Everything you despise. How could you still want me after this?"

His eyes scanned my own. "Is that really what you think?"

"You'll be reminded of it every time you look at me."

"You've got it so wrong, Tori."

I glanced down.

"Every time I look at you, I'm reminded that I can love you. That there's still some good left in me, even if it is hidden beneath all the dark shit." He gulped. "I was so lost before I met you. I was lost without you. The world has no meaning for me if you're not in it."

I placed my arm against his own, comparing our marks by wandlight. I checked his face carefully for any signs of disgust, or repulsion. Only an echo of his former anger came.

"We match," I tried to joke.

"His and hers," he sighed. His tone became serious once more. "I mean it. I won't let them get away with this."

"You're far more important to me than they are." I dimmed my wand and placed my head on Draco's chest, comforted by the steady beat of his heart. "I can't lose you, especially not to Azkaban."

"And why is that, Greengrass?"

I knew what he was really asking. And so I answered.

"Because I've fallen completely in love with you, Draco Malfoy."