Warning: Mentions of rape, slight domestic violence

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

-Take Me to Church, Hozier

Hermione flicked through the channels, the noise coming from the tele almost nonexistent as she looked for any news of, well, anything. It had become something of a routine for her, paranoia and anxiety constantly coursing through her veins. She looked for any sign of suspicious activity or extreme crime that would be too close for comfort, possibly tipping her off to the people who were, no doubt, after her. Riddle or Draco, she wasn't sure which…

She didn't know if Riddle had survived Theo's attack, too afraid to simply look it up lest she find an answer she didn't want. Besides, Hermione did her damnedest to not make it a habit of thinking of Riddle, at all. Thoughts of him of any kind only brought forth thoughts of one of their last encounters when she'd had no choice but to allow him to have his way with her as he saw fit. With a grimace, she reached up, brushing her fingers along her neck.

It had taken weeks for the marks to go away, a cruel reminder of the life that she'd unknowingly involved herself in before being forced to sneak out of. Literally. There were many nights where she woke up, screaming in a fit of terror and helplessness, the feelings of harsh hands and aggressive teeth still lingering on her skin. She still chastised herself from time to time for foolishly believing when he'd said that he'd had no intentions of using her for that. He was the head of an organized criminal organization, he couldn't be trusted…

She suddenly blinked, an almost crippling pain traveling through her at that thought.

With a huff, she cut the tele off, tossing it onto the coffee table with a tad more force than necessary before rising.

Any head of any organized criminal organization couldn't be trusted. She suddenly shook her head with a scoff at her own naiveté and hypocrisy. She knew that Draco killed people. From the very first moment that she'd found out the truth, it hadn't done a thing to diminish her growing feelings for him. Truth be told, she'd only wanted to leave for her own sake, more concerned with her own safety than anything else. That had been shot to hell, but he'd given her another out. Another opportunity to leave it all behind for good, and what had she done?

She'd stayed.

By then, she could no longer plead ignorance. By that point, she'd known truly what he was and what he did, and had still chosen to remain. Draco was a murderer, and scarily enough that had never bothered her enough to leave him before, so why was Ron any different? Because she knew him? Someone had known all of Draco's other victims. They'd had friends and family and lovers. They'd all had people who mourned them when Draco had taken their fate into his own hands.

And she'd stayed.

Hermione was disgusted with herself.

For giving herself to him for money in the first place, for staying, and for loving him.

Draco wasn't a good person, and she didn't know why it had taken Ron's death for her to truly see that. She had barely been able to look Harry and Ginny in the face all those weeks ago, the feeling only growing worse the day prior during Harry's visit. Draco had murdered her brother, Harry's best friend. He'd caused them a great deal of pain, and Hermione felt her insides churn with guilt.

"You look good, much better since the last time I saw you," Harry said, pulling her into his chest as he stepped inside.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him with a small sigh, missing all of them so much.

"No one followed you, right?" she warily asked, pulling away.

Harry shook his head.

"I just rented the car this morning, very early, and it's under a completely different name," he answered.

Hermione nodded, shoulders easing with the loss of tension. Harry frowned, and Hermione could tell that he was resisting interrogating her. The last time she'd seen them, there had been all sorts of questions, questions that she couldn't answer. They only knew the gist of it: she'd gotten into some trouble with some dangerous people, and until she figured out what to do, she couldn't go back. She'd left it at that, refusing to elaborate any further despite their protests.

"How are you doing?"

Harry sat down, exhaling.

"Good, actually. Tired these days, but that's to be expected," Harry laughed, eyes suddenly a bit brighter.

Hermione didn't return it, eyes tracing the pattern of the rug as her heart clenched.

"After Ron…it was hard. Really hard, you know? He was the closest I'd ever had to a brother and suddenly… He was just gone," he continued with a shrug.

"I know," she whispered, throat tightening.

"Neither one of us really knew how to cope, but I guess it was a good thing that we'd both been so close to him. We both knew how the other was feeling, and it slowly got better. The wedding is back on. It's going to be in two months, and we'd really like for you to be there," he said, gazing at her with hopeful eyes.

Hermione threw him a tightlipped smile.

"I'll try," she said.

Harry nodded, a look on his face like he didn't believe that. Hermione swallowed, suddenly nervous.

"H-how is everyone else doing?"

Harry's gaze was intense, seeming to look right through her as he answered.

"The same as us. Slowly but surely getting better. I do believe that Fred told a joke last week."

"That's great," she said with a chuckle.

Harry nodded, an awkward silence falling between them. She fiddled with her fingers, glancing up with wide eyes as he finally spoke.

"He's doing better, Hermione. Much better," he softly answered.

Hermione released a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding. She nodded, tears springing forth.

"Good," she croaked.

Harry suddenly reached out, hand wrapping around her own.

"If you ever change your mind, we're more than happy to-."

"I won't," she interrupted, voice brittle.

Harry blinked, face downturned as he opened his mouth.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she harshly said, yanking her hand back.

Harry blinked again before nodding in understanding.

"Just…if you ever change your mind…"

Hermione woke up in the middle of night to the sound of knocking on her front door. She groaned, turning over and pulling a pillow over her head, not fully realizing just what it was that she was hearing just yet. Another set of knocks followed, rising from downstairs, and she huffed, rising in a fit of anger before harshly throwing the covers off of her. She was sure that her angry steps could be heard all throughout the house as she descended the stairs, ready to give whomever this was a piece of her mind. It was only when she reached the living room did it finally hit her.

There was someone knocking on her door in the middle of the night.

All thoughts seemed to cease as she stared at the door with wide eyes, fear holding her in place. She didn't register that her hands had started shaking, choppy breaths escaping her mouth as she willed her right foot to slide backwards. The sound stopped, and Hermione held her breath, hoping and praying that it was just some random drunkard who'd lost his way, eventually deciding to move on.

What if it is just someone who needs help? What if they could get hurt, or worse?

Hermione quietly exhaled, slowly inching forward, footsteps silent as she approached the door. There was a peephole, and all she had to do was lean upwards and-.

Her train of thought was brought to a screeching halt as the knocks started up again, and any previous thoughts she had were thrown out of the window as the knocking turned into pounding, the loud banging sound ringing in her ears like a church bell. Was it Riddle? Draco? Was it crazy that she wasn't sure which option was worse?

Hermione didn't know, but what she did know was that she had no intentions of sticking around to see who was on the other side of that door. She stumbled back before turning around and sprinting towards the stairs just as the sound of someone throwing their entire body into the door reached her ears.

She climbed the stairs two at a time, almost stumbling as she attempted to hop over three at once. She'd just rounded the corner, heading towards the bathroom at the end of the hall when she could hear a loud noise, almost like a crash. It wasn't. It was the sound of the back of her door bouncing against the wall as someone forced it open. She could hear several pairs of footsteps making their way throughout the house as she shut and locked the door.

It would hardly pose a threat, but Hermione only needed to buy time. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she opened the window, stepping out without hesitation, and hanging onto the gutters as she slid out. She was on the back end of the house, and when she looked down, she was relieved to see that no one had made it out back yet. The distance wasn't far, but far enough to hurt like a bitch, and it was the last thing that Hermione wanted to do.

Correction, getting caught was the last thing that Hermione wanted to do.

With that thought, and with a grimace, she let go, landing on her side. She bit her lip to keep from making a noise as pain shot up her left arm. She forced herself to her feet, slowly making her way along the side of the house and towards the front. She peaked around the corner, heart jumping as her eyes landed on four cars in front of her house. Every single door was wide open, and Hermione correctly guessed that everyone was inside looking for her.

She blinked as she took in all four cars, sleek and sporty.

Her jaw clenched as she realized who was in her house.

She took a few slow steps away from the house, eyes on the door before turning and sprinting down the street. Her closest neighbor was maybe a block away, and Hermione wondered if she could make it there in time. She hoped that they would answer, and that the sight of her would make them more inclined to help. Hermione was only in an oversized t-shirt, feet bare and legs freezing. She could feel them protesting, having haven't tasted exercise in months, but Hermione couldn't stop.

It didn't matter that her arms had started screaming as well, one louder than the other. Her chest was burning, heart erratically pumping beneath her chest with wheezing breaths escaping her open mouth. A light drizzle had started, rain drops landing on her forehead and rolling down her face. None of that mattered, because she couldn't stop.

Stopping meant facing him, and that was something that she wasn't ready for. She had never fully come to terms with everything that had happened, never really having the chance to, to be honest. She kept putting it off and putting it off before eventually just not caring altogether. She wasn't ready to face him as he was, now. She wasn't ready to look at him as not just Draco Malfoy, her ex fiancé and the man that she cared for, but as Ron's murderer.

She wasn't sure how long she had been running, but it was long enough, because up ahead of her was a house, a house with lights shining through the windows. She paid her aching body no mind as she increased her pace, heart beginning to bloom with relief when brightness suddenly appeared from behind her. Something told her that it wasn't just some random person driving down the street, and she pushed her legs harder. Her efforts, though, were wasted.

The car drove past her, sharply turning to the left, blocking her path and forcing her to collapse on her side. She hissed when she landed on her bad arm, not even faltering for a second as she pushed herself to her feet and took off running. She'd barely gotten three steps in when she felt familiar arms snake around her waist. She jerked away with a scream, the sound abruptly cut off when a large hand came over her mouth as he leaned back, yanking her up with her feet kicking out.

Before she knew it, her back harshly connected with the hood of his car. She glared at him as he pinned her to the front of the vehicle, face hard with a wild look in his eyes that told her he'd driven himself crazy looking for her. Satisfaction bloomed in her chest, despite the contrasting feeling that was slowly bleeding into her heart. A surge of emotion rushed through her, and Hermione swallowed it down, reaching out to shove him away.

He let her, eyes never leaving her face as she straightened herself, neither one of them paying any mind to the weather as it soaked them. She was reluctant to admit that he looked as put together as ever. If she didn't know better, she would say that he was completely unaffected by her abrupt departure ten months ago. His eyes, however, told a different story. A storm of emotions raged in them: fury, betrayal, relief, desperation, and love. There was one that was missing, one that Hermione was desperately looking for.

There was not one ounce of regret on his face, and Hermione's frown deepened.

There was the longest and most uncomfortable silence as they both stared one another down, tension thick between them.

Then Hermione slapped him. Again. And again.

Before she knew it, she was hitting him everywhere, one fist connecting with a shoulder, the other with his chest. She hadn't even realized that the rain was no longer the only thing running down her face as she shoved him over and over. She hurled her arms at him, frustration growing when they barely moved, restricted by his firm hold.

"I hate you," she spat. "God, I hate you."

Draco didn't even flinch, eyebrows furrowed as he tightened his hands around her forearms.

"No, you don't."

It was such a simple answer, empty of malice or mockery. He wasn't saying it to hurt her, only saying it because it was true, like stating the color of the sky. That made her angrier. She yanked her arms, finally getting one free before bringing it across his cheek so hard that his head whipped to the side. He didn't say a word as he kept his gaze on the ground, one arm still holding her as he adjusted his jaw.

"You killed him," she whispered through trembling lips. "You killed him and lied to my face about it."

"I never lied to you," he hissed, turning to face her.

"Don't start with that technicalities rubbish. You murdered him, and then slept with me that same night. His blood had barely been washed off of your hands before you were all but offering yourself to me while I cried. Did you get off on that? Huh? You comforted me for months as I mourned. You went to his funeral!" she shrieked.

She panted, body feeling like it would combust at any moment, and all the while Draco said nothing.

"How could you do that? I don't understand how someone does that… You looked his family in the eyes as you gave your condolences for their loss," she sneered. "Who does that?"

Again he said nothing, and Hermione scoffed, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"How did you do it?" she questioned, stepping forward. "Did you put a bullet in his mouth? Or did you get one of your lackeys to do it for you? Perhaps Blaise? Did you even have the balls to do it yourself-?"

"I slit his throat," Draco harshly interrupted, abruptly stepping forward.

Hermione swallowed, stumbling back as he advanced.

"I kidnapped him and slit his fucking throat wide open," he continued, voice penetrating. "…and just so there isn't any more confusion left between us, darling, he did suffer."

Hermione flinched, lips trembling as her legs brushed against his car.

"Nott and I had a grand time having our fun before I ended his pathetic existence."

Hermione's eyes widened, another stab of betrayal piercing through her, and Draco smirked, a bitter sight.

"I see he conveniently left that part out. I suppose that I can't blame him. I did promise him that he'd never have to lie to you, and technically speaking, he didn't. Nott didn't kill him, but he sure as hell was more than willing to help deliver him to me."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, looking down as more tears ran down her face. She'd always assumed that Theo had found out through Blaise or something, and while she had been upset that he hadn't told her sooner, she had slowly gotten over it. She had never imagined that he was right there with Draco when it happened. The thought had never occurred to her, and how could it? The two of them hated each other.

"I do find it interesting that murder was never a deal breaker before. What makes Ronald Weasley so different from the rest?"

Hermione winced, closing her eyes and swallowing as he unknowingly threw her own thoughts back into her face. Draco suddenly exhaled.

"While this has been a lovely conversation, we really must be going," he suddenly said.

She glared up at him.

"Are you going to kidnap me, Draco?" she asked, voice flat.

He rested his hands on the hood of his car, face a hair's width away from her own. The smell of him was familiar, wrapping around her like a blanket.

"I murder people for a living. What makes you think that kidnapping my fiancée would suddenly be beneath me?"

"Ex-fiancée," she corrected.

A smirk danced along his lips, but he said nothing, only reaching down to gently grab her wrist, holding it up in between them. Hermione felt her face heat up as he eyed the diamond bracelet that was still clasped around her wrist. His eyes found hers again, and she looked away.

"Hmm," was all he said before pulling away.

She refolded her arms over her chest as he walked around the car and opened the door. She waited a moment, briefly closing her eyes with a sigh before following him and sliding inside of the vehicle.

Hermione hesitantly entered his office, looking around the new room in slight awe. He had moved. It was some big house that had been built near the outskirts of town, large and much more protected than the last. It was darker on both the outside and inside, and she figured that she was correct in her assumption that the last house had had a feminine touch. His mother, no doubt. The current office was much bigger as well, and for a moment she'd actually taken the time to admire it, forgetting about Draco's presence altogether.

"Do you like it?"

She turned to face him, slightly startled at the sudden sound of his voice.

"It's nice," she murmured, eyeing him as he leaned against the doorjamb.

He slowly pushed himself away from it, fully stepping into the room before reaching his arm back and shutting the door. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as he kept his intense gaze on her, a look in his eyes that she'd never seen before. His blond hair brushed along his forehead as he neared her.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair next to her. "Let's talk."

With that look on his face, Hermione doubted that all he wanted to do was talk, but she slowly sat down, anyway. Her nerves were having a field day as he walked behind her, fingers brushing along the chair and her shoulders as he moved.

"What is there to talk about?" she quietly asked, tone icy.

She looked up at him as he came to a stop in front of her. He looked down at her, jaw ticking with a sudden unsure look on his face, as if he was barely keeping his emotions in check. Hermione swallowed.

"Draco…?"

He was hesitant as he reached out, as if afraid that she would run away. She didn't when he fingered the bottom of her shirt, only realizing too late what it was that he was doing. Before she could put it together, he'd lifted it, and Hermione's eyes widened, quickly yanking it back down. It had been too late. She knew that as she kept her gaze on the floor, unable to meet his eyes as his own glared holes into her skin.

She could see his feet slowly carrying himself backwards before he sank down into the chair opposite of her. She reluctantly looked up, eyeing him through her hair. He rested one ankle on his knee, one hand clutching the armrest, fingers digging into it while the other was curled into a fist that was pressed against his mouth. He wasn't looking at her, eyes focused instead on the large window behind his desk.

It was the most painful silence of her life, and Hermine felt tears spring to her eyes as she took a shuddering breath.

"Draco-."

"A little over five weeks ago the Weasleys and Potter went shopping. I know this, because I started keeping tabs on them as soon as you left. Obviously, I was hoping that they'd eventually lead me to you. They did, by the way. I was able to put a tracker on Potter's rental car just before he went to go see you. That's how I found you…in case you were wondering," he quietly began.

Hermione brushed her hand along her cheek. She'd never heard him like this before, subdued and almost…sad as he spoke.

"Anyway, the lot of them had gone out. They were shopping, eating, making a day of it, I suppose. It was terribly boring, but then all of a sudden, Potter and his fiancée had just…disappeared. One had gone to the bathroom, and the other to another store, and neither one of them came back."

Hermione didn't need the recap, because she remembered all of it as if it were yesterday. She was the one who had come up with the plan, anyway.

"This was a bit alarming, but do you know what was even more alarming? The rest of the family didn't seem concerned in the slightest. They kept on shopping and enjoying themselves and then drove back home. I'm loathe to admit that it took quite a while before it finally clicked."

He turned to face her, eyes meeting her own with a bitter smirk on his lips as he dropped his arm.

"They'd gone to see you…"

She looked away.

"You'd pulled a fast one on me, and I honestly had never been more impressed. Of course, once I suspected why, I don't think I'd ever been angrier," he mused.

Draco took a deep breath.

"Then…," his voice was deathly quiet. "They returned about two weeks later. Showing up at the house…with a mysterious little bundle of joy."

Hermione abruptly stood, but Draco was quicker, blocking her path as he towered over her. His chest was heaving, and Hermione knew this because she was staring at it, unable to look at his face. She ran her hand along her stomach over her shirt, absentmindedly rubbing her stretch marks, something she did often.

"Is that my son?"

Hermione bit her tongue, moving to step around him, but he was already there. He reached out, halting all of her movements.

"Is that my son? Answer me," he hissed.

"I don't know," she bellowed, finally looking up at him.

His eyes were wide, and he dropped his hands, dazed.

"You don't know?"

"I didn't find out I was pregnant until pretty late, when I had started gaining weight like crazy. I hadn't really had any symptoms that would have clued me in. The doctor said that it was rare, but it happened on occasion. At the time, they said that I was roughly four months, but they couldn't give me an exact pinpoint," she quietly answered.

Neither one of them said anything to that, knowing exactly why she'd been desperate to know how far along she was exactly. Draco was looking away now, eyes hard and fists clenched.

"I just figured that I'd know when he was born, but-."

She suddenly cut herself off, tears spilling over. Draco looked down at her with wide eyes, panic crossing his features as he reached out.

"He was born early. I thought- Draco, I thought that he was going to die…"

He guided her back into the chair, kneeling in front of her as he brushed her hair away from her face.

"He had to stay there for almost a month. That was when I'd gotten Ginny and Harry to come visit me…and eventually take him," she whispered.

Draco sighed, hands resting on her knees as he rubbed patterns into them.

"We need to find out whose it is, Hermione."

Hermione frantically shook her head.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. Riddle is alive. He survived…"

Hermione briefly closed her eyes, an unknown feeling taking hold as he told her what she had feared most.

"Hermione, Riddle is the head of his operation, and I'm next in line to take over after my father. You didn't just give birth to a son, you gave birth to an heir," he slowly explained.

Hermione frowned, looking at him like she wanted to throttle him.

"Heir? Heir to what? He's no heir to anything. I gave him up because I will not let him grow up in this life, Draco," she spat, standing and towering over him.

He followed her lead, towering over her.

"You have no intentions of getting him back?" he bellowed in disbelief.

"If you ever change your mind, we're more than happy to…"

Hermione blinked, faltering for a moment before shaking her head.

"No. I don't… Harry and Ginny will be good to him, much better than you and I could ever be."

He simply glared at her for the longest time before spinning around, swiping his keys along the way.

"Where are you going?" she frantically asked him, grabbing his jacket and halting his movements.

He spun around, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'm going to get my son. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Panic gripped her heart, and she grabbed him again when he turned around, lifting his coat away and grabbing his gun. He turned to face her, annoyance dancing across his features as she pointed the gun at him.

"I left because of everything that had happened," she began. "…but I stayed away because of him."

"Give me the gun, Hermione," he said.

"No! I don't want him in this life, Draco. I…I should've given him away to someone else. Complete strangers who I'd never have to see again, or maybe even to a church. I should've let him go, I know that, but I couldn't. I had every intentions of doing that, but then he was born, and I thought he was going to die, but he didn't, and I just…couldn't," she tearfully continued with a shrug.

Draco clenched his jaw with a frown, pain swimming along his features.

"I wanted to see him grow. I wanted to be near him, so I gave him to my best friends. I did that, because if I had kept him, one of you would've gotten your hands on him, and…and that would've marked him for death."

Draco took a step back, looking away at that.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered, and he looked back at her, stunned. "…but I love my son more."

He pursed his lips, a storm brewing in his eyes as she raised the gun towards his face.

"If you touch him, I'll kill you."

So...I've never done that before.