Songs – Turn on Me by The National, twice as tough by upsidedownhead (feat. Mansionair), and Forever by Labrinth

Chapter Twenty: A Bit of Recovery

Misty cowered as another glass shattered against the wall behind her.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS?!" the man bellowed, his eyes filled with rage.

"No one has seen her since Rodolphus was captured," Misty told him, her voice shaking as she kept her eyes on the ground. "I've exhausted every contact that I have in the Ministry. If anyone knows where she is, they're not talking."

"Exhausted?" the man repeated angrily, glowering at her as he spoke. "What do you know about exhausted?"

Misty began to tremble. She thought she had seen the peak of his anger when the Ministry announced that Rodolphus had been caught, forcing the Aescling to expend valuable energy to keep the idiot from giving them up, and so she hadn't been quite prepared for his maniacal reaction to her latest news.

But she knew better, so she should have been.

"You had one job," the man muttered, pulling the cork off the bottle next to him and tossing it across the room. He paused, bringing the bottle to his lips to swallow half of its contents before glaring at her again. "One. Fucking. Job." Each word rolled off his tongue like an individual threat, as if they each held a haunting power of their own.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

If she had been braver, she might have told him 'I told you so.' She might have, if she wasn't so scared that he would get rid of her like he did the last one, told him that he should have let her take care of things when she had the chance. But she didn't. She could see the murderous look in his eyes, and she knew if she was going to make it through the night – hell, if she was going to make it through the next few minutes – she was going to have to take whatever punishment he threw at her without complaint. Whether she really deserved it or not.

The man grunted and took another swig from his bottle, his eyes still watching her from his position at the table. "I know what you're thinking," he taunted, wiping the side of his mouth with his sleeve.

"I don't know what you mean," she dared, trying to ignore the signs that her body was giving her to turn and run.

"If you had kept tabs on all of them like I had requested, none of this would have happened," the man spat, slamming the bottle harshly on the table.

Misty bowed her head in resignation. It didn't matter that he specifically hadn't asked her to follow any of them. It didn't matter that it was Rodolphus who had gone off his rocker before finishing the job. It was still her responsibility to know what he needed, and to do it without asking – it's what she had been raised to do – and in that regard, she knew that she had truly and utterly failed.

We all did eventually.

If she had learned anything in her short life, it was this: there was no running from fate – at least not while he was still in control of hers.

She kept her head down, only risking a quick glance at the man from under her lashes. And what she saw wasn't all that surprising. He was still glaring at her, his chest heaving in tune with what she could only assume were his agitated heartbeat as his fingers taped impatiently on the table in front of him. To anyone else, the image might have proved too much to handle, but for her, it was almost a relief to know what was coming next.

"What a pity," the man said finally, pausing only long enough to pick up his wand. "I think you need a little reminder what I do to people who fail."

"It won't happen again, I promise," she whispered despite knowing that it would never be enough.

"No," he said indignantly, the ire in his voice chilling her to the bone, "it won't."

She didn't feel anything at first – she always knew that she wouldn't – but then she was screaming, and the last coherent thought she had was wishing she could have found a way to end things in the same way that the one who had started this all had done for herself.

"Potter," Draco growled, his legs shaking underneath him. "If you keep moving that wheelchair away from me, you're going to get an eye full of something that I know you don't want to see when I topple face-first onto the floor," he warned, referring to the fact that the nurses still refused to let him change out of the ridiculously unflattering hospital gown.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved slightly farther down the hallway, wheelchair in tow. "Oh stop your whining, Malfoy," he rebuked. "No one likes a quitter."

Despite his objections, Draco took another step, grimacing as he felt the bones in his knees grinding together uncomfortably. "I can barely feel my legs," he admitted, his voice heavy and tired. "Just let me sit down for five minutes."

Harry, who was still a few paces away from Draco, eyed his friend suspiciously. When he had showed up to the hospital earlier that morning, he found Draco agitated and on the verge of an outburst as one of his nurses tried to encourage him down the hallway. And honestly, he wasn't sure he could blame him. It had to be frustrating only being able to walk a few steps before requiring some sort of assistance, and knowing it was only a matter of time before Draco lost it completely, he had decided it was better for a friend – someone who wouldn't be offended when they were yelled at – to help him get through the afternoon. I can take over, he had told the nurse, smiling weakly in apology. The woman had simply nodded and rushed away, no doubt happy for the reprieve, leaving Harry with the near impossible task of getting Draco to continue his grumpy walk down the hallway.

"Fine," Harry relented, pushing the wheelchair back over to his friend. "But I'm not pushing you back to your room."

"You'll be sorry you said that when the Healers tell you that I'm permanently damaged," Draco quipped, wincing as he fell down into the chair.

The pain in his legs was debilitating, and while he would have preferred to pretend that it didn't exist, that he wasn't still crippled, there was only so much he could do to hide his frustration. And really, it might not have bothered him as much if his damn father hadn't tried to gift him a cane earlier that morning.

"Is this a joke?" Draco said, turning the perfectly polished snake head over in his hand.

"What on earth makes you think that?" Lucius replied seriously.

"I'm not using this," Draco told him, holding out the cane for his father to take back.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be so dramatic," he said, exasperated.

"This thing is dramatic," Draco retorted, lifting the absurd gift farther up in the air. "That's precisely the point."

"You can't possibly tell me that you'd rather continue using that horrid contraption," Lucius snapped, his eyes falling on the metal walker in the corner of the room.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Draco affirmed stubbornly.

With a sigh of annoyance, Lucius finally snatched the cane out of his son's hand and placed it next to the bed.

"Miss Granger seemed to think you'd appreciate the thought," the older Malfoy noted, somewhat hurt by his son's rather blatant rejection.

Draco threw his head back and groaned before grabbing the gaudy stick and using it to stand up out of his chair.

"Happy?" he asked, resisting the urge to swear under his breath.

Lucius smiled proudly. "Very much so."

No, the cane definitely didn't help improve his mood.

"For fuck's sake," Draco breathed, suddenly glad that he had hid the damn thing under his bed before Harry had shown up. "I feel like I've aged 100 years."

"It'll get better," Harry tried to assure him. "Two weeks ago, you couldn't even get yourself out of bed."

"Thanks for the reminder," Draco snorted, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "As if I'd ever forget you having to help me to the loo."

Harry laughed. "And I'll forever cherish that memory."

Draco had made an impressive amount of improvement since waking up, especially considering what had been done to him, but he was getting restless cooped up in the hospital. He wanted to be free to do whatever he pleased. He wanted to breathe some fresh air. He wanted, for once in the last few miserable weeks, to be allowed to sleep in the same bed as the woman that he loved.

"Can't you – I don't know – pull some Chosen One strings and finally get me the hell out of here?" Draco asked seriously.

"It took Kingsley weeks to prefect the protection shield around this ward. And you know as well as I do that he would murder me in the middle of this hospital if he found out I helped you escape before the Healers gave the okay," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Plus, I'm not overly fond of what Hermione would do to me if I snuck you out either."

"Coward," Draco muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Harry chided.

As much as he didn't want to admit that Harry was right, Draco knew that he was lucky to have been able to continue treatment at St Mungo's at all. Kingsley had designed a state-of-the-art shield to confuse anyone that wasn't explicitly granted access to see him, which meant that even the other people working and staying on the same floor as him couldn't get within 100 visual yards of him. Not even the Prophet, which had an irritating habit of finding things out that they shouldn't, had been able to figure out where he was. And if he hadn't been the one the shield had been designed to protect, he would have marveled at the level artistry it took to create, but weeks of only being able to see the same ten people was starting to get old.

"Oi, Potter," came a voice from the other end of the hall. "Aren't you supposed to be walking him?"

The two men looked up to see Theo strolling down the hallway, his perfectly pressed robes flying behind him as he sauntered quickly toward them.

"I am not a dog, Theodore," Draco growled, ignoring the smirk on Theo's face as he came to a stop next to Harry.

"Pity," Theo replied. "I think I'd prefer you that way," he added, reaching over to pat Draco on top of the head.

Draco, whose arms were working just fine, aimed a punch between Theo's legs, but missed his intended target when he jumped nimbly out of the way.

"Manners, Malfoy," Theo admonished, shaking his finger wildly in front of his friend's face. "Your mother would be so disappointed."

Draco shook his head in annoyance but couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Don't worry," he said after composing himself. "She already is. Got my muggle-born girlfriend pregnant before marriage, remember?"

Theo snorted. "Oh, please," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Narcissa and Hermione are practically inseparable these days. The way the two of them whisper to each other, you'd think they were plotting to take over the world."

"For all we know, they might be," Harry added quite seriously.

Draco groaned. "And on that depressing note," he began, using his arms to push his body up out of the wheelchair. "I'm going to pathetically shuffle my way back to my room."

His movements were slow and unsteady, but even Draco had to admit it was a minor miracle that he was walking around, let alone awake, and he knew he really shouldn't be complaining. The damage from the curse should have killed him – or so he had been told – and so when he had woken up without any feeling in his legs, it hadn't even bothered him. All that mattered was that he was alive, and that Hermione was right there next to him.

"I have to say," Theo began, turning to walk backwards next to Draco, "this hospital gown really doesn't do anything for your skin tone."

"It certainly doesn't do anything for your arse," Harry piled on, chuckling as he pushed the empty wheelchair behind them.

"For fuck's sake," Draco mumbled to himself, throwing his head back as their laughter rang out across the hallway. "I need new friends."

Hermione's hand tightened around Draco's as Harry relayed the news.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Harry confirmed sadly.

"Nothing at all?" Draco asked again, unsure if he could really believe the words coming out of Harry's mouth.

"Yes. Nothing," Harry repeated.

"Nothing," Draco whispered, the fingers of his free hand tapping mindlessly on top of his thigh.

"Yes," Harry said again. "Am I not speaking clearly?" he asked, turning to Theo who had been busy staring at his fingernails from the corner of the room.

"I think he's in shock," Theo suggested, noting the blank expression on Draco's face as he struggled to digest the news. "N. O. T. H. - " he began loudly.

"I can spell, thank you," Draco interrupted, waving a hand in the air. "How the hell does the Norwegian Ministry know nothing about the damn curse?"

"Maybe they lost the book," Theo offered, shrugging. "What?" he said when he caught Hermione glaring at him.

"You," Draco began, pointing a finger at Theo, "are not helping."

"Apparently, Norse mages were careful about what they recorded. Not a single one of their texts contains anything specific about the kind of magic they used, let alone a detailed explanation of the Meiða curse. Their Aurors are as stumped as we are," Harry interjected, hoping to keep things calm. Draco, it seemed, was in another one of his moods, and the last thing he needed was a repeat of two days ago when he had gotten angry with the nurse for making him do another lap down the hall.

"But they did send us some notes and other things that might be helpful to look through," Hermione said, smiling softly at Draco from her position next to him.

"If they were really all that bloody helpful, then we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?" Draco growled, his irritation bubbling over.

Hermione sighed. Draco had become increasingly irritated in the past few days, taking it out on anyone that gave him any sort of bad news, but she knew that his frustration was coming from a good place. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, and his anger was simply a reaction to having no idea how to do that, especially in his current state.

"I'm sorry," Draco said suddenly, his face softening when he saw Hermione biting at the inside of her cheek, "I just don't like sitting around waiting for someone to attack. I can't– you're too..." He swallowed heavily, unable to finish his thought.

"I know," Hermione told him, moving a hand to the side of his face, her thumb tracing across his lips.

A shiver traveled down Draco's spine, and if it weren't for his damn legs, which still weren't capable of supporting his weight for much longer than a couple minutes, and the damn wheelchair he was currently stuck in after a draining morning of physical therapy, he would have stood up and pulled her against him. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"It's like we're not even in the room," Harry grumbled, glancing over at Theo in a moment of solidarity.

"When you two are done imagining what you're going to do to each other when his pecker is finally working again," Theo said, rolling his eyes dramatically, "I think Potter has some things he'd like to share with the class."

Hermione blushed and pulled her hand away.

"My pecker is functioning better than yours, I imagine," Draco quipped, smiling as the images of Hermione's mouth around his cock the day before flashed behind his eyes. Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, tried to muffle her sniggers with her mouth.

"Merlin, can the two of you at least try to behave when other people are around," Harry said, looking back and forth between the couple.

"You're the one who keeps showing up when she's here," Draco retorted, giving Hermione a quick wink. "But please, continue explaining how you've learned absolutely nothing over the past few weeks."

"Right," Harry said, pushing his glasses back up his nose, doing his best to ignore the inappropriate smirk that was still plastered on Draco's face. "Er– well, Kingsley has decided that it's best if we move you from the hospital," he blurted out, much less eloquently than he had intended. "The shield has been working so far, but it's really only a matter of time before someone, accidentally or not, lets it slip that you're here."

"Something tells me I'm not going to like you say next," Draco mumbled, catching the nervous twitch at the corner of Harry's mouth.

Harry smiled apologetically. "Kingsley is sending you to the Manor."

"Of fucking course he is," Draco sighed. "And let me guess, I'm not allowed to leave?"

Harry nodded. "I know you'd rather stay anywhere else–"

"Obviously," Draco said loudly.

"–but Hermione is already settled there. Plus, the wards on that place are scary good."

Draco had known for a while that a move back to the Manor was inevitable after his ordeal, especially after Kingsley informed him that he had been reinforcing his family's wards with a shield similar to the one at the hospital, but deep down, he had been hoping that there would still be some way to wiggle his way out of it.

"You almost sound impressed, Potter," Draco managed after taking a few calming breaths. He paused, casting his eyes back toward Hermione who was busy trying to avoid his eyes while biting nervously at her lip. For fuck's sake, he thought. She's going to be the actual death of me. "The things I do for love," he sighed, turning back to Harry. "Fine. I'll go willingly. But only for her."

"And?" Harry asked, grinning. He had expected shouting – lots of shouting – but it was so much more fun to watch Draco squirm uncomfortably in his wheelchair instead.

Draco exhaled loudly, making his displeasure with the entire situation blatantly clear. "I promise to be a good boy and keep both feet within bounds at all times."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Harry teased, crossing his arms across his chest.

Theo, who had somehow managed to maneuver his way behind Draco without him noticing, patted him roughly on the head. "Good boy," he said before leaping quickly out of his friend's reach.

Harry, Theo, and Hermione began laughing hysterically.

"I hate all of you," Draco muttered, wheeling himself over to the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, her hands still clutching her stomach as the last of her giggles died off.

"This dog is going to try to walk himself," he said, pushing himself out of the wheelchair and shuffling out into the hallway.

"I'll go," Theo offered, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't verbally abuse the staff."

When they were alone, Harry moved onto the bed next to Hermione and grabbed her hand. "How are things – you know, besides his general annoyance with everyone who isn't you?" he asked.

"He's still scared," Hermione replied quietly, her smile quickly fading. "He tries to hide it, but I know he's struggling with all of this."

Harry sighed heavily. "Is he still having nightmares?"

Hermione nodded. "He doesn't sleep much."

And honestly, if it weren't for the amount of energy that she was spending growing another human being, she wouldn't have been sleeping much either.

"Maybe getting out of the hospital will be good for him," Harry offered hopefully. "It'll certainly be safer to have him behind the wards at the Manor with you."

"It's not him they want, Harry," Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly.

Whoever sent Rodolphus, never wanted him. They wanted me.

"It'll be safer to have you both at the Manor," Harry corrected, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Once Draco's there, I'll have no reason to leave anymore," she assured him, smiling weakly.

After Draco informed everyone about the threat against Hermione, leaving the Manor, which already had been quite the to-do, had become even more difficult and time consuming. Not only could she not leave without a small army of undercover Aurors surrounding her, but she also couldn't walk out of the front door without being fully disguised as some distant (and very blonde) Malfoy relative.

"Harry," Hermione said after a few moments, her hands resting over her womb. "If something happens to me–"

"Stop," he told her. "Don't do that."

Hermione looked up at her friend with tears in her eyes. "We're no closer to figuring out why someone is after me than we were before. We need to be prepared for the chance that they might actually succeed."

"You will be safe at the Manor," Harry asserted, his green eyes studying her. "Even Kingsley couldn't find a way past those wards."

"Do you honestly think whoever taught Rodolphus the curse doesn't know how to get past some ancient blood wards?" Hermione asked. But she didn't wait for an answer; they both knew what it was. "I know you want to think I'll be safe somewhere, but I think we both know that this magic is stronger than anything we've encountered before. If they figure out where I am, I don't think a few wards will be enough."

"I'm not just going to give up," Harry said, his voice low. You're too important.

"I know," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

They sat there quietly for a few moments, neither sure what else to say. The past few weeks had been hard on everyone, and they all had been living in perpetual fear that something bad was waiting around every corner. Despite the precautions that had be implemented to conceal her identity each time she stepped off the Manor property, Harry, Theo, and Dean still took turns escorting Hermione to the hospital each day, each of them, like herself, disguised to hide who they really were. Even when she was at the Manor, Narcissa rarely left Hermione alone, and even Lucius, who had mostly resorted to his old moody ways after she had moved into the garden home, set to work adding extra layers of wards around the property. And if that wasn't enough, Kingsley, the Minister of fucking Magic who was undoubtedly the busiest wizard in all of Britain, had decided to take shifts standing guard outside of Malfoy Manor. Everyone was on edge, but no one knew what to do or what to expect next.

Hermione wasn't blind to the risks people were taking to protect her. She knew that if someone came for her, people would likely get hurt, and every time she thought about it, her stomach would twist uncomfortably. Most days, the only thing that kept her from doing something foolish was knowing that Draco needed her and that their unborn child needed her even more.

Hermione leaned her head against Harry's shoulder and exhaled deeply. "Do you think our lives will ever be normal?" she asked despite already knowing the answer.

"I think we left normal behind the moment we set foot in Hogwarts," he said, chuckling softly.

And Hermione couldn't agree more.

Draco couldn't stop staring at her. He certainly couldn't keep his hands off of her, and he definitely didn't try very hard. His recovery had been slow – frustratingly slow – but now that he was a little better, now that he could walk down the block relying on nothing but his own two feet, there was nothing that could keep him away from her. Not even their current living situation, which thanks to the Minister (and his mother, no doubt) meant he was back in his ancestral home, could dampen his mood. He was with her. He was going to be a father. And he was never, ever going to complain about anything ever again.

Probably.

Well, at least for right now.

It was the middle of the night after another tiring day of rehab and getting the Manor's ridiculously large garden home ready for a baby, but Draco couldn't sleep, his thoughts inevitably drifting to the day he wanted so desperately to forget. The frequency of his nightmares still hadn't eased, and while the Healers had prescribed him some potions to try, he was hesitant to take any of them. He knew what they could do to a person, and he'd rather deal with the terror than risk becoming dependent on them.

Most days, he dealt with his anxiety by doing anything he could to avoid the memory of what had happened to him. But avoidance only worked for so long, and some nights, like this one, he wished he had never gotten his memory back, that he had never remembered the day Rodolphus tortured him so that he could just get some goddamn rest. It would have been so much easier to live his life unsure exactly what had happened to him, so much easier to just close his eyes and sleep, but alas he did, and he wasn't sure when he would ever feel entirely safe again.

If you hadn't remembered, you would have never known that she was in danger, he reminded himself as he glanced over at the woman snoring away at the other side of the bed.

Reaching his arm across the comically large bed that Hermione had let his mother buy for them, he gently pulled Hermione's sleeping body close to him, hoping that holding her in his arms would provide him with some relief.

And like always, it did. He pressed himself against her, her bum perfectly positioned against his groin, and he nearly whimpered at the closeness of their bodies, burying his nose against her neck to keep himself quiet.

He sucked in a breath when she fidgeted slightly in his arms, worried that he had woken her up, and relaxing only when her breathing became heavy and even again. She would probably sleep through a dragon falling through the ceiling, he thought, moving a hand to rest on her swollen belly, his fingers tracing small circles around her navel as he smiled to himself.

Learning that he was going to be a father had been, to say the least, shocking, but he was excited, and he couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else. Hermione was an incredible witch, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that their child, even with only half her genes, was going to be a force to be reckoned with. Just thinking about it made him want to…

Salazar, pull yourself together.

He already could feel himself hardening against her, his body unwilling to listen to his brain, and if she hadn't just let out a low moan – oh, gods that moan – he would have pulled away from her to let her continue to sleep in peace. But it was too late; she was stirring in his arms, and he definitely was not going to waste her time awake.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Hermione asked, her voice still groggy with sleep as she rolled onto her back.

Fuck him and his dangerously delectable cock, she thought, licking her lips as she opened her eyes to look at him. She felt Draco's hand come to a rest possessively on top of her womb, but even as turned on as she was, even as much as she wanted to jump on top of him right then and there, she decided to play coy.

Just for a little.

"Him?" Draco breathed, moving his hands lower. "Since when is our baby a he?"

Fucking, Theo, Hermione groaned inwardly, putting a hand on her forehead. "You know what I mean," she said, watching as Draco's fingers began to tease small circles across her sensitive skin at the top of her thighs.

"Don't listen to her, princess," Draco whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on Hermione's stomach. "Your mum doesn't know what she's talking about."

"For fuck's sake," she mumbled, tossing her head back against the pillow dramatically.

"Language, Granger," Draco chided quietly. "With that mouth of yours, we'll be lucky if our kid doesn't come out already knowing every swear word in the dictionary," he added, turning to look up at her with an all too familiar mischievous look on his face.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Draco was already moving his hands in between her thighs, tracing his fingers softly along the outside of her knickers, and she didn't dare interrupt him when he got started. In fact, there was no way that he could possibly want this more than she did.

Fucking pregnancy hormones.

She gasped as Draco quickly divested her of her shirt, his fingers tracing a soft line back down her body.

"I don't understand–"

Her words were lost when his fingers pushed the fabric of her knickers aside and dipped into her wet folds.

"Yes?" Draco prompted, enjoying the jerk of her hips when he moved a finger over her clit.

"I don't understand," Hermione began again, her voice barely above a whisper as she attempted and failed to lift her head all the way off the pillow behind her, "why you're still attracted to me when I look like this."

Draco cast his eyes upward, his eyes confused. "Are you kidding me?" he said, continuing to tease her with his fingers as he stared up at her with disbelief. "You're beautiful."

"I am not," she managed, breathing heavily now.

"Yes," he said, pausing to kiss her stomach again, "you are."

Hermione couldn't respond. If she opened her mouth, she knew the only sound that would come out would be another moan, and even though she wanted more – oh so much more – she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his sinful ministrations were affecting her. At least, just not quite yet.

"You're carrying our child," Draco continued, seemingly unperturbed by her silence. "And that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Draco," Hermione breathed, unable to contain her arousal anymore as one of his fingers slid slowly inside of her. Fuck it. "Just get inside me."

Draco smiled. "Whatever you want, my love," he replied, sitting back on his haunches so that he could peel off her knickers. "So, bossy," he murmured as he repositioned himself behind her on the bed.

He was already naked, and she could feel his hardened length resting between her legs as he began to move his body against her suggestively.

"Draco," she said again, wrapping an arm around his neck and turning her head to face him.

"Mmm?"

"Shut up and just–"

He entered her slowly, wanting to relish every single sensation of the movement, but the way she gasped, the way her insides clamped down on him, beckoning him deeper, immediately threatened to send him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hissed, trying to get himself under control.

"Language, Malfoy," Hermione said, barely able to comprehend anything other than the feeling of the man inside of her.

When he was completely sheathed inside of her, Draco began to move slowly, trying to ignore his growing need for release, while his hands played with her sensitive nipples, eliciting a series of high-pitched noises that made his skin tingle with excitement.

Gods she was perfect, and he didn't want her to just hear it; she needed to fucking believe it.

"So. Fucking. Beautiful," he whispered into her ear, smiling softly as she squirmed against him.

The sex hadn't been as rough or fast as it had been their first few months together, but it was still mind-blowing, and he couldn't get enough. Pleasing a pregnant Hermione, the mother of his unborn child, and the woman he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, was more satisfying than anything he'd ever done before. He reached one hand around her body and began rubbing her clit, letting out a satisfied groan when her body shuddered in response.

"Draco, I'm going to–"

He used his free hand to guide her mouth to his own, his tongue parting her lips greedily before clashing it against her own. She didn't need to explain herself, and she certainly didn't need to warn him; the way her body was shaking, the way her eyes had fluttered shut as he called his name was all he needed to know she had reached her peak. And watching her come undone drove him a kind of crazy that he would never be able to explain.

So close to his own release, his thrusts became more erratic, his grasp on her tighter, and then she was shouting his name, his name rolling off her tongue as naturally as the first time they'd fallen into each other's arms, and he didn't stand a chance. He came hard, spilling himself inside of her as his hips jerked against her uncontrollably.

"I love you," she murmured, turning to bury her face against his chest when he finally managed to pull himself out of her.

The words still took his breath away, and he wasn't sure if they ever wouldn't. She held a power over him that he would have considered dangerous under any other circumstance.

"I love you," he told her, burying his hands in her curls. "I'll always love you."

It would never get old, touching her like this, and not even Rodolphus, despite his best intentions, had succeeded in taking that away from him.

"I like Scorpius," Hermione said after a few moments, her mouth dangerously close to Draco's pulse point as she snuggled closer to his body, tossing a leg over one of his own. "If it's a boy."

He chuckled in response, but she was asleep before he could reply, and he had to resist the temptation to kiss her awake again.

"Me too," he muttered, resting his chin against the top of her head. "Me too," he repeated, smiling to himself as his eyes finally closed.

A shadow moved in the darkness, its outline barely perceptible against the faintly lit, new moon night sky.

Hunting had never been his favorite activity, but then again, no one was quite as gifted at it as he was, and so here he was, sneaking around in the dark and doing to work that should have never been his to begin with. Despite his frustrations, deep down he knew that he only had himself to blame. He had never been able to rely on anyone but himself, and so hoping that anyone, even those raised to be at his beck and call, were competent enough to do what he required was his own grievous mistake. And it would have been is undoing, if he hadn't decided to pay one of his inept recruits a visit.

Traveling to the prison had been risky, yes, but if he hadn't, if he had decided to play it safe, wasting precious time poking around elsewhere for answers, he would have never overheard that the blonde had actually survived. More importantly, he would have never pieced together where the blasted girl had been hiding.

Love, the man had grumbled out loud after using the power from his euphoria to wipe every single memory of him from the prisoner's mind. Makes everyone so damn predictable.

He had been canvassing the area for the past week, cautiously probing the overly sensitive wards without setting off any alarms. It had been a century or two since he'd seen any quite as complicated as the ones surrounding the girl, but he'd never been one to shy away from a challenge. He certainly wasn't the least bit concerned about getting through them.

The hard part was done. He had found her. He knew what he had to do to get her. And now all he needed was a little bit of time.

She was the last piece of the puzzle – his puzzle – and no one, not even the ever meddlesome Albus Dumbledore, who – praise the gods both old and relatively new – was long since dead, was going to Hail Mary their way into this happy ending.

a/n: Eeek – I hate to leave you on this somewhat of a cliffy, but then again, I'm not really all that sorry.

In other news: It's another early posting, so I guess I've just gone and thrown my posting schedule right out the window. I can promise that I will continue to post at least once a week – the exact day(s) will just be a surprise for everyone (myself included).

And of course, I have to give a few more shoutouts to some dedicated reviewers – karma_cookie (AO3), who keeps pointing out important things faster than I can get to them in the story (and even some things that I haven't thought too much about), and Ninjettey (ffnet), who's been commenting since the beginning. But really, all of you are wonderful, so thank you for reading!