Notes: So good to hear from so many of you, both new and old. Thanks for taking a chance on a story may not have seemed exactly what you were looking for. I think a good story should always be more than it appears and I hope this one can live up to that standard.

WARNINGS: sexual content.

~*~ Thirty Six ~*~

Hermione's head pounded like a hippogriff was dancing on her temples, the serenity of sleep chased away by the throbbing. She slowly rose to a sitting position, noting the soft sheets that brushed across her mostly bare skin. Her trousers and boots had been removed, leaving only her underclothes and a t-shirt that was several sizes too big and smelled vaguely of mint and cedar. She was too tired to care that Draco had undressed her; wasn't sure she would care even if exhaustion didn't cling to her like a second skin. Wasn't sure what she felt toward him at all. In mere minutes, he'd changed everything, forced her to endure a pain and humiliation she'd been unprepared to face. Yet he'd done it for her, for them, for the whole bloody world. But Tom's soul burning within her hadn't felt like freedom; it had felt like unmitigated destruction, cruel and unnecessary.

Groaning, she swung her legs to the side, the stone floor cool against her feet. She padded silently from her bedroom, stopping at the loo to wash her face and relieve herself. Significantly more comfortable, she wandered into their shared sitting room, surprised to find the main room empty. She distinctly remembered an irritated Grindelwald asking them to stay put. Fingers trailing absently over the ornate embroidery of the sofa, she turned her focus to the balcony. The sun was high in the summer sky now, its brilliant light washing over the pale gray stone, making the fine crystals within the grain glitter. Draco stood, shirtless, bronzed skin gleaming, his elbows resting on the elaborate stone banister as he stared out into the cerulean sky. A loose pair of black trousers hung on his slim hips, but his feet were also bare, the heat of the day clear in the sheen of sweat that glistened on his exposed skin.

She'd always assumed he was permanently pale, that his alabaster complexion was genetic instead of environmental. Their months on the road had proved her wrong quickly, his ashen pallor growing into a healthy glow as the months passed. Now it was difficult to reconcile the man that stood before her with the pale ghost he'd been during their time at Hogwarts, both recently and as children. She knew Astoria had died mere weeks before they'd met atop the tower, but she hadn't realized how unhealthy he'd been, how lost they'd both been.

Sensing her gaze, he turned, but didn't approach, choosing instead to lean back against the stone, expression inscrutable. Hermione stepped out into the light, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of the stone melted into her feet, the rays of the sun instantly heating her exposed skin. Draco tilted his head, platinum strands dancing over his shoulders at the movement. He hadn't cut his hair and now it hung loose below his shoulders, although he often braided it, the look somehow masculine despite the style. She supposed he could probably weave flowers into it and still be toe-curlingly handsome, all strong angles and sculpted muscles.

"How are you feeling?"

Like she'd survived the Killing Curse. Like she wished she didn't remember every agonizing detail of fighting for Tom's soul. "Tired."

"Yeah. You've been asleep for two days, on and off. I can't imagine what that must have been like." There wasn't quite remorse in those tempestuous eyes, but something close. "I didn't want it to go down like that, but…"

But there hadn't been a better way. She understood the logic, the reason, the choices, but that didn't mean their reality wasn't painful. "Did you know? Did you know I would survive?"

He stared at her a long moment, eyes tracing the shape of her face over and over. "I prayed you would."

"You told me you couldn't lose me."

"I was definitely going to lose you if I didn't do this." He scrubbed a hand over his face, voice cracking as he continued. "I…I couldn't… there was no good option, Hermione. I was there when Voldemort hit Potter with the Killing Curse that day, I saw him move his hand before he went over the parapets. So I hoped, used whatever was left of my faith, to bargain that you would survive too."

"But you turned me in as a traitor. Why not kill me yourself?"

He blinked, expression shattering into horror. "Do you really think me such a monster, even still? The killing curse requires absolute conviction, the desire for another person to end and never come back. I love you. There's no way I could ever cast a successful curse like that at you. Plus the Elder wand seemed the best wand at our disposal for such purposes."

He'd said as much before, but it mollified her to hear it again. He had betrayed her, but he had done it with love in his heart. She still wasn't sure how to parse the complexity of that. "Why not tell me the plan? I would have agreed if you'd only told me."

"I couldn't ask you to die." He turned back to the scarps jutting into the azure sky. "I couldn't look you in eye and tell you I knew you'd survive either. So I didn't tell you anything at all."

"I trusted you." It was an accusation, a plea, a curse.

He swung back around, jaw tense and gaze consuming. "I know and I don't expect your forgiveness. I manipulated you, forced you into a life or death situation without your consent. For that I am sorry. I am not sorry he's no longer inside you."

A sentiment she couldn't quite agree with. But that was another matter and not a trauma of Draco's making. "What if I had died?"

He jerked, as if struck, his mouth dropping open, moving silently. Finally, he whispered, "Then it would have been over."

"Over?"

"Done. I'd have found Riddle, dragged him here and killed him. After that, I would have been done, free to…"

His silence spoke volumes. He would have killed Tom and then found a way to escape this mortal coil. With the man who had taken both of the women he'd loved dead, his reason to fight would be gone. Hermione's heart dropped, adrenaline flooding her veins as the reality of his words continued to cut into her. Whatever doubts and resentments she'd had fractured as she closed the distance between them. Draco melted into her, his damp skin hot against her frantic hands.

"I'm sorry. You scared me. There were moments I wasn't sure trusting you was the right decision." It was the truth. She still felt the echo of doubt, a product of his deception, but she also felt the bolt of terror that had run through her at the prospect of his suicide, at the realization that he had nothing to live for beyond Tom's demise without her in his life. They were both so very broken.

"I don't ever want to scare you again," he whispered against her hair, arms tightening around her. "I hated doing that… it reminded me of everything I try to forget. Of the crimes I will never wash away, of the truth that I deserve this." He pulled back to indicate his leg, his eyes alight with a frenzied loathing that took her breath way. "I deserve every second of this pain, every loss. Astoria didn't deserve to die, but I deserved to lose her."

"Don't say that." The words sounded small, pathetic.

"You don't know what I've done. You don't know the truth of the monster I became." His eyes were twin pits of misery, hell made manifest. He staggered back from her, tearing away from her desperate grip. "I'm the vilest of them all. There is no forgiveness for my sins, no absolution for my guilt. Nor should there be."

Hermione stared at him, hands limp by her sides, words dying in quick succession in her throat. She wanted to tell him it was okay, to say it would get better, that their world would change and they'd grow old and die together happily ever after. But it wouldn't. He could never undo what he had done. Draco was right; the blood on his hands would never wash away and he would live with the horror every day for the rest of their lives.

"I love you." It was the only thing she could say. Everything else was a lie, paper thin platitudes that meant nothing.

"You really shouldn't."

"I have a habit of falling for people I shouldn't."

"Falling?" The tempests in his eyes were suddenly still, the misery evaporating like summer rain.

Her teeth worried her bottom lip for a long moment before she let the words tumble out. "Falling, like falling in love."

"In love? I thought you said—"

"I lied. I lied to myself and to you. I was terrified—I still am—and I couldn't take the risk." Hermione stepped into him, hands sliding over the sculpted muscles of his torso, the bronzed skin twitching at her touch. "I can't tell you some part of me isn't still stuck on Tom. When Grindelwald cast that spell, I fought for his soul, Draco. I fought for a boy who used me, who destroyed me because I can't eradicate him from my psyche. And I'm terrified of what that means for me. And I'm terrified of you. You, this man who's capable of such darkness, but who has only ever saved me, even when I fought you tooth and nail. You, who love me more than I have ever been loved. You, who can destroy me, who can make Tom's scars seem like mere scratches."

His heart was beating frantically beneath her palm. He ducked his head, his face now a breath away, his lips hovering over hers. "I can't promise this will end well."

She couldn't either. They couldn't promise each other anything beyond love and they both knew that wasn't enough. But she didn't care. "I'm tired of fighting this, Draco. I'm tired of fighting everything, of holding on to nothing but ghosts."

Hermione didn't know which of them moved first, only that their lips were fused, the heat of his chest burning through the material of her shirt. Her hands twined in his hair, nails scraping the base of his skull. He moaned, mouth opening over hers, tongue trailing the seam of her lips. She parted them for him with a soft sigh, shuddering as he nipped at them before delving further into the heat of her mouth, his tongue chasing hers. Her skin was aflame, flushed beyond the heat of the day. He shifted, pulling her upward in a fluid movement that left her legs wrapped securely around his hips, the evidence of his arousal insistent against her. She ground down on him as her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders. He growled into her mouth as he retreated from the balcony to the sitting room, lips never leaving hers.

Hermione was panting by the time he deposited her on the sofa, deft hands removing his shirt from her frame in mere seconds. His lips curved in a delicious smile, bruised and oh so inviting as he lowered to feather kisses over the slope of her stomach and then the curve of her breast, breath hot against her sensitive skin. He retreated a moment to unfasten her bra and she whined at the loss of contact, earning her a roguish grin. The whine broke into a moan as he captured one of her breasts with his mouth, rolling her nipple playfully across his tongue. He repeated the treatment on her other breast, fingers reverently skimming the line of her knickers. He knelt before her, gently guiding her legs apart as his mouth moved down, worshiping every millimeter of her skin as he went.

Her eyes were hazy with pleasure, but the feeling was deeper, the sensation more than she remembered. This was nothing like the escape she'd chased with Harry or the desperation with which she'd clung to Tom. It was deeper, something innate within her bones understanding pleasure was only a facet of the experience. The way Draco touched her, like she was precious, like she was the only thing in the entire world, made her shiver, her legs quake from more than the mere movement of his mouth upon her skin. It wasn't only his lips that were giving her pleasure; it was him. It was this broken man who had nothing loving her despite his failures, despite their lives and their decisions. He was taking her world and shattering it, but unlike so many before him, he was picking up the pieces as he went, coaxing her into something stronger, something less barren and desolate. Merlin, just the look in his eyes was nearly enough to send her cascading over the edge and he hadn't even truly touched her yet.

When he finally did pull Hermione to her feet and guide them to a bedroom, her thighs were slick with desire and her heart was nearly bursting out of her chest. Draco settled her onto the bed, hand trailing over her flushed cheek as he backed away. "Before we do this, you need to know a few things."

"Okay."

He nodded, swallowing. "The actual act of intercourse can be painful for me… because of the curse. There are a couple positions I know that are fine, but I have to be careful."

Her chest tightened, an ache settling in her gut. Of course. She knew how severe the injury was, how debilitating it could be for him. "I'll do whatever you need me to do. And I'll be careful."

A shadow of relief passed over his face, full lips relaxing at her words. "Thank you."

"I love you, Draco. You're not going to scare me off because you're human and feel pain." Hermione reached out for him and he closed the distance, eyes brimming with emotion. She placed a solemn kiss on the inside of his wrist. "I will never judge you for this pain. I wish I could take it away, but I will never think less of you because of it. It doesn't matter what we can't do. I want to be with you in any way I can, just tell me how."

His eyes were calm, but limned with moisture as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "I don't deserve you."

"I don't give a shit about what you deserve," she murmured. "Now teach me how to love you."

He laughed, the sound light and airy, pure delight. "Well, if you insist, Ms. Granger."

"Technically it's Mrs. Riddle." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, before their utter inappropriateness had reached her brain.

Draco merely cocked a brow. "Then I shall very much enjoy making a cuckold of Mr. Riddle."

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding. "I certainly hope so."

"Now come here."

He sat at the head of the bed and beckoned her closer, sinful smirk twisting his swollen lips. She crawled to him, enjoying the heat behind his hungry stare. His fingers were at the edge of her knickers as soon as she reached him, divesting her of the item with haste. Holding his smoldering stare, she worked the ties of his pants. He helped her lower them and his underclothes a moment later, both of them taking care to avoid touching his left thigh.

His arousal suspended between them now, Hermione reached forward, taking him firmly into her grasp, drinking in the soft gasps of his pleasure as she stroked him. Draco's eyes were hooded, bleary with need as he stilled her hand.

"I want to be inside you."

She trembled, grip spasming. He moaned in response before guiding her to straddle him, thighs resting on the taut muscles of his abdomen. Full mouth gasping in pleasure, he tenderly gripped her hips as he lowered her onto him, slow enough she ached for more even as he continued her decent. When she finally rested against him, filled to the hilt, they began to move. At first he kept full control of their thrusts, guiding her with his hands, but also letting her adjust, letting the pace and angle evolve as she explored the sensation between them. Soon he was letting go, drawing her down to capture her mouth with his, to tangle his dexterous fingers in her hair, to worship of the column of her throat.

She lost herself in the glide of him within her, in the relentless reverence of his touch. His hands were everywhere at once, coaxing pleasure from every corner of her body, shaping her into something fresh and new. She dropped over the edge so many times she lost count and by the time he spilled within her, she was boneless and sated, trembling with a pleasure that was far more than the visceral.

Draco turned a wolfish grin upon her, his bronzed skin gleaming, begging her to run her hands across the contours of him. She didn't resist. His grin merely grew. "I told you it was better when it was about love."

She could hardly argue now. Whatever possessive ritual she'd shared with Tom seemed a pale reflection of what had just happened. For so long sexual pleasure had merely been an escape, but now she wanted to be here, to remember every moment with Draco, to live in the moment and remember it.

Too bad you forgot about your shielding, my dearest wife. Or rather, my adulterous wife.

Hermione screamed, hands flying to her head as she flew off the bed. The Horcrux was gone. He was supposed to be gone. "Get out of my head!"

Draco was by her side in an instant, ignoring the clear pain that followed the sudden movement. "What's happening? Hermione?"

"Tom's here."

Tell that bastard I'm going to kill him for touching my wife. I'm going to tear him to pieces and let you watch, and I won't end his suffering until you're begging for me again. She could almost see Tom standing beside her, teeth gnashing and cobalt eyes dark with rage.

"Occlumency, Hermione!" Draco's stern command cut through the horror of Tom's threat. "You can control this. You've controlled it for months."

It's too late, my dearest wife. I know where you are and I am coming for you. Don't you dare touch him again if you want his suffering to be brief. The connection cut off abruptly and Hermione was able to concentrate enough to snap her shields into place.

Voice shaking, she murmured, "He's gone, for now. But he knows, Draco. He knows where we are."

"Then we prepare. Grindelwald has promised to uphold our deal even after what I did." He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her trembling body. "He will not get to you, I promise."

"He wants to torture you, then kill you." The moment didn't seem real, juxtaposed against the intimacy they'd shared mere moments before.

"Nothing he hasn't already done to me."

"You're not dead, Draco," she argued. "Whatever Voldemort had against you before, it's nothing compared to what Tom feels now. He not only knows where we are, but he also felt what we just did. And the fact that he could get in my head? That means there's something besides the Horcrux binding us together, like you suspected."

"I know." Draco cupped her cheeks, thumb brushing away tears she hadn't known were falling. "I know. But we're going to get through this. I promised Astoria and I promise you, I will end him."

Hermione didn't know if the solemn vow reassured her or not, but she leaned into his touch, surrendering to the feeling of safety and security he evoked.