You don't even need to ask, I've got you. - Draco Malfoy
Weeks. Fucking weeks. She still hadn't told him. He'd patiently waited, as patiently as he could, and yet she remained silent. Surely she must know. How could she not? Was it possible to be that obtuse? He'd never suggest it loud, but Merlin knew the bloody thought was there.
Draco sighed heavily for the umpteenth time that morning. He strummed his fingertips against his desk and perused reports with unfocused eyes. It was one of the few days they did not work together and he hated every fucking moment of it.
He understood her dedication to the girls. They had been traumatized and even if they couldn't remember all the details, they required care. Of course, it had to be her, no one else would do, according to her. She understood their anguish considering she carried it as well.
"Dammit all to Hades!"
"Malfoy's being melodramatic again," Ron sighed.
"Shut up, Weasley."
Ron snickered and nearly ruffled Draco's hair, nearly. He probably should have been focused on his reports but they were boring in comparison to Malfoy's discontent. He hadn't anything better to do anyway.
"Not taking a holiday then? I'm not surprised. Hermione doesn't know how to rest, not really. It was a nice wedding though."
"We hadn't the time and you damn well know it. It was miraculous the Ministry gave us as much time as they did."
"They wouldn't have offered shit if you were anyone else. I wanted to take Pansy to Italy, just an overnight sort of thing and Robards nearly lost his fucking mind." Ron's quill scrawled across the parchment in some semblance of his signature.
"I still can't believe you're dating her." Draco grimaced with the hint of a shudder, not that it bothered Ron.
"Oi! You married Hermione; you've got no room to talk. Daphne's dating my brother and my mum keeps humming and whispering about grandchildren. It's horrid."
Draco was vaguely aware of the chatter around him and while Weasley's voice rose above the rest, it didn't matter. He couldn't focus. He felt warm all the time. It was consuming and horrific and he hated it.
"I think we lost Malfoy," Theo quipped with an easy roll of his eyes.
The small gathering of Aurors laced with Investigators amidst the members of the Hit Wizards, snickered at the obviously distracted blond wizard. They didn't blame him. They merely assumed his thoughts remained with his new wife and they weren't wrong, but they weren't right either.
"Margie!"
Theo hissed a muted curse and suddenly found the space beneath his desk incredibly interesting. He detested Johnathan Greengrass and he really wished Marguerite would stop bringing baked goods to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were only so many fucking scones a man could eat, unless of course, that man was Ronald Weasley.
"Groveling, just how I love to start my day." Blaise Zabini snorted and greedily dug into the basket Marguerite set on the edge of Draco's desk.
"Good morning, Blaise." Marguerite blushed and Ron nearly lost his breakfast.
"Pleasure to see you, Marguerite." Blaise kissed her offered hand, lingering merely to irritate Johnathan.
"Keep your hands off my wife!"
"I'd rather he didn't." Marguerite winked saucily and Blaise responded in kind, much to Draco's irritation.
Draco covered his face with both hands and groaned loudly. He had more important things to focus his attentions on than the Greengrasses. He didn't want to listen to their banter. He wanted to hex them, but he didn't fancy a stint in Azkaban.
"Get out!" He finally shouted, his fist slamming into a biscuit. "Marguerite, see a bloody solicitor or don't, I don't even care. Johnathan, perhaps if you weren't a slovenly carousing fat bastard you wouldn't be begging for affections. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has more important things to do than listen to this shit!"
Marguerite patted Zabini's cheek and spun on her heel. Draco growled low and long until Johnathan scampered after his wayward wife. Draco knew Johnathan had heard the rumours about his heritage and that was enough to strike fear into the man.
"You owe me ten galleons," Theo quipped with a quick slap to the back of Ron's head.
"I'll pay you when you find my fucking sister." Ron rubbed his head and shoved the remainder of his scone between his lips.
"Look, what the fuck do you want me to do? Her belongings are still at the safe house. There are no signs of forced entry. We've questioned everyone, even the Squib. He admits to seeing her and sorry to say, probably shagging her as well. We haven't a single fucking lead!"
Draco cleared his throat and avoided inquisitive blue eyes. He didn't want to voice it, not without Hermione to buffer Weasley's anger. She was late and that didn't bode well either.
"Perhaps," Draco began, "we should consider running diagnostics on the ashes of the Apothecary."
"Granger petitioned the Minister for the testing prior to the wedding," Theo mumbled.
"No." Ron shook his head violently. "No, I can't accept that. She isn't…you're not suggesting…she's my sister, my only sister. She's not dead!" Ron gagged on the remnants of his scone and stumbled as he turned from his coworkers. He ran from the offices without a backward glance and they let him.
While Draco was sometimes remiss to admit it, Weasley was his friend. It was difficult at times to accept that little fact. They'd clashed as children to the utmost degree, but he supposed saving Molly Weasley's life from the likes of Bellatrix will alter any difficult relationship.
He wished it had been Hermione to broach the subject. Weasley probably would have taken the insinuation better if it had been delivered with a bit of compassion and finesse. Kindness wasn't exactly his forte, but he tried, not that anything would soften the blow.
"Alright, well, on that note, we've caught a lead." Theo tossed back the last dredges of his cold tea and shuddered. "Malfoy, you and Granger are tasked— "
"No." Hermione scurried toward them, cheeks flushed, blouse askew, and entirely too pale. "Sorry Theo, I know this case takes priority but today is my scheduled day with the girls."
"Fucking hell, I forgot," Theo groaned. "Weasley is out of commission, I suppose it's Malfoy and Potter then, sorry mate."
"I don't understand why I'm forced to partner with fucking Aurors." Draco snarled and hastily yanked his wife into his lap, his nose immediately lost in her curls of disarray.
"The Ministry is suffering from a shortage of Hit Wizards, that's why! Peasegood hasn't reported yet and this can't wait. Williams and Robards are in meetings with the Minister and the Muggle Minister to coordinate. We've simply got to make do."
"I'd rather go on the mission if that's any comfort." Hermione leant against Draco's chest, though it was obvious she was less than relaxed. "I've got to escort four emotionally compromised witches to their therapies. It would be five, but I fear we've seen the last of Ginny Weasley. I'm assuming one of you has informed Ron about the reports from the Apothecary?"
Draco and Theo exchanged a guilty glance that did not escape Hermione's attention. Draco's hands tightened around her waist, barely resisting the urge to demand answers in the face of her secrecy. However, he knew it wasn't the proper time, despite his impatience.
"Sorry, I'm late!" Harry Potter wiped the sweat from his brow and looked quite apologetic. "There was an issue with Lavender and I spied Ron crying in the lift. I sent him to Grief Services and dispatched an owl for a primary home visit for the Weasleys."
"What did the report say, Granger?" Theo nodded curtly to Potter and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
He had failed. He was entrusted to keep the handful of witches safe and he had tried his damnedest, but it wasn't enough. He might never forgive himself and vowed to bring the murdering fiend to justice.
"I haven't read all of it as of yet. It only arrived this morning but I skimmed it quickly while on the lift. It isn't definitive considering Fiendfyre destroys everything in its wake, but the analysis determined there were remnants of a witch in the storeroom. It will take further testing to attempt to identify her by her magical signature but they really need her-" Hermione faltered, tears filling her eyes.
Draco kissed the side of her neck, his chin perched on her shoulder. It was inappropriate but she required comfort. He knew better than anyone how much she detested displaying weakness. However, at one time, Ginny Weasley had been her friend, her family, and the loss was great.
"Wand, yeah I assumed as much. I sent Wolpert to retrieve it from the safe house." Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, utterly defeated. "The Muggle Minister received a tip concerning some sort of terrorist attack. Dawlish, of all people, noted the connection between the attacks— "
"Child services," Hermione interrupted, unable to contain herself. "Of course! Nearly every Muggle attack has focused on the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. The Muggle counterpart must have a particularly scathing opinion toward them or even harbour intense animosity. Perhaps he wasn't as protected as he believed he should have been. The Wizarding attacks seem to be random but on closer inspection, they seem to be focused…on the Malfoys…"
"Granger," Draco hissed, his thoughts jumbled and his fury threatening to bubble over in a cacophony of snarls and snaps.
"No, just think about it, Malfoy." Hermione squirmed in his lap, which aided in his distraction for a few seconds, despite the seriousness of the conversation. "Borgin & Burkes, while your father was there no less. The Apothecary, which you were in the process of purchasing from disgraced Auror Williamson. I overheard the Minister whispering about an exorbitantly large number of galleons that are missing from the Child's Charity Funds, which your mother heads. Gods, it was so obvious, I don't know how I missed it! The only thing missing really is an Imperius cast upon your father to murder me." Hermione laughed yet faltered quickly as no one joined her.
"Oh please," Draco finally interjected, albeit tersely. "My father's been drunk for so long I'm surprised he can remember how to cast a proper Accio."
"The Malfoys are rather macabre, aren't they?" Zabini curled his lip in faux distaste and winked at Theo, hoping to lighten the mood.
Theo paced, his lips moving silently. Draco knew better than to interrupt him and braced himself for some sort of proclamation that would irritate him. It was fucking tradition at this point. His family was being targeted by a madman and by extension that included his wife. He wasn't about to sit by, idly twiddling his thumbs and allow Potter to be the hero of the day, not again.
"Since we're exceedingly shorthanded," Draco swallowed audibly, choking down the distaste that laced his tongue. "Perhaps we should consider reinforcements. Granger and Potter were quite adept at recruitment during Hogwarts and I imagine their old mates would be more than willing to jump into the fray, Gryffindors that they are."
"No yeah, that's brilliant, Malfoy!" Harry smiled at him and Draco nearly tossed his biscuits on the prat's shoes.
"Do it," Theo ordered. "Granger, keep close to the girls. Malfoy, don't look at me like that. She's taking them on that blasted tube. Daphne and Pansy are rather adept; I imagine she'll be fine. She's Hermione Gran-uh-Malfoy. She can take care of herself, just ask her."
Hermione shifted carefully on Draco's lap and grasped his face with both hands. Their foreheads met and they reached a silent agreement in their equally silent conversation. He begged her to be careful and fucking safe for once and she, in turn, nodded.
"I need to speak to you later. It's rather important and it has absolutely nothing to do with decorating or your mother. I swear it." She pecked his lips lightly and extracted herself from Draco's arms.
His pensive grey eyes followed her movements until she was gone. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from chasing her down. He imagined barricading her in their new home and confiscating her wand. It was a lovely thought, even though he knew it would never come to fruition. She would escape and hand him his bollocks on a silver platter, which would never do.
"Hermione swore," Harry whispered, bumping Zabini's shoulder.
"Obviously Malfoy is a terrible influence on her."
It was perfect, utterly perfect. He couldn't have been more pleased. They were tremendously stupid, not that it surprised him. The Ministry was full of failure; it always had been.
They were quick to condemn and quick to deny. They were quick to conceal their transgressions and pretend. Yes, they were particularly fond of maintaining their innocence when they were anything but.
"Rye, are you alright? You don't look—"
"I'm fine. I told you I was fine. We're nearly done."
"Do you ever," the burly man paused, sighing quietly, "think of them?"
The blond wizard stared at his older brother, his face pinched as an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He didn't want to discuss them; not now, not ever. It hurt too much. It was torment really. How on earth could he explain to his Squib brother the truth of it all?
"I try not to. I know it sounds callous to say that, but we're doing this for them."
"I used to pretend I didn't remember them. It was easier. It's not like I could tell my mates in the orphanage about my magical parents and brother. No one would have believed me."
Rye, the blond wizard, considered comforting his brother, but he hadn't the words. He was filled to the brim with poisonous venom that brewed hatred and revenge. His only solace was the knowledge that this particular act would bring the Wizarding world to their knees in grief.
"I used to ask about you." It wasn't much but it was something and he felt his brother deserved that much.
"Did they, did they ever talk about me?"
It was strange hearing his older brother sound like a timid child. He didn't like it. He wanted the angry beast that enjoyed besting women and creating mayhem. The weakness made him feel things he didn't want to fucking feel.
"No, they didn't," he spat. "They didn't say fuckall about you after they dumped you at that Muggle orphanage. They liked to pretend you didn't exist. They took down every fucking picture of you and went along with their lives."
"Why are you shouting at me? It's not my fault I wasn't born special like you, like them. I didn't deserve what they did to me. I don't even care that they're dead. How does that make you feel?" He towered over his brother and tried to remember when the word brother meant something to him. "They abandoned me and now they're dead. Am I supposed to cry about it? Where were they when I was crying? When I didn't understand why they'd left me? Where the fuck were they?"
Mathias Byrnes felt the tears sting his eyes but he didn't wipe them from his cheeks. He wasn't ashamed of his tears, of his anger, of his unresolved anger toward his dead parents. He didn't want to play with Rye anymore. It was no longer fun. It had nothing to do with him and he hated that he thought it did once. It was a vendetta and what point did that serve? It wouldn't make his parents suddenly love him. They couldn't; they were dead and he wasn't certain how he felt about that.
"Why are you doing this with me if you don't care?"
"It was a bit of fun, I admit that. I didn't mind it in the beginning. I was angry, really fucking angry, and watching those bastards scuttle about was satisfying. They deserved it. They didn't care about us, but now that I think about it, neither did my parents. I don't think I want to be part of your revenge plans in the name of people that threw me away like fucking rubbish."
Mathias knew he shouldn't have expressed his anger. He was bigger. He was stronger. He was a Squib and he never stood a chance.
"Shame you feel that way, really. Sorry, brother. Imperio."
He sighed, pleased and disheartened all at once. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to rise together through the ashes of destruction and finally be at peace. His brother wasn't supposed to turn on him. Matty was no better than those fucking Aurors that told him they were sorry.
What good was sorry? It didn't fix fuckall. It didn't bring back his parents. It didn't mend his broken life. It was just a word and it lost its meaning when it was all they offered.
He understood the plights of War but the Ministry excused their errors with a shrug and went on with their lives. They offered him a job! It was insulting, a consolation prize, as if a well-paying job could stitch the tears in his soul. It did offer him ample opportunity to plot his revenge. They never suspected him, not even the Granger bint.
They detested him. He could feel it, see it in their eyes, and yet never once suspected him. They didn't know shit about him. They didn't care about him, much like his parents hadn't cared a fig for Matty. The similarities were astonishing but he wasn't a fucking Squib. He was a wizard, a Pureblood wizard at that. He was born into opulence and opportunity and now he was nothing but yet another maniacal wizard hell-bent on revenge.
"Fuck it," he hissed. "I hope they all burn."
He flicked his wand, growled explicit instructions and sent his brother on his way. He knew the Unforgivable would hold; Matty wasn't equipped to battle the likes of Dark Magic. If everything went according to plan, Matty would be his perfect scapegoat and he'd walk away scot-free, basking in the glow of destruction.
He smiled and adjusted his pompous ascot just as a nervous group of familiar witches scurried past him without a second glance. Gods, he was a brilliant mastermind. They were walking about, unescorted, almost as though they were sent by Merlin himself to tempt him and tempt him they did.
He dutifully followed them to the tube, humming a jaunty tune beneath his breath. 'It was like Christmas,' he cackled quietly, his finger lovingly caressing the trigger in his pocket. He was giddy with excitement and closed his eyes for a second, revelling in the moment.
Malfoy would never recover from the loss of his wife. Potter was already useless, but the loss of his wife after they had reconciled was fucking delicious. Weasley wouldn't fare much better, even if he was only dating Parkinson, he had first-hand knowledge of her prowess. It would be devastating to live without her plump lips wrapped around his cock, or any cock for that matter.
He casually depressed the trigger, mirth bubbling in his chest. His entire body tingled, nearly reminiscent of a particularly satisfying orgasm. He wished he could see the aftermath, but there was much left to do. He hurried through the crowd of jostling Muggles, absolutely certain he heard Parkinson screaming. Ah yes, it was a beautiful fucking day.
Lavender Potter clung to Hermione's side, her breaths short and fast while she stared at the throng of Muggles. She was scared, obviously, but Hermione sincerely wished the witch would relinquish her unyielding grip. Their outings were supposed to be therapeutic and lighthearted but lately, it had become a bloody chore.
She didn't mind Pansy's incessant chatter about filthy Muggles. She didn't mind Daphne's obvious discomfort as she was jostled by passersby. Astoria was delightfully silent since snagging Neville and Hermione couldn't have been happier. It was Lavender that drove her absolutely mad, not that she'd speak a word of it.
"You're hurting her."
Daphne tugged Hermione's arm free from Lavender's trembling hand with narrowed eyes and minimal patience. While she was grateful for Daphne's intervention, the influx of tears was completely unexpected. They were unwelcome as well, but Hermione wasn't about to express such sentiments.
"Why don't you girls go on ahead?" She pointed toward the staircase and slowed her steps.
The moment Pansy's exclamations faded, Lavender turned to Hermione with a grateful smile. She wrung her hands nervously and leant against the dirty wall beside her. Her lips parted numerous times until finally, Hermione sighed heavily in frustration.
"I-I'm sorry," Lavender whispered. "I know you dislike discussing my relationship with Harry and I don't blame you for it. It's just, I haven't got anyone else. Ordinarily, I'd owl Parvati but she's off with Padma on some travelling expedition."
"Yes, yes, I'm not your first choice for a confidant. I understand, get on with it then." Hermione tossed her hands in the air, obviously irritated.
"I saw you at St Mungo's." Lavender crossed her arms and watched Hermione's face pale. "You were in quite the hurry. I know you haven't told him yet and well, I just wanted you to know that I understand."
She flinched away from Hermione's vicious sneer and gulped. Hermione invaded her personal space and poked the blonde's chest with her forefinger and fire blazing in her eyes.
"I'm not doing this with you, not again." Hermione inhaled slowly and nearly wretched as the various scents violated her senses. "Gods, I'm sorry, that was…unkind."
"I deserved it. I've apologised profusely but apologies are only words until actions prove otherwise." Lavender shrugged and attempted to conceal her pain. "I've been careful this go round. I suspected and waited. It was bloody torture. I've been to St Mungo's twice now and I've seen you each time, Hermione."
Hermione blushed and avoided eye contact. She refused to discuss it further. It was their Muggle Outing Day and Lavender was ruining it. It was therapeutic for the small group of witches to wander about together and despite the complaints, it was always a lovely time.
"I wanted to be sure; there's nothing wrong with that. I can't discuss this with you, not when I haven't—"
The ground beneath their feet rumbled, knocking them sideways as screams of terror filled the air. Hermione clutched Lavender against her chest and pressed them against the wall, her eyes fervently searching for the other girls.
"What's happening?"
"Where's Granger?"
"Don't draw your wand!"
"Do you want to die? Protego!"
Hermione glimpsed Daphne and Pansy arguing and for once she was thankful that Pansy Parkinson was her usual argumentative self as the Shield Charm encased the girls. The influx of panicking Muggles made it impossible for her to withdraw her wand and she hoped against hope the wreckage wouldn't tumble down upon their heads. She stumbled, falling to her knees as she was jostled but she managed to keep hold of Lavender.
The tube screeched into the station, plumbs of smoke escaping the creaking doors and Hermione's world tilted on its axis as the ground shook violently. She cradled Lavender's head against her breasts as they fell to the side and whimpered when her back was struck with falling debris.
"Wand, where's your wand?" Hermione croaked as she choked on the dust and smoke.
"Can't reach it," Lavender sniffled, her voice trembling.
"Close your eyes."
Hermione hadn't anything else to offer the terrified witch. Their predicament was dangerous and that was putting it lightly. She couldn't see anything beyond Lavender's golden blonde curls but the acrid air burned her lungs with every inhale. If death was to be their end, she didn't wish to see it befall them.
She heard the screams and prayed the girls were safer than she and Lavender. She clutched Lavender desperately as the air was filled with earsplitting wailing, an utterly horrific explosion, and billowing plumes of black smoke. Her fingertips managed to sink into the waistband of Lavender's skirt and she skimmed the smooth wood of a wand.
"Please, please, please," she muttered. "Gotcha," she gasped the moment she closed her hand around Lavender's wand. "Protego."
The screams were nearly her undoing. It was a menagerie of voices, young, old, man, woman, the terror encompassed all of them. She was thankful she wasn't injured, though they were trapped. Bits of rubble poked and prodded her back but she wasn't bleeding or incapacitated.
"I can't feel my legs," Lavender whimpered against Hermione's breasts, tears spilling from her eyes.
"I can't feel mine either; I think they're just constricted. We'll be alright. They'll come for us."
"What if they don't? What if they don't know we're here? I'm scared."
Hermione remained silent. She hadn't any words of comfort to offer and she didn't wish to add to Lavender's fears when she had plenty of her own. Their pocket of safety was dark as pitch and quickly filling with smoke. It was difficult to breathe and moving was utterly impossible.
"I should have told him," Hermione sobbed sloppily into Lavender's hair.
"Me too. I should have told him. I should have dragged him to St Mungo's with me. We've come so far and now I might never have the chance— "
"Stop it. They'll find us. They'll come for us. Malfoy will, I feel it." Hermione would have awkwardly patted Lavender's back if her arms weren't trapped.
"I hope the girls are alright. I can't pretend I care much for Astoria but Pansy and Daphne aren't as horrid as I once believed." Lavender groaned and it sounded painful, which didn't bode well for their situation.
"Pansy Cast the Shield Charm before everything crumpled on our heads."
Hermione's eyes drifted shut. It was easier to pretend she wasn't trapped beneath the ground if her eyes were closed, not that she could see anything with them open anyway. She hated small places, always had. She supposed it was Fate's wry sense of humour that left her trapped in a tiny space with Lavender Potter. She probably would have laughed if she could have drawn enough breath.
"I have to pee."
"Please don't pee on me," Hermione begged.
They fell into silence, despite the cacophony that surrounded them. Somehow, it seemed less, muffled almost, and Hermione hoped it was her imagination rather than waning senses. She struggled to keep her eyelids from falling shut and eventually segued into a dreamlike state.
She didn't hear the pops of Apparition. She didn't hear the orders barked by angry wizards. She didn't hear much of anything, though she was vaguely aware that the multitude of screams had muffled significantly. Her subconscious clung to hope even as the wreckage pressed against her.
"Granger!"
Lavender grunted, her nose running, and her bladder uncomfortably full. She attempted to turn her head, which in turn caused Hermione to hiss painfully. The Shield Charm kept them alive but they couldn't pretend it kept them comfortable.
"Stop moving."
"Someone called your name, you bossy bitch."
"Call me a bitch again and I swear I'll pee on you."
They probably would have scuffled if they could have moved. Instead, they settled for micro-movements and grunts of discontent. Their fingers flexed, which was something, but it wasn't nearly enough to express their irritation with each other as well as the horrific conditions.
"Granger!"
"Stop shouting, Malfoy. You're not helping."
Hermione gasped and choked on the acrid air, unable to respond to her husband's desperate call. She exhaled forcefully which provided her with a modicum of space between her breasts and Lavender's head. Of course, small bits of debris were dislodged and rained upon their heads, scraping her cheek in the process.
Dust clogged her nostrils and in Hermione's haste to draw breath, tiny shards of broken rock were lodged in her throat. She felt her airway constricting and her eyes widened in the darkness. She heard people, wizards even, hurriedly sifting through the rubble and hoped they'd find her before it was too late.
Lavender slumped against her, still and silent. She sniffled, gagging and spitting but it was no use. She couldn't breathe. Her cramped hand spasmed and dropped Lavender's now broken wand at the same moment Lavender's bladder gave up its fight. Hermione probably would have cried if she had enough air; instead, her lungs burned and her lips parted in a tortured silent scream.
"Potter, I think, well uh, there's a woman just there…"
"No, you're wrong. It can't be…I would know, I mean, she's my wife."
"She's got Granger's scarf clenched in her fist."
Draco Malfoy fell to his knees and it was Harry Potter that kept him from pitching forward. The pain was damn near overwhelming but he still was unable to feel the loss of her. He felt as though he should, but what the fuck did he know when everything he'd been told thus far had been a lie?
"S-she could be alright, Malfoy." Potter's voice trembled and it took everything Draco had to keep from tearing the bloke's head straight off.
"Check the woman and fuck off, Potter."
It was impossible to smell anything beyond the wreckage. His nostrils were filled with the heavy scent of smoke, twisted metal, and blood. It wasn't her blood; at least he didn't believe it was, but he couldn't be sure of anything. He couldn't focus. He couldn't think. He could barely fucking breathe and Potter wasn't helping matters.
When Draco finally lifted his head, he swallowed hard, overcome with emotion. He blinked away the tears he didn't want leaking from his fucking eyes and hissed angrily. He felt his fangs prick his bottom lip and knew his eyes were a violent shade of darkness and he didn't care.
"I feel guilty," Potter whispered as he clutched the dead woman to his chest.
"I don't care. Is it your wife or isn't it?"
"I know this woman in my arms. I cared about her at one time," Potter sniffed and wiped his stupid green eyes.
"I will kill you," Draco snarled as the tremors rocked through his body. The change was coming; he could feel it simmering beneath the surface.
"S-she isn't Lavender and I'm relieved. I'm fucking relieved. I'm holding Luna Lovegood's dead body in my arms and I'm not wondering why she was here or what happened. I'm thankful she isn't Lavender. I fucking love my wife, Malfoy." Potter gently laid the serene deceased woman on the battered ground and backed slowly away from Draco, lips parted, red-rimmed eyes wide.
Draco's talons tore his trousers as he unfolded his body in order to stand. He cracked his neck and felt the heat in the palm of his hands, while his breaths escaped in great puffs. His chest rumbled, teeth gnashed, and the growl that escaped startled the Aurors desperately levitating bits of wreckage. He inhaled, nose twitching, hope brewing in his soul.
"GRANGER!"