A/N: Welcome everybody who joined us last chapter. You came at a great time!

A big thanks to aeireis for catching review #100! There are a handful of you who leave a review EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER, and I just wanted to say how much I love hearing from you guys. You make me excited to keep writing, so thank you!

Chapter Twelve: To Make a Promise

April 2001

Lestrange Mansion

The potion was just starting to wear off when Rodolphos was called away. Hermione was still fuzzy headed, so she wasn't sure why he left, only that he had stood up sharply from the dinner table, clutching his Dark Mark, and then kissed her gently on the head with promises to return quickly. It took nearly an hour for her to regain her mental capabilities, something that normally occurred after she had been escorted back to her cell. An hour after that, she could summon a book from a few feet away. It felt like moving the Hogwarts Express. She did her best to destroy the room.

Hermione slumped to the floor, breathing hard and shaking and staring at the bed, the luxe comforter pushed to one side. It was red and black. She had never noticed that before. She had felt the rough silk embroidery scratch her cheek, heard the sound of him moving across the shiny fabric, but had never truly seen the color. The potion she was fed before being escorted to this cursed room dulled more than just her magic.

A piece of shattered mirror winked at her from underneath the plush blanket. She used it to cut open her arm, slicing the word Mudblood cleanly in two.

"Luna Lovegood!" Hermione shrieked. "You stole that from George!"

The blonde woman looked entirely unrepentant. "Yes, I did."

Luna was sitting against a tree, rolling the Exploding Eggbomb from hand to hand across the grass. Sunday Dinner had evolved into a full blown wedding reception for Dean and Seamus, complete with dancing and singing and stolen sips of alcohol. Hermione was still reeling from her dance with Draco, her head spinning as if she too had taken a drink from George's flask. Her skin felt flushed and hot. Her knees were weak, which she had always assumed was a figure of speech, having never believed that something so ridiculous could be possible.

He had been a perfect gentleman during their dance, friendly and never making her feel uncomfortable. After the initial awkwardness had passed, Hermione had been a bit disappointed in the distance between them. The experienced twenty-five-year-old woman recognized the glint of lust in his eyes when they had bantered back and forth at the table. But the Hermione who had felt not the smallest flicker of sexual attraction in five years- the Hermione who doubted her ability to even act on such feelings- was confused by his abrupt departure after their dance. She had left the tent not long after Draco, looking for a bit of quiet in which to clear her head.

"That's . . ." Hermione sputtered. "Well that's bloody dangerous!"

Luna shrugged and stood up. "And?"

"And?" Hermione was incredulous. "And, you'll return it immediately!"

"I will not!" Luna spun around, suddenly angry. "I need it!"

"Why do you need it? Those bombs are not authorized for any missions, only the final battle."

"I know that!" She was pacing now, tugging on her braids. "I'm saving it for the final battle."

"Okay," Hermione lowered her voice, trying to soothe her friend. "Fine. Keep it. But please don't carry it around. I don't want you in pieces; I want you fighting."

"What difference does it make?" she spat out, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "You won't be there either way!"

"I won't be where?" Hermione was trying to follow Luna's thought process.

"You'll be flying above all of us, fighting a battle I can't fight," Luna's face had gone wild. Hermione could feel magic pouring off her in waves, making the hair on her arms stand up. "Fighting with them."

"I'm not abandoning you!" Hermione was astounded. Thinking back, she realized that Luna had been more reserved lately, more subdued. She felt awful for not noticing Luna's recent agitation. Luna was family. More than family. She and Luna shared a piece of their souls, the dark, slimy part that only the other could truly understand.

Luna clutched at her stomach as if in pain. "We've always fought together. Always. You and me."

"I know." Hermione stepped closer, only to have Luna spin and a pace away from her.

"You are my shield, and I am yours. We watch each other's backs and we always come back alive!" She was muttering alliterations under her breath.

"I want you beside me," Hermione tried to sound reassuring. "But I can't turn away from this to fight with you. This is too important."

"Too important? You mean more important."

"We can fight apart, or die together!" Hermione hissed. "You haven't seen the numbers. We're better trained, but we're outnumbered three to one." She was breathing hard. "And they have the Black Dragon. Remember the battle at Gansey? She killed twenty people with a single pass over the battlefield."

Luna had stopped pacing and drifted closer.

"We can't hide in the castle, we'd never withstand a siege. We can't fight in the open, because Bellatrix will slaughter us in a matter of minutes. But if we had a way to keep her off the field, and kill her without a single spell, we could let our soldiers do what they do best."

"It's not fair. You know I'm powerful enough to handle this ritual," Luna cried. "They're trying to keep you away from me!"

"Nobody could ever keep me away from you, Luna," Hermione stated bluntly. "I'm not sure how Blaise did his calculations -" That was a lie. Hermione had calculated her own Arthimantic probabilities and had come to the exact same conclusions, except her list was one name longer. She did, however, understand their reluctance to turn Luna into a fire-breathing monster. "But I know he's the best at what he does. I can't risk your life in pursuit of something so dangerous when I need you on the battlefield."

"I don't like it."

Hermione curled their fingers together in the way they always had. "I don't like it either."

After a moment she asked, "How did you know you weren't on the list?"

Luna looked at her pityingly. "I saw it yesterday. Zabini left it in the lab."

"You snuck into the castle to root around in the lab and you didn't stop to say hello?"

Luna ignored her and sat down against the tree again. Hermione sat beside her. They stared at the glow of the party through the trees. Hermione leaned into Luna playfully, a conversation she'd had earlier in the night coming to mind.

"Remember when we used to go drinking?"

Luna sighed. "What's to remember?"

"Remember that guy in Edinburgh?" Hermione was smiling hugely. "We were staking out the warehouse across the street from that Muggle pub?"

"Oh Merlin, that wanker."

Hermione deepened her voice. "Is it sunrise already?"

Luna snorted and they both spoke, ". . . Or is that just you lighting up my world?"

The sound of Luna's laugh was like a sweet balm on Hermione's chaotic thoughts.

"Every night for two weeks," Hermione chuckled. "I think he was a bit in love with you."

"He just wanted to get a leg over," Luna replied derisively, though she was still smiling.

After a moment of silence, Hermione spoke again. "When this is all over, we can go back."

"Go back?"

"To every pub, every Muggle dance club we went to before . . ." When Hermione craned her neck, she saw that Luna looked wistful. "I promise. We just have to get through the next couple weeks. Then we'll have all the time in the world."

"Okay." It was barely a whisper.

Both of their smiles faded quickly in the silence that followed They sat together while the sounds of Sunday Dinner faded and the tent was taken down. It was nearly dawn when they separated, Luna to her tree and Hermione to her room, neither of them satisfied with the outcome of their conversation.

Hermione could feel the sweat beading up on her neck. She had fastened a kerchief around her head to keep the perspiration out of her eyes. The glass stirring stick had been charmed to stir the potion three times clockwise, then five times counter clockwise, every five minutes. Hermione had taken over the stirring herself, appalled that Persia had felt it appropriate to leave the brew under a spell.

The Fangjuice Potion was a beautiful crystalline green. Persia had added the dragon's blood the day before and now it needed to simmer - with proper stirring intervals - for ninety-six hours and twenty-nine minutes.

"It will be ready in four days," she told Blaise and Theo. They had appeared some time after breakfast to check on the bubbling concoction, only to find Hermione already there. She had only left the Potions lab for a few hours at a time over the last three days, determined that the concoction should be perfect. Hermione had more responsibilities than the Purebloods, but none of them could move about as freely or make excuses and be forgiven. "Thank the gods Harry found this gold cauldron."

"I still can't believe he was unaware that he owned an item made of solid gold." Theo was leaning over her shoulder and looking dubiously at the liquid bubbling merrily away.

"I can," Hermione murmured, completing the last stir and reluctantly setting the stick to stir itself.

Draco walked in then, took a look at her face and hissed in disgust. "You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"There are no councils today," Hermione said, her face warming. Did she look that tired? "I'll take a nap after my work duties."

Hermione moved away from the table as Draco moved closer. His hair was still damp from his shower, and she was painfully aware that she hadn't yet bathed.

He eyed her skeptically then inspected the potion. "Four days?"

"Yes, that's right." If he made a single comment about the quality of her stirring, she would hex him. "I'm trying to get yours and Pansy's schedules cleared for a couple days after the potion matures so we can focus solely on the meditation, but I'm having trouble coming up with plausible excuses."

"You'll think of something." Draco sniffed at the cauldron, then wrinkled his nose.

"We still need a place to perform the ritual," Theo reminded her.

"I know." Hermione pulled the kerchief from her hair and used it to wipe the sweat from her face. "We can use the portkey to Albania," It was the same hilltop upon which Hermione had first witnessed Draco transform. "But I'm reluctant to disappear from Hogwarts entirely when we're this close to the battle."

"So think of something better," Blaise suggested.

"Very helpful, love," Theo chuckled.

"In the meantime," Hermione said, turning to Draco. He looked up from scrutinizing the cauldron fire with raised brows. "We have work to do."

His grey eyes turned apprehensive. Hermione was fully aware that her smile was bright with evil anticipation. Ten minutes later, it got better.

"Is this some kind of punishment?" he asked her, despondent.

Hermione fought a chuckle. "You voluntarily spent two nights trapped in a potion's lab with the Parkinsons," she said. "What could possibly be worse than that?"

"This," he stated, indicating the scene before him. "This is worse."

"We need to get the animals prepped to move," she reminded. "And nearly everyone is in the fields. You're complaining more than the children." At her words, Lily and Teddy came through the wide wooden gate. Teddy carried a stool and Lily followed him lugging a bucket nearly bigger than her.

"There is no way I would allow them anywhere near those beasts," Draco sniffed. "They look likely to chew a hand off."

"They're cows, Draco," she told him flatly. "They eat grass, not human flesh."

"I was talking about the children."

"I want to do it, Teddy," Lily was exclaiming. "I can do it myself."

"Okay Lils," the boy responded, rolling his eyes, which were grey again today. "But you have to be gentle. No yanking on Betsy."

Lily put the pail beneath the engorged udders and scooted herself onto the stool. She crooned to the cow gently when it twitched and shuffled as her fingers grasped a dangling bit of flesh.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Draco appeared genuinely concerned. It was hilarious.

"I'm a big girl, Draco," Lily chirped as she began gently pulling great streams of milk out of the udder. "I can do it by myself."

The bucket was rapidly filling and the cow lost interest, returning to the trough of alfalfa.

"Well done, child," he applauded, looking impressed. He crossed his arms. "It doesn't look that hard. Absolutely disgusting, but not difficult."

"Good, because that one's yours." Hermione pointed to the second cow placidly chewing away. He paled slightly. It was August, but it felt like Christmas to Hermione.

"You're enjoying this too much," he complained into her huge grin.

Hermione showed him how to properly roll the teat through his fingers to bring forth the milk. Half the bucket was filled when he waved her away impatiently. He approached the animal with his usual grace, only grimacing when he was seated before it. The cow didn't spare him a glance, even when he took a nipple in each hand. He started grumbling immediately.

". . . repulsive. . ."

". . . mud all over the place. . ."

". . . never drink milk again. . ."

He was doing it wrong. Hermione itched to show him the correct way, but a larger part of her was happy to stand back and let him fail. A few attempts and he was getting frustrated. He must have been taking his irritation out on the cow, because he yanked a bit too hard and it shifted in discomfort. It let out a groan and stepped away from him, kicking the bucket on its way out. Hot milk splashed all over his legs. He leapt back in disgust and ended up on his arse in the cold mud, milk spreading out underneath him. A startled, high-pitched exclamation left his mouth.

Hermione let out a hysterical whoop. The kids were grinning at him delightedly. The thick liquid made a pool around him and started to seep into his pants.

"Fuck," he stated.

Teddy's eyes got huge at the word. Lily giggled and started dancing around screaming, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The curse word coming out of the mouth of a toddler made her laughter come faster. It was deep and rolling and felt amazing. Malfoy was watching her from his seat in the mud. He let out a cough of amusement. The sound was rusty.

Lily looked about to jump in the mess as well, so Hermione grabbed her from behind. "Oh no you don't," she gasped. "Go find your mother."

"Come on Lily." Teddy took her little hand, eyeing the adults. "Let's go feed the chickens with your Mum and Gran."

Draco attempted to stand, but just as he gained his feet, his boot slipped in the mud and he went down again, this time on his front. Another wave of merriment attacked her, complete with a snort. He pushed his way back to a seated position and inspected the mess on his clothes.

"I hate you," he declared with a chortle. He was shaking with laughter a moment later. "I don't think I can get up," he gasped.

There were tears running down her face when Hermione stumbled over to him. She braced herself on his shoulder for a moment, trying to catch her breath. He was wheezing with mirth, trying to clear his muddy hands by shaking them. He was failing. Hermione could detect the faint odor of feces mixed in with the wet dirt. She straightened and offered him her hand. A light of devious intention appeared in his eyes the moment he gripped her outstretched hand.

"Don't even think about it!" She screeched a moment before he had her flat on her back. The mud was chilly and seeping into her sweater. "Oh, you shit!"

He was laughing in great, creaking guffaws, holding his ribs as if they hurt. She scrambled upright, her arms outstretched and covered in mud. It was in her hair, slithering down her neck. "Ungh."

She tried to scramble up, but was stopped when he took hold of her ankle. "Not so fast."

Draco tugged, sending her back down. She screeched. His laughter was cut short when she clawed clump of mud together and heaved it at his head. He ducked, but it still slapped against the side of his face. He gasped when it slid down his shirt. Hermione chortled. Growling, Draco crawled over the mud until he was looking down on her giggling face. He slapped a clump of muck against her neck then slid it down her front, grinding it into the knitted wool.

"That's not fair!" she gasped, striking his shoulder. "And this is my favorite jumper!"

He was laughing again, his eyes wide and sparkling. It was difficult for Hermione to catch her breath. Her gaze was ripped from his when the darkening sky let loose a flash of lightning. Thunder cracked overhead and the sky dumped a torrent of cold rain on them. Draco had her out of the mud in an instant and began tugging her toward the nearby feed shelter. They jogged over to it with their muddy hands clasped, slipping and sliding in the mud.

The roof provided a small overhang under which they could stay relatively dry. Or keep from getting any more wet. They ended up standing quite close together in order to keep under the bit of cover.

"It shouldn't last long," she opined.

He hummed in agreement, trying to brush some of the muck from his sleeves. It was summer, but they were in Scotland. With the sun smothered by heavy clouds, much of the warmth of the day disappeared. Hermione found herself unconsciously moving a bit closer, remembering how warm his body had been when it lay next to hers in bed. There was mud drying on his cheek, but there was color in his usually pale cheeks, and his lips remained curled upward in the corners.

She realized she was staring at those lips, her breath suddenly too large for her lungs. Like a magnet, his mouth drew her forward until she swayed into him, so close their breath mingled. Embarrassed, she blinked and drew back, but he followed, catching her upper lip between his in a brief touch. It was tiny, no more than a brushing of warm skin, but it felt like lightning. Her blood danced backwards in her veins. Her heart was loud in her ears. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Hermione closed the last bit of space between them.

His lips were warm and soft. A musical gasp left her mouth at the sensation. She felt the need to curl her fingers into his shirt, taking hold so she wouldn't slide to the ground. He groaned deep in his throat and swept his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like tea and mint and Draco, and ever so faintly of mud. She had never been so moved by such ordinary flavors, the underlying thread of Draco making them bright and necessary. As he kissed her, one of his hands came up to cup her face, his long fingers gently caressing the curls at her temple. His other hand was on her lower back, pressing their bodies together. Hermione was warm every place his body touched hers.

They broke apart to breathe. Draco pressed a swift kiss to her nose, his chest heaving. When Hermione looked up at him in a daze, she saw his eyes go from glassy and dark with passion to wide with panic. He broke away from her, leaving her cold. After a brief moment of indecision, he turned and stalked into the rain.

She should be angry that he had walked away from her again, yet she was incapable of feeling anything but cold hurt. Hermione followed him. The rain instantly soaked through her muddy clothes. He was pacing around, pushing a hand through his wet hair. It was a gesture she remembered vaguely from their time in school, when she had been watching him closely for signs of his allegiance to Voldemort. It was the most unhinged she had ever seen him.

"I'm sorry," he called out to her over the noise of the rain.

A ball of lead dropped into her belly. She did her best to keep the disappointment from her face. "Why are you apologizing? I kissed you."

He laughed a bit desperately. "That doesn't matter."

"Really?" It mattered quite a bit to Hermione. "Then why are you so upset?"

"Because I want you!" he burst out. "All the fucking time!" He was pacing again. "You're in my gods damned dreams! I can smell you every-fucking-where I go!"

Her heart soared at his words, even though not all of them made sense, and even though he was so obviously angry about his feelings.

"How can I possibly resist you when he's always there? Breathing down my neck and demanding I find you, protect you, fuck you?"

Hermione blinked at the vulgar language. "Someone is forcing you to have feelings for me?"

"First of all, I don't have feelings for you." He visibly shuddered. "Secondly, not someone. Him. The bloody beast that lives in the back of my head."

Her mind made a few leaps. "You have a dragon consciousness. Like werewolves."

"More like a parasite that's sucking away all of my free will."

"Fascinating!" She was instantly excited by this revelation, but then she realized what he had actually said. "So you didn't want to kiss me?"

Draco hesitated. "I don't know."

Hermione was getting angry. "Well, you didn't seem to be doing anything against your will."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I've never thought of you that way. Never. You're Hermione-Fucking-Granger."

It sounded like an insult. "What does that mean?"

"I do not snog Hermione-Fucking-Granger! And in the rain? How cliche!" He was obviously disgusted. "I do not have dreams about Hermione-Fucking-Granger naked in my bed."

"Stop saying my name like that!" Hermione was astounded. "You've had dreams about me?"

"They won't go away," he was almost talking to himself. "You won't go away. You're every fucking where I go."

"So sorry to burden you with my presence!"

He sneered at her. "You know, for someone so smart, you're being rather dense."

"No, I get it!" she seethed. "You don't want anything to do with me. Your animal instincts are driving to you touch me, even though you hate the idea and find me disgusting."

A web of magic vibrated across the palms of her hands. She clenched them into fists and forcibly checked herself.

He threw his hands up. "That's what you got out of what I just said? Are you not listening to me?"

"I think you've made yourself quite clear."

The rain had stopped, and they both stood soaked to the skin with their shoes sunk in the mud. Everything was bright with sunlight and water. Hermione squinted against the light, a headache throbbing behind her eyes. She silently willed him to take it back, to admit that he wanted her as she wanted him, that the time they had spent together over the last ten days meant something. Had it only been ten days? It felt like years.

"Don't you understand?" He yanked back the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the sinister mark on his forearm. "I am poisoned. I do not allow myself to think of you in that way."

"But you're on our side," she objected, appalled at the self-hatred in his voice. "You've been fighting with us for years."

"Too little, too late."

"I don't agree!"

Draco scoffed. "You and Potter and Weasley have been battling the darkness from day one. I wasn't even fully aware of what was going on until later." He laughed without humor. "And when it was my turn to make choices, I made every single one to benefit myself."

"You did the best you could." It was dizzying to follow him with her eyes. "You were just a child. We were all children."

"Don't fool yourself. I wanted it." he snarled. "I wanted the power, the prestige, I wanted to feel important."

"So what changed?"

He drifted closer. "I do have a conscience, Granger. My vanity took second place to the horrors I was witnessing. Then all of it rotted away." He stepped into her space. "But you saved us."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed.

"That last year at Hogwarts I hated you for doing what I couldn't. Then it was over and the weight of everything I had done was killing me slowly. And then you walked up to me with forgiveness in your hands. As if I was worthy of a second chance."

It was becoming difficult to breathe again. "So you fought against Bellatrix because I forgave you?"

"I wanted to deserve your forgiveness," he said bitterly.

"I think you've earned it by now." Hermione wasn't sure what to say. "Though I don't think it's necessary. It's war. We've all done horrible things. I have done horrible things."

"No," he shook his head, his grey eyes distant. "Not like me."

"What could you possibly have done?" It was a whisper. She was afraid of the answer, afraid of an act that had made Draco Malfoy risk his life for years in order to repent.

He took a step backwards, shoulders slumped in defeat. It felt like a chasm had opened between them. "I didn't stop him." He swallowed. "I knew what he was going to do. But I just couldn't bring myself to kill my own father."

"I don't understand, Draco."

"My father," he said hoarsely. "He brought Bellatrix back."

A/N: A kiss finally!

Poor, guilty Draco. Surprised? Saw it coming?