Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the mastermind

1997 – March 21

Darkness.

It was all around her, all she could see, all she could feel. It spread from the pitch black that surrounded her to the very depths of her soul. There was no light, no sound, no sign that anything else existed where she was. Hermione lifted a hand in front of her face and couldn't even make out the faintest outline of the limb.

She was standing; that she could tell. Hermione couldn't make out what she was standing on, only that she was, in fact, on her feet.

She felt sick with fear. It was happening again. Her mind was being infiltrated with horrors; horrors that she could not control.

She was alone again.

There was a deep, black hole of loneliness that made her stomach twist. Where was Draco? He was never there, never there when she was terrified the most. Never there when Voldemort appeared. No one was ever there. Not alive anyway.

The unknown world spun. A strange dizziness fogged her mind as though she were drugged or poisoned. She closed her eyes but all she saw was more darkness that never faded, never changed. The spinning got faster and faster until Hermione thought she might collapse. What was happening? Why was this happening?

As suddenly as it began, the spinning stopped and she could see some sort of light in the distance. It wasn't a light necessarily but a dull shape, blurry around the edges and difficult to make out. Slowly, it came into focus.

The cabin.

Though she welcomed the sight, the cabin was an eerie one to say the least. She was supposed to go to it, Hermione knew. She felt the strange, almost magnetic pull towards the place. It was as if she couldn't even draw her eyes away, they were held firmly in place. She lifted a foot and began the slow journey towards the cabin.

It was a strange sight. The cabin sat alone, no trees surrounding it, no ground supporting it; it sat on whatever it was Hermione was walking on. She couldn't quite tell what it was, but it was not the ground. But that didn't really matter.

The cabin was lighted, as if by a spotlight above it, but no such light existed. It was simply there, and she was simply here, moving towards there. It was almost as if she were being controlled. She couldn't slow down her movements, nor speed them up.

A loud shriek filled her ears and flooded her heart with terror.

Draco.

The cry was his. Hermione wanted to run, wanted to reach him, for she knew what was coming, what always came; death. She couldn't speed up, couldn't run, couldn't sprint, couldn't shout that she was there, that she was coming. The slow walk continued as Draco screamed in agony again.

She needed to stop this! She needed to reach him in time! But she couldn't and she knew she wouldn't.

The world was silent as she finally reached the door. It creaked open without Hermione even touching the knob. Tears came to her eyes and her heartbeat ran at an unthinkable pace as she stepped inside.

Blood.

It spattered everything. Coating the world in red. Hermione searched for the source, seeing nothing but the terrible crimson that at least speckled each and every surface.

She felt it again, the eyes trained on her. Hermione slowly turned her head to look behind her, movements deliberate, controlled, as though she could only move how he wanted he to.

Voldemort was behind her, staring at her through a disgusted expression on his vile face. She wanted to speak, to scream, to yell what a monster he was, that he had killed Draco, but her terror shunted every breath.

Without a word, Voldemort stepped aside to reveal the sickening sight. A body, covered in blood lay crumpled on the floor.

Hermione couldn't breathe, air refused to enter her lungs. What she saw were her own unseeing eyes staring up at her with Draco crying at her side.

Hermione woke and immediately found herself being pulled into Draco's embrace and cried against his chest. The terrifying image of her own mutilated body still flashed through her mind. Voldemort was relentless in is invasions. She hadn't had even one night of rest, one night without waking up terrified.

Draco held her tightly as she sobbed, stroking her back, whispering to her promises that she knew he couldn't keep. Everything was not alright, it was not going to be alright. Any day now, they could be found. Any day, they could be surrounded by Death Eaters eager to hear them scream, to watch them die. She didn't know how much longer she could go on like this and each day brought with it a decline in the amount of hope she could muster up. She was so tired, so scared, so paranoid, and it made her think; would dying really be such a horrible fate? Hermione chided herself for even considering the possibility that death could be a mercy.

It did help somewhat, having Draco there when she woke from the nightmares. She wasn't alone, she knew that someone was there to protect her, even if she couldn't' feel it in her sleep.

"Someone will be here soon," he assured her, continuing to rub one hand across her back. "Dumbledore said the end of this war was close. It will only be a bit longer."

Hermione wasn't quite as confident, and she didn't really think even he believed the words he was saying. It had been a week since they had received the owl from Dumbledore. A week since he had promised the end, promised the protection of the Order. Something must have happened and Hermione hated the explanations her mind came up with. Were Harry and Ron alright? What about the others in the Order? What had happened to prevent them from coming?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to stop the flood of tears. She had to stay positive. Was there a good side to any of this? At first thought, the answer was no, definitely not. There couldn't possibly be any way to look at weeks of nightly terrors, a dark wizard forcing his way into her mind, no sleep, and the very real possibility of a horrible death, in a positive way. Searching deeper for any sort of light, Hermione thought of the man holding her tightly at that very moment. He had been constantly by her side, not leaving her alone for more than a few minutes at a time. As soon as he would leave, the flood of loneliness and feelings of hopelessness seeped back. So he stayed.

During that week, Hermione had gotten to see how sweet Draco Malfoy could be. He was such a comfort when she felt this overwhelming lack of control. She knew it must be difficult for him as well, simply waiting for something to happen and not being able to do anything.

Hermione didn't want to face the world, face the day of nothing but fear. So she stayed, curled up against Draco's chest. The tears had ceased, but she continued to breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of him that seemed so calming. She focused on the sensations of the warmth of his body seeping into hers and the tight squeeze of his embrace emitting a feeling of protection, a feeling of safety.

She wished they could stay like that forever; together, safe, coaxing the nightmare into the past. But the nightmare wasn't in the past, and they couldn't live their life, or whatever life they had left, in that bed.

Hermione's stomach voiced its hunger, forcing them to face reality.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and found a dim light filtering through the window.

"It's nearly morning," she whispered.

"I'll make you some breakfast," Draco replied, letting his arms slip from around her.

Immediately, Hermione felt a chill sweep through her. She closed her eyes again took a few more steadying breaths, wrapping her own arms around her body. She always needed a bit of time to get used to surviving on her own again.

When she was ready, she got dressed into her day robes and went to the kitchen to find Draco.

Draco stood at the stove, making breakfast as he always had, but recently, even that simple action had been changing. With each day that past without hearing anything from Dumbledore took with it a bit of hope.

Dumbledore had promised protection, and it never came. He had promised the end of this war, and yet, it continued. The constant wondering if today was the the day they would be found, if that would be the last breakfast he would ever make, the last morning they woke up, it was becoming debilitating. Seeing the suffering Hermione was going through, holding her as she cried each time she woke from the nightmares sent by the Dark Lord, and not being able to do anything to stop it was making his blood boil with anger towards the world, towards the headmaster.

Hearing the chair slide against the floor, he was on immediate alert, whipping his head around, hand brushing against his wand, ready to pull it out if need be.

"It's only me."

Draco sighed. He was constantly on edge and not getting nearly as much sleep as he should, but when he looked at Hermione, none of that mattered. She seemed empty, defeated. She had lost that glimmer of hope that had always been present, that light of joy in her eyes. Draco would give anything to see her smile again.

The Dark Lord had taken that from her.

He scooped the eggs onto two plates and set them on the table, sitting down beside her, mind continuing to spin through possibilities.

If this was their last day, Hermione deserved to live it happy, she deserved to smile, she deserved so much more than the fate she had been dealt. If this was their last day, they needed to stop dwelling on what they couldn't change and focus on the present. They couldn't change the fact that the Dark Lord was getting into Hermione's head at night. They couldn't change the fact that, whether today, or maybe tomorrow, or who knew how long, the Dark Lord would find what he was searching for and come for them. The one thing they had control of was what they did with their life right then.

Draco didn't know where the thought had come from, but it alighted something within him. Each day did not have to be a torturous event, the Dark Lord didn't have to take their hope and joy and sanity like he had done with so many other victims.

No, he would not let that evil thing take this from them.

Instead of the anger that had been building inside of him for the past several days, the thought brought inspiration, a goal, a purpose. The start of the day that had seemed so impossibly evil and dreary had a purpose that involved making Hermione happy.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked at her.

"Taking back something the Dark Lord has stolen from us," he vaguely replied.

Hermione seemed confused "What are you talking about?"

Without responding, Draco stuffed the last bite of breakfast into his mouth and acted on the first thought that came to mind when he asked himself what had made her smile in the past.

That stereo thing. The thing that played music that he had right in the storage closet. She seemed to like it on their first date, maybe she would like it again.

He pushed his chair away from the table and rushed over to where it was kept.

"Where. . . where are you going?" he heard Hermione ask.

He hated to hear the hint of fear in her voice at his sudden disappearance, but was filled with giddy anticipation thinking about the possibilities of the day.

Grabbing the stereo, he hurried back to the kitchen to find Hermione standing, staring at the place he had gone.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Make it play," Draco told her, handing her the machine.

"Alright?" she replied questioningly.

Hermione pressed a few buttons, waved her wand over it, and set it on the counter.

Now what?

Draco stood there, frozen. Had he thought that just putting on some music would make her forget everything and suddenly be happy? What was he thinking? This was stupid. A stupid goal, a stupid thought. A bit of music wasn't going to fix anything.

What do people do with music?

Dance.

Dance? Would she even like that? What if she had some traumatic experience with dancing and would hate him forever if he asked. What if she just didn't want to dance with him. That was ridiculous. She had been sleeping in his arms for the past week; surely she wouldn't have a problem with dancing with him. But what if she just didn't like to dance? Sure, she danced at the Yule ball, but what if she had absolutely hated it and couldn't wait to get out of there?

What did you see that day?

Draco thought back. She was beautiful, stunning. And what had made her so stunning was the smile on her face. That smile. The gorgeous, earth shattering, life changing smile. The smile that he couldn't wait another second to see again.

He took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to ask her to dance, in the middle of the kitchen, with a little stereo playing? It was the most cliché thing he could have possibly thought up. But now the music was playing and he was just standing there as though she had hit him with petrificus totalus and she was staring at him like he was an idiot.

Before he could think it through any more, he asked.

"Would. . . Now, I know this might seem quite cliché . . . but would you dance with me?"

He had finally made out the words so difficult to say when he saw, just the smallest smile twitch at the corners of her mouth.

"You want to dance with me? What does this have to do with taking back what was stolen from us?" she asked, remembering their previous conversation.

"The Dark Lord has stolen the joy, the light, the enjoyment of the small things. We may not have much time left and there isn't a whole lot we can do about that. But this, this we have a choice in." He immediately regretted telling her. What if she thought it was silly and that they should be worrying and trying to find any possible solution to their predicament.

She sighed and was quiet, making Draco wonder if she was ever going to answer, making him feel more embarrassed each second that passed.

"It kind of seems like a ridiculous time, don't you think? Our worlds could end, maybe we're supposed be anxious about what comes next. It is first thing in the morning but it feels as though it is the middle of the night, we're teenagers stuck in the center of a war, and with everything that's going on, you want to do a little thing like dancing?" Draco held his breath. "You're right. It's been a long time now. I think we can assume that nobody is coming and that there is a good chance we won't be around much longer. We shouldn't spend what little time we do have wallowing in what's to come." She took a breath. "So yes. I will dance with you; even if the sun has just come up and we are both completely exhausted. Because, as much as I want to believe there is some point in worrying, I think that every moment we have spent dwelling on what he has put us through is another moment that he wins."

She didn't think he was an idiot, she thought he was right.

Still slightly unsure, Draco held his hand out for her to take and drew her close, wrapping one arm around her waist. She seemed hesitant at first as they swayed gently to the sound of the piano playing through the speakers in the background. But then she let a hand rest over his right shoulder and pulled herself closer.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Every day since the start of the nightmares, Hermione had been afraid. She had been afraid, exhausted, and obsessed over when they would be found. But now, the only thing that filled her thoughts was Draco, the building tempo of the music, and her feet somehow moving across the floor.

They were going to die.

They were going to die soon.

But they were going to die together.

There was no point in worrying any longer. They had these last moments to spend together, and Hermione was so grateful that Draco had the courage to voice his thoughts. He was right, and now, instead of being afraid, they were dancing across the kitchen floor.

She laughed as Draco twirled her. Coming back to face him, she smiled and rested her head against his shoulder.

Death could wait. Right now, they were dancing.

Later that night

It had been a wonderful day. Hermione hadn't smiled like that in such a long time. Draco had barely given her time to think – which may have been his point – between the dancing, the walk in the sun, the game of chess where they both performed horribly because of lack of sleep. But the day had been filled with laughing and a joy that had been sadly lost recently. It was back, and she wasn't about to let any Dark Lord take it from her again.

She took a deep breath, relaxing under the blanket against Draco's chest.

Nothing could ruin this day; not Voldemort, not . . .

"Someone's here," Draco alerted.

"What?" She sat up, forgetting the blanket that slid to the floor and stared at him.

"Someone tried to get through the wards. I felt it," he told her.

"Is it them? Can you tell how many? Is it the Order?" Hermione's mind was working overtime again, winding through every possible intruder.

"Slow down," Draco said. "I don't know."

He pushed himself off the sofa and headed towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm going to go check. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe someone just got lost." He didn't seem to believe his own words.

"I'm coming with you," she decided, grabbing her wand and moving to where he was standing.

"No. You're not. You are staying here. Where it's safe."

"Don't you tell me to stay here! I can fight if need be. I am good with a wand!" Hermione told him, getting frustrated.

"You may be good with a wand Hermione, but you are not in any condition to fight right now – "

"Then neither are you! It isn't as though you have been getting much more sleep than I have!" she interrupted.

"Well, one of us needs to go out there and see who it is. And that person is me!"

"Why couldn't it be me?"

"Because. . . please, just let me do this." Draco was genuinely pleading with her to let him risk his life. Why would he do that?

"If it is them, we'll both die rather quickly anyways, why can't we just die together if that is the case?" she asked quietly.

Draco sighed and rested a hand on her shoulder, sliding it to her wrist, taking her hand in his.

"Hermione. If we are caught together, it would be much worse for you. They'll do horrible things to you, simply to hurt me. Please. Stay here."

Hermione's heart was pounding. As much as she didn't want him to face whoever it was who was attempting to breach the wards alone, his eyes begged her to listen.

"Fine," she whispered. "Just . . . please be careful."

Draco nodded and his hand slipped from her fingers as he left the cabin.

This could not be happening. Not now. Hermione had thought that she had accepted their fate that day. She knew it was coming, but the possibility that it was already there shook her.

Trembling, she moved to the window, watching with anxious anticipation as Draco walked away from the cabin. She watched until his image was swallowed by the darkness of the forest.

Hermione stiffly sat back down on the sofa, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing both hands to her face.

What if that was the last time she saw him? The thought made her heart ache.

No. Draco was a good fighter, even if he hadn't been getting very much sleep. He knew the people who would be coming after them, knew their styles, knew their tells. He could get out of this. They both could.

She sighed in frustration. Who was she kidding? There was no way they would get out of this!

Hermione felt hot tears threaten to fall. It had been such an incredible day and she could hold onto that. She could hold onto the dancing and laughing. She let her mind drift away from the present and back to the horrible chess game. Each terrible move sent another round of giggles through the two of them. She couldn't remember seeing Draco ever laugh like that before; head thrown back, tears of laughter.

She found herself smiling at the memory. Smiling, in the face of death.

The door opened and she was immediately ripped from her thoughts. Her eyes went wide as she braced herself for what could be coming, adrenaline pouring through her system as her body prepared itself to fight.

Then she saw who had entered the cabin.

Draco. That would have relieved her if not for the cloaked figure by his side.

Draco rushed to her, but she couldn't take her eyes off the unidentified stranger. "Hermione, it's alright," he assured her. "He says he's here to help."

The stranger slowly reached his hands up and lifted the hood that covered most of his face.

"Professor?"

Author's note:

Knock, knock, hello? Is anyone there? I think I may be posting for only one person. *sniff sniff* Anyway, I guess it's just you bennettfan84. Thanks for sticking with me and reviewing and I do apologize for taking an extra week to get the chapter finished again. I did not have a whole lot of motivation, and ended up getting sick, had papers to finish, and kept checking back for reviews to find only yours. Made me kind of sad, but I really do appreciate you reviewing!

This next week is finals week so I may not get the next chapter done for Sunday. It is a really good one so I want to make it as well done as possible for you!

I hope this chapter was alright. I had a really difficult time with the dance scene, I hope it didn't seem too rushed or out of place, I felt like they had to have at least one more good day before craziness ensues (wink wink). So let me know what you think, or if there is any way I can improve it.

For anyone who happens to be reading this far, this week is going to be absolute hell so I would really love some reviews to keep my spirits up! Maybe for study break I can get in some writing! It is a nice way to get my mind off school for a few minutes.

Happy Easter and I hope you will have a much better week than I will be having!