Hello lovelies! I just wanted to say thank you for reading and enjoying this story so far. I want to update more frequently, but I sometimes find myself in the craziest blocks... Anyway, I will try to get better with it! This is one of the longer chapters of this story so far, so I hope you enjoy :) Thank you so much again for all the love and for your thoughts!

Disclaimer: TW for this chapter for attempted suicide (nothing too graphic, just mentioned), & it is at the end of the chapter.

Shell Cottage – 1998

It had been several days since the Skirmish at Malfoy Manor and Hermione was still unconscious. Bill Weasley had summoned a healer friend to assess everyone's wounds and run diagnostics on Hermione. He'd said she was physically fine, but they would only know her mental damage (if there was any) once she woke. It had been days, and everyone was on edge. The healer said it could take days, even weeks before she regained consciousness, and Draco thought he was going to lose his mind.

The first night there had been the hardest for him. He wondered what was happening at Malfoy manor, and it dawned on him that he'd chosen Hermione over his own blood relatives. So much for blood purity and pureblood supremacy—not that he'd ever really believed in it, but it was still ironic.

"She won't wake up just because you never leave her bedside you know," Luna Lovegood teased, sitting on the opposite side of Hermione.

"Aren't you people the ones always going on about the power of love and all that?" he countered, not in the mood to deal with her antics.

She smiled softly, and Draco slightly eased up. Truthfully, the Ravenclaw was one of the most tolerable people he had ever lived with—including his family. Ever since Slughorn's Christmas party, he'd respected the girl immensely. Sometimes, the random things she spoke of were quite interesting. At least, the absurdity distracted him for a little while.

"Unfortunately, I don't think love is a remedy for the cruciatus curse," she said, her tone less dreamy than usual.

"Unfortunately, I think you're right," Draco replied lamely, wishing that love truly could conquer all.

"I've been meaning to ask you about—well, about you and Hermione," Luna prodded, "you don't have to tell me, but she must be very important for you to have forsaken your entire family in order to save her."

Draco sighed. Damned Ravenclaw, even the looney ones were wiser than most. Although, he thought, it must be somewhat obvious that Hermione was important to him, especially to the inhabitants of the cottage. Truthfully, he'd known for some time that if it ever came down to her or his family, he would choose her.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, uncharacteristically open. Draco knew he could trust Luna, and for some reason he felt like he needed to talk to someone—someone who knew Hermione well. Potter and Weasley were absolutely out of the question, and the She-Weasel was still at Hogwarts, so that only left Lovegood really…

It was a while before she answered him. When Draco looked at her, he found that she seemed extremely pensive, as if wanting to ask the right question.

"Are you together?" she finally asked, and the boy nearly rolled his eyes. She'd taken forever to consider her question, left him almost anxious in wait and decided upon the most basic question ever. How…Luna Lovegood of her.

He hesitated for a moment, "Yes."

"And how long have you been together?" she smiled.

Draco thought about it, and memories of their first kiss flooded his mind. It had felt like a lifetime ago, and his heart ached for the simpler times. They'd kissed for the first time during their sixth year Slugclub Christmas party, but they'd only become official on his birthday.

She'd sent him an owl, telling him to meet her at a remote inn, somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. Hermione had surprised him with a homecooked dinner that same night—and an apple cinnamon pie for dessert. They'd fallen asleep together that evening, and he'd asked her to officially be his girlfriend the morning after. It had probably been the best night of his life.

"Almost a year," his voice cracked, "but I've had feelings for her much longer than I care to admit."

"Do you love her?" Luna asked softly.

"Yes," the boy said without hesitation.

"Does she know?"

"I've never told her," his eyes burned, "and I'm scared I'll never get the chance to."

Luna got up from her chair then, and slowly walked over to where he sat. The Ravenclaw placed a hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed as she said, "you will get the chance, and even if you don't say it—she'll know. She's alive because of you, and your bravery."

"Bravery?" he scoffed, but not before tears began rolling down his cheek.

"Yes," she nodded, "you saved everyone."

"She still got crucio'd by my aunt," Draco choked, his voice finally breaking.

"She would have gotten much worse, had you not intervened," Luna argued.

He ignored this and took Hermione's hand in his. Just feeling her skin was enough to calm him, and despite Luna's attempts at reassuring him, the only reprieve Draco felt from his guilt was when he could feel Hermione's pulse at her wrist.

He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, focusing solely on the girl's pulse. "I was so scared."

"So was I," Luna sighed, "but we're alive, and that is the only thing that matters moving forward."

Alive. Yes, alive. Barely alive, but alive, nonetheless.

Present Day

Hermione being alive and 'well' still felt surreal for Draco. Yes, he was beyond relieved that she had not died, but he'd still spent the better half of nearly a decade thinking she had. The insurmountable grief and pain he'd endured for years had taken so much from him and now… well now, he supposed all that was left was anger.

After listening to Hermione's version of events and holding her—the real her—in his arms, he was left feeling more broken than before he'd even arrived in Australia. Knowing how much time he'd lost with her, coupled with the fact that he would have left England in a heartbeat if he'd known of her arrangement, was doing funny things to his psyche. Why would Kingsley keep her in Australia for so many years? It was more than safe to return home… it had been for years.

"Granger," he said, finally breaking the silence between them and removing himself from their embrace.

"Yes?" Hermione looked at him with curious eyes.

"I just don't understand why you're still here," Draco stood, "the Death Eater threat has been eradicated for years now."

She stilled.

"Kingsley surely must have told yo—" he tried to continue.

"Kingsley tells me everything," Hermione said defensively, "he would have told me if it was safe to return home."

Draco nearly laughed. It wasn't funny, but he had to laugh at the stupidity of it all. The girl he loved had not only been told to fake her death without telling a soul but had potentially done it under false pretenses.

"When was the last time you spoke to Kingsley?" he asked coldly.

"He visited last week," she stood up and faced him head on, "and he told me nothing had changed."

"Oh, he visits does he?" Draco asked, angrily this time. How could she be so foolish? She must have kept some tabs on the situation at home.

"Yes, often enough that if something were to change, I would surely know—"

"You know nothing!" Draco seethed, "how could you have trusted him so blindly?"

Fire danced across her amber eyes then, and Draco couldn't help but feel at ease in some way. It softened him a bit, knowing that she was still the same witch he'd loved for so many years. The most familiar thing about Hermione Granger to him was her temper, this side of her that she'd shown him years before they'd even been together. He stifled a smirk.

"He saved me that day!" she snapped, inching closer to him, "how could I not trust him?"

"He may have saved you in the moment," Draco practically sneered, "but trust me Granger, he did you no favor by keeping you here all these years."

"You don't know everything Draco," Hermione nearly shouted.

"I know you were naïve enough to believe every word that came out of a politicians' mouth!"

They were face to face now, inches apart. Draco hadn't even thought of the last time they'd kissed or slept together…until now. With her breath mingling with his own, the man had forgotten how arousing Hermione Granger was when she was mad at him. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing, standing in front of him, her chest rising and falling with every breath…

"You don't know what you're say—" she tried, but it didn't matter.

Draco didn't care about this argument anymore; they would surely carry on later. He needed her, about as badly as he needed to breath. He snapped.

In an instant, his lips had crashed into hers and his world nearly fell apart once more. As if on instinct, she was kissing him back with equal fervor. She tasted of mint and salt, probably from her earlier tears, and Draco couldn't get enough. Nothing and no one could make him feel in his entire life what she could make him feel with just one kiss. It was like coming home again and again and again.

She opened her mouth for him and the feeling of their tongues moving with their lips was sending warm sensations all over his body. Cloud 9, was it? She moaned as he moved his lips to her neck and began kissing down to her collarbone. He hardened instantly at the sound. Draco had tried to remember that exact sound every time he'd touched himself, but it always fell short. Merlin help him now.

Hermione moaned again as he kissed the spot behind her ear. She laced her fingers through his blonde hair, and he immediately ground himself against her in response. "Fuck, I missed this," he breathed as he lifted her onto the conference table.

"I missed thi—" she said breathlessly before a knock interrupted her. They stopped but didn't move at all.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar male voice sounded, "Beatrice?"

It took Draco a second to remember that he was currently wrapped around 'Beatrice' before she replied, "Yes?"

"Could I come in?" the voice asked, and Draco thought he might Avada whoever it was.

Hermione gave him a pleading look, and Draco merely stepped aside.

Before opening the door, she recast her glamour and Draco had to hide his disappointment at the sight.

"Jack," she smiled, and Draco looked like he was going to strangle the man, "what can I do for you?"

The Australian walked into the room and his eyes went straight to Draco. He was not as tall as the blonde, but he was definitely more muscular. A hulk of a guy, truly.

"Oh, where are my manners? Jack this is Draco Malfoy of the British Ministry," she smiled nervously this time, "Draco this is Jack Collins, a colleague of mine from the DIMC here in Sydney."

"Nice to meet you Draco," Jack offered his hand, and Draco looked hesitant before obliging.

"Nice to meet you as well Mr. Collins," he said coldly as he shook the man's hand. They weren't going to be on a first-name basis. She knew Draco would play nice, but not that nice.

Collins simply smirked before directing his gaze back to Beatrice. "I didn't know any delegates had arrived, otherwise I would have gotten here sooner."

"Oh, I have no idea if anyone else has arrived, Turner introduced us a short while ago," she said nervously.

"Very well," he smiled, "would you like me to accompany you upstairs?"

She didn't dare look at Draco then. If he was anything like he used to be, Collins was certainly on the receiving end of a glare. Hermione could have sworn her colleague's expression had faltered, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care all that much. Sure, he was a friend and a nice colleague however these incessant attempts to gain her affections was becoming beyond irritating.

"No that's fine Jack," she offered, "I'll see you later."

He nodded at her dismissal, but not before she noticed the disappointment in his expression. Once again, she couldn't bring herself to care but a small part of her hoped he wasn't too gutted.

Once the thick wooden door clicked shut, Hermione turned and found she'd been correct in her earlier assumption. If looks could kill…

"Sorry about that," she sighed.

"Can you de-glamour yourself now?" was all Draco said in response. He was too annoyed by the interruption, as well as the person who'd been the cause. It wouldn't do well to have to talk to her while she was in her 'Beatrice form'.

She did as he asked, returning once more to her natural self. Wild brown curls flowed from her head, followed by her tanned skin being corrected by her creamy complexion. Finally, green eyes turned to deep, gold-flecked brown eyes and Draco felt slightly more at ease again.

He didn't say anything, neither did she. He couldn't help but drink in the sight of her, it was still a shock. He'd kept photos of her, and replayed memories in his mind but nothing did her justice. Draco had always thought her beautiful, but apparently her beauty had no bounds. The witch still looked like herself, but it seemed over the years she had really blossomed into a woman. Draco was stirring with desire, but he had to know.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?"

"What do you mean?" she said, her eyes never leaving his.

He had to stifle a smirk. Some things never changed, including her being terrible at playing dumb. If he hadn't been so annoyed, he would have thought it cute. He still thought it was cute, but he wouldn't tell her that right now.

"That Collins fancies you," he said lower than intended.

"Yes," she said with an eyeroll, "and?"

Minx. Absolute minx. He nearly smirked once again at her dismissive tone. She knew how he was and yet…

"And… I didn't like how he was looking at you," he replied "has anything ever—"

"I have never been with anyone else," she cut in, and a look of sadness quickly started to mark her features, "I can't say the same for you."

"What are—" he started before realizing, "you mean Astoria?"

She nodded slowly, having broken their eye-contact for the first time since her colleague had entered the room.

Fuck. Draco hadn't realized that she'd most likely kept tabs on everyone back home. She must have seen all of the prophet articles about his and Astoria's union—if the look on her face was any indication. He took a step towards her, but she backed away.

"That wasn't real," he said hoarsely, "it was for my parents when I thought you were d—"

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Once," he cringed at the memory, "a week after the third anniversary of your death… I was so fucking drunk Hermione." Astoria had been equally as drunk. They'd gotten together out of sheer loneliness and reckless drinking.

"Right," she said quietly but her voice cracked.

"We're not together anymore," he immediately said.

A curious look came over her.

"She said," he breathed, "she said she couldn't stay with me, because I would never love her. Never truly. Never… how I love you."

"Wait, what?"

"It wasn't that long ago," Draco looked down, unable to meet her eyes.

For some reason, he felt ashamed. He knew it was irrational, seeing as he'd spent years thinking the love of his life had died. He was young, people had expected him to move on eventually—especially his parents. He'd gotten with Astoria because he'd thought her expectations for love and companionship were low, considering most pureblood marriages were forged through betrothals and strategic matches. Love, in nearly all pureblood circles, was a rare gift. He'd never expected her to want him or want him to feel something in return.

"Let me get this straight," she said firmly, "Astoria Greengrass left you because you still loved me?"

He looked up, noticing that Hermione now appeared to be upset. What in the?

"More so because she resigned herself to the fact that I'd never love her," Draco offered lamely, "but yes, she couldn't deal with my feelings."

Her eyes burned now, and Draco became worried. "I can't believe she would leave a grieving man who still loved his—his former girlfriend!"

Draco stifled a grin. That's why she was mad? Because she thought Astoria was in the wrong? Bloody hell.

"I wasn't so easy to deal with. Losing you… I nearly didn't make it. I wanted—I wanted to die too."

Her expression faltered. "What are you—did you try to—"

The girl looked like she was going to fall apart. "Draco," she sobbed, "please don't tell me you tried to…"

His own eyes burned this time. He hadn't told many people and having this conversation with her… it was somehow one of the most devastating ones they'd had all day.

"I was so…lonely. Your friends were all devastated, but they had each other. All I ever had was you and—I couldn't do it anymore," he said shakily, "I couldn't fathom living in a world that you weren't a part of."

"Oh my," she cried, and quickly threw her arms around him. It only made him cry harder. "Please don't ever—I would have never—" she tried, but her sobs were too overpowering.

He didn't know how long they stood there holding each other once again. All he knew was how broken he'd been after the fact, and how grateful he was for this second chance. And it would be a second chance. Draco promised himself then that if they could get through this, they could get through anything. He would never lose her again, not until they were old and barely remembered each other's names.

She must have felt similarly, as she softly said, "you will never be alone again."