A/N: Sorry for the really long wait. I find myself very seriously lacking on time and imagination these days.

Chapter 12: The Only One

Wormtail sulkily watched Malfoy for the rest of the night. The stupid boy had stolen his entertainment and grinned at the other Death Eaters like it was some great joke. Something broke inside of him, unleashing a cold, relentless hatred of Draco Malfoy. Next time they met, the boy would not best him so easily.

Peter would have his revenge for this embarrassment.

Acting normal took all of his strength, and by the end of the night Draco was a taut bundle of nerves, ready to snap at the smallest bit of pressure. When a few house elves came and removed Granger's body a few hours later it was all he could do to not chase after them. But no—only a few hours more and then he would leave again, be away from all of this lunacy.

The Death Eaters seemed reassured by his cruel murder of Hermione. Any question they had of his loyalty was momentarily quelled by it. Draco was interested to find that he had even scored some sort of bonus points for his rejection of Pettigrew. Clearly the Dark Lord's pet was still not highly thought of.

It was a strain on Draco's patience to wait for most of the Death Eaters to clear out of the room and go to bed, but he forced himself to wait until there were only a few remaining before he took his leave. He gave an elegant yawn and said goodnight to his aunt and her company, but stopped halfway across the room to drag the toe of his boot through the puddle of blood on the floor. Draco forced a soft smirk onto his countenance and then left with a spring in his step.

Once the door was safely shut behind him, Draco dropped his careful façade and allowed worry to crease his brow. What if he'd done something wrong? Everything had been planned carefully, but if he'd made even a single mistake—he shuddered and left the thought unfinished. He made a beeline for his room and called a house elf to him immediately upon his arrival.

The elf came and bowed so deeply that his nose touched the floor. Draco tapped his foot impatiently—he was running out of time. "Where is the girl?"

"Pardon, sir?" the elf asked, flinching.

"The girl's body—the one who died tonight. Where is it?"

"The corpse is in the dungeon, my lord."

Draco made a face. "You just leave the bodies to rot in the dungeons?" That's disgusting, he thought.

"There are some, sir, who…enjoy the bodies even after death," the elf said calmly. Draco forced his features to remain calm and not betray his expression of distaste. "I can lead you to the corpse if you wish, sir. I think that no one has gone down there yet tonight." The elf bobbed another bow. "Sir."

"Take me there."

The elf nodded and indicated that Draco follow him. He was led through a series of twisting passages and corridors that at last gave way to the dank dungeons. "The body is behind this door, sir. To get out of here just continue down this passage, then take the first right and the exit will be the third door on your left. If you get lost, you should be able to call out for another house elf to assist you." The creature cracked the door open and charmed a vertical red line onto the door. "The line will make sure that no one bothers you, sir," it said and vanished with a sharp crack!

Draco glanced at his watch and realized he was trembling. Deep breath, Draco. You did everything carefully, there's no way that you made a mistake. Even so, the doorknob rattled in his grip as he pulled the door fully open. The dungeon room was dimly lit and Granger's body was laid out on a large slab of granite. No one had bothered to fix her clothing; everything was stained red with blood and her shirt still hung open. Her skin was pale and his breath caught. "No, please no." He shut the door carefully behind him and did a complicated locking charm on it.

Reality had a dream-like quality to it as Draco crossed the room and pushed aside Granger's cold arm to make room for him to sit. His fingers were shaking badly as he ran them through her unruly hair. "I'm sorry it had to be like this," he whispered gently. "I couldn't think of any other way. Please don't hate me for this. I don't think I could bear it. I don't—I don't know how I feel about you, but I know that having you hate me would be unbearable."

He smiled crookedly and drew his wand. Muttering a quick healing charm he ran the tip of it down the gash in her belly, and the wound knitted itself up to leave a narrow pink scar. Draco put his wand down on the granite and pulled a small vial of glistening black liquid from his jeans. He unstoppered the vial and poured half of it down Granger's parched throat, then put the rubber cork back in and pocketed it once again.

The next few minutes were agony as the antidote did its work. Granger lay on the table unmoving, and Draco couldn't find a pulse in her wrist. He checked his watch again—but no, he'd done everything right on schedule. Then her eyes fluttered open lazily, as if woken from a deep sleep.

Every muscle in Draco's body relaxed and he sank down onto the granite next to her. "Thank Merlin you're all right," he gasped. Granger blinked at him slowly, trying with difficulty to absorb and understand her surroundings. "I was so—" scared, he wanted to say, but he couldn't admit such a flaw, not to her. Heat flooded his eyes and he realized with a start that he was about to cry. Blinking furiously, Draco pressed his face into the granite as the tears dripped down.

Her hand fell heavily onto his shoulder and with effort Draco forced himself to look at her. Hermione's eyes calmly assessed his tear-streaked face and though she was baffled by current events, it was clear that she wanted to comfort him. He pushed himself into a sitting position and wiped his face angrily. How could he let her see him cry like that?

Granger's hand flopped onto the granite beside her and he thought he saw her flinch. She worked her mouth slowly, trying to regain control of her muscles and then she blinked rapidly. Draco could almost see her remembering everything, and then she looked up at him with a mixture of confusion, accusation, and hurt splayed on her features.

"I'm sorry—if there had been another way…well, I guess you want to know what happened first. The knife I had"—he pulled it from its sheath—"was coated with a type of quick-acting poison. I charmed the blade to make it look bigger but actually it's barely an inch long, so it didn't go deep enough to hit anything too vital. The Weasley twins helped with the preparations and gave me about a pint of chicken blood in a pill-sized container, so when I pulled the knife out of you I made sure to hit that as well and blood went everywhere. A long while ago Snape gave me a vial of strong poison antidote, for emergencies. Weasley and Potter and I researched poisons, to figure out what would work and how much time I would have to administer the antidote before you were really dead and—"

Draco stopped talking and just sat there breathing heavily, then he leaned down and gathered her roughly in his arms. "I was really worried that it wouldn't work."

"You stabbed me," she said faintly.

He crushed her against him, could feel the weakness in her body, the limpness of her limbs. "I had to."

"They were going to—" With effort, she twisted her head to look at him, to confirm what she thought. She shuddered in his arms.

Neither of them said anything for what seemed like an eternity and then her hands moved slightly to button her shirt. Her fingers trembled and fumbled with the devices, so Draco pushed her gently back down on the slab and did them for her. "It might take you a while to regain complete control of your muscles, but we don't have time for that now," he said coolly. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," she said. Draco helped her to her feet, but she slumped sideways onto him. Sighing, he gathered up his wand and shoved it into a pocket then picked up her emaciated body. He carried her out of the room and down the corridor, took a right, then the third left and found himself in a small abandoned parlor. Draco hesitated, then began to wind his way through the house. He needed to get outside the gates before he could Apparate them back to Potter's meeting point.

Granger was limp in his arms as he carried her, and the only sign that she was awake was that her head didn't loll against his shoulder. Even so, she couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds, which concerned him. He made it to the entrance hall and paused in the doorway to heft Granger's weight to a more comfortable position. Her arms came up and wrapped themselves about his neck, and the gesture felt so trusting that Draco had an inexplicable urge to protect her from all the evils in their world—including himself.

That thought made him shiver, and he squeezed Hermione's body to his. They exited the house and he was halfway across the lawn when she squirmed in his grip. "I think I can walk now," she whispered. Draco set her down gently and though her legs wobbled, she was—as always—right. Even so, he kept an arm slung around her hip, just in case she grew unsteady again. They didn't speak as they crossed the yard and slipped out the gate, then Draco pulled her close to Disapparate them back to Potter's meeting point.

Something very strange happened then. The moonlight changed, illuminating shards of amber in her eyes as her weary face looked up at him, her expression one of utter gratitude and a terrifying amount of trust. "Thank you," she said quietly, and though her lips were chapped their movement mesmerized him and before Draco knew what was really happening he was leaning over and his mouth was on hers.

Hermione's mouth moved against his, and whether it was a protest or simply her returning the kiss, it pushed Draco back into reality and he straightened. Granger's face was still upturned and her eyes were closed, but except for the crease in her brows that betrayed her confusion her features were calmer than they had been all night.

Feeling a mix of feelings he didn't dare analyze, Draco wrapped his arms more tightly about her and took a deep breath to concentrate…

After a long moment of discomfort, the couple landed on the wood planking of a dock with a sharp crack! Granger's legs gave out under her and Draco fumbled to keep her standing but they fell into a heap on the uneven wood. Draco groaned in discomfort as a loose nail dug into his backside. "You okay?" he asked her.

She nodded faintly in response and then there was the pound of footsteps and their bodies were pulled apart.

"Are you okay?"

"You look awful!"

"We were so worried about you!"

"Thank Merlin you're alive."

Potter and Weasley were all over her so fervently that they seemed to forget what she'd been through. Draco stood up and brushed himself off, the preened his hair quickly before snapping, "Back off!" The two other boys paused in their excitement and looked at him. "She needs space and rest, not…this" he waved his hand to indicate their reaction. "Can't you see she can barely stand on her own?"

The boys looked at one another somewhat guiltily, then looked back at Granger. Weasley put his arm around her waist to support her as Draco had done and Potter turned and began leading them down the dock. Draco seethed at Weasley for touching her but said nothing as he took the rear.

Potter led their party to a small rowboat tied loosely to the dock. He pulled the vessel closer, hopped the gap and then held everything steady for Weasley to aid Granger into it. The two of them coddled Hermione, seating her near the bow and checking several times that she was all right. Draco was left to leap over the ever-increasing gap between dock and boat and then untie it as well. At the sound of the rope coils hitting the deck the other boys jumped, then looked at Draco guiltily as they went and took up their oars.

They're pathetic, Draco fumed. They should be hurrying to keep her safe, not clinging all over her. Do they not understand that Apparition paths can be traced? She may have the knowledge and skill to scramble the trail, but she is in no condition to be doing so, and without her wand…well, it's near impossible. Draco shook his head and exhaled slowly, trying to lessen his anger—it wouldn't do him any good here.

He carefully made his way to Granger and, sitting on the board behind her, leaned over to speak. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted wearily. Draco's eyes looked over her, noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her shoulders slouched and how her arms lay at her sides, as if it was too much effort to raise them to her lap.

"Yeah, you look it." He searched for something to say that wouldn't feel bland or pointless. "Think you can make it to the house? It's about a fifteen-minute row from here."

"I think so," she answered, but she didn't look like she would. Granger worked her mouth wordlessly, trying to think of the right words. At last, she said, "I need…I need someone to lean on."

"Weasley?" Granger gave a small half-shrug, slouching lower in her seat. Keeping his voice even, Draco asked, "Would I be okay?"

Hermione nodded slightly and Draco moved forward to sit beside her. Her malnourished body pressed against his and her head fell to his shoulder. Not wanting to ruin it, Draco didn't move for a long minute, but then he reached between them and took her hand into his own. It was icy cold—he had felt the chill even through his pants—and he reached over to take her other, then enclosed her smaller hands in his own.

By the time Potter and Weasley got them to the little island, Granger was shivering with cold, despite that Draco had used heating charms on most of her clothing. Draco was very quickly relieved of her company, as the other two boys practically pushed him aside so they could flank her. Though he was annoyed with this, Draco stuck his nose in the air and led them to the gates.

The house was modest in its size (compared to Malfoy Manor) but opulent in its construction. The baroque architecture was crafted from expensive marble and looked no less grand on such a small scale. Draco always forgot how pretty it was. He paused at the gates, allowing them to recognize his lineage before he leaned close to the keyhole and whispered, "The dragon has returned."

The gates swung open soundlessly and Draco led the Golden Trio across the lawns and to the grand house. He stopped at the door and ran his hand down the marble, using his special sense of magic to find the right spot before he placed his hand flat against it and repeated his password. The heavy marble door opened and as he walked into the room the torches flickered into life.

"We want her room near us," Potter told him.

Draco tensed. "No, and I will hear no arguments about this. There is a room set up for her already."

"Malfoy, we will not allow you to—"

"Do not tempt me, Potter," Draco said, whipping around and aiming his wand inches away from Potter's throat. Weasley made a motion like he was reaching for his wand, but was blocked by Granger's body. "If you do not do as I say then I will not hesitate to kick you out of this house. We both know it responds to my blood and does my will."

Potter's jaw tightened but he held his ground until Granger wrapped her fingers around his arm. "It's all right," she said quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Just…don't fight…please."

Draco wheeled quickly to conceal his smirk. It would only anger the boys that he had won the argument, and he didn't want to upset Granger more. Her expression as he sank the knife in her belly flashed before him and it sobered him. "This way," he said calmly, his mien utterly stoic.

As he led the Trio through the halls, Draco could feel the anger of Potter and Weasley hot on his back. This isn't about me, he thought bitterly—but that was an argument for another time, and Draco's first priority was Granger's wellbeing.

Stopping before a split in two halls, Draco said, "I'll take her from here. Your rooms are—"

"No. We stay with her."

"The passage will not allow it."

Weasley narrowed his eyes at Draco and opened his mouth to spew furious words; Potter began to pull out his wand. It was Granger who once again stalled them. "Please, don't. I'll be fine," she whispered. She shivered violently between the other boys. "I trust…"

"Hermione," Weasley whined.

"Are you sure?" Potter asked, his expression hurt.

Draco held out his hand to her, and she reached out shakily and took it. The other boys stepped back reluctantly, looking betrayed. "You may see her in the morning. If you continue down this corridor and take the last left you should find yourselves in a familiar part of the house."

Stepping closer to Hermione, Draco told her, "I'm going to need to carry you." She nodded slightly and he carefully hefted her weight. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder and he carried her slowly down the narrower hall. He could feel Potter and Weasley staring at his back but ignored them. Only Malfoys could tread this hall—he was in no danger of being followed.

At the end of the corridor was a small hall with three doors leading off of it. Draco awkwardly reached for one of the door handles and twisted, then set Granger down within. Holding her with one arm, he used magic to light the fireplace. She swayed in his grip, which worried him. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged minutely, which concerned him even more. "I'll make you well, I promise. Stupid girl, you should've just stayed with us."

"Didn't want…any of you hurt," she said with effort. At a loss for words, Draco brushed her hair back from her face and gifted her with a rare smile, then led her over to the bed.

Examining the vials beside the bed, Draco handed her a Dreamless Sleep Potion. "Drink it. You need sleep." Without protest, she downed the liquid and was asleep within seconds. "Probably didn't even need the potion," he muttered to himself.

Draco snapped his fingers for a house elf, and when none appeared he sighed. He always forgot that this set of rooms were bounded by a different type of magic, and the elves wouldn't hear his summons. Glancing at her sleeping form, Draco shrugged and left the room.

Weasley was, predictably, waiting for him at the end of the hall. "What do you want?" Draco groaned.

"Where did you take her?"

"To a more private set of rooms, where she won't be disturbed."

"Why can't I walk down that hall?"

"I don't know," Draco said exasperatedly. "Maybe it's magic."

Weasley gripped his arm tightly. "Don't toy with me," he growled.

"Disgusting," Draco said with a sneer. "That'd be tasteless of me." He brushed Weasley's hand off and began to walk down the hall.

The fist came out of nowhere, registering in Draco's peripheral vision just enough that he turned his face to see what it was and the punch landed dangerously close to his eye. Draco staggered against a wall, at first stunned and then he glared at Weasley. "Do not take this out on me. Do you think that you and Potter are the only ones who have suffered because of what happened?"

Weasley pulled Draco up by his robes and punched him again, this time catching half his right eye and leaving sparks in his vision. Draco kicked out and was pleased when his foot encountered something soft and fleshy. Weasley dropped him and bumped into another wall. "Oh, indeed," the redhead wheezed. "Must be really hard for you. All you have to do is stab someone you already hate. Bet you just wish it really had been a killing blow. Did you enjoy seeing your precious master again?"

Draco's whole body flushed cold, even his eye, which had been feeling very hot earlier. But instead of feeling angry, he kept remembering Granger over and over again. In his head, he could see her defiantly kneeing Wormtail in the groin, remembered the wrongness of the body beneath her open shirt, the look in her eyes as he thrust the knife into her. "Malfoy," she had begged. He wanted to vomit just thinking of it all, could feel his stomach and throat muscles clenching and had there been anything in his stomach he was sure it would be on the floor by now.

"I see," Draco muttered. "Feeling bad about the plan Weasley? Horrified that I could actually go through with it? You and Potter wouldn't have been able to, we all know that—and it's not even because it was the Death Eaters. Take away the Dark Lord and his minions, and you and Potter still wouldn't have been able to kill her even if it was the only way to save her.

"So, now the question is…do I love her more than you, or less?"

Weasley stared at him, unable to formulate words, unable to understand even to the smallest degree, what Draco had been through. He sighed and turned to find another way to his potion ingredients, and was startled to find Potter standing mere meters away, watching them. "You don't love her," Weasley whispered behind him. "You don't love her," he repeated louder.

Feeling suddenly angry with both of them, Draco walked until he stood even with Potter. "Imagine feeling the knife go into her body, dragging it through six inches of her flesh." He stared at his hands. "So much blood, and I couldn't tell how much was hers. Could you have done it?" No. I was the only one who could. The only one, Draco thought miserably.

Not waiting for a response, Draco left the two boys staring after him once more. He made his way to the small pantry that was always kept stocked with essential potions items. His eyes filled with tears and his right one was beginning to swell closed, but he waited until the door was securely shut behind him before he allowed himself to be overcome with great, gasping sobs.

After all of his emotions were out, Draco grabbed a bag off the shelf and began stuffing it with potions ingredients. He would fix her. After all, she had fixed him.

My role in this mess
Is not something that I can be proud of
But it's all going to change

--Snow Patrol, "Wow"