CHAPTER IX

"Granger!" Draco stopped, startled, as she leapt out of the library in front of him. "What are you…" He glanced over her head, through the door, and like so many times before, his eyes narrowed in realisation. "Did you come back down here last night?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I did and I'm sorry. But I got some sleep." She pointed to her hair. "See? Bird's nest."

He blinked at her bemusedly, even more so when she took a step closer.

"I need you to listen to me," she began, and despite her best intentions to be brisk and composed about this, her voice caught on the final word. He heard it, clearly, because his gaze sharpened, instantly concerned.

"What's wrong?"

It was irrational, utterly unreasonable, but it hit her like a blow to the gut that he didn't know. That he couldn't remember what they'd been through.

"Just—" she inhaled a shaky breath "—just listen. Please." It took her a moment to steel herself, but then she explained as quickly and as succinctly as she could everything that would happen at breakfast. Like before, he seemed to think she might have gone utterly bonkers, but also like before, he didn't interrupt; simply listened as she had requested, his focus entirely on her.

"The reason I know this," she finished quietly, "is because I'm stuck in a time loop. I've lived this day before, many times, and it always ends the same way." It almost hurt to say it out loud but she had to. "The Death Eaters find us, and they kill everyone. Kingsley, Molly, George." She remembered their bodies slumped where they'd fallen, remembered Draco's defeated expression as he bid her destroy the clock—and her voice cracked. "You."

His gaze snapped to hers, something inscrutable in his eyes. She wanted to touch him; she reached for him, then stopped herself.

Because today would be her last chance. Her plan meant that, whatever happened, this would be her final loop, and she would have to live with the consequences.

This morning's me loved you too, he had said. Call her cowardly, but she couldn't quite bring herself to put that to the test.

"I know it's a lot to take in," she said, "and I'm sorry to spring it on you like this. But I need you to believe me. And you will. I know you will, because you've believed me before."

He let out a harsh breath.

"Granger…"

"Please," she said, unable to help an edge of desperation from creeping into her tone. "Once everything I told you would happen happens, bring Remus and come and find me. I'll be in the study."

It struck her suddenly and with force that there was a traitor in the very next room—a spy, watching, waiting for their moment to strike—and her chest spasmed.

"But no one else can know," she said urgently. "Please, Draco. No one else can know."

...

"So," a familiar voice said from behind her. "A time loop, huh?"

Relief surged through her, and she turned on a sharp inhale to find Draco and Remus framed in the doorway.

"That's what you said last time," she told him as he pulled the door shut behind them.

"Last time?" Remus shook his head and sagged, bewildered, into the stiff leather chair behind the desk. Hermione figured Malfoy had filled him in so far. Not, of course, that Draco himself knew much yet.

Still, she realised with a rush of warmth, it had been enough for him to believe her. His following her instructions to the letter were testament to that.

"Did Arthur leave?" she asked, glancing between the two men.

"Yes," Draco said. "Off to find the address of a certain Ndidi Mbachu." He gave her a significant look. "But I guess you knew that already."

"I know her address already too," she said recklessly. She crossed the room and sat herself opposite a rather baffled looking Remus. "I know a lot of things," she added, suddenly subdued.

"Hermione," Remus said after a pregnant pause. "What on earth is going on?"

"It's a long story," she said, slanting the two men a rueful smile, "and one you might find difficult to believe."

"You predicted my entire breakfast," Draco said drily. He crossed his arms across his chest, propped his hip against the desk, and regarded her expectantly. "I think I can open my mind for just a few minutes."

"We will do our best," Remus agreed, leaning back in his chair, evidently settling in for the long haul.

Not that Hermione had all that long to convince them. Her plan required haste and brevity, so she filled them in as best she could—beginning with the events that led to the clock smashing the first time round, and concluding with her finally escaping with Draco and said clock still intact, only to discover Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters in this very house.

Her throat grew tight when she described it, remembering her despair, remembering how close the witch had come to discovering them, remembering that frantic, breathless kiss in the hallway…

"So I destroyed the clock," she said as briskly as she could, "and it sent me back. But now I have a plan, and we don't have very long to put it into action." Her gaze flickered briefly to Draco. "I need you to trust me."

Silence fell as the two men evidently contemplated all she'd said. Remus had been watching her intently as she spoke, but now his eyes were unfocused, his fingers steepled before him. His scarred face was unreadable, but already she knew she'd made the right choice telling him; she knew she could count on him to carefully weigh up the evidence and not immediately dismiss her out of hand.

Draco, too. She could feel his gaze fixed, unwavering, on her face. Heat crawled up her neck at such scrutiny—especially since the last time he had looked at her so intensely, they had ended up entwined and gasping in the hallway...

She pushed the memory aside. But then there was nothing to fill the silence except the very real possibility that Remus might not believe her. That—and the thought was physically painful—Draco might not believe her.

Hit with a sudden wave of fear, Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes.

She needed them to believe her. Her plan wouldn't work without them.

Eventually, though, the leather creaked as Remus shifted in his chair, and then he cleared his throat.

"This plan of yours," he said, and her eyes snapped open, wide and hopeful. "Tell me what I need to do."

...

Remus left soon after. She'd had given him Ndidi's address, and his goal was to get the witch, her research and the clock to a safe location. Hermione had suggested Shell Cottage in the next but one county, where the older witch would be safe and well looked after, but it was entirely possible Ndidi had her own bunker elsewhere.

Hermione certainly wouldn't put it past her to have an entire network of secret hidey-holes, most likely filled with all sorts of powerful artefacts. She shivered. Who knew what terrible, wonderful magic that bloody woman was capable of?

"What," Remus had asked as he shrugged on is coat, "do I tell her when she starts shooting spells at me?"

"The truth," Hermione said frankly. "Her blasted clock has caused a time loop and if she wants to live, then she needs to go with you. And whatever you do," she'd added as he pulled out his wand and prepared to Apparate, "don't drop the clock!"

With a wink and a smile, the older wizard vanished, and she and Draco were left alone.

She didn't know why but the air felt suddenly loaded, thick with tension. She knew she'd been quite brusque with him so far—mostly out of embarrassment, like facing a lover the morning after, which was of course patently ridiculous, since he remembered nothing of their loops before.

But she knew he'd noticed it.

He wasn't stupid. He'd work out why sooner or later.

He'd been standing just in front of the desk, but now he leant back against it, wood creaking as he folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs.

He was all long, lean lines, she thought absently. Of course, that reminded her that it hadn't been all that long ago that those long, lean lines had been pressed up against her, and the memory sent heat scorching through her veins.

She turned abruptly away, crossing the room to stop at the window. There wasn't much to see. Just slopes of sand and long, dry grass fluttering in the breeze. But the view was familiar. Calming.

This house had been their haven for so long. Too long perhaps. Maybe that had been their mistake. It had just been so good to be together again—to enjoy, for once, the carefree little moments that had been all too rare in the years since the Ministry fell and the Order had been forced underground.

She let out a soft huff of wry amusement. For a long time, she'd have probably given anything to live her time here again. To be surrounded by the people she loved, day after day. To forget, even just for a moment, that they were fighting a war.

Not now though. Now she wanted to wake up anywhere but the floor of that damn library. She could open her eyes in Voldemort's own bedchambers, Nagini coiled tightly around her, and she'd probably be relieved.

Whatever happened today, though, Hermione knew they would all have to leave the house. They would scatter to the web of cottages and caves and secret hollows the Order had established across the country, and their brief respite from the war, their little moment of peace… it would all be over.

She wondered where Draco would go. Whether he would stay with her and her books, and finish what they had started.

Her heart gave a silly little jump. They had started more than research here, and she was pretty sure both of them knew it.

"So," Draco said, making her start a little and jerk round from the glass. "What do we do now?"

He was still leant on the edge of the desk, legs crossed casually at the ankles. But there was tension in his shoulders, in the hard set of his jaw.

"We wait." She gave him an encouraging half smile and lowered herself into the squashy armchair by the window. "We can't do anything now until Arthur and Remus get back."

"And then we smoke out the mole." He pressed his lips together. "Who do you think it is?"

The faces of their friends flashed before her eyes. Kingsley, Sturgis, Tonks, Angelina, George. She'd seen their bodies, but that didn't mean a thing. Not when Bellatrix was around.

"I don't know," she said eventually. "I can't imagine anyone here choosing to betray us."

He raised his eyebrows.

"You think they've been Imperiused?"

"It's the only explanation that makes sense to me. Whoever it was wasn't with the Death Eaters when they left, so I can only presume they'd outlived their usefulness and Bellatrix killed them for it."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. Bellatrix Lestrange was vindictive to her very bones; she had no doubt the witch would have lifted the curse on the unsuspecting traitor just a moment before she killed them, so he or she could appreciate the full extent of their betrayal.

"You never did say," Draco murmured in the resulting silence, "how many times you've lived this morning."

"Does it matter?" She stared bleakly at the carpet. "Too many."

He hesitated.

"And I die? Every time?"

She looked up to find his expression strained but almost resigned, as if he figured his death was somehow inevitable—and her heart twisted. She worried about that too. So much it made her almost sick with it.

"Yes," she said. "But only because you insist on throwing yourself in front of me all the time."

His shoulders loosened a little, as she'd hoped they would, and he tossed her a smile.

"The hero's burden," he said drily, then pulled a face. "Potter would be so proud."

"He would be grateful," she said, then added, just to be cruel, "Eternally and undyingly. Ron too, I imagine. "

His eyes widened at the thought of gratitude from his former school rivals, and she smothered a laugh. It felt good to tease him. She'd missed it during the endless hours she'd been trying to save him.

But then he gave her a sideways glance, and the expression on his face was one that always signalled trouble.

"Does this mean you owe me about a hundred life debts?" he asked with a broad grin, and she stopped laughing. Abruptly.

Merlin, she'd not thought about that before. Not that she minded really. She was just a bit worried about what he might call them in on—something wicked certainly, going by the look in his eye.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not sure if it works that way. But I am grateful," she added. "I haven't said it before—not, of course, that you'd remember if I had—but thank you."

The smile had slipped from his face, the teasing well and truly over, and she blushed. It felt a bit silly thanking him, as if she'd taken his sacrifice to mean more than it had.

"I know it was always more of a spur of the moment thing than anything else," she said quickly, "but it… it means a lot to me that you would do that." She swallowed, dropping her gaze. "That you would sacrifice your life like that. For me."

He didn't reply for a moment, and when she glanced up, concerned she had revealed too much, she saw a strange mingle of guilt and self-consciousness in his eyes.

"You shouldn't thank me," he said, pushing his hands in his pockets. "I've not done anything yet."

"You have. Of course you have." Her heart felt suddenly too full to contain—he needed to know; he needed to understand what it had meant to her—and she stood and crossed the room towards him. "You don't remember it," she said earnestly, "but it happened."

He lifted his shoulder in an embarrassed half-shrug.

"Well, that's just it, isn't it? It wasn't really me. The Dracos that saved your life don't exist anymore."

"They do," she said immediately. "They're you."

Reluctance tugged at his mouth.

"Granger…"

"No, listen," she said. "There was a reason every loop ended the same way, and it was because it was you. Every time."

He blinked, and she moved towards him, almost instinctively and without realising it.

"It was you who shoved me out of the way of that curse," she said, voice growing thicker with every word. "It was you who told me to destroy the clock when you had survived but no one else had. It was you, when we were in that hallway and I said I couldn't do it, and you made that stupid joke that wasn't even funny but somehow it was everything I needed to hear. And it was you when we k—"

She cut herself off, flushed and breathless. Somehow, without her noticing, he'd stood up from the desk and towered over her, his whole body tense, wound tight like a spring.

And his eyes—Merlin, his eyes—were the most searing things she'd ever seen.

"When we what?" he asked hoarsely.

Godric, he knew was her only thought. He knew what she'd been about to say. She took a step back, but he mirrored it.

"Granger," he said more softly. "Hermione." And her name on his lips sent tingles across her skin.

She stared up at him, heart thumping hard in her chest, heat prickling every inch of her body. Could she say it? Could she say it out loud?

Her eyes found his, and they were suddenly so sweet, so warm…

"It was you," she whispered.

"When?" he murmured. He was so close; she could feel the heat of his body ghosting her skin. She felt her fingers lift, quite of their own accord, to smooth across his stomach, hot and firm beneath the soft fabric of his jumper.

"It was you." She was trembling, voice soft, barely a breath. "When we kissed in the hallway. It was you."

He let out a soft groan and cupped her face.

Their lips had hardly just met—the briefest, most familiar moment of heat and sweetness, and the roar of exhilaration and want in her ears—when the door opened.

Hermione reacted instinctively, dragging backwards, breath leaving her lips with a gasp.

"Oh Merlin!" Molly stared in shock. "Merlin, I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"It's fine." Hermione couldn't look at Draco. She swallowed, red-faced, the heat of his touch morphing into the heat of humiliation. "We were just—um. We were just…"

"Going over some research," he said helpfully. He smiled at Molly. "Would you like us to help you with the laundry?"

Molly blinked down at the basket in her hand.

"Oh. Oh yes. Yes, that's very sweet of you."

As he passed, Draco gave Hermione's hand a brief squeeze. She met his eyes, and realised the fire in them hadn't quite diminished.

Later, they seemed to promise. We'll finish this later.

"You coming, Granger?" he said mildly as he disappeared through the doorway.

...

Molly liked to do the laundry entirely by hand—she said it was soothing, and she was right. Hermione felt her nerves settle like landing butterflies as she and Draco pinned out the bed sheets on the veranda. It was homely, comfortingly humdrum, although less so of course when Draco kept slanting her those heated little looks. Not to mention the crackle of electricity that shot between them whenever he handed her a peg and their fingers brushed.

Before she knew it, the grandfather clock in the library began tolling—she heard its gong through the wall—and she realised Arthur would be back any minute.

"Hermione?" Remus appeared suddenly through the sliding doors. He still had his coat on and his wand in his hand.

"Is she safe?" she asked immediately, and the older wizard nodded.

"As houses. The clock too."

So that was it, then. There was no going back.

"Hello?" Arthur called from inside. "Anyone around?"

Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance.

"I guess that means it's show time," he said.

It appeared everyone had been waiting for Arthur just as keenly as she had, because by the time Hermione stepped into the hallway, the whole house had assembled to see them off: Hestia and Molly from the kitchen, Angelina on the stairs with Teddy and Tonks, Kingsley and George still arguing over the outcome of their latest game of chess.

Only Sturgis was missing. Hermione remembered from earlier loops that he hadn't felt very well and had gone up to his bedroom for a rest.

She crossed him off her mental list of possible moles, then sighed.

One down, only six to go.

"I've got the address," Arthur said, and when he rattled it off, so did everyone else. So, Hermione realised, stomach clenching, did the traitor. "Who's coming with me?"

Fate had, of course, already decided. She stepped forward, Draco and Remus a mere footstep behind.

Soberly, Malfoy helped her into her coat, Molly made them promise to take care, and then Remus Apparated them away.

...

A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, please do let me know what you thought x