{ Chapter Nineteen }

Following their discovery, new charges were brought against Ron. Draco and Harry spent weeks gathering all the evidence and preparing to present the case before the Wizengamot. The hearing went seamlessly. In the end, the decision of guilty was unanimous. The sentence was the Dementor's kiss.

Two weeks before Christmas Draco and Hermione sat together in the round court room. Harry and Luna were there, as well as Arthur and Molly Weasley. They all sat silent as they watched.

Harry still couldn't understand what had went so wrong. When had his best friend, one third of the Golden Trio that had saved the wizarding world from Voldemort and Death Eaters, become so evil? Was it so gradual that no one noticed? Or was he possessed or something? It wasn't the first time that Harry had thought of that possibility. It certainly would explain it. Ron wasn't in his right mind and hadn't been for years, not since the end of the war.

He thought about saying something, just to raise the question of the possibility that Ron had been possessed. Then he turned his head and saw Hermione. His other best friend. The other third of the Golden Trio. She had lived through so much. She had survived so much at the hands of the man in question. Still she was here, sitting next to Draco, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. Her back was straight, her eyes unwavering as she glared at the red-headed man in front of them. Her strength and resilience was evident to anyone that saw her.

Harry knew, though. He knew how close she had come to being lost to them forever.

He remembered the evidence that he, Draco and Theo had sorted through. The pictures and the notes that were written on the back of them, clearly in Ron's scrawling handwriting. The memory sent a cold shiver down his back and he let his gaze return to the man that he used to call his best friend. In that moment he knew that it didn't matter. The black soul that had committed numerous heinous crimes was about to be eaten by Dementors, never to return again. Whether that soul belonged to Ron, or to some other dark entity (Voldemort?), it really didn't matter. So he didn't say anything about his suspicion. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, put his arm around Luna and watched justice be served.

When the Dementor's were finished, the small crowd stood and walked quietly towards the exit. Harry followed Luna, his hand resting on the small of her back as she walked down the row of seats to the aisle. As they turned into the aisle and started towards the door, he was surprised to feel a small hand on his arm. He turned to see Hermione standing next to him. Her brown eyes were misty as she looked up at him, and she hesitated only a moment before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

Merlin, it had been ages since she had hugged him.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, the way he wish he could have done all along. After a long moment, or two or three, Hermione pulled away from him and took a shuddering breath. She chewed on her lower lip for a minute before she seemed to make up her mind.

"If you want to come back to our house, I'll answer any questions you might still have." She glanced at Draco quickly, not sure what he would make of her invitation. He just raised his brow at her and waited for Harry to answer.

"Luna, you're welcome to come as well," she added as an afterthought when she noticed the blonde was staring at them. Or through them. With Luna, you never could really tell.

"Oh, that's okay Hermione. I really should be getting back to the Quibbler. The place falls apart without me." She smiled sweetly and squeezed Harry's hand before making her exit.

Harry was still surprised by Hermione's invitation. Part of him had a ton of questions that hadn't been answered yet, but another part wondered if it was really a good idea for her to be talking about it. He had seen the pictures, he had a pretty good idea as to what she had been through. He didn't really need to make her relive it all over again.

"It's okay, Harry. I won't blow the house up or anything. I promise." She smiled a small smile that only got wider when she heard Draco chuckle behind her.

Harry still wasn't sure, even though his lips involuntarily turned up at her unexpected joke. He looked between her and Draco a couple of times, trying to figure out if he should take her up on the offer or not.

"Look, you both still have questions. I'm ready to talk about it, but I only want to do it once. So this is your chance. Come, don't come, it's up to you. But I won't offer again." She sensed his hesitation, but she also knew his curiosity only to well. He wouldn't be able to resist if he knew it was a one-time offer.

"Very well. Lead the way." He stepped back so she and Draco could walk ahead of him to the floo. As they walked the halls of the Ministry, he tried to focus on the questions that he wanted to ask, the questions that he needed answered. By the time they arrived in Draco's study, his mind had come up blank.

Draco poured each of them a glass of firewhiskey. Hermione sat in the chair. Her back was stiff, her hands rested on her knees, and her knee bounced up and down quickly with her nerves. Draco and Harry sat on the couch across from her, their stances nearly mirroring her own.

The room was quiet for a long time. They were all lost in their thoughts, not sure where to start. Draco was pouring them each a second glass before any of them spoke.

"Well, this was easier than I thought it would be." Hermione shifted back in her seat in a relaxed position, crossing one leg over the other and letting her arms lie across the armrests. Her fingers tapped along the fabric in a slow rhythm. "Draco, ask me something. Anything."

He sat back as well and took a long drink from his glass. He wasn't sure where to start. Unlike Harry, he had at least fifty questions already floating around in his brain.

"Might as well start from the beginning, yeah?" he muttered to himself. Then he directed his silver eyes at her and launched into his first question. "When did you figure out you had been cursed?"

She raised her eyebrow, took a drink, and sat forward in her chair again.

"The day after. I woke up early, took a shower, fixed my hair and make up, then went in the kitchen to start breakfast. The thing is, I was doing all of this without any conscious thought. It felt kind of like sleep-walking. I was going through the motions, but I didn't have control over the motions I was going through. I knew something was wrong, different, but I didn't know what.

"When he came in for breakfast..." She hesitated. Her knee started bouncing again and she averted her eyes so she was staring at the oh-so-interesting carpet instead of at the two men on the couch. "He...well, he told me to take my clothes off. And I did. I was horrified. There I was, in our kitchen, with the blinds open, stripping off my clothes. I tried to stop myself. I tried to fight it, but it didn't matter what I did. It was like my body had a mind of it's own.

"He started laughing at me. He stood right behind me, put his hands on my waist and he whispered in my ear. 'There's no point in fighting it, Mione. You belong to me now.'" She shivered as she remembered him saying those very words. She still remembered the way her heart had dropped in her chest, the way her breath had caught in her throat. She didn't tell them that his next words were 'Now make yourself useful and suck my cock.'

She took another drink from her glass, took a deep breath and steeled herself before looking at them again. They both seemed to realize she was finished with that question and ready to move on.

"How did you do it?" Harry had been trying to think of questions for her, and that was the only one he could come up with.

"How did I do what?" Hermione raised her eyebrow at him in question.

"I know you pretty well, right? You're all about equality and being in control of your own destiny. You were thrown into a situation where you had no control whatsoever, even over your own actions, right? Even without the physical abuse, that in itself would have been a living hell for you. And you did it for five years. How?"

She watched him carefully for a long minute. She knew exactly what he was asking, and she knew the answer to his question. She just wasn't sure how he would take what she had to say. He would either think it was brilliant, or he would suggest psychiatric care. Draco was looking at her expectantly, obviously as interested in her answer as Harry was.

"Okay," she nodded her head, more to herself than to them. "I knew I needed to protect myself. Not my physical body, because I didn't have any control over that, but my mind. My soul. The essence of who I am. I had to protect that, or I wouldn't have a chance of finding a solution. Have you ever heard of a muggle condition called Dissociative Identity Disorder or Multiple Personality Disorder?"

Harry's brow scrunched in confusion. He had heard of it, but wasn't sure where she was going with her explanation.

"What is that?" Draco had never heard the term before.

"It's a mental condition where a person has a dominant personality, and one or more other personalities. When the dominant personality is threatened, it retreats and one of the other personalities takes over. It's like a defense mechanism."

"So what? You gave yourself multiple personalities?" Harry scoffed at her and she smirked in return.

"Not exactly. I used techniques from occlumency to create barriers in my mind. I let my dominant personality retreat behind those barriers whenever I was in danger, or when I was being asked to fulfill the requirements of the curse. Meanwhile, my body would continue to function on it's own, controlled by the curse. I was always aware of what was going on, but I was separate from it all. Like I was watching it happen to someone else rather than to myself. It's kind of like DID, except the muggles can't control which personality is in control, and when one of them is in control, the others aren't aware of what is happening."

"Bloody brilliant." Harry sat back in his seat and took a long drink from his glass. He drained it quickly and reached for the bottle. After refilling his glass he again looked at the witch sitting across from him. Brightest witch of their age. No fucking doubt about it.

After a long pause, Draco shifted in his seat and caught Hermione's attention yet again.

"What happened the night of the ball?"

The question hung thick in the air. She had known this question would come up. How could it not? Her hand automatically went to her stomach and she sighed deeply. Her eyes became unfocused as she relived the night over in her mind.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Harry said you look like shit, and he's right! How could you let this happen? You're supposed to always look your best. It's part of the damn rite! How did you get around it?" People were starting to look at them and he didn't want to risk anyone finding out what he had done, so he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out the back door.

"I hadn't been feeling well for days. I suspected that I was pregnant, but I hadn't had a chance to take a test to verify it. When he asked me what was wrong with me, I couldn't lie to him, so I told him what I thought. He was furious. I had never seen him so angry." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Of course, you both know what happened next. He wanted to make sure there was no baby. That there would never be a baby."

She raised her glass to her lips as Draco and Harry sat in stunned silence.

"When he was finished, I looked at him. Looked him right in the eye, and I said 'Go ahead, Ron. Kill me. Just remember, you bound us together.'" She smirked to herself as she remembered the way his face had drained of color. "He asked me what I was talking about, even though I'm pretty sure he knew. I had to word it carefully, or I wouldn't be able to say anything. It couldn't be perceived as talking back to him or arguing with him. I said 'Did you read the curse you put on us? When spouses are bound they follow each other in death. What do you think that means?'"

Draco's brows furrowed as he thought back to what he had read of the curse. He had been over it all so many times, he had it memorized. He was almost positive...

"I'm pretty sure it only worked the one way. If the husband died, the wife would also die." He looked up to see her looking at him, a triumphant smile on her lips.

"I'm pretty sure you're right." She shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'oh well'. "He didn't know that, though. And from that point on, he barely touched me, so I'd say it worked out pretty well, wouldn't you?"

"You tricked him?" Harry was shocked, amazed and more than a little impressed. She had found a way around the curse. She had managed to beat Ron at his own game.

"I asked the right questions." She shrugged again.

Draco's mind was whirling with all of the new information, plugging it into the right spots, creating new questions. One of which he wasn't sure if he should ask now, or if he should wait a bit until after Potter had left. It was a personal question, but it was one that he needed to know the answer to. And she had said this would be their only chance to ask.

"Did you say that he wanted to make sure there would never be a baby? What does that mean?" His voice was quiet. He thought he knew the answer, but he was afraid to hear it. She looked right at him, her brown eyes full of surprise and regret, and he knew.

"I never went back to St. Mungo's for the follow-up, so maybe not. But they told me while I was there that the chances of me ever having a baby were very small. Even if I were to get pregnant, which is in itself unlikely, there is so much scar tissue that it probably wouldn't be viable. I'm sorry, Draco. You read my hospital file. I assumed you knew."

"No. I didn't." He shook his head slightly. The silence that descended on the room was tense, sad, haunted. He decided then and there to make her an appointment with the best healer money could buy and find out if anything had changed in the last three years.

Harry cleared his throat and waited until both Hermione and Draco were looking at him before asking his next question.

"Hermione, you told me that Draco owed you a huge favor and that's why you chose him to be your sponsor. What favor did he owe you?"

Hermione's eyes met Draco's and they both smiled.

"She saved my ass."

"Twice."

"Yeah, twice." He laughed at the look of amusement on her face.

"When? Where?" Harry was still looking between the two of them. He had already surmised something along those lines, but he wanted specifics. He still had suspicions that they had secretly been in involved at Hogwarts, as crazy as that seemed.

"At the Final Battle."

"Bellatrix was kicking his ass. I stepped in. He was about to be blown up with a reducto charm, so I cast a shield." She stood and walked around the table to stand in front of him.

"The reducto rebounded and half of the castle started falling on our heads." He took her hand and she sat down on his lap. Her arms went around his neck while his arms went around her waist. It was then that she realized they had never talked about it. Not until now.

"I pushed him around the corner into a safe hallway." Even though they were answering Harry's question, they weren't really talking to Harry anymore. Their eyes were locked on each others.

"She had saved my life, so I gave her a Token."

"And in return, he saved my life as well." Her lips descended on his in a sweet, gentle kiss.

Harry watched the scene in front of him, and he finally got it. They hadn't been involved at Hogwarts as he had suspected.

They had been linked through a Token, a life-debt.

Somewhere in the middle of saving each other they had fallen in love.

Two months later

Hermione stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. She was wearing a long black skirt, a cream colored sweater and black boots. Her hair was pulled up on the sides, with the back hanging in long curls past her shoulders. Small diamond earrings glittered in the light as she tilted her head to the left then to the right, studying the reflection of the woman in the mirror.

She saw past the expensive clothing and jewelry. Past the milky white skin that was peppered with small freckles. Past the chocolate brown eyes that had small golden flecks floating in them. She looked past all of that and saw a woman that had beaten the odds. A woman that had survived a war only to turn around and survive something even worse. She saw a woman that was clever and resourceful. A woman that was brave and stubborn.

Her eyes caught sight of Draco in the mirror and held his gaze. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in black trousers and a blue button down. His blonde hair was getting a little bit too long and the fringe nearly covered his silver eyes.

"You look absolutely amazing," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She smiled as she turned around in his arms. He kissed her, slow and steady, for a long moment before pulling back and staring into her beautiful brown eyes. He wondered if she had any idea how proud he was of her.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. She had been reluctant to the idea at first, but once she had decided to go through with it she had been unstoppable.

She pulled away from him and smiled. A real, genuine smile that was so very rare for her. She smiled and it took his breath away.

"I am. Let's go." She took his hand in hers and pulled him towards the study. She was excited and nervous at the same time.

Two months ago, after she had sat with Harry and Draco and answered their questions, she had felt the sudden urge to write. It had taken her six weeks to write it all down. She started with her wedding day. She chronicled their five year marriage. She described the relief she felt when she saw Draco Malfoy in her sitting room on her fifth wedding anniversary.

She wrote about finding Ron's stash of memorabilia and the emotional torment she went through. She told of her recovery efforts, the therapy and the group meetings she attended with other survivors in the weeks and months following her escape. She ended her memoirs with Ron's trial and subsequent sentence.

She wrote it all down, the actions, the feelings, the memories. Everything. And when she was finished, she closed the book on that part of her life and walked away from it stronger, wiser, and slightly more damaged than she had started. The most important thing, though, was that she walked away. She had beat the odds, she had beat him at his own game, and she had survived.

Draco watched as she wrote, her quill scratching against the parchment for hours on end. He read through most of what she wrote and he realized that a lot of people out there wanted to know her story, just as he had. She was a war hero, beloved throughout the wizarding world, and people were more than curious. It took him a small amount of convincing, but he was finally able to talk her into publishing her memoirs.

Tonight they were attending a dinner with the publishing company, in celebration of her book release the next day. The early reviews were amazing, and the pre-sales were unprecedented.

Hermione's story was a success, and it hadn't even been released yet.

As they walked through the study, he suddenly stopped her.

"I almost forgot. Happy Valentine's Day." He handed her a small box wrapped in red foil with a silver bow across the front.

She took it from him and opened it with a large smile on her face. When she saw what was inside, she squealed in excitement. She picked up the book that was lying in the box. It was bound in brown leather, and in silver script across the front and the binding were the words

The Token

A story of survival in an anything but perfect world.

- Hermione Malfoy