"May I take a look at your wounds?"

"No."

"Just a tiny little glimpse—"

"No."

"I would cast only one simple healing spell to help you heal faster—"

"Granger, I'm not moving a single muscle to disturb this position, not as long as you're here with me."

Hermione smiled softly. They were lying on their sides in his bed still, with their faces turned to one another, their bodies mostly naked under the duvet and their fingers entwined. They had spent in this bed perhaps for twelve hours and they lay in this exact position for at least tow of them. Hermione had scrutinized his facial features until she was sure she would recognize him only from a single look; her fingers had explored practically every inch of his upper body save for the back until she was sure she could recall it even when blind. She touched the frown on his face, kissed the corners of his lips with attentive care, caressed the scar that marred his face until he closed his eyes with vulnerability, brushed over the skin of his muscular arms, carefully avoiding the Dark Mark. He, in turn, analyzed her body with equal meticulousness: kissing every freckle on her body (there were a lot), squeezed and pressed her flesh, staking the claim he stated to have on her the first time they had sex. His favorite parts were still her hair (no matter what he did, he always seemed to have one hand entangled in it) and her breasts (which he gave his exclusive attention to frequently and which were, satisfyingly, Hermione's most sensitive area). Mostly, when they didn't have sex, he stared deeply into her eyes with that ferocious possessiveness which she found herself enthralled by. His eyes were deep, intense, and claiming, and Hermione was consecutively unable to look away from him.

In those twelve hours, they had a similar conversation to this one multiple times and it always ended the same – whenever Hermione wanted to treat the runes on his back, he would answer with a growl, pulling her body closer to his; whenever she tried to get out of bed and do something else, like cook food for him, or make more healing potions that they were beginning run out of, or send a Patronus to Hogwarts to make sure everything was in order there, he would immediately get up to follow her, so she had to stay in bed if she wanted him to lay there too and heal properly.

But she understood perfectly well why he didn't want for her to be away from him – because she didn't want to be away from him too.

"Okay then," she said, snuggling closer to him. She was still quite worried about his wounds but she knew that the worst of it was already in the past, and he claimed her kisses made him feel better, so she only did more of the kissing.

He readily accepted her, reaching his arms out to hug her tightly. Her face was in his chest as she breathed in his scent.

"So that's why you married me," she mumbled light-heartedly into his skin. She hadn't felt so peaceful for at least six years and the calmness that suddenly filled her heart made her feel like she was high.

"What?" he mumbled back sleepily.

She looked up at him. "You know. That's why you married me, right?"

He frowned. "You think I did it to fuck you?"

"Well, why else?"

His frown deepened. "Do you really believe I wouldn't have gotten you to my bed if I truly wanted? Do you think I needed to marry you to do that?"

Hermione smiled, unwilling to keep the conversation serious. "Will you ever tell me why you did it then?"

All he said was, "No," as he snuggled her back to her previous positioned and she reveled in the closeness of their bodies.

A know at the door of his bedroom disturbed their piece.

"Yes?" Malfoy called out. She felt his body tense.

"Master," they heard Mipsy voice coming from the other side. "There is a… letter for you."

Malfoy shuffled under her. "What letter?"

"I—I'll leave it for you here."

Malfoy stood up and opened the door, taking the letter from Mipsy while Hermione covered her upper body with the duvet. She didn't feel ashamed for what they did – they were married and had all the right to have sex in the elf's eyes – but there was still a certain uneasiness in her chest.

"Thank you, Mipsy," Malfoy said. Mipsy nodded and disappeared.

He opened the matte cream enveloped and read through the letter while Hermione quickly put on her clothes, watching the frown on his face get deeper and deeper with every word he read. She went to him, asking, "What does it say?"

Malfoy finished reading and crumpled the paper in his fist. "I'm invited to a party," he said, spitting out the word party like poison.

"What party?" Hermione asked.

"The Death Eaters party. They hold it every month or so, to celebrate the amount of low-lives they've killed. But mostly it's just power play. Voldemort's idea, although he never shows up to these things."

"Okay… when is it?"

Malfoy stared at her. "In three hours."

Hermione frowned. "Well, let them know you're not coming."

He gritted his teeth. "I can't."

"What you can't is leave your bed, Malfoy. You're still injured."

"I have to go, I don't have another choice. I bet Voldemort did it on purpose. He wants to see how well I took his torture. If I don't show up, they'll think I'm weak."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Okay… Then I'll go with you."

He shot her a death glare. "Absolutely not."

"Absolutely yes. You're going to a party full of Death Eaters while still bearing Voldemort's runes on your back – there's no way I'm letting you go all by yourself."

"That's exactly the reason I'm going alone, Granger," he hissed. "It's too dangerous. Besides, I'll be fine. It's at Blaise's place."

"Great, means I'll be fine too," she gave him a too-sweet smile.

Malfoy sighed. "You're not letting this go, are you."

"Nope." They went silent for a bit, glaring at each other. Hermione broke the silence by asking, "What should I wear?"

He waved a hand. "Whatever you have in your closet will do."

What Hermione had in her closet did her little favors. Finally, she pulled out a muted blush-toned dress with short sleeves that she during Slughorn's party almost seven years ago. She transfigured the dress to what she believed would be "appropriate" to wear in a Death Eaters' den until it no longer resembled the original one. the dress before her after few not-so-simple spells was a long sleeved, backless slip dress in a deep emerald colour. She realized too late that perhaps taking inspiration from Malfoy's velvet dark green three-piece suit was not the best idea since now her dress looked a lot like what Slytherin girls wore to the Yule Ball.

Malfoy had told her to somehow conceal her wand, so she conjured a black-laced garter to which she fastened her wand tightly, making sure its silhouette wasn't visible through the midi skirt of the dress. When she made sure her outfit was in order, Hermione went downstairs where Malfoy was already waiting. It didn't seem he was injured at all: the velvet sat fell on him perfectly, the white shirt underneath were crisp and neat, the black dragon leather bound shoes were sharp and angular, making his stance look dangerous which it certainly was.

He looked her up and down upon entering and she saw his eyes glint darkly, although he didn't say anything. "Do you have your wand?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I attached it to my thigh."

Again, that devilish glimmer in his eyes. She wished for him to check if she was telling the truth; she imagined the way he kneeled on one leg in front of her and slowly tilt her skirts up until he reached the garter and hummed in appreciation. But he only reached out his elbow for her too hook her hand over. "We'll travel by Floo," he stated.

Hermione nodded, and they went into the fireplace. He took a handful of Floo powder and spoke the address. the Emerald ring on her finger twitched, reminding of itself. She had grown so used to it she didn't even feel it twirling or warming up because it always did as if it was a living thing. She believed the ring would protest her leaving the Manor and expected pain, but nothing happened, it only kept twitching. The flames swallowed them whole.

The stepped out of the fireplace on the other end. A marvelous giant lobby opened before them, lit up by chandeliers, adorned by vintage furniture, with tables set with food and people dressed immaculately. There were waiters carrying trays with snacks and appetizers as well as flutes of wine and champagne. Hermione always imagined this is what pureblood parties looked like, and this one, at least at first glance, did not disappoint. She couldn't help but feel uneasiness creep up her spine.

"If you see someone you know, don't talk to them and don't acknowledge them," Malfoy hissed to her, perhaps remembering their last outing. Hermione nodded, although wondering who she could possibly meet here.

They went through the lobby in small confident strides, Malfoy leading the way and her following. A few people turned and went to them to say their hellos to the High Reeve, and Hermione recognized a few of them. Most of them were men with women by their sides, their escorts perhaps. A lot of those who came to talk to the High Reeve seemed like normal people, and Hermione wouldn't be able to differentiate them in a crowd if she had to disperse monsters from heroes. Although some had that mad fire in their eyes that made Hermione want to dig herself into the ground and never get up; those people reminded her of Crabbe and Goyle, when he was still alive, and she was sure those mad-looking people kill without second thought, and not because they must, but because they enjoy it. she witnessed a similar flame in Malfoy's eyes when she saw him kill, even if that was for a reason.

Still, Hermione kept her head down, staring at her legs, while Malfoy spoke little and with a deadpan manner, looking bored as ever and wishing to be anywhere else but here. None of the conversationalist stayed to chitchat for long, even the maddest of them visibly disturbed by the High Reeve's cruel demeanor. When she saw the last three pairs of designer shoes leave her field of vision, she asked quietly, "Where is Blaise?"

"Somewhere around. I need to talk to him, and then we can leave this hellhole since I already talk to enough people to testify that I attended."

"What—" she began to ask but she another group of people come their way, and was forced to shut her mouth.

It was Crabbe and Pucey, both of them visibly drunk.

"Hey, my friend…" Crabbe drawled, getting closer to them. "Sorry, I mean… High Reeve…"

Hermione let her head down, hoping they would leave her alone, but Pucey exclaimed, "Aye, you brought your Mudblood with you!"

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Malfoy grit his teeth. "What is it?" he asked, annoyed.

"We just came to say hi," Crabbe said, hiccupping. "See, we also have some mudbloods with us…"

That seemed truth, since there were three young girls with them, all of them younger than Hermione. She recognized two of them from Hogwarts, they were muggle-borns, both of them only first years when Hermione was in her sixth year. She did the math and realized those girls weren't of legal age even in wizarding terms. She did not recognize the third girl but she could tell she was a muggle because the usual magic intrinsic ti the wizarding folk did not emanate from her. All three girls seemed frightened and scared, keeping their heads down and their shoulders slouched. Except unlike Hermione, they weren't faking their fear.

Malfoy opened his mouth to bite back, but Zabini appeared in front of them. He smiled widely but Hermione noticed the dark bluish circles under his eyes and the hard lines around his lips.

"Hey there," he said to no one in particular. Hermione gasped when she saw the young woman with him. She didn't look any different, maybe just a bit more exhausted, which you wouldn't be able to tell because the dark blue dress looked mesmerizing on her. Her blonde wavy hair were put in a fancy updo, her big eyes as kind and dreamy as ever.

"Leave us," Malfoy commanded to Crabbe and Pucey who left on wobbly legs together with their escorts. Malfoy and Zabini shook hands, and then he turned to Hermione, "How do you like the party?"

Hermione was too shaken by his partner, but she managed to answer, "All the outfits are beautiful."

Zabini laughed, although it seemed too fake to be honest. "Ah yes, the only thing witches care about these days—clothes… Mine is also obsessed with them…"

Luna Lovegood turned to Malfoy, smiling, as if the four of them were the only people in the room. "Hello," she said.

Malfoy nodded his acknowledgment. "Lovegood."

Then Luna turned to her. "Hi, Hermione."

"Hi," Hermione choked out. She tried to see if there were any injuries on her body, if the look on her face was anyhow more distorted than usual, but she saw none of it. Luna seemed a bit sad, but not broken. She didn't even act it. Maybe because she wasn't a Mudblood.

"How was it?" Zabini asked Malfoy.

Malfoy's lips settled in a hard line. "Fine." His favourite word.

"I didn't know you were… living here," Hermione said to Luna.

"Oh, yes, I've been with Blaise for four years…" she spoke distractedly. "He's been taking care of me…"

"I didn't know—that," Hermione said quietly. All this time she was sure Luna was dead and now here she stood before her, like a miracle.

"I need to talk to you," Zabini told Malfoy. "Away. From the eyes."

Malfoy nodded. Then turned to Hermione. "Stay with Lovegood. And don't wander away."

Hermione nodded, watching them leave the lobby through a door. Luna grabbed her hand and ushered her to the side.

"How are you, Hermione?" she asked, worry filling her gaze for the first time.

"I'm okay, really… I'm doing so much better than… some of the others…"

Luna nodded. "Blaise told me of all things happening at the school. I'm glad we're making progress." She spoke in abstract phrases, aware they might be listened to by anyone here.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, the progress had been great…" Then she remembered something. "Wait, Luna, you did it?"

That same dreamy expression concurred her face again. "Did what?"

"You told Blaise about—you know what… and in turn, he told… you know whom?"

What she meant to say was, You told Zabini about Ravenclaw's diadem and where to find it, and in turn, he told Harry?

Luna smiled. "Oh, yes, yes…"

"And here I was wondering how Zabini knows about Ravenclaw's legacy…" Hermione prolonged.

"Good for him, I know plenty of it, and I could tell him where to find it exactly…"

Hermione breathed out. "Thank you, Luna. You did wonders."

Suddenly Luna looked around, taking Hermione's hand again. "Come, I'll take you where we can hear them better."

Hermione didn't resist although Malfoy had told her not to wander off, but curiosity won. Luna took her out of the lobby, down the corridors, and up the stairs of Zabini's manor, until they entered a small room with minimal furniture. There was a huge neo-classical portrait of an unknown wizard on it. Luna brought a finger to her lips for Hermione to stay silent. She then opened it as a door, and a distorted image of the room below them came to view, as well as sounds coming from it. Malfoy was sitting on an armchair while Zabini walked in anxious circles. She couldn't see their faces but she could tell Zabini was a bit out of his mind.

"Please," he begged.

"I can't," Malfoy said.

"You can. You're the only one who can."

"It would put me at risk."

Zabini's head shot to Malfoy. "I would do it for you. If you needed me to keep Garnger safe, my doors would be open for her."

Malfoy's voice didn't sound affected. "Take her to Hogwarts then."

"You know that place is as safe as You-Know-Who's sodding bedroom!"

"I'm sorry, Blaise, I can't help you with that. I have my own to protect."

"They're coming for me. thye're going to take me down soon. Look what he did!" she heard a shuffling of fabris and then a small silence settled – Zabini must've shown something to Malfoy, but Hermione didn't see what it was. "If they kill me, what so you think they'll do to her?"

Hermione shivered at the implication that Voldemort hurt Zabini probably in a similar way he hurt Malfoy.

"Why don't we let Lovegood choose herself," Mafliy said. Then added in a louder voice, "Granger, I know you're listening."

She heard Luna sigh. Luna took Hermione's arm, and they appeared in the room where Zabini and Malfoy were talking. Zabini groaned when he saw the two of them.

"She's always listening…"

"I'm not leaving you behind, Blaise," Luna told him.

He looked at her as if she had just stabbed a blade through his heart. "I won't be able to protect you anymore if my disguise is revealed, Luna…."

Luna went to him, taking his hands in hers. "I don't care… I'm not leaving you. I'll fight by your side… I'll die with you if it ends this way…"

Zabini closed his eyes as if being tormented. "You don't understand…"

Luna kissed his cheek. "I understand it better than you."

Then, Malfoy stood up and went to Hermione. "You heard enough. Time for us to leave."

He grabbed her forearm and started dragging her out of the room. She didn't even get to say goodbye to Luna.

"Wait, but why can't we—why can't we take her with us? If it's safer?"

A muscle twitched in Malfoy's jaw. "Because, Granger, my home is not a safehouse for everyone and anyone."

"But it's Luna—"

"If I take her in, you and I are exposed. What do you think I could tell Voldemort, huh? That one wife is not enough, I need a second one?"

Hermione couldn't tell anything else because thye were back at the lobby. Malfoy slowed his strides and let go of her arm while Hermione tried to collect herself until they entered the fireplace.

When they were back at Malfoy Manor, she told him, "I'm sure you could think of something."

"If Blaise is right and Voldemort is coming for him, the same applies to me, Granger. Soon, there might not be a safe place for you, so I must kill Voldemort first until he got to—"

A high-pitched childlike madness filled laughter that Hermione heard only in her nightmares for the past few years pierced her hearing. They didn't even notice the woman sitting comfortably in the armchair of the same living room she tortured her. She seemed relaxed, as if she had been waiting for them for some time.

"Well, isn't it lovely to see you, Mudblood. What are you planning this time?" said Bellatrix Lestrange.