This Bitter Earth

by Ikorous

Control isn't the only thing Draco Malfoy has lost. But he will get it back. He will get everything bac

20. TWENTY

Hey, remember how I said the chapters were going to get shorter as we got closer to the end? Well, I sure am glad y'all like liars because here is another long one for you.

I would like to pledge my eternal love and gratitude to Bree for betaing this chapter and also say thank you to Tina and Ella who told me to go dark when I wasn't sure. I know, me having a moral crisis, can you believe it?

Just a head's up, the nuclear waste is strong in this one. Might want to put on a hazmat suit.

Soundtrack- "All This Time" by ellis and "Sweet Hell" by Maiah Manser

TWENTY

.

He had half a mind to march straight down the drive and break the front doors from their hinges. It was his house now, after all; Draco could do as he pleased. But as he neared, he realized that was a stupid, foolish plan. He blamed the idea on spending too much time with Gryffindors.

He was here to get his mother away from the Dark Lord, not to start a fight he was sure to lose. He hoped his mother wouldn't argue about leaving. If she did, well… she didn't have a wand to defend herself and the imperius curse had nearly worked getting Granger out of the castle last year.

And if he saw Bellatrix this time… he thought Crookshanks might like the idea of the sectumsempra curse slicing that foul bitch open. He certainly did.

Draco slunk through the woods until he got to a tree he knew all too well and walked over the shallow grave underneath it. He stopped at the edge of the property line.

He knew what lay for him beyond it. Knew who and what were waiting on him.

And he wanted to go back.

He could turn around right now and apparate back to the coast. He could go back to the cottage, back into his girl's arms and hear her tell him how proud of him she was for turning around. Sure, he'd take a tongue lashing from her after, but then he could give her one of his own to make up for how he acted this morning. Draco stood at the edge of the grounds and could just make out the Manor cutting a striking slice against the white sky.

No sun today, but no storm clouds either; they were just pale and grey. Dead. The sky had been clear when he left this morning, bright and blue and shining. He would go back. He would.

Hope was a foolish thing, but if it had kept Granger and her friends alive, maybe… it could do something for him.

His chest tightened, forcing breaths in and out too quickly. Draco did as he was taught. By his mother.

He had to try. Draco closed his eyes.

He hoped she was unharmed.

One.

He hoped she was alive.

Two.

He really hoped she didn't still hate him.

Three.

He tightened his fist and then opened it. The silver Malfoy ring sat in the middle of his palm.

Draco's hands shook as he slipped it on his finger.

.

Hermione had taken all of thirty seconds to stare at the open door and let the shock of Draco leaving silence everything else in her head. Then the creature in her chest started roaring and the blood rushed back into her head, blocking out Harry's voice asking if she was okay and if she wanted to sit down.

She didn't. She didn't want to think about the fact that Draco was… gone.

She didn't want to think of him at all.

Hermione dove into her books, losing herself in the pages as she had so many times before. It didn't exactly work, but it did take a couple hours of the day from her. As she hid her face behind a particularly old volume, the creamy smell of parchment became unbearable and she slammed it shut, throwing it across the room.

Only a few seconds passed before she scrambled over to it, making sure she hadn't harmed the tome in her fit of… well, she wasn't sure if it was anger or pain or some poisonous mix of the two. Smoothing out the pages, Hermione realized she hadn't actually absorbed any of the information she read and with a sigh, set it on the bed. The unmade bed where she could still see the wrinkles in the sheet from Draco's body.

Hermione moved the book on top of them and closed the door behind her when she left.

She tried walking around outside, but found herself glancing in the direction that Draco had run off in and her heart pulled against the veins holding it inside her, longing to go after him. She took Bellatrix's wand from her pocket, considered it, and then went back inside.

She wasn't going to run out on the people who loved her, needed her.

She wasn't like him.

Even if she wanted to be.

Hermione trudged up the stairs, her heart weighing her down. And just for a moment, she considered giving into the millions of thoughts that wouldn't stop racing through her mind about where Draco might have gone, what he might have done, and who he might be with. He had to know that ring was sent to him on purpose, right?

But the question was, who exactly sent it to him. Hermione thought she had an idea. She hoped to high heavens that she was wrong.

"I have to try. She's my mother."

She thought about her own parents and what she would do, how she would feel if she heard one of them had died or if one of them was in danger.

Hermione knew Draco's bonds to his family ran deep; deeper than she had imagined because she had heard the hateful things his mother said to him, seen the violence his father enacted upon him, and still, as soon as his family needed him, Draco went to them.

She couldn't help but love him a little more for it. Maybe hate him a little too because why would he even want to go back to that, but… maybe it was the right thing to do. It was his family, after all and Draco did terrible things to protect the people he loved.

She knew that better than most.

Both Harry and Ron were willing to fight and die to protect the people they loved, but it was different with Draco. Even as a Death Eater he had never cared that much about the outcome of the war. He only ever wanted to keep the ones he loved safe.

Something, she was sure, his father had disapproved of and yet it was a pillar of who he was as a person. Sometimes Hermione wondered where that unshaking, deathless sense of love came from. And as she got to the top of the stairs, the answer finally came to her—it was his mother.

It had been Narcissa's accusations that had wounded him and Narcissa's pleading that stayed his hand when they had escaped the Manor.

She hoped that Draco was able to make it out again, back to her.

But if he didn't… If he couldn't come back or… chose not to…

Hermione couldn't bear to think about it. And she couldn't stop thinking about it.

She needed something to take her mind off of him.

"Ron?" Hermione had poked her head into the boys' bedroom. Ron was reading a magazine on his bed, feet kicked up and holes in his socks. "I was going to check on the polyjuice. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure!" Ron sat up and Hermione opened the small closet where she had been brewing the potion.

She crouched in front of it, stirring it smoothly. It was perfect, ready. It would need 24 hours to cool once it was bottled and then they would be able to leave.

She hoped Draco would be back before then.

Hermione glanced behind her. Ron had returned to his magazine again. She shifted just a little, making sure he couldn't see and checked the second cauldron.

It was a smaller pewter one and the potion in it was a deep, rich red. She knew Ron wouldn't recognize it by sight alone, but Hermione still made sure to block his view.

Her chest cracked a little as she folded and stirred the thick liquid. She hadn't told Draco what she was doing, wanting to surprise him with it. Now, she might not get the chance.

"Can you hand me some flasks from my bag?" Hermione asked.

Ron opened the drawer next to Harry's bed. They decided it was safer to keep the beaded bag in here, and next to Harry just in case something happened and they had to get out quickly. He was the one who needed the supplies the most. He was the one who would have to make it out.

Ron rifled through it and Hermione could hear things tumbling and knocking around. She would have to pack it again.

"What…" Ron's face fell.

"They're on the left, in that box with the leather strap around it. Be careful the plates and mugs are in there too."

Ron didn't say anything, but when he handed her the flasks he pulled his hand back from hers quickly.

Hermione ladled the polyjuice into a few vials, but saved one and filled it with the other potion. Part of her wanted to throw it out in anger, but she had spent time and ingredients making it, it would be a shame just to waste it.

Closing the closet she placed the bag on Harry's bed and started sorting through the mess Ron had made so she could put the potions away.

Something soft and cool brushed along her fingertips and Hermione opened the bag wider. It was her dress; the white slip of lace she had been wearing when they rescued her from the Manor. She had cleaned it and stuck it far down enough in the bag that she didn't think anyone would find it, but in Ron's search for the vials he must have stumbled upon it.

At least he had the decency not to mention it.

Hermione tucked the potions away and cinched the bag closed. Sighing she sunk down onto Harry's bed and put her head in her hands. Back to waiting. And worrying.

The bed creaked and moved beside her.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, sounding sincere.

Hermione reached back to tie her hair up. She hadn't even brushed it this morning and her curls were wild, still tousled from last night. "No."

"I'm sorry."

Without thinking, she let out a harsh laugh. "Are you? I thought you'd be thrilled to see Draco gone."

Ron's voice lowered. "I'm sorry he did all this to you."

Hermione stared at her shoes. She was upset with Draco, definitely, but… she still wanted him to come back. She liked to think that she would intrinsically know if something happened to him, but the truth was Draco could be dead already. Or… worse.

A small part of her heart thudded with the thought that only death could keep him from her and even then it might not be enough.

So why hadn't he come back then?

Did the longer he stayed away mean he was hurt or that… that he wasn't coming back for another reason? Kenna said they wanted him to come home, had she been lying or…

"If you think about it, it's good he left," Ron said and Hermione turned towards him quickly.

"How can you say that?"

"He was never on our side. He was just here to…" Ron waved a freckled hand in front of her.

Hermione exhaled sharply. "Is that what you think of me?"

"That's what I think of him."

She rolled her eyes. "I know what you think of him, you say it every chance you get. Ever since we got here, you have been just as terrible as he is. You've never given Draco a chance."

"Yeah? You've given him too many chances! No matter what shit he does, you don't seem to care as long as he promiseshe won't do it again. Well guess what he did, Hermione? He fucking left you. Again!"

The creature in her chest stirred, growling a little. "He'll come back."

Ron let out a harsh breath. "I'm sure he will. Slimy bastard doesn't have the decency to just… stay away." He glanced at her and Hermione saw something that looked like an accusation in his eyes. "It would make all of this so much easier if he wasn't…"

She knew what he wasn't saying, what he really meant. And maybe now, without Draco here and sulking in a corner watching them, was a good time to clear a few things up.

"I know this has been an adjustment, it has for all of us."

Ron ran a freckled hand over his face.

Hermione went on. "I know you wish things were different, but…" She bit her lip as he looked over at her. "Even if they were, even if Draco wasn't here, we… we wouldn't be here either."

She fought herself from cringing. If Draco were here, he would have laughed at her sorry attempt to… reject Ron.

"Hermione," Ron took a large breath. "I don't… want that anymore."

Oh. Oh! Good! That was… good. Except, Ron was flushing a deep red and she wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. He turned away, looking out the window at the bright, blue sky.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I… I thought you might still feel—"

"I tried," he cut her off. "I really did. I tried to get past it, but… seeing you with him. Every day. Watching you… I just—can't."

Hermione's brows pulled together a little. This is what she wanted, right? Then why did it… sting?

"Well… good." Hermione said with as much steadiness as she could muster. "Good. Then we can just be… friends."

"Are we?" He turned sharply to her. "When was the last time we did anything that friends do? You're only in here with me because he's gone."

"We're in the middle of a war, Ronald, in case you've forgotten. I'm a bit preoccupied."

He kicked his feet against the floor. "Find plenty of time to spend with your boyfriend."

Urgh! These boys were going to drive her crazy! Draco thought she spent too much time with her friends, Ron thought she spent too much time with Draco, and Harry thought they had spent too much time at the cottage and wanted to go hunting horcruxes again. Now that the potion was ready, she had one less excuse to stay. Could she leave if Draco didn't come back?

She was fed up with people telling her how she should be spending her time.

"The only time I get with him is a few minutes before bed each night. I'm working when I'm in there with him, not…" she trailed off, not really wanting to say the words.

"You weren't working last night," Ron said darkly and then stood up and walked to the window. "I thought you were smart enough not to forget a fucking silencing charm."

Oh God!

Hermione stared at his back with eyes so wide they hurt. "It was muffled to start with and as soon as we realized what was happening Harry cast muffliato, but…" Ron shook his head, coppery hair sliding back and forth.

Hermione was horrified. In the heat of the moment she had completely forgotten to silence their room last night. The things Draco has said, that she had said… Oh God, oh God, oh God…

"Ron, I'm so sorry—"

"I don't ever want to hear that shit again." He turned back around, ears red and eyes bright as blue flames. Hermione nodded so fast it made her head hurt. "Do you understand me?"

She stopped.

Understand him? She was apologizing and he was… reprimanding her?

"Excuse me?"

"I've tried really hard to get past this, but… I can't. I can't, Hermione. I thought if I gave you enough time last autumn, you'd move on. I thought when I rescued you from the Manor, you'd realize. I thought being back here with your friends, your family—you'd come to your fucking senses!"

Hermione stood up.

Ron stepped forward. "But I can't do this. I can't get over the fact that you are with a Death Eater!"

"He's not a Death Eater." Her throat felt tight and hot.

"No?" Ron snorted. "Then why did he run back when You-Know-Who called for him?"

"He left because of his mum, not—"

"We saw the mark moving, Hermione. Me and Harry. Don't fucking try and deny it just because—" He stopped talking all of a sudden.

"Because what?" Hermione snapped.

Ron glared down at her. "Because you want a boyfriend. I thought you were different from other girls, that you cared about more important things than…" His face reddened until it was hard to see his freckles.

A strange cool cloud of confusion settled over her. This… wasn't happening.

The creature in her chest roared and she wasn't able to contain it any longer. She didn't want to either. "It's not my fault you're jealous!" Hermione exclaimed. It felt good to say the words. Good to shout them. Good to let out what she had been holding back for so long.

"Jealous?!" Ron's red brows shot up his freckled forehead. "I can forgive a mistake, but what you've done..." He scrunched his nose as if he was smelling something foul and let out a short, harsh breath.

Hermione was at a loss for words. Shock and surprise rocked through her.

Ron's cheeks splashed with red. "We're on the same side. We're working together to help Harry and to win the war. But we're not friends. Not anymore. You've made your bed, Hermione. And you let Malfoy into it."

So that was it. Ron didn't want to be friends with her anymore. Fine. Fine! But she had to admit, those words felt a little sharper than they should have.

Hermione turned and headed for the door.

"Oh sure!" Ron called behind her. "Go and stare out the window some more and mope. Maybe your Death Eater will come kidnap you again, that's what you want isn't it? That's the kind of shit you're into!"

If Hermione's hand twitched towards Bellatrix's wand in her pocket. If it had been her own, or Draco's, one she knew she might have hexed him for that. Instead, she turned. Slowly.

"I would be careful if I was you, since we're not friends anymore." Hermione glared at him, her eyes blazing. "You should watch what you say to me."

Ron's eyes flashed with something akin to fear, then his face turned down in revulsion. "You're going to regret this one day."

Hermione turned on her heel and marched out. If she stayed another second in that room, she might actually hurt him, even without complete control of the wand.

Her legs shook as she walked into the kitchen. She couldn't even breathe right and headed outside to get some fresh air. Tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She didn't want to cry, didn't want to feel this… alone or scared. She wished Draco was here so she could lose herself in his arms, let him hold her. Let him make her feel… loved.

But Ron was right, Draco was… gone. She sat on the stoop and looked towards the beach. Her frustration with Draco bled out as the sun dipped low, turning the water red. She just wanted him back. If he came back, if they were together, they could get through whatever happened.

"Hey, are you okay?" Harry took a seat beside her.

Hermione wiped the tears pooled on her bottom lid. She really wanted people to stop asking her that.

"I heard you and Ron fighting."

"He's so obtuse!"

Harry smiled. "Hermione, you can call him a prick. I won't get mad."

"Fine. He's a… prick," she whispered and Harry laughed. The sound comforted her. "And Draco is too," she added before her throat felt too tight to talk.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let him go," Harry said quietly.

"I don't think we could have stopped him," Hermione admitted. "He would have found a way to leave."

Draco always did what he wanted and Hermione always did as she was supposed to. She waited. And hoped he wanted to come back.

Harry rubbed his hands nervously over his thighs. "I wish we could go already. How much longer until the polyjuice is ready?"

Hermione paused for a moment and then her shoulders sagged, knowing what was coming. "We will need to make sure we have everything ready, that Griphook is on board, but… we can use it in 24 hours."

"Really? That's great!"

Hermione had a hard time sharing in Harry's enthusiasm. "We use tomorrow to get everything set, and then leave the next morning. By nightfall, we could have another horcrux destroyed."

It was what they had been working towards, what she should want. But all Hermione could think about was what if Draco hadn't returned before they had to leave?

"I'm going to talk to Griphook; why don't you come back in? It's getting late."

Hermione looked down the beach one last time before placing her hand in Harry's and letting him help her up.

They walked back to the cottage, each step a struggle in the sand.

The minutes ticked by, turning into hours and Hermione began to feel exhaustion pulling at her frayed nerves. She barely ate dinner, even though she spent the whole meal staring down at her plate and avoiding looking at the other end of the table where Ron sat. She heard him scarf down his food as quickly as possible then push his chair back and stomp upstairs.

The kitchen emptied, but Hermione didn't leave. She couldn't face their empty room alone. Instead she sat on the stairs, leaning her head against the banister and drifted into a restless half sleeping state. Hermione's eyes gently closed, enveloping her in the darkness of sleep.

She was running again. Stone corridors, ones she had walked down for years sped by her. They were crumbling, falling and crashing to the ground around her. Hermione ran on, headed… somewhere. Or, to someone.

She stopped at the iron gate of the Restricted Section, pulling on the bars, screaming the password, but nothing happened.

The cage stayed locked.

Then, something moved in the darkness.

Hermione pressed her face against the bars. Slowly it came forward, blue candles floating and casting strange shadows on the ground.

She knew the shape that started to appear. Knew the long legs, the strong arms, the white blond hair.

She even knew the details of the mask that was covering his face.

"Please," she begged. "Take it off."

He reached up a single hand and pulled the metal mask off of his face.

His aristocratic features, schooled into the perfect expression of impassivity. At least on one side of his face. On the other…

White bone and black holes.

As he came closer she saw the silver eyes that had once been so bright, now dulled and… dead.

"No…"

Draco was gone, but he was still here, coming closer.

Hermione couldn't move. Terror pinned her in place.

Suddenly his hand struck out, grabbing her neck through the bars. The bones of his fingers dug into her flesh.

"MINE!"

Hermione jolted awake at the sound of the door. She pulled out Bellatrix's curved wand, just in case… in case it wasn't him.

She didn't think he would have done anything to put her in danger, but he might not have had a choice.

If Draco came back—no, when—when Draco came back. He would come back. He had to. She knew it as a stark white truth.

Because she would have gone back to him. For him.

"Draco?" Hermione said his name softly as she placed a foot on the bottom step, peering around into the kitchen.

A dark shape was rifling through the cabinets, knocking things to the floor. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had just seen that frame in her dream, tall and lean, with moonlight lit white hair sitting on top.

But she wanted to see his face. Needed to. She had been so worried, angry, and upset, but all of that was slipping away the closer she got to him. Draco had come back. For her. To her. To be with her.

"Draco," she said a bit more forcefully as she took a step inside the poorly lit room.

He didn't turn. Instead she watched him rip a piece of bread off of a loaf and slowly bring it to his mouth, as he really wasn't interested in it at all.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked. He had left first thing this morning, he probably hadn't eaten all day. Draco didn't answer, merely tore off another piece and held it in front of his face while he chewed the one in his mouth.

She had spent the entire day worried sick over him and he couldn't even answer a simple question? Seeing him here and alive allowed a bit of that anxiety to rest and made room for the anger that had been simmering inside her ever since he walked out on her this morning.

"You could at least say something."

Draco turned, leaning his tall frame against the counter and popped another piece of bread in his mouth.

His face was whole and beautiful. She squinted in the darkness. There was something… different, but… familiar about his expression. About his whole appearance. Then it hit her.

Hermione gripped the back of the chair in front of her. His hair had grown back out to its normal length. It was perfectly trimmed with a single lock falling over his brows. She blinked, taking in his clothes. They were not the ones he left in this morning; instead, Draco was dressed in a new coat covering a fresh, black uniform. The metal mask hung on his belt and his wand was tucked into a holster on his thigh.

He was wearing Death Eater robes.

"Hermione." It was more of a mockery than anything else and Hermione recognized the cruel sneer he had slipped on his face.

She took a breath and did not let her voice shake when she asked, "Where did you go?"

Draco bit off a hunk of the bread. "Home."

She had a million and one questions she wanted to ask him, but was a little scared to hear the answers.

He chewed slowly, mercury eyes sliding over her and… sizing her up. "Surprised I came back?"

"No," Hermione said stiffly and watched something slither deep behind his eyes. She added, in a softer tone, "I knew you'd come back."

Draco snorted and tossed the bread on the counter. "I didn't."

Hermione moved around the table. Draco stayed against the counter, but she watched the muscles in his neck twitch as she approached.

"Yes, you did," Hermione said quietly, but firmly, coming to a stop in front of him.

He looked away from her, but not before she caught the slightly glazed look in his eyes. For a moment she thought he was enchanted, but then he blew out a long breath and she smelled the truth on it.

Draco was drunk.

Hermione pursed her lips.

"You think," he breathed out heavily, his words coming slowly, "that you're so smart." Draco turned sharply towards her, eyes cold. "It's… simple for you, isn't it?"

He reached out a hand and ran two fingers over a stray curl. Hermione saw the silver Malfoy ring sitting on his finger again and her heart clenched. "Good and bad, right and wrong. You know it all, don't you? All right up—here."

Draco tapped a finger in the middle of her forehead and Hermione blinked sharply at the feeling. Leaning closer, he slid his hand around the side of her neck, tilting her chin up with his thumb.

"Must be nice, to be right all the time." She could smell something sweet and rich. Not firewhisky, but wine. What hadhe done when he went… home?

He had always struggled to keep his distant demeanor after he had been drinking and tonight was no different. Even in the gloom of the dark kitchen, Hermione could see the strain on his face, the emotions lying just under the surface. She could only imagine the struggle he had gone through today. What it must have been like, going back and what it had cost him to leave again. Had… he had found his mother?

Had it been too late? Is that why he was drinking?

"Draco, what happened?"

He dipped his head, causing another lock to fall across his face. "Father's dead. Mum's gone."

"Gone?" What did that mean?

"I'm the only Malfoy left." Bitterness tinged his voice.

She reached up and touched his cheek gently, finding the skin there cooled by the night air.

Draco jerked back. "What are you doing?" he asked in a rough, guarded voice.

Hermione let her hand fall to his chest, resting on the dark fabric. "I want to help you."

His eyes turned hard as granite, jaw clenched as if he was biting back words he didn't want to say.

"You want to help?" Although she could smell the sweetened wine on his breath, it did nothing to take the edge off of his tone. Hermione looked up at him, biting her lip, and nodded. She'd taken care of him in drunken stupors before and even though she didn't want to, maybe tonight she would make an exception.

Or was she giving him another chance that he didn't deserve?

Draco's face turned to stone. No trace of any emotion; pain, fear, or love in his expression at all. Just cool marble, as white and distant as the moon behind him.

"Turn around and spread your legs. I paid the price, now let me get my reward."

Cold rushed down her arms in a single second. Then he was grabbing her, turning her around and shoving her down onto the table. His hand reaching around to fumble with the button on her jeans and roughly pushing them over her backside before the zipper was even completely down.

Hermione winced as his heavy boot kicked into her ankles, spreading her legs wider and he pulled his trousers open, metal clinking lightly as his belt moved. He pressed his palm in between her shoulders, keeping her in place.

She wanted to help him, she wanted him to feel better. After the whole day of going over and over the worst scenarios in her head, she was just relieved to see him again. Whole and unharmed. Hermione could only imagine what Draco had gone through today, what he had to face going back to the Manor.

If this is what he needed right now, then… then she wanted to give it to him.

Maybe it would make her feel better too.

Hermione looked at the stairs. Everyone had been asleep for hours and hadn't even woken up by Draco's exploration for food. It would be fast, at least, and then maybe Draco would feel better. She could help him sober up and… he could talk to her, tell her what happened.

"Silence the room," she whispered and watched a hazy mist fall over the doorway as the door swung closed. It locked with a deafening click.

Hermione reached down and tried to push her knickers down, but Draco was pressing her so hard against the table that any of her movements were restricted.

He didn't seem to care though and she felt him reach between her legs and pull her knickers roughly to the side, not even bothering to take them off.

"Draco—"

"Fucking Blood Traitor…" His words were slurred. Badly. "Everyone's gone, aren't they, kitten? Everyone but you. You still…" She could feel him moving behind her and Hermione shifted a little. "You still love me."

He gave her no warning before shoving two fingers into her and Hermione stifled a cry at the rough feeling of it. Draco worked them a little, but she wasn't ready for him and they didn't get far. Hermione gasped, pulling in breath and holding it in her throat as he stretched her and she tightened around him with a flinch.

Her breath cracked in the silence as it escaped her and Draco made a noise in displeasure as he pulled them out. She heard him spit into his hand and then he was pressing them into her again.

This wasn't… like it normally was. She closed her eyes, hoping that in a moment, it would start to feel better.

It didn't.

Draco gave up on getting her wet and turned his attention to himself. Hermione could feel his hand moving behind her and braced herself for what was coming.

Draco's hand pressed in between her shoulder blades with more strength than when normally held her down. Her ribs dug into the hard wood and Hermione squirmed a little, trying to alleviate the pressure.

A low grunt was his only response and Hermione was surprised when his hand moved up to her head. It spread out over the side of her face and pushed her hard into the wooden table. She could feel the cold metal of his ring pressing into her cheek.

Hermione began to feel a terrible, awful sensation creeping up inside her. This wasn't… this wasn't what it was normally like. It wasn't even like when they first started, with a clashing of hate and shame and bodies. This was… the opposite of that.

It was as if Draco had turned into the cold statue she had always described him as.

"Draco—"

He spread his hand out to cover her face and Hermione let out a little whimper. Draco merely grabbed onto her waist, and pulled her back towards him. She felt his hips press roughly into hers, pushing the table forward and making it scrape against the floor. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the feel of him against her, but when it came her eyes flew back open.

Draco wasn't even hard.

He didn't want this anymore than she did.

As soon as the thought struck her, Hermione stiffened. She didn't want this. She wanted Draco, but… not like this.

"Draco, stop," she rasped out, her lips scratching against the surface of the table. "Stop!" Hermione cried out a little louder. "Draco—stop."

Did he… still need this? Even if he didn't seem to be enjoying himself, maybe he needed some sort of release. But, shedidn't want this; not anymore. She wanted to help him, but this wasn't it. Hermione felt a tremor run down his arm.

"This is what I get," he mumbled, leaning heavily on her. "This is what I deserve." His voice shook, full of all the emotion he had held back.

Hermione whimpered, half in pain and half in… sympathy. She had worried all day about whether or not he would come back, she didn't even stop to think what he might be feeling when he did.

His father had died. Draco didn't have the best relationship with Lucius, but… that was still his father. And he had left to go to his mother and she was… gone?

His hand softened against her face, fingers clumsily tripped over her features until he was holding it, turning it back around so she was looking at him.

"Tell me you love me."

"Let me up." Her voice was tinged with fear.

Draco's hand tightened on her waist and she winced. As soon as she did, he pulled back from her.

Hermione felt nervous as she turned, trying to situate her half off jeans and twisted knickers back.

She blinked away hot tears that were trying to spring from her eyes. It wasn't just the bruised feeling between her legs, it was everything. The fact that Draco had been so absent during… that. Where had he gone? Why wouldn't he stay with her?

Hermione felt her lip tremble as she dared to look up into his face, pale and white and… expressionless.

Like he hadn't come back at all.

He had tucked himself back in, but his trousers still hung open. He wouldn't meet her eyes, staring down at the table he had just tried to fuck her over.

Because that is what it was.

And it never had before. Even that first time, up against the stacks in the Restricted Section, there had always been something… else. More.

"Did I…" He swallowed. "Are you hurt?"

She took a shaky breath and shook her head. She was sore, but not… not hurt. At least not by that.

He reached out with the same hand that had just held her down and touched her face, his thumb grazing along her cheekbone where his ring had dug into her skin.

"Please," Draco breathed, heavy with the smothering smell of wine. "Please tell me you love me, Her-Hermione."

She wanted to. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and tell him how happy she was that he came back and was okay and that she knew he would, but…

But why did he have to come back drunk and treat her… like that? He didn't call her a Mudblood, but he had called himself a Blood Traitor which seemed… almost as bad in a way.

She wanted to talk to him about this, about all of this. What had happened just now and today and what made him drink so much. She wanted to tell him how upset she was he left and how much she worried about him. She wanted him to hold her, kiss her, and make her forget everything that had happened today.

But she couldn't do any of that when he was drunk like this. There wasn't anything she could do for him tonight. Not anymore.

"Come on, let's put you to bed."

"Are you coming with me?"

Hermione sighed and took his hand. "Yes, Draco. I'm coming with you."

"Promise?"

She paused. What exactly was he asking? She searched his face, trying to figure out an answer.

He didn't look like he had been tortured or imprisoned. It looked like they had... cleaned him up. What deal had he struck in order to return to her? And why did he have to come back like this? Do that to her? Old feelings she thought were long gone mixed strangely with new ones she didn't quite know how to name and Hermione's head hurt from the stress of it all. "I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

She turned to go, but Draco stopped her.

"Hermione—"

She was wrapped in his arms, pressed into his chest, surrounded by him. Enveloped in his strong arms. She closed her eyes and breathed in the creamy parchment of his skin, his fine clothes soft against her face.

"I'm sorry." It was muffled, but only because he had his chin resting on her shoulder and his face turned into her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't—I…"

Hermione held him back, lightly placing her hands on his back, tucking them under the coat and resting her forearms against the long muscles of his back.

He pulled her in closer, arms locked strongly around her. Hermione felt everything, everything he had held back from her pouring forth from his embrace. This, this is what he wanted. And she did too. He had come back to her for this, because here, wrapped up in each other, was the only place they were truly ever themselves. That hadn't been him. That had been whatever he had to pretend to be today. She knew the difference, she had always known who Draco reallywas.

Hermione held him back, pulling him in close to her body until she felt the buckle of his belt pressing into her leg.

"...didn't mean…" he mumbled into her shoulder, "...won't hurt you."

She couldn't help it. She had spent the whole day fighting against the emotion tightening in her throat and now that he was here, and back, she could finally let it out. "I was so scared when you left. You were gone for so long."

Draco buried his face in the crook of her neck so hard she could feel his brows furrowing. "Me too."

Something cool slipped over her collar bone. Then Draco's large frame shook with a ragged breath. Draco was crying.

His arms wrapped locked around her, holding onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Hermione sagged under his weight, but bore it the best she could.

"It's okay. You're here. You're safe." She dug her fingers into his spine. "Be here, Draco. Be with me."

After a moment the sobs stopped. He stood back up, gulping down breath. His pale cheeks were wet. Draco cupped her face in his hands and bent down, pressing his lips to hers. It was less of a kiss and more of… well she wasn't entirely sure. But Hermione let him.

He needed this and… and so did she. Her emotions were storming inside her and she felt everything she hadn't let herself feel today all at once.

It was too much, all too much and she just wanted it to go away. Draco always quieted her mind when it got too busy, but tonight… tonight he was the reason it wouldn't turn off. Still, she couldn't fight the weak part of her that just wanted to wrap herself in his arms and let them find comfort in each other.

Even if it was just for a few hours.

"Come on," Hermione said softly as he breathed in the air she exhaled. "Let's go to bed. Okay? You'll feel better after you sleep."

Hermione led him by the hand up the stairs and to their room. She pulled his coat off his shoulders and hung it on the back of the door. He laid his mask and wand on top of the dresser, staring at them with unfocused eyes. Draco didn't bother to undress any more than that, just grabbing her hand again and pulling her down on the bed with him.

He tucked her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. Once she settled in, he slid a large leg over hers and curled it around her, as if he was trying to pull her into his body. Make her a part of him.

She couldn't stop the strange feeling buried deep inside her. Was this wrong? Should she be sleeping next to him tonight? He was soaked in wine and lies and here she was, back in his arms.

Ron was a prick, but… it didn't make him wrong when he said she gave him too many chances.

Who else would she let treat her this way?

"I'm sorry," he murmured again as Hermione felt herself sinking into exhaustion. "I'm so sorry."

She uncurled her hands where they were clasped between their bodies and stroked his chest softly as a response, still feeling the sore spot where his ring had pressed into her cheek.

Draco turned his face down into the top of her head. "Please don't hate me."

Too tired to talk, Hermione merely moved her fingers against his shirt again, holding onto it. Draco sighed and Hermione closed her eyes against the sharp smell of alcohol.

She listened to his heart thumping in his chest. "I'll stop drinking. I'll be good to you. I promise," he murmured. "Forgive me. One more time. Just… one more time."

Hermione didn't answer, pretending to be asleep because… because she'd already made him a promise.

No more lies.

.

Draco woke up at dawn, staring across the room full of pale grey shadows with unseeing eyes.

Granger was nuzzled against him, where she had stayed all night. He had closed his eyes a few times, finding pockets of fitful sleep until daylight began to slowly filter in.

Draco slowly pulled his arm from around Granger and shook his sleeve back to see the mark of his Master burned into his flesh. He watched the snake writhe on his skin and the skull stare back at him with endless, empty eyes.

He breathed in, mouth dry and swallowed the sour taste of old wine still lingering on his tongue.

Or maybe, that was the taste of lies.

He wrapped his arm back around Granger, holding her tight to him again.

He hadn't been sure if he would ever get to do this again.

He had broken into his home through the conservatory, hoping to find his mother there, but instead ran into a battalion of masked Death Eaters who swarmed him, beat him, and dragged him through the halls of his Manor.

They dropped him at the Dark Lord's feet. In the fucking drawing room of all places. Immediately his eyes cut to where Granger had been on the ground then slid quickly to the spot Crookshanks' body had laid. His heart turned cold and solid, weighing too heavy in his chest and he felt it fall and… crack.

"Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. "How generous of you to join us."

Draco struggled to his knees, sitting back on them. He was restrained by magic, hands clasped behind his back while his nose bled freely into his mouth. He thought it might be broken. "You called, My Lord."

Those slitted red eyes stared down at him and Draco knew he was supposed to look away, but… couldn't. The Dark Lord had deteriorated since the last time Draco had seen him. He was ashen grey and his skin looked as thin and fragile as parchment. The black robes hung over him, covering most of his body, hiding it. Only his hands, which looked positively skeletal, were visible.

"You waited to be summoned to return? Tell me, was there a reason you stayed and instead of bringing Potter as you promised?"

Draco kept his face as stoic as he could. No one knew he had looked into Kenna's head and saw what his mother had done for him. He had promised Granger no more lies and, surprisingly, the Dark Lord had not included that particular addendum in the oath his Death Eaters swore to him.

Arrogant dick.

"The Order welcomed me in," Draco said plainly. Death Eaters hissed on either side of him. He ignored them as if they were flies. "I thought gaining Potter's trust and leading him straight to you might work since any attempt to… procure him so far as failed."

The Dark Lord watched him carefully and Draco emptied his mind, shoving thoughts and feelings behind white walls. It wouldn't do much if Lord Voldemort decided to enter his mind, but… he had to try.

"Why was the Order so eager to accept one of my Death Eaters into their ranks?"

Draco easily slipped a cruel smirk onto his face. "I beg forgiveness, My Lord." He bent his head. "I wanted it to be done when I presented it to you." He didn't like using Granger in his lies, but they all knew. This was the best way to keep her safe. "I got my hands on one of Potter's closest friends and I was… training her. To be used in your service."

A few dark chuckles sounded and Draco wanted to rip their throats out. He wanted to rip his own open for even letting the words slide past.

"Oh?"

"It didn't take long to break her down. They are weak, My Lord, but to build her back up to something I could use… I did not want to give you an unfinished product."

If the Dark Lord didn't kill him, Granger would.

"And what would one Mudblood girl do for me?"

Draco didn't even flinch. "She would have led us straight to Potter, if my aunt hadn't almost undone all the work I had accomplished. But I was able to… convince them that I was changed. That I cared for the girl. Potter has alway had a weak spot for love."

"LIAR!" Bellatrix screeched from his left.

The Dark Lord frowned, lines in his face growing deeper. "Bellatrix has relayed the events to me many times and allowed me to see them for myself."

"Traitor! For her?!"

"I said to get the fuck off my girl. She's mine."

Draco straightened his neck, hoping it would come off as confident. "Then you saw what she almost did. How she almost killed my pet project because she could not control her maddened bloodlust."

"He lies to you, My Lord!" Bellatrix stepped forward and Draco laid eyes on her for the first time. His countenance almost slipped. Here she was, the one who had marked Granger. The one who had killed Crookshanks. Draco let his rage slither into his lies.

"You nearly lost us Potter, you crazy bitch!" He spat blood in her direction. He turned back to his Master. "I said I would bring him to you, would I not? And I had him, lured him in with the girl. It was Lestrange's recklessness that allowed them to escape!"

Bellatrix's eyes widened until they looked like they might pop out of her head altogether. "He turned Blood Traitor for that girl! You saw what he'd done to her!"

Draco's jaw snapped shut. Granger had been covered in marks from their morning in bed and the lace dress was as exposing of his intentions as it was of her body.

But that was the problem with these Death Eaters and their black and white view of the world. And Draco saw everything through grey eyes.

He smirked again, licking his bloodstained teeth. "Can't blame a man for wanting a taste of something sweet."

More laughter and Draco glanced around, trying to remember the faces of the people he was going to tear apart. The loudest was his uncle Rabastan.

"Ha! You are your father's son!"

"I am no one's son," Draco snarled. He swung his head back around to face the Dark Lord. "I assure you, my loyalty has never wavered."

The truth.

Draco let it shine in his silver eyes.

"We shall see," was his Master's hissed response. "Severus."

With a wave of his hand, Draco was allowed to get to his feet. He wiped the blood off his face as best as he could as his godfather approached him.

"I tire of excuses. Search his mind. If he's lying, kill him."

Why wouldn't Lord Voldemort do it himself? Draco glanced at him as Snape unsheathed his wand. The Dark Lord was too weak, that's why. He couldn't do it.

Is that why he had Draco kill Theo? How long had he been like that? Shit… he was worse off than Potter.

Draco tensed as Snape stopped in front of him. "This is going to hurt," he sneered.

Draco swallowed back his blood. "Do your worst."

Having someone else in his head made Draco feel like he was going crazy. Snape was thorough, efficient, and above all, quick. It wasn't hard for him to find cracks in Draco's marble walls and from there exploit them. Draco did his best to push back, but Snape struck with a ferocity Draco hadn't planned on.

He could see flashes of Granger behind his eyes. There was no hiding the truth, Snape saw it all. But he turned from the more explicit memories, instead, sorting and sifting through the recent ones of Draco baring his heart to Granger, asking her to run with him, and telling her what she meant to him.

Draco was glad, in a way, that in the last few moments of his life he at least got to see her one last time. Then it hit him. He was going to die and then serve the Dark Lord as an inferius. His Master could make him kill Granger. Kill his Mother.

He had failed. Everyone.

Pain blossomed inside his skull as Snape picked his way through rubble, tossing aside things of no interest and focusing on the safehouse, what Draco had told the Order, and… Potter. Snape spent a strangely long time sifting through Draco's memories of Potter.

He tried to think of Granger. Of her big doe eyes and tawny curls. Of how her lips moved when she said she loved him. If he was going to die, he wanted her to be the last thing he saw.

Snape shoved them away. "Fool."

Draco collapsed as Snape retreated. His nose was bleeding more than before and he felt lightheaded. Having Snape invade his mind and pick it apart had left him dizzy and disoriented.

He wondered if it would hurt, dying. And if he'd feel anything once he was an inferius. He didn't think death would be able to make him stop loving Granger.

Draco waited on his knees for the verdict he knew was coming.

"He tells the truth, My Lord."

What the fuck?

"He is loyal to you." Snape bowed his head, a curtain of black, oily hair falling into his face.

What the hell was going on?!

Draco looked up and met the same bloody eyes he had seen this morning. Only this time, they were real. This was all very real and… happening.

"Heal him. I do hate to waste pure magical blood. But I will, if I must."

He was going to… live?

"You promised me Potter. You have three days."

Draco had spent the first hour of his first day just laying here with Granger. Part of him wanted to spend the next three days in bed with her, doing nothing but proving to her again and again how much he loved her.

But after last night he wasn't sure she'd let him touch her.

He had been a drunken wreck when he came back last night. He only remembered bits, but… it was enough.

He slowly pulled his arms from around her, making sure she was undisturbed and slipped out of their room to try and clean himself up in the bathroom.

He could smell the stale wine hanging on his uniform and when he splashed water onto his face, it did little for the dull thunder inside his skull, but he supposed he deserved that. He watched a long silver lock of wet hair fall in between his storm grey eyes, a shade darker than his father's. Especially now that they were dull and glazed.

Draco looked away from the mirror as quickly as he could.

Halfway down the hall Draco stopped. Potter was standing outside his door, waiting for him.

"You're back."

Draco bit his tongue against the sarcastic remark he wanted to spit out. Obviously he was back. So glad the leader of the resistance was so keenly aware of his surroundings.

"I left her once. I'm not doing it again."

And once Saint Potter was up in orphan heaven where he belonged, Draco would have Granger all to himself again.

Potter tensed. "If you run again, don't bother coming back. This isn't a vacation spot you get to lounge around in. If you're here, you're with us."

Draco clenched his jaw and said through gritted teeth, "I know whose side I'm on."

"You sure about that, Malfoy?" Potter nodded at Draco's mark.

Cold anger seeped into him. "Do you think I'd be standing here if I wasn't?."

Potter looked him over and Draco straightened himself to his full height. He was a little surprised that Potter hadn't attacked him on sight, after all, that's what his side had done.

No. Not his side. Draco didn't have a side anymore. He just had Granger.

He hoped.

It would be easy to knock Potter out, haul him outside and disapparate before anyone else was even awake. All his lies would come true if he handed over Potter.

He'd have everything he ever dreamed of; the glory, the prestige, the place in the world where he meant something.

But he wouldn't have her. He could drag Granger kicking and screaming back to his Manor, but she'd never be hisagain.

If only her precious Chosen One would kick the bucket in the next three days, everything would be solved. Unfortunately, he looked like he had a little fight left in him.

Potter had Granger's wand in his hand. At least he was still casting his own spells.

"What was he like?" Potter didn't have to elaborate. Draco knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Looked like something Granger's furball had choked up." Draco watched Potter's expression change from guarded to almost… Gross—almost fucking friendly.

"We'll talk, but I think you need to make things right with Hermione first."

"Don't tell me what to do with my girlfriend, Potter."

He shrugged, as if Draco's abrasiveness didn't bother him anymore. Or maybe he was just tired. "I'm saying that for her, not for you. She needs to know where you and her stand."

What the fuck was he talking about? Stupid scar probably left him half lobotomized. Yeah, that would explain a lot. So why did Draco feel like he was the one confused?

"Fuck off, Scarhead," Draco snapped and brushed by Potter, but didn't knock into his shoulder. He told himself that it was because his arm still hurt.

It was a legitimate reason. Or maybe… he just didn't care that much anymore.

When he walked back into the bedroom Granger was awake and dressed, perched on the edge of the bed.

She was picking at her hands in her lap, not looking at him. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Draco didn't have it in him to fire back a sarcastic remark. "What do you want me to say?"

Granger turned towards him, eyes burning like cinnamon. There was a small purple bruise on her cheek and Draco's blood stilled in his veins at the sight of it. He had done that. The image of his hand covering her face flashed in his mind and Draco cringed. "How about you start by telling me where you went when you left?"

"Home." Draco moved farther into the room, but kept his distance from her. She probably didn't want him anywhere near her after last night. His wand was still sitting in the holster on the dresser. "Do you want me to heal that for you?"

"Right now, I want you to give me more than one word answers."

"Fine."

Granger glared at him.

"Sorry."

"Are you?" she snapped.

Draco's head throbbed. "Fucking hell…"

She gave him a flat, unfeeling smile. "Well, we're up to two words now."

He turned back to the dresser and looked down at the metal mask laying there. It was freshly polished and he could see his own reflection staring back at him.

It was warped and wrong.

"I am." His mouth was dry, but he went on. "I'm sorry I left like I did and I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry I came in drunk like that."

"I thought we were past this," Granger said softly. "I was actually hopeful that things were changing."

His spine sagged. "Me too."

"Then…" She looked flustered, upset. Angry. "What happened? You ran off without even talking to me. I spent the whole day worried that you were being tortured or de—" Their eyes met and Draco had to look away. He didn't want Granger to think of him like that, rotting and ruined. "Anything could have happened to you."

Draco couldn't meet her eyes. He just… couldn't.

"What did happen? Did you… find your—"

"I told you she's gone."

He felt Granger's eyes watching him carefully.

"My… He hid her. Or… something like that. They don't know where she is." It was for nothing. He had done all of that… for nothing. "Got himself killed over it too. Useless fuck."

He spun the Malfoy ring around his finger as something to do so that his hands wouldn't shake.

"I-I'm sorry."

He snorted. "Why? I'm not. He was half gone ever since I got him out of Azkaban." Draco turned away from her. "Should have let him rot in there and…"

"And what?"

His shoulders tensed. He could feel her watching him. He hated it. But he didn't want her to look away.

"Should have taken you last year when I had the chance and just… fucked off."

"When you imperius'd me, you mean? When you took away my free will? Is that really what you want?"

Draco turned, exasperated. "Granger…"

"I think it is. Judging by last night, at least."

Fuck. He knew they would have to hash this out. He just didn't want to.

Because he knew how this argument would end up. He'd already lost it, last night, when he pinned her down against the table.

He just hoped he hadn't lost her doing that too.

"If you ever—ever—touch me like that again—"

"Granger, I'm—"

"Don't interrupt me, Draco."

He closed his mouth.

Granger took a breath and steadied herself. Whether she was shaking from rage or emotion, he wasn't sure. Draco felt his stomach churn sickly at the sight of it when he glanced at the small purple blemish he'd left on her cheek.

He'd done that. He'd hurt her, after all the times he swore he wouldn't.

Draco swallowed hard against the corrosive bile in his throat.

"You can't treat me like that."

"I know."

"You can't come here, drunk, and expect me to… perform for you."

"I know. I'm—"

"I thought I said not to interrupt me." It wasn't a question, but a warning. Draco dipped his head, unable to keep looking at the small, purple spot on her face. "I have put up with more than my fair share of things from you, Draco. I've had enough."

He didn't even breathe. He couldn't. The shame had turned his lungs solid. Useless.

"You left, yesterday, Draco. And I didn't know if you were coming back or if you were hurt or dead or…"

He glanced up only far enough to see her hands shaking and then looked back down. His hands were trembling too; the Malfoy ring glinting in the pale morning sun.

"I was so happy when I saw you in the kitchen. And then you… I know you're hurting, I can only imagine what you went through, but… it's no excuse, Draco. You can't treat me like… like your whore just because… you…"

This time, his guilty gaze made it up to her face. Splotched with red and tears brimming in each of her doe eyes.

"I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse and raspy.

Granger merely shook her head, chestnut curls falling around her face. "The thing is, I don't know if you really are."

Draco took a step forward. "I'm so fucking sorry. Sweetheart, please—" Draco reached for her, but Granger—Hermione—turned away. A chill ran down his spine.

"You don't try. You don't try to make anything right." Her voice shook and Draco felt his throat closing. "Goodness, Draco," she spun around, chestnut curls fanning out. "You're only sorry for the things that end up hurting you too!"

"I know." The words were as surprising to him as they were to her. "I fucked up. I keep fucking up. I… I don't know how to stop. But I want to." Draco's throat tightened. "I don't want to get pissed anymore. I don't want to yell at you or…" His eyes flickered down to the small bruise on her cheek. "I just want.." You. No, that wasn't quite right, not anymore. "To be with you."

Granger's eyes softened slightly, but she watched him carefully, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not. He didn't like it that she knew when he was lying, but now, he was counting on it.

"Why should I believe this time is any different? I can't keep forgiving you for the same things. I know there are always circumstances and I know that we are in the middle of a war with the world against us, but… I…" She faltered and Draco's blood stilled. "I can't keep wishing and hoping. I need…" She looked around the room and Draco realized he had never seen Granger confused before. "I need you to give me proof."

He rushed forward, but stopped short at her wary expression.

"I'll do anything, Sweetheart. Just…" Draco was having a hard time thinking. Breathing. Living. His heart was beating out of control, blood flooding his veins. He didn't know what to do. He was shattering, breaking apart into a thousand pieces and he wanted to give them all to her. "Tell me how to fix this and I'll do it. I'll do anything, everything you say."

Granger looked him over before meeting his eyes once more and raised her brows a little. "Anything?"

"Everything."

For a few tense moments he didn't know if she was going to start yelling or crying. Draco just stood there, frozen in place. If Granger said she was leaving him, he didn't know what he would do.

That was a lie.

He knew exactly what he would do.

Draco glanced down at his wand, still in the holster by his mask. He quickly looked back up.

Granger was watching him.

Fuck.

Her eyes narrowed.

He picked up the hawthorn wand.

He couldn't—wouldn't—do hurt her again.

But she was the only one he'd promised that to.

"You wanted me to fight. For you. For us."

She eyed him nervously.

"I'll do it." He took another step forward, stopping in front of her. It didn't matter anymore. He'd lost everything else. All he had was her. "You want me to fight on the front lines? Fine. Call another Order meeting and I'll tell them everything that happened yesterday. If this is what you want, if this will make you happy, then… I'll do it."

Granger sucked in a sharp breath. "Do you really mean that? You'll… fight with us?"

Draco's heart thundered in his chest. He had three days and he'd be damned, more damned, if he wasn't going to spend every fucking second of them with her.

He reached up slowly, giving her time to stop him or move away if she didn't want him to touch her. But Granger stayed completely still as his hand cupped her face; his thumb grazing over the small blemish he'd left the night before.

"You'll have to… show me. Tell me what to do, but yes. I'll do anything, everything, Hermione," Draco breathed, "to keep you with me."

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of vanilla and cinnamon and trying to block everything else out. Everything but her.

"Give me a chance to make this right. I want to. Please, I won't… I swear on Salazar's watery grave I won't fail this time."

Granger looked up at him with her big, innocent eyes. He felt scared, more scared than he had when he was thrown at his Master's feet. He didn't know if he could do this.

But he would.

"Prove it," she whispered, almost as if she were scared herself. Of what this meant, of where this would send them. Or… maybe of what she was asking of him.

He'd never be the kind of man she'd deserve. The one she'd be proud to stand beside. He'd always be this; a fucked up failure. Someone who only hurt, only caused pain.

It was the only thing he was good at. Good for.

He could be this version of good. For her.

Draco took her hand and placed his wand in it, closing her fingers around the handle.

"For you, Granger. It's all for you."

.

The older Weasley and Frenchie left in the morning. They took Ollivander with them, who was looking much better than the last time Draco had seen him in the cellar. Draco stayed out of their way. That wasn't his family or friends and he had no desire to wish them well on their way out.

And he didn't want to face Ollivander again.

Still, the old man gave him an airy wave goodbye.

Granger walked them out and said her goodbyes on the beach with Scarhead and Weaselbee while Draco stood in the shaded doorway, waiting for her to come back in.

Yesterday Granger spent most of the afternoon talking to Potter, convincing him to let Draco in on whatever little scheme they had cooked up. Draco had tried to nurse his hangover with coffee and some pepper-up that he was pretty sure was expired, but didn't think things could get much worse than they already were.

That was until she came back to their room and told him that Potter had agreed, to an extent, to let Draco help. He didn't want to help. He wanted Potter to fail and die and Granger to fuck off with him and leave this whole bloody world to burn.

But he owed her. For everything he had put her through, he owed her.

When Granger and her friends came back in, the house felt… odd. Cold in a way he hadn't felt since… Well it didn't matter.

This wasn't his home and it never fucking would be.

Potter stopped in front of him. "Alright, Malfoy," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. Why hadn't he ever got some that actually fit his face? Maybe he just liked looking like some sort of tragic hero.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Is it 'share time' now?"

He could hear Granger sigh off to the side. Potter pointed to the table, motioning for him to sit down. "That depends on what you tell us."

He'd told them his mind and memories had been searched. He told them the safe house would be compromised and they would need to move. Luckily, they still thought of him as two-faced and assumed that he had lied his way in and out of the Manor.

What he didn't tell them was what had really happened.

He'd woken up to the sight of jewel encrusted eyes staring down at him from the heads of magical beasts mounted on the walls.

He was in his father's study.

Draco sat up, expecting to feel pain bloom across his face, but… he was healed. His head still hurt like a bitch though. Who had…

"Drink this."

Severus fucking Snape shoved a medicinal smelling potion under his nose.

Draco glared at him and pushed himself up off the leather couch. "If you're going to poison me, you'll have to try a lot harder than that."

Snape did not look amused. "If I wanted you dead, I would have told the Dark Lord all about your little… romance."

Draco lunged forward, grabbing Snape by the collar and shoving him next to the head of a leucrotta. The potion crashed to the floor, surely staining the rug and for a moment, Draco expected to hear his Mother berating him for it.

He shoved his forearm into Snape's throat. "You say one word about Granger and I'll—"

"Unhand me."

Draco snarled in his godfather's face.

"Draco," Snape coughed a little. "I have no intention to harm you."

Draco didn't let him up. He searched Snape's pitch black eyes, seeing… nothing. Was this what Granger saw in him when she looked at his eyes?

"Or her," Snape added and slowly, carefully, Draco pulled his arm back.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Snape adjusted his collar. "What I've always wanted," he said, eyes going dark…er. Shit, that was creepy. "To bring down the Dark Lord."

His godfather waved his wand and the broken glass repaired itself, landing on Lucius' desk. The potion, though, had already soaked into the carpet.

"You… What?" Draco hissed, glancing at the door. What Snape had just said was treasonous. Traitorous. If Draco told the Dark Lord, Snape would be put to death. But Snape had shit on him now too.

They were at a stalemate.

"Everything I have done, and yes, Draco, that includes killing Dumbledore, was in service for the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco blinked stupidly. He pulled his wand out. "You're lying. You're trying to trick me."

"I assure you I am not. I tried to help you last year so I could guide you away from your mission." Bullshit. Everyone lied to him. Everyone was against him. "There was a time when I thought you might want… a different path in life."

Draco scoffed.

Snape's eyes pierced him. "You said you did not want to fulfill the Dark Lord's command."

In the hospital wing. After Granger left him and Draco… Draco didn't want anything but to get her back. He thought Snape had been trying to slither in and steal his glory, but… could have actually been trying to help him? Give him an out?

What would have happened if Draco hadn't been an asshole and done what he always did and pushed everyone away?

"Why? Why try and help me?"

"Your mother."

Draco's stomach swooped low. "Where is she?"

"When you failed to return after the wolf was sent to you, the Dark Lord thought to use your mother to lure you out. But your father," Snape smiled wryly, "ferried her away. Altered his own memories to the point even I could not retrieve the truth from him."

Draco stood stunned.

"You were not as clever. I saw the reason you returned, and the reason it took you so long to," Snape continued. "I assume you would like to go back to Miss Granger, and for that, you will need my help."

He was… unsettled by this. By fucking all of this. Snape? The Dark Lord's closest commander was a member of the fucking Order?

"What about you then?" Draco jerked his chin forward. "Why are you doing all this?"

Snape's dark eyes glittered. "My reasons are my own."

There was something in his face, a tiredness under his eyes and heavy brow that Draco… understood.

Even if nothing about this made any fucking sense.

He nodded. "Alright, Professor. How is this going to go then?"

It took longer than he thought it would to convince Potter that Snape hadn't betrayed Dumbledore. But Draco had been on that tower too. He had seen the pleading in the old man's face and maybe… it wasn't what any of them had believed. Weasley kept interrupting when Draco tried to explain what Snape had told him. Right when Draco was about to snap at Weasley, he noticed Granger looking down and picking at her hands.

He placed his hand over hers. She jumped when the cold Malfoy ring touched her skin, then, she took his hand in hers.

Weasley didn't fucking speak after that and Draco couldn't help but feel a little smug.

"So what else did Snape say?" Potter gritted out.

He didn't really want to tell them, but Granger was holding his hand.

So he did. He told them how when he walked back downstairs, Mundungus Fletcher was tied and gagged on the floor. How his eyes bulged out of his head when he saw Draco. How Draco felt sick when the man flopped around, trying to get away from him. How Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from the bound hand that was missing a finger.

And then he told him what he did next.

He crucio'd Mundungus and fuck, if he didn't enjoy it just a little. Making someone else hurt, so he didn't. And when Draco realized that… he let a little bit of the curse curl up his arm, heating his own blood until his hand shook too badly to hold his wand anymore.

He looked straight into Potter's eyes, holding that hateful gaze because he couldn't bear to see the fucking pity in Granger's anymore.

"You tortured him."

Draco didn't say anything.

"You fucking piece of shit."

"Harry…"

"He left him there, Hermione! He left one of ours behind to save his own skin!"

"I told the Order to get him out of the field," Draco murmured. Something was coiling around his chest, making it hard to breathe. "I fucking told you—"

"Murderer." Weasley glared at him.

Draco leaned forward. "I am," he admitted. Granger squeezed his hand. "You want to know my sins, Weasley?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the faded copy of The Sacred Twenty Eight. It thudded on the table and slid to a stop. "Here they are. Look all you want, but Fletcher's name isn't in there."

Granger let out a small gasp.

Potter looked from the book to Draco carefully.

"They're not going to kill him. Not yet." Draco felt their fucking judgmental eyes on him. "They want to make an example out of him and anyone else they find like him."

"What do you mean?" Oh now Potter cared? For the past year it seemed the only thing he was interested in was running and hiding. That, and whatever scheme he had dragged Granger into. Draco had told them everything, and so far, received no information in return.

"He was smuggling Muggleborns out of the country. He was a member of the Order, a shitty one, but funnily enough that doesn't seem to matter when the Dark Lord is deciding your fate." Draco swung his head towards the ginger prick. "Don't think you can weasel your way out of this one by plastering that dumb look on your face."

"I don't put a dumb look on my face!"

"No?" Draco drawled. "So that is…" He waved a hand in Weasley's direction. "Natural?"

Weasley's skin flushed bright red and Draco caught Granger's warning glare out of the corner of his eye.

"What did they do with Mundungus?" Potter really had to ruin all of Draco's fun.

"He smuggled Muggleborns so they handed him over to the head of the Registration Committee."

"Umbridge," Potter said, as if they didn't all know already. She was in the goddamn Prophet at least once a week for the impressive measures her department had taken in such a short amount of time.

Draco was a large part of that.

"He's in the holding cells with the rest of them down in the Department of Mysteries." Draco sat back and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't gotten used to the length again.

"I'm sorry," Granger piped up. "The what?"

Draco looked around to see them all staring at him like he had just spoken in tongues.

"The holding cells? Where the Muggleborns are being detained?" Did they… did they not know?

"They're alive?!" Granger exclaimed.

"Well, yeah," Draco said obviously. "You think the Dark Lord only wants to rule over Purebloods? There's only about two hundred of us in total. Not much of a kingdom if you ask me."

Draco watched as the three bestest friends in the whole wide world exchanged looks with one another. No no no. They weren't going to rope Granger in any more of their foolhardy plans. Not while he was still here.

Draco leaned forward.

"Enough reminiscing over the good times though." He glanced at Granger. "I showed you mine, now…"

Granger bit her lip and Draco's eyes darted down to it, focusing on how the pink skin glistened. She bit down, harder.

Potter cleared his throat.

Draco let out a low breath and looked away from her. If they were really about to let him into their secret club, then he needed to pay attention. And not think about how Granger's lips looked around his cock.

Fuck, that was a hard image to get out of his head.

"Hermione, why don't you start? You're the best at explaining," Weasley offered. Draco didn't miss the strange look that passed between them. What had happened there? Whatever it was… he liked it.

Granger shifted in her seat and turned towards him.

"Draco," she said in her sweet voice. She looked at Potter and then back at him. "Do you know what a horcrux is?"

.

Draco leaned his head back against the door and looked up at the ceiling.

"I hate… every part of this plan. I hate it. I hate it so much, there are no words to describe it."

Hermione sighed. She had a feeling Draco was not going to react well to this. They had spent most of the day going over everything and about an hour ago Draco had gotten up and almost stormed out.

He still hadn't sat back down.

"Just more hate," he added, as if she needed the clarification.

"Draco," Hermione adopted the voice she used to use when Harry and Ron got distracted by Quidditch talk and stopped working on their homework. "We've been over this a million times already and… it's the best plan we've got."

"It's shit."

Harry glared at Draco. Over the last two hours where they filled Draco in on everything they had done and planned to do, Harry's patience had worn thin. She knew he took everything about the horcrux hunt personally and Draco's constant grumbling that only a Gryffindor could think of a plan this insane was not helpful.

"Then you come up with a better one," Harry snapped. Draco sneered back at him.

Good Godric, were they twelve?!

"The plan isn't… bad," Hermione interjected and watched Draco's lips turn up into a smirk at her refusal to quote him directly. "It's not an ideal situation, but we've been in worse predicaments and gotten through it."

"Really? What have done that's more stupid than breaking into Gringotts polyjuiced as the woman who tried to kill you by the way, and hoping that some fucking goblin doesn't stab you in the back while you search and entire vault for one bloody cup?"

When he put it like that, Hermione had to admit, Draco had a bit of a point.

As always, Hermione had a counter argument already bubbling in the back of her brain.

"When we went down the trap door in first year to stop… well we thought it was Snape, but it ended up being Quirrell with You-Know-Who on the back on his head, but we had no idea what we were going to find when we got down there and we were only eleven at the time."

Draco's grey eyes stormed. "You did fucking WHAT? Salazar fucking Slytherin, they should make you all wear helmets once you're sorted into Gryffindor or something, this is ridiculous!"

"It was actually quite simple when laid out logically," Hermione explained. "Each room under the school had a different challenge and we were able to work together to overcome them."

She stopped talking and looked over at Ron who was staring at something in the sink that he was standing next to. He had sacrificed himself so they could go on. Hermione wondered if he would still do that, or if… things had changed that deeply too.

"You mean to tell me," Draco said slowly, "that there is a trap door under the school? And it leads to some sort of underground system of rooms? I thought the Chamber of Secrets was down there?!" He was yelling. Again. "What is keeping that school from falling in on itself?"

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it. What was keeping Hogwarts standing?

Ron shrugged. "Magic?"

Draco snarled at him. "I fucking hate you."

Ron pulled out his wand and started forward.

Hermione stepped in between them. "Stop. Stop," she ordered, turning her head so quickly her curls spun around her. "We need everyone in unharmed and all our healing supplies for whatever comes next." She couldn't forget that Draco had his wand back and couldn't take any chances, even if she might enjoy watching Ron get a jinx to the face.

"Hermione's right," Harry said as he came to stand next to her. "We don't have time to think of a new plan. We're doing this. Tomorrow."

A jolt of anxiety stiffened her spine and she saw it flash through Draco's eyes as well.

"It won't work."

Why couldn't he just… Ugh! Why did he always have to be so… so him?

"If you don't want to help, then fine. You can stay here," Hermione snapped.

"That's not what I said," Draco quickly corrected. "It won't work how it is now. If one tiny thing goes wrong, Gringotts will be swarming with Death Eaters. The Dark Lord himself will come if he thinks Potter will be there."

"What are you saying, Malfoy? Spit it out." Harry gritted his teeth.

Draco smirked, looking like he was almost enjoying this. "You need a distraction. Or an army." His eyes gleamed like freshly polished silver. "I can give you both."

Hermione's mouth opened a little. Was… was Draco… helping? And could he really do that?

"Well, not exactly an army, but I can give you a bunch of pissed off Muggleborns who probably want to fight back."

Goodness. The Muggleborns in the Department of Mysteries. There had to be… hundreds down there! And if the Death Eaters were busy dealing with a break in at the Ministry, a security issue in Gringotts might not even make it on their radar until they were clear of the bank.

It was… "Brilliant!"

Draco grinned at her and Hermione could not stop herself from beaming back at him.

"Do you two care to explain what the hell is so great?" Ron said sullenly.

Hermione didn't even care. It was perfect! She quickly explained her conclusions to Harry and Ron. Her brain didn't stop working just because she was talking and Hermione caught herself stealing glances to Draco.

He was trying. Freeing the Muggleborns wasn't just a distraction, it was also his way of making up for what he had done to them. He… he might not be able to voice the way he felt, but his actions showed it. Draco wanted to be better. No, that wasn't quite right.

He didn't need to be better, he just needed to be… him. Without the weight and expectations. Without everything else he had been draped in since birth. Draco was turning into the man he was supposed to be all along. And Hermione was proud of him.

So very, very proud of who he was letting himself be. Even if he did still shroud it in the air of arrogant reluctance.

But… if Draco was breaking into the Ministry, then he wouldn't be with them. If something happened, he'd be on his own.

Hermione shook the thought from her head and noticed that Draco was going over a few points with Harry. It was almost enough to shock her into silence. But… not quite. She always did have another opinion to share.

"I'll go with you."

Draco stopped talking and looked at her. She watched his eyes turn molten with possessiveness and goodness… It was enough that she felt a similar sensation of warmth rush through her, seeping into the deepest parts of her.

She felt her face heat and the corners of Draco's mouth pulled up.

"Hermione, no."

"Draco shouldn't go alone. It's not fair. And you can't tell me what to do, Ron," she snapped. "I'll go where I please."

She knew Draco would like that. And… she did too. Just a little bit.

The afternoon sun caught Ron's hair, lighting it up like burnt copper. "I just mean Harry needs you. More than me." She was surprised; this not being friends arrangement they had left her not knowing where she stood with Ron. "I'll go."

"I hate to say it," Harry said, glancing at Ron, "but he's right. You're the key to getting in. I need you as Bellatrix to access the vault."

Fiddlesticks. She couldn't believe she had forgotten about that part of the plan.

"Then it's settled," Ron said quickly, before anyone could protest. "Me and Malfoy will keep them distracted while you and Harry get the cup."

Hermione looked nervously over at Draco who twisted his mouth into a cold, cruel smirk. He opened it, about to say something when Harry cut in.

"A lot of those Muggleborns aren't going to be able to fight. We can't just… leave them there for Snatchers to get again."

He was right. They didn't just have themselves to think about this time and the Order didn't have the resources to hide that many people.

"I have a place."

Hermione stared at Draco who shifted a little uncomfortably.

"I'm not sticking them in another dungeon—"

"What about a private island?"

Draco had… an island?

He sighed, as if he didn't really want to share this with them. "It's where I went last summer. After… anyway, its unplottable by anyone other than the head of the Malfoy—"

Draco stopped talking suddenly. He turned pale, paler than normal and his eyes drifted down to the ring on his hand before cutting his gaze right to Hermione.

"My mother. That's where she is!"

Hermione clasped her hands to her mouth.

"Where?" Harry asked.

"Get a map! I can scry for it." Draco said quickly.

Hermione jumped up and ran up the stairs. She brought the whole beaded bag downstairs before summoning an atlas out of it with Bellatrix's wand. It wasn't getting any easier to use, it wasn't hers, but she could force it. And she did.

The large book landed heavily on the table. Draco was already tearing through it, finally stopping on a page that showed the whole of the Mediterranean Sea.

He pulled out his wand and sliced his hand open.

"Draco!" Hermione squealed, but he didn't stop.

Draco made a fist and squeezed his blood out over the page. Once it covered a large portion off the western coast of Italy he pressed his ring down hard.

Nothing happened.

Draco tried again. And again. Swearing, he started to move it around, covering more space.

He flipped a page, squeezed a few more drops of blood onto it and pressed his ring in again.

Still no island.

"Where are you?" he muttered angrily, almost punching the book and Hermione winced at the rough treatment of it.

"Did you lose your vacation home?" Ron laughed.

Draco ignored him, trying again on a different map and cutting his hand deeper.

"Draco," Hermione pushed his wand away from his skin. A large gash ran down the middle of his palm and she felt her stomach churn sickly at the sight of it. Of course the Malfoy's private island would have to be scryed for in blood. "It's… it's not there."

"She has to be. She has to!" he gritted, pressing his ring down again over and over.

"Please," she grabbed a cloth from the counter and wrapped it around his hand. "It's not working. We'll think of something else. Don't hurt yourself."

Draco clenched his jaw and Hermione watched the muscle tighten, running down his neck and hardening his shoulders.

"That bastard," he whispered angrily.

Hermione looked from Draco to the map and back again.

"Who are you talking about?"

"My father." Draco stood up straight, his eyes storming like a hurricane. "That's why he emptied the vaults. He fucking moved it."

Draco slammed the atlas shut, making Hermione jump.

"He moved my goddamn island."

.

Thank you all sooooo much for all the support and love you've given me. It may take me a little bit longer to get the next update out (maybe three weeks instead of my normal two) because I've got some human stuff to deal with. But don't worry, the updates will still be coming.