Author's Note: I was doing math homework, but a problem just REALLY didn't want to cooperate with me, so I decided to leave it alone for a while and edit a new chapter for you guys! Yay.

Chapter 49

"So, what do you want from me?"

I'm relieved to rest my legs. I thought I'd collapse out there. Apparating here took up way too much strength. I should've asked Naree to bring me. I can't imagine what it'll take to get back home.

"I want you to tell me what's wrong with you," she says.

I glance up at her and smirk. "What makes you think something's wrong with me?"

"You put up a good act, but I can tell you're weaker than usual. Why?"

Is it that obvious? "Did I just hear you call me weak?" I say, avoiding her question.

"Don't try to distract me," she says impatiently.

"No really, it's offensive," I say. "I am not weak."

"Draco!" she snaps. "I am not in the mood for joking around with you, all right?"

The irritated look on her face bothers me more than it should, and I struggle with the urge to tell her everything she wants to know. She doesn't need to know anything about my training. No one knows, and telling her would be a dead giveaway that I'm the traitor, if she ever falls into his hands again.

No—I won't let her get caught again. It's not going to happen again.

"It's not a big deal," I tell her. "It doesn't matter."

She steps over, grabs my arms, and practically hauls me to my feet. My legs tremble, and I lose my balance for a moment, keeping firm grips on her arms to stay upright. I glare at her. What the fuck is she trying to do?

"See?" she says, as though she's proved her point. "You can hardly stand on your own!"

Fine, I guess she has proved her point.

The only strategy I have left is deny, deny, deny.

"I'm just tired," I say, shaking my head at her.

She touches my cheek, and I resist the desire to turn my face into her palm.

"I'm worried about you, Draco," she says in a quiet voice.

Fuck. I almost wish that she would go back to treating me with indifference, or even disdain. This new concern for my safety is only strengthening the attraction I feel toward her. And now that Voldemort wants to see me consistently, I have to be even more careful than before. I'm solid, except in matters concerning her, which means I'll have to cut my interaction with her to a minimum.

Maybe I shouldn't have admitted my feelings for her. If I'd told her I didn't give a shit about her, maybe she wouldn't care so much right now.

"Draco?" she says.

Returning to earth, I back up a step and move around her. "I'm fine, Hermione," I say to my bedroom door. "It's nothing I can't handle—stop worrying about me."

"You said you cared about me, didn't you?" I hear her say.

Is this her being insecure, or is she about to try to make another point? I decide not to give her a straight answer, just in case she tries to twist my words.

"You were right there, weren't you? Shouldn't you know?"

"Draco, I—"

I turn quickly and place a finger over her lips to stop her from speaking. I don't want her to say that she's developing emotions for me. The last thing I need right now is for bloody hope to start bubbling in my chest. There's no worse distraction in the world. And I can't be distracted.

"I don't have time for this," I tell her.

Her eyes burn into mine, and I almost want to pull my hand back. I can tell she's made up her mind to do something—there's that determined look in her eyes—I just can't tell what it is that she's going to do.

Then she does something that catches me completely by surprise—she kisses my finger.

A bolt of electricity travels up my arm and straight into my heart, but I don't break eye contact with her. I fleetingly wonder if she can see through to my soul.

Then her hands wrap around my lifted hand. They feel so soft, so warm. That's typical Hermione though, I guess—soft and warm. Then I scold myself. There will be no referring to her as Hermione. If I have to start hiding away every mention of her in my thoughts, it'll be far too easy to let one slip.

"I was only going to say thank you," she says.

"For what?"

She laughs lightly before responding.

"For what, you ask. For saving me when I should have died in the Forbidden Forest."

When did she figure that out? I never said a word about it. Did she recognize my mask?

"For giving me this charm that you clearly modified for my protection," she continues. "For stopping Montague when he… when he…"

Her voice falters, and I sigh. She's clearly traumatized by what could have happened—what would have happened. Sensing that she needs comfort, I reach out and pull her into my arms.

"Thank you so, so much," she whispers.

It stings me that all I have is her gratitude. Once that's gone, everything will go back to normal, I'm sure. I guess we'll be more civil toward each other.

Then she's pushing at my chest, and I let my arms fall away, expecting her to back away. But instead, she lifts herself up and presses her lips to mine.

Fuck!

I immediately grab her by the shoulders and hold her away from me.

"You have got to stop doing that."

She shakes her head and swats my hands off her shoulders. Why do I have to be so fucking weak right now? Then her lips are on mine, and I'm almost overcome by the heavenly sensation that I only feel when I'm kissing her.

No, no, no. The more memories I have of this, this blissful feeling, the harder it'll be to hide it from Voldemort—he could decide to take a peek at any given moment.

When she runs her tongue across my lips, my mind seems to clear up a little, and I try to back away from her. She steps forward with me, an arm around my neck to keep me from escaping. I try to push her away from me, but in my pitifully weakened state, I can't fight her off. I don't really want to.

God, I'm pathetic.

I try to step back again, but when she leans forward and puts some more of her weight onto me, my legs buckle, and I crash heavily to the ground.

Fuck…

She immediately gets to her feet. "Are you all right?" she asks.

Voldemort had to have been lying when he said that all pain is in the mind. This pain clearly isn't in my mind right now! Goddamn it.

"I'm so sorry," she says in a soft voice.

I slowly sit up and realize belatedly that she'd been holding out a hand to help me. But it's just as well that I didn't accept her help. I'd prayed for her to reciprocate my feelings before, but now, just as it's beginning to seem possible, Voldemort decides that he'll need me around more often.

Just my fucking luck.

"Naree," I call out hoarsely.

"Draco, what are you—" Granger begins.

Then Naree appears. "Naree told Master he should not be going anywhere," he reprimands me. "Master didn't listen."

"Shut up and take me back," I growl at him.

"No, wait just one minute," Granger protests. "What's wrong with you?"

"Naree, now!"

My direct order forces him to wrap his small hand around my wrist, and a moment later, I'm in my bedroom at the Manor. With a snap of his fingers, Naree levitates me and places me on my bed.

"Master, please, let Naree take care of you," he murmurs.

"I just need to sleep it off," I say.

Natural sleep is the best way to recover from overexertion, as long as it hasn't gone too far.

"But one night of sleep cannot be enough for Master to recover, especially if Master expects to see the Dark Lord again tomorrow night," Naree protests.

I close my eyes.

"Do what you can, then."

The room feels brighter than I'm used to. But this is, without a doubt, my room. I wave my hand, and the curtains fly shut.

Then I sit up. I do feel much better. I wonder what Naree did.

I turn my head to the left and freeze in surprise—Aunt Bella is sitting in a chair, facing the bed, asleep. It looks like she fell asleep watching over me.

Then, as though she can sense that I'm awake, she stirs.

"Ah, Draco," she says. "How do you feel?"

"Great. What are you doing here?"

"That cursed elf of yours wouldn't leave me alone until I came."

"I didn't tell him to—"

"Yes, yes, I know. He told me that you returned much weaker than you'd ever been after a session," Aunt Bella says. "What is the Dark Lord trying to teach you?"

I shake my head. "You know I can't tell you that."

She frowns. "It can't be anything simple. I know your skills very well—I don't see what could possibly exhaust them to this extent. Now… where is your wand?"

"I don't have it. He's keeping it."

She immediately looks worried. "You don't think he's planning to kill you, is he?"

I shake my head.

"You can die of overexertion," she says.

"Yes, I know. But I think I'd be dead already, if that were his intention."

"Perhaps."

She doesn't sound convinced. I wonder if I should be worried that she thinks Voldemort is trying to kill me. But it's dangerous to be around Voldemort, whether or not he's aiming to take my head off.

"Well, then," she says, getting to her feet, "I hope you earn your wand back soon."

"Thanks, Aunt Bella."

She starts for the door but pauses halfway there to turn around. "Oh, and just a warning—"

Before she can finish, the door bursts open.

"Draco!" a familiar voice crows. "I heard that you were hurt!"

Astoria Greengrass. Just what I bloody needed.

"Well, there you go," Aunt Bella says. "Never mind."

I almost laugh. I'd thought that her warning was about something much more serious, life-threatening. She was going to warn me about Astoria?

"Don't you know how to knock?" Aunt Bella says, her words directed at Astoria. "Your parents claimed that you were a lady."

Astoria flushes. "I'm sorry, Aunt Bella."

"Whoever said that you could call me 'Aunt Bella'? If I have my way, those two words will never come out of your mouth in the same breath again."

"I—I'm sorry."

Aunt Bella huffs but doesn't reply, instead heading for the exit. When she's behind Astoria, she looks back over my shoulder and winks at me.

My god, if only Potter and the Weasel—or any of the Order, for that matter—could see her now. I can imagine the way their eyes would bug out at such a playful gesture from the evil Bellatrix Lestrange. As the Dark Lord said, there's still a woman somewhere in that monster of an aunt of mine.

Then Astoria sits down on the edge of my bed, and annoyance immediately rises in my chest.

"Draco, you look so pale."

"I'm always pale," I say uninterestedly.

"Paler than usual, I mean. Are you all right?" she asks.

"I've been better."

"I want to help you."

"Thanks for the thought, but you can't. What are you doing here, Astoria?"

"Why, your parents invited me to stay over for a few days—surely they told you," she says. "My parents were absolutely delighted to hear about it."

"A few days?" I repeat.

"Yes, so that we can get accustomed to each other," she says matter-of-factly.

"I'm not going to marry you."

She looks confused for a moment. "But… but you are," she says. "Your father said—"

"I don't give a damn about what my father said."

Astoria is clearly shocked. "Draco, how can you say that? We as children must respect our parents' wishes," she says softly.

"And deny our own? Fuck that, I'm not doing it."

"You don't… like me. Is that it?"

Is she really that thick? When in the many years that we've known each other have I ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her? For fuck's sake.

"I don't care for you," I say bluntly. "I never have. I thought I made that clear a long time ago."

"But you can learn to care for me," she says. "We'll be spending the rest of our lives together."

"No, we won't. You can't make me marry you."

"I won't have to. Your father will make you."

"Not if I can help it."

"Do you really hate me that much?"

She actually sounds a little hurt.

"I don't hate you," I decide. "But that doesn't mean I'll agree to marrying you."

"Why won't you marry me, then, if you don't hate me?"

"I don't want to do it. I don't need to have a reason why."

"Of course you do," she insists. "You must have a reason."

Then a workable solution to my current dilemma regarding retrieval of the Peverell dagger occurs to me. "Will you lend me your wand?" I ask.

"For what?" she asks, surprised by the sudden topic change.

"I have to do something. It'll take just a few minutes," I say.

"All right," she says, producing her wand from a pocket of her coat and handing it over.

There's no doubt about it. She is thick as a cow.

I point her wand at her as soon as it's in my hand and Silence her. As she starts to panic, I place her under the Full Body Bind Curse, and she falls to the floor. I point my wand at the door to seal it shut.

I should only need a few minutes.

Author's Note: I'm starting to get frustrated with later chapters. There are a bunch of things I'm trying to work in, and they're refusing to fit with the plot in an order that makes sense to me. And the amount of material that I'm writing seems to be weighted heavily toward Draco's side but I wanted to keep it relatively even. Agh.

Anyway, I'm done venting. Hope you liked the chapter!