A/N: To the reviewer who said I'd better not kill off Draco and leave Hermione to raise a child alone, all I have to say is I believe in happy endings. It just might take a bit to get there. As always; Reviews=love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Hermione shot upright, shrugging off the covers as though they were strangling her as she willed her breathing to calm.
The dream had felt so real.
Shakily, she ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her lids shut.
It had started out with memories of that night, her hand curling around her forearm that no longer bore the scars she'd been gifted.
And while that had been bad enough, it had morphed into something even more terrible.
She'd seen everyone dead at her feet.
Harry. Ron. Luna. George. Fred. Ginny. Blaise. Pansy. Theo. Her mother and father. Draco.
Draco.
Her breath hitched as her chest tightened to the point it felt her very lungs were being squeezed together.
"Breathe love."
She stiffened, his hand gently coming to rest at the small of her back. His fingers made soothing motions against her shirt, before slipping beneath to massage her skin.
"Breathe." He repeated, kissing her back once.
She closed her eyes listening to his breathing and trying to match hers.
After a moment, her eyes fluttered open feeling significantly more in control.
She caught Draco's eyes as he shifted and stepped from the bed rummaging through her bag before pulling out a calming draught and handing it over her.
She drank and settled back against his chest.
"My personal healer." She murmured weakly with a slight grin.
He shook his head.
"Ironic." he murmured, kissing her temple, "Can't even keep myself healthy."
She shook her head, unable to bring herself to contest or even respond to it.
He sighed, running his hand soothingly up and down her arm.
He didn't ask what had startled her, didn't even pry, and for her part, his silence actually prompted her next words.
"It started out in the Manor." She shivered and his arms tightened in response, "And it morphed and suddenly she was taunting me with people...and they were all dead. Everyone- my parents." She shifted to sit so that she was facing him.
"You." She murmured taking her hands and cupping his face.
She shook her head before dropping her forehead to rest on his.
"We're all safe." he murmured.
She nodded.
"But I worry. I worry all the time, and with parents." She let out a sad sort of laugh, "I guess I don't really know for sure, do I? I can only learn so much, and if something does happen...they won't have a clue."
He sighed, tiredly taking her hands into his and gripping them tight.
"You never told me how it happened."
She shook her head, letting her eyes drop to their entwined hands.
"My dad found the book you gave me." She said lowly, "He asked why I was looking into it and I...I broke down. I told them a bit about the war; that I wanted to keep them safe. I lied and said the Ministry could hide me because I was magical, but I wanted them to be safe too…"
"And?"
She looked up and her eyes locked with his.
"And my dad said to do it."
Draco was silent before he bent down and kissed her slow.
She sighed against his lips before pulling away.
"Are you worried about reversing it?" he said after a moment.
She let out a breath, marveling at how he'd managed to pick up exactly what had been bothering her when she herself was barely aware of it herself.
But then, it always seemed like he was better at loving her than she was him. He read her, read people really, better than she did.
Ironic.
More so when she took into account how he'd grown up in such a stiff and formal world.
She wondered if he felt she offered him the same level of comfort as he did her.
It was harder with him.
She could spend the rest of her life and still feel like she would never be able to reach through all the layers of him to pull that one things that was consuming his thoughts. Though, if she stopped and thought about it, it never seemed like just one thing was running around in Draco's mind.
"A bit." she finally said.
"They already had one charm on them, and I layered it with a second."
He held her close, tangling his fingers in her hair.
"I know you'll figure it out. You always do." he murmured.
She smiled weakly, closing her eyes as she relaxed in his embrace.
She wanted to believe him, but it was so incredibly hard to believe anything at the moment.
There was so much that needed to be done...so many things they had left to figure out and no way of knowing if they would in time.
She shoved it away and instead took one of his hands into hers, matching her fingertips with the corresponding ones on his.
"You know, when I got that letter saying you were Head Boy, I never imagined it would lead us here using the past and the future to end a war neither one of us wanted."
"And is that a good or bad thing?"
She let out a puff of air.
"Good." She said with her lips curling into her first genuine smile.
He smirked slightly.
He lent his head down, his lips a hair from hers.
"Good." He breathed before stealing one more kiss.
Draco woke first.
He propped his head up on his arm as he took in Hermione's sleeping form beside him. Her hair had come undone from her loose bun and was splayed out on the pillow behind her.
She looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the bundle of nerves and sorrow she'd been hours before.
He let his fingers comb through the mosaic shades of brown and auburn for a moment before he reluctantly climbed out of the bed.
He winced as his feet took his weight, and he practically hobbled into the loo for a quick shower.
It was getting harder and harder to drag himself out of the confines of bed every morning, but he still forced himself to do so.
The very idea of being bedridden sickened him.
He just had to keep pushing until the final battle and then he'd willingly submit to having a cleanse and spending the next however long needed to recuperate.
Padma wasn't happy about his choice, but she'd allowed it.
He was doing relatively well with transfusions, stable for the time being despite his easy fatigue and relatively debilitating symptoms.
The new meds helped with that; though, he hated taking them.
They clouded his mind, making his eyes glass over and his awareness dull.
Taking them in smaller doses minimized that side effect, but really there wasn't much he could do without stopping them completely.
At this point, he didn't think he could handle that.
He dressed quickly and with one last longing look at Hermione's sleeping form he slipped out from the room.
He took his time as he walked, not too fast and not too slow that he would be late to this meeting.
It wouldn't do to be that rude to the Head of the Order.
His opinion on Kingsley Shacklebolt had changed over these few meetings. He now held a begrudging respect for the man who'd helped keep the shambles of the Order safe as he struggled to rebuild over the years.
He knew the feeling was mutual to a certain degree, but that respect didn't necessarily engender trust.
Shacklebolt was still weary of him, as though his very position and actions were simply too good to be true.
He was waiting for the hat to drop so to speak.
To a certain extent so was he.
He was waiting for the tension to implode with either the Order locking him away and throwing out the key or for the Dark Lord's forces to come barreling in intent on destroying him for turning coat.
He was walking an incredibly thin line despite his efforts to weave it with several failsafes.
He paused at the door before him and knocked twice before entering and taking a seat before Shacklebolt.
He took a moment to examine the other man who looked as though he hadn't managed a decent night's sleep in the last three years.
Draco could empathize with that.
He waited for Shacklebolt to speak. He guarded himself in these meetings, and one way of doing that was simply letting the other talk and offering replies when necessary.
He had to weigh his words. He wouldn't give information without first assessing it's worth.
His leverage was all he had to hold on to.
"Someone made contact with us." Shacklebolt said, leaning forward placing his crossed arms flat on the table between them.
"Who?"
Shacklebolt eyed him for a moment before drawing in a breath.
"Lucius Malfoy."
He had to physically restrain himself from responding. Years of practice kept his face straight, but the smaller things, his tells; tightening his fists, clenching his jaw...those he worked to keep in check.
Just what was the bastard doing?
"For the last two years we've anonymously been given information. Nothing major or overly helpful, but enough to lead us to several member rescues." Shacklebolt paused before glancing over him top to bottom once more.
"He claimed to have been the informant."
Draco lent forward, mimicking the other wizard.
"It's a disturbing world." he said flatly, "Stranger things have been known to happen."
Shacklebolt seemed to consider his answer before resuming his story.
"He said he was ready to come forward seeing as his, and I quote, infuriating spawn had run to this side."
He couldn't help the smirk that spread on his lips at that wording.
Shacklebolt's brow rose, but he said nothing as he continued.
"We didn't confirm your presence, and he didn't seem to mind before he volunteered information on London's current state. Apparently, you've been kidnapped by Miss Granger, who had Mr. Nott under the Imperius Curse for months before he died during her escape."
He snorted at the story. It certainly contained his father's dramatic flare.
"A decent cover story, perhaps too convenient but it'll hold for some time."
Shacklebolt nodded as though he too had come to that very conclusion.
"He requested a meeting."
He shrugged, unsure why such a request concerned him.
"He wanted you."
Now that caused warning bells to sound in his mind. Couldn't the prick be consistent for once, stay within his sphere so that Draco could hate him properly.
Gods.
He licked his lips.
"Me?"
"Only you." Shacklebolt said, a flash of irritation clear for a second on his face.
"We'll of course send you in with two scouts who will have to stay at a safe distance away, but…"
He held his hand up, "Wait, you've agreed already?"
"You have reasons to not want to meet?"
More than you can bloody count.
He grit his teeth, knowing without a doubt that a veiled threat lay somewhere in that inquiry.
He shook his head after a moment before leveling his first stipulation on this meeting.
"I want Blaise Zabini as one of the scouts."
Shacklebolt seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding in acceptance.
"The meeting's been set for today."
Somehow that didn't surprise him at all.
He stood and straightened his clothes, picking imaginary lint from his sleeve.
"Then I suppose I should prepare."
Hermione sighed, putting down her book and pushing it slightly away from her. Her eyes drifted to the clock.
It seemed to be mocking her, the way the hands weren't moving to tell time as she felt it.
That wasn't fair though.
It wasn't the clock really that was bothering her.
Draco had left early that morning for a meeting with Kingsley while she'd been asleep, and when he'd returned she'd seen him for only a second before he said he had something he needed to do and would see her at lunch.
And it still wasn't time for lunch yet...
She let out an irritated sigh.
It was hard to let him out of her sight; like she needed visual confirmation that he was alright.
He hadn't had another episode, but the fear of one seemed to be resting on her shoulders.
He didn't seem to have that worry, or if he did, he never showed it.
She almost envied him for that.
Her eyes fell on the book in front of her.
She was sure that she knew just what needed to be done to remove the block on Harry. Hours of research into the symbol Draco had sketched and even more on the concept of magical blocks had made her confident and increased her desire to see Voldemort as nothing more than a bad dream.
The idea, the principle, the work and use of it all made it hard to see the monster as anything but brilliant.
But that didn't make him any less of a monster.
It made her wonder if that's how it had started way back in the beginning. The more she delved into the books Draco had recommended the more she realized just how vast and incredible magic really was. Draco had been right to say her view on it was too narrow.
Had that been how Voldemort saw magic? A tool instead of an entity; one that could be sharpened and wielded to do incredible but terrible things?
A shiver ran down her spine as she stood abruptly.
She didn't want to ponder such things, and the idea of being alone suddenly made her uneasy.
Gathering her hair into a ponytail, she quickly left her room lingering in the hall outside the door.
She gazed down the corridor, her eyes settling on one particular door. On impulse, she moved toward it noticing the light peeking out from the cracks of the frame. She knocked and upon hearing the grunt to enter, she pushed open the door.
Theo was laying on his bed, stretched out and staring blankly at the parchment that was lying on the table at his bedside.
"Hey." She murmured coming to sit at the foot of his bed.
He turned, shifting himself to the side to look at her. "Hi."
She smiled slightly, moving over to the head of the bed. On impulse, she reached over and combed through Theo's hair. It was a comforting gesture, and based on his melancholy mood he seemed to need it.
He shook his head against her fingers but made no protests to her actions. She watched him for a moment before leaning back.
"What's the matter Theo?"
He smirked slightly before sitting up against his headboard.
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
She smiled thinly.
"I just do."
He let out a tired sigh.
"Daphne."
She waited, leaning back on her hands.
"How is she?"
"Good. Good. And Stori's good, or better." He shook his head.
She bit her lip before taking one of her hands and clasping it over his.
He sighed again turning his hand to hold hers.
"She asked if she should come."
She said nothing, gripping her brother's hand. It was astonishing really. It still took her aback that they were siblings, and in moments like these she actually relished it. She'd never had a sibling, though she'd wanted one, and now that she had one she wanted to make sure that the time they'd never had to forge the tight knit bonds between siblings didn't affect how well they bonded now and into the future.
"I can't ask that of her. I mean Astoria's no fighter, and to ask her to leave her sister. It's selfish of me."
"Theo." She said, "She wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it."
Theo smiled slightly, looking up at her.
"I know but …"
"She wants to be here. Let her." She said.
Theo smirked, an amused look in his eye.
"You really do know everything."
She shrugged her shoulders. Theo shook his head, pulling her hand to stand.
"How's Draco?"
Seeing her face, Theo slung his arm over her shoulder as they walked slowly out of his room to the hall.
She looked up and quickly looked away.
"I worry Theo. I feel like I'm scared all the time."
Where was her Gryffindor bravery, her courage to meet everything head on? It had died, brutally. Probably a long time ago when she'd realized the world wasn't black and white and filled with gray actions on either side that could morph into horrid things.
He gripped her shoulder.
"I know. Me too."
Draco lent against the wall, his hand going to his temple to rub away at the tension that was threatening to turn into a rage of a migraine.
No matter how many times he'd turned his plans over and over in his head; convinced himself it would be fine, his stomach wouldn't settle and his anxiety only climbed.
But this is what it had come to.
He'd never really thought about what he would do if he ever saw his father and had to fight openly on the other side.
He supposed he'd figured he could stun the man and hand him to the Order while negotiating some sort of manageable sentence for him.
Despite everything, Lucius was still his blood.
No matter how much he may try to forget it.
The revelation that that same man, pureblood zealot, had been underhandedly working to gain favor with the Resistance still made him feel dizzy at the whiplash such a notion had caused him.
Lucius had claimed him as the reason, but he couldn't bring himself to accept that.
Lucius Malfoy only ever did things that would benefit him. Secure him. Profit him.
But what did he had to gain? Had he sensed that inevitably the tides would change or finally come to the realization that the world the Dark Lord had promised was no where near the world he'd envisioned?
The whole idea was so far out and yet oddly plausible...and still-
Could he really have tried to forge this new path...with him in mind?
He shoved that thought away.
It was a defense mechanism, one he was intimately familiar with that involved protection against that childish want that perhaps he'd done enough...been enough for his father only to be let down later.
He was older now. Wisened, and quite a bit more banged up than he had been then.
He'd focus on what he needed to do and nothing more.
He pushed off and resumed walking down the hall.
The fact that he was already beginning to feel tired worried him. He'd have to sleep and maybe have a few strengthening potions before he went to this so called meeting.
He rounded the corner and was pleased when the person he'd been seeking stepped out from one of the rooms.
"Blaise." He called out.
The other turned and paused waiting for Draco to reach him.
He said the necessary pleasantries and waited until he was certain they were alone and in no danger of being interrupted before he continued.
Blaise was watching him intently, his dark eyes unreadable but obviously curious at what he had to say.
"Has Shacklebolt talked to you?"
Blaise shot him a look.
"Not yet."
He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before resting it at the back of his neck.
"He's going to ask you to field a short mission. You have to accept."
He could see the mix of emotions those words had caused in his friend without even trying to study him.
That curiosity was now full blown, but entwined with that were the protests Draco had known Blaise would have.
In fact, he was sure Shacklebolt would have been counting on those protests to prompt Blaise to turning down the mission before he'd heard it, leaving him open to assign a different agent. Someone who'd report exactly what occurred and wouldn't leave Draco room to work.
And he needed that room if he hoped to get anything out of his father.
Blaise had just returned from assignment. No doubt, he'd hoped for some sort of break before his next wild goose chase. Time to relax and do things he'd prefer not to imagine on his rather innocent and airy cousin.
So he'd taken the matter in his own hands.
He explained the gist of the meeting, and by the end he could see his own thoughts on the meeting reflected in his long time friend.
Lucius could claim amnesty and willingness to help the Resistance, but that didn't mean he'd give them anything he didn't want to.
But there was something else besides doubt or disbelief in Blaise's face.
There was worry.
It made his inside squirms seeing it.
Did he really warrant that sort of emotion already?
"Mate, you sure you're up to-"
"I'll manage." He said tightly, not wanting to lie, but willing to do so if he needed too. "It's not like I have much of a choice in the matter anyway."
Those words were like bile in his mouth. How disgustingly familiar they were despite all his measures to ensure he'd never have to say them much less feel the sentiments they brought ever again.
Yet here he was saying them anyway.
Blaise let out a breath, with a tired nod signifying his agreement.
"Why me? You could have asked for Granger."
"Shacklebolt wouldn't risk her, and it's not like I want her anywhere near this when it happens." He paused to meet Blaise's eyes, "And, you're the only other Order member I trust to think before he acts."
Neither said anything for a moment, letting the silence engulf them both.
It was Blaise who eventually broke it when he spoke next.
"Draco, do you trust him to...has he given you any reason…" Blaise began trailing off as he seemed unable to formulate what he truly wanted to say.
Will you be safe?
He folded his arms, pressing them close to his chest.
Moments of his last few interactions with Lucius flashed before his eyes nearly knocking all the air out of his chest.
"He helped us out." He said softly, "And he claims to be doing this because of me."
He looked up at Blaise who was incredibly still, lost in all Draco had to say.
"But for me to believe he's doing this because he'd finally learned to be paternal," he paused unable to hide the bitterness he had with that word before he continued, "I don't think I can, but he…."
"He never hurts anyone outright. I should know right?"
He laughed bitterly.
Blaise shook his head.
"Alright mate. Alright."
He sagged in visible relief at Blaise's acquiescence before they both turned toward the eating hall.
Now, he just had to break the news to Hermione.