Here's part two of this three part series. I hope you guys enjoy. Last chapter going up tomorrow.

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DPOV

When I opened my eyes it was to the smell of something burning.

I shot up just in time to hear a loud curse and the sound of something hitting the sink with a thud.

I leaned over the couch to see Granger in the kitchen, smoke billowing out of the now open window, as she rinsed something in the sink.

"What are you doing?" I asked, slightly bemused as I made my way into the kitchen.

Her eyes widened when she looked at me, cheeks tinted slightly pink in what I could only assume was either embarrassment or from the cold wind blowing in through the window.

"I...I was trying to cook breakfast. I'm not a very good cook, though." she admitted with a small frown, turning to shut the window.

"You could've just used magic." I said, leaning back against the counter as she attempted to unstick the burnt bacon from the pan.

"You didn't have to use magic."

I couldn't help the smug smirk that made its way onto my face, "Has Hermione Granger finally found something that I'm better at?"

"Shut up." she said, but her words held none of their usual sting. I didn't want to think about why. She kept insisting that I'd saved her, but it was really all Potter's plan. I didn't deserve any amount of her gratitude. Not after everything I'd done. What I'd stood by and watched happen. There weren't enough Obliviation spells in the world that would erase the sight of her blood spreading across the Manor floor.

Not that I deserved to forget that, anyway.

"I'm sorry for waking you. You must be exhausted." she said, giving up on the pan and turning back to face me. "I'll just conjure up some breakfast and you can rest on the couch. It'll be ready in a few minutes."

Before I could say anything - like how she was the one that'd been rescued one week ago after three months in the Manor's dungeons - she had turned away and grabbed my wand.

I resigned myself to the living room as she'd asked, picking up a book as I went.

I'd only gotten a few pages in when she joined me, various plates and trays of food trailing after her.

"I didn't know what you like..." she trailed off, motioning to the plates as she sat next to me.

I didn't say anything, instead pouring the both of us a glass of orange juice before grabbing an assortment of things she had brought in. It was clearly way too much food for two people, but I didn't comment on it.

We ate quietly for several minutes before she broke the silence.

"Would you still be helping me if the Order hadn't offered you immunity?"

I was taken aback by her question, annoyed that she'd even ask. What gave her the right, anyway?

"None of your business, Granger."

She didn't seem put off by my curt response; in fact it seemed as though she'd expected it. She didn't push the question any further, instead finishing her breakfast. It was strange, but not uncomfortable, oddly enough.

She stood a few minutes later, moving into the kitchen and busying herself with the dishes.

I picked up the book I'd been reading and found myself lost in the words for quite some time. It was only when the sound of shattering glass reached my ears that I looked up and found Granger still in the kitchen, practically in the same spot I'd seen her at least half an hour ago.

She was facing away from me, seemingly staring out the window and making no move to clean the broken bits of glass from the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked, walking into the kitchen and stopping behind her.

Again there was no response.

I stepped next to her and realized that she was gone again. Where ever she was, she didn't seem to have heard the drinking glass fall from her hands.

It made me wonder how badly the curse had really affected her mind.

And there it was again, that familiar pang of guilt when it came to her. I'd watched them torture her on more than one occasion. Not by choice, but I had been there nonetheless. I should've done something - anything, but instead I stood by silently. A coward like the rest of them.

"Granger," I tried again, resting a hand on her shoulder and shaking gently.

Suddenly she blinked, slowly, then rapidly, before forcing a smile onto her face, "Sorry, I was just thinking..."

She stepped to the side, and before I could stop her she'd stepped onto a piece of glass. The crunch was unmistakable and the immediate look of pain was just confirmation.

"Shit!" she cursed, reaching out to grab the counter while hopping on one foot. Knowing she was likely too flustered and caught off guard to maintain that for long, I stepped forward and picked her up. Her slight yelp of surprise brought a small smirk to my face as I set her down on the couch.

"I'm such an idiot." she muttered, looking around for something.

"It was an accident." I said, spotting my wand in the kitchen. She said nothing as I returned with it, crouching down in front of her.

She lifted her foot from the table so that I could get a better look. I'd been hoping to pursue a career as a healer before the war, so I'd learned a bit about first aid. It was one of the only things He'd trusted me with after my fuck up with Dumbledore.

There was a small shard of glass in the ball of her foot, but it didn't seem like it had gone too deep.

"I'll cast a numbing charm and then -"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head, "No spells, no charms. Just take it out and bandage it."

"Why?"

She glanced down at her slightly bleeding foot before looking back to me, "Sometimes...with the...episodes..." she cleared her throat and tried again, "It's nice to know that some parts of my body are still functioning as they should. It'll heal, because that's what bodies do. I just...need that reminder."

I didn't know what to say to that. It seemed as though she'd just bared a massive bit of her soul, and I had nothing of mine left to give her in return. It seemed unfair, really. I wished to find something - dug deep to try to dredge up some shred of myself that I could share with her, but came up with nothing.

So I said nothing. Instead moving to rummage around for some alcohol, bandages, and a rag.

When I returned she was staring at the wall, undoubtedly locked away in some far corner of her mind, though with a soft shake she was back.

I sat on the coffee table, lifting her foot to rest on my leg.

"This is probably going to pinch."

"I've been through worse." she said with a slight chuckle, lifting some of the tension around us.

For some reason I was hesitant to do anything to hurt her - ridiculous considering what I had let her be put through.

Before the unwavering silence could become overwhelming I placed one hand under the heel of her foot, lifting it slightly, while I brought the other hand up to grab the piece of glass.

I gave her credit, she'd tried not to make a sound, but the sharp intake of breath wasn't unnoticed. Before she could say anything, I cast a wandless spell, focusing my magic on the cut as I quickly slid the glass out.

"Oh," she said softly, "That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be."

I was surprised that she hadn't noticed the spell. It didn't exactly bode well for the state of her mind.

I doused the cut with alcohol and wiped it clean, before wrapping it in the soft white gauze I'd found in the bathroom. Satisfied with my work I set her foot back on my leg and looked over to her.

She was already watching me, though, her eyes bright in that way I remembered from school - inquisitive...curious. She was curious about -

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her cheeks flushed immediately, obviously not expecting to be caught, and looked down at her foot.

"Thank you. Who knew you could be so gentle." she joked, a small smile playing across her face.

And Salazar only knew why, but I smiled back.

HPOV

It had been exactly two weeks since Malfoy had gotten me out of the Manor when we finally received a letter from Harry. I slid open the card, and his voice rang out around the room.

I hope you're okay, Mione. We miss you so much, just know that. Please know that. We love you.

There was a slight pause, and my stomach dropped. This wasn't going to be good. What if someone else had died? Someone close? Ron? Luna? Ginny? Oh gods, what if they had lost? What if they had lost and we didn't know because we were so secluded from everything?

"...Hermione!"

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. Malfoy was shouting at me. Shouting my name.

"Huh?"

"Start it over." was all he said, motioning to the letter on the table between us.

I did as he asked, listening to Harry repeat what I'd just heard, and then -

We can't come get you. Not right now. It's too dangerous for you - both of you. Voldemort had a reason to keep you, Mione. You and I both know it. That mind of yours...it's too brilliant for him to have, and if that means we don't get to have it either...I'm willing to risk it. If anything ever happened to you...I can't lose anymore friends. I won't...Malfoy, I assume you're there as well...I'm trusting you with her life. Don't forget that. Be safe. The both of you. And I'll be in touch when I can.

The letter fluttered back down to the table, silence cloaking the room in an almost suffocating manner.

I was just expected to sit here and what? Wait out the war? Do nothing?

I felt sick. I needed air.

Before Malfoy could say anything regarding the letter I stood, pulling open the door and stepping out into what I'm sure must have been excruciatingly cold, wet snow - but for some reason I couldn't feel anything.

I didn't stop. I made it at least five more steps into the blizzard before I felt him tugging me back.

No, no, no.

"Let me go!" I shouted, unable to even hear myself over the deafening roar of the wind.

He ignored me entirely, instead hauling me over his shoulder and jogging back to the cabin.

I was extremely aware that he was furious, but I couldn't really make out what he was saying.

"...freeze to death...fucking idiot...death wish..." I could only manage to grab onto a few words at a time, clinging to them like lifeboats until I could find another.

I wasn't cold.

But I said nothing as he pulled first my, then his clothes off, shoving me towards the fireplace. I wondered why he hadn't just cast a drying spell. The wand was...on the floor by the couch -

But when I glanced over it was nowhere to be found.

And then he was in front of me again, wrapping a blanket around me, though he was still stark naked and visibly shivering. Why?

I wasn't cold.

"...brilliant, stupid witch...fucking freezing..."

He was gone again.

Harry wasn't coming.

How could he just expect me to do nothing while our friends died around us? How many people was he willing to let die for me? What made me so bloody important? So I had come up with some stupid sodding potions and some stupid sodding spells and all of a sudden everyone thinks I'm the fucking Philosopher's -

Malfoy found his wand. Suddenly I was in a ridiculously over-sized sweater, thick sweatpants, and wool socks, still snuggly tucked in the blanket. He had seemingly done the same, and dried our hair.

I suppose I had been cold.

"Potter's only doing what he thinks is best for you."

I cleared my throat, hoping I could get a grip, "He's insane if he thinks I'm worth this risk."

"You do crazy things for the people you care about. Wouldn't you do the same thing if it were him? Isn't that exactly how you ended up at the Manor in the first place? You have a funny habit of taking other people's punishments."

I looked away from him, choosing instead to glare into the fire. Of course I would do the same for Harry. He was like family. I'd been protecting him since first year - how could he possibly expect me to stop now, when he needed me most?

"How can he think I would ever want him to have to do this without me? I'm his best friend. I should be there helping -"

"You heard him. The best thing you can do to help is not get caught. And it's not like he said it was permanent. He said 'for now'."

I relaxed slightly at his words. He was right, Harry hadn't said it was for the entire war. Maybe he just needed to figure out a plan. A better plan.

Because he was right. If Voldemort ever managed to break me, every Order secret there was would be His. Was it selfish of me to want to risk that?

I didn't really know what to think.

"I'm sorry you were dragged into this." I said, managing to drag my gaze away from the fireplace and look at him, "You don't deserve to be holed up here with me, and you certainly shouldn't have to be cleaning up my messes." I said, motioning to our current position in front of the fireplace because of something stupid I'd done.

"I didn't get dragged into anything." he said, shrugging it off, "I chose to be here. I'm choosing to be here. Like it or not Granger, you just might be stuck with me for a while."

"Besides," he continued, "You heard Potty. I've been entrusted with quite the important task."

The small smirk playing on his lips didn't go unnoticed, and I couldn't help cracking a smile back.

"How are we supposed to just sit around here? Stuck in this blizzard."

He snorted, "As if either of us really believes you won't find something interesting to do. There are plenty of books around here. Spells aplenty, potions abound..." he waved his hand in the air before taking a sip of the wine he'd poured us before opening the letter.

He was probably right, there were plenty of things I could read. Maybe I could even convince him to spar with me a bit so I didn't get too rusty. It had been a long time since I'd fought in hand to hand combat.

Though now probably wasn't the best time for any of that.

"Did you hear what I was saying to you? During?" he asked, the bright flames reflecting in his eyes.

I shook my head, "Only bits and pieces."

He seemed a bit relieved, but made no further comment. Instead he stood, offering me his hand to help me up.

"It's late. You should get some sleep."

The thought of laying in the dark silence of that bedroom by myself was almost too much to think about right now.

"Could I just stay out here with you? I'll lay on the floor or -"

"Come on." he sighed, turning away from me and heading to the bedroom. He left the lights off, instead pulling back the covers and holding his hand out in invitation.

"Well come on, Granger. I'm tired."

I found myself joining him, slipping beneath the warm blankets with ease. It was strange that I didn't feel odd having Malfoy lying next to me in bed. In fact, it was more comforting than seemed appropriate for how little we knew one another.

He seemed unbothered, tucking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

The light filtered in from outside the window, a dim glow across his right cheek, nose, left eye, and forehead. A small, thin strip of light amongst a room filled with darkness.

It was funny how comfortable he seemed. I would've expected him to be rigid. Tense.

But he wasn't.

"Go to sleep, Granger." he murmured, eyes never opening.

For once I decided to listen to him.

DPOV

Four more weeks had passed, and I'd learned quite a bit about Granger. Not just her habits - like her constant bad attempts at cooking breakfast - or her small ticks - like scrunching up her nose when she read something she disagreed with - but I learned things about her past. Things she told me about. Dreams she had for the future.

It was strange. Being here with her was like being in our own little world. The war still existed, but it seemed so far away most of the time, that it hardly came up. It was less stress than I'd felt for the past two years.

Except when Potter would write. He'd asked her to try and come up with something that could help the Order. Their numbers were thinning - there were lots of deaths and even more who'd lost their minds. It was a ridiculous amount of pressure to put on her, particularly with the crucio after effects still affecting her.

She still got lost in her thoughts sometimes, though she never failed to snap out of it rather quickly when I spoke to her. I never really said anything about it, because at the very least, it didn't seem to be getting any worse.

"You know," I said, glancing over at her from my spot on the couch, the smell of burning fish filling the air, "I could teach you how to cook a few things. I think if I continue to smell all this burnt shite, my nose is going to be permanently ruined."

She rolled her eyes at my jab and retorted, "I don't need help."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped me, though she didn't look particularly amused as she tossed yet another ruined pan into the sink. She threw her arms up in what could only be described as utter frustration, but I was suddenly very aware of the small strip of skin the action uncovered. Just the smallest bit of her stomach, yet somehow it was all I could focus on.

It certainly hadn't escaped me that she was quite...attractive. Though it hadn't been an option to indulge in at Hogwarts, and now...well now it seemed even more futile than before.

But still, that small expanse of skin seemed to push all other thoughts away. Before I knew it I found myself staring at an empty space where she'd been standing. Now who was the one losing their mind?

"Do you want a drink?" I asked, moving to grab a bottle of wine from the fridge. "You can help me cook."

She nodded slowly, accepting the glass of Rosé with a small smile.

Instead of helping me, she leaned against the counter, "What would you do, if you could do anything?"

"What?" I turned to look at her, eyebrow raised, "What kind of question is that?"

"The kind you answer." she said with a shrug, downing half her wine in one go.

"Define anything."

"Like...anything. Anything not related to this war. Somewhere you'd like to go. Something you'd like to do." she said, watching me intently.

I thought over her question. What did I want to do? Being here with her like this, seeing how Bellatrix had wrecked her mind, it was hard to imagine wanting to be anywhere other than here, making sure she was ok.

I had promised Potter something the day he'd sought me out. I'd promised him that I'd protect her with my life. If Voldemort ever got her - the secrets this witch new could burn the entire Order to the ground. Potter was right when he'd said it was too dangerous for her to be out there. She'd been caught once, there was no guarantee that she couldn't be caught again.

"We could go to Switzerland. The mountains are beautiful around this time of year. And you said you wanted to learn to ski." I said absentmindedly, adding a few ingredients to the pot on the stove.

It took me a moment to realize she hadn't said anything, instead she was staring at me, mouth slightly open.

"We?"

"Huh?"

"You said we." she repeated, "We could go to Switzerland."

I shrugged, trying to play it down, "It was the first thing that came to mind. It's not as though there are many people left alive willing to spare me the time of day at this point, Granger."

Something flickered across her eyes, but before I could discern what it was, it was gone.

"I would like to ski." she agreed, "I'm sure the view is amazing."

"It's certainly something to see." I murmured, studying her under my lashes as I finished up the soup.

She was fidgeting with the stem of her wine glass, eyes darting from the glass, to me, back to the glass. She was biting her lip, and I would've loved to know what she was thinking about.

But I was worried she might slip away again, so I started talking, "This just needs to simmer for half an hour, and then it'll be ready."

She nodded, still worrying her lip between her teeth. I wasn't sure what to do, so I stepped forward, placing my thumb on her chin, freeing her lip from her teeth.

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at me, and she was so close I could've kissed her. I wanted to. I didn't want to think about why, or what it meant, I just knew that I did.

And the moment was perfect. She was pressed against the counter, cheeks flushed, eyes wide - that unruly mess of hair spiraling out around her like a goddamn halo -

Fucking hell, why did she have to be so bloody perfect?

Instead I stepped back, refilling her wine glass before handing it to her, "Come on, you said you'd tell me about the new potion you thought up."

As usual, I didn't wait for her to follow, just knew that she would. And as usual, she took her spot beside me.

"I don't know if this would work." she said, fidgeting with the hem of the sweater she wore, "I get lost sometimes and don't quite remember -"

She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable, but continued, "There are so many people Voldemort tortured and then just...just dumped somewhere. The Order always went and got them, but nothing could ever be done. Their minds were too far gone."

I nodded, I'd seen Longbottom babbling about his precious flowers before being ripped to shreds. He hadn't even known where he was. There seemed to be no limit to the damage the Unforgivables could do.

"But what if...what if you could build a wall?"

"A wall?"

She nodded, her eyes slowly getting brighter as excitement began to overtake her, "If I could perfect a potion, something like an obliviation spell but less intense. If there were a way to sequester the memories of their torture, maybe the healers' other potions would work. Maybe then they could get better."

"You'd take people's memories?"

She shook her head, "No, no of course not! It'd be like...putting them in a box. Instead of having to deal with every bit of torture you'd been subjected to, you could - with the help of a healer - slowly pick apart those memories one at a time."

"So they'd be less likely to break."

She nodded excitedly at my understanding, "What do you think?"

"Is it possible?"

She snorted, "Anything's possible. That doesn't mean it's going to be easy."

"Well you should be used to that by now, Granger."

"Fair enough." she nodded, "I'll have to see what books we have here."

I couldn't lie, it was a relief that she seemed excited about something. She hardly ever had a spark in her eye about anything anymore.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I had lost track of the number of drinks I'd had, and Granger seemed no more aware of it than I was.

After dinner we'd bounced ideas back and forth about the potion, and one drink had turned into many and...well here we were.

"What would you do, if you could do anything?" I asked, remembering her question from earlier.

Her eyes held mine for what seemed like an eternity before she said, "I would kiss you."

A slight blush did spread across her cheeks, but she didn't seem embarrassed. The alcohol seemed to have given her back some of that Gryffindor courage.

"Kiss me?" I repeated, not sure what I should say to that. She was drunk. I was drunk. She'd regret anything that happened between us.

"I would." she nodded, "I would kiss you and hope that you got the hint."

I tried to swallow the suspicious lump that had just formed in my throat, forcing it down so I could choke out, "You're drunk."

"Not that drunk." she said with a shrug, looking away from me. She was frowning slightly. What was I supposed to say to a confession like that?

I had no right to indulge in thoughts like kissing Granger. Wanting Granger. Obsessing over Granger. She was so much better than I could ever hope to be. The only thing I would ever do is drag her down further. That, if nothing else, had become apparent over the past few weeks that we'd spent here.

The truth was, I wasn't worth her time. My family had fractured her mind. I had watched it happen. How could she possibly want anything to do with me after that? This had to have been another side effect of the curse.

"I think it's time for you to go to bed." I said, changing the subject.

She rolled her eyes and leaned back, "You're just too chicken to admit that you think I'm attractive. Probably crazy, but definitely attractive. Why don't you just shag me like you did those other girls at Hogwarts?"

My eyes widened at the bluntness of her question.

"You...you're drunk."

"And if I wasn't?"

"If you weren't you wouldn't be saying any of this." I said, taking the glass from her and sending it to the kitchen.

She shook her head, apparently unbothered by the sudden loss of her drink, "And if I was?" she pressed.

"For Salazar's sake, Granger! If you weren't bloody drunk I'd kiss you back. Is that what you want to hear?"

Before she could say anything I disappeared into the bathroom. I needed a long, hot shower to calm my racing heart. It felt as though it was about to pound out of my chest if I couldn't get it under control.

The thought of her actually having any of those thoughts about me was enough to create some small glimmer of hope -

Fucking hell, I bloody wanted her.

I didn't know how long I stood under the steady stream of water, but by the time I got out it ran cold.

When I emerged from the bathroom I found her sprawled out across the bed, her breathing slow and even as she slept.

Why did she have to be so perfect?

I stood in the doorway of the room for longer than was probably appropriate before slowly sliding into bed beside her. Her body was warm. Familiar. I'd been here for six weeks straight at this point.

And on the rare, rare occasion, she would put her head on my chest and listen to my heartbeat. She'd once said the steady rhythm helped her sleep.

What was she thinking? Confessing to something like that. She didn't even know me.

Though I had shared more with her over the past few weeks then I had with any of my friends.

I forced myself not to groan audibly. This wasn't supposed to be complicated. I was keeping an eye out for her for Potter. Until he could do it himself. Because I'd promised.

But the more I'd learned about the witch, the more I'd come to actually enjoy her presence. Her conversation.

She really was brilliant. She had an answer for almost anything I asked her, and if she didn't she'd spend countless hours sifting through the seemingly endless supply of books to find it.

And when she inevitably did, she'd present all her information, a proud glint to her eye.

That was really the only reason I kept asking. She would be focused. She didn't space out. And then she just talked. Told me what she'd learned, what she thought was shite - and I could just sit and listen to her talk.

Why would she complicate everything by admitting something like that?

She was just drunk. And probably lonely. Salazar knew she'd spent weeks in a dungeon without any human contact. She was probably just confused.

And suddenly her eyes were open, still slightly dazed from sleep, as she looked at me.

"I thought you were going to sleep on the couch." she murmured, attempting to shift away from me to give me space.

For whatever reason I stopped her, tugging her over so her head rested on my chest. My hand found her waist easily, and it was almost painful how simple it seemed. How simple it felt to do this with her.

Last chapter coming up tomorrow. Leave a review and let me know what you think.