They Apparated back to the cottage in silence, not speaking even when they were inside. Hermione's body felt feverish, and she wanted nothing more than to lay down, but there was a lot of work ahead. She met Draco's eyes. He wasn't taking his cloak off.

"I'm going," he said. "I'll find Voldemort and then kill him."

Hermione was so, so tired. But she said, "I'm going too."

"No."

Their eternal battle of wills.

"I won't risk you dying on me," he added more harshly.

"And I won't let you go off all by yourself."

"I can't be killed, remember?"

"By now, You-Know-Who already knows about your Horcrux."

"Which is why you need to stay here and keep it safe." His words sounded light but the tone in which he said it was grimly dark.

Hermione wanted to object, wanted to make it all go her way, but she was tired, her weakened body was about to slump right then and there on the floor. But of course, she couldn't ask him to wait for her to feel a little better, and in a state that she was right now, she knew she would only make it harder for him than do any good. He read the answer in her eyes which she would've never spoken into the universe.

She hated herself for it. She hated herself even more when he left. She felt empty and alone and there was no universe in her mind where the mess that was this war could resolve itself in a satisfying way – if the Order won, they would crucify Draco, and her together with him because there was no version of the end where she wouldn't stand by his side and accept all that came his way as if it were meant for her. And if Voldemort won, once more… Well… There was no happy ending for them.

Hermione never prayed but now she prayed for Draco to find Voldemort soon, preferably in the next hour, and kill him successfully at last. They did all they had to, they did it all according to "the book", according to how it was supposed to be done. If this didn't work now, nothing would.

She fell asleep and slept twelve hours away.

She awoke feeling dizzy and disoriented. There was utter darkness at the cottage, only the rot of the waves, now stronger than before, audible outside. She lit up the tip of her wand and looked around. Draco wasn't back yet.

The only thing that kept her together was that the ring on her finger was still warm, that Draco was impossible to kill and that she would do anything in her power to keep his Horcrux intact.

She couldn't bear the waiting, so she slept some more. This time Harry was the main character in her nightmares, blaming her, hating her, trying to bury her in his parents' grave. Hermione screamed, and the sound was muffled by the soil Harry was throwing on her.

She woke up with a start. It was a bit lighter outside, early morning. Draco was still away.

Something ascended out of the shadows that the corners of her bedroom were still cloaked by. She gasped but managed to keep her fright at bay when she saw Draco – strangely, she didn't hear him Apparate back.

She tried to assert if he succeeded or if he was hurt, but his body was frigid, and his face betrayed nothing.

"Well?" she broke the silence quietly.

"I can't find him," he gritted through his teeth. "He's hiding, he knows I'm after him."

Hermione felt relief – this wasn't the worst-case scenario. Trying to hide from the united power of minds of Draco and Hermione was like trying to mask bloody footsteps on fresh snow – impossible, and stupid to even try.

She stood up from the bed, ready to start brainstorming ideas, ready to wipe off that dark expression off his face. She hadn't eaten anything for the past two days, or even more, but she didn't feel hungry, and the sleep helped gather some of her strength back. She was ready to concoct a plan that could actually work. They just needed to think of all the places Voldemort might be hiding in right now—

A hiss sounded inside the cottage, so silent at first it was barely audible, but gaining momentum with every second. It sounded like a bomb about to explode, and Hermione felt Draco's body slam into her, throwing her to the ground, shielding her with his flesh. She gasped as all air whooshed out of her lungs, and she saw nothing but his white hair and pale skin.

This was it, Voldemort came for them, he will burn down the cottage and they won't have enough time to get out before it all explodes…

But instead of hearing an explosion they saw bright light. Draco leaned away a little, but still held her down, suspiciously watching the source of the light. Hermione stared ahead as the thing got a shape.

A Patronus.

A swan Patronus.

Cho.

One singular message in a soft feminine voice, almost medically calm. "Snape and Moody know Harry is dead. They killed Pansy for treason. The Order thinks she killed him. They will be coming for you as you're their next suspect."

The swan evaporated slowly.

Hermione's chest tightened. She couldn't breathe.

"No, this is not true… it's not right… Pansy didn't do anything…"

Draco didn't seem shocked or amused or even slightly surprised. "That's to be expected." She stared at him. "They don't care who it is, they're only searching for someone to blame everything on."

Hermione stood up. "I need to get there, to explain everything… I will tell them Harry was a Horcrux and that it needed to be done in order to beat You-Know-Who once and for good…"

"Granger, did you not hear what the Patronus said!" he snapped. "You're next! I am, too, but you are who they will use to get me! How do you think this will end!"

Hermione heard him but she barely understood his words. Snape wouldn't kill Pansy, she was one of his favorite students. Nothing made sense. She had to make it make sense.

"No, they just don't know, I will tell them what truly happened, I will tell them Pansy was innocent…" she mumbled, turning to go, her eyes empty, seeing nothing save for what was right before her.

"Where do you think you're going," he hissed after her.

"I will—I will go there… And I will tell them the truth, they will understand…"

"You're not going anywhere! Do you understand that they will kill you!" he shouted.

That thought was ridiculous to Hermione – the Order wouldn't kill her, they would do anything to keep her safe! She was almost as precious as Harry to them…

Only now they think she was the one who murdered him for no reason…

She turned to him. "It's going to be alright," she said, feeling little truth in her words.

He was on her the next moment, grabbing her forearm painfully. Hermione's eyes widened, and she tried to tug her hand away from his clutches, but to no avail.

"Let me go, Draco,"

"No. I won't let you go on a suicide mission."

"I messed this up, so I need to fix it."

"You didn't do anything. It's me who killed Potter. And I'm not giving in to the Order. You're not either."

"They won't hurt me," she continued stubbornly, trying to free herself from him.

"You are so incredibly, stupidly naïve, Granger!" Draco hissed. His eyes were wild. She was certain he was ready to do anything to keep her at him. She clutched her wand tightly in her other arm.

She narrowed her eyes. "Just say it – it doesn't matter to you who else gets hurt, all you care about is yourself!"

The intensity of his gaze was going to slice her head in half if she didn't work fast. "No. Not myself, Granger."

She didn't have the time to understand the meaning behind his words – or the lack thereof. She lifted her wand. Fortunately for her, Draco was defenseless.

"Stupefy!"

His eyes went wide as he slumped at her feet, unable to do anything, only watch her leave.

She found herself inside the castle, at the highs of the Astronomy Tower. She stood still for a moment, not moving, not looking around, not talking, trying to take in the silence of the castle that was unnaturally and seemed almost creepily strange. An odd type of emptiness filled her chest, and she held her wand more tightly in her hand as if it could slip from her between her fingers like an unwanted organ transplant – it still didn't feel like hers.

She looked down at the open space before her, looking down at the vast Hogwarts grounds, illuminated by pale light because the sun was there but hidden under gray clouds. She knew this is where Dumbledore died, this is where Snape had killed him. She knew this fact, but she still couldn't accept it. She couldn't accept that the same fate might be awaiting her.

She heard a familiar voice like gravel behind her, "Granger."

She turned around. Mad Eye Moody seemed just like he used to, only his posture was more tense. She tried to gather from his expressions if he was angry or disappointed or if the face he had on was just what he always looked like, but it was impossible to do so. She knew she had to say something, to explain, but when she opened her mouth, no sounds, no words came out. "Come to my office, Granger," Moody gestured for her with his cane.

She followed him inside, sitting on the chair that was surrounded by old miscellaneous things leftover from the old astronomy professor. Everything here seemed untouched, and Hermione wondered whether Moody spent his time in some other office and kept this one just for show. He sat down in front of her and stared at her with both of his eyes, inspecting, measuring, suspecting. She felt like a pupil lectured by a teacher.

"You came back," Moody drawled.

"Yes—I… I think you misunderstood what happened, Professor. I must explain it to you properly."

"You killed Potter," he interrupted her. "What is there to misunderstand?"

"That's not what happened."

"Then what happened? Tell me."

Hermione breathed in. She didn't know how to get out of this. She didn't know what to say to make the truth sound less horrible. She couldn't tell him that Draco had killed Harry because that would make him look even worse than he already seemed in Order's eyes. But she also couldn't take the full blame herself – she knew Moody's opinion on traitor's, and she didn't want to feel his wrath first hand.

Seeing that she felt dubious on answering, Moody inclined. "Well? Is Potter still alive and all that story about his death was just a ploy?"

Hermione shook her head. "He's dead but—he had to die. As long as Harry was alive, we never stood a chance of killing You-Know-Who. You know it, Professor, that's what Snape told us, remember? Harry was a Horcrux, and he had to die—"

"You-Know-Who killed Potter during the Battle of Hogwarts. End of story. Whatever else you have to say will only sound ridiculous, so stop before you make a fool of yourself, Granger."

"But you must hear me out! You-Know-Who didn't destroy the Horcrux inside Harry because it's impossible to do with a Killing curse! Just like the snake, the Horcrux inside a living being cannot be destroyed as long as its' vessel lives! If only—"

"And who told you that?"

Hermione swallowed. "Draco," she answered finally.

Moody stared at her, clearly disappointed. "Fraternizing with the enemy, eh?"

She had heard these words before, and it didn't make her any less furious this time.

"Let me remind you, professor, that you're the one who told me to marry him to save the Order, you're the one who talked me into it until I finally relented. And Draco is not the enemy. He's on our side. He wants to kill You-Know-Who as much as you and I, and he already did so much good for our cause—"

"I don't believe I need to remind you how many great and bright wizards and witches he killed, right, Granger? The people he tortured, the lives he ruined, does that mean nothing to you?" She didn't answer. "You must've spent too much time with him, but I would've never believed you would trust every single word he said. I thought you weren't stupid like that."

The last sentence echoes in Hermione's ears. "And I thought you weren't stupid enough to believe rumors and ignore straight facts even I say pile them right in front of you!" she gritted through her teeth.

Moody, naturally, was not affected by her outburst. "I thought you and Potter were best friends."

She stared down at her hands. "We are… We were…"

"Did it make you feel good when you killed him? Did it make you feel like you did the right thing? Because let me tell you, Granger, you didn't. You made a mistake. You were made to believe false things were true." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't blame you for it. Although I can imagine how good Malfoy felt killing his childhood enemy."

"If you think I killed him, why did you blame Pansy for it?"

Moody's expression turned sour. "I didn't. Snape did. She came to him, screaming and crying, saying that Malfoy took Potter away to kill him. Snape checked everywhere, not believing Parkinson because she seemed hysterical – but Potter wasn't anywhere at Hogwarts. He assumed the worst."

Hermione raised her eyebrows indignantly. "So all it takes to punish someone with death is assumptions?"

Moody shrugged. "Snape and I never shared the same consensus."

"So what are you going to do to me, then? Now that you know the truth?"

"Does the High Reeve know you're here?" Moody asked instead of answering.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Yes, why?"

"Why didn't he follow you here?" he inquired as if Draco following her to inevitable danger was self-explanatory.

"Because I stupefied him," she said, wondering to herself why she was asked all these questions.

She saw a glimpse of Moody's wand, but too late. She heard the Imperius curse but didn't register it fully. The next moment, she was a will-less creature, unable to do anything but what she was told.

Moody slid a vial across the table to her. The curse her body was trapped in told her to drink it, but the remnants of her conscious were still fighting back. Her body sat rigid and tense in the chair, she stubbornly held her hands tight by her sides because she knew that if she moved them she wouldn't be able to resist the command to drink it, drink it. She believed it was poison, or something worse, and she would rather die than taste it. She felt hot sweat running down her forehead from the exertion. Moody inspected her closely, amused by her defiance, his wand pointed at her.

"I won't kill you, you're far too precious for that," he told her. "But I need you to drink the vial. It's going to knock you out for a few hours. The news about Potter's death spread not only to us, You-Know-Who already knows about it too. It is only a matter of time until he attacks Hogwarts. Until that time, my job is to keep you here. We will use you to convince the High Reeve to stand back."

Ridiculous, Hermione thought, this was laughably ridiculous. All throughout Moody's speech she desperately tried to fight back the Imperius curse, and the words he said seemed absurd. Is that what they believed? That Draco was working with Voldemort all this time, and that somehow Hermione got confused and accidentally corrupted by the dark side? Did they actually believe threatening to kill her would stop the war?

Hermione expected a lot of things coming here, but this scenario most definitely never crossed her mind. She wanted to say out loud how stupid this plan was, how unbelievable and stretched out it was. But she couldn't speak up. She couldn't fight back anymore as well.

Hermione watched as her hand lifted involuntarily, picked up the vial, she felt how her mouth opened, how the jaw muscles stretch and felt the bitter taste of the liquid contents coat her tongue before everything went black.