Hermione did not remember how they got back home. All she could tell for sure was the firmness of his body on hers, the feeling of his presence right next to her, and the rest didn't matter, all that was important to her was that he was there, safe, sound, and free.
They were free.
Voldemort was dead.
This still didn't seem real.
Hermione didn't want to think about it. The fact that she was alive and that she had Draco by her side was miracle in itself, and she felt the need to be grateful for it, even with a brain that wanted nothing more but to turn off.
She only gathered herself back into her consciousness when Draco somehow brought her into the bathroom without her knowledge, and the sound of the water filling the enormous bathtub made her blink back into reality. Draco's soothing arms were caressing her, softly checking for injuries. Upon noticing how out of it she was, he put his hand on her cheek, making her focus on him.
"Hey," he whispered. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, not understanding his words.
"No," she answered at last. "I think I'm in shock." This diagnosis was true, but just as the words themselves it felt very distant from Hermione.
Draco nodded as if a state of shock was to be expected after an experience like that. And perhaps it was.
"I'll help you out of your clothes and you will wash up, okay?" he asked.
Hermione grabbed his forearms instinctively. "Will you wash too?"
He watched her for a few seconds, then nodded. He was laced with ashes and his pale skin now seemed gray; Hermione knew she looked similarly disheveled.
Draco slowly took off her clothes and steadily helped her into the bathtub – he was a complete opposite of her trembling frame. She didn't know why she was trembling, why she couldn't speak more than a few words, why all of this was so hard for her to understand – but the thing about shock was that it made everything senseless.
Draco rushed to undress himself and lowered himself into the bathtub right next to Hermione who entangled herself in his arms the moment she felt the warmth of his body – and he hugged her tightly, lovingly, tenderly while she snuggled into his chest.
He washed her body with nice smelling soap, never once letting his hands wander into other territories. Hermione was glad he was taking action because she knew she was inadequate right now. He didn't ask her anything because she wouldn't be able to answer, and the little words he did speak were soothing, simple, vulnerable as if he were addressing a child. The things she got through in the last few days brought Hermione back to tabula rasa – a complete emptiness that was numbing as well as relieving.
When they were both clean, Draco dried her up with a towel and, taking her hand in his, took her to the bed, put his softest shirt on her and encouraged her to sleep which Hermione agreed to do only with him by her side.
She sank into sleep as heavily as a ship is put into the ocean for the first time ever since being built. She twitched and kicked in her sleep, fighting the drowsiness despite how exhausted she was. She dreamt of fire, of Nagini's venom running in her veins, of Voldemort's red eyes.
She woke up screaming but Draco was there to soothe her.
"Shh, it's alright, you're safe, I'm right here," he said, calming her down and kissing her forehead. When she fell asleep again, it felt light and soft, and she didn't have any nightmares.
Draco's sleeping face was the first thing she saw upon waking up, and it was the best view she could imagine. Feeling her stir up, he opened his eyes, sensitive to the slightest of movements emanating from her.
She watched his eyes that frowned with worry.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Better," she answered honestly. She realized finally what situation they were in, and there were still things she didn't want to and didn't let herself to think about, but the worst of the happenings had neatly found their drawers in her mind during sleep.
She sat up in bed and pushed a piece of blond hair out of his face with her hand. "What's next?" he asked. His face showed little discernable emotion but at least it wasn't the void she was used to.
"We tell the higher ups what happened. We tell them Voldemort is dead. And we redeem you."
She knew as she said those words that all of this was unrealistic.
"You know that's not going to happen. No one will care I killed Voldemort."
"You must have faith—"
"I don't think I need to remind you of all the things I did, Hermione."
She went silent. They watched each other for a moment. Hermione knew there was no way for him to be free and live a normal life, but she wouldn't have it any other way, because he was her life now.
"Okay," she said finally. "Then we will stay here. The Ministry doesn't know about this place, right?"
He looked at her as if he was about to shatter all her hopes, but all he said was, "No, it's not in any of the documents. I purposefully kept this place hidden, in case I needed to hide you somewhere."
"Good," Hermione said. "Means we will live here for the time being." She didn't specify believing that for the time being might be even upcoming decades. That didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were together. Draco didn't seem convinced either, but he said nothing.
They ate breakfast. They cleaned up the cottage that was a bit dusty using minimal magic since Hermione wasn't sure how fast the government of the Wizarding Britain will switch up. They might have a few days or a few weeks – but they had no way of knowing for certain.
A few days later Draco presented her with an unexpected surprise, one that made her stomach lurk. He reached out a pile of documents for her which she eyed suspiciously without taking them.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Divorce papers," he said simply.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You want to divorce me?"
His expression didn't change but she could see he was avoiding her eyes and the way the muscles in his jaw twitched betrayed his true feelings.
"It's better if you sign it."
"For whom?"
"For you."
"No, it's not better for me, Draco. Why are you doing this?"
He finally looked into her eyes. "Because you shouldn't associate yourself with me."
Hermione huffed, "It's too bad that I'm already more than associated with you, so divorcing now won't do a thing."
She watched the way Draco's entire expression darkened.
"You're right," he gritted out quietly. "I should've done this weeks ago. But still, it's better than nothing. Sign it."
She stared at him. "I won't do it. I will not divorce you because I don't want to. Do you understand?"
His face suddenly turned pained. "Please, Hermione. For me."
She frowned. "No. I love you, Draco. I won't be away from you. Our lives are interlinked forever, and nothing will change that."
He still had the papers reached out toward her, saying, "Fine. But take them at least. If you change your mind."
She took the papers. And threw them into the bin where Draco couldn't see.
Days went by slowly, and Hermione could almost ignore the horrendous anxiety in her heart, she could almost pretend this was their life now – cooking, cleaning, gardening, walking by the seashore, watching the spring storms from afar while cozying up in their cottage. This could've been a perfect life. If only the threat of losing Draco any day now didn't loom over her head like the blade of the guillotine.
Draco didn't even pick up his own wand, so all the magic doing was on Hermione, and the Elder wand lay almost forgotten in one of the drawers – neither of them felt any need to use it and both of them wanted to forget about the fact it existed.
Twice a week she walked about ten miles to and from the local grocery shop to get food and other essentials, making sure to cover up her most prominent features if not magically then with the help of makeup, hairstyles, and clothes. Hermione would've loved to take Draco with her so that he wouldn't feel too isolated in the cottage all by himself, but she was too scared someone might recognize him from the newspapers where his face in the next few weeks started to take over the front pages, making Hermione more and more anxious with every day.
All the rest they did together like an old married couple – they tried out new recipes, they read together in the evenings, they went to swim in the sea when the weather got nicer, they talked about themselves, about the things they never dared to tell anyone else, aptly avoiding the topics of war. It could've been perfect if only it didn't feel so fake. It was a fantasy Hermione created that Draco was putting the highest effort to fulfill for her, but he was never truly in it, he was never fully present – and that hurt her the most – because he didn't believe it to last, but he wanted to make her happy more than he wanted to be right.
The reality of their situation would usually come out at night in the frame of nightmares which tortured them both. Hermione's nightmare were more frequent and more vivid, but they usually involved obscure things she couldn't name and forgot them almost immediately upon waking up while Draco's were sporadic and so violent that he thrashed violently in his sleep, Hermione had a hard time waking him up, and whenever he did, he spent the rest of the night up, staring and the ceiling, and Hermione, in turn, would stay awake with him.
It was only a matter of time until their plastic reality was to be shattered – whether by outside forces or by themselves.
They were making dinner one night, when suddenly Hermione saw small lights from the window in the distance where usually was only utter darkness. She recognized the lights of the wands immediately, and rushed to Draco, grabbing his arm.
"We need to Apparate from here, quickly," she hissed at him.
Draco looked down at her, not moving. "Why?" he asked, but she knew he had noticed the people outside too.
"We don't have time. Where's your wand?" she asked, tugging him to go with her, but he didn't move an inch, as solid and steadfast as a rock.
"I don't have it here," he told her simply.
"Draco, we must go, now!"
"I'm not going?"
"What? What are you saying?"
"Let them take me. I deserve it. I will tell them I forced you to do everything for me, and they won't blame you."
Hermione stared at him in disbelief. She heard a knock at the door. Draco went to open, and she followed him, fuming. She didn't recognize any of the two wizards and a witch that came in but she saw them wearing Ministry uniforms as they told them both that they came here to arrest Draco for his crimes while awaiting a trial.
"What trial?" Hermione shouted. "He was granted amnesty, he shouldn't be put on any trial!" she purposefully avoided the word innocent when talking about Draco, because he was anything but.
"The rules and regulations have changed, Ms. Granger," the witch told her. "Mr. Malfoy is to await his trial in Azkaban."
The two wizards handcuffed Draco who wasn't fighting back and didn't utter a single word during the whole interaction. He even seemed somewhat bored. Keyword: seemed.
She tried to physically rip the wizards off Draco, but he finally looked at her, addressing only her.
"Hermione, don't. Everything's going to be all right."
That stopped her from being feral but didn't stop her from crying.
She let them go, watching the way the four figures – one of them her husband – Apparated, leaving nothing behind.
The dinner for two cooking on the stove never got to be eaten.