Chapter Four

He was deep in the woods again, ascending the trails that would lead them near the peak of the mountain they had camped at for some time last year. Checking his footing as he went, Ron began to deviate from the marked path taking them up the steep incline that would have been inaccessible without the proper muggle gear or the advantage of magic. Kicking a spot with his foot, he deemed the ground to be sturdy enough to adequately dig his heels in and lift the girls with Neville's help.

"Here we are," he directed, twisting the heels of his worn trainers down as he prepared a basket by lacing his fingers together. "Luna, you first."

Neville mirrored his stance as Luna braced her hands on their shoulders, placing her right foot first. With a push down on them she hefted herself onto the one foot, lifting her other into Ron's waiting hold. The boys worked in unison as they rose back to their full height and lifted her slight frame up to grip the edge of the drop off and hoist herself onto the plateau. Coming to stand shoulder to shoulder, they worked to raise their arms up as well, giving her the best advantage they could manage with one final push up.

When the weight he was supporting left his hands, Ron stepped back and called up, "You good?"

"Yes Ron, thank you," Luna said with her usual airiness despite the night and day they had all been suffering through.

"Good. We're about to send Ginny up, then you two help Neville and I'll Disapparate once he's up there. Come on Gin," he said, waving his sister over. "And make sure that bag is tied securely to your jeans. We'll be needing whatever is left in it. Though I reckon it isn't much anymore."

Ginny untied and retied the tasseled ends of Hermione's bag before stepping into her brother and Neville's waiting hands to be lifted just as Luna had. She helped to pull her over the side, where she positioned herself onto her stomach as well, ready to help Neville.

Ron began to help him lift up and climb up the side to join the girls when a shimmering silver blue orb shot down from the sky. An otter unfurled from the ball of light and swam around each of them as though in inspection before resting at the top of the mountain. Clapping his hand on Neville's shoulder, Ron disapparated them to the top without preamble, drawing nearer to the patronus that was most assuredly Hermione's.

"She made it," Ginny said with a mixture of awe and excitement as she stepped closer to the waiting otter. "Go on, tell us your message," she half begged.

The silvery otter only tilted its head in response, swimming around each of them as it continued to wait.

"I think it's awaiting a password or phrase," Neville observed. "Remember we started practicing that in the Room of Requirement this year so we could send news out to Potter Watch. What's something Hermione would expect us to know?"

Ron continued to stare at the patronus quizzically as the other three debated the likelihood of phrases they came up with. It had been awful after Voldemort announced Harry was dead. Everyone had waited, hoping and praying, that by some miracle Harry would drop down from Hagrid's arms, catching them all by surprise, cheating death once again. When no such event occurred, all hell broke loose for the second time across the courtyard as Death Eaters began fighting the Order members, professors, students, and all others that had come to their aid when called upon over the radio.

Spells and curses were flying everywhere as people tried to defend themselves long enough to escape, their side quickly realizing that they no longer held the advantage and needed to flee if they wanted to survive to fight another day. He had been too busy protecting his sister and trying to get her far enough back to Disapparate her to safety to keep eyes on Hermione. He regretted it when his last glimpse of her as he spun away with Ginny, was of Malfoy casting curses at a Death Eater that was ripping her back from his hold and tossing her onto the stone covered ground.

Looking at the bag tied at his sister's belt loop, Ron began to shake his head.

"I don't think it's her," he decided aloud.

"What? How? It's an otter; it has to be her," Ginny argued.

"No, because Luna or Neville would have seen her when they grabbed her bag before escaping. Hermione would not have left without it if she had managed to get away."

As he spoke the words, he became convinced his conclusion was correct. While the patronus before them was undeniably an otter, it was not Hermione's. He was sure of it, which meant...

"I think it belongs to Malfoy," he speculated.

"But that would mean..." Neville began.

"That Draco is in love with Hermione, yes," Luna replied. "He would talk about her from time to time when he would come see me in the cellars of his home. I imagine the moment he saw her at the manor, he had decided to defect even before his aunt tortured her. So Ron is correct, the password has to pertain to him and not Hermione."

"Well that's just great! What in the hell do we know about Ferret Face that would get his damn, stolen patronus to begin speaking?" Ron raged, throwing his hands up as he started to walk away.

He hadn't gotten two steps, when Draco's voice began to flow forth from the opening mouth of the otter.

"I knew you would call me 'Ferret Face' eventually, Weasel. Thanks for being predictable," Draco said, his patronus seeming to sneer like its caster would have. "Listen closely because I will not repeat this or send a second patronus for you. Go to Moors Inn in Haworth and check in under Rochester. The clerk will then direct you to a room that the squib proprietor keeps reserved solely for witches and wizards in need of escaping pursuing Death Eaters. The floo in the room will become active at 23:18 sharp and remain open for exactly five minutes. Do not miss it, as I will not lower the wards around the property again."

The otter was gone before Draco's message had even fully finished relaying itself to them. Each one of the four compared their mental notes before agreeing that they had all the details correct. Checking the time, Ron looked to the others.

"We still have a few hours if anyone wishes to debate this," he offered, hoping someone would agree with his unspoken thoughts about not trusting Malfoy.

Luna was quick to throw her full support behind Malfoy, again citing how he had cared for her while she was a prisoner, often being the one to tend to her wounds and who made sure she had been fed. Trusting in her judgment of his character, Neville sided with her, bringing their budding democracy to fifty percent. Ron looked at his sister who was gazing off at the horizon, her brow furrowed as she thought through the two options.

There had been a time when he had resented Harry for always being the leader; the face of their resistance; the one everybody else looked to for a decision. Now faced with becoming the de facto leader of their group—solely on the grounds of having already been on the run for a year—it was one more thing he was beginning to bitterly regret in the face of his best friend's death. He didn't want to lead or to be famous or be able to step out of his brothers' and Harry's shadows any longer. His place in this war was that of a loyal soldier. He knew after disappearing on them that he was not capable of holding the lives of himself and countless others in his hands. He could plan and strategize but to be the one to ultimately make the choices that could lead to someone else's death was not a role he was relishing in now that it was his.

"What are you thinking, Gin?" he prodded, the longer his sister stayed silent.

She canted her head to the side before turning to face him fully with a faint smile and sad eyes. "He really does love her doesn't he?"

"Yes he does. When he would speak of Hermione, it was clear to see. The way he would recall funny moments with her or express his worry for her safety. I really think we can and should trust him."

"I'll admit, I was taken aback in the Entrance Hall when I saw him pushing his way towards her, I was ready to curse him, but then he kissed her... He turned his back on his beliefs and his family for her," Ginny remembered aloud. With a firm nod of her head she added, "I think we should do it. We need all the help we can get, to get her and anyone else who hasn't been killed back. And who better to help than a reforming Death Eater?"

"But can we trust him?" Ron questioned, voicing more of his true feelings on the situation than he intended.

"We can trust that he doesn't want Hermione in their hands or dead."

"That does it then," he announced reluctantly. "Let's begin making our way to Haworth. Neville, you take Luna, and I'll take my sister. We'll start with a jump to Muggle Edinburgh and the apparition spot by the train station. Be ready to blend in though in case not everyone is celebrating You-Know-Who's win."

Grabbing his sister's hand, Ron pulled her into his side as he made a tight circle and Disapparated from the plateau with a loud crack.

"Cissy, put the boys in the cellar! I'm going to have a conversation with this one, girl to girl!" Bellatrix shouted, her spittle landing on Hermione's ashen face.

Draco stuttered a step towards her as his mother ushered Potter and Weasley into the cellar with Luna and the other occupants. Sliding his wand from his pocket with an uneasy hand, he took another trembling step towards his aunt as she began to dig her curved wand into Hermione's cheek. The whimper she let out and the rapid dilation of her honey flecked brown eyes pierced his heart urging him to hasten his way to her.

His movement caught her attention and she met his mercurial eyes over Bella's shoulder. A skittish twitch of her head was all the movement she gave to halt his advance as she was dragged by the elbow and tossed to the floor in the center of the family's drawing room.

His deranged aunt's interrogation was drowned out by the screams that tore free from Hermione's throat as her body constricted, bowed, and writhed on the carpet covered marble. Draco fought to maintain her eye contact as she repeated countless times that she hadn't been inside of Bellatrix's vault. The sickening crack of her bones giving way under the crushing force of his aunt's booted heels tested his resolve to follow her instructions and not interfere. With her screams going hoarse and her sobs drying up, it was even harder, knowing that her body was slowly giving up the fight right before his eyes.

He maintained a white knuckled grip on his wand refusing to look away from her as tears streaked down the side of her face. He wouldn't leave her alone in this and needed to see every minute expression in case she changed her mind and asked for his help. Counting different patterns out in his head, he tried to not show the full level of distress he felt at seeing the witch he had grown to love being tortured on the floor in front of him. His facade cracked further though when Bellatrix pulled her short dagger out from the outer corset of her dress, and knelt on the floor beside Hermione.

The moment the cursed point pierced her skin, he tossed her wishes out of his head and began to move for her, raising his wand at his aunt's back.

"No," she croaked out as another scream echoed around them. "Please... don't..."

Wishing he could fight her stubbornness and refusal to save herself, Draco moved as close as he dared, lowering himself to squat as well so his gaze was closer to hers as the knife sliced through the fair underside of her arm. He offered her what strength he could as she fought to hide whatever information she had. He felt his eyes begin to well up knowing Bella wouldn't stop until either Hermione gave in, went mad, or died, any option being agreeable since she had the sword and whatever it represented back. As the blade worked its way down her arm, he reached out wanting to grasp her fingers and anchor her sanity.

Looking at how much closer they were, he began to loosen his grip on his wand and lower it to the ground to roll to her at a moment's notice. Noting her near vacant gaze, he once again went to raise his wand at his aunt when a crash sounded from the cellar entrance, Potter and Weasley bursting forth back into the room.

In the chaos that followed he lost his wand to Potter as they dueled, both wanting to reach Hermione and where she stood protected by Weasley. And when his father's former elf released the chandelier over Bellatrix, allowing their group to join together on one end, she weakly held her hand out to him, beckoning him to her, their coming escape, and the end of his attempts at spying. Draco looked back at his mother and murmured an apology, before skidding across the floor as he ran to the opposite side and grasped his witch's hand, the pull of apparition beginning to take her away.

As his aunt's blade embedded itself into his shoulder in his dream remembered memory, Draco came awake with a start and almost fell out of the un-leveled dining chair he sat in. Steadying himself out, he dropped his booted feet to the floor and scrubbed the cold sweat from his face. With a deep sigh, he propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, using his palms to apply pressure to his temples as they throbbed. Leaning back into the chair, he hissed as his left arm began to burn once again with the faint waves of a targeted Cruciatus that pulsed out from the writhing Dark Mark that marred his pale skin.

He bore down on his teeth as he tried to take deep breaths through the pain. The old wards that were surprisingly still intact around the ramshackle manor, prevented the Dark Lord or any of his followers from tracking his Mark. It also helped to lessen the strength of the magical attacks he had become susceptible to upon defecting, making it the perfect place for him to set up what he hoped would become a new base of operations for him and any others that had escaped. The only fault in the plan was when it came time to leave again, but that was an issue for another day.

As the pain began to recede he looked at the inside of his right arm. It was littered with welted claw marks and abrasions from where Hermione had tried to hold on to him that morning. Tracing his fingers over the dirty lines, he silently prayed for a miracle that somehow she would be spared at the culling. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, keeping her alive would be beneficial to the new regime despite her blood status. She was talented and powerful and he knew that the Dark Lord valued those qualities more than purity, his mostly Muggle World raised godfather being a prime example of how much the rules could be bent.

Holding on to what could potentially turn out to be false hope, he set to making a list of priorities in case Weasley showed up. Draco had given him more than enough time not only to decide if he would show or not, but to potentially seek out any others that could be nearby and bring them along. They would need Hermione back first, not just for his own selfishness but for what she would represent in the next wave of the war. And once they had her back, that wave would officially crash on the Dark Lord's shores and they would need to be ready.

With his mind deeply focused on writing out the hierarchy of Death Eaters and their tasks and specialties as he knew it to be upon his defection, Draco was startled when his wand began to chime out. Grabbing it from where he had tossed it on the table several hours ago, he canceled the alarm, and made his way to the receiving room of the manor to activate the floo connection. He stood before the hearth with his feet apart and arms crossed as the emerald green flames danced inside, growing in their height as they prepared for travel. The sound of crackling grew as the room began to glow with the emerald light, making him raise his wand in preparation with his other hand in his pocket wrapped around a vial. Not a minute later did the first person tumble out in a cloud of soot.

"Hello Draco," Luna's voice greeted like wind chimes. "I assume you would like me to verify myself with something only I would know?"

"Not necessary," he replied shortly, pulling the large vial from the front pocket of his rumpled trousers.

Uncorking the clear liquid he flicked her with several drops and awaited for any reaction. If she were under the influence of any spells, enchantments, or potions, smoky vapors would curl up from her person, the saturation of color determining their strength and how nefarious they were. It was a brew his godfather had invented based on the Thief's Downfall and perfected two years ago, and one that Draco had been nicking from his stores a vial or two at a time since finding out about it during one of his first meetings the summer that followed.

Watching the potion land on her with no greater effect than leaving wet spots on her clothes and face, Draco relaxed his stance by a fraction and wrapped a single arm around Luna in a hug.

"I'm happy you escaped, Lovegood," he expressed with a squeeze to her shoulder and a press of his lips to her pale blonde hair that was nearly as white as his own. "Follow the corridor to the dining room, I've been setting up a war room of sorts in anticipation of your arrival."

"I'm sorry we couldn't get Hermione," she offered, as the flames of the fire began to glow again.

He quickly masked his affection for Luna and directed her again to the dining room, tensing himself back up in preparation for his next arrival. He followed the same process when Longbottom stepped out, flicking him with the potion and sending him on his way after no reactions presented, and again with the female Weasley though he offered her a solemn nod of his head in recognition of her personal suffering at Potter's death. Watching the clock above the mantel begin to tick out the last sixty seconds before his floo closed, Draco briefly closed his eyes in preparation for seeing the other Weasley.

Relations between them had always been hostile but the quick draw to annoyance and from there, anger, had amplified since they had all escaped his family's manor. Weasley had not taken the news well upon finding out about Draco's true allegiances. It had turned worse when Hermione had fully disclosed how over their last year at school together, the two of them had gone from enemies, to friends, to nurturing a budding romance with everything coming to a halt when the Death Eaters invaded the school. Now of all the people he would have rather reached out to for help, he was stuck having to swallow his pride and turn to his school and would-be romantic rival if the war had turned in their favor.

With only ten seconds to go, he began to think that Weasley had passed on the information to others that were willing but had chosen to go forth on his own. The second hand nearly stopped moving as the final moments slowly ticked away before the fireplace glowed a hot, bright green and his final guest tumbled out, his face darkening with anger as he waved a copy of the Daily Prophet in his face.

Weasley threw the newspaper to the side as he tackled Draco to the ground roaring in the cavernous receiving room, "DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS? DID YOU FUCKING KNOW?"

His large hands that had made him such a formidable keeper—though he would never admit it aloud—wrapped around his neck. His air supply was swiftly cut off as his windpipe began to crush, preventing him from landing anything more than a feeble attempt at defense before he started clawing to free his neck.

"ANSWER ME!"

"RON!" the Weasley sister screamed, as she and the others skidded into the room. "He's turning purple, he can't breathe, let alone answer you!"

Draco continued to struggle as Longbottom came to his aid, linking his arms under Weasley and using his entire body to pry the wizard off of him. The rush of air he felt made several tears slip out of his eyes as his throat burned under his greedy gulping of oxygen. Turning to his hands and knees he coughed and sputtered onto the floor, reaching for the crumpled newspaper to see what had enraged Weasley so much given what they had already experienced and lost over the last weeks and that morning.

Special Evening Edition of the Daily Prophet

Details of the Dark Lord's Defeat Over Undesirable Number One, Harry Potter: The Dawning of a New Era (story on page 2)

Recount of the Day's Sentencing and Executions: A Look Inside of the Dark Lord's Re-Education Camps (story on page 7)

Hermione Granger, Undesirable Number Two and Mudblood Accomplice of Harry Potter, Spared from Execution by Right of Soulmate Claiming from Severus Snape! (story on page 11)

Beneath the trio of late breaking headlines were accompanying photos. The first two printed side by side and blown up to a medium size. On the left stood the Dark Lord after the final battle with the blurred out bodies of the dead laying in the courtyard behind him and the smoldering remains of Hogwarts rising to meet the morning sun. On the right were witches and wizards shackled together as they shuffled forward in a line, a plethora of bright ginger heads among the accused. Playing on a loop, they ascended the steps of a dais in the Ministry's atrium and turned to face the barbaric crowd that was shouting at them, resigned to their fate. And at the bottom, taking up the lower half of the paper, was the looping photograph that accompanied the third story of the night.

In the picture, Hermione knelt before the crowd, her head held high as she stared someone down in the distance, no doubt the Dark Lord himself. Behind her in a mass of black robes, wearing an intricately designed skull mask, stood his godfather, her would-be executioner. Draco watched as the photograph continuously played before his eyes, proving over and over again that he wasn't having another nightmare. His uncle's hand slowly curved over her bare shoulder, before further ripping her tattered clothes. Then his fingers reached out to trace a pattern on her back that could only be her marking. His stomach rolled as he watched for the fourth time, her regal posture and challenging face relaxing under the touch, subtly leaning into it as her eyes closed.

In a fit of rage to match Weasley's, he shoved the paper aside and stood back up.

"No, I didn't fucking know!" he yelled, summoning the vial of potion and flicking it at the other wizard to cover his bases, though he knew the real and un-enchanted Ron Weasley stood before him. "This is going to make getting her back infinitely harder."

He stormed off down the corridor not caring if any of them bothered to follow him. He had speculated that there was a more than decent chance that Hermione would be spared, but this was by far the worst possible way for it to have happened. She was now little more than the property of Severus Snape, a confirmed soulmate match to him.

Of all the undeserving bastards in the world, it had to be him, Draco silently seethed, throwing open rolls of parchment that detailed the layouts of several high ranking Death Eater homes, places they frequented, and their businesses and offices.

They would need to completely revamp the tentative plans he had begun making. The luxury of time afforded by celebration he had been counting on, now robbed from him.

The thundering steps of Weasley echoed behind him as he too stomped into the dining room, taking in the sprawl of plans and information before him.

"How could you not have known, Ferret Boy?" Weasley demanded.

Scoffing as he rolled his eyes and leaned against the table crossing his arms, Draco faced him and said, "I know you couldn't possibly fathom this given the classless act of Lavender Brown, but not all witches are one step above a common corner whore, spreading their cunts for any wizard who propositions them. Some of them actually have standards that need to be met before allowing anyone into their bed."

"Clearly you didn't meet hers if you didn't know Hermione had a soulmate marking," he spat, stepping into Draco's space.

"The best things in life are worth waiting and working for. Not that you would know that since you threw your chance away with her for a piece of trash that half of Hogwarts had shagged before settling for you," he taunted, meeting Weasley's threatening step with one of his own.

"Want to go for round two, Malfoy? You didn't do so well a few minutes ago!"

"ENOUGH!" Longbottom shouted into the room, the girls flanking him with stern, disapproving looks on their faces. "Whatever your issues are with each other, you need to put them the fuck away! We have bigger problems than that of the two of you comparing the length of your wands. The only things we should be concerned about is that she is alive, which means she's rescuable, and determining how long we have to plan and execute said rescue.

"Now what do you know about Snape, Malfoy? He's your godfather and therefore you're the best we have at determining how long we have before he completes their bond."

"What do you mean by 'completes their bond?'" the female Weasley asked.

"You don't know?" Luna questioned.

"Of course they don't know," Draco snapped. "Their family took pride in throwing away all the traditions and knowledge of the old world. They wore it like a badge of honor, passing down less and less with each generation."

"Don't you dare talk about my family, Malfoy!"

"Why Weasel? Is the truth too hard to hear?"

His sister stepped away from Longbottom and closer to Draco as she took up her brother's argument. "In case you've forgotten Malfoy, you're a blood traitor like the rest of us."

"I may be a blood traitor, but I at least don't turn my back on my own culture and history. You lot are a part of the problem that allowed blood supremacy to breed and fester, not passing down the traditions, history, and knowledge of our kind to the younger generations. And before you throw your stones, you two will do well to remember you live within a glass house as well. Or did you all allow Hermione into all the secrets of our kind and educate her in the expected customs and decorums of the wizarding world?"

They both had the good sense to step back into place, a look of chastisement settling over them for being called out on their own hypocrisy.

"Let's all sit down and I'll explain," Longbottom offered, gesturing to the long table.

Draco pulled out his seat at the head and plopped down. Moving his papers aside, he tossed his feet up on the table and reclined back, attempting to look as unaffected as he could muster. There would be time to deal with the blow he was dealt by the newspaper later. For now he needed to focus on getting his witch back before she was no longer his.

"As you already know, soulmates exist," Longbottom started to explain. "However, just because a matched pair finds each other it does not necessarily mean the two will end up together. Your freedom to choose and love isn't taken from you.

"Think of the ones born with markings who never found their mates. They lived happy, fulfilled lives. That applies to a matched pair as well. Hermione will have the ability to reject Snape as her mate if she so chooses—"

"Well of course she's going to bloody choose to reject him, Neville!" Weasley yelled as though it was an obvious conclusion.

"Not necessarily," Draco said, taking over. "No one really knows how the pairs are made. If it's an accident of birth, a family history, or some mystical divination where the universe already knows whose magical abilities and personalities would be compatible.

"Regardless of how they're made, soul pairs are instinctively drawn to one another."

"Only if they have shared a touch on their markings though," Longbottom amended.

"Not always. There have been accountings of pairs being drawn to each other even before the first stages of binding are exchanged—the touching of the marks Longbottom is referring to. Little, nearly inexplicable things until they find out what the other means to them.

"Documented accounts range from feelings of calm in each other's presence to an unexplainable urge to be near one another or being able to sense when your mate is in danger. It's more rare but it has happened. It's as if their souls recognize each other and try to tether the moment they become aware. It's the purest, most raw form of magic to exist."

"Either way," Longbottom said, regaining the table's attention. "She may have the choice to reject him but there is a force that will call to her to at the very least, explore the possibility of being Snape's mate. This is where the danger of her captivity with him and our limited amount of time comes into play.

"We have to assume that Snape knows more about soul markings than any of us, and especially Hermione. That he knows the steps to completing a bond and that regardless of it being Hermione, that he will want to claim his mate fully, if for no other reason than the status that comes with it. Not to mention the surge of magical power he will receive by binding himself to her and her to him.

"Many won't recognize it, but in that photo he already started the process by touching what I assume to be her marking. Now it's only a matter of time before she reciprocates the touch and seals the first thread of their binding.

"The first seal is always a forgone conclusion between potential mates. You can chalk it up to curiosity. It's everything that comes after that we need to worry about. Especially because we can also assume that Snape has probably hidden her away somewhere where they will be undisturbed and forced to be in each other's presence; tempting her to slowly fall for her captor and begin to want to take things further with him."

"Neville can't be right! Hermione would never," the female Weasley objected.

"She can and she will," Draco answered, dejectedly. "My godfather is a master spy and manipulator. If he wants to—and he will, make no mistake if that—he can charm anyone into doing whatever he desires. Her wanting to, is in fact a very serious risk we face. And once the bond is completed between them..."

"What?" Weasley demanded.

"Once they're bound, there is no undoing it. Even without marital magic, they will be as tied together as any married couple is. More so because it goes soul deep, weaving itself into their very magic and bringing them together as one," Luna answered almost wistfully before adding, "And if they complete the binding, he will be able to track her to the ends of the earth. There is nowhere we could hide her from him.

"Also there's the soul sickness, which she will begin to suffer from the further they connect if they are separated, especially unwilling. It could kill her if we aren't careful."

"So what do we do? We need Hermione if we have any chance of renewing the war and winning," Weasley's sister asked, with an echo of panic in her voice.

"Unless someone else has a better idea, we send in a Trojan horse. Someone who can slip into Snape's manor, convince him that they aren't a threat so he will allow them to be around Hermione. Then they can relay information back to us as well as keep her close to them and away from him," Draco said, his new planning beginning to take form in his mind as he looked down the table at their best candidate.

"That would be me, wouldn't it?"

"Of course it's you Ginny, who else would it be?" Longbottom asked.

"Luna..." Weasley answered, making Draco recognize that for all his faults, the ginger weasel was clearly in possession of a strategic mind. "Luna would be the best one to send."

"Exactly."