This Bitter Earth

by Ikorous

Control isn't the only thing Draco Malfoy has lost. But he will get it back. He will get everything bac

6. SIX

A/N: So this is a long chapter, but I had to get a few things out of the way so certain long awaited things can start happening. I am writing the chapters as I update them and I am REALLY REALLY hoping I can get the next one out fast.

As always, seeing your comments and reviews mean so much to me and inspire me to keep going when I hit blocks in my writing. I want to thank EVERYONE who takes the time out to read and review (Archie your poem was beautiful) or talk to me on twitter and put up with me being crazy in between updates.

I didn't edit this one as much as I normally do, so if you find a typo, congrats! You get a cookie!

Soundtrack- "Monster (Under My Bed)" by Call Me Karizma

SIX

.

This was the last place in the fucking world Draco wanted to be right now.

The large gates were closed and the winged boars stood like sentinels on either side. He swore their tusks had gotten larger since the last time he was here.

When he ran past the apparition barrier at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and left Granger behind. He had almost splinched himself doing that.

Draco had never had any problems apparating before, but that night, when he was squeezed through time and space, a part of him had faltered, had tried to turn back. When he landed his boot was gone. The one he had pressed into Granger's chest. His bare foot hurt as it slammed into the pavement and he tried to balance himself. He had fallen to his knees in a second, gasping for air that would not fill his chest.

His empty, open, fucking chest. The hole Granger had been burning in him had melted through his cold stone and everything in him had fallen out. And for a moment, he wondered if he had left his heart, his actual beating, bleeding heart, back there with Granger and his missing boot.

But when Bellatrix dug her sharpened nails into his arm and shoved him towards Snape, he felt the cold constricting around the bloody muscle inside his ribcage and knew that it was still there. And she wasn't.

Draco glowered up at the boars and heard the creaking of the gates as they began to move. Snape was making his way down the path, black robes billowing behind him. Did he charm them to swell with each step? Draco was sure he had. No one else's robes were that… poofy.

Must be a Halfblood thing, trying to make themselves big and important.

"Professor," Draco drawled in mock respect.

Snape stopped in front of him, black eyes sharp. "Headmaster now actually."

Draco gave him a cruel smile and stepped inside the gates, feeling his heart give an extra thump. "Still have you greeting people at the gates though."

"I was not aware you were arriving this morning," Snape answered in a cool tone.

Draco smirked. "Not in the loop anymore?"

Snape's lip curled and shuddered. "I did not receive your owl with the confirmation."

Cocking a brow up Draco stepped inside the gates. "Were the Dark Lord's orders not enough for you then? I'll have to let him know you need more reassurance."

The truth was Draco had no idea where the fuck his bird had gone off to. Calix was spending more and more time out of his room now that her cat was there. His owl would be gone for days, soaring back in at strange times and hooting until Draco put a silencing charm on the pillow and buried his head underneath it.

Not that he was sleeping well anyways.

Draco did not shorten his stride as they walked up the path towards the castle which meant Snape had to quicken his pace to keep up. Good. He could probably use the exercise after sitting around on his ass all day in the Headmaster's office, counting textbooks or whatever the fuck a Headmaster did.

Easiest fucking job in the world.

Snape wasn't out scouring bogs in the middle of the night or pulling off parts of people's bodies. Snape wasn't listening to people cry and beg as he hauled them into the Ministry for whatever fate Umbridge had in store for them. Snape wasn't breaking into homes and attacking innocent people whose only crime was falling in love with the wrong fucking person.

Snape wasn't suffering under the Dark Lord for not finding Potter yet.

Lord Voldemort had called Draco to him and as soon as his boots hit the ground the red light flashed and Draco's body was encircled with whipping pain.

Lord Voldemort's Cruciatus was different from his own. It felt like his skin was being flayed from his body and the tender muscles underneath were being set on fire. It was torture; it was torment.

It was nothing compared to her.

He took his punishment without complaint, gritting his teeth and letting the pain roll through him. Cleanse him. He was seizing on the floor, but kept his body over the trap door, making sure she stayed down and was glad of it when the Dark Lord lifted the curse and barrelled into his mind, searching through his recent hunts, looking for any indication of disloyalty. He hovered over the torture sessions and crying faces of the victims he threw into the cells beneath the Department of Mysteries.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was selling people, but it was impossible to ignore when each face was being displayed in his mind. Dozens of them, months worth of faces. Men, women, and children. Children he recognized from school.

Draco gave them all up.

Because none of them were her.

Umbridge was dropping gold into his hands when the Dark Lord slithered back from his memories.

"Growing rich off of Mudbloods?" He tsked. "I thought you had more ambition than that, Draco."

"Only in my service for you, My Lord," Draco wheezed and pulled himself up to his knees. "The gold is nothing compared to achieving my goal."

"And yet you have collected so much of it," The Dark Lord went on, "and have failed to bring me Potter."

Draco placed a hand tenderly on his ribs. The curse might have cracked one where it hit him. It hurt to breathe, but he had to answer.

"I am close."

The Dark Lord looked down, his eyes like gaping wounds. Draco held himself perfectly still. He was a statue. He was stone, matching the white walls and sitting heavily on top of the floorboards, keeping her locked away and safe.

His Master held him in a deep gaze, the crimson eyes so dark Draco could see the reflection of his pale face staring back at him. He didn't even look like himself anymore.

"You are failing."

A freezing jolt of fear shot down his spine.

Draco felt the cold air in his lungs, tightening them as the school came into view. He couldn't help it when his eyes moved to the Astronomy tower, traveling up the grey stones to the top where everything had fallen apart.

Or maybe it had fallen apart before that, in the Room of Requirement. Or maybe in the Prefects bathroom. Or maybe it had all started falling apart that first night in the Restricted section. Had it ever really been enough of something to fall apart? What more of Granger had he ever had than a warm hole?

He cut his eyes to the edge of the forest, where he had last seen her. Where he had last had her. Because he did fucking have her. He had every single inch of that girl, his girl, and that night, he had been inside her. In more ways than one.

He still was. He was still in her heart. He knew he was, he had to be. And he'd get her back. Maybe not immediately, but indefinitely.

And he'd prove that to her. Mark her inside and out as his alone. She would let him. She might even beg him to.

The thought of that carried him up the steps and into the Entrance Hall, but as soon as Draco was back inside the school, his breath was knocked from him.

Memories. Dozens if not hundreds of memories crashed over him. Years worth of memories. Granger walking, Granger talking, Granger reading, Granger laughing, Granger yelling, Granger wearing the little fucking uniform that made his prick swell just thinking about, Granger saying 'Yes, sir'. Granger walking off with Weasley. Granger under his arm as he pulled her outside, trying to smuggle her out.

"Draco?"

Snape was a few steps ahead, halfway turned back and Draco realized that he had stopped walking three steps into the school. Snape's obsidian eyes were carefully watching, scanning over him to see why he stopped and looking for weaknesses.

Draco took a heavy step forward. "Just take me to the sword, Severus." He surged past his Godfather and up the stairs he had watched Granger climb countless times before he had descended down into the dungeons to fuck someone who wasn't her.

Shit, he needed to get laid.

And running Lord Voldemort's evil errands wasn't getting him any closer to Granger so Draco wanted to get this the fuck done with this so he could get back to hunting her.

And Potter.

And Weasley too because that fuckface was the reason all of this had happened in the first place. If he hadn't shown up in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco would have… would have been able to convince- No.

Maybe.

He would have… He would have fucking shoved her through that cabinet no matter how much she fought and kept her away from all this shit that they were in the fucking middle of. And he'd be hurrying back to her instead of that stupid orange cat who was clawing up his goddamn furniture.

Maybe more treats would make the damn thing happy. He'd stop by the Magical Menagerie after he was done at the Lestrange's. He was really starting to hate his Aunt.

Draco followed Snape up the last set of stairs to the Headmaster's office and paused in front of the statue of the Griffin as Snape muttered a stream of latin under his breath too low for Draco to hear. Like he was ever going to come back here and break into Snape's office to steal quills or some shit.

"This way," Snape said slowly as Draco side-stepped as to not trip on Snape's long robes trailing behind him. They didn't billow in his office. Not enough wind.

It was oddly stuffy in here; so different from the clammy dungeon office Snape used to have. Draco felt an oppressive weight as he stopped in front of the desk and looked up to see-

Fucking hell, it was him.

Albus fucking Dumbledore was snoozing in his portrait hanging right above Snape's desk.

Snape waved his wand and a cabinet opened. He reached inside and grasped a shining, silver sword encrusted with rubies.

Draco looked back and forth between his Godfather and his Headmaster. He kept the old man's portrait over his head? The man he had killed? Murdered?

The memory of it still turned Draco's stomach.

He crouched down over the floorboards and let the walls close in until he couldn't see the green light shining in the already dead glaze over Dumbledore's blue eyes.

At least the portrait had them closed.

"You're to take this to Bellatrix-"

"I know what I'm supposed to do with it," Draco snapped, anger flaring inside him. He wasn't sure why he was mad at Snape. He wasn't sure if he actually was mad at Snape, but Snape was the one who was here, so Snape was the one he was going to direct it at. "I'm the one out there serving the Dark Lord, not sitting around babysitting."

Snape inclined his head making his greasy hair fall to frame his drawn face. "Yes, it seems you are doing such... important work." He held out the sword and Draco swiped it from him, gripping it so hard that rubies bit into his hand. He wondered which was more red, Gryffindor's rubies or Snape's half-blood. If Snape didn't stop looking at him like that he was about to fucking find out.

Granger pushed up on the floorboards and Draco rolled his eyes, easily stepping on top of them again. He should go; being here was making it harder to keep her in place.

"Well I won't keep you from…" Draco looked around the office, filled with musty old books and half used candles. "I honestly don't know what it is you do here and I don't care enough to stay and find out."

He was halfway back down to the Entrance Hall and his sweet fucking freedom from the painful memories this goddamn castle was full of when he heard the bell toll and a door at the other end of the corridor opened.

Oh shit.

Of fucking course. It couldn't have been some first years he had never seen before, no, that would have been much too easy.

Draco kept his face perfectly impassive, not even letting the muscles in his jaw or neck tense as Longbottom shuffled towards him after exiting the classroom. He was limping and a nasty dark bruise lined his jaw. Longbottom had lost weight. He had always been… pudgy, but his fucked up face had lost its baby fat and a hardened expression hung over his drawn features.

Draco made sure he didn't miss a step when Longbottom met his gaze across the corridor. It dropped down to the sword and then back up. Draco watched the loathing and disgust creep across his face.

Students were spilling out into the hall, filling it quickly. There was no mistaking him for a student, not anymore. Draco stood out among his once peers. No longer one of them in a school uniform, instead he wore his traveling cloak over a leather brigandine with the sword in one hand and the other on his wand at the holster strapped to his thigh.

"Fucking Death Eater," Longbottom spat as he neared Draco.

Draco wanted to slit Longbottom's throat with the sword. Wanted to cut his fucking head off and show him what a Death Eater really was. Being back here was getting to him. He kept expecting to see Granger rounding a corner, her curls falling around her face. But she wasn't here. She wasn't anywhere. Even the Granger under the trap door wasn't her.

He just needed to get out of here, drop the sword off, and he could lose himself in a bottle of fire whisky. Or better yet, curse his arm until the whole thing went numb again. The ringing dullness left over was almost better than guzzling as much liquor as he could stand. It hurt and burned and ached. It felt a little like her.

"That sword belongs to Harry," Longbottom jutted out his chin. "You don't deserve to even touch a relic of Gryffindor."

Draco took a quick step, blocking Longbottom's path, leaned down into his face and fingered the hilt tenderly. "Finders keepers, Longbottom. I'll just be adding this to my collection of other Gryffindor prized possessions I've taken."

Longbottom's brows furrowed and a deep crease parted them. His eyes darted back and forth between Draco's who kept his gaze unwavering and clenched his jaw to keep from telling Longbottom how he had the Gryffindor Princess begging and whining for his cock like the good little slut she so desperately wanted to be for him.

Soon, kitten.

Maybe he'd beat off again before he cursed his arm. It had only been… five hours since he had last taken himself in his hand and lost himself in the memory of Granger's legs over his shoulder and his cock in her tight fucking pussy.

Yes, relieving a little of his tension before he cursed the rest of it away would be a fitting reward for having to come all the way up to cold-ass Scotland for a fucking sword. What did the Dark Lord want with it anyways? Did he plan on slaying a dragon sometime soon? Draco's mark burned and itched at the thought.

Longbottom was in his way.

"Move."

"Or what? Going to hex me?" Longbottom taunted. Apparently his baby face wasn't the only thing he'd lost. Longbottom had never talked back to him like this before.

Draco pulled his wand halfway out of the holster. "Oh I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve."

Longbottom glared at him. "I know exactly what's up your sleeve, Malfoy. You can try and hide it, but you're just like the rest of them. And you'll get what's coming to you."

Draco sneered at him. "Looking forward to it."

"Who's blocking my hallway?"

Draco wanted to groan at the sound of the all too familiar voice, but kept his face in the same expression as if it was carved from stone.

"Oi! Longbottom! Move your fat as-"

Draco closed his eyes.

"Ho-ly shit."

He opened them. And there was Theodore Nott, his arm slung around Pansy's neck and her hand on his chest, flagged on either side by Crabbe and Goyle. For half a second Draco was almost stunned. How many times had he been in Theo's exact position, arm around the girl, surrounded by followers, and strutting down the hall like it belonged to him?

Draco felt… oddly hollow.

This should have been his last year at school, ruling it with his girl at his side. Instead he just had this stupid sword and a brand of eternal servitutde on his arm.

Longbottom grumbled and started limping away.

Draco just couldn't resist and turned his boot to the side and sliding it across the stone floor, stuck it right in front of Longbottom's favored leg to make him tumble down, hands hitting the floor with a sharp smack before he grunted with pain.

Draco smirked, not feeling better, but not feeling quite as empty as he just had.

"Is that the best Voldemort can do?" Longbottom gingerly picked himself back up. "Going to trip the Order to death?"

Draco swung the sword up, letting the weak winter light catch the pale silver and rich rubies.

"That's about all it will take," he drawled, "after the Dark Lord cuts off Potter's head with this."

Theo, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle all laughed and Draco felt a little of his old attitude return to him. It would be so easy to fall back into his old life, keep the trap door closed and hope that Granger stopped banging on it eventually. His Pureblood life was just sitting there, waiting on him, and if he put the energy he was using finding Granger into furthering himself, there was no limit as to what he could reach.

He looked down at the cinnamon brown eyes, peering up at him from between the floorboards. She had ruined his life and he was ruined because of her. And worst of all Granger wasn't here to make any of this worth it either.

Longbottom was muttering under his breath as he walked off, meeting the Weasley girl at the end of the corridor. Draco watched him limp up to her and for a moment wondered if she knew where Granger was. She was strong, but… he figured he could get it out of her.

But the blazing hate in her eyes let him know that if she had any clue as to where Granger, Potter, or her dumb fuck of a brother was she would be after them in a heartbeat, not here at school. Draco turned back around, no longer interested in Granger's old friends.

"What are you doing here?" Theo asked, excited but also wary. He eyed the sword and Draco lowered it, sliding it into his belt and pulling his cloak around the hilt.

"Working."

Pansy stroked Theo's chest a little, pushing a few fingers in between the buttons on his shirt. Draco watched. Theo's chest wasn't fucked up. Theo could have a girl touch him without being disgusted by the disfiguring scars running over his skin.

McGonagall stuck her head out of her classroom and scolded a few students still loitering around, shooing them off to their next class.

Pansy rolled her eyes and Goyle made a low grunting noise that Draco took as annoyance.

"The school is a fucking joke this year," Theo lowered his voice a little. "Although the Carrows make it fun. I think this is the first time Crabbe's ever made anything close to a passing mark, isn't that right, Crabby?"

Crabbe's mouth split into a wide smile and Draco saw part of Crabbe's breakfast still stuck in between his bared teeth.

Since when did Theo call Crabbe 'Crabby'? Draco hadn't thought twice about missing his last year until… until he saw what he was missing. If he hadn't called Bellatrix through the cabinet, he might be here, with Granger. Probably trying to pull her for a quickie before their next lesson. Would he though? Or would his Master have called him back to his side already? Maybe having him fetch a helmet next.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about finding one with a nose guard.

"It's about time." Draco made himself sound as bored as possible so they would not notice that he was actually wishing he could trade places with them. Draco raised his eyes, looking around. "Where's Blaise?"

"At his internship," Pansy answered, stroking Theo's tie. "He's almost always at St. Mungo's now. Really only shows up for exams or when Snape mandates everyone return for an assembly."

How could he have forgotten? Blaise had started his internship at St. Mungo's in September. Shit, he had been in London so many times and never bothered to stop in the hospital to see him.

What was he doing? Draco didn't pop in to see friends. Blaise wasn't even really a… yes he was. Out of anyone, Blaise was the closest thing Draco had ever had to a friend. And he had forgotten the one thing Blaise had talked about for years and not even bothered to see him an owl to see if he was free in months. Not that Calix was around much. Where the fuck did he keep flying off to?

Why did everyone keep leaving him?! He'd lock the window the next time Cal landed on his perch. Or stick him back in his old cage until he learned how to behave again.

"Theo, I'm cold," Pansy whined and Theo wrapped his arm around her tighter.

"I know how to warm you up," Theo growled and Pansy giggled.

Draco wanted to cut Theo's arm off with the sword. He wanted to cut his own arm off and be rid of the fucking mark seared into it. He wanted to hold Granger that close, bury his face in her curls, and breathe in her sweet vanilla and cinnamon. Fucking Salazar, he needed to get out of this castle.

"Better hurry along, Theo. Don't want to to get a detention for being late to class," Draco said sarcastically and felt a cold sense of pride as Theo's face fell from its stupid little smile into a scowl. Draco pushed away any lingering sense of camaraderie he had for Theo. They had always been more of rivals than friends.

Theo narrowed his eyes. "I'll be out of here soon enough."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Have fun in… Herbology or whatever."

"Oh I don't think we'll make it to our next class, will we, Pans?" Theo spread his hand out over Pansy's cheek and turned her face up to him, grinning down at her.

Draco scoffed. "What, no offer to join this time?" He placed his hand over his heart. "I'm crushed."

He could feel Granger glaring up at him from between his legs. He'd make it up to her later. Just like everything else.

"I can fuck her in your old bed if that makes you feel better," Theo smiled coldly.

Draco took a step down the hall. He wanted to either torture himself by conjuring up Granger in his head again or by cursing his arm until he couldn't feel the burned out hole in his chest anymore. What he didn't want to do was stand here and have a pissing contest with Theo. Especially when he knew he would win. Like he always had.

"Don't bother," Draco's lip curled. "I wore it out with her already."

Theo's eyes went dark and Pansy snapped, "Fuck you, Draco!"

Draco smirked over his shoulder. "Only if you beg."

He was glad that the real Granger wasn't here to hear him. She'd be furious. She'd scream and yell at him and her little cheeks would get that beautiful red blush in them and he'd grab her face and pull her close and tell her that every girl in the world could beg him on their hands and knees, but she was the only one he'd let have his cock. His girl. His only.

Godfuckingdamn it, he needed to get out of this castle.

.

Draco sat at his desk, a black candle burning next to him and his head in his hand. Where the fuck was their money going? These reports didn't make sense. Gold was moved from one vault to another without any good reason and before he could track it again, it was gone.

This had his Father's fucking fingerprints all over it. Probably some wine stains too if he tried to look close enough. Draco rubbed his eyes. He was too tired to care tonight and there was still plenty of gold in the vaults and more going in each week when he took his latest captures to the Ministry.

He'd have to go back again soon. But not to turn in Mudbloods, no, this time he was handing over someone he hoped to fetch him a higher price. Mundungus Fletcher has outlived his usefulness and although it might have been wiser to dispose of the waste of space, Draco decided to modify his memory behind overlapping charms and wash his hands of the fucker.

He couldn't look at Fletcher without thinking about what he almost made Kenna do.

And he couldn't think of that without thinking about what Granger would say.

And he refused to think about her.

He wasn't going to let her up from the floorboards, wasn't going to hold out his hand and pull her up into his study, sliding his hands from hers and onto her waist, her hips, holding her there in front of him. He wouldn't stretch and flex his fingers, feeling the soft give of her ass against them as he pulled her in between his knees.

"You missed me, Sweetheart?" He looked up into her rich chocolate eyes and Granger bit her lip before nodding. "I know you did," he cooed and gripped her round ass in his hands. "I missed you too."

She opened her mouth to say something and then stopped. Draco watched her carefully as she gave him an innocent little smile instead, running her hands up his arms, not flinching at all as her right hand moved over his dark mark.

"Come here." Draco spoke softly, gently pulling on her until she was in his lap. Hermione- no, fuck- Granger curled up against him and he wrapped his arms around her. When was the last time he had held her like this? When would he get to do it again?

All he wanted to do was have the real Granger here, with him, sitting on his lap, arms around his neck, head resting on his chest. Then blinking and looking up at him with those… fuck, those big doe eyes.

"I want to watch you come," he murmured and saw the spark within their depths.

He kissed her, pushing his hand into her curls and holding the back of her head so he could deepen it, pressing his lips against her soft ones, opening his mouth and softly pushing his tongue against hers until the smallest little noise came up from her throat.

Draco eyed the tumbler of whisky sitting on his desk. He could finish it, finish going over these reports and try and find out what his Father was doing with thousands of galleons every week, or he could lean back, kick his legs out and pull down the zipper on his trousers. And watch Granger's eyes burn for him.

Her hands were strapped to the headboard and he had her leg hooked in the crook of his arm, pushing it up against her as he sunk himself down.

"Fuck I love your pussy," he groaned he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to make the image in front of him stay. Her curls were spread out around her, head dipping back into his pillow. Her mouth was open, lids low and brows pulled tight. "Its so good, Granger, its so fucking good."

She moaned for him as he buried himself all the way in her, holding himself for just a second and relishing the tight warmth surrounding him, squeezing him. Draco gripped harder.

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking on it and pulling it up only to dive back down after it, shoving his nose into her soft tit and swirling his tongue around her pink nipple, grazing his teeth over it and making her shiver before he pulled back.

She was holding onto him hard as her body moved under his, surging up as he pushed himself inside her. Draco slid down his chair a little, widening his legs and he slid his hand quickly up and down. Fuck, he wished this was real. Wished she was in his bed, tied down and willing to be used. He leaned his head back against his leather chair, breathing harshly as he worked his fist over his length.

Draco bent over her further, driving himself deep into her core and whispered huskily into her ear, "You can speak, pet, but only to tell me how much you love me."

Granger moaned for him.

"Come on, kitten, tell me." He pushed his hips up, meeting his own hand. "Fucking say it, whore."

"I don't want someone like you to love me."

Draco's eyes shot open, breath choking him as it caught in his throat. The pleasant warm sensation of arousal was gone as he was doused with freezing cold, harsh enough to make it feel like his scars were cracking open.

Draco shoved himself back in his trousers and picked up his wand, stabbing it into his left forearm and let the heat from the curse banish away the ice of her rejection.

Fuck, it hurt. More than it normally did. Draco did his best to hold it, to keep the curse going, but his heart was already shattering apart in his chest and his eyes were burning and Granger was gone and he might die before he could find her and if he died then-

Draco spasmed and fell out of the chair, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. His whole body was numb. He thought he tasted blood, but wasn't sure. Everything was black and white and grey and all of it was ugly because none of it was her.

Was he dying? Oh shit. Had he pushed himself too far? Was his wand still even in his hand? Was the curse still going? He couldn't feel anything. Nothing but the vast barren wasteland that was his soul without her. Except it wasn't really his anymore.

He tilted his head down and even that small movement felt like razor blades splitting his skin and scraping his bones. He stared into the black eyes of the skill on his mark as his lids slowly closed over his eyes and the world stopped for a little while.

.

Draco woke up to Crookshanks licking his cheek. He could barely move. His entire body was sore and aching from the curse and he had to pull himself up using his desk. Pushing the cat away, Draco grabbed the bottle of fire whisky and drank, trying to dispel some of the pain in his body.

Fuck.

His entire arm was bruised. Deep violent purple edged with angry red encircled the mark and when he went to flex his hand, the muscles seized up, crying out in protest. Draco pulled open one of the drawers and fumbled around inside, shoving quills and inks bottles to the side as he pulled out three vials.

One for healing. One for pain. One for sleep.

Draco tucked the blue sleeping potion into his pocket. He didn't want to have to hear Fletcher's whining all the way into London. Crookshanks jumped on his desk and meowed loudly at him.

"Fuck off," Draco rasped. "You aren't allowed up here."

He tried to push the cat off, but the stupid thing only pushed himself into Draco's hand, rubbing along his arm. Draco couldn't even feel it.

His throat felt tight and he popped the cork out of the first vial, swallowing it against the harsh tightness as he forced it down. He considered silencing the mangy animal because he would not stop yowling, but instead tossed back the second vial and felt a small tingling in his fingers as the bruises faded into a sickly yellow and pale green. The shadow around the mark remained.

Draco glanced down and saw Crookshanks brushing against his hand again and for the briefest moment he felt the soft fur and Draco pushed his fingers into it, feeling the rumble of the cat's purr as the feeling slowly returned to his arm.

Draco brought his hand up to scratch underneath Crookshanks' chin then quickly pulled it away, balling it into a fist. He tolerated the cat, he didn't… pet it. He glared into its ugly squashed face. "Why are you always in my way? Next time you wake me up, I feed you to the snake."

He'd never really do it, but the cat didn't have to know that. Crookshanks swished his tail and swiped a paw, knocking Draco's fire whisky to the floor.

"Shit!" Draco jumped back as liquor and glass fell around his boots. Glaring at the cat, sitting happily on the edge of his desk Draco snarled, "You're lucky she likes you or I'd skin you for a throw pillow."

Draco grabbed him and Crookshanks squirmed in his arms as Draco shouldered the door to his bedroom open and dropped the cat unceremoniously on the velvet cushion, looking away quickly so he didn't think about how she looked on it. Summoning his cloak from the wardrobe, Draco caught it in midair and slammed the door behind him, locking her cat safely inside.

.

Draco had just managed to escape from Umbridge's office and make it back to the lifts only to be stuck in there with a group of raggedy Snatchers. Honestly, shouldn't they be using the magical maintenance workers exits? He rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to ignore their squabbles over the few golden coins they had been handed for their lot.

His own pockets were heavy. Mundungus Fletcher apparently had a bounty on his head for his part in smuggling Muggleborns out of the country and since Donovan and his dogs were fucking off and scratching at fleas or whatever they did when they weren't fucking eating people, Draco didn't have to share the spoils.

He was going to celebrate with a drink at Leaky then a trip to Gringotts to deposit his easy earned galleons and talk to whatever goblin had been letting his Father take out thousands and put a fucking stop to it.

Draco had a legacy to worry about on top of everything else. And eventually they would run out of Mudbloods and he would have to look elsewhere for his drinking money. His Father had tarnished the Malfoy name enough without pissing away their fortune behind his back. There was a fucking reason Draco didn't give back the Malfoy ring and this here was proof that he had done the right thing. He was the future of his family, he was the one holding them all up. Without him, Lucius Malfoy would be dead.

Fucking deserved it too. Piece of shit Death Eater who chose a Dark Lord over his own family and dragged them all into this mess. Draco swore he wouldn't make the same mistakes as his Father, but here he was, serving the same Master and failing every task set to him. He had thought it would have taken a couple weeks to track down Granger but, fuck, he couldn't even find a hint of Granger and it had been months.

Maybe she was dead. Maybe all of this was for nothing and he was nothing more than a third generation slave to a tyrant who was the fucking reason Granger wasn't waiting for him in his bed like she fucking should be.

It was his fault too. How was he going to fix this now when the last time he tried, Dumbledore had died because of it? Who was going to die next time he failed?

For the briefest moment he hoped it was himself.

Draco pushed the churning guilt over these thoughts behind his walls and let the white marble of them soothe him. He wanted to crawl down under the floorboards with Granger and feel her hands on him, holding him, but after last night he was scared to let her out, let her back in. If the Granger in his head hated him, what did that mean for the Granger somewhere out there?

"Where we supposed to look now?" One of the Snatcher's voices interrupted Draco's moody brooding.

"We can go back to that spot in the forest, the one I said there were people at."

"There was no one there! We looked! Nothing!"

"There was!" The second Snatcher argued. "I could smell somethin'. Somethin' good. I'm telling you, it was like… cinnamon and… vanilla."

The blood rushed from his head and his ears rang with the words. His heart stopped beating and then burst back to life in a searing jolt.

Granger.

Draco had his wand in the Snatchers cheek, arm against his thin chest, and slammed him into the wall of the lift so hard it shuddered and stopped its descent. The first Snatcher backed up quickly and the one Draco had pinned struggled as Draco's arm pressed up against his windpipe.

Leaning in as close as he could, Draco unclenched his jaw enough to spit through gritted teeth, "Where."

.

"You don't get to just say you're done and quit. That's not how this works."

Donovan was getting on Draco's last goddamn nerve. Draco had come all the way down here, to the awful, smelly club he had first met Donovan in to find out why the fuck he wasn't returning any letters and this fucking dog had the audacity to try and tell Draco he wanted to quit? Fuck that.

Donovan bristled. "Kenna told me what you did."

Draco dug the heel of his boot down against the trapdoor. Granger wanted out. Too bad. He wasn't going to let her. He wasn't going to let anything happen that he didn't want to. He had come too far, worked too hard, to lose it all now. He finally had a lead on an actual location Granger might be in and he'd be damned if he let that slip away from him.

Well, he already was, but… fuck it. He was going after Granger and Donovan was going to help him.

"I didn't do anything to her. It was just a scare tactic." Draco rolled his eyes. It technically wasn't a lie because that is how it turned out. Draco couldn't help but wonder if Fletcher hadn't given up the Tonks', would he have been able to go through with it? Even though he wouldn't have been the one to do the act, it still felt like a line he didn't want to cross. But would he have for Granger?

Draco remembered watching his Master order the snake to eat that professor right in front of him. He pushed his hands into the cool, white walls of his mind to stay upright.

"You invaded her mind! Who the fuck does that? You're insane, Malfoy, and we're staying away from you and don't think about coming after us because… we have protection now." Donovan snarled and out of the side of his eye, Draco noticed they were starting to attract attention. "You sick fuck."

Draco dropped his hand to the leather holster on his thigh. "I could have had her crawling on all fours if I wanted and fed her something a little more substantial than a finger. And all I'd have to do is pay attention to her for more than five seconds. Trust me, Kenna got off easy."

Donovan growled menacingly and Draco drew his wand. His hand was shaking ever so slightly and he wondered if it was from the curse or the fact that he was too fucking sober for this shit right now.

Draco took a deep breath to calm himself and swore he could catch a faint whiff of her vanilla cinnamon coming up from the floorboards.

Won't be long now, Sweetheart.

The other werewolves had started to gather around, talking low or glaring deeply. Draco heard snippets of their conversations.

"Who does he think he is? Coming in here. This is our lair."

"Fucking Death Eater."

"Kenna won't even eat."

"He can't take all of us."

"I've never tasted Pureblood before."

Draco's entire body contracted. They were right. He couldn't take all of them. Was it a mistake coming here? He had gotten the location out of the Snatcher and came here to get his wolves so he could hunt down his Mud- his girl and didn't even stop to think about the fact that he was underground with a pack of werewolves alone.

Shit.

"You don't come near me or Kenna again. Fergus either. Understood?" Donovan snarled.

Draco glanced over Donovan's shoulder and saw Kenna sitting in the far corner, her long hair flat and falling into her face and her fancy fox fur coat was caked with dirt and mud. Her eyes were empty of everything but a fine line of tears. She looked… Fuck… Had he really done that to her?

Draco spotted Fergus joining the wolves around them and remembered how quick the skinny man could be when he wanted. He had to be smart about this. One false move and they would be on him. He could take a few with him, but he was here for Granger, not himself and getting killed by a pack of rabid dogs wasn't going to help her at all.

"I'll double your pay. In advance. Now let's go, I've got a job for you."

He hated even saying the words. The gold he didn't care about, but the fact that he was having to negotiate now of all times... Fucking hell, he just needed Donovan to get the fuck over it and go back on the job so he could hunt Granger and find her and catch her and hold her and feel the warmth of her because it was so damn cold and empty here without her.

He'd empty the Malfoy vaults, all of them, if it got him Granger back; he didn't fucking care.

"I don't work for you anymore." Donovan's tone had an edge to it and Draco pulled himself up to his full height.

He ground his teeth together. "You don't get to quit. Not until I say so."

The whispers around them fell silent and Draco heard moving and shuffling from behind.

Donovan's gaze slid from Draco to someone else and then down to the floor.

Draco didn't have to turn to know who had joined them, he could smell him before he saw him.

Fuckrir Greyback.

The stench of rotten meat was thick enough to almost make Draco gag.

"You think," Fenrir's scratchy voice grated against Draco's marble walls. "You can come in here and buy one of my wolves?" He gave a long, howling laugh.

"He's not yours." Draco gripped his wand so hard he almost thought it might break.

Fenrir came to a stop beside Donovan who looked just as unhappy to see Fenrir as Draco was. "He is now." Fenrir smiled. His teeth were stained red and brown. "Him and his delicious little sister."

Donovan cast his eyes over to Fenrir, glowering, but said nothing. He had told Draco that although they associated with Fenrir's pack, they had never officially joined. Donovan mentioned something about certain rules he wasn't too keen on and Draco didn't need or bother to ask for more information. He knew Greyback by reputation.

Draco looked over at Kenna, still sitting in the corner trying to make herself small. Like a dog who had been beaten. When Fenrir blew her a kiss she shrank back even farther. Draco pressed his hands hard into the white wall, wanting to throw his fist into it. So it wasn't just Draco who had traumatised her. Not that it really made him feel any better about it.

Donovan wasn't stupid. He had pledged himself to Greyback for protection against Draco. To protect his sister from him. But by bonding themselves to Greyback, they now had to obey the Alpha of the pack. Draco might not have been a wolf, but he knew enough about Greyback to know he liked his meat fresh, young, and supple.

It was his fault too.

So he was going to fix this. He was going to fix everything.

"Donovan, Kenna, and Fergus sold their services to me," Draco snapped. "If you want them, then you'll have to take them. Aren't those your rules?"

Fenrir glanced at the wand at Draco's side. Everyone had seen Rowle's eye and Yaxley's hand and licked his lips. Draco wanted to add Fenrir's mouth to his list.

"You think you can take me, pretty boy?" Fenrir barked out a laugh and pulled his leather coat off, tossing it to the side.

Draco's hand twitched.

"Fight me like a man. Like a wolf. Take them from me, and by the laws of the pack they're yours." Fenrir ripped off his shirt and let it fall to the ground, tossing his wand with it. His hairy chest expanded as he flexed his muscles and Draco felt the energy tighten in the circle of wolves around him. There were puckered scars and bite marks all over Fenrir's body, but they were all healed. It even looked like something had taken a chunk out of his right side. Still, he was standing. Surviving.

And Draco was barely making it through each day.

The last fucking thing he wanted to do was disarm himself while surrounded by hostile wolves. He glanced at Fergus who was watching him with careful eyes, at Donovan who had stepped back, still staring at the ground, and then Kenna who pulled her coat closed around her throat. He wouldn't get any help from them. He was on his own. Granger pushed up on the floorboards, trying to get out. Almost alone because if he failed, she'd die too.

"Or are you gonna pussy out like you did on the tower?"

Draco turned his storming eyes back on Fenrir. He didn't know shit about what happened on the tower. If he did, he wouldn't be fucking standing here right now. Draco unclasped his cloak and it fell back like a black curtain to pool at his feet. Then he threw his wand down.

Fenrir growled a snarling smile, scratching his claws along his chest and drawing five thin lines of blood. "Shirt too. I want to see your blood."

All Draco could think about were his scars. They were all going to see them. They were all going to know how fucked up he really was. He paused, considering just fucking walking out of here. He didn't have to do this. He didn't owe those wolves anything. They hated him, they had left him. Gone off and joined up with Greyback instead of staying with him even after he had made them rich.

But he only needed them for a little while longer. After that they could fuck off wherever they wanted to. However if he left them here with Greyback they would never be free again. He couldn't take back what he had done to Kenna, but he could at least offer her an out if she wanted it.

Draco pulled off his shirt.

The air turned colder as a ripple passed around the circle. He could hear them talking about the ugly, jagged lines across his chest and found a small measure of sick satisfaction in the flicker of fear over Fenrir's face.

Draco had survived too.

And even with all of Fenrir's battle scars, he didn't have the dark mark on his arm. He was an animal with tainted blood, not worthy of bearing the Dark Lord's mark. Fenrir was vicious, but Draco was calculated.

Draco kept his own expression impassive, like it was carved onto his face. He couldn't let these wolves know how much he fucking hated the fact that they could all see how ruined he was now. He imagined Granger's hand running over the white lines and was able to breathe again. When he got her back she could run her tongue over them, tracing them down his chest and body and for just a minute he wouldn't feel broken anymore.

Fenrir licked his own blood from the tips of his claw like nails. "I hear you like knives, pretty boy. Just like your aunt. I'll let you use one." He smiled again, teeth long and sharp. "For sport."

Some of the wolves in the circle laughed.

Draco dipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and felt the cold metal inside. He had commissioned a down-and-out goblin to craft a weapon for him in case one of his wolves ever turned on him. He stretched out his fingers before slipping them through each of the holes, tightening his fist over the silver tipped brass knuckles, letting them flash in the low light.

"I don't mind getting my hands dirty," Draco said in a low voice.

Fenrir eyed the silver gleaming on Draco's hand and growled. "You won't be so pretty when I'm done with you."

Draco smirked and raised his fist.

.

He barely made it out onto the street before he collapsed. There was blood everywhere. In his eyes, in his mouth, in his hair, on his hands, soaking through the fabric of the shirt he had quickly thrown back on after Donovan and a few other wolves had pulled him off of Fenrir.

The wolf's mouth had been a gaping, bloody hole and Draco's hand shook so much the silver brass knuckles had fallen to the floor with a resounding clank into a puddle of dark red blood. He couldn't stop staring at the mess of a man he had left on the floor.

Donovan shoved his wand back into his hand. "Go," he growled.

Draco looked at him blankly.

"You won," he spat. "We're bound to you now, but if you don't get the fuck out of here one of them is going to jump on you and even with all four of us we won't make it out of here alive. Go, Malfoy. You don't belong here. This is pack business."

Draco tried to wipe the wolf's blood off with his cloak but it was everywhere, smeared over him, thick and sticky.

He couldn't get it off.

Falling into the side of the building, Draco felt the bitter wind cut through his wet clothes, turning the warm blood cold inside and out. His thigh was bleeding badly, his holster shredded and barely hanging onto the torn fabric of his trousers. He didn't even want to look down at the dark wound that was steadily pumping blood out of him.

He tried a healing charm, but the skin was mangled and having trouble trying to knit itself back together. Swearing loudly, Draco abandoned his effort and instead scourgify'd himself over and over until his skin felt raw and turned pink from the harsh spell instead of red from the spilled blood.

He couldn't see straight. The world was spinning too fast, turning this way and that. He pressed his back into the bricks, trying to balance as sharp, quick breaths of cold air stabbed into his chest again and again but he couldn't keep any of them in and his throat was closing and it tasted like blood and his vision was getting darker and darker and nothing was stopping. Nothing but him.

Draco sank to his knees, ripping the trap door open. He wanted to hide down there. With her. With Granger. Not think about the sound of the crack of Fenrir's jaw or the way that the blood had felt, smooth and warm, flowing over Draco's hand as he punched it into the bloody maw over and over and over.

Fenrir was a monster and deserved what he got.

It was good that Draco had done that.

He had helped.

He had helped.

He had done it for her.

So why did he feel like this? Like his heart had been punched out of his chest and all that was left was the cold empty hole?

Granger climbed out of the trap door and threw her arms around him. Draco buried his face in her neck, in her hair, smelling the sweet vanilla and cinnamon he missed so fucking much. He couldn't smell the blood anymore. He couldn't feel anything. His blood felt hot and cold at the same time, like it was sitting still in his veins, but his heart was thundering in his chest, beating so hard it hurt.

Draco held her tighter, squeezing her, not able to let go even when she tried to push him away.

"Draco, don't do this."

"I'm sorry," he gasped, forcing the words from his tight throat. "I'm so sorry."

He pressed her against the white marble walls and they cracked, crumbling down. Draco and Hermione fell down amongst the rubble. He covered her small body with his own, protecting her from the sharp rocks falling all around them.

Black spots danced in his vision and for a moment he wasn't sure if he was in his head with Granger or here alone on the street.

Granger. He had done all of this for Granger.

But she was gone. The floorboards were gone, the walls were gone. There was nothing but black darkness closing in.

Draco's leg gave a weak throb and he sank down onto the frozen concrete, head falling back and eyes sliding closed.

.

As soon as she finished helping Harry set the tent up again, Hermione turned and walked off into the frost covered trees. Her shoes crunched over the leaves, but she didn't bother casting a silencing charm. Ron had set up the wards while she and Harry worked on the tent and Hermione had felt the second they locked into place; strong, solid walls surrounding them.

Ron had gotten quite good at protective wards over the last few weeks, practicing them while recovering since he couldn't do much else, and now it was a set routine that wherever they camped, Hermione and Harry set about the meticulous magical spells of raising the tent while Ron cast wide barriers to protect them.

But there was something almost… oppressive about his enchantments. As if the magic was keeping them in the same as keeping others out. Not that it helped their dynamic; the combined stress building up in the tent between the three of them felt like it was enough to break through the protection charms on its own. Hermione knew she shouldn't wander off too far on her own, but sitting around with the awful tension pushing them all apart was the last thing she wanted to do.

She also didn't want to deal with Harry requesting updates on her research or Ron shooting dark looks in her direction. Alone in the woods she only had to worry about the Draco who was living in her head who she was decidedly ignoring. Even if he was the only one she could stand right now.

"And that's why you came all the way out here, to be with me. What a good girl you are."

Hermione stomped on a branch and it cracked loudly, echoing in the lonely woods. At least if a Snatcher came along, she could hex them and not have to deal with their moody grudges or constant questions about horcruxes.

But talking to Harry was the only conversation she had recently. Ron had not spoken to her in days. Not that she exactly wanted to speak with him either, but still, it didn't help the heavy mood hanging over all of them and turning the atmosphere inside the tent just as cold as the winter wind outside. She was used to him turning red and getting angry, but now he was only sulking and snatching the locket from her without looking her in the eyes and marching out of the tent every time he had to go on watch.

Hermione noticed his wand never left his hand now. He even slept with it gripped in his fist.

And more than that, she knew why. Ron had said he wanted Draco to pay for what he had done and finding out that she was still dreaming about him, still in love with him, seemed to be the thing to finally solidify Ron's drive to confront Draco over their mission to find the horcruxes. In her dreams she now worried about the figure from the hill coming down and finding her behind the tree with the Death Eater. And neither awake or asleep did Hermione know what she would do if this ever happened.

"Fucking let him try. He doesn't have a luck potion working for him now and I've had months to sharpen my skills."

Hermione wrapped her coat around herself tighter and waved her wand, sending a warming charm over herself. Winter was fully setting in: bland cloudy skies and dark dead trees surrounded her. She wondered how her parents were doing in Australia. Were they enjoying the summer sun? Basking on the beach? Did Crookshanks like it, batting at butterflies and… and…

She wiped her misty eyes before the tears could fall and turn cold on her cheeks. Hermione had refused to cry ever since they left to hunt horcruxes. She knew if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. She missed her parents and her cat. She missed school and her classes. She missed Ginny and Neville and Luna. She missed going to see Hagrid on weekends and taking the long route to the Library that let her pass by the window with the best view of the Lake. She even missed watching Quidditch matches.

And she missed Draco.

Dear Godric, she missed Draco. Missed his snarky little comments, his crooked smirk across a classroom, his rain grey eyes hovering over her, his cool touch and rough kisses, his breath in her ear as he told her how good she felt, how much he loved fucking her, how much he loved her.

"You don't have to miss me. Walk outside that barrier, you know I'll find you."

The Draco in her head wasn't the same. She knew it wasn't really him. That it was just something her imagination conjured up because thinking about never seeing him again was too hard, too painful. But it was the cold reality she would have to accept at some point: Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater and according to him, there was only one way to stop being a Death Eater. Loving her certainly wasn't enough to stop him, so her love for him shouldn't stand in her way of trying to help Harry and fighting against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

She had forced herself to start using his rightful name, Lord Voldemort last year, but at Ronald's request she had reverted back to using the informal title most wizards called him by. She had tried everything to mend their friendship and had only done more damage to it.

Hermione stopped walking. The tent was out of sight and the wind blew around the small clearing she found herself in. Blinking, she turned her face up and looked at the bright but blank sky. It looked so cold up there. But in a strange way, peaceful. Especially compared to the war she found herself in down here on the ground. How much longer could they run? Sooner or later they would have to fight. At least that was one thing they could still do together.

"Walking off into the woods is helping Potter how? Going to lure in some Snatchers and hope you can overpower them and that they just happen to know the Dark Lord's secrets? Just because you dropped out of school doesn't mean you have to act stupid."

She didn't like that Draco had called him the Dark Lord. Or Master. She remembered hearing him talk about his oath and his Lord in the Restricted Section after he had taken Veritaserum and how disturbing hearing those words were to her. She should have known then that it was a lost cause, that nothing would ever make him change. If he cared at all about her, if he loved her like he claimed, then he would have at least told her about the mark instead of letting her find out on her own in a bathroom in the middle of the night.

"Would you have preferred I showed it to you when you were on your knees for me then?"

Hermione walked further into the clearing and took a deep breath of the cool air, trying to clear her head. Draco had put so much effort into hiding the mark and she felt a little foolish in hindsight that she hadn't figured it out. Maybe it was because she hadn't wanted to.

After all, the signs were all there; his refusal to take off his shirt, his mentioning having to "work" some nights, his frequent use of the Room of Requirement… And she had ignored them all because she was so sure that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would not use a student to do his bidding, even arguing with Harry late into the night about it. She had been certain that she was right. It wasn't often she was wrong but…

But she had been wrong about him. So why didn't this love feel wrong now?

"It's not. We're perfect together. You know that, Granger. You can feel it when I'm inside you."

Hermione sat down on some exposed roots of a large tree, tilted her ankles out so that her knees rested against each other and slipped off her gloves to pick at her hands. Her warming charm was working too well and was actually making her a little overheated under all the layers she wore these days. She had always run warm, but spending hours outside in December stole away her body's natural heat faster than she thought possible.

Draco had felt so cool against her the night on the chaise that he had bared himself fully for the first time. The Instant Darkness Powder made perfect sense now. At the time she thought it was just another one of the things he liked, just like calling her names and tying her up. And she couldn't say that the idea of complete darkness wasn't enticing to her as well. But it was just another way to lie so he could get what he wanted from her. Her hands burned in the cold air, remembering the way his skin had felt.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking about his chest against hers, their bodies moving together with nothing separating them. And they had slept like that. But of course he ruined it all the next morning by turning back into the selfish prick he always... Hermione's eyes went wide.

Draco hadn't been upset they had fallen asleep together. He had pulled himself away from her and hurried to get dressed, putting his shirt on first! Goodness, the arm with the mark on it had been around her body! She had rubbed her fingers over the back of it, admiring the muscles under the pale marble skin. Draco had yelled at her not because he was disgusted by her, but because he was terrified that she would see it.

Her chest felt heavy with the weight of this knowledge. If she would have seen it that morning, would things be different now? They would have had more time to talk about things, maybe she could have convinced him not to go through with his mission and to… to be with her instead somehow. To spend every night like they had that night and every day waking up in his arms. She would never forget how his face had looked that morning, shrouded in sleep.

Now he wore a Death Eater's mask over it.

She still thought about it sometimes, how Draco's arms felt around her, his leg on top of her lower body. If she hadn't known better, she would have said she could feel his love in his embrace. Everything that happened on the chaise had been… incredible. Finally having all of Draco against her, on top of her, inside her. It was that night something had changed in her and she knew there was no going back.

There, in the darkness Draco created, Hermione had fallen in love with him.

His silver eyes shone. "You should have told me and I would have taken you away that night and I'd be holding you like that right now, pet."

Warm tears pricked in her eyes again. She was still in love with him. Having Draco shout at her or call her terrible names hadn't stopped her feelings. Seeing the mark hadn't stopped it, knowing he had attacked their classmates and was plotting Dumbledore's death hadn't stopped it. Letting the Death Eaters in the school and imperiusing her and trying to kidnap her and pushing her down and hurting her hadn't stopped it. Not even leaving her behind had made them stop.

Nothing would.

Not now, not ever.

Hermione was going to love Draco forever and there was nothing she or him could do to stop the steady beat of 'Draco' that her blood pumped to.

Draco leaned forward, smirk spreading over his curved lips. "Good. Because I'm never going to stop either. One day I am going to find you and I will do all the dirty little things you think about late at night after your 'friends' fall asleep and you reach down and touch my fucking mark on your leg. And you know what, kitten? You're going to let me."

It was too much. This was all just too much. Her heart felt like it was bruising with every beat, her chest was caving in, and her head was filling with all the messy thoughts she had been shoving in the back and trying to avoid for the last six months.

"Please," Hermione closed her eyes against the tears, keeping them in. "Please let me stop. I'll do anything. Just let me stop. Let this stop."

The cold winter wind moved through the dead trees, rattling the branches above her. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold her body together because it felt like it was breaking. Everything was breaking and she didn't know what to do anymore and there weren't any books to help you when your best friend hated you and your other best friend might be killed and the person you were in love with was supposed to be someone you hated and your parents didn't even remember you and your cat was on the other side of the world.

"Please-" She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Just… just stop."

"No."

"Hermione, are you out here?"

Everything halted and Hermione froze in place. Harry was calling for her. How long had she been out here? It was starting to get dark and she knew she should get back to the tent. It wasn't safe out here alone. It wasn't safe out here at all. It wasn't just Snatchers she had to worry about. Hermione knew Draco was out there, hunting her. Did she want to be found?

She wasn't sure. But she did know she didn't want to sit in the tent and suffer under the stony silence between the boys while pretending to read and just wait for them to start snoring so she felt safe enough to fall asleep. She was so tired; exhaustion wasn't a strong enough word for it anymore. After the other night and saying Draco's name out loud while Ron was trying to wake her, Hermione was terrified that she was going to call out again in her sleep and woke with a sudden jolt at least three times a night.

Goodness, she had nearly pulled Ron on top of her thinking he was Draco! He was never going to forgive her for that, never going to forgive her for loving Draco or sleeping with him, or anything she had ever done now because the look in his eyes that night… Ron had never looked at her like that before. She wasn't even sure Draco ever had, even back when he thought she was only a dirty little Mudblood. And Ron hadn't met her eyes since.

"Hermione?"

Hermione shrank back against the tree. If Harry didn't see her she could stay out here for a little while longer in order to pull herself together. Get ready for the night in the tent sitting between the two of them while they all bit their tongues and kept their eyes down trying to avoid the fight they all knew was coming.

And she could spend a little more time with Draco.

"That's my girl."

Because even though he wasn't real, the feelings she still had for him were.

Hermione could hear Harry moving off, calling her name in a different direction and the shuffle of his feet over the frost covered ground. She breathed out, relieved that she still had another few minutes to herself. The warming charm was growing and Hermione pulled her coat off, trying to escape the increasing heat. In her struggle she knocked her gloves and wand to the ground.

"Fiddlesticks," Hermione muttered and brushed the leaves away, trying twice before collecting her wand back up and dropping one of her gloves back down in the process. Hermione looked around, the weak sun was setting and the shadows were deepening quickly, but the warming charm hung over her heavily enough that even with her coat sitting on the roots of the tree, her skin felt overheated. She waved her wand to end the spell and sighed as the rush of cool air rushed over her.

"You're going to get sick like this."

"I'm already sick," Hermione muttered. "I'm talking to a figment of my imagination like he's a real person."

"Miss me?" His silver eyes flashed in the darkness.

"Like a hole in the head," she grumbled.

Draco smirked. "Lucky for you I know what to put in it to make the loneliness go away."

Hermione stood up, face flushed from what she was deciding was the winter wind and nothing else. "I want you to go away."

Draco laughed. "I'm only here because you want me to be. I'll go away the second you don't want me here anymore. I always told you you'd have an out if you wanted it."

Hermione tossed her head to the side, pursing her chapped lips. "This is ridiculous. I'm going back to ignoring you."

"And I'm going back to your memory of the chaise. Remember how you begged? How you moaned?"

"Draco-"

"A little more breathy than that, kitten. And you held the 'o' out longer too. Potter's gone; stick your hand in between those thighs and I'll teach you how to say my name right."

Hermione shoved her gloves on and marched off in the direction Harry had come from.

"You're right, let's go back to the tent. You can kick Weasley out into the cold and then strip down for me and-"

Hermione started running. The light was fading fast and before she knew it dark trees were speeding past her. The air was so cold it hurt to breathe in and soon she was taking sharp gasps of it, just enough to keep her momentum as her body heat was stolen by the bitter air surrounding her.

"Your tits are bouncing, Granger. And, ah yes… your nipples are hard. Is that from the cold or me?"

Hermione slowed as the tent came back into view. They were camped alongside a small stream and Hermione watched the steam rise off the top of it. She could smell something cooking inside the tent and her heart jumped at the thought of a warm meal. While putting up the tent Harry had mentioned he wanted to try and catch a fish and from the smell of it, he had accomplished at least one goal today. He'd probably be in a decent mood when he came in from his watch.

They could worry about the horcruxes tomorrow, after a hot dinner and a good night's rest. It would be her turn to wear the locket in the morning and without Draco whispering filthy things from the back of her head, maybe she could work on translating the strange rune she found in Dumbledore's book. It was the last clue she had before she admitted defeat and told Harry it was useless.

"You know I took six years of runes too. I could help… if you show me those pretty little tits of yours."

Hermione pushed her tangled curls back as she drew closer to the tent, trying to catch her breath before she went inside. Her hair was getting harder to manage now having grown longer during their months on the run. She could only imagine how bushy it had gotten without proper time or effort put into its care.

A single curl fell back over her face and Hermione sent an angry huff of air up at it, blowing it from her eyes.

Draco had always loved to run his hands through her curls or twist one around his finger, tugging on it playfully. And she did too. Hermione had always felt self conscious about her wild hair, but Draco's attention to it made her proud of her thick curls for the first time in her life.

She opened the flap of the tent and strode in. Ron was in the kitchenette, steam rising from the stove as he tended to the fish in the pan.

Hermione stopped a few feet in when he turned to look at her over his shoulder, his expression falling at the sight of her.

"Fucking forget him, Granger. You leave that fucker to me because when I turn my wand on him I'll-"

She couldn't stand the idea of Draco and Ron facing off against one another. Maybe if she played nice, Ron would drop his vendetta against Draco. Or…. at least focus back on their current mission. If they could find and destroy all of the horcruxes and somehow help to end the war Draco wouldn't be her enemy anymore and then there wouldn't be a reason for Draco and Ron to go after each other-

"Sweetheart," Draco snorted. "There's still a fucking reason and its the fact that the ginger prick you are goddamn living with wants to fuck what's mine."

"It smells really good in here!" Hermione's voice was much too high to be considered normal and she fiddled with the gloves in her hands.

Ron turned back to the small stove and her shoulders fell a little. Great. He still wasn't speaking to her. The fish popped in the pan. He was probably only going to give her the bones.

"Where's your coat?" Ron's tone was accusatory, but at this point, she would take what she could get just to start somewhere with him. They couldn't keep going like this, not if they wanted to work together to find the horcruxes.

"Oh," Hermione glanced down. "I… took it off outside and must have left it…"

She bit her lip and glanced back at the flap. It was dark and late, there was no point in wandering around in the woods looking for her coat now. She hadn't even really paid attention to where she was going earlier, just… not wanting to be… here.

"And you're just going to leave it out there?" Ron turned and leaned against the small counter.

Hermione let go of her lip and opened her mouth, feeling a bit like the fish in the pan before she said, "I just... don't want to go back-"

"Are you sure about that?" Ron snapped. He had his arms crossed and she saw his wand in his hand again.

Hermione let out a long breath and unwrapped the scarf around her neck. "Ronald-"

"You know what, you're right. You don't want to go back. You don't want to go back to when we were friends or when you weren't dreaming about fucking a Death Eater."

"Ron!" Enough playing nice, she wasn't going to let him speak to her that way.

"Go ahead and tell me you weren't! Hermione, you nearly kissed me thinking I was him!"

"You WHAT?!"

She took a sharp breath and held it in her chest as Draco rushed forward from the back of her mind, white faced and furious.

Ron took a few steps towards her. His ears were beet red and his freckles looked dark in the dim light.

Draco clenched his jaw. "Granger, walk out of this tent right fucking now."

Hermione stood her ground, raising her chin up. She wasn't going to run. Not this time. Ron wasn't Draco.

"You have no right to be upset with me over that."

Ron's red brows shot up his forehead. "Seriously? You think killing Dumbledore might have put you off the guy, but I guess not! Tell me, Hermione-" Ron stormed across the tent. "Was it his his gold that got you off or his-"

She slapped him.

Hermione had never hit Ron before. She had yelled at him, scolded him, sent birds pecking after him, but the only other time she had even hit someone had been… Draco.

Ron's face was a startling red color and he lifted his hand up to touch his cheek softly where her handprint was clearly marking his freckled face. Hermione was fuming, out of breath again even though she was standing still.

Ron's voice was low when he finally spoke again. "You know, I defended you."

"Granger, get the fuck out of this tent. You don't need to hear this. I mean it."

"When you kept disappearing last year, Lavender had this wild idea that you were screwing Malfoy and I told her she was crazy. Even when we weren't even speaking, I stood up for you. It caused a lot of problems between Lavender and me, but I didn't care. I did it for you."

Hermione's heart was slamming against her ribcage. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as adrenaline coursed through every inch of her. Ron wasn't meeting her eyes. He was staring down at the wand in his hand, a red fist balled around it.

"I didn't believe her. Wouldn't believe her." He lifted his head back up and Hermione was greeted with a sharp spark in his blue eyes and the sight of her small hand across his face. "I told her you would never do something like that. Not you. Not the Hermione Granger who was my best friend. Who I-"

Hermione's throat closed and she felt too hot again, like the warming charm had come back only worse this time because there was no cool air to combat it. There was only this stifling, charged energy between them.

"Who he fucking what?"

"And what did you do to thank me for my loyalty to you?" Ron snarled. "You were out there, fucking Malfoy, just like Lavender said you were."

"Ron-"

"You know how many fights we had about you?"

"Who the fuck does he think he is?!"

"I never meant-"

"Do you know you are the reason we broke up?"

"I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with the fact that he's a COMPLETE DICKHEAD!"

"I didn't want you to-"

"And what were you doing while I was defending your bloody honor?!"

"No one asked you-"

"Say it!"

"I swear on Salarzar's watery grave if he doesn't shut the fuck up-"

"Ron-"

"I want you to fucking tell me what you were doing with him!"

"Tell him. Fucking tell him, Granger."

"I am not going to-"

"Why not? You could do it, but you can't own up to it? Is that why you're still lying to Harry about it? Even now that the two of you are so close. Think he'd still want you around if he knew you were fucking Malfoy all last year?"

"Why haven't you told him then? If it means so much to you then why are you keeping it a secret too?!" Hermione shouted, unable to stop the roaring in her chest from coming out. She knew she had hurt Ron by being with Draco, but it didn't mean he got to treat her like this. They were still friends, he needed to start acting like it too.

"Just fucking curse him, Granger. Hurt him."

Ron stood fuming in front of her, trying not to say the words so clearly on the tip of his tongue.

Hermione pushed forward. "You lied to McGonagall about it. You've lied to Harry about it. Why are you protecting me if you obviously hate me for it?"

"It's easy, pet, just lift your want and repeat after me-"

"I don't know," Ron admitted. "I don't know what I'm fucking doing when it comes to you. I don't even know why I'm still here. Harry doesn't need me. You sure as fuck don't want me. You'd rather have a Death Eater than me." He shook his head in harsh disappointment. "I thought… I thought you were different than other girls. I thought there was more to you."

The words fell right through her, landing with a heavy thud somewhere where her stomach was supposed to be. This was it. Ron's real feelings, finally coming to the surface. Maybe if she had tried harder or pushed the Draco in her head farther away or maybe if she would have figured out how to destroy the horcrux by now none of this would be happening. She wouldn't have to hear her best friend saying what she feared the most from him; that she would never be good enough.

"Oh fuck this! Fuck him and his self righteous bullshit! What the fuck does he even know about you? I know you. Don't listen to him. Weasley spent six years ignoring you and only wanted you when he saw you were happy with someone else. Me. I'm the one who saw there was more to you. I'm the one who showed you. You don't need Weasley OR Potter. You only need me. I'm the only one who loves you now."

The lump in Hermione's throat pressed in painfully, catching the words she was trying to force herself to say. She didn't want to hear this. Not Ron, not Draco, not any of it.

"Stop," she said in a voice so small even she could barely hear it.

"I wish you had stopped before you fucked our friendship to hell in Malfoy's bed."

"I am going to kill him. I am going… to kill Weasley!"

"Just… stop talking!" Hermione shoved her hands into her messy curls, holding her head. And for the first time in weeks, Draco went silent. Hermione gasped and blinked her eyes, trying to make the tent come back into focus around her. She was just so angry and upset and finally- it was enough to overpower Draco's voice.

If only it was that easy with Ron.

"Stop loving Malfoy then," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I have been TRYING!" Hermione felt heat rush into her face. "Trying so hard to make things work between you and I again. I do everything you want me to, Ron! I never get angry with you even when you damn well deserve it! You said you'd always be there for me, but I have been struggling for months and all you've done is make me feel worse! And… and more than that you aren't even helping Harry and I. You don't research, you complain about going on watch, about moving camp, about the food, about the cold, about wearing the locket-"

"All you do is mope around!" Ron shouted back. "Sticking your nose in a book to avoid having to spend any time with me!"

"WHY WOULD I? When you treat me like this?!"

Ron glared at her. "Isn't asshole your type though? Don't tell me dear Draco was actually sweet to you-"

"More than you've been lately."

Ron's face flushed scarlet and Hermione sharply closed her mouth. She couldn't take her eyes off of Ron's face even when he dropped his gaze down between them. The color turned blotchy under his eyes and Hermione thought she saw a faint shine in them.

"You think this has been easy for me? My family is out there, fighting and losing, Hermione. And I'm stuck in here doing fuck all while you and Harry have your little book clubs and act like I'm not even here half the time. I thought… we'd be okay if I just gave it some time, but, shit…"

Ron glanced up at her, hurt boiling in his crystal eyes and for the smallest moment, Hermione felt for him, for her friend. Even if she didn't particularly like him right now, she hated the fact that it was her who was making him feel this terrible. She knew what it was like to feel alone and scared and have no one to turn to. At least she had the Draco in her head and Ron had always had his friends and family to support him, but not anymore.

"I've tried. I've tried to forgive you, Hermione, I really have but…" Ron pinched his lips together.

Hermione's whole body was shaking and she breathed out, "But what?"

Ron took a moment before answering. "But I can't get that image of him on top of you out of my head! Shit, I wish I never went looking for you that night! I wish-"

Hermione blinked, her lungs empty of air and frozen in her chest.

"I wish we weren't in this shitty tent day in and day out. I wish we weren't looking for horcruxes and finding fuck all. I wish I knew if Ginny was okay, Mum and Dad and-" Ron pulled his hand over his face. "I wish we weren't following Harry on his crazy fucking mission from a man who trusted a Death Eater with his life. I wish…" He looked right at her with tired blue eyes, the anger gone from them and replaced with a deep, soulful hurt. "I wish I didn't feel this way about you."

Hermione's heart clenched painfully. Ron had been her best friend for years. They had fought side by side, he had comforted her after her nightmares, and made her laugh so she could forget them. Now they could barely finish a sentence and when they did it was only because they were screaming at each other. How had they come to this?

"Guys- Guys!" Harry threw open the flap to the tent.

"Harry, now's really not a good time," Ron started.

Harry ignored him and pulled on Hermione's arm, spinning her around. "Goblins-" he gasped, out of breath, "in the woods with Dean and Tonks' dad and some other guy. They said- said-"

The shock of this jolted Hermione from the broken depths of her heart and set her mind into overdrive. "What?" she asked, big eyes wide, staring straight into Harry's, brighter than she had seen them in weeks. Good Godric, Harry looked ecstatic.

"The sword of Gryffindor- its goblin made- and it's a fake!"

"What?"

"They moved it from Hogwarts but the one the Death Eaters have isn't real! The real one is Goblin made which means-"

Hermione let out a small scream and grabbed onto Harry's shirt, catching onto his garbled train of thought. "It took on the basilisk venom!"

Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. Harry was grinning ear to ear, his heart pounding in his chest under her hands. "And that means-"

"It can destroy horcruxes!"

She jumped into Harry's arms and he hugged her tightly. Finally! Finally. They just had to get the sword and they would have a way to destroy the locket and any other horcruxes they found. Hermione felt like she could cry with happiness. All the anxiety and stress of the past few months felt lifted from her. They were going to be okay, they had a way to-

"Well that's just fucking great," Ron cut in and Hermione felt Harry's arms slide from around her. "So the sword can destroy horcruxes. Brilliant. Where is it?"

Harry's face fell back into its frustrated scowl. "I don't know."

"Wow. So helpful." Ron scoffed.

"Ron, it is helpful," Hermione protested. "We are one step closer to-"

"No, we are about a thousand steps farther! Now we have to find this sword? And not even the Death Eaters know where it is? How the hell are we supposed to get it then?!"

"What else do you suggest we do?" Harry rounded on him. "Sit around and wait for someone else to defeat You-Know-Who?"

Ron shrugged. "Well it's not like you're really doing that much, wandering around the countryside, hiding out while the real Order members are out there risking their necks!"

"Ron!" Hermione tried to stop them, but the two boys were facing off with each other.

Harry's voice dropped. "You knew what we were coming out here to do; I told you everything Dumbledore told me!"

"Great! Because he knew so much. Leading you to a fake horcrux! Trusting Snape and getting himself killed over it! Yeah, let's follow his lead and all be dead by Christmas!"

Hermione felt too warm again, like she was stuck in a pot of water, slowly coming to a boil.

Harry spoke in a strangely calm voice that sent a strange shiver down Hermione's spine. "We found the real horcrux, in case you've forgotten. It's hanging around your neck."

The locket...

Hermione reached for Ron, trying to pull him back from Harry. "Take it off, Ron," she pleaded. Her fingers fumbled against his shirt as she tried to grab onto the chain. "Take off the locket-"

"Get off me!" Ron grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands back from him, pushing her away.

"Don't fucking start on her." Harry was glowering at Ron and Hermione watched his wand drop from his sleeve into his hand in one smooth movement.

Ron snarled at Harry. "Oh, standing up for her now? You didn't give a shit about her last year at school when I asked to borrow the map to find out where she was going. All you cared about was watching my sister on it so you could see when she was snogging Dean! Did you ask him about that out there in the woods? Or were you too concerned about your bloody sword?"

Hermione looked quickly between Harry and Ron, fear spiking up in her, sending burning hot shots down her arms.

"That's what I thought! No one matters to you anymore, Harry, you don't care about Ginny anymore either! Flirting and dancing with her at Bill's wedding… I fucking told you to leave her alone, but you're Harry Potter, the Chosen One so everyone should just do as you say, huh? Well not me! Not anymore!"

"Then go!" Harry bellowed. "Go! Leave the locket and get the fuck out."

Ron gritted his teeth and glanced at Hermione.

She was frozen in place, unable to move, to talk, to even think. Everything was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. They were breaking, shattering. She could barely breathe, let alone say anything that would calm either of them down. They had come too far.

Ron tore the locket from over his head, throwing it on the ground between them.

"Are you going to choose someone else over me again?" he asked, chest rising and falling.

Hermione looked to Harry whose shoulders tensed and he dropped his gaze to the floor where the locket lay in between the three of them, his eyes turning a dark, glittering green.

"I…" Hermione stammered. She had given up everything to help Harry, to fight this war with him. And she had always assumed Ron would be at his side as well. She couldn't leave now. She had lost her parents for this, and left school for this… She had given up on Draco for this. "I can't." Ron's eyes turned as cold as ice. "We said we'd help Harry, and-"

"Fine." He brushed past Harry, knocking his shoulder into his roughly and shoving him into Hermione.

"Ron-" Hermione righted herself and surged forward.

"Let him go, Hermione," Harry said darkly, his black hair falling into his emerald eyes.

"No! Ron, please!"

"Oh so now you care?" Ron spat, pausing with the flap of the tent open, letting in a gust of cold wind that whipped quickly around the tent, turning the air frigid. "Don't bother, Hermione. You've made your feelings very clear the other night."

"Ron, that- that wasn't-"

Why was he doing this? Now that they finally had a lead on something to help them? Why wasn't he happy? Her quick mind spun faster than it had in months, no longer conjuring up Draco and his crude comments. It was because Ron had been wearing the locket, that's why he had been so upset, that's why all of this had happened tonight. If Ron could just come back inside and they all calmed down for a moment-

Harry bent down and picked up the locket, slipping it around his neck.

Was this really happening?! Was she having to choose between Ron and Harry? She couldn't. She couldn't lose anyone else. Ron was her best friend, but Harry… Harry needed her to help find the horcruxes. To help end the war. And hopefully, at the end of it, she might be able to find a way to have more than the shadow of Draco in the back of her mind.

Hermione bit her lip and Ron glanced at her one last time as if he was expecting her to change her mind. When she didn't he shook his head darkly, an expression of disgust on his face, and turned towards Harry.

"Oh and by the way Harry," Ron's face turned a deep, angry shade of red as he nodded towards Hermione. "She's fucking Draco Malfoy."

.

A/N: Don't hate me.