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

15. FIFTEEN

A/N: Thank you to every single person who has come back to this story. I know I've been gone a while but I appreciate you all so much for sticking with this story and it's crazy/random update schedule that doesn't really exist. I hope this long chapter makes up for the wait. You don't know how much you mean to me and all your well wishes made me feel so special. Thank you so much for all of your lovely, wonderful comments! It makes me so happy to hear from you.

I love you all, dear readers.

Thank you so much my darling Bree for betaing. Also for listening to me whine for months about this chapter and for yelling at me to stop rewriting it when I was spiraling.

Soundtrack- "Sick of Losing Soulmates" by dodie and "Dancing After Death" by Matt Maeson

FIFTEEN

.

Daylight blinded Draco. The earth rushed up underneath him and his chest felt like it was collapsing under its own weight. Even small breaths hurt; everything hurt. Especially the bright, white light searing through his eyelids and straight into his brain, stabbing the soft grey mess inside his skull. At least, he hoped it was still inside his skull. He wasn't sure what was left inside him anymore.

The only thing he could feel was pain. At least that was proof his heart was still beating; only living hurt this much.

And Granger had made him do it.

Bitch.

He gripped her hand tighter and felt her squeeze back.

Granger.

Draco slowly turned his head and was met with a pair of eyes. The color hadn't returned to his vision yet and everything was still blurry, like he was looking at the world through a sheet of rain. But he could see deep grey, ever so slowly turning to… brown. Brown like rich, melted chocolate. Brown like swirls of cinnamon, thick and warm. Brown and big like a doe's eyes. His girl's eyes.

No, he couldn't die yet. Not with her…

"Grang…er…"

She… smiled. And sunlight illuminated the rest of the colors in his limited field of vision. There was a strange ringing in his ears and it grew louder, stronger, turning into shouting and screams.

Then Granger's hand was ripped from his and her eyes went wide.

"—get these off her!"

Draco felt his blood thicken with fury as Weasley pulled her away from him, practically sitting on her and trying everything he could to get the chains off of Granger's wrists. She had his wand clasped tight and Draco's blood surged at the sight of it. He wanted to snatch it and take Weasley's fingers off one at a time.

Fletcher had cried for mercy when Draco took his off.

Maybe the whole hand at once then.

But… Yaxley had screamed until his lungs gave out as his hand crumpled.

He'd figure something out when his head didn't feel like it was going to explode with each pump of blood into it. And… out of it.

Just like Theo's as Draco's curse had kept his heart convulsing, beating blood out of his mouth long after he stopped breathing.

…Shit.

"Ron, Ron stop!" Granger shouted, pushing him back. One of the little straps of her lace dress fell over her shoulder.

Draco snarled and tried to sit up, but the world turned upside down in a wave of nausea. The ringing jumped from ear to ear and when he reached out to her. He couldn't feel the ground under him. Disoriented, he fell back down against the hard earth.

"Draco!"

"What did he do to you?" Weasley's sounded horror struck.

Good. He should be fucking terrified because Draco was going to take him apart, freckle by fucking freckle.

Just as soon as he could get off the ground. Which was proving to be a harder task than he originally assumed.

Still, he tried.

"Get OFF!" Granger pushed her chained hands into Weasley's chest and dislodged him, wriggling away and kicking her bare legs. Draco saw a flash of his mark on her inner thigh before she pressed them tightly together.

Weaslebee was back, pulling on the chains, trying to snap them. Fucking idiot.

"Ron, stop! They won't come off!"

"There has to be a way," he said through gritted teeth, his stupid face turning red from the effort.

"Get… off…" Draco breathed out heavily, trying again to push himself up. This time, using his other hand and cradling his arm to his chest. He could cast with his right. It wasn't as good as his left, but he reckoned he could still make Weasley scream. He just needed his wand back from—

"Draco!" Granger's attention turned to him, those big doe eyes widening again at the sight of him.

"This is your fault," Weasley snarled at him and Draco sneered back. He could feel the sticky blood starting to dry on his face. "You sick fucking—"

"Ronald!"

"LOOK AT HER!"

Draco glanced at Granger and had to admit, it looked bad. The sheer lace dress was torn, deep red spots speckled her neck and tops of her tits. Her hair was tangled and wild, and worst of all was the blood smeared on her forearm, leaking down to where the cuffs encircled her wrist.

Draco's head was swimming from sitting up and he started to feel nauseous. Fuck. This really hurt. But he wasn't the only one who had been wounded. Draco reached out, trying to see Granger's bleeding arm.

She let out a small whimper as Weasley yanked on the chain, pulling her hand away from his.

Draco spat blood onto the ground and bared his teeth.

"Ron, stop. I mean it." Granger's voice cut in the air between them. He just glared at her and then prodded the chains again with his wand, sending sparks flying as his charms bounced off. "You can't remove them! Only he can!"

Draco did his best to smirk. Only him. That's right, she needed him. Wanted him. Not that fucking weasel.

"What are you talking about?" Weasley's brows furrowed together.

"It's—" she winced, "a password. He has to…"

Weasley glared darkly at him. "Any tricks and I'll break your face open the rest of the way, Malfoy."

Draco swallowed down something sour that was creeping up his throat and focused on Granger, trying to turn her swaying images into one. Weasley could wait, Granger couldn't.

He held his palm out. "Sweetheart?" Draco was surprised by how slurred the word sounded.

Granger pulled her hands away from Weasley and dropped her wrists into his.

He really, really hoped she wouldn't leave him after this. That she wouldn't take off and run away with Weasley and Potter and leave him here to die. His shirt stuck to him, heavy with blood. He needed to do this fast because he wasn't going to stay upright much longer.

Draco brought her arm close to his face and breathed out over the iron cuff. He watched as goosebumps rose on her skin not covered in blood. His fault. He'd make it better though. Starting now.

"Lectio Nefastus."

The cuffs popped open and dropped to the ground.

Granger gasped and her big doe eyes widened like he loved.

"Thought you would have worked that one out, Sweetheart," Draco murmured before flattening his tongue and running it up the length of her arm, tasting the sweet tang of her blood.

He didn't know exactly why he did it, but it seemed like a good way to remind Weasley that Granger was his.

"Fucker."

Something heavy hit the side of his head and he heard Granger scream as he hit the ground once more.

The last thing Draco felt before the world faded from around him was Granger's hand, still clasping his.

.

Hermione had spent months locked up in a bedroom and she wasn't going to spend a single minute more being told she couldn't leave again. She was done waiting for the approval to see Draco. She had done as she was supposed to and sat still while her wounds were treated and dressed. The cut on her arm itched and burned when Fleur poured dittany on it, but at least it stopped bleeding.

Fleur had done her best, which was honestly very good. Hermione wondered how many times she had bandaged up someone to do it with this ease. Judging by the concentration that had been in Fleur's eyes, Hermione thought maybe there were some things she was better off not knowing.

Ron had thrown his jacket over her on the dunes and given her a heavy hug over the thick fabric. Hermione had still been shaking, staring down at Draco who looked as pale as death as Luna helped Mr. Ollivander, who was muttering something Hermione couldn't quite make out and Harry sat in the shallows, holding something small against his chest. Then Ron and Bill were picking up Draco, hauling him inside as Hermione ran after them, begging them to be careful.

She half expected Draco to open his eyes, throw her a wink and let her know it was all a joke, but he didn't. He just hung there in between them, still and silent. She tried to follow them, but Fleur had sat her down and started fussing over her and shoving her into a bedroom then Ron had shown up and handed her the beaded bag, telling her that her clothes were still in there while trying not to look at what she was currently dressed in.

It was chaotic, but Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"Is Draco okay?"

"The Order is taking care of him."

The door closed again so she could change. Real clothes felt strange after so long without them and Hermione quickly folded the white dress. Maybe she should have thrown it out, it was little more than ruined scraps, but… she shoved it deep inside her bag, behind a pile of books and started towards the door again.

Fleur had healed all the marks on her, except for the one on her thigh. Hermione could feel it, him, against the seam of her jeans as she climbed the stairs. He would be alright. He had to be. But cold logic told her that maybe he wouldn't. The beating he had taken escaping the Manor… She didn't think she would ever forget the agony blaring in his eyes or the hard lines digging into his face as he fought against the curse, trying to get to her.

She'd never forget the yowl Crookshanks had given a second before he fell. Hermione missed a step, nearly falling, but catching herself on the railing and leaned against it, breathing hard.

Crookshanks…

Her chest tore open and Hermione was surprised that her heart didn't fall right out of it and bounce back down the stairs. She closed her eyes against the threat of tears. She was back in the war now, she didn't have time to cry.

Not until she was wrapped up in Draco's arms so he could hold her together while she fell apart.

Draco. She couldn't lose him too. She refused to.

Hermione wiped at her eyes and forced her tired body up the rest of the stairs.

It was easy to tell which room was his because it was the one Bill and Ron were standing guard outside, talking in low voices. They stopped as she approached.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and Hermione noticed they had grown a little in size since she last saw him. Still covered in freckles though. Still Ron. Still… Was he still her friend?

"Hermione, I can't let you in," Bill said, sounding resigned.

She didn't say anything, just narrowed her eyes and waited.

"This is Order business. We have to wait until we hear back to know what we should do with him and—"

"What to do with him?" Her voice was much louder than she intended it to be, but it seemed to work because Bill blinked in shock. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We have limited resources and Malfoy is not a priority as much as—"

"You aren't healing him?!"

"He's… in stasis."

The blood rushed from Hermione's head. Draco was purposefully being left in pain. It was torture. "You can't do that!"

"Why's it a bad thing?" Ron's voice held anger underneath the casual tone. "Should have left him there with his own kind."

Hermione rounded on him. "He is my kind!" Both Weasleys looked taken aback for a moment and while Bill looked at her curiously, Ron's blue eyes merely glared. Hermione felt the newly freed creature in her chest flex its claws. "There is no 'his kind' or 'your kind'. Or have you forgotten what we are fighting for?"

"Have you?!" Ron fired back.

Hermione straightened her back, but still left her inches below Ron. After months of looking up to Draco, he didn't seem as much of a threat anymore. She pulled Draco's dark wand from her pocket.

"I am done with locked doors. I am done being told where I can and cannot go. So you will either let me through or I'll show you how much I remember about fighting."

She could practically hear Draco purring "Good girl," in the back of her head.

Fleur came up behind her. "Non. No fighting in ze houze. Bill, tell zem."

He didn't need to because Ron's face had flushed crimson and Hermione could see him warring with himself over what to do. "You'd curse your best friend," he spat the words at her, "for a git like him?"

The creature roared in Hermione's chest and it came out before she could stop it. "Harry's not here."

The effect was instantaneous. Ron's arms fell to his sides and his baby blue eyes softened, hurt reverberating in them as they darted between hers.

Hermione felt a pang of remorse, but buried it deep down. She raised her chin and held his gaze. No matter how much it hurt. And goodness, it hurt more than she thought it would.

Bill sighed heavily. "Fine, but when we hear back from Kingsley—"

It was good enough for her and she pushed past them into the small room.

He wasn't even on a bed, just a pile of old blankets on the floor. His shirt and coat were removed and his head and leaning to the side, the wound on it pressed against the dirty floor.

Hermione fell to her knees at his side. She knew they were watching her, or Draco more than likely, but she didn't care.

Some of his scars had torn open again to show deep red gashes across his pale skin. Too pale. And his arm… Dear Godric, his arm. It was splotched with purple and black bruises, the skin warm to the touch as she grazed the tips of her fingers carefully over it, making sure to avoid the dark mark which remained untouched, unaltered in the center.

"Fleur, can you bring the bandages from downstairs and Ron, do we have any of the essence of dittany left in my bag? I'm sure I can get these to close if…" She stopped talking when she realized no one else was moving. "What are you waiting for?" she asked, starting to panic.

"Hermione," Bill said gently as he stepped forward. "He's a Death Eater. We can't waste supplies on him."

They were going to let him die because of a stupid mark on his arm.

But Hermione wasn't.

She ripped the bandage off of her arm and lifted Draco's head, waving his wand to clean the wound and then winding her own blood soaked wrappings around it.

"Hermione, no!" Ron started forward.

She turned and glared at him. "Then help."

His blue eyes locked on hers and a variety of emotions passed through them before he said, "We're out of dittany. We used the last bit of yours after Knockturn."

"We're out now too," Bill added.

"We still 'ave some… comment dire, essence de…"

"Murtlap," Bill finished for her. "We have murtlap essence."

"Thank you," Hermione said pointedly. She wasn't asking.

Draco would be proud.

Bill said something about sending another message to Kingsley and Fleur left to fetch the murtlap essence and bandages. Hermione piled up a bit of the blankets underneath Draco's head to give him something soft to rest on.

She'd lobby for a bed once she had him on the mend.

The stasis charm had stopped his wounds from bleeding, but had also stopped them from clotting or healing. Hermione started with the small ones, taking the charm off, cleaning them and then trying to knit them back up before covering them with the murtlap soaked bandages.

"Is this what you did for me? When I was splinched?" She had almost forgotten Ron was still there until he spoke.

Hermione didn't turn or let it break her concentration."Something like this, yes." She charmed the bandages to wrap around Draco so she didn't have to move him. "But I had dittany so it was a little easier."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ron nod, evening sun catching his copper hair. "Then he's in good hands. I'm as good as new now."

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Ron looking down at her nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Ron looked down at his feet. "I—I'm going to help Harry." He looked up again. "He's burying Dobby on the dunes."

Hermione's heart gave a painful lurch. She wanted to help her friends, be there for them and comfort them. But Draco needed her.

"Tell him I'm sorry."

Ron didn't move. "Is that it?"

Hermione rounded on him. "What do you want me to say?"

He just shook his head and closed the door behind him. There was healing that needed to be done there too, but not as much as in front of her.

Hermione worked carefully, knowing how Draco already felt about his scars and did her best not to antagonize them any further.

She had one of her own to match now. Bellatrix had only gotten a few slices in, but her skin would scar in the shape of an M on her forearm. M for Mudblood. It was a badge she'd wear proudly. And with any luck, Bellatrix would have a few scars of her own on her face in the shape of a paw.

Hermione alternated between the healing spells she knew and the ones she remembered Blaise using on Draco. The mix seemed to be working. Draco was breathing steadily and Hermione felt a taut line of anxiety release in her. But no matter what she did, his arm remained the same. Dark bruises from blood pooling under the skin, and his hand felt deathly cold.

She held it for a little while, warming it with her own, remembering how she had sat at his bedside last year. Draco had been through so much, they both had. But they were still here. In the strangest way, it made her smile. Her brain was too tired to figure out the exact reason why, but she knew it was because of him.

She brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek. He was going to be okay. They were going to be okay. Together, and like they should have been all along.

She was doing her best to scourgify the blood off his coat when there was a knock on the door. Hermione turned, only then noticing how much her back ached from bending over for so long. She had no idea what time it was, but judging by how long ago the sun had set, she must have been in here for hours.

Long blonde hair and two luminescent eyes peered back at her from the open door. Luna Lovegood walked in, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Do you need some help?" Luna offered, crouching down next to her.

Hermione just stared at her for a moment. Luna had come up out of the cellar along with Mr. Ollivander, the goblin, Harry, Ron and Dobby. She had thought she was going crazy when she saw them all in the Malfoy's drawing room. What were they all doing there? She didn't have to be the brightest witch of her age to figure it out.

They had been prisoners. Locked up just a few floors beneath where Hermione had let Draco…

She bit her lip to stop the thought. It was still tender from Draco's assault on it, when he was inside her, fucking her so hard and fast that all she could do was cling onto him—

She hoped Luna didn't notice her blushing.

"I've pretty much done all I can. You don't have to…" Hermione had no idea what Luna had endured in the bowels of the Manor. If Draco had… but he wouldn't. Would he?

She looked down at his face, pale and grey. She knew the answer. Draco would have done anything, if it was for her. Once she had understood that, fully, it became the reason she had gone back to him. Had shown him what they could be like, together. So he would do what she had once thought impossible in order to stay with her.

She knew he would never let her go, so Hermione had given him something to hold onto.

Luna nodded and smiled. She still looked peaky, but otherwise fairly unharmed. She had a black eye, but that had been from the rough landing as Dobby's magic started to give out…

Hermione's heart gave another weak beat. Would Dobby have made it if she hadn't insisted on bringing Draco?

She wouldn't have left without him.

The months tucked away in Draco's bed had made her forget some of the horrors everyone else was facing daily in the war. Death was one of those. She had forgotten how quickly it could come. Like it did to Dobby. Like it did to Crookshanks. For a moment it felt as if the curse had hit her as well, splitting her chest in half.

Hermione started chewing on her lip again, the pain a strange comfort to her.

"I don't mind." Luna reached out and took Hermione's hand, turning it over and started wrapping her arm up again. Hermione started down at the M before it disappeared under the soft white bandages.

"Anything else?" Luna gazed at her, unblinking.

It might be hard, but there was something that Hermione needed. "I was hoping you could tell me what… Why…" She trailed off, unsure how to phrase her question where it didn't sound rude or intrusive.

"What I was doing in the cellar of Malfoy Manor?" Luna made it sound like she had been taking a stroll through Hagrid's garden and they were talking about the state of pumpkins.

Luna made herself comfortable on the floor next to Hermione. "I was brought there. My Father was printing some things that You-Know-Who didn't like. I think Draco Malfoy was supposed to use me as an example. I heard them talking about it. How good he was at the cruciatus curse."

A shiver passed down Hermione's spine.

"He hardly ever came down there and when he did, he just ignored me so I mostly talked to Garry. Griphook had only just arrived a couple days ago."

Hermione had the brief thought that these were imaginary friends Luna had dreamed up.

"Mr. Ollivander," Luna explained. "He let me call him Garry."

"Oh." So that must make the goblin Griphook.

"Sometimes Draco Malfoy… Sometimes he hurt him." Luna's voice softened. "But Garry said it wasn't that bad. Like a muscle cramp. Most times Draco Malfoy looked worse off than Garry by the end. He said it was worse when he first got there. Then… not so bad."

"Hawthorn backfires," Hermione whispered, remembering what Mr. Ollivander had been chanting as they helped him inside the cottage.

Her mind spun quickly, putting into motion wheels and mechanisms it hadn't used in a long time. The wand didn't backfire, Draco knew how to control his curses. He had made his wand absorb it. He had pulled the curse into himself and… from the sound of it, had only even done that when ordered to.

When he had to perform his duties as a Death Eater to make sure no one questioned his loyalty. To make sure he had a position in the new world.

So he could keep her safe.

Luna went on, as if the world wasn't turning upside down. "It was a bit chilly though. He sent warm food down, but not blankets. It could have been worse. He did say that. That he could make it worse. But he never did."

"I…" Hermione's mouth was barely working and her mind wouldn't stop spinning. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Luna shrugged, her long blonde hair moving with her shoulders. "Overall we were taken care of. What were you doing there?"

How was she supposed to explain how she came to be Draco's… whatever she had been. Still was. Would always be.

"Draco, he…" Hermione looked down at him and thought about everything he had done. All of it, the good and the bad. She smiled. "He took care of me too."

.

She slept fitfully, dreaming of long hallways and Draco screaming her name. She kept trying to reach him, but everytime Hermione flung open doors, she was only met with a puddle of blood on the floor. She woke up in a cold sweat and heard a soft knock on the door.

A response had come back from the Order. They wanted Draco alive and hopefully some answers from him. A small bed was moved in the already cramped room. They shoved it against the wall, a small table sitting next to it and a short chest of drawers a few feet away. There wasn't much room to move around and not enough for Hermione to sleep on the floor anymore so she followed Bill and Fleur back down the stairs.

They changed the locks on the door, making it fasten from the outside. Hermione couldn't help but remember all the times she had listened to Draco lock the door after he left, but if she could get through his goblin wrought iron lock without a wand, she knew she wouldn't have any trouble getting into this one.

Fleur offered to change his bandages so Hermione could have a break.

" 'Arry is looking for 'ou," Fleur told her and Hermione didn't have to go far to find him. The room he and Ron were staying in was right next to Draco's. Ron watched her as she walked out of Draco's and followed her in.

She sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. This was much more awkward than she thought it would be. Everything felt different now.

She had thought about reuniting with her friends more than anything else when she was locked inside Draco's bedroom, but now that she had, it was nothing like she expected.

Ron was barely looking at her, glaring darkly down at the floor in front of them, but Harry's eyes didn't leave her for a second. Hermione felt a little like she was under interrogation.

"What… what happened?"

For the first time in her life, Hermione had no idea how to answer a question.

She watched Harry's dark brows pull together, more out of worry than anything else. Glancing down at her bandaged arm Hermione asked, "When exactly are you refer—"

"When that asshole kidnapped you in the woods." Ron was glaring at her now instead of the floor. "That's what happened, wasn't it?"

She didn't want to answer him, not when he was acting like this already. But they deserved the truth. "Draco did take me—"

"That fucking—"

"Ron," Harry interrupted him, jerking his head in Hermione's direction. "You want to let her talk?"

Hermione threw him a grateful smile, or the closest she could come up with one. "He didn't hurt me though."

Was that the truth? All those weeks, enclosed in that room with him… Draco had done some terrible things. Some of the things he said to her…

Ron made a noise of disgust and Hermione did her best to ignore him. "Really, Harry, he didn't. He was a right prick most of the time, but that's just how he is."

She tried to keep her eyes on Harry's, but they wandered, taking in his messy hair, unshaven chin, and thin face. His eyes seemed darker behind his glasses, weighed down by heavy thoughts. Thoughts he didn't have answers to. Hermione knew the feeling.

"I don't…" Harry started and stopped. She could tell he was trying to temper his words. Oh goodness, what was coming? "I don't know what you two… are and I don't think I want to know any details." His gaze flickered down to her neck and Hermione watched Harry's cheeks pinken a little. The marks were no longer there, but they had seen.

Godric, everyone had seen…

"What can you tell me?" he settled on and Hermione was thankful he was giving her a choice in how she answered.

"Mostly he kept me locked away. Hidden." She did her best to curate the truth. "I wasn't… what you're thinking."

"Sure." Ron crossed his arms. They had gotten bigger, thicker in the past few months and there was something more rugged about him than before. "He was a complete gentleman then, was he?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, anger sparking inside her. "No. In fact, we fought the whole time. I tried to convince him to leave with me and when he wouldn't I tried to…" She stopped again. She had tried to try to escape. She might have actually done it. If she hadn't sat there and looked at the word 'Blood Traitor' written on that page and tried to figure out what Draco had meant by that.

"You weren't in the cellar with the rest of the prisoners," Ron said. "So where did he have the brightest witch of her age that she couldn't find her way out?"
Her skin felt hot under her clothes. It was more than she had worn in a long time and the jeans felt stifling around her legs, the neck of her shirt too high and pressing on her throat.

"Upstairs."

"You were in his bed."

Ron's eyes were a dark, flaming blue and Hermione had to look away from their intensity.

"While we were out there, risking our necks to get you back, you were snuggled up with your fucking Death Eater boyfriend—"

"Ron, that's not helping!" Harry said loudly.

Grabbing the arms of his chair, Ron pushed it back, almost knocking it over before stomping out the door and slamming it behind him.

Hermione stared after him. She knew it might be difficult for Ron to have to hear about her being with Draco, but didn't he seem to care about how hard it was for her to have gone through any of that! If he did, he wouldn't be acting like this.

Even so, she didn't want to leave it like this. Not again.

"Ron!" she called after him, about ready to chase him down and make him understand.

"Hermione, don't," Harry said, reaching out and touching her uninjured arm. He shook his head. "Let him cool off."

"But—"

"I know this might seem like a bad time," Harry paused for a moment and Hermione's attention narrowed in on him, "I need to know if there is anything you saw or heard that could help us. Who knows when Draco is going to wake up or what he will tell us when he does. You're our best source of information right now."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. She had tried, she really had, to get any more details on horcruxes, but her research using Draco's books had told her little else that she hadn't already gathered. As far as where any more might be hidden or movements of Death Eaters, she hadn't been privy to any of that information locked inside her cage.

"I don't know much, but I did see a list of crimes certain Death Eaters have committed. It might help us guess who will be sent out on certain missions or what they are capable of."

"Okay, good. What else?" Harry's eyes sparked like cut emeralds.

She opened her mouth. "That's… that's it."

"That's it? You… That's all?"

Hermione winced. "I wasn't exactly in a favorable position to get much information."

"Right." He rubbed his hand over his face

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Harry said, but she could hear this disappointment in his voice. "It's just, shit, Hermione. We could have really used… anything."

"Is it bad?" She was almost scared to ask, almost too nervous to know what had been happening while she had… been in Draco's bed. Just like Ron had so crudely pointed out.

"It's war." Harry sounded tired, older. As if he had aged years in months.

"I saw… I saw what you did at Borgin and Burkes. Did you find…" she trailed off, not wanting to say the word out loud.

Harry shook his head. "No, that was…" He ran his hand through his messy hair. "That was for you."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

Harry briefly explained where he had gone that night in the snow and how he had Ron had destroyed the locket. They had returned to the tent together only to find her missing.

"Hermione, you just disappeared. We searched the woods all night looking for you and stayed for three days hoping that… I had no idea if you had been snatched or killed or what. Ron was furious. He said it was my fault you were gone."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if remembering a bruise that had long since healed. "We looked everywhere for you. Even went back to London to your house. It's gone, Hermione. Someone burned it down."

A wave of cold shot down her arms. Her home… It wasn't the one she had grown up in, her parents had bought it in her second year, but still… it was a place where she had memories of all of them together. Memories they didn't even share with her anymore.

Harry patted her hand. "I'm sorry."

Hermione just shook her head a little, not able to talk around the painful lump in her throat. Her parents were still alive, still safe in Australia. Losing their home didn't mean she had lost them, yet… it felt like they were even farther away now.

Harry, who had always understood grief, continued. "Once I found out Malfoy had you, we started trying to plan on how to get you back."

"Remember how he used the vanishing cabinet? Well it was Ron's idea that maybe since Malfoy had bought it, he had the sister at his house. We went to Knockturn Alley and…"

Harry blew out a breath, making the fringe on his forehead lift for a moment.

"It was bad, Hermione. We opened the cabinet and they started coming through. Inferi. They were everywhere. And it must have signaled something because about two seconds later, Death Eaters started apparating in. Fiend fyre works against inferi, but there was so much of it from us and the Death Eaters and that musty old shop went up like a matchbox. We heard a few of them pinned down in the back of the shop and they were screaming. We tried to put out the flames, just so we could get out too and they came at us. Even as burned as they were, they came at us. I don't know how they were standing, walking. I don't…"

Hermione sat, too horrified to move. They had nearly died, trying to save her.

Harry continued, "Figured if we couldn't get you out, then we could at least get in. So, we got ourselves caught."

"You what?"

"We needed you," Harry went on, "Ron destroyed the locket, but after that… nothing. It was a dead end without you. We can keep fighting, but to win, Hermione, we need you." Harry gave her a small smile. "And we couldn't just leave you there."

Hermione was touched by this. Even though they had been insane to allow themselves to be caught and brought to Malfoy Manor, they had done it because they needed her. Because they wanted her. They were still her friends. Or at least, Harry was. She glanced at the door. She wasn't sure about Ron.

"I was safe." It was the only thing she could think to say.

"You were being tortured by Bellatrix when we found you. I'd hardly call that safe."

"That was…" Hermione sighed. So much had happened in the past two days. How could she explain all of that to him?

Well, she had to try.

"Draco did keep me safe. It was just when…" She bit her lip. "His father was hit him and I… ran out. That's when…" she looked down at her hands in her lap. Lucius Malfoy had put the chains on her and dragged her downstairs. When Bellatrix had seen her... Hermione scratched at the bandage on her arm. "She was hurting me because… because Draco…"

The events were barely memories and the loss of Crookshanks was still heavy on her. Hermione closed her eyes, but could still see him lying there. Too close, too far. His claws hadn't even had time to retract. Her throat felt tight with emotion, her eyes burning with tears she hadn't had time to shed yet.

She thought she was going to be next until Draco somehow, miraculously, stood up. For her.

"He tried to stop her, but he was hurt."

"I saw him give you his wand."

Hermione looked up at Harry who was staring curiously at her. Harry had heard Draco on the tower and now, he had seen Draco give up his wand to save her.

"Do you, uhm, love him?"

She could see Harry cringing as he asked the question.

Hermione decided to put him out of his misery by answering quickly. Plus, this was the first question she easily knew the answer to.

"Yes."

Harry blinked, and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"I know it sounds strange, and believe me, I didn't plan on this happening. Any of this. But… it did."

"Yeah, I know what that feels like." He sat back in his chair.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said before she forgot, "for coming for me. For trying to help. I don't know what we would have done if you two hadn't shown up right then."

"You would have done the same for me."

Hermione's lips pulled up a little. She would have and now, she had a chance to. She wasn't locked up in a room anymore and Hermione wasn't going to let her friends face this fight alone. Not when they had risked so much to—

"Harry…" Hermione asked as she quickly went through their conversation in her head, sorting it into categories and filing details away for later use. "How did you know I was with Draco?"

Harry stared at her blankly, as if this was something she should have known. "He told me."

The blood stilled in her veins. "What did you say?"

He leaned forward. "He told me when we fought."

"You… fought?" The last word came out as a whisper.

"He didn't… tell you?" Harry asked skeptically and Hermione shook her head with the little bit of control she had left over her body. "We ran into each other. Actually ran into each other. And he said he had you and that you were safe and then… he let me go."

All the oxygen had evaporated from the room. Hermione's vision seemed to sway even though she was sitting. None of this made sense. None of it. Why hadn't Draco said anything? Why…

"If he hadn't knocked out Nott I think they would have had us."

Cold realization ran down Hermione's spine, stiffening it.

"Your friend is safe and mine is…"

"Oh my God."

"I didn't understand why because he clearly set up that trap to—"

"Oh my God…"

She had felt the weight of Theo's death on her conscience, knowing Draco did it to protect her, but now it weighed heavier than ever. Draco had let Harry go, when he could have taken him in and ended the war and had everything that he wanted… Instead, he did what she had asked him.

And he had never even told her.

"Hermione?"

"I'm sorry." She stood up.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, back on alert and following her to his feet.

"I have to go."

"Wait—"

"I'm sorry." She stumbled, tripping over… something. She didn't know. She just knew she had to get to Draco. Now.

"Hermione—"

She was already three steps to the door when the thundering roars started.

"YOU CUT MY HAIR?!"

.

Ow.

Fucking ow!

Draco hissed in pain and anger, mostly anger, as he pushed himself up on the… were they really trying to pass off this as a bed?! It was probably stuffed with straw by the feel of it.

Draco had woken up to some blonde bitch prodding at him and things had not gotten better.

" 'Old still!" she grimaced, trying to push him back down and holding a rag that smelled… Fucking hell, what was that?

"Are you trying to poison me?"

"I am trying to 'elp 'ou!"

Draco swatted her hand away from his head and felt… felt… Nothing. His arm was covered in splotchy, dark bruises. He was controlling it, but he couldn't feel it. Not even the pain of the mark. It was all… gone.

He raised his other hand, his right hand, to his head and what he felt then was even worse.

A rough bandage wrapped around his head and then choppy, uneven…

He started shouting. Loudly.

She was shouting back.

In French.

Where the fuck was he?

And where was Granger?!

Frenchie was waving that nasty ass rag in his face again and Draco was just about to choke her with it when the door opened and there she was.

His girl.

Granger had burst through the door like the rising sun. Her tawny curls brushed back over her shoulders and her big, beautiful eyes landed right on him.

And his fucked up hair.

Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath.

Shit, it must be worse than he thought.

"I had to cut it to 'eal ze wound!" Frenchie was making excuses. Lying. His head was… It hurt like fuck, but he was fine. Because Granger was here and okay, so he was too.

Except he couldn't feel his arm. And he had dirty bandages crossing over his torso. And everything hurt. He felt nauseous and leaned over the side of the bed.

Frenchie jumped out of the way.

Draco really hoped he didn't hurl in front of Granger.

"Draco!" Granger surged forward and his heart beat a little faster.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Every pump made his head throb.

At least she had come and… Draco smirked. What a good girl she was, bringing his wand back to him.

He tried to reach for it, but Granger stuck it in her back pocket. She helped him sit back up and started checking his bandages. Draco looked over the room and saw Potter standing in the doorway.

So that's where she had been. With him.

"The fuck are you looking at, Scarhead?" Draco snapped, falling back on old habits when a new plan failed to form.

Potter crossed his arms over his chest and snorted. "Not much. I don't think you can call me that anymore, Malfoy. Looks like you have more scars than I do."

Draco seethed. His chest rose and fell heavily. He could feel his blood curdling under his skin as his rage poisoned him. He only had these scars because of Potter and Draco thought carving 'Thank You' in that fucker's chest was a fitting punishment.

"Draco, calm down," Granger spoke calmly. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Oh, I am going to hurt someone," he muttered.

Granger threw him a look and Draco rolled his eyes. Fuck, even that hurt. He leaned his head back against the bars of the headboard. They felt like the bars of the cage. The cage he had kept Granger in. And now she was out.

Was she about to do the same thing to him?

He wasn't chained down, but he was the only person in this room not armed. It didn't exactly make for a warm welcome.

"Are you going to pay me back in kind?"

Granger blinked. "What?"

"Am I your prisoner now?"

He could see the agitation burning right under her skin. The Gryffindor Princess was still so easy to read. But as he looked closer he saw she was… worried. Granger was nervous.

"No," she answered, but glanced back at Potter as if it was his call. Something dark and scaly stirred inside Draco. He didn't like that. He didn't like that at all.

"Granger." He needed her attention back on him.

She turned. And bit her lip. Better.

He saw her holding his hand. Saw it, because he couldn't feel it. His chest seized, the muscles pulling at the new skin. Granger was right, if he didn't calm down he would tear it. He had to breathe.

One.

Two.

Fucking onetwothree.

Draco glowered at Frenchie. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"I cut 'our 'air to 'eal 'our 'ead."

His head hurt too much to try and decode her words. His Mother had insisted he learn French as a child, but he wasn't exactly operating well enough to try and speak in another language. He was quickly running out of patience.

"THE FUCK," Draco shouted slowly, "DID YOU DO—"

"Draco," Granger sighed.

"TO MY ARM?"

Frenchie curled her lip. "Nothing," she said, accent getting stronger the more annoyed she was getting. "Your 'rm was cursed. There iz only so much that can be done."

Granger gasped. "Does it hurt?"

"No," Draco snapped. "It doesn't… anything!"

The truth of that slapped him in the face. He knew the after effects of the cruciatus curse well. He went numb sometimes, but the feeling always came back. Or at least, it had. Blaise had said there was damage done to it and he knew he went overboard that last time. Maybe Bellatrix finished it off for him. Burned the magic right out of his nerves.

He could still use his right, but his left was his dominant hand. His dueling arm. Without it…

Draco stopped breathing again. If he couldn't protect her, Granger might too. His eyes cut over to her.

She was talking to Frenchie, but he could hardly hear over the ringing in his ears.

"There must be something!"

She was smart, bloody brilliant. Granger must know—

"It will 'eal or…" Frenchie shrugged. "It won't."

"Well thanks for that great diagnosis. No wonder you Order lot are dropping like flies if this is your healer."

Granger grabbed Frenchie's arm, keeping her from aiming her wand at Draco's fucked up body.

Let her. He was a dead man anyways. Had been for a while.

Frenchie was muttering in her native tongue under her breath and the few words Draco could pick out were all ones his childhood tutors had certainly not taught him. She pushed past Potter who closed the door behind her.

Potter slightly raised his wand from his side.

Draco stiffened then sneered. "You got lucky before. You better curse to kill me this time."

Potter's brows lowered. "I don't have to. You-Know-Who will probably do it if you don't give me a reason to let you stay."

Cold seeped into his blood and made the fresh skin prickle painfully under his bandages. Granger placed her hand on his chest, warming him with her touch and moved in front of him.

"Draco, please, I know this is a lot all at once, but we're safe now. And… we'll figure out a way to heal your arm. And then…"

Draco glanced at Potter over her shoulder and then back at Granger. She sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully balancing there. Ready to jump up if needed. Ready to leave him.

"How do you feel?" she asked in a small voice.

"Like shit," he snarled and Granger cringed.

"I'm sorry, I… I did the best I could."

She had healed him? Draco felt like he'd just swallowed a stone. "It's not your fault." It was the best he could do right now.

Granger made a small noise and then threw her arms around his neck. He winced, but didn't tell her to stop. He didn't know where he was or how he got here, but at least he was with Granger.

For the first time since waking up to Frenchie chopping off his hair, Draco felt like he could breathe. And breathe he did. He filled his lungs with the sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent of Granger until he felt like he was drowning in her.

His heart beat fast against his ribs and Draco had the sick sensation that he had come close to never doing this again.

He tried to remember what had happened, but images jumped and jumbled in his head, swirling together in a hazy mess he couldn't find the start or finish to. Fuck, his head hurt.

He heard Granger give a small sniffle and Draco looped his arm around her. He couldn't feel it and that sent a swooping sensation of disappointment through him. "Hey, it's okay. Don't cry, Sweetheart."

He caught a glimpse of Potter wrinkling his nose before Granger pulled back. She smiled at him and it was enough to make the pain stop for a moment.

"I know, I know." She quickly wiped at her eyes. "I'm just so glad you're awake and…" Granger glanced down at his chest. "Healing." She looked back up at him, doe eyes big. "You were so brave, Draco. What you did for me… I… Thank you."

Draco searched his pounding head and found scattered images among the ruined walls of his mind. Bellatrix and Granger. Blood. Red. Pain and… screaming.

"Yeah well," He shifted on the bed slightly, not exactly wanting to bare his heart with Potter in here. "No one touches my girl."

Granger's eyes burned like cinnamon, bright and strong. The line of water in them reflected the pale sunlight from the window.

"You did it for me, you did all of it for me. To protect me. And you did. Draco you… you saved me."

He knew she wasn't just talking about what had happened in the drawing room. What the fuck were they doing in there anyway? Her rich eyes were shining with… love and, was that… pride?

If he wasn't sliced open, he'd grab her, throw her under him and fuck her long and slow while she looked up at him just like that.

And if Potter wasn't here. Fucking killjoy. This was his damn fault anyway. He's the one who cut Draco up in the first place, the one Granger had wanted to get back to all this time.

The one who started this damn war.

Although, that might be Draco's fault actually.

No. He'd rather blame Potter. That was easier.

"We have him—We have Potter!"

"You…" Draco narrowed his eyes and Potter lifted his wand a few inches. He leaned forward. Potter had… done something. He was why they were here, wherever the fuck here was.

Draco tried to get up and his head thrummed with pain. Hissing, he brought up a hand to his skull and felt his roughly shorn hair again.

His Father was standing over him. Granger was in chains. Weasley was using them to pull her away from him.

"Draco," Granger cooed and inched closer to him. "You're not strong enough to get up yet. Don't strain yourself."

Fuck her for being right. In his current condition, he'd be easy picking on the outside. He needed his arm back in working condition and… Draco glanced at Granger's waist. He needed his wand.

He also needed her. Granger was sitting there in jeans and a jacket, but she looked better than she had in months. He loved the fact that he could see almost everything through the lace dresses he gave her, but it was clothes like these—baggy, conservative, and boring—that he loved her best in.

He could imagine peeling off every layer until he got to her soft skin underneath and running his hands over every inch of her.

Damn, he needed to be able to feel.

Granger must have read something on his face, another thing he didn't like, because she flashed a flat smile and said, "Good. I'm glad that's settled."

Once his arm was working again he could throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of here, if need be.

"Where… where are we?" Draco asked under his breath.

"A safe house. Bill and Fleur Weasley's."

Weasley? Oh fuck that.

"The Order? We're with the Order?!"

Granger looked at him like it was obvious. "Where else would we be?"

"Fuck, Granger! Do you have any idea—"

"They don't want to hurt you! They just…" She looked at Potter again. "We—"

We. Draco didn't like that. She should only say that when she was talking about him and her. No one else.

"We won't let anything happen to you. And you can help us! You can…" Granger trailed off and Draco was sure it was due to the way his lip quivered as it started to pull up over his teeth.

Were these Gryffindors really that thick? Did they think that he would be so grateful that he would decide to be a good little boy? Did they have any fucking clue who he was? What being a Death Eater meant?

"You think I'm just going to join your merry band of idiots and we are all going to hold hands and skip off into the sunset?"

"It's not a band of—"

Potter stepped forward, crossing his arms. "The Order saved you. You owe us."

"The Order." Draco scoffed. "Without Dumbledore, the only order you have, is the one you'll die in. And you're at the top of his list."

Potter was unphased, as if death didn't matter to him. Further proof that the scar on his head had done permanent brain damage, just as Draco always assumed. Stupid fucking prick.

"Your name is on that list too. He's not happy with what you did."

Did… did this motherfucker know something?

Draco narrowed his eyes, peering into Potter's. Even in his weakened state, it was easy. Potter's head was as open as a Quidditch Pitch. Just as empty too. As if he was… waiting, expecting someone.

Red eyes flashed, cold and bloody. They were staring straight through Potter's and into Draco's, like they could see him lying there in the lumpy bed.

Draco jumped back so fast his head hit the bars behind it with a dull thud.

"What the—"

"Don't try that again," Potter said dangerously. His arms were at his sides now, wand raised into a defensive position. "You won't like what you find."

Draco's chest was tight, fear constricting around him and he fought for control over his breathing. He knew those eyes. The question was, what the FUCK were they doing in Potter's head?

"Harry, maybe… Maybe I should talk to Draco. Alone."

Potter placed his hand on Granger's shoulder. It was just a friendly gesture.

Draco hated it.

"Fine, but I need to know more about those lists as soon as you're able."

"Of course," she answered, nodding quickly.

Draco really hated that. He'd rather get crucio'd again than have to watch her take directions from someone else.

But when Potter glared at Draco before leaving, Draco couldn't meet his eyes. He kept seeing the red ones, no matter how many times he blinked. Slitted pupils as sharp as the daggers Bellatrix favored so much.

Another image flashed before him and Draco grabbed Granger's arm and pushed up the sleeve. It was wrapped with a small red stain on the bandage.

"You're hurt," he said as soon as the door closed.

"I'm okay." She tried to take her hand back, but Draco held fast to her wrist.

"Let me see."

Granger flinched. "Draco, stop. I'm… I'm still healing too."

He loosened his hold, but didn't move his hand from around her wrist. Thinking of Granger twisting and screaming under his aunt made him feel sick. He'd never forgive himself for letting her get hurt.

His girl. His fault.

"Are you okay?"

Granger took a shaky breath. "Yes. I'll have a scar, but I'll be fine. Thanks to you."

He barely even heard her after the word scar. The cold sick feeling in him solidified and turned into icy shards of fury. "That fucking bitch. I'll…" More images. Orange fur, green light. Draco's stomach turned inside him. "Crookshanks."

He'd gotten the cat killed. Godfuckingdamnit. Memories bled into his brain, slow and sluggish and interspaced with periods of deep black. But Granger… Granger was in them all. And a memory was all that their cat would be now. Another death he couldn't stop. Another life he was responsible for the loss of.

When he lifted his gaze from her arm to her face, Granger's eyes were filling with tears.

"Granger…" Draco slid his hand down and took hers, squeezing it tightly. "I'm so sorry."

She choked and only a sad little squeak came out.

It was his fault. He had brought them both there and he was supposed to protect them. But the first time they had been in danger, Draco had barely been able to do anything to stop it. Granger had been the one to knock Bellatrix back. Granger had been the one who got them out. He had only made everything worse.

"She'll never touch you again. No one will." He threaded the fingers into her hair. He wished he could feel her. Draco pulled her head down, pressing her forehead against his. Even though it hurt, it meant she was here and safe and his. "Granger, I'm sorry. I'll do better this time. I'll—"

"Will you?" she asked, big eyes full of hope. "You… you kidnapped me and caged me. You did all of these terrible things and you blamed them on loving me. You lied to me. Draco, you…" She bit her lip and Draco watched her teeth indent on the pink flesh. "You hurt me. More than anyone else ever has. Please," her rich eyes searched his. "Don't do it again."

She didn't even know everything. He'd told her some, the basics of what he had done, but not it all. Which was better? Keeping them from her to stop her from hurting or telling her and risk breaking both their hearts? He didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had. But he didn't think he could take much more pain either.

Draco gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he was staring down into the empty eyes of the skull branded on his arm. Without the constant ache of the mark, he could almost forget that he was a Death Eater.

Not that anyone else would.

The dark mark was all the Order would see on him. They wouldn't look into his eyes, try to find something good in him to hold onto. He knew what the Order would do to someone like him. And worst of all, he knew what they would do to Granger.

They'd say he was evil and turn her against him. She was already looking to Potter and following his orders. How long until she started believing everything they would tell her about him? And then they'd put her in the line of fire. They'd put her in danger and get her fucking killed.

They would take Granger from him, one way or another.

"I did those things to keep you safe. Not so you could run off and die in a war."

Draco had more than enough reasons to tell the Order to go fuck itself. The main one being that anyone who was a part of it were all going to die. He wasn't about to let Granger be one of them.

He didn't care about the war or the world, not really. Just her. It was why he had done all of those things in the first place! Without Granger, what was he except another one of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters?

"You can help us though! You can help us win so that we don't die. And then after…" She paused and he looked down to see her holding his numb hand again. "We can be together, Draco."

More fighting. More killing. They would burn out his right arm just as sure as being a Death Eater had burned out his left. And then they would condemn him for it. They'd damn him.

"How am I supposed to be with you once the Order has what they want from me? They will either kill me—"

"They won't!"

"Or torture and then kill me."

Hermione forced out a sharp breath. "The Order doesn't—"

Draco sat up a little, eyes turning hard as granite. "Yes, Granger, they do. Saint Potter might be able to get away dueling not to kill, but the rest of us aren't as lucky as that."

"But this isn't a duel!" she argued. "You don't know that they will try and hurt you. They might—"

"I know I'm the one with a head wound, but you do remember I'm a Death Eater, right?" He lifted his arm, bearing the mark to her.

Granger stared down at it unflinchingly. Stupid fucking Gryffindor, didn't even know to be scared when it was good for her. Or him. She was a smart girl, why couldn't she see that working with the Order was working against them?

Anyway, his fate was sealed. Her's didn't have to be. She could get out of this, get away. And they could have years together, until…

"There's only one way to stop being a Death Eater," he added darkly.

She lifted her cinnamon eyes back up to his. Oh shit. He knew that look. He hated that look.

"You're right. By choosing not to be one. You don't have to follow that path, if you want…"

Her. If he wanted her. What was he supposed to do, lie to her again? Tell her yes and hope that he could pull her away before either one of them got killed? Potter had been right about one thing, the Dark Lord would be furious that one of his Death Eater's had a link to Potter and hadn't handed it over. He would send people to look for him. Them.

And Draco had an idea of who.

He leaned forward, fighting the pain in his torso. "Can't we just leave? Get out of here? Just the two of us?"

Granger stood up. He hadn't even noticed she had dropped his hand. Merlin, he was so fucked up. He wouldn't last on his own. And he… needed her. As fucked up as this all was, it was still better than the months they had been seperated.

"You can," she said, voice shaking a little with emotion. "But I'm staying here. I promised Harry I wouldn't leave him and I won't." She swallowed hard and Draco braced himself for what was coming next. If Granger was nervous about it, he sure as hell should be. "If I really am yours, like you said then… you'll stay too. For me."

She had said she loved him, that she was his again. His whore. Granger knew what that meant to him. She had let him fuck her, let him hope, let him live again. And this was why. She had known, one day, it would come down to this choice. The clever little bitch had known just how to make sure he made the one she wanted.

He didn't even get to make the decision to be a Blood Traitor, she had made his heart make it for him.

If he didn't love her so fucking much, he would hate her.

"You know I changed my will?" Draco said, hardening his gaze. Granger's face fell in surprise. "Yeah, you get everything when I die. You get the Manor, the estate, the whole fucking mess. The vaults too. They aren't what they once were, but don't worry, I filled them up with enough blood money to keep you comfortable for a few lifetimes."

She was standing perfectly still, staring at him in disbelief.

"So just make sure the Order offs my parents before they kill me and you can use that to help your fucking war, Granger." His chest felt tight, the new skin growing under the bandages itched and burned. He was used to it though. He had been burning ever since Granger had clawed her way inside him. He wondered if he would remember how this felt when death took him in its cold clutches.

"Just one favor, Sweetheart," Draco sneered. "Burn my body when I'm dead. It's not like I'll be of any use to Order then and you clearly don't give a shit what happens to me as long as you win, right?"

A single tear slipped out of her eye and Draco watched it run down her cheek, a hot blush underneath it. Draco felt something in him twist and coil. It liked seeing her cry.

Because at least that was for him.

Granger raised her chin, defiant as ever. He was surprised that the tears in her eyes didn't turn to steam from the heat of her anger behind them.

"Yes, sir," she spat, then turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

Draco leaned his head back against the bars of the headboard. It wasn't just his arm that was numb now, but his entire body. The only thing he could feel was his heart, beating away in his chest. He kept it there, locked up in the cage of his ribs.

Like a fucking traitor should be.

.

The next two days passed in a similar fashion. Everyone seemed to ignore him except Granger when she delivered his meals and healing potions. They helped, and he could feel his scars reforming as his strength returned. He found out that he could stand up for short periods, but didn't bother going downstairs where everyone seemed to congregate. Draco had no desire to spend any amount of time with anyone else in this… shack. He still heard them though, thundering through the house and waking him up when he finally was able to ignore the pain enough to sleep.

He really didn't like it when he heard Granger's laugh mixed in with the rest of them. That's when he tried flexing his arm. He could use it, he just couldn't feel it. He could certainly feel the tension that hung between the two of them every time Granger was in the room. And just like his arm, that wasn't getting any better either.

She asked him how he was doing and helped him change the bandages. She even borrowed some old clothes from Bill so he could dress. Draco refused to wear them until she threatened to give him one of Ron's and Draco begrudgingly put on the… brown shirt. Thankfully he had his own trousers. The shirt was bad enough, he didn't want to think about having to borrow anything else. He purposefully refused to say thank you.

Draco wanted to ask her how she was doing, and talk to her about what had happened. He knew she must be missing the furball. He did. He missed her too. But when they did exchange words during her visits, Draco found it hard not to say something sarcastic and Granger would snap back at him and they ended up fighting until she left again. To go help the Order. To talk with her friends. To go back to the people she actually wanted to be with.

She wanted to be with him too. And she could be if he just fucking… No, if she would just open her eyes and see his side of things. As long as he was under the same roof as the Order, death would hang over his head.

He didn't want to die. But living without her wasn't really living. He'd already lost the use of his arm, he didn't want to lose her too. But the Order couldn't win. And she was so fucking stubborn. She wouldn't give up, not even in a bloody argument.

When she was yelling at him, Draco thought he felt a tremor in his arm, but it quickly died. Still, it shocked him enough that Granger was able to slip out before he got the last word in.

He flexed and tightened the muscles in his arm for as long as he could stand it, anything to try and spark some sort of feeling in it. It stayed numb and useless at his side.

Blaise had said there was nerve damage. But like he always had, Draco had ignored his friend's advice and just done whatever the fuck he wanted.

He wished Blaise was here. Or Crookshanks. Someone to… talk to.

He wished he had a bottle to drown himself in.

But Granger didn't like him drunk and Blaise didn't like him at all and the cat was fucking dead so Draco just laid there and stared at the ceiling.

And waited for her to come back.

She always did.

Then she would leave again.

It was probably his imagination, but it seemed each time took longer and longer.

He wondered how long until she sent someone else in her place.

He wondered if she would give up on him and let the Order take what they needed from him. If he wasn't willing to fight, they didn't need him in good condition. They could open him up, mind and body, and Draco wouldn't be able to do anything to stop them.

Granger was the only thing keeping him alive. And in the late hours of the night, he was honest enough with himself to admit that she had been this whole damn time.

So what was holding him back?

Nothing but his own foolish pride. What did he have to be proud of now anyway? He was a captured Death Eater with an arm that didn't work. If he tried to help and failed, where would that leave him? Where did he want to be?

Not here, stuck in this stupid Order safe house. Draco balled his hand into a fist. It should feel heavy and solid. It should be able to hurt. It didn't do any of those things.

So he threw it into the wall beside him. Again and again until the wood cracked and maybe his knuckles too. They were bleeding when he stopped. His pure blood was smeared across the dirty, brown wood. He couldn't do much but at least he could do that. He thought it would make him feel better to break something of theirs. But it didn't. The only thing that made him better was Granger.

And she was here, just downstairs, talking with her friends. And nothing short of an imperius would make her leave. He couldn't fathom why. This place was a shithole and the people inside it were even worse. The whole house could catch on fire and he wouldn't even piss on it to put it out.

He never asked for any of this. Not the mark, not the girl, or the war. He never even asked for the blood he had prized so dearly. Draco looked down at his hand, his arm, his mark. He hadn't made any of these choices himself. And now that he had to, Draco felt numb, stuck. As useless as his unfeeling arm.

Deep down he knew the answer.

It didn't matter where he was. As long as he was with her.

.

It was already late when Hermione knocked on the door, not that she expected Draco to answer, but because… well, it was what she was supposed to do. Waiting a few seconds she nudged it open, balancing the tray of food on her arm as best she could. The weight made the cut flare to life, but the murtlap essence in the bandage quickly soothed it again.

It was the price she had paid for freedom, but she didn't feel free. In fact, Hermione couldn't remember a time she had ever felt so burdened.

She had thought about everything she wanted to do once she got out of the Manor, but now that she was doing it all, the weight was unbearable. She had asked Harry for time for Draco to get acclimated, but hadn't thought to ask it for herself too. Being thrust back into the middle of the war was difficult, to put it lightly.

Every day there was more information, but little to do with it. So they planned and when those plans started to fall through, they made new plans. Whenever they were able, Hermione, Ron, and Harry snuck off to talk about horcruxes. Not that there was much improvement on that front since their nights in the tent.

Ron had been just as disappointed as Harry when she said she hadn't come up with any new leads while she had been gone. He spent most of his time talking with his brother Bill going over Order information and doing 'perimeter checks', which Hermione was sure was just his way of avoiding her.

In fact, the only time Hermione felt like she could really breathe was the moments she pulled away and brought Draco his food and healing potions. Even though they didn't talk much, she felt herself lingering longer and longer in his room. She knew she needed to get back to work, but… there was something here she needed too.

Draco didn't look over at her as she walked up to the bed. His moody disposition was starting to get predictable and Hermione knew better than to try and force him out of it. If he wanted to sit here and brood, fine. He'd done that for months in his own room, why should anything change now?

But she had to admit, he did look a little cute when he pouted. Even with his new haircut.

"I brought you some soup," she offered, sitting the tray on the small table and sitting on the edge of the bed. It was tiny compared to the one in his bedroom and she was surprised that he hadn't complained about it.

Maybe because she had made him sleep on the chaise for so long.

He took the potion off the tray and popped the stopper from it. Draco tilted his head back and swallowed it, settling the empty bottle back down and resumed his previous position.

"Are you hungry?" She stirred the soup around a little.

Draco stayed turned to the wall.

"Draco, you need to eat something. You need your strength."

"Why?" The one word cut through her. So it was going to be one of those conversations then. Lovely.

"Because you're hurt and you won't heal if—"

He snorted.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the back of his head. "If," she continued, "you don't want to eat, then I'll leave."

She reached for the tray and a strong hand clasped around her wrist, fingers pressing into the soft underside of it and she knew he could feel her pulse jump at his touch.

"Ask me nicely."

His head turned ever so slightly in her direction, grey eyes glinting mischievously.

Hermione tilted her head in aggravation. But if it got him to eat something… "Please Draco," she said sweetly, but rolled her eyes so he didn't think he'd won her over that easily.

Gingerly, he turned from the wall and pushed himself up to a sitting position a little easier than he had this morning when she brought him breakfast. He was still ashen, but the circles under his eyes had lightened to a soft blue. At least Draco was getting some rest.

He'd be up and about soon, and then, she'd have another problem on her hands. She added him to the bottom of her mental list. Pretty soon she was going to need a second head to figure all of this out. Hermione tried to hide her worry by busying herself with the tray again, settling it on his lap and straightening the napkin and spoon.

"Granger."

She turned his glass of water a few degrees and then turned it back.

"Granger." His forceful tone stopped her fussing and Hermione looked up at him.

He raised his brows just a little, dispelling the brooding gloom from his face. "Stay with me?"

Hermione bit her lip. That was the question, wasn't it?

"While I eat," he clarified and she eased slightly, just enough to allow herself to sit on the edge of the bed again. Odd, that she had spent so much of her time in bed with him, but now felt so awkward about it.

"Of course." She placed her hands in her lap and immediately started to pick at them, her old nervous habit coming back in full force.

Draco frowned and Hermione stopped, sitting on her hands to stop herself.

"Spoon, Draco."

His eyes shot up to hers and she blushed at the implication. "I mean your spoon is right there."

"Right." Reaching with his left hand, Draco paused and Hermione watched him frown. He placed it back down on the bed beside him and picked up the spoon with his right hand, wrinkling his nose. "This isn't silver."

"And somehow it still works," Hermione said with a tight voice. "Now eat."

He did. Maybe because he remembered yelling at her to eat all those times. Or… probably not. Draco was probably just hungry. He didn't exactly do things out of the kindness of his heart. Not unless he got something out of it too.

Hermione glanced up and saw him watching her. Oh. So that's what this was.

A trade. His good behavior for her company. Well if all she had to do was sit here, it wasn't so bad. At least he seemed to be enjoying the soup.

And Draco wasn't so terrible to be around when he wasn't making sarcastic comments under his breath.

Hermione looked at his hair. It was strange seeing him with it so short, but… not bad. She wanted to touch it, feel the trimmed strands against her fingers and pull his face close to hers. She missed him. Even though he was acting like a stuck up bastard, he was… different than everyone else.

She knew the war was the most important thing right now and that Harry and Ron should be working towards finding more horcruxes and Bill and Fleur should be organizing safe passage for Luna and Mr. Ollivander and that she should be doing everything she could to help them all, but… when she was with Draco, even when he was being a right ass, he still treated her like she was the most important thing in the world.

The only thing, really. It was nice, being… treated like she mattered and not just a cog in a machine. A machine she wasn't entirely sure where her place was.

"What's in this?" Draco's voice stirred her from her heavy thoughts.

Hermione looked down at the bowl. "I think… beans?" she said thoughtfully as Draco took another bite. "I'm not sure. Ron made it."

Oh no. Why did she say that?

Draco opened his mouth, letting the lumpy soup simply fall out of it and splash back into the bowl.

Hermione sighed as Draco purposefully set the not-silver spoon down.

"I've suddenly lost my appetite."

The lion in her chest growled in frustration. "It's just soup, Draco. It's not—"

Good Godric, he was going to make her pull her hair out!

"Fine!" Hermione grabbed the tray and sloshed some of the soup over the side of the bowl. "If you pass out from hunger at least I won't have to listen to you whine."

Draco's hand closed around her wrist as she turned to leave.

"Don't go."

She felt a pang shot through her heart. He always did this. Pushed and pulled. Made her so dizzy that she couldn't help but fall back into his arms. Hermione pulled her wrist out of his hand.

"Draco, I'm tired. It's been a long day and—"

His brows lowered over his eyes. "Where have you been sleeping?"

She sat the tray down on the bedside table, but remained standing. "Sort of whatever bed is free at the moment. There is always someone on watch so there is normally somewhere available for a few hours."

She could still feel the ache in her neck that had plagued her ever since she caught a few hours of rest curled up at the base of the stairs early this morning. A nightmare had woken her up. More dark halls, screaming, and pools of blood. No Draco though. She hadn't wanted to fall into another one, so she had forced herself up. There was always something that needed to be done.

Hermione had been exhausted all day and was hoping she'd be able to find somewhere more comfortable before it got too late. She really didn't want to curl up on the stairs a second night in a row.

Draco threw the covers back. "You're sleeping in here."

The bed was already small and that was before Draco's body took up most of it. When he wasn't sitting up his legs extended off of the bottom.

"There's not enough room. And besides, you're hurt. You need—"

"You're not sleeping anywhere but beside me."

Hermione ignored him. "I need to take this back to the kitchen and there's a radio program that—"

Draco grabbed her around her waist. Snaking his fingers into her belt loop and pulling her to the edge of the bed in one swift movement. How he did it with a hand he couldn't even feel, she wasn't sure, but her thoughts stopped as she looked down into his storm grey eyes.

"Get your ass in this bed."

A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of his deep voice. Exhaustion followed it, her bones already bending with the promise of a full night in a bed.

"I… I should check your bandages before…"

Draco glowered at her. "Now."

"Oh alright," she huffed and pulled Draco's wand from her back pocket. He eyed it closely as she vanished the tray of soup and then placed her hand over his. It took him a moment to realize she was touching him and Hermione's heart gave another painful thump. "I'm just going to take them off. You can let go."

Draco uncurled his fingers from her belt loop and slowly brought his hand back to lay on the bed. She wondered what it felt like, or more correctly, what it didn't feel like. She was thinking about it so much that her fingers fumbled with the button on her jeans too long for Draco's liking.

"Merlin, Granger, I know I kept you in dresses, but I didn't think you'd forget how to take off your pants."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as the button popped open. Just for that, she flicked all the lights out, darkening the room before pulling the jeans off of her legs. Draco's silver eyes shone in the darkness and she watched them travel down her body, trying to make out her form, as she quickly folded the jeans and set them on the dresser, placing Draco's wand on top.

She probably shouldn't, but she really was tired and… after days of non-stop discussions and working, she just wanted… Draco.

"I don't want to hurt you," she murmured as she carefully climbed into the bed, wedging herself between Draco's bandaged body and the wall and pulled the covers up over them both.

He mumbled something that sounded a bit like, "Worth it" as he moved into a position she knew well, one they had slept in many times before. His right arm under her head, where she could use his bicep like a pillow while his left slithered across her stomach, pulling her back to him and holding her tight.

Draco hissed as her back hit his chest and Hermione jumped, but he held her still, keeping her in place using muscle memory instead of feeling. She placed her arm on top of his. Even though he couldn't feel it, she still could.

They laid in the darkness, cramped in the bed, but surprisingly Draco didn't say a single negative word.

After several long moments, curiosity got the better of her and Hermione asked, "What… What does it feel like?" She traced her fingers over the lifted veins on the back of his hand.

"Nothing. But I know you're there. That's enough."

Hermione bit her lip. "It feels the same to me. Like it used to."

Draco's breath was cool on the back of her neck and she could smell the vaguest hint of mint.

He spread his hand over her lower stomach, touching skin where her shirt had ridden up. "Does it?"

She nodded and felt him shift a little behind her.

"Tell me what it feels like."

He pressed his hand into her and slid it down, fingers dipping into her knickers.

Her breath hitched in her throat and her body tightened. Draco could feel that and he let out a small groan and pressed his lips against the base of her neck.

"Tell me, pet."

He slid his hand in between her legs and Hermione's eyes fluttered in the darkness.

"Draco…"

"Feels good, doesn't it? Your little pussy missed me playing with it, didn't it?"

He wasn't as adept as he normally was, but he was also flying blind. It was still enough to make her lean her head back into him and curve her spine and open her legs a little wider so he could slide his hand fully against her.

Draco's other arm bent, closing around her chest and holding her back against him as his teeth traced the shell of her ear. "Tell me how it feels. Tell me where to go."

His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper and Hermione felt as if she was floating on his words.

"It's right…" She placed her hand on his, guiding a single finger to the sensitive bud of nerves. As soon as she started moving his finger around it, Draco jumped to attention, knowing instinctively where he was.

"Oh you dirty girl," his voice was soft, but loud in her ear. "You want your clit rubbed." He placed a soft kiss against her skin. "Such a little slut."

Here, alone with him, Hermione felt like she could finally let go. Her mind had been racing ever since… Oh God, for too long. It might have only been days ago that he last touched her, but she still felt starved of him. The faster his finger moved, the slower her brain went until it was just him. Draco. All over.

Hermione bit back a moan as his right hand dove into her shirt, pulling quickly at her bra and finding her nipple. He could feel it perfectly and she heard him give another small groan as it hardened under his fingers.

"More? Or less?" he asked, slowing his left hand down a little. Hermione pushed his hand lower, soaking his fingers in the wetness he had called forth and then back up to where she had shown him before.

"More, please more," she breathed out.

Draco closed his lips onto her neck, sucking lightly as he applied more pressure. Hermione gave a small moan and started rocking her hips against his hand. She held onto the arm curled across her chest, using it as leverage so she could move faster. For the first time since they landed outside Shell Cottage, Hermione felt… relaxed.

She wasn't being asked questions and expected to know the answers. She wasn't being pushed or pulled or prodded at or asked if she was okay or if she could take a look at this or if she felt like herself because she still looked a little shaken.

All she felt was Draco.

Hermione trembled as the bubbles started to fill her, creating the delicious pressure from Draco's fingers working over her.

Oh God, she needed him. She needed him and he needed her. She knew it just like any other fact. And the way his body tensed behind her was proof. Hermione held onto his hand tighter; she wasn't letting him go.

A low chuckle reverberated in her ear, causing her to whine. Draco pinched her nipple, sending sparks flying back into her chest. "I love how you turn into a whore for me. Barely two minutes in my bed and you're shoving my hand between your legs." He kissed her neck again, tongue darting out to flick against her before his teeth closed in on her skin, pressing down just enough to make her moan before he let go.

"Oh shit."

Draco's hand stopped moving.

Hermione froze, worried that maybe Draco's scars were hurting him. They had finally gotten them closed, properly, but maybe this was too much exertion for him. "What? What is it?" she asked quickly. Her arousal began to evaporate as anxiety started to replace it.

"Nothing," Draco murmured, twitching his fingers against her and then starting to circle again. His mouth fell back to her neck and he licked at the spot he had just bitten. "Put my fingers inside you. I want you to come on them."

Desire flooded through her again, erasing the doubt and worry as Draco massaged her breast in his right hand and pushed his nose against her cheek, breathing heavily into her ear. The smell of mint was overpowering and Hermione gulped it down.

Gently, she guided his hand a little lower down, positioning two of his fingers right at her entrance.

"There," she said breathlessly.

Hermione nearly choked on a moan as Draco delved into her. How he could do this without even actually feeling her was amazing. He seemed to be doing more on his own now and Hermione merely rocked her hips along with his movements.

She reached back and pulled his head closer to her. His short hair tickled her fingers, brushing against her skin softly. Hermione spread her hand over the side of his head, wanting more of him, all of him.

"Tell me what it feels like," he repeated, kneading her breast and squeezing it.

Hermione fought her pleasure drunk brain for words. "It feels so good," she managed.

Draco pushed his fingers in farther, a low growl in the back of his throat. "More. Tell me more."

Hermione whimpered as he hit a spot inside her, making her body jolt to life. "Oh God, yes, Draco! Do that again!"

"This?" Draco curled his fingers, causing the sensation again.

"Yes, yes, yes," she panted. "That. There. Please."

"Oh fuck," Draco growled and his left arm tensed. She could feel the muscles tighten and harden. "Fuck, shit… fuck."

Draco started to move his thumb against her, right against her. As if he could… Hermione opened her eyes. He tightened his hold on her, started pumping his fingers into her faster, harder.

"Draco…"

He groned in her ear and Hermione felt herself contract around his fingers, the feeling growing to a near explosive pressure.

"Oh fuck, Granger, yes!"

Hermione's mouth opened wide, although she was only managing short, gasping breaths. "Draco, can you…"

He lifted his right hand off her chest to grab her face and turn it back towards him, his mouth devouring hers as soon as their lips met. Draco controlled her head, turning her more so he could open his mouth, snaking his tongue into hers like she was a delicacy. Hermione moaned into him, a low quake starting in her as Draco lifted his wrist, angling his hand to push his fingers deeper into her.

"Yes, fuck, I can feel your pussy," he heaved out quickly. "Come for me. I want to feel you coming for me."

It was all too much. Draco could feel, and goodness… so could she. The bubbles rose up and popped. Hermione cried out as her orgasm shook through her body. Draco had the good sense to cover her mouth with his own, licking the pleasurable moans straight from her as he kept the same quick pace, never letting her trembling body stop him.

When she was just whimpering, a few aftershocks rolling through her otherwise limp body, Draco slowed. He used his thumb to gently pet her stimulated bud, making her tighten on his fingers with each touch.

"Fucking hell, that feels amazing," he said in a low voice. "Keep coming, Granger. Keep fucking coming for me."

She gave a weak cry and let the sparks inside her fire off a second time, rocking her body back against Draco's. He kissed and nipped at her neck, murmuring about how soft and warm she felt, how much he loved her pussy. How much he loved her.

Hermione sank into his arms as Draco slowly withdrew his fingers from her and ran them in between her folds, exploring her like it was the first time he had ever touched her.

"Fucking soft little pussy," he mumbled, sucking on her ear lobe as he traced his fingers light enough to cause her to shiver at his touch. "Mine. Fucking mine."

"Am I?" she breathed.

"Of course you are, Sweetheart," Draco purred.

Hermione had to fight her body for control as Draco traced his fingers over her again.

"Then prove it." She felt him hesitate. "To me and everyone. Show everyone that I belong to you. Fight for me. Fight for us."

Her and him. She was fighting for a future where they could be together how they should be. Like this. She knew Draco wanted it too and it was driving her crazy that she couldn't figure out why he wasn't willing to do this when he had done so many other things for her.

"It won't change anything," he said bitterly. "I'll still be a Death Eater."

Hermione turned towards him, her eyes having adjusted to the low light. The cut on his head was healing and his hair was already growing back, enhanced by the restorative potions. He was getting better. Draco wasn't a lost cause.

And Hermione wasn't losing him. Not to the Order, not to Voldemort, and not to himself. Draco had done terrible things, but he had done them for the people he loved. There was something in him, something good. He'd just never been given the option to use it.

She looked at him for a long time before she raised her hand and pressed it to his cheek. At first he flinched, then… waited, eyes wary as he searched her face for a sign that she would start arguing or leave.

Hermione did neither of those things.

She took a deep breath and said, "You're so much more than that, Draco. Let me know if you ever want to find out what that is."

He didn't say anything, just stared at her for a while and then laid back, staring up at the ceiling. Hermione followed him, nestling herself in the small space between him and the wall. She knew better than to push him or say anything else. Instead, she just laid there and listened to him breathe.

It was still the same even controlled pattern he always had. Then, it changed.

Draco emptied his chest of air. "Fuck."

.

A/N: If you're wondering at all about the passphrase for the chains, take a closer look at the first chapter of Daylight.