Her knock on Harry's office door was not a gentle rap of knuckles. It was an open handed slap. Ginny, at her side for backup, made a face. Hermione ignored it.

"Come back lat-"

She shoved the door open with a force that rattled the hinges. "Nope, save that for someone else."

He was sitting at his desk - littered with chocolate frog wrappers and scrolls and discarded ties - eyebrows raised. "What now?"

His office was in a similar state as Hermione's - but with more Quidditch paraphernalia. Reports and parchments scattered everywhere. Maps on walls with pins and threads, connecting places and crimes and leads. Fruitless leads.

She sat heavily in one of the visitors' chairs. Ginny gracefully took the other.

"Harry. James. Potter." He grimaced, looking guilty, hair stuck up every which way. "I cannot believe you didn't tell me."

Harry sighed, leaning back and dropping his quill. "I was going to . . . after we had him."

She inhaled through her mouth. So it was true. Counted to eight. Tried to ground herself before speaking, voice shaking. "I should never have overheard such a thing - a raid on the Carrows - from a couple of low-level aurors standing around the mobile tea service."

"I agree," he muttered. "I'll have a chat with my team."

"Yes, you'd better. Think of the potential for leaks. And - I was so surprised, I nearly knocked over the entire cart."

In truth she'd nearly fainted, head spinning, as she waited for her tea and listened to the brash young men guessing at who might be able to join Potter's expedition. This is what you get for leaving your office. The Ministry was going to arrest as many Death Eaters as they could and try to draw confessions from the worst of them. This was it.

The end.

"I just wish I'd been better prepared." She kept her tone as even as possible. It was . . . difficult. "I'm shocked that I wasn't the first to know."

"Respectfully, Hermione? I think you have a misperception about how you've been doing, these past several months." Harry rubbed his scar, elbows on his desk. Ginny nodded to the side - but which of them she was supporting Hermione couldn't begin to guess.

She gritted her teeth. "I've been doing my best."

He nodded solemnly. "Yes. I know. But so have I." Hermione looked aside at that, fiddling with a curl and examining some of the Wizards Most Wanted posters he'd hung, crooked, on his wall. "I've tried not to burden you excessively with the shite here. And asked Ginny not to share it in detail either. Stress would not have been good for you."

"I've had my magic back since Christmas. I'm doing much better, aren't I?"

"Whether you'll admit it or not - you are still fragile." Harry leaned forward. "Progress is not enough. Yes you're back at work. But you don't eat much, you never see any friends - Neville thinks you hate him, Padma asked what she did wrong - and you hide from everyone at the Ministry but us. We didn't want to be the reason you regressed. Nor -" he looked at her pointedly - "did we want to be the reason you were pushed back to Malfoy."

She swallowed. "Unfortunately you can't protect me from reality. We're dealing with Draco's monster, Azkaban guards defecting, nary a lead on Lucius. And now I hear secondhand of a full blown raid on the Carrows? Of course I'm stressed."

Harry shrugged. "I am sorry for that but I can't say I'd do anything differently. It feels like we're walking a tightrope. Trying to support you, not overwhelm you, stay in touch but not smother. All while working long hours and planning a wedding. It was not my intention to mislead you. Also," he said defensively, "I thought it was obvious that we'd disrupt the Carrows' summit. As you disrupted the New Year party."

Hermione pressed her temples. "It wasn't obvious to me. I feel completely caught off guard."

She cast a look at Ginny, who was blinking neutrally.

"Is Malfoy going to be arrested? Last I heard you didn't have sufficient evidence."

"We've intercepted a few owls among the Carrows and others. MacNair, Dolohov. We think Draco is orchestrating with Alonso. Planning the whole thing - and more to follow. Maybe we can get him to confess, which would streamline things."

She straightened her shoulders. Stay strong. "I just want him where he belongs. His father's cell is empty."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, and seemed to mean it. "Part of why I didn't tell you is that we're not sure about any of it. Draco might not even be there. I didn't want you to have disappointed hopes that we'd finally have him."

Here came the fight. "I'm going with you."

"You're not an auror," Harry said calmly. Too calmly. "This isn't like your escapades at Malfoy Manor."

"Don't you dare talk down to me."

He frowned, shuffling some papers on his desk. "Gin, care to help?" He looked at his fiancée.

Ginny spoke up at Hermione's side. "You haven't even heard her, Harry. Listen. Hermione needs to speak to Draco." This was why she'd brought her.

"Yes, your crazy theories about the monster. But that's low priority. We haven't heard a thing about it in months."

"They are not crazy theories." She felt herself heating, anger bubbling. "And I need to confirm them with Malfoy."

"The answer is no, Hermione. I'll be busy leading a raid. I can't watch over you at the same time."

"I don't need you to watch over me. Malfoy won't hurt me."

Harry removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "Even if that's true, someone else might. The place will be crawling with Death Eaters. And, if your intel from New Year is right, vampires."

"I'll go straight from you to him," she insisted, hands clutched in her lap.

"That sounds good in theory, but you know battles - which this could easily turn into - aren't like that. The Carrows are dangerous, Lucius might be there, we're going at night when people will be drunk - for about ten reasons I simply can't allow it. I'll need to focus and I can't if you're there, running around."

"I won't be running around. I'll be with - er, interrogating Malfoy." Eliciting confessions.

He threw his wand up. "Hermio-"

"Stop it, Harry." Ginny was mad too. "She needs this. Draco won't hurt her, and you know it. He didn't touch her on New Year." Hermione blushed. A little white lie. "We could get some useful information out of him, if Hermione has a chance to pry."

"It's not -"

"Harry, listen to me."

He looked at Ginny, eyes wide. A man who understood it was no longer about work and was finally listening with the appropriate deference.

"That thing that attacked us - it nearly killed me. It nearly killed Hermione. You're acting like you've forgotten." Her voice broke. "But I haven't. It haunts me still, in the night. Any time I turn to you, any time I seek the comfort of your arms - I've probably had a flash of it, what it did."

Harry frowned, eyes sad. Hermione could see the reflection in them - the reframing of his time with Gin. It looked like it hurt.

"You promised me," Ginny continued, "in that cave, that we'd do what we could to stop it hurting anyone else. You promised. Do you remember?"

He nodded slowly.

"Then you have to let Hermione do this. She knows more than any of us about it - she's dedicated herself to figuring it out, these past months. If she needs to talk to Draco, we believe her. And support her in it."

Harry rubbed his scar again. "Damn you both. I can't win against you."

Hermione reached between them and found Gin's fingers. They exchanged a little squeeze. She slid her other hand into her pocket and brushed Malfoy's twine with her thumb. "Thank you, Harry. Let me know where to be and when."

Harry would lead, of course. On the morning of the Equinox he gathered his team and Kingsley and Hermione together in one of the Ministry's most secluded meeting rooms. "To finalize the details." He'd laid a map of Yorkshire on the table in the center. The Carrows' property was outlined in red. The vast moors just to the south were unmarked. Redacted. She recalled Malfoy, snarky and tired the day he'd found them in his cave. We've - I've - gone to great lengths to keep our name off of these lands.

The information collected by Harry's Department indicated that Alonso and his sister were hosting a three-day gathering in a lavish tent village, deep inside the boundaries of their estate. Harry's raid was planned for the second night of what they were calling the "Carrows' Carnival" - when festivities were likely to be at their wildest. Hermione was to meet Harry and his aurors at the Ministry after hours. They would portkey to a nearby village and then broom in.

How they would leave was less clear - return portkeys or broom or apparition-in-jumps. It depended on how many Death Eaters were apprehended. Ideally, the aurors would portkey back to the Ministry and debrief. "You can skip that part," Harry assured her. "I'll be busy trying to get anyone we've arrested to flip on each other and admit to their plans." What would Malfoy say? It was hard to imagine him turning on his friends or offering information to the Ministry.

"Right, let's review our goals," Harry proclaimed to his team. Hermione could understand what Ginny saw in him when he was like this. Authoritative and confident. Her mind flashed back to him as a boy, directing Dumbledore's Army. She watched the faces of his young aurors. They stared at him, eyes bright and intent. He commanded the room. As much as she'd once hoped to see him educating students, she understood that in this way he was.

"If he's there, we want to apprehend Draco Malfoy, first and foremost." Harry nodded subtly in her direction. Of course. He'd promised Hermione he'd prioritize Malfoy for her. She hadn't had the words to beg him please don't. Please leave her hope a little longer. "Capture and neutralize any vampires, if their presence is more than a rumor. Then we're going to search each tent. If we find weaponry, contraband, unauthorized potions, you name it, arrest the occupants. They're going to spend some time in custody. Hopefully it'll dissuade the younger ones from taking this doomed uprising any farther. And of course we'll bring in the Carrows, if we encounter any illegal activity."

"Surely with this posh crowd we'll find at least one illicit root," said an eager and pink-cheeked young auror. She was leaning over the map, hair slicked into a shiny bun, hanging on Harry's every word.

Hermione couldn't help herself. "Look at you all, tamping dissent," she muttered.

"What's that?" Harry looked toward her, jaw tight. "I couldn't hear you."

Hermione met his eyes. She spoke loudly and clearly. "Tamping dissent. It works like a charm in the Muggle world. Quashing people on the edge of society always gets them to settle down and go away."

Harry bit his cheek. She'd properly riled him. "Your sarcasm has no place here. Do you have a better idea for how to deal with this threat?"

She sniffed. "They haven't really done anything, have they? I mean, Draco has. He hurt people with his monster and sprung his father out of prison. But the rest of them are - so far - all talk."

"You want us to wait, as we did last time? Did you learn nothing from Voldemort and Fourth Year? Who would you like to die before people pay attention?"

She felt all his team's eyes on her, watching this match like bludgers across the pitch. "I don't want to fight you, Harry. I just want to keep perspective. It seems the Death Eaters are a bunch of disaffected youths and disgruntled heirs with chips on their shoulders. Raiding them isn't going to instill a change of heart."

"Uh huh. Well maybe you can ask Malfoy what would change his heart - when you're chatting with him about that weapon you think he made."

"Maybe I will," she said, temper flaring.

Harry was incensed. "I'm a little confused," he said under his breath. "At this change of heart from you. What happened to punishing Draco? Making him pay? It's been a focus of yours for months."

"Malfoy's excluded," she conceded bitterly. "But listening to all this I've had a realization. I don't think arresting a bunch of young Death Eaters for some stupid root is going to endear them to the side of peace."

"You know what, you can ride with Merrick," Harry said. Merrick, looming in the back, lifted his head eagerly. "It's dangerous for the both of us to share a broom."

"Liable to push me off?"

"Hermione, you're excused. We'll meet back here at sunset. Until then." Harry looked at the door.

She held her head high as she stormed out. She had an outfit to put on.

Holed up in her office after Harry's meeting - no more conversations by the tea cart - she accomplished nothing but to draft and memorize a list of the questions she had for Malfoy. If he would even be there. Part of her doubted it. If he had a connection to Kennilson, and Kennilson worked at the Ministry, he was likely to know they were coming in advance. It was the talk of the halls.

Her list included specifics about the monster's origins. And, if she could summon the courage, whether he'd known the 'cure' when he unleashed it upon them. Had that been part of it? Ron and Pansy had found the 'treatment' in a book. But that didn't make sense to her, if Malfoy's creation was new. How deep did his deception go? How layered were his plans? She had suspicions, but wanted to see the answers in his eyes for herself. Wanted to see his eyes again. To confirm the precise shade of grey.

She pulled out her diary before she left.

Monday, March 20. Spring Equinox. Slept not at all. No appetite. Assisting tonight with Ministry raid at the Carrows' estate. Goals include arresting Death Eaters. Harry hopes to scare them, especially the young ones, and cut the head from the snake. If Malfoy is there - confirm theories about his creature before he's taken away.

It won't be much longer. This is going to get better. One day at a time.

She checked her watch - several hours to kill before she met the aurors. She left work early and hurried home, head bent. Thankfully, no one spoke to her. Her complete and rude resistance to conversation with colleagues had been quite effective. Now that March was nearly over, they'd all given up on anything more than the occasional "hello."

Back at her flat she struggled to shower and change. Her hands were shaking.

Hermione had channeled her nervous energy in the days ahead by focusing on what she would wear. How does one dress for such an occasion? She found herself imagining what Pansy might choose.

It required a quick jaunt out to the shops after work to purchase leather trousers. Hermione had never owned, nor donned, such an item before. Trying them on, back at her flat, she could understand the appeal. They hugged . . . well, everything. Her calves. Her thighs. Her arse, especially. She paired them with shiny boots and a fitted black shirt. Very fitted.

She spent long minutes in front of her mirror, braiding her hair. She'd be on a broom for some time - she didn't want to look as disheveled on the outside as she'd surely feel after that. But she tugged a few strands out to cover her ears. Applied red lipstick - an impulse purchase - and a sticking charm so she wouldn't smear it. Red felt appropriate. And it added some much-needed color to her face. Show him that you're fine.

She was satisfied when she met them at the Ministry and Merrick's eyes narrowed. So fucking hot, Malfoy had said. The way Merrick looked at her, she nearly believed it.

He stepped forward while the rest of the aurors gaped at the trousers. "Granger - you're with me." Merrick, whose shadow she'd come to recognize through the pebbled glass of her office door, strolling by more than he had any reason to.

Hermione frowned. "Don't call me that. It's Minister Granger to you."

"Of course," he conceded smoothly, smothering his smile. "Apologies for the disrespect."

Other witches would find him good looking, she supposed. She couldn't really see it.

When they were assembled - Kingsley was there to see them off, smiling and shaking hands and reminding everyone to be careful and let them cast the first hex - Harry surveyed the team. "Gather round and hold onto each other and your brooms. I've got the portkeys ready."

Hermione held Merrick's arm, careful not to touch his skin. She felt him watching her. Mercifully, the familiar stomach-churning momentum of magic travel had taken them before she had to acknowledge him.

Harry must have listened to some of her tips about training, because she had to admit she was impressed with the organization. When they had all arrived and were standing on the edge of Carrow territory, his team was silent, mostly still, patiently waiting.

There was a bit of a holdup while Harry and some others reviewed the map again. She supposed there was always going to be a last-minute kerfuffle. But then Merrick was at her side, boarding his broom, and offering his hand. She took his wrist instead and slung herself up behind him. She lightly held his shoulders, maintaining a very professional distance between his backside and her front.

It was not at all the way she would have held Malfoy, were it he on the broom in front of her. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining it. Her legs, squeezing his hips. Her arms, tight around his waist. "Let me breathe, Granger," he'd say, gripping her thigh. Perhaps if he flew low to the ground she would risk a hand to his -

"Hermione. Are you ready?" Harry, interrupting. She opened her eyes, slightly flushed with nerves. He was flying already, hovering beside them on his own broom. Anxious to lead.

"Yes."

"When the rest of us land, wait to see how it unfolds. If all is well you can find Malfoy's tent. Merrick will make sure you get there unscathed. If Draco's not in it you'll have to give up this little side mission. I'll not have you traipsing around, risking a run-in with a vampire -"

"Understood, Harry." He'd be in his tent. She willed it.

She tapped Merrick's shoulder. "I'm ready."

The Carrow lands were larger than she'd thought, judging from their size on the map. She supposed it was a testament to the scope of Malfoy's estate. It took them nearly an hour to reach the carnival, flying in silent formation. She cast a series of warming charms over herself and Merrick.

Harry was just ahead and to their left. She quelled her fears - about being in the air and what they were about to do - by repeatedly checking her watch. His dial wavered over Work. Ginny and Ron were both with Family. Picturing them them safe and waiting for word helped her relax.

Finally - when Hermione was thoroughly regretting that she'd left her robes behind - they would have ruined the effect of the trousers - they spotted the lights of the Carrows' encampment through the trees.

There was certainly a gathering. Dozens of tents of varying sizes and colors and a massive bonfire at the center. Merrick circled with her - too high, she was nauseous with the anxiety and the chill - while the first wave of aurors descended. They landed amidst a crowd of revelers.

Harry, small beside the fire, was immediately flanked by his team. Many of the Death Eaters gathered around them while others milled about on the edges, moving among each other's tents. She saw several swaying heavily, drinks in their hands. Harry was talking to someone - the leader - large and ugly. Alonso Carrow. Was he surprised to see them? He certainly seemed to be, judging from his wild gesticulations. He pointed up and away, in the direction from whence they'd come.

Harry and Alonso talked long enough that Hermione started to wonder whether they'd got it all wrong. Ron's words repeated - "I think they just want to have their stupid parties." How mortifying, if he was right.

"Merrick, get closer," she said sharply, pushing at his back. "I want to hear."

"Not yet. Potter's orders."

As if on cue, sparks flew from somewhere off to the side. A tent behind Harry exploded. Ah. So - not just drinking and fucking then.

Suddenly things were happening - people were running, screaming. Tents were burning. Harry's aurors fanned out in pre-planned pairs, casting spells and chasing down attendees.

"Go down!"

Merrick's broom dropped a few meters but he would not land them, no matter how hard she jostled his shoulder. Harry. Malfoy. She had to get to them.

But he had got low enough that she heard Alonso shouting. "They are here," he ranted. "The Ministry has attacked! We have done nothing wrong. We are defending ourselves. Do not back down!" Then, glancing about to see if anyone was watching, he flicked his wand at a nearby tent. It burst into flames, the magical fire flaring and swelling with terrible strength. Alonso looked over his shoulder. And set another tent alight. "Look at what Harry Potter has done!" he screamed.

Harry was weaving through the crowds efficiently, collecting Death Eaters. Actually, no. He was moving them. Pulling the drunkest away from the fires, out of their burning tents. Several had collapsed. Aurors with healing magic kneeled over them, providing aid. Members of his team never left his side. Harry was fine. Protected, surrounded.

She had to find Malfoy.

"Merrick!"

Another tent began to burn.

"Right, yes. Tell me when you see it." He flew her just above the flags at the tops.

It took two passes, given the dark and the distractions below. And the smoke. There were a few mini battles waging. The vampires were there, and she saw at least one auror grabbed and bitten. Hermione nearly screamed but he had a partner there who stopped it, who tackled the undead monster, who shouted for help and received it promptly. Her racing heart was for naught. Harry had this under control.

Then she spotted Malfoy's crest. Black and green, serpents and winged dragons. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. It was a reminder of whom she was dealing with.

"There." She pointed to it. Merrick stopped them with a jolt - she had to hold tight to him lest she fall. As soon as the tips of her toes touched the ground she was off the broom, moving toward the tent.

"I'll keep watch out here," he called. "Be careful."

She sealed the flap behind her with a firm wave of her wand.

Of course it was massive inside - barely recognizable as a temporary structure. Malfoy had spared no expense on the expansion charms.

And it must have been warded for quiet because the shouts and screams and spells faded away immediately.

Hermione turned in a slow circle, taking it in. Dark, just a few candles here and there, burning low. He'd been hosting. Every available surface was littered with discarded casks and empty glasses and plates with the remnants of a shared meal. The furniture was turned this way and that, as if shoved about by partygoers. They had upturned one of his chairs. Where were his elves?

"Malfoy?"

No one answered.

Let him be in here. Gods, please.

Hermione wandered for a few minutes, anxious at the wasted time, poking her head into a series of side halls and rooms - guest rooms and bathing chambers and a kitchen.

The tent was silent. None of the beds appeared to have been slept in.

Was he outside? She was crossing back across the living room to get to the exit when she tripped over a wine bottle. It scattered loudly across the floor, sloshing everywhere. She watched it slide under a curtain she hadn't noticed, leaving a trail of red.

Hermione ducked her head through, just to confirm, before she hurried out into the chaos to search.

It was a bedroom - the largest. There was a chaise. A wardrobe. A mirror. And of course, a luxurious bed.

The master suite.

And its master with his back to her - framed in a window - gazing out at the fires and the aurors and Death Eaters rushing to and fro. His sleeves were rolled up to show off his forearms. There was a tumbler of fire whisky in his hand. He tinkled the ice and sipped it, as her heart stopped.

"Hello, Granger." He didn't turn around.

He had been growing his hair out. It feathered haphazardly. She longed to see it between her fingers again. To make him shiver and hear his purr.

She approached him slowly. "How have you been?"

"I'm well, except for this minor setback. How are you?"

"Never better."

He turned and met her eyes. "Little liar. Too bad I won't be able to send a Howler to Potter or his fiancée for their dereliction."

She jutted her chin. "I'm taking care of myself now."

"Doing a shit job of it. You look like you haven't slept or eaten enough in weeks."

"Months actually," she snapped. "Since before Christmas. I've been doing my best. And working a lot."

He smiled that smile she hated. Mean. "So I hear."

"From an informant?"

"Yes."

"Kennilson?" A bit of a shot in the dark.

He tapped his glass with his wand for a refill and lifted it in her direction. Cheers. "Took you long enough. That precious Ministry of yours has as many leaks as Azkaban. You might want to do something about it."

She extended her hand for his drink. He seemed surprised but gave it over. Hermione tossed it back in one confident motion while Malfoy appraised her. His eyes lingered on her cleavage before they landed on her lips.

She ruined the effect by coughing.

"Smooth."

Hermione dabbed her mouth with the back of a hand. "Always."

He leaned away, taking in the leather trousers. About time. He twirled his finger in the air and she rotated - obedient - to let him see.

She waited for his eyes to flash - but he scowled. "Making this as hard as you can, eh? Showing off my favorite parts? Arriving on another wizard's broom?"

"Merrick is just my escort. Harry selected him from among the aurors."

"Merry-ick, is it?" He made it sound like a disease. "How fucking adorable - and with Potter's blessing, too. He sure didn't look like just your escort while he watched you walk in here. He was as interested in your arse as I am." His jaw flexed viciously. "How is he at making you come?"

"Spying on me?"

"I have surveillance wards on this tent at every corner. Trust that I didn't choose to see you wrapped around him."

"I - I wasn't." She supposed she had clung a little closer as they landed. Serves Malfoy right. He deserved to speculate at what she'd been doing, and with whom, these past months.

"It's to be expected. I wish you every happiness together." Malfoy never begs for anything. "In advance of you flying off into the sunset - why are you here?" He was eyeing her trousers again.

The million galleon question. "I wanted to see you before you were arrested. I have a few questions and some things to say."

"We don't have much time. My tent is a prime target for Alonso's friendly fire. If you don't want to burn to death you better get started." His lip curled, showing off the edges of his teeth.

She stared at him for a moment, refreshing herself on the details. Their time apart had apparently blunted any tenderness he had for her - she sensed his desire, but none of his concern. He looked thinner than he had two and a half months ago. Worn down and older. Only his eyes were exactly the same - crinkled with irritation.

Her silence turned his tone venomous. "Granger. I thought we'd hashed it all at New Year. This feels suspiciously like a redux of that farce. I hope there's a point to your presence. Out with it."

They hadn't hashed a fucking thing, actually. What she'd truly meant to say - I love you - he'd disregarded. Cut her open in the process.

Move along so you can send him off to where he belongs. "This won't be like last time. How did you do it?"

"Make my monster?"

She nodded.

He glanced back at the window. There was a burst of spells just outside and a muffled yell. "Finally - you figured it out. I've been waiting. Thought you might show up at the Manor and torture it out of me."

"I would be embarrassed that I didn't realize it immediately last fall, but you had most of the sources I needed. When I got those it didn't take long. Just a quick read through your notes." A lie. "I have to admit they were . . . very thorough."

"Hmm." Malfoy casually took his tumbler back, careful not to touch her fingers. It filled again with wordless magic. "I should have burned those."

"Yes."

"I expect they'll be exhibit one against me." He finished his drink.

"Discuss it with your solicitor."

He chuckled. "He'll love that."

"I do have to know," she said, stepping a little closer. "You had a lot of theories - but never reported which was the one that worked. I'd be thankful if you told me."

He tilted his head. "Driving you mad, is it? Not to know? What a sight - Hermione Granger all in black, thrilling at old blood magic."

Blood. So perhaps -

He sighed dramatically. "The answer will be a disappointment. I couldn't recreate it if I wanted to. I've tried. I still don't quite understand it myself. I thought maybe you could figure it out."

"Oh." She trembled - at his tone, and power, and mystery. "It required your blood?"

He grinned. "Lots of it."

"That sounds painful."

"Very."

Oh Draco. She was split in two, staring at his handsome mask of indifference and disheveled hair. How was it possible to feel both hurt and adoration so strongly? They mixed up within her in a frightening and toxic - intoxicating - combination.

In an effort to distinguish her predominant emotion for him, she risked a few more questions. "Was the whole thing planned? Did you lure us in? Did you know it would be me and Harry, investigating it?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Respectively, yes, no, and I suppose I knew it was a possibility given your Ministry positions."

"Were you aware of the 'treatment' when you unleashed it?"

He shook his head. "No. I didn't know that."

She compared and contrasted his face before her with what she remembered from the cave, from her flat, from her bed. All the softness, the traces of humor - were gone. You worked so hard to build something with him. You built a castle of cards. She still had so many questions.

"I won't tell you anything more." Malfoy sounded hollow. "It doesn't matter. Assume the worst and you'll be right."

"Just - one last thing. How could you?" It was punctuated with another flurry of activity, people running past his tent. She was perversely grateful. If they were still shooting jinxes at each other Harry would be too busy to come and interrupt.

"This was always me."

"I don't believe you." Hermione said it deep, from the wound.

"I can't control what you believ-"

She let him hear her agony. "If only you'd told me - maybe I could have helped you."

He turned to the window again, clutching his glass, his other hand on his hip. His forearms and features glowed in the low light. "Release yourself of the guilt, Granger. You were in no condition for that. And your help would have been too late. You can go. I'll turn myself in without a fuss. But only to Saint Potter directly."

"No," she insisted stubbornly. "I'm to take you." She was racking up the lies.

His mouth was a thin line as he stared out. "Then we'll have to have a fuss."

It was impossible to believe this was the same person who had held her just months ago. He gave no sign of recognition of their relationship, or having known her. Of having slept with her. Of having kissed her and explored her body and -

"I can hear you thinking."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking," she snapped. "But in the interest of transparency, I'm thinking I'm disgusted with myself for ever believing any part of your absolute shit." And for letting herself pine for him for months.

He smiled meanly. "That's not what you were thinking. But - don't feel bad about it. I'm very convincing."

"Just as I was during our last . . . treatment." Her heart hurt, so she forced her own sloppy grin.

Malfoy's smile vanished. "Aren't we a set of cynics. If I hadn't seen the evidence myself I wouldn't have believed you were a virgin." She resisted the urge to flinch. "The past few months I keep coming back to the irony of it all. Your blood on my cock was the only genuine part of the entire encounter."

It hung in the air between them. She felt sick.

"Would you have fucked me differently?" she asked. "If you didn't have to hide the truth? If I didn't?"

"Very." He looked like he was having dirty thoughts.

Her desire thrummed. Memories, traitors that they were, flipped through her conscience. His hands on her body. Her hips against the pillows. His tongue in her shower, water flowing over them.

She wanted him to show her the difference. Wanted him.

He knew. "Wet from my evil machinations, are you?"

Her red cheeks were his answer. Hermione's ability to resist the inevitable had come to an end. Her skin felt turned out with him this close. She was dizzy. He threw his drink aside with a clatter and leaned over her. The promise of contact strained her breath. You should be afraid.

Malfoy seemed to be waiting for something. For Harry to come or for the tent to burst into flames? For aurors to stream in, wands drawn? Yet she sensed he didn't care about any of that.

She tilted her face up. "I can't believe I haven't seen you in months," she whispered. It was hard for her to say it. Harder even than when she'd worked up the courage to ask him to stay at her flat. "Looking at you now, it's incredible that I survived it."

Malfoy swallowed. His eyes moved over her too rapidly, like he was reading her, like he couldn't decide what to do. "You cannot talk to me that way."

"Stop me."

His lips hovered a hairsbreadth from hers. "Is that some kind of invitation?" What was he waiting for? "This is the second time you've shown up looking unspeakably delicious. I squandered that green dress. Tempt me once, shame on me. Tempt me twice -" He trailed off, smirking at his little joke.

"Despite your accusations and jealousy - I didn't wear this outfit for anyone else."

That had done it. He was good and riled. His face was a mess of anger and frustration and desire and arrogance. He was trying to fight it. Trying to be strong.

Break him. "We don't have much time." She said it deep and sultry.

He was snarling. "That's too bad. I would have liked to fuck you when you didn't have to pretend. When you could hate me openly. I've dreamed of taking you, just once - just for me."

For him. "Draco. Quit - wasting - time."

He moved.

It was unlike anything she could have ever imagined.

Malfoy, unleashed.

He kissed her, rough and hard, forcing her open. Gods to feel his mouth again. It wasn't even pleasant. It was bursting above the surface for air, tepid water on dry lips, hot coals in a winter storm. The minimum. The tension within her was slaked and heightened all at once and her body ached to receive him.

More. He invaded and tasted and made her his own. His hands were everywhere - around her back and gripping the leather. He was selfish, assertive, kissing her how he wanted.

He tore away only to get her shirt off. By the time she leaned forward, capturing his lips again, he'd ripped open her trousers.

Hermione felt almost silly for wearing clothes at all. Under his hands they were, at best, the illusion of protection.

Somehow he maneuvered her to the bed - low, wide - and shoved her down onto it.

"Is this what you came for?" he gasped, collapsing on his knees, yanking her boots off. Hermione wanted to kiss him some more but he was moving too much. She tried to hold onto his neck but he ducked his head to get off her trousers. They were each frantic, reaching for the parts they most wanted and missing each other. She managed to grip his hair in a fist and yanked his head so that she could taste beneath his ear.

"Is the cruelty the point?" He had her knickers between his hands. Muttered Diffindo and vanished the scraps of them so that she was bare. Draco gripped her hips, her waist, her breasts - but not, for once, for her pleasure. This was all for him. "Or is this a pity fuck before I'm hauled away?"

She struggled to control her expression as he watched for her reaction. The truth was that she wanted to have sex with him again. She didn't want her first time to be her only. It was as simple as that. He laughed. "So, the latter. Lucky for you, I'm weak. And willing to manipulate your sympathy to make myself a memory."

"Regardless of all the rest, I regret that I wasn't more candid with you." She emphasized the words with tugs at his shirt, getting it up his arms and over his head.

He stared at her black brassiere while he removed his own trousers. She got tangled with him, trying to help. "Go on, Granger," he said. "Clear your conscience. No sense both of us suffering."

She had so much to say there was no good place to start. "For the record, I thought you were - think you are - very attractive." She tried to grasp his face but he contorted out of reach.

"Uh huh." He tore her bra off before he collected her wrists in one of his hands and pulled them up, over her head. Pinned them hard enough to bruise as he slipped his other hand over her front. He squeezed her tits, pinching her nipples, tugging them for the perfect combination of pleasure and pain.

"I do," she twisted against his hold, dying to touch. "I - I've greatly admired your body."

He ignored her, smelling and licking her chest.

"I miss the pleasure you gave me. I've managed, a few times, by myself. But it's not the same. You were better at it." Something about her stiff words felt wrong - but it was the best she could muster under the circumstances. You should have been more prepared for this eventuality.

Malfoy looked up from kissing her collarbones, confused. "Wait. Is that it? You wanted to voice some awkward compliments?"

"You said you didn't believe me. In your library."

His eyes went wide. "And you think this is the time?"

"I should have given you more. But now -" her voice cracked - "you've made sure I won't be able to."

He made a face - incredulous and trying not to laugh. "I thought maybe your confessions might be more along the lines of feelings. But in that too, my expectations were misplaced."

"I feel a lot." She sounded inane. "I'm as good at expressing it, unfortunately, as I am at initiating physical contact."

She turned her head to the side into her own arm - so that he couldn't see she might start to cry. Malfoy took it as a hint and leaned over to suck her neck where his mark belonged.

"You always made me feel so good -"

"Stop it," he growled. Bit her harshly. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to hear another fucking word."

"You said I could clear my consci-"

"Granger, if you care about me as you claim you do, you'll be quiet and let me have you one last time." Think about that tomorrow. The hundreds of times he'd made her come with nothing for himself flashed in her mind. So she did as he wanted. She spread her legs.

Malfoy readjusted her wrists, stretching her longer. "I'm going to watch those tits bounce," he said hatefully. "Don't you dare try to cover them. Or any part. I want to remember every detail when I'm rotting in Azkaban. I want this," he brushed her cunt, "to be my last taste of freedom."

She closed her eyes to stop the tears.

"Look at me." He said it through clenched teeth. Pure rage.

She didn't, so he grabbed her chin as he aligned himself between her thighs. "Granger. Show me how much you hate me. Don't hide it. It's good - let me see."

She tried, she did. She really did. She was angry, without question. Angry that he had lied, angry that he had led them here, angry that she probably only had a few more minutes before Harry came for the arrest.

But.

She didn't hate him. And he'd said - Azkaban. Hermione could picture him there in vivid detail. She'd seen him trapped in a tiny room for a month, pacing and agitated. Yet the cave had been paradise compared to what prison would be. He'd soon be confined, wandless, in the dark.

Alone.

She choked on a sob. No. She held it in. Her fingers above her head twitched. He let go of her wrists and instead held both her hands in one of his. Their fingers entwined.

Malfoy took a moment, before he entered her, and stared down at her body. He explored it with his free hand - cupping her throat, lightly, stroking over her breasts and across each of her ribs. His fingertips ghosted her belly before he pressed onto the soft place above her cunt.

Looked at her, checking.

She nodded. "I want it more than anything."

Mouth in a grim line, he pushed inside.

Hermione nearly stifled her cry - but remembered he liked her noises. So she let it out, let him hear what he did to her. He was the best thing she'd ever felt in her life. She was filled with not just the comfort, the pleasure - but the relief of it. They were together. Draco was touching her. This moment would last forever. It had to. She could not bear for it to end. The pressure of his cock, the slide of their skin together, the way her body felt complete.

This was the last time. She was sure. He might get out of Azkaban one day - but she would have moved on by then. Right? She would . . . find someone. Find happiness? You must try.

But it would never be like this. Never. She knew it in her bones. Malfoy gave her something she could never have nor recreate with anyone else.

She didn't even notice that her tears had won - she was too focused on his movement, on the snap of his hips, on the pressure of his hands on her fingers and stomach.

But Malfoy noticed. His expression went from angry to livid.

"Don't you fucking cry. Don't you dare weep for me."

I am weeping for myself, she wanted to say. I'm weeping at the loss of you before you're even gone.

But that only made her cry harder. To try to distract herself she forced him to release her arms. "Give me back my hands." He did, propping himself up on either side of her head. She wanted to touch him in a way he'd never let her. She wanted to caress him the way he'd done to her.

But he rebuffed it. "No," he said, when her fingers sweetly skimmed his face. "I know what you're doing. Don't turn this . . . into that." He spat it - like any gentleness needed to be crushed, to be buried. Like he was vile and unworthy.

This is fucking, she told herself. That's all this is. Physical release.

Her tears kept flowing. Malfoy was pounding powerfully into her. "Stop it," he ordered. He looked almost pained with the frustration. "Now you've made me want to fuck you - just once - when you don't cry."

Find a distraction. Don't ruin this for him.

He couldn't stop both her hands and her mouth. So she talked.

His chest filled her vision, smooth and wide and strong. The words came more naturally with his cock buried inside. It cut away her inhibitions. "I should have told you I'd never seen anything more beautiful than these scars the night you kissed me."

"You kissed me," he argued darkly, moving steadily.

"I should have told you there was nothing I liked better than you coming through my door."

He kept up his pace, eyes on hers. "Nothing better?"

"Nothing, Draco. Your presence was as much a gift as your hands." He was suspicious. Disbelieving. "I should have told you I spent months counting down the hours until I got to be with you again."

He slammed into her so hard her jaw snapped shut. Good try Malfoy. It won't work.

"I should have forced you to let me touch you more," she insisted. "All of you. I wanted to play with you as you played with me."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Slid his hand between her legs, massaging her clit in time to the rhythm of his cock. Trying to distract her.

"I should have gotten on my knees for you," she confessed. "Maybe it would have changed things."

"I never would have let you do that." He gripped her braid, moving her head so they could stare at each other. Grey eyes flickered with something unknowable.

"Harder," she ordered.

He smiled and pressed into her as deep as he could. She rose up, capturing his kiss and wrapping her arms round his shoulders. She sucked at his lips. "I hope you think of me when these are sore." And bit him, hard. Bruising. Punishing.

As he punished her, with his cock and his hands. He was pulling on her hair - no, forcing her against him. Bending his head, shoving her mouth to his neck while he fucked her. "Make it dark."

His other hand was still between her legs, pressing down on all the right places.

Hermione came, intense, and moaned loudly into his shoulder.

But Draco had just been beginning. He rode her like an escape, like he wanted to put the last of himself inside her and leave with nothing else. He finally pushed her away from ravaging his neck so he could make her tits bounce. Hermione watched him watch them.

"Come for me again," he finally said. He could surely sense she was close - brought to it from the intensity of their connection and his thumbs on her nipples.

"Do what you want," she encouraged.

What he wanted was a change in position. Pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her, he turned them over so he was under her. Hermione laid on his chest and moved her hips, desperate to learn this new angle. It felt so good, using his cock. She pressed her face against his cheek, smelling him, tasting the salt of his skin with her tongue. Draco. He was in her and around her and she did not want it to end.

She reveled in the friction, their bodies pressed so tightly together it was unclear where one ended and the other began. He was holding her so fiercely, moving erratically. As if he was going to -

"No," she said. "Not yet. Please not yet."

He groaned, his nose against her temple. "I'm trying."

"I lov-"

"You're being mean." He pulled her back, looked in her eyes. "Please, Hermione." He kissed her quiet. "Don't ever say that to me again." Don't you ever fucking touch me. It had the same effect on her. "Leave me my dignity."

He reached over her arse and down between her legs, brushed where he knew -

The pressure of her orgasm sent him over the edge.

"Gods," he grunted. "I'm sorry." She felt his cock jump inside her, felt her muscles grip him and bring him along. He shook violently in her arms. She in his.

It went on and on.

She wanted it to last. Wished it could. Hermione clung to Draco as it faded. Not yet. Not yet.

Not yet.

His sweat on her skin was a balm - and a torment.

When they were both still, the shudders dissipated, she remembered. He betrayed you. He hurt people. He is Lucius's son.

She released him abruptly, shoving herself away. "Get off of me."

"Of course," he agreed quietly. "I have an appointment with Potter."

He stood smoothly, withdrawn, turning away from her quickly and reaching for his clothes. Watching him dress she realized she still hadn't seen his face when he came. He'd kept it hidden against her. Now you will never know.

Hermione moved more slowly. Malfoy was already working on her trousers, using his wand to Reparo the buttons he'd torn off. He laughed. "That's probably the last spell I'll ever cast."

He turned and looked at her then, face impassive. She pulled her shirt over her head and accepted her trousers from his hand. "Not ever. Just ten or twenty years."

His eyes widened. "Sure. What's ten or twenty years?"

"Exactly what you deserve." She said it lightly, almost cheerfully, tying her boots.

He matched her tone. "Spot on. Nice to hear you say it. Let's just hope I stay there."

She stopped in front of the mirror to rebraid her frightful hair.

He was waiting for her at the curtain. As she stepped past he handed her his wand. "A souvenir."

She tried to take it from him but he held it for a moment, their fingers an inch apart. His eyes crinkled. "Granger? As far as endings go, this was a good one."

"You're welcome for the memory," she agreed. Bright. Perky. Heartbroken. "I hope the crying didn't muck it up."

"Nah. I'll take that bit as a compliment." He smiled sadly.

They didn't need to speak after that. Malfoy followed her to the front of the tent. Their steps were heavy and slow.

She slipped his wand into her pocket. She should have given it to Harry, but she wanted to keep it. Hermione had nothing else of his. And, sick as it was, she needed something.

She muttered a counter charm to open the entry flap and Malfoy lifted it for her. Harry was standing outside. He took them both in for a moment. Hermione nodded once. He's ready for you.

"Merrick will show you where we've got some of the vampires rounded up. I'd appreciate your help with them."

"Will do."

She would give Malfoy this - no fuss.

He looked on while she and Harry stepped around each other.

"Thanks for your cooperation, Draco," Harry said.

"Potter. I've a few things to tell you before we go."

Harry closed the tent and she heard nothing more.