Hi everyone, how are you? 😊 I'm so sorry, it took me longer than I thought to bring this chapter! 😱 I've had a pretty chaotic week. And I had no way to get time to review the chapter... But I hope you like it a lot 😊

As always, thank you all so much for your kind words 😍. The end is getting closer, and it seems almost unbelievable... Thank you so much to everyone who is reading this, for your support for this story in one way or another. For your comments, favourites, follows... for everything! thank you! 😘

And, without further ado, let's see how Draco's doing as a prisoner of the Order...

CHAPTER 49

Battle of the Schools

Part One

Hermione scrunched up her face as she tried to move as gingerly as possible. She needed to shift her position to keep her lower back pain at bay, but she didn't want to make the mattress squeak or wobble too much. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, taking up as little space as possible, a position that was already uncomfortable. She had managed to rest her back against the hard iron headboard, but it hadn't been particularly comfortable either. However, her comfort was not something she was worried about at the moment. There were no worries as she listened to him breathe.

Draco was fast asleep. Lying on his left side, facing the wall. He was curled in on himself, wrapped in the old grey quilt that all the rooms in Grimmauld Place possessed. In that position, his right arm, still held in a firm sling, didn't bother him. Since Hermione had been there, he hadn't moved. He hadn't changed his position. Of course, he must have been exhausted.

Hermione had sat on the bed behind him. It hadn't crossed her mind to wake him. Let him sleep as long as he could. He didn't know the girl was there. It was almost six in the evening, and Hermione had been in charge of the prisoner's mid-afternoon watch for two hours now.

The rest of the Order was in the kitchen, minutes away from the start of an important meeting. A meeting that Remus had called, tentatively for that morning, to teach all the members how to perform the Patronus Charm correctly. A meeting that, given the circumstances, and despite what had happened, was still considered a priority due to the presence of the Dementors on the enemy side. Simply because of all that had happened that night in Godric's Hollow, it was postponed until the afternoon.

Hermione managed to convince her comrades that she didn't need it, thanks to her silvery otter, and was able to absent herself from the meeting. Furthermore, she offered to look after their imprisoned Black Sergeant for the duration of the meeting, so that no one else who did need it would miss it. Sacrificing her valuable time looking after a Death Eater. They agreed, and in Elphias Doge's place, Hermione took over the prisoner's watch. And Doge moved to the night shift.

Harry and Ron had also skipped the meeting, for the same reasons as their friend. In their case, they had spent the morning dealing with Azkaban-related matters, and in the afternoon they had gone to Godric's Hollow to help out. So they didn't find out that she had volunteered to be Draco Malfoy's guard, and she was spared hearing their protests.

Against all odds, Hermione had managed to have several hours ahead of her, justified, in Draco's company. Hopefully without being interrupted. It was by no means the safest situation to talk to him in, but it was the best they could get in that place. She hadn't seen him since that morning, since the young man had arrived dying at Grimmauld Place with the first rays of sunlight.

That day had been chaotic. Hermione left Draco's room at six in the morning, leaving him in the company of Mad-Eye and Remus, to be questioned urgently. Everyone believed that, given his rank as a Black Sergeant, the young Death Eater would have important information about the Dark Lord's ranks. Whether it was about the attack in Godric's Hollow, the escape from Azkaban, the members of the Dark Lord's ranks, upcoming missions, prisoners...

Hermione knew the Order's interrogation procedures. There hadn't been many, given that they had rarely managed to capture anyone alive from the opposing side. In fact, the last interrogations she remembered were those of Higgs and Vaisey. And they talked about as much as they could of their own free will. Hardly about anything, really. Voldemort kept his secrets very well, and was careful not to reveal them to mere Knights of Walpurgis. As well as the presence of countless Fidelius Charms to protect information.

But the procedure as such was known to all. First, simple questions and answers. They gave the prisoners the opportunity to answer on their own initiative. Second, if that didn't work, Legilimency. Unfortunately, though, they didn't have too many Legilimens in the Order. They used to rely on Westemberg, who was quite adept at it, a member of the rescue squad that Hermione led. Sadly, however, he had been killed in their raid on the Ryddle House. Another Legilimens who had sometimes helped them was Severus Snape, but he was not someone they could count on very often. He was rarely able to leave Hogwarts. And besides, they couldn't risk anyone on Voldemort's side recognising him. Or his role as a double spy would be at risk. A third step, if the prisoner was a skilled Occlumens, as indeed Draco was, was the illegal use of Veritaserum.

Veritaserum that Hermione had managed to make mysteriously disappear from all of Grimmauld Place with a simple Summoning Charm. They couldn't give Draco the truth serum. No way. Not while they were in a secret relationship. Things could get very, very complicated for both of them.

Apparently, the first interrogation was entirely unsuccessful. Mad-Eye came down to the kitchen an hour and a half later, vociferating that he would gladly torture that 'smug little shit' himself as soon as the Cruciatus Curse didn't make an attempt on his life, worsening his still-present injuries. A resigned and weary Remus communicated that they would go straight to 'step three', to the truth serum, while they tried to contact Severus Snape safely.

When they discovered that there was not a drop of Veritaserum left in the headquarters, they concluded, fortunately, that it was because the supplies had run out without them realising it, given the little use they had for it. Terry Boot was instructed to prepare a good dose as soon as possible. And a still-exalted Mad-Eye turned the boy into a chinchilla in a fit of rage when the boy told him that it took a whole lunar cycle to prepare. The man apologised three times for it.

Luckily for Draco, they didn't have too much time to waste on him. There was too much to do. And they seemed to conclude that they would have time to interrogate him again in the next few days. Hermione knew that, having got nothing from the boy, they would concentrate their efforts on Yaxley and Selwyn for the rest of the day. Two simple Knights of Walpurgis, but ones they might be able to get something out of. And they were not wrong.

The Order, on the other hand, had spent all day working on the wreckage in Godric's Hollow, and they were far from finished. They had begun to rebuild parts of the village, continued to identify and move bodies, and continued to treat all manner of wounded in the shelters. Ministry workers could hardly believe what had happened, nor could they cope with all the losses, both human and material, that a single night of terror had taken.

Added to all this was the mass escape from Azkaban, which they were still investigating. They were trying to find a way to track down the rescued prisoners. The Order of the Phoenix forces were, conveniently, divided.

Hermione had spent all morning, and noon, in Godric's Hollow. Helping with as many tasks as possible. And taking the opportunity, as she had promised Draco, to try and find out something about Nott. To no avail. There was no sign of the boy.

Molly continued to treat Draco's wounds once Mad-Eye and Remus had finished their first interrogation. She then washed him with the help of Dedalus Diggle, and it was Diggle who kept an eye on him throughout the morning.

Hermione managed to ask Dedalus about Draco's health without being suspicious. Pretending to want to know what to expect on her watch. But the man wasn't aware of, or interested in, the details of his injuries. He did tell her that the boy had slept through the morning. He had woken up with a start twice, unable to breathe. Once he had vomited. Molly had examined him again but had found no physical cause. It was all psychological. He was still filled with anxiety from the attack that night. No one was surprised, really. Just because he was the enemy didn't exclude the fact that the battle had left after-effects. Mental and physical. War was war. And no one, on either side, could find it bearable. A third time, the boy had woken up and reluctantly asked to go to the bathroom. They had brought him food, but he had refused to eat.

Hermione had blocked the door with a helpful Locking Spell. Pretending it was a measure to stop him from escaping. However, the reality was that she didn't want anyone to come in. Because she wanted to hug him. And talk to him. But she had found him still asleep, so she had contented herself with sitting next to him. She also made a quick Muffliato Charm, just in case.

She heard the boy emit a muffled snore. And saw his shoulder jerk slightly. She looked at him, leaning over a little to try to see his face. Sunken as he was into the pillow, she barely made it. But she did see one of his eyelids. And how his eye twitched frantically underneath it. Hadn't they given him a Potion for Dreamless Sleep?

Hermione ran a hand over his face. Slowly caressing his features. She too had nightmares for days after the mission at the Riddle House. Draco's breathing became more ragged. More rapid. His brow was now furrowed. Hermione reached over him a little further to run her fingers over his eyebrows, stroking them, relaxing his brow. His head spasmed a little, and then she heard him breathe more sonorously. Waking up. She pulled her hand away from his face, waiting for him to notice her presence. Not wanting to startle him with her touch. She saw him blink, staring at the wall. Fighting lethargy, trying to guess where he was. His breathing was still ragged from whatever it was he was dreaming.

She saw him realise he wasn't alone. Draco turned his face first, over his shoulder, trying to see who was next to him. With slight alarm. Unsuccessfully, he rolled over on himself, trying to get on his back. Looking for her. Finding her leaning over him. Hermione watched as it took him several seconds to recognise her, even looking into her eyes. Still dazed. But he eventually did, and his face, his guard still lowered from drowsiness, relaxed. Not bothering to ask any questions. Not caring about anything else around him. As if having found her in reality was enough.

The girl smiled at him and tangled her fingers in his hair in a gentle caress.

"Hi..." she whispered to him as well.

Draco sighed through his nose subtly. Without saying a word. He rolled over even further, pulling his left arm out from under the covers, and wrapped it around her back. Forcibly pulling her to his chest. Causing her to lose her balance in her precarious position and fall on top of him. Snuggled into his chest, held by his arm. Hermione laughed softly and tried to support some of her weight on her elbows. She was worried about hurting him, lying as she was on his injured arm, though he didn't utter the slightest sound of pain. On the contrary, he pulled her tightly against him. Hermione gave in for a few moments, closing her eyes, her cheek pressed against the T-shirt he'd been given, her forehead brushing against his throat. Letting herself be enveloped by the warmth he gave off. The smell of his skin, and his breathing still sleepy. His arm squeezing her back. He was alive...

She still wasn't sure what his injuries were, and she was worried about hurting him in this awkward position, so she decided to pull away. She rubbed her face against his T-shirt in a playful snuggle and kissed his chest over the cotton fabric. Leaning on her own hands afterwards to pull herself up.

Draco followed, struggling to sit upright, leaning only on one hand. Hermione made an attempt to pull his back to help him, but it wasn't necessary, and he managed to sit up on his own. She did place the pillow better on his back.

"What are you doing here?" Draco questioned then, opening his mouth for the first time, as she sat back down, now facing him. His blond hair was clean again, and the dried blood on his body was gone. He was wearing a short-sleeved red T-shirt, which Hermione recognised as Fred's property, but she didn't mention it to him. The bruise on his forehead was now barely a faint purple circle, no longer needing gauze to cover it. He'd also got some colour back.

"Being your guard for the next few hours," she confessed, with a knowing smile. He arched a fleeting eyebrow with lazy slyness. As if he admired that she had managed to do such a thing. "How are you?" she questioned, her eyes wandering over his right arm, still held in place by the firm sling.

It took Draco a moment to answer. And he didn't look at her when he did. He finished settling back on the pillow, glancing around.

"Everything under control... What time is it?" he asked in turn, looking at the window. But it was carefully boarded up and covered with curtains. No sunlight was coming in.

"Six o'clock," Hermione revealed. Draco returned his gaze to her.

"Six… in the morning?" he asked, frowning. She smiled.

"In the afternoon."

Draco raised his furrowed eyebrows. He looked incredulous.

"Did I sleep all day?" he mumbled as if that couldn't be possible. She nodded, playing it down.

"Well, since nine or so, I guess. Since they finished interrogating you, and the treatments... The potions must have helped..." she told him, wanting to wipe the guilt off his face. Draco snorted discreetly through his nose. Arching his eyebrows again, fleetingly now.

"I haven't taken any potions..."

Hermione didn't flinch.

"Draco, you've been given potions," she said, not really knowing. Not believing otherwise. He just looked at her sideways, coldly. Making her hesitate. "Didn't you?" she mumbled then, at his silence, in an almost dangerous tone.

"Granger, I'm the enemy," he reminded her, sardonically. "And I'm not cooperating. They're not going to make it easy for me. They don't care whether I sleep well or not, or whether something hurts me or not."

"Oh, for heaven's sake... Didn't they give you anything? Not even for the pain? That's impossible..." protested the girl, offended. Beginning to look flustered.

"I'm not going to take anything they give me," he then replied, leaning back better on the pillow. Defensively. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Relaxing her tense shoulders.

"So they offered you once you woke up but you refused to take anything," she corrected, in an annoyed hiss. He bit his cheek on the inside of his mouth, not answering. Trying to maintain his proud posture. Hermione exhaled heavily, steeling her patience. They would have given him potions while he was unconscious, but he wouldn't have wanted to take any more of them voluntarily once he was awake. "You're incorrigible. I'll get you something. You trust me, don't you?" she scoffed, leaning on the bed to get up. Draco clicked his tongue and reached out to grab her wrist. Stopping her from leaving.

"Depends on the day," he grunted through his teeth in answer to her question. But then he added, more seriously, "They may examine me afterwards and detect whatever it is you give me. They will be suspicious if I agree to take anything you have given me."

"I can be very persuasive," Hermione defended herself, smugly. The corner of Draco's mouth twitched.

"I'd like to refute that, but I can't," he muttered, reluctantly. Hermione pursed her lips into an amused smile, but Draco tugged her hand to sit her back down. "Forget it, really. I don't need anything."

Hermione sighed and slowly agreed to sit back down. Still hesitantly. She was sure some of his wounds still hurt, but she hadn't seen him wince. Molly had indeed turned out to be a more than competent Healer. Draco didn't let go of her wrist once he managed to keep her by his side. Hermione, noticing this, turned her hand, maintaining his grip, but wanting to caress his as well. The young man's bare forearm turned upwards. The Dark Mark was visible, branded in black on his skin. The girl's face did not alter. She stretched out her thumb a little, reaching to the edge, to the head of the snake. Stroking it gently. Draco followed her gesture with his eyes. Not pulling his hand away.

"Is that why you haven't eaten anything either, because you think they want to poison you?" Hermione guessed, looking at him with her head cocked to one side, acrimoniously. Draco didn't look embarrassed.

"Partly."

Hermione shook her head in resignation. Her thumb caressed his wrist.

"Can I get you something to eat?" It was a question, but Draco knew she'd do it with or without his permission. "That's not suspicious. They won't be surprised if you change your mind…"

But Draco was shaking his head. Almost imperceptibly. His gaze was lost at the other end of the room.

"If I'm honest, I'm not the least bit hungry," he confessed, in a dry whisper. He closed his eyes and arched his eyebrows as if he didn't believe his own words. "I am, but I couldn't eat a bite..."

Hermione looked at him. She could sense the tension in his shoulders. And she could feel the strength with which his fingers were gripping her wrist. Possibly without his awareness.

He locked his eyes on hers then, catching her by surprise. To simply stare at her for long seconds. The girl couldn't help but stretch the corners of her mouth, somewhat embarrassed at his attentive scrutiny. Asking him the reason for his silence.

"How long have you not slept?" Draco asked, still staring at her. Hermione looked down. Still smiling.

"I look terrible, don't I?"

"One of the worst things I've ever seen."

Hermione pretended to be offended and slapped his wrist playfully.

"You idiot. I slept for an hour after lunch," she confessed. With a resigned sigh. She stroked his wrist again with her thumb. "I've been in Godric's Hollow all day. There's so much to do there. What you all did was... atrocious," she added as if she couldn't contain herself. Eyes fixed on the quilt.

Draco snorted through his nose feebly. As if he thought that was funny.

"You don't have to tell me. I was there," he hissed, coldly. He snorted again, louder. "It was utterly... frustrating. We had no objective. No orders, except to tear everything apart. We've never acted like this before."

"Didn't they tell you what you did it for?" Hermione wanted to know, looking at him carefully. Draco was confessing just what the Order had wanted to get out of him in the interrogation. And he was telling her without even asking.

"No. Nothing at all. We just had to... kill everyone," he laughed through his nose, without humour. "It sounds... surreal."

Silence fell. Draco looked up at her then, out of inertia, when he didn't hear her speak. Hermione Granger being silent never meant anything good. And he found her staring at him. Earnestly. As if sizing him up. And Draco felt heat on his neck. Was she...? Was she furious about what had happened? About what he'd done there? Shit, of course she was... But she hadn't let go of his hand yet. And that allowed him to keep breathing. Waiting for her to say something.

"Draco, there was a motive," The girl did indeed break the silence. Cautiously. Mincing her words. "I thought you knew, but you didn't want to confess it to the Order during the interrogation..."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he listened to her speak. It took him a while to make sense of her words. His face tilted a little more, towards her, involuntarily. Looking at her suspiciously.

"Motive? What motive?" he interrupted her, in a low voice. "They didn't give us any reason. I don't know why we did it. Do you?"

Hermione frowned slightly. Without realising it. Uneasy.

"Yes, I know," she sputtered, with ill-contained impatience. "And I'm surprised you —"

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" he interrupted again, with open irritation. Arching both eyebrows. Hermione's shoulders relaxed. She sighed. An exhausted sigh. She squeezed his wrist tighter. Apologising.

"No, of course not. I'm just surprised. You're a Black Sergeant, you're close enough to the Dark Lord. I thought they would have told you," she justified herself, her voice serene. She stroked his wrist with her thumb again. "Look, I've... tied up a few loose ends. I remembered, among other things, what you told me about Samantha." A fine wrinkle appeared between Draco's eyebrows, but he didn't interrupt her. "And I realised that the Dark Lord has had a special interest in schools for some time now. Beauxbatons, at least. And I assumed Durmstrang as well. He wants to take over the schools, and turn them into the same thing Hogwarts became. I told the Order of my suspicions this morning. We have... some spies close to your ranks," she confessed, cautiously. Draco didn't move a muscle. "And the interrogations of Yaxley and Selwyn confirmed it as well. Specifically, Selwyn knew. He was on the committee that interrogated the headmistress of Beauxbatons, whom your people kidnapped. It's a fact —" she had to stop to catch her breath. She was speaking too fast because of her nervousness, "— Voldemort is going to attack Beauxbatons and Durmstrang this very night."

"What?" Draco blurted out, unable to contain himself. Hermione nodded, trying to keep her composure.

"The attacks on Azkaban and Godric's Hollow in one night were premeditated," the girl continued, grimly. "A bait, to keep us busy for days. He doesn't know if we're watching the schools, so he wanted to make sure we lowered our guard. That we concentrate all our members on the damage of his previous attacks. Divide our forces."

Draco couldn't even blink. Let alone say anything for the next few seconds. He had to look away from her eyes. Taking it all in slowly. A hundred things bubbling in his head, fighting for dominance.

Samantha. Beauxbatons. Durmstrang. Godric's Hollow. Azkaban. The prisoners...

Azkaban. His father. The Dark Lord didn't really need the prisoners. He had enough Death Eaters in his ranks. He had only released them to create another situation to keep the Order busy. It benefited him. And it showed the wizarding community that He could do whatever He wanted. He wasn't wasting his time. He wasn't doing anything for them...

Samantha…

They were going to attack the schools. Finally. Draco knew perfectly well that the Dark Lord had been eager to get his hands on them since the war began. Granger was right in her suspicions. And that was possibly why he had kept Samantha alive all this time. He was going to use her for something, Draco was sure, but for what? He had already extracted information from her. He already knew everything he could possibly know about Beauxbatons. Or not? What was he going to do to her...?

"I don't know why he decided to do it now," she continued, almost to herself. Seeing that he still had no intention of speaking. "That is beyond me. Maybe... he hasn't been strong enough to take over the schools so far, I don't know... But now he seems to be, and it's not exactly reassuring."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Strong enough... The dragon. It had to be that. The dragon they'd captured in Berry Pomeroy Castle. It couldn't be a coincidence, they had caught it just a week ago. He had referred to it as a dragon that would make the wizarding world his own. He would use it to take over the schools. He had to... he had to tell Granger...

But, if he did, there was no going back. He would be a traitor.

"But," the girl then added, "the good news is that, now that we know, we can get a head start. We're going to the schools to defend them. Without them knowing. They will fall into a trap."

And the dragon disappeared from Draco's head. He looked at her with renewed surprise. The Order truly wouldn't give up. They had guts. And Granger was an idiot.

"Do you realise you just told me your plan?" Draco questioned then. Accusing. "You just told a Death Eater that you are planning an ambush against his side."

She laughed in an audible exhale. She just looked at him in bewilderment. As if she hadn't expected that.

"Draco, you're not going to rat us out..."

"Don't treat me like I'm an ally," he warned, gruffly. Slurring his words a lot. As if he wanted to make it clear. "I'm a prisoner. And of course I'm not going to rat you out, because I'm being held captive in this hole..."

"So that's why you're not going to rat us out? Because you can't?" she replied, irritated. Draco became even more enervated. Feeling his pride hurt. Fighting stubbornly for what he still was.

"Exactly. I'm sorry," he snapped, scathingly, "I'm sorry if I'm not what you expected, or if even at this point I'm disappointing you. But I have no intention of helping your side win the war."

She arched both eyebrows coolly. And there was silence between them. Five long seconds, in which they did not blink. Silver against bronze. Ice against fire. And it was Draco who ended up snorting impatiently. Looking away without being able to help it. Irritated.

Maybe he wasn't who he thought he was anymore...

"Fuck, stop..." he said, annoyed, mumbling, alluding to her determined look. "You know I wouldn't... I'd never tell them anything you tell me. I won't put you in danger. I am doing it for you," he said, adamant. In a last-ditch attempt to hold his ground.

Hermione just looked at him, unfazed. She ran her tongue over her lips and looked away. Taking a deep breath. Her eyes had glazed over. And she seemed to be struggling to breathe. But it looked more like frustration than hurt.

"You say that over and over again," she managed to articulate. With sudden distress. And anger. "You keep talking about yourself as if you were a Death Eater. As if you were loyal. One of his own. You insist I'm the exception. But," she interrupted herself to swallow. Her throat betraying her. "Despite that, I'm sure you don't agree with what has happened in Godric's Hollow. I refuse to believe that you approve of such methods," her voice suddenly sounded pleading, though she did not intend it. "You cannot agree to such a thing. Killing those people. Like that. I know you and — believe it or not, that's not who you are. And I don't believe that you still feel a part of it. That you're still in favour of the sovereignty of the magical blood that Lord Voldemort defends."

Draco looked into her eyes. Scanning her features in the background. His mouth was ajar, and he snapped it shut when he realised. He gritted his teeth. Very hard. Not to speak. Not to speak at all. He didn't have to answer. Not until he was sure of what he was going to say. And it seemed to him that he would never be sure...

He looked down, his heart pounding in his ears. Focusing on the mission he had undertaken in Godric's Hollow. Now that he knew everything, he saw it differently. It had been necessary to keep going. To keep moving across the board. The Dark Lord did nothing in vain. It was all part of a bigger plan. He could understand that. And yet... Damn it, he was still thinking the same thing he'd thought when he'd first heard the instructions from Nott. That it was unnecessary. An inhuman barbarity. All he could think of at that moment was to warn the Order. And, in fact, he ended up doing so.

Because he hadn't been able to help Nott. Because he had tried to save the life of one family, without succeeding, and he knew he couldn't save any more. Because he could only save one little boy. All of this, fighting against himself again and again. Against his sense of duty. Betraying himself, in practice, but not really feeling it as a betrayal of his beliefs...

Would he have acted the same way if he'd known all along that it was all a ploy to keep the Order busy afterwards, while they conquered the schools? Would he have warned the Order anyway?

Yes. Hell, yes...

Shit. Shit. Shit...

He'd been fighting that war for two years. He'd killed dozens of people. He'd fought for his future. For his family's. In vain?

He knew he couldn't let himself think like that. He had to be loyal to his family. His family was the most important thing. It was everything. But he was stubbornly forcing himself to think in a way that until now had never been difficult for him. Now there were cracks in his mind. In his obedience. He felt he was now thinking for himself. He felt awake. Now he had no more doubts. And that terrified him.

Mudbloods… Pure-bloods… Blood…

He could feel Hermione's gaze on his face. But she wasn't saying anything. Giving him all the time he needed to answer. But Draco didn't want to answer. Thinking was one thing. It was his. It was maddening, and embarrassing, and he hated himself, because he was becoming everything he once hated. But, in his mind, he didn't have to deal with anyone else. Or justify himself. Or confess that he felt he was living a mistake. Admitting a mistake had never been his strong suit. And saying it out loud made it real. And he felt he couldn't take it back afterwards.

To be honest. To be honest. Was he allowed to be honest?

With her, yes. He was alone with her. She would understand. She understood everything.

He moved his tongue inside his mouth, and understood that saying it in front of her was not so difficult. That he could do it. Talking to her was always easy. He was scared to death. But her hand was still around his wrist. Holding him as she surely had no idea.

But then he noticed his own tear falling down his cheek. The sudden sensation startling him. Without having noticed himself in such a state. And the uncontrollability of the gesture embarrassed him so much that he felt suddenly unable to open his mouth afterwards. He made the young woman let go of his hand so that he could bring it to his face. Wiping the bloody, treacherous drop with his fist. Covering his eyes with his palm. Anticipating the tears that, now he could tell, were about to come.

He felt Hermione move on the bed. Moving closer. He felt her hand on his head. Covering his ear, stroking his hair with her thumb. Her face moved closer to his, until she rested her forehead on the back of his hand, which still hid his eyes from the world.

"Breathe," she whispered. Her breath hitting the skin of his hand. "I am with you. I will be with you."

And the boy felt as if he had confessed the truth to her, without having said anything. He who remains silent, consents, or so it was said. And, of course, she had read through him.

"Thank you..." crossed his mind.

Draco closed his eyes tighter. And focused on controlling his breathing. The tremors in his chest. One of his sobs came to be heard amidst the silence, but Hermione didn't say a word about it. She just stayed close to his face. All the time he needed to compose himself.

He ended up pulling away from her, leaning back. He sniffled and swallowed. Rubbing his face with his fist. Breathing through his mouth, hard, until he felt in control of himself again. Still not looking her in the eyes. His eyes fixed on his own legs. And so he saw how she now placed her hand on his thigh, above the blankets, and gently caressed it. Squeezing it affectionately.

She had seen him naked dozens of times. And never had he felt so naked before her as he did at that moment.

Forcing himself to show control of his emotions again, and to ignore the heat of his face with composure, he looked at her again. She looked calm. Not a hint of accusation in her eyes. No moral superiority. No satisfaction. Not a hint of anything. Just a veiled concern for him, knowing how much he was fighting inside. She was still silent, allowing him to speak first.

And Draco, looking into her eyes, felt again that he had just confessed to being a blood traitor. Though he hadn't really said it. But he was. And now she knew it. Now he knew it himself. And he couldn't help but feel his stomach feel lighter. And he supposed that was enough.

"No one knew about the motive," Draco heard himself saying. And it surprised him that his voice sounded almost normal. Because he didn't feel normal. "And now I understand why. Why he didn't tell anyone. It was disproportionate. Unnecessary. He knew that some Death Eaters would revolt if they knew the actual reason. There were wizards there, in the village. There were pure-bloods. And we had orders to kill them all. A distraction is not a good enough reason."

Hermione blinked, taking in his words. Accepting that he was right. Voldemort would stop at nothing to expand his power and his conquests. And he knew that not all of his soldiers would share in some of his actions. So he chose to omit certain information and trust in their blind loyalty. He was playing a dangerous game, based on the fear of his subordinates and blind loyalty to him and to the purity of blood...

"Do you know anything about Nott?" Draco asked then, snapping her out of her thoughts. Hermione looked up at him again, and saw him with an unperturbed expression. Self-possessed again. And she was surprised once again at how quickly he could recover every time he broke down. Much faster than she could. She had always suspected that the boy had lived a life in which it was imperative to create a façade of credible assurance. As if he was always in control of the situation. It didn't matter how he felt inside.

"No, I'm sorry. I haven't found any sign of him. Not alive, not dead," the girl confessed, measuring her words. Draco didn't flinch, almost as if he expected it. "There was no body," she insisted, at his lack of response. "So it's possible that he's alive. He may have gone with the others. There's no point in imagining the worst..."

"It was in the graveyard, by the church," he reminisced, after running his tongue over his lips. "The last time I saw him, he was on the ground between the graves."

"I searched that area," she said, quietly but confidently. Evoking the place. The bodies. "There were two victims from Voldemort's side. An older man and a woman. They were hit by rocks from the shattered façade of the church. I don't know their names. And inside were the bodies of Crabbe and Goyle. I saw them. You were right, it was them."

Draco nodded dispassionately. Almost far away. Lost in thought. Hermione could see the tension in his neck. He was probably gritting his teeth with all his might.

"Don't blame yourself for this. For Nott," Hermione whispered, not taking her eyes off him. She saw him exhale through his nose sharply, then look back up at her. His eyes twitched with irritation.

"You have no idea to what extent it's my fault," he accused her, in a cold hiss. "It was because of me. What happened to Nott is all my fault."

"Draco, I wasn't there, but I'm sure —"

"He wanted to leave," he then revealed. In a rush. Bursting out as if he couldn't contain it any longer. "He wanted to defect, wanted to leave the ranks of the Dark Lord. He always wanted to. He didn't want to attack those people. He found out that they didn't release his father from Azkaban, and possibly never would, and he didn't find any reason to pretend anymore. And I didn't let him leave," he faltered for a moment, as his voice became dangerously breathless. He took an urgent breath and continued speaking in a rush, "I forced him to stay. Because I knew they would find him and kill him for deserting. I told him he had to stay to survive. But then he attacked Greyback to save a woman, and he — if I'd let him leave —"

"He would have been killed," Hermione interrupted him, firmly. She moved a little closer and put her hand on his cheek again. Forcing him to look at her. "Draco, you were right. Deserters on your side do get killed sooner or later. Nott could die in that battle, but he would surely die if he defected. You did the right thing," she said, imperious.

But that sentence shook Draco from head to toe. And Hermione could feel his jaw tremble in her grip. With anger.

"The right thing?" he mumbled. He wrapped his hand around hers and forced her hand away. "What is the right thing to do, is this the right thing to do? That Nott may have died because of me, that I was almost killed, and now I've become a bloody prisoner of the Order? If this is what the right thing to do is, it's a massive shitty thing to do. Or maybe I don't know how to do it. Because, every time I try, I fuck it all up. I haven't... I haven't achieved anything. Doing the right thing doesn't do anything. It's... exasperating, it's much harder, and it doesn't guarantee you anything."

"Draco, doing the right thing doesn't work like that," Hermione whispered. Her brow furrowed in disbelief. "It doesn't mean, and it doesn't guarantee, that everything's going to be all right. Of course it doesn't. But it's the way to behave. The best course of action."

"Why? What for?" he spat, fuming. Hermione had rarely seen him so angry. With himself. "The last time I tried to do what I thought was right was when I pushed you away from me at Hogwarts, and those were some of the worst moments of my life. And I've spent the night trying to do the right thing, Merlin knows why, and I've possibly fucked my life up doing it. I should have learned that trying to think of others is useless..."

"I don't see it that way," she interrupted, stubbornly. "Don't say again that it was useless. You're alive. You're with me. And your Patronus saved a lot of people. I mobilised the Order instantly. You did an incredible thing. You saved innocent lives," she said, emphatically. But he shook his head, smiling cynically. Unimpressed.

"Not the lives I care about," he hissed, looking away.

Now it was Hermione who was shaking her head. Angry. Frustrated that he felt that way. As intent on changing it as he was on his stance.

"Draco, you can't think like that. Doing the right thing is the best thing you can do. You can have a clear conscience, knowing you've done all you can. Of course it won't always work out, nothing ever guarantees that," she leaned a little closer to him. Determined. "You once told me not to feel guilty for having done everything I could and not succeeding. That's the same thing."

Draco clicked his tongue, averting his gaze. Not looking convinced at all. And yet he was blinking more than usual. Unable to stop himself from thinking about her words. Because he still felt like he was at a dead end, up to his neck in trouble...

But she believed he had done the right thing. She was proud of him.

And... he felt he had to do it again. She had given him the go-ahead to behave like this. Even though it wasn't what his instinct was telling him to do. Because it was difficult. Exhausting. But he supposed he had to do it. Had to do the right thing.

"I have to go back."

Hermione got tongue-tied. Her mouth hung open, about to speak again, staring at him. He had looked at her again. Sizing her up with his grey eyes. And his face looked worryingly determined.

"What?" she whispered, using the breath she still had inside her. Draco didn't blink. "Back? Back where?"

"To the ranks of the Dark Lord," he clarified, in the same tone. "I have to go back. I've got a lot to sort out."

"Don't be silly," Hermione blurted out, without hesitation. She frowned in confusion. "That's absurd. You have to stay here."

Draco clicked his tongue dismissively.

"Here for what, to enjoy the Cruciatus Curse from the next interrogation?"

"We don't torture prisoners," Hermione protested, gibbering furiously. Wounded in her pride. Draco gasped in disbelief.

"Tell me you're joking?"

"They intend to give you Veritaserum," she clarified, grimly. But wanting to prove to him that they were effective. Draco arched an eyebrow.

"All the more reason to," he sneered, almost mockingly. Hermione snorted loudly, tired of his patronising.

"I've prevented it. I've left them without supplies, for the moment. Just —" she faltered and looked down. Searching for the right words. "Stay. You can stay. And help us," she suggested then, breathlessly. And she added, before he could say anything else, "You know I've never asked you to. And I never would have, but, now —" She searched his eyes again. But he wasn't looking at her. "Now you don't think like a follower of Lord Voldemort. You can stay with us. I will protect you. They won't find you, I'll take care of it personally. Help us win this war. Be an ally. Tell the Order what you have told me. Everything you can tell us," she suggested. Hesitantly. Not knowing what his reaction would be. Draco forced a wry smile. Without looking at her.

"I told you I'm not going to help your side," he repeated, coldly.

"Why?" she muttered. Without sounding accusatory. Just confused. She just needed to understand.

"Because, right now, it doesn't do me any good. On the contrary, I'm risking a lot. And not exactly my neck," he looked at her again. With fiery eyes. "Despite your good intentions, the odds of your proposal backfiring, and the Dark Lord catching me, are considerable."

"You don't think I can protect you?" Hermione interrupted, fuming. Draco let out a listless exhale. As if he was amused.

"I think you're the only one I'd allow to protect me," he replied, calmly. Looking at her from beneath eyelids drooped with indolence. She relaxed her shoulders. Satisfied. Touched. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm risking your life. And when he finds me, because he will, he won't just wipe me off the map. I've been his Black Sergeant. He knows my military value. He knows that I won't just ask for cover in the Order, but that my role will be more important. That I will have information about all of you. And, in seeking it, he will find you in my head."

The girl pursed her lips impatiently. As if that was an absurd reason.

"And if that doesn't happen?" she mumbled, with slight derision. "What if your people don't find you?"

"If this goes even remotely well, and I become a crony of the Order, I'm risking my parents' lives," Draco spat, bitterly. "Even if he doesn't catch me, he'll find out I'm a traitor. I have no doubt of that. And I'll condemn my family for it. I'm not going to risk either."

Hermione let out a deep sigh.

"There must be another —"

"Yes, there might be," Draco corroborated, emphatically, not letting her finish. "Maybe there is another way. But I don't have time to think of other options right now. I don't know how to act now that I'm thinking like this. I've never thought like this. I'm —" he interrupted himself and let out a deep sigh full of frustration. "I just know that I can't decide anything right now. The only thing that's clear to me is that I can't defect. Not now. I leave too many things there to sort out. You say I've done the right thing, but, in reality, I've made a lot of mistakes tonight. And I have to go back and fix it. I have to find out what happened to Nott. And protect my parents. I've faced several of my comrades tonight, for refusing to do my master's bidding. If they tell, and I'm not there... My parents may pay the price for my betrayal. And that I cannot allow."

Hermione shook her head. Looking annoyed. Because she could perfectly understand his motives.

"Draco, I'm sorry, but I don't think you're thinking clearly," she replied, even then. Unable to give too much credence to such an idea. "I understand what you're saying, but you can't go back. It's reckless. You just said it yourself, you've — you've betrayed them. You didn't follow orders. You alerted the Order of the Phoenix. You attacked Greyback... They'll kill you for being a traitor anyway, as soon as —"

"I can defend myself in there," he objected. "I can clear my name. I'll manage."

"You don't know that. You can't risk your life hanging on to an assumption like that," Hermione said, more emphatically. "If you stay here —"

"— they'll give me Veritaserum, or some other crap, and the Order will find out that you and I are together," Draco interrupted, exasperated. "Does that seem like a better alternative?"

"To you being killed by your people? Yes, I assure you it is," the girl spat, fiercely annoyed. "If you return, Voldemort won't use Veritaserum, but he will delve into your mind. And no matter how good an Occlumant you are, you can't fight that. Are you... aware of everything we've just talked about? If you come back thinking the way you're thinking now, you're going to certain death."

"He can't register my thoughts," Draco argued, impatiently. "Only my memories. My actions. Maybe... maybe he could detect my feelings, but I can prevent that," he added, almost to himself. "Even that wouldn't be enough to confirm that I'm no longer on his side."

"But he'll see about us," Hermione emphasised, as if she thought he'd forgotten, "all of our meetings, and something like that is a thousand times more dangerous than the Order finding out about us. You can't deny me that. And you're still weak, for God's sake, you can't go back there and face them. What's the point? Even in top shape, you couldn't fight them all..."

Draco was staring at her as she spoke. Almost not hearing her. Just watching her chatter, move, gesticulate. Passionate, angry, worried about him. Her every movement raised ashes. And he was feeling his heart racing. Granger didn't care if the Order discovered their relationship? Well, it was certainly a far more palatable option than Draco being killed. But it was still dangerous. Especially for her. It could cause her serious problems with her people. It would certainly cause them. She was seeing, behind everyone's back, an active Death Eater. A Black Sergeant. And no one would believe her intentions were innocent. That they were doing it for any other reason than to pass information to each other. They would believe she was a traitor.

No one in their right mind would believe they were in love.

Besides, Potter was part of the Order, everyone knew that. And the entire Weasley family had disappeared from the map. Which indicated that they were also in the Order's ranks. They would both find out about their secret relationship. And that didn't sound bearable for the girl either. He wouldn't let it happen, he wouldn't let her lose them...

And Draco, to his own regret, was clear on what the solution was. It was right in front of him, and he felt as if he was closing his eyes so as not to see it. But he couldn't ignore it anymore. He had to protect her. She was the only thing that felt right.

"Erase my memory."

Silence took over the room. Hermione had once again stopped halfway through her altered argument. But she fell silent abruptly. Mouth still open. She met Draco's eyes. He was patiently waiting for her reaction.

"What?" she gasped. Barely inaudible in the silence. She felt like she'd asked the same question so many times in the last few minutes. "What? No... How am I going to — ? No," she sputtered more firmly, narrowing her eyes in disbelief. Not quite understanding. But completely disagreeing.

"You have to erase yourself from my head," he specified, trying to speak sanely.

"No way," Hermione declared, firmly. Looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. But a thousand and one implications of such a thing were creeping into her subconscious. Strangling her throat. "I'm not going to do it. I said no," she added, louder, when she saw his mouth open again. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Granger, it's the only way I can get back," he repeated, leaning forward a little more. Piercing her with his grey eyes. Reaching out again for her hand. But she pulled it away in one swift gesture. As if touching her would trigger his memory loss. "But of course I cannot stand before the Dark Lord with you in my head. With this very conversation in mind," he exemplified, more emphatically. Pointing at them both. Hermione was shaking her head as he spoke. Maintaining her refusal. "I do not intend to let him find you in my mind. Let him find out that you're part of the Order of the Phoenix. I will not make you a target."

"I will not erase myself from you," she said. And her voice trembled with every syllable. Because, again, she understood his point of view, and she couldn't bear to do it. And she could hardly accept not knowing how to argue with him. It was the worst time in the world to lose an argument against him.

"Listen to me, maybe... it's not necessary to erase everything. He's going to search my memories, that's a fact. But I don't know to what extent. What he'll want to examine to see if I'm a traitor," Draco said, speaking slowly. Trying to talk some sense into her like that. He reached out again, and this time she allowed him to grasp her forearm. "Tonight, that's for sure. And these last few hours. But you could leave what happened at Hogwarts. I got the Death Eaters into the castle, he knows I was loyal to him then. He won't search my mind before that time, it would be a waste of time. Erase only our encounters during the war. Just these last few months. Just — just in case. It is the only thing that will keep us both safe."

He shifted his gaze from one eye to the other of the girl as he spoke. And she knew he was watching them flood with tears. Hermione's jaw was trembling. And her head was still shaking from side to side, already of its own volition.

"But you won't remember that we've met again," she mumbled as if he wasn't even aware of it. Breathing raggedly. "You won't remember that we met in Blucher Street. We'll never meet again, and — no!" she cried louder, angry, when she saw him open his mouth again to interrupt her. She jerked out of his hand. "There has to be another solution. We just have to think about —"

"Granger..." Draco insisted, sternly. Crawling across the bed to get closer. He tried to grab her arm, but she pulled it back, not allowing him to do so. She kept shaking her head, harder and harder.

"I'm not going to do it, I-I can't..."

Her voice broke. Letting out a loud sob that left her breathless. And now she couldn't stop him from grabbing her shoulder. She had no room to move away. She closed her eyes, unable to help herself, and lowered her face. Succumbing to tears, she pressed her forearm against her stomach and covered her face with her free hand. Shrinking in on herself. Breathing through sobs. Feeling herself falling apart and not knowing where to lean. Because her biggest support couldn't hold her up at that moment.

"Hermione, listen to me," he murmured then. And she felt him let go of her shoulder, so that he could pull her hand away from her face. Hermione didn't want to open her eyes, but she didn't have to. Draco had brought his face close to hers. She felt him lean his forehead against hers. His hand cupped her cheek, his fingers tangled in her hair. "I need you to listen to me. Don't you dare think, even for a moment, that you're not my priority. Or that I don't want to stay with you, anywhere," he articulated, clearly. Focusing on emphasising every syllable. In a low voice. Just for her.

"I know..." she whispered in return, not even stopping to think about it. Because of course she knew. She'd never doubted it. Draco's thumb began to run over her skin. Wiping the only cheek he could reach in that position.

"But I can't abandon my mother, or my father, or Nott," he continued. His breath hitting her lips. "I have to be by their side. You're all right now, you're safe," he emphasised. And his thumb pinched her cheek harder in its rhythmic back and forth, "and I need to know that they are, too. They are my family. I can't just walk away and abandon them," he let out an exhausted sigh. "I need to go back and make things right. That's the right thing to do. Am I wrong?"

Hermione's closed eyes squeezed tighter. No, he wasn't wrong. She thought about what she would do if she were in his situation. If Harry or Ron were in Nott's place. If her parents were the boy's. Would she go back to a side she no longer felt was hers, risking her life? Of course she would. She would go to the ends of the earth for them. And she understood Draco's point perfectly. He wasn't going back out of loyalty. Out of hatred for Muggles, or anything like that. Not anymore. He was returning to protect his family.

"I know. I understand," she assured him, in a whisper. Her breath hitched against his skin. Draco's hand on her jaw pulled her in a little closer, until their lips were pressed together. Pressing a firm kiss against her mouth. Loosening it later, transforming it into a more intimate one. Unhurried. Wet lips recognising each other as they had done a thousand times before.

They broke the kiss, languidly. Without really wanting to. But the girl, still trying to control her tears, found it difficult to breathe. Even so, he kept his hand on her face. Holding her close. Skin to skin. Though Hermione needed space to compose herself. To think clearly. To hold the pieces of her heart together until she allowed it to break. But first there was much to do.

She pulled back slowly, forcing him to release her. Taking deep breaths to stop the hiccups. Sniffling, she wiped her hand across the cheek he hadn't reached.

"Are you well enough to go back?" she asked then, in a firm whisper. "To fight, if necessary? What about your wounds?"

Her eyes roamed over his arm. He did not blink. He moved his right shoulder slightly, raising the whole arm, the sling, all together. Not even a wince of pain.

"Leave that to me," he said. Hermione seemed to hesitate, strongly tempted to insist, but ended up nodding. There was no point, given his stubbornness. "Can you do a Memory Charm, then?" he returned to the subject, cautiously. Reminding her of the least pleasant point of the discussion. Hermione hesitated for a moment, and Draco prepared to insist again. But he didn't need to.

"Yes, I can. But... I'm not convinced. It would leave holes in your mind. Empty holes, no memories." She sighed impatiently as if the situation required a detailed explanation she didn't have time to give. "It's not plausible. The Memory Charm is only useful in a situation where the mind is not being delved. With Legilimency, one can see the gaps in one's memory. It is too obvious. It is much more useful to change some memories for others. Like... putting a veil over them. A veil containing another memory. False memories."

Draco blinked. Considering the proposal. It was similar to what Nott had done to him at Berry Pomeroy Castle. And that time it had worked. Would it work again?

"That would help," he admitted. In a nearly breathless whisper. "Can you do it?"

Hermione nodded. She wiped away another tear that slid down her cheek. Mechanically. Not paying attention to it. She couldn't stop crying, but she didn't have time to worry about it. It wasn't important.

"I did it with my parents. To hide them," she confessed, serene. Staring at a spot on his chest.

Draco went blank for a few seconds. Her parents... She'd never told him... He'd never asked her...

"Wouldn't it be... too simple?" he muttered. Seeing in the girl's eyes that she didn't want to bring up the subject of her own parents. "Put a simple veil over them, but keep them there... I have a feeling he'll search my mind thoroughly..."

"Sometimes the simplest thing is the safest and most undetectable," she replied, determined. "We'll replace every night on Blucher Street with memories of you sleeping wherever — wherever you normally sleep. At your headquarters, or wherever," she proposed, her intelligent eyes moving in their sockets, creating a plan at full speed. "And this conversation for an Order interrogation. We can... extend this morning's interrogation. Fake some kind of scene."

Draco listened to her plotting everything, grateful that she didn't ask him any questions. Because he felt it would be hard for him to speak. Because he was watching her wiping away tears as she spoke with absolute effectiveness. Suffering. But fighting to help him. And he felt his world was falling apart. He was going to forget her. Forget that they had met again. He would live believing that they broke up at Hogwarts, the night of the attack on the castle. He would live without all the memories of Blucher Street. Believing that they had broken up forever.

'We should bring a couple of blankets next time.'

'What if I do e-everything I can and lose you too?'

'Will you marry me?'

And at that moment he wasn't sure he was strong enough to give Hermione Granger up. Not again.

But looking into her eyes as she continued to speak, remembering how many years he'd known her, remembering everything that had happened between them... he told himself that remembering all that and watching her die because of him was infinitely worse.

'Don't you realise that you're risking her bloody neck by doing this?'

"Erase what you've told me about the schools too," he reminded her, trying hard to be as effective as she was. Interrupting her. Not knowing what she was talking about. Needing to stop thinking. "That you're planning to set them up... If they get it out of me, it won't do you any good. Although..." he mumbled, almost to himself, "I admit that I find the Dark Lord's action plan ingenious in theory, but flimsy in practice. He relies too much on keeping you busy. Three attacks of that magnitude in forty-eight hours? And a large number of squadrons were in Godric's Hollow... The Death Eaters will be exhausted. They can't be efficient in such close battles. There will be barely a few left who are still useful. Even if they think they won't encounter the Order of the Phoenix as resistance, they'll have to fight teachers, maybe students..."

But then he realised that Hermione wasn't listening to him. She was staring at him. Mute. Unblinking. Seeing right through him. And Draco had a feeling he wouldn't like her next words...

"Maybe we can maintain that," the girl murmured, in turn. In barely a whisper. And Draco thought he hadn't heard her right.

"I beg your pardon?" he sputtered, incredulously. Hermione was breathing heavily. And she looked almost frightened.

"That memory. To keep the fact that you know we'll defend the schools. Well, changing it. Creating a false memory, so that you'll find out differently..."

"And may I ask why I should be privy to your bloody secret plan?" Draco mumbled, furiously derisive.

"Because then you can tell your people," she said, firmly. "We need to make sure they don't doubt that you've been a prisoner. That you're not an undercover spy. You have to bring them something. Information. A tip-off. Then they'll trust you for good."

"That's not necessary," Draco said instantly, not even considering it.

"Yes, it is. We can't leave anything to chance," she spat. Forceful now. As if making the decision. "You'll tip them off that the Order will be waiting for them at the schools. And when they see it's true, they'll blindly trust you to be loyal."

Draco gave her a wide-eyed look. Completely taken aback. He, to his own resignation, was getting used to thinking like a traitor. By now, to not thinking, at all, according to one allegiance or another. To do only what was best for him. But her? Betraying her people? She had no reason to do such a thing...

"You can't be serious... You're going to send your people into a trap?" he questioned, speaking slowly. Wanting to make sure she was aware of what she was saying.

Hermione took a shaky breath. She blinked, staring at the old quilt. Her heart trembling.

"No — not exactly. Even if the Death Eaters know about our plan, they can't stop us from going there. All that will happen is that we'll lose the element of surprise. But our defence of the schools will be solid. Besides, you said it yourself, the number of soldiers, and their forces, will be sapped. We will be able to stand up to them. I am sure of it. And this way, with this information, they won't kill you..." she added, her voice cracking. But firm in her thought.

Draco, who couldn't take his eyes off hers, saw her jaw clench. Holding back tears again. He could see she was scared. Overwhelmed with guilt for acting against her people. But determined to do this. For him. So that he wouldn't be killed.

With such information, Draco was sure they would welcome him back into their ranks. He would be a hero. He was, undoubtedly, saved.

"You don't have to do this," Draco forced himself to mutter. She composed a fleeting, almost wry smile.

"You're wrong..."

"Are you going to the schools?" he asked then. Hermione looked at him again, confused by the subtle change of subject. "To defend them?"

She blinked, frowning.

"It doesn't —"

"Granger, I will not reveal the Order's plans to the Death Eaters if it puts you in danger," he said flatly, probing her eyes. "If you're going to be in that battle, I won't tell them anything. I will not lead you into an ambush. Don't you dare maintain that memory."

The girl hesitated, understanding his point. But she ended up shaking her head.

"I'm not going. Not at first, at least. I'm part of the second detachment," she revealed, cautiously. "If things go wrong, and the first needs reinforcements, we'll go in."

"Make sure you don't go," Draco ordered. Sharp. "Do as you please. I don't give a damn. Stunned yourself, or break a bloody leg. But don't go there. Not in the second detachment, not in the fifth."

Hermione scrutinised his eyes. Fierce and menacing. Lethal. And she nodded her head. Agreeing. Draco seemed to relax physically, but his eyes were still two hurricanes. He ran his tongue over his lips and held her hand in his again. Clasping her fingers. Rubbing his thumb along the back of them. Along her knuckles. In circles. Vigorously. Too much. As if he wanted to show, using force, that he was fine. That he wasn't worried.

"Are you sure about this?" he murmured again. His eyes fixed on her hand. On how her skin was reddening with the emphasis of his caresses. And then her fingers closed around his hand. Holding him still. Stopping his almost frantic back and forth. He looked into her eyes. And found her looking at him as if she knew his heart was about to explode.

"I want you alive," Hermione whispered clearly. "With me, or without me, but alive. Any more memories I should hide? Any actions in Godric's Hollow that incriminate you as a traitor, that you don't want them to see? You say you stood up to some of your comrades..." she then questioned, still in a low voice.

Draco cleared his throat and released her hand. Leaning back against the pillow. Pretending he hadn't stopped being in control of himself.

"And maybe those comrades have told. It may be risky to hide it. I'll manage. But erase what happened in the church, the conversation I had with Crabbe and Goyle. And also the memory of the Patronus I sent you..."

And that reminder shook Hermione from head to toe. Suddenly looking alarmed.

"Draco, your wand... They're examining your wand, they'll see your latest spells..." she revealed hastily, holding a hand to her chest. But Draco shook his head, understanding her point. Unperturbed.

"I didn't use mine for the Patronus. I used... a victim's," he muttered. Not wanting to elaborate. Hermione inhaled deeply. At first, she couldn't decide whether to be relieved or horrified. But she ended up nodding. Pulling herself together.

"All right. Fine. I'll get your wand back," she said, nibbling on her thumbnail. "I know where they're keeping it..."

"And how are you going to get me out of here?" he asked then. As if that detail had just dawned on him. She blinked rapidly. Thinking at full speed.

"I'm not sure. I don't know how, yet, but we'll be able to do something. I just... I need a minute to think about it. We have to plan it out really well..." she mumbled. And Draco had to settle for that. "You can't see this place. Voldemort can't see this place."

"Yeah..." he muttered, resignedly, looking around. The sober room. He hadn't stopped to think about where he was...

"If I remove the protective enchantments from this room — no, even then we can't Disapparate; my magic isn't enough, there are too many spells here," the girl mumbled to herself. Angry with herself and her abilities. "Besides, a member of the Order can't help you. Not even anonymously. Because Voldemort will see it too. He has to see you escape from here on your own, or he'll get suspicious. But you need someone to — someone who isn't —" She fell silent suddenly. Staring at the wall. After blinking, pondering a sudden idea, she stared at him. "Kreacher..."

It took him a moment to react, thinking he had understood her incorrectly.

"What? Kreacher? What's that?"

"A house-elf. He's here, and... belonged to the Black family. He'll recognise you as his master. He'll obey you without hesitation, I'm sure. And his magic will be able to break through the protective enchantments of this house, he will be able to get you out of here."

Her eyes glittered, excited at the idea. Frantically assessing, in her head, all the possibilities. Draco watched her in awe. It could work. He could leave.

"You're amazing..." he muttered. But she didn't hear him. She was waving her hands. Her brain boiling. Carrying on with the plan.

"At nine o'clock my watch ends. And then another comrade will come to look after you. I'd better not be the one here, or they may suspect me directly and delve into my mind. After the changing of the watch, Kreacher will come, S-Stun whoever comes, and offer to take you out of here. As if it were his initiative. He can retrieve your wand himself... We'll talk to him now, so he can do the pantomime. Because you can't be aware of the plan... You'll already have lost your memories. So all you'll know is that a house-elf who belonged to your family set you free. And that's what Voldemort will see when he delves into your mind."

"It's perfect," he murmured. Managing to follow her train of thought. She wasn't interested in his approval, though. She was looking more and more agitated. The plan taking shape as she spoke.

"Call him," Hermione urged. She turned to pick up the Phoenix Mask she'd left on the bedside table. "And explain to him what he has to do. He'll be loyal to you, I assure you."

Draco nodded his head. With, actually, no other choice. He waited until she had covered her clarifying hair with the hood of her robes, and her face with the mask. He looked into her eyes, seeking her confirmation, and then his powerful voice echoed through the room:

"Kreacher!"

Instantly, the elderly house-elf materialised in the centre of the room. He turned his bloodshot eyes first to a masked Hermione, not recognising her, and then to the young man on the bed. Suspicious.

"Who is this?" he finished questioningly. In an impertinent manner. Though somewhat cautious. Speaking, for a change, to himself. "Kreacher hadn't seen him before. But he's probably just another miserable traitor... And why is he calling Kreacher? No one ever calls Kreacher. How dare he — ?"

"Careful, creature. I am Draco Malfoy," said the young man, his tone commanding. And Hermione could see in his intonation how accustomed he was to speak to such beings. "Son of Narcissa Black. I am a descendant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. You were the elf who served the family, right?"

Kreacher's eyes widened. To no real surprise to either youth, he threw himself face-first onto the floor with a wrenching shriek. Crawling across the wood until he reached the foot of the bed, he moved to kiss the quilt with his cracked, tiny lips. Hermione was then grateful for the Muffliato Charm she had made earlier.

"Master Black!" he cried in his hoarse voice. "At last one of our bloodline in this house! At last we are — !"

"Don't tell me where I am," Draco ordered instantly, cautiously. He cleared his thoughts and added, "I have orders for you. Orders that you may not reveal to anyone else under any circumstances."

"Of course! Of course, sir...! I'll do anything...!"

"You must Apparate here again after the changing of the watch. When he leaves," he pointed at Hermione. And the girl realised that he wasn't going to miss any precautions to keep her safe. "Nine o'clock. And you need to bring my wand. It's being examined somewhere in this house. Stun the guard who comes after. Then you'll tell me you've come to get me out of here. To free me. You have to pretend it was your initiative. You'll ask me where I want you to take me, and I'll tell you. And we will Apparate there. Do you understand?"

The house-elf nodded with tears of happiness in his eyes.

"Of course, Master. Of course. I will do just that, Master..."

"Don't tell anyone about this, even under threat of torture or death," Draco ordered. Hermione pinched his leg above the blanket, slyly, in disagreement, but he paid her no heed. "Let alone mention him," he pointed at the girl, speaking in an even more inflexible tone. "He has not been here. This was all your idea. Do as you are told, or I swear on all my ancestors I will present you with clothes without a moment's hesitation. Do I make myself clear?"

The elf whimpered at such a threat. And again he bowed frantically.

"Yes, Master, at nine o'clock I will come, Master! I will not fail you, Master!"

And, with a loud crack, Kreacher disappeared. Leaving them alone again. Draco let out an incredulous exhale. Almost amused. Staring at the spot where the creature had disappeared. He couldn't believe it had worked. He looked at Hermione, who was taking off her mask and hood again. She gave him a look full of censure.

"The threat of the clothes wasn't necessary," she protested, mumbling, irritated. Draco was unfazed.

"Yes, it was, believe me."

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She decided, for once in her life, not to argue with him. They looked into each other's eyes. She clenched her jaws. She reached out and picked up her wand, which also rested on the bedside table. Draco's eyes never left her face.

"I'm going to start..." the girl mumbled, her voice feigning calm. She was unable to raise her wand, though. Her eyes didn't look so steady. "We don't have much time. And it's going to take a long time to hide your memories about us..."

Draco irresponsibly ignored her. He crawled across the mattress again, moving closer, and wrapped his healthy arm around her, pulling her close to him. Hermione let him squeeze her against his body. Burying herself in his T-shirt in turn. With one fist clenched against his chest, and her other arm trying to wrap around his back. And then she did feel like it was goodbye. And her throat tightened so that she didn't even manage to sob.

She pressed herself against him. Hiding her pursed lips. Not breathing. She couldn't feel him breathing either. Draco could feel her trembling. Choking on silent sobs that made her back shiver. And he could only hold her tighter. And he cursed the whole world for not being able to use both arms...

He wasn't going to see her again. They were back to square one. Except this time he couldn't assimilate that it would be forever, as he had managed to do that time.

"The spell can be broken, can't it?" he whispered against her ear. Realising then that he was digging his fingers into her back. But he was afraid to let go. Because maybe he was letting her go forever. "You can remove the veil and give me back my memories..."

"Yes," she murmured in return. And the softness of her voice pierced Draco's chest, so much so that he was tempted to tell her that he couldn't do it. But he restrained himself.

"Then it's temporary. You just have to find me and break it," he said instead. As if it was simple. The end of the plan. A happy ending that eluded them again, and again, and again. He lowered his face further. Pressing his mouth against her scalp. Breathing against her.

"I will," he heard her whisper. Serenely again. As if she needed to believe she could do it, too. And Draco closed his eyes. And felt his own chest tremble treacherously as he breathed. He clenched his jaws and stopped breathing. He tangled his fingers in the girl's clothes. Realising that he would never touch her without clothes again. He wouldn't touch her again. If she didn't make it...

"Listen," Draco heard himself whisper. And he himself was curious as to what he was going to say. "I —"

"I know..." she murmured in return. And Draco felt her hand on his back. Stroking it. "I know. I really do."

He didn't know what she knew. And he didn't care. The point was that she did. He reached up with his hand, careful not to break the contact, not to lose her yet, until he reached the nape of her neck. Her hair. Abundant. Soft. Squeezing her now from there. And he felt her hand, the one on his chest, tangle in his T-shirt. Tugging at him in turn. And Draco felt like he wanted to send it all to hell.

Maybe she was right, and they would never see each other again. He wouldn't remember seeing her again. He wouldn't look for her. And he had to tell her. He'd never told her. He was almost certain. He didn't remember, at least. He'd had dozens of opportunities. But he'd never told her...

But maybe that wasn't what she needed to hear... Maybe there was something else he could do for her...

"There's a prison," Draco whispered in her ear. Articulating clearly. "It's on an island, in the Adriatic Sea. In the Nurmengard castle..."