Hi everyone, how are you doing? 😊 I hope very well! I bring a new chapter quite interesting... A bit more "peaceful", you could say, compared to the previous ones (which I hope you liked a lot, by the way) ha ha ha although it will also be bumpy, in its own way... I hope you like it very much 😊

As always, thank you so much to all of you who are there 😍 It's getting closer to the end (three more chapters, and the epilogue... OMG), and I'm getting nostalgic just thinking about it. So, without boring you, I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart once again to all of you who are reading this 😍

And I know you're looking forward to it, so... Let's read! Ha ha ha


CHAPTER 55

Ashes

The sun's rays had long since broken over the distant mountains that surrounded Hogwarts, and the light flooded the castle grounds with a golden halo, reflecting on the dewdrops that the cold night had left behind. The silence that reigned there in the early hours was almost eerie in comparison to the great turmoil of the night.

Nearly all the bodies had been removed from the grounds.

The bloody battle had been over for several hours. The scales had finally tipped in favour of the Order of the Phoenix. With their ill-prepared but effective plan, the skill of their warriors, and, especially, the unexpected death of Lord Voldemort, they had achieved victory.

One of those responsible for that death, perhaps the one directly responsible, stood on the shores of the Great Lake, its great copper-coloured snout plunged into the waters, quenching its thirst. The sun glinted golden glints off every scale of its gigantic body, every time it moved.

The dragon Wyvern of Wye had been on the grounds since the battle had ended. It did not want to enter the castle so as not to frighten the survivors, even though the vast majority had already seen it during the battle. Besides, its size would not allow it to do so without destroying the place more than it already had. Albus Dumbledore, dressed in thick dark purple robes, with golden suns embroidered on the hem and sleeves, stood beside it. The two of them had been there for a long time, surely deciding, together, the fate of the dragon itself. Apparently, the celebrated headmaster of Hogwarts could understand Parseltongue, though not speak it. How he was communicating with the creature was a mystery.

In fact, it was likely that he needed the help of the other person responsible for the Dark Lord's death. Who at that moment was inside the castle. On the first floor. Sitting in one of the two visitor's chairs in Minerva McGonagall's office, in front of her large desk.

Harry had one arm placed in front of his stomach, the other raised so that he could hide his eyes with his palm. Eyes firmly closed. Beside him was Hermione, sitting in the chair next to him. Very stiff, fists clenched in her lap. Eyes glazed over, almost overflowing. Her lower lip was quivering. Standing three feet away, his back to them, was Ron, who was making sounds that straddled the line between choked sobs and angry moans. He kept wiping his eyes with the sleeve of the singed T-shirt he was wearing. That was the only movement in the office. The three friends were alone.

A few hours before dawn, several members of the Order standing on the shore of the Great Lake had seen Draco and Hermione approaching, swimming at the edge of their strength. Recognising the girl as one of their own, they pulled them out of the water, and, seeing their weakened state, helped them to the Hospital Wing. There stood Fleur, who had spent the whole night taking care of as many of the wounded as she could. And the young woman instantly dropped the potion bottle she was holding when she saw Draco Malfoy arrive. Instantly identifying him as the Black Sergeant she herself had taken care of at Grimmauld Place. And so she let the Order members who were accompanying them know. They, bewildered and alarmed at the news, immediately arrested him and dragged him away.

And it made no difference that Hermione swore out loud that he was on their side. That he was not an enemy. Asking them not to hurt him. A Black Sergeant, someone so close to Voldemort, couldn't be on their side. It was ridiculous. Deprived of his black robes, and the brooches on his chest, they did not know that he was, in fact, a General of the Shadows. A rank even higher. Which perhaps would have made the situation even worse.

Fleur, despite her genuine bewilderment at Hermione's defence of an enemy, wanted to take care of the young woman. And examine her. She examined her mind, her judgement and her lucidity. And she found no spell of any kind. She saw traces of the Imperius Curse in her system, but she was no longer under its influence. She was defending this boy in full consciousness.

The Order members who witnessed the girl's controversial statements needed nothing more. She was in the company of a Black Sergeant. She was defending a Black Sergeant. And that could not be overlooked. And also, despite Fleur's protests that the young woman needed medical attention, she was taken into custody.

She was taken to Minerva McGonagall's office on the same floor and warned not to leave. They stopped short of taking her wand. And Hermione, despite the urgency of her system, managed to keep her mind clear and obey. To do otherwise could instantly end any chance she and Draco had of clearing things up.

Hermione didn't know how much time passed, but the door opened again and a dirty and dishevelled, though unharmed, Minerva crossed the doorway with quickened steps. And an exhausted Remus appeared behind her, back in human form with the arrival of the first rays of sunlight.

The man, with his good sense and intelligence, had been best suited to take Kingsley Shackelbot's place as head of the Order, alongside Mad-Eye and Aberforth, since the Auror's death at the Battle of the Schools. And now, apparently, they wanted a notable member of the Order as a witness so that they could interrogate Hermione. To try and clear it all up. To rule out any possible betrayal.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione had greeted immediately, rising to her feet. "Draco's been arrested, Professor. And it's a mistake. He's not against us. They can't arrest him. It's absolutely β€”"

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" the woman had questioned gravely in turn, advancing to stand before her. Hermione gasped for a moment, taken aback, but eventually pulled herself together.

"Yes, of course... But, Professor," she had insisted, more urgently, "he's been taken into custody, and I don't know where β€”"

"Drink, Miss Granger," the woman had replied instead. Generating a glass out of thin air and filling it with water. Hermione, gasping helplessly, picked up the glass but didn't bring it near her mouth.

"Professor, please, he didn't β€”"

"Hermione, are you talking about Draco Malfoy?" Remus had then intervened in a slow voice. And a serious expression. Standing before the girl as well. He was wearing clean black robes, and clean trousers and shirt underneath. Possibly he had been allowed to wash and dress after having been transformed into a werewolf most of the night. "Lucius Malfoy's son? The Black Sergeant we interrogated? Are you saying he's innocent?"

He asked the last question much more cautiously. And, though Hermione expected it, there was no scepticism in his voice. Just puzzlement.

"Yes, he is," she had hurriedly corroborated, heated, grateful that someone was paying attention to her. "He helped me tonight. Together we've protected the dome, and β€”"

"Drink, Miss Granger," McGonagall had insisted, pulling several vials from her robes. Hermione identified a Calming Draught and an Invigoration Draught by the labels.

"Hermione, I suppose you understand that I should ask," Remus had said in turn, his voice clear. "Your statements are very serious. You are defending an enemy. Have you betrayed the Order in any way? Have you passed information to the other side?"

"No, of course not," the girl had stated, undeterred. The memory of what had happened at Grimmauld Place came to her, but she pushed it aside. Now was not the time... "I'm just saying that Draco Malfoy doesn't deserve to go to prison. That he's helped us enough to be considered one of us."

"How can you be so sure of something like that?"

"Because we've been together since before this war started, and we still are. And I can testify on his behalf. I'll vouch for him."

Remus seemed to need a couple of seconds to manage to speak again. On the one hand, he didn't seem to like what he was hearing. On the other, he didn't seem to understand anything at all.

"Hermione, are you aware of what β€” ?" he questioned then, with two deep wrinkles between his eyebrows.

"Remus, Miss Granger is of sound mind," McGonagall had then cut him off. Her voice rising in pitch. Setting the vials down on her own desk with a firm thump. "I am personally aware of the romantic relationship she and Mr Malfoy have had for years. She is not lying. Nor is she lying when she says that Mr Malfoy helped tonight. I also spoke to him hours ago, and I do not know the details, but I can corroborate that he did not impede our victory. So, Miss Granger's defence statement seems to me to be true. But no, I don't think she is aware of what she is doing." She looked at the girl sternly over her spectacles. "She is publicly defending an enemy. An enemy of a high rank. And the evidence she possesses of his innocence is not enough. She is not acting sensibly."

"He's not a real enemy β€”" Hermione had begun in a heated hiss.

"Whatever Mr Malfoy's true motivations, or his feelings, he has been an active participant on the opposing side of this war, Miss Granger," her teacher had interrupted her. Healing with her wand, as she spoke, several of the wounds that could be seen on the young woman's body with the naked eye. A couple of burns. Several grazes. Cuts that no longer bled. "He has killed our people, and hindered our plans. And that makes him an enemy in the eyes of the world. And you need to get that into your head."

"I want to see him," Hermione had then demanded. Her voice trembled with anger. But Remus shook his head, as if in pain.

"No, Hermione, no way," he had replied, gravely. "He's a prisoner. And you, right now, have every chance of being interrogated as a suspected traitor. No one is going to allow β€”"

"Witnesses. Take my wand away. I don't care how, but I want to see him," the girl had repeated. Her voice was still unsteady. Fiercely determined.

McGonagall looked at her with lips pursed in disapproval. And a resigned expression. Remus seemed to feel faint. His face was lowered, and he was rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger, from the centre of his eyebrows outwards. Slowly. Assimilating. Reflecting. In no hurry to speak.

"Don't talk to anyone else about this, Hermione," Remus had added then, still combing his eyebrows. Gravely. But without losing his usual reassuring tone. "It's not good for you. You've been in contact with the enemy, and it's going to be hard for you to justify it. Draco Malfoy is being held prisoner in one of the classrooms that have been set aside for the temporary imprisonment of Death Eaters captured alive tonight. In the next few hours, Aurors from the Ministry will lead them all to Azkaban, awaiting a fair trial. I will try β€” to see if there is a way for you to see each other. But no promises. In the meantime, please don't leave this room. I'll come back for you."

Hermione, with no embarrassment in her eyes, and her chin held high, merely nodded her head. Grateful.

"Drink this, Miss Granger," McGonagall had repeated once more, bluntly. Handing her the vials.

When the door opened again, long after McGonagall and Remus had left Hermione alone again, the sunlight was already shining brightly into the professor's office. This time, it was Harry and Ron who entered. Panting, frantic and bewildered. Quick hugs. Quick checks to make sure all three were all right. Necessary words of comfort, reassurances that several acquaintances were safe. And that others were not. And then came the Erumpent in the room. The reason it had taken them so long to find her. Why she was in there. Why she was being held there. What was going on.

And Hermione told them everything.

Even though it was far from the right time, she told her best friends everything. She didn't go into details that she didn't feel were necessary at the time, but she tried to explain to them that she and Draco Malfoy had started a romantic relationship in their last year at Hogwarts. She tried to convey to them as concisely and as fully as she could her regrets, her unease, her fear of her own feelings. Her doubts at every step they took. How everything between them had gone well. She confessed to them that they had separated at the end of the school year. But that they had met again less than a year ago, without planning it beforehand, and that they had met again in secret, behind the world's back. How Draco had been the one to warn her of what was happening in Godric's Hollow, how she had helped him escape from Grimmauld Place, how he had entrusted her with Albus Dumbledore's location, and how he had told her that they were going to attempt to destroy the dome from the Divination Tower that very night. How he came to her rescue afterwards, murdering an entire squad of Death Eaters in cold blood, and confronting his own aunt. His family. How he had saved her life.

She told them all that, and all the other things that came to her as she went along. But nothing stopped Harry's face from darkening, and Ron, on the verge of a silent fit of despair, had started pacing frantically in front of them, unable to look at her.

Hermione had thought about that speech and had prepared and rehearsed it a thousand times since she began her relationship with Draco. She had practised a thousand times what she would say to her friends when she finally told them. And she had anticipated multiple reactions. But nothing could prepare her for the actual moment. Her voice wavered more than in her rehearsals, and she knew she had failed to convey either her feelings or her actions correctly. The young woman began to sob from sheer emotion halfway through the story.

Harry and Ron were about to interrupt her when she began the story, sceptical, discomposed and upset, but were restrained by the firm tone with which the girl continued without pause. And they had to keep silent and wait for her to finish. And when she finally did, they were unable to say anything.

Ron finally stopped pacing back and forth and stood a metre away from them, his back turned, choking back hasty sobs. As if they couldn't hear him at that distance. Harry had had to sit in the chair next to her. But he wouldn't look at her.

And Hermione couldn't believe it was really happening.

They should be celebrating victory, or mourning their dead. Not making their friendship hang by a thin thread.

The silence pressing against their eardrums was eerie.

"Say something," Hermione pleaded. Barely audible in the stillness. "Please, anything. But say something."

"What's your name?" Harry muttered then. Without opening his eyes. Without removing his hand from his forehead. Hermione turned her face to look at him. She couldn't understand the question.

"What?" she whispered. Breathlessly.

"Your full name. What's your name."

"Hermione Jean Granger," the girl muttered. In a steadier voice. Still not understanding.

"How did we meet?" Harry continued. Hermione felt her heart racing.

"On the train. First year. Going to the castle for the first time."

"What were the trials we went through together to get the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked again. And his voice was like a cold breeze. Hermione frowned. Breathing faster.

"Fluffy, the Devil's Snare, the flying keys, the Wizard's Chess, a mountain troll, the potion riddle," she listed in a neutral tone. Without looking away from his friend's face. Still lowered. Before he could say anything else, she added, "Harry, are you going to ask me everything we've been through so far...?"

"Yes," he spat. More grimly. "Because this isn't you, and I'm not going to stop until I know who you are. The Hermione I know would never have done what you've just told us. No one'd believe that kind of bullshit..."

"Harry, for God's sake, it's not β€”"

"How did you find out about the Basilisk in our second β€” ?"

"Harry, don't you β€”"

"The Basilisk. How did you know that β€” ?"

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted then, feeling her neck heat up. "Stop it! It's me! You know it's me!"

"No, I don't," Harry hissed, now pulling his forehead away from his hand and turning his head to look at her. His green eyes glared at her from behind his round, dirty glasses. "I assure you I don't know right now..."

"It's me, and I'm in my right mind, I guarantee you," the girl sputtered, heatedly.

"No, you're not," Harry insisted more determinedly, turning his whole body in her direction. "You're not at all. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Are you β€” ? Are you laughing at us? Do you expect us to believe β€” ?"

"How could I lie to you about something like β€” ?"

"Oh, I don't know, you tell me," Harry spat again, more emphatically. His anger was growing, as the situation sank in. The reality. "Apparently you've been doing it for years. You've been lying to us. Almost... almost four years. You've been with Draco Malfoy for four years," he seemed to need to say it out loud to make sure he understood. "And you haven't told us until now. It's insane..."

"I wanted to tell you," she said, firmly, trying to emphasise that detail. "I really wanted to tell you. You know me, you know that I would never have kept it from you if I could have found a way to tell you. But it was all so β€” we were at war, and I always felt it wasn't the right time. I felt that everything was too complicated to β€”"

"You wanted to tell us? Hermione, you've had four fucking years to tell us," he protested, not a hint of understanding in his normally kind voice. His green eyes were now wild with rage and disbelief. Ron's stumbling wheezes were still audible. "We saw each other every day. In class, in the Common Room... We've been at war for almost three years, fighting against his people. Against him. All this time β€” I can't. I can't understand... This is β€”" He let out a hoarse gasp, and whispered, more softly, "Why have you done this?"

And such a question squeezed Hermione's heart like a noose.

"I was afraid," Hermione whispered. Softly, but firmly. "Of this. Of this reaction. Of losing both of you. I knew it was impossible to understand. That, despite everything, you wouldn't understand..."

"Understand? We have to understand? Understand what, exactly? That you lied to us to β€” to meet Draco Malfoy, of all people? A horrible person who treated you like the worst scum in the world. You're telling us right to our faces that you pretended to hate him in front of us and then snuck off to β€”" He exhaled, frantic, unable to finish the sentence. Breathless. "That's not understandable. I don't think you're understanding it yourself. If you've really done this β€”"

"She's mental, Harry," came the murmur of Ron's strangled voice, like a painful verdict.

"I'm in my right mind, I assure you," Hermione protested, her voice firmer, if distressed. "And I can understand what you mean. But things have changed between us, that's all. We are human. We can change. No one knows better than he does everything he's done. And yet he's been on my side. He's helped us. He doesn't β€” he doesn't have these radical beliefs about purity of blood anymore..."

Harry let out an audible groan. As if he couldn't take it anymore.

"He's a Death Eater!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "In fact, he's a bloody Black Sergeant!" The girl didn't correct him, saying that he was, in fact, a General of the Shadows. "Hermione, wake up! I don't know what the hell he's been telling you to make you believe this whole sham, but of course he hasn't β€” !"

"Why is it a sham?" Hermione shrieked, standing up as well. "I can understand that you don't accept it, I really can, but why don't you believe it? Why can't you believe me when I tell you that he's on my side? That he loves me?"

"That he loves you? That he loves you?! It's Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, moved with despair. "Damn it, Hermione! How can you be so naΓ―ve? Stop believing that everyone has a good side, for fuck's sake! Someone like Malfoy can't change like that! He can't love someone like you! He's a bully, a terrible person...! He's mocked the death of my parents and Ron's family countless times! He's attacked us, he's made our lives miserable, you the first! He's humiliated and despised you for as long as he's known you! He wished β€” for God's sake β€” when the Basilisk started attacking Muggle-borns he wished it would kill you, like it killed Myrtle! He wished you dead, Hermione! How can you think that he loves you...? He can't do it, he doesn't know how to do it... At what point have you forgotten everything he's done to us...?"

Hermione could barely breathe. Her face felt hot and her hands were trembling.

"I've lived through it all. I haven't forgotten anything," she said, no longer shouting. "But our relationship has changed. I've explained it to the best of my ability, and I'm not going to justify it any more. I'm just trying to explain the reality. Because I want you to know. I apologise for keeping it from you for so long, I regret it every day. It's the only thing I regret."

"And she comes with that attitude," Ron mumbled suddenly, turning around. His freckled face was flushed and his eyes were swollen. But he looked angry, not sad. "Always with your chin up, right? You always do the right thing... If you don't care about our opinion, what the fuck are you telling us for?"

Hermione looked him in the eye. Fixedly. For several seconds. And felt her own eyes mist over with pain.

'Just... just in case...'

She was hurting him. She was hurting him very, very badly. Especially him. She knew it. But there was nothing else she could do. And she felt like the worst person in the world. It had gotten out of hand. And there was no solution.

"Because I feel like I can do it now," Hermione murmured, still holding his gaze. "Because I want to be with him. Be with him for real. I don't know how, I don't know if we can, but I'm going to try to be with him. And I don't want to do it behind your backs. I never wanted to do it behind your backs..." she tried to say, but Ron's angry snort told her that such a sentence was worthless. "It was dangerous. Being together was dangerous. I have no doubt that you understand the implications of all this, especially in his circle β€”"

"Stop β€” !" Ron shouted then, holding up both hands, fingers twitching. "Stop talking as if you're really together! It's ridiculous!"

"We are," Hermione hissed through her teeth. "We have been for a long time. And I made the mistake of hiding it from you for too long. But now the war is over, and β€” I don't want to hide it any more. I can't."

"And what did you think was going to happen by telling us now?" Ron shouted then, in one breath. "That we'd congratulate you guys on your relationship, and give you our blessing? That it'd all be just a fucking insignificant anecdote...? That we'd celebrate you lying to us for years? To us and the whole bloody Order?" he shouted louder. "You betrayed us all! You've been seeing a Death Eater! You let him escape from Grimmauld Place! A fucking Black Sergeant, Hermione...! Malfoy!"

"We weren't seeing each other to pass information of any kind," Hermione clarified again. Categorical. "I have not been seeing an enemy for that purpose. Not at all. We just wanted to be together. The only time I betrayed you all was the night we lost the schools. I had to pass him information to save his life. And he, in return, told me about Nurmengard... We rescued Professor Dumbledore because of him."

"I doubt very much that the Order will believe that rubbish," Ron barked. "They'll think you're a traitor."

There was silence. Harry bit his lip and looked away, as if he needed a second to compose himself. He ran his hand through his hair, tousling it. There was a bit of ash that coloured it grey in places.

"We're not going to tell the Order anything," he said, coldly. "We won't tell them what happened at Grimmauld Place. No one needs to know about it."

"I'm going to tell them," Hermione said instead, coolly. Harry looked at her incredulously.

"No, Hermione. Don't even think about it. You'll face a court martial," Harry said firmly. "You let a prisoner escape. You told him about our mission. That's extremely serious."

"I know. And I'll take the consequences. I did it all of my own free will. And I would do it again," she assured him, forcefully. Undeterred. "I've spoken to Remus and asked him to let me see Draco now. I've told him part of it, though he doesn't know everything that's happened between Draco and me. But I'll have to tell everything sooner or later. I'll testify for him in whatever trials it takes, and I'm going to tell the truth. And I don't care. I don't want to lie anymore. I don't want to hide anything. I'll accept any punishment."

Ron let out an incredulous exclamation, raising his hands to the sky and dropping them to the sides of his hips in despair. He opened and closed his mouth, apparently trying to assimilate the girl's, to him, inconceivable justifications.

"This is unbelievable. You've been completely brainwashed by that bastard. You're willing to β€” you're going to throw your life away for him. How could you β€”" Ron had reached a point where he seemed to be having trouble enunciating, "β€” how could you believe that prat? How could you have fallen for his lies all this time...?"

"Ron, stop it," the girl demanded with cold indignation. "He hasn't lied to me. He hasn't lied to me about anything. I'm telling you, he's never used me to get information," she remarked, decisively. "What would he want me for, if not for that, according to you? My relationship with Draco is β€”"

"Relationship! Relationship..." Ron looked like he was about to explode. He looked at Harry in disbelief and despair as he pointed at the girl, "Harry, she's mental...! She's not well!" He pulled his wand from his thigh holster, shaking his head. "I'm going to find out what the hell β€” !"

"Don't you dare cast a single counter-spell at me, Ronald!" the girl shouted, pointing a finger at him. "I'm thinking clearly! And this whole discussion is out of place! I didn't tell you this so you'd question my decisions! I'm sorry, but I love him. And you can't change that. Time will be the judge of us, not you."

Ron let out an angry snort. Shaking from head to toe. He didn't raise his wand.

"Of course, you're making it quite clear. You're pretty clear on your priorities."

"There are no priorities. He's not above you," the girl sputtered, her strength gone. "My only mistake was keeping it from you. And I'm so sorry," her voice broke. "I just wanted to be honest once and for all and say I'm sorry. I wanted to make it all right. I wanted to stop lying. Lying to you. You're β€”" she let out an uncontrollable sob, "you're my best friends. You're my family. And I hoped you'd understand." She looked at Ron. And he could barely hold her gaze. 'Just... just in case...'. "Ron, I'm so... sorry," she emphasised, in a much quieter voice. "I'm really, really sorry."

Ron was still shaking. But he managed to hold the girl's gaze even though his face was flushing red with the sobs he was now refusing to let out. He couldn't control the shudders in his chest. Harry, from his position, watched them both out of the corner of his eye. Silently. Blinking cautiously. Sensing that there was a detail he was missing.

"I don't think you're truly sorry," Ron hissed in a rushed manner. Harshly.

"Ron..." Hermione mumbled, her voice trembling.

"No, shut up. Just β€” shut up already," he spat, turning his back on her.

Hermione could only shiver. She blinked the tears away from her eyes. Some disappeared. Others rolled down her cheeks. She looked at Harry, and saw him rubbing his eyes under his glasses, his other hand on his hip. And Hermione didn't know if he was crying or not. And the girl reminisced about the arguments they'd had when they were younger. In each one her younger self thought their friendship was over. And she suffered through each one. If only she'd known it was going to end like this...

"Hermione..." a hoarse voice interrupted from the doorway.

The young woman turned her head, startled but almost relieved that something was distracting her from the horrible situation she had gotten herself into. Harry and Ron looked up as well. None of the three of them, engrossed in the discussion, had heard the door open.

Remus watched her from the doorway, a few paces away. He looked exhausted, with an ashen face, messy hair, and dark furrows decorating the lower part of his kindly eyes. He surveyed the scene with discretion, passing his intelligent eyes from one to the other.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" he muttered, cautiously. Hermione, unable to articulate, forced herself to shake her head, though the real answer was evidently the opposite. "You can see the boy," the man reported, gesturing behind him with a nod of his head, shaking his tousled grey-veined hair. "They'll be here to take him away soon, but we've managed β€” you can see him for a few minutes. But it has to be now."

Hermione turned fully towards him, her mouth half-open. And felt her heart being squeezed, taking in the exciting but terribly inopportune news. There was the strangled sound Ron made.

"This is... unbelievable," he mumbled. Choking on the words as he spoke. The girl was proudly silent, not looking at him, and he slapped his hands against his hips again. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Go see that son of a bitch..." Hermione glared her burning eyes at him. Ron gave her an angry glare and waved his hand towards the door, "Get out of here, don't even think twice about it! COME ON!"

Hermione stared at him, hurt, unable to say anything. She wiped her tears on her dirty jacket as Ron's back was turned. Harry seemed to take a few seconds before he had anything to say. He looked tired. Very tired. He looked away from Lupin to her. And he didn't seem to find the strength to be reproachful. He just gave her a wary look. Hesitant. Still a little out of place. As if he was afraid of her.

Hermione saw him catch his breath and turn his lips into a thin line. He looked too tired from that war to fight another battle against her.

"Leave," he said, not giving his voice any special tone. "We'll... talk later."

Hermione clenched her teeth. She managed to bite her lip to keep it from trembling and gave a brief nod of her head. She looked at Ron, but he didn't seem to be able to speak to her. His back was still turned to her. The young woman lifted her chin a little higher, and walked towards the door, towards Lupin. Trying to leave her heart inside McGonagall's office, unable to face what was waiting for her on the other side of the door, with the fight against her friends still dancing in her chest.

"They didn't know either?" Remus muttered, only to her, as they closed the door behind them. Hermione, her throat still tight, could only shake her head.

Remus said nothing, and they began to walk in silence. Their walk took them to the top of the Marble Staircase. From there they could see the whole of the Entrance Hall. Or what was left of it. It was rather hectic. A group of wizards were busy rebuilding the walls with their wands, making all sorts of debris fly back to where it came from. The dragon, in its pursuit of Harry, had practically destroyed the lower floor. Everything above their heads seemed to magically stay in place. Literally.

Hermione could see inside the Great Hall from her position, thanks to the huge, half-collapsed opening that the double doors had become. They were both on the floor, over and under rubble. Inside, the girl saw a gaping hole in the floor that had not yet been covered. There were many people working on it. She saw the huge Grawp removing some stones of considerable size.

By the double doors leading to the grounds was one of the centaurs, his back bleeding, receiving medical attention from a St Mungo's mediwizard. It could not climb stairs, and Hermione was sure it would not accept the help of a wizard to do so. The centaurs had been among the first to leave once the battle was over. They did not stay to enjoy the peace with the wizards. They simply left, without saying goodbye to anyone, back to the Forbidden Forest, to their home. A while ago, Dumbledore had gone into the forest by himself, probably to talk to them and thank them for their help.

Out of the corner of her eye, still looking at the Great Hall, Hermione saw a large shadow at the bottom of the stairs that caught her gaze. Hagrid was coming out of a side corridor leading to the basement, and he was surrounded by tiny, helpful house-elves who were talking to him incessantly. Hermione smiled, unable to contain herself. He was fine. And she was sure that the Imperius Curse had been removed by now. Hagrid didn't see her, but the sight of him standing there, alive, lightened the weight in her heart. They would have plenty of time to talk about everything later.

They continued down the corridor on the first floor and passed some passageways. Hermione saw some people waving their wands in the dark corners. Aurors from the Ministry. She didn't know them, but she could tell by the freshness of their looks and their clean robes. They hadn't been there fighting all night, or they wouldn't look like that. They were removing all the possible spells and curses that both sides had placed throughout the castle. The terrible shadows that devoured anyone who came near them were disappearing.

They approached the Hospital again. There were some mediwizards pacing back and forth, with the distinctive symbol of a wand crossed with a bone embroidered on their robes. They must have come from St Mungo's. And that was fortunate, because there was no way Fleur, and surely Augustus Pye, Miriam Strout and Hannah, could have cared for the hundreds of wounded that would have been left behind that night.

Professor Lupin led Hermione up the stairs to the upper floor. They passed some people going up and down, hurriedly, looking for people, repairing damage. Hermione's legs felt heavy, even though she hadn't known how long she had been sitting in Minerva's office. All of her felt heavy.

"Remus," Hermione muttered then, gazing at him sidelong, "'Nott β€” is Theodore Nott all right? The werewolf you protected me from on the tower stairs?"

Remus didn't turn his head to look at her as they ascended. And Hermione didn't know if she should be worried or reassured that he was so quiet. He hadn't asked her anything else, despite Hermione's complex confession. He hadn't really accused her or reproached her for anything. He had been concerned about the situation, but not censorious. He had made it clear to the girl that she hadn't done things right. He had made it clear to her that what she had done had been a betrayal. But he hadn't reacted nearly the way Harry and Ron had.

Nor did he look at her any differently, no matter how much the young woman searched his eyes for any hint of rejection. He simply looked tired.

"He's alive," the man revealed, still climbing the steps. "I was a bit aggressive with him. He forced me to be. I realised he hadn't undergone the transformation many times. He was more savage than it is normal to be. The infection overpowered him too much. I think he was scared. I managed to get him off the stairs and kept him at bay, hurting him a bit, until we both regained human form with the coming of dawn. He was... horrified when he came back to being himself," he added in a heartbreakingly gentle voice. As if he was seeing himself, recalling his first transformations, in that boy. "I had to take him into custody, but I was able to get him examined," he said more firmly, and scratched the stubble that decorated his cheeks. "His injuries are not serious. Lycanthropy aside, he's fine. He just needs rest."

Hermione said nothing. Her heart lightened at the fact that Nott was alive, and relatively safe and sound. But her throat tightened at the thought of what it would have been like to be himself again. The taste of blood that wasn't his own in his mouth. Her heart was breaking at the thought of what the boy would be going through now. She knew that lycanthropes could remember everything they had done during their transformation. And she didn't know how Theodore could deal with something like that.

"He's a good person," Hermione felt the need to say. She couldn't keep quiet any longer. "He didn't mean to hurt anyone, I'm sure of it. He wasn't a loyal servant of Voldemort, he wasn't by his side out of conviction. Draco told me. He and Draco β€”"

"Hermione," Lupin interrupted her gently, as they reached the second-floor corridor and walked down it, "they're both Death Eaters. They have the Dark Mark on their arm, and they fought on the Dark Lord's side tonight. You have to understand that they are in custody. And your word against that fact is not going to get them released tonight. But there will be trials. The truth will come out, you can be sure."

"Facts are not always reality," the young woman protested, firmly. "And I have my doubts that the Ministry is impartial. We've won the war, and that means we can do with them as we β€”"

"Hermione," the man repeated, not losing his patience, "don't beat yourself up now. You're tired. Tired and upset, just like everyone else. It'll all be cleared up and justice will be done, you'll see."

"When? How long can it be before the trials are held? How long will they have to be in Azkaban, guarded by the Dementors, until they are given a chance to defend themselves?" Hermione spat, her voice trembling with rage.

Remus didn't blink.

"I don't know. But you'll agree with me that right now there are things that take priority over the quality of life of the enemy side that actually started this war."

The girl had to swallow. Her eyes watering.

Rebuilding the castle. Saving the wounded. Moving and burying hundreds of corpses. Informing and reassuring wizarding society. Bringing the rescued students back to their families. Search for all of Lord Voldemort's hideouts. Free all his prisoners, scattered across the country in hidden places. Locate and capture all enemies who had fled. Go to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang in order to eliminate all traces of the enemy and regain control of the schools again. Talk to the rest of the European Ministries...

Hermione loved Draco. And he was a priority for her. But she couldn't close her eyes to reality, or allow her feelings to blind her. She could understand that seeking justice for his fate was not a priority for anyone else.

"Of course," she whispered, her voice unsteady, "but β€”"

"It's here," Remus interrupted her then, stopping in front of a door on the second floor. The one that corresponded to an empty, rarely used classroom, as far as Hermione could remember. The girl looked uneasy. Not knowing what she was going to find there.

"Are all the Death Eaters β€” ?"

"No, just him," Lupin replied, taking a few steps towards the door. "Minerva has arranged for him to be moved here for a few minutes under the guise of an interrogation so that you two can talk alone. He will be taken away when the Aurors from the Ministry come to get the prisoners. No one else must know that we've allowed you to talk."

Hermione let out an anguished sigh. All her exacerbation, and fighting spirit, slowing. Regretting that she was taking out her frustrations on Remus. He was doing more for them than he should. And Hermione didn't even fully understand why he was doing it.

"Of course," the girl whispered. "I won't involve you or Professor McGonagall, I promise. Thank you β€” thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing this for me. For us. Why... why are you doing it?" she couldn't help but ask, in a rush. "If you don't believe Draco is innocent, why are you doing it?"

Remus looked into her eyes for the first time. With tired eyes. Even more than Harry's.

"Because we're all human, Hermione. Death Eaters, and us. And being in love with an enemy doesn't automatically make you a traitor. You've β€” committed some offences that need to be investigated, of course..."

"Do you believe me when I say that Draco is innocent?" she insisted. Needing to hear it. But Remus merely raised his eyebrows.

"I have no idea if he is or not, Hermione. But I spent twelve years believing that Sirius was to blame for the Potters' deaths. And believing in Peter's innocence. I've learned my lesson, and things aren't always what they seem. I have been your professor. I have fought by your side. You kept the dome in place tonight. You are an exceptional woman. I have always trusted you, and your judgement. And if you say Draco Malfoy is innocent, the least I can do is give you the benefit of the doubt. If he is innocent," he looked back at the closed door, his expression serene, "what less than giving you a few minutes to say goodbye."

Hermione's jaw trembled. Her eyes were filled with tears.

"Thank you..." was all she managed to articulate, voicelessly.

"I need you to give me your wand, though, Hermione, please," he demanded firmly. The girl hesitated for a moment, but resigned herself to the fact that she had no right to protest. She reached slowly to the holster still clutched to her thigh and handed him her long wand. "And the handbag, if you don't mind," he then asked politely. The girl hesitated for the tiniest of moments, but ended up taking off her cloak and the handbag beneath it. "I'll give it back to you later, I promise. It's just a precaution, you understand," he said, then opened the door and stepped into the room.

It was an abandoned classroom, small in size, with desks stacked and pushed up against the walls. A single window illuminated it with a faint orange light from the dawn. The blackboard at the back was badly erased, so that some unintelligible words written in chalk were still visible. In the background, there was a lone chair in front of the teacher's desk, in which sat a dejected Draco Malfoy. Hunched over, his elbows rested on his knees. He was being guarded by two wizards. One was tall, grey-haired, pulled back in a low ponytail, and leaned on the edge of the professor's desk, wand in hand. The other walked with slow steps in front of the chair. He was of medium height and rather stouter, and was fanning himself with a book he had found on a shelf. They were members of the Order. They both looked up to stare at the newcomers, but Malfoy didn't move.

Remus stepped aside as they entered the room, so that the young woman could enter behind him, while he held the door for her.

"Where is Minerva McGonagall?" asked the man with the ponytail. His stern eyes were fixed on Hermione. They were grey, the same colour as his hair.

"She's had other business to attend to," Remus said matter-of-factly. Calmly. "Hermione will handle the Black Sergeant's interrogation. It will be brief. Is he unarmed?"

"He is," the grey-haired man replied again. He had a deep voice that didn't quite match his thinness. "He hasn't tried anything."

"All right. Williamson, Savage, will you join me outside?" Remus asked. They seemed to hesitate in spite of themselves, but finally gave in and walked over. The stout man looked Hermione up and down as he passed by her. He looked a little quizzical. The other didn't even blink at her.

When the door had closed behind the three men, Hermione turned to look at Draco. He had apparently heard the girl's name being called, because he was sitting up straighter now. And staring at her.

Hermione swallowed back the tears that were struggling to come out of her eyes. She had cried enough. She dropped the cloak she still held in her hand on a random desk and strode in his direction. Draco stood up at the same time. Then Hermione saw that his hands were bound, his wrists wrapped in a thin beam of light that flickered. A spell that simulated handcuffs, as an extreme precaution, it seemed, despite being unarmed and guarded.

Though he could not, she hugged him tightly. She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms firmly around his neck, burying herself in his throat and pulling him tightly against her own in the same way. She noticed that he, unable to raise his hands, as they were stuck between their bodies, wrapped his left hand around the front of her jacket in a firm fist. Needing to hold her somewhere. The boy's skin and clothes smelled so much like burning. Smoke and ash. And Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Feeling, for the first time in hours, in the right place. In a place that did feel right. In a refuge. In his arms. She hadn't realised until that moment how much she was needing to feel protected. Just for a moment.

"How did you manage to β€” ?" she heard him growl, against her skin.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured, her mouth pressed to his clothes. She caught herself gasping, her chest heaving rhythmically against him. Unable to breathe. "Are you all right?"

She felt him nod reluctantly, inside her arms. And Hermione pulled away from him then, loosening her grip. Moving on to using her hands for something more useful. She caressed his face, automatically, just for a moment, then concentrated her sense of touch and her sight on examining his entire body. Looking for wounds. Curses. Anything at all.

She ran her hands down his arms and discovered that his sleeve was torn. The fabric burned. And his forearm skin, too. She inhaled in surprise.

"My God," Hermione stammered, grabbing him by the elbows and forcing him to sit up again. She knelt down in front of him, and it was then that she noticed that his trousers were torn at his left calf as well. Leaving another, much larger burn visible. "My God, you've been like this for hours... Haven't they healed you? But how β€” ?" the young woman sounded hoarse. She almost sounded as if she might burst into tears of frustration.

Draco plucked up the courage to let out a weak snort through his nose. A listless laugh.

"Enemies aren't worth healing," he said, mumbling. As he spoke, he watched the girl, examining her body closely with his eyes alone, unable to use his tied hands. Making sure she was safe and sound.

"That's inhumane," Hermione articulated, quickly unbuttoning the button of his dirty shirt sleeve, and folding the fabric up to his elbow. There were several yellowish blisters above the bright red welts that covered his white skin. The contrast was chilling. Fortunately, they did not appear to be serious. But they must have been hurting like hell.

Draco clicked his tongue. Impatiently.

"Granger, leave it..."

"Shut up," she spat unceremoniously. Then looked him full in the eye, "Have they noticed that you have these wounds?"

Draco considered the question and shook his head.

"They're not visible with the clothes if you don't look for them, and I've only been searched for wand and dark artefacts..."

At that, Hermione said nothing. But she did quickly roll up the sleeves of her own jacket. Then, she brought a hand to her calf and lifted the bottom of her trousers to pull a short wand from inside her tall sock. Draco arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"And that wand?" the boy murmured, quizzical. Hermione answered, not looking him in the eye. Concentrating on her task.

"It's my spare wand. I always carried it in my beaded handbag. But I figured it would be taken from me at some point, so I hid it a while ago..."

Draco puffed through his nose briefly and the corner of his mouth lifted, but he said nothing more. He just stared at her face as she ran the tip of her wand over his skin in short, slow strokes. And then tapping the skin around the burn. He could see in her frown that she missed having some potions on hand.

Draco's face contorted, closing his eyes tightly. Stopping looking at her, in spite of himself. He clenched his jaws, and dug his nails into his palm. But he didn't make a sound. After a few seconds, the boy's skin looked much better. Like a minor burn of several days. The girl, after looking at her work with lips pursed in discontent, resigned herself to concentrate her efforts on the burn on his leg. Repeating the same wand movements. That wound took a few more precious seconds to heal.

She reached out a trembling hand, stroking the newly healed, sensitive skin. Draco shuddered, but said nothing. Hermione looked up. She swallowed and pointed her wand at her own hand. A simple glass cup appeared, and was soon filled with crystal clear water. Draco's expression turned longing for a split second. The girl straightened up, no longer sitting on her ankles, and brought the glass to his lips with one hand, cupping his face with the other. He instinctively raised his manacled hands, resting them on the glass as well. He drank greedily, finishing it in a few gulps. Without a word, Hermione filled it a second time and offered it back to the young man, who promptly drank it again. He let out a grateful gasp as he finished, his eyes closed. Hermione, still looking frustrated and upset at how much they had neglected the boy's health, wiped the drop of water glistening on his lower lip with her thumb in a quick gesture.

"Am I being taken to Azkaban?"

The girl, who was busy vanishing the glass again, looked back into his eyes. His were just staring at her intently. Demanding the truth. Though she was sure he already knew it. Perhaps a part of him was hoping to hear otherwise.

Hermione nodded her head, barely perceptibly. Watching him apprehensively at his reaction. And she was aware of his breathing changing to a shuddering breath. Though his face remained effectively unperturbed. As if the news shouldn't surprise him, really. And Hermione wondered why he was holding back in front of her.

She put her wand back in her calf. Then she crawled a little closer, kneeling between his spread legs, and held his arms.

"Just until the trial. After that it will be all right. You'll be acquitted," she assured him, holding his gaze intently, trying to keep him from looking away. Draco snorted, listlessly.

"Don't be silly," he mumbled, turning his face to the side. But Hermione put her hand on his cheek, stubbornly turning his face forward. Towards her.

"Draco, you'll be acquitted. I promise," she insisted, firmly.

"Don't promise me something like that," he replied, curtly, anger flashing in his eyes. "Don't lie to me. I know my situation. I don't know if they've figured it out yet, but I'm a General of the Shadows. And they know I was a Black Sergeant. I'm not getting out of this."

"And you helped me tonight," Hermione insisted, stubbornly, not letting go of his face. "You helped us win. It's unfair that it doesn't mean anything. Right now they don't β€” they don't believe me. It's complicated... But I'll get them to understand. Let the truth be known. You're innocent..."

"I'm not innocent," he corrected, shaking his head slightly, still looking at her. "I have fought on the opposite side of this war for years. And I've done what I was meant to do in that position. I've done what other Death Eaters have done."

Hermione gave herself a moment to breathe. It was the same thing McGonagall had told her.

"What about Godric's Hollow?" she protested, her face tightening. "And what about Nurmengard? You told me where Professor Dumbledore was. And about the dome, tonight. You stood up to your own people, saved me from your aunt. I'll testify on your behalf, and β€” and β€”"

"You'll do no such thing," he replied, bluntly. Hermione looked him in the eye. Her heart pounding.

"Why?" she questioned, peacefully, quietly.

"Because you can't β€”" he fell silent, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Or how to say what was going through his head.

"β€” tell that we're together?" the girl finished. And the despondency that filled her voice clenched Draco's insides. Yes, that was just what he was thinking. The same old refrain. The same old obstacles. They couldn't tell. It was so indisputable that he no longer bothered to reason it out. They couldn't, full stop. They couldn't... They couldn't?

What would happen if they told?

He was no longer in the service of the Dark Lord. He was a free man again in that sense. His life, as such, was no longer at risk per se. And that, in truth, played down the importance of any other inconvenience they had to deal with. But his reputation... They would become the focus of attention. Of his circle and hers. Each for their own reasons. Everything would change. Everything would explode. They'd have to deal with a hundred things. Accusations. Rejection. Abandonment.

But weren't they going to have to go through it at some point?

Or were they never going to be together?

And that question took Draco's breath away. To the point where he felt goosebumps rise on his skin.

How could he not be with her?

"Would you tell?" he asked in a controlled voice. Eyes fixed on her jaw. Unable to look her in the eye. But needing to know how she felt about it. And then he felt the girl clasp his hands in hers. He watched her touch for a moment and then her eyes. In time to see her nod. Without blinking.

"It's the only way to testify on your behalf. With the whole truth," the girl reasoned. Stroking his hands with her thumbs. Though Draco only noticed it on his left. "And yes, either way, I would do it. Without a moment's hesitation. I'm not afraid at this point of what might happen."

"Even if you did," Draco hissed, reluctantly, articulating slowly. Trying not to make his opinion clear just yet. "Your testimony wouldn't be enough to get me out of β€”"

"I won't be the only one. Samantha will testify on your behalf too, I'm sure," Hermione insisted, impetuous. "And so will the twins..."

"What twins?" Draco mumbled, frowning.

"The Weasleys. Ron's brothers. Fred and George," she explained. "They were up in the Divination Tower."

"The fireworks," Draco muttered, suddenly remembering it. He remembered everything that had happened in the Divination Tower as if it were a confused, rushed dream. Disjointed images. Screams. Smoke. Hot as hell.

"Fred-N-George's Pyrotechtrix Compendium," Hermione corroborated, smiling cautiously. "Exactly. They fought Bellatrix to get us out... They saw you with me, I'm sure β€”"

"I didn't see anyone," Draco replied more quietly. "I was outside. I was almost on the roof. I doubt they saw me if they were inside... And even if they had seen me there, they wouldn't tell, Granger, accept that," he added, with a scornful smile.

Hermione seemed to find that difficult to accept. Draco saw her shoulders slump slightly. Her hands in his, loosening. A frantic blink, a quick glance around, lost in thought, regaining her composure, and she looked back up at him. Still determined.

"Well, it'll be Samantha and me," she concluded, her tone resolute, louder. "And that'll be enough. Perhaps β€” Professor McGonagall has helped me to meet you now. She knows a lot about us, maybe she'll β€”"

"Why would she get into β€” ?"

"Draco, please," she interrupted him then, her tone desperate. Looking at him now with genuine, angry pleading. "I can do it, but don't make me fight this all by myself."

The boy was silent, holding her gaze. Vaguely amazed that she still had the strength left to fight. He blinked regretfully.

"Snape told me about the dome," he murmured, his voice distant. "And he knew about us. I'll tell you some other time, but he knew since we were at Hogwarts. Maybe he'll agree to β€” I don't know."

It took Hermione a moment for the news to sink in. But she pulled herself together, with no time to ask any more questions about it. The spontaneous 'I'll tell you some other time' expression made her blood run faster in her veins. This was not going to be the last time she would see him...

"I'll look for him," she assured him, her tone efficient. Satisfied that he'd agreed not to make any more objections. Or so she thought, until Draco let out a deep, frustrated sigh again. Apparently unable to contain himself.

"But it's not a good idea," he muttered, between his teeth. Eyes closed. As if that way she couldn't interrupt him. "And I'm not going to pretend that I think it is. You can't testify on my behalf. This is the worst way to give away what's between us. Listen to me, I'm the first one who'd be willing to do anything to stay out of that hole, but this... I don't want to get out of this at the cost of screwing up your life. People β€”"

"β€” already know," the girl interrupted, her voice faltering. Draco looked at her instantly. Silent. Waiting for her to say more. Because he was sure he hadn't understood her. "I've gone ahead. Harry and Ron know. I've told them everything."

"What do you mean, you told them?" Draco repeated, without blinking. He was sure he still didn't understand. But Hermione was looking at him seriously. Bitterly.

"I told them everything. All about us. Everything that happened. A β€” a few minutes ago. They know everything."

Draco couldn't say a word for several seconds. In fact, he couldn't close his mouth. Hermione wasn't looking at him now. Her eyes fixed on the centre of his chest. As if she was waiting for his protests.

"What did they say?" he wanted to know, quietly. And Hermione hadn't expected that question. She took a breath, and when she spoke, she tried to be firm. In control of the situation.

"We haven't... finished the conversation."

"Why did you do this?" he muttered next. And that Hermione did expect. But she hadn't expected his tone to be almost impassive. No fury. The girl blinked and pursed her lips before speaking. Igniting.

"I'm sorry," she hissed, determinedly. "I know I should have consulted with you before I did it, but I needed β€”"

"No," he interrupted, more gravely, "why did you do this? They won't accept it, and you're going to β€” I can't be with you now," he added, raising his handcuffed hands. "I don't want you to lose them. I don't want you to be alone." He let out a soft, frustrated exhale. "Don't choose me. Not now. It's not convenient for you."

Hermione let the corners of her mouth lift. A quick smile that didn't overshadow the sadness in her eyes.

"Draco, I don't care if it's not convenient for me. I'm sick of hiding the truth. Of lying as if I'm doing something wrong by loving you. And anyone who doesn't accept that can go β€” God, to hell. It's my decision." She let out a deep sigh. Tightening her hands around his arms again. "I'm going to tell everything. I'm going to tell everyone. I'm going to tell the Order that it was me who freed you from our headquarters, and why I did it, because I'm going to tell it at the trial..."

"Don't even think about it," Draco spat, adamant, more severe. "You're going to face a court martial. You can't do this."

But Hermione shook her head at that argument. Little impressed. It was the same thing Harry had already told her. And she already knew it.

"I know, and I don't care. I'll pay for my betrayal. It's what I deserve," she admitted, unperturbed. "I have to be consistent with what I've done."

"Granger, save your bloody sense of duty for another time when you're not putting it all on the line..."

"Draco, if your only concern is really how this is going to affect me, I'm going to do it no matter what you say," she said. Her eyes glazed over. Draco clicked his tongue.

"I'm going to prison, Granger. Nothing that happens outside can affect me in there. The one who's going to have to fight alone is going to be you. I won't be able to do anything."

She gave a quick smile, and squeezed his arms tighter. Lowering her gaze to his lap.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Now is when I'm really fine. Shouting to the world that I'm with you. And, when you get out, we'll fight together. We're pretty good at it."

With those words, she managed to silence Draco. After several seconds of silence, she heard him sigh slowly above her head. And she had never heard him sigh in surrender before, but she was able to identify it. She noticed then that the boy raised his handcuffed hands to push her chin up. Lifting her face. And holding it there as he kissed her. Static. Pressing his mouth against hers. Then kissing the corner of her mouth, and finally her forehead. Hermione smiled weakly and leaned down to nestle her face into his chest. Wanting to hug him again. But Draco moved his hands between them, blocking her gesture.

"Wait..." he murmured. And he raised his manacled arms, raising them above the girl's head. Managing to leave her inside them. Holding her in a better embrace. Hermione smiled, seeing herself trapped between them. And then she did rest her face against his chest. Closing her eyes. Feeling his cuffed hands pressing against her back.

"You're the most stubborn woman in the world," Draco growled then, over her head. His voice reverberated in his chest, under her ear. "So much so that you can even accomplish what you're saying." He pressed her against his chest with his hands. Then he changed the subject, "Are you sure you are all right? Are you injured? Have you been examined?"

Hermione realised he was referring to what had happened in the tower. The battle against Bellatrix that she herself had just alluded to. She nodded, hoping he would notice. But then she had to close her eyes tighter. Feeling them blur with tears. Anguish gripping her throat. Now she was remembering what had happened.

"My God, Draco, I can't believe that what I remember is real," she managed to stammer against his clothes. Disheartened. "I attacked you. I could have β€”"

He managed a half-smile that she didn't see and shook his head, playing it down. Still, he specified with a hint of mockery, "More specifically, you cast a Killing Curse on me, a Cruciatus Curse, and set fire to an entire tower all by yourself..." His tone had been soft and teasing, but he instantly felt the girl press herself tighter against him, almost trembling. And he pulled her closer with his cuffed hands, wanting to reassure her. Speaking slowly now, he said, "Don't be silly, you were under the Imperius Curse. You're not to blame for anything. Forget the whole thing."

He felt her back rise and fall to the rhythm of her nervous, shaky breathing. He wondered if she'd been given any Calming Draught. And if she would have been able to get any sleep. He doubted it very much.

"I could hear you," he heard her say then, still pressed against his chest. In a slightly firmer voice. "I could hear what you were shouting at me, but I couldn't think. Nothing made sense. Inside me β€” I felt like I had to destroy the dome. That you were an obstacle and only the dome mattered. It's β€” it's very difficult to explain. It sounds ridiculous."

"That's how the Imperius Curse works," Draco muttered in return. Hardly giving it a thought. Focusing his lethargic mind, really, on how to adjust his manacled hands at the wrists to better embrace the girl. "In the end you managed to resist..."

"I could hear your voice," she repeated, trying to express herself coherently. "I could see you, but... I couldn't see you, you know? It was confusing. Like a dream." He nodded languidly, thinking he understood her. "But I heard what you said about the Patronus, about the greenhouse," she added without changing her tone. And Draco stood very still, forgetting his mental schemes to hug her better. Feeling his neck warm. He'd forgotten about that. "Then I struggled to understand who you were. What you were telling me. And I felt I wanted to come back to you. That it made sense. At times I felt like I was being silly and that actually, if I tried hard enough, I could control my body. I could get out of that dream. I don't know how to explain it better. It was very confusing."

Draco was silent for a moment. And he had to make an effort to hold back a deep sigh.

"You're an amazing witch, Granger," he muttered, not quite sure if he wanted her to hear him or not. He felt her press herself tighter against him. Nestling her face into his chest better, and rubbing it gently against his robes, showing that she had heard him. But she said nothing about it.

'You were my stupid happy memory. It could only be you.'

"Why didn't you leave?" she muttered. And she had to add, at Draco's confused silence, "The tower. You didn't leave. It was all on fire, and you β€” you should have left," she stammered, almost accusingly.

And Draco found himself pondering for an answer. Though it was clear to him. And yet, when it came to answer, he didn't know what to say.

"Where was I going to go?" he heard himself say. With barely a voice.

"Anywhere. You could have died," Hermione reported, still against his chest. Sternly. And Draco resigned himself to an earful from Hermione Granger for not leaving her to die alone in a burning tower.

"I'm not easy to kill, Granger," he mumbled smugly. Stroking her back with his cuffed wrists. And Hermione pressed her fingers against his sides in silent reprimand. In protest at his vanity. But then she closed her fists around his clothes. Tugging at him lightly.

"And you jumped into the void," Hermione whispered then, her mouth pressed to his chest. "I told you to jump, and... you just did it. You jumped," she repeated, breathless, as if it was unbelievable. Draco blinked, furrowing his brows in surprise. Taking in that reality. He hadn't bothered to remember it. It didn't seem to him that it could be real. But it had really happened, apparently.

He'd jumped off the Divination Tower just because she'd told him to...

"I did it," he corroborated, not wanting to dwell on it. Without a voice. He felt Hermione let out a choked laugh. Incredulous. Shocked. As if she couldn't believe he'd done it. He couldn't believe it either. And he needed to change the subject, at least in part, "How did we survive? How did you do it?"

"I cast a Banishing Charm to throw us far away," the girl agreed to explain, sounding confident. To his relief. "So we wouldn't fall onto the cliffs below. I wanted to get us closer to the centre of the lake, it seemed safer. But, of course, we were going to fall too fast. So I cast a Slowing Charm on myself, and, once I could aim properly, I did the same for you. I think you still fell too fast, I'm sorry, I didn't have much time to β€”"

"That's my girl," Draco muttered instead, over her head. Interrupting her. Making her smile. But he added, not giving her time to say anything in response, "And what about... everything else? The battle? The other Death Eaters have told things, but I don't know what's true. The Dark Lord...?"

"Harry killed him. With the dragon's help. It's a long story," she added, realising that they didn't have time to explain all the details. He raised his eyebrows fleetingly in surprise. "It devoured him..."

"Devoured?" Draco repeated without being able to help himself. Finding such an ending almost grotesque for a creepy being like Lord Voldemort.

"Yes, devoured. He's gone. He's dead," Hermione corroborated, softly. "Harry managed to use the dome to free the dragon, as we planned, and then the dome fell. The army on the other side was about to enter, but the dragon stopped them. And everyone realised that if the dragon was obeying Harry, then Voldemort was dead. Many of your people surrendered. Many were captured. Some ran away."

"I see..." Draco muttered. Taking it all in slowly. But then something came to his mind. It jolted his heart. "My father?" he gasped suddenly, voiceless. And he felt Hermione jump in his arms in surprise. "Have you heard from him?"

The girl pulled away from his chest then, so that she could look into his eyes. Still inside the grip of his arms. Dazed, she struggled to remember. But she ended up shaking her head, cautiously.

"No, I'm sorry. I just β€” I've only seen my friends. I haven't heard anything about him. He's not with the others? What about your mother?" Hermione questioned, watching him closely. Rubbing off on the young man's obvious concern. She put her hands on his chest, and he seemed to shudder for breath.

"My mother has been arrested, like the other Death Eaters. But my father has not," he was silent for a few seconds. His cold eyes were filled with emotion and he had to clench his jaws. Hermione swallowed and ran her hands down his torso. Trying to comfort him.

"I'll look for him. I'll see if he's with β€” with the deceased," she promised, gently. Draco shivered through his entire body, but ended up nodding. With considerable composure.

"What about Nott?" he asked suddenly. And Hermione could feel his chest rise and fall under her hands more noticeably now. "He wasn't with the others either. I haven't β€”"

She hastily nodded her head. Before his nerves broke down completely. She caressed the side of his face quickly, before she spoke firmly, looking him in the eyes without blinking.

"I haven't seen him, but Remus has assured me he's fine," she said, articulating each word. "I think he's injured, but he'll be all right. Don't worry. He's probably in some classroom they've set aside for healing the wounded. Remus told me he's managed to get him treatment. He's in custody too, but they're taking care of him."

Draco closed his eyes and nodded. Calming down. He was no longer shaking under her hands. Hermione took a fleeting glance at the classroom door, still closed, as the boy finished pulling himself together. Any minute now she would have to leave...

"Let's go."

Hermione blinked, still staring at the door. And then returned her gaze to Draco. Taking in what he had said. He was looking deadly serious. Almost impatient. His eyes flashed.

"What?" the girl whispered. Out of breath.

"Let's get out of here. You and me, let's go," he emphasised, his tone firm. Resolute. "Anywhere. Let's just leave... We don't owe anybody anything. If we leave now β€”"

Hermione shook her head, but didn't say anything to interrupt him. In fact, she couldn't hear him anymore.

'And what did you think was going to happen by telling us now? That we'd congratulate you guys on your relationship, and give you our blessing? That it'd all be just a fucking insignificant anecdote...? That we'd celebrate you lying to us for years? To us and the whole bloody Order? You betrayed us all! You've been seeing a Death Eater! You let him escape from Grimmauld Place! A fucking Black Sergeant, Hermione...! Malfoy!'

'You'll face a court martial. You let a prisoner escape. You told him about our mission. That's extremely serious.'

Was that what awaited her if she stayed there? The rejection of her best friends? Of everyone around her? A court martial? A lifetime, perhaps, without Draco? What if she couldn't get him out of Azkaban? What if he was right?

If she left with Draco, they could β€” if they ran away together β€”

Run away.

Run away?

"We can't..." she heard herself saying. Contradicting everything that was going through her head.

"Yes, we can," he emphasised with newfound strength. Apparently convinced of his own idea. "Why not?"

"Remus and McGonagall have put a lot on the line for me to be here right now," Hermione reported, her voice cracking. "If we leave β€”"

"I don't care," Draco spat. "I don't give a damn about them. You have a wand, you can get us out of here. Let's go far away, where no one knows us. Then we could β€” we would be together for once and for all," he emphasised, as if he didn't understand why the girl was still shaking her head.

"What about your family? What about mine? Our friends? I'm not going to leave it all behind. We don't have to. It's not fair. I don't want to run away like we're doing something wrong," Hermione protested, vehemently. "I want to make things right. I'm going to fight for you, and I'm going to do it by facing the consequences. To leave would be to agree with everyone who thinks this isn't right."

"Because it's not right," Draco blurted, letting out an instant gasp afterwards. As if he realised that hadn't been the right choice of words. "You know what I mean. This is right," he assured her, squeezing his hands against her back. "But society doesn't feel the same way. It's not right for them. The Dark Lord is gone, but all his ideas are still here. You're going to lose your friends with what we've done. And I'm going to lose my family. And if you think that by fighting we can change anything... I don't think you're thinking clearly."

"I'd rather be a social outcast and live by your side because I've decided to, proving everyone wrong, than run away and prove them right," she argued, her voice shaking.

"You're not going to live by my side," Draco corrected, his tone becoming sterner. "I'm going to prison. And despite your good intentions, I don't think you can get me out. And you're going to face your people too, imprisonment maybe, and you're going to fuck up your life. The only way for us to be together is to leave, Hermione. I know you know that."

"I'm willing to lose everything," she spat, fiery. "And everyone. If that's what they really want, so be it. I'm not doing anything wrong by loving you, and I won't be convinced otherwise." She swallowed before continuing, "And I'm sorry. I know I'm saying all this from the easy side, that I don't have handcuffs on my hands right now. I can understand if you want to leave," she said, and a new glint lit up her brown eyes. Draco parted his lips, but she didn't stop talking, "And I won't stop you. I have a wand. I can get you out of here," her voice lowered in pitch, but it did not tremble. Nor did it sound at all accusatory. "I can do it. If you ask me to, I will. I really will. But I can't go with you."

Draco didn't even flinch at such an offer. His gaze was lost somewhere in the far corner of the room, his grey eyes full of impotence. Finally he sought her dark eyes, and something in the boy's gaze, an almost mocking look, told her that he thought it was absurd. Without speaking, he told her it was a crazy idea. That without her he wasn't going anywhere.

Hermione reached up and kissed him on the lips. Quickly. Tightly. Holding him by the back of the neck. She separated seconds later, looking into his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" she asked the young man. Stroking the back of his neck with her thumb, not letting go. He didn't bother to confirm it with any gesture. He just kept looking at her. He'd jumped off a fucking tower for her...

There was the sound of the door opening, a sudden creak of wood that caught in their throats. Hermione clutched at his clothes instinctively, as if she feared they were going to snatch him out of her arms immediately.

"Hermione, you need to get out," Remus reported, poking his head through the doorway.

"I'm coming," she stammered. Not yet. It was too soon. She couldn't leave. "Just give me a minute."

"Half a minute," she heard her old professor mutter.

Hermione started to tremble. Suddenly, all her self-control was gone. Finding herself unable to breathe, she couldn't contain the urge to press herself tightly against his chest one last time. Sobbing silently against his clothes. Choking on silent tears. Digging her nails into his back. She felt Draco's head rest against hers, unable to move his hands.

The girl didn't know what to say. She felt like there were a thousand things she wanted to talk to him about. And there was no time. They'd never had enough time. She could not part from him. Suddenly she couldn't conceive of the idea of it all going wrong and losing him forever. That she couldn't get him out of Azkaban. That such a thing could happen. Now, about to see him leave her side, it seemed more real than ever.

That, by refusing to run away with him, she had just blown her only chance to be with him.

"I'm getting you out. No matter what. Just... hold on. Give me time," Hermione said firmly, pulling away and facing him. As if she needed to say it again.

Draco laughed through his nose and forced a crooked smile. Pressing his forehead against hers.

"I'm a Death Eater. An assassin, right hand of the Dark Lord. Black Sergeant and General of the Shadows. It's going to be a life sentence, if there's one thing I'm going to have plenty of, it's time."

Hermione choked back a sob as her lips twitched into a smile. She moved closer to press their lips together in a kiss. With all her might. Keeping his touch, his breath, his warmth, in her memory and on her skin. And she couldn't believe she was never going to kiss him again. And she refused to believe it.

"Hermione, now," Remus insisted, peering out the door again, a little more firmly than before.

Draco raised his arms quickly, allowing her to step out of the space between them. The girl rose to her feet from where she was kneeling on the floor, her legs shaking. He stood up as well.

Hermione, pursing her lips in frustration, couldn't help but pull him close again for another hasty, quick kiss. Holding his face. Tugging at his hair. As soon as she released his lips, she felt Draco's hand grab her jacket again. Holding her in place.

"You take care of yourself, d'you hear me?" Draco murmured. With a piercing gaze. And it wasn't a request, but a demand. As if anything else wasn't even remotely acceptable.

And Hermione thought of Harry and Ron. Of the argument they had pending. Of what she was going to tell the Order. Of the court martial that awaited her. Of the trials she was going to take part in, as many as it would take, to get him out of prison.

"See you soon," the girl whispered against his skin. With determination. Kissing his forehead, his hair, one last time.

See you soon...

The door opened again, and Williamson and Savage stepped back inside. Hermione let go of him in time, and, against her will, took a discreet step away. When she lost all bodily contact with him, she felt cold and suddenly scared to death. She didn't know what to say by way of farewell. Not even in a low voice. Anything she said now was meaningless. Draco was looking into her eyes. Serious, and, for the first time, determined. There was no fear in his silver eyes. Hermione tried to give him a similar look back. Full of a strength she didn't feel. But that he needed.

And she caught the way his lips moved quickly, discreetly. Articulating something in her direction. In a tacit way. Just for her. It was fleeting. And it took her a second to understand the subtle movement. What he wanted to say to her. But she did.

The two wizards were now on either side of Draco. And they tugged him to lead him to the exit. Draco managed to take a couple of steps backwards, still looking at her, but then they pulled him harder, making him turn to walk towards the door. Hermione bit her lip and managed to stay on her feet until they left the room. And then she plopped down in the chair the boy had occupied. Bursting into tears. Silently, because she didn't even have any air. She sobbed desperately, against the palms of her hands.

'I love you...'

Wiping away her tears, trying to breathe, she discovered that Remus had entered the classroom again. He was standing near the door. Staring at her. Saying nothing. No longer hurrying her. But the girl scolded herself that enough was enough. Crying didn't solve anything. It didn't begin to fix things. And she had too much to do.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, swallowing hard. Squeezing her thighs with her hands. Just for a few seconds, until she pulled herself together. She jumped to her feet. Panting. With wet eyelashes and dry eyes. And she started walking towards the door. With long strides. Her fists clenched.

No more lies. No more hiding. And she wasn't done fighting.