Chapter 40

June 19, 1996

Hermione was in and out of consciousness, the burning pain pulling her from the unconsciousness that Madam Pomfrey was trying to give her with the potions that she'd been feeding Hermione all night since they'd returned from the Ministry. Every time she jolted to awareness, the reality of what had happened last night rushed back to her.

Sirius.

Sirius.

Sirius.

Sirius was gone.

Remus' face had shattered when he told her. She didn't want to believe it. It hurt too much. Sirius would never encourage her research or tell her he was proud of her. Or offer to let her move into Grimmauld. She'd never spend another holiday with him and Remus, reading and drinking tea. Tears ran down her cheeks, burning her eyes.

He'd never call her kitten again. She'd once imagined that he and Remus could give her away at her wedding, the two of them had been more like parents than hers had been the last few years. More like parents than hers had ever been, if she was being honest with herself.

She wished that she'd never let Harry rush into such an obvious trap, she should have stunned him and locked him in the Room of Requirement in a wardrobe until he cooled off. It was his fault that Sirius was dead.

Hermione hadn't felt close to Harry in a long time, but she didn't think that their friendship would ever recover from the hate that she felt bubbling inside of her. She wished Harry was dead instead. Or Arthur. Or Kingsley. Or Dumbledore. Just not Sirius. Sirius hadn't deserved to go like this, falling through the veil into the afterworld. Hermione wished more than anything that there was some way to get him back.

She wanted to wipe away her tears, but she was too weak and fell back into unconsciousness instead.

...

Snape's voice scolding Madam Pomfrey for her poor healing potion backstock was what woke Hermione up next, and as Snape and Madam Pomfrey's voices faded away a little, she looked up into concerned silver and sapphire eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, not wanting to attract attention to her secret visitors.

"You almost died," Draco hissed accusingly, his hands held to the edge of the bed with white knuckles. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have gone. I should have stopped Harry. This is my fault." Hermione started to cry again, her hands going to her stomach as she cringed in unimaginable pain. It felt as though her insides were on fire.

"Draco, stop, you are making her worse," Theo commanded. "None of this is your fault, love. Potter is a loose canon, and we're glad you survived. You'll be alright. You just need to rest and take all your potions. Listen to the healers and don't over do it."

"Sirius…" She started weeping again, the sobs torn from her throat by her desire to go back with a time turner and save him again. She couldn't push the rest of the words past her lips. It couldn't be real, this had to be a nightmare.

"What about my cousin?" Draco asked.

"Bella…bellatrix…," Hermione paused to sob again. "Your aunt killed him."

"Fuck," Theo hissed, looking between Hermione and Draco as though he wasn't sure which of them to comfort.

...

Draco's eyes drained of vibrancy as he started to occlude, not sure how to process the knowledge that the only member of his family that knew about their soul bond and had given some approval was now dead.

Earlier that morning, Draco had woken with a start when Hermione was close enough to feel the bond and her pain. It took Theo crawling back into bed and whispering reassurances to Draco for Draco to not run straight to Hermione. He'd known there couldn't be any other place in the castle where she could be if she was in such agony. He's started to become overwhelmed by the fear and guilt of allowing Hermione to leave with Potter. Potter was a suicidal maniac with nothing to live for, but Hermione needed to survive all this. She had to, for all their sakes.

And Antonin Dolohov had cursed her. Snape had let that bit slip as they had walked to the hospital wing. Draco was going to kill him if it was the last thing he ever did. He looked at the ten potion bottles that were on Hermione's bedside table. A ten potion a day regimen meant that she was very grievously injured, Snape hadn't been exaggerating. He tried not to think about the location of the injury and the kind of complications that could occur. Hermione was going to be alright, she had to be. They'd all live to be in their hundred-sixties surrounded by their grandchildren and great grandchildren. That is what had to happen, Draco refused to accept any other future. He'd burn the world down to make it so.

Theo stole the words from Draco's heart and whispered, "I am going to kill Dolohov for what he did to you."

"I know I ought to tell you not to do that for me, but the truth of the matter is that I would like his head on a spike." She laughed quietly, but then winced.

Draco swallowed. "My father and Theo's were arrested. We are being escorted home to deal with the fallout.. Hermione -." He had to tell her, this couldn't be put off any longer and it wasn't as though they hadn't already discussed the possibility. "Snape expects that the Dark Lord will insist on Theo and I taking the Dark Mark to restore our family honor since our fathers were arrested while failing in their mission."

Hermione nodded, obviously fighting off sleep. "I love the two of you regardless, nothing or no one is going to stop that certainly no mark on your arm. You two are mine and I am yours. Don't forget that. Ever."

Snape's voice was louder and Draco knew their time was over, he leaned down and kissed her gently. "Si je t'aime prends garde à toi."

"I'll try." She smiled half-heartedly.

"We have to go," Theo bent down and she whispered something to him so softly that Draco couldn't hear. "Of course. Always." Theo responded and kissed her forehead.

Draco took Theo's hand and pulled him back to the bench where they were supposed to be waiting just in time for Snape to appear and motion for the wizards to go out the door.

...

Laying in the bed next to Hermione's, Lavender was torn between elation and sorrow. She'd known her friend had a soulmate, had suspected that she'd had two, had even considered the Slytherin Prince as a likely candidate, but she'd never really stopped to consider what that was going to mean for Hermione.

Lavender grimaced, but was grateful that it was her in this bed and not someone else. She had barely heard them, so no one else ought to have.

She couldn't believe that they were so distraught that they hadn't remembered to cast a muffliato. They'd need to improve their sneaking or they were going to be caught. Lavender wasn't sure what more she could do to help.

Perhaps she could think of something. There had to be some way she could help them. Hermione had always been such a good friend to her. She never mocked Lavender's interest in romance books and listened when they talked.

She knew that Hermione had to feel alone right now, and that wasn't right.

...

Draco could barely stand after his aunt's repeated use of the cruciatus on him. He was only grateful that he hadn't soiled himself. After watching some of the Death Eaters do so yesterday, Draco had abstained from drinking and eating all day in order to spare himself that indignity.

Snape and his mother stood next to each other in the crowd, watching as Draco was forced to suffer this indignity. They were both occluding and Draco knew that his mother was horrified at what was transpiring, but she couldn't show it.

His aunt partially held him up as she extended his arm to the Dark Lord, her hissed words about honour and superiority left him cold, but his occlumency shields didn't falter. He wrapped everything that was true in the not entirely a lie of the fact that his father had shamed their family, he had brought them low and Draco would restore their place. The Dark Lord looked pleased when he read Draco's thoughts while marking him. The mark itself felt as though it was being burned into his flesh with acid. He knew at once there would be no removing it. Aunt Bella left him to wobble on his feet, as she followed in the Dark Lord's shadow.

As the Dark Lord stepped next to Theo, Draco fought the urge to rip his beloved away from the madman. Theo's face stayed stoic as he was marked. Noone held Theo up or had cursed him almost into unconsciousness, but it had been Lucius Malfoy who had been in charge of the mission, not Thoros Nott.

The Dark Lord's forked tongue flicked out and his red eyes alighted on Draco in malevolent delight.

Draco realised that his punishment was only beginning.

A/N: I cried writing this chapter. I'm sorry!