Hello dear readers!

I am back with a new chapter!

I would like to thank my beta reader OxfordElise (check out her work on AO3) for her help on this chapter and on the story as a whole.

Also, I would like to thank YOU for being here and giving my story a chance. I hope it won't dissapoint!

I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 3 – Desperate Alliance

The sensation of Apparition left Draco and Hermione momentarily disoriented. When the world solidified around them once again, they found themselves in a serene, moonlit landscape. The air in Transylvania was crisp, carrying a hint of pine and the distant murmur of a nearby stream. Draco's secluded cottage stood nestled into an ancient grove of oak and pine trees; an idyllic scene plucked out of a children's storybook.

Hermione, still recovering from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, attempted to steady herself on her wobbly legs. The pain lingered like a phantom clawing at her senses, forcing her to wince as she tried to step forward. Draco, who had been watching her with guilt and concern, gently took her by the elbow and wrapped her arm around his shoulder so that she could lay her weight on him.

As they walked towards the front door, Hermione could sense the many protective enchantments that veiled the quaint abode, with its stone walls, seemingly weathered by time, adorned with webs of vines and blotches of moss. Hermione felt as if she'd been transported to the Shire in Middle Earth, an observation she thought Draco would neither understand nor appreciate.

As Draco opened the aged wooden door, the inside looked strangely homely and inviting, with the living room briskly lighting up with the warm glow of candles and firelight at Draco's command. He didn't even need to use his wand, simply waving his hand over the air in front of him as she had seen Prof. Dumbledore do countless times at dinners at the Great Hall. It may look like a simple trick, but it was still wandless and wordless magic, something Hermione knew was notoriously difficult for most experienced wizards, let alone for students.

How curious. How is Malfoy capable of such advanced magic?

It left her feeling both bewildered and jealous.

Draco then ushered her towards an old yet comfortable-looking armchair by the fireplace, while he took a seat on an identical one across from hers. As she sank into the plush fabric of the chair, she couldn't help but release a long sigh, her limbs thanking her for the needed respite, the warmth of the fire enveloping her in a soothing embrace.

The glow of the flames danced in Draco's silver eyes as he observed her visibly relax for the first time since before he had knocked on her door, tilting her whole world on its axis. What was he to do now? He buried his face into his hands, trying to calm his frayed nerves.

As Hermione laid her head back onto the back of her armchair, she couldn't shake off the surreal chain of events that had painted her evening thus far:

Draco Malfoy had come to warn her that Voldemort wanted her and her family dead.

Rodolphus Lestrange showed up to make sure of it.

Malfoy then killed Lestrange…in an effort to protect and save her life…

By deflecting a killing curse…how on earth!

She slammed her eyes shut as she recalled herself enduring the Cruciatus, and then watching her childhood home go up in flames. It was all suddenly too much to bear, sinking into her psyche all at once like a flood threatening to drown her. Her breaths became more rapid, her chest heaving as if desperately grasping for air, her brown eyes widening with panic.

"Granger, you need to slow down your breathing," Draco was kneeling by her side almost instantly, his hands gripping her arms. "Slowly, inhale…hold it for a few seconds…good…then exhale…"

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to focus solely on his words and to block out all else from her mind.

Inhale…exhale…

"Yes Granger, again, calm your breathing," he calmly urged her, his hand slowly rubbing her arm as he tried to comfort the attristed witch.

"There you go," he said encouragingly as her breathing steadied, her eyes slowly fluttering her eyes open once more. Her gaze landed on his, finding his face mere inches from hers, his arms holding her in place.

"Thank you," she whispered, shifting her gaze to her lap, her cheeks gaining back a bit more than just their natural flush.

Draco nodded, letting go of her as he sat back into his armchair, his eyes moving back to the crackling fire.

Hermione, after a lengthy pause, broke the silence. "I hope our entire ruse will be convincing enough for Voldemort, but what will you do now?"

Draco, his gaze unwavering, sighed as he grabbed a log of wood to add to the hearth. "I need to go back to Wiltshire. I must inform the Dark Lord that the mission is complete. I'll come back as soon as I can. You'll be safe here."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, anger and skepticism etching onto her features. "You can't just leave me and go, Malfoy. Besides, you need an explanation about Lestrange. Voldemort won't be easily fooled."

Draco's lips curved into a rueful smile. "You're right, Granger. I don't have an explanation yet. But I'll think of something. I must go back now before he suspects anything."

As Draco began to ponder on what to tell the Dark Lord, the dark mark on his forearm, a twisted symbol of his allegiance, started to throb and burn. He winced, clutching his arm as if physically tethered to an unseen force. Panic flashed across his already pale face.

"I knew it! I've taken too long. I have to go," Draco said urgently, his eyes meeting Hermione's. "My dark mark is burning. He's summoning me back. You stay put until I come back, understand?"

Hermione, a surge of anxiety gripping her, looked at his retreating form worriedly. "But Malfoy, what will I do here on my own? What if something happens? We left my wand to burn along with any evidence of my survival!"

Draco doubled over as another stab of pain tore across his arm. He saw Hermione suddenly rush towards him but he raised his hand to stop her in her tracks "There's a couple of spare wands in one of the kitchen drawers. They're unregistered, so you should be able to use them without detection. The trace doesn't work outside of the UK anyway, but better be safe from any Romanian equivalent."

Hermione's eyes darted towards the kitchen and then back at him. She watched his pained expression and felt an odd tug at her chest. She couldn't help but feel as if Malfoy was going to apparate to his death. "But…what if he doesn't believe you? What if he…hurts you?" she whispered, unable to utter the word that reflected what she knew Voldemort would do to Malfoy if he knew what had actually transpired, shuddering at the thought.

Draco, taken aback by the witch's concern over his well-being, looked at her with a sad smile. "It'll be okay. I'll be back. I promise." With those words, he left through the front door, and then disapparated into the night, leaving her alone, staring at the place where had stood only seconds ago.

The ambience within the cottage shifted with Draco's departure, leaving Hermione in a cocoon of solitude. The warmth of the fireplace failed to dispel the chill that settled over her as she contemplated the events that had unfolded.

Her parents and she will be presumed dead, with hopefully no doubt about it. But where does that put her? After this, there is no way she can return to Hogwarts for her sixth year. How will she be able to see Harry and Ron –

Oh no, Harry and Ron – she thought. Her friends are going to be told that she perished in the fire. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of them mourning her.

Before she could fall into further melancholy, Hermione decided to busy her mind by discovering her surroundings. She stood up and walked around the cottage, first into the kitchen, which she found to be fully stocked with everything she may need, as well as the two wands Malfoy had told her about. She swished one in the air to test its compatibility to her magic and was glad to see that it was cooperative. While not as compliant as her old wand, it would most certainly do. She pocketed it as she walked back into the living room and then to the attached corridor, which led her to what looked like a study. She looked around at the many aged wooden bookshelves and was stunned at the selection of muggle books adorning the shelves. She saw a collection of Agatha Christie mystery novels, and a few Victor Hugo books in their original French.

Pompous git – she thought – of course, he speaks French.

But then, her eyes landed on a row of books that left her stunned. The row included the Brontë sisters' novels, and then, shockingly, an array of Jane Austen books, including her favorite, Pride and Prejudice.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief as her fingers lingered on her beloved novel. She decided to grab it and take a closer look. The brown and gray hardcover looked solid yet extremely old, and as she opened the book to the title on the first page, she gasped, almost dropping it.

PRIDE

AND

PREJUDICE

A NOVEL

IN THREE VOLUMES

BY THE

AUTHOR OF "SENSE AND SENSIBILITY"

VOL. I.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR T. EGERON,

MILITARY LIBRARY, WHITEHALL,

1813.

The book was a first edition! – she thought.

How on earth did Malfoy get his hands on a first edition of one of Jane Austen's most famous books?!

She delicately put the book back in its place and walked out of the study and back into the corridor. She found a staircase leading upstairs and climbed up, the old hardwood creaking under her footsteps. As she reached the top floor, she observed that it included two bedrooms and an empty spare room. She ventured into the first bedroom and found it to be immaculate, decorated with silver and green accents, with a wardrobe and chest on one side, a queen four poster bed and two bedside tables on the other, and a door connecting to an in-suite bathroom.

This must be Malfoy's room.

Before she could turn around to walk towards the second bedroom, her head snapped as she heard the front door open downstairs.

Armed with her new wand, she slowly trekked back down the stairs and into the corridor. Her heart was almost beating out of her chest as she entered the living room and was both relieved and startled by what she saw.

Draco stood in the doorway, his usually composed demeanor marred by gashes to his jaw and one of his arms. His silver eyes, typically cool and aloof, now reflected the agony that etched his face. Hermione, her wand still in hand, observed his disheveled appearance, an unsettling mix of apprehension and pain.

He winced as he noticed Hermione, his eyes briefly flickering towards her, clearly uncomfortable with being vulnerable around her. The air seemed to thicken as they held each other's gaze, their minds and hearts racing.

"Malfoy, what happened?" Hermione's concern overcame her initial hesitation. She took a step towards him, her eyes scanning his form for any further injuries she may have initially missed at first glance.

His pale, trembling hand reached for his left forearm, where the Dark Mark resided. The black tattoo, a symbol of his questionable adherence to Voldemort's cause, throbbed ominously. "The Dark Lord… he bought the story, but he wasn't fully satisfied," Draco muttered through gritted teeth.

Hermione's eyes widened, realizing the gravity of the situation. "What did he do to you?" she asked, her voice carrying hints of both compassion and fear.

Draco's shoulders slumped as he recounted the whole ordeal. "He tortured me, Granger. He determined that I needed to be punished. The Cruciatus Curse, among other things, for my failure to protect my uncle. The Dark Lord was not satisfied with my explanations of his demise, saying that I could have done more. He was enraged by the idea of one of his most loyal servants being killed by Potter's underage sidekick."

A surge of empathy washed over Hermione, momentarily setting aside their tumultuous history. The vulnerability in Draco's eyes laid bare the toll of his forced allegiance to Voldemort.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, lowering her wand. "You didn't deserve this."

Draco, though visibly in pain, managed a weak smile. "Deserving or not, it's the reality we're living in. The Dark Lord is unpredictable, and I must tread carefully. He let me live considering I still managed to succeed in my mission, but I can't afford any more mistakes."

Hermione, torn between her disdain for Draco's past and the unexpected complexity of their present, nodded understandingly. "I need to heal you, please sit," she said as she motioned to an armchair. He obliged and sat still as she hovered her wand over his wounds with care.

Healing spells were her favorites, having practiced them rigorously on her own in the Room of Requirement whenever she had had the chance throughout her fourth and fifth years. She found herself mourning what would have been an exceptional apprenticeship under Madam Pomfrey during her sixth year. She sadly recalled how she had squealed with giddiness when the letter of approval for her upcoming training arrived at her bedroom from Prof. McGonagall only days prior.

My apprenticeship is now no more — she thought as she continued to carefully wave her wand over Malfoy's injuries, resentment creeping up inside as she considered that he was the reason she would miss her sixth year of schooling.

He did also save your life, Hermione — she reminded herself, resentment turning into guilt.

Once satisfied with her work, she plopped onto the armchair opposite his "What do we do now?"

Draco glanced at the fireplace, his eyes lingering on the fire. "We have to continue this charade. I need to prove my loyalty, and we must maintain the illusion that you're…dead." That last word felt like poison lacing his lips, sending a shiver up his spine as she straightened, turning his gaze towards her. "Any misstep could lead to disaster."

Hermione, her mind reeling with the weight of their predicament, nodded solemnly. "But how can you convince him further? What does he want from you?"

Draco sighed, the burden of his mission evident in every line of his face. "He wants me to continue my service, my participation in Death Eater activities. The only proof I can give is my continued commitment. It's the only way to keep us safe."

To keep 'us' safe — she thought, bitterly acknowledging that their fates were now intertwined, whether she liked it or not.

Hermione's distress was palpable. She couldn't fathom Draco returning to the life of a Death Eater, a servant to the very forces she had sworn to fight against. "You can't just go back to being a Death Eater, Malfoy! There has to be another way."

Draco's eyes hardened, the pain from his injuries momentarily masked by his annoyance. "The Dark Lord will want continued proof of my loyalty. I will have to continue serving him."

"But—"

"I have no choice, Granger. Now please spare me the lecture on how I should stand up against my tormentor. I am exhausted and frankly do not have the patience for it." He said, his lips settling into a firm line as he anticipated her protests, knowing the witch in front of him would not be easily appeased to silence.

"Malfoy! You can't talk to me like that! I'm not a child you get to scold!" She bristled, her fists tightening, feeling affronted.

He did not respond, simply raising an eyebrow at her as he watched her face redden with indignation.

"We are not done with this conversation, Malfoy. But I will drop it right now only because you're injured, and it's been a long day." She said, huffing at the playful smirk he was retorting with.

"Good," Draco said, his smirk still lingering as he decided to shift the conversation towards a lighter subject. "How do you find your accommodations, Granger? Quite a cozy spot for a holiday, no?"

Hermione, despite her irritation at the wizard in front of her, found herself appreciating the change in tone. She recounted how she had some time to begin acquainting herself with the cottage. Draco listened intently, his silver eyes fixed on her as she spoke.

"And what about the books in your study?" she asked, "You seem to have a particular fondness for Muggle literature. Quite surprising, considering your pure-blood upbringing."

Draco smirked again, visibly amused with her observation. "Well, Granger, for that you would have to blame my mother. She found that my education would be lacking without knowing the fundamentals of literature of both the wizarding and muggle worlds. She introduced me to both from a very young age."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this unexpected revelation. "But isn't your mother a Black? Aren't they the gatekeepers of pureblood societal norms?"

"My mother used to read muggle novels as an adolescent. Apparently, my now-estranged aunt Andromeda introduced her to them, which is unsurprising, considering she was disowned shortly after for marrying a muggleborn." Draco explained.

Hermione had met Andromeda once last year at the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters at Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley had told her about how Andromeda had been shunned by her entire family, how even her cherished younger sister had not even bothered to contact her after her marriage to Ted Tonks.

Just because he was a muggleborn.

Hermione seethed, unable to contain her contempt "You know it's funny, your mother sure loved to cherry-pick which aspects of muggleborn tolerance she chose to espouse. Keep the books, dump the sister."

Draco's eyes bore into hers with a frightening intensity, his anger bubbling under the surface "Do not ever speak of my mother, Granger," he threatened, his voice low "You know nothing about her."

"Oh really, Malfoy?" she spat, her eyes meeting his as if trying to show that she wasn't scared of him. "I think I know enough to determine that she's a hypocrite who abandoned her own sister!"

"You know nothing!" He repeated, glowering at the witch as he stood, towering over her menacingly as he slowly approached her.

Hermione craned her neck looking up at him, wanting to retort but felt suddenly overwhelmed by his intimidating stance over her. He was close enough that she could feel his magic emanating from his body, finding herself stunned at the sheer amount of power radiating from him. She'd never felt anything like it, his magical aura was freakishly strong, even stronger than…dare she say it…Dumbledore's.

No, there was no way.

"How did you rebound the killing curse?" the words slipped out of her mouth before she even realized it, her voice shaking.

Draco's eyes did not betray any emotion, his facial expressions shifting from angry to stoic in a single glimpse "That's none of your business, Granger."

Hermione wanted to ask again, yet she found she couldn't, her breath catching in her throat as she regarded his looming figure over her. Maybe she'd rather not know. Maybe the reason was too ominous, too macabre…and she was here at his mercy.

She felt…scared.

Maybe she shouldn't stay here.

"I appreciate what you've done for me, Malfoy. I truly do. But…I can't stay here. My friends need me. I need to help them defeat Voldemort." She said hesitantly, even though she was trying to convey a semblance of confidence in her voice. She stood to meet his eyes but found her gaze shifting to the fire instead.

Draco's expression darkened, a scowl forming on his face. "You can't be serious, Granger! Going back out there is suicide. You're safer here, hidden from the Dark Lord's reach."

Hermione, summoning her Gryffindor courage, stood her ground. "I won't sit idly by while my friends risk their lives. I won't let them face this alone. The situation will surely escalate after news of my and my family's death makes its way to Hogwarts. Term starts in under a week."

The strain in the room escalated as their opposing convictions clashed. Draco, frustrated by Hermione's stubbornness, took another step towards her. "You don't understand the danger. You can't just waltz back into Wizarding Britain or even Muggle Britain. It would be a death sentence for both of us."

"I won't abandon them, Malfoy. I can't. I have to do whatever I can to help," Hermione declared, her voice unwavering.

The air crackled with tension as they engaged in a staring match, each seemingly unwilling to bend. "If you step out there, Granger, if you show up at Hogwarts or anywhere in the UK again, our ruse will unravel. We'll both be done for," Draco repeated, his voice laced with urgency.

Hermione, determined to defy his warnings, protested. "I'll hide, I'll disguise myself. I won't jeopardize your mission."

But Draco, his patience wearing thin, refused vehemently. "No, Granger! You don't get it. This is not a game. You can't just play dress up and expect everything to be okay! Any mistake will land us both in our graves!" He roared at her.

Hermione, flinching at Draco's outburst, struggled but was determined to hold her ground. "I can't stay hidden forever. My friends need me," she pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice.

Draco's silver eyes darkened as they bore into hers, his anger simmering in his irises. "Do you not understand what I'm risking for you? If you go out there, both of us will pay the price."

Her resolve unyielding, Hermione shot back, "I won't let fear dictate my actions. I can't abandon the people I care about."

"So, you'll kill yourself instead, Granger?" his voice was dripping with irritation as he maintained his piercing gaze. "Because if you think a stupid fifth-year level glamour will be enough to fool the Dark Lord or any of his death eaters, and if you think they cannot reach you, even at Hogwarts, you are sorely mistaken. You have no idea what he would do to you if he found out you were still alive. I won't allow it. You are staying here whether you like it or not."

As Draco's words hung in the air, Hermione stared at him, fear resurfacing in her. He was right, she knew very well that he was. She shuddered as her eyes met his again, remembering that his magic scared her as she felt his magical aura swirl around her, their proximity amplifying her fright.

Suddenly, understanding seemed to dawn on Draco as he blinked, staggering backwards.

She's scared of me — he realized; his expression was no longer angry but pained.

Hermione then felt his magic shift, his aura maintaining its power but becoming less menacing and more…protective?

The invisible threads of magic seemed to hum around her like a comforting lullaby as she closed her eyes, her body relishing in the newfound feeling of safety as her fears began to dissipate.

Was he just worried about me the entire time?

The shift had caught her off guard, unraveling a side of Draco Malfoy she hadn't expected. Was she misreading his intentions? Or was he truly just trying to protect her? The uncertainty left her feeling confused and irritated.

"Don't play games with me, Malfoy," she shot back, her tone a mix of skepticism and defiance. "You can't expect me to believe that you care about what happens to me."

Draco, his jaw clenched, meeting her gaze with his signature stoicism back. "You staying alive is crucial for our plan to work."

Hermione crossed her arms, unconvinced. "So, what, you're just being strategic? That's all there is to it?"

Draco hesitated, the mask of composure slipping for a moment. But he remained silent.

A spark of defiance flared in Hermione's eyes. "You don't get to dictate what I do. I won't be kept hidden like some fragile ornament. I have a role to play, and it involves facing the danger head-on."

Draco's frustration grew, but he maintained a steely resolve. "This is not the time for heroics, Granger. We need a plan, and until then, you stay here."

Hermione, unwilling to back down, stepped closer to Draco, their eyes locked in a silent battle. "If you're serious about protecting me, then let me contribute to finding a solution. I won't sit around while my friends fight."

Draco's gaze softened a flicker of something genuine surfacing. "You don't understand the risks. The Dark Lord is not to be underestimated."

"Then tell me more about him, about it all! I've faced danger before, I can take it!" Hermione retorted, her determination unyielding. "Let me help you."

She didn't want to say that last sentence, but she quickly realized she meant it.

There was more to Draco Malfoy than she had previously thought, and he had gone to extreme lengths to save her and her parents' lives. He wasn't a death eater by choice, he couldn't be. It wouldn't make any sense. And on top of it all, she gathered that they had no choice but to trust each other, that their fates were too interlinked to do otherwise.

It was as if he had read her mind.

"Are you willing to trust me, Granger?" He said, his eyes betraying a glimpse of hope in him that she would say yes.

Hermione nodded, "Yes…if you're willing to do the same."

Draco, though still somewhat frustrated, nodded in agreement. "Okay. But for now, you stay hidden, and I continue proving my loyalty. We can't afford any mistakes." He warned.

"I will. But you need to provide me with a way to fight Voldemort from here." She answered back.

"I'll figure something out."

With an awkward but genuine nod, Hermione acknowledged his words. As they both held each other's gaze, the understanding and trust between them began to solidify, as it had no choice but to.

And there it was!

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Until next time!

Cleo26