(warning, mentions of attempted suicide)

The first thing she did when she came back to school was to head over to the Headmistress' office and ask her to send away every Muggle-born student home for the time being. Hermione hadn't a clue what happened when she was away, but Professor McGonagall looked at her with a solemn expression and presented her with the newest edition of the Prophet with a front title of 'Random attacks on Witches and Wizards. Words from one of the caught perpetrators: Muggle-borns [redacted] need to die. Has the Wizarding World gone crazy once more?'

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach at the sight of the words written on the paper. She had known it was hopeless to keep the curse at bay—teenagers would find a way to sneak out, and the teachers could have already spread the curse before she even realized there was a curse involved at all. Malfoy could have had contact with plenty of people before he had made his way to the school.

After she left the Headmistress' office, she set on finding Malfoy. Passing through the corridors, she was given dirty and filled with ill-intent glares, and her heart got stuck in her throat, worrying that she was too late. She hurried along, trying to stick to the shadows, and hoping to find the version of Malfoy that was still able to comprehend and not lash out at her with a desire to kill her.

Her hopes were crushed when she made it down to the dungeons and barely evaded Expeliarmus that greeted her there. She pulled back, watching Malfoy's silhouette come into her view, all of the hate and anger on display.

His face was contorted in a snarl and he growled. "Restrain me—fuck, you filfthy mudblood."

He cast Diffindo her way, jumping in towards her. She blocked it with Protego in time, shooting her own Expeliarmus at him.

Restrain me?

They engaged in a battle and Hermione was glad that classes were currently underway. Just this once, when she decided to skip them, she had to find herself fighting against a schoolmate.

One of Malfoy's spells struck her, stealing a breath from her. She still hadn't recovered from her broken ribs—it had barely been a day, after all—and she doubled back in pain, dropping her wand. Malfoy took advantage of the opening, looming over her, his wand raised and—

"Expeliarmus!"

His wand flew out of his hand and he looked in confusion as his arms were covered in ropes, binding them together. He snarled, trying to shake himself free.

"Get over yourself," came a voice from her right, and she glanced up to find Pansy, hovering over her and reaching out an open palm to her.

She took it obediently, too stunned to react, letting the girl pull her up off the ground. Hermione winced at the surge of ache in her body.

"Why?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

Pansy looked her over, an annoyance washing over her features. "Theo would kill me if I let anything happen to you."

Before Hermione managed to get a word out, Pansy continued, settling her eyes on Malfoy. "He's getting worse, you know?"

Hermione knew that the witch wasn't talking about Malfoy now. Her heart leaped in sadness at the thought of not having Theo beside her to help her fix this mess. She could feel the emptiness weight heavy on her chest at the mention of him, her neck no more adorned by the necklace he had given her.

"Why aren't you trying to kill me?" she asked Pansy suspiciously.

Pansy snorted. "Trust me, I'm just as baffled at this as you are."

After a beat of silence, she added. "I don't hate you, you know?" she said quietly, bringing her gaze to rest on Hermione. "After the war… All the shit that happened, I couldn't. No one deserves it, especially not because of some bullshit blood status."

Hermione struggled to find the words that would be an appropriate response. Thanks didn't quite fit the situation—thanks for not being hated?

Pansy nodded at her, then at Malfoy. "You'll be fine?"

Hermione nodded back and watched Pansy walk away. It was just her and Malfoy now.

"Malfoy," she started, walking up to him. She had to try to reason with him.

Her mind whirled back to yesterday—to what Albert, the ghost she had met, had told her. Because of how dark, how evil, how despicable the curse was, it wouldn't be broken without a sacrifice. Either the caster died—or if the target, or one of the targets, decided to give up their life for the safety of the rest, the curse would cease its active influence. A life for a life. There was one catch—the person who the spell had been cast on would die as well if the target sacrificed themselves. Albert said that it was an ancient, rare, dark spell—the extend of what it was capable of was beyond even his knowledge. He had told her, when she inquired about why the curse didn't influence every person at the castle, that the most susceptible victims for a curse like this were those who already harbored a dark side within them, grappling with their own inner turmoil, or individuals who could easily succumb to its influence due to their current grief and life struggles. Hermione figured that the recent war had played a big part in its wide spread.

The way Albert had said it, "Be it a family. Mudbloods. People of different color. People of specific views. Pick your poison. If just one of them decides, willingly, to take away their own life, the curse will be broken. They would have to know what this curse is in the first place, so not so easy, eh?"

If she were to trust the words of a stranger, then she was ready to do what was needed to be done. She had spent the whole night coming to terms with her decision. She was out of options and putting her faith in a ghost was her last hope of saving her friends. She couldn't do it without talking to Malfoy first—after all she was about to offer him death for the price of other people's lives. She didn't imagine he would agree to that, but she had to try. The time had run out—she didn't have any left to continue looking for another possible cure. Professor McGonagall's contact at the Ministry had come up with no answers. It was all or nothing, and she chose her bet.

"Malfoy," she repeated, seeing him shaking in the ropes' grip, snarling at her with bare teeth.

"Holy fuck—you mudblood—Granger, you better talk—fast," he responded, trying to control himself.

She didn't waste her time to walk him through the way she had obtained her information—she told him what he needed to know, which was how to lift the curse.

He looked dumbfound for a second, his mind clearing for a heartbeat.

"Fine," he said quickly, adding afterwards, "I will kill you, you filth."

"Malfoy, I know you're not in your right mind now, but I need you to tell me, the real you, if you agree to—what I'm offering."

"Fuck, fuck—yes," he growled. "Granger, for fuck's sake, the only thing on my mind is to kill every mudblood in this world. I haven't said that word since the war—I couldn't anymore. And now it's the only one that can leave my mouth. I've been a coward all my miserable life—for once I want to do what's fucking right, so fucking do it—fuck."

Her eyes widened at the man in front of her and what he was saying. She was coming to see him with absolutely no doubt in her mind that he would laugh at what she had to tell him. The same Malfoy that bullied her for the blood that ran in her veins for years, was offering his life to, ironically, save hers and other muggle-born people. If she could waste the precious time to dwell on the broken man that had become of Draco Malfoy—she would feel sadness, pity even, but she had to push those feelings aside and do what she had to.

"Okay," she told him, grabbing her wand. She pointed it towards her, trying to choose the best spell to make it—as painless as she could. A swift cut with Diffindo? She definitely didn't want to blow herself to pieces with Bombarda or burn herself alive with Incindo. Those were definite no's. If she had thought this through a little more and if she had just a little more time, she could brew—

"Do not even think about it."

A voice she recognized instantly froze her in place. Her grip waned and she saw Theo storming her way, burning anger visible in his posture.

"Have you lost your mind?" he asked, grabbing her by the arm and taking her wand away. She was so stunned by his sudden presence she didn't even react.

"I—" she fumbled for words.

How did he know where to find her and how did he know what she was planning to do? He wasn't supposed to know. He wasn't supposed to be here and he definitely wasn't supposed to stop her.

"How do you—?"

"Potter," he told her sternly. "You have lost your mind. Unbelievable."

How did Harry know that it was Theo that had any idea what was going on? She had never, not even once, used his name when she was telling him about what was going on. Unless—Ginny. She must have blabbed and Harry put the pieces together. Wonderful.

"It's the only way, Theo," she told him, trying to push him away and proceed with her—sacrifice.

"No," he hissed, holding her face in his hands. "Listen to me. I will not let you or Draco pay for what my father has done. I should have done it the moment I found out about it. He is the one who deserves to die. And he will."

She shook her head, feeling the tears stain her cheeks. "He's still your father, you can't."

Theo wiped the tears from her face, bringing his forehead to hers and placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "I care about you, okay?" he said, kissing her nose. "My father—he had it coming for a long time. I don't want to lose you. So, please, stop with trying to put your life on the line for the mistakes of a miserable, pathetic man that is my father."

They heard a growl from Malfoy and they both looked at him—his expression was of utter disdain and disgust. "Theo, you fucking traitor. You don't fucking dare."

Hermione couldn't tell if Malfoy was talking about Theo stopping her from breaking the curse at the expanse of their lives or about Theo betraying his blood for kissing her.

"Look at him," she said, pointing at the blonde wizard. "We don't have time. Your father is locked up in Azkaban. We need to do something now."

Theo pulled away, locking his eyes with Malfoy. "We need to keep him restrained for now. We can't let him go. We should take her to McGonagall and let her handle him for now."

He looked at her. "I have already made an appointment with Shacklebolt, but you and Potter should go see him. I'm sure he will take better to the Golden Girl and the Boy-Who-Lived. It's tomorrow. I already sent an owl to Potter."

"Why didn't you tell me you were planning it?"

Theo sighed, slipping his gaze away from her. "I—" his voice wavered. "I'm trying to get my own father killed. Does that make me someone you'd want to be around?"

Hermione found his hand, squeezing it. "I was about to take my own life and your friend's life as well. We both might be a little crazy," she said, trying not to delve into the nature of both of their behaviors. They were both pushed against the wall and made their decisions. What the war and years spent as Harry's friend had taught her was that sometimes you had no other choices.

He nodded, squeezing her hand back lightly before moving away.

"Will you come see me tonight? At our spot?"

Theo stopped in his tracks. "I told you, it's not a good idea for—"

"—me to be alone with you, yes," she finished, holding his gaze, trying to convey her feelings, her longing for him with just a stare. "I will be waiting."

"It's too dangerous for you to be here right now," he told her with a stern voice. "You should leave and stay with someone you trust."

"I trust you," she pointed out, but he shook his head.

"I don't even trust myself in the moment," he said. "These people are not in their right minds. You staying here is serving yourself on a silver platter for them. Leave."

She grabbed his hand, knowing he was right, but she couldn't just leave like that. She had no idea how this whole situation would end—what if there were no more moments between them in the future? The world was burning and all she could do was wait.

"I will leave," she promised. "But first, come see me tonight."