Hermione and George watched as Draco unfurled dozens of parchments—the same ones Hermione had seen strewn about their room just a few hours earlier.
George's fingers touched a very precise drawing of Malfoy Manor. "This is your house, mate?" he asked.
"Part of it," Draco answered seriously. "This is just my parents' wing. This is where He lives."
"Wing?" George asked. "How many wings does your fucking house have?"
Draco winced. "A few," he replied vaguely. "There was one for me," Draco continued, producing another drawing. "I would've been expected to live there with my wife, as is tradition."
Hermione's stomach flipped. Wife. Draco's wife. She would've been expected to live at Malfoy Manor.
Wait. What?
She wasn't Draco's wife.
Yet.
Wait. What? Where was this coming from?
Hermione looked up, and her eyes met Draco's. Her stomach flipped again. Wife.
She was going to marry this man, if she ever got the chance.
If they stayed alive.
If they lived through this, she'd marry him in an instant. Hermione knew, without a doubt, that Draco felt the same way.
What a strange feeling, Hermione thought briefly. She'd never really thought about marriage. It was something that was inevitably going to happen—it was expected of her. She was a nice girl, and she was supposed to find a nice boy—
Well—she'd found a dangerous boy instead.
Hermione wondered what her parents would think.
Instantly, Hermione knew that her mother would have loved Draco the second she'd met him. Her father would like him, too—but it would have taken longer. Suddenly, she was very sad. Her parents would likely never meet her very nice, very dangerous boy.
Draco was still watching her, his eyes narrowed. Briefly, she shook her head. Now was not the time.
"Do you guys do that all the time?" George asked.
"Do what, Weasley?" Draco asked, continuing to unfurl parchment.
"Talk to each other without speaking," George replied.
"Happens from time to time," Draco replied, saving Hermione from having to. "I have a few approaches— a few attacks, depending on how many Orders members there are." Draco looked to George. "I suspect you don't know?"
George simply shook his head. "Not the slightest idea."
Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You idiots were going to get yourselves killed."
"No one ever listened to me," George said bitterly. "There was too much secrecy. We were—are losing."
Draco's expression hardened. "We were," he agreed, unfurling another roll of parchment. "Not anymore, though." He looked to Hermione, his eyes softening minutely. "Where do I begin?"
Hermione turned George. "What do you know about Horcruxes?" she asked.
George wrinkled his brow. "Hor—what?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco muttered.
Hermione sighed, unintentionally mimicking Draco's expression. "A Horcrux is a vessel that holds a portion of a person's soul," she said. "It's very ancient, very dark magic.
"He has one?' George asked quietly.
Gods, she was tired of having this conversation. "He had seven. He has one now," Hermione replied. "We know what it is, and we know how to destroy it."
"That was your speech, wasn't it?" George asked. "It's the snake. She's the Horcrux."
Hermione nodded. "Yes."
"And we know how to kill it?" George continued.
"Yes," Draco replied shortly. "Unicorn horn."
"Oh, those are easy to get," George said sarcastically.
"There's one here. He appears here often," Draco replied.
"Ah," George said. "That certainly helps, then."
"But how do we—?" Hermione began.
Draco bit his lip. "Part of what I'm struggling with," he admitted.
"Then we wait for him. We'll ask him," Hermione replied.
Draco nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "I also can't work out the prophecy," he continued, speaking mostly to Hermione.
"There's a prophecy?" George asked, practically shouting. "Another one?"
"What part?" Hermione replied.
"Hello?" George said. "Bit behind here."
Draco nodded. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord was born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. Defied once more, the one with power to vanquish the Dark Lord will surround himself with those prepared to also thrice defy the Dark Lord. One was born into the lap of luxury, just as the six month is born, a childhood stolen. A girl, wanting for nothing, sold for the illusion of power. The third—she is hazy. But she will be the one who will figure out how to destroy the Dark Lord for good," he recited.
Hermione knew he'd had it memorized.
George was quiet for a long time. He swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Harry," he finally said. "I'm assuming Malfoy. I remember your birthday being in June." George's brow furrowed. "Who are the other two?"
Hermione's heart ached. Draco's birthday was in June. What month was it now? She wasn't sure, but she knew had June had passed. She had missed his birthday. He hadn't even told her.
Draco jerked his head towards Hermione. "Hermione," he replied. "She's the one who finally figured out how to kill Him. The other one is Astoria. I can't figure out how she fits."
"Greengrass?" George asked. "Weren't you two dating?" His eyes flickered towards Hermione.
"Not really," Draco replied seriously, his eyes still fixed on his scribblings. "There was someone else."
"You tramp," George joked.
Draco's eyes flickered to George. "I will kill you, Weasley," he threatened.
"It was a joke, Malfoy," George replied, his voice serious now. "I wasn't implying that you'd actually cheat on Hermione."
"Good," Draco said, nodding shortly. "Don't ever imply it again."
"—Take your bloody balls off," George mumbled.
"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" Hermione asked. "What day was it?"
Draco stared at her. "It was a bad day. Didn't care for it much."
Hermione frowned, not pleased with his explanation. "I could've—" Hermione began.
I could've made it better, she thought.
"You did," Draco interrupted.
She'd been with him on his birthday and hadn't even known it. It had been a bad day, but she'd made it better. "You didn't tell me," Hermione continued.
George was watching them with wide eyes. "Guys —" he said timidly.
Draco tipped his chin at her, his eyes hard. This was a conversation they'd have to finish later. Hermione nodded back at him.
"See, like that!" George exclaimed.
"Shut up, George," Hermione said. Draco looked stressed, and she wanted to hold him. She loved him, and she didn't even know when his birthday was. During war, birthdays should still matter.
June. It was in June. Of course, he used to get huge packages of sweets at the very beginning of June. How had she forgotten? He had always made a big show of it—grinning and laughing with his friends. He had always looked so smug as he tossed a green apple between his palms. He'd had a birthday, and she hadn't even gotten him a green apple. Her heart ached inside her chest.
She hadn't even loved him yet.
She just wanted to hold him. She couldn't even help it. Hermione took several steps forward and wrapped her arms around his abdomen. Draco paused momentarily before dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
George curled his lip in disgust. "Merlin, you guys are gross."
Draco ignored him, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist. "Obviously, we have to use Potter to lure him out. He wasn't wrong about that part."
No one disagreed with him. Harry was the obvious choice.
Suddenly, George's eyes flashed. "Does He know about the prophecy?" he asked.
"No," Draco replied.
"Well, maybe He should," George continued.
"How do you figure, Weasley?" Draco asked, his fingers gently squeezing Hermione's hip.
"He wigged about the first prophecy, yeah?" George replied. "If He knows about this one—He might wig again." He shrugged. "We can catch Him off his game."
Draco frowned. "He'll be expecting Potter, then. Kind of ruins the elements of surprise."
George smiled. "But Harry's not the one who's going to kill Him."
Draco was silent for several moments. Then he smiled. "He'll never see me coming."
"Precisely," George said. "He'll be too distracted by Harry. Could you imagine hearing this prophecy thinking Harry is dead? Mindfuck." George raised his hands to his face, extending his fingers in an imitation of a bomb. "Pew."
"Harry will scare Him. The idea of Harry will scare Him. He'll forget all about you, Draco," Hermione said quietly. "Harry in the front. He's the target. You come up from behind. He has the power to destroy the Dark Lord—by being the decoy."
Draco nodded, then sighed. "Still have to figure out the unicorn and Astoria."
"I'll figure out the unicorn," she replied. "I'll wait for him tonight. He's probably angry with me anyways."
"Astoria?" Draco asked.
"Not a fucking clue," Hermione said.
"Never even met the bird," George replied. "So I'm useless."
Draco sighed, pressing another kiss to the top of Hermione's head. "I've got a thousand strategies," he said. "But they're all useless until I know how many Order members there are."
Hermione stared down at the strategies Draco had sketched out, running her fingertips over them. "We'll find out soon," she said quietly. "Harry will find me this time."
George sighed, clasping his knees. "Great," he said. "So Horcrux. Snake. Unicorn. Secret plan. No idea."
"It's not like I fucking planned this, Weasley," Draco shot back. "Potter's plan was just to wing it—as always. You all lost last time because of it. I'm not chancing it again. It clearly has to be me."
George stared at him. "I'm not criticizing you, Malfoy, for what it's worth."
"Oh," Draco replied, looking surprised.
"I'm trying to synthesize."
"We should leak the prophecy," Hermione said. "George is right. It's a clever idea."
"Thank you, Hermione," George replied, tilting his head towards her. "How do we do it?"
Draco's expression hardened once again, his lips settling into a firm line. He pulled a blank piece of parchment free. "Write it down for me, Weasley," Draco said. "I'll pass it along. "
Hermione's stomach dropped. "Like fuck you will," she replied, imitating him.
"Hermione," Draco said quietly. "I'm just going to send it, okay? I was a Death Eater, remember? I can contact almost anyone easily."
"Carefully?" Hermione asked tentatively.
He grinned down at her. "I was also a spy, remember? Carefully," he agreed.
"I really can't picture you as a spy, Malfoy," George replied, unhelpfully.
"Shut up, George," Hermione snapped. "Send it to who?" she asked, turning back to Draco.
"Send it to Greengrass," George said quietly. "I assume you know how to reach him?"
"What!?" Hermione and Draco said in unison.
George shrugged. "He caused the explosion that killed Fred. And Astoria—well, maybe it'll send a message."
Draco's expression hardened, turning nearly to steel before softening. His eyebrows raised. "I like you, Weasley," he said. "That's a fantastic idea."
"You can call me George, you know," George replied, smirking. "Weasley makes me think you're talking to my boneheaded brother."
Hermione's arms tightened around Draco's midsection. "He calls you George when you can't hear."
"Darling, you are supposed to keep my secrets," Draco said.
Hermione shrugged, holding him tighter.
"I can get it to Greengrass, easy. But I don't want it in mine or Hermione's handwriting. No one will recognize yours," Draco continued, nodding towards the parchment.
"Really make a fella feel special, why don't ya?" George asked, beginning to copy the prophecy down in his own writing.
"Sorry, mate," Draco replied, not sounding sorry at all.
"Yeah, yeah," George said, continuing to scribble.
While George was distracted, Draco tilted her face up and kissed her gently.
"I'm not deaf, and I'm not blind," George said absently.
"Shut up, George," Draco replied, kissing her again.
George finished copying the prophecy and Draco took it, carefully rolling it up before tucking it into his pocket.
Without another word, George disappeared into his makeshift bedroom, leaving both Hermione and Draco visibly confused. He appeared moments later, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Now, kiddies," he said, smirking. "Who wants to party?"
"George—?" Hermione began questioningly.
Still smirking, George produced a giant bottle of clear liquid from the duffel bag. "Order's gonna miss me now" he said.
"Did you steal all the swill, George?" Draco asked, sporting a similar smirk.
"Not stealing—considering it's my recipe and all. A secret, too. No booze for them," George said smugly. "Got any glasses, Hermione? Seems we're at a bit of a stand still. Think we could all use a drink. I know I need one if you two are going to continue to be disgusting."
"George, we haven't done anything," Hermione said.
"It's implied," Geroge replied.
Draco pulled away from Hermione slightly, producing three glasses. "Hit me, Georgie," he said.
They drank in front of the fire until it died, Draco's hand on her knee, his fingers tracing patterns against the fabric of her leggings. George was bleary-eyed, and Hermione was unsure if it was from the fire or the alcohol. Perhaps a combination of both. It was late and the unicorn had failed to appear. "Time for bed?" she suggested.
George nodded. "Yeah," he agreed.
Of the three of them, Hermione was the most sober and she put out the fire with her wand before stumbling back to the tent, an arm wound around each of their backs. "Goodnight, all," George said as he reached the door to his room. "Don't forget that silencing spells are a thing."
"Already ahead of you, Mate," Draco replied, opening their own door and ushering Hermione inside.
As soon as the door was closed behind him, Hermione had him against the wall, her palms against his chest. "You have a friend," she said.
"It seems that way," Draco agreed, his fingers curling against her own.
"You call him by his first name and everything. That's how I know you like someone," she continued.
"You're drunk," Draco replied.
"No drunker than you."
Draco hummed in response.
Need flared in her belly. He'd been worried—that it was too much for her. She wanted to prove to him that it wasn't too much—that it wasn't nearly enough. She pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him and pinning his wrists above his head. He was hard already.
Draco tilted his head against the pillow. "What's this?" he asked.
"Did we have a moment earlier?" she asked, squeezing his wrists.
He smirked at her. "We have moments all the time," he replied. "You'll have to be more specific."
Hermione stared down at him, the pads of her fingers stroking the sensitive skin of his inner wrists. "Draco," she said quietly, "I'm being serious."
His expression instantly turned serious. "Yeah," he replied. "Did I make you nervous?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. It just surprised me, because I'd never really thought about it,"
"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly, his fingers running down her hips.
She shook her head again. "No," she replied. "Because when I close my eyes, I can see it."
"Can you?" Draco asked softly. "Because I can."
Hermione smiled down at him. "All I see is you."
Draco swallowed. "When this is over—"
Hermione nodded. "When this is over," she agreed.
"I'll ask you," he said.
"And I'll say yes," she replied.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Hermione replied, rocking her hips against him, smiling.
His grip on her waist tightened. "You are so fucking beautiful."
She rocked against him again. "It's not too much," she murmured. "It's never too much with you." She leaned forward to kiss him, her fingers tangled in his hair.
"Just want you whole," he replied, rocking back against her. "Want you happy."
The friction between them was dizzying, but she needed more. "You make me whole. You make me happy."
"Me?" he asked, thrusting his hips up into hers again. "I'm a miserable bastard."
She ground down against him. "No," she said breathlessly. "You're the love of my life."
Draco stilled and his hand went to her face, cupping her cheek gently. "Yeah?" he asked.
He'd always known before her.
"Yeah," she said, kissing his palm. "You're the one, Draco."
His expression flickered, and suddenly they weren't grinding against each other anymore. "Are you sure?" he asked, sounding boyish and vulnerable.
"You're the only thing I've ever been sure about," Hermione replied. "When—with the Snatchers. I knew you'd come. I knew it in my bones."
"I wish I'd killed them."
"I know," she said, stroking his hair.
"I would've," he replied quietly. "I would've murdered them both. But I knew how disappointed you'd be in me." He shook his head. "I've gone fucking soft."
Hermione rocked against him again. "No," she said. "You're quite hard."
Draco groaned in response. "Clothes—off. I can't—"
Hermione stood and began to undress. "Fuck," she whispered. "Did you actually silence the room?"
"No, you didn't," replied George. "I can hear you fucking."
"We aren't fucking!" Hermione and Draco cried in unison, even as they stripped the last of their clothes from themselves.
"Well, bloody get on with it, then," George replied.
"I will still kill you, mate," Draco replied, genially. He wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and kissed her stomach. He pulled his wand out and wordlessly cast a spell before placing it on their nightstand and pressing a line of kisses up her neck. "I really meant to, love. I'm sorry."
Hermione stood before him fully naked, room silenced. It was cold, and a shiver went up her spine.
Draco frowned and pulled back the covers. "Come here," he said, motioning for her.
The corner of her mouth quirked. She went to him, straddling him beneath the covers and taking him inside of her.
"Oh, fuck," he moaned, his fingers tightening painfully on her hips. "Fuck, I love you."
Hermione rolled her hips slowly, adjusting to the sensation of him inside of her. "I love you, Draco," she murmured as she moved.
It was the same movements they'd made fully clothed. But now he was inside her, and she was moaning.
He grinned up at her as she rode him. "I'm the one, huh?"
Hermione covered his mouth with her hand. "Shut up," she said breathily.
He stayed quiet, but after a few more rolls of her hips, he sucked one of her fingers into his mouth, biting down gently.
It made her come. She cried out, her legs trembling around Draco's hips. She dropped to Draco's chest and curled around him.
Draco wrapped his arms around her, peppering her face with kisses as she shook against him. He took one of her arms and placed it around the back of his neck. "Hang on," Draco said softly. "I'm going to flip us.
He was still inside her, his arms wrapped around her back as he gently flipped them so that Hermione was on her back. Her legs were still shaking, but she used what was left of her strength to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him in.
Draco rolled his hips into her slowly, deeply—his pelvis grinding into her clit with with every thrust. Hermione was still sensitive and found herself climaxing once more just before Draco's hips stuttered and he dropped his face into her shoulder with a groan.
Immediately he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms, breathing heavily. Hermione curled into him, sighing and listening to the steady thumping of his heartbeat. She looked up at him and pressed a kiss to his sweaty jaw. "Why didn't you tell me about your birthday?" she asked quietly.
He sighed, still panting. "Not going to let that one go, are you?"
"Not likely," Hermione agreed.
Draco sighed again. "It's been a long time since I've celebrated my birthday, Hermione. Been a long time since there's been anything to celebrate. It was a day just like any other."
"A bad day," Hermione echoed softly.
"Most days were bad, Hermione," he said gently. "Since I became a Death Eater."
"I still would have liked to have known," she said quietly. "I could've nabbed you a cake or something."
He laughed. "June 5th," he finally replied. "That's my birthday."
"June 5th," Hermione repeated, committing it to memory. "Were we at least together?" Of course they were together. They'd already fallen for each other. But she still wanted to know for certain.
Draco nodded, smiling. "We were. It was my best birthday in a while. Just getting be with you, I mean." He looked away from her briefly, his smile growing. "I got to kiss you."
She returned his smile. "Good," Hermione said, snuggling further into his chest, feeling blissed out and sleepy.
He kissed the top of her head. "Sleep, love. We have more plotting to do tomorrow."
Draco was still naked and curled around her when Hermione woke in the morning. His grip on her had loosened somewhat and they had shifted in the bed, so now that her back was against his front. Hermione could feel his erection pressing into her back. She grinned and pressed back against him.
Draco groaned and wrapped his arms around her tighter. "Mornin,'" he murmured. "Time is it?"
She twisted her neck to look at him. His blonde hair had fallen into his face. She pushed it away with her fingertips. He was so adorable when he was sleepy. "Early," she murmured back.
"Need me to wake up?" he asked groggily.
Hermione grinned. "No," she said. "Just wanted to get a rise out of you."
Draco grinned into her hair. "Cheap shot," he mumbled.
She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to get some fresh air."
He smiled against her lips. "'K," he muttered. "Be here when you get back."
Hermione extracted herself from his arms, pulling on her leggings and jumper from the previous night. She didn't know where her socks were, so she pulled on Draco's abandoned socks before pulling on a pair of trainers and heading outside.
She wasn't surprised to find George sitting beneath her favorite tree. Grinning, Hermione sat down next to him. "Still enjoying the digs?" she asked.
He didn't look at her, and his expression was fixed and serious on the sight in front of him.
Hermione furrowed her brow. "George?" she asked in confusion.
George's head jerked. "I think your unicorn is here," he said quietly. "Thought they only came at night."
"That's him," Hermione replied, nodding. "I did, too. That's what Draco told me. He also says they're not very well understood. It's not the first time the unicorn has appeared in the morning."
As if he understood that he was being talked about, the unicorn raised his head and stared directly at Hermione, flaring his nostrils.
"Think he knows we're talking about him?" George asked.
"I'm certain that he does," Hermione said, sighing. "Guess I do have to wake Draco after all."
"What for?"
"He understands animals better than anyone I've ever seen," Hermione replied. "He's the best one for the job."
"Strange," George said quietly.
Hermione didn't respond, standing and brushing the dirt off the back of her leggings. She returned to the tent, where she found Draco had taken up the entire bed. He was sleeping on his stomach and snoring. He looked completely relaxed for once, and she hated to wake him.
She sighed and ran her fingers down his spine. He was awake immediately, tense under fingers until she spoke, "It's just me."
Draco's muscles relaxed. "Love?" he asked.
"Unicorn's here," Hermione replied. "Need you."
"Not possible." he mumbled. "It's morning."
"Draco," she said seriously.
He turned to look at her, his eyes bleary. "You're serious? Unicorn?" Draco's eyes narrowed for a second and he sighed. "Not the first time, is it."
It wasn't a question.
"No," she said. "We might have to write a textbook after this."
"Perhaps," he agreed, standing from the bed and pulling on his discarded clothes. "Where are my socks?"
Hermione met his eyes before she looked at her own feet—at his socks.
His eyes narrowed. "You stole my socks," he said accusingly.
She raised an eyebrow in an imitation of him. "Girlfriend. All your clothes belong to me now, too."
Draco merely grinned up at her. "Fair enough," he replied. "Find me another pair, will you?"
Hermione rummaged through the purple beaded bag before finding a fresh pair of black socks and tossing them to Draco, who caught them it in his fist with Seeker-like precision.
It was a good thing he had already put on his pants, because Hermione had to resist the urge to pin him to the bed again.
She never thought she would be turned on by Quidditch, but here she was, practically salivating.
Draco hurriedly pulled on his socks and dragonhide boots before looking back up at Hermione. He raised his brows and tilted his head to the side, staring at her. "Hermione," he said.
Oh, no. It had been her who had been staring. She shook her head and met his gaze, feeling herself flush. How could he still make her blush? "Huh?" she asked.
Draco's lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "I asked if you were ready. But you seem to be rather distracted."
"I'm ready," she said, smiling at him.
Draco stood and looked down at her, still smirking. He pushed a curl behind her hair and gently cupped her cheek. "Whatever you're thinking about right now," he said, "hang onto it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied primly. "Let's go."
"Uh-huh," Draco said disbelievingly, even as he walked towards the front of the tent, holding it open for her. He was still smirking. His smirk turned serious as he made his way further away from the tent. "There really is the fucking unicorn."
"He really makes no sense, does he?" Hermione asked.
"None," Draco agreed. "Centuries of research. And here's yours, disregarding the most basic of all known facts."
Hermione sat back down next to George as Draco approached the unicorn. "Watch," she said quietly.
Draco ran his palm over the unicorn's face, scratching its muzzle, and the spot between his ears. She couldn't hear, but she could see Draco's lips moving, explaining everything to the unicorn.
"He really talks to them, doesn't he?" George asked.
"Yes," Hermione said. "It's kind of bizarre to watch. He's—an Occlumens and a Legilimens. I think that might have something to do with it."
"Like Snape," George replied.
Hermione laughed. "You figured it out quicker than I did."
"Easy to do when you're surrounded by people who are too afraid to talk to you—so they treat you like a nuisance who can't hear instead." George sighed. "He was in love with Harry's mother. I gathered that much. Conclusions were made."
The unicorn nuzzled its face against Draco's jaw as he spoke, his heel cocked in relaxation. Draco took several steps back and the unicorn kneeled, almost as if he were bowing. It reminded Hermione of the Lipizzaners her parents had taken her to see in Spain when she was eight.
Someone had to ride the unicorn. Of course.
Hermione took several steps towards him, and the unicorn instantly balked, standing up straight.
She swallowed her surprise. It wasn't her that was meant to ride a unicorn. She was just the one who was supposed to figure it out. It was the prophecy. "Draco," Hermione said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"I think I just figured out something about the prophecy," she replied. "About Astoria."
"What?" he asked.
"The unicorn isn't mine. It's hers. She's the one who has to ride him."
a/n: Drop me a review and let me know what you think (: