Draco woke early the next morning. Hermione groaned in protest as he pulled away from her, but he merely kissed her forehead. "Sleep," he said.

She ignored him and stumbled out of bed minutes later. She found him grounding down unicorn horn at the coffee table with a focused expression. Hermione sat next to him and pulled the book he had given her towards her, once again studying the steps to make the Falsitiserum.

"Is it enough?" Hermione asked quietly, once he'd stopped grounding the horn into a fine, silvery powder.

"Exactly enough," he replied seriously, his eyes narrowed. "We'll brew tomorrow evening."

Hermione nodded, but her nerves flared. She didn't have it memorized. Not even close. "How can this only take 24 hours?" she asked after scanning the instructions twice.

"It doesn't," Draco replied. "A true Falsitiserum typically takes two months."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion.

Draco sighed. "It's modified. Snape's recipe. As you know, we don't have exactly have the luxury of waiting around for two months for a potion to brew."

Hermione froze. She still didn't know what to make of Snape. What if this potion was a trick, or a trap?

"I've taken it myself, Hermione," Draco said, as if he could read her thoughts. "It's safe."

This eased her worries somewhat, but not entirely. "I want to take it," she replied resolutely.

Draco stared at her for several moments before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay?" she asked, surprised.

Draco nodded. "You're stubborn. It's safe. If it will ease your worrying, I have no qualms."

"Okay," Hermione said awkwardly. He grinned at her, and it made her blush. "What?"

His grin widened. "You're cute when you don't know what to say."

Hermione huffed and returned to the recipe for Falsitiserum. Draco laughed. She continued reading, intent to ignore him.

Draco began to get ready for work, and Hermione's mirth began to fade, steadily being replaced by a sense of dread. He was leaving, and he wasn't safe—ever.

When he was dressed in his Death Eater robes, he kneeled before her and rested his hand on her knee. "Hey," he said more seriously.

Hermione met his eyes and gulped. "Will He hurt you again today?"

Draco visibly winced. "I hope not," he eventually replied, giving her a fake smile.

That was not reassuring. But it was the truth.

She cupped his face in her hands. "Come here," she said quietly.

Draco understood instantly and kissed her. Once, then twice. "I'll be okay, Hermione," he murmured once he'd pulled away. "I promise."

Hermione kissed him again. "Okay," she said, because there was nothing else she could say.

She just had to trust him.

"I have to go," he said quietly, looking reluctant.

"I know," Hermione replied, just as reluctantly.

Draco stood, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be all right," he repeated.

Hermione nodded. "I know."

He took several steps back before apparating away, leaving Hermione alone.

Hermione stared at the spot where he'd just been standing for several moments before returning to the Falsitiserum. She would memorize the potion, then she would find a way to destroy a Horcrux, and then she'd kill Voldemort.

She was absolutely determined.

She read all day, and learned nothing. She tried not to be frustrated—she had employed a similar tactic when it came to the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk and—eventually—it had paid off.

Sometimes it took a while. She knew that.

But Hermione was impatient.

She wanted information now.

The day passed. As she continued to read, learning nothing, she started to allow herself to worry about Draco. Was he okay? Had he been tortured today?

Was he even alive?

Draco appeared just after sunset, paler than usual and shaky. She knew he had been tortured again, but at least he was standing. Hermione instantly rose and went to the kitchen, pulling a vial of pain potion from the cabinet. She handed the vial to him before either of them spoke a word to each other.

Draco took the vial from her with a pained smile before downing it in one gulp. He tossed the vial to the floor before wrapping his arms around her waist. He sagged against her.

"How long this time?" Hermione asked, holding him back.

"Not long," he replied. "Couple of minutes. I'm okay."

Her heart sank. She'd hoped she'd been wrong about him being tortured. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"S'okay. Have you," he muttered.

Hermione felt tears run down her face as she held him. Again, he twitched in her arms.

She had to kill Him. She had to.

"Let's go to bed," she said.

Draco shook his head against her. "Can't. Have to get ready for tomorrow."

"Tell me what to do," Hermione replied. "I'll do it."

"No. I have to," he said, pulling away from her.

"And you call me stubborn," Hermione grumbled.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?" Draco smirked weakly.

He was right, and she let him go.

Draco went to the kitchen cabinet and began to pull out various ingredients. Mentally, Hermione checked the ingredients off when she recognized them. Unicorn horn, check. Acromantula venom, check. Adder's Fork, check.

He went to reach for a vial on the second shelf, and Hermione watched as the muscles in his shoulders contracted violently. "Fuck," Draco groaned, sagging against the counter.

Instantly, Hermione went to him and began to gently massage the knots in his shoulders. "Relax, Draco," she said quietly.

Beneath her fingers, his muscles continued to tense. "Fuck," he repeated. After a moment, the tension in his shoulders disappeared. His head dropped down onto the countertop.

Hermione continued to massage his shoulders until he was boneless beneath her. She pressed a lingering kiss to his clothed shoulder. "You need to rest. Let me help you," she repeated softly.

He tensed momentarily and Hermione was worried his muscles would contract again before he nodded against the countertop. "Okay," he said weakly. He sank down on to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest.

Well, that wasn't entirely what Hermione had had in mind, but it was better than nothing. She rolled her eyes. He was downright impossible. "What else do I need?" she asked.

"Moon stone. Very top shelf, far right," he murmured.

Hermione hopped onto the kitchen counter and began pulling vials from the cabinet at Draco's instruction. He knew every ingredient he had, and precisely where it was located in the cabinet. When he was done, Hermione had gathered nearly twenty vials of ingredients. "Mortar and pestle?" she asked, spotting one on the top shelf.

Draco shook his head. "It's too heavy. I'll get it tomorrow."

She slid off the counter and curled into Draco's side, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his shoulder. Hermione breathed him in.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "You're upset again," he said after a moment.

"You're hurt again," Hermione countered.

"I'm fine," Draco replied.

Hermione curled into him further. She wasn't going to argue with him. Not now. "I know you are," she conceded quietly.

The comfortable weight of Draco left the top of her head, and Hermione turned to look at him in confusion. Her nose met his, and he ducked his head down further, catching her lips in a gentle kiss. He buried a hand in her curls, pulling her closer. His fingers spasmed in her hair.

She kissed him back, and it took her a moment to realize what he was doing. She was upset, and he was trying to comfort her. He'd been tortured, and he was trying to comfort her.

It made her want to cry.

But she could comfort him, too. Hermione's arms left his waist and she ran her fingers through his hair before cradling his face in her hands, pulling him closer. She kissed him harder. Draco's fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, traveling no further than her navel. His hand was warm against her skin but it still made her shiver.

She had fallen for him so hard.

And she wanted to touch him back.

Hermione slid her own fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, reveling in the feeling of his bare skin against her fingertips, the feeling of his muscles, and then—she reached the Sectumsempra scar and he gasped against her lips.

He'd wondered if her scar hurt her. Perhaps his did. "Does yours hurt?" she asked against his lips.

"It's sensitive," he replied quietly.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said immediately, pulling her hand away.

Draco pulled her hand back. "You can touch. Just be gentle with me." He grinned weakly against her lips.

Of course she'd be gentle with him. He was hurting. She ran her fingers across his scar, feeling how rugged and warped his skin still was. She remembered how badly he'd been bleeding when Harry had struck him. It had been a near-catastrophic injury. He could have been killed, and it still hurt him.

When had he ever been safe?

He was barely breathing as she touched him. Hermione rested her palm flat next to his navel and kissed him again. "I promise I'll be gentle," she said when she pulled away. Her fingers were still on his skin and his were still on hers.

They fell asleep on his kitchen floor.

Hermione was dreaming about a Patronus. A bright white cat with curly ears. "One week, Malfoy. The usual spot," the cat said.

Beside her, Draco was nodding. Hermione blinked slowly. She wasn't dreaming. There was a Patronus in Draco's flat. "One week," Draco agreed grimly.

Immediately, he looked over to Hermione. He seemed surprised to find her awake. "One week until what?" she asked.

"Until I see my handler," Draco replied stiffly.

Hermione felt her stomach drop. One week? That wasn't enough time.

It wasn't enough time with him.

She wasn't sure there would ever be enough time with him.

"Oh," Hermione said quietly.

"You don't recognize the Patronus, do you?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I've never seen it before."

Draco nodded. "I figured."

"A week?" Hermione asked quietly, unable to look him in the eye.

"If I recall correctly, you wanted to be with the Order," Draco replied tonelessly.

She nodded. "I did."

"Did?" Draco asked.

"Maybe now I just want to be with you," Hermione said quietly.

He softened before wrapping his arms around her. He stayed silent.

"You're going to send me away, aren't you?" she asked.

Against her, he nodded. "I can't keep you," he said. "You don't belong here."

Hermione could feel tears prick in her eyes. She knew he was right—she couldn't kill Voldemort if she stayed alone in the woods, and she certainly couldn't kill him if she continued to hide in Draco's flat. She buried her face in his shoulder and breathed him in.

Draco pulled away to look at her. He gave her a sad smile. "Don't cry, Hermione," he said, gently wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Maybe I don't belong here," Hermione replied quietly. "But you don't either."

She didn't know why she had said it, and she wasn't sure when she had come to the conclusion, but Draco certainly didn't belong here either. He was tortured, stabbed and starved, and for what? For the Order to barely trust him?

He studied her for a long moment, a serious expression on his face. "Perhaps I don't," Draco said slowly, as if he were rolling the words around in his mouth, just to see how they felt.

Come with me, she wanted to say. She swallowed the words.

Draco smiled at her, but she could tell it was forced. "Don't cry," he repeated. "We still have a little while."

A week didn't feel like a little while. It felt like nothing. Hermione buried her face in his shoulder and let herself cry. Draco stroked her back, kissed her forehead, and let her cry.

"I won't force you," Draco said quietly. "But you know what's right."

Yes. He was what was right.

She swallowed that, too. Instead, she just nodded.

Draco sighed. "Come on. We should try and get some sleep." He stood and offered his hands to her. His left hand twitched.

Hermione didn't want to sleep. She wanted to be with Draco. Instead she took his hands, and let him pull her up. Draco seemed to sense her hesitation and wrapped his arms around her. He held her quietly for several minutes before he led her to the bedroom.

When they crawled beneath the covers, he held her tightly to him. She buried her face in his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. There was no chance that she was going to sleep tonight. Draco's breathing indicated that he was also not going to get a lot of sleep, either. Hermione looked up at Draco and found him studying her intently, his eyes soft and affectionate. She kissed him.

He kissed her back, his lips savoring her. They kissed for a long time, tasting each other. It was easier than talking about what was to come. Finally, Draco pulled away. "We have a potion to brew tomorrow. We really should sleep."

Hermione had forgotten about the potion. But of course, Draco hadn't. He was a spy, and there were things he had to accomplish, his personal feelings aside.

"Okay," she agreed.

Neither one of them slept.

Draco rose early in the morning, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. He kissed her, and Hermione kept her eyes closed, unwilling to show him her own dark circles. He dressed and brought her a cup of tea before kneeling in front of her and kissing her forehead. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Hermione's eyes remained firmly shut. She nodded. "Okay," she said quietly.

When he left, Hermione went through his things again. Nothing had changed—he still had very little. She wasn't sure why she'd thought she'd find something more. When she was gone, what would he have?

A few t-shirts? Hermione held them to her face, breathing in his scent. What would she have? Some semblance of the Order of the Phoenix?

Hermione read over the recipe for the Falsitiserum, and spent her day as she imagined Draco often did: scribbling a recipe until she had it memorized. It calmed her mind.

When Draco returned that evening, she was confident that not only did she have the recipe memorized, but that she would also not break.

"Are you ready?" he asked, seemingly tense. There were still dark circles around his eyes.

Hermione put down her quill and shook her head. She stood and went to him, wrapping her arms around him. He relaxed minutely. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I have another dinner tomorrow evening," he replied stiffly.

Hermione's heart sank. Her time with him was already so limited. "With Him?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm—I'm sorry," he said. The stiffness had disappeared, and his voice broke.

She held him tighter. "It's okay," she replied. "It's not your fault."

Draco took a deep breath against her. He exhaled slowly. "I know we don't have much time. I'm sorry," he repeated.

Hermione intertwined their fingers. "Then let's not be upset?"

He stared at her for several seconds before nodding and squeezing her fingers. "Not upset," he agreed. "Let's go make a potion."

Hermione nodded before grabbing her purple bag. Draco apparated them to the clearing, closing his eyes briefly and breathing in deeply. It was peaceful here for him, she remembered.

Would he come here when she gone? She wondered briefly.

She and Draco pulled everything out of her purple bag. Draco critically studied all of the ingredients before nodding. "You're familiar?" he asked.

"I have it memorized," Hermione replied easily.

His expression froze. Then his mouth quirked downwards, and for the briefest month he looked impossibly sad. "Of course you do," Draco said. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He lingered.

Hermione tilted her face up to catch his lips. She kissed him soundly. "Let's make a potion, Draco."

They worked seamlessly. Draco was focused and serious, and as he called out ingredients, Hermione was already uncorking the vials and handing them to him. It was steady, and despite the complexity of the potion, it was the easiest thing she had ever done, because they were partners.

They were both sweating by the time they had added all the ingredients to the cauldron. Hermione pulled a blanket from her purple bag and laid it out in the clearing. They laid down on it, staring up at the stars as the potion simmered nearby.

"Can we stay here tonight?" Draco asked.

Hermione turned to look at him, surprised. "You want to?."

"I feel suffocated most of the time. I feel suffocated in that flat." He paused for a moment. He exhaled. "I don't feel suffocated here. I don't feel suffocated with you. I just—I want to stare at the stars for a change."

"Okay," Hermione agreed, resting her head on his chest. She listened to the steady thrum of his heart, the quiet bubbling of the potion nearby, and the tweeting of the birds in the trees. It was peaceful. Hermione closed her eyes and curled further into Draco.

The night became chilly, and Hermione opened her eyes to find Draco staring intently at the stars. She longed for a bed, but Draco seemed content. "That's Draco, you know," he said quietly, pointing and drawing the constellation with his finger. "You were named after a David Bowie song, but I was named after a constellation."

"I had assumed," Hermione replied softly.

He nodded. "It's funny, you know. My namesake is one of the few constellations that is always visible, and I think this is the first time I've actually looked for it."

Hermione could tell he was still thinking. She kissed his jaw and waited.

"How sad is that?" he asked. "How sad is that I'm named after a constellation but I don't remember the last time I even looked at the stars."

"Not even as a child?" Hermione asked.

Draco shook his head. "I wasn't allowed outside a lot. It—" he gulped. "It wasn't proper. I was mostly kept inside. I was their only child—and my parents worried. I—was with my governess and my tutors mostly before I went to Hogwarts."

He'd never been free. He'd never even had the chance.

When Draco rose to check on the potion, Hermione went to her tent to grab the pillows and comforter from her bed. As he stirred the potion with a critical expression, Hermione set up a makeshift bed on the forest floor.

Draco turned away from the potion and grinned at Hermione. He returned to her and laid down beside her on the bed. He kissed her and took her hand. "I used to go camping with my parents," she said quietly. "During the summer. We'd spend all day outside, hiking and eating and staring at the stars. I don't think I ever looked for Draco either."

Draco was silent for several seconds. "Well, he never really gave you any reason to look for him." He squeezed her hand.

"No," she agreed, looking up at him.

He kissed her softly.

She kissed him back.

It wasn't enough.

Her fingers slid beneath his shirt, grazing his scars. She traced them with her fingers. Draco's fingers slipped beneath her own shirt, his touches lingering no higher than her belly button. Hermione knew he wouldn't go any further.

Except, she wanted him to. She wanted him to touch her. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had.

Maybe Ron? When they had a rare moment alone in the tent, away from Harry.

She wondered when he had last been touched.

Hermione allowed her fingers to explore. They skated over the hard planes of his abdomen, and is muscles flexed beneath her touch. Draco was holding his breath. Her hands wandered across his pectorals, reveling at how muscular he truly was. Her fingers grazed his nipples. He gasped, and her hands traveled further, up and over his collar bone. Then she pulled his shirt off.

He broke the kiss and stared down at her, his eyes dark. His fingers followed her own pattern, stroking up her abdomen. Her breath caught when his fingers reached her bra. He paused, then kissed her softly. He was waiting for her permission, she realized.

"Touch me," Hermione said quietly.

Draco's fingers slipped beneath her bra, and Hermione gasped as the pad of his thumb grazed her nipple.

"Is this okay?" Draco asked..

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she replied. "It's okay."

Draco continued to kiss her, his fingers gentle as he explored first one nipple, and then the other. Hermione sighed and kissed him harder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on body and his lips on hers. She ran her own fingers over his bare skin, intent to explore him the way he was exploring her.

Still, she wanted more.

Draco's fingers traveled back down her abdomen and he began to pull her shirt up. Immediately, remembered the way the Snatcher had pinned her to the forest floor and tried to removed her shirt. Hermione ripped herself away from him, covering her body with her hands.

Draco, with his hair mussed and his lips red from their kisses, looked horrified. "Fuck, Hermione," he swore. I'm sorry—I didn't—I wasn't thinking." He reached for her, then promptly withdrew his hand.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She hadn't been thinking either. Her lungs were too large for her chest—they were going to explode—

No—she just had to breathe. 1–2–3–exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She looked up. Draco was watching her, his expression worried. She inhaled again. It was Draco. He wouldn't hurt her. Exhale. Closed her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. When she opened her eyes again, Draco had moved several meters away from her. He looked positively grey as he stared at her.

It made her ache. He had frightened her, but it hadn't been his fault—and she didn't want space from him. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted him to hold her.

He wasn't going to touch her if she didn't initiate it. "Come here," Hermione said quietly, reaching out her arms.

For a moment, Draco looked like he was about to argue with her. Then he swallowed and moved back towards her, wrapping her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said quietly. "You didn't know. I didn't know."

He kissed the top of her forehead. Once, then twice. "I won't hurt you. I won't ever hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you." He kissed her again. "I promise, Hermione. I won't ever let anyone hurt you."

She allowed herself to drown in him, his kisses, and his promises. Her breathing eased and she was comfortably curled up in his lap. His bare skin was warm against hers as he stroked her back, muttering assurances into her hair.

The air grew chilly, and Hermione shivered in his arms. "You're cold," he said. "Go inside. I'll stay here."

He didn't understand. "No," she said quietly.

"Hermione—" he began.

"You don't understand," Hermione interrupted. "I just want to be with you right now."

She felt his jaw click against her forehead before he nodded. "Okay," he said, pulling the blanket up over them, holding her tightly as they settled down on the makeshift bed.

Draco was tense beside her, and there was no way she about to fall asleep. ""I'm okay," she finally said. "It wasn't—it wasn't you. It took me by surprise. It was the fucking shirt—I just remembered—it—them."

He nodded against her. "I know," he said tightly.

Hermione could tell he was upset, and she didn't like it. He didn't like when she was upset, and she suddenly understood it. Hermione rolled in his arms to face him. She kissed him, wanting to soothe him. "Let's not be upset," she reminded him quietly.

"I'm trying," Draco replied. "For your sake. But I'm also currently plotting a double murder in my head."

"Well, stop it, and just be with me."

"Fine," he muttered, burying his face in her curls.

After several minutes Hermione asked, "Was the idea heads on a spike?"

"Hung, drawn, and quartered," Draco replied instantly.

"Do you have access to horses?" Hermione asked.

"No, but I know of a unicorn that has taken a liking to you."

"And you've instantly enlisted him in a murder plot. Wonderful," she said dryly.

He chuckled against her hair and she pressed a kiss to his jaw. Instantly, he relaxed and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He was always exhausted.

Eventually, he fell asleep. Hermione watched him, trying to memorize him.

She closed her eyes just as something bright appeared in her peripheral vision. It was the unicorn, and he was standing at the edge of her wards looking impatient. Hermione removed herself from Draco's arms and went to the unicorn. "What is it?" she asked, rubbing his muzzle.

The unicorn shook his head, his gaze landing on Draco. "I like him," she said quietly. "Vol—used to drink unicorn blood. I won't let that happen anymore. I'm trying to kill him, but I don't know how."

The unicorn butted her, his horn barely missing her. For a moment, she was afraid, and about to call Draco before the unicorn stilled and rested his horn against her shoulder. Slightly apprehensive, Hermione rubbed his neck. "How do I save Draco?" she asked quietly.

He headbutted her again. "You're being unhelpful, and rather rude," Hermione muttered. She received another headbutt. "Stop!"

The unicorn huffed and shook his head, seemingly frustrated. He tried to headbutt Hermione again and she jumped back.

Draco had to be wrong—the unicorn didn't like her—at all. "Go away," she hissed, crossing her arms and taking several steps back.

The unicorn pranced in place for several seconds, jutting his horn forward. It didn't seem aggressive to Hermione, but she took several more steps backwards just in case.

"Hermione?" Draco called out, his voice heavy with sleep.

She glared at the unicorn. Go away, she thought.

The unicorn bucked, flicking his tail irritably before he galloped back into the forest.

Hermione exhaled, feeling somewhat relieved. Her interaction with the unicorn had been—strange, to say the least. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

She returned to the makeshift bed and forced herself to grin at Draco. "I think the unicorn might be jealous," she said, not wanting to worry him.

Perhaps that was it. Draco had made the joke, but unicorns weren't well understood. Perhaps he was just jealous. He hadn't seemed like he actually wanted to hurt her.

"Like I said, we might have to duel," he murmured into her hair.

"Perhaps," Hermione agreed absently, resting her head against his bare chest.

Draco fell not long after, but Hermione laid awake for a long time afterwards, trying to understand her interaction with the unicorn.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of the unicorn and Voldemort.

In the morning, Hermione found Draco studying the Falsitiserum critically. "How is it?" she asked apprehensively.

He turned to her and grinned before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "The best one I've ever made, actually," he replied. "It just needs to cool and be bottled."

"I can do it," Hermione offered, knowing that he had another busy night ahead of him.

"No," Draco said immediately. "I'll come back after work. It won't take me long to bottle it."

"But—" Hermione began.

"I'll go straight from here to my event," he interrupted, as if he knew the question Hermione had just been about to ask.

He had been right, of course. That meant she wouldn't see him again until the early morning, if she was lucky.

She felt herself sadden, wishing for more time with Draco. She pushed it away and forced herself to nod and grin back to him. He had enough to think about as it was. Hermione didn't want him worrying about her as well.

Draco apparated them back to his flat, his grip on Hermione's hand tight. When they landed, he dropped her hand and cupped her face, kissing her hard. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he broke their kiss.

Hermione was so sick of hearing him apologize. "I know," she replied.

"I have to go soon," he continued.

"I know," she repeated.

He kissed her again. "Wait for me tonight—if you can."

She nodded. "I will," she promised.

After another kiss, Draco disappeared into the bedroom, returning moments later dressed in his usual outfit and Death Eater robes. Slung over his shoulder was a set of dress robes. For later, she presumed.

It would be a long time before she'd see him again. She swallowed, but forced herself to smile at him.

He took several steps towards her, before twining her fingers with his. "Hermione, I—" Draco stopped himself, looking uncomfortable.

"What?" she asked, squeezing his fingers, urging him to continue.

A flush creeped up his neck as he met her eyes. "Nothing—just—I'll miss you today," he replied boyishly.

"I'll see you when you get back," she promised, pushing his hair away from his face.

He grinned at her, then disapparated.

Hermione fought sleep harder than she ever had before. She had made a promise to Draco, and she meant to keep it.

She read, she showered, she drank cup after cup of tea. She fought the urge to close her eyes even as the sun began to rise.

Hermione forced her worry down. He had told her that sometimes his social events continued into the wee hours of the morning. As far as she knew, this wasn't entirely unusual.

She drank more tea and became jittery.

Finally, at about 7 AM, Hermione heard the crack of apparition. Draco appeared in his kitchen and immediately poured himself a large tumbler of firewhiskey. His eyes were red and surrounded by purple bags. His jaw was tight.

Hermione stood from the couch and took several steps towards him.

He already smelled like liquor, and Hermione could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"I'm not in a good mood," he said, taking a swig of firewhiskey from his tumbler.

Hermione took several more step towards him and wrapped her arms around his midsection, pressing a kiss to his back. "That's okay," she said quietly. "You don't scare me."

Draco took a long gulp of firewhiskey. "He took my family. He took my house." His voice broke. "He took my childhood. He took my money. And still—I'm still supposed to pretend like I'm a grateful dinner guest in my own fucking home? At my own fucking dining room table?" Draco slammed his tumbler of firewhiskey down on the counter. It promptly shattered. "Fuck!"

Draco's hand was clenched tightly into a fist, and he was bleeding. He was vibrating with rage.

Hermione took his hand and began to pull shards of glass from it.

"And now he's taking my time with you," he said softly. "What little of it I have left."

"Draco—hold still, you're bleeding,"

"I can't even feel it," he replied, flexing his palm.

"Okay, you're still bleeding. Hold still."

"The snake was there," he said bitterly as Hermione pulled glass from his palm. "She was wrapped around his shoulders. I could've stabbed her with my steak knife."

He was angry. Very angry.

"It wouldn't have hurt her. You would've just gotten yourself killed," Hermione replied, pulling a large shard of glass from his palm. Blood spurted from the wound and Hermione pressed the tip of her wand to it, healing it instantly.

Draco went very still, and when Hermione looked up at him, his anger had turned to impossible sadness. "We have to find a way to kill her, Hermione," he said quietly. "Because I can't do this anymore."

a/n: Are you ready? Cos I don't think you're ready.