"What do you mean her father sold her?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

Theo stared at her for a long time, as if he was deciding whether he could trust her. "He sold her to the Dark Lord," he replied finally. "He was going to marry her off to the highest bidder. And He gets her dowry. She's a Greengrass. It's not a small sum. I begged her to run away—but she refused. She'd have access to all the Death Eaters—to information. She was angry—she found the Order. I don't know how." He shook his head at Hermione. "The Dark Lord passed her around, letting everyone have her."

Hermione stared at him, her mind immediately going to the worst scenario. She was going to vomit.

"There was only one rule—they couldn't fuck her." Theo scoffed. "That didn't stop any of them from trying, though. She felt the safest with him—with Malfoy," Theo said. "He was the only one who didn't want to fuck her." Theo paused again. "She was smart, though. She knew she was running out of time. Dating Malfoy was good publicity. The Dark Lord couldn't marry her off while they were on the cover of The Prophet."

Hermione's mind was a jumbled mess. She could see it so clearly—Draco and Astoria on the cover of The Prophet, her staring up at him adoringly with him grinning down at Astoria. She could see him as clearly as day. Then, Draco on top of her, pushing the hair out of her face and telling her that he loved her.

"It's you, isn't it?" Theo asked, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione pulled herself away from her jumbled thoughts. "What?"

"I've known Draco a long time. He's been different lately. Distracted. Sloppy. It's you, isn't it?" he repeated.

Understanding his meaning, Hermione merely nodded.

Theo continued to stare at her for a moment before his eyes finally softened. "Will you tell him that I'd like to see him?"

Hermione nodded again. Theo turned back to Astoria, who was still unconscious in her bed. Hermione left the infirmary and headed back towards her room, feeling numb.

She found Draco sitting on the edge of the bed, looking slightly lost. His eyes immediately shot to hers and he stood. "What's wrong?" he asked seriously.

Hermione didn't reply, taking several steps towards him. Draco seemed to understand and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. He pressed several kisses to her forehead and the top of her head. "I'm sorry—I just need a moment," she said finally.

"It's okay," he replied reassuringly. "I've got you." His hold on her tightened minutely.

"They're here, Draco," she said after a long time.

"Who?" he asked.

"The spies—" Hermione replied.

"Theo?" Draco interrupted.

"Yes—"

"I need to see him—"

"I know," she said gently. "Can you just give me a moment?"

He nodded. "Sorry."

"Theo is here," Hermione began. "But so is the other spy—that's who was hurt last night. It's Astoria."

Draco pulled away from her. "That's not possible," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"I saw her with my own eyes, Draco," Hermione replied.

"How is she?" he asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "She's still unconscious. I only talked to Theo."

"I need to see him," he said urgently. "Can you bring him here?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

She turned to leave, but almost instantly, Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. He took her face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know this is a lot." He kissed her.

"It is a lot," Hermione agreed, kissing him back. "I'll be back in a moment."

She returned to the infirmary. As soon as she pushed the curtain of Astoria's bed to the side, Theo's head rose. She merely nodded. Theo tipped his head in response before standing and following Hermione back towards her room.

Draco was pacing when they entered. He stilled as soon as he laid eyes on Theo. Hermione, already feeling exhausted, sat on the edge of the bed. "You son of a bitch," Draco said coldly.

"I could say the same to you," Theo replied just as coldly.

Hermione was nearly certain she was going to have to break up a fight before Draco grinned, followed immediately by Theo. They embraced quickly, Draco's hand lightly clapping Theo's back. "You fucking idiot," Draco murmured as they broke apart.

Hermione watched on as if she were in a daze. What on earth was happening?

"It's good to see you, mate," Theo replied.

"How is she?" Draco asked, more seriously. "Astoria?"

Theo shook his head. "She's still out. Your Healer says she'll be all right. But—He hurt her, Draco."

Hermione watched as Draco visibly swallowed. "Because of me?" he asked. "I didn't even—"

"I know," Theo interrupted. "There was no way you could have known. And I told you to get out. At least you listened."

"When she wakes up—" Draco began. "Will you let me know? I need to talk to her. I need to tell her that I'm sorry."

Theo nodded. "I will," he agreed. His gaze shot to Hermione, and he tipped his head towards her. "I should get back to Astoria."

"Do you need me to—?" Hermione began dazedly.

Theo merely grinned. "No need. I can find my own way, Granger," he replied.

When Theo left, Draco sat down on the bed beside her. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He kissed her forehead.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked quietly.

He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I didn't—I don't." He broke off, sighing. "I didn't expect Astoria. I know that—"

"That I was jealous?" Hermione interrupted, staring at her hands.

"Yes," Draco replied.

"Theo told me you never tried to fuck her," she said.

Draco winced. "I did not," he agreed. "I had another girl on my mind."

Hermione looked up at him. "Was it me?" she asked, hating how insecure she sounded.

Draco took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "You've been the only one on my mind since I found myself bound on your floor. The only one. You've been the only one in a long time," he replied quietly. He squeezed her fingers.

"Okay." Hermione squeezed his fingers back.

"Astoria is my friend and I care about her, Hermione," he continued. "But I don't love her. I love you."

"She didn't know you were a spy," she said quietly, staring up at him. "She was pretending to date you because you made her feel safe. You make me feel safe."

He moved closer to her on the bed, cupping her face in his hand. "I will always keep you safe, Hermione," he replied before kissing her.

She was already so tired—mentally, emotionally, physically. He was her refuge in the tempest that was currently her life. She kissed him back, feeling herself melt into him. Touching him made her feel stronger. She was feeling weak, but he was strong and solid against her hands. He had promised to help her carry her burdens. As she kissed him, they slipped from her mind.

They were on a real bed, with real sheets and real pillows. They had a ceiling and a door. They were warm and safe. They could take their time. The days had been long, and all she wanted was to be close to him. Almost as if he were reading her thoughts, he broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. "Is right now the right time?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care," she replied.

Draco chuckled and nodded before standing. He manually locked the door and quickly muttered a silencing charm. He returned to the bed and kissed her. With his arms gently wrapped around her waist, he fell back against the bed, pulling her with him. She laughed as they fell, Hermione landing on top of him. He stared up at her, pushing an errant curl behind her ear. "You are so beautiful," he murmured.

Hermione felt herself flush. He kissed her again. His hands were on her, gentle. First on her face, then trailing down to the curve of her neck, her collarbone. His fingers ghosted over her covered breasts, down to the hem of her shirt. He paused and his kisses slowed, as if he were thinking. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"I want to take your shirt off," he replied, confirming her suspicions.

The memory of the Snatchers was still vivid in her mind—she could picture it with crystal clarity. She stared down at Draco, who was looking at her apprehensively. Draco, who loved her. Draco—who would never hurt her. Draco—who would always keep her safe.

It was just a memory.

But it wasn't a memory of Draco. It would never be a memory of Draco. She sat up and raised her arms above her head.

Draco's eyes widened, but his hands traveled over her hips and to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up and over her head. It was easy, and it wasn't scary at all. It was Draco, and she was safe.

"Are you okay?" he asked, tossing her shirt to the floor.

She nodded. "Yes," she replied, meaning it. Her heart was thumping in her chest, but it was only because of Draco. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He sat up and helped her pull it off. His scars appeared brighter in the light of her room. Her fingers trailed over one of his Sectumsempra scars. He shivered, and his hips bucked against her. He was already hard.

Draco flipped them, and suddenly he was above her. He ground his hips into her again. She moaned at the contact. He grinned at her momentarily before his lips were on her again, kissing her slowly, deeply. Hermione buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her. "Your hair is too long," she said when he pulled away, his lips reddened from their kisses. "I should cut it."

He grinned down at her. "Later," he replied.

"Later," Hermione agreed.

His lips returned to hers, kissing her. His lips followed the same trail as his fingers had: her neck, her collarbone—where he lingered, gently sucking on her skin before his mouth traveled to her breasts. He teased her through her bra before removing it effortlessly with one hand. He took her nipple in his mouth and gently teased it with his teeth. Hermione gasped, her hold on his hair tightening. Draco released her nipple from his mouth, breathing against it gently, before he turned to her other nipple, paying it the same attention. Her nipples were taut and sensitive, chilled from Draco's mouth and the temperature of her room. She was already uncomfortably aroused.

Draco's mouth traveled further, pressing kisses down her belly and onto her hip bones. Hermione sat up to watch him, wondering just how far he was going to go. He pressed a kiss to the top of her leggings before hooking his thumbs into the band. He looked up at her, asking for permission. Hermione nodded, biting her lip. He pulled her leggings, along with her underwear, from her legs slowly. He tossed them to the side. "Still okay?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I'm okay," she replied.

"Good," he said, grinning.

Hermione had known where he had been heading, but she still wasn't entirely prepared for his mouth on her. She threw her head back against the pillow and moaned as he flicked his tongue against her. He started off slowly, experimenting with pressure and patterns. Vaguely, Hermione realized she was still gripping his hair. But she couldn't let it go—it was the only thing she could focus on at the moment, because Draco had found the precise pressure and pattern and she was about to—"Draco," she moaned, inadvertently grinding against his face.

His tongue slowed as she spasmed before finally following the same pattern up her body, planting kisses on her bare skin. His lips found hers again, and he kissed her deeply. She could taste herself on his tongue.

When he slid into her this time, there was no pain. There was still the stretching sensation, but she found herself enjoying it. Hermione's arms were wrapped around Draco's shoulders—he had already begun to perspire. When he was fully inside her, Draco stilled and met her eyes. "You're still okay?" he asked.

She pushed his hair out of his face again and grinned up at him. "I'm okay," she replied softly. "I'm okay."

Draco began to move slowly, his thrusts measured and deliberate. His eyes were fixed on her the entire time.

This time was different, Hermione instantly realized. The first time they'd had sex had been unplanned—an act of pure desperation on both of their parts. There had been no real guarantee that they'd ever see each other again. There had been a mission in front of Draco, and it could have been the last one, for all they'd known. It had been quick and rushed, because they'd had limited time.

I want us to be able to take our time, he'd said.

Draco's body was pressed against her, his hips grinding against hers. Hermione's hands traveled down his body, feeling his muscles as they moved when he thrust into her. She found his fingers, they intertwined with hers as he moved. Instinctively, Hermione began to move her hips in time with Draco, meeting his every thrust. His mouth found hers, and he kissed her.

This wasn't just sex. This was something else. This was magic.

"I love you," she murmured when she broke the kiss for a breath and Draco began pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone. Her hips moved with his. She held his fingers tightly.

He paused his ministrations to look at her. He kissed the side of her mouth. "I love you, Hermione," he replied breathlessly.

She didn't realize she was close to the edge until she was nearly about to fall from it. His talented fingers found her clit, and with a few strokes she was crying out, clenching down around him. Draco's movements grew faster as she came, and she relished the feeling of his body pressed against her, the smell of his perspiration, the sounds he was making. He was grunting with nearly every thrust, and she knew he was close—

He groaned loudly and his hips stuttered against hers. There was an unmistakable warmness inside of her. He thrust shallowly a few times before he stilled completely and collapsed against her chest, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was—"

She held him close, his breath tickling her nipples. "Amazing," Hermione finished for him.

Draco laughed breathlessly against her chest. "Yes," he agreed, before pressing a kiss to her ribs. "Are you okay?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" Hermione replied, settling into his arms.

"Too much?" he asked.

"A bit."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, stroking her shoulder. "I know this is new—that we're new. And I'm just thinking about—"

"I know," Hermione interrupted. "But that was them—that was them, and this is you. You're you," she finished softly. "You aren't them."

"You trust me?" Draco asked quietly.

"I trust you, Draco. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone," she murmured.

He kissed her neck. "I won't ask anymore," he replied. "On one condition."

"What's that?" she asked, relaxing into his touch.

"If you're ever not okay—you'll tell me?"

"I'll tell you, Draco," Hermione replied.

"You promise?" he asked.

She rotated in his arms so that she was now facing him. She kissed him soundly. "I promise," she agreed quietly.

Even in the afterglow of sex, Hermione found it impossible to turn off her damnable brain. There were things to do. There were things to plan. They had a mission—they had a task. They had a Horcrux to destroy.

But Hermione found that she didn't much care about any of it at the moment. She was so tired, and she just wanted him to hold her. The past few days had been a complete whirlwind. Returning to the Order, finding Harry alive, Draco being hurt—Hermione swallowed, thinking of his bone sticking through his leg.

But He was here. He was safe. He was with her. There was no Voldemort, no more torture. There would be no more goodbyes. And for now, she just wanted to be with him.

For now, everything else could wait. She just wanted to turn her brain off. She burrowed into his chest. "Can we sleep?" she asked. "Just for a little bit?"

His arms around her tightened. He kissed the top of her head. "Yes," he agreed. "Sleep, love." He pulled the covers up and over them.

She was grateful for him at that moment. It had never been in her nature to take a break—not when there was a task at hand. No matter how tired she was, she would always persevere, even when it was to her detriment.

But she was so tired she could feel it nearly down to her bones. She knew she needed a respite, and it was just like Draco to provide it. He had already done it once before, that day they had gone to the lake. In a gesture she meant as a thanks, Hermione gently pressed her palm against his bare abdomen. Beneath her hand, he was warm and solid. He was a rock. He was her rock.

Draco seemed to understand because his other hand covered hers. He squeezed her fingers gently. He kissed her forehead. "Rest," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere." His fingertips ghosted down her arm, then back up again. He repeated this movement. As soon as her eyes were closed, she was asleep.

When she awoke, it was to the gentle tapping of rain against the window. She opened her eyes, andf found that the sky was dark grey. She turned and found Draco on the pillow beside her. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he wasn't asleep. "Hi," she said quietly.

His eyes immediately snapped open. He grinned at her. "Hi," he replied.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. "A few hours."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"A bit."

She winced, imagining him trapped in her bed, bored while she slept. "Sorry," she said. "You must have been bored to tears."

His grin merely widened. "I'm a happy man, Hermione," he replied. "I have no complaints."

Hermione smiled back before kissing. "I'm glad you're happy," she said softly.

Draco kissed her back. "I'm out," he replied after a moment. He shook his head. "I never thought I'd be out." He shook his head. "That in itself—is enough. I'm out, and I'm in bed with the woman that I love. I'm a happy man."

She stretched against him. They were still naked—she had nearly forgotten.

The rain began to slap against the window; it was pouring now, and the sky was nearly black. Around them, the house was quiet. She had gone to sleep with every intention of meeting with Harry, Ron, and Kingsley later in the day. But the poor weather had Hermione finding that she wasn't quite ready to leave the bed. She tangled her fingers with his.

As he squeezed her fingers, his stomach grumbled loudly. He winced.

When was the last time he'd eaten, she wondered. She frowned, trying to remember that last time she'd seen him eat. It had been too long, Hermione concluded.

Draco squeezed her fingers again. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly. "You look so serious."

"You're hungry," she said quietly. "And you've been stuck in hiding since you've gotten here. I need to talk to everyone, so you can fully join the Order."

His fingers tightened against hers and he sighed shakily.

Hermione moved up the bed so that they were eye to eye. His eyes were far away. She rested her palm against his cheek. "Hey," she said gently. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Draco nodded jerkily. "I know," he replied quickly.

She could see his nerves, bubbling just below the surface. "Do you trust me?" Hermione asked, gently stroking his cheek.

Finally, his eyes met hers. He nodded slowly. "I do. You know I do."

Hermione kissed him. "I need to go. I need to find Harry and Ron and Kingsley. I want you to be free," she said against his lips. "I don't want you to be trapped again."

He swallowed but nodded. "Okay," he agreed.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself from his arms, standing and searching for her clothes. Hermione felt Draco's eyes on her, and even though she felt herself flush at his attentions, she was not nearly as nervous about being naked in front of him.

He loved her. He thought she was beautiful.

When she was dressed, Hermione knelt against the bed. She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'll be back," she said.

As she turned to leave his hand shot out and grabbed hers, pulling her back to him. "Wait—" he began before cutting himself off, his grip on her hand loosening.

Hermione immediately turned back around. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he replied, his mouth quirking. "I'm just used to saying goodbye when you leave."

She grinned back at him. "We don't have to say goodbye. Because I'm going to be right back."

Hermione closed the door quietly behind her before heading to the stairs. In the hallway, she passed Lavender and Padma Patil, who were whispering to each other. Lavender paid her no mind, but Padma's eyes immediately shot to Hermione. She gave her an insincere smile, which Hermione returned. They disappeared down the hall, presumably on the way to the infirmary.

Downstairs, Hermione found Ron still seated at the dining room table. His chess board was still active but pushed to the side. In front of him were dozens of maps, which he was studying critically. His eyes shot to the side, and he moved a chess piece. He studied the board critically before nodding and drawing a giant arrow on the map in front of him.

Ginny and Katie were in the kitchen, cleaning and organizing. Ginny was shouting, dictating a list of items that they needed.

Hermione found Harry and George on the couch in front of the television. Neither appeared to be paying attention. Harry was on the edge of the couch, his peripheral focused on what was happening in the kitchen. George had a glass in his hands, which Hermione could smell from several meters away. She wrinkled her nose before sitting between them, sidling up to Harry. His eyes lingered on Ginny briefly be he slowly turned to her. "Hi, Hermione," he said.

"I need a meeting," she said quietly, hoping George wouldn't be able to hear her. "About the three."

She mostly meant Draco, but Theo and Astoria also posed a problem.

Harry nodded. "I'm sure Kings is already upstairs. I'll pull Ron from his maps and meet you up there."

"Thank you," she said, squeezing his shoulder.

"It was good to see you, too, 'Mione," George said nonchalantly, shrugging and taking a sip from his glass.

Hermione plucked the glass from his hands and promptly took a sip. She grimaced as the alcohol slid down her throat before handing the glass back to George. "It's good to see you, too, George. Apologies, I'm on a mission."

"Your boyfriend?" he asked, accepting the glass back and taking his own sip.

Hermione stared at him before looking to Harry, who merely shrugged. She looked back at George.

George grinned. "People say things around me because they think I can't hear them." He pointed to the scar where an ear used to sit. "You know, because of the ear. I thought you were smarter than that, 'Mione. Now I know about the addition of your boyfriend, and two others."

"You can't say anything, George," Hermione said urgently, feeling herself begin to panic. "Not yet."

George shook his head. "I won't," he promised. "I've known about Malfoy since day one, and I haven't told anyone."

"Are you telling me you can hear?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

George took another sip from his glass and shrugged. He rolled his eyes. "I lost an ear, mate. I'm not deaf."

Hermione briefly wondered what else George had heard when Order members thought he couldn't hear. She mentally reminded herself to ask him later. For now, she had a meeting with Harry, Ron and Kingsley. As George and Harry continued to bicker, Hermione turned around and headed up the stairs.

As Harry had predicted, Hermione found Kingsley already in the meeting room, scribbling furiously at a stack of parchment in front of him. As she closed the door behind her, Kingsley looked up and visibly tensed. "What can I do for you, Ms. Granger?" he asked tersely.

"We need to have a meeting," she replied. "Harry and Ron should be here shortly."

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. "Very well," he agreed solemnly.

"You don't seem to like me very much," Hermione said after a moment. "Why is that?"

Shacklebolt stared up at her. "It's not that I dislike you, Ms. Granger," he replied. "But in a handful of days you have managed to throw the Order into complete and utter chaos. You're here, and you've brought all our spies with you. You were supposed to be dead."

"Oh," Hermione said, laughing sarcastically. "So you're angry that I'm alive, then? I'm so sorry, Kingsley."

Kingsley shook his head. "No," he said gently. "That is not what I meant. I apologize."

"Then what did you mean?" Hermione spat.

"You coming here gave them hope," he said quietly.

"And that's a bad thing?"

Kingsley licked his lips, his eyes darting to the maps on the walls. "Most of these plans are failed missions," he replied, nodding towards them. "We were never very large, but our numbers have dwindled into the double digits over the past two years." He cut off, laughing bitterly. "Malfoy's diversion was one of the few successful missions."

"I'm not sure I understand your point," Hermione replied coldly.

He met her eyes. "You weren't supposed to be alive—but you being alive gave them hope. We have already lost the War. We are on the verge of losing everything, but you gave them hope that we can win."

"Since when has hope been a bad thing?" Hermione asked.

"We are losing badly, Ms. Granger," Kingsley replied.

Hermione palms slammed down onto Kingsley's desk. "Then you give up, too. Go—leave. Give up if you want to. Because I sure as hell never will. All we need is a way to destroy the snake and we've won." She stared down at Kingsley. His remaining hair was grey and thin, and his face was worn down and full of wrinkles. There were bags beneath his eyes. "I know you're tired," she said gently. "I know. But having hope isn't a bad thing. If we don't have hope, we don't have a shot."

Kingsley exhaled heavily. "You really think we can kill this motherfucker?"

Hermione nodded. "We managed to destroy most of the Hocruxes through sheer dumb luck. Nagini is a bit more complicated, but I think we can figure it out. I think we can kill her. I think we can end this, Kingsley. Once and for all."

"Okay," Kingsley agreed.

He did not meet her eyes.

In an instant, Hermione understood what had happened. The Order had been on a downward trajectory for years. First, they had lost Dumbledore. Then, they lost at the Battle of Hogwarts. To some extent, they had lost Harry. They had lost Hermione. Over the past two years, they had lost more battles and with it, more members.

And with it, they had lost hope.

Hermione had provided hope in place that had nearly been empty of it.

But Hermione also knew that the Order's logic was faulty. Dumbledore had been a mastermind—he had used both Harry and Draco and had gotten himself killed in an idiotic attempt to wear a Horcrux. Harry wasn't dead—only his Horcrux was. Hermione was alive. And there were three new Order members who were intent on Voldemort's destruction.

All was not lost.

Hermione knew they could win.

She just had to prove it.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed Surprise Spicy Saturday. Let me know what you think. Next update is planned for 8/4. See ya, XOXO Peanut