"I was—not expecting that," someone said.
"Really?" replied George, predictably with a glass in hand. "I'm quite turned on, personally."
Ginny winced. "Really, George?" she asked.
"What?" George asked, taking a sip from his glass and shrugging. "It's been months since anything exciting has happened here."
Hermione pulled away from Draco and felt herself flush. Draco remained staring down at her, his eyes dark and possessive. His gaze made her feel powerful. She cleared her throat. "Our third spy is Draco Malfoy," she repeated. "He's the reason the Order was able to infiltrate France. He's the reason the Order has a steady supply of Falsitiserum. He's the reason I'm here at all. I take full responsibility for him as an Order member, and if anyone has any questions about his loyalty, you may speak to me."
The Order seemed to be stunned. No one spoke, no one moved. Several wands were still pointed at Draco.
"And if any of you ever threaten him," she continued coldly, "I will count it as a threat against myself."
The wands promptly dropped. Still, no one spoke. Draco's arms around her waist loosened minutely.
Beside her, Harry cleared his throat. "Okay, there's been a lot of new information tonight," he said apprehensively. "Tempers are high. How about we all take the evening to think about it—we'll get some rest and be calmer in the morning. We can all rejoin tomorrow—say 11?"
Hermione looked back up at Draco, who was now staring at the Order with cold eyes. She heard vague mutterings from the Order as the group began to disperse at Harry's command. She didn't care what they were saying—she didn't want to hear what they thought any more than she had already. What they thought about her—about them—didn't matter.
"Ginny, Lavender, Dean—can you all hang back?" Harry asked when the room had mostly cleared.
Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. He merely nodded.
"Come on," she said to Draco, grasping at his hands. He resisted momentarily until she intertwined their fingers and pulled at them. He followed her, leaving the small remaining group behind. His free hand went to his pocket as they walked down the hallway, and Hermione knew he was itching to draw his wand. "No," she said quietly.
His hand dropped immediately.
She led him back to her—their—bedroom and closed the door behind him. Immediately, Draco sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes before looking back up at her. "Are you insane?" he asked. And before she could even answer: "Are you ever going to do anything that doesn't absolutely terrify me?"
"Probably not anytime soon," Hermione replied, honestly.
He shook his head, his expression resigned. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't. Come here," he said gently, holding out his hand.
Hermione went to him, taking his hand. "You terrify me, too," she said. "Why would you come downstairs?"
Draco stared at her. "I heard you scream. What the fuck did you expect me to do?" he asked.
She had—had she? Oh, yes. She had. "I didn't mean to," she said quietly.
He was studying her arm, turning it gently in his palms, looking for any evidence of an injury. Finding nothing, he asked, "You're okay?"
Hermione nodded. "I'm okay," she replied. "It was just—I don't like—I don't really like being touched—and then I thought of them—" She paused. "Unless it's you. I don't like being touched by anyone that's not you."
Draco nodded. "Come here," he said again, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her jaw before burying his face in her shoulder. He inhaled deeply.
She'd screamed. He'd heard her scream. He had willingly walked into a room full of people who wanted him dead because he'd heard her scream. Suddenly, she realized that he was quite upset. She returned his embrace, kissing the top of his head. "I'm okay, Draco," she said reassuringly. "I'm okay."
"If I find out who touched you, I will fucking curse them—" he began, his voice shaking slightly.
"You will not," she interrupted, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm not hurt, Draco. You will not curse anyone."
Against her, he nodded. The tension in his shoulders subsided and he sagged against her. He took her arm in his palm and with a flick of his wand, he repaired her torn sleeve. He buried his face in her shoulder again.
"Draco," she said gently. "Calm down. I'm okay."
He nodded again. "I don't ever want to hear you scream again."
"It was one time, Draco," she replied.
His hold on her tightened. "It's three times now," he said, his voice quiet.
Three times?
Draco must have sensed her question, because he immediately answered, "You were tortured at my house. You screamed for—what seemed like hours. I used to hear it in my nightmares." He paused. "But that was before I cared." He shook his head, as if that fact were unbelievable. "You were screaming when I found those fucking Snatchers on top of you—"
Had she been screaming then? Hermione couldn't remember.
He swallowed. "And that's when I cared. And now—I fucking love you, Hermione. Hearing you scream—" he paused again. "It does something to me. It makes me murderous."
Instantly, Hermione pictured Draco crumpled on the floor of his flat, his muscles spasming violently—too spent to reach into the cupboard for a pain potion which would only ease his suffering minutely. Draco, tortured, but lying to her until he couldn't anymore. Draco, glass shattered and digging into palm—him, too angry to even feel it.
Three times.
She understood the way he felt. She understood it intensely. Because after every time Draco had been hurt, she'd promised to kill Voldemort.
It did something to Hermione. It made her murderous.
Hermione held him tighter. She kissed his forehead again. Once, then twice. "I know," she said quietly.
"You don't," he replied, shaking his head.
"I do," she said. "Why do you think I'm doing what I'm doing?"
He stared up at her. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I want to kill Him," she replied fiercely. "He hurt you, and I want him fucking dead for it."
You want Him dead for Potter."
"I want Him dead for you," she said. "He hurts you. No one gets to hurt you. You're mine."
"And are you mine?" he asked quietly.
"I'm yours," she replied. She kissed his forehead again.
Draco tilted his head and caught her lips in a gentle kiss. She kissed him back.
She hated when he was upset. She wanted to be close to him. Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly. "What are you doing?" Draco asked quietly.
"I don't like it when you're upset," she replied.
"Are you going to make me feel better?" he asked, the corner of his lip quirking.
"I'm certainly going to try," Hermione said.
Draco instantly shrugged his shirt off, and Hermione's fingers went to his belt, undoing that as well, followed by the button of his trousers. He helpfully shifted on the bed, shoving his trousers and his underwear down. Grinning, Hermione pulled both off items of clothing from him.
Feeling brave, Hermione stood. Draco was watching her with dark eyes. Slowly, she stripped until she was entirely naked in front of him. She expected to feel somewhat self-conscious, but the way Draco stared at her made her feel the exact opposite.
"Come here," he said quietly, reaching for her.
His hands were on her waist, guiding her onto him. They both gasped as she sank down onto him. Draco wrapped his arms around her body as they began to move together. His face was buried in her shoulder momentarily before he began to press kisses to her shoulder and collarbone.
In this position she was above him, staring down at the top of his head. She twined her fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of his silky blonde hair against her fingers as she moved her hips. Gently, she pulled his hair, wanting him to look up at her.
Draco stared up at her with dark eyes, looking at her as if he were almost in awe.
She kissed his forehead. "I love you," she murmured.
"I love you," Draco repeated.
No one will ever hurt you again, she promised.
Perhaps it was the wrong time, but it suddenly dawned on Hermione why Harry accusing her of fucking Draco had offended her so much. They had never fucked. They made love.
I love you. Hermione could feel it thrumming in her veins.
They didn't speak afterwards. They didn't need to. Draco merely held her, his arms wrapped around her protectively. She rested his face against his chest and traced his jagged scars with the tip of her finger. She kissed the most raised part of his Sectumsempra scar, remembering the promise she had made to herself that she would kiss every one of his scars.
She curled into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. Hermione was certain that there was no place in the world that was safer for her than in Draco's arms. She didn't doubt he'd curse someone for touching her, and she didn't even want fathom him killing someone for her.
She knew he'd do it—because she'd do it for him, too.
Hermione looked up at Draco, who was wearing a very serious expression. She rested her chin on his chest. She had positively disheveled his normally perfect hair. There was a lock hanging over his eye. She pushed it back, thinking once more that he needed a haircut. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.
Draco's gaze flickered to her. He was silent for a moment. "I never expected this," he finally said, quietly. "Not you, at all. But certainly not the rest of it."
She stroked one of his scars. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"I never thought I'd have someone like you," he replied. "I thought I'd be alone forever. I thought I'd die during this war."
The idea of Draco alone hurt her heart. She didn't want him to ever be alone. She didn't want him to ever be lonely, ever again. She kissed another part of his Sectumsempra scars.
"No matter what, I was always screwed with this stupid thing branded onto my arm." Draco gestured towards his Dark Mark.
They had never discussed it, and Draco attempted to hide it from her, she knew. Truthfully, it didn't bother Hermione. She knew who Draco was, and a tattoo didn't change that. She took his left arm in her palms, turning it gently so that his tattoo was clearly visible to her.
"Don't—" he said.
Hermione ignored him, pressing a kiss to the tattoo. "You're not alone anymore," she said quietly. "I won't let you be. Remember what we said?"
"I do remember," he replied quietly.
"You won't ever be lonely again," Hermione said.
"Just you and me, when this is over?" Draco asked.
"Just you and me," she promised.
After a several minutes of silence, Draco's stomach growled loudly. Hermione felt him wince. Right. He hadn't eaten, and he had no spare clothes, she suddenly remembered. She shifted against him. "I need to get you some food," she said quietly.
He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, we both need to eat. In a little bit," he said. "Just stay with me for a while."
"Okay," she agreed, not wanting to leave the bed or his arms anyways.
Hermione had very nearly dozed off when Draco's stomach growled again, much more loudly than before. She looked up at him, finding him looking tense. "I'm leaving this bed, Draco Malfoy, and you cannot stop me this time."
Draco smirked at her. "I'm sure I could find a way to convince you," he replied with a waggle of his brows.
She smacked him lightly on his chest. "Stop it," she said, attempting to pull away from him. His arms did not budge. "Draco?"
The tension had returned to his face. "They all had their wands pointed at you," he said quietly.
"They were pointed at you," Hermione corrected.
"You were in front of me. They were pointed at you."
He had a valid point. "Harry's right. Tempers are running high right now," she said. "It won't last forever."
"It better not," Draco grumbled, not loosening his grip.
"Draco," she said gently, "let me go. No one is going to hex me in the hallway."
She felt him reluctantly release her. "Okay," he finally agreed.
Hermione dressed and pressed another kiss to his forehead before closing the door behind her and heading to the kitchen, where she found Ginny doing dishes. As soon as Ginny saw Hermione, she grinned, before suddenly wincing. "You have sex hair," Ginny said.
Hermione felt herself flush. She reached for her hair in an attempt to flatten it. "I was just trying to get Draco some food," Hermione replied, still running her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle it.
Ginny nodded, quickly pulling down a plate and filling it with what appeared to be leftover roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. She handed it to Hermione, before pausing her washing all together and leaning back against the counter. "That was quite a spectacle you made tonight," she said, bracing her palms on the counter.
Hermione took a small bite of chicken and immediately recognized it as Molly Weasley's recipe.
She wondered where Molly Weasley was. Now was not the time to ask, though. "It was always going to be a spectacle, Ginny," Hermione replied.
Ginny licked her lips, suddenly looking thoughtful. She turned back to Hermione. "I'm sure you already know, but I have a new roommate," she said. "Astoria Greengrass. What do you know about her?"
Hermione wasn't sure what she was able to tell Ginny about Astoria's role as a spy, so she merely shrugged. "Truthfully," she said, "not much. She was Draco's girlfriend, but that was mostly a cover so—"
Ginny cut Hermione off. " What?" she asked disbelievingly.
"What?" Hermione asked, placing the plate of food on the counter.
"She was his girlfriend?"
"Yes?" Hermione replied.
"I'm sorry, you just said that so casually."
Hermione furrowed her brow. Clearly Ginny did not understand. "It wasn't real, Ginny," she said.
Ginny scoffed. "Is that what he's told you? I'm sure he's told you they never fucked either."
Well yes, that had been what he'd said. Hermione felt her jaw tighten in indignance.
Ginny must have caught the change in Hermione's expression, because she shook her head. Suddenly, she looked sympathetic. "Oh, Hermione," she said. "You cannot possibly be this naïve. Men lie."
Hermione gritted her teeth so forcefully that she heard her jaw click. She retrieved the plate of food from the counter. "And I'd like a pair of scissors, too," she said tightly.
Ginny sighed and shaking her head, produced a pair of scissors and handed them to Hermione. "I'm just trying to help, Hermione—"
Hermione interrupted instantly: "Projecting your issues onto my relationship is not helping me, Ginny."
"My issues?" Ginny asked, looking flabbergasted.
"You're in love with Harry and you won't even speak to him," Hermione replied. "At least I'm honest with the person I'm in love with."
Ginny scoffed. "At least mine doesn't have a fake girlfriend."
Hermine stared at Ginny. "He doesn't have a real one, either," she replied. Food and scissors in hand, Hermione turned on her heel and left the room without another word. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and as she reached her bedroom door, she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Draco—she did. She trusted Draco with her life, and she believed him when he'd said that he'd never slept with Astoria. Theo had confirmed as much. But there was something about the conversation with Ginny that had her feeling deeply unsettled and she wasn't entirely sure why.
As Hermione opened the door, she once again found Draco sitting only in his underwear, this time absently flipping through a book that he had clearly pulled from her purple bag. He grinned at her when he saw her, just before his eyes flickered towards the plate of food in her hand. "That smells incredible," he said, just before his eyes caught the pair of scissors in her other hand. "You've come for my life, haven't you?" he asked.
Hermione couldn't help her own grin as she set the plate next to him on the bed. "I'm going to cut your hair," she replied, sitting next to Draco. As he began to eat, Hermione drew her knees into her chest, finding she no longer had much of an appetite. She was still fixated on the conversation with Ginny.
"Eat," Draco said, tapping at her knee.
At his insistence, Hermione absently picked another piece of chicken and chewed it slowly. It suddenly tasted like ash in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow, and nearly choked.
Draco stared at her. His eyes narrowed. "Every time you leave this room, you come back looking like you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown."
"I think I just had a fight with Ginny," she replied.
"About what?" he asked, promptly abandoning the food.
"You," she said simply. "Apparently I'm naïve."
His eyes narrowed further. "You are not."
"She thinks you slept with Astoria; I think."
"Hermione, I promise you that I didn't—"
"I know," Hermione replied quietly. She looked at him. "I believe you. I trust you. She's just—" Hermione cut off, sighing. "She's in love with Harry and won't even speak to him. She's one to judge."
Draco was quiet for several moments before clearing his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, "I learned this the hard way: you should tell the people that you love that you love them. They won't be here forever."
Hermione looked down at him. "Draco, I didn't mean—"
He shook his head, grinning. "Don't. I told you that I loved you the moment I knew that I did. I can't get my family back."
She stared down at him. "I'm your family now," she said quietly.
Draco nodded, as if he had already come to the same conclusion. "You are my family, Hermione."
Draco picked absently at the food, looking thoughtful for several moments. "I had a reputation—at Hogwarts."
"I know," Hermione replied.
"You do?"
She side-eyed him.
He sighed. "Of course you do. It's not true, I swear. But maybe—I don't know." He shrugged. "She doesn't know me."
Hermione stared at him, waiting for more. She'd been wondering about his reputation for a long time.
Draco sighed again. "We were always going to have this conversation. I suppose now is as good a time as any," he said. "Before you, there were three."
Three?
Well, that wasn't that many at all. She had imagined dozens.
Three?
"Who?" Hermione asked.
He nodded, as if he had expected this question. "Pansy, as I'm sure you can imagine. I had a brief summer fling with Tracey Davis. Then there was a Ravenclaw girl during sixth year." He cut himself off and sighed. "I don't even remember her name. I had the rare night off from Snape, and I got very drunk. I was angry and I wanted to fuck." He squeezed her hand again. "And then there's you."
"That's—not—I had imagined—well," Hermione stammered. "I had imagined more."
Draco's expression softened, and he pushed a curl behind her ear. "They were just rumors, Hermione. But I assure you that they're not even close to the truth. There were three others, but now it's you, and none of them were ever like you," he said seriously.
"Like me?" Hermione asked.
"I wasn't in love with any of them," Draco replied softly. He stroked her cheek. "Everyone else pales in comparison to you, Hermione."
"They're both being idiots," Hermione said quietly.
"I agree, but I love you," Draco repeated. "You are my priority. Now eat," he said, retrieving the plate from the nightstand and setting it back between them. "You can meddle later."
Hermione grinned at him, finding that her appetite had returned. She selected a potato from the plate and popped it into her mouth.
After dinner, Hermione decided to cut Draco's hair. "Stay still," she ordered as she took a place behind him on the bed, balancing on her knees. With a simple spell, she wetted his hair, and began to part it with her fingers.
"Please try not to maim me," he said. "I'd prefer not to be ugly."
She dropped a kiss to his wet hair. "I'll love you even if you're ugly, darling," she replied.
Draco looked up at her. "Promise?" he asked.
She smiled down at him. "I promise," she replied, kissing him again before beginning to trim the first lock of his hair.
They had gone to bed late the previous evening, opting for several sips from Draco's flask after his hair cut and another round of sex instead of sleep, so when Hermione woke the next morning, she did so with a groan. "Fuck," she murmured as she stretched against Draco and momentarily refused to open her eyes.
"Sleep," Draco said beside her, his voice muffled by her hair.
"Can't," she muttered. "Have to meet with Harry and Ron."
Instantly, Draco's eyes snapped open. "Now?" he asked.
Hermione nodded against chest. "I kind of mandated daily meetings."
"Of course you did," he replied. "I want to come."
She turned, resting her face on his chest. "To the meeting?"
Draco nodded. "Yes."
"I told you, Draco," she said, "no one is going to hex me in the hallway."
He shook his head, his expression serious. "That's only part of it. I want to be involved. You've put yourself in charge and I want to help. I want Him dead, Hermione. You know that. Even Potter said I was useful last time. And need I remind you that I am part of that prophecy? Fucking stupid thing."
He had a point, and the idea of leaving Draco trapped in their bedroom again made Hermione angry. The Order knew he was here now—he deserved to be free. He needed to be free, just for once. "Okay," she agreed. "But just know that means you have to put clothes on."
Draco smirked before kissing her collarbone. "Only if you promise to take them off of me later," he replied.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but grin, especially as he continued a trail of kisses across her chest. "If you're good," she relented.
He grinned. "I'll be good," he said.
They dressed quickly, and Hermione winced as she saw Draco cast a wordless cleaning charm on his clothes. She still needed to get him some spare clothes.
They made their way to the meeting room, where Harry and Ron were already waiting, looking slightly tense. "Oh, good," Ron said as his eyes landed on Draco. "She brought her boyfriend."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Draco appeared to ignore the remark entirely, taking a seat in front of Harry and Ron. "Has there been any update on Astoria?" he asked.
Harry immediately shook his head. "No," he replied. "She's still out. Lavender still says she'll be fine. She just needs some time to heal."
"You did yourself absolutely no favors last night, Malfoy," Ron said. Predictably, his chess board was in front of him. He a moved a bishop, taking an opposing knight. "The Order didn't like you to begin with."
Draco stared at him with hard eyes. "Frankly, I don't care very much. Someone touched Hermione without her consent. That supersedes everything else as far as I'm concerned." His eyes flickered toward Ron's chessboard before he quickly picked up an opposing rook. "Check," he said.
Ron stared at the board for several moments before murmuring, " Fuck."
"You idiots need me," Draco continued. "You don't have to like me. But you do need me."
"You know he has a point," Hermione offered.
Harry stared at her. He nodded. "For the record, I saw who touched Hermione. They've been sent to Bill and Fleur in Paris. And I'll admit, Malfoy—I think we do need you. We have an Order meeting scheduled after this. This is your invitation to attend as a formal Order member."
"Will I be hexed?" Draco asked.
"I'll also be inviting Nott," Harry replied. "This will be a no wand meeting."
"That's idiotic," Draco said immediately.
"You can't have it both ways, Malfoy," Ron replied harshly.
"No one should ever be without their wand, ever," Draco replied, his voice hard. "You won't ever catch me without mine."
Briefly, Hermione pictured Draco's wand tucked under his pillow.
"If you want to attend, then—" Ron began.
"Ron, Hermione, and I will have our wands," Harry interrupted. "Is that a fair compromise?"
Hermione squeezed his shoulder. Draco was silent for a few moments before nodding tersely. "Yes," he agreed.
Ron reset his chess board, and as soon as he moved a pawn from his side, Draco responded, moving his own piece.
For a moment, Ron glared at Draco before returning his gaze to the board. Licking his lips, he moved his bishop.
"You fucking idiot," Draco said. "I can think of a dozen ways to destroy you right now, but I'll save you your dignity and resign right now. I'm bored, and I expected better of you, Weasley."
Hermione stared down at Draco. "You play chess?" she asked.
"Of course I play chess. I was fucking rich, remember?" Draco replied.
Both Ron and Harry rolled their eyes at the same, but Hermione watched as Draco continued to stare at the chess board, his eyes narrowing. He was thinking about something. He was plotting.
"Draco?" she asked, suddenly feeling quite worried.
He looked up at her, his expression already apologetic. She knew in her gut that he had just devised something that could get him killed. "I just had an idea," he replied, confirming what she already knew.
"What?" Harry asked, his eyes also narrowed.
Draco swallowed, still looking at her. "You're going to hate this," he said quietly.
"What's your idea, Malfoy?" Harry asked.
Draco shook his head. "I don't know how to kill Him, but when we figure that out—I think I know how we can get to Him."
"How?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, how?" Hermione repeated, her hold on Draco's shoulder tightening. She did not like this—at all.
Draco swallowed again, he was still looking at Hermione even as he answered Harry, "He lives in my house. He killed my father, so he has the wards. But he forgot about me, or perhaps he was too arrogant." Draco paused, shaking his head again. "He probably should have killed me, too. Because I think I can get us into Malfoy Manor."
a/n: Apologies for the lateness. My grandmother died and I did not have the ability to write or edit anything. Be assured, though: I will not abandon you. Next update 9/15.