Hermione's POV

The morning air was crisp as I stood by the kitchen fireplace, my hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. My mind, however, was anything but still. I had spent the entire night turning over every possible scenario, every risk, every outcome.

Draco sat across from me, his elbows propped on the table, fingers laced together as he watched me in silence. The candlelight flickered between us, casting shadows across his sharp features.

"You've been quiet," he finally said, his voice low. "That's never a good sign."

I exhaled slowly, setting my untouched tea aside. "Because this has to be perfect, Malfoy. If we mess this up, we both pay the price."

His jaw tightened. "I know."

I studied him carefully. For all his usual arrogance, there was something different about him now. The fury in his eyes last night had been raw, real. He hadn't just wanted to protect me—he had needed to. And that unsettled me more than anything.

I shook the thought away and focused. "We need to find a way to make it look like I disappeared on my own," I said. "If your father even suspects you helped me—"

"He will suspect," Draco interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "He's not stupid, Granger. He'll know. But if we do it right, he won't be able to prove anything."

I nodded, biting my lip. "We need a distraction. Something big enough that no one will be watching me when I leave."

Draco smirked slightly. "I might be able to help with that."

I raised an eyebrow. "How?"

He tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "There's a Ministry meeting coming up. My father is planning to attend, along with half the other Pureblood families who still have influence. My mother will go, too. If we time it right, the manor will be nearly empty."

My breath caught. "That could work."

"It will work," Draco said, his confidence almost unsettling. "But we need to handle the security enchantments. My father has wards in place that detect unauthorized magical activity. If you try to leave through traditional means, you'll set them off."

I frowned. "So how do I get past them?"

He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver key. It was old, slightly tarnished, but I could feel the residual magic thrumming from it.

"This," he said, rolling the key between his fingers, "is linked to a hidden passage that leads under the manor grounds. It was meant as an escape route during the war. My parents never removed it, but they did ward it shut."

I stared at the key. "So you're saying… we break the wards?"

He met my gaze. "I break the wards. You run."

A lump formed in my throat. "Draco—"

"No," he said firmly. "You don't argue with me about this. If something goes wrong, I'll cover for you."

"And what happens to you if they find out?" I demanded, my hands curling into fists.

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Let me worry about that."

I exhaled sharply, frustration and unease swirling inside me. But I didn't argue. Not now.

I studied the key again. "When is the meeting?"

"Two days from now," Draco said. "At noon. That gives us time to prepare."

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Two days."

I had two days left in this house.

Two days to survive.

And two days to make sure we didn't get caught.

Because if we did… we wouldn't live to regret it.

Draco's POV

The candle between us flickered, its glow casting soft, golden light across Hermione's face. She was watching me carefully, her sharp brown eyes full of thoughts she wasn't saying aloud. We had gone over the plan a dozen times, each of us trying to poke holes in it, to find the weaknesses before my father could.

But I wasn't thinking about the plan anymore.

I was thinking about her.

How she sat across from me, so calm despite everything. How even after all the pain, all the fear, she still had this fire in her that refused to die.

I had spent years mocking her, hating her—or at least telling myself I did. But sitting here, now, in the quiet of the empty manor, I couldn't pretend anymore.

I admired her.

I always had.

"Granger," I said, my voice softer than I intended.

She looked up, startled by the change in my tone. "What?"

I hesitated, pressing my fingers together, feeling the weight of the words before I spoke them. "You know… back at Hogwarts, I thought you were brilliant."

She blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I did," I admitted, shaking my head slightly. "You were always the smartest person in the room. And I hated it."

A small, humorless chuckle escaped me. "You made me feel… stupid sometimes. You never had to try as hard as the rest of us. You just knew things. And it drove me mad because no matter how much I studied, no matter how much I wanted to prove I was better than you—I wasn't."

Hermione stared at me, completely still, as if she didn't know how to respond.

I swallowed hard, running a hand through my hair. "I was awful to you. And I need you to know that I'm sorry, Granger. Really sorry."

A long silence stretched between us.

Then she sighed and leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing circles on the wooden table.

"It's in the past, Malfoy," she said quietly. "And honestly? I don't want to talk about it."

Something in my chest tightened. "You don't?"

She shook her head. "No. Because if I think about Hogwarts, I have to think about everything I lost. And I can't afford to do that right now."

I exhaled slowly, nodding. "Okay."

Another silence, but this one felt different—softer, lighter.

Then, before I could react, Hermione stood up and stepped toward me.

And she hugged me.

It was brief—barely more than a few seconds—but it caught me completely off guard. I froze, my mind short-circuiting as her small frame pressed against mine, warm and real in a way I wasn't expecting.

When she pulled away, I almost reached for her again.

But I didn't.

I just stared at her, stunned, as she gave me a small nod.

"I appreciate what you said," she murmured.

And then she was gone, leaving me in the dim candlelight, trying to remember how to breathe.