Holy Water

AN: I apologize for the sheer length of time in between the updates on this story and Tables Turned. A good friend was killed in Afghanistan recently, and within weeks of that whole ordeal, I had to undergo several surgeries. It's been a roller coaster time, and there hasn't been any time or desire to visit this website. I hope to update more regularly now that my life is less chaotic.


Sorry for the formatting, it should be fixed now.




Any attempts to push Draco away were in vain. He just smiled indulgently, and let her think it was over. She was constantly on edge around him, looking for signs that he was trying to make a move, but she saw none.

He continued to make reports, though there was rarely any useful information in them. Hermione was growing increasingly frustrated; their team was heading nowhere. There had been about seven fights in the past six months, and ten casualties total. The Death Eaters had turned down the havoc they wrecked on the muggle world, all the while, quietly building and training an army.

Albus finally decided that they would lay low as well. Going on offensive would be disastrous right now, they were outnumbered, and out skilled. And so they stepped up their group training to three days a week, with another day specifically designed for one-on-one with one of the instructors. Those who had been there for longer, such as Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were asked to instruct new trainees, to ease the strain on the rest of them. Severus and Lucius were still in charge of the training, given they were the ones to know the Death Eater’s style the best, though they recruited Remus, Albus, Tonks, and Mad-Eye Moody to assist with the personal sessions.

Hermione and Severus never once worked together, though she was thankful. Severus was beautiful when he was dueling, and she knew it would test her resolve. Sessions with Lucius were demanding, but easy. They kept up a playful banter, Hermione deciding that, for now, she would accept this change in him. Occasionally, he would snap out a word too sharply, but her quick wit and sharp tongue almost always put him in his place. The first time he had grown frustrated with her, he’d questioned her ability to perform magic as well as a pureblood. Hermione knew in that instant that he didn’t mean it, even as the words were rushing out of his mouth, he cringed.

However, she wasn’t one to let insults slide, not anymore. “Need I remind you, dear father-in-law, that I scored higher than both you and your son in every single test of my magical abilities. Any insult on my intelligence reflects poorly on you both. How about next time you think before opening your mouth.”

He’d just stared, then nodded. “I apologize, my words were spoken in anger.”

They’d reached a truce that day.

Training sessions with Remus were straining, but only because he demanded a hefty array of spells from his trainees. They, more often than not, were given five to ten spells to learn each time, and were expected to be proficient in their use, and to be able to shield against them. Hermione found Tonks fun, and always looked forward to their matches. The eccentric woman loved Hermione’s knife work, and always pushed her to be physically stronger, and more flexible, to better be able to attack her opponent. Mad-Eye definitely frightened her, with his eye whirling about. She never attempted to bring knives or spare wands to that fight, he always saw them and made sure to rid her of those things first.

Albus, however, was the most demanding. She hated those fights, because it felt wrong to be attacking the headmaster. He was the only other person she had met who could physically section off their magic, like she could. He pushed her, until she was too exhausted to manage an accio, pressed her on until her magic was almost completely depleted. She learned to hold a section of the magic back, and use that to regenerate her reserves. Those sessions could last for several hours, nonstop, leaving her absolutely limp with exhaustion.

By the time Christmas break came, she felt stronger than she had ever been in every way. Their group sessions were no longer one-on-one dueling, side by side, but were now split into teams. Their size had grown to nearly seventy, total. Ginny and the rest of her spell work group had created a communication device, along the lines of the coin Hermione developed, back during her school years with the DA. It went around the fighter’s ankle, and as long as it was touching their skin, they could communicate through their thoughts.

It didn’t pick up everything they thought, which was good. Hermione knew they all had their own secrets, and it wasn’t right to have them broadcast for all of the others to hear. They had to almost physically direct their thoughts through the connection, which was easiest for her. It was similar to how she focused and controlled her magic.

Once they got the hang of the charms, fighting in groups became almost like breathing.

At first, it had been students versus students. Those fights were entertaining, because they often wound up in verbal bashes, complete with your-momma jokes. Then, Lucius decided to try instructors versus students. They had a large array of students that day. It was rare when every single Order member could make each meeting, so a total of thirty-five was quite a feat.

Hermione had been one of the first to be knocked out, facing a combined onslaught from Severus and Mad-Eye that she couldn’t defend against.

The students had been demolished in less than a minute.

“Ugh, that was ridiculous,” she heard Ron muttering, rubbing the small of his back. “And here I thought we were doing well. Thirty-five versus six, and we’re slaughtered.”

Several others laughed, and the next fight, they managed to take out Tonks, before their entire force was taken apart.

Draco deviously called everyone together an hour before their third training session, everyone meeting just off the grounds, around the edge of the forest.

“Okay. We can’t take all six of them like this. We need to group this better,” he began, before singling out several members, and then tapping his chin. Harry instantly caught on with what he was doing, and jumped up to help. The two muttered together like conspirators, before turning back to face the others.

Hermione thought it was brilliant, what they had planned. Draco and Harry had assigned each one of them a job, and assigned between three and six of them to one of the instructors. They decided that Albus was a lost cause, the man was much more powerful than anyone but Harry, who was far from having the self-control to match the headmaster.

The group dispersed, most apparating back home so they could arrive by floo, and not look suspicious. Hermione and Draco trudged up together, taking care to disillusion themselves and avoid any students. The snow fell heavily on the ground, and Hermione suspected the students remaining in the castle were a bit closer to the impromptu ice-skating pond Minerva had transfigured.

Hermione missed the elderly woman, and resolved to make more time to see her. Minerva almost never participated in the training sessions. She was skilled enough to knock Lucius flat on his backside, as Hermione had seen once, without even blinking. The transfiguration professor instead helped Ginny’s team, and aided Hermione and Severus in their tactical ideas.

Upon arriving in the room, Lucius announced that they would try the group fight again, teachers versus students. Nobody exchanged any looks, nothing that gave their plan away. Hermione’s head was swimming from the thoughts and cheers that were racing through it via the anklet, and groaned inwardly.

‘Kick his ass!’ Ron growled to Mad-Eye.

‘You and me both,’ Draco threw in. An image of a ferret crossed through everyone’s minds, and laughter erupted. Even though it wasn’t really Mad-Eye who had turned him into a ferret, Draco still held a grudge. A few odd looks were thrown their way by the instructors, who had no insight as to why the group in front of them burst out laughing.

‘Well Draco, I’m hoping to take your damn father down a few notches,’ came Harry’s voice, echoed by both of the Weasley twins, and Lavender. More than a few people had bones to pick with the blonde.

‘You guys ready?’ Charlie thought quickly, as the sides prepared to begin. Several dozen voices responded with a yes, though with varying degrees of certainty.

“Begin!”

The room erupted so quickly that all Hermione could think was ‘Holy shit!’

Curses flew, both verbally in the form of magic, and mentally, as obscenities. Hermione barely had time to notice that the first target, Remus, was already down and out. Nobody even paused, and a moment later, Tonks was gone, as well as Lavender, Neville, and Bill. Hermione summoned her strength, able to gain control of it in less than a second now. The group waited for Harry’s command, and when it came, the shields were thrown up by their defensive team with all the effort they had, as the strongest threw each of their favorite curses at their chosen target.

Hermione ignored Albus, knowing he would be able to deflect her easily enough. She waited the beat for Harry’s mental voice, ‘Now!’ he shouted, before the remaining members threw so many curses simultaneously that it was impossible to pick out any one voice.

The result was astounding. All but Albus and Lucius were incapacitated, as well as half their side. Hermione quickly decided to try something new, since she was still standing. With her remaining magic, she created a physical barrier around those remaining, telling the left over students to attack yet again.

Lucius shouted something indecipherable, to which Draco immediately thought, ‘Oh, you son of a bitch’, but it was too late. The spell rebounded off Hermione’s wall, nailed him firmly in the gut, and fifteen wands were trained on Albus. Nobody wanted to be the first to curse the headmaster, who quickly raised his hands in defeat, pocketing his wand.

The room was silent, and Hermione dropped the wall, collapsing with it. Nobody moved. Everyone removed their curses from their opponents, forcing themselves up so they could look at each other. And still nobody said anything, at least out loud.

The cheering and mental high fives going through Hermione’s head made a grin spread, even as she gasped for a full breath.

“Well then,” Albus said, once everyone was back to a standing position. “I think I speak for all of us when I say well done. That was truly amazing, what you did. I haven’t seen coordination like that in ages, and you have greatly humbled me. I don’t know that, even with my experience, I could have stood up to those of you that had me at the end.”

“I’m joining your side, next time,” Tonks muttered, and the room erupted in laughter.

Congratulations were offered, and each of the instructors was allowed to give their input. They could only offer variations on “well done”, although Albus, with a twinkle in his eyes, asked if they intentionally avoided him. Glances were exchanged, before Draco shrugged.

“None of us thought we were strong enough to take you out without dividing us up so that we neglected the others. We left a few to deflect your curses, but focused our efforts on the ones we could take.”

“There’s the illusion,” Albus pointed out. “I know I can defend myself against several of you, but the fifteen at the end could have taken me out. Don’t hesitate. You don’t know my strength. You don’t know Voldemort’s strength. I can tell you that he will be much more difficult than I will, and he will not be as kind as myself. Practice on me, know how much of your concentration it takes to hit me, because you’ll need that level when it comes time for Voldemort.”

The information was digested, and then, with a clap of his hands, the mood in the room lightened and Albus straightened.

“Take this weekend off, everyone,” he said. “You’ve been working nonstop, and deserve a bit of time to yourselves.”

With that, the two groups splintered, Harry and Ron maneuvering their way to where Draco was standing, grabbing Hermione’s hand and pulling her along. Neville sidled over, as well as Charlie and three friends of his from his school days. Harry and Draco found themselves the center of the attention.

In that moment, Hermione watched Harry sling an arm around Draco’s shoulder, and any differences they’d had were gone. From that moment forward, Draco had become as much a member of their family as she had.

She hated it.

Throughout the rest of the winter, and well into the spring, they continued training. Draco was a permanent fixture at the Weasley dinners, and had been the first to hug Molly, much to her surprise. Tears had glistened in her eyes, but she held them back until nobody was looking. The guys all held impromptu Quidditch matches, pitting both seekers against each other. They did shots of firewhiskey together, laughing whenever one of them slurred their speech.

Hermione held the resentment in, but it was slowly getting harder to ignore. He hadn’t come over for a movie night in a while, so when he showed up at her apartment again, she simply glared at him.

“Don’t I see enough of you already?” she snapped, not even bothering to feel bad about being rude. She was sick of seeing him everywhere. He was always at training, always devising new plans with Harry. He came to each of the Weasley family dinners, always towing a few cases of some foreign beer for the adults, which were quite a hit.

He looked bewildered. “I’ve been avoiding you as much as possible.”

“No, you haven’t,” she responded hotly, dropping the wards with a wave of her wand so he could step into the living room. “You’re everywhere. I don’t think I’ve gone more than forty-eight hours without seeing you in months!”

“Well, there isn’t much I can do about that. I go to the same training sessions you do,” he bit out.

“It’s not just the training,” she spat, her voice rising. “When you’re not at Order meetings, you’re here, reporting something. When I go out with my best friends, you’re there. When I go to the Weasley dinners, you’re there. Jesus Christ, the only place you haven’t been is my parents’, and they’re demanding I bring you there! I can’t get away from you! You’re like this permanent attachment in my life, and my apartment is the only place I can be alone…”

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes stung. ‘What the fuck?’ she thought, angrily dashing the unwelcome tears away.

He was silent for a few beats, before rolling his shoulder in an agitated gesture. “I didn’t realize it bothered you so much. I assumed we were friends. It’s nice, to be able to be with people my own age, and not have any secrets to hold in. They all know where I go when I have to leave, and nobody asks questions when I come back.”

And then guilt came crashing in, and Hermione resented it with a fury that burned. “See, now I feel like I’m the one who’s wrong. Christ, who am I to deny you that? You seem happy,” she added, ruefully. “Happier than I’ve ever remembered you, since I found out that your mother was dead. Your father laughs a lot, almost like he’s amazed that he can do it.”

Draco was a bit perturbed. This was what he wanted, to be so much a part of Hermione’s life that when the war ended, there was no pushing him back out. He just didn’t think of what the down side would be.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

She shrugged, pausing a bit while trying to put it into words. “I think it’s because they’re all so accepting of you. You’re just another part of the group now. And… yeah, it bothers me because I feel as though, if any of them knew about Severus and I, they wouldn’t be as welcoming. Everyone sees the two of us as a unit now, like Harry and Ginny or Molly and Arthur. But we’re not; this marriage is just a farce. It’s wrong, and I resent you for so easily working your way into the place that I used to want for someone else.”

Draco wondered what that stabbing pain was. It was almost akin to the one he felt when he’d found out about his mother’s death, and the time he saw his father’s lifeless body.

“That was so callous of me,” she muttered, turning away. “I’m sorry, it’s not that you’re not welcome, it’s just that… I don’t know.”

He offered her a small smile, before grabbing her hand and tugging her into a hug. She stiffened, relaxing when she realized he was not going to kiss her. “Come on, could you really imagine Severus drinking and having fun with the Weasley clan?”

She grinned at that. Severus would’ve rather drank butuber pus than go to those events. Draco stepped away, procuring a DVD. “Want to watch?” he said, waving it around. Hermione shrugged.

“Sure why not. Want to call some delivery?”

They were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione barely noticed the movie, instead turning various bits of information over in her head, trying to see her situation from a different light. By the time the evening was over, she knew it was time to go see Severus.



When she finally caught him alone, it was well into the spring, and the weather was warming, slowly giving way to summer. He’d been avoiding her, that much she knew. Her annoyance with Draco had died down, and the two were back to being friends.

However, the conversation with Severus was going dismally. He was completely closed off, and it was like they had never been more than acquaintances. Hermione finally snapped, and crossed her arms over her chest to keep from throwing something glass and destructible.

“You have to let me know what’s going on, damnit. We’ve already established that, when I’m single again, we’re going to pick up where we left off. Right now, though, I keep thinking that you don’t want that anymore. You don’t want to be alone with me, that’s fine. But you’re treating me like a stranger, and it’s really getting on my nerves. I can’t keep doing this, it’s tearing me in two.”

He just stared, the silence pressing down on her, and she felt like she was suffocating.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hermione. I’m entirely selfish, and I want you for myself. But I’m beginning to wonder if that is how it’s supposed to be. We barely even know each other, and you’re chasing after something that could be. Don’t ignore what is.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back. “Seriously? What in the hell are you talking about? I knew before this started that you were the one I wanted, why would this change? And ignore what is? What?” She was so confused; it was proving difficult to be angry.

Severus just shook his head. “You’re throwing away all other options. I don’t want you to pick me because I’m the only thing you tried.” Scratch that, anger was only the beginning. She was right, he had been letting Draco have his shot at her. He was treating her like a toy that two children might fight over.

“You’re a bastard,” Hermione whispered, after a few seconds. “You’re not the first man I’ve been with, so don’t pat yourself on the back for doing the noble thing and making sure I’ve tested the waters, or some bullshit. I know what I want. Man up and decide for yourself.”

She turned and left the lab, cursing in her head, and decided that a visit with Ginny was long overdue.

Upon arrival at the home, she found her friend putting the twins down for a nap. They were almost seven months old, and growing bigger every day. The redhead grinned widely at the interruption, and eagerly ushered Hermione into the living room, settling in for some gossip.

“Well, I really need your advice,” Hermione began, picking at her sweater. Ginny urged her to go on, listening attentively as the whole story spilled out. When Hermione was silent again, Ginny just shook her head.

“Your life invites nothing but trouble,” she joked, bringing a small smile to Hermione’s face. “I don’t know what to say. I know you and Severus go well together, but who knows how you would work in the long run. You and Draco have maintained relatively good terms, as long as you’ve been married, but who knows what it’ll be like when the war’s over, and you don’t have the fight to keep you two civil.”

She shrugged, tapping her chin, as though searching for a proper answer. “Well, if this is what Severus wants, why not give Draco a chance? Merlin knows he seems to be trying. You can still make you choice, as long as your heart isn’t wrapped up in either of them.”

Hermione held up her hands in frustration. “There isn’t a choice! If I could do what I wanted right now, I would divorce Draco and be with Severus.”

Ginny just shook her head, trying to show some sympathy for Hermione. “And you’re sure he still wants you back?”

“Yes. Or I think so,” she backtracked. “He said he still wanted me, he just didn’t think it was the right way anymore. He wanted me to give Draco a shot.”

Ginny sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. I, personally, would try and make it work with Draco – it seems like he’s the one who’s crazier about you than Severus. You’ve turned him down a few times, but he still comes back.” She paused, and laughed a bit. “But then again, I knew from the moment I met Harry that he would be the one for me. My advice is a bit biased, I’m a closet romantic.”

Hermione smiled. “If only it were that easy.” However, it struck her – Draco was the one making an effort, even when he knew that he had no chance. Severus wasn’t even trying.

She left that evening, more confused than ever, only to find Draco waiting in her foyer for her to drop the words, reading a book she’d left on the table.

“What are you doing here?” she asked mildly.

He looked up, waving the paperback towards her. “You have interesting taste in books. Get dressed, something nice.” She finally realized he was in dress robes.

“What’s up?”

“We’re acting again,” he reminded her, and a flush crept up her cheeks, having long since forgotten about tonight’s “date”. Hermione dropped the wards, and went to her room to pick out a nice cocktail dress. It was nearly summer, so she could get away with something knee length. Emerging once more, Draco looked her up and down, nodding. “Let’s go.”

They had gone on several mock dates, most often to dinner, and some sort of after event, whether a play, the cinema, etc. Tonight, they would be watching a fireworks’ display. The evening was cool, but not cold enough that Hermione wished she’d worn pants. They sat on a blanket he’d conjured, against a tree. Hermione spotted someone she suspected to be a death eater, asking Draco silently through the link made by the charm.

‘Yeah, there’s one over there. I’m surprised there aren’t more; usually Voldemort gives me a hard time because you never seem like you’re having fun.’

‘Well, I’m not!’ she retorted. ’This isn’t fun, being carted around, shown off like some stupid bimbo. And knowing that Voldemort’s watching just doubles the annoyance.’

He just laughed, and slung an arm around her.

Hermione returned home, and instantly knew something was wrong. Her ward was down, and a note written in Harry’s scrawl said, Come, now.

Draco noticed it, and immediately the two strode to the fireplace, stepping in with a shouted destination. When they landed, a bit dizzy and covered in dust, they were in the meeting room, halfway filled with Order members.

“Hermione, Draco,” Albus said in a quiet voice. “Are you all right?”

Draco nodded, and Hermione quickly calculated the glances in the room. Someone was in trouble. And it could be any myriad of people; there was barely a quarter of the Order present in the room.

“Have you heard from your father, or Voldemort, tonight?” Albus asked Draco. The blonde shook his head, but rolled up his sleeve to check. The dark mark rested faintly against his skin, and Hermione felt her stomach lurch. She’d seen it on Severus dozens of times, but never paid attention it on Draco, even when he was shirtless and being healed. She was a bit startled – had he always worn long sleeves?

‘Yes,’ he whispered, a small word meant only for her. She cursed, and shut her mind off to the charm.

“Hermione, Draco,” Albus began, turning to wave Minerva to a seat as she stepped into the room, carrying a mug of something steaming. “Lucius disappeared this afternoon. He was strolling the grounds, when Bellatrix Lestrange appeared. She stunned him, we believe, before he even knew she was there.”

“Where is Severus?” Hermione whispered, wondering if the dark haired professor had gone after his friend.

Albus shook his head. “He is down in the labs. He is coming up with a plan and taking necessary precautions before leaving to find Lucius.”

“I’m going with him,” Draco said immediately, his voice steely. Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and she could see the muscles of his arm bunching and smoothing out. His whole body continually tensed and relaxed, though he didn’t shift his weight once.

Albus nodded, not bothering to try and talk him out of it. Harry stood, and Draco held up his hand, forestalling the inevitable chiming in the others might have. “You can’t come, nobody can. If I want to make it out of this alive, and I do, I can’t bring anyone else with me.”

With that, he turned and strode from the room, his head silent. Normally Hermione caught a few stray tendrils of thought coming from him, something she attributed to his relaxed state around them, but had never wanted to ask anyone else about it. Now, he was silent.

Hermione stayed for a few minutes, before Harry came to her side and pulled her away. He let her know that they were heading home, waiting for word. Holed up in the Order meeting room, they were all sheltered from anything of the outside world, though nobody expected to hear news of Lucius. Only the core group of the Order knew he was alive.

Hermione left to floo home, the tips of her fingers and toes feeling cold. She hated this feeling, the terrifying chill of fear that always crept into her limbs. She rubbed her hands together and stepped into the fireplace, spinning out the other side and tripping over her heeled shoes, immediately righting herself and kicking them off.

Draco was there, sitting on the couch, playing an album she recognized as Coldplay. He had never been one for the music, and she wondered if it was playing simply because it was the playlist that first popped up on her iPod, something he barely knew how to work. His head rested in his hands, and he had his sleeve rolled up, as though waiting for a summons from Voldemort.

She set a pot to boil on the stove, busying herself with mindless tasks. She had long since accepted that Draco came here to be alone, something she found a bit odd. As far as she knew, he had never been here without her. She was pretty sure he didn’t know her wards, just that they were set to accept his presence. She had developed a new spell that nobody knew of yet, making it nearly impossible for anyone but a skilled ward crafter to break. Once it went public, people would devote their time to cracking it, which is why she kept this one completely silent, and probably always would, constantly changing nuances or intonation to the spell, so that nobody could work on a counter to it over a long period of time. Someone with extreme power could crack it with little effort, such as Albus, or Harry. Or Voldemort.

He quietly thanked her for the tea, not really bothering to move from his position on the couch. His feet had been kicked up, effectively occupying all three cushions, but she didn’t mind. She went into the next room, booting up her computer and checking her e-mail. It was mundane activities like these, combined with the warm tea, which calmed her nerves and returned warmth to her extremities.

Nearly thirty minutes later, she was bored of the internet, and stood to take her empty mug into the kitchen. Draco had disappeared, though she found him boiling yet another pot on the stove, tea leaves sitting in the strainer in his empty mug.

“I don’t know if I’m going to make it through tonight alive,” he muttered. “Severus told me to leave, he couldn’t work with me there.”

She just leaned against the counter, not sure of how to comfort him. No emotion was displayed on his face as he went through the motions of preparing another cup of tea, making her a second without asking. He turned to her, anguish showing this time.

“I don’t want to die, but I can’t live knowing that I didn’t try and rescue my father. I finally have something I enjoy in my life again, and I’m facing the real possibility that it’ll end tonight.”

“What do you mean?” She knew he meant his new friendships, but she wanted to keep him talking.

“The Order, the Weasley family, the security.” He glanced over. “You, this. You know how I feel about you. It’s still there.” His eyes burned into hers. ‘Cold is definitely gone’, she thought, flushing hotly. Yeah, now she felt scorched all over.

‘Cold?’

Shit.

He laughed, though he was no less terrifying. Hermione wanted to step back, but she knew that a corner was behind her, and that was asking for trouble. Sidestepping would distract him from talking, and she could sense a slight mania building around the edges of his mind.

“That’s what I adore about you. The first time I heard you curse was when Severus told my father and I that he was an Order member as well. I loved hearing that, just because you always seemed this pristine little girl back in school, too terrified to toe the line. Now I know that you’re just like the rest of us. You know how to use the big boy words, and aren’t afraid to do it.”

‘What?’

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it, hon.” He stepped back, and picked up his cup of tea. The moment had passed, and though he was still tense, she was no longer afraid he’d corner her.

As the thoughts passed through her mind, he set the mug down and stepped forward with such smoothness that she hardly noticed that action. In less than a second, she was shoved against the wall.

‘Shit, shit. Move Hermione, move!’

His hands were on either side of the wall, and he laughed, low. Hermione felt a tendril of fear, and the chill returned to her extremities.

“You think your mind is so well guarded, but it isn’t, not to me. You really must control that.”

With that, his lips crashed down on hers. She stood, tense for a second, but one hand moved to cup her neck, the other wrapping around her waist and pulling her up to him. It felt so good; it had been too long since she’d been touched by anyone.

Hermione knew what she was doing was wrong, and knew that they were both using each other, but her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to her, stepping up on her toes. The kiss deepened, tongues dueling.

She could hear his mind now, and instantly wished she had ripped the damn charm off her ankle, but it was too late now. Her own thoughts were flooded with a rush of incoherent words and feelings, until she couldn’t tell her own from his. The overwhelming one, however, was desire.

‘Yes,’ he hissed mentally, moving his mouth to her neck and biting down harshly. He moved to the strap of her dress, biting the smooth expanse of shoulder underneath it, then gently licking the wound.

“Draco,” she whispered, the sound of her own voice firming her resolves. “I shouldn’t do this.”

However, he returned to her mouth, and suddenly she felt the growing hardness pressing against her hip, and she unconsciously shifted so that it pressed deliciously against her center, a rush of warmth flooding her body.

“Please,” he muttered against her lips. He pulled back, though he left his hips against hers. ‘You’re all I’ve wanted for months.’ “I know Sev is the one you want,” he murmured. ‘I’ll walk away.’

It took half a second to process the words and thoughts. She tried to push the desire away, but it was coiled too tightly in her belly, waiting to overtake her. She was obsessed with what could be, but wasn’t Draco? He had only gotten to kiss her once, and that kept him going. Suddenly Hermione realized just what everyone had been trying to tell her – Severus could be her future, but Draco was her present. She was wasting it away on a possibility that was growing dimmer with each day. Nobody was expecting forever, at least she hoped Draco wasn’t, but why couldn’t they enjoy themselves right now? Severus wouldn’t leave her because she had been with Draco during their marriage.

He knew her decision instantly, and dragged her back down the tiny hallway to her room. He cast a spell on the anklets, and Hermione recognized the spell Ginny devised to allow one-way communication without concentration – it was hardly useful, except in times like now. Wouldn’t be very nice to flood the other’s minds with their thoughts tonight, though she doubted the charms would work at such a distance.

Hermione almost couldn’t keep up with his steps, but he had her back against the door of her bedroom in a heartbeat, his mouth on hers once more. Hermione moaned, low and throaty, and Draco protested through his mind – his cock hurt from the straining against his pants. If she kept this up, he wouldn’t make it.

Her response was to quickly unbutton his pants. His head hung against her shoulder, relief tangible as the tight restriction of the garment was gone, leaving just a pair of boxers. He kicked his pants off, pulling her dress up to reveal a delicate lace bra, and matching panties.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he mumbled, the words a garbled mess she wouldn’t have understood if she hadn’t seen him imagining ripping them off. The sounds of tearing filled the room, and the cool air hit her nipples, immediately bringing them to stiff peaks that ached. “Merlin,” he muttered, pulling her to the bed and directing her to lie down. Her panties were soaked, and the chill brought a groan through her lips again.

She pulled his lips down to hers, missing the feeling already, though he had only paused for less than a minute. Hermione felt impatient as she divested him of the shirt he’d been dressed in tonight, and ran her hands up his stomach, his chest, to his shoulders, and back down. A hiss escaped his lips as he turned his attention to her left breast, licking and sucking, all the while massaging the other with his hand.

Hermione bucked her hips, gasping loudly as she felt the pressure she was looking for. Draco’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as she repeated the action, and then again. She wanted him inside her, it had been too long. The longing flowing through the charm was fueling her own, which she knew, in turn, pushed his to a frenzy. It was a cycle that would overwhelm her in no time, but she didn’t want to stop the enormous pleasure it brought.

She quickly pulled his boxers down, lifting her hips so her own underwear could be pulled off. He glanced to her, meeting her eyes as he slid one finger inside her, then another, his cock twitching at the heat and wetness.

When he slid his length into her, Hermione bit her bottom lip at the exquisite feeling. It was like relief and torment, all rolled into one. His lips kissed the bite mark he’d made, then met hers, moving slowly as she rolled her hips into him, wrapping her legs around him.

He tortured her with slow strokes, though Hermione felt his control slipping. She pushed back through the link, hoping to burst the control. His hips bucked forward, harshly, burying himself to the hilt. A noise escaped her lips, and she wanted him to do it again.

"Beg," he whispered back, returning to the slow, controlled movements.

Hermione groaned, desperately rolling her hips, unhooking her legs and using them as leverage to try and press him into her. She had always loved rough sex, though she hated having to ask for it. She felt like a freak, and it often frightened away prospective lovers. Draco held himself back, repeating his command. His mind was a flurry of incoherence, but he managed to stick to his guns on this one.

“Please, Draco,” she cried quietly, her hands moving down to his hips, pulling almost frantically.

‘Please, what?’

She cursed him, and was rewarded with a sharp jerk of his hips. So it turned him on when she uttered obscenities?

“Fuck me,” came her response. “Hard. Make me scream, make me come so hard I see stars.”

He sat up before she could finish, hooking her legs over his shoulders, readjusting his body. He bent back down, and Hermione briefly thanked her flexibility, as her knees were now nearly tucked to her shoulders. It was an unusual position to be in, but when he pounded the first stroke into her, she couldn’t help but shout, stars appearing before her eyes.

His eyes met hers as he thrust in as far as he could reach, one hand moving to cup her breast, pressing gently. Her hand flew up, covering his, squeezing harshly. He pinched her nipple, and she cried out at the tingles it sent down her body. The sounds she made were driving him wild, and he could hear his own echoed groans. Hermione was uninhibited, staring at him, her eyes dark and cloudy. Her hands were tracing trails of fire as she explored the lines of his body.

Her little moans, the noises she was making, the way she bit her lip, it was undoing him much too quickly. She knew he didn’t want it to end so soon, but it had been too long for both of them. Draco reached over, rubbing his thumb on her clit, and Hermione cried out, her back arching off the bed, her muscles clenching up. The pleasure washed over her, and she clenched the sheets, his hair, pulling him down so his lips could meet hers in a kiss that took her breath away. He came with a shout, pressing himself into her one last time.

She felt him roll onto the bed next to her, one arm slung over her waist. Both panted from the exertion, sweaty and exhausted.

“We’ll have to do that again,” he muttered, rolling to face her. She smiled lazily, winding her hand through his hair.

“Yes, I have to agree.”

They laughed, and laid there for a good half an hour, not quite ready to fall asleep, but not wanting to move.
They were startled out of the calm mood by Hermione’s cell phone ringing. She groaned, and Draco looked perplexed.

“What the hell is that?”

She grabbed the phone, frowning. “It’s my cell phone. Nobody calls me on it, at least not this late.” It was Harry. She debated, before Draco glanced at the name that was read out.

“Does that mean Harry’s calling you?”

Hermione nodded, and he sat up on his elbow.

“Are you going to answer it?”

Ugh.

“Harry, what’s up?”

“Come now, you and Draco. Lucius is back.”

He hung up, and Hermione flung herself from the bed, relaying the message to a confused Draco. The moment he heard the words, he was up, grabbing his clothes. Hermione quickly cast cleaning charms, hoping they’d do the trick. She glanced in the mirror, magically fixing her hair the best she could, covering up the bruises. Draco gave her a look, to which she responded with a scowl.

“I don’t think now’s the best time to explain that we finally consummated our marriage. It’s nobody’s business, besides.”

They hurried out, traveling once more by floo to the school. When they came out, the only other ones in the room were Harry and Albus.

“Your father’s in the medical wing, go find Madam Pompfrey, she will direct you to him. He is going to make it.”
Draco thanked the headmaster as he tore from the room, heading out. Hermione glanced to Harry’s solemn face, to Albus’ grave one. “Is there anything else?” she asked quietly, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Severus left after he sent Draco away. He hoped that Bellatrix had held on to Lucius, hoping to torture him before she turned him over to Voldemort.”

“Where is he?” she cried, automatically striding to the door to go find him.

When silence met her, she stopped, turning, her heart sinking. Cold was returning to her limbs. Oh no.

“He isn’t coming back. Lucius appeared at the gates ten minutes ago. Severus showed up at Bellatrix’s, and killed Rudolphous immediately. He dueled Bella, giving Lucius time to retrieve his wand. Bellatrix… she used the killing curse, tried to get Lucius before he could get his wand. Severus took the curse, and Lucius killed her.”

Hermione’s heart sank, and she felt like she was going to collapse. Her legs shook, and she couldn’t seem to find her fingers.

'What’s wrong?'

She forgot that the charm was still attuned to Draco only.

'Severus is gone.'

Silence. Draco was trying to process what she’d said.

And then the tears came. Images flooded her head, of Severus. He was dead; he had died to save them, to protect his best friend.

“Lucius returned his body to us, and said Bella didn’t alert Voldemort yet.”

She didn’t realize she was sobbing on the floor until she felt arms encircling her, hugging her closely. It was Harry, trying his best in his awkward way to soothe her. Albus was flooing Poppy, telling her to prepare another bed.

Hermione felt herself being lifted off the ground, and tried to force the tears to stop. However, the flood of images was too much, and a fresh wave of tears choked her.

She was vaguely aware of Poppy forcing a potion down her throat, not really noticing when the tears stemmed, and she nodded off.





Draco stared at his father’s sleeping form, torn between the man lying in the bed before him, and the woman sleeping in the one next to them. He settled for sitting between the two cots, waiting for someone to wake.

He glanced at the charred stub where his father’s left arm had been, before feeling bile rise and looking away. Bellatrix had melted the flesh off. Poppy couldn’t grow him a new arm for quite some time without knowing the spell – she would have to wait a year, to make absolutely sure there would be no fatal interactions between magic and potions. Lucius hadn’t lost consciousness, Bella never allowed that, but he had retreated from the torture, and thus had missed a number of the spells she’d cast on him. Poppy assured Draco that there were several temporary options, involving enchanted muggle prosthetics. It was a risky job, and one that couldn’t be done for quite some time.

Draco had heard how Severus had saved his father, from Harry, who had no idea why Hermione had broken down like she did.

He felt like he was going mad, between the silence, his own morbid thoughts, and Poppy’s continual coming and goings. When his father came to, nearly an hour later, Draco rushed to his side. The older man just looked away, not wanting to face the reality of the situation.

When Hermione awoke, she let out a dry sob, rolling away from the others in the room, her shoulders shaking with grief. Her mind was silent this time around, and Draco knew she wanted to spare him from her thoughts.

He walked to her side, laying a hand on her shoulder, ignoring her when she curled up tighter, trying to shy away from his touch.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry love,” he whispered, trying to hug her. She just cried harder, more openly now, and Poppy came rushing into the room. At the heartbreaking sight before her, tears welled in her eyes.

She left the room, immediately returning with several potions, trying to get the hysterical witch to take them. The brunette just pushed the vials away, shouting that she didn’t want them. Poppy stepped back when Draco moved to protect her.

“She needs to take these. Either she takes them, or I’ll have to make her. She’s going to make herself ill.”

Draco promised she would take them, waiting until the woman left the room. His father had pushed himself into a sitting position, and was giving his son a quizzical look. Draco shook his head.

Slowly, minutes later, Hermione’s sobs quieted, until she lay there, breathing slowly. Draco handed her the potions, which she dutifully swallowed, before uncurling and laying back on the hospital bed. Her control over her mind was waning, and Draco could feel what she was going through. It nearly suffocated him, the pain. Her heart was breaking, and each second a new memory of Severus was being twisted into a pair of lifeless eyes, staring at her.

If he didn’t feel these emotions so clearly and know that she was trying to spare him from her internal suffering, he would have been jealous. He finally understood the love she felt for Severus, he could feel it, and her heartbreak made him hurt, for her.

“Please tell me this is a nightmare,” she whispered. “It’s not true. Oh, God.” If she could, Draco knew she would’ve started sobbing again. To his surprise, she reached out to him, clutching his hand as though it could anchor her sanity.

He just held her hand as her eyes closed in obvious pain. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she let out a dry sob, her body shuddering.

Nobody said a word, and the potions took their effect, lulling Hermione into a sleep once more.

“Were they closer than we all knew?” Lucius asked his son dully. Draco nodded, still rubbing her hand even though she was completely knocked out.

“They were… together. Before she and I married. They had hoped to try and make something work after the war, after we divorced, when this damned law gets repealed.”

Lucius visibly balked at the word “divorced”. Was she really planning on doing that? Divorce was such a plebeian act. He ignored that question, concentrating on the larger one. “Together? For how long?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. We rarely talked about it. I think she loved him.”

With that, the conversation fell silent. Hermione slept through the night, and much to Madam Pompfrey’s annoyance, Draco climbed into the bed with her. He sharply reminded the woman that they were married now, effectively shutting off her protests. Lucius smiled a bit, before wincing as she applied a healing cream to the burned off area. Though he couldn’t feel anything, the remembered searing pain and the smell of burning flesh sent waves of nausea through him.

A curtain and a silencing charm had divided off the small group in the hospital wing so no students would know of its inhabitants, and they were left to sleep through the night.





Hermione was released the next day. She returned to her apartment, and sealed the floo shut, as well as blocking any apparation onto the premises. Draco cursed himself for not knowing the address to the place, and her friends were proving unhelpful. Hermione needed some time alone, and that didn’t mean him. She would come out when she was ready.

And so he sat, spending most of his time at Hogwarts, waiting for his father to start talking again. He had fallen almost completely silent, refusing to speak on anything that had happened. They already knew the story; there was no need for retelling.

It was rather painful, waiting for word from someone.

Albus held a private funeral for the teacher, all the while a public search was well underway for the man. Nobody could know what his real fate was, not until after the war’s end. Hermione didn’t attend. Harry said he had texted her, whatever that meant, but she didn’t respond. The students finished up their school year, and summer found Draco more alone than ever. Hermione had disappeared for over six weeks. Her office said she had a family emergency, and Draco couldn’t get her home address out of any of them – mostly because nobody knew it.

He was growing increasingly frustrated. Life was returning to the way it was before he was married, and now that he’d seen what this new life would be like, he couldn’t bear going back to the way it was. The Weasley dinner had been a solemn affair, and it bordered on awkward without her there. Ginny tried to comfort him, but it was useless. He occasionally hung out with Harry, Neville, and some of the Weasley family, but Hermione’s absence was a glaring reminder in their faces that they had clearly missed out on something in her life. He’d even attempted to get together with Pansy, but it had been difficult – his life had changed so much, and while they were almost like siblings, it had been too long since he really talked to her; there wasn’t enough time to have the long talk they needed to.

When Hermione finally did reappear, it was three weeks before their one-year anniversary. She had easily lost 15 kilograms, and looked rather hollow. She attended an Order meeting, but skipped out on the training session. The sessions were much less interesting, without Severus or Lucius training them.

Draco tried to corner her, to get her to talk to him, but she slipped away before he could do so. The next time, he followed her out after the meeting, grabbing her wrist. She spun around, pushing at his arm, her efforts in vain. Her muscles hadn’t been used, and had lost their strength.

“Draco, leave me alone. I’m fine; I just don’t want to see anyone else right now. Can’t you just accept that?”

He searched her eyes. They were dull.

“You’re not fine,” he hissed back. “You look like shit. Will you at least drop the wards so someone can come over?”

“What, so I can deal with everyone’s pity?” she spat. “No thanks. I prefer to mourn my loss in silence.”

Draco stepped back, maintaining contact so she wouldn’t leave. “Pity? Nobody knew anything, remember? Everyone thinks you were good friends. People are a bit confused as to why you’re taking this one so hard, and not the others.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Draco immediately felt awful. He pulled her into a hug, letting her cry. She sat there for a few minutes, her tears finally slowing. “Come on,” she whispered, and he felt the tug of apparation. They were back at her apartment.

She stepped away, going to make some tea. He was shocked when a pair of sweatpants came zooming around his head, followed by a tank top. While the pot boiled, she stripped from her nice jeans and sweater, changing into more relaxed clothing.

“Sorry, hope you don’t mind me changing here.” Her other clothes folded themselves up and flew away. She had been working on her wandless magic, he could tell. It was quite impressive.

“Look. I know you guys are worried. I just… needed some time. To say goodbye, in my own way.” She met Draco’s eyes, handing him a cup of tea. “Severus meant a lot to me, and it’s hard to understand that he’s gone.”

She fell silent, and Draco didn’t know what to say. He missed his godfather more than he could describe, but Hermione’s pain was entirely different, and though it had hurt like hell when his mother had died, he knew that only his father could understand what Hermione was going through. If she was still feeling a fraction of what she let slip in the hospital, it was no wonder that she holed herself away, until it eased.

They sat on the couch, neither able to say anything. Everything that went through Draco’s mind was tactless, callous, or insufficient. Everything that went through Hermione’s head was indescribable.

“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly. “You can’t stay in here alone forever. Your friends miss you, the Order needs you.”

‘And you?’ she thought, thanking her lucky stars for the millionth time that she had ripped that damn charm off. A part of her wanted to cling to him; her wary husband had become a good friend, especially this past year. Another part felt like an unfaithful bride, even though she had only had sex with her husband. She had never promised Severus anything, but somewhere, she felt like she sworn him her heart. A tiny part of her told her that she’d broken that promise by being with Draco.

Somewhere, she knew that it was irrational – he had wanted her to give Draco a fair shot. And she had, and Hermione knew that, had Severus not died, she wouldn’t have felt guilty. But the death of her former mentor changed it all.

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear out the dark thoughts. It was a troubled path her mind was taking, and she was desperate to not go there. Mourning was okay, but this depression was not.

“I know,” she murmured, quite a number of minutes after Draco had posed his question. She had barely remembered what it was about, but she understood the gist.

Draco stood, and Hermione briefly thought he was going to leave, but he instead pulled a DVD off her shelves, turning the TV on and settling back down, this time next to her on the couch. He flung a casual arm over her shoulders, and it was vaguely comforting, to have some human contact.

Hermione sank into his side, grateful for the reassurance, and settled into the movie. It was one of her favorites, though she found it difficult to get into right now. Draco’s occasional laughter shook her side, causing her to shift a few times.

Several hours later, she was surprised to snap awake, the darkness terrifying her. The lights flew on in an instant, blinding her. ‘It’s just your room, idiot,’ she thought, wondering how she’d gotten here. Draco must have levitated her up to the room, and apparated away. Hermione quickly reset her wards to not allow anyone, still unsure of whether or not she wanted company.

Before the thoughts could descend, she shut her eyes, trying to fall back to sleep.