Saving your life

She Apparated to headquarters, but hesitated as she reached for the doorknob. She knew they would be waiting for her, worried, and wanting an explanation on what had happened. What would she say to them? How much of the truth was she ready to share? How much of it was she ready to accept herself?

If it were up to her, she would have stayed by the door forever, just so she wouldn’t have to face anyone, but she knew they would go looking for her, if they hadn’t already. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so with a deep sigh, she opened the door and stepped inside, promising herself it would go fast, and she would be alone in her room in no time.

As she walked down the hallway, she heard voices in the library. Someone said her name, and then Snape’s. Apparently, Harry and Ron were trying to get the others to go looking for her.

“Hermione,” Kingsley’s calm voice called, as she walked by the open door, and as she stopped, she saw both Ron and Harry turn to her startled, and then ran her way.

“What the hell happened?”

“Did that greasy bat hurt you?”

“You should call the Minister, have him arrested or something.”

“Where did you go?”

“What did he do?”

All the questions were drilling their way into her brain, the voices an annoying buzz she just couldn’t keep away.

“Stop,” she whispered, closing her eyes, but they kept on talking. “Stop,” she repeated, much louder this time, and welcomed the silence that finally settled in the room.

She opened her eyes slowly and watched not only Harry and Ron, but also most of the other Weasley boys, Kingsley, Remus, Tonks and a few more Order members staring intently at her, all of them shocked at her behaviour.

“I am fine,” she started, trying to sound calm. “Nothing happened. Professor Snape did not hurt me, and no, we are not turning him in. Whatever needed discussing, it has been done, and it will remain between Professor Snape and me, so there will be no point in nagging,” she said, throwing Ron a meaningful look. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to go up to my room to rest,” she finished, and without giving them time to respond, she turned back around and made her way up the stairs, calmly but quickly, holding her breath until the bedroom door was firmly locked behind her. Then she slid down to the floor, her back against the door, as she rested her head on her knees and let the tears fall.

She had wanted to remember so badly, and now that she did, a part of her wanted those memories to go away again. That would make everything so much easier.

She could still feel her skin tingling from where Snape had touched her, kissed her, and she had felt his need, as deep as hers. But did it mean anything to him? Was he just using her? She could remember him saying it didn’t mean anything, that it was just physical, but that had been so long ago, so much had happened between them since then. Did he still feel the same way?

A memory of their last night together made its way into her mind. She could remember the way he had held her in bed, the way he had whispered her name by her ear. That night, she had been sure he had cared. Then Voldemort had summoned him, and everything was ruined.

The memory charm, the lies, the way he had treated her, the things he had said to others… could she really leave all that behind? Because, after what had happened that day, there was no fooling herself anymore. She was in love with him, even after all the things he had done, she loved him like she had that night, but was that enough? He wasn’t the smart choice, and probably wasn’t the right one, either, and she had to make up her mind. Was he worth fighting for? Was he worth all the pain? Should she just forget the past and listen to her heart, or leave him behind and move on?

A knock on the door startled her, but she welcomed the distraction. She got up, dried the tears away as best she could, and took a deep breath, to calm down.

“Hermione, open up,” Ginny called, and after reaching for her wand and performing a small glam on herself, she let her friend in.

“Are you all right?” Ginny asked seriously, as she stepped inside, but as soon as Hermione nodded in response, all the excitement came back to her voice. “Merlin, is it true? Did you really slap Snape? I cannot believe I missed that!”

“It was nothing, really,” she said, with a sigh. Would she ever hear the end of it?

“Nothing? What are you talking about? Ron told me you charged into the room, called Snape a bastard and slapped him hard on the face. He said the look on the git’s face was priceless.”

“I wasn’t feeling well, I heard him say some nasty things about me, and I overreacted. I never should have hit him.”

“What? You cannot be serious. You are like our new hero, Hermione. We have all dreamt of doing what you did today, don’t you dare regret it,” she said, a look of awe on her face.

“It doesn’t matter, it was still wrong. Violence doesn’t solve anything,” she said, making Ginny groan in frustration. Just a few months ago, if she had heard someone had slapped Snape, she would have probably reacted like Ginny, but now everything was different.

“I think all those pain potions are messing with your brain,” Ginny said, as she got up. “Maybe you really do need to get some rest. I’ll try and keep Ron and Harry away for a few hours,” she said, and Hermione gave her a thankful smile.

As soon as Ginny was out, she locked the door behind her and sat on the bed. Maybe she was right, and all those potions really were messing with her mind. She saw a small pile of clothes on her bed, and reached for them. It was what she had been wearing the previous day. She took the robes and laid them on the bed next to her. The cuts were gone, and so was the blood. It was as if it had never happened.

She was torn between hanging the robes in her closet and throwing them away when she noticed something heavy in the pocket. Trying to keep her pulse steady, she reached inside, her fingers soon touching the cold metal she knew was there.

She pulled the coin Draco had given her, her eyes fixed on it as it lay on the palm of her hand. When Lucius had untied her, back in the cabin, she had used it to call Draco, not sure it would work, since she couldn’t use her wand, but knowing there was no one else she could call.

She was brought back to reality when she took a closer look at the coin. There was a single word written on it, ‘please’ and the numbers had changed, indicating the time it would turn into a Portkey, barely five minutes away.

Was he calling her? Why would he want to make contact? A part of her feared it would be some kind of trap, but the rest knew she could still trust him, for some reason she still could not fully understand.

It was almost time, and she could feel the heat coming from the coin, but what should she do? Her logic was fighting her curiosity, but the second one seemed to be winning. She wanted to know what he had to say, and she needed the answers only he could provide. She hesitantly moved her hand forward, still not sure what she would do, and then reached for her wand again, held it firmly in one hand and with the other finally touched the Portkey.

She held her breath as she was transported away, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she looked around. She was in a large room, mostly empty, except for a chair in one corner, where Draco sat, almost hidden by the shadows.

“You came,” he said, his voice low and calm, and when she turned to him, her wand ready, he held up his hands, showing her he was unarmed. She took another long look at the room, making sure they really were alone, and then finally lowered her wand.

“What do you want?” she asked, dryly.

“I think we need to talk,” he said, as he slowly stood up, but when he took a step closer to her, she stepped back. “I am not going to hurt you, Hermione,” he said, his hands still in plain view. “I just want to talk.” She was already starting to regret her decision.

“Talk?” she asked, her anger flaring again. “And what exactly is it that you want to discuss?”

“I am sorry about what happened, I never meant…”

“You are sorry?” she asked, and then laughed humourlessly. “And what exactly is it that you are sorry about, Malfoy?” she asked, and she saw a hurt look cross his face at her use of his last name. “Are you sorry you lied to me, that you used me? Or maybe you are only sorry I found out, is that it?”

“That’s not…”

“I wonder how you were going to kill me,” she said, interrupting him again. “Were you planning on making it fast, or to drag it on for hours? Would you have stabbed me, like your father did? Taint your hands with my dirty blood?” she asked, and saw the hurt in his eyes her words caused, but that didn’t stop her. She stepped closer, slowly circling him, taunting him. “I don’t think you have the guts for it, not yet. I think you would have used an Unforgivable, do the dirty work from far away. Am I right, Malfoy?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, she simply continued. For some reason, it was making her feel better. “You are just like the rest of them. I don’t know why I ever trusted you, why I ever thought you were different. You lied to me; you were lying the whole time.”

“I was not,” he yelled, stepping closer to her and grabbing her by her shoulders, shaking her.

“Everything you told me was a lie. You just wanted information,” she continued, watching the rage, the guilt, the desperation on his face.

“That’s not true. I never betrayed you. I never told her anything,” he said, still shaking her until she pushed him away.

“And why should I believe you now?”

“You don’t have to believe me, you know the truth. Even if you don’t see it now, you know it,” he said, and she remained silent. It was true. “My aunt forced me to contact you, told me what to say; she would have killed me if I had refused. But everything else was true,” he said, regaining some of his control, although he still sounded a bit desperate.

“Even if it were true, it doesn’t matter any more.”

“Then what does? I helped you in everything I could. I saved you and your friends when the Death Eaters went after you.”

“Were you the one to tell them where to find us too?”

“Of course not,” he said, apparently surprised by her question.

“Then how did they know where to find us?”

“I have no idea, but I did not tell them.”

They stayed in silence for a few moments, Draco’s eyes searching her face for some kind of understanding, of forgiveness.

“Last night,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he stepped closer to her, his hand tentatively reaching forward, until his fingers touched the place where her wounds had been. “I helped you, remember?”

“You helped your father as well,” she said, but the anger was almost gone by then.

“I had to. Severus would have killed him, and even if he hadn’t, the Aurors would have.”

“He deserves it.”

“Maybe, but he is my father. I cannot let that happen.”

“He will come back. He will find me, and the next time, I might not be able to call for help.”

“He won’t hurt you again, I promise,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on her belly, where his fingers remained.

“Why weren’t you there? When Severus called the Order, why did you leave?”

“He had killed my aunt; it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord found out. I had to make sure my mother was safe.”

“Of course,” she said, and took a step back, watching his hand fall back to his side, and his eyes meet hers again.

“I knew he would take care of you, I knew you would be safe. If the Aurors had found me, they would have arrested me, and then I would not have been able to help anyone.”

“I think you are only helping yourself, Draco.”

He watched her in silence for a few moments, and then moved to retrieve something from his pocket. She didn’t even bother lifting her wand; she knew he was not going to hurt her.

“Remember this?” he said, as he lifted his hand, Hufflepuff’s cup resting on his palm. “I got this because you asked me to.”

She didn’t speak, her eyes fixed on the small cup. She was surprised when he stepped forward and offered it to her. She lifted her eyes to his, questioningly, and he nodded. After a few moments, she took it and put it away in her own pocket, not even bothering to check if it was the real cup. She knew it was.

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, “but I am sure the Dark Lord will be furious when he finds out it is gone; and he is bound to find out soon.”

“Will he know it was you that took it?”

“Maybe not right away, but it will not take him long to figure it out. My aunt dead, both my parents missing… even if I return to him, he will still know it was me.”

“Then don’t go back; the Order can help you. Now your mother is safe, what keeps you there?”

“It is not that easy. You can’t just quit. It is a life sentence.”

“It doesn’t have to be. We will win this war, and then you can be free again.”

“If he finds out what I did, it will not matter how much protection you can offer. He will find me, and he will make me wish I were dead.”

“Give me some time, let me arrange a meeting. We can protect you.”

“Time is precisely what I don’t have. Severus thinks I am working for the Dark Lord, and he will make sure I am dead before his cover can be blown.”

“I will talk to him then. I will make him understand,” she offered, and he smiled for a moment.

“Why do you care about what happens to me?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his eyes locked on hers, searching for the answer.

“I don’t know,” she answered, with a small shrug, and was surprised, to watch him lean closer and tilt his head to the side, to kiss her.

“Don’t,” she said, when his lips were less than an inch away, and he stopped, looking down at his chest, where her wand was pressing firmly. “I might believe you are on our side, or want to be, but that doesn’t change what you did. You lied to me, and you used me; I cannot forget that.”

He smiled at her again as he pulled back.

“Maybe some day you will. I will do my best to make sure that happens.”

“Keep your coin with you,” she said, quickly changing the subject, wanting to end that conversation before it could begin. “I will talk to someone in the Order, and then contact you again. I am sure we can reach an agreement.”

“If you think so, then I will do as you ask,” he said, with a small nod.

“How do I get out of here?” she asked then, looking around the room, wondering if she would be able to simply Apparate away.

“Activate the Portkey,” he said, and with a nod, she waved her wand over the coin and felt her body being transported away, back to headquarters.

Her bedroom materialized in front of her again, and the sound of movement behind her startled her; she turned around quickly, wand ready for whatever she might find there.

“Dear Merlin,” she gasped, when she found herself face to face with Kingsley, his wand aimed in her direction.

“Hermione,” he said, in recognition, and lowered the wand. After a few seconds, she did the same.

“What are you doing here?” she asked her hand moving to her chest as she willed her heart beats to go back to normal.

“I came up here, wanting to talk to you, and imagine my surprise when I find the room locked and warded, and no one inside.”

She looked at him for a moment, before saying, “Draco Malfoy called me.”

“He did?” he asked, looking slightly surprised. When she nodded, he continued. “And you just went to see him, alone?”

“I already told you, I trust him.”

“I can see that.”

“In fact, I needed to talk to you about that.”

“I am all ears,” he said, as he walked back to the door and leaned against it.

“He needs protection, and so does his mother. I am sure he will help our side, if we can keep him safe.”

“Keep him safe,” he said, thoughtfully. “In how much trouble is he, exactly?”

“Not in as much as he will be soon, once his Master discovers he has been helping us. Me.”

“Given Severus’ attitude towards him, protecting him might be a bit difficult.”

“Yes, he is afraid Snape will tell Voldemort he is a traitor, to protect his own cover.”

“Severus’ work is risky. He will do whatever it takes to stay alive, and remain a spy. If he doesn’t trust Draco, then he is in a world of trouble.”

“I can talk to Snape, and convince him Draco is on our side.”

“You sound very confident. Severus is not an easy man to manipulate.”

“I will make sure he understands. But Draco will need some convincing; he is not sure the Order can protect him.”

“I am not sure he is worth the risk.”

“Just talk to him, hear what he has to say. Just give him an opportunity.”

“He lied to you before, Hermione. He tried to infiltrate us.”

“I trust him, Kingsley. I hope you trust me enough to do this. Please.”

“All right,” he sighed, after a few moments. “How do we do this?”

“We don’t have much time, can you go now?”

“Go where?”

“Here,” she said, handing him the coin. “It’s a Portkey. That will take you to him.”

“I hope you are right about him, Hermione, and about Severus too.”

“Could you call Snape here, before leaving?” she asked, and he smiled at her, waving his wand, making the silvery mist of a Patronus appear in front of him for a second, before vanishing again.

“He should be here soon.”

“Thank you, Kingsley,” she said, and he smiled at her again.

“We will talk about this when I return,” he said, and she stepped closer to him, and used her wand to activate the Portkey again.

She watched the spot Kingsley had just vacated for a few seconds. She couldn’t believe he trusted her so much, so blindly, and she didn’t think she deserved that trust. He had lied to her, she reminded herself. He had lied when she had questioned him about her forgotten memories, but she couldn’t really hold it against him. She knew he thought it would be best for her. Being mad at Severus and Draco was hard enough, she didn’t need any more anger; what she needed was someone she could trust, and that someone was Kingsley.

She walked over to the mirror and took a look at herself. Her hair was still messy, and she was still wearing the same dress she had earlier, when Snape had taken her away. The same dress he had rolled around her waist, so he could touch her, fill her body. No, she didn’t need that reminder when she was about to face him again. She quickly opened her wardrobe and pulled out some jeans and a tank top. Not too informal, but comfortable all the same. She was just trying to fix her hair when she heard voices downstairs. He was there already.

She unlocked and opened the door, and made her way down the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” she heard Ron spit at Snape.

“Manners, Weasley,” he retorted, in a cold voice, as he closed the door behind him.

“Severus, did something happen?” Molly asked, as she stepped out of the kitchen.

“That is precisely what I was going to ask. Kingsley summoned me, saying it was something important.”

“Kingsley?” Molly asked, surprised. “I thought he had left, I haven’t seen him in an hour, at the very least.”

“I asked him to call you,” Hermione said, as she walked down the corridor. “I need to speak to you.”

“It could not wait until the next meeting?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, but she could tell he was just keeping appearances. She could see it in his eyes, there was no mock, and no intent to hurt. Not that it made any difference.

“I am afraid not,” she said, but as she walked closer to them, Ron stood in front of her.

“You want to talk to him?” he asked, surprised.

“It is important, Ron.”

“Well, I don’t think you should, Hermione. You cannot trust him.”

“It is all right, really,” she said, smiling reassuringly at him. It was nice of him, trying to protect her that way; especially when almost everyone else seemed to be doing the exact opposite.

She walked to the library then, opened the door, and stood by it, waiting for Snape to walk inside.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked, quickly walking to her side. She could see the twins and Ginny by the kitchen door, not wanting to miss a word that was said, and Harry, walking over to them as well, and stopping right behind Ron.

“I already told you, Ron, I need to speak with him.”

“Well, you are not staying with him alone,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Please, Ron, I have something I need to discuss with him in private.”

He was about to protest when Molly’s voice interrupted.

“Ronald, leave Hermione alone and get in here,” she said, from the kitchen door. He looked about to protest, but a single look from his mother made him change his mind. “You too, Harry, dear,” she added, sweetly, and Hermione gave her a thankful smile before turning back to Snape.

“Well?” she asked, still waiting by the door. He looked at her for another moment, and then walked past her, into the library.

She took a few moments to ward the room, even though she knew Molly would keep most of the house’s occupants away. When she was done, she turned back to him, to find him standing by the window, his back to her.

“We need to talk about Draco,” she said, going straight to the point, and watching him stiffen slightly at her words.

“I am not sure there is much to discuss,” he replied, still not turning around.

“He is willing to help the Order, to betray Voldemort,” she said, and noticed him cringe ever so slightly at her use of the name. She didn’t really care.

“And what exactly makes you think it is not the other way around?”

“I trust him.”

“And you think that is enough? He is a Death Eater; it is his job to gain your trust.”

“I trusted you when no one else did, was that a mistake too?” she asked, and he finally turned around.

“That was different.”

“How so?”

“I was forced to do what I did, to save you. They were going to kill you.”

“Draco has saved me too,” she said, keeping calm. “My friends as well.”

“You cannot trust him.”

“Why not?”

“I have known him since he was born; I know the family he grew up with, the things he was taught. He does not care about anyone but himself.”

“Maybe you are wrong,” she said, more to taunt him than because she believed her own words.

“He doesn’t love you,” he snapped, furious.

“What does love have to do with anything?” she asked, just as angrily. She was glad to see her words had shocked him into silence.

“You cannot trust him, and I will make sure you see that.”

“What difference does it make to you? I was never anything more than a fling, something to pass the time, wasn’t I? Why do you even care about what happens to me?”

“That is not how it was,” he started, but she interrupted before he could finish.

“Stop. Just stop,” she said, holding up her hand. “I am sorry, but I will not do this,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to fight over this any more, it is pointless. What’s done is done, and I have learned my lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” he asked, his voice like velvet once more, as he walked to where she was standing.

“Never to let my heart take control again,” she said, and as he reached his hand forward she turned around and walked to the table.

With a flick of her wand, the golden cup she had left in her bedroom appeared on the table.

“What is that?” he asked, as he walked closer, standing barely an inch behind her. He was so close she could almost feel the heat coming from his body. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control herself. Then she opened them again and answered his question.

“Maybe that will make you trust him,” she said, and felt him lean forward, to get a closer look. “That was Helga Hufflepuff’s cup. It is a Horcrux.”

“How did you get it?” she heard him ask, amazed.

“Draco got it for me.” He stood still and silent, and after a few moments, she spoke again. “I knew only someone bearing the Dark Mark could get to it, and I asked him to retrieve it for me. He risked his life, and almost got himself killed to do it.”

“Maybe he just wanted to make sure you would still trust him, after learning the truth about him.”

“He gave it to me before his father’s attack,” she answered. He did not reply. “A few Death Eaters died in the process, and he knows Voldemort will discover it is missing soon.”

“I hope Draco didn’t leave any witnesses,” Severus muttered.

“He didn’t, but now with his aunt dead, they will suspect him for sure. He sent his mother away, somewhere safe, but he believes you will turn him in to keep your cover.”

A knock on the door startled them both, and she quickly waved her wand again, vanishing the cup.

“You have to help him,” she said, turning around to face him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Hermione?” Kingsley’s voice called from outside the door.

“Because I am asking you to,” she said, her eyes locked on his. He was so close, it was hard to think. “Please.” It took him a few more moments to answer.

“I will, for now; but if he makes one mistake, anything that risks exposing me, or if I suspect he is working against the Order, I will kill him myself,” he said, and she nodded.

“Thank you, Severus,” she said, her voice low, and saw a surprised look on his face at her use of his name. He leaned closer to kiss her, but as soon as his lips brushed hers she pulled back, shocked at what she had almost done, at what she had almost let happen.

Without another word, she walked to the door, lifted the wards and pulled it open. Kingsley was standing outside, a warm smile on his lips even as his eyes searched the room behind her, and stopped somewhere over her shoulder; on Severus, she was sure.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his eyes going back to her, his smile growing at her questioning look. “Get your coat, then, it’s cold outside.”

“Hermione, are you going out?” Molly asked, from somewhere down the hallway.

“Yes, Molly,” Kingsley replied for her. “I am taking her out for a few drinks. I promised I would when she was feeling better. She needs to relax a little,” he said, turning his head in the direction the witch’s voice was coming from.

“Oh, you are going with her?” she asked, and Kingsley nodded. “All right, then. Don’t bring her back too late. Have fun,” she said then, and Kingsley nodded before turning back to Hermione.

She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on; maybe Kingsley wanted to talk about what had happened during his meeting with Draco, but then why say he was taking her out? She didn’t dare turn around and look at Snape.

“Shall we?” Kingsley asked, then, and she decided she would follow his lead. If he was saying all that, then there surely would be a good reason. Keeping her eyes ahead, she walked out of the library and down the hallway, stopping by the entrance door to take her coat and put it on. As soon as she was ready, Kingsley opened the door for her, but just as she was about to walk outside, she heard footsteps behind her.

“Miss Granger,” a cold voice called, and she slowly turned around to face Snape. She was taken aback by the angry look on his face. “I believe these are yours,” he said, flicking his wand once between them.

She saw a flash of light, and then a black piece of cloth appear out of thin air. It took her only a second to realize what that was, the pair of knickers he had torn off her body earlier that day, the ones she had left behind in her haste to leave his place. The bastard!

With a speed she didn’t know she possessed, she took them before they fell and hastily pushed them inside her pocket, glancing around to make sure no one had seen them before throwing him a hateful look. He didn’t smirk in return, and that surprised her. He didn’t seem pleased at what he had just done. In fact, he looked just as angry as she felt.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned around and stepped outside the house, taking Kingsley’s arm as she reached him, her back to Severus as the Auror pushed the door shut behind them.