Harry Potter 1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters. **

**Chapter One**

"Spare the children!" a man's voice begged as he lay face down on the floor of his own lavish and book-filled study.

The man towering above him was cloaked in black, and his deep voice, when he spoke, was cold and intimidating. "Your whole family will suffer for your betrayal," he told the terrified man.

The room was filled with shocking green light as the frightening man screamed a deadly curse into the quiet night.

---

Hundreds of miles away, Draco Malfoy was walking around in his large manor.

He paced the length of his ornately decorated green and black bedroom several times then looked out the window. He repeated this again, pacing the bedroom and then looking out his large, round window.

Draco Malfoy was waiting for his father to arrive home. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had broken free from Azkaban prison just hours before.

He scowled as his mind trailed to how he had learned of the prison break. The _Evening Prophet _sat open upon his desk, the headline reading "_All Hell Breaks Loose_" (a good title if Draco ever saw one). Apparently, his father broke loose along with the rest of the Prisoners that Azkaban held.

Of course, he was not anxious to see his father, he was anxious to be hearing news of his next mission, which he knew his father would report to him.

There was no doubt in Draco's mind that his father had not first visited the Dark Lord to get his own orders.

_He broke out nine hours ago, be patient_, he told himself over and over again. He stopped pacing as he heard the creak of the front gate, for his ears were listening for any sound. His heart raced as he quickly ran out of his room to greet his father.

---

Several hours after it was late in the morning. The sky was not cloudless, but the sun shown brightly as Draco walked down a narrow cobblestone street, causing dots in Draco's eyes.

_Bloody sun!_ He thought as he hurried down the street, his destination growing ever closer with every step he took. Abruptly, he stopped.

_This is it_. The alleyway to the side of him was just as his father had described: dark, narrow and full of scum. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then he turned into the narrow alleyway.

The sun would have been a great help in this alley. Some feet away, his target lay slumped against the wall, sleeping peacefully.

_This is my mission_, he thought as his picked up the frail person in his arms. She_ is my mission._

Her brown head bobbed as he walked back down the empty cobblestone road.

He glanced around as he approached the door from which he had exited from barely an hour earlier.

Once inside, he was greeted with glares from the surly looking men sitting at a card table inside.

"Back already?" one with graying hair asked gruffly.

Draco nodded. "Not the toughest mission, especially since I have no clue what the Dark Lord would want with a Mudblood."

The man shrugged, eyes returning to his hand full of cards. "Probably just bored; needs to have some fun."

Draco nodded again while he headed for the back room.

_The Dark Lord definitely doesn't want her for a tea party and a chat about elf-rights_, Draco thought, laying her sleeping body on an old, beat-up couch.

---

Hermione Granger woke from a nightmare, a cold sweat running from her forehead. She sat up, realizing she was someplace unrecognizable. The couch she was laying on was comfortable, but that didn't help to suppress her fear.

She looked around; the room was dark and dingy and reminded her of a cheap hotel she had stayed in just a week earlier.

The fire place was lit, but Hermione couldn't feel the warmth from it.

She stood up; ignoring the head rush she received. She looked around again, trying to find any clue of where she was or how she got there.

"Finally awake?" a familiar drawl came from behind her. Hermione turned around, but couldn't see anyone.

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows.

"Surprised to see me?"

Her eyes widened. This couldn't be happening! Not to her! She had been trying to get away from something like this!

"What am I doing here?" she asked, trying to act as calm as she could, but could not stop the tremble in her voice.

"Not to worry," the young man said, a noticeable smirk spreading over his face. "You are my first completed mission."

Hermione's eyes widened again. "Mission?"

Another smirk went across his face. "Of course, you don't think that I'd have actually touched you out of my own accord, do you? I'd do anything my master asks of me," he added when she raised an eyebrow.

"So your mission was to stop me from running away?"

"Why would we care whether or not you ran away?" Malfoy asked her incredulously. "We have other plans for you."

"And those are?" she asked.

Hermione saw something flicker across his face before he answered, "I do as He says _without_ question."

She smirked now. "Not high enough on the food chain yet?"

"At least I'm higher than worms, beetles and Mudbloods."

The door to Hermione's left suddenly opened and in walked Lucius Malfoy. His presence seemed to send a chill through Hermione as he sauntered past her.

"Good job, Draco," his cold voice said with pride to his son.

"It wasn't exactly hard finding her and bringing her about a mile back here," Malfoy said resentfully.

"_A_ mission is better than _no_ mission," Lucius told him in what he must of thought a wise voice. He then turned to face Hermione, looking her up and down, smirking. "Look what the street has done to you."

It was true that she didn't look that good: her hair was pulled back, but clearly bushy, her clothes were baggy and in need of a wash, while her once-white trainers were worn and covered in dirt.

"You would have done better staying with the Weasleys, and that's saying something," remarked Lucius. He turned back to Malfoy. "Take her back to the manor and get her showered, give her clean clothes, feed her, and let her get some rest in one of the guest houses."

Malfoy looked taken back by the request. "What?" he asked.

"You heard me," Lucius said, leaving the room.

Malfoy rounded on Hermione, grabbing her upper arm.

"Let's go," he said, forcefully pulling her out the door his father had just exited.

Hermione had the urge to fight him off, but was too weak. Without Malfoy pulling her, she doubt she would have been able to walk by herself without stumbling. She wanted to pull away and Apparate back home, but her feet refused to stop and she couldn't concentrate on just one thing. Her mind was full of what she was doing, where she might be going, who she was with. She felt as if her mind had been scrambled over the past few weeks, and that she was no longer the know-it-all bookworm. Hell, the last time she had opened a book was at Hogwarts. Hermione definitely didn't feel like herself anymore.

Once outside the building, Malfoy turned to Hermione.

"Hold on to my arm tight," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he was making such an odd request.

He rolled his eyes. "Side-Along Apparation," he informed her impatiently.

Hermione cast her eyes downwards as a blush fell across her face, she should have guessed. She grabbed his arm and closed her eyes as the familiar feelings of Apparation swept over her.

Stumbling slightly, Hermione released her grip on Malfoy, only to have him take hold of her upper arm again.

He pulled her quickly down another, and much larger, cobblestone road. Hermione looked in the direction they were going and saw a large gate, with an even larger house behind it.

"Wait!" Hermione said; gathering her strength and pulling her arm out of his, coming to an abrupt halt.

He turned around and rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Why are we going there? Why am I a part of this?" she asked.

"I _really_ don't know," Malfoy said sourly. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. You are my mission; you're not going to ruin this one."

Hermione raised her eyebrow for the third time. "You're saying that like I ruined your _last_ mission."

"Maybe you did," he mumbled as he grabbed her arm again.

From a distance, Malfoy Manor had seemed nice, but up close, once past the gate, it was foreboding. Hermione noted that the gate and fence had looked broken. As soon as she passed the gate, she noticed the whole entire house looked derelict.

"Is there anyone--?"

"Malfoy Manor is located at 700 High Haven Road in Wiltshire, England," he said to her in a hushed tone. Suddenly, the house before her changed its appearance drastically: rose bushes suddenly started to grow in the front as the house before her repaired itself automatically.

"Catching flies?"

Hermione closed her mouth, which she hadn't notice fall open in awe.

Before Malfoy and she stood the most beautiful house she had ever seen.

"This still does not explain why I am here," said Hermione as Malfoy dragged her into the house.

He released her arm as he closed the door behind them.

"_I don't know why_!" he resentfully explained again.

"This is the exact reason why I was running away!" she told him. "I was trying to-"

"Save yourself?" he asked, smirking again. "That's a very Slytherin thing to do."

"I was trying to not get involved! I don't want to be part of a war! I don't want to see the people I love get killed," she insisted, tears starting to fill her brown eyes.

"A little late for not getting involved," he remarked, now rolling his eyes at her sensitivity.

Tears started to pour slowly from her eyes. Malfoy rolled his eyes again and retrieved a handkerchief from his back pocket.

She looked at it suspiciously for a second, but took it and wiped her eyes.

"Keep it," he told her, "I wouldn't want something touched by a Mudblood." He then inclined his head in the direction of a staircase. "We have to go this way now."

"Why haven't you tried to kill me yet?" she asked as they climbed the spiral staircase. "I have no wand, so I wouldn't exactly be a challenge."

"My instructions were to get you," he answered. "Then, as you heard, my father has told me to get you back in good condition. Why?" Malfoy asked as he saw Hermione raise her eyebrow again. "I have no idea."

Hermione followed him down a long hallway.

If only she hadn't been almost desperate for help from someone, she would refuse to move. If only she had her wand, she'd be out of this mess.

If only she hadn't run away.

Emotion swept over Hermione again as they turned down another hallway. Malfoy stopped abruptly, causing Hermione to run into him.

He didn't seem to notice as he unlocked a door with an intricately designed key, Hermione could swear she saw a flicker of a smile.

_No,_ her mind told her. _Malfoys don't smile. They only smirk. With their cruel, evil hearts they'd never be able to smile._

Malfoy pushed her into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him and locking it.

"This is my bedroom," he informed her, turning the overhead light on. "I would bring you to a guest room and leave you there, but I know you," he stared at her pointedly, "and I know you would try to run."

Malfoy pointed towards a door at the other end of the room. "That's the bathroom," he explained. "Towels are in the closet. Once you get washed up I'll give you clean clothes."

Hermione nodded meekly and walked into the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she looked around desperately for a window.

Sighing, she realized defeat. She would have to get out as soon as possible, but, since they seemed to have no intention of hurting her, she would take this opportunity to get a shower, eat, and sleep in a warm bed.

The memory of the day she left replayed in her mind as the hot water ran over her body…

"_What are you running from, Hermione?" Harry asked calmly, sitting at the kitchen table as she tried to sneak out with her trunk floating behind her._

_She turned her head to him, not having noticed him sitting there in the dim light. "I can't do any of this anymore," she answered quietly._

"_Exactly what can't you do?" he questioned as his eyes narrowed threateningly. "You're not the one who has the choice of killing or being killed. You're not the one that seems to cause death and destruction where ever you go. You're not the one that everyone is counting on. Please, enlighten me as to what you can't do."_

"_This is what," she told him, "I can't deal with all this pain. I can't deal with death and destruction. I know I said I would be there for you, but I can't. I'm leaving."_

_Harry stood quickly, knocking his chair down in the process. "You can't go."_

_Hermione walked towards the door. "Too bad, because I am."_

_His green eyes suddenly filled with envy. "I wish I could be you."_

_She nodded, whispered her goodbye, and left._

Tears mixed with the water as she ran her fingers through her wet hair.

Ever since the day they left Hogwarts, Hermione had felt as if she had just been gliding through life numb, over-aware of what was going on around her, but never able to do something.

She turned the faucet off once she had finished, and wrapped a towel around herself, wringing the water out of her hair and into the sink.

Hermione wiped the steam off of the mirror in front of her. Her skin was considerably pale, and her eyes had bags around them. The curly brown hair she had was longer than ever now, barely a foot above her waist. The color had grown darker, no more highlights from being in the sun.

There was a knock on the door, and before she could react, the door behind her flung open. Draco Malfoy strutted into the bathroom, carrying a pile of clothes in his hands.

"What if I still hadn't had my towel on?" she asked as he shoved the clothes into her hands.

"Well, I guess I would have seen you without a towel on then," he answered snidely.

Hermione sighed angrily, looking through the clothes he handed her. "I believe you're missing something."

He raised an eyebrow.

"A bra."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, like you _need_ one."

"For your information--"

"I am not your damn maid!"

"Well, that seems to be your mission, getting me to feel better, correct?" said Hermione, attempting to make Malfoy as uncomfortable as possible. "I would feel _so much _better if I had a bra."

"Those in your hands are my mother's clothes," he notified her, "You should just be happy that I spared something for you."

She looked at the clothes again. "These are small."

"You are small."

"I don't like wearing tight clothing."

"Deal with it."

"I will go to your father and tell him you're not--"

He ripped the clothes out of her hands. "Fine! I'll find you different and larger clothing. Happy?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and held out her hand, sighing as loud as she could. "I'll wear these," she said.

He handed her the clothing again ("Good girl," he had said.) and left Hermione in the bathroom to change.

She grimaced as she looked through the clothes again. The apparel in her hands were her size and fit perfectly, she had just wanted to make Malfoy's 'mission' difficult.

Reluctantly, and with the hopes of being able to eat, Hermione dressed quickly.

Hermione's attempts at making Malfoy uncomfortable with the whole bra thing didn't work, and she secretly agreed that she didn't need one.

She looked in the mirror once she had dressed. He had given her dinner clothes, and made Hermione look paler than usual. The black v-neck shirt and the gray skirt made Hermione feel as if she were going to a funeral. Besides the shortness of the skirt, she felt very dressed up.

Trying to make the skirt go a little closer to her knee, Hermione exited the bathroom.

"It took you long enough," Malfoy said irritably. His eyes looked her over. "Would you like a hairbrush?"

Hermione's hand subconsciously went to the top of her head. "If you don't mind," she said, smiling sheepishly.

He clicked his tongue impatiently, taking out his wand. "This way is easier."

Malfoy flicked his wand at Hermione before she could act. She felt her hair pull itself into a tight knot at the top of her head.

"We are going to go to the dining room for dinner," he informed her as he led her back through the hallways. "With my mother," he added, his voice sounding suggestive, although Hermione couldn't figure what he was actually suggesting.

Hermione looked Malfoy over as she walked behind him. He seemed to have changed into black dress robes.

A sudden thought struck Hermione. "Why does your mother own Muggle clothing?" she asked, reminded that she was, in fact, dressed in Muggle attire at the present time.

"Although we do not like to," said Malfoy, "we do meet and have dinner with Muggles occasionally. Of course, only with Muggles in high society, like the Prime Minister and--"

"You have eaten dinner with the Prime Minister?"

Even though Hermione was walking behind Malfoy, she knew he was now smirking smugly.

"When you have high political influence in one society, it is easy to gain influence in another."

"I doubt you have very much political influence now, with your father and you being fugitives."

"I was cleared of all charges," he said, turning right sharply. "And I didn't do anything."

"You're a Death Eater."

He stopped, rounded on her, and pointed a finger at himself. "_I'm_ not the one who killed Dumbledore, _Professor Snape _did. I was holding my wand to Dumbledore, and _I couldn't do it_."

Hermione looked up at the lean blonde in front of her. His gray eyes held no warmth as she searched for something in them, only sadness.

"You're still a Death Eater," she said coldly.

He shook his head and turned back around to continue walking. "Yeah, whose first mission is to make a homeless Mudblood comfortable."

An image of hurting Malfoy came into Hermione's mind and she grinned fiendishly.

She walked closer to Malfoy, until she was barely a foot away from running into him. She made a quick step and pushed her foot down on the back of Malfoy's shoe. His heel came up out of the shoe as he stepped forward, falling face down on the ground.

Malfoy turned his head to look up at Hermione as his hair fell messily around his face, cursing loudly. His eyes glared spitefully as he stood up and brushed himself off. He ran his hand through his hair as his jaw clenched.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" he asked, his voice growing louder with each word.

Hermione couldn't stifle her laughter. Soon, she was clutching a stitch in her side, tears from laughter filling her eyes.

She could barely hear Malfoy repeating "What the _bloody hell _is _wrong _with you?" over her laughter.

Finally, she was able to suppress her laughter down to a few giggles.

"Done?" Malfoy asked with annoyance.

Hermione sighed, concealing her giggles. "I guess."

He shook his head. "You will regret doing that one day."

"But until that day, I will laugh when reminded I did that."

He huffed loudly but didn't reply.

They arrived in the large dining room five minutes before dinner was to be served. Hermione looked around in marvel at the painted, high ceiling.

Malfoy sat down as if it were no big deal.

_He probably doesn't appreciate something so nice,_ Hermione thought to herself as she also sat down, one seat separating them.

The door behind them opened, and in came Narcissa Malfoy. Dressed in all black and a sour smile on her face, Hermione got the sudden feeling that Narcissa was like Professor McGonnagall, and was not a woman to cross paths with when angry. Her light blue eyes landed on Hermione, and she seemed to restrain herself from commenting. Hermione felt as if she looked like someone else she had once seen, and realized that, other than seeing Narcissa once at the Quidditch World Cup, she had not seen her another time. Then she remembered something she had seen two summers before.

"You're Bellatrix's sister!" Hermione said out loud. Narcissa, whom had sat down while Hermione was musing, turned her head and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"Great observational skills," she said, and then looked back at Malfoy. "Why exactly is she here again?"

Hermione could see a slight flush rise up in Malfoy's face before answering, "I don't know, Mother."

"Well, it had better not be for long," she gave a disdainful look at Hermione, "We don't need Mudbloods defiling everything within this house."

"Just pretend I'm not here!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"That's what I was trying to do."

"I want to be here as much as you want me here," she told Narcissa. "I would love to go home, but Annoying Malfoy Number Two says it's his 'mission' and he has to 'obey orders'."

"'Annoying Malfoy Number Two'?" asked Narcissa.

"Your husband would be Annoying Malfoy Number One," said Hermione.

"We are letting you stay in our house--!"

"Against my will--"

"You will treat me with respect--"

"Yet again against my will--"

"Will you two shut it!" said Annoying Malfoy Number Two.

Both their heads snapped to look at the aggravated blonde.

"She has to stay, Mother," he said, "Deal with it."

Narcissa sighed loudly, and then turned her attention to the table, which she stared at until dinner arrived.

Hermione ate voraciously, even with the deadly stares she was getting from Malfoy.

"This is good," Hermione commented conversationally, feeling very much like Ron at the moment.

"Yes, the house-elves do make a good dinner occasionally," Narcissa said.

Hermione suddenly lost her appetite and pushed her plate away from herself. "House-elves?"

"Of course," said Malfoy, "You don't think we make this ourselves, do you?"

"I figured you had a cook or a chef."

"You figured wrong."

Hermione stood hastily. "I'll be leaving now," she informed them, leaving the room as quickly as she could, not waiting to seek their approval.

She was walking up the elegant spiral staircase when Malfoy grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her around to face him.

"I know you don't want to be here," he hissed, "and I don't want you here either. But don't, _don't you dare_ go and insult my mother. She has been through a lot and is only going along with this because she has to. So I am asking you _not_ to bother her. I'm not demanding this, just simply requesting. And if you do as I ask, I promise that I will tell you why you are here once I know."

Hermione cocked her eyebrow. "Why would you do that?" she asked skeptically.

"Because my mother has enough problems without _you_ in her life," answered Malfoy scornfully. "Now," he continued, sighing resignedly, "I am going to bring you back to my room, and you can get some sleep. How does that sound?"

Hermione nodded and followed Malfoy reluctantly. They walked to the large bedroom silently.

As Malfoy opened the door, Hermione told him "I _really_ hate you," before pushing past him and into the room.

---

Lucius Malfoy walked leisurely down a brightly lit hallway. He had just talked to the Dark Lord, and was now planning on talking with his son.

The morning air crept in through the open windows as he continued to his destination, pulling his cloak tighter around him. It may have been the summer, but mornings were bone chilling in England.

He slowly came to a stop as he approached the door to Draco's bedroom. Bunching his hand into a fist, he knocked on the door four times.

He heard grumbling, recognizing it as Draco, and the door swung open. Draco was rubbing his eyes, looking thoroughly exhausted.

"Yes father?" he asked sleepily.

"I came to you inform you that I want both of you to report to my office at noon." He then added, "For a chat over lunch."

Draco nodded, than closed the door without another word.

Lucius looked down at his watch. He had over three hours to complete one more mission for his master before he embarked on this personal operation.

---

Draco grumbled and turned over again. He never realized how uncomfortable his couch was.

He gave in and sat up. He looked over at Granger's sleeping figure in his bed.

Why had he even let her sleep in his bed? Why hadn't he forced her onto the couch?

He sighed, she had won by beating him down with a pillow. Not a friendly whack, no, but about a hundred hard, forceful and angry whacks on the head.

And with his own pillow!

He rubbed his head, scowling at the memory.

Standing up, he headed directly for his dresser and grabbed a change of clothes, then headed for the bathroom to take a very, _very_ cold shower.

---

The morning went by fast as Draco sat at his desk, doing nothing in particular.

As it neared eleven-thirty, Draco contemplated whether to wake Granger up at all.

He now loomed above Granger, loudly sighing occasionally, hoping that she would just suddenly wake because of this.

It was now eleven-forty-five and Draco was becoming impatient. He knew she was probably going to want to take a shower or something like that.

Suddenly, and as loudly as he could, he screamed: "GRANGER WAKE UP!"

She jumped up and looked around, her eyes landed on Draco. Rolling her eyes, she grumbled, "And I thought my nightmare was over."

---

Malfoy rushed down an ornately decorated corridor, Hermione on his heels. She kept glancing around at the thousands of paintings lining the walls. She could tell they were all Malfoys due to the common characteristic of blonde hair and gray eyes.

As they neared the end of the corridor, her eyes fell upon a portrait of Abraxas Malfoy, whom Hermione knew to be Draco's grandfather, and who was pretending to sleep at the moment. Now that she thought about it, all the portraits had been pretending to sleep.

Suddenly, there were no more portraits.

"There needs to be space for the rest of the Malfoy line," Malfoy explained smugly. "And they are all "sleeping" because they want to make it seem as if they aren't going to be crowding into one of the studies portraits to listen to the "chat" my father wants to have."

Hermione nodded as Malfoy knocked on the large mahogany door in front of them. He knocked his fist four times against the door, and then it swung open.

Lucius Malfoy's eyes first descended upon Hermione, eyeing her like a lion would a piece of meat.

"You're just in time," he said.

Malfoy nodded, than jerked his head in Hermione's direction. "She refused to wake up, than tried to talk a very long time getting ready," said Malfoy half-truthfully.

In all truthfulness, Hermione would have gotten up earlier, if Malfoy had made an attempt to wake her. But, frankly, she had tried to take an extremely long time getting ready, making an effort not to be able to go. In the end, Malfoy had forced her to leave as she was in the middle of slowly, very slowly, applying her make-up ("One eyelash at a time?" he had asked her.).

They entered the study, and the elder Malfoy invited them to sit down in two chairs in front of his desk.

Little did Hermione and Malfoy know that the conversation they were about to have with Lucius Malfoy would change their lives... _forever_.

---

**Author's Note:** Songs lyrics that were originally in this chapter have been taken out. If you would like to know what they are, check my AIM profile for my MySpace link.

Leii.


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

**Short Recap: **

_Lucius Malfoy's eyes first descended upon Hermione, eyeing her like a lion would a piece of meat._

_"You're just in time," he said._

_Malfoy nodded, than jerked his head in Hermione's direction. "She refused to wake up, than tried to talk a very long time getting ready," said Malfoy half-truthfully._

_In all truthfulness, Hermione would have gotten up earlier, if Malfoy had made an attempt to wake her. But, frankly, she had tried to take an extremely long time getting ready, making an effort not to be able to go. In the end, Malfoy had forced her to leave as she was in the middle of slowly, very slowly, applying her make-up ("One eyelash at a time?" he had asked her.)._

_They entered the study, and the elder Malfoy invited them to sit down in two chairs in front of his desk._

_Little did Hermione and Malfoy know that the conversation they were about to have with Lucius Malfoy would change their lives... _forever

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Two**

Harry Potter sat in the kitchen of the Burrow, tapping his fingers on the table in front of him rhythmically as he waiting impatiently for Ronald Weasley to return.

The door leading into the kitchen opened and Harry turned his head instantly.

Gangly Ron came into the house looking grave. He shook his head when he saw Harry. Immediately understanding this motion, Harry slammed a clutched fist onto the table.

"What _happened_ to her?" he demanded.

"We don't know," Ron told him.

"I remember her leaving, walking out of the house," said Harry, sadness distinguishable in his voice. "I could have _stopped _her; I could have forced her to stay. But I didn't."

"You really should be focusing on the _Horcruxes_," Ron told him, comfortingly. "Let _us_ worry about Hermione."

Harry sighed. "I feel like I can't do anything to help."

"You can't be expected to do everything Harry. You put too much pressure on yourself."

Harry stood so abruptly his chair fell backwards. "I do not!"

"Don't get so defensive!"

"I am not—"

"Yes you are!"

"Damnit Ron!" said Harry, rubbing his temples, "Everything is so hard without you making it worse!"

"Making what worse? All I'm doing is trying to help! And you're not making it any easier!" persisted Ron. "You're not the one who thinks they're in love with their best friend. You're not the one who is searching for that same person. You're not the one being torn up inside for letting her go; for never telling her how you feel.

"You know what?" Ron stopped himself from continuing, his face now as red as his hair and ears. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." He turned on his heel and rushed out of the room and up the stairs.

Harry couldn't move, but continued to stare at the spot where Ron had just been standing.

---

Hermione sat alone in Lucius Malfoy's study, staring into the falling void of darkness as her mind tried to comprehend the heated conversation that had involved the two Malfoys and her.

The door behind her creaked and she turned her head around. Narcissa was standing in the doorway, an even more sour look on her face then she had the day before.

"Dinner will be in a half hour," Narcissa announced, trying to avoid Hermione's eyes with her own pale blue ones.

Hermione nodded and turned back to the emptiness. Moments later, Hermione felt the couch sink a little, and realized Narcissa had sat down next to her.

"I know that this may seem..." Narcissa paused, searching for the right word. "extremely heartless. But you have to realize, the continuation of the Malfoy bloodline depends on Draco and you."

She closed her eyes, the conversation replaying in her head like a broken record.

Hermione turned her head to Narcissa and stood quickly. "You mean the continuation of the most arrogant Wizard bloodline in existence?" she asked, tears springing into her eyes.

Narcissa looked without words.

"You mean me throwing my life away to live with the one person I cannot stand to look at?"

Still, Narcissa remained silent, taking in deep breaths occasionally, visibly fighting off tears of her own.

"You mean me having to give up all my hopes and dreams just so you can have a powerful Witch or Wizard to help fight Voldemort's battle?

"You mean going against all my morals and helping you kill my best friends?" she gave Narcissa a scathing look. "You people are so disgusting."

Narcissa stood now, her finger pointed at Hermione. "There's nothing you can do about it," she said. "You are going to marry him, and you're going to give him a child. I would love for him to be in love with someone, or at least dating someone, but he's not. We have to take many risks for this war, including throwing our son's life away for the gain of ourselves." The tears, Hermione noticed, were now pouring from Narcissa's face.

"You'll probably never find us to be a family, but we will try. Even though we do not want to associate with people like you, I have to respect you. You are extremely powerful, more powerful then you might ever know. And that is what I respect. If you can truly give us another extremely powerful grandchild, you will be treated like family."

Hermione could tell Narcissa was lying through her teeth.

Hermione averted her eyes upward for a moment before looking back at Narcissa's tear-full face.

"I don't want to do this," Hermione admitted to her, tears now falling from her own face.

"I just want to leave."

The older woman nodded. "I know _exactly_ how you feel," she said, even Hermione had to admit, sincerely.

---

Draco walked hurriedly towards his room with his head spinning.

All the pieces of the puzzle fit together now perfectly.

Granger really _was_ his mission.

He sat down on his bed putting his head in his hands.

Draco understood _why_ his parents had chosen Granger, but he couldn't believe that they actually _had_. He could barely comprehend that they even considered her.

Attempting to shake these thoughts out of his mind, Draco stood and leaned against his window, his breath causing a cloud of fog to appear.

He sighed, trying to think of anything else. _Spells, _he thought. _Simple levitation spell, '_Wingardium Leviosa_.' Simple summoning charm, '_Accio_.' Simple Muggle item, telephone. Not so simple minded Witch, Granger._

He slammed his balled up fist against the glass. "I can't believe my parents expect me to marry that filthy little Mudblood," he mumbled, barely audible to even himself.

---

_"Correct or not: you are an extraordinarily gifted witch, Ms. Granger?" the older, gray eyed Malfoy asked, his eyes glinting with... _glee_? He didn't wait for an answer as he continued. "You are considered the brightest witch of your age; I know this for a fact. I also know for a fact that my own son is extraordinarily gifted, although his grades never showed it."_

_"Your point is?" Malfoy asked impatiently._

_"My master recently found some shocking information," he said. "He found that if two gifted magical persons were to have a child together, that child could possibly be twice their power. More shockingly, if one of those two people is a Mud... _Muggle-born_, then the child is even more likely to be even more powerful than that." He then added, "Due to built up magical power past on from the Muggle-born's ancestors." _

_"Are you trying to say that if your son and I had a child it would be exceptionally powerful?" Hermione asked skeptically._

_"Precisely._

_"Which is why I am about to tell you this. Ms. Granger, this is the reason why I had my son bring you here."_

_Hermione's mouth gaped open and her eyes widened; Draco had the same reaction. _

_"What?" Draco gasped._

_"The Dark Lord believes that if you two were to have a child, it could be the key to us winning the war," he then further explained to them._

_Hermione shook her head violently and stood up, her legs trembling. "You can't make me," she said bravely._

_Lucius Malfoy's eyes glinted maliciously. "Try and stop me," he said, his voice low and dangerous sounding. "I'd like to see a filthy Mudblood try, so go right ahe--"_

_That's when Hermione interrupted him with her fist connecting with his jaw._

---

The bruise continued to form on Hermione's fist. Several of the knuckles on her right hand had been severely bruised when she had punched Lucius Malfoy.

She hadn't noticed until Narcissa said something before exiting the study.

Staring out the window wasn't a favorite pass-time of Hermione's, but today was different, very different, and it could be excused for the time being.

Her life was completely changed she realized as she wrapped the handkerchief, which Malfoy had given her, around her hand and tying it into place.

Somehow, she made it back to Malfoy's bedroom, her feet having led her there.

Hermione knocked on the door with her not-bruised hand.

It had taken Hermione a very long to get the courage to walk out on Harry and the Wizarding world.

Of course, she knew it wouldn't be easy.

At first, she had thought it would be simple to explain it to Harry and the Weasleys, and they would help her find someplace safe.

But, every time she brought up the conversation, everyone would just ignore her. She remembered one time in specific...

_The rain was pouring hard outside, and lightning lit up the sky every few minutes. _

_Hermione sat in the kitchen with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, drinking hot chocolate as they waited for Harry and Ron to return from Diagon Alley. Ginny was up in her room finishing up some homework she had._

_"So." Hermione had said. "How's Lupin doing?"_

_  
"Fine," she said, not looking up from her knitting. "He enjoys being a 'Muggle' very much. He says that quiet life is all he needs now. And I do agree, he has been through too much in his life. Being a werewolf, and losing the two best friends he ever had. But he'll be back eventually, he told me that himself. He only wants to rest until the war is over. Once Voldemort is gone, and the rest of us can get back to normal."_

_"I think that would be good," said Hermione. "Going back to being just a Muggle. Not worrying about this war, or about losing people. Not always watching your back. I think I should go and stay with my parents for a while. What do you say?"_

_"That's a good idea," said Mrs. Weasley. Hermione's heart suddenly lightened. But then she added. "Ron and Harry could go too. The three of you need a short vacation."_

_"Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I meant just me," she said. "And, it wouldn't be a short break. It would be until the war was over."_

_Mrs. Weasley looked up from her knitting and Mr. Weasley put down his paper. "What?" they had both asked._

_"I'm just saying. I'm such a risk, being Muggle-born and all."_

_"Nonsense!" Mr. Weasley said. "We all love you Hermione, and having you and your brilliant mind here is worth the risk. You are an asset to this side!"_

_"But... what if I don't want to stay?"_

_Mrs. Weasley started turning red. "And abandon all of your friends? All who love you very much?"_

_"Let's just forget I even asked," Hermione had than said._

_The two adults nodded, and returned to what they were doing._

Hermione sighed as she remembered that night, suddenly feeling full of guilt.

What were Ron and Harry doing right now? Were they searching for her, or just pretending she never existed? Had they cared when she left? Had they given up hope right away and gone back to their destruction filled lives?

Suddenly, Hermione realized that the door was now open, and a scowling Malfoy was glaring at her.

"What!" he said crossly, and Hermione got the feeling he had been repeating that for a long time.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked timidly.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"I mean… what the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know, nor do I care. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to spend what time I have left to be without you, doing exactly that, being without you," said Malfoy, slamming the door shut before Hermione was able to say anything back.

She stood staring at the dark mahogany door for a few minutes, then realized that he wasn't going to come out and apologize or let her in anytime soon, and knew that it was probably for the best.

Sighing, she walked down the empty corridor. Hermione was lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice the figure of Lucius Malfoy growing closer to her. Only did she notice when she bumped into him.

"Apologize, Mudblood," he said at once, brushing himself off.

"To who, _you_?" she asked snidely. "I would never apologize to such a huge—"

His wand was out and at her throat before she could finish.

"Give me one reason not to hurt you," he threatened.

"I could give millions, but I don't such a simple mind could process them," she said, astounded by her own courage. "One would be that if you hurt me, you can forget about your son ever having children. With _anyone_."

Very slowly, Lucius lowered his wand.

"That's what I thought," Hermione said proudly.

"Any silly thoughts that have thinking that you will get out of this, Ms. Granger, you might as well rid from your mind," he told her in his cold voice. "You two will get married and have a child, whether or not I have to use force."

"That's what you think," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes.

Lucius glared, and then with his voice dangerously low, said, "It's what is going to happen."

Hermione huffed loudly, controlling her anger as she got the urge to punch him again.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked him irritably, causing him to start due to her sudden speech.

"What do you mean?"

"Are all of you the same? I am asking what I am supposed to do right now. Your prick of a son slammed the door in my face, not giving me an answer beyond "I don't know, nor do I care," and I have nothing to do!"

The famous Malfoy smirk went across the man's face. "I don't know, nor do I care. But I know I need to go and have a talk with my son at the moment. Why don't you go to the library or something of that nature?"

He gave her one final smirking glance before brushing past her and leaving her alone.

She watched his retreating back, her face growing bright red as she held herself back from attempting to chase after him and hit him forcefully in the head several times.

Looking around the hallway after he turned a corner, she wondered where the library was.

---

Draco continued to stare out the window, when suddenly, there was a quiet knock on his door. He sighed, pulling himself up straight. He slowly walked over to the door, and pulled it open.

Standing there was a very spaced-out looking Hermione Granger.

"What?" he asked resignedly. When she didn't answer, but continued to stare with a glazed look, he quickly became agitated.

Of course, with all that had been going on, he really didn't have the energy to be Jackass Draco. He had decided to be Ignore It Draco, which took no energy at all, but seeing Granger, and being reminded of all the problems she caused, suddenly gave him new energy.

"What!" he said, more rudely and sourly this time. She seemed to be brought back to earth by this, and looked up at him.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked oddly, in a tone Draco had never heard her use before with him.

He had no idea what she was referring to. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"I mean." she paused for a second, "what the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know, nor do I care," he said as coldly as he could. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to spend what time I have left to be without you, doing exactly that, being without you."

He wasn't lying, he realized after he closed the door. If he was going to be forced to spend time with her later on, he didn't want to spend his Granger-free time with her.

Sighing, he leaned against the window again, staring into the nothingness that held such a high position in his life.

---

Walking around aimlessly was not one of Lucius Malfoy's favorite pastimes, but today he could deal with it. Having just escaped from the Prison of Azkaban a few days before, he enjoyed walking much more; for in Azkaban, he never walked.

It was like a new found freedom that he always had. It seemed that the saying "you don't appreciate something until it's gone" was very true.

It was good to be free once more.

Although, escaping Azkaban was just like walking from one prison to another. He wasn't truly free outside of Azkaban; he would never be truly free. Unless...

No, he couldn't think that way. He wanted the Dark Lord to win, he _did_.

Was having to reassure yourself a good thing when it came to something like this? Something so important and life changing?

_Of course I want the Dark Lord to beat that spoiled brat Potter, _he thought to himself as he headed for his only son's room. _I want the Dark Lord to rule the world and rid it of Muggles and Mudblood filth._

His mind was spinning on this topic until he reached the door to Draco's room. But the topic was suddenly changed when his son answered the door.

"Yes, Father?" Draco asked in an almost tired way. He seemed tired. Or maybe... he was unhappy.

"May I speak with you?" Lucius asked.

"Does it make a difference if I say no?" said Draco, opening the door further and letting his father past without an answer.

The first thing Lucius noticed as he sat down on the black and green couch was how neat the room seemed to be.

Yet another thing Azkaban caused him to appreciate.

Draco sat across from Lucius, in a large armchair. He sat quite stiffly, as if his back was hurting.

"What exactly did you want to talk to me about?" he asked suddenly. "About how my future has been planned, and it involves marrying a filthy Mudblood whom I don't love?"

"Love has nothing to do with marriage," Lucius told him sternly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Only you could say that. You married mother."

"My marriage to your mother has nothing to do with this," said Lucius, his temper rising quickly before he could control himself.

"I know the whole story," said Draco. "I know you didn't love mother, and that you never will. She was just the only person whose family was willing to give her to the Malfoys so their line would continue."

Lucius stood hastily. "Be quiet Draco," he shouted. "That is none of your concern."

Draco stood too. "Yes it is! Just because you never knew love, doesn't mean that I don't deserve to fall in love!"

"Malfoys do not love-"

"No, they just procreate, right?"

"In desperate situations like this, all we can think about is continuing the line before it's too late!"

"I'm not going to die anytime soon!"

"You never know, Draco," Lucius yelled. "That's why this needs to happen _as soon as possible_!"

"What if I told you that I already found someone?" asked Draco calmly.

Lucius was shocked. "Who?"

"Pansy Parkinson," Draco answered. "She's Pureblood, and I love her, Father. Before I left Hogwarts, we talked about getting married and-"

Lucius held up his hand. "It's too late for her," he said quietly.

Draco's face fell. "What?" he asked.

"The entire Parkinson family, Pansy included, was killed the day I was released from Azkaban," said Lucius. "Did you not hear? Everyone with Parkinson blood was killed. It was in the Daily Prophet."

Draco's eyes, Lucius noticed, looked out the window. "Why?" Draco asked.

"I have no idea," said Lucius as he tried to console his son. "But she wasn't that-"

Draco cast his father a dangerous look. "Don't insult her," he threatened, his voice cracking audibly.

Lucius didn't know what to say. He had thought that his son was just fooling around with her; he never realized the possibility that Draco had fallen in _love_ with the Parkinson girl.

Although, Lucius had never actually thought about love, especially where Draco was concerned. Maybe it just seemed so ludicrous that a Malfoy man _could_ actually love a woman.

No, Malfoys didn't love woman. They fooled around with them, married them, and continued the Pureblooded line. They _never_ fell in love.

Lucius continued to stare at his son for a few minutes, thinking this over.

Would Pansy still be alive if Lucius had known this when the Dark Lord had given him the order to rid the world of the Parkinsons? Would Lucius have stopped himself from killing her while holding his wand to her, if only he had known?

---

After about an hour of searching, Hermione had found the library. And _what_ a library it was.

Wall to wall with bookshelves, it reminded her so much of the Hogwarts library where she had spent a majority of her time while in school.

Only, most of these books were books on the Dark Arts. As she looked through the titles, she recognized most as books that the library at Hogwarts would have in the Restricted Section.

After settling on one book, however, she found it to be quite descriptive when it came to a curse for internal bleeding. This happened in each book, her finding something that made her gag.

In spite of this, she continued to search, until one book caught her eye.

It was fairly new, in the fact that it had been published in the past 50 years, but it was completely new when it came to the information it contained. It must have been a book, Hermione guessed, that updated itself when something in the topic changed.

That was highly advanced magic, and meant that it was a highly expensive book. The book was entitled _Marriage Law: Magic Over Muggles_. And as Hermione read through it, she found some interesting information.

_"Over the past several centuries, many Pureblooded families have refused to let their sons and daughters marry Muggleborn wizard and witches. Of course, most don't know that marrying onto ones own blood so many times causes genetic problems not curable by magic. At one point, they were actually selling pints of their own blood, claiming it would cure "unclean" blood. _

_"Most of these families, however, only _just _have pure blood (at least 8 generations)._

_"But, one has to remember Dreline's theory of magical evolution (circa 1225):_

_'If one extremely powerful wizard marries one extremely powerful witch-'"_

Hermione stopped for a second, realizing this was what she had heard earlier today from Lucius Malfoy. She continued reading:

_"'-than the chances of having an extraordinarily powered child are very high.'_

_"One example of a pureblood family that tested this theory would be the Parkinson family (all deceased). When the theory came out, they let their second-oldest son, Marin; marry a well known Muggle-born named Violet. Their child did end up being extraordinarily powerful, but ended up being murdered by the Ministry of Magic when he tried to start a rebellion. _

_"However, only one Pureblooded family refused to try the theory: the Malfoy family. Throughout the generations, they have ensured that their blood was never tainted, even when Dreline's theory came out. They even went to the extent of having their children marry each other when they could not find a suitable Pureblood. This, however, caused the Malfoy's several genetic problems for the next few centuries. Recently, the line almost came to an end, but Abraxas Malfoy would not have of it and let the youngest Malfoy in existence at the time, Lucius Malfoy, marry into the Black family line, causing an uproar between the elders, which remained unresolved until the death of Abraxas Malfoy. _

_"Lucius Malfoy married Narcissa Black in September of 1979. They had a son exactly nine months later in June of 1980, naming him Draco Malfoy. _

_"But with Lucius Malfoy on the run from the Ministry, and there no hope of Draco Malfoy having a child within the next year, one of the world's only existing, and oldest, Pureblooded blood lines seems to be coming to an end."_

Hermione read that over three times, trying to comprehend why the Malfoys would let her, of all people, marry Malfoy.

The Malfoys had refused to believe Dreline's theory for centuries, had Voldemort _truly _convinced Lucius that it was the right thing to do?

---

Lucius had just abruptly left, and Draco was still in shock.

Was Draco Malfoy actually _depressed _because of this?

No, this wasn't possible. Malfoy's didn't become depressed, _especially _over a girl.

No, he was staring out the window,into the darkness,like he usually did.

Who was he trying to kid?

He, _Draco Malfoy_, was absolutely _heartbroken _over Pansy Parkinson.

What else are you supposed to do when you find out that someone you love has died?

Of course, it was not as if it was love at first site. He had only started dating her to please his parents. After a few years, however, he had grown fond of her and her listening skill. Through all the silly names she had for him, he had fallen in love with her.

Right before he had finished the Vanishing Cabinet, he had asked her what was going to happen to them. She had, out of sarcasm, suggested that they get married.

And than they had a long discussion on why they should, and why they shouldn't. That had been the night he had told her he loved her...

_"I love you, Pansy," he said quietly as they sat in the empty common room, both thoughtfully going over in their minds what was to happen to them._

_She looked up at him skeptically. "What?"_

_"I love you," he said, a little louder and more confident this time._

_Her face suddenly lit up as she smiled widely. "Really?" she asked._

_He nodded, knowing he hadn't felt this sure of himself in a long time. "Yes."_

_"I love you too," she said, smiling more brightly than Draco had ever seen._

Draco was suddenly brought back to reality as someone knocked on his door.

"Malfoy! I'm coming in!" he heard Granger's voice yell, followed by the sound of the door clicking open, and her small feet rushing into the room. "I found something in the library—"

He heard her come to a stop, and continued to stare out the window.

"Are you... okay?" she asked him.

"Just peachy, Granger," he said in the most sarcastic tone he could muster.

"But you look like you're sad—"

"I'm not _sad_, Granger," he insisted.

"Than why do you look like it?"

"Because."

"And why aren't you being mean?"

"Because I don't feel like it," said Draco, groaning once he realized what he had said.

"Is it because of Pansy?"

His eyes narrowed and he looked over at her. "How do _you_ know?"

Her eyesglanced downwards and he noticed she was carrying a book.

"And how does that book have such recent information in it?" he asked scathingly.

"It's a self-updating informational book," she answered. "It has a spell on it that--"

"I know how it works!" he said impatiently. "What does it say about Pansy in there?" he pulled the book out of her hand and opened it to where the ribbon was placed.

Granger pointed to a single line.

"'_One example of a pureblood family that tested this theory would be the Parkinson family (all deceased),'_" he read out loud.

"Bloody hell..." he mumbled.

"After I read that, I found an issue of the Evening Prophet from the day I was brought here," she pulled out the folded issue from the pocket of her robe.

Draco pulled it from her hand with such force it almost tore in half. He unfolded it. On the front page was a picture of the Parkinson manor which he knew so well, with a Dark Mark hovering above. He shook his head. "No," he muttered.

"What?" Granger asked, wondering what he could have seen that she didn't.

"The bloody bastard didn't..."

"Who!"

"Lord _bloody_ Voldemort!"

Granger jumped as the words escaped from his lips.

"What does this mean?" Granger asked Draco, cocking her head to the side and looking thoughtfully at Draco.

"That my father has a hell of alot of explaining to do."

---

The air at the Burrow was still and quiet; the only sound being that of the crickets outside.

Ronald Weasley sat in his room, trying to focus on the newspaper in front of him.

But that wasn't working out too well.

All of the sudden, someone was knocking on his door.

"Yeah?" he called.

"It's Harry, let me in."

"Go away!"

"I'll blast the door open," Harry threatened.

"Don't bother," said Ron. "It's unlocked."

Harry twisted the doorknob and, to his amusement, it opened.

"There's an article in here," Ron said casually, holding up the issue of the Daily Prophet which lay in his lap. "About Hermione going missing."

Harry nodded. "There had better be," he said. "I had to talk to Rita Skeeter."

"I was wondering why it was so horrible and talked about you 'missing your one true love,'" Ron joked. "I guess I overlooked the writer's name."

"I didn't come in here to talk about this article," Harry said sternly. "We need to talk about what you said before."

"What did I say?" Ron asked curiously, his red ears giving him away.

"Do you really love Hermione?"

Ron shrugged and looked back down at the paper, sighing. "I really don't know."

"We don't have to talk about it, I guess..."

"I don't want to," Ron admitted. "Love Hermione that is. It would make things weird between us... I mean, what if she didn't think of me that way? Then what would happen?"

_It was easy to get that out of him_, Harry thought. _One useful thing from Muggles: reverse psychology._

"I thought it'd be weird with Ginny," Harry told Ron. "But it wasn't that weird. I mean, it was only weird after we broke up."

"That's what I don't want to happen," said Ron, sighing. "I just want us to be... _us_. Not _Hermione and me_. I want it to be _you_, Hermione, and me."

"If you love her, it's not going to be that way," said Harry. "And you know that. We'll always have been friends first, and _nothing_ can stop our friendship."

---

Draco Malfoy was officially pissed off.

First off, his father tells him he can't control his love life, then tells him the person he _really_ loves has been murdered. And _then_ he goes and is not there when Draco decides to kill him!

It was absurd! The egotistical prick that was Lucius Malfoy would not get away with this!

Of course, according to Granger, killing him wouldn't get anyone anywhere, except Azkaban. So Draco could only sit on his couch as he calmed down and mourned the loss of Pansy.

"Did you love her?" Granger asked him suddenly. He looked up at her from the carpet.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Did you love Pansy?" she repeated.

Draco looked back down at the dark green carpet. If she had asked him before, he would have just told her off with a "Malfoy's don't fall in love" or "Love is for fools." But now... what could he say?

"Yes," he hissed finally. "I loved her."

She nodded meekly. "I don't know what it's like to lose someone you love. But I'm still sorry."

"Sorry for what? Ruining my life?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up to see her face bright red. "Ruined _your_ life? How the bloody hell did I do _that_? You're the one holding me hostage!"

"Don't you get it? Pansy's entire family was only killed as a distraction. They only really wanted Pansy! It was one of Voldemort's big schemes. If there was no Pansy for me to marry, then my father would go with whomever the Dark Lord suggested!" Draco told her. It had all been put together after he had seen the picture of the Dark Mark above the Parkinson manor.

Granger sat speechlessly across from him for a moment, before standing up. "Are you saying that it would have been better if I never was born? That way you'd have you're _precious Pansy_?"

He stood also. "Yes, I wish you never were born! Then I'd still have Pansy! I wouldn't have all these problems if you hadn't been born!"

"Well, how about I just go and kill myself? Would that make things better!"

"Not really, no," said Draco. "Not only will Pansy be dead, but you will too, and that would leave me completely alone with no entertainment!"

"Oh yes, because I bet you really loved Pansy beyond a good shag!"

He felt the anger he had been trying to suppress getting ready to explode. "I loved her!" he insisted.

_She can't see your weakness, than she will always have something to use against you, _he thought.

"I loved Pansy!" He yelled. "You're just jealous because I'll never love you like I loved Pansy."

Granger rolled her eyes and brought her hand to her forehead in a dramatic way. "Oh I'm just going to die because Draco Malfoy will never love me! What ever will I do without the love of that egotistical prat?" she mocked.

"Exactly my point," he said lamely.

"You really think you're special because one girl liked you in your short life, don't you? You think you're some great gift to woman and should be bowed down to, right?" she asked seriously.

"Actually I do think that."

"Well, I think that Pansy only felt sorry for you. No woman could ever love such a bastard," she told him coldly.

"She loved me too," he said, his voice cracking audibly. "She loved me too," he heard himself saying again, even though he now wasn't too sure of himself. Then, for the first time in several months, it happened; Draco Malfoy cried.

It was not like he was sobbing freely. Draco was just letting the tears that forced their way out run down his face, making rivers and leaving a salty trail behind them.

All the while, Hermione was astounded that a Malfoy actually had tear ducts. She had heard about the incident last year in the bathroom, but seeing it in front of her own eyes was completely different.

She had no idea what she should do. _Comfort him? Leave the room?_

For someone having spent the past six years of her life with two guys she knew little about what she should do.

So she went with her first instinct; she let him cry on her shoulder.

However weird and un-Hermione like it was, she couldn't just let him stand there crying.

At first he stiffened when she wrapped her arms around him, but he soon relaxed, resting his forehead on her shoulder as she patted him on the back, trying to comprehend the situation as she did so.

She shouldn't have been doing this; she should have been mocking him! She should have been making fun of the fact that _Draco Malfoy _was crying over a girl!

But Hermione had to have morals when it came to losing someone.

And he truly looked as if like he actually loved Pansy, however impossible it had seemed at first.

Maybe this Malfoy, however absurd and peculiar it seemed, really could love.

---

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all of the reviews!

I know that Draco crying may seem out of character, but to me this is in character. I was thinking about it for a long time, and whether or not I should just have him shrug it off (Jackass Draco side), or whether he should be in love with Pansy (Loving Draco side).

You can see from this chapter which side won.

Please don't leave me scathing reveiws for having him cry!I am making up for it in the next chapter (which is in the makes right now).

I have stopped my search for a beta, by the way. Monica has assured me that it will not cause her any problems, and that she wants to do it.

The best beta I could ever have is back to being my beta! Yay!

Your Author,

Leii.

P.S. If you'd like to talk to me whenever about whatever my AIM screen name is FaTcAtInAhAt15.


	3. Chapter Three

**I'm Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

**Short Recap:**

_For someone having spent the past six years of her life with two guys she knew little about what she should do. _

_So she went with her first instinct; she let him cry on her shoulder._

_However weird and un-Hermione like it was, she couldn't just let him stand there crying. _

_At first he stiffened when she wrapped her arms around him, but he soon relaxed, resting his forehead on her shoulder as she patted him on the back, trying to comprehend the situation as she did so._

_She shouldn't have been doing this; she should have been mocking him! She should have been making fun of the fact that Draco Malfoy was crying over a girl! _

_But Hermione had to have morals when it came to losing someone. _

_And he truly looked as if like he actually loved Pansy, however impossible it had seemed at first. _

_Maybe this Malfoy, however absurd and peculiar it seemed, really could love._

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Three**

Nights at the Burrow were not usually depressing, but recently they had become miserable. To Ron, not having Hermione there seemed… wrong. The little comfort of being able to send a letter would have been a heart lightening one. Sadly, however, that wasn't possible. They didn't even have a clue as to where Hermione could be; even the owls couldn't find her.

It was probably the most depressed Ron had ever felt.

Hermione had been the one to balance everything out for Harry and Ron, sort out all of their arguments, make them realize how silly they were being, and force them both to apologize. Without her, they seemed to fight more often, and would take ages to apologize because of their pride.

The world might has well have stopped revolving according to Ron. Nothing was right anymore, everything had changed.

There suddenly was a knock at the kitchen door, the same room which Ron had been sitting in.

He cleared his throat, pulling his wand from his pocket.

"Who is it?" he asked loudly.

There was no answer.

Cautiously, and with his wand at the ready, he pushed the door open.

There was no one_ standing_ there. However, there was someone there, on the floor.

Lying at Ron's feet, fist outreached towards the door as if he were about to knock, was a dark cloaked figure with a knife sticking straight out of the center of their back. As if Ron weren't already in a state of panic, a tuft of red hair distinctly stuck out from underneath the hood.

He looked around for any sign of the person who did this. Down the walk, he saw a glimpse of someone. The _crack _signaled they had already Apparated.

But the flash of blonde that Ron had seen had been unmistakable.

---

One little pebble thrown into a body of water sends a ripple through all it; disturbing the serenity and stillness. To Draco, one pebble after another was being thrown into his life. With Pansy, however, a boulder had been rolled into it.

The stolen kisses they had shared over the past few years in hidden corners lingered in his mind. There were memories of Pansy all around his house. Everywhere he turned he could remember something that they did someplace, or whispered to each other. So in his room he remained.

After blatantly stealing the bed from Granger for a few nights, which was not at all hard, he made an attempt to sleep; to close his eyes; to dream of times when he was happy. Anything but think of Pansy. _She loved me, _he repeated over and over again as his mantra. Draco didn't really know _why _he was telling himself it. Granger probably had no idea that Pansy and he had been serious. She probably never had felt that way about anyone.

Who would want to feel _anything _towards Granger _anyway_? She was a stupid Mudblood who did not deserve to be loved. Did she ever do anything other than be a bossy know-it-all?

No, she _didn't_.

He mulled over this even though his head ached, along with every other part of his body.

Maybe, just _maybe,_ he was dying. Nevertheless, that was his hope.

Many bad, horrible things had happened to Draco in the past two years. But this, losing Pansy, was the most heart wrenching. He hadn't felt this way when they had broken up, not this heart broken and empty. In all truthfulness, when they had broken up he had not felt any different then when he was with her. A part of him always knew he would get her back.

But this was so final; absolute. They were not ever going to see each other again; never kiss again; never talk again; never touch again. Nothing, ever again. She was no longer there for him, just a _pop _away. Pansy was gone.

There are seven said stages of grief: shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression and, lastly, acceptance. The final one is always acceptance, no matter what. However, the other six do not necessarily happen in any order; usually depression is a lasting stage that happens throughout the entire grieving period.

But Draco had been trained to be above human emotion, to just accept things as they happened.

He didn't _want _to accept Pansy's death. Draco wanted to deny it, pretend it didn't happen. But he could not pretend it did not happen; he could not pretend that she was sleeping peacefully in her bed. He could not.

As his stomach did another flip, he rushed out of bed. Whatever contents that had been in his stomach were soon swirling down the porcelain bowl which Draco was lying next to. The tile floor was a welcomed cold against his flushed pale face. He had never been happier to come in contact with his bathroom floor. The room spun as he rolled onto his back; his vision blurring fleetingly as he looked up.

He felt as if his entire system was deteriorating. Someone might as well have hit him over the head with a mallet, because that's how he felt.

He heard footsteps, but could not distinguish where they were coming from; it sounded as if they were surrounding him. He couldn't remember what day of the week was, nor the month or what year. He did not care anymore. Draco did not even know when he had last eaten. It had been almost a week since he found out about Pansy's death. The world had stopped spinning the moment his father had uttered the words of her death and broken the terrible news.

Hermione had known something was bound to go wrong when Malfoy had starting sobbing after Pansy's death. She had known he had stopped eating; she had _known _that he was not sleeping. Hermione had seen him falling apart in front of her own eyes and she had just _let _it happen. And this, _this moment_, with him lying on the bathroom floor, made her feel as if he was getting what he deserved. Like this was just karma, whipping its way back around with a vendetta for Malfoy.

She was not going to say he did not deserve it. Hermione would not let her conscience tell her it was wrong.

But, she did have to sympathize; she couldn't just leave him practically _dying _on the floor.

"Malfoy," she said as sternly as she could with having just been awoken by the sound of Malfoy vomiting. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes continued searching for her. "Malfoy," repeated Hermione. She was not going to help him, only get him back to his sense so she could go back to sleep. "Malfoy," she repeated once more. "Draco sodding Malfoy," she said louder. Finally, he seemed to realize where her voice was coming from and lifted his head to look at her.

He gave a loud groan, letting his shoulders slump downwards and his head fall onto the tile once more.

"I'm just going to leave you here if you aren't going to help me help you," said Hermione, irritated, slowing kneeling beside him.

Malfoy's response was another groan.

"Is my Mudblood self allowed to help you?"

Yet again, he groaned.

"Fine," she said indignantly, starting to stand. "I'll just lea—"

"I don't _need _help," said Malfoy faintly.

She rolled her eyes at his attempt at pride, kneeling next to him once more. "And I'm in love with Harry Potter."

Strangely, he chuckled. "Rather him then me," retorted the blonde weakly.

"Not so intimidating when you can't stand," Hermione said smirking.

"I'm just resting," he replied.

"Stop lying," she said. "You're not good at it."

"Just leave me here to die in _peace_," he grumbled. She sighed, placing a hand on his forehead. He squirmed, moving his head. "What are you doing?"

From what Hermione felt, he was burning up. "I'm seeing what your temperature is," she explained.

"What are you, a human thermometer?"

Rolling her eyes once more, she picked up his hand, feeling for a pulse on his wrist. As she had expected, his heart was beating rapidly.

"Where's your mother at?" she asked, forcing him to sit up.

His head lolled for a few moments before he answered. "Her study, on the east side of the house."

"I'm going to help you into bed," she explained as she put his arm around her shoulder and helped him stand. "Then I'm going to get your mother so _she _can deal with this."

It took Hermione several minutes to get Malfoy only a few feet; he was swaying and could not put one foot in front of the other. Finally, she sat him onto the bed. Straightening herself out, she started to walk to the door.

But she swore that, as she opened the door, she heard him mumble, "Thanks, Mudblood."

It was not that Hermione did not know which side was the east side of the house, because that was where the library had been; it was the fact that she east side was one fourth of the entire manor. So, it was a pretty big place to search. After one door attempted to bite her hand off, and another started shaking violently at her touch, she was terrified to open the others. If she had a wand it would have been easier. But it was a Wizard house, an old one at that, and anything could have pop out and cursed her.

Finally, when she was about to give up and head back to the bedroom to (sadly) help Malfoy herself, Hermione saw one single door with light coming from beneath it. As she approached, she was glad to see that it was a plain wooden door and knocked. She heard some shuffling, and the door swung open.

Narcissa, with an ever sour look on her face, gave Hermione a sardonic look. "Yes?" she hissed.

"Malfoy's sick," answered Hermione tediously. "He's delirious and vomiting, not to mention how high his temperature is."

Narcissa's face grew from sourness to worry. "Where is he?" she asked Hermione anxiously.

Hermione turned around, leading the older woman to Malfoy's bedroom in an eerie silence. Once she was by his bed, Hermione heard the door slam behind her as Narcissa brushed past her, sitting beside her son and stroking his blonde hair back. "What wrong?" Narcissa asked him in a soothing way.

Hermione watched Malfoy, a person she had known for almost seven years, someone who had always seemed to be so independent from anything having to do with love and compassion, practically _melt _into his mother's arms. But then again, she reminded herself, it was less than a week ago that he had broken down in front of her.

It was less than a week ago that she had let him cry on her shoulder.

"He's heartbroken," Hermione mumbled. Narcissa's head snapped to Hermione's direction.

"What?" she asked.

She looked up at the older woman. "I said, Mrs. Malfoy, that he's _heartbroken_."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "Pansy did not mean _anything _to my son," she said, "It was probably something he ate."

"He hasn't eaten for almost a week," continued Hermione. "His system is shutting down because of that and the small amount of sleep he's been getting."

"He sleeps like a baby!" insisted Narcissa, stroking Malfoy's head.

She rolled her eyes at the woman's ignorance. "Yeah, like a baby with an ear infection."

"He's _fine_," she persisted.

A groan came from Malfoy, signaling that he was now in on the argument. Both women turned to look at him. "Mother," he said faintly. "Get the Mudblood out of here. Don't let father do this." Before Narcissa could talk to him further, his eyeballs rolled backward, into his head. A few seconds later, his eyelids fluttered shut.

Narcissa turned to glare at Hermione. "What did you _do _to him?"

However, Hermione was in shock. Malfoy had just attempted to get her out of this mess. She figured that even if he were to gain from it too, he would love to see her, the 'Mudblood,' miserable. "I did nothing," she answered. "I was woken up by the sound of him vomiting, and he was practically passed out on the floor. Looking peaky, I might add."

After standing, Narcissa walked passed Hermione without another word. "I'll be calling the doctor in, later today," she said from the doorframe. "Until then, watch him. As his wife, you're going to have to do things like this. I suggest you get used to waiting on him hand and foot."

By the time Hermione had come up with a remark, Narcissa had closed the door. Looking over at Malfoy's sleeping form, Hermione started feeling a little sick herself.

Draco did not feel any better when he woke up later on. If possible, he felt even worse. The room was starting to become light, due to the sun rising, and he could make out the Mudblood's sleeping form on the couch. The sodding Mudblood had actually helped him, and he resented her for that. He could feel the rage building up inside him, getting ready to burst. He let his eyes close as a wave of dizziness hit him.

When he had stumbled into the bathroom, he had realized something was wrong; when he had vomited, he had known; when he was unable to stand without the help of Granger, he was sure he was screwed for life. Mudbloods _do not help _Malfoys, he thought. _Malfoys help _themselves.

With that thought, he drifted between sleep and consciousness, jumping when he heard the door to his bedroom open and several pairs of feet enter.

"Ms. Granger," came the smooth voice of his father. His voice sounded close, and Draco guessed his father was standing next to his bed, "Would you care to talk to Dr. Maurrie about my son's current condition?"

Draco did not notice that the Mudblood was awake. "Yes," came a monotonous reply from the bushy haired Mudblood, probably standing near the door. "He has not eaten in almost a week, and barely sleeps at night; he's been vomiting the lining of his stomach."

The doctor finally spoke, his voice like a small mouse and coming from somewhere near Granger. "Why did he stop eating?" Draco knew this doctor; it was his family doctor, the doctor he saw every time his mother was worried he had contracted some exotic disease. He had been the doctor he _always _went to, never anyone else.

Pansy had gone to Dr. Maurrie too. This thought caused his stomach to do another flip and he held his eyes shut together tightly.

"What's wrong?" he heard the doctor ask him. Sure, he _could _have answered, he was perfectly capable of it. But Draco didn't want to. He felt as if his voice no longer needed to be used; his blood no longer needed to flow; his heart did not have a need to beat any more. "Can he not speak?"

"He's _fine_," insisted Granger as Draco continued to lie without answer or action. "He just wants to die because he no longer has Pansy to run the hair gel through hair."

There was a rushed footstep and creak in the floorboard. "You shall not speak of Pansy like that," Draco heard his mother say and Granger wince.

"Let _go _of me," the Mudblood said, low and dangerous.

Lucius, being ever charming, stepped in. "I apologize for their behavior," he said. "We've all been saddened by the death of the Parkinson family. It affected Ms. Granger here the most; Pansy was supposed to be the maid of honor in the wedding scheduled for November. As of right now, she is insisting that we cannot have the wedding without Pansy, so it has been cancelled."

"I did not know that he was engaged to you, Ms. Granger," said Dr. Maurrie excitedly. "Congratulations."

Draco could not hear her response, but heard the doctor laugh. "Of course, of course," said the mousy voice. "Back to young Mr. Malfoy here, you say he _is _capable of speech, correct?"

There was a pause and shuffle before his mother answered the doctor. "If he is, my husband and I have heard not," she said politely. "But I doubt that he would pretend."

"I think that, technically, there is nothing wrong," the doctor soon announced, after how long Draco did not know; he must have drifted to sleep. "He just stopped eating, probably after the death of one of his closest and oldest friends. Nothing some good sleep and full meals won't cure."

Narcissa emitted a relieved sigh. After hearing more shuffling, Draco thought they all had left the room and spared to open his eyes a tad. Granger, however, had not left the room. Standing near the closed door, she seemed to be a bit out of it. Her eyes were glazed over, and she looked deep in thought; what she was looking at, Draco couldn't say, but he figured she was not looking at anything in particular. Suddenly, she blinked and looked up at him. There was a long, awkward moment as she glared hard at him. "Don't kill yourself over her," she said quietly. "It's not the "Malfoy" way."

"Screw the Malfoy way," he murmured. This was not a sarcastic comment, or a comment just to reject what Granger was saying. It was a true comment. After the oddly comforting embrace with Granger, he had reverted back to his old Jackass self, and he knew it. That was just the way he was; the way he was raised to be.

But if Draco _truly _thought about it, did he _really _want to live by those ideas anymore? Was it not those same ideas that he was raised upon the ones that had caused him to lose Pansy? "The Malfoy Way" was to not attach yourself to anyone, only do things for personal gain; never to love; kill anyone that got in your way while gaining power.

The Parkinsons had been killed because they got in the way of something big; something having to do with the Dark Lord's gain of power. It was something Draco could never have stopped. Something only he could hope was stopped by someone else.

---

Hermione could not stand sleeping any longer once the sun had risen. Her dreams had been filled with Ron and Harry. So she got up, as quietly as she could, and changed into some day clothes. Over the past week, she had gotten used to wearing the Muggle clothing which Narcissa had collected to wear over the years. The strangest part was how they all fit perfectly.

She went about her business for the next two hours, reading until Narcissa, followed closely by Lucius and a man Hermione had never seen before, burst through the door. From what Hermione gathered, he was the doctor. With mousy brown hair, and a mousy voice, the man fully reminded Hermione of a pet mouse her cousin had once had. She looked over at Malfoy and noticed that he was awake, however subtle he tried to remain.

Lucius stepped in Hermione's view of Malfoy suddenly and gave her an unreadable smirk. "Ms. Granger," he said, in what would be recognized as a smooth voice by the doctor. "Would you care to talk to Dr. Maurrie about my son's current condition?"

"Yes," said Hermione tediously, "He has not eaten in almost a week, and barely sleeps at night; he's been vomiting the lining of his stomach."

Dr. Maurrie looked at Malfoy several times, but did not move any part of his body other than his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Why did he stop eating?" he asked. The doctor must have noticed Malfoy move, because he then moved closer to the bed. "What's wrong?" he asked the young man. After sitting in another silence, he turned back to everyone else. "Can he not speak?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, sick of Malfoy's game; she knew that he was awake. "He's _fine,_" she said, annoyed. "He just wants to die because he no longer has Pansy to run hair gel through his hair."

Before she could react, Narcissa had rushed across the room and taken Hermione's wrist in a tight grip. "You shall not speak of Pansy like that," she threatened.

Hermione lowered her own voice. "Let _go _of me," she replied.

Lucius turned to Dr. Maurrie as Narcissa released Hermione's wrist and only glared. "I apologize for their behavior," he said smoothly. "We've all been saddened by the death of the Parkinson family. It affected Ms. Granger here the most; Pansy was supposed to be the maid of honor in the wedding scheduled for November. As of right now, she is insisting that we cannot have the wedding without Pansy, so it has been cancelled."

_WHAT!_ Hermione's mind screamed. What exactly was he trying to pull?

Suddenly, realization hit Hermione. Didn't the doctor know that Lucius had only escaped from Azkaban a little over a week earlier? Why wasn't Lucius being taken away?

"I did not know that he was engaged to you, Ms. Granger," the doctor said with an exited squeak, pulling Hermione out of her musings, "Congratulations."

"Neither did I," she mumbled.

Strangely, Dr. Maurrie only laughed. "Of course, of course! Back to young Mr. Malfoy, you say that he _is _capable of speech, correct?"

However, before Hermione could answer, Narcissa cut in. "If he is, my husband and I have heard not," she said. "But I doubt that he would pretend."

The doctor than examined a seemingly sleeping Malfoy. After several minutes, he announced that he did not believe Malfoy had come down with a fatal disease, and only needed rest and food.

No matter what the doctor told them about Malfoy's condition, Hermione knew. She knew that he needed a lot more than just sleep and food; she knew that he needed Pansy; that there was more to it than just grief. He had lost the person he had loved the most; it was tearing him up inside.

Hermione thought of the time her pet fish had died. She had only been five at the time, and had taken the death hard. She remembered crying for over and hour, convincing her mother that they needed to have a proper funeral for the fish. It was the middle of winter, and the snow was over two feet deep; her mother obviously had said "no," but had suggested that, if Hermione truly wanted to, she could go outside herself.

So Hermione went outside, several layers of clothing on, a shovel in one hand, and the box containing her fish in another. After an hour, she returned inside with a triumphant look on her tear-streaked face. Burying the fish, however little of time she had it (and she doubted she _loved _the nameless fish), had been the closure. It had been her way of accepting it. Hermione knew that she could not have Malfoy go and bury Pansy, but she knew that he had not gotten the closure he needed; he had not truly accepted her death. He had accepted his _own _death.

She looked up from the carpet, which had been the staring spot while she mused, only to see Malfoy staring at her through drooping eyes. An awkward silence fell upon them as they stared at one another. "Don't kill yourself over her," she spoke quietly. "It's not the "Malfoy" Way."

He stared for a moment. The words that came from his mouth shocked Hermione. "Screw the Malfoy way."

---

"Listen to this, Malfoy," said Granger excitedly from the couch, a book propped on her knees. Draco rolled his eyes. His mother was forcing him to stay in his bed for a few days, and the Mudblood was his only company. "It says in here that the binding charm that is performed can only be successfully performed if both parties are willing. Neither of us are willing!"

"Does it also mention how that is only a ceremony performed for public weddings?" he asked, irritated.

Her face and shoulders fell. "No," she said as she turned the page.

"Does it also fail to mention that, if the parents of one are willing, the wedding can involve a binding charm?"

She sighed. "No."

Draco smirked; she was so clueless when it came to Wizarding tradition. "Just put the book away, and let me sleep."

Granger lifted her head from behind the book and her eyes narrowed. "You know your mother told me you cannot sleep until after you've eaten dinner."

He rolled his eyes again. "Does she not understand that I am _not _eating?" he asked angrily, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sadly," said Granger, her head now hidden behind the book once more, "She wants you to live."

To Draco, it was completely unfair of his parents to control everything in his life. He even had a _bedtime _now. They would not let Draco kill himself in peace!

Oh, the unfairness of the world.

It had been several days since the visit from Dr. Maurrie, and Draco was going insane. He had to spend _every _second of his day with _Granger_. His mother claimed that they could get to know each other before the wedding.

Draco would marry _anyone _other than Granger. _Anyone._ How was he expected to marry one of the people he had hated for the past six years? How as he expected to actually _get to know _Granger?

"Granger," he said, annoyed once more as she turned the page. "Stop turning the pages before I take the book from you and smack you with it."

Slowly, and calmly, she put the book face down on her knees. "I am _trying _to get us out of this!" she said, turning a bright red. "You should be helping me, not stopping me!"

Draco rolled his eyes once more. "Get over it, Granger," he told her. "It's going to happen whether we like it or not."

Her face grew dark. "This could help us out of this whole marriage thing!" she persisted, certainness in her voice. "Something in this very book which I hold in my _Mudblood _hands is the key out of this!"

Before Draco could react or remark, Lucius had opened the door and strode in.

"I'll be taking that, Ms. Granger," he said calmly, outstretching his hand, waiting for her to put the book in his palm so he could burn it and any chances of them ruining his plans.

Granger, however, stood her ground. "No," she said bravely. "It's not fair that you get to know _everything_. I want to have a fighting chance."

"Sadly," said Lucius coldly, tearing the book from the young woman's hands, "I'm not a fair person. Just to make life even more _unfair_ for you, I am banning you from leaving this room. You are not to enter any room in the house without permission, most specifically the library. You are only to step foot into the hall during an emergency or for mealtimes."

With the book in his hands, and the room reasonably more heated than it had been before, Lucius Malfoy swept from Draco's bedroom, leaving behind two _very_ ticked off people.

---

**Author's Note:** I would just like to explain that the part with Ron at the beginning happens the _same night _as what comes after it with Draco and Hermione. Remember this. Also, I tend to overlap things. It will show it in third person Draco, then third person Hermione. This only happens with some dialogue, but anything having to do with Draco and Hermione at the beginning pages are overlapping. I would like to thank all of my reviewers, in case I did not personally thank some of you like I have been trying with the "Reply" thing. I would also like to thank Monica for beta-ing this for me. Even though it took her a few months. :) It doesn't matter how long she took, because she did a wonderful job. Trust me.

Your Author,

Lee

IMPORTANT NOTE BY LEE'S BETA: Please do not be angry with Lee for the long time it took to update this. It is my fault. I've had this chapter in my possession for several months, and only just finished it. I promise to do things quicker from now on.

Love,  
Monica

**P.S. Author's Note:** Don't really be mad at Monica. I wasn't planning on posting this until after On My Own was finished anyway. And OMO was not finished until about two weeks ago anyway. So put away the torches and pitchforks. Now. :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Short Recap:**

_Her face grew dark. "This could help us out of this whole marriage thing!" she persisted, certainness in her voice. "Something in this very book which I hold in my __Mudblood __hands is the key out of this!"_

_Before Draco could react or remark, Lucius had opened the door and strode in._

"_I'll be taking that, Ms. Granger," he said calmly, outstretching his hand, waiting for her to put the book in his palm so he could burn it and any chances of them ruining his plans._

_Granger, however, stood her ground. "No," she said bravely. "It's not fair that you get to know __everything__. I want to have a fighting chance."_

"_Sadly," said Lucius coldly, tearing the book from the young woman's hands, "I'm not a fair person. Just to make life even more __unfair__ for you, I am banning you from leaving this room, most specifically the library. You are only to step foot into the hall during an emergency or for mealtimes."_

_With the book in his hands, and the room reasonably more heated than it had been before, Lucius Malfoy swept from Draco's bedroom, leaving behind two __very__ ticked off people._

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Four**

Charlie had been knocking to get in the house when he was attacked from behind. He said there was no noise; he had checked only seconds before behind his back. He had been stabbed. Simply stabbed in the back. It was not meant to kill Charlie, it was only a warning. But no one could figure out what kind of warning it was.

It was all too confusing too think about for an extended period of time, Ron decided. Instead, he occupied his mind with thoughts of where Hermione could be. Of course, he could not possibly know how this stabbing was connected to Hermione's abduction. He could not possibly know that, at the same moment he was thinking this, only a couple hundred miles away Hermione was eating dinner. He could not possibly know that it was with the enemy; the villain. He could not possibly know that this was part of an elaborate plan.

"Harry," started Ron as they both laid in bed that night, "Do you think we'll ever find her?"

He heard Harry inhale sharply before answering. "I sure as hell hope so."

---

The same dinner that Ron could not possibly know Hermione was eating had finally finished. Lucius had not spoken to her, or told her the terrible news yet. He was saving it for later.

To this, Lucius smirked. Before Hermione could ponder his smirk further, however, he spoke. "Are you enjoying your stay here, Ms. Granger?"

She groaned, balling her fist up at her sides as the house-elves came and cleaned up the small table Hermione had been sitting at. "You know very well, you bastard, that I hate _every_ moment of _every_ day."

"What would you say if I told you the date to the wedding has been moved up?"

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten. She wanted to jump on him and strangle him to death; anything to stop this from happening. All she could do, however, was stare at him while chewing her tongue and counting higher and higher in her head to prevent her from doing anything unreasonable.

"The exact date, as of this morning, is September twenty-first," he continued, "A Sunday."

"That's only two weeks," she protested, growing slightly nervous. "We need more time than two weeks!"

"With the death of the Parkinson family, we cannot take anymore chances."

Malfoy seemed to suddenly catch his voice at this point in the conversation. Hermione had almost forgotten he was in the same room as her. "I know the Dark Lord did that," he said angrily. "And I know something is going on."

Lucius only ignored his son, speaking once more to Hermione. "I advise you to be kind to Narcissa, she is very fond of her wedding dress," he said, as if it were useful information.

"I will _not _marry that bloody git!"

"If you can find a way out in the two short weeks which you have, _be my guest_," Lucius offered before turning on his heel and swiftly leaving Malfoy's bedroom, his cloak billowing behind him and his boots clicking loudly.

"He's right you know," said Malfoy from his bed, which he was still being forced to stay in by Narcissa. Hermione had to admit, it was pretty amusing watching Malfoy unable to do anything he wanted. Of course, the past week that she had been forced to spend in the same room as him was absolutely horrible. But it was still funny to watch him cringe whenever his mother would come in and try to feed him like a baby ("Here comes the broom, Drakie," Hermione recalled her say one time.).

Hermione turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. "What _exactly_ is he right about?"

He rolled his eyes, as if the answer were obvious. "You have to be nice to my mother if you want that dress," he replied.

Glaring, Hermione stood up. "I am not going to be nice to your _sodding _mother to wear a _sodding_ wedding dress in a wedding that I don't want to be a part of in any _sodding_ way."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Don't insult my mother," he said dangerously.

Hermione let out a loud groan and threw her hands in the air. "Do you not get it, Malfoy? I don't want to marry you!" she said very slowly. "I want to get out of here. I'd rather marry NEVILLE than you."

"You act as if _I_ want to marry you," he said, rolling his eyes.

"What the bloody hell have you done to prove otherwise? You haven't done anything to get us out of this," she continued.

He rolled his eyes once more and looked away from Hermione, mumbling something.

Hermione groaned again and stood up, storming out of the room and into the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her as hard as she could, rattling the doorframe. The way he rolled his eyes infuriated her; the way he insisted on mumbling whenever aggravated with her; the way he just didn't seem to care that he was going to throw his life away to marry a Mudblood. Oh how she wanted to strangle him, along with his annoying father.

There was no way in hell that she was going to marry Draco Malfoy. _No way in hell_.

---

Being confined to his bed was not an all too enjoyable experience. The bed being in the same room that Hermione Granger was also restricted to made it a million times worse. Especially when you're Draco Malfoy. His parents, of course, were trying to let them "get to know each other." But when Draco says he doesn't want to get to know someone, it should be taken seriously. It had only been two weeks since he had heard of Pansy's death and they had expected him to move on; they expected him to move on with _Granger_.

Draco cringed at the mere thought of Granger. He knew what the marriage ceremony consisted of, having attended many during his childhood, and knew that the ceremony had to be sealed with a kiss. This was so the magic surrounding the ceremony would be complete. And, if Draco didn't know any better, he knew what else his parents would be doing to seal the deal. An old tradition used during arranged marriages. Of course, Draco was not sure that he had ever attended a wedding where the parents had resorted to such drastic measures to _consummate_ the marriage. Then again, none of those couples had Lucius and Narcissa controlling the whole thing.

He could not do that with Granger. The mere thought make Draco gag.

"Granger!" he groaned desperately, trying to get her to come out of the bathroom. He knocked on the door once more. "We need to talk, _now_!"

"About what?" she hissed from just beyond the door.

"About the wedding!" he answered incredulously.

The door swung open and Draco almost fell backwards as Granger opened the door and exited swiftly. She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a thoroughly annoyed look. "I miss my family and my friends, Malfoy. I know you miss Pansy, so I know that _you _know what I am talking about," she said angrily. "I remember that you're a Death Eater, but I know you're different. Professor Dumbledore saw it that night and knew; Dumbledore was _never_ wrong. If you had _one_ shred of humanity in you, Malfoy, and I know you do, you'd help me."

Without missing a beat, Draco responded. "Dumbledore _was_ wrong," he said daringly. Her eyes flashed dangerously, but before she could do anything he continued. "He was wrong about Snape; there was nothing _ever _good about him." Dumbledore's one flaw, as Draco saw it, was that he always had to believe the best of people. So, when Snape said he was sorry, and that he was truly working for him, what was Dumbledore going to do? Refuse him? Never. Dumbledore knew mercy.

He had even shown Draco mercy; compassion.

Draco shook this thought from his head. He'd rather not have more than two deaths on his conscience at the present time, thank you very much.

Granger's eyes, he noticed, narrowed at the mention of Severus Snape. "Everyone makes mistakes, but I doubt he was just talking when he said he saw something in you that night," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Don't even try to say he was wrong about you, because I doubt that Snape," she said his name with very much venom, "cried when he heard about the death of Pansy Parkinson. The death of anyone, for that matter. From what I've heard, Snape never had much choice in who he became, but you do."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was time for Granger to receive a long overdue wake-up call. "For all of your cleverness and knowledge, you lack one thing," he started. "Life experience. You know nothing of the real world, except from what you read in the papers and from history. But let me tell you something, history won't help you here. What is happening right now is unwritten; life is unwritten. To win this game you must make your own rules. Life is just one disappointment after another, and they say you should 'roll with the punches' and come back stronger, but you can only do it for so long without becoming numb and jaded."

"So are you telling me that the death of Pansy was, for lack of a better term, the straw the broke the camel's back?"

"You have no idea the pain I have endured for the past year of my life, Granger—"

"And you act as if I have lived a harm-free life safe behind an impenetrable shield—"

"You have been," he said. "Until now. That shield was broken the moment Dumbledore was killed and now I welcome you to the real world, Granger. Here you are; isn't it great?" Draco drawled sarcastically, motioning to the area surrounding him with his arms. He then shook his head. "I thought you'd understand, having been taken away from all you've ever known, like me. You were forced from the place you called home to come here and marry me. I was forced from that life I had known, one of being served, to one I did not want anything to do with at all, one of being the servant. I lost all my privileges; my life; most of my friends; almost my family. More importantly, while I was able to save my family, I was not able to save the one thing that truly meant something to me, Pansy. My life has been changed into something I do not want, something I have no control over. But I'm going to fight in the only way I can: I'm going to save my family no matter what it takes."

He cast his eyes downward, closing them and breathing deeply.

"There might be a way we can get out of it," she said in a hushed, slow voice after a moment of thought. The death of Pansy still seemed to rest upon his shoulders as he thought. All the meetings he had with the Dark Lord flew in and out of his mind. Granger's suggestion seemed incredulous, there was no where to run to; nothing more he could do but sacrifice what would be a free life for his family's safety. "There must be a way out, even if you say there isn't. Just one loophole in it all. But we'll need help. I know that right now Ron and Harry are probably—"

"I care about my family, Granger, and what happens to it," he spoke, angry once more. "Let me tell you once again, there is _no _way to get out of this. I have thought up plan after plan, trust me, it is just _wishful thinking_; all it will ever be is _wishful thinking_. The Dark Lord gets what he wants, and what he wants is us married right now. Whether or not he is trying to get revenge does not matter, what matters is that my father will do it anyway; he will follow _whatever_ orders he is given. And I will too, because my loyalties, Mudblood, lie with the Dark Lord from now on."

---

Most nights, due to the events of the past few months, Harry barely got any sleep. This was pretty bad, because he had just recently started to travel and move much more than ever before. His life, it seemed, was like one Quidditch Game after the next. Every snitch was a Horcrux, and almost every time it seemed as if Voldemort was ahead by hundreds of points even after he captured the snitch. Of course, Death Eaters and everyone else on his side was his opposing team, and each challenge he was presented with, every trouble, was a bludger. _Life is one big Quidditch match._

He never shared any of these thoughts with Ron. Not anymore. He had tried to remain close, and knew he should, but part of him was causing him to distance himself from everyone. Knowing there was a group of homicidal people with the aim of killing him made him even more wary of getting too close to anyone. Harry knew that Voldemort already sensed what had happened with Ginny; she was now a target.

"Go to sleep," groaned Ron as Harry stood up and made the creaky floorboard squeak.

"I'll be back later, when I'm tired," responded Harry as he opened the door and went into the hall, closing the door behind him once more. He quietly creped down the hallway, stopping at the one door he had feared to go near all summer long; the one door he just could not dare to open.

However, tonight would be different, tonight he would slowly open the door, hoping it would not creak as he did so. Once inside, he would gently wake Ginny.

Or so he hoped as he stood in front if the plain door, hesitating once again. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that week, he gave up, stalking back to Ron's room while mentally slapping himself for his failed attempt at—

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

He had been so immersed in his own thoughts that he had not heard the door behind him open; the same door he had tried to open himself.

Turning around, he found a very tired looking Ginevra Weasley leaning against her partially open doorway. He gave her an apologetic look, but did not respond.

"Why don't you ever open my door?" she asked. "I know you've tried, I hear you outside my door every few nights, but you never knock, you never open my door. Hell, you never even _look_ at me anymore. You said that nothing would be different between us, but everything has changed between us."

"I didn't mean for it to be this way, Gin," he started. He had to pause before continuing, however. Why _had _he not been able to knock on or open her door? It was in front of him every night, he always had the chance. His green eyes dimmed when he remembered. "Because I can't risk hurting you," he explained. "I've been coming here, trying to fulfill my own selfish need of having someone I love around me, but then I realize... I can't. I love you too much, Ginny, to let you get hurt. So every night, when I've stood in front of your door, just as I was about to open the door, or to knock, I'd remember this and just stop and turn around. That's what I have to do right now, too, Gin, for you. I told you already that enough people have died for me, it's my turn to die for someone."

"Don't you dare suggest you are going to _die_, Potter," replied Ginny, both anger and sadness audible in her voice as Harry started to turn back towards Ron's bedroom. "_Don't you dare_," she grabbed his wrist and twisted around him to face her as she spoke, "turn away from me again, Harry James Potter."

He gently pulled his wrist from her grasp, holding her hand for a few moments. "What do you suggest I do?" he asked assertively.

"Just stay with me," she said, smiling, holding onto his hand.

For a moment, Ginny actually thought he would, for he was holding her hand and looking deep into her eyes. But suddenly... their contact was broken, he was taking steps backward that he had not remembered taking forward in the first place, and he was gone. Before she could say anything, he was gone.

At day-break, Ginny could be found sitting outside in the cool morning air of the summer, a little ways from the house. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine that Hermione was still there; the war was over; the new year at Hogwarts had only just started; Dumbledore was giving his start of term speech. She just wanted everything to be right again.

Harry had stepped into her life when she was only ten, but even then he changed it. He was her first real crush, she talked about him nonstop, and she couldn't talk _to_ him. Then when he had not seemed interested, she did not know what to do. Her world, as in a cliché fashion, seemed to fall apart. She had tried to move on with other boys, and, under Hermione's advice, realize that Harry either liked her, or didn't; if it turned out to be the latter, he was not meant for her, simple as that.

Once again, however, her life was changed. It had only been one kiss, but she knew all her feelings for Harry had come back, and they were stronger than ever.

As luck would have it, _Harry's _life changed, which caused Ginny's to also change once more.

The weeks that followed Dumbledore's funeral and their break-up went by fine, because Harry talked to Ginny like he would a friend. Besides the fact that they did not show affection to each other, it seemed the same. He went about his business, talking to her occasionally, making jokes with her; he even wrote her the time he stayed at his aunt and uncle's.

After Hermione left, though, he changed. Already Harry had been worrying about searching for the Horcruxes and Voldemort, adding Hermione to his list of things to watch made things even more difficult. Everything once again changed.

Ginny often wondered what had prompted Hermione to leave in the first place. If anything, Hermione, along with the Weasleys, seemed to be the last person that would ever abandon someone she was close to. Ginny also knew that Hermione was not selfish at all; the studious girl was always putting others before herself. Hermione had seemed to be there until the end, that nothing could separate Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Not even the chance of death.

So what could possibly have made Hermione change her mind about the whole idea of "best friends forever means we go down together"?

Ginny laid down in the bright green grass to ponder this further. Glancing up, she stared at the trees lining the area around her, noticing one that seemed particularly appealing. It's white bark and flowers seemed to make it glow. It radiated so much that Ginny wondered how she had never noticed it before. She tilted her head to the side, trying to remember it. She could not.

When Ginny noticed a fruit blossoming on the tree, she knew why she could not remember it.

---

Lucius smirked, having just walked by in time to hear the last line Draco spoke. He felt proud of his son, telling that filthy Mudblood exactly how it was. He only wished he had heard what else he had said as he continued to walk towards the east wing to talk to his wife. Of course, there were times that Lucius felt disappointed in his son, like when he realized that Draco had actually gone to the extent of showing public displays of affection with the Mudblood so he would not have to marry her. It seemed, however, that Draco had finally realized his true calling and chosen the correct side for this war. Before, Lucius knew his son was neutral and only doing what he needed to not get killed. But now, his son was fully loyal to the Dark Lord. He was actually willing to give up his own freedom and marry a Mudblood, and, for once, Lucius was _truly_ proud of his son.

He knocked four times on the door to Narcissa's study. It opened only moments after the fourth knock. His blonde wife sighed as she opened the door. "Yes, dear?" she asked, leaving the door open as she went behind her desk and sat down once more.

"I just heard Draco telling Ms. Granger that his loyalties lie with the Dark Lord," he said proudly.

The only sound that came from Narcissa was sort of a whimper. "Why was he telling her that?" she asked weakly, picking up the cup sitting in front of her and taking a sip.

"I don't know," he shrugged sitting on the lounge chair in front of the desk. "But doesn't it make you proud that he is going to be a Death Eater, a _real_ one. I know he originally became one only to save us, but I think now he truly understands what we are trying to do. I think Draco realizes how good our ideas are and our message."

"Or you completely missed the rest of the conversation and only heard him joking," said Narcissa, taking one more sip after speaking.

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Tell me the reason, Narcissa, as to why, ever since my return here, you have treated me with less respect then ever?"

"Well maybe if my son's life was not in danger I would respect you a little more," she answered confidently. "Seeing as it _is _your fault he broke the law and was tried before the Wizengamot in the first place."

"How is it my fault? I was in Azkaban."

"You are his father, he looks up to you," she said, putting down her teacup and standing up. "He did not just join the Death Eaters to save me, he did it to save your life too. I think that you might forget that sometimes. Draco will do anything _you _want him to. Go ahead and tell him to kill himself now, because that's all that is going to happen from all of this. You will make him so miserable that he probably will someday. He just lost Pansy, and I realize how much he loved her. You are forcing him into this marriage, and into having a child, with some Mudblood that he has hated for the past seven years of his life. I remember you telling me that she got you thinking about the Dark Lord's true intentions, but you decided that she was just trying to trick you. I, however, do not think she was trying to trick you, I think that the Mudblood is actually on to something. Think about it, Lucius, even if she gets pregnant _now_ she will not have this child until next May. The war will be coming to an end soon; before this nonexistent child is even a few months old I'd say. So what is the point of this?"

Lucius did not respond, but Narcissa could see that he was _still _wondering about the Dark Lord's intentions, no matter what he had said before.

* * *

**Author's Note: **GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN!

Yeah, that's right. Here I am, finally posting. Actually, I did write this before the last chapter was up, but a bunch of stuff happened, and continued to happen.

But that's not the point, the point is that I've almost gotten up to chapter seven written, so if you like what I've done here, you'll like what happens next even more. Or so I hope.

I'm so sorry about the long wait.

Oh yes, and just so you know, any mistakes, are all me because I've no beta. But it does not matter, cause if anything is really so badly wrong, I know she'll just tell me and I'll come back and fix it before a majority of any of my readers do. :-P

I missed this place.

Love, LeeLee the Lunatic.


	5. Chapter Five

**Short Recap:**

"_You are his father, he looks up to you," she said, putting down her teacup and standing up. "He did not just join the Death Eaters to save me, he did it to save your life too. I think that you might forget that sometimes. Draco will do anything you want him to. Go ahead and tell him to kill himself now, because that's all that is going to happen from all of this. You will make him so miserable that he probably will someday. He just lost Pansy, and I realize how much he loved her. You are forcing him into this marriage, and into having a child, with some Mudblood that he has hated for the past seven years of his life. I remember you telling me that she got you thinking about the Dark Lord's true intentions, but you decided that she was just trying to trick you. I, however, do not think she was trying to trick you, I think that the Mudblood is actually on to something. Think about it, Lucius, even if she gets pregnant now she will not have this child until next May. The war will be coming to an end soon; before this nonexistent child is even a few months old I'd say. So what is the point of this?"_

_Lucius did not respond, but Narcissa could see that he was still wondering about the Dark Lord's intentions, no matter what he had said before_.

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Five**

"This tree is _impossible_ to grow in England, I looked it up," Ginny said calmly for the fourth time to her parents as she stalked back to the house closely behind them. "It has white bark, white flowers, and some kind of oddly shaped white pear grows on it. Why don't you believe me?"

"Ginny, dear," said Molly, "Are you sure you just had not fallen asleep and dreamt of this tree?"

"Mum, I know what I saw, and what I saw was a—"

"A tree that cannot grow in England, got it," finished Arthur, slightly tense. He stopped and turned around to face his only daughter as Molly continued to walk back to the house to continue cooking dinner. "Ginny, you came to us and told us that you knew something about Hermione, something that could help us find her. We happily followed you up a hill so you could show us a tree that is not even there. What do you want me to say, that I completely believe you and that it is the best evidence we have?"

"It's the only evidence, Dad," pointed out the youngest redhead.

He sighed. "I know, Ginny," he said, gripping her shoulder, "You still must not worry, because we will find Hermione."

Smiling, he turned back towards the house, leaving a disheveled Ginny behind. "Don't you ever wonder why she left?" she called out just as Arthur neared the door.

He turned back around. "That question is _always_ on my mind."

"I did not make up that tree, Dad," Ginny explained, walking towards her father. "It was there, I swear, and I have a feeling that it can help us find the answer to that question. You know my feelings are rarely ever wrong."

Once again, he sighed, but then smiled. "Care to explain to me what how this tree could answer our question?"

---

Hermione pointed a finger at the blonde standing only a few feet away from her. "You are lying!" she insisted. "Your loyalties lie with _no one_. You are only on a side to protect yourself and your family." She paused for a minute and her hand fell to her side. "Wait... you joined the Death Eaters to protect _them_, your parents."

"Thank you, Mudblood," drawled Malfoy sarcastically.

"But you act as if you don't understand why I ran away. You joined for the same exact reason that I ran, you love them."

"The difference, Granger?" he asked. "You ran away from your problems, and didn't solve anything. I faced mine, and solved everything."

"Excuse me, you did not solve a bleeding thing," she exclaimed. "Being a coward did not solve _anything_."

"You're one to talk about cowardice, you _ran_."

She gave a frustrated sigh.

"So do I win this one, or do you just need a minute to think?" he asked snidely, sitting back down in his chair tiredly.

"I did not run out of fear for my own life—"

"And I did not join the Death Eaters out of fear for _my _own life," he added.

Hermione looked down at the ground and bit her bottom lip. "So what do we do now?" she asked as she too sat down in her chair, propping her head on top of her hands.

He shrugged. "We can do one of two things," he told her. "We can either go along with what the Dark Lord wants, or we can fight. Either way, we get married. But with the former we'll end up having a child, polluting my bloodline, and possibly ending all your relations with the Weasels and Potter. With the latter, there's a good chance we will end up dead, or in hiding."

"I say we fight," recommended Hermione.

Malfoy nodded. "I concur."

---

Draco never thought for once that he would see eye to eye with a Mudblood, but it was his only choice. It all started with a fight, and ended with a deal.

"You are lying!" shouted Granger shrilly as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "Your loyalties lie with _no one_. You are only on a side to protect yourself and your family." Suddenly, her hand dropped to her side. "Wait... you joined the Death Eaters to protect _them_, your parents."

He refrained from rolling his eyes at her. "Thank you, Mudblood," he said, opting for sarcasm instead.

"But you act as if you don't understand why I ran away. You joined for the same exact reason that I ran, you love them," she said, as if she were trying to make a good point.

"The _difference_, Granger?" he asked, not believing that she was trying to compare their situations. "You ran _away_ from your problems, and didn't solve anything. I _faced_ mine, and solved _everything_."

"Excuse me, you did not solve a bleeding thing," she once again shouted in her shrill way. "Being a coward did not solve _anything_."

"You're one to talk about cowardice, you _ran_."

The Mudbloods only response to this was to sigh annoyingly, as if her sigh would change his mind.

"So do I win this one, or do you just need a minute to think?" he couldn't cease from asking with a smirk on his face, sitting down in his chair.

"I did not run out of fear for my own life—"

"And I did not join the Death Eaters out of fear for _my _own life," Draco interrupted, making his own good point.

The brunette averted the stare to the ground and started to chew her bottom lip. "So what do we do now?" asked Granger as she too sat down in the chair placed behind her.

Draco could only shrug. "We can do one of two things," he started. "We can either go along with what the Dark Lord wants, or we can fight. Either way, we get married. But with the former we'll end up having a child, polluting my bloodline, and possibly ending all your relations with the Weasels and Potter. With the latter, there's a good chance we will end up dead, or in hiding."

"I say we fight."

He said the only thing that made sense to say at the moment. "I concur."

He knew that it was the only plan they had anymore; it was their last chance of escaping each other, not to mention the Dark Lord.

---

The white, pear-shaped fruit that Ginny held in front of her father's face was indeed glowing. "It was the only one left on the tree when I found it this morning," she told him as they sat at long kitchen table in the Burrow opposite each other. "But I believe there was more."

Arthur took the fruit from her and, after propping his glasses on the top of his head, he examined it closer. "It is unlike any fruit I've ever seen," he said in amazement, then looked up a Ginny. "Did you find out what kind it is?"

She shook her head lamentably. "But I do know someone who could help us," she offered helpfully.

"Who?" he father asked as he inspected the fruit once more.

"Neville Longbottom," she answered.

The almost gangly Neville arrived several minutes later, through the fireplace. Ginny had already sent him an owl that she needed his help with something.

Mrs. Weasley greeted him and led him to the kitchen where Arthur was still inspecting the fruit with Ginny, then went upstairs to attend to some cleaning.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley, Gi—is that a _Niveus Impedio Pomum_?" asked an astonished Neville halfway through his greeting, eyes growing wide at the sight of the white fruit.

Ginny gave her father a look as if to say 'I told you so' before looking back at Neville. "This is what I need your help with," she told him.

"The White Fruit of Allurement has been banned in England for years," he told them almost excitedly, causing Arthur to almost drop it. "I never thought I'd see one..."

"There is an illegal tree growing on my property," Arthur exclaimed, handing it back to Ginny. "We need to destroy that tree as soon as possible!"

Neville shook his head. "I wouldn't try that," he said as Ginny stood up to hand him the fruit. "The tree that bears this fruit will kill you before you can destroy it. The only way to safely rid it from your lives is to eat all the fruit on the tree. But that is highly dangerous, because each tree is grown with a mission, a temptation for the person who eats the fruit. The first fruit eaten is just to keep the person coming back to eat the rest, after all have been eaten, the person has limited self-control."

"What if they ate all but one?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Whoever ate them would be under some control, and would give into the original temptation, but the last fruit always holds the final and most critical temptation within it; it holds in the most power," he explained. He ran his fingers over the fruit in his hand. "Are you telling me this is the last one?"

She nodded. "There were no more on the tree I found," she told him.

"Well, whoever ate the first fruit is the only person who can eat the rest," he said, still looking at the glowing fruit. "It is complicated _very_ Dark magic that creates these trees. Whoever put this one in your backyard had a specific purpose in doing so."

"So you were right, Ginny," Arthur said, eyeing the glowing fruit once more. "But how did Hermione not know it was linked to Dark magic?"

"That's the thing with the White Fruit of—wait, did you say Hermione was the one to eat this fruit?" he suddenly asked. Realization dawned on his face. "I do remember my Grandmum telling me about that."

They both nodded. "She's been missing for a little over a month, and she left here about two months ago," explained Ginny sadly.

"But why did she run?" questioned Neville, raising an eyebrow. "She always seemed to be the one who would never, in a million years, leave Harry. I've even heard her say it herself."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Since the day we got back here, Hermione woke up early in the morning to go up on top of the hill, to think," she thought out loud, realization setting in. "She started going back everyday after that. But the morning before she left... she didn't wake up early; instead, she slept as late as Ron. But she had a restless sleep, the second the sun started coming up she started shaking, and woke me up. Hermione woke up too, several times, but just told me that she had a bad dream and went back to sleep. I didn't though, because she had _never_ had nightmares. Hermione left that night."

"But if this trees purpose was to lure Hermione away from here, and she did not eat the last fruit, why did she still leave?" Arthur wondered. "More importantly, what was she being lured _to_?"

Ginny looked at her father. "This fruits sole purpose was not just to get Hermione away from here. It was to do something else too..."

"Well, as I said before, the last fruit usually holds what the creator would call the most vital temptation," said Neville, putting the fruit on the table. "And there has never been a recorded case of someone able to fight off the temptation of eating the last fruit. That was probably why Hermione was having a bad sleep, her body was trying to get her to go eat it, so the tree would wither and die, and the allurement would be complete. She must have fought it off, but still could not fight off the other thoughts that had been put into her mind."

"What do you mean, that this fruit puts things in your head?" asked Arthur worriedly.

"It is a very rare plant, Mr. Weasley, a very rare, Dark plant. It is illegal for good reasons, it is almost as if the person is under the Imperius Curse," explained Neville. "It controls their mind until they do as they are supposed to do. But it is also known to put memories into your head that aren't yours, and images. You remember things that never happened, and forget things that _did_ happen. As I was saying before, not many know it is linked to Dark magic because of its white coloring; most connect white with good. The person who originally created this breed of the plant was You-Know-Who. He took a simple temptation plant that grew in the most exotic places and added Dark magic to its roots. He produced more and more, and planted them in the yards of people he wanted as followers. Lucius Malfoy claimed that there was one in his yard, and that he ate the fruit thinking that it was simply just one that grew there. Of course, he couldn't prove this, because once the last fruit is eaten, the tree dies and disappears forever. Later, he changed his story to that of being under the actual Imperius Curse, and provided the Ministry with tons of money, of course."

Arthur nodded. "I remember hearing that he claimed that he was tempted by a fruit, but most thought he had just gone insane and others said it was only a joke," he said. "I never thought that it could actually have been the truth—"

"Oh, he was _not_ telling the truth, Mr. Weasley," Neville interrupted. "He said he only ate _one_ fruit of that tree, while all others said that it was at least seven fruits that they had to eat. It is _possible_ that he did eat one, but it takes many more for ones mind to be altered into believing what You-Know-Who wants."

"So are you saying that this is the work of You-Know-Who?" asked Ginny incredulously, looking at the fruit sitting on the table before her.

"He created thousands of them," said Neville, "But only his followers know where they are kept and know how to move them. Other people have tried to recreate them, so they know how they can destroy it, but none have created one as powerful as those he made."

"But why would You-Know-Who want _Hermione_?" Arthur pondered. "It's completely understandable if he wants Harry, but Hermione..."

"He's trying to use her for something," said Ginny. "He knows she is powerful, and he knows she is also one of Harry's best friends; he knows that to get to Harry he needs to get to those that Harry loves."

"That is a good reason, but why a _Muggleborn_? If he was truly planning on using someone powerful, he would never pick what he calls a "Mudblood,"" said Arthur. "It makes more sense if he tried to take you, being powerful, close to Harry's heart, _and_ a Pureblood."

Ginny shook her head. "That must not be the only reason then," she said. "He must want her for something else, something much more sinister."

---

Five o'clock in the morning on a Saturday was not usually a time that Ron would be awake at, but seeing as it could somehow get Hermione back to him, he was willing to get up just this one time. It was not only him, however, it was everyone inside the Burrow up. Harry, Mr. Weasley, Ginny, and even Crookshanks. Neville had also arrived earlier to help them, Luna Lovegood skipping along behind him. The only one not there was Mrs. Weasley, who had gone to bring Charlie some food at the hospital.

"It's almost time," announced Ginny as she glanced at her watch.

Everyone put down their mugs of coffee, or pieces of toast, and stood, all heading for the door leading outside. It was still dark outside, but they knew the sun would be rising in the next few minutes. All followed Ginny in silence as they headed up the hill a little ways from the house. They remained silent still as they neared the trees.

"Let's all just sit right here and wait," suggested Ginny as she sat down, crossed-legged, on the ground. To Ron's surprise, Harry sat down right next to her and started talking to her in a hushed voice.

While the former couple talked inaudibly, everyone else waited anxiously, especially Neville, who seemed excited about seeing a rare tree.

"Oy, Neville," asked Ron suddenly. The young man being questioned approached him. "How do you know about this tree? Isn't Herbology just the study of magical _plants _and not trees?"

"Well the origin of this tree is a plant really, and Professor Sprout let me borrow this book that was half about the plant, and half about this tree," he explained. "Normally I wouldn't care too much about a tree, but the story behind this one is so interesting. You know, the plant it comes from is in Africa, in a place that only one very peaceful tribe lives in. You-Know-Who was the first person other than the people of that tribe to use the plant for anything. Not many people knew about it, it was considered only a myth. But, you know Snape, he told Dumbledore that the plant was real not even twenty years ago, and the Ministry decided that in order to keep people in control of themselves, they had to ban it. For the most part, it has been unheard of since it was banned. This is probably the first real case since it was banned."

"No offense, Neville," said Ron in astonishment a few moments after he finished. "But when did you get so bloody smart?"

Neville blushed, and then shrugged.

Ten minutes later, the sun was beaming over the hill top, and they all jumped up as a white tree slowly started to appear before them. First, its trunk. From the bottom up, it appeared as they all stood amazed at the glowing tree.

"It's more amazing then I could ever have imagined," said Neville, rushing towards the tree at once.

"Ginny took the last fruit off of it," said Harry, "So why didn't it wither away?"

"The tree is connected to its fruit," answered Neville as he made slow circles around the tree, stopping occasionally to look closer. "It knows when one fruit is eaten so it can make the next one ripe. All the flowers are produced at the same time, but still the next fruit will not be ripe until the one that grew before it is eaten. You are right, Ginny, there are no more flowers, so this is definitely the last one."

"The question is, Neville," started Harry as they all approached the tree apprehensively. "How do we know what Hermione was lured away _for_?"

"Why can't we just eat the fruit?" Luna spoke up suddenly. "If what Neville says is true, it will still hold any temptation within it, and the strongest one at that. If one of us just eats it, and tells us all what they desire, then we'll know where Hermione is. I mean, it is only one fruit, what harm could it truly do?"

---

Lucius' plan had been practically flawless. Through suggestion of the Dark Lord, he had placed a simple tree that even Granger would not be able to distinguish as Dark magic nearby to her. As planned, it lured her in, and lured her to them.

His brow furrowed, however, as he pondered why she had not run into Draco's arms, insisting they'd be married right away, exclaiming he was her savior. His only conclusion was that he had made only one tiny mistake, but it did not matter. It worked. Whether or not she obliged, Granger was to marry Draco in a little over a week. Although, he took into account the recent conversation he had with his wife, and pondered further. Why go to all this trouble for nothing. He loathed admitting it to himself, but this plan seemed more and more pointless with each passing day. His faith in the Dark Lord had actually lessened slightly due to recent events.

As he made for his study he glanced at the window to the dark grounds of the manor. He stopped mid-step to double-take at what he had just seen. Something silver had just whizzed swiftly through the air like a bullet, but as he looked back, he saw nothing. He shook his head; it had been a long night. Surely it had just been a flicker of light from one of the many candles that lit the hallway. Still, Lucius headed for Draco's room for reassurance that they were indeed in bed.

Knocking four times on the wood door, he heard Draco grunt and tell Hermione to answer it. She shouted back that it was his room and he should do the honors of opening it for whoever she did not care to see anyway.

Lucius heard loud, stumbling footsteps and the door swung open to reveal a thoroughly exhausted looking Draco. He blinked several times before his eyes fully focused on his father. "Is something wrong?" he asked drowsily.

Lucius glanced into the room and saw Granger's figure underneath the blankets of the bed. For the second time that night, his brow furrowed. "Are you and Miss Granger—?"

Draco had quickly looked back and the bed and responded accordingly. "No," he said simply, than rolled his eyes. "Whoever gets to the bed first gets it for the night, so whoever gets into the bathroom first gets the bed, and tonight I was talking to mother, and when I came back, she was already sleeping."

"Maybe it would be best if we put her in the room adjacent to yours," suggested Lucius. "I daresay you should not have to fight a Mudblood for your own bed."

Draco nodded sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "We'll be sure to do that first thing in the morning," he said. "Now do you mind if I go back to sleep?"

Lucius inclined his head before walking away, hearing the door shut softly behind him as he strolled down the hallway between the portraits of his ancestors towards his study.

---

"The Malfoys," mumbled Ron suddenly.

"What do they have anything to do with this?" asked Arthur. They had long since left the tree, having collected a few leaves and fallen branches from it, and were now sitting around the table staring expectantly at Ron. Upon Luna's suggestion, he had insisted that he eat the fruit and find out where Hermione was.

"I want to go to the Malfoys," he answered. "In my head I saw a blonde, and we were married with chil—"

"What?" they all shouted incredulously.

Harry, who was sitting next to Ron, had been the only one not to shout. "What else did you see?"

Ron's eyes drooped. "I saw him, You-Know-Who," he continued. "Sitting in the Ministry, as if... as if he were the Minister of Magic. And—" his face went pale white and his eyes shot open to look at Harry. "You were gone. But I was truly happy, with my blonde, Pureblooded children—" he clutched his head in pain. "I want Draco, I need Malfoy so bad. I need to leave; I need to let him find me, save me from this terrible place."

"What goes Malfoy have to do with Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Not Hermione, me, he needs me, he wants me," bellowed Ron.

Over Ron's continued mutterings of Malfoy, Neville spoke. "I told you that it held the most powerful temptation of all within it, the last fruit. Right now he's going through the pains of not leaving. It should pass within a few hours, as he's not ate any more of the fruit."

The day passed with Ron's continued mumbles of wanting Draco Malfoy. Neville had drifted back to his house, reassuring them it would pass eventually. At a certain point, Harry and the rest just gave in and realized how funny the situation was.

"You do realize you want another guy, Ron, correct?" asked Harry, amused. Those still around the table laughed silently to themselves.

"I don't care!" he shouted. "There's nothing wrong with that! He loves me, I swear!"

Unable to contain himself, Harry burst out laughing.

"Oh, so you think this is funny?" inquired Ron angrily, folding his arms across his chest. "It wouldn't be funny if it were you!"

They all rolled their eyes and decided it was best to give up poking fun at him except Luna who stayed beside him, talking to him. Harry was barely out of his seat when the door was opened and in rushed Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I have news that no one will be glad to hear," he announced. Everyone gathered around.

"I love Draco Malfoy," Ron told him haughtily. "And I'm proud of it."

Kingsley looked taken aback and glanced at Harry who just shook his head and mouthed 'Long story.'

"Anyway," continued Kingsley. "I am certain that Lord Voldemort has infiltrated the Ministry. Scrimgeour has been shut up in his office all day due to threats, and several of those closest to his office are being detained for questioning as we speak."

"What do you think is going to happen?" Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly.

"We cannot be sure yet, but he's moving fast," explained Kingsley. "I've gathered together all the Aurors and told them if anything happens they need to leave at once and head for safe houses they have set up for themselves, unless they'd rather join forces with Voldemort. That reminds me," he pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to Harry, "Remus and Nymphadora asked me to give this to you."

Harry broke open the seal and read the letter quickly. He stared at it for a moment with disbelieving eyes before reading it once more. "Lupin says he is coming out of living as a Muggle to help us fight," he stopped for a second and read something over again, trying to fully comprehend it before continuing, "And that he and Tonks would like to let us know they got married the day after Dumbledore's funeral, just in case we would care to know."

Harry opened his mouth to speak again before Ron interrupted him. "Why can they get married and I can't?" he asked, aggravated. "Imagine our wedding—"

"Ron, just shut up, please," said Ginny loudly. "Draco Malfoy does not love anyone, even you."

He bunched up his face in a way that told them all he was thoroughly heated with the lot of them for not supporting his new found love.

As night fell, Ron desire to find Draco Malfoy faded, until he was telling all of them loudly how terrible it was that they had let him humiliate himself in such a way, and how much he now had a desire to track Malfoy down and punch him in the gut.

Luna skipped off at dinner time for home, where she assured them her father had her favorite drink waiting, infusion of Gurdyroot. After they each had filled their stomachs, they drifted off to bed, finally leaving Harry and Ron alone at the kitchen table.

"It was terrible Harry," Ron told him quietly. "It really was as if there were memories inside my head of things I know for a fact have never happened. It felt like if I did not find Malfoy, something terrible would happen. I heard this repeating voice in my head that it was all my fault, though I never understood exactly what was my fault. Over and over though, 'it's all you're fault, leave at once, find him.' It reminds me slightly of the dementors, how they made me feel as if I'd never feel happiness again. Unless I found Draco Malfoy."

Harry rested his head upon his hand and pondered this momentarily. "So Hermione didn't leave because she was scared," he said in a hushed voice. "That tree put it into her head that she was making things worse for me, making me risk more. The one thing I had not understood when she left was why she felt as though she were endangering me. It just does not make sense. If anything, being around me was more of a risk. I mean, maybe she's better off where she is. Malfoy would never be able to kill her, even on orders from Voldemort. Perhaps, it would be best if we just left her there, continued the fight here ourselves."

Ron looked outraged. "Are you kidding me, mate?" he asked more loudly than he meant. "She's with the enemy right this very second, and you want to leave her there?"

"I'm just saying," said Harry, sitting up straight. "If Voldemort wanted her to think she needed to marry that git, I think there's more to the plan than just hurting me. If he needs her so bad, he's not going to harm her."

Ron huffed loudly. But before he could speak, a silver light shot into the room in the shape of an otter, landing on the table in front of them. They both jumped to their feet, knowing exactly who conjured that Patronus. As it's mouth opened, the familiar voice both had long to hear poured from it.

"_I am safe. Pay attention to the _Daily Prophet _for further information. Harry, continue the search without me, I will help you where I am. Ron, please do not leave; stay with him. I ask that neither of you come searching for me, even after tomorrow's edition of the _Evening Prophet_. I assure you I am still safe. However, I beg the both of you to do as Dumbledore asked of us. I will join you when the time is right. I love you very much."_

And with those finally words echoing still in Ron's mind, the silver figure disappeared from site, leaving behind an empty table and two confused young man staring at it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I've posted once more. i hope everyone is enjoying the new chapters. I'll post once more when I've finished chapter seven and started eight.

Love you all.  
LeeLee the Lunatic.


	6. Chapter Six

**Short Recap:**

_Harry rested his head upon his hand and pondered this momentarily. "So Hermione didn't leave because she was scared," he said in a hushed voice. "That tree put it into her head that she was making things worse for me, making me risk more. The one thing I had not understood when she left was why she felt as though she were endangering me. It just does not make sense. If anything, being around me was more of a risk. I mean, maybe she's better off where she is. Malfoy would never be able to kill her, even on orders from Voldemort. Perhaps, it would be best if we just left her there, continued the fight here ourselves."_

_Ron looked outraged. "Are you kidding me, mate?" he asked more loudly than he meant. "She's with the enemy right this very second, and you want to leave her there?"_

"_I'm just saying," said Harry, sitting up straight. "If Voldemort wanted her to think she needed to marry that git, I think there's more to the plan than just hurting me. If he needs her so bad, he's not going to harm her."_

_Ron huffed loudly. But before he could speak, a silver light shot into the room in the shape of an otter, landing on the table in front of them. They both jumped to their feet, knowing exactly who conjured that Patronus. As it's mouth opened, the familiar voice both had long to hear poured from it._

"I am safe. Pay attention to the _Daily Prophet_ for further information. Harry, continue the search without me, I will help you where I am. Ron, please do not leave; stay with him. I ask that neither of you come searching for me, even after tomorrow's edition of the _Evening Prophet_. I assure you I am still safe. However, I beg the both of you to do as Dumbledore asked of us. I will join you when the time is right. I love you very much._"_

_And with those finally words echoing still in Ron's mind, the silver figure disappeared from site, leaving behind an empty table and two confused young man staring at it._

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Six**

The air within the Burrow was thick with tension the day following the appearance of Hermione's Patronus. Anyone who walked into the kitchen was greeted with the site of Ron grinning broadly as he stuffed his face. By the end of breakfast, everyone was discussing the past nights' events.

"Have either of you thought this could be a trick?" Ginny asked skeptically. "I mean, what if he made her do that. This could be something like the tree."

"Only Order members know to send messages through a Patronus," Ron answered quickly, having already thought this out. "So she wouldn't be able to conjure one if she were forced, remember you need to be thinking happy. And that means she had to have had Malfoy's wand, because remember she does not have hers."

Ginny nodded, still seeming in disbelief over the situation. In her mind, Hermione would only be truly okay when she had walked through the door of the Burrow.

"Do you think she's remembered the tree at all?" she asked. All Harry and Ron did was shrug, for they were growing more impatient for the arrival of another Patronus.

They all awaited the next Patronus, and occasionally Ron was seem glancing out the window, hoping to see it before it came. As night fell, the only form of contact they received from anyone was an owl delivering the _Evening Prophet_. Ron opened the window which he had been standing at and paid the owl before taking the newspaper. Without sitting down he unfolded it.

"This is what she calls 'further information'?" he shouted loudly after riffling through several pages silently. Both Harry and Ginny jumped from their seats to see what all the fuss was about.

"I do not see how marrying that git makes things better!" he was yelling over an hour later, the newspaper on the floor with several footprints matching Ron's feet all across a half-page article.

"There must be an explanation, Ron," Ginny told him calmly, ushering him to sit down at the kitchen table.

"I don't get it," he said as he rested his head in his hands. "She didn't eat that last fruit, so why did she willingly marry him?"

"The Malfoys must have found a way around it," said Harry. "They might have made some deal or compromise with her. That's the only way I could see Hermione agreeing to that."

Just then the kitchen door flew open and in walked two identical redheads.

"We got the_ Prophet_ a little over and hour ago and boy did we see something interesting," said the first one loudly. "Fred came across the strangest little announcement—"

"What a wedding night that must have been!" the one named Fred said.

"How do you feel now?" George exclaimed as they both pulled up chairs adjacent to Ron at the table. He threw them sullied looks before standing up so quickly his chairs fell backwards with a loud _thud_.

"Don't get started with him right now," Ginny said as he thundered up the stairs and slammed his door.

Fred glanced down at the floor and noticed the littered paper lying there. "I can see he's had a fit about something."

"We heard you received some form of communication from Hermione?" asked George, his face getting serious. "Did she mention anything about marrying the prat?"

"Well," Harry hesitated. "No. She just said to read the _Evening Prophet _for information."

"From the article it says that they eloped in the middle of the night—"

"Right under Lucius' nose, from what we deduced!" added Fred.

Both Ginny and Harry nodded. "We're hoping she's going to contact us again sometime soon and clear all this up," Harry told them.

They all sat in silence for a moment before the twins both stood up. "Well I believe we've let little Ronald have enough time to cool down, right, George?"

"It seems as if we are of the same mind, Fred."

And before Harry and Ginny could stop them, they had gone up the stairs to pursue their younger brother.

Harry looked over at Ginny. It was the first time they had been alone together for several days it seemed, but in fact in had only been two nights ago that they had exchanged words just outside her room. Without really thinking, Ginny had closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Slowly she felt one of his arms go around her as the other gently pushed her head backwards and cupped her chin.

He was about to say something, but before he could she moved her head upwards and locked him in a kiss unlike any they had ever shared. Every need she had ever had for him came back as he ran his fingers through her hair.

Even as they heard the door upstairs slam shut and the twins run down the stairs laughing they did not break apart.

"Oi, Potter, the last thing we need to see right now is you snogging our sister," said one of them.

Harry smiled as they finally broke apart, but did not let her go. The twins knew they were now uninvited and let with quick 'goodbyes' as the kitchen door fell closed behind them.

His smile quickly diminished as he remembered all the reasons he had broken up with Ginny and he released her, taking a few steps backward. "You should not have—we should not have—I love you too much to risk you as well!" he finally exclaimed.

Ginny hung her head slightly, frowning. "You-Know-Who is obviously too busy making wedding arrangements to care about those close to you right now," she replied, putting her hands on her hips in a fashion very much like her mother. "Harry, I love you, too. Can't you see that? I'm willing to risk that for you."

"Look where loving me got everyone else in my life," he retorted. "So unless you have this sudden urge to die, please do not go throwing yourself in my arms in such a seductive way."

"If anything, you should not try to kiss me!"

"That's what happened only after you'd thrown yourself at me!"

Rage flared on Ginny's face. "I did not throw myself at you, Harry James Potter! I merely hugged you and you turned it into something I was not expecting at all!"

Harry let his arms drop to his side, knowing this was a battle he could not win. He told her a quick 'goodnight' and headed for the stairs.

"Wait one second," she called after him. But the door had already been slammed, and he was gone.

--

Whilst moving their things from Malfoy's room to their new, larger one, Hermione realized it was her birthday. She had been married on the eve of her birthday.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "This is not how I wanted to remember my life," she mumbled almost inaudibly as they opened the door to the plain, but large, white room. "This is not where I wanted to be on the morning of my wedding."

"Well aren't you bright and cheery today," remarked Malfoy. He wasn't in the greatest mood either. Narcissa and Lucius had walked into their room the night before just in time to see the ceremony completed. Afterwards they had rushed the Justice of the Peace from the room and interrogated them both. Finally decided it had been a smart decision of theirs, and that they would be moving into the west wing of the house. "You'd think someone would be happier on their birthday." Hermione cocked a questioning eyebrow as he pulled a flat but good-sized package from an inner pocket of his robes and held it out for her to take. "This might make you feel better, not that I really care or anything, but Mother told me it would be the _appropriate_ thing to do."

She reached out and slowly took it. "Thanks, I guess," she said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't say 'thanks' until you open the bloody package, you nitwit."

Hermione sighed and neatly tore off the brown wrapping paper. Inside was a flat brown box.

"Now open the box," he instructed slowly.

This time Hermione rolled her eyes, but she did as he said.

"It's been in the Malfoy library for centuries," said Malfoy as she looked over the gift with wide eyes. "While I was reading the other day I found it and, as I went to go thrown it in the rubbish bin, I realized that you might actually enjoy it."

She looked up at him from the book in her hands. "This is the original?" she asked, astounded.

He nodded. "Can we get on with the unpacking?" he asked in turn as he backed towards the wardrobe. "This actually turning into a civil and touching moment is starting to severely disturb me."

"Malfoy," Hermione called, holding the original copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ to her chest. "Thank you."

She flipped through its pages diligently, Draco glancing over his shoulder in trivial amusement. He had never seen anyone's face light up when given a book. He started to unpack his box and place his possessions where they belonged. Though it felt wrong for him to leave the room he had spent his entire life in.

"My father probably thinks we've either already consummated the marriage, or are _going _to, however disgusted by that thought we both must be," he told her as he placed a few books on the empty bookshelf, "It is a start. That helps us out of the one situation we needed to avoid."

She looked up from the book at him. "How long until they try to find out whether or not I'm pregnant?" she inquired. He had explained to her before the ceremony that they would want to know when she was pregnant as soon as it happened.

He thought on this for a moment. "They might give us about a week, and I think that we should stay put in this room for the most part," he clarified. "If we make them think we want to spend time together, they'll only think of one reason. I'm going to request today that they leave us be for a few days while we have a 'honeymoon'."

Granger visibly cringed at the thought. "As long as we don't actually have to do anything, I'll follow along," she agreed. "But would you mind going to the library to bring me a few books when you go to visit your parents?"

He rolled his eyes, folding his clothes and placing them into a drawer. "Why yes, dear, I would love to do your errands for you," he remarked snidely.

"I need you to get me a book on concealment charms," said Granger, closing the book in her hands. "A couple on confusion charms and a baby name book."

The last book caused him to blink furiously. "What?"

"I figured if we left that sitting around, it would make them think we are planning ahead," she explained.

"Right," was all he could respond with. Draco would not admit that it was actually a clever idea. He shoved aside the clothing Granger had put in the wardrobe. "You only have a small handful of clothing, yet you've decided to take up this entire thing? If you're going to be my wife—"

"Not by complete choice!"

He ignored her. "Then you need to realize this is my house, and keep your knickers out of my way."

"They are not in your bloody way."

"If I say they are, then they are."

Their petty argument was stopped by a knock on the door. Before either could respond the door had swung open and Lucius stepped in.

"This is a much more fitting room for the two of you to live in for now," he said, giving them an all-knowing smirk. "That is until the elves have finished cleaning the house in London."

Draco stopped his trifling task and looked at his father, giving him a look he could not read. "You're going to let us live in the house in London?" he asked inquisitively.

"Of course," he answered. "Did you think we'd make you stay here?"

"The fact that you have forced me to stay in bed the past few weeks just screams yes," he burst.

"We still need to put a few enchantments on it," said Lucius, ignoring Draco's outburst and instead looking at Granger. "However we would rather you stay until she is finally carrying."

"Then throw us out when we have no idea how to handle a pregnant woman?"

"Your mother and I think it would be good experience for the both of you," he answered, his face growing dark due to his repeated flare-ups. "Seeing as you will be raising a child."

"I will laugh in both your faces if I'm not even capable of carrying a child," said Granger suddenly. "My mother only had one child because she wasn't able to bear children. I was the miracle child that she did not miscarry."

Lucius glared at her, but did not speak. He moved back towards the door. "I will leave you both to your business now," he announced, banging the door behind him as he exited.

The next morning dawned, and Hermione turned over, throwing her arm to the side only to find something else already there. She grunted, moving farther to her edge of the bed. Malfoy had suggested it was best if either of his parents walked in for them to both be sleeping in the same bed. Besides the fact the only other place was the floor. After a heated argument, he angrily went into the bathroom to take a shower. Realizing he tricked her into falling asleep while he was away, she rolled onto her back once more and glanced over at him sleeping.

He was facing towards her, his eyes still closed, one arm across his chest lazily, the other hanging off the bedside. Once again she groaned, unable to grasp that she had in fact slept in the same bed as Malfoy. Her _husband_.

She had not planned on being married this young, only a day over eighteen. Always she had dreamt that her parents would be there, as would Harry, Ron and Ginny. Unless they got this annulled soon, those dreams would be shattered.

Malfoy was nothing she wanted in a man, emotionally or sexually. She didn't want him in any way, shape, or form.

She shuddered at the remembrance of the kiss they had to share in order to complete the ceremony. It had been quick kiss, lasting merely a second, but still, it had been with Malfoy.

With a sudden, almost moan, he turned over, falling on top of her, his head lying on the cushion of her chest, his arm pulling her closer.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed sleepily, but to no avail. Malfoy had proven himself to be a very heavy sleeper.

Before she could make any more of an attempt to disentangle herself from his body, there was a loud _crack_ and a tiny house elf appeared at the foot of the bed, holding a large tray full of food.

She glanced downward at the dirt-sodden elf. "How are you doing this morning?" she asked her.

"Me?" she asked incredulously, as if she had never given thought to such a thing. "Why I am doing wonderfully, serving the great Malfoys, and his new bride!"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Oh yes," she deadpanned, "What a wonderful thing."

The elf did not catch the sarcasm and the tray flew into the air, floating in front of Hermione, barely an inch above Malfoy's head.

"Thank you very much," she told the elf. "But you need not stay; I'll bring the tray down to the kitchen when I'm done."

The elf bowed lowly, and with a crack, she was gone.

The second crack seemed to slightly stir the sleeping blonde, who turned over his head, mumbling. "I love you, Pansy."

"I am not Pansy!" she shouted, reaching to grab a muffin from the tray.

He only groaned a response.

Hermione sniffled as she bit into the muffin. Her head was hurting something awful.

Somehow, this sniffle is what startled Malfoy into consciousness, and his head shot up, hitting the tray with a loud _thud_ and sending it upwards into the air, floating close to the ceiling.

"What the-!" he shouted as he glanced at the girl he had been clutching. He threw himself off with disgust. "Must you sniffle so loudly?" He groaned as he rolled back onto his side, turning his back to her.

"I think I'm coming down with a cold," she responded nonchalantly, trying to retrieve the tray from above her head.

"I was sleeping!"

She rolled her eyes, pulling the tray downward. "Do I look like I care?"

Malfoy turned and glared angrily at her, but did not speak.

While she was still downing the breakfast the house-elf had brought her, Malfoy stood from the bed and opened the bedroom door slightly, after closing it he turned back to Hermione, glared at her fleetingly, then turned into the bathroom, where he remained for a good twenty minutes.

Hermione only munched happily now that he had left the room. It gave her time to think without a glare being directed at her.

Alas, it was a very quick passing twenty minutes, and he returned to the room freshly showered but not changed, he was still wearing the pajamas he had gone to bed in.

Before she could question this, he spoke. "I suggest you do the same in case my parents do decide to not follow my request and visit," Malfoy told her. "If we are wearing normal day clothing, they might get suspicious that we aren't— well you get the idea."

She nodded, pushing the tray to the side, where it floated next to the wall. "I left you some food," she said.

He threw her a look of revulsion. "Are you suggesting I eat from the same plate as you?"

"Well, I am your wife, what's mine is yours, what's yours is mine," she replied, heading towards the bathroom for a shower of her own.

--

Having been three days since the reported nuptials of Hermione and Draco Malfoy, Ron was attempting to keep the house in a constant uproar.

"We should be out there finding them," he argued at dinner. "Force them out of hiding or something."

Mr. Weasley only shook his head and looked down at his plate of food. "If it were that easy, Ronald, we would have done it already."

"Dear, you need to remember Hermione is a very capable witch," Mrs. Weasley reminded him. "She can take care of herself."

"I agree with Molly," said Harry. "If she were in danger she would have sent immediate word and tried to escape."

"But they got her out by force, they got her from here, a place we considered almost as safe as Hogwarts," continued Ron, "They made her believe a false reality. If they could do that, I'm sure they could make her feel as if she were perfectly safe while torturing information out of her at the same time. Not to mention they forced her to marry Malfoy."

"We realize that, Ron," Harry interrupted. He was growing weary of Ron's constant state of rage. "But she obviously was allowed to contact us once, with Malfoy's own wand. Somehow, she and Malfoy seemed to have come to an agreement. I'm as worried as you, but we need to _trust what she said_. She said she would contact us and find us when the time came."

Ron stood up, throwing his fork down. "Am I the only one that cares?" he said angrily before once again storming upstairs.

Harry looked at Arthur and Molly apologetically before putting his own fork down and following Ron's path upstairs. Harry realized Hermione was in danger, but what was he supposed to do? The house the Malfoy's lived in was protected by a Fidelius Charm and no one they had on their side could enter. Only if Hermione could find a way out on her own could they help her.

After voicing this to Ron, who was sulking in his bed once more, he sat down next to him.

"I want Hermione back with us as much as you do—"

"No you don't, Harry," said Ron. "You just don't understand. I _love _her, Harry."

Harry sighed. "So you finally came to your senses about that, did you?"

Ron nodded. "I've never felt such a huge need for a person. Since she left, I haven't stopped thinking about her. Where she is, who she's with, why she left. Why she couldn't just stay here with me," said Ron. He shook his head and laughed sadly. "And now she's married to Draco sodding Malfoy."

Once again, Harry sighed. "Remember when you ate that fruit?" he asked. Ron nodded, recalling the terrible hours he spent desired Draco Malfoy. "The last fruit was obviously to get her to willfully marry him. They just found away around it. This obviously means that there's something going on."

Ron cringed and opened his mouth to speak before Harry cut him off. "Not in _that_ way, Ron," he interjected. "I'm saying they must have a plan."

"Or they tricked her in another way."

"She would not have been able to send us a Patronus if under the Imperius Curse," reminded Harry. "She may been in danger, Ron, but I'm pretty sure we don't understand what kind of danger. We won't until she contacts us."

"I just always thought us three would be together until the end," said Ron truthfully. "I never imagined something like this tearing her away from us. From me. I realize she probably won't ever want me, Harry. But I just want her back to know she's safe."

"We'll get her back, Ron," Harry assured him. "We'll find a way to get her back."

--

It was several days later and not much had changed within the Malfoy household. The full, brown moving boxes placed in Draco and Granger's room were the only big difference.

They had been informed the day before by Narcissa that the house in London would be ready in only a few days, so they started packing. Narcissa also happened to slip Granger a catalog and gave her permission to order what ever she felt was necessary for the house and her.

"No need for furniture because I've taken care of that, but if you'd like some Muggle appliances, though I'd rather not have my son around that, feel free to buy some," she told Granger as she handed her the large glossy print book. "Be sure to get yourself some respectful clothing," she added as she noticed the clothes Granger was wearing were still not her own. "Don't spare expenses either, it's all on Lucius."

Draco had noticed his mother's generosity towards Granger and did not understand it. He felt there was an underlying cause he was not seeing.

As they were packing away the things they had (many things _he _had, rather), he decided to ask Granger if she knew why.

"I figured that you had a better idea of what your mother was up to," she told him as she closed a full box. "I honestly have no clue."

"Are you two plotting against me and my father?" he said, accusing them both of treason in his mind. His back got straight and his face got more serious. "If you are, let me tell you, Granger, we'll find out. If you are conspiring against the Dark Lord, it will not work out."

Granger turned to look at him. "You think that I'd conspire with your mother to ruin the plans we have already discussed?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "If I had decided to do that, it would have happened long before we went and got _married_."

He rolled his eyes. "There are many things my mother could convince you to do, even after our agreement," he responded. "I don't understand why she is being ever so nice to you."

"Neither do it."

"Well there we go, problem solved," he said, going back to his closet and pulling out an already full box. He knew the things inside it were things he would never need again and didn't bother trying to open it. He pushed aside and went further into the closet to retrieve another box.

Before he could act, however, Granger had walked over to the box and opened it. "What do you want me to..." her voice trailed off as she pulled out a photo album engraved with "Draco and Pansy."

"Get out of there!" he shouted, closing the space between them and ripping the book out of her hand. "That box contains personal things to me; don't put your Mudblood hands all over it."

She glared at him. "I'm sick of you treating me like complete dog shit," she shouted. "I'm following along with this brilliant plan of yours and you can't even give me a little bit of respect."

"The things in this box have nothing to do with you."

"The shit in that box has everything to do with the past," she said. "If your parents see that you are holding onto a box containing everything you did with Pansy, they'll figure us out."

"Everything in this box means more to me than you'll ever understand," he said. "I'm not going to let go of it because it's the only thing left of her."

Granger shook her head and sighed as Draco placed the photo album on top gently, tracing the engraving with his fingers.

"We'll everything we've got is already in boxes so I say we just call up the elves and have them deliver it for us," he told her after he had gotten the rest of the boxes out of his closet. He snapped his fingers after placing the last one near the door. With several cracks, about a dozen house-elves appeared and stood, waiting for their orders. "I want you to bring all these boxes, minus this one," he added, pointed to the box Granger could not touch, "to the house in London as my mother has already instructed you to. Unpack them and come back when you are finished."

They all nodded and bowed before snapping their own fingers and disappearing with all the boxes. Except for one.

--

Hermione looked at Malfoy as he ruffled through the box she wasn't allowed to touch. He picked up the photo album again and flipped through the pages, his face growing angrier as he did so.

She sat down on the newly made bed, her head on her hands. The past few days had been the most troubling of all for her mentally. She couldn't stop thinking about Harry and Ron, how they must be thinking since she first notified them she was safe. It took much convincing, but she finally had been able to persuade Malfoy into letting her send them a message.

It was after they had a plan made. Right before they called a Justice of the Peace to the house.

Everyone else had been sleeping, and thank god for that. If Lucius had found out what they were doing, he would have prevented it in any way.

The wedding he had planned with Narcissa was to be perfect. All the right people were to attend.

But not to Hermione. She had finally agreed with Malfoy that they would get married with no one there. Neither of them wanted to get married, let alone with a myriad of people they didn't know or remember.

The announcement in the _Daily Prophet_ of course had not been the one Hermione and Malfoy had written, but rather the one Narcissa and Lucius had. Something had woken them up, or someone, rather. One of the guards must have seen the Justice of the Peace being led in by Malfoy.

Hermione couldn't imagine Ron and Harry's reaction as they flipped through the pages of the _Evening Prophet_, only to find out that she had wed one of their worst enemies. One of her worst enemies.

They had, of course, been caught by Narcissa and Lucius, as they had originally planned. Lucius had walked in just as their fates were sealed. Against expectations, however, he did not get mad, or angry. The elder Malfoy actually seemed to be content with their decision to marry secretly.

And so it was, they moved into a wing of their own until the house in London was finished. Now, all Hermione and Malfoy had to do was move there.

There was, however, the issue of having a child.

"They won't possibly let us move once they find I'm not pregnant," she said aloud to Malfoy, interrupting his exploration of the box.

He didn't bother to look up at her. "I'm sure they've decided we've given up," he said. "I've convinced my father very well that I force you to bed with me every night."

She grimaced at the thought. "Your mother told me they would check before we departed for London, though," she said, still considering what would happen if Lucius found out the only thing they had done was kiss when forced to do so.

Malfoy shrugged but did not respond, angering Hermione greatly. It all came down to this, if she wasn't with child, what would happen? Would their plan go down the drain? What would happen if they somehow knew? Would she be stuck in Malfoy Manor?

"You don't get it do you?" she shouted, infuriated at this point, tearing yet another photo album out of his hands and throwing it against the wall. "If they find out, Malfoy, we'll be stuck here. Our plan will go to the shitter, and we won't be able to do a bloody thing about it."

He stood up and before she could act, his hand came down hard across her face. The impact made her head turn and her hands went up to clutch her cheek.

They stood there for a moment, both unable to say anything. She looked at him with the deepest glare of disgust, but barely felt like she could breathe.

--

His breathing became heavy. What had he just done? He felt like putting his hands around her neck until she was blue.

"Don't ever do that again," he snapped.

"You hit me," was all she could say back, still holding her check with one hand.

"Now we're even, I guess," he shrugged, trying to forget what had just happened.

"I punched you in our third year, you git," she retorted. "And never did it hold as much malice as did _you_ hitting me just now."

He took a step towards her that he didn't notice she had taken backwards. "I could kill you right now," he said through clenched teeth, pulling his wand from inside his robes and holding it to her chest.

"Go right ahead! Kill me if you want, put me out of my misery; you'll just be as bad as your father."

"What exactly is wrong with being my father?"

"_Everything_."

Without being able to control himself, purple fire flew from his wand and Granger was suddenly against the wall, grasping at her neck as if someone was strangling her. Her feet were dangling several feet above the ground as she was gasped for air.

"Take it back," he said forcefully. "Or so help me I will kill you."

She glared at him, still flailing her legs and trying to breath. He walked towards her once more, his wand still holding her up, until he was barely inches away. He lowered her to his eye level.

"You don't know what I've done, Granger," he said. "And you never, ever will. So forget everything you thought you knew about me. Because one of these days, you'll do something, and I won't stop myself. I won't be _able_ to."

With that, she fell to the ground, taking deep, panting breaths for air. She lay there for several moments, unable to do much else. Draco looked down on her, aiming his wand once more before kicking her in the stomach and leaving her in the room alone.

He rushed down the hallway, feeling warm tears falling down his face. What had he just done? His anger took hold of him, and before he realized it she had been on the floor.

Slowly, he was becoming what his father was. And Draco would be damned if he'd let that happen.

Pansy would never have wanted that for him. And neither did he now.

--

Harry woke up early in the morning, but not by choice. Ron and he had stayed up late, discussing Hermione, the Horcruxes, the Final Battle. Everything. There was not a relevant topic they did not discuss. Ron told Harry he could not handle the thought of losing Hermione to someone he hated. Even if it was only a deal Hermione had made with the younger Malfoy. Harry could only tell him that things would work out eventually, and all Ron could do was wait. They had only an hour earlier decided it was time to save the conversation for the morning, and just as Harry was slipping into a dreamless sleep, came a knock on the window.

Harry heard it but rolled over, deciding it had to be a branch hitting the window due to wind. He started drifting off to sleep once more.

There was a tapping at the window once more. Stumbling to the window after giving up his rest, he could make out the figure of a large owl. Opening the window, it flew to the floor, dropping a parcel before swooping back to the windowsill. After giving Harry a knowing backward glance, the owl took off and flew into the night sky.

Harry took out his wand and poked the parcel a couple times, mumbling several things to make sure the package did not contain any Dark items that would kill him. The owl, he did not recognize. It's wings had been large and white, while it's chest was black.

Ron stirred. "What are you doing Harry?" he said, half-sleeping.

"You should wake up," Harry said, picking up the package. "I think this is going to be important."

Ron opened an eye to look at the parcel, then jumped up and went to Harry's side. "Be careful," he told Harry. "It could be anything."

"I have a feeling it's something good."

He tore open the brown paper and gave Ron one last glance before opening the box.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Short Recap:**

"_You don't know what I've done, Granger," he said. "And you never, ever will. So forget everything you thought you knew about me. Because one of these days, you'll do something, and I won't stop myself. I won't be able to."_

_With that, she fell to the ground, taking deep, panting breaths for air. She lay for a moment, unable to do much else. Draco looked down on her, aiming his wand once more before kicking her in the stomach and leaving her in the room alone._

_He ran down the hallway, feeling warm tears falling down his face. What had he just done? His anger took hold of him, and before he realized it she had been on the floor._

_Slowly, he was becoming what his father was. And Draco would be damned if he'd let that happen._

_Pansy would never have wanted that for him. And neither did he now._

_---_

_Harry woke up early in the morning, but not by choice. There was a tapping at the window. Stumbling to the window, he could make out the figure of a large owl. Opening the window, it flew to the floor, dropping a parcel before swooping back to the windowsill. After giving Harry a knowing backward glance, the owl took off and flew into the night sky._

_Harry took out his wand and poked the parcel a couple times, mumbling several things to make sure the package did not contain any Dark items that would kill him._

_Ron stirred. "What are you doing Harry?" he said, half-sleeping. _

"_You should wake up," Harry said, picking up the package. "I think this is going to be important."_

_Ron opened an eye to look at the parcel, then jumped up and went to Harry's side. "Be careful," he told Harry. "It could be anything."_

"_I have a feeling it's something good."_

_He tore open the brown paper and gave Ron one glance before opening the box._

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Seven**

The teacup sat in the middle of the long kitchen table. The room was silent. Only Ron and Harry were present. It was still dark out, but they were thinking. About what, they weren't completely sure.

Harry stared at it. There was nothing that seemed very special about it, but he knew what it was. The white, gold-rimmed teacup was engraved with the emblem of Helga Hufflepuff. Who sent it, Harry did not know, could not even fathom. He picked it up and looked at it more closely.

"Where did this come from?" he asked himself quietly.

"What if it's a fake, Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head, still looking closely at the cup. "It can't be," he said. "I know it in my guts, Ron. This is it. I can feel it."

"Does it feel... evil?"

"Here, hold it," Harry suggested, moving it so he could hand it to him. Ron backed up.

"I don't want to touch it," he said quickly, shaking his head fervently as his eyes widened. "What if it possesses me like the diary?"

Harry bit his bottom lip. "I don't think it can," he added swiftly. "The fragment in this is more contained. The diary was hastily made, so it wasn't restrained as well."

"It's only a teacup. I'm pretty sure it could fall and break."

Harry proved this was not true when he pitched it against the wall adjacent to them. It clattered to the floor unmarked. Neither went to retrieve it.

"How do you suppose we destroy it?" asked Ron, looking at the cup warily.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Dumbledore never told me," he replied. "We never got to that."

"This mission he put you on," said Ron, "Do you have anyway of doing it?"

Shrugging once more, Harry stood and picked the cup up.

The last thing he remembered was falling to the floor and a sharp pain just where a certain lightening-shaped scar was.

---

"Did you miss me, _dear_?" asked Malfoy mordantly as he reentered the room several hours later. It was well past midnight. To Hermione, it seemed ages ago that the elves had returned to inform her that the house in London was prepared for them, when it had only been an hour before.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, unable to comprehend the cruelty she had just received. However much it made sense to her, for Draco Malfoy was most definitely his father's son, she still could not believe he would ever do that to her. Nonetheless, he did show his dislike of her often, but never in that way. Never had he resorted to physical violence.

In the back of her mind she wanted to do the same right back, but for once she was truly terrified of acting. If she had been at Hogwarts it would have been different. If only Harry and Ron where there, she would have protection; she would be safe.

But Malfoy Manor was far from being Hogwarts. Nowhere in the house was she safe. She couldn't run nor hide from anyone or anything.

Her head hurt and she cradled it in her arms. Before she knew what was happening, the sobs were coming out. The tears falling down her face.

All the feelings she had felt since the moment this ordeal had started came out. Every terrifying and angering moment was pouring through her mind, one after another, as if on repeat.

How she had let this happen, she didn't remember. She could barely remember the last days she had spent at the Burrow. All she had been trying to do was clear her mind every morning, then something came over her. She wanted out, and she wanted it as fast as she could make it come. A voice in the back of her head did not tell her where to go, but just to leave. Her life had seemed so much more important than it truly was. Her selfishness had taken over her, and she just _didn't know why_.

White.

That's all she could recall. Glowing white. It haunted her dreams most nights, but she never could truly remember why.

Had it been a vision? A dream? A person? Had someone altered her mind?

She couldn't remember, and as the sobs continued they grew more powerful, more painful. They wracked her body like she had never cried before. Her hands were trembling and her head was pounding. If only she had thought of everyone she cared about at the time, everyone that she meant something to.

There was Harry, the person she had ran out on. Hermione had promised him she would fight until the end. He didn't even try to stop her as she walked out the door. _Why couldn't he have stopped me?_ She thought. _This never would have happened if he had forced me to stay._

Although, she admitted to herself, it showed how true his friendship was to let her leave like she had. He realized her fears that had grown over the months, and her worries, and he had forgiven her. Harry told her he wished he could do the same.

Then there was Ron. She missed him so much. His red hair, freckles and silly grin. If only he knew how much he meant to her. She wished she had told him goodbye.

Thoughts of never seeing either again penetrated her head, only making her weep worse. They were the closest friends she had ever had, and she turned her back on them. How could she expect them to ever let her back into their lives once more?

She couldn't expect anything from them. Hermione didn't deserve that. Harry and Ron owed her nothing.

She continued to sob even though the bedroom door opened. Hearing someone speak didn't stop her tears, neither did sudden footsteps. The tears had been falling so long, she was sure nothing could make them stop.

Then there was an arm around her, a surprisingly comforting voice followed, telling her sorry, over and over again. The arms enveloped her for what seemed like hours, until, gradually her sobs slowed. Her breathing started flowing easier. The pain she felt of her heart tearing apart felt like it was melting away. Things were far from perfect, but, finally, everything floating through her subconscious had surfaced. Her thoughts became more clear.

As she came out of her mind, back to reality, she found herself in the arms of her husband; the man who had held her against the wall, strangling her.

She jumped back, out of what Malfoy must have thought was a comforting embrace and stood. Wiping her eyes and trying to breathe normal once again she continued to back away.

"Please, forgive me," he begged. His voice was unlike anytime he had ever talked to her. It was apologetic. Sad. Remorseful. Malfoy, it seemed, had been hiding away human emotions. He stood up slowly. "I never meant to do anything like that. Something just— it just overtook me. Like I couldn't—"

"Don't speak to me," she interrupted hastily, stopping as her back finally reached the wall. "Don't ever talk to me again you bastard. Never has anyone treated me in such a vile way. I knew there was something wrong with you, Malfoy, but I never once thought you were truly evil like that."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Malfoy, but he did not dare speak. His eyes flared as she thought they would, but she would not stop.

"Since I met you, I never once enjoyed having you around me," she continued. "You were always arrogant and self-righteous. In no way did you give Harry, Ron or I any chance to get to know us. You based your opinion of us on who we chose to associate with. You made it a point to attempt intimidating all three of us, since the first day which we met you. I cannot trust you like I have been. I'm done with this, even if I die trying to get out."

Then something happened. A bright, white light filled the room, shook the foundation of the house. Before she knew what was happening, the earth rumbled, pieces of ceiling plaster were falling around her.

Malfoy covered his head. "What are you doing?" he screamed, jumping off the bed.

Hermione panicked, looking around wildly. But her rage still filled her, she couldn't stop it. The lights started flickering. Suddenly, the door opened and in ran Lucius and Narcissa.

"What's going on?" the blonde man asked them, the two were also covering their heads with there hands. They looked at Hermione, whose eyes were glowing fiercely. They then looked at Malfoy. Back and forth they looked, but the shaking didn't stop, the ceiling continued to fall.

"Let me go, or so help me I will find a way to kill every one of you," said Hermione. It didn't seem like her own words, something had come over her.

Narcissa and Lucius looked at each other. "Stop what ever you are doing," said Lucius hatefully. "If you so much as touch—"

Another blinding white light filled the room, and before Hermione knew what happened, Lucius and Narcissa were on the floor unconscious. She had not even moved from where she had been standing, but there they lay on the floor. The door behind them stayed open. Hermione knew what to do.

"I'm leaving and I suggest you do the same for yourself," she said to Malfoy before turning to the fallen bodies. After quickly collecting their wands, she was out the door. Hermione heard Malfoy scrambling behind her, but didn't stop. She wanted her way out, and somehow she had it.

---

Draco was trying to comprehend the perplexity situation, but everything happened too quickly. His parent were on the ground and Granger was rushing out the door, suggesting he should follow. He flew out the door behind her without thinking. Down the hallway to the entrance hall stairs. She kept going without a glance back. This was it, their way out. Something had saved them.

He finally caught up with her and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Where are we supposed to go?" he asked as she tried to get out of his grip. She stopped, panting and shook her head.

"I don't know," she answered. "All I know right now, Malfoy, is that we have a way out, and you can stay if you want. But I'm leaving. Try and stop me, you'll just end up the same place your parents are. On the floor."

He tried breathing slowly, but it wouldn't happen. His heart was racing, as was his mind. He could leave, never look back. Draco could escape becoming what he didn't want to be anymore.

"I don't want to be my father, Granger," he said before thinking of his words. "I don't want to become a monster like him."

Her eyes questioned him before she nodded. "Let's leave before they wake," she suggested.

Draco went and opened the front door, glancing out in a spy-like way. "There shouldn't be any guards here anymore," he told her quietly as they went out the door.

She held up his mother's wand. "Doesn't matter to me," she said. "Let's see them try to stop me."

In his mind, Draco actually felt good about this. He couldn't help but think Granger was actually doing something he envied. She was not taking this lying down anymore, she found a way to change the situation around her, even if it had only been her emotions.

They crept down the path silently, both with wands out. When they reached the gate, it opened for them both, as if telling them to leave. So leave is what they did.

---

Ron woke up suddenly. They had spent the entire day before trying to unlock where the cup had came from, to no avail. What happened to Harry when he touched the cup they hadn't been able to place. Harry wouldn't speak of what he saw or heard. Whether he saw or heard anything, Ron wasn't even sure. All he remembered was Harry on the ground, unconscious, then he was awake. Almost startled by something. But even insistently questioning the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't make him speak of what had occurred. He had awoke and only wanted to discuss where it came from and how to destroy it. Ron had given up eventually, but couldn't shake the thought that Harry knew something he didn't.

But he hadn't been woken from a bad dream, or the inability to sleep. This was something else, a feeling inside him. He turned to look at Harry, who was having another fitful dream. Tossing, turning, saying regretful words over and over again.

Then the window opened with a clatter and in rushed a slivery otter once more. This woke Harry who jumped from the bed suddenly and looked at Ron, then back at the Patronus.

"_I have been released from my prison, but I cannot see you yet," _it spoke in Hermione's voice, sounding rushed and tired. "_I'm finally free. I'll contact you as soon as I get the chance once more. I love you both._"

As quick as it had come, it disappeared, leaving both Harry and Ron to ponder. They glanced at each other and sat on their separate beds, exasperated, both unable to grasp the situation at hand.

"So she's out?" asked Ron excitedly. "Why won't she come here?"

Harry shook his head. "Hermione knows better," he said. "The Burrow is gonna be a target."

Ron's face went from happy to curious in a matter of milliseconds. "How do you suppose she got out?"

Shrugging, Harry pondered this for a few moments before responding. "We just need to trust her on this one, Ron. That's all we really can do at this point."

---

There was something about Granger that Draco just couldn't figure out. What had happened back in their room had been powerful magic. Somehow, it had actually made him intimidated.

They had Apparated to woods he remembered but could not place. After conjuring a makeshift shelter and placing several concealment and protection charms she had gone into the tent to sleep, leaving Draco outside to watch the area until she woke.

He waited outside, watching for Death Eaters or any sign of life surrounding them. He was sure, however, that they were far enough in the woods to be safe. He conjured himself a comfortable armchair and sat in it, pondering once more the enigma that was Hermione Granger.

She had saved him. Even if it was only temporary, he was grateful. Still, there was the high chance of being found once more. He was positive he was no longer on good graces with the Dark Lord, or his parents for that matter, anymore. If they were found, he knew they would be killed.

Just another reason they needed to remain running. Until things had simmered down a bit at least. The past few months with Granger had been terrible, yes, but something had pulled him to leave with her. He couldn't stay there anymore. There was too much going on in his head about his own actions and choices. Hoping he could sort things out in his mind was all he could do.

So Draco sat in the silence, watching the trees and the stars. It wasn't until the sun had come up that Granger woke. She was startled to see that she had slept so long and told Draco to go sleep while she watched.

"If you want to sleep more, go right ahead," he told her, sighing. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. "It's hard enough to sleep by myself, let alone in some place I'm not used to."

She looked at him briefly, sadly, and then she shrugged. "Well if you don't want to rest there's no point in staying in this spot," she explained. "If you don't mind, I would like to try and find a safer place to stay."

He stood from his armchair and made it disappear with a flick of his wand. "Let's get going then," he said, his voice missing any form of emotion.

Granger packed away the tent, planning on using it once more, and removed the charms and spells she had set up. After removing any proof that they had been there, they linked arms and spun on the spot together.

---

Hermione chose the destination once more, for Malfoy didn't seem like he really cared where they went. While thinking of safe places to hide, she had thought of more than just the woods.

She decided she would send another message to Harry, as her and Draco walked together down a high traffic road somewhere outside London. Both her and Malfoy were wearing Muggle-like clothes. They had been since they arrived at the woods. Remotely, they fit in. Hermione knew enough to keep Malfoy and herself out of trouble and confrontation on the street as they headed somewhere she knew well.

"We just need to make one stop before we continue," she explained as she turned down a smaller side street. It was a residential area. The very same one she had grown up in. As they neared their goal, she started telling Malfoy where exactly they were going.

"We're going to see my parents," she told him. "Don't give me that look. I had to spend over two months with your parents, you can handle meeting them."

She turned down another street and waited for him to follow, but he wouldn't move. "Why do I have to come in?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "My parents will have heard we were married," she said. "I would like them to meet you."

He glared at her. "I am not pretending I'm... in _love _with you," he said. "I will not do that."

Once again she had to roll her eyes. Malfoy just didn't seem to understand what she was trying to accomplish. "I want them to know I'm okay," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "They'll have heard I was married, I'm sure Ron and Harry have informed them I've been missing. They'll also have told them the message I sent them and about the announcement in the paper."

"So why do I need to be present?" he asked again.

"Where else are you supposed to go? I thought we were in this together?"

---

Draco sighed. He had agreed to stick with her until it was absolutely necessary to separate. "Fine," he said, giving in. Something was keeping him from truly acting the way he normally did. He was spent. His mind was running too much too often for him to actually think about reality. Given up or given in, whatever you want to call it, it was what he was doing. He couldn't believe he had tried to kill her, he couldn't believe they had escaped; he couldn't believe she was actually saving him from being his father.

He was grateful for it, but did not want to be with her, or around her. For some reason, he wanted to make sure she got out safe, was able to get away from him. He did not want Granger to be like his mother. She was too good for that.

Her intentions were pure, while his had never been. Draco didn't know what it meant to be sincere, he only knew deceit. Get through life however you can, don't be afraid to get where you need to, no matter who you hurt in the way.

Draco had hurt Pansy, he had abandoned her. Honestly, he felt he couldn't abandon Granger like he had Pansy. Married by choice or not, she was still his wife and the bond between them since the ceremony had been different. The magic that pulled them together would not let them separate, no matter how much they couldn't stand each other.

It was as if a rope tied them together. They had learned to understand each other better, something they never thought would happen when they made their original agreement.

They walked only a little bit further before Granger opened a gate and they were walking up the front walk to ring the bell. Before Draco could realize it, he was meeting her parents. They hugged their daughter first, saying they were grateful she was alive. Before they could ask what had happened to her, she was introducing Draco.

"This is Draco Malfoy," she told them. He had never seen her nervous like she was. Quiet and unsure. "This is my husband."

But her parents did not give him a look of disgust or throw him out of the house. Her father stuck his hand out in front of Draco. "It's nice to meet you once more," he said. "The name is Richard."

Draco grabbed his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you as well," he heard himself saying. "On better terms this time, I hope."

Granger's mother, after hugging her daughter, gave Draco a hug as well. "My name is Jane," she told Draco. "But you can feel free to call me 'Mum'."

Draco smiled. "Good to finally meet you, Mum," he responded, stressing the last word. The four of them briefly shared a laugh while only Granger and Draco exchanged looks with each other.

---

Hermione sighed. She never thought she'd have to chance to introduce herself as married to her parents. "We need to talk to you about something," she finally explained as they were rushed into the living room to sit.

"Let me make some tea, dear," her mother said first. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't offer tea?"

Malfoy spoke up. "I would love some tea," he said to Hermione's mother.

She looked at him and quickly furrowed her brow. He was being most charming, and she didn't understand it.

As her mother and father rushed to the kitchen she looked at him. "Where you hit by a Confundus Charm?" she asked quietly. "You are acting so strange right now."

He shrugged. "I just thought I should make a good impression," he told her, smirking. "I am your dear sweet husband after all."

"Well I am about to tell them what your father has done," she snapped. "So I'd suggest getting off that high horse of yours right now and getting serious."

Just then her parents came back in with a tray, placing it in front of them. As her mother poured them tea, her father looked at them expectantly.

"You aren't very affectionate, are you?" he asked Malfoy, making Hermione laugh.

Malfoy pale face was suddenly red and Hermione spoke up. "Let me explain something and you'll understand," she said, becoming stern. The time rushed by as they both recounted to her parents the passed two months of their lives. Granger started with how she had left, something Draco had never heard her mention. They never really talked like that. A part of him regretted that. Only slightly though.

"What made you leave?" asked Jane. They both waited eagerly for Granger to respond.

She only shrugged. "I really don't know," she answered.

She continued to when Draco had found her and taken her in, leaving nothing out.

"Then my father decided to tell us we were getting married," he interjected. "He told us that we were to get married and have a child so we could help them win the war."

Richard and Jane both traded looks. "I'm sure that even Witch pregnancies last nine months," said Jane. "The war will be over before that. Hermione has already talked to us about this."

"Which is why we are here," said Granger. She continued the story, with Draco throwing in the odd comment every now and again. She finally got to the end, only leaving out the one part Draco had been scared of her revealing. "That's how we got out and came here."

"I always knew you were powerful," her father said proudly. "All that studying got you far."

Draco couldn't stop himself. "For your information, the studying did not cause anything," he remarked. "Only someone born that powerful could have done that. I honestly never expected it from your daughter."

Hermione did not know whether or not Malfoy was truly complimenting her. She waited for something negative, anything negative. But nothing further came from his mouth.

"Still makes me proud," said Mr. Granger. "I could only ever dream of being able to do magic."

"Same here," said Jane, directing her words to Malfoy. "It was so unreal, you know, to learn that our daughter was able to do things like that with her mind. Since she was born she would do strange things. I'm very clumsy and when she was still a baby she would prevent things from breaking as they hit the floor. Only when she was with me though. I must have dropped the same cups over and over, thinking they were unbreakable. Until one day, Hermione was sleeping in her crib and I shattered a good half of them all."

"Most common Witches and Wizards wouldn't really even show any signs until a later age," said Malfoy conversationally. Of course, his tone then turned pompous . "I was the same though, while I was a baby I somehow was protecting myself and my mother."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "We didn't come here so you could crow about your marvelous powers," she said sarcastically, then looked at her parents. "I had to come here to tell you that this may be the last time you see me for a very long time."

"But why?" her mother asked sadly.

"Mum, there is more to this than I could ever explain," explained Hermione. "I know there is more to what has happened, more than we know yet. We need to find away to annul this, quietly. We also need to find a way to protect ourselves, and the two of you." She looked at Malfoy. "Before we leave, I think we should set up some protective charms."

He nodded. "I think I could be very helpful with that, I could set up the same kind we have at the Manor."

Hermione's father shook his head fervently. "I don't want to have to change our lives," he said. "I doubt any one will be coming after us."

"Dad, you have to understand," replied Hermione. "Lord Voldemort is an evil man, he will attack everything I love to try and get me to play along in his scheme."

"The Dark Lord is trying to punish my father by ruining all my family has ever preached," interrupted Malfoy. "We never would taint our blood, it was the one thing that kept us so powerful in the Wizarding world. He will try to hurt you, and that needs to be prevented. There are more important things that your daughter and I need to do, we cannot risk having to save you, it would endanger our own lives."

"Taint your blood?" her mother asked angrily. "If anything, I think having a child with our daughter would do exactly what that Lord Voldemort wants, you would have a powerful child. It would be a gift to your inbred family."

"Do you know why the British royal family had to stop marrying cousins?" Richard asked, seemingly just as offended as his wife. "It was because the thinning of the blood made most of the women unable to bear children. When they actually could conceive they only had deformed or mentally ill children. If your family continues to mix with only Purebloods that is what is going to happen. You're family line will die out."

Malfoy was breathing heavier now, noticed Hermione. "I think we got off topic here—"

"No, they're right, Granger," he said furiously, his tone dripping with the sarcasm that she hoped he might have left at Malfoy Manor. "The fact that my family had one code to live by, keeping our blood clean of anything that could harm, is merely foolish. Our traditions are bull shit."

"You're getting carried away," Hermione said quickly. "My parents meant no offense by—"

"Oh yes we did," disrupted her father. "Don't try and cover up what we have said. If he has such a problem with being married to you, because of your 'tainted' blood, then he can leave this house and try and take care of himself." He then stood up and held his arm out towards the door.

Hermione stood as well. "I cannot do this alone," she shouted, her face livid. "If you cannot respect the choices I have made, including marrying him, then maybe we should leave. I thought you would understand, I could be killed because of this. The only reason I came was so that you, my parents, my only blood, would know that I was still alive. It has become obvious to me, however, that you don't respect the person that I have chosen to help me through this. He may be a pretentious, arrogant, arsehole who still does follow the old tradition of the Wizarding world but he is the only person that can help me. Not Harry, not Ron, and not you. Only Draco Malfoy can help get me out of this mess because it is the same mess that he has gotten into." And with that she left the room, leaving Malfoy with her parents, who appeared to have lost the ability to speak.

---

Richard sat down and looked down at his lap like a child.

"I'm sorry," said Draco. Yes, the pretentious, arrogant arsehole was apologizing to _Muggles_. There was nothing more disrespectful to his inner self than to do such a thing, but he was doing it. For some odd reason, Granger had stuck up for him. In her own way. "I didn't mean to offend you, I was really just trying to explain why the Dark Lord decided to do this to us. He is trying to kill two birds with one stone you could say. He took Gra— I mean, Hermione, from Harry Potter, and he took me, the only heir to my family, away from being able to carry on our legacy. The one thing that is truly important to my father. The Dark Lord is truly the epitome of evil, and he will stop at nothing to get the sick joy out of our suffering, even if it means hurting you."

Jane still looked at him scornfully. "But aren't you one of his, you know, Death Eaters?" she asked. "Harry and Ron told us all about you."

Draco rolled up the sleeve covering his left arm. "I joined to save my mother from receiving punishment for my father being incarcerated," he explained. "If I had it my way, things would never have happened this way. I thought I would make my father proud by taking your daughter. If I had known what he truly had in mind the day he asked me to take her, I would have walked away from all of this."

---

"That is probably the most sincere thing I have ever heard from your inconsiderate mouth, Malfoy," Hermione said, having just re-entered the room. She was leaning against the door frame. For some odd reason, Draco couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed she had heard him say those things. He was just trying to calm the situation. Though it was truly the thoughts he had been thinking the passed few days, he would never have admitted them to her.

"I would watch yourself when you say only my surname," he replied. "Remember, it is yours now as well."

Her parents still did not know what to say and merely sat and watched the two of them as Hermione took her seat once again ignoring the comment her pseudo-husband had made. "We're going to leave now, Mum and Dad," she told them. "We are still going to leave some form of protection for you." She then reached inside her pocket to retrieve one of the stolen wands. Without words a watch and two coins appeared. The hand of the watch had both Hermione and Malfoy's faces on them. Instead of numbers, there were three words, "Safe", "In Peril", and "Traveling". At that moment it wavered between "In Peril" and "Safe".

Hermione held out the watch to her mother. "This is so you can know if we are okay," she explained as her mother took it from her hand. "If anything bad happens, you'll know."

She then picked both coins and held them out to each of her parents. "Keeps this on you at all times. If anything happens here, and someone does break through the protection I am about to put on the house," said Hermione. "If you need our help, all either of you need to do is hold your coin in your hand and say "I am not safe". I have what you could call the master coin, and it will make it known that you are in danger." She looked at them for conformation that they understood. They both nodded. Hermione now looked at Malfoy, who seemed intrigued by what she had done.

"How are we supposed to find them?" he asked her. "Wouldn't it be more convenient for the coins to send them somewhere safe?"

"I don't want to risk improperly making them," she replied. "It wouldn't be reliable without them knowing how to Apparate on their own."

"What if I make a Portkey for them?" he suggested boastfully. "I am very good at making Portkeys."

Once again, she could not hold back rolling her eyes. "If you must, Malfoy, go ahead and do so. Do you know where the Weasley's live?"

Malfoy looked disgusted. "In the gutter?"

"No, Malfoy," she responded angrily. "The Burrow."

They continued to argue over a safe-place for what seemed like hours. Her parents finally broke it up when it started to get violent. Which means Hermione cursed him.

"That was uncalled for!" he shouted, clutching his wounded and bloody arm as Hermione's mother held her back. "You have an anger problem." The second the words left his lips, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

"_I_ have an anger problem?" she shouted back. "You're the one that tried to kill me! Never has anyone harmed me as greatly as you did! The fact that I allowed to into my house, and helped you escape that hell you were in, after what you did to me! I COULD KILL YOU!"

"Hermione, please, calm down," said Jane. "I don't want to see you this upset."

Hermione sat down next to her mother as Malfoy sat down next to her father.

Her father spoke. "If you two are going to remain married—"

"We're not!" they both interrupted in unison.

"Regardless, you are married now," he continued coolly. "The thing you two need to remember is that you are in danger, and that you only have each other right now. You need to respect each other."

Hermione glared while Malfoy returned the look.

"Stop acting so childish," said Jane. "You two could die! Get over what ever was in the past and just remember to keep each other alive."

"My life would be a hell of a lot better if your bitch of a daughter had died long ago!"

"Because then your dear sweet Pansy would still be alive?" retorted the angry brunette. "If she had stayed with you, she would have died anyway. My experience with your anger makes me believe you would have killed her!"

---

Draco stood quickly. She had gone far beyond the lines of fair game and it became open season once more. Richard was quick to hold him back. "Don't you dare talk about Pansy anymore! I will not hear your dirty mouth defile her name any longer!"

"You think I'm the one with the dirty mouth?" asked Granger maliciously. "Did you ever bother to ask Pansy how many guys she—"

"ENOUGH!" both Richard and Jane shouted. Suddenly Draco remembered they were there. By the look on Granger's face, she had forgotten in her rage as well.

"We will not have you act this way in our house!" exclaimed Jane. "Get over it! There are more important things to worry about, like your safety. And for some reason this watch has slowly made its way to "In Peril"!"

Draco's eyes widened. They had spent much too long in this house. They were far from safe at this point. All their plans were going to fail, the Death Eater's had found him already. The Dark Lord was going to lock him in the basement and torture him when he had no better entertainment.

Without explanation, however, what made his stomach churn the most was the thought of the Dark Lord getting his hands on Granger. _It must be the bonding from the ceremony._

He pulled himself out of Richard's grasp and pulled his wand out. With one flick he closed all the shutters, blind and curtains in the house and locked all the doors. "Granger, take your parents to a room with a lock on it, preferably only one window. NOW!"

Granger looked at him gravely. "There are no locks on any doors except the front and back doors, well there is the basement too."

His eyes widened. The basement. "Bring them there, quickly. Lock all the windows and charm them so they are unbreakable."

Granger did as she was told, leading her shocked parents towards the basement. Draco walked around the house, making a line of protection on the outer rooms. Just as he finished, Granger returned upstairs, wand in hand. "I put a shield around them and told them not to move."

He nodded. "Now what we need to do is seal the house, and find our own way out."

"We can't just leave them here," she argued. "What will they do to protect themselves?"

"If we protect the house enough, no one will be able to tell your parents even live here," he explained. "If we set the charms up just right, any one with the intent of harming them will not be able to see them walk down the street. All they will see is the sidewalk."

---

Hermione contemplated quickly. Her love for her parents couldn't leave them here, but staying posed more of a threat. To all of them.

Without thought she grabbed Malfoy by the hand and put her wand in her pocket. "Give me your other hand," she said. Malfoy looked confused, looking between her and their interlocked hands. "What we need to use right now is no magic from a textbook, we need ancient magic. We need to protect my house with love, Malfoy."

He grabbed her other hand, still seeming unsure of what to do. "This is probably one of the most ridiculous plans you have ever concocted, Granger," he said as they stood, facing each other, hand in hand.

"Now close your eyes and repeat with me "I would give my life to know this house shall stand forever"," she told him. He rolled his eyes at her.

"That will never work!"

"Malfoy, please," she begged. "This is the only thing I know will save them!"

He closed his eyes and spoke with her. They repeated over and over again "I would give my life to know this house shall stand forever", until the walls started shaking, and he felt them both be lifted off the ground. At first he had not believed her idea would work, but he could feel the magic coursing through both of them, growing stronger each time they spoke together.

From out of nowhere the room was full of light, he felt his eyes burn even though his eyes remained closed. It was as if someone had put a strobe light in front of his face. There was a cyclone surrounding them, and before he knew it, the power was gone, and they were both lying on the floor, panting for breath.

Hermione was unable to catch her breath as quickly as Malfoy had. The light show made her eyes out of focus so she closed them once more.

"Granger, are you okay?" she heard a distant voice asked. "Let me give you a hand getting up."

She felt a strong arm grab her by the elbow and pull her up off the floor. Still unable to open her eyes, Hermione wavered a bit and crashed into something soft and stable. She held onto it for dear life, not knowing up from down. Her head was pounding and her eyes felt as if they were on fire.

"This isn't right," she said quietly.

"I'll say, you need to get off of me," she heard Malfoy say. It was then she realized she had been leaning on him this entire time, holding his shoulders for stability.

"Please don't let me fall," she said to him, almost pleading. "That took so much out of me."

---

For some reason or another, Draco found himself suddenly wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her closer to him. He was slightly dizzy from the spell, but the emotion and power Granger had tried to put in it could have been the death of her. Any longer and she probably would have used all of her energy on protecting the house.

He could feel the spell in the air and knew that it had worked. Surprisingly, especially because he had forgotten you could create your own magic.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked softly.

"Can you sit me down?" she requested.

Just as he was helping her to the couch her parents burst in the room. "What happened?" they shouted together.

"We put a powerful protective charm on the house," he tried to explain. "But it took almost all of her energy from her."

"I think it worked though," Jane said as she sat down on the couch with her daughter and started to rub her back. "The watch says "Safe" now."

"I'm sure the second we walk out of this house, however, that will change," he said. "This will leave a trace. It will be unbreakable, I can tell just by the power in the air, but once we leave the safety of this house we are on our own once more."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Long time no update, but here I am again writing fan fiction every few days or so. Right now I am writing Chapter Nine so expect another update eventually.

I will finish this story, by the way. It just might be a little bit.

Love, LeeLee the Lunatic.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Short Recap:**

_For some reason or another, Draco found himself suddenly wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her closer to him. He was slightly dizzy from the spell, but the emotion and power Granger had tried to put in it could have been the death of her. Any longer and she probably would have used all of her energy on protecting the house. _

_He could feel the spell in the air and knew that it had worked. Surprisingly, especially because he had forgotten you could create your own magic. _

"_Are you going to be okay?" he asked softly. _

"_Can you sit me down?" she requested._

_Just as he was helping her to the couch her parents burst in the room. "What happened?" they shouted together._

"_We put a powerful protective charm on the house," he tried to explain. "But it took almost all of her energy from her."_

"_I think it worked though," Jane said as she sat down on the couch with her daughter and started to rub her back. "The watch says "Safe" now."_

"_I'm sure the second we walk out of this house, however, that will change," he said. "This will leave a trace. It will be unbreakable, I can tell just by the power in the air, but once we leave the safety of this house we are on our own once more."_

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Eight**

There was something in the air, Ron could feel it. Harry had been avoiding him all day, having run off into the woods behind the Burrow before dawn. Ron had awoke to the Burrow in a state of panic. His mother was running around wildly as he had walked down the stairs.

"Where's Harry?" he had asked.

His mother looked at him and only glared. "Why don't you tell me? I've been looking for him all morning," she said angrily.

"We got another message from Hermione," he told her quickly. "She escaped Malfoy Manor—"

"We heard," said Ginny, who was sitting at the table, reading _The Daily Prophet_. "Well, I did at least. I was up this morning when Harry came down and left."

"Ginevra, you did not tell me this!" exclaimed Molly.

"You didn't ask me if I knew where Harry had gone," she replied simply. "He only went into the woods to practice. He also took that cup with him, said he wanted to try and 'unravel the mystery' of it. But, if you ask me, I think too much of Dumbledore wore off on him, speaking in puzzles and such."

Molly sighed. "Well at least I can assume he will be okay," she said. The worry on her face, however, was not gone.

Ron had noticed his mother seemed to be looking older months ago, but as he walked by his mother to sit at the table he noticed she had changed greatly. She seemed to have thinned out quite a bit, her face looked older, more wrinkled from concern.

"I'm just astonished Hermione lasted this long," Molly finally spoke, sitting down at the table with them. "I was certain the Malfoy's were going to kill her, or hang her up as bait." Her eyes started to water. "I had so many terrible dreams to us waking up with her head on our doorstep."

Ron inhaled sharply. "Mum, please don't talk like that," he said.

"All I ever wanted was for the three of you to have normal lives," she continued. "The pressure on Harry is too much for any human being to take in. As for Hermione, I just hoped that one day the two of you would get married. She would be good for you."

"Mum!"

"Oh stop it, Ron," said Ginny, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper. "We all know how you feel about Hermione. And I for one know how she feels about you."

"What do you mean?" he asked, burrowing his eyebrows and staring inquisitively.

"I think it's obvious you love her as much as she loves you," she responded.

"Well now she's married to Draco sodding Malfoy," said Ron.

"We all know why, Ron," replied Ginny, still reading. "That tree. It did something to her. I think there is more to it than we will ever know. Her head is probably going every which way right now. I doubt she knows her left from her right."

"We need to help her, that's what we need to do, we need to find a way to pro—"

In that instance a silvery ferret burst through the window. This Patronus spoke with a deep voice. "_Hermione and I require your assistance. Someone please meet us in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole as soon as possible. Red sparks will lead you to us. Hermione is in grave danger, so please hurry._" With that it disappeared.

Ron jumped to his feet. "Was that Malfoy's Patronus?" he exclaimed ruefully.

Ginny had thrown down the paper. "We need to go, now!"

Just then the front door was thrown open and in hurried Harry. "There is something happening in the village, I can see red sparks. Is someone in danger?"

"It's Hermione!" exclaimed Ron, grabbing his robe from the hook by the door and throwing it on. "We need to go, NOW!"

* * *

Draco didn't know what to do, the past few days Granger had gone from peaky to in distress. Her breathing and heart beat were so rapid he could barely tell each breath apart. Her fever had soared from slightly warm to burning hot.

"Do you see that?" she had asked him once she had been able to stand on her own and they had finally left her parents house. She seemed startled as she looked at the houses on the street.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, glancing around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary for a Muggle area.

"Those lights around the houses," she replied. Suddenly she looked at him. "And around you."

He looked down at his hands. "There's no light coming from me," said Draco. This girl really has lost her marbles, he thought. Maybe she just needed to rest for the night somewhere.

"You... You're glowing white," she said, astonished. She looked back at her own house. "So is my house." Once again, she looked down her street. "But that house down there is glowing red, and this one across from us is green."

"I'm going to find us a place to pitch a tent so you can sleep," he grunted. He was started to get annoyed. It was one thing that she had collapsed because of one spell. This was going too far. Maybe she had one of those Muggle brain imbalances he read about. Maybe this was her break down into schizophrenia.

"Do you hear voices as well, Granger? Cause I do not see any damn lights around—" and that was when he looked at her eyes. "What color are your eyes?"

She looked at him, baffled. "Brown, they've always been brown. Why do you care? Right now I'm more worried about the lights around these houses then the fact that my eyes are—"

"Turning gray," he finished for her, holding up a mirror he conjured. One-third of her left eye had turned a blu-ish gray, while her right eye remained the same brown.

Granger froze up and looked at Draco's eyes. "Yours is turning brown, too."

He looked at his own eyes and was startled to find that his right eye was also changing hues.

"What the fuck?"

* * *

It was four days later and Hermione did not know where they had gone, what they had done, or even if she had slept or not. Everything had turned into a blur, with every object and every human being that came into her line of vision she saw color. That was all she could see anymore. No more could she see the road she was walking on, everything surrounding people was an indescribable color, something between blue and purple but not at all either of those colors.

Hermione felt as if she were one step beyond reality, an alternate dimension. As she looked up at the glowing white figure holding her head up, she pondered why he was white. Malfoy was evil. She had always thought so.

The moment he had pushed her up against the wall and strangled her, she had known evil then. Now, something seemed different. Almost _wrong_. As if she were a misplaced object on a back room shelf.

Strangest of all, Malfoy did not seem to be experiencing the same ill-effects Hermione was. Though his eyes had also shifted colors, he wasn't seeing the same way she did. Nor was he falling sick. In fact, he seemed to be feeling better than usual. Other than the occasional whine about his eye being brown, he had been taking care of her. She could only assume this, being unable to make out his face any more. Just a blur of white.

Her heart beat even faster. White. She opened her eyes and could only see were all of the colors swirl in a marvelous spin. She shut her eyes, but the world still spun. The only object in focus was a tree. Sparkling white.

Hermione fell limp in Malfoy's arms while her mind whirled with white trees and tropical fruits bearing bad ideas.

* * *

"I did not do anything to her, I swear!"

Draco was highly enraged. He sent a message so he and Granger could be saved, not so they could tie him to a chair.

"I call bullshit," replied Ronald Weasley. Malfoy never did like him at all. It really had nothing to do with him being poor or coming from a family of blood-traitors. No, it was because Weasley was an idiot.

"You can call what ever kind of shit all you want," said Draco. "It won't change the fact that I did nothing to harm her."

"Other than kidnap her and force her into marriage by planting a tree in our own back yard," Ron snapped back. Draco could sense his panting breaths. He seemed just as enraged as Draco. But this comment struck him as odd. What was this about a tree?

"I assure you my mission was not to simply 'plant a tree' in your backyard," Draco said through gritted teeth. He had stopped struggling against his bindings over a half hour ago, when the inquisition started. "I actually have no idea what you are talking about. Or are you trying to use metaphors? That's a very sickening metaphor, even for me."

Ron hit him on the back of the head sharply.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?" yelled Draco. "You have no right—"

"You are the one that had no right to take her."

Harry Potter had just strutted in the room on his high horse.

He looked at Ron worriedly. "She's in a coma," Harry told.

"Shouldn't we take her to St. Mungo's then?" asked Ron anxiously. "Simple household charms might not—"

"You can't bring her there!" interjected Draco. "They'll find us if you do! She doesn't have the energy to protect herself anymore!"

"We have no choice, she'll die if she stays here," replied Harry Potter angrily.

"And we'll all die if you make us leave this house."

"Harsh words coming from you, Malfoy," said Ron. "You're tied up, what are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to kill anyone," responded Draco. "It'll be the Dark Lord that'll have her head."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, more of a promise if you bring her outside this house," he answered. They were starting to get on his nerves. He knew she would die without proper medical treatment, but there was another way. Draco was certain it was just their panic that had made him worry. He didn't actually _care. _ "If you just untie me, I can call the family doctor, he makes house calls."

Ron glanced at Harry, who had retrieved his wand from inside his robes. "Harry, are you actually going to believe this traitor? Dumbledore would still be alive if it weren't for him!"

"I did not kill Dumbledore! You saw, Potter, it was Snape!"

"He's right, you know, Ron," said Harry. "He was too much of a coward to kill Dumbledore."

"But that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to kill you," said Ron. "He's got the Mark, Harry. You cannot trust him."

"Right now, all that matters is keeping Hermione alive. And he is the only person that can get us the help we need." He then turned his eyes on Draco. "If you do try anything, however, I will not regret killing you."

His binds came undone and Draco could breath a little bit easier. On the other hand, he now was in charge of helping Granger.

"The only problem is I need a wand to call him, and I need to keep that wand so I can change his memory before he leaves," he explained as he stood up and brushed his robes off. Harry reached inside his robe once more and handed Draco the wand Harry had taken from him when they had met in the village. Both boys, however, kept their wands out, prepared as if Draco were to attack. "Bloody hell, calm yourselves down. I need to make sure Hermione stays alive just as much as you want her alive."

* * *

It was nearly two hours later and Dr. Maurrie was still at the Burrow. He had been a smart man not to ask why Draco was at the Weasley residence. That did not change the fact that Draco was going to remove the memory of the visit from his head.

"What exactly happened before Mrs. Malfoy fell into this condition?" the mouse-like man asked Draco when he had first looked at the girl. He heard Ron groan from the corner of the sitting room. Once this fiasco was over he was going to make sure to rub that in his face. That red-headed baboon needed to be mocked for loving Hermione. Or maybe he'd just start now.

"My wife and I preformed a protection charm on her parents house," he answered simply, sadly. He was not afraid of divulging all this information, his ability to Obliviate was very advanced for his age, having been taught by a master, the Dark Lord. "But we did not use any textbook spells, my wife Hermione suggested we use some ancient magic." It was so odd to be using her first name, he couldn't help but get an odd lurch in his stomach each time he said it. "After we had finished the enchantment, she fell to the ground."

"Her illness is from the ancient magic," the doctor diagnosed. "She tried to perform an ancient spell of love for protection. It is a very powerful spell, very rarely used spell. You're lucky you called me, or she will be dead within a day—"

"What?" Harry, Ron, and, strangely enough, Draco, exclaimed.

"I studied ancient magic for a very long time, I never thought I would see anything like this happen," he answered. "The power in Mrs. Malfoy provided you the energy to perform that spell, and set the spell perfectly. But because you were unaware you were protecting her as well as the house, because your instinct for love did not kick in at that point in time, you took most of her energy. If you believe in the soul, yours crossed in that spell. But your energy tried to force hers away."

"I'm sorry but this is absolutely crazy," replied Ron. "Have you both gone bonkers?"

"Most of the magic used centuries ago was based around emotion," said Draco with a demeaning glance. "Love, hate, sadness, every emotion you had, was your energy. We didn't always haves magical wands, you know."

Ron blushed and shot an angry glare at Draco. "I was more focused on that crossing souls, neither of you have the power to do that form of magic. Your soul would need to be damaged before-hand," he announced smartly. "That means both of you would have done some terrible magic spells. While I know you have done some Dark magic, I can't imagine Hermione performing Dark magic."

Draco shook his head. "Hermione is very capable of some terrible magic," he said with a smirk. "How do you think we escaped my parents house? That we just walked right out the door with no problem?" He laughed a little. "No, we got out when she had a tantrum and almost destroyed my Manor with an earthquake. She was in a rage, she was terrified, she wanted out and she knocked my parents out, probably severely injured them, not to mention the house-elves in the basement—"

"She wouldn't hurt a house-elf—"

"That's neither here nor there," the doctor interrupted. "What we need to focus on right now is curing her."

"How do you suppose we do that?" asked Ron vividly, still glaring at Draco.

"With an ancient curse, the only cure is an ancient healing love spell," replied Dr. Maurrie. "Since Mr. Malfoy obviously does not have true love for Hermione, which one of you does?"

Harry immediately looked at Ron. "This is your chance, mate," he said with a slight smile.

Ron looked at the doctor. "I'll do whatever I have to," he told the man.

The doctor turned and looked at Draco, who for some reason was nervous and shaken by what had just happened. Ron loved his wife. Was truly and deeply in love with her. It was an outrage! She was his, if only through Ministry paperwork and a compromise for escape. It should be him at lead in the spell, not this Weasley! If only his father were here to see this, how infuriated he would be. Shame on the family. He was the powerful one, not Ron.

"I wish your parents were as lively as this," the man smiled. "I was hoping you'd break free of them someday, they always kept you down. But I do not understand why you cannot love the girl on that couch who gave something great to you, marriage. The bond between you cannot be broken, even with an annulment or divorce. No matter what happens you will always have a connection. That's why the magic worked, you had that enough for that love spell. It can only work between a married couple." He looked up again. "Now let's set this up. We'll need sage, green candles, and something white, pure white."

* * *

The green candles had been lit, the sage was burning, and Ron sat with Hermione's head in her lap. They had removed the furniture from the sitting room and sat in a circle. Harry next to Ron on one side, and Draco on the other. At her feet the doctor had taken a seat, cross-legged. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were on the side closest to Harry, while Mr. Weasley had sat across from them, on the other side of Hermione's leg, closest to Draco. They had all agreed they loved Hermione, Draco couldn't fathom why he was sitting with them.

Hermione's face was flushed red with fever, her hair a sweaty mess. Though it may sound attractive, it was actually quite scary. She looked almost inhuman to Draco. She wasn't supposed to look like that, she needed to look well, alive. Not sad and weak. She was not weak. It was then he noticed Ron was gently running his fingers through Hermione's hair.

"Don't touch my wife," he snapped suddenly. Ron stopped and pulled his hand away.

"Before we start, Mr. Malfoy, you need to shift your jealousy and rage to love. What you love doesn't need to be in this room, but you need to think of something you truly love," the doctor informed him. Draco tried, but couldn't shake the feeling of unease about this. He was the reason this happened, should he even be involved?

The doctor had draped the white sheet underneath Hermione after placing a quite chant, almost prayer, upon it. Everything was very traditional. Draco only knew this because of the Dark Lord, they had practiced those spells and customs the individual days Draco had spent learning from the Dark Lord and his aunt, Bellatrix. His father would have done this if he hadn't been in Azkaban.

Only difference, he realized, was the emotion they were using. Draco had been taught of anger and rage, hate and loathing. All this was set up in love. He looked at Hermione once more, her limp hand was beside his. He looked down at her frail and small hand, not realizing he was reaching for it until he locked it tenderly in his own.

"Mr. Malfoy, I think you should be at the top, now that I have thought about it," said the doctor suddenly.

"But I love her more!" shouted Ron. "He's the reason this happened to her!"

"Regrettably I agree with him," said Draco. "I don't think I should be apart of this at all. I do not love her." Everyone seemed to throw him a look of disgust. "I'm not going to lie when her life is on the line. I don't want to be the reason she dies. She is my wife, and I do have some small part of me that cares, but—"

"That's good enough," said the doctor. He motioned for Draco to switch with Ron, who glared, but obliged to the doctor Dr. Maurrie then added, "Now that a part of her soul is in yours, which I can see by your eyes and hers, you have a further connection than just the marriage bond. I didn't notice your eyes before. You share halves of your souls. This spell could reverse that slightly as well."

Draco sat down as the doctor had and lifted Granger's head onto his lap. He couldn't even think the name Hermione at the moment. Draco was thinking of looking in the mirror the rest of his life and seeing his unloved wife in the mirror. Oh, the goddamn irony of life. He wanted to fix it, mainly so she would not have to be reminded of him once this craze had passed. Draco wanted her to be okay, that's all he had wanted for the past several days. When she had collapsed in his arms, it felt as if the world around him had fallen as well. He never felt more shaken in his life, unable to even think of a plan. He did not have the slightest idea of what he should do. But this spell could help her. Even though Draco's heart was not Hermione's, he would make it hers just for this.

"Now, everyone place their wands to the right side of their bodies," the doctor instructed. Everyone removed their wands from their robes and put them on the floor beside them. "Mr. Malfoy, place your hands softly on either side of your wife's face. Look down directly at her. Halfway through the enchantment, her eyes should open. Do not break eye contact with her at any point, this is vital. You will feel the energy go through you, but do not panic, it will not harm you as long as you think of love."

Draco nodded and exhaled deeply. He didn't want this responsibility anymore. What if things went wrong? Draco's love was anything but pure. Ron could have it back, thought Draco. "Are you sure I should do this?"

"Let's just get on with it," said Harry before Ron could speak his mind on the matter. "The sooner we do this, the better, for Hermione's sake."

Once again Draco nodded. "Lead me, Dr. Maurrie."

Twenty minutes of rambling what sounded like Gaelic had started making everyone nervous. Not because it was a hard language to repeat well, but rather, Draco had turned a bright red as well, and his face was strained with what looked like pain. No one was sure if it was from sudden sadness. It greatly seemed that way when he spoke the words of the spell. He was stroking the side of her face unexplainably.

Of course, how would they have known he was thinking of Pansy. Well, only at first. Illogically his mind had traveled from missing Pansy, to realizing what Hermione had done for him, what she had put up with so valiantly and without fear. The only time he saw her scared, was once. Draco could punch himself for ever doing that to her. He tried not to do that to Pansy so much, and never did. Why should it be different for his wife?

The spell was getting louder and the room was filled with a noticeable wind surrounding their circle.

Hermione Granger was not the woman he should have married, but that gave him no excuse to treat her like a piece of rubbish. Never did he want to see himself at such a low. He promised to look after her, and protect her, even for false reasons, he did not like to go back on his word. It didn't matter that she was a Mudblood, it was a matter of loyalty and trust. Hermione had made it obvious she could be trusted, as long as he compromised.

Draco had fallen back on his word. It was high time he made up for that.

Her eyes burst open and Draco saw a flash of gray. Her eyes had completely turned gray! They flashed brilliantly, and he couldn't help but smile at this. The magic was beautiful and Draco respected it. Not every Wizard could handle this power, this energy. He felt it course through his fingers and her face tingled the palms of his hands. A shiver went up his spine and he could say, looking into her eyes, so connected to his, that he knew what love was.

Without notice, everyone fell out of the spell. Except Draco and Hermione. He rested his forehead on hers before lifting his head to kiss hers.

* * *

Hermione had no idea what just happened. She awoke from terrible nightmares to the peculiarly calming eyes of Malfoy shifting between gray and brown. His face glowed, but she could see every detail perfectly. The white glow around him had dimmed, but was distinctly stronger in feeling. The large energy suddenly went away and she felt his head rest on hers briefly before he kissed it. She felt his warm lips touch her forehead gently. She sat up so shaken that Draco held her shoulders.

"What happened?" she panted. "What happened to that tree in the backyard? I must know!"

Ron wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from Draco. "That's a discussion for another time," he replied sweetly.

* * *

Draco stood up and gestured at the doctor while everyone fussed over Hermione. "I think you should go now," he said quickly, remembering what he needed to do. He wanted to do the charm while he still was full of energy left over from the spell. He could still feel it coursing through his body rapidly. The doctor stood, but hesitated.

"We really should get her some chocolate," responded Dr. Maurrie. Draco walked over to him and motioned him out the door.

"I think we should care for her," he answered as they headed through the kitchen. "There are some things we need to discuss. I'll get her chocolate myself, I assure you."

Abruptly, he pointed his wand at the doctor and felt the memory in his mind as he took it from the doctor's mind. "You went to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole to gather rare nightshade that grows with the wildflowers around here."

The doctor's eyes were blank and Draco led him out the door, and walked him passed the point the Weasley's had informed him was the line of protection. After this line, the doctor would not even be able to see a house, only woods. Dr. Maurrie would also not be able to return passed the line in his confused state that would last a few hours due to a Confundus charm protecting the land.

Draco stepped back across the line and hurried back into the house. He returned to the sitting room to find only Harry and Ron inside anymore, the old looking red-head women Draco would have said was Ron's grandmother had started making dinner it seemed, along with the skinny girl he could recall went to Hogwarts, but could not recall her name. When he walked through the kitchen, he noticed her glare was homicidal. Their disgrace of a father was cleaning out a room upstairs for Draco to stay in.

Ron still had Hermione in his arms, but both he and Harry were speaking to her.

"That tree was planted there so you would run away," finished Ron. "But you did not eat the last one, so you didn't act willingly like you were supposed to."

"What lies are you filling her head with?" a cold and new voice had entered the conversation.

"None of your business, Malfoy. Although I'm sure you know what I'm talking about," said Ron to Malfoy. "That tree in our backyard you or your father planted. It was part of your brilliant plan to take Hermione."

She only heard him laugh. Hermione kept her eyes closed, they burned. Her head ached. "Are you still going on with that shameful metaphor? I did not impregnate her!"

"You better not have!" Harry shouted. "Or I will kill you."

Malfoy continued to badger them, though. "Neither did my father, so stop saying—"

Hermione decided she needed to stop the nonsense. "They're talking about the white tree I kept seeing in my dream," she looked up from Ron's shoulder at Malfoy, who had remained in the doorway, leaning sideways with his arms folded across his chest. "I've been dreaming about it every night since I left here. I finally know what it means, and I remember what happened.

"I found a tree in the backyard and ate the fruit," said Hermione as loudly as she could. Oh what she would give for a glass of water. "I had to go back every day, like an addiction. I left because it scared me, it made me think differently about everything. I became a threat, not a help to Harry's cause."

"I've never heard of such a thing," responded the blonde, only slightly curious. She doubted he even cared.

Hermione sighed before continuing. "It's very Dark and old magic. I doubt you knew anything about it. You're father was probably very sly about it. I doubt he planted it though, personally. He would have been in jail at the time." She was only being honest. Clearly, she could remember the tree, the day she happened to cross it on a walk. The exact date was a mystery, but she knew it was before Lucius Malfoy had escaped. His son had been ordered to pick her up off the street that same day he escaped.

But as she glanced up at Draco Malfoy, her husband, she could not help but feel a great sudden compassion for what he had done. He had saved her life. Regardless of if he caused it, he saved her. Draco had given in to the one feeling she thought he was void of, he felt love. She didn't care if it was for her or not, it meant a change.

She stood up quickly and rushed into giving him a hug. "Thank you," she said honestly. Draco only tensed before slightly relaxing.

"You're welcome," he spoke back so only she could hear him. She backed out of the hug but was pulled back by an arm around hers. Before she knew it, he had pulled her face to face with him. "Your eye is outlined in grey still."

This comment shocked her. The sight she lost had returned to her, more sharp then ever before. She was certain that had been the only reason for the glowing. But as she looked at him, the glowing still had not disappeared completely. He still had an aura about him.

"And yours are speckled with brown" she responded frankly. "I guess we'll always have that remember each other by." She then added, sarcastically, "Wonderful."

He let go of her arm just as he replied unhappily, "Don't remind me."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, who both wore a look of worry and confusion. "I missed you both so much," she burst. Her heart was full of content. For the first time in months, Hermione felt safe. Draco wouldn't dare try to hurt her here. Furthermore, if the Death Eaters had tracked them there, they would have already attacked. She couldn't figure how they hadn't, but she knew things were okay. Harry stood and reached out to give Hermione a hug.

"You never were a problem, nor did you weigh us down," he spoke in her ear. "If anything, I should not let you help me, because you will not be completely safe until this war is over. You were always the one with the solutions. Without you, I would not have made it this far."

She pulled back and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Harry," she said. Of course, she meant it in a strictly platonic way, which Harry fully understood.

"Hermione," said Ron suddenly. She did not know what had gotten into him since she had left, but he seemed willing to show his feelings for her finally. "Can I talk to you?"

* * *

Less than one hour later, Ron had a bloody nose, Draco had two black eyes, and Harry was clutching his stomach. Hermione sat between Draco and Ron, while Harry held his stomach on the armchair.

"Never have I seen the three of you so immature and unruly," she spoke heated words. "Here I am, barely able to talk, and you storm in, Malfoy, and punch Ronald in the face for telling me the truth, followed by you, Harry, punching him from behind. You all deserve to be hurt right now. Especially you, Malfoy. Why would you kick someone in the stomach?"

"He came at me from behind," exclaimed Malfoy, his brown speckled gray eye swollen almost shut. "You can't lie and say you wouldn't do the same. It was a cheap shot."

"You all got in a cheap shot," she replied, still full of anger. "If I had been able to react correctly I would have bound all three of you the second you stormed in. But in my weakened state you were able to go at each other like a pack of wolves."

"Can you just get rid of this black-eye?"

"That would be my job," said Mrs. Weasley, sweeping in the room with her first aid kit and going from one injured boy to the next, fixing their ailments. Draco's black eye disappeared, Ron's nose realigned, and Harry's stomach unbruised. "I think it's best if you all come into the kitchen for dinner now. You shouldn't stay in the same room without supervision. I don't blame you, Hermione dear, they acted like a group of baboons."

* * *

Hermione ate in the sitting room. Mrs. Weasley had ordered Draco to eat his with her and sent him off with a carrying tray so she wouldn't be alone. Ron protested to this, but Molly and Arthur hushed him. Hermione knew they wanted to talk about this situation without either of them in the room. She was actually quite fine enough to eat at the table.

But instead Draco came in with a tray and sat down with her on the couch, awfully more closely then he ever would have before. He took his wand out and morphed the tray to rest over both their legs.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he spoke after a long silence. They had both eaten half their plates without a word. "I honestly can't believe I let myself become my father for that moment."

She looked at him curiously. "What is wrong with you? Where is the snappy remark?"

He rolled his eyes as if on cue. "Why, Mrs. Malfoy? It's not like I'm admitting my undying love for you," he remarked, over dramatically.

Hermione responded with her own eye roll. He had not changed at all. "I was just commenting on your lack of wit and astounding new ability to act the barbarian," she replied.

He put his fork down quickly and turned to look at her so sharply that the motion made her drop her own fork. "What?" she asked.

Draco merely looked at her face and her eyes. "I have this strange feeling, Granger," he started. "In the pit of my stomach."

"If you're going to puke, please face the other way," said Hermione, looking back down at her food and reclaiming her fork.

"No," said Draco, lifting his hand to her chin, tenderly turning her back to face him. "I have this sudden urge to kiss you and it's overwhelming."

She smiled curiously, almost mockingly. That smile did it. He lowered his head and kissed her firmly on the lips. The kiss was everything but romantic, Hermione being so stoic and stunned. He removed his lips. "It's okay to kiss back," he whispered. "Unless you don't know how."

Hermione pushed Draco away. "Don't you dare ever do that again!" she exclaimed, pulling her hands and face backward.

He recoiled. No one had ever rejected a kiss from him. It actually _hurt_.

Though he could probably never fully explain what had changed in him. What he did know, however, was that the empty space Pansy had left in his heart was now full of love again.

His other side took over however. "As if I would actually enjoy kissing you," he retorted. "My brain is just a traumatized from the spell."

"By the way," he added. "You're a terrible kisser."

* * *

**Author's Note: Here you go once more! I have a feeling I will be ending this story earlier than originally expected. Of course, I started this years ago, so my ideas have changed greatly on how this story should play out.**

**Thank you to everyone who is still reading, and to those of you who just started reading this story. To me, this is the greatest fan fiction I have ever written, so thank you for your support.**

I am currently in the middle of Chapter Ten, so when I have gotten half-way through Chapter Eleven I will let you all see Chapter Nine. I'm pretty sure you will all like it very much. If you want a sneak peek after you read this chapter, just check out my profile for it. I'll be putting it up shortly.

Love, LeeLee the Lunatic.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Short Recap:**

"_I was just commenting on your lack of wit and astounding ability to act the barbarian," Hermione replied._

_He put his fork down quickly and turned to look at her so sharply that the motion made her drop her own fork. "What?" she asked._

_Draco merely looked at her face and her eyes. "I have this strange feeling, Granger," he started. "In the pit of my stomach."_

"_If you're going to puke, please face the other way," said Hermione, looking back down at her food and reclaiming her fork._

"_No," said Draco, lifting his hand to her chin, tenderly turning her back to face him. "I have this sudden urge to kiss you and it's overwhelming."_

_She smiled curiously, almost mockingly. That smile did it. He lowered his head and kissed her firmly on the lips. The kiss was everything but romantic, Hermione being so stoic and stunned. He removed his lips. "It's okay to kiss back," he whispered. "Unless you don't know how."_

_Hermione pushed Draco away. "Don't you dare ever do that again!" she exclaimed, pulling her hands and face backward._

_He recoiled. No one had ever rejected a kiss from him. It actually _hurt_._

_Though he could probably never fully explain what had changed in him. What he did know, however, was that the empty space Pansy had left in his heart was now full of love again._

_His other side took over however. "As if I would actually enjoy kissing you," he retorted. "My brain is just a traumatized from the spell."_

"_By the way," he added. "You're a terrible kisser._

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Nine**

For a whole week the Weasley house was in a state of tension. Hermione was still too weak to continue traveling and Mrs. Weasley would not let either leave until she was fit. The newlyweds did not speak to each other unless absolutely necessary. In fact, Draco barely left the room they prepared for him to stay in. Hermione spent most of the days lying in Ginny's room talking with her. Once every few hours Ron or Harry would ask her to talk with them.

At meals, Draco sat at the far end of the table, away from everyone. This was accepted, because he wouldn't talk, and no one really had anything to say to him. Rather, he would finish his plate, clean it at the sink by hand, and return to his temporary room. No one knew that he was thinking of what move they could make next, where they could go to be safe. He was also practicing protection charms. Draco had realized the caution and security they needed until Hermione had regained full strength, which would not happen for long after they left, he knew.

Of course he had forgotten to mention this to Mrs. Weasley, who would make them remain there. It wouldn't be long before the Death Eaters were able to sweep in.

They needed a plan, and they needed it as soon as possible. This was life or death for the both of them. He needed to get her out of this, seeing as he had gotten her into this mess.

If only he had not tried to impress his pig father and the cruel Dark Lord. If his mother had let them runaway when they had the chance, had given in to Dumbledore's request of shelter and safety.

He had become a mess of emotion since the two spells. Something had shaken his mind and awoke a part that he didn't recall ever existing.

There was a knock at his door. This was the first time all week someone was trying to communicate with him.

"Don't worry, I'm not wanking off," he responded, sitting up on the uncomfortable bed. "You can come in."

The door opened and Hermione popped her head in. It was very late at night, from what he could gather by glancing out the window.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked.

He shrugged and shifted his spot on the bed so she could sit down beside him. She stepped in and closed the door behind her quietly. After sitting on the bed next to him she only stared into his eyes. They sat in silence for a moment before she leaned up and kissed him on the lips briskly.

"I've been thinking," she started, acting as if she had done nothing after sitting down. "When I woke up from those terrible dreams, and saw you looking at me, I felt completely fine. I knew in that instant that I was okay."

"Aw, Granger, I think I'm going to tear up," he responded with a smirk.

She shook her head. "Ginny told me that I wake her up every night with my nightmares," she continued. "They shake her room. Ginny said she could feel the sadness in her bones."

Draco didn't know what to say. It only furthered his belief that she was a powerful witch. More powerful than anyone could have foretold.

"I don't know what it means," Hermione added. "But they only stop when you enter my dreams."

"You should lie down," was all he could offer. Draco shifted the pillows and pulled the comforter down.

She looked at him curiously.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her down on the bed, laying down next to her, slightly leaning over her. Without words he pulled the blanket up.

"I'm going to be honest with you," he said finally. "The past week I've been having nightmares too, which only end when you arrive."

Draco looked down into her tainted eyes. He never had liked brown eyes, but missed the way hers used to look. In his dreams her eyes were unchanged.

"I've grown a fondness to you, Malfoy," said Hermione. "It's unexplainable, but I care about you. I see something more when I look at you then I did before."

He frowned at this and sat up abruptly. "What the bloody hell has happened to us?" he remarked. "I remember loathing you."

Hermione sat up and moved closer to him. "I remember that too," she said. "You were a loathsome little cockroach. But now, all I want to do is lay down with you and know that, even if only for just this moment, everything is fine."

"Can we go back to hating each other in the morning?" he asked, quite innocently. Hermione couldn't hide her smile.

"Of course."

Draco looked down at her and kissed her forehead before falling back onto his pillow. The brunette followed suit and rested her head on his chest, one arm wrapped around her. He caressed her back, lightly running his fingers up and down her spine. He felt her relax and almost melt into him.

The newlyweds fell into sleep, almost forgetting that, in the morning, they would go back to hating one another.

---

It was a little over a month after Hermione and Draco's one night of spontaneity. They hadn't dared to even hug since then, even though they had long left the Burrow. This was, of course, met with protests from everyone. Mainly suggesting Draco was just going to lead Hermione to her death.

At the moment, they sat in a tent outside of a village in Ireland. The air was actually quite warmer than usual. Draco had somehow made it a habit to watch Hermione sleep peacefully. It was rare for her to not shake or dream badly. Although, it might have something to do with him rubbing his hand up and down her back. The bushy brunette had started to seem frightened. Draco really did not want to sit through another night of her whimpering and crying. It caused a strange feeling in his chest.

Ron had been enraged to find out Hermione spent the night in Draco's room. Draco smiled at this. Oh the things that must have went through his mind! Not only had Draco married the girl Ron Weasley loved, he had also made Ron think he had actually slept with her.

Hermione stirred slightly and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked through a sleepy gaze.

"The sun is about to come up," he responded quietly, standing up quickly. "I should return to my watch outside."

All she could do was smile at his retreating back. This was not the first time she had woken to him rubbing her back or just watching her sleep. Though it might creep any other girl out, Hermione realized what he was doing. He was stopping her bad dreams. Of course, her dreams had instead turned to Draco and her... well... she didn't want _anyone_ to know what exactly her dreams consisted of.

Sitting up, Hermione remembered the night she spent in Draco's arms. Ginny had been the one to encourage that, saying there was unresolved sexual tension between them. She thought Hermione was going to actually resolve that problem.

When she informed the red-head in the morning that they had done nothing more than kiss, she was met by a look of disappointment.

---

Ginny knew much more than she would ever let on. During the spell, she had seen how Draco looked into Hermione's eyes. She saw the love his look had carried.

It was undeniable, Draco Malfoy was madly in love with Hermione Granger. Naturally, it was unbeknownst to him.

Ginny smiled, observing Harry approach the Burrow through the kitchen window. It was well past dark, the rest of her family had already gone to bed. She had remained awake, watching for him.

Harry opened the door and seemed startled that Ginny was waiting. "I'll never get used to seeing nothing in the window but an empty house," he explained as he closed the door softly. He walked over to the table and retrieved a small cup from his pocket. Sitting down in a chair, he put the mystery down in front of him. "I don't think I will ever figure this out."

Ginny sat down beside him. "You shouldn't think like that," she said. "If you're negative about it, the spells won't be as strong. You need to think that you can do it; you need to be convincing that whatever you are doing is going to work. No matter how many times you fail."

Harry sighed exasperatedly. "The problem is that I don't know what spells to even use," he replied. "I wish Hermione could have stayed. She would know what to do."

"You should ask Ron," said Ginny with a grin. "He took all of Hermione's books from my room."

Harry gave her a look of disbelief. "He would have—"

"Ronald would not tell you unless you asked," she interrupted. "He wants you to ask for his help."

The puzzled Boy-Who-Lived frowned and looked back at the cup. "Of course he would be selfish about this," he said. "It's not like the fate of the world rests in our hands."

Ginny stood and headed for the stairs. "Wake him up in the morning when you leave," she told him. "I'm sure he'll be glad to help if you ask."

Just as her foot reached the first stair, Harry spoke, "Hold on," he said, standing and walking towards her. She stepped back and faced him.

Ginny cocked her eyebrow.

Without further warning, Harry grabbed her and pulled her into a deep embrace, nuzzling his face into her hair. "I've wanted to hold you like this again for months," he whispered.

She gave in and wrapped her arms around him. They stood together for what could have been a lifetime before he bent his head down and kissed the top of her head. The once-couple stepped away from each other and broke their hug.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said, giving him one last smile before going up the stairs.

"Goodnight, love," Ginny heard him reply as she reached the top.

---

Draco sat under the rising sun in the brisk morning air. He scanned the trees surrounding their set up. He had personally set up all of the protection charms, some he dared not tell Hermione he had used.

Something had been gnawing at this head about that girl, something Ronald Weasley had mentioned. The only way they could have ever performed that first spell would have been if she had damaged her soul in some way. At the time period those spells were used, it was a right of passage to be taught ways of opening your mind, body, and soul in order to use magic.

Part of him thought she had played around with ancient practices, while another suggested she had to have used something terrible. Or could it possibly been the process of the marriage bond which did it?

_Just another way you wronged her,_ he thought to himself. Just then, Hermione came outside, fully dressed and ready for their next destination. Draco could not help but notice her hair was still in a tangle from sleep.

"What exactly did I do to receive that look?" she asked, cocking her head.

Not knowing what look he had given her, he could only remark the way his father would. "You disrupted my peaceful thinking with your hideous mess of hair," retorted the blonde.

She touched her hair and frowned. "I guess you're right," said Hermione. "It is a tad messy. Could you perhaps do one of those beauty charms you know?"

He glared, but obliged. With one single flick of his wand, her hair brushed itself out and turned into soft curls. "Beautiful," he heard himself say. _Shit, I need to remember those thoughts are the kind best left in my head,_ he thought to himself, mentally kicking himself in the arse.

She looked around as if there were someone else around that would have said that. "What?" she asked quickly, looking highly bewildered by the comment.

"Let's get going," he responded, quickly waving his wand to pack up all their things. "I was thinking we could settle somewhere in Poland for the next few days. I know a very remote, abandoned village outside of Krakow. I doubt we'll have to worry about anyone, or anything for that matter, bothering us."

Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that he had something planned more than just going to Poland for isolation. The way he had been watching her since they left the Burrow and the sincerity in his eyes every time he said 'goodnight' to her. Draco had also taken a liking to watching outside, telling her to remain inside even when she was awake. He had acquired several books for Hermione from a library they had passed by somewhere in Scotland, but she had read through them all twice over and started feeling anxious from lack of worth.

He put their new, shrunken tent into his pocket and held his arm out for her to hold. She grasped on and closed her eyes as the rush of wind and sound compacted and suffocated her at the same time. When she had regained a sense of balance she opened her eyes. The field they stood in had a mixed beauty to it. Everything was dead from the cold, save for a couple of trees that looked like they could bear through the weather well.

Almost immediately Draco had put up the tent and started saying enchantments to keep people away from them. She watched him perform layer after layer of spells, walking in a growing circle around their camp. He did not stop until he had reached the edge of the field. This time, he placed a much broader area around them.

Once he returned near the tent he sparked a fire and pulled some pots and pans out of the bag he had minimized earlier along with the tent.

Twenty minutes later, he handed Hermione a bowl of vegetable soup. "Did you actually cook the Muggle way?" she asked with a smirk, which she had only recently acquired.

"It's very fulfilling to know I was able to steal without using magic," he started, sitting down beside her with his own bowl. "Even more so to know you did not notice."

She shook her head. "There are some things I will never understand about you, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"That's husband to you, Malfoy," he replied with a grin.

"Must you remind me?" she sardonically replied, rolling her eyes.

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence, aside from the slurping. Hermione finished every drop and cleaned the bowl with her wand before placing it inside their travel bag. She sat down once more beside Draco on the ground, her arms around her legs and her head upon her knees.

"Do you ever think we'll be safe again?" she asked, staring into the woods in front of her. "Will there ever be a time we won't have to run?"

Draco put his bowl on the ground and moved closer towards her, placing his arm around her. "When Harry wins the war," he said quietly to her. "You won't ever see my face again."

She lifted her arm and pulled his head towards hers. Resting her forehead on his, she spoke. "I don't want that to happen."

"Are you saying you'd rather the Dark Lord win?" asked Draco with a half-smile, knowing full well what she meant.

"Please, don't leave me," Hermione whispered quietly, shutting her eyes.

Draco brought his hand to her cheek. "I only assumed that would be your choice," he said. "To never see me again."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I would never be able to look in a mirror again if I tried to forget you," said the brunette softly. "I would see my own eyes, but be looking into yours."

"How very poetic."

"Shut up!"

"With one catch," he said before tilting his head down and claiming her lips. This time, she kissed back. He deepened it, leading his tongue into her mouth.

Without a second thought Draco grabbed her by the waist and pulled her on top of him. "Once again, we can go back to hating each other in the morning," he explained as he pulled her face to his yet again. "For tonight, however, I'll prove otherwise."

--

Hermione and Draco kissed for hours, but did nothing more. He wouldn't try anything more now. Of course, his original thought when he decided to bring her to Poland had been for something more, but he soon found out Hermione had done nothing more than kiss in her life.

He had tried slipping his hand up her shirt, and that's when it ended. She pushed his hand away, broke their kiss, and moved herself to sit beside him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Hermione avoided his eyes. "I've never done anything like that before," she admitted. "I mean— I've kissed before like that, but not any further. I just don't think—"

"So you really are a prude, then?" he asked mockingly, his eyes flared more than they had in weeks.

Standing up, Hermione shot a glare at him. "I am not prude, you bastard," she shouted, her hands balled fists. "I just have not found the person that I would like to do anything more with. That includes you. Snogging you is one thing, fucking you would probably be the end of my life."

Draco stood up and threw his arms in the air. "How exactly would it be the end of your life?" he yelled back. "If anything, it would be the end of MINE. I am the one who ruined my status by marrying you. The fact that I even want to kiss you should make you feel honored!"

"Honored!?" she asked, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "You think I would be honored to kiss you? I am disgusted when I kiss you. I have hated you for the past seven years of my life, so in no way am I honored to kiss you!"

He took a step towards her. "If you had never kissed me, you would still be the foulest snogger in all of Europe," he remarked. "I am the one that taught you how to kiss so well."

She laughed. "Don't think so highly of yourself," said Hermione with a smirk. "Viktor Krum was a much better kisser than you."

"Is that your only experience then?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You of all people, Granger, should know perfection of anything takes practice. That's probably why old Viktor was so good. You weren't the first."

"Never once did I get the delusion that I was."

It was Draco's turn to smirk. "I have a feeling you _did_ think that," he said. "You thought _wonderful_ Viktor could not have possibly been whoring himself around at Hogwarts. Let me tell you, Granger, that not only was he seeing you, but on the side he was seeing someone from every House. Actually, there were two from Slytherin I personally know he did more than snog. I guess you just weren't doing enough."

"That is exactly why I never did more with him," she replied. "All you boys are the same; you act as if it's the greatest insult in the world to be denied sex."

By now Hermione had backed so far away that she was almost against the tent post. She was terrified this would end badly, violently. Draco stepped even closer. "Here you have me standing in front of you, offering to give you the greatest night of your life," he started. "And you're telling me that I'm not worthy enough. Sex is not about love—"

"Yes it is!" she shouted, her eyes were flaring up beautifully. "Sex is the greatest show of love. If I loved you, Malfoy, I would be all about it, but right about now I'm back to loathing you more than ever!"

He rushed forward and pushed her up against the tend post, pressing himself up against her. "Sex can be about that, too," he explained as she tried pushing him away. His head was only inches from hers. "I hate you more than anything, but for some reason all I want is to ravage you right here, right now."

She slammed her fist against his chest. "I'm saying no!" shouted Hermione.

He grabbed her chin and pulled her into a kiss. "I'm saying please," he said softly. His tone had changed quite a bit. Draco did no longer want to kill her, he just wanted her.

She pushed at him once more. "No," she said simply. He took a stepped back and released her.

Draco shrugged. "Your loss," he told her before conjuring an armchair and sitting down. Hermione stood still, in shock. She was certain he was going to force her. That was the reason he had brought her here, there was no one for miles, no one would have heard her if she had screamed. But he stopped. She sighed a breath of relief before entering the tent and lying down on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling Hermione pondered the past few months of her life more than ever before. Was Draco Malfoy really the one she should be trusting with her life? It was true he had saved her from an imminent death, and performed a deadly spell that could have cost him his own life just for hers, but was it all a ruse?

There had been times she thought he had tricked her with their compromise. _I bet he's trying to get me to fall for him so he can still follow through with his father's plan, _she contemplated. _This is just one big mess I got myself into. Why did I eat from that tree?_

_It had just looked so appealing, like there was nothing wrong with it. And now Malfoy is doing the same, acting sincere and nice just to get me to follow him, to give in without knowing._

She stood up and peaked out of the tent, looking intently at the back of Draco's head. He was just like his father in every way, regardless of how often he told her he did not want to be like Lucius.

---

The rain was falling hard on the roof of the tent. Hermione lay on the bed, as usual, waiting for something to happen or somewhere new to go. Malfoy and her and not spoken for several days now, and neither had even tried to move to a new destination. What was the use? They would just end up in a different forest in a different country. Together they knew barely anything about the outside world, including their own. Hermione did not even know what day of the week it was, not to mention the month and date. She guessed it was passed Christmas. For all she knew it was mid-January, maybe even February. She had lost all sense of time, not being able to sleep since the last incident with Malfoy. Of course, she had been able to pretend very well when he had come in to check on her several times. Slowly she would open her eyes and yawn sleepily. He would only quickly glance at this and exit the tent once more. Hermione knew he had not slept either, for he never came into the tent to do so, and never once asked her to sit watch.

The days had become unbearably long and the nights even more so. She could hear noises in the trees, wind that sounded like whispering. Hermione was terrified. Not only was she being guarded by someone she no longer trusted, she had no clue where they were. _Outside of Krakow, in Poland,_ she thought to herself. Sadly, this was no help seeing as she knew not a word of Polish, nor which direction the nearby city was from their location. If anything did happen, she would need Malfoy's directing.

Further she had pondered the relationship she had with her, for lack of a better word, _husband._ They had kissed heavily, and, yes, she had enjoyed it. But in her heart she knew she should not have. Hermione loved Ron, she had realized. If she had been able to stay at the Burrow, she would have told him everything. How much she thought of him, and how her stomach and heart both ached when she did so. Missing him was worse than missing her parents, or even Harry. It was something she had never felt.

On the other hand, the thought of having left Malfoy to fend for himself also made her stomach and heart ache. Certain this was just from the marriage ceremony, she shrugged it off. Another thought that troubled the hell out of her was the two ancient spells she had taken part of. The first one almost killed her because Malfoy did not think to protect her from the magic. If there had been more time to explain it, she would have told him to. It was a love spell, though, so she had _assumed_ he would know what to do.

Although, now she realized he probably had never used ancient spells with that emotion. Hermione doubted he could even feel love anymore, not after Pansy. Even _that_ love he spoke of was questionable. To her, it seemed more like an infatuation, or unhealthy addiction to something he could never have.

Every human has the need to be loved, so why would it be different for him? The only human she could think of incapable of love was Lord Voldemort, and Draco Malfoy was no where near that level. Malfoy just did not understand what love meant.

Then again, she would have died during the second spell if it had not been for him. If he had not felt love during that spell, surely she would be dead. So why did she feel like he hated her more than ever before? Moreover, why did she feel like she hated him even more?

It was crazy, everything that was going through her head. Not to mention the fact that they were probably being hunted, even though there had really been no sign of it since the incident at her parent's house. She wondered if the Burrow was safe. If it had been destroyed or attacked, she would not know. Malfoy had made her agree not to contact them for a little while longer, until things had quieted down slightly. For all they knew, things had gotten worse.

Oh, the pain in her stomach from all these thoughts. They were enough to kill a person. The times she had been able to fall asleep she had awoken to terrible nightmares of her parents, Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, all being tortured and killed by Death Eaters. The cold sweat and agonizing dreams had kept her from resting her eyes for two days now.

No longer did Hermione feel safe with Draco Malfoy's guard. His protection was no longer enough. It was all she had, but she knew it would soon falter. It just had to. He was not to be trusted.

More than once she almost came out and asked him if he had been planning all along to backstab her, but knew it would just cause another spat between them, maybe even a deadly one.

---

Draco sat in the pouring rain, a magical umbrella above his head. It did not matter though, he was already soaked. Having gone for a walk inside the perimeter of the spells he had created, his clothes and hair were both drenched, but he did not care anymore.

His chest felt tight; it was as if he had lost Pansy all over again. There was emptiness in him that would not subside.

What he had done several days ago he could not understand. After thinking for hours of his actions he could only come to one conclusion: Granger had been right, he was becoming his worst nightmare, his father.

Since he had discovered his father's true intentions of Granger, every thought he had of his father vanished. No longer was he the hero to Draco; he was the anti-hero, one could say. There was no use pretending he wasn't scared. Lucius scared him on a daily basis since he was about fourteen or so. Always talking about Draco 'carrying on his legacy' and 'making sure the bloodline stayed Pure'. When he was younger he thought his father was a god. Everything he said was fact.

Looking back now, Draco realized all the words his father ever spoke to him were bullshit. There was no legacy to carry on, the Dark Lord had made sure of that. Why his father had not seen it Draco still could not fathom.

Obviously, Lucius' devotion to the Dark Lord was more than just out of respect, it was sick delusion that all his dreams would come true. Every male in the Malfoy family had only one thing to protect: the bloodline. It was to be protected from impurities for all eternity. By killing Pansy, the Dark Lord had destroyed that with false reasoning.

His idea was not to create a super-powerful Witch or Wizard, it was payback, vengeance. Call it what you will, it was pure evil. The Dark Lord had overlooked his own life plan to destroy someone else's. What kind of human gets sick pleasure from that?

Draco sure did not. The last thing he wanted anymore was to hurt Granger, no matter how much she wanted nothing to do with him. And he had lost her to his fucking hormones.

If he had been patient and understanding— wait... was Draco Malfoy actually considering getting Hermione Granger to fall in love with him?

Of course not! It was insanity to even suggest!

Draco Malfoy was not in love with Hermione Granger.

The laws of nature would not permit it. Everything about her he hated. Except those eyes, and that smile, and the way she said 'Draco' in that eloquent, innocent way.

Bloody hell! Was this honestly his train of thought? Thinking of a Mudblood? _Enjoying how she spoke his name?_

It was a scandal that Draco could not escape. He didn't even want to try.

Obviously, he had fallen for her, but to what extent? Occasionally he would still think of Pansy and his heart would lurch into his throat. Sometimes he caught himself reminiscing about what he loved about her so much, and why he missed her. He could not possibly have already started falling for another girl. Especially Hermione Granger.

He _hated_ her. No, he _loathed _her. She was insufferable. The only human that could ever feel for her was that red-headed snob Ron Weasley.

She may be his wife, but he did not have to like her in anyway possibly.

That spell sure did mess with him. A lot.

How could he get out of this?

Draco smirked and stood up as a thought occurred to him.

He needed to remind her what made them rivals at school. Draco was about to make them enemies for life once more.

---

Malfoy flew into the tent looking absolutely livid and stood before Hermione, who sat up quickly. "You filthy whore, why haven't you so much as tried to do the watch for even an hour?" he shouted angrily.

She stood up, confused. "Because you haven't asked me," she said timidly. This had come as a surprise. Hermione had assumed he would ask if he wanted her to sit outside and take guard for him.

"_Because you haven't asked me,_" he mocked shrilly. She was taken aback. "You did not assume I would need sleep?"

"I assumed you would ask—"

"You assumed wrong, you swine," shouted Malfoy. "I saved your life, and the least you could is to let me sleep for eight hours every few days!"

"I'll take watch now," she said, standing up and heading for outside. He grabbed her arm and Hermione could only think that this was it. She had finally made him snap. Her carelessness and pondering would get her killed. Her heart started racing.

"It's too late for that," he said evilly as he pulled her closer to him. "I have it in my mind that I should just turn you in, give you to the Dark Lord and pray for forgiveness. Tell everyone you tricked me into leaving by unfulfilled promises."

She breathed in heavily. "Please let me go, you're hurting me," she said softly. Even her words were betraying her now. How she wanted to scream at him, tell him she knew all along this would happen. She never should have trusted this prat.

"You're so selfish," screamed Malfoy in her ear. "Never have a met someone so self-concerned. First you leave your friends, and now you don't even care about your husband, regardless of the circumstances. You're the biggest coward I've ever met!"

Her eyes started watering. Hermione couldn't help it, every emotion was running through her and she did not know what more she could do. Her life was over, and no one would even care. They would all think it was her fault. She felt her face turning redder and her eyes tearing up heavily. "I didn't want to leave!" she cried. "I did what that tree told me!"

He rolled his eyes and threw her down. "I don't believe that for one second," replied the blonde angrily. "You wanted out from fighting the war and you left that tree there yourself."

"You don't even make sense," she said from the ground, cowering and wiping her eyes. "How could I have known what was going to happen?"

Hermione could feel his rage growing more at her and crawled backwards until she hit the inside of the tent.

"You ruined my life and everything good in it! And now I'll make you pay for it!" He pulled his wand from his robe and pointed it at her. She quickly pulled her own from her pocket. He only laughed. "You don't scare me!"

Still crying, her own body filled with rage. "I should!" she shouted. "You told me before that I did not know the things you had done, well guess what, Draco Malfoy, I've done some terrible magic as well. I know a lot more things than you would ever realize!"

She could see him panting heavily, but his façade was fading, she could tell. There was something more to this.

"Tell me, little Miss Innocence, what you could possibly have done," he inquired, his wand still pointed directly at her.

"Th-that Death Eater that was killed last year when Dumbledore died," she announced. "That was me! I killed him! I only told everyone it was another Death Eaters spell! I used the Killing Curse!"

---

Hermione Granger's word echoed in Draco's mind. She had used the Killing Curse, and lied about it.

He could feel his face drop, and his false anger disappear. He shook his head, for it could not be true. Granger was not capable of those things, she was too good.

"I don't believe you," he said, not hesitating, wand still at the ready. "You would never—"

"I did!" she said surely. "The only person that knows is Ginny; she was standing there when I said it!"

He still could not believe her words.

"That's why I can use ancient magic," she explained loudly, her voice still sounding frightened. "I damaged my soul!"

Draco had not even been able to use the Killing Curse, even when it threatened his life and his families. Of course, it would make sense. It was the missing puzzle piece he had been trying to figure out since they used the first spell. Their souls had been intertwined during that spell because they both had been damaged, not because he had damaged his so much.

For the first time, Draco was speechless. He lowered his wand and closed his eyes.

"Why—"

"He tried to kill Ron," said Granger. "He was in the middle of saying the curse himself, and I beat him to the punch. I just couldn't tell anyone."

Draco sat down on the bed; he needed to think this one through. Little Miss Perfect had done the thing he had feared most to do himself. She had actually outdone him on something. Not that he would be proud to kill someone, but the fact that she had the courage to do so astounded him.

"I never thought you had it in you, Granger," he heard himself say honestly, still shaking his head in disbelief.

She did not move from her own comatose, nor did she stow her wand away.

"I'm done," he said, standing up once more. He really was. Draco needed to think once more. "Go to sleep."

---

**A/N:** Yes, I know, it's been almost another year for a chapter. And I had promised to write last April as much as I possibly could. Well, there you go, Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten is just about done, and when I get a decent amount of Chapter Eleven done, you can have Chapter Ten. Although, this time I cannot make any promises. I've been switching between finishing this, finishing Technically and finishing a one-shot I started last week for Dragon Age: Origins. I know, I know, this should be priority number one, but I need to get back into Dramione mode fully before I can start pumping out three chapters a night again. Be proud that I was able to make this chapter 6,200 words, though. I think it's one of my longest yet.

Regardless, please review (and be sure to complain of my absence, it will just remind me to write), and continue reading. Those of you having followed this since the beginning, I praise you for not having chased me down and tickled me silly, and thank you for your time. I hope this is still to your liking. Those just joining in, I wouldn't be hopeful of an ending any time soon. It takes me a good amount of time to write now, especially since I feel like my writing now is under par, compared to what previous writings were like.

Oh well, I love you all. Please enjoy, review, and criticize.

Love,

LeeLee the Lunatic


	10. Chapter Ten

**Short Recap:**

_Draco had not even been able to use the Killing Curse, even when it threatened his life and his families. Of course, it would make sense. It was the missing puzzle piece he had been trying to figure out since they used the first spell. Their souls had been intertwined during that spell because they both had been damaged, not because he had damaged his so much._

_For the first time, Draco was speechless. He lowered his wand and closed his eyes._

"_Why—"_

"_He tried to kill Ron," said Granger. "He was in the middle of saying the curse himself, and I beat him to the punch. I just couldn't tell anyone."_

_Draco sat down on the bed, he needed to think this one through. Little Miss Perfect had done the thing he had feared most to do himself. She had actually outdone him on something. Not that he would be proud to kill someone, but the fact that she had the courage to do so astounded him._

"_I never thought you had it in you, Granger," he heard himself say honestly, still shaking his head in disbelief._

_She did not move from her own comatose, nor did she stow her wand away._

"_I'm done," he said, standing up once more. He really was. Draco needed to think once more. "Go to sleep."_

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Ten**

_Still no word from Hermione, _thought Ron once more. It was his first thought everyone morning when he woke. Since the day she left, his mind had been filled with nothing less of dread for her safety. How she could possibly trust Draco Malfoy with her life he would never understand. He could protect her, given the chance, a million times better than that pretentious prick.

The thought aggravated him more than anything else. If Malfoy killed her, or hurt her in anyway, how would they know? Ron was certain Malfoy's intentions were far from pure. He could be turning her into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named this very second!

He stood and quietly got dressed. It was nearing Christmas and snow was falling outside quite heavily. Harry had not yet woken up, but this was the routine. Ron got out of bed a good ten minutes before Harry so he was equally awake enough to help. Ron exited the room quietly and headed downstairs to get something to eat.

Since Hermione and Malfoy's departure, the house had been constantly full of tension. The only time throughout the day this stress was lessened was the mornings when Ron and Harry left the house and retreated into the safety of the forest to try and find a way to destroy the cup. After Hermione had taken off, Ginny had found a collection of books Hermione could only have acquired from Dumbledore. Whether this was before or after his death, he had not asked her, for she did not even seem to notice they had been taken from her trunk.

As he made himself some toast and eggs, Ron thought more of the brunette he missed so much. Normally, he would not even bother to make himself food, but today he felt especially hopeful that he and Harry might figure out something. They had been searching through all the books, there was just so many of them to go through. Some were history books about those who had tried to make Horcruxes, most were failures. One of the books even told of how to create them, but so far none spoke of how to destroy one.

Ron had sifted through the pile of large, old books the night before and found one that seemed more interesting than the rest. Not only did it tell of how to make them, but he was sure it said how to destroy them. The only problem was that it had been written in a different language, and he had no idea what it was. Harry had gone to bed by then, but Ron felt Harry would be able to help him decipher it for some reason.

About fifteen minutes later Harry came down yawning. "Let's get going," he said tiredly.

They headed to their normal spot and Harry removed the cup from his pocket and unwrapped it from the cloth he had put it in. "I cannot believe I had not thought of having Hermione look at it," he said to Ron.

He shrugged at Harry. "There was much more going on when she was here," he said. "Not to mention that git was around all the time."

Ron then retrieved the book from his bag and handed it to Harry. "Here you go, mate, I think this time we found the right book."

Harry took the book and opened it. "I didn't know Parseltongue was a written language," said Harry, astounded.

"Blimey, I had a feeling you could read it."

"Let's get to work then."

Hours later the sun was high in the sky and they were still moving through the book.

"Here it is!" said Harry excitedly. Suddenly, his face turned to a frown. "There are several ways, but the only spell needs to be performed by someone who has killed before."

"Don't look at me; I've never even been able to use the Cruciatus Curse correctly."

They both sighed loudly. "I can't believe we found it, and now the only way is if we kill someone."

"What are the other ways it says?"

"Basilisk venom works," answered Harry. "Some cursed dagger from Russia once destroyed one. And cursed fire works as well."

"I bet we could find a way to make cursed fire," said Ron. "It can't be that hard."

"The only problem with that would be putting the fire out. I'm only guessing, but it seems to me it would resemble napalm."

Ron gave him a questioning look.

"It's a Muggle chemical that was used in wars," he explained. "It cannot be put out by water. The fire will only stop when the chemical has completely burned."

"Beats me," said Ron.

Harry stood up, handing Ron the book while at the same time pocketing the cup once more. "I think we've done enough good for one day, maybe tomo—"

Without notice, there was a flash of green light that flew between them. Both immediately pulled out their wands and pointed them in the direction the curse had come from. "Come out, you bloody cowards!" yelled Harry.

"Maybe we should run back to the Burrow and warn—"

Just as he spoke, Ginny came running up the hill. "The Death Eaters found a way in!" she screamed with her wand out. "The house is on fire!"

Before they could move, however, the three of them were surrounding by figures in hooded cloaks. Their masks marked their allegiance to Lord Voldemort.

"Run, Harry!" screamed both Ron and Ginny. With only one glance backwards, Harry weaved between the two closest to him and ran back to the Burrow. The Death Eaters seemed to be everywhere.

He pulled his cloak from his pocket and threw it around himself once he saw no one. Continuing to run, he saw Molly and Arthur both fighting a Death Eater. Pointing his wand at the house, he thought as hard as he could _Aguamenti_. A waterfall shot from his wand and doused the house in one shot. He sprinted around the other side and stunned three Death Eaters from behind. _Ginny!_ He thought before heading as quickly as he could back to the top of the hill.

When he got there, however, there was no one.

xXxXxXxXx

The rain had not ceased nor calmed down since the afternoon. Draco could tell that it was very late at night now, but he had not moved from his spot. Yes, he had finally dried himself off, but only because he started shivering.

Finally he knew what Hermione had done to damage her soul. Of course, he had simply thought she might have used some ancient magic to do so. For example, some mind opening spells you could perform on oneself. Maybe she had used the Cruciatus Curse on someone and meant it, he had originally thought. But no, the good girl, the one of the pair that was 'pure-hearted' had actually killed someone. Murdered them.

It had been out of love, of course, but that spell does not know love. There has to be malicious intent from whoever casts it.

Draco did not know what to think of it, still. On one hand, it made her appeal and mystery increase. Even his respect for her went up, only slight mind you. On the other hand, it unnerved him a tiny bit. Either she was lying, which he doubted, and covering up something smaller, or she was telling the complete truth, which meant she had killed before and could therefore kill once more. The first time, he heard, had always been the hardest.

He was skeptic, though. If she truly had covered up killing that Death Eater, it meant she was afraid of anyone knowing she would do that. Furthermore, she really was the pure-hearted of the two. Her intentions had never been to wrong anyone. All the things he had screamed to her were only _meant_ to hurt her. That did not mean he truly _believed_ them.

Draco had been trying to _prove a point_, not make her cower in fear of her life. She admitted one of her deepest secrets, probably thinking he was going to kill her anyway. Hermione had tried to intimidate _him_.

He smirked at this thought and laughed out loud to himself. The best part, it had _worked_. For a mere second he had considered that she was going to be the end of him, right then and there. Surely, however, she was thinking the same of him.

The hilarity of the situation was that neither had the guts to do it. Even if it had meant their own life.

Draco knew for a fact he could never physically hurt her again. Throwing her to the floor had made his mind scream at him. Had he not been so determined with his plan, he would have stopped right there, helped her up, and ravaged her right on that bed.

_Oh bloody Merlin! What is wrong with me?_ He thought.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Hermione had not moved from her position. She could tell it had been a long while, but it did not matter. Her heart was _still_ pounding in her chest and her breathing still rapid. Malfoy had been shocked by her confession, it seemed. Still, it did not mean he was not going to hand her over as a gift for Lord Voldemort. Maybe he was just laughing about it, not believing her attempt at scaring him.

Never would she have actually killed him, but it held him off for now, at least.

Part of her mind was screaming for her to run, the other to talk it out with him. He might actually listen.

But before she could choose, he had re-entered the tent, a much calmer look in his eyes. She caught the glimmer of brown and couldn't help but blush faintly.

He stood there for a second before slowly approaching her. "Don't worry, I'm done threatening you," he told her as he kneeled in front of her. "I'm sorry," said Draco after a moment of silence.

Hermione had hid her hand underneath her robe, grasping her wand, but released it quickly. For the second time that day, the brunette was in shock. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it after gaping at him for a second.

"I do understand if it means nothing to you," he said, taking her hand into his own gently. "Sometimes I just lose sense of myself and do become my father. The last thing I want to be in this life is reminiscent of my father."

She looked into his eyes and saw the brown and grey sparkling brightly at her. Hermione could not help but take his words as sincere, no matter how much her mind screamed at her, for her heart spoke of something more unadulterated, more honest.

Suddenly, right before her eyes, a wall that Draco Malfoy had built so long ago had fallen. His usually cold grey eyes softened. He talked of his childhood. "My father beat my mother for years," he admitted to her. "That day I hurt you, threatened to kill you, I scared myself. I'm not surprised what you did hours later. You have a power my mother would never have had. It was okay for my father to do that, she was supposed to provide him with children. He destroyed her, and even though this is not a marriage made through love, I do... feel _something_ for you. Something I will never be able to explain. Even if you are a Mudblood, it doesn't matter to me anymore. I will not become my father."

She bit her bottom lip. It was unbelievable that this man before her, who she had watched grow from an ignorant child, being genuine with her. His actions moved her and once again her eyes watered.

He seemed to panic. "Don't cry," he rushed. "Please."

She laughed and smiled. "I cannot trust you," she told him. "You are insane!"

Malfoy released her hand and sat down cross-legged in front of her. The wall was back in an instant; his eyes were cold once again. "How so?"

Her eyes widened. "You stormed in here only hours ago saying you were going to turn me into Voldemort! And now you are pretty much admitting you love me!"

"I don't love you!"

Hermione's lips pursed as she shook her head incredulously. "Ginny was right," she said quietly. "You really are insane."

"Stop saying that," insisted Malfoy. "I am not insane!"

"In the Muggle-world we would call you bipolar."

"Well in this world, the things I said to you were not true at all," he confessed, his voice laced with irritation. "I never had any intention of bringing you back to those people! I just wanted you to be scared."

"It bloody worked!"

"That was the point! I didn't expect you to threaten me back. I wanted you to stop tempting me!"

"Excuse me? I have done nothing of the sort! You are the one who watches me sleep."

He rolled his eyes. "You've been having nightmares, and your cries were more annoying than a baby wailing for his mother."

"Unless you admit you love me, Malfoy," she started, fuming for no real reason other than the fact that her heart was pounding. "I will leave you and go back to my family or return to the Burrow. I would be safer there."

"They would find you."

"Why do you care?"

"We are in this together!"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "But why does that mean so much to you? Why does heartless, bitter, callous Draco sodding Malfoy care if I stick with him through this mess he created?"

His eyes flared beautifully and he threw his hands in the air, admitting defeat. The wall had fallen once more. "Because I love you! There you go, I said it! Are you happy now?"

She laughed. Yes, the girl laughed. The man before her just admitted he loved her, and her response was to laugh in his face.

Draco glared. "What is so funny? That is not the response I wanted."

"I don't love you!" she told him, shaking her head.

His face fell into a frown. "Why not?" asked Draco childishly.

"You kidnapped me, forced me into marriage, and not to mention into hiding from the world," she answered. "I could be helping Harry, which would get us out of this mess a hell of a lot faster. This is a bunch of bullocks."

"You really are insufferable!"

"Apparently not, you just told me you love me."

"Well, I take it back."

"You can't just take it back."

"In fact, I can do what ever the bloody hell I want, I'm Draco sodding Malfoy."

Yet again, Hermione smiled. "That doesn't mean shit anymore, in case you haven't noticed. You married _me_!"

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

That smile did it and he just could not take it anymore. This girl was messing with his head! So he did all he could think of doing, he leaned forward and-

BANG.

They both jumped up, grabbing their wands from their pockets and jumping up. Draco pulled back the tent flap and glanced outside. It had been dark out when he had returned to the tent, but now the night sky was lit up with a line of fire surrounding their line of protection. "Stay inside," he ordered her before rushing out of the tent to determine the cause of the flames.

There was no one in sight, as he glanced around, but he knew it would no longer be safe to remain here. Someone had found them. Whether it is his parents or the Dark Lord, he felt it was best to decipher this at a later time.

"We need to leave," he shouted into the tent and Hermione rushed out. With one flick of her wand their tent was in her pocket and they had locked hands to Apparate.

While they spun, Draco briefly saw a bewildered expression upon his father's face.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Before selecting his final destination, Draco made sure to Apparate more than once. First London, then Dublin, somewhere in Egypt, back to London, Paris, Athens, Jerusalem, Egypt once more, and finally, the last place he could think of hiding safely.

The sky was darker here than it had been in Poland. The air was thicker, and the city around them was still alive. So much so that no one had even noticed the two of them appear out of thin air in the middle of a busy intersection. In no way would anyone be able to find them here. At least, not discreetly.

Grabbing Hermione's hand he tugged her along. He could see on her face that she was still in shock. He was certain she had never rapidly Apparated in her life. The first time always jumbles you for a while. Draco was used to it, having run away from home many times since he had learned to Apparate. It always had taken them days to find him when he had used this method. Going all over the hemisphere as he saw fit, making a few returns just to confuse whoever might follow, and finally making a stop far from any other destination. It truly was a useful trick during times like these.

This time, however, he had added more than before, when he was merely trying to get away from home until things had cooled down. They had no need or wanting to be found. It would give them time to plan.

"Where are we?" asked Hermione when she finally regained her energy. Draco continued to lead her along through the mess of people, intertwining their fingers to keep a better hold on her.

"Singapore," he answered simply, tugging her along.

"Oh," was all she said, falling into step next to him.

They walked several more blocks, weaving through crowds before crossing a four lane street and ending up, somehow, in what could be considered a park. It seemed quieter here. Just past the gate, sitting on a bench, they could barely hear the cars zooming by.

"Where do we go from here, Granger?"

"It's 'Malfoy' now, remember?"

"Stop reminding me," he retorted, the corners of his lips tugging upward slightly.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Two days later, they had not touched, not even accidentally. Both were making sure to stay as far away from the other as possible.

One day, they deplored each other; the next Draco was admitting his love. It was not acceptable for them to even so much as hold hands or hug. Without touching, the world was right again once more.

Those spells really screwed with Draco. How could he, so proud of his bloodline, fall for _her_? He was certain the probability of falling for Hermione Granger was three hundred twenty five thousand six hundred and eighty seven to one. His math was usually right on these things.

Still, the look in Hermione's eyes when the ancient healing spell awoke her seared his brain with content, even acceptance. If it was wrong to wish this, he did not care, but at that moment he had considered she could be the one to save him. Hermione Granger would fix what no woman ever could.

This was all rubbish, of course. Draco Malfoy a _decent_ man? He had proved that notion wrong on many occasions within only the last few months. He was far from noble or courageous. The only thing he knew in his heart was a decent thought was this: he had to protect Hermione from harm at all costs. Love or not, he owed it to her, having gotten her in the middle of this catastrophe in the first place.

With what little money he had, and the previous knowledge of the Wizarding community outside of England, he was able to find a place almost exactly like Diagon Alley. The form of currency was different, but the exchange rate was not bad, and prices were rather cheap.

"We cannot stay here for long," said Hermione once they had found a Leaky Cauldron-like place to spend the night. She was currently sitting on the edge of the worn bed, hands folded in her lap. "I'm sure they'll find us if we stay within a Wizarding community. Voldemort has followers all over the world, I'm sure."

No longer did Draco cringe outwardly at the Dark Lord's name. While his insides seemed to melt slightly, he had developed an uncanny ability to, in his own way, censor her words.

In his head, he replaced "Voldemort" with "evil snake man" before replying. He was sitting across from her in a rather uncomfortable hard-backed wooden chair. "Where do you suggest we go, then? We've already gone everywhere I have knowledge of. Well, not everywhere, but anywhere else I know they would easily find us."

She shrugged. "I know a couple of places, actually," she admitted, standing but only to cross the small room and sitt down on the slightly ragged couch. The room was not bad. Only one bed, but it would beat living in a tent. Draco already decided to give her the bed. If they happened to stay another night, they could always switch. "So next time we Apparate, I'll pick."

He made a face while he thought. "Remember, Granger," he started. "We cannot just Apparate directly from here to there. What I did before, you have to do for security reasons."

Hermione sighed. "I know," she said, lying down on the couch, her head resting on a rather nasty looking pillow. She stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. "I wonder if world leaders have to go through this much trouble to avoid assassination."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Where the bloody hell are we?" asked an infuriated Draco Malfoy. They had just Apparated from Singapore to Quebec City, Quebec, Canada; Juno, Alaska, U.S.A; somewhere in Siberia; back to Quebec City, then Morocco; Argentina; France, back to Somewhere, Siberia, and now... well, wherever Hermione had brought them.

She laughed and lit her wand. "We're in a warehouse," she stated before enlarging their tent.

Draco lit his own wand and held it to the ground. "There is water on the ground," he informed her, very matter of factly. "I could have taken you to the beach if you wanted water. Or a lake. Well, maybe a pond. Wouldn't want you to drown."

"First of all, there are holes in the roof, seeing as it is a defunct building now," she told him as she walked around the perimeter of the rather large room they stood in. "So it is going to be wet. Second, you're a wizard, just dry it. And third, I'm sure my swimming abilities are far better than yours, having spent half my summer holidays in water, thank you very much."

Glaring, he used his wand to dry the room and place a shield above their heads. "Let's stay in Singapore, I said," mumbled Draco as he went about their usual warding and spellwork. "But no, you insisted that you knew a safe place. We _were _safe, and, I should mention, dry. That obviously was too good for you, dragging me to an abandoned warehouse in the Muggle world to really experience the hobo lifestyle."

Within an instant, Hermione's hands were at what was quickly becoming the most normal state: on her hips. "Excuse me, I did _not_ drag you anywhere, you foolhardy narcissus."

"You call me stupid and insult my mother's name in the same sentence," said Draco, nodding his head approvingly. "Keep talking like that and I may just have to kiss you, darling."

The anger immediately turned to fumbling, a noticeable blush spreading over her face and her wand slipped out of her hands. "You're not allowed to," she said, bending down to retrieve it. Draco took several quick steps toward her, and by the time she had stood back up, he was directly in front of her.

"You should know by now, Granger," he started, holding her chin in hand. "That I, Draco Malfoy, am allowed to do whatever I damn please."

The kiss was brief, but gave Hermione more shivers than any kiss before. She was certain the same happened to Draco as well, for he seemed startled when their lips parted.

"And of course, I just love breaking rules," said Draco, smirking as he turned away and headed for the tent. "But I'll let you mull it over in your mind which took over: the mischief maker, or the romantic? The world may never know."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Where did they go?" crowed the man beneath the mask. Ron squirmed in his seat; the rope was exceedingly tight.

"I don't know, you bloody idiot," he said. This is what his life had been for the past three hours, them asking the same silly question over and over again. "If I knew, I would gladly tell you so you can take that little rat Draco Malfoy and squish him like a roach."

SLAP. He knew it was going to happen. Seventh time so far, four different people. This man would probably hit him one more time.

"I'm getting really sick of being slapped," he told the Death Eater. "Why don't you get some mind reading master in here? I'm sure he'll tell you exactly what I've been telling you, I don't know where they sodding are, you brainless bloody bigot."

The man turned and left the room, making sure to slam the door louder than a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. Ron sighed and wondered where they had taken his sister. If they harmed her in any way at all, they would pay, and Ron would make damn sure of it. Surprisingly, the situation was not bothering Ron all that much. Even when he had woken up in a dungeon, chains and all, he had not panicked. A part of Ron already knew somehow that he and his sister had not been taken hostage to lure Harry in or even tortured for information. Although, why they were not being questioned on _Harry_ bothered him.

Repeatedly, they had asked where Hermione and Malfoy were. The only information wanted was any idea or clue to the whereabouts of the newlyweds.

Ron cringed. They were _married_. Bloody hell, the girl he loved for seven years was _married_. His mind had not been able to wrap around that fact until this very second. Whoever had taken him and his sister were not just looking for Hermione, or just Draco, they needed BOTH, the two that were now connected magically.

The bond he knew for a fact could never be broken fully. His head went limp as his eyes blurred.

Once more the door flew open. Two death eaters walked in, one unmasked.

"No bloody way—"

Ron's mind was suddenly flooded with pain as his memories went by top speed. His body went limp a few seconds later.

"The blood-traitor was not lying," drawled the man named Severus Snape. He turned to look at his companion. "There is no trace or mention of a location. They left without leaving any sign."

Lucius Malfoy hastily appeared in the doorway. "Send these two back," he ordered. "We do not need them anymore."

"When did you become the eavesdropper? I thought that was Wormtail's job?"

Malfoy shook his head, confused. The unnamed, masked Death Eater quickly stunned and unbound Ron, levitating him out of the room. "I found my own trace," he told Snape. They left the room together, heading down a long stretch of hallway. "They were in Poland."

"So you have them?"

"No, I almost did but... I became diverted," he explained, stopping and looking around to make sure no one was around. "They were, well, they seemed..."

"Romantically involved?" Snape offered.

Lucius took a deep breath. "Yes," he admitted. "My son enjoying the company of that Mudblood, Severus, makes me feel—"

"Betrayed?"

Lucius glanced around once more before nodding briefly.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

_Release them, and you'll be the main course for Nagini's next meal._

The message had startled Snape at first; the Dark Lord never was one for common courtesy or subtlety. He had not planned on releasing the two just yet, anyway, he was having too much fun. Besides that, Lucius had no right to order him around. It was Lucius at the bottom of the call list, not Snape.

Returning to the room containing both Weasley's, and another of his old students, he glanced over each shoulder casually as he opened the door and sealed it behind himself.

The siblings had been shocked to see their friend Luna Lovegood in the same cell, chained to the wall. It had taken them about an hour to notice due to the dim lighting, but when they did, the anger and fury had flared up further. The blondes torn clothes only hiding her most intimate parts; her ribs were protruding in such a grotesque fashion, the only reason they had known she was living was the shallow breaths they could see. Ginny had immediately rushed to her side, trying to wake the girl from her coma. She briefly lifted her head, saying, in a way purely Luna-like, "Don't worry, Ginevra, Ronald, though the nargles have infested my mind, I am successfully learning to control them," before her head lolled downward once more and she went out cold.

"Murderer!" screamed the male Weasley, glancing worriedly at Luna. Snape had grown to find him rather comical over the years. A complete nuisance, but entertaining nonetheless. Ginny wearily left Luna's side and went to stand by her older brother.

They both stood, blocked from his reach by enchanted bars. Their clothes were torn, dirt covered both of their faces, and any other exposed skin. Ginny's hair was matted in the back, where a Death Eater had seemingly grabbed her to take her.

"Yes, yes, Ronald," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "I killed dear Dumbledore. Can we move onto something new?" He pulled out a large brown package from his pocket.

The redheads glanced at each other quickly. "What—"

"I have a special delivery for Harry James Potter," he explained, tossing the package through the wards, causing it to flicker momentarily. It landed in front of the siblings.

"You blimey coward," bellowed an enraged Ron. "You think we'll bring Harry, our FRIEND, a package from you? The person who caused his parents to be killed? The same person who killed Professor Dumbledore?" He crossed his arms and moved the sit against the wall before stating simply, "Piss off."

Ginny looked at the package, at Ron, Luna and then back at Snape. "I'll deliver it," she spoke. Ron gasped in disbelief. "On the condition that we are freed. Including Luna."

For the first time, they witnessed Snape do more than glare. While it was only a mere smirk, it was at least something new. Almost _hopeful_. "I was hoping you would be the diplomat in this situation."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

**Author's Note:** EDIT: *Yes, I did remove and repost a new version of this chapter. Two more chapters and an epilogue await after this. In total, there will be 13. I changed some minor details in this, for continuity purposes due to changes in the story that start next chapter. I'm and currently in process of finishing this story. *

First of all, big apologies to my readers. Life just has a way of turning on you, and I got caught in the middle of a fierce storm. So, that brings me to my second thing: there is a big difference where I left this story and where I picked it back up again. I am human, and therefore I change. Hopefully, it is for the best where this story is involved. I have been reading lots of fan fiction by some amazing writers that I forgot about and new ones that make me have hope for any future in fan fiction. There is more symbolism, and I tried to lessen the transition between the old and new. Consider it a rebirth.

However, I have reached a decision. I simply do not have the same mindset to bring this story to its full intended peak. I will wrap up most loose ends, and I know I will continue this story later on with short ficlets, but I feel it a dishonor to make my readers believe that I am writing on a regular schedule. I'm hoping you all like where this ends, though. I sure as hell loved writing it. There will be two more chapters, and a short epilogue to tide you over until the one-shots start coming out. Regardless, thank you for the past... six years? It's been quite a long time...

Love Always,

LeeLee the Lunatic

P.S. Chapter Eleven will be out very soon, I promise.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note:** After over 60,000 words, finally there is some lemons. Be happy, and kind, as this is my first attempt at smut.

WARNING: there is explicit content in this chapter. If you don't like things like that, don't read. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Harry Potter. Sadly. I could use the money

**Short Recap:**

"_Murderer!" screamed the male Weasley, glancing worriedly at Luna. Snape had grown to find him rather comical over the years. A complete nuisance, but entertaining nonetheless. Ginny wearily left Luna's side and went to stand by her older brother._

_They both stood, blocked from his reach by enchanted bars. Their clothes were torn, dirt covered both of their faces and any other exposed skin. Ginny's hair was matted in the back, where a Death Eater had seemingly grabbed her to take her._

"_Yes, yes, Ronald," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "I killed dear Dumbledore. Can we move onto something new?" He pulled out a large brown package from his pocket._

_The redheads glanced at each other quickly. "What—"_

"_I have a special delivery for Harry James Potter," he explained_, _tossing the package through the wards, causing it to flicker momentarily. It landed in front of the siblings._

"_You blimey coward," bellowed an enraged Ron. "You think we'll bring Harry, our FRIEND, a package from you? The person who caused his parents to be killed? The same person who killed Professor Dumbledore?" He crossed his arms and moved the sit against the wall before stating simply, "Piss off."_

_Ginny looked at the package, at Ron, Luna and then back at Snape. "I'll deliver it," she spoke. Ron gasped in disbelief. "On the condition that we are freed. Including Luna."_

_For the first time, they witnessed Snape do more than glare. While it was only a mere smirk, it was at least something new. Almost _hopeful_. "I was hoping you would be the diplomat in this situation."_

**Buried Myself Alive**

**Chapter Eleven**

Due to the rain, the newlyweds decided it was time to relocate to a warmer, _dryer_ scene. It did not take much to compromise, the two had barely been out in the sun for what seemed a very long time. All the dampness surrounding them, combined with their current situation, had become almost overwhelmingly depressing. Having been trapped in Malfoy Manor for so long, the two of them ached to, in a way, stretch their legs.

That, and Draco had a sudden compulsion to make an effort to help her achieve happiness. He was certain it was just to stop her complaining.

It was not that he was blatantly ignoring the truth in front of his very eyes. Quite the opposite, actually. Something had changed that night. Certain masks and walls they had both carefully constructed started to tumble. True, neither had realized their existence before then. It was a far cry from the Draco Malfoy who had naively thought that a truce with the witch was the only logical way to save his own arse.

Sighing, Draco ran a hand through his hair. What the bloody hell happened to Draco _Malfoy_?

xXxXxXxXxXx

Their destination today was an island several thousand miles from all their problems. Jamaica. Yes, a Caribbean isle with a large Wizarding population, but one far out of the loop with England's. Most of the witches and wizards in the Caribbean had long come to accept a more Muggle way of life, and were very tolerant of it. Hermione had been their once when she was younger, and was shocked to find that Draco had as well. In fact, they had been there the very same year, within the same week, actually.

The coincidence made them both laugh quickly, before Hermione caught herself and let her face fall emotionless.

As Draco proceeded to ask some locals for directions to the nearest hotel, Hermione clutched their travel bag and sat on a graffiti covered bench, watching from afar. After several suggestions from a dark-skinned, thin framed man wearing brightly colored robes, she saw his face light up. Upon seeing this excitement, she groaned. Anything he would find appealing would surely be very unpleasant for her.

Before his attack on her character, before Draco Malfoy had broken her spirit, things had seemed far simpler. Routine, almost. They hated each other; it was the only stability she felt in a world of uncertainty. After the night he had taken down her walls while showing his own, Hermione felt herself traveling through a maze of corridors.

Draco sodding Malfoy had become her rock of stability, of all the bullocks in the world. Worst of all, she knew, now, that it was mutual. Now that it had been acknowledged, she was unsure if it could be taken back. Hermione Granger knew she was fighting a losing battle, attempting to rebuild those walls on such rocky foundation. But she would sure as hell try.

He thanked the man before returning to her and she stood. "So?" she asked simply, pulling the young woman from her trance and returning the, now existent, façade of calm.

Draco pointed down a street behind her. "At the end of this street, there is a resort which is run by Wizards. They accommodate our kind very well, and we can remain anonymous if we please," he smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. "I told him we had eloped and our families were out for our throats."

She laughed at this, but only let it go on for a moment. Damn, where had those walls gone? When had they been erected in the first place?

As if it were a normal thing to do, he hooked her arm with hers and extended his free hand, and she let herself give into the protection that one movement offered. Hermione gave into traveling this maze. "I'll carry that," he suggested, motioning towards the bag that was becoming rather heavy with time.

Hermione passed it to him after only a millisecond of hesitation and he swung it over his shoulder. Her heart was fluttering rather violently by this point.

They had spent a much longer amount of time in the warehouse than they had anywhere else. In that time, they had more conversations than the entire seven years of knowing one another had encompassed. They had casual conversations regarding life, philosophical debates, each finding that they could teach each other so much information. Hermione held such an array of knowledge; theory, science, Muggle history and so much more that Draco had never been able to fully grasp until her explanation. She was an amazing teacher. Draco, on the other hand, was very helpful in teaching her the lesser known things of Pureblood society, how ingrained the Dark Arts were in the Malfoy line, Wizarding legends she had never heard of, and some very helpful healing and protection charms that she would never find in a book.

Though, their intimate encounters had been brief and reserved. There were moments they found themselves very tired but neither willing to go to bed first. The mornings after Hermione would always wake in her bed, unable to recall how she had gotten there, but certain that the other half of the bed was warmer than natural. Draco would already be up and making breakfast on their makeshift campfires, seeming more cheerful than normal. There had even been a couple hugs and chaste kisses after a particularly enthralling discussion.

Hermione felt her emotions growing for the blonde. Yes, she had... dare she say it?

_Feelings_.

Hermione Granger was human, so the self realization of being emotionally aware was not a foreign subject. These feelings, however, were different.

As they walked down the street, Draco smiling and nodding at each person they passed, her mind was roaring with thoughts, which seemed to be bouncing around sadistically.

Though she dearly missed her friends, Ron included, her feelings for the redhead she had spent the last six years falling for had decreased greatly. In fact, she realized, seeing him at the Burrow had not excited her like she had previously thought it should have. There had been no real butterflies when they embraced, nor when they sat near each other. The tingle she had felt when their hands brushed passing bowls throughout dinner were gone.

Now, those feelings were coming back. But now, oh dear _Merlin_...

Draco Malfoy was human, too. In the way Hermione bled, he did also; the way his heart could be broken was just as real as her own pain of loss; he was merely human, and Draco sodding Malfoy had let his walls tumble down because of Hermione Granger, giving her a brief glance into his own private battle with the emotional part of living. And he, like her, was sorely losing.

Hermione must have been making a face, because a second later Draco spoke. "Is there something wrong, Granger?" he asked, slowing their pace and giving her a concerned look.

"Erm," she answered, eloquently. Concern was something your friends should feel for you.

Something your husband should express. Not Draco... _Draco sodding Malfoy, _she mentally berated.

Then again, she reminded herself, Draco was _her_ husband. Draco was her _friend_.

_Draco sodding Abraxus sodding Malfoy._

"You are so articulate, love," he responded with a smirk.

Damn, there went those betraying butterflies again. Why did he choose to start calling her that?

"Thanks?" she offered before blushing profusely and mentally berating herself for not controlling her facial expressions better, all the while still trying not to lose a battle of wits against her own mind.

He pulled her to a stop, and her heart gave away her nerves, beating so loudly that it was certain to be heard from space. "What is it? Do you have a bad feeling? Personally, I would like to know. Women possess a better intuition then men on such things."

When did _Draco_ _Malfoy_ become less of a Malfoy and grow into his own? When had he become _Draco_?

xXxXxXx

Draco Malfoy was not supposed to be the one to make Hermione Granger's face flush. He was not the one who was supposed to feel _strange_ when their skin connected.

He just simply was not supposed to feel anything emotionally for the Muggle-born. Draco Malfoy was not supposed to be attracted to her in _this _way. It had not just started with a kiss, like so many other clichéd romance stories, but with the simple way she held herself. How loyal and strong she had remained through their whole ordeal. The mannerisms she had; how she twirled an unmanageable curl when lost in thought or reading a book, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, when she was in a full fit of rage and her body emitted pure, raw magic that could be tasted.

During their time as hobos in that awful warehouse, the first time she had fallen asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, he could not help but gently pick her up and carry her to bed, carefully placing her down and covering her. He stood there for a few minutes, staring down at his young wife. Her hair was fanned out around her, lips slightly parted and a look of pure contentment upon her face. Hermione Granger was absolutely stunning and without further thought Draco was removing his shoes and cloak. He cautiously climbed over her and got beneath the covers next to her, lying on his side and peering at the beauty before him. Sleep had found him soon after. His dreams had been filled with honey colored eyes and brown curls.

Awaking just before dawn, he found himself still on his side, Hermione pressed against his front and his arm draped over her petite form. Draco sat up quietly to stare at their laced hands, his large one covering her diminutive one. Sighing, he rose, making every effort not to wake Hermione.

The following nights had gone in a similar fashion. He would spend the night with her in his arms, waking before her and making sure she was none the wiser. He was not sure how she would react, especially after his previous announcement during their last night in Poland. Draco had been attempting to mask and squelch any urges he felt to be close to her during the days and reduce the physical contact unless absolutely necessary.

But as she stumbled with her words, after his mention of the out-of-place look upon her face, his mouth spoke for him. It had been doing that frequently, as of late. It had been more than a couple dozen times that he had referred to her as 'love'.

Never had he felt like this, not even with Pansy. That love had been simple. She had loved him and he had been attracted to her. Steadily, his feelings grew and his concern for her was greater than he had ever experienced.

This, however, was such an uncertain state of affairs for the odd pair. He could see Hermione's confusion when their fingers brushed as they passed things from one to the other. From the look on her face, she felt the same... _spark_. Yes, that is what it had become.

What bothered him to no end was the reality of it all, along with his barely controlled actions. More than once he had to pull himself out of a kiss, for fear of it ending up any further.

Draco Malfoy was not inexperienced in the ways of woman, this was true. He was not too shy to go further. But Pansy had been one of only three women to share a bed with him. There had been the occasional hook up, girls looking to please him and he would return the favor, but only three had gone the full length. As matter of fact, those three had been just as committed to him as he had been to them.

Now, he was walking arm in arm with his wife, whom he had yet to even touch below the collar. And, oh _Merlin,_ how he wanted so badly to trace the lines of her curves, that had been hidden from the world, with his fingertips. To embrace her tightly as they fell to sleep _together_ and nuzzle his cheek into her neck; to feel the pulse point in her throat thumping strongly beneath his mouth as his teeth left marks for her to attempt at concealing in the morning...

_Bloody Hell_.

He shook the thoughts from his head, but remained worried by Hermione's actions and stopped their movement, turning her to face him, keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Please, Hermione, just tell me your thoughts."

She only stared back, her mind obviously reeling. If someone had told him that, one day, he would make Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire, speechless, he would have laughed manically. But now, he found his own face etched with concern, his brow furrowed as he absentmindedly bit the inside of his cheek and waited for a response.

When none came, his shoulders dropped in defeat and he continued. "I've said this before and I will repeat it until you understand: we are in this together. I am all you have, and you are all I have, at this point in our lives. We are married, and the bond we agreed to create has many ways of showing that things are not well in that head of yours," he rolled his eyes and let himself smirk, but only slightly, as he continued, "Not to mention, you have always been terrible at hiding those emotions of yours. So tell me, I'm sure my tiny brain can handle it."

"I—well... What I mean to say is..." she closed her eyes and groaned. "Did you just call me 'Hermione'?"

"It is your name," he replied.

She sighed loudly, roughly pulling away from his grasp and continuing forward without a glance backwards. Just as quickly, he caught up and was in pace with her; just about walking sideways to prove that this conversation was not over yet, dodging several other people. "I just want to make sure you are okay after all the shite that happened."

Giving in, Hermione stopped and turned to look at him. Her eyes bore into his, the brown and grey mixed beautifully. Without a word, she took a hesitant step forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling his head downward. In the instant before their lips met with a fiery passion, Draco wanted to know how things got to this point. How had Hermione become... well, _Hermione_. When had not only his mind, but mouth, betray him into giving her a name. _Granger_ had always been his way of showing indifference.

The sky seemed to thunder and fall around them. Her lips were so soft, yet forceful and pleading, against his own. As the kiss deepened, what was left around them of reality slowly melted away. His arms were now around her small frame, pulling her closer and when she let her mouth open he took his chances and let his tongue slip in. All their cares had been left ten feet back.

Suddenly, she pulled her face from his and he responded with a groan. The pair stood, still embracing, foreheads resting upon each other as they breathed deep, panting breaths. He let his eyes flutter open and saw Hermione's eye flare. Except, this time it was not with rage, or hatred, or even full annoyance. The amber orbs, tainted with grey, had darkened to a chocolate; pupils wider than he thought possible. They were full of desire; arousal.

They regained their breath after a few more seconds, but neither attempted to break the moment by moving. She nervously chewed her top lip, which was already swollen and pink.

"My, my, Mrs. Malfoy, I do belie—" he started, but Hermione covered his lips with her index finger, her touch sending a wave of lightning through his body. _Misses Hermione Mal—_

"Please, keep the comment in between those pale ears of yours," she told him, her eyes pleading with his. Her look only furthered a need he had not realized existed until then. He nodded and removed her hand and took it within his, gently bringing the smooth knuckles to his lips. The realizations Hermione made him feel kept his mind reeling.

"As you wish, love," he replied indifferently, letting her hand remain in his an instant longer. He then added, just loud enough for Hermione to hear, "Just because you're dark enough to be from the Mediterranean, doesn't mean I'm pale." The mask would not fall. Not today.

The corners of her lips curved upward, and he couldn't help but notice her eyes had not narrowed in the slightest bit. Maybe the small things, the hope and the trust, would bring a true possibility for the future. Maybe _Hermione_ would bring the future that _Malfoy_ never could have.

Maybe, just maybe, _Draco _had his future right before his very eyes.

xXxXxXx

The 'room' they had been given to share was not much larger than an average size flat in London, but, to Hermione, it was the largest hotel room she had ever stayed in. Truthfully, she had watched the Travel Channel on more than one occasion and saw resorts with similar accommodations. However, this was a _magical _resort; the paintings moved, the books strewn about by the designer always righted themselves when put down, the beds were made by the time she stood, stretched her whole body, and turned back around.

Everything was just so... Perfect.

Not that she minded perfection. It had become her vision of life from the moment she had came into true awareness as a child. But, upon further thought, the bathroom light turning on automatically when she entered during the night caused instant headaches. The joy was taken out of coffee, for it was always ready upon her arrival in the kitchen, with no regard to the earliness of her rising in the mornings. She was fighting a losing battle with automated magic, and it was bothering the piss out of her.

"This is worse than technology in the Muggle world," she voiced a few days into their stay, frustrated and trying to dirty the place with all her might. She gathered all the books at once and stuffed them in her bag, but before she could snap it shut, they all flew outwards and back to their respectable spaces. Hermione groaned. "I hate technology in the Muggle world, and I hate the proof of laziness in this one as well. Automated beds, automated lights, automated coffee. Your lot sure knows how to take the effort out of everything, don't they?"

Draco had been skimming through a local newspaper and didn't even look at her to respond. "You get used to it," he drawled unenthusiastically.

Call it hormones, or simply being female, but Hermione had enough. She stood up and with a burst of energy swung her leg upward, hitting the underside of the coffee table standing between the two. The strength of her kick sent it flying across the room. Dust was all that hit the ground.

Slowly, Draco put down his paper, one eyebrow raised and his lips fighting an amused smirk. His entertainment for the night was standing right in front of him. The air was suddenly filled with a scent he had experienced once before, of ozone and static; it thickened and the windows in his view had fogged with the rapid change in atmosphere. Draco smirked to himself, remembering the last time. It was odd to have experienced something from her which he knew to be privy from even her two closest friends. Hermione had never mentioned it, but Draco had finally realized it was under stress that she had started letting her emotions control her actions. Or rather, her magic. It was raw and untamed.

As if it, too, were electrically charged, Hermione's mop of brown hair rose around her face, the ringlets seemingly suspended midair. Her fists were balls by her side, and her face was rapidly turning a deep shade of red, eyes closed. Without much thought, Draco stood from his chair and crossed the few feet that separated them. One arm slipped around her waist, while the other gently tilted her chin upward. The world stopped as her eyes opened, the flush from her face dissipated and her tainted eyes looked into his. He felt his own magic respond to hers, and the room became seemingly hit with a whirlwind, all objects around them were lifted into the air, pages from books torn out and spinning around them. Both were untouched.

Their lips met with a chaotic crash, thunder booming all around them, the lights flickering violently as her mouth opened and invited his to play. Hermione's hands were suddenly on the back of his neck, while his slipped behind her ear and played with her wild tresses, pulling her closer. Her head tilted to allow him further access.

Draco's mind could no longer function properly, all sensibility gone. The self control he had contained rather well swiftly faded. No longer could he fight the ever growing desire his body made rather obvious. It had only taken three days, two hours and seven minutes for Draco to force her from underneath his skin, just before caving once more.

There had been no signs. No warnings that his life had suddenly taken a turn for the... worse? Or for the better?

Hell, he didn't want to analyze this any further. Draco did not want to contemplate all the reasons that Hermione actually made sense. Their worlds collided violently; as with all violence, at least that he had seen, there was always a sign. There were consequences that led to violence, and consequences from the aftermath.

All that he really wanted to think about was being here, with Hermione, and letting himself take in the full potential of their current situation. The reality, if you will, that came with what they were doing and letting themselves become to one another.

In all honesty, it was far too rushed but neither Hermione nor Draco would be admitting that fact in the near future. Things were still new; wounds still raw and packed with salt. With each other, they stood the chance of healing.

xXxXxXxXx

Thousands of miles across the Atlantic, Harry James Potter was also wondering how things had happened so suddenly. What had become of everyone he ever loved?

Taken.

Every last one was taken from him just as he fully started to let them in. For eleven years he had built up barriers, and the almost seven years of more recent times he had let those familiar lines blur and his walls started falling down. The burden on his shoulders had lessened.

As soon as someone had walked into his life, another was sure to be taken. That was his exact reasoning for letting Ginny go. There was something greater than himself that needed to be done, something greater than just the Wizarding world as they knew it.

It was about freedom, for not just Wizards, but for the world as a whole. Humans, house-elves, Mudbloods, Purebloods, Half-Bloods, centaurs and hell, even the acromatulas. It was a start to a unification the earth had never seen before.

The truth of Dumbledore's need for Harry, for Hermione, and for Ron was a revelation in the form of self-discovery. _Neither can live while the other survives._ Harry could not have the life he wanted with Lord Voldemort commanding an army of confused and scared Neanderthals. Lord Voldemort could not create the world order he craved with Harry Potter still a walking, talking, and breathing proof of his one failure. His one weakness.

In the time span from the death of his mentor to the moment Hermione, Ron and Ginny were all ripped from his life, Harry Potter had gone from the Boy-Who-Lived to the Man-Who-Lost.

The fog surrounding the Burrow was thick and unmoving, having rolled in several hours earlier as Harry sat looking out the kitchen window. Not much had changed in those hours, the fog had not dissipated in the slightest, and Harry Potter had not moved a muscle, except to blink when it became absolutely necessary.

Nothing in particular was holding his line of sight, but behind his eyes, the rigs and reels were turning. The emerald specks were glowing in emotion: rage, hatred, fear, loneliness... most importantly, love.

He loved Dumbledore; the old man had been the father Harry never had. Someone to care for him, regardless of his actions. Someone who let him make his own mistakes.

But the man had rested the world on Harry's shoulders. He had revered Dumbledore, thought him the greatest wizard and role model alive, but now his thoughts trailed to what had been lost due to the old man's choices. _It is our choices that make us, Harry, far more than our abilities._

Hard to believe that the man who had said those words to Harry all those years ago was the same man that had been twisting his life to become some great 'weapon'.

Choices.

It all had been so simple at eleven. Sure, his home life and childhood had not been amazing, but Harry had learned to take his happiness wherever it came from. The day he learned he was a wizard, he knew his life would never be the same again.

But it had not been Harry's choice to be marked by a madman. It was the madman's choice to pick such a dark and lonely path, to choose Harry as the one to 'mark as his equal'.

Harry sighed, letting his head drop onto his upward palm. Dumbledore did not make the choice to set Harry's path parallel to Voldemort's. The day Tom Marvolo Riddle had made his first Horcrux and dropped his birth name, that choice had already been made. The boy who became Lord Voldemort had already decided to do whatever it took to be immortal. To have absolute power.

And it was all quite funny to Harry in the moment. The things he never wanted: fame, power, wealth, they were all Voldemort wanted. So Harry laughed. At first, quietly. Soon, with his scar burning and images of the Dark Lord's rage coursing through his mind, it progressed into full blown hysterics.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The door to the bedroom had crashed open before either motioned to do so themselves. Draco took this in stride, not breaking their kiss while grabbing her hands and tugging her along with him. He felt the bed behind his knees and let himself sink down. The static in the air had not once dwindled or broken, and, just as in the sitting room, all small objects had taken leave from their stations and whirled around them. Lightning crashed as Draco broke apart to embrace the tiny brunette around the waist, burying his head into her abdomen. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss the crown of his head.

He pulled away slowly, letting his eyes slowly meet hers. He felt the corners of his lips curling upward in an unfamiliar fashion, and Hermione mirrored his expression, though glowing much more than he.

"Is Draco Malfoy smiling?" she teased with a cocked eyebrow.

He thought on this for a moment before replying. "Only if I'm looking at Hermione Malfoy nee Granger," answered Draco.

As their tongues collided once more, Hermione quickly took place on top of him, kneeling with a leg on either side. She pushed her small frame against him and he couldn't stop the groan that was emitted. His arms snaked behind her, and, if possible, pulled her closer. They continued their battle for dominance as his hands found the hem of her shirt, tracing his fingers underneath on her bear skin.

It was her turn to moan as his touch erupted a flame of sensations never felt before. Sensing her distraction, Draco quickly let his kisses trail lightly downward from her mouth, hands still stroking her back, so leisurely moving the shirt upward with his movements. The ministrations were making Hermione's core throb and before her shirt had hit the floor, her panties were soaked. The build up was becoming agonizing.

Before the blonde could object, she had undone the clasps of her lace bra and it joined her shirt on the floor. Draco looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smile upon his lips. One hand around her waist, the other, along with his eyes, trailed down from her lips, to her jaw... her neck...

The middle of her clavicle...

Slowly, he made his way around her shoulder... and down her upper arm before ever _so_ lightly stroking the underside of her breast, and it was taking his all not to devour her. Her hips ground against his and he cupped her fully before leaning down and taking her already erect nipple in his mouth, letting his tongue twirl around before letting his teeth graze it gently. His other hand joined on the opposite side.

For a good amount of time, Draco took his time with each. While his mouth was suckling on one side, his opposite hand was kneading and pinching the other. He kissed his way from left to right, right to left, applying most pressure on the dip directly in the center of Hermione's cleavage.

She let her hips roll into his almost rhythmically throughout this process, feeling her face flush from the heat. When his eyes were not closed in concentration, they were staring up at her, half-lidded and full of desire. The tainted gray was storming violently, it seemed, and she was certain hers were alight with the same longing.

"Please, Draco," he heard her whisper breathlessly as she ground into him harder than before. Unable to control his urge any longer, and with one swift movement, she was beneath him. Draco gave her another passionate kiss, and her toes nearly curled from the pleasure of his lips on hers once more. Her hands were above her head, clutching the pillows for dear life as one of her legs wrapped around his waist. She pulled his hips down just as she bucked upward and he hissed, breaking the kiss.

Before she could protest, his lips were back on her stomach and he made quick work of her skirt. As it crumpled onto the floor, his teeth tugged at her panties pleadingly and she glanced at him to see him waiting for her approval. She smiled seductively and nodded. One hand worked down one side while his mouth moved the other, his teeth sliding across her bare leg.

Once she was fully naked, Draco lifted himself up on his palms to look at the beauty before his eyes. "You're bloody gorgeous," he breathed as he took in the sight. Her breasts were pert, not too big or small, they fit perfectly in the palm of his hands; her stomach was thin from their time on the run, but not sickly so, and the hips she had somehow hid so well beneath her school uniform perfected her hour glass figure. The tuft of brown hair concealing her womanhood was neat and trim. He couldn't help his fingers sliding between those beautiful thighs to brush against her heat. He smirked suddenly. "It makes me glad to know that you want this just as much as I," he spoke before plunging a finger into her depths.

Hermione lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, biting her bottom lip. A second finger soon joined in and she felt a jolt go through her body.

"I think—" she started, but was interrupted by the tsunami that overtook her body. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her and only until the feeling had subsided several minutes later did she realize he had made use of his tongue, for he was licking his lips and fingers as she caught her breath.

"That was just the beginning," he told her, his voice husky, as he retrieved his wand and, with a wave, his clothes were gone as well. He leaned in to kiss her, and she tasted her own arousal as their tongues met feverishly. It was the most erotic flavor she had ever tasted.

As if something turned on in her head, she suddenly turned her head away.

Draco gave her an almost hurt look. "What's the matter?" he panted with a frown. He had thought things were going rather swimmingly.

"I..." she started before sighing. "I'm... oh, gods, Draco, I'm a vir—" she stopped herself. "I've never gotten this far with anyone, if you catch my meaning..."

He looked at her for a moment before giving her a small, lopsided grin. "I already knew that, love," he assured her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "If you want to stop, I will concede, but know that if this happens again I will have to—"

She forced her lips upon his and grabbed his backside with her hands, pulling his hips into hers once more. As if needing no more encouragement, Draco put a hand in between them, taking his already throbbing member and poising it at her entrance. She dug her nails into him, as if to say she was ready, and he slowly entered her, stopping just as he reached her maidenhead. In one swift motion he bit down hard on her bottom lip as he thrust himself fully inward. She gasped beneath him and he stopped before withdrawing once more and looking into her eyes.

Hermione nodded. The pain had been fleeting and was overthrown by the pleasure pulsing through her body. She brought her hands around his shoulders and urged him forward. Slowly, he filled her to the hilt once more before withdrawing almost fully once more.

She glistened beneath him with sweat and their breathing became more ragged as he continued with this slow, methodical pace. He grabbed one of her hands and intertwined their fingers and stretched them above her head. She bit into his neck and he quickened his thrusts. Hermione was bucking her hips to meet him and he could barely contain himself much longer.

Just as his body was about to overwhelm him, he heard Hermione's whimper, "Draco," and looked into her eyes as the nails on her free hand dug into him painfully. Their eyes connected for merely a second before hers shut and he felt her walls clench around him, feeling himself so sensitive to the feeling that he too fell over the edge. They grasped onto each other for dear life as the waves hit, Hermione moaning loudly as Draco pressed his head into the nape of her neck. Never, in all his life, had he felt so amazing. The whirlwind which had overtaken the room suddenly stood still, items stuck mid-air before falling back into place.

"Hermione," he spoke, his voice raspy. Neither made any inclination of movement. They continued holding each other as their hearts slowed. Finally Draco rolled off and out of her, collapsing by her side and pulling her close to him. Chests together, she looked up at him with her large eyes and smiled. He returned it. "Hermione."

Her voice was silky and sultry when she finally spoke. Just one word, and he knew he was done for. "Draco," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head and smothering himself in her chestnut curls.

Draco was suddenly whole once again, as he held his wife in his arms long after she had fallen asleep. Her even breaths and every now and then a small sigh of contentment his only indication that she was truly alive. Truly there.

Truly his.

Malfoy could never love Granger. Not in a million years. Even the notion made Malfoy want to laugh out loud.

But, Draco... Draco _was _in love with Hermione. With that, he curled his arms around her protectively. She had freed him from becoming his father; had changed him from only living as a surname. She had found him, Draco, and pulled him from behind the shadow that had formed Malfoy.

Now that she had found him, saved him, he was going to make damn sure to never let her go.

xXxXxXx

It could not have been much later that the door to the Burrow had opened. By this time, however, Harry was on the ground, hysterical, maniacal guffaws echoing in the kitchen around him as he held his stomach with one hand and wiped away tears that had forced their way to the surface.

"He's gone mental," Ginny whispered to Ron before placing the brown package on the table and kneeling beside the raven-haired young man on the ground, who still had yet to notice their presence. Ron only stood, both brows so high they were lost behind his long mop of ginger, a look of half amusement, half confusion rather apparent.

"Harry!" Ginny shouted, slapping Harry on the shoulder. He merely looked up at her and started laughing even harder, if possible.

Suddenly, his arms flew upward, "Aren't our lives just grand!"

"I think you were right, Ginny..."

"We're all just one big, happy sodding family!" continued Harry, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. "Voldemort is a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Harry, are you quite alright?" asked Ginny, her brow knitted in a frown.

He took a couple deep breaths and sat himself up. "Now that you're both here... Yes, I am absolutely, positively fine. Want some tea?"

"This is our house, you know," replied Ron as he took a seat at the table, throwing a confused look towards his sister. "We'll just make some after we're rested."

Ginny offered Harry a hand, which he shook off and jumped to his feet, brushing his robes off before taking a seat beside his friend.

"You do realize that we've been hostages for a few days now, right?" asked Ron. "And that we've escaped?"

"Oh, I already knew you were coming," he responded lightly.

"Are you... humming?"

Harry stopped mid-_hmm _and gave them both a curious look. "I was just reveling in the fact that I am everything the Dark Lord wants to be."

Both Ron and Ginny shook their heads quickly, as if that thought were so absurd. And, at the time, it was. Here they were, after days of torture and captivity, returning to find their friend and the young man who held the future of the world in his hands... laughing.

"Don't you see!" he exclaimed suddenly, his hands once more flying upwards to emphasize his recent epiphany. "'_He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.' _It has been right in front of my eyes this entire time." Once again he used his hands and gestured everything around him.

"No offense, Harry," Ginny spoke up and grabbed the parcel at the end of the table. "We've had a long past few days. So can you please open this so me and Ronald can finally sleep. Tomorrow, I promise you can share all of your new found realizations with us. But, tonight, I want to know what is so damn special about this package that Snape, of all people, freed us, just so you could have it."

The glimmer in his eyes died as a frown formed.

They sat the package down on the table and Harry drew his wand. He checked for curses, or any trace of Dark Magic that might mean this package could represent a problem. After finding none, to his knowledge, and without touching it, he flicked his wand and the brown paper tore to reveal a simple Rosewood box. He lifted the lid by wand and cast it aside.

"Oh, Merlin!" exclaimed Harry with a groan. "Not you again!"

xXxXxXx

The next morning, after Ron and Ginny had been treated, fed and interrogated by almost every single member of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry was no closer to figuring out why, _exactly_, Snape had sent him the Sorting Hat. It was a nice sentiment, Harry pondered, but it held no great importance within their quest.

After far too long, Harry realized that he was being a dunderhead. A complete and utter moron.

He stuck his hand inside and felt around, finding cool metal against his hand and withdrew the item. Just as he suspected, the sword of Gryffindor. Well, at least they could destroy Horcruxes now.

Something seemed off though.

He reached inside once more and retrieved a small box, almost identically to the one the hat had been sent in. He opened it. Inside, there were two things: a letter, folded tightly, and a small vial containing a silvery blue substance.

_Memories. _

xXxXxXxXx

**Author's Note:** HELLO TO EVERYONE! I decided to repost this chapter with a few minor changes, and let everyone know I LOST chapter 12 and am halfway through the rewrite. I decided to take a different route than before with continuing this, and I hope you all will enjoy it. I also hope I will be finishing this chapter within a day or two.

I started this story at 14. I am now 21 years old, and damn things have changed. So differences in my writing style should be enjoyable. I hope.

Love,

LeeLee the Lunatic


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Harry Potter, Angst, Drama