Awakens victim.

that night.

Draco had just allowed his eyes to fall shut when Hermione's grip tightened on his shirt. Killer senses alert, he surged up and grabbed his wand. It was just in time too - Hermione awoke with a gasp, and he had a split second to cast a Muffliato before he was engulfed by screaming.

He'd heard a lot of screams before. But none had ever sounded as terrifying as hers did.

Still shrieking, Hermione thrashed against an invisible attacker. Her hands swung out to defend herself, and some of her healed wounds ripped in her struggle. Draco swore under his breath when she kicked him. Setting his wand aside, he reached forward to grab her arms.

"Granger. Granger, shut up!"

She didn't hear him. She choked and sobbed hysterically. And when her arm rose, he caught a glimpse of a familiar scar that had plagued him for nights back when the war had first begun.

M U D B L O O D

He couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine. That Bella-fucking-trix. She always knew how to hit where it hurt most. The words on Hermione's arm were faded but forever there. He hated himself for having watched it happen, and hated himself even more now that he'd seen it again.

But then her screams shook him out of his guilt-ridden reverie and he gazed down at her, flinching when one of her nails caught his cheek, her nail slicing clean off a bit of flesh. Where had she learnt to fight like that? And under what circumstances was she in to be forced to fight like that?

He dragged her arms down to her side and shook her by the shoulders. "Granger, wake up!"

She froze, then blinked. Her wide eyes landed on him, recognition dawning in them. "Draco?"

"Yes, it's me."

Her face crumpled with relief. "I-I – "

"You had a nightmare. It's over now," he said quietly, before letting go of her. He grabbed his wand to heal her ripped wounds, and tried not to react when she reached for him again.

"I'm so sorry," she choked, gazing up at him with familiar brown eyes. The eyes he'd always had haunting visions of, the eyes that had quickly become a fixture of his every nightmare and every pleasant dream. She reached up with the other hand for his face. "I-I'm so sorry I hurt you. I didn't – I didn't mean to."

He almost leaned into her palm - her warmth like gravity, pulling him down to her. But he caught himself before he could and flinched away, settling back into the safety of his armchair. "It's fine," he muttered. "Go back to sleep. I'll get sleeping draughts for you tomorrow."

She nodded, staring up at him with all the apology in the world when it should've been him staring at her that way. Sliding her fingers past the sleeve of his jumper, she slipped them onto his palm instead, curling round and gripping his hand tight. Then she turned on her side – towards him, always towards him –tucked their hands just next to her cheek, and closed her eyes.

Draco tried not to jump away. Instead, he spent the rest of the night relishing the pain she'd given him – the scratch on his cheek, the kick in his gut – and trying his best to tune out her soft sobs, and the way her tears left unforgiving stains on his hand.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The room was empty when she awoke.

Hermione blinked and looked around. This place was foreign to her, but with a strange familiarity that seemed to have been from a dream long ago. She turned to the right, her gaze landing on the armchair.

And, suddenly, everything was real.

With a gasp, she shot up. Pain wracked through her body, but she ignored it. Because Draco wasn't here, Draco was gone.

Draco had left.

Choking back a sob, she stumbled out of bed. Her knees buckled beneath her, but she pushed herself towards the door. "Draco," she gasped, reaching for the doorknob. Hadn't he promised that he wouldn't leave? Or had something happened to him? Hysteria swept through her, a tidal wave strong enough to drown. "Draco - "

The door clicked open and she was shoved to the side as a familiar figure slid in. And then she saw him – every bit of his face that she had yearned for; his snowy hair falling into his eyes, the elegant refined cheekbones and slope of his nose, and the hard line of his lips that could never, ever seem cruel to her.

His warm silver eyes flickered towards her, and they widened. "For Merlin's sake," Draco swore, immediately directing the tray over to the table with a hand before casting a quick Muffliato around the room. Then he slammed the door shut and knelt down beside her. "What are you – "

Without waiting to hear the rest of his sentence, she all but threw herself into his arms. She felt him tense, his arms freeze by his sides; but she clutched his jumper within her fingers and sobbed into his chest.

She thought she had lost him again, you see. She really thought she had.

"You thought I left, didn't you?" he asked at last, his voice quiet.

When she continued to cry silently, he let out a sigh and picked her up. One arm looped under her knees, the other behind her back. He laid her gently down on the bed and she stared up at him, trying to convey how sorry she was without words. Because words just didn't come easily to her anymore.

"I didn't leave," he said, settling down on the leather chair. "I just went to get some food and medicine for you. I wouldn't leave, Granger, this is my place."

Her throat tightened. "M-Malfoy Manor? We-we're in – "

"No. We're in London." He didn't seem to be able to meet her eyes and Hermione wondered if he was feeling guilty. She wished he wouldn't. "This place – it's a shared apartment, so you'll have to be quiet at all times."

"Shared?" She pushed herself up as he brought the tray over. Porridge and tea - food that, while bland, looked like heaven after she'd been starved for so long.

Draco sighed. "Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini all live here," his silver eyes studied her solemnly, seeming to gauge her expression but Hermione was silent. Their names were but vague, almost non-existent inklings to her and she could hardly even remember how they looked like. She'd forgotten so many faces since then.

"I mean it, Granger," he pressed, when she didn't say anything. "You can't make a noise. They're all Death-Eaters like me. If anyone of them knows..."

"They won't," she promised, not wanting to contemplate the alternative of being sent back. Wherever. Without him. "I-I'll be quiet, I promise, just please don't – "

- leave me. The words burned unspoken on her tongue, but he'd cut in before she could. "How're your bruises? And your ribs?"

"They're okay." They weren't, but she didn't want him to worry. She tried to sit up to show him that she was fine, but couldn't stop from wincing at the sharp ache.

His gaze narrowed. He flicked his wand to push her shirt up slightly, and she quickly drew her free arm around her stomach to hide the ugly bruises. But with another flick of his wand, her arm was back by her side.

She gave him a faint smile. "You've gotten better at this."

"Practice," he returned, and touched the wand to her bruises. A soft blue glow flickered against her skin and the sharp ache ceased. He fished out several phials from his jumper pocket and held them out to her. "Now drink these."

But to pop the cap off the phials required both hands and she didn't want to let go of him. She tried to remove the cap with one hand instead.

Draco sighed, even though she noticed his lips twitch in amusement, and uncapped the phials for her. She drank quietly and ate the porridge, spoon in one hand and the bowl resting in his. When she was done, he eased her back into bed and drew the covers over her.

She watched him without a sound, studying his face and finding solace in the fact that she'd remembered him fairly well. The war had obviously not been kind to him, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. But he'd certainly grown into his features – a stronger jawline, broader shoulders and the distinguished, aristocratic air that made him unmistakable. She could find his face in a million others, she was sure of it.

" – Granger."

She hadn't realised he was speaking until he said her name. "Yes?"

"I said – you have to let me go, sometimes."

She froze.

"I'm not going to leave," he hastened to assure her. "But I have to leave for work, every day. You understand, don't you?"

Tears sprung to her eyes. She understood, she really did, and she didn't want to be such a burden on him. But it was just so so difficult. She couldn't imagine being alone again, with nothing but the walls closing in on her and her thoughts pushing their way out from within.

"Granger?"

She swallowed and tried to focus on his voice but their voices were getting louder and louder. And she could hear it all, Crucio, Crucio, Crucio...

"Fuck. Granger," her eyes flew open when she felt a familiar warmth grip her shoulders. She hadn't even realised her eyes were closed. "Look at me," he whispered harshly, his silvery gaze pinning her down. She nodded and felt their voices fade as she stared up at him. "I will not leave you. Not again. I will always come back for you. And even if I'm late, you must remember that you're safe here. You understand?"

Somehow, that word had lost all meaning in this war. But she clung onto it all the same. "Safe?"

"Yes, safe." He hesitated for a beat, then reached up to pull a chain off his neck. The chain was thin silver, strong and unbreakable. Three sturdy phials hung on the bottom, though they hardly seemed to weigh anything at all. "See this? These phials hold memories belonging to Snape, my mother and my father. I've viewed two of them, except for my father's."

She looked at him, and wondered if he knew that pain was etched into his every feature. In spite of his shuttered expression, she could see it all. Her hands itched to soothe the frown from between his eyes, but she kept them firmly by her sides.

He pulled out the phial that held his father's memories and held it out to her. "Keep this."

Her breath caught. "What?"

"You keep this. Because it's the only one I haven't viewed yet, and I'll have to come back for it. So you don't have to worry about me leaving forever."

Tears sprung to her eyes as she reached for the phial. As soon as he dropped the phial in her palm, he made to move away, but she reached out for him with her other hand. He froze, his eyes darting up to her face, and she smiled. "Thank you, Draco."

He nodded and slipped the chain back around his neck. Then he leaned against his armchair, but didn't bother pulling his hand away from her. "Go back to sleep, Granger. I'm off work for the rest of the day, so I'll be here when you wake up."

She choked back a grateful sob and closed her eyes.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

As the front door slammed shut, Draco swore under his breath and scowled. Slytherins are supposed to be subtle... He raised a hand to calm Hermione, who had jolted awake at the sound. "It's Theo and the others. Stay here, I won't be long."

Gently, he disentangled his fingers from her and stood to leave. One look in her direction, however, made him falter. She'd bitten her bottom lip, staring up at him with wide, brown eyes that betrayed her anxiety.

He shoved away the urge to stay and fixed her a firm look. "I still need that, Granger," he said, pointing to the phial clasped in her other hand. "Don't lose it."

She drew in a deep breath and nodded. It was impossible to lose a phial in such a short time - they both knew it, but it didn't seem to stop her from being utterly focused in her new task. He saw her stare at it fixedly, much like she'd watched him earlier.

Throwing her one last look over his shoulder, he locked the door behind him and wrapped it in a tight Muffliato before heading to the kitchen. His friends were gathered around the dining table, unwrapping bags of food.

"Oi, Draco!" Theo was the first to notice him, and the dark-haired wizard sauntered over to clap him on the back. "Thanks for last night, mate."

Pansy's eyebrows shot up and she set the plates down. "What did the two of you do last night?" She asked suggestively. Blaise chuckled beside her.

"You know what I meant," Theo scowled at the couple. "The patrol at the Quarry. The Dark Lord was happy with the results, by the way," he told Draco, before grimacing. "Fuck, did I just use 'the Dark Lord' and 'happy' in the same bloody sentence?"

"You also shagged Draco last night. So clearly we are living in a parallel universe," Blaise commented dryly, before beckoning them to the table.

"We didn't shag, you shit. Anyway, the refugees captured were going to join the Order. So that's six less members of the Order to worry about."

Draco remained indifferent as he heaped a plate with food. "Did we learn anything?"

Theo shrugged at Draco's calm question. "I used Cruciatus on them. Apart from the fact that they had stayed at the Quarry for the past week, and were waiting to be rescued by saint Potter? Nothing. Unexpectedly silent bunch, including the kid."

"Did you – "

"Yeah, I erased their memories before sending them off. At least they won't be screaming any secrets when they're being shredded by werewolves."

"And that's all for dinner tonight," finished Blaise, looking rather green in the face as he pushed his plate away. "Thanks a lot, Theo."

"You're welcome, Blaise."

Draco watched as Blaise disappeared into the room he shared with Pansy. His friend always had a low threshold for the macabre, in spite of the numbing spell they'd invented together. It was supposed to dull their emotions, until they felt nothing but calm when they carried out their missions. Thoroughly effective, until the spell wore off and the guilt hit.

And it hit hard.

He knew, because he'd spent most of the last three years with that gaping, gnawing guilt in his chest. Nothing, not even the spell, could remove the guilt he felt when he thought of Hermione Granger.

Shit. Granger. He had to get back to her now.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice shook him from his thoughts.

He stared at her warily. Out of the three, Pansy was the one he had to worry about when it came to hiding Hermione. Nothing ever escaped her eyes. Or her nose. "What?"

She shook her head at him. "I asked, how are you feeling? You said you couldn't come to work today and when I told the Dark Lord, he seemed rather worried."

Theo sputtered dramatically on his food. "First pleased, and now worried? Could this be the day? Could the Dark Lord actually be showing actual, human emotions?"

"I suppose so, especially when it comes to his favourite Death-Eater," Pansy smirked knowingly at Draco. "He even Crucio'd Theo because it was Theo's mission and you had to cover for him. The Dark Lord thought last night's trip made you ill."

Draco's eyes flickered to Theo, but Theo shrugged. "One Cruciatus curse. It was fine, mate, serves me right for getting drunk."

It didn't. None of his friends deserved the cards they'd been dealt in this war. He cast a frosty glare at Pansy. "I told you or Blaise to go."

"I know," Pansy said, her voice contrite, and she pulled Theo into a quick hug. "Sorry, Theo, and I apologise on Blaise's behalf. I'll make it up to you somehow."

"You could take those twins out," Theo smirked suggestively at Pansy, who glared evenly back at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

"Sure, let me just tell Blaise first. Blaise?"

"Alright, alright, nevermind," Theo scowled in defeat, knowing when he was well and truly beaten. "Keep your bloody knickers on, woman – unless you're not wearing any."

"Blaise, love, would you come out here please?"

Draco rolled his eyes at their banter and finished piling his plate with food. He turned to leave, but was stopped when Pansy called his name.

"Aren't you going to eat out here with us?"

"Still feel like shit," he mumbled and disappeared back into his room.

The other two exchanged glances. "You think he's really ill?" Theo asked, at last.

"Of course not. I think it gets too much for him some days. Today's one of those days."

"Hopefully he doesn't die on us," Theo tried to sound cavalier, but Pansy could hear the tremor in his voice. And she knew better than anyone that if Draco ever did die, Theo would be the most wrecked up about it.

"He wouldn't," she said, more confidently than she really felt. "He's got a reason to live. We all do."