Aw, it's cute you guys prefer Draco! I'm all the way, at least, developing his character was one of the best parts about writing this fanfic (and Finite). Another question—based on the Harry Potter books (not Draconian):

x Noelle

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Heals minor injuries.

to see the smile on Hermione's face when he entered the room. His features softened. "You heard that?"

A giggle fell from her lips. The book on Herbology that was lying in front of her was completely forgotten; along with the carton of food that Pansy had given her earlier. "Did – did Theo really bring two girls home?"

Draco began to nod, but he stilled suddenly when he registered what she'd just said. Home. Fuck, was Hermione actually getting attached to this place?

"Draco?"

He turned his attention back to her. "Yeah, he did. And he couldn't get rid of them, that bloody git."

"I heard. Got a bit of a shock though." She gestured to the door. "What was that?"

"Firewhisky. Theo'll clean that up."

Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest. "Does Theo always do this? Bring his...girlfriends home, I mean."

"Not girlfriends – slags. And yeah, he does. He's a known womaniser since Hogwarts days."

"Yes, I know. If I remember correctly – you were quite the womaniser too."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. As far as he had been concerned, his conquests had been more or less kept within the Slytherin dormitories. "Who told you?"

Her smile was almost wicked – not dangerous like Pansy's; but more mischievous, playful, and he felt his eyes drawn to her lips like the Earth's magnetic pull. "Rumours. So...are they true?"

"What?"

"Your – slags," she seemed rather uncomfortable saying that. And it almost seemed too vulgar coming from her lips. Draco couldn't decide whether he liked or loathed it.

"In the past," he acceded. When he had time. When he wasn't the head Death-Eater. When he didn't have that much blood on his hands that he felt like he'd taint whoever he touched. "Not so much now."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "No reason," his tone was cavalier. "Do you want me to?" He couldn't help but turn the tables on her, and when she blushed a dozen shades of crimson, he felt rather amused.

"Of course not!"

Her response was far too quick, far too heated for him to ignore. "Why?" When she faltered and averted her gaze, he took a step closer. Something told him that he was placing a foot in dangerous territories, but he had always liked playing with fire. "Why, Granger?"

"Because – " He could almost hear the gears whirring in her head as she fumbled for a response. " – because I live here, that's why! And it'd be disrespectful if...if you brought some girl here while I'm in the same room!"

His lips twitched. "I see."

"And – and dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Merlin, he was a prick to enjoy this but her reaction was golden.

"Because no one's supposed to see me."

"Right."

"And...um, well..."

"Granger." He finally decided to put her out of her misery and reached forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. What he didn't expect to feel was the heat of her body through his jumper that she had borrowed, or her soft hair that glossed his hand when she turned to look up at him. "I get it."

He turned to leave, but she grabbed him before he could go. She curled her hand around his, keeping it on her shoulder, and he could feel the indent of her collarbone against his palm.

"Are you – " she faltered, "Will you come back later?"

Shit.

"Granger – "

"If...if this is about me taking the bed, then I could sleep on the chair," she said quickly, tightening her grip on him when he made to pull away. "Or we could share the bed – "

"It's not about that. I just have work to do." Mentally berating himself, he dragged his hand away and avoided looking at her. "Blaise and Pansy will check up on you."

Without waiting for her reply, he left the room and locked the door behind him. He let out a silent sigh, which didn't go unnoticed by Theo, who hovered nearby to clean the mess outside his door.

"You alright, mate?"

"Fine," he returned shortly and went back into the kitchen, where Pansy and Blaise were sharing a carton of ice-cream.

Theo followed him in and grabbed a spoon so he could get in on the dessert. When Draco cleared his throat, his friends looked at him expectantly. "Friday's going to be different," he said, and reached over to grab several pawn pieces from Blaise's Wizard Chess set. He selected four white pieces and lined them up. "Zabini, you're with me. Your only job is to use Legilimency on every single member in our team – apart from Bellatrix, Donalds and Braddock."

Blaise frowned. "But – "

" – I know, we're dealing with trickier Death-Eaters here. Especially Carrow and Rodolphus. But you're skilled enough to cover your tracks. Just make sure you have enough phials to keep memories on that day. Now you two."

Draco separated the two remaining pawns and turned to Pansy and Theo. "Your jobs are the same as mine. We'll use Legilimency on the Rebellion members. Erase whatever information of the Order you can find and bring enough phials to store those memories."

Theo's eyebrows shot up. "That's it? Sounds simple, if you ask me."

"It is. It's just tedious as hell. Apart from having to fight alongside Death-Eaters, you'll have to use Legilimency on as many Rebellion members as you can. Also, Parkinson – keep an eye out on Pritchard and make sure to keep him safe. Zabini says he's on our side now, we need him alive. Nott – make sure Yaxley stays in line. Don't you dare kill him," Draco warned.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Fine."

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Hermione didn't quite understand what was going on with Draco. All she knew was that he was there and not there simultaneously; close to her but too far to reach. He made sure that she was taken care of – whether it was by him or Pansy or Blaise – but never stayed for long. Their conversations were stunted and reduced to bouts of awkward silences.

When Friday arrived, she watched as Draco pulled on his jacket and grabbed his Death-Eater mask. His posture was calm – too calm, and she realised that he was going on yet another mission. She scrambled up, ignoring the ache in her abdomen and the sinking feeling in her heart.

"Please be careful," she said.

He nodded and handed the sleeping draught on the dresser to her. "I'll be back before you know it."

She took the phial, deliberately setting it aside. She could practically feel his eyes following her action but Hermione couldn't help it. She couldn't go to sleep without knowing that Draco was safe. Blaise and Pansy had kept their mouths shut about what they did as Death-Eaters, but Hermione had gone through the worst of the war. And if the world outside was anything as bad as what she had to go through – she didn't want to think about what could happen to Draco.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly took his hand before he could draw away. His skin was warm and she pressed her lips briefly against the palm of his hand, feeling him go rigid under her touch, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made her shiver involuntarily. "I'll be waiting," she whispered a promise against his skin before letting him go.

She watched as he left the room, and kept her ears peeled until all four of them had left the apartment. When the house was empty, she grabbed the nearby clock and set it beside her pillow. Each tick tick tick seemed to last an hour, perhaps an eternity. Sometime later, the phial that she wore began to burn. She sat up and, with shaking hands, reached for it.

The words glowed a furious red in the moonlight and Hermione felt a sudden surge of memories flood through her mind in the next instant. Feeling bile rise up in her throat, she blindly shoved her way to the bathroom, making it just in time before she emptied the contents of her stomach into the sink. She thought she saw a hint of blood mixed in with the rest of the liquid acid, but she couldn't be sure.

With trembling fingers, she flipped the lever on the tap to clean the sink. And then she sank down to her knees, in the same spot where Draco had been just days before. The tears somehow couldn't come this time and she sat there in the darkness, hugging her knees to her chest and concentrating on the dull, throbbing pain in her stomach because the pain in her heart and head were far worse.

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Draco wasn't surprised to see Alecto Carrow's name light up the phials. In fact, he was stupid to not have realised it sooner. He stuffed the phials back under his jacket and gripped his wand tighter. This place was quiet and the Rebellion outnumbered the Death-Eaters three to one. He kept close to the wall as he headed down the hallway, the stopped when he saw Maisie duelling one of the Rebellion.

Without hesitation, he went over and blocked the stinging hex that the Rebellion member sent her way. Before the man could react, he cast a quick Legilimency. The man's face contorted in horror as Draco swiftly learnt all the Rebellion's secrets. Nothing he hadn't already learnt in the past hour.

"What are you – " the man began but Draco was quick to silence him.

"Sleep tight."

A green jet of light shot out from Draco's wand, and the man collapsed onto the ground. Maisie turned to him and smiled. "Thank you," she murmured, but he knew that she wasn't simply thanking him for saving her.

It was more than that. Draco had seen Maisie's memories and knew that the girl had never taken more lives than necessary. The total number of people she'd killed in the past amounted to less than ten, and Draco was adamant on keeping it that way. Some people could still be saved. Maisie was definitely one of those people.

"It's fine," he returned and strode out of the room. He caught a glimpse of Blaise opposite duelling alongside Scabior. No issue there. His friend could hold his own in a fight. He rounded another corner, only to find himself waylaid by three of the Rebellion.

Duelling was second nature to him. But, just as he'd predicted, having to use Legilimency before the killing curse was tedious. He'd finished one of them off when someone appeared beside him. "Need a little help, Malfoy?"

Crabbe Senior.

Draco shook his head. "I'm fine, Crabbe."

The name slipped so swiftly past his lips that, for a moment, it seemed as though Draco had been taken back years ago, to Hogwarts days. When it was him and Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, always Crabbe and Goyle. But now there was no more Crabbe or Goyle, victims to a Fiendfyre and the war respectively, and it was just him. Alone.

He shoved that thought aside and hit the closest enemy with a Legilimens. Then a killing curse. Two down, one to go. But the last was swift on his feet, and Crabbe Senior was a shit excuse of a Death-Eater. When the older man stumbled, Draco lunged forward to block the hex. It caught his face and he swore as he felt a searing crack in his nose. "Shit."

"That's right," the Rebellion member taunted, firing hex after hex at him, all of which Draco deflected easily. "You call yourselves the Death-Eaters and you can't even kill proper – " his words froze on the tip of his tongue as Draco silently hit him with Legilimency.

Draco smirked. "Only because I was playing with my fucking food," he said evenly, letting the last of the man's memories flood his mind.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

The man's eyes widened. "What the hell – "

"Now I'm hungry," Draco said simply and sent a killing curse straight into the man's heart. He calmly stepped over the dead man's body before glancing over his shoulder at Crabbe Senior. "You alright?"

"Yeah," the Death-Eater spat out a mouthful of blood before climbing slowly to his feet. "Thanks, Malfoy. Really appreciate you blocking the hex for me. How's your nose?"

It hurt like a bitch but Draco revelled in the pain. "It's fine," he muttered and turned to leave. "Stay alert. I might not be there to save your arse next time round."

But even as the words left Draco's lips, he knew he would, somehow. It was what he'd been doing for the past three years, looking out for them, saving their bloody lives, even if they were never aware of it. Not particularly for them – Draco had always thought that Crabbe and Goyle Senior were incompetent Death-Eaters – but for their sons.

And for his own guilt that he'd tried to suppress for years, but never could.

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The bed was empty when he returned.

And the panic that surged through him was physically crushing. He imagined the worst-case scenarios in the next fleeting moments – Hermione found by the Death-Eaters, Hermione being captured again, Hermione being killed. The thoughts drained the oxygen from his lungs, leaving nothing but vacuum behind, and he couldn't fucking breathe.

He slammed the door shut and scanned the room. "Granger?" He sounded pathetic and frightened, but he couldn't help it. Where the hell was she? Then he caught a glimpse of her in his peripheral. The air surged back into his lungs and he stumbled in his haste to reach her.

"Fuck. Granger," he exhaled in relief when he saw her sleeping, her face calm and peaceful. Her fingers were clasped firmly around the phial, a grip unrelenting even in her sleep.

He had just moved to pick her up from the floor when he hesitated and whipped out his wand instead. Using the Levitation charm, he carefully manoeuvred her back to the bed, tugging the sheets around her. His fingers absentmindedly brushed the stray strands of hair away from her forehead. He wished, for a moment, that he was not Draco Malfoy and she was not Hermione Granger and that there was no war – and maybe things would be a lot simpler then.

"Draco?"

He pulled back when she awoke. A smile flitted across her face when she saw him, only to be swiftly taken over by a look of concern. She struggled to sit up and reached a palm up to his cheek. "You're bleeding," she whispered.

He drew his sleeve across his nose and ignored the stinging pain. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." She reached for her wand on the dresser and pointed it at him. The look on her face was steeled with equal parts worry and determination as she took a deep breath. "Episkey."

The broken bones swiftly slotted back into place. He flinched, but she held him in place, gently brushing her thumb against his jaw.

"Better now?"

He nodded mutely. There was something entirely different about Hermione in situations like this, but he couldn't quite place a finger on why he found it so mesmerising. Her eyes were bright and set with purpose; like nothing else mattered except for him to get better.

She looked...alive.

It seemed the only fitting way to describe her. She looked alive in a time where death was rampant and the grim reaper's shadow could pass by any moment. She was alive in the city of the dead; not physically dead but dead because of the war; and she was the only beacon of light that was still flickering and he was terrified that, with him, she'd be extinguished eventually.