Here we are, twenty chapters in, thirty more to go. How many of you are still with me?

x Noelle

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Vanishes things.

the bathroom, wringing her hands as she worried about Draco.

After what seemed like forever, the door opened and Draco stepped out with the telephone in hand. "What're you doing, Granger?"

"I was worried about you." She followed him as he went to set the phone down. "Is everything alright?" She reached out to touch his arm but he flinched away.

"Don't." His voice was low and strangled, and he raised his gaze to hers. "I - " He seemed unable to say anymore and showed her his hands instead.

There was no mistaking the rust-coloured stains that tainted his pale skin. Hermione briefly wondered whose blood it was, then realised that she just needed to be grateful that it wasn't his. She reached over to the table for her wand and held it over his hands, remembering a spell that Blaise had taught her several days ago.

"Scourgify."

The stains vanished from his hands. She stepped forward, but he fended her away. "It's not enough, I just...I need to get it all off."

She didn't stop him this time. He wanted these bloodstains off as much as she wanted some of her scars gone. She watched as he retrieved a fresh set of clothes and headed to the bathroom. It took him a good fifteen minutes before he emerged. He frowned when he saw her sitting in his chair.

"Granger – "

"You need the bed – more than I do tonight," Hermione told him quickly, before he could say anything else. She went over to him, tugging on his arm when he refused to budge and pulling him over to the bed.

"For Salazar's sake – "

"I'll be fine," she shushed him. In spite of his protests, he let her push him down onto the bed. He watched her with an inexplicable gaze as she drew the covers over him. She brushed his hair out of his eyes and rest her palm against his cheek. "I'll get a sleeping draught from the kitchen."

She began to pull away, but his fingers flew up to latch around her wrist, holding her hand still against his cheek before she could. "Don't go," he murmured, and there was a sliver of vulnerability as he stared up at her that made her chest tighten painfully.

Merlin, there were times when she forgot that he was just twenty-one. And that the war had made him just as lost and vulnerable as she was.

"Of course," she whispered, and leaned forward to press her lips gently against his forehead. Then she pulled back, settling down in his chair and holding his hand tightly, glad that she could be the stronger one for once.

"Goodnight, Draco."

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Draco awoke to the sounds of arbitrary explosions – not the loud, devastating kind, but more along the lines of some objects being blasted to bits.

"She takes a swing," he heard a familiar voice say from outside. Theo. "And will he hit it...? Yes! He hits it!"

Theo's laughter echoed with a feminine one that sounded like Hermione's. Draco pushed himself up and ran a hand through his hair as he headed out of the room.

His eyes widened when he saw that the furniture was all shifted to the corner, with Theo and Hermione standing on opposite ends of the room. Hermione had a baseball bat in hand and a basket of apples by her feet, while Theo was holding out his wand. And the walls, floor and ceiling of the living room were stained with what seemed like apple bits.

"She's going to pitch again," Theo declared, oblivious to Draco's presence. "And he's getting ready. Are you ready?" he asked Hermione, as she picked up another apple.

Hermione smiled and swung the bat backwards. "Ready."

Theo held out his wand. "Okay, pitch it."

She threw the apple and took a swing at it. A flash of light streaked out from Theo's wand to blow the fruit to bits.

Quick as thought, Draco held out his hand and summoned the apple silently to him, smirking when both Theo and Hermione looked visibly surprised and confused. Then they turned to him simultaneously, Hermione smiling wider when she saw him, while Theo looked sheepish.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Draco asked dryly, taking a generous bite out of the apple. He tried to ignore the fact that his heart practically raced as Hermione walked over to him quickly, wrapping her arms around his waist in a brief hug before pulling back, her eyes bright and happy.

Theo shrugged. "I'm teaching her the Knockback jinx."

"By trashing the room?"

"Blaise'll clean it."

"No," Draco gave him a flat look. Blaise was the responsible one while Theo was often known for making horrible messes, but Draco wasn't going to let Blaise clean up after Theo all the time. "You're going to clean it."

Theo groaned. "Don't piss on my parade, mate. I was just teaching Hermione how to fight now that she's part of 17-65."

How has he not thought of this before? He'd been so concerned for Hermione's safety that he hadn't even thought to prepare her for any fights. He turned to her."How's it working out so far?"

She sighed. "I'm not so good at it."

"Not so good? Please. Red is shite at it," Theo said bluntly. Draco's eyebrows shot up at the nickname but pushed his curiosity aside to appease at a later date, and looked at Hermione, who hardly seemed offended by what Theo had said. "She can't even bring herself to hurt a fly."

"Why would I want to hurt a fly?" Hermione asked, looking quite appalled.

"Because flies are annoying, they – "

"Shut up for a minute, Theo," Draco cut in, as a sudden idea came to him. He thought about the night he'd returned with the sprained ankle, and the night he'd returned with a broken nose. He remembered the light in her eyes, the steadiness of her hands and the alertness of her mind.

And everything fell into place.

He crossed the room and plucked the wand neatly out of Theo's hand. Pointing it at his own arm, he cast a quick Stinging hex. Scorching pain shot through his arm amidst Theo and Hermione's horrified gasps.

"Granger," he turned to Hermione, who was deathly pale and was already heading towards him. "Find your wand."

He didn't have to ask twice. Hermione ran back into their room without a second thought. Theo took a step forward, prepared to heal the wound himself, but Draco stopped him.

"Teach her how to heal me," he told Theo.

If Hermione Granger couldn't fight, then she sure as hell could heal. It made sense in a time like this, where fixing wounds was just as important as inflicting them, and perhaps even more important, because it was the only way they could stay alive to end the war.

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Draco and Theo were on one of the most difficult missions they ever had to undertake and the funny thing was that it wasn't even for the Dark Lord. In fact, it was just for Hermione Granger. After Andromeda had told Draco about the whereabouts of Hermione's wand, Draco had taken it upon himself to get it back for her.

And Theo, like the insatiable git that he was, decided it was going to be fun to tag along.

They had ventured into one of the Order's makeshift bases, and placed themselves under disillusionment charms. But three minutes in and he realised that the charms were unnecessary. The place was empty, save for a house-elf and six injured people.

"Hey." Theo's voice made him stiffen."Isn't that one of the new initiates?"

Draco followed the direction of Theo's gaze to where a sole figure lurched in the hallway. Johnny Martins. One of the new Death-Eaters who had just joined the Dark Lord's inner circle.

"What's he doing here?" Theo asked.

Draco didn't know. But he did know that Martins was either betraying the Dark Lord or the Order. "You find Hermione's wand," he told Theo. "It's somewhere in the basement. I'll trail Martins."

"Got it. By the way, can the wand be my gift to Hermione for that stupid Christmas thing we're celebrating?"

Draco automatically scowled; glad that Theo couldn't see him because of the Disillusionment charm. He'd risked practically everything to retrieve Hermione's wand just so he could give it back to her for Christmas, and now Theo was going to take credit for it.

"Fine," Draco growled at last, deciding that he'd probably have to think of something else, something better to give Hermione, and that was unlikely because the wand was about the best thing he could think of. "I'll meet you at the back door in five minutes, come find me here if I'm not there. Be careful and don't fucking die."

"Always so optimistic," Theo deadpanned, before heading off in the opposite direction.

With no one else in sight, he started to trail Johnny to the east wing. The other man undid the magical locks on a door and headed inside.

Johnny emerged several minutes later; a thick, brown-coloured fabric tucked neatly under his arm. Draco trailed Johnny as he headed back down the corridor again and down the stairwell. It wasn't until Johnny reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a Portkey that Draco stepped out of the shadows and removed the disillusionment charm on himself, realising that this was the most opportune moment to catch Johnny before he portkeyed the hell out of there.

Johnny stopped dead in his tracks. His grip loosened on the Portkey and Draco snatched it out of his grasp. "Didn't expect to see you here, Martins," Draco remarked. "Why're you here?"

Johnny glared. "None of your business, Malfoy."

"So you're not going to tell me?"

Johnny aimed his wand to kill, but Draco knew what spell was coming out of it before he even opened his mouth. "Avada – "

"Too slow," Draco hit him with a silencing charm, followed by a quick body-binding curse. "Fine. I'll find out myself."

Johnny froze as Draco used Legilimency on him. There were times when he hated this spell more than any other. It was lethal to know when, at a time like this, ignorance was bliss. Draco, unfortunately, could never have that.

So when he had finally viewed Johnny's memories, Draco fell a step back. He tugged the cloth firmly away from Johnny's grasp and lowered the wand from Johnny's forehead to just above his heart.

"Really sorry it has to end this way, Martins," Draco said calmly. He swore he could almost see the flicker of sheer terror in Johnny's frozen eyes. Just another shade of terror that would haunt him for the rest of his life. "Avada Kedavra."

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In many ways, Hermione still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that her one-time enemies were now her closest friends. Blaise has spent all afternoon teaching her to brew potions, and she was glad that Draco had figured she was more suited to healing than fighting.

It was a war but she often felt like the fight had gone out of her.

"I think I know why you feel this way, Red," Blaise said, when Hermione had revealed why she didn't feel much like fighting anymore. Both he and Pansy had adopted Theo's nickname for her and were now comfortably calling her that every so often.

"It's because you don't remember how it was like before the war," Blaise continued, when Hermione turned curious eyes on him. "You don't remember your days at Hogwarts or your life before that. And you can't reminisce or wish for something that you no longer remember."

"Actually, that makes a lot of sense," Pansy added, after frowning thoughtfully for awhile. She had been watching them from her perch on the counter, more than contented to stay away from the potions because she claimed she didn't have a knack for making them. "Remembering how things were like before is the reason why Blaise and I want this war to end. We think of better times, of simpler times, of safer times. And we can't wait for things to go back to the way they used to be."

Hermione mulled over their words. Perhaps it was simpler Theo, Blaise and Pansy. Things were good before, and now they were bad. When the war ended, things would go back to being good again.

But it was not the same for her and Draco. For her, things were non-existent before, and now they existed. When the war ended, what then? And As for Draco, she wondered if the end of this war meant the start of another for him.

Hermione looked up when the front door opened. Relief swept through her when she saw Theo and Draco enter, the latter of which held a bundle of fabric.

Setting her spare wand down on the table, she immediately went over to Draco. She'd barely reached out for him when he held out a hand briefly to stop her, in the same way he'd done just the night before. "Don't," she remembered him saying, "I've got too much blood on my hands."

"Draco," she breathed. "Is everything okay?"

His gaze locked on hers, then at the three Slytherins who stood behind her. They all watched with bated breaths as he shook the fabric out. It wasn't just a simple piece of cloth.

It was a cloak.

Draco placed a hand under the cloak and, to their shock, his hand vanished. He smirked. "I guess I found one of the Deathly Hallows."