"The night has fallen, the first stars are lit,

the heart grows hungry, I don't want to die."

— Nikos Kazantzakis (translated by Kimon Friar)

Hermione dabbed the beads of sweat dripping from her brow with a small towel. She stirred the cauldron three times clockwise then two times counterclockwise, watching the potion turn from a dirty grey to a forest green. Briefly, she glanced out the window — the rain had simmered into a soft patter, leaving behind a pale fog as the day descended into twilight.

After double checking her notes, she carefully put two drops of the venom into the mix. Instantly, the potion hissed, eliciting a smell of sour grapes and smoke. Once the potion settled, she reached for her beaded bag and took a clear vile of phoenix tears. They had been extremely rare to come by and were meant to be used in emergency situations. Without hesitating, she poured one drop into the cauldron. Hermione let out a shaky exhale when the substance turned into a clear glassy green.

While Draco had remained unconscious, she had broken down the components of the venom. Anja had quickly deposited the supplies and books she needed, as well as her beaded bag. She wasn't sure if her theories would work, especially with her limited ingredients. Luckily, she and Draco had been right when they deduced that whatever was used on those creatures wasn't perfected. The venom itself had not been able to properly transform the human cells, thus making it easier to create an antidote that isolated the venom and destroyed it.

After bottling the antidote, she went to check on Malfoy's leg. His body was still in a stasis, halting the spreading venom in his veins, but he seemed to grow paler and paler as if he was marble, an eternal sleep like those fairytales her mother would read to her as a child. Focusing on his vital signs glowing above him, she distractedly applied some dittany on her hands that were now blistered and rubbed raw from her hours of non-stop working.

Satisfied with his body temperature, Hermione lifted the bandage on his leg, examining his skin. She had had to carve out the section of flesh where he was bitten because his skin was too far gone, almost entirely made out of serpent scales. There were a couple of small pus-filled boils on her hands from when she had carved out the flesh with a magical blade. She had easily sensed the dark magic seeping from the wound and when a whitish liquid from the bite had touched her skin, it had immediately burned her hand, leaving those boils. Thankfully, no scales had regrown from his flesh but she knew it wouldn't be the case for long.

Carefully, she propped the unconscious Draco up into sitting position and poured the antidote between his bloodless lips. Upon making sure he got it down, she cast a Diagnostic Charm to monitor the effects of the antidote. To her relief, his body temperature was increasing and his fangs were shrinking.

A couple minutes later, after she gently put him back down and re-applied a salve to reknit the skin on his leg, he began to stir. Almost instantly, his stirring escalated into thrashing as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Hermione tried to hold him down but he easily broke from her grasp.

"Draco!" she yelled when he yanked his wrist free. She had anticipated that his body would fight against the antidote but there was nothing she could do except make sure he didn't hurt himself in the process.

Hermione gasped when two hands shot out and roughly grabbed her shoulders as Draco bolted upright, pulling her close until they were eye level. His eyes had returned to a pale grey but his pupils were still slitted inhumanly. Though he looked right at her, his eyes were unseeing as his face twitched and he hissed menacingly, causing fear to shoot through her. She wasn't sure how in control he was as his body underwent an internal war.

"Is the little lioness scared?" he crooned, a morbid smile flitting over his features as he continued to twitch and snarl. A hand gently snaked around her neck and she felt the rapid beat of her heart in her throat as he squeezed softly. "Looks like the little lioness got herself tangled up with a serpent," he whispered, dipping his head until his nose grazed the underside of her jaw.

"Draco, give in to the antidote! Stop fighting it!"

"I wonder," he continued, pulling back slightly, but still keeping his grip secure. His hand around her neck was firm, keeping her in place, but did not block her airways, "how much it kills you not to know the whole truth. Your defense is always up in front of me and it kills you doesn't it? Not knowing how far I've gone, how many lines I've crossed in order to survive," he said in a lilting voice and fevered eyes.

His face was waxy and it stretched over his fine features into a sharp wicked smile. "Go on, Granger, ask me. Ask me what I've done. Ask me how I did it."

Hermione shuddered at the cold breath that caressed her ear. "What — what have you done?"

"All those stories in the papers, the whispering between the Order members, they are children's stories to what I've seen and done," he sneered."I was the Dark Lord's hound. Do you know what that means? Do you know how I was able to climb the ranks and gain the Dark Lord's trust? It's because I did not hesitate, I did not feel remorse. I obeyed every single command to would hunt, capture, and torture muggles and mudbloods just like you."

Hermione shivered at his admission, her own mudblood scar burning on her arm. And yet there was something else in his voice she could not place, the hatred behind the slur not made of hate towards another. No, it was one she recognized — the hate towards oneself.

"Tell me," he began again, looking at her intently underneath his pale lashes, "does this make me a monster? That I feel no remorse? No regret? That I would do it again, especially if it meant my family and I would get out alive?"

His grip started to ease, finally releasing her before he fell back on the bed as if he had been truly spent, as if there was nothing left inside of him. She watched as his body slowly relaxed, the remaining scales crusting and peeling off his skin.

Her fingers were still trembling at his confession. But instead of fear, a dark broken part from the pit that resided inside of her chest called back. All at once, every thought and feeling erupted from the cages she locked them in, forcing her to look at every part of the distorted image of the woman that looked back at her in the mirror — the parts of her capable of choosing one life over the other, the parts of her capable of reducing human beings into numbers and figures, into plans and protocols, necessities for some greater good. In the earlier parts of the war, she had consoled herself in the fact that she had never directly taken a life by her wand. But, what was the difference when she left the enemy, just as human as she was, in the wreckage of her experiments, bleeding from unleashed anger and likely to die alone in the battlefield from the injuries her curses caused. Who had she become? How had it suddenly become so easy to no longer feel, not even anger, revenge. Remorse. What made her any different, made her any more innocent when she too had to, and continued to, claw her way out if it meant another day of survival?

"We're all monsters," she whispered once his eyes finally shut, "not all of the same kind but we are."

She stared at his sleeping form a minute longer before she toppled on her knees, emptying her stomach.

***

Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of pained groaning and rustling. She blinked, the hazy room coming into focus under the dying candlelight on the bedside table. Draco, she realized with a jolt. She had dozed off on the floor beside the bed sometime during the night.

" — no, I don't want to, I don't — " Hermione cursed upon seeing Draco thrashing and clawing at his skin. She had been monitoring him well into the night when her exhaustion finally hit her. The antidote seemed to have worked — where the scales once were was now replaced with pink flesh. His fangs and claws had retracted completely and returned to their normal state.

A pained groan escaped his lips again while Hermione tried to pull his hands back from clawing at his bandages. "I don't know them! Just make it stop! I can't I can't — "

"Draco!" she said desperately. He had not awakened once since he had blacked out after his lucid moment. She gripped his wrists tightly to stop his frantic movements, his skin hot underneath her palms. She noticed his face was flushed and his limp hair was matted with sweat. Sighing in relief that his fever had broken, Hermione conjured a cool rag and laid it on his forehead.

"Shh it'll all be over soon," she murmured. Draco's body sagged, the tension uncoiling as she conjured more cool rags. A moment later his lids lifted slightly, dark dilated eyes zeroing in on her beneath damp lashes.

"Granger... Granger... Hermione..." he mumbled incoherently, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "It's not her... I don't know her..." Draco babbled under his breath, writhing in distress. Hermione double checked that he didn't rip his bandages and then pulled the blanket tighter over his bare torso.

"Calm down. You're alright. Get some rest," she tried to explain, but he kept breathing harshly. Without thinking, she brushed the matted locks on his forehead as she mentally went through a list of potions she would need should his hallucinations escalate.

"Granger!" He shot up, almost knocking her over. His eyes were blown wide open, his hands gripping her forearms, surely to leave bruises. "You need to get out! Bellatrix will be back! I can't, I can't — "

Hermione froze. He was remembering the night at Malfoy Manor. Her scar throbbed and a memory of Malfoy surfaced — Malfoy staring impassively as she spasmed again and again at his feet. Her dark blood spilling on the polished white marble floors, electricity frying her veins, and a high-pitched cackle echoing in morbid symphony with her screams. Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood.

Come, Draco. A woman with white-blond hair, fine features, and cold eyes said. A pale boy with a blank stare, one hand gripping his wand until his knuckles were blue and the other in the woman's hand. Come, Draco.

"Granger! You need to get out! He'll kill my family! I can't — " Draco said hoarsely, bringing her out of the memory. It was done — she had survived. She had made it out.

"Hush, Draco," she said, finally steeling herself. "It's all over. We escaped." His brows furrowed before he sagged in relief.

Once she settled him back down again, she stood up, intending to go make herself a cup of tea in the kitchen to give herself something to focus on instead of the roaring in her blood.

She had only managed to turn when a feverish hand clamped around her wrist. Hermione turned back incredulously to find Draco's eyes on her, looking furious. His body was tense and his attempts to stay awake were causing a vein to tick on his temple.

"Granger... Hermione... I couldn't do anything, I couldn't," he managed. When he refused to let her wrist go, Hermione sat on the bed again, at a loss at what to do.

"... stay... please," he murmured drowsily, still fighting his lids to stay open. He then tugged her wrist firmly and shifted on the narrow bed. After a moment, compelled by some unknown force, Hermione kicked off her shoes and cautiously climbed under the covers. He immediately relaxed, tension leaving his face and body except in the firm warm hand around her wrist.

Because he held such a tight grip, she had no choice but to face him. Her pulse sped up at the proximity, the warmth radiating from his bare chest settling into her rattling bones. Seeming to sense her uncertainty, he pulled her closer until her nose grazed his bare shoulder. He relaxed at the contact, a deep breath leaving his lips and ghosting the shell of her ear like a warm caress.

Hermione blinked, her heart rate finally steadying to the rhythm of his thumb grazing her inner wrist. The candle light seemed to dim further on its own accord and her exhaustion finally caught up with her. Before she surrendered to sleep, she heard a faint murmur in her ear.

"I'm sorry."

***

The easy chirping of birds trickled in from the bedside window causing Draco to stir. He shut his eyes tightly, burrowing his head into something warm and soft that smelt like fresh flowers on a cold morning. His mind felt clearer — he hadn't felt this relaxed in so long. His leg and torso no longer burned and it no longer felt like ice burned through his veins. He had vague memories of what happened after he had run after Granger and tackled her to the ground when the creature lept for her. All he could remember was the pain of its incisors tearing into his skin, ripping his flesh apart as liquid fire entered his veins. The loss of his control — rage, desperation, brown eyes, a warm touch on his shoulder, fingers brushing his forehead, a steady pulse beneath his thumb, and a name, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione pounding in his ears.

We're all monsters, not all of the same kind but we are.

Draco frowned, still keeping his eyes shut as he pulled the warmth closer, spreading his palms and pressing himself closer to it as he breathed out in contentment. All of a sudden, the warmth from beneath him grew rigid and shot out of his arms. Bewildered, Draco opened his bleary eyes and blinked at a mass of curly hair and owlish eyes staring back.

Shit.

"Granger?" he croaked.

Fuck.

"You probably don't remember, but in your delirious state you — "

Draco tried to sit up but winced, clutching his head as his earlier ease immediately vanished. He heard a scuttle and the clinking of bottles before cool glass was pressed to his lips and a brown sludge like substance was forced down his throat. It tasted like mud and rotting eggs. He would have spit it out if it weren't for the immediate relief it brought him.

After managing to get the disgusting potion down, he kept his eyes shut, letting the potion dull his headache. He could feel the throb, but it was no longer a heavy pounding.

"How do you feel?" a tentative voice asked. He opened his eyes fully now, taking in his surroundings and recognizing the shack. He looked up at the witch who was now changing his bandages.

"Alright," he rasped. There was a moment of silence as she reapplied paste on his scars. He simply watched her, leaning back against the headboard and taking the time to sort his memories.

"You were stupid out there," he muttered.

Hermione paused her ministrations, her cheeks reddening. He expected to see a fight in her eyes but when she finally looked at him, all he saw was guilt.

"I know," she said, averting her gaze. "I saw an opportunity and the risk seemed worth it."

"Worth your life?" he asked, angry now.

She simply shrugged her shoulders, her eyes distant.

"From the venom I extracted from you I was able to make an antidote," she replied in that clinical voice he hated so much. "I've already sent Kingsley and Moody the samples and my report. Of course, this may not be the variation they will be using but at least we're prepared — "

A cold hand gripped her elbow, forcing her to face him. He was sitting fully upright now, jaw ticking and glaring at her.

"We're supposed to be partners, Granger," he said with a deadly calm. "You can't go running off being reckless," he hissed.

Hermione looked at his pale exhausted face. He was right. She not only risked her life, but his.

"You're right...." she sighed. "It was foolish of me."

Draco schooled his surprise at her easy admission and simply nodded, prying his hands off of her and lying back down. Hermione resumed her checkup on him, casting a diagnostic spell and jotting down some notes.

"How are your headaches? Do you remember anything from last night?"

Draco's brows furrowed. "I have flashes of memories before I Disapparated. Then when you gave me the antidote, my memories are clearer. Our fight... Before I passed out... But after that I..." Memories and nightmares swirled in his head. He could not distinguish what were dreams and what were real.

Nibbling on the end of her quill, Hermione rummaged through some bottles on the bedside. "Hmm, that isn't a surprise. You seemed to be oscillating between your memories and reality when you went a bit delusional last night, rambling things you didn't mean of course — "

Draco went rigid, noting the conflicted look in her expression. "What did I say?"

The witch averted her gaze, shifting on her feet. "Well, you were quite incoherent really. You were saying things but I'm sure you didn't know what you were saying — "

"What did I say, Hermione," he gritted out. She stilled, looking at him the way she looked at an arithmancy problem or a potion that produced side effects she didn't anticipate.

"You seemed to be remembering that night we were captured at the manor." He paled, stomach twisting. "You kept rambling that you didn't want to do it, that you didn't know us, and that I should try to escape. Then you said... you said you were sorry."

There was a heavy pause, neither knowing what to say.

"Again, it's a pretty common side effect given the heavy dose of potions you were under. Not to mention the venom that was extracted. In fact, when I was decomposing the venom, it showed — "

"I meant it."

Hermione blinked rapidly at him, trying to figure out if she was the one hallucinating things now.

When she didn't reply, Draco cleared his throat and sat up, leveling a stare. "I meant it, Granger. I'm — I'm sorry."

She finally met his gaze, her brown eyes turning into liquid honey under the morning light. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's not like you could have done anything that night aside from not identifying us."

"Not just that night. All of it," he said steadily. His gaze shifted, unable to look at her anymore. "How I treated you at Hogwarts, the first few nights after Scorpius and I arrived... when you first woke me from that nightmare... All of it. " From the periphery of his vision, he noticed her swallow. That night seemed so long ago, when they had screamed at each other, fueled by their assumptions and rage. When he had accused her of staying safely in the safehouses while her friends died on the front lines. And she herself lashed out at him because of their history, the choices he had made, as if he truly had a choice at all.

Draco inhaled deeply, pushing away the instinct to lock away his emotions. "After you woke me from that nightmare, I was angry at the way you looked at me with so much judgement because you have no idea what I went through. It pissed me off every time I saw you with that accusatory look in your eyes — as if I already didn't know how much I fucked up. But, I shouldn't have lashed out at you and said those things."

She paused, her gaze distant and a rueful smile on her face.