Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Until Again	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 15444 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter and do not make any money by using the world of J. K Rowling here.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Hermione smiled softly, staring at the happy faces around her. The wedding had been beautiful; she had even forgiven Mrs. Weasley for all of her nagging as she surveyed the final result of their hard work.
She was tired, she’d had barely a few hours of sleep after her meeting with Draco and had been preparing most of the day for the guests when Scrimgeour had arrived with Dumbledore’s will.
Her stomach leapt again when she thought about the items he’d left behind for them. She hoped the seemingly useless trinkets proved to be an enormous asset for the trouble they caused. It had pointed an even bigger finger at their situation making it harder for the three of them to go into hiding undetected.
She was slightly surprised when the coin burned in the pocket she’d added to her dress and she glanced around herself, making sure no one was looking. Ron was getting them drinks and Harry was fretting over Muriel so she snuck the small coin into her hand and read it underneath the table.
Run.
Her heart stopped. He knew something, something was going to happen. Her head shot up and she felt as if she’d been punched in the chest when the lynx Patronus appeared in the middle of the dance floor and gave its dire warning.
They barely made it out, Hermione nearly in tears as they searched for Ron but he’d found them, grabbing her hand and she aparated them out amongst the confusion. She sent a final plea for her family’s safety.
Hours later, she was staring at the ceiling of the drawing room in Grimmauld Place, unable to sleep, her mind racing. She looked fondly at the freckled fingers entwined with hers and felt the warmth in her chest at his insistence that she sleep on the only cushions. Ron had become so gallant as of late, seeming to be making up for his mistake of dating Lavender. He’d been sweet, attentive, thoughtful, considerate. All the things he used to be, except magnified. In the middle of all the darkness, his pure love for her was a breath of fresh air.
But when she turned back to look at the rafters she remembered the warning she’d received too late. He’d known. He’d known they would be attacked. Was he there? Had he been hidden behind a mask, attacking those she loved?
Her heart clenched in her chest at the thought. She’d spent so much time worrying about him, thinking about their secret affair, that’d she’d barely spent a moment to remember his position in this war.
He was still one of them, still helping them, still working against her. Even if his heart was no longer in it he was playing the game. And every moment he did put the three of them in more danger.
Her heart twisted painfully at the burning in her pocket. Glancing at the boys’ sleeping forms, she eased silently from the room and into the hallway where she lit her wand to read the message:
Are you safe?
She quickly responded:
Safe. What’s happening?
She shivered as she waited for a reply, not sure if he could respond immediately but it seemed he’d be waiting for her.
Dangerous for you. Stay hidden. Love.
She felt frustrated. The coins limited their contact and she knew he couldn’t give much away, but she needed to know what was so dangerous and how they’d taken over the Ministry. Was he a part of it? And the worst part: did she even want to know? She needed to see him, to hear from him what was happening, but she knew it was impossible. She’d understood their standing when they’d begun this. She’d never imagined falling in love with him as hard as she had, but she had to accept that this was the way things were. He was doing the best he could with what he had, and she was doing the same. So she stamped down the impulse to question him and simply reminded herself what was important.
I will. Take care. I love you
.
***
Hermione was still trembling as she lay in her bunk. She couldn’t sleep, fear clawing its way through her as she recalled their narrow escape from the Ministry. It was stupid; she never should have allowed Harry to talk her into it. She’d known they weren’t ready and everything had gone disastrously wrong.
Her heart thudded in her chest when Ron slipped quietly into her bunk. She scooted over to allow him room and eased into his offered arms. She could hear his own heart pounding under her ear as he clumsily rubbed her arm in a soothing gesture. They didn’t speak; she didn’t have the words even if he had. Terror gripped her again as she thought of him on the forest floor bleeding and knew her botched apparition spell was to blame. What if it had been worse? What if he’d lost an arm or-? She shivered and he hugged her tighter.
Tears sprang to her eyes as the coin in her makeshift pocket burned through her nightgown. Draco was calling her, and here she was snuggling up to Ron. Ron was comforting her, and here she was sending secret messages to the enemy.
Gripped by uncertainty, fear, and confusion, her fingers curled in the fabric of Ron’s shirt and only released when Harry stirred outside and Ron kissed her softly on the forehead and with one last squeeze slipped out into the night to take the next shift, sparing her a small smile before exiting the tent.
Quickly, before Harry joined her in the small living space she ducked beneath the covers and lit her wand, digging out the treacherous galleon.
Ministry?
She understood the implication. He’d put the pieces together as she was sure the rest of the Death Eaters had. The three of them missing (though Ron supposedly was home sick with spattergrot, but she highly doubted anyone was fooled by that) and suddenly three imposters try to sneak a bunch of people being questioned about their blood status out of the Ministry. Even now she shook her head at their rash decision.
But Draco should know better than to ask her. She knew he was worried, but the less he knew the less dangerous it was for the both of them. She tapped her coin and wrote a hasty reply, listening to the boys’ low voices outside the tent.
Safe. You?
She clutched the coin to her chest, awaiting his reply, wondering where he was, wondering what had happened when they’d made their escape. Had the Death Eaters had a meeting about them? Were they even now sending out waves of search parties around the country to hunt them up? She worried once more about her spellwork, hoping it was enough to keep them hidden. And then she worried about those on the outside of their protective bubble, those who might be questioned, those who would be innocently tortured for information.
The coin turned hot in her fingers and she turned it over, reading his reply:
Safe. Too dangerous. Don’t risk.
Oh, Draco. If you only knew.
***
Soaking wet and sobbing Hermione gripped Ron’s blankets tighter around her, his scent permeating her senses. He’d left them. Left them alone. They’d failed in his eyes. And he thought she was staying because she preferred Harry but didn’t he know after all this time that it had always been him?
But maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t always him. The coin she snuck around with was proof enough of that. Her reluctance to get close to Ron was the reason he’d left. But he didn’t understand it wasn’t because she didn’t care, it was because she was gripped by fear all the time: fear of losing him, of losing Harry, of being caught, of Draco and her relationship being found out...
But he had to know what she felt about him. Wasn’t it obvious when she turned to him in the middle of the night when Harry was on watch? When she dealt him the larger portion of food always, her hand lingering when she passed him the bowl? She knew these small gestures weren’t enough; they weren’t enough to keep him, to break through the gloom of the locket, hunger, and the frustration surrounding them all of never knowing what the next step was.
And as if he knew, as if on cue, the coin made its presence known. Her sobs redoubled as she warred with herself. How could she be upset that Ron had left when he had no idea of her treachery? It was so much worse than preferring Harry…
She rocked herself, wracked with indecision. Draco wasn’t here, he wasn’t fighting beside her. He was fighting against her. Every day the danger grew, innocent people were being slaughtered and their families were in mortal peril, Mrs. Weasley’s clock attesting to that fact. Her entire life was struggling to defend those like herself, and yet in the middle of the night when no one was looking she sent secret messages to a Death Eater.
Every night her decision to engage in this relationship with Draco faltered ever more. What had she been thinking? Had it simply been loneliness that had pushed her into his arms? She’d been weak, she knew, she should never have kissed him back, should never have pursued him, allowed their confused hormones to take over. She’d been so stupid. Draco would never understand what she’d been through with Ron and Harry, he could never understand the danger they were all in, fighting for their lives every single day as they fought for the lives of the rest of the wizarding world. Why hadn’t he joined them, why couldn’t he see that every day he stayed that he was fighting against her, helping Voldemort to take over and destroy everything?
Anger boiled up and she was shocked when she realized that it was not a result of the locket which was resting on Harry’s chest. She trembled violently and felt as if her entire world was falling down around her. Ron was right, they were no closer to finding the next Horcrux or destroying the one they had. He’d left her, screaming in the rain, he’d left them, and now it was just she and Harry against the world, trying to solve Voldemort’s riddles.
Ron was gone. Draco was fighting against her. The only person in this entire world she could trust was sleeping in the bunk behind her and he could very well be the death of her.
For the first time she ignored the burning in her pocket.
***
Shaking from head to foot Hermione wrung excess water from the rag in her hand into the bucket beside her. She bathed Harry’s sweaty forehead once more as he continued to mumble in his sleep. He was calmer now, the thrashing subsiding. She sighed in utter exhaustion and her hand trembled when she rubbed her tired eyes and shoved her sticky hair from her eyes.
Terror racked through her over and over as she remembered blood red eyes…
Stop it, you’re fine, you’re both fine, you made it out…
Tears sprang to her eyes when she looked once again at the broken wand on the floor. Guilt assailed her as she attempted to recount just when it had happened, but she couldn’t. It had all bene a blur, everything had happened so fast…he was coming, Harry was dragging her, there was screaming, she used a Blasting Charm in desperation…
That must have been it. She hung her head in shame. Harry would never forgive her.
He cried out again and Hermione snapped out of her selfish musings and re-dipped the cloth, laying it on his fevered head and placing her hand over his comfortingly.
The coin burned in her pocket again. She had no idea how many times it had gone off since they’d been back, since she’d hovered Harry into his bunk and severed the locket from his chest. Every few minutes he’d sent her a message, but she couldn’t bear it, not now, not when Harry needed her so…
With every searing reminder of her betrayal she wanted to die. Didn’t he understand? Every day he was with them put her in ever more danger. She and Harry nearly lost their lives. How could she ever face him again? How could she look at him, touch him, when he was helping the man who so nearly murdered her?
She hadn’t responded to him in weeks, not since the night Ron left. She was completely distraught; she’d lost all sight of what she was doing. How could she love someone who backed the one man they were trying to kill?
But what if he didn’t back Voldemort anymore? What if he was just like her, stuck in a horrible situation with no way out?
Except she did. She could leave Harry. Just like Ron. Her hand tightened over Harry’s at the thought. No. She couldn’t. Would never. She was all he had. And in turn, he was all she had. She’d noticed his touching attempts to cheer her after Ron had left, how he’d taken extra shifts, made her tea, pretended not to hear her cry. He had no idea how to console her because he had no idea how deep her pain ran.
It burned again. She could feel the desperation. And her heart broke. He’d never asked her to join him. Though it wasn’t the same, she knew that he gave his love to her unconditionally. She hadn’t. She was punishing him for his choice to stay by his family.
She was so torn, she had no idea what was right or wrong anymore. He was right to stand by his parents and protect them in any way he could. Hadn’t she done the same? But he was wrong to stand by Voldemort, to help him in whatever way, to fight against her. Didn’t he see that’s what he was doing?
Harry screamed again and she jumped, tears streaming down her face as she attempted to calm him. His thrashing went on and on as she sobbed in defeat, unsure of what to do. Nothing she did helped, she didn’t know enough about healing.
She needed air, she needed to breathe, she needed to think clearly. She ran from the room, hating herself for it and crumpled just outside the tent where the snow swallowed her. Frigid air whipped against her face, freezing her tears in place.
She was so alone. So alone and so scared.
She broke.
She needed him.
Scrambling, she dug out the coin and sobbed when she read the words.
So scared. Please be safe. Love.
He was just as scared as she. She had no idea what was happening outside her and Harry’s small world, had no idea what he was going through. What if he was being tortured? What if he’d defected? What if he’d been begging her for help and she’d been ignoring him this whole time?
Safe. Scared. Need you.
She knew she was being weak, but she didn’t care. She needed him; she needed to know she hadn’t just made everything up, that he truly cared for her, that her memories weren’t just dreams.
Too dangerous. Tomorrow, try. Love.
She couldn’t hide her disappointment but rationality intervened. She couldn’t leave Harry, not now, not when he needed her so. Maybe if he was better tomorrow…
But there was no way. He’d know if she left. She would never be able to get away undetected.
Impossible. Just miss you. Love.
Her body grew numb with the cold but she didn’t move. She deserved this pain. She waited anxiously for his reply before returning to Harry and taking up her vigil as the words burned across her mind.
Stay strong. Not forever. Until then.
***
Hermione stared at the Draught of Living Death sitting next to her on the bedside table that Fleur had left after she’d checked her for the last time. She was so beyond exhausted the mere thought of reaching up to grab the bottle was out of the question. Her body raged with pain, every muscle felt as if she’d be ripped apart on a rack, every limb torn from her body, her head pounded with mallets. No piece of her was free from it, thanks to Bellatrix’s curses. The gashes made by the chandelier had been healed, mere strips of angry red now.
She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. She was out of them. The agony of the last hours had breached a part of her she’d yet to see. She was numb. It was too much to take. She couldn’t take anymore.
Fear. Being snatched and knowing there was no way to fight her way out.
Pain. Being brutally tortured to unconsciousness.
Grief. Burying Dobby in the garden after he’d given his life for them.
Sorrow. Watching Harry die a little bit more with yet another loss.
Uncertainty. Not knowing if the Hallows were true, not knowing if the wand would have secretly helped.
Love. Opening her eyes expecting to see Bellatrix and instead looking into the clear blue concerned ones of Ron’s, hearing from Fleur how he’d rescued her, pulled her from the wreckage of the chandelier and carried her to the cottage, not letting anyone help, screaming for Fleur to heal her, tears leaking down his face in fear.
Betrayal.
This last was more than she could bear. It was more than any of the others combined. She’d been wrong. He hadn’t changed. Not at all. He’d sold them out. He told them who she was, watched as his aunt tortured her even as she tried to catch his eye, had silently pled with him to step in. But he’d looked away, done nothing. He’d allowed them to carry on, had done their bidding by fetching the goblin, and after she’d passed out from the agony, the boys said that he fought them, Harry having to wrench the wands from his grip.
He’d fought them. He’d actually fought them. He’d made his choice.
And it wasn’t her.
She was stupid. So, so stupid.
For the first time since he’d pressed it into her hand the coin wasn’t on her. It was still in her jeans pocket, undetectable thanks to her spellwork so it had not been taken by the snatchers. Her eyes glanced to the neatly piled clothes on the chair next to the vanity. It was there. Treacherous.
The door opened a crack and Ron smiled down at her.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
He slipped into the room. He was in his pajamas. He knelt next to her bed and brushed back her hair, a slight tremor in his hand.
“How are you?”
“I’m alright,” she lied. “How are you?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “Fine, I guess. Not the one who got tortured.”
She shuddered at the memory and he was instantly apologetic.
“It’s fine, Ron, really. You saved me.”
He blushed. “Well, technically it was Dobby who-”
“No, Ron. It was you.”
She didn’t tell him that she was also speaking metaphorically. Her heart tripped in her chest when she saw how embarrassed he was. But it was true. He’d come back to them because of her. He’d proven to her by trying to take her place when Bellatrix picked her for questioning that he was the one she should be with. Not the coward who’d stood by and watched her dying at the hands of his aunt.
“You should take your medicine,” he mumbled, nodding to the bottle beside her bed. She nodded and he helped her sit up. She drank the foul smelling liquid and felt its effects nearly immediately.
“Stay with me?”
He seemed to realize he’d been forgiven and gave her a goofy half smile and rounded the bed to slip in next to her. She laid her head on his chest and he held her close.
She turned her back to the insistently burning coin.
***
XOXO
RynStar15
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Until Again