Chapter Text
Somewhere far outside her mind, Hermione heard screaming. It was muffled and distant and full of pain. Was it coming from her? Her throat felt raw enough that she’d believe it did.
Echoes of more shouting hovered over the fog in her mind, but ones with more urgency and anger. She somehow knew they were directed at her, and it should have frightened her, but it didn’t. All because of a presence in her mind—one so familiar, and she knew it was the reason she felt no pain.
You’re okay, I’ll protect you, I’ll protect you, a voice chanted in her mind. And she believed it.
Her body was twitching, convulsing, and her muscles were clenched tight. Hermione couldn’t control it. Her vision was blurred and it shook with her erratic movements. At one point, she was staring up at the ceiling, and she thought the decor looked familiar. Why was that?
Finally, her body stopped moving. She was lying on her side now, and she saw a woman with wild, curly, black hair shouting at a man with long, blond hair. The woman was lifting up her arm, marred an ugly mark, while the man was trying to stop her, arguing and pointing at Hermione on the ground.
Hermione realized, after they summoned a battered goblin, that they hadn’t been pointing at her, really, but at the Sword of Gryffindor, lying not too far away from her. Dread flooded through her, and she watched helplessly as they roughly interrogated the creature.
Hermione couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the wild panic present on the woman’s face worried her. Fear made people desperate.
A loud crash then sounded somewhere below, causing the duo to whip their heads around to the door beside a fireplace. Hermione vaguely remembered Harry and Ron being dragged away through there, kicking and screaming. Then a scream, low and guttural errupted.
“Draco!” the woman screeched, “Make sure that mudblood doesn’t escape. Lucius, with me. Apparently, the bloody rat can’t even do his one job.” She whipped around without waiting for an answer. She cast a Bombarda, blowing the door off its hinges before disappearing below.
She heard a couple of frantic footsteps come towards her, then she was lifted to a sitting position by a pair of arms. She raised her head weakly and met a pair of stormy grey eyes, full of panic. Hermione wanted to cry at the sight.
“Dra… co,” Hermione croaked, “I—”
“Shh, love, don’t speak.” He helped her to her feet so gently. Hermione tried batting his hands away in irritation. He was being too soft with her, and it would raise suspicion. Although Bellatrix had gone, there were still Death Eaters hovering nearby, and the last they needed were them reporting back that the Malfoys were helping a dirty, little mudblood. It would blow their cover.
“Work with me, love,” he said, as she stumbled. He caught her by the waist, pulling her to his chest.
“They’re watching, Draco,” Hermione murmured, trying to pull away, but she was too weak, and eventually she succumbed somewhat to leaning against him.
“At this point, I don’t fucking care,” he growled out, “I’m going to get you out of here, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
But Hermione wasn’t having it, she positioned her back to his front, acting like he had her in a hold. He sighed, but played along. The remaining snatchers were murmuring to each other. She spotted Greyback watching them with a feral glint in his eye, and she shivered.
At the far end of the room, Narcissa had a white knuckle grip around the chair she was holding, as if she would topple if she let go. Hermione was relieved the witch seemed relatively unharmed since she last saw her. Narcissa caught her eye and nodded at Hermione stiffly.
“Get away from her!” A voice rang out. Hermione’s head whipped to the door as Ron, with Harry close behind him, came running towards them.
“Stupefy!” Ron yelled. Hermione made a sound in protest.
Draco threw up a wordless protego before it hit them, allowing Hermione to breathe a sigh of relief. What was he thinking? Even if he did hit Draco, it was likely he’d also hit her in the process with her being so close to him.
The room then erupted into chaos. The snatchers started throwing spells at Ron and Harry, which the former luckily dodged and the latter threw up their own shields.
“Don’t kill the boy! He belongs to the Dark Lord,” Lucius came running out, followed quickly by Bellatrix, who looked murderous. She turned her wand to face Ron.
“Expelliarmus,” Harry roared, at Bellatrix. Her wand leapt from her hand into his, then a quick Stupefy dealt with Lucius, as he was launched back. He threw the wand at Ron, who caught it deftly before turning to the Death Eater approaching him.
Hermione watched as they blocked curses from all directions, taking some of their opponents out, but too soon, Harry and Ron found themselves outnumbered and surrounded. Bellatrix snarled, “Drop your wands, drop them right now, or her blood will be spilled, and we will see how filthy her blood really is.”
Bellatrix had moved in between the two boys and Hermione and Draco. A knife glinted in her hands, and she raised it towards Hermione’s figure. Harry and Ron’s eyes darted to where Hermione was standing. Draco had lifted his wand to her neck in the midst of the fight, making it look like the dark side had the advantage. She could feel Draco’s heart racing against her back, and his magic rushing in anxiety through their bond.
“Good job, Draco,” purred Bellatrix, as she stalked towards them. “At least one Malfoy is good for something. Now bring her here, Draco.”
Draco tightened her grip on her. Hermione could hear his shallow breaths, but it wasn’t as frantic as she expected. He had some sort of plan. He made hesitant steps forward, pushing her closer to Harry and Ron, instead of his aunt. His arm was a vice around her, but she was grateful for it. It was the only thing grounding her at the moment.
“Now,” said Bellatrix, turning back to her friends, “Cissy, tie these little heroes up, and Greyback can take the little mudblood. I’m sure he’ll find a good use for her.”
Before the last word could even escape her mouth, however, a loud grinding noise echoed above them. They all looked up in time to see the chandelier sway once before crashing down towards them.
She felt Draco push her out of the way. She fell backwards out of the range of the falling structure, but screamed when she saw Draco had just barely cleared it. Shards of glass flew through the air, piercing his skin along his face and neck. A piece of the chandelier had broken off and slashed his calf. Blood soaked through his dark trousers, and she heard Draco groan in pain.
“Draco!” a yell escaped her, but it was drowned out by the chaos. Spells had begun flying across the room again, mixed in with frantic screams. Ron and Harry reached her, pulling her out of the way.
“Protego!” Ron yelled, blocking a red curse through the air.
“My wand. Do you have it?” Hermione scrambled. They had taken all their wands when they arrived back at the Manor.
Harry shook his head. He looked around quickly, spotting Draco then on the ground not far from them.
“Expelliarmus!” Harry shot the spell at Draco, and his Hawthorn wand flew through the air. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, knowing Draco needed his wand if he wanted to survive in the Manor, but Harry gave her a pointed look and pressed the Hawthorne into her hands. The wand instantly recognized her, and she took it begrudgingly.
Then, Harry flicked a quick “Stupefy!” at a feral Greyback launching himself at them, making him slide across the broken crystals littering the ground.
“Dobby!” Bellatrix’s screech echoed in the room, “You? How care you? You filthy little monkey. I ought to punish you for defying your masters.”
“Dobby has no master,” the elf declared, “Dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”
“Ron, GO NOW!” Harry yelled.
Ron ran across the room to the fallen goblin with the sword, grabbed both, then apparated. Harry rushed over to Hermione, Dobby close behind, and grabbed her hand.
“Harry wait—” Hermione’s eyes were still on Draco, who was trying to get up in the chaos, but Harry ignored her. He seized Dobby’s hand, then hers and spun on the spot.
But not before Bellatrix launched her knife at them, aiming straight and true at her. The last thing she saw was Draco launching himself forward, blocking the knife’s trajectory and toppling into the trio, before the world turned dark.
* * *
They landed on a sandy beach. Hermione could hear the waves crash along the shore, and in any other situation, she would have been excited. It had been a long time since she saw the ocean. But the only thing on her mind was Draco.
When they landed, she saw his body land with them. Everything hurt and the events that happened in the Manor were catching up to her. She knew she only had a couple of minutes before her body would go into total shock.
“Harry! Hermione! Are you alright?” Ron’s voice pierced through. He had landed not far from where they were and was rushing over to them. Then he stopped, seeing the extra body within their group, and spat out. “Blood hell, is that Malfoy? Fucking tosser followed us, didn’t he?”
Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco. When he opened his mouth, a spell clearly on the tip of his tongue, Hermione saw red. With the last of her strength, she burst to her feet and rushed toward the redhead.
“No!” her voice screeched. She tumbled into a surprised Ron, pushing him away. She vaguely noticed Harry following behind her as she knelt beside Draco.
He was curled up within himself on his side, and Hermione gently turned him over to his back. He let out a whimper, and she gasped at the amount of blood he was covered in. His face and neck bled freely from the chandelier’s glass. He thankfully wasn’t splinched from the way he had spontaneously travelled with them, to which she breathed a sigh of relief until she saw the handle of a knife sticking out his stomach.
“Hermione! Get away from him! He’s dangerous!” cried Ron.
She felt him tug her arm away, but she struggled out his grip. “No! Get off, Ronald. Go and get help now!”
“What do you—”
She whirled around to see Harry, wide-eyed, standing next to a stunned Dobby. “Harry, please!”
Harry shook himself out of his stupor, “Dobby—”
“Yes, Dobby will get help!” the elf squeaked, then apparated without another word.
“Her… mi…” Draco groaned out, and Hermione turned back around, gasping.
“Draco,” she whispered, “Please, hold on.” She grabbed his hand, clammy and covered in dried blood. She brushed a few blood soaked locks out of his eyes, which were slightly cracked open.
“I’m… sorry.”
Hermione let out a sob, tears running down her face now, “Don’t you dare, Draco Malfoy. If you’re really sorry, stay with me. Please.”
“Hermione!” called a familiar voice. Hermione looked up in relief to see Andromeda running towards him, frantic. Her brown curls, so similar to her sister's, made her almost cringe, but her face full of worry and panic reminded her that they were out.
But they weren’t out of the woods yet.
“Aunt Andromeda, please,” she whispered. “Is he—Is he—” dying, her mind finished the thought, bringing along a wave of terror. Her breaths came out quick and fast. No, no, she couldn’t lose control now.
“Breathe, Hermione, breathe,” Andromeda knelt down beside her, “He’ll be okay, but I need you to calm down. Remember how to search for the bond?” At Hermione’s nod, she continued, “Can you do that for me now? Find it and hold tight to it.”
She frantically searched for Draco’s bond within her, finding the familiar pulse. It was weak, oh, so weak, but it was there. Her breaths slowed as relief washed over her. He was alive. For now.
“That’s it,” Andromeda soothed, as she ran diagnostics with practiced strokes of her wand. “I’ve got him, love, don’t worry. But we must act quickly. Harry, help me levitate him into the cottage. Now!”
Harry startled from his worried gaze and moved to follow the instructions. With a few swishes, Draco’s body floated gently and towards a building she just noticed. It was a decently sized cottage. Shell Cottage, she realized. She saw the goblin standing near the front door with the familiar faces of Fleur and Bill peaking through.
Andromeda turned towards Ron, “You! You’ll need to levitate Hermione.”
“No, I can walk. I need to know if he’s okay.” Hermione protested, but Andromeda shot her a look.
“You’ve been through a lot today, Hermione. What you need is rest. You are no use to him in your current state,” she barked, but softened her tone at the younger witch’s expression. “It’s alright, dear,” she kissed her forehead softly, “Rest now, I’ve got Draco.”
Hermione felt her body relax, the witch’s words giving her so much relief. She nodded tiredly, before her vision blurred, then her body went limp.
* * *
“Gently, now, through here!” Andromeda’s voice pierced through the fog in her mind, “Put Hermione beside him.”
“What!?” yelled Ron, “If you think I’m letting ‘Mione anywhere near—”
“Do it, now! We do not have time for this.”
“But—”
“Ron, do it,” Harry’s voice said tiredly, “Malfoy will hardly be able to do anything in his state anyways.”
She heard Ron grumble, then her body hitting a soft mattress. She felt a brush of warmth near her side, and she nearly sighed. The bond between them pulsed once, then twice. So weak, but alive, and that’s all she needed to know. It echoed with warmth and lulled her to a deep sleep.
* * *
“—letting ‘Mione stay beside that Death Eater scum for one more minute, you’re out of your bloody mind.”
The next time Hermione’s mind was lucid, she heard Ron’s voice rattle in her mind. Her body felt heavy and sore. She tried to wiggle her toes or open her eyes, but found she couldn’t. She did feel, however, a familiar weight of a hand laced through her left.
A heavy sigh, “As I’ve said before, Ron, it’s better if they’re together. It helps with their healing—”
“What the bloody hell are you on about? They can heal separately—”
“—and we couldn’t separate them even if we wanted to,” the voice sounded tired, as if they’ve run through the same argument before.
“—what a bunch of bull—”
“Ron, please,” another voice pitched in, “If Andromeda says it’s for the best, I’m inclined to trust her.”
“Oh, not you too…”
The voices faded, and she fell into the lure of sleep once more.
* * *
The next time she woke, she managed to open her eyes. Early morning light flooded through the window, bathing her in a golden glow. Her body still felt heavy and sluggish, but she managed some movement this time, her right hand twitching. Her left was still laced with a pale one, and she almost sobbed in relief at the sight of Draco beside her.
His breaths were even as he was lost to a deep slumber, and his face calm and smooth. Untroubled. It had been a long time since she saw him like this—looking like he was at peace. The memories of Draco getting injured flooded back to her, and she felt herself grip with panic. Her eyes darted to his stomach, almost expecting to see a knife handle jutting out, but he was covered in blankets. Her fingers twitched with the need to check, when a voice broke her out of her worry.
“He’s alright, Hermione.”
Hermione twisted her head to see Andromeda sitting in a settee near the end of the bed. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out in a croak. The older witch immediately stood up and offered her a glass of water from the nightstand.
She took the glass from her once finished, and then smoothed her hair back. “Get some more rest, dear.”
“Aunt Andromeda,” Hermione rasped. Her mind felt like it was going a mile a minute with all of the thoughts racing through her head, “Uncle Ted, we saw him—and we helped him get away—but I don’t know if he ever made it—”
Andromeda hushed her softly, holding her hand gently. Even in the low light of the room, she could see the tears start to glisten in the older woman’s eyes. The sadness on her face was all Hermione needed to see—to know that Ted was no longer with them. Her heart cracked, remembering all the kindness that Ted had ever shown her. Hermione sat in silence, grief overtaking her heart. There were no words to offer that could make things better. Maybe if she had been faster, stronger, smarter. Andromeda must have seen this on her face because she squeezed her hand.
“You’ve done more than enough, my dear,” Andromeda whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes, “My Ted was so proud of you and Draco—I am proud of you both.”
“But—”
“Please,” she said gently, “Rest now, Hermione. We’ll talk more when you’ve recovered.”
Hermione nodded numbly, leaning back against the pillows, but couldn’t stop the burning question from escaping her mouth. “What about Cissa? Lucius?”
“From what I know, they are alive,” Andromeda assured her, “The Order is making plans to extract them from the Manor. With any luck, they’ll be here within the next week, and I’ll have my younger sister again.”
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, closing her eyes in relief. She held tight to Andromeda’s hand even as she felt the threat of sleep coming for her. With her other hand, she found Draco’s and intertwined their fingers together.
“We’re going to win this,” Hermione whispered, vowing to herself, to the witch beside her, and to those who might listen from beyond, “I promise you, Uncle Ted.”
She heard a soft hum of agreement before she succumbed once again to the darkness.
* * *
A gentle hand sweeping locks off her face was what woke her up next. The gesture was so tender and hesitant that it made her heavy heart squeeze. Her eyes fluttered open and locked onto grey ones, full of guilt, grief, and sorrow. Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes as she remembered everything that had happened the past few days.
They sat like that for a while, each of them swimming in their own misery and pain. Their hands were stil lintertwined, like letting go would mean losing themselves and never being able to find their way back. Then, with her free hand, she raised it to cup his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes briefly.
“I’m sorry,” his voice was a rasp.
Hermione brushed her thumb over his cheek, shaking her head, but he couldn’t see.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione, I couldn’t do anything more to protect you,” his voice cracked and tears started streaming down his face.
Hermione shook her head again, “No, Draco, no. You did everything. You shielded my mind. That was enough.”
Hermione remembered her body thrashing on the floor helplessly, uselessly, and she also remembered Draco’s magic enforcing her occulmancy walls, numbing her to the pain. Although her body surely felt the consequences of Bellatrix’s actions, in the moment, it felt like a distant nightmare. And she was grateful.
“And you jumped in front of that knife.”
“Not enough,” Draco leaned his forehead against hers, “Not enough.”
“You almost died, you stupid, stupid wizard,” she cried, tears flowing down her face.
He kissed her tears away, “I saw it—it was going towards you. I couldn’t bear to not know if it hit you, and if you’d survive it.”
Draco gasped, his body trembling with the weight of the unwanted thought.
“I’m here now,” she whispered, knowing that the same fear had her in its claws earlier, “It’s over. It’s over. We’re here.”
Draco drew her closer as if seeing her wasn’t enough to believe she was with him, and she held him, needing him too. It was like this that they kept each other afloat in all their sadness until they were both pulled back into the oblivion of sleep.
* * *
“—absolutely barmy, thinking it’s okay ‘Mione’s here with that foul git. Who does she think she is?”
“Ron, please, drop it. We clearly don’t have the whole story here—”
“So what?” Ron snapped, “‘Mione would never lower herself to consort with a bloody Death Eater, let alone Draco sodding Malfoy. He’s been awful to her for years!”
Harry sighed, “As far as we know, Ron.”
“What are you trying to say?” Ron gritted out.
“I’m just saying I think we should hear her out.”
Ron scoffed, “Like hell, what if she’s been imperiused or worse?”
“Ron, she’s been with us for the past 10 months. I’m sure we would have noticed if she were—”
“And I’m just saying we should’ve left Malfoy out on that beach when we had a chance. He’s better off dead—”
“No,” Hermione rasped.
Both heads whipped towards her with a gasp. Harry and Ron rushed to her side. Ron immediately grabbed her hand, but she yanked it back.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
“‘Mione—” Ron started, shocked.
“Don’t you care, Ronald,” she ground out, tears were threatening to spill over her cheeks, “Don’t you dare say that about Draco again.”
“I told you, Harry,” Ron said, turning towards his best friend, “Something’s clearly wrong with her—”
“Nothing is wrong with me, Ronald,” she hissed, “I just don’t appreciate—”
Hermione descended into a series of violent coughs. “Hermione!” Harry shouted in alarm. He spotted a glass of water on the bedside and handed it to her. Hermione smiled at him weakly with thanks.
The door swung open, and Andromeda rushed in, most likely hearing the commotion. Her eyes darted to each person in the room—from Ron to Harry to Draco then Hermione. Hermione noticed that Andromeda’s eyes were a bit red and puffy, but the older witch gave her a little smile. “Hermione, you’re awake. You look much better, dear. How are you feeling?”
“Tired still, sore,” Hermione admitted, “But better than before.”
Andromeda nodded, “Good girl. Dobby!”
A loud crack sounded, and the elf appeared. He took one look at Hermione before he let out a huge wail, “Hermione Granger is alive! Oh, Dobby is so happy. Dobby was so worried.”
Andromeda gave the elf a small smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Yes, Dobby, Hermione’s recovering very well. Would you mind bringing her something to eat? I think Fleur had some soft foods prepared.”
“Yes, yes, Dobby will do,” his ears flapped with his vigorous nod. He gave a watery smile to Hermione before apparating again.
A few minutes later, Hermione found herself nibbling some bread while a beef stew cooled on a tray in front of her. After Andromeda was satisfied with the progress of Hermione’s recovery, she walked over to Draco’s side of the bed to check on him.
Hermione watched both Draco and his aunt carefully, her forehead creasing as Andromeda checked on his wounds.
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Andromeda chuckled, “I can practically feel your worry from here. He’s doing just fine. The knife wound was ugly but didn’t hit anything vital. His scratches were easy enough to heal, and he should have full functionality of his leg in the next couple of weeks. All things considered, he’s making a speedy recovery, and especially with his soulbound by his side, you’ve been helping him along.”
Tears pricked her eyes, Hermione nodded, “Thank you.” She lifted Draco’s pale hand and pressed it to her lips.
“Soulbound?” Ron’s voice echoed from the settee near the corner of the room.
Both witches' heads swiveled towards him. Hermione had forgotten Harry and Ron were still here. Ron was gaping at her in disbelief. His face was growing redder by the minute, and she knew things were about to explode. Harry, however, was suppressing a smile—something she glared at—before turning back to the redhead.
“Yes,” she said stiffly, “Soulbound. As in, when two souls bind their magic during a ceremony of marriage—”
“I know what a bloody soulbound ceremony is, ‘Mione,” he snapped, “Are you fucking saying you’re soulbound to Draco sodding Malfoy, right now? Are you mental?”
“Yes, Ronald, Draco is my husband,” she narrowed her eyes, “And no, Ronald, I am not mental, as you put it—”
“Like hell you aren’t! He’s a bloody Death Eater, Hermione—”
“No, he isn’t.”
“—Are you that desperate for dick or something, you’d spread your legs—”
“Watch it, Weasel, or I’ll hex you where you stand,” growled a voice from her side.
“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed, whipping her head around. Draco groaned in pain as he shifted, and Andromeda was instantly there offering him a pain potion, which he accepted without complaint.
“How are you feeling, dear?” His aunt helped him sit up, fluffing his pillows to support his injured torso.
“Fantastic. Superb. I should get more knife wounds often if it means I don’t have to live in that cursed Manor anymore.”
His aunt rolled her eyes, while Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm, chiding, “Don’t even joke about that!”
“Ow, witch, I’m injured. Show some care for the weak, would you?” He covered his arm in mock pain.
“I’m serious!” Hermione felt tears prick her eyes, “You were in really bad shape when we arrived. There was a moment where I thought you wouldn’t make it.”
Draco’s face softened, and he wrapped an arm about her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple, “I’m sorry for worrying you, love. But I won’t be sorry for taking that hit instead of you. I’ll be damned if I let Bellatrix hurt you again after what she did.”
Hermione sniffled, gently wrapping an arm around his neck and burrowing her face in the spot between his neck and his shoulder. She was surrounded by his green apple scent, and she ached from the familiarity. She would never let him go again.
“What the bloody hell is going on here?”
Four pairs of eyes darted towards where Ron was still standing in disbelief. His face was now almost as red as his hair. He was clenching his fists so hard, Hermione was worried it would pierce his skin and he’d bleed all over the smooth wooden floors. She hoped he wouldn’t. She had seen enough blood to last the rest of her life.
“It’s as they said, Ron,” Andromeda spoke up from their bedside. Hermione was relieved. She had no more energy to argue with Ron. “Draco and Hermione are soulbound or in muggle terms, I believe the word is soulmates but with more formality. I had you put Hermione next to Draco in the healing process as often soulbound couples are able to strength and heal each other’s cores the closer they are. It was vital they supported one another, especially during the serious injuries they sustained.”
Ron curled his upper lip at the medic before flicking his eyes over to Hermione. She flinched, seeing the hatred and disgust swimming in his eyes. She hadn’t wanted him to find out this way, although she knew that when he did, his reaction would have been the same or worse.
It wasn’t a secret that Ron’s hatred for Draco ran deep, even deeper than the petty squabbles at Hogwarts. The Weasleys and Malfoys had never gotten along for generations. Hermione had hoped that maybe Ron’s friendship with Hermione would be enough to jump through this hurdle. But as he got redder in the face, and his jaw clenched so tight she could practically hear his teeth cracking, Hermione knew this wouldn’t be an easy hurdle to jump.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Ron gritted out, “Tell me you didn’t lower yourself to that fucking scum, a pathetic excuse of a wizard. He’s a bully, Hermione, a fucking—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, Ronald,” Hermione shouted, feeling her blood rush to her ears, “Listen here, I do not have to justify my reasoning to you. My relationship is none of your business. Draco is the one I chose, and with Draco, I will stand by him. So if you have a problem with that, you can sod right off until you learn to grow up.
“I’m sorry that we had to hide this from you, but we had good reasons to. It was a matter of safety during an unforgivable war, and I will not apologize for prioritizing my loved ones and their safety first.”
Ron glared at her. Then noticed that Harry was being uncommonly quiet. “And you? You’re okay with this? Malfoy’s been a right awful git to you since first year, and you’ve nothing to say?”
Harry darted his eyes between Hermione and Ron, a little lost for words. Hermione felt no pity for him. She had seen from the corner of her eye that he had been looking on with amusement just a second ago. He was enjoying this—the foul git. Well, Hermione huffed, she would be glad to turn Ron’s ire on him.
“Er,” Harry swallowed, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Actually, Ron, Malfoy and I have had the chance to settle our differences. I don’t really have an issue with him anymore. He’s actually apologized for his behaviour, if you can believe it. I thought the world had to be ending! HA! And ‘Mione’s quite right that their relationship is none of our business. But, I will say she’s been very happy from what I’ve seen, and you know ‘Mione’s like a sister to me, and I’d rather not get in the way of her happiness—”
“Are you saying you bloody knew?” Ron exploded.
Harry flinched. “Well, only for the past year or so, but I haven’t the whole time. I kinda suspected they were together in sixth year, what with all of ‘Mione’s sneaking around, and then I finally caught them near the end of the year. You guys weren’t exactly subtle.” He looked at them pointedly then snickered, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
Draco mumbled under his breath, something about invisibility cloaks and nosy gits.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Ron’s face expressed his betrayal, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt.
“It wasn’t his secret to tell,” said Hermione firmly. “Don’t blame Harry. We asked him to keep it quiet.”
Ron's shoulders deflated a bit as he ground out, “Since when have you been going behind our backs then?”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at his tone, but replied, “Since we were married or since we’ve been together?”
“Either, both.”
Hermione lifted her chin, “We’ve been together since fourth year, right after the Yule Ball. We married over the summer after sixth year, about a month before I arrived at The Burrow.”
“You said you were in Australia before you came,” Ron accused.
“I was. We were. We went there for our honeymoon.” Hermione trailed off sadly, remembering another event that happened in that country that left her parents no longer hers.
Draco squeezed her hand in comfort, and she squeezed back, thankful that he was there. Back then, and now.
“I still don’t understand,” Ron bit out. Some of his anger and disbelief had faded away, but Hermione could tell he was still riled up and upset. “Malfoy was a real bully to you. How could you forgive him? How did this even happen? How did I—” He broke off, but Hermione understood. How did I not notice?
“He was a bully,” Hermione said firmly, “But he apologized for it, and we decided to move on.”
“I can’t do this.” Ron said, then he turned and stormed out the door.
Hermione deflated, then looked at her bespectacled friend, “I’m really sorry, Harry. Ron’s right to be upset, but I hoped to tell him when things were a bit calmer.”
Harry shook his head, giving her a small smile, “He’ll come around eventually, I’m sure. Although, I would also like to hear the story of how this all started. I’ve only heard a bit of it.”
Hermione nodded and smiled. “I’d love to.”
“Get some rest, ‘Mione, I’m going to find Ron.” He kissed her cheek then turned to the blond beside her, “Malfoy. Please try not to die again.”
“Potter,” Draco sneered. “Only if you don’t get Hermione captured, again. You’re lucky I’m bedridden, or I’d clock your glasses off your face. You were supposed to keep her safe.”
Harry looked mollified, “I know, it was my fault,” he admitted.“But I’m glad you and Hermione are alright, all things considering.” Hermione reached out to grab his hand and squeeze. She knew the capture weighed heavily on his heart.
Hermione glared at Draco in warning. He glared back for a moment before he sighed and kissed her temple again, “Me too, Potter, me too.”
* * *
The next day, Harry and a hesitant Ron visited them again. Ron had a permanent scowl and glare on his face, but he willingly sat on the settee across from them. Harry sat beside his friend. He had talked to Ron last night and convinced him to hear them out.
Hermione felt her stomach roll in anxiety, but she forced it down, facing her two friends. “Alright,” she hummed, “Where should we start then?” She wondered if she should start in fourth year, when their relationship turned out to be something quite serious, or in sixth, when Hermione had willingly helped Draco fix that stupid vanishing cabinet.
“From the beginning,” Harry chimed in, “Whenever you apparently decided Malfoy wasn’t an absolute tosser anymore. Although I’ve known about this for a while,” he gestured towards them generally, “I sometimes still cannot, for the life of me, figure out how we ended up here.”
Draco snickered. He opened his mouth to most likely say something scathing, but Hermione glared at him, causing him to stop in his tracks.
“Draco, you promised to behave,” she warned. He merely smirked, giving a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, which softened her glare instantly.
“Yes, love.”
Harry groaned, “Please not in front of me.”
Hermione blushed, then cleared her throat, “Right then, from the beginning. Well, remember when you and Ron ignored me during the Firebolt incident in third year?”
Harry looked sheepishly at her, “Yeah.”
“It started then. When Draco kept stealing my table at the library.”
Draco scoffed beside her, “Your table? As if, witch, that table was mine since that first assignment from potions in first year.”
“That’s false, and you know it,” Hermione shot back, “I never saw you at that table until way later in the year. You stole it from me because you couldn’t stand the fact that I got the best table in the library first.”
Draco looked bewildered at her, “Stole? I—”
“Not to interrupt whatever this is,” Harry gestured generally with his hand, “but does it really matter? I mean there are hundreds of tables in the library—”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Both Hermione and Draco glared at each other.
“—and what’s that got to do with this?” Harry said exasperatedly.
“Well, you see,” Hermione huffed, “It had to do with a lot.”