DRAGON'S HEARTSTRINGS || dramione | harry potter

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They Apparated back to the cottage in silence, not speaking even when they were inside. Hermione's body felt feverish, and she wanted nothing more than to lay down, but there was a lot of work ahead. She met Draco's eyes. He wasn't taking his cloak off.

"I'm going," he said. "I'll find Voldemort and then kill him."

Hermione was so, so tired. But she said, "I'm going too."

"No."

Their eternal battle of wills.

"I won't risk you dying on me," he added more harshly.

"And I won't let you go off all by yourself."

"I can't be killed, remember?"

"By now, You-Know-Who already knows about your Horcrux."

"Which is why you need to stay here and keep it safe." His words sounded light but the tone in which he said it was grimly dark.

Hermione wanted to object, wanted to make it all go her way, but she was tired, her weakened body was about to slump right then and there on the floor. But of course, she couldn't ask him to wait for her to feel a little better, and in a state that she was right now, she knew she would only make it harder for him than do any good. He read the answer in her eyes which she would've never spoken into the universe.

She hated herself for it. She hated herself even more when he left. She felt empty and alone and there was no universe in her mind where the mess that was this war could resolve itself in a satisfying way – if the Order won, they would crucify Draco, and her together with him because there was no version of the end where she wouldn't stand by his side and accept all that came his way as if it were meant for her. And if Voldemort won, once more... Well... There was no happy ending for them.

Hermione never prayed but now she prayed for Draco to find Voldemort soon, preferably in the next hour, and kill him successfully at last. They did all they had to, they did it all according to "the book", according to how it was supposed to be done. If this didn't work now, nothing would.

She fell asleep and slept twelve hours away.

She awoke feeling dizzy and disoriented. There was utter darkness at the cottage, only the rot of the waves, now stronger than before, audible outside. She lit up the tip of her wand and looked around. Draco wasn't back yet.

The only thing that kept her together was that the ring on her finger was still warm, that Draco was impossible to kill and that she would do anything in her power to keep his Horcrux intact.

She couldn't bear the waiting, so she slept some more. This time Harry was the main character in her nightmares, blaming her, hating her, trying to bury her in his parents' grave. Hermione screamed, and the sound was muffled by the soil Harry was throwing on her.

She woke up with a start. It was a bit lighter outside, early morning. Draco was still away.

Something ascended out of the shadows that the corners of her bedroom were still cloaked by. She gasped but managed to keep her fright at bay when she saw Draco – strangely, she didn't hear him Apparate back.

She tried to assert if he succeeded or if he was hurt, but his body was frigid, and his face betrayed nothing.

"Well?" she broke the silence quietly.

"I can't find him," he gritted through his teeth. "He's hiding, he knows I'm after him."

Hermione felt relief – this wasn't the worst-case scenario. Trying to hide from the united power of minds of Draco and Hermione was like trying to mask bloody footsteps on fresh snow – impossible, and stupid to even try.