Entanglement: A Dramione Fanfiction

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I wanted to thank those who voted for me in the Enchanted Awards 2019 - it has been such an amazing honor to have made it to the finals, especially amongst all of the other incredible authors who were nominated. I've been nominated in two categories: The Up to No Good Award (Best Work in Progress) for A Contract Most Inconvenient, and the Novel Novice Award (Favorite New Author)! I made a post on my tumblr with links to all of the finalists and how to vote here:*blankfishxx.**tumblr.**com**/post/184299713781/i-feel-so-incredibly-honored-to-have-made-it-to (please copy paste into your browser and remove all *'s). Please do vote for whomever you feel deserves an award and not just me - all voters are welcome! Kudos to the admins of the Granger Enchanted Survivors group on Facebook for organizing this - you guys are incredible.

As always, thank you to my beta, RESimon - you're wonderful!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He did not move until she approached closely enough to touch his shoulder.

He flinched away at the contact, leveling her with his signature glare. "Piss off, Granger," he snapped.

Hermione sighed, electing to sit down on the sofa beside him instead. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," she said softly.

"Then leave."

"Draco, I..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "I want to understand you."

He said nothing but continued to glare at her, his rigid stance emitting just how unwelcome she was in his presence.

"Draco," she whispered. "You know we can't go on like this forever."

He scoffed. "Yes, Granger, do continue to remind me that I've been damned to spend an eternity bound to you."

Hermione closed her eyes as she let out another sigh. "I know you want to argue so we can avoid this conversation, but I won't do it anymore. If we are to survive this war together, then we need—"

"—we need to survive, and that alone. You do not need to know me, or understand me," he spat. "We are bound by duty and nothing more."

The long silence that followed was tense.

"The Order...they want us to do things for them," she said softly. "Awful things."

"Brilliant observation, Granger."

Hermione sighed, then fished out the pouch of portkeys to St. Mungo's out of her pocket and dropped it on the table. "These were left in one of the desk drawers," she said.

Malfoy glared at the pouch, the words To St. Mungo's on the label clearly visible from where they sat.

"They...someone left these for us," she said, thinking of who it could have been. She shivered at the memory of the calculating look Moody had given her the morning she'd stumbled upon their meeting, wondering if he had been the one who'd decided to take advantage of the position Dumbledore had played them into. He was cold and calculating, steadily focused on progress and outcomes and willfully blind of the casualties that the road to victory was littered with. No, definitely not Moody, she thought. Perhaps it had been Kingsley — she recalled him nursing his glass of dark liquor in the sitting room at Grimmauld, looking as though the weight of the war rested upon his shoulders. Or perhaps...

Perhaps it had been all of those who were aware of Hermione and Draco's position. She recalled the viciously angry look that had been in McGonagall's eyes after she'd left the room following the confrontation in which Narcissa had slapped her, and wondered if McGonagall had been the only one truly in her corner while they'd argued over the decision. Maybe they hadn't argued at all, and they'd agreed that the advantage Dumbledore had given them was something they could not ignore. Had it been McGonagall who had stashed these portkeys here for them while she'd prepared the safe house, giving Hermione a silent signal that there was a way to complete whichever missions came their way without murder?