“Do you have everything?” Draco asked from where he stood behind her, watching her pack her trunk.

Slowly he pushed her hair off her neck, pressing kisses to her shoulder. She shivered.

“I think so… I have my robes, my books, Daph’s painting…” She continued to search through the trunk ensuring she hadn’t forgotten anything else.

“Our journal?” He offered, hands sliding to her waist.

“Yes of course,” she answered with a laugh, relishing the feel of his body pressed against her back.

“You’re sure you have everything, love?” he asked teasingly, as if she was missing something obvious, and stepped away from her.

“Yes, Draco!”

“Double check, you know how distracted you get.”

“Gah!” she huffed. “I do not get distracted, you obviously have me mistaken with your other girlfriend. I made a list and everything!” Turning to him in a swirl of curls and irritation she placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh so then I suppose these are for my other girlfriend.” He smirked at her.

Her mouth popped open at the sight of a small square box sitting on Draco’s palm, an emerald bow tied around the middle.

“Draco…” she admonished, reaching to pull the end of the ribbon.

Pulling the box back he tutted.

“No – no, I think you’re right. These most definitely are for someone else.”

She reached again, trying to snatch the box out of his hand but Draco used his height to his advantage, holding it over his head. He laughed as she jumped piteously to try to reach.

“You… Are… The… Absolute… Worst!” She grumbled between each jump.

“Now Granger, is that any way to speak to the wizard who is trying to give you a gift?”

She stopped jumping, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I thought you said it was for your other girlfriend?”

His grey eyes twinkled and he shrugged, pulling his hand down to chest height.

“I suppose I’ll give them to you, seeing as the other is indisposed.”

“Non-existent, you mean,” Hermione snapped.

Draco threw his head back with a laugh.

“Oh, I love it when you’re jealous,” Draco purred, his eyes flashing as he leaned close. “Especially over a non-existent rival.”

Hermione huffed, but stopped as he extended the box to her, pulling the ribbon free.

She gasped as she removed the lid.

Two sparkling emeralds sat nestled in black velvet, glittering in the weak morning light that slanted in through the gauzy curtains.

“This is too much, Draco. You know I don’t need jewels!”

A small grin tugged up the corner of his mouth.

“I know you don’t need jewels, Hermione. But I need to give them to you.” He stepped closer, drawing one of the emerald studs out of the box. “It’s a Malfoy weakness, to lavish his witch with splendor.”

Hermione felt her cheeks blush a deep red as she watched the stone reflect green lights across the lilac walls.

“Plus… I know green is your favorite color,” he continued with a wicked grin.

She stifled a laugh, hitting him in the shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean you should be giving me emerald earrings!”

His grin slowly melted from his face, eyes growing dark as he placed the earring back in the box and slid a hand across her waist.

“Wear them… for me…” His grey eyes flashed silver. “Please?”

Her stomach swooped as his voice took on that rumbly tone that always made her bones turn to jelly. Her head seemed to be nodding on its own accord and she couldn’t fight her smile as dawn broke out over Draco’s face.

With only slightly trembling fingers she reached into the box, fastening the emeralds to her ears quickly.

Draco pushed her hair back from her ears, his fingertips brushing the skin of her jaw.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, leaning to press a kiss slowly on one cheek, then the other.

Her stomach fluttered as his lips moved to her eyelids, then her forehead, then finally her mouth.

“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered against him.

His hands delved into her hair while she wrapped her arms around his waist. She couldn’t stop the breathy moan that escaped as he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth.

A throat cleared loudly behind them, forcing them to jump apart.

“Ever heard of knocking, Theo?” Draco grumbled, spinning to throw himself onto Hermione’s messy bed.

Theo laughed loudly as he carried in a purring Crookshanks, scratching him under the chin.

“Excuse me, I knocked – twice . Not my fault you were so busy snogging you didn’t hear. Plus, I assumed Hermione wouldn’t want to leave her adorable familiar here, though I can’t say I would complain.” He pressed multiple loud kisses to the top of Crook’s ginger head, the half-kneazle’s eyes closing in a lazy, satisfied sort of way.

“Oh, thank you, Theo!” Hermione said, grabbing up the Crook’s basket and encouraging him to get inside.

Sighing, she placed the basket beside her trunk and sat next to Draco on the bed and started to chew on her bottom lip.

“It’ll be fine, Hermione. If anyone can pull off this task, it’s you,” Theo encouraged, coming to sit on her other side.

Draco pushed himself up, placing a comforting hand on her back while Theo grabbed her hand.

“But what if I can’t?!” she gasped with the same anxiety they recognized from pre-exams.

Draco and Theo exchanged a look behind her back.

“You can’t think like that, love,” Draco said soothingly. “Don’t give yourself room to fail. You are the brightest witch of our age.” He smirked as he quoted his estranged cousin. “You’ll succeed and then the Dark Lord will honor you and us by extension.”

“I, personally, hope there will be cake,” Theo added.

…

A few minutes later the Malfoys, Theo, and Hermione were gathered in the entry of the Manor. Her trunk and Crookshanks’ basket sat beside the floo as she looked at the group while twisting and untwisting her fingers together.

“Thank you for having me,” Hermione said conventionally, wincing a bit as the words came out.

What she wanted to say was: please don’t make me go. Please let me stay. I’m afraid. What if I fail? What if I’m not strong enough?

It was Lucius that stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder and drawing her to him in a tight embrace. His hand smoothing over her curls.

“You are strong and more than capable. Do not forget that, Hermione. Yes, the Dark Lord has given you a task – and a difficult one at that – but do not allow this fear to consume you.”

“But what if I fail?” Her voice was muffled against the expensive silk of his midnight blue robes.

“If you fail… Then we will find another way to please the Dark Lord. Or we will create a trap in which Narcissa may assist you with the Potter boy. But I do not believe that will be necessary.” He pulled back, his grey eyes boring into hers. “Trust yourself, Hermione. Trust your magic and trust what we have taught you.”

She nodded and he gave her a small smile in response. Lucius’ smiles were rare, like precious gemstones, and whenever she received one, she wanted to store it somewhere safe to hold on to forever.

He stepped back, allowing his wife to pull Hermione into her arms for a fierce hug. The woman had no encouraging words for her – they had already been said earlier after their final legilimency lesson.

“Kindness, bravery, compassion – these are your strengths, darling.”

Now she merely kissed the top of her head before allowing Theo to pull her up into a tight bear hug.

“Tell Ginevra hello from me,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

She rolled her own eyes before swatting him on the shoulder.

“That’s all you have to say?”

Theo shrugged, flicking her nose.

“Also, I’ll miss you and when you succeed, tell the Dark Lord you want a chocolate cake,” he said then before pulling her back into a hug. She couldn’t stop the small chuckle that slipped past her lips. His voice dropped into a whisper only she could hear. “Please be careful.”

“I will, I promise. I’ll miss you too, Theo.”

It was Draco who drew her face tenderly between his hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as if he could memorize her features. His grey eyes were deep and dark with love and fear, and she wondered what her own face reflected. Was it the love she felt for him? The fear of this task and the Dark Lord? The guilt that was already beginning to eat her alive regardless of how many pages she filled in her mental library?

He kissed her softly, lovingly, before whispering against her ear:

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she replied, clutching him tightly.

“It’s time, darling,” Narcissa said softly.

Hermione nodded and Draco drew away enough to assist her into the floo with her luggage and Crookshanks. She took one last look at those she loved most and prayed to Circe that the next time she saw them together it would not be screaming on a drawing room floor.

Then she threw the powder to her feet and yelled:

“The Burrow!”

…

The Burrow was the antithesis of the Manor. Bustling and bright, crowded and messy. Every surface of the small kitchen she stepped into was covered in pots, dishes, fresh baked goods, fruit and veg, and many other assorted items. She caught the delicious scent of pumpkin bread baking and couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.

“Oh lovely you’re right on time as always!” Mrs. Weasley cried with delight.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said as brightly as she could manage, starting to maneuver her trunk around the kitchen table.

“Oh no need for that dear,” the older woman said, then flicked her wand making the trunk and Crook’s basket disappear. “We won’t be staying here.”

Hermione blinked at her.

“What do you mean, Mrs. Weasley?”

The heavy pounding of feet announced Ron’s arrival into the kitchen only moments before his ginger head appeared, blue eyes bright with excitement.

“Hey, Mione!” He pulled her in for a one-armed hug. “Mum filled you in yet?”

Mrs. Weasley tutted, pushing Ron out of the way to wrap a motherly arm around Hermione.

“I was about to before you ran in here like a rampaging hippogriff! Are you packed, Ronald?”

Ron’s face turned crimson under his mother’s glare and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, nearly!”

“If by nearly you mean not at all then yes, mum, he’s packed,” Ginny said brightly, ducking under her mother’s arm to give Hermione a squeeze. “Glad you’re finally here, Mione!”

“Thanks, Gin. Good to see you too.”

Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips, now glaring daggers into her youngest son.

“Go upstairs this instant and finish packing.” She pointed towards the slightly tilted staircase that wound through the topsy turvy house.

Hanging his head, Ron left the kitchen grumbling while Mrs. Weasley turned to pull the pumpkin loaf from the oven with a twist of her wand.

“Perfect,” she muttered and with another twirl, the loaf disappeared.

“You said we weren’t staying here, Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione said cautiously, trying to avoid the curious look Ginny was giving her.

“Ah, yes.” Mrs. Weasley wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes surveying the kitchen for a moment before summoning a small scrap of parchment. “Memorize this, dear, before we go.”

The older woman handed her the paper and Hermione thought the neat, slanting writing looked familiar as she read:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.