Seems like we have a lot of hot lovin in my stories lately. Well, bet none of y'all are complaining.

x Noelle

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Paralyses.

had taken a toll on all of them, as Draco found out the next morning. Theo was sprawled on the sofa, while Blaise and Pansy nursed mugs of coffee by the counter.

"Morning, mate," Blaise somehow still managed to look cheery as Draco approached the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee with his wand and sliding it over the counter to Draco. "You alright?"

Draco stared at him. "What?"

"Your nose. When you came back last night, it was bleeding pretty badly."

"It's fine."

Blaise studied his face for a brief moment before his lips curled in a grin. "Of course it's fine."

Something in his tone made Draco glance up. He cast a muffling charm on the living room, then turned to Blaise. "You taught her that?"

"She's a fast learner."

Pansy snorted a laugh and nudged Blaise playfully. "Don't put ideas in Draco's head, baby. Healing spells are fine, but Draco's clearly thinking of something else that she would learn quickly."

Actually, Draco wasn't thinking of anything along those lines, but now that Pansy had put it into his head, it was all he could think about. Bloody Parkinson. He ignored her and chugged his coffee, enjoying the way the hot liquid scalded his tongue.

Once he'd finished his coffee, he set his cup down and turned to Blaise. "The message you sent yesterday on the phial. Alecto Carrow? What did you see?"

Blaise's expression grew serious. "I actually didn't see anything using Legilimency. I used that incantation you came up with to check if she was a skilled Occlumens and she isn't. But she does have locks placed on her memory, the same kind you place on us."

"So you think Carrow's hiding something."

"It's not much," Blaise continued. "But the rest of the members in the group yesterday are cleared, except for her. She's our safest bet."

"It's like searching for a needle in a haystack," Pansy looked somewhat overwhelmed all of a sudden. "We don't even know exactly what we're searching for."

"It's better than nothing," Draco said. "At least I know who I'm going to bring on the next mission."

The other two exchanged confused glances before Pansy turned to him. "Who?"

"Amycus Carrow."

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Hermione knew that something was wrong when she jolted awake. The discomfort she had felt in her stomach was about a hundred times worse. She threw the blanket off her, stumbling into the bathroom before she began to retch.

And if she had imagined seeing blood the night before, she knew she wasn't imagining anything this time round. The sink was immediately stained crimson with blood, and she coughed several more times, feeling her throat burn and tears sting the back of her eyelids.

Draco.

Even in her haze, his was the first face that came to mind. Like always, he was her lifeline and she wished he was there so she could just reach out and hold on.

"Draco," she whispered, her half-dazed mind wondering if he could hear her, wherever he was. And, if he couldn't hear her, then there was...

The phial.

She stumbled out of the bathroom and reached for the dresser to locate her wand. After rummaging through the drawers, she found the incantation he'd written on a slip of paper. She could still recall his words to her:

Tap the phial three times before saying that incantation. Other phials like it will heat up and help will come.

Hermione didn't know how it worked, but it was worth a shot. She tried to stifle another bout of coughing fit into the towel, watching with a rising panic as blood seeped into the cotton fabric. With trembling fingers, she pulled the chain off her neck and pointed the tip of her wand at the phial.

But her eyes were blurry and her words weak, so she couldn't tell if the incantation worked. Then she caught a glimpse of two phials on the table above her.

Draco had forgotten to bring his phials.

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Theo was having a shitty day, what with fighting the Rebellion the night before and having the afternoon patrol shift down Diagon Alley. He was exhausted and could think of nothing other than going back home to catch up on his sleep. Thankfully, his shift was with Malcolm Braddock, and not some other prick he couldn't fucking stand.

When they entered the Leaky Cauldron, everyone glanced up and the place fell painfully silent, the kind only present in front of Death-Eaters. Theo could practically feel them staring at the mark on his forearm, but he ignored their pointed gazes and strode straight over to the bartender. Tom, the old man who used to own the Leaky Cauldron, no longer worked there – rumour had it that he was killed sometime during the war; and the place was now owned by some woman whose name Theo never bothered to learn.

He nodded at the woman and raised two fingers. "Firewhisky."

"You planning on getting drunk, mate?" Malcolm asked, sauntering over to lean against the counter.

"One's for you," Theo returned. "We'll do the rest of our rounds later. Drink's on me."

"Thanks."

"You know – " and then Theo paused as he suddenly felt the phial hanging on the chain around his neck begin to burn. He stood up abruptly, pushing his mug of Firewhisky aside.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah, fine." Theo waved Malcolm's concerns off. "I have to check on something." He headed out of the inn and ducked into the nearest dark alcove. Once he was certain that he was hidden, he drew out the phial.

There was nothing but an address. The address of his flat. He shoved the phial under his shirt and strode back into the Leaky Cauldron.

"Listen, mate, I've got a bit of an emergency to see to," he told Malcolm. "You'll be alright on your own?"

"Of course."

"Thanks." Theo slid a couple of galleons across the counter to cover both their drinks and left.

The house was silent when he arrived and Theo stopped. He'd been expecting to see any of the other three, but the place was empty.

"Draco?" There was no one in the kitchen, so he checked the rooms one by one. "Blaise? Pansy?" One glance around their rooms and he knew that there was nobody, until he stopped in front of Draco's door.

"Draco, mate?" He rapped sharply on the door. "Draco."

There was nothing but silence.

Theo decided to just fuck it. Whipping out his wand, he swiftly undid the locks on Draco's door and pushed it wide open. Only to freeze in horror when he saw a brown haired girl sprawled on the floor, lying in a pool of crimson blood.

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The air was different when Draco returned home later that evening. Theo was pacing rapidly in the living room, running a shaky hand through his hair over and over again; making his dark locks stick out in every different direction.

When he spotted Draco hovering by the doorway, his mouth fell open and he walked over to him rapidly. "Mate, where the hell have you been? Hermione almost died today – " Theo trailed off when he saw the look of sheer terror on Draco's face, and he fell a step back, suddenly feeling unsettled by this version of Draco. "You alright?"

"Where is she?" Draco's voice was strangled.

"In the bedroom – "

Draco pushed past him blindly, rushing straight into his room, only to pause when he saw Pansy sitting by Hermione's bed, whispering incantations under her breath as she pressed the tip of her wand to Hermione's chest. He didn't think Hermione had ever seemed more fragile, except maybe that first night he found her.

"How is she?" Somewhere in his subconscious, Draco realised that he sounded frightened, terrified like a little boy, but he honestly couldn't give a shit. He couldn't even breathe, the air felt like it was charged with toxin. "Is she – "

"She's alright," Pansy replied softly. "But we're waiting for Blaise – he knows these things better than I do."

It was all Draco could do not to rush over and apparate Hermione to St. Mungo's. He wanted to. It was killing him just to stand there so bloody helplessly, but common sense told him that Hermione couldn't be seen in a public hospital.

So he stood there silently, his jaw clenched and trying not to show that he was fucking afraid. Because he was. He really and truly was, and he had never been more afraid before. He couldn't lose Hermione Granger after searching finding her, not now and perhaps not ever.

"The potion's done." Blaise pushed his way into the room, carrying a bowl of steaming brown liquid. He set it down on the bedside drawer and turned to Draco. "Give this to her when she wakes up. One bowl every six hours. She's going to be fine."

All at once, the air felt more breathable.

"What – " Draco cleared his throat and tried to erase remnant traces of panic in his voice. "What happened to her?"

"Internal injury," Blaise replied. "I think she's had it for awhile now, but she just didn't realise it – either that or she's been ignoring it." Draco felt his gut twist at that. "She'll be fine, Draco, this potion works wonders."

He didn't answer, and tensed when he felt Blaise's hand on his shoulder.

"We'll be outside if you need us," Blaise said gently, and left the room with Pansy, Theo following after hesitating by the doorway for a moment. And then the door closed behind them with a click and it was just Draco and Hermione, just him and her, the way it should've always been.

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Outside, Theo watched as Blaise Scourgified the flat to remove the remaining bloodstains. Hermione's blood. Somehow, the thought made Theo feel sick.

"Okay – " he began at last, when he finally couldn't stand the tensed silence for one more second. " – is no one else wondering why we've got a bloody fugitive in our apartment?"

Pansy paused in the middle of arranging the phials. "She's not a fugitive."

"She's not on the side of the Dark Lord, and she used to be a part of the Order back when the Order still existed, so she is a bloody fugitive. I can't believe you two are still so calm about it when..." Realisation suddenly dawned on him and he scowled. "You two fucking knew about her and you didn't tell me?"

For Merlin's sake. He was supposed to be eagle-eyed, sharp and shrewd. An actual person hiding in the apartment wasn't supposed to escape his notice.

"We both found out by accident," Blaise explained. "Well, it was an accident for me, at least. Pansy sniffed her out during the full moon."

"She smelled of blood back then. Mostly soap, but a faint trace of blood. I thought I was imagining things." Pansy let out a sad sigh. "I can't believe I didn't see it coming."

Blaise went over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Not your fault, baby. Even Draco didn't notice anything."

"Why would Draco notice anything?" Theo rolled his eyes. "It's Hermione Granger. We should be bloody thankful that Draco's not parading around waving a sign that says 'fuck you, mudblood' – "

"Er, Theo – "

" – because, let's face it, Draco can't stand her. This'll be interesting. I mean, he can't even stand breathing the same air as her. Do you remember back then in Hogwarts, Draco was so – "

"Theo – "

Theo stared at them in exasperation. "What?"

The other two exchanged uneasy looks, before Blaise let out an awkward laugh. "You or me, baby," he told Pansy, who disentangled herself from his embrace and took several steps towards Theo.

"Actually," Pansy started, rather delicately, "Draco doesn't hate Hermione."

Theo rolled his eyes again. "Of course he doesn't, because that's an understatement. He loathes her – were you not there at Hogwarts? She's the fucking bane of his existence, I mean apart from Potter and the Weasel, but – "

Pansy hit him with a silencing charm. He scowled, removing the silencing charm with a quick wave of his hand. For Merlin's sake, was no one going to let him finish a bloody sentence?

"Shut up for a second," Pansy insisted. "Draco doesn't hate Hermione," she repeated slowly, "Didn't you see how worried he was earlier? Or the fact that Hermione was in his bedroom?"

Theo's eyebrows shot up. "They're – "

"No, they're not." Pansy immediately shot that idea down. She'd spent many an afternoon with Hermione, and she knew that there wasn't much progress when it came to Hermione and Draco's relationship. "They're, well – "

And then she trailed off, because what were they, really?

They weren't as set and defined as she and Blaise were. She and Blaise were aware of their feelings for each other. They were together because they had a common goal — to end the war. They loved fast and strong, like a hurricane that could weather all storms, because they never knew which day would be their last.

"Promise me," she remembered Blaise saying once to her, when they were basking in the afterglow of sex and he was freckling soft, slow open-mouthed kisses down her collarbone, "that if I die – "

"Why would you die?"

"I'm saying if," he smiled and reached up to press a brief, chaste kiss to her lips. "If I die, just promise me you will still keep fighting."

Her thoughts cleared and she smiled back at him. "Of course. And if I die – you must promise to keep fighting too, until the war ends."

Pansy knew for a fact that if either of them died, the other would mourn for awhile, but still carry on. For them, there was no time for sadness, no time to fear. There was just the here and the now, and they captured every moment and tried to make it better than its predecessor. No regrets.

It was glaringly different for Draco and Hermione. Pansy thought she could see a glimpse of painful co-dependence between the two, the kind that made her shiver, the kind where one was alive only because the other one was. It was – well, it was beautiful and fascinating but so dreadfully lethal and toxic in a time like this.

She glanced at Blaise and he shrugged. Finally, she settled on the vaguest answer she could come up with. "They may have feelings for each other."

But it was sufficient for Theo's mouth to fall open in surprise. "What – " he shut his mouth abruptly with a visible effort, and then there was a pause. Pansy could almost see him trying to internalise the revelation. It was going to be tough for Theo to actually come to terms with it, seeing as he neither believed in romance or love.

"The Slytherin arse and the Gryffindor princess?" He shook his head in disbelief, letting out an awkward laugh at last. "That'll be the fucking day."

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Hermione wasn't awake.

She still wasn't awake and Draco couldn't stop himself from pacing the room rapidly, his breaths erratic like sharp, painful stabs leaving puncture wounds in his lungs. He didn't think he had ever felt this...lost, like the world's axis had vanished and it was spiralling out of control.

Everything felt unravelled, he felt unravelled, and nothing made sense.

A sudden rustling made him glance at Hermione. She slowly stirred awake; her lashes fluttered and her hand pushed the covers aside.

"Granger."

He rushed to her side and pushing away the covers for her. His hands gripped her shoulders, as though he were terrified of her leaving him.

He leaned over her, his figure dark against the iridescent moonlight bathing the room. "Granger - how do you feel?"

A slow smile curved on her lips and she stared up at him with a look that made his heartbeat kick painfully. She reached up to slide one of her palms against his cheeks and drew her thumb against his skin.

"I'm okay."

The relief he felt was just as crushing as the guilt was, just as physically exhausting, and he let out a haggard sigh, dropping his forehead against hers and shutting his eyes. And because everything had unravelled and nothing made sense –

– he thought it was okay to let his lips meet hers.