"I can give you my loneliness,

my darkness, the hunger of my heart,

I am trying to bribe you

with uncertainty, with danger,

with defeat."

— Jorge Luis Borges

Draco deeply inhaled the cold morning air, his lungs expanding and receding steadily. The leaves rustled and the birds twittered from their perch, bathing in the falling sunlight, undeterred by the tension between him and the witch as they circled each other.

"That all you got, Granger?" Draco sneered as she narrowly dodged his fist. "Fucking pathetic."

At his words, the tension in the air sparked and Draco's eyes widened fractionally upon feeling a surge of magic crackling around him dangerously.

"Shut it, Malfoy." The bushy-haired witch gritted her teeth, jabbing her fist towards him just like he showed her. Easily, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it and pulling her flush against him. The heat of her body burned beneath his touch, their skin, slick with sweat, only caused him to tighten his hold.

"You need to stop overthinking before you strike," he said, boring intently into her narrowed brown eyes. "I can see you thinking about your next move before you make it. Your tell is your eyes — you glance at your intended target before striking."

Granger pulled away from his grip resuming her defensive stance. This time she gazed directly at him. Under the morning light, her eyes were the color of firewhiskey — the kind his father kept hidden except on special occasions, the one that as a child Draco had been forbidden to taste. Then she struck, almost catching him off guard by sending a kick to his crotch. Reflexively, he wrapped his arm around her ankle and then took advantage of her imbalance by swiping her other leg off the ground. She landed with a grunt, glaring at him when she recovered.

"Again," he said coolly as she got back to her feet. "I've seen you in battle, your wand work is precise and fluid. Hand-to-hand combat is the same. You can't formulate which moves you'll use beforehand — you need to work off your opponent's strengths and weaknesses, letting your instincts take over."

"I'm trying but it's not as easy as it looks! If I had a book first so I could prepare and understand the techniques — "

"Really, Granger?" Draco rubbed his temples. "This is why you were utter shite during year one broom classes. Not everything can be taught in a book!"

"Well some of us had no choice but to use books! Not all of us had private tutors over the summer or the favoritism of professors — "

"I don't owe you an explanation," Draco said in a clipped voice before sending a kick her way, which she blocked, "but maybe if you got off your high horse you'll see that I earned every grade I got! And no Snape didn't hold favoritism — I've always had an affinity for potions. You're just bitter I scored higher than you in that class!"

Granger's brows furrowed in evident contemplation while swiftly avoiding two jabs coming her way. She didn't buy his words, which only incensed him more.

"As for the tutors I merely used resources that were at my disposal!" She tried to feint for his right but he saw it coming and sent her to the ground again. "Yes, I know I was lucky and privileged that my family had connections to the best tutors in each field, but what was I supposed to do? Of course I took advantage of every opportunity that came my way! But that doesn't mean I didn't work hard!"

"And the quidditch team?" she panted out as she resumed her defensive stance. Despite her small build, she somehow managed to stare down at him.

"What about it?" His eyes narrowed.

"Your father bought the entire team new brooms and coincidentally you became Slytherin's new Seeker?" she said with an accusatory brow raised. Draco launched himself at her, throwing every combination he had taught at her.

"I've been on a broom since I could fucking walk! I trained every fucking day over the summer!" Silently, he commended her on her solid defenses. However, her energy was dwindling quickly, causing her to slow down. He continued. "Believe it or not Granger, I earned my way on that team! And it was only after I got on that my father gifted the brooms! Don't even call me out for privilege or favoritism when Potter himself got away with just as much, if not more, shit."

Hermione was panting heavily, her arms aching as she started getting sloppy.

"You're still a pointy-faced prick!" she growled at him after he sent her staggering.

"Never denied that I was," he smirked, looking less winded as he casually dodged her fists with a refined sort of elegance that only infuriated her.

"Arrogant git!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" he spat, cornering her near a large tree. "Is the Brightest-Witch-of-Our-Age ready to admit that she isn't a perfect little swot that is good at everything?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Make me," he challenged, giving her a vicious smile before sending a fist her way. Her muscles ached but her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. There was a certain thrill of feeling grounded in the moment, through the meeting flesh against flesh everytime she struck and their bodies danced around each other in a natural kind of rhythm, a pattern that made her feel present in her existence — a feeling she realized she had not felt in so long.

Hermione immediately ducked and, using the tree behind her for momentum, she kicked off of it and wrapped her arms around his torso, sending them both to the ground with a thud.

His body was solid beneath hers, muscles flexing underneath her touch. They panted, their skin overheated as their chests expanded against each other, greedy for air. For a moment, they stayed there, catching their breaths before she huffed and rolled over beside him. Hermione stared up at the robin-blue sky as she tried to settle her hammering heart, savoring the cool breeze that licked her burning skin.

"An inelegant move but it did the job," Malfoy said with a wince. "Useful when you're cornered, however it lacks actual technique. But then again I shouldn't be surprised given that you seem to prefer a less refined approach to life as evident in the way you refuse to subdue that bushy mane — "

Draco flinched at the hard slap that hit his shoulder.

"Just be fucking quiet, Malfoy," Hermione groaned. Before shutting her eyes, she thought she heard a light chuckle before it was lost in the soft rustle of leaves.

***

Hermione would have laughed at Scorpius' scowl (very much identical to his father's) if it weren't for the palpable tension between the True Order members and the two Malfoys. Hermione herself felt a sense of unease as the True Order members glared and whispered as they made their way upstairs to their rooms. They were to stay at the Shell Cottage safehouse for a couple of days to regroup and go over some new plans together with a team that returned from Slovenia.

"Where Mini going?" Scorpius frowned when Hermione, after setting up wards in Malfoy's and Scorpius' room, turned towards the door.

"I'm just going to get myself settled in the next room," she smiled warmly. Scorpius' brows furrowed in worry.

"Mini should not go downstairs. Ders many mean people. I no like dem," Scorpius said seriously while burrowing further into his father's arms.

"They're nice people — they won't hurt you, Scorp, I promise," she replied, giving his little head a pat. He still didn't look convinced but Malfoy gave her a dismissive nod, which she returned then left.

"Come in!" Hermione called out upon hearing a knock at her door just as she finished unpacking. When she was satisfied that her books were properly organized, she turned towards the figure leaning on her doorway. "Need something, Mclaggen?"

"I just arrived from HQ and was requested by Kings and Moody to deliver this note to you," he said as he handed over a sealed parchment.

"Thanks," she responded as she took the note, looking at it curiously. When she noticed he was still in the doorway, she looked up at him expectantly. Just like many of the Hogwarts students left in the war, Mclaggen looked much older. He had filled out and his face was more chiseled. Yet, he still had that aggressive and self-righteous look in his amber eyes, holding some kind of unfounded surety in his place in the world. Hermione had reminded herself that the war had mellowed him over. He could hold the occasional conversation that didn't always involve himself. Still, she always mentally prepared herself whenever he wanted a chat.

"So Hermione," he began when she didn't say anything else. His cheeks flushed slightly but he continued to look at her intently and took a step forward. "Just wanted to see how you were doing after the mission. I was really worried about you and all — and not just because you were my responsibility due to my position as team leader."

"Who you?" an imperious voice interrupted from the doorway. Mclaggen immediately turned around only to be met with Scorpius who had the most Malfoy sneer on his round face. The little boy sized up Mclaggen with evident disdain from his position in his father's arms.

Mclaggen looked from the child to Malfoy who had his eyes narrowed at him. "Apologies, are we interrupting something?" Malfoy asked, raising a pale brow at Hermione.

"No you weren't," Hermione said as her gaze shifted to Mclaggen who looked unsettled by the tot still glaring at him. "Cormac, this is Malfoy's son, Scorpius. Scorpius this is Cormac — he's a friend."

The little boy continued eyeing the confused Mclaggen then reached out to Hermione.

"Mini, carry." Malfoy reddened slightly, about to reprimand his son but was cut off when Hermione waved him off and pulled the child into her arms. To her surprise, Scorpius wrapped his little arms around her neck, putting his head on her chest as he gave Mclaggen a challenging look.

Hermione tried to hide her panicked expression as she tried to fight her instinct to pull the boy closer. She already knew she was attached to him and knew Malfoy wouldn't be too happy about it. But thankfully, Malfoy seemed to be concentrated on Mclaggen. Briefly, she thought she saw his eyes flicker over her bed and her state of dress before staring impassively at the man near her doorway.

"Well, I best be going," Mclaggen said, nodding at Hermione. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

Hermione gave him a tight smile. "Sure."

When he left, Hermione sat on her bed with Scorpius on her lap. She began to open the note from Kingsley and Moody while Scorpius tugged at her curls, giggling when they bounced.

"This is a note from Kings and Moody," Hermione murmured as she read the contents. Once done, she held it out for him to take. "They want to see you at HQ tonight to go over some memories. There's a button portkey at the bottom of the envelope, which will activate around seven."

Draco scanned the note and frowned, but didn't say anything.

"I just have some light reading planned for tonight so don't worry about Scorpius," Hermione said clinically.

"That's fine. I'll put him down for a nap now," Draco said, pulling the reluctant Scorpius from her arms, not meeting her eyes.

***

"Done!" Scorpius chirped, beaming at her widely. Hermione chuckled, taking a napkin to wipe the red pasta sauce from his mouth.

"Good job, Scorp! And you ate all the little veggies in the pasta too!" Scorpius puffed his chest out at her compliment.

The little tyke was in a better mood that evening. The rest of the Order occupants left them in the kitchen, choosing to scatter around the porch and living room. Thankfully, they were less tense around Scorpius without Malfoy glowering at them. Some even looked upon the child sadly. Despite being a Malfoy, he was still an innocent child in this war.

She was holding Scorpius on one hip while using her other hand to help him clean his sticky hands when, all of a sudden, the lights went dark.

It was eerily silent, the world plunged into darkness except for the dim glow of moonlight from the murky windows. Hermione immediately drew her wand, clutching Scorpius close to her. Thankfully the boy remained still and silent.

Out of nowhere, a green light flashed followed by screaming. Chaos ensued afterwards as the Order members began shouting from outside. We're under attack. Death Eaters. Death Eaters. Death Eaters.

Hermione's heart beat frantically, her body instinctively shielding the child in her arms. She tried to apparate but the attackers seemed to have put anti-Apparition wards in place. Hermione cursed, keeping her guard up. The fighting was occurring outside and she would have joined the other members but she held a terrified child in her arms. Hermione quickly made her way to the dark hallway and up the stairs. Scorpius began to whimper as explosions erupted outside.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I'll protect you," Hermione whispered in a shaky voice. She entered her room and made her way to the old armoire. Quickly, she locked herself and Scorpius inside with a wave of her wand. The boy clutched her tightly, burrowing his head in her neck.

"Such a strong boy. So brave." She rubbed circles on his back as she knelt on the ground and looked through the keyhole. Hermione's finger shook as the shouting and screaming got louder and louder. The Order had a protocol for attacks like this — someone was supposed to activate the beacon to call for backup. But, as time passed, it seemed no one was able to do so. Hermione knew that if they didn't receive backup, even if she and Scorpius remained hidden, they would eventually be found by the Death Eaters in the rubble. She knew what she had to do.

"Scorpius, look at me, please," she said, cupping the boy's face. "I need you to be a good boy and listen to what I say, okay? We're going to play a little game, kind of like hide-and-seek, which we played yesterday, remember?" Scorpius nodded, his silver eyes wide and terrified. "I need you to listen to me and be quiet — no matter what." The little boy's lip trembled, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I am going to go out just for a little bit— but I'll be back, I promise. But you need to stay here and be quiet, alright?"

"I'm scawed, Mini." Scorpius shook as panic overtook his features. Hermione took a blanket laying in the closet and wrapped it around him.

"No matter what you hear, I want you to stay hidden. It'll be our little game. Just wait for me or daddy to come get you, okay? Don't make a sound for anyone."

"O – okay. I stay. Mini will come back?" he asked, clutching her sleeve desperately.

"Yes, I promise." Briefly, she pressed her lips to his forehead before unlocking the door and quietly leaving the closet. She locked it again and quickly put wards along with a Notice-Me-Not Charm on it. She glanced back one more time at the armoire, her heart shattering before she mustered all her strength to leave him.

Hermione crept through the hallway and down the stairs with her wand ready. She just had to get to the foyer and activate the beacon. When she got half way down the stairs however, the front doors blew open as an unmasked Death Eater barged in. Amycus Carrow.

"Well if it isn't the mudblood," he spat, shooting a curse at her. "Do you know how many labs you and your filthy friends ruined?"

Hermione cast a shield, then cast a slicing hex that grazed his cheek.

"You bitch! You don't deserve to have magic!"

At his words, Hermione felt her own magic flare in her veins. No matter how often others tried to deny her the right to her own magic, it called to her, it belonged to her, it was hers. Her magic pulsed through her blood, a raw kind of power that hummed in perfect harmony inside of her. It was euphoric — so natural. She pulled deep inside of her for that power and unleashed it.

"Sectumsempra!"

Carrow's eyes widened as numerous lacerations appeared upon his torso. Blood gurgled from his throat as he fell to his knees before her. She smiled from above him, basking in the look of pure hate in his eyes as he looked up at her from where he knelt. No one, no one could take her own fucking magic from her.

Swiftly, she moved past his body and wrapped her hand around the head of the phoenix statue. Instantly, a golden light speared through the top of the statue. A few seconds laters, she heard the distinctive pops of portkeys outside and let out a breath as True Order members appeared.

***

Draco appeared in the middle of a battle — the sight of disfigured bodies and the chaos of rogue spells flashing were something he should have been used to by now. His heart rattled in his chest as his eyes searched frantically for his son and Granger. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The moment HQ was alerted to an attack on Shell Cottage, he immediately portkeyed with the others. He joined in the fray, anger fuelling his attacks. He cut a path directly to the safehouse, white hot rage blinding him, not pausing as he took down anyone in his way.

Before he could reach the doorway, however, he caught a flash of curls to his left. Granger. He made his way towards her but momentarily paused. There she was, hair wild, eyes full of fury as she shot curse after curse in every direction. She was covered in dirt and blood, and even he could not deny the magnificence in which she wielded her magic — magic that came so easily to her, that was moulded and sharpened by her sheer will. Deep down he couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the witch before him.

Draco caught movement behind her and shot a hex past her, taking down an attacker. Granger whipped towards him, breathless. For a moment she prepared herself to attack but stopped upon recognizing him.

"Malfoy," she exhaled, lowering her wand.

"Granger," he replied, quickly assessing her. No major injuries from what he could tell. "Scorpius, where — "

"He's fine. He's hidden inside — " before she could continue, a loud sound echoed through the space. The anti-Apparition wards suddenly disappeared, and, before they could react, cracks of Disapparition filled the air. In the next moment, only True Order members and bodies remained.

"Kingsley! Over here! They left something!" Draco and Hermione glanced at each other before making their way towards the front of the safehouse where people were gathering. Before them were dozens of bodies, mutilated and almost unrecognizable. One of the Order members choked in horror, wailing over a boy so young, he couldn't have been older than sixteen.

"It's the scouts."

"Which ones?"

"All of them." Hermione looked in horror as she began to recognize some of the bodies. Padma. Macmillen. Angelina Johnson. Katie Bell.

"It's a message," she murmured. Moody grunted as he hobbled over and flicked his wand to summon a piece of parchment that was nailed to one of the bodies. It was written in blood.

Where is your light now?

"What the fuck is that Death Eater doing here!" A boy — Ravenclaw perhaps — pointed at Malfoy. "Isn't it convenient that he wasn't here during the attack? I bet he's been feeding information to his master — "

"Stand back, Mitch!" Moody warned. Malfoy stepped forward, pure anger in his eyes.

"Then why the fuck would I leave my son here!" he spat venomously. Hermione stepped in front of him as more joined in and started accusing him.