29. Half a League Onward

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...

Note: Surprise! I felt really bad leaving everyone hanging like I did after chapter 28. So, please enjoy, and hopefully we'll all be friends again. :) Thanks, as always, to my beta, eilonwy. Much love and cookies, my dear! The title of this chapter is from the poem "Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

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Chapter 29 - Half a League Onward

Hermione started out in her room, in her bed, but she couldn't relax. She missed the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff, the gentle breeze caressing her skin and the smell of the salty air. After trying for half an hour to get to sleep, she even opened her window, hoping it would suffice. She was still awake after another half hour.

The entire house was silent, save for Ron's snores coming from downstairs. He'd taken the sofa, refusing to accept Hermione's offer of her room. So she had reluctantly trudged off to sleep in her bed, not wanting to "waste" a perfectly comfortable bed just because Ron was being stubborn.

Harry and Ginny were across the hall. Ron had paled when the discussion of sleeping arrangement had been broached, but had said nothing. Hermione knew the idea of his little sister married would take Ron a bit of getting used to.

It was hopeless. After sleeping outside for months, she wasn't used to her bed and couldn't get comfortable. Hermione decided to go outside after all. Something throbbed in her chest when she realized that Draco was very much asleep and would not be coming down to tuck her in. She grabbed a few extra blankets for the cold.

Despite the fact that Hermione had tiptoed down the stairs and through the sitting room, Ron woke up. He must have been sleeping lightly due to the unfamiliar surroundings.

He sat straight up, half of his hair matted to his head. Hermione stifled a giggle.

"Mione?" he said, half asleep, his eyes still closed.

"Ron, go back to sleep."

He opened his eyes then, and squinted at her, as though the sun were shining right into them. "What are you doing?" he asked, his speech slurred slightly.

"Going outside."

"Why?"

"Can't sleep."

"Do you always sleep outside? Even in the snow?" he asked.

"Yes. Draco put up wards to keep the snow from falling on the porch, and also to keep it warm."

"Oh. So it's Draco now, is it?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Sometimes. He's really quite changed, Ron. I know you can't possibly understand it all, since they're leaving in about a week, and I don't even know it all. But he's much changed. Just promise me you'll give him a chance. At least the chance to show you that he really cares about Harry."

"Right. Sure. When V-Voldemort shows up at my house with a bouquet of pansies. And a box of chocolates for Mum."

"Ron," she said, caught between wanting to be upset with him and wanting to laugh at the image.

He waved his hand about in front of him. "Yeah, yeah. Fine, whatever. I – I'll give him a chance. But you should know how much I want to hit him for making you cry."

"Yes, I do. Fully. And thank you. But please don't, okay?"

He nodded and slumped back down onto his pillow.

"Are you warm enough?" Hermione asked.

Ron frowned, as though the effort to answer her was enormous. "I'm okay."

"Would you like another blanket? I've got a few here."

He'd fallen asleep. Hermione shook her head smiling, and went to the sofa. She laid one of her blankets over Ron and saw him snuggle under the added warmth.

The bitter wind hit her immediately as she shut the porch door, but she smiled as she moved toward her swing and felt the warmer air surround her. She made her bed and was asleep within minutes.

Ron woke up one more time that night, but he didn't move. Immediately alert, he listened intently. It sounded like someone walking down the stairs. He turned to watch, and was surprised to see Malfoy appear, wearing sleeping clothes and carrying a traveling cloak. He watched as Malfoy walked to the back of the house, then he heard a door open and shut. Not five minutes later, the door opened and shut again, and seconds later Malfoy appeared without the cloak, and ascended the stairs. Ron really wanted to think about what it might mean, but was hit with a wave of fatigue and fell asleep before he could.

ooo

Draco and Harry stayed for six days before departing. With Ginny's help, Hermione spent most of the time brewing potions, preparing salves and creams, and gathering provisions for the extended mission. The time passed quickly and pleasantly.

The morning after their arrival, Ron had noticed Hermione come back into the house with a familiar traveling cloak, and had decided to give Malfoy a bit of a chance. He spent all his time with Harry and Draco, watching them duel, being jealous of all Harry had learned and in utter awe of Draco's abilities. Harry promised to teach him everything once it was all over. When they weren't training, they prepared for the trip in other ways, poring over maps and documents they'd gathered for hours at a time. No one bothered to mention that the event might not turn out favorably for all concerned, which would mean for no one concerned.

Yet they all knew it, and it was in the backs of all their minds, even Draco's. He knew that if Harry were killed before himself, he would be in the biggest mess of his life. He was comforted in knowing that the remainder of it would at least then be short, albeit painful.

Hermione watched Draco over the six days. She listened to him when he talked to Harry about their mission. She picked up on the intonations of his speech, the way he casually tossed around the idea of his death. It unnerved her to no end. As the time came for their departure, she was nearing a panic, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

Finally the even of Harry and Draco's departure arrived. Hermione and Ginny fixed a glorious going-away dinner, complete with decorations and place settings. They talked pleasantly through all of dinner, and well after it. When Hermione offered to serve a special cake she and Ginny had made, Draco declined and excused himself. She watched in disappointment as he walked out onto the porch and sat down.

She shrugged it off, but that panic she'd been feeling crept back into her thoughts. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and she moved into the sitting room with their cake to continue the conversation. Despite Ron and Ginny's efforts to be civil, it was much freer with Malfoy out of the room, which perhaps had been his design in leaving them alone.

Hermione allowed her mind to wander back to him as her friends talked. She replayed everything he'd said since returning with Ron and Ginny, and tried to recall his manner when they were said. Finally, an idea struck her hard in the heart – he meant to die. He meant to allow himself to be killed for some reason. Why? Had he despaired so much of life?

Hermione needed to talk to Draco. When she was sufficiently out of the conversation with Harry, Ron and Ginny, she casually stood up and walked out onto the porch, grabbing Draco's cloak from where it was hung on the wall by the door and throwing it around her shoulders as she went.

Draco was reading when he saw Hermione walk outside. The wind immediately rushed through her hair and the cloak she wore: his. He watched her walk to the railing and rest a hand on it. She stared out at the water for a few minutes, drinking in the cold wind and the crashing sound of the waves. It reminded him of when they'd started, months ago. Then to his surprise, she looked at him. Pointedly. For a few seconds. Then she left the porch and walked down to the lawn between the house and the cliff and out of sight.

He sat there for a moment, trying to determine what had happened. Then something clicked and he followed her. She was sitting in the grass and hugging her knees, which were pulled up to her chest. The wind was still whipping through her hair. Draco sat down next to her.

For a few moments, neither spoke.

Then Hermione said, "So, you're planning on dying, right?"

Draco was quite stunned at her question. "Sorry?"

She looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "You're thinking you'll die."

He tried to force a smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "I don't exactly follow."

"You've come back bloodied, beaten, and broken more than once, but Harry hasn't had a scratch. You have been sacrificing yourself so Harry wouldn't be hurt, haven't you?"

He winced and looked away from her. "You're too smart for your own good, Granger."

"So it's true."

He sighed. "Yes. I've taken Harry's share of beatings."

"And you would die for him."

Draco took a deep, cleansing breath. "Yes," he said quietly. "If it meant Harry got even one more shot at him."

"You'd take the Killing Curse for him."

"There are many things worse than death, Hermione."

Her heart started beating faster when he used her name. "Dumbledore told Harry that once. Said it was Voldemort's weakness, that he believed there was nothing worse than death."

Draco chuckled. "Who would have thought I'd ever have anything in common with that old loon?"

She jabbed him on the shoulder. "Dumbledore was not a loon, he was brilliant." Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, he could be loony at times, but he was the most brilliant wizard of our time."

They were silent again for a moment.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why would I die for Harry?"

She nodded.

He continued. "Because it's the right thing to do. It's an atonement for my crimes. It's helping a friend. It's helping to ensure a world without fear." He looked at her. "It's the right thing to do."

She averted her face, not wanting him to see her tears.

"Besides, it's not like the world will mourn. They'll be glad I'm dead. Sure, he died to save Harry, but good riddance anyway." Draco scoffed. "I can never be part of life. I gave it up long ago, and now I'm just trying to give life to people who will be able to live it."

"Don't talk like that."

"What do you expect? That I could walk down the street, step into the supermarket and buy bananas like nothing happened? Wake up, Granger, smell the ocean around you. There's nothing left for me. I'm fine with that. I came to terms with it long ago.

She turned back to him, tears flowing freely. His heart twisted at the sight of the streaks running over her cheeks. "Don't be stupid, Malfoy. You can have a life once this is over, you don't have to run off to some island and hide away forever. You don't have to sacrifice yourself needlessly. You'll prove yourself to everyone by what you've been doing, and they will forgive, they will. I did."

"But you can't forget. You see them when you look at me, I can see it in your eyes. No matter what happens, no matter how much I do for you or for the people you care about, you will always see me as a murderer, the one who killed your parents. That will never change. And all the other people I killed, their families will be the same."

Hermione put her hand on his arm. She desperately wanted him to believe her. "I forgive you though, and that's something."

"Not nearly enough." He looked into her eyes and continued softly. "Your forgiveness means more to me than you could ever know. But it's not enough."

"Why not? Why can't it be? Let it be a start, Draco."

"I can't anchor my life to one act of kindness. It's not sure enough."

"It is certain. I know you. I will not change."

The significance of her words struck him. "What are you going to do? Stick around? Remind me every day that I'm not a complete waste of space?"

"If I have to."

He shook his head, chuckling sadly. "Hermione, you have such a wonderful life ahead of you. Full of happiness and peace. You don't need to bother with me."

"It's not a bother, Draco. In case you hadn't noticed, you've come to be important to me. I care about you. I don't want you to run off and get yourself killed because you don't care if you live or not. I want you to live." She added quietly, "I want to see where this is going."

He frowned, scared that she had meant what he thought she meant, but hoping she did, too. "Where what's going?"

She looked at him. "This."

Draco's felt his insides squirm something fierce, his heart rate increased three-fold, and his throat went dry as she looked intently into his eyes. He was at a complete loss for words. He swallowed hard, meaning to say something, but his mind had gone completely blank. She just kept looking at him. He looked away and could feel the fog lessen a bit, just enough to get a few words out.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Malfoy, look at me."

He didn't, nor did he intend to.

"Malfoy, look at me," she said, more firmly. He continued staring out at the water in front of him. "Draco, please."

Oh no. She'd said his name and please. Draco felt his resolve weaken, but he had to stay strong. If he looked at her, it would all be over. He shut his eyes. "No."

Hermione refused to accept his answer. She reached her right hand to his face, resting it on his left cheek. His skin was warm and soft as silk. She ignored the surging sensation and gently turned his head to look at her.

Yet he still resisted in looking at her by refusing to open his eyes. He would not look into her eyes.

"Draco," she whispered, pleadingly, earnestly, finally pushing through his defenses.

He opened his eyes to look into hers. But he didn't have time to search them or read them or drown in them. Because when their eyes met, she closed the small distance between them and kissed him.

Fire ran through him at her touch. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated. But only for a fraction of a second. He took her face in his hands and commandeered the kiss. He took it from soft and timid to fierce and full. He kissed her with everything he had, all the fear, longing, pain, and joy he felt. He kissed her because he was scared to die, and he too wanted to see where this would go. He kissed her because of the secrets he kept from her, willing her to trust him, to believe him, to know that he would tell her. He told her he loved her, he would do anything for her, would die for her, would even try to live for her.

He was brought back to reality when he tasted salt. He opened his eyes and saw her tears, so he stopped kissing her and pulled back. He couldn't believe how hard it was to put even a few inches of distance between them, like fighting against a raging tide.

Hermione's eyes flew open tears filling her eyelashes; he could see her eyelashes. She gave him a small smile.

Despite that, a giant boulder implanted itself in Draco's gut. He'd just confessed everything to her in that kiss. Yet it seemed impossible to imagine that she could ever truly accept him; she would despise him for those secrets. And then a tiny voice, sounding a lot like Hermione's voice, piped its way itself into his brain and squeaked, But maybe…

Hope. It was almost harder to endure than his feelings for her. He could push those aside, reason that nothing would ever happen. But hope gnawed at him, saying "maybe." Maybe she'd forgive him – again. Maybe she'd look past everything about him and give him a chance anyway. Then again, maybe she'd hate him and curse him, turn him forever into a ferret that she'd keep locked in a cage on her back porch where he'd have to watch her fall in love and get married and have kids and smile at someone else like that. Could ferrets feel? Or think? Maybe, if they used to be human.

Draco ripped his gaze away and faced the ocean instead. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

He resisted the urge to shake her off. "Granger," he croaked, surprised to find that his voice worked.

"Hmm?" she said, clearly smiling, clearly happy. He could tell, the snowman with the heart of ice. Even the fish in the water far below could probably tell.

"Why – why did you cry?" he managed to say.

"I don't know, really. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that," he said forcefully.

She tilted her head to look up at him. He wasn't smiling, and there was no light in his eyes. He was most certainly not happy.

Hermione sat up and crossed her arms. "What?" she asked, confused.

Draco looked at her, surprised at the tone of her voice. "What?"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Draco Malfoy. I know that's not true."

"Well, congratulations."

"Please tell me."

He shook his head. "It's – I can't. You'll find out soon enough." He looked at her again finally, trying to hide his raging emotions.

"I think I cried because of everything that's going on," she said, looking away. "You and Harry are leaving tomorrow, and I don't even know if I'll ever see either of you again, and who knows what will happen when Harry fights Voldemort. And Ron and Ginny are here, and I could see how I used to feel about you in Ron's words, and I hated seeing it. And I saw how their words affected you, that you couldn't let them roll off you like before because you care about things now. Maybe Harry, maybe me; I even think you care about them because of Harry. And it's not fair, but Ron doesn't know any better.

"He doesn't know who you are. And I wanted to tell you that you can't just drop off the earth and expect nothing to happen. Maybe before no one cared about you, but someone cares about you now. Harry and I do. I do. You matter to me, and you have to know that before you carelessly throw your life away. Someone would miss you. So think about that" To Draco's surprise, Hermione stood abruptly and returned to the house. He heard the porch door close.

Draco sat rooted to the spot for an hour. Hermione cared about him-- about him. The Death Eater, the killer, the beast. How could she? She looked past all those adjectives and focused on him. Granted, he had changed greatly in two years, but she had made the effort to believe in him.

He hadn't set out to make friends, but he'd quickly come to see Harry as one. It took longer with Hermione, probably because he rarely saw her, not to mention what she believed he'd done to her parents. But now she cared about him.

And if that kiss was anything to go by – No. There's that hope again. He swallowed the thought and hesitantly reconsidered his position. He would still die for Harry, but only in dire need. He would be careful not to take unnecessary risks or blows. Someone wanted him to come back. He smiled as her words finally sank in. He mattered to someone.

Caring about Hermione after she was left alone two years ago had saved him, brought him purpose and the beginnings of meaning to his life. He had crawled toward life but always felt that something prevented him from embracing it fully. Now he knew what was needed – having someone else genuinely care about him. Now, suddenly, he'd been yanked the rest of the way and finally found himself smiling like that insane person Harry was always trying to imitate. A real, genuine smile that came from his heart and warmed his body, even to the tips of his fingers.

Tomorrow would be easy. And the next day. And the entire week, and month. The Dark Lord stood no chance, not now that his once most trusted and faithful servant had seen what he'd only ever heard about in distant whispers.

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Harry woke before dawn the next morning. He kissed his wife on the forehead while she slept, his heart aching at leaving her but full of love. He quietly made his way down the stairs and frowned briefly at the sight of Ron asleep on the sofa.

Draco was waiting for him outside the sitting room. Their eyes met; Draco nodded and they went for the door.

Hermione was on the front stoop, dressed for travel and bags packed.

"Hermione!" said Harry. "What are you doing?"

"Coming with you," she said, standing and catching up her bag.

Both men gaped at her.

"Absolutely not," said Draco.

"No, Hermione, you can't."

"Why not? Harry, I've been with you through everything. Voldemort, Death Eaters, Horcruxes, life, death-- everything. I want to be with you when you face him."

"No," growled Draco, shooting daggers with his eyes.

Harry took her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Hermione, think. We've been training and planning for months; you haven't. If these people got one glimpse of you, just one, they would target you, go after you. Use you to get to me, to get us off this track we've laid. And of course, we wouldn't rest until you were safe, and that could potentially cost us everything we've worked so hard for."

Tears poured down her cheeks. "Harry, I can't stay here, waiting. I can't just sit and do nothing. I can't…"

"But you must! Ron and Ginny are here for you."

"They'll be just as worried as I am, now that they know about all this. I mean it, Harry. Ron will drive me insane with his incessant blabbering, which you know he does when he's upset. And Ginny! She'll be a fountain; I'll drown! I don't want to have to mop up after them, take care of them, all the while worried out of my wits about you two."

"Hermione, you need to stay. They're your friends. You'll be glad to have each other."

"No." She readjusted her bag. "I'm coming."

Draco was getting annoyed. They were going to be late, and Harry's diplomacy would make it certain. "No. You're not." He advanced on Hermione and picked her up by the legs, throwing her over his shoulder. Harry almost laughed.

Hermione beat on Draco's back, screaming at him to put her down.

"Granger, shut up! You're going to wake Weasley and Ginny."

Hermione scowled and continued to hit him, but stopped yelling. Draco carried her into the house, up the stairs, and into her room. He set her down on the bed. She tried to get up; he grabbed her wrists and held her down.

She struggled, but when she looked into Draco's eyes, she saw they were wet. She lay still, holding his gaze.

"Don't make me Immobilize you."

She nodded. He released her wrists and took one of her hands in his. "I promise to come back, if you promise to stay," he said softly.

She looked at him and saw that he meant it. She nodded, scared to speak. "I promise," she whispered.

Draco kissed the palm of her hand and then the pulse point of her wrist, his eyes locked with hers, and then left the room without a word or a glance back. Hermione cried herself to sleep.

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A/N: Oh, I'm all a-jitters! Did you like it? Please tell me! Oh, and thanks for reading! Love you all!