The air was cold and the wind constant as the Granian sped across England and over the North Sea.

The horse moved impossibly fast through the air, faster than a Thestral, faster than Hermione thought it was possible for any living animal to move.

She gripped Draco until her hands ached. "Don't die, Draco. Hold on."

She kept whispering diagnostic spells and verifying that the curse hadn't evolved, that there wasn't fluid accumulation, reassuring herself that his heart rate remained steady.

They were going so fast and so high that the ground was a blur. She refused to look. She couldn't falter.

"Don't die, Draco," she said again as she buried her face against his back.

Her head was throbbing.

The horse kept flying, on and on.

Hour after hour.

The sensation of freefalling suddenly made Hermione's stomach flip as the Granian hit the ground at a run. Its wings were held out wide, carrying it up off the ground in long flying leaps as it slowed down.

Hermione lifted her head and stared dazedly. It was night, and only a crescent moon illuminated the sky.

The horse had landed in an open field.

She squeezed Draco's hand as the Granian cantered to a stop. "Draco... Draco, we've landed. I don't know how to find the safe house."

She shook him gently until she felt him stir. "Draco. I think we're here."

He lifted his head slowly.

"Nix..."

There was a pop, and a tiny and positively ancient-looking house-elf appeared.

"Master Draco, Nix did not expect you," the elf said. Its voice was creaky with age.

Draco stared at him and finally nodded slowly. "Take the horse."

Hermione let the reins slip from her fingers. She started to shift to dismount, but her leg in the stirrup wouldn't hold her. She started to topple off the horse.

Draco abruptly jerked from barely lucid to awake. His right hand shot out and caught her by the cloak.

"Nix!"

Hermione felt herself caught magically, and Draco's hand let go. She was levitated gently to the ground and lay in the grass, too exhausted to move. She stared up at the sky. The stars were bright and glittering overhead.

A moment later Draco brought his leg over the saddle and slid off the Granian, dropping down heavily beside the horse. He patted its neck for a moment before turning and kneeling down next to Hermione. He was as pale as the moonlight, and his expression was dazed but worried as he stared down at her. He pulled the glove off with his teeth and pressed his hand against her cheek.

She forced herself to give him a wan smile. "We did it, Draco."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and his hand slipped down to take hers. She stood, slowly and unsteadily, and they leaned against each other as they walked forward. Draco stopped and extended his hand. There was a clicking sound, and a ray of pale candle light appeared as a door swung open.

They didn't even bother to pull their cloaks off; they just collapsed into the bed and slept. Hermione gripped his hand tightly between both of hers. Draco's chin brushed against her forehead, and she buried her face against his chest, breathing him in.

It was nearly evening the next day when she woke. Her headache was still a constant grinding pain in the back of her mind. She blinked it away, looking carefully around.

They were in a small A-frame cabin. It smelled of raw timber and was mostly unfurnished. A stove. The bed and a small table. A bright brass key hung from a hook on the wall. There were eyelet lace curtains hanging from the windows, and the sunlight streamed down over them where they lay curled up together on the bed.

There was no cold and sterile manor. No creeping sensation of dark magic in the walls and soil. No manacles. No compulsions.

They were safe. Free. Far away from the war.

She studied Draco, her heart in her throat, as she absorbed everything.

It was too good to be true. It had to be. Things in her life were never this beautiful.

She pulled a hand away from Draco in order to search the lining of her cloak for the unicorn wand. As her fingers closed around it, Draco shifted and she glanced over to find him staring at her.

She gripped the wand tightly in her hand as she looked at him.

Her pulse was racing, and she could almost hear the blood roaring in her ears. It felt as though the wrong movement or sound might break everything apart. The warmth and safety would bleed away, and once again she'd find herself as a shadow in the dark, cold manor or swallowed by the darkness under Hogwarts.

"I feel like this is going to shatter somehow," she finally said, reaching out and brushing her fingers through his hair, trying to make herself believe that he was truly there. That the warmth and light and feeling of safety were real.

He nodded slowly. As she studied him, she could see the tension around his eyes and in the way his jaw was set.

She reached and unclasped his cloak, gently pushing it off his left shoulder so she could see his bandaged arm. "It's hurting, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "It's fine."

Her throat tightened. She sat up quickly, and the sunlit world swam in her vision as she blinked rapidly, drawing his unicorn wand from her cloak. "Don't lie about it, I can't care for you properly if you're lying."

She ignored her headache and pulled off her cloak and coat so that she could move her arms more easily.

There was a tray of food on a small table beside them. Draco sat up and speared a burnt sausage with a fork and began nibbling at it while Hermione was rapidly casting diagnostic spells on him. She checked his heart and other vital signs. She examined his blood readings. She cast a complex diagnostic on his left arm and carefully inspected every vein, artery, and major nerve. She spent several minutes siphoning away accumulating fluid.

She reached out and grasped the strap of her satchel, dragging it over before she remembered she could use summoning spells. She rummaged through its contents until she found all the potions she needed.

She unstoppered and held a potion out towards him. "This is antivenin that counteracts the blood thinning. I hope it's not a long-term effect, but in case, you should take this every twelve hours." While he was swallowing it, she looked out the window, staring at the empty field.

Her head was throbbing, and her stomach was beginning to twist and knot itself until she thought she might be sick. She tore her eyes away from the window and pulled a sling out of the satchel. She laid it onto her lap and carefully applied a variety of cushioning charms before turning to Draco who had given up on the sausage.

She slipped his cloak and robes off both shoulders and helped him put on the sling, anchoring it safely and securely against his torso.

"I'm going to make you a prosthetic," she said in a bright voice as she buckled one of the clasps. "I have some ideas already. I did a little bit of research before. Since it's your arm and hand, I thought—maybe wand core in the forearm—you'd be able cast wandless magic with it, if I can figure it out."

She quickly pulled out several vials of pain relief and unstoppered one for Draco. While he took it, she looked out the window again.

"You should eat," he said. "One of the sausages is not entirely charred. There are also—peas, I believe."

Hermione shook her head without looking away from the window. "I'm really not hungry."

She took an empty vial from him and unstoppered the next potion to hand over before peering out the window again. There were meadows of wild grass dotted with wildflowers as far as she could see. The wand handle was smooth and warm under her fingertips.

She gripped it until the wood bit into the bones in her hand.

"Granger, are you alright?"

She looked over sharply. "Of course. I'm fine. I'm just not hungry."

She turned back to the window, shifting herself to the foot of the bed and pushing the curtains aside so she could see their surroundings more clearly.

There was a long, heavy silence that she ignored until she felt she might break under it. She turned and found Draco staring at her intently.

She licked her lips and drew her wand closer. "What—what kind of protection does this safe house have? I haven't—I haven't dueled since I was captured—I should—" her chest was starting to tighten painfully. "I should have practiced. I didn't think about—"

She drew a stuttering breath and looked away again. Her vision was beginning to swim, and her heart was pounding painfully against her ribs.

She needed to stay calm. Occlude everything and focus. She had a job. How she felt didn't matter. She had a job.

"Granger," Draco reached out and rested his hand on her wand, "the safe house is secure, and there's a portkey there on the wall." He gestured towards the brass key. "If we touch it, we'll travel halfway around the world. You don't need to worry."

Her throat tightened, and her heart started racing. "What if someone finds us, Draco? What if it didn't work, and they're already looking for you, but we don't know? I promised I'd take care of you. You're hurt—you were already hurt and I cut off your arm—" her voice fractured, and she gripped her wand more tightly. "What if someone finds us? It's going to fall apart. It always—falls apart."

She started breathing rapidly and pressed her hand against her sternum, still gripping the wand tightly.

She couldn't panic.

She couldn't panic. She needed to—there were protective wards she should add. She couldn't use any Dark Magic, it could hurt the baby.

But if someone came, and she had to choose—

Her lungs started burning.

"Hermione—Hermione, you have to breathe." Draco had moved down the bed and was beside her, firmly pulling her wand out of her hand. Having the wand taken away made her feel hysterical. She grasped at it.

"Don't—don't take it from me!" She felt as though she were being strangled.

He set it on the table where it was still within her reach and pressed his hand against her face, coaxing her to look at him. He gently pulled her closer until her forehead rested against his while she kept gasping and struggling to breathe.

"Come on, you've made it so far, don't panic. Protecting me is not your job. The safe house has protective spells, and we won't be here long. I'm not an entirely abysmal duelist with my right hand."

She forced herself to take a deep breath.

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "That's it. Just breathe. You got us here. You promised you'd stop and recover once we escaped, remember? I'm not the one ignoring a brain injury. You've done your part."

She gripped his wrist with a shaking hand. "Draco—something's going to go wrong. It always goes wrong. It's always when we're so close that it all goes wrong."

"I know," he said, tangling his hand in her hair and pulling her closer, "but it's not all resting on you. I trusted you, and you got us here. It's your turn to trust me. We're safe here, Hermione. You're allowed to feel safe now."

She shook her head. Her sternum felt as though it were fracturing. "I can't. I don't think I know how to."

Her skin was painfully cold, and her whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Draco sighed and pulled her closer. "There aren't wards here like the ones I had on your room. You're probably used to them being there in order to feel calm now."

She sat still for a moment absorbing it before making a choking sound as she burst into tears. It as like breaking a dam. Once she started, she couldn't stop, she kept crying and crying and crying against Draco's shoulder. She felt as though she were mourning over her entire life.

He didn't try to make her stop, he just let her cry until her sobbing slowly eased and she slumped against him, feeling hollow. It was as though she'd stripped her emotions out by the roots and all that was left was a shell. Her chest kept hitching as she leaned against him. Her head felt light but throbbed as though there were a gong inside it, vibrating and resounding painfully through her skull.

When she was breathing evenly again, Draco reached into his robes and extracted a Dreamless Sleep potion from an inner pocket. "It's your turn to rest, Granger. Take it."

She drew back, shaking her head as she looked back at the window, her fingers inching towards her wand. "Draco, if something goes wrong—"

His expression was cold granite. "I'll deal with it. Go to sleep."

"But if—"

"Granger, if it were me, you would have poured it down my throat without asking."

Her mouth twitched as she took the vial. She cast one last glance out the window as she pulled out the stopper and swallowed it.

Her heart was still pounding, but she could feel his hand, warm on her shoulder, as she slumped down. Everything faded away.

She woke in the middle of the night, Draco was standing in front of the window. The moonlight caught in his hair and cast his silhouette in silver. He was staring out across the field, his wand dangling from his fingertips.

She sat up, and he turned to look at her.

She looked past him, reaching for her wand. "Is everything—?"

"Everything is fine." He stepped away from the window, pausing for a moment to find a pocket for his wand that he could access. He slipped it into an inner pocket and ran his hand down his robes as though he were wiping something off before awkwardly shrugging them from his shoulders. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

Her head felt heavy, but the pain had shifted further back in her mind. He leaned back against the headboard. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his fingers trace patterns and protective runes along her arm.

When she opened her eyes the next morning, the world was golden. Sunlight was streaming through the window, warming the bedding. Draco was asleep beside her. Her headache had finally eased to a faint throbbing. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched, sliding her hands across the sheets, and buried her face in a pillow, luxuriating in the heat and the sound of birds singing outside.

She was free. Somewhere with sunshine and magic and someone who wouldn't hurt her. She kept her eyes closed and tried to drown herself in the feeling of it.

She lay on her stomach only a moment before her bladder was prodded sharply from within by an indignant foot.

She curled onto her side, looking at Draco.

His hair had fallen across his face. It was as though she were in a dream.

She reached out tentatively and used her fingertips to catch up the platinum strands and brush them away. She wanted to memorise him all over again. In the golden light, he no longer looked like something carved out of a war. His features were softer when his expression was relaxed. She trailed her eyes along the arch of his cheekbones, his lips, the precise lines of his jaw, and his pale throat disappearing into the shadows of his clothing.

He could have been a painting.

She wanted to hold her breath and make the moment last forever.

She slipped her fingers along the shell of his ear to brush away his hair. His eyes opened, grey as a storm. She watched the light fill them as he looked at her.

The way he stared at her made the rest of the world fade away. His gaze was as possessive and ravenous as she felt.

She shifted closer and kissed him. His lips moved against hers, and his hand slid up her throat.

After a minute, she drew back wistfully. "I need to check your arm."

He sighed but sat up without complaint when she started casting spells, verifying that everything was still healing properly. She rebandaged his arm as she finished. When she was putting his sling back on, her fingertips brushed against the pale skin of his throat. They lingered.

She looked up at his face and found that his eyes were dark and intent as he stared back at her. He reached out slowly with his hand and laced his fingers gently through her hair. Her breath caught, and her pulse quickened.

His touch was safety. Home.

"I love you," he said after a moment.

Hermione's lips curved slowly in a faint smile. "I love you too."

He ran his fingers slowly through her hair. "I never imagined I'd say that to you without a Dark Mark branded into me."

Hermione's jaw trembled.

She lifted her hand to his face, tracing lightly along his jaw, feeling the faint stubble under her fingertips. "The universe finally gave us something."

He gave a low laugh, and his fingers tangled in her hair tightened possessively.

She shifted closer and leaned forward until their lips were barely touching. "I love you. As long as there is anything of me that exists, I will love you. Always," she whispered against his mouth.

He closed the infinitesimal space between them.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His hand left her hair and gripped her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together.

Mine. Mine. Mine. She felt ravenous for him. She wanted to hoard him away inside her heart and bury him there. Time always ran out for them. Things always fell apart, and what they'd taken was all they'd had. They'd survived on moments they stole during the war.

She felt as though she had starved to death from wanting him.

She wasn't going to let him go.

She wasn't going to let things fall apart this time. Her heart started pounding painfully. I can't lose him. I can't lose him.

Her throat and chest began to tighten. She squeezed her eyes closed and shoved her terror back, as far as she could, trying to wall it away before it swallowed her whole.

She wasn't going to panic. She forced herself to breathe, a ragged gasp against his lips.

She ran her fingers along his throat and gripped his shoulders as she forced herself to occlude everything and kept kissing him. Then she drew her lips away so she could stare at him. Her hand dropped down to grip his.

"I'm going to take care of you." She held his hand tighter and pressed it against her chest. "I'm yours, as long as you want me."

His hand slid up to cradle her face. He stared at her, his silver eyes intent. "Always. As long as I live."

She poured herself into him until there wasn't space in her mind for anything else. She kissed him again until she was breathless.

She could kiss him without it meaning goodbye, without wondering if she'd ever see him again. She could be with him just because she could, because he was hers.

"I love you," she kept saying against his lips. "I love you. I will always love you."

She could say it as many times as she wanted. Every day for the rest of her life. She could say it and say it.

She gave a low sob against his lips.

Draco drew back, studying her, his expression tensed.

She gripped his shoulders more tightly as she met his eyes. "I'm happy. I didn't think I was ever going to be happy again, but I think this is what being happy feels like. We survived, Draco. I saved you. I didn't think we would, but we survived."

His mouth curved into a slow smile.

They made love. Slowly. Using all the time they had.

Hermione sat astride him, setting the pace, watching him. The sun was shining outside, and she could feel it on her skin as she looked down and entwined their fingers, canting her hips against his. She could see the light catch in his hair. His eyes shone like molten silver.

Their world was warm.

It grew warmer when he sat up, pulling her hips flush against his as he kissed her. His hand trailed along her spine, gripping her. She could feel the burn of him in her soul. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tracing her fingers along his runes as they moved together.

"We should take the portkey soon," he said when they were lying in bed together afterwards. "I'm certain Nix's food qualifies as a health hazard. I'm realising now that basic cooking spells are something I never bothered to learn."

Hermione glanced over, and her eyes landed on several burnt slices of toast, spread over-generously with preserve. Draco picked up the least burnt slice and offered it to her.

"He's a stable elf. I don't think he's cooked before in his life."

Hermione nibbled hesitantly on a corner and discovered that the toast was caraway rye bread which clashed intensely with the strawberry preserve.

She choked, and Draco gave her an apologetic look.

He looked around the room. "This was just temporary safe house. I didn't do much more than ward it." He turned back to look at her. "Are you able to portkey?"

Her stomach plummeted, and her hands crept protectively down to her stomach. Draco's eyes followed them.

"I don't know." She looked down at the swell of her stomach, running her hands nervously over it. "Last time—I didn't take a Calming Draught beforehand. I didn't expect it. It was—it was hard to handle."

Draco's expression tensed, and something indecipherable flickered in his eyes.

She forced herself to smile. "But if we do things properly—if I'm ready for it, and it's just the once—I think it could be alright."

He was silent for several seconds. "We don't have to go. We could stay here. I'll let Ginny know you can't safely travel."

She looked down at her stomach again. "It's not very safe here though, is it? We're still in Europe. Denmark has a treaty with Voldemort; the terms of the armistice require them to turn fugitives over. Even if they didn't, they'd never protect you." She drew a deep breath and looked up. "It'll be fine. Maybe—just a day or so longer, then we'll go."

Draco's expression had closed; he stared at her stomach for a moment before nodding.

She got up and took a shower. She still had dust in her hair from the explosion in the manor, and the curls were badly tangled. She spent ten minutes hand-detangling them before she remembered she had a wand again. She dried it and braided it loosely in a long plait. By the time she was tying it off, her headache had come back. It bore through the back of her skull until she could barely keep standing. She pulled her shirt and knickers back on, downed a nutrition potion, and then curled around her stomach in a miserable heap in the bed, falling asleep again.

When she woke the next morning, there was a brain diagnostic hanging over her head. Draco was staring at it with a drawn expression as he manipulated the reading.

It felt like being dunked into cold water. The warmth vanished, and she lay frozen for a moment, staring at all the scarlet, thread-like fractals branching through her brain. She reached up and shoved his wand away. The diagnostic disappeared.

She looked away towards the window.

There was a long silence.

"Hermione, what happened? What did he do to you? Are you going to tell me?"

She was quiet for several minutes, swallowing hard before she finally spoke.

"I'm not actually sure. He didn't know how to use legilimency, so he just—crushed things that were in the way. Even now that I have my occlumency back—there are certain spots in my memories that I can't—can't reach them anymore. It—feels like a building where parts have collapsed. I feel like if I go near or disturb it—more might fall apart."

She pressed her lips together. "Some of the things I started to remember again—I don't know if I'll still remember them after a while. Every time I wake up, they feel like they've faded. The details are all disappearing."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly against her cheek. "What—" his voice was tense, "what do you not remember? What's fading?"

Hermione was silent. "All the times you told me about your mother. There are gaps in those memories now."

Draco gave a heavy sigh of relief. "That's fine. That's fine. You don't need to remember that."

Hermione just stared out the window and swallowed again. "It's not fine. Those were important. They were important to me, that you told me, that I understood what happened to you. I'm afraid my memory is going to fall apart someday. Like there are cracks all over now, and someday something will push it wrong, and it will all break. What if I forget you again?" She couldn't hide her rising panic. "All that time in the manor, I felt like my heart had been torn out of my chest. You were right there—and I didn't know I was looking for you."

The warmth and tranquility of the cabin suddenly felt mocking. Like it was all a daydream she was clinging to.

He turned her face so that their eyes met. "It wouldn't be the same."

She nodded, but her mouth twisted. "I know. I know that rationally. I just—" her eyes dropped as her voice started shaking. "I don't know how to believe it. As soon as I start thinking, my heart starts pounding, and I can't breathe. Even when I try to occlude, it's like my body won't stop panicking. I should be relieved, but I'm just as terrified that I'll lose you as I was in the manor. I feel like I'm still holding on with my fingertips. Every second feels only moments away from everything falling apart and turning back into a nightmare."

She drew a ragged breath and sat up, pressing her hand against her sternum as she made herself breathe slowly. She stared down at her wrists. "I—I thought that everything would be fixed once my manacles were off and we escaped. I thought I'd be better—the way I used to be..."

Her voice faded away.

"You must know you're reaching the point where the damage is becoming irreversible."

She sat frozen as she recalled it.

It had always been an illusion to think her manacles were the key to everything. That some previous version of Hermione Granger was merely lying in wait, ready to step forward the moment her magic was unlocked and her occlumency returned.

The realisation felt like reaching out and touching the surface of a lake, watching the golden sunlit reflection distort and ripple away, revealing all the darkness that still lurked beneath. That showed what was really there.

Darkness gets into your soul.

Mind or body, Dark Magic extracts a price.

She'd known she'd pay for it all eventually.

Draco picked up her hand, running his thumb over her bared wrists. "It's all new. Give it time."

She stared at him and nodded wistfully. As she studied him, she realised that there was a pained tension in his face.

She shoved the heaviness in her chest back from her awareness, walling it away, and sat up, reaching for her wand.

She pulled her satchel opened and reached for one of the pain potions. Her hand froze as she realised her potion inventory looked wrong. She counted vials and found that she was a half-dozen Blood-Replenishing Potions short. She stared for several seconds before summoning Draco's robes from where they were hung over the foot of the bed and burying her face in them.

They smelled of Dark Magic.

As she sat absorbing it, she realised she'd felt dramatically calmer ever since he'd dosed her with Dreamless Sleep Draught.

She looked over at Draco, anger flaring through her like an explosion. "You shouldn't use blood magic. Your blood is thin now. You could bleed to death if you're not careful. There's no reason to add so many enchantments to a safe house we're not even staying in for long. It was idiotic."

Draco just stared at her through hooded eyes as she started rapidly casting spells on him.

"It helped you feel better."

She glared at him. "Injuring and endangering yourself so I'll feel better doesn't make me feel better."

He didn't say anything else while she checked him over and dosed him with several potions. She removed the bandages on his arm in order to change them and check how his arm was healing. The skin was knitting together smoothly, and she massaged it gently with Essence of Dittany.

She took his hand in hers and started treating his tremors for several minutes in silence.

"Don't hurt yourself for me, Draco," she finally said in stiff voice. "Stop hurting yourself. I am so tired of that being the way we care for each other. You have no idea how much I hate it when you hurt yourself because of me. You hate it when I'm hurt. It's the same for me with you."

He still didn't say anything. He didn't look penitent either.

While she was working on his hand, a tray with more inedible food appeared. They both took nutritional potions instead. Hermione's stock of them was beginning to run low.

She took a careful inventory of everything she had left, mentally calculating how many more days they could stay if they chose to.

"I could brew more if we want to stay longer," she said, looking up at Draco.

"Whatever you want." He smiled at her, but he'd dressed and put on his cloak while she was taking inventory. As she was staring at him, she noticed his eyes flicker over towards the window subtly.

"We should go." She pulled the satchel onto her shoulder and shoved the rest of their belongings into it. "I'm sure—I'm sure it will be alright. It'll just be once."

She pulled out a vial of Calming Draught and stared at it for several seconds before taking it. She entwined her fingers tightly with Draco's and drew a deep breath, forcing herself to occlude the anxiety rushing through her like a tidal wave before the potion activated.

She squeezed Draco's hand, running her thumb over his knuckles and stopping at the ring he wore. She looked up at him and gave a tentative smile before she reached out, grasping the brass key hanging on the wall.

There was a sharp tug behind her navel. She was snatched up, pulling Draco with her.

She tried to stay on her feet as she landed, but she stumbled forward and collapsed, retching. She wrenched her hand from Draco's and pressed the heel of her hand against her stomach as it contracted taut.

"Oh god," she groaned as she pushed herself up and struggled to breathe.

She felt Draco's hand on the small of her back as she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to inhale slowly. Slowly. The rigidity in her abdomen gradually faded.

She could smell earth and bracken.

She opened her eyes and found that they were kneeling in a forest. "Are we there?"

There was a sliding sound and a crack as wood struck wood. Hermione looked over her shoulder. There was a large wooden house behind them.

Ginny stood in the doorway, staring at them, a wand gripped in her hand.