Severus appeared to be at a loss for words for the first time in his life. His mouth twitched repeatedly.
“Do you — wish to…” he trailed off for a moment. “Do you want to talk about — it?”
Hermione stared at him, horrified. “No.”
He looked visibly relieved, gave a short nod and glanced around the kitchen. “You're not injured — are you? Do you need me to—”
“He wasn't violent,” she said sharply, cutting off Severus' question. She folded her arms around herself and jerked her head. Her voice was very tight, as though her throat couldn't relax. “It was just — abrupt.”
Severus looked down and straightened the cuffs of his robes for several seconds. Then he turned sharply and swept over to the cauldrons, flicking his wand over several and then swirling their contents with the stirring rods. He peered down at them.
He waved his wand, summoned a set of vials from a cabinet and ladled the potions into the vials, stoppering them all with practiced ease. Severus turned toward her and his expression flickered, revealing a grief that Hermione had only ever caught glimpses of.
He walked toward Hermione and stopped less than a foot in front of her.
There was pause. He looked down and shuffled the vials in his hands. “These should relieve any residual discomfort from the — breaching.”
Hermione felt her face grow hot and stared at the potions in his hands. She recognized them. Expensive pain relief.
“It's not — that bad,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Besides — I can make my own potions, Severus.”
His expression grew cold. “You are allowed to have other people care for you. I know you well enough to know you wouldn't make these potions for yourself, because too many of the ingredients are imported. Take them, unless you prefer I send word to Minerva about what you did today.”
At the threat, Hermione snatched the vials out of his hands and shoved them into her satchel. She looked up to find Severus still staring down at her. His expression was unreadable.
“What is it?”
“Are you alright?” His voice was soft.
Hermione stood staring at him. No. She wasn't. She hadn't been in — she didn't know when she'd last been alright. She didn't know how to be alright anymore.
Severus' expression was visibly concerned, and it made Hermione flinch and bristle inwardly. She had parents. Parents who were alive and happy, even if they wouldn't ever remember having a daughter. She had parents. She didn't need new ones. She didn't need more people who 'cared' for her by telling her she was making the wrong decisions. She already had Minerva, Harry, and most of the Weasley Family doing that.
“I'm fine,” she said stiffly. “I wasn't trying to make it seem like I did anything monumental. I just needed a bathroom so I could fix my hair.”
He sighed. “You—“ He hesitated and fell silent.
“What?” she asked, her throat contracting with dread when he stayed silent and just kept staring at her with an expression of conflict in his eyes.
Was it not enough? Maybe an Unbreakable Vow still wouldn't be enough. Was there something else she could do? She swallowed repeatedly and tried to think, twisting the strap of her satchel tightly around her fingers. Maybe—
“You are without a doubt the most exceptional asset the Order possesses. I am sorry for that.”
Hermione's hands stilled, and she stared at him for a moment. Then she choked and burst into tears.
He stood watching her cry for a several minutes before hesitantly resting a hand on her shoulder.
The next week, Moody accompanied Hermione to Whitecroft.
They stood together silently in the rain until the door swung open, and the shack slowly bled into view.
Draco stood framed in the door, staring at her.
Hermione walked toward him, the uneven tread of Moody's steps behind her. When she reached the steps, she paused and looked up at Draco.
He didn't meet her eyes as he stepped back to give them space to enter.
He looked gaunt. Tired. But she could feel his gaze on her.
If Moody had any reaction to the shack, it was not visible in his expression. He glanced around at the walls and then studied the floor for a strangely long time.
Hermione looked down; as her eyes swept across the room she noticed with horror that there were spots of blood on one of the floorboards. She wasn't positive, but she thought it was approximately where she'd been on the floor when she and Draco had sex. She looked up sharply. Draco was also looking at the floor and appeared to have just noticed it too. He paled noticeably, and his expression grew black as he looked up at Moody, who was still silently studying the floor.
Hermione felt ready to die from the embarrassment, while Draco appeared to be on the verge of exploding with rage by the time Moody looked up from the floor and stared at Draco.
The air was tense. Deadly. Like a forest going abruptly silent. Defined by what was absent. The air between Draco and Moody was deathly cold. Hermione's heart was pounding as she stood between them. Neither had their wands drawn, but Hermione felt as though an unexpected sound might cause them to whip them out and Avada each other.
“You'll make a Vow?” Moody asked after several moments of silence.
“Isn't that why you're here?” Draco said, sneering.
Moody gave a sharp nod and then, with deliberate slowness, drew his wand. Draco's expression tensed further, but he didn't so much as twitch.
“Take each other's right hands,” Moody instructed in a gravelly voice.
Hermione lifted hers, and Draco reached out and took it. His eyes shone silver as his fingers wrapped around hers.
“Kneel,” Moody said after a moment.
Hermione dropped to her knees, and Draco did the same across from her. Moody lowered his wand and rested the tip against their conjoined hands.
Hermione stared at Draco and her hand shook in his. “Will you, Draco Malfoy, aid the Order of the Phoenix in defeating Lord Voldemort to the best of your ability?”
His eyes met hers. “I will.”
At his words a thin tongue of red flame issued from Moody's wand and wound its way around their hands. It was hot enough to burn, but neither of them flinched.
“And after his defeat, will you promise never to claim his power or become a Dark Lord?”
Draco didn't hesitate. “I will.”
A second flame twisted itself around their hands.
Hermione gripped his hand for a moment longer and then let go. The strands of flame tightened around their hands for a moment and then sank into their skin. As Hermione drew her hand away, it almost felt as though there were threads joining them that snapped as their hands parted.
There was a pause, and Draco stood and stared at Moody again.
“You can go, Granger. I believe Moody and I have things to discuss,” Draco said without looking at her.
Hermione hesitated.
“Go, Granger,” Moody said. “You can return to the safe house.”
Hermione turned reluctantly and left. Draco didn't look at her as she pulled the door shut. He was glaring at Moody.
Moody returned to Grimmauld Place an hour later. Hermione was waiting on the stairs. She didn't expect him to tell her what he and Draco had discussed in her absence, but she hoped he'd at least give her some indication.
He stared at her for a moment after closing the door. “Good work, Granger.”
Then he walked further into the house without another word.
Chapter End Notes
Additional Illustrations:
"The most exceptional asset..." by winchesterchola.
The Unbreakable Vow by iam_rosetta