"He didn't," Hermione said quickly, her chest constricting. "He didn't. You got there in time."
His eyes flooded with relief, but his mouth sharpened into a razor-edged smile. "Well, there's that."
He gave a short laugh and looked down at the floor. "Where was I? Ah yes. Finding you with your eye nearly gouged out because my wife had attempted to blind you. Finding you bludgeoning yourself against a window. Watching you waste away because I'd gotten you pregnant. Arriving to see you collapse and then learn that the damage from your occlumency and the foetal magic was so severe you might not ever wake up — that I might have killed you."
He had turned white. His lips thinned as his mouth twisted and then curved into a sneer. "Is that not enough? There are, undoubtedly, still unexplored depths to the potential misery between us. Should we endeavor to achieve all of it?"
He released a sharp breath, and his expression closed again. "If I removed your manacles, instead of having you taken to safety, I could put a wand in your hand and apparate you, pregnant, into the Dark Lord's Hall. It's been two years since you used magic, you can barely manage to walk up the stairs, and you still hardly eat anything, but never mind all that. Surely fighting for the greater good counts for something at some point."
Hermione flinched.
Draco's expression could have been carved from marble. "If I took you there, there's a marginal chance that if I were protecting you, or Severus and I both were, that you might be able to kill the Dark Lord before he summoned other Death Eaters. In which case, we would all die immediately because the paranoid monster has his castle cursed to collapse upon his death; one of his innumerable safety mechanisms."
He cocked his head back. "Or, more likely, we'd fail to kill him, because I've already tried dozens of times, and no matter who I sent or what method they tried, the attempt always failed. In which case I would have the option of killing you myself or watching as you were captured again and they locked manacles around both our wrists. Do you suppose he'd kill us quickly?"
Hermione shook her head, her throat too tight to breathe.
"No." Draco's eyes were ice although his expression remained carefully contained. "He would make it last. I've seen him do it — when he has an example to make of someone. He's drawn it out for weeks on occasion. He brings in healers to keep them alive until he's done."
She could see the terror in his eyes. He looked away, over to the portrait of Narcissa. His eyes wouldn't stay; his gaze swept on.
He stared almost blankly at the far wall. "He'd kill you first. He'd have our history by then; I'm sure he'd use my mind as a reference. I've had more than two years to imagine all the things that could happen to you. All the things I thought might have been happening to you." His voice was almost deadened. "I'm sure he would make a point of doing all of them."
The edges of the room were blurring. Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn't work.
He gave a low sigh and rested a hand against the doorframe. "This isn't a new opportunity for you and your Gryffindor obstinance to try to save everyone." He sighed. "Believe me, I would run with you if I could. I always would have—" His voice faded for a moment.
"That was never an option, now was it? 'Aid the Order in defeating the Dark Lord to the best of my ability.' Moody didn't include an expiration date or any exemptions on that." He gave a bitter smirk for a moment before growing cold again. "The Dark Lord is on borrowed time. He has no hope of living more than a few years. The Wizarding world is sufficiently disillusioned with his ideology and reign, particularly with the spectacle he's now made with a repopulation program. When things destabilize, the regime will fall, and the International Confederation will step in and claim credit the way they usually do." A smile ghosted across his face as he looked at her. "In a few years, you may get that world you wanted. That — I can try to give you."
"No!" She said it forcefully.
His eyes were silver, and they flickered as he stared at her. "You always said you couldn't choose me over everyone else. I'm chained to a sinking ship. You cannot expect me to take you with me."
"I was lying—!" Her hands were shaking, and she was holding herself so rigidly she'd started rocking as she tried to breathe and not start crying. "I wasn't going to — Draco—"
She dropped her head down and pressed her hand against her sternum as she forced herself to inhale, gasping raggedly. The air burned in her lungs, and she kept gasping again and again, faster and faster.
Draco's hard expression faded, and he crossed the room.
He knelt down in front of her. Hesitantly, as though he were approaching a skittish animal, he reached out and rested his hands gently on her shoulders.
"Granger, breathe. Breathe. You have to breathe." His expression was open and pleading.
She gave a low sob and dropped her head down until their foreheads touched.
"Breathe, please breathe." He kept saying to her. The heat of his hands sank through her clothing and into her skin as she squeezed her eyes closed and forced herself to breathe slowly until her chest stopped spasming.
"Draco — there has to be another way." She reached out, hands shaking, and touched his face. "I need you to live. You're mine. We said we'd run away together. Remember? Somewhere no one would find us."
His expression froze, and he glanced down, blinking repeatedly, before giving a hollow laugh under his breath. His hands slipped up from her shoulders, and he tilted her face so he could look into her eyes. "I would try to do anything you asked if I could."
The wistful way he said it cut her to the quick.
"Then please—" She traced across his cheekbones and captured the curve of his jaw with her fingertips. His face was only a breath away from hers. "Draco — there has to be another way. We can find it. I can — now that I remember — I'll help you."
Her voice was low, and it wavered. "I know — I'm not the same as I was, but you promised — I need you. I need you to live. Even at Hogwarts — when I thought you must be dead — I kept holding on because I'll never go without you. I'll never leave you behind. You have to find another way."
He released a short breath and pulled her closer, pressing his lips against her forehead. "Granger — Granger, this has been the plan since the day the Dark Lord assigned you to me."
Hermione started and stared in horror as he continued.
"If I'd found you, I might have been able to manage something else, but once you were a person of interest to the Dark Lord and he wanted you assigned to Severus or me, there wasn't any means of getting you out that didn't involve compromising one of us. Severus couldn't take you to Romania without violating the terms of his Vow. It had to be me."
"No..."
He brushed his thumbs along her cheeks. "I can't kill the Dark Lord; Severus and I have tried. I can't run with you, even if I could remove my mark. This is defeating the Dark Lord to the best of my ability. It will get you out. You'll be safe after this."
Hermione gripped his hands. "I don't want to be safe. I want you to be alive. Make a new plan."
He sighed and met her eyes. "Whatever I wanted if I saved Ginny. Granger, you promised. I want you to live, leave this world behind and live. That's what I always wanted for you. You have promises to keep. You have to take care of Ginny. You swore to Potter that you would."
"I promised to take care of you first. Always. I promised you always," she said fiercely. Her voice was shaking and she couldn't stop crying. She could feel her tears collecting against his fingers. "You weren't even going to tell me, were you? You said February. You were going to send me away, and I wouldn't have even remembered you yet. I wouldn't have even known until it was too late — And last week, you said I'd see you again."