Author's Note: I. AM. BACK. I found a small sliver of motivation to complete this story. It still needs an endless amount of work, and I am painfully aware of the plotholes, choppy writing, and elementary mistakes I've made, but The Labyrinth is my first fanfic and I'll be damned if I leave it unfinished.

I want to take a moment to thank the lovely, fantastic, kindest MCal. She took her very precious time and gave me feedback/ beta help for this chapter. Without her, this may have never been ready to post. Go check out her work, she really is FANTASTIC.

For all of you who have stuck by, left reviews and love on this story, I see you and I appreciate every single one of you. THANK YOU.

I now have a Tumblr. Check me out at AMJohnons0518 for updates on stories, snippets, mood boards, and more!

-AMJ

The Labyrinth
Chapter 12

The hours spent waiting for Blaise to arrive at the cottage were maddening. Draco felt Hermione's leg nervously bouncing beside him on the couch and he watched as she nervously bit her nails down to the skin. Though unnerving to Draco, watching Hermione's incessant chewing was far better than trying to observe Harry, who had made him dizzy with his circular pacing of the room. Ron and Ginny sat huddled in the corner with Mrs. Weasley, who let out a series of loud sniffles, jarring the silence every few minutes.

When the fireplace roared to life, everyone in the room leapt to their feet and crowded the stone hearth.

"No need to fight, there is enough of me to go around," Blaise teased lightly, but his body remained tense. When his gaze landed on Draco, who was closely hovered over Hermione's shoulder, Blaise quirked an eyebrow. Even under the cloud of his somber mood, a genuine smile unfurled on his face. "Draco, excellent to see you here, mate. You look much better."

Draco simply nodded in response, awkward at the momentary attention. Sensing his discomfort, Hermione suggested everyone take a seat.

When the remaining Order members had again settled, Blaise cleared his throat. "Right then, let's get to it, I don't have long to speak. We have two weeks before we can go into the Labyrinth to retrieve Arthur, Remus, and Luna. To my knowledge, all are still alive and somewhere on level four with the rest of the prisoners."

"Two weeks?" Ginny cried out in frustration. "They are likely to be dead by then. We have to try sooner. "

"I can't risk it," Blaise disagreed sharply. "This is the best you will get from me. It would be suicide to request a new shift time. The Dark Lord is still on edge over Draco and Hermione's recent escape. I can't risk giving away my position."

A chill settled over the room. It was easy to forget that Hermione and Draco were still being hunted daily by the Dark Lord.

"We won't push the issue then," Hermione agreed with a bleak nod. "Has he changed the Labyrinth at all, in light of our escape?" Hermione asked, her voice heavy with concern.

"Not that I am aware of," Blaise shrugged in regret. "He keeps everything close to himself now. Very few of us are let in the weaker he grows. There are rumors he's barely surviving. After he tried to kill Potter again, something changed in him."

"There's not much left of him to kill," Harry whispered angrily. "If he is truly down to one Horcrux, and himself, is it possible he could just waste away with enough time?"

"Theoretically, but it could take a very, very long time," Hermione stated gravely. "He won't die from this, just as he didn't last time."

"And we are no closer to finding any new Horcruxes," Ron moped. "We need to have a serious discussion about what our next plan is after we rescue my father and the others. We are running out of time, and we can't keep risking these insane missions with no plan forward."

Blaise nodded in agreement. "Merlin, forgive me for saying this, but Ron is right. Without a proper way to kill Voldemort, we are harpies being picked off one by one. If everyone you love dies, what is there left to fight for?"

"We are not giving up," Harry vehemently argued. "We are so close. If we don't end this, no one ever will, and regardless of how weak Voldemort is, he will continue to destroy everything we know."

Mrs. Weasley sniffled again. "Harry, dear, I can't bear to lose anyone else. It could be time to plan for us to hide more permanently until we have a better way to defeat him." Ginny wrapped an arm around her mother's shaking shoulders.

"We don't have to make a decision now, mate," Ron said as he held up his hands. "But we should discuss it."

Harry gnashed his teeth. "Let's focus on the rescue for now," he conceded.

Hermione noticed Draco was twisting his fingers under the table. He looked lost. When he finally met her gaze, she placed the emotion; guilt colored his pale features.

To ease her own urge to comfort him, Hermione turned her attention toward Blaise. "What do you need from us?"

"I need you to be focused on Horcrux hunting for the next two weeks, it might be the last chance we get. Unfortunately, it's likely the captured Order members will be interrogated about our two escapees. Do Arthur and Remus know occlumency?"

Molly shook her head sadly. "Not well at all, unfortunately. After the battle, there were very few people to teach us anymore," she said, her tone pitching upwards under the strain of her emotions.

"If Arthur and Remus are interrogated for information, it might be safest to plan on moving locations. The cottage may be compromised," Blaise warned severely. "I'll have the portkey ready at exactly midnight in two weeks' time. Defer to the same protocol we used to get Kingsley in. I'll try and make one more visit before then."

Blaise faced Harry and winced slightly at the remnants of Harry's typical stubbornness; his jaw was tense and he was grinding his teeth together. "We've run out of time, Harry. I know you want to end this, but there will never be an end if you all die this round. Perhaps the long game is the best strategy."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. Two weeks was not nearly enough time to locate a Horcrux, not when they had no inkling of where to begin.

Blaise felt the tension in the room growing, and he stood from his seat. "I think it's time I go. If you change locations, you know how to contact me. And should anything change on my end, I'll inform you when I can."

Molly Weasley walked over to Blaise and enveloped him in a hug the way only a mother could. "Be safe, dear," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Blaise, thank you for everything." Though Harry's muscles were strained under the weight of his anger, he still patted Blaise on the back warmly.

From beneath Molly's hug, Blaise gave Draco a pointed look and nodded before stepping into the fire and disappearing from the room

The weight of the air intensified and Hermione found her breath sticking to the insides of her throat. They had to wait another two weeks. It felt impossibly long.

Everyone stood from the table. Hermione opened her mouth to speak as Ron passed, but he turned his head and ignored her. Ginny trailed behind him, but she lightly lifted her shoulder, as if telling Hermione to give him more time, and she too departed.

Regardless of Ginny's gesture, Hermione felt endless guilt for her lack of friendship with her former companion. His family had sacrificed so much for this cause, so much for her. Temper aside, she promised herself she would speak with him tomorrow.

"Harry," Hermione's voice caused him to pause in the doorway. "Draco had a suggestion that I haven't been able to get out of my head."

Harry's face grew impassive at the mention of Draco, but he turned to listen.

Hermione contemplated her words before speaking. "Voldemort chose Horcruxes that were significant, both to his power and his life. Do you think we haven't gone back far enough in Voldemort's history to find the last Horcrux?"

"Hermione, Dumbledore poured over every memory we have, it's impossible."

"Right, but what I am suggesting would be in a memory we don't have."

"And how the fuck are we supposed to analyze a memory we don't have?" Harry growled impatiently.

"It would be a happy memory, one from his days at the orphanage perhaps? Long before Hogwarts."

"We tried that already, remember? The orphanage is gone, there are no remains, and no objects left. He'd want to leave his muggle past behind him," Harry responded.

"Everyone has at least one happy memory of their childhood, and the fewer you have, the more valuable they become," Draco spoke softly, reading Hermione's thoughts. Harry looked over, as though he had forgotten the other man was still in the room. "What if there were one moment or thing from the orphanage that he cherished?"

"Let's say for a moment that we can locate a person who has memories of him at the orphanage, what are you going to find? I've seen his days from the orphanage, it's all bare. He owned nothing. He loathed the place."

"We won't know that without the memories of his time there." Hermione held her chin up, and clicked her teeth together in mild frustration. "Harry, I've been thinking, how did Voldemort know this type of magic existed? It's not taught at Hogwarts, and it's unlikely he randomly stumbled upon it during his reading. So it begs the question of how Voldemort even knew where to look for this type of magic. It's certainly specific, and very few wizards had even heard of it."

"I'm assuming you have a theory already," Draco pressed. He was invested in what Hermione was proposing, and he could see from the way that Harry's body had started to lean towards Hermione, he too was beginning to take interest in her thoughts.

"What if Voldemort unknowingly created a sort of Horcrux, but perhaps he did it earlier than we thought. Maybe there was a reason he knew to even look for soul magic in the first place. Almost as if he were trying to explain an inexplicable event in his childhood."

Harry balked, and his green eyes went wide in disbelief.

"That's insane," Draco coolly hissed, mirroring Harry's expression. "Do you understand the complexities of the magic? This isn't a child accidentally transfiguring a cup, or moving their toys around. This is dark, ancient, ritualistic magic, and it doesn't happen unintentionally."

Harry groaned and gripped his messy hair; he finally understood, and it made him feel enraged at how obvious it all seemed now. "But it has happened before."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked sternly.

Hermione chimed in. "Voldemort unknowingly made a Horcrux of sorts the night he tried to kill Harry. Voldemort's killing curse rebounded off of Harry, because of a protection his mother had left behind. His soul, which was unstable from so many splits, instinctively sought out something living." Hermione saw a crease form on Draco's forehead. "Harry was an accidental Horcrux. Well," Hermione corrected herself, "He wasn't a full Horcrux. Voldemort hadn't cast all the ritualistic magic necessary to create a proper receptacle in Harry. Harry was in many ways different from the other Horcruxes, more rudimentary, less powerful, decidedly less evil. That's what I'm suggesting here. Not a full Horcrux, but a small, first attempt, something that would have led Tom on a journey towards seeking out more."

"You're saying he made a Horcrux without meaning to...in… in Potter?" Draco looked utterly flabbergasted.

"Precisely," Hermione confirmed.

"Potter houses a piece of the Dark Lord's soul?" Draco murmured darkly.

"No," Harry forcefully denied.

"Not anymore. I'll explain that to you when we have more time," Hermione promised, and Draco's heart momentarily sped up at the casual turn of their relationship; he felt trusted. "What's essential now," Hermione continued, "is that I'm suggesting that he made another one, perhaps on accident, and much earlier in his life."

"That would have required him to murder someone before he arrived at Hogwarts," Harry argued.

"Or during one of his summer breaks. It's a start," Hermione responded with a crisp finality. "It's one of the few things we haven't tried, and, with only two weeks…" her voice trailed off. "Couldn't we locate another child who was at the orphanage with him? Someone who had memories of Tom?"

"It's going to be nearly impossible. Dumbledore couldn't manage it."

"Dumbledore didn't have me," Hermione said with a sense of renewed confidence. "Tomorrow, gather all the memories we have of the orphanage, and we can start there. I'll begin researching the children that passed through at the same time as Tom." Hermione sucked her lip between her teeth. "I might need to visit a muggle library. It could help me locate the children faster."

"No," Harry disagreed. "It's too risky."

"We're out of time." Hermione vehemently shook her head. "It must get done, or else Blaise is right, Harry- we will have to put everything on hold until we destroy the Horcrux. We can't win without a plan," Hermione finished sadly, her words cracking at the edges. "Not this time."

"Hermione, we are chasing nothing but hunches-"

"Which is how we located nearly all of the others-"

"Fine," Harry agreed solemnly, knowing he lost the battle against his stubborn friend. "Tomorrow we go through some old memories, and we will somehow get you to a library, but only if it is safe. "

Hermione bumped her shoulder against his in reassurance. "We'll figure this out, Harry. We always do."

Tipping his head to give a curt nod, Harry disappeared through the doorway, leaving Draco and Hermione in the living room alone.

Draco was unusually solemn, and the mask he slipped so easily upon his face was cracking at the seams.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Hermione whispered, careful not to startle him too quickly out of wherever his mind had traveled.

"I'm more expensive than that Granger," Draco responded with a humorless smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, I'm not made of money," Hermione quipped.

Draco stared at his hands' which were capable of killing and torture and causing chaos. "Mrs. Weasley doesn't deserve to feel this," Draco began, thinking of her warm hug for Blaise. "She's unbelievably kind."

His own mother was so outwardly different, but her ability to know the right things to do or say in his times of need was uncanny. "Since I've arrived, she's brought me food, and always seems to know how to care for me. She's a good mother."

Hermione listened closely, hanging on the inflections behind his every word. "You're not the only one with Weasley guilt," Hermione murmured. "What prompted this?"

"I can't help but think of my part in the Dark Lord's rise." Draco paused in contemplation. "And now Blaise, who should have never been involved in any of this, is risking his life. We should be running far away from this, Granger. All of us."

"You have a choice now, to right any wrongs of your past. Do you think Mrs. Weasley cares that Blaise has a mark on his arm? Or that Snape did before him? We've gone over this before, you aren't responsible for what Voldemort does. You can only control your own actions," Hermione passionately reassured him. "Do you want to run?"

"Very much so," Draco admitted, ashamed of the cowardice he had inherited from his father. "We should all be trying to live, and instead you're making every decision that leads us towards death… towards the Labyrinth."

"No one will force you to go into the Labyrinth," Hermione avowed. "You're not a part of this if you don't want to be."

"I don't," Draco said with astounding honesty. "But you're wrong, for once, Hermione. I am very much a part of this. This is my choice. It's bloody stupid, and I'll probably die with the rest of you lot, but it's the only decision I feel right making," Draco revealed.

Hermione gazed up at Draco with intensity. "You're brave, Draco," And then, like she could read his inner heartstrings, "Despite what I've called you in the past, you're no coward. You've just never been given the opportunity to be who you are," she finished softly.

Draco's cheeks tinged a slight pink. "No need to get sappy, Granger," he muttered.

Hermione chuckled but chose to end his suffering by changing the subject. "I'd like it if you assisted Harry and I. If we can locate any of Voldemort's old classmates at the orphanage, we could use an extra set of eyes on any memories we reclaim."

Draco nodded, his eyes brightening at the prospect of having something to do during the day besides sit with his thoughts. "I can do that," he accepted earnestly.

"Good," Hermione breathed, and she was truly pleased. The progress he had made this week was remarkable. Flashes of his old personality were coming back into focus. "I'm going to rest. I'll see you in the morning," she said as she got to her feet, leaving Draco to continue reflecting on his new role.

It was late into the witching hour when Draco knocked at Hermione's bedroom door softly.

"Granger?" He quietly called out. "Are you awake?"

Less than a moment passed before the door swung open. A casually dressed, barefoot woman appeared. The hem of her shirt grazed the tops of her thighs, and her night shorts were mostly covered by the worn t-shirt, showing off a significant amount of her legs. Draco's stomach flipped, and he fought against his own eyes, battling to keep focused on her face.

Her brow furrowed at his strained expression. "Is everything alright?"

Draco tugged at the ends of his platinum hair. "I've been thinking about what Blaise said tonight, and I believe we may not have much longer to uncover my memories."

Hermione dropped her chin towards her chest. "You're probably right. I'm so sorry there wasn't more I could give you," she whispered regretfully.

"That's not what I mean," Draco chastised. "I know you've done far more than you should, and I'm thankful for your help." Draco lifted his eyes and held her surprised stare. "I'm not ready to give up trying yet. I want to finish what we've started. I want to go back in your memories."

"We still have a long way to go," Hermione said, and she bit her lip in torment. If she were to go into her memories now, she'd see Kingsley's insides covering her skin. Certainly, the image would turn her off from finding sleep. And, she'd have to show Draco their moments together growing more intimate. She'd have to reveal pieces of him that may never return. It was panic-inducing.

"Then we should be using every moment we have left," Draco countered gently. "Please, Hermione," Draco pleaded.

The way her name rolled off his breath woke the fluttering in Hermione's chest. Her jaw tensed with resolve. "Fine. The last few days of our journey were difficult, and I don't know how much we will be able to cover. By tomorrow Harry and I will be using the Pensieve to pick through Voldemort's memories again."

"Then what are we waiting for? You're not planning on actually sleeping tonight, are you?" Draco challenged.

Hermione rolled her eyes upward. Achieving slumber was an amusing concept after their discussion earlier. "Let me grab a jumper and some shoes," Hermione sighed heavily, anxious about what the next memories would uncover in her relationship with Draco.

Draco appreciated her outfit change on their walk up the stairs; her bare legs had been unnecessarily distracting to him, and the heat it built in his veins was unnerving.

But, that heat was quickly forgotten as he was plunged back into Hermione's memory of the Labyrinth. The dark shadows felt bitterly stifling, regardless that it was only an image.

Hermione shivered with dreadful anticipation.

They were back in Hagrid's hut. In her memory, Hermione saw Draco's fingers were curled around her neck, as his image recovered slowly from his nightmare.

The real Draco beside her had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered softly, but Hermione only shook her head in quick forgiveness and continued watching the memory.

"Here, I say we follow the edge of the forest around until we get to the lake. A simple bubblehead charm should suffice while we reach the middle of the lake." Hermione's image took charge.

"Hold on a moment, Granger. How do we know this isn't a trap? I mean... Who the fuck leaves plans to the Dark Lord's very secret prison just lying out in the middle of a table in the middle of a hut, in the middle of a bloody fake forest? I don't trust it."

"Smart," Draco quipped beside her with a grin. "Please tell me we don't take the map."

"Shh," Hermione tutted. "Just watch."

The pair in the memory took quick note of Voldemort's Labyrinth, making snide remarks at the danger that lay ahead on their journey. From this vantage point, Hermione was finally able to take note of how close Draco subconsciously yearned to be, even when she thought he distrusted her; in the Labyrinth, his body was never more than inches from her own, and though cold, his eyes danced over her body time and time again.

"Those are Kingsley Shacklebolt's initials. Draco, this map is from the order."

"Or, it's a trap. We need to leave it. We have all we can get from it anyway."

"I know that. But it means there could be members of the order down here right now. Maybe that's why my cell opened."

"I'm glad you listened to me. The map was very clearly a trap," Draco asserted as they followed the memory back into the forest, where the sound of werewolves carried in the stagnant darkness. The pair watched on as the sounds of the wolves grew closer, and Draco's image hastily shoved Hermione's body into a hollowed-out tree to hide from the impending danger.

Watching the vision, Draco was acutely aware of how his body had looked pressed against hers. The space felt intimate, with his hands pressed on either side of her face, and his chest firmly against hers. He raised his eyebrows and saw that beside him, Hermione was flushed, eyes keenly observing their closeness with longing. It set his stomach into another short flurry of internal weightlessness.

"How the fuck have two kids gotten this far? The whole forest is bloody filled with werewolves." A cold voice sneered. "The Dark Lord is getting impatient. He punished Goyle last night, stupid git didn't check the hut. Heard he's going to be out of commission for a week."

After the werewolves moved on, they again ran through the forest, chasing after the vision.

"Can't you speed this up?" Draco huffed out impatiently. "As much as I love running...I don't."

But Hermione had gone silent, and her nostrils flared under the pressure of her heavy breathing. Horror dangled in her copper eyes, like a pendulum counting down impending doom.

When Hermione heard the gut-wrenching squelch of her body landing in Kingsley's internal organs, she screamed and turned, covering her ears. The memory stopped, frozen in time as Hermione regained her breathing. Concerned, Draco knelt beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder cautiously.

"We can skip this, if you'd like. There's no need for you to relive this," he gently encouraged. His heart was tearing at the sight of her small, shivering body, and tightly clenched fingers. Part of him had wanted to scream as well; the grotesque image was more than he could handle. The blood soaked into the ground, and a head lay cast off to the side. Hermione's image was coated in bits of flesh and bone. Certainly, it was easy to discern why she had avoided seeing this particular moment. He guessed it was what kept her up pacing throughout the night.

"I knew this was coming, but the sound…" she choked for air, and Draco rubbed small circles on her back in an attempt to calm her. "It's all too real," she shook.

After a moment, when Hermione's breathing had slowed, the memory once again sprang to life, giving him little time to process the scene. Draco watched as the memory of him soothing her unfolded. His gentle words then had encouraged Hermione forward just as his words now did the same.

"Just keep your eyes on me okay? We are so close to the water. We have to keep moving."

"Hermione, going back will not change this. Nothing will change this." Draco lifted her chin so she met his eyes. His tone was even, yet stern. Her lashes were soaked with tears. "They would not want you to die here. Just a bit further, okay?"

Using his arm as a crutch, Hermione steadied herself by gripping tightly at his skin. It caused an uncomfortable shift in gravity within his core, and his stomach felt as though it were floating in his chest.

The memory lurched forward, clearly skipping over more details of Kingsley's demise, but Draco knew better than to protest. This was hers to share, and he was lucky to witness it at all.

Once the world righted itself around them once more, they were standing next to the mirror image of the Black Lake. Swiftly, both were encased in bubblehead charms, and they walked into the water.

It was an odd sensation, plunging into the memory of water. Draco's instinct was to hold his breath as they followed the memory deeper under the lake, but to his pleasant surprise, when he finally sucked in a breath of air, he was perfectly able to breathe.

"This is weird," Hermione muttered beside him, also choking on perfectly good air.

"Agreed," Draco concurred as they descended deeper into the water. He barely noticed the struggle of the thin, exhausted images of themselves, for his focus was still on the real woman beside him. "Are you alright?"

"Never better," Hermione sarcastically quipped, and she ignored the look of pity Draco cast her from out of the corner of her eye.

When they were attacked by grindylows, Draco had the sudden urge to bat them away. Each time teeth or claws sunk into her skin, Hermione winced at the memory of the pain, and it was becoming hard for Draco to watch the blood suspended in the water. When at last they reached the underwater home of the merpeople, Draco's heart thunderously roared in his ears. He wanted to joke with Hermione about the lack of ferocity of merpeople, but when he saw the spears and their pointed teeth, he bit back his comment.

The first riddle was spoken, and Draco deadpanned.

With a slack jaw, and crossed arms, Draco asked in disbelief, "Is this a joke?"

Hermione barked out a short laugh. "I wish it were. I truly did not think we would make it past this point."

Riddles were unnecessarily cumbersome, and often were an illogical waste of time. Draco hated to think that starved and battered as they were, they could have easily been killed for a mistake as simple as a wrong answer.

Draco was awestruck at Hermione's brilliantly quick mind, and her ability to process the first two riddles. When at last the final riddle was said, Draco's throat grew tight.

"If you break me I do not stop working, If you touch me I may be snared, If you lose me, nothing will matter. What am I?"

Hermione looked at Draco, panic written across her face. Draco could easily tell she did not know the answer, and though he knew they survived this encounter, his palms became sweaty.

The merpeople began closing in around them, their spears at the ready. Dozens of yellow eyes focused on the two humans.

"A Heart!"

Draco wanted to cheer in relief. He watched them escape the level, and then the world shifted and swirled around him. Draco could not rid himself of the off floating sensation even as his feet touched back on the wooden floorboards of the cottage.

With a tremble in her tone, Hermione cut the silence of the room. "I think this is a good place to stop for the evening."

Draco turned in time to see her crumpling face. "Are you alright?" Draco asked cautiously, and he took a step toward her.

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye. "The entire time I was in the Labyrinth, I worried about my friends on the outside. Seeing that was like seeing months of nightmares come to life. And now Arthur and Remus and Luna..." her voice broke.

"Were you close with Kingsley?"

Hermione nodded. "I looked up to him, as a mentor. For a time, I wanted to work for the Ministry, and follow in his footsteps, at least until I realized my passion for healing. When the Order came back, he was so kind to us. He always felt it important to keep us updated on information, even though not everyone trusted us to know it."

"That's how I felt when Severus died," Draco said, and Hermione felt his understanding radiate through his words. "It was one of the hardest losses I had experienced, until…"

Until his mother. But the words were too heavy to rise up his throat.

Hermione wiped another stray tear. "We're a fantastic mess, aren't we?" she mused, thinking it wise to avoid the topic of Narcissa if he did not wish to speak of it.

Draco gave a soft smile. "Speak for yourself," he teased, to which he was rewarded with Hermione's soft giggle.

"Do you have any other questions...about what happened?"

Draco shook his head. "I became more expressive. Each memory becomes a bit easier to read," he said in a tone that neared content. "It's strange, though," Draco continued, "Our touches were becoming casual, and I didn't seem to mind your presence," he said, thinking back to his embrace of her while she cried over Kingsley's remains. It did not puzzle him as he thought it would. If he had seen this memory last week, he would not have believed it to be real.

"Months without physical contact was one of the hardest parts of the Labyrinth. It's like it siphons all the love and companionship right from your soul. It's endlessly lonely," Hermione explained. "I know it may seem odd, but, at least for me, your touch was a reminder that good still existed, and that people could still be kind."

She lifted her hand to brush his hair out of his face. In response, Draco subconsciously leaned into her fingers. It was true, he missed the feel of physical contact, and instinctively, he seemed to be seeking hers out. He lifted his fingers to her chin, and dragged a finger down her cheek.

He flushed a deep pink. "It's peculiar. Physically, my body," he swallowed a short breath, "it remembers your touch. But mentally, it's sometimes still as though I'm a boy at Hogwarts and we have no history to stand on other than our heated words."

Hermione thought about that prospect for a moment and pulled her hand back from his hair. It was unfair of her to seek out his comfort when he had no idea of how their relationship would progress.

"Do you think there is a way I'll ever get my memories back?" Draco asked, looking more vulnerable than he had in weeks.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. "I dunno," she murmured with an honestly that hurt in Draco's ears. "I'm worried we won't even make it through my memories before we lose access to the Pensieve. We're no longer safe here." Hermione wrapped her thin arms around her chest.

Draco pursed his lips. " Where will we go?"

Hermione closed her eyes to contain her fear. "I dunno that either." It caused an unpleasant clench in her stomach, that made her feel ill. She needed to clear her head before she could answer that important, urgent question. "It's time for bed, I think."

"Granger-" The softness of his eyes captured hers.

"What?"

"Be careful tomorrow, if you go to the library," he said softly, unleashing all the emotion he normally kept hidden away. "You're being hunted. They would do anything to put you back in the Labyrinth. It's… I don't want to see you back there."

"I'll be safe, I promise," Hermione replied easily, grateful he was starting to care again, even if only in small moments. "Stay out of trouble yourself," Hermione teased back.

"Oh yes, the possibilities for danger here are endless," Draco quipped sarcastically with a playful roll of his silver eyes. "Find me when you return."

"I promise," she agreed. Hermione gave a slight smile and Draco stood to walk her back to her room.

Though she knew she should be focused only on the mission before them, her heart felt a momentary peace thanks to the softening Slytherin. With a plan in motion and her session with Draco ending in success, Hermione hoped she could find a few moments of rest to prepare for tomorrow's daunting task.

Author's Note: THERE YOU HAVE IT! After a very long wait, I hope this was mostly worth it! I can't promise quick updates for The Labyrinth, but I can promise it WILL get done.

For those of you who were reading Behind Enemy Gates - I have removed the story from my account. I promised myself I would not waste anyone's time with a not properly planned story.

BUT I have learned from my mistakes, and I have a NEW story called The Alliance that I am so excited to share. I update once a month (with another chapter being released next weekend!). This story is planned, and I am loving the writing process for it. See my profile for more info, and to catch up before the new update.