A/N: Well... damn. There was a delay. I'm sorry. I went and got myself waist-deep in far too many WIP's. My bad! I do love this story and I love dramione and I would never not finish so here is an update. I hope it's worth the wait.

Also - my favorite WIP just recently was completed. ancilla by LeanaM. If you like au, you should DEF check it out. I'm a sucker for historical Roman X D

Beta Love to RoOjoy and Maloreiy Xx

Shout out to these awesome reviewers: riaroo400, JEPierre, pgoodrichboggs, crookshanks the kitty, Eternity51l, mrslara2112, LightofEvolution, xchloee, Estrunk, river of the sand, 4fanci, LoveJulianaRose, I was BOTWP, Eternity511, martee98, LeanaM, Mistress DragonFlame, LR Earl, Grahamgirl93, happiness8000, mega700201, unamedhpauthor, TheQuietAwakening, DramioneDestiny,Gaeleria, CoriACarmins, marzipan4, trinnyboppers, tigr3ss, RunningQuill, Queen of Duct Tape, Bridget Vo, bentnotbroken1, Sandra-Sempra, Grigiogirl, Light Heartfilia, Octoberose, Nissy Padfoot, Lexy0409, Anonkat, AnnaOxford, mrshaloona, crankypants16, SettingSummerSun, LunaMoon27, rcoach70, ceowens516, v0lchitsa, and the guests!

~oOo*oOo~

The sound of his parents' voices prattling on at the breakfast table ricocheted through Draco's head. It really was particularly vexing seeing as the night prior he had indulged in a single glass of Baijiu - a gift from the Chinese Minister - which had affected his head more than he would have anticipated. It normally took quite a lot of alcohol to make him feel so badly in the morning, but he'd underestimated the foreign substance.

What was even worse, Theo and Alice had joined them for their morning meal, and though the witch wasn't usually very talkative, her husband certainly was. Even the smell of Scottish sausage, eggs, and potatoes wafting through the air was not enough to lift his spirits. His mother had accused him of being increasingly moody as of late, and begrudgingly, he had to admit there was probably some truth to that.

"Who do you think will take Lord Ibori's place in the African province?" Theo asked no one in particular.

I don't know. Draco jumped when he heard the sound of Hermione's voice in his already discombobulated head. But let's hope he's got a bit more luck than Ibori did.

Irritation briefly flooded his features. He glanced up to see Hermione not deigning even to look at him as she sipped her tea as if nothing were amiss. All he could see was a rather distracting dimple gracing her right cheek, one that often appeared when she was trying to suppress a smile. He tried not to think about the flutter in his stomach, or the way his throat seemed to clog up with words he'd too long left unsaid. He brushed everything aside in an effort to focus. He hadn't even heard who his father had proposed would be a suitable replacement.

"...either him or Bello," Lucius was saying. "Either one would work, so long as they defer to those of us with seniority should any questions arise."

It would appear they'd be remiss not to, Hermione snarked.

Draco internally rejoiced that she could not hear his thoughts unless he sent them directly to her. That was one thing that worked in his favor in an otherwise endless stream of obstacles. That she had discovered their bond was, admittedly, rather troubling. As convenient as such a direct conduit between himself and Hermione could be thanks to the archaic marriage bonds, it was very early to already be dealing with it on top of everything else. And unsurprisingly, his little lioness was using the link to her advantage.

"How are you feeling, Jean?" Narcissa smiled warmly at her daughter-in-law, in a manner she only would to someone she truly cared about.

As good as can be expected for someone who's lost a war, been imprisoned, been freed only to be impregnated, and witnessed death and torture at every turn. Aloud she said, "Quite well, Narcissa. Wonderful, actually."

She beamed up at his mother, and Draco tried to suppress an eye roll. He had a sneaking suspicion she was being overly dramatic for his benefit in the hopes she could get a rise out of him. It made Draco all the more determined to conceal his thoughts from her, as if it were some sort of challenge. It was much easier to remain distant, as he knew he must be, without encouraging her by sharing in her laughs. That would only leave the wrong impression and be counterproductive. She was broken and only just in the process of healing, he didn't need to confuse her further.

Something akin to glee passed through his mother's eyes as she looked around the table enthusiastically. "Last night we determined Jean and Alice are only a week apart in their pregnancies." She clapped her hands together to her chest. "Isn't that exciting?"

Draco glanced up sharply, scanning Hermione's features as he ran numbers through his head. That means you're just shy of three months, he told her privately.

She looked up at him, stormy chocolate orbs clashing with his. So now you answer me. For a moment, she let her anger shine through, and he had to resist flinching away from the intensity of her gaze. But a second later, it was gone, and she appeared to be carefree and serene once more. Glad to know the link isn't broken.

Draco looked away sulkily, half angry he'd broken the silence between them, but even more upset with the fact that she'd distracted him from the true breakthrough: that she'd become pregnant before the night he'd taken her passionately—before she told him she didn't want to risk it. That didn't changed a whole lot, but it changed something. For some reason, he felt like he could breathe easier. The guilt he carried from knowing there was a possibility he had lost control and explicitly done what she'd asked him not to was difficult to bear. It was absurd, considering all the burdens he was forced to carry, that this one in particular should be the one to weigh on him the heaviest, but there it was.

"It really does put an unnecessary strain on us, what with Ibori having been removed," Theo complained.

Removed, Hermione scoffed. Honestly, does the man have any redeeming qualities? He's your friend, I challenge you to name one.

Draco clenched his jaw and avoided her gaze. He refused to be baited by her. He wasn't sure what game she was playing at, but Hermione was a clever witch and he had no doubts that she was up to something. He continued to meet her internal questions with silence.

"As if we didn't have to go to that insufferable country enough as it is." Theo's amber-hued gaze lifted to stare steadily at the members seated at the table. "Now we will have to frequent that abominable place even more frequently, and you've no idea how sweltering it can be."

"Hottest place in the world," Lucius agreed.

He could actually hear Hermione snort in his mind. Honestly, are they even wizards? I mean, they have heard of Cooling Charms, haven't they?

Theo chucked. "Every time I arrive, I'm tempted to go starkers."

Alice gasped.

Feeling like he needed to add something, Draco grasped for something to say, "I'm sure Ibori will be replaced soon."

"Hopefully." Theo shifted towards Alice, moving to interlock his fingers through hers, as if deriving strength from her touch. "My time is much better spent here."

Okay, Hermione conceded as she chanced a glance at the couple. Maybe one redeeming quality. Draco felt his lips start to pull, but quickly schooled his features.

Usually Draco had no trouble sitting through meals such as this one with his parents. He could slide into his role as Lord Malfoy easily enough, and wear the guise as if he were slipping on a mask. But recently, a menacing sense of trepidation had settled in his chest, forcing him on edge. At any moment, he suspected that all of the months - years - of planning would come crumbling down around him. It was a dread he could not shake, so deeply embedded in his heart that he was just waiting for the moment in which he'd have to act swiftly.

The stakes were so much higher now, much higher than they had been when he was by himself. Truthfully, when he'd started down this path of playing the double agent, it had almost been something close to fun - an adrenaline rush - he was by himself and he was young and though he would have never guessed it then, much more carefree than he was now. Of course, there were still his parents to deal with, still Snape whom he did not wish to fail, and there was also Granger - Hermione - locked away in Azkaban. But he'd approached it like a challenge, like something impossible it would take tremendous skill to navigate, and he had. And now things were dangling, barely hanging on by a thread. Once one thing snapped, so the rest would fly apart and shatter, and how prepared was he really?

Take me to Harry's cell, she intoned silently. I've got it now...well...Blaise and I think we've got it. There's only one way to test the theory.

Draco stiffened. How sure are you?

She huffed aloud, but amid the table talk, it went unnoticed. So that warrants a response, too? She paused for a moment, but when Draco didn't speak she continued. We've labored over it for three days. I'm as certain as I can be without putting it to the actual test.

Three days...and you're just telling me now?

She sighed. I've only just seen you now. Don't you think I've been dying to speak with you? I've tried calling for you through the bond, even, but obviously there was no response.

Furious with himself for having been gone on the farce of a mission for the Ministry, he spat cruelly in his mind, Yes, well, that's what happens when you're countries apart.

Never mind that. This arguing is pointless. We should go to Harry's cell the first chance we get. Knowing my luck, Vol-, You-Know-Who—

I don't think the trigger works in our minds, Hermione.

Voldemort, may get paranoid and move him. We'd better get to him while we still have the chance. She appealed to him with her eyes.

Draco thought about it, the previous feeling of uneasiness surfacing and roiling in the pit of his stomach. Again, he could not shake the thought that everything was just barely hanging together by a thread, and that the wave of danger he had thus far avoided would come crashing down on them at any moment. Let me review your notes, he finally replied. I won't be able to now, as we are leaving for the Ministry right after breakfast, but as soon as I return I will, and then we can discuss the plan to retrieve Harry.

Her eyes narrowed furiously. You should have come to me straight away last night, and looked over them then. I have a feeling we should go now.

I got back to the manor at two in the morning, and we aren't doing this the rash, brawdy, Gryffindor way. Spontaneity is not our friend.

I've achieved plenty of things spontaneously!

And look how well that's turned out for you.

Hurt briefly flashed over her features. Fine, she agreed. Look over them when you come home, if you must. There was a sharp undercurrent to her words, even inside his head as they were. And make me sit through another session of tea with those wretched girls, I guess, so I can hear about my poor friends that have been forced to marry those hags.

They'll live. He moved his attention to his tea, if not only to break away from her stare, but still continued their silent conversation. They'll all live, so long as we succeed.

He'd had enough of talking with her. It was difficult to remain distant, to stay aloof, but it was what she needed. Even if she thought she wanted something else, he would always give Hermione what was best for her.

A horrible feeling of insecurity gnawed at him when he deliberated upon their future. Ever the coward, he wrenched the thought from his mind as soon as it surfaced. There simply wasn't room for a thing like that now in the midst of everything else he was dealing with. He could feel her trying to pull him back into a conversation, but what was the point? He needed to get into the right headspace to prepare himself for the surprise mission she'd dropped on him.

This was finally happening.

It could all be at an end very soon.

The worry he felt in regard to the double life he led would surely subside now that the end was in sight. Blaise and Hermione were more than competent. If they thought they had discovered the answer, then surely they had. Draco would need to contact Snape and give the Headmaster a heads up on the potential breakthrough. He would also need to finalize the arrangements for his parents. He wished Theo had been able to show him anything—even the slightest sign—that he could defect to the Light, but Draco wasn't sure Theo could be trusted. If he proposed the opportunity to Theo, and Theo rejected Draco's offer, that would be one cord strung too tight, and one of Draco's carefully constructed towers of deceit would surely break before destroying another in its wake. He simply couldn't risk it.

Maybe he could strike a deal for Theo as he had for his parents. It would be worth speaking to Cyrus about. He couldn't, in good conscience, leave his friend to the wolves. Even if he did, he knew the newly revived Order would deal fairly with all who expressed remorse. Maybe some time in Azkaban, but surely not the Kiss.

I can feel the baby, you know.

Draco's eyes snapped up to meet hers, surprised when he found genuine honesty burning in her eyes. How can that be? You're so early on.

Not feel him or her... moving, exactly, no, it's more like I can feel my magical core tightening, and there's a sort of pull on it, tugging on my own. I can feel the baby's magic forming, I'm certain of it.

He swallowed convulsively, a frisson of worry searing through him at the abrupt reminder of everyone who was relying on him. He was struck with a fierce desire to protect his family.

Hermione graced him with a small smile. You don't have to be so troubled all the time. I'm here, too. I can help share the burden.

There's no burden.

Liar. She smirked. You're constantly worried, I can tell. You don't show it outwardly - no, you're too good - but I can feel it just the same.

You don't need to share any burdens, he told her definitively. You have your hands full enough as it is.

She pursed her lips and looked as if she were itching to fold her arms and glare at him. I wish you would stop thinking of me as so fragile. Surely you know I'm capable of withstanding whatever it is you're always keeping from me.

I believe that's called hubris, Hermione, and he knew she could sense his admonishment through their bond. You are fragile - your mental health is fragile - and you've been through a traumatic experience. You can't simply run headfirst back into things after what you have gone through.

She gave him a scathing look, but didn't try to deny the truth of his words. Instead, she tried to deflect him altogether. I do believe we have an audience.

Startled, he glanced away from her to see that yes, indeed, his parents and their guests were watching them both curiously. He mentally cursed himself for dropping his guard. This was just the sort of thing Hermione caused him to do—lose focus.

"You two are typical newlyweds," Theo said, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. "Making eyes at each other and tuning the rest of the world out." He shot them a derisive smirk.

Draco was grateful for his friend's interjection. His parents seemed more amused than irritated, and certainly not suspicious. Alice smiled at Hermione serenely.

Okay, Hermione added begrudgingly. Maybe he's a trifle humorous, too. Add that to the list.

A grin tugged at his lips and this time he was helpless to hide it from her. When he darted a glance at Hermione, he saw a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

~oOo*oOo~

Just where she wanted to be, another unfortunate session of tea with Greengrass and Parkinson. Perhaps she had felt something akin to sympathy tugging at her heart strings for the situation they had found themselves to be in, but they were still enemies of a sort. Hermione didn't doubt for one second that each girl would happily see her at the end of Voldemort's wand.

They were being especially nasty today.

Which only got worse when Narcissa got up and left to check on something in the kitchens.

"You'd better hope you deliver that baby without a hitch," Greengrass said to Alice, dropping all pretenses of kindness as she let the scorn drip from her voice.

Alice visibly blanched at the notion that there would be any complications at all when it came time to deliver her baby, as if she'd considered the possibility many times before and harped on it in her own mind. She wasn't as dimwitted as everyone assumed. Hermione sensed Alice employed the same defense mechanism Hermione herself was now using.

"Oh?" Alice tried and failed to keep the tremor from her voice.

"If you fail to deliver all that's expected of you, Theo has no use for you." Greengrass crossed her arms over her chest, unsuppressed glee shining in her eyes. "That's his only reason for keeping you, or else he would pursue more fitting prospects for himself."

"More fitting prospects?" Hermione could not help but interrupt. "You mean, like yourself?" Mock sympathy mixed with disbelief flooded her features as she stared down a flushed Greengrass. Why did Hermione feel the need to take dangerous attention off of someone else and place it squarely on herself? It was in her nature, she supposed. She could hardly help it, but goodness she should really start backtracking now.

"Got something to say, do you, Mudblood?" Greengrass shifted her gaze to Hermione, seemingly recovered from her momentary surprise.

Parkinson looked on warily, and Hermione felt like slapping the girl out of her stupor. Parkinson was doing a shit job of reining in her friend, and she was forcing Hermione's hand. How could Hermione stay silent when Greengrass was treating Alice so cruelly? Maybe it was her hormones positively roaring, but the idea of keeping quiet was almost too tragic to bear...it forced her into action.

"I believe I just told you what I had to say," Hermione reminded her, as if speaking to a toddler. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

"Perhaps you do."

"Well, Daphne," Hermione said in a voice sickly sweet. "Maybe you are just jealous of Alice, jealous because you had your sights set on her husband and you didn't get him. But perhaps it's best for everyone if you just moved on."

The harsh words lay heavily in the air.

Her eyes blazed with unabashed fury mingling with jealousy. "Mudblood," she spat. "I think you are forgetting one crucial thing."

Hermione raised her brows in polite interest, acutely aware she was only inciting the girl's fury more.

"I have a wand." Greengrass curled her fingers around auburn wood, making them all aware she had indeed drawn her wand. "And I know how to use it...quite well. Would you like a demonstration?"

Alice's eyes grew wide as saucers, her face stretched in fear.

"Daphne, please," Parkinson finally - blessedly - spoke. "You know such a thing would be frowned upon. Put your wand away before you get into trouble."

Greengrass' bravado faltered for just a second, before she schooled her features and recovered effortlessly. "You're right, of course, Pansy." She forced a light smile on her face and turned to look at Hermione.

Hermione was torn between escalating the fight and backing away slowly. Danger! Something shouted in her mind. Good Merlin, what was she intending to do...oust herself? She needed to contain the situation. A witch's jealousy was nothing to trifle with. Clearly Greengrass cared deeply for Nott, though how that could be Hermione was sure she would never know. Daphne didn't appear to have a loving bone in her body.

Greengrass was still staring at Hermione, her jaw clenched as she seemed divided between putting her wand back into her dress robes or wielding it as she had threatened to do.

Sweet Morgana, Hermione inwardly appealed. Just put the blasted thing away...please!

She had enough on her mind, what with her exchange with Draco and the - perhaps - progress they had made, and the Runes that didn't stop running through her mind a mile a minute. How was she to focus on the threat that was Greengrass, among everything else she had to contend with? Draco had promised to look over the work she and Blaise had done tonight, and she was counting down the minutes until he returned from the Ministry.

"I won't curse her," Greengrass finally said, to Parkinson's apparent relief.

Hermione felt herself breathing easier right along with Parkinson, even if part of her wondered why the witch would be so reluctant to curse her. Was there some sort of added protection she had? Draco really didn't tell her much about anything, by her estimations.

"But Lady Nott, on the other hand, is fair game."

Before Hermione could so much as blink, Greengrass had her wand trained on Alice and swiftly hurled a sickly yellow curse at her, which collided with a disturbing thud as it hit her chest.

Parkinson gasped - but did nothing - and Greengrass' eyes gleamed with the delectable taste of vengeance, a taste Hermione would be familiar with all too soon.

Hermione saw red.

While Alice clapped a hand to her mouth and turned green with nausea, Hermione felt as if she were moving in slow motion. Alice was gagging, and then she was choking, before she'd moved to vomiting, all over the table and all over herself. Greengrass was watching the horror in front of her contentedly, and regardless of the more rational side of Hermione that tried to rein her ire in, tried desperately to calm herself, she could not be dissuaded and was jolted into action.

A white-hot light burst from her hands and was sent careening toward an unsuspecting Greengrass, sending her flying to the opposite wall, her face set in comical surprise.

Hermione could not help the wicked laugh that escaped her throat. She got up from her chair and walked around the table with all the grace of an advancing predator to where Greengrass lay sprawled against the wall. She let the wave of her oppressive magic, wielded without the added use of a wand, wash over the room and crash down on the witch.

"You horrid girl," Hermione told her, face expressionless. "Maybe you are scared, too, but that doesn't give you reason to be so horrible." She pushed on her magic, never before in complete control of such a wild force. "We're all scared, but that doesn't give you permission to be a coward."

Hermione wasn't even sure what had provoked her to say such things, but by the look on Greengrass' face, she could tell the girl was frightened—she could tell her words hit home. Furious, she yanked the witch's wand away and promptly snapped it in two, bestowing the cowering Greengrass with a victorious smile as she did so.

With single-minded focus, she channeled the surprisingly powerful magic that still poured out of her, and directed it to a still vomiting Alice, coaxing it to turn a healing shade of blue, and calmly letting it run through the girl.

This would prove to be a misstep.

As soon as she turned her back on the girls, Parkinson wasted no time in getting to her feet and yanking up her sleeve. By the time Hermione turned back around, Parkinson had her wand poised to the Dark Mark that stood out glaringly against the pale skin of her forearm.

Hermione's righteous fury gave way to paralyzing fear. "Pansy," she appealed, eyes open and close to begging. "Don't do that. You don't want to do that."

"I'm sorry, Granger," Parkinson told her sadly. "I have to. We are trained...if there are any signs...I have to! It's my duty."

The magnitude of the error she had made in reacting in the manner she had hit her like a Bludger to the chest, and she suddenly regretted acting so instinctively. Draco, she screamed in her mind. Draco! I need you now!

Hermione? Came the incredulous response, sounding farway, like a bad connection on a muggle phone line.

I'm in trouble, she desperately tried to tell him. Merlin was she ever.

~oOo*oOo~

It all happened so quickly.

One minute, he was walking the halls of the Ministry with his peers, the next he was making his apologies and racing away to the nearest Floo.

He had never heard her sound like that - not even as Jean - so desperate and afraid. Hermione had told him she was in trouble, and he knew instantly that she wasn't overreacting.

Draco arrived in the parlor of the manor, quickly stunning Pansy and then Daphne in rapid succession, before running over to Hermione who cradled a sickly looking Alice in her arms.

"Mimsy!" he shouted for the elf. She appeared dutifully before him, just as his mother rounded the corner, her features frozen in shock at the scene she arrived to. "You know what to do," he instructed the elf urgently. "Take them by Portkey." He handed the small button he always carried at least two copies of to the frazzled elf. "Alice, too. And Mimsy? I can't afford any mistakes."

"Yes, Master Draco." Mimsy moved quickly to grab a distressed Narcissa who was looking at her son questioningly and pulled her over to where Alice sat at the table, before Apparating them both away with a pop.

Hermione watched almost listlessly, surveying the scene as if it weren't entirely bizarre. Finally, she looked up at him. "I messed up, Draco. Pansy summoned him."

"It's okay," he assured her, kneeling down to take her hands. "He has his hands full right now. He won't be able to come right away, and when he does we'll be long gone."

His words sent a visible spark of hope searing through her. Brown eyes blazing despite the presence of tears, she asked determinedly, "What about Harry?"

"We don't have that much time," he told her seriously. "They'll be on our trails and I haven't got a chance to go over…"

"The work is correct." She scrutinized his reaction to her apparent confidence. "I promise it's good. We're ready."

"It would have to be now or never." His mind shifted to the next automatically occurring worry. They simply couldn't show up to the base in Algiers without Harry in tow. It would mean years of spying gone down the drain. "Are you sure you can do it?"

"Positive."

His movements continued to blur in front of him as he moved automatically but with precision. He barely registered the flash of his Patronus as he sent his warning to both Blaise and Severus. He and Hermione ran up the stairs and to his room to locate the Cloak and don it before making their way to the Floo.

The Ministry blurred around them as they made their way to the elevator shafts, Draco clearly visible but Hermione hidden, this time sans the Imperius to keep her quiet. She stayed silent all on her own.

The walk down the hallway that housed Potter's prison was quite possibly the longest five minutes of his life. He recalled each step, expecting at any moment that Voldemort may have eviscerated his enemies and come to the manor in order to check in and see why he was signaled. Draco silently begged every deity that they could please have precious time to see this through. He prayed the Bulgarian rebels were giving Voldemort one hell of a time. He and Hermione surely wouldn't be alone for long, one way or another.

Once again, it was only a lone guard that stood between them and Potter. Well, a lone guard and the most complicated ward ever magically fortified.

Scaro, Draco silently intoned, rendering the unsuspecting guard blind, deaf, and paralyzed in a matter of a second.

Hermione ripped the Cloak off of herself, and she and Draco both advanced on the doorway.

"We may have a five minute head start," Draco told her, darting a glance around the vacant hall. "Can it be unraveled so quickly?"

"I'm not sure." Hermione pursed her lips as her eyes traced the parameter of the door. "But it has to work. I'll make it work."

"If you can get the wards down, we'll be able to Apparate straight from here to safety. If not, we will have to abandon Potter and leave under the Cloak." When he saw the look she gave him, he hastily added, "Surviving another day is better than everyone dying."

"Where did you send your mother and Alice?"

He watched as she knelt to the ground, brushing her fingers against the stone archway.

"I made a deal with the Resistance for my parents. They will be under watch, but safe until I can try to persuade them myself. Severus will decide if Theo can be included or not, I wasn't able to make a deal for him. They, along with Blaise, will hopefully be at the Rebel's location by the time we are finished."

"I hope you have more of those button-Portkeys."

"Of course," he scoffed. "I make them small enough to conceal several, should the situation call for it, but we definitely have an out."

Hermione nodded, reciting an incantation and watching the ward glow in front of her. "The trick lies in unraveling it in the order that it was placed." She reached for her wand and etched the outline of a Rune into the air. "Tinne," she explained. "It's in Ogham. Hard as rich, metal stones. It's the hardest to cut through, so that's what he undoubtedly used."

The ward seemed to absorb the fiery outline of the Rune, before it sizzled in front of them and glimmered to a shade of light blue glow. Draco had to catch his breath at the resultant intricate and complex ward that appeared before them, almost too painful to look at. So many calculations and variables coded in Runes...the complexity of it all was staggering, and they were seeing it in its entirety for the first time.

"That's it," she needlessly informed him, eyes awestruck as she took in the sight of the complicated pattern. "It's not as bad as it looks."

If the lie was supposed to comfort him, it hardly had the desired effect.

"You-Know-Who used a technique known as Tetrapragmata, meaning he combined four branches of magic." She flicked her wand and summoned a piece of white chalk before kneeling down to draw a pentagram on the hard floor. "The creation of this type of ward is rather labor-intensive. Part of the wizard's magical energy must be transferred into the ward before being bound by a series of binding spells to amplify the connection. The Dark variation of the Binding Charms combined with the Rune and the calculation Blaise and I solved, is the key." She cast a dark glare at the doorway. "But there is still the complication of his magic being bound in this ward. One way or another, our magic will have to overpower his lingering magic, not an impossibility once we break the binds."

Draco tried not to gape at Hermione as she continued to etch away on the floor. He'd heard her referred to as the Brightest Witch of Her Age before, and he supposed she was definitely living up to that title today. The one hurdle he could not quite wrap his head around was how the two of them could possibly overpower magic Voldemort left behind, unbound or not.

Hermione shot a series of fiery calculations into the air, each one vanishing into the foreboding ward as soon as she finished writing it. "That's a good sign," she called over her shoulder. "That means the ward is accepting it. The unraveling has already begun."

"What's next?"

She hesitated for the briefest of moments and Draco became instantly suspicious.

"Well?" he prodded.

"Next...the ward requires blood."

"Blood?" He was right to be wary.

"Yes." She deftly averted his gaze. "Blood is required to establish a connection...a link if you will...to our magic and You-Know-Who's. We won't be able to touch it unless we can access it."

"You won't be giving any of your blood," he informed her rather bluntly.

"Yes." Hermione instinctively placed a hand over her abdomen. "So then it must be you, I suppose."

Blast it all. It would figure Draco would be required to do something like this. Blood magic was dangerous. It was also as Dark as magic went. But clearly it would fall to him or no one at all. Time to save Saint Potter, he inwardly rallied. "Right, then." He yanked up the sleeve of his black coat. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

"You have to stand in the middle of the pentagram," she instructed.

His eyes wandered over to hers. Chocolate brown orbs gazed back at him softly. He moved quickly, reminding himself that they were on a desperate time crunch.

"Directly in the middle."

He moved to comply and raised his arm so that the exposed skin of his forearm shone in the light of the ward. "Now what?"

"Just a small cut for the ritual." She advanced on him slowly, raising her wand. "A dagger would be preferential but a slicing hex will suffice. We just need enough to drip into the ward." She ripped off a piece of her dress and nimbly transfigured it into a flimsy cup. "Hold it here." She placed it under his wrist, then muttered the incantation.

Draco did not even blink as the curse pierced through his skin, drawing a steady pulse of blood that culminated at the bottom and dripped into the cup. Once the cup was substantially full, he handed it to her and she began pouring it into the glowing ward, furrowing her brow when it was not immediately sucked up.

"Oh dear," she muttered, before proceeding to pour out all of the contents.

Still, not so much as a glimmer of magic interrupted the steadily pulsating ward.

She bit her lip, and he could practically see the wheels of her brain turning.

"It didn't work," she pointlessly informed him.

"Perhaps I drew the pentagram wrong," she told him evasively. "Maybe I needed to etch the Runes onto the points as well."

"Hermione," he told her earnestly. "We don't have time for this. We should probably just get out of here. Potter will be moved, and then we will get the chance to try again."

She was ignoring him, hastily writing in the Runes on each point before handing him the cup again. "One more time, I promise," she assured him. "I'm sorry I didn't think about it before."

He sighed loudly but allowed her to deepen the wound, drawing more blood from his outstretched arm.

"How can you be sure this will work?"

"Because I came up with it," she answered saucily.

Despite the adrenaline pounding at his temples, he could not help but feel briefly amused. "Your modesty astounds me."

She only smirked at him as she took the cup and once more poured the contents into the doorway. This time the blood was sucked up completely, and the pentagram began glowing with an intensely bright light. Relief flooded through him at the sight of the shining white lines, but his mood plummeted when he saw her jump inside the glowing pentagram right along with him. He had been distracted before, but now he saw a small gash on her own forearm.

"What have you done?" Raw fury surged through him at her blatant disregard for her own care, that she would put herself in danger despite his orders.

"You need help," she answered simply. "Blaise was supposed to be here when we tried, but since he's not... I'll have to take his place."

"That wasn't the deal."

"Draco, what hope is there if we don't bring back Harry? No one will live in peace so long as he's captured. You must know the risk is worth it."

"Not to me it isn't," he told her passionately.

Hermione set her lips in a grim line, but then all Draco could feel was pressure, such pressure that it increased to the point of pain and reached a breaking point, ripping through him violently. He and Hermione both were helpless but to scream as the ward and the pentagram glowed even brighter, the magic opening with a vengeance and for the first time...vulnerable to their attack.

If Draco had to describe the force that was assaulting him, he would say it felt like death. The onslaught of the overwhelming pressure caused his eyes to squeeze shut in pain. He felt a hand reach out to grab his, and he held onto it tightly. Something twisted and sprang to the surface aggressively, having the effect of suffocating him.

No, Draco, Hermione reached out in her mind. It's Voldemort's magic and it's fighting us. We need to fight back.

But the force was so strong - so unavoidable - it was almost too much.

See? That's why you needed help. A squeeze of his hand, a touch that grounded him. We'll do it together Draco.

How? He couldn't help but ask.

Call for your magic. Let it come to you. Let it rage… wild and free… and let it cloak you.

Fighting every urge to curl into a ball and hide, Draco summoned his magic, and it came to him tentatively, unsure of what to make of the situation.

Now what?

Your magic should be angry. Voldemort's magic is lingering, keeping you away from what you want the most… from peace… from what needs to happen. Your magic is enraged! Let it free...let it attack.

Draco let his magic, which inexplicably seemed to bend to Hermione's words, inflating around him until it was flooding the hall and pushing against the unguarded lingering magic of the Dark Lord's. He was hyper-aware of whatever the magic touched and could even feel it stretching to fill the heated lines of the pentagram. Voldemort's magic threatened to tear his apart, but there was another magical presence apart from his own, and perhaps that's why he felt the urge to shove.

He pushed at the oppressive Dark Magic that stood in his way - angering it and riling it to a boiling fury - before expending all his energy to ruthlessly attack it. It was so odd; he was wandless, yet he was his magic, and it moved through him like an unstoppable force. The complex web of spells that stood in their way teetered and faltered, at risk for being decimated completely, if only they could be pushed even further than Draco could push them himself.

But it could be pushed further.

For the magical presence beside him was formidable in its own right, and attacked the foreign ward just as cruelly - as ruthlessly - until Draco was able to see bits and pieces of it shattering. Spurred on by the progress they were making, he pulled even deeper from his magic, letting it flood the doorway as it attacked the weakened wards. The pulse of their magical energies combined with Voldemort's lingering magic, throbbed and stretched to explosive levels.

But they were winning.

The ward was fracturing.

Draco could see through to the other side, and the amount of holes in the once impenetrable ward had rendered it weak and breaking. It only took one final combined push to break it completely.

The only issue with that was that he had called upon such a large amount of energy, that the sudden yielding caused him to fly backwards so that he found himself prone on his back. He no longer had the energy to move, but he instinctively knew that the wards had been breached, and they would be free to cross and take their cargo with them… if only they had the energy to do so.

Distantly, Draco heard shouts in the supposed to be empty corridor. How irritating? How rude of somebody to show up unexpected. Even more annoying was the incessant tugging on his hand. Whoever was disturbing him, he wished he could simply Vanish them. That was the way you dealt with pests.

Draco, the voice ricocheted through his brain. We need to get Harry and leave. They know we're here. Come on!

The world shifted on its axis and then he was rather abruptly reminded of just how dangerous a situation they were in, of just what was happening.

A wand was suddenly leveled at his face. "Ennervate!"

Jolted into action, Draco suddenly found himself running aimlessly, until he found a hand gripping his wrist and pulling him—guiding him.

"Come on, Draco," Hermione said urgently, as they moved much too quickly for his liking. "We need to get to him, and get out of here!"

But it turned out they did not have to travel far. Potter ran head first into them, no longer trapped by the wards.

"What's happened?" He looked around nervously. "You couldn't have taken the wards down? It's another trick, right?" He looked between the two of them as if he expected they would sprout fangs any given second and sink their teeth into him. "It's best if I stay here and wait it out… pass the test… it will hurt so much less."

"We're real, Harry."

The black-haired wizard eyed her dubiously.

"Even if it was a trick, you'll just have to play it out," she reasoned. "Right?" She turned quickly on her spot. "Draco?" Her wide eyes sought his wildly. "Get out the button, quick! Merlin, but the two of you are giving me heart palpitations."

Considering heart palpitations did not sound very appealing, Draco searched for the alleged button he was thought to have. His mind was still befuddled, caught in a blurry, magical haze, but he moved quicker. "Here," he offered, raising the button triumphantly.

"Oh, thank Merlin." Hermione grabbed his hand to place it securely around her waist before reaching for Harry. "They've arrived," she informed them frantically. "Expulso!" she yelled at the entrance, before turning to take a hold of the Portkey, thusly activating it.

Draco was unable to see the effect of her curse before they were swept up in a morphing, twisting, ball of energy that was trying valiantly to whisk them away from the Ministry. The unstable wards of the Ministry stretched and pulled around them, but were too fragile to hold, and finally relented, letting them through. Then they were careening through time and space, and it was all his frazzled mind could do but to hold on tightly for what was sure to be a wild ride.

~oOo*oOo~