A/N: Thank you for allowing me an extra week while I moved! I hope every one is safe and healthy.

Much love and many orgasms to raven_maiden and saintdionysus for their work on this chapter. Speaking of those bitches, we've started a podcast for chapter recaps! "Austen, Bronte, and Hugo Walk Into a Bar..." Hear us talk about the writing/editing process and give little details that couldn't make it into final drafts. You can find us on Spotify and most other hosting platforms.

Content warning for this chapter: mild violence

Draco blinked at her, his jaw tightening.

"Test it on you."

"Yes." She peered inside the cauldron. "I think there's just enough left over for one more dose." Spinning around, she grabbed a spare vial off a nearby shelf before returning to the table. "Once we know that it works, we'll get the directions to Charlotte with her memories—"

"Granger, wait."

She paused with the ladle dipped into the potion. He was still staring down at her notes, flipping through the pages.

"This potion is invasive Dark Magic. It alters your biology. If anything went wrong—"

"It works, Draco." He remained silent, and she lifted a brow. "You don't trust my potion brewing abilities?"

"It's not that." He closed the notebook and looked up at her. "Your subjects should be monitored for adverse effects. Where did these mice even come from, Granger?"

"They're teacups," she said, and a blush bloomed across her neck.

Draco scowled. "Alright. Well, let's get some real mice and—" He cut off, his eyes widening at the wand on the laboratory table. "Is that—you've been using my mother's wand?"

"Er, yes." Hermione twisted her fingers together. "I tried to get along without one, but it was too difficult. She's been letting me borrow it."

His eyes snapped up to hers. "Did you tell her why?"

"No, but…" Hermione cleared her throat. "She guessed."

Draco paled, taking a step backward. "If she tells my father—"

"She won't. I'm certain of it."

He began pacing, running a hand through his hair. "I have to go talk to her. Make up some excuse—"

Hermione wove around the table and grabbed his arm. "You have to trust me, Draco. She's in support. She even told me it was 'time.'" He blinked, staring at her. "I asked her why, and she didn't want to talk about it. You'd put her in an even more difficult position if you confronted her."

After a long moment, he managed a nod. Hermione released his arm, her fingers still tingling from the warmth of his skin.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "The point remains that it's too premature. We should run more tests and make sure the antidote is safe on an authentic test subject. And have you done enough trials to know the necessary dosage?"

She felt her ears grow hot. "No, not yet. I—I had just cracked it when you came in. But of course we should try to find the minimum amount." She rubbed her eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the night settling over her as the adrenaline left her.

"The mice should be monitored as well," he said. "We should check their systems for changes every day for a week—"

"A week! Draco, we don't have that kind of time—"

"That's the bare minimum—"

"Three days is sufficient—"

"Five." His tone was final.

Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched Narcissa's wand to conjure a large cage for the mice. Her fingers were still trembling with the excitement of her discovery as she collected and floated them inside. She knew the potion would work flawlessly, even if Draco wasn't convinced yet. She began cleaning up her workstation, clanging vials together as he watched in silence.

"Are you angry because I'm right, or because you're wrong?"

She paused in the middle of tossing ingredients back in their jars. "You are not right."

And she swore she could hear him chuckle behind her.

Whipping around, she extended the wand out to him. "Why don't you tidy up, if you know the right way to do everything?"

His mouth twitched as he took it from her, and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted and you're making me angry."

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turned on her heel and headed to the door. She paused at the threshold. "And you better take care of those mice."

She caught a glimpse of him as she left, and saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After trudging up the stairs, she shook off her shoes, tore off her clothes, and slipped into bed, drifting off as the dawning sun glowed through the curtains. It wasn't until an hour later when Draco joined her, freshly showered and curling his body around her, that she groggily realized she'd chosen his bedroom on instinct.

They slept late, and when they woke, the breakfast tray on Draco's desk contained both coffee and tea. At lunchtime, Hermione went downstairs to see Narcissa and return her wand. Draco only showed at the very end, his face pink as his mother embraced him and kissed his cheeks.

They learned from Narcissa that Lucius would be gone for at least another two weeks. He was still in Belgium, and was scheduled to begin interrogations in Poland later that week.

Draco was still nervous about being interrupted, so Hermione agreed to wait until after dinner to work on the potion. But apart from giving Hix instructions to deliver ten field mice to his lab, Draco hadn't said much when she turned the conversation to the potion or the tattoos. So she began asking questions.

Draco told her that the Death Eaters had failed to locate any True Order members on his mission. The few trails had gone cold, and the Dark Lord believed them all to be in France now. She asked him what he knew that hadn't been in the papers. Albrecht Berge had strengthened the U.K.'s Anti-Apparition line before he left for France. He was expected to institute new wards at Edinburgh at the end of the month. There were whispers that the Dark Lord was planning a counterattack, but no one knew where or when. Information was even more tightly controlled than it had been before, and the Dark Lord was still interrogating his own followers.

They took dinner in his bedroom, and at nine o'clock, they tiptoed down to the lab. Hix had left ten field mice in a cage, just like Draco had asked. She set Draco to work on brewing the tattoo potion while she brewed the antidote next to him. While they added ingredients, she explained the trials she'd done in his absence and every step she took to reach her conclusions. He didn't seem to be listening, though he followed the directions in her notes perfectly. Several times she caught him watching her as she gesticulated with the bloodroot, or when she twisted her expanding hair off her shoulders into a knot on top of her head. Each time he looked away quickly, wearing an expression she couldn't place.

When she announced that they had to wait for the potion to brew, Draco set down his ladle and swiftly pulled her close. He caught her muffled yelp of surprise with his lips, pressing her back against the laboratory table and kissing her deeply.

He pulled away after a few moments, searching her eyes. "How long do we have?"

"F-Four hours for the antidote, and six for—"

"Perfect."

He tugged her against him and kissed her neck, letting his hands curve over her hips. She turned her face into his shoulder, pulling him close. She'd missed this. Catching his lips again, she slid her hands up to his neck, letting him curl over her. His tongue swept through her mouth, and his teeth nipped across her jaw, his breath panting over her collarbones.

He turned her around to face the table as his hands went to the button on her jeans. Closing her eyes, she relished the feeling of his arousal pressing into her back as he positioned her. He reached up for the tie in her hair and tugged it loose.

"Thought about this"—he drew a ragged breath, inhaling the scent of her curls—"every time you were at a cauldron…"

Her breath hitched, and her lashes fluttered. She tried to think about when he might have watched her, but then he pushed her jeans down over her hips and slipped his fingers into her knickers, and every thought fled her brain.

"Just like this."

Her hands pressed against the tabletop, and she gasped as he slid through her folds and circled her clit. She tried to widen her legs, but her jeans were in the way. She threw her head back against his shoulder as his other hand slid under her shirt to palm her breast. He rocked his hips into hers, the tent in his trousers digging into her backside.

"Fuck."

Her eyes shot open. She was just about to ask him what was wrong when he said, "Your fucking arse, Granger," and then his lips latched onto her neck to recreate all the bruises that had vanished since he'd gone away.

She moaned as he worked her closer and closer, rubbing himself against her as his fingers tweaked her breast and rubbed her clit. She had to lean heavily on the tabletop when he slipped them inside of her.

But then he was pulling back, his hands disappearing from her body. She blinked in a haze until she felt him removing her trainers and socks, helping her step out of her jeans.

He turned her to face him, his black eyes searching hers. Her heart skipped a beat as she rolled up onto her toes and slid her fingers through his hair, kissing him until he moaned. She tore away to pull off her shirt and unclasp her bra. His gaze was focused on her breasts as she reached down for his trousers, but then he lifted her at her waist and hoisted her up onto the tall lab table.

The smooth stone was cold against her bare skin, and she shivered as he stepped between her legs and tugged her mouth down to his.

The table was too high. That was all she could think of as his hands rubbed her inner thighs, encouraging her to open wider as his lips caressed hers. There was no way he could enter her from this angle. She pulled back to tell him just that when he cupped her face, staring at her with blown pupils.

"Lay back," he whispered.

She frowned, trying to figure out how this would—

"Stop thinking, Granger."

Swallowing, she allowed him to push her down on the lab table. Once she was resting on her elbows, he tugged her hips to the edge and started pressing kisses to the inside of one knee. He met her eyes as his mouth trailed higher and higher.

"Oh, um…I'm not..." She felt her cheeks flame red. "Are you sure—?"

"I'm very sure." Another kiss, this one an inch above her knee. "Are you?"

She let her head fall back, cupping her hands over her face. "Right," she mumbled. "Um, that's fine, I guess. Er—yes."

A pause.

"Tell me, Granger, how does the Draught of Peace differ from a simple Calming Draught?"

She dropped her hands and tilted her head to gape at him as his lips moved closer to her core. "What?"

"The Draught of Peace," he murmured against her skin. "What are its properties?" He wrapped his arms under her thighs, curving his hands over her knees and staring up at her face.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Well, first of all, it's much stronger than a simple Calming—"

He dipped his head to kiss her hipbone, and the muscles in her stomach jumped.

"Go on?"

She blinked at him as he watched her, letting his tongue swipe across the skin he'd just kissed.

"I—I mean, of course it's stronger. But the most notable difference is that no Hellebore syrup is needed in the Calming Draught—oh!"

He pressed his lips directly on her core. Her legs instinctively tried to close, but he held her open. She grabbed the edges of the table, taking a shuddering breath.

"What else, Granger? Teach me."

The rasp in his voice sent a warmth through her belly, flushing her chest. "Significantly less Moonstone in the Calming Draught."

"Yes?"

"The Draught of Peace has very specific instructions, whereas the Calming Draught is less precise."

She squeaked as his tongue slid into her folds, gliding through her most private of places and dragging up, up, up to her clit. A moan escaped her, and her back arched off the table.

"Shouldn't—" Her chest heaved. "Shouldn't we do something for both of us? Wouldn't you rather have sex—"

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Granger."

Before she could respond, he flicked his tongue over her clit, swirling and licking as she keened. Her thighs fought against his hands, and he pressed them open to the stone tabletop. She reached above her head and held onto the edge, screwing her eyes shut. She was so exposed like this—

"Tell me. What else?" he whispered, his breath hot on her cunt.

"Oh god."

"Do you add the Moonstone before or after the Porcupine—"

"Before!" She yelped as his tongue flattened against her sex, moving towards her entrance. "Before, before, before."

He moaned as he dipped inside, and she whimpered when he did it again, and again. Her hips began rocking against his mouth, and her fingers raked down her face, reaching down to cup her breasts.

"Just like that, Granger." He licked up to her clit. "Just like that."

Her lips parted at the thick grey stone ceiling as he kissed and sucked at her. She was bare on a potions table with two cauldrons simmering next to her, and she was mewling and begging him—

And then his finger pressed against her entrance, and her toes curled as he slid inside. His lips never left her clit, sending her scrabbling at her chest until he pulled away to ask, "How many stirs, Granger? Once you've added the Moonstone?"

"Seventeen," she panted.

"Clockwise or—"

"Counterclockwise!"

His tongue found her core again, and she jerked up on her elbows when he circled her clit, counterclockwise. His finger began pumping into her, slow and steady. Her eyes rolled back, and when he reached the eighth circle, she strained upright to bury her fingers in his hair. He groaned into her cunt before she collapsed.

When he reached twelve, her stomach tightened. At fifteen, her back arched off the table, and she started to ramble nonsense. She was so close to the edge when he hit seventeen, and then his lips locked around her clit and sucked as he added a second finger inside of her.

She shattered with a scream, clamping down around his fingers and holding his face to her core as her hips rutted against his mouth. She felt like she'd never stop coming, her orgasm tearing its way out of her as Draco refused to relent on her clit. His fingers curled inside of her, and she jerked up, holding on for dear life as he rubbed at her.

It was too much. Everything was too much. She couldn't think or breathe or move.

Her mind saw white and her voice strangled out a cry. She felt like she'd been flung off a high building, falling and falling with no ground in sight.

She breathed deep lungfuls of air, sucking in oxygen and letting her eyes adjust to the world again. Her fingers were still gripping Draco's hair, and she tugged until his lips released her.

His eyes were dark and on fire, and she whined as he slowly withdrew his fingers.

"I think you just killed me," she croaked.

He laughed and kissed her thigh.

She shifted once her heart stopped hammering, and he helped her off the table. Her loose limbs stumbled until he pulled her flush against him, wrapping his hands around her waist. Her nipples tightened against his shirt, and her belly swooped at the feel of him through his trousers, stiff and warm on her stomach.

He was still for a moment, his harsh breaths filling the quiet of the room. Then he pressed his nose into her hair and mumbled, "Had to do that just once."

She smiled into his chest.

After a beat, she reached for his buckle, sliding her other hand down to cup the outline of him. He blew out a sharp exhale, dropping his head on her shoulder and moving his hands to her hips.

"Granger…" Something in his voice sent her insides coiling again.

She quickly unbuttoned him and pulled down his trousers. The sight of him sent a rush of heat through her core. She licked her palm, and he groaned when she took him in her hand. Her legs still felt like jelly, but his body was wound tightly against hers, holding her upright as she began stroking him. He growled into her neck when she remembered to twist at the end, letting his hands wander down to fill with her arse. A delicious thought bubbled through her, and she paused.

"Was it…" She wet her lips. "Did you like doing that?"

He laughed darkly. "I liked it, alright. Only been dreaming about it."

Her breath caught, and she looked down at him again. Maybe one day she could—

"Did you?"

"I… yes, I liked it."

His cock twitched, and he pulled her hand away before quickly walking her to the lab table. Her fingers barely had a moment to dig into his shirt before her naked back hit the stone. She gasped as he pressed their bodies close, crowding her.

"I'd do every day if I could. Twice a day." She was just about to tease him about why he couldn't when his lips brushed across her shoulder. "Missed your hands. Missed being inside of you."

She moaned, tilting her neck back as his lips explored her, her breasts pulling into taut peaks. She felt herself start to throb again as his hands massaged her backside, sloping over her cheeks and rounding to the tops of her thighs.

When she couldn't take it any longer, she reached down to grasp him, pressing her forehead against his chest. "Inside of me?"

His cock jumped again, and a drop of pearly liquid escaped, rolling into her fingers.

He groaned and mumbled something into her hair.

Her heart beat quicker as she thought of how he'd said he imagined it — when he was behind her at the cauldron. She wriggled to face the table, one hand on his hip to keep him close.

She put her other hand on the table and leaned forward, her hair falling around her elbow. "Would it work like this?"

He staggered backward, and she had a split second to feel embarrassed before he moaned and curved around her from behind. He swept her hair off her shoulder, kissing her neck. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." Her eyelids fluttered as he dropped a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Draco, please."

His lips lifted, and he drew a ragged breath before stepping away to push down his trousers. She braced herself on the table and bit her lip, waiting.

The first brush of his cock against her backside had her jumping, but then his hand was at her hip, his other pressing her to open her legs. She could tell he was bending his knees, so she rose on her toes.

Her eyes widened as he began pushing through her folds, his other hand pulling her hips up and out. She wiggled her hips until his cock pressed against her entrance. He asked again if it was okay, and she nodded quickly.

This angle was different. Her jaw dropped open as he worked his way inside, pushing deeper each time. They both gasped when he finally bottomed out. She dropped her head down as she adjusted, her hair falling forward. He took a shaky breath and pressed a kiss to her nape.

"Good?"

"Yes."

The first pump of his hips had him moaning. Her eyes stared at the wall as he moved again, and again, setting a pace. She could tell he was already close, and heat curled in her belly at the feeling of being so deliciously used. Her walls stretched around him on every thick thrust, her fingers curling against the stone table as he rocked into her.

His hands reached up to cup her breasts, and she mewled when he thrummed her nipples, sending pleasure shooting through her core. Her legs shook from standing on her toes, but his thrusts were getting faster and faster.

Heat from the potions steaming next to them spiraled inward and outward, causing beads of sweat to drip from her temples and breasts. She felt wet all over with Draco holding her close to his chest, her back sliding against him as he grunted, burning her from the inside out.

The sensations he'd created earlier with his fingers seemed amplified by ten as he pounded into her, each drag of his cock against her front wall making stars burst in front of her eyes.

"Oh, god."

"Granger"—his hips stuttered, and his breath was hot on her neck—"if you come like this, I'm gonna lose it."

She whined, pressing back against him, and he growled and nipped her ear. She slammed her palms down on the table as he grabbed her hips, pulling her a step back from the table and shoving her spine forward.

She let out a low wail when he began moving again. It felt like she was being split open from this angle, his cock driving forward erratically and pushing her towards the edge. Her thighs began trembling, her mind spinning from the obscene sounds of his hips pounding into her backside, filling her completely every time, as if he couldn't bear to leave her body. He reached around her and slid his fingers to her clit, and she jerked as she cried out. Every muscle in her body pulled tight as she scratched her nails down the tabletop, trying to hold onto something.

"Just like that. Just like that." The words were like a prayer set to the rhythm of his hips. "Want you to come on it—"

Her body snapped, spiraling up to that blissful place only he could bring her to. Her throat was raw when she finally fluttered down, her arms buckling beneath her weight. He pulled her hips back faster and faster, groaning until he collapsed.

"Fuck."

His breath was hot on her ear as he throbbed inside of her, releasing. He shuddered against her back, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pinning her to him.

They'd never been standing before. Usually, he'd roll off her at the end, but now she had to lower her heels, moaning as he slipped out of her, his release dripping down her legs.

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Good? Are you alright?" He rubbed his hands over her stomach, reaching up to palm her breasts and rove his hands everywhere.

"Good." She managed a nod. "So good. You?"

"Fuck," he said, and she shivered. "You have no idea, Granger."

They spent the next few hours wrapped in each other's arms, waiting for the potions to simmer.

Over the next several days, they tracked biomarkers and tested various dosages of the antidote on the mice. She suspected her reconstructed version was somehow more potent because no matter how small a dose she tried, the antidote still took effect.

Draco watched each successful trial with a clipped interest, but he seemed to grow more irritable and tense as the tests continued with no adverse side effects.

On Thursday evening, he convinced her to try an even more diluted sample — she only placed a single drop of the antidote in a shared bowl of sugar water she lured the mice to drink. She turned to him as the third mouse successfully ran out of the circle.

"Tomorrow. We test it on me tomorrow."

Without lifting his eyes from the vials on the table, he nodded slowly. He pressed his lips together before speaking. "And then what?"

She pushed a few curls out of her face and blew out a breath. "Then we write it all down, make the Memory Restoration Potion, and bring all of it to Charlotte." She scribbled another checkmark in her notes before looking up at him again. "Could you get access to her?"

He was silent for a moment. "And then what for you?" His eyes flicked up to hers — a dull grey. "What's your next move, Granger?"

She opened her mouth and closed it. "My next move?"

"Yes." When she blinked at him, he crossed his arms and leaned against the lab table. "Will you stay, or will you go?"

"That's—there's a lot of things I haven't—" Hermione broke his gaze, wiping her palms on her jeans. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"Because I'd like to know the answer."

She took a deep breath. "Honestly, I've been so focused on breaking this tattoo and getting the information to the Order that I haven't…" Her throat felt thick, and she swallowed. "I mean, I've thought about it, but I figured I should wait to tackle that problem until I was finished with this one. And—I suppose it's solved now, so we should probably…"

He was still next to her. She played with a groove in the stone tabletop.

Her chest thumped when she finally lifted her eyes to his. "You could come with me."

His face was a mask. "I really couldn't, Granger."

"You and your mother." Her mind and her heart began to dance in time with each other. "We'll find the True Order, and I'll make sure you're both taken care of—"

"You couldn't ensure that."

"I could." Her voice shook. "I still have to think about your father, but if you and your mother safely delivered Hermione Granger to them—"

"Don't be naive." She flinched at the sharp edge to his voice. His eyes instantly softened. "Granger, that might have been true a year ago, but it's not enough anymore. Too much has happened."

"Yes, with you helping me! Helping our side!" She threw up her hands. "These are my friends, Draco. If I tell them everything you've done, they'll have no choice but to—"

"It's not about that anymore. Can't you see?" He stepped into her, gently taking her elbows. "Did you see the paper this morning?" Frowning, she shook her head. She'd been too busy thinking about the potion. "Canada, China, and Tunisia just pledged support to the True Order."

She searched his face, trying to follow his logic.

"The True Order has been traveling for months with those Portkeys. They're probably transporting in reinforcements as we speak." His throat bobbed. "My father and aunt are the two highest-ranking officers in the Great Order. If I just stroll into France with my mother in tow, there's a good chance your friends won't have a say in whatever they choose to do to us."

His eyes flickered as she pulled free. "Don't underestimate them. They're at the center of this. And I know George Weasley. I know Fleur and Angelina. They'll listen to me. They'll trust me."

She watched him clench his jaw and look down at his shoes. Unconvinced.

Her mind spun as she tried to create a plan. Leaving without the Malfoys would be as good as sentencing all three of them to death. Draco would be held responsible and interrogated for her disappearance. So would Narcissa and Lucius. Even if she managed to get to France, she'd be wondering all the while if Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius had been murdered. Perhaps Blaise and Theo as well.

Her heart shattered at the thought.

"Then I'm staying too."

Only his left eye twitched. His ribs expanded.

"For now," she clarified. "I'm staying until I can convince you to come with me."

"Granger, I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm giving them everything I know right now. As long as Charlotte can get it to them, staying a bit longer won't make a difference." She took a deep breath and filled two vials — one with the tattoo potion and the other with its antidote. She grabbed the parchment and quill she'd been using to create the tattoo on the mice.

"Tomorrow at noon. We'll go to the property line and test it."

She left him standing alone in his potions laboratory, still staring at the stone floor.

Waking in her own bed at the Manor was almost disorienting. She hadn't meant to create distance between herself and Draco, but she needed space to think. To plan. She'd stayed up until two in the morning, staring up at the ceiling of her canopy bed until she drifted off with no solutions. But it was a problem she'd have to pick up later.

Her breakfast tray looked lonely without tea and a second plate. She sat in the chair closest to the window as she drank her coffee and had a few bites of toast. Then she bathed, dried her hair, and went to her wardrobe. A glance out the windows showed a beautiful spring day, the sun high and golden, the trees swaying softly. It was too warm for denims.

Her fingers drifted over the clothes Pansy had given her, and they paused on the light blue sundress she'd liked all those months ago. With one more glance at the sunshine, she slipped the dress from the hanger and slid into the pale cotton. She put the vials, quill, and parchment in a loose bag she found at the top of her wardrobe, and headed out the door.

Draco's eyes flickered over her as he stepped into the hall at the same time. He shut his door behind him and let his gaze rest on her calves.

"Going somewhere, Granger?" He lifted a brow with a tight smile.

She smiled at him, and after half a heartbeat's hesitation, she reached to take his hand.

They walked down the stairs together, the vials clicking in her bag. At the base of the stairs, he tugged her toward the back.

"Better to use the northern perimeter, in case we have any unexpected guests at the front gates. Mother's less likely to see us as well."

She nodded and let him lead her. They passed Hix's bluebells and the gazebo, following the same path she'd taken the day she'd tried crossing the barrier the first time — when Lucius had to carry her back.

Hermione tried to start a conversation with little success, so they walked in silence down the little lane between hedges. She felt his gaze on her as they walked — glancing down at their intertwined hands, or at the side of her face. She finally turned to give him an inquisitive look, but he simply stared at her.

They stopped a few yards in front of the opening to the grassy field. She pointed out past the lane. "Do these acres belong to the Manor?"

He nodded. "It's where I'd play Quidditch."

A smile tugged at her lips as she imagined it. "What else did you get up to?"

He shrugged. "There's a copse of trees just around the hedge. I used to hide there with a book."

Her smile widened, and she turned to look at him. His cheeks were pink, but he held her gaze.

She released his hand and shrugged the bag from her other shoulder, retrieving the vials. One was a thick black with flecks of gold in it, just like the ink on her arm — the tattoo potion. The other was a clear liquid — the antidote.

Glancing up at Draco, she found him staring down at the two vials with an empty expression. She put the second one back in the bag, dropping it on the ground.

Her pulse raced as she uncapped the clear potion, brought it to her lips, and took a tiny sip. It was light and tasteless.

She lifted her left arm and stared down at her tattoo. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she waited, praying and hoping—

And then the letters of Draco's initials shivered, as if they'd been shaken free, disappearing as if carried by the summer wind.

The vial dropped from her grip as she gasped, running her fingers over the skin. Only Bellatrix's marks left.

Her eyes snapped up to Draco. He looked dazed, his mouth open and eyes fixed on her arm.

Hermione whipped around to the barrier and took two large steps through it.

Nothing. She looked down at her arm. Nothing.

Victory broke over her in slow waves, and the ground reeled beneath her feet. She'd done it. She'd broken the tattoos. The True Order would have the solution to freeing the Lots, once and for all. They could give it to Angelina. They could purge it from all their systems, as if it was never there.

A shriek escaped her lips before she could stop herself. A laugh burst from her chest as she spun in a circle, throwing her arms out. Catching her breath and closing her eyes in the sunlight, she turned to find Draco smiling softly at her at the edge of the perimeter. She raced to him, throwing herself into his arms and kissing everywhere she could reach.

"We did it— Draco, we—"

Pulling back, she felt a pressure behind her eyes. Her vision blurred with him still smiling at her.

She disentangled herself from his arms and raced back to the boundary again. Again, nothing. The space on her arm where the initials D.M. used to reside was just clear skin. There was only the word Mudblood, and Bellatrix's apostrophe "s."

Turning to look out over the acres and acres of the Manor, Hermione breathed deeply as the sun poured down on her, the wind tickling her calves.

She spun back to Draco. "Race you."

She took off to the right without any sense of direction, laughing and waiting for him to call after her.

But it was silent.

Her feet stumbled to a stop. Turning back, she saw Draco still standing at the end of the lane, his hands in his pockets. Something punctured inside her, sinking deep.

She walked back to him quickly, almost at a jog. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly. "Draco?"

His eyes were on the fields, intent and flickering. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and extended the handle to her. His fingers trembled.

"Take it. Go."

Her brows twitched as she stared down at the hawthorn. "Draco—"

"There's no reason to stay," he said, his words catching on the wind. His eyes refused to meet hers. "The last rumor of their location was Norwich. About three weeks ago, there was a possible sighting of someone on the Prophet's Wanted list. We didn't find anything, but it's possible we missed them."

"Draco, we've been through this—"

"You'll find the Order somehow. I know you will. You're brilliant."

She watched him swallow thickly and force the wand into her hand. Her heart clenched in agony, her mind spinning as she warred with herself. Closing her eyes, she took a step backward and tried to think.

"You said there was no trace of the True Order in the U.K. Were you telling me the truth?"

"Of course I was—"

"Then assuming I can't find them, my only option is to Apparate to France or another True Order ally that's close enough for me not to Splinch myself — all of whom have instituted Anti-Apparition Lines." She took a deep breath. "To say nothing of the fact that I'd have to find a way to pass through the U.K.'s Anti-Apparition Line, which has apparently been strengthened in recent weeks."

Her eyelids flew open to silence.

"Draco. I may be a clever witch, but those are enormous odds."

He met her eyes finally. They were wet.

"Then I'll ask Charlotte where I can take you. Once she has her mind back, we'll ask who her contacts are—"

"They'll kill you if I leave and you stay."

And there it was. The truth she couldn't live with, for all her logic. For all her burning desire to return to her friends and fight.

Her hands were trembling, and she curled them into fists. "Could you go somewhere else? If you won't come with me?"

"Yes. Yeah, I could." He dropped his gaze to the blades of grass beneath their feet. "The Malfoys have properties around the world. I could figure something out."

The words fell too quickly from his lips. "Don't lie to me." Her voice shook, and he glanced up at her as she swiped her cheeks. "Tell me if you'd leave. And if your mother would go with you."

He hesitated. "I would try to take her. But she wouldn't leave my father."

"Would your father go?"

And he was silent.

She took a deep breath and looked down at the wand in her hand, singing with magic. She stepped up to him and pressed it back into his hand.

He stared at it blankly, then up at her. "I can't ask you to stay here—"

"You're not." She pushed up on her toes and kissed him. His lips barely moved against hers, but she persisted, sinking her fingers into his hair and cupping his face. She wiped her cheeks when she pulled away, looking up at him. "It's the smartest plan for everyone involved. I'm staying until all of us can get out."

His eyes searched hers, the grey walls breaking apart piece by piece until she could find him behind the Occlumency.

"Why?" he said, voice softer than the wind.

A thousand answers of logic and love raced through her mind, but really only one thing could pinpoint all of them.

"It's the right thing to do."

His eyes flickered over hers. She gave him a soft smile and took his hand, leading him to the place where she'd dropped the bag. She picked it up and pulled out the black vial.

He grabbed her arm when she uncapped it. "Don't— I can glamour it—"

"Glamours fade, Draco," she said, pulling her arm free. "We can't risk it." She lifted it to her lips and drank.

Pansy was right. Like ink, curling and twisting inside her veins. Shivering, she handed him the parchment and enchanted quill. She stared at him until he took them from her, signing with shaking fingers. Blood appeared upon the parchment as two letters etched themselves on her arm.

D.M.

Just as it had been before.

She brushed her fingers over it, watching the gold glitter under the black.

They walked through the boundary, and the letters on her arm sparkled. She tried a quick test, and sparks flew through her veins until she wrenched her arm back inside the barrier. The magic crackled as Draco took her hand and pulled her away, leading her past the gazebo and back home.

That night as they undressed each other, he stared mournfully down at her freshly inked tattoo.

She lifted his chin to hers and said, "It doesn't mean anything."

Kissing him soundly, she pushed him down on the bed and climbed over him, straddling his waist as they made love — as he showed her how to move her hips and where to place her hands. He watched her body writhe on top of him with fire in his eyes and let her take her pleasure whatever way she wanted, kissing her until she couldn't draw breath with how much she loved him.

On Saturday morning, they hatched their plans for Draco's visit to Edinburgh. There were reports that the castle was vacant except for the Carrows and their Lots, their operations suspended as they awaited Berge's new wards. Draco had heard that Carrows were often drunk by midday, so they decided he should go well before dinner, in case they were incapacitated.

It took two hours for the Memory Restoration Potion to brew and simmer with Charlotte's memories. Draco would take the Memory Potion and the instructions for the tattoo antidote to Edinburgh, creating an excuse to speak to the Carrows about buying Cassandra when Edinburgh reopened. He'd lowball them, and they'd throw him out.

When he could sneak away, he would Polyjuice himself as a random Muggle so that Charlotte and the girls would have no memory of Draco Malfoy creeping about the castle. He'd find a way to isolate Charlotte — the Imperius Curse was not off the table — and give her the potion to return her memories. If he was caught by the Carrows, he'd claim to be inspecting the girls for a cheaper alternative.

Once Charlotte drank the potion returning her memories, it was crucial that Draco permanently Obliviated the memory of him taking her memories in the first place, the night Edinburgh was attacked — to cover his tracks.

It was a complex plan, but Draco seemed confident enough. And she trusted that he could do it.

They decided to have lunch with Narcissa to head off attention before he slipped away. But on their way to the dining room, they stumbled on a flurry of activity in the entryway.

They both froze to see Lucius across the room, freshly emerged from the Floo. He was stepping around the elves as they tried to take his cloak from him.

"Leave me," he hissed. "That's quite enough—"

Narcissa stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hands folded, watching him anxiously. "Is everything alright? I thought you'd be in Poland by now—"

"Change of plans. I'm headed to Baffin Island," he said sharply, striding over to kiss her cheek. "I need to drop off a few things, and then I'll be on my way."

Narcissa's face fell before she blinked away her disappointment. Lucius nodded once at his son before walking briskly down the hallway and turning the corner toward his study.

Hermione's mind whirred. Baffin Island was Canadian territory, just off its eastern coast. Lucius was headed to Canada — one of the few countries pledging support to the True Order. Her stomach twisted violently. Voldemort was planning a counterattack. They'd take the island first, and then turn to the mainland.

Narcissa turned to the two of them with a thin smile. "Lunch is served. I'll be there shortly."

Hermione walked to the dining room, her skin clammy as she exchanged looks with Draco. Neither of them spoke until Narcissa joined them, confirming Lucius had already left with a brush to her lashes.

Hermione and Draco hurried to his room after lunch. Draco hadn't heard anything more than whispers about a counterattack, but he agreed that Canada was the likely target. They were both too on edge from Lucius's visit, and decided Edinburgh would have to wait until tomorrow. Hermione spent the rest of the day pacing in front of Draco's chairs, quizzing him on various scenarios that might unfold during his visit to Edinburgh while he rolled his eyes.

But all the while, she wondered what it was Lucius needed to do in his study so desperately that he'd left his post — with barely a moment to greet his family.

Just after lunch on Sunday, when Narcissa had retired to her room, Draco collected his potions, kissed her swiftly, and swept out the door. Hermione watched his figure grow smaller down the lane, the April wind billowing his cloak.

It would be fine. It had to be.

Hermione turned from the doorway after he cleared the gates and popped out of existence. She let her eyes drift across the Manor's entryway, feeling an itch across her shoulder blades as if there was something she needed to be doing.

But there was nothing.

A strange emptiness settled over her. She'd done her part. By the end of the day, she and Draco would have aided the True Order by returning Charlotte's memories and passing along the antidote to the tattoos. They had to discuss their next steps when he returned, but for now… she had accomplished her mission. The thing that had consumed her for months.

There was one other problem, of course. But the impossibility of it staggered her. Even though the True Order had risked dozens of lives in a rescue mission in the hopes that she could help them with it.

Contrary to what Cho and Viktor might have thought, she had no clue what else she had to offer the True Order in destroying Voldemort. Her mind was valuable, yes, but she'd already passed the most critical information she possessed on that subject to Ginny and Charlotte. And by extension, the True Order.

The only other thing that was niggling at her brain was behind Lucius Malfoy's closed study door.

Her feet wandered down the corridor on their own accord, turning the corner and taking her in the direction of study. Her heart skipped as she neared the door, her mind buzzing with the thrill of a new problem. Lucius might have left a clue about the attack on Canada behind that door. If only she could access it.

On instinct, Hermione pressed her ear against the wood, listening carefully for the scratching of a quill or the clink of ice against glass. She reached out to try the handle, knowing it was useless—

The handle warmed beneath her touch, and turned.

She gaped down at the brass. With a shove, she sent the door open wide. A flame sprang to life in the lamp on the wall, charmed by magic. She stepped as close as she could to the location of the invisible barrier by memory, peering at the items on his desk. She rose on her toes, squinting and craning her neck — and stumbled forward.

Flinching, Hermione caught herself, her heart thumping in her ears. She looked down at her feet and gasped. She'd landed well-past the door frame.

The barrier had disappeared — the one that kept her from entering the study.

Peeking her head out the door, she looked both ways along the corridor. Upon seeing not even an elf, she spun around and darted inside.

Lucius's desk was organized, pristine, and bare. There were no notes or trinkets on the polished wood, besides a small frame of a much younger Narcissa, grinning shyly at the photographer and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Hermione looked over his shelves, spying the empty Foe Glass, and drew a sharp breath, trying to decide where she might hide something important if she were Lucius Malfoy.

Something shimmered across the room, and her heart jumped in her throat. Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes focused on the culprit — a small silver lock sealing an ornate cabinet. The skin on the back of her neck prickled.

If she were Lucius Malfoy, that's where she'd hide something.

She drew out the drawers in Lucius's desk, rifling through them and searching for the keys. When she found nothing, she approached the cabinet and stared down at the lock. After attempting a wandless Alohomora, she pressed her fingers to her lips, thinking through any other options she had.

She reached forward to examine the mechanism, and as soon as her fingers touched the silver, the tumblers turned.

She stumbled backward, her mouth falling open as the lock twisted until it unlatched. Looking over her shoulder to make sure it wasn't a trick, she whipped her head back in awe as the cabinet doors slowly swung open, revealing a granite stone basin within.

A Pensieve.

Lucius Malfoy had a Pensieve.

The shelves in her mind trembled, her heart pumping so fast she could barely think. Draco had said his father never had use for one. Had he been lying to his son, or had he discovered a new necessity?

Memories swirled in the basin like morning mist as she stepped closer. The threads at the surface morphed into a pale-faced man in military robes, begging in a thick accent, "I don't know anything! Please!"

Was that what he'd come to his study for? To leave behind a recent memory?

Hermione's eyes caught on a set of black-tinted vials on a high shelf. Silver threads danced inside of them. She peered up at them, but the silver cloud below began shifting again, catching her gaze.

Her own face rose from the bottom of the basin, pale and terrified, before sinking back again. Her breath left her as she stared down at the Pensieve, the image still burning behind her eyelids.

What purpose would Lucius have to extract memories of her?

Before she could second guess herself, she gripped the edge of the Pensieve and plunged her head into the shallow waters.

Draco's bedroom materialized before her eyes. She landed next to his bed at the exact moment Lucius Malfoy released his grip on her jaw and said, "You stupid girl. If you love him, stop trying to get him killed."

She watched herself slide down the wall, shrinking back from him. He glared at her with ice in his eyes and threatened to hand her over to Dolohov.

It stung just as it had the first time.

He swept toward the fireplace, and Hermione was swept along with him, arriving in the dungeons at Edinburgh. Lucius took half a second to get his bearings before slipping through the door and striding down the long corridor where Rabastan had dragged Charlotte. Hermione followed him, still tiptoeing, as if she could be heard.

A light flickered behind a gate, and Lucius stepped quickly toward it. He pushed the gate open with a creak, and a spell shot at him. She jumped while he deflected, and she rushed into the room with him before it closed.

Draco was hovering over Charlotte, his wand pointed at his father with dawning terror in his eyes.

"Father. I can explain—"

"Are you quite finished?" Lucius's nostrils flared. "We don't have time for your lies."

Charlotte's eyes flickered between the two of them with apprehension. She was on her knees, her arms and ankles chained to the wall.

"I—" Draco's voice cracked. "I'm almost done with her. But I still need to Obliviate him."

He nodded toward her feet, and Hermione looked down to find the crumpled body of Jugson. Lucius curled his lip before glaring up at his son.

"There are other Carrow Girls in the cell next door. They've been working with her." Draco's brow was sweating, and he wiped it with his forearm. "If their minds are read, it will be clear that Charlotte's memories were tampered with."

Lucius snarled and spun around to Jugson. "Obliviate." The tip of his wand glowed, then dimmed. "Meet me there when you're done with her."

"Thank you, Father," Draco whispered. "Thank you for…"

But Draco's voice faded. The world began to shiver, as if she'd been thrust into cold water. The dungeons at Edinburgh blurred, reforming into an unfamiliar dungeon. Higher stone ceilings and a crisper draft of air. Draco's words twisted into a eerie song, cackled by an icy voice—

"Thank you for joining us, Lucius."

Hermione spun and found Bellatrix in tight black trousers and a cape, drawing the length of her wand through her fingertips. Draco stood at her side, staring down at four cuffed prisoners at his feet. Lucius in the doorway, surveying the scene with a wan expression.

"Welcome back to Zürich," she said with a mocking bow. "You've arrived just in time. I'm instructing."

Lucius stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "And what is it that you are qualified to teach, Bella?"

She bared her teeth at him in a smile. "How to destroy weakness."

Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco. He wore his Death Eater black robes and boots. His eyes were hollow and his skin dull. He swallowed once, but gave no other indication of listening.

One of the prisoners began shifting, turning his eyes up to Lucius. "Please," he said in a shaky Swiss German accent. "Please help us—"

One flick of Bella's wand and the man was silent. Cocking her head, she silenced the remaining men.

Lucius strolled to stand behind the prisoners, as if they were a wall between him and his sister-in-law. "You're interfering with the Dark Lord's campaign, Bella. You forget that the Great Order is a champion of the Swiss magical community." He looked down at them. "Who are these men?"

"No one of importance," she said. "Trust me, they won't be missed. Just like the rats in the Manor cellar, yes?" Bellatrix moved behind Draco and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. "We have to get our boy strong. Get him ready." She leveled an intent gaze at her brother-in-law. "People have started to talk, Lucius."

Hermione looked to Draco, her heart thundering.

Lucius curled his lip at her. "Then let them. Draco was not brought here to become a common executioner. He has an excellent rapport with the new German Minister, who's upstairs, being forced to endure Dolohov's company while you're playing your little tricks in the basement."

Bellatrix's features fell into a dramatic pout. "Just one before dinner? I won't let Antonin and the others claim that someone with Black blood can't cast an Unforgivable." She lifted a brow. "As for Malfoys…"

Lucius sneered at her and pulled his wand. He flicked it to the ceiling, sending a jet of light that arced into four beams, hurtling down at the four prisoners. They fell over with silent screams as the Cruciatus Curses hit them, their eyes rolling back and their bodies twitching.

Draco shivered once before his eyes clouded.

Lucius pocketed his wand. Bellatrix frowned and released her hold on Draco.

"If we're quite done," Lucius hissed, "my son is needed upstairs."

Bellatrix smirked, strolling lazily toward Lucius. "He could have been our son," she hummed. She stood in front of him and let her fingers trail across Lucius's chest. "Think of how much stronger he would have been then."

"Stronger, perhaps. Certainly less sane."

Bellatrix tilted her head back to the ceiling and cackled. "We could have had such fun together, Lucius."

She waltzed out the door.

Hermione stared down at the tortured men, then to Draco. He was as immovable as a stone wall.

"Draco," Lucius said softly. He flicked his wand and released the curse.

Draco turned to him, and as he opened his mouth, the room began to shiver again. The word "Father" was screamed from his mouth.

Bright sunlight burst before Hermione's eyes. Everywhere she looked there was white.

She blinked, her ears ringing with the hiss of wandwork, the sharp explosions of battle, and a crash of waves.

When her eyes could focus, she found Draco and Lucius next to her, fighting back to back — Draco casting defense while Lucius took offense.

They were on a shore. A white cliffside rose up high like a tower to her right, to her left, a clear blue ocean, the waves crashing against a stone beach.

A spell whizzed past her face. She whipped around and saw Draco jump out of the way at the last possible moment, stumbling several yards to the right. When he adjusted, he looked up — almost directly at her — and his eyes blew wide.

A bolt of light burst through her chest, slamming into him. She screamed as he fell back on the rocky beach, yelling and thrashing. Hermione spun to see his attacker and found Charlie Weasley staring down at him with a hard jaw.

She had less than a moment to take him in before "Avada Kedavra!" was hissed across the ocean spray. Charlie Weasley died with the ghost of a smile on his face, just like his younger brother. Hermione turned to see Lucius already lowering his wand and running for his son.

Hermione stumbled, her legs buckling. This was Dover. The battle at Dover Castle that led to the escape of much of the resistance within the U.K. The battle that resulted in Charlie Weasley's death after hitting Draco with an Acid Hex.

She ran to Draco's screaming body and dropped to his side, her eyes stinging as Lucius cast a series of healing charms. His face grew paler as he tried spell after spell.

"It's an Acid Hex," Hermione wheezed, knowing he couldn't hear her.

Draco cried out, and Hermione could see the bones of his shoulder before they started to splinter away. Lucius Stunned him and dropped his head, taking a deep breath.

"Malfoy! They're getting away!"

Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw at Death Eater sprinting past, only to drop with a hit from a green light to his back.

She watched Lucius's eyes rove frantically over his son before his lips parted. "Mippy," he called hoarsely.

In three seconds, the elf appeared. Hermione's shoulders shook.

"Master Draco—!"

"Take him to Dr. Xavier immediately. Once he is settled, bring Narcissa to him."

Lucius stood swiftly, and Hermione watched him sweep down the beach, headed for the shore as the breeze twisted around his robes and hair.

Mippy and Draco were gone a moment later.

She stood on shaking legs and ran after him. Spells flew toward him, but he beat them back, headed for the water.

She didn't know why until the waves lapped at her ankles.

Three boats rowed out into the ocean. The one furthest away was empty. She furrowed her brow and found the next furthest boat, just as two of the passengers Disapparated.

Her jaw dropped, her mind spinning back to a months-old article from the Prophet. The Anti-Apparition Line. They were paddling past it until they could Apparate into France.

There was one last person in the second boat. Lucius raised his wand and sent a curse hurtling toward them, missing the person by inches as they Disapparated.

He walked further into the water until it lapped at his thighs. The third boat was almost there. He cast a spell to drag it back, his whole body lunging and pulling the weight of it. A woman screamed as the boat rocked.

It was Katie Bell. Hermione's heart pounded.

She turned to the white cliffs at Dover and found only bodies. Lucius was the last Death Eater standing.

The four bodies in the boat grappled for control, and Hermione watched the water slosh. Lucius reeled back, his arm arcing overhead—

And the woman at the back of the boat turned over her shoulder, locking eyes with him.

Andromeda Tonks. She scrambled, pointing her wand at him.

Even from here she was recognizable.

Lucius hesitated, his lips pulled in a snarl.

And from around Andromeda's shoulder, a small head peeked, crawling up from her arms to look back at the beach.

Hermione heard Lucius take a heavy breath, still poised to strike.

Teddy Lupin stared at him, and after cocking his head, the Metamorphmagus toddler changed his hair to Malfoy blond.

Lucius lowered his wand.

Katie Bell and two others popped out of existence. Andromeda and Teddy followed.

And then there were only three empty row boats bobbing in the waves at the beach at Dover, the only sound the crash of waves and caws of seagulls.

With a deep sigh of relief, she turned to stare at Lucius, feeling tears streaming down her face. His eyes never left the spot Andromeda had been, his jaw working just like his son's did.

"Granger?"

She jumped, looking to Lucius's lips, confused when he hadn't spoken.

"Granger."

Spinning to her right, she found Draco standing next to her, in the same clothes he'd left in earlier that day for Edinburgh. Lifetimes ago.

She gasped, and her mind reached up, up, and out of the Pensieve.

Her hands were clenched white around the basin, her breath coming in quick gasps.

Draco was standing next to her with a furious look on his face. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I—I came in by accident. Well, I didn't mean to find the Pensieve—"

"How did you even get in here?"

Her mouth felt dry. "The door was open."

"And you just assumed that meant you had an open invitation?" he snarled, and she cringed away from him. "No one is allowed in here, not even Mother."

"There was no boundary spell—"

"So you thought that meant it was alright?" His brows popped off his forehead, his voice rising. She wrapped her arms around her waist. "Merlin, Granger. I just risked my life doing something you asked of me, and you can't even wait for me to come home before creating yet another catastrophe? If my father had caught you—"

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have. But… Draco." She bit her lip, searching his face. "Your father has a Pensieve you didn't know about. I watched a few of the memories, and—"

"Leave." His eyes were hard as steel, boring into her. "Please."

"But—"

"Granger, enough!" His voice echoed against the walls.

She jerked her head in a nod, and slid past him. She turned around to face him when she was in the corridor, searching for injuries even though the Acid Hex was months ago.

"How did it go? Charlotte?"

"Perfectly," he said flatly. "The Carrows were half-drunk when they threw me out, and no one saw me except for Charlotte. The potion worked, and she knows what she has to do with the Antidote."

Hermione blinked, licking her lips. "And did she suspect who you were?"

"No. She pressed me on my real identity, but she understood why I refused."

"That's—that's incredible, Draco." She smiled tentatively at him, but he was still glaring at her, his fists clenched. "Thank you," she whispered, and he shut the door in her face.

She trudged back to her room with shame and embarrassment boiling in her gut. She shoved it aside after a few minutes, focusing instead on the selection of memories Lucius had collected. Her mind roved over the first — Edinburgh. She shivered at the reminder of the Switzerland memory, remembering Bellatrix's cackle as she skipped out the door.

But at Dover. He could have stopped a third of the escapees at the beach, but he hesitated when he saw Narcissa's sister.

Hermione frowned at Draco's bedroom door, her guilt coming back to her in waves. Perhaps he didn't want her there when she returned, but she didn't care. He'd be forced to hear her apology.

She read in his chair by the fire, but she started to itch after an hour, wondering if he was watching the memories. Were there many others she hadn't seen?

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, she picked at their dinner plates until finally he opened the door. She quickly stood, taking in his exhausted expression and furrowed brow.

He stared at her, and she stared back. When she could stand it no longer, she blurted, "Did you watch them?"

After a silence that seemed to last lifetimes, he nodded. She twisted her hands together.

"What about the ones in the vials? Did you watch those?"

He dipped his chin again, and his eyes lifted from the carpets. He opened his mouth, and closed it.

"I didn't watch those," she said. "Was there…is there something in them that's bothering you?"

His throat bobbed as he studied her. "Do you remember when Goyle's father went missing?"

"Yes, he was never found." She drew a sharp breath. "Or was he?"

Draco rubbed his brow. "Let me start earlier."

She waited. He dropped his hand and tilted his head at her.

"What's a Horcrux?"

Hermione blinked, like a hit had landed to her stomach, reeling her back decades.

.

.

A/N: Updates every other Sunday (Next update 7/26/20)