I am posting this before my brand new beta, Bella Luna 92, has a chance to look at it (because life is busy, y'all), so all errors are mine.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all things HP. And I love JK Rowling.

Draco ran, feet pounding into the packed dirt of the battlefield, breaths coming in short, frantic bursts. All around, lights flashed. Voldemort was dead, but still, the battle raged on and people everywhere were screaming - some in pain, some in anger, some in glee - but he couldn't be bothered to stop and figure out if anyone needed his help. He was on a mission - his magic buzzing with the need to move toward the only person in the world who he cared about more than himself.

He tripped, not because of any external stimulus, but because for a moment his magic flared painfully in his chest as if he'd been struck by a curse, and he fell, clutching his chest as a silent scream ripped from his chest. Panic flared to life and his fingertips tingled as he struggled to his feet and pushed himself onward, chasing the invisible string of magic that connected him to the witch that he would die for.

Move, he silently commanded his limbs, pushing through the lingering phantom pain from whatever they were doing to his witch. Faster.

He broke through the edge of the battle. The sun was setting, and the trees of the Forbidden Forest looked even more menacing than usual as the daylight slipped away. But the string, that bit of magic that connected them, was pulling him there. So he went without even a beat of hesitation.

The closer he got to her, the stronger the magic hummed. By the time he could see the glow of wand light up ahead, his magic was vibrating in a way that made him think, when he finally got to her, he might explode with the force of it.

He slowed, despite his need to rush to her, and disillusioned himself. Up ahead, a circle of witches and wizards in black robes and blocked dim, sinister-looking firelight. She was there. He could feel her. This close, his heartbeat had synced with hers. Their magics recognized one another and his heart fluttered. He knew hers would, too. Knew she would know he was close. He hoped that would give her strength until he could get her.

Disillusioned now, he crept toward the firelight, afraid of what he would see. The black-robed people were packed tightly together. With the careful aiming of his wand and a nonverbal hex, an explosion 20 yards to the left had a small group of them scampering off to investigate. He used their absence to slip into the circle.

"He's here," a cackling, crackling female voice said, and he froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He knew that voice, and because of that, knew it was impossible that he was hearing it. She was dead. He'd killed her in his exploding cabinet. He'd seen her - parts of her - strewn across the Room of Requirement. "He actually came." He looked around, and though he was disillusioned, though he should be all but invisible, they were all looking at him as if they could see him. "Come out, nephew," Bellatrix cooed. He met her eyes - dark and wild and not quite human - and then he looked to her right where the one tied to his heart and his magic floated above the ground, mouth clamped shut, eyes wide and leaking tears as they stared at him.

With a thought, the disillusionment charm fell away, and his aunt Bella smirked.

"Here for your mudblood, nephew?" she asked. Her wand twitched and Hermione's eyes grew wider as blood joined the tears leaking from her eyes. He felt her pain in his bones.

Draco said nothing as his heart hammered. He wasn't afraid, though. He was angry. Righteously, completely angry. He looked at Hermione - at her pale skin, at the bruises marring her arms and neck, at her torn clothing - and his anger flared white-hot.

"I'm here for you, aunt Bella," he said, his voice as calm as a Malfoy's voice should be, belaying none of his shock at seeing her, none of his fear.

"Come to join us, have you?" she asked, twisting her wand as one might twist a knife, and Hermione coughed - silenced - and blood trickled down her chin. He felt the ache in his chest but didn't let it show.

"I've come to kill you," he said, matter-of-factly, fingers tightening on his wand.

Bellatrix stared at him for a moment, before she laughed. She laughed big and loud, her black and silver hair dancing all about as if there were wind pushing it. Her laugh sounded multi-dimensional as if it were coming from multiple mouths. It was terrifying.

"Kill me?" she asked, once she'd caught her breath, mirth still spelled across her face. The other Death Eaters tittered all around them. "My sweet nephew, whatever for?" She smiled and showed her grotesque, blackened teeth and sneered.

"You've hurt someone I love," he said, his voice deadly low. He looked back to Hermione and fresh tears dripped down her blood-and-dirt caked cheeks. He took a breath and looked back at his aunt. "And I'm going to make you suffer for it. All of you."

Bellatrix lifted her wand and Hermione floated higher, arms going out as if she were on a crucifix. "That's bloody adorable," Bella said as Hermione opened her mouth in another silent scream.

Draco stared at Hermione, his magic vibrating so hard he thought he might combust. He needed to get to her, to hold her, to take her away from this.

"Granger," he said, and her panicked, pain-filled eyes landed on him. "I've got you."

Bella started to laugh, but Draco turned and apparated away, only to appear a fraction of a second later in the air beside Hermione. He wrapped himself around her and Bella's magic was broken. They fell to the ground, Draco taking the brunt of the hit before he rolled and put his body on top of hers.

"Now!" Draco heard Potter's voice as if from a distance as he threw up the strongest, wandless shield charm he could - protego maxima - surrounding himself and his love, hunkering over her body like a human shield. All around, outside his bubble, flashes of light and screaming ensued. Potter and the others - Weasley, Longbottom, Weaslette, Lovegood, and a host of other Order and DA members ambushed the Death Eaters.

"Draco." Her voice was soft, like candlelight, and he leaned up enough to see her face in the flashes from the surrounding wands.

"I've got you," he said again, pressing his cracked lips to her sweaty forehead. Salty trails of blood and tears marred her cheeks. He could feel her heartbeat pounding against his chest and it grounded him as his beat to the same rhythm.

"Draco."

He curled more tightly around her, strengthening his shield charm. He didn't dare try to disapparate them away in the middle of the battle.

He heard his aunt Bella scream curses. He heard his aunt Bella scream in pain, her voice fragmented again as if she weren't quite human. She couldn't be, since she'd already died once. But before he could think too hard about what she was - horcrux or demon or something horribly in between - her screams stopped and the forest grew quiet.

As soon as it had started, it was over.

No more curses flew, but still Draco held Hermione beneath his shield charm. Her fingers gripped the sides of his shirt.

"Malfoy," Potter's voice cut through the quiet and Draco hazarded a look up. He was surrounded by the witches and wizards on his side - on their side.

Malfoy lowered the shield and stood, putting his arms beneath Hermione's legs and under her shoulders to hold her against him. She held onto his neck, her arm slung over his neck, her face pressed into the crook of his shoulder.

"Is she alright?" Weasley asked, his voice strained.

"She is," he said, adjusting her weight in his arms. "I think. I need to get her to a healer to be sure." He tightened his grip on her as she tightened her grip on him.

"So, it worked," Potter stated more than asked. "The marriage bond led you to her." His expression was tired and resigned. He'd killed Voldemort only a few hours earlier, and with this group of Death Eaters dead all around them, the battle was - hopefully - nearing its end.

"I told you it would," Hermione said softly. She turned her face from Draco's neck but kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"Can you reverse it?" Weasley asked, his voice raw, from just beside Harry in the near dark. The small fire that the Death Eaters had conjured was fading, and in that very dim light, Draco could see the unadulterated hope on his dirty face.

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice quiet, but firm. "But we won't."

Draco hadn't realized he was nervous, hadn't realized his heart was in his throat and his muscles were tight enough to snap until she said those words. Yes. But we won't. She wanted the marriage bond to remain. She wanted it.

"'Mione - " Weasley began, but Hermione started to cough, clutching her stomach, and Draco tightened his grip on here once more.

"She needs to go see a healer," Draco said, trying to keep his voice soft. Weasley's eyes darted to him, angry and broken, and Draco felt a moment of remorse and guilt. In another life, it would be Weasley holding Hermione, loving her, willing to give his life for her. And in this life, maybe it should be him instead of Draco. But it wasn't. And Draco wasn't about to let go of the one perfect thing in his life.

That being said, the pain on Weasley's face stirred something in him. "Hold on," he said with a sigh. Gently, he lowered Hermione so that she was standing beside him and she sagged against him. From his pocket, he pulled two sickles. He squeezed them, said a silent charm, and they warmed in his hand.

"Trackers," he said, placing one in Hermione's pocket and the other in Weasley's hand, before hoisting his witch back into his arms. "I'll find a healer, get her checked out, and activate it so you'll know where to come." Draco swallowed, his mouth dry.

Weasley took the sickle and his shoulders fell. He nodded, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

"You can get her there OK?" Potter asked, jaw tight as the sound of fighting grew louder again near the castle. "Sounds like we have a bit more to do."

"I have her," Draco said. "Send a Patronus when it's done."

Harry gave him a single, succinct nod, then turned toward his rag-tag group. "Let's go finish this."

Weasley lingered for a breath longer than the rest. "Take care of her," he said, voice full of pain - the pain of battle, the pain of losing the girl he was supposed to have loved, the pain of growing up too fast.

"I will." Draco tightened his grip on Hermione's legs again. And then Weasley was off and he and his witch were alone in the total darkness.

"Hermione - " he said, but she leaned forward and captured his lips before he could say anything else, her breath puffing over his lips gently, causing the magic in his chest to hum with satisfaction and want.

"You came for me," she said against his lips, her voice trembling even as her arms wrapped around his neck tighter.

"Where else would I be?" he asked, pressing his lips to her forehead, kissing her cheekbones, which tasted slightly of blood. "We need to get you to a healer," he said.

"Not yet," she said, gently disengaging from him and sliding down his body to stand, though she needed him for support the whole way. "First - " she took a deep, steadying breath. "The bond."

"The marriage bond," he said, heart hammering as hard as it had the day she found him in the Room of Requirement.

"I told them we wouldn't break it." Her voice was small. "I didn't ask you first." She closed her eyes and her breath trembled again. "I know we did it as a safety measure, to find each other, but - "

"I want to keep it," he said, his fingers gripping her waist tightly, but not tightly enough to hurt her. "If you do, I want to." He stepped closer, though their chests were already pressed together. "I love you," he breathed.

Hermione sagged with relief. She melted against him and sobbed once. He held her - his arms around her waist, hers around his neck.

"Are you sure?" she asked, echoing the many times he's said those same words to her - when he first kissed her, the night he'd destroyed the cabinet, the night he'd proposed, the first time they'd made love.

"I'm sure," he said, his lips pillowing hers as their breath mixed softly.

"Good," she said with a smile against his lips.

"After all this," Draco said, pulling her back up into his arms - stronger now than they'd been when they first collided in the Room of Requirement all those months ago. "I'd like to take you on a date," he said, adjusting his grip around her small body so that he would be sure not to drop her during apparition. "To dinner, or to a show. Anything, really."

"Whatever you want," she sighed against his neck, her lips brushing his skin softly and setting his heart racing.

"I want to take you to a healer," he said, and he felt her nod even as her heart rate slowed to a more normal speed, along with his.

Back toward the castle, the sounds of battle had faded away. The fire the Death Eaters had lit was gone, and in the dark of the Forbidden Forest, his witch wrapped in his arms, Draco felt a peace like he'd never felt before.

With a kiss to her forehead, he twisted, and with a pop, they were gone.