Chapter 18: Baby, We'll Be Fine

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and I do not own Dr. Who. (Anybody else aching for the Christmas Special? I am!)

Hermione turned and turned again. She wasn't going to get much sleep tonight, but perhaps it would help for an altogether more convincing act tomorrow; dark circles, skittish movements and the whole bundle of nerves. In only a few hours she would have to slip out of bed, get dressed, and walk down into town to patiently wait for him to find her.

Draco had discovered from Harry that Ron was convinced they were still in the area. And though Voldemort no longer cared for their retrieval, clearly larger worries plagued him, Ron had been coming back to this area a couple times a day, searching. It terrified her to think he was stalking about outside, like a predator waiting for his prey to show up. But it was convenient. This was where they'd apparated, so if Hermione showed up here, it would have not seemed so inexplicable.

If he didn't kill her on sight, she was to lead him back to the cottage. Hermione was not to show it to him, and he wouldn't be able to see it himself. But he would be able to sense the charm hiding it. Again, helping her case. Hermione wasn't too worried about this part though, she was certain that Draco would be gone by then…

There was this uncanny mixture of simply becoming accustomed to the bizarre ritual between her and Draco, the snide remarks, the cruelty, the lies… and the sensation that something could be there still, even after all this time. The more seconds that passed the more everything she'd heard tonight had sunk it. Her heart would swell with joy, and just as quickly deflate once she recognized the reality. The world was punishing, only to offer her something she could never have. Even worse, Hermione was well aware that after today, she might never see Draco again. This morning might be their final goodbye. Either she would die before completing her task, or he would die doing whatever he planned to go on to now. There wasn't much hope for them, and she wasn't putting any stock in it. They were over before they had even begun, a so-so love. The only optimism flickering in her mind was that perhaps she would soon see Harry. If she lived past today, she could probably expect to see Harry tonight. For Ron's certain gloating at having discovered her meant he'd invite Harry over to revel about the whole thing.

A sick and pathetic part of her acknowledged that if Ron killed her immediately, things would end simply for everyone. There were many things worse than death, as she had come to know in her last fifteen years of life on Harry's left side. She'd seen people beg for death when faced with horrible alternatives, only Voldemort didn't seem to understand this as he continued to transcend and evade his demise. The rest of her time with Ron would certainly be miserable. In addition, if she would even think for a moment about what it had been like with Draco, then Hermione realized how foolish she had been. Draco had never been cruel, he had had fits of anger, and occasionally wounded her pride, but it had not been nasty or calculating, or real misery. Had she known what spitefulness was, she would have known long ago how lovely it was at the Malfoy Manor. For whatever was waiting for her from today, would be much more difficult to bear.

Hermione pushed the feelings down, trying to concentrate on her breathing and clear her mind. The longer she dwelled on everything the more apprehensive she'd become; it was a fatalistic trap she constantly fell into.

"You're nearer, than my head is to my pillow. Nearer than the wind is to the willow…" Hermione whispered melodically, a song from the radio earlier recurring in her mind.

She could hear him walking downstairs. It felt as though she'd barely closed her eyes. Outside it was still pitch black, and a depressing drizzle falling, unable to disperse the growing fog. Fitting weather for her mood. She starred groggily at the wall clock, waiting for her eyes to adjust. In fact, Hermione had barely closed her eyes. Forty-fives minutes to be exact; it was Draco who was up far earlier than compulsory.

Hermione swung her legs out of bed dejectedly; she wasn't going to sleep anymore anyway, so it was time to get on.

"Morning" Draco said, cautiously omitting the 'good'.

"Barely" Hermione sighed sitting down heavily on the couch.

"I couldn't sleep. That's my excuse, what's yours?"

"Same. I think I had a long blink," she said with a wry smile.

He tried to smile back, but it looked more like a misshapen grimace.

"What are you doing?" Hermione chuckled finally taking in the scene. He'd taken down three of the cabinet doors and was trying to screw another out.

Draco stared at her blankly; "Just making some repairs" It seemed more like 'making a mess' to Hermione. Likely he was trying to keep busy.

"Repairs?"

"Well, I was thinking about joining all of these together to make a large icebox"

"And a wand can't do that?"

"It can…" he muttered distractedly. Hermione was certain then that he was as absolutely terrified as she was. It had to be that bad if he'd gone to the lengths of muggle carpentry.

"This thing doesn't work," he said shaking the screwdriver angrily.

"Not sonic enough?"

"Ha. If that were the case, I'd go back in time and kill Voldemort the moment he landed in that orphanage, and maybe check if there are wizards on other planets, and maybe find time to figure out a character piece, like a scarf or hat…or cufflinks" Draco muttered bitterly.

"Yes, too bad it's make belief," Hermione added wistfully, there wasn't even a telly in this cottage, nothing to help escape into that safe pretend world where nobody died and nothing mattered.

"You could say the same thing about magic alright; to muggles it's nothing but a yarn. Even now, people just think Voldemort is another Hitler with intelligent weapons, they ignore the absolute facts before them" he explained.

"Even in these sinister times, when it seems so obvious"

"I always thought it was comical they called Dr. Who-less years 'the dark years'…guess Britain wasn't aware it could get darker" Draco chuckled dryly, righting the hinge. "Potter really let this place rot, but then again he doesn't spend any time here"

"And likely will not ever again after today" Hermione sighed.

Draco looked up at her in surprise; she looked away, facing the hearth. "The dark years…that's a good name for it. Better than, 'the years where everyone died'" Hermione pondered sadly.

"It seems very imprudent to ask. But are you prepared?" he asked dropping the screwdriver into the sink and changing the subject.

"As best as I'll ever be" she replied, trying to look confident with a smile.

Draco stared back at her, his face pallid and eyes bloodshot. He looked more worried than she even felt. But Hermione understood. It wasn't just a personal move for her; it was a tactical gain for the whole movement. If she managed to infiltrate Ron's home, and gain access to knowledge about Voldemort, it was almost unthinkable what there was to be gained for her team. She had almost lost sight of this in her egocentric worrying.

It was currently team Hermione, and she was the leader. It wouldn't be the first time she was being relied on as a last attempt. Ron and Harry had always looked to her last for help, being too stubborn to come to the conclusion they couldn't resolve whatever the issue of the week was. But back then; she had always been reliable Hermione. She knew everything, the walking encyclopedia. It was much simpler to spit out facts than to be conniving and implement rhetoric in order to seek out the desired result. That was what Draco excelled at; that was Harry's undeniable charisma. Hermione preferred to translate ancient runes. It was all too easy to see her failures, and how they could result in an even larger failure. There was so much more to lose this time, the pressure on everyone's shoulder infinitely greater.

No matter how 'certain' they all seemed, there was nothing certain about what could happen today. And that was frightening.

The coffee machine hissed, and began to percolate; outside the wind only seemed to be picking up. Hermione snapped out of her reverie.

"This weather" Draco mumbled from behind her.

"It's not a coincidence, is it?"

"I'm not certain, is anything a coincidence lately? If that's your logic, well, then this could very well be an omen"

"How are…you, and your body?" Hermione asked, the wording coming out strangely.

"Stiff, bruised, but alive…Thanks" he added as an afterthought.

"You're welcome"

"I tried removing some of these bruises on my face, but I'm not as skilled as you" he grimaced taking out mugs.

Hermione noted that the black and blue on his face had become predominantly more yellow and green. "Well, you can go about it the muggle way and just wait for them to go away. Are you ever going to tell me what you did to deserve that beating?"

"I don't think it will make you like me more. So no" he replied pouring out the steaming coffee.

"Fair enough, but it may no longer be relevant. There's only so much time left, so much to say" Hermione shrugged, turning back around to look out the window. It was five in the morning, but outside it was impossible to tell the time. This far north, the sun should have begun to rise, but the clouds impeded it.

"Here" he said, handing her a mug avoiding eye contact. Hermione took it gingerly, the coffee sloshing about inside.

He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, his own mug in hand. He was thinking so frantically; she could practically hear the gears in his head whirring. "Don't worry," she said.

"You're being preposterous, it's virtually an impossibility for me to not be worried" Draco frowned.

"I'm sure thing will work out fine" Hermione soothed.

"In a matter of hours you become miss optimism? What exactly is fine for you Hermione? No matter which way you look at this nothing is fine, and nothing will turn out fine…things can only get worse. So unless 'fine' is code for 'bloody awful', things are not going to be 'fine'"

"Like you said, nobody was forcing me to do it. If I didn't want to, I probably wouldn't have agreed to this scheme. However frightened, or alarmed I am by the possible outcomes, I know it's better than not trying at all. Besides, even if it goes awry, I wouldn't be the first nor the last person to lose their life in this fight. I'm no different than any of other people out there who lost their lives to the deatheaters. The only thing that makes me who I am, are the choices I make"

"You're different to me," Draco said bitterly, "and to Potter" he added.

"To you? Maybe, but still doubtful" Hermione smiled, "But for Harry, I'm no more special than anybody else. When you are the most extraordinary person in the world, it's difficult to suppose anybody else could be as extraordinary as you. And it's not Harry's fault. Nor is he wrong to think that way, it's true, he is the most important person in the world…and the rest of us are here to support him"

"That's a atrocious way of looking at it"

"That doesn't make it less true"

"I think that's bollocks. Damned what Potter thinks, he's got his head so far up his arse he can't even see what happening around him. Do you think he knows how far deep he's in?" Draco asked coldly. "Do you think he realizes what it's going to be like for him now that I'm not there to explain everything, to defend him, to paint a faultless picture of credibility for him to the other deatheaters? He's as doomed as the rest of us Hermione. If anybody is imperative, it's you"

Hermione pursed her lips; she hadn't realized that Harry was in quite a serious predicament. It was obvious he was alone in there…but it did make Hermione wonder why Harry was even alive. He had talent, but no more talent than she did. He was courageous, but what use was that courage on the other side. So, why was Voldemort keeping him alive at his side and for how much longer?

"You're the only one who can turn this around now. I don't think I could possibly put any more pressure on you, but I don't want you to be misled about this. Potter is wetting his pants in present company, they suspect him due to his connection with me, and he's got not sway at all now. He needs you as much as we all do"

"Hmm, that was a very inspirational and terrifying speech" Hermione mused, sipping her coffee.

"I'm just telling you, if you think you're alone from now on. Then yes, you're really alone, Potter can't help you. Only you can help yourself, so you need to be conscious of every single decision you make. There's no net for you, one slip and you're dead"

"Of course"

The wet grass under her feet sank beneath her. The leaves had composed into brown smelly mulch; the whole area seemed to have that decaying smell. It made her stomach churn nervously.

"Here?" she asked looking around guardedly.

"As good a place as any"

"And you're sure he'll come this way?" Hermione fretted wringing her hands in her shirt. It was cold, and she didn't even have a jacket. But it had to look at least slightly realistic; after all, she had been abandoned. Why would she have a proper jacket?

"Quite, wish I wasn't" Draco frowned rubbing his face.

"How long then?"

"Half an hour, at most"

Hermione turned on the spot, exhaling and took in her surroundings. It was a lightly wooded area, just left of the hamlet, a perfect spot for stealthy apparition, and exactly where Draco and Harry hypothesized he would show up. Her heart was beating like a hammer, causing her whole body to throb with pain. She was terrified beyond any fear she'd felt before. It was taking all her strength to not become a babbling mess right now.

"Wish I could say 'don't worry' as easily as you did" Draco grimaced leaning against a tree. Trying to look composed, but it wasn't convincing in the least. His pale face was completely strained, and it made Hermione feel more ill at ease to see him so worried. It made her think she still didn't realize how dangerous this was, which was impossible, for the danger was apparent. And that was alarming.

"You can say it. It may not be appropriate advice, but you can say it" Hermione swallowed, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans. She was aware of the time slipping.

"Hermione"

"Yes?" she exhaled expectantly.

"I…good luck"

Hermione frowned in disappointment, but she was relieved, "Yeah…thank you"

"Let's not complicate this, so, let's just say goodbye"

"It's already complicated" she laughed, the sound hollow and artificial. Like a small bell. "What don't you want to complicate? It's too late; it's been too late since…forever. This was all part of the grand plan right. But it's turning back on you"

"Yeah, I suppose so" he admitted sadly.

"Well, life isn't fair I guess. So perhaps for your sake we should make this simple. After all, you are worried that if I die it will make it harder for you. It won't" Hermione assured him "You'll see that eventually. But, if I survive, I'll see you again" she grinned extending her hand. "Think of it that way, if we both survive this…I'll take you out on a date"

"A date? Seems silly to think about that now. Seems impossible really" he grimaced taking her hand. "If you…don't make it…"

"I know, it's the end right? Last hope Hermione…isn't it the case" Hermione interjected.

She looked him up and down, her chest tight and itchy. "Farewell for now" Hermione sighed giving in to her better senses and wrapping her arms around his neck. She pulled her lips tight across her teeth, squeezing her eyes tight. She could feel his arms bound tightly around her back. After ten seconds Hermione pulled away quickly, keeping her eyes directed to the ground. Quick and clean, like cutting the cord.

"You better get going, can't have you here when he arrives. And don't wait around to see what happens, it won't help if he realizes you're nearby, you need to leave"

She heard him exhale deeply, "Of course. Best of luck" he grabbed her hand tightly, "don't' do anything rash, just please try and stay alive"

Hermione kept staring at the ground in silence; he dropped her hand. She heard him begin to walk away, and then a loud crack, Draco was gone. Her legs shook under her and Hermione crashed to the forest floor. Her breath came out in wet ragged sobs, but the sound felt detached from her actions. She could barely see from behind the streams flowing out of her eyes.

Lifting her eyes, Hermione was greeting with nothing but cold, half dead nature. He was gone, Draco had left, and now she was waiting for someone else. She wiped the tears from her eyes, but they were quickly replaced with fresh ones. As hard as she tried to compose herself, her emotions were not having it. Her heart wanted to be broken, and it was taking its veto over her good sense now.

The bizarre wet hiccups kept slipping past her lips, and the more Hermione tried to keep them in, the more erratic and louder they became. It was useless trying to stop the outpour.

Something snapped behind her. Hermione could not turn, but began to sob louder knowing what was coming. It shocked her to think how composed she had been in front of him. And a part of her hated herself for that. Why couldn't she show Draco how painful it was? Pathetic, and yet Hermione did not care. She deserved to cry as much as anybody else. All the tears she had kept inside until now, everything she had been through, all slipping past the barriers now at the worst moment possible.

Another rustle. Her lips clamped shut. There it was, the fear was overtaking the emotional mess she became. Hermione strained her ears to hear if there was somebody around, it was just as possible she had imagined the sound before due to her loudness. The wind picked up, causing leaves to crackled and fly around her. It was dim about her, the black sky, and tall tree's casting a murky brow light.

"Hermione?"

Her skin erupted in a long drawn shiver. Not her imagination. Not at all.

"Is that you?"

Panic began to rise from her feet to her head like a warm rush, the threat of fainting becoming very real. This was it, now or never. Play the part, just the same as always before. "We'll be fine…just fine," she whispered to herself and turned around, pretending to be shocked.