“You're back,” she said, so relieved she felt her knees might give out. He was there, he was still alive, he appeared uninjured.
She reached towards him. Her hands were shaking as she grasped his robes and touched his face.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She gave a short nod as she rested her head against his chest.
“What's wrong?”
She closed her eyes for several seconds and listened to his heart, just feeling him: alive.
“Nothing. I'm just so tired. I feel like I forgot to breathe until now.”
He was still for a moment before he gave a low sigh. His hands hesitated before he rested them on her shoulders.
Her stomach dropped, and she opened her eyes. “What's wrong?”
Draco was silent. His fingers twitched. “My father — he's being recalled to Britain.”
Hermione's heart stalled as she looked up at him.
His expression was closed. Resigned. “He'll expect my company when we're both off duty.”
“Oh.”
She didn't know what else to say. She stared up at him, and he looked away from her, but his hands remained on her shoulders.
She grasped for words. “Of course, you should spend time with your father.”
He gave a sharp laugh.
“Hardly. My father, he—” Draco hesitated, and his gaze dropped to the floor. There was a trace of boyishness in his tone. “—well, he blamed me for my mother's fragile health.” His expression was closed, but his eyes flickered. “He always said he expected me to be an exceptional heir to make up for — nearly killing her.”
“Draco—”
He jerked slightly and cleared his throat, his tone becoming clipped again. “Suffice to say, I'll have little availability — to anyone — for the foreseeable future. It may take me longer to complete assignments. If you can inform Moody, I hope he'll take it into account.”
Not available. Not to the Order. Not her.
She felt so tired she could barely stand, but she nodded and drew herself up. “Of course. Don't worry. I'm sorry. You'll be back in the manor then, won't you?”
He gave a short nod.
She caught his hands and ran her fingers along them, checking for any tremors. She needed to make sure he was alright. If she didn't know when she'd see him again, she had to know he was alright. “When will he arrive?”
“Tomorrow or the day after. I found out when I reported back.” His voice was dull.
Her mouth twitched, and she focused on his hands. “I'm sorry. Maybe — it won't be for long.”
“It's possible. He doesn't like to stay in Britain.”
He drew a sharp breath, and his jaw twitched as he watched her check his fingers, again and again. “I suspect there's something coming. Tell Moody. It was mentioned to me that the Dark Lord has gone to Sussex personally several times while I was gone. Whatever it is he's doing, he isn't confiding to anyone currently, except perhaps Dolohov. It — could be related to my father's unexpected return.”
Hermione nodded. “I'll tell Moody. I think — the Order is preparing to make a move on Hogwarts.”
“It would be a relief if they did something. Things have been suspiciously quiet lately.” There was an unspoken question in his tone.
Hermione avoided his eyes. “Losing Kingsley was a blow. It's affected morale.” She kept looking at his hands.
“They have been suspiciously quiet for me too. Are there concerns about my morale?” Draco's tone was light but with a razor edge hidden in it.
Hermione looked up. “No. I haven't told Moody about your threat, if that's what you're asking.”
Draco's eyes flickered. She saw him doubt her.
The corner of her mouth twitched, and she let go of his hand and stepped back.
“After Kingsley died, I told Moody that he and Kingsley had been over-utilising you just to buy time without any broader strategy, and I wasn't going to stand by and watch it anymore.” She shrugged. “I'm more crucial now — without Kingsley, Moody needs my support to maintain all the classified aspects within the Order.” She gave him a small smile. “I can protect you now.”
Draco's lips pressed together into a hard, flat line, and his expression grew cold and closed.
“I don't want you inserting yourself to protect me, Granger.” His tone was like ice.
She stiffened and there was a sharp stab of hurt that laced through her. “Why not? Is protection exclusively your right? Am I supposed to just sit quietly in the safe houses while you win the war for me?” She jerked her chin up. “I'm not running raids. I'm still carefully cag—”
Draco flinched before she could cut herself off.
She dropped her head and drew a sharp breath, curling her fingers into a fist as she looked away from him. “I'm sorry. That — I didn't mean that. I don't see it that way.”
Lie.
She sighed and looked away from him. “I'm not leaving the safe houses. I'm just coordinating more of the classified details within the Order, which means I have more leverage now than I did before. That's all. I'm not — endangering myself.”
She stopped speaking and stared at Draco. His expression was guarded.
The air hung around them, cold; as though their ghosts surrounded them. They were both drenched in the dead.