Final chapter finally finished, thank you so much for the reviews; it really helped with the writer's block!

Hermione awoke feeling sick on the day of the Third Task. She had been sleeping less lately, balancing her time between exams, training, and Draco. She scrubbed her face in the sink, evaluated today's acne situation, and left with an exasperated roll of her eyes. What did it matter anyway? Just get through today and you'll be able to relax. Harry's not going to die in this tournament.

She and the boys made their way down to the Great Hall, her and Ron both trying to reassure Harry somewhat pointlessly. Who knew what would be in the maze? Even Dumbledore had said how dangerous it was. And didn't Harry's participation prove how ineffectual the Ministry's precautions were?

She didn't mention any of that.

All she thought about as she picked at her toast was getting through today with everyone in tact. Harry would be fine, he had to be. She reached across the table and hesitantly placed a hand on his. He smiled uneasily, "Honestly, Hermione, I'll be fine. Don't worry."

She rolled her eyes, "That's likely."

"S' true Harry," Ron cut in, "Last night I watched her tear up over a Charms essay. Mental with worry. In a good way," he added hastily at the look she was giving him.

"All I'm saying is...this isn't just some Quidditch match. You could die," she said.

"I almost die at least once a year from Quidditch," he shrugged, not quite pulling it off as casually as he probably intended. "Only difference is I'm on the ground. I wonder if I'd do better if I summoned my broom," he rubbed his chin. Harry had no facial hair whatsoever, a fact Ronald loved. Ron had been sporting a red patch of stubble on his chin proudly for months, and would probably start grooming it when it got long enough. Give it another six months, Hermione thought with a concealed snicker.

She tried the rest of the day to stay calm and not show Harry how worried she was. She didn't think she'd managed it very well, and as she climbed the bleachers with Ron she nibbled furiously on her nubbed fingernails, anxious for the time a few hours from now when they could put the whole tournament behind them. Maybe Harry even stood a chance of winning. If he didn't die.

. . . . . . . . . .

Draco stretched awake at the sound of his roommates' laughter. He didn't mind being woken like he usually did; thanks to Hermione he was sleeping so much better. "What's so funny boys?" he asked in a hearty voice. Time to play Mr. Rich and Popular and Friendly.

Greg held up something small that glinted in the firelight and guffawed, "Something from your mommy, Draco?"

Draco's face fell and turned ashen, "What's that? Give it here!" he commanded. Greg tossed it over and him and Vincent had to hold each other with their laughter. He turned the object over in his hand. It was a watch. A wizards watch, with five hands and a lunar calandar on the rim, and runes in place of numbers. Draco couldn't read runes, but it was fairly easy to distinguish the numbers. His heart swelled. His mom had sent him a watch? After all the embarrassment and arguing with father, she had done it anyway?

"H-Here, Ickle Drakikins," Vince choked between chortles.

It was a note, once folded nicely on fresh parchment before being manged by his friends' sweaty mits. You're more than man enough, I think, my fallen angel.

Hermione. His faced pinked, then reddened. His friends had read that. They thought it was from his mother. And he...couldn't correct them. Then again, Draco was rather stating to feel like Hermione could replace every other person on Earth and he would be just fine with it. What a wonderful girl. He left the room under a guise of anger so that they couldn't see the tears forming in his affectionate eyes as he fastened the watch on his wrist. That settled it. He was going public, and it was going to be tonight. Friends be damned.

Hours later, he made his way up the stands of the familiar Quidditch field, destroyed by hedges for tonight. The audience had a good enough view to see what was going on in the maze, provided the champion wasn't too close to one side. In the center, clearly and shining for everyone except the four inside, was a glowing blue goblet. It had been explained that whoever reached it first would be champion. A pretty poor way to judge magical skill, Draco thought.

He watched with anticipation as Cedric and Potter ran towards the goblet. How predictable that they would save each other. But at least, he mused, it was twice the honor for Hogwarts, and surely it said something about their students. Maybe Durmstrang wasn't so great. But his real trepidation lay with the spectacle he was planning after the match. He would march right up to that beautiful freckled face and kiss her until everyone was watching. Until they sent in a news crew: Man kisses girlfriend so long he passes out, breaks world record.

The two boys were reaching their hands out now. What would Pansy think when she learned he wasn't gay? The crowd was screaming; they each grabbed a handle.

Silence.

They were gone. Disappeared. What the hell?

After a few minutes, the Minister came out, tried to say something comforting that no one listened to. The teachers were starting to evacuate students. Draco's stomach sank. This couldn't be good; this was somehow related to him, the Dark Lord. He could feel it. He stood and inched his way among the crowd to the Gryffindor students, not bothering with his friends' objections. Amos Diggory was pushing his way to the front.

And then pop.

Two figures landed on the ground. Chaos erupted. Draco couldn't tell what was going on but the words spread around him like a hissing fire. Dead. Diggory's dead. You-Know-Who is back.

He sank to his knees and let himself get jostled by the crowd.

. . . . . . . . . .

Are you awake? he wrote.

Of course.

It's 3 am.

He's back. I don't know if I'll ever sleep again. And Harry...I can't do anything to console him. I can't console myself.

Meet me in ten minutes.

The bathroom was dark and scary this late at night; it reminded him of the Manor's unoccupied rooms. He supposed the world would be dark and scary now and he might as well get used to it. Still, he cast a Lumos.

The door clicked. Hermione entered. Her hair was flat on one side from lying down, her eyes bloodshot and her robe clasped tight around her neck, like she thought she could keep the Death Eaters out if they didn't see her bare flesh.

Draco couldn't take it. He buckled to the ground, yet again, and sobbed. She stooped nect to him, placing ahand on his knee. "Draco," she whispered, " It will be okay. Eventually. We can beat him. We can protect you and your family. We have to fight." Her voice was steely and rigid, like she knew what she would soon be forced to endure. It wasn't comforting.

"Hermione," he croaked, "This is over."

She faltered, "What?"

"I can't...I can't ever see you again. It's too dangerous," he looked up at her shining brown eyes, "They'll kill you."

"I-Draco, I can defend myself."

He choked out a mirthless laugh. "Defend yourself? From the Killing Curse, from Crucio, from an army of Death Eaters?"

"We'll have an army, too," she said defiantly.

"Not like his. Trust me. Darling, please, I want nothing more than to be with you forever but...he's back." He paused, shaking with sobs, "Voldemort's back. And if I were near you, you would be dead. Or worse." His aunt's laughter rang in his ears.

"No," her voice wavered. A tear rolled down her face and on to his lap. He gathered her in his arms, but she squirmed uncomfortably. She looked down and sighed. "I knew what this meant as soon as I saw Cedric come back from that graveyard. I knew...I knew we would have to stop. I want you to know it's," she hiccuped, "It's been the best year of my short life, with you, dear. And so I...wanted to share something with you. So that when we're off, on opposite sides of this inevitable battle, you'll remember me. And maybe it'll save you inside. And maybe it'll save me, too."

He didn't really understand what she was saying, she always was much smarter than him. But what she did next took the thought away, for that night anyway. He realized that that night was to be one of goodbye, and sweet togetherness. She guided his hand beneath her tightly drawn robe onto her side. Her bare side. He surveyed quickly upward and downward. Nothing. Bloody fucking hell. She unclasped her robe and Hermione Granger stood, or rather sat, naked in front of him.

He felt his mouth open, felt his eyes widen, trying to take in as much as he could. Her round hips, her pale thighs contrasted with her tan arms. She was unshaven, but he didn't care. He knew she was never one for beauty regimes anyways. She was- "Stunning" he managed. She was bright red, and he was shaking all over.

"I don't know what to do after this part," she whispered.

He leaned toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and kissed beneath her ear. "Nor do I," he breathed.

And then they were kissing, and his shirt was being unbuttoned, and he was hardly aware of the racket they were making in their awkwardness, and he must've asked a hundred times if she was comfortable. He hastened away as she cried out when it finally went in, "No no, come back," she urged. "It's okay." And slowly, they worked it out. It was not smooth, not finessed, not polished, but it was more sensational than anything Draco could have imagined, Her breathing excited him, and he gained fervor as her pain subsided into pleasure. He watched her lovingly beneath him, and for a short point on top of him, and felt entirely content. Nothing could be wrong in a world that Hermione Granger existed in. Look at her. My god.

Too soon, it was over. He wondered fearfully if maybe it was too too soon. But his darling Hermione settled in next to him and told him she loved him and they cried together, for the last time. They cried for the beauty of what they had done, and the love they had found, and the separation they would now have to bear. They cried for those, possibly themselves included, who would soon die at the hands of the Dark Lord, and for the children and the parents of the dark future, and for Cedric Diggory. They cried without words, for the loss of all innocence; wrested from them too soon by the evil forces which had risen from bone, flesh, and blood to become Death itself.

Ahh thank you so much for reading and especially for reviewing. I am planning a sequel so be sure to check in on my profile! Any and all comments are welcome!