November 1998

Sharp rays of sunlight pierced through the thick canopy above the Forbidden Forest.

In the heart of winter, frost coated the grass and icicles clung to thin branches overhead. Through the low light filtering in through the leaves, Draco could see his breath cloud in the air with each exhale, and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders to ward off the chill as he approached a clearing where a band of centaurs gathered.

"Hello, gentleman." At the sound of his voice, the circle of centaurs tightened, and he could just barely make out the little witch in the centre.

She stood with her head high, chin stuck out proudly, though it was clear in the way her body trembled that she was afraid.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me." The two centaurs closest to Draco shifted, allowing him a better view of Hermione. Twigs were caught in her hair, her feet were bare, and no cloak covered her shoulders.

The one that Draco recognised as the leader stepped forward into the circle, stopping just behind Hermione, one of his hands reaching around her to stroke the side of her face with the backs of his knuckles. She flinched at the touch, and he could see the tension in her jaw from where he stood as she restrained herself from lashing out.

"You shouldn't let your pet off her leash. It's dangerous out here for a sweet little witch all alone." The centaur spoke in silky tones that turned Draco's stomach. Resisting the urge to slice the creature into ribbons, he made his stance casual, twirling his wand between his fingers as he waited for them to release her, saying, "My apologies. It won't happen again."

There was no point in angering the herd; they had no skin in the game, preferring to leave the humans to their petty in-fighting unless it suited them to interact.

With one last brush down Hermione's jaw, the leader planted his palm between her shoulder blades, and she stumbled forward.

Draco couldn't breathe as his hand wrapped around her upper arm, skin to skin, pulling her to him with a callousness he would make up to her later, not with words but with reverent touch on her soft skin as he worshipped her.

With careful indifference, he pulled her with him back the way he came, only stopping when they reached the edge of the forest, out of range of the centaurs but still shrouded in shadow and not yet visible to the ever-watchful eyes inhabiting the castle.

"Hermione. Did they—" He choked on the words.

"No. You found me just after Crabbe and Goyle fled." Suddenly he could breathe again, air rushing out of him on a sharp exhale.

"Crabbe and Goyle?"

"You left me." Though her voice was tremulous, it held a sharp bite of anger there as she yanked herself free of his grip, spinning to face him.

"You left me, and they—" Her voice broke, and it sliced through his heart like razor wire. "They did this. Dragged me outside and chased me through the forest."

His eyes fell closed at the thought, and he breathed slowly in through his nose and out his mouth as he tried to control his rage.

With an unspoken pointing of his wand, he banished the cold from her body, her skin turning pink under the spell as it warmed her from the inside out.

"Why?"

With another wave of his wand, her feet were encased in obnoxiously fluffy socks, inconspicuous enough that they wouldn't draw much attention but would protect her from the cold. He wasn't sure if he could get away with wrapping his cloak around her without some idiot making a fuss about it, but that didn't really matter because she was cold and it was his job to make sure she was taken care of, happy, and healthy, or as happy and healthy one could be in the twisted hellscape their world had become. His heritage made it a biological imperative to keep her safe from harm.

Veelas mate for life.

He remembered his mother's words from so long ago, before he understood what she meant, before he'd ever met the girl who'd turned his world upside down.

As he draped his cloak over Hermione's shoulders, her hands came up to grab either side of the fabric, pulling it closed around her small frame. "Said they were bored. Without my wand, I couldn't—I couldn't fight back."

He would kill them, rend them limb from limb and watch their blood spill over the stone floor of Hogwarts. It was less than an hour that he was gone, out on some errand he'd been given. He'd thought she would be safe where he left her, but clearly he was wrong. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Slowly, they ascended the steps that led to the castle; it loomed large against the pale sky, now a nightmare that had once been a haven.

The death of Voldemort at the hands of Harry Potter had not ended the war; his followers had merely gotten a taste of power and wanted more. Dumbledore's crown jewel had been taken like a trophy, the school falling into little more than organised chaos. The Carrows reigned, hand-selecting professors to replace the dissenters they'd killed or imprisoned. The students of pure blood were given free rein and allowed to continue their education, and parts of the castle were used as headquarters for the bizarre organization the former Death Eaters had morphed into.

The control of the Ministry still sat in their hands; there was nothing this new regime couldn't accomplish with the government at their beck and call.

They'd lost Harry Potter as the Order of the Phoenix had squirrelled him away immediately following the final battle, but in the melee, they'd left behind the saviour's Muggle-born witch.

When Hermione was captured and Greyback's disgusting claws had curled around the back of her neck, Draco had needed to think fast, and so he bargained, approaching it as if he wanted some sort of twisted revenge on the girl. It was the only way to make his request to have her believable.

To his great shock and immense relief, they'd given her to him like she was nothing more than an object to use and abuse at his leisure.

The idea nauseated him, and as he'd caught her when they shoved her at his feet, he'd fought to keep himself from being sick all over the floor.

She was it for him, the beginning and the end, his entire world. Hermione held his beating heart in her hand and the fools around them never knew, unable to look past their own hatred to see that it was all an act, and they'd played right into his hand.

They'd given him his mate.

He'd first changed in his sixth year, gaining talons he could conjure from his fingers at will and massive wings that sprang from his back.

Hermione was the only soul who knew. She'd come upon him in the early hours of dawn in an abandoned classroom, fighting his first transition, and stayed with him until daybreak, conjuring a handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his brow.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why, but he was not immune to her kindness, and slowly, they learned each other until he knew every freckle on her skin, knew the deepest, darkest secrets she kept locked away. In return, he gave her all of him, even the parts that were broken and tainted.

And when they'd been forced apart, his soul had ached every day that she was gone from him.

Seeing her at the final battle had been a gift, despite the horror happening around them.

They reached the castle, and Draco shook himself from his wandering thoughts as he nodded at the guard on duty, some craggy-faced wizard with a scar across his jaw.

When they finally passed the threshold, he lengthened his stride, not registering that he still had his hand wrapped around Hermione's arm as she struggled to keep up, only slowing when they made it to the stairs and he could breathe a little easier, unlikely to run into anyone else at that point. With a sharp left, they reached his quarters, the heavy wooden door shutting behind them as he locked the handle and erected wards.

Only when he was sure they were secure did he turn to face his witch, opening his arms to her when she blinked up at him, fighting to keep tears from falling. She hated to cry, said that it was weak, but here with him, she could be vulnerable. He could give her comfort, listen to her, bear her burdens. It was the least he could do after dragging her into this world where she had no real autonomy. It didn't matter that he'd done it to protect her; Draco had turned her life inside out, and he felt the weight of that guilt each and every day.

The turmoil on her face as he pulled her close enriched the already creative plans he had for the wizards stupid enough to have dared to mess with her.

They stood there for a while as he stroked her hair and cooed nonsensical promises to soothe her. "It's okay. It'll be okay." The feel of her in his arms was like a salve to the gaping wound in his heart that reopened whenever he was away from her. "I've got you, sweetheart."

There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, and one day he'd take her away, somewhere far from this mess to a place where no one could touch them, not anymore.

Somewhere they could be whole and safe and at peace…

Together.

A/N: To my very first fandom friend, felgia_starr. Thank you for making my jump into the deep end a little less frightening. I hope you enjoy this story! It's going to be expanded on because I have no self-control. Whoops. 3

So much love and thanks to my beta and alpha for this piece, ravenslight and QuinTalon