Draco heard her before he saw her, the click of heel against hardwood floor causing a coldness to trickle down his spine.

Bellatrix Lestrange. The aunt he'd feared from as far back as he could remember. Just the idea that the girl he loved was shrouded in such evil was beyond his comprehension.

His eyes closed automatically as the kitchen door slowly creaked open, terrified to look at her.

"Ugh! She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots!"

He could have wept with relief at the sound of Hermione's voice. It was her, it was really her, and if he could just hold on to that fact, then maybe he could do this.

Slowly lifting his head, he turned towards her voice, trying to ignore the hate burning in his stomach upon the sight of his aunt.

"Draco," Hermione's voice spoke from her lips, her hooded eyes studying him carefully. "Are you okay?"

He tensed his jaw, trying not to flinch his eyes away from her. He would look at her as he spoke to her because this was Hermione Granger and she deserved his respect, especially after what she was willing to put herself through to win this war.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he pointedly spoke her name. "But I'll be better once this is over."

"You'll be waiting a long time for all this to be over," Potter muttered darkly as he entered the kitchen behind her, not even acknowledging Hermione's new look. "The best we can hope for today is a tomorrow."

Draco was about to roll his eyes, Potters usual melodramatics irking him. But then Bellatrix moved towards him and he found his blood running cold as she reached into her pocket for her wand.

"Come here, Draco, so I can do you."

Her voice reminded him who she really was, and he let out a long breath, silently berating himself for being such a big pussy.

"Any preference?" Hermione asked, idly twirling the wand in her hand.

Draco shrugged, feeling intensely uncomfortable under Bellatrix's gaze. "Just get it over with."

He shut his eyes again as she closed the space between them, trying not to shudder. She hummed as she worked, and he liked it, picturing his girlfriend instead of his aunt.

"There," she stated, standing proudly back. "Go and have a look and see what you think."

He hastily moved past her without looking at her, and went out into the hallway where Weasley was hogging the mirror, preening a freshly grown beard.

He didn't seem to notice Draco at first, but when he caught his reflection over his shoulder, Weasley froze, and Draco could have sworn he saw a flash of anger in his eyes.

"Oh, she would, wouldn't she?" Weasley muttered, his lip curling into a sneer. "No doubt it's to piss me off."

Huffing, Weasley moved away from the mirror and stomped down the hallway to the front door, slamming it loudly behind him. Shrugging, Draco took his spot in front of the mirror, curious as to what had got Weasley's goat.

And then he understood. For Hermione had transfigured his features into something that made him look remarkably like a certain Bulgarian.

"Krum? Really?!" Draco spat once they all gathered outside, waiting for Potter to take one last piss for the road.

"Not Krum, no," Hermione said airily, flicking back Bellatrix's mane of curls over her shoulder. "I just used certain features."

Like tanned skin, black hair and a large nose. Draco didn't know whether to be insulted or not.

Half an hour later, Potter 'I can't pee when I'm nervous' finally joined them, already piggybacking the goblin.

His heart was in his throat when they Apparated outside the Leaky Cauldron, realising Hermione was going to have to act her socks off. As much as he loved her, Draco had to admit that acting was most certainly not her forte, and she was a terrible liar.

"Remember what I told you, she doesn't smile, she sneers," he hissed in her ear as they stepped inside the pub, the few punters seated at the bar falling quiet upon their arrival.

"I guess that must be a family trait," she said, quickly transforming her bright smile into an unconvincing sneer.

"Madam Lestrange," Tom, the stooped and toothless landlord, murmured as he polished a glass with a filthy looking rag.

"Good morning, Tom!" Hermione trilled, evidently forgetting almost at once who she was meant to be. "Don't mind us, we're just passing through."

Tom's mouth hung open in surprise and Draco pressed a hand against the small of Hermione's back, quickly hurrying her along.

"What the fuck was that, Hermione?!" Potter spluttered when they reached the safety of the tiny backyard. "Since when did Bellatrix become so fucking polite?! We may as well forget this whole thing if you can't treat people like they're scum!"

"Don't you fucking talk to her like that," Draco snarled, jabbing a long finger towards where he assumed Potter was standing, "Hermione's doing you a huge favour here. It's alright for you, safely hidden beneath that cloak, but we're out here under watchful eyes in the firing line. And believe me, the second I feel like you're endangering her life, I'm Disapparating her the fuck out of here, got it?"

He heard Potter sniff and mutter something about not being able to Apparate in and out of Gringotts. But Draco didn't care, he would use an Unforgivable Curse if it came to it. Anything to keep Hermione safe.

As soon as they stepped onto Diagon Alley, everyone cowered away from the intimidating sight of Bellatrix, some even yelping and scurrying to hide in shops.

"Blimey," Weasley breathed, giving a low whistle, "the power you've got, Hermione."

"Come on," Draco muttered stiffly, anxious to get to Gringotts without fanfare.

He and Weasley stayed firmly on either side of Hermione with Harry and Griphook following beneath the cloak behind them.

However, they hadn't even gotten halfway down the cobbled street when a loud bellow halted them in their tracks.

"Why, Madam Lestrange!"

They all whirled round, and Draco froze at the sight of the tall, thin wizard with bushy, grey hair striding towards them.

"Shit, it's Travers," he hurriedly hissed into Hermione's ear. "He's a Death Eater and one of the few who aren't afraid of standing up to you- I mean Bellatrix. Stay calm and say as little as possible."

He could hear her shallow, frightened breaths as she gave a brief, fearful nod, and he wanted to add that he wasn't going to let Travers hurt her, that his wand was at the ready and he'd use it if necessary.

But Travers was already too close, his face knitted in curiosity as his eyes slid over Bellatrix's two strange looking companions.

"Travers," Hermione said at once, a small tremor in her voice which Draco prayed wouldn't give her away. "How are you?"

"Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix."

"Really? Why?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Travers coughed, "I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the... ah... escape."

Draco willed Hermione to keep her head. If this was true and Bellatrix was not supposed to be out in public-

"The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past," Hermione said with a lot more confidence. "Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers."

"But not only did Harry Potter escape under your watch, rumour has it that your nephew helped to rescue a Mudblood?"

Draco felt Hermione freeze for a brief second before she drew herself up to her fullest height, and said, with as much contempt as she could muster, "Draco is no nephew of mine."

Travers seemed a little taken aback at that, and his eyes once again roamed over the two male companions, his expression curious.

"Who are your friends? I do not recognise them."

"This is Dragomir Despard," Hermione said, gesturing to Weasley on her right. "He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims. He has travelled here from Transylvania with his Bulgarian common-law husband, Boris Banov."

Her hand swept out in front of Draco, who tried not to look too horrified at being married off to a Weasley.

"Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir? Boris?" Travers nodded to them in turn. "I hope you both find our country accommodating to your... ah... needs. We may be a bit behind the times here in good old Blighty, but I, for one, am a firm believer in free love. Well... except for where those filthy Mudbloods are concerned, of course. Burn them all at the stake, I say."

Draco felt a wave of anger rip through his stomach, wanting to punch Travers right in his ignorant face.

Hermione, however, kept her cool and nodded along. "Indeed, the world would be a much better place without them. Well, we mustn't keep you, Travers. Dragomir and Boris are awfully tired and I promised to help them land the honeymoon suite in the Leaky Cauldron as soon as we've sorted out boring bank stuff. Rumour has it that Tom's installed a hot tub right there next to the bed."

Travers shook his head, his eyes glazing over in wonderment. "A hot tub next to the bed? What is the world coming to, eh?"

To Draco's relief, Travers bade his farewells and moved along his way, leaving the five of them to let go of their breaths.

"That was too close," Griphook's sinister voice gritted from beneath the cloak. "You'll need to up your game, girl, if you want to fool the goblins. We're not stupid like you wizards."

"I'll give him stupid," Weasley muttered, narrowing his eyes as he tangled a finger in his long ginger beard, getting it stuck.

Draco ushered them onwards, keen to get this over with. As much as he loathed to admit it, Griphook had been right about one thing, goblins weren't stupid.

Once they reached Gringrotts, Draco's heart was in his throat. It would be down to Hermione to do all the talking and he felt fearful that she wouldn't pull it off.

And she tried her best, she really did, but Hermione just didn't have it in her to imitate such an evil bitch, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but when it had the potential to get you killed, it made Draco nervous.

When it was clear the goblins suspected them, Draco had his hand on his wand, already reaching out to grab Hermione. But then, out of nowhere, he heard Potter whisper the Imperius Curse, and just like that he'd manipulated the goblin into leading them to Bellatrix's vault.

Draco felt mildly impressed. It wasn't easy to use an Unforgivable Curse, and yet here was Potter, casting it as casually as he would cast the Disarming spell.

And it would have all been plain sailing if it wasn't for one thing.

"The Theif's Downfall!" Griphook roared as they were soaked beneath a waterfall and the cart tipped them all out.

Thanks to Hermione's quick thinking, she cast a Cushioning Charm, saving them all from going splat on the floor of the bank's underground tunnels.

Upon seeing her returned back to herself, Draco immediately picked himself up and crawled across to Hermione, pulling her into his arms and not caring one jot about their audience.

"Fuck, Hermione," he murmured, ardently peppering kisses over her face. "You don't know how glad I am to see you again."

"I never went away," she breathed, reaching up to dance her fingers tentatively against his cheek, her hazel eyes burning adoringly into his.

"Pack it up, Jack and Rose," Potter muttered as he untangled himself from his cloak, "in case you haven't noticed, there's a great big fire breathing dragon about to burn us all alive."

He wasn't wrong, but as usual, Potter managed to evade death and miraculously get the Horcrux from Bellatrix's vault, flying them all off on said dragon to freedom.

"How does the bastard do it?" Draco shouted over the roar of the wind as they all clung onto the dragon's scaly back for dear life.

"Potter luck, I suppose," Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "Apparently it skips a gene."

Draco could only pray that the Potter luck had not yet run out, especially when the dragon dumped them all in a lake and Potter declared that it was time to go to the final hiding place.

Hogwarts.

******