The screeching and clanking of the tracks made Hermione relatively uneasy. And the swinging and bumpy ride made her even more edgy. The windows were mucked with years of grime and some tainted with the red paint of graffiti, but it didn’t matter much since all she saw was the darkness of the tunnels, zooming past in a black blur. Another bump and her grip became firmer on the warm, sliver pole. She looked up Draco who was stonily staring out the window if there was anything at all to look at. He obviously lost in thought. She felt the subway train slowing down until it halted with no grace. Hermione violently jerked forward and back. Luckily, Draco hand was at the small of her back, trying to help her keep steady. With a rumble, the doors slid open and few people filed out with one person getting on.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The sound of the doors slid closed and again the subway train moved with no grace. Draco looked down at Hermione, asking, “Next stop?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I personally don’t find this fun…” He glanced suspiciously at two young Hispanic men with baggy pants and oversized hoodies who stared back challengingly with chest puffed out. Draco in turn glared them down.

Hermione lifted her hand to turn his face gently back to hers. His eye softened when they were on her. “Draco, drop your pride right now. We came too far and it was not easy. We had to take an illegal portkey that you and Harry had set up and landed ourselves in an alleyway. Then, I had to figure out which train to take to get to the address. We are almost there.”

“But they keep looking at me like they want to start something,” said Draco gruffly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I know. Just remember their faces and maybe you can come back and hex them. They will be completely defenseless considering they are muggle-born.”

Draco snorted, “Right, I get your point. I can have a little more respect.”

The subway train again came to a stop, unnatural light pouring in the train. Draco grasped Hermione’s hand, leading her out the train onto the platform. The platform was empty expect for one person sitting propped against the wall with wild gray hair on his skeleton like skin. Big plastic bags sat around him as a cardboard sign was supported by him that was unreadable from the distance they were standing.

“Stand clear of the closing door, please.”

The doors slid shut and a few second later the subway train moved to rush down the tracks in a loud screech and created a rushing wind. Hermione glanced around, seeing the once cream titles stained with brown as if water had leaked through long along. Trash and black puddles were littered all over the tracks and the pillars were rusted with an amber brown.

“This is disgusting,” commented Draco with his nose scrunched. “With an easy spell, we can clean this up.”

“Well, we can’t,” said Hermione stiffly, her eyes still taking in her surroundings.

Draco sighed, “I know. Where to?”

“I’m not sure yet…” she replied, looking down at a ripped piece of parchment with an address scribbled. “Let’s head up.”

Draco nodded in agreement and both read the signs and directions to climb the steps to the populated air. The sun was nonexistent as the clouds ruled the skies in a forlorn gray. All the streets and towering building were dark and very few people were seen walking and crossing the streets. A car zoomed by and the sound of puddles splashing beneath its tires.

Hermione took a few steps from Draco, looking down the street. “I think it’s this way,” she whispered. Draco glanced behind him before following Hermione up the slight concrete hill.

Two men were walking with a cool limp, looking smug. As they were passing Draco, one of the men said to Hermione, “Yo, ma, you looking fine.” He whistled at Hermione.

Draco immediately stopped and turned out with his wand, aiming at the two with a hard stony face.

“Yo, this nigga is holdin’ a mother fucking stick,” laughed one man to the other. “What chu gonna to do? Poke me? I can’t even take this nigga serious!”

“Yeah,” egged the other, “He don’ know us. Who the fuck he is? He lookin’ all serious, but he’s a bitch ass. Right? Bit-ch ass,” he said while taking out a knife from his pocket.

“Oi!” All attention turned to tan man with a slight beer belly and slightly beefy who just walked out of the Hispanic convenience store. His dark eyes pierced the two New Yorkers.

“Shit,” murmured one. “Nah, chill, Brit man. We won’t mess wit ya’ll. They yo people.” He nodded at Draco and Hermione. “Much respects, dude.” He backed away with hands up in the air until they both stuttered down the street with fleeting nervous glances back.

Hermione met the dark brown eyes. “Carrington!” she gasped. She ran to the man who embraced her in a friendly, warm hug. Upon releasing her, he eyed Draco suspiciously.

“A Malfoy…? Doing here?”

“Yes,” said Hermione cheerfully. “I have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Alright,” nodded Reeves, still staring at Draco. “Off we go, quickly.”

He glanced around nervously and grabbed the two hastily. There was a squeeze on their bodies and a tug on their tummies and they finally appeared in a dingy apartment. The mustard colored wall had peeling paint and cracks and dents in the wall. There was a single black leather sofa with countless creases, a small center table and a small 1990s TV settled across the wall from the couch. The living room window was barred and the honking and faint bustling echoed up to their floor. Behind the center wall was two passageways in which she could slightly see old kitchen cabinets.

“This is terrible I know,” said Reeves with disgust. “But according to the American Democracy of Magic, I can’t fix it up. Have a sit.” He gestured them to the couch and they sat, still glancing around the place as Reeves pulled up a foldable chair in front of them. He heaved a heavy sigh once he sat down. “So, how are you Miss Granger?”

“Mrs. Malfoy now,” said Draco quickly.

He cocked an eyebrow calmly at Draco. “Is it true?” he asked Hermione now.

“Very. I had trouble finding people to stay with. After much convincing, Draco took me in and agreed to marry me in order to keep me safe. That happened in mid-October.”

“About six months ago,” commented Reeves. “A lot must have happened in six months.”

“Very much so,” agreed Hermione. “Disregarding personal problems, there is a lot that has happened. Even though I lived in the Malfoy Manor for quite some time now, I barely knew anything. I went to one resistance fight and that didn’t end so well for…many…” Hermione glanced at Draco uneasily. “And one time I was in Bulgaria, it seemed like there was very little resistance there…”

“As I would expect,” replied Reeves. “Most of the new Death Eaters come from there.”

“Yes and that didn’t end well either… Viktor Krum died.”

Reeves sighed. “He was head of the resistance over there…”

“So, he was…”

“I was expecting to hear from you as well,” said Reeves somberly. “Recently, I received a letter from the Minister. He told me he was captured along with Dean Thomas and held at the Malfoy Manor until you helped them escape.”

At this, Draco looked uneasily to Hermione.

“But none of this explains why Mr. Malfoy is here. Aren’t you a Death Eater?”

“Never in my heart,” Draco replied firmly. He slipped out the folders and dropped them with a loud thump on the small table between them. “This…is what’s going to help the resistance.”

Reeves leaned forward, staring at Draco and opened the folder. Once he saw, Draco wasn’t protesting, he began reading several documents. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and finally exclaimed, “This is the most important information I have ever read…” He looked up at Draco. “How did you get ahold of this?”

“I was head for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, although, it is obvious there were only plans for international countries to cooperate with us…”

“Do they know that you took this?”

“I made copies of these and made them look as original as possible to leave behind. But certainly, they know I disappeared. I was able to get the documents without any trouble, but—”

“But now your disappearance along with your wife is suspicious and probably landed you on your own father’s wanted list.”

“That is probably correct,” replied Draco, leaning back and leg propped on his other.

“What made you turn?” asked Reeves and he glanced at Hermione. “Never mind that…”

“Hm,” Draco answered. “I also had their plans to invade France. We have given that information to Pott-Potter and Weasley. He is to go off to France.”

For once, Reeves smiled. “Good. The Minister is there. He shall handle France and I America. With these statements and documents, I am sure that it will convince the American Democracy of Magic to engage in reactive action against the Death Eaters… I shall letter the President right away.” With a wave of a wand, a quill and a parchment zoomed next to Reeves, floating in mid-air. “Dear Minister Shacklebolt, I have received both Mrs. Hermione,” he paused for a second to mentally correct herself, “Malfoy and Mr. Draco Malfoy who did not come the least empty handed. They have brought very important documents that surely would ensure the Americans to fight with us for our cause. I have also been informed that you as well will be receiving vital information, if you have not already, to help with the cause in France. I also hope that both Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Ginvera Weasley was able to safely arrive in France. I wish luck and safety to all of you. Sincerely, Reeves Carrington.”

He snatched the paper and quill in mid-air and read silently and quickly to himself. After reading, he whistled and a small owl zipped to him. He handed the owl the now folded and enveloped letter. Draco rushed to the window to open it courteously and the owl soared between the two bars and out into the world.  

“How are you, Mr. Carrington?” Hermione asked somberly. “You never let me have the opportunity to ask.”

“It, in all honest, has been awful. As you can already tell, the American Democracy of Magic cannot stand me. They judge be to be an instigator and a nuisance. But I must get going again.” He stood to his feet, shuffling the papers. “I really need to get to this at once.”

Hermione stood to her feet. “Let me go with you.”

“No,” rejected Carrington politely. “It’s best I go alone. I don’t think they need two Brits annoying them,” he said with some humor in his voice. “I will letter you as soon as I can.”

Hermione nodded and Reeves nodded at Draco as a good-bye and swiftly left the apartment. Silence filled every space in the room as the stared out the window, in each other’s embrace. Finally Draco was the one who broke it, “So, what do we do now?”

“I suppose we wait like we’ve been doing…” muttered Hermione.

“I’m tired of waiting. We can do something while we wait…” whispered Draco huskily into her ear.

His lips brushing against her ear and his hot mint breath awakened the spot between her thighs. She inhaled sharply as he kissed her cheek, working his way down. With his hand on her chin, he turned and lifted her head to him. His lips came down to hers soft and gentle. But she didn’t want soft and gentle. She needed to lost herself. She pressed hard against him to the point where he fell back on the arm of the couch and straddled him, kissing him aggressively. She broke apart from him, pulling off her cute knitted jumper of cream and unhooking her plain white bra. She let the clothing fall on the floor and Draco with ease fondled her upper intimate areas. He was going to devour her. And she had every intention of doing the same to him.


They had dozed off into the gloomy evening when a pigeon began to peck Draco’s hand as he grumbled awake. Upon seeing the pigeon, he panicked. “HERMIONE!” She jolted awake and took the note from the pigeon and patted its head a little too forcefully because of her quickness. The note stated,

The Americans are taking immediate action already as well as France from what I been told. I will be leaving with them. Answer as quickly as possible to let me know if you two are going to join the fight.

“Quill! Quill!” cried Hermione shrilly. “I need a quill.” She lunged forward at the quill and parchment on the table, but Draco seized her wrist before she can start writing frantically.

“Wait, what are you planning to write?” asked Draco with such seriousness to his eyes.

“That we are going, of course!” she answered shrilly.


What? Why?”

“Hermione,” he said softly. “Think about this. We have been having sex for the last two weeks or so without any type of protection.”

Flashbacks of memory flooded her mind of her and Draco in the Fairfield cottage using every inch of the house part of their love making. Every moment of loving filled in the void spaces of their heart with the passion of love. She gulped.

He asked, “Isn’t it possible that you can get pregnant again? Or that you are at this moment and don’t know it? You may or may not be, but this isn’t a chance I don’t want to take. I can’t let you get hurt…so I’ll go.”

“It isn’t fair!” she cried. “It isn’t fair you can go and I can’t.”

“I have to see my mother. To see if she is okay!”

“And I need to know that my friends are safe! They are my family!”

“YOU CANNOT GO! I won’t allow it!”

“What is stopping me? Once, you go, I can leave behind your back. And go ahead, think about talking my wand because I’ll head back the muggle way! You cannot trap me in here by myself! You cannot stop me!”

Draco snatched the quill and parchment from her and quickly scribbled, We will both wait on you here after the war is over and the Death Eaters are suppressed. He folded the note, handing it off to the pigeon who took it into the sky.

“We both stay here and wait,” he said grimly with a flare of frustration. “You are not leaving from my sight. Not while there is a possibility you might be pregnant or soon enough become…”

Her eyes averted away from him as she laid her head on the table and wondered if her and Draco was going to survive this. The war and the miscarriage has put a strain on the relationship. She can only hope once the war was over, she could finally have her happy ever after.


Two weeks passed and they received no answer. They waited on notes, letters and watched out the window for a sign of a bird in the sky to deliver some type of news. Hermione was constantly anxious where she constantly aimlessly walked around, searching for something as Draco looked at her uneasily. Although he was nervous himself, he continually engaged with Hermione, taking her out to dinner in nearby local restaurants, watching TV with her, reading to her aloud and tempting her to surrender to the physical vices. Yet with all the attempted entertainment, the two weeks passed by slow until—

The door opened with a band and immediately, Hermione and Draco pointed there wands at the intruder, but lowered them quickly.

“Carrington!” cried Hermione.

He was grinning. Reeves was a sweet and friendly man, but always serious and never grinning, not like this. “It’s over… The war is over… We can go back now.”

A/N: Okay, as you can see I didn’t want Hermione & Draco participate in battles or any war stuff right now because a) of Draco’s reasoning b) I’m lazy to write any action-pack stuff c) I find action-packed writing somewhat boring and would forever have writer-block then I wouldn’t have finished this fic then one of you would find me then kidnap me then make me write in a dingy basement, locked away eating sloppy food while I cry myself to sleep every night. I guess in the end you would have your story after some time BUT I rather not get kidnap. We can avoid that, ‘kay? ^__^

So, what will happen now since the war is over? Will they stay married & settle down to have kids? OR….


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