Author's Note: Oh my gosh. One chapter left. Holy crow. It's honestly hard to believe that it's almost over...a little sad, too. I'm only posting this so soon because my roommate has been threatening me...and she can be scary...hehehe.

Anywhoodles, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you so SO much for reading and if you leave a review, thanks for that as well. Much love!

Don't Forget It

The next two days were nothing short of hell. Hermione's life seemed to bear down on her from every way, closing in on her until there was nowhere for her to move, compressing the air around her until it became hard to breathe. From one side came guilt. Guilt that she did not support the society that needed her, guilt that she could not be there to help the Order fight, guilt that she had to sit idly in her Potions class in a horrid state of ignorance and wait like a child for news of victory or defeat.

From the other, came her classmates. After more than one day of hushed conversations and overheard snippets, anyone with a sound mind could piece together what was happening. Of course, no one but those close to the Order knew what was really happening, but the rumors were even worse. Moody had defected to the Dark Side and had sold out the Order…Harry had been one of those to die on the mission…the war was beginning sooner than anyone had anticipated. The last, though, was not so much of a rumor as it was a terrifying truth. The war was starting. Subtly and covertly, yes, but starting nonetheless. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The only release of pressure Hermione could rely on was Draco, and these days even he seemed unusually on edge. He put on a brave face for her, comforting her when she was worried and reassuring her that everything was going to work out. But when he thought she was not looking, his brow tensed and his gray eyes adopted a far-away look. He was just as frightened as she was, which worked with alarming efficiency to undermine the comfort he gave her.

It was the eve of the second attack and Hermione was spending it much like two nights before: wrapped in Draco's arms, staring blankly at the ceiling. But this time, she was nowhere close to drifting to sleep. Instead, her mind was sharp and anxious, waiting for the soft sound of approaching wings and a tap on the window.

The hours passed slowly and, as the pre-dawn rays barely tinged the thick mist with lightest pink and purple, Hermione still laid awake, eyes bloodshot and ringed with black. It must've been around five a.m.

"You didn't get a minute of sleep, did you?" asked Draco quietly. Hermione jumped slightly at the sound of his voice: he gave no indication that he was awake.

She answered him wearily, "No."

"Me neither," he said softly to himself.

Hermione sighed heavily and continued to stare at the ceiling when she heard something. She rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?" Draco asked.

"Shh," she hissed, earning an annoyed look from Draco. "That…that pounding…do you hear it?"

A minute of silence, then Draco spoke. "I can't hear a thing, Hermione. Are you sure you hear something?"

"Yes, I'm sure. There it is again!" And indeed, a series of muffled knocks, this time accompanied by what she imagined to be a shout.

"Now that I did hear," said Draco, who was out of bed in a flash. Not bothering to put on a robe over his pajama pants and bare torso, he headed towards the door, wand in hand.

"Draco!" Hermione whispered. "Where are you going?"

"The portrait hole," he said. "That's where it's coming from."

"Wait for me," she said, slipping on her robe over her short nightgown.

He shot her a hard look. "No. Whatever is pounding on the door this early in the morning is not to be trusted. Stay in here." Without another word, he slipped out of the door.

"Yeah, right," she muttered. Draco wasn't even at the edge of the steps when Hermione reached him, wand drawn. The pounding started again, as did the shouting. Hermione's heart beat a little bit faster and the air temperature seemed to drop. Although she doubted anyone was in trouble, shouts and heavy knocks were not something she wanted to hear at so early an hour.

Sticking close to Draco, they walked down the stairs and to the door. Draco pushed her back an arms-length.

"Cover me," he said quietly and raised his wand. Hermione watched tensely as his pale fingers gripped the edge of the portrait. He hesitated for a moment, then swung it open quickly. Hermione gasped as she saw who it was.

"Ron," she said, her surprise too strong to be hidden. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, shoving past Draco.

"I don't remember saying you could enter, Weasley," Draco said with bared teeth.

"I don't remember caring, Malfoy," Ron shot back with an icy glare. This surprised Hermione. She had never known Ron to snap so quickly at anyone, even Malfoy. And with such venom! Something was wrong.

"Ron, what is it?" she asked, her voice on the verge of shaking.

His glare softened, but his overall look did not. "I need to talk to you," he reiterated. "Alone." He shot a pointed glare at Draco, who drew himself up proudly and sneered.

"Anything you can say in front of her, you can say in front of me, Weasley," he said nastily.

"I don't think so," Ron said with a bored look cast over his shoulder. He grabbed Hermione's arm and started to lead her up the stairs.

"Hey! Where the devil do you think you're going?" Draco yelled, stepping forward. He whirled Ron around so that they were face to face, while Hermione stared at them mutely. As much as she wanted to intervene, the looks she saw in both of their eyes indicated that it was too late.

"Where ever I want to go, Malfoy, so I suggest you get out of my way!" Ron said with a shove.

Draco shoved him back, earning an uncharacteristic snarl from Ron. Draco growled right back and before Hermione knew what was happened, both had transformed – Draco as a grey wolf, Ron as a tawny lion.

They attacked each other instantaneously. They were a mess of brown and gray, of sharp claws and flashing teeth, as they rolled on floor. Draco would pin Ron, but then Ron would clout Draco soundly. Neither was ever down for long; they were too evenly matched. Ron had size, but Draco had experience.

'They're going to tear each other to pieces,' Hermione thought, a cold sick growing in the pit of her stomach.

"Impedimenta!" she yelled. Both lunging Animagi slowed comically, confused looks on their inhuman faces. Missing their targets for lack of speed and control, Ron landed on the floor with a thud. Draco, who had landed uncomfortably on the stairs, was first to regain human form. Hermione rushed to his side, wincing as he grimaced and held his ribs, hissing quietly. Cuts marred his face and bite marks his limbs.

Temporarily forgetting about Ron, she helped Draco into a sitting position, caressing those places that were injured and summoning a healing salve. She was about to start slathering it on his chest when Ron gave an outraged gasp.

"Hermione, what the bloody hell are you doing?" He glared at her accusingly as he struggled to sit.

Fighting the hot embarrassment threatening to overtake her cheeks, Hermione snapped, "Making sure you two fools don't kill each other." She headed over to him like nothing was wrong, like she had not just tended to Draco, her supposed arch nemesis, instead of Ron, one of her best friends. Unfortunately, Ron did notice this and shied away from her touch.

"What the hell was that about?" he yelled, looking from Draco to Hermione. "Did you really just help him up? Before me? Before…"

"Ronald, shut up!" Hermione shouted. "I do not have the patience to deal with this right now. You of all people should know this!"

"There was a time when you would have been happy to see him bleeding on the floor!" he accused.

"I could care less about Draco's state," she lied, "especially when you have something to tell me," she replied. Her voice dropped in volume, but was no less demanding. "Now what is it?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Where did you get that robe?" Hermione looked down and realized she had grabbed the one Draco gave her by mistake: a thin, short, black number – nothing like the long, teal one with which Ron was familiar. She fought the blush from her cheeks and struggled to remain focused.

She ignored his question, but watched with trepidation as his thoughtful eyes focused on Draco. He was busy putting salve on his cuts. Hermione took advantage of this. "What is it, Ron?" she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

With a last skeptical glance at Draco, he turned to her. "News," he said, "about last night's operation."

"I didn't get an owl about anything."

"They sent the message through the Floo system. But you weren't in your room…" His eyes narrowed in thought and he looked back towards Draco. Hermione's heart leapt in fear.

"What happened?" she asked quickly.

His attention caught once more, Ron continued. A change came over him, though. His eyes grew dim and his mouth grim. His face suddenly looked incredibly aged, like he was no longer in the frame of a seventeen year old boy. "Failure," he whispered. "Three more dead. Podmore, Kingsley, and…and Tonks."

Hermione's jaw dropped. As much as she felt the need to cry – the tears ready, poised at the corners of her brown eyes – she could manage no more than a gasp. "No…" More out of instinct than anything else, she crawled nearer to Ron, who gathered her in his arms. He rocked her gently as she unsuccessfully willed herself to cry. All she could manage were broken whimpers.

"I know, I know." Ron kissed the top of her head, his voice cracking. Draco remained forgotten on the stairs.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered into the crook of his neck. "What's going to happen?"

He pushed her away slightly, attempting to look into her eyes. "There's a leak in the Order." Hermione gasped again, shocked first because of the severity of the situation, and second because she did not think of it first. "We don't know who it is and I don't know what's going to happen about it."

"I can't believe this," she said. Though her grief was crippling and her shock nearly overwhelming, both emotions took a backseat to what she had just learned. All she felt now was numb and empty. Three more people, three more of her friends, were never to be seen again because one of their own had sold them out.

"The war is starting, Hermione," Ron said with a tone of finality. "We have to prepare."

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'll do all I can. Ron, I'll be ready."

He hugged her close once more, gripping her tightly. "Hermione, I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, Ron," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears anew.

The moment passed and Ron rose. Hermione walked with him to the door and smiled at him sorrowfully as he left. As the portrait hole closed, she sank to the floor, finally dissolving in tears. She was alone but for a moment; Draco's arms snaked around her, holding her together. Despite his strong hold, her body still threatened to collapse.

She finally calmed down enough to formulate words. "How much did you hear?"

"Most," he confessed. "Three more dead…Shacklebolt and Tonks, among them…the war is starting."

Hermione nodded mutely. "But there's one more thing: a leak in the Order."

His face was unreadable, but his body tensed almost imperceptibly. "Do they have any leads?"

"None," she shook her head.

"What are they going to do?"

"Not sure," she said, wiping her eyes. "What can they do? The Order of the Phoenix is old and their members loyal. The fact that one is deceitful…that there's a betrayer…They can't trust anyone now." She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes. "Draco…this could be our ruin."

XOX

It was March twentieth, the day before the spring equinox. By any definition, it was a beautiful day: clear, blue sky, unseasonably mild temperatures, a gentle breeze, bright sunshine. But a sense of foreboding hung about the entire castle.

The entire student body knew about the unsuccessful Order attack. Students clustered together, talking in soft voices. No one laughed. The teachers were tense and simultaneously absent-minded. There was a dragon in the room, and no one dared talk about it. As a result, everyone was on edge, simply waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And drop it did.

It was after dinner and Hermione was attempting to do homework. The key word being "attempting." She had every intention of working: her books were in front of her, as was a roll of parchment and a fresh jar of black ink. But she could not force the thoughts from her mind, much less put them on paper. Instead, she moved to a seat on the rail of the balcony, legs dangling dangerously off the edge while Draco cleaned up from Quidditch practice, enjoying the peace while it was still there to be enjoyed.

Despite the black shroud veiling her heart, Hermione could not help but notice what a beautiful night it was. It was just after sunset, the sky losing it's mosaic of light losing its light colors in favor of deep, rich shades of blue and purple. A planet appeared on the horizon – Mars, ironically, if her astronomy was correct. The Forbidden Forest hummed with life, providing a soothing soundtrack to the still night. A warm breeze picked up every so often, curling its soft fingers into her hair, caressing her face gently. She closed her eyes and leaned into its touch, letting her troubled thoughts temporarily drift away with it.

Draco joined her soon, leaning next to where she was sitting, looking out at the same scene. The wind picked up his scent: a clean, sharp odor that was not at all unpleasantly mingled with his usual, musky, incredibly male scent. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes to find his intensely fixated on her own.

Hermione kissed him deeply, leaning into him as he responded to her touch. As often as it now occurred, she never tired of the feel of his skin under hers. He was so warm and so real. The thought of being with him made her dizzy, just as the thought of being without him made her cold. The wind picked up and swirled around them gently and Hermione felt complete.

"Draco," she said, her words a whisper against his lips, "Draco, I love you."

He smiled and kissed her again, gently, luxuriously. She could feel him shake, or maybe she was shaking, but it didn't matter. "I love you, Hermione," he said in return. "I love you…I love you. Hermione, please, don't ever forget it."

Hermione smiled and looked up into his eyes. "How could I?"

They were about to embrace again when a fantastic light illuminated the entire grounds, so bright it was almost blinding. Following the light was a boom so deep and resonating that it almost knocked Hermione off of the ledge. Draco caught her just in time and swung her back over, shielding her with his body protectively. Once the great reverberation had settled, they stood at attention at the balcony, peering out into the night.

"What was that?" she asked, perhaps rhetorically.

Another flash illuminated the grounds, followed by a noise even deeper and more pulsating than the first. Several smaller flashes then lit up the night, followed by pops and shouts. Angry silhouettes coursed across the grounds, crackling beams of light flaring from the ends of their wands.

Draco turned into his room and clothed himself. Hermione stood dumbly at the railing, watching the scene before her unfold. Slowly, she turned to Draco, who was lacing up black combat boots from origin unknown. He looked at her plainly, worry etched across his features. "Hermione, get dressed," he said. "It's begun."