Yule was soon upon them. The guards occasionally hummed a carol or two. One had put charmed mistletoe in the exercise yard and made once proud men kiss each other for jollies. The next day the charm had been enhanced. He'd been spared that misery, but his father had not. It had been the last straw for the once proud man. Dolohov hadn't minded a bit, but Lucius had succumbed to an oddly virulent chest cold that night. Draco hadn't much cared.

It was Weasley that came, mouth breathing and still angry, to tell him the happy news. Due to the gross negligence of the guards, he was being freed ten years early as a reparation for what had been done to his family. Draco had nodded slowly, waiting for the special sprinkles of doom.

"You won't be allowed to live in England for the next ten years. The German Ministry has agreed to allow you access to your home there." Ronald Weasley rolled his eyes. "A portkey will be provided."

"Can I visit her grave first?" Draco pushed the words past his lips. It was odd to talk after all the time spent in forced silence.

"They didn't give her a grave." Ron sneered. "She was a bloody traitor, trying to smuggle you lot to freedom."

Draco closed his eyes as the grief hit him fresh and hard. They'd been getting the last few stragglers out as the light side purged England of Slytherins when they'd been caught. Hermione had sacrificed herself to try to buy him time. He could still see her on the ground staring up at the constellations with unseeing eyes. She'd been fighting for the soul of England, but she had lost.

He missed her everyday.

"My things?" Draco looked squarely at Weasley.

"Will be returned when you are processed for release." The man took a step back. "I wanted to see you. It's why I came. I wanted to understand why she chose you."

"I wish I knew." Draco sighed. There was something oddly disturbing about standing there lost in grief with one of her former friends. He took a deep breath and stared at the man.

Ronald Weasley nodded and stepped back again.

"She cried. Some nights, she cried these silent tears for you and Potter." Draco offered the man what she would have wanted, but he did so knowing it would bring no comfort.

"Don't come back, Malfoy." Weasley sighed. "Go to Germany and stay."

He left with a clang of metal. Draco slid down the stone wall and sat on the floor. He was being freed from prison, and it did not matter.

Potter, looking wildly rumpled, arrived with his wand and a small bag of his possessions the next day. The bag was a treasure trove. He clutched at his clothing. The oddly knit jumper had been his gift from her the Yule before their luck had run out. He clutched the thing to his chest and rocked himself back and forth. He didn't care if Potter saw his grief. He didn't give a bloody damn what Potter did.

When the first wave of grief was done drowning him, he dressed. Everything was too large, but he couldn't adjust it without his wand. He held the jumper to his chest. It was now his greatest treasure. He blinked at Potter and saw the man's grief surface.

"She wrote me letters." Potter looked over his shoulder. "She told me that she loved you. It's good to know she wasn't alone in that."

"Do you know what happened to her?" Draco looked at the ground between them. "What was done with her body?"

"They were going to make a spectacle and burn it." Potter whispered. "Someone broke in and stole it before that could happen. I wish I could thank them everyday. Watching her burn..."

Draco understood.

The horror of it would have finished Potter.

"I'd be burning England if they'd burned her." Draco sighed. "I'll find her. I promise you. I'll find her."

Potter nodded. They walked down the narrow corridor in silence. The other prisoners struggled against the charms that stopped them from talking, but the sounds they managed never approached a murmur. Draco didn't look at them. He watched as Potter did. He watched the broad shoulders droop as the horror of it sunk into his brain.

"If she'd lived, they'd have put her in here." Draco sighed as he considered that reality. "She would have hated it here, and I don't imagine the guards would have spared her. Most of the females don't last long here."

"Death as a mercy?" Potter shook his head.

"My father thought it was." Draco frowned.

"Perhaps I'm selfish, but I'd rather imagine her out there in the world somewhere." Potter closed his eyes and not his lower lip.

"With me? Because she would have been with me." Draco raised his chin.

"I know that." Potter handed him a ring. "It's meant to be yours, I'm sure. Your constellation is picked out on the gold in gemstones. Find her, Malfoy, and let me know how the mercy of it feels."

"I'll be sure to lay some poppies on her grave for you." Draco slid the ring on his finger and felt it warm slightly. He looked down at it and cupped his hand to his chest.

They crossed through a door into the dull grey of afternoon. The wind ripped at them both. Potter shoved the port key and another bag into his hands and Draco surrendered to the power pulling him away from hell.

He stumbled as he landed in the foyer of the Winter House. It wasn't a grandiose place by Malfoy standards. It had been his grandmother's retreat from her husband when his father had attended Hogwarts. He frowned and looked around the room and the furniture draped in sheets. Only the main table was bare.

It should have been covered as well. There was an arrangement of white peonies on the table. He walked toward the flowers. They were caught in a stasis spell which wasn't odd, but his grandmother had hated peonies.

Hermione had loved them.

He moved closer and lifted the vase. A muggle carol played. He recognized the tune. Hermione sang it to him once when he'd been tired. It had been her mother's favorite. he closed his eyes and tried to remember the name of the song. It was something to do with a forest. He hummed along with the tune. He remembered her voice as she sang about a hall and a bed. there been just a touch of something sorrowful and lost about it. He set the vase down and the music ceased.

The light in the receiving room was too bright. One of the curtains had been left open. The elves simply weren't that careless. He strode across the room and stared out the window. Endless snow and trees. He heard the elves arriving. Soon the house would be prepared. He'd have comforts and decent food, but he didn't care. He only wanted her.