Something new, as promised! I own nothing, but I will soon!

Prologue

The war was over. After seven years of battling and risking her life, Hermione Granger was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. The wizarding world was safe, at least for the time being. So many had lost their lives or suffered injuries, but Hermione was one of the lucky ones; a few scrapes and bruises, but otherwise unharmed.

A small clearing by the Black Lake was free of signs of the recent battle. Taking a seat in the grass, she stared at the calm water and assessed her injuries. A few healing charms later, and she was good as new. If only they could erase the memories of the horrors she had witnessed.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Slowly, she turned her head, surprised by who stood behind her. "I'm more surprised to see you without an Auror escort," she remarked.

Draco Malfoy, tall, proud, pureblooded, laughed as he sat down beside her. A friendship of sorts had formed between the pair during their sixth year. Branded and tasked with killing the headmaster, he had begun to confide in Hermione during their long nights in the library. The life of a Death Eater wasn't one he wanted, but despite her efforts to convince him to join her side, he couldn't. His parents' lives were on the line, and abandoning their cause meant their deaths.

"Believe me, I'm just as shocked as you are," he remarked, running his hand through his blond locks. "I'm sure I'm a wanted man."

The thought sent a chill down her spine, one Draco mistook for the cold, night air. He wrapped his arm around her in order to provide some warmth. Hermione relaxed against his side, wondering if she would ever get the opportunity to do so again. "You know I'll do whatever I can to help you," she murmured.

"What if you can't?" he wondered. "I've done...a lot of things that I'm not proud of, things I won't tell you about because I know you'll hate me if I do."

"Did you kill anyone?" she asked. Draco shook his head, but admitted that he had been forced to torture a muggle girl no older than eleven. "See, you use that word - forced. I know you, Draco, and I know you didn't want to do it. I can't hate you for that."

They sat in silence, wrapped in a tender embrace. "Run away with me," he suggested, tightening his hold on her. "We'll start over somewhere else, someplace where no one knows who we are and what we've done."

"Where would we go?" she asked, entertaining the idea, but not committing to it. It was insane. There was no way she could leave her life behind to run off with Draco Malfoy.

Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. "I don't know. Anywhere," he replied. "Anywhere you want to go. We'll go there together."

"I have to find my parents," she told him. "I sent them to Australia, memories wiped clean and new ones implanted. They have no idea what I've been doing for the last year. They have no idea that I even exist. Right now, they could be sitting on a beach, having the time of their life."

Letting her go, Draco laid down and placed an arm beneath his head. He stared at the night sky, dark but for a few twinkling stars. The castle lights didn't reach far enough to illuminate the lake, and wand light was needed to see the pair. With a gentle tug on her sleeve, he beckoned Hermione to do the same, and she laid her head to rest on his shoulder. "There's something you need to know," he said, holding her close, fearful that she might run. "They got them. Once You Know Who realized that the three of you were gone, he went after your parents. There was no way they could defend themselves against magic. I'm so, so sorry, Hermione."

She nodded, hiding her face, but not her tears, from Draco. They soaked through his shirt, but he said nothing about it. "Every night since I was twelve years old, I've gone to sleep and seen the horrible things I've lived through," she said as her sobs abated. "Their deaths are one more thing I've done wrong. I can't escape it."

True as it was that they could not outrun their memories, Draco wanted an out. He yearned for a new life now that the fighting had ceased. In England, he would forever be branded a Death Eater, but there were countries where Death Eater didn't carry the same stigma. He could leave the only home he had ever known and start over elsewhere.

"We might not be able to outrun our memories, but we could get away from the press and our reputations," he pointed out. "We could have very peaceful lives someplace else."

That appealed greatly to Hermione. It was possible for her to live out of Harry's shadow or only be seen as the brains behind the Golden Trio. Perhaps a small amount of peace was better than none. "Let's go," she decided, sitting up. Even in the darkness, she could make out his gray eyes and strong jaw. Leaning down, she kissed him softly for the first time. She didn't know if their paths would diverge, and wanted to make sure she kissed him at least once before they did.

"What was that for?" he wondered, his hand tangled in her wild hair.

"I didn't want you to leave without getting to do that first," she replied, blushing.

Draco pressed his lips to hers. "I'm not going without you," he whispered.

Pulling away, she sat back on her heels and bit the lip he had just kissed. "I've been thinking," she said. "I like this idea of getting away from here. What if we could do something about our memories though?" Draco sat up, skepticism in his eyes. "The spell I used on my parents, we could do the same."

"Wouldn't we forget each other?" he wondered.

But Hermione assured him they wouldn't. "The spell is selective," she explained. "All we would need to do is obliviate certain memories and replace them with new ones. We could have happy lives with no memory of war and death and destruction."

His eyes fell to his left arm and the Dark Mark that was indelibly etched in his skin. "What about this?" he wondered. "It'll always be there."

"So will this," she replied, revealed the cruelly carved mudblood on her right arm. "We'll still have magic. We'll still know what these things mean. We just won't remember the bad things."

Frowning, he held her arm and traced the letters with the tip of his wand. Suddenly, the brand was gone. He rubbed the soft skin of her arm and allowed himself to smile. "Hermione, I don't want to be a wizard anymore," he confessed. "Let my last bit of magic be for something good."

"You'll still have to obliviate me," she reminded him.

Nodding, they worked out the memories that would be implanted before wands were lifted.

"Obliviate!"