New story! I own nothing! Happy Friday!

Chapter 1

"Run!" he shouted as the room burned around them.

"No, I'm not going to leave you behind," she replied, standing her ground as he tried to push her toward the door. "Please, just come with me. We'll get out of here together."

Tired and weak, Draco Malfoy shook his head. He was done fighting. His best friend had just been consumed by the Fiendfyre he had created. The girl in front of him was all he had, but it wasn't enough. "Go, Hermione, save yourself."

Hermione Granger awoke in a cold sweat. The war had ended three years earlier, but the nightmares persisted. They almost always took place in the Room of Requirement as it burned. Though they had made it out alive, it was the last time she saw Draco Malfoy. They had lost track of each other as the battle raged on, and when it ended, she had her own loved ones to tend to. Days later, she left for Australia in hopes of locating her parents, and hadn't returned to England since.

Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed into her parents' room and woke her mother gently. "Mum?" she said softly. "Can I?"

Helen Granger smiled sadly at her grown daughter and made room. "Of course," she whispered, holding up the blanket. Safely beside her mother, Hermione fell asleep in her arms.

She woke alone late the next morning. Draco continued to plague her thoughts as she showered and dressed before going in search of her parents. Each morning she thanked her lucky stars that she had been able to reverse the memory charm she'd placed on them before sending them to Australia. They had been unhappy when they learned what she had done, but she was glad to have them back. No part of her regretted the decision to stay in Sydney.

"Breakfast?"

Yawning, Hermione nodded as her father set down a plate of pancakes in front of her. "Did I wake you last night?" she wondered. Sitting across from her, Robert had a hard time saying yes. "I'm sorry, Daddy, for everything. I'm twenty-two and still sneaking in to sleep with my parents when I've had a bad dream. I'm just...I'm sorry."

Food forgotten, he beckoned her to his lap. "I don't care if you're twenty-two or forty-two or sixty-two," he said. "You're always going to be my little girl, and I'm always going to want to take care of you. If that means coming to us when you have a nightmare, then that's okay. After what you've been through, as much as I hate it, the way you're feeling is completely justified."

"Thank you, Daddy," she murmured, hugging him tightly before returning to her seat.

Helen returned from her morning run as Hermione finished eating. "Your aunt is getting married," she announced, sorting through the mail. She handed the invitation to her daughter who remained silent long after she finished reading it. Taking her silence as a bad sign, Helen assured her she didn't have to go.

"I can't avoid going back forever," Hermione said resolutely. "It'll be fine."

"If you're sure," Helen said with a nervous lilt in her voice.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded. It had been years since she had last spoken to her friends, and she missed them. Going home meant hopefully reconnecting with them, if they would still talk to her. Harry and Ron had been unhappy when she left after the war. They had wanted to help, but she refused. It was a task she began on her own, and one she needed to finish alone.

"What about that boy?" Helen asked later that day as she folded the laundry. "The one from school who you used to complain about? Do you think you might see him when we go home?"

Blushing, Hermione averted her gaze. "Mum," she mumbled. "That...that ended a long time ago. It's nothing, and I doubt I'll seek him out. It's over."

She shot her daughter a skeptical look. "You say his name in your sleep," she pointed out. "And I didn't mean to snoop, but I was putting some clean clothes in your room, and I found a box of unsent letters addressed to him. I don't think it's really over."

"It is, Mum," Hermione insisted. "We shouldn't have been together in the first place. He's a Slytherin, I'm a Gryffindor. He's a pureblood, I'm muggleborn. His family would never allow it, my friends would never speak to me again, and it was just a fling anyway. Draco Malfoy is far from being the love of my life, and I doubt he really cares about me either."

Helen frowned, but said nothing more about the boy she believed her daughter loved. "I just...all I care about is your happiness," she said. "That's all I'll say about it."

Sighing, the young woman leaned back against the pillows. There had been a small window of time during their sixth year when Hermione thought there might be a future with Draco. It was nothing but a pipe dream, she knew, but when they were alone, she was hopeful. He was a different person when they were alone. Gone were the cold, cruel sneer and harsh words. He was sweet, loving, and tender. That was the boy she dreamt of at night when she didn't see the war. Instead, she saw herself in his arms as they read together in a secluded section of the Hogwarts library. She saw herself happy.

"Did you know right away with Dad that he was the one?" Hermione wondered.

Grinning, Helen shook her head. "Honestly, I didn't even think I liked him when we first met," she confessed. "He was so quiet. Talking to him was - pardon the pun - like pulling teeth. I remember thinking that it couldn't possibly go anywhere if he wouldn't speak to me. But then...I don't know, something changed. He would send me flowers or leave food in front of my dorm room door if he knew I had a big exam to study for or slip a note under the door wishing me luck. I realized how these little gestures made me happy, and I looked forward to seeing him time after time. It wasn't love at first sight, but I'm not so sure that's a real thing. What it came down to was I was in love, and I knew your dad was the right person for me. It took time, but I got there."

Hermione nodded, taking in her mother's words. Draco had, once upon a time, made her feel the same way. Excusing herself, she returned to her room and pulled out the box of letters she had written to him over the years.

Today they would be sent.