The dreams were starting again. She'd thought that three years would be enough to keep them from coming, but she was always wrong. It always happened around the end of June. That was when she had gone back to get her parents.

At three in the morning she woke up gasping and crying, her chest heaving. She hated remembering that time. Though her relationship with her parents had gone back to normal, the first few weeks had been hell and she still had nightmares of her greatest fear: disappointing those she loved most. In her dreams, her memories would replay of the day they had ignored her calls and her pleas for forgiveness. She had cried every day for them to understand, and it took a week for them to finally listen to her. The next few weeks of dealing with their disappointments and ignorance of her reason along with their cold demeanor had affected her greatly.

She got out of bed immediately and used her old mobile to ring her mother. "Mum?" she said, still hiccoughing a little. Her mother sounded sleepy when she answered, but immediately became alert when she heard her daughter's tearful voice.

"What is it, Hermione?" Mrs. Granger asked, concerned.

"Mum, I've been having those dreams again."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry. To this day I wish I hadn't said any of those hurtful things."

"Mum, it's not your fault."

"Honey, I wish I could tell you something to ease you. I want you to know that your father and I love you very much. And we're so proud of you."

Hermione closed her eyes as the words soaked in. Her heart calmed.

"You know we were just upset then that you had almost killed yourself and used magic on us."

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I understand that it was for your good. I love you, darling."

"I love you too Mom."

"Don't ever doubt that ever again. Now try and go back to sleep. Use something that will make the dreams go away."

"Dreamless sleep potion?"

"Yes, that."

"Can I visit you and Dad soon?"

"Of course! You know our door is always open. Though we are going to a dentist convention in a week."

"Okay. I'll try to drop by before then."

"We'll be expecting you, then. Now go to sleep, love."

"Goodnight, Mum. I love you."

"I love you too. Goodnight."

"Bye."

Hermione hung up the phone and tried to take her mother's advice, but she was out of the potion and couldn't get back to sleep. She used to time instead to do the paperwork she had brought home. By the time she was finally able to doze off, it was time to get ready for work.

The Ministry was rather hectic all of a sudden. Hermione assumed that it was because school had just ended that children were misbehaving by the hundreds, eager to show off their magic outside of school even if they weren't supposed to.

Nightmares partnered with long hours in the office did nothing for Hermione's mental and physical state. She was exhausted every day even with the dreamless sleep potions.

Two cups of coffee in the mornings were enough to keep Hermione's eyes open as she worked, though the words blurred together occasionally. She wasn't very productive even during a somewhat important meeting with a 13-year-old troublemaker and her mother. Hermione tried to discuss the importance of keeping one's magic in control and tried to answer Mrs. Lychenski's questions, but the caffeine seemed to wear off in the middle of the meeting and she had to cut it short to recharge.

She spent her lunch hours taking short naps instead of eating with her friends, opting instead to snack on fruit while she worked. Her exhaustion peaked that Friday and she was forced to call in sick and she shut herself in to sleep all day. But once the daylight disappeared, she awoke, her back hurting and her bed feeling lumpy. Groaning in annoyance, she got out of bed groggily. She didn't know what the problem was. There were several sealed envelopes in her little letter catcher right outside of her window.

One was an invitation to go to a pub that night from Ron and Harry, another from Ginny asking if she was all right, and yet another from Draco asking if she wanted to get dinner again. Genna had sent her a letter as well inquiring about several appointments and about her health. It was nice to be sought after. She rejected all and answered Genna's questions and attempted to sleep for another half hour before moping around her flat. Atmidnight, someone knocked at her door and she peeked through the peephole, attempting to flatten down her wild hair.

To her surprise, Ron was outside. His red hair was unmistakable. Not caring that he'd see her in this disheveled state, she opened the door and smiled. And then her smile dropped.

"Oh, uh, I wasn't expecting you guys," she said slowly, and Ron flashed a smile.

"Since you couldn't come to the pub, we decided to bring it to you! You've been pretty off this week so we wanted to help you relax," Ron said, holding up a paper bag.

Hermione was too busy blushing and feeling self-conscious in her pyjamas to acknowledge his thoughtfulness.

"Sorry, the flat's a mess right now," Hermione said apologetically. "Come in, come in." She shot a look at Harry and Ron. "Thanks for giving me a heads-up."

Ron grinned. "No problem!" And he walked past her, leading Draco and Harry to the living room as Hermione fled to her room.

Ron had settled on the couch with Harry and Draco was sitting in an armchair when Hermione came out looking presentable. Her hair was in a plait and her face was washed. She donned on a bathrobe, though she didn't think the boys would be bothered by it. Well, Harry and Ron, anyway.

The boys were drinking alcohol out of her glasses and Harry scoot over to make room in between him and Ron. She sat and sighed, sinking into her comfortable leather couch.

"Having those nightmares again, are we?" Harry asked sympathetically.

She nodded. "Yeah. I called Mum last week and she sounded really sorry. I didn't want her to feel guilty so I stopped calling."

"Shoulda called us," Ron said and poured her a glass of mead. "Here, drink some."

"Thanks." She took a sip of the sweet alcohol. "So what were you all talking about?"

"Just work."

Hermione cracked a smile. "If I didn't know any better I would've thought that you lot were becoming work-a-holics."

"Good thing you know better," Ron said with a wink that made Hermione's stomach knot. She laid her head on his shoulder instead and sighed. She made eye contact with Draco in doing so, watching as he pursed his lips and finished off his drink.

"It was nice of you to come too, Draco," Hermione said, cheeks flushing a little in remembering the state of her flat. "I wish you'd have come a different time, though. When my flat wasn't like this."

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. Gives it the look that someone lives here. Homier."

"Well, it should, though it looks more like a home office to me. There're clothes all over my flat and dirty cups and dishes. Not paperwork," Ron teased, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you didn't know by now, I am a work-a-holic."

"Amen to that," Harry said, raising his glass briefly before imbibing it. "Shall we turn some music on?"

"That sounds like an idea," Ron said, standing up and going to Hermione's dusty wireless. "Looks like this hasn't been used in ages."

"I haven't been in my flat very much the past few weeks," she explained as she poured herself another glass of mead.

A Weird Sisters song came on and Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I never really liked the Weird Sisters," she said.

"Hey, just because they're not very nice to look at doesn't mean their music isn't good," Ron replied as he came back to his seat.

"That's not what I meant!" Hermione exclaimed, though it partially did have something to do with her disdain for them. "Their music is fun to dance to, but not really my style. I'm not a fan of hard rock or metal."

"Neither am I," Draco piped up.

"Oh, come on," Ron said. "How can you not like this song?" He began to sing along. "No stoppin' till the break of dawn. Put your hands up in the air like an ogre, just don't care. Can you dance like a hippogriff? Ma ma ma, ma ma ma, ma ma ma. Flyin' off from a cliff? Ma ma ma, ma ma ma, ma ma ma."

Hermione thought of Ron and how confident and playful he was now in comparison to his younger self. She still remembered how insecure and self-conscious he was at eleven. At seventeen he'd been devastated and had been nearly a shell of his former self. She'd watched him and had helped him repair himself with her love and support. Losing a brother was hard as were losing friends in war. But here he was now, strong and happy and silly as he was. Watching the tall man in need of a haircut bounce up and down in his seat singing softly brought a small smile to Hermione's face.

"Ginny and I used to sing this around the house when we were younger," Ron chuckled, drinking from his glass and pouring himself another. "Drove Mum mad, it did."

Hermione shook her head at him. "The lyrics are absolutely ridiculous."

"I hate hippogriffs," Draco added. "Ogres don't even put their hands up in the air. Unless it's to smash something."

"Exactly! I'm glad at least you understand me Draco." Hermione sighed.

"Well, sorry they can't all be like Celestina Warbeck," Ron said dramatically. Hermione rolled her eyes. She always seemed to be rolling her eyes around him.

"And why not?" Harry joked in Hermione's defence. "You ought to know that Celestina Warbeck must rule the wireless because she's Hermione's favourite singer!"

"Honestly, you two are acting like children!" Hermione exclaimed. "Just because she's my favourite singer doesn't mean I like to listen to her all the time!"

"Oh my poor heart, where has it gone? It's left me for a spell! And now you've torn it quite apart. I'll thank you to give me back my heart!" Ron crooned, and Hermione hit him with a throw pillow.

"Shut up!"

He just laughed and drank his mead.

"These blokes." She shook her head and got up. She went and stood in front of Draco. "Mind if I sit on the arm of your chair?" she asked. "I think I'll go mad if I sit next to those idiots any longer."

"Hey! We're just teasing, 'Mione!" Ron groaned.

"Don't mind at all," Draco replied with a smirk. "I'd go mad if I was sitting with them too."

"I don't appreciate this Ron and Harry bashing!" Harry replied.

"Yeah! We're not heads of our divisions for nothing!" Ron added.

"Whatever." Hermione sat down on the arm of the comfy chair and drank from her glass and tried not to feel self-conscious next to Draco. She was just being silly.

"Shall I sing another song for you, 'Mione?" Ron asked, grinning.

"You're quite fond of singing all of a sudden," Hermione noted. "Did he drink much before he got here?"

"Five shots of Firewhiskey at the pub," Harry told her.

"Good Merlin."

"Oh, come and stir my cauldron, and if you do it right, I'll boil you up some hot, strong love to keep you warm tonight!" Ron sang, and Hermione laughed. How could she not laugh when he was like this?

"Bloody hell, Ron. You know these songs better than I do."

"Liar! You used to sing it all the time with Mum during the holidays!"

"Only because Molly loves Celestina Warbeck."

"Like you do."

"Oh, shut up!" The throw pillow she had been clutching went straight to his head, almost knocking his glass out of his hand.

"Hey! Careful! You wouldn't want your carpet stained, would you?"

"If you spill a drop Ronald Weasley, Merlin help me, I swear I'll murder you." A glare accompanied her threat.

"I know you would." Ron chuckled and drank from his glass again.

A silence fell between the four as they drank. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment as Lorcan d'Eath began to play, singing his famous love song. She hummed along for a moment before she opened her eyes.

"I haven't heard this song in ages," she said. Draco's eyes were fastened to the liquid in his glass as Ron and Harry leant back on the couch, sleepy-eyed.

"Want to dance?" Draco asked her suddenly, and Hermione smiled.

"Why not? I've had enough to drink."

Draco smiled and placed his glass on the coffee table and stood. He offered his hand to her and she smiled and placed her hand in his and another on his shoulder. She felt her stomach knot when his hand touched her waist tentatively. She met his eyes and smiled again before leaning her head forward and sighing.

It had been awhile since her last romantic relationship. She didn't know if it had been because she was still holding a small flame for Ron or because she hadn't been attracted to anyone else since him. Maybe both. But now, dancing slowly with Draco to Lorcan d'Eath's "Necks to You," Hermione felt more than uncomfortable. Not because he wasn't a great dancer, but because she suddenly felt self-conscious and nervous, silly enough. Draco's hand slid around her back, holding her close, and she closed her eyes.

She hummed along again as the chorus sounded, and Draco squeezed her hand lightly, so quickly she thought she had imagined it. His head had lowered and she could feel his alcohol-tainted breath on her neck. It struck her as funny that they were dancing—swaying—to a song called "Necks to You" with necks next to each other.

Her nose brushed his collar bone when she lowered her head, leaning her forehead against his soft jumper. His fingers shifted and they thread through hers, his grip tightening. "Hermione," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear and ruffling through her hair. Her heartbeat picked up at their intimate proximity, and she swallowed and opened her mouth to respond in kind.

"Oi! Why are all these love songs playing? Where's the good music?"

Ron's boisterous, though distant, voice broke their moment and Hermione opened her eyes and moved away as he fiddled with her wireless in the open kitchen. Harry had mysteriously disappeared.

"No! Ron! Don't touch it! That's one of the newer models. You're going to break it!" She rushed to him and slapped his hand away.

"Merlin, 'Mione! No need to get so touchy. I know how to work a wireless!"

In truth, Hermione was embarrassed at having forgotten Ron and Harry while she had danced with Draco. She was immensely glad they had left the room to give them unnecessary privacy.

Draco followed and pulled up a chair from the kitchen table.

"What do you want to listen to then, Ronald?" she asked snidely.

"What does it matter?" Ron sulked. "You're not going to want to listen to it anyway."

"Ugh! Don't be such a baby." She turned the knob till she got a clear sound of the Weird Sisters singing their hearts out. "Better?" She didn't wait for an answer but turned swiftly and stormed back to the living room. Thinking better of it, she returned in a moment. "By the way, where's Harry?"

"Here," the man in question called as he stepped out of the loo. "It's almost one," he noted. "I should get back home and get some sleep for work tomorrow."

"Good idea," Ron said. "I think I'm done drinking for tonight too." He finished off his glass and put it into the sink.

"Thanks for coming, guys," Hermione said as she levitated the other empty glasses into the sink. "Hopefully I'll be able to sleep better tonight." She met Draco's grey eyes again and she smiled.

"If you need, owl me and I'll come over," Draco said seriously.

"Same here," Harry and Ron declared in unison. They looked at each other and Hermione smiled.

"Thank you guys so much. I appreciate it."

She pulled her robe tighter around herself as she watched Harry and Ron pull on their jackets.

"Coming, mate?" Harry called to Draco.

"Yeah," he said, albeit reluctantly, and stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, Granger." He leant forward and kissed her cheek tenderly.

"Yeah, tomorrow." Hermione was a little stunned by the affectionate kiss.

"G'night, 'Mione!" Ron said loudly, smacking a kiss to her cheek as well. She smiled.

"Goodnight, Ron."

" 'Night, Hermione," Harry called from the door, and Hermione waved.

"Bye Harry! Have a goodnight, all of you."

"Thanks for not kicking us out," Ron added and winked. Hermione smiled.

"I'd never kick out any friends of mine out!"

"Love you too!"

Hermione laughed as Ron pushed Draco ahead of him and shut the door behind them. God, she loved her friends more than life itself.

Another fight and she had left fuming. She had ignored everyone and everything for a little while before her temper cooled down considerably and she was able to look at the situation clearly. And she clearly was overreacting. Of course house elves were important, but just because he didn't care as much as she did didn't mean she had to end their whole relationship. It was just another flaw she had to accept about him because she loved him just like he accepted her flaws because he loved her. Very much.

She had left him alone for two weeks and by the first day of the third week, she popped over to his house. As if God himself had dictated it, he walked out onto his front yard, saw her, and then turned right on his heel and went back into his house. She, of course, followed. She saw him walking quickly up the stairs, already near the top, but she was in no hurry to reach him. She knew this house well. She followed him up and walked over to his room. She peeked in and saw him lying on his stomach on his bed, his fingers clutching a book in front of his face, his body propped up by his elbows. His eyebrows were furrowed in faux concentration. She went to him and curled up at his side, laying her head right on his lower back. She fingered his soft shirt.

He said nothing. She said nothing. And then she said ever so softly, "I'm sorry for being such an over-reactor." She moved her hand up his side and to his back.

"You should be," he grumbled and she paused.

He expelled air through his nose in a sigh. "I'm sorry for being so insensitive."

She smiled and ran her fingers down his spine and back to his side. She slipped her fingers under his shirt and touched his soft skin and watched the back of his head as he didn't concentrate on the book.

After a few minutes of their silence, she grew tired of running her fingers over his skin. Sometimes, like now, she had an overwhelming feeling of longing and wanted to be as close to him as possible. She sat up and straddled his back instead and wrapped her arms around his chest. "I missed you," she said into his neck, realising how much she really had missed him.

"I missed you too," he replied, and she kissed the spot under his ear.

"Sometimes," she continued between light kisses on the side of his face, "I wish I could just be around you all the time and we didn't fight so much."

"Fighting brings us closer," he countered immediately. "We fight because we're independent and we're trying to find a way to come together and we get frustrated. And then we fight." He dropped the book. "Our interests don't always have to match perfectly."

"That's life," she said and sighed into his neck again. He always smelled so good. Maybe it was his cologne or just his natural scent, but whatever it was, it smelled delicious. She just wanted to lie like this all day, though his arms would probably get tired from holding them up.

He made a movement with his body, telling her silently that he wanted to turn, so she loosened her grip on him and allowed it. Then she saw his lovely face again and she smiled, tucking her hair behind one ear. She stretched her body out so she was laying on him completely.

"I love you," she told him, kissing his mouth. His arms embraced her. When she pulled back, he smiled.

"I love you," he replied, "even though we fight so much. I'll always love you."

"Don't say 'always,'" she said, kissing his nose. His fingers combed through her hair. "You never know when 'always' will end."

"Fine. If it ends, it ends. But for now, let's just live in the present. And in the present, I'll always love you."

She giggled. "You're such a sap. What have I done?"

He reached up with his head to kiss her again. "You've done good, love." He rolled them over and propped himself up on his elbows again. He pressed kisses on her face. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…"

A/N: Well, the reviews weren't as plentiful as I'd liked, but oh well. I would like some feedback, however. Reviews help me grow as an author and to know what works and what doesn't. Thank you all who are reviewing! I appreciate your support/feedback very much :) Thank you for reading, and please tell me how I'm doing! (That sounded like one of those 'Tell Me How I'm Driving' bumper stickers on trucks with the number at the bottom, except mine would say, 'Tell Me How I'm Writing' with the review button). Hehe. Thank you for reading! And anyone intrigued by Pottermore? Eek!