Epilogue: The Truth

Hermione stared at the leather-bound journal. She hadn't examined it closely before, when it was shoving her through time. All she'd ever gotten was a glance at the first page, covered in ink, before the windstorm began.

But now Hermione got the chance to really inspect the book. Draco was off getting them tea. She had plenty of questions for him. She needed to know if it all was an illusion or if it had truly happened.

The gold etchings were the only stunning thing about the book. The binding was fraying from age and the edges were worn. This book was aging, obviously, and was turned through many a time. Hermione ran her hand down the cover.

With her wand, she casted a Finite on it. With the spell, the runes and gold designs all disappeared, seeping into the leather and disappearing. Hermione gave a shudder. She hated the idea of sentient books ever since her Second Year and the episode with Tom Riddle's diary. But she gave the book a practice thunk and nothing happened. She spoke to it and received no response.

If she was lucky, it was now nothing more than an old book.

So she opened the cover slowly, bracing herself for another tumble. Nothing happened. The room around her was still. She took that as a good sign.

And Hermione was shocked to realize exactly what the contents of the book were.

Draco's sleeping, eating, and palying schedules! All in her pen!

Bewildered, Hermione flipped through the pages. The journal – her journal – went from childrearing guide to personal diary, speaking about Lucius fondly and her worries about Narcissa. All of them signed at the bottom with her initial, H.

That was when Draco returned, carrying a tray of tea things and setting it on the coffee table in the sitting area of the library.

"Are you going to tell me what happened exactly?" Draco inquired, gesturing at her pajamas and unkempt hair.

"I'm… not entirely sure," Hermione said slowly. Then she held up the book. "Are you familiar with this?"

Tilting his head and examining it, he finally answered, "I am. Mother and Father had a massive screaming match over it some years ago. She found it in his study. Apparently it belonged to my old governess." He shrugged.

"Do you… remember anything about her?" Hermione asked.

He crossed his legs regally, the same way Lucius would. "I was only two or three, I think. But… some things, I guess. I remember her having fluffy, darker hair. But… my mother said she was blonde." He shrugged.

Brow furrowed, Hermione frowned. That didn't make much sense.

"And she used to play hide-and-seek with me, apparently," Draco said with a shrug. "Used to drive Mother mad, Father says. I was always getting into places I wasn't supposed to be."

"What was her name? Your governess?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Heather," Draco said. "Father always called her Heather."

What?

"Ruined their marriage," Draco went on with another shrug. "It was bound to happen, but my father said Heather ruined him. In a good way, though. He said that no one could ever compete, not even his own wife."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, feeling deeply guilty.

"For what? For my parents having a doomed marriage from the start? Their bonding was political, Granger. There was never any lasting feeling there. Malfoy Manor had always been a cold place."

Hermione nodded. This she knew. Even back then, it was a numb, unfeeling place.

"Why so curious about that lousy journal, anyway?" Draco asked, raising a perfectly blonde eyebrow.

Hermione hesitated before saying, "Is there anything else you can tell me about this journal?"

Draco thought for a long moment. "Yes… I think so. Snape came around a few years back asking to see it. Father had no clue why or even how he knew about the journal. They got into quite a row about it. Father was suspicious, Snape was stubborn. Eventually Snape was sent away, but… this might sound crazy, but I'm almost absolutely sure that Snape sneaked into the library somehow that night. I heard footsteps in the hall and I went out to check if Father was pacing the corridors – he did that often – and I saw something black flash around the corner towards the library. But when I checked, no one was there. I don't know, I was only thirteen at the time."

Snape! It all made sense!

Snape had enchanted the book because he knew it would happen! Of course. He said he would do damage control after she left, and so he…

He must have altered the Malfoys' memories. Probably not Draco's – he was only a toddler – but Narcissa and Lucius's, definitely.

Heather. Her fellow governess and friend, Heather. Lucius must have known her from society parties back in the day and thought she'd be a perfect image to replace Hermione's in their heads. After all, Heather was gorgeous and memorable, someone that could very well break up a marriage. The false memory of her would be so overwhelming that the real memories of Hermione wouldn't slip through.

But Draco. He still remembered a brunette governess. Severus must have trusted that he wouldn't remember anything. And this was true. All Draco remembered was hide-and-seek and fluffy brown hair. It was…endearing. It was proof that it hadn't all been a dream and that she did make some kind of mark on the boy she'd cared for.

"Well, thank you for the tea," Hermione said, sitting down her half-empty cup. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Are you going to explain the jammies or just leave me wondering?" Draco asked, brow raised.

Hermione looked down at herself. "A particularly vengeful book had its way with me," she said dismissively. "You know how these books react to Muggle-borns."

"Indeed, they do. Get out while you still can."

Hermione smirked. "I'll be back tomorrow, though, won't I? I haven't finished."

"Well, perhaps if you're lucky, the next angry book will skip transfiguring your clothes and just take them off all together," Draco said with a mischievous grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you just love that?" She wondered how he'd feel if she dropped the bomb of her time travel on him and went into great detail about how she bathed him and changed his nappies. He'd probably be a humbled puppy dog after that.

"I would, but don't tell my father," Draco said, leading her out of the library.

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"You're a Mu– Muggle-born, remember? He wouldn't appreciate my appreciate for your female form," Draco explained. "Which I do, by the way. Appreciate your form."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, half flattered and half perturbed. "I don't think I could appreciate your appreciation."

"And why is that?"

Because I was your bloody nanny? Because I slept with your father? Because I, apparently, made your parents' marriage worse than it already was?

"Like you said," Hermione said slowly, "your father wouldn't like it."

No, she thought. Lucius wouldn't like it one bit.

Hermione realized she still had the journal in her hand. "Do you mind if I borrow this?" Hermione asked.

Draco said, "Keep it. Nothing special about it."

Oh, how little he knew.

The End

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~