So, my cat passed away last night. He was 12 and sweet and cuddly. My mom brought him home when he was 8 weeks old, and he was the best Christmas present ever. He had a thing for my bathmat (because he obviously appreciated my love of all things pink) so I've been crying every time I go in there. I'm either gonna have to move or start using the bathroom at the gas station. I'm only half kidding about that...I think.

Chapter 12
Hermione sat in the middle of her now empty living room. The movers had already been by to collect her furniture that would go to the house. The local church had collected donations the day before. Draco had taken the last of her boxes when he left with the movers. She was alone in an empty space that was no longer hers. She felt...content, she decided. Moving on felt good. Moving on felt right.

She didn't know how long she sat there - twenty minutes, half an hour, half the day - when Draco returned to bring her back to the house. Their house. A smile lit her face when he sat down beside her. He was sweaty and tired, but happy to sit. Hermione leaned against him despite his warnings. "You smell," she stated.

"Figured I'd shower when we get home," he replied. "All the furniture is in place, and we've got a few boxes that need unpacking. What do we do about your...the other room?"

"Close the door and never open it again," she suggested, only half joking.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This might be the entirely wrong time to ask this, but are you sure moving into your parents' house is a good idea?"

"Would you rather get a job?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Shaking his head, he got to his feet and looked down at her. "Are you doing this, moving there, for me or for you?" he asked. "Because, and I don't mean to sound selfish, but you could have lived there this whole time. Then I mention my money trouble, and you decide you're moving."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I couldn't stand the thought of being there alone?" she retorted, standing as well. He still towered over her, but it didn't faze her. She had the meaner right hook. "Or that I hadn't considered living there until I had money problems? This move isn't about you, Draco. Or maybe it is, in some way. I don't know."

He pulled her to him, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Let's just be together. You and me. I don't care where we live as long as I don't lose you."

"You won't," she promised as she kissed him. "Can I ask you something?" Draco nodded and moved his lips to her neck. "Do you love me?"

He pulled back to reveal furrowed brows and confused gray eyes. "Of course I do," he replied. "You know I do."

Hermione shook her head to clear her addled mind. "No, I mean do you love me?"

Smiling, he cupped her face in his hands and whispered, "Yes."

"Reckon we should be worried about Mione being with Malfoy all the time?" Ron asked as he and Harry strolled the streets of Diagon Alley.

His raven haired friend shook his head. "No, I don't think we need to worry," he replied. "I talked to Malfoy, and he really cares about her. He's not gonna hurt her."

Ron's face reddened angrily. "And if he does?" he demanded, stopping in his tracks to glare at Harry. "Say he hurts her. What do we do then? How are you gonna feel knowing you didn't try to put a stop to this...this...whatever it is that's going on between them?"

"They're friends," Harry said with a shrug. "Would you rather she be alone?"

"I'd rather she stay away from Death Eaters," Ron grumbled. "She can have all the friends she wants, just not him."

They entered the slowly rebuilding Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the shop owned by Ron's brothers and now run by the surviving twin. "I think you're jealous," Harry stated with a proud smile on his face. They approached the checkout counter where George stood ringing up a customer. He relayed their conversation to the twin. "What do you think?"

George bagged the item and handed the customer his receipt. "I think the war changed a lot of people," he said, staring pointedly at his younger brother. "And I think Hermione's a better judge of character than anyone else we know. If she trusts Malfoy, then I don't see the problem."

Ron scowled, a retort ready on his lips. "No," George cut in before his younger brother could speak. "Yeah, Malfoy was a complete git to her in school, but he's not anymore. I saw them together after Christmas, and they're happy together. You, on the other hand, were a git to her in school, and you haven't changed. Want to use Fred's death as an excuse to be a belligerent, good for nothing arse? Go ahead, but I'm not dealing with it. And apparently she isn't either."

The two younger men stood with open mouths as the redheaded shop proprietor left. "I don't think I've ever seen George get angry," Harry said, awed by the new side of his friend. "Really put you in your place, eh, mate?"

Ron grumbled and walked away. With him out of sight, Harry entered the back room, cordoned off by a velvet, magenta curtain. George sat on a low stool he'd pulled up to his work table and stared at Harry without really seeing him. "Fred was working on new and improved Daydream Charms before he..."

Harry perused the shelves, fingering ingredient bottles and discarded products that didn't sell. "I tried one for the first time after the war," Harry said. "I saw my parents again, thanked them for everything. Your products really are brilliant."

"Was I out of line?" George wondered when Harry turned his attention back to him.

"Not at all," Harry assured him.

"I'm glad she found someone else," the redhead said, fiddling with a pair of tweezers. "She didn't deserve to deal with the brunt of his anger all the time. It's good she got out when she did. Sometimes I wish I had the guts to leave like Malfoy did."

Harry leaned back against the shelf and sighed. "Moving to the muggle world doesn't erase what's happened," he replied. "You still live with the deaths and the loss and the nightmares. You just do it somewhere else."

Draco twitched and stirred, shaking the bed and waking Hermione. He whimpered, and when she looked at him, she saw tears on his cheeks. "No," he muttered. "No, leave her alone. Don't hurt her. I'll do anything."

She touched his shoulder. "Come back, Draco," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

He turned over, his eyes still closed, but he managed to grasp her wrists tightly as he laid on top of her. "Please, Draco," she pleaded. "Come back to me." She ignored the pain in her wrists as she continued her mantra, willing him to awaken.

"No. You killed her!" he shouted, squeezing Hermione's wrists until she was sure they were bruised.

She shook her head, struggling to keep the tears from her eyes. "Draco, please wake up," she said. "Please. I love you. Please wake up."

And his eyes opened.