Author's notes: Gods, I can't possibly keep Draco and Hermione apart for any longer. How did I manage to make their love so painful to write? Here's the rest of the Interlude. Enjoy. - M.

Interlude (II): His heart, her stone

Draco sighed and passed the empty glass back to Jacque with a few galleons more than he needed to - an extra tip to the bartender for his discretion. He didn't even look back at Harry, just pulled on his hood and stood up to leave. Even though he didn't intend it to be an exchange for his freedom tonight, Draco did agree that having Hermione see him right now would be a bad idea, or at least, unbearable even for him.

Hermione had just walked into the restaurant and was looking around for Harry when she noticed the man in the hood. She froze, realizing that he was a Death Eater. There was no mistaking it, he was wearing the characteristic dark robes. Even though the French crowd in the room seemed oblivious to the implications, any British person would have been able to recognize a Death Eater in their hood and their cape from a mile away. She palmed her bag where the wand was poking onto the fabric, but he walked pass her, not even seeming to acknowledge her existence.

It tortured him, to walk right pass her, to not even be able to reach out to her. He could sense her fear even from under his hood. Time seemed to slow down as he glanced at her. She didn't recognize him. But of course, his face was hidden in the shadows. Her hair was tied into a bun on the back of her head and she was wearing formal clothing - she must have come straight from her conference. Draco noticed the strands of wavy hair that framed her face... just as alluring as it was more than a year ago. Nothing seemed to have changed, and yet, he felt the infinite distance between them. His stomach wrenched when she glanced away from him in discomfort. It just wasn't fair; it took him all his effort to look away from her. The door opened about ten steps away from him as another customer walked in. The cool autumn breeze swept in, and in that moment he caught the scent in her hair. It was a light jasmine scent, certainly not the fragrance he remembered her to wear. Some things do change.

His rich marine scent hit her like a wave with the wind and her pupils widened. Flashing images suddenly filled her mind - fields of yellow flowers, summer rain on her skin, the hem of a twirling red dress, familiar laughter from a charming husky voice and strands of blonde hair dripping in the rain - but they dissipated so quickly that she didn't even have time to gather her thoughts. The hooded man had already left the room. She turned around, lingering onto a strong nostalgia that she couldn't quite place. She forgot his scent as soon as it hit her.

"Hermione."

She turned around absently and saw her husband at the bar, looking at her. What was that expression on his face...? He looked sad.

"Harry," she exhaled, "I just got here. Who was tha—"

"Hm?" he turned away from her and rocked the ice in his glass with a distant look on his face. He looked utterly unconcerned, though he shuffled uncomfortably.

"The hooded—He looked familiar."

Harry shrugged, and before she could push further, Layla burst through the door.

"SURPRISE!"

"Layla!" They hadn't expected her to be here.

And Ron and Jenny arrived behind her as well. "It's as if we've never left home, guys. What's the point?" Ron joked.

Jenny gave Hermione the warmest hug, "Dear, you look so pale. What's wrong? How was your presentation?"

Hermione barely heard her question. She got lost in Jenny's dark tresses as she received her motherly hug. What was it? Something about the man who just... What was that familiar cologne that he wore? Hermione tried to stay focused, "Oh... oh it's not till Sunday. I just met with my advisor and his close friends," her mind stayed with the hooded man and the strange affinity she felt to him, or someone that resembled him.

He really did look like a Death Eater. Or was I wrong?

Her hand subconsciously reached up to the ring on her neck. Harry noticed, but didn't say a thing. He just went back to his alcohol, knowing then that she had remembered something. A chill ran up his spine. If she had seen his face earlier...

He was startled when Layla slapped the glass out of his hand.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure we banned you from alcohol for good," she demanded.

The remaining liquor spilled onto the counter and Layla apologized to the bartender hastily for making a mess. Jacque was just happy that the intense atmosphere earlier was over.

"I behaved," Harry answered laconically. Jacque almost snorted a laugh but contained himself. That would be inappropriate.

Layla frowned at Harry's strange attitude, but she didn't say anything just yet. Either way, soon Ron was demanding so much attention from all of them that Harry and Hermione had to catch up with their friends. Nobody messed with a hungry Ron Weasley.

Outside, Draco had quickly hid into an alleyway when the rest of Potter's company arrived. After he was sure that the Weasleys and Layla had not noticed him, he discreetly went up to the restaurant window and looked in. He knew he should have walked away by now to be safe, but he simply couldn't bear to. She was at arm's length only a moment ago, and now...

He saw her reach up to touch the ring on her necklace and Draco thought his heart would stop. She still had his ring. Did I trigger some memory in her just by walking pass her? Did she remember—

He turned away; he had to leave. It was simply way too much take.

x x x

"Hermione?"

A concerned Professor Squillerthorn tapped her on the shoulder.

"Oh! Oh... Professor, I'm so sorry," she came to finally after the third time he called her name, and apologized profusely in embarrassment, "I was lost in thoughts."

It was the second full day since she had been in Paris, and they were in the middle of a lecture until a moment ago. Now the lecture had ended and Hermione was still sitting in her seat as though she was listening to some nonexistent lecture. Everyone else had gotten up to leave.

Squillerthorn smiled kindly and patted her on the back, "It's good to work hard, but you look exhausted. Have you been sleeping well?"

Usually she lied when he asked the same question. Indeed, Squillerthorn often asked her about her sleep patterns because of her puffy eyes in the mornings. She had forgotten her hand-made cream this trip. Instead of her usual cheerful reply, she shook her head. She didn't feel like lying today.

The professor almost seemed relieved that she was being honest with him.

"You should get out of these dusty lecture halls for the day. You have free time until later tonight... why don't you go take a walk? Your presentation isn't until tomorrow."

She nodded and accepted his kindness. There were optional lectures they were going to during the afternoon, but in her dazed state she certainly wasn't going to absorb anything useful right now. Instead she noticed that she was a little hungry. Harry was working for the day, so she decided to look for a restaurant on her own. She wanted some alone time right now anyway.

x x x

Some time earlier, Draco had left home for a walk too to avoid Blaise's machine gun-like interrogation. Draco found his roommate way too excited about his love life. Despite how close he had become with Blaise these days, he still didn't feel like sharing his innermost thoughts with him. Hermione was truly an exception. He had very few friends he trusted enough to pour his heart out to.

The unfamiliar scent in her hair, and her hand on her chest turning his ring—images of her from the night before were stuck in his mind; her scent was so vivid still. He cursed himself when he found that he was standing in front of that same restaurant again. It had only been last night that Potter had warned him to stay the hell away from Hermione for good. And here he was, already where he might just run into her. He walked closer to the restaurant window, remembering how he had stood at the exact same spot last night when he thought that she might have remembered something about him. Draco drove that positive thought out of his mind for the umph-time that day. He didn't like being hopeful, especially when disappointment was imminent. Having tasted that burning pain so many times with his hopes to leave the Dark Lord, he had enough. It was a wonder why He had let him live after what happened with Hermione. Even his seemingly safe state right now worried him. He'd almost rather get it over with and stay as close to danger as possible. Better know you're doomed and accept it than hope for something and not get it. That was his policy. And yet, his heart doubted his viewpoint constantly. He missed her badly.

After being lost in thought for a while, Draco found himself still staring at the restaurant window. His eyes wandered to a poster taped onto the glass.

"An enchanted trail, huh," he reiterated the words on the poster absentmindedly. It was advertising a group of hiking trails in the woods just outside the city that led to something called the Wall of Confessions.

"Sounds phony enough."

A bell tinkled and the door to the restaurant opened. A young man's voice came from within, "It's actually a very nice trail, sir."

It was Jacque, the bartender from the night before, "Hi."

Draco greeted him with a wordless nod.

"I'm sorry, you just seemed so transfixed by the poster. I thought you might want to know more about it."

The bartender was overly apologetic in a way, though it was subtle. Draco could only imagine all the thoughts that had been going through this stranger's mind during his verbal grapple with Potter the night before.

"So," Draco decided to act like he was unaware of the bartender's unease, "Wall of Confessions? Sounds oddly religious."

Jacque smiled, "You sound skeptical."

Draco snorted a laugh, "Not really into theology here."

"Neither am I," the bartender shrugged, "You might still like it, it's a very... therapeutic walk. I recommend it."

Draco wondered how much of Jacque's recommendation came from his knowledge of Draco's unrequited love life.

Nah, he said to the bartender as he walked away. But then, he glanced at the poster one too many times. Jacque noticed, but he didn't say anything this time.

x x x

Hermione wasn't sure why she chose this place again. There were plenty of diners around; she didn't need to return to the same restaurant for another meal, two days in a row. But there was something about it. Something about the man from last night...

She was certain that Harry had noticed the hooded man. A sharp Auror like him couldn't possibly miss such an obvious sign of danger. And yet, when she confronted Harry that night after dinner, when they were alone in their hotel room, Harry acted like he had no idea what she was talking about. But his eyes told her that he was lying, and she was close to flipping out on him. There was too much that he was hiding from her. It killed her inside to have to figure it all out on her own. Harry didn't seem to enjoy hiding things from her either. It bothered her. Bothered her so much that she almost raised her voice at him during their argument.

But she didn't. Instead she internalized her anger and went back to contemplating why her husband and her friends all wanted to hide her two months of lost memory from her. She ordered a sandwich mechanically; she was so lost in thoughts that she barely registered the waiter serving her.

He was a Death Eater...

It reminded her of Draco Malfoy, the missing piece in her memory. Who was he to her? Both Harry and Ron seemed particularly displeased with him. She was Head Prefects with Malfoy, and the fact that even that part of her memory was missing... It was simply odd. She must have interacted with him one to one all through her seventh year, in some form or another. They shared a common room for Merlin's sake. And then apparently she had seen him, last year, and yet somehow she couldn't recall a single thing about him. Every time she tried too hard, her head hurt. She'd get drowsy, as if there was some mechanism that prevented her from remembering. It was frustrating, and she was getting a little dizzy right now.

"Here's your sandwich, miss."

Hermione realized she was rubbing her temples rather obviously. She sat straight, trying to look proper and not irritated. She certainly didn't want the waiter to think that she was dissatisfied with his service already.

"Thank you, ... sir," she glanced at him, and, for the first time, noticed he was the bartender from the night before, "Oh, hello again."

Jacque smiled at her friendly, as if it didn't bother him at all that she hadn't noticed him before, "Here for the conference? I heard there's one at the convention center this weekend."

She smiled, "I'm surprised that you know. It's quite an obscure group of scholars actually."

Hermione might still be fervently in love with her area of study, but she had learned not to impose on others her knowledge as she had in her younger years. She had learned her lesson being too bossy and snobbish around people. It scared them away.

"Taking a break from meetings and lectures, then?"

She smiled again, "Yes, I..." she frowned a little, remembering her problems, "I've just been so... distracted... I felt it'd be impolite to stay."

Jacque regarded her sympathetically.

"You did look a little lost in thoughts earlier, miss."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." She took it as that he was offended.

"No, that's alright," he waved his wand and sent her a warm mug of herbal tea, "This is on the house. It might help you relax."

She felt so welcomed. Hermione felt that he'd be a good person to ask about possible plans for her afternoon, and so she did. Jacque was about to answer except another customer needed to place an order. He excused himself for a moment; while Hermione tried the tea he served her.

It was exactly what she needed at that moment. She felt warmer and much calmer. Jacque watched her from his bar counter as she ate. He was sure now - she was the woman the two men were fighting over just the night before. He noticed the ring on her finger, and also noticed the hiding bulge at her collar - the other ring - the one that had her distracted all night long during dinner with her husband and her friends. Jacque didn't like being meddlesome, but there was something so affecting about the way she looked. The way she looked so... sad. He wasn't sure what else he could do for her other than being hospitable.

She seemed to have finished her meal, so he got up from his seat to clear the table for her.

"Uh... Jacque," she said, looking at his nameplate and then his face.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he swiftly removed the empty plate from the table.

"Do you have... more of this?" she pointed at the empty teacup.

He grinned and nodded, "Certainly."

He soon returned with a new pot of tea for her. She looked like she was about to fall back into her trance; her hand had moved back to her neckline, turning the ring again.

Jacque decided he could ask about it. He was curious, after all.

"Is that from your husband?"

Hermione looked up in surprise and then looked down at the ring on her necklace and back at Jacque's face.

"Oh, no... Well, I actually don't know where it's from," she undid the chain clasp and showed him the ring on her palm. He dared not touch it, though he got a close look when she turned the ring for him to see. "I think I've had it for a long time though... You see the swirl?" She pointed at the symbolic carvings on the ring, "Sometimes, I think it looks like a snake."

Jacque's eyes shined a little. He thought about the man in the cloak the night before. A snake would fittingly describe him. He noticed that she seemed distracted again. Quickly, he summoned something that he wanted to show her earlier before she could get lost in her thoughts once more. Hermione looked up at him inquisitively.

He slid a map across the table to her, "You were asking about places to visit earlier..." he said, showing her directions to what looked like a nature reserve outside of the Paris metropolis, "It's about an hour ride from here."

He flipped the map around to a close-up of a forest, "I recommend this walk," he drew a line along a trail with a thick red marker, "the breeze is nice and the trees are turning shades of red just right now." He drew a big cross at the end of the trail.

Jacque winked at her as she took the map in her hands, "I think you'll like this place."

x x x

"I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in."

Enchanted trails, the trail sign said on top of the quote that caught her eye first. It was a thought-provoking line. Hermione could vaguely retrace to the man who had said the quote almost a century ago. Possibly an American naturalist she had read somewhere. Jacque was right; the outdoors was good for her.

She looked up at the trees and their wavering red, orange and gold before her, and sighed. The woods were breezy and relaxing. She looked at the cross that Jacque had drawn at the end of the trail on her map. On the backside she found a description of the location he had marked off for her - Wall of Confessions - the short paragraph below the name was strangely enigmatic:

"An exposed serpentinite boulder for those who are looking for a serene location for personal revelations and conversations. There are countless trails that lead here. All solitary, but none stays the same."

She soon understood the meanings between the lines. The forest moved around her as she slowly strolled through the woods. The whole place was enchanted so you'd never meet a soul during your walk. It was, truly, solitary. For once, Hermione felt like she was allowing herself to enjoy her surroundings without a care for time. She listened to the crackling of dry branches at her feet, the crisp sound of dried leaves as they danced around her. The birds chirping somewhere above, and the gentle wind in her hair. She untied her hair and allowed them to flow freely behind her, just like her thoughts, flowing freely without her worrying about bothering the people she cared for—

—A serpentinite. Draco had not read descriptions of the place on some silly map, but he knew the rock well enough to recognize it with close inspection. Draco's knowledge of botany and mineralogy was extensive for someone who didn't choose to pursue a career in Potions, but he certainly wasn't a top Potions student at Hogwarts for nothing. The mottled green glaze was easy for him to distinguish from other viridescent minerals. It helped too that he had a strange affinity to the almost milky, glazed surface of the towering boulder before him... like the scales of a snake, smooth but lamellar. And the locals called it the Wall of Confessions. Do people confess here? Like in some religions, where people confess to their gods? Maybe they believed in a deity that lived beneath this silky surface... He touched the rock; it felt cold and slippery, like him. He kneeled at the foot of the boulder, overcome by pain - the pain of not being able to share his grief with anyone. He had come here in the end for some time to himself, despite his show of indifference to Jacque earlier.

It hurts so bad.

He tried to vocalize his thoughts, but it came out in a broken whisper.

"It hurts..."

And yet.

"I was a coward, wasn't I? I didn't do it for her..." he looked up at the outcrop before him, as if it'd speak to him if he stared long enough. It looked mountainous from his angle.

"I did it because I was scared, you know... It wasn't out of some bullshit charitable reasons. I was just scared of change. I found the one thing that- that made me happy, and I slipped out of it like melting ice in her hands... and went right back to my old life."

I gave up my one chance to change things.

He knew he was a fool—

—When Hermione saw the glassy green tower of rocks at the end of her trail, she knew this was the place Jacque had wanted her to see. Its magnificence took her breath away. The deep and intricate green reminded her of the scent the hooded man at the restaurant was wearing- she couldn't explain why. She palmed the rock lightly, as if it would melt at her hands, though she didn't understand why she felt that way either. It felt pleasantly cold. Hermione closed her eyes and pressed the side of her face onto the smooth surface. There was something so stirring about the way it felt on her skin, she felt like she could stand there forever—

—"I wish I told her," just how much he loved her. Or maybe he didn't. He hadn't lived up to his feelings for her, why should such powerful words be worthy of his lips? It would be disrespectful to say them out loud, ever. But he knew even that wasn't true—

—She opened her eyes, startled by the voice she had heard—

—He knew that he had indeed loved her, loved her enough to let her go. He raised his fist, angered by himself. "Everyone else moved on..." he glided his hand along the rock surface, "Why can't I?"—

—She was certain now, though the voice was strangely metallic, as if it came through a medium.—

—His hand dropped without purpose, and a deep sigh escaped his lips as he turned around and leaned his back onto the cold surface. He didn't mind the dust on his trousers from the earth, his eyes wandered among the wavering trees. He felt foolish for feeling sorry for himself. He had chosen his own path; there was no one to blame. It's so oddly beautiful here. Beautiful in such a sad—

"Hello?"

Draco nearly jumped at the voice. He looked around, but there was no one there. In fact, it almost sounded like the voice came from behind him, from within the-

"Anyone... there?"

His eyes widened, positive the voice was indeed coming from within. Their voice had a peculiar sheen to it too, in a really unnatural way.

"Who are you...?" he asked, a little uncomfortable with the idea that, whoever it was, they most likely had heard his profession.

Hermione was surprised to hear the other voice speak to her. So they could hear me too. She stumbled with her answer, suddenly anxious to disclose her real identity to a stranger.

"Just visiting... I didn't expect to see - or hear, in this case, I suppose, anyone. I'm sorry if I disturbed a... private moment."

She felt a little embarrassed, though it was nothing like how embarrassed Draco felt. He felt his cheeks burn at what this random person might have heard. He didn't move from his spot, back still against the boulder. Somehow he felt like if he turned around to the rock he'd come face to face with the trespasser, and he really didn't want them to see his face right now.

"Does my voice sound metallic to you too?" she asked again, a little more timidly this time.

He mumbled a yes, now understanding that his voice was changed too, like theirs. Well, that's one good thing. At least they wouldn't be able to tell immediately who he was. Not that anyone in the middle of the French countryside would recognize him, but it was always good to be cautious.

Hermione on the other side also sat down on the dry leaves at her feet, thinking to herself that this might be the 'personal revelations and conversations' that the map description was talking about. The other person was obviously not expecting a conversation here, but there was a certain anonymity to the way their voices travelled across. Unless she stayed near the rock surface his voice was almost a whisper. She leaned onto the rock, thinking back to what she had heard him say earlier. He was a man - a wizard, right? There was something about the way he spoke that suggested so, though Hermione wasn't sure. He sounded like he's in such pain...

"I couldn't move on either..." the words escaped her lips before she could think too much about what she was saying.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her words. She had heard him. Why he thought she was a woman— well, that was beyond his comprehension. It was just a hunch.

"What are you moving on from? Or not moving on from... I guess," he asked, not sure how much he was ready to engage in conversation with a stranger. Draco was tired to the bone - not physically, just... emotionally - he didn't mind the company, as long as they never found out about each other.

She looked up at the clear sky and wondered how she'd word it. Saying that she had lost her memory just sounded so... obscure, to a point that it'd seem like a lie. Well, why did that matter anyway? It wasn't like she was trying to gain his trust... or was she?

She tried an honest but vague approach.

"Something pretty drastic happened to me and my husband a while ago... Everyone around me's... trying to move on, but I can't. I feel like..."

A burden.

He thought he heard her unspoken words.

"How long have you been married?"

Was he married too? "It was our third year anniversary a few months ago."

"Congratulations?" Maybe she's about my age.

His questioning tone made her wonder too.

He took her silence as a no. Were all women unhappy with their marriages? He thought about Hermione. Was she unhappy before they saw each other at the opera? Probably not. Was she unhappy now?

"What's bothering you?" Draco had no idea why he bothered to ask, but he was starting to feel strangely sympathetic towards this stranger he couldn't see.

She picked up a dry branch and drew circles on the ground near her feet.

"Secrets..." she answered, realizing that was the real problem with her and Harry, "and they build up. It's like... you have to tell one lie after the other to protect the ones you said before." It wasn't just Harry. She lied too, so he'd stop worrying about her.

"Doesn't sound very healthy to me," Draco commented.

He was sure Potter had a lot to hide from Hermione. How was he to explain why he was sitting with a Death Eater at the bar without arresting him? Or what happened in the two months she had lost her memories even though he was definitely there with her?

"It seemed necessary at the time," she said, trying to justify her reasons, Harry's reasons.

Draco was thinking back to the same jealous man's threat-like words the night before.

"And I won't tell anyone where your heartstone is," he had said.

Huff. Draco looked at his fingernails absent-mindedly, scratching them against each other. It would be so easy for Potter to take his heartstone if he wanted to. Draco thought about what his invisible friend from over the boulder had just said.

It seemed necessary at the time.

Why was it necessary for Potter to keep the location of his rival's heartstone a secret?

"Are you married too?"

Draco looked up to the sound of her voice. He had forgotten for a moment that she was still there.

"No," he answered, "why?"

He might as well be, according to rituals anyway. He thought of his heartstone again.

Hermione shrugged, "I just wondered whether you'd understand if I explained why I think it was necessary."

"To lie?"

She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her, "Sometimes... you lie just to get along."

Just so everything stays the same, just so nothing drastic needed to happen.

Draco frowned, "That's dumb."

She frowned too now, a little offended. Words spilled out of her mouth even though she didn't really believe them, "Maybe you don't get it, but when you want to keep things the way they are, sometimes you have to smooth the wrinkles and move on."

"But you're not moving on," he pointed out.

She went silent. Draco was quiet too, thinking how he was a hypocrite for criticizing her. He himself had been living his life the exact same way. He wanted to apologize for jumping down her throat, but he was too preoccupied by his own thoughts. He thought of Hermione. Did she feel that way about Potter too? Suddenly he was curious about the woman on the other side of the boulder again. There was something so familiar about the way she spoke that made him comfortable talking to her. Probably because we'd never know each other anyway-

"Do you love him?"

She was quite surprised by his question. Hermione watched the wind blow a cascade of red and brown leaves off the trees and thought about it quietly.

Draco noticed how there was no answer from the other side. He didn't prompt her. He knew what that silence implied.

The longer she waited to answer, the less she wanted to speak up. She loved Harry, but something was stopping her from saying it. And something else flashed through her mind, a fragmented memory she couldn't place—

"—you love him."

She felt blood drain from her. The carpeted floor felt wobbly under her feet.

"Do you love me, Hermione?"

The scene dissolved into nothingness quickly.

When was that? Who was it?

"Have you heard of heartstones?"

Hermione's head jolted upwards at the sudden question. This guy must either be really scatterbrained or not used to communicating with others; he's so abrupt. She didn't blame him though; she was quite distracted herself. Hermione had also forgotten the metallic quality in her new friend's voice and was a little unsettled by it. Heartstones? Sound familiar...

Taking her hesitance as uncertainty, Draco filled her in, "It's the most important thing to a man... I'm sure your husband gave you something similar on your wedding." He pointed at his fourth finger on his left hand, as if she'd be able to see, "You have your wedding ring on you?"

She looked down at her ring finger and the ring that Harry had given her three years ago. It was a simple platinum gold band, but she was sure it was worth thousands of galleons. In fact, it was one of the Potter family's heirlooms that Harry had found in Gringotts not long before they got married. He thought it appropriate for her to have it. It was a simple ring but there was weight to its significance. Hermione wore it all the time.

"I do," she answered, turning the ring slowly on her finger. His question took her mind off the strange moment of recollection earlier that she failed to register.

Draco smiled. Not a lot of young couples wore their wedding rings these days. She might even have a real one at this rate.

"That's the modern replacement for heartstones... though wedding rings are only symbolic. Barely a handful of families still go through the full ritual."

He noticed that he didn't say "only 'pureblood' families" as he would have if it were his old self. For whatever it was worth, Hermione did change him for good.

She listened to his words attentively, though she still didn't understand, "How are heartstones different from normal wedding rings?"

Draco smirked to himself, "Well... first off, they don't need to be rings."

His thoughts went to Hermione, who would have probably looked up books and books about it by now if she were on the other side of this boulder listening to him. In fact, Hermione was frustrated that she didn't have a library at her arm's length right now. All this new information had miraculously managed to take her mind off her problems for the moment.

"Tell me more," she said eagerly.

He smirked again. Just as insistent as her, he thought.

"It's a long tradition of binding family heirlooms to the eldest sons. The longer the heir binds with the stone, and the stronger a wizard he is, the more powerful the heartstone. Eventually it binds with his soul."

Draco's thoughts went to his hearstone again. He thought of Hermione and the way she smiled at him when he gave her his ring. Did she know what it really meant? It was more than just a symbolic gesture for him...

"When the time comes..." he continued, sighing a little, "the heir can choose to give his heartstone to the one he loves. It's a... risky move, because if the stone gets in the wrong hands—"

It can destroy him.

She was silent, taking in the weight of his words. Her eyes were still on the ring on her finger, but her other hand crept up to her neckline—

"How do you know if you have someone's heartstone?"

Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically and sat up, "What, didn't your husband tell you?"

Well, I guess if she didn't even know about hearstones in the first place—

"Please tell me," she asked urgently. Thoughts were running through her mind at insane speeds. Her hand clenched around the ring on her neck now. What if...?

He was quite sure that she couldn't possibly have one if she didn't know. No man would ever give their life and soul to someone without telling—Well, I guess I did exactly that myself.

He sighed, "Exorior amores."

"Pardon?" She didn't hear him well.

Draco leaned onto the cold surface again and repeated, "Exorior amores is the spell. Just point your wand at the ring."

Hermione pulled out her wand and did as he instructed her to. She tried it on Harry's ring first.

"...Exorior amores."

Her ring glowed a little with her first try. She tried again, and it glowed a little more. She thought she saw a clear stone appear on the ring, like a diamond that lacked luster.

"Well? What color is it?" The voice on the other side of the rock sounded curious, almost impatient.

"It's… a clear glow," she could only say. Her ring changed back and forth between a simple golden band and a flashing stone as if it couldn't make up its mind.

Draco raised his eyebrows in amusement, "You have an immature one then."

"Immature?" The ring turned into its original appearance and stopped flickering; Hermione placed it back on her fourth finger.

"Yea, did he ever wear it before you got married?"

No. It was locked up in Gringott's until Harry got it for her on their wedding. It made sense. Harry didn't learn anything about family traditions from his parents because he lost them, before he could even speak. It wasn't surprising then that his heartstone was immature.

"That's probably why... It's too late for him to bind with it now."

Draco thought that her husband must be from a well-off and powerful family to have an heirloom that could have been a heartstone without the heir ever having to wear it. Most heirs had to wear theirs by the age of three so they could bind properly by the time they grow up. Her husband's obviously didn't bind properly, but it was still impressive that it even glowed.

Hermione on the other hand was distracted by her other ring. She unclasped the delicate silver chain and took the ring in her hand so she could see it clearly in the sunlight.

"Exorior amores."

Nothing happened.

Draco heard her chant the spell again. Why was she still trying?

"You need to mean it," he advised anyway.

Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn't ask questions. She thought about what the words meant. 'Exorior' was Latin for 'To appear', or 'To come forward'. 'Amores' was obviously a variant of the word for 'Love'. Amore. For love to come forward. She had to mean it.

She closed her eyes. Her mind was blank, erased of thoughts. The memories she couldn't access. The subconscious that rejected her constantly. How could she mean it? She didn't remember how the ring came to be, or whom it belonged to. But what if... Her mind conjured a photograph of Draco Malfoy that she had found among her old Hogwarts things. He was probably 17 or 18 in the photo, much younger and scrawnier than he would be right now—

Suddenly, the same scent she smelled the night before came back to her mind. A scent with such depth, a deep blue shimmering in the sunlight, a tinge of green... his silver grey eyes—

"Exorior… amores."

The glow blinded her. She gasped in surprise.

Draco was alerted by her suddenly exclamation, "What was that?"

He turned around to the rock for the first time and also looked up instinctively at the sky above the boulders. He saw an emerald shine somewhere far away. So she wasn't actually right behind him. These rocks... he touched the serpentinite again. Whatever charm was cast onto it, it was passing his words to her and back from so far away. Who was she? He became curious for the first time.

"It's... green," she whispered, her voice shivering.

Her fingers trembled too as the glow settled into a shimmer. An incredible green stone appeared in the place of the silver ring. Hermione squinted and tried to inspect it closely. The gem had tints of red streaks through its middle, floating in an ocean of sea green. It was beautiful. She described it to the man on the other side of the boulder in detail.

Draco had never seen his own heartstone before. He wasn't supposed to until the stone was properly bound to the woman of his affection. He almost wished he had shown Hermione before he made her forget forever. But that wouldn't have been right. It would've been dangerous for her if anyone managed to access her memory and got concrete evidence that she had his heartstone. The Dark Lord would be after her for it, knowing that it was still not genuinely bound to her because they were not married. And if the Ministry got to it instead... well, it'd destroy him for sure.

It suddenly became clear to Draco why the ancient dark wizard had kept him alive. He knew the Malfoys would have followed the ancient tradition religiously. As long as Draco was alive and unmarried, his heartstone was essentially 'up for grabs.' Strong emotions were associated with a man's heartstone, their will, their strengths and their weaknesses. When given to the one of their affection, it could form a lasting bond with the woman and protect them. When taken by someone who wished them ill, it could crush them and suck them of their energy and their powers. That was why Lucius, and now Draco, was sent after the Zabini heirloom. Blaise was the eldest son and also had a heartstone... and he was still single. If the Dark Lord were to collect enough of them—

"Do you have one? A heartstone..."

He came out of his trance. Draco realized beads of cold sweat were forming on his forehead with his revelation. Her question instantly made him think of Hermione again.

His response was slow. She thought she heard a frown in his voice.

"I did... but I gave it to... her."

She understood and sighed quietly, thinking what it must be like for him to have given it to someone he was no longer with. She turned the green stone in her hand. Green reminded her of Draco Malfoy. He was the epitome of a Slytherin. Hermione realized she had some recollection of the younger Malfoy now. He was Head Boy with her… and he had an awful temper and a fondness for sexual jokes. He used to call her... mudblood, like Zabini did. But he stopped one day. Why did he? And where was he now? Nobody had seen him since the time she had supposedly seen him. Were they friends? She turned the stone in her palm, admiring its luster. She was able to reveal its glow... and yet, she was sure the ring was not Harry's.

"I don't want anyone else to taint our memories."

She blinked. Something important that she had just remembered. What was it?

"Keep it close to your heart."

She stared at the stone now. Close to my heart... she said silently to herself. She thought she had a flashback again, and closed her eyes. His silver grey eyes, staring into hers-

A tear rolled down her cheek. Her heart reached out to her invisible companion. She wondered how close by he was, and who he was. Why was his heart broken? She didn't know why, but his situation sounded strangely familiar to her. The stone turned back into a silver ring. Hermione pulled it through the chain and put it around her neck again. Close to my heart...

"Do you regret it?" she asked, though she was still lost in thoughts.

On the other side he shook his head and answered without a doubt, "No."

Why would he? It would protect her, even if she didn't know about it.

"Do you... miss her?"

He was so taken off guard by her question; tears flowed from his eyes before he could stop them.

She heard his quiet tears and stayed silent respectfully.

For a while only the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves filled the silence. She closed her eyes, letting her subconscious take over.

"I thought then... maybe I've chosen all wrong." He had so many regrets, and so did she.

What did you do that was so bad? "You can choose differently now."

"But I can't undo what I've done."

"I miss him," she said.

Draco wiped the tears off his cheeks, not understanding. "Who?"

"Who?" She opened her eyes, not understanding his question either.

"You just said you 'miss him.' Who is it?" he asked again. Something about the way she said it suggested it wasn't her husband.

Hermione was confused. She remembered herself saying it, but she couldn't remember why, or for whom. The words had spilled out unconsciously.

"I... I don't know," she tried to remember, but instead, tears started streaming down her cheeks.

Draco heard her crying and snickered sarcastically. My, my, aren't we a confused pair. He looked up at a cloud that was passing by and tilted his head back so the top of his head was touching the cold stone surface behind him. He looked at the green, almost black, streaks of the rock, thinking about the woman with sweet brown eyes and wavy long brown hair. He missed her.

"Do you think," he asked now, as her crying had subsided, "do you think she misses me?"

It was a stupid question, he knew. Why would she know? She didn't even know who he was, much less whom he was in love with. It was a stupid question, but he had to ask.

Hermione sniffled and rubbed her eyes dry.

Golden meadows and silver grey eyes. They filled her mind and overpowered everything else when she tried to remember. And she longed for her lost memories- she longed for him. She didn't dare say it; she didn't even dare think it. She realized why it had hurt so much for so long. She was longing for someone that she couldn't even remember, and she couldn't deny it.

Stay with me, Hermione.

His voice - so filled with anguish. She had loved that voice. Loved the man who owned that voice.

The man on the other side sniggered again self-deprecatingly, and she heard him.

"It's alright," Draco sighed, "I wasn't really looking for an answer."

If he had loved me back... would he be asking the same question now too?

Hermione wiped the rest of her tears off her cheeks, "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about you."

He snorted an I-know.

She smiled at his sarcasm; he was such a bitter man. Like him...

Hermione imagined how he must think about his lost love all the time, without ever speaking of it, without ever telling the woman he loved about it. He had come here, into the middle of nowhere, not expecting company, just talking to a rock that supposedly wouldn't have answered to his silent pleas. And now he was asking her a question, a question he knew she had no answer to. But she had an answer. An answer not for him, but for someone who might be out there... thinking about her the way she was thinking about him.

"Whoever she is, she must think about you too."

He didn't understand why but her words were calming, like she was speaking the truth somehow.

Draco stood up; he had already exposed himself too much during this conversation. He should go.

"I have to leave now. Nice talking to you," he was genuine.

She was surprised by his abrupt farewell. Just as offhanded as his questions, he must be impatient.

She stood up too, looking around her even though she knew she wouldn't see him.

"You too..." she said, hoping he was still there to hear her, "Thank you."

He touched the rock from his side, smiling a little, "You too. I don't know why, since really, nothing has changed but… I feel a lot better now. I hope you figure things out on your end."

She smiled at his sincere words, "I wish you the same."

She wanted to ask for his name, but it didn't seem appropriate. They had spoken to each other with the unspoken agreement of anonymity. She'd rather not make it awkward now.

Draco looked up at the towering boulder and the reddening sky above it. He had many regrets throughout his life, but he knew there was one thing he wasn't sorry for. He raised his hand to his chest and touched the tiny bottle hanging from a chain at his neck, the golden swirl of memories that belonged to her. He wasn't sorry for still holding her dear to his heart, he wasn't sorry for having ever fallen for her, and if she couldn't remember... at least he still had a part of her that he knew she loved.

Hermione looked up at the sky, somehow knowing he was looking at it too. The clouds floating by were a spectacular shade of pale red, grey and blue. The late autumn wind blew across her cheeks and she closed her eyes.

Bittersweet seasons
Mistake a warm winter for spring
Seems like I'm best at leaving
When leaving is not the best thing

You couldn't help it if you needed more than I could give
I knew you felt me leaving long before I ever did
That's just the way it goes. Now...

I call you misplaced, but never a waste of my time
Everybody's gonna make mistakes
But you'll never be one of mine

- "Bittersweet" by Sara Bareilles