"Could it bring her back?"

"No," Hermione responded more forcefully than she had meant to, she saw Harry wince, "no," she repeated again, softer this time. "Of course not Harry, you know as well as anyone that no magic can truly raise the dead, you can bring back a shadow of who they were or you can reanimate a corpse but you can't really bring them back." She finished rather lamely, quoting their late headmaster.

"Then what-" Harry began, but this time it was Ron who interrupted him,

"-Mate, that was a longshot to begin with, I mean, c'mon Harry, you held the resurrection stone, you spoke to you parents and Sirius and Remus, you spoke to Dumbledore! You know that whatever Hermione's doing its got nothing to do with raising the dead mate."

Hermione flashed Ron a grateful look.

"Yeah Harry, the dead are well and truly dead, but right now," She took a breath, "right now we can protect the living."

Hermione excused herself soon after that awkward exchange, claiming she needed to get some rest before an early start the next morning. She sighed to herself as she crawled into bed thinking to herself, clearly that had been Harry's question, not Ron's, the driving force behind it had been emotional, had they asked Ron's question she was sure she would have ended up saying far more than she was comfortable with.

But she hadn't even really spoken about her research, because Harry really was way off, she wasn't trying to bring back the dead.

But yes she mused to herself as her eyes fluttered shut, bringing Lily Potter nee Evans would solve quite a few mysteries.

You see, all those years ago when she had sacrificed herself to save her son, it was her love for him that protected him from that killing curse, but the protection that continued to last until he turned 17, that was curious.

In loving her son Lily Potter saved his life once, but something else, something deeper had saved Harry time and time again when he encountered Voldemort, or bits of his soul.

The only conclusion that Hermione had been able to come to was that Lily Potter had somehow cast a blood magic charm on herself and Harry, and that somehow Albus Dumbledore had been aware of the charm, and knew that the only way to keep Harry safe would be for him to live with is aunt, a woman who shared his mothers blood.

But blood magic like so much else was looked down on by many in the wizarding community as dark magic, and it was by no means an easy feat to cast such a charm, so this led Hermione to another conclusion, Lily Potter had somehow been researching blood magic for some time before her death. How though Hermione couldn't be sure, she had scoured the Hogwarts library in search of what Lily might have been able to get her hands on but all she had found were a few vague references to Blood Locks in the restricted section but that hadn't been helpful.

Harry had told her and Ron that both of his parents had been wandless when Voldemort had killed them which led Hermione to yet another conclusion, Lily Potter had cast her blood magic charm before Voldemort entered their home that Halloween night, because as skilled as a witch or wizard may be to cast a spell as complex as a blood charm without a wand for the first time was a recipe for disaster.

Now Hermione didn't share the same views as her fellow witches and wizards when it came to things like blood magic, she believed that the knowledge shouldn't be restricted just because some people had used it for nefarious purposes and that it was intent that ought to be condemned as evil and not action.

After all, she knew a fair amount about what many considered to be the darkest of magics, horcruxes, but it wasn't like she was going to start running around killing people and dropping bits of her soul into heirlooms.

NUMBER 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE

"Sorry mate." Ron said as he stood up from their chess game to grab his cloak and leave,

"Don't worry about it Ron." Harry replied as he also stood up, accidentally crushing some of his fallen pieces underfoot, "You were right, we should've asked a more open ended question, it was Hermione, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from explaining it out then." He said wistfully.

"Yeah," Ron began carefully doing up the buttons on his cloak, "but can you honestly tell me that you were interested in her research beyond what it could do to let you talk to your mum?"

Harry looked up at his friend slowly, Ron was as always a few inches taller than Harry and it was their years of friendship that let Ron be far more perceptive with him and Hermione than he was with anyone else. And in that moment even though Ron stood there uncertain if he had just upset Harry by questioning him, Harry felt a great rush of affection for his two best friends, the two people who had stood there beside him through everything.

"No." He finally answered, "no, I just, I know I'm not the only one who lost people because of Voldemort but some days I wish I didn't drop that stone out there you know?"

"Yeah," Ron answered a little more quietly, a little more wistfully, "I do." A lot of them had lost people in the war and there would always be a part of Ron that wished he could have held that resurrection stone just once, to say goodbye to Fred.

"And then when Hermione started asking about my mum and everything, I guess I just, just wanted to feel closer to her you know? It's because of her that I'm even alive right now, she's saved my life more times than I can count but I've never even really met her. It's just an odd feeling is all, to owe one person so much but to know that you'll never be able to thank them, to know that they will never know how it all worked out."

"She knows, Harry, she knows." Ron answered simply before stepping into the emerald flames of the fireplace and wooshing off.

And even though Harry knew that Ron had only said that to make him feel better he took comfort in his best friends words and began climbing the stairs to go to bed.

Hermione might be annoyed with him about this but in the end she was his best friend and he couldn't imagine that there was anything she wouldn't forgive him for.

MALFOY MANOR

Draco Malfoy paced between the great stacks on books and scrolls in the library of the Malfoy Manor.

His Manor.

His house.

He lived there now, and as the sole descendant of Lucius Malfoy, all of this was his. After the war his father had been sentenced to Azkaban for crimes committed for Voldemort, while Harry Potter himself defended his mother and him in court. Draco grimaced at the memory of sitting in that chair, his mother next to him, rings of people looking down at him from their high benches, and Harry Potter stood in front of him, painting the picture that both he and his mother were as much victims of Lord Voldemort as anyone else was.

He hated that word; victim.

Hated it more than he hated anything that it made him sound weak. Hated it more than the fact that he currently owed both his life and his mothers to Harry Potter and his little friends.

Because Draco Malfoy was a proud man, and he hated that he owed his freedom to the boy he had spent much of his school life tormenting. Because deep down Draco knew that Potter was right, that his life had been ripped apart by Voldemort, but somewhere a little closer to the surface it was easier to pretend that he was better than Harry Perfect Potter.

It felt right to laud that selfsame superiority over Potter and his friends the same way he had when they were all schoolmates.

But tomorrow morning Draco would have to swallow his pride, he would have to swallow his pride and ask Harry Potter for help.

Draco visibly shuddered at the thought,

merlin forbid he thought, I leave this world with a little bit of dignity.

AUROR HEADQUARTERS - MINISTRY OF MAGIC

"Sir?" Blaise called out as he walked into Kingsley Shacklebolt's office,

"Yes, Zabini?" The former minister asked from where he sat behind his desk reviewing his notes. After the battle of Hogwarts Kingsley had been named temporary minister of magic but had returned to the auror department as quickly as he could, appointing his long time friend and colleague Emmaline Vance to the position.

"Sir, I've just got a report of dementors near a muggle dwelling in Essex."

"How many?" Kingsley asked standing up quickly, cursing himself, today of all days the auror department was understaffed,

"Three, I think sir." Blaise replied, "I can't be sure, reports keep coming in."

"Alright then," Kingsley said authoritatively, I will take Stokes and Lopez down there, you coordinate with MLE and meet us there as soon as you can. Send a message to Potter or Weasley, someone needs to be in the office in case anything else happens or the situation worsens."

"Yes sir!" Blaise cried, already rushing out of the office to scribble a note to Ron, this was supposed to be his shift after all.