It's Friday. Here we are. Thank you a million for sticking with me for this. Sorry for the short chapter, but I promise it's packed!


Watching him go hadn't been an easy feat, but Hermione insisted that he stay the night at home so his mother wasn't alone. After tucking Scorpius into bed, and listening to all the stories he had to tell about Narcissa, Hermione crawled into bed herself.

Her thoughts were lousy company.

Did Narcissa recognise her? Had she known about the relationship between Hermione and her son? More importantly, had she approved? Though when Hermione stopped to ask herself whether it mattered if the woman cared, she realised that it didn't.

Draco had told her he loved her. As far as declarations of love went, it had been one that made her so dizzy she could barely think of it. The truth had been in front of her the entire time. He'd always felt so familiar and now she supposed she knew why.

Rolling onto her side, Hermione laid her palm across the space where Draco typically laid. She was asleep before she could wonder if she'd forget everything again by the morning.


Footsteps pounded behind her.

Bits of the castle crumbled around her until suddenly it wasn't only small pieces of stone chipping away. Large chunks of the walls began to splinter as spell after spell cracked against them, weakening the structure that was supposed to hold.

It had held for a thousand years.

It was supposed to hold.

Fingers curled in her jumper, and as Draco ripped her backwards, the wall gave way. "You're going to put me in an early grave," he hissed. "If no one else does first."

She wanted to tell him that his cynicism wasn't appreciated at the moment but there wasn't time. They stood at the edge of the courtyard and Hermione gripped his forearm. "Oh, God…"

Draco started to ask what was wrong, but he saw it just as she did.

Freezing in the middle of a battle wasn't an option, but there, cradled in Hagrid's arms, was her best friend. Harry's body was lifeless.

Draco tugged her back against him. "We have to go."

"What?"

A crowd had gathered. She recognised the dirt streaked faces of her classmates.

She watched them give up hope.

"I've always told you I was going to keep you safe, Hermione." Draco only said her name in certain situations. She turned to face him. "I care about this war, make no mistake about that, but I care about you so much more."

"I'm fighting for—"

"We're losing! And I'm not going to lose you in the process, too." He fumbled with his pockets. "Please, I have a way out."

A distinct cackle filtered through the crowd. It wasn't time. "You have to trust Harry."

"He's dead!" Draco snapped. His face drained of colour and his voice came back to him as an echo. "I have a portkey. Let me get you out."

They could be a proper family if she said yes. Hermione glanced around them. Would their child live if she said no?

Merlin, Draco didn't even know. She thought for sure that she would vomit then.

A proper family like she'd dreamed of if they ever got out of the war alive.

Her lips framed the words.

"I can't," Hermione whispered. "You know I can't."

He'd expected it. Draco knew her.

He liked to say that he'd always known her—even though it wasn't possible.

"After this..." Hermione made use of the spare moments as the crowd erupted into screams. "We'll make a proper go of it. You'll see."

Draco's fingers flexed around his wand. "I'm going to hold you to that, Granger."

Bellatrix screamed the same slur carved into her arm. Hermione found her in the crowd, her hair matted as she raised her wand and continued to scream. It was an incantation, one that Hermione had never heard before, but her wand was pointed directly at Hermione from across the courtyard.

Her husband was at her side, his mouth curved into a sneer, his finger skimming Bellatrix's sides.

Hermione reached for Draco with her free hand as she cast Protego, but her shield splintered.

He screamed for her—her name over and over and over again—as a thick purple mist enveloped her.

Spinning wildly out of control as the sound of the final battle dropped out from under her, Hermione landed in a clearing with a vicious snap to her bones.

Alone.

She was alone.

And she couldn't remember who had been screaming for her


A gasp tore free from her throat as she sat up, hunched over with the sheets pooled around her waist. Her eyes jerked to the door to make sure Scorpius hadn't woken. Had she been screaming? Her throat was raw.

Seconds ticked by and he didn't come to the door.

Her fingers trembled. She raised her hands to get a better look at them with the moonlight trickling in.

Tiny scars appeared on her knuckles first. They were from when they went on the run and she'd used her father's pocket knife to cut smaller branches in the Forest of Dean. Ron had given her shite then for how often she nicked her fingers. They dotted her knuckles—though, in truth, there weren't many marks. There was a slice from where Crookshanks had gotten her the first year she'd owned him.

Crooks!

Hermione slung her legs over the side of the bed and rushed out of the room. She sprinted down the stairs while trying to keep her footfalls quiet so Scorpius wouldn't grow curious.

"Crooks." She felt her way through the sitting room, taking care not to bang her leg against the coffee table. Hermione found her familiar in the windowsill, curled up with his cheek pressed to the glass. "You've always been here, haven't you?" She stroked the top of his head and he meowed. "You knew who Draco was all along, didn't you? Smart little guy."

She stepped back from the window, taking a long look around her home.

It felt like it belonged to someone else.

Pain sliced through her chest and she stumbled, ultimately falling to one knee. Feeling her chest through her thin top, she scrambled to pull it away from her.

It was horrifying to watch old scars form.

Remembering the Department of Mysteries wasn't terribly hard as she watched a deep purple gash crawl across her skin, just as wicked as she remembered.

"Bloody hell." Hermione panted. It emblazoned itself into her skin as if it had never left. It had been a heavily cast glamour. Dark magic, she suspected and she was sure she'd find the rest of her answers—or most of them, hopefully—with Draco.

She whispered his name to herself, ignoring the way the carpet burned as it slid against her knees.

She had so many questions and it was so overwhelming that she thought she might be sick. It wouldn't do her any good to vomit on her carpet. Help. She needed help.

Why had she insisted he go home tonight of all nights?

Her blood ran hot.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip to tamper a scream. "Fuck." Hermione rocked back on her haunches before lurching forwards in a full body spasm. With her forehead flush against the carpet, she dry heaved. Eventually, she sat upright and held up her arm, confirming her suspicions.

There was that ugly word again. It seemed she'd never be able to rid herself of it.

It was a cursed scar, but it seemed that regaining her memories had caused it to reopen. Blood rolled away from the crudely drawn letters as the floor swayed under her feet. Forcing herself to stand, Hermione clutched her arm.

Scarlet dripped to the carpet.

She watched the staircase as she slipped out the door, and let it close with a faint click behind her. Hermione shook as she hurried, each footstep more clumsy than the last. Heavily breathing, she banged on Draco's front door without consideration for the fact that it was nearly four in the morning.

It swung open.

Narcissa stood there and her eyes dropped to her arm. "Miss Granger?"

She'd deal with Draco's mother later. That was a conversation for another time.

"I'm bleeding out." Hermione's legs gave way, but the woman caught her.

Arms locked around her. "Draco!"

He burst into the room and cursed. "Hermione, what—"

She held up her arm, slumping into Narcissa's chest. "Voldemort," she whispered. "Bellatrix."

Draco barked for his mother to help her onto the sofa, and then told her where the potions were. "Hey." He pushed her hair back from her forehead. "You're going to be alright."

The corner of her lip twitched. "Because you're going to take care of me?"

"Just focus on staying awake right now, alright? I have blood replenishment potions and—"

"Scorpius is alone. Someone needs to be there with him in case he wakes up. There's blood in the living room."

Draco summoned his wand. Expecto Patronum. An otter sprung from the end of his wand, and she tried to sit up but he stopped her. "Clara, Hermione's regained her memories. Scorpius is alone. Please go."

Clara was a witch. It all made sense. Had she held any memory of magic before, Hermione imagined she would have pieced that together.

She wheezed. "Please send your mother away. I want—" Hermione coughed into her hand and it came away red. "Just us, please?"

He nodded. When she returned, Narcissa respected the request.

"Are you angry with me?" Draco asked.

Hermione found his hand as he tipped her head up and fed her a potion. "I'm furious, but not with you. What could you have done? I would have never believed you."

Faltering, Draco looked down at her. "Hermione, if I had told you, it would have killed you. This was a curse."

Of course. She swallowed a pain potion.

And another blood replenishment potion to match.

Chills rolled over her body and the hair on her arms stood on end. He told her she was in shock, but she already knew that.

"I have a question." The words rolled right off her tongue as he dabbed her forehead with a damp rag. "When you came here, and you loved me again, were you here for who I am, or who I've been?"

Honestly, they were all the same. Even to her, even now, as she tried to take things apart and put them back together, it all felt the same.

"I'm here because you've always been the best part of me." He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Any other questions?"

She blinked. "Do you know who did this to me? Was Bella the only one?"

"She had help. I don't know who it was yet."

Hermione swallowed, lacing their fingers together. "We're going to find them."

"We are."


I hope the pay off was worth the wait! Let me know what you think. I'll update Tuesday!

Fun fact, the title of this story came from the country song by Luke Combs, She Got The Best Of Me.

Talk to me here or on tumblr at mrsren96!