A/N—Hi everyone, thank you so much for all your amazing reviews! You are my favorite people. Here is your warning for smut I hope their reunion is all you wanted it to be.

The next update is called The Room of Hidden Things and will be updated on 04/05.

PS I found a wonderful person (LKat719) who is going to alpha/beta for this story. Just wanted to provide a heads up. We aren't changing the plot on previous chapters, only revising grammar.

Chapter 21: The Reunion

December

Year 6

Hermione was dumbfounded, "Are you kidding me." She said, less like a question and more like an incredulous statement.

She felt her blood boil beneath her skin.

"You haven't talked to me for MONTHS—not only that, you've actively ignored and avoided every attempt I have had to contact you—and you think you have the right to any aspect of my life?!" Her voice was raising each word until she was practically screaming at him.

"Yes, McLaggen! Why do you even care who I kiss? It's not as if you're my boyfriend." She spat out, months of anger and frustration rushing out of her all at once.

Hermione felt herself come undone, she wanted to hurt him so badly, as badly as he had hurt her, "How dare you? You have no right! I can snog—" she snarled, "—and sleep with anyone I want and there's nothing you can say about it."

He flinched.

"You didn't," his voice trembled, "you're just saying that."

She tilted her chin up at him, trying unsuccessfully to steady herself on her broken heel, "Even if I did, it'd be none of your business. I've learned a lot about myself these past few months."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "I. Don't. Need. You."

Draco deflated before her eyes.

"I know." He muttered.

"I deserve better than you." Her hands balled into fists at her side, her chest heaving at every word.

"I know. You do."

Her lips shook, "Why won't you fight back?!" She looked up at him, angry tears filling her eyes, "Fight back!"

He gently caught her hands in his, "I won't fight you, love."

She winced at the word.

His eyes flickered down to her chest and back up to her eyes, "Where's your locket?"

"Granger. Where is your locket?" He asked again, practically inaudible.

"Where is your girlfriend?" She challenged back, her voice shaking as she ripped her hands out of his grasp.

He rubbed his forehead with his hand tensely; his jaw clenched and unclenched, "What are you talking about?"

"I heard all about you and Pansy this summer at the manor." Her face contorted in disgust, "Is that why you were too busy to talk to me? Too busy to answer a single message to dump me properly? To let me know that you moved on?"

She spat out each syllable, "Too busy fucking Pansy? What did you have her in our—in your bed? In the garden? In the forest by the lake? Is that where you bring all your witches?"

Draco visibly recoiled at her words, "Have you gone completely mental?!" he laughed almost maniacally, "You think that I, what, spent my summer romancing witches and laying out by the lake? As if I wasn't torn apart every second I was away? Like I can even breathe without you? Fuck. I've been drowning since the moment I stepped off the train."

Hermione faltered, her anger dissipated into confusion, "What happened last summer?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then make me understand—you wouldn't talk to me, how am I supposed to know anything?"

He swore under his breath, "You are supposed to know me, Granger," he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. A piece of hair fell over his eyes from the gesture; she fought the urge to reach for it.

Her chest clenched.

"I'm not with Pansy. How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want Pansy? Her father is a death eater. He came to the manor this summer to work with my father and brought Pansy along. She came back to school and told everyone she spent the summer at the manor. She let them make assumptions because she thrives on the attention." He explained bitterly, looking over Hermione's shoulder as he spoke, his eyes fixated on a single stone on the wall.

"The manor was swarming with death eaters the entire summer. Did you think that I wanted to ignore you? That it didn't break my fucking heart every minute of every day that I couldn't talk to the one person who—" He stopped himself, "You are all I wanted every second of every day from the moment I left you."

Hermione thought back to Pinky's words 'the bad people will hurt mister Malfoy again'.

Again.

Her breath was pulled out of her lungs with his words.

His voice broke, "I slept with that journal under my pillow every night, knowing that you must've been filling it with messages that I'll never get to read. Knowing that you had to have been confused and hurt and knowing that I was the cause of your pain. That I hurt you in the way I always swore I never would."

His hands were shaking as he brushed away a fallen tear on his cheek with the palm of his hand, "I hate myself for what I did to you. Every day in class, every meal, every moment of every day. The look…the look in your eyes broke me in a way that I will never forgive myself for. I can't believe that you thought I just moved on, like I ever had a choice."

A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek, then another, "You broke my heart," she mumbled pathetically, "I thought…you didn't want me anymore."

She watched as something in Draco's eyes shattered.

Draco looked at her seriously as he stepped closer, "I would never—could never—fuck, you just don't get it, do you? You are the only one who matters. The only reason I'm doing any of this," he blinked back his own tears.

"Doing what?" Her voice was small.

"Granger, I can't—" his breath hitched, "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to see the way that you looked at me when you knew." His voice was a whisper, "I could've survived knowing that you were safe and happy, even if it was away from me."

He clenched his hands into fists, pushing them against his closed eyes in raw frustration, "I can't do anything right; I couldn't even stay away from you."

"You don't have to stay away from me, I'm not fragile—I can hold my own, whatever is going on." She insisted, "You don't get to unilaterally make a choice for me. I get to decide for myself, and I can handle it."

"It's not that I didn't think you could handle it. It's the opposite. I knew that you would do what you always do, with that ridiculous Gryffindor bravery and you would try to help me. I can't—I didn't want to drag you into this, Granger." He closed his eyes, "I've fucked everything up."

The shaking hands, the tremors, the lifeless eyes and shadows of exhaustion. The night terrors, his screams—were they real? It was overwhelmingly obvious that Draco had gone through hell over the summer. That he had been more alone than Hermione these past few months.

She had been so consumed with breaking the silence, that she did not think about the purpose the silence had served.

His heart was cracking in front of her. Hermione's fingers itched to touch him, anywhere, everywhere. She swallowed hard; her breath separated her lips as she exhaled a small sigh. His eyes opened, he paused.

"I'd almost forgotten what they looked like," he murmured to himself, brushing his thumb lightly across her freckles.

"Draco…"

He shivered from the way she said his name.

His eyes drifted down to her parted lips.

He needed this.

She needed this.

"You were right…I…I didn't—I couldn't," she could barely get out the words, "it's only been the one kiss. It's always been you."

The look in Draco's eyes left her breathless.

She felt her willpower snap like a tightly wound string inside her chest. She reached for him at the same time he moved towards her, meeting in the middle. Her arms tangled around his neck as he lifted her in his hold. Her legs pulled up around his waist as he clung to her, raining kisses from her flushed cheeks to her forehead, pausing briefly to indulge in her swollen lips before moving down the soft skin of her neck.

He claimed her with each intoxicating touch of his lips.

"You owe me an explanation, Draco Malfoy." She demanded, her skin burning under his touch, unable to stop herself from arching into him, "Don't think this means I forgive you; you have a long way to go before I could forgive you. You hurt me—you really hurt me."

"I'll explain everything," he promised, his voice thick with emotion, "I'll answer any question, I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'll explain every second that I was away."

He pulled back, his eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to spill over; he held her face between his hands as he choked out, "Say you're still mine, Hermione," he begged, "say I didn't fuck us up beyond repair, please; I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I'm yours," she breathed out, molding herself against him; his body was deliciously pliant against hers and she was unable to tell where one ended and the other began.

"You're still mine," he murmured into her like a prayer, as if willing it to be true, "I'm still yours."

Her voice trembled as she offered him her wrist, a tear ran down her cheek and landed with a splash on her binding rune, "Since the moment you took your first breath until the moment I take my last, I'm yours."

He inhaled a shaky breath, closing his eyes; he pushed his lips against hers, their tears blending between their cheeks.

She murmured against his lips, "Don't you ever leave me again, Draco Malfoy."

"Never," he promised, "I won't—I'm yours forever, Hermione Granger," he pledged with each kiss.

He slipped a finger under the strap of her dress, pulling it down her shoulder. He pressed his lips against her neck, trailing heated kisses down to her clavicle. She closed her eyes; a shiver traveled down her spine from his touch. Her breasts pulled tight against the fabric of her dress as her chest heaved.

A heat flashed through her body, settling low in her torso.

Draco moved to her other shoulder, continuing to lavish attention on her, sucking and nipping at her flushed skin. His mouth moved down her, demanding and possessive, leaving a path of love bites down her neck and chest.

She leaned into him, her hand drifted lower, boldly tugging his trousers down his hips. He sucked his breath through his teeth.

She whispered, her face flushed from tears, "I can't go another minute without you."

Her words seemed to break what little resolve he had left. He backed her up against the nearby desk, lifting slightly to place her on top. Hermione fumbled with his trousers, unzipping them as quickly as her hands could manage. She focused on the cool feeling of the zipper as the sound filled the room. His eyes darkened as he watched her hungrily, ablaze with fire and tears.

She felt him hard and heavy against her stomach. His fingers reached under her dress; she heard the sound of ripping fabric as her lace knickers fell to the floor. Draco's hands cupped her bare backside, she curled her toes and leaned into his touch. The chill of the room air was quickly replaced by the heat of Draco's body as he pushed his hips against her. He thumbed the hem of fabric, bunching her dress around her waist. She shivered as his hands brushed against her stomach, goosebumps forming from his touch.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered fervently as he laced his fingers behind her neck, kissing her so hard she felt as if her lips would bruise, "Granger, I'm so sorry," he sighed into her.

Hermione returned his kiss, demanding his lips and tongue; they wrestled for dominance, gasping for air between kisses.

She parted her thighs, desperate to feel closer to him. She wrapped her leg around his waist; whimpering as she tried to grind herself against him. He let out a low growl in his throat, his thumbs pressing into her hips with an unrelenting force. Hermione tilted her hips, pushing his head against her core as she began lowering herself onto him, "Don't ever leave me again," she found herself begging; her hands frantically touched every spot of bare flesh in front of her.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, she gasped, rocking her hips towards him.

"You shouldn't—I don't…deserve you…I don't…" he pushed upwards with raw desire, filling her body with his all at once, "deserve…" he mumbled incoherently as he devoured her chest and neck, sucking and biting at her skin.

Hermione moaned from the pressure and the satisfying pain of being stretched all at once. She shifted and opened her hips wider, trying to move him as close to her as possible. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she dragged them across his back. He pushed into her quickly, pulling out slowly and pumping back inside deeper. Draco moaned, from pleasure or pain or perhaps a mix of the two.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled under his breath as his breath hitched, his throat bobbed, "I'll never leave you again, I'm yours, Hermione."

Hermione pulled his head to her, their foreheads touching and eyes connecting, unblinking as he thrust into her at a frantic pace. A low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her. He continued his rhythm, pushing into her with a snap of his hips and dragging himself out gradually. Draco lowered a hand, rubbing circles into her bundle of swollen nerves as he continued his pace.

The room filled with the sound of heavy breathing, of their flesh joining and whispered promises. She felt her legs shaking beneath her, meeting each thrust with a curve of her hips. His fingers dug into her thighs as he gripped her urgently as if she would disappear at any moment. The pressure inside her belly built with each movement, his hips pushed deeper into her as she trembled beneath him. Her eyes watered, overcome with emotion as she clung to him, holding him against her and breathing in the smell of his cologne.

This time felt different than the others, it was primal as they claimed each other with each movement.

Her hips seized as her chest arched against him, her thighs spasming around his hips. She was impossibly tight as she rippled and clenched against him; his hips quickened their pace as she came undone, whimpering his name against his skin. He shuddered with his release, his eyelids fluttering shut, and then he stilled. Draco rested the weight of his body on her, stroking her cheek softly with his hand, still locked inside her. He kissed her slowly and gently, worshiping her lips with such pure adoration that she felt dizzy.

He looked deep into her eyes and promised, "I'm yours."

Time seemed to freeze as they clung to each other. Their tears dried as they closed their eyes, pressing their foreheads against each other. Just breathing, existing in the moment.

Together.

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Hermione broke the silence, suppressing a smile, "because I think my knickers are no more than a scrap of fabric now."

Draco smiled and the sight took her breath away. It had been nearly six months since she had seen him smile.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, repairing her knickers and heel with a quick wave of his wand, "I promise that wasn't my intention when I pulled you into here tonight." He paused, "Honestly, none of this was my intention. I just saw you kissing him, and my brain stopped working."

Hermione and Draco straightened their clothing.

"Did you silence the room?" Hermione asked suddenly, eyeing the door.

Draco blanched, "I didn't. I wasn't thinking. I—"

"The Come and Go Room?" She asked, her voice cracking slightly.

He caught her meaning, nodding solemnly, "Yeah, the Room of Requirement."

Her heart flipped.

He looked faint, "I'll leave now, and you follow in five minutes? In case anyone is nearby?"

She squeezed his hand once in confirmation. He hesitated before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, and then he was gone.

Hermione stood in the silence of the classroom, trying to process what just happened. A quiet voice in the back of her mind wondered if he would show up this time.


It took Hermione nearly twenty minutes to conjure up the courage to open the door to the room of requirement. If she opened the door and he was not inside, she did not know what she would do.

She would fall apart.

Hermione stood outside the wall, staring at the rough patterns in the stone and remembering her previous visits to the room. A multitude of emotions were passing through her, anger, confusion, grief, embarrassment, longing, love—she was trying to process how she should feel in this moment.

In the end, she decided that she wanted to listen if he was willing to talk.

If he was there.

She pushed the door open.

Draco was standing directly on the other side of the door; so close, in fact, that Hermione nearly hit him with the door as it opened. She observed him in the light of the room. He had more colour to his cheeks than she had seen in months. His eyes were stained red and glassy, as if he had been crying between the classroom and now. He looked beyond fatigued and worn-down.

"I thought you weren't coming," his voice whispered pitifully, "I wouldn't have blamed you."

Her lip quivered. She had thought that she ran out of tears weeks ago.

"I just…needed a moment to collect my thoughts. You must remember it's been months, Draco. I just…" she sighed, feeling a weight on her chest, "can we talk?"

"Yes." He answered quickly, "I promised that I would tell you anything you want to know."

She made her way over to the large plush sofa of their common room, remembering the hours she spent reading on her birthday, waiting for him.

"Let's start from the beginning."

Draco nodded, his eyes drifting to the floor, "The beginning." He repeated.

There was a beat of silence. He looked at Hermione, shrinking into himself. She had never seen him look so vulnerable before.

He cleared his throat, "You and I sat here, on this sofa, and we said goodbye for the summer. I took the train home and mother was waiting for me at the station. Father stayed home. Mother warned me that we had…guests at the manor for the summer, that our home was the largest of the Dark Lord's followers and that she would section them off to one wing of the manor so I would not have to interact with them more than necessary."

He looked away, "Remember when you asked if Bellatrix would come to the family following her escape from Azkaban and I said I didn't think she would? I was wrong. She was there, along with about a dozen other death eaters. Somehow the manor was offered up as a central hub for their activities. Mother and father were really displeased by it."

"First thing when I walked in the door, before Pinky even took my trunk, the…guests came to greet me." He visibly shivered at the memory, "Bellatrix said she was proud of the man I had grown up to be, a spitting image of my father or some bullshite like that. She said she wanted to make sure I was on the right side of the war. I hadn't known it, since she had been in prison my entire life, but she's apparently quite the accomplished legilimens."

Hermione fearfully sucked in a breath; she could see where this was going.

"It felt like she took a hot poker to my head. She was trying to pry into my mind. Granger," He looked at her seriously, "you are always on my mind. She nearly saw you. She—" his breath caught, "she almost found out about us. I could feel you on the cusp of my memory."

The hair on her neck rose at the thought.

Draco continued, "Do you remember how I told you that my mother was a natural born occlumens because of her Black-Rosier bloodline? Apparently, I have just enough of that in me that I was able to push her out by instinct that first time. It scared the shite out of me, that I was almost the reason that you—" he took a deep breath, "I knew that if they were going to be at the manor indefinitely, it was only a matter of time. I knew that I had to work on occlumency to keep you safe."

Hermione found herself moving closer to him on the sofa, drawn to him. She watched his emotions flash across his face in sequence as he spoke. Regret, terror, anger, frustration, sorrow.

"Mother gave me lessons, every day, and we worked together to build up a wall in my mind against anyone who would try to infiltrate my memories to get to you. She told me that Bellatrix kept mentioning that the Dark Lord had big plans for our family," he chuckled dryly, "and that he would be at the manor before we knew it, and what an honour that would be. Mother and I were terrified."

He looked at her, his eyes full of deep sorrow, "I had to put you away. My memories of you, thoughts of you, my entire heart, all of it. I had to find a way to put you in a box and seal it shut. That was why I couldn't handle opening that journal that you gave me because I knew it would be filled with you and I had to keep you away to keep you safe. I couldn't—" he blinked away the tears as they formed.

"I spent the entire summer in my bedroom, away from everyone. I studied and practiced occlumency with my mother. Pinky brought me food each meal. I was isolated and counting down the days until I was back at school with you. I used your perfume every night. I kept it on my pillow and in my dreams, I saw you," he lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing it so softly that Hermione could barely feel it.

"And every night in my dreams, you were there to tell me that I was doing the right thing."

Hermione's cheeks were wet again. When had she started crying?

"I had so many night terrors of them harming you," his tortured voice whispered, "I've barely slept since I left school. It's always the same, you are on the ground, crying out in pain, covered in blood and sobbing for me to help you. In every nightmare, no matter what I did, or what I said, it was never enough. In every nightmare you died because of me, with my name on your lips."

He exhaled a shaky breath, "It was about two weeks into the summer before they came to me and told me that I was," he laughed bitterly as he spat out the word, "chosen by the Dark Lord to fulfill a task."

She had not even realized that she was holding her breath until spots came into her vision. Hermione gasped for air. Harry's theory about Draco being a death eater resurfaced full force. It suddenly did not seem as ridiculous as it had that morning.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, looking concerned as she held her head in her hands.

He reached out his hand and paused mid-air, as if unsure if he could touch her anymore.

She took his hand and held it in hers, "No, I'm alright, please continue."

"I told them to go to hell. I just couldn't do it—not with you—I couldn't live with myself. That's when dearest aunt Bellatrix decided to start having nightly 'lessons' with me. Said my parents had raised me to be weak. Said that it was her duty to save the family name by teaching me the right path. By lessons she meant ranting about how wonderful the Dark Lord is to have granted me this 'opportunity' and how thrilled I should be that he considered me worthy."

He exhaled, his eyes drifting towards the floor. She squeezed his hand in encouragement. "After a week of lessons, she realized that I wasn't going to change my mind. She started using crucio on me nightly, saying that I would thank her one day for helping me make the right choice. As if there was ever really a choice."

Hermione's hand held his so tightly that he winced, "Oh my god. Love," she barely got the words out, "I'm so sorry."

Her night terrors.

His screams.

"I don't think my mother knew what Bellatrix was doing, but my father had to have known. He is in over his fucking head right now with the Dark Lord. He's a coward. He saw the aftereffects of her 'lessons' and did nothing. When you're under crucio consistently, you start to lose control because of the damage done to your nerves. It took months before my hands would stop shaking. Theo has some home remedies that he uses to self-treat when his father has too many drinks. He's been helping me recover."

Her hand was covering her mouth in horror, she watched him with tears in her eyes.

He waited for several beats in silence, searching for the words to say.

"They want me to kill Dumbledore."

Hermione froze, the words replaying in her mind on a loop, her mind stuttered, "They—You—How?"

"There's a vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts that has a partner in Borgin and Burkes. They want me to fix the one that's here so they can bypass the anti-apparation wards and sneak death eaters into the school for the night of the murder. Then the plan is to escape back to the manor."

All at once the pieces clicked into place. He was at Borgin and Burkes over the summer. The shadows under his eyes. He avoided her because his family was in danger, because she was in danger. Her night terrors were real. She heard his screams. Draco spent the summer tortured and terrified, trying to learn occlumency to protect her.

With the silence, he was trying to protect her.

She tried to hold back the sob that was building in her chest. Bile rose in her throat.

"Did you—I mean, did they—" she glanced at his left forearm and back to his face, "I wouldn't—"

"They tried."

She swallowed, blood rushing in her ears.

"What happened?"

"My mother happened," he fidgeted in his seat, "she had Teeney bring father divorce papers with his morning tea. Told him it was the mark or her. His pride or his family."

Hermione felt a swell of satisfaction that Narcissa had finally stood up for her son against monsters.

"Father caved. My parents convinced the Dark Lord that I would make a better spy," he cringed at the word, "if I was not marked until I was of age. That way my cover would not be blown at school by simply checking my arm."

She felt guilty that relief flooded through her at the words. That he had not taken the mark.

Yet.

The word itched at her brain.

"I knew in that moment that there was nothing I could do to help you. Nothing I could do to protect you except stay the hell away from you for good. I even fucked that up," he closed his eyes, "I just can't stay away from you. It was destroying me from the inside out."

He explained, "I tried to use occulemency to separate from myself when I was around you. To seal you back into that box. To push that part of me down so I didn't have to feel it. But seeing the look that you gave me that day outside potions was worse than any crucio I endured. It broke my soul that I did that to you. I went back to my room and I couldn't leave for days. Theo's the one who forced me out of bed, made me bathe, made me eat."

"I can't believe what you've been going through all this time, you should have told me." Hermione's eyes traced his face, "I still don't understand why you couldn't at least give me a warning or why you didn't just break up with me." She ran her hand through his hair, it felt comforting and familiar, "Instead I just spent months wondering what happened, completely shut out."

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into her touch, "I knew the moment I spoke to you that I would break. The moment I looked into those beautiful brown eyes I would fall apart."

"Is there anything I could have told you that would have made you accept this?" He asked bitterly, "I couldn't lie and say that I stopped loving you, that would have destroyed whatever good there is left in me." He looked down, "If there's any good left in me."

Hermione's heart ached at his words.

He continued, "I couldn't tell you anything about what was happening to me. If I told you about my summer or the task, you would have tried to fix it—tried to fix me. I'm fucking broken, Hermione. There is no fixing this."

"I swore Theo and Pinky to secrecy. I knew that if anyone tried to tell you any of this, the first thing you would have done is run headfirst into the danger for me. I've already done too much; I couldn't drag you into this too." He let out a humourless laugh, "Obviously, I fucked that up or I wouldn't be here with you right now."

She stayed quiet, still running her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

He continued, impassioned, "It's not your fault, it's in your soul, it's in your nature. You are so fucking good. It just kills me sometimes. It's everything that I love about you and I knew—I just knew that if you stayed with me, that I would be the death of you. I could live a thousand lifetimes alone if I just knew that you were happy and safe. It was a coward's way out, but I thought that if you hated me that it would make it easier for you to move on."

"I could never move on." Hermione's voice caught in her throat, "You were wrong about that. You should have told me right away. I would never have blamed you for being forced into this task. It's not your fault, Draco."

He looked at her with wild eyes, "Are you kidding me? This entire thing is my fault. It's my shitty blood with the blood curse. It's my mother with her binding. It's my father with his dark mark. Without me, you would have a life; without me, you would be happy. You deserve love and happiness and safety and everything good that this world has to offer. You were right, you deserve better than me."

"I didn't mean that, I was just frustrated by your apathy for all these months." She said miserably, "I was lashing out in anger. I'm not going to leave you to deal with this by yourself. We can figure a way out of this, together."

"If anything happens to you—"

Hermione cut him off, "If anything happens to me then you will know that it was my choice. You do not get to decide for me. No matter what, I refuse to live with regrets. Life's too short and happiness is too rare. I understand your fear, but you can't control what I do or hide me away from danger. I'm here whether you like it or not."

He sighed from deep in his chest, "I knew you would be like this. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Damn Gryffindors."

"Famously loyal and stubborn," she quipped, "you can't say I didn't warn you. You knew what you were signing up for with me."

Draco stroked her cheeks softly with his thumb, tucking his fingers into her hair, "I missed you more than I could ever describe."

"I missed you," her heart ached at the words, "all of me missed you. My heart, my body, my magic, my soul."

He kissed her so softly that she found herself following his lips back as he pulled away.

Hermione rotated, now with her back against Draco's chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her torso.

"I never had a chance, Granger. It's always been you."

She was not sure how much time had passed as they sat there in the silence of their common room, holding each other.

"I missed this," he mumbled into her wild hair, tilting forward to kiss her cheek from behind, "being able to hold you."

She felt him smile against her cheek.

After all these months, he still felt like home.

She raised a hand, trying to flatten her messy curls which had only grown messier from their earlier activities.

Draco shifted away from her; his fingers ran gently through her hair as he separated it into sections. Hermione's heart caught in her chest. He murmured a quick spell and began to braid her hair, weaving the curls together how Hermione had taught him during their summer at the manor.

Once finished, Draco conjured a mirror, placing it in her hand.

"I still remember how to braid those curls of yours." He paused as she inspected herself in the mirror, "I never forgot, not for a moment."

Suddenly, it felt like he was not talking about the braid.

Her hand drifted up to her cheeks. She was crying. Had she ever stopped?

She turned her head, examining his work. There were clusters of small white flowers braided into her hair. Hermione turned around to face Draco, her eyes wide.

"Forget-me-nots," his eyes looked between hers, "I am so sorry, Hermione. I am so sorry for everything."

"I love you," she held his face with her hands, "Draco, you need to forgive yourself. I forgive you."

He closed his tortured eyes; a stray tear ran down his cheek.


When Hermione opened her eyes the next morning, she briefly wondered if the night before had been a dream. She carefully inspected herself in the compact mirror on her nightstand, finding a trail of love bites down her neck and on her breasts from the night before. Hermione shivered in delight; his kisses had claimed her with each mark. Glamouring them with her wand, she wondered if she had left any on him. She hoped that she had.

She had been so emotionally and physically exhausted at the end of her night that she had not changed out of her outfit from the Christmas party. Her hair was still braided, though most of the flowers had long fallen out. Hermione shimmied out of the dress. As it hit the floor, she heard a slight thud. She paused, picking up the pile of fabric and examining it thoroughly. A gold galleon was sewn into the skirt of her dress.

Hermione blinked, a laugh of surprise and relief bubbled out of her lips. She held the galleon to her chest tightly. She had not dreamed the night before.

She closed the clasp on her locket as the pendent fell to her chest, the metal warming against her skin.

The Draco she fell in love with was back.

A/N – For those who love to follow flowers and their meanings, forget-me-nots stand for the remembrance of good memories when two people are together as a couple. They also signify true love.