This chapter is a bit of a filler, kinda, and it finally gets fluffier after this. I've kinda burnt myself out writing. I really hope you like the rest of the story. I'm about to post 4 new chapters so I can get this thing over with.

I do not own anything Harry Potter and I make no money from this story.

The closing days of September and the first several of October were a troubled hell for Hermione. Her Mind Healer appointments went reasonably poorly, causing her mostly heartache and headache. It had taken days for Hermione to ultimately express any sort of testament to her feelings. And it had been relatively scanty, admittedly.

She found herself lying alert most nights. More frightened of falling asleep to the possible recollections that could plague her than the memories she had previously revived. Visions did penetrate her subconscious when Pansy forced her to rest, invalidating any level of Dreamless Sleep potion she consumed. And while most were positive, others were wholly disparaging.

One particularly terrifying memory had been especially gut-churning. Hermione believed it was when she dueled Draco's father and other Death Eaters before he was jailed for her near death. The sight of her stomach as it burst open under a purple curse had startled her awake in piercing shrieks.

That's when Pansy had taken to sleeping in her bed alongside her, disregarding Hermione's disputes. It had been initially somewhat awkward, but the nights she stirred in panic and Pansy inundated her with warmness had been soothing.

The two women spent a great deal of time with each other as Pansy's sabbatical stretched into October. And Hermione was more than thrilled to have her around. To be able to call on her should she need anything.

When her Mind Healer visits were downright dreadful, Pansy was the steady shoulder upon which Hermione could lean. She listened intently and refused to leave Hermione solitary for longer than 10 minutes at a time. While that had grown irksome at some points, say while she showered, Hermione couldn't debate the sense of peace throughout her at having someone who cared so deeply.

Hermione had been somewhat surprised when Pansy showed up one Saturday afternoon with petite boxes in her hand. Once they were enlarged, under Hermione's wand with Pansy's direction, she realized her new roommate had reclaimed her belongings from Ron's home. And to Hermione's sheer satisfaction, she had more books than she could have ever dreamed.

As their apparently unlikely friendship evolved, Pansy became a companion in learning magic. While Hermione hadn't honestly seen the necessity of a lip tinting spell, she had been utterly grateful for the lesson. She awoke the following morning with a fresh vision of her parents from Christmas time, and couldn't help but smile the day long.

Coupled with Pansy's teachings, her magical exercises with her Mind Healer had been rather productive. Memories immersed her over the prior weeks, and her repressed subconsciousness appeared to be healing.

Some of her earliest memories to return were of blithe giggles with Harry. Snowball fights on their school grounds. Laughing in the common room. Strolling within the Hogwarts halls. Joining him for drinks at the Leaky, with and without Ron. The birth of his first child, and the sheer exuberance on his features as he asked her to be James' godmother.

It had been more than apparent to her that they were best mates. Even greater friends than she and Ron or Ginny. He always appeared to help her. Support her. Care for her and encourage her. But her mind battled her heart as to why he had lied so profoundly.

She had wept to Healer Shelley, sharing the recollections and thoughts in one of her daily appointments, and the medi-witch suggested Hermione invite him to join a session.

Harry eagerly accepted her invitation as the second week of October rolled around, much to Pansy's annoyance. Harry showed well before Healer Shelley did, and Hermione watched him tread back and forth in the front garden, running a hand through his hair and looking wholly worried.

Healer Shelley met him several long minutes later, and they appeared to have a calming conversation. He deflated somewhat, nodding as she patted his back and escorted him toward the door, knocking lightly.

"I can answer it," Pansy pronounced.

"No, it's okay. I will get it."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I think we should talk alone, but I appreciate it, Pansy. Truly."

Pansy encased her in a tight hug before she nodded sharply and mildly stomped up the stairs, clearly still pestered by Harry's attendance. Hermione steeled herself with a deep breath, ambling to the door and opening it.

"Good morning, Ms. Granger."

"Hello, Healer Shelley. Harry…"

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said quietly, his eyes cast down a touch.

"The sitting room is this way," Hermione stated, outstretching her hand toward the room that held pained memories.

Harry and the Healer trailed her, Harry's feet shuffling against the marble as he wrung his fingers somewhat.

"If you'd both take a seat," Healer Shelley started, indicating the sofa Hermione had cried on numerous times.

They both sat, entirely speechless for several long moments as the Healer simply observed them. Hermione desired to look at her supposed best mate but felt tears growing at the mere notion.

"Mr. Potter, would you care to share with Ms. Granger what you did with me outside?"

Harry looked slightly startled, but he furrowed his eyebrows and breathed deeply.

"I'm so sincerely sorry, Hermione… I haven't been able to sleep. I feel so guilty."

"You should…" she whispered, and he flinched.

"I know… I know I screwed up."

"You did more than that! You betrayed me!" Hermione roared, her pent up aggression exploding free.

"I'm sorry…"

"You should be! You're a deceiver!"

"I know," he responded quietly, tears falling from his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you did! Deeply. How could you keep my wand from me?" Hermione shouted.

Harry's eyes scanned the Healer's space, his features somewhat pleading, but she did nothing. It was clear she was going to stay out of their conversation as much as possible, to allow two should-be friends an open forum of discourse. To clear whatever air they needed.

"I can't make excuses," he whispered when the Healer made no move to interject. "Everyone tried to tell me not to. Everyone. I didn't listen…"

"And you decided to only show me half-truths! Half lies!"

"I didn't want you to have to relive it!" Harry finally erupted.

"That wasn't your right! I had the right to know!"

"I know that now, Hermione. I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cover it, Harry! I had the right to know my true past. If you weren't going to be truthful, you shouldn't have shown me anything."

"It took months for you to work through your torture! It was so hard to watch. You were a shell, just entirely not yourself. And when you went to find your parents, you…"

"Find my parents?" Hermione interrupted his statement, absolute anxiety rippling past the anger in her stomach at his words.

"I don't…" Harry sputtered slightly, glancing at Healer Shelley for what appeared to be confirmation.

"Please share, Mr. Potter," she advised.

Hermione observed as Harry swallow thickly, casting his eyes toward the ground with a sheen. He inhaled a few times deeply, taking calming breaths before he spoke quietly.

"You had to find your parents because you… You erased their memories of yourself…"

"What?" Hermione muttered quietly, tears suddenly leaking from her eyes slowly.

"I don't know if…"

"This is the right forum to share, Mr. Potter," Healer Shelley said, and Harry nodded.

"Before we went on the run, you Oblivated them. Erased yourself. You didn't tell anyone for months, just dealt with it silently. Even then, you only told Ron and I. After the war, you left. You planted thoughts of Australia in their minds, and they moved there."

"I don't… why would I do something so heartless?" Hermione cried.

"You did it to protect them. They would have been tortured for information about us. You were right. Death Eaters almost destroyed their house searching for them."

Hermione couldn't speak behind the sobs she heard falling from her lips. All she could muster was a nod he continued to talk.

"You had hardly healed from your torture and the battle before you got on a plane. It took months for you to find them. And most of your money to fly in a specialized Healer from America…"

Hermione felt the weighted pressure over her form anew and noticed Healer Shelley's sad gaze. She couldn't stop crying at the knowledge Harry was yielding, and she felt somewhat paralyzed again. Unwilling to accept what sounded like even further harsh reality.

"I didn't want you to have to relive that so soon after they... I didn't want you to lose all the progress you made… but I failed regardless."

Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe again. Her toes felt numb, and her mood potion seemed to be waning, allowing sheer grief to wash over her as she cried. Harry set his hand on hers, atop her knee, and she cried a tad hard as his warmth wicked over her skin.

"Thank you, Harry…"

"What?" He uttered, somewhat quietly.

"I… thank you for helping me. For caring. For… trying to protect me."

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione. I went about it all wrong. I just didn't want you to suffer."

"I understand, Harry. I… appreciate what you did."

"Truly?"

"I think if you'd shown me any of that so soon after their… deaths, I wouldn't have been able to cope. Knowing I had lost so much precious time with them…"

Harry scooted across the couch then and enveloped his arms about her shoulders. She felt an absolute calmness settle in her gut as she circled her arms about him and cried into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione," he whispered, running his head down her back. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione wept a while longer as Harry comforted her. Holding her close as he cried himself. Healer Shelley concluded their meeting some while later, telling Hermione she would be back the next morning. Suggesting she not be alone for the remainder of the day. Hermione had agreed, knowing Pansy would allow her shoulder for tears.

Hermione trailed her two guests to the door, and Harry paused before stepping fully out.

"Would you like to come back and stay at Grimmauld?" Harry proposed.

"No, thank you, Harry. I quite like living with Pansy, truly."

"Then will you at least meet me for tea?"

"That sounds lovely, Harry," Hermione responded, and the relief that coursed across Harry's face was visible.

"I will owl you, okay?"

"Sure, Harry. I look forward to it."

Harry gave her a delicate nod, hesitating for a moment before he enveloped her in a crushing hug before he followed Healer Shelley from the door. His owl arrived that evening, asking her to join him the next day for tea in his home, which she had gladly accepted.

As the third week in October breezed about, Hermione and Pansy sat picking at a light breakfast together. Twink, the Parkinson house-elf, had made them both fluffy crepes with a side of berries. Hermione was already in a foul mood, having read the paper that arrived with a headline regarding her.

Golden Girl Gone Again?

"This is nonsense," Hermione snarled, tossing the paper over her shoulder with a huff. "Whoever Rita Skeeter is should be sacked."

"There's a reason I don't work for that drivel," Pansy laughed. "Speaking of work, I'm to travel to Milan on Thursday," Pansy said.

"Oh, that sounds luxurious," Hermione cooed, but Pansy groaned loudly.

"Not necessarily. The designer I'm to interview is so stuffy. Old school. And frankly rather handsy."

"Why take the assignment then?"

"He's a great contact to have," she shrugged. "Will you be okay? I can have someone come stay with you."

"I'll be fine, Pansy. Thank you."

A giant eagle owl drove its beak into the kitchen window then, startling both of the women and the small elf.

"Merlin, can't that bird do anything quietly?" Pansy rued as Hermione laughed softly. "Well, you get it. It's your boyfriend," Pansy continued, jutting a fork toward the window with a suggestive grin.

"He's not!"

"Sure, Granger, whatever you say."

Hermione felt her face flush as she rose, opening the window for the familiar avian. It hooted aloud and nuzzled her hand as it dropped a missive to the counter. Her given name was scrawled across the wax-sealed envelope, and she smiled at the sight.

Granger,

Are you well this morning?

I apologize I didn't write back yesterday. Work grew unbearable, and I barely floo'd home before falling asleep. Today won't be much more enjoyable.

But I wanted to make sure I was able to tell you good morning.

Draco

PS: Niamh still misses you. She sleeps in your nook every day.

Hermione couldn't help the more profound grin as she reread the missive.

When she awoke the day after the draining confrontation between Pansy and Harry some weeks ago, her roommate had shared more about her episode in the shower. Draco had apparently been the one to heal her arms and stayed with her that night. He left early the next morning, apparently feeling somewhat guilty at forcing his presence onto Hermione's vulnerable state.

When Pansy handed her the rolled scroll Draco had sent while she slept, she had cried again. It was a simple letter asking after her health. Ensuring her Mind Healer appointment hadn't disturbed her too much that day.

Hermione had responded with profuse apologies for causing him distress. For making him worry over her. Urging and practically forcing him to view awful memories that he likely didn't wish to relive. For being so utterly selfish in her actions and her demands.

His letter returned promptly, telling her simply that he would do anything within his power for her. And she had smiled comfortably for the first time in days.

After that, he owled daily. His notes began as innocent messages asking Hermione how she was but dissolved quickly into explanations of his day. Telling her about contracts he had penned and the business deals he had executed.

Discussing the books that she was reading and sending her copies of those he currently held dear.

Asking her what charms Pansy taught her and begging her to read a "real spellbook for useful enchantments" at her reply.

He inundated her books of spells after that. Some from their Hogwarts years, followed by a few tombs of advanced magicks. Complete thrill had coursed through her at receiving books she hadn't already owned, smiling while arranging them on the shelves Pansy had fashioned in her room.

Draco had even delivered on his promise of a hair potion from his mother. And she had cried tears that couldn't be helped as her hair began to grow quicker. Filling her head with unruly, long, springing curls. The curls her grandmother loved dearly.

"Well, isn't that just adorable," Pansy snickered from behind, carrying out her concluding word as she pulled Hermione to the present.

"Pansy!" Hermione shrieked, tucking the letter out of sight with a faint blush.

"Oh, hush. You should go see him, you know."

"I don't know…"

"Why Potter but not him?"

"Harry had his reasons, Pansy. I've told you. Plus, Draco hasn't asked to see me... I wouldn't want to impose."

"I know, I know. And I can assure you, he wants to see you. He's just too nervous blatantly express it."

Pansy's statement spread a small smile across Hermione's face that seemed to linger throughout the week. She met Harry that Wednesday for tea, and when he discovered Hermione would be left alone for the next two days, he insisted she come stay at Grimmauld.

Hermione had been adamant; she would be alright. That her mental state wasn't as it had been. But she had only succeeded in dwindling him down to dinner each night.

When Thursday night fell, she met the Potter's for dinner, which had been a great reprieve from the suffocating silence Pansy's absence had brought. She, Harry, and Ginny spent the evening laughing together after the children were put to sleep.

Two letters roared through the floo as the trio perched in the sitting room, sipping after-dinner drinks and watching the tele. The letters descended themselves onto the coffee table, and Harry groaned.

"That'll be the Hallowe'en party invitations," Harry tutted, flicking his wand and levitating the invites into the rubbish bin.

"That foolishness," Ginny muttered.

"The what?" Hermione inquired, curiosity printed on her features.

"Every year, the Ministry throws some function to try and drag us out to public appearances," Ginny lamented as she rolled her eyes.

"I haven't remembered any of those yet."

"Oh, you won't. You denounced those stuffy parties just as much as us. We've never been," Harry chuckled.

"Are they that awful?" Hermione challenged.

"Well, I guess we wouldn't know… But I can't imagine they'd be any fun."

"I think I'd like to go," Hermione spoke quietly, and both Ginny and Harry's faces rose in shock.

"Are you sure, 'Mione? It might be overwhelming."

"I'm sure. I want to show everyone that I am alright. That I am healing. To stop those foolish articles about my disappearance."

"Okay… Then we'll go," Ginny volunteered.

"Oh, you don't have to go with me. You just said you despise these things."

"We're not allowing you to suffer solo. Those stodgy Ministry figures won't leave you alone if we do," Harry laughed somewhat as he stood, retrieving the invites from the waste. "Looks like these are just mine and Gin's. Maybe they sent yours to Parkinson's?"

"Harry, would you call her Pansy already?"

"No way I'm calling that pug-face by her name," Ginny bewailed with a loud yawn.

"Ginny!"

"You can't deny it!" Ginny exclaimed as she rose, kissing Harry on the cheek.

"Pansy is a lovely woman," Hermione lectured, and Ginny simply shrugged, a laugh on her lips.

Ginny left them then, still looking utterly exhausted. Hermione knew she must be. Two small children and running a house this large couldn't be easy. Couldn't allow her enough sleep.

When Harry settled next to her on the sofa again, they sat in a deep companionable silence sipping their drinks. He an aged firewhiskey and she water. It was comfortable to relax with him, reflecting over their own thoughts, yet somehow soothing away any fears the other possessed.

"Harry, may I ask you more questions?" Hermione searched, quietly, some while later.

After her session with Harry, Healer Shelley had encouraged Hermione to ask questions. To gain clarity about her fogged memories rather than remaining in obscurity as she had been. And Harry had been an immense help in filling massive lapses between recollected visions.

"Of course, 'Mione."

"I keep seeing us camping in my dreams. And I remember it from your memories."

"We weren't camping…" Harry started noiselessly. "That's when we were on the run."

"It was just us?"

"Mostly, yes. Ron was there for part of it…"

"Part?"

"He eventually left us. It was just you and I for months."

The memory Draco had revealed to her instantly snapped into place in her brain. Of he and Ron in the pub, warning him to go into hiding. He had run into Ron when Ron had run away.

"Why was I with Ron?" She asked, somewhat cautiously. "Everything I remember of him is arguments. And now this..."

"You two have been very turbulent."

"That much is obvious, Harry, but why?"

"He never truly accepted you and Malfoy's... history. When you presented those memories at their trial, he didn't behave the same after. You guys had always argued. Or rather bickered. But… he really didn't take that well."

"That's ridiculous."

"The night you and your parents got into your accident, he called you a Death Eater's slag…"

"What?" Hermione said, anger tracing her tone instantly.

"He felt so guilty after everything happened…" Harry started, as he leaned forward, his elbows falling to his knees. He took a swig of whiskey and swirled his glass somewhat as his gaze grew uneasy.

"He told me you kept saying Malfoy's name in your sleep. That you fought, and he chose not to go to dinner with you that night. He feels like everything that happened was his fault."

"He didn't make that man drive drunk…"

A sadness settled in her gut at Harry's words as she realized how her anger may have been somewhat misplaced. That Ron actually may have been affected by her accident. Surely not to her degree, but he had possessed a pang of guilt on his consciousness for months.

"And his behavior when you woke up…"

"Was appalling."

"Yeah. He told me a few weeks ago that he was trying to be like Malfoy… So you'd love him instead."

"I don't love Draco…"

"Sure," Harry nodded, but his expression held skepticism as he gazed at his whiskey.

"And Ron's behavior was so detached from Draco's, it's absurd he thinks so."

"It wasn't really, 'Mione. Malfoy always acted that way toward us. Haughty. Too good for us."

"Not to me," Hermione said softly, a small smile gliding over her features at their shared memories. At his sweet demeanor since.

"You never really shared much about your… friendship with him."

"It was a hair more than friendship."

"It's obviously more than friendship, 'Mione. He wouldn't be doing all he is if it wasn't."

"He's been quite accommodating."

"And I'm loathed to admit the ferret has done anything useful."

"Harry! You shouldn't call him a ferret."

"That one will never go away," Harry snorted with a somewhat happy smile, sitting back against the couch again.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Of course. You shouldn't have to thank me, 'Mione. I should have been telling you these things for months..."

When she floo'd home that night, there was an elegant envelope addressed to her on the coffee table. She smiled slightly as she opened it, pulled out her wand, and successfully marked the "Yes" box. When she sealed the envelope, it sprang to life and headed straight toward the floo, Hermione watching it with a soft smile as it disappeared.