Draco barely moved as Hermione left the room, avoiding looking at him as she gathered their cups. As it was, he could barely breathe. Her words weighed on him like a press – I burned it. The ache in his chest expanded, gradually overcoming every inch of him. She was done with him.

He shouldn't be this taken aback. After all, he had been the one begging to be free of their relationship. Not wanting them tied to vows he couldn't remember. He couldn't fathom filling in the shoes of his past self.

Logically, he knew that the burning of their contract was purely symbolic. It sounded as if he had done the thing correctly – certain parchment was to be used for magical vows and contracts if they were to be recorded in the Ministry. He must have wanted that very much. He must have hoped that she would be the one to survive. And then inherit all that was his. If nothing else, the fact that he valued her survival above his would have been a telling move of the young Draco he remembered.

He tried to steady himself as his head began to grow foggy from the pounding. To clear it he focused on the present. Or rather the recent past. He wondered at what point she had attempted to free him from the relationship. In theory, he should have been pleased that she sought to fulfil his wishes. Instead, he felt damn near devastated. He'd had everything. And he'd thrown it all away.

Hermione felt shaky as she made her way to the kitchen. She hadn't stopped to see his reaction. Just swept from the room under the pretense of clearing the tea things. She let the cups clatter into the sink, gripped the edges of the counter. There was no way he could have known. And she'd flung the words, almost heartlessly. But goodness, apparently it still hurt. She'd been so so angry at the end of sixth year… she almost hadn't forgiven him. And in a moment of despair, she'd burned their contract. Their vows. Determined to remove him from her life. He hadn't let that happen. He had held on to what they had, perhaps more than she had. The anger and guilt and loss warred within her.

She began to scrub the cups with an unnecessary vigour. Even with his memory loss, Draco was still reaching out, while she was resisting. Holding on to the barest of threads, because it was extraordinary that he was in her life again. Even with all her confusion, his just being there was something she didn't want to let go. But she didn't want to tug that thin thread, afraid everything would unravel. What if it was the start of the end? They had surely muddled it the first time around.

"I'm sorry."

Hermione almost dropped her cup, she was that startled by the apology.

"Whatever for?" It certainly wasn't his fault… not as he was now at any rate. He was apologizing for actions he couldn't even remember. He couldn't remember that they'd moved past it. Come to terms with what had happened, in their own way. At least, she hoped they had. It was something she would probably never know.

And now, she was the one who should be sorry. She'd never explained her speculation that their bond, though still presumably intact, may have been impacted by those actions. Those and many others.

"I'm the one who wanted out. I didn't think about how that would affect you. It must have been a difficult thing for you to do." It must have been doubly hard for her, he realized, once she discovered that the burning wouldn't achieve anything. It certainly wouldn't undo the bond, and for that he was grateful. Even if he hated seeing her distress. It was almost physically painful, watching her despair and being the cause of it. But his inner ache eased at the thought that she was still bound to him.

Hermione heaved a sigh and turned back to the sink. He'd misunderstood.

"I didn't do it now. Not when you returned, I mean. It was long before that. Sixth year." She confessed, knowing how it sounded. It reeked of fickleness to someone who didn't know or understand everything they'd been through. Everything that had happened at the end of sixth year.

"Why?" Hermione didn't turn around at the question. She continued putting away the tea things as she pondered the best way to answer.

"I was angry. Very angry." Angry, betrayed, abandoned. He'd allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts with the intent of killing Albus Dumbledore. And then left her. No explanation. Just nothing. She could feel the frustration building again. She was left dealing with the fallout. Again. Not his fault, but that didn't help to temper her onslaught of emotions.

"You were angry?" Draco was irritated at the simplicity of her response. After everything, shouldn't he be given more information than that? He'd allowed himself to hope that it was for safety or some such thing. He wanted reassurance. But this was incredulous. She wouldn't have just put their contract to flame simply because they what? Had a lover's tiff? Deep down, he knew, he knew there was more to the story. He could feel it. It crawled beneath his skin, a truth he didn't want to acknowledge.

You don't deserve her. The thought flickered in his head, as if it had been there before, lurking and waiting to make itself known.

"Yes, I was angry!" Why was that so hard to believe? Hermione slammed a cupboard door shut before remembering Leo and proceeding more softly. She took an agitated breath.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that our relationship was an epic romance full of hidden alcoves and secret kisses. It wasn't." Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. It had been so complicated. A tug of war between them, often one or the other resisting temptation. Until it just became too hard to be apart. They hadn't wanted to be apart. Even with the danger. The highs were so high. Too high. It wasn't something to be explained – it was something to be felt. Her face reflected her inner turmoil.

Draco felt ill. She looked so unhappy, that it crushed him. What was she holding onto if the memory made her so miserable? But the thought of her letting go somehow made that sickly feeling worse.

"We may have been young, but our relationship wasn't some youthful fancy. We were both aware of the risks. The high stakes. We just-" Hermione shrugged, wordlessly, unable to find the words to explain that tug that kept her coming back to him.

"We just wanted each other more." He understood that with stark clarity. He couldn't resist her now. Her smiles had beckoned him. Her laughter captured him. And her eyes – he lived when he was wrapped up in her gaze. And that was now. He could imagine what it would have been like then. When his world was crumbling. She must have been his salvation.

"Even with the danger, goodness knows we both knew what was at stake, we just couldn't let go." Hermione turned away from him again, trying to compose herself. Trying not to fall into him. Wanting to fall into him so badly it hurt.

His hand was on her arm in a moment, silently urging her back to him.

He tilted her face up to look at him. "You still can't let it go." He was gazing at her with such intensity, his hand reaching to brush through her hair. "I can't let it go," he confessed, his eyes seemingly mesmerized by her curls wound round his fingers. "You're in my blood. And I can't resist. Can you?"

Never. The word whispered through her head. Merlin, she never could resist him. Not again. Not when he was so close. Hermione gaped at him silently. He was just so close. No longer out of reach. And she was so tired. She'd given up the fight earlier, inviting him in, letting him read her deepest thoughts. Sharing parts of herself she'd long considered private.

Hermione closed her eyes as she tilted her head into his now open palm. She almost hissed at the contact. Skin on skin. She wondered that her heartbeat could accelerate so much with that simple touch.

Draco was heartened by her silent invitation. His hand slid into her hair, down her neck. Caressing, exploring. Upon the return to her cheek, Hermione pressed her lips to his palm. And it was his turn to break.

His kiss was swift. Hermione had been about to open her eyes and then his lips were on hers. Warm and open and real. She reveled in it. It was everything she needed. The reminder she needed of why she kept holding on. How could she give up something that felt this right? They were so right. She had him. She could keep him.

She tangled her hands in his robes, pulling him closer, holding him to her. As if she could reclaim what they had with sheer will. Her fingers were sure as they slipped through buttons to skin. His breath hitched at the contact and Hermione's fingers tingled with the pleasure of it. Simply feeling him.

He visibly swallowed, watching her fingers move back and forth, foreheads pressed together. She wanted to kiss him again. He had other thoughts.

He heaved a breath as she pressed her lips to his jaw. "You have to let me know what you want." She frowned at the strain in his voice. Before she could reassure him, he continued.

"You know I want you. But I don't want you to have regrets tomorrow. So what do you want from me, Hermione?" He was stock still. So was Hermione. Their cheeks lay a hair's breadth apart. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm. Reassuringly strong.

What did she want? There were so many things. She wanted him to have his memories back so they could be as they were before. She wanted to yell at him for forgetting her at all. She wanted him to love her again.

She wanted things she couldn't have. But there was one thing she could have, if she was brave enough to take it.

"You." The word settled softly by his ear. "Draco, I want you."

Hermione woke to the feeling of fingers languidly tracing patterns on her back. A delighted shiver ran through her.

"Good morning," she murmured, biting her lip, hesitant to turn around. She was cuddled so closely, his other arm wrapped around her just so. She felt on the brink of a dream. It was the most surreal feeling – she was simultaneously self-conscious in this morning after yet also it felt like the most natural thing in the world to wake up with him surrounding her.

"Good morning." A kiss to her nape accompanied the words. She slowly rolled over to find teasing, but wary grey eyes avidly watching her. He hadn't loosened his hold and Hermione was reminded of a time when he'd vowed never to let her go.

The thought tinged her with guilt, but she pushed it down. It was silly to feel guilty, wasn't it? But she somehow felt she was being unfaithful to one of the Dracos… it was too confusing for this early in the morning. And she wouldn't succumb to her doubts. She'd take a moment, she decided, recall her resolve from the night before, and all would be well. Everything would be okay.

"I should check on Leo."

"I was hoping to keep you in a sexually satisfied stupor for a little longer," he teased. His mouth had been exploring leisurely, yet felt the sudden tension in her body. Confused, he pulled back. Looked at her in concern.

"Everything all right? Leo?" He brushed her hair back over the shoulder and watched the look change in her eyes. She was perfectly still, but her eyes moved quickly, as if her thoughts couldn't be contained in her head. It was only after a second that she settled. The tension seemed to ease out of her, but something had changed.

"It's nothing. Nothing at all." She leaned almost desperately into him, angling her lips to his. He settled into the kiss for a moment – he couldn't resist her after all – but he hadn't forgotten the change that had come over her.

"Hermione," he cajoled, pressing kisses to her cheeks. "Tell me, love." He paused, pulled back, searching her eyes. "Are you regretting it? I'll understand." He most certainly wouldn't understand because it had been the most magnificent night of his life – that he could remember anyway – and it would probably crush him to find out if she didn't feel the same.

She shook her head gently, reaching up to brush her hand through his hair in absent wonder. Deliberately avoiding his eyes. "Just something you said. You said something similar… a long time ago. And I thought…"

He understood then. Hermione finally looked at him with curious eyes. Hopeful eyes. What had he said? Something that had given her that look of hope that he was going to have to diminish.

Hermione could tell she'd been mistaken by his expression alone. It was silly of her to remember something so small. But when you had so little of someone, you tended to cherish everything. She felt deflated and foolish, hating herself for doing this now, when they'd just been so close, so intimate. It was almost cruel. She watched him warily, awkwardly, unsure what to say to bring them back to where they had been mere seconds ago.

"I'm sorry." It sounded feeble and weak to her own ears, but it was the best she could do.

"I'm used to it." He may have been next to her, but he felt miles away.

She felt the guilt coursing through her. Because of course she had hoped. Had wondered if being together would have restored his memories. It was utterly selfish of her. She'd had him and it had been so right. But she'd gone back again and in doing so, ruined the moment. How to fix things?

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded." That sounded worse and she winced.

"I know." He brushed her hair over her bare shoulder, letting his hand linger. But he didn't look at her.

She wanted to say more, but didn't know what to say. She was saved by Leo's cry from the next room.

"I'll get him. You lie in for a change." He brushed a kiss over her lips and left, taking the sheet with him, wrapping it round his waist as he went.

But Hermione saw the way his tiredly ran a hand over his face as he left the room, and her heart sunk.

Hermione curled her feet up under her. She stared blindly ahead as Ginny and Harry spoke in hushed voices nearby. Ron's constant pacing had probably worn a hole in their rug. She couldn't say she was surprised at these reactions, considering her announcement.

"Let me get this straight, 'Mione. You're divorcing Malfoy because you want to be with Malfoy?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"Yes." Her friends had naturally been confused by her decision. But how to explain? The grief? The guilt? The tiredness? She kept holding on to the past, so much so that she was drowning in it. She was going to take Draco down with her. Or lose him in the aftermath of her emotional destruction.

"You realize this is completely mental, right?" Ron finally came to a halt in front of her, blocking her view of the fireplace. His agitation was tangible. "You two are bonded. You want him. He wants you. And you're actually married to each other."

"Now who sounds like Mum? Though I don't think she's hit that pitch yet." Ginny's voice came from behind, but she could imagine the redhead's wince at her brother's shrill tone. Hermione wanted to laugh, but was afraid it would come out a choked sob and resolutely kept quiet.

Ron scowled but ignored his sister's jibe.

"It makes perfect sense, Ronald." Hermione's reply sounded calmer than she felt. "I'm married to the old Draco, who for all intents and purposes, no longer exists for me. I want a future with the Draco I have now. To prove that, I have to leave the past in the past. Start anew. With him."

Hermione swirled her Firewhiskey, watching the amber liquid glimmer in her glass. It wasn't as if she'd come to this decision lightly. Did it feel wrong? Absolutely. It felt like she was giving away something that wasn't just hers. It tore at her heart, churning her stomach. It felt like a betrayal, but unless she closed one door, how could she move forward? She'd loved every minute of the night before. But then, the guilt had gradually crept in. Despite her best efforts to stay in the present, her heart was in the past. Every touch, kiss, and caress had been an agonizing pleasure. They couldn't be what they were, that was clear to her now. But perhaps they could be something new.

"The divorce was already in progress anyway," she added. That much was true, though she hadn't told Draco yet. She wasn't sure how much of the bond or contract she could break when she'd sought out an oath-breaker. It was, after all, what he had wanted at the time. It was easier, emotionally, to direct the inquiries to the proper channels than to undertake the research herself. And if she was being honest with herself, she hadn't wanted to know. She didn't want to discover first-hand how weak their attachment may have been.

"Barely." Harry's murmur was quiet, but not low enough not to reach her ears. He and Ginny had moved towards them, having concluded their own tête-a-tête about the whole affair.

"You too?" Hermione couldn't believe that no one seemed to understand her reasoning. So she would have to explain it again. "I know it may seem like it doesn't make a lot of sense-"

"Absolutely no sense." Ron interjected. Ginny swatted him to keep him silent.

"It's the only way to move forward." Hermione repeated firmly. There had been a definite change in Draco's demeanor after her slip. The truth had hit her after he left. The pictures. The journal. Her constant yearning for his memories to return. It would always be between them if she didn't do something to show him that she could move forward. Because she was the one holding back. Suffocating them in the what was, instead of looking at what could be. And she was hurting him. She knew he'd always wonder – wonder if she was only with him, waiting to see if his memories would return.

"I think you should just talk to him." Harry said, shaking his head as if he couldn't comprehend Hermione's logic.

"We've talked. We've gone in countless circles. I need to do something definitive. Something to show him that we can have something new, a relationship based on the now not the then." And show myself that I can leave the past in the past. That was the crux of it. Because no matter how many times she said the words, it wouldn't be enough. Her actions had to back those words up. And then, maybe, they could move on.

Ron and Harry were exchanging looks that only irritated further. Did they think this was easy for her?

"If I don't do this, our past will always linger over us. We could pretend it wasn't, but it would be a constant shadow. And if I don't let go now, I may never be able to." She confessed softly, feeling her heart cracking. She swallowed the Firewhiskey with vehemence, afraid that without the liquid fortification she would crumble into a mess of racking sobs.

Ron collapsed beside her in an exhausted heap. "He could take it badly."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. I'll explain it to him. I'm still not even sure…" if he wants me. That was the other truth she feared. Despite his eager pursuit, there was still the fear that this might not work. That they were never meant to be at all.

If he was her future, then they could find their way to each other with a clean slate. But without this closure, she would forever wonder if this phantom tie, the bond, was the only reason he still sought her out. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. This was the least she could do. And gods, maybe then she could finally heal.

If there was something true and real between, then they'd make new vows. Stronger ones.

It was a big if.

"More Firewhiskey."

Harry poured without another word.