Harry's owl returned in the wee hours and tapped on Hermione's window to be let in. It startled her out of a dead sleep. She blearily pulled open the window to allow the bird inside, and shivered in the night breeze. The bird (Calliope, as she was called) had three scrolls tied to her ankle. Oh, Merlin. Three at that late hour must mean something terrible happened, she reasoned. While Calliope made herself comfortable perched on the headboard, Hermione unrolled one of the scrolls and then settled into a cozy armchair beside the window. Harry's scrawl greeted her.

Hermione~

I knew you were alive! At least he's a Seeker.

Expect a Ginny hurricane to blow into your parlour tomorrow evening. In the meantime, enjoy yourself. You deserve… whatever that is.

Affectionately,

Harry

P.S. I apologize for Ron's letter being included in your delivery. We promised to send it for him because it was better than telling him where you are. Probably should wait until you're not on holiday to read it. Other note is from Gin, it's the one with the yellow ribbon.

She sighed, and her skin immediately prickled in dread. Something dreadful had indeed happened: Ron wanted to be in contact with her again. She wanted nothing to do with whatever he had to say; it was probably the same old "I'm an idiot", with a heavy dose of guilt thrown in. He had sent her such letters twice before. She had never replied.

Hermione put Ron's note to the side and unrolled the scroll with the yellow ribbon around it. Ginny had such a beautiful, flowy hand-it almost softened the prospect of a declaration from Ron.

Dear 'Mione,

I knew it! I knew you were with him. I want all the details tomorrow night, so don't even bother writing back because I want you to enjoy yourself and let him into your boudoir if that's what you want. He's pretty fit now that he's not a total prat!

You're probably going to be angry with me for saying that. I know how you hate being pushed-but know that I love you and I want you to be happy with someone wonderful. If it's the heir of Slytherin, I am delighted for all future dinner parties. If it's not him, maybe you'll just be healed to be friends with him. Whatever you want. I love you!

Now… Ronald is having a bad patch, but I promise his note isn't as bad as you're probably expecting. Suffice to say that Lavender has been stepping out on him and he's grasping for straws. You don't even have to read it, but maybe it would heal you to be friends with him too? He *is* my brother, even though I like to pretend he isn't. If you can forgive Draco, could you forgive Ron too?

Think about it before you read his note. Don't forget that Harry and I are here for you no matter what you decide.

See you tomorrow! I'm bringing wine so I can watch you drink it!

Love,

Ginny

Hermione set down the paper. It wasn't fair. She wasn't the one who disappeared for three months without a word! She owed him nothing. She had already been the bigger person and let him off easy. Nobody, with the exception of Harry, Ginny, and now Draco, knew what had transpired between them, because she hadn't had the heart to drag Ron's name through the mud. No matter how mad she had been, she had never considered talking about him in a poor light to their mutual friends. She had walked away with her head up.

Why now? Why, after more than five years of radio silence, did he want to talk?

Is it possible for us to be friends? she thought. Is that something I even want? He was clearly in need to support, but she wasn't sure she had the strength to give it. She couldn't bear both of their pain. Ron surely would dump his angst onto her without helping her relieve her own-at least, that's what he would have done before the war. He always was a whinier fellow. Nobody could complain like Ron.

Hermione debated starting a fire in her fireplace just to burn up his scroll, but she knew that she'd always wonder if she didn't read it first. But that kind of decision required sustenance. She grabbed his scroll, stuffed it in the pocket of her robe, and padded out into the kitchen.

While she waited for the kettle of water to boil, Hermione studied the paper in her fist. The edges were well-worn, as if it had sat in a desk drawer awaiting the right moment to be sent… which meant that he had written it a while back. That didn't make her decision any easier; if he had been dwelling on a possible reconciliation for a while, he might have certain expectations. But she didn't have to acquiesce, even if she did read the letter. No debt would be incurred, to wrongs would demand to be made right. Ron would have no way of knowing that she had read it anyway. She could always claim innocence.

She hoped that he didn't have any expectations. No matter what he had done to her, she couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him.

What would Ron say if he knew she was on holiday with Draco?

They had never had a chance to take a holiday together; they were children, anyway, and she had been obsessed with her schoolwork. They wouldn't have found a weekend to get away, even had they wished to. A cup of pumpkin juice in Hogsmeade was as close to a romantic date as they had been able to muster. Hermione did not, in general, "get away" with men. Draco was the first person she had ever taken a holiday with who wasn't a blood relative. And he wasn't trying to romance her. The holiday was mutually beneficial for their sanity. Ron wouldn't understand how two grown adults who were not sleeping together could possibly enjoy themselves on a weekend at the sea. She was certain that he wouldn't understand anything about her relationship to Draco. Frankly, she didn't care what Ron thought-if he was infuriated, all the better. It would be the first honest emotion she got out of him in ages.

"Here." Draco touched her elbow and she realized the tea kettle was whistling. She jumped and flipped off the burner.

"I didn't even hear it," she said, blushing. "I must be sleeping standing up!"

Draco smiled sleepily and retrieved himself a mug from the cabinet. "I wasn't asleep. You and I had much the same idea. Except my drug of choice will be chamomile this evening-you'll never sleep after that orange zinger." He took the tea bag out of her mug and replaced it with a chamomile bag.

"We don't seem to be doing much of that anyway," Hermione said. She poured hot water into both mugs. "I… I got an owl."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "From Potter?"

"Yes. And Ginny. And also Ron."

"Merlin." He leaned back against the counter and waited for her to elaborate if she wanted to. Hermione sighed and swirled her tea bag in her mug. She fished the scroll from Ron out of her pocket.

"Apparently Ron wrote this and sent it along with Harry and Ginny for me."

"Merlin," Draco repeated. "Must be urgent if they sent it past midnight."

"That's what I thought too. But I'm honestly…" she trailed off. For what felt like the hundredth time that evening, she felt tears threatening.

"What?" he asked.

"I need you to do something for me and I hate myself for even asking," she whispered through her tears. "But maybe if you do it first, I can handle it. I won't sleep unless I know what it says. You'll probably say 'no' but-"

"But you haven't actually asked me yet," he chuckled.

Hermione smiled despite mounting anxiety. "Right. Um. Would you read this for me? And tell me if I should just burn it."

"I can see it means a lot to you," Draco said, taking the scroll gently from her fingers. "Sure, I'll read it."

Draco set down his mug. He stepped back from her and slowly unrolled the little paper. She studied his face as his eyes tracked across the paper. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly. When he finished, he paused for a moment before rolling it back up. Draco's eyes watched Hermione's feet as she shifted back and forth nervously. He finally looked up at her.

"Do you want me to tell you?" he asked.

"What kind of note is it?" She covered her mouth.

"It's… it's a solidly-written note. He has a lot to say, some of which is very personal…" he cleared his throat. "You should read it. It will drive you crazy if you don't."

"Is he trying to convince me he is sorry?"

Draco smiled despite obvious discomfort. "Not in so many words, no. Though Potter's right: he's clearly an idiot.."

She frowned. "You talked to Harry about Ron and me?" Hermione took the scroll back and stuffed it in her pocket. She hated the thought of Harry divulging anything to Draco. It was her life and he had no right.

"Just once, when I brought you flowers. I ran into Potter, asked after Weasley, he said that Ron's an idiot. I just wanted to know why he wasn't around," Draco said, scratching his head. "Honestly, it kind of pissed me off that he wasn't there for you in the hospital."

"I thought you didn't come to the Ministry that day." She felt hurt that he had lied. But what upset her most was that she actually felt… upset. At Draco. She let out a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. When she looked at Draco, he seemed sheepish. He was looking at the ground.

"I'm sorry," she said. She set her tea on the counter and braced her hands on the marble. "One note and I'm falling apart."

Draco held out his hand to her. She took it and grasped it tightly. He pulled her into his chest and she buried her face in his shirt.

"I'm not your enemy," he said gently, into her hair. "And you don't owe me an apology."

Hermione stepped back slightly, but his shirt was fisted in her hands. She was holding on for dear life. "What do I owe you?" she murmured. His face with just a hair's breath from hers. His eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again. Draco shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"You owe me nothing." His eyes softened. His head dipped towards hers, but he straightened. Hermione's heart began to race. She nodded.

"You've done so much. For me."

Draco tilted his head with just a hint of his boyhood smirk. He shook his head. "Let's get one thing straight, Granger: I owe you far more." Draco leaned back against the counter and patted her robe pocket. "Read, and then I'm sending you to sleep."

Hermione pulled the note out of her pocket right there, standing between Draco's feet, while he rested his hands on her hips. She took a deep breath and read.

Hermione,

I hardly know how to begin. It's been a very long time. I don't suppose you remember, but the last time we spoke, you told me to live well, and I believe I have done so, in my own way.

You've probably heard by now: Lavender has decided that she wants nothing to do with me. She's been seeing other blokes for ages, though I only just figured it out. Guess I was too busy focusing on trying to be the kind of man you said I could be, a man who sticks by his word, to notice that my wife didn't like being married to me. The kids and I are with mum and dad at the Burrow. Lav isn't pursuing custody. It's a clean break.

I heard about your accident and I felt sort of responsible for what happened. I wanted to be there for you, but I didn't know how after all these years. But I heard that someone was there in my place.

Do you really want to be involved with someone who made you so miserable? I suppose you know what you need better than anyone. I just don't want to see you get hurt.

I don't expect to hear from you, but I couldn't help but write you. Maybe it's nostalgia, or guilt. I always have cared deeply for you and that won't ever change.

Ron

Hermione groaned and crumpled the letter up again. She rested her forehead against Draco's chest. Ron had some nerve. He had no right to tell her how to live, or who to lean on. He had no idea who she was now. He didn't know what she needed. He didn't have a place by her side, or any right to assume she would have wanted him there with her.

She hadn't thought of him once through her whole ordeal.

"Want to burn it?" Draco asked.

Hermione looked up in surprise and laughed. Draco smiled back. She wanted nothing more than to turn Ron's words into smoke, and let them go. And let her grudge go with it.