We landed in Hermione's sitting room in the Pensieve, and there was soft music playing. I couldn't make out the lyrics, but the melody made my heart speed up and my breath catch in my throat. Present Granger looked over at me questioningly, and then she seemed to realise what was happening.

"You remember something?"

Pressing my fingers against my eyes, I said, "Not exactly. But the music, it's... I don't know it, but it's in my mind somewhere. I've obviously heard it before."

She winced. "The first trip we took together, we went to Cornwall for the weekend and it was playing in the bar we went to. You really liked it so I bought the CD and we listened to it all the time."

"What is it?"

"An American band called Lifehouse. This album was rather popular a handful of years ago," present Granger answered, thinking back. "I was going to play it for you the night you cancelled on me."

"Why didn't you do it the next time I came?" I asked.

"I... Well, I was still unsure where we stood and I panicked a little bit."

She'd been too nervous to, and she didn't want to admit that now. Rather than continue to push her, I looked around the room, taking in every detail.

There were two dishes set on the dining table, along with napkins and spoons. Flowers — deep red roses with greenery interspersed — sat in the center of the table, a lit candle on either side.

On the coffee table in the sitting room, there were chocolate truffles, a bottle of champagne chilling...

The start of a birthday celebration.

And memory Hermione was walking down the stairs in a red dress. It wasn't sexy and strappy like the one she'd worn in Paris. No, she'd opted for simple and comfortable, something with short sleeves and soft fabric that was perfect for a summer night around the house, but still pretty enough for memory Draco to enjoy.

"Fuck," I said, looking around. "You set all this up for me and I'm going to come here and break your heart."

Present Granger didn't say anything; she didn't have to. We both knew it was true.

Frowning, memory Hermione looked at the clock and moved towards the kitchen, her heels clicking along the floor with every step. Opening her freezer, she pulled out a carton of ice cream from Fortescue's and set it on the counter to let it soften a bit.

She stepped into her small washroom and looked in the mirror, checking her reflection. Scrunching her hair, she reapplied a lighter than usual shade of lipstick and coated her lashes in mascara.

Satisfied, she moved to her sofa and sat on the edge, impatiently watching the Floo and waiting for memory Draco to come through.

But he didn't.

After a while, she stood and marched back into the kitchen, shoving the ice cream back into the freezer and leaning against the refrigerator door, her fingers tangling in her hair. Her distress was clearly written across her face and, even though this had happened over two years ago, I felt guilty that I'd kept her waiting.

Instead of sitting on the sofa again, memory Granger walked over to her sitting room window, seemingly waiting for an owl from memory Draco to arrive. Nervous energy radiated off of her, travelling through the room in waves. She fidgeted with her hair, her dress, the curtains.

When I looked over at present Granger, I realised she was the same; she was twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands and watching the scene in front of us play out.

Without much thought, I settled a hand on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact but then relaxed, allowing me to comfort her as best I could. I felt her shift the smallest amount closer and tried to remember how to breathe properly.

She wasn't pushing me away.

Just as I started debating the merits of draping my arm over her shoulders, the Floo finally activated. Memory Hermione stayed at the window, squeezing her eyes shut, and memory Draco staggered out, his despair evident.

She didn't turn to face him, so his eyes settled on her back. It was stiff and ramrod straight.

"You're late," she said, not displaying any of her usual warmth.

Memory Draco took a step towards her. "I know. Fuck, I know."

"You're not even going to apologise this time?" memory Hermione said icily, slowly turning around.

When she saw his face, her anger seemed to cool. Rather than arguing, she quickly said, "What's wrong?"

Meeting her halfway, memory Draco threw his arms around her and pressed her to his chest. She tried to pull away and he just held her tighter.

"What's going on, Draco?" memory Hermione repeated. "Talk to me."

"I can't," he murmured against the skin of her neck. "I c-can't."

Hearing my own voice cracking was surreal to me; I hadn't expected that I'd display my emotions so openly, regardless of how I felt about her. In every memory leading up to this one, memory Draco had been loving but somewhat closed off.

From this angle, it was hard for me to see memory Hermione's face, but her hands stroked up and down memory Draco's back as he shook with the force of his sobs.

After a minute or so, he sank to his knees and buried his face in her dress, sobbing against her abdomen. He was refusing to speak or look at her and she was becoming more and more confused.

"Draco, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on," she coaxed, trying to get him to open up. "What happened?"

I paused the memory and turned to present Granger, gently squeezing her arm. "Did you know I was with Astoria before I came over?"

She nodded. "Honestly, at this point, I was thinking she'd simply found out about the affair and confronted you."

"Things couldn't have ever been that simple for us," I said, and I heard the remorse in my voice.

"Well, we can't really wish things were different without wishing Scorpius away and I'd never do that," present Granger replied with a sad smile. "But really, I thought you were here to tell me we couldn't see each other anymore."

After all this time — after all of this — she still cared about my son. She didn't want to go back in time and make him disappear, regardless of the pain she'd been through over the past two years. I'd recognised it before, but it felt even more significant during this particular memory and it filled my heart to bursting.

And then I couldn't stop myself. Without asking — without thinking — I grabbed her hand, lacing our fingers together and breaking the no skin-to-skin rule.

Reflexively, she tried to pull away, but I squeezed, keeping her hand in mine. I felt her magic, and it was clear she felt mine. Gooseflesh rose on the back of her hand and I stroked my thumb over it, comforting her and taking comfort from her in equal measure.

I felt the same warmth and jolt of magic I had when her hand had settled over mine to teach me the photo enhancement charm in her office weeks ago, and I savoured it. The connection, the closeness, the way I felt complete.

The pieces I'd been missing for years seemed to click into place, and my heart started to race, recognising the importance of this moment. Memory Hermione and Draco were frozen in front of us, him on his knees, desperately trying to hold onto her.

And here I was, somehow doing the same.

After a few seconds, she relaxed and squeezed my hand back. I looked over at her and noticed her eyes were closed and her lips were parted slightly. Her breathing had evened out, matching mine, and the uncomfortable tension that settled over us at the start of this memory dissipated. We calmed each other, and I understood it was likely our soul connection. Something completely out of our control.

I knew most of her planned memories were behind us already and the ones that we had left likely weren't happy. Hell, this one wasn't happy.

What would happen when we reached the end? Would she still want to see me?

Or would I lose her again?

Unwilling to think about the possibility of a future where I wouldn't see her at all, I made myself focus on the present.

Present Hermione's free hand settled in the crook of my elbow, likely trying to show me that she was fine with the contact between us and didn't want to let go either. I let myself enjoy the feeling rather than questioning it. I inhaled deeply, and I could smell the subtle floral notes of her shampoo, the perfume she was wearing. It wasn't the scent I loved, but it was calming all the same.

The riotous emotions I'd been feeling for the past two weeks were finally calming, our interwoven fingers bridging the divide inside of me.

Swallowing hard, I waved my hand and the memory resumed around us.

Again, memory Granger said, "Talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"I can't," he answered. "I can't say it."

She was terrified, her dark eyes blown wide with panic. One of her hands fisted in his hair, gently tugging his head back.

"You need to look at me," she stated, losing her patience. "I can't hear you properly, and I want to know what's put you in such a state."

Memory Draco's fingers curled, gripping and pressing into her hips.

Eventually, he spoke, though his words were muffled by her dress. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking s-sorry. Granger, you have to understand. P-Please—"

"In order for me to understand, you have to tell me what's going on," she snapped, her anxiety finally getting the better of her. Pulling his head back once more, she met his eyes. "What happened tonight?"

Memory Draco inhaled shakily. "She's p-pregnant. Astoria is—she's pregnant."

A look of horror crossed memory Hermione's face, and she froze.

After a very long silence, or what felt like a very long silence, she asked, "Is it yours?"

Memory Draco tried to hide his face again, but memory Hermione wouldn't let him; she held onto his hair and made him look her in the eyes.

Quietly, he confessed. "It could be. We—"

"You slept with her?" she asked, her voice cracking on a sob. She released him and brought her hand to her face.

"You really trusted me when I said I wasn't sleeping with her," I said, shocked by this. Up until a few days ago, she'd seemed to believe I'd been lying to her.

"That's why it shattered me," present Granger said, her voice quiet. "I'd believed you for so long and I felt like a fool."

I could feel her hands trembling. To still them, she held onto me tighter, and I was happy to be her anchor in this storm.

"Please, Hermione, let me explain—"

"NO!" she shouted, pulling away. "There is no acceptable explanation for this! You promised me that you weren't!"

Somehow, memory Draco managed to hold onto her while scrambling to his feet. "I wasn't, but then I did—only once—"

"Bullshit!" memory Hermione cried. "Do you know how rare it is for people to get pregnant by having sex 'just one time'?"

" D o you honestly think I want this? I've been trying to find a way out!"

She glared up at him. "Over a year later and you've started trying? I guess it's too little, too fucking late, Malfoy."

"Don't call me that," he replied.

Breaking out of his hold, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "It's your name. You call me Granger. How is it any different?"

"I never stopped calling you Granger. I can't even remember the last time you called me by my surname." He pushed his fringe back, looking for something to do with his hands. "And you certainly haven't said it in that tone."

"You slept with Astoria and got her p-pregnant! Everything has changed!"

Beside me, present Hermione sniffled and I saw tears running down her cheeks. She was reliving what had to be one of the most painful moments of her life so that she could be here for me while I watched it. That realisation threatened to knock the wind out of me. However, I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

"How was I supposed to get out of having sex with her on our anniversary? I'd taken the night off. I was at home with her all night and, regardless of what you and I are, I just... I felt like I had to," memory Draco said.

I watched as memory Hermione's face morphed into a look of disgust.

"Fake a fucking headache!" she sobbed. "People do it every day!"

"And you think that I don't? That I haven't lied to her every single night since you and I started this relationship?"

There was so much pain written across memory Hermione and memory Draco's features. She'd moved out of his reach and he stood frozen, unsure if he should close the distance between them again.

As she covered her face with her hands, she said, "You could've left. Months ago, Draco. You could've ended it and you never did."

"I should have," he admitted, taking a cautious step towards her. "But I wasn't sure you wanted more. Not until Paris."

"That was four months ago!" memory Hermione shrieked. "Four months ago! And, if you're telling the truth, you knew how I felt two months before you slept with Astoria—"

"I know that," he said, quickly wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close again. He settled a hand on the back of her skull. "Look at me. Please."

Her eyes fluttered open, shining with tears and pain. Pain that I'd caused through my inaction, my selfishness. How could I have done this to her — to the woman I'd loved for years?

And now I was forcing her to relive it, every single second of gut-wrenching angst.

I had to apologise.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, looking over at present Hermione. She turned and met my eyes. "Hermione, I am so fucking sorry that I put you through all of this."

Rather than replying, she simply nodded, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She was still holding my hand and it felt so right. Her fingers fit perfectly between mine, as if they were made to fill the spaces, and she wasn't trying to move away.

I wondered if she could feel the tingles that I did, the tiny sparks of magic that emitted with the strong emotions we were feeling.

Memory Draco spoke again. "Hermione, I know that this is all my fault, okay? And I realise that you're probably going to walk away and I'm going to have to watch you move on with someone else—"

"Stop," she demanded. "Just fucking stop. After what you've done, you don't get to make me feel guilty!"

"I'm not trying to, I swear."

Overwhelmed, she pressed her fingers into her eyes. " You need to let me go."

"I can't. I've tried to let you go since I was eighteen years old, and—"

"You've had me for over a year!" She slipped out of his arms and put distance between them. "Over a year, Draco, and you never tried to leave her!"

"I have been! Since April—"

"Since you had sex with Astoria," she interrupted, her voice full of ice. "Since your anniversary, where you took her to dinner and put on a show for the whole world to see and then fucked her, instead of coming here like you'd promised."

Memory Draco looked down at the floor, ashamed by his actions. Or his inaction. There was nothing he could say to calm her, nothing he could do to make things right between them again. Eventually, he brought his hands to his face, raking his fingertips down his cheeks slowly.

"What, after I wouldn't let you in, you suddenly decided that you wanted to be with me and not her?"

"No, it wasn't like that, Hermione! I swear, I've known what I wanted since the beginning—"

"Well, you have a really funny way of showing it!" she spat. "Did you ever think that maybe I held back with you because you were married?"

I could hear memory Hermione's quiet sobs, present Hermione's sniffles. I could feel the tension between our memory selves. But I couldn't begin to imagine how the relationship carried on from this point.

"You need to go," memory Hermione said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "I can't be with you. Not anymore."

He looked at her pleadingly, his grey eyes dark and tumultuous, brimming with more tears.

"Hermione," he began, taking a step towards her. When she didn't back away, he continued. "I don't know what to do to fix this, but I don't want to lose you ."

" We can't keep carrying on this way ," she replied quietly. " Your wife is pregnant. There's a child in the picture now— "

Encircling her in his arms, memory Draco held her close again. "I love you. I love you so fucking much. I can't—I can't lose you."

"I love you too," memory Hermione began, "but I hate you for putting us in this position ."

His hands stroked over her hair, pressing her face into his chest as she started to cry again. "I know. I'm so sorry. I've never been brave. I've never deserved you."

She didn't contradict him, and I couldn't blame her for it.

Dropping kisses to the crown of her head, he held her, crying and trying to soak up every last second they had left together.

"Why didn't you push me away?" I asked present Granger.

Her eyes closed, forcing more tears to roll down her cheeks. I wanted to brush them away, but I didn't let myself.

"Because I wasn't ready to let you go," she replied honestly. "I didn't really have anyone, Draco. You know that."

"Blaise—"

"Was my friend, yes, but I was so embarrassed." She released my arm, bringing her free hand up to her face to wipe away her tears. Even though she was still holding my hand, I already felt the connection lessening. "He had been telling me to end things from the beginning, and I thought this just proved him right, you know?"

I nodded, waving my hand to pause the memory in front of us so she could continue.

"Ron was always the type to give me an 'I told you so' or make me feel worse, and I was afraid Blaise would do the same." Holding onto my hand, she swivelled her body so she could look me in the eyes. "Deep down, I didn't know what I wanted or how to handle this. I was completely in love with you, and something inside of me broke that night."

"And then Blaise put it back together," I stated, even though I wasn't sure if it was true.

Present Hermione shook her head. "I thought he had, but I don't think I ever fully healed. I couldn't trust him, and once you were back, he didn't trust me either. It turned into a toxic, jealous mess."

We were standing close, our fingers still linked, and I wanted nothing more than to embrace her. I tried to keep my eyes focused on hers, rather than allowing them to dart down to her lips. She seemed to be waging the same war with herself.

Rather than staying silent, I said, "Is there anything else we need to watch in this memory? Or can we talk?"

I felt her tremble as she moved back to my side, resuming her hold on my arm. "There's a little bit more."

Immediately, I missed the eye contact — it made it easier for me to see what she was feeling.

She waved her hand and the sounds of their pain resumed around us — tears, sniffles, murmured words — and then memory Draco spoke up.

"Can I stay?"

Memory Granger stiffened in his arms. "I don't think that's a good idea."

He pulled back to meet her eyes, mirroring the position present Hermione and I had just been in. She tried to turn away from him, but when he sobbed, she reached up and touched his face.

"Draco, we need to—We can't do this anymore. You're going to have a ch-child," she said, her voice faltering. "You can't be with m-me."

"I need time to figure it all out. I don't—I c-can't imagine not being here," he answered while tears slid down his cheeks. "I'll find a way, I swear—"

"Stop lying to me. If you were going to find a way, you would've by now. It's been over a year."

Despite the distance that her words put between them, she still hadn't stepped away. I glanced over at present Granger, and she said, "I couldn't let go, even if I knew I had to. Not right away."

I squeezed her hand in mine, trying to reassure her or give her a bit more strength. Or maybe I was trying to steal some of her courage since I'd clearly never had any of my own.

"I'm so sorry," memory Draco said, burying his face in her hair. "I know there isn't anything I can say to make this better."

Instinctively, I somehow knew he was breathing her in, inhaling her perfume and her skin. Savouring every second he had left with her since he knew they were slipping away, like sand falling in an hourglass.

She squeezed her eyes shut again; she needed to soak up what she assumed were the last few precious moments they'd share just as much as he did.

After a few minutes of silence, memory Hermione cleared her throat and said, "You can stay, but only tonight. And we're not having sex."

He finally released her and met her eyes. "Just tonight. I won't ask again."

Even I knew that she'd said variations of this over and over through the course of their relationship — just tonight, only once — but she'd never stuck to it. We were both like addicts, desperate for our next fix, hitting the highest of highs and lowest of lows.

She blinked rapidly and turned towards the dining table, extinguishing the candles that had been burning for far too long. Fighting a losing battle with keeping her fresh tears at bay, she moved to the sofa and he tentatively sat down beside her, opening his arms. With a shake of her head, she rebuffed him and curled up in the corner — the same one she favoured now — and tucked her legs beneath herself.

For whatever reason, I was surprised when we were tossed from the Pensieve. I hadn't expected the scene to end there. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I spiralled into my own memory, finding myself at the solicitor's office once more.

I felt present Hermione's hands on my face and heard her voice like she was speaking to me from a distance. She was calling my name, but she could wait. I had to know what I'd done next.

I was wearing the same clothes I'd had on in the memory we'd just watched, my shirt and trousers looking like I'd slept in them. The panic I felt was clear on my face as I banged on the door to the office frantically. When it finally swung open, I stepped through and came face to face with the solicitor again.

"Please tell me there's a way out of this. I need that divorce."

The solicitor sighed and shook his head. "Over the centuries, the Malfoys have done more than most to preserve their bloodline. I'm sure you know that."

I nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"You gave me a very large document. It's going to take some time to go through, especially since I have billable cases that need to take priority over your silly little marital problem."

Through gritted teeth, I replied, "It's not silly. It's very real, and I'm in danger of losing the love of my life. My soulmate. I'll pay you whatever you want. "

"I have someone looking into the contract with the names redacted, but it would be much easier if you just got your father—"

"You and I both know that he won't let me divorce Astoria. I can hear him in my head now — 'Draco, there hasn't ever been a divorce in the Malfoy line. We were all matched to ensure a pure line.'"

"If you really want this, I think it's worth taking the chance," the solicitor replied.

"But, if he knows, he can try to block whatever loopholes may be there!" I exclaimed, my hands fisting in my hair. "You don't understand. My whole life, he's planned this for me!"

I'd been completely unhinged, terrified at the prospect of being a father and losing Hermione in equal measure. But I never told the solicitor about Astoria's pregnancy, and he didn't ask what had brought me to the office in such a state.

"I'm sorry, but as of right now, I have no options for you, Mr. Malfoy."

With a groan of frustration, I stormed out of the office in the same manner I'd entered it, quickly Disapparating away.

When I came back to myself, I realised that I had slumped down to the floor. Hermione was kneeling in front of me, holding my hand rather than touching my face. Her brown eyes were filled with terror and she looked like she was ready to send a Patronus hurtling off somewhere.

"I'm okay," I groaned, squeezing her hand.

"You're not," she snapped. "You just zoned out for several minutes—"

"Really, I'm fine, Hermione. I just remembered another visit to the solicitor. There's nothing wrong with me."

Staring at me sceptically, she took a deep breath. "I wish I knew which memories were going to trigger you to remember something else."

I reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. "I wish I had told you more about what I was doing behind the scenes. If you'd known, I doubt we'd be in this situation."

My hand came to rest on the side of her neck, her hair acting as a barrier between my palm and her skin. Her wild curls were softer than I'd ever imagined they would be and I wanted to run my fingers through them.

"We've always had terrible timing and communication skills," she said quietly, leaning into my touch for just a second before pulling away.

Once she'd gotten to her feet, she extended a hand to me, helping me up. I didn't want to let go but we'd been playing with fire all night. With each passing second of contact, I'd felt her magic mending something inside of me. I wondered if it had been the same for her.

With a final squeeze, I released her hand and gestured towards the sofa. She sat in her usual corner and I settled into the chair opposite her.

"This was the hardest thing we've seen yet," I said, meeting her eyes. "I just, I don't even know what to say."

"I don't either," Hermione admitted. "I obviously knew you felt guilty, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. And Blaise, he didn't help things."

"Let me guess. After you told him, he agreed with you and said there was no way I'd only slept with her one time."

She nodded and I felt an angry flush crawling into my cheeks. I wanted to yell at her and ask how she could've believed Blaise over me, but the answer was simple — I'd never been entirely honest with her, just like he hadn't.

Internally, I directed my anger towards Blaise. He was supposed to be my best fucking mate and he'd stolen her, quite literally, out from under me. While I'd been a shit boyfriend and the worst possible husband to Astoria, he'd made sure I didn't have time to set things straight, all because he wanted Hermione for himself.

"Did you love him?" I asked, the question slipping from my lips before I could stop it.

We'd talked about Blaise before, and I knew that he'd loved her — or been obsessed with her — but I'd never asked her about her feelings towards him. Seconds passed and they felt longer than they were. Adrenaline flooded my body, making me focus on every little sound more intently.

Inhaling shakily, she replied, "No, I didn't. Not in the way he wanted me to."

I felt instant relief; the tension in my shoulders dissipated and my heart slowed. But then another unwanted thought invaded my mind.

Rather than holding it back, I let it out. "Do you think you would've? If I hadn't come back?"

"There's no way for me to know." Hermione twisted her hair in her hands, piling it atop her head and leaning back on the sofa. "And honestly, I don't want to think about it. Anyone who could just leave me the way he did… He might have thought he loved me, but he clearly didn't."

I agreed with her wholeheartedly, though I didn't say it aloud.

"We held hands," she said nervously.

"We did."

"Should we talk about it?"

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Do you think we should?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Probably."

"Do you want to?"

"Not particularly." Making eye contact, she said, "It was… Nice."

"Nice," I repeated, testing the word. "Yes, I suppose it was nice. It felt natural."

"Comfortable. Like we'd done it a thousand times before."

"We probably have."

"Definitely," she answered, stifling a smile. "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked, puzzled.

"For being there. That was really hard, and the hand holding — touching you — it made it easier for me. It calmed me down. I'd forgotten how good it felt."

My words got stuck in my throat, so I just nodded at her, lost in my own thoughts. Mainly, I wanted to tell her that her hand in mine had been one of the best things I'd ever felt in my life. The tingly feeling, the wave of calm that had washed over me while we watched the memory…

Our broken pieces still fit together perfectly and, with each step we took towards each other, it seemed more and more like fate bringing us back together again.

Did we even have a choice in the matter? Or would our connection force it?

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I cared either way.

I still loved her, even after everything she'd taken away from me.

Author's Note: Hop on over to AO3 or my Tumblr to see artwork from the extremely talented Nikita Jobson! Next update will be Saturday, June 5th... Draco's birthday!