A/N: We're rapidly approaching the end! This work is going to cap out at 32 chapters. Thank you all for sticking with me so far and continuing to read and support me. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the work up to this point.

March 1999—

March came with a bang as Ron showed up in Hogsmeade to host a raging party at the Three Broomsticks. Of the three of them, he was enjoying the effects of his fame far more than Harry or Hermione. He had picked the Saturday night following his birthday, and all of-age sixth- and seventh-year students at Hogwarts were invited. And—somehow—he had managed to secure McGonagall's open permission for the students to attend. With minimal coaxing for Hagrid, he also had arranged extremely late carriage rides from Hogsmeade back to the castle. Hermione privately suspected Hagrid agreed solely as an excuse to drink with Harry. As they undoubtedly would for the rest of their lives, Hermione knew he and Harry had kept in close contact through letters and less-frequent-than-desired visits from Harry. Hagrid, for his part, was beyond understanding about their busy lives. She, herself, had visited him with Ginny only briefly and seldom. He never questioned her or pressured any of them, and Hermione had a feeling he knew better than anyone what it was like to have unwanted attention when trying to figure out their life.

Hermione, of course, was in attendance at Ron's mega-party. She smiled and hugged everyone she saw. She chatted and laughed and sipped at her drink. And inside, she was dying. Draco was not with her that night, though not quite by choice. He had an unofficial (yet very understandable) lifelong ban from any establishment owned or frequented by Madam Rosmerta. He had never told Hermione the whole story of it, but he had gone once to the Three Broomsticks to apologize to her, and she had accepted it. After that, Draco had agreed to never appear in her life again.

No one questioned his absence. Harry, Ginny, and George must have wordlessly coordinated her support, as they took turns at her side rather than forcing her to mingle all night on her own. Others either recognized not to ask or did not care where Draco was. If she dug down and admitted the truth, it was for the best, as not a single Slytherin was in attendance.

That reminded her, Where was Blaise?

Ron, despite being rather occupied with celebrating and with Susan Bones, kept popping up to hug Hermione and rope her into one hilarious conversation after the next. He was still trying to make things up to her, and for once, he seemed to recognize the magnanimity of debt he owed for her forgiveness.

Around them, people drank and danced. She spotted Neville pulling Hannah close as they swayed to the music. Ginny and Harry were laughing riotously with Seamus. Dean was chatting with Lee Jordan and Angelina while George orchestrated arranging a variety of merchandise. Luna was in the middle of the room, arms in the air, dancing by herself with a dreamy smile on her face.

When Ron next came around, his speech was slurred, and his eyes glazed. He attacked her with bear hugs again—she wheezed dramatically—then he pulled her off to the side.

In a very serious, albeit stilted, tone, he said, "I was never good enough to you. I know that now. I used you for your brains. I didn't thank you. I would've failed everything except for you." His eyes were uncharacteristically dark, and Hermione did not dare interrupt. He looked like he needed to make this confession. "I see it now, why you're with him. He notices you—Merlin's sack, that's not it. His eyes are always on you. He never doesn't see you. Does that make sense?"

Hermione laughed. "Thank you, Ron."

"You're always right, alright? All the time, you were right, and you are right. I mean it. You're the best person. Best friend. Better than me."

"Don't say that."

"But I really fucked up."

"Yes, but now you're here, and I forgive you. And it's your birthday party! Let's just be happy."

His face split into a grin.

"Oy!" George yelled. "Who wants to try our new Floating Candy Floss!?"

The crowd roared, and George beckoned Ron to join him on the tabletop, where they began floating cellophane packages across the room to eagerly awaiting hands. Students all over began hopping up and down trying to pluck the puffy little clouds out of the air, some going so far as to climb up on tables and chairs until Madam Rosmerta started yelling.

Hermione just shook her head and smiled.

Ron groaned—again.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

Draco, having not had anything to drink the night before, smirked.

"We get it, Ron," snapped Harry, rubbing his temples. "You're not the only one who drank too much."

"Uuunnnhhh," (Salazar's sack. Such a fucking a drama queen.) "but you didn't have nineteen shots poured down your throat."

"Those were butterbeer shots," Ginny snapped this time. Of the lot of them, she was the most put together. Draco understood more and more why Hermione and Potter liked her so much.

"How long do you think she's going to take?" Ron asked.

Ron was looking to him. Draco shook his head. The amount of time waiting had not even crossed his mind. All he could think about was Hermione. Would it be good news? Hopeful news? Or—the thing he was dreading—slim odds. He just wanted one thing to go her way. She deserved the whole fucking world, and maybe, just maybe, if she had her parents back, he could find a way to deserve her. To not be the cause of everything horrible in her life. So, he sat with her friends pouring all of his will into just one sodding win for her. Even if it meant she had to leave for a while. Even if it meant her removing herself from him. Being tied to him certainly did her no favors, even if she claimed to want it. To want him.

"Would anyone like a gurdyroot tea?" Draco did not need to look up to know who had joined the party. A hand clapped him on the back, signaling the simultaneous arrival of Blaise.

"It's a very good hangover cure," said Lovegood, sipping from her foul-smelling tea cup.

"NO," the others all said in unison.

"It's good for the digestion too, Draco."

Having not drank last night, he had considered himself exempt from her first question. This time, he shook his head. "Thanks, Lovegood," he muttered.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him.

Draco frowned. He always had good manners. His mother would have killed him otherwise. But not with them, he realized. He closed a door in his mind on the feeling of shame that bubbled up. Let the past be the past.

"Hi," a soft voice whispered at his side. Her voice.

The others around him were reacting dramatically, the exact opposite of what she would want. Ron jumped, offering up his chair. Harry straightened his back and gave Hermione his full attention. Ginny stretched out a hand. Draco could see plain as day that she hated it. She froze, looking between them with wide eyes.

He looked up at her from the bench he had claimed in their alcove. He had made sure there was space for her already when he picked that spot. Still, he scooted down just an inch, and she exhaled as she dropped into the seat beside him. He pressed the outside of his thigh flush to hers, and she rewarded him with her hand on his leg. He took it in his own.

They all waited. The difference between them, Draco was annoyed to observe, was that he did his best to radiate calm for her. The others, except for Luna and Blaise who were whispering quietly to each other and ignoring everyone else, were on the edge of their seats. Morons.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I take my N.E.W.T.s over Easter break. Then—" she hesitated, and her eyes turned to his. "I leave Hogwarts for Australia."

It was a good fucking thing Draco studied Occlumency. Outwardly, he smiled at her and squeezed her hand a little tighter. She deserved all of his support.

Inwardly, behind a locked door in his mind, his heart shattered into pieces as the floor fell out beneath him.

Hermione steadied herself as she walked towards the alcove where she had left Draco and her friends nearly an hour ago. She was not worried about most of them, but she was terrified of how her decision would affect Draco. The others will understand.

She crept in and found herself at Draco's side.

"Hi," she whispered to him.

They all jumped up to help her. Except Draco. He tensed slightly, but otherwise he was calm. She looked to him. Her rock. When had that happened?

He had already made room for her on his bench, and she smiled inwardly as she sat. His thigh immediately pressed to hers, steadying her. In his own way, he was showing her every bit as much support as her more vocal friends. She placed a grateful hand on his thigh, and he took it in his own. Warmth flooded through her.

Deep breath.

"I take my N.E.W.T.s over Easter break. Then—" Say it. Say it. "I leave Hogwarts for Australia."

She looked straight into Draco's eyes. Something in them closed for a brief second, then he smiled. He squeezed her hand. He was okay.

"Wow, that's huge," said Harry.

"What are their odds of recovery right now? I mean, if you're going, does that mean the odds are good?" asked Ginny.

Luna decided that was the moment to join their conversation. She turned from Blaise and said, "There are a lot of bunyips in Australia, Hermione. Would you like a charm to protect you? Daddy invented a really good one."

"Taking N.E.W.T.s in April? Barmy," Blaise added in.

Hermione felt the panic start to rise in her. At her side, Draco went rigid.

"I'M LEAVING THE ACADEMY," Ron bellowed.

All eyes flew to him.

Hermione exhaled.

Harry recovered himself first. "What?"

"I'm leaving the academy," Ron said more slowly. "The party wasn't just about my birthday. I'm joining George at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Not as an owner or anything, but helping him with product development, testing, sales, basically anywhere he needs a hand. Eventually, we might each manage a shop so he doesn't have to keep hopping back and forth between locations."

Everyone was silent. Even Blaise's eyebrows had frozen up near his hairline.

After nearly a full minute, she heard Draco at her side clear his throat. "Congrats, mate."

The tension snapped. Harry clapped Ron on the back. Ginny smiled and punched him in the arm. Then, Hermione got up and smothered him in a hug. Judging by the way he gripped her and buried is face into her hair, he knew exactly what he was doing by interrupting her.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered in Ron's ear. Her heart filled with warmth.

"Fanksh, 'Mione," he said through a mouthful of her hair, and he gave her an extra little squeeze.

She knew what he was really saying.

It will be all right.

"Who can define cosmic rays for me?"

Hermione raised her hand (at a perfectly normal speed, thank you very much).

"Miss Granger," called Professor Sinistra.

"They are atomic nuclei that travel in space at roughly the speed of light."

"Five points to Gryffindor. And for another five points, who can tell me their magical relevance?"

Hermione raised her hand again, but this time Professor Sinistra called on Padma.

"They transfer magical potential energy to the atmosphere upon impact."

"Five points to Ravenclaw. Many astromagi believe that cosmic rays are the primary source of atmospheric recharging that exists for magic. Others believe that the magical core of Earth is self-replenishing through the transition of matter to its various states. Yet others, which we in the astronomical community refer to as sun purists, believe that the various types of rays emitted from the sun alone, which does include some cosmic rays, contribute to Earth's magical balance."

Quills around the room scratched as she spoke.

"For today's focus, you will return to groups. I will divide the class up and assign you one of these three theories. Each group will present a well-researched argument in our next class for why your assigned viewpoint is superior."

She waved her wand, and notes on the assignment appeared on the board at the front of the room. Then, she sectioned off the class based on immediate proximity, which paired the four Head Students together.

Padma flashed Hermione a worried look, which she covertly returned.

Hermione arranged her parchment and quill, ready to take notes for their group. "Where shall we begin?" she asked the other three generally.

Sixty seconds passed in the longest and most awkward silence of Hermione's life.

Finally, Ernie spoke up. "Maybe we start with Copernicus and his contribution as unofficial founder of sun purism?"

Hermione's quill scratching filled the space between them.

"What do you think, Malfoy?" Ernie asked.

Padma audibly gasped.

Risking a glance up, Hermione looked first to Draco, then to Ernie. She could see a battle flickering behind Draco's eyes. Ernie looked to be holding his breath as he awaited his verdict.

"I agree, but I think we should mention the Muggle groups, like the Ancient Greeks, who found the same thing hundreds of years before modern wizards."

"Do we know that they were Muggle-only civilizations? Copernicus is well-known among Muggles too, despite being a wizard. Is that worth mentioning?"

"Almost every ancient civilization had wizards and witches living or hiding in them. It's still safe to call those Muggle discoveries."

Padma and Ernie nodded thoughtfully. Hermione responded by biting her lip and raking her eyes over Draco's body. His casual posture and his open expression heated her at her core. It was taking all her self control to not jump him in the middle of class.

They continued to plan and collaborate for the first time on even ground. Instead of the usual silence on the way back to their Head common room, the four chatted and laughed and made plans to complete the assignment over the next week.

Back in the common room, Draco hung back as usual, waiting for Hermione to decide if this was a night they spent together or apart. He always let her lead this choice, which she appreciated more than she could explain. He never pushed her when she decided she needed a night to herself. He always gave her space to do her nightly routine on her own, regardless of sleeping quarters. The quiet respect he offered her filled her heart to the brim.

"My room tonight?" she asked.

He nodded, stifling a yawn.

When he joined her shortly after, pajama clad and tasting minty, she sat on the corner of her bed, facing him at the headboard with legs tucked beneath her. Her body told her to climb atop him, especially after that Muggle-supporting comment in class, but her mind told her she could not push off talking to him. Not again.

A blond eyebrow raised at her.

Her brain won her internal fight, but just barely. She steeled her nerves.

"Draco, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What are your plans after Hogwarts?"

His mouth formed a thin line as he appraised her. "We've had this conversation. What's the real question you want to ask me?"

She fidgeted with her quilt. "Well, that depends a lot on what plans you've settled with. It could've changed."

"No, it hasn't. I plan to help my mother with the Manor until I figure out what I want to do. Take a gap year, maybe, as the Muggles call it." He smirked at her, knowing full well she would be happy at his correct use of a Muggle term.

"Would you ever… consider visiting me? In Australia?"

His face fell.

"You wouldn't have to visit for long if you didn't want to. But maybe, if your mother is doing okay, it could be for longer?"

She could hear the pitch of her voice raising.

Draco still had not said anything. His jaw grew tight. His lips were pressed together so tightly, they were white.

"You don't have to, of course. I just don't know how often I'll be able to visit. And I do want to visit you, Draco. But, what if I'm there for a long time? The Healer said to expect a minimum of a year."

"A year?" he finally asked, though it was more of a croak.

"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't tell you yesterday. I've been trying to find the right time."

He shook his head, dismissing her apology.

"You don't have to answer right now, but I don't know how I'll make it a whole year without you. You're so important to me. I—" She broke off as she felt tears prickle her eyes.

Draco was frozen.

"Say something," she whispered to him.

He looked at her, and with that one look, she could feel his heart shattering in time with her own.

"Hermione," he said, forcing the words out, "I can't."

The words smacked her as hard as a physical blow. She wanted to scream at him. To turn away and sob herself hoarse. She knew she was asking a lot, hoping he would uproot his life for months at a time, but she thought she was worth it to him. She thought they meant more to each other.

When he spoke again, his voice was broken. "My parole. I can't. I can't travel outside Britain for two more years."

"What!?" She practically shouted it.

"I thought you knew."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. How would I know?

As if to answer her internal question, he said, "Its public record. It was printed in the Prophet, even."

"Oh," was all she managed.

They sat in absolute silence, neither one quite meeting the other's eye.

He broke it at last: "Fuck. I'm sorry."

On another day, the apology would have meant something to her. She would have wanted to comfort him. She would want to be the strong one who would say everything was okay, and they would survive this. But the words did not come.

Draco's mood turned dark. She could see him collapsing in on himself. She knew that loathing look in his eyes, but rather than directing it at her, as he might have seven years ago, he instead aimed it within.

They held each other that night with tight desperation. Sleep on both ends was scant. Come morning, Hermione felt unrested and alone.

"So, that's it, you're just gone for a year?"

Hermione nodded. "Or more."

"Or more?" Ginny's eyes were full of shock.

"The Healer says that extended daily contact and rigid routines will help their minds with the healing process. It's best to do this in Australia rather than transition them home first, where everything would feel new to them."

"Yes, that makes sense."

Hermione looked down to the mug of hot cocoa in her hands and counted the marshmallows.

One, two, three, four…

"Maybe Malfoy could petition the Wizengamot to lift his parole under controlled circumstances?" Ginny suggested.

…five, six, seven…

"That won't work," said Luna. "The Wizengamot is run by werewolves. But I'm sure Draco could take a contraband portkey."

…eight, nine…

"Luna, do you hear yourself? You want him to violate his parole with an illegal magical artifact?"

…ten, eleven…

"Daddy published and excellent article in the Quibbler about—"

…twelve.

She burst. "Draco is not petitioning the Wizengamot, and he is not purchasing anything illegal. We have our Twinned Quills, that fortunately have strong enough enchantments to work half-way around the globe—"

"Another perk of being rich," Ginny smirked.

"—and I will find days to travel home by registered international portkey as often as I can. We'll make this work. One year in the rest of our lives will be just a tiny blip."

"Are you and Draco spending your lives together?" Luna asked. (Hermione choked.) "Oh, that's wonderful. I hope that you do."

She felt her cheeks heat and dared a glance at Ginny, who was letting her cocoa dribble out the side of her mug onto the floor. Ginny's jaw was slack but still held a faint smile.

"I knew he was in love with you!" she shrieked. "He's said it, hasn't he?" Then, at Hermione's deeper blush, she gasped, "You've both said it! Oh, Hermione, this is so great!"

Ginny wrapped both her and Luna in a giant hug, sloshing hot cocoa all over the floor.

Suddenly, they were thirteen-year-old girls again squealing with glee over a boy.

When they broke apart, Ginny redirected the conversation to Luna, giving Hermione some much-needed time to breathe.

"So, what's going on now with you and Zabini?"

"Oh, not much," Luna said in her sing-song voice, "but let me tell you about the wonderful things he can do with his tongue."