June 5, 1998

The room was shrouded in darkness. The curtains drawn, the lights switched off. There was a terrible pounding on the front door but Hermione could not move to answer it.

She could not sleep or eat.

She could only exist.

Breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And even that seemed to hurt.

The little light coming through the gaps in the curtain hurt.

The silence hurt.

The noise hurt.

There was nothing that felt safe. No part of her that didn't feel empty.

She was skin and bone and a beating heart.

The pounding continued and she considered that perhaps the world was ending outside her flat.

A loud crack followed.

Then another, and still she didn't budge.

They were just sounds; meaningless echoes.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron burst through her room door, their wands drawn and looking wild.

"Hermione," said Ginny breathlessly. "We were calling you and…" she looked around the room, "why didn't you answer? Are you okay?"

She blinked. Her throat felt hoarse and incapable of speech, so she simply nodded.

Sitting down on the bed alongside her, Ginny asked, "You sure?"

With painstaking effort, she slowly formed the words, "I'm fine."

"Harry," said Ginny to him gently. "Go get some water."

He left, leaving Ron to linger awkwardly at the foot of her bed. "Why didn't you respond to our letters?" he demanded and she could hear the reproach in his voice.

She felt so exhausted with all their questions. Why, why, why? Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone?

After taking a moment to clear her throat, she said that she'd been busy.

The two siblings shared a look of concern.

"Busy?" echoed Ginny eyeing the state of the room once again. "Busy with what?"

She explained that she'd been looking for Draco. That today was his birthday and she'd bought him a gift and wanted to give it to him.

"Hermione…" Ginny slowly took her hand in hers, tears glistening in her eyes. She raised it to her lips but paused, her eyes growing wide.

"Where's your bracelet?" she asked. "You've taken it off?"

For a moment she didn't know. Had forgotten she ever had one. It was like trying to recall a very old memory. What had she done with the bracelet? Where had she been all this while? How much time had passed since she found the coin? These were all the things she had wanted to forget but they were making her remember.

"I created a spell," she murmured softly. "A tracking spell. I thought if I could use the bracelet—"

Someone clicked their tongue in irritation. Hermione paused and slowly turned her head. Seated languidly at her dressing table was Draco. She rubbed the drowsiness out of her eyes and raised herself to sit up.

Maybe she was still sleeping and this was a dream.

"You thought you could use the bracelet," he drawled with a roll of his eyes. "Silly little witch. Should've known not to give you something so delicate—"

"Hermione?"

Her gaze found Ginny's.

"You were saying, about the bracelet…"

But Draco was still speaking to her.

"—can't trust you with anything—"

Harry walked in with a glass of water in his hand. "Here you go," he said trying and failing, to smile.

"—and now you have nothing left of me."

She took it, her fingers trembling and drained the entire glass.

"It's alright," he sighed. "I'll buy you another… you know I'd give you the world if you asked for it."

She cringed at the sharp clarity of the hallucination as if he were really here in her room—and that's what it was, a hallucination. Her eyes pressed shut, praying it would stop. But when she opened them Draco was still there dressed in his Hogwarts uniform, the Slytherin tie hung loosely around his neck.

Ginny frowned. Slowly, she looked over to the dressing table to where Draco was sitting. "What is it?" she asked. "What happened to the bracelet? Is it on your dressing table or in your—?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to ignore him. He wasn't real. "The spell—"

Draco gave her a small smile. "Merlin I miss you—"

"The spell consumed it and—"

"Every moment I'm not with you—"

And the past began to echo in her ears, his molten silver eyes like burning memory.

"—I'm waiting to be with you."

She took a moment to catch her breath. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want anyone to know. She wanted to be fine.

"'Mione, what's wrong?"

"Are you alright—is she alright?"

Hermione buried her hands in her hair and tugged at the roots. It was too much. Everyone was speaking at the same time but she could only hear a chorus of, I'm waiting.

And she just wanted everyone to shut the hell up. Most of all him.

"I'm waiting."

"I know," she choked, tears stinging her eyes. "I know—"

"You know?" said Harry looking cautiously around the room. "Hermione, who are you speaking to?"

Draco bolted up from the chair, his face suddenly twisted in derision. "Then help me!"

A tear escaped.

And then another, and another.

She pushed the heel of her palms into her eyes to make it stop.

Taking deep breaths, she began again, "I needed something… his essence… his magic… the spell consumed it—"

A soft sob escaped her.

"The bracelet was all I had," she whispered. "It worked though, it led me to a cliff, the one Greyback…the one he…" She found she couldn't finish, so she showed them instead. She put her hand under her pillow and revealed a galleon.

Harry looked at it for a moment before comprehension dawned on his face. His knowing green eyes met hers and they were full of regret and pity.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"You said you loved me."

Her fingers curled around the protean-charmed coin, pressing it tightly into her palm.

"You said you loved me."

Cracking under the weight of his accusation, she swore to him, "I do, I do love you!"

"Hermione—?"

"Then why haven't you found me yet!"

Locking her eyes on his, she screamed back, "BECAUSE YOU'RE DEAD!" and it came out a mangle of noise, barely coherent words. Her chest heaved and a wail of agony left her throat, piercing the ether and shattering the windows and mirror.

"PROTEGO!" yelled Ron.

A shield charm appeared in time to protect them from the shards of glass, and their eyes were wide with shock and fear.

"He's dead," she sobbed. "He's dead, he's dead, he's really dead."

And she couldn't stop saying it.

Her friends fell around her, holding her tightly and even then, she still kept saying it.

Because there was no one at the dressing table. Draco was gone. She'd finally admitted it and he was gone.

But Harry, Ron, and Ginny hadn't been figments of her imagination and they were with her. They loved her. And still twenty-seven days passed before she spoke again; before she understood that her body would continue to go on living, despite her heart not wanting to.

May 2001

The gates of Zabini manor were open and Hermione admired the water fountain at the center of the large front gardens, gushing beautiful pastel hues against the afternoon light. The night of Pansy and Blaise's wedding, it had been bubbling sparkling champagne, an idea which Daphne had taken credit for with boastful bridesmaid pride.

Zabini's family home was even larger than Malfoy manor but less ostentatious, almost simpler. Hermione found she quite liked it. It was less intimidating than Theo's and had given her somewhat happy memories unlike Draco's.

She was about to knock on the door when an immaculately dressed elf opened it swiftly.

"May I help you?" she asked eloquently.

Hermione stared at this doll-like creature. "Yes, hello, I'm here to see Pansy."

"Please, do come in," she answered smoothly. "The Mistress is taking a bubble bath. I will inform her of your arrival, Miss..."

"Miss Granger," smiled Hermione, unable to suppress her amusement.

"You may address me as Minnie," said the elf before doing a little curtesy and disapparating.

Hermione lingered a while in the foyer but grew restless waiting. Her feet began to take her upstairs to the bedroom she had found solitude in that fateful night.

The manor was so different from the way she remembered it. Quieter. Empty. Not how it had been that evening.

Pansy had chosen the most beautiful centerpieces; bouquets of jasmine and white roses, flowers adorning everything, even the banisters; delicate silverware and crystal glasses; floating lanterns and a miniature of the Hogwarts train, chugging around the room, chocolate truffles in each carriage for guests to take. She knew that no other wedding, including her own, would ever hold a candle to the one the Slytherin heiress had planned. Her dress alone…

Normally she'd turn away from such extravagant displays of wealth but Pansy and Blaise had looked so happy and Hermione imagined that Draco would've been happy for them. Besides, it was a little bit difficult to look down your nose at things when you'd been invited to take part in them, to feel as though you belonged and not as an outsider.

The entire evening was utterly magical. Even Neville couldn't help but look around the estate in absolute awe. Harry had not wanted to escort her and she couldn't blame him for saying so. She had thought about asking Ron but knew that things between them were delicate, that he needed time away from her, from everything.

She blamed it on curiosity when she'd decided to go and was grateful for Neville having agreed to take her, and in the end, she was glad she did. Naturally, a lot of people had heard of Neville's bravery and his growth spurt hadn't done him any disservice. Witches kept coming up to them and gushing at him, smiling at Hermione nervously while they flirted with her date. They knew Neville and her were just friends but she found that if she stared at them long enough, they'd skitter away with a flimsy excuse, glancing back at her as they retreated.

Draco had made people afraid of her by association. It was rather fun...

At a point after the ceremony, as she watched Pansy and Blaise take their first dance, Hermione recoiled into herself needing desperately to be alone. Happiness was a weight on her. This ugly envious parasite had burrowed in her soul and she liked to hide it.

So she wandered through the house away from the music and dancing and laughter. Absently she walked around studying portraits, peeking into rooms, and shockingly enough not one portrait called her a Mudblood as they eyed her warily. A few minutes later she had found herself in front of a door with the Slytherin crest engraved into the wood. With a tentative hand, she tried the brass doorknob and it creaked open. The fireplace roared to life, flooding the room with light as she stepped in. It was large and despite its fancy furnishings it was clearly a boy's room, Blaise's she presumed— although— probably not anymore, not after tonight. A king bed, in the center, facing an open large fireplace. There was a desk with parchment and ink, a large wardrobe, expensive brooms, and tapestry hung on the wall. There was no clutter and everything was perfectly tidy, a little like Blaise always seemed to be.

The Manor certainly didn't look the same as it did the last time Hermione was here, but when she stepped into Blaise's room again for the second time, it had not changed, not one bit.

Hermione picked up the picture frame on the mantelpiece above the fireplace as she had done before. It was a photo of Blaise, Draco, and Theo; their arms around each other's shoulders, laughing and smiling, dressed in winter clothing and covered in snow.

Looking at the picture, she was thrown into a memory.

Someone cleared their throat and she turned abruptly with her wand drawn; the glass frame in pieces on the floor. Theodore Nott was leaning in the doorway, his black suit crumpled, wearing an indecipherable expression on his face as he eyed her defensive stance.

"My, my Granger," he murmured, taking a sip of champagne, "and you're not applying for the Auror program with your little friends? Pity…"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him and quipped, "I'm surprised you've detached yourself from Daphne's lips long enough to string a sentence together."

She could've sworn the corner of his lips lifted infinitesimally. "Watching me, were you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she spat, dropping her arm.

Slowly the glass pieces stitched seemingly together and the frame hovered for a moment before falling into his hand.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked.

"You learn many things as a Death Eater… Draco certainly did."

Hermione gulped. She had never dared ask what Draco had been made to do during the war. She only knew of the Death Eaters he had killed and that was enough for her to avoid asking questions.

Theo looked down at the photograph. "This was Christmas fifth year. We couldn't ski to save our lives and we..." he turned crimson at the admission, "we sort of just played in the snow like a couple of first years… Pansy took this."

"He never told me he went skiing," she said, a little surprised.

Theo gave an inelegant snort. "Probably because he wasn't good and he didn't like to admit when he was useless at something."

"Draco was very candid with me," she said holding her chin in the air. "He didn't care to impress me that way."

"Well, aren't you just special," he snarled. "And stupid."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Excuse me—?"

"I'm dying!" he suddenly cried clutching his arm. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

Hermione's eyes widened, trying to decide what awful joke he was playing.

"Oh, come on," he said suddenly smirking again. "Don't tell me you don't remember?... Third year? The hippogriff?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to place the memory. "When Buckbeak hurt Draco?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he winked.

"That—no, that wasn't—"

"Haven't you ever wondered why he hated Potter so much?"

"Their adversary had nothing to do with me."

Theo scoffed. "He's been obsessed with you since he first saw you, Granger."

She laughed in disbelief. "You expect me to believe it was love at first sight?"

"He might not have always loved you," he shrugged casually, sliding his hands into his pockets, "but he did—as you put it—'care to impress you'... a lot actually... His father never cared whether he was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, but Draco insisted on it—and his face when you told him he bought his way on…. he hated you with a passion. I don't think there's ever been an in-between."

Hermione snatched the drink from his hand and gulped it down.

"Well, it doesn't matter now does it?" she rasped feeling the familiar burning in her throat and in her eyes. It came and went like this. One moment she'd be fine and the next she wasn't.

Theo seemed to sense the shift in the air. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine."

Though they both knew it wasn't.

She looked down into the glass, staring absently at the bubbles floating to the top of the champagne.

"Draco once told me that every part of me was perfect…"

The words caught her by surprise and by the way he was looking at her, she suspected they'd surprised him too.

"I don't think anyone will ever love me the way he did; so blindly. But the truth is, I'm completely imperfect... I'm a hypocrite and a liar… and I'm not brave, I'm weak.

"A hypocrite, definitely. A liar, probably— we all are— but I don't think Hermione Granger has ever been weak."

She gave him a watery smile. "I was… a dozen times I found myself walking to Dumbledore's office and a dozen times I turned around because instead of listening to my gut I listened to him. I allowed him to make dangerous decisions that hurt people… that hurt him."

His brows furrowed. "Why?" he asked. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone Draco had the mark? I never understood..."

Hermione took the frame from his hand and handed him back the empty glass. "Love eclipsed me," she whispered, her finger tracing his mouth as Draco's lips lifted, over and over again, on loop, and grinned. "I didn't know it could do that, that it could make you feel so small, like you don't matter without them and at the same time, so large, so invincible, as if nothing can touch you. I was meant to guide him... protect him… but I failed at doing both those things."

Theo looked at his feet. "I wanted to blame you," he confessed. "It was easier than blaming myself, to think that perhaps if I had never hexed you and Luna that night, things might have turned out differently.

Hermione bit her lip. She had wanted to kill whoever had stopped her from going to find Draco the night of Dumbledore's death but when Theo had told her the truth after Draco's funeral, she had no strength for anger or hate. Her grief had consumed all of it.

"Yes," she whispered, wiping away a tear. "They might have… or we might have both been killed that very night. We'll never know…"

Hermione placed the photo back on the mantelpiece. "He looks so happy," she murmured. "I wish I could've been there that day."

Pursing his lips, he said, "Well you could... I could show you like I did before."

He dared to finally lift his head and saw her eyes were full of love and wonder as she whispered with gratitude, "I'd love to see him, Theodore."

Hermione was pulled from the memory by the thunderous sound of a door slamming shut. She startled, placing the frame back clumsily. It fell on its face and Pansy stepped forward and righted it with a roll of her eyes.

"I think I'm getting rather sick of finding uninvited guests in my home," she murmured under her breath.

"Sorry," she said awkwardly wringing her hands. "I was just looking around and… you have a beautiful home."

"You said that the last time you were here," she said with a quirk of her lips. "How did you find this room?"

"The night of your wedding," Hermione explained. "It got a little crowded. I needed a moment and I ended up here."

Pansy's lips split into a grin. "That was a wild night, wasn't it?"

Hermione's lips curled into a genuine smile. "I haven't seen Neville touch a single drink since. And that girl at the club afterward… he cringes every time I bring her up."

"It was definitely most revealing," she winked. "Too bad you never ended up bringing Potter. Who knows what the Boy-who-lived-twice would have done under the influence of alcohol."

"Or Ron," laughed Hermione absentmindedly. She cleared her throat, realizing her mistake too late and feigned a cough. Hermione could almost feel the air in the room go still at the mention of his name.

"Come," said Pansy casually. "Join me for some tea."

She followed Pansy without another word. Like a gracious host, she poured a cup for her and then for herself despite knowing the reason why Hermione was there and the unpleasant conversation they were about to have. She thought it would be best not to beat around the bush.

"I spoke to Ron. He's told me everything."

"I presumed this wasn't a social call," said Pansy with a tight smile. "Considering I've barely seen or heard from you since the wedding."

Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She hadn't realized Pansy would even care to hear or see her. "I'm sorry," she began. "Things have been difficult and what with work—"

"Yet you've had plenty of time to see my dear friend Theodore."

She made it a point not to lick her lips. Not to avoid her piercing stare.

"Pansy, I just wanted to tell you. Ron has been through a lot, not just with Fred, but he's been hurt—"

"By you," she supplied coolly.

"Yes," she admitted without hesitation. "What I did… the secrets I kept to protect Draco hurt him immensely and—"

"And those who live in glass houses should not throw stones."

Hermione frowned. "I think this is a little different."

"How?" she challenged.

"You are keeping Ron a secret to protect yourself and I kept Draco a secret to protect him."

"That's not who I was referring to."

Hermione watched as Pansy picked up her teacup and took a delicate sip with her little finger poised in the air.

"Then I don't know what you mean."

"How ironic that I share so much in common with the famous Hermione Granger, war heroine, and golden girl."

She gulped wondering just how much Theo had told her, or perhaps Ron, now that Pansy and he were intimate. "Did… did someone say something—"

"Theo doesn't need to tell me anything. His head is filled with you and I don't need Legilimency to see it."

Hermione scoffed and tried to laugh it off with an air of nonchalance. "Nott has enough women on his plate without needing to add me to his list."

The pleasant smile which had been on her face all but vanished and Hermione was instantly transported to Slughorn's Christmas party when Pansy's cool façade had waned, revealing cold hard eyes.

"I know Theo," she began. "I've known him since we learned how to walk, I know him inside and out. He and Draco were inseparable. He spent more Christmas' and summers with Narcissa and Lucius than he ever did with his own father. I think he sees you—this beautiful, sad, lonely girl—this girl who his friend loved and feels obliged to help her. He sees you fading in front of him and sees his mother; wants to save you the way he couldn't save her... the way he couldn't save Draco."

"Pansy—"

"Theo could never understand why Draco risked everything for you, but I imagine he understands now, doesn't he Hermione? See you didn't come here to pass judgment on me. You came here so I could pass judgment on you—"

"Please," she begged. "I don't… I don't want to talk about this."

"Where was he, Hermione?

She was blinking furiously, her heart beating rapidly like a cornered animal.

"What do you mean?"

Pansy leaned forward, her voice barely audible. "Where was Theo the night Corban Yaxley was killed? Was he with you?"

"What are you saying?" she demanded, squinting her eyes. "He would never—"

"So, then it was Draco. He's alive."

"No," she whispered, looking down into her teacup. "Draco is dead."

Pansy took a gentle hold of Hermione's chin and raised her face up to look at her; a motherly gesture that tugged at Hermione's heartstrings.

"How can you be sure?" she asked her.

Hermione licked her lips. "Because," her voice cracked, "Draco would never have made me suffer this way— nor you, or his mother, or Blaise… or Theo. He made me a promise to come back to me and I gave up on all hope the day I realized that nothing except mortality would've kept him from keeping it."

Pansy's face was filled with pity.

"I'm sorry Hermione… I'm sorry for keeping him from you out of petty jealousy. Perhaps if I hadn't you would've had more time together."

The apology startled Hermione. For a moment she was speechless. It had never occurred to her to consider Pansy's feelings in what had happened between them but now she felt indebted to defend what they had done.

"I should tell you," she started. "That what happened…it was only after New Years, after you'd broken up that we got together—he never—we never—"

"I know he never actually cheated on me," she smiled. "He was loyal like that, even for someone who was pretty much an arsehole the other eighty percent of the time."

Hermione let out an involuntary chuckle but Pansy sobered quickly.

"So, I ask again," she said softly. "Do you know where Theo was the night Corban Yaxley was killed?"

Her hands balled into fists. "I don't like what you're insinuating, Pansy. Besides, I don't even know when he was killed and I don't care to find out. He was a vile, awful wizard and I'm glad he's dead. We're all safer for it."

Pansy brought a perfectly manicured finger to her lip.

"Be careful, Hermione. Don't let anyone else hear you say that, otherwise when the Ministry reaches—pardon the pun—a dead end, they're going to start looking elsewhere."

She tried to read the warning behind Pansy's words. "You really think they'd suspect me? Suspect Theo?"

"He killed Lucius Malfoy and Fred Weasley. I told you how close Theo was to Draco's family… and we both know how close you are to Ron's. That gives you both a motive and if Theo is found guilty of loving you…"

Hermione gulped trying to dislodge that word from her throat. Guilty.

"And if you are found guilty of loving him, then they may think you conspired to do it together."

Her body began to tremble and the teacup was rattling against the saucer. Looking beseechingly at the woman before her, she whispered, "Please don't tell anyone."

Pansy straightened, her spine stiff and folded her hands in her lap elegantly.

"I won't… and I hope you will repay the favor by keeping my secret as well."

Reluctantly, Hermione agreed.

Parkinson had won.