Narcissa, Harry, and Bill appeared in the doorway. "Draco," Narcissa frowned. "I thought you were upstairs."

"Hello," Harry said curtly. "We're here to—"

"Throw me in prison?" Malfoy interrupted.

Narcissa rubbed at her temple, her brow furrowed. "Draco, take everyone upstairs. Apparently the study needs to be opened. I need to lie down."

Hermione tried to steady her breathing from under the cloak. Malfoy looked to her direction. "Fine. You should all follow me."

Malfoy led the way out of the room and up the staircase, glancing behind him. Carefully, Hermione tailed Harry. She poked him in the shoulder to let him know she was still there, and Harry grunted, hastily bringing his hand to his mouth and pretending to cough.

Malfoy stopped abruptly in front of a heavy wooden door. He pointed his wand at the door and put his left hand on the handle. It glowed gold.

The door swung open, the lights alight at once. The study was magnificent, with books that lined the walls and a ladder that floated above the floor to reach the tallest shelves. A dusty fireplace remained unlit across the large mahogany desk, black leather chairs were splayed artfully about the room. It reminded her of the Hogwarts library's most coveted studying nooks.

Bill strode to the far corner of the room and waved his wand, muttering a string of incantations under his breath. Hermione padded over to a different corner. Some of the bookshelves had glass casing over them, and titles caught her eye... The Ancient Historye of Curse-Makinge; Boils: An Biography; The Life and Times of Caddeus Cabbage; a rather ashen looking copy of something called Tojours Pur; 1,392 Uses for House Elf Remains...she shuddered.

As she looked away, something dark and slender with a divot almost like a bowl at its top glinted in the light. Tiny cylinders sat in a rack next to it. The stuff inside had a silvery glow, and she realized she was looking at a Pensieve.

She had a crazed thought to somehow steal the Pensieve away. The only other Pensieve she knew about was at Hogwarts, and she didn't imagine McGonagall would let her use it indefinitely, no matter how nicely she asked.

Bill walked past it without a second glance. "The spells I typically use aren't bringing anything up," he looked suspiciously at Malfoy. "But this is the kind of room we try to check carefully."

"Yes, how menacing. All these bookshelves," Malfoy said dryly.

"A locked room," Bill pressed on, ignoring him.

"Maybe we should come back later," Harry said loudly.

"Why?" Bill asked.

"I forgot how huge this place is," Harry said airily. "We probably have a better chance of finding something with the whole team. Let's make our way back," he said firmly. Bill stared at him, and it seemed as though he was going to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he pocketed his wand. "Alright," he agreed. "And we did already find something," he patted the bag he was clutching that held the little box he had found earlier.

Harry began to make his way out of the room, but Malfoy cleared his throat. "You can use the fireplace here. It's perfectly suitable."

Bill shrugged. "Fine. I'm going to head back to the office, Harry. I'll get this report filed."

He turned to Malfoy, locking eyes with him for the first time. "Give your mother my regards," he said coldly before dropping a fistful of Floo Powder into the fireplace. "To the Ministry of Magic," he said. The flames roared upward as he stepped into them. Then he was gone.

"Well," Harry said loudly. "Don't let me keep you, Malfoy."

Hermione watched carefully. Would Malfoy admit to Harry that he knew that she was here? Or would he let them go without a word?

Malfoy turned his head slightly, looking straight at where Hermione was standing. "Oh, no, I don't think so," he said, an unctuous smile forming on his lips. "I'll see you out, Potter."

"A-alright, sure. Great," Harry said nervously, clearly looking for Hermione. She reached into her pocket, making sure that the Floo Powder she had taken was still there. She would just light the fireplace and go after Harry and Malfoy had left.

Harry made a big show of taking out the Floo Powder and walking to the fireplace. "Here I go," he said loudly. "To the Ministry of Magic," he said clearly, and with one final glance around the room, he disappeared.

The air was still. "Well, Granger, are you still there?" Malfoy muttered. "You can show yourself out, I don't care. I just felt like tormenting Potter," he said, making his way to leave.

"Wait!" Hermione whispered. To be safe, she kept the cloak on. "You said you owed me, remember? At the Ministry."

Something unrecognizable flashed across his face. She felt nearly as small as she did when she was a first year, before she had made any friends. Malfoy glowered in the direction of her voice. "And?"

She was thinking very quickly. The Pensieve she had used briefly at the Ministry was not one she could return to whenever she pleased.

She ran over the facts again. Ron was in a coma. Harry was probably breaking at least a dozen rules. She was at Malfoy Manor illegally. Nobody knew why Hogwarts had been attacked, or by whom. And to top it all off, there was something wrong—very wrong—with her memories.

So you're going to use the one that's at Malfoy motherfucking Manor instead? Very smart. You really are the most brilliant witch of your age.

"Is that a Pensieve?" she said quickly, before she lost her nerve. She pulled the Invisibility Cloak off at last.

His brow furrowed as she appeared. "Yes. Why?"

"Can I use it?"

"What?" Malfoy looked as though he was going to laugh. "You can't borrow it, if that's what you're asking."

"Well, why not?"

"It's got some spell on it. It's been in my family forever. They're very valuable, you know. Why on earth do you need my Pensieve?"

"Because I can't testify that you were taking your exams with me without it," she said very quickly. "There's something wrong—I can't produce memories after a certain point in my life," she hated admitting this to him. "But I need a Pensieve if I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

Malfoy's look of amusement slid off his face. "How do I know you're not just going to spy on me?"

"Because I'll give you my word," she said. This was desperate, she knew, but figuring out what was wrong with her memories would be a step in the right direction for figuring out what had happened at Hogwarts the day Ron was attacked.

"And you owe me," she said finally, striding swiftly over to the fireplace before he could stop her. She tossed the powder into the flames and vanished.


After returning to Grimmauld Place and facing a frantic Harry, she had locked herself in her bedroom. She thought of the things that had happened to her in the past few years. Were they all corrupted, even the most mundane recollections? She recalled cutting Harry's hair in the tent one gray January morning, his dark hair wreathing their feet. And what of the terrifying memories? She remembered her body pitching into the water, the wing of a bird whipping past. A chill went down her spine, unrelated to the freezing temperatures of the lake they had found themselves in that day. It all felt like so, so long ago.

The next day, she entered Ron's hospital room with all of this on her mind. Her eyes skimmed through the white of the space, only small differences from the last time she had been there a few days ago. There was a fresh vase of flowers near the window. She reached out to a rose, which were unusually colored but beautiful—first a silvery white, then changing to an opalescent lavender the moment her fingers touched a velvety petal.

Several cards were propped up on his bedside table. There was a wand next to them, worn and looking as if it were waiting. Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized it was Ron's wand. Carefully, as if she were handling something beautiful and fragile, she picked it up and held it. A flutter of warmth surged through her, fainter and more unfamiliar than what she was used to with her own wand, but still present.

She looked back at Ron's face. Calm, undisturbed, mind faraway from anything here. When would he next wield magic? She wondered. She made to put the wand back, but something kept her from letting go of it.

She had often wondered if she should get an extra wand to put on her person ever since the war ended. Of course, she had far less use for it now in peacetime, but it was something that crossed her mind often. When she was walking in London, when she was alone in Grimmauld Place, and even when she was walking down the halls of Hogwarts, the thought would often occur to her that if she were to be ambushed, if she were to find herself suddenly without her wand, what would happen to her? She remembered all too well how terrified she had felt when Harry had broken his wand after they had fled Malfoy Manor.

In any case, she justified to herself quickly, Ron's wand shouldn't be left out in the open like this where anyone could come and take it. Before she could change her mind, she slipped it into her bag.

And, in her heart, she knew that taking it was like making a strange contract between herself and any higher power that was bothering to listen to her. The next time they spoke, she would return the wand to Ron, face-to-face. It was a promise.

She turned her attention to the cards. She picked up one with an illustration of a dog with a thermometer in its mouth. Upon opening it, she felt her eyes water with tears as she looked upon the photograph that slipped out. It was his entire Auror cohort, she realized. There was Ron and Harry in the corner, their arms around each other, grinning ear-to-ear. A whole array of faces, young and happy, men with bright eyes, women with haircuts that reminded her of Tonks, and one familiar face—she realized it was Bardsley, the Auror who had died when she had been taking her exams with Malfoy. His mustache was resplendent. Shakily, she put the photograph down.

The card was filled with little messages from each of the Aurors-in-training. The largest message was the shortest.

Ginger—

We're saving you a pint at the Swish and Flick. Hurry back. We miss you.

—Auror Class of '99

She placed the card back on the table and pulled up the chair she usually sat in. A crumpled copy of the evening Prophet was on the seat. She was about to toss it in the bin when she saw a word poking out of the front page: Malfoy.

DARK OBJECTS CONFISCATED IN SEARCH OF MALFOY MANOR

The Ministry is investigating Dark artifacts seized in Malfoy Manor, sources have told the Prophet. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, along with their son, Draco, are undergoing concurrent trials for their actions during the Second Wizarding War.

An Auror spokesperson said the office does not comment on ongoing investigations. But sources inside the Ministry who asked to remain anonymous say this raises questions on how closely the Malfoy family has been monitored. Preceding Lucius Malfoy's attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on May 2, the three members of the Malfoy family had been under house arrest for almost a year while the Ministry of Magic made preparations to try dozens of the Dark Lord's followers.

The Department of Justice has been under fire for how they have been handling the cases. Wizarding rights organizations point out that the proceedings for the Malfoys have taken far longer than is typical, and international commentators demand more transparency from the Ministry of Magic. "Yes, they've gotten rid of Dementors, but the fact of the matter is that we've been effectively shut out for the past few years, and we'd like to make sure things are on track after these Death Eater terrorists staged a coup that lasted almost a full year and nearly upended the Statute of Secrecy," said one American official who requested to remain anonymous for fear of reprisal.

The Malfoys, who are represented by Valentine, Wandwell & Zhou, released a statement on the search. "The Malfoy family categorically denies allegations of hiding 'Dark objects' from the Ministry. These items were passed down from generation to generation and are simply dormant family heirlooms that have caused no harm for many centuries. Furthermore, this search came without a warrant signed by a judge, as is necessary under the full process of the law. We will be seeking further legal action."

Lucius Malfoy, former school governor of Hogwarts, was arrested after Death Eaters broke into the Ministry of Magic four years ago. A loyal follower to the Dark Lord, Malfoy fled Azkaban…

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. A pale hand holding a bunch of sunflowers obscured the visitor's face. But she could see from the dangling braid of blonde hair that it was someone she knew well.

"Luna!"

"Hello, Hermione," Luna said, carefully putting the sunflowers next to Ron's bedside. They hugged. She sat down and her earrings tinkled. They were shaped like tiny dangling bananas. "How are you?"

Hermione laughed nervously. "You know," she gestured to the room.

"Yes," she said quietly, her face shifting immediately. "I wish I'd come by sooner. I wanted to say hello before I left."

"That's right—you're leaving soon!" Hermione exclaimed, eager to talk about something else.

Luna grinned. "Yes, I leave for Spain the first of July."

"When's Iceland?"

"Yes, after that I'll visit Neville. Then maybe to Malaysia." Luna had been planning to go to several countries after graduating to look for magical creatures and observe them. Hermione felt a jab of yearning and jealousy. The last place she had gone to was France with her family years ago. She didn't quite count the trip to Australia she had taken to fetch her parents with Ron last summer.

Luna scrutinized Ron. "You know, I'm sure he knows you're visiting him. And I've been getting better at sensing Wrackspurts. They're not in here, I can tell."

"How were your N.E.W.T.s?" Hermione asked loudly, because she didn't want to think about whether or not Ron could sense her presence or not. It depressed her too much.

"I was never very good at standardized exams."

"You're one of the smartest people I know!" Hermione said, suppressing a smile because it wasn't something she would have said three years ago. She hadn't understood Luna then. "And you're a Ravenclaw, so that can't hurt, right?" she added jokingly. Luna suddenly turned very serious.

"Oh, I don't think that matters. And anyway, the real Sorting Hat was lost sometime in the Middle Ages. Our houses were random."

"So who sorted us?"

Luna shrugged. "It's just a charmed hat."

Hermione laughed. She wished Ron could hear what they were saying—she could already hear his response in her mind. What, so the Hat decided my entire family should go to Gryffindor for a laugh? She sniffled. She didn't care if she cried in front of Luna, but she was so exhausted from all the crying. Comfortingly, Luna put a hand onto hers.

Neither of them said anything for a long time, and when Luna finally did speak, her voice was quiet and thoughtful. "Sometimes it all feels like it happened to another person."

Hermione already knew Luna was remembering Malfoy Manor too. She could still remember the wan look on Xenophilius's face when they had gone to the Lovegood's.

"I can hardly think of it without getting upset. I wish things would go back to how they were," Hermione said, not quite sure what she was referring to. Did she mean the events of the past month? Of last year? The years before that?

"I used to feel that way too," Luna said. "You'll change."

"But I won't feel better?" she said wryly.

"Not necessarily," she said slowly, "But I'm not the same as I was before either. That's impossible," Luna shrugged.

"I don't think I've ever heard you say that."

Luna gave a small smile. She returned her gaze to Ron. It seemed the Ravenclaw was content to sit in silence with her two friends in a quiet room at St. Mungo's.