Hello everyone! TSP just hit 1250 followers, and 500 reviews! Thank you so much :)

A couple notes - I've been writing this story on and off for the better part of four years. I reread it on occasion, and I did that recently, and noticed that there were some discrepancies. Nothing major- just a date, or a comment, or something. That's what happens when you pick something up once every year. I'm going to be going back and fixing those discrepancies. No worries, nothing plotwise will change. It's just because I'm a perfectionist, and want all my Ts crossed and I's dotted. Nothing will change, just a word here or there.

Second - expect some emotional whiplash with Seamus this chapter. Trust me, I'm setting something up. And my Seamus, though a total prat, is not a villain. He is a broken human, which is what I'm trying to get across in this chapter.

Kisses! xoxo

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


When she woke up the next day, Hermione blinked in the light streaming through her window. Coming into consciousness, she was allowed one peaceful breath before the events of the day prior crashed over her like waves on the rocks.

Had it only been yesterday that she had woken up at Draco's side, the image of their first night together seared into her memory, mind, and soul?

And now here she was, alone.

She sat up, wrapping the top sheet around her shivering body and leaning against the wall. Two breaths in, two breaths out.

She glanced down at her wrist, the golden willow tree shining up at her. Her morning sun. Pursing her lips, she examined the mark closely, watching magic shimmer just beneath her skin.

Of everything that had changed yesterday, the implications of her willow mark loomed large. An image flashed across her mind of her mother, her beautiful dead mother, in her childhood home, smiling down at her with large green eyes.

The eyes of the Le Fay women.

She was the last survivor, she realized, staring blankly at the opposite wall. She was the last remaining descendent of Morganna Le Fay, the original witch. She, Hermione Granger, perhaps the most well-known muggleborn of her generation was…well … not.

Everything she had known had disappeared beneath her feet. But yet, she did not feel unstable on disintegrating foundations.

She felt whole.

And of everything that yesterday had brought and taken away, she was left with the certainty of who she was. Who her darling mother had been.

And that was worth it all, wasn't it?

Her reverie was interrupted suddenly by a knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, pushing her hair out of her face, she spoke.

"Come in."

Her voice didn't crack.

The door opened slightly, and Blaise popped his head in.

"Hey Nott," he said, a twinkle behind his eyes. "You're up late."

Hermione scoffed. "I may not be a muggleborn anymore, but I think calling me a Nott is a bit far."

Blaise shrugged, walking into the room and leaning against the door. "Theo was one of my best mates. Makes me feel like we have a bit more of a rapport."

"Theo?" Hermione asked. "Theodore Nott?"

"Do you know anyone else named Theo?"

"I guess he would be my cousin," Hermione said, her mind wandering to a tall Slytherin from her year. Had she ever spoken to him? Really, really spoken to him? Maybe once or twice in potions, asking him to pass her an ingredient. He had teased her mercilessly with Draco and the others, but had they ever interacted? Just them?

She couldn't remember a single instance.

She had spent six years taking classes with her cousin, with her kin, and she hadn't known.

"What's Theo like?" Hermione asked suddenly, realizing that she had no bloody idea. Her own cousin who she had known since she was eleven, and she had no clue who he was.

"Theo?" Blaise raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she pursed her lips. "Was he good at potions? Did he like to read? Was he an utter prat when he was fifteen? What's he like?"

Blaise stared at her for a moment.

"Yes, to all of the above," he said. "He was always tied with Draco for the best potions slot. He read for an hour before going to bed, and we all learned to bloody well fuck off when he was. And yes, Merlin, the shit Theo pulled at fifteen, especially with Daph, put Draco and I to shame."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her knees. "Do you think I would like him?"

"Theo?" Blaise said, a small smile appearing on his face. "Well, I bloody love the guy, and so does Draco. Since you seem to be in love with both of us, I would bet the likelihood to be high."

Her eyes snapped up. "I'm not in love with Draco."

"You know, the fact that you denied being in love with Draco and not me shows a lot. Maybe you're shagging the wrong Slytherin."

"Blaise," she snapped, as he chortled. "You know what I meant."

"I did," he said. "I just think it's utter bullshit."

The word bounced around her head for a moment. Love. Draco Malfoy and love. Impossible. Ridiculous.

You did wake up in his bed yesterday, the voice at the back of her mind whispered.

Shaking it off, and with no idea how to proceed, she decided on a swerve.

"What happened to Theo?" she asked, wracking her mind. "I can't remember."

"Theo's fine," Blaise shrugged. "I saw him a few months ago, before I was generously kidnapped by your lot."

"And by kidnapped you mean rescued?"

He shrugged. "Theo was just like me: neutral. His dad is as dark as they come, but Theo's a good bloke. He's living just outside of Glasgow."

"Scotland?" she asked. "Not England?"

"He always like the North better," Blaise explained. "And besides, I think he wanted to be pretty far away from the action. He's not a fighter."

"And his dad just accepted that?" Hermione asked, disbelieving.

"No," Blaise responded. "But his mom stepped in. Convinced Nott Sr that Theo's still a child. A twenty-year-old child, who might not want to be at the centre of a blood war."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Of all the stories she had heard about Nott Sr over the years, she found it surprising that he hadn't held Theo at wand point until he got the mark.

Blaise sensed her trepidation. "You'd be surprised, Hermione," he said. "Pureblooded husbands may be the ones you want to avoid on the battlefield, but the wives pull the strings."

Hermione chuckled. "So, Theo's fine?"

"He's patiently awaiting the end of this goddamn war," he replied. "He wants to marry Daph."

"Daphne Greengrass?" Hermione asked, surprised. "I haven't heard about her in years, either."

"She's living in Glasgow with Theo," Blaise answered simply. "They moved in together after school."

"And they aren't married?" Hermione asked, somewhat shocked. If they had moved in together after school, this would be their…third year living together?

"Theo doesn't want to propose until the war is over," Blaise explained. "Doesn't want Daph to think it's because he's scared or worried that they won't get another shot. He doesn't want her to think that he loves her because of the war."

Blaise's words struck a chord within her, as she was reminded of a different conversation about a different pair of lovers.

Do you love him? Fred had asked her, in what felt like a different era, when she was still with Seamus.

With. A difficult preposition.

I don't think I could ever fall in love during a war. She had replied.

"That's where I think you're wrong, Hermione," Fred said. "It's surprisingly easy to fall in love during war. Knowing you could die at any moment causes people to take the risks they would usually avoid. It also makes you realize how easy it is to lose people, and by default, who you couldn't stand losing. If you aren't in love with Seamus, it's not because you couldn't fall in love during a battle. It's because you aren't in love with him."

Hermione pursed her lips, remembering the moment from mid-September. Years ago. Decades ago. When she spent every night in Seamus's bed, his arms caressing her like the lover she was pretending to be for him.

Before. Everything felt before now.

Shaking her head out of the memory, she turned back to Blaise. "I think I would like Theo, if I ever got to meet him again."

Blaise smiled. "Honestly, of all us snakes, I would put money on you getting along with Theo the best. But you've shocked us before. You did shag Draco."

He had to actively dodge the pillow she threw at him.

"Merlin, woman," he replied. "I'm just sayin'."

She scowled.

He rolled his eyes.

"If you're done denying the inevitable, do you want to come grab lunch? Everyone's up and waiting on you."

"Is it that late?" she asked, running a hand through her hair. "I must've slept forever."

"Can't blame you," Blaise responded. "Was it just me, or did it feel like we were in yesterday for bloody years?"

"You're one to talk, Blaise. I was a different person yesterday morning."

He scoffed. "But seriously. If your life was a book, yesterday would have been at least seven chapters."

She ignored his comment. Picking herself out of bed, she took a deep breath. "I'll get changed and meet you downstairs in a moment."

"Just prepare yourself," Blaise warned. "The calvary is assembling."

"What calvary?"

He tilted his head at her. "Like you don't bloody know."


"The fact that you lot are even bloody considering this is bollocks, you know that right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Seamus' comment. "We already made a decision on this, Seamus."

He spluttered. She took his moment of hesitation to appraise him. His eyes were black, the pupils so dilated she couldn't see any of the colour that had been there once. The shadows under his eyes were prominent, casting his face into darkness. Had he slept a wink?

No. She knew he hadn't.

The rest of the Order around the table was watching their interaction with pity. After Seamus's explosion the night prior, the dynamics between her and him were clear to anyone who was watching.

This was not about Draco. This was about the two of them, and what they had been, what they weren't anymore, and what they could've been in another life.

"We owe it to him to bring him back," Hermione said. "He's under asylum here."

"I don't owe the bastard anything."

Hermione stared at Seamus for a moment. The anger in his voice was striking.

"Seamus," Lupin interrupted, also looking like he hadn't slept a wink. "I'm with Hermione on this one. We owe Draco Malfoy the protection we offered him. And as pointed out last night, he's put his neck out for us more than once, including for our Morganna."

Lupin had told the rest of the group the significance of her mark that morning while she had been asleep. The gratefulness she felt couldn't be overstated. Another shocked gasp, another 'but how?' another speech, another revelation. She couldn't do it. They all knew. That's what mattered.

And she hadn't needed to bare her soul again.

"I understand your frustration, Seamus," Tonks interjected. "I get it. But Hermione was right. We owe the bloke after yesterday."

"I'd be dead without him," Neville piped up.

"And I'm glad you're not, mate, but this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. How in the name of bloody fuck would we even find him?"

"I've been thinking about that," Hermione said, memories of a Hogwarts library book flicking through her mind until she found what she needed. "A tracking spell."

Seamus scoffed. "You know that's flimsy magic. You need something so precise of his for it to work. A jumper or his hairbrush doesn't work."

"I don't need to track him," Hermione said. "I need to track me."

Seamus stared at her, not spark of recognition in his eyes. She heard a gasp behind her.

"Brilliant," Blaise breathed. "Hermione, that's bloody brilliant."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Care to share the knowledge, or are us plebs not allowed wisdom?"

Hermione couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. The twin shot her a quick wink.

"It's the magic transfer," Blaise said, nodding as he spoke. "She doesn't need to track Draco. She needs to track her own blood. It runs in his veins. She is the last remaining Le Fay. The only two people in the entire world who have that level of power in their blood is her and…"

"And Draco Malfoy," Lupin breathed, clenching his hands together. "It's full proof. Blood is one of the only things you can count on in tracking spells."

Hermione nodded. "I just need a drop."

"So now you're splitting your skin for him too?" Seamus interjected; his voice laced with malice.

And that was the moment she finally lost it.

"Merlin's sake, Seamus, could you just fuck off?" she snapped. "I'm sorry you don't like Draco, but I'm not going to let Voldemort kill him after everything!"

"After you fucked him, you mean?"

She couldn't hear the gasps and angered shouts from her fellow Order Members over the blood rushing between her ears. She turned fully to face her ex-lover.

He was shaking.

So was she.

"Get over your jealousy," Hermione hissed. "You do not have any claim to my body or what I do with it. And don't pretend that this has to do with anything else other than me. If Neville can get over his schoolyard prejudice, so can you."

"Hey!" Neville said, frowning.

She ignored him

"We are not together, Seamus," she said, her voice shaking now. "Get over it. This is not about who I'm with. This is about what is right. And the fact that you can't see that over your hurt feelings has me questioning why I was ever with you at all."

The colour drained out of Seamus's face, leaving him ashen before her. His eyes were wild. His body was trembling. But she stood her ground. She would not let stupid, boneheaded jealousy cost Draco his life.

Without another word, Seamus turned on his heel and stormed from the room.

Hermione stared at the spot where he had been standing a moment before, and let her emotions take over her mind for a second.

One second for the pain, sadness, and anger she felt.

The rest for Draco.

She turned back to the group, where everyone was watching her with wide eyes, waiting for her reaction.

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blaise. He gave her a soft smile.

She would deal with Seamus later. For now, she had only one man on her mind.

Reaching into her pocket, she took out her wand. Pointing it at her hand, she sliced a small line in her skin. Wincing slightly, she watched as her blood started to stream down. Lifting her hand into the air, she squeezed it into a fist, until a trickle of red ran down, and drops began to follow into the air.

She lifted her wand to create a cloud where her blood was hitting the air. Muttering the incantation under breath, Draco's face in her mind, the space in front of her began to shimmer.

Focus, focus, focus.

The shimmering began to solidify, darken, as the air shifted from empty space to an image. She kept breathing, and as a final drop of blood slowly fell from the cut along her palm to the picture forming in front of her, it became opaque.

The image was one that seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. A dark mansion, gothic architecture, standing in the middle of a beautifully kept lawn. Ostentatious, posh, ominous, all in one.

Blaise let out a deep breath.

"Malfoy Manor. That's fitting."

Hermione stared at the image in front of her. She had never had the misfortune to visit Draco's childhood home, and here it stood in front of her, all because of blood.

Her magical blood.

She sighed at the irony. After all these years, and all this pain, what would allow her to save Draco was not her muggleborn blood.

But her magic that ran through his veins.


Later that day, she was sitting on a bed with Blaise, both staring blankly into the unknown.

The decision had been made. In the morning, the Order would descend upon Malfoy Manor, with only on goal in mind: the safe retrieval of Draco Malfoy.

Oh, if only her sixteen-year-old self could see her now. She chuckled at the concept.

"You okay there, Princess?" Blaise asked.

"Just thinking about the deep irony of me bursting into Malfoy Manor as a pureblood to rescue Draco from his parents."

"It really is up there, eh," Blaise muttered. "What a ridiculous couple of days."

"You can say that again," Hermione said. "A black comedy of a week. I don't know even know how we got through it."

"Or how we'll even get to tomorrow."

"We will get to tomorrow," Hermione said. "The question is whether Draco will."

Blaise frowned. "I would put the odds in our favour, Princess. They wouldn't kill him off without milking him dry of everything he learned while he was under asylum here."

Hermione shook her head. "He wouldn't give us up."

Blaise pursed his lips. "I know that you and Draco have gotten…ahem …closer over the last month or so, but you can't know that."

"I know him."

"Blimey Hermione, you don't really. I get that you are Draco have your connection and everything, but you don't really know him. I grew up with the guy for fuck's sake, and I can't tell you if he'd give us up."

"I don't know Draco like you do, Blaise," Hermione admitted, twirling her thumbs absentmindedly. "I wasn't there for your summer vacations, or your late nights' in the Slytherin common room. I'm not contesting that I wasn't there for those moments. I can't tell you what Draco's favourite book is, or how he likes his eggs."

"Crime and Punishment and scrambled," Blaise interjected.

Hermione continued. "But I do know Draco. I know it might seem stupid, but having Draco take on the burden of my magic, the look of concentration and willingness in his expression... I know him. I know that his eyes are sometimes silver and sometimes grey, depending on the light. I know the way he feels, the way his blood pounds, I know how he moans when…"

"Gross, gross, gross."

She rolled her eyes. "I know Draco on a level that I can't even describe. I know him as a part of myself now, because he is. I don't know how it happened, or why, but it did."

Blaise appraised her for a moment.

"And you don't think he'll turn us over."

She shook his head.

"I don't think he would betray me…us like that."

"You do have that man wrapped around your finger," Blaise said. "I don't know if it's your magic transfer or the sex, but I think you're right on that point. I don't think he could betray you without betraying himself."

They sat in silence for a moment, staring out the window on the opposite wall.

It was pitch black, with a smattering of stars. Was it midnight? She didn't know.

It didn't feel like midnight, the dark of night, the endless hour. Her life had felt like midnight for years, overcome with darkness at all moments.

But now, there was daybreak.

Beautiful, blonde daybreak.

In what had felt like eternal night, Draco had awoken her, ripped her out of stasis, her atoms shaking more with each moment.

But had it been just him? Their connection was undeniable. But her sunrise had begun earlier. Not as a result of a man, of a lover, but as a result of everything that had changed since her twentieth birthday.

"I think it has something to do with my heritage," Hermione said quietly, voicing the extremity of her emotions.

"What does?"

"All of it," she admitted. "Everything changed when I got the mark. I know that you've only really known me since I got it, but the morning of my birthday, when I woke up screaming, everything changed."

"What do you mean?"

She pursed her lips, contemplating the shift. "It feels like we'd been in a sort of immobility since the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. We'd go on missions, sometimes we'd win, sometimes we'd lose a lot more than just the fight. Harry, Ron and I were always around, pushing forward but never getting more than an inch. I was with Seamus, and even that felt…steady? Unchanging?"

"Exactly how a guy you've bedded wants to hear himself described."

Hermione whipped around at the voice that spoke. Standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame, was Seamus. She started to panic at what he had heard, and his reaction after this morning, but he didn't look angry anymore.

He just looked tired.

"Hermione, Blaise," he said giving them both a nod before his eyes returned to meet hers. "Blaise, do you mind if I talk to Hermione alone for a moment?"

Blaise looked between them, before looking to her for confirmation. After a quick sigh, she gave a small nod.

He bounded off the bed and left the room at lighting speed. As he passed, Seamus closed the door behind him, before turning back to her.

The silence between them was tense.

"I'm angry with you," she said, after a few moments.

He sighed. "I know."

"What do you want, Seamus?" she asked quietly, looking down at her hands. The scar from the cut she had made earlier was shining at her.

"I want to talk."

She raised her eyebrow. "I'm not sure we have much to talk about."

"We do," he said, sitting at the other end of the bed. "I want to talk about earlier."

She huffed. "Listen, I don't want to listen to you go off about Draco for even one more second…"

"I wanted to apologize."

The words died in her throat. "You…you what?"

He sighed and ran his hand through his brown hair. She had done that once, in what felt like a past life.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier today, and yesterday for that matter. I was being a right prat, and you didn't deserve it. It's not your fault the way things turned out."

She was flabbergasted. The man sitting in front of her, swallowing his pride and owning his actions, was nothing like the insufferable, jealous Seamus who had been dogging her for the past few months. He was acting the way that he used to…back before…

Everything felt before now.

"What brought about this change of heart?" she asked, crossing her arms. She felt more protected with the barrier across her chest.

"I took a nap." He smiled without humour.

"Sorry… a nap told you how much of a prat you were being?"

"No," he muttered, before his eyes flicked up to meet hers. "Dean did."

A small gasp escaped her lips. She blinked rapidly, trying to find the words, but she couldn't.

It had been a while since she hadn't known what to say.

"He visits me sometimes," Seamus said, leaning back against the wall. "In my dreams. He comes to see me. And every time is the same. We talk. We laugh. And then he leaves anyway, as I beg him not to. And then I wake up alone."

He looked at her again. Hermione felt a tug at her heartstrings as she saw tears in his eyes.

"But I didn't used to wake up alone," he said quietly. "I would wake up with you. And it made me feel…like he wasn't gone. Like I still had someone."

She felt tears pricking at her eyes. "Seamus…"

"No, Hermione," he sighed. "You don't need to make me feel better. You did that for long enough."

He reached over and held out his hand. Unsure of whether it was the right decision, she uncrossed her arms and slipped her hand in his.

"I took a nap and Dean visited me. And I expected it to be the same. But he was angry with me. He was angry with me for how I was treating you."

"He told me everything you had already said. That I didn't own you, or your body. That you had the right to end things. That I was relying on you to hold me up after his death. That I was expecting you to replace him."

Hermione had no words. Her mouth was open in a little gasp, staring at this man before her.

He was a man she recognized, for the first time in a long time.

"And I know you've said this to me before, Hermione," he whispered. "But when Dean told me, it hit home. It mattered more. I'm sorry to admit that, but when he said it, I couldn't ignore it. And then I woke up, and I was still alone."

A tear fell down her cheek. "Oh, Seamus."

"I miss you, Hermione," he admitted quietly. "I miss the way things used to be between us. I miss those quiet moments, with me stroking your hair, falling asleep in each other arms. I miss what we were."

He took a deep breath. "But I'm sorry for treating you the way I have been. I'm sorry for treating you like you weren't a person, but like you were…an angel…a crutch. That wasn't fair. And I'm sorry for flipping out over Malfoy. He just grinds my gears, you know?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "He grinds mine too."

Seamus cracked a small smile, right at the corner of his lips. "I haven't been fair to you. I haven't been kind. You haven't deserved any of this. And I'm sorry."

Hermione stared at Seamus for a moment, trying to find a response. The anger she had felt for him earlier in the day had dissipated, replaced by something softer. Empathy? Sadness? Longing? She wasn't sure.

But she wasn't mad.

"It's okay, Seamus," she whispered.

"No, it's not," he shrugged. "Just because I have a reason for the way I've been acting does not mean it's an excuse."

She agreed with him there.

"I understand," she said. "And I'm not angry with you. I mean, I was earlier, but I understand, you know? I know what Dean meant to you."

"It's not only about what Dean meant to me," he responded, giving her hand a light squeeze. "It's what you do."

"Wh…what?"

Seamus sighed. "I know that we never defined what we were. I know that there was no label, or anything. But I wanted there to be. I wanted us to be something outside of this war, outside of this hell."

Her heart was pounding.

So was his.

They stared at each other for a moment, until finally Seamus blinked.

"I think I loved you," he whispered. "I really do think that."

"You think?" she whispered. She felt like someone else was speaking.

He sighed. "I don't know anymore. Everything changed so quickly. I lost Dean, you slipped through my fingers, Malfoy showed up. But for a brief moment, you were my everything. I think I loved you then."

Hermione had no words. She had no words for this man sitting in front of her, who she had woken up with in the morning, held into the night.

This man who had loved her.

Fred's words bounced around her head once again.

It's because you aren't in love with him.

"Seamus," she started, the sadness evident in her voice.

He shook his head. "You don't need to tell me anything, I already know you don't. We wouldn't be in this position otherwise, would we?"

The smile he gave her broke her heart once over.

"Do you think you could've, though?" he asked her, the question dancing in his eyes. "In another life, in another universe, where we didn't have this war hanging over our heads? If it was just us? Could you have loved me there?"

"I..I don't know."

He smiled sadly. "I didn't expect you to."

How can a man you never loved break your heart? She didn't know, but if there was a way, Seamus's acceptance of her feelings did, shattering what was left of the hole in her chest into a million pieces.

"Don't pity me, Hermione," Seamus said. "I had you, if only for a brief time, if only because of the life we have been forced to suffer through. That's enough for me, for now. But if you ever change your mind, know that I'll be here. If Draco Malfoy turns out to be an evil bastard responsible for everything wrong in our lives…"

"Seamus."

He chuckled without emotion. "Just know that I'll be here."

She couldn't explain why she did what she did next. Throwing caution to the wind, she leaned over and kissed this tragic, broken man before her. As their lips touched softly, the goodbye she felt in her heart caused tears to stream down her face. He grasped at her, desperately, like she was water in the desert. He kissed her with abandon, knowing it was not going to happen again. She kissed him back, wishing, chaotically, that perhaps, just maybe, she could give him what he wanted.

But she couldn't. She knew she couldn't.

She knew that she did not want to.

He pulled back, looking at her forlornly.

"Maybe in another life."

"Maybe," she choked back, knowing that it wasn't true. Knowing that in another life, in another universe, that there was someone else, someone else that her soul searched for.

But she couldn't give him what he wanted. She could only give him that one word.

Seamus let his arms drop before standing up and walking towards the door.

"I'll fight to save him tomorrow, Hermione," he whispered, not turning back to look at her. "I'll stand back. I'll stop acting like a monumental prat. Just know who I'm doing for."

He looked over his shoulder at her briefly.

"You and Dean were the only people I loved in this goddamn hellscape. I'm not losing you like I lost him, even if it means I can't have you."

And with that, he left the room.

The emotions that overtook her were incomprehensible. She was drowning in them, thrown out into the sea. She fell on her pillow, allowing the sobs to shake her body and mind until eventually, thankfully, sleep overtook her.


When she awoke, the sun shone in through the window, offering her clarity that had been lost in the chaos of the night prior, as faces flashed through her mind before finally landing on one.

She blinked. It was morning, the midnight was over. And she would find her sun and bring him home.


Review :)