Hermione,

I talked to the healing Aurors at St. Mungo's, currently they're only allowing family to visit with Malfoy for the next 2-3 weeks. I'm not sure what came up, but I apologize for the inconvenience. Hope you're well. Owl if you need anything else.

Harry

Hedwig had come the following Monday. Though she expected this answer, it still disappointed her all the same.

Hermione sat at her work desk with the end of her pen at her lip, reading over more of Malfoy's notes.

Why was she so affected by these letters? Discovering someone had taken a liking to her in her younger years when she barely saw herself in that kind of light, it was flattering. And not just someone, it was Malfoy, a boy who had made her question her magical abilities and belongingness within the Wizarding World.

She didn't even know what she would have said if she could visit Malfoy, anyway. Asking him if he'd written them when his name was signed at the bottom of the last one, if he still felt the same as he did before. It would've changed nothing. She was with Ron. It would be foolish to ask if nothing could come out of it. Even if she wished something would, there's still a chance he or his mother could have notions of keeping the bloodline pure.

She's with Ron.

As of late, she doesn't understand why she has to keep reminding herself that she is. Spending time with a significant other, growing alongside them through adulthood, learning more about each other as both change and grow; Hermione felt that that played a vital role in a healthy relationship.

Perhaps Ron and herself grew out of each other. Or they just needed to spend more time with each other. This is what scared Hermione, she didn't know which one they required.

Taura walked in around around Hermione's desk with her afternoon tea and leaned up against it. "You alright?"

A sigh left Hermione's lungs before she could inhale to reply, "As good as I'll be for now." She pushed back her work and leaned back into her chair.

"What was the verdict on Malfoy?"

"He's at St. Mungo's, in the psychiatric ward. Harry managed to get him there safely. He says Malfoy's well taken care of; safe and recovering."

"That's a relief. I'm glad he's okay."

Hermione nodded while biting the inside of her lip.

"You're still worried." Taura inspected her body language and her tone of voice, which she always seemed to do fairly well.

With a shrug of her shoulders and a downward curl to her mouth, Hermione replied, "He was seconds away from killing himself, how could I not be. He's severely depressed and suffers from extreme PTSD. His own mind belittles him and tears him down. I just hope he realizes how good of a person he really is."

"You care for him." Merlin, Taura could see through her like a ghost.

"Course I do. I can tell he's changed, no longer the small little git he once was. He's grown out of old habits, I suppose I don't only care for him because I feel sorry for him, either. He's bright and intelligent. He made a great acquaintance, a great colleague."

"No, there's something deeper. I can sense it."

Hermione's cheeks turned red in embarrassment. "I.. I don't know."

Taura gave her a soft smile and nodded, seeming to understand that she needed to figure out her own feelings before she could speak of them. She left her alone for the rest of the day to read Malfoy's notes, and she made notes of her own off of them.

When she arrived home, it smelt of her favourite homemade meal; chicken and potatoes. Crookshanks purred against her feet as he attempted to walk toward the kitchen.

"Ow, bollocks." Ron was standing in front of the stove, attempting to make a gravy from the chicken droppings.

"W-what's this?" Hermione asked.

"Merlin, Hermione, you scared me half to death," he looked back at his gravy, which in his eyes looked to be about as close as gravy as it'll get, "I came to make you your favourite meal."

She was still a little upset about their argument on Saturday. They barely spoke yesterday, just a few owls back and forth about small talk and gossip.

"Yes, but why?" She stood, still confused.

His mouth gaped as if he were trying to find a reason why, but quickly closed as he wiped his hands.

"This is my apology, for being a foul git. Once again." He looked back and realized he hadn't turned the oven off.

"Why do you suspect you were being a foul git?" Hermione sat at her bar, knowing fully why he was but needed to hear him admit it.

"W-well the things I said about Malfoy and Death Eaters. I suppose you were right, about me being wrong. I hadn't had any interactions with any of them, or anyone for that matter, since after the War." He walked closer as he talked, "I haven't moved past the War, or grieved properly. I think I went into dragon-training to take out the emotions I'd been feeling, all the pent up stress and sadness."

He stood looking at her across the kitchen island. "I never gave anyone a chance, really. I felt almost scared to. I understand that they were forced, and I can't hold grudges forever. I've come to realize that holding grudges was more destructive toward myself than they were protective."

"And you came to that conclusion over the span of two days?" While she was glad he's finally seeing it her way, she was still skeptical.

"Well, deep down I'd known. I have to get over the War at some point and I have to accept everything that happened. I just never knew how to, I guess fleeing the country was my way of coping."

Hermione nodded, understanding his reasoning and coping mechanisms. "He really isn't that bad. Malfoy." Ron looked at her intently, "He's contributed quite a bit of useful work to the S.P.E.W. that I'm grateful for. He even found a book that I'd never read regarding the mistreatment of House Elves."

"And... and working with him, isn't as horrid as I would imagine?" He asked rather awkwardly.

She shook her head, "He really has changed. At first he was closed off and only kept to himself, much like he was in our last years at Hogwarts. But he's opened up and began to really give valuable contributions to the Law I've been building."

He nodded, seeming to understand. "And he really hasn't been giving you a hard time?"

Hermione lifted her shoulders as she put her lips between her teeth, "He hasn't called me a mudblood or gave me that death glare he was always good at. He seemed to want to work with me and build this new Law as much as I have. He's matured, and wanted to have a normal life again." She looked down, feeling guilty about the parts she'd left out. His face an inch away from hers, his hands like a feather on her skin, his eyes. Those god damn eyes. She cleared her throat, "It's been going well." Then she thought of where he was now, "Rather, it was going well."

Ron nodded, "Harry told me what's happened. A shame, it is. No matter who it happens to."

She nodded as well. "I was only worried, he was a good colleague. We all have our ways with dealing what had happened during the War. You turned to challenging your abilities with dragons, Harry turned to helping people, I turned to sticking my nose in books. It all effected us, one way or another. I suppose some of it is due to survivor's guilt, but we've all been coping. We still are." She looked at Ron, "Even the ones who were on the wrong side of the War."

"I am sorry for how I reacted. I've barely been around everyone, and when I came back it sort felt like we were still there. Like we were still in a War." He looked at her apologetically.

She gave a small smile, "I understand."

They ate together, sharing great moments once again. Doing as best friends do after an argument, laughing at how they'd both acted and put it behind them.

Hermione couldn't put it behind her, however. It bothered her that if that's how Ron reacted toward former Death Eaters, then many others shared the same opinion.

•••

Throughout the week, Ron began to open his mind and had grown used to the world as it is now. No more War to be fought, no more hiding to be done, no more worrying.

Hermione was happy that he was finally seeing the world as she saw it; free. They'd gone to coffee shops, Muggle museums, and even saw the rebuilt Diagon Alley. It looked exactly the same, though Ollivander's had a different owner but still upheld the name. Knockturn Alley was still dodgy, but not as much as before. As in, Death Eaters didn't lurk about it but rather alcoholics and forgotten wizards and witches. Though they did meet up with a certain half-giant, which brought happiness to them all.

They spent the weekend at the Burrow, and Hermione was beyond happy to see everyone together again. She'd talked to Ginny, not about Malfoy or the letters which she terribly wanted to, but about how well Ron is adjusting and how happy they are about him being back. She told George how happy she is for him and the shop with all its success. Even talked to Molly and she'd mentioned how thankful he is for Hermione.

At night, however, Hermione's thoughts caught up with her as they always did. She had been owling Harry to ask if he had heard how Malfoy was doing, if he's making any progress. He always informed her that he was, and she must stop worrying.

At work, she'd been reading the text Malfoy had left her and she wrote an extensive amount of notes on it. With each paragraph and page she read, she grew more grateful for him. She finally felt as though she was making progress and felt the Law was nearly ready to present.

She missed his insight and up front opinions and questions. She missed how he challenged her. She missed having a colleague, someone to share excitement about a breakthrough with.

Another week had passed and Ron and her had spent every day together, whenever she wasn't at work of course. Even then, he would show up for lunch and then pick her up at the end of the day.

He was trying, and adapting really well. It's all she ever asked her, and she was happy. But she would be lying if she said there wasn't a day that went by where she didn't think of Malfoy. She would wonder how the treatments were going with the healing Aurors. If he was smiling, showing all of his teeth or just a grin. If he was reading. If he was getting along well with others or if he was keeping to himself.

Hermione was half way through writing another letter to Harry when Ron came by for lunch.

"Hello, love. I've bought us some sandwiches from the shop down the street. A shop called Knuts and Firebolts. Odd name for a place where everything costs a galleon and some sickles and the service was quite slow if you ask me." He held up a bag along with a cup of coffee for her.

Pushing aside the letter and her notes, she replied, "Oh thank you, I've been wanting to try out that place." She grabbed her coffee and sandwich from him and began to eat.

Ron looked curiously at her desk, turning his head every which way to read the notes scattered across it. "What were you writing to Harry?"

She nearly choked on her sandwich, "I was going to ask him how Malfoy is doing."

Ron looked at her and slowly began to nod his head. "You haven't heard about him since?"

"I have, I just wanted to see if he's making progress."

He nodded once again. "I'm sure he is if you haven't heard anything from the last time you wrote."

He'd seen her letters to Harry for the past couple weeks on her desk and on her dresser in her bedroom, but he never spoke of them. He wasn't sure how to bring them up, whether he should feel jealous or not. He'd seen the way she would jump up at the sight of Hedwig at the window. He knew it was a letter regarding Malfoy.

His worries and insecurities grew the longer it went on.

On a Sunday morning when he was finished making breakfast, he looked at Hermione as she ate her waffles with a vacant look. He imagined she was thinking of Malfoy. "How is he?" He asked.

Hermione came back to her senses and looked at him with wide eyes, "Who? Malfoy?" She pushed her scrambled eggs around on her plate.

Ron nodded and noticed she tried to find an answer as she ate, "Harry said he's doing well. He's been going to see him almost every week."

"I'm sure he's still doing fine. You shouldn't worry about it too much, 'Mione. I can see what it's doing to you."

"It's just hard to not worry, after having to worry about everyone during the War. It's as if it's wired into me."

"I can understand that. But it's Malfoy, you know? He has the support of the Aurors, his friends, his mother. You shouldn't concern yourself with a problem that's being taken care of."

He was right. Hermione knew he was. This wasn't her problem to worry about, and as Harry said there was nothing she could do. It wasn't like she could rid herself of this worry, though. She couldn't help it.

After a couple exchanged sentences about work and other topics, Hermione had gone to shower and get ready for lunch at the Burrow.

Ron was heading upstairs to join her as well when he accidentally tripped over a box when turning the corner toward the staircase. One of the flaps swung open and revealed a heap of letters. He bent down to get a better look. He remembers them, from when he came back to visit a while back.

Looks as if Hermione had opened and read some. He picked up the one from May, 1998. His stomach dropped, his chest burned, and he suddenly felt like his breath was caught in his throat as he read through the whole letter.

Sincerely,

Draco

Sadness and anger taking over his body, he read previous ones that she had opened.

Your smile is so beautiful. The way your mouth gapes, eyes squint, and head rolls back as you laugh stops me in my tracks every single time.

Imagining is the only thing that keeps me sane now, I suppose. Imagining there's a normal future for me is what gets me through everything I do. A future with you.

How dare he claim he feels this way with all the horrid things he had done. To Harry, to himself, and most of all to Hermione. He was angry, furious, wanting to take a trip to St. Mungo's and yell at the white-haired freak until his voice gave out.

He stood with the last letter that was written, still staring down at the box.

Was this why Hermione was so worried? He heard her deep breaths and whimpers while she was dreaming. Or rather, having nightmares. All he could assume was that they were about the War, or something else. Now all he could think of was her dreaming about Malfoy. These letters confirmed his thoughts.

Ron had felt their relationship was slipping, he could feel the communication decreasing bit by bit. She hadn't even told him who was working for her when they brought former Death Eaters into the Ministry, it was Ginny who did. He barely knew what she was up to these days, what she did on her down time. They barely even talked then.

Hermione was always it for him, she was always the one he would end up with. But what if she didn't feel the same anymore? These letters could change everything. Bloody hell, they've already changed everything, haven't they?

He noticed she'd been distant, barely seeming engaged in any activities they do. Ron knew she was worried about Malfoy's well-being, but didn't know this was why. She had feelings for him. How could he be so blind to it all?

"We should go to the grocery store after we get back, we need broccoli—"

He looked at her with the letter in hand, not recognizing the woman who stood before him. Her eyes looked down at his fist which was crinkling the letter.

"Ron—" She looked back up at him.

He held the letter up in front of her face, "Is this why you're so worried about him? Because he had feelings for you and now you feel the same?"

Hermione began to panic. Of course these letters had surprised her but she never would like someone like Malfoy. Of course not. Never.

"No, Ron, I didn't figure out it was him who sent the letters until after he'd been sent to St. Mungo's."

"Hermione, you've been acting different and defensive even before that. What's going on?"

Hermione didn't know. She didn't know what was going on with her, and she was just as confused as Ron was. Every second of the day she worried about Malfoy so much so it haunted her dreams. She couldn't eat without thinking about what he's eating, she couldn't sleep without thinking about how uncomfortable his bed must be, she couldn't go a day without wondering if he's going to be okay.

"I don't know, Ron."

"You don't know." Ron nodded in disbelief. His whole life, this girl was in all his thoughts and dreams. His whole life he envisioned his life with her. Now she's hiding love letters from him. Letters from Malfoy. Now she's defending him. Wanting to know how he's doing every day. This hurt Ron, it angered him and hurt him more than anything ever has before.

He threw the letter down at the box and proceeded to the door to grab his coat.

"Ron, no, stop. You don't understand! He's a coworker and I was excited to finally have someone to share this great thing with. Someone to work with." She followed him to try and talk some sense into him, though her mind was jumbled with anything but sense. "When you hear someone was a second away from hurting themselves, it affects you, Ron. It affected me in a way I couldn't predict, I didn't know it would worry me this much."

Ron listened to her, and he tried to understand. He tried to rationalize her behaviour and her reasoning. But he couldn't keep lying to himself. "You have feelings for him, 'Mione. Any blind fool could see it if they heard the way you talk of him." He turned back to her while putting on his coat. "You defend him, you keep in touch with Harry to see how he's doing. Merlin, Hermione, you asked him if you could visit Malfoy at St. Mungo's!"

She gasped slightly. "Yeah. I saw your letter to him. Harry was with Ginny at the Burrow when you sent it." He turned toward her.

Hermione felt as if her world were falling apart. She loved Ron, and very thing she had been hiding from him is revealing itself. Everything that made her comfortable and stable in this new world, suddenly was being taken away.

"I-I just wanted to see how he was doing. It means nothing, Ron. I swear, it means nothing!" Unable to move her feet, she stared at him as he crossed the floor toward the floo.

"If it meant nothing Hermione you wouldn't be acting this way. I know when something's off, and I can see the look in your face. It's not nothing. I know that now."

"Ron I swear on my life—"

Something came over Ron. He was done with this nonsense, "Then choose," He snapped back with a stern voice while slowly walking toward her, "Choose, Hermione."

"Choose? What, c-choose what?" A tear slipped down her face, her entire world being held together by a single thread.

"It's me or him. I can't keep lying to myself and rationalizing your behaviour." He stood tall and stern.

Hermione was broken now; torn between choosing her desired future and something she'd never thought she would want. But she does. She wants it, she wants Malfoy and she knew she had been lying to herself as well.

But Ron was her everything. Ron was the rock that kept her stable, the anchor in this hell-ridden ocean storm that she called life. She loved Ron more than anything she'd ever loved before.

"I..." With tears in her eyes she spoke, "I choose... you. I choose you, Ron." She whispered, looking at him with pleading eyes. She needed him, without him she didn't know what she'd do.

He studied her for a few seconds, almost wondering if what she said was true. "I'm not sure if I believe you, Hermione." He looked down, his chest burning even more with the sudden ping of sadness and heart break.

Hermione nodded. "It's... it's you, Ron." Her eyes were looking at him, but he could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, as they usually were as of late.

He walked to stand right in front of her, looking down at her wet cheeks, furrowed eyebrows, and frown. "Hermione. You either choose me and forget about him, or you choose him and I leave."

Hermione broken their eye contact. She couldn't stop worrying about Malfoy even if she tried. But in saying that, it means she loses Ron and she doesn't think she could bare to lose him.

"I can't just stop worrying about someone." She grew offended and defensive once again. It's her nature to worry about people, she's had a saviour complex about her that she couldn't get rid of, even when she was younger.

Ron's heart broke in a million pieces as she said that sentence. He nodded as he looked down at his shoes. His whole world, too, had fallen apart. "Then I have to go." His voice broke as he talked.

Hermione shook her head as she looked at him. "Ron," she whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand, "Don't. Please." She looked at him, the love of her life. Her chest burning and her head pounding from the swelling of her tears.

Ron looked at his broken, long time best friend turned girlfriend. He loved her. With all his heart, he swore he'd never love anyone as much he loved Hermione. But Harry's words were engraved in his mind.

Like she wanted to save him herself.

That was something he couldn't look past or get over.

He looked at her. "I love you, Hermione. I do. But I can't keep giving myself to someone you only reciprocates less than half of what I give." He was barely able to get this out without cracking his voice or crying. He, too, was teary-eyed. "Take care of yourself, yeah?" Was his last words before he floo'ed out.

Lost. Blind. The sadness overcame her, she couldn't fathom that she had lost her best friend. Her rock. The only person in this world she felt completely comfortable around. And it was gone, just like that.

She doesn't even remember what she'd spent the rest of the night doing. She was completely disassociated with the world. She felt numb, cold. As if all the emotions left her body. Most of all, she felt alone. Like she was the only person in the world who could feel this level of pain. and she felt she deserved it.