Disclaimer: I have no claim to JK Rowling's beautiful works.

There are several character deaths in this chapter, including suicide. Please consider your mental health before continuing reading.

In their fifth year, Hermione and Draco promised to write to each other over the summer, but three weeks had passed, and he still hadn't received an owl from her. Their agreement, however, was made before his outburst. He had sat down numerous times to draft an apology for calling her a 'Mudblood,' but every time, his words just felt stale and overused. Frustrated that he couldn't find the right words, he always burned the letters and went for a run afterward to clear his mind.

He was running through the grounds of Malfoy Manor in the fragile dawn air, and the only sound was his shoes crunching the dry leaves as he leaped over the uneven path. He found this path to be a perfect mix of peace and exhilaration, one he had treaded often since summer break started taking each step with increasing certainty. The trees were swaying in the breeze above him as he passed through the groves where they grew, ducking when a branch was hanging too low. His arms pumping back and forth and his breath gusting out in a perfect rhythm – it made him feel human. The constant movement made his mind feel empty, and he almost forgot why he began running in the first place.

In the past, he would trek out to the Quidditch pitch behind the west wing of the manor to fly a few rounds, but that all changed when he and Hermione Granger were assigned potions partners.

Hermione.

There she was again invading his thoughts. He cursed himself and abruptly stopped running. Steadying his breath, he looked around and became aware of his surroundings. He was close to the border of the Malfoy estate, and for some reason, his subconscious always brought him here.

To his left was a small paved and weathered path that, over time, had sunken into the earth as if it belonged to the surrounding foliage. It led up a hill where the ruins of an old stone church rested at the top. As he made his way up the steps to a forgotten heaven, a family of birds fluttered out of their nest, clearly startled by his arrival. Blanketed with rubble and patches of gaily green moss, his untouched stash of getaway items lay in the inner sanctuary and underneath the altar.

It was an uncertain time for him, and even he knew his days were numbered with the acceptance of joining Voldemort's inner circle. Every male in the Malfoy family had been bestowed the honor of the Dark Mark no matter their opinion of it. Draco's fate wouldn't be any different. But after he was assigned to work with Hermione on Professor Snape's project, Draco's opinion of her and his future remained uncertain.

The monthly allowance from his father was exchanged into Muggle currency upon Draco's request. He hoped that his father would never look for him in the muggle world if it came down to it. His father's dislike and prejudice towards muggles never faltered, and neither did his hypocrisy with his muggle antiques and gun collection. Part of that collection was the golden encrusted Walther PP and a rare .45 Luger, of which only five were made. Lucius was proud of his collection but never mentioned it to anyone. Even Hermione was shocked when Draco told her about it.

Damn.

Realizing that she wouldn't leave his thoughts that easily, he began running the two-mile journey through the woods back to the Manor. Once he was showered and appropriately dressed, he made his way through the grand marble hallways to the right wing.

The study has always been his mother's favorite room; to his left, there were red wine curtains and large floral carved pillars separating each floor to ceiling window with two tufted armchairs facing the Italianate garden. A large blue settee stood in front of a double fireplace flanked by several massive bookshelves on either side adorned with knowledge and art, the books all neatly tucked side by side in alphabetical order. Dark hardwood floors lined the length of the room with several Persian rugs that looked like they had never been walked on. Dark green wainscoting engulfed the room in uncomfortable darkness along the walls. Several unlit candelabras stood around the room, but the light from the windows and two large crystal chandeliers that hung on the beamed ceiling was the only illumination the room received.

Draco stopped on the threshold, watching his mother sitting by the window in her favorite armchair. Her once sparkling blue eyes were hollow and weary, and a frown grazed her thin pale lips. She didn't acknowledge Draco as he entered; her back turned to the room, gazing with a blank stare out the window. Despite his longing to sit with his mother, he instead went to his sister.

Seraphina had turned one a week ago and was taking unsteady steps and pulling out books from the bookcases lined the right wall. She was wearing a yellow dress which brought an unusual cheeriness to the darkly decorated room. Her thin curly blonde hair and pale blue eyes sparkled with joy upon seeing her brother, her tiny hands reaching out for a hug. Draco picked her up, celebrated her achievement with a kiss on her cheek, and turned to look at his mother's reaction, but she remained unchanged in her seat by the window. He pulled out his wand to clean up the books she had dropped, and small 'pop' made Seraphina look down and squeal in delight at Blinky, who had apparated into the room.

Bowing in Draco's direction, the house elf spoke, "Master Lucius requests Master Draco in the drawing room."

"Thank you, Blinky. Do stay with Seraphina and my mother until I return."

"Yes, Master Draco."

"I'll be right back, love." He knelt in the middle of the room and placed Seraphina on the carpet, and turned to leave the room.

He found his father in the drawing room standing in front of a small mahogany table on the opposite wall of the fireplace; several documents were spread out on top. Silently he read one of the papers, his right index finger following along while cradling a glass with amber liquid in his left hand. He twirled the glass before taking a sip and meeting Draco's gaze.

His father was prepping for his annual summer ball at the Manor, where only the wealthiest families were invited - purebloods and close followers of the Dark Lord. Before the return of Voldemort, the Death Eaters used the event to discuss his rebirth, and now it was just an excuse for them to torture Muggles and for his father to use it as a fundraiser for the Dark Lords work. Draco never liked being home during the summer at the Manor; the only reason he did come home was to watch over his mother's unstable demeanor and since last year to also watch over Seraphina.

His mother wasn't always like the empty shell she was now; she was vibrant and full of life. After Draco was born, Narcissa contracted a virus that made her deadly ill for many days, and the healers told her that she would not be able to carry another child. Narcissa was devastated, considering she always desired a large family, but the womb does not respond to a women's request. It was not until Draco's third year that he received an owl informing him that he would become a big brother. He was nervous but excited to be fulfilling that role. However, his excitement was short-lived; during Narcissa's first trimester, a horseback riding accident caused his mother to miscarry, bringing her into a new wave of despair. It wasn't only his mother that changed; his father spent more time in his study drinking while focused on the family's business expansion into the Americas and the Dark Lords bidding.

When Draco returned home for Christmas break in his fourth year, his father announced that his mother was pregnant again, but all three were cautious in celebrating. While his father was drunk one evening, he approached Draco and told him that Narcissa wasn't like this before Draco came. She was full of life and utterly thrilled to bring an heir to the Malfoy name. Longing to please Lucius with another child, Draco's parents tried for years to conceive again, but the loss of two children was too great for her to regain love for simple things.

Narcissa had severe complications with her fourth child. She struggled with depression and severe nausea that could've led to dangerous levels of malnutrition for mother and baby. Lucius sought out help from Professor Snape due to the healers from St. Mungos not providing the proper care. Every time the healers would administer a potion, she would recover for a couple of days but then resume her bodily torture. Lucius threatened them with vile words and threw them out of the manor. Professor Snape brewed a potion to be administered daily and instructed her to be placed on bed rest to lessen her nausea. Narcissa's nausea stopped, but she struggled to attach and nurture her baby when she was born a month early. With the constant looming presence of Voldemort and the psychological and physical torture of the pregnancy, the house elves ended up taking care of Seraphina. Her father barely glanced in her direction.

"How is your mother?" Lucius asked, unmoving.

"Unchanged. She still sits by the window or roams the gardens. Even with Seraphina taking her first steps, mother doesn't seem fazed by it. You should see her father; she is quite determined."

Lucius only gives a curt nod. "Severus will be by shortly with her potion. Do make sure she gets it. "

"Yes, father." He knew his father blamed himself and Draco even more for his mother's condition, but he knew there was no reasoning with him even on sober days. He took responsibility for taking care of his mother and administering the potion. It was a complex brew that even he had tried to replicate in his rooms, but after multiple fails, he left the task to Professor Snape. Instead, he experimented with his list of potions and kept the vials stocked in his room.

"We will have the largest attendance on record this evening. Make me proud, Draco. Make sure your mother is where she needs to be."

Draco knew very well that he was to take his mother to her room and make sure that she didn't make her presence known. Lucius would make up some lavish excuse for her not being in attendance. It's been the same cover-up for a while. Talk about the upkeep of the Malfoy's name.

"I had already spoken with Blinky this morning after breakfast. Everything will be taken care of."

Lucius nodded in his son's direction and turned his attention back to the papers on the table. "You're dismissed."

Before heading back to the study, Draco decided to retrieve Seraphina's favorite toy out of her room. A light-changing orb about half the size of a bludger where, if a hand passes over it at the right angle, a tiny fairy emerged and flew around in loops and swirls, shooting sparkles out of her small wand. Draco had bought it for her a few weeks before her birthday while joining his father in Diagon Alley to buy his new robes for the next school year. Once he saw the small fairy flying with her wand in the air, he knew it would be perfect for her.

With the toy in his left hand, he made his way back down the hall and descended down the grand staircase towards the study. The only sound in the hall came from his shoes hitting the cool polished marble floor; even the portraits on the walls didn't speak. It wasn't until he was almost down the stairs that he felt an uneasy feeling creep up in the pit of his stomach. He stopped, his right hand holding the elegant wood railing while peering over his right shoulder to catch his bearings. He didn't hear anything unusual but subconsciously still reached for his wand, which he carried in his suit jacket, but found it missing. Remembering the last time he used it was in the study, he immediately broke out into a run.

Mother. Seraphina.

Panting, Draco stopped a second time that morning in the study's threshold. He found his wand clutched in his mother's right hand as she stood over Seraphina, who was still in the middle of the room where Draco placed her a short moment ago. His sister was lying on her back, eyes open; she wasn't breathing. Draco looked around and saw that Blinky was not in the room either.

"Mother?" Draco asked with frightened confusion, carefully placing the toy on the table next to the door, his right arm cautiously outstretched towards his mother. His mother didn't react; her head hung low with her chin almost to her chest. He realized that the wards alerted him on the staircase. An Unforgivable was cast in the manor against a family member. He was sure his father felt it too. He would have been ready to duel a rogue Death Eater, even Potter, but nothing prepared him for what was in front of him.

"Mother?" He repeated a little louder, inching towards her with his arm still outstretched.

She sluggishly lifted her head and glanced in Draco's direction. He could see tears pooling in her eyes, ready to spill. She didn't blink, and wand still pointed at Seraphina.

"You've been so good to me, Draco." A light smile graced her lips which did not reach her eyes.

"Mother, please give me the wand." He was almost within arm's reach of her when she raised his wand and pointed it at her chest; a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Avada Kedavra." A blinding green light burst from the end of the wand – "No!"- Draco leaped forward to divert the spell, but his mother fell lifeless in his arms next to his sister.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet.

The ticking of the brass clock above the mantle mocked him with every 'tick-tock.'

He looked at his mother's face, void of any worry and struggles, tracing every line, every freckle. She looked so peaceful like she was sleeping, and he half expected her to wake up.

He placed a light kiss on her cheek and picked up Seraphina placing her in her mother's arms. He wanted her to remember her mother's touch, one that was loving and soft. A kind of love where she would be cradled in the night when she was ill or where she was held close when she was hurting.

But unfortunately, life does hurt, and his mother hurt more than anyone knew. He knew death was a relief for her, and she had been ready for her conclusion for a very long time. He just never expected her to go through with it, and not in such a way.

He took his wand out of his mother's hand with trembling hands and walked over to her armchair. He stood with his fingers intertwined in his hair, pacing in circles. From outside the window, he heard the winds rustling the trees.

"Fuck!" Draco dropped his head in between his elbows, gripping the top of the armchair with both his hands, his knuckles turning white.

Breathe.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco turned on his heel to see his wand fly into his father's outstretched hand, pure malice visible on his face.

"Father!" His mind was frozen. Would he even believe me? "I can explain! Mother-," Draco began, but his father held up his hand to silence him.

"I'd be cautious what you say next. "This," Lucius said, pointing his wand in the direction of Narcissa's lifeless body, "is not what I meant when I said to 'take care of her.'"

"I would never!" Surprising even to him that his voice broke slightly from nervousness.

"How about we let the wand speak for itself? Prior Incantato." A small golden light emerged from his father's wand, and the smiling image of his mother and then his sister appeared in a grey mist between them.

Draco ran a nervous hand through his blonde hair, tousling his already disheveled mane. How was he going to get out of this? His whole family walked on eggshells around Lucius. His temper made him seem like some caged animal that would lash out at the next interaction.

"Crucio!" Draco saw a flash of red light and, for a millisecond, braced himself before doubling over with a deep ache in his bones. A blaze of pain surged through his body, causing him to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. His skin felt like it was on fire, and before he thought he couldn't take it anymore, it was over. His muscles quivered, and his lungs screamed for air. He heard his father's voice, but he couldn't comprehend what was said before his skin was ablaze again. He tried to breathe through the pain, but the ache from the first curse only intensified, causing him to writhe on the floor.

He lost track of time while lying on the floor, falling in and out of consciousness, unknown how often his father cursed him. The ticking of the clock made Draco force his eyes open. Glad that the room was only dimly illuminated, his eyes still stung, causing his eyes to water. Trying to sit up, he groaned from the exertion. Searching out his father by looking around the room, he immediately felt dizzy from the pain. His mother and sister still lay in an embrace on the floor. Lucius leaned against the window, his legs outstretched and his ankles crossed with a lit cigar in his left hand.

"You know my boy. I always liked you." Lucius pressed the end of the cigar to his lips and exhaled the smoke engulfing his face, pushing himself away from the window. "You were to be the one to take over the Malfoy Enterprise." Raising his arms to point around the room, he continued, "You could have had it all. The Dark Lord was eager to make your acquaintance. It's a shame, really."

Draco tried to clear his throat to talk some sense into his father, but all he could do was cough. He crawled to lean against the settee with his knees bent and arms resting on top. All he could do was listen to his father as he desperately longed for a glass of water.

Lucius took another puff of the cigar before laying it down on an ashtray and walking over to Draco. "Stand up." It was not a request.

They stood almost eye to eye, Draco nervously shuffling his feet, his throat still on fire. "I'm not going to let you spoil what I have taken so long to build." Lucius reached up with his hands and started to squeeze Draco's throat in an instant. Reflexively, Draco tried to twist out of his grasp, his hand darting to grab at his father's wrist. The blood roared in his ears, and his half-paralyzed throat yearned for release. Lucius abruptly pulled back his hand as if burned and looked at Draco, who was coughing and gasping for air with his hands on his throat. Draco thought he saw fear flash across his father's face, but whatever it was, his usual steel-hard glare replaced it.

He reached inside his robe and pulled out Draco's wand eying it. "If there's one thing the Dark Lord has taught me, it's always to tie up loose ends. I'm going to enjoy this." He handed Draco his wand and instantaneously pulled out his own to utter the curse that killed his mother and sister just moments ago.

"Avada Kedavra!"

(7 years later)

It was nearing midnight when the battle began on the steps of Hogwarts; a drizzle was falling from the dark sky, causing puddles to form on the uneven pavement of the school's courtyard. There was no witch or wizard on the steps of Hogwarts that didn't want to take a stand against the evil threatening their world. Wands in hand, they were ready to defend themselves, to utilize every spell Hogwarts and the Resistance taught them. The stakes were high, but no one chose to surrender; it was a battle that needed to be fought - and won.

Hermione was grateful that Harry, Ron, and she were outside the boathouse at the proper moment when Voldemort ordered Nagini to attack Professor Snape. The previous year, working on an extra potion project enabled Hermione to stock up on rare and valuable potions. She was grateful that he allowed her to keep them, even if it was a bit unusual for him because it saved his life at this exact moment. Using a Blood Replenishing Potion, she had pulled from her enchanted satchel as well as the remaining dittany to close his wounds, giving him just enough strength to carry on for the remainder of the battle.

He was in the Hogwarts courtyard next to Hermione and Neville, dueling against Avery Nott and Thorfinn Rowle, dodging jets of light from all angles. Occasionally she would jerk from an explosion inside the school, sending debris and shattered glass towards their feet. The last blast was almost deafening, and it made her turn her head in the direction of the noise.

The next moment stretched past her in slow motion; she could have sworn that it felt like an hour. She looked towards the castle, and even with the faint illumination from the school, there was no denying who it was with that infamous pale blonde hair. Hermione watched as he gradually climbed over the collected bodies and rubble leading to the school's stairs. Once he reached the top, he turned around and scanned the crowd as if looking for someone. His eyes directly locked with hers and the grip on her wand almost caused it to snap in half. Lucius. Their connection, however, didn't last long as he turned and retreated inside the castle, and Professor Snape called her name.

Get a grip.

Just as she was about to turn her attention back to Rowle and Nott, a curse hit her right shoulder, causing her stomach to lurch and push out her breath. She was trying to refill her lungs but could only gulp and mouth noiselessly. While gasping like a fish out of water, she fell to the ground and started to shake involuntary. She was lying on her back, raindrops kissing her face when suddenly her body relaxed, the tightness in her chest gone, but coughing and gasping for air.

While laying on the wet and cold ground, her body had crouched into a fetal position; she saw Nott and Rowle fall a few feet from her and lay amongst her fallen friends, blank and lifeless eyes staring into the distance. Hermione felt a warm hand of comfort on her shoulder as Professor Snape checked her vitals, and Neville knelt by her side. She was about to curse herself for her moment of weakness when an unholy guttural roar pierced the air; she felt it in her bones before it assaulted her ears, a sound so loud that it caused everyone to look up to the source of the sound.

But Hermione had heard that all familiar sound before in her fourth year, and it made her stomach turn. It was coming from the village of Hogsmeade, and there in the blackened sky, they saw three oversized dark silhouettes flying down the mountains with an intense whooshing sound ending with a resounding crack, like a sail in a violent storm.

Three dragons flew directly towards the battle with glistening metallic grey scales, hard as steel and impenetrable by magic, burning red eyes that searched the crowd below them. Someone was sitting on each dragon, guiding them with a harness, one of them with striking red hair.

Oh Charlie, thank Merlin.

This unusual and dangerous sight made them stand and shelter in the castle. There's only so much magic you can use against a dragon. They ran deep inside the school, and a couple of corridors past the great hall, they found Fleur, Ron, Bill, and his parents cornered and fighting off Death Eaters, Bellatrix, and Fenrir amongst them. When Bellatrix saw Professor Snape around the corner, she erupted in malice and hysteria. Outnumbered against the Death Eaters, they still took a defensive stance, jets of light flying from their wands and electricity crackling in the air, both sides dueling to kill.

Before they felt it, a large rumble was heard, making the walls shudder as if they were alive. A dragon had landed. Cracks in the walls made a large piece of stone disconnect itself from the wall and fall in Molly's direction. Arthur cast Arresto Momentum and then levitated the large piece away from her, giving himself enough time to push Molly out of harm's way.

Overthrown with adrenaline and underestimating his strength, he pushed his wife into the wall where she stumbled and dislocated her right arm, her fighting arm. All the while, a second piece had broken free and crushed Arthur's leg, pinning him. This moment gave Fenrir an opportune moment to attack Arthur and Molly like a cat that's cornered a mouse. The wet rip of torn flesh caused Bill to cry out in rage and charge towards him. Pulling a knife out of his inner jacket, a most invaluable tool in his profession, he raised his hand to kill him, but just as he did, another rumble erupted and shook the ground. A second dragon had landed, making Fenrir jerk up and attack Bill. A green jet of light flew from Fleur's wand, immediately killing the savage werewolf but not before he plunged his teeth into Bill's neck – snapping it and instantly killing him.

Bellatrix cackled with laughter in the back of the crowd. Her position behind the Death Eaters made it ideal for blocking out all the curses aimed at her. Nevertheless, she only had eyes for Professor Snape. Confirming her suspicions that he was indeed a spy all along just infuriated her even more.

Witnessing the death of his beloved family, Ron advanced, inching the Death Eaters closer and closer to the end of the hall. A curse flew towards Bellatrix, but her wand flashed and twirled, blocking their advances. Hermione lifted her wand, shouting 'Expulso,'resulting in Bellatrix being thrown back as if she was hit by a speeding car. She slammed into the already war-damaged wall behind her with a crushing force, bounced off, and collapsed onto the floor. The ceiling crashed down in a pile of stones crushing Bellatrix and the remaining Death Eaters with a loud thunderous crash.

Everyone coughed as the hall filled with a cloud of dust from the shattered ceiling; Hermione could hardly see through the haze making her eyes fill with tears. Neville cast an incantation to clear the air, and Hermione turned to look for Ron, her tears falling freely now at the scene before her. She found him slumped against the wall, head in his hands and shoulders lightly trembling - Fleur at his side, the bodies of Arthur, Molly, and Bill resting at his feet.

Adrenaline subsiding Hermione's mind was frozen, and she failed to comprehend what had just happened. Her heart stood still, and her breathing stopped. Her eyes were the only part of her still moving, darting back and forth around the hallway. It was cruel that her body couldn't remember how to shut them; this was something she didn't want to see. Hermione started swaying, unable to hold her balance. She felt a comforting hand on her right shoulder, and as she turned to look, she saw Neville watching the somber scene before them. She gave him a weak nod which he mirrored.

Her attention moved to Professor Snape, with a blood-strewn face and slightly paler complexion, levitated the large boulder from Arthur and Molly and knelt next to them. He gently closed Arthur's eyes while whispering softly, then proceeded to do the same for Molly and Bill.

They brought the fallen into the Great Hall away from Death Eaters and Voldemort's body. A solemn silence crept over Hogwarts when Voldemort died, weakened by the thought that Nagini had eliminated the previous master to the elder wand; he did not last long in the duel against Harry. The survivors made a unanimous decision to burn the bodies of the Death Eaters in the courtyard where the battle took place, the dragons chained amongst the ruins of the school, like three giant gatekeepers to hell. It was a burial that no one wanted to take part in.

Instead, everyone was on the other side of the lake, Hermione standing next to Ron and his brothers beside him. A light breeze danced around her, bringing a mixed scent of wood and burning flesh invading her sense of smell; the blazing fire across the lake reflected on the black abyss. Harry and Ginny embraced behind them, an occasional uncontrolled sob coming from the redheaded witch.

Friends and family lay next to Dumbledore's tomb alongside the lake. Professor Flitwick conjured a single headstone by their graves with the Hogwarts emblem engraved. Headmistress McGonagall held a small vigil, and afterward, everyone started trickling back towards the castle, exhaustion, and loss overcoming them.

Hermione didn't know how she ended up just a few feet away from the crowd or how long she had been standing there, but as she was watching the golden sunrise wash away the shadows of a small headstone, it brought her back to her senses. She read the inscription, like she had since Headmistress McGonagall allowed her to place it there a year ago.

Draco Malfoy

Loved but not forgotten.

There was a time when she hoped she would stop having the same dream of the final battle, but it came back every year, right around the last two weeks of summer break. She hoped that she could put the battle and the scars it left behind her after seven years.

It was Friday, and she was sitting at her desk in her office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement which had a large bay window to her left overlooking the current rainy central London. Scattered were her forgotten lunch and papers on the mahogany tabletop. It was a gloomy day that matched her mood perfectly. She knew she needed to get to those files before the end of the week, but she couldn't bring herself to concentrate. A vase with seven red antirrhinums on her desk diverted her attention. Hermione absentmindedly grazed one of the petals, which caused the flower to turn and show the resemblance it was known for, a dragon.

Snapdragons. Draco. She never thought she could sum up so much loss into one word.

Earlier in the day, she visited Fleur and purchased seven flowers for each year that Draco had been dead.

She hoped that the small shop in the back of Diagon Alley wasn't closed yet. Upon entering, she took a heavy breath and opened the door, head tilting a bit at the small tinkling bell above her.

"Bonjour, Hermione," Fleur gave a small wave as she saw her enter, "I was just about to close for the day."

"Hello Fleur, how have you been? I don't want to keep you too long. I am just here to pick up the flowers I ordered."

Finding a new passion as a florist, Fleur decided to open a small flower shop after the war. But she only worked there part-time due to her other obligations at Gringotts. Fleur didn't mind, though. It fit her schedule perfectly.

It's encouraging to see a soul comforted by a flower's splendor and nature. To be happy and uplifted simply by smelling or seeing a beautiful flower. I want to be a part of that. Fleur's words rang in her mind even after so long.

I guess that's why I'm here, to find my upliftment.

Reminded of her nightmare, Hermione couldn't resist asking about Ron.

"We are managing. You know how he's been struggling with the death of poor Arthur and Molly. He still visits them every year, you know," with tears in her eyes, she added, "and Bill too."

He's not the only one.

"No love can come close to the love of a parent; it's an enormous tragedy. Such a terrible loss that they are gone." Hermione gave Fleur's hand a supportive squeeze. Not uttering the guilt she felt for not doing more than she could have.

"We are still going to Avignon tomorrow for my birthday before he returns to work. I know he has been planning this escape for weeks. Even if we are just going for just a couple of days, Quidditch doesn't wait after all." Jokingly rolled her eyes as she mentioned Quidditch. After Hogwarts, Ron pursued his Quidditch dream and became the trainer for the Chudley Cannons. When he received his offer letter per owl, he was ecstatic, the first time he had a genuine smile on his face since the loss of his family.

Quickly Fleur caught herself and looked at the clock. "I'm sorry, Hermione, here I am talking about my dear Ron, and you are here for your loss as well."

Hermione looked back sympathetically and watched the blonde retreat behind a small curtain to retrieve her bouquet. Once she returned, Fleur insisted that there be no charge. Hermione thanked her and wished her a lovely time on her trip. Now she was back in her office and was waiting for her day to end. Neville Longbottom appeared at the threshold, torn out of her thoughts by a knock on her office door. She greeted the wizard with a smile and waved him to enter.

"Hermione thought you'd still be here. A couple of us were heading to the Leaky Cauldron for drinks. Do you want to join? I know how extensive your caseload has been as of late figured a distraction could do you some good."

Neville stopped at her desk.

He wasn't wrong. Her boss had dropped an excessive caseload on her forcing her to bring work with her on the weekends. Besides the usual dull ministry paperwork that she put off until the last minute, a new virus named Vaxa emerged in the wizarding world, one that only affects purebloods with strokes and hallucinations, which eventually leads to death. The first encounter was when Lord Voldemort was still alive, and it had only affected muggles and squibs, but once he died, so did the virus. It was a new terror that made her feel like evil was still lurking in the shadows and hadn't been defeated on the steps of Hogwarts.

"Hi Neville, I appreciate the offer. But this case has me working serious overtime." She slightly picked up the file and dropped it back on her desk. "Maybe next time."

Besides, Professor Snape is waiting.

"Suit yourself. Don't work too hard. We still need you around." He turned to leave, and before he reached the door, Hermione replied, "Enjoy your night and send my regards to Luna."

He raised his hand to wave back to her before closing the door. Knowing she wasn't going to get much work done, she grabbed her flowers and apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

She knew this walk better than she had ever known the pages to "Hogwarts: A History." She knew where the ground settled and rose and where to look out for those tenacious rocks that poked out of the ground waiting for someone to stumble over them. She had walked this route more than she liked before school ended, mainly to accompany Harry when he needed some contemplative time at the steps of Dumbledore's tomb. The spot took on a whole new meaning for her when Headmistress McGonagall allowed a small grave marker to be erected in Draco's honor.

"It's the least we could do for his contribution," she remembered the Headmistress say when they placed the grave in the shady spot by a small clearing.

It still meant the world to Hermione even if Draco wasn't buried there; it had become a place of solace for her.

Over time, a small headstone had sunken into the wet soil and became unbalanced, peering out of the ground in front of her. She knelt down and gently laid the antirrhinums on his grave.

"I miss you."

She glanced at the red cloudy sky above, trying to blink her tears away furiously. "You left me with an emptiness I can't seem to fill without you. I'm so sorry for letting you go back to Malfoy Manor. I should have stopped you - I think about that day every day. There were so many signs, I'm… I'm so sorry."

She dropped her face in her hands, not surprised to feel her palms wet from tears. Placing her fingertips to her lips for a kiss, she moved her hand and gently laid it on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a few moments listening to the small laps of the water coming to the shore of the lake and the crickets performing their nighttime chants. Wiping her face with the hem of her robe, she turned to leave, bowing her head in the direction of her fallen comrades. Amongst the headstones stood an eternal flame erected a few days after the battle. Thanks to Fleur, a striking array of flowers, kissed by the warm glow of the setting sun, made the cold image of a graveyard seem eerily beautiful.

A cool breeze snapped her out of her stance, cutting through her outer robe. Noting the time and the brisk change in temperature, Hermione made her way up the path to Hogwarts.

She rounded the familiar corridor in the dungeons and stopped in front of a heavy oak door with iron handles where she knocked twice and listened for a voice on the opposite side.

"Come in."

She was standing in front of his private office, a place of solitude that she started visiting more often after starting her job at the Ministry. Due to his involvement with the Dark Lord and his understanding of both the Muggle and the wizarding world, she asked for his help shortly after she was assigned the Vaxa case. She was very appreciative that Snape took the time to help her knowing his extensive teaching workload. Although he hadn't always been the nicest teacher, she was grateful for the relationship they were able to form. It was something that made her feel like she still had a father.

During the hunt for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron, she obliviated her parents and gave them new identities to protect them; they currently lived in Australia, not knowing of their shared life with her. It was the hardest decision she had to make during the war due to her strong relationship with her father. She loved her parents, conservative mother, and loving father, but he allowed her to do more and taught her things her mother wouldn't approve of. Her mother always wanted her to look pretty at her garden tea parties with her neighbors, but Hermione would rather eat slugs than join such a tedious venture. She never came home during the spring. She always longed for summer vacation when her father took her on a yearly summer camping trip where he taught her basic survival training skills that she was eternally grateful for when the trio hunted Voldemort's Horcruxes together.

She pushed open the heavy door and was greeted with Professor Snape staring into the flames, leaning against the fireplace's mantle. The sleeves of his white button-up shirt were rolled up, causing the Dark Mark's remaining outline to be illuminated by the flickering flames. In his right hand, he held a half-empty glass, which she was sure, after numerous visits, to be firewhiskey. Hermione paused to look at him for a few seconds before entering, "Good evening, Professor."

He slowly turned to look at her and nodded in the direction of his bar cabinet, where she knew she could find her glass already poured.

They met every other Friday and went over each other's findings, but they always hit a dead end no matter how many test trials or chemical analytics they mused over. Hermione hoped they could come up with something soon, not only for the sake of the wizarding world but also for her boss to stop breathing down her neck at every Monday morning debriefing.

Upon entering, she laid her outer coat on one of the armchairs opposite the mantle and took a sip from her glass, appreciating the amber liquid's warmth as much as the lit fire.

"Please, make yourself at home," Snape commented dryly, noting her discarded coat.

Leaning against the bar cabinet, drink in her right hand, she chuckled. "Don't mind if I do."

He let his arm drop from the mantle and turned to face her with soft but troubled eyes.

"What is the death toll for this week?"

Staring into her glass with her left arm tucked close to her chest," Eight, all clustered in the same village of Ashwell. But it's not as many as the weeks before."

"A life lost is still a life lost."

Her smile faltering, she shuffled her feet, those words cutting deeper than he probably intended.

He placed his drink on the coffee table and moved away from the fire in her direction.

His hands gently holding onto her upper arms, Snape sighed. "It takes as long as it takes. I should know. Be gentle with yourself and forgive."

She locked eyes with his and reluctantly nodded. She knew all too well he was referring to Lily.

"Come, let's discuss your latest findings." He motioned to the two armchairs opposite the fire and talked until the glowing embers struggled to stay alive.

Hermione let her front door slam shut behind her and leaned against it, dropping her bag and coat next to her feet with a 'thump,' the clock on her mantle letting her know that it was well past midnight.

What a day.

She lit her fireplace and walked across her living room to her kitchen, where she poured herself a tall glass of red wine. While taking a sip, she collected her mail from the kitchen counter where she saw, amongst her usual bills, a letter addressed to her in an unfamiliar but elegant hand. The envelope was crafted out of sturdy ivory parchment that spiked her curiosity and made her flip the letter over. There she saw the all too familiar Malfoy seal stamped in red wax. Angrily she threw the note back down on the table and moved through her flat for a well-deserved bath. I have nothing to say to that man.

Much to Hermione's annoyance, Professor Snape was sentenced to one year in Azkaban while Lucius Malfoy did not. Professor Snape could have spared himself by providing his memories as proof, but he generously declined and accepted his fate. Hermione assumed Severus' recluse nature was at fault. Lucius, however, was pardoned under the conditions that confiscation of all Dark Arts trinkets from his home and a two-year house arrest established. Kingsley Shacklebot remained in office at the time, and he wanted the victory to be celebrated with a clean slate for the Ministry of Magic. Between the Dementor's kiss and other inhumane punishments, the Ministry acted out on Kingsley's orders to set an example that 'good behavior can be rewarded.' It annoyed her even more, when her boss assigned her to oversee Lucius' house arrest. The former Death Eater made it an extremely difficult time for her. Constantly reminding Hermione of her blood status, smirking when he saw the fading scar on her inner left arm and noting that she definitely wouldn't be welcome in his home under 'normal circumstances.' She was glad when the wretched two years were up.

The mix of lavender and billowing steam from in the rising bath invaded her senses. She discarded her clothes and settled into the lukewarm water closing her eyes. She was soaking her weary body and trying to absorb as much as she could from Murderous Potions and Practitioners before calling it a night, glad that she didn't have to be at work until Monday. Exhausted, she laid down the book and emptied her glass. While changing into her pajamas, she reminded herself to break her bad habit of leaving kitchenware all over her flat; this included her wine glass. Hermione grabbed it while glancing at the clock on her nightstand, which let her know it was past one in the morning, and wearily walked the short distance down the hall towards the kitchen. The glass, however, slipped from her hand, shattering on the tiled floor at her feet.

The previously lit fire still danced in the grate; the shifting golden light illuminated her living room and the silhouette of a man who was standing next to the leaping flames. Dressed in black, with his hood drawn, a gun in his right hand pointed directly at her.