"Hermione, you're to come with us. Right now."
Before she could protest, Hermione found herself dragged away from where she had been talking to Harry, Draco and Ron about house elf advocacy. She gave an irritated huff, but allowed them to hustle her into an adjoining room.
Millie, who had given the initial order, was the first to speak. "Spill."
She furrowed her brow in confusion. Surely they weren't going to push her for details of her recent experience, not after she'd specifically said she didn't want to talk about it? Besides, why would they all need to drag her away from—?
Oh.
The knut dropped. From the expressions on the faces of the witches who surrounded her, it was clear they wanted to talk about her and Draco.
"There's nothing to spill," she squeaked. Her face heated in embarrassment at being put on the spot.
"Don't give us that, Hermione," Pansy added. She arched a brow and tossed her hair. "The sexual tension between you and Draco is so thick you'd need a Diffindo to cut it."
The rest of the women made noises of agreement.
Hermione sighed in defeat. "Is it really that obvious?" she asked.
"Yes," everyone chorused.
"Okay, fine. But honestly, I don't know what's going on," said Hermione. 'We haven't had a chance to talk about it."
"Well, you need to," said Lavender. "Put yourselves out of your misery and just get on with it."
"We would have talked already if I hadn't been kidnapped," Hermione said, more sharply than she'd intended. "And we probably would have had a go at talking about it by now, only Harry decided it would be a good idea to throw a party to celebrate my return. It would be bad manners if I didn't make an appearance."
"To hell with manners," Millie declared. "You don't need to stick around on our account. Grab that wizard and go! And to be fair, Harry only offered to throw the party to convince us to go home. He's not entirely to blame."
"Exactly. Go! We'll deal with the boys," Lavender added. "Besides, once they've had a few more drinks, they'll be more interested in having stupid pissing contests than acknowledging the guest of honour."
"Yes, like drunken broom races," Parvati snorted.
"Daring each other to do stupid things like jump off a roof," added Padma.
"Or competing to see who has the biggest Patronus," Katie said. "And yes, that can be taken more than one way."
"You and Draco share a very powerful energy," Luna piped up. "It's not something that happens very often. There's something about the two of you — almost as if the bond you have has existed for some time. Are you sure you've never had a romantic moment with him before, Hermione?"
Hermione shook her head. "No — well, not before Theo's."
"Wait, what happened at Theo's?" Lavender asked.
"Oh. Well, a few days before I was kidnapped, Theo hosted some of the Slytherins who had come back for the hearing, and I was invited to join them," Hermione explained. "We had this…moment. An almost-kiss. We'd intended to talk about it after the madness of the hearing's commencement had died down. I think that was the first time we both realised what we felt for each other wasn't just platonic."
Even as she spoke, however, Hermione knew deep down that her statement wasn't entirely accurate. She'd noticed her feelings for Draco before that almost-kiss, but had up until that point tried to deny it to herself. Truthfully, it went further than that. Luna's observation was unnervingly astute — at least, in the sense that, on more than one occasion, Hermione had been struck with a feeling of familiarity that didn't make any sense. She hadn't experienced any romantic moments with Draco before they reconnected — she'd remember if she had.
So why did the feeling in her gut tell her there was something more, something buried in her psyche, waiting to be unlocked?
"You had an almost-kiss with him and didn't tell us?" Lavender exclaimed. "How could you keep that juicy detail to yourself after everything we've been through? I feel so betrayed!" She put a hand to her heart in a dramatic fashion and pouted, pretending to be distraught.
"You know perfectly well I'm not one for gossip, Lav. And besides, with everything—" She stopped when she realised Lavender was grinning at the reaction she'd invoked. Hermione huffed in mock exasperation.
"Well, at any rate, we do plan to talk. Actually—" she stopped.
Did she really want to go ahead and tell them Draco planned to take her away for a proper break? She knew exactly what direction the conversation would go in if she said anything, and she wasn't sure she was comfortable talking to them about ... that… so casually. To be honest, she hadn't even thought about the possibility she and Draco might do more than just talk, not until now.
Images, racy ones, flooded her mind. The sudden arousal that came with the images caused her to blush.
"Actually, what? C'mon, you have to tell us now," Katie said. "You've gone bright red, Hermione. You've got something planned, don't you?"
Hermione sighed. There was no avoiding the subject now. "Draco offered to take me away to relax. The healer I saw told me I needed to get some proper rest, and Draco insisted I let him take me somewhere so I don't try to work or overexert myself."
Excited sounds followed this revelation. "Where is he taking you, and what are you wearing?" Pansy demanded.
"I don't know, and I hadn't thought that far ahead," Hermione replied.
"Well, that won't do at all. Knowing Draco, it'll be somewhere exceptional, so you'll need appropriate outfits," Pansy said. "And lingerie too, of course."
Hermione felt herself going red again. "Really, there's no need. I'm sure what I have at home will be perfectly suitable—"
"Absolutely not!" Pansy interrupted. "Lucille!"
An elf popped into the room. "Yes, Mistress? You calls for Lucille?"
"Hermione needs outfits. An evening gown, daywear, a bathing suit—Will Draco be taking you somewhere magical or Muggle, I wonder?—better include some formal robes too, Lucille, just in case. Shoes, accessories, and don't forget matching lingerie to go with everything. Enough for two nights, and if Hermione and Draco are away for longer than that, you can exchange the items she starts with for new ones."
"Pansy—" Hermione knew she meant well, but honestly, Pansy could be very…intense. Bossy and extroverted, it was clear that she was both accustomed to and completely unbothered by railroading people into giving in to her demands.
"Cool it, Pans," Millie warned. "Let her pick her own clothes. I'm sure she's perfectly capable."
Pansy pouted and turned to Hermione. "Do you feel this way, too?"
Hermione felt simultaneously grateful for Millie's intervention, and guilty for disappointing Pansy. She couldn't possibly accept everything Pansy was trying to foist on her, but she also didn't want to offend or hurt Pansy's feelings by refusing outright.
"I really don't think I'll need everything you suggested, but if you do have a dress I could wear to dinner, I'd be grateful. Something formal, but not too formal — I don't imagine we'll be attending any galas."
"You never know," Pansy said. "But if you insist, semi-formal it is. Of course, you'll still need everything to go with it."
Hermione knew it would be easier not to try and negotiate any further. "Thank you, Pansy."
Pansy smiled back — a rare expression. "You're more than welcome. Now, come on — let's get the two of you on your way." She turned to Lucille, who was still present, awaiting new orders. "A dress suitable for dinner, and everything to go with it. When Hermione and Draco arrive at their destination, place it in their room."
Lucille bowed. "Yes Mistress." She disappeared with a small pop, and everyone turned back to Hermione.
"So… how long has it been?" Katie asked.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Hermione did know, but she wasn't about to be interrogated on her sex life (or lack thereof). Not now, and probably not later, either.
"Oh, come on," Katie wheedled. "Tell us!"
Hermione turned to Ginny, who hadn't spoken a word the whole time but would surely support her. Alas, she found no such solidarity. Instead, Ginny was smirking wickedly.
"I know more about that subject than anyone here. There's not much for her to tell."
"Ginny!"
Ginny shrugged. "Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I just hope you haven't forgotten your way around a wizard's body."
Hermione pulled out her wand. "Don't make me hit you with your signature spell, Ginevra. I'll do it!"
"All right, all right," Ginny said good-naturedly. She held up her hands in defeat. "Ladies, leave Hermione alone. We should get back, anyway. The lads will be wondering where we've got to."
When they rejoined the others, they discovered the food had finally arrived. Hermione's stomach growled in response to the delicious smells wafting around the room. As much as she wanted to slip away, she was absolutely not leaving without eating something first.
Tippy appeared before Hermione, bearing a plate practically overflowing with sandwiches, sausage rolls and tiny meat pies. "You must eat, Miss Hermione. Yous will be quite hungry, Tippy expects."
Hermione smiled gratefully and took the plate. "I'm starving — thank you, Tippy."
The elf bowed and then turned his attention to Hermione's friends, summoning plates of food for everyone who wasn't yet eating. Hermione momentarily forgot her impending getaway with Draco and all it might entrail in favour of quelling her appetite. She hummed in appreciation as she ate. It felt like it had been ages since she'd eaten anything decent, and all too soon, her plate was empty.
Replete, she looked around for Draco and spotted him in a corner, talking to Fred and George. It all looked very serious, judging by their expressions and the way they were huddled together, and she hoped everything was all right.
He looked up, saw her, and smiled. Fred and George followed Draco's gaze, then turned back to him. They both clapped him on the shoulder, and Draco nodded at something George said. The twins wandered off, and Draco made his way across the room to Hermione.
"Hi," he said. Oddly, he looked a bit nervous.
"Hi," she replied cautiously. "What was that all about just now?"
"I've made a reservation for us. I think you'll like it. I hope you'll like it. But, um—" Draco took a breath, looked down at his hands, then looked back up at her, his expression serious. "Before we go, we need to meet Fred and George at Wheezes. There's something I — well, they — well, we — need to show you."
Hermione felt anxiousness flare in her chest. Scenarios, none of them good, filled her mind. She clenched her hands, trying to quell the feeling of inevitability. "Draco, what's going on?"
"It's… easier if I explain later. If you see for yourself," he said. "I assure you, it's not bad. It's…"
He closed his eyes, as if trying to draw strength. Given his body language, his words did nothing to reassure her. "It's just a long story. One I only learned myself not long ago. But if you're as confused about… us… as much as I was, it will all make sense soon."
She felt even more confused, and no less anxious. Whatever it was, it was clearly significant. Maybe life-changing. Certainly, whatever she was about to learn would shock her.
"Can we go now?" she said. "I think I'd rather find out whatever it is as soon as possible. Thinking about it is going to drive me to distraction, otherwise."
Draco bit his lip and nodded. Clearly, he was just as anxious as she was. "Of course."
He turned and scanned the room, looking for the twins. Hermione looked too, and was further discomfited to realise Fred and George had been watching her and Draco. Something passed between them, and Fred gave an imperceptible nod. George reached into a pocket, and the next moment there was a loud bang that startled everyone in the room, followed by a small yet colourful display of the twins' indoor fireworks.
While everyone was distracted, Draco led Hermione around the outside of the room. They slipped out the door leading to the corridor and headed towards the entranceway.
"Shouldn't we say goodbye first?" Hermione asked. "It feels rude to leave without telling anyone."
"They'll only make a big deal of it if you draw attention to yourselves," said a voice behind her. She turned to see Fred and George, coats under their arms. They must have slipped out at the same time as she and Draco.
"This way, we can all get away without twenty questions and all the teasing holding you up," said George. "Besides, what's the point of us causing a distraction if you go and shine the spotlight back in your direction?"
Hermione still felt guilty leaving unannounced, but she had to admit the twins' logic was sound. "All right. Let's go."
They all stopped out onto the street. Draco took Hermione's hand. "Side-along?" he asked.
She nodded. "Sure."
The pull of side-along Apparition, somehow, was less uncomfortable than it normally was. Perhaps that was down to her trust in Draco? Or perhaps she was just becoming accustomed to it.
They landed in the back room of Wheezes. Fred gestured for her to follow him and George upstairs. The feeling of foreboding Hermione felt persisted, made worse by the fact no one was saying anything.
How bad was it going to be? What were they going to spring on her? But… What if it wasn't all bad? Draco had assured her it wouldn't be, and that in fact the revelation would explain some things that had hitherto not made sense. Still, having no idea what she was in for was driving her mad.
On the landing, Fred disappeared into a side door while George led her and Draco through to the twins' flat.
"Sit down, and I'll make tea," George said.
Hermione did as she was asked. She took a breath, trying to stay calm. She was probably overthinking things, she reasoned. Not knowing was the worst part, the time when the mind concocted all manner of wild theories and suppositions to fill the gaps in one's knowledge of the facts. Whatever it was, she surely would have heard worse news before.
"Hermione."
She turned to Draco. Her whole body was tense with nervous anticipation, and she could feel it in her shoulders and neck as she looked at him.
"It's really not something bad. I promise. But it'll be a lot to take in. It was a lot for me to take in, as well. We — that is, myself and Fred and George — wanted to tell you earlier. But when I found out, it was only a few days before the first hearing and we didn't want to distract you. I'd planned to bring you here after the first day, but with you being taken—"
He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled in a shaky breath, then opened them and took her hands. "I was worried something would happen to you before I could talk to you about how I really felt, and why I felt such a strong connection to you. And you... You felt it too, right? A sense of something half-remembered, a sort of—"
"—familiarity that I couldn't explain? Yes," Hermione said. "But what's all this got to do with—"
It clicked, then. The way Draco had worded it - 'something half-remembered' - made her realise what she perhaps should have seen all along.
"Were my memories modified? When? By whom?"
At that moment, Fred entered with a box in his hands, while a Pensieve floating along behind him.
George put a cup of tea down in front of her, but she barely noticed as she watched Fred place the box on the table and open it. Inside were rows of memories in vials, each one neatly labelled. She withdrew one and read the description. Fred - December 1995 - alcove, third floor.
"What has this got to do with Draco and I?"
Fred joined them at the table and took his own cup of tea from George. "In your late fifth year and early sixth, Draco here secretly fed us information about Voldemort's movements."
Hermione wasn't sure she understood what Fred was saying. She looked from him, to George, to Draco. "When you say, 'us' you mean—?"
"Me and George, at first. Then you, as well," Fred replied. "You knew something was up, and cornered us one night in the common room. Made us tell you what was going on. We agreed to share because we knew you'd keep Draco's secret — and besides, we knew we could certainly do with your brains."
She listened in amazement as Fred and George filled her in on the events that had led to Draco, and eventually her, being Obliviated.
"The memories explain everything," George said. He indicated the box. "You know how to use a Pensive?"
"Of course."
She returned the memory she'd been holding to its place and pulled the box closer, so she could read the labels on the other vials. If she started from the top left corner, they appeared to be chronological. There were ten in all.
"I suppose I'd better get started."
"We'll be right here," Draco said. "Take as much time as you need to go through them."
Hermione plucked the first one from its holder and read the label again. George - November 1995 - Under Quidditch stands. She drew the Pensive towards herself, uncorked the vial, and then poured its contents into the bowl.
She was under the Quidditch stands. Just in front of her were two figures with their backs to her. She'd recognise them anywhere. It was Fred and George, and they were talking to someone — actually, it sounded more like they were threatening them. Hermione moved closer, and when she'd manoeuvred her way around the twins, she was unsurprised to see the person they had cornered was Draco.
"What're you playing at, Malfoy? Sneaking around, spying on people? Want to be like dear old Daddy, do you? A filthy, corrupt excuse for a wizard, who kisses the arse of a madman?"
The sight of this memory-Draco, younger and still boyish, caused a cold chill to run down her spine. This wasn't the Draco she knew now — she was seeing the version that had been cruel, arrogant and bigoted, the one who swaggered around Hogwarts as if he ruled it.
But this version of that boy didn't look arrogant, or confident. He looked frightened.
"Let me go, you filthy blood traitors! You don't know what's coming, you have no idea! No one does!"
Hermione frowned. The label had said November 1995. At that point, Voldemort had been back for several months. Had Draco been exposed to him even then? She knew most of his story, of course, but she didn't recall him ever mentioning the first time he was brought before Voldemort.
"...No one has any idea what's coming. He's back, he's back and he's nothing like I imagined. He's been in my house, and when he looks at me, it's like he's looking right into me. He wants me to join him, and there's nothing I can do about it."
She felt ill, and her heart hurt for what Draco must have been going through even then. To have been forced to carry that knowledge with him amid the paralysing terror that if he told anyone, he and his parents' lives would be forfeit, would be…
"Inconceivable," Hermione murmured to herself. "Unconscionable."
She watched the memory-Draco flee, his face contorted in anguish, then turned back to the memory version of Fred and George to observe their reactions.
"I almost feel sorry for the nasty, spoiled little shit, Gred."
"As do I, Forge. As do I."
"What are we going to do about it, then? He actually seemed more scared of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than getting an arse-kicking from us."
"I'd be shitting myself too, if the ugly bastard wanted to play with me."
"D'you think we should try and help him?"
"Maybe. Or at the very least, try and find out more about what old Voldy's up to."
The memory swirled around her as it ended, and she braced herself as she was pulled from the scene.
"Hermione — are you all right?"
She swiped angrily at her face, then accepted the box of tissues Fred held out to her.
"No, Draco, I am not all right! How soon after Voldemort returned were you forced to meet him?"
Draco's face fell as he recalled that time in his life. "Not long after he got his body back. Over the summer break."
"Why did you never tell anyone? If you'd said that at the trials…"
He sighed harshly. "It wouldn't have made any difference, Hermione. At that point, they were all convinced I'd been a supporter all along. My telling them how early I got dragged into the whole mess and the effect it had on me? They wouldn't have so much as blinked."
Hermione was forced to admit he was probably right. She glanced uneasily at the box, not wanting to watch the next memory but knowing she must.
"Are they all… like that? Painful?"
"No. Not all," Draco said. He tried to offer her a reassuring smile. "A few are… well, not happy, exactly. But there was a small sliver of hope, for a while."
She exhaled. "Okay." The next memory was the following month, the one in the alcove. Hermione poured the memory into the water.
Making her way through the memories was incredibly draining, but at the same time, enlightening. She watched through the eyes of Draco, Fred and George as the bond between herself and Draco grew.
She had reached the second to last memory. When she withdrew it, she read the label. Draco - Wheezes - April 1996. The end of the tale was coming, and she sensed it was going to hit hard. There was no point delaying the inevitable — better to get it over and done with now, then process it all later.
She watched as the memory versions of herself and Draco snuggled together on a sofa. She recognised it as the one in the twins' flat. Of the twins themselves, there was no sign. The memory-couple weren't saying much, but from the way they clung to each other, Hermione deduced they both knew, even then, that inevitability was creeping up on them.
After a few moments, the memory-Draco spoke. His voice was soft and gentle, more like the version of Draco she knew now. Even his expression was different. No longer did he sneer, or look like there was a bad smell hovering under his nose that he couldn't escape. He looked melancholy, even as he clung tightly to memory-Hermione.
"This is the happiest I've ever been, you know," memory-Draco said. "When I'm here, in the flat with you, I can almost forget what's waiting for me at home and at school. I love not having to pretend. I don't even know who I am any more."
Memory-Hermione pulled memory-Draco closer and smoothed a hand through his hair. "I know. But I can tell you who you are." Memory-Hermione sat up so she could look him in the eyes. "You are more than just Draco Malfoy. You're a strong, good man who's been placed in an impossible situation. Draco, if you'd just let the Order help you—"
Memory-Draco pulled away, his expression morphing into a grimace. "No! How many times, Hermione—! You know I can't, it's too dangerous. And besides, it's too late for me now. Things have gone past the point of no return."
Memory-Hermione looked frightened. "What do you mean, Draco? What does he want you to do?"
"It's not just what he wants me to do. I've got a mission, yes, but… It's… what he's going to do to me."
"What he's going to—?" Memory-Hermione's eyes widened, and she shook her head in negation. "No. No, he can't. Draco, tell me it's not—"
Memory Draco sighed harshly. "I'm to be Marked, Hermione. He's given the order. I'll be branded within the month."
Hermione watched as the memory version of herself paled, then bolted from the room. Shortly afterwards, she could hear the sounds of retching. Memory-Draco looked like he wanted to vomit, too. He dropped his head into his hands and made a small sound of anguish. It was a hopeless sound, and drove a shard of ice through Hermione's heart.
When memory-Hermione returned, she was trembling. Slowly, she returned to the sofa and sat down, then reached for memory-Draco's hands. "What is he doing to make you do?"
Memory-Draco closed his eyes. A lone tear escaped from beneath his eyelashes. He breathed out, then opened his eyes again. "After I repair the Vanishing Cabinet, I'm to kill Albus Dumbledore."
Hermione emerged from the memory with her stomach churning. The tea, and the food she'd eaten at Grimmauld, were threatening to make a reappearance.
"Have you an anti-nausea potion?" she asked Fred, weakly. He nodded and summoned a vial, then passed it to her.
She took it with a grimace, then uncorked and swallowed the contents. Shortly after, her stomach began to settle, and she sighed with relief.
"Are you all right to keep going?" Draco asked her.
He was worried, she could tell. But she was close to the end. She'd never given up just because something was hard or distressing before, and she wouldn't start now.
"I can keep going. I think I know what I'll see in this one."
Hermione lifted the last vial and examined the label, written in her own tidy script. Hermione - Myrtle's bathroom - April, 1996. It must have happened quite soon after Draco's final memory. Which meant that in the same place, probably only a few weeks later, Harry had attacked Draco and almost killed him with the Sectumsempra spell.
She shuddered.
"Here goes."
Hermione entered her memory, dreading what she was about to see.
Her memory-self was in the shadows, watching as Memory-Draco broke down in Myrtle's bathroom. His shoulders heaved as he sobbed, great, braying noises of deep pain that brought tears to her own eyes. Myrtle, the wretch, was actually trying to flirt with memory-Draco as she pretended to comfort him. Hermione snorted. She'd never known such a boy-mad ghost.
The shadows moved as her memory-self stepped forward. Memory-Draco whirled around as he caught her movement in the mirror. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he realised who it was. Memory-Hermione advanced further and gave Myrtle a look of warning.
"I've got this. Give us some privacy, if you please."
Myrtle pouted. "It's my bathroom. You can't tell me what to—!"
"Now, Myrtle."
With a huff, the ghost vanished, and memory-Hermione returned her attention to the distraught, desperate boy before her.
"Draco, this can't go on."
"Hermione…I know… you have to help me, please! I can't do it any more, I… I can't! Everything's moving too fast!" Memory-Draco stumbled forward and clutched desperately at memory-Hermione, as if he were drowning and she was the only thing holding him up.
"Draco, you need to let the Order get you to safety! They can get your mum out too, you just have to come and see Dumbledore. Come, we'll do it together, I'll stand with you—"
"No!" Memory-Draco wrenched himself away, his face contorting in anger. "I can't, you know I can't! It's too dangerous, the task he's set for me, I can't escape it! And besides, I still love my father! I won't abandon him, and neither would Mother! I've told you this, why won't you listen?"
It was heartbreaking to watch. Hermione observed the interaction between the two memory-people, both of them trapped by an inevitability they both knew was coming — warring between their feelings, and what they knew was right. What they knew they would be forced to sacrifice, in order to protect their loved ones and each other.
At the same time, she felt a flare of rage so strong she felt the memory shimmer around her. Voldemort had done this. He had destroyed something beautiful, something good. He had destroyed a lot of things. Hermione wished he was still alive and weakened, all his Horcruxes vanquished, so she could kill him all over again — slowly and painfully.
Memory-Draco's mouth worked as he tried to speak his next words. Hermione clenched her fists, feeling her heart begin to race. This was it. This would be the moment he asked her to do the impossible.
"Please, Hermione… I know I have no right to ask you to perform magic like this, but I must. Obliviate me. Wipe every memory I have of you, of the Order, of Fred and George."
Tears were rolling down memory-Hermione's face, now. "Draco, I can't. I can't do that to you."
"Hermione. Please. If anyone can do this spell properly, you can." memory-Draco was on his knees now, clutching the younger Hermione's hands.
She closed her eyes. Bit her lip. More tears escaped from between tightly squeezed lids. Finally, she nodded.
Memory-Draco leapt to his feet and embraced her tightly. "Thank you, thank you. I'm forever in your debt."
"And conveniently, you won't remember that," memory-Hermione snorted through her tears.
She took a few steps away from him and pushed her shoulders back. "Are you ready?"
"Yes. And Hermione?"
"Yes, Draco?"
"I love you."
A sob.
"I love you, too." She lifted her wand.
"Obliviate."
When she emerged from the final memory, Fred had the tissues ready. George passed her a cup of tea.
"Drink it," he urged. "It'll help."
She took a sip and coughed. "Merlin, George — how much Firewhisky is in this?"
"Just a splash," George said.
"By splash, he means it's about half tea, half whisky," Draco interjected. "He did it to me at the end, as well."
"Thanks, George," she spluttered, wiping her streaming eyes.
When she could see again, she turned to Draco and reached out to touch his cheek. "So all this time… we were experiencing repressed echoes of our past memories."
He captured her hand in his own, brought it to his lips, and kissed her palm. "Yes."
"But how…" she frowned. "Obliviation, done correctly… shouldn't it have prevented us from ever experiencing those echoes in the first place?"
"Not a lot is known about how permanent Obliviation really is," Draco said. "You're correct that when applied effectively, the memory should in theory be wiped from the person's mind forever. But if a strong emotion, or even an event, sparks something… well, who knows? Perhaps it's enough to counter the spell, at least partially. Perhaps the memories aren't gone completely, but just deeply buried in one's mind, locked up tight."
"Maybe."
She thought of her own parents, still living in Australia, blissfully aware their real name was Granger and that they had a daughter. She'd been afraid to go and find them, afraid to try and reverse the spell, because she was afraid it would not work. But maybe it would. Maybe there was hope… she couldn't think of that now. She would have to come back to it later. There were too many other things on her mind, too many things to say to Draco — to talk to him about.
"You said you made a reservation for us?"
He smiled. "I did."
"Can we go now? I think we have a lot to process and discuss."
"Absolutely."
She and Draco stood, him helping her to her feet. Between the exertion of watching so many emotionally charmed memories, and the Firewhisky, her legs were slightly unsteady. She was glad for his assistance.
"Fred, George — thank you. I have so many more questions for you both, but they'll have to wait."
Hermione reached out and touched the box of memories. "Thank you for keeping these safe. I have the feeling they might come in useful." She looked at Draco, looking for his confirmation.
He nodded. "Yes, I think they will."
Fred and George stood, too. "You're welcome. It's been our pleasure to see the two of you find your way back to each other," George said.
"Now, off you trot. Have fun, and don't hurry back," Fred added with a wink. "It's time you two got to know each other properly."
Hermione felt her face grow warm at his insinuation. "Fred Weasley!"
"What? Nothing wrong with two adults enjoying each other's company," Fred replied, not affected in the least by her admonishment.
Draco cleared his throat, clearly as embarrassed as she was. "Right. Well, let me echo my thanks. You're great friends, you know. Some of the best."
"Course we are," grinned George.
"Shall we go, Hermione?"
She smiled up at him. "Yes, let's."
Once they were standing in the alley behind the shop, Draco offered her his arm, and she took it without hesitation. "I hope you'll like where we're going."
"I'm sure I will."
They landed in a deserted lane behind some tall buildings. Draco led her along the narrow road, and they soon emerged onto a busy street. He gave Hermione a moment to get her bearings, then indicated their destination with a sweep of his arm.
She glanced that way and gasped in surprise and delight.