A/N: Another long delay. Sorry my friends, hopefully you haven't lost interest. I can't promise I'll update as quick as I first did, but I am continuing with this story.

Thanks for reading!


The sun from skylight warmed Hermione's cheeks, causing her to gently stir. As she woke she smelled bacon and coffee, bringing a faint smile to her face. She lazily stretched her body, remembering that she was not in her own bed or even at home for that matter, and more than that, she wasn't alone. She was in Switzerland... with Harry.

Memories of the evening before rushed through her, sending butterflies fluttering to her stomach. Had last night been twenty years in the making, or was it another horrible mistake?

Pushing aside her urge to bolt, Hermione slipped on an oversized jumper before stepping out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Her heart thudded against her chest as she approached the kitchen, but she relaxed slightly when she saw Harry sitting at the small breakfast nook where he was lazily flipping through some documents.

"Hey," he smiled, sipping on a coffee as he glanced up from his paperwork.

"Hey," Hermione said, cautiously standing in the entry to the kitchen. She unconsciously crossed her arms and held them close to her chest.

"Come and sit down," he said as he quickly stood and hurried towards the oven. "I've made breakfast."

Hermione slowly sat in the chair across from where Harry had been as he pulled out several dishes from the oven and placed them in front of her. He stretched to grab the coffee pot across the counter and then sat back down in his previous seat.

"I didn't want anything to get cold," he said as he poured her a cup of a local blonde brew he'd found in the cupboard.

Hermione mused to herself how much Harry had changed over the years. In his twenties he'd never been much of a cook, often burning dishes he'd attempt. However, years of Ginny traveling with the Harpies had led to him preparing many meals for his children. Eventually he'd picked up a few basic skills to throw together a decent meal.

"How long have you been awake?" Hermione asked, her body livening in the anticipation of caffeine. She wrapped her hands around the mug in front of her.

"For a few hours," Harry replied casually. "I had to pop into the office this morning and then I ran to the store to pick up a few things."

Hermione nodded before take a deep breath, preparing herself before asking what she knew she needed to. As casually as possible, she broached the subject.

"Where does Ginny think you were last night?"

Harry faltered for a moment and adjusted his glasses. He laughed slightly, almost to himself.

"I guess we're diving right in, aren't we?" He offered a half smile, and scratched the back of his head with his hand. "I told her I was away for work."

Hermione had known the answer before she'd even asked, but after hearing him say it, reality crashed down on her.

"Harry..."

"Well what did you expect me to tell her?"

Hermione could sense his shame, but only in the slightest, and her own guilt was soaking in fast.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Even though I - " she flushed as she struggled momentarily for the right word, "enjoyed last night, it does mean it was a good idea. Technically you cheated Harry, and I cheated with you."

"I know," Harry replied with a small sigh.

Hermione starred at her coffee, feeling uneasy about what they'd gotten themselves into. Again.

"I don't know where we go from here," she said softly.

"Neither do I."

What they'd done had been incredibly stupid, and it certainly wasn't like before. They couldn't just pretend it didn't happen.

A beat passed, and just as Hermione was going to tell Harry he should probably go, he abruptly spoke.

"Ginny slept with Dean Thomas."

His voice was emotionless and calm. It took Hermione by surprise for a second before her expression turned to sympathy.

"I know. She told me."

Harry raised an eyebrow curiously.

"When?"

"At Rose's party," Hermione replied with a frown. "She was beating herself up about it terribly. She feels awful."

Harry seemed to consider this for moment before his eyes darkened. He stared down at the table.

"And she should. For weeks she's constantly reminded me how close I'd come to tearing our family apart... and then she goes and gets drunk and shags her ex-boyfriend," Harry shook his head.

Hermione felt her stomach churn as she heard the anger in his voice.

"Is that what last night was about?" She asked quietly, hoping to mask her hurt. "Evening the score with Ginny?"

"What? No!" Harry replied hastily with wide eyes, and then he began furiously shaking his head. "Absolutely not."

Hermione gave him a pointed look before frowning. She wasn't sure what to believe.

Harry looked at his watch and sighed as he rose to his feet.

"Look, I told Kingsley I'd brief him around ten," he began. "I have to go, but I want to come back this evening." Hermione hesitated and Harry quickly clarified. "Just to talk."

"Harry..."

"Please," he said, his green eyes wide with desperation. "I don't want another 20 years to go by."

Hermione bit her top lip, considering whether she should agree. She didn't want to risk another lapse in judgement, but more than anything she wanted to see him again.

"Okay," she nodded in approval. "Just to talk."

...

"So this is the famous Malfoy Manor?"

Rose stepped into the partially carpeted stone entrance, Scorpius at her side. She looked around the dimly lit wide foyer, the walls covered with pale-faced paintings of deceased Malfoy elites. Despite the grandiosity, it was apparent that the Manor wasn't well looked after. Cobwebs covered most of them, and they were in dire need of a good dusting.

"In all its glory," Scorpius replied dryly.

Despite his tough facade, Rose could sense his tension, and it dawned on her how much he really must hate this place. She was glad that staying with her grandparents gave her the freedom to easily sneak away. He needed a friend.

"I was worried I wouldn't get to see you for the rest of the summer," she told him.

"Me too," Scorpius replied, and then with a shy smile added," "especially with our parents colluding."

Rose looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Seems as though your mum must have talked to Father. He had a very serious talk with me... about respecting girls..." Scorpius began, his eyes drifting to his shoes. "He very bluntly told me that if I knocked up the Minister's daughter there wouldn't be a place for me to hide in all of England."

Rose's jaw dropped, and she felt heat rush over her.

"You're joking..."

"I wish," he laughed lightly. "He said Auror Potter and his Weasel side kick would track me down for what would likely be the worst beating of my life."

"Scorp, I'm so sorry," Rose said with a cringe. "I didn't think Mum would talk to him."

"It's fine," Scorpius waved her off. "Just thought you'd want to know it seems your mum hasn't quite cooled down."

"You don't have to tell me," she said, and then wanting to change the subject, asked, "So where does the tour start?"

"This way my lady."

Scorpius led her all throughout the three floors of the mansion, pointing out the odd dark artifact accompanied by several short history lessons he rattled off to her monotonously. He showed her the kitchen, and the tiny adjacent cupboard where house elves used lived. He showed her the nine large bedrooms on the third floor, and allowed her to peak her head into the master bedroom where Lucius and Narcissa slept. He showed her his grandfather's study and family library, both scattered with old books and emitting a musty smell.

Rose found it all very interesting. She'd never been in a old pure blood home before, and she was surprised how much tradition still remained. It was like a mini-Hogwarts, full of secrets and surprises. That is, an evil mini-Hogwarts. It was evident that the Manor was a dark place.

Rose and Scorpius arrived back on the main floor, headed back towards the kitchen when Rose stopped in her tracks looking towards the right. She crinkled her nose, puzzled. There was one hallway he had not taken her through.

Realizing she was no longer following him, Scorpius looked back at her questioningly.

"What's down there?" She asked.

"That leads to the drawing room," Scorpius answered, and then after a curious look from Rose, he reluctantly added, "it's where the Death Eaters used to hold meetings during the war."

Rose's interest was peaked. She remembered the conversation she'd had with Dominique earlier in the summer. Her parents had been at Malfoy Manor, and perhaps even in that room. Whatever it was that transpired had been bad enough for her dad to lie to her. She needed to know what it looked like.

"Can I see?"

Scorpius hesitated for a moment before meekly answering. "Sure."

Scorpius led her down the dark hallway through a pair of closed oak double doors. Rose took a few steps into the room, allowing her eyes to roam.

The dark purple room was mostly empty, with the exception of a long table accompanied by a dozen chairs. At the very end of the room was a marble fireplace with a elegant mirror mounted overtop it. The ceiling was high and held two crystal chandeliers spaced out evenly. It wasn't dusty like the rest of the house, but it was just as dreary.

"What's that?" She pointed to a large stain near the middle of the wooden floor.

"Blood," Scorpius answered quietly. "Great Aunt Belatrix liked to play with her prisoners before she killed them. Blood spilled using the Cruciatus Curse can never be cleaned. My grandparents have had many wizards try."

Rose's eye widen. She'd never known of anyone who had actually used the Cruciatus Curse. She'd learned in her History of Magic class that unforgivable curses had been used during both the wars, but she hadn't ever given it much thought. She imagined their were no survivors after the infamous Belatrix was done with them.

She felt a shiver run down her spine, and she wasn't sure if it was from a cool draft or from the eerie feeling she had from the room.

"Who'd she torture?" Rose asked, turning to look at Scorpius.

He shifted uncomfortably, appearing paler than usual.

"I don't know. Father never talks about the war."

"Neither do my parents." Rose paused in thought for a moment. "Do you think they were all in here at the same time?" She asked curiously, taking a step forward towards the blood stain. "My parents, Uncle Harry, and your dad?"

Scorpius furrowed his brow, considering the possibility.

"I reckon it could have happened," he said with a shrug. "I know Father was here for sure when Riddle held meetings, and he must have seen some pretty horrible things. He avoids coming in here at all costs. I do too. It gives me the creeps."

"I can see why."

Rose's eyes remained glued to the large stain. It was bright, not dark like dried blood normally looked. Fresh, as if it had just been moments ago that Belatrix had earned her latest victim.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

...

Hermione had spent the day on the long wooden dock that extended out into the still water of the lake. She'd plopped down a chair to read Fitzgerald, only breaking her concentration briefly for lunch. She had needed a distraction, and literature, especially muggle literature, had always been her escape.

In the early evening she found herself anxious as she sat with a cup of tea, waiting for Harry's return. It was around eight when she heard the fire crack followed by his appearance in the sitting room.

"Hey," he said with a crooked smile. He wiped the soot off his shirt and stepped out of the fire place. "Did you have a nice day?"

"I did. I spent it doing a bit of reading," Hermione replied, her voice a bit higher than usual. "How was yours?"

"Rather uneventful," Harry answered with a shrug, taking a few steps towards her and dropping his briefcase on the ground.

"Well that's good," she commented lamely, unsure of what to say or where to begin.

"I suppose," Harry nodded, his eyes drifting towards the kitchen. "Would it be alright if we had a drink?"

"Sure," Hermione replied, though she did have some reservations with adding alcohol to their situation.

She was about to make her way over to the bar, but Harry was a few beats faster than her. She heard him tinkering with a few bottles followed by the sound of ice falling into a glass. When he returned he handed her a glass and then sat down on the sofa across from her.

Hermione brought her drink to her lips, and the harsh taste of goblin's gin jolted her.

"Oh my god," she said, her eyes squinting and her lips puckering. "I'll have to sip it slow since I really don't fancy spending the early hours of the morning sleeping near the toilet."

"I thought we could use something strong," Harry said with a faint smile.

"Strong is an understatement," she said, bringing the glass near nose. "This could remove paint from the walls."

A brief awkward silence fell over the pair, as Hermione wracked her brain for something else to say.

"Do you plan on playing Fantasy Quidditch again this year?"

Harry looked at her curiously, and Hermione felt her cheeks redden. Really? That's what she asked him?

"I'd like to skip over the uncomfortable small talk and just get to it," he said, his eyes intensely locking with hers. "That work for you?"

"Yes, alright," Hermione agreed, feeling her heart thud against her chest.

"You seemed to be rather concerned about Ginny this morning, but I recall you didn't have much to say about Ron," Harry said questioningly. "Care to explain?"

"He wants to see other people during the separation," Hermione replied, doing her best to appear nonchalant about her estranged husband. "He shouldn't be concerned with anyone I spend my time with."

Harry gave her a pointed look.

"You and I both know he'd be furious if he found out about last night."

Furious was likely an understatement, Hermione thought to herself.

"You're perfectly right but I suppose I'm not worried what Ron thinks because I don't care, or at least I'm trying not too," she confessed. "Ron's opinion on my personal life stopped mattering when he chose to walk out our front door."

"Do you still love him?" Harry asked seriously.

"You know I do," she replied quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes, but are you in love with him?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know."

It was an honest answer. Hermione wasn't sure what it was she felt for Ron. Even though he'd hurt her bad, that didn't erase the two decades and the life they'd built together.

"Okay... so you love him... but you want me?"

Hermione's ears perked up.

"What?"

Harry's green eyes stared intensely at her, swirling with lust and desire.

"Last night," he said slowly. "You said you want me?"

Hermione blushed with embarrassment. remembering how bold she'd been.

"Really Harry, I thought that much were obvious considerIng the event that followed," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I just... it caught me by surprise," Harry scratched the back of his head.

"You and me both," Hermione mumbled, her cheeks still warm.

"I... I want you too."

"You do?"

"I never really left the Forest of Dean behind. As much as I was in love with Ginny, I felt a pull towards you. It scared me. When you told me you wanted to erase your memories I'll admit that I was relieved. You no longer had any idea what happened, and despite still feeling something for you, pretending like I didn't became effortless."

"So what do you feel for me now?"

"I don't really know how to describe it," Harry answered. "I just know I feel good when I'm around you."

Hermione said nothing, and chewed on her top lip considering this new information.

"Where do we go from here?" Harry pressed.

Hermione sighed.

"Honestly? I think the last thing you or I need right now is anything complicated," she said logically. " ... and you and I... its outrageously complicated."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry conceded quietly, his disappointment evident.

"So..."

"So?"

"We go back to being friends," Hermione suggested with a hesitant glance towards him.

Harry smiled softly.

"I could really use a friend."

"Yeah, me too."