Thoroughly disoriented from a late morning nap after his exhaustion caught up to him, Draco awoke to a loud noise from the kitchen. He leapt from bed, grappling for his wand on the nightstand, and edged from the room.

He lowered his wand and dragged a hand through his hair. "What the fuck are you doing?" he drawled.

Theo's eyes widened as though caught in a prank, and it didn't bode well for Draco's precarious nerves.

"Making you breakfast?" He brandished a loaf of bread like a peace offering.

"Technically," Potter interrupted, striding into the room, "lunch. But since you're just getting up, breakfast."

"I didn't sleep last night," Draco retorted with a strange mixture of defensiveness and gratitude. He dipped back into the room to tug on his jeans from earlier with the sudden and unexpected company and shrugged into a jumper as he walked back out.

Potter offered a thin smile. "We know. I've just been to check on Hermione's status at St Mungo's, and no news yet. One of Huxley's assistants suggested we might hear something by the evening."

Draco nodded, sinking into a chair. "Thanks for checking on her."

He already suspected as much as he'd stopped by the hospital on his way home from the Ministry. But there was something odd―and encouraging―about knowing he could count Harry Potter as a friend.

He supposed after everything they'd been through, it fit.

"By the way," Draco said, retrieving his badge. He tossed it onto the table, watching first confusion, then comprehension flit across his partner's face.

"What the fuck," Potter said, gaping. "Seriously?"

Theo looked up from his efforts with the kettle and snatched the badge. His jaw fell open. "Draco! Since when?"

Lifting his brows, Draco nodded. "I was at the office this morning, and Robards found me."

"So you're through with training?" Potter asked, releasing a low whistle. "I suspected you would be soon, but―congrats, mate. I imagine they'll put on a big do over it in the department. It's a big deal to pass training."

"You're sure you didn't know and just forget to mention it?" Draco drawled. "Sort of like a certain detail about that smuggling ring?"

Potter's eyes shot wide. "Shit. I meant to mention that last night. Then… you know, whisky."

Theo appeared again, setting a plate of toast on the table with some butter and jam.

For Theo, it was practically gourmet.

Draco selected a slice, surprisingly ravenous, and spread it with strawberry preserves. "Thanks, mate." He took a large bite, and within moments, he was preparing another. After the night before and the morning's events, it was nice to have a break.

Not for the first time, Draco found himself grateful for Theo and Potter in his life. He didn't know how the last number of months would have gone if he didn't have friends at his side.

"You know what we should do? Given today's likely to be unbearable, and we all have the day off." Potter asked, stirring milk into his tea.

"Sit here and stew over Hermione's condition?" Theo drawled.

Snickering, Draco took a sip of his tea. Over-steeped, as was Theo's usual preparation, but he opted not to jab this time. "Don't say drink whisky."

Potter shuddered. "Not whisky. We're going flying."

Draco blew out a breath. Although he wanted to remain nearby and within an instant Apparition trip to the hospital should any news arise, he knew they were right. If he were left to his own devices, he would sit and brood over Hermione all day. And truthfully, he didn't care to be alone.

There was a measure of solace in knowing neither of them judged him for the way he felt―more than he would have expected.

And while a part of him feared for the procedure they'd had to initiate on Hermione's mind; a bigger part feared the outcome—that she may end up worse off.

"Flying is good," he said, blowing out a breath. Despite himself, a grin spread across his face. "It's been a while since Potter and I battled it out for the snitch."

Theo snickered, sinking deeper into his seat as he drank his mediocre tea. "Just don't ask me to pick a side."


Draco felt surprisingly rejuvenated by the time the owl came.

Instantly, he recognised Huxley's tight handwriting, scanning the missive with bated breath, and his heart lodged in his throat.

Potter peered at the letter, shouldering his broom. "What does it say?"

"They've finished the procedure," Draco said, his mind whirring. "And Hermione's going home to recover. That's all it says."

"Recover how?" Theo asked, cocking a brow. "Rather vague, isn't it?"

Draco coiled the missive back into a roll and tucked it into his pocket. The first hints of sunset had just begun to play about the horizon, casting the world in a brilliant golden haze. But despite the summer weather, a shudder chased along his spine. He drew out his phone, squinting into the blazing sun, and dialled Hermione's number.

She answered after the third ring. "Hi."

Relief swept through him, a raw, visceral thing, and he released a long sigh. Some of the tension he'd been carrying since the evening prior seeped away. "Hi. How are you feeling? Do you need me to get you at the hospital?"

"I'm okay." Her voice sounded soft, but her tone gave nothing away. "I'm already home." Silence hung for a moment before she added, "I Apparated myself."

"Of course." She'd been practicing short distances, but obviously, she'd improved well enough. It was understandable she hadn't felt up to it the night before. "Can I bring you anything? Have you eaten?"

Draco could feel Theo and Potter staring at him, and warmth stung his cheeks. He took a few steps away.

"I don't need anything. Thanks, Draco."

Something was wrong; he could feel it in the edge to her voice, and he didn't think it was recovery from the procedure. "Did everything go alright?"

On the other end of the line, she sighed. "It was unpleasant, but I think so. Huxley wants to keep an eye on me for the next while to be sure."

"Right," he offered. "That makes sense."

"If you want… you can come by."

She didn't sound entirely convinced, and his heart thudded an anxious cadence in his chest. "I'd love to see you," he said, "but only if you feel up to it." Still, he couldn't shake the uneasy conviction that something else was weighing on her.

But her voice softened when she spoke next. "I'd like that. I… miss you."

Merlin, he'd missed her more than he could express, having scarcely seen or talked to her all week. And with the way fear had clenched his heart like a vise with her impromptu procedure, just the thought of seeing her embedded peace into his heart.

"Okay." He glanced at his watch with a grimace. After flying all afternoon, he was in need of a shower before he saw her. "I'll be over in fifteen or twenty minutes."

"See you then."

The line clicked off before he could say anything more. He found Theo and Potter waiting, expectant, and he shrugged. "She's okay. Home to recover."

"Why do you sound like this is bad news?" Potter cocked a brow, uncertainty flickering across his face.

Draco pressed his eyes briefly shut. "Because something sounded off. I've got to run―wish me luck."

Without waiting for a response, he collected his broom and Apparated home.


He found Hermione seated cross-legged on the floor of her sitting room, messy curls piled in a knot atop her head and her oversized Queen Mary jumper on. Her lips were pulled into a downwards tilt, a large cardboard box on the rug before her. She looked pale, her countenance fatigued but not nearly as washed out as he had anticipated. A cup of tea sat, neglected, on the coffee table to the side.

Without looking up at his arrival, she announced, "Hi. Tea's on."

Draco sank into the sofa, peering at her. "How are you doing?" When he looked closer, he realised she held a few photographs―and with a jolt, he recognised the box as one of the ones she'd salvaged from her Gringotts vault.

"Okay." The word fell from her lips, soft and uncertain, and at last, she lifted her gaze towards him. A quiet thoughtfulness took her, and at last, she flinched. "I'm doing my best to process all of this."

Something behind the words left him unsettled, and Draco frowned. "All of this―from the procedure?"

Her lips quirked into an effort at a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She tapped the side of her temple with two fingers. "All of this."

In an instant, understanding dawned, and his eyes widened. "Your memories."

"Yeah." The word was a breath, followed by a slow nod. "It's… not what I expected."

"You got them all back?" Draco was baffled, not only by the realisation, but by her blasé reaction to it all. After everything she'd been through to try and recover her memories, he had expected her to be ecstatic.

"It was touch and go for a while," she confessed. "According to Huxley, the procedure wasn't pretty. But it was either force them out or deal with the fact that they could be lost forever. I've got a blasted headache. But... I'm here."

He slipped from the sofa, folding himself onto the floor beside her. Her gaze was heavy upon him. "And how are you feeling about it all?"

"I am trying," she breathed, "to make sense of a lot of things. You, for one. Trying to put myself in your shoes that first day we met. How you must have felt to come across me, living the way I was and believing myself to be a Muggle." A bit of a humourless titter fell from her lips. "Trying to rationalise how I fell in love with Draco Malfoy."

Hearing her say his name, complete with the context she had still lacked until the day before, forced a chill down his spine. It was droll, sardonic, lacking some of the warmth he'd come to know.

"I don't―" He managed a swallow, pushing himself to hold her stare. "I don't know what to say about that other than… you already know how surprised I was."

"And imagine my surprise," she breathed, "to know you now, with a full inventory of knowledge and experiences back in place. The way we treated each other, the name-calling, the war." At once, tears spiked from her eyes, but she made no effort to stem the flow as they began to slide silently down her cheeks.

Draco reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't pull away. "I'm here," he murmured, "however you want me to be. Or if you don't―if you need some time."

"I've seen bits and pieces come back, of course," she went on as though he hadn't said anything. "Flickers here and there―and you've always told me our past was colourful. I guess I didn't realise quite…"

She trailed off with a sharp intake of breath, glancing away to stare at the floor, but she didn't withdraw her hand from his.

"I can only imagine."

Brow furrowed, she caught his eye again. "There's a part of me that can't believe it. But yet… I've lived it for months. It's an odd situation to be in."

It certainly explained why she had been cool and standoffish on the phone—why she wasn't overjoyed with the return of her memories. He could only imagine the confusion in trying to parse through the years of new memories now mingled with the old.

"I hope you know, despite all of this," Draco mused, "that my feelings for you are real. And I've never lied about that."

"I know," she whispered. After a moment, she added, "As are mine, of course. You should know by now that wasn't going to change just because my memories came back... although some of these are... I can't believe I hit you."

He snickered, feeling a flicker of hope for the first time. "I deserved it."

"You honestly did." Finally, warmth curled her lips in a smile he recognised. "Merlin, it's just... it's the strangest thing. I can't describe it. It's like… I've been living this life, with you, and Harry and Theo, and… it's all been an outward shell of everything I knew once. Like I've missed years of my life but still existed within them."

Draco couldn't understand the intricacies of it, but he could only imagine how complex the inner workings of her mind were at the moment. "What can I do to help?"

Her face was hopeful. "Patience? As I sort through everything. I love you, Draco, and that hasn't changed―but I need to sift through everything. Compartmentalise―determine what does and doesn't matter anymore. The new memories feel more important than the old ones, for the most part... but there's a lot here to dig through. Like an old photo album, but each photo carries so much weight."

"Of course." He brushed a kiss to her temple, blowing out a breath. "I'm here however you need me. Promise."

"There's something else." She looked down at the floor, where she'd set the photographs she'd been looking at when he walked in. With a jolt, he realised it was the photograph of her parents. "I'm just..." She dropped her face into her palm. "Really trying to make sense of what happened with my parents. With the memory spell―with everything."

He almost couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it instantly when he learned of her memories returning. It was one of the topics that hadn't returned to her at all. He dropped his voice and asked, "What happened?"

Hermione remained silent for a long moment, and then she gave a sniffle; swiped at her eyes. "There's a block of time that's still missing—from shortly after eighth year ended to the point where I woke up without my memories. Huxley thinks it might be because that was the moment when everything changed. The rest is... almost painfully vivid. Even things I'd forgotten about. But I have a bad feeling that... this wasn't an accident or a spell gone wrong."

Draco's heart sank. Ever since he learned she had existed as an alias and the preparation that must have been involved, he had wondered if there hadn't been some aspect of the situation that was premeditated.

She squeezed his hand, briefly, almost idly, and pressed on. "If I didn't know this was going to happen, at the very least, I suspected it. I was... prepared to begin a Muggle life."

"You restored your parents' memories knowing it could have wiped yours entirely," Draco mused. Despite the pain in her countenance, he kept his voice as clinical as he could manage.

She whispered a quiet, forlorn, "Something like that." She fingered the photographs, swiping at more tears. "I have to see them, to tell them I've got my memory back―but first, I need to know for sure."

His heart cracked at her desolation. "What can I do?"

At last, she lifted her eyes to his again. "I need a Portkey."


Draco spent the night at Hermione's flat, but he could tell she was both mentally and physically drained from the ordeal after their discussion. She slept tucked into his arms, her body wracked with restless quivers and mind churning with dreams.

In the morning, she apologised profusely despite his refusal of the affront.

Although he would have preferred to spend the day with Hermione to ensure she was alright, he knew it wouldn't look good if he missed the first day after Robards had announced his training complete. And Hermione had insisted she would be going to the Ministry herself to speak with Unspeakable Caldwell.

As it turned out, Huxley's idea of recovering was simply to ensure she had time to process everything adequately―because, after a night's rest, she seemed more mentally astute than he had seen in a while.

At lunch, Draco and Potter ventured to the Ministry cafe, and Hermione slipped in to join them, her expression almost apologetic and gaze fixed on Potter. Tears slid down her cheeks, visible even as she approached, and instantly Potter drew her into his chest, dwarfing her smaller figure.

When they finally broke apart, speaking quietly, Potter brushed at his own eyes.

Draco caught the fresh sparkle in her eye, and he couldn't miss the relief in Potter's countenance. Especially knowing the man had feared he might never recover their friendship. They sat together, talking throughout lunch, and Draco couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips to see her so carefree, even if just for a moment.

Before returning to the DMLE for their next assignment, Hermione pulled Draco's hand into hers as though for support.

It felt strange, knowing they were finally on an even footing, everything between them laid bare. And as far as he could tell, she still wanted him in her life. A part of him wondered at all of it―while another only appreciated the fact that he had been given a chance to get to know her without all the baggage between them.

He could never regret that.

In the Department of Transportation, Hermione spoke with the receptionist to secure an international Portkey to Brisbane, Australia for the weekend. She suspected the last of the answers she'd long been missing were still there in Australia, and in order to finally come to peace with the situation, she needed to know. Draco couldn't begrudge her that bit of closure.

"One passenger, then?" the woman asked, jarring Draco from his thoughts.

Hermione hesitated―just long enough for her eyes to dart towards him―before she opened her mouth to respond. She hadn't asked him to go along, and he hadn't offered, uncertain whether she wanted to deal with it alone.

But at the brief flicker of uncertainty, he cleared his throat and announced, "Two, please."

"You don't have to do that," Hermione said quietly, eyes shooting wide. "I'm fine to go alone―I know you've got to work, and―"

"And I can take a couple of days off."

At the finality in his tone, she visibly relaxed and turned back to the woman with a smile. "For two." While she spoke with the woman to finalise the travel plans, Draco couldn't help the slightest hint of warmth that chased through him.

He had never been to Australia―but furthermore, if it would help Hermione find the peace she so desperately longed for―he would travel to the ends of the earth.


"She probably hasn't told you," Potter said, "but it's Hermione's birthday next week."

Draco lifted his brows. "Every time I've asked her about it, she claims it doesn't matter, and with everything going on, I've forgotten to ask you." He frowned, mind whirring. "We're going to Australia this weekend."

Potter shrugged, skimming a report. "She'll tell you she doesn't want to do anything to celebrate it. Ever since the war was going on, she hasn't cared for it. But..."

"But she's only just got her memories back," Draco surmised. "And we ought to do something for her."

Setting the report down with caution, Potter turned towards him in silence. "Yes and no. I think it would be good if we did something for her, but I also don't want her to be overwhelmed by a large gathering or something. She still hasn't seen a lot of her old friends since Hogwarts." Their gazes met, and Potter released a sigh. "I know you aren't keen on this gathering we're meant to have with the Weasleys―and truth be told, I'm not exactly looking forward to it, either. I'm concerned they'll be critical of Theo."

"If anyone says anything rude to Theo," Draco drawled, cocking a brow, "I'll shut them up myself."

Although Potter fired him a scowl, his lips twitched. "I'll join you."

Draco sighed. "I don't want to go, but I know it's important to Hermione."

"Yeah," Potter muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair. "We'll get through it, and I'll pick up a bottle for afterwards."

Despite himself, Draco chuckled. Never would he have imagined a day when Potter was on his side regarding the Weasley brood.

"Don't get me wrong," Potter hastily tacked on, "Ron and I are still friends, and I get along with most of the Weasleys. There's just a lot of tension given the way Ginny and I ended things, and Molly Weasley never quite forgave me for it."

"No judgement here," Draco snickered. "You're good for Theo, and that's enough for me."

Potter's face softened. "Thanks, Malfoy."


"So," Draco prompted, fixing Hermione with a stare as she lounged on his sofa, her face in a book. "What are we doing for your birthday?"

She froze, fingers hanging over her page, and her eyes slid towards his. "Nothing."

"We aren't doing nothing," he murmured, "unless you really don't want to do anything."

Releasing a sigh, she sank back against the cushion. "I typically prefer not to―though ironically, I'd forgotten about that until recently. After I lost my parents, it didn't feel right celebrating anything, and then I sort of..."

"It stuck," he mused. She nodded, a frown tugging at her lips. "The good news is that your parents remember you again."

"I know." She drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa, shifted one leg beneath herself, and sighed again. "I suppose there are a lot of things I've been putting off since my memories returned. Like seeing my parents―I told them I'd got my memories back. It just feels strange―like I spent so much time trying to get them back, but I lost track of everything when I lost my memory."

Sadness tugged at Draco's brow as he stared at her. "It doesn't minimise anything, you know—that you forgot about them. It doesn't change everything you went through trying to get them back―or what you did to protect them in the first place."

"I know," she breathed but sounded unconvinced. As though steeling herself, she blew out a breath. "You're right. We should do something. I'll talk to my parents―I know they'd love to get to know you better, and maybe you and I could do something with Theo and Harry? Maybe a couple other friends?"

"That sounds good." Draco didn't care to mention that he and Potter had already debated the same idea. "Hermione?" Her gaze snapped up; her eyes large and worried. "It's all going to be alright. I promise."

She offered him a sad smile that broke his heart. "I know it will. It just genuinely feels like it will take a while before things feel alright again."

"I know. Believe me, I know." Draco slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close into his chest. "And I'm here―however you need."

Some of the tension dissolved from her at last, and she pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you."

Merlin, Draco thought he might never tire of hearing those words.


Author's Note: Thanks, as always, for reading. As we near the end of the story, I'm excited to share that my next WIP will be a post-Battle of Hogwarts War AU! Stay tuned for more information xo

Hugs to my alpha, Kyonomiko, and beta, FaeOrabel.