Ginny awoke the next day in a strange bedroom. Harry's bedroom. She turned her head and her bleary eyes made out the curve of a familiar cheek, the thick thatch of black hair, the green eyes wide with worry.

"You're awake," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

Ginny shifted and groaned.

"What happened?" she asked. Then, "Is everyone okay?"

Harry gently pushed her back down, "I don't know yet. I'm fine, and Narcissa's fine. Lupin's not back yet. Draco – " He clenched his teeth. "Draco's still unconscious."

Ginny pushed her sweaty limp red hair out of her face and stared up at him, "Do you think he'll survive?"

"God only knows." Harry's voice sounded very far away, "When he started breathing again, she – she looked so helpless. As if she'd hurt him, instead of me. I won't ever forget that look." His eyes gazed off into the distance, seeing nothing.

Ginny touched his hand, "It wasn't your fault. She can't be angry with you. You saved our lives."

"I might have killed her only son," Harry whispered.

"It wasn't your fault," she interrupted fiercely, "Nobody could have expected you to do less. And anyway, Lupin made you swear to protect her."

"Her?" Harry gave a short laugh, "I wasn't protecting her, Ginny. I was hurting him because he hurt you."

Ginny stared at her hands, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. She'd wanted him to say this for so long – for months – but she never thought he'd say these things to her again.

"When I – when I saw him hurt you," Harry stammered, "I didn't know what to do. I wanted to kill him. I would have killed him, if she hadn't stepped between us."

"Harry – "

He looked at her, "I don't care what happens from now on," he said fiercely, "I don't care who tries to separate us. Seeing you, on the floor – I thought I was going to die along with you. I hadn't even told you that I loved you." He took her hand, "I love you, Ginny. And I'm not going to let anyone – least of all me – separate us again."

Ginny's arms were weak. But she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, tasting her tears - testing the first joy of love again.

When Remus arrived, shortly after 10 AM, he looked tired and wan. Harry fielded him at the front door and told him what had happened. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked hesitantly on Narcissa's door.

Her tired voice answered, and he slowly went in.

The morning sun dappled the large queen-size bed, making the two figures sitting on it look lonelier and more lost than before. Narcissa sat on the edge, her face tired and grief-stricken, her eyes older than her thirty-seven years.

Draco lay still in the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow and faint. Narcissa was pushing the thin white blonde locks from his face with an expression of absolute misery.

"Narcissa," Remus murmured.

She looked up at him. For an instant, her expression brightened, but then it lapsed into darkness again. He was beside her in an instant, a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"How did it happen?" he asked, "How did he find you?"

She shook her head, "Harry says he must have gone knocking on each door until he saw me. He pretended he was you, and you were hurt. It was my fault. I thought maybe – it's my fault that Ginny's hurt. I'm so sorry, Remus. I should have been more careful."

"It's nobody's fault," Remus answered, "If you hadn't gotten to Draco first, someone else might have. He would be dead by now, if not for you. It's a miracle he's survived this far – the entire Ministry wants his head."

Narcissa raised large, frightened eyes.

"What did he do?"

Remus sighed heavily and told her about the events surrounding Dumbledore's murder. She listened, her eyes widening with each word. When he finished, she spoke.

"But if he didn't kill Dumbledore – they can't possibly blame him! He's a child, Remus!"

"He's seventeen," Remus sighed again, "And they killed his father for not even being involved in Dumbledore's murder. They won't hesitate to convict him, not for a minute."

"But you don't believe he was – involved in that, do you?" she asked him.

Remus reached over and yanked up Draco's filthy sleeve. Narcissa gasped when she saw the black tattoo of a skull with a snake slithering through its gaping jaw.

"The Dark Mark," Remus replied, "The tattoo the Dark Lord gives his followers. No, I don't think that your son is a murderer. I don't think he could have brought himself to kill Dumbledore, and I certainly don't think, despite what Harry believes, that he could have brought himself to kill you. But I cannot deny that he went to the tower with the intention of killing Dumbledore."

Narcissa set her jaw.

"I'm not letting him be taken," she replied, "Not while there's breath in my body. And if you and Harry don't want to guard him, I'll do it by myself. We'll leave. I'm not going to let my son be executed like my husband was."

"Your husband wasn't executed," Remus replied dryly, "You took care of that, as I recall."

Narcissa's cheeks flamed, "Are you suggesting that I kill my own son?"

"Listen to me!" Remus urged her, "I don't think your son is a killer. And I'm not going to turn him into the authorities. But you need to stay here. You both do. You have to convince Draco that you aren't going to turn him in, and that he must not, under any circumstances, return to the Death Eaters. Do you understand?"

Narcissa looked at him for a long moment. Then she nodded.

Remus jerked his chin quickly in assent, "Good. Have you had anything to eat?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "I'm not leaving him."

"I'll get you something from the kitchen."

"Remus," she murmured as he got to his feet. She grabbed his hand. He felt electricity at her touch, but shook his head to be rid of it.

"Yes?"

He looked down at her, and her blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

"I forgot about him, Remus. I forgot about my own son."

Remus felt his heart break for her. You forgot about all of us, he wanted to say. But he could not. He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, while she cried as if her heart would break.

Draco felt as if he was swimming. The waters were murky, and he was reaching out, but he couldn't find what he was looking for. He reached out his arms and touched – something. But what was it?

And then he saw her face. Cloudy at first, but then as brilliant as the sun. He saw her familiar features, the blue eyes shining like sapphires, the unfamiliar short brown hair.

"Draco," she whispered, "Baby? Can you hear me?"

Her fingers touched his cheek. Draco reached up and touched her hand. It was real. It was real, and it wasn't a dream, and she remembered him. She remembered him! Draco wanted to cry. He couldn't speak. He couldn't say a word.

"Draco?" she murmured, in a voice that was sweeter to him than anything, "Can you hear me? Wake up, sweetheart."

It was as if nothing had happened, as if he was still a child, and she was waking him up to go to school. He opened his mouth, licked his lips, and croaked:

"Mum."

And then her face split in a beatific smile. She opened her arms and Draco lifted his weak body to her. She held him close to her and she was crying, her tears falling on his shirt, on his face, into his hair. He didn't care. He didn't care about the orders he'd been given, or Snape, or Aunt Bellatrix, or the Dark Lord himself. He would go through every hell if only he could be with his mother and she would know him again.

"I'm so sorry," she was crying, "I'm so, so sorry, honey."

Draco began crying too, even though he was far too old for it. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry, too, Mum," he sobbed.

Finally, they pulled apart. And Draco looked at her with fresh memory.

"Oh, why did you do it, Mum?" he asked her sadly, "Why did you kill Dad?"

Narcissa's face clouded sadly.

"Draco," she said, "I can't explain it to you because I don't know why. I can't remember. Things – things happened, sweetheart, do you understand that? That's why I couldn't remember you. That's why I – I killed your father."

Draco shook his head, "I don't understand!"

"Remus can explain it better than I can," she replied.

"Remus?" Draco recoiled in horror. "The werewolf?"

"Werewolf?" Narcissa asked, her face blank.

"I think I should take it from here, Narcissa," a voice said from behind her.

Remus stepped forward and touched Narcissa on the shoulder, "It'll be okay. I'll explain everything to Draco."

Narcissa looked up at him, "Werewolf?" she said again.

Remus shook his head, "I'll tell you later."

Draco looked at him in hate, "I don't want to talk to you. Mum – "

"Your mother's been awake with you for almost three days," Remus replied, "She needs some sleep. She's dead on her feet."

"No! Mum – "

"Draco," Narcissa soothed, "I'll be fine. Remus will explain everything. I'll be in the next room." She kissed him on the forehead, then turned to Remus.

"You'll call me, if he needs me?" she asked him.

"In an instant," he replied.

Draco followed his mother with a desperate look in his eyes as she stumbled half-dead from the room. Remus waved his wand and shut the door behind her. With a look of determination on his face, he turned to Draco.

"Where to begin," he said.

Draco glared at him. "I don't want to talk to you," he snapped, "What have you done to my mum?"

"I didn't do anything to her," Remus replied tiredly, "Your mother was the victim of a curse that obliterated her memory when she was seventeen years old."

"Bull," Draco said.

"It's true," Remus replied, "The Auralium Curse. She lost her memory at the age of seventeen, and when your father died, she lost it again. That's why she didn't remember you. Her memories were contingent on your father being alive. When he died – he took everything she'd ever known with her. She had to begin again. She had to remember everything anew. Luckily for you, she remembered what was most important to her in time."

Draco shook his head, "That doesn't explain why she killed my dad1"

"Your father," Remus answered, "had been sentenced to death by the Dementor's Kiss. It's a horrible death, Draco – the worst there is. I was there at his trial. I was sitting with your mother. Your father had asked me to be there, when I visited him in Azkaban."

"Why would you visit him?" Draco asked, "My father had nothing to do with you!"

"True," Remus replied, "but I used to be friends with your mother, a very long time ago. And I cared for her. Your father told me that when he died, she would be alone in the world – with no memory of her previous life. I agreed to help her. She wanted to be there for the trial, so I went with her. Your – your mother loved your father very much."

It seemed to cost Remus a lot to say these words. He cleared his throat and continued.

"When your father was condemned – your mother just fell apart. She ran to him and cursed him. The Avada Kedavra – The Killing Curse. He died a painless death, Draco. Your mother didn't kill your father out of spite. She gave him a beautifully painless death instead of a horrific living death. She loved him so much she was willing to risk imprisonment and even death itself for him. But then the Auralium Curse took hold, and she lost what was left of her memories. Including memories of you."

Draco looked away.

"She is starting to remember," Remus went on, "Bit by bit. She remembers you, she remembers that she was once friends with Harry's parents – '

Draco stared at him. Remus smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Back at school, when I knew her, her very best friend was Muggle-born Lily Evans."

"It isn't true," Draco murmured.

"It is," Remus answered, "And I must tell you this now. I know you are no killer, Draco. I know you would not have killed Professor Dumbledore and that you only planned to do so because Lord Voldemort threatened to kill your father and mother."

Draco flinched but did not deny it.

"And I know," Remus went on, "that you only came here to kill your mother because you were threatened as well. Yes, I know it," he said when Draco's head shot up, "I know it because I know you, and I knew your parents. You aren't a murderer, Draco. You wouldn't have done it, even if the Ministry believes you would have."

"What are you going to do about it?" Draco asked, "You can't convince them."

"No, that I can't," Remus replied, "But I told your father something else. I swore to protect you as best I could. And I'm going to keep that promise, Draco."

"It's not a promise you can keep," Draco replied.

"I can keep you hidden here, with your mother," Remus answered, "I can keep you safe with Harry and Ginny."

"With Potter?" Draco spat, "Stay here with Potter?"

"You have no choice, I'm afraid," Remus replied lightly, "I can hardly say he's happier about it than you are. But the two of you must learn to get along. I can protect you, but you must stay in this house. If you set foot outside – there is nothing I can do for you."

Draco looked at him.

"If the Dark Lord wants me dead," he said slowly, "you can't save me."

"That may be true," Remus answered, "But I can promise you this – he will not kill you or your mother when I have breath in my body."

Draco shook his head, a slow ironic smile playing at his lips.

"You may say so, Remus Lupin," he said, a chill in his words, "and I may be at the mercy of you and Potter and everyone else in the so-called Order of the Phoenix. But I don't believe you will save me, or even, when the time comes, that you will try. And while I will agree to stay here, strictly out of fear for my mother's survival, I do so knowing that, sooner or later, if the Dark Lord wants me, he'll come for me. Oh yes, we may now be allies," and he smiled again, "we will never – I promise you – be friends."