A scolding voice woke her up with a start. Hermione immediately felt a thudding pain in her right hand, the hard bed with crisp sheets, and an immense, physical grogginess in her head.

She sat up, blinking at the bright sun streaming into the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was arguing with Neville about something, she realised. Hermione pushed herself up and looked around the ward; it was just her, Neville, and Bill and Fleur. The beautiful French woman looked at her as she sat up, and walked over to Hermione.

"Are you ok, Hermione? You're in the Hogwarts hospital wing."

Not only did she look devastatingly beautiful, but Fleur had free reign to sit in the hospital wing and hold her partner's hand. The ugly jealous thought caught in her mind and revealed another hole in Hermione's memory, and she blinked hard.

"Sorry. Yes, I know where I am," she answered.

"Your friend said you fainted," Fleur said, looking at Hermione quite intently. "Ron said you were cursed last night? You tried to stop Dumbledore's murderer? You must be quite as brave as Harry."

A crooked smile reached Hermione's face as she realised Ron had tried and failed to use her unconscious form to curry some sort of favour with his brother's fiancée. "I was a total failure last night," she admitted to Fleur. "I did not even slow Snape down."

"He is a dangerous, evil man," Fleur said sadly. "I am glad he did not hurt you."

Hermione looked past her to the mangled wizard at the end of the ward; another part of her broken brain caught at the sight. "How is Bill?" she asked.

Fleur smiled again, dazzling like the sun. "Alive. He was awake, before…they will do more tests today to see how wolfish they think he will be now." She blinked, trying to hold back tears. "When we got the message, and I saw him, I was so scared. But here he is. He's so brave. I'm so grateful."

Hermione nodded mechanically. She should not compare. She had plenty to be grateful for, too – it was a miracle her and Draco had both survived. Hermione crossed her arms so she would not fiddle with her bangle.

"And Neville's ok?" she continued, looking over Fleur's shoulder to watch him and Madam Pomfrey argue. "Seems to be well enough to fight with the nurse."

"Yes. He was also very brave," Fleur said, looking over at him as well.

"It's not the first time he's fought Death Eaters," Hermione said. "Neville's fearless." The words tasted like vomit in her mouth; she did not want to keep talking about all the brave men and women who had stood up to Voldemort. "So I passed out?"

"Your friend – Luna, Ron said? She brought you back," Fleur said. "Madam Pomfrey did tests and kept you overnight. But whatever curse Snape did, it shows no trace."

"Imperius Curse," Hermione sighed. "I figured…makes you suggestible. And you can't test for it." She did not much fancy staying in the hospital wing with the bravest fighters from the battle she had missed entirely last night. "I wonder if I can leave now?"

But Madam Pomfrey bustled over and started telling her off for getting in Snape's way, talking about how rest was required for recovery from an Imperius Curse, and it seemed like Hermione was very affected by Snape's curse so she would need to stay here for at least another day.

That reminded her. "Is there a copy of today's Prophet?" she asked. Fleur found a copy of the paper at the front of the ward and handed it to her.

Hermione looked at the date, mouth hung open like a fish out of water. 1 July 1997. She had lost a month. With Fleur's attention back on Bill, she pulled her bangle off behind the newspaper. He had sent another message since the previous evening.

I know you hate me, but send something. I have to know you're alright for the Vow.

She felt compelled to talk about it; and Draco was the only one she could confide in about this, after all.

My brain is fucked up from the curse and the missing memories.

She shoved it back on and started to read the headlines about Dumbledore's death, not sure if he would have the chance to reply anytime soon, but her bangle warmed quickly against her wrist.

Your memories are hidden in a desk in the Charms classroom. Sticky one at the back.

I'm sorry Hermione. You didn't give me a choice.

Anger flared at his accusation; however, without her memories, she couldn't be sure that he was wrong. Madam Pomfrey was never going to let her go early willingly; she'd have to sneak out after nightfall to get her memories back.

She didn't know what else to say. Her anger at Draco and relief that he was alive wrestled inside her.

I'm glad you're alive, she eventually settled on, and slid the bangle back over her knuckles before walking over to see Neville.

"Hi, Hermione," he said, looking bored but healthy. "They said Snape cursed you."

Hermione shook her head. "It was nothing. Sounds like you had it way worse."

He shook his head too. "Nah. I'm getting out today. They said you got cursed and someone broke your hand –"

"Ah – that one was me," Hermione said, looking at her now unbroken but still bruised and painful right hand. "I punched the wall when I found out the fight was over. I've never felt so angry." She smiled to try and cover up the shameful shiny blush that was rising up her face. "Or so cowardly."

"Hermione, you didn't have a choice. Don't think about it that way." Neville leaned in and kept talking, voice lower. "Snape wanted you out of the way – like Flitwick. He must think you're good at duelling to do that."

Hermione looked away. "I don't think so, Neville. I think it was just the easiest, quickest way to Dumbledore." She remembered their Defence lesson with the imposter Professor Moody in fourth year, where the only person who had successfully thrown off the Imperius Curse was Harry. Watching him half break his knees, yearning to be as good at resisting Dark magic as he was. "If I was a better witch, I could have thrown it off," she said, to Neville and to herself and to all the Gryffindors in her fourth year memory. A whole month. And it seemed it had only lifted when Malfoy decided it. It felt worse than any other time he had hexed her.

"No. Don't beat yourself up about this, Hermione," Neville said forcefully. "Do you think my parents weren't good at magic? Because they couldn't withstand an Unforgiveable?"

Hermione whipped her head back round to look at Neville, hands to her mouth. "Oh god, Neville – no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"I know you didn't mean it. I'm just saying, you're wrong. It's not your fault."

But it was Hermione's fault she was Imperiused; if she had never gotten involved with Malfoy, it never would have happened…

Neville suddenly pulled her into a hug, and the guilt spilled over her heart, tears rolling down her face. Madam Pomfrey came over again and started yelling at them both, firmly directing Hermione back to her own bed and forcing her to eat some breakfast and take a Dreamless Sleep Draught. Hermione shoved some fruit down and took the potion without complaint; she was not ready to face the real world, and especially not Ron or Harry.

When she woke up again, it was late afternoon. She could hear several of the Weasleys chatting from Bill's direction. Hermione didn't want to face them. She wondered if she could get away with lying still and falling back asleep.

Hermione pulled her wrist up to her face under the blankets carefully, but her message from before stayed in place. Suddenly, staying still seemed more intolerable than throwing off the blankets and getting up.

Fleur was with Bill, along with his parents and the twins. Despite the fact his facial features were still barely visible through Fenrir's vicious wounds, Bill was sitting up and appeared to be chatting easily with his family; he waved in Hermione's direction as she swung her legs out of bed and stood up. The other Weasleys turned to her and smiled.

"Oh, Hermione!" Mrs Weasley said, and Fred strode over to her, clapping an encouraging hand on her back.

"We heard you took on Snape," he said. Hermione shook her head – how many times was she going to have to tell people this was a gross exaggeration of what happened? She again felt like she had something in common with Harry, who was too often accused of being humble as the celebrity ran ahead of reality.

"I really didn't, Fred, he must have Imperiused me immediately."

"That is quite enough to be getting on with, dear," Mrs Weasley tsked. "Why were you all out and about following Death Eaters anyway?"

"Well…Harry had a few hunches…turned out he was correct," Hermione said vaguely, but Mrs Weasley's mouth only grew more pursed as she tried to explain. "Hi, Bill," she said, hating how small her voice sounded.

"Hermione, the tests went so well!" Fleur said happily. "Bill will be fine."

"I just like blue steaks a lot more now, apparently," Bill said; Hermione noticed a bloody plate on his bedside table.

"Yeah, and he was so ugly before," George started, "so really it's like –"

Mrs Weasley whacked his arm.

"I'm so glad," Hermione replied, voice stronger. Fred steered her towards his vacated seat by Bill and the Weasleys.

"How about you, though, Hermione?" Mr Weasley asked. "Madam Pomfrey said you took quite a turn." His face was filled with wholly undeserved concern for her.

"I'll be fine. She said I could leave tomorrow. Just need some sleep," Hermione said. "How about you, Bill?"

"I'll be here till the funeral," he said somberly.

"It's in a few days," Mrs Weasley said. "And then the Hogwarts Express will run to take all the students home."

Hermione nodded, thinking on this as the others continued to discuss the funeral arrangements. A few days…

She knew it was likely the end of her time at Hogwarts. Harry would not return to school, she was sure. Not now that Dumbledore had died and the hunt for horcruxes had begun. And if he was going to look for horcruxes, she would be there with him, as Draco had so painfully pointed out a month ago. The school might not be safe for much longer, anyway, if Death Eaters could run rampant in the halls…well, with one exception. Hermione wondered if Draco would return to school next year, if Voldemort would allow it…

With his month-long Imperius, her research time had been cut drastically short. Hermione wondered if her remaining time would be better spent trying to research top priorities, or on trying to break Madam Pince's curses so she could steal from the library with reckless abandon. Bill was here for the next few days, maybe he could help her? She could always use her money or Harry's gold to buy books available for sale, so maybe she should focus on rarer, older books that were out of print.

If Draco was back at school, maybe she could beg some research favours off him over the bangle. And he was probably at Malfoy manor now, maybe there would be something in his family's library that could help her…

Her research reverie was interrupted as Ron, Ginny and Harry entered the hospital wing, greeting her happily as they saw she was awake.

"Are you ok?" Ginny asked. "Luna carried you back – you were out cold."

"I'm really fine," Hermione insisted again. "I get out tomorrow."

"Excuse me, I will decide if you leave tomorrow!" Madam Pomfrey said angrily as she walked past them all with a range of scar treating ointments for Bill. "You should be resting in bed, Ms Granger, not gallivanting around the hospital wing."

"Gallivanting?" she said incredulously; Bill's bed was only a few metres from her's, and Fred had practically guided her over like she was a fragile old lady crossing the road. She gestured to Harry and he leaned in closer.

"I need to get out of here by tomorrow morning; there's library research I need to finish before we leave Hogwarts," she whispered to him.

Harry rolled his eyes a little but nodded. Hermione stood up to dutifully sit back in her assigned bed; Ron, Harry and Ginny joined her.

"Madam Pomfrey thought it was the Imperius curse," Ginny said.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed, crossing her legs on her bed. "Weird how it doesn't show up in magical tests. My brain feels so fuzzy, you think they'd be able to show it."

"Wonder if it would show up on an MRI or something," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Seems unlikely. But who knows?" Hermione mused.

"MRI?" Ginny repeated.

"It's a muggle test to look at the brain, you can see damage on it," Harry replied.

"But Madam Pomfrey said you'd be ok, didn't she?" Ron asked, slightly nervously.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione said. "She said I just need rest. She's been dosing me up with Sleeping Potions."

"Should you be going to the library, then?" Harry asked, and Ron and Ginny snorted.

"Of course that's what you looked worried about. I'm surprised you've managed to stay away this long," Ron said.

"There is something else it would be good to check the library for, actually," Harry said, pulling a note out of his pocket and handing it to Hermione. "I need to know who this is," he said lowly.

Hermione read the note quickly, eyes widening, and nodded. "I'll do my best," she said, memorising the signed initials and handing it back to him. Ginny politely did not ask questions; Hermione assumed Harry had already shared this with Ron and he didn't know the thief's identity either.

"Did I miss anything today? I see Neville escaped," Hermione said, gesturing to where Neville had been in the ward.

"Some parents have come by and pulled their kids out already. Seamus fought with his mum about it, actually…"

Harry, Ron and Ginny described the students being whisked away from Hogwarts, and the swell of important witches and wizards pouring into Scotland for Dumbledore's funeral. The Prophet said a team of aurors were now hunting Snape, who had disappeared without a trace. Hermione wondered how the reception occurred at Malfoy manor, given Draco had only disarmed Dumbledore, not killed him. Her brain itched for her missing memories…

Madam Pomfrey showed up soon with dinner and potions, and they all promised her they would do their best to get her out of the hospital wing tomorrow morning. She surreptitiously tipped out most of the Sleeping Potion into the flowers Mrs Weasley had very kindly brought her, forced down as much dinner as she could to try and get the nurse on side for a discharge tomorrow morning, and passed out early, hoping to escape to the Charms classroom later that night.

Hermione had been sleeping so much (for a month, even) that it was easy to wake up the moment the potion wore off. She lay awake silently while Madam Pomfrey fussed around Bill and eventually went to bed, then cast her familiar set of Disillusioning, Notice-me-Not and Silencing Charms to creep out of the hospital wing.

The castle was quiet; the Ministry or Order evidently did not expect terror to strike twice so soon given how thin ground security seemed. It was easy to head to the western side of the castle, where the Charms classroom and her memories waited…

It felt strange to explore the castle alone. She had always done this with Harry and Ron, or with Draco. Hermione trailed an invisible finger along the window sill, feeling the cool stone under her finger. It already felt like a different life; sneaking a baby dragon into the castle with Harry under the Invisibility Cloak, stumbling around drunk on whiskey and lust with Draco after he charmed her on Valentines Day…

She reached Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom. "Alohomora," she whispered, and the classroom unlocked – Hermione could only assume Flitwick set the lock so simply as an encouraging challenge for first year students.

Why had Draco picked here? She inspected the desks along the end of the classroom, and found one coated in a gross, sticky substance soon enough. It smelt vaguely of citrus. Did that mean anything?

"Aparecium," she cast over the desk, sitting down to poke around inside it, a tell tale reverb shaking out from somewhere within it. It was hidden in the back of a locked drawer, in a small box enchanted to be the same colour as the desk wood.

Hermione breathed out slowly as she set it on the desk and opened it. There was a small bottle with a silvery gas inside; what she was looking for. The bottle gave off a shimmer as she touched it, releasing a ward that had been placed on it. She unscrewed the glass stopper and gathered the memories with her wand.

"Here goes," she whispered to herself, tilting her head towards the desk to make it easier to drag the memories over her temple. "Imprimiss."

Hermione gasped and dropped her wand with a shatter –

A breaking bottle, covering Draco in shattered green glass and spirits, and she ran away, trying and failing to withhold tears –

She was crying and he threw her shaking body onto a bed; the scent of bleach and whiskey as he ran his teeth across her throat, over and over –

An excited gasp at a good idea, hunched over a map with Draco, the evil cabinet looming over them –

A heaviness on Hermione's body as he threw his arms over her and leant on her, joking and ignoring her angry hissing as she failed to throw Draco off –

Watching Professor McGonagall lecture on advanced human transfiguration, and asking herself why she was sitting there, she needed to help him –

A mother's love, written so baldly it transcended society and blood madness –

Her hands seizing up in fury, spilling liquor all over the dark Charms classroom as Draco talked about Pansy Parkinson –

And then, the return of her missing memories shunting Imperiused dreams to the surface –

Saying "I can hold him up," as Ron pointed his wand at the dungeons on the Marauder's Map –

Grinning so happily at Harry and Ginny as they finally kissed in the infectious victory of the quidditch house cup –

Ron swearing and trembling, tipping droplets of gold from a tiny bottle into Ginny's open mouth –

Blankly retelling the story of Charlotte's Web amongst towers of broken objects as Draco considered the Vanishing Cabinet, wrinkles furrowed in his forehead and eyes lost in deep contemplation –

A thud as Snape ran past, yelling something at them as Professor Flitwick slumped over and Luna's head whipped round to watch him go, long blonde hair dancing –

Squaring her shoulders in anger as Harry said he could just tell the Half-Blood Prince was a guy –

Etching Harry knows into a silver bangle, and blinking as it flashed back; If there is anything you can help Potter with below the seventh floor do it NOW –

They all returned like a hundred birds, migrating from the bottle and the curse into the front of her mind, eventually shifting from rapid flight to stillness. She lay on the sticky desk, understanding now what it was coated in and why it smelled like limes. Her head was fit to burst, but her chest felt like it had caved in, no matter how hard she gasped for breath. He was gone. He had left her behind, in her impossible split loyalty. She missed Draco so much it felt physically wretched.

How was she going to cope without his hand taking hers, without his body draped over her own? Without seeing the trace of colour she could bring to his face with alcohol, and fighting, and kissing? How had she not realised that in the space of a few months, Draco had taken over all of her life? Hermione had looked to him more and more, every part of him catalogued and imprinted on her brain…

The stress that ran through his body like an electric current. His sneer that became softer in some ways and harsher in others over time when he disagreed with her. The uncomfortably attractive long fingers that made her almost as suggestible as his Imperius curse. The laugh he would do when completely lost in the haze of drugs or duelling, with his head thrown back.

How could Draco have told her he was falling more in love with her, and been so happy about it? For Hermione this was only a growing and infinite sadness, so much stronger than what she had described to him in the bath. Then, it was already an indefinite void. How could a universe become bigger?

Unpeeling herself from the sticky desk and wiping her face, she reached for her bangle, hands shaking from sobbing.

I think I have most of my memories back, she sent. But it feels like you ripped my heart out of my chest.

A long time ago, over sparkling wine and electricity, she had idly wondered whether a certain amount of flirting or sex might help her uncover some Death Eater secrets that would otherwise remain hidden. And when it did happen, she merely gave herself over to her hormones, pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to come and to forget with him. Like running down a hill. If the Hermione then could only know what she had done.

The bangle lit up.

Sometimes I wonder if I have it. You certainly have mine.

She knew Draco didn't understand that to leave Harry alone on his quest to destroy Voldemort was to die, to never be able to live with herself. How could people so different hold each others' hearts? It felt impossible.

You have it, Hermione sent back simply. She couldn't see any use in trying to explain it. They would never agree on this point.

There's a gift there for you too, he replied. She pushed herself fully off the desk and reached for the smaller box, and flicked it open.

It was a set of pearl ear cuffs; tiny rings of white stones that glowed in the dark with an enchanted sheen, connected with thin strings of rose gold chain. There was a piece of parchment in the box; it looked horribly fancy and detailed a charm to enchant them to your ears rather than pierce them. She turned it over, but there was only one sentence on the other side of the note:

For my mermaid.

Hermione's eyelids shuddered shut, but they did nothing to stop the tears continue streaming down her face.

Eventually, she opened her eyes and tried, with some difficulty, to reply.

They're too beautiful, she sent first. Draco, I can't bear this.

She was dehydrated and exhausted. There were no tears left to cry as he sent a series of replies, a short manifesto:

It's in your hands Hermione.

If you think I'm going to comfort you about your choice, you are sorely mistaken.

I hope we did fuck up our Vow. Maybe if we did we'll be fated to meet again.

Do your best not to die out there, Granger. I'll wait for you.