God, where can I begin. Angelina, if you're reading this, please know how grateful I am for your brilliant mind and ideas. Yeah I tell you everyday and I'll keep saying it! You make this story better, thicker, and actually enjoyable. Sometimes I wish you were my neighbor. You're the best (and first) Alpha I've ever had hahaha.

Enchanted4life and Wise_Owl26, you guys actually allow this story to be readable and coherent and well, that's one heck of a job. I would wash your feet with my hair if that could show the level of my gratitude

Hermione had spent the whole day in the library getting her parchments ready. She knew her weekends were going to be busier from now on, so she wanted to get ahead as much as possible. She headed to her dorm to drop off her materials before heading downstairs for dinner. When she entered through the portrait, she saw Draco on the sofa, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. Was he... crying?

She rushed over to him, putting down her books on the table and kneeling down to try to look at his face. He was sniffling softly, and his breathing was ragged.

"Draco, what's wrong?" she whispered, worried. She had never seen him cry before and she felt as if her world was collapsing.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said without revealing his face.

"What are you talking about?"

She put her hand on his arm tenderly and squeezed, trying to comfort him. Suddenly he lifted his head and took her hand, probing her with his eyes. His eyes were reddened, but soft and calm.

"Everything I did to you," he breathed hoarsely. "I was such a dick all these years..."

Hermione swallowed in surprise. She had not expected him to finally take this step. A tender smile stretched her lips and she took a seat beside him, still keeping her hand in his. She examined his blond locks, and the slimness of his clean-cut jaw, his broad shoulders...

Unsure of how he would react, she slid her hand over his shoulder. "I know, Draco," she whispered.

His gaze alternated between her two amber eyes, before dropping to her mouth. Hermione felt her heart quicken and she looked away. Then, against all odds, Draco pulled her to him and smothered her in a warm, muscular and... electrifying embrace. Every fibre of her body lit up and she buried her nose in his collarbone, taking deep breaths of his scent. The Slytherin put a hand on the back of her head and pressed her harder against him. Hermione held back a groan of relief. She wanted more, she wanted—

The Gryffindor opened her eyes sharply, sitting up on her bed in the darkness that hung over her room. Gasping, she gulped and realised that her mouth was dry. Silently, she got up and went to the bathroom to get a glass of water. The feeling of Draco's arms around her still caressed her and covered her with pleasant shivers.

She downed a glass of water and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her chest heaved with the rhythm of her breathing. She shook her head and closed her eyes to control her thoughts and breathing. She still felt like she could smell the Slytherin right under her nose. His wilderness and cotton scent…

She drank a second glass of water and put it back on the counter with a slam. She wished she hadn't woken up.

As soon as she woke up the next morning, Hermione looked at the letter she had received the day before. Immediately her heart sank at the thought of what she had to do. The image of her parents huddled together after Kingsley had come to tell them the horrible news flashed through her mind and she felt her eyes sting. She didn't know if she would be able to do it again. She needed someone else with her for this moment and she automatically thought of Draco, but she pushed the idea aside.

The stranger's letter had mentioned Draco, after all. So did Harry, Ron and Ginny. Perhaps she should bring Blaise, then? She couldn't bear the thought of putting her friends in danger, of risking his life... Why? Since when did she care so much about him? She recognised that Harry would be the better candidate to accompany her. He had a lot of composure and was able to act in difficult situations, and besides, she felt like he knew her since forever. Not to mention that her parents had met him before. She would ask him today.

Hermione walked over to her dresser and opened a drawer. She dug out her beaded handbag and grabbed her wallet. She counted out all her money. She would give all of it to her parents. She would tell them that she was offering them another trip away from here, maybe even to Canada. Her father had always wanted to see Alberta.

Still shaking, she gathered her belongings to take a shower. On the other side of her partner's door, she could hear him puffing and blowing. She had guessed weeks ago that he had started training in the morning. Her cheeks grew hot as she thought of his shapely naked torso, his swollen arms straining under the exercises, and she imagined burying her face in his collarbone, just as she had done in her dream.

She ran off to the shower, and took it lukewarm, just to think about something else and get her bearings. When she came out, she got dressed in her room. Another day of classes. She heard the shower running again.

A few minutes later, the two Heads were putting on their badges in an almost synchronized movement.

"How... did you sleep?" Draco asked awkwardly, looking up at her.

She shrugged, but said nothing, feeling the red flush in her cheeks. She certainly wasn't going to tell him about her dream. "What about you? she retorted.

He looked away. "Fine, I guess. Have you made up your mind about... your parents?"

Hermione picked up her books and tucked a lock of hair behind her ears, suddenly embarrassed. The Slytherin finished fastening his badge and looked at her for a long moment. Her face was pale again and her eyes were small. She was obviously preoccupied, and Draco sighed. Not angry at her, but at what was happening. At whoever had sent that letter. At the choices she was now exposed to.

"I promise I'll tell you all about it when I get back..." she said, biting her lip.

He frowned, quickly dissatisfied with what he was about to hear. He asked anyway. "What do you mean?"

"I'll ask Harry to join me..."

Draco picked up his books as well and tucked them under his arm, standing in front of her. He clenched his jaw, but forbade himself from getting angry with her. This wasn't what she needed.

"Can I ask why Potter?" Again, he felt left out, and it was a feeling that annoyed him to no end. He was almost pleased to see the Lioness' discomfort.

"Harry knows my parents, and they know him..." she admitted. "And he's always been... very adequate in situations like this."

"Does he know how to protect you?" Draco sniffed.

"He' s very skilled, and you know it!" she sighed. "He defeated Voldemort and fought many Death Eaters, you know that... I'm safe with him."

The Slytherin said nothing and started walking towards the portrait. He wasn't stupid, he understood why Hermione preferred to have Saint Potter as her lapdog. But hadn't he himself already demonstrated in many ways that he too wanted to look after her, even better, protect her? Since when was he not bothered anymore to show it or even admit it? Stop fighting it, Hermione had told him once. He realised, with a weird amazement, that he had indeed stopped fighting it since she had asked him to.

She rushed up behind him and grabbed his wrist to hold him back. "Draco, don't be hurt..." she begged.

He didn't pull away and gave a mysterious grin. "I'm not hurt, Granger."

Hermione kept her hand on his wrist and almost wanted to hold his hand, just as she had done in Penshaw.

"I just want to go everywhere you go to make sure nothing goes wrong," he said. "It's my way of feeling in control. I don't like being second."

"But you're not sec—"

"Let's go to class, Granger, it's time."

He removed his wrist and left the dorm.

Harry had agreed, obviously. And he was free on Saturday. So they had concluded their plan. Hermione had told McGonagall that they would leave. Blaise had come to see Hermione alone to confront her about the letter she had received. Of course, Draco was telling him everything that was happening. She had shown him the letter, and later that day, she had shown it to her friends. Blaise had automatically started asking questions that popped into his head. He had even admitted that he was no longer sure they were chasing the same thief as his mother's.

"So, someone you've never met either killed your brother, stole from him, or cursed several people to attack you? How can you be sure that this is the truth? What if it's fucking a lie to make you lose your mind again? How can he know who you hang out with if he has never met you?"

Hermione's eyes had begun to mist up under the multiplication of his questions, so he had fallen silent.

"I have to go and alter my parents' memories," she had said.

And Blaise had hugged her warmly. "That' s truly awful for you, I can't even imagine." As he had pulled her away from him and examined her, he winked at her. "But I promise to keep an eye on Draco until you get back!"

Hermione had offered him a slight smile.

"Can I ask you," he continued, "if anything unusual happened when you read this letter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something around you that…shifted, or moved suddenly, maybe?"

Hermione had blinked, puzzled. "There was a gust of wind, if I remember. But the window was open..."

"Were you alone?"

The Gryffindor had frowned. "Draco was there, he had just finished reading it."

Blaise nodded.

"Where is this coming from?" Hermione had asked.

"Doesn't matter right now. Don't think about it."

The Slytherin had decided to have a chat with a certain pretty redheaded Gryffindor as soon as possible.

On Saturday, November 14th, Harry and Hermione had gone to the Gringotts Bank to exchange the wizarding money for Muggle money, and Harry had even given her some of his own. The whole thing was a small fortune now. Then they'd gone back to Hogsmeade, wrapped up tight in their scarves. The Lioness had all the Muggle money in her satchel, held close to her. They had spoken very little. The tension was palpable. Hermione couldn't stop shaking. She didn't want to imagine the moment when she would have to raise her wand at them to alter their memories, again.

"Ready?" Harry asked, holding out his hand to her as they reached the apparition point.

"No," she said before taking his hand.

She apparated and they arrived in Hampstead, on Main Street. As soon as she saw her house, an enormous weight pressed down on her stomach and cold sweat began to bead on her forehead. She was pinned to the spot. Harry held out his arm, and she slipped her hand under it.

"It has to be done," he said softly. "I'm so sorry…"

They walked together towards his house and up the few steps to the front porch. Hermione turned the handle to enter — it was her home after all —, but it was locked. So she knocked. Her head was swarming with a thousand and one thoughts and emotions.

Her mother opened the door and didn't seem surprised at all. Hermione noticed that her face was dark, even more pale and sunken than when she had left her in September.

"Yes?" asked Jane, her eyes alternating between Harry and Hermione.

The Lioness opened her mouth, but then closed it quickly. Harry, on the other hand, understood the situation immediately.

"Can I help you?" continued Jane at the lack of response.

Hermione's breath left her in a rush. Shocked, she didn't know what to say and pressed her hand against Harry's arm, who reacted quickly.

"Good morning Madam!" he said, masking his confusion. "I don't know if you recognise us, my name is Harry Potter."

Harry called himself a fool. Jane's face relaxed and she flashed a pleasant smile that didn't reach her dead eyes. "Oh! Of course! Can I... can I offer you some tea?"

Hermione cleared her throat and blinked several times. How she wished she could have hugged her mother, right there on the doorstep, and smelled her motherly scent of spices and washing powder.

"Of course, Mu... Madam," she agreed.

Jane let them in and went straight to the kitchen. "Philipp!" she called out. "We have guests!"

Hermione felt like crying and held Harry behind by the arm while Jane was walking away. She looked into his eyes in panic. "I... I can't do this, Harry," she whispered, almost wailing. "They... I'm sure that... that the culprit has already been here..."

"You have to send them away anyway," he said in a low voice, looking sad. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe it."

They followed Jane into the kitchen and soon Philipp appeared. He was even thinner than when Hermione had seen him. She held back a gasp and swallowed her sobs. All she wanted to do was leap at their necks and cry her heart out against them. She straightened her back and took her place at the table. Jane put a kettle on the fire.

"Hello," Philipp greeted, his eyes fixed on Harry. "I recognise you!"

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say.

"You were friends with our boy at school," Philipp continued. "How nice of you to come by."

Harry blinked and put his thoughts together. He had to be careful with what he had to say. If Hermione's father was using the past tense to refer to their son, it meant that Philipp was still aware that he was... dead.

"Y... Yes," he said. "He was a remarkable man. We all miss him."

Jane smiled sadly and placed small china cups in front of them. Hermione looked at her mother, watching her come and go in the kitchen, her heart beating too fast.

"Forgive me," Philipp smiled, "I forget my manners. "You are?" He leaned over to Hermione and held out his hand. She bit her lip and mustered up all her willpower to raise her hand and shake her father's hand.

"Penelope," she said in a fragile voice.

"My fiancée," added Harry.

"Pleased to meet you," Philipp greeted.

"Welcome, Penelope," Jane said as she removed the whistling kettle.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Hermione breathed.

"Thank you," Jane replied, pouring the tea into their respective cups. "So you've heard about our daughter too?"

The brunette's heart leapt in her chest and she nearly spilled her tea. What about their daughter? Harry gave her a sidelong glance and took her hand.

"Your... Your daughter?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Yes, our little Erica," said Jane. "She's..."

Hermione's mother cleared her throat and put the kettle down, suddenly shaking. She leaned on the counter and her husband came up behind her to squeeze her shoulders.

"I'm really sorry," Philipp blurted out to them. "It's recent. We're... adjusting."

Hermione ran her tongue over her lips which were becoming dry. Erica?

"I'm extremely sorry," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't know."

Jane nodded and wiped her glistening eyes. She recomposed her face and took a seat at the table. "She died a few weeks after her brother. She… killed herself."

Harry put pressure on Hermione's hand. The Lioness felt her skull about to explode from all the emotions and thoughts that were crashing down on her. Her parents' eyes were dull, almost empty, and her mother was visibly fighting back tears in front of 'strangers'.

"What a horrible story..." Hermione squeaked.

She couldn't say more. Slowly she came to her senses and remembered the main reason she had come. She had to make them leave. "We came because we had something to offer you," she announced, taking the money envelope out of her handbag. "We know how… very hard… these times must be for you..."

Her parents looked surprised and held hands between their cups of tea. Hermione placed the envelope on the table and pushed it gently towards them. She knew that her parents were not going to accept a sum of money from two 'strangers' who had come to wish them condolences.

"We found this money hidden in a book," she improvised. "And we thought we'd give it to you so you could take a little trip. Maybe visit Canada. I've heard great things about that place..."

Philipp's eyes lit up for a moment. "I've always wanted to see Alberta…" he murmured.

"I kno—" Hermione started before stopping short. "Yes, it's lovely there."

Jane clamped her hand over her mouth to hide her emotion. Soon she shook her head, letting her tears flow freely. Her husband put an arm around her shoulders and rubbed warmly. His eyes were shining with tears too.

"I wish I could tell you that we should refuse," he said, "but we... I think we really need this—" His voice broke and he sniffed.

Hermione blinked several times to chase away the tears that were just waiting to fall. Her fingers were trembling.

"Thank you..." Jane breathed, wiping away her tears. "Thank you, thank you..."

"It's a real pleasure," said Harry. "Don't worry about it. Go as long as you can."

Philipp stood up, followed by Jane. Harry and Hermione did the same. Philipp hugged Harry warmly, and Jane came to Hermione. Her mother hugged her tenderly in gratitude. The brunette had experienced this embrace hundreds of times before, but never as a stranger.

"Thank you... Thank you, Penelope…"

Hermione clung to her, breathing in her familiar scent. She wanted to shout to them that she was there. That she was not dead. That they were not alone. She would have stayed to cook her mum her favourite dish. She would have stayed to watch a movie with her. She would have stayed to go shopping in Muggle shops and try on hats that were too extravagant. The embrace ended too soon. Hermione felt the cold replace her mother's body in all the spots where they had touched.

Next, it was her father who came to gently plant a kiss on both her cheeks. He always did that with strangers. Hermione took advantage of the brief closeness to soak up the scent of his cologne that she knew so well and that she knew was in a vial above the bathroom sink.

"We are very grateful," Philipp thanked her, giving Harry's hand one last squeeze.

They did not linger. They finished their tea quickly, and Harry kept the conversation going himself. Then he took his 'fiancée's' hand again to signal their goodbye. Hermione's parents thanked them again, very moved, and the two Gryffindors left.

Once outside, Hermione transported them to Hogsmeade. As soon as they were in the village, Hermione burst into tears, completely broken, and collapsed into the arms of her friend, who hugged her as hard as he could, also very upset.

That Saturday, while Harry and Hermione were gone, Blaise had finally found Ginny, who was reading the Daily Prophet in the Great Hall.

"Hello, Ginger!" he smiled as he took a seat opposite her.

She looked up from the paper and crossed her arms on the table, giving him a warm smile. She was... pleasantly surprised by his appearance.

"Good morning to you," she replied.

"There's something we need to talk about."

Ginny leaned forward slightly, suddenly alert. "Something's happened?"

"Apart from the usual fucking drama, no. "It's just—" Blaise pursed his lips. He wasn't sure how best to tackle the subject. Nevertheless, he launched into it, opting for complete frankness. "Things have started to happen around Hermione when she's under strong emotions."

Ginny frowned. "What... things?"

"As if her magic was acting out of its own. Like she's losing control."

"Ah!" exclaimed Ron who had just arrived in the Great Hall. "There you are!" He dropped heavily beside Ginny and nodded in Blaise's direction. Ron had grown to tolerate him. Neither Blaise nor Ginny opened their mouths, but the Slytherin stared at the newcomer.

"What?" cried Ron. "Why are you looking at me like that, Zabini?"

"We were having a discussion."

"Okay... Was it... secret?"

"Well—" Blaise began.

"Blaise, I think we can tell him," Ginny admitted. "It's Ron. He's her best friend."

Blaise rolled his eyes but said nothing. It didn't matter, in the end.

Ginny looked at her brother. "Blaise had just told me that strange things happen around Hermione when she experiences strong emotions, as if her magic is acting out of its own accord. And I was going to tell him that's impossible," she said, turning her attention back to Blaise. "Hermione has never lost control of her magic. And believe me, she's been through some horrible things. Her magic has never started to act on its own. She's an extraordinary witch; she has the greatest control over what she does."

Blaise smiled. And Ron frowned.

"That's what I wanted to confirm... anyway, I only have told you what Draco believes."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was Draco who confided in me that he noticed strange things happening around Hermione. I just don't think he realised that he's always been present when these things happen too..."

Ron widened his eyes and looked around before leaning a little closer to Blaise, as if in complete confidentiality. "Are you saying that Malfoy is losing control of his magic?"

Blaise nodded. "That bloody Malfoy either doesn't know it himself, or refuses to acknowledge that it's him..."

"How can you be sure it's his?" asked Ginny.

"Every time an episode of magic has happened, Draco was around. It even happened after Hermione's potion exploded and she left for the infirmary. Draco was so worried and out of his mind that his chair fell over."

"Yeah, I remember that," Ron nodded.

"So you think Malfoy's magic is escaping because..." Ginny prodded.

The Slytherin looked into her blue eyes. Her smile grew more sarcastic. "Come on, you know that one, Ginger... You're a clever one."

"Are you talking about him worrying about Hermione?"

"More than that, I dare say. But, essentially, yes. He gets so angry and worried when something happens to her that his emotions manage to sneak into his magic and act on their own."

"So, it's emotions disguised as magic," Ginny frowned.

"Bloody hell," Ron grumbled. "He's got to control that! Imagine if he hurt her! Why doesn't it happen to us? Why him?"

"We've got to keep an eye on him. But first, we need to help him. He has to realise that it's his magic, not hers. Malfoy is a very experienced wizard… Hell, he's stronger than me. He knows stuff that only the Dark Lord taught his dearest followers. He never learned how to be in touch with his fucking emotions. He never allowed himself to feel too much. So I guess the moment he starts feeling something intense... he loses control."

"What the fu—" Ron started.

"He'll never believe us," said Ginny.

"Not if he has proof..."

At that moment, as if by some spell, Draco was coming down the stairs in the distance and heading towards them. Blaise mimed to the Gryffindors his fingers closed over his lips to imply silence. The beautiful redhead took the Daily Prophet back into her fingers and Ron shifted his position.

"Fucking weird sight," Draco said as he spotted the three of them at the same table.

He hadn't been able to concentrate all day on his own stuff. He kept picturing his partner waving her wand at her parents to alter their memory. He had no trouble forgetting his father who was in Azkaban, but he would never have the strength to look his mother in the eye and alter her memories of him. To take his mind off of things until Hermione and Potter returned, he just wanted to hang out with Blaise, but Blaise, it seemed, was now hanging out with the fucking Von Trapp Freckle family.

He found the table strangely silent. He took a seat next to Blaise. "You can talk, for fuck's sake, I'm not Filch after midnight."

"I think we're all wondering if it went well," Blaise said.

Draco's leg jerked in a frantic motion. Even seated with them, he kept turning his head towards the Great Hall's entrance, hoping to see his Gryffindor appear. It was almost dinner time. He couldn't imagine that doing a spell could take hours...

After five minutes of no one saying anything, Draco heard the castle doors open. He saw, from a distance, the figure of Hermione rushing up the stairs. Seconds later, Harry appeared in the Great Hall, having spotted them with a simple turn of his head. He walked briskly over to them. The blonde boy leapt to his feet, knocking his knee under the table, and came to stand before Potter, right at the end of the table where everyone was sitting.

"Is everything all right?" Draco asked quickly, his tone hard and urgent.

He noticed at once that Potter's eyes were red. Potter took a step back and shook his head, as if he couldn't speak. Ginny stood up and walked over to him. Harry had been... crying? Draco's face dropped in a flash, witnessing Potter's obvious confusion. An icy hand grabbed his gut and squeezed hard. He didn't want to waste another second. Not knowing if Harry would talk, he ran for the stairs. He had a mental image of his partner losing her mind in the dorm, completely alone. He couldn't leave her alone.

"Harry?" whispered Ginny, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"It was... It was already done," he said in a broken voice. "Someone had already been there. It was him. The one who wrote the letter did it, for sure. They didn't recognise her... And they think their two children are dead. They're grieving a death that never happened..."

Ginny opened her mouth, horrified, but no sound came out. Blaise was wordless, dumbfounded. Ron clasped his hands in his lap and clenched furiously, looking distressed with disbelief.

"Potter, tell me one thing..." Blaise breathed at last, his eyes fixed on the Gryffindor. "Did... did something weird happen? A burst of mysterious magic, something that moved or fell by itself?"

Harry, confused by this question, thought very quickly and shook his head. "No... No, nothing at all."

"Fucking knew it..." Blaise murmured, pressing his forehead into his palm.

Draco, for his part, climbed all the stairs two at a time and arrived completely out of breath at his dormitory. He rushed in, panting, and looked for her. Before he could spot her, he heard her crying. Oh, fuck, he thought. The sound of her sobbing was the sound he dreaded and hated the most now. He didn't know since when. She was sitting on the sofa with her arms over her belly, leaning over her lap. She was cradling herself.

He rushed to her and knelt down in front of her. He put a hand on her knee and gently shook it. "Granger..." he whispered. "I'm here."

She continued to cry painfully. She couldn't stop. She kept replaying this episode. Her father holding out his hand to ask her name. Her mother hugging her and whispering a name that was not hers. She had come to do exactly what had already been done, but she would never have stayed to witness what it would be like to talk with them if they had no memory of her.

"Please tell me what happened…"

For a second, her tear-filled eyes landed squarely on him, and her sobs deepened. Draco placed his hand on her forearm. "Please, Hermione…"

He needed to know if she had succeeded in altering her parents' memories, and if anything else had happened. Had she hurt herself? He roughly examined all her limbs to make sure she wasn't injured, but he couldn't see anything.

"It was..." she began, her voice trembling, "I didn't do it."

Draco pursed his lips. So she hadn't had the courage to do it after all? He wasn't surprised, he knew it must be very painful, but why hadn't fucking Potter done it instead?

"You can try again soon," he said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

She shook her head and tried to regain composure. She looked back into her partner's eyes. How she wished she could have hugged her mother and father and let them know it was her. Their Hermione. That they had never had an Erica who had killed herself. That they didn't need to grieve for a daughter that was never born. She clenched her fists. Whoever had sent her that horrible letter had played with her parents' minds and had enjoyed bringing them more misery.

"No!" she exclaimed, angrily running her palms against her cheeks. "Somebody had already altered their memories!" More hot tears rolled down her cheeks, but she wiped them away as she went. "My mother opened the door to a complete stranger. Of course they knew Harry, but not me! And they told us they were grieving for two children! I couldn't... I couldn't hug my dad. I couldn't tell my mother that I loved her. I was Hermione, Penelope and Erica all at once!"

Draco lowered his head and closed his eyes, feeling deep disturbance stirring inside. Why did one cruel thing after another keep happening to her? It shouldn't have happened. They were one step behind this stranger who tormented her. He wanted the Lioness to take up arms, roll up her sleeves, and hunt down this monster to make him fucking pay.

"Shit..." He gritted his teeth as he stood up. "If your parents weren't stupid Muggles, they could have defended themselves! Bloody hell!"

He was actually angry that he hadn't been able to do anything to prevent this situation, but Hermione jumped to her feet, her face red.

"This has nothing to do with the fact that they're Muggles!" she shouted, her fists clenching

"I'm not accusing them!" he argued, raising his voice. "But you can't deny that wizards defend themselves better than Muggles!"

Hermione knew he was right, but she was outraged that her partner would dare say that to her in this situation. "Stop it!" she shouted. "It doesn't matter!"

"You have to fight, Hermione! You can't let him get the upper hand!"

"HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KNOW WHAT HE'S GOING TO DO!"

"You can cry for a while, but then you have to lift your chin up! He won't get away with it!"

"SHUT UP, DRACO!"

"IT'S TRUE, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

"MY PARENTS ARE NOT JUST STUPID MUGGLES!"

"But they're not brilliant wizards either!"

"BUT I AM! I'm a very talented witch because I've worked DAYS AND NIGHTS for six years to prove you wrong!"

Draco frowned and stood still. "What?"

"YOU'RE THE REASON I BECAME SO GREAT! ALL THE NAMES YOU CALLED ME, AND THAT BLOODY 'MUDBLOOD'... I worked to make sure I never gave anyone a fucking reason to say I didn't deserve my magic! I. DESERVE. IT."

The Slytherin had no idea how the subject of Mudbloods had come up, but he bit his tongue, blood pounding at his temples. He was surprised her magic hadn't started to act out under all the fury he'd unleashed on her, on top of what she'd been through with her parents.

"AND MY PARENTS ARE NOT STUPID!" she snapped, pointing at him, more tears blurring her eyes. "IF THEY WERE, THEY WOULDN'T HAVE CREATED A WITCH AS STRONG AND INTELLIGENT AS ME. Don't you dare talk about them like that!"

She spun around and rushed towards the portrait. She needed to leave the room and go somewhere else, anywhere, away from him. She didn't think Draco had meant to be nasty to her, but he had definitely made an inappropriate comment about her parents and she couldn't accept it right now.

Draco, on the other hand, leapt after her and caught her just before she opened the portrait. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. Her back was to the wall. Immediately he took her in his arms, stroking his hand through the exhilarating cascade of her hair. Hermione stiffened, dumbfounded, but soon she was absorbed by the magnificent sensation of warmth that covered her from head to toe. Her knees shook.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, running his nose through her hair. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's not... I didn't mean it like that. They're not stupid."

Hermione took a few breaths and surrendered to the embrace, unable to resist it or pull away. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his shirt. She let her silent tears run down his chest and her sobs began again, more quietly.

"I'm not just a Mudblood," she whispered between sobs.

Draco could feel her trembling against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head, revelling in this proximity which he had perceived as so repulsive. His heart was beating fast, and his stomach was churning with thousands of tiny tingles of tension. The truth was that he had never experienced anything so good and comfortable.

"I know," he said. "This is not what I think."

"Not anymore?" she asked against him.

He closed his eyes. Yes, she still had her Muggle-born status, but when he'd heard her speak earlier, he'd realised that it didn't make sense to deserve magic or not. The wizarding world didn't work on deserving principles. It was what a person did with their magic that mattered. And he couldn't deny that Hermione had accomplished so much, probably more than he had, and mastered it all...

"No one deserves it," he declared. "That's not what magic is about."

"You know, you can't just give hugs and expect to be forgiven."

Draco knew at once that her mood had changed. He smiled, but kept his grip tight. He tightened his arms around her shoulders, and one of his hands wrapped around her waist, making him shiver with sensations he'd never felt before.

"Okay... but does it work?" he asked, smartly.

Hermione was silent for a few seconds. A delightful prickle pulsed in her lower abdomen. She had never been hugged by a man like Draco was doing right now. She relished the feeling of his body pressed against hers with an intimacy they had never shared before.

"Kinda," she croaked.

"Maybe I'm doing it wrong, then," he teased.

She finally stepped back from him, almost reluctantly, and gave him a friendly nudge on the shoulder. She had calmed down drastically. Her cheeks were flushed and her insides were churning with anticipation. If she could, she might have grabbed his hair and leaned into...

She cleared her throat and started to move towards the sofa, but Draco grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back into his arms. He hadn't had enough. He didn't know which of the two of them needed that embrace more. It wasn't a matter of deserving... But if it was… It was the first time he'd been this close to someone and felt so much.

"What are you—" she began to ask.

He looked into her eyes. He had never really realised how soft and warm her eyes were, like liquid honey. He had always thought of brown eyes as boring and very plain, but there was something about Hermione's that drew him in. Her eyes were still red and her face a little puffy from crying, but he thought she was divinely beautiful at the moment. If it was... she deserved it, her magic. His gaze dropped to her lips. An incomparable thought crossed his mind. If he kissed her, would she like his kiss or would she pull away? Was there only one way to find out?

He slowly leaned towards her, unsure if she would slap him, but she remained still. Her eyes widened, fixed on his mouth, but she didn't pull back, lips parted. Nervous and still hesitant, he moved a little closer to her. She deserves everything. Hermione's nails dug into his shoulders and Draco quivered with pleasure.

Just before their lips met, someone knocked on the portrait. Both Heads jumped and broke their embrace in confusion. The Slytherin felt like casting a spell across the room to pierce the portrait and hit whoever had interrupted them. Hermione shook her head to shake off the magic of the moment and cleared her throat. She went to open the door as Draco stood there.

It was Ginny. The redhead threw herself into her friend's arms as soon as she saw her. "I wanted to see how you were doing," Ginny whispered. "I'm so sorry, Hermione…"

For interrupting us or for what happened to Hermione's parents? Draco thought sarcastically, suddenly cranky.

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love."

Washington Irving

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Wanted to write that last scene for so long and my Alpha helped so much in making it better! AHH! One question for you readers: What do you think so far ? :)

P.s. - For all of you guys who knows that Ginny has BROWN eyes (according to the books), I'm sorry if you're bothered by the fact that she has blue eyes in my story. I actually like Bonne Wright a lot and her eyes are beautiful. That's exactly how I imagine my Ginny.

Love, as always

Axioma