Thank you for joining me in Chapter 23. I've poured my heart into this chapter and special thanks to my alpha Angelina who helped me with idea, as always, and helping tying everything up together. I find important to thank you, readers, for following this story chapter after chapter. This work is imperfect but I enjoy writing it. Please feel free to review or leave kudos as a special little something that I can wake up to in the morning.

Hope you have a great day so far, X

Axiomea

Flashback.

The Muggle school yard was very large and many children were running around screaming with smiles on their faces. It was the last day of the school year. More secluded were the older children in Grade 10 to 12. School bags and lunches were strewn here and there on the ground. Leaning against a wall, little Hermione Granger, no older than eight, watched her classmates have fun. She was excited because today she would finally see her brother back from Magic School. He had completed his second year.

Her stomach growled with hunger and she bent down to pick up an apple from her bag. She looked at it longingly, but just before she bit into it, someone snatched it away.

"Stop it!" she cried in her small, childish voice.

Watching a big boy bite into her apple, she felt tears sting her eyes from the unfairness of it.

"Thank you!" laughed the boy. "I was hungry!"

She clenched her little fists and looked around, looking for help. This was the third time this boy was bothering her.

"We don't touch what's not ours!"

"Oh, really?" he said. He turned the apple over between his fingers, eyebrows raised. "Your name isn't written on it."

"Give it back!"

She leapt at him, but he effortlessly pushed her away. His arm gesture was strong enough to make her fall back to the ground. Of course, he didn't want to hurt her. He just wanted to have fun. Watching her little eyes fill with tears gave him a satisfying feeling.

Hermione stood up, fists clenched harder. The boy laughed as he bit into the apple in front of her eyes.

"You look strange," he laughed. "You and your big teeth!"

"That's enough, Matthew!" exclaimed someone behind the boy. "Stop it, for God's sake!"

Matthew turned and looked Samuel Granger in the eye. Sam was twelve years old and older than him. Taller, stronger. He carried a bag over his shoulder and had an annoyed look on his face. He slowly approached Matthew, walked around him and stood in front of his sister. Hermione said nothing more.

"Why are you bothering her?" sighed Sam. "She hasn't done anything to you, I'm sure of that!"

"Leave me alone, Sam," Matthew retorted. "Let her defend herself, I wasn't harming her!"

"Don't you even dare touch her," He said in such a serious tone that Matthew lost his confidence. His mocking features quietly faded and he looked at the apple with an evil eye. He took a step to the side and glared at Hermione, who was glaring back at him.

"Apologise," Sam ordered.

"Ugh, fine," sighed Matthew. He turned to Hermione with a sarcastic smile on his face. "I'm sorry," he said.

He turned quickly on his heels. Sam sighed, turned and knelt down in front of a sulking Hermione. He pulled his bag over his head and placed it on the floor.

"Stop sulking, Herm," he said. "I'm back!"

"I... I hate being too small to defend myself! I want to be a wizard like you! I want my wand.

Sam smiled. "You will, I'm sure. Come on, give me a smile."

Hermione took a breath and her lips stretched gently. Five minutes later she had already forgotten about Matthew and was asking her brother a thousand and one questions about his classes. He agreed to let her read his books, which she devoured one after the other as he finished his year. She was already able to understand many concepts and was already accumulating a lot of information in her bright little head. Sam was extremely proud that she was his sister.

The first face she wanted to see was his. She had promised to tell him everything when she returned, and that was exactly what she needed and wanted. The more she felt lost, the more she needed to immerse herself in his firm and stable presence. He helped her stay grounded in reality and managed to create their own little world in which she felt comfortable. Harry and Ron would be in charge of telling Ginny about the events, and Blaise would be told either by her, Ginny or Draco.

Would he allow her to get close to him? To hug him? Just the memory of his arms around her drove away her shaking confusion. Why was her whole body calling out to him when she was confused? She was losing her mind and she didn't want to do anything irrational. Above all, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. After all, she had intercepted a spell for him. How on Earth did he interpret that?

She had transfigured the new watch she had bought and stuffed it into her beaded handbag, along with Angela's diary. They had arrived just in time for dinner. Instinctively, she looked around for her partner, but could not find him anywhere in the Great Hall. Blaise wasn't there either.

Ginny had reserved seats for them slightly apart from the other Gryffindors. Her face lit up when she saw them. "You don't know how eager I am," she said. No, not eager. Starving. To know what happened, I mean."

She leaned over to Hermione to give her a hug and asked her how she was. The brunette wasn't sure what to say in order to be as honest as possible. Neither good nor bad. She wanted to see Draco. He would know what to think, wouldn't he?

"I think Hermione needs some time to think," said Harry, taking a seat opposite Ginny. "I'll tell you all about it."

Harry and Ron told everything to Ginny, who listened in respectful, thirsty silence. Hermione, chin in palm, stared blankly at the Slytherin table. Where the hell was he? She didn't care if she told him anything now, she just wanted to see him. She turned to Ginny.

"Didn't Draco come to eat?"

Ginny's movements slowed as she gave him a sorry look. "I... don't know Malfoy's whereabouts, sorry…"

Hermione stood up from the table. "I'm sorry guys, I have to go. I just... I really need to see him." She left the Great Hall and her friends watched her go, Ron's spoon dangling just in front of his mouth.

"Is she serious?" he grumbled.

Ginny glared at him, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "Tell me, Ron, is your problem with Malfoy because he's a Slytherin and she's a Gryffindor and they are supposed to hate each other? Not all Slytherins are hateful! You have to stop lumping them all together."

Harry pursed his lips and remained silent. Ron snapped. "No! It's because it's Malfoy! I don't care about the others."

"Can't you read between the lines?" sighed his sister. "Merlin, it's so obvious!"

Harry patted his friend on the shoulder. "Even I can read between the lines."

.

Hermione dashed off to her dorm. If Draco wasn't hungry, then he probably hadn't come downstairs and was in the common room reading. She would find him. Once in her dorm, out of breath, she threw her coat and scarf on the table without bothering to put them away, and called out his name. Nothing. She remembered him having afternoon tea with his mother, but it had been hours now. Outside, the sky was darkening, but still coloured by an array of warm hues. He was supposed to be back. He had wanted so much to accompany her, and he could not wait for her to come back so that she could tell him all the details. What was he playing at? Was he doing it on purpose?

She sighed in frustration and left the dormitory. She walked randomly through the corridors, hoping at every turn to see him appear. As the minutes passed, a sour anxiety grew inside her. The threatening words of the letter bounced around in her head. I know what's dear to you. A blonde Pureblood, I hear?

She pushed her silly thoughts aside and walked past the infirmary. Pointing her head through the doorway so as not to disturb the sick, she examined the room with a circular gaze. Nothing. She tried to think and decided to check the Owlery.

About ten minutes later she climbed the stairs, ignoring the discomfort she felt as she faced the window again where she had stood that night back in September. It seemed so long ago now. Draco wasn't here. Nor was Blaise, for that matter. Her heart pounded against her chest and she pursed her lips to control her breath through her nose. He was out there somewhere. No one could just disappear like that. She moved closer to the window so that she could see the rest of the castle, the Quidditch field, the outer grounds and part of the Black Lake. She breathed in the fresh air and let the wind play in her hair. I know what's dear to you. She shivered.

A faint sound of voices came to her ears and she strained her ears, listening. Trying to determine where she had heard the noise from, her gaze darted from right to left under the window. She was beginning to think that the wind had played a trick on her when she heard another sound, then laughter, very distant. Squinting, she finally saw two small black figures in the sky above the Quidditch field. Echoes of voices, muffled by the distance, floated up to her. She would know his voice among a thousand others. He was flying with Blaise above the Quidditch field.

Not thinking about it any longer, she rushed down the stairs and ran as fast as she could. She rushed outside and ignored the cold evening air biting her cheeks and fingers. Stopping for ten seconds to catch her breath, hands on her knees, she wiped her wet nose with the end of her sleeve before running again.

When she was close enough, she could make out both of their shapes flying rapidly around, doing all sorts of tricks with their brooms. They were exchanging exclamations, laughter, and a few words she couldn't make out yet.

"DRACO!" she called out.

He didn't hear her, still too far away and too high. She growled and ran towards the stands to enter the field directly. She called him out again and bent down to catch her breath, panting. One of the figures stopped dead in its tracks and swooped down towards her.

Draco landed, followed by Blaise a few seconds later. He wasn't wearing Quidditch clothes, neither of them, just formal, warmer clothes and a cloak. Draco's hair was tousled by the wind and his eyes were bright with enjoyment. As soon as he saw her, a huge wave of relief washed over him. He rushed over to greet her, glad to see her at last, but she had an accusing look on her face.

Hermione raised her arms to the sky once he was in front of her and didn't even glance at Blaise. "You've been here all this time?"

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "I've been looking for you everywhere, Draco!" she continued, her voice rising a little higher. "You can't just disappear! It's getting late!"

"And good evening to you too, Mia," Blaise said.

She ignored him. After realizing that one, she wasn't in tears, and two, something bad had not happened, Draco allowed himself to relax. "Granger, I just spent an hour with Blaise here. You were gone."

Hermione grumbled, but didn't know what to say. She finally crossed her arms over her chest, as if sulking. "Well I... After the letter, I just didn't want to imagine…" She sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. You're right."

"What does a wizard have to do to get a hello around here?" cut in Blaise.

"Good evening, Blaise," the Gryffindor finally blurted out, looking up at him. "Sorry, I was rude."

"Oh, I don't care about that, you can talk to him in any tone you like. I just wanted a greeting."

Draco did not take his eyes off his partner. She had a troubled look in her eyes and kept playing over her teeth with her tongue, fidgeting from one foot to the other. Something was bothering her. He took a step towards her, his broom clutched in his left hand.

"You came to talk to me, didn't you?" he guessed. "There's something going on."

She nodded stiffly. Quickly forgetting the worry that had driven her to seek out the castle, she wondered now how he would react if she took a step towards him too. If she could reach out and take his hand, and perhaps... Would he still want to touch a Muggle-born? If someone asked him, would he answer that she was his friend? Hermione locked her longings in a corner of her mind and focused on the softness of his grey eyes. It had been a long time since she had detected any scorn or arrogance in them. The quietness of his eyes anchored her in a timeless reality.

"Sorry to break up this exchange of glances which I'm sure is very meaningful," Blaise said after a moment, "but can I stay and find out, too?"

Hermione blinked and looked at Blaise, who was staring at her mischievously. "Of course! You're part of the team too."

Draco clenched his jaw and looked at each of them in turn. Why was she telling Blaise this? Sure, Blaise had been involved in a lot of things that had happened, but why was she repeating the same words to him that he had thought were meant for him and him alone? Did she consider Blaise anything more than a friend? The blond Slytherin swallowed. It seemed to him that his blood was heating up in his veins. He remained silent, his mood duller.

The Lioness began her story and left no stone unturned, including the name of the Minister's assistant. She repeated as best she could the lines from the diary they had read and the uncomfortable atmosphere in Ivana's living room and her cold, sarcastic attitude towards them.

"The fuck is this again?" Draco grumbled. "Angela's dead?"

Blaise frowned. "Even if you didn't talk to her as planned, you still found out things. But…"

"But what?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sorry for the question, and you can kick me in the shins if I go too far, but... if your brother knew his girlfriend was dead when it happened, don't you think that... maybe... he... maybe he killed the person who supposedly killed her?"

Draco whistled and took a step away. He couldn't believe Blaise had just implied that. Hermione's eyes widened in horror and her gaze quietly morphed into a fiery one.

She took a threatening step towards Blaise. "No! My brother was not a murderer! That's not what happened!"

"I don't want to imply anything," Blaise defended himself, uncomfortably, "but the truth is that we don't know a thing about what happened!"

"My brother knows several ways to fight with his bare hands, it's true, it's part of his Auror training, but he would never, ever kill anyone!"

"I'm sorry, Mia— " Blaise began.

"You don't even know him! I won't hear any more of it!"

Silence fell between them. Draco looked down at his shoes and Blaise's face was grim. The sky was getting darker and the breeze was getting colder. Draco hadn't said anything, but he didn't want to admit that Blaise's assumptions were not crazy. If one really wanted answers, one had to admit that one couldn't always like the answers one was going to find. What if Sam killed Duncan? he thought suddenly. What if Sam had killed Duncan because Angela had finally admitted to him that she'd cheated on him with Duncan? Who would have killed Sam for his crime then? Who would have avenged Duncan?

His assumptions and ideas were starting to multiply, so he made a considerable effort to keep them quiet for the time being. Obviously Hermione was already upset before she even spoke to them, and now Blaise had managed to make her angry. He felt almost victorious that it wasn't him that her anger was directed at, for once. It was as if he had won a round against Blaise. You're being ridiculous.

Hermione felt the burn of tears that she knew so well, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to be seen like this anymore, crying over any situation or emotion that came her way. She bit her lower lip and swallowed hard. Why on earth had Blaise put these ideas into her head? Now all she could think about was her brother killing a stranger. She knew her brother. She knew him better than anyone else.

Draco finally looked back into Hermione's eyes and immediately noticed the change in her eyes. She was on the verge of crying, but was obviously trying to control herself from doing so. His heart sank at the thought that she must be spinning every macabre hypothesis in her mind to figure out whether it was valid or not.

He approached her gently. "Hey..." he whispered. "Everything's okay, Hermione."

She looked up at him and lost herself in his eyes, giving him a weak smile.

"We'll sort it out," he continued. "Let's just stop thinking about it for tonight."

She nodded her head in agreement. All of a sudden, a glow lit up the blonde's face. With a newfound excitement, he leaned towards her. "Fly with me," he said. "Clear your head. Come to the sky!"

Hermione widened her eyes and shook her head sharply, taking a step back. "Draco, are you mad! I... Quidditch was never my thing."

"I'm not talking about Quidditch, Granger, I'm talking about flying!"

"I... I don't fly. I didn't practise flying much, I... I don't have a broom—"

"I'll take you with me," he breathed.

Hermione's eyes widened even more, though she felt herself blushing. She took another step back. "No…"

He took two steps towards her. "I promise nothing will happen to you. Not on my watch."

She bit the inside of her cheeks again, hesitant. His eyes were almost pleading, but shone with a fierce gleam. As if he needed her to fly with him. Just as she had needed to see him as soon as she was back. She swallowed her anxiety.

"O-okay," she said.

"And that's my cue," announced Blaise, who left them immediately.

He walked away from the field without saying another word to them. He wasn't worried about Hermione's anger. But he sure as hell wasn't going to stand there while they shared a flight together. Worse, he wasn't going to fly next to them.

Draco stepped over his broom and held out his hand to her. "Miss Granger" he invited.

She took his hand and straddled the broom right in front of him, her heart pounding. What if she fell and broke her neck? Not on my watch. She swallowed her fear and clutched the broom handle in front of her.

"If at any time I want to come down," she warned, "we'll come down."

"I promise."

Framing her body with his arms, he placed his hands just in front of hers at the end of the handle. His chest pressed against her back and he felt her quiver beneath him. His face was almost buried in her hair and he could breathe her in. He took off with a kick. Hermione squealed and Draco laughed.

"Once you taste the wind, you can't live without it!" he said.

They soared upwards, Draco's cloak flapping in the wind, rising ever higher into the vesper canopy of the sky. Hermione had thought of closing her eyes in fright and dizziness, but she tried to keep them open. Once they were high enough and Draco slowed down, she took in the whole view.

The Black Lake glowed under the last pink rays of the sky. The dark silhouette of the mountains stood out against the horizon, and the tiny trees swayed in the caress of the dusky wind. Hermione took a long breath. She felt her thoughts fade away one by one like a star's lights slowly dying after a lingering effort.

When the fear finally subsided, she could concentrate on the warmth of Draco's chest against her and his scent surrounding her. Thus trapped in his aroma, she could afford to smile without him seeing her.

"Do you want to go down?" he asked, concerned.

"Not yet."

He continued to fly in circles over the field, finally deciding to move a little further away and fly over the Lake. "We won't go far," he promised.

The wind tossed her hair, which whipped against Draco's shoulder behind her. He felt light. Empty. Happy. He accepted the moment as if it were a gift he could only enjoy once. The Slytherin relished the idea that his partner now trusted him enough to entrust him with her fear of flying. Here, locked in his arms, she belonged to him alone, and the world was theirs only for the time of one sunset.

Hermione shivered, which did not escape Draco's notice as he felt her tremble against him. He realised that she didn't have her coat or scarf. He blamed himself for his own carelessness.

"You're cold," he said.

The Lioness noted in his voice that he had not said it like a question.

"Let's go down," he decided, immediately starting to move downwards.

"No! Wait... Just a little. It's... It feels good."

He didn't know what she was referring to exactly, but part of him hoped she was including his proximity in that 'good'. Her tremors didn't subside though, so he pressed himself a little closer to her and grabbed his cloak to drape it over her. He placed his hands on hers, still clutching the broom handle. Hermione closed her eyes.

This moment was the closest she had ever come to true happiness since Sam's death. The silence of the sleepy sky, the whisper of the wind, Draco's warm hands on hers, the beat of his heart at her back. The mountains on the horizon. The stillness of her mind, lulled by darkness. And somewhere, between them, a vital energy flowing that they had no idea was so great.

See those birds going across the sky
Three thousand miles they fly
How do they know which way to go?
Somehow they always seem to know

Tom Odell, Magnetised