Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the amazing JK Rowling, and sadly, not me.

Thank you to my beta, HPalto87.

A/N: Okay, so the internet in half the city is down, so I am updating this from a coffee shop (yay for wifi!). Like with 'Please Wake Up,' I intended to update this daily, but forgive me if I don't do so until Time-Warner stops sucking. Anyway, thank you to all my reviewers!

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2

Hermione tucked her one-year-old daughter in her crib, and set the magic mobile to play until she fell asleep. Ron quietly came into the room behind her.

"Good-night, Penelope," he said softly to the crib, and wrapped his arms lovingly around his wife.

"She's beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

Hermione turned in his arms and kissed him lightly.

Then they heard the floo roar to life downstairs, ruining their happy little moment.

Hermione sighed and pushed away from her husband. There were only two people who had constant access to their floo; Harry and Molly. Since Molly was currently visiting Bill and Fleur in France, she walked to the study to greet her friend.

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Hermione watched Harry stumble into the study through their fireplace. Run brushed past her and helped him stand. Harry mumbled a thanks to Ron and dropped his suitcase by his feet. He lifted his now-free hand to his face, and Hermione realized he was fighting back tears.

Ron led Harry to the tattered couch and sat down with him. Hermione took the seat on the other side of Harry, and held onto his arm. She noticed that he was clutching a small wooden box in his lap, but decided to ignore it for the moment. She needed to confirm Harry's emotional state before she worried about random objects.

"Tell us what's wrong," she said in a soft, motherly voice.

"You know what's wrong," Harry replied.

Neither Hermione nor Ron knew what to say to that. They did, in fact, know what had happened in recent months. It was bad, but Harry and Draco had always been able to work through their problems before. They had fought Voldemort together, for Merlin's sake! If they could get through all of the hell that they had to deal with during the war, Hermione believed they could get through anything.

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm leaving him," he said finally. "We just keep hurting each other. It's not worth it anymore."

"You can't just walk out on him!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Why not?" Ron asked her. "We all know the most important thing to Malfoy is himself. Harry deserves better."

"As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree with Ron," Harry said quietly. He looked up, and they could see that he was on the verge of tears.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She looked away from Harry's green eyes, which were silently pleading for her support and understanding.

Her eyes wandered around the study. It was a small room, lined with tall bookshelves on two sides. The third wall contained a fireplace that was connected to the floo network, and the fourth had a wide picture window above the couch they were currently sitting on. There was a messy desk in the middle of the room, covered in parchment and ink and quills. A framed photo of Hermione and Ron on their wedding day sat on the edge, next to a photo of Harry holding their daughter. He was Penelope's Godfather.

Hermione needed to change the subject before Harry broke down.

"What is this?" Hermione said, touching the box in Harry's arms.

"Nothing," he said too quickly, and tightened his grip on it.

Hermione knew him better than that, and held out her hands. "Give it here," she said, as if speaking to a child.

Harry reluctantly unlocked it and handed it over, knowing she wouldn't give up. Besides, maybe she'd be able to recognize the potion.

She carefully lifted the papers from the box and skimmed through the words. Her eyes widened. "I… I haven't seen this in so long," she said. "I didn't think he still had it."

"You know what it is?" Harry asked, and she nodded.

The parchment held all the pain Draco had gone through when Harry was in St. Mungo's. It held a full account of how the relationship had developed between the two boys, and Draco's role during the war. It had driven Hermione to tears when she read it.

Hermione shifted her eyes up to her friend. "Draco gave this to you?"

"I found it when I was packing," Harry said.

Hermione grew angry. "You mean to tell me that you've read this, and you still want to leave him?" she demanded. Her voice rose and tears formed in her eyes.

Harry reeled back from her. "Hermione, I-"

"Harry Potter, I don't believe you! How can you be so oblivious?" she yelled.

"Hermione!" Harry tried again, but she wasn't finished yet.

"Don't you realize how much he loves you?" she asked.

Ron reached across Harry and grabbed her arm. "Penelope is sleeping," he reminded her.

"Right. Sorry, I just…" Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. "I don't understand, Harry."

"I haven't actually read it," Harry confessed. "I just saw my name, and… well…"

There was an uncomfortable pause. Harry wasn't supposed to have that box. Draco would be upset… More upset than he was already? Hermione didn't think that was possible.

"Draco doesn't even know you have this, does he?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry confirmed.

Hermione dropped the box back into Harry's lap and stood up. "Read it," she demanded. She took Ron's hand and led him out of the small room, leaving Harry alone with a stack of papers he wasn't sure he wanted to read.

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Hermione didn't let go of Ron's hand until they were in their bedroom.

Hermione began pacing the small room with an expression that Ron was all too familiar with. It meant she was deep in thought, and she would stress herself out before coming upon a satisfactory answer to whatever question was occupying that mind of hers.

He pulled her into a hug, stopping her before she got to that point, and ending her pacing.

"This could be good for Harry," he said. "He could do so much better than Malfoy."

Hermione shook her head. "No, not after everything they've done to just be together. That box… I can't believe Draco never showed that to Harry!"

"What's in that box?" Ron asked.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath. "Do you remember when Harry was in St. Mungo's, and Draco spent the whole time sitting in his corner of the waiting room, writing?"

"Vaguely," Ron replied. "I tried not to pay any attention to him. You know the theory, if you ignore him, he'll go away."

"He's not an animal, Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"Err… so that box has whatever Malfoy was writing then?" Ron asked evasively.

Hermione nodded. "It's a letter to Harry, but really it was just a way for Draco to get all of his frustration out. It's the sweetest, most heart-breaking story… I told him he should show Harry, but he never did. I thought he had gotten rid of it."

"Why are you making Harry read that?" Ron's eyes narrowed, trying to read her.

"To make him see everything he's giving up." Hermione answered.

Ron gave it up as a lost cause. He had learned long ago that when Hermione made up her mind about something, it was useless to argue. She was always right, anyway. She was the most intelligent witch he knew, after all.