A/N: Big thanks to everyone supporting this story. You don't know how much it means to me! An extra, special thank you to my alpha reader: LaDeeDaa and my beta reader: astrangefan. Y'all never disappoint.

Memories

Hermione set up the pensieve in her father's office. There was plenty of space and it would be safe from being knocked over since the room was not heavily trafficked by the three people currently living in the house.

She checked in on Draco and Theo and saw they were both still asleep from the effects of the weed. She let out a sigh of relief. Every time they got a long, natural sleep their health seemed to boost exponentially. They were looking more themselves - though they both could use some exercise and sun. She'd have to work on that.

As she puttered around her room, readying herself to meet up with her friends - she'd planned to make it an early night so she could address the Initiation memories before midnight - she couldn't stop thinking about what had transpired in the bed with Draco.

Her feelings were a jumbled mess that she didn't know if she could understand or explain, but one thing was clear - her actions had been inappropriate. She was in a position of power with Draco and Theo that made it impossible for Draco to sort out his real, rational feelings for her. If he felt obligated to her, if he felt anything for her, it was due to the fact that she was his 'saviour' for all intents and purposes. This was Stockholm Syndrome. She was his jailor - even if she was a benevolent one.

It was absolutely not appropriate for her to exploit those confused, obligated feelings to satisfy any of her own confusing new emotions where Draco was concerned. She felt a pang of disappointment and self-disgust as she considered what might have happened in that bed if she'd allowed it - if she hadn't let good sense prevail.

Draco was a victim. He was a victim of his own upbringing, of the father that failed him, and even in her parents' house - smoking weed and learning to cook - he was a victim of a harsh, punitive system that would punish him for the rest of his natural life for the sins of a boy. No, he wasn't perfect. Yes, he'd done things she struggled to rationalise, but he'd also been punished enough, and she was still one of his captors.

She cringed in disgust. She held immense power over him, and she'd nearly kissed him. It couldn't happen again. Draco had a right to sort out his feelings free from the inherent coercion her position over him implied.

Suddenly she was happy to be going out with her friends. She needed to get out of that house and get some distance from the situation.

Harry, Parvati, and Luna were already at the pub when Hermione arrived, and Parvati looked particularly excited to see her. "Hermione!" she squealed, "I'm so glad you could make it."

"I saw you a few days ago," Hermione reminded her, a bemused smile on her face.

Danger.

"I know, but I worry about you working on your own so much," Parvati said. "The rest of us are surrounded by people all day, and you have to work down in the basement of the Ministry by yourself."

Hermione shrugged. "I like it," she said simply. "But I am happy to come out," she added. "Sometimes I need a break to refocus the mind."

"You sound like Pads," Parvati said with a good-natured eye roll.

They settled into easy conversation, with Harry taking Parvati's attention back with a quick kiss on the cheek while Luna pressed Hermione again for an interview about Azkaban. "Absolutely," Hermione said. "Let's meet tomorrow afternoon. I have to go to Azkaban in the morning, and perhaps I'll have some more intel on what is going on there."

"Perfect," Luna said, and they set a date at Fortescue's for one o'clock.

Neville joined them next, looking exhausted and settling in next to Luna, wrapping his arm around her. "Hello, Love," he greeted her. "Had to oversee some detentions."

"Makes me nostalgic," Hermione admitted.

"As if you ever got detention," Harry said with a scoff.

"I do believe you got me more than one detention, Harry," she shot back with a dramatic pout.

They all ordered drinks just as Ron arrived. "Paperwork," he muttered under his breath.

"Ron, if you'd just catch up one time, and did it as it comes…" Hermione started, but Ron put his hand up to stop her.

"I know, Hermione. I've heard it for over twelve years. You owe me a drink just for bringing it up."

"Not a chance," Hermione said, primly taking a sip of her own butterbeer. Ron pouted for a moment but ordered his drink and moved on. Padma came in right behind rounding out the group. Ginny couldn't make it due to being out of town for a match.

"Pads, sit here!" Parvati cried just as Padma was about to sit next to Hermione. Parvati pointed to the other side of Harry where there was an empty seat.

What are you up to, Parvati?

Hermione decided to put it out of her mind and continued her conversation with Neville about how Muggles utilise ginkgo biloba for myriad ailments. Neville was always interested in Muggle herbal therapy theories.

Only five minutes later, it became apparent why Parvati was so insistent that the seat to Hermione's right stay unoccupied. Their group of seven suddenly became eight when Oliver Wood walked into the pub and Parvati stood to greet him.

"We've saved you a seat!" she cried, indicating that he should sit next to Hermione.

Real fucking subtle, Parv.

Despite her friend's 'subtle as a sledge hammer' attempt to set her up with someone, Hermione had to admit, Parvati could have done worse. Oliver Wood was fit - always had been - and his smile as he laid eyes on her indicated that he wasn't all that put off by the set up.

"Hullo," he greeted, his Scottish lilt didn't hurt matters. He slid into the seat next to her, and Hermione turned to see six pairs of eyes looking at both of them as if they were on public display.

"Hello, Oliver," Hermione said, ignoring them. Traitors.

The rest of the table greeted him as well and he ordered his own drink as the table broke up into their individual conversations again. She, of course, was expected to speak to Oliver and the entire table made it so.

So, they are all in on it.

Instead of planning the slow, painful murder of all her friends - save Ginny who would avoid her wrath merely by being absent - she smiled at Oliver and decided to catch up with him. He'd always been a nice lad, and she'd heard he'd just retired from a smashing career as Keeper for the Scottish National Team.

Besides, he was very attractive. If Hermione needed anything at the moment, it was an attractive distraction from the confusing and frustrating emotions she had for a certain blond sleeping in her childhood bedroom. She let her eyes move over Oliver's heather grey tee-shirt that tightly covered his broad shoulders. His muscular arms were prominently displayed, and she had to admit she didn't hate the way his pecs seemed barely restrained by the fabric. Buff wasn't her particular type, but she wasn't immune to the charms of a man who could probably lift her over his head if he had a mind.

He had full lips, stretched beautifully over perfect white teeth when he smiled, and his brown hair was cut short - shorter than she preferred, but it seemed to work for him. His green eyes shone as he said something she was ashamed to admit she didn't catch because she was checking him out.

"How are things in Scotland?" she asked when he finished speaking, hoping he hadn't literally just told her exactly that.

"Oh, I'm in London for now," Oliver said, crossing his leg so that his ankle rested on the opposite knee. "My flat's actually not far from the Ministry."

"I'm rarely there these days," Hermione admitted. They made easy small talk and Hermione learned that Oliver had made enough money in Quidditch to legitimately retire but he'd discovered about ten minutes after his last game that he was bored. His plan was to move to London and find something to invest his time in. She'd not so subtly mentioned that Criminal Justice Reform was in need of attention.

Oliver was smart, funny, and after speaking with him for an hour she realised that she hadn't felt so at ease with someone new in a long time. When it was time for her to leave, Oliver had written down his address and encouraged her to write to him just to chat. She could tell from the look on Parvati's face she was pleased with herself. Padma winked at her, as well.

Busy-bodies.

But her friends meant well, and maybe Oliver would be a good match for her if she ever got time to dedicate to dating in the Wizarding world. Her mind immediately went to the steel grey eyes of Draco Malfoy and her stomach flipped.

Well, Oliver was a nice distraction at the very least. The last thing she needed was to dwell on her inappropriate attraction to a man whose very life was held in her hands. Besides, even if there wasn't the ethical issue of consent to deal with, what was going to happen? She and Draco Malfoy were going to date? Absurd.

With a soft pop, she apparated back to her parents' house. It was time to extract Draco's and Nott's memories. It was the reason she'd left her friends' early. She had no idea how long she might need, and she still had a trip to Azkaban in the morning.

"Draco, Theo!" she called from down the stairs. "You up?"

She immediately heard them move about up the stairs and knew they must have already been awake after their drug-induced nap. Slowly, they came shuffling down the stairs - Draco first, then Theo behind. They looked freshly bathed and were wearing new clothes. No matter how long they'd been in the house, wearing flannel trousers and tee-shirts, it was weird to see them so casual. It was a far cry from their attire at Hogwarts.

The angry, black webbing on their arms was jarring every time she laid eyes on it. It was not rippling, and she surmised their pain levels were manageable. Every time the vine-like blackness pulsated and shifted as if it wanted to capture its host's heart, that's when they indicated higher level pains. She was grateful that the pain had abated for now, at least.

She ignored Draco's penetrating gaze and the swooping in her stomach as his eyes met hers and focused on the task ahead of her.

"I've set up the den," she said, motioning for them to follow her to her father's old study. She indicated toward the couch, "Go ahead and sit. Make yourselves comfortable. Do you need anything to eat or drink before we start?"

"Water," Theo said. "I can get it."

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Relax. I'll get the water and then we'll get started."

She was happy to have something to do. Unfortunately, Draco followed her into the kitchen. His presence was a force of its own, and she didn't know if he could feel it, but she certainly felt the tension between the two of them.

"Do you have chocolate?" he asked, from behind her as she pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed three bottles of water.

"Mmhmm," she managed, turning around. He was so close to her she could feel his body heat radiating off of him - as well as smell the mint soap he must have used in the bath. Thankfully, he moved aside to let her pass as she went to the pantry on the other end of the kitchen.

She knew she had some way in the back - magical chocolate she'd picked up days ago, just in case. She'd gotten it specifically for the purpose of calming Draco and Theo in the event that they had to undergo something traumatic - like reliving their official initiation into the Death Eaters. She reached far back on the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes until she could just feel the tip of the aluminium wrapper.

"Shit," she muttered.

When she set herself back down her feet, she felt him behind her again. "I'll get it," he said; his tone had taken on a lower timbre and it made her shiver. The vibration of his voice in his chest tickled the back of her head and she let out a long, steadying breath.

Merlin's balls, Hermione. Get a hold of yourself.

"It's just up there at the back," she indicated moving out of the way. Draco quickly grabbed the chocolate and handed it to her.

"Theo will need this," he said.

"There is no medal for getting through this without," Hermione pointed out. "You might need it as well."

Draco ignored that.

"Ready?" Hermione asked.

"As I'll ever be, I suppose," Draco said, offering her his arm, and she actually chuckled, feeling a bit of the tension and stress ease off her shoulders. How proper he still remained while existing in jim-jams all day, every day was still hilarious to her. It also made her grateful. Five years of isolated torture had not destroyed him totally.

They joined Theo in the den, and she passed out the waters and placed the chocolate on her father's desk. "I'd like to start with Theo's since his ritual happened most recently," she said.

"Again, you do not have to go back in with me," she reiterated. They'd both said they wanted to, that they might be able to help give her context if necessary.

"We'll be fine," Theo assured her, but his tone indicated that he had not been looking forward to this anymore than she had been.

"Come on, Granger," Draco said, bumping her arm with his elbow, "have some Gryffindor Courage." There was a twinkle in his eye that Hermione decided that she quite liked, but that she would absolutely not think about longer than a moment.

"Here," she beckoned Theo toward her and he gracefully lifted himself from her father's couch and walked toward her where she stood by the pensieve. Draco stood at her left and Theo took a deep breath as he settled at her right. She couldn't help but notice, standing between the two, how much more life they had in them in the week they'd been in her care. No longer completely skeletal, they were beginning to take on the shapes she recalled from Hogwarts - lithe but not malnourished. It made her happy, and she felt that despite everything that had happened, she'd had a real, positive impact on their well-being.

She hesitated a moment before handing her wand over to Theo. His shaking fingers circled around the vine wood wand, and he let out a shuddering breath.

The trio had agreed that it would be best for the memory bearer to pull his own memory. Hermione had studied Legilimency but was hardly adept at it - and without knowing where, exactly, the memory was located, finding it would make tedious and painful work for all parties. Her only concern about this plan was whether her wand would cooperate - sometimes they were temperamental things. But Draco had already used her wand once, so she assumed it would be willing in this.

Theo looked at her, then his coal black eyes moved up to catch Draco's who nodded at the smaller man. Theo placed the tip of the wand at his temple and after a moment of deep concentration, he pulled out a faintly glowing, silvery memory. He immediately dropped it into the stone pensieve.

Handing Hermione her wand back he took another shaky breath and tried to give her a weak smile. "Let's do it," he said, taking her by the right arm. She was at his left side so she dared not touch his arm for fear of causing him pain.

Draco grabbed her left hand and the three of them dove into the memory.

The chill that always went down her spine when she entered a pensieve caused Hermione to shiver and she felt Draco's hand grip hers more tightly. Theo's nails bit at the skin of her arm as the scene before them came into focus as the watercolour world around them finally materialised into a moving portrait.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione gasped as she saw Theo's kneeling body hunched over in the middle of what looked like a very grand parlour. Their feet had landed on rich, soft, deep-green carpet and a large, foreboding, cruel looking man stood to the side of the room as a bleeding Theo knelt just near a plush brown leather couch. There was a fire roaring behind him in a fireplace that was larger than a queen-sized bed.

"He's not here yet," Theo whispered as if the other people in the scene might see him. Hermione extracted her arm from his iron-clad grip. "Sorry," he muttered, having not realised how tight he held to her.

Hermione brushed off his apology and moved her arm around him, in effort to comfort the man who'd already begun shaking.

"I'm fine," he assured her. Then he looked to Draco, "He's dead," he said with a sense of finality. "He can't hurt me."

"No," Draco said, "Never again." Hermione felt something profound between the two and she squeezed Draco's hand, knowing this scene wasn't easy for him to watch either. He felt so responsible for what had happened to Theo - no matter how much the other man assured him he'd done everything he could do without getting himself killed.

'He's coming, though,' Theo said, narrating the scene. "Father wanted me to stand so that I could kneel before The Dark Lord, but he'd beaten me so badly I couldn't. I barely kept a proper kneel. I wanted to die." His voice was relatively calm considering.

Hermione wished Theo Nott Sr. were actually there so she could hex him within an inch of his own life. Theo from the past was clearly barely conscious, his blood spilt all down his face and onto the dark carpet.

A moment passed and then she heard Nagini before she actually saw Voldemort. She didn't know why the sight of him caught her so off-guard. She'd known he'd be there. She'd been planning for it. But still, the evil that permeated off him - even in memory - was worse than a Dementor. It had been so long since she'd laid eyes on him.

She felt both men stiffen at the site of him, and she held them both tightly - Draco by the hand, Theo by the waist.

"Theodore Nott. I understand you required incentive to join our ranks," Voldemort hissed. He didn't sound particularly upset or surprised. It was as if he was just making conversation.

Past Theo said nothing but shuddered. Voldemort continued, "As the only son of one of my most loyal followers, I've decided to bestow the honour of initiation into the Death Eaters to you, tonight."

Draco spat on the ground next to her. "Honour," he hissed. Hermione looked up and could see the rage inside him, barely contained.

"Give me your arm, Theo," Voldemort instructed. There was a momentary hesitation before younger Theo looked to his father and then offered his left arm to the serpentine Dark Lord.

"Theodore Nott Jr., you are about to join a collective of Witches and Wizards, brought together with the purpose of preserving the Wizarding race. From this day forward, for the rest of your days, you will live in service to The Dark Lord. You will come when called. You will provide anything The Dark Lord requires of you. You will use your place in society to promote the will of The Dark Lord."

Voldemort pressed his wand into young Theo's arm. His eyes seemed to glow red as he began speaking in parseltongue.

"Haa shaa saatha haaa seeeaathh sshhhheeehfaaas thaaaa faa shaaaa. Hee seeeth fasha saaatha ssseee shhheee thaaaa."

When the hissing stopped, young Theo screamed out in pain his arm still held in Voldemort's hand as the spell cast over his entire body. There was a bright white light that went from the newly formed Mark on Theo's arm all the way to his chest - his heart - before fading.

The boy collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

The memory began from the beginning on a loop and Hermione pulled them all out of the pensive.

"I don't remember after that," Theo said, his voice shaking. Hermione let go of Draco's hand and led Theo over to the couch. She tossed the chocolate over to Draco to open while she unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and pushed it into Theo's hand. He took a small sip.

"I'm fine," he assured them, but Draco was already shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

"Eat," Draco instructed.

"Theo…" Hermione began, sitting next to him on the couch. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Theo tried to give a weak smile, to reassure them both it was in the past, that it was fine. "To tell you the truth," he began, "Azkaban is worse than that."

Hermione nodded solemnly. Yes, the very system she believed in - that she helped promote - was worse to this poor, abused man than fucking Voldemort. She'd made that connection herself just days prior.

Never again.

"What if just Draco and I go in for his memory," Hermione suggested. She saw Draco nod quickly in agreement.

"No, I can do it," Theo insisted. "He was there for me. I can be there for him."

"No use, mate," Draco said, his voice giving off more confidence than he probably felt. "I remember a lot more of my initiation, and I've run it over my head a million times. I'll be fine."

"I insist," Hermione said. "You sit here, drink some water, and wait for us to come back up."

Theo looked as if he wanted to argue but a stern look from Draco shut him up and he finally agreed.

Assured Theo would eat his chocolate and sit on the couch, she moved back over to the pensieve with Draco and he followed. With an encouraging half smile, she handed her wand to him.

Just like Theo, Draco closed his eyes and concentrated before placing the tip of her wand to his temple and pulling for the memory, dropping it directly into the watery solution in the pensieve.

"Ready?" she asked, unnecessarily as she looked up at him. He gave a short nod and took her hand in his again, this time lacing their fingers together. Hermione squeezed his hand and they both dove in.

It was the Drawing Room. The room where Bellatrix had tortured her.

She shivered. She took a breath and allowed herself a moment to take in the scene and become comfortable with her surroundings. She reminded herself she was not really there and that she could leave any time she wished.

Malfoy, the one she remembered from Hogwarts, was standing rigid in the middle of the room. There were several people there, unlike at Theo's initiation where only his father was present. Bellatrix was spread across one of the overstuffed antique chairs to Voldemort's right. On Voldemort's left were a number of Death Eaters in their black formal masks. It looked as if there was some sort of party that had either been interrupted or was reaching its conclusion.

She looked up at Draco, her Draco, as he gripped her hand so tightly it began to hurt. She didn't say anything though.

"My mother was made to watch," he said pointing toward a corner behind Draco.

Narcissa was being held in place by Dolohov. Hermione recognized him because he was the same Death Eater who'd given her the scar across her chest she still bore. His stance was casual, but Hermione could see the way his hand gripped Narcissa's arm tightly. Narcissa's eyes were full of tears, but she was attempting to keep a stoic face of strength.

"Your father has failed me, Draco," Voldemort said, still sitting like a king on a throne near the fireplace. The teenage Draco jerkily nodded, and Hermione could see his fingers tremble. He looked terrified. Anyone could see it. He looked as if his knees would give out at any moment. But he was attempting to project confidence, she could tell that as well.

"The Malfoys have kept the old ways for many generations. I'm inclined to reward that loyalty even in the wake of Lucius' ineptitude."

There was a rumbling of agreement among the Death Eaters gathered, and Bellatrix smiled evilly.

"Would you like to save the family name, Draco?" Voldemort inquired.

"Of course, My Lord," young Draco answered instantly, but his voice wavered just slightly.

"Will you join your brothers and sisters to bring about the change required to protect the Wizarding World?"

"Yes." It was more confident that time.

"Come," Voldemort beckoned, finally rising from his seat and walking toward Draco.

The Draco beside her was shaking, his eyes closed.

"Draco, do you want out? I think I have all the relevant context," she said, instantly regretting putting these men through this all over again.

"No," he said, with a firm shake of the head. "I'm fine. I just don't want to look at my mother."

Hermione's eyes moved over to where Narcissa was again.

The blond woman's face was a mask of no emotion, but Hermione could see in her eyes the intense pain, tears cascading down her face. For Draco, that must have been too much for him to bear.

Voldemort stood before a kneeling young Draco now, and just as he'd done with Theo, took his left arm in hand.

"He felt like a snake. His skin was indistinguishable from Nagini's. I wanted to pull my arm back immediately. But one look at my mother and I knew I'd agree to anything. They'd made it so clear what they'd do to her if I didn't. Voldemort never even had to make the threat. Bella and others made it quite clear," Draco narrated, looking now at Hermione rather than the scene before them.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy you are about to join a collective of Witches and Wizards, brought together with the purpose of preserving the Wizarding race. From this day forward, for the rest of your days, you will live in service to The Dark Lord. You will come when called. You will provide anything The Dark Lord requires of you. You will use your place in society to promote the will of The Dark Lord."

Just as before, he pressed the tip of his wand to Draco's arm and spoke the sealing spell, "Haa shaa saatha haaa seeeaathh sshhhheeehfaaas thaaaa faa shaaaa. Hee seeeth fasha saaatha ssseee shhheee thaaaa."

Draco's screams tore at Hermione's very soul. Unlike Theo who had nearly been unconscious when the entire initiation started, Draco did not instantly pass out. He fell backward and nearly cracked his head on the marble floor as the Death Eaters cheered.

She was transported back to the day she saw him at St. Mungo's in so much pain he'd screamed his throat raw - only now, seeing him as a 16-year-old boy, was even more jarring and traumatic.

Hermione let go of Draco's hand, her heart hammering in her chest as she acted on instinct. She wanted nothing more than to protect the writhing, teenaged Draco from the excruciating pain he was in through fault of birth, but she only had this Draco to touch - to comfort.

She pulled him close, wrapping both arms around him at the waist, clinging to him as tight as she could. Her hands went up around his back and she gripped him rightly. His shaking arms slowly moved around her, resting gently across her shoulders. She pulled them out of the pensieve but didn't let him go. His screams were still echoing on the back of her brain as they returned to reality.

"Draco," she cried, burying her face in his chest. "Merlin, Draco…"

"It lasted nearly an hour, I'm told," Draco said, and she could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest as her ear rested there. "I don't remember it past the pain. My mother tucked me into bed, and I was left alone for three days before I was called upon to learn my mission for the following year at Hogwarts."

Hermione felt her own tears against Draco's shirt, and it was enough to get her to pull back. She dropped her arms from around him and stepped back. "I'm sorry," she said. She couldn't believe she'd have to watch that memory again and again until she gleaned everything she could from it.

His hands slid down her arms slowly, but he let her move out of his reach before sitting on the couch next to Theo and taking a bit of chocolate for himself. Theo looked between the both of them with a sort of bemused expression. Hermione blushed but ignored his stare. She knew very well how inappropriate her actions had looked.

Fantastic job setting boundaries, Hermione.

She felt as if she was doing this all wrong. She was getting too close. She was too emotionally invested, but she didn't know any other way to be. These men were still underage when they were coerced into joining a group who held significant power over them. They'd since lived in fear or incarceration. It wasn't bloody fair, and it made her want to spit fire.

"Let's call it a night," she finally said. "I'll roll a spliff and make you a snack, then we can turn in. I've got to be at the prison early tomorrow morning."

Theo went upstairs but Draco stayed behind. His presence enveloped the room, as it often did, and she gazed up at him as he looked down at her - grey eyes meeting brown. His stare was so intense - it felt like everything about him was intense, always.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but that he didn't know how to start. He shifted from one foot to the other in an act of insecurity that Hermione didn't think she'd ever witnessed from him before. "I want to apologise."

What?

Her brows furrowed. "For what?"

His jaw clenched and his eyes closed as he worked up to what he wanted to say. It looked like he'd been practising this moment for a while. Finally, he opened his eyes again, looked deeply into hers and said, "I joined the Death Eaters to save my mother, to make amends for my father. But I also joined because I felt proud of my heritage. I regret it. I was a fool. But I was not in the same position as Theo. I made the choice willingly."

Hermione said nothing. She disagreed with his assessment of his motivation. He could say until forever he chose what happened to him, but she saw it differently. Even if he'd been proud to be called - what other possible reaction could a boy steeped in that environment have had.

"What I believed about you, it was wrong. I was wrong. I'm sorry." When he finally got the words out, Hermione was surprised at how nervous he'd seemed, and how relieved she was to actually hear the words.

She'd already forgiven him for all of that. She knew, at least at this point, that his old prejudices were ignorance and not malice. It didn't change how deeply he'd hurt her, but it made a difference to her, personally. Hearing his apology reminded her of something her mother had always told her as a child. 'Apologies matter. A good, meaningful apology can fix a number of sins.' She needed one more thing from this apology.

"I understand, Draco," she said. "I do not hold the past against you, now. But if you really feel this way, can I ask you one thing?"

"Anything," he offered immediately.

"Please, in the future, no matter how upset you might be with me, please don't call me Mudblood again."

Draco's eyes widened and he took a physical step back from her. His eyes blazed with shame. "I…"

"I know when you came here, you were in pain. You were confused and scared. I also know that word is meaningless. But," she lifted the sleeve of her left arm to lay bare the cursed scar Bellatrix had left her, "that word is so hard for me."

"Never again," he said finally, his eyes locked on hers with resolve.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "Then we are fine, Draco. Anything you've ever done to me, it's in the past."

Draco nodded, and it looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he walked up the stairs to join Theo.

That night, after they smoked and fell asleep, Hermione sat at the desk where she'd been researching and watched them sleep for several minutes before taking a nip of Dreamless Sleep to avoid the nightmares she knew would come if she didn't and went off to bed.