When Hermione woke up, Draco wasn't in the other bed, and while a part of her was relieved, it also worried her. Surely he wouldn't have set himself loose in Muggle Paris, would he? She sat up, rubbing her eyes before removing the shield charm she had placed around her bed the night before. Just in case. If Draco had noticed or been offended, he hadn't said anything.

Coffee. She needed coffee. Then she could get to work. Hermione fixed her ponytail quickly to get the stray hairs out of her face and stood, stretching and rolling over to grab her journal from where she'd stashed it under her pillow. The rest of her things were in her suitcase, but there was no way she was letting Draco get his hands on the lifeline of this trip. She wasn't letting it out of her sight, even taking it into the bathroom with her. Hermione reached for the handle just as it opened and collided face first into Draco's bare chest. At least he had on pants.

"Ow!"

"What the hell, Granger! Don't you know how to knock?!" he asked as his hands firmly planted on her shoulders and pushed her back.

"I didn't know you were even in there!" she huffed, pushing his hands away. "Why are you-" Her question caught in the back of her throat as she took in the sight in front of her. Angry red scars crisscrossed nearly his entire chest, at least a dozen marks in stark straight lines. Familiar lines. Lines like the ones she knew marred the small tree in the forest before it fell under Harry's curse.

"Like what you see?"

"Not at all," she whispered. His image became watery as her eyes started to tear up and she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Are those-"

"From your boyfriend? Sure are."

"Does… does he know?"

"No." He quickly pushed past her to grab a shirt from his suitcase, sliding it over his head and breaking Hermione out of her trance a little. "And before you suggest it, no. I'm not going to tell him. It doesn't matter anymore."

"He… I mean, when I learned that spell, I saw what it did, but I didn't even think…" Hermione took a deep breath. "You could have died."

"I nearly did." Draco sat down at the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor. "I saw how much blood I was losing before Snape put it back in."

"He… what?"

"Potter never told you?"

"He told me he hurt you defending himself, but he never…"

"Defending himself?!" Draco scoffed. "That's what he said? All I was trying to do was bloody scare him off and he-"

"I'm sorry." Hermione felt her heart in her throat. She was breathing heavily again and her hands were starting to shake. "I think I need a minute."

She backed into the bathroom in record time, nearly slamming the door in front of her and sitting down on the toilet, wringing her hands tightly. She didn't want this. Not here. Not right now. Maybe Harry hadn't only said he was defending himself. Maybe she'd heard wrong. Maybe Harry hadn't wanted to scare them with the truth. The man she knew wouldn't have intentionally tried to kill Draco in any context, horcrux or not.

But he tried to kill Sirius before he knew the truth.

He'd tried to use Crucio on Bellatrix.

What else had he done that she didn't even know about?

"Hermione, are you all right?" Draco's voice, though slightly annoyed, sounded outside of the door. When her vocal chords didn't allow her to answer, he spoke again. "Are you alive, at least?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

"I really don't like calling you Hermione, you know."

"So then don't," she huffed.

"I just want to differentiate between normal and me actually, like… caring."

Hermione couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Caring?"

"I suppose. Something like that. Not like I actually like you."

Through the door, she couldn't tell if he was being kind of honest or if he was trying to tease her or what his intentions were, but it was a good distraction to her brain going in a bunch of different directions she didn't want it to go. She knew she needed to work through it, but she could do that later when she couldn't hear her heart in her ears.

"Maybe you could call me something else instead. Come up with a non-offensive nickname or something for a change."

"I could call you Jean."

Hermione took a breath, looking up at him through the door. "How do you know my middle name?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She could tell he was smirking, and her eyebrows furrowed. In the span of the past month, it was almost as if everything she knew about either of them had been a lie this whole time, like she'd traveled to another dimension and the Harry she was with now was not the Harry she'd grown up with and the Draco on the other side of that door was someone who had never acted like he hated her for just existing. The first order of business needed to be getting all of this straight.

She pushed her issues with Harry to the back of her mind, because those seemed easier to handle if she was in the right headspace, stood from the toilet, and wrenched the door open, surprised to find Draco standing there with his arms crossed.

"Knew that would get you."

"How do you know what my normal handwriting looks like?"

"What?"

"On the train. I gave you my schedule and you said it wasn't my normal handwriting. How the hell do you know what that looks like?" She crossed her arms over her chest, too, mirroring his pose.

He sighed like he was annoyed again. "Snape used to let me grade essays sometimes. It's not as deep as you think."

"Is that even legal?"

"Doesn't matter anymore, does it? You like to read into things, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're trying to act like me knowing your handwriting means something. Acting like Potter lying about what he did means something. People do make impulse decisions at face value, Granger. Sometimes it's just what seems right at the time." He shrugged. "Maybe if you'd stop taking everything so bloody personally, you'd have a better time understanding people when they do something you don't like."

Hermione stood up a little straighter, a little taller, hoping some confidence would come with it. There had been way too much judgment of her character lately from people who didn't really know her. Harry? She trusted. Greenwood? She should, but Greenwood only knew what Hermione told her. Draco? He knew nothing about her. Nothing about who she was. And if he thought he did, he was sorely wrong.

"Where do you keep getting these ideas about what I'm trying to do? You haven't gotten into my head and I haven't told you any of this. You've paid absolutely no attention to me for the past seven years and now just because I'm giving you a chance, you think that you know everything about me, do you?"

"I never said that," Draco said cooly. "But we're going to be hanging out for a month. I thought you might want to get to know a little about how the other ticks."

"Hanging out? No. We're traveling. And if you're going to continue to question me until I break down and get annoyed enough to just let you use Legilimency to help me figure all this mess out instead of letting me make that decision myself, I don't want to talk to you. I didn't want to come on this trip with you, and if you're just going to be a pain in my arse, I'll register a secret Portkey and when you least expect it, you'll be sent back to bloody London, got that?"

Draco let out a chuckle and she shoulder-checked past him back to her bed. Wait… her journal. She must have dropped it. She jumped when it landed on the comforter next to her.

"Looking for that?"

Hermione cut her eyes to the side, but didn't look at him. She just hugged the journal to her chest and sighed again. "I'm going to get coffee. Would you like anything?"

"What, I can't-"

"I don't want you to come with me."

"Fine. Whatever you're getting, I'll take one too, I guess."

"Don't mess anything up while I'm gone."

"What would I even… whatever."

Hermione took a moment when she got out of the room to take a few deep breaths and center herself, trying not to get too upset about Draco's accusations. It was because of their past that she was getting so upset, she knew it was. Greenwood had even brought that up - Hermione was inherently curious, and craved information that she could use in some way, for whatever purpose she needed. Hearing everything Draco had admitted was overwhelming. It was just an information overload, something her brain didn't have the capacity to process with everything else she was worried about. She should have learned that pushing things back and trying to handle them later was just going to come back to haunt her again, like it already had, but she just didn't understand how she was supposed to immediately process all her feelings. How was she supposed to worry about what Harry was doing back at the castle, how he was without her, if that Lia girl was still writing to him (who she wasn't jealous of, for the record), while at the same time trying to figure out how to find her parents and prepare for the worse. She knew she hadn't adequately prepared. She knew something was going to go wrong and it had her on edge. Nervous that one wrong move would end all this and everything would go to shit. She couldn't afford that, not when her parents' lives were already on the line.

Fifteen minutes and a lot cooler later, she returned with two cups of coffee to find Draco staring intently at the television, which had been set on a news channel. His eyes were furrowed as he watched.

"Never seen a television before?" Hermione announced herself, setting one of the drinks on the nightstand by Draco's bed and sitting down on her own bed to take a sip.

"That what this is? I've heard of them."

"Mmhmm. You can change the channel, you know. How did you even turn it on?"

"Got curious. Started mashing buttons on it. What's… what is this? They're talking about London. What's going on?"

Hermione watched for a moment as reporters began discussing strange happenings in the UK that had seemed to slow over the past couple weeks. Disappearances and strange animal sightings. Unexplainable catastrophes. Hermione's blood ran cold.

"That's the news. The war," she whispered. "That's… that's the war from the Muggles' point of view. All those people, all those families…"

Draco hadn't looked away from the screen, but the creases in his forehead seemed to get deeper. "They were affected? Muggles? Innocents?"

"Innocents? Draco, everyone was innocent. Everyone except You Know Who." It was strange for her to revert to not saying his name again, but she didn't know how he would react, and while he was already in a decent mood, it was best to keep him that way.

"I thought he was only going after Muggleborns. But why Muggles? They know nothing about the Wizarding World. They're not a threat ."

"And Muggleborns were? You wanted to kill us just because you thought we weren't as good as you, not as powerful as you."

"They were fighting back-"

"Because we were being targeted! We have been! If I recall correctly, you wanted me dead second year. Personally. You-"

" I didn't want any of that. I didn't want any of this . I just think that magic's stronger if you're Pureblood and that it would be bad if there was no magic left because of the mixing…"

"Care to test that theory? I'll duel you right now."

Draco paused. "I thought magic was stronger," he corrected. "I thought a lot of things that I'm finding out aren't true. By the time I realized it, it was too late and people were getting hurt…"

"Monsters like that don't care about who gets in their way. Muggleborn or not. Now do you understand why I had to protect my parents?"

"But you were directly involved. These people-"

"I know."

"I don't want to watch this anymore. It's like… it's like it's happening all over again."

Hermione quickly stood and turned it off, grabbing Draco's coffee and handing it to him. "Here. The news can be cynical and biased anyway, especially if they don't know the whole truth. But it was that bad."

Draco took the cup silently, taking a sip so subtly that she couldn't even tell if he liked it or not.

"There are plenty of other stations that have other things to watch. It's just shows and movies that were all filmed on a camera and played on here."

"Like our pictures?"

"In a sense, yes. Just longer. And they don't repeat."

"Weird." He took another sip and sighed. "So what's the plan for today?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, I want to talk to my cousin before we move on, if she can. She's the only other one that knows about this plan, and I want to make sure that nothing's changed, so we'll need to go to Place Cachée." She shuffled through her suitcase for a change of clothes. "I just need to Floo her, so it won't take long, but I hope to have an answer today so that we can leave for Angers tomorrow morning." She quickly checked her watch, accounting for the small time change, and took another deep breath. "We can get something quick to eat on the way, but I don't want to waste any time-"

"You came to spend time in Paris and you're already wanting to leave?"

"We're on a schedule-"

"An hour's not going to make a difference, Granger, honestly."

"Why are you trying to treat this like it's a holiday? I know you don't have any stakes in this, but this isn't fun for me. I don't want to be here."

"If you didn't want to come on this trip, we wouldn't have, alright? So get your knickers out of a twist - and don't bring up that secret Portkey because I'm saying this - and the wand out of your arse and try to relax a little because I know if it were Potter here with you, you'd be traipsing with him all over the bloody city."

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that she would have been just as stressed, maybe even more because she'd feel like she had to protect him or be worried about not even going back to London at all, but she knew, deep down, Draco had a point. She would have Apparated to the top of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night with him to look at the stars and the view of a lit-up Paris that no one else got to see. She'd buy them wine and eat loads of cheeses she'd never heard of and enjoy truly alone time before buckling down and worrying about what it would be like to introduce him to her parents. He had a way of doing that when he was around, she'd noticed. One touch or one kiss from him and she'd be putty. It was embarrassing, really, but she allowed it. She wanted it. She needed something to be that voice of spontaneous relaxation with her, but here and now, it surely wasn't about to be Draco. She needed Harry .

She crossed the room to her suitcase to pull out the bottle of perfume, watching the butterfly move through the liquid like it was air, leaving a trail of silver glitter in its wake that disappeared as she turned the bottle. She hadn't used it out of Harry's presence, but she was curious to know how it affected her now. Hermione sprayed a little bit on her wrist and over her clothes and immediately felt her shoulders relax as the smell of treacle tarts and broom polish wiggled its way into her brain and her muscles, melting away the anxiety as if Harry really was there wrapping his arms around her and pressing kisses down her neck until she forgot that she was even in a hotel room with Draco in the first place. Once she felt a little better, she handed the bottle to Draco in curiosity.

"What does this smell like to you?"

He raised an eyebrow, but took the bottle. "What's it supposed to smell like?"

"Just smell it."

Draco reluctantly brought it to his nose and took a whiff, something coming over his eyes that made the lines in his forehead soften. "It's… hard to place. Some kind of berry? Maybe raspberry or… blackberry? And… that smell when it's about to rain. And smoke. Like from a wood fire. There's something else I can't quite place, too. Why?" He moved to hand the bottle back. "What's that mean?"

"Can you see anything in it?"

Draco turned it over in his hand. "No. What's in here?"

"I don't know. It's a perfume that Harry bought me. To me, it smells like Harry and to him, it smells like me… you don't recognize it?"

"No."

"Can you smell it on me?"

"You're asking me to smell you, Granger?"

"No! I'm just asking if you can smell anything. God, you're talking about me taking things personally when I can't even ask you a stupid question without you thinking that it's me with some secret agenda trying to flirt with you or something-"

"Fine. It smells fine. Good. But… different than what it smelled like coming from the bottle. Is that the answer you wanted?"

"I… don't know, actually. I think it may have just created more questions."

"Will you shut up about it now?"

"Just get dressed."

"And where are we going?"

"We're going to breakfast."

"So you never said. Where did you learn French?" It really was odd, sitting outside a cafe in nearly the heart of Paris and eating breakfast. She felt bad about ruining the foam decoration in her coffee, so she tried to just sip around it. It would be her last one for the day, anyway, or she'd never get any sleep.

"Mum taught me. It's… common for Purebloods to learn another language and French is the 'fanciest' and most useful. Makes you look the best to a lot of people," he shrugged.

It had been strange, standing beside him as he ordered in indeed perfect French, even throwing a smirk to the girl behind the counter that probably had resulted in her getting his order "wrong" and throwing in an extra croissant. She'd had to give up some of her money so that he could look like he was paying, which she was slightly annoyed with, but she had more important things to worry about; through her perfume, she could almost feel Harry rubbing her shoulders and telling her to just pick her battles, especially with Draco.

So here she was, watching him take in the city around him, looking at people, eating breakfast. The silence was slightly uncomfortable, but she didn't think talking would be much better until he pulled his wand from his pocket.

"Hey!" she whispered, reaching over the table before he could lift it. "You can't use that here, remember?!"

"My coffee's not hot enough."

"Well, you're going to have to deal with it."

"They're not going to notice a little warming charm-"

"Draco," she warned. "You're the one who said there are still Death Eaters out here. We can't risk anything. Just drink it faster. Maybe you won't burn yourself if it's at a decent temperature."

"Not my fault you like lukewarm coffee."

"Not my fault you've ruined all the nerve endings in your mouth."

Draco thought about saying something for a moment, then pursed his lips and slid his wand back into his pocket.

"You are smart, after all," she finished.

"Pretty sure I was better than you in Potions, wasn't I?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You just said Snape let you grade essays. You probably gave yourself higher marks than you deserved."

"He always had the final say," Draco argued. "I'm not a liar."

"Can you please just agree with me for once?" she asked over a bite of eggs. "It's a lot less exhausting."

"You've had too many people agreeing with you lately. What if I'm trying to exhaust you?"

The first response that popped into her brain was wildly inappropriate and nothing she would ever want to say out loud, so she kept her mouth shut, fighting a smile with another long sip of coffee. "This is why I don't enjoy talking to you."

By the time they got to the bronze statue that marked the entrance to Place Cachée, they were nearly an hour behind schedule. Draco had ended up ordering another coffee, but he seemed even calmer than usual. She debated asking him how he could possibly not be vibrating with caffeine, but part of her really didn't want to start up another conversation when she had a plan in mind.

So she didn't ask, just made Draco go through first so she knew he would stay with her and not wander off before walking straight through the base of the statue to find herself in a larger, seemingly more organized version of Diagon Alley. The shops stood up a little straighter, the street was more level and a little wider, but she felt as if she'd stepped back in time. Compared to the buildings of Muggle Paris, Place Cachée had stopped aging half a century ago. Even the fonts on the awnings covering doors to shops were nothing like the current ones. It wasn't very busy, especially for being a Sunday morning, but it was still just as full of life as she could imagine it normally was. She could hear music coming from somewhere, softly, ambiently.

As they started to walk past the shops, Hermione was hit with a sense of familiarity as she recognized a lot of the same products in the windows, and it almost felt like she was home. The same sweets, the same supplies, the same owls preening themselves on perches, but with a hint of a different kind of magic that enveloped that whole area. She didn't feel rushed, even compelled to stop outside Confiserie Enchantée and to look at the sugar unicorn horns and gummy snails.

"Seems so much more… civilized here," Draco said from somewhere behind her.

"Only because it's quiet. I know you stay out of Diagon Alley as much as you can," she replied, making a note to stop by Gaston McAaron's before they left. The least she could do was bring Harry back a souvenir. He hadn't been flying much lately, but she had overheard Ron talking about starting up a Quidditch team. She always enjoyed watching him play, and she really did love the idea of wearing his jersey at a game. She had wanted to do that for a few more years than she cared to admit.

"I think it's the music. We don't have that, do we?"

"I don't think so. Maybe it's usually quieter, so they needed some kind of background noise."

"Besides mindless chatter and screaming children?" One of the owls from the pet shop hooted softly as they approached. "Or you?" Draco said to it.

"Precisely." She put a hand up to the owl, a snowy one that reminded her a lot of Hedwig, and it bowed its head gingerly so that she could stroke the small feathers between its eyes. "You're beautiful," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. She knew Artemis would never be able to replace the bond that Harry had with Hedwig, and seeing Artemis never failed to remind her of how different things used to be. Some ways better and some ways worse, but when she was alone, she'd found herself mourning something she felt like she barely remembered.

Fourth year had been pretty good, except for the tournament. Her worry had been about Harry's physical safety, which seemed a lot easier than worrying about Voldemort for once. She couldn't quite remember how she felt when she found out his name had been entered, but Ron had been so mad. Harry hadn't been at breakfast the next morning. No, that was wrong. Hadn't she brought him toast? Hadn't they walked around the lake? How had she gotten into the Black Lake for the tournament? Had they wiped her memory? She didn't even remember being in there, just that Harry had tried to save her, too, which she realized afterwards. She remembered coming out of the water with Viktor, but before that… had they been in the library? She was helping Harry figure out what to do and then…

She looked back at the owl. She'd first seen Hedwig on the train when she met Harry, and thought it was amazing that he had an owl in the first place. She was looking for Trevor. She remembered meeting Ron clear as day, but as she tried to think back on her first meeting with Harry…

She knew she'd ridden on the back of Buckbeak with him, but…

Had she really kissed him on the cheek at the end of fourth year or had she dreamt that?

Why could she remember him talking so fondly about Cho? He didn't like her that much.

"Draco, something's wrong," she muttered.

"I know."

"What do you mean-"

"Just shut up and do whatever I say, all right?"

He was whispering, so she stood up straight and turned around. "What the hell are you-?"

"Dragonboy." A thick-set man was approaching them. There was a dark hood covering his face and a cloak that draped over his shoulders like a shadow. He looked extremely out of place here, but no one seemed to be batting an eye as he passed. "Look at that. You found her. Thought that was you I saw in the Prophet ."

Hermione's shoulders tensed up at the look this man was giving her. Leering, looking her up and down cautiously, as if he couldn't believe it actually was her.

"Found her?" Draco replied with practiced calm she'd believe if she couldn't feel the nerves radiating off him or the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. "She's been with me the whole time - where was she supposed to be?"

The man's eyes took her in for a couple more seconds before going back to Draco. "What's wrong with her?"

"Imperius," he answered simply in a whisper, and Hermione understood. Shut up and do whatever I say. He'd been thinking ahead. "She never would have come along with me otherwise. She was my assignment, or have you forgotten?"

The man's eyes widened slightly. "Yours? When did that happen?"

"Doesn't matter. You don't need to be on the mission anymore."

Hermione's jaw was starting to ache with how tightly she was clenching it. She wanted to reach for her wand, to show this guy just whose assignment she was, but she knew it would put her in danger. Both of them. The entire alley. She wasn't about to let more innocents get hurt just when things were getting back to normal.

Think about your parents. They need you. If you stay quiet, you can see them. They'll be okay.

"I found them, though," the man nearly pleaded. It was interesting how the power dynamic had flipped once she'd come into play. How big of a pawn was she in their game? She shuddered again. "Her parents." She stopped breathing. "Out in the middle of fucking Angers. So friendly, those Muggles. Spilled everything. If you let me take her, I can-"

"You can what?" Draco interrupted, and Hermione was grateful because the more this man spoke, the closer she got to forgetting the whole thing and taking down the Death Eater herself. How could they have said anything about her unless her curse didn't work? Had it worn off? Had she messed up and put them in danger after all? "There's no point, Sharpe. It's done. It's over."

"I can report back to-"

"To who? My father's in Azkaban. The Dark Lord is dead. There's no one for us to be loyal to anymore." He shifted to get a little further in front of Hermione, but Sharpe took notice.

"What are you doing with her, then? Where are you taking her?"

"Taking her? She's mine. I'm taking her back to London. Just wanted to make sure everything was set here. I'll wipe her memory and she won't even remember that she used to hate me."

Hermione knew he was lying. Deep down, she knew he was just putting that mask back on, telling Sharpe exactly what he wanted to hear to get them out of the situation, but something in her stomach knotted sharply anyway at the words coming out of his mouth. The implication of everything that meant was something she'd already heard at Malfoy Manor.

Sharpe smirked. "Well, I admit she's pretty, even for a Mudblood." He reached his arm out as if to touch her, but Draco had a fierce grip on the man's wrist before he'd barely moved.

"Don't even fucking think about it," he growled. Hermione was going her best to control her breathing, the fear in her eyes, the confusion about what the hell was going on with these two. Clearly some Death Eater agreement they'd discussed during the war, but the war was over. Things were supposed to be done. "Tell me where you're staying and maybe we'll come by before our trip back."

"I'm not too far from there. I've been watching them. You'll be able to find me, don't worry."

"Good," Draco answered. "You better get going before you start looking suspicious. If you're trying to fit in, take that fucking cloak off and put on some real clothes. You look like an idiot."

"Good to know you haven't changed a bit, Malfoy ."

There was a staredown for another couple of seconds before Sharpe Apparated away and Hermione nearly collapsed into Draco's chest again. He pulled her into the space between two of the shops. It was closer to him than she wanted to be, but it was out of sight of that man, and that was all she needed. Tears were rolling down her face before she could stop them. "How could he have found them? I thought I did the spell right. I mean, I don't think they remembered anything. What if he found out where we were? He could have hurt us. What if he hurt them and-"

"Granger." His hands were firm and grounding on her shoulders. "Listen to me. He could be lying. Do you know where your parents are? Honestly. Exactly where they should be?"

"I-If I remember correctly and if they went along with the plan after they moved here-"

"Just yes or no. We need to get there before he does."

"Yes. Yes."

"Take us."

They appeared across the street from a row of townhomes near the city square. It was pristine, just like Paris had been, but it wasn't as sunny, as a grey haze they were used to back home painted the fronts of the buildings in a dreariness that made Hermione nervous. A storm was coming.

"That one," she said with a shaky breath. "They should be in 205. Draco, what was he saying about an assignment?"

"That's really what you're wanting to focus on right now?" He grabbed her arm a little rougher than necessary, keeping her close as they headed across to the street and up to the front door.

"I… I thought we'd have more time-"

"It'll be easier to get it over with. If they don't know you, we'll go from there." She already had to get over the fact that Draco was standing there on the front porch of her parents' home with her, back to her, protecting her. And for once, she was grateful. If Sharpe had spotted her alone in Place Cachée, where would she be?

"And if they do?"

"Well, then that should be easy, shouldn't it?"

Hermione nodded, supposing he was right. She was a day ahead of schedule, she hadn't talked to her cousin, and nothing was going the way she'd planned, but here she was after all. Forgetting the distractions. Forgetting what she'd thought this would be like. No expectations to disappoint her or scare her. After what seemed like hours, but she knew was only minutes, she raised a fist with her left hand, slid her right onto the end of her wand in case it wasn't her parents that greeted her, and knocked, then promptly closed her eyes.

She waited a few seconds, and when no one answered, she wasn't certain if she was more scared or relieved, though her heart was beating faster than it had in a long time and she could feel blood pumping to her feet in case she had to run. Just as she was about to turn around and chicken out, the door opened.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes flew open, starting to tear up again immediately. Just the sound of her name had her in disbelief.

"Mum…"

"What… what are you doing here? Who is that?"

"Get inside," Draco turned his head to look at them. "I'll stay out here. He'll know you're with me if he comes back, but I'll give you a heads up and you can get somewhere safe."

"C-Can I come in?" Hermione asked nervously.

Her mother looked between her and Draco a few times, and, sensing the urgency of Draco's words, nodded, moving aside to let Hermione through. As soon as the door closed behind Hermione, her mother's eyebrows furrowed a little further.

"What did you do to us, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, the shock of her parents knowing who she was still keeping her unable to think clearly. "I… I, er…"

"Donna, everything okay, love?" Her father's voice floated with him down the stairs, and he stopped as soon as they made eye contact. "Hermione."

"Yeah. Hi, Dad. I… I have a lot to explain."

"You certainly do," Donna said. "Michael, put on a pot of tea, will you?"

Hermione found herself looking around the small home - at least what she could see from the hallway - in an attempt to avoid eye contact. She had no idea how to even start this conversation. Nothing she'd rehearsed involved them already remembering her. She also couldn't tell what her mum was thinking. The only thing she wanted to do was hug her, but the apprehension in her face made Hermione second guess going for it immediately. She knew if she hugged them, she'd end up breaking down, and that wasn't the state of mind she needed to be in for this conversation. Luckily, they sensed that, too.

There was a silence that hung over them, sitting in the living room with Hermione in a chair and her parents on the couch, all looking down at their teacups like they were playing a game to see who would speak first when none of them knew how to begin. Hermione could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantle, reminding her how much time she was wasting.

"I'm sorry," Hermione started, "first of all. I know you both probably have a lot of questions about everything and… I just want to start by saying that I wanted to protect you. And myself. I…" She still couldn't make eye contact, but the steam from her tea was giving her something to focus on. "I used a spell to alter your memories of me."

"What?" her mom whispered, and Hermione thought she could hear the immediate hurt and betrayal in her voice. "Does this have anything to do with that Harry Potter boy?"

"Yes."

"I always knew-"

"He's not trouble, Mum," Hermione snapped. "Nothing that happened to him is his fault."

"I was going to say that I always knew you'd do whatever it took for him."

Hermione wiped a few tears that had leaked onto her cheeks. How had her own mother known all of this while she'd spent years questioning herself? "I came back to fix it since it's all over, but-"

"There was a man who told us you might be visiting, but he couldn't tell us why we were in France. Do you know him?"

"No," Hermione answered suddenly. She knew they were talking about Sharpe, and she didn't want to think about how much he had probably already manipulated them. "That man is lying to you, whatever he says. I don't even know how he found you. I worked so hard to make sure they couldn't."

"That who couldn't?"

"You Know Who. Er, Voldemort. He's the man that's been after Harry all of these years."

"Why?" her dad chimed in.

"It's kind of a long story that I don't actually think we have time for me to explain right now, but… there are some things I've been hiding from you."

"Clearly."

Hermione closed her eyes again in shame. "There… there was a war. I thought they might come for you, so I altered your memories so that you wouldn't know I was your daughter. Even if they found you, they wouldn't have been able to find me or Harry or Ron."

"A… war?" her mom whispered. Hermione nodded, unable to tell her tone. That was one thing she hated about her mother, though it was easy to see where she'd inherited it from. Ever since she was a child, it had been hard to tell her mother's true intentions, especially when she was upset. She never knew whether she was angry or disappointed or just trying to process it all. Right now, Hermione assumed it was a mixture of all three. "You didn't tell us about a war?"

"I didn't want you getting hurt."

"And what if you had?! How would that have made us feel?"

"You wouldn't have known," she whispered. "You wouldn't have known that I even existed for you to be upset if something had happened to me." Her teeth sank into her lip as she bit back tears. "I thought it would be easy-"

"The easiest thing would have been for you to just tell us what was going on. Did you not think we would protect you?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "There are ways that… things they can do to you that are so much more powerful than anything you're capable of."

"Well, they've never been a mum, have they?" she said with a sad smile. "Hermione, did you really think we wouldn't go to the ends of the Earth ourselves to keep you out of trouble? We're your parents, darling. That's our job."

"But Voldemort-"

"What was he even trying to achieve?" her dad asked. "Doesn't magic solve a lot of problems?"

"In simple terms, blood status," she explained, clutching her hands around her cup to seep out the warmth. "He thought that people who had non-magic parents weren't worthy of having magic and he was intent on killing them all so that they couldn't reproduce."

"So… magical Hitler?"

Hermione fought a laugh that didn't seem right in context. "Essentially, yes. There are a lot of people who thought the same way. Like… the man who's been talking to you. He worked directly under Voldemort."

"And what about that boy outside? Is he… like you?"

Hermione stiffened again. "No. He's… it's complicated."

"He used to be one of them," her mom said softly. "I can see it in your eyes."

"He didn't know any better."

"There were a lot of children like that, weren't there?"

She knew what her mother meant. She'd learned about all the boys that had followed Hitler, followed their brothers, followed their fathers without really knowing what they were becoming a part of. The few who truly didn't carry as much hate in their hearts as others. She knew that one of the worst things about war was that there were innocents suffering on either side.

"He's protecting you," her mother continued. "That means he's not like the rest of them."

"Can we go home?" her father suddenly asked. "Back to our house, I mean."

"I'm not sure. The Ministry… our government… they're working to capture all of his remaining followers. At least the ones they think are enough of a threat. We didn't think that any of them would be here or near you, and now that they have, I'm afraid that more may know you're here. I do have a magical way to travel the both of you back with us. If nothing else, you can go back home and we can get Ministry protection for you."

"They'd do that?" he asked.

"I've been… rather high profile these past few weeks. I'm sure we could work something out with them if they don't agree," she sighed. "But you'd have to leave your life here."

It was clear that both of her parents were still extremely, and justifiably, concerned. They knew nothing about what had happened. She told them Harry got into trouble and gave them a tone-downed version of what went on at Hogwarts at the end of each year, but she had feared that the real scope of the war would have them prohibiting her from going back, and she didn't want that. She'd been scared to say anything after second year, scared that even a mention of a monster would keep her home. She'd barely told them anything, and she couldn't even fathom how much of a shock this was to them.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Not really. I'm sorry," Hermione sighed. She desperately wished she could give them some magic.

"This… magic that you say these people can do. Can they-"

Stone cracking was heard outside the townhome, out in the streets, as if chunks of pavement were being blown off the street. And if Hermione knew any better, that meant they most definitely were.

"Stay inside!" she ordered, springing into action at the sounds of car alarms so quickly that her mug fell onto the carpet, tea spilling out into the floor. Opening the door, she had to duck out of the way of a stray spell coming from the Death Eater in the middle of the road. Sure enough, it was Sharpe. She looked back for a split-second to make sure it hadn't hit anything before shutting the door behind her and hopping over the railing of the few stairs up to the front, landing in the short flowers next to the houses.

Colors blurred through the sky coming from her wand, Sharpe's, Draco's. He was talented enough to keep two of them at bay, and the incantations and hexes coming from the mouths of the men were spells she'd never even heard of before. She didn't want to think about what it was they did. A piece of concrete whizzed past her head and slammed into the brick behind her, grazing her cheek. God, how she wished she had Harry. Draco knew what he was doing, though. She'd never seen him fight like this. He was fighting someone he knew. Fighting his own. Fighting for her safety as much as his. Sharpe could leave at any moment if they didn't keep on him, if they didn't keep pounding him with spells without giving him a chance to breathe.

There was a pattern to his movements, though. She'd trained herself to read them in sparring with Harry and Ron. He'd shoot two spells at Draco and one at her, then one at Draco and two at her. Over and over again. He wanted to fight. This man was trying to prove himself to Draco. To prove that he was a confident fighter. That he was worthy of being trusted. If he ran from a fight, he'd be a coward. And Draco Malfoy certainly wouldn't employ cowards.

Sharpe ducked behind a parked car and Hermione took her chance, Apparating behind him before he could even comprehend she had moved and petrified him all in one move, plastering herself against the wall out of the way of one of Draco's spells he'd shot in that direction.

"He's down!" she yelled before Draco could fire again, and he sprinted across the street, panting, pulled Sharpe's wand from his grasp and replaced it with a small object pulled from his pocket.

Draco tapped the object with his wand, and Sharpe was gone.

"Where have you sent him?"

"The Ministry," he panted, looking around for any bystanders that could have seen. Lucily, no one seemed to be peeking out their windows, and there was only a couple walking their dog, who Draco petrified while he and Hermione attempted to repair the street.

It was over in minutes, but the damage certainly wasn't minimal. A couple of unfortunate cars had dents in them from the debris. The road was torn up on either side in a half-block diameter that had destroyed the once-level sidewalks and uprooted foliage, corners of outside walls were gone. They'd been fighting with abandon. At least one of the good things about magic was that all of this was back to normal in nearly the same time the fight had taken, and Draco wiped the memories of the couple before waking them up and sending them on their way, keeping far enough back that the suspicious and confused dog couldn't get to him.

When the two of them went back inside, brushing dust off of their chests and arms, Hermione's parents were shaking.

"All of that," Hermione finished as she pulled her hair up in a ponytail. "All of that and more. Are you two okay?"

They were speechless, but nodded softly, pulling her into a tight hug before she should even move. Even further, to her surprise, Draco's chest was pressed up against her back as they had pulled him into a hug as well. And as uncomfortable as she was, it was the safest she'd felt in months.

They stayed at the Grangers' house for at least three more hours before they felt they were getting short on time. Draco had suffered through a cup of tea as they explained everything that had been happening in the last two years. And at the end of it all, they were still skeptical, and even more scared of Hermione's magic, but they were proud of her and what she could do.

"Just… give us some time, Hermione. I'm sure this isn't the way you wanted to introduce us to magic."

"Of course it's not. I was hoping to just… levitate a few cups or something." She pulled out her wand again to do just that, and her parents leaned back into the couch cushions. "Okay, sorry. I just… there are so many things I want to tell you about… about Harry…"

"Merlin, don't get her started," Draco groaned, which earned him a smack on the arm.

She hadn't outlined their relationship or even broached the topic of their bond because it was well beyond their realm of magical understanding at this point, but she wanted to talk about Harry, her boyfriend . Which he would be again. She so desperately wanted it. Once she figured out what was going on with her mind, she'd be fine. She and Harry would be fine. But she needed to tell him. Maybe Greenwood could help. Or maybe… Draco had kept her out of danger. Surely that was enough to convince herself that he was worthy of trusting a little bit, right? Her mum had even said so, and she barely knew him.

Or maybe that was the problem.

She didn't want to think about it until she was back at Hogwarts, but now that she'd found her parents and they remembered her, she was way ahead of schedule. They could infer that it was indeed Sharpe who had performed the memory charm reversal on them when a picture of Hermione that she'd missed cleaning up fell out onto the street. After that, things were blurry for both of them, and they couldn't remember who they thought they used to be, either, except for what was in their house. Hermione hoped that would clear up in time, and once they were safe and back home, she could get to helping them. At least the hardest part was over.

"Do you have any more Portkeys, Draco?"

"No, I just had the one."

"That's fine." She reached into her bag and pulled out a deck of cards. "This will take you to King's Cross."

"You were serious about your emergency Portkey?"

"Of course," she said incredulously. "Go to the Ministry and let them know what's going on. They should know where my parents used to live. The three of us will travel the Muggle way. It won't be as suspicious for any more Death Eaters and it won't be as scary for them."

"But that'll take-"

"Probably until tomorrow, I know. Make sure Harry knows why you're coming back without me. I don't want him to worry."

Draco looked like he wanted to ask her another question, but took a glance at her parents and changed his mind, taking the deck of cards from her. "See you back at school, then, whenever that is. Don't forget my trunk when you get yours from the hotel room."

"I won't. Thank you, Draco. For all of this."

Draco just nodded, and Hermione activated the Portkey, praying that he was going to do the right thing. She had no choice but to trust him now after everything that had transpired in the past two days. She trusted the man watching the Muggle world suffer on the television this morning and feeling regret about the people he'd trusted.

"I suppose we'll need to pack, then, won't we?" her dad asked, trying to diffuse the tension in Hermione's shoulders with cooperation of her plan.

"Just the essentials for a couple weeks," Hermione sighed. "We can come back later and get the rest as long as we need to. I had a better plan, but that was counting on my having to restore your memories myself. I didn't think it would be this-"

"Easy?"

"Something like that."

"All right, Donna. Come on. Let's get our bags together."

While they packed, Hermione took little things from the kitchen and living room she thought they might like, considering she had near infinity room in her bag. She poured the water out of the teapot and cast cooling and cushioning charms on it before packing it in as well as a few mugs and plates. The teapot had been her grandmother's - she'd hate to see anything happen to it. Also into her bag went a few pictures of them in France. As the Wilkinses, of course, but maybe she'd be able to help them remember those times as well. The more she looked around, though, the more tears she felt running down her face at what she'd missed. All the things she couldn't tell them yet. She couldn't wait to tell Harry, though. She could finally bring him to her childhood home. They could have dinner there, spend Christmas together, and Harry could have a proper family.

She tried not to get too emotional when they came back down the stairs, suitcases in hand. "We need to stop by the Holiday Inn by the train station before we get back to London. That's where we're staying, and I need to get our things and check out." No souvenir for Harry this time, unfortunately. She'd have to come back, maybe with him. Maybe they could come to Paris after all when she had time to explore.

"Hermione," her mother whispered. "Are you… okay?"

"No," she admitted. "But I will be. Especially now that you two are safe. I packed some more from down here. Is there anything else you'll want immediately?" She nearly winced at her words - it was like she wasn't even speaking to her parents. Like these were just two strangers she was trying to keep safe. It was just her mission. She could soften up when they were back home and she didn't have to worry about more Death Eaters coming their way.

"No, I think… I think you've got everything. Where… is it all?"

Hermione smiled a little, holding up her bag. "There's an extension charm on this. Like the TARDIS. Bigger on the inside," she grinned. "I can basically put whatever I want in it. I can shrink those and put them in here too, if you'd like."

"No, that's… okay." Her mom seemed to clutch hers closer to her. "They're fine like this."

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, sticking her wand back into her pocket. "You'll want to take a car or the bus, I assume?"

"Yes. I know your way is probably faster, but-"

"Extremely unenjoyable," she laughed. "I get it. I haven't been in a car in forever, either, so it'll be nice."

It was, in fact, nice. They would most likely be safe on public transportation, and Hermione let herself relax on the ride over, leaning against the window and watching the city pass by. It was nearly three hours before they reached Paris, and Hermione realized how tired she was. She never slept well the first night on a trip. Paired with the adrenaline she'd already expended and energy she'd used trying to maintain the shield spell all night, she was also starving. Maybe she could get something on the train. Her parents accompanied her into hers and Draco's room; Hermione wasn't about to let them out of her sight even for a second. She even made them use the bathroom while they were at the hotel so they wouldn't have to go on the trip, which her father was quick to laugh at.

"Oh, how the tables have turned. 'I didn't have to go then,'" he mocked, which made Hermione smile.

"I didn't! And aren't you not supposed to force yourself to go to the bathroom much anyway?"

"And yet?"

"This is just so you don't have to go anywhere while we're on the train. As much as I hate to say it, we don't know who will be on there. We didn't expect anybody to be so close to you, either. Must have just been bad luck. Once we saw him in Place Cachée, we knew coming to get you would be dangerous."

"Place Cachée?"

"Wizarding Paris. Kind of like Diagon Alley for us. Do you… remember going there with me?"

Her father frowned for a bit, but then nodded. "I do. That was the year we met Harry, right?"

"Briefly, yes."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, looking down at her feet. She'd never had to worry about this before, but now was as good of a time as any. She wanted to prepare them, at least. How could she tell them that no, they weren't together, and they'd never actually been on a date, but they spent eight months in a tent and lost their virginities to each other and had considered themselves together until she broke up with him?

"Yes." It wasn't a lie; he most likely would be by the time he got to meet them, anyway.

"Hm."

She cast featherlight charms on hers and Draco's suitcases and packed them in her bag just as her mom was finishing up, and she did two checks of the room to make sure they hadn't missed anything before she stopped by the lobby to check out, and they were on their way again.

Hermione couldn't believe they'd just arrived in Paris the day before and she was already going back. A two-week minimum trip resolved in two days. At least that meant less time away from Harry. The quicker she could get back to him and her parents back home, the faster she could get things back to normal. And the faster she could get back into Greenwood's office to figure out what the hell was going on with her memories.