A/N - I almost forgot how to even post on here! LOL! Apologies for another long break between chapters, but I did finally send my yearbook off to print today so that year-long labor of love is finally complete!

Anyway, onto the story!

Chapter 12: Trust Thyself

November 27, 2003

Ms. Granger,

Regarding your request to move the hearing date of the Werewolf Reformation Legislation Act 1738 due to your recent personal injury, the Wizengamot has rescheduled to hear your proposal for the reformation of current werewolf legislation in Courtroom 3 at 9 a.m. on December 17, 2003.

Sincerely,

Lionel Porter, Order of Merlin, First Class

Chief Warlock, Wizengamot, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ministry of Magic, Floor 2

November 27, 2003

The letter from the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot fell from Hermione's hands and onto the floor as she stumbled backward until the backs of her legs hit the bed. In just a few short weeks, she would be expected to defend what was apparently her own proposed werewolf legislation to the entire Wizengamot. As far as she remembered, she'd just finished her training. It was too much, too fast. She couldn't breathe. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. Without a second thought, she grabbed the letter and ran down the hall toward the Floo, yelling out the last place she remembered calling home.

More change greeted her as she landed in the kitchen that wasn't quite the same and ran down the hall to the drawing-room where she could hear Harry's muffled voice. Without knocking, she ripped open the door and felt instant regret.

"I'm sorry! Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry," she spluttered as she quickly spun around to face the door from which she'd entered. Not once in her mind had she ever considered that she might walk in on her best friend being straddled by Pansy sodding Parkinson on the sofa she'd helped him pick out when they'd moved in together immediately following the war.

"Hermione!" Harry yelped as something banged against the floor and fabric rustled behind her.

"Relax, Granger," Parkinson drawled, obviously rolling her eyes even though Hermione couldn't see her. "You've only interrupted the start of what you think you saw."

"I didn't mean to…see that. I'm sorry, but I didn't know where else to go," she admitted. "I can come back later," she offered quickly, mortified by intruding on such an intimate moment in a place she'd always felt comfortable.

"Please don't leave," Harry stopped her. "Is everything alright? Did something happen to Malfoy?" he asked worriedly.

"No, nothing like that. He is fine…well, I haven't actually yet seen him this morning, but he was fine when I went to bed last night."

"For the love of God, turn around. We're all covered," Parkinson insisted. "Why did you leave your flat wearing only your pyjamas? There better be an emergency for you to leave the privacy of your bedroom like that," she sniffed, looking Hermione up and down in utter disgust.

"Are we really friends?" Hermione demanded angrily. "You seem to still hate everything about me." How could she even associate with someone who so clearly despised her? The dark-haired witch stood, folding her arms across her chest.

"You think I hate you?" she asked with a slight shake in her voice. "You and I get along so well because we tell one another exactly how it is with brutal honesty. We trust one another, and I adore you, Granger!" she exclaimed, snapping her arms to her side and squeezing her fists into tight balls. "You're the only real female friend I have," she whispered as she stared off to the side with glossy eyes, clearly hurt by Hermione's reaction. An array of emotions crossed her former enemy's face as she stood there more frustrated than in all the years they'd known one another.

At that moment, Hermione knew she needed to trust the witch she had become over the last few years even if she couldn't remember how or why she'd chosen Pansy as a friend or fallen for Draco Malfoy for that matter. Things might be different, but that didn't mean she was worse off. Her entire life, she'd been practical and logical, so it only made sense that all the decisions she'd made to bring her to this point would have been well thought out. If Pansy said they were friends, then there must be a good reason why.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized, crossing the space between them and wrapping her arms around the Slytherin witch. "Of course, I would value your honesty even if I can't imagine myself ever caring about fashion."

"Well, don't offer a half-arse apology just to spare my feelings," Parkinson sniffled, hugging her more tightly. "You care about fashion now because people take you more seriously when you are put together rather than dressing as if you were a frumpy, old hag," she explained, backing away slightly but still holding onto Hermione's hands. "I care about your fashion because that is my business, and I'll not have you embarrassing my brand just because you can't remember that I've been styling you for the past four years," she said pointedly, leading Hermione to sit in an obsidian Bergère chair, where Sirius used to smoke his pipe and tell Harry stories about his old adventures with James Potter.

"Tell us what has you so upset," Harry said, placing his arm around Pansy as she settled beside him on the sofa.

"In a few weeks, I'm expected to present a proposal for werewolf legislation in front of the Wizengamot," she said, holding up the letter. "And I just don't see how I'll be able to do it. I know nothing about what I'm presenting nor do I recall any high-stakes cases I may have worked on in the past," she admitted shamefully as she held her head in her hands.

"Why didn't you speak to Malfoy about this?" Harry scratched the back of his neck as Hermione raised her head in question. "He's the one that's been helping you with this case all along," he shrugged his shoulders as if talking to Malfoy was the most obvious solution in the world.

"The two of you have already done most of the work for your case, so I don't really see the big deal," Pansy said matter-of-factly.

"Speaking in front of the Wizengamot isn't a big deal?" she questioned, exasperated that such an opportunity could be dismissed so casually. Pansy and Harry exchanged a knowing look in that annoying way couples do.

"Since when is Hermione Granger intimidated by anything?" Harry challenged, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like this is your first time speaking out for mistreated beings. You've been doing it your whole life," he chuckled.

"You're wasting time here. Go home to your fiancè, and let him help you since neither of us can," Pansy smiled widely.

"Not that we don't want to," Harry hurried to reassure her.

"Nor do any of us believe that we actually have the attention span to be of any use," Parkinson said, motioning her finger between herself and Harry.

"But please let us know if you need anything within our capabilities," Harry laughed, elbowing Pansy, who was giggling beside him.

"You two are impossible!" Hermione jumped out of her seat, ready to leave.

"Granger, wait!" Pansy called as the curly-haired witch started to storm away.

"What?" she snapped, turning toward them with her arms folded across her chest.

"You might not remember the last few years, but you do know who you are at your core has never changed."

"Who am I?"

"You, Hermione Granger, are a triple threat. Brilliant, beautiful, and brave," Parkinson ticked off on her fingers. "Whatever it is you set out to accomplish, you will, even if the path to get there is hard and long," she winked at her.

"-Er…thank you, Par-, Pansy."

"Oh, goody! Back to my first name already!" Parkinson popped off the sofa and wrapped her arms around Hermione. "Now, go home and allow Draco to impress you with that big, boring brain of his," she winked suggestively, releasing Hermione and offering her a grin. "He's not just a pretty face, you know."

"I'm beginning to discover that," Hermione replied as she turned to leave. If the pictures clipped from The Prophet and Witch Weekly framed on the wall in the master bedroom were any indication, she and Malfoy rather enjoyed one another's company quite well. They appeared to be happy together, especially in the photographs that featured them completely unaware of the photographers. Behind the safety of the locked bedroom door, she would admire the looping scenes of them having breakfast together, strolling through Diagon Alley hand in hand, and her favorite was the two of them dressed in formal attire as they smiled fondly at one another while Hermione held up their clasped hands.

It wasn't just the pictures. Yesterday, they spent the day together. Malfoy patiently answered all of her questions while flirting unabashedly. It had been difficult to reconcile the sneering boy she once knew with the charming man he'd become. As the day wore on, she realized he was witty, and she never had to explain anything to him. Outside of her professors at Hogwarts, Hermione spent plenty of her conversations with people making sure they understood. It was exhausting.

If his behavior toward Hermione wasn't enough to go on, the stack of old Prophet articles Blinky had not so subtly handed her was also helping to assuage her doubts about him. Over the years, the wizard had donated unspeakable amounts to various worthy causes, bought a Muggle restaurant, and completely turned around his father's company. It was obvious Draco Malfoy had changed no matter how many times she tried to second guess herself.

Draco stood with his mouth ajar as he witnessed Hermione race down the hall and through the Floo. What happened? Had he come on too strongly the previous day and chased her away? All his bravado was a way to hide, without Occluding, how nervous he was that she might not fall for him a second time. Perhaps, he'd read all of her signals wrong. Were her shy smiles and flushes of color signs of discomfort rather than enjoying his playful teasing? Pacing the length of the room, he attempted to dissect each moment of their conversation. By the time the Floo whooshed again, he'd worked himself into a fright.

"You came back," he breathed, standing still as if he might frighten her. Hermione's eyes slowly drank in Draco's early morning appearance.

"Were you worried I might not?" she asked with a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Through their own volition, his shoulders raised in a shrug, and Hermione giggled. Giggled! "You've been quite unbearable, you know."

"Sorry, I—" Draco began to apologize for his apparent untoward behavior, but she cut him off, holding up her hands in surrender, a piece of parchment bearing the Ministry seal held tightly in the fist of her right hand.

"I'm kidding, Malfoy!" Hermione assured him, taking a step closer. He was hypnotized, unable to look away. "You've been…" she faltered, cheeks brightening as her gaze fled from his. Suddenly, Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, a set thought, determination morphing into courage. "I enjoyed our time together yesterday," she said pointedly, immediately restoring Draco's confidence.

"Where were you off to this morning dressed so smartly?" he winked, dragging his eyes over her nightclothes approvingly. As hideous as her kitten-covered shorts were, they showed off her shapely legs, and he was starting to salivate just taking a peek at the thin fabric of her camisole, which left little to the imagination.

"Parkinson didn't seem to like my choice of an outfit either," she smiled demurely.

"What makes you think I don't like it?" he asked with a devilish grin as he allowed his gaze to take another leisurely tour of her form. When his eyes met hers again, heat had spread from her cheeks and traveled down past the low neckline of her top.

"They told me you might be able to help me with this," she spluttered, clearing her throat and biting her lip in the most tantalizing way as she held out the parchment she'd been holding.

"They?"

"Harry and Par-, Pansy. I went to theirs because I wasn't sure what this was about," she gestured toward the parchment. "and they told me you'd been…helping me?" she said it like a question. Draco read the letter she'd handed him with disgust. Those bureaucrats knew her situation, yet they would try and make her plead her case regardless of the circumstances. They wanted her to fail. When his gaze met hers, she was staring at him anxiously.

"Do you want me to be honest with you?" Draco asked. She nodded, her shoulders sagging in defeat as if he were about to deliver bad news. Unable to stop himself, he reached for her, tipping her chin up, so she could meet his eyes. "You can do this because you believe in this cause with all of your heart regardless of whether you remember all the evidence you've collected over the years to support your proposal or not. We will work together until you have as much confidence in yourself as I have in you," he assured her. Hermione smiled and stood a little taller.

"You surprise me, Draco Malfoy," she stared at him in disbelief, but her words made him grin.

"I look forward to the day when the way I truly feel about you no longer takes you by surprise," he leaned closer to her as her eyes grew large, "and I'll be able to stupefy you in other ways," he whispered suggestively in her ear, close enough to hear her short intake of breath and watch the gooseflesh spread across her skin. Perhaps, he was pushing things too quickly with Hermione, but her response to him when he wasn't holding back by Occluding tempted him to test her limits.

Before he could scare her off, he quickly backed away and summoned the case files they'd amassed over the past few months. Draco spent the remainder of the day refamiliarizing Hermione with the history of the case. It was against his better judgment that he decided to tell her that she'd brought this legislation to the Wizengamot before. The news brought her low, but by the time Blinky served the evening meal, Hermione had a fresh determination to move forward.

December 6, 2003

Draco Malfoy was both a blessing and a curse. The proof of his transformation over the years was right in front of Hermione. It was in the way he cared about the injustices to werewolves almost as vehemently as herself. There was passion there that she couldn't ignore. His work ethic was admirable, but when she thought of it, she supposed he'd always been that way though it'd been imperceivable with the facade he hid behind in his younger years. He was intelligent, a characteristic of a man Hermione never realized she'd yearned for until she spent most of her time with him. Worst of all, he was an extremely handsome flirt, a distraction far beyond any adventures and near-death experiences that stole her attention during her days at Hogwarts. She couldn't focus. As much as he helped her, which was quite a bit since he was quite familiar with the case, he also preoccupied her mind with constant daydreams, starring him.

"Must you walk around in just a towel?" she huffed when Draco knocked on her door early in the morning, startling her from another fantasy. Hermione felt like a pathetic schoolgirl whenever she lost herself in these frequent musings, but she could tell she wasn't alone with her lustful thoughts by the way he looked at her when he thought she didn't notice.

"I can drop it if you like," he smirked, moving his hand to where the towel was knotted on his hip. She wasn't sure how long she stared at the muscled plane of his abs before he cleared his throat, but the grin on his face suggested that it was much longer than was socially acceptable. He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of their Floo silenced whatever lewd and tantalizing words were on his tongue.

"Hermione Granger, you better have a good reason for sleeping through my wedding!" Ginny called as her feet pounded through their flat toward the bedroom.

"Ginny!" Hermione answered happily, tears stinging her eyes when she realized how much she missed her friend.

"And here I thought we were waiting until the wedding night," Ginny said with an exaggerated wink as she raced down the hallway toward them. Hermione glanced at Draco's half-naked form and felt herself flush with Ginny's suggestive words. "Move out of the way, Malfoy," the ginger witch pushed Draco playfully and wrapped her arms around Hermione.

"Excuse me!" he griped without malice, smiling as the two witches embraced.

"You're excused," Ginny swatted him away. "I'm here to tell my friend all about how I've been shagging your best mate senseless since she's been in the hospital," she laughed. Hermione was taken aback by their easy candor. It made sense that they'd be friends in this new life with the wit and sarcasm they both possessed.

"Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?" Draco teased her. His gaze drifted to Hermione, and his eyebrow suddenly furrowed in determination before he closed the distance between them and swiftly dropped a kiss on her cheek. Although he was grinning widely as he backed away, his pale skin flushed from his ears down to his muscled chest. Hermione could feel her face burning as well. This was the first time since she woke in the hospital that Malfoy had been so bold as to touch her intimately, let alone kiss her even if it was only on the cheek. Her heart was pounding. She craved more. In less than a week, he'd slithered his way into her heart, and she'd actually come to desire him.

"Apparently, I'll be getting an earful of juicy gossip myself," Ginny said suggestively before pulling Hermione into the room and closing the door in Draco's shocked face. The ginger witch turned toward Hermione excitedly. "It's about time you two shagged! Draco was completely barmy while you were out. Did it happen the first night you woke up? Tell me all about it!" she squealed with delight.

"That's not…we haven't…Well, I still don't really remember my life from before, and he's been extremely…accommodating," Hermione replied, a bit flustered.

"What do you mean you don't remember?"

"The last four years of my life are just…gone…I can't remember any of it," she said sadly. It was so very frustrating having to hear about herself rather than just knowing. How desperately she wanted to be the witch that was ready to take on the Wizengamot, the strong girl who'd grown into a confident woman, and most unexpectedly, she wanted to know the Hermione Granger that had fallen for Draco Malfoy. What had she done to win him over so completely and vice versa?

"Damn that Harry Potter and his dramatics! He'd sent me an owl wishing Theo and me well and only informed us that you'd finally awoken. He told us to see him straight away when we arrived home, but we came here instead," Ginny said, slapping her palm to her forehead. "He probably didn't want to ruin our honeymoon, so he kept all this from me. I'm so sorry!" she said as she wrapped Hermione in another hug.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm glad Harry didn't ruin your honeymoon. I'd have felt awful!" Hermione exclaimed though the ginger witch waved her off.

"It must be so strange for you to wake up in such an opposite reality than you'd ever imagine for yourself. How are you doing?" Ginny asked, a small frown sadly replacing the bright grin she'd had when she'd arrived. In those early days after the war, Ginny and Harry were sort of happy for a short time, but Hermione always felt that under the weight of the Wizarding world's expectations, they were better suited as friends than lovers. The youngest Weasley was truly happy now, and it didn't seem right to steal her joy. Hopefully, Hermione's memories would return one day, but Ginny would never be able to get back this newlywed bliss. It didn't seem right to bring her down just yet.

"I'm fine, Gin. Malfoy has been very patient with me, and I'm actually enjoying his charm," she smiled. "But I want to hear about you! You've no idea how I've missed you this week!" she squeezed Ginny's hand.

It was all she needed before spilling everything about Theo. It wasn't just about the sex, though Ginny went into extreme detail about that part of their lives, but it was also about the little nuances of their relationship that showed Hermione how truly in love she and Theo really were.

"Did you know he paints?" Ginny asked. Hermione shook her head. She hardly remembered Theo from school at all, so aside from him being sorted into Slytherin, she knew next to nothing about him. "Not just a rich-boy-with-a-hobby kind of paints, but like really paints," she gushed. "I took him out flying with me on our trip, and when I woke the next morning, he'd turned our private bungalow into an art studio. I can't wait to show you what he's working on. You'll practically feel like you're on the broom with me…it's incredible!"

"That's wonderful, Gin. He sounds like a lovely man."

"He is," she sighed contently. "Now I need Parkinson to tell me where I'm supposed to hang the painting in my obnoxiously large home since I have no idea how to decorate. Can you believe I live in a bloody manor?" Ginny shook her head with a chuckle.

"No, but I can't believe much about our lives right now. It all seems surreal to me," Hermione laughed.

"I think you'll be surprised with how pleased you are with the way things turned out for us," Ginny smiled, grabbing Hermione's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"I think I already am."

Eventually, the witches joined their respective matches in the drawing-room, the two wizards discussing something in low whispers. Theo began to offer Hermione a hug before stopping himself and offering her his hand instead. His eyes were very kind, and she almost felt guilty for not remembering him.

As the afternoon passed, Hermione became more and more comfortable in the company of the newlyweds. Witnessing Ginny and Theo together rather than simply hearing about them made it very clear the Ministry had gotten their match right. If the Ministry was correct about pairing them and Harry with Pansy, it seemed likely they'd been right about the compatibility between herself and Malfoy. Hermione looked over at him sitting on the sofa across from her just in time to catch him watching her. He smiled shyly, embarrassed by being caught, but she held his gaze.

"We'll just be going," Theo announced abruptly. "Perhaps, we'll have a dinner party soon and invite all our friends."

"I'd like that," Hermione said, finally tearing her eyes from Malfoy and rising to bid their guests goodbye.

As she watched the couple disappear through the Floo, a flash of something, maybe a memory, crossed her mind. A fire roared, Draco pacing back and forth as she watched him from a tall wingback chair. His eyes brimmed with tears as he apologized for that awful night in his drawing-room, the one burned in her brain forever. He was sincere. He meant every word. It was the day she learned she could really trust him.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked, suddenly beside her, his hand placed gently on her lower back. She hadn't even noticed him move closer to her. Hermione nodded slowly.

"I think I…remembered something," she admitted with a grin, turning toward him. It was her first true memory of the missing years of her life.

"What did you remember?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"It was the moment I first knew I could truly trust you," she replied as she reached for his, pulling him closer. Her hands slid around his neck, and she rose on her toes to meet him as his lips crashed down on hers.

A/N - I think it is easier to trust someone when you know how they feel about you. Draco doesn't try to hide his feelings, and I think it makes it a lot easier for Hermione to feel comfortable around him.

As always, let me know what you think!