*Hermione — February 2006*

It had been nearly a month since I'd left the hospital. I'd stayed until mid-January, eventually agreeing that I had not been coping with Draco's disappearance from my life well at all. Penelope had helped me set small goals for myself. I'd put nearly half a stone of weight back on and allowed both Harry and Ron to visit me. I had started to let the people I'd pushed away over the past two years back into my life, and Penelope said that was great progress.

Once I'd started thinking of her as Penelope rather than Healer Clearwater, my defensiveness had lessened. If I was just talking to Penelope, a girl I knew from Hogwarts, she somehow seemed less threatening. She didn't think I was crazy and understood that I'd had no closure with Draco, even if she didn't know the whole story. The journaling, surprisingly, had been helping me with that. Writing to Draco, saying all the things I hadn't said in person, had been absolutely wonderful.

Both Harry and Blaise had visited me while Astoria was in the hospital giving birth. They'd both seen Draco and said he looked well. When I asked if he looked happy, they had both tried to evade the question, so I knew he had. They were trying to spare my feelings and I couldn't blame them. I'd put them both through the ringer at Christmas.

But I was actually relieved that he was happy. It would've been much harder to live with what I'd done if he was miserable.

I'd immediately returned to work, knowing the department had been struggling without me there to help. Harry hadn't returned to work yet since he was taking an extended paternity leave to help Pansy with James and Sev. I'd been spending a lot of time with them since I'd left the hospital. James was starting to be more fun to interact with and I was much happier when I wasn't locking myself away in my house. Pansy was still quite cold with me, upset with me for what I'd done to Draco and for the stress I'd caused Harry while I was in the hospital and refusing to see him, but she was slowly coming around again.

It was a Sunday morning and the snow was falling hard. I needed to venture out for some food. I couldn't Apparate into the small Muggle town without notice, so I headed to Diagon Alley, focusing on The Leaky Cauldron and Apparating away.

When I arrived, I was surprised to see it hadn't started snowing there yet. I quickly traversed the street, feeling relieved there weren't many people out and about. I was bundled up — my hair covered by my knit hat and the lower half of my face obscured by my scarf — so I hoped I wouldn't be stopped by anyone.

I explored the small market, picking out a few things to get me through the snowstorm. After paying for my purchases, I went back out into the main thoroughfare. I stood still, just for one moment, deciding that I needed to stop by Flourish and Blotts after all. I wanted to grab a new journal since the one Penelope had given me was nearly full already and I had been finding writing therapeutic. As soon as I entered the store, I knew I had made a mistake. There was a flash of platinum hair and I cursed under my breath. The hair had been long, so I knew it wasn't Draco.

Narcissa or Lucius. Lovely. Just what I needed today.

I grabbed a purple journal and quickly walked to the checkout queue, hoping to avoid an awkward run-in. However, fate was still determined to make me its bitch and I heard Lucius Malfoy say, "Ms. Granger, could I have a moment of your time?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a moment before I turned around to face him. Finally, I drew on the last vestiges of my courage and replied, "I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm in a bit of a rush today, so you'll understand if I don't want to waste my limited time on you."

Picking up my bag and heading for the door, I froze when he lightly grabbed my arm. "Please. One moment."

His touch shocked me, especially since it was gentle and his voice was soft. The shop clerk looked at us warily, and I shook my head, signaling that I didn't need him to intervene.

"One moment. That's it, Lucius," I hissed.

He walked me back into the maze of bookshelves, finding a deserted aisle to talk in. He silenced the area and I cast a Muffliato.

"I... I don't know how to say this," he stammered slightly, which was definitely not a normal Malfoy response.

I folded my arms over my chest and waited.

"I wanted to thank you. You made sure my grandson got the family he deserves, and you sacrificed your own happiness to do that."

As usual, his insensitivity and selfishness knew no bounds and I was flabbergasted. It wasn't like I had done it for noble reasons. "I didn't really have a choice! You threatened my parents. You know, the defenseless Muggles who don't even know they have a daughter or that magic exists!"

"My actions were perhaps misguided—"

"Misguided?" I hissed. "You somehow found them and were going to kill them! If you had actually gone through with it, would you consider your actions simply misguided?"

He brushed me off. "That's irrelevant since I didn't do it. Surely you can understand that I wanted to keep my family together."

My rage boiled over. "It must be nice to have that option," I began. "To use threats and powerplays and get everything you want."

"I may have pulled some strings, but you also felt guilty, Ms. Granger. I could tell. You wanted what was best for both Draco and Scorpius, and I can't thank you enough for that." He paused for a moment, and quietly added, "I heard you were hospitalised for quite some time. Are you feeling any better now?"

"How dare you! How dare you act like you care about my well-being! You don't care about me, Lucius! You barely care about Draco! You knew he didn't love Astoria and yet you made him marry her! All you were concerned with was preserving your precious pure bloodline. If you hadn't done that, maybe we could've been happy together. Maybe he'd still have his memories!"

I knew half of what I'd said was over the top; he likely hadn't been thinking about the emotional part of the marriage and, even if he had been, Draco had free will. He didn't have to get married if he didn't want to.

Lucius examined my face and he could clearly see that my emotions were still volatile. I turned and started heading for the door.

I heard him inhale a deep breath. "I thought Draco was just punishing himself for what happened during the war and that Astoria would help him move past it. And from what I understand, this... entanglement... didn't begin until after the wedding. Am I mistaken?" he said, halting me once more.

How could I tell Lucius Malfoy I'd been drunk and shagged the living daylights out of his son the night before the wedding? Should I tell him?

"You're not exactly wrong, but you're not exactly right, either," I confessed. "But none of that matters now. He's happy with Astoria, and you can all move on with your lives. I don't know why you bothered to stop me."

With eyes full of concern, he nodded at me. It was bizarre to see something resembling genuine remorse coming from a man who had likely always hated Muggle-borns and had threatened my parents mere months ago. I knew he had apologised for his actions as a Death Eater after the war, but when he had approached me about the affair, he had been just as terrifying as he was when I was a teenager.

Lucius' lips moved, like he was going to begin speaking again, and then he sealed them, likely thinking better of it. We had already caused a minor scene at the checkout, and I was sure he didn't want anyone in the bookstore to think anything untoward was going on between us. Knowing I needed to get away, I quickly thought of a way to end the conversation.

"Maybe," I began, "you should talk to your son about the war and about everything else your family went through before you make any more decisions for him. I helped him work through a lot of his issues, but he doesn't remember that now. He's likely feeling guilty and a bit like he doesn't deserve to move on with his life."

Lucius looked at me strangely again, but he still didn't speak. I nodded and left the store, praying I would never be subjected to a conversation like that ever again.

As soon as I got home, my first instinct was to head for the locked trunk again. It was nearly Valentine's Day, and I wanted nothing more than to relive the memories we'd made in Paris the previous year. I knew I had a choice — I could dive into the past once more, or I could write in the journal and try to move forward. Nervously, I chewed on my bottom lip, debating the merits of crawling into bed all day and walking through a daydream of Paris, pretending that Draco was still at my side. It may make me happy for a small amount of time, but I knew the crash would be devastating, like it had been at Christmas.

Thinking of Harry, Ron, Blaise, and James, I decided to be responsible. I summoned my in-use journal and sat down at my dining table, cracking the spine and picking up a pen. I would write to him and get this out of my system rather than letting myself drown.

Dear Draco,

I saw your father today. I think he's a bit more complex than we had originally believed he was. It seemed like he was actually concerned about me. I don't know why that matters, but I feel like it's significant in some way. Maybe he really is sorry for his actions, both before and after the war.

I know you told me you never wanted to discuss the war with him, but I asked him to talk to you today. I'm not sure how the removal of the memories would affect your guilt from the war. I don't want you to hurt forever, and I know that you won't talk to Astoria about all of those things — she just doesn't understand it like we do since she was younger and more sheltered than we were. I hope that you'll talk to him; I think you've always needed some type of closure or reassurance from him, even if you were too stubborn to admit it.

I hope that Scorpius is thriving and that you and Astoria are the kind of new parents who are sickeningly happy. That's all I wanted for you from the start of this mess. Trust me, if not for that innocent child, I would've continued to be selfish, stealing time with you whenever possible. I just couldn't take you away from him, too. He needs a father in his life full time.

It's been four months now, and I'm still missing you every day. I think my brain — my overthinking, infuriating brain as you used to call it — is making me pine enough for both of us. It knows you can't miss me properly, so it's making me pick up the slack. I don't know if it will ever stop.

I still love you.

Hermione

When I woke the next morning, the world was sparkling white with snow. It was nearly blinding, and I wanted to curl up on my couch with a book, the fire crackling in the grate across from me. Other than the times I had locked myself in the office and been fully submerged in my work, I felt more like myself than I had in quite some time. It was as if my encounter with Lucius Malfoy and my subsequent journal letter to Draco had somehow cleansed me. I knew it was likely temporary, but I soaked up the little bit of contentment I had found.

Heading to the kitchen, I made a light breakfast of toast and tea, deciding that my plans for the day didn't require any coffee. If I dozed off while reading, I'd be perfectly fine with that. My sleep was still somewhat disordered, though it wasn't as bad as it had been at Christmas. The food didn't make my stomach turn, so I ate happily. Knowing this state likely wouldn't last long, I took full advantage of it, filling myself with the necessary calories and relaxing completely.

I spent hours curled up on my couch reading through a new novel, The Time-Turner Travesty, by one of my favorite wizarding authors. It was filled with angst and romance and suspense, so it kept my mind and my heart racing. I felt like the teenaged version of myself, losing myself to the words and the ambient noise around me. Moping around for months had changed who I was, and days like this felt strange now. They weren't unwelcome by any means, but they were certainly not the norm.

Late in the afternoon, my Floo activated and a letter landed on my hearth.

Strange. Who wouldn't just use an owl?

I nearly gasped when I saw the Malfoy crest on the back of the thick, parchment envelope. I half expected it to be from Draco. Maybe his father had been racked with guilt after our encounter in Flourish and Blotts and told him everything. I didn't know if that would make me happy or infuriate me; I'd been through so much and worked so hard on making sure Draco's memories were removed properly. Maybe something had happened to Draco. Or Astoria. Or, Merlin forbid, Scorpius. I prayed that wasn't the case.

Shaking my head, I came back to reality. Lucius wouldn't suddenly have a change of heart after one silly conversation; he wasn't the type of man to move backwards after a decision had been made, and he likely knew how dangerous it would be to give Draco his old memories back. And the likelihood of something tragic befalling any of the Malfoys within the walls of the Manor was highly unlikely. Bracing myself for whatever Lucius had to say, I opened the envelope.

I was shocked to find a note from Narcissa, along with a picture of Draco holding Scorpius, looking like the happiest man in the world.

Dear Hermione,

Lucius told me about your encounter in Diagon Alley. I'm sorry I've not said any of this before now. I didn't know Lucius was forcing you to modify Draco's memory until after you'd already started, and it was too late for me to stop it. This is not the post-war life I wanted for my son. His childhood and teenage years were not happy, so all I've ever wanted is for him to find the happiness he was denied in his formative years.

I think whatever you said to Lucius yesterday has really affected him, not that I'm shocked by this. You were always known as a bright witch, and your Gryffindor nature would allow you to speak to him in a way that most still wouldn't dare. He's trying to figure out a way to talk to Draco about the war — something he wouldn't have done without prompting from an outside source in a million years. I know the rest of the world sees Lucius as a Death Eater, and that is his own fault, but he's always just been my beloved husband. Though our marriage was arranged, I fell in love with him before we even made it to the altar, and I know he reciprocated my feelings.

I know what it is to be loved by a man who is possessive and passionate, a man who wants you all to himself, regardless of circumstances or roadblocks. Knowing who you are, I'm sure you didn't surrender to Draco's advances easily. In fact, I'm sure you fought him at every turn initially. I know my son is very like his father in this way and was probably persistent to the point of being a pest until you caved to him.

I knew he cared for you when he was younger, and I suspected he hadn't gotten seriously involved with anyone because he worked with you and saw you every day. I tried to tell him he didn't need to stick with the arranged marriage, that he'd find someone who made him as happy as Lucius made me. But, as usual, he didn't listen to me. As I'm sure you're aware, Draco has always felt like he didn't deserve happiness after the war ended. He felt he should've been punished more harshly, regardless of what anyone said to him. I do know you must have had some effect on him — he seemed much happier with you in his life than he had before you began your relationship.

I'm sure you feel empty without him, like all of the fire that once lived inside of you has been doused. Other men look at you, but you can never look back at them because you know nothing will ever compare to being loved by a Malfoy. No one will ever consume you and make you feel so deeply. When I thought Lucius would be going back to Azkaban or receiving the Dementor's Kiss, I started mourning him. His actions had been despicable, and he'd allowed so much evil under our roof that there were days I wanted to kill him myself. But I never could — never would — do that. He is the other half of my heart, and I can't imagine what it would be like to live with half a heart.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this. I guess I'm concerned by Lucius' description of your appearance, and he told me that you'd been hospitalised at Christmas. I think his concern for you is genuine, even if he is the one who started this whole mess. When I look at Draco, I can see that he realizes something is different, that something is missing from his life. He obviously doesn't know what it is, but he feels an absence. When he looks at Astoria, it goes one of two ways, like he has conflicting emotions about her. He smiles at her like she's the love of his life — which is how I imagine he looked at you before this mess — or he looks at her with confusion, like he doesn't know why she's there. I know she can tell, as well. She thinks she loves him with her whole heart, but he is all she has ever known. This marriage contract was in the works before the war, when she was just a young girl...

I mostly wanted to send you this photo and thank you for your sacrifice, even if I think it was unnecessary. Families are evolving, both in the Muggle and wizarding worlds. I know it would have been a scandal, but our family has so many misdeeds to our name that a divorce wouldn't have really been considered horrible. I wish you would've come to me, or gone to Draco, rather than caving to Lucius' demands. But we cannot change the past.

Please know that Scorpius is so loved by both of his parents and all of his grandparents. We're going to make sure he's raised correctly, which is something we didn't really excel at with Draco.

However, his good nature somehow remained. You, one of the most selfless, kindest witches in history, fell in love with him, so we must not have done a horrible job with him.

If ever you need anything, please send me an owl, Hermione. We are indebted to you in so many ways, and I'll do whatever I can to help you.

Narcissa Malfoy

I studied the picture. Draco was holding a tiny baby, Scorpius, and looking down at him with awe in his eyes. It was clear that this child had stolen Draco's heart and I couldn't help but smile at the image. If he could be this happy holding his son, it had all been worth it. I'd done the right thing, even if that meant I was miserable.