Hermione — 23 June 2007

I hardly slept at all Friday night into Saturday; the memory of Blaise and Sara's conversation kept replaying over and over again in my head. They'd had a long-term… arrangement? Relationship? I didn't even know what to label it, especially since I didn't really have any details.

Regardless of what Blaise said, it had been a relationship of some kind, and he had lied to me. He'd told me he hadn't been with anyone since I'd ended things with Draco. Honestly, that had made it easier for me to start a relationship with him. If he'd been waiting well over a year for me, I thought that he would always put me first, always choose me.

It had put me at ease, and it had been a lie.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that the lie didn't mean he wouldn't put me first, but why had he maintained a close friendship with Sara? And how could he think it would be okay for him to? Merlin, the first time Draco even spoke to me, Blaise had gotten angry. He couldn't possibly believe I'd be okay with the double standard.

Although, it was clear that he never intended for me to find out what Sara had been to him in the first place.

When I remembered the way she'd sat at our table when we'd had our first date, anger rose up inside of me, scorching my insides and making me feel sick. Blaise had sat there, chatting and playing nice with the woman he'd been fucking for an indeterminate amount of time, and I was none the wiser. Hell, he'd even teased me about being jealous of her, acting like it was silly.

I'd been a fool again.

This time felt worse, though. At least when I'd been convincing myself Draco would eventually leave Astoria, I'd been conscious of the other woman between us. Until recently, Sara had seemed innocent, like she was firmly in the friend zone.

I tossed and turned, tearing the neatly tucked sheets from the bed, struggling to feel comfortable at all. Since I'd gotten used to sleeping beside Blaise, my body was searching for a pair of arms to envelop it, the warmth of another person.

It was exactly the way it had been after Draco.

When I saw the sun rising over the trees, I groaned and cast a charm to darken the room and took a Sleeping Draught, finally giving in and knocking myself out.

The bed dipped and I felt someone settling in on the pillow beside mine. Their hand stroked over my curls, and I leaned into the touch, remembering being gently woken this way. My eyes fluttered open and I saw Blaise across from me. Everything from the previous night came rushing back.

Startling, I pulled away.

"What are you doing here, Blaise?"

He looked hurt and like he hadn't slept either.

"You said we'd talk today," he said, his voice quiet. "It's after noon. I got worried that something had happened with Draco..."

My heart squeezed, and I realised I'd leaned into Blaise's touch because that was the way Draco used to wake me.

I took a deep breath. "Can you wait downstairs?" I asked. "I'm just… I need a shower. I didn't fall asleep until after the sun came up, and I took a potion, and I want to talk with a clear head."

"I'm perfectly fine here," Blaise replied. "Go get cleaned up. I'll catch a little rest now that I know you're alright."

Swallowing hard, I climbed out of bed. I didn't want to fight with him. If he wanted to lounge there while I showered, that was fine. I would grab clothes and head to the bathroom, rather than getting dressed in the bedroom.

I wasn't comfortable being naked in front of him right now. My feelings were too conflicted, and there was so much I didn't know.

As I rummaged through my dresser drawers, I felt his eyes on me, likely trying to get a read on how I was faring. I buried everything — every thought, every emotion, every annoyance — and went about my business.

While in the shower, I thought about what I was going to say to him. I didn't know if I should try to hear him out or simply end things. I was so angry, especially now that I was more awake. Even though I was embarrassed, I'd have to admit that I'd gone to Sara's under the Cloak and listened in on their conversation.

I knew Blaise would blame all of my misgivings on my recent contact with Draco, but that wasn't it at all — I felt like I couldn't trust him if he'd started our relationship with a lie.

That was one thing that Draco didn't do — he didn't lie to me. Yes, he broke promises and hurt me like no one else ever had, but he was honest about everything.

As I dried off and dressed, I tried to build myself up and get ready for the confrontation. Mentally, I made a list. I wanted to talk to him about the stag party, the morning of Draco's wedding, and Sara. It was a short list, but it felt like so much.

When I stepped back into my bedroom, I saw Blaise laying on my pillow, his face burrowed against it, fast asleep. Taking a few moments, I looked at him and thought about our relationship. Everything had been so easy and felt so right, especially before Draco came back. It had taken me a couple of months to fully open up to Blaise, but once I had, he became everything to me. I'd built my new life around him.

The thoughts of a future — of a wedding and babies and the life I had thought I wanted — still scared me. I hadn't felt that way with Draco. In fact, I had longed to be married to him, to give him everything he ever wanted…

I didn't have that with Blaise, and I wasn't sure if I should keep waiting for it to grow. It was clear that he loved me more than I loved him and, while that made things easy for me, it wasn't fair to him. And, after the lies, I was feeling more hesitant than ever.

Sitting down on the mattress, I laid a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

His dark eyes opened, meeting mine, and I tried to smile. "Hey. Let's go talk."

"I know where this is going," he murmured, reaching out and cupping my face. "What has he done to you?"

"What I need to talk to you about doesn't really have anything to do with Draco. It's about you and things you've said or done," I replied, annoyed that he was already trying to shift the blame for my anger to Draco.

With a groan, he sat up. "Tesoro, what I've said or done in the past, it doesn't matter. I'm with you. I love you. I've loved you for years."

"But that's the thing," I began, nerves turning my stomach. "You love me, but you've been lying to me."

"When have I lied to you?"

Breathing deeply, I looked him in the eyes and said, "I borrowed Harry's Invisibility Cloak last night and went to Sara's. I heard you talking to her."

Immediately, his defenses rose and his jaw twitched in anger. "You were trying to catch me doing something I shouldn't have been."

"I couldn't stop thinking about how you were there with her last Friday, and I saw her with you in the Pensieve memory of Draco's stag party," I explained, my throat tightening as I forced the words out. "From what you said the morning after, I knew you'd slept with her—"

"You should trust me!" he spat. "We've been together six months. Have I given you reason to doubt me?"

"I can admit that I did this more because of my own insecurities than anything else." I paused, trying to figure out how to say the next part. "But you should have been honest with me about your relationship with Sara from the beginning."

"Why, Hermione? It didn't change anything. I had stopped sleeping with her before we were together, and it only would've made you more skittish about starting something with me," he replied. "She didn't matter. We went back to being just friends."

I scoffed. "Are you kidding me? Did you hear the things she said last night? That she's basically waiting for us to break up and she'll welcome you back?"

"That doesn't matter. She and I have been friends—"

"Fuck buddies," I corrected, interrupting him.

Narrowing his eyes, he climbed off the bed. "Fine. Whatever. Yes, we had sex on and off for years."

"Years?" I hissed. "And you got upset the first time Draco talked to me in the office?"

"I was never in love with Sara," he spat, his anger growing. "She and I had a no-strings attached sexual relationship. I didn't want more than that from her."

I stood and started walking towards the bedroom door, needing to take this argument anywhere else. He grabbed my arm, stopping me. When I turned and looked up at him, I said, "We're going downstairs. I'm not having it out in here."

After he'd let go, I made my way down the stairs and saw the trunk on the table, the Pensieve beside it. I thought of Draco — Draco, who had usually been honest with me to a fault. Draco, who had kept my secrets and not told them to his friends.

Pansy had said Blaise was like Draco, only available. That's what made me examine Blaise in a new light. But, ultimately, they were different. Blaise hovered, was overprotective, didn't think I could handle things on my own.

He followed me closely, speaking the whole time. "I just don't even understand how you could possibly think what I had with Sara was anything close to what you had with Draco. You nearly killed yourself over him."

"I did not!" I replied, whipping around to face him. "Yes, I had problems—"

"You were barely eating at all! I had to coax you—"

"Stop!" I shouted. "Can you please just stop reminding me of how I was when I was at the lowest point in my life?"

"Can you please stop heading back there?" he asked, settling his hands on his hips. "That's what you're doing, Hermione."

"I'm not," I stated firmly. "You think I am, but I'm not. I'm going to show him how things didn't work between us."

"You've had two nights of watching yourselves fuck," Blaise snarled. "How is that showing him what doesn't work?"

I knew he was right, but I wasn't going to admit that. I already knew what I'd be showing Draco next, and it definitely wasn't a happy memory filled with shagging.

"And you know that things changed for me as time went on! Or have you conveniently forgotten that now?"

"Nothing about this is convenient for me," he replied. "I can feel you pulling away. I've felt it since the first time he came back into the office."

As I looked at Blaise, trying to figure out what to say, I started piling my hair on top of my head. He watched me, reminding me of the way Draco used to watch me get ready in the mornings.

"Listen," I began, wrapping a tie around my hair. "I can't help how you feel. When Draco first came back, I stayed away from him. He asked me for help on a case and you became a completely different person."

"Because I knew he wouldn't be able to control himself! Especially now!"

Sighing, I pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. I gestured for Blaise to take the one beside me, but he shook his head.

"Well, seeing as he called me a deceitful bitch last night, I highly doubt that's the case." I leaned my elbows on the table and rubbed at my temples, closing my eyes as I tried to dull the ache forming in my head. "Blaise, I need you to realise that doing this — showing him the memories — is hopefully going to give both of us closure."

"Or it's going to reopen all your wounds," he retorted. "This isn't good for you, Hermione."

"Well, neither is putting my trust in someone who lies to me." When his lips parted to speak, I shook my head. "There is no point in denying it. You lied to me. You've been making me fake promises for over a month now. And lying to me since the beginning."

"And you've been lying to me, too. You haven't been fine," he snapped. "No one involved in this whole fucking mess is fine."

"I can admit that," I conceded. "But why would I tell you that when you're clearly upset already? Hovering over me? It would've made you ten times worse!"

"And what did you mean by fake promises?"

"How many times have you said you'll stop with the jealousy—"

Growling in frustration, he interrupted me. "Fine. I can't! And it's ridiculous that you even think I'd be okay with you spending time with Draco."

"Working with Draco," I corrected.

"And how many times did you fuck him at work, Hermione?" Blaise asked. "Did you think you were discreet before? Fucking in your office at every opportunity?"

My cheeks flamed and I looked down at my hands.

"I would never do that to you, Blaise," I said quietly. "I would never cheat."

His eyes moved around the main living space, taking in the trunk, the Pensieve, and finally the mantle. When he noticed the dragon beside the otter, he stiffened, but he didn't say anything.

I realised that he'd artfully directed the conversation away from Sara, deflecting my questions and making me feel like I was somehow in the wrong.

"How long did you sleep with Sara for?" I asked, looking up at him.

He shrugged. "I already told you it was years."

"How many?"

"Probably over three, on and off."

Three years. He'd had something long-term, even if it wasn't exclusive.

"And when did it stop?"

I could see how nervous he was.

"Last summer. Probably July, but maybe August," he answered. "I swear, Hermione, it was before I even told you how I felt."

"You still lied to me. Do you know what that does to me? How it makes me feel?" When he didn't answer, I continued. "Do you know how many times he told me he wasn't sleeping with Astoria? And then, out of nowhere, she's pregnant. What if that had happened again?"

"I was always careful before you, Tesoro."

Shaking my head, I said, "Do you think Draco was really trying to get Astoria pregnant? I'm sure he was careful, too."

"But I didn't get Sara pregnant." After a few seconds of silence, I heard him take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. "I understand that I shouldn't have lied, but I didn't want to end up in this situation."

"What situation?"

"One where you didn't trust me to talk to her or see her," Blaise replied. "Yes, I had sex with her. Yes, we travelled places together from time to time, but obviously that died down."

"How am I supposed to just believe that you stopped last summer?"

Blaise finally took the chair I'd offered to him, laying a hand on my thigh. "It didn't mean anything. I've wanted you for years. She was just a… friend. Someone to pass the time with." His hand squeezed. "Once you were ready, when it seemed like you were getting better, I broke things off with her. I love you."

As much as I wanted to say those words back, I knew I didn't feel them in the way he wanted me to. Especially not right now.

"I know," I said quietly. "But I can't wrap my head around the lies, Blaise. I've trusted you more than anyone over the past few years, and you just—"

"I'm sorry." He started to lean closer, his lips landing on my cheek and moving towards my ear. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

His breath against my skin made goosebumps pop up on my arms, my heart skip a beat. Recognising that he was well on his way to distracting me again, I laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

"We're not having sex," I stated. "Nothing here is resolved."

His head hung. "I know that. But I haven't seen you in days, not really, and I just want to kiss you."

My teeth sank into my lower lip, debating, but I knew myself. A kiss could sweep me away, could make me temporarily forget a lot of things.

"Will you come to Penelope's with me? On Monday?"

Blaise looked shocked. "You want me to come to therapy with you?"

"You said I've been lying to you. If you come with me, you'll hear the truth of how I'm feeling," I told him. "I can't guarantee that it will be all good, but it'll be honest."

"I don't know if I can stomach listening to you talk about him for over an hour." He leaned back into his chair, giving me the personal space I'd lost. "I'm sorry, but after waiting so long, it's killing me to see you even consider him again."

"And how long did you wait?"

I saw anger flash behind his eyes. "A lot fucking longer than you know."

The conversation was moving in a different direction again, and I knew he was on the verge of breaking, of telling me something. I kept pushing.

"Why don't you tell me then?"

He laughed, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Fine. We can talk about it at your appointment on Monday."

"Monday," I repeated, even though I wanted to know now.

"Am I allowed to stay here? Or do you need more space?" he asked, his voice mocking.

Shrugging, I said, "I'm not myself right now. I'm angry with you."

"I'm pissed at you too. It's like you can't even see what's right in front of your face—"

The Floo rang, putting a stop to Blaise's words. I walked over and knelt in front of it. A moment later, Draco's face appeared and my stomach clenched. Blaise stepped up behind me and laid a possessive hand on my shoulder.

"Granger," he greeted, his eyes darting to Blaise's fingers. "I know we're supposed to meet tomorrow night, but this is bullshit. I want to get it over with."

"Sunday wasn't a problem for you last night," I answered, trying to figure out how to handle this situation.

Blaise crouched down. "And I'm here now, so unless we all want to watch the little scenes together—"

"STOP!" I shouted, slamming my palms down on the floor. "Just fucking stop."

They were both shocked at my outburst. Narrowing my eyes at Draco, I said, "Whether you see memories today or tomorrow, it doesn't matter. Go home to your wife and son." I turned to Blaise, shrugging out of his hold on me. "And here we go again with the jealous, possessive shit. You should go home, as well."

When neither of them moved, I stood. "Or, how about this? You can talk to each other, and I'll head out to do my errands."

"Hermione—"

"Granger—"

I spun on the spot, Disapparating out of my own house to get away from them.

Draco — 24th June 2007

For what seemed like the thousandth time in an hour, I checked my watch. It was nearly six, and I was getting ready to head to Granger's little house again. I hadn't been able to track her down after she'd Apparated away the previous day. Blaise and I had argued about who was responsible for her disappearing act but, deep down, I knew we were both at fault.

Like Granger had suggested, I spent the rest of the day with Scorpius. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't feel like I could tell her that I'd ended things with Astoria. Not until I took official legal steps, and I wasn't ready to do that yet, either. I'd spoken with Astoria, agreeing to move back into the house to spend more time with Scorpius. I'd taken up residence in our guest bedroom, right beside his, and she'd left me to my own devices.

While packing up my belongings at the Leaky, I'd looked around the room, trying to remember anything else about the first night I'd spent with Granger, but there was nothing. It wasn't surprising — I knew the memories wouldn't come on their own. She'd told me that.

At precisely six, I stepped into the Floo, hoping she hadn't closed it off to me after yesterday's altercation. The green flames swept me away, and before I knew it, I was stepping out into her living area. As I did, it struck me that I'd likely done it hundreds of times before, even if I didn't remember it.

"Granger?" I called. "Are you home?"

There was no answer.

I felt my adrenaline start to spike, my senses sharpening and my heart speeding up. The main level of the house was relatively open, and I didn't see her anywhere. The handbag she carried to work every day was on the dining table beside the Pensieve and the trunk with my memories, leading me to believe she was here somewhere.

Looking towards the stairs, I mentally debated searching the house, thinking of the reasons why I should or shouldn't. Firstly, we had an appointment, and she should have been here when she was supposed to be. It was rude to keep me waiting. I could very well go looking for her.

But, at the same time, I thought I should respect her privacy. Maybe she hadn't wanted to see me after yesterday's debacle. Or maybe she was in bed with Blaise and they had a Silencing Charm up.

That thought didn't sit right with me.

What if she was hurt? Or had gotten drunk and passed out?

My mind was racing with the possibilities, and I ran my fingers through my hair nervously.

"Fuck," I muttered, moving towards the stairs.

Even if I hated her for what she'd done to me, I had to make sure she was okay.

I moved calmly, even though I felt more anxious than I had in years, taking the stairs one at a time.

When I got to the top, I instinctively turned left. The door was closed but not locked. As I turned the handle, I felt my heart pounding against my sternum.

"Granger?" I repeated, my voice steady. "Are you here?"

My eyes scanned the room, looking for her. The bed took up the majority of the space, though she had a rather large wardrobe with a mirror atop it and a bookcase in there, as well.

But she wasn't there.

I frowned and tried the two other doors to no avail; one led into the bathroom and the other to a second bedroom.

Slowly, I admitted to myself that she just wasn't here and hadn't bothered to cancel on me. Once again, my anger flared and it fuelled me to do something really fucking stupid.

I walked back into her bedroom, determined to find something I could remember.

As I knelt in front of the bookcase, opening texts at random, I was shocked. One shelf — a whole entire shelf — was devoted to books that I had given her. The rest of her bookcase had been orderly, the titles arranged alphabetically, so the shelf had stood out. It was an anomaly.

On the first page of each book I'd given her, there were notes, and the messages grew more and more personal, more and more pointed, as time moved on.

Meet me tonight? I need to see you.

Happy Birthday, Granger. I hope you have a few bikinis. If not, you'll be spending the weekend in Mykonos completely naked. I'm taking you away to celebrate. And no, I won't be sending flowers this year.

Granger, this one made me think of you. Let's get away this weekend. It's been too long since it's been just us. How does Paris sound?

I was so distracted by the little notes I'd left her, reading them over and over again, that I'd missed the sound of the Floo activating and footsteps on the staircase.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, I replied, "Finding out about my life through notes since you weren't here—"

"Most people would just leave," she commented. "But, as usual, you just do what you like."

I scoffed, rising to my feet and leaving her books on the floor. When I turned around, I could see she looked exhausted. She was leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed over her chest protectively.

"Well, Granger, I wasn't sure if you were up here and then I got angry and curious when I didn't find you."

Shrugging, she said, "I don't have the energy to get mad at you right now. And it's not like you haven't been in here before."

The thought of all the time I'd spent in this room and couldn't remember made me feel uncomfortable.

I took a few steps towards the doorway — towards her — and she looked nervous. "Shall we go downstairs and get tonight's torture over with?"

Granger pressed her fingertips to her eyes. "I suppose I could show you something. I'm just drained."

"Lead the way," I said, ignoring her comment even though I felt the tiniest pang of worry.

She sighed and turned, making her way back down the stairs.

"So, after your birthday, we sort of…" Her voice trailed off until she took a seat on the sofa. "Well, we kept at it. I always told myself it was the last time, and you would agree with me, and then we'd find ourselves locked in a file room or my office. It was all physical—"

"For you," I interrupted, knowing it was so much more than that for me, even with my memories gone. "It was all physical for you."

She gestured to the armchair, and I took a seat.

"Yes, for me. It was more for you." Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked straight at me. "And I think I always knew that. Somewhere along the way, it became more for me, too."

"So are you going to show me more shagging?"

Shaking her head, she said, "No, I'm not. I'm going to show you the first time I tried to end things."

I watched as she pulled the memory from her mind, knowing that it would hurt like hell. The silvery strands clung to the end of her wand, fragile and wispy.

"Accio Pensieve," she murmured, and it came towards us, landing on the coffee table with a soft thump. "Draco, I'm exhausted. Do you want to just watch this one on your own and we can talk about it when you get back?"

Before I could stop myself, I asked, "Are you okay?"

"I will be. Everything is just… It's a lot right now. And Blaise..." She paused, glancing over at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk to you about this. Suffice it to say, I'm just not sleeping well and I can't settle down enough to rest."

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "I understand that more than you know."

Granger chuckled bitterly, the sound so different from her normal laugh. "Oh, I know you do." She gestured to the Pensieve. "Go on. Let's get tonight over with."

Reaching out, I touched the memory and was swept away, landing in Granger's office.

The door was closed and I saw my memory self sitting across from memory Granger. Her desk calendar was turned to August, giving me a rough estimate of when this had happened.

"We can't keep doing this," she began, cutting right to the chase. "You're married, and it's wrong."

Memory Draco glared, but he didn't speak.

"It was fun while it lasted—"

"Don't you dare say that," he hissed. "Don't you dare act like it was nothing."

Granger rolled her eyes in the infuriating way she always had since Hogwarts.

"It is nothing, Malfoy. It has no potential. It's a doomed relationship that isn't going to go anywhere. Why should we prolong it?"

At her words, pain crossed my past self's face, though it was only for a second.

"It has potential," he replied. "You know it does. I know you can feel—"

"Feelings don't matter in this situation. In fact, I'm putting a stop to it before there is more attachment. We had sex. A lot of sex, and it was—"

"Don't you dare say 'fun' again. This wasn't just a bit of fun for me."

Memory Granger looked down at her hands. "Fine. It wasn't just fun for you. But it was for me."

"You're lying, Granger." Rising to his feet, memory Draco moved towards the door. But, before he left, he turned and said, "But keep telling yourself that you felt nothing over the past two months. Maybe you'll eventually believe it."

I watched my past self walk out the door of her office, slamming it behind him. Before the memory skipped ahead, I saw tears in Granger's eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand, but it was clear that she'd be crying for a while.

The next scene must have been a few days later. Granger was standing in the middle of the DMLE, speaking French to a man who had to be some sort of diplomat. Glancing around the room, I found my past self sitting at a desk, his eyes fixed on her. When the French bloke touched her arm and made her laugh, I could see how angry I'd been.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" Frenchie asked.

Memory Granger smiled and nodded. "Can we meet at the French restaurant in Diagon Alley around seven? Or, if you'd prefer, we can go somewhere else. I just realised—"

He cut her rambling short, smiling and kissing the back of her hand.

"It's a date."

She glanced over at memory Draco and he shook his head, looking away.

Time jumped again, and I found myself in the restaurant she'd mentioned. Memory Granger was walking through the door, Frenchie's hand on her lower back. Again, I scanned the room. When my eyes landed on a shock of white-blond, I hissed in discomfort.

Memory Draco had come to watch Granger and brought Astoria along as a cover. Fuck, I'd been just as stupid then as I was now.

And, of course, Granger spent the entirety of her date avoiding memory Draco's eyes, focusing on flirting with her Frenchman. But memory Draco's eyes rarely strayed from her. He was monitoring her movements, waiting for an opportunity to corner her. He kept up the ruse, talking to Astoria and making her giggle, but his attention was focused on the other witch in his life.

When memory Granger stood from the table and made her way to the loo, memory Draco followed her.

In the bathroom, Granger stood in front of the mirror, her face stressed. When memory Draco entered, he locked the door, and I noticed the way her shoulders stiffened.

She was clearly upset and sending every nonverbal signal possible to him.

"What are you doing, Granger?" memory Draco asked quietly. "Why are you denying that you want this?"

"You know why. This is wrong, Draco. You're married."

Resting his chin atop her head, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her firmly against his body. As I watched the scene, I found myself wishing that I could truly remember what it felt like to hold her close like that, to have the scent of her hair and perfume right under my nose, to feel her body heat radiating against me.

A flush rose in memory Granger's cheeks and she squirmed, eventually turning and looking up at him.

"Let me go."

The words held two meanings; she wanted memory Draco to let go of her both physically and metaphorically. But I already knew he wouldn't — that he hadn't — so his reply didn't really surprise me.

"I can't. You're all I can think about."

And that was true — even after I'd been Obliviated, she had lingered in my mind. I found myself thinking about her more and more after I returned to work. Eventually, she had become my focus again.

"Go back to your wife. I'm going back to my date," memory Granger spat, clipping the words.

I could see the jealousy memory Draco felt in his eyes. They were hard, cutting, steely.

"Are you going to take him home with you?"

Playing the game perfectly, she shrugged. "I haven't decided."

"Don't," he pleaded. "Please don't make me watch you leave with someone else, Hermione."

"It's none of your business what I do."

Finally, she pulled away and made her way out of the loo, never looking back. I was forced to follow her back to her table, so I wasn't sure what memory Draco was up to — if he was still hiding out in the ladies' or if he'd just popped into the mens'. While she resumed the chatter with her date, her eyes kept jumping towards the short hallway that led to the toilets.

A few minutes later, memory Draco reappeared and she immediately averted her gaze, pretending to focus on her date. But her eyes kept bouncing back up, and it was clear that memory Draco knew she was watching him. He leaned into kiss Astoria, feigning happiness, and memory Granger's hair seemed to fill with static.

"—continue this night back at my hotel?"

My attention snapped back to memory Granger and her date.

"What?" she asked, surprised.

Frenchie smiled at her and said, "We've had a nice night. I was hoping you'd want to continue it."

I watched the conflict on her face, the way her breathing sped up the tiniest bit. She was panicking, looking from her date back to memory Draco and Astoria, whose fingers were interlaced atop their table.

Fuck, I had been such a hypocritical, jealous wanker.

"I've really enjoyed myself, but I don't think that's such a good idea," memory Granger replied, giving him a sweet smile. "How long are you here for?"

"Just a week," her date replied. "I'll be leaving next Wednesday."

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and his eyes focused on it. "I'd love to go out again before you head home."

With a smile, he said, "I'd love that, too."

A split-second later, I was in the casefile room in the Ministry and memory Granger was flipping through a folder, her eyes focused on the words in front of her. When I looked towards the doorway, memory Draco was standing there, watching her.

"Are you going to speak to me?"

Memory Hermione shook her head. "Why should I?"

I had to agree with her in this case. She was right to freeze him out.

"Granger, you know this is more than—"

"It's not," she interrupted, her head snapping up. "It's nothing, Draco. It's a dirty little secret between the two of us, and it's not healthy."

Stepping fully into the room, memory Draco closed the door behind him, locking it with a wandless spell. He leaned against a shelf filled with case folders and binders. Memory Granger looked at the door like she was praying it would pop open, but at the same time, she took a step towards memory Draco. I wasn't sure if it was subconscious or purposeful, but she went with it, taking another and another until she was standing in front of him, noses nearly touching.

"What we had—"

"Have," memory Draco corrected her. "What we have."

"No, had," she replied. "What we had was an affair. You're not available, Malfoy. You're a married man."

"I'll make myself available," he responded. "Granger, I'll be there whenever you want me to be. I need you."

Her resolve was visibly faltering, the indecision on her face telling me more than her words had. Memory Draco realised it too. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't."

"Hey," memory Draco soothed. "You can. I'll always be here when you need me, Granger. And if you want more than what we have, all you need to do is ask."

And I knew, then and there, that she had eventually asked and I hadn't followed through on what I'd said to her.

Looking up at him, she said, "I need time."

He sighed and readied himself to release her. But before he could, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, kissing him hard, her fingers weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Memory Draco groaned, his hands moving down to her arse and grabbing.

They were kissing like it was the last time they'd ever have the chance, and I wondered how Granger had kissed me when she knew it would be the last time. Was it like this — passionate and desperate with roaming hands? Or was it calmer — slow, sweet, and lingering, like she was memorising every part of me?

For a moment, I thought present Granger had decided to show me shagging again. Before memory Hermione and Draco could get to that point though, the door sprang open and I saw Blaise standing there, a look of disgust on his face.

"Mate, what the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, his eyes bouncing back and forth. "Are you two seriously playing grab-arse in the filing room? What are you playing at? You're married."

Memory Granger's face turned scarlet and she dropped her head, resting it against memory Draco's chest. I focused on Blaise, though. While he'd been glaring at memory Draco initially, his eyes dropped to Granger's arse, to her thighs. He was blatantly checking her out, and I recognised the look on his face.

He was jealous — absolutely seething with it.

"Give us a minute, Blaise," memory Draco hissed. "I'll come find you."

Squirming away, memory Hermione said, "No, it's fine. I'll just… He's right. I'll go."

When she disappeared from the file room, the memory sequence ended and I found myself back in Granger's living room.

But not for long.

The memory she had shown me closed a gap — completed a connection — and it continued in my head.

Throwing up a Muffliato, memory Blaise said, "Let me repeat myself. What the fuck are you doing?"

"I can't help it. I need her. I can't forget—"

"You can," he said. "And you absolutely fucking should."

"Blaise, you know how long I've wanted her," memory Draco replied, desperate. "She wants me. Gods, I fucked up. Why did I go through with that wedding?"

"Because it was the right thing to do, Draco. You and Astoria had already settled on everything. You would've humiliated her—"

"But I'm miserable now!" Within the confines of my memory, I saw my past self pacing, running his hands through his hair. "Granger is all I can think about. Once wasn't enough. Fuck, I've had her a hundred times now, and it's still not enough."

I watched memory Blaise, and I saw the flash of anger — of jealousy — in his eyes again. He'd wanted her then, maybe just as much as I had. He'd never even mentioned it.

"Then you need to divorce Astoria, mate."

Memory Draco laughed miserably. "I can't do that. Not without Lucius' approval or death."

"Man up and ask him," memory Blaise said, even though his words were choked. "You can't keep carrying on with her like this. It's not fair to Hermione, and it's certainly not fair to Astoria."

"Do you think Hermione actually wants to be with me?"

"Well, she's shagging you, yeah?"

"You know just as well as I do that shagging doesn't mean anything," memory Draco replied. "I know how to push her buttons better than anyone else. We have that tension between us — always have."

"Ask her, then." He shrugged. "Ask her what she'd do if you left Astoria."

"She told me she needs time to figure it out. I already told her I'll give her whatever she wants."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Draco," memory Blaise warned as he shove his hands in his pockets. "You, Hermione, and Astoria are all going to end up hurt."

"Yeah, well, I'm hurting either way."

When I came to, Granger was in front of me, kneeling with her wand in her hand. I could see the concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay, Draco?" she asked. "Fuck, you just zoned out. Maybe this isn't a good idea—"

Before she could spiral, I interrupted her. "The memory continued. Apparently you didn't get everything."

Shock settled over her features, parting her lips and widening her eyes. "What?"

"I remembered the conversation I had with Blaise after you left the room," I clarified. "Fuck, I wonder how many times this is going to happen."

She didn't move, just continued to kneel in front of me. I was slumped in an armchair, and I wondered how many times we'd been here before, maybe in this exact position.

Pushing my fringe back, I let out a huff. "Granger, I'm fine. Go back to your spot on the couch."

She stood and stretched, her eyes never leaving mine. When she raised up on her tiptoes and her back arched, I wanted to groan. The way she was positioned and the way her body trembled with the strain of the stretch… It sent my brain on a path it shouldn't be on.

"What did you think?" she asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Of what?"

As she settled back onto the couch and covered herself with the blanket, she replied, "The memories."

My eyes squeezed shut. "Mostly that I was an absolute arse."

"You were, especially at first," she replied with no hesitation. "Using Astoria to make me jealous and trying to manipulate me."

"But you were no better," I said, not willing to let her forget. "You knew I was watching you."

"I know, but I was single. I was free to do what I liked."

While she had a point, her actions had definitely been more malicious than that. She'd wanted me to notice her, to be jealous of the bloke she was going out with.

"So, what happened next? Did I follow you on your second date?"

Granger laughed. "There was no second date. He ended up finding some witch from another department to have a shagfest with before he went back to France."

"Obviously you and I—"

"Picked things back up, yes." Turning to face me, she gave a weak smile. "And, after that, things seemed to get a bit more serious."

I nodded, trying to sort through what I was feeling. I was still angry with her for showing up late, but her exhaustion and resignation had tempered that. While I knew I didn't forgive her for what she'd done, arguing with her would get me nowhere.

"Did you—" I paused, unsure if I should ask this or not. "Did you watch the memories you showed me? Or just pull them at random?"

She seemed confused by my question. "I pulled scenes I remembered clearly."

"I think you should look at the last one, when Blaise finds us," I said, getting to my feet. "And you need to talk to Hannah, Granger."

"Why Hannah?"

Sighing, I said, "Because I had a conversation with her a couple of weeks ago, and I think you need to know what she told me about Blaise."

Her hands went to her hair, pulling it up and twisting it into a knot atop her head. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because it needs to come from her so you know it's the truth," I stated.

As I stepped towards the fireplace, I noticed the otter and dragon were gone from her mantle. My eyes lingered there and she must have known what I was looking for.

"They're back in the trunk," she offered.

I nodded, though the pain that radiated from my chest was unexpected.

"Draco, I…" Her voice trailed off, the words dying on her lips.

Facing her again, I waited for her to continue.

"I'm sorry," Granger said, standing up. "I should've been here when I was supposed to be. I'm just — this is hard for me, and Blaise—"

"I get it," I replied, even though I wanted to lash out and tell her I didn't fucking care how Blaise felt about all of this. "It's not easy for anyone."

There were tears welling in her eyes again, and I knew she was losing the battle against her emotions. I didn't want to leave her alone, but I knew I couldn't stay, either.

I couldn't be the one to comfort her.

She had said it already — all we ever did was hurt each other.

Granger had Obliviated me. Lied to me. Conspired with my fucking father, of all people. She had jumped from me to Blaise — my best mate — and yet I still cared about her, despite my anger and how much I felt like I fucking hated her for throwing away what we'd clearly had.

I couldn't forgive her, let alone comfort her.

It didn't matter that I felt like I would give fucking anything to stop her tears, to make her smile again.

I shouldn't have felt that way. She'd done this to herself — to us — and it didn't matter why.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, making myself head for the Floo.

"Tomorrow?"

As I grabbed the Floo powder and tossed a bit into the grate, I nodded and replied, "I'll be at work. I need to speak to Mel and get back to the case."

She let out a deep breath and I wasn't sure if she was shocked or relieved.

"See you tomorrow, then."

I called out my home address and stepped in, turning to face her. Her eyes had widened, making the tears even more evident.

She must have thought I was going home to be with Astoria, that we had reconciled.

Without even trying to, I'd hurt her again.