The next day Hermione waited in anticipation for Malfoy to come downstairs. Every creek in the floorboards made her breath catch, and every scrape along the roof made her nails dig into her palm.

Whether or not he was here to declare his allegiance to the Order she wasn't sure. However, the idea that he was waiting in the shadows to kill them all seemed like a more logical possibility to believe in.

But he never came either way.

By the time dinner rolled around she started to ponder whether she had hallucinated the whole thing. A delusion dream caused by the overly censored fill up of food.

"Eat up, Hermione." Dean quietly nudged her under the dining table. "Cho might hex you in your sleep if you don't eat that salad."

Fred leaned across and whispered from her other shoulder, "Mate it's uneatable. I'd rather eat a flobberworm than this."

"Come on, it is not that bad." Hermione pretended to poke at the lettuce leaves. "If you just chew quickly it will be over sooner than later."

Both boys looked at each other, silently communicating that a race was about to begin. Fred dove into his bowl first and Dean followed instantly. Hermione shook her head, laughing at both of them for finding entertainment far too easily.

On the other side of the table Theo looked like he was about to be sick. He held a curled finger up at his lips and forced himself to swallow. George clapped him on his back for his bravery.

"So. What does everyone think of supper?" Cho asked the room. Her tone suggested there was a threat sitting behind the question.

Everyone collectively mumbled compliments that were far from truth. They had learnt over the months to pick their battles with each other.

"Good!" She chirped. "Perhaps I should make it every week."

Silence hung heavy in the kitchen.

Hermione cleared her throat and took one for the team, "Oh but we would miss your lasagne too much, Cho. You really should try that recipe again, it was a real winner."

"Thank you, Hermione. I much prefer the salad though. I think we all need it to balance out all the pasta we're consuming."

George winced at Hermione from across the table. She mouthed I tried and he slumped further down his chair in defeat. Theo smiled at the silent conversation between them.

Dean won the speed eating competition but soon regretted it when his stomach angrily gurgled.

It took everyone else the next twenty minutes to make their way through their painful dinner. Hermione volunteered to do the dishes despite it being Andromeda's night. It was a chore that she thought would soothe her mind from thinking about the ghoul in the attic.

As she ran the hot water into the sink, her hand began to twist on the cold tap but came to a stop when she felt the boiling steam off the stream. She watched the sink fill to an unbearable heat, questioning how much it would hurt if she stuck her whole arm in there.

The water was so hot that her forehead grew damp.

It had been so long since she had felt anything other than saddening shame. The idea of putting her hand in the sink until her skin blistered was seductive. It was teasing her with the pleasure of feeling literally anything else.

She dangled her fingers over the water. Heart thrashing inside her chest.

"I can dry if you want some help," someone said from behind.

She jumped at reality crashing back down on her, hands turning off the tap and swivelling to see Harry wheeling into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"I said. I can dry up if you want some help."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose I could do with the company."

Despite being in a wheelchair Harry still looked tall. He did not struggle to reach the dishes but could be just as irrationally upset as someone who couldn't. His helpful gesture was not out of character, it was just rare.

Hermione quietly turned the cold tap on and waited for it to cool the boiling temperature below.

"Did McGonagall say anything to you about Ginny and the others last night? After I left?" He asked as if he had been wanting to all day but was too proud to do so.

"No. I'm sorry, Harry. But I am sure that they are okay. McGonagall would have said otherwise."

"Would she have? These days I'm starting to think that things are happening out there and no one is telling us because they'll think we're incapable of surviving."

"Or perhaps it is your groundless theories that are stopping anyone telling us anything in case you do something that could hurt us all."

It was an uncalled for, she knew that the moment the words left her mouth.

"I didn't mean that," she muttered, beginning to scrub the mugs. "I'm sorry."

"You meant it, Hermione. But I suppose that I deserve it."

Harry took the wet cup from her hands and dried it off with the twirl of his wand. They cleaned silently until the tension grew so thick that it was embarrassing for someone to break it. Hermione struggled to remember a time where it was not awkward to be alone with him, so at this point it was almost natural.

Pulling the plug from the sink, she leaned her lower back against the bench and crossed her arms. "Perhaps we can suggest writing letters to people in the other houses for McGonagall to pass. That way we know each other are safe, and no owls can be intercepted."

"Yeah. Could do."

It was how Harry bowed his head after levitating the last cup away that made that dark cloud swallow Hermione's mind. She dug her thumbnail into her forefinger as a way to delay the oncoming sadness. The pressure on the back of her brain felt as if she may self combust.

"I think you and I need to start planning on what we're going to do once my legs are healed..." Harry started to explain but she soon started to lose focus in her hearing.

Buzzing of a static television starting to ring. She needed to get upstairs.

"... think of where You-Know-Who is and talk tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Tomorrow."

Her eyes started to strain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I jus- I think I need to lie down."

Hermione thought Harry said something in reply but whatever he did say, it was not heard. Her heavy legs carried themselves to the staircase landing, and the climb up seemed near impossible. The bed that called her name was so close but so far.

Her hand curled around the railing, knuckles blistering white.

"Hey Hermione! Up for a drink? Everyone's gonna play chess in the living room if you want to join."

The voice sounded like Fred, but it most definitely could have just as well been George. Either way, their invitation was politely ignored with a subtle shake of her head.

With every step up to the second floor, Hermione thought she could physically feel her heart drop to her stomach. By a miracle alone, she made it to her room. Her hands shook as the tip of her wand locked the door.

She flopped onto the bed and slammed her face into the pillow.

It was in these moments that she found herself jealous of Ron. Jealous that he got to die, that he did not have to live with this guilt, and it was that selfish envy that made Hermione detest herself even more.

No matter how overwhelmed her body felt, it refused to cry.

She had cried plenty over the war, over everyone that had died, over their failure in killing Voldemort. But now there was an indescribable anger that bottled itself up and denied her of expressing it.

Rolling onto her back, Hermione stared at the ceiling. "Breathe, you idiot." She demanded of herself. "Breathe."

There were no traumatic flashbacks that crossed her mind in these moments. In fact, she struggled to remember her own name let alone the faces of the ones she loved.

Some days they passed with ease. Other days that overstayed their welcome.

Today it was the latter.

An hour or ten minutes could have passed, Hermione was not certain, but eventually she was calmer. From what she could hear, the chess game downstairs sounded fun.

A knock on the door made her jump.

"Hermione? You awake?" Theo called from the otherside.

She knew he was checking up on her. He did most times when someone said they saw her going upstairs in a rush.

A few quiet seconds went by before his shadow moved away from under her door and she relaxed. She would just talk to him tomorrow. Slipping into the sheets of her bed, she forced herself to fall asleep. In minutes she was dreaming of the day she bought Crookshanks.

Then like a routine, midnight struck and her stomach rumbled.

Trying to pry her eyes open tonight was harder than most. A full night's sleep called but the urgency to eat whispered louder. So once again, Hermione found herself face first in the fridge looking for the leftover salad nobody liked.

It was not so bad if you soaked it in dressing.

The secret stash of biscuits was running low and the only ones left were triple chocolate. They weren't her favourite, but it gave temporary comfort. As did the block of cheese.

Hermione was a blink away from going back upstairs when she heard someone's footsteps creak on the second floor. Her heart stopped at the realisation of who it could be. In a moment of panic she hid in the pantry and tried not to breathe heavily.

Hand on her mouth, she heard the confident stride of someone walking straight through the kitchen and to the back porch. She stood pressed up against the canned tomatoes for one hundred and nine beats of her heart before she decided to peek through the pantry door.

The hinges squealed as Hermione poked one eye out, confirming the coast was clear and then stepping out completely. She put all her weight on the tips of her toes as she crept up to the kitchen window. Like her room, it had that perfect corner view to be able to see the side paddocks and the entry gates.

Just like the night before, Malfoy stood a quill's length away from the boundary wards. Hermione could see clearer tonight that his wand was twirling in between his fingers, as if he was contemplating what spell to strike.

His shoulders were broad. Broader than they had been at the manor. She wondered if they had been that lean at the Battle of Hogwarts seeing as she actually never saw him there. There were stories of what he had done and who he had tried to save, but Hermione never saw them for herself.

So maybe he did have those shoulders back then, or maybe he had built them in the attic. Either way, there was no way she was going to ask him to find out the answer.

Hermione stood hunched over the kitchen sink, staring at the blond wizard for a very long time. Her elbows had pins and needles from keeping her head upright. In a way, Malfoy was mesmerising to watch. No matter how much her brain told her to go back upstairs, her body kept her feet planted, waiting to see what he would do.

The second his shoulder moved to an angle, Hermione crouched down below the window and crawled back into the pantry. At the bottom of the door she could see Malfoy's shadow enter the kitchen. His footsteps were slowered in their return and did not hesitate as they went back upstairs.

Giving it a cautious five minutes more, Hermione tiptoed out of the pantry and raced back to her bedroom. That block of cheese did not love the sudden change in pace and as revenge it left her sort of gagging on the edge of her mattress.

The idea of Malfoy sleeping up in the attic just above played in her mind until her body begged her to stop.

She wondered if that thing tickling the back of her brain was the need to go up there or the intuition to keep her distance. No matter what it was, a Malfoy being here meant that they were all damned. He was close to evil and the last thing they all needed was someone like him to tread on their hope.

She came to the conclusion that she wouldn't tell anyone she saw him, nor would she try to figure out why he was out there. Her days of playing detective were well over.

And for the next two weeks she did exactly that.

Each night when she woke she watched from her window as Malfoy came outside, stood at the entry gates and just stared into darkness. Sometimes he stood for a few minutes, other times he stayed for over an hour. But the instant she heard the attic latch click shut, the kitchen lured her downstairs.

Every now and then Hermione worried that one night a lineup of Death Eaters would apparate at the gates and Malfoy would lead them into Harry's bedroom. It was not a far fetched fear. Other times she was scared that he knew she was watching him and was waiting for the perfect moment to drag her right back to the manor.

That fear was a little more far-fetched, but not unreasonable.

One morning at the end of August, Hermione and Cho were hanging the washing out while the boys cleaned out the stables. There were only two horses, and yet it somehow took all six boys to complete the chore.

"It concerns me how many pairs of underwear the boys go through," Cho grimaced, holding up a pair of obviously stained boxers. "Do they not care to have a shred of respect for the people who have to clean these?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Would you prefer if they openly apologised to you for what they do in the privacy of their own rooms?"

"Well-no-but it is still disturbing to think about what they do while we're all sleeping."

"It is very common, Cho. Everyone has their needs, plus I read once that masturbation reduces stress."

"Gosh, Hermione. What kind of books have you been reading?" Cho snorted as she hung a towel on the clothing line, "Did you ever catch Harry and Ron when you were camping in the woods?"

"Actually, more than once, not that either of them ever knew." A shudder ran down Hermione's back, "Silencing charms are one thing, but my eyes saw things that they will never be able to unsee."

"Gross."

Booming laughter came from the stalls behind them. No doubt a fight going down that would involve clothes needing to be deep soaked or thrown away completely.

"Did you ever, you know, sleep with either of them?" Cho asked. Clearly no shame or consideration for the sensitivity of the subject.

"No I-uh-, " Hermione swallowed a lump. "No, it wasn't like that out there. Harry and I are like the siblings neither of us had, and Ron… If Ron wanted to do something, I am sure he would not have been shy about doing so."

Cho pursed her lips and frowned. If Hermione's memory serves, Cho didn't have a lot of male friends at school, so it was unlikely that she understood the type of relationship that she shared with the boys. In fact, Hermione often worried if Ron and Harry saw her as anything other than a bloke.

"Do you remember when Lavender Brown once made up the rumour that you were caught giving Ron a- you know- by Filch in your sixth year. It was rather petty, don't you think? Everyone knew she only said it because she was upset that she was dropped."

Hermione froze with her hands on pegs, head snapping to gape at the women with the basket.

"What?" Cho gasped, hand covering her mouth. "I thought you knew!"

"I did not know! Why on earth would she ever make up such a vile rumour? I can only imagine what people were saying in the halls!"

"Some boys even said that they also got a… job… from you and that you were rather gifted in that area."

Past memories of girls giggling into each other's ears flashed through her mind like a cinematic montage. It was not uncommon for people to laugh at her and make crude jokes due to her bloodline, so the snickering was normal, but this was a whole new level of embarrassing.

Crouching down into a squat, Hermione placed her face in her hands and groaned. Cho simply laughed at her oblivion.

"Don't worry, Hermione, it blew over within a week."

"A week? A whole week people were imagining me giving one of my best friends oral sex," she gestured her hands in a way that she would regret later on, "And I had absolutely no clue."

"Like I said, not just Ron. You should take it as a compliment!"

"Well, I do not."

She stood to her feet and shook out a shirt aggressively before hanging it on the line. The boys in the stables were still laughing behind them.

"If it makes you feel any better, that rumour was nothing compared to the ones about every girl who was with Draco Malfoy." Cho said his name casually, and had no idea of the interest she just sparked.

Hermione licked her lips and stared down at the grass beneath her shoes. The Malfoy name made her left arm ache, similar to what was described as a symptom of a heart attack. As of late, that feeling never seemed to fade.

"I thought Draco was only with Pansy Parkinson? Were they not a couple?" She baited, hoping to get more information about the wizard she watched every night.

Cho seemed to pick up on her curiosity despite how much Hermione tried to suppress it. She tucked a strand of her long black hair behind her ear and leant on the pole of the washing line. Eyebrows raised.

"From what I heard they were never officially dating until after his father was taken to Azkaban. You did share dormitories with Parvati Patil, did you not?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Her sister was one of the girls that Draco Malfoy was rather fond of."

"What do you mean by fond?"

At this point the two girls had forgotten about hanging out the washing and were both standing with arms crossed, leaning on the line. Hermione wondered if this was what her schooling life was supposed to look like, gossiping about boys, rather than hunting dark wizards.

"I believe it was in fourth year when Padma was sent out of class for having love marks all across her neck, to which she told the entire school that Draco Malfoy was at fault. There had to be at least three other girls who were given detention for the same thing. How did you not know about any of them?"

"Probably because I was rather distracted in fourth year myself. Plus, I was not part of groups that really cared about those sorts of things."

Cho squinted her eyes and lifted her chin. "Krum?"

"Pardon?"

"Krum. You were distracted by Victor Krum that year?"

It was not entirely untrue. Hermione had been swooned by the Quidditch star, rather partial to being given romantic attention for the first time in her life. But Harry's typical adventures and her O. were a little more on the forefront of her mind.

"Oh, yes. Krum," she pretended. "I suppose hearsay of Draco Malfoy's love life was not very crucial in my life at the time."

"Well it was for everyone else, supposedly. There was not a day that went by where I did not hear about how he refuses to kiss girls on the mouth. That was the reason why they all had marks on their necks, you know? He said he wanted everyone to know they were his. Although there were so many girls, it was obviously just something he said in order to get them into broom closets."

Hermione could not help but look up at the attic sitting within the roof. There was a circular window that faced the sky that she hadn't known existed until now. She half expected the blond to know his name was being used and to peer down at them.

Every second that he didn't she grew a little more disappointed.

"Huh," she finally drew her eyes away. "I had no idea that such things were happening in the halls. I guess being friends with two boys gave me a rather different experience to everyone else, didn't it?"

Cho rubbed her upper arm in a consoling way, "You did not miss out on much. Be grateful that you did not have to cast silencing charms on your bedpost and cry yourself to sleep every night. The rest of us girls did."

Unsure whether or not that was hinting at her relationship with Cedric or Harry, Hermione simply shrugged and proceeded to hang out the washing.

Her head hurt in the way that it did when she hadn't drunk enough water. She wished that she could go back to ten minutes ago when she did not have a single image of Draco Malfoy in a dark room with her schoolmates running across her brain.

Silently, as Cho laid back on the grass and soaked in the sun, Hermione wondered why she was never chosen to be snogged so hard that it left bruises along her skin. It was obvious why Malfoy would never, but not any of the other boys even batted an eye.

Krum had kissed her several times in the library, though never enough to class it as thrilling. McClaggan only wanted her in exchange for aid in his Charms homework, and Ron barely had the courage to hold her hand.

Later that evening when Hermione was stepping out of the shower, she looked at herself in the mirror a little longer than usual.

Her skin was damp, glistening from the water as she ran a finger from the bottom of her throat, down the dip in between her breasts to her stomach. She had no idea whether or not she was conventionally pretty or not.

In fifth year she was told that she was lucky for having larger breasts and thin arms, but that could have been something that girls are jealous of and not what boys find appealing.

The largest insecurity Hermione had in life was how her legs were a lot thicker than most other girls. It was something that drove her mad when she saw people with skinnier ankles and didn't have holes in their stockings from being overstretched. All of the late night eating she had been doing had not helped with that either, it all tended to go straight to her thighs.

Despite having a nest full of hair on top of her head, she had been blessed with little hair on the rest of her body. However, the same girls that told her she had great breasts also made fun of her lack of grooming. By fifth year she had resorted to permanently ridding herself of hair in certain areas with charms to save herself from further crude comments.

Not that anyone would be going down there anytime soon, she still continued to use the charms anyway.

Letting her hands trail to her inner thigh, Hermione questioned if Malfoy would have thought of snogging her if she hadn't been a muggle-born. She questioned whether it was her blood that was repulsive to him or her body?

She imagined he would be arrogant in his love life like he was with everything else. Controlling, and wanting to be praised for his efforts. He would have shoved her into an empty aisle at the back of the library and forced her to be quiet despite the possessive nature of his mouth.

His hands would wander up the length of her skirt and rip the stockings at their seam, being far too impatient for her to take them off herself. He would smirk as he brushed her hair behind her ear, distracting her from the way that his fingers would creep through the elastic of her knickers.

He'd ask her if she liked how he felt inside her. Listen when she begged for more. Suck on her-

"Hermione! Hurry up! I need to take a piss!" Dean called from outside the bathroom door.

With her heart in her throat, Hermione ripped her hands away from herself and wrapped a towel around her chest.

"S-sorry!" She called out, trying to catch her breath. "Be out in a second!"

Looking at her reflection, Hermione could see just how red her face had gotten. She pressed the back of her hands on her cheeks and tried to ignore the way that her fingertips smelt.

Gathering all her clothes off the tiles, she opened the bathroom door and hurried to her bedroom. Apologies to Dean flying behind her.

She slammed her back against the wall and cupped her hand over her mouth.

Looking over her bed, Hermione contemplated finishing what she had started. Her nipples grew hard under the towel at the idea.

Then in perfect timing, something hit the floor in the attic above.

In a punching moment of realisation, Hermione shook her head viciously, trying to shake the made up scenarios from her mind.

She was lonely and deprived of touch, that's all it was. Malfoy was a Death Eater and happened to be the person she thought of when feeling insecure. If it was Seamus that had been known for seducing girls, she was sure that she would have thought of him too.

It was purely circumstantial.

In a speed she didn't know she had, Hermione changed into her pink and white flannel pyjamas and headed for the living room. Red faced and screaming, Teddy was being juggled between Fred and George.

"What is happening? What are you doing to him?" She felt a prang of panic, rushing to the infant.

"He won't stop crying!" George frantically pointed to his brother with the baby in his arms. "Reckon he's sick or something."

Fred held Teddy so awkwardly Hermione could not help but scoop him away. She pressed his face onto her shoulder and patted the bottom of his nappy.

"Where is Andromeda?" She asked.

"Fixing Theo. He got pretty bloodied up from a faulty stink bomb we threw at him." Fred explained, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the roots.

Teddy hiccupped his loud cries, making it feel like he wasn't breathing properly. Hermione switched his position so that he was lying in one arm and while the other was tucked between his legs, continuing the patting motion.

She swung him back and forth, cooing him to calm down.

"Why on earth did she leave him with you two?" She kind of laughed, "No offence."

"None taken," They said in sync.

"Probably punishment for getting Theo," George clarified. "Tell you what those bombs might be a laugh, Freddie, but not enough to get stuck with that pair of lungs."

"I reckon that too, Georgie."

Hermione shocked her head and concentrated on settling Teddy. His cries had subsided to a fretting and his little hands were clinging to the collar of her pyjamas. Hair changing from an angry red to more of a sunset orange.

"You didn't do anything to make him cry did you?" She asked cautiously.

"Look we might be pretty cruel but not that cruel, Hermione. He's a baby!" George used his hands to make his statement more dramatic than it needed to be.

With a suspicious look in her eyes, Hermione chuckled, "I just had to ask. Never know where boundaries lie with you two."

Both boys placed their hands over their heart and pretended to be offended.

"He is most likely hungry. Fred, why don't you go and get his food from the fridge?"

"Doubt mashed up carrots are gonna make the kid feel any better, Hermione. Have you tried the stuff? Nasty!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and stopped swinging the baby in her arms, "Just go and get it, would you?"

While one twin ran to the kitchen, the other remained slumped on the couch.

"How'd you just know what to do?" George asked. "Is there an instruction manual you girls get when you're born on how to do it?"

"That would be ideal, but I believe it is more of a natural motherly instinct. Or perhaps if you didn't throw him between the two of you like he was a hot potato, he might have settled a little easier."

She gave him a toothy smile to ensure the playfulness behind her mockery. George simply pulled a face in return that made her entire chest shake with laughter.

Fred came back with the mashed carrots and Hermione forced him to feed them to Teddy while he sat in her lap. It was a humorous exchange until Andromeda entered the room.

"Everything okay?" She asked, eyeing her giggly grandson.

Hermione flicked between the twins who looked as if they were waiting for her to out them. As much as she loved seeing them squirm in their seats for once, she knew what the right thing to do was.

"Everything went swimmingly, didn't it?" Hermione secretly looked at the twins who agreed cheerfully. "How is Theo? Nothing permanently scarred I hope."

Andromeda took Teddy from her arms and sat him on her hip, "No nothing too serious. I think he may have been milking the moment for attention. His hand will need a day or two to completely heal."

"Sounds about right!" Fred threw his arms in the air, "Bloody Slytherins."

All four of them laughed and made their way to the kitchen for dinner. Harry had cooked lasagne, or had at least tried to. It wasn't as good as Cho's.

From the comments circulating the table, it seemed as if the pasta sheets were too dry but the cheese was the real winner. Hermione chopped at her meal, picking chunks up on her fork and pretended to eat by putting it into her mouth but then got distracted by a topic of conversation.

In the end her plate looked as if it had been eaten but only in small portions. She promised that she was still full from lunch and would eat the rest tomorrow, fullying knowing that she'd be down to the kitchen in a few hours to finish it off, plus more.

And that is exactly what happened.

After a denial in staying up to play cards, then a dream about potions class, Hermione was awoken by the strike of midnight and a burning stomach.

Stepping down the stairs, careful to be in time with Dean's snores, she retrieved the leftover lasagne from the fridge and sat at the table alone. There was a tub full of strawberries that had called to her and she sliced the tips off before eating the entire bowl.

In the cupboard she left the knife on the shelf to pick up a packet of crisps. Or three.

By the time she had washed her dishes and dried them with her wand, Hermione started to think that there was something that she was forgetting.

Running over things that needed to be done tomorrow, there wasn't anything that was standing out. She shook the feeling off and went to tuck her chair back into the table when something caught her eye.

It was then as she stopped breathing and met the gaze of the person standing in the kitchen doorway that Hermione remembered what she had forgotten.

She was supposed to wait for Draco Malfoy before coming downstairs.