A/N Um so I know it's been ages and ages since I posted, eek over two years when I checked. I'm sure everyone thought this was abandoned and rightfully so but nope I just got seriously hung up on this chapter. Trying to make it work was eluding me though I had already written the epilogue. A few weeks ago the ideas slowly came back and I've been trying to finish and polish. This hasn't been beta'd so please forgive any errors but also feel free to point them out so that I can make corrections.

Once again I take no credit for the words of JKR that I borrow for my story. Also yes I took inspiration from the movies as well as the books for this chapter, the books follow Harry and there are times we simply need to see other characters.

3/11/2000

My dear Hermione,

We have reached the memories I least want to share with you but that I know I must. There is no other way. At this point it hardly matters as you have read the transcripts and probably more than once so you know of the memories I will share but I imagine living them again will be a more emotional experience. If I could avoid exposing this part of myself to you I would but I know that that is not fair. If I could avoid putting you through these experiences I would, but I don't see how I can. There really isn't much I can say other than I am sorry to put you through this, but I need you to really know me and see me at my worst before we go any further. You need to see the worst, not just read it. You need to experience it even if the experience is just playing like a movie. As before there are multiple vials, the first has two short memories the others have only one each. I ask that you use your best judgement and trust Harry if he asks you to stop. You don't need to see them all today. I await your response, even if that response is that you never want to speak to me again.

Always yours,

Draco

Hermione wasted no time, taking Harry's hand and diving right into the first memory. They landed in a compartment full of Slytherins on the Hogwarts Express. There was little talk amongst the group.

"I would expect them to be more excited about going back with Snape as Headmaster and Voldemort in charge," Harry whispered.

Hermione pursed her lips, "We just landed in this memory how do you know they aren't excited. Look at them."

They spun slowly to take in all of the occupants of the compartment. Pansy looked bored as did Blaise, while Theo appeared on edge, sitting very tense and still. Crabbe and Goyle were the absolute picture of barely contained mirth. Draco sat staring out the window, chin on his hand, face inscrutable.

The silence continued for only moments longer until the train began to slow in the middle of the tracks.

"What the bloody hell are we stopping for?" Blaise griped looking out the window.

"They're going to search the train," Draco answered blandly, not even bothering to turn as he responded.

"What the fuck why?" Pansy asked in a huff. "Don't they know we have to get to the castle?"

"Because though even the dumbest of us," his eyes cut to Crabbe and Goyle, who didn't notice, "knows that Potter and Granger, hell even Weasley aren't stupid enough to try coming back to school they have to search anyway. No one wants to risk angering the Dark Lord. After they missed him at the Weasley's wedding and Tottenham Court. They're going to look everywhere."

"You think Granger won't try to come back. She's a bloody know-it-all but she never missed a class except when she was petrified."

Draco's jaw clenched, "And you think being a know it all she wouldn't know if she tried coming back she'd wind up dead? She'll stay hidden, she's too smart not to and she'll keep Potter and the weasel hidden too. The only way they'll survive is if she's in charge."

They all looked at each other as Harry turned to Hermione, "He's right. You're the reason we made it through. If Voldy had been smarter and less obsessed he would have gone for you before me."

"That's not due to his obsession with you, that's all because of his prejudice," as she spoke the door to the compartment slid open and a head popped in and everyone turned to see who was invading their space.

"Heya Pop," Vincent said.

The elder Crabbe merely nodded in reply as his eyes swept over the faces of the occupants.

"This one's clear," he said to the hallway and slid the door shut as he walked away.

The blond's jaw clenched as he returned his stare to the countryside out the window as the train began to once again roll along the tracks.

The world swirled around Harry and Hermione. When it settled they were back in that small version of the Room of Requirement where she and Draco had studied together.

The young man was sitting hunched over a small wireless, tapping it with his wand and mumbling. Finally he sat back and spat out a curse. He picked up the wireless as if to throw it then groaned and set it back down on the table.

He sat a moment before leaning to the side and rummaging in his pocket pulling out a sickle. He held it up and stared at it for several minutes before pointing his wand at it then dropping his wand to his side and clenching the sickle in his hand.

"Hermione I hope you're okay," he whispered as the memory faded away and once again they were in the present.

"That was better than I expected. Nothing horrible," Hermione commented.

"They're going to get worse," Harry said with confidence and reticence.

"I'm sure."

"Next one?" Harry asked, holding up a vial.

Hermione nodded then took a deep breath as he poured the contents into the bowl.

They both shuddered as the mists settled and saw that they were in the entryway of a large old Manor behind a group with Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Greyback, and several other Snatchers. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in front of them,

"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, portraits hung on the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from the chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers.

"What is this?"

The drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy came at the sight of the ragtag group.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here."

The figure slightly taller than Harry rose from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath whiteblond hair.

Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier.

"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf.

The slightly younger Harry stood avoiding eye contact and not speaking a word.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

"I can't - I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was scared to look at him.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"

"Draco if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.

"Of course not, of course not!" said Lucius impatiently. He approached Harry himself, came so close he was nearly nose to nose with the younger man.

"What did you do to him?" Lucius asked Greyback. "How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Lucius.

His gray eyes raked Harry's forehead.

"There's something there," he whispered, "it could be the scar stretched tight… Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

Draco now took his father's place nearly nose to nose with Harry. His expression was full of reluctance, even fear.

"I don't know," he said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching.

"We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. "Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord… They say this is his" - she was looking closely at the blackthorn wand - "but it does not resemble Ollivander's description… If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov."

"What about the Mudblood, then?" growled Greyback. Young Harry was nearly thrown off his feet as the Snatchers forced the prisoners to swivel around again, so that the light fell on Hermione instead.

Older Hermione gripped Harry's arm tightly and began to shake. She knew what was coming and did not want to relive the torture, but she also knew there had to be a reason for Draco to send her the memories other than just to show him not identifying Harry as was testified to in the court documents. There was something else she was supposed to see here so she tensed and fought the urge to close her eyes.

"Wait," said Narcissa sharply. "Yes - yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

Draco turned and looked closely at young Hermione, fear and pain shown in his eyes. He looked down at the ground, then peered up at her through his lashes biting his lip. She could see the apology on his face as he answered his mother the only way he could.

"I… maybe… yeah."

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. "It's them, Potters friends - Draco, look at him, it's it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name-?"

"Yeah," said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. "It could be."

The drawing room door opened behind them. A woman spoke, "What is this? What's happened Cissy?"

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners, and stopped on Harry's right, staring at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes.

The adults viewing clung to one another as Hermione concentrated on breathing in and out slowly and looking away from the scene before her, concentrated on looking at Draco as his shoulders drooped lower and lower and he wrung his hands. She saw him peer over his shoulder to her younger self with utter remorse shining on his face as Bellatrix, Lucius, and Greyback argued over who would call Voldemort. Then saw him freeze as his aunt began screaming about the sword. Jumping when she spoke directly to him.

"Draco, move this scum outside," said Bellatrix, indicating the Snatchers who now lay unconscious on the floor. "If you haven't the courage to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

The scene shifted and they stood alone in the hallway outside the drawing room behind Draco as a terrible, drawn-out scream came from the room.

The blond stood petrified, pain raging on his face.

"Hermione," he whispered. He looked around wildly as if trying to decide what to do next. He took a step towards the door into the drawing room then jerked back into the corner at another scream. His wand was in his hand nearly instantaneously and then seconds later a knife flew past the observers and into the blond's other hand.

"NO!" Hermione yelled rushing forward, only to be stopped by Harry.

"It's a memory remember, you can't do anything."

"But-" she halted tears in her eyes.

Narcissa had appeared in the doorway, "Draco," she rasped, "Get in here."

The knife quickly disappeared into a robe pocket and the wand to his side. Head dropped so that his chin nearly met his chest he trudged into the drawing room looking anywhere but to the girl sprawled on the floor bleeding from her arm or his aunt skulking over her.

"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" came Lucius's voice. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

The two observers trailed behind the blond as he moved along the edge of the room looking once at Hermione, pain shining in his eyes. They walked down the cellar stairs.

Draco stopped at the door and said with his voice shaking, "Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you."

He turned the lock, and marched inside wand held out in front of him. He grabbed the little goblin by the arm and backed out again, dragging Griphook with him. As he passed Harry, he leaned in close and said in a voice just loud enough to be heard over Ollivander's moaning and Ron's yelling, "You have to help her. I can't do anything. If I even tried we'd both end up dead."

He then continued backing out with the goblin, ignoring the confusion on Potter's face until he reached the stairs and slammed the door shut behind them. The group of four trudged back up the stairs slowly. The blonde visibly flinched and hunched over more as yet another scream tore from the young Hermione in the drawing room above.

When they reentered the room, Draco prodded Griphook to Bellatrix then moved rapidly and silently to stand next to his mother. He shifted until he was nearly behind here so that the young Hermione on the floor was out of his line of sight. They saw him bury his hands up the opposite sleeves of his robe. Hermione moved closer to him trying to see what it was he wanted her to see and refusing much as he was, to look at herself on the floor.

Bellatrix handed the sword to the goblin asking him to identify it. Griphook held it up and began to inspect it slowly and meticulously.

Suddenly there was a loud crack.

"What was that?" Lucius shouted and swirled around looking at the others. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"

"Draco," Bellatrix snarled as the blond tensed, "no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

Pettigrew slunk in from the hall and on out the other direction to the stairs. Shortly thereafter the sounds of a scuffle were heard.

"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius called down.

"Nothing! All fine!" came the response.

Bellatrix grew impatient with the goblin. She waved her wand at Hermione again sending the young girl into spasms that had her screaming once more until she ran out of breath and merely whimpered, and then moved to stand over him. "Well? Is it the true sword?"

"No," said Griphook. "It is a fake."

"Are you sure? Quite sure?" she leaned over menacingly.

"Yes," said the goblin.

Relief broke across her face, all tension drained from it.

"Good," she said, and with a casual flick of her wand she slashed a deep cut into the goblin's face, and he dropped with a yell at her feet. She kicked him aside. "And now," she said in a voice that burst with triumph, "we call the Dark Lord."

Draco began to tremble as she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark.

"And I think," said Bellatrix, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want."

With that Ron burst into the drawing room yelling; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; she turned her wand to face Ron instead.

The battle played out as it had a nearly a year and half before but this time standing outside of it rather than participating in it and being fully conscious Harry and Hermione were able to see that the jets of light that sprang from the end of Draco's wand were aimed not at he or Ron but at his aunt and the werewolf. In the original confusion no one had noticed as so many people were casting spells at once. They could clearly see that he resisted at first when Harry grabbed the wand in his hand but let go when he saw who it was and then the memory was over and they were back in the present.

Hermione unconsciously rubbed the scar on her arm as she stepped back from the table. "I, I think I need a break," she said softly.

"Take all the time you need," Harry replied, reaching out and squeezing her arm.

She nodded and walked from the room leaving him to clean up. She continued walking until she had reached the back garden. The sun was warm but the air cool and she found herself shivering though not from the temperature. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes she began to move through a sun salutation sequence. After completing the sequence three times she opened her eyes again and looked down at her arm. Pulling up the sleeve she ran fingers over the scar that remained.

Why have I never had this healed? I know it's possible. Madame Pomfrey offered after the battle, why did I say no? She wondered to herself. What's the point other than to remind myself of the toture I withstood and I did withstand it. I survived and went on to impersonate my tormentor successfully. I triumphed. Still I don't really need this to remind me of that. We all have our scars though. Harry's never had the "I must not tell lies" healed and Ron still has splinching scars. Neville, Luna, Ginny all have scars from the battle that could have been healed and none of us did. Why? Draco was so desperate to get rid of the Dark Mark. To him it's a reminder of a horrible choice. Are our scars reminders of our good, no not good, our choices for the light? Are we all just crazy holding onto those reminders? Or is it to help us never forget that it could happen again? Does it matter?

Can I forgive him? Are his actions something I can get past? Is the fact that he was doing it to save his parents and himself enough of a reason to give him another chance? He loves me and I've come to care for him through our conversations, electronic though they are. I knew he'd been there when I was tortured. It was all in the transcripts and even if it hadn't been Ron would have been happy to tell me. He hates Draco. Harry is indifferent. Ginny seems to be as well. Luna defends him and she was there at the Manor as well. She was held captive there and yet she defends him. Even with all I've seen so far and all he's told me and all I've read there is still so much missing. The connective tissue just isn't there. Is it worth trying? Should I just tell him no? Could we just be friends?

Beginning to shiver from the cool air she wrapped her arms around herself and ran her hands up and down her arms. When this wasn't enough to warm her she returned to the house. No sooner had she stepped in the door than Kreacher began to scold her for being outside without a jumper and set a cup of tea on the table for her with a small plate of chocolate biscuits.

She sat and wrapped her hands around the cup. She sat there staring into space thinking until the tea had cooled. Kreacher mumbled and muttered around her as she sat. He scolded her again but she seemed not to hear it. Finally she rose, absently thanked the elf and went back to the pensieve.

Taking out her wand, she lifted it to her temple and drew out a short silver thread that she directed into the bowl. Landing in her own memory she wondered for the millionth time how the pensieve worked. How did it show her her own memories as if she were watching a movie rather than experiencing it? How was it she saw the memory from an outsider's perspective? She had never found an answer so she let the question drift away as she watched the scene at the Manor play out again. The edges of this memory were fuzzy, hazy as they were when she simply thought about it. She could see herself, Ron, Harry, Dean, Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, the snatchers but not Draco. The way they had been tied together she wasn't looking in the right direction as the blond had examined Harry.

The moment where he looked at her was just not there. It had somehow been excised so smoothly that she would never have noticed if it hadn't been pointed out. She pulled herself back to the present and stored the memory. Looking at the table she tapped her fingers and considered the remaining memories. One question ran through her mind: Is it really necessary to finish?