Disclaimer: Not my characters.

After that night, things changed between them. When Ron and Harry visited the following day with a bag of clothes, and Draco sat beside her, letting his arm drape possessively over her shoulders, she leaned into his touch in spite of Ron's glare. When Draco's mother came by with clothes for him and a stern look, she stayed sitting tall, and when he held her hand—causing Narcissa Malfoy's eyes to widen and soften all at once—she gripped his fingers with equal fervor.

The doctors started to come back after a day or so. Their magic, which was depleted by being around her, had rejuvenated after a short amount of time, which gave Hermione hope for Draco. She had no delusions that he'd stick around forever if this wound up being incurable, so now that she knew he would get his magic back no matter what, she chose to enjoy these moments with him, as they made her feel like she'd never felt before.

She'd fallen into a rhythm with him in their cramped little room. Meals were delivered by healing staff. A portable shower had been brought in, since using magic to stay clean wasn't an option. Hermione had requested a few books be sent and they spent their evenings talking, laughing, reading, and being intimate. And for nearly two weeks, this was their life.

It all felt too good to be true, so on day 13, when a healer camera and told them that they'd exhausted all their resources, Hermione was disappointed, but not surprised.

"Surely there's something—" Draco said, but the healer just shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," she said, shaking her head. "But there's nothing more we can do."

Draco sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and put his hands into his blue jean pockets. "Well Granger, looks like we're moving this show to your flat for a bit," he said.

"Actually," the healer said, grimacing, "we can't allow that." Draco wheeled on her. Hermione stood beside him, arms crossed over her chest, anticipating what the healer was about to say."

"Excuse me?" Draco said, his voice taking on that angry edge that she was familiar with from their childhood. "What do you mean you can't allow us to return to her home? You're kicking us out of here, are you not?"

"Yes, sir," the healer said, blanching, "but with Ms. Granger's particular affliction, you see, well—"

"I can't live in a magical neighborhood anymore," Hermione said, the cold realization of what her future held sinking in far too quickly. "The wards here kept the people in St. Mungos safe, but in my flat—" she trailed off as tears welled in her eyes. "I'll have to move to a muggle city." Her voice broke at the end.

"Yes," the healer said, looking relieved that she didn't have to say it. "I'm so sorry," she said, avoiding Draco's angry glare as she ducked out of the room.

Hermione stepped away to look out the window, through the golden sheen of the ward that had been placed around her room. She'd gotten used to the faint golden light everywhere and realized she would miss it.

Behind her, Draco was moving around. She couldn't bear to face him yet, though she knew she would have to sooner rather than later. She closed her eyes as fresh tears welled up and dripped down her face. It wasn't until he huffed, exasperatedly, that she steeled herself to face the music.

She turned, expecting him to be gathering his things, and stopped short when she saw that he was gathering her things as well, tucking them both into the few bags that they had.

"This would be a lot faster with magic," he grumbled as he tried to shove a poorly folded pair or pajama pants into the bag. "Why is folding clothes so difficult?" he asked himself.

"What are you doing?" she asked as tears dripped onto her shirt from her chin.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "I'm packing our things. I would think that was obvious."

"Well, yes, but—" she took a deep breath as she stepped forward, "why are you packing our things together?"

At this, he stopped, a half-rolled pair of socks in one hand. "You've got to be kidding," he said. "Please tell me you're kidding, Granger."

She shook her head and closed the distance between them. "Draco," she said, taking the socks from his hand to hold his fingers in hers. "Being with you has been—" she laughed as fresh tears blurred her vision. "It's been more than I ever could have imagined." She sniffled as he furrowed his brow. "But there's no cure for this curse." She took a deep breath. "There's no cure, which means I have to leave wizarding Britain." She squeezed his fingers and continued. "Your being here with me has meant the world to me, but I cannot—I will not—ask you to give up your life."

Draco stared at her for a long moment. He slipped his fingers from hers to gently grasp her upper arms. "What if you aren't asking me?" he said, inching closer. "What if it's my choice to follow you into muggle Britain?"

Hermione closed her eyes, causing fresh trails of tears to fall. "If you left now," she said, her voice a whisper, "Your magic would come back. You've been here for longer than anyone, so it would take time, but it would come back." She opened her eyes and caught the look of longing on his face. "You don't have to live without your magic, but I do." She disengaged her arms from his hands and placed her fingers on each side of his face. "I care about you too much to let you make a choice you'll regret."

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a kiss. She tried to pour all of her feelings—about him, about their time together, about all of this—into that kiss, but knew she fell short. When she pulled away, she was shaking. She stood on her toes to press her forehead against his.

"I want to come with you," he said, his voice a whispered growl.

"Draco—"

"No," he said, moving away from her to pace. "No, you don't get to make this choice for me," he said, raking his fingers through his hair in the way that made it stick out all over. "You don't get to choose my future."

"Draco—" she tried again.

"Hermione," he echoed, stopping to look at her. "You don't get to tell me I can't be with you unless you can tell me you don't want to be with me."

There was a moment of tense silence. "I can't tell you that," she whispered after a long moment. He visibly relaxed.

"Let me come with you, then," he said, stepping into her again, using his long, warm fingers to brush her curls off her cheeks.

"It's not fair to you," she said, sniffling.

"Why can't I decide what's fair to me?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks.

"Draco—" she half sobbed and he pressed his lips to hers. "I don't think I could stand always wondering if you were going to regret following me into a magic-less existence."

For a moment he stood and stared at her, then his eyes closed as if he were in pain. She prepared herself for the end of them.

But, as he often did, he surprised her.

"I want to come with you," he said, still stroking her cheek bones with the pads of his thumbs, "but I want to do so in a way that will leave us both knowing we have what we want." He exhaled and his breath tickled her lips. "So here's my proposition: we'll find you a muggle place to stay, and I'll return to wizarding Britain." He swallowed heavily. "I'll stay until my magic comes back." He swallowed again, his thumbs never ceasing their caresses. "And once I have it, I'll make my decision then—to come back to you, or to stay here." On her cheeks, his hands trembled. "Would that be enough to ease your mind?"

Hermione stared up at him—at this man who had transformed from a hated childhood rival to the man she wanted to be with more than anyone else—and felt her heart crack. She knew his intentions were pure, but if he went back to his magic she was almost positive he would stay there with it.

But instead of voicing that, she nodded and smiled, rewarding when he let out a relieved sigh as well and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Hermione moved out of the hospital that day. Draco went with her—they walked to a muggle neighborhood and took a muggle taxi to the house where Hermione had grown up.

Draco left her with the promise of packing up the things in her flat and bringing them to her once his magic had returned. That had been two weeks ago and in the intervening time she'd heard nothing from him. While she wasn't surprised, she was hurt. She'd thought he would at least have sent word that he'd decided to stay.

But instead of focusing on that, she put her energy into sprucing up the house. It hadn't been lived in in a few years. Her parents—memories restored—had moved to Australia. They'd kept the house for her, though she'd never imagined she would live there. While she waited without hope for Draco to return to send her a missive letting her know that he'd made up his mind, she cleaned and decorated and made the house into her own.

In the third week after Draco had dropped her off, she'd given up all hope of him returning, so when—as she wiped her hands on an old pair of overalls to get rid of some droplets of lavender paint—she opened the door and saw him there, she wasn't sure what to do. Behind him was a moving van—an honest to goodness, muggle moving van—being driven by Harry, who looked very sheepish.

"You have a lot of junk, Granger," he said, hands in his pockets.

"What are you—" she looked up at him, her heart ricocheting off her ribs. "You're here?"

"I told you I would be, didn't I?" he asked, looking confused. "What, did you think I would just leave you here alone?" He smirked. "Ye of little faith."

"I thought," she said, mouth going dry. "It's been weeks. I didn't know if—"

Draco rolled his eyes almost playfully. "As I said, you have a lot of junk. It took a while to pack it all up."

It was at that moment that Hermione realized Harry wasn't alone in the van. Beside him, half hidden in shadow, was Ron.

Suddenly, all her "junk" took on a new meaning.

"You brought Harry and Ron?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

Draco shrugged. "I thought they should see where we'll be living." For the first time, he looked nervous. "Took me a while to convince them both of my intentions. If they'd listened to me sooner, I would have been here in after that first week."

Hermione tried to process what he was telling her. He'd taken so long, because he'd been winning over her friends. He'd done that—something she knew he would have hated—for her.

She forgot about her paint covered clothes and threw herself at him. He caught her as if he'd been expecting it and spun her around, cover her mouth with his hungrily. As soon as they touched, she could feel his magic leaking away, but if he felt it, he didn't seem bothered in the least.

"Oy!" Ron called from the cracked window of the moving van. "Get a room! We haven't got all day!"

Draco released Hermione enough to let her stand, but kept his hands on her.

"Why aren't they getting out of the van?" she asked as she looked up at him, still not sure he was actually here.

"I'm to take you for a walk, away from the house, so they can use magic to unpack." He tightened his grip on her.

"Oh," she said, starting to pull away, but he only tightened his grip on her waist as if he'd expected it. "Your magic," she said, looking up at him almost mournfully. "I can feel it leaving."

"Me too," he said with a smirk.

She tried to pull away again, but he held on tight.

"Granger," he loosened his grip, but kept his arms securely around her. "I waited nearly three full weeks to have you in my arms again. Don't try and keep me away another moment."

At this, she softened.

"I'm here because I would rather have you in my arms that magic at my fingertips," he said, leaning forward and capturing her lips in the way that made her knees go wobbly.

When he released her, her eyes drifted open and she smiled. "Alright," she said, and his smile matched hers.

With a quick wave at Harry and Ron, Hermione and Draco walked hand-in-hand away from the house.

As they walked, Hermione pointed out the spaces from her childhood—the park where she played when she was small, the curb where she'd wrecked her bike for the first time, the neighbors who'd gifted her books as soon as she'd learned to read. It was a few hours later that they made it back to her house. Lights were on in the windows and the moving van was still outside, which meant her friends were still there.

Inside, Harry and Ron were in the kitchen, eating. Hermione rolled her eyes as a smile stretched across her face. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed them.

"Took you long enough," Ron said as he rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"We were going to finish the painting, but we weren't sure what colors you wanted the other rooms," Harry said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Oh, that's alright. I sort of like doing it by hand." She said, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling broadly.

"Care if we stay for dinner?" Ron asked as he shoved a biscuit from the tin on her counter into his mouth. "I'm starving."

"Your magic—" she started.

"We're driving back," Harry said, adjusting his seat on the bar stool. "We won't need magic for a bit." He smiled at her and Ron nodded as he shoved another biscuit into his already half-full mouth and it was almost more than she could take.

She opened her mouth to tell them that she'd made some food, but instead burst into tears.

Used to her emotional outbursts, both boys moved in close. Draco took a step back as her arms went around the necks and she pulled them close, crying into the shoulders.

Once she'd calmed down, she made dinner—turkey sandwiches and crisps—and they ate together with calm conversation. When it was time for Harry and Ron to leave, Hermione felt content.

"Mione," Ron said, putting his hands in his pockets, "could we talk for a moment?" He looked sheepish and Hermione's stomach flipped as she nodded.

"Come on, Potter," Draco said, slapping the brunette on the shoulder. "I'll walk you out."

Once they were outside, Ron turned to Hermione. The tips of his ears were red and he looked at her with a wince.

"I just wanted to apologize," he said, wrinkling his nose. "For how I acted when all this happened. With the curse and Malfoy and everything." He shrugged.

"It's alright," Hermione said, smiling softly.

"Malfoy told us everything, you know," he said, shrugging again. "How you went to that party to try and get my attention." He cleared his throat and turned even redder. "You did, by the way. Get my attention." His cornflower-blue eyes were big and round.

"Well, it wasn't my proudest moment," she said, self consciously.

"He didn't give us all the details, thankfully," Ron said as he rolled his eyes. "But he told us about how you were together. But not." Ron awkwardly looked away. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "I just wanted you to know that, well, he's not so bad. Malfoy." He met her eyes and looked away again. "Not that you needed my permission, or—or anything."

Hermione's heart welled as she threw her arms around his waist and squeezed. After a moment, he returned the hug.

"Thanks, Ron," she said, and he hugged her a little tighter.