Hermione knew her Slytherins were trying to figure some way to wiggle around their promises to her. She wasn't fool enough to think they would let the incident pass. She rolled her eyes at the familiar knock at the door. The elf Narcissa had insisted on sending home with her answered the door for her young master and led him into the sitting room.

"The Prophet has you pregnant with my love child." Draco smirked and held up the paper. "Astoria clipped it for album."

"So, not a secret triad then?" Hermione giggled. "Perhaps I should kiss Astoria on the lips when we go for ice cream later."

"Only if you're sure there's a reporter taking lots of pictures." Draco nodded his head and smiled that silly, mischievous smile that always meant trouble. "Lots and lots of pictures."

"Pervert." Hermione tossed a throw pillow at him as he settled into a club chair.

"I thought you'd be proud of me." Draco hugged the pillow to his chest. "I'm willing to share. That's real progress, that is."

"I'll let Astoria know." Hermione smirked and settled back onto the couch.

"Just so you know, Mum has ordered my father to fix it." Draco took a deep breath. "I think she spent the better part of the morning looking for ways to punish Severus."

"It's not his fault." Hermione growled. "He doesn't know. He shouldn't be punished. I wanted him to be free."

"Did you know?" Draco leaned forward. "Did you know it would hurt like that?"

"I don't care about the pain." Hermione stood up and stalked across the room. "That man spent twenty years trapped between Dumbledore and Voldemort. He put himself between danger and our asinine selves so often with out a word of thanks."

"I'm not going to ague that, but do you deserve to hurt?" Draco shook his head. "I know you Gryffs enjoy the martyrdom, but, Salazar, that was too much."

"I'm not some muggle saint, Draco." Hermione traced her finger along the frame of one of her pictures. "My mistakes cost lives. Good people are gone because I wasn't smart enough, strong enough, or fast enough. I was so centered on Harry."

"It's a good thing you were." Draco came up behind her. "Without your care, he would have failed and we would all be slaves to Voldemort's whims."

"I killed people. I destroyed their lives." Hermione shook her head. "I'm no martyr."

"It was war." Draco pulled her into his arms and hugged her. She nodded her head. It was the expected response. She bit her lip. Draco had been forced into a bad situation. He didn't have a real choice. She had chosen to take her parents memory. She had chosen the greater good. The only problem with the greater bloody good was that she was one person and all the greater good couldn't return her parents or her lost friends.

She'd been able to return one person, but what price could she ask him to pay? She couldn't force him to be hers. Severus Snape had spent enough time in forced servitude.

The greater good might have saved their world, but the price was so dear. This time she acted with the smaller good in mind. Her parents were gone, lost in their own minds. Too many friends had passed. She could only save one, and any price was acceptable.

Severus took a generous sip of the Italian wine Pippy had selected. It was the perfect compliment to the prosciutto wrapped fruit she'd prepared. The elf was a culinary wonder.

The garden around him was tamed and lush once more. Potions ingredients grew next to decretive plants and bougainvillea trailed down creating shade and riots of color. He'd considered making his stop here a short one when he'd first seen the place, but Poppy had taken over the terraced gardens with zeal. The view was breathtaking with every garden terrace and room looking out toward the water.

His relatives had a flare for the dramatic. The house was carved into the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. The furniture was rustic in some areas and lavish in others. There was no unifying nature to it, but it worked. The place was an ideal place to let his mind wander, and his mind had one destination.

Hermione Granger.

The Prophet was up to its usual tricks. She was supposedly carrying Draco's love child, but he knew that was bollocks. They were friends, and that was strange enough. That Hermione, Draco, and Astoria were the focus of rumor mongering was hardly a surprise.

The absence of Harry Potter and the youngest Weasley boy was odd. Potter articles were sprinkled through the paper. Why anyone needed to know what brand of socks the man wore when playing recreational quidditch was beyond him. It was also something he would have to eradicate from his mind at a later date. He frowned. There was something damning in the way that there was no story about the golden trio.

Had the architect of his second chance suffered the loss of her friends for her actions?

He considered writing to Lucius, but giving that man a free pass to dig into this situation could go very badly. Hermione was not likely to thank him for it. Perhaps Andromeda would be the better choice.

Harry watched Ron rant and storm about waving The Prophet like a flag. His face was beyond purple at this point, and there was no sign that anything could distract him from this latest rage. He missed the days when Ron's temper could be managed with a quick game of catch the snitch.

He also missed Hermione.

After the fiasco in Peru, he hadn't known what to do. It had been easier to just let things lie. He should have known better. When had easy ever been right?