The journey from the castle to St. Mungo's was incredibly awkward and not only because Charlus and Draco had used Dumbledore's floo to manage it. It was more so because Charlus, despite being the one to invite Draco along, seemed barely able to tolerate his presence. The few words Draco had eked out were met with one-word responses and even those seemed painful for Charlus.

The mood dissipated the moment the two wizards stepped into Dorea's room at St. Mungo's. Instead, it was replaced by Charlus putting on a wide smile and telling Dorea that one of her friends was here to see her. Dorea didn't seem to recognize Draco as himself or his grandfather, but more concerningly, she blinked blankly at Charlus and asked him what his name was. Charlus patiently introduced himself and told some terrible jokes that made her laugh. Draco mostly hung back but interjected and laughed when appropriate. Even though Dorea didn't remember Charlus, their interactions were so seamless that Draco couldn't help but feel he were intruding.

Dorea seemed both better and worse than Draco expected. Her memory was nonexistent, occasionally forgetting things mid-conservation. As for her appearance, she looked almost unrecognizable; her normally perfectly styled blond hair was frizzy and filled with static around her face. Her face was paler than it had been but it was also more open. Dorea's smiles and laughs were unrestrained and her eyes looked nearly twice as large as Draco remembered them because they were no longer permanently narrowed.

"She can't form new memories," Charlus told Draco once they were out in the hallway before Draco could even ask the question.

"I'm so sorry," Draco said in lieu of anything useful to say. "She's lucky to have you."

Charlus nodded and looked Draco in the eye for the first time that day, seemingly satisfied with what he found. "Thank you. I just can't believe someone would do this to her. I know she wasn't the warmest person all the time, but she never would do anything to deserve—" And his voice broke, tears speeding down his face. "I'm sorry," he managed to say, "I just hate crying in front of her and I can't, I can't."

Draco awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder and Charlus reacted by embracing him in a bear hug, his broad frame crushing Draco slightly. They stood like that in the too-bright white hallway for what was only a few minutes but felt like an eternity to Draco. Faced with the fierceness of Charlus's devotion to Dorea was forcing Draco to confront what he had been avoiding. Hermione had been everything to him the last couple years: not only the light in his darkness, but the person who did what he thought was impossible. She protected him and freed him from the binds of the Dark Lord. And in return he thought it was his task to the do the same, to follow her through time and shield her from the man who had tormented him for so many years.

But Draco knew he had been pretending for too long. The moment he had waited for—seeing Hermione again—was shattered by her devotion to the Dark Lord. Still, he hadn't let go and hadn't admitted to himself that what had upset him wasn't just that she was with Riddle. It was that the look in her eyes when she spoke about him was singular. She had never loved Draco that fiercely, and even though she had chosen him now, she still didn't. The tone in her voice when she spoke of Tom in her sleep was filled with more love than he had ever received even in their most intimate moments. Draco wanted that, too, but he had been slowly accepting that he was never going to have that with Hermione.

When Charlus pulled back, looking a bit embarrassed as he quickly wiped his tears away, he didn't miss Draco pushing moisture from his face as well.

"I really appreciate you coming, Abraxas. I know it seems like she didn't recognize you, but she seemed happy to see you. I think part of her still knows the people who were important to her."

Charlus looked so desperate for Draco to agree that Draco couldn't help but nod. "I think you're right, Potter," Draco lied with a small smile.

Draco ran a shaking hand through his hair as he waited in the empty classroom across from Slughorn's, pacing. It was odd that he had chosen this place to meet Hermione, out of all the empty classrooms in the castle. The last time Draco had been in this particular one he had blood drawn out from him repeatedly for what felt like ages. In reality, it hadn't been quite that long but it was certainly long enough.

Hermione came in and gave him a nervous smile, fidgeting slightly with the hem of her uniform skirt through the narrow window between each side of her robes, which hung open.

"I can't take you to Slughorn's tonight," he blurted out in lieu of explaining his feelings.

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction before quickly returning to normal. "Are you… tired?" She ventured, and Draco couldn't help but notice that she looked exhausted.

He had the urge to reach out and kiss the bags under her eyes, and he had to break eye contact in order to keep his distance from her. "I can't take you because I can't do this anymore. I said I just needed time, but…" Draco forced himself to look back at Hermione, hoping that his eyes would finish the thought for him.

"Draco, I love you. I know you love me. We can work this out." Hermione spoke slowly, nodding every couple words, more to herself than to Draco.

"Hermione, I believe you when you say you love me. I feel that from you. And maybe if things were different, it would be enough. But you love Riddle"—he almost said the Dark Lord but caught himself in time—"much more. And now that I've seen that, what we have doesn't feel like enough. And it's not just that," he continued before Hermione could interrupt. Draco stepped forward and took Hermione's hands. "I want you to be happy. You are honestly everything to me, Hermione. I think that's why I've fought so hard for this even when I knew it was over for you a long time ago. You have been my only real friend. That's absolutely pathetic, I know, but it's true. And I don't regret for a moment coming back to you. Just knowing that you're alive and well is worth it." Tears silently spilled down his face and he didn't bother wiping them away, instead crushing Hermione's hands slightly as he tightened his grip on them. "And there was nothing left for me in our time. My mom and I have never been close, and she has Snape now, anyway."

Hermione's eyebrow shot up. "A topic for another time, maybe," Draco added.

"Draco—" Hermione started, and then paused, looking down at the floor as she collected her thoughts. "I don't know how many times I can tell you that I only love you. You're not second choice. There is no other choice. I feel nothing for Tom, other than pity sometimes."

Draco shook his head. "I know you think you're being honest, Hermione, but you're not. If your conflict in your sleep weren't enough, I know you better than that and you don't give up on people that easily. You didn't give up on me, did you? And I was responsible for your best friend's death."

"You weren't responsible in the same way—" Hermione started, but Draco interrupted.

"That's not the point, Hermione. What does Riddle think about all this?"

"Sorry? Did you tell him you were planning to break up with me?" Hermione looked affronted.

"No, no, of course not. I mean about you not feeling anything for him anymore."

"Oh. Well, he sort of—are you sure you want to hear this, Draco? I really am sincere about my feelings. And as for my dreams, memories maybe? I don't know."

"I want to hear it," Draco insisted, too exhausted to argue with her again.

"He had sort of a breakdown last week and insisted I read Dorea's diary and implied that it would explain the disconnect between my dreams and my feelings. It didn't really make any sense. And the diary so far is just about Dorea's romantic drama and to the extent Tom is mentioned at all, it's not flattering."

"But you haven't finished it?"

"Not yet. Tom was so"—she paused, clearly searching for the right words—"out of his mind when he gave it to me that I wonder if there's nothing really there.

"You won't know until you finish it," Draco said, trying to sound hopeful, although he couldn't work out what Dorea's diary would have to do with Hermione's feelings. Somehow Draco doubted that Tom had given it to her in hopes Hermione would have an emotional breakthrough by reading about Dorea's love life.

"The diary doesn't matter, Draco," Hermione said dismissively. "We matter to me, and you're wrong about me."

Draco enveloped Hermione in an embrace, whispering in her ear. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I love you, but I don't want this anymore." Draco didn't know how long he held tight to Hermione while she sobbed. He had to continually resist the urge to take it all back and tell her things would be however she wanted them to be. In those long minutes, Draco fervently hoped the Dark Lord knew something about Dorea's diary that he didn't.

Hermione was covered in tears and mucus as she made her way back to her dorm, trying not to break down again, at least until she was within the safety of her own four walls.

When she walked in, however, she no longer felt the urge to go to her room and continue to cry. Instead, Hermione straightened up and went to Tom's door, knocking repeatedly until he opened it.

"Hermione, are you—"

She cut him off. "Fuck off with your fake concern, Tom. I just wanted to tell you that you have ruined my life."

"Hermione—" Tom tried again, looking shocked.

"No, Tom," she spoke over him. "I'm talking right now. First, you kill my best friend's parents." Tom tried to interrupt again, but she just started screaming her words. "Then, your fucking followers kill him. And now you've broken the love of my life and me up. I hope you're—"

But her screaming abruptly stopped with a wordless swish of Tom's wand. Hermione reached for her wand, but she was quickly disarmed by a livid-looking Tom. His face was white, his lips were pressed tightly together, and his left eye twitched. Hermione lunged at him, but she was thrown back harshly against his bed, chains quickly wrapping tightly enough around her that her breathing became slightly labored.

"If you were going to say you hope that I'm happy, I'll have to disappoint you." His voice was deadly calm as he spoke, kneeling down to reach eye level with Hermione's body slumped against his previously pristine bed.

"You think I ruined your life, Hermione? Because I killed some people at a vague point in the future and broke up your absurd relationship? You are the one who has disturbed my life and tarnished my success. I do not want another word from you until you have finished the fucking book I lent you. This is what is going to happen, Hermione. I am going to let you go and you are going to leave or you will force my hand. Do you understand me, Hermione? JUST GET OUT!" The last three words came out as a shout.

Tom dropped her wand abruptly, letting it hit the floor. When Hermione's chains disappeared and she felt that her voice was back, she debated for only a moment before scrambling to grab her wand and running out of the room.