Author's Note: This chapter was lots of fun to write and it came easily, and I'm happy with it. Admittedly, there may be a few more typos than normal due to breakneck writing speed; I'm going to read it again and repost it if there are, but I'm so excited about it I want to post it now. Anyway, I hope everyone's new year is off to a great start. I'm anticipating a long day tomorrow, so please brighten it with a review.

Chapter 34: Souls

Draco and Hermione fell into a pattern. They took turns fixing breakfast at one another's flats before heading to their respective employments. They came together again for dinner—at her place, or his, or going out. Hermione did still have reading and some brew work to do often in the evenings, and if she was occupied with that, Draco had taken to writing in the book she'd given him. Previously he'd been reading during that time, but most often now, he found himself writing.

It was one day late in March when Hermione looked up from her cauldron and asked what had his attention so avidly. "It's good to see you writing. It seemed like you stopped for a while after I gave you the book. I was starting to think maybe you preferred writing on scraps of paper."

Draco shift on the couch, closing the book with his pen in it. "This is far better than scraps of paper. And I did stop writing, but I've started again."

"Are you going to tell me what you're writing?" she asked, casually stirring her potion as if she wasn't intensely curious.

"It's not ready yet."

She sighed, a little exasperated. "Does it have to be ready before you'll even tell me what it is?"

Draco glanced at the book and moved it out of sight protectively. "It's something I never thought I'd write. If I decide I'm ready for you to see it…I'll show it to you."

Hermione was disappointed, but something about the guarded look on Draco's face told her to leave it alone. For now. The expression on his face while he was writing had been so vulnerable. Words seemed to just be coming out of him and onto the paper.

The blonde tucked the book underneath his leg for safekeeping. Out of sight, out of mind, right? "You're going to Hogwarts on Saturday, right?"

"Yes." Weak transition, she thought. I hope you write better than that. Aloud she said, "Harry wanted to wait until June when all the students were out for the year, but there's only so long a person can put up with mounted elf-heads on the wall." She shuddered.

"It'll be the first time he's gone back?"

"As far as I know. He wrote to McGonagall to set it all up, but I don't think he's set foot there since it all ended. The last time he was over here, I got the impression that McGonagall wants him to turn up at the leaving ceremony at the end of term, but I don't think he's committed to that."

"Are you going?"

"I haven't been invited."

"Yet. You will be. McGonagall is devious enough to be a Slytherin sometimes. She'll put you on the spot and ask you in person where you can't say no." The expression on his face radiated smugness.

"I won't go." Hermione attempted to return her attention to her cauldron—she needed half a dozen phials of Draught of Peace to bring in with her in the morning. However, Draco wasn't having it. Now that she'd turned the attention away from the respective activities and into conversation, he found he wasn't quite in the mood to keep writing anymore.

"Why not? What would be so terrible?" His innocence was only partly feigned. Going back to Hogwarts again would be hard for her, but she was a hero. It wouldn't be as hard as, for example, him turning up there. He was grateful to have a good excuse for missing the elf burial.

Her eyes flashed. "You know why. There's too much there. Too many memories. Too much I've lost. Too much that won't ever be. Too many cracks we can't mend and holes we can't fill." And damn it. She had thought she could do it. She'd thought she could get out the words without crying. She'd gone weeks without crying but now, the names and faces of the lost flashed before her eyes. All the things that would never be. They didn't deserve it. Colin would never finish Hogwarts—nor would she, or Harry, or Ron. Tonks and Remus would never see Teddy grow up. Didn't Teddy deserve to know his parents? It wasn't fair. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve in what she hoped was a discreet way.

Draco wasn't fooled for a minute, and in the space of a few breaths, he'd crossed from the couch to the table and put his arms around her. His voice was warm and quiet in her ear, "I'm sorry." His cheek pressed against hers, and his arms held her securely. The forgotten potion began to solidify in the bottom of the cauldron. "You don't have to go. But you might feel better for it. I'm sorry I can't make it easier."

"I could bother the Minister again. Get you another Knight Bus exemption," she sniffed.

His back stiffened. "Everyone hates me there. I can't…you're a hero. They'd welcome you. It would help."

She rested her head against him. "Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be," she muttered.

"Beats the alternative. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be the villain."

There was no response to that, so they held each other in silence.

Saturday afternoon, Hermione Flooed to McGonagall's office. As much as part of her wished Draco was here, she hadn't wanted to force him to come. Plus, she rather expected that the wizard she'd gotten the travel exemption from for Draco last time would not be in a hurry to let her into his office again.

She smoothed over her robes and brushed a little ash from them. Her hair was nearly back to it's it's former state of comfortable frizziness.

"Well, Miss Gra—Hermione, it's good to have you here. Mr. Potter should be along shortly. He and Rubeus have made all of the arrangements for today. All of the Hogwarts elves will be attending." She paused a moment. "How are your studies going?"

All of the House-elves would be attending? Hermione was astounded. It took her a moment to recover. "They're going well. Damocles Belby can be difficult, but I'm learning a lot. Thank you for the books you sent for my birthday. I've been reading them when I can."

"If you decide you'd like to take the Transfiguration and Charms NEWTs this year, you'd be more than welcome. And my offer for any way we can assist you still stands."

"Thank you. How have you been, Pr—Minerva?"

"Quite well. We're looking for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again. The Ministry loaned us an Auror this year, but with their numbers rather down, they'd like him back in the fall."

They continued to make smalltalk for a few more minutes. McGonagall never quite suggested outright that Hermione ought to take the position and Hermione was saved the necessary evil of refusing it. She had other plans. She just had to figure out what they were, and how to implement them. To change the subject, she asked McGonagall for any information she had pertaining to starting a non-profit organization in the wizarding world and they discussed some of the hurdles faced by people with lycanthropy. Anything she wanted to do would be slow going, and she would need somewhere to do it.

To their mutual surprise, Harry arrived from the stairs rather than the fireplace. He was rather rumpled looking, and there were grass stains on robes that had probably been clean and tidy that morning. Hermione could see a piece of invisibility cloak sticking out of the pocket of his cloak. "Good afternoon, Hermione, Headmistress."

The look on McGonagall's face clearly indicated that she wanted to know how he'd arrived at Hogwarts if not by their pre-arranged Floo, but she simply pursed her lips and said. "Mr. Potter, always good to see you."

"Everything's ready. I've been down at Hagrid's." He looked almost apologetic. "I realized that I wouldn't be able to bring the…bodies through the fireplace easily, so the house-elves assisted me in bringing them in. Everything is ready," he said, pushing his hand through his hair a little self-consciously.

"Let us go then." McGonagall made an "after you" sort of gesture, so there was no help for it but to have Harry lead the way as the young and older witch both followed him down the stairs and through the corridors. There were a few students milling about, but the timing had been set between meals so that most students would be occupied elsewhere.

Hermione pulled her cloak around herself. She hadn't seen Hagrid in…a long time. The three of them crossed the grounds and came to Hagrid's hut. Not far from the hut or the Forest, there was a veritable army of house-elves, all in freshly pressed Hogwarts tea towels. A number of them stood together, cradling something in their arms, wrapped in fresh linen.

Little holes had been dug in the ground in rows. Hagrid stood nearby, larger than life, as ever. Neville and Ginny were beside them.

"Many others would have come if they'd been allowed," Minerva said softly.

"I'm not ready to face a crowd yet," Harry said, not looking at her. "But thank you for letting me do this here."

"It's the least we can do, Mr. Potter. Have you given any further thought to my earlier inquiry?"

Harry took a steadying breath. "I've promised to think about it. And I will. Excuse me." He left the women and went up to Hagrid, who clapped him on the back so hard, his knees nearly buckled. Neville and Ginny both looked pleased to see him. Harry looked out at the army of elves, and especially at the ones carrying burdens. They held their heads high. Kreacher was standing at the head of the line, clutching a scroll.

Harry spoke. "Thank you, everyone, for being here. My godfather, Sirius Black, passed on a few years ago and left the house to me. I couldn't ask for a better elf to help me along than Kreacher. Many elves have served the Black family over the generations. Some of whom were made a permanent part of the home. I feel that these elves deserve more than that. They deserve a place to be remembered. Kreacher?"

Kreacher opened the roll of parchment he was holding and began to read out the list of the names of the elves that would be buried. As he called out a name, one of the elves came forward with a bundle in their arms and laid it in the ground, and stood behind the grave.

Slowly, each hole was filled with a shrouded elf head.

As one, the elves levitated the piles of soil beside the graves and filled them in.

Solemnly, the parchment was given to Harry. "I'd like to thank Headmistress McGonagall, and the Hogwarts elves for allowing us to do this, and for all of your help. This is also where the elves who lost their lives in the Battle for Hogwarts are buried, just a little further that way. Thank you, everyone, for coming. Now, they can finally rest."

There was a cheer from the Hogwarts elves. They knew the sort of abuses that these elves had gone through in their life that they would never have been subjected to at Hogwarts. At last now they could rest.

The crowd of elves bowed to Harry as one and disappeared with a crack, back to their duties. They had hundreds of children to care for, who needed them, even if they didn't know they were there.

The handful of humans and Kreacher remained behind.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. Quite inspired."

"Thank you. I just thought they deserved…something."

Hagrid was crying. He gave a great sniff. "All those poor elves, beheaded, mounted ter the wall an' everthin'. Sad excuse for wizards in that house, 'cept Sirius of course."

Hermione had gone to stand by Neville and give him a friendly hug and she looked at Ginny. In the distance, she could see that there were onlookers wondering what the gathering crowd had been, but as the show seemed to be over, they started to wander off.

"Kreacher, you can go home, or go back to see the other elves. Ginny, the three of us were going to get a Butterbeer in Hogsmeade. Do you want to come?" Harry asked.

"I'd like that."

McGonagall snorted lightly. "I suppose, given the circumstances, I could grant permission for you to go off the grounds. But, Mr. Potter, you're responsible for seeing that she returns safely." McGonagall patted Hagrid on the shoulder (or as close to it as she could reach), and Neville, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry wandered off in the direction of the gate and Hogsmeade. "And Hermione, I do hope we'll be seeing you at Miss Weasley's leaving ceremony this spring?"

As an almost automatic response to her old professor, Hermione said, "Of course." She then swore under her breath. "Damn that woman."

"I look forward to seeing you this evening.

Neville chuckled. "Does she not think I could have walked Ginny back?"

"I'm more than capable of walking back to Hogwarts by myself," Ginny retorted.

Harry shook his head. "McGonagall just wants another shot at getting me to agree to come to the leaving ceremony and saying something. Looks, like you've helped me dodge that bullet." He gave a cheeky grin to Hermione.

Hermione groaned. "Seven years as my professor. It's an automatic response to say yes if she asks me to do something. I'll just have to see her again and tell her I won't do it."

The four of them walked to Hogsmeade together.

Hermione made it home at last, having said goodbye to Ginny, Neville and Harry before they walked back to Hogwarts. Hermione was just going to have to write back to McGonagall and tell her she wasn't going to be able to go to the leaving ceremony.

Still in her robes, she crossed the hallway and knocked on Draco's door. It opened almost immediately.

"Long day?" Draco asked.

"Extremely. But not bad." She undid the clasp on her cloak and hung it on the back of the chair as he slipped an arm around her waist.

"Tell me all about it."

They settled together on Draco's couch and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Well, it was very nice. All of the mounted elf heads from Grimmauld Place are now buried at Hogwarts, and all the Hogwarts elves came to the ceremony. Neville and Ginny know about us now. And McGonagall may have gotten me to promise to go to the leaving ceremony at the end of term."

"Have fun."

Hermione let out an exasperated breath. "I'm not going."

Draco didn't respond; he imagined one way or another she'd be there. "And how did Ginny and Neville take the news?"

The brunette chuckled, her nose bumping against his neck. "Ginny said it was about time, and that if we hadn't managed to sort ourselves out, she was going to come do it for us. She also demanded to know why I didn't write to her about it. Neville seemed a little surprised, but he didn't go off on me over it. Tell me about your day." She noticed his writing book out on the coffee table.

"Not much to tell. Went for a run in the park and came back here. I wasn't sure what time you'd be back, but I can make something for dinner."

"Let's order a pizza."

The pair of them had a nice evening together, and when the pizza was gone and they were sipping wine again, Draco noticed Hermione's eyes strayed to his writing book a couple of times. "You really want to know what's in there?" he asked.

"I do, but not if you don't want to—"

"It's okay." Draco extricated his arm from where it had been pinned between Hermione and the couch and he leaned forward to pull the book out and hand it to her, still shut. "I'm writing about myself. Life without magic. I don't know why. I was going to try and write some fiction, something I could sell to Muggles but I was absolute rubbish at that. One day I started writing this and I just keep writing it. I don't ever expect anyone to read it. I don't want them to. But it helps."

"Can I read it?"

Draco hesitated.

"If you don't want me to that's fine," Hermione said quickly.

"You can read it, just…not in front of me. I don't think I could handle it if you were reading it and you didn't like it and I could see it on your face. Just don't read it in front of me."

Hermione's fingers closed around the book. "I'm sure it'll be great."

"It's not supposed to be great. I mean, it doesn't have to be. It's just…me. What I'm learning."

Hermione kissed him soundly. She'd rarely seen him so self-conscious. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Four more months," she said softly.

"Four more months," he echoed.

"What are you going to do in August?"

"Take out a pile of gold from Gringotts and Apparate us somewhere romantic for a candlelight dinner."

Hermione chuckled.

He looked affronted. "I have to get my dignity back after that whole iceskating fiasco."

"You act as if I care how much gold is in your vault or where we're eating."

"I know you don't…but you deserve the best. I intend to give it to you." He laced his fingers through hers. He didn't know what his future was going to hold or where he'd be, but he rather imagined that as long as Hermione was still by his side—whatever it was she saw in him—he'd manage.

It was a few days before Hermione found the time to start reading Draco's writing book on her own. She wanted to respect his wishes to read it when they weren't together, but they spent so much time together that was easier said than done.

I never really knew what an adjustment Muggle-borns made to come to the wizarding world. Everything is different. It's harder. Why haven't Muggles come up with a better way to do things? I cut my face the first time I tried to shave without a barbius charm. Scraping metal and bubbles over your face—completely barbaric. But it's the only choice without magic.

She kept reading, enthralled, turning page after page. Some of it seemed to go together in sections, other times a completely new thread opened up.

Why would witches have green faces? How are you supposed to know where to find clothes? And they expect whatever is in the shop to fit you. Haven't they heard of tailors? Hermione says tailored clothing exists, but is out of my budget. Budget. I've never had to worry about money before. Now I live in a world where I had the choice between buying wine that I could drink, or buying the right sort of glass for wine, and not having any money left over to buy something to drink.

In the hour that she spent reading, she found Draco had covered everything from his fears during job interviews, to his horror at subways, and longing for a broom. His adjustment not just to life without magic, but also, life without privilege. Life without parents to spoil him. Life without being able to purchase solutions to his problems. Every so often she made an appearance in the book, but for the most part, it was all about Draco and his adaptation this year. One of her favorite sections was about the Weasleys.

I'm starting to wonder if I was wrong, about everything. Or wonder what I could have possibly been right about. People I ridiculed for years for not having all the things I did took me in and treated me like family. I wouldn't have done the same for them a year ago. What would it have been like to grow up in that cramped house, filled with siblings, and just getting by? Instead of having everything handed to me so I never knew how to get what I needed myself.

Hermione set the book down. She'd read her way through most of what he'd written. This was Draco's soul, totally bare. No wonder he'd been nervous at her reading it. She hurried across the hallway and knocked on Draco's door. When he opened it, she threw her arms around him.

"What's the matter?" he asked, wondering if he was going to have to hunt someone down.

"I've been reading your notebook."

Draco winced. "This is a goodbye hug, isn't it?"

She laughed, and squeezed him again, shaking her head. "No. I love you now more than ever."

He stared at her, pulling back a little from her arms. "You've never said that to me before. I thought I was supposed to say it first, and there was supposed to be candlelight."

It was Hermione's turn to stammer.

He stopped her babbling with a kiss and whispered in her ear. "I love you too." He pulled her inside and shut the door.

Author's Note (additional): And now after having read it again 2 minutes after posting, I realize part of the reason it was easy to write was because I switched back to Hermione's POV without realizing it. She's so much easier to write than Draco.