Author's Note: A bit of filler here. Hopefully I get the next chapter up before the end of the weekend! Enjoy!

Chapter 13

February 2000

Hermione had been working late since her meeting with the Minister of Magic. It started out as once a week but as February approached, she was staying late more frequently. Her excuse to her friends and especially Ron was that she was getting the ball rolling on a request to investigate the wellbeing of some house elves. All she had to do was say house elf and that was enough for anyone to change the subject. What she was actually doing was quite different, however. She was meeting with Kingsley himself to go over the finer aspects of Azkaban, reviewing and practicing several safety tips, and discussing exactly what she'd be speaking to Draco about.

This night, however, Hermione had set aside to simply spend with her friends. Having not believed for a single moment that her brother could cook, Ginny insisted that he make dinner not just for her, but for all of them. Since Ginny had been spending so much time away training with the Holyhead Harpies, Ron did not object to the demand.

He arrived early at Hermione's flat with his arms full of groceries and went right to work on preparing the meal. Harry and Ginny arrived later and Ginny immediately started teasing and taunting her older brother about being the chef of the night. Several promises of hexes later, dinner was ready and they all settled in the dining room for the meal. Ginny was pleasantly silenced once she tasted what her brother had created, even going as far as apologizing for not believing he'd be able to boil water, let alone cook an entire dinner. A smug smile filled Ron's features for the rest of the meal as he felt very accomplished and pleased with himself.

The group settled into comfortable conversation as the meal was finished. Ginny started telling stories about her training, which drew both Harry and Ron in as if she were hypnotizing them. Hermione sat back in her seat, looking around at the table full of her friends, people she loved and would give her life for. People she almost had given her life for.

A wave of dizziness overcame her and she closed her eyes as every sound in the room suddenly stopped. She felt an ice cold chill creep up her spine and her ears began to ring. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't sitting in her flat in London anymore, she was in a cold dark prison cell. She could feel the dementors approaching and suddenly her vision blurred. She was suddenly back in the Malfoy's dungeon basement. She felt an arm around her neck, saw a brilliant flash of light, and then she screamed.

With a sudden rush, a her screaming turned into a male scream and her brain became fuzzy. Then everything came rushing back and clarity filled her as the smell of spearmint toothpaste and a distinct shampoo filled her senses. She was back in her flat now, Ron at her side filled with worry and Harry and Ginny looking on with concern.

"It happened again," she murmured, bringing a hand up to rub her temple as Ron pulled her closer into his arms.

"Do you remember anything this time?" Harry asked, his voice coming out as smooth as he could make it.

Hermione gave the slightest of nods and pulled back from Ron just enough to look up at his face. "I remember… bits and pieces… about summers at the burrow," she spoke in pauses. "Pieces that were just empty before because they are memories of just the two of us. How I always got there before Harry and we'd ditch Ginny to just sit and talk." She glanced at Ginny who sat across the table at her with an eyebrow raised. "Sorry, Ginny." She focused her attention back on Ron. "You'd go on and on about Quidditch. You even snatched a book or two from my hands when I tried to ignore your blabbering," she laughed, remembering it all so clearly now. Ron cracked a smile listening to her. "The many times I caught you staring at me. You'd blush and quickly look away when I'd catch you…" She looked over at Harry and Ginny again who were both smiling as well. "But still not much about school. I mean my brain is telling me you were there but I just can't remember any specific moments."

"What about the time Ron tried to get you to actually play quidditch with us?" Ginny asked, recalling the humorous event. Hermione shook her head gently, signaling she didn't. "Oh. Well… he convinced you to get on a broom and you ended up falling off. Fred and George had a good laugh about it. You were fine, of course, just vowed never to touch a broom again. And Ron wouldn't leave your side the rest of the weekend. He was convinced he broke you or something."

"That one can stay forgotten," Ron piped in. "It wasn't one of my finer moments."

They all began to laugh except for Hermione, who was now upset that she couldn't remember that specific moment. Just hearing about it really showed what kind of person Ron was and that he always secretly cared for her.

"Well this obviously means something," Harry interrupted the laughter when he saw the look on Hermione's face. "I've got to agree with you this time, Hermione, we can't just blame it on magic with no explanation."

"Maybe the dementors are finally laying in on Draco," Ginny suggested and all eyes turned to her. "What?" she asked, not finding her comment anything extraordinary as the others so obviously did. "I think I read that when a witch or wizard dies, their magic goes with them."

"It does," Hermione confirmed. She had figured that out weeks ago. "For the most part."

"Well, when their health starts to deteriorate wouldn't their magic sort of go on the blitz? If Draco was having to bear dementor attacks, he can't be in too healthy a state, right? Ron, remember great Aunt Maribel? She had that poodle that she put a spell on to change the color of its fur whenever she wanted. But when she got old and sick, every time she sneezed the dog would turn neon pink. She was old and her magic was old and when she died, the dog turned white again and stayed that way."

"Exactly," Hermione said as if Ginny had just recited a speech she had written for her. "I've been thinking the same thing for months now," Hermione confessed. "As the dementors attack Draco more, the more he gets closer to death and the closer he gets, the more I remember. So basically, the only way for me to remember everything would be…"

Ron cut her off, finishing her sentence for her, "… for Draco to die."