Wow, its been a really long time. It's the penultimate chapter, though, so enjoy it people. Istalindar

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Stealing the Melpomene file was easy. Just a quick trip to his office at lunchtime while he was out to pick it up and it was hers. It was extrememly easy to steal from people who trusted you.

For the rest of the afternoon, the thought of the file in her bag burned in her mind while she worked. What had Harry said about him? How much did Harry know about her and him? Hermione clenched her teeth together. She wanted to talk to Harry, badly. But knew she couldn't and that was possibly the most annoying thing about it. Finally she gave in and packed up her stuff, pausing on the way out to claim migraine and nausea to her boss before she went home.

But the moment she was home, she found it all the harder to open the file. She cooked dinner, fed the cats, showered, ate, made at least three cups of tea without drinking them before finally taking herself in hand and forcing herself to sit and open the damned file.

And then spent the next five ours poring over it.

It had everything. From Harry's assignment on the arrival of the Deatheater Files, his tracking of Draco's movements, to his sudden realisation of the connection between his best friend and his enemy, the search of her bedroom and subsequent discovery of the sketch…Hermione's only annoyance was that the file did not explain Harry's thoughts on the subject; it was all very clinical and detached. She didn't know how he felt when he searched her room, or when he found the sketch that proved his worst nightmare. She didn't know how he felt afterward, if he ever came to terms with it or whether he did his utmost to not think about it.

Hermione badly wanted to know what he thought.

The file ended with the official death certificate of Draco Malfoy, showing that Harry had officially declared Draco dead, as Draco had said.

Then that was it.

Hermione sat on the couch, staring into space and trying to process what she had just read. It was a lot to take in, especially as one discrepancy as large as Malfoy's forged death certificate lent suspicion to the entire file. She wanted to talk to Harry, to demand the truth, but knew the moment she did Draco would be dead, for real this time. She knew from Ginny that he kept journals, they'd help. The only problem would be getting to them. Stealing from his office was one thing, stealing from the box under his bed was something slightly more duplicious and Hermione wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do that to her friend.

A lie. She knew she didn't want to do that to Harry, no matter how much he lied to her. And anyway. He saved Draco's life when he should have let him die.

Harry's conscience would get him in trouble some day.

The teeth-rattling burr of her phone vibrating on the coffee table broke into her thoughts, and Hermione picked it up, checking the called ID before flicking it open.

"Were your ears burning?" She asked with a wry smile.

"You were thinking of me?" Harry replied, grin evident in his voice. "Should I be flattered?"

"Depends." Hermione sighed. "What's up?"

"Ginny's doing a dinner shindig tomorrow night, and wondered if you wanted to come with. You know what she's like about cooking non-magically."

"Terrible?" Hermione asked with a laugh. Harry laughed as well.

"Yeah, but I didn't say that." Hermione smiled, leaning back into the couch. It was so easy to slip back into normalcy, as though there wasn't an inch-thick file on a man she might love sitting in front of her, written by the man on the other end of the phone line. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione focused again on Harry's voice, though her eyes still rested on the file.

"Are you alright?" He sounded concerned. "You're quiet."

"Don't you think we're lucky?" Hermione asked softly. "That everyone we loved came out of the war alive?"

"Yeah, I'd say we are." Harry agreed. Hermione sighed. "What is it, Hermione?"

"It's nothing. Just a moment of wishing I was born in a different era."

"It's not really something we get over, I get it." Harry said gently. "But we can forget."

"Do we deserve to forget, though?" Hermione asked. "All those people we ruined…do we deserve to forget, to act as though it never happened?" She was beginning to rant.

"Hermione-"

"No, I'm sorry." Hermione shook her head, biting down on the usual overflow of her thoughts. "Look, tell Ginny I'll be there tomorrow. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, 'Mione. You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?" Harry asked. Hermione smiled faintly.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks Harry."

"No problem. Seven tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you. Bye."

"Take care, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I will." Hermione slid her phone shut, cutting off the call. She sighed, eyes still on the file. She needed to talk to Harry. She knew she could make him swear not to tell the aurors…the Harry of the War, hard, stone-hearted Harry, had disappeared with Voldemort's death. The Harry she knew now…

God, she didn't know. What if the Harry she saw was only one facet? After all, during the war he had never said a bad word to her, but she knew what he was capable of. What if that was still the truth? What if the moment she raised the subject of Malfoy Harry turned cold again, and called the aurors in? She couldn't risk it. Not again.

Which left Ginny. And while the latest Mrs Potter was loyal to a fault to her husband, Hermione was hoping that she'd be just as loyal to one of her best friends. Maybe Harry had said something to her, given some indication that he was glad he had spared Draco's life. Either that or she thought Draco was dead too.

"Dammit." Hermione jumped off the couch and paced restlessly across the room. She had no idea what to do. Yes, she could do the whole secret relationship thing with Draco, but she had a sneaky feeling that the first thing Harry would do when he found out, and he would find out she knew from past experience, would be to call the aurors. So somehow she needed to get it straight with Harry that this was what she wanted, no matter how weird and backwards it seemed to him.

Yeah, whatever.

The phone rang, interrupting her pacing and she snatched it up. The number was withheld.

"What?"

"Granger, are you alright?" The familiar voice stopped her cold. "Hermione?"

"I'm fine, why do you ask?" Hermione asked, her tone more clipped than she had intended.

"You just snapped at me. It's usually a good indication. What's up?" Hermione sighed.

"Nothing really. Just…"

"You wish you could talk to Potter."

"You know I won't." Hermione said defensively.

"Yeah, I do." Nevertheless, Hermione could hear the guarded casualness of his voice. "Doesn't mean you don't wish you could."

"I mean, even if I did and he threatened to tell the aurors…I'd go right back and tell them that he saved you then."

"You could." Draco agreed. Hermione sighed again. "Hermione, talk to him if it'll make it easier."

"But you-"

"I know. But think of it this way, Granger. As it stands, you can pretend you still think I'm dead, and forget about me. You can keep seeing me and keep it a secret from Potter. Or you can talk to Potter and blackmail him into keeping his mouth shut so that you, his long-suffering best friend, can finally have something for yourself. And let's face it, I'm hardly nurturing an underground resurgence for Voldemort."

"You'd have leadership problems." Hermione agreed softly. She heard Draco laugh softly.

"Yeah, we would." There was a pause. "Talk to him, Hermione. You won't be happy otherwise."

"And if he tells the aurors?"

"You can visit me in prison." Draco replied easily. "But Krysta will have to live with you." Hermione smiled at that.

"Thank you." She whispered, curling up in the corner of her couch. "You make this so easy."

"Anything." He replied softly.

They talked for the rest of the night.

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