A/N: Happy holidays to everyone! Thank you to all the reviewers, especially to those Guests and those with disabled messaging who I can't personally thank.

Hermione had never been more scared to open the paper in the days following the pub night with Marcus Flint. It wasn't until Monday that she finally stopped looking for pictures of Draco pushing her up against a wall.

She thought of Lucius Malfoy, and Draco's inheritance, and prayed.

Harry helped her file a report with the D.M.L.E. about the incident. Or, more accurately, Harry forced her to file a report with the D.M.L.E. about the incident. He said if she didn't file the report, he would go after Flint himself.

She filed it anonymously, much to Harry's dismay. Harry told her that anonymous reports were harder to substantiate, and harder to investigate.

"I don't really care one way or the other about Flint, Harry," she said on Monday morning. He'd come to their flat to bring her the paperwork. "I just want this potion brought to the Auror's attention. I don't want this happening to anyone else."

"I care about Flint." He glared at her and she looked away. "I want to be the one to retrieve him and throw him in Azkaban."

"I have no proof that it was him. I have Draco's word. If he is brought into this and we are questioned and if it reaches Skeeter's ears…." She shook her head. "I can't… I can't do this anymore. I can't fear the day Lucius Malfoy hears about this."

"This shouldn't be about Lucius Malfoy! This should be about justice!" Harry threw his arms out to the sides, wide and questioning her.

She turned away from him, frowning out the window. It was raining. "Everything is about Lucius Malfoy, Harry."

By Tuesday she could hardly make out the bruises on Draco's neck and wrist.

By Thursday she'd forgotten the taste of him.

And on the following Monday, the whisper of "Granger" across her ear had finally evaporated into the wind.

On Tuesday evening, she found herself at the Burrow. Bill and Fleur were visiting before they headed out of town for the entire month of December, and Molly was in quite a state, complaining because they had to schedule a weeknight instead of the entire weekend. Hermione was exhausted after work, and wished she could excuse herself from the evening, but Ginny threatened her, practically at wandpoint.

"Oh, no you don't, Granger." She tossed a sweater across her bed, looking for the perfect outfit. "I need you there so my mother will harp on you about Ron. That way she won't harp on me about when Harry and I are getting married."

Ginny abruptly began changing her clothes, and Hermione looked away, twitching at the idea of Ginny and Harry getting married. Weren't they all still thirteen years old, sitting at the Gryffindor table, watching Seamus burn his eyebrows off?

Hermione wasn't inside the Burrow for five minutes before Molly asked her about Ron. Apparently he would be home for Christmas Eve, but they had a game on Christmas Day.

"He's told you this, of course?" Molly said, licking a spoon in the kitchen.

"Er, no. We've both been terribly busy."

"Well, of course, you're invited over that evening. That way you two can see each other!"

Hermione watched as Molly wiped her hands on her dress and used her wand to season the stew. She hadn't heard anything from Ron about the two of them, then.

It was a quiet evening after that. Fleur sat between her and Ginny in the living room, which Ginny found rather irritating. Ginny found an excuse to get up, leaving Hermione alone with Fleur.

They chatted for a quite a while about books and house elves – the only topics anyone could discuss with her, apparently. She watched Fleur as she moved, as she talked, and she wondered if she also possessed skills in dancing, interior design, and balancing the financials.

"Fleur," Hermione asked, after a pause, "do you know of a Madame Michele?"

Fleur's bright face darkened. "Oh, yes." She raised a brow in distaste. "I know 'er quite well."

"Oh, did you… Did you take manners classes from her?" Hermione sipped her cocoa.

"I saw 'er twice a week for ten years," Fleur said. "She iz an abominable woman."

"I hear she is the top manners and charms teacher for pure-bloods."

"Oh, yes!" Fleur turned to her, gracefully. "She is ze best! Zat doesn't mean I 'ave to like 'er!" She laughed. "Why do you ask?"

Thankfully Molly Weasley announced dinner right then. She sat next to Harry and watched Fleur quietly across the table during the meal. She held her spoon just like Narcissa did. She dipped her utensil into the stew, taking small bites, being careful not to spill. Hermione watched, and found herself mimicking the behavior. Every three spoonfuls, Fleur would bring her napkin to her mouth. It was hypnotic. She would have no moisture her lips, but she would still pat them all the same. Whenever Fleur would add to a conversation, she found the exact moment to do so for her voice to be heard. She never had an issue with another person talking over her. Hermione tried to find the trick to that, but it seemed to be an innate trait.

Hermione wondered how much of that was the Veela and how much was the charms mistress.

That Friday was the day Harry had his shift at the Wizengamot Administrative Services office. In forty-eight hours, she would have Draco Malfoy figured out.

Maybe.

She was beginning to doubt herself. Perhaps breaking into Draco's mind wasn't the best way to do this. She flinched at the thought of Draco ever finding out what she and Harry were about to do.

Was she becoming a Slytherin?

She shared a lift with Draco on Wednesday. He said good morning. He was so careful around her now, not looking at her, not touching her.

She watched him as other employees joined them in the lift, and he clenched his jaw, shifting to make space for them, but still finding a way not to touch her.

"You only have one more week left, yes?"

The woman in front of her managed to turn and look at her, but Draco still could not.

"Yes. Next Friday is my last day."

The lift stopped for several people to hop off.

"That's exciting," she said. "Is everything going swimmingly? With the consulting group?"

He swallowed, staring intently at the back of a bald man's head. "So far, so good. We're on schedule to launch January 1st."

"That's wonderful. Congratulations."

The lift stopped on Level 4. She turned over her shoulder as she exited. "Have a great day." She watched as Draco eyes flickered to her, wary and curious. He nodded. And the gates closed.

Oh, yeah. She was so doing this.

Harry outlined his plan in perfect detail. Hermione was shocked.

Hermione would come upstairs to Level 2 after lunch. She would make sure to be seen by several people, like Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein, so that if something happened, her presence could be explained. She would wait for Harry in the small empty office just to the left of the lifts.

When Harry took his fifteen-minute break at 2:15PM, he would come and meet her. She would put on the Invisibility Cloak, and they would return together to his post. At 3PM, Rudolf Montgomery, Harry's assigned partner that day, would take his afternoon smoke break.

The plan went off perfectly. She had a minor heart attack trying to get from the small office in front of the lifts to the tucked away Admin office though. Harry bumped into Draco on their route back, and she flattened herself against the wall.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Draco asked about a file Harry was working on. Hermione found it quite strange how the two of them now communicated. When Draco walked away, Harry turned to where he supposed her to be.

"All good?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Harry led her to a large door at the end of the main concourse of cubicles. He held it wide so she could scurry through first. He made sure it locked behind him and led her down a corridor that hadn't seen much upkeep. They passed a few empty offices, the candles becoming more spread out the further they went. Less light.

"Just like the good old days, right 'Mione?"

They turned a corner and at the end of the hallway next to a lantern stood Montgomery. Behind Montgomery was a black door labeled, Wizengamot Administration Services File Room.

Montgomery was a pimply twenty-five-year-old. Harry greeted him, and Montgomery asked him how his break was. They began chatting Quidditch, and Hermione leaned against a wall, trying not to tap her toes.

Montgomery finally took his break at 3:04PM. According to Harry, his smoke breaks lasted fifteen to twenty minutes, but he was trying to quit. There was no telling how long his break would be if he decided not to have a cigarette. And it was raining outside.

Harry waited for Montgomery's shoes to stop echoing off the stone hallway. Hermione was sure she heard the wood door open and close, but Harry waited ten seconds more.

He turned to the black door and began reciting several unlocking spells. He spoke the password and the door swung open.

Hermione's heart was racing. Harry lead her through, leaving the door open.

It was a small dark room, decorated like the Department of Mysteries. Black tiles and low lighting. He pointed to a cabinet in the corner of the room, waving his wand. A Pensieve appeared from the bottom shelf.

Hermione threw off the Invisibility cloak.

"You have ten minutes. Fifteen at most," Harry warned, before closing the door.

She turned to the cabinet containing current memories under review. She opened the door and found it was enchanted, growing to contain thousands of vials. She would waste her ten minutes just searching!

"Draco Malfoy." She hoped. And very slowly, about ten vials came forward from the depths of the cabinet. They hovered at the front.

She ran her fingers over the labels.

Antonin Dolohov
July 6, 1997
Malfoy Manor

Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort
Re: Alecto Carrow and Amycus Carrow
August 12, 1997
Malfoy Manor

Bellatrix Lestrange
December 23, 1997
Malfoy Manor

Her fingers were greedy to pour every memory in the basin and delve into Draco Malfoy's mind, but she knew she was there for a purpose. Her fingers stuttered over one in the middle.

Yaxley, Dolohov, Greyback
December 24, 1997
Granger Residence

She turned to the Pensieve, making sure it was clear of other memories. She unstopped the vial, dripped the memory in, and lowered her head to the surface without another thought.

She landed in front of her house at dusk. She could hear the Walters' sprinklers to her right. To her left, four masked Death Eaters, all staring at the front of the house.

She looked down. Next to her a white hand clutched a hawthorn wand.

Even though she knew the four men would not find her parents, even though she knew how this story ended, even though she knew they couldn't hurt her, Hermione felt the terror flowing through her.

On a silent cue that Hermione did not understand, the four men moved. Draco brought up the rear, possibly because of his status and age. Hermione figured that Fenrir Greyback was third in line from the snarling she could hear. She distinguished Dolohov and Yaxley by their heights. Yaxley was first, then Dolohov.

Yaxley unlocked the door with his wand. Hermione thought there would have been more of a performance about it. It was a simple Alohomora, not blowing the door off the hinges. The door crept open and Yaxley moved through it slowly.

Hermione didn't understand. They were here to kill two Muggles. There were four Death Eaters here, and they were all ready for a fight. The label on the memory said December 24. Did they expect to find her there, visiting for Christmas? She and Harry were in Godric's Hollow…

She stepped through the threshold after Draco, listening to his breathing. It was just as she had found it when she'd returned – empty.

"Fuck!" Dolohov broke the silence, removing his mask. And then they sprang into action. Yaxley took the route into the kitchen, and Dolohov reluctantly followed. Greyback was sniffing the air in the entryway, but Draco pushed to the left, into the family room and ran for the stairs.

She wanted to wait, wanted to find out what happened to the wall above the fireplace, but knew she had to follow Draco. Follow the blood.

He removed his mask as he sprinted up the stairs – two at a time, like Ron used to do. Her short legs brought her halfway as he stopped at the top. She could hear Greyback behind her, following Draco.

Draco moved left, breathing hard, then turned abruptly as she reached the top of the stairs and she almost toppled herself to move out of his way as he choose right instead. Right, towards her childhood bedroom.

She followed him, and looked over her shoulder as Greyback reached the top of the stairs and turned left, toward her parents' room and the bathroom.

She was breathing hard, afraid for what she'd find, but knowing they'd find nothing.

Draco burst through the door. And she followed him inside. He stepped in, footsteps echoing off the empty room. She could hear Greyback entering her parents' room down the hall, and Dolohov and Yaxley opening cupboards and closets downstairs.

Draco spun around, and inadvertently faced her. Eyes wide, taking in the bookcases that were built into the closet – the reason this room was hers. His chest heaved for air.

And suddenly his eyes closed, his brows pinched, and he was doubling over, hands braced on his knees, catching his breath.

She watched him. Barely able to stand in her empty childhood bedroom, taking a moment to himself, unaware he was being watched.

He stood tall, bringing the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing, breathing. She'd never seen him like this. And she wondered if this is what Harry witnessed in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom.

He brought his hands away from his face, eyes still closed. He breathed in, slowly. He breathed out, opening his eyes, and he was transformed. She found the face that looked at her over Cornerstone's counter, asking her why she worked there and not Flourish and Blotts. The face that handed her a Butterbeer, sat down next to her, and almost explained to her why she was called the Golden Girl. The face that asked about her date with Rolf Scamander, that watched Aiden escort her off the lifts on his first day, that examined her as she yelled at an elevator full of people that she was not engaged to Ron Weasley. The face she couldn't decipher.

"All clear up here." His voice was smooth as he called downstairs. He turned to exit her bedroom and Fenrir Greyback was in the doorway. She gasped at the intrusion.

"This one was hers, yeah?" The smile on Greyback's face curdled her blood.

"Possibly." Draco replied. He tried to push past Greyback.

"Pity her scent isn't still here." He sniffed at the air. "I'm sure she's sweet. And ripe."

Hermione felt tears of horror spring to her eyes, and had to remind herself that Greyback was dead. She watched as Draco's left eye twitched, and then he continued past Greyback and down the stairs.

As Greyback followed she hurried around him to catch up to Draco. Yaxley and Dolohov were in the living room.

"Nothing down here."

"No scent of anyone. Must have been several months." Greyback's voice from behind her.

"Malfoy," Yaxley said, and Draco looked up at him. "Give me your arm."

Draco looked confused, but stepped forward, rolling up the sleeve of his left arm. The Dark Mark. Hermione had never seen it before on him. Yaxley laughed.

"Not that arm." Yaxley grabbed Draco's right arm and slit it open. Draco grunted in pain.

"What the fuck?" He pulled his arm back. "You dare spill Malfoy blood?" There was the Draco she recognized from school.

Yaxley sneered at him. "Don't mean as much as it used to, I hear." Yaxley pointed his wand at Draco's arm, then turned to the wall above her fireplace. She watched as the words appeared. When Yaxley finished, Dolohov laughed.

"Let's go," Yaxley ordered. Fenrir followed him out.

Dolohov stopped at Draco's side as he used his wand to heal Yaxley's cut.

"That's what you get for volunteering, whelp." Dolohov spit on the carpet at Draco's feet. Draco stood still and glared at him. Dolohov exited, and Hermione watched Draco take one last look at the wall, dripping with his blood. He turned and she followed him out.

The other three had Apparated away. Mr. Walters was moving his sprinkler. He gave Draco a strange look before returning inside. Draco glanced up and down the street, then turned back to her house, casting the Muggle-Repelling Charm.

He Disapparated, and she was pulled out, back into the small storeroom.

She checked her timepiece, shaking. She had only been inside his memory for eight minutes. She sighed, relieved that she hadn't taken up too much time.

She quickly retrieved Draco's memory, poured it back into the vial, and recapped it. With shaking fingers, she replaced it in the cabinet, and before she could close the door, her eyes caught on another vial.

Malfoy Manor
March 30, 1998

Her hands stilled. The night they were captured. The night Bellatrix tortured her. The night Draco refused to identify them.

She looked back to the door. She had seven minutes. Maybe.

She snatched the vial, tipped the memory into the basin, and was inside Malfoy Manor within moments.

Draco sat in an armchair in the drawing room, reading a book. He was thinner, gaunt around the eyes. Lucius sat opposite him in another armchair.

Scuffling in the hallway. The hallway that Hermione had just run through weeks before. Narcissa entered, leading Greyback and Scabior, a band of prisoners moving slowly behind them.

Yes. This was the moment.

"What is this?" Lucius stood.

Hermione watched as Narcissa, moved toward Draco, asking him to identify them. Narcissa was thin, too. She moved quickly, and with less grace than Hermione knew her to have. Her voice was less silky, and her hands twisted around each other as she stood. Perhaps Lucius Malfoy's list of qualities did not apply to War.

"I can't – I can't be sure." Draco's voice was pinched. Hermione saw herself struggle against the binds, her hair wild. And Draco's eyes landed on the back of her head. He looked away quickly.

She watched as Lucius and Greyback squabbled about who would get the glory of finding Harry Potter, and then Lucius brought Draco back down to examine Harry's face.

"I don't know." Draco moved away from the prisoners and to Narcissa at the fireplace.

Narcissa was talking about the wand found on Harry, and then Greyback growled, "What about the Mudblood, then?"

The snatchers turned the group of prisoners around, and she found herself at the center of attention. Hermione saw the fear on her own face and had to look away.

Narcissa stepped forward, anticipation, identifying Hermione from the paper. Hermione felt betrayed somehow, even though she knew this is what had happened. She watched as Narcissa turned to Draco.

"Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

Draco faced the fireplace. His back to the room. He mumbled, "I… maybe… yeah."

Hermione stepped toward him, trying to look at his face. It was neutral, looking into the fire. She looked up and Narcissa was watching him, hand still outstretched, gesturing toward the prisoners. Hermione watched as Narcissa's eyes scanned her son, and she brought her hand down. Narcissa stepped closer to him, and Hermione finally recognized her. Draco's mother had returned.

"—Draco, look at him," Lucius was yelling. "Isn't it Arthur Weasley's son – what's his name?"

"Yeah. It could be." Hermione watched him. Narcissa stepped closer to him, and turned her eyes on the prisoners. Narcissa opened her lips to speak to Draco, and before she could, a voice turned Hermione's veins to ice.

"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"

This was a mistake. She should exit the memory now. She'd seen what she'd wanted to see. Her time was surely almost up.

Bellatrix Lestrange slithered into the drawing room. Hermione stood frozen as Lucius and she bickered about who was going to call Voldemort. Draco still faced the fire at her side.

Bellatrix had just noticed the sword. She was stunning the Snatchers. Hermione knew what came next. She turned, about to exit, to return to the room with the Pensieve, when she noticed that Draco was shaking. Narcissa placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched.

"Draco, move this scum outside," Bellatrix said, gesturing to the immobilized bodies of the Snatchers. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

Draco started to obey, but Narcissa steadied him. "Don't you dare speak to Draco like—"

"Be quiet!" Bellatrix screamed. "The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!"

Draco had turned around when his aunt had summoned him. He still stood by the fire, but he now faced the room. The story was now reaching a part that she didn't really care to relive, but she couldn't take her eyes off of Draco. His eyes flitted about the room, not landing on anything in particular.

She heard Bellatrix order Greyback to take the boys downstairs. She turned to see herself standing in the center of the drawing room, being circled by Bellatrix. There was something slightly satisfying about watching this outside of her own body, like she could pretend it was someone else. Lucius had come to stand next to Narcissa near the fireplace, like he was giving Bellatrix space. Hermione stood with all three Malfoys near the fireplace, thinking what an odd visual it must present.

"Crucio!"

She watched as Narcissa jumped and nearly brought her hands to her chest, before returning to her original position. Lucius pursed his lips. Draco's eye twitched, but he did nothing.

She was screaming. She didn't look at herself, but she knew she had dropped to her knees.

Bellatrix growled at her, asking about the sword. She heard her own voice begging. Then the electricity of the Cruciatus Curse again and her voice screaming.

Narcissa swallowed. The curse lasted longer this time. Lucius looked down, displeased. She continued screaming.

A gasp to her right, and Hermione turned to find Draco turning around, facing the fireplace again. He brought his hand up to the mantle to steady himself. His eyes closed, gasping for breath. His shoulders shook as he brought his other hand to his stomach. Eyes pinched closed, like before.

She watched as Narcissa stepped in to him. She moved slowly, afraid of being seen, and whispered, "What would Severus say?" Her voice was gentle, and her hand was on his shoulder, squeezing.

Hermione watched as Draco took a deep breath, released it, and opened his eyes. She watched his wall build, and recognized it this time as Occlumency. Draco turned back around and faced her limp body on the floor, as his aunt dropped to her knees, pulling her knife.

She watched as he remained immobile as she screamed again, this time due to the knife cutting into her arm.

Hermione looked to Narcissa, who had cast her eyes down, then past her to Lucius, watching Draco. He scrutinized his son, looking between Draco and her body on the floor. He had seen him break seconds ago. Lucius sighed, and brought his hand up to his brow, as if of all the people in this room, his problems were the heaviest.

The room started spinning. She was being tugged back.

The Admin Office closet swam back before her. Harry was there.

"Hermione. Time's up!" He was quickly gathering the silvery memory, dropping it back in the vial. She stood watching him, breathing hard. She could still hear her voice screaming and the echo of a gasp to her right. Harry looked back at her.

"Did it work? Did you get your answer?"

She turned to him, looking in his green eyes. She shook her head, trying to put it all together.

"He would have saved me."