AN: Wow, thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. Sorry this one took so long. It was very difficult to write for some reason, but I rather think the work was worth it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time and effort to review! ShatteredTruth and BlueIrishEyes, as always, and cmtaylor531, ghzowy, ravenclaw123, Hermione09Weasley, lostxatx7thxsea, adrianna100, and BellePrincesse168! lostxatx7thxsea: Yes, my Draco is definitely and infinitely different than how JK has portrayed him thus far in the books, but this is how I think Draco's personality would have changed and grown after what he's been through. He's still a smarmy ferret though, don't worry!

Your feedback not only makes me smile but it provides me insight on my story that I can't see, you know, being the author and all. Like how it seems like everyone doesn't like Harry or Ron. Oh dear. Well, those two will have their say by the end of the story.

A super HUGE thank you to my wonderful friend and beta ideabunny for editing this chapter. Without you, this chapter would be riddled with terrible grammar mistakes!! And missing verbs. And she's been awesome about listening to me obsess over this story, about characterizations, plot, etc. So THAAAANKS. hugs

Well without further ado, here's this chapter.

Stand and Watch It Burn

VIII. The Ghost of You

Hermione signed the note she was writing and tied it around Pig's leg. Now that he was older, he was easier to manage, but he was still a handful. He was hopping furiously, waiting for Hermione to let him out. Aiden was sitting up, giggling and trying to reach for the feathery fiend.

"All right, Pig," Hermione said, finally opening the window. "Go give Ginny my note." Pig hooted and flew out.

Ginny had owled Hermione early that morning, asking Hermione to come over later that afternoon to help her finalise some decisions about flowers and bridesmaid dresses. Hermione knew she had to say yes, but there had been a moment of hesitation nonetheless. Flowers and dresses were the furthest things from Hermione's mind right now, and she wasn't sure if she could sit there by Ginny pretending to smile and be excited.

But she'd said yes. Hermione needed normalcy in her life right now, and helping Ginny plan for her wedding was better than just moping around the house, wondering what on earth was going on. The last few days were straining. Luckily for her, Ron had been busy and distracted with work. Of course, Hermione had no idea what it was about since Ron barely told her anything. But from what little Ron did tell her, Hermione could tell it was serious. He had come home late every night, and almost as soon as he came home, he went to bed.

Hermione picked up Aiden and went downstairs into the kitchen. She sighed, looking at the stack of dishes that had piled up in the sink over the last few days. Bugger, she thought. I suppose I better get on it.

"Hermione?"

Hermione craned her neck around the opening of the kitchen. To her surprise, her fire was up and roaring and there was something in the flames.

"Hermione?" the voice asked again.

"Olivia?" Hermione exclaimed as she walked closer to the fireplace.

"Oh, thank goodness, I was starting to think I had the wrong fireplace. That would have been absolutely mortifying!"

Hermione laughed. "No, you got the right one."

"Would you mind if I come over? I have something to share with you."

"Oh! Of course."

In a few minutes, Olivia appeared, carrying a large bag. As soon as she stepped through, she gave Hermione a big hug.

"It's good to see you!"

"You too," Hermione responded wholeheartedly. Truth be told, she hadn't expected to see Olivia again. She had been hopeful after her visit in the library, but as each day passed, her doubt had increased until all hope just vanished. But now, Olivia was standing in her living room.

"And who's this?" Olivia asked, bending over to where Aiden was sitting on the floor.

Hermione beamed. "This is Aiden. Say hi to Auntie Olivia, Ai," she cooed, holding up Aiden's little hand. Aiden squirmed and giggled. "I think he likes you," she remarked.

"I like him too. Aren't you a cute little ball of sunshine? Yes you are!" Olivia started playing with Aiden's hands as he grinned toothlessly at her. "He's adorable, Hermione. How old is he?"

"Almost five months now. Where's Robby?"

"Oh, at his grandparents'." Olivia was now trying to teach Aiden how to do a high five. "High five, Aiden! High… look, you do this. Okay, one more time. High five…! No, Aiden look this way. See when I hold up my hand you hit it and that's a high five, okay? All right, Aiden… High five!"

"Olivia, he's not a puppy."

"I know, but he's so cute. I remember when Robby was this little." She smiled fondly. "They grow up so fast. I know everyone says that all the time, but goodness it's so true. Robby's almost four now. He looks more and more like his father every day."

"It must be hard," Hermione remarked, "to raise him alone."

Olivia pressed her lips together and slowly breathed in and out. "It is," she said shortly. Rising up, she put on a big smile and clapped her hands. "Well, then!" she said in an artificially cheery voice. "The reason I came here…"

"You mean you didn't just come to visit?" Hermione teased.

Olivia's face broke into a genuine grin. "Do you want to know why I came or not?"

"What did you find?"

"Plenty," Olivia said as patted the bag she carried on her arm.

"Well, let me get some tea started and we can look over the stuff you found."

x x x

Here... and there...
Haunting my closets and drawers
my Evermore...

x x x

Draco was now very annoyed. He narrowed his eyes and examined the infernal clock on the wall. It very clearly read 10:05. 10:06. Six minutes now. Jesus Christ, Draco fumed. Is Potter late for everything? He was late again. Not that Draco had to be anywhere anytime soon but this colourful room was definitely starting to agitate Draco, and he could swear that it was starting to affect his vision. Draco tried to focus his eyes on one of the wall hangings. Yes, things were definitely starting to look a bit blurry.

Without warning, the door swung open and a blur of black hair sped by.

"Sorry, Malfoy," Harry said hurriedly, shuffling files and papers around his desk. "Everything in this office is an absolute mess right now. There's so much going on right now…"

Draco sat, silent, merely glowering at Harry's back.

"So," Harry said, plopping into his chair. "How are you?"

Draco's look changed to one of disbelief. Was Potter trying to make small talk? "Excuse me?"

"How are you?" Harry repeated as if it were the most obvious thing anyone could say in that situation. "How was your week? Anything unusual? Strange occurrences? Threats?"

"Er… no, I just stayed mostly in the manor all week… What on earth are you rambling on about, Potter?"

"What places did you visit this past week?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter, I didn't realise we were exchanging niceties."

"Just answer the question, Malfoy."

"Am I obligated to?"

Harry looked coolly at the man sitting on the other side of his desk. "Do you have anything to hide?"

"Fair enough," Draco answered. "Like I said, I stayed mostly in the manor. I did make a stop in Diagon Alley to pick up a new cauldron. That's all. You don't really expect me to be wandering around the wizarding world do you, Potter? Everyone bloody hates me."

Harry nodded. "You remember the terms of your release."

"Yeah."

"No Dark Arts."

"Yes."

"Let me examine your wand and you'll be on your way."

"You mean I waited six whole minutes for a two minute examination?" Draco asked sarcastically. "That was well worth the wait. It's almost better than going in for my annual check-up… when I have to wait a whole bloody hour for a five minu…"

"Do you want to go or not, Malfoy?"

Draco practically threw his wand at Harry, who didn't even blink as he caught it. Goddamn reflexes, Draco thought sullenly. That was probably why the Dark Lord couldn't off Potter. Anytime he'd get close, Potter and his goddamn reflexes would just run away and hide behind a rock which conveniently happened to be there, just so Potter could jump behind it.

"Here," Harry said, handing Draco back his wand. When Draco didn't move, Harry said, "You can go now."

x x x

And now...
And then...
Forgetting that everything's changed
I call her name...

x x x

Harry watched as Malfoy exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.

Seeing Malfoy again was strangely difficult. Almost as strangely difficult as seeing Snape again. Harry had expected a certain amount of ambivalence during their first meeting, but he was surprised at exactly how ambivalent he was. He had thought – or hoped, maybe – that after the initial shock of seeing Malfoy again, he could go back to simply hating Malfoy. And he did… mostly, anyway. Any feeling of friendship was gone, really. Not that he and Malfoy had been friends of any sort. Well almost. They had been almost friends. Of course, he and Malfoy never really could have been friends, so to speak. At least, he'd never admit it.

But Ron was his friend. His best friend. And three years ago, when he had to choose a side to stand on, it wasn't hard at all. Besides, he had seen with his own eyes what had happened, and there hadn't been a shadow of a doubt in his mind then. Three years ago, he was absolutely convinced.

Now, seeing Malfoy again… well, Harry couldn't quite explain it. All he knew was he wasn't quite as certain as he had been three years ago.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to clear his mind. He had tons of work to do. He couldn't sit around, moping about Draco Malfoy. Things had been awfully busy lately.

Someone knocked on his door. "Harry?"

"Come in."

It was Ron. "Hey, so I was wondering if I could have the day off tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Harry consulted his calendar. "June 5th?"

Ron nodded. "It's our anniversary, me and Hermione's."

Harry slapped himself on the head. "Oh, right, of course. Ron, you know we're busy as hell around here. There's been a lot of stuff going on and…"

"Yeah, I know, but I really feel like I need to take the day off and spend some extra time with Hermione. We've been working like dogs these past few days, and I haven't really had time to just talk to her. I can tell she's upset I haven't been really paying attention to her lately. You know how she gets. All quiet and sullen and expecting you to read her mind. I bet she doesn't even think I remember our anniversary."

"Can't you just… take her out to a nice dinner and buy her flowers or something?"

Ron gave Harry a scandalous look. "Are you mad, man? Clearly, you are not yet married."

Just then, Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the room. "Potter," he said. "Er… am I interrupting something?"

"The unmarried man is giving me advice on how to spend my wedding anniversary," Ron informed Kingsley.

Kingsley stared at Ron, unsure of what to make of the situation. "Ri-ight," he said. "Potter, there's been reports of some action in Kensington. Tonks and I think you should send some scouts to investigate what's been going on… but we think it's pretty serious."

Harry nodded. He gave Ron a I-told-you-so look, and Ron responded with a but-Hermione-will-kill-me look. Sighing, Harry threw up his hands in the air. "Fine! Ron, take tomorrow off if you go to Kensington today. And don't even think of leaving early tonight. You're going to be working overtime today if you really want to take a day off."

Ron grinned. "Thanks, mate. You're the best."

"Right," Harry said.

x x x

And I heard the stories
She tried to tell me
I don't believe in ghosts.

x x x

Many different issues of The Daily Prophet and other news magazines were spread out across the kitchen table. Hermione picked up one in particular and shook it in Olivia's face.

"The Quibbler?"

"Read it," Olivia urged.

Hermione looked more closely to examine the cover story. "Draco Malfoy: Good or Evil? They didn't…"

"They were the only one," Olivia said, "to even suggest that perhaps Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater. Of course, half the story is absolute rubbish, and most people consider anything in The Quibbler to be garbage anyway. But I thought it might be worth a look since Lios Lovegood's daughter was involved with the Order."

"Luna," Hermione said.

Olivia nodded. "Strange girl," she commented. "We were in the same house, but I was a few years ahead, so I never really talked to her, but from what I heard, she was quite strange. Never really saw much of her, but sometimes in the common room, she would be in a corner by herself, reading The Quibbler."

"Luna was always a bit odd," Hermione admitted.

"Well, anyway," Olivia continued, "I just brought anything and everything I could that mentioned Draco Malfoy and his arrest. And I noticed something really strange."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, picking up another article.

"Details changed around a lot. First it was Malfoy. Then it was Malfoy and a group of Death Eaters. Then it was Malfoy leading the Death Eaters. The story describing Malfoy became progressively worse. Some sources say it happened during the daytime, but then that changed to 'middle of the night.' Makes it sound more dodgy, I suppose."

"The media is hardly reliable."

"True," Olivia said. "But in spite of all those variations, the stories all seem to include one very important, common detail: the location. The story always takes place in Remus Lupin's cabin."

"Lupin's cabin," Hermione mused. "Why would they be there?"

"No one can seem to figure that out either," Olivia remarked. "Lots and lots of speculation."

"None of which is right!" Hermione fumed. "Most of them say they were trying to convince Remus to join the Dark Side. That makes no sense at all. Lupin was Head of the Order, for Merlin's sake. Why would they even bother trying?"

"Seems like no one wanted to admit a werewolf was in charge of the organization saving our arses," Olivia commented. "People still haven't given Lupin his due."

"But it still begs the question as to why Malfoy was in Lupin's cabin," Hermione pressed.

"Yes," Olivia nodded, "which is why I thought we should go investigate."

"Yeah," Hermione said. Running her hand through all the newspapers, Hermione sighed. "I can't believe I missed all of this," she added softly.

Olivia reached over for Hermione's hand, patting it reassuringly. "It's not your fault, Hermione."

Hermione smiled weakly. "I should have…"

"No," Olivia said firmly. "I won't let you blame yourself. It was not your fault, all right?"

"All right," Hermione mumbled.

"Good," Olivia said. "Now, Lupin's cabin. I did some research, and I think I know where it is."

x x x

Here...
The sound...
Maybe it's her coming home
But I'm alone...

x x x

Draco was in a sour mood by the time he got home. He hated that he had to check in with Potter every week. He absolutely loathed Potter's ridiculous office which mocked him with its bright, cheerful colours and pictures of ridiculously happy people. This week was worse than the last too. As he was leaving, he saw a shock of red hair that looked suspiciously like Weasley's. Were the Aurors really that desperate they had to hire the absolutely incompetent Weasley? Riding the coattails of his best friend's success, Draco figured. After all, what had Weasley ever done that was remotely heroic? What had Weasley ever done to deserve what he had?

He knew he was being petulant, but Draco had taken care to slam any door on his way out of the Ministry. God damn Weasley.

The moment he arrived back in the manor, Milly appeared with a crack.

"Mistress wants young master to know she's waiting for him in the green drawing room," she squeaked.

Draco sighed and nodded. "Fine. Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes."

The green drawing room was much cleaner now than when Draco had come across it two weeks ago, but there was still a detached, distant feeling about it.

When he got to the drawing room, he was greeted by the sight of his mother surrounded by bags and bags of things. "Draco," she said, "come here, son. Look at these things I've bought for you."

Draco groaned slightly. "Mother…"

"You need new things," his mother continued. "You need a fresh start. Throw out all your old things and replace them with these."

"I like my old things, Mother."

"Here's a new dressing gown, just like your old one. I had to get it specially ordered. What happened to that anyway? Oh, and here. New dress robes, and here's new everyday robes. I bought you new shoes and a new hat…"

He had reached a new ultimate low. His mother was shopping for him. "Mother," he said, shaking one of the dress robes, "this is bright blue."

Narcissa looked up. "Yes, and?"

Draco held it up. He felt nauseous just looking at them. "I don't wear bright blue."

Narcissa sighed. "Oh, Draco, please, they are lovely robes and you would look so handsome in them."

"For what, Mother? For who to see? And… I. Don't. Wear. Bright. Blue."

"Draco, they cost me 130 Galleons. You will wear them."

Draco threw the robe down. "I'm not in the mood for this right now, Mother."

"Don't you turn away… Draco! Where are you going?"

Away from here, Draco thought. He went upstairs to his room. He barreled through the door and dropped onto his bed. Burrowing his head into the pillows, he desperately tried to just get a grip. He couldn't be like this. He couldn't let them get to him like this. Three years, he reminded himself fiercely. Three damn long years.

Mysteriously, Draco smelled the trace of a different scent in his sheets. Perplexed, Draco tried to pin down exactly what it was. It was familiar, but he couldn't place it. Draco's mind ran wildly until he finally knew what it was. Cinnamon.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Banana muffins with a crumb topping. Would you like one?"

In a rage, Draco tore off the sheets and threw them across his room. Fuck them. Fuck them all. He didn't care.

Just then, there was a rapping at his bedroom window. Outside was a handsome tawny owl, hooting softly. Reluctantly, Draco went over and let the owl in.

"What is it," he snapped at the inoffensive creature.

The owl hooted benignly and offered Draco his leg. Draco removed the letter and read it.

Dear Draco,

I haven't heard from you in ages, and it'd be wonderful to see you again. If you would come over for dinner tomorrow, it would be absolutely lovely. My wife and I would be happy to have you.

Yours,

Alan Davids

What the hell was Davids playing at? Draco stared at the letter. His lawyer for Merlin's sake. His lawyer invited him to dinner. He wasn't that needy for company. Who needed company anyway? All company had ever done for him was get him in trouble.

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and furiously wrote his rejection.

x x x

No I never seen one
Never been one
I don't believe in ghosts.

x x x

Sunlight filtered in through the foliage, illuminating the trees and plant life. Wildflowers sprung up from the ground, adding flecks of colour to the clumps of grass. It was, Hermione thought, in spite of being so far away from civilization, a rather cheery forest. But as she walked through, she couldn't shake off the strange, ominous feeling filling her.

"Over this way," Olivia said.

Hermione followed Olivia, her head still turning around to look at everything. There was something about this place. Something.

The forest was full of mainly rowan trees, speckled with soft white blooms. There were the occassional birch and elder trees. As Hermione continued to trudge behind Olivia, she noticed a handsome oak tree on her right. Captivated by it, she slowly approached it. Cautiously, she reached out and gently rested a hand on the rough bark.

An oak tree. A bench, underneath its budding branches. A gentle breeze, softening the warm rays of the sun. A scent of spring.

"Where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise. If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise anymore, would it?"

"You're being childish."

"We're almost there. It's just past that gate…"

"Hermione?"

Blinking, Hermione stepped back and stared at the oak tree in bewilderment. What just happened there?

"Hermione?" Olivia's voice was drawing nearer.

"I'm here," Hermione called back.

Olivia appeared from behind a birch tree. "Oh thank goodness. I turned around and you'd disappeared. I had no idea what happened to you and I was starting to get worried."

Hermione gave the oak tree one last look. "I'm all right," she said finally. "So, the cabin?"

"This way," Olivia said, gesturing with her head.

Olivia started walking off, and Hermione followed suit. Her feet were moving forward, but her mind was still back with the oak tree. What happened there? It was so strange. The scene that played in her head was something completely foreign to her… and yet there was something about it she faintly recognized…

"I think it's just past this clearing," Olivia said.

They had come upon an open part of the forest. It was somewhat large, covered with soft, green grass and spotted with dandelions. Hermione looked up at the brilliantly blue sky and stared at the sun, shining fiercely.

"When do you think it will be over?"

"When will what be over?"

"You know."

"Not soon enough…"

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"What?" Hermione felt slightly dazed.

"You look kinda faint. Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel… slightly… woozy," Hermione admitted.

Olivia laughed. "Staring at the sun might do that for you. Don't you know that can cause blindness? We're almost there. I can see it now. Let's go."

They reached the cabin without any further episodes. Hermione stared at the little cabin in front of them. It was small and looked run down… like no one had been there in three years.

Olivia pushed the door open, and the two of them stepped in. The cabin was in a state of absolute disarray.

"My goodness," Olivia said, stepping over a pile of fallen books. "This place is a mess. Watch for that glass," she warned, pointing to a shattered mirror. "And Lord, the kitchen is completely destroyed. I'm going to go check the bedroom."

Hermione bent over the pile of books Olivia had walked by. She sifted through the books, examining them. The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. Hermione smiled. Apparently, she and Lupin shared the same taste in Muggle literature.

There was also a small assortment of wizarding titles. Quidditch Through the Ages. Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course Lupin loved Quidditch. Hogwarts, a History also was among them, standing out in its recognizable red cover. Underneath that was an old looking book. Hermione opened the cover. On the title page was the title Y Goddodin, written in elaborate script. Underneath were the words, "Llyfr Aneirin."

"I like that. I think it's perfect."

Hermione pushed the book away. What is that doing here?

"Hermione, I think you should take a look at this."

Snapping her head up, Hermione looked wildly around to see where the voice was coming from. "Olivia? Where are you?"

"In the bedroom," she responded.

Hermione pushed herself up and walked across the living room and into the small bedroom. She stopped by Olivia's side. "What is it?"

"Look," Olivia said.

Like the rest of the cabin, the room was a mess. There were two broken chairs. A couple of torn pillows lay on top of the rumpled forest green sheets of the bed. The dresser was on its side and its drawers were hanging open, clothes falling out of them. Several smashed picture frames were crushed underneath the dresser. By the door, there were two hooks, and Hermione could see what appeared to be the remains of dressing gowns hanging from them – one a green satin and the other a scarlet terry.

"Two of everything. Lupin wasn't alone," Olivia said shrewdly.

Hermione's attention, however, was fixated on the shreds hanging precariously on the hooks.

Green satin with silvery trim. "My mother bought it for me," he had explained.

"But you like it. The colours. You would."

"Naturally. But I do rather fancy yours as well."

"But it's red."

"Yes, but it is also very short."

"Malfoy!…"

"Damn, these are some nice sheets," Olivia said, holding them up.

Hermione turned and gave the sheets a look. Recognition dawned on her face and she laughed. "You'd think so, but Malfoy constantly complained about them. Apparently even Egyptian cotton is hardly good enough for him."

Olivia gave her a strange look. "What?"

"What?" Hermione blinked.

"Hermione, you just… you just said…"

"What did I say?" Hermione asked, confused.

"You said… You said Malfoy complained about these sheets. Why would he complain about these sheets? And how would you know?"

Hermione felt her pulse racing. "I… did?"

Olivia nodded severely.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. Images flashed in her mind. The cabin, looking neat and tidy, quaint and charming. Filling the empty bookshelves with some of her favourite titles. A sink full of dishes. Malfoy's smirk.

Drawing in a ragged breath, Hermione tried to steady herself. She knew now why everything seemed so familiar. "Olivia," she said slowly, "I think… I remember now. Draco Malfoy… he… we were here. He was in this cabin, and I was with him. But not like The Prophet says. He wasn't here looking for Lupin. He was hiding here. Draco Malfoy was part of the Order… and I was his guard."

AN: Aha. Here we are! Slowly, bit by bit, Hermione's starting to remember. It's a rather painful revelation for her.

Song lyrics: "I Don't Believe in Ghosts" by Duncan Sheik, the mastermind behind Spring Awakening.

So what do we think? I'm not usually one to pander for reviews but can we hit double digits?