AN: Sigh! Deathly Hallows finally comes out tomorrow! Silly me, didn't preorder one, but it's all right. I'm sure I'll get my hands on one soon enough. Anyway, this is probably time I'll update before I read book 7. (Though who knows? Getting it might take longer than expected.) And this may be the last time it won't be AU!! Who else is slightly scared JK will just off Malfoy? Sigh, only time shall tell.

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers cmtaylor531, confusednikki24-7, BlueIrishEyes, Mela, ShatteredTruth, tankbbg, missbookwormmalfoy, Hermione09Weasley, and lostxatx7thxsea. BIE, I did wonder where you went off to, but I figured there was a good reason. I had faith. :P And yes, lost, I've got Malfoy hidden in my linen closet and I constantly annoy him with "What if?" questions. He's not very happy. I'd be happy to lend him out if you'd like to borrow.

With that, I give you this chapter. Enjoy! It's a dandy.


Stand and Watch It Burn

XIII. Dividing Day

Never before had Hermione realised what a burden knowledge could be. She had always been a proponent of learning and studying and knowing everything. She wasn't called a know-it-all for nothing. But right now, Hermione wished there were some things she didn't. The three weeks after her anniversary were hellish.

The only time Hermione could feel any sort of relief was when Ron was away and she was home alone with Aiden. A few times she went to Olivia's place. Around Olivia, she didn't have to pretend to not know the secrets she did. Olivia, with her love of literature and knowledge of Muggle books (she was working in the library, after all) also proved to be an interesting conversationalist… and a satisfactory distraction. If Hermione needed an escape from her constant thinking, she would simply go over to Olivia's for book discussions and tea.

But it was only a temporary solution. Soon afterward, Hermione would remember again, and she would start thinking again.

Hermione could not remember past befriending Malfoy, but it was more than enough to bother, annoy, and stress her every waking minute. Hermione had run through the few memories she had over and over again in her head, trying to analyze every little last detail and straining to remember more… anything at all. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she focused, no matter how hard she thought about it, Hermione simply could not recall anything more.

One morning, Hermione was cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. Ron had just left for work. Hermione had cleared the dishes off the table when she noticed that Ron had left a hefty stack of documents labeled "URGENT" in bright, red, flashing letters. Hermione rolled her eyes. So typical of Ron to leave behind important papers, she thought. She collected them and placed them in a neat pile on the counter so they wouldn't get dirty from the food. "I guess we'll be making a stop at the Ministry today, Aiden. How's that sound?"

"Mini!" Aiden chirped, banging his hands against the table on the highchair.

Hermione smiled. Aiden wasn't quite talking yet, but he made certain noises that they could manage to interpret. "Yes, I'm glad you agree."

After Hermione had washed all the dishes, she went upstairs and got Aiden's diaper bag. Hermione figured since she was going to the Ministry anyway, she might as well make a trip out of it. She though Arthur might like a surprise visit from his little grandson at work. Having retrieved the bag, Hermione tucked the papers neatly into one of the pockets and slung the bag over her shoulder. Hermione picked up Aiden and Flooed over to the Ministry.

Hermione hadn't been to the Ministry in a while. Almost a year now, Hermione thought. A year ago, Hermione had left her job in International Magical Cooperation for maternity leave… and she'd never returned. After Aiden was born, she and Ron agreed that it'd be better for her to stay home and take care of Aiden. Well, Ron thought so, anyway. Walking down the halls, Hermione felt rather wistful. She wished she was there again, working.

She eventually found her way to the Auror's Office. Tonks spotted her immediately.

"Hermione!"

"Tonks!" Hermione smiled at the bubble-gum pink haired girl. "How are you? I haven't seen you in a while."

"Good," Tonks said. She smiled abashedly. "Great, actually. I just found out…"

"You just found out…" Hermione prompted.

"I'm pregnant," Tonks whispered, grinning broadly.

Hermione's mouth dropped. "Tonks that's… that's great! Congratulations!" Hermione gave her a calculating look. "What does Remus think?"

"Oh, Remus." Tonks sighed. "Well, at first, he was shocked as bloody hell, but now I think it's safe to say… and please pardon the pun… he's over the moon."

Hermione groaned. "That was bad," she said. "But I'll forgive you that since you're in a delicate condition."

Tonks rolled her eyes and then leaned over and started playing with Aiden's hands. "How does that sound, Ai? Soon you'll have a little playmate." Aiden squealed with delight. Tonks grinned. "Yeah, I think so too!"

"So…" Hermione said, "has dear old Lupin said anything about getting married, perhaps?"

Hermione didn't think Tonks's grin could get any wider but she was wrong. Tonks's mouth was now literally stretched across her face. "We'll have a small ceremony after Harry's wedding," she said. "In two months. We're announcing later this week at dinner."

"I'm so happy for you, Tonks," Hermione said.

Tonks grined. "Yeah," she said. "Well, I mustn't delay you any longer. Why did you come, Hermione?"

"Ron left some papers that looked rather important at home, so I thought I'd bring them here."

"Ooh, Ron actually just left to do some field work. Why don't you leave them with Harry? I'm sure he'll know what to do with it. And I'm sure he'll be glad to see his little godson."

"That's a good idea," Hermione responded. "I'll see you later, Tonks."

Tonks nodded happily and returned to her cubicle.

"How about it, Aiden?" Hermione asked her little son. "Want to go see Uncle Harry?"

"Unghery!" Aiden cooed, clapping his hands with glee.

Hermione smiled. That she knew meant Uncle Harry. "I'll take that as a yes," Hermione replied. Hermione readjusted Aiden on her hip and continued on to the office in the corner. Seeing that the door was slightly ajar, Hermione assumed that this meant she could enter. Without bothering to knock, Hermione pushed the door open.

At the sound of the opening door, two heads swiveled around to stare at her. Hermione was greeted by two pairs of staring eyes – one a startled green and the other a haunting grey. Sitting in front of Harry's desk was none other than Draco Malfoy.

- - -

Dashing as the day we met,
Only there is something I don't recognize.
Though I cannot name it yet, I know it.
Beautiful is what you are,
Only somehow wearing a frightening disguise.
I can see the winter in your eyes, love, telling me:
"Thank you, We're done here, Not much to say.
We are together but I have had dividing day."

- - -

"So, Malfoy, the usual questions…"

"No, I haven't done any Dark Arts. No, I haven't met with any Death Eaters. No, I haven't tried to recreate the resurrection of the Dark Lord," Malfoy droned.

Harry sighed and then nodded. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"

Draco snorted. "You ask me that every week, Potter. And every week, I respond with the same answer: what could I possibly have to tell you?"

"All right," Harry said, slightly annoyed. "Then just hand over your wand and I'll let you go."

Harry had just returned Malfoy's wand to Malfoy when the door suddenly opened. Looking up, Harry felt a huge sense of dread in his stomach. In the doorframe stood the very last person - other than the reincarnation of Voldemort - that Harry wanted to see at that moment. It was Hermione, holding Aiden in her arms. Her brown eyes were bright and wide with shock.

"H-Hermione?" Harry jumped up out of his chair. A couple of photo frames toppled over. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm… I'm just… papering some drop offs… I mean dropping off some papers," Hermione rambled. "Oh, I suppose I should have knocked. I'm so sorry. I'll wait outside. I'm so sorry." Hermione slammed the door shut.

Harry stared at the closed door for a while before he looked back at Malfoy. Malfoy hadn't moved at all. His head was still turned towards the door, but his eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped.

"Err… Malfoy?" Harry said uneasily.

Malfoy slowly moved his head to look at Harry. "Aiden," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Aiden," he repeated. "Her son. That was her son."

"Oh," Harry said. "Yes."

Malfoy silently stood up and moved towards the door.

"Malfoy!" He stopped and turned to look at Harry.

"What is it, Potter?"

"Are you…" Harry cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

Malfoy turned his head away. "What do you think?" he snarled in a low voice. Malfoy flung the door open and left without another sound.

Harry slumped into his chair and allowed his head to fall onto and then hit the desk. He couldn't believe that had just happened. Hermione! he thought. Harry dashed outside his office, expecting… hoping to see Hermione sitting on the bench just outside the door. But when he got there, the bench was empty except for a neat little pile of papers. Harry smacked himself on the head. What was he going to tell Ron? No. He wasn't going to tell Ron anything. After all, nothing had happened. Hermione had just happened to see Malfoy. They hadn't talked, and Hermione showed no signs of recognizing Malfoy. It was better, he decided. He couldn't tell Ron. Ron would just worry, and there was nothing to worry about… right?

- - -

So when, when was this day?
Was it on the church step?
Suddenly you're out of love.
Does it go creeping slowly?
When was your dividing day?

- - -

Hermione could feel her heart in her throat. She sat on the bench, trying to catch her breath.

Malfoy. She had just seen Malfoy. When their eyes met, she felt lightheaded and restricted at the same time. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. She could only stare into his grey eyes.

Harry had brought her back to her senses, and the moment he did, she had dashed out. Hermione didn't know why, but she couldn't stay there with Malfoy.

"I think it's time to go home, Ai," Hermione said to her little son. Leaving the papers on the bench, Hermione started collecting her things to go. A sudden door slam drew her attention, and she looked up to see what it was.

Someone had swept by her angrily. When Hermione looked more closely, she caught sight of white blonde hair. Without even thinking, Hermione started chasing after him. When she was a few feet behind him, she managed to find her voice and call out his name. "Malfoy!"

"What is i-" Malfoy started to say as he angrily turned around. The moment he saw her, he stopped speaking. His face broke down really quickly, but Malfoy then quickly recomposed himself. "Granger," he said evenly. "Or should I say… Weasley now."

"Professionally, I still go by Granger… or did, anyway. When I was still working," Hermione corrected.

Malfoy gave her a bored look. "Well, what do you want?" he drawled. "Did you stop me here in the hallway to tell me about the wondrous evolution of your last name?"

Hermione blushed. "No, I…"

"Well, what is it? Because you are wasting my time."

Hermione was confused now. In her new memories, Hermione could tell they had gotten along. Maybe they weren't best friends, but they most certainly weren't jumping down each other's throats like Malfoy was now. Were her memories wrong? There's still a lot you don't remember, she reminded herself. Perhaps something happened. Like you and he got into a fight. But how could she bring it up? How could she ask him without sounding ridiculous or being obvious? And more importantly… did she really want to know if she was right? Did she want to know if she was wrong?

"I just… wanted to know how you are," Hermione finished lamely.

Malfoy laughed harshly. "What is with you people and frivolous, foolish small talk? That's not what you wanted to say to me, Granger. Now spit it out before I leave."

Hermione drew up all her courage. She needed to know the truth. Now or never. "What happened three years ago in the cabin?" she asked finally.

Malfoy stared wordlessly at her. His eyes were finally unshielded, and Hermione could swear in his eyes she caught a brief glimpse of anger, fear, and… pain? Hermione couldn't say for sure because it vanished almost as quickly as it came. Malfoy's eyes returned to a steely, emotionless grey. "I have no idea what you're blathering on about, Granger."

"But…"

"This is nonsense," Malfoy said, cutting her off. "I have no time to play games like this."

Hermione grasped for words. "I…"

"So if you have nothing of importance to say," Malfoy brusquely continued, "I'll be on my way."

Malfoy was turning to go. Hermione felt a strange falling sensation in her stomach. He was leaving. She couldn't let him leave. Not again. "Malfoy… please, wait… Malfoy…" He kept going, ignoring her. "Draco, listen to me!" she finally called out in frustration.

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, his back still facing Hermione. He seemed to be breathing deeply, as his shoulders were rising and falling at an extreme pace. Hermione cautiously walked toward him. "Malfoy?" she asked.

Without saying anything else, Malfoy walked away, leaving Hermione completely confused.

- - -

When was dividing day?
Was it on the church step?
Did it happen right away?
Were you lying next to me,
Hiding what you couldn't say?
How could I have guessed?
Was my cheek upon your chest?
An ocean away…

- - -

Draco's world was spinning. He somehow managed to Apparate back to the manor without splinching himself, but once he reached the manor, he collapsed onto the marble floor. Draco couldn't breathe. He could barely see. Draco had come close to dying many different times before, but he was certain that this was more painful than all those times combined. He was absolutely positive that any torture would be less painful than what he had just suffered back at the Ministry.

She had been there, looking almost exactly the same as he remembered her. Something was slightly different though. Three years of marriage and motherhood had changed her, he supposed. She carried herself differently now. Draco wasn't sure how else to explain it. But physically, it was as if a memory had come to life.

As if that alone were not cruel enough, she was there with her son. Draco's heart ached at the thought of her carrying her young son who looked so ridiculously like Weasley, from the same blue eyes to the obnoxiously red hair. Draco closed his eyes, trying so hard to chase that image away.

Her voice. He couldn't run from it or chase it away. The sound of it kept ringing in his ears, haunting him like a ghostly melody.

Draco, listen to me…

Draco tried to stand, but his legs felt like they would collapse from beneath him. Unsteadily, he tried to walk upstairs to his room. But he couldn't make it up the winding staircase. Draco sat down on the step, hoping to clear his head.

She had spoken to him. She had spoken to him civilly as if somehow she knew… Draco jerked his head up. She had asked about the cabin three years ago. Was it possible? Could she somehow have remembered…?

He shook his head violently. Draco couldn't afford to waste time on such stupid and ridiculous fancies. He couldn't afford to get his hopes up. All these years, Draco had already suffered enough disappointments.

She was happy now. She was married and had a family. And she didn't remember and she never would. He knew that.

- - -

When was
When was dividing day?

- - -

"Hermione? Is everything all right?"

"Olivia," Hermione gasped, "you'll… I…"

"Here, sit," Olivia instructed, directing Hermione to her sofa. "Now, after you've caught your breath, maybe you can try to explain to me what happened."

Hermione nodded. She inhaled and exhaled slowly until finally her breathing had some semblance of normalcy. Hermione wasn't sure how to lead in to what she wanted to say, so she decided not to. "I saw Draco Malfoy," she said bluntly, without any introduction.

Olivia's mouth dropped. "Where?"

"At the Ministry," Hermione replied. "Ron left some papers at home, so I went to return them to him. He wasn't there… but Malfoy was."

Olivia was still slackjawed and gaping at her. "Did you… talk to him?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah," Hermione said. She sighed. "But it wasn't much of a conversation. He didn't seem to care to talk to me."

"Why?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Olivia looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Maybe you two weren't friends after a while. You did say you don't remember anything past November of that year."

"No." Hermione shook her head adamantly. "It was different. It wasn't like he hated me or he was mad at me. It was like didn't even want to see me. Like he wanted to get away as quickly as possible. And his eyes…" Hermione's voice drifted off. The image of his stormy grey eyes had burned itself into her memory, and ever since the Ministry, she couldn't help but constantly think about them.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "His eyes?" she repeated.

"Something about them. I don't know," Hermione muttered, flushing a bit. After collecting herself a bit, she tried to explain. "It was the only part that showed any emotion at all. The rest of his face was like a mask. Only his eyes…"

"Right," Olivia said, slightly apprehensively. "Well, did you find out any useful information from him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I asked him about what happened three years ago in the cabin."

Olivia looked at her expectantly. "And?" she asked eagerly.

"Nothing," Hermione answered blandly.

Olivia's face dropped. "Nothing?"

Hermione shook her head. "Olivia, do you think perhaps… my memories didn't actually happen? That perhaps they're just creations of an overactive imagination?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

Sighing, Olivia took Hermione by the shoulders firmly. "We've been through this fifty times now. No. I do not. There's too much evidence that supports your memories. Like, remember how you told me about Malfoy reading that Muggle book… what was it?"

"Mayor of Casterbridge," Hermione replied automatically.

"Right," Olivia said, nodding. "We found that at the cabin, remember? And don't forget the newspaper articles. Someone modified your memory, and clearly that someone didn't want you to remember what happened for whatever reason. But obviously, they can't stop your memories from coming back… which they seem to be doing now. You are remembering what happened three years ago. It's just your so-called friends have been lying to you these last few years so now you're unsure."

"It's not just that," Hermione interjected. "It's Malfoy's reaction, too. It was so weird, Olivia. It's almost as if I'm living in some sort of parallel universe. None of this makes sense."

"That's because we don't have all the pieces of the puzzle yet," Olivia responded. "But once we do, I bet all of this… everything will make sense. You just need to get all the information you can."

"How?"

"We need to get the information from someone who we can be sure wouldn't lie to us," Olivia mused. "But who?"

"Well, certainly not Ron," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. "He hasn't exactly been very truthful about this Malfoy thing."

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at her. "Not say that it's not justified, but may I remind you that you are currently doing the same thing?"

Hermione looked at Olivia indignantly. "It's not the same!" she exclaimed. "I'm trying to find the truth that Ron so deliberately hid – and continues to hide." Hermione threw up her arms in frustration. "Sometimes, in darker moments, I wonder what else Ron has lied to me about. I would suspect everything if he weren't such a terrible liar."

"Maybe he had his reasons…"

Hermione looked at the girl in amazement. "Olivia, why are you defending him?"

Olivia shrugged. "I really don't know," she admitted. "I like playing devil's advocate sometimes, I guess."

"Well, I'm sure you're right. Ron probably does have his reasons," Hermione said. "Stupid, immature, inane reasons, but reasons nonetheless. Probably some stupid thing he got mad at Malfoy for. Don't ask me to get into that boy's head. He can be so absolutely ridiculous and unreasonable sometimes!"

Olivia looked at Hermione thoughtfully. She snapped her fingers. "I got it. There is definitely one person you can talk to," she said.

"Who?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Malfoy," Olivia replied.

"Right," Hermione said, "if only he'd talk to me. I told you, Olivia, when I tried talking to him, he didn't even care to listen to what I had to say."

"He's your best shot," Olivia insisted. "Who else would know better what happened to him? Everyone else is hiding it from you, so we have no reason to believe they would tell you even if you asked. There's a lot more to this story than you remember and anyone else has ever told you. Malfoy is your best bet, Hermione."

"Maybe you're right," Hermione said reluctantly.

"Just think about it," Olivia said. "Ultimately, it's your memory and it's your decision. Maybe some things are better left undiscovered."

"Maybe," Hermione said doubtfully.

Olivia patted Hermione's hand reassuringly. "Whatever you choose, I'm sure it will be for the best."

Hermione sighed. "I hope so."

AN: Yes! It finally happened! I was wondering when the best time for them to meet might be, and I figured now might be all right. (There are some overlaps in narration, but I figured my readers would be bright enough to figure it out!) So their first great confrontation! Guess it wasn't that great.

Anyway, poor Draco! Poor Hermione! She's so frustrated and angry now. Can't blame her though.

Greatly appreciated, reviews are.

Hope everyone has fun reading DH! Oh what shall happen...?