I couldn't let the weekend go by without another post, especially since the last one ended on a cliffhanger. One of my favorite reviews from the last chapter was when someone wrote "you would end it there." You all know me so well! Another reviewer, in reference to my author's note, asked why fonts required a 2 hour meeting. Companies are getting sued for using fonts that they don't have a license for. Which...did anyone else know that fonts required a license? Because until now, I didn't.

Chapter 18
He grabbed Hermione's wand from the nightstand and instructed Ana not to leave the room. Then, he ran down to the kitchen to find Blaise waiting for him. The kitchen table separated Hermione and Blaise, and she glanced at her husband fearfully when she saw him raise her wand. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Blaise's hands rose in the air to show that he was unarmed. "To talk," he said, trying his best to maintain a calm demeanor. "I need you to understand."

"Understand what?" Draco asked, advancing on him.

Blaise took a step back. "Why what happened to you happened."

"Hermione, call Harry. I'd like him to be here for this," Draco said, never taking his eyes off of his former friend. She did as he asked, and once she was out of the kitchen, Draco directed him to the nearest chair. Hermione returned minutes later with Harry in tow. "Good, now we're all here. Talk."

Blaise stared at the group assembled before him. Harry too had his wand trained on him as Hermione attempted to lower Draco's arm. "Start from the beginning," Harry instructed.

"It was just one memory I wanted to erase," Blaise started, staring down at his hands. "When my mother died I inherited her debt, and there was a lot of it. So much, in fact, that it wiped out all of our accounts. It's why I took that Ministry job; I needed the money. And when I found that I could sell certain potions for a good profit, I started doing that too."

"On Ministry time?" Harry asked.

Blaise nodded. "I had an unlimited supply of ingredients that I wouldn't have been able to afford on my own," he explained. "Anyhow, Draco caught me, and said he'd have to turn me in. He went on and on about how he would be blamed if someone else discovered my actions. Being a former Death Eater and all, I guess he assumed people would think he was doing it."

Draco tried to shake Hermione off his arm as he attempted to raise her wand once more. "So you sabotaged my work?" he yelled angrily. "I was in a coma for a month, I can't remember most of the last six years of my life, I've accused my wife of horrible things, and all because you were afraid I would report you?"

Harry shook his head. "You realize this is a far greater offense than black market potion making," he stated. "That would have earned you a month of probation and probably a fine since it would have been your first offense. You could have killed Draco, you realize. The Wizengamot could find you guilty of attempted murder. That carries a prison sentence."

"I was desperate," Blaise argued. "I thought it would just erase that memory, not all of them."

"And using the charm never crossed your mind?" Hermione inquired as she glared at the man she had once considered a friend.

"It could be traced back to him," Draco said. "This way, he makes it look like I messed up. No one ever would have suspected him."

Harry smirked. "Except for you," he added. Draco replied with a terse nod. "Well, the only thing to do now is take you into custody," he said to Blaise. He muttered a quick spell, whispered a message, and sent his Patronus off to the Auror office. Then he took Blaise by the arm and cuffed them behind his back. "I'll talk to the two of you later," he said as he passed Draco and Hermione.

"Wait," Draco said, stopping them in their tracks. "It had nothing to do with Hermione? Nothing to do with breaking us up?"

Blaise shook his head. "I never stood a chance with her," he replied.

Harry led him out. The fireplace in the living room roared as they disappeared in the green flames. "It doesn't change anything," Draco said sadly as he sat down at the table. "Did you know about his financial situation?"

Hermione shook her head and sat down next to him. "He never said anything to me about it," she replied. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I know it doesn't change much, but at least we know what happened."

"I want Ana to have a new godfather," he decided. "I know Blaise loves her, but I don't want him around this family ever again. Do you think we can do that? Harry or Theo, maybe."

She readily agreed, and promised that they could make the decision at a later time. "Ya know, I'm came down here to make to breakfast, but didn't get much further than pulling out a bowl," she commented. "Are you hungry? You really should eat something."

"I'm fine," he whispered, refusing to let go of her hand.

"Where's Ana?" she asked, more concerned about his turn in mood. "Draco?"

"I thought you were hurt," he replied, his voice cracking as he allowed his emotions to take over. "I told her to stay upstairs because I was afraid that if you were hurt...I didn't want her to see it."

Leaning forward, her free hand caressed his cheek. "I'm okay," she assured him. "A bit hungry maybe, but I'm okay."

"Why did he have to come now?" Draco wondered. "Things were finally starting to feel right."

The sweeping of her thumb across his skin managed the collect the tears that fell down his left cheek. "Maybe he was starting to feel guilty," she guessed. "You lost your memories and he lost his best friend."

"Guilt," Draco muttered with a mirthless laugh. "You honestly think he feels guilty about what he's done? He let me go on for three months without a clue in the world what happened to me. Guilty people don't do that. Friends don't do that."

There was no disagreeing with him, so she sat silently as she waited for him to finally relinquish her hand. He looked far away, puzzling through all he had learned so early in the morning. "Sweetheart?" she said softly. Draco looked at her, his eyes wide as if seeing her for the first time. "I think Ana needs you."

He nodded, stood, but never let go of her hand. She, too, rose. "Wait," he said, pulling her close. His free hand cupped her cheek, drawing her closer until their lips touched. It was a soft, gentle kiss, but there was no hesitancy to it. When he pulled away, he whispered, "Thank you" before he let go of her and left the kitchen.

"For what?" she wondered aloud, but there was no one there to answer her.