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A/n: This is a really short chapter for you all. I'm so sorry it's been such a long wait! Hopefully we'll get to moving quicker here!

Chapter 16

Hermione
Present

They fell into a sort of routine together. After the children had been put to bed and their work was completed she would find herself in the library with him, cocoa steaming before them as he shared her memories with her. It was strange at first, looking at photographs of herself of which she had no recollection. Soon, it became second nature. She found herself guessing at the story behind the photos before Draco could tell her.

She made the mistake of voicing that to him once and he spent the entire time making her guess before he would reveal the truth. Trying to spark something.

It never did.

She resigned herself to the secondhand memories.

Two weeks went by in their fragile little world and she was comfortable. Happy even.

Ronald hadn't been by to see her since and though Harry assured her that he was fine, just out on assignment, she could see the tightness behind his eyes. She didn't press.

It wasn't until the fifteenth day that things changed.

Narcissa had left the manor to visit her sister and though she would never admit it, Hermione had been counting the hours down until Draco's return. Dinner had come and passed however, and he still hadn't returned. Hermione continued on, reading several bed time stories and tucking Leo in three times before it was to his liking before she finally was able to slip away. She quickly found herself in her pyjamas in front of the fireplace in the library, her book sitting untouched on her lap as she watched the flames lick lazily at the logs and listened to the clock quietly tick from the corner of the room.

Minutes passed all too quickly and she found herself standing near the window on the far wall of the library as the skies opened up and rain began to hammer against the pane. Soon the quiet of the room was broken by the sound of the storm outside and she turned to look at the clock once more before she finally slipped away from the window and out of the library.

Her feet carried her numbly down the darkened halls of her home and it wasn't until she arrived at the heavy wooden doors of Draco's office that she realized where she had gone. She reached out to tentatively knock, hoping he would answer her and finding herself disappointed when he didn't.

She knew that his floo, however, was connected to the network however, and she breathed deeply only once before she pushed the door open and slipped inside.

She had been inside the room before, even after she had lost her memories, but seeing the dark wood of her husband's study in the dark of night seemed to stir something in her and of their own accord her feet carried her past the hearth to the bookshelves that lined the walls.

Her finger lazily trailed over the spines, reading the names of the books that sat there and she smiled to herself as she saw the cover of a familiar tome.

The weathered and worn copy of The Tales of Beetle the Bard slipped easily into her hands and she knew, as soon as her fingertips had graced the front cover that it was the very same copy that had been given to her so long ago and she steadied herself against the flood of memories she did have that seemed to be so fresh in her mind, despite the passing time, as she opened the front cover and began to read.

She groaned as she set the book down once more and looked back up to the clock. Hours had passed, painfully, as her heart hammered in her chest and her head ached continuously.

Her eyes darted to the floo, begging for it to roar to life, only to come up disappointed as it remained cold and still.

The book hadn't held her interest in some time and so she got up, leaving it behind, as she paced the floor and worried her thumbnail and tried to keep herself from stepping in the floo herself as the ticking of the clock drove her near insanity.

Just as she thought she couldn't stand it one moment longer, he appeared.

"Harry," she breathed, "Are you-"

The man looked down, to the blood on his shirt and shook his head, "It's not mine…"

Her heart thundered in her ears as her stomach sank, "Please, not-"

"Hermione-" Draco's voice was like pumpkin juice to a parched throat and she tore across the room at his entrance, ignoring the state of his clothes as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

She was vaguely aware of his arms holding her to him just as tight before she finally pulled back and looked up at the man before her. His eyes were drawn, with dark gray circles underneath and his hair looked like it was plastered to his forehead. She had never thought he looked beautiful before that moment but just then she had never seen a more welcome sight.

It was short lived however as she reached out and smacked his chest.

"You complete arsehole!" she shouted and she reached out again, smacking his chest once more, ignoring the pain in her palms. "I thought you were dead!"

"Hermione-" he said quietly but she wasn't listening as she pushed him once more, ignoring the hot prick of tears.

"How dare you do something so recklessand- and bloody stupid," she shouted.

"Hermione-"

"You could have died Draco! You could have- you might have-"she huffed as she turned, pointing at Harry, "and you let him!"

Harry held his hands up in surrender, taking three giant steps back as she advanced until his back hit the wall behind him.

"Hermione-" Draco's hand gripped her arm, pulling her back against him and she twisted away from him, meeting his gaze once more, "We did it."

"Hermione?" she blinked as her gaze shifted and she settled back into herself as she came face to face with Draco.

His hair was plastered to his head, his robes completely soaked through and she didn't care for one second as she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and she felt him slowly, carefully, pull her closer; his arms holding her just as tightly.

DRACO
Past

Draco leaned his head on his hands, rubbing his temples.

Nothing made sense.

Everything was wrong.

"No, no, no." Hermione said again, her lips pursed and her brow creased,"He wouldn't."

Draco fumed, his teeth clenching together so hard he thought they might break off," You don't know that."

She turned on him; her cheeks pinked and shook her head, her loose curls falling in her eyes. His mum had brought them tea when they had returned and Hermione had set to work on McGonagall and in no time at all had floo'd back to the manor with the large stone basin in tow and time off of work.

They had spent the better part of the night in the memories they had procured from the elf. Draco shuddered as he thought about watching his best friend die over and over. He didn't know which was currently in more pain, his head or his heart.

The memories had been clear for an elf- Hermione hadn't even been sure they would work the same, a fact she restated no less than seven times before he had finally just plunged headfirst into the basin before she could stop him.

It was the same; though the bruise on his arm would remind him that it might not have worked just in case the witch forgot to jog his memory about it.

He had arrived in the Zabini estate, right behind the elf as she followed her mother. The pair then left the room into the foyer where the hooded figure stood waiting. Pip, unseen, secreted behind a nearby table and Hermione and Draco had found themselves standing behind memory Pip as she huddled, hidden as the figure approached her mother.

The elf hadn't backed down as the figure tried to persuade her to turn on her master. She had stood tall and proud, for an elf, until the figure had finally stepped forward and drove the knife into the small body. Draco's eyes had found Pip then, eyes widened in horror as she covered her mouth and his jaw had clenched so tightly his teeth had cracked. If he hadn't wanted to find this person before, there was no doubt he did now.

It wasn't over though, the memory, and Draco had watched in abject horror as the front door had opened behind the figure and Blaise had walked in, unaware of the scene he was walking into. The cloaked figure had wheeled around, wand held aloft and had struck down his best friend and Draco hadn't breathed as Blaise's body had hit the floor.

He felt Hermione's hand in his then and he looked away to meet her deep brown eyes, full of hurt and anger and sympathy and for once, he didn't mind it.

She had stopped then, giving his hand a squeeze and he expected her to pull him from the memory but instead she stood, staring slack jawed at the cloaked figure.

"That watch-" she said, her voice barely above a whisper and Draco followed her line of sight to the watch on the man's wrist, barely covered by the robes the person wore, "I know that watch."

He turned then, grabbing her upper arms and forcing her to look at him, "How?"

"I- I gave it to Ron," she stammered, her eyes drifting back to the cloaked figure and he didn't wait a moment longer before he pulled them both out of the memory and back into his study.

A/N: :O
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