Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

Whooooah! You guys win! I'm always amazed at how many of you there are when everyone comes out to comment. Fucking awesome. Here's the chapter, as promised. Now... I should tell you... This is the second last chapter. That means tomorrow is our last day together (cue my melodramatic sobbing). Seriously, I'm super flattered at the response to this story. Your enthusiasm makes me want to keep writing, and I've already got another one in mind. Let's see if it survives (I only publish one in about six stories that I write because I'm a liiiiitle critical). Hope you like this chap, and hope you're ready for tomorrow! Dun-dun-dunnnnn. xo Galfoy (Oh, ahem, please review?)

Hermione landed with a stumble in a bumpy field, the sharp grass pinching her clothes as she staggered for balance. Flustered and scared, with the portkey squeezed tightly in her fist, she looked around.

Where was she?

"We're a couple fields down from the Burrow," said Ron. Hermione whipped around to see him standing several feet away, shifting awkwardly from one leg to the other. There was no malice in his eyes. He gave her a sheepish smile.

"So… The portkey worked? And Malfoy didn't manage to tag along? Not bad for a hasty plan."

Hermione stared at him. In some ways, Ron had changed almost unrecognizably since their school days: aspects of his personality, for example, or the way he had filled out to look like a full-grown man besides all evidence to the contrary. In other ways, he was exactly the same. Exactly. One thing that would never change was Ron's inability to think a plan through to the end. This was a case in point, and this was also going to have quite an end. She sucked in an angry breath, not trusting herself to speak.

"Hey, your hair is striped," he said, smiling nervously now under her intense glare. "Bit of a weird style for you, don't you think, 'Mione?"

She continued to stare at him, her fists opening and closing, her arms shaking. Something was happening to her. She felt a rolling, boiling fury building up inside her chest. A growl fought its way up her throat and she pushed it down.

She twitched from the effort.

He cleared his throat, unsure what to make of her silence. "You look beautiful, of course."

Her eyes narrowed. The growl escaped.

His eyes widened.

"Uh, listen, I know the portkey was a bit abrupt, but I just really had to see you. I was sent this package last night. Well, this vial, actually, with this letter... And uh..."

Her gaze didn't waver. Ron was starting to lose his nerve, but stuttered onward.

"What I mean to say is, I… I had thought all these years that Lucius Malfoy had killed Ginny, but it turns out it was Rodolphus. He was feeding me a potion, too. Mal – "

"Malectio," she finished, her voice cold.

"Right, right," he rushed, hearing the anger in her voice. "So all that bad stuff I did… It wasn't really me, 'Mione. To Malfoy, to you, to just about everyone, I guess. It wasn't really me."

"Wasn't really you," she repeated.

"Yeah," he said, looking encouraged. "Don't you see what this means? I'm back to normal. We can be together. You don't need to punish me by being with Malfoy."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. He promptly misunderstood.

"Oh, I know all about you two," he said, casually. "I've been following Blaise around a bit; eavesdropping to get updates, since I couldn't actually get close to you. At first I thought it was just a way to make me jealous, but I guess you think you actually like the bloke. 'Mione, you don't need to bother anymore. I broke it off with Stacey. Not even really sure how that happened to begin with, honestly, but it doesn't matter… We can get back together. Like before."

"Like before," she echoed, feeling her voice teetering on the edge of what was about to become a shrill scream.

He blinked nervously. "You keep saying what I'm saying," he said, dumbly.

"Ron," she said, fighting to keep calm long enough to express her condolences. "I'm glad you found out the truth about Ginny. Really. I know it was hard for you to manage your grief over the years. I'm happy you can put that pain to rest."

He smiled, his shoulders relaxing.

"I'm also sorry to hear you've been a victim of Rodolphus's this whole time. I'll be very curious to hear all the details at a later date."

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"HOWEVER."

He swallowed heavily.

"We are not, ever, getting back together. And how fucking DARE you bring me here without my express consent. Are you out of your mind? You couldn't let me choose to come here on my own? Do you really think that makes a good case for your judgement? All you've done is prove that I've made the right decision."

"But – "

"Let me tell you something about Malectio potion, Ronald. It behaves like a voice in your head, always taunting you to act on your bad ideas, yes?"

Ron nodded, anxiously.

"But you still have to have those ideas in the first place," she whispered, her fury simmering under her words. "You understand what I'm getting at?"

"Well, it's not like I – "

"Stop. You will not back-peddle out of this, Ronald Weasley. You will shut up and listen to what I have to say. With or without that potion, you were an absent partner. An absolute shite partner, in fact. I may have put all my energy into hiding my addiction, but you didn't even have an inkling anything was wrong."

"But – "

"I have been struggling with the grief of losing my parents since the War, and you have been too busy brooding and plotting to talk to me about it."

"But – "

"You have ogled other women for years – the potion just helped things along. Your heart was far from faithful."

"But – "

"I have been trying, and failing, to hold it together, all the while feeling that I couldn't even confide in the person I was supposed to marry. You took me for granted so wholeheartedly that you weren't even trying anymore. I didn't get any support from you. No attention. No affection."

"But – "

"You know who gives me all those things? Who notices the second something is wrong? Who can tell when I'm lying? Who cares to check in on me? Who ignores other romantic prospects no matter how willingly they offer themselves up? Draco Malfoy. He is rude, he's abrasive, and he is so in love with me he is probably tearing up London right now to find me. You'd better hope he finds me, and not you, because I swear to God he will make good on his last promise to you, Ron Weasley."

Ron snapped his mouth shut. This wasn't going how he planned it at all. She was defending Draco. She was rejecting his offer. And something else was wrong, too. Other than the uncharacteristic verbal lashing he was getting, Hermione's hair was changing right before his eyes.

It was slowly turning platinum.

What. The. Fuck.

"'Mione – "

"SHUT IT!" she screamed, throwing the ring on the ground. Another one of her brown locks shimmered and turned white. "You know what else is amazing? I love him too. Isn't that ridiculous? I've been scared out of my wits coming to terms with it, but I am completely in love with him. His parents probably detest me, but I'm in love with him. He hates everyone and everything, but I'm in love with him. The future I wanted to control so badly is in his hands whether or not I want it, and I'm starting not to care. Maybe it's good that I've got one absolute. One, beautiful absolute. I mean, God knows what happens when I make decisions these days. I'm a fucking mess, but if there is one damn thing I'm sure of, it's that I have never loved anyone like this, and I never will again."

Ron's mouth dropped open. Eighty percent of her hair was white, and she hadn't even noticed. She was too busy being hysterical.

"I'm done pretending to be strong," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm fucked up, okay? Hiding it has only made me more fucked up. I can't cope with anything anymore, but you know what? I'll find a way through. I've got someone I can count on now. You'll always be special to me, but you left me out to dry for years while I dug myself into a hole trying to keep you up. I can't spend my life with someone like that. It's not just the potion or the grief, Ron. We don't work together."

She started to cry then, messy, hacked sobs into her hands, and Ron's face crumpled with the reality of his situation. There was nothing he could say to convince her. She would never be his again.

She actually loved the tosser. Like, love love.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoarsely. "I guess… I guess I hadn't thought of it that way."

Hermione didn't answer, and continued to cry, crouching down on the ground and rocking back and forth, tears dripping off her chin. Ron felt horribly guilty all of a sudden, realizing how badly he had misread the situation. She was right. He was completely out of touch with what she wanted… What she needed.

She didn't need him.

He'd made her that way, too. Too little, too late. She had become scared to depend on people out of necessity. It was almost fitting that she had fallen for Malfoy, another person who hated to rely on others. They were perfectly suited. They could rely on each other, if no one else.

Ron knew he had lost. There was no point in making anything worse.

"If it helps, his parents don't detest you," Ron said, softly.

Hermione hiccupped, and looked up at him through watery eyes.

"They're the ones who sent me the information about Rodolphus. They said they wanted to do the right thing."

"Wh-what?"

Ron nodded. "And in the note, Narcissa had added a line that said Lucius had gone searching for your parents, and he found them, 'Mione. Rodolphus was behind that too. She said they were coming back, that he fixed their memories. She had scribbled it at the bottom, but I think she wanted me to know they were going to take good care of you. She wanted to prove they could make the right choices. That they had changed."

"She wrote that?" Hermione said. "Lucius found my parents? But... But I don't understand!"

"He was gone all week looking for them, apparently. Got a tip from Rodolphus and then left. I'm not sure how you managed to charm a bloke like Lucius Malfoy, Hermione, but I think it's a good sign. What Malfoy in their right mind would go on a mission like that unless they were serious about you? Like you said... They hate everyone. That's quite a vote of confidence."

He smiled at her. She looked too shocked to smile back.

"I can't pretend to like Draco," he continued. "I won't. He's a fucking tosser. But if he appreciates you the way you say, and his family has gone to such lengths to make you happy, I suppose I'm in no position to complain. They've got a better track record than me right now, and they fucking tortured you."

Hermione let out a combination of a laugh and a sob.

"There," Ron smiled. "That's better. It's good to hear you laugh again. It's been a long time."

He shuffled his feet some more and then looked back over his shoulder towards the Burrow.

"Listen… I'm going to go. I've screwed things up enough for one day, and I guess I've got some thinking to do."

She nodded, numbly.

"I'm also going to send an owl to Harry. I want to tell him about Ginny. She died protecting Neville, you know. Gryffindor right to the end. Maybe someday he'll even want to be in the same room as me again."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I'm sure he would love to hear from you," she said. "To hear about Ginny. He's been suffering too."

"I know," Ron said. "I've been an all-around failure since the War. Friend, boyfriend, whatever."

"We've all had our problems," she replied. "None of us are perfect."

Ron smiled at her, and then his smile faltered as her hair started to shimmer. It was turning brown again. The more she calmed down, the more it went back to normal, minus those stubborn streaks. He blinked.

"Something wrong?" she asked. "You just got a funny look on your face."

"No," he coughed. "Nothing wrong. Just… Yeah. No. Nothing. Um, I think you'll do well with the Malfoys. Just a hunch."

"Thanks, Ron," she said. "I think you might be right."

With an awkward wave, he disapparated.

Hermione sighed, wiping her face with her sleeve. Ron had actually understood. She was surprised, but relieved too. Relieved she didn't have to keep dredging up the past to make him get it. Relieved she didn't have to stun him to get out of there. Now she was emotionally exhausted and could probably curl up right here for a nap, but she knew Draco was frantically looking for her. It would be irresponsible to keep him worried any longer than necessary.

Something glinted on the ground in front of her.

It was the ring.

She stood up and straightened her shoulders, still looking at the small gold circle, shining in the sun.

Fuck it. He could come back and get it himself if he wanted it.

"Goodbye, former life," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'd say it's been a pleasure, but that would be a goddamn lie." She disapparated on the spot.

Hermione walked through her front door and looked around.

Draco wasn't there, but that was hardly a shock. He was probably losing his mind with worry somewhere. She would go to the Manor... Narcissa would know what to do. And maybe Lucius would be there too. She had so many questions for him, but she didn't know where to start. Part of her had trouble believing that the cold, callous man she knew had done something so out of character, but then again, Ron had nothing left to lie about.

Maybe Lucius really did find her parents.

Maybe it was true.

The thought of seeing her parents again made her heart swell. She had given up many times over. To be given hope like this was a terrifying, incredible feeling. After all these years, all this mourning, they might actually be okay. Even stranger? She might have Lucius to thank.

Amazing.

Her wand was on the counter, left there when the portkey had stolen her away. With a relieved sigh, she quickly walked over to grab it, but in picking it up, managed to knock over the pile of mail she had sorted earlier.

"Oh bollocks," she said, kneeling down to clean up the mess. She didn't have time for this. Merlin knew what Draco was doing. She needed to find him, and fast.

Bills, bills, bills... Prophet. Hermione froze. The newspaper had unraveled in the fall, and her own face looked out at her from the front page.

She read the headline.

Her vision swam.

Her stomach lurched.

She vomited all over the floor.

Draco was storming through the Leaky Cauldron with Harry when he felt it. A strong tug in his chest. A strange urgency.

"Harry..." he said slowly, coming to a stop.

Harry turned around, surprised to hear Draco using his first name, and even more surprised to see him clutching his chest.

"You okay mate? Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?" he asked, worried.

"No," Draco gasped. "I just... I have this funny feeling..." He winced.

Harry frowned. "Like cardiac arrest? Looks like cardiac arrest. Let's get you to a Healer. You're looking paler than usual, and that's a real feat."

"No, I mean I have a feeling from Hermione. Or about Hermione. I can't explain it, but I think I know where she is."

"Does this feeling tell you if she's okay?" Harry asked, cautiously.

"Not sure. I have to go. I'm going to go alone, if that's okay with you."

"Of course," Harry said. "Just let me know if anything's wrong. I'll stay here for half an hour so you'll know where to find me."

"Definitely," Draco said, wincing again as the feeling in his chest intensified. "Thanks for everything, by the way."

"That's what friends are for," Harry replied with a smirk, knowing it would annoy Draco.

Draco glared at him, but then his expression softened. "Yeah, maybe that's true."

"Of course it's true, you cynic. Now off you go."

With a nod, Draco ran out of the pub. A loud CRACK echoed against the walls as he disapparated.

Harry sat down, looking at the door for a while, wondering if Draco's weird intuition was the real thing. Hopefully it was. Hopefully Hermione was safe, and they could finally get a break for once. Harry had never seen more bad luck befall two people in such a short amount of time. Even worse, they were both his friends.

He'd been thinking a lot about his friends, lately. Wondering if maybe it was time to move back to London. Draco and Hermione couldn't seem to keep themselves out of trouble. Maybe he could help them - keep an eye out or something. Blaise had never resurfaced for air after disappearing with Pansy, but when he did, he might want someone to grab a pint with. Harry loved the farm, but chickens weren't very good company, as it turned out. He longed for something a little more. Something like what he had in school.

"Mister Potter?" said Tom. Harry looked over to see the barman holding an envelope.

"Letter for you," he said, handing over the note. "Just arrived." Harry frowned and took the letter, noting the messy scrawl on the outside. He knew the owner of the handwriting very well. Or at least, he used to. Ron hadn't written to him in quite some time. He debated with himself briefly before he decided he had nothing to lose.

Opening the envelope carefully, Harry began to read.

"Tom?" he said after a few minutes as he felt his chest tighten. "I'm going to need a Firewhiskey, if you don't mind."