A/N: bit of a shorter one today! Sorry it's taken me a few days to update. In this chapter there are references to a book I studied at sixth form called The God of Small Things. It truly is a beautiful book and I would recommend it if you haven't read it. I also have just realised I've never put in a disclaimer so oops sorry obviously I'm not J.K Rowling and these characters are not mine.

A few days later Hermione was re-examining the list she had made about Draco in her journal adding a number of new things to it. The orchid Draco had bought for her was sitting on her bedside table. It hadn't wilted yet but she was certain that one day soon it would, or at least it should, otherwise that would be going on the list too.

She thought about a small part of his childhood that he'd spoken about – the girl punching him in the face. Well, she had dreamt that hadn't she? She'd known about it before he'd even brought it up. What did that mean? Was she a psychic?

Hermione snorted to herself. No of course she wasn't. Divination was a load of rubbish. It was just a huge coincidence, obviously. Billions of people lived on planet Earth, of course people would dream scenario's similar to ones that had happened in real life.

She tapped her pen against her book and thought more about the gang he'd briefly spoken about. It had sounded so much more serious than she had expected. His parents had been involved and all his closest friends and their families. Gangs weren't usually that big were they? Hermione rubbed her fingers against her forehead, trying to rid herself of her headache. None of this made sense. What was Draco even doing here? He'd say he'd had to come for work, but what did he even do? Hermione resolved to ask him that the next time she saw him. He'd popped into the shop a few times over the last few days to debate on the topics and themes seen in 'The God of Small Things.' He couldn't get over the fact the two main characters were both siblings and, to some extent, in a relationship. She had complained that he had approached the book completely wrong and tried to get him to re-read it in which he and responded it had made him feel uncomfortable. She wasn't surprised, there were a lot of unpleasant moments in the book, but so many one important ones.

Tomorrow. The idea of hope. That was why Hermione loved it so much. There was always the hope of a better tomorrow. Even the idea of a tomorrow. A second chance. No matter what your today is like. Draco had groaned about re-reading it but Hermione had insisted.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night they spent at his hotel. She could clearly remember coming back and showering but then the rest was slightly hazy. She was sure she could remember another boy showing up. He had been so familiar. Her stomach clenched tightly, pulling and tugging in protest of her wayward thoughts. Hermione wrote about him - Harry - on the list regardless along with the strange sticks of wood she could remember that had vivid jets of lights shooting from them.

The more Hermione racked her brain for information the more things didn't add up and so she endeavoured to do the thing she loved best. Research.

At the book store Hermione stacked her latest pile of books. Lisa was singing a power ballad and could be heard throughout the shop. Hermione smiled and shook her head at her friend's untuneful voice but acknowledged that she couldn't do any better either. She was secretly using her stacking duties as a cover up for what she was really doing. She didn't want to bother Lisa or have her ask too many questions, but then Hermione wasn't even sure where to begin. Maybe she could look up famous gangs and see if Draco's family were on there? She ran her fingers along the shelf and finally pulled a book out from its place, dusting it off before setting it down on a nearby desk. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see if Lisa was nearby and then ripped the book open, eagerly searching through the M section.

After a few moments she huffed and glared at the page in annoyance. Nothing. There was no mention of a Malfoy family who were in any sort of gang war in the UK. It wasn't exactly a normal last name either, so she was sure she would have spotted it. Hermione read through the pages a few times though, just to make sure.

She heard a clearing of the throat over her shoulder and a masculine voice next to her ear asking, "What are you looking at?"

Hermione turned her face to look at Draco who was frowning at the page she was reading, "Oh you know, just researching," She brushed it off and leaned in, kissing his cheek.

"Researching the M section of gangs. Has this got anything to do with what I've told you?"

Hermione nodded, deciding she might as well be honest, "I have a list at home of all the strange things you've said and done. It doesn't add up. Of course I'm giving myself the job of finding out everything I can… unless you'd like to tell me more?"

Draco moved away from her, running his fingers through his hair. She could tell by his facial expression that he was stressed. His eyes were wide, filled with alarm. She narrowed her eyes. Yes, he was definitely hiding something.

"Hermione I… look not yet, okay?"

"I'll figure it out myself Draco, regardless of whether you tell me or not. Over these past few weeks I've really grown to care about you but you've said things sometimes that don't make sense to me. Or, maybe they do. I feel like they're familiar but regardless I will figure this all out. You can either tell me now or wait for me to work it out but I will warn you now it won't be pretty if I find out you've been hiding something important from me."

Draco gave her a weak smile and sharp nod in response before holding up the book she'd last given to him, "I re-read it." He explained, pulling out another chair and sitting next to her. She closed the book on gangs and pushed it to the side, giving him her full attention. "I think, as much as it kills me to say this, you were right when I said I'd gotten the wrong impression. While I do not condone incest, I think I understand that sometimes you go through so much with someone and it does cause your souls to entwine in a sense."

Hermione nodded eagerly, "I think it's beautiful, and tragic. Estha and Rahel go through so much, as does their whole family really, and all of them feel such immense guilt and shame for the things they've done. They're all concerned about who they are and what their purpose is. Why they even exist. They're all filled with such fear, but at the same time they're all filled with such love. This book, as cheesy as it sounds, it got me through a lot." Hermione trailed off frowning, desperately trying to recall what she was so distraught about at the time until another door slammed in her face. Draco's voice brought her back to present.

"I agree. There were some parts that really resonated with me. I highlighted them." He murmured, and pushed the book in front of her.

Hermione gave him an odd look and flicked through the book, stopping when she saw the harsh yellow lines. The quotes he had highlighted sent her mind into overdrive even more.

'"It's a terrible thing to take a person's life," Baby Kochamma said. "It's the worst thing that anyone can ever do. Even God doesn't forgive that. You know that, don't you?" Two heads nodded twice. "And yet" – she looked sadly at them – "you did it." She looked them in the eye. "You are murderers." She waited for this to sink in.'

'But worst of all, Estha carried inside him the memory of a young man with an old man's mouth. The memory of a swollen face and a smashed, upside-down smile. Of a spreading pool of clear liquid with a bare bulb reflected in it. Of a bloodshot eye that had opened, wandered, and then fixed its gaze on him. Estha. And what had Estha done? He looked into that beloved face and said: Yes.'

'Frightened eyes and a fountain looked back at Ammu."D'you know what happens when you hurt people?" Ammu said. "When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less."'

He'd re-read it and this was all he had gotten from it? Guilt and shame? She shook her head, analysing them once more. Had Draco killed? Was he seeking redemption from the things he had done when he was in this gang. Had he – like Estha – said yes to something and now desperately wished he had said no?

Had he killed? Could she overlook that? It sounded like he had. Oh God. I'm dating a murderer. Hermione tried to keep her facial expression blank but on the inside she was reeling. Murder was wrong. Regardless of who you were killing. It was wrong. No one should ever take the life of another human being.

She suddenly had a vision of a young girl in front of her. A frizzy haired ginger girl who was the same age as her.

Susan Bones.

Hermione could feel her eyes welling up with tears as she suddenly recalled hurtling a curse at the girl thinking she was a death eater. For some ridiculous reason Susan had decided to wear a long black robe with the hood draped across her face. She was unrecognisable, especially from behind. Hermione was disorientated. She was surrounded by hooded figures. She snapped. She lashed out.

And an innocent girl had suffered because of it.

She saw fingers snapping in front of her face, "Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from the corner of the table and into his eyes. Draco's brows were furrowed and she could see his concern for her littering his pupils. She gave him a weak smile and told him to wait where he was as she travelled to the desk to grab a highlighter. Returning to the desk she picked up the book and highlighted a few of her favourite quotes, before passing it back to him. He looked at her cautiously, still waiting for her reaction about his highlighted sections.

"Draco. I really like you. I don't care what you've done in the past. I just want to know you better. Don't re-read the book again, but have a look at the quotes I've highlighted. As human beings we tend to replay the past over and over in our heads. It's essentially the pinnacle of our existence. The way we feel about things today is because of something that has shaped our past, but what's done is done. We can't change it. We can only torture ourselves with the fact that those things happened. Draco, whatever has happened, I won't judge you for it. It won't change how I feel."

He gazed at her bewildered and eagerly accepted the soft kiss that passed from her lips to his. Draco still couldn't really believe that Hermione was giving him the time of day but deep down he knew that if she could remember him she wouldn't. He was torn. He wanted to restore her memories but he also wanted her. As she was now. In this moment. However, was she really herself if she couldn't remember her past? Draco frowned into the kiss. He certainly wouldn't want to remember his past if he conveniently lost it.

Something in Draco's mind clicked suddenly. He could do that. He could cast a memory charm on himself. He could take away those horrible memories and just stay here as a muggle with Hermione. No one would know. No one would come looking. Just him and Hermione in Australia together. Maybe they could get a dog. He could just imagine the normal-ness of it all. The two of them curled up in front of the television, Boo snoring on Hermione's lap, a dog sitting alert by Draco's side. They could have their own little family in their own little world. No one would have to know that he'd obliviated himself to be with her, not even himself.

But could he live with that? Could he stay with this Hermione knowing she had no clue about who he really was? No, he probably couldn't.

And of course people would come looking. His family would want to find him due to him being the sole heir of the Malfoy line, and her friends would stop at nothing until she was returned to them.

In fact, now Draco thought about it, it was a stupid idea. He almost wanted to hit himself for believing it could work - even if he only believed for a few moments.

She broke the kiss and gave him a small smile, brushing her fingers against his cheeks, "I know you'll tell me soon Draco. I know you'll explain all of this. And I can't wait to know all of you."

Draco only hoped that she would be happy to know all of him, despite knowing that she would be anything but.

When he arrived back to his hotel he flicked through the book again, searching for the lines of pink that Hermione had highlighted her favourite lines in. He had read them once, then twice, then a third and over and over again, the words sinking into his skin and bursting a new blood through his veins. Blood he finally felt he deserved. A life he finally felt was worth living. All because of a girl that was finally giving him the chance to prove that he was not the monster he had deemed himself. His eyes filled with moisture as he read the lines again until they were almost embedded into his brain.

'Perhaps it's true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house-the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture-must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstitutred. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.'

'The only dream worth having is to dream that you will live while you are alive, and die only when you are dead. To love, to be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of the life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.'

And then, Hermione had highlighted one more word. Simply, 'Tomorrow.'

Draco had stared at it in awe and knew that if he were ever to be redeemed that it was in this moment he finally felt worthy of it.