A Hundred Storms
Chapter Thirty-Four: The End of Fear

You're the only one I ever believed in
The answer that could never be found
The moment you decided to let love in
Now I'm banging on the door of an angel
The end of fear is where we begin
The moment we decided to let love in
- Let Love In, by the Goo Goo Dolls

Hermione felt comforted by the warm hand in hers that led her throughout the unfamiliar hallways and rooms. She hadn't had a chance to explore during her last visit. She hadn't a chance to do more than scream and bleed.

Hermione knew Malfoy Manor was huge, but it looked at though Narcissa went to great lengths herself to make sure the length from where the funeral reception was held was a great distance from the room Hermione still had nightmares about. Hermione wondered if it was to save face or perhaps Draco's mother was trying to be as courteous as possible. Narcissa was an impossible woman to read and Hermione felt she could drive herself crazy even attempting such a feat.

The corridors twisted and turned and they ascended two flights of stairs before Hermione noticed that Draco's pace slowed considerably. Hermione knew they were close and when Draco finally reluctantly stopped outside an ornate door she found herself trying to keep her hand from shaking too badly in his.

Instead of reaching for the doorknob Draco stopped and turned around to face Hermione.

"Again," Draco said in a voice so serious it made Hermione's heart ache. "Are you really sure? There's nothing for you in there."

"There's something in there," Hermione argued. "Closure, maybe? I want this chapter of my life behind me. I want to stop dreaming about it."

"Me, too," Draco agreed softly and turned the knob.

Draco entered the room first, as though to check for dangers left over from the long-dead monsters that continued to haunt them. The room was icy, as it had been many months since anyone set foot across the threshold.

With a wave of his wand Draco lit a fire and several dozen candles throughout the room came to life with a cheery glow. Hermione hadn't noticed before, but this space seemed to be built on an innermost wall in the Manor, she could not spot a single window.

Hermione shivered slightly in the cold and Draco immediately stepped up behind her to place a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly.

Hermione nodded and continued to take in her surroundings. The candlelight seemed to cast the room in a softer light than the last time. Hermione couldn't place the difference, or if there was any at all. The candles that burned now were probably the very same that watched her bleed into the expensive rug only months before.

It was then that Hermione noticed the rug she remembered was missing. She crossed the room, closer to the spot Bellatrix stood over her and held her down, cutting into her flesh. There was no longer an ornamental rug but a dark stain easily visible on the bare stone floor.

"Yours," Draco answered the unspoken question.

"Why didn't anyone clean it up?" Hermione asked softly, her eyes fixed on the blemish.

"We tried," Draco confessed. "This house though, there's blood magic. Older rooms protect these rooms, older than Hogwarts. Darker magic, at least. When Bellatrix cut into you in this room she unknowingly made you a part of our home. The dungeons below...they are separate of course. Up here, however..."

"I've become a part of your home," Hermione repeated his words quietly. "She invited me to stay forever, didn't she?"

"Yes," Draco answered honestly. "The wards of Malfoy Manor recognize you as a trusted member of the household now."

"The irony is not lost on me." Hermione said and looked away from the stain. She glanced around the room with a faraway look in her eyes. "I've been dreaming about this room for so long that I completely forgotten what it really looked like. It's really not a scary place, is it?"

"I don't remember," Draco said stiffly.

"Don't remember what?"

"I don't remember when this entire house was not a scary place," Draco looked down at Hermione and grimaced. "I still see that snake peering around corners, the sound of too many cloaks brushing against the floor."

"It's not so scary now," Hermione turned around once in a circle, taking in the entire room. "The scary things are dead. We're not. That's something, right?"

"That's something," Draco agreed. "Is it enough?"

Hermione looked over to the fire, a cheerful sight in a dismal room. Rows of books lined one wall while paintings decorated another. Once a chandelier hung above their heads, but that had come crashing down months prior. Sconces littered the walls and candelabra stood proudly on the floor. The room was not a scary place. It was proud, intimidating perhaps, but not nearly as frightening as Hermione remembered it. In another life Hermione would have thought the room rich in culture and history, she would have been enthralled. She would have dove head first into the dusty books on their shelves and only a troll or manticore would have been able to drag her away.

"This room is not a scary place," Hermione said more to herself than Draco. "This room truly is not a scary place."

"Do you think if you say it enough times it will become the truth?" Draco asked, again growing concerned for Hermione's mental well-being.

"It already is the truth," Hermione said out loud, making it so. "There's nothing in this room worth being scared of. Bellatrix is dead. Molly killed her. Again, the love of a mother..."

Draco waited for Hermione to finish her train of thought but the words never came. "Love of a mother?" Draco prodded.

"It all comes full circle, doesn't it?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Granger," Draco said slowly. "More often than not I'm fairly sure you're completely mental, you understand, right?"

Hermione actually smiled up at him. "Me, too, Malfoy. Me, too. On the bright side, I feel more mentally sound than I have in a long time. Does that count for something?"

"I feel like I should be more alarmed than I am," Draco replied. "Truly, Granger, are you feeling alright?"

"Never better," Hermione said gratefully. "This is wonderful. This is just a room, isn't it? Like a name. I was more fearful of the room than of the action itself."

"Granger..." Draco started uncertainly. "What happened here..."

"What happened here happened," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "The damage had been done. The damage seeped into my bones and I was convinced it was killing me, but oddly enough...it never did." Hermione then grew soft. "Sometimes I think I get so caught up in being lucky enough to survive that I forget I'm actually alive. If I lose that piece of myself then what good was any of it? She may as well have killed me. This room is not a scary place and my blood on the floor is nothing more than a visible memory. I want to read those books and I want to study those paintings. That's who I am. I have not lost myself. I thought I had."

Draco was silent for a beat. "You're truly alright?" He asked earnestly. "Because I don't see it the way you describe. "I still see you screaming and I still remember wishing the Dark Lord would not come and see that Potter was with you. Merlin, Hermione, if Bellatrix had called him the Dark Lord would have killed you."

"But she didn't!" Hermione let out a breath she felt she had held for a year. "He never came, we got away. We lost so much but we survived. Was it worth it? Was it enough? Seeing you like this and becoming your friend made everything worth it. It was, is enough."

Hermione scuffed her shoe at the ground where her own blood stained the floor. The dirt that should have passed over the mark didn't register over the apparent magic protecting it. She lost herself in the irony again for a moment and then looked up at her newest friend, her potential lover.

"I think I love you," she said almost drunken laugh. "I don't want you to return the favor now, but I wanted you to know in case I can't tell you again. "Thank you for this, this room was my Boggart and you helped me defeat it with firelight and logic."

Draco gaped for a moment at Hermione's words. Love was not a word that was tossed around in his world. His mother loved him. He assumed his father had loved him. Pansy told him she loved him countless times, both with and without Fire Whiskey. He thought she still might, perhaps not romantically but loved all the same. Is that what Hermione meant? Did Hermione love him as she claimed she did Weasley and Potter?

"I-"

Hermione's hand shot to Draco's mouth before he could get his words out. "Don't," she said harshly. "Don't feel obligated. I couldn't stand it. I just wanted you to know. I could never had faced this demon without you."

"You don't have to say anything," Draco finally said after a minute of stunned silence passed. "It was your idea, anyway."

Hermione's eyes wandered around the room, her mind was turning with impossible ideas. One finally clicked and she looked back up to meet Draco's grey eyes.

"I need to go see someone before we leave."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're not backing out, are you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Of course not. I just need to discuss something with someone."

"Why are you being so vague?" Draco demanded.

"I'm not trying to be," Hermione said. "Remember when I said there were stories, memories that I wanted to share with you, but they were not mine to share?"

Draco nodded. "Yes?"

"I want to get permission. I wouldn't feel right without it." Hermione looked around the room. "Do you by chance have a Pensieve laying around?"

Astonished at the question, Draco could only nod. "You're talking about Potter, aren't you?" Draco demanded. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Probably more than you realize," Hermione told him. "But I'd like you to know everything. I'm sorry I can't be more forthcoming now, but please know I want to be, that's why I need to talk to him."

"Alright," Draco said finally. "Meet me in the village?"

"Of course." Hermione agreed readily. "Outside the Shrieking Shack?"

"Appropriate," Draco smirked, however a bit forced.

Hermione stood up on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you for this," she told him solemnly. "I cannot believe I was holding this so close to my heart."

"You don't have to be such a Gryffindor," Draco said, still a bit fazed by Hermione's sweeping emotions. He was trying to keep up but found himself floundering. Draco did not like to flounder.

"I hate when you say that," Hermione said with displeasure. "Why does someone have to be Gryffindor or Slytherin or whatnot? It's a ridiculous notion that causes more strife between houses and people than it helps them."

"You're talking about a centuries old tradition of the very educational facility that you desperately wanted to return to," Draco reminded her. "You must not think that poorly of it."

Hermione flushed slightly. "I won't deny," she said with half a smile. "I love the idea of cultivating strengths within a community of common interest. The problem with cultivating strengths seems to be that no one bothers with weakness. No one bothers with exploring what makes us different and how to make that work for the students."

"Mad Muggle ideas," Draco murmured and bent down to kiss her. "What would you suggest, Granger?"

Hermione looked at Draco with disdain at first, believing him to be dismissing her ideals, but the last line caught her unawares.

"I would make sure there were more social interactions with students from the beginning," Hermione answered readily. She had thought upon this very topic often. "Before the sorting I would love to see first-years interacting with one another more than just on the train. I would make sure that classes were always combined with other houses. Also, we learn the basics of every house, but I think there's a lot of history that's missing from our education. Did you know Godric Griffindor and Salazar Slytherin were close friends? Of course Slytherin's preference for Pure-Bloods hindered that relationship but if they could be friends why are our houses so against one another? We need to know these things! Maybe it's because I'm Muggleborn, but I find these variables important."

Draco was silent for a moment, again taken aback by the waves of emotion that crashed into him from her. In the past few months Draco finally registered his own emotion more than he had in his entire life. Emotion had always been considered a weakness. Emotion was always something that was better left buried. Emotions could be manipulated. Somehow Hermione brought out his emotions and opinions and thoughts and she listened and reflected in a way that never left him feeling like less of a man or a person. Hermione made him feel alive.

"I want to continue this conversation," Draco reached out and held both her hands in his. "But if you want to meet Potter I would catch him now rather than later. Let me get dinner started and round up the Pensieve. I'll meet you in the village if you still want to come with me."

"Of course I do!" Hermione said with an indignant huff. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

"I would understand if you really didn't want to some away with me anymore," Draco said uncertainly.

Hermione smiled again, another reaction to this situation she did not realized she possessed. "Truly, I do not believe you need to convince me any further to spend a week in France."

Draco took this opportunity to snake his arm around Hermione's waist. His hand rested on her lower back and he smirked at her. "I would hope other things would convince you."

Hermione grinned up at him, registering how close her body was suddenly pressed against his. "There are many things," Hermione said, suddenly feeling shy. "I truly hope you stand by your promise of wine. It's going to take a lot more than this old room to scare me away, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's body tensed with an urgency that made him let go of his embrace quite sooner than he would have liked. He stood back and looked at the cause of so much animosity from his adolescence.

"The shrieking shack. Two hours?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"Two hours should be perfect," Hermione responded with a wide smile. "If I'm late please don't be upset, Harry can be a bit difficult. I'm sure you have no idea what that it like."

"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?" Draco demanded.

Hermione smirked and kissed him again. "No idea," Hermione said with a laugh. "No idea at all."

xxx

Fifteen minutes later Hermione found herself knocking at the door of the house she, Harry, and Ron had used as a safe house only a few months prior. Had it really been a year? Christmas was nearly upon them and Hermione couldn't even absorb the depth of change that had transpired since then.

Hermione hadn't knocked a second before Harry answered, swinging the door open in a way that reflected the carefree lifestyle he had welcomed since Voldemort became a thing of his past.

"Hermione!" Harry greeted her with a wide smile. "I wondered if I would see you tonight!" Harry stepped aside and beckoned her. You ought to know you don't need to ring the bell. This is your home, too. Come in, Come in."

Hermione entered the old house, grateful to be out of the cold. "This is your home, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "Popping in unannounced would be rude."

Harry kept grinning. "Maybe," he said. "But you know it is your house as long as you need it. I thought you might tonight."

Hermione looked at him. "Why is that?" She asked him.

Harry's grin faltered for a moment. "Well," Harry raked his hand through his hair. "I thought things might have gone poorly after the funeral. I didn't think you really wanted to miss all those classes, was Malfoy bullying again? I thought you might want to talk."

Hermione stared at her best friend and took a moment to absorb the love she felt radiating from him. She hated herself for her next questions, but what choice did she have? She could leave her relationship with Draco as it was or put in the effort to make it work. There was no middle ground.

"I have something I need to ask you," Hermione said reluctantly. "Please understand I do not ask lightly."

Harry's smile was gone by now. "Hermione," he said uncertainly. "You're starting to worry me."

"I seem to have that effect on men this evening," Hermione responded dryly.

"What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

Hermione gathered her courage. "I want to show him Snape's memories," she told Harry in a rush.

"What? Harry asked, completely bewildered. "Who's he? Malfoy? You want to what?"

"I find myself wanting to share more and more," Hermione said, continuing her rushed explanation. "But I think he needs, or, maybe he really does deserve to see those interactions, the absolute truth about Severus."

Harry drew a breath but Hermione continued before he could actually get a word in.

"Harry," Hermione pushed forward, "You did such a wonderful job about telling Severus's story, but I always thought you were right in keeping your memories to yourself. Draco has been through so much though, just like you and I, only under different circumstances. I think he may understand now what his mentor went through, what he fought for. Merlin it's what we all fought for, isn't it? I think it could really help him."

"Those are my memories," Harry replied softly. "My mother's memory."

"Don't you see the correlation?" Hermione felt as though she could cry. While she felt relief after visiting that room, the emotional weight was beginning to push down on her chest, she could feel it in her lungs. "Your mother was Muggleborn. Snape, while not Pureblood, was a Deatheater. I'm Muggleborn. Draco was groomed from birth to be the perfect little Pureblood, and then the perfect little Deatheater. But he wasn't the perfect Deatheater and neither was Severus. Draco still doesn't know Severus was the one Dumbledore was referring to up on the Astronomy Tower. Don't you think Draco deserves to know who Dumbledore saw when Draco pointed that wand at him?"

Harry was silent for a long time. Hermione shifted uncomfortably and went to speak once more. Harry shook his head and Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

"Alright," Harry said finally. "I understand, Hermione, I really do. I don't like it, but I understand."

"I feel like I'm hearing that a lot lately as well." Hermione said softly. "Why do I feel like I can't do anything without hurting someone I love?"

"You're not hurting me," Harry disagreed quickly. "Truly, Hermione, you're not. I hate to share the memories given to me, but I understand. I trust you, you've earned that tenfold. I would give you anything you asked."

"Well, within reason, I would hope," Hermione said with a trembling smile. "Don't get too carried away or I might take advantage."

"Hardly," Harry scoffed and led her to the sitting room they all once used as a bedroom. He beckoned her to take a seat on one of the new loveseats Harry had purchased for his home and went to a bookcase on the far side of the room. The shelving itself was unassuming, but Hermione knew this was where Harry kept many of his most prized possessions he could not bear to part with to Gringotts. It had been Hermione to enchant the bookshelf with books that only gave way if someone invited into the home by Harry were to try to pull one out. If someone tried to yank one of the books by force it would immediately vanish and relocate to another hidden location in the immense home Harry now called his.

Hermione watched as Harry pulled out a volume and extracted a vial from the hollowed-out hiding place. Ron had been baffled as to why anyone would cut out pages of a book to hide things, but Harry thought Hermione's idea was a brilliant mix of magic and Muggle stealth. It was the perfect blend of secrecy between the two worlds.

Hermione pretended she didn't notice Harry's hand shaking as Snape's had when he handed over the precious vial of memories. She took it gently from him and slipped it gently into a small bag mad of soft cotton.

"I won't disappoint you, Harry," she said softly.

"It's not you I'm worried about," Harry said honestly. "This can't be undone. I-I haven't even showed Ginny yet."

"Ginny loves you," Hermione said gently. "And she knows goodness and love. She grew up surrounded by it. You'll show her one day when you're ready to share something intimate with her."

"And this intimacy?" Harry asked quietly. "What do you hope to gain from this?"

"Clarity," Hermione said the first word that popped into her mind. "He showed me the room today, at my request."

It was a sign of how close Hermione and Harry had become that Harry didn't need her to specify, out of all the rooms in the world, which one she was referring to.

Harry's eyes grew wide. "Hermione, why would you do that to yourself?"

"Closure," Hermione told Harry the same thing she told Draco. "I needed it, and I feel better than I have in months. Harry, there was absolutely nothing scary about that room. That which I feared...well, the people...they're dead now. It's both wonderful and morbid but I can't help but feel a little more free."

"You're really alright?" Harry said in a voice tinged with anxiety. "I mean, ah..."

"Never better," Hermione grinned. "At least, not this sort of better. It's a better that holds the promise of actually getting better. You notice I didn't ward the door behind me when you invited me in?"

"That's because you already warded this entire house to the teeth," Harry said with a wry smile. "A mate from Auror training tried to come by the other day, I had to literally invite him in by name, like a vampire. That took a little explaining."

Hermione chuckled. "Good," she declared. "I'm glad the wards work as they ought to. At least you won't have trouble having him over again. Do I know him?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "He's from the States. Apparently our Auror training is the best in the world, there's many witches and wizards from all over that come to train with us."

Hermione took comfort in the level of pride Harry expressed in his words. She was glad he wasn't given a pass through training due to who he was, Harry never would have succeeded otherwise.

"I'm happy you're happy there," Hermione said. "I'm happy you're doing something so worthwhile."

"There's a lot of rouge wizards and witches still out there," Harry's demeanor quickly turned serious. "A lot of people never received the mark but still sympathized nonetheless. The Aurors who were around for the last war said we should be expecting trouble. People who were involved in this war have already decided to surface. They won't let us go after them yet, but they're close."

"Harry..." Hermione began.

"It's alright," Harry cut her off.

"I know," Hermione smiled. "This is what you were born to do, as long as you want to do it."

"What about you?" Harry asked her. "What do you want to do?"

"Graduate," Hermione said. "I really don't know what I want to do after that. It's nice to have the option to relax and decide once I finish Hogwarts. Granted, I do need to figure out what the Maliceptor is all about, but strangely enough that hasn't been at the forefront of my mind lately."

"Perhaps not that strange," Harry said with a grin. "You know you're welcome to stay here after Hogwarts to figure out your next move. You don't have to worry about that."

"Thank you," Hermione said from the bottom of her troubled heart.

"Hermione," Harry shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, and I mean it. People thank me every day but most of them have no idea what they're thanking me for. Honestly, I should thank you, a thousand times over again. Ron was the one who said that we would never make it a day without you. He was right. He's still right. People see me as this icon, The Boy Who Lived, but they don't understand the cost. They don't understand the price we all paid."

"Some do," Hermione said softly. "Those are the ones that deserve our support, to know they have a place to turn to."

"Could you be any more transparent?" Harry asked with a grin. "I really do understand, Hermione. I'll help you however I can. I'm in your corner."

Hermione stood from her sitting position and wrapped Harry in a fierce hug.

"I love you, you know that right?" Hermione asked as she released him.

In a display of uncharacteristic physical affection, Harry gently kissed Hermione's forehead. "I didn't know love until I met you and Ron. We're the lucky ones."

"You're a great wizard, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"Books and cleverness, friendship and bravery," Harry's eyes indicated he was in another time and place. "Look how far we've come, Hermione."

"The best is yet to come," Hermione smiled up at him. "I mean it." I will return these memories to you as soon as we get back."

"Off you go then," Harry said with a shaky grin. I can't believe I'm saying this but...Malfoy's waiting for you. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Drink a ton of expensive wine. Merlin know's you've earned a vacation."

A smile broke across Hermione's face. "You're wonderful, Harry," she told him. "Thank you, thank you for everything."

(A/N) First things first, Harry's comment about lucky ones was inspired by RENT, "it was us, baby, we were the lucky ones." I hope to play on that more in the future. This was a wonderful and agonizing chapter to write. I cried in some places and had to stop because..well, you guys all know how we feel about these characters. I love Harry and Hermione, obviously I love Draco and Hermione. I care about them regardless of if they're fictional or not. We're past pure angst now but not quite to the fluff, so to pull this memory in is going to be fun to write. I have been working on this chapter much longer than I intended, but I'm happy with this chapter and where it is going. The next chapter (and possibly the next couple or more) is going to be D/Hr all the time (my favorite!). I'm also laying the ground for a possible sequel, did you see? I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter yet, I truly hope it was worth the wait. let me know what you think! Thank you for sticking with me, I know it's annoying to wait so long. Wer're getting there, slowly but surely.