Hermione cocooned herself in the swing. Her legs were bent as she held her knees to her chest and rested her chin upon them. Although her eyes were closed, she knew the sun was coming up; the soft morning heat was illuminating her face, and she was beginning to see red replacing darkness from behind her eyelids. A soft breeze swept through her open window and cascaded itself against her. Shivering, she finally opened her eyes.

She didn't wake up, though, for she never slept that night. It was another long and restless night of waiting. Waiting for a certain ghostly stag and dog but also a certain very much alive snowy owl. But again, the animals did not arrive. Hermione was almost used to the disappointment, but that didn't stop the waves of distress that came every morning with the sunrise. It was another twenty-four hours without hearing from her two best friends. Another twenty-four hours of not knowing. Possibly, another twenty-four hours of whatever life-threatening danger Harry and Ron were in.

The familiar churning came once again into Hermione's stomach, and she was panic-stricken. She looked around to find a distraction and her eyes fell upon her copy of The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald beside her on the hammock. The paperback book had creases in its spine from Hermione clutching the book open with an iron grip and flipping through the pages furiously. She had read through it entirely the night before as a means to divert her attention and ease her anxiety. She had also dog-tagged the pages of A New Leaf. Hermione had reread through the short story a number of times from her time in the swing and, for a reason she could not give, she kept picturing herself as Julia and Aiden as Dick.

She blushed and scolded herself every time she did it, horrified at the thought of Aiden finding out, but she did it anyway. It was probably because of the row they had in the library. Hermione was surprised at how she argued with him, fervently fighting for Julia's love for Dick. She believed that she should've stayed with him. He was the one she truly loved anyway, and he was slowly redeeming himself. True, their relationship would have their ups and downs. The future was secure with Phil, and that was something that Dick would lack. Julia might have gotten hurt many more times if she stayed with him. Hermione could see why Aiden preferred Julia to stay with Phil, but she was angry that he refused to see the actual love she had for Dick, despite his past. Aiden likely thought that Dick didn't deserve Julia.

And in that moment, it hit her like a stunning spell... maybe Aiden thought this way because he also thought he, himself, didn't deserve the kind of love Julia had for Dick. Maybe he thought of himself as unredeemable; a lost cause. And Hermione thought that this was rubbish. She knew that Aiden had acquired redemption. He had left the Death Eaters and started to work for the Dumbledore. Plus, he gave up his life to protect Hermione. He was, however, quite rude and presumptuous when she first met him. She rolled her eyes at the memories of the lavish and soulless gifts he gave her. But then she remembered his last gifts: the Butterbeer, Pride and Prejudice, and the library. It was apparent that he actually cared about her. His once rough attitude had grown soft and thoughtful.

Hermione wondered if she had anything to do with this change, but she already knew the answer. Of course she had something to with it... she had everything to do with it. And now looking at it, Hermione wondered if he was changing her too? She recalled what she had said about Julia and Dick: He changes her too. He challenges her, surprises her, makes her question her life and beliefs. He is either the best thing for her or the worst. She stared down at her book. She thought about the ways Aiden could have been changing her, and whether they were for the best or for the worst when an unfamiliar hoot came from the window.

She looked up and saw a barn owl that she had never seen before. It was holding a letter in its beak, and Hermione was hesitant to take it. She then turned around and saw a Jack Russell Terrier and stag lying down together on the rug. She let out a cry of relief. Hermione had somehow missed the patronuses flying through the window when she was lost in thought about Aiden.

Hermione immediately snatched the letter, noticing for a split second the St. Mungo's seal. She gasped slightly, worrying that they were hurt, and then ripped the envelope open. She held her breath as she read the letter, which was in Harry's writing.

Dear Hermione,

I'm using a St. Mungo's owl since we are stuck here for awhile. Everyone is fine, but I need to tell you right now that your parents were attacked. They are alive and are being tended to right now, but you must know that they were put under the Cruciatus curse and other Dark offensive spells.

I did not want to hide this from you and I've decided to tell you everything exactly how it happened. They suffered much, and they were coming in and out of consciousness when Ron and I brought them here. They are right now at top priority here and are in good hands.

The Death Eaters we were tailing found them in their home and were holding them hostage until we arrived. They assumed that they would get your location from your parents, but they did not know. When we arrived, one of them attempted Legilimency to try to pry the information out of my mind. When that didn't work, they threatened to kill your parents if I didn't give them your location.

We were able to take them down and then bring your parents to St. Mungo's. Members of the Order arrived on the scene, but unfortunately, so did the Daily Prophet. No one from the Order gave a comment and they took all of the Death Eaters involved into custody at the Ministry and soon Azkaban. But one of the Muggle witnesses must have given an account of what happened to a Daily Prophet reporter disguised as a Muggle reporter before they were Obliviated. Reporters have arrived at St. Mungo's, hoping to talk to your parents or one of us. They even meant to talk to you, obviously expecting you to be here. No one gave a single comment, but they are still here awaiting your arrival.

I've written Dumbledore and he is allowing you to leave Grimmauld Place and come to St. Mungo's. I will also owl Aiden to let him know of the situation. Pack a small bag depending on how long you'll stay, and I will come get you tonight. I know you can Apparate here on your own but its Dumbledore's orders that I accompany you.

Will see you soon.

Love, Harry.

The letter descended to the ground as Hermione's hands and the rest of her body went limp. A sickening burn was growing in her chest which eventually made its way up her throat. She then slapped her hands to her mouth, her eyes shut, and muffled her screams.

Draco stared at the empty chair next to him. His plate was empty and platters of biscuits, sausage, and hashbrowns in the middle of the table were waiting to occupy it. But Draco refused to eat before Hermione arrived.

"Go on Draco," Isabella encouraged as she buttered up her biscuit. "She's probably sleeping in today."

"She never does that," Draco grunted, still staring at the chair.

William added, "There's a first for everything."

"No. There's something wrong." The pale boy stood up. "I'm going to check on her."

But before he could sprint out of the kitchen, a barn owl swooped into the kitchen and dropped a letter on the kitchen table.

Draco picked it up and examined the envelope. It was addressed to him. But from who? He looked closer and his pulse became ten times faster as he saw that it was from Harry Potter at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Hermione was in the same position for two hours, weeping into her hands as her eyes became increasingly puffy and red. Tears had left streaks on her cheeks and her hair was disheveled. At times, she would bite down hard on her hand before she could let out a terrible shriek of agony and anger. She would then examine the slick bite marks near her thumb, the crescent craters of crimson contrasting with the porcelain skin surrounding them. And then her head would collapse into her hands again and she would cry once more.

How can one be furious, devastated, and terrified at the same time? Hermione managed to become absorbed in this state after she read the letter from Harry. Her parents were attacked. In their own home. And almost murdered. My fault my fault my fault my fault my fault pulsated through her mind. Why didn't she just force her parents to take the magical wards? Why couldn't she convince them to move somewhere else where there was no Death Eater activity? And most of all, why didn't she see this coming? The sole reason she was in Grimmauld Place was because Death Eaters were on the hunt for her. Once they realized that they couldn't find her on their own, of course they would've used her parents as a way to get the information. This attack was not on a whim. It was premeditated and planned out thoroughly for Merlin knows how long in advance. Days? Weeks? Months?

Either way, Hermione should have known that this would happen. She had been explicitly told that she was the second most wanted person by Voldemort. He would want to make an example out of her to show everyone what happens when Mudbloods act out and think that they can overcome the power of the Dark Lord. And many times had Hermione done just that. Countless Death Eaters had failed to kill her and there have been at least two planned out Death Eater operations to terminate her, and both had failed. So Voldemort would want to exercise every resource he had to silence the Mudblood that had escaped too many times. It was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters would get to her family.

Hermione then heard footsteps approaching from outside her door. She quickly wiped tears from her cheeks and tried to smooth down her hair. She knew she looked awful, but nevertheless she tried to make it less so. A gentle knock then came from the door. "Come in!" Hermione rasped out and then cleared her throat of sobs.

She watched the door open slowly as she made some last minute adjustments to fully conceal herself from how she was feeling. Aiden stood in the doorway grasping a letter in his right hand. Hermione's jaw clenched. He knew. And he probably expected her to be in here wailing, which she was a moment ago. But she refused to let him see her cry. She refused to let him see her so weak.

"Hi Aiden," she greeted, plastering on a feeble smile.

He closed the door and then said nothing as he stepped into the room. She watched his eyes linger on her and then fall to the floor. She followed his eyesight down and then saw the letter from Harry.

Hermione quickly stood up and placed herself in front of the fallen parchment. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, her arms folded.

His eyes were back on her. Aiden had the same look on his face she had seen on Harry when he told her she would be staying at Grimmauld Place. It read of genuine concern, worry, and a little bit of anticipation- like he was waiting for her to say something. Waiting for her shout, scream, react. Waiting for her to crack. But she commanded herself to stay steady and stay concrete.

Aiden moved closer and said, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she snapped. She then bit her tongue when she saw that he was taken aback. She wanted him to leave... but did she really?

Aiden exhaled. "I just wanted to check on you." His eyesight was fleeting from hers. He was about to leave...

But he surprised her. "Hermione, I want you to know that I won't stop you."

She stared at him hard. "I don't know what you're talking about." Denial. This was her comfort zone.

"Potter sent me this to let me know that Dumbledore is letting you go to them." Aiden held up the letter. "He seems to be under the impression that I'll keep you here and not let you go. But in fact, I want you to go."

Hermione heard him choke up when he uttered the last sentence. Why? Was he afraid she wouldn't return? Afraid that he'd lose her? She softened fractionally at this thought, but she still spoke with rigidness. "Still, I don't know what you're-"

"-Hermione," Aiden said broadly, which ceased Hermione's words. He continued. "Yes, you do."

He walked toward her. Her stomach began to scream and she felt the slightest amount of tears welling up from behind her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek to fight back.

"No, I don't," she retorted, looking down.

She closed her eyes and she felt his breath on her. His body heat was emanating off of him and she almost wanted to step into it and invite in the comforting warmth. But she knew that if she did this, she would break into pieces right in front of him.

All of a sudden, Aiden's hands grabbed both sides of her face and carefully maneuvered her to look up at him. Hermione's eyelids flew up, and she was staring into his striking gray irises, inches away from her. Memories thought forgotten of Draco Malfoy in the Head Boy and Girl office crashed over Hermione. Aiden's eyes were just like Malfoy's and she distinctly remembered the same look in his eyes when he almost kissed her. Right now, with Aiden, the exact same thing was happening. But this time, would she be kissed? And more importantly, would she kiss back?

The few moments where he held her in silence seemed to Hermione like a lifetime. She suddenly was feeling naked and almost jumped away to cover herself. But she remained locked in this position, gazing at Aiden and every so often looking down at his lips.

But he did not kiss her. Hermione was amazed at the fact that she was more disappointed than relieved. However, he still gently held her in this spot and whispered, "I know that you won't accept it. But I am here for you. You don't have to pretend with me."

And that was it. Aiden had gotten through her defenses and her armor fell. She took a step back, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed once more. She asked herself why she was crying again. Why did what Aiden say cause everything to go to shite?

You don't have to pretend with me.

And she realized that for the first time in a long time, she was being real. Every single day for the past year she had carried a dam inside herself. A dam that kept everything at bay. The War, Harry and Ron abandoning her, the constant danger her family was in, all pushed against this dam constantly and it never fell. There were some bad moments where the dam cracked and some water would spill through. But Hermione would only let this happen when she was by herself and she would quickly patch it up when she was with others. She would pretend that the dam was just fine and that it wasn't breaking.

But this facade had become increasingly more difficult to keep up. She was falling apart on the inside but she put in all her effort to make sure her smile wasn't. There were days where it took everything in her to get out of bed in the morning and she had to fake her way through breakfast. There were nights where Hermione would sob into her sleeve the moment Aiden said goodnight to her and she closed her door.

So why would she do this? Why would she do all this to make sure that she appeared okay in this midst of all this chaos? It was because she had to be strong. While the rest of the world was shattering, she had to be the beacon of hope for everyone else. Life needed to go on during the War and she was the one that needed show them how. People who were afraid would look to her for guidance, but who would she look to for guidance when she was afraid?

But the thing was that she was always afraid. Afraid for her family, her friends, herself. And now that she thought about it, she was afraid of vulnerability too... showing weakness and being raw and real... just like Draco Malfoy.

Dumbledore said that she made Malfoy feel vulnerable. With their "cycle", she was able to peel layers off him. Maybe now Aiden was doing the same thing to her.

Hermione let her head fall limp on his shoulder. She was full on crying now with no barrier to hide herself. Aiden gently laced her arms around his neck, and then he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'm so scared," she sobbed into the fabric of Aiden's robes.

"That's okay," he coaxed, caressing a hand through her hair.

"No, it's not."

Aiden didn't immediately respond, letting Hermione soak his robes with her tears. "Yes it is," he whispered.

Hermione then realized that Aiden did challenge her, surprise her, and make her question her life and beliefs. And she knew for certain that, at least in those moments of pure vulnerability, he was the best thing for her.

Draco held Hermione for the entire morning. A few hours passed and he helped her pack for the journey to St. Mungo's. It stung Draco every time he thought about it. Hermione was leaving him. And what if she didn't come back? What if he never saw her again? He desperately wanted to keep her here or even go with her. He just always wanted to have the knowledge that she was safe. And... he would miss her. Draco realized that he was much, much closer to the edge now. And any type of falling, even falling in love, came with fear. Draco feared that he wouldn't ever be able to love, and if he did, would Hermione reciprocate it?

The two of them sat on her bed and waited for Potter, her head resting on his shoulder. He was reminiscing the moment he had held her face in his hands. He could've kissed. He could've shown her the true depth of his feelings in that one action. But he refrained from doing it. He didn't want to take advantage of her in that moment of exposure. However, that didn't stop him from wondering if she would've let him.

A doorbell rang from downstairs at midnight and Hermione sat up. They both listened to the sound of Isabella opening the door and greeting Potter. They looked at each other. It was time to go.

Hermione slipped on her backpack and the two of them walked downstairs. There wasn't much of a goodbye; nothing was said and she simply waved, turned her back on him, and walked out with Potter. Draco almost pleaded to go with them. But he knew that it would be impossible. He heard the two of them descend the steps and then the pop of their Apparition.

So now she was gone. And he had to wait for her return... or to not return.

Draco turned away from the door with a disgruntled look on his face. He couldn't wait. Not again. He hated waiting for the infiltration of Hogwarts to happen, not knowing if he would ever see Hermione again after that, and now the same thing was happening. The uncertainty was killing him. If only he had more time...

Time.

Draco looked up and realized that he too needed to pay someone a visit.

He ran outside and Apparated as well, but instead of St. Mungo's, he landed in an alleyway beside The Three Broomsticks. It was a long shot, but it was the same time of night she had come before. He walked out the alleyway and into the pub, keeping his head down so no one could see him. His eyes scanned the area for her. There were only about ten people in the pub, and he was hoping that one of those ten people was Millicent Bulstrode.

Eventually, Draco's eyes landed on a hooded figure in the corner of the pub. He walked closer, and the figure turned slightly toward him. He saw her face for a split second before she jumped at the sight of him and then attempted to leave. Draco smiled. This was definitely her.

He grabbed her arm and took her outside and into the alleyway. She was protesting, but not wholeheartedly; she knew that she couldn't escape.

"My, my, Millicent. What are you doing out of bed this late?" Draco asked in condescension, folding his arms.

"I could ask you the same thing," she answered, rubbing the spot on her arm where Draco dragged her. "What do you want now?"

"I need more time."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't do that."

"But I might have a shot if-"

"Can't! Sorry."

Draco took a deep breath, taking everything in him to keep himself from shouting. "Okay. I pissed you off, you wasted me. But there's got to be something you can do. And you didn't even give me a year!" He took a step forward. "Come on, help me!"

"I. Can't. Do. It," Millicent annunciated. "I should have made it clear that I gave you a school year..."

He threw his hands in the air, interrupting her. "A school year?! Bloody hell!"

She continued. "You know what? I wouldn't give you more time if I could. You still don't think about anyone but yourself."

Draco pointed at her. "You're wrong! I do think about other people. I think about Hermione and what her life is like, a woman who can't see the man she loves, and a man who can't see period!"

Millicent raised both of her eyebrows, and Draco was shocked to see her slightly... pleased. "So he cares now," she hummed.

Draco nodded and his eyes fell to the cobblestone ground beneath him. She couldn't give him any more time. But there must have been something that she could give, especially after only giving him nine months instead of twelve. Maybe not to him, but the people who were with him from the beginning.

He exhaled. "Okay, I'll keep going until the end of June. But is there any part of the curse that could help William and Isabella? It's the least they deserve after being trapped in this hell with me."

"There is," she said lowly. "It's a sort of magical incentive that comes with the curse being broken. But it can only be cast if the person under the curse truly is asking this for selfless reasons."

"I am! All I want is for William to have his sight and for Isabella to see Adam again."

Millicent looked at Draco, seeming to examine him to see if he was being genuine. She then sighed and pulled out her wand. "Show me the tattoo."

He smiled and pulled up his sleeve on his left arm, exposing his tattoo. Some flowers were beginning to bloom on the tree. The witch pointed her wand at the center of the tree and muttered, "Parlayo."

The tree began to glow green and Draco felt tingling in his forearm. The glow soon began to fade and then it instantly disappeared.

Millicent put her wand away and started to walk out of the alley.

"Thank you!" Draco called out to her.

She turned around, wearing a small smile. "You're welcome. Good luck, Draco."

The witch left, and Draco Disapparated out of Hogsmeade.