Sorry for not answering your comments, I'm having a rough month. Thank you for all of them, though, it helps lot.

Hermione was sitting behind her counter, busy working on her latest order. It had arrived the day before, after several weeks of waiting, so now she had to sort the books, check that the packing slip matched her requests and then add the books to her register before putting them on the shelves.

She loved this kind of work. It was a perfect way to clear her mind and relax. She would disconnect from her mind, from her thoughts, there was only her hands and those books. She didn't need to think about anything else but these books, which had to be put in the right place, on the right shelf, in the right order. This was her moment.

She took care of it as soon as she arrived at the bookshop, just before it opened. This way she could start her day on the right foot, without having to worry about the potential unpleasant or dangerous customers she might meet.

These order days were rare occasions, but she enjoyed them every time.

And on this morning of the 19th of September, Hermione knew that she would need it more than any other day.

Albert had sensed her anxiety as soon as she had woken up and had not left her side since. He would follow her everywhere, so much so that she had to sit with him to get him to eat. He was the perfect moral support. If Albert felt that she was not well–for whatever reason–he always found a way to support her.

She remembered one night, during an anxiety attack, when he brought one of his foam toys to her in his mouth, thinking it would help calm her down. His mere presence had been enough. He was her best companion, her best friend.

Yet, as the day began, nothing seemed to soothe Hermione. Her hands were shaking as she tried to write down the names of the books she had received. Her handwriting was illegible. The inside of her cheek was swollen from being bitten. Her legs were heavy from being so tense.

She hadn't celebrated her birthday for a long time. She didn't want to. Harry had tried to drag her out the first few years after the war, but she had ended up asking him to stop.

He had never tried again.

This date was far too marked by memories of her parents, with whom she had celebrated the majority of her birthdays. That day in September left a bitter taste in her mouth, gripped her heart and overwhelmed her with sadness. Her memories were tainted by grief rather than love.

She was therefore resolved to transform this day into a regular one.

And everything was just fine, until the melody of the doorbell rang in the shop's entrance. She frowned. It wasn't open yet. This was not normal.

Panic soared. More than anxiety, it was now a terror that invaded her. Her heartbeat quickened immediately as she struggled not to look up at the door, too afraid to run into one of the Death Eaters that haunted her nights. It was most likely, wasn't it? Who else could want anything from her at this time of day?

Greyback's red eyes after pulling away from Lavender Brown's bloody neck.

Bellatrix Lestrange's bushy, filthy hair draped over her face as she tortured her.

Yaxley's smug, terrifying smile.

Dolohov's hot, stinking breath.

Lucius Malfoy's cane and tailored outfit.

The crazed looks of the Carrow twins.

Hermione was petrified with fear. It was far too early for visitors. The postman never came at this hour.

What if she had been followed? What if someone was waiting until she was busy and distracted to attack? After all, she had become less vigilant in the last few weeks. She had let herself get caught up in recent events, she had not paid enough attention.

She was already imagining herself locked up in a dilapidated dungeon and tortured under the wand of a bloodthirsty monster. Her hands trembled on her account sheets as she stubbornly kept her head down.

She was so afraid. Albert had barely reacted to the sudden entrance into the shop, used to the village customers, but Hermione knew that this was not normal. She assumed the worst.

It was the clearing of her visitor's throat that forced her to move. And it was Harry Potter's emerald eyes that she met.

"We used a Time Turner to save Buckbeak and Sirius in third year!" he said before she could even check his identity.

Her apprehensions left her all at once. They slipped from her body as though her clothes were being violently removed. She felt drained.

"Harry," she whispered, hardly believing it.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" he worried as he walked over to her.

She had been so scared. So scared that she didn't have to think for a second before she fell into Harry's arms.

She burst into tears as she clung to him as if her life depended on it. His presence finally allowed her to breathe, to open her eyes and realise that everything was okay. It was liberating.

"What's going on?" Harry gasped as he held her close.

Albert was barking behind them, but she didn't pay any attention to him, nor did she respond to her friend. She was somewhere else, far away, lost in this sudden change of emotion. She had been so overwhelmed that it was still difficult for her to recover.

She felt herself being moved, but was unable to concentrate on the movement. She tried to concentrate on her breathing and calm the stream of incoherent thoughts that had invaded her mind. It was like a thousand gnats swirling and buzzing in her skull to prevent her from relaxing. She had to get rid of them one by one.

Soon, as she gradually regained her awareness of the world around her, she realised she was on Harry's lap in a reading chair. Her breathing was still rapid and so was her heart rate, but this time Hermione could hear and understand Harry's words.

"It's okay, Hermione, it's okay. I'm here and no one wants to hurt you," he repeated in a whisper.

So he understood what had gotten her into such a state, she realised as she closed her eyes to match her breathing to his. He had put a hand on the base of her head and was stroking the top of her neck to soothe her. He knew exactly what to do.

"I thought–I thought I was being–attacked," she sobbed, sniffling gracelessly.

"It's only me, Hermione," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry I scared you so much. I wanted to surprise you."

The admission made her frown. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him.

"Surprise me?" she repeated, confused.

He scratched the back of his head and looked away.

"I know you never want to celebrate your birthday, but I wanted to take you somewhere today. Exceptionally."

He had spoken too quickly, so that she wouldn't cut him off before he finished. He seemed to fear her reaction.

It didn't take long for it to come. Hermione sat up in his arms and looked at him, unsure of how to react.

A part of her was swelling with anger at the fact that he hadn't respected her wish to make this day something ordinary. She had told herself this so many times before he entered the shop.

However, seeing him like this, after so much emotion, made her want to spend time with him. Their relationship remained distant, despite his last visit to her house. They sent each other a few letters, but Hermione still found it hard to interact with him naturally. She didn't really confide in him, she didn't feel the need to.

So, she thought that maybe this would be an opportunity to reconnect with him. Now that he was here, close to her, Hermione was transported back to a few years ago, when everything was normal, when everything was good.

"Where?" she asked as she pulled herself off his lap.

Albert came and rubbed against her legs. She ran her hand through his white fur as Harry looked back at her in surprise. He obviously hadn't expected her to accept.

"It's a surprise," he replied, doing his best to hide his excitement.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure. She was tempted to follow him, but memories of their last escapade together came to her mind. What if, for some reason, they had to run away and scour the country to hide?

"We'll be in a car," Harry resumed, cutting her off from her negative thoughts.

"The same one as last time?" she asked, putting her hand on his forearm excitedly.

"The same," he agreed with a chuckle. "We have a two and a half hour drive."

Immediately, Hermione began to think about the different possibilities that a trip of this length would offer them. Spain? Pau? The sea? The ocean?

She imagined all sorts of things, and as she did so, Harry took the opportunity to close the shop with a few flicks of his wand, then pulled her out by the hand.

"Tell me where we're going," she repeated several times on the way to the car.

But Harry laughed and refused each time.

Strangely enough, driving felt good. She kept her mind off her bookshop, her rushed routine and the fact that Harry was visiting her for her birthday.

She concentrated on the landscapes that flashed before her eyes, on her best friend's voice as he talked about his daily life with Theo and on Albert's head resting on her lap, sitting between them in the front.

Sometimes she closed her eyes to enjoy the cool wind on her face through the window. She felt good. She felt soothed.

Then the sea appeared before her eyes, after several hours of driving, and Hermione smiled broadly.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed happily.

She caught Harry's teasing look, but made no comment on it. She was far too happy to let it distract her.

A few minutes later, they reached the ocean and the Atlantic coastline of the Pyrenees appeared a few metres below them.

When the car had stopped, Hermione opened the door and stepped out to enjoy the sea air that was blowing around.

She held her arms out in a cross and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes.

"This is wonderful," she exclaimed.

The wind raged on the coast, drowning out her voice.

"I know how much you love the sea," Harry said as he joined her.

She was facing the ocean. They would have to walk a hundred yards to reach the beach. They were at the edge of a large forest.

"I thought it would be a nice change of pace for you," he added with a shrug.

She opened her eyes again and turned to him, a gentle smile on her lips.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I think I needed it."

She felt good. She felt soothed.

oOo

Harry had dropped him off half an hour earlier and yet Theodore had not moved from the front door. He stood still and stared at the door as if it didn't exist.

He couldn't convince himself to go in. He was anxious.

Anxious that Draco, his best friend, would turn out to be down in the dumps again. He did not have good memories of their last meeting.

The blond had been silent the whole time, he had barely dared to meet his eyes, while Theo tried to understand his condition.

After that, he had asked his husband dozens of times to explain what had happened to his best friend, to explain the reasons for the almost lethargic state in which he had found him. Harry had been unable to answer him. He had not wanted to say anything to him.

This had led to arguments that had ended in tears every time. Harry kept telling him that it was Draco's job to tell him and that he didn't want to hurt him. Theo replied that he needed to know, that he was worried and that it was unfair that he wasn't privy to what seemed like horrors.

Harry hadn't given in. Nor had Pansy, nor Blaise. And Theo was still worried.

Besides, with Daphne's recent death, he feared Draco would be in a worse state than before. At least he knew one thing: his best friend had taken the news of his mother's death terribly hard.

Harry had offered that Theo should stay at their house, but he had refused. He didn't want to be alone and miss the chance to see Draco, no matter how bad he might feel. He would rather go show his support than leave Draco alone. Theo was ready to do anything to reconnect with him.

And although Theo was still reluctant to wander around the adjacent villages and mingle with strangers, he was still desirous of seeing his friends. Pansy had visited them a few times, much to his delight.

Harry had once taken him to the nearest village. He had held his hand tightly the whole time to reassure him, but that hadn't calmed Theo down and he hadn't wanted to stay more than ten minutes.

People were watching them, judging them for their proximity, whispering as they passed and it had been terrible to experience. Theodore had felt oppressed. He had wanted to run without stopping and get away from this place which was terrible for him.

Harry had finally admitted to him that his visits to the village had changed since they had been there together. The inhabitants were sometimes bitter, mean, even disrespectful. Theodore had been shocked by this.

One more reason not to go back. Theo had thought that Muggles would be more forgiving since they didn't know about his Death Eater past, but he was very much mistaken. He never wanted to go back there again, it was far too traumatic.

Thus, leaving the manor's domain to go to the Pyrenees proved to be another ordeal for Theo. He was leaving his comfortable routine of drawing and resting.

Satine and Harry were the only interactions he had. He didn't count the few visits from Pansy, it was far too light.

And on this day, he would step out of his comfort zone and go see Draco on his own. They would be alone.

After a long reflection, Theo finally decided to enter the house. The warmth of the fireplace washed over him and he closed his eyes. There was a smell of cinnamon wafting through the air, a warm smell that reminded him of his studio. It was vibrant.

He did not linger any longer on the ground floor and decided to go upstairs.

What a surprise it was to see Draco standing on the last step as he made his way to the stairs.

They both froze. Theo was shocked, convinced that his best friend had never left his bedroom before. After all, Pansy had never told him otherwise. He had imagined that Draco spent his days in his room, moping around. He had been revolted by his inert state and the dehumanising state of the bedroom. The magic toilet installed by Pansy left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Yet there Draco stood before him, clinging to the stair railings, and he seemed as shocked as Theo was.

But before Theo could do anything, Draco recoiled, as if frightened.

"Wait!" he exclaimed as he watched him walk up the stairs without taking his eyes off him. "It's all right! I've come for the day."

He was angry at himself for not telling him. If Harry was surprising Granger, that should not have been the case with Draco. He had always disliked surprises. Now he had to loathe them. How could Theo have been so stupid?

"We can stay up there, if you prefer," he tried as he began to follow him.

"What are you doing here?" Draco blurted out as he reached the top of the stairs.

Theo looked down at the blond man's hand, which he was holding so tightly to the railing that his knuckles were turning white.

Theodore swallowed. He was embarrassed, he felt out of place. He shouldn't have come.

"Harry went out with Granger for her birthday. I figured that–"

He hesitated. He thought he was a fool. Maybe Draco had no desire to see him. Maybe he didn't even think of him as his friend anymore. He should have taken a step back, let him make the first move so as not to rush him. Why was he so wise when it came to others, but wasn't capable of the same thing for himself?

"I thought I'd take the opportunity to come and see you," he finally confessed.

Draco remained silent. This went on for so long that Theodore was ready to leave. He could see himself waiting in the living room all day for Harry to return.

Eventually the blond turned away and went to his room. The door did not slam. This was a sign for Theo, who decided to join him.

The bedroom hadn't changed much since the last time. The sheets on the bed were the same, the furniture hadn't moved, the owl–Wynn, according to what Pansy had told him–was asleep in its cage and the window was wide open.

The only change he noticed was a pile of clean laundry on the bedroom dresser. This was new. Another clue that his friend's condition was not what he had imagined.

Draco was standing in front of the window, his hands clenched in the pockets of his grey jogging suit, his gaze lost to the outside.

Theo watched him for a few seconds. His back was bent, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His hair had grown down to the back of his neck and his clothes were too large. He seemed to be floating in them.

If on the surface Draco Malfoy was not tired, his outward gaze was filled with an exhaustion that seemed never to be relieved. His soul was drained.

Theo swallowed. He suddenly felt bad. His questions were coming back. Why wasn't Draco in the same state as him? Why did he seem to have been through so much worse? Was that so? No one had told him anything. So he had just assumed they had been through the same thing. He had been naive. It was so surreal now...

Theo didn't know what to say, what to do. He wanted to reconnect with his friend, even though he felt they were a thousand miles apart. Even though he felt lucky compared to him. Even though he had been able to travel across the country while Draco couldn't even leave his house. How could he deign to speak to him when Theo had lived in paradise when Draco seemed to have gone through hell?

He felt a fool for wanting to reconnect. Harry had urged him several times to send him letters, he had argued that a written discussion might be easier, but Theo had refused. He wanted things to be normal, he wanted them to be able to talk to each other. Like before.

Perhaps he had been too optimistic.

Draco seemed closed to discussion and his impromptu intrusion did not help.

"I'm sorry, I should have sent you a letter to let you know I was coming."

Draco shrugged, but Theo knew it mattered more to him than he would ever admit.

He swayed from one foot to the other.

"Do you want to go out?" he asked, unsure.

He was desperate to take a step towards Draco, but had no idea how.

"I'm fine here," he replied hoarsely, as if just talking was an ordeal.

Theo swallowed. The more time passed, the more uncomfortable he felt. He ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Do you want me to leave?" he suggested with a grimace.

Then Draco turned his head towards him and looked into his eyes.

Theo flinched. He felt the power of the emotions he read in his eyes assault him.

Sadness. Anger. Jealousy. Anxiety. Torment. Despair. Pain.

He felt his heart quicken as he saw this. It was powerful. It was all hitting him in the face.

"Why are you here?"

This question hit him harder than he thought it would. It was like a spike in the heart.

"Because you're my friend," he answered as if it were obvious.

His tone had become hoarse with emotion.

"Because we've always been friends," he added.

"And that's a reason to stay that way? After everything that's happened?"

Theo frowned. What did he mean?

"Nothing's happened."

Draco laughed wryly. He was smiling for the first time in front of him, though it was more fake than anything.

"You're lying to yourself. Far too much has happened."

Theo's heart was pounding, but he forced himself not to react. He remained unmoved.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Of course I should. You're my best friend."

"You think so? A best friend doesn't lead his friends to jail. A best friend doesn't push his friends to serve the devil!"

Theodore took a step back in shock. So that was why he was so closed off? Because he felt guilty? It didn't make sense. It should have been something else, something much more serious. How could he only focus on that, after all he had been through?

"You didn't do any of this. You always pushed us to the contrary because you knew the Dark Lord was wicked. You never believed any of it, Draco."

The latter shook his head and turned back to the window.

"You followed me and I didn't stop you."

"You couldn't have. My father had decided what my future would be before I was even born. He wanted me to follow him into battle, to be the same loyal servant of the Dark Lord that he was. Pansy didn't have a choice either. And even if we had, we would never have left you alone!"

"You risked your lives. You lost seven years."

"And you had nothing to do with it. We were in a war, whatever you did, the result would have been the same. I was marked against my will. No one could have prevented it without getting killed. Don't beat yourself up over something you didn't do."

Draco remained silent and Theo took the opportunity to cautiously walk towards him.

"If you need to be forgiven, even for something you're not guilty of, I forgive you, Draco."

Then the blonde's shoulders relaxed and Theo knew he had been right to do so.

oOo

Harry and Hermione stood facing the ocean. She had pulled her trousers up to her knees to get her feet in the water, while her friend was watching her, lying on the white sand.

The afternoon was already well under way. They had had a wonderful morning, full of contemplation and discussion. A lot of things had been worked out.

They had taken the opportunity to talk about things they had never talked about before. How each of them had experienced the weeks of travel that had been the Horcrux hunt, Hermione's parents who had never been able to get their memories back, or what had become of their various acquaintances.

If Harry had noticed Hermione's reluctance to talk about her condition since the end of the war–as she always did–he hadn't commented. He had no desire to spoil the day. He had hope that things would work out between them, that Hermione would finally be open to reconnecting. He felt that she understood his position, that she understood that he had done his best. It was good.

"Luna met Charlie when she went on holiday looking for the woman who discovered the Nargles. She never found her and ended up in Romania, where she stayed with Charlie. They've been together ever since. I've even heard that he's considering returning to England."

Information like this came thick and fast. Sometimes Hermione asked questions, sometimes she just nodded.

"Angelina and George broke up. She couldn't bear to go through any more grief. According to Bill, it was for the best."

Harry had kept in touch with the elder sibling. He occasionally exchanged letters with Molly, but his main contact with the United Kingdom was Bill. Ron no longer spoke to him and Percy still held a grudge. There was no need to mention George, who was abusing alcohol to cope with depression, nor Ginny who couldn't even stand to live in the country anymore.

"Dean lives in the Muggle world, from what I've heard. He has hardly any connection to the magical world anymore, apart from Seamus."

Hermione was pensive most of the time, as if she was trying to decide whether to react or not. She barely did at all.

"Neville has taken over Sprout's post."

As the sun began to decline in the sky, they decided to go home.

Harry felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He felt like he had his best friend back.