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by alissa.mellie

jh

1. Chapter 1

Fifth Year, Hogwarts

Hermione huffed out a frustrated breath and lowered her book, even while she settled further into the couch and against his warm chest, melting into the comfort of him as she always did. They'd had this argument—this conversation, he always insisted—many times before. No matter what she said, he was undeterred.

He was exasperated with her now, but still absentmindedly ran his hands up and down her arms—craving the feeling of her skin.

"Hermione," he huffed, "I know you don't want to hear it, but they are. They're using you. Of course, they don't act like it, but can you honestly say that they have been real friends to you? Besides copying your homework, letting you figure out how to solve all of their problems, and dragging you into harms' way at every conceivable opportunity, how are they actually showing you that they care about you?"

"We've been best friends since first year…I know how much they care about me. It's the same way I care about them." she replied in a quiet but determined tone.

"Really? You've memorized Potter's entire life story, even come close to dying for him on more than one occasion. You go to all his quidditch matches even though you can't stand it. You actually listen when Weasley prattles on about…well honestly I haven't a clue." He sat up straighter and wrapped her in his arms, leaning his head forward into hers.

"But them? In the years you've known them, how often do they listen when you talk about the things you love? Do they know that when you dance, you're so overcome with joy that it radiates from every part of your body? Do they know that you started reading so much as a kid because you were lonely and stories about magic and adventure comforted you? Do they know you want to become a healer and find cures for as many magical diseases as you can? Hell, do they even know how you take your coffee?!"

For as much as this conversation was frustrating her, Hermione was momentarily silenced by his words. How closely he'd paid attention and how much he'd learned about her, in this room, while they whispered to each other late into the night.

She turned her head and kissed his cheek tenderly.

"I know it seems that way, but there is just so much going on. There always has been. It's not that they don't care. They do. I know they'll always be there for me, no matter what. I can feel it in my bones."

He gave a single, unamused laugh before kissing her temple. "Gryffindors…you're all far too stubborn for your own good."

She turned in his arms to face him, sitting back on her knees with a crooked smile on her face.

"You love me for it, don't try to deny it."

He moved his hands up to cradle her face, using his thumbs to softly trace the hinge of her jaw.

"I do love you. That's why I don't want to see you get hurt. I couldn't stand it."

His face was so open, so sincere that Hermione's heart swelled in her chest. She leaned her face into his touch, placing a kiss on the center of his palm.

"I won't get hurt, I promise. And if I did," a mischievous gleam took over her eyes as she ran her hands up his chest, "I am a Gryffindor, and we lions have very sharp claws." She curled her fingers and dug them into his chest, right over his heart.

He grinned, his eyes darkened, and she knew she'd won. But before she could blink, he'd reared up, grabbed her around the waist, and flipped them so his body covered hers.

He slowly ran his hands up her sides, leaving goose flesh in his wake.

"Is that so? Well, my little lioness, why don't you show me just how you use those claws of yours…"

She was laughing when his lips met hers, and suddenly any thoughts of their argument vanished into the recesses of her mind.

2001, The Burrow

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

The evening was unfolding in much the same way as all of the other Christmas dinners she'd attended at The Burrow, even though she and Ron had broken up less than two months ago.

She'd been unsure if she would attend Christmas dinner this year—or if she would even be welcomed by the family after ending things with Ron. She'd been prepared for a quiet Christmas alone to avoid any awkward confrontations, until Molly showed up at her door a week before the holiday to inform her that she would always be part of their family and under no circumstances would she skip Christmas. And if she didn't arrive on time, Molly would personally floo to her flat and drag her to The Burrow by her ear.

Harry and Ginny had come just hours later to reiterate the message, and to assure her that Ron also wanted her to be there.

She smiled at the memory while looking up and down the table at the red headed clan that had become her family over the last ten years.

Next to her, Bill was laughing conspiratorially with Charlie while Fleur alternated between cooing over Victoire and rolling her eyes at what must have been the crude jokes being shared between the two eldest Weasley boys.

Ginny was ribbing Harry about a recent pick up quidditch match (she'd won, he'd lost, and she would not let him forget it).

From across the table, George, who had grown a bit more subdued in the years following Fred's death, gave her a quick wink before slapping Percy on the shoulder and joining Ginny in taking the piss out of Harry, while Molly and Arthur looked on warmly, bouncing between the conversations.

Ron was the only member of the family behaving out of character, vacillating between half-heartedly engaging with the conversations around the table and staring down, unblinking, at his plate with a tense, almost fierce, look in his eyes.

Hermione sighed internally. The evening was bound to have its awkward moments. She and Ron had been together for three years, for heaven's sake, and trying to figure out how to go back to being friends was going to take some work. But now that she was here and still felt the same warmth and love from the family, she was dedicated to finding a way back to the time when she and Ron's relationship was easy, without any of the awkwardness that being lovers had caused.

Taking a steadying breath, she decided to make the first move.

Leaning across the table, she spoke with as much cheer as possible, "How's the Figgen investigation going, Ron? I heard Tonks mention that you'd made some big developments in discovering how the dragon eggs were being smuggled into Knockturn?"

Ron's whole body jerked in surprise as he spun his head toward her.

"What? I…oh…um, right, Figgen. It's, well, it's…"

Well, this was worse than she'd imagined. If Ron was incapable of even speaking to her, she'd need to do the work for both of them.

Typical, she thought, before shaking her head and opening her mouth to try again.

But before she could get a word out, Ron looked up and locked eyes with her with a look of determination she hadn't seen on his face since the war. She tilted her head and raised her brows, before he took a deep breath, nodded his head, and looked away.

Suddenly, he pushed his chair back from the table with so much force it screeched and toppled over behind him, causing a brief cry from Victoire.

All eyes turned to Ron.

"I need to make an announcement," he said with a steely confidence, his back ramrod straight and his hands clenched in fists at his side.

"Ron…not tonight." Charlie murmured in a half pleading, half chastising tone.

"Mate, let's just…" Harry said at the same moment, reaching up to grab Ron's arm.

As Hermione looked around the table, she saw a mixture of emotions flitting across the faces of her family. Confusion, surprise, and from Harry, Ginny, Charlie, and even Arthur, fear.

"What is it dear?" Mrs. Weasley intoned, while looking between Ron and Hermione—clearly hoping that Ron was about to announce that they'd gotten back together.

Hermione's stomach dropped. Was Ron about to make some overwrought declaration of love while their family stood by? How would she get out of this unscathed? Just as the mortification began to set in, Ron finally spoke.

"I'm engaged."

Hermione had been girding herself for whatever he was about to say, but suddenly she wasn't certain if she'd even heard him correctly.

"You're…what dear?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, hope still sparkling on her confused face. "Did you and Hermione…"

Arthur put his head in his hands.

As if he had not even heard his mother, Ron continued.

"I've asked Daphne Greengrass to marry me and she's said yes. We've been together for quite some time and we're very much in love. We're planning a long engagement and will marry in…"

"Wait a moment, mate," George interjected, "You asked some girl to marry you after dating her for…what? Six weeks?" He waved over to Hermione in explanation before turning back to Ron.

"We haven't been dating for six weeks." Ron answered quietly, sparing the briefest glimpse toward Hermione.

George gave a single bark of laughter.

"So, seven then? Are you feeling alright, mate? Should we check him for curses?" George replied, looking across the table to Charlie and Bill.

"Sweetheart, I'm confused. What's happened?" Molly said hesitantly, her hands shaking slightly.

"Molly, dear, let's talk about this –" Mr. Weasley began, setting his hand atop his wife's.

Molly looked to Arthur, and then slowly around the room.

"What's going on? Arthur? What do you know? Did you all know about this? Is this some kind of prank? Did George put you up to this Ron?" Molly's voice rose with each word, as color began to rise on her cheeks.

"Oi!" yelped George, affronted.

"Mum, we, well…" Charlie began, before Molly put up a hand to silence him.

"No. No. I want to hear from Ron. What is going on? Who is Daphne Greengrass? Is she a member of that Greengrass family? What do you mean you're marrying her? You cannot marry someone you've only known for a few weeks, Ronald!" Molly was screaming now.

"We've been together for two years, mum! Not weeks, TWO YEARS. She's the love of my life!" Ron yelled back, his hands now spread wide and his eyes shining with conviction.

Sound exploded in the room, but Hermione couldn't hear any of it.

Her brain felt like it was at once working faster than ever before, while at the same time wading through the thickest molasses.

Never one to shy away from deducing an answer to a riddle, even in the worst of circumstances, Hermione began to run through what she knew.

Ron was marrying Daphne Greengrass.

Ron had been with Daphne Greengrass for two years.

Ron had been with Daphne Greengrass for two years?!

Ron had cheated on Hermione for two years.

The conclusion was as definitive as it was incomprehensible.

And the look on Harry's face. On Ginny's and Charlie's and Arthur's…

She slowly turned her head to look around the room. Everyone else was standing now. Molly was crying and yelling in Ron's direction. George was red faced and yelling right alongside her. Percy was stock still, his mouth hanging open. Fleur was shielding Victoire's ears and speaking in rapid French to Bill.

But Harry, Ginny, Charlie, and Arthur…They were all ashen faced, trying to calm down Molly and George. They didn't appear shocked by the news, and when Harry briefly glanced toward Hermione, the resigned, almost embarrassed way he looked at her made it clear: He had known.

They had all known. They had all known he had cheated on her. And they hadn't told her.

Unbidden, Hermione's eyes drifted down to her left forearm, where the words that meant more to her than any others were now inked over the hate carved there by Bellatrix Lestrange: Amor Vincit Omnia.

Hermione's vision began to blur as a deafening roar started in her ears.

Unnoticed in the midst of the screams still volleying around the kitchen, Hermione got up from her chair, grabbed her bag, and made her way toward the floo.

Her brain had emptied of all but one thought.

He was right.

He was right about them.

They didn't care about her.

He was right.

Her mind began to slip back into the memory from fifth year as she grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the green flames. No one turned to see her go.

She heard it like a heartbeat echoing through her soul, over and over again.

He was right.

He was right.

Draco was right.

Chapter Text

The summer before Fifth Year

Hermione stood outside the front gate to her home in the hot afternoon sun, an amused smile playing on her face as she witnessed something she had never seen before: Draco Malfoy nervous.

He stood across from her, manically fiddling with his cufflinks and straightening his tie for the seventh time since she'd met him on the sidewalk three minutes ago.

Taking pity on him, she stepped forward and placed her hands over his. "Draco, take a deep breath. If you tighten your tie again it's going to cut off your circulation." She gave him a reassuring smile when his eyes, still frantic, landed on her.

"How aren't you more nervous right now, Hermione?" She could feel how fast his heart was beating below her fingers on his chest.

She ran her hands up to his shoulders and down his arms before clutching both of his hands in hers.

"I'm not nervous because there is nothing to be nervous about. They're going to love you."

When he gave her a disbelieving look, she leveled him with a firm stare. "Draco, if the one-and-only Narcissa Malfoy, matriarch of the most famous pureblood family in Britain, mother to the sole heir of a Sacred Twenty-Eight bloodline, can accept that her son is dating a muggleborn—and a Gryffindor, no less—we have nothing else to worry about." She squeezed his hands and smiled as Draco leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers.

"That's because it's you, Hermione. You're perfect. Of course she loved you."

"And you're…what? A brainless ghoul?" She teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Draco just closed his eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath.

"I've never met any muggles before, Hermione," he admitted in a whisper, "much less my girlfriend's parents. I don't want to muck it up." He released her hands and placed one of his on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb along the hinge of her jaw.

Hermione's eyes softened.

"You're not going to muck it up, Draco. They know how I feel about you, and I swear that they aren't the interrogating type. My dad is going to ask you what it was like to grow up knowing you were a wizard and what your favorite subject is in school, and my mom is going to ask about your favorite books while trying not to squeal in excitement that someone finally took a liking to her only daughter."

Finally, he smiled back at her.

"I've taken more than a liking to you, Hermione."

She blushed and leaned her face into his hand before whispering back, "I've taken more than a liking to you, too, Draco."

The pair both blushed and smiled bashfully at each other for several moments before Hermione remembered herself.

"Right! So let's just get on with it then, yeah?"

She reached back down and twined their fingers together before turning to walk them toward the front door.

Christmas, 2001

Hermione stumbled, half blind, out of the floo. Looking around, she realized that she hadn't returned to her flat. Somewhere deep in her subconscious, she'd known not to go back there, that she'd be too easily followed, and had brought herself into the empty living room of her parent's house instead.

Well, technically it was her house now.

She'd never sold it or changed the deed after obliviating and sending her parents to Australia during the war, and after they had died in a car accident—a godsdamned car accident, of all things—less than a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, their will had dictated that the house go to Hermione.

She'd kept it, at first too stricken with grief to think of parting with her childhood home, and later assuming that at some point in the future, she and Ron would live here together.

She could almost laugh at the notion now.

When she'd ended things with Ron in October, she couldn't help but look around her flat, the flat they had shared together, and realize that she couldn't see any of herself there. She had let Ron push her personality into smaller and smaller corners of the two-bedroom space until it was just gone, devoid of anything Hermione could identify as uniquely hers, anything that truly felt like home.

So she'd made the decision that waiting for some future point down the road to move into the house made no sense. Life was short, she knew that better than most, and she wasn't going to waste hers.

She'd started spending her spare time at the house after that, planning the renovations she would make. From building a library, to remodeling the kitchen, and adding a magically extended greenhouse in the back garden, and thinking about how happy her parents would be that she was putting so much of herself into the home they all loved together.

But she hadn't told anyone about it yet. No one knew she even owned the house, much less that she was moving in.

She huffed a joyless laugh. She'd been planning to tell them tonight.

How quickly things change.

Hermione began pacing back and forth, barely noticing the drop cloths, paint buckets, and construction materials scattered all around her.

Her breathing was becoming erratic as the reality of what had just transpired began to crash around her.

Ron had been cheating on her. With Daphne Greengrass, their former classmate who had started working as an assistant in the DMLE a little over two years ago, assisting Ron, Harry, and the other Aurors with their work.

A little over two years ago. Shortly after Hermione's parents had died. When she had been consumed by grief, struggling to do more than get up, go to work, and fall back into bed. She'd known that Ron had grown weary of her mood, frustrated that she wasn't able to pull herself out of it like she always had before, and now she realized how he had coped.

He had started fucking Daphne Greengrass.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at the curls against her scalp until it hurt.

How had she not seen this? How could she not have known? She was the smart one. She was the godsdamned brightest witch of her age! And yet, somehow, she had missed the fact that the man she had loved, the man she had known since they were eleven, who had fought a war by her side, had been stringing her along, using her for two years?!

She didn't understand, and Hermione hated not understanding.

Was it her fault? Had she been so unsatisfactory that he had to find pleasure elsewhere? She knew that she'd been out of it for several months after her parents…but after that, she had worked so hard to put herself back together. She'd focused on Ron, wanting to make the time up to him. She'd stopped going to the studio to dance. She'd let go of some of her research. All so she had more time to spend with him.

She'd realized toward the end that none of it was working. That she and Ron wanted different things, and that they'd never be able to get around his insistence that she give up her career when they had children.

But Ron must have known all along. He must have known that it was never going to work. Why else would he have been sneaking around behind her back? With vile Daphne Greengrass of all people?!

Hermione shook her head back and forth violently. Disturbing thoughts beginning to take over her mind.

Had he fucked her in their flat? On their bed?

Had he ever really wanted her? He'd pursued her so intensely after the war…had that all been a lie? Or had she just been the convenient option?

If she'd missed this, did that mean she missed other things too? Had she lost it? Was she even capable of being in a relationship? What did this mean for her ability to do her work? She was a healer researching experimental treatments and cures for magical maladies and contracted with the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable who provided assistance in dark magic reversal and complex spells for the DMLE. Could she really do those jobs effectively if she couldn't even see what was right in front of her face?

Her eyes began to dart around the room wildly, before finally landing on the single gold picture frame displayed on the mantle. The one memento she'd brought over from her flat.

It was a photo from Harry and Ginny's wedding. They were standing on either side of Hermione, hugging her while she clutched at them and beamed at the camera. Ron, Molly, Arthur, and George were all gathered around, laughing and celebrating with them.

It had been her favorite memory of that day.

But as she looked at it now, she stuttered out a broken gasp and fell to her knees.

They'd known.

Not all of them, she thought, but at least Arthur, Charlie, Ginny, and Harry. They had all known that Ron was cheating on her. She could see it on their faces at the table.

Harry had known. Her best friend. Her first ever friend. He'd known, and he hadn't stopped it. Hadn't forced Ron to tell her, or told her himself.

And Ginny, who she loved like a sister.

And Arthur. Arthur, the kindest man she'd ever met. The one she considered her surrogate father.

Her chest felt like it had cracked in two.

All of these people. Her family. They'd abandoned her. They'd allowed her to be humiliated. They had humiliated her.

Hermione lurched forward, her head falling into her hands as sobs began to work their way up her body.

Her family was gone. Her family had chosen Ron and cast her out instead. Her best friend wasn't her friend at all.

She had no one left. No one to talk to. Nowhere to go. No one who loved her.

The pain felt all consuming.

How did she go on from this? Should she even try? Maybe it would…just be better, easier, if it all ended.

As soon as the thought passed through her mind, she knew she needed help. She had to get out of this house that suddenly felt like a mausoleum. She had to find somewhere…someone.

Theo.

The tiny piece of her mind that was still working reminded her that maybe there was someone she could go to.

Theodore Nott had been working with Hermione as an Unspeakable for a year and a half, and during that time he'd tried over and over again to make the two of them friends.

Hermione had never interacted with Theo at Hogwarts, had only heard about him from Draco, but she'd come to learn that he was both kind and very, very persistent.

His personality was undeniable. Rakish but sincere and wickedly funny, Hermione had been shocked by how smart and creative he was, and how he always went out of his way to make her smile, invite her out to drinks after work, and include her in his own private jokes.

She liked him, she had just never fully given in to his offer of friendship. Not because she didn't trust him, just because her life was full already. She'd never put in the effort to find more friends besides those she'd known at school. She hadn't seen the reason.

Well look at where that got you. How stupid.

But Theo had never given up on her. And two weeks ago, he'd even invited her to spend Christmas with him…

"So tell me, gorgeous, while I am all by my lonesome in Nott Manor, how will the Golden Girl be spending her holiday? Reading an entire section of a library? Running a covert mission to liberate the nymphs in Scotland? Having hot sex with a host of cabana boys on the beach in Mykonos?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, while she scowled back.

"Or cabana girls! I certainly don't judge."

Hermione was still leaning over the shared workspace in one of the sealed decontamination rooms in the DoM, trying to finish the analysis of the dark artifact that had been discovered at a compound in Wales before they ended up stuck in here all night.

"You're insatiable, Theo."

"Quite right, gorgeous, quite right." He smiled back.

"And speaking of: you won't be alone! Didn't you say you were planning a 'sex-a-thon' with Elias from Magical Games and Sports?" She tentatively tapped her wand on the edge of the tarnished crown they were investigating, dodging quickly when sparks flew from one of the gemstones imbedded in the metal.

Hermione made a note on her parchment while Theo spun his wand in his fingers.

"Alas, my dreams of climbing that handsome tree have been dashed. His ex-girlfriend came back into town and he's spending the holiday trying to win her back. So it will just be poor little me, wandering around the drafty halls like Mr. Rothschild from that muggle book you told me read…Jane Skye?"

Hermione laughed, now focused on the diagnostic spell hovering over the crown. "Mr. Rochester, Theo. From Jane Eyre."

"Yes, yes, a masterpiece I'm sure." He waved his wand over the crown, cancelling the diagnostic and using a clever spell he'd created on his own to start breaking the wards protecting the dark magic. Hermione was reminded of just how impressive Theo could be when he actually focused.

"But enough about me. What are you doing over the break? Please do tell me you're going on a sexy beach vacation."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Afraid not, Theo. I think it will just be me, a roast dinner, and some mulled wine watching It's A Wonderful Life in my flat." She shrugged her shoulders, monitoring Theo's spell as it continued to break down the wards, preparing to contain any rogue magic that tried to break free.

Theo's face fell. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. I always spent Christmas with the Weasleys, but with Ron and I…well, I think it could be quite awkward. I figure I'll let the dust settle a bit and let them have Christmas in peace."

Before she'd even finished the last word, Theo's body slammed into her side, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I…I know how hard the holidays can be without the people you love."

Hermione was reminded that Theo's father, the abusive, Voldemort loving arse currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban, had killed his mother when Theo was seven, leaving him all alone. She twisted in his arms to hug him back in apology.

"It's alright, Theo. I'll be just fine."

He leaned back, grasping her shoulders. "You're more than welcome to celebrate with me. I'll even make mulled wine, as long as you let me add a splash or two of Ogden's."

When Hermione balked, he continued. "I mean it, we orphans need to stick together, you know."

Hermione returned his kind gaze with a small smile.

"Thank you, Theo. I really will be fine, but I appreciate the offer."

He brought her back into a hug, before releasing her and moving back to the other side of the table and flicking his wand at the crown, siphoning the dark magic before containing it in one of the DoM's custom-made spell-proof viles.

"Well alright. But, Hermione, please believe me when I say that if you ever need someone to talk to, or get absolutely smashed with, or just a shoulder to cry on, I'm here for you."

She looked up into his dark blue eyes, so earnest even while his face maintained a constant air of mischief.

"Thank you, Theo. Truly."

A shoulder to cry on.

I'm here for you.

We orphans have to stick together.

Hermione leaned back on her heels, still weeping uncontrollably and breathing so fast she was afraid she would pass out.

With shaky legs, she stood up and began stumbling her way toward the door.

If she had been in her right mind, she would not have even considered this. Her stubborn self-reliance would never allow her to just show up at someone's home unannounced asking for help.

But this was as far from her right mind as Hermione had ever been, and her feet were moving of their own accord.

Something told her that she couldn't use the floo. Nott Manor was bound to be surrounded by blood wards, even after it had been decommissioned by the ministry. She'd have to apparate and hope Theo was home.

Stumbling out the front door, Hermione made her way to the gate where her own wards ended. Not even pausing to consider if any muggles might see, she turned on the spot, the crack of apparition squeezing the air from her lungs.

She landed clumsily, barely keeping her feet under her, in front of an impossibly large and foreboding manor somewhere in the countryside.

The part of her brain that had gotten her this far managed to calculate that this was even larger than Malfoy Manor, and far more frightening.

But the thought was fleeting at best. Eyes bleary with tears and still hyperventilating, Hermione quickly climbed up the front steps and reached up to the impressive knocker shaped like a manticore. She rapped three times, before wrapping her arms around herself and leaning forward, desperately trying not to fall apart completely.

After what seemed to Hermione like hours, the door finally cracked open, and she spotted a single dark blue eye peering at her, before Theo, clad casually in a soft jumper, sweatpants, and socks, realized it was her and swung open the door.

"Hermione? What are you—gods, are you alright? What's happened?"

It took all her strength to respond, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

Her voice broke twice on the sentence, and her tears redoubled.

Theo's eyes went wide, and he stepped aside to usher her in.

Hermione stepped into the foyer and began pacing back and forth on what on any other day she would have recognized as an impressive antique rug, but not today.

"Hermione," Theo said in the type of slow, careful voice one might use when confronting a wild animal, "tell me what's wrong. Are you hurt?"

"Ha!" She laughed, shaking her head so quickly it made her dizzy.

"Am I hurt? I'm…yes, I think I am. I don't know what to do now, Theo. I don't know what to do."

The sobs were shaking her whole body.

'Hermione, gorgeous, let's sit down…" Theo put out his arms as if to lead her to the chaise on the opposite wall, but she took two quick steps back before finally lifting her head to stare into Theo's eyes.

"They betrayed me, Theo. They, they humiliated me. My family. They were my family! And now…I don't have anyone left. No one. I don't have any family, Theo. I don't have any friends. I'm alone. I'm alone. I'm all alone." The last words came out as nothing more than a broken whisper, as her knees gave out and she crashed to the floor, no longer able to speak through the wracking sobs.

Theo rushed forward, kneeling down on the carpet and pulling Hermione into a hug, rubbing slow circles on her back and whispering that it would be ok.

His kindness brought a new wave of tears to Hermione's eyes, both from her desperation and the realization that she still had someone she might be able to call a friend.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they sat there on the floor of Theo's entryway. She just knew that he didn't stop hugging her and never asked for an explanation of why she had shown up weeping at his doorstep on Christmas night.

Finally, the tears slowed enough that Hermione was able to get her breathing under control, and she leaned back from Theo's embrace.

"I…I'm so sorry for just showing up like this, Theo. I…I didn't know where else to go."

Theo rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Hey, don't apologize. I'm glad you came."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Do…do you want to talk about what happened? You don't have to, I understand if you don't want to tell me, but if it would help, I'm happy to listen."

Hermione's shoulders slumped forward and she looked down, lightly tracing the intricate pattern of the rug with her fingertip.

"I went to Christmas at The Burrow." She whispered, afraid if she spoke more loudly, she would break down again. "They invited me, told me I was still part of the family and I should c-come." More tears leaked from her eyes as she remembered Molly insisting she join them.

Theo didn't interrupt, he just listened while she recounted the story.

"Ron stood up and announced he was engaged to Daphne Greengrass." Hermione heard Theo's soft intake of breath. She realized that Theo had known Daphne for years, but she kept going anyway.

"He admitted that they'd been seeing each other for two years. That, that he'd been cheating on me for two years. And…Harry knew. He knew that he was cheating on me. And he didn't say anything, Theo. And Ginny knew, and Arthur, and Charlie. Maybe more, I'm not sure. They all knew, Theo, they all knew. My friends, my family, the only people I have…and I don't know what to do now. I don't…I don't think I can ever go back there. I think I lost my entire family tonight. I don't have anyone left."

Hermione took a breath and finally looked up. Theo was still as a statue, his mouth open slightly, and his eyes shining.

When her eyes caught his, he shook his head to regain his composure before speaking.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I can't…I can't believe he would do that to you. That they would all do that to you. How dare they! How dare they! You're Hermione Granger! What the FUCK?! To do this to you…I don't understand." Theo was out of breath by the end and shaking with rage.

Hermione's lip trembled. "I don't understand either. Am I a terrible person, Theo? Did I deserve this?"

Theo's eyes softened immediately, and he pulled her back into a hug, kissing her temple and rubbing her back.

"Oh, sweetheart. Don't you dare think that for a single second. Weasel, Potter and the others, they are the terrible people. Not you. You could never deserve this. No one deserves this. And Daphne fucking Greengrass? She's been a heinous wretch since we were toddlers. Good fucking riddance."

The corners of Hermione's mouth curved into the smallest, briefest smile, before she whispered into his chest, "what do I do now, Theo? I can't go back to my flat, they'll find me there and I…I can't talk to them. Not now. How do I deal with this? How do I live now? With no one…"

Theo pulled back and gently used his fingers to wipe away her tears.

"First things first, you'll stay here as long as you want. I have more than enough room. My house elves return tomorrow, and they can go to your flat to get whatever you need. Just spend some time decompressing, and we can figure out what happens next when you're ready. Ok?"

Hermione's heart squeezed at his kindness. She had barely tried to be his friend, and yet here he was, willing to help her.

She looked down and shook her head. "I don't want to impose, Theo."

"Nonsense. I don't want to hear you say that again. Look around, Hermione, I am breathtakingly rich, you could ask me to buy the crown jewels for you and you wouldn't be imposing." The mischief that always swirled around Theo returned to his eyes.

"Besides, you're my friend, Hermione. This is what you do for friends." He cradled her face in his large, gentle hands.

"You're not alone, Hermione. You're not alone."

Tears ran down her face as she nodded in thanks, leaning her head into Theo's hands.

"Now that's sorted, Are you hungry? Thirsty? Want to take a bath?"

Hermione sighed, exhaustion hitting her hard. "I'd just like to lie down, if that's alright."

Theo got to his feet and held out his hands to help her up.

"Allow me to show you to your bedchambers, milady." Hermione gave him a small smile, despite herself.

Theo led her through the halls of the Manor, until the dim hallway opened into an enormous room with vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and enough art hanging from the walls to qualify as its own museum. In the center was a grand staircase of polished oak, covered in even more antique carpets.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and Theo pointed out his study, potions lab, and one of the libraries, before opening a carved wooden door to an opulent guest bedroom, complete with the largest bed Hermione had seen since she'd been inside Draco's room at Malfoy Manor.

He opened one of the drawers of a heavy wooden dresser that contained some of his old clothes, letting Hermione pick something she could sleep in. He left her to change and wash up while he went to get a glass of water he insisted she drink before going to sleep.

Looking into the gilded mirror in the ensuite bath, Hermione took stock of her appearance for the first time since she left her flat to head to The Burrow.

Her face was red and splotchy, and her eyelids were nearly swollen shut. Her hair was a mess, with some pieces sticking up in all directions and others plastered to her tearstained face.

But it was her eyes that caught Hermione's attention. Looking back at herself she could see just how devastated she appeared. How broken. She wondered briefly it she would always look like this going forward.

Unable to muster the energy to keep thinking, Hermione leaned forward and splashed ice-cold water on her face a few times before using her wand to perform a teeth cleaning charm, and transfiguring one of Theo's undershirts and a pair of his sweatpants to fit her. With a final flick of her wand, she pulled her hair back into a braid and padded back into the room.

Before she made it to the bed, Theo quietly knocked and opened the door, carrying a glass of water in one hand, and a small potion vile in the other.

"I thought you might want a bit of calming draught. To keep you from getting a headache, and to help you fall asleep." He held it out for her to take, setting the water down on the bedside table.

She uncorked the potion and downed it quickly. Anything to help her fall asleep and end this day.

"Thank you, Theo. For everything."

Theo waved his hand dismissively. "I don't want to hear you thank me again, gorgeous. You'll go and give me a complex."

She handed him back the empty vile and sat down on the edge of the bed.

In a gentle voice, Theo asked, "Do you want to be left alone, or would it help if I stayed here with you?"

Hermione's first reaction was to tell him to leave and not trouble himself, but looking into Theo's eyes and seeing such kindness, she decided to be honest instead.

"Could you? Stay, I mean? Just until I fall asleep."

Theo smiled and moved to pull an overstuffed chair and ottoman out from the corner of the room before settling into it.

"Well alright, missy, crawl into that bed and get comfortable." He snapped his fingers and winked.

The potion was beginning to kick in, and she didn't have the energy to do anything but follow his instructions. After settling under the covers, Theo raised his hand to wandlessly turn out the lights.

"Thank yo—" she began—

"Uh uh, what did I say?"

"Fine. Goodnight, Theo." She relented.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered into the darkness, "don't worry, we're going to figure this out."

She wasn't sure if it was the calming draught, emotional exhaustion, or the sincerity of his words, but as she closed her eyes and tried to shut out the events of the day, she realized that she believed him.

Chapter Text

May, Fifth Year

The small scroll had arrived with the morning post. Hermione wasn't expecting another letter from her parents until next week, and since they were the only ones to ever send her anything in the mail, she cracked the wax seal with trepidation.

Just three lines were written inside in elegant calligraphy.

Ms. Granger,

I need to speak with both of you. It's urgent. Be in the place you meet at 8pm tonight.

NBM

Fear lanced through her. If Narcissa was writing her, especially in such cryptic manner, it must be serious. Hermione chanced a glance across the Great Hall and met Draco's eyes. He was holding an identical scroll and staring back at her with concern etched across his face.

They both arrived at the Room of Requirement at 7pm, far too anxious to wait any longer. Draco had been hunched on the couch for the last hour while Hermione paced across the room.

"What could this be about, Draco?" She'd asked at least ten times now, but she couldn't stop, her mind was flitting through too many possibilities.

"Do you think your father found out about us?"

Draco ran his hands through his platinum hair and shook his head. "Trust me, if Lucius found out, he would have come bursting through the castle doors himself."

"Something else then? About Vold—" Hermione stopped when Draco's fearful eyes snapped to her. He couldn't stand to hear his name.

"About You Know Who?" She finished quietly.

"I think it must be.." He replied, a sense of solemn resignation in his voice.

They both knew that a war was coming, and that to the outside world it appeared that they were on opposite sides. Before Hermione's panic could spiral out of control, the large fireplace in front of them flashed green, revealing the perfectly quaffed head of Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione and Draco both scrambled up and dropped to their knees in front of the hearth. She was smiling kindly at them, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

Draco spoke first, terror in his tone. "Mum, what's going on?"

"Hello to you too, Draco," Narcissa replied in a chastising tone before turning to Hermione. "Hello dear, it's so wonderful to see you." Warmth warred with the other emotions in Hermione's chest to hear her loving words.

"Mum, please. Tell us what's happening." Draco pleaded, frustration breaking through.

Narcissa turned back to him and her eyes softened before she took a deep breath and lowered her voice.

"Something is about to happen…with the Dark Lord."

Hermione and Draco instinctively reached for the other's hand, squeezing tightly.

"I don't know much, your father and the others are keeping it a secret. But it's going to be big. An attack, a public declaration of war, I don't know…something that changes everything." Hermione's mind was reeling. She had to warn the Order, or Dumbledore, or Harry…

"When?"

Narcissa turned toward her. "I don't know. I don't think they do either. But you need to be careful—far more careful than you've been in the past. If the Dark Lord comes out of the shadows and the war truly begins…you'll be a target, Hermione." Draco turned toward her, his eyes running up and down her body as if to check that she was still whole and unharmed.

Narcissa continued, her voice speeding up. "And if your relationship is revealed, the consequences will be dire. They'll make an example out of you. Both of you." Narcissa's concerned eyes turned back to Draco, her only son, and unshed tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Panic gripped Hermione. She couldn't put Draco at risk like this. It was far too selfish.

"Listen to me. I will do everything in my power to learn more. To stop whatever I can." She locked eyes again with Hermione, "You are part of my family, Hermione. I protect my family." A tear escaped Hermione's eye and rolled down her face.

Narcissa opened her mouth to say more, but then her head whipped to the side and fear rose on her face. "Someone's here, I have to go. I love you, be safe." And with that, the flames disappeared.

Immediately, Hermione let out a shuddering breath and began to cry openly. Draco turned toward her, cradling her face between his hands.

"I can't do this, Draco. If they…If you…We have to stop seeing…" She couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

Draco was already shaking his head, a fierce determination entering his eyes.

"Stop. That's not how this works. We're going to get through this—together. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise."

"I'm not worried about me, Draco. I'm worried about you." She covered his hands with her own, desperation lacing her words.

He leaned forward, tenderly kissing both of her tearstained cheeks.

"This is not how our story ends, love. I can feel it. You're it for me. I love you so much."

Hermione's face crumpled with emotion as she whispered back, "You're it for me too, Draco. I love you."

"Then nothing else matters."

Draco gathered her in his arms and whispered the words that mattered most to them both: "amor vincit omnia."

Hermione leaned into his touch, basking in the feeling of love and safety. But the sinking feeling in her gut never abated. The countdown clock they had both known was hanging over their heads had begun to tick down, and sooner or later, their lives would come crashing down with it.

2001, Nott Manor

Hermione couldn't remember how she'd gotten here. Even though she spent half of her time at the Department of Mysteries, the only time she'd ever been in this ominous, circular room surrounded by doors had been in fifth year when they came to retrieve Harry's prophecy.

She turned in a slow circle, realizing she had no idea how to get back out. Her only option was to try each door.

Walking forward with confidence, she threw open the door closest to her.

She gasped and jumped back when the room beyond revealed Ron passionately kissing Daphne before pushing her down on the bed in Hermione and Ron's flat.

Hermione stood frozen, transfixed by the image, until Ron looked up at her and said, indignantly, "Godric, Hermione, who do you think you are? Give us some privacy!"

Hermione wrenched the door closed with a slam, before the room began to spin.

Once the floor stopped moving, Hermione ran to the door across from her, desperately seeking a way out.

But this time, the room was revealed to be the well-worn kitchen at The Burrow, with Harry and the entire Weasley family seated around the table, laughing uproariously.

Harry removed his glasses to wipe them clean of amused tears while he continued a story.

"But really, can you believe it?! She really thinks we're friends! Can you imagine? Me? Friends with that insufferable bitch? Who the hell does she think she is?"

The table erupted in laughter, and Hermione saw Molly lean into Arthur as she waved a dishtowel in amusement.

"Well dear, it was a good dare, to see how long we could convince her that we cared! Ten years! I'll have to make a cake to celebrate!"

Hermione tried to speak, tried to yell or fight back, but she found that no sound came out when she opened her mouth. Without warning, she was flung out of the kitchen and back into the circular room that was spinning once again, even faster now.

Trying to regain her bearings, Hermione crawled around the walls to a third door, convinced this time she'd be able to escape.

Her heart sank when she opened it only to realize that it was the waiting room adjacent to the Wizengamot trial chambers. The room where Draco had left her, once and for all, three years ago.

He stood in the far corner of the room gazing out the window, still dressed in the same Azkaban robes he'd been wearing when he met her here, moments after her testimony had led to his pardon.

She itched to reach for him, to fall into his arms and breathe him in, but she couldn't move. It was as if someone had put a permanent sticking charm on the bottoms of her feet.

Slowly, Draco turned to face her, his features schooled into a look of disappointment.

"I told you, Hermione." He shook his head, bringing his fingers up to press into his eyes.

"Don't you see how this happened? Why it happened?"

All Hermione could muster was a slow shake of her head.

Draco sighed.

"It's because of you, Hermione. It's your fault. You were never meant to be loved. You were always meant to be alone. It's who you are."

His words felt like slices from a sword, and Hermione began desperately yanking at her legs to free them. Anything to get out of this room and away from his declarations.

"No one will ever love you, Hermione. No one. I certainly didn't…"

Draco flicked his hand in her direction in dismissal, and suddenly she was being dragged back out into the center of the spinning room.

It was going too fast now. The world seemed to be tilting. She was going to fall into nothingness, and all she could hear were their echoed words.

Who do you think you are?

That insufferable bitch.

It was a good dare.

No one will ever love you, Hermione.

I certainly didn't.

A scream erupted from Hermione's chest as the whole world faded to black.

Suddenly, her whole body jerked up and her eyes opened into a dark bedroom. She didn't understand. Where was she? What was that sound? Who was screaming?

"Hermione! Hermione! It's ok, its ok, you're safe."

Her eyes began to focus, and she could see a pair of deep blue eyes staring into her own as hands locked tightly around her arms.

Something was shaking. Someone was still screaming.

"Shhh, shhh Hermione, it was just a dream. You're ok. Here, drink this."

The figure with the blue eyes lifted an herbal-smelling vile to her lips, tipping it into her mouth. Some part of her mind realized it was a dose of Dreamless Sleep.

Before she could comprehend what had happened, the figure was laying her down on a soft surface, and whispering to her to close her eyes, to get some sleep…

Hermione wasn't sure how long she had slept, but when she woke up next it was to the sounds of whispers outside her door.

She slowly opened her eyes and strained to hear the conversation, finally remembering where she was and how she'd gotten here.

"You can't just leave her in there, Theo." A steady female voice said. It sounded familiar.

"I'm not just leaving her in there, I'm giving her time." Hermione recognized Theo's voice, even though it sounded rougher, more exhausted than she remembered.

"It's been over 24 hours, Theo. She needs to eat." The voice replied. Hermione's brain seemed sluggish…who was that? It was so familiar. Parvati? No, that couldn't be right, the voice was far too calm. Padma, it must be Padma.

"I've always found a good bath to be quite rejuvenating. Helps to clear the head of wrackspurts and recharge the aura." That voice Hermione would know anywhere. Luna.

"Mate, you can't keep Hermione Granger stowed away in a room in your manor. Someone is bound to claim that you've kidnapped her." An unrecognizable male voice chimed in.

"Blaise's right, Theo." A bored female voice responded. Blaise? Blaise…Zabini?

"I haven't kidnapped her! She's my friend, and she's welcome to stay as long as she likes."

"You're very kind, Theo," Luna trilled, "your aura is quite magnificent."

"…thanks, Luna."

"Let Luna and I go in and help get her up, maybe get her into a bath, and then we'll go from there, ok?" That was Padma again, always the voice of reason.

Hermione's mind drifted away from the conversation. She didn't feel like she could move. She wasn't even really sure she was awake.

Suddenly, two pairs of soft hands we're gently lifting Hermione's body.

"Come now, Hermione, let's get you into a bath. You're positively surrounded by wrackspurts."

"We've got you, Hermione. It's alright."

Hermione was only aware of pieces of what happened next. She remembered being slowly lifted into warm water, and seeing Luna's halo of white gold hair surrounding her as she carefully washed Hermione's hair.

She thought it had been Padma who helped her to get redressed, and who sat on the corner of the bed helping her eat a few bites of oatmeal.

Or maybe it was all a dream.

The next time Hermione woke, her head was a bit clearer. Early evening sun was streaming in through the windows, and she brought her hands up to shield her still-sensitive eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

Hermione turned her head toward that same bored female voice, instinctively searching around for her wand when she realized who was sitting in the armchair next to her bed.

"P-Pansy?"

She flourished her arms down her perfectly put together frame. "In the flesh."

Hermione was on edge. What was Pansy Parkinson doing in her bedroom?

Her confusion must have shown in her eyes, because Pansy gave a dismissive laugh.

"Calm down, Granger. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you." She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated by Hermione's expression.

"Help me? What do you mean, help me? You hate me." Hermione sat up a bit more, her muscles aching.

"Honestly, for the brightest witch of her age, you can be quite dense. I don't hate you Granger, we're not children anymore. Besides, hating you would quite upset my girlfriend, and I make a point not to cause her any pain."

Luna, Hermione thought. Pansy was dating Luna. In fact, they'd been together for two years now. Hermione tried to shake her head clear of the fog still slowing her down. Of course Pansy had changed, Luna wouldn't be dating her if she hadn't.

"Right. So…you're here to…help me?" Hermione responded, dragging out each word.

"As a matter of fact, I am. You see, it turns out you and I have quite a bit in common. We've both been betrayed by our families and tossed out on our asses." Pansy spoke with a matter-of-fact tone that took Hermione by surprise.

Hermione looked back at her in confusion.

"Sit back, Granger, let me tell you a story…"

Pansy stretched out her slim legs and took a deep breath.

"I realized I was only interested in witches when I was nine, but as the pureblood heir to my family's fortune, I knew that I could never tell anyone. I knew that I was destined to be married off to make heirs and help my parents gain political power."

Pansy shook her head at the memory.

"By the time we started fourth year, my father was already in talks with several families about marriage contracts, and I started to panic. I was terrified of being married off to some middle-aged baron from the continent, sent away never to be heard from again. So, I created a plan. Draco already knew about my sexuality, and I knew he was no more enthused about being forced into an arranged marriage than I was, so we made a deal. We would pretend to date each other to keep our parents from pursuing other marital options, until we were old enough to figure out how to avoid the process entirely."

Hermione knew this already. In fact, she was the one who talked Draco into keeping the rouse going in the Spring of their fourth year, figuring it would be an easy cover to keep their relationship a secret.

She schooled her features into neutrality and remained silent as Pansy continued.

"When the war started, things got…bad. I was scared and I thought that maybe, maybe if I told my parents the truth, that their love for me would overpower their allegiance to the Dark Lord. That maybe we could all escape together."

Pansy's eyes grew misty and distant for a moment, before she shook her head and regained her composure.

"But I was wrong. They told me I was to never speak of it again, and that if I wanted to remain a part of the family I would keep my mouth shut and marry who they chose. Quite the mindfuck, to realize that my parents cared more about a nose-less half-blood than their own daughter… When the war ended, nothing changed, and as soon as the dust settled, they informed me that I was to be married to a fifty-year-old Lord from Albania. A thrice-widowed Lord."

Pansy raised her hands in air quotes, clearly indicating that those former wives had not died of natural causes.

"I refused. I told them that the world had changed and it was time we changed with it. They kicked me out of the house that afternoon and changed the wards to make sure I could never return."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She knew how closely pureblood families—especially those in the Sacred Twenty-Eight—clung to their traditions, but she couldn't believe they would go so far as to disown their only child. Hell, when Narcissa learned that Draco loved Hermione, she'd welcomed her with open arms and done everything she could to protect their relationship.

But clearly Pansy's parents hadn't cared enough to put aside their beliefs.

"Pansy, I'm so sorry," Hermione responded quietly.

Pansy waved a dismissive hand.

"I have no need for your pity, Granger. I'm telling you this for a reason. See, after my parents kicked me out, I came here to stay with Theo, and I realized something that changed my life.

It doesn't matter who they are—your parents, your best friend, your partner—if they treat you badly, if they don't love you for who you are, they don't matter. Their opinion doesn't matter. Fuck 'em. You go and live exactly how you want to, build your life into something you find beautiful, no matter how it looks to other people. The only people that matter are the ones who will love you unconditionally, no matter what."

She ended her speech staring fiercely into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione stared back, stunned by what she'd just heard.

"Pansy…I don't—I don't know if I can do that. I've never been very good at not caring what other people think." Hermione cast her eyes down, embarrassed by her weakness.

"Eh, of course you can. You're Hermione Granger, Golden Girl. You can do whatever the fuck you want. And I can help you."

Hermione snapped her head back up, looking at Pansy with a mixture of confusion and horror.

"You? Why would you help me?"

"Because no one should have to go through this alone," she responded in that same, matter-of-fact tone, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Besides, Theo and Luna both love you, so that must mean you've got something going for you. Which is why I am here to offer my services." She tilted her head forward in a mock bow.

Hermione just stared back, stunned into silence.

"Take some time to think about it. In the meantime…" Pansy rose gracefully from her chair and headed to the door. "I'm going to tell Theo you're awake and need some dinner. You look like shit."

And with that, the enigma that was Pansy Parkinson walked out the door.

Hermione was beginning to feel marginally more like herself.

Theo had knocked on her door an hour after Pansy left, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of stew, fresh baked bread, and wine, informing her that his house elves (freed house elves, he emphasized) had been falling all over themselves to cook for "The Miss Hermione Granger."

With a full stomach, plus a little help from another dose from Theo's Dreamless Sleep stash, she'd gotten a full night's rest, and awoken the next morning to find a tray piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, kippers, toast, and a full pot of coffee hovering above her bed.

When Rosie, Theo's longest-serving elf, returned to retrieve the plates, she informed Hermione that she and her husband Puff had retrieved much of her clothing, some books, and all of her pending research notes from her flat and left it all for her in the room.

By early afternoon, she was almost ready to leave the safety of her bed and venture out to find Theo, when she suddenly heard doors slamming and yelling coming from down the stairs.

"I know she's here, and I want to see her. NOW." With a jolt, Hermione realized that the voice was coming from George Weasley.

How had he found her? Hermione hauled herself out of the bed and creeped out the door and down the hall toward the stairs, where the voices were coming from.

"I don't know what the hell you're on about, mate, but if you don't get out of my house, I promise that you will not like the consequences," came Theo's icy reply.

George let out a frustrated yell.

"I didn't know! Tell her I didn't know. And that I could kill him for what he did. Please, please let me talk to her."

Theo's voice softened in response. "Look, she'll talk to you when she's ready…"

"Those motherfuckers…my fucking family, betrayed her. But I won't. I want to talk to her. Just tell her I'm here, please Nott."

"I'll tell her to contact you, but you need to—"

"Theo, it's ok." Hermione stepped out from the hallway, peering down at the standoff happening at the bottom of the stairs. "Hello, George."

"Hermione, thank Merlin. Please, let me talk to you. Let me apologize. Let me tell you what I know."

Hermione was torn. She didn't feel ready to talk to anyone, but that inquisitive part of her that craved knowledge and information desperately wanted to know what he meant by "what I know."

Her curious nature won out. With a sigh, she nodded her head and slowly made her way down the stairs.

"Theo, is there somewhere George and I can talk? Privately."

Theo looked her up and down, trying to gauge her mental state. "Are you sure, Hermione?"

She nodded and reached out to squeeze his arm. "Yes, I'm sure."

"There's a sitting room down the hall, second door on your right. I'll wait out here." He gestured to one of the ornate chaises in the room.

Hermione nodded and began walking toward the sitting room, with George trailing close behind.

If any of the Weasleys had to find her, she was glad it was George. They'd grown close over the last two years, connecting the way only two individuals who'd lost the most important people in their lives could. She wanted desperately to think that George was being honest when he said that he hadn't known about Ron.

She opened the door to the room before walking to the far end and settling on yet another antique couch. She'd have to go through this manor and catalogue how many priceless pieces of furniture Theo had just sitting around…

George sat down in a chair across from her, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. It was then that Hermione realized his knuckles were bruised and bloody.

George saw her looking and flexed his hands. "Beat the shit out of Ron yesterday. Pretty sure I broke his nose, maybe his jaw, too…got a few good shots in on Harry as well before Ginny stunned me."

"George…" Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "What are you doing here?"

George looked up, staring at her with sadness radiating from his every pore.

"I had to talk to you, Hermione. I had to apologize in person. I had to make sure you knew that I had no idea about Ron. If I had, I would have dragged him in front of you by the balls and held him at wand point until he admitted it. I…I cannot believe that he did this to you. That they knew about it and didn't…" He trailed off and shook his head in disbelief. "I don't even know who they are anymore. Please, please Hermione, believe me when I tell you that I didn't know."

He looked pleadingly at Hermione, and even though she was still questioning her ability to spot the lies in her life, something about the absolute sincerity in his words, the lack of even an ounce of George's signature humor, felt like the truth.

Looking back into his green eyes, Hermione released a breath she'd been holding since she heard his voice from her room. "I believe you, George."

His shoulders sagged. Relief echoing through his body.

"I'm so angry, Hermione. I don't think I've ever been this angry. I keep going over it in my head, trying to figure out what happened, when he changed. When he became a fucking monster. I promise you I'll never see him again. Never talk to any of them again."

"George. They're your family. They love you. I…I would never ask you, never expect you to stop speaking to them."

George looked up at Hermione, tears filling his eyes. "You see! Look at you! You just found out that the person who said he loved you spent the last two years fucking some mindless bint behind your back, that your best friend let him do it, and yet here you are, sacrificing yourself to make sure I don't get hurt!? You are the single most loving person I have ever met, Hermione. The fact that anyone would ever do this to you is just…its unthinkable." George deflated, hanging his head in his hands.

"I don't understand either, George." She whispered back, fresh tears falling quietly down her cheeks.

When George looked up, his face crumpled at the sight of Hermione's anguish, and he immediately sprang up to cross to her side of the room. Remembering himself, he stopped a half step away from where Hermione sat.

"Can I hug you?" He asked quietly.

Hermione just nodded, and George fell onto the sofa, gathering her into a crushing embrace.

They sat like that for a while, silently crying together, before George spoke again.

"I didn't just come to apologize, Hermione."

She leaned back in his arms, looking questioningly at his face.

"I've spent the last two days figuring out who knew what when, and if you'd like me to tell you, I can."

Hermione's heart stopped and the air seemed to woosh from her body. Did she want to know? No. Did she need to know? Yes. Could she handle the truth? She wasn't sure.

She nodded slowly, preparing herself. "Ok," she said, barely a whisper.

George took a deep breath and sat back, taking Hermione's hands in his.

"Mum, Percy, Fleur and I didn't know. Percy left shortly after you did and hasn't spoken to anyone since. Mum…she was angry. So angry. But after a while, and I fucking hate telling you this, but after a while, she told Ron that it was ok, that she was happy that he found someone he loved so much." George's mouth pinched in disgust.

"Bill only found out a few days ago from Ron, and Ron didn't tell him the full story. Bill figured that Ron had probably started up with Daphne while you were together, but he had no idea it had gone on for so long. I've never seen Fleur scream at him like she did afterward. Dad and Charlie found out six months ago."

Hermione flinched. So they had both known for months while she was still with Ron. A new fissure formed in her heart.

George squeezed her hands. "They both told Ron he had to tell you. Both said how disappointed they were in him. But they felt like it was his responsibility to share it with you, they didn't want to interfere."

Hermione forced a humorless laugh. "Well, good for them."

"Harry…" George started, sounding pained to even say his name.

Hermione looked up, terrified. This is what she had been waiting for. George seemed to steel himself.

"He's known for over a year."

Hermione heard the words reverberating through her skull. It felt like her every cell in her body was vibrating. It was so much worse than she thought.

"A year?" She whispered in confirmation.

George nodded slowly. "Do you want to know more? I can tell you, but its fucking awful."

What could be more awful than this? Hermione wasn't sure if she could even feel it anymore.

She nodded. "Tell me."

"He found them together. Walked in on them, well, you know. In a broom closet in the DMLE. Ron chased after him and told him some sob story about how important you were to him but that he just didn't love you like that anymore. He…broke down and told Harry that you were too fragile after your parents' death and he was afraid that you'd do something reckless if he told you. He said…forgive me, Hermione, he said that the two of you hadn't been…intimate in over a year."

When Hermione's eyes snapped up to his in shock, he shook his head. "I knew he was lying, the twat. Said that he just wanted to help you, and that he was waiting for the right moment because he 'didn't want to hurt you.' Harry, the motherfucker, said ok. Hugged him and said ok, that he understood and that Ron could handle it how he felt was best. He told Ginny that night, and she agreed not to say anything either."

Hermione's head was spinning. Harry hadn't even tried. Hadn't pushed back on Ron's paper-thin lies. Hadn't stood up to defend her, to tell him that she wasn't fragile and that she deserved to know. He hadn't had a single ounce of respect for her or her feelings.

Draco was right.

She shook the thought away and looked back at George. "Wow," was all she could muster in response.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't want to tell you, I hate this so much, but…I thought you deserved to know."

She nodded. He was right, she did deserve to know, no matter how awful the truth was, she deserved to know it.

"It's ok, George. Thank you. I appreciate you telling me the truth. More than you know."

He squeezed her hands again, before wrapping her back in hug.

"I need you to know how much I value your friendship, Hermione. How much it's meant to me to have you to talk to these past few years. I never want to lose that. Ever. I'm on your side, always. There is no other side." He kissed her on the top of her head, squeezing her tightly.

"You won't lose me George. Thank you for telling me the truth. For being the only one who did."

George released her and nodded his head, sadly.

"I should head back to the shop. Please come over whenever you want to talk, Hermione. Send me an owl, anything. Ok?"

She looked into his eyes, eyes that had seen far too much for his age, eyes that had been forced to see the darkest depths of agony. She saw the same pain reflected in herself now.

"I will, George, I promise."

He got up and slowly made his way to the door.

"George?"

He turned back to her.

"Please don't tell anyone where I am. I…I'm not ready to see any of them"

He smiled sadly. "My lips are sealed, I promise. You should know, though. Harry, Ginny, and Ron have been to your flat a few times looking for you. Sent you a few letters, too. They've been getting quite anxious to speak to you…"

Hermione let his words sink in. "Well, I guess they'll have to learn to be anxious, then."

George gave the first glimpse of a real smile. "Damn right, Mione."

He gave her a final nod before heading out the door.

Hermione sat stock still for a moment, letting all of George's revelations sink in.

She was devastated. So, so devastated about it all. But there was something else, some other feeling buried deep inside of her. She focused on it, tracing it down to the root to figure out what that tiny spark of feeling could be.

Anger.

She was angry.

As soon as she identified it, it was as if a match caught and the spark turned into a flame. An inferno.

How dare they. How dare they do this to her.

She didn't deserve this. She was better than this.

She was Hermione fucking Granger.

And she wasn't going to let them break her.

With a new determination she'd never felt before, Hermione launched herself off the couch and pounded back into the grand room where she'd left Theo. She found who she was looking for sitting across from him, her sleek black hair perfectly framing her face as she gracefully held a book in her hand.

Theo jumped up, but Hermione barely saw him.

"Pansy?" Hermione said with far more force than she intended.

Instead of startling, Pansy looked up slowly, a smirk playing on her face.

Hermione looked back, fire in her eyes. "Fuck 'em."

Pansy closed the book with a snap as her smirk widened into a real grin.

She nodded in return. "Fuck 'em."

Clapping her hands together, she stood from the chair and grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"Let's get started."

She marched Hermione back up the stairs, leaving Theo standing, mouth agape, in their wake.