! This chapter is written from Hermione's perspective !

- The Hospital Wing, 25th of June 1995 -

Hermione awoke with a start, breathing heavily. A part of her hoped that last night's events had been nothing more than fragments of a dreadful nightmare. But the fact that she was looking up at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, rather than the canopy of her four-poster bed in the Slytherin girl dorms, confirmed her biggest fears.

Draco.

She whispered his name in her mind, a silent plea for him to answer her. But reaching out for him through the bond they shared was a stark reminder that she could no longer feel him. All that answered her was a chilling void that seeped deep into her bones.

Someone seemed to have left a sweater for her beside her bed, and she slipped it over her pyjamas. Not that it helped fight off the shivers running down her spine.

She snuck towards Draco's bed, the Hospital Wing seemingly vacated from any visitors right now. But her steps had not been silent enough. Madam Pomfrey intercepted her when she attempted to get past the privacy screen to see him.

The mediwitch insisted he needed rest and should not be disturbed. She claimed no one but his family could visit… Hermione was not his family. That simple truth hit her like a ton of bricks. The bond they once shared was severed. But she was still heiress Malfoy. About to brandish her family ring, Narcissa appeared beside her and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

"I need to confirm with my own eyes that he is perfectly safe," Hermione defied Madam Pomfrey, strengthened by Narcissa's support.

Not even Madam Pomfrey could ignore the determination in her eyes. "No more than two visitors at once," the healer told them as she moved the screen slightly and let them in.

Lady Malfoy-Black brushed away the tears from Hermione's cheeks, her own eyes glistening, as both of them took in Draco's broken form.

If it hadn't been for Luna bringing Fawkes' tears… She didn't even want to think about it. But what did intrigue her about last night, was the curious change in Draco's skin once his wounds started to heal. She'd seen those silver scales shimmering on his skin once before, back in first year, when Norberta-

"I've come to visit him a few times during the night, but he hasn't woken up yet," Narcissa whispered, breaking the heavy silence. "Are you sure you want to see him like this? The curse inflicted serious damage to his body… It will take a while to heal."

Hermione's heart clenched when she remembered how he had collapsed next to her in a lifeless heap as dark magic clawed away at his chest, a curse so foul that it would literally consume its victim. It made her stomach churn with unease.

She would be forever grateful for the sacrifice that Draco had made for her, but part of her wished that he hadn't. Jumping in front of an unknown curse was extremely dangerous. He could have ended up dying…

He nearly had.

"I'll stay with him," Hermione assured Narcissa. "You should rest after what you suffered yesterday night. He won't be alone as long as I stay with him."

Looking at Draco again, she noticed he looked so frail. More pale than usual. His breathing was shallow and laboured. Dark circles weighed heavy under his eyes. His lips were chapped and had that same sickly pale colour as his skin. Even his pale blond hair had turned a dull grey.

Narcissa thanked her and smiled gratefully before she closed the privacy curtain, leaving them in the quiet magical bubble around his hospital bed. There was nothing for his mum to be grateful about, the brunette thought bitterly. She should have been the one lying here. Not him.

When Hermione settled into the chair next to his bed, she had to fight the urge to lean over and check if his heart was still beating. He was alive, she told herself. Even if he was gone.

A shiver ran down her spine again, her feelings swirling within her.

Cold.

Empty.

Lonely.

Her own feelings had mirrored his. She'd felt the magic between them sever right after he took that curse for her. It was as if she was nothing but a fragment of herself, incomplete and adrift. She thought she'd been hit by a stray spell after all and that her own magic was being dragged out of her. Now she understood that it was his magic that had disappeared. When he kept lashing out with his magic, desperately trying to find something to hold onto, she immediately knew that he was looking for her.

Hermione snorted, remembering she once thought that the bond was nothing but a mere fluke. A mistake. After all, once Director Ragnok informed her that she was no longer married, her magic still felt the same. It hadn't shifted one bit. The texts she'd read on marriage vows described that breaking a bond was never truly possible unless a hidden clause was triggered. It was evident now why she'd felt nothing that day. Their marriage might have been dissolved, but their bond never was. He had promised more than marriage to Gryffindor-Hermione. He'd promised to protect her with his life.

A life-bond. That had been the true nature of their connection.

That's how that stupid blond ferret beside her had tried to set her free. But he hadn't realised the repercussions of what it would do to her, what it would do to them when he finally gave his life for her. The pain and emptiness she had anticipated feeling when he broke their marriage finally hit her in full force. The bond between them had never been weak or vulnerable.

But now… Now it was nonexistent.

Tentatively, she reached out with her magic, trying to connect with his. But even the faintest trace of his magic felt distant and muted. His magical core was so battered and bruised that there was barely anything left to feel.

Holding Draco's hand, she didn't dare to squeeze it. Feeling his bones so close to his skin made her think she'd break him. He was so fragile. If only she could transfer some of her magic into him. If she could pour life back into him…

"Don't," Deandra's voice echoed in her mind. "He would want you to recover from last night's ordeal. You should both rest. Being here with him is enough for now."

Was it truly enough? Couldn't she do at least something?

" You can attempt to talk to him," the spirit suggested softly. "But be cautious to not use too much of your own magic to enter his mind. Let me aid you, little one ."

Hermione concentrated and felt the subtle brush of Deandra's magic at Draco's fingertips, inviting her in. With a twinge of sadness, she realised that the spirit was the only bridge between them now. The sole reminder of the bond they once shared.

Her body relaxed and anyone who came to look for the two Slytherins would think they were merely asleep. But in reality, the brunette's consciousness seeped into Draco's.

The mindscape that greeted her was a stark contrast to her previous visit. A horrified gasp escaped her lips as she observed the devastation before her. Draco's mental image was as battered and bruised as she assumed his magical core was. His mind was in ruins, and the drawing room door that had been protected so strongly last time, was the only thing that had remained intact, the rest of the Manor crumbling around him.

His still form was slumped against the doors. Even when Draco was on the brink of death, he still attempted to keep that one secret safe with all of his leftover strength.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Hermione walked over to him and sat down beside him. Draco's head hung low, indicating that even in his mind he was exhausted and completely out of it. That he was still recovering.

"Can he hear me?" Hermione wondered as she rested her head upon his shoulder. Even being close to him could not bring the feeling of his magic back to her.

Deandra appeared in front of them, her silver glow providing at least a little bit of warmth in Draco's broken-down mind. "He can hear us," the spirit confirmed as she sat down in front of them. "Just don't expect him to respond. He needs time to heal."

The Slytherin witch nodded silently and took her best friend's hand in hers, her fingers intertwining with Draco's. She marvelled at how small her hands were compared to his. She nearly choked up when she studied his broken soul sitting beside her. She regretted not revealing that she knew what he'd sacrificed for her. Perhaps, if they'd been honest with each other, this wouldn't have happened. If the bond between them wasn't broken, her magic might have kept him safe, just like his had protected hers many times before.

"I've been keeping secrets from you too, Draco. I didn't only find out about the marriage vow between us," Hermione confessed to his still form. She chose to ignore the surprised look in Deandra's eyes. "When you told me yesterday that you rewrote the stars for me, I already knew you had."

She recounted the discovery of the vow during the summer between their second and third year, and explained in detail what had happened that day. A blush spread on her face when she admitted that she thought he didn't want to be married to her. But she figured if she had to spend her whole life with someone magic had deemed her equal, then of course it would be him. She confided in him that she thought the marriage vow had been nothing more than a fluke because it had not affected her the day it got broken. Hermione also mentioned her anger, grief, and frustration at his actions. Finally, she spilled one of the last two secrets that she carried in her heart.

"The night Polarys and Castor were born, when you and I were waiting in the common room, I met her. The same Hermione your Boggart revealed. I always assumed you were afraid something would happen to me in the future. But when I touched the time-turner around your neck, and the spell your real wife put on it activated…" She took a deep breath. "I realised that your fear of me being hurt was rooted in the fact that you'd witnessed me dying before, in another life. You were never married to me. Not to this incarnation of me anyway. Somehow, you did the impossible. You poured enough magic into a time-turner to go back nearly seven years. You came back to save her. To save me. And I will forever be grateful for that," she whispered.

"But attempting to dissolve the marriage vow between us, without consulting me, was reckless. She was even mad at you for doing so," Hermione huffed in annoyance. "I understand now that the vow was never nullified. You just shifted its focus. So when you shielded me from your father's curse, the magic in the vow activated. The life-bond between us was shattered because you chose my life over yours."

Hermione shivered, the cold intensifying now that she was recounting last night's events. "When you got hit by that curse, I could feel you leaving me. I always thought that all of the magic that I carried with me was my own. Until you nearly died, and I understood that part of it had always been yours. I could feel all of it, just as you described. The threads between us were snapped and I nearly fainted from the force with which you were taken from me. I felt so cold. So lonely. I couldn't help but wonder if that is how your mother felt when your father… I can't believe anyone would break a bond willingly… I thought I had lost you forever."

She paused, needing a moment to collect herself. Deandra watched her intently, as emotions flickered across Hermione's face. "To think you were prepared to face death, just so I could be free," she said, a tinge of awe mixed with disbelief in her voice. "You should never have made that bargain to get out of the vow. Only you would think that a life-bond is a better compromise than a marriage vow. You do realise that you would have been stuck with me until my last breath, while I would have been free to do whatever I pleased if you never had to fulfil your debt?"

Finally choking up, a lonely tear fell down her cheek. "When I felt your magic lashing out and trying to grab onto anything in despair, I knew you were looking for me, even if I couldn't feel you anymore. I still can't feel you. All I feel is loneliness," she whispered, curling in on herself. "Cold. Like I'm half of a whole."

Deandra gently moved towards her. "Oh my sweet child," she whispered, cradling Hermione in her arms. "Draco has always done what he thought was best for you. He never wanted anything more than for you to be happy and free. To live your life as you choose it."

She hiccupped, looking up at the spirit through her unshed tears. "But what if I choose him? The bond may be broken but… I can't… I don't want to be without him. My feelings remain unchanged. It was never just the bond that drew me to him, it was who he is, my best friend, my… She loved him without the bond, and so do I!"

Hermione's magic rippled out of her in angry waves, reacting to her inner turmoil, and making the silver chains behind her rattle loudly before one of them snapped and disintegrated in a swirl of silver before it could hit them.

Both the spirit and the witch looked at the door in surprise and studied it, the secret within looming over Hermione like a shadow.

Deandra's voice was tinged with sadness. "He feared you would hate him if he showed you what lies behind this door. He worried about the consequences too. If anyone would be able to get into your mind before the war is over… So many lives could be lost," she said solemnly.

"Like mine," Hermione whispered. "Just like his Boggart showed. He was afraid that I would die again."

"Mione," Deandra said firmly, yet caring. "You mustn't think like that. You won't die. This is the reason why he came back. So he could change your fate."

"Some things are always meant to happen," Hermione breathed. That's what his boggart had said to him, hadn't it? She just never realised what it truly meant. What if the creature was right? What if even after all of this, she would still… Die?

Fear for both her own safety, as well as Draco's and Harry's, took hold of her. If she wanted to truly help him, even before she got her memories back, she needed to know the truth. There would be no use in either one of them dying simply because they hadn't been honest with each other.

Her heart filled with resolve and determination. Hermione stood up to face the door behind Draco. "Show me," she implored him, trying to keep her voice steady. "You promised you would. I'm done with being yours to protect. From now on, we will protect each other. But to do that, I need to know everything."

Draco must have actually heard her, even if his body didn't move an inch. The silver chains and the heavy lock guarding the drawing room door vanished like thin air.

Hermione made sure not to disturb the blond before she gently nudged the door open. The secret he had been keeping unfolded before her as she stepped through. There, a memory of her Gryffindor self dying, confirmed her biggest fears. She had to resist the urge to run and help her. This was only a spectre of the past after all. Her fate had long since been decided. His wife must have always known this would be the end of her… After all, the spell she'd put on the time-turner had worked and brought a younger, Slytherin version of herself to her.

Merlin, she looked horrible. More ghastly than when they met through the spell. It was as if she'd been starving herself for months. It was nearly the same image as the one she'd seen in her third year when Draco faced off against his boggart.

Harry, oh sweet Harry, was cradling her lifeless form, crying and… Was that Ron Weasley wailing her name? She shook her head. Even if Gryffindor-Hermione had mentioned him, this was more than a little awkward.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she nearly jumped. Draco was slightly taller than now. Slightly older and more haggard. He looked so gaunt. So sick. Not full of life like he usually did. Actually, studying Harry, he looked smaller than he was now at nearly fifteen, even though he too was clearly older… And his face. Why was it so bloated? She knew that Voldemort had returned in the other timeline, but what had happened to them? They looked nearly unrecognisable. Both of them were carrying the weight of years lived far beyond their years.

Hermione could see the three boys arguing for a short while. Ron was eventually stunned before Dobby handed Draco something. The time-turner. She recognised the calculated look on the youngest Malfoy's face as soon as he got the trinket in his hands. She still thought him insane. The risks were astronomical. If anything had gone wrong, he could've splinched himself through time and killed himself in the process. All that, just for her? Merlin. He'd truly loved his wife. Loved her she supposed.

She watched horror-stricken as the memory unfolded and replayed itself at least three times, starting with Harry, Ron, and herself being brought to the Manor as their prisoners. Bellatrix's brutal torture of her was something she hoped she'd never witness.

It dawned on Hermione that Deandra's magic making him Lord Malfoy must have counteracted any pain and loss he would have felt when their marriage vow got broken because of her future version's death. Otherwise, how could Draco have endured this loneliness and torment? there was no way he would have willingly let them suffer through whatever this feeling was.

Engrossed in her thoughts and the haunting repetition of the memory, she nearly got a heart attack when a warm hand slipped into hers.

"You have always been too smart for your own good…" Draco whispered, looking as gaunt as his future self did. "I never knew she put a spell on the time-turner. That witch always had a contingency plan for everything. No one could outdo Hermione Granger when it came to planning. No one can outdo you ." He smiled softly at her. "I promise you, Mione. You will not end up like her."

"Not as long as we're in this together," Hermione whispered. "We should have been honest with each other from the start." She turned and hugged him close to her, resting her head on his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel it was smooth again, and no longer afflicted by either the curse or the phoenix tears. But what was most important of all, was that his heart was beating strong and steady.

"We should have," he murmured. He hugged her back and put his head on top of hers, but clearly still lacked his usual strength. She was scared she'd break him if she embraced him more forcefully.

Hermione quietly led both of them out of the Drawing Room again and closed the door. With a wave of her hand, the locks and chains replaced themselves. "You were right. This secret could cost many lives. If anyone learns that you've travelled through time… We can't risk anyone else knowing your past. For everyone else's safety, but especially yours. It must remain hidden."

Leaning on each other, they observed the slow reconstruction of his mindscape now that his strength had increased a little.

"It's looking rather shabby in here," the brunette joked, trying to lighten the mood.

All she earned was a tired glare. "I literally almost died, Mione. I can't imagine your mind would look much better in this situation. I think it's held up quite well," he retorted.

"We could take a trip to my mind if you need a change of scenery?" she suggested. "After what I just saw, I feel like I should finally get a chance to have my say in this. Don't you agree?"

He nodded sheepishly at her. "You're right. I'm so sorry, Mione. For keeping all this from you…"

"Don't be," she assured him. Ever since she'd learnt that he was from the future, she had mused about what she would have done. Luna said there was even a possibility out there somewhere, where she had been the one to travel through time instead of Draco. She was entirely sure that she would have risked her life to save Draco. To save Harry. To save Ron Weasley even.

"A little bird told me that I would have done the same if you were the one that died, even if the outcome might have been different," she said.

Draco chuckled, or well, coughed. It was hard to tell at this point. "Does that little bird go by the name of Luna Lovegood by any chance?"

They shared a knowing smile. "I'd like to think I wouldn't have kept as many secrets from you. But I guess we will never know."

The blond next to her scoffed. "You would have if you deemed it necessary. You always kept your secrets close to your chest. Putting a spell on the time-turner without telling me is a prime example of that. Not to mention, that she obliviated herself out of my mind," he scolded his wife slightly. "Even obliviated herself out of her parent's lives just to protect them…"

Hermione's expression turned pensive. Would she have done the same if she had been in Gryffindor-Hermione's shoes? Would she sacrifice all of their shared memories just to keep her family and loved ones safe?

She blinked rapidly when she came to the conclusion that, yes, she would indeed do anything to keep her friends and family safe. Draco. Harry. Daphne. Luna. Their friends. Her mum and dad. Sirius and Amelia… If it were up to her, she'd even go back further and save her brother from the Dursleys if she could. Having him waste ten years growing up in that cupboard under the stairs was- Wait a second.

"Did Harry grow up with the Dursleys last time around?" she wondered.

Draco physically wincing was enough of an answer for her.

"For how long?"

"Until he turned seventeen," the blond said solemnly, getting tired and leaning onto her even more. Deandra walked over and supported him as well.

"Is that why Harry looked like he did in the memory? Both of you were… Less like yourselves. Harry looked like he missed a growth spurt or two. Did his aunt and uncle manage to do that much damage to him?" she asked, her tone concerned.

Draco nodded in confirmation.

"How old were you? When you decided to go back? You both looked older, but Harry was so small…" she inquired further. "How old are you now?"

"I-," he seemed to struggle with that question, and she could see him frown. It was almost as if he hadn't thoroughly thought about it before. Interesting.

"I went all the way back to first year, that day we met at Flourish and Blotts," Draco finally revealed. "As for my age… I don't know how old I am anymore. Honestly, keeping two timelines straight and going through puberty again… Maybe Harry was right and I did lose some of my brain cells after all," he joked. "I think I'm around twenty to twenty-one, mentally at least. My body is that of a fifteen-year-old, though."

Deandra couldn't help but chuckle at his description. "He definitely lost at least a year of common sense after puberty hit him. It was as if talking to a brick wall at times."

Draco scowled playfully at the spirit. Hermione barely resisted the urge to put her finger between his brows, making his frown disappear.

Their banter was cut short as Hermione felt herself being pulled out of Draco's mind. Someone had seemingly woken her up.

When she opened her eyes, Madam Pomfrey smiled at her apologetically. "I'm sorry for waking you, but I need to run some tests, dear. Why don't you and Harry go and grab a bite to eat before you return to visit young Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry was sitting on Draco's other side, flipping through the Quidditch results in the Daily Prophet. She assumed that either he or Madam Pomfrey had put a blanket on her, and wondered how long she'd been asleep. The mention of food made her stomach growl and the sun seemed to be high in the sky when she looked out of the window.

Her brother in all but blood looked at her when he felt her magic touch his, grabbing his attention since he had been so engrossed in reading about the magical sport.

"He will be alright," she breathed to him. "If you'd want to talk to him for a bit, Deandra can help you."

Harry shook his head and put the Daily Prophet to the side. "I'll wait. I will talk to him tonight, after you and I have some lunch. Me and Ced need to go and get our winnings for being the first ones to reach the Cup afterwards. You know, before that loser Bagman runs off with the money." He walked over to her and placed a kiss on top of her head, ruffling her hair.

She loved Harry. If only he knew what Draco had done so that he had a family this time, instead of spending another seven horrible years with the Dursleys…

"How's your arm?" she asked as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"Healed," he shrugged. "But Dumbledore said my own blood can no longer protect me, though, since it helped in resurrecting Voldemort. I was lucky Draco added his blood to my father's ring. It made sure the protections on it still worked. Sirius and Amelia would've never been able to find me and Ced otherwise."

"Blood from the enemy unwillingly given," Hermione murmured, remembering Draco's words from last night. So this is probably how Voldemort had returned to life in the first timeline as well… Had Draco known? Was that why he'd poured Malfoy-blood into the emerald at the centre of Harry's ring? Or was it just a stroke of sheer dumb luck?

"Ced and I will tell you and the others what happened at the graveyard once Draco wakes up. Neither one of us wants to tell the story twice," he mumbled solemnly as he opened the door to the Great Hall for her.

All heads turned to them and Daphne rushed over, hugging her tightly. "Mione. I'm so happy you're alright," she whispered. "How is Draco?"

The brunette spent her lunch talking to her friends, listening to them retell their stories of the previous night. But all she wanted was to get back to him.

An hour later she finally returned to the Hospital Wing, no longer needing to argue with Madam Pomfrey to be able to visit Draco. As she snuck behind the privacy screen, she saw that Narcissa had been by earlier and left her son some chocolate frogs.

Hermione shuffled the armchair closer to his bed and grasped his hand. She studied his face, which at least had some more colour now, before she closed her eyes and invited Deandra and Draco into her mind.

"Welcome," she said to Lord Malfoy and the spirit as they stood at the entrance to her mind. She hadn't lied to him when she told him she used a library as her mindscape. It was entirely based on the Bodleian Library in Oxford.

Hermione guided them to one of the books, her memories sorted by year. "Let's take a look at this one first if you are feeling up to it?" she asked Draco.

He looked less gaunt, but still had trouble standing and was leaning onto Deandra. "Sure," he whispered. "Just make sure I can sit down while observing."

"As you wish, milord," she chuckled, making him roll his eyes at her.

When she opened the book, all three of them got sucked into the recollection of Hermione meeting Draco at Flourish and Blotts, showing him the first of her memories.