Hermione was facing one of the large shelves of her bookshop, hands resting on her hips. She was scouring the cookery books one by one, wishing she could find something for Draco.

She had been thinking about it for a few days. Ever since she'd woken up next to him, actually. She'd been so angry at herself for acting like that in front of him, and before that, for putting distance between them for days. She wanted to make it up to him in some way. She wanted to return to the days when everything was simple between them, when everything felt right.

And to do so, she needed to take the first step. She needed to extend the olive branch to offer him some peace, some friendship. She couldn't see any other way of doing it; the mere idea of apologising to him was panic-inducing. It felt both trivial and difficult. Never in her life had she had trouble apologising, but now she found herself in a real bind. It wasn't pride, just an unease she couldn't quite put her finger on.

After all, what could he possibly say to an apology? How was he supposed to react? It was silly. It was better not to talk about all this, she didn't want to make a fool of herself. As if an apology was enough to make what she did go away. She didn't deserve forgiveness for such stupidity.

An apology wasn't enough, she needed to offer something much more than had to show him that he meant something to her, that their friendship mattered. She owed it to him. He had been perfect, so good to her. Therefore, a gift seemed to be the right solution to break the now ever-present tension. Or at least the silence.

Her first thought was to get him some cookery books, something he was bound to like. She had opted for the types of cooking she preferred, in the secret hope that he would prepare dishes she cherished so much. She had never dared to suggest anything to him about the meals.

Then she remembered all the times she had caught him reading novels or collections of poetry. She pictured him stretched out on the sofa in the library, Verlaine in his hands. She even wondered which one of them he read more. That was how she decided to take everything. After all, in her eyes, you could never read enough.

She grabbed a third cookbook, this time on Lebanese food, and headed for the latest novels. She wanted to pick out her favourite books from the last few years, knowing her grandparents' library contained nothing from less than fifteen years ago. She selected two and vowed to get him more if he liked her suggestions.

With her bottom lip caught between her teeth and arms full of books, Hermione walked back to the counter and paid for her purchases. For once, she was spending her money on something other than her meals and Albert's vet. She was happy to do it for him. For Draco.

Her shift wasn't over, but she'd only had two customers and didn't feel like waiting any longer. She wanted to see Draco's reaction, to know if her choices were the right ones and if he would like them. She wanted to see his face light up with those rare smiles he gave her. She wanted to feel the apprehension in the pit of her stomach as she watched him open his presents. And above all, she couldn't wait to see him again.

Her impatience getting the best of her, Hermione decided to close the bookshop early so she could get home as quickly as possible. She couldn't wait. Fifteen minutes later, she and Albert were on their way home.

As usual, Draco was in the kitchen when she arrived. It was this kind of habit that she cherished and had feared losing over the last few days. Knowing that he would be there, at home, in her kitchen, when she got back, was something she never imagined she would love so much. She needed to know that he was here, that he was near.

He was sitting at the kitchen island, busy embroidering new designs on his clothes. She smiled unintentionally as she leaned against the doorframe, holding the books close to her chest.

He was so focused on his task that he didn't even seem to notice that she was there.

She couldn't help but observe him quietly. From this distance, she could see that he was forming flowers on the back pockets of a pair of jeans—sunflowers, roses and even a few ferns. He was getting more and more talented, so much so that Hermione had to restrain herself from asking him to embroider all her clothes so as not to seem completely crazy. She cherished more than anything the ones he had offered to adorn with his creations. Her white dungarees had become her favourite since he'd added a few suns on the back pockets.

"Are you going to stand there for long?" Draco asked after a while.

Hermione gasped and felt her cheeks heat up as she straightened up, caught in the act. He looked up at the same moment and smiled. There was a certain apprehension in his eyes as he stared at her, a shyness that was touching. He seemed to fear her reaction to his teasing.

Hermione smiled back at him and hesitantly approached him. Now that she was standing before him, she was afraid of rejection, afraid that he wouldn't accept her. Apprehension creeped in and began to eat away at her excitement. What if he found it strange that she was offering him a gift? What if he handed the books back with one of those haughty grins he used to make when they were teenagers?

She bit her lower lip as she realised her thoughts were idiotic. He wasn't that boy any more. Not at all. She felt terrible for even thinking about it. She slid the books towards him and waited for his reaction. Just a little patience, a few ridiculous seconds.

He looked at her with confusion, before putting down his needle to study them. He examined each cover before looking up at her. He opened his mouth, ready to question her, but she didn't give him the chance.

"They're for you," she said, clenching her toes in her shoes. "I–To make it up to you."

She was now sure her cheeks were as red as a tomato. She should have phrased it differently! He was going to find all this weird. She was weird.

If Draco seemed surprised, he remained silent. This only increased Hermione's apprehension for a few seconds. A whole host of questions were running through her mind as he seemed to be trying to figure out how to answer them.

Eventually, he just smiled, opened one of the books, and fixed his gaze on hers.

"Thank you, Hermione," he breathed.

She felt her heart lighten in her chest. It was all gone, all this anxiety, this pain in her mind. There was only his smile and hers. It felt better, it felt right.

oOo

Draco was sitting at the small desk in the library, several stacks of books around him and one of them open before his eyes. He was enjoying the afternoon, starting the research he had promised himself he would do to help Hermione.

Although he had initially settled down on the sofa to read one of the books she had brought him, he remembered better and rummaged through the shelves. He hadn't found much, as the books were all quite old, but he had managed to find a few that were more or less related to his subject: insomnia, nightmares and, above all, addiction. They were Muggle books, of course, but he hoped to find some useful information to help him understand how it all worked. After all, it couldn't be that different from wizards addictions.

Draco had no idea what potions could do to the body, nor did he know what Hermione was going through when she wasn't drinking them. Was she also haunted by nightmares of the war? Did she always have trouble sleeping? Was she experiencing purely physical effects, such as pain? He had no idea, but he intended to do as much as he could. He didn't want to see her in such a state again, he didn't want her to suffer any more, to experience any withdrawal. He would find a solution. For her.

As he was reading the back cover of one of the books, a few knocks sounded against the window. Behind the glass, a black raven with yellow eyes was watching him as if he were its future prey. He noticed that a letter was hanging from its leg and remembered that Hermione had once told him about Weaslette's adopted raven. Snape. What did she want from him? It couldn't be anyone else.

Draco raised a hesitant hand to the window handle and let Snape in. The raven landed right in front of him and raised its claw, from which Draco promptly detached the letter. The raven didn't flew away a second later, letting Draco know that no reply was expected.

He unsealed the letter and recognised the handwriting of his best friend. Reassured that he was not dealing with Ginevra, he began to read.

"Draco,

I wish with all my heart I could have spoken to you about this face to face, but I'm afraid a meeting between Granger and Harry is a terrible idea at the moment.

I hope you are well and that Granger is too. Pansy told me she came to see you a few days ago but couldn't stay long, which she regretted. It got me thinking that the four of us could try to get together, just Blaise, Pansy, you and I, what do you say? Just like old times. It would do good to us all.

But that's not why I'm writing to you. It's not an easy subject to broach, I have to admit, but I'll get straight to the point. I've got a plan. A plan to put an end to all this bullshit, so that we can show the wizarding world what really happened.

I know it sounds utopian, I know you probably don't want to get involved, to go through all this again, but read on, I promise it's worth it.

I'd like to publish a book, an illustrated one. Harry said it was called a comic book in Muggle-speak, or a graphic novel. Whatever they call it, that's the least of our worries. I'd like this book to contain your story, everything you went through during the war and afterwards. And with that, I'd like to illustrate it, in my own way.

I believe that your story is the most appropriate for the situation we want to denounce. You have your faults, as do all of us who were locked up, but you and I know for the most part that you had no choice. It would only be fair to show the truth.

I know it sounds crazy and, above all, it would mean reliving it all, having to write down everything you went through. We're talking about years of suffering, I'm aware of that. But think about it, Draco. Even if you never benefit from the changes this could bring, others will. Things could change, we could open the eyes of all those idiots who think we're monsters.

I know Harry is puzzled, I could see in his eyes that he couldn't believe it, that he doubted things would change thanks to a book. But what have we got to lose by trying? At worst, it will be a project like any other, something to keep us busy, or to free us from all this.

Think about it, take the time you need, I'll wait. But please, imagine all the good it could do, Draco.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Theo."

Draco placed the letter back on the desk and stared out the window. He didn't have time to really think about its content when he was pulled out of his thoughts by the door opening behind him.

He turned just in time to see Hermione enter and immediately stood up, grabbing the letter as he did so.

"Hermione!" he said as he hurried over to her. "Look what I've received. It's from Theo."

Although she seemed surprised by his animated tone, she said nothing and merely picked up the letter he had just handed her. He felt like a child showing something to an adult, a find, a pebble, or even a terrible drawing he'd made. It was laughable.

He stared at her for long minutes, his heart beating wildly. He imagined her reactions, the way she would take things. Would she think it was silly? Or would she help them? Would her face be contorted in confusion, or a proud, eager smile?

He had only just thought about the whole idea, he didn't know if he would agree, but he was already prepared to try and convince her if he went along with it. Whatever he decided, he wanted her to be part of it, to participate in one way or another.

He waited for her to finish reading before speaking again. He was good at waiting, spending minutes and hours contemplating all the options. He counted the seconds in his head, as if time was going to pass more quickly. He felt the skin on his lower lip crack as he nibbled away at it.

"What do you think?" he asked with a certain impatience in his voice.

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds and he felt studied from all sides under her gaze. Eventually, he looked back down at the letter she was still holding, feeling his cheeks heat up.

He shouldn't have done that. He should have taken the time to think about it before telling her. Maybe she wasn't interested. Maybe she didn't care what he did with his life or his story. He felt hot all of a sudden, ashamed that he had rushed into things.

Only, her response was the opposite of his negative thoughts.

"What do you think?" she said.

He shrugged one shoulder and ran a hand through his hair. It was too long.

"I don't know, I–"

He sighed. He'd hardly had time to think about it. He had practically jumped on her, impatient to share the news. He'd been a fool, too impulsive. He should have taken the time to consider the question, to think about his best friend's words and what his proposal meant.

Now that he could think back, he realised the magnitude of such a project. For him and for the wizarding world.

He remained silent. He didn't know how to answer, it was a lot of questions all at once, a lot of details he couldn't consider in so little time. He felt incapable of making such a decision, of knowing what was the best thing to do, despite Theo's reassuring and encouraging words. He was having trouble realising what was involved.

"Maybe you should take some time to consider it, don't you think?"

Hermione's voice was soft, as if she was afraid of hurting him. She wasn't wrong, he realised. The questions that were flooding into his mind in such a short space of time were not healthy, he felt vulnerable, as if panic might overwhelm him at any moment.

He nodded and she smiled gently at him. He felt supported, heard, almost appreciated. It felt right.

Draco locked himself in the study until nightfall. He had written several pages, full of thoughts and questions for when Hermione walked through the door the second time that day.

He wasn't sure he had all the keys to make such a decision, he wasn't even sure he wanted to do it, but the look she gave him helped him make a choice. Maybe it was hope what he saw in her eyes, maybe deep down she was wishing he'd tell the world about what he'd been through. He couldn't figure it out.

She questioned him without a word.

"I don't think it's such a bad idea," he admitted after a few seconds.

"But?"

"But I'm afraid to write it all down," he confided as his gaze locked with Hermione's.

She had a sweet, light smile on her lips. She wasn't judging him, she was listening to him. It felt right.

"I could help you," she suggested, taking a few steps closer.

His heart missed a beat at these words. Was she sincere? Did she really want to help him? So easily, without him having to ask?

"You would do that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I mean, yes, of course, gladly, I– I just don't want you to feel obliged to do it, it's not that important, and besides I don't want you to–"

"Draco," she interrupted him with a chuckle.

He looked up at her again. He hadn't realised he was staring at his hands playing with his wedding band.

"I'll gladly do it if you want me to."

He wanted her to. Merlin, he was even resolute now. Theo had the best idea, it was a motivating project, something concrete. How could he have hesitated for so long when the answer now seemed so obvious? He could take his vengeance on his past, put all that behind him for good.

He nodded. Yes. Yes, that was right. It was a good idea. He could do it.

He looked into his friend's eyes and smiled. A sweet, sincere smile. A grateful smile.

"Thank you, Hermione."

oOo

Blaise was seated in the front row of the Wizengamot. He was wearing his usual plum dress robes with the big W embroidered on it. He didn't like the colour, it didn't suit his complexion and he felt like he was dressed like one of those Muggle clowns Pansy told him about.

Pansy. Pansy was in the audience. She was glancing at him regularly, nervous as she was about events. Today was the final vote, after an appeal by the lawyers concerned, on the law authorising visits to all Azkaban prisoners regardless of their crimes.

However, this time neither Blaise nor Pansy were on the stand. Pansy had been there once or twice to tell the assembly about her foundation and show them that solutions existed for prisoners, but she had no place on this occasion. As for Blaise, he was less and less involved in matters such as these, which required the presence of the entire Wizengamot. Since he had become an integral part of it, the Minister for Magic had regularly pressured him to relegate these projects to his colleagues.

This was how he found himself facing Hannah, Katie Bell—who had ended up joining their cause—a certain Grant Norris, the lawyer for several long-standing prisoners, and Thomas Rocade, who had come to testify personally.

He had barely spoken to Hannah about the case. She had been distant for weeks and that was causing him to panic. He wanted to be with her so they could properly defend the bill. But he couldn't, and he felt frustrated at not having briefed her long enough.

He was anxious, terribly anxious. His leg had been shaking on its own since the start of the hearing and he had gnawed off the vast majority of his cuticles. The proceedings had already been going on for three hours and Blaise couldn't see the end of it. Most of the members of the Wizengamot were still perverted by the ideas of the anti-pardons and they had no qualms about putting forward arguments that had nothing to do with the law, but which, as always, demeaned the prisoners a little more.

Elphias Doge was staring at him from one of the benches in the Wizengamot. He had that laughing look he always wore, as if he was trying to make Blaise understand that these plans were going nowhere. Doge had been the first to belittle Blaise, even though their ambitions were similar. It was beyond comprehension.

Blaise sighed and ran a hand over his face. He knew that it wouldn't be long before the Minister asked for the hearing to be suspended, and that wouldn't work in their favour. The anti-pardons saw no problem in following the members of the Wizengamot outside the authorised times to argue their case, something that was difficult to denounce as it was hard to prove.

"They're human beings! Inflicting this solitude on them won't solve anything!" Katie Bell exclaimed for the umpteenth time. "Justice should not be vengeance!"

The room silenced. Blaise winked proudly at his colleague. The witches and wizards in the assembly whispered in low voices, while the lawyers who had come to defend their cause smiled discreetly at each other.

"We can't continue to make them pay for their mistakes like some of them already have," Katie said loudly.

The whispers grew louder. Soon, the public in the audience joined in, and it didn't take much for the minister to drop his gavel on his desk.

"Silence!" he said in a magically augmented voice. "The session is suspended!"

Exclamations of discontent were heard throughout the room at these words. The audience was on its feet demanding that the order be withdrawn, while the members of the Wizengamot whispered louder and louder to each other.

Blaise, who had seen it coming, sat back in his seat and sighed. Things weren't moving fast enough for his liking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the minister run a hand over his face and look at his vice-president. Hope swelled in Blaise's chest.

"Fine, fine!" Kingsley resumed in a loud voice. "But for Merlin's sake, sit down again, or you'll all be evacuated and the meeting will end in private!"

His remark had its desired effect and a second later the entire audience was seated.

The minister shook his head and rose from his seat, cleared his throat and took one last look at his vice-president. The latter nodded.

"All those in favour of passing the bill to allow visits to all prisoners in Azkaban."

Dozens of hands went up, but not enough for Blaise to be sure it was a majority. His heart was pounding in his chest.

"Those who are against the passage of this law."

Only nine hands went up. The public erupted. Blaise met his wife's eyes and smiled. They had won.