Alone! Only the crackling of the fire in the fireplace...

Only the coldness of thought and the fire of desire.

How can I choose between them

And not break the fragility of the universe?

I do! Two so painfully dissimilar,

Two very different and so unrepeatable.

Surprisingly, the choice was difficult.

Friend or foe? ...Beloved.

The silence in the room was broken only by the quiet rustle of pages and the ticking of an antique clock on the mantel.

More than two hours have passed since Dumbledore and Malfoy left. At first, Hermione sat exhausted in an armchair and silently prayed to all known Gods that everything would be over as soon as possible, and everyone would return safe and sound. Half an hour later, she realized that she was going to die from inaction, and began pacing around the director's office, examining portraits, shelves, souvenirs, a pattern on the carpet ... When it became obvious that with such a pace she would soon wipe this very carpet with its pattern to unaesthetic holes, stopped and took the first book she came across from the shelf. To be honest, the thickest book to keep yourself busy. The book proved to be the graduation album of the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry from its very inception. After examining it, Hermione noticed that the first sheets were completely yellow, and the last ones looked new. Every year the album got thicker and thicker. The pages looked interesting: the sheet was divided into four parts, on each of which the coat of arms of the faculty was located. The year of issue was indicated in the center, affecting all four emblems. Having suffered a little, Hermione realized that if she touched any one emblem, the whole page would immediately be occupied by smiling and waving graduates. It took an insulting time to solve the puzzle, and Hermione had been glancing over dozens of generations of Gryffindors for thirty minutes already, starting with the very first issue, a little over a thousand years ago. If at first the lesson was fascinating, then, having found out that the style of robes has changed dramatically over the past centuries, and the Weasleys were not always red (somewhere before the eighteenth century they were predominantly dark-haired), Hermione again began to succumb to uninvited thoughts. Over and over again, a happy Harry, a carriage with a hated coat of arms, Lucius Malfoy beating his son, a strange conversation between two such similar people, flight, Dumbledore flashed before her eyes. A kaleidoscope of images and thoughts threatened to plunge into the abyss of burning despair.

To distract herself somehow, Hermione opened the book to the very last page and touched the golden lion with her magic wand. Obviously, she was more interested in the Gryffindors. Katie Bell waved her hand cheerfully. Hermione turned the page back and did the same. Cheerful faces, embarrassed smiles. The girl knew them all so well. Leafing through the history of her studies at Hogwarts in reverse order, Hermione remembered these familiar faces over and over again. The Weasley twins, who never graduated from high school, but still earned a place next to the defiantly winking Lee Jordan. The girl smiled, remembering a visit to their store a week ago. Not. Still, this couple was very warm to the friend of the younger brother. There was nothing else Hermione could explain to herself the fact that she had come out alive from their stupid store. True, then she shuddered for an hour from any harsh sounds. But this is nonsense.

Another page. Percy Weasley's haughty face. The girl wrinkled her nose, looked at Oliver Wood and smiled. She always liked Wood. Cheerful, cute and fanatical. Hermione sincerely admired people who were so devoted to their favorite work. I think Ron said that Oliver has proven himself well in the team and is already playing as the main goalkeeper. Hermione didn't like Quidditch, but she was heartily happy for Oliver. Page, one more ... Then unfamiliar faces followed, and Hermione again got sick of looking at the album. The girl raised her head and glanced at her watch. Five twenty. When will this crazy night end? It was hard to believe that only one day had passed, that yesterday at the same time she was still sleeping sweetly and did not think how the penultimate day of summer vacation would result.

Thoughts returned to Harry.

"Harry."

Hermione said such a familiar name out loud. She thought a lot this summer. She will turn seventeen in September. Seventeen years. Some at this time are already wearing brides. Hermione recalled with distaste Blaise Zabini's masterful look in Malfoy's bedroom. She didn't care about it, but still.

Hermione is also almost seventeen, but she has never had a boyfriend. It happened. The girl spent the last six years of her life taking care of her careless friends. Ron always showed a certain interest in her, which Hermione began to notice from the fourth year ... At first, she herself thought that she was in love with Ron. It was so. The trouble is that too quickly the girl realized that Ron will always remain only her beloved brother for her. It's just ... The girl herself could not explain why. Probably, the fact is that they communicated too closely these years, and Hermione saw Ron in all his manifestations. Some of them not only disliked the girl, they pissed her off. Ron was a wonderful friend, ready to jump at the first call. He was as reliable as a rock and as cozy as a home. Except ... Hermione was bored with him. Not! The three of us were fun and great. But when they chatted in private, it turned out that there was nothing to talk about. Except for the eternal Harry Potter theme. Hermione was too smart not to realize that Harry connected her with Ron. Harry ... Harry ...

The girl sighed heavily. Harry didn't look like Ron. He was more sensitive, more vulnerable, more ... The girl could not find the right words. Six years ago, she saw a little black-haired boy on the train, desperately afraid of his appearance at school. Then it turned out that behind the external vulnerability and touchingness there is a strong character and a steel will. Harry Potter was indeed the chosen one. Few people had to experience what happened to him. Harry held out. Moreover, he retained something important in himself. The ability to live, in spite of everything, to be happy for friends, to take care of them. Hermione spent six years of her life watching him, worrying about him, protecting him. He became a part of life. A very large and important part. All the past summer there was not a day without a thought about him. It so happened that Hermione Granger had no friends. Friendship is trust. In the Muggle world, she was doomed to lie beforehand. As for the magic ... Her contemporaries, Parvati and Lavender, were always somehow distant, or something. Maybe it's because Hermione hasn't made contact with them since her first year of school. Then Ron and Harry showed up, and she had enough. In recent years, Hermione has regretted this. Not that they didn't communicate. Not! The girls were nice and polite. But there were no common themes, and regularly there was some kind of awkwardness when trying to communicate closely. Hermione had long since resigned herself. Moreover, she had her own room, and she had to meet with them less and less. There was also Ginny. But, as it turned out, there was a wall between them from the very beginning: Ginny was always terribly jealous of Hermione for Harry. After all, she was not taken to their company. As the years passed, the great love of Virginia Weasley may have ended, or maybe the girl realized the hopelessness of the situation and was tired of fighting. Hermione probably didn't know. But the disappearance of the reason for jealousy did not make the girls closer. They communicated. Constantly found themselves in a common company, spent a lot of time together. But there was no warmth. There were lovely, maybe even friendships. Only in the concept of "friendship" girls put a different meaning. Ginny shared her secrets and asked for advice in choosing the next gentleman, and Hermione began to get bored and gave extremely stupid advice. She couldn't admit that she was jealous of Ginny. Her beauty, her ease in communicating with the guys. Hermione herself couldn't do that. From the very first course, the label of a crammer and the right girl was firmly attached to her. So everything has flowed so far. The girl missed a star from heaven. She did not consider herself beautiful. Smart - yes! And then, there were times when she behaved in an idiotic way. Take at least the entire day from start to finish.

So it turned out that she had no one closer to Harry and Ron. And if everything was clear with Ron. That with Harry ... Was it Love? Hermione didn't know. She did not seek to share with her mother. It's just that since she realized that she was different from her parents, a feeling settled in her soul that she would not be understood. For some reason, it seemed that even the youthful experiences of wizards were somehow different. She was unaware that every teenager felt incomprehensible in advance. Hermione chalked it up to magic. What to do?! The notorious transitional age. How else to learn about Love? Of the romance novels that the girl has re-read a lot over the summer? Why she didn't understand. Maybe she wanted to experience a beautiful story at least in my thoughts? But everything was boring and funny there. Trembling knees, pounding heart, frost on the skin. Moreover, lips always say not what you are going to say. Is this Love? The girl chuckled. All these fictitious symptoms she had endured today in Malfoy's presence. So everyone lies in the books. Artifice! Farce! It's not like that with Harry. Simple and warm. She always knows how he will behave, what he will say, how he will look. She sees right through him, and he doesn't anger her as often as Ron. Yes, he has become secretive lately, but it will pass, the girl believed. Harry won't be able to keep away from everyone for long. He is needed. He can handle it. And she will help him. She was so used to taking care of him. Maybe this is Love?

Oh! The girl felt confused. Unbidden thoughts persistently entered my head. Reflections of the fireplace leap across the face and bare shoulders of the blond youth. In these thoughts, it was even somehow forgotten: who he is. Direct look, harsh voice. He was just a man. Strange ...

Her cheeks began to burn, and Hermione returned her attention to the thick book. You need to distract yourself. The girl opened a page at random and touched her wand to the Gryffindor emblem. It's good that she was sitting, because Harry Potter waved at her from the picture. It was only a second later that Hermione realized that the rumors about Harry's similarity to his father had not been exaggerated. Hermione chuckled and studied the face of seventeen-year-old James Potter. Tousled hair, perky smile. Exact copy. Only the brown eyes did not have that hidden sadness that Hermione always saw in Harry. The girl turned her gaze to the neighboring picture and saw Remus Lupine. Cute tired teenager. Gray-green eyes, slight smile. He evoked sympathy. Such a person cannot be bad. Peter Pettigrew. Hermione didn't even look into the subhuman's face.

Lily. Then still Evans, according to the signature under the picture. Cheerful smile, happy sparks in the eyes. The girl who succeeded in everything. The girl who will never live to see her twenty-first spring. Hermione felt her eyes sting and hastily turned away from the happy face of the young sorceress. It didn't get any easier. Only my breath caught in the feeling of injustice. Sirius Black. A person whom Hermione could not fully understand. The girl heard that he was handsome, saw it on the wedding photographs of Harry's parents. But all the same, my heart jumped at the sight of dark blue eyes looking straight into her soul from under the falling bangs. Sirius was smiling too. It seems to be fun. Everything must have seemed wonderful that day. After all, he was only seventeen. He graduated from high school. All life was ahead. He should be happy. He tried very hard to make it look like that. Just the eyes ... Hermione closed her eyes. If she had seen this album before. Two years ago, when you could talk to a person living at 12 Rue Grimmauld. What was he thinking that day? Did he know how life would treat him?

Tears still flowed. The girl wiped them with the long sleeve of a black sweater, and they all flowed and flowed. What was she crying about? About Sirius, who died defending his godson or his unknown dream, about Harry's parents, who were fourteen years ahead of their friend in this terrible marathon.

"Things are good. Nobody falls! " a strained voice rang out in my ears. And she fell into the abyss of despair, knocked down by the injustice of this life in relation to such young and such amazing people.

Hermione covered her face with her hands. The ticking of the clock was deafening.

"Hermione, it's okay."

A warm hand touched her shoulder.

The girl threw up her head and burst into tears even more. Only from relief. Before her stood Dumbledore, ten years older at once and very tired, but alive and well. Behind the lenses of his half-glasses, his eyes shone with a strange brilliance.

Hermione tried to speak: to ask what was wrong with Harry, how was he, but only sobbed convulsively and began to dry herself with renewed vigor with her sweater.

Dumbledore glanced at the photographs and sank into the chair opposite the girl with a sigh.

"Unfortunately, not everything in the world is going the way we would like it to. Wonderful people leave, while their executioners trample the ground and breathe sweet air. But everything has a meaning, girl. Believe me. Life is much wiser than us. we are too stupid to appreciate her wisdom, often limiting ourselves to moaning and angry cries. "

"But is that fair?" Hermione spoke up. "Sirius, Harry's parents ... While these ..."

The girl waved her hand towards the open album. In this ancient book, all life was united. A history of victories and defeats, exploits and betrayal, happy moments and tragedies. On these pages, they were all the same: heroes and villains, victims and executioners. Here they were equal. They were all seventeen, they all came out of the walls of the same castle, having received the same parting words from wise mentors. They were distinguished by their choice and the path traveled. But the old school album was no longer responsible for this. They chose their own lives. And the battered album loved them all equally, because for him they were forever seventeen left, and all school pranks are such a trifle compared to eternity. For this they do not despise.

The girl looked away from Sirius's face and looked into the headmaster's eyes. It seemed to her that he should know the answers to all the tormenting questions.

"Is this fair?"

"Life is, sometimes, a punishment too," Dumbledore said quietly and added. "When you are old, you have no choice but to remember your mistakes and regret what you did not do or did wrong. Life is wise, Hermione. She does not bypass anyone."

The girl nodded and asked a question, the answer to which she now feared more than death:

"How is he?"

"Mr. Potter or Mr. Malfoy?" the director immediately gave a voice.

Hermione stared at him blankly.

"Of course Harry!" She exclaimed.

Dumbledore smiled.

"He's fine. He's in the infirmary now."

Hermione jumped up. And where did the fatigue and the shock experienced only go?

"I need to see him."

The director stopped her by holding her hand.

"Not now. Madame Pomfrey has given him a potion and he is asleep. Trust me, he will be fine. "

"And what will happen next?" asked Hermione, sinking slowly into a chair.

"Next ..." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Do you know what is the most difficult thing in a person's life?"

Hermione remained silent, waiting for the continuation. Until that day, she had not had to talk to Dumbledore about topics not related to her studies. Honestly, Harry, as it seemed to her, was the only student entering the principal's office. And now here she is. Something was changing imperceptibly.

"The most difficult thing is responsibility. When the fate of another person depends on you. Many are not ready for responsibility all their lives. Unfortunately, I have to make decisions too often. I'm afraid they are not always right."

Looking into that wrinkled noble face, Hermione could hardly believe that this man could be wrong. Common sense dictated that everyone was wrong. But Dumbledore in her eyes always stood on a pedestal too high for earthly mistakes.

"I want to consult with you," the director stunned her, "do you remember Mr. Malfoy's request for your memory?"

So that is all. Goodbye memories. At that moment Hermione for some reason recalled an old school album. For him, the future life of the graduates was unknown, as if it was taken away for good. He had only fond memories of careless, but beloved children. But something important was taken away from Hermione. And she wasn't sure if it was for the good? She was clearly aware that too much had changed in the past day. And it was simply unbearable to lose it. The girl lifted her head and looked at Dumbledore. An unknown light burned in his eyes.

"How did he say? I want to consult with you? Can not be".

"Hermione, you are the only one who knows what happened," the transition to "you" strengthened hope in the girl. It was a sign of special trust. In any case, her really wanted to think so. "Before Harry wakes up, his memory of yesterday will be erased. I will use the Time-Turner to get you to Central Park at twelve ten minutes. Ten minutes have passed since the kidnapping. For Harry, none of this will happen. He will enjoy himself anew. the penultimate day of summer vacation. "

"But that's…" the tongue didn't turn to say "dishonest," but Dumbledore understood.

"This is responsibility, Hermione. I am not saying that I am sure of the correctness of this action. I may be making a mistake. I'm a human being. And every person has his own weaknesses. I cannot let Harry live with this pain, hatred and humiliation. All this and so was more than in his short life. "

Hermione swallowed. Perhaps the director is right. Only ... It's a hoax. For good, but still ... How, then, are the methods of one belligerent different from the other? Where, then, is that fine line between Good and Evil?

Dumbledore was silent, giving the girl time to realize, to accept, if possible, to understand. Finally Hermione looked into the headmaster's eyes again. He continued:

"The same will be done to you," the director's voice sounded with calm confidence. If he doubted the correctness of his actions, then he did not allow this to be reflected in the decision. - I leave it to you to choose: forget or remember.

"I.e?" Hermione did not understand.

"Please think well. And do not answer right away. I suggest you live this day again, but knowing and remembering everything that happened. It will be far from easy. You know what the Time-Turner is. For everyone except you, the new reality will be the only one." Just a walk in the park, meeting Mr. Weasley and whatever else you have planned for the last day. You will be fun, carefree and refreshed after the summer break. Harry and Ron will be the same. "

"And Malfoy?" Asked Hermione.

"For Draco Malfoy, the day will remain a reality. Your arrival at his castle. Your journey here, his help in freeing Harry. For him, we took Harry and disappeared. Now he will spend his last day of vacation, and tomorrow you will meet on platform 9 and ¾ . "

Hermione's head began to spin. For Malfoy, everything will remain as it is. Harry, Ron and everyone, everyone will have a quiet new day, and she ...

"It won't be easy," the director repeated.

"Why?" She tried to understand. "Why are You doing this?"

"Harry is not the only person who needs your help. Life has decreed that no one but you can help Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?" exclaimed Hermione. "Help? Yes he ..."

"Really needs help," Dumbledore finished for her. Hermione didn't say that her speech would have sounded completely different. For some reason, it seemed that Dumbledore knew this perfectly well.

"But why me?" Hermione was completely upset. She didn't want to lose today. But not at the same price!

"Because only you have seen a piece of the real Draco Malfoy. Good or bad, he is who he is. He needs help."

"But how can I help Malfoy? We can't stand each other! He will never accept my help!"

"And you should not offer it openly! Moreover, he should not even guess that you have memories of past events. He will never accept help if he clearly sees it."

"I don't understand anything. I can't."

"You have a rare gift, Miss Granger. You see things in people that they don't see in themselves. This is what happens to Harry. Thanks to you, he manages to keep his humanity and faith in good. You just see it in him. And today it seemed to me that you saw something in Mr. Malfoy. Otherwise you would not have come with him. You did believe ... "

"Believe it," Hermione admitted, "but he's become a nasty bastard again."

The girl hesitated and glanced at the director. He smiled.

"I didn't hear the end of the line, but I have no doubt that you are right. Draco Malfoy is really a difficult person. But you believed it."

"What about Harry? He needs me more!"

"So think about whether you will be able to help both? You have time until the morning. Although it is already morning. But ... t ime itself is in our hands."

Dumbledore waved his wand and a bed appeared by the closet.

"Rest and think as long as you need it. The bedrooms are not ready yet, so place them here. When you decide, find me in the infirmary."

"Okay," Hermione nodded her head.

The director headed for the exit, but at the very door he looked back.

"Responsibility is the ability to answer to your own conscience for the decision you have made. Many people still do not comprehend this science in their entire life. You rest."

The door closed and Hermione rubbed her eyes wearily. She would give everything in the world for advice and help at this moment. But she had to decide herself. Choice! A strange choice turned out. On one side of the scale, a huge part of life is the closest friend. Another? It's funny. Also a huge part of life and the closest Enemy.

The girl looked at the fire in the fireplace, as if expecting support from him.