Chapter Six

"The pieces I am, she gathered them and gave them back to me in all the right order."

- Tom Morrison, Beloved

Returning to Hogwarts for its restoration was not the choice many people expected of him, least of all Blaise, who was quick to run off to Italy for the summer.

His best friend had served him a sharp scolding and a knock upside the head once they had reunited after the battle, but Theodore kept his reason about why he had had a sudden impulse to help during the battle to himself. He knew for a fact that his reason would have flabbergasted the Italian, and divulging it would only lead to more questions.

Truth be told, Hermione Granger was not the only reason he was sacrificing his time to rebuild the castle. He had considered Hogwarts to be his home for the better part of seven years, his only home, in fact. Seeing his place of refuge torn down and in shambles tugged on his mostly atrophied heartstrings just enough to urge him to send a letter to the new Headmistress.

And so that was how he found himself here, on the shore of the Black Lake, covered in a fine sheen of sweat that he tried to will the summer breeze to dry. A group of volunteers, including him, had turned up precisely as the clock strikes eight, and they had been working for four hours straight.

McGonagall had invited them all for lunch in what remained of the Great Hall, but Theodore had chosen to stay behind. He had been oddly relieved to see the willow tree on the edge of the lake still standing, somehow spared by spellfire. He could recall many a day he spent there, shrouded by leaves, on the days Blaise spent wooing his women and when She was nowhere to be seen in the library.

He pulled out his sketchbook now, shrinked to fit in the pocket of his robes. A quick spell restored it to full size, and he took his seat on one of the large sprawling tree roots, balancing the book on his knees. It was not quite full yet, though it was getting there. He considered it a feat that the pages weren't fit to burst. In the past year, he had drawn so much that his wrist had developed a slight ache.

Skimming through the pages he knew so well, the evident lack of Her face was somewhat off putting. Without his muse, he had been forced to draw other things, landscapes mostly, the lake frozen over, the horizon overlooking the Forbidden Forest, glimpses of a Quidditch pitch. One of his favorites was a drawing of the library, he had used watercolor to fill in the stained glass windows, the lights in cast onto the empty table she usually sat in.

His gaze faltered on the chair he had left pushed back, vacant, at the time, he had wished She had been sitting in front of him, and if he imagined hard enough, it was almost as if she had left only for a moment to maybe check out another book on her ever growing pile, or talk to Madam Pince.

He would have been lying if he said that he hadn't hoped to see her here today. Theodore had been so sure that she would help that he hadn't been able to mask the the feeling of disappointment at seeing the group gathered today.

So busy was he in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed the vines of the willow tree push back from behind him. The soft gasp from the intruder was what drew him out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I hadn't realized someone was already here."

Theodore stared at her, mouth slightly agape.

There she was, standing awkwardly before him, looking embarrassed.

Her hair was longer, he noticed, the curls tumbling past her shoulders, tamed by the weight of the length. Her eyes were brighter, less angry, less frightened. The cheekbones that had jutted out painfully when he had last seen her were now plump, full of life, as well as stained pink.

It took him a moment to realize he had been staring.

"I-I was just leaving." he managed to stammer out.

"Oh, no! Please don't, I'll just –" she broke off into silence, and he followed her gaze to find her staring at his open sketchbook, "Did you draw that?"

He tried covering the page with his hand, the other was gripping tightly onto the rest of the book, fearful that it might fall and open onto a drawing of her visage.

"Er, yes." he said, wanting to curse his traitorous cheeks for heating up at her curious stare.

"May I see?" she said, offering a small smile.

Theodore hesitated, before taking his hand away.

There was that gasp again.

Soft and sweet, and so very much like her that it shot straight into his heart.

"It's beautiful, Theodore." she said, eyes scanning the page in wonder.

"Thank you, Hermione." he said, watching as she leaned into him for a closer look.

His other hand still gripped the sketchbook tightly. Just one drawing, for now.

Towards the end of the Hogwarts restoration, they found themselves gravitating towards one another, Theodore more so than usual. Somehow, they had ended up paired off to fix up the library and help Madam Pince.

She had explained to him a few days after their encounter at the willow tree that Potter and Weasley could not find the time to give a hand, the two's time was solely focused on their Auror training. Neither of her friends were returning for their repeat year either. Theodore had confided that Blaise had opted not to attend either, laughing in his face when he had suggested it.

Oddly enough, they had found a friendship in one another that seemed easy most of the times and strained every now and then. A few people had whispered behind their backs in the first weeks they had begun talking to each other, but now, in the middle of August, the rest of the volunteer group had grown accustomed to their odd pairing. Longbottom had even begun speaking to him casually when their paths would cross.

"Theodore, why don't you show me more of your drawings?" Hermione asked abruptly from her place beside him.

They were seated at one of the long library tables sorting out books that needed fixing in the bindings or cleansed of dark magic. Yesterday, they had only just finished repairing the tall, towering bookshelves that stood empty throughout the library.

Theodore stayed silent, feeling a discomfort at not wanting to lie to her. But she wasn't ready for his drawings yet.

"I never thanked you." he said, reaching for a book.

She stared at him blankly in confusion.

"For your letter, after my father's death." he added.

"Oh," she said, sounding unsure.

He reached for another book, the silence heavy around them.

"I never thanked you either." she said after a long moment.

He looked at her then, but it was her turn to avoid his eyes.

"For your handkerchief, after the Yule Ball."

Theodore could feel himself tense.

"What?" he choked out.

"After I stormed out. The handkerchief you levitated to me." she said shyly.

"You knew it was me?" he asked, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Of course, there are only so many people in Hogwarts with the initials T.N., and it was obvious what your house was, seeing some as they were embroidered in green and silver."

Theodore let out a strained laugh. "You knew it was me all along?"

Hermione smiled, mirroring the flush of his cheeks in her own, "You're not as discreet as you think you are, Theodore."

"Apparently not." he muttered.

"Hello." he said, creeping up from behind her.

She shrieked in surprise, turning to face him and pin him down with a glare. He merely smirked at her annoyed expression.

"Oh, ha ha." she sneered, "Is there a reason why you sent me a rather insistent biting letter this late at night? You know I have a Potions test tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, I am aware, I have the same test tomorrow." he grinned, "But I also know you've been studying for the test for a week straight."

"What do you want, Theodore?" she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Happy birthday." he said, smiling tentatively, conjuring up his present.

Her eyes widened in surprise, hand reaching out reflexively to take the flat parcel. It was thin, and he saw her lips curl knowingly.

He watched her peel back the wrapping paper gingerly. He had made sure to spellotape the ends at the back, to make sure she didn't steal any glances. Hermione turned the sketchbook paper over and let out a gasp.

Theodore reveled in the way her face lit up with wonder upon seeing the sketch. It was one of his old ones, one of the most memorable, depicting the very scene she had accused him of disturbing a few weeks prior, it instead of the anguish she had felt that night, her Yule robes in disarray, her face was alight in a brilliant smile.

Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet his, and before he knew it, his arms were full of her, and his face was met with a mess of curls. He felts her arms wrap around his torso, barely reaching the whole way through. Her face was buried in his chest, the feel of having her in his arms made him tighten his hold around her instinctively.

"Thank you." he heard her mumble.

"You're welcome." he said, smiling.

The first time she kissed him, she had just returned from celebrating Christmas with the Weasleys. The family of redheads had adopted her after she had found out the damage to her parents' memory was permanent. He had found this out about her one night a week into the restoration of the castle. They had then proceeded to sneak into the kitchens and swipe a bottle of Firewhiskey that was drained by the end of the night.

She came back the afternoon of Christmas Day, finding him in his usual haunt. He had cleared the inside of the willow tree of snow, the grass was green under his feet, and he was once again immersed in a sketch.

"Knock, knock." she said, announcing her arrival.

Theodore turned to look at her in surprise. "I thought you said you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

"I couldn't find it in myself to stay away." she grinned, rolling her eyes.

He laughed at her teasing.

"I have a present for you." she said, smiling, reaching into her beaded bag.

He set his sketch aside, moving to allow her to sit next to him. She sat, dropping the present in his lap, and looking at him expectantly.

Theodore tore the wrapping paper, trying to hide his excitement. The silver paper peeled away to reveal an emerald green leather sketchbook, a dainty monogram of his initials right in the middle. A loop was fastened onto the side of the sketchbook, holding what seemed to be a metal pencil.

"They're both charmed to never run out." Hermione said, looking at him, obviously proud with her present, "The paper is spelled so that ink and paint will never seep or bleed."

Theodore smiled gratefully. Ever since she had found out he could draw, Hermione had never stopped pushing him to create. He had never felt such support in his life, and the fact that she just believed in him made his heart fill with warmth.

"Thank you," he said, setting the present aside. "I love it."

A moment passed between them.

"Well?" she said, raising a brow.

"Well, what?" he smirked.

"Come off it, Theodore, where's my present?" she asked, making him bark out a laugh.

"Demanding witch." he muttered, but he reached into his robes anyways. His hand came back holding a small box. Hermione seemed to visibly deflate.

"No painting?" she asked with a pout.

Theodore chuckled, and pressed the gift into her hand, urging her to open it. She tore the paper away to find a black velvet jewelry box. Her dainty fingers pried the lid open, once her eyes met the beautifully engraved oval locket nestled inside, she let out another of her small gasps.

"Theodore…" she said breathlessly.

"Open it." he said.

Hermione pulled the locket out, the gold chain wrapping around her fingers. The locket clicked open at her touch and instantly, she raised her head to look at him. Her eyes glistened with tears that threatened to spill over at any moment.

"None of that, now." he said firmly, swiping his thumb under her eye to catch an offending teardrop.

"Theodore…"

"Here, let me help you." he said, taking the necklace and looping it around her neck. The locket nestled perfectly on the hollow of her neck, rising and falling with each breath. The images he had drawn on minuscule sheets of parchment gazed back at him, the deep chocolate eyes of her father looking warmly at him, next to the brilliant smile of he mother.

"Do you like it?" he asked quietly.

"Theodore, I love it." she whispered, leaning into him.

He had been expecting her embrace.

Theodore had grown used to it in the months of their friendship. He had always known Hermione to be a touchy person, her touch was welcome to him, compared to that of others'.

What he had not expected was the soft press of her lips onto his own, hesitant and sweet.

She pulled away, looking up at him through her lashes, cheeks as bright red as his own.

"I'm sorry." she said, eyes wide in horror, trying to move away.

Theodore pulled her back roughly, catching her lips in his.

"Finally." he whispered after pulling away, making her uncharacteristically giggle.

The first time she had seen his scars, she had looked at him in horror. They peppered his shoulders and back, some faded in time, some still dark, barely two years old.

He had looked at her with eyes so full of shame that she took his face in her small hands and kissed him softly.

"He was a bastard." she whispered, tears falling from her face for him.

"They don't hurt anymore." Theodore said.

"He's still a bastard." she hissed angrily.

They crept out of the castle that night, Apparating to his ancestral home.

She had instructed Mopsy to collect every portrait ever mad of his father, and together, they cast spell after spell, blasting each one to smithereens, burning the remains, and throwing the ashes into the lake behind his house.

Theodore had watched her through the flames, in all her righteous fury, wondering how such a little witch could hold so much passion.

He knew he loved her then, but perhaps he had known that for a long time.

Hermione exited the Ministry entrance, wrapping her scarf around her neck. She cursed Kingsley for making her come back on Christmas Day, but it had been a routine as of late since she had been promoted to Department Head, after all, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement couldn't run itself.

But today, she was particularly annoyed at the disturbance, considering as it was both the Holidays and her anniversary. She and Theodore had started dating four years ago today, and she was supposed to be making dinner right this moment.

He would be coming back from his new art gallery in France soon, and she still hadn't done anything.

The walk to their shared town house from the ministry was a quick one, just a few blocks, and even though she was short on time, she had chosen to walk, enjoying the time to herself. She passed by the familiar sights of London, walking down shopfronts and –

Hermione's feet stopped short in front of a building that, up to that day, had been empty for as long as she could remember. That evening, however, it glowed brightly with light and the odd feeling of magic. She recognized it as a Notice-Me-Not Charm, which was odd, since she could see it clear as day.

The plain white walls inside glowed brightly through the shop windows, it seemed to be an art gallery of some sort. Her mind flashed to Theodore for a quick moment. He had left early that morning to Floo to Paris, only sparing time for Christmas. His new gallery would be opening after the New Year, and he had been stressed out of his skin for weeks.

But it was the norm for them now, with Theodore growing popular in both Magical and Muggle communities in the art world, and her buried in Ministry work, the couple barely had any time to themselves.

She sighed sadly before entering the gallery, thinking that if it was interesting enough, she would mention it to her boyfriend.

There was no one insight, so, as she always did, her curiosity overcame her and took the liberty of approaching the first art piece.

It was gorgeous, to say the least, the dark charcoal lines were both precise and chaotic at the same time and the young girl's eyes were –

Her gasp filled the empty space and her eyes widened in shock.

It was her.

Twelve year old Hermione sat in her little library nook, face buried in books, her face lit by a candle.

Hermione looked around, trying to find anyone, but the gallery remained vacant. Her heart rate picked up as she moved to the next piece, and the next, and the next.

Her smiling brightly, face turned to the side, a flash of bright red hair was drawn in on one corner, and a flash of black hair on the other.

Her in a hospital bed, eyes open, and staring straight into the viewer, sparkling and alight.

Her in lilac dress robes, twirling about the dance floor in the arms of a man who had not been her date that night, her head tipped in laughter, cheeks flushed in happiness.

Her looking back, the Room of Requirement door behind her, shrouded in torchlight.

Her after the battle, war-torn and bloody, fierce-faced and triumphant.

There were more, sketches of her, paintings of her, in charcoal and ink and pastels and oils and watercolor. Hermione wiped away tears that had begun to slip down her face.

Almost too soon, she walked towards the last piece, this one was framed in gold instead of silver. The paint looked fresh and she recognized in the back of her mind that she had on the same dress she was wearing in the painting, the same scarf, and her hands were brought to her face in surprise, there were tears in her eyes.

Kneeling in front of her was Theodore, looking up the same way he always did – with eyes evident with devotion and love – holding in his hands a black jewelry box…

She gasped again, the painting registering in her brain.

Hermione turned around to face him, hands to her face to control her sobs. Her boyfriend was kneeling in front of her, a smile on his face that she had never seen before – one of complete and utter happiness.

"Hermione –" he began.

"Yes!" she shouted, kneeling as well to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

"I haven't asked yet, you barmy witch!" he growled, amused at her reaction.

"I don't care!" she said, kissing him soundly, "Yes, yes yes! Don't say anything, this is perfect."

"Silly witch," he said, shaking his head, but sliding the ring onto her finger anyway, "I had a speech prepared and everything."

"You don't need to say anything." she said, as he pulled her to stand.

"I'm still going to say it." he whispered, "This is all for you, love. Everything I've ever made is for you. You're the reason I am who I am today. The reason why I'm still sane. You saved me, not knowing you were doing it, and when you knew I need it, you saved me then, too.

"You've shared your life with me, your home, your happiness, and have given me everything I always wanted, but never in a million years thought I would have. And in turn, I've shared with you my secrets, my scars, and everything in between.

"I want to give you more than that. You know, more than anyone how much I love you, but I want to prove it to you until the day I can't anymore.

"Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"

"But I've already said yes." she giggled.

Hermione was folded into his tight embrace.

"I love you." she said, looking up at him, eyes shining in sheer joy.

"I love you." he returned, pressing his lips to her forehead.

a/n : Tada! I had so much fun writing this last chapter! I hope you enjoyed reading it! See you at my next fic! I'm off to write my HG/SB fic.