September, 1996

Hermione frowned and folded her arms across her chest when Draco walked into their particular abandoned classroom after the welcoming feast, adjusting his Slytherin tie around his throat.

A smirk began to rise to his lips but Hermione scowled and he faltered.

"You broke Harry's nose?" she exclaimed, stepping forward, her eyes flashing.

Draco rolled his eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek. "He shouldn't have hidden in my compartment."

Hermione gaped at him, shaking her head. "That doesn't mean you –"

"You're right, I've just been on edge," he sighed. "I shouldn't have, but Potter's fine." He tilted his head, a slow smile on his lips, and Hermione thawed slightly. "I missed you."

Her shoulders slumped and she allowed him to take her into his arms. "I missed you, too. Like crazy."

She took his left forearm in her hands and unbuttoned the cuff, rolling his sleeve up. Her face remained impassive as she took in the dark brand that now adorned his previously unmarked skin.

She glanced up, meeting his eyes. Her voice broke as she whispered, "Are you okay?"

"No." He swallowed and averted his gaze. "But I don't have time to get into it right now. Tomorrow after dinner?"

"Was it terrible?" Hermione wasn't certain she was breathing.

"It was…" he shook his head. "Worse than I could have imagined. All I wanted was to get out and see you. In the week leading up, probably a hundred times, I nearly ran. But..."

"Your mother," Hermione finished for him. "I'm so sorry, Draco." She reached with tentative fingers towards the brand but he flinched and tore his arm away.

"It feels wrong, you even seeing it," he muttered, shaking his head. "The less you know about any of it, the safer you'll be."

Draco rolled his sleeve back down and secured the cuff once more. He draped his arms around Hermione's shoulders, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent. She reached around his back and relaxed into his hold.

Finally Hermione murmured, into his chest, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"You're here now." He drew back slightly, pressing his lips against hers. "I've got to go. Tomorrow?"

Hermione released him, catching his hand as she dropped hers and entwining their fingers. "Tomorrow."

"So what's the task?" Hermione asked, breezing into the classroom.

Draco eyed her for a moment before looking away, leaning back against the wall. She settled at his side, folding her legs.

"I can't tell you."

"Of course you can," Hermione said, her brow furrowing. "I want to help you if you need, Draco."

He ran his hands through his hair. "It isn't good. And the less you know, the better."

Hermione nudged him in the side, catching his hand with her own. "If it's that bad –"

"If it's that bad, I'll let you know," Draco said, his tone soft. "I might not even be able to figure part of it out, to be honest. And I'll just have to tell him so."

Hermione felt a shiver creep down her spine at his casual mention of the subject. But she could see the tension in his jaw and decided not to push the matter.

She dropped her head against his shoulder and he tugged her closer. "If you need anything, please let me know?"

"I will," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"And you know," Hermione said, staring at the hard floor upon which they were sitting. "There's a hidden room on the seventh floor that can be anything you need it to be. We really ought to meet up there rather than here."

Draco gazed at the floor for a long moment, his brow furrowed with consideration. "Good idea."

He stared at her, a tired smile on his face. Hermione glanced up from her homework, her hand halting as she returned the smile. "Have you been sleeping alright?"

"Fine," he replied, the skin around his eyes tightening. "As good as can be expected."

"Right," Hermione said. "You look exhausted."

"A little," Draco replied, rubbing a hand down his face. He took her hand, entwining their fingers. "Come sit on the couch with me?"

Hermione glanced down at her half-completed essay, and her gaze drifted back to the purple bruises beneath his eyes. "For a while."

He tugged her across the Room of Requirement and Hermione settled into his arms against his chest. She allowed her eyes to flutter and bask in his warmth; she leaned in, pressing her lips against his.

Five minutes later when she glanced over at him, his eyes were shut with sleep, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

"Harry's watching you, you know," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around the back of Draco's shoulders as he worked. "Whatever you're doing – be careful."

"I'm careful," Draco sighed, his eyes rolling. "Potter can mind his own."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. "Well clearly, whatever it is, it's driving you into the ground."

"I can't tell you, Hermione," Draco grit through his teeth, "and if you keep asking, I won't know what to do. I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected," Hermione frowned. "Maybe I can help you –"

"You can't," he clipped.

Hermione huffed, peeling away from him and sinking into the seat opposite him at the workbench. She pulled her work from her bag, with more aggression than intended. Draco sighed.

"I know you can protect yourself, Hermione," he said, his voice soft. "But how do I make sure you're protected from me?"

Hermione looked up, feeling some of the ire drain from her blood at his words. She whispered, "I wish that didn't have to be a consideration."

"So do I," he said, his grey eyes meeting hers. "Believe me, I wish none of this was happening."

Hermione frowned, feeling a bitter tug in her chest. "How do we get past this, Draco?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

Hermione could feel his eyes on her as she worked at their table in the Room of Requirement. She glanced up, setting her quill down.

He pursed his lips, his brows knitting together. "Can I teach you something?"

Hermione blinked. "Teach me what?"

"Occlumency," he said, his tone tentative. "I'd like you to learn to block your thoughts from invaders."

"Are you an Occlumens?" Hermione asked, fixing him with her full attention.

Draco nodded. "And a Legilimens. My mother taught me." He hesitated for a moment, staring at a spot on the table. "If anything ever happens, or if I get into trouble… I don't want anyone to learn how important you are to me. Because you'll be a target, and I can't live with that."

Hermione frowned, her heart rate escalating. "Are you in trouble, Draco?"

He scratched his neck, jaw clenched. "No. I don't know."

She scowled, shaking her head. "That isn't very encouraging." She took his hand across the table. "Will you please let me talk to someone? It doesn't have to be Dumbledore, but maybe Lupin or McGonagall –"

"No, Hermione." He shook his head, his lips forming a tight line. "I'm not going to the Order."

"Then why bother!" Hermione said, frustrated. "What do we gain by you teaching me Occlumency? Where is this even going?"

"The reason why I'm bothering, Hermione," Draco said – his face sank as he stared at her – "is because I love you."

Hermione froze, her eyes snapping to meet his at the sudden declaration. Her heart chased against the inside of her chest as she stared at him. He tossed the hair from his eyes and worried his lower lip.

"And I don't know where this is going," he continued, his voice soft, "but I'd like for us to one day find out. And it might not be until all of this is over – but everything I'm doing right now is in an effort to keep us both alive, so that we might have that chance."

Hermione swallowed, her mouth dry.

Draco shifted in his seat. "You don't have to feel the –"

He was cut off as Hermione leaned across the table, catching his lips in a searing, desperate kiss. She breathed, against his mouth, "I love you too, Draco."

She kissed him again, and when she drew back, the first trace of a smile she'd seen in ages was on his lips. "I want this to survive. I want us to make it through. So that's a yes to Occlumency."

"Good," he said, giving her a genuine smile and another kiss. "We'll get started tomorrow."

Hermione paced the Room of Requirement, growing more nervous by the minute as she waited for Draco to arrive for their regular meeting. While they couldn't see one another every day without drawing suspicion, she lived for the evenings when they could both get away.

She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans.

It had taken a couple of weeks, but she had managed to develop her Occlumency to the point where Draco couldn't break into her mind anymore. He seemed to be satisfied, and his spirits had been higher than they had been all year, despite that he still carried the weight of a sort of permanent fatigue.

Finally he walked into the room, pausing mid-step as he took in the way Hermione had rearranged their study room.

"What's this?" he asked as he approached, sweeping the fringe from his temples.

Hermione met his gaze, fearing if she glanced at the bed behind her, she'd lose her nerve.

"I just thought…" she trailed off, unable to hold his stare. "You might want to –"

"Hermione, are you sure?" Draco asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes," she said, quickly. "If you want to."

"Of course I –" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Have you ever had sex before?"

"No," Hermione said, her voice soft.

Draco's head tilted as he stared at her, his eyes searching hers. "Neither have I."

"I wanted…" she cleared her throat. "I want it to be you."

He took a step towards her, shaking his head. "Merlin, Granger, it'll always be you."

He caught her lips with his, kissing her with an intensity he rarely possessed, and Hermione sunk into his arms, her fingers trembling as they fumbled with his tie.

Draco undressed her with care, his hands reverent as he touched her, and there was a promise in his eyes that nearly brought Hermione to tears.

And when he entered her, slow and cautious, Hermione released a sharp intake of breath; his brow furrowed as he stared down at her. After a moment she nodded and smiled – the way he filled her felt right and Hermione knew that – no matter what else – he was her one.

He pulled her into his arms, after, pressing a kiss to her temples, and Hermione allowed her eyes to flutter shut as, for the first time, she fell asleep in his arms, feeling like there was no place she'd rather be.

There were certain times, if Hermione tried hard enough, she could forget how big of a mess her life had become.

That her boyfriend hadn't been forced into some sort of ominous task that was too dangerous for her to know about. That she had to keep said boyfriend secret for the sake of their joint safety. That he was – quite literally – on the opposing side of a brewing war.

That she was in love, and it was completely impractical, and she couldn't even tell anyone.

But there was a part of her – a small part, that she had kept largely suppressed for so many years – that glowed in the feel of being loved. That carried faith, and a hope, that they would one day see each other through the worst of these things.

That there might be an other side.

But there was a different part – a louder part – that screamed at her to open her eyes.

She pushed it back, swallowing back the fear and the trepidation and the utter terror that things would go badly. That the other side of things may not even exist after all.

"What's got you so happy today?" Harry asked, taking a bite of his toast. "And where were you last night?"

"Fell asleep in the library again," Hermione said, forcing a facetious chuckle.

Harry snickered and rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

Draco lay beside her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tapping an anxious pattern against her bare back. Her eyes caught the dark bags beneath his, growing worse despite their occasional nights spent together.

Maybe he still wasn't sleeping.

"Is everything okay, Draco?" she whispered.

He glanced over, his gaze unseeing, before he focused on her. "Of course."

"With the task – is something going wrong?"

He stared at the ceiling again, a tension to his jaw that was never a good sign. "Not wrong. I just need to… try harder."

"Draco," Hermione sighed. He shook his head. "Are you in danger?"

He clicked his teeth together as his mouth opened and then closed. He glanced at her and away, the anxious tapping against her back escalating. "I can't lie to you, Hermione."

"You need to get out," she hissed. "Please!"

"And leave my mother to die?" Draco asked, his tone deceptively light. "No, that isn't an option."

"We can get your mother out too," Hermione insisted, the hot sting of tears prickling at her eyes. "I can't keep seeing you put yourself through this."

He kept his gaze focused on the roof. "I don't want to put you through any of this, Hermione." He swallowed, and Hermione watched his throat bob. "Maybe we need to… take some time apart. Until this goes one way or the other. This task."

"The other way being?" Hermione asked, fixing him with a glare.

He blinked several times. "I don't want to hurt you. But if I fail..."

There was an ominous, hopeless desperation in his words that let the tears spring forth from her eyes.

"Don't you dare leave me alone, Draco Malfoy."

Draco turned to her, then, the hurt visible in his eyes at the tears streaming down her cheeks. He brushed them away with one hand. "I'd do anything to keep you safe, Hermione. Even if it means doing exactly that."

Hermione shook her head, even as she burrowed deeper into his chest. "I love you."

"I love you," he echoed. "Please remember what I told you over the summer. That no matter what happens, that isn't ever going to change."

She wished she could believe him.

"Don't tell me you had anything to do with Katie nearly dying!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes flashing as she stormed in the Room of Requirement.

Draco was on the couch, his eyes bloodshot, staring at the floor. "I won't tell you."

He looked worse than she had ever seen him. Hermione backed away, feeling terror clutch at her heart. "Draco, please let me help you."

"You can't," he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "I can't get out. He'll kill me, and my parents."

"Draco, for the love of Merlin!" Hermione cried, clenching her hands into fists as she paced. "Let me help you!"

"You can't!" he snapped, looking up at her. "Stay out of it, Hermione, please."

"What are you even trying to do," she choked, shaking her head as her heart crumbled painfully in her chest. "If you hate him so much, why won't you at least attempt to get out?"

"Because it'll mean my mother dies," he clipped. "And if you think he's going to just let me walk, without killing me too –"

"I'm not going to let you die!"

Her words rang out through the tension; he fixed her with a dull stare, and his eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I'm afraid that won't be within your power."

Hermione sagged, collapsing on the couch beside him, tears breaking from her eyes. She whispered, "Then what can I do?"

Draco stared at her for so long that she grew anxious, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper. His fingertips trailed along her spine and he frowned. "You need to forget about me, Hermione. I'm not going to put you through any more of this."

"Draco," she whispered, shaking her head, "no."

"It's for the best," he breathed, and Hermione noticed his eyes were shimmery with moisture. "And maybe one day – if you can forgive me –" he cut himself off, blinking, a watery glaze to his eyes. "I have to believe there's a better future for you than this."

Hermione felt the tears flow from her eyes, felt the crushing, soul-numbing shatter of her heart; she stared through him, her gaze unseeing. Her heart pounded a desperate, broken rhythm and she vaguely registered him swiping at his eyes.

"Please," she gasped, "don't do this."

"I don't want to, Hermione," he said, taking her hand. "But I can't do this to you anymore. And I would sooner you hate me and be alive –"

Throwing aside all rational thought, and abandoning the anger with which she had walked through the door, Hermione collapsed into his shoulder, her endless tears ruining his shirt.

Hermione chewed her lip as she sat through another re-telling of the heroic and harrowing tale in which Harry had saved Ron from an impromptu poisoning.

While it had been terrifying at the time to hear that Ron had nearly died – the story had lost much of its impact after Hermione had sat through it a dozen times.

She picked at her dinner, devoid of an appetite, and her gaze floated across the Great Hall. Her heart twinged in her chest as she caught a familiar flash of platinum blond in her periphery, and despite her consistent efforts to push Draco from her mind, her eyes met his.

His expression was careful and blank – but Hermione knew him better than that.

She frowned, a furrow to her brow; his grey eyes were empty as he stared back.

"You did what?!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide as she jumped to her feet. Her heart began racing in an instant, her blood roaring in her ears. Her mind buzzed with terror, a living and palpable thing.

"I didn't know the spell would do that," Harry grumbled, but Hermione shook her head in mute horror. "He's fine, I think, Snape did some spell."

Hermione collapsed to her seat, lost for words.

Draco was injured – Draco had been nearly killed. By her best friend.

She forced her breathing to steady as she turned to Harry, frowning. "I told you that Prince was a rotten character, and now look what's happened."

"Yeah," Harry said, "and now I've got detention."

Hermione fumed, silent; he had nearly killed the love of her life and was complaining about a resultant detention.

"You deserve it," Hermione snapped, unable to control herself. "What if you would have killed Malfoy!"

Harry shrugged but had the grace to look sheepish.

Hermione pressed her lips together in an effort to stop herself from saying anything more on the subject. "Harry, do you think I could borrow the Marauder's Map tonight? I need to visit the library late and Filch has been ruthless lately."

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, blinking. "I'll go grab it."

Hermione clenched her jaw and nodded.

Later that night she crept through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts, wand tip alight and held before her while she kept one eye on the map to be sure she wasn't going to be caught out of bed. Ensuring Madam Pomfrey had left the Hospital Wing for the night, Hermione released the wards and crept inside, tugging the hangings around Draco's bed shut before she cast a silencing spell.

She tucked the Map away and sunk into the chair beside his bed; his face was paler than usual, even with the cold glow of the moon filtering through the high window, and he was wrapped in bandages; a collection of potions sat at his bedside.

His eyes fluttered open and he blinked several times, his lips parted.

"Hermione," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know," Hermione breathed, her gaze darting to the slight gap in the privacy hangings. "I just needed to know you were okay."

Draco stared at her for a long moment, his head tilted. "I'm okay."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe Harry's done this."

He scowled but glanced away; his jaw tightened as he swallowed. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Draco," she whispered, blinking. "More than you know."

He shook his head, fidgeting with his covers. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a furrow rising to his brow. "I don't know that I'll ever forgive myself for what I've done. I don't think you should, either."

Hermione didn't have an answer for that.

"It's for the best if you let go," Draco murmured, staring at a spot behind her. "If this war goes badly for our side, I'll most likely end up in Azkaban. I don't think…" he ran a hand through his hair. "There isn't anything left here for you, Hermione. I never should have hurt you."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes narrowing in an effort to keep the tears at bay. "You and I don't know what the future will look like."

He breathed, "I know it won't look like the two of us together." His expression was pained. "Just please don't forget what I told you."

"Maybe one day, Draco," Hermione whispered, and he met her gaze, his grey eyes dull.

"Right," he said, forcing a smile. "Maybe." He glanced around. "You should go before someone comes by."

"I love you," she whispered, and Draco blinked, looking away. There was a glossy sheen to his eyes when he turned back to her and nodded.

His fingers fumbled to catch her hand in the dark; his grip was feeble as he gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll never stop, Hermione." Then he released the brief hold and glanced down at the bedding again. "Goodnight."

Releasing a tight breath, Hermione nodded, and with a murmured, "Goodnight," she crept from the Hospital Wing.

Hermione's world had turned upside down and imploded; her mind was running backwards and in overdrive at once. Nothing made sense. She couldn't believe it – not Dumbledore – not Draco –

She stared at the great white tomb, gazing but unseeing, Harry and Ron some distance away. The hole left in her heart with Draco's absence from school warred with her conscience.

Would anything have changed if she and Draco had stayed together? If she had said something to someone? The guilt could consume her if she allowed it and she attempted to shake the thoughts from her head.

Harry had said Draco had hesitated – that he was dropping his wand. That he had appeared to consider Dumbledore's words.

So then, maybe – if Snape and the other Death Eaters hadn't showed up –

Hermione swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth. There was no use dwelling on what-ifs now. Not when there was so much that needed to be done.

Not knowing what she, along with Harry and Ron, had to face now. The battles they would assuredly face; the struggles that were as of yet unknown. The three of them stepped closer together, sharing a grimace.

Harry had been given this task by Dumbledore. It was on their shoulders to carry on with what he had begun, and for Harry to put an end to Voldemort. It was a cause that exceeded any other. Steeling her countenance with a short nod, Hermione sealed away that last piece of her heart that still clung to her first love.

April, 1998

It had been months since Hermione had seen him. Months of pain and struggle – fights with friends, and fights with enemies.

He looked different, somehow, yet the same. There was something in the set of his jaw; something in the hardness of his grey eyes. His hair was longer and it suited him.

But all Hermione could see, at this moment, was the way Draco's eyes screamed with panic while he stared at her, his hand frozen en route to his wand, and Hermione shook her head despite the pain singing through every one of her nerve endings.

Draco had told her she wouldn't want to meet his Aunt Bellatrix – he had been right.

Hermione blinked into focus, and found Draco's anxious gaze settled, unblinking, on her, even as his face remained carefully blank.

If she looked closely, she could see his hand trembling with the effort to refrain from drawing his wand.

No, Hermione mouthed, blinking away the tears while his aunt looked away. Don't.

If it hadn't been for Draco's presence – if it hadn't been for the way his gaze suggested he still cared about her – Hermione didn't know whether she would have still clung to consciousness with such a voracious necessity.

She hadn't come this far to allow Harry and Ron to die. To die, herself.

And Draco hadn't managed this far to give himself up, either.

Hermione winced, surprised there was any response left in her nerves, when Bellatrix cackled and unsheathed a wicked blade.

She heard a sharp hiss from Draco as the blade broke her skin – but luckily the sound was drowned out and swept away in Bellatrix's mirth.

Hermione caught his gaze again, and his eyes shone with moisture. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and his wand slipped into his hand.

Tears broke from her eyes; pain she could bear, for this cause, but she wouldn't be able to stand seeing what might happen to Draco if he were to make a move against his aunt. There was a stiffness to his shoulders that belied incoming movement, and Hermione wanted to cry out but her throat was shredded from screaming –

But his eyes snapped up and there was chaos – Harry and Ron were there, and – Dobby was with them.

In the flurry of action that followed, Hermione didn't catch sight of him again.

Smoke, and fire, and a thick haze seared her lungs, lingering from hours before.

There had been an elation to see Draco, alive, replaced quickly with a panic and a mad dash to escape from the Room of Hidden Things.

And while Hermione felt no great sympathy over the loss of Crabbe, especially after the Slytherin had nearly succeeded in killing them all, she knew he had been a childhood friend of Draco's.

She had caught his gaze, once they emerged into the hallway, and she saw relief, mingled with pain. The room in which they had shared so many memories – had now served to nearly extinguish them both.

He had nearly stepped towards her – but Harry still had a mission to complete, and Hermione tore herself away before she could think twice.

She hadn't seen Draco again until the smoke cleared, the ash and dust settled in what remained of the Great Hall.

And despite everything they had been through, everything he had done, Hermione's heart raced with hope and the solace that he had survived and she had survived and –

She found her eyes drifting across the room and her gaze caught on a flash of blond.

Draco stood with his parents, the three of them looking out of sorts and Hermione might have run to him but for the heaviness that surrounded her. They had lost friends and family and Hermione didn't know whether her heart had room for any more devastation.

She caught his eye across the Hall, and watched as he exhaled a long breath. The corners of his lips tugged up into something that might have been a smile, but it vanished as his focus snapped to his father.

But something lingered in the final glance he gave her as he left with his parents – something akin to hope, encouragement, grace – and it left Hermione feeling restless.

Five years.

Five. Years.

The sentence rang out and rattled within Hermione's brain as she stared, tears breaking from her gaze, and all she could see was his white-knuckled fingers as they clenched the seat in the Wizengamot chamber upon which he was sitting.

Chains, the length of his arms and legs, prevented him from moving.

But all Hermione could see was his fingers, as her vision blurred and she found she was whispering under her breath. No no no no no –

For all their testimonies, for the information she had fed Draco's lawyer, and despite that he hadn't done anything in comparison to some of the life-long Death Eaters.

He would be going to Azkaban, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She forced her gaze up, and could scarcely see the details of his face through her own tears, but he was frowning, his brow furrowed as he stared at her.

"It's unfair," she whispered, shaking her head in horror, as someone tugged on her arm.

"Come on, Hermione." It was Harry. "We need to go."

"It's so wrong," she whispered, imploring Harry to understand. "He didn't –"

"I know," Harry said, his tone gruff, "but there's nothing more we can do. Malfoy's made his bed and now he'll have to do the time like the rest of them."

She shook her head in fervent denial, and when she looked back Draco was being led away by two Aurors, the magical shackles dragging behind him.

He grimaced as he looked back at her and then he was gone.

August, 2003

Her focus was intense as she held two peaches, one in each hand. Selecting one, Hermione stowed it in the bag with the rest, handing the vendor a paper note, before carrying on through the fresh market.

She kept her attention on the produce as she passed, unwilling to allow her mind to drift.

It had been through a very particular sort of compartmentalization that Hermione had managed to stay in Ronda, since the announcement in The Daily Prophet two months previous.

Because if she had thought on it for too long, she would have run back to London – and the only thing that likely awaited her there was disappointment and unfulfilled dreams. She didn't know whether she had the mental strength left for that.

Draco had been free from Azkaban from two months and had not owled, or reached out to her in any capacity. There would be nothing to gain if she were to uproot herself with all the spontaneity of a flighty youth, and return to a place that held only painful memories.

And so she had remained in Spain, going about her business, only with a far more concerted effort to fix her attention on her usual routine.

She was the sole proprietor of a small bookshop, after all, and she couldn't simply close the doors and vanish for an undetermined amount of time.

If anything, after five years, Hermione was finally able to seek the closure and resolution she had never been given, after Draco had been taken to Azkaban. She had thought to visit him, at the time, but had never plucked up the nerve – not knowing where they stood anymore – and had shortly thereafter left London for the small Andalusian town.

The last of her purchases complete for the day, Hermione made her way to the exit of the market, nearly stumbling into someone in her inattentiveness.

"Con permiso," Hermione murmured as she carried on, her gaze fixed ahead.

She faltered a step when a deep voice said, "perdón, señora."

She didn't recognize the voice – but there was something familiar in the tone that caused her to freeze, her heart leaping into her throat as she turned on the spot.

The breath was swept from her lungs at a flash of platinum blond, and her eyes widened as they found themselves caught in a shade of grey she knew so well.

It was Draco Malfoy, in her small Spanish town, and Hermione felt her mouth fall open, her throat dry, as a quick breath escaped her lungs.

He wore a crisp white shirt with a simple grey tie and trousers; his blond hair was longer than it had been in school, and the bone structure of his face had filled out and matured – but it was unmistakable.

His stance was hesitant, his expression carefully blank.

With the belated realization that she was staring, Hermione said, "Hi."

"Hi." His lips twitched. "You are a difficult woman to track down."

Hermione wasn't sure whether she was breathing. "Is that so?"

Draco cocked his head to one side; there was something in his gaze that Hermione hadn't seen before – something darker – something pained. Something, perhaps, that Azkaban had left in his soul.

His voice was soft when he replied, "It is."

"And," she said, swallowing, "why have you tracked me down?"

"Call it unanswered questions," he said, his brows flickering. "Will you join me for a coffee? Or, have you someone who wouldn't appreciate that?"

"No," Hermione responded, blinking. "There isn't anyone."

There was something in his face akin to relief – and it set her heart stammering against the inside of her chest. It might have been reminiscent of hope.

Faltering for a moment, Hermione carried on, "Yes, I'll join you."

There was an unfamiliar tension that hung between them, and Hermione attributed it to the five years he had spent in prison – and the unsettled way things had ended between them in sixth year, which felt like so long ago.

But his lips curved with the faintest hint of a smile and Hermione wanted to kiss him.

"Great," he clipped with a short nod. "Where's good around here?"

"There's a nice bistro down the way in the bookshop," Hermione said with a vague gesture. "They serve the best cup of tea in town."

Draco stared down the road at the idyllic scenery and the rough, cobbled roads that Hermione had come to associate with home. His gaze floated back to land on Hermione, and something in his eyes made her stomach flip. "Sounds perfect."

Hitching her bag around her shoulder, Hermione led him in the direction of the bookshop, her gaze fixed ahead of her while he kept a careful distance. The last thing she needed was to misunderstand his purpose here and allow her hopes to lift without cause.

And besides – they had been so young when they had fallen in love. She didn't even know him anymore.

"This is a beautiful town," Draco said, breaking the tense silence between them. "The mountains and all. I can see why you would have chosen to move here."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "It's lovely. And the people have been very welcoming."

His lips twitched. "It's very… Hermione Granger."

She cast him a sidelong glance, ignoring the shivers that chased her spine at the way her name rolled off his tongue, even now. "How have you been?"

He stared at her as he walked, his face deadpan, and Hermione remembered with a belated and stifled groan, that his time in prison probably hadn't been very enjoyable.

"The past two months were a whirlwind," he said with a concise clip to his tone. "Prior to that, of course… there were a handful of years that weren't excellent."

They arrived at the bookshop and Hermione hesitated with her hand on the door. "I was sorry… that you had been sentenced. I tried…"

Anything she could say didn't seem substantial enough to make up for the injustice he had faced and so she pressed her lips shut.

"I heard," Draco said, "you were working with my lawyer. I appreciated your efforts."

"Obviously they were insufficient," Hermione said, a flush creeping to her cheeks as she glanced away. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, "You were still sentenced to such a long term."

His voice matched hers. "I don't think there was anything anyone could have done to change the Wizengamot's decision. They already knew what was going to happen to me before the trial began."

Hermione breathed, "Was it awful?"

"It wasn't the worst experience of my life," he said, his eyes flickering to the door where her hand was still frozen on the handle. "With the Dementors gone, I was able to keep my mind and my memories. But the guards were terrible all the same."

Swallowing, Hermione pushed open the door and led him into the small cafeteria just off the main entrance of the bookshop. His gaze swept the eclectic decor as she selected a table.

"This is also very Hermione Granger," he murmured, his grey eyes catching hers. "I can see why you like it."

"Indeed," Hermione said, as a waitress came over with a wide smile.

"Hermione!" the girl exclaimed in a thick Spanish accent. "I wasn't expecting to see you here today."

And it occurred to Hermione in that moment, as the girl's gaze swept to Hermione's unexpected – and handsome – companion, that perhaps she should not have brought Draco to her bookshop.

"Right, Camila, this is Draco," Hermione said with an awkward gesture, realizing she hadn't even said his name, and the word felt foreign on her tongue.

"Hello," Camila said with a coy smile, and she took their order.

Draco turned to Hermione after the girl had walked away, shaking his head. "I can't believe it even took me this long. You own this place, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a smile.

He was staring at her with a gaze that made her insides twist again. "So you finished Hogwarts, moved to Spain, opened a bookstore –"

"I didn't finish my NEWTs," Hermione whispered, making a face. "I meant to, and I made the arrangements to return…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I couldn't manage it. And I just left."

He swallowed, staring at her. "Why?"

Her mouth felt dry. "Why do you think?"

"Hermione," he breathed, a furrow coming to his brow as he released a sharp exhale. "It's been a long time." He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced around the shop. "If I could go back and change things –"

"It's fine," Hermione said, holding up a hand.

"It isn't fine, it's important," he said, his voice soft. Hermione glanced up and met his gaze. "I should never had pushed you away, but I was so bloody terrified you were going to get caught in the middle of things, or killed, and it was going to be my fault –"

He paused as Camila delivered their drinks with a knowing smile.

"Draco," Hermione choked, her eyes stinging. She took a deep breath. "Neither of us knew what was going to happen back then. If we had stayed together... "

"I've regretted what I did every single day," he said, his eyes wide. "In Azkaban, it was only the memories of you that kept me focused. Even when I wanted to give up hope, when I thought you probably would have moved on, I convinced myself there was still some small sliver of hope that you might still feel the same."

Her mind was abuzz as his words floated, disjointed, into her brain. She simply stared, her face blank.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, but he wasn't done. "When I was released and I couldn't track you down in London, I figured you had gone on and married – you were out of my reach, and I was prepared to live with that – but then I learned you had moved away."

"I needed to be someplace that didn't remind me of you," Hermione breathed, the words awkward as they fell from her tongue. "I never could quite get past you, Draco."

He swallowed, sorrow heavy in his brow.

"I wish I hadn't left you to wonder for all these years," he said. "And it's selfish of me to say, but I'm glad you never moved on."

"I tried," Hermione whispered, shaking her head. "But I couldn't do it. Not knowing that – one day – I might get a chance to see you again."

Draco took a sip of his tea, his gaze fixed on her. "I know I probably don't deserve it –" he glanced away, tapping his coaster on the table, "but I would do anything for another chance."

Hermione frowned, even as her stomach flipped and her heart raced. "I've settled my life here… I don't know that I can just go back to London, after all these years."

He looked at her again, deadpan. "I did say anything, didn't I? I told you, I like this town."

Her heart leapt into her throat. Her voice carried a slight tremble as she said, "You don't even know me anymore."

"I know it's been seven years and I've never stopped loving you." He took another sip of tea, as if his casual statement hadn't imploded her entire universe. "You pulled me through five years in Azkaban, Hermione, just the memory of you."

Her shoulders sagged with the release of a tension she had carried for so many years. She breathed, "I've missed you every day."

"I don't have much to offer you," Draco said, frowning. "Most of the familial assets were seized when I went to Azkaban, aside from the Manor."

"I don't need anything."

All she cared about, was what he had already offered – his heart. His grey eyes met hers and she nearly broke at what she found within his gaze.

His lips quirked with a hint of a smile and he said, in a melodic sort of lilt, "When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours."

Hermione heard the word he didn't need to say. Still. Her heart seized on a beat.

"You watched it again," she said.

"It was a good movie," he said with a shrug, "even though the lions were completely unrealistic."

"You liked it anyway," Hermione whispered, feeling confused tears sting her eyes.

"I liked it because you liked it," Draco said. "But I loved you, so –"

"You learned the songs," Hermione interrupted, grinning, a smile of relief and hope and promise of a future together.

He smiled too, a slow, searing crooked grin that reached his eyes, for the first time Hermione could remember, and the tears broke with happiness from her eyes.

"I can't believe this," she whispered, swiping at the moisture.

Draco breathed, his expression serious, "I can't believe you waited for me."

Hermione took his hand across the table, weaving her fingers between his. "I don't know that there was ever any other option for me."

He shook his head, a sharp bite of laughter escaping. "I told you, Granger, it would always be you."

And despite everything they had been through, everything she had watched him struggle with – they had made it out. And there was a chance, now, for them to give it a real shot, without the dark chains of war hanging over them.

A chance for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy – finally. His grey eyes sparkled as they met hers.

Her lips tugged into a watery smile. "Come on. I'll show you the town."