Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 20,008

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: Prepare for teh ANGST!

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Ron had finally drifted off to sleep. That is if the earth shattering snores emanating from him were any indication. At rest his pale freckled face looked free of the pain that Hermione was certain still coursed through every cell of his body, though he was too medicated to notice it. Almost three months had gone by since his bruised and battered body had been dumped in front of the gates of Hogwarts, but he had suffered through so many curses and beatings that the healing process had been arduously slow.

Back in January when Hermione first laid eyes on his unconscious form she had believed Ron dead, because how could someone who looked like that possibly still be alive. It was just too cruel! But it turned out that Ron did survive the torture he endured at Voldemort's hands. He just remained unresponsive in the shell of his body all these months. All of them had been praying for a miracle, that he would wake-up, and finally he had.

Until the moment that he actually opened his eyes they hadn't known when Ron would get better or even if he would recover. Unbeknownst to his two best friends, Madame Pomfrey had suggested to the Weasleys that they begin preparing for the worse. With heavy hearts they had actually left their son's side for once so they could prepare his bedroom at the Burrow for him. If these were Ron's last days they wanted to share them with the rest of their children together as a family. Although Harry and Hermione knew nothing of this, they had reached the point where they were almost out of hope that they would ever have their friend back with them again. So of course this was when Ron decided to surprise them all.

Before the miraculous and disturbing occurrence took place, Hermione and Harry had been following their typical daily routine as of late; wake-up, eat breakfast, sit with Ron, attend Order Meeting, do research in library, eat lunch, sit with Ron, practice sword dueling with Draco, eat dinner, sit with Ron, go to bed. They had just come from having lunch in the Great Hall. Harry was seated in a chair next to Ron's bed and was reading to him from a letter that Ginny had sent with Bill that day. Hermione had placed herself on the bed, holding one of Ron's hands as she inwardly scolded herself for being a jealous shrew and begrudging Ginny the contact that she had tried to maintain with Harry through out the War. Even though the two of them had been broken up for months, that did not keep the youngest Weasley from trying to retain her place in Harry's affections.

She would send him a letter at least once a week by way of one of her brothers anytime one of them would come by the castle to visit Ron. The letters were always lighthearted and gay, and detailed anything from the latest creature no one but Luna was certain existed, to the most recent experiment poor Neville had been subjected to at the hands of Fred and George. Harry would read these letters to Ron, no matter how personal they might get, in hopes that Ron would hear his sister's zany ramblings and perhaps smile; let them know that he was still with them.

It was at these times that Hermione would be painfully reminded just why Ginny was the kind of girl that Harry needed, the kind of girl that Harry would want. She brought light to his gloom. She was fun and full of life, when all Harry had surrounding him was death at every turn. And more importantly, when her letters ended "With All My Love, Ginny", it was a heartfelt declaration that Harry could hold on to. It wasn't messy and complicated. The last thing Harry needed right now was messy and complicated.

The big dramatic awakening happened right when Harry had stammered onto the part in Ginny's letter where she was confiding a dream she'd had about him just the night before. Although Hermione found it childish and tame by most standards, consisting of a stroll along the lake, a blanket of rose petals, and Celestina Warbeck warbling off in the distance something about "....a cauldron built for two", that did not stop Harry from blushing to his roots as his eyes nervously skirted from Hermione's. Nor did it hinder Ron from sitting straight up off the bed and wailing his mother's name over and over again. The timing of the whole thing would have been hilarious if Ron hadn't sounded like he was being flayed alive.

It only took a moment for Harry and Hermione to spring into action. She ran for the school nurse's office, while Harry cast on Ron any charm he could think of that might provide his best friend with some form of relief. Hearing Ron's screams, Madame Pomfrey, as well as a dozen or so of the castle's living denizens (and some of the not so living ones too) came streaming through the door to see what the commotion was all about. Once assessing the situation, Madame Pomfrey tried to calm Ron down, but ended up ordering Hermione to her cabinet to get a vial of Calming Draught as well as something to ease Ron's pain. The old nurse, Harry, and Tonks meanwhile tried to hold Ron down so he wouldn't hurt himself. Hermione got the potions, managed to climb her way back onto the bed, straddled the thrashing, panicked patient, and somehow forced the contents of both glass tubes passed Ron's clenched teeth.

In all of the fuss not one person had noticed Hermione slipping a vial of Dreamless Sleep into her jean pocket beforehand.

After a while Ron started to calm down, but not before yelling out atrocity after atrocity he had seen and been put through. The images were so fresh inside his head that for all he knew they had happened just the day before.

When Tonks asked him if he knew anything about Remus, Ron's dear, tear streaked face seemed to crumble from the weight of the question. He told her that he heard Remus' voice begging for his potion one night, not too long after their capture, but after that single instance he never heard it again. That revelation was enough to send Tonks out of the room quickly as her day-glo yellow hair slowly transformed to a mousy brown.

When Mr. Shacklebolt questioned him, much to Madame Pomfrey's consternation, as to what Voldemort's minions had done to him and just what he might have said to the enemy, Ron openly wept and begged Harry for his forgiveness. Voldemort had taken part in his torture personally and Ron, wanting his misery to end by any means, told him everything about the Horcruxes; which ones had been destroyed, which ones hadn't. Harry only took Ron in his arms and told him that there was nothing to forgive. Judging by the look of Ron when he had been returned to them it was plainly obvious that he had endured a great deal of pain before they had finally broken him.

Harry only asked if Ron had any idea where he might have been held captive. At this question a few of the older Order members in the room went deathly quiet. Mr. Shacklebolt and Bill traded loaded glances, Headmistress McGonagall quickly left the Infirmary, and Hagrid began fretfully wringing his hands. Hermione found the whole thing peculiar. For months they all had been wondering where Voldemort's base of operation was. At least Hermione thought they all had been wondering about it. But as Ron leaned in and whispered to Harry what he knew, and Mr. Shacklebolt motioned to the old school nurse to get Harry away from the bed, an unsettling realization occurred to her. They already knew! The more senior members of the Order, they had all probably known where Voldemort's lair was all along.

When Harry turned around and searched the faces of those closest to him it was clear that he had reached the same conclusion as Hermione. In a toneless voice he asked no one in particular just how long it had been known that Death Eaters had taken up residence in the previously believed empty Azkaban. Mr. Shacklebolt informed him that Viktor Krum had gotten word to them about it right before the Battle of Hogsmeade. Viktor had been working for the Order as a double agent in a Death Eater cell in Dublin.

Headmistress McGonagall came striding into the Infirmary at this point. With an air of authority she explained to Harry in a no nonsense way that a decision had been made to keep that information amongst a select group of Order members. When Ron and Remus went missing it wasn't known for sure if they had been taken to Azkaban. Once Ron had been exchanged for the last Horcrux in their possession, they still decided to keep their silence. Harry asked why, but it was clear to Hermione what the answer was. They were afraid that their Chosen One would have marched off, half-cocked, to seek vengeance on the Dark Lord all by himself. The Headmistress said as much to him, just in a more diplomatic and wordy manner.

After hearing the answer, Harry gave Ron's shoulder a squeeze and made his way to the door. As he passed by her, the Headmistress informed him that she had already been to his room and had collected his broom, his invisibility cloak, and Gryffindor's sword from his trunk. He just wasn't ready for his face-off with Lord Voldemort yet, she told him. Harry only shook his head forlornly as he tore his saddened, disillusioned eyes from her and exited the room.

Hermione made a move to go after him when she felt Ron's roughened hand latch on to her forearm. She looked down at his face, made drowsy by the potions, and saw the entreaty written across it though he was too tired to give it voice; stay. Hermione briefly wondered if this would be her fate for the rest of her life; wanting desperately to follow Harry out of a door, any door, while trying to convince herself that her place should be beside Ron. Not wanting to think too hard on the matter, she decided to stay. She gently took Ron's hand in hers and sat back on the bed. She placed a small kiss on his forehead and tenderly brushed back his ruff of red hair. It was only after sleep claimed him that Hermione left to find Harry.

She found him in the boys' room in the South Tower. He was busy tossing objects here and there from out of his trunk while muttering curses under his breath. Every now and then he would stuff an item into a rucksack that was on his bed. He didn't even pay her entrance into the room notice. Draco had been sitting on his bed watching Harry's frenzy with a studied measure of interest and disdain.

"Draco," she said to him, "could you please give Harry and I a few minutes alone?"

The Slytherin looked completely displeased with the request, but before he could open his mouth and toss off one of his typical smart arsed remarks, Hermione looked him directly in the eye.

"Please?" she asked again.

Draco took one look at her pleading face before briefly nodding his head and walking out the door.

"Neat trick," Harry said barely glancing at her as he continued to rummage through his trunk in search of something. "Did you also teach him how to roll over and play dead?"

Hermione ignored the remark.

"Where are you going?"

Harry continued his search for whatever item was eluding him by moving things to the floor. He was now on his belly rooting his hands under the bed.

"Harry?" she tried again, closing the distance between them though her feet felt as though they were made of lead. "Aren't you even going to answer me?"

She tried to keep a hurt, saddened note out of her voice, but it still seemed to come out if the annoyed and exasperated look that Harry shot her was any indication.

He stopped what he was doing and stared her down with his green, steel eyed gaze. He rose up from the floor, a silver and red feather quill in his hand, and asked, "Why, Hermione? I tell you a lie; you know it's a lie. I tell you the truth, you already knew the answer."

His embittered laugh came out as a snort.

"Why bother?"

"Harry, Ron..."

She turned her head for a moment to think of something to say.

"Ron will be ok. Ron will get better," she finally settled on as she tried to smile at him reassuringly.

The smile, however, died due to the contempt she felt surging from him.

"Listen, I know you're upset..."

He threw the quill down on the bed and looked at her disbelievingly.

"UPSET?!" he bellowed. "UPSET?! My best mate...the bloke who is the closest thing in the world I'll ever have to a brother is hanging to life by a thread and you think that I'm just upset?!"

He shook his head as he turned his back to her dismissively.

"Good to know how much you care about your own boyfriend there, Hermione."

If he had been looking for some way to hurt her, some way to pick at the scabs she had covering her own self-loathing and doubt, he had found the perfect weapon in his words. But instead of shrinking back from them, the fighter in her struck back. She grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him back around so he could see just how seriously she took his jibe.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK THAT WAY TO ME AGAIN!" she shouted as she wiped furiously at the tears that had begun to fall fast down her cheeks. "Do you think you are the only person hurting here, Harry?! Do you really think that I'll ever get the sound of Ron screaming for his mother out of my head?! Do you really think that lowly of me?!"

At the sight of Hermione's teary face something in Harry just seemed to collapse. He sunk down onto the bed wearily and hung his head.

"No," he simply said.

Hermione knelt down on the floor before him and gathered both of his hands in hers.

"Good," she said as a tiny smile curved her lips. "Because I think it would break my heart to discover that the person I believe in more than anyone in this world thought so little of me."

"It's just..." Harry paused in frustration trying to find the proper words to continue. "It's just that they are doing it again, Hermione! I have people telling me what they think I should know. If Dumbledore hadn't done that to me maybe Sirius would still be alive. Now the same thing has possibly cost me Remus...almost Ron..."

Hermione felt guilt slice through her belly. Wasn't she just as guilty of doing the same thing to Harry? Wasn't she culpable of the same crime? Keeping things from Harry, for his own good, she would tell herself. Not telling him things for fear of what his reaction would be, for fear of what the truth would do to them all. No, she told herself. There was a good reason to keep it from him! She just had to keep reminding herself that every waking minute.

Harry's grip on her tightened, painfully almost, as she brought her attention back to him.

"I won't let them take you away from me! I won't! I WON'T!" he cried.

Whether he was trying to force her to believe it or himself, she wasn't sure, but she somehow managed to release Harry's hold on one of her hands so she could bring it up to his face and lovingly caress his cheek.

"This ends now, Hermione! I'm taking the fight to him now!"

"But we haven't even destroyed all of the Horcruxes, Harry−"

"THEN I'LL KILL HIM AGAIN!" he exclaimed. "AND AGAIN...AND AGAIN! And I'll keep killing him until Riddle gets the fucking message and stays dead this time! I can't sit around waiting any longer."

He wrapped damp fingers around the hand that still stroked at his face.

"I can't wait anymore, Hermione; too much is at stake now."

"But what about the sword, Harry?" she asked. "McGonagall is not going to just allow you to waltz in her office and..."

Before Hermione could finish her sentence, Harry pulled his wand out of the pocket of his baggy cargo kecks. He then picked up the feather that lay on the bed next to where he sat. He pointed his wand at it and said, "Reverto". Before her very eyes Hermione watched the ordinary quill transform itself into Gryffindor's ruby encrusted blade.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, voice registering clear amazement at his ingenuity. She even smiled as she saw Harry modestly duck his head for a moment to hide the scarlet blush on his cheeks.

"McGonagall has the actual quill," he told her. "I figured something like this would happen. I've been changing them back and forth for the last few weeks."

Hermione grinned at him, eyes brimming with pride.

"Well, despite your blatant paranoia, it was a brilliant move!"

Harry's bashful smile slowly wilted as he carefully laid the sword down next to him and pulled Hermione into a forceful embrace. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her own arms around his waist and pressed her face into the cotton of his shirt. She was too scared to speak, too scared of what words would come tumbling out of her mouth, so instead she said nothing at all. Just breathed in his clean crisp scent of sandalwood and spice that she often imagined clung to the air when she awakened most mornings. As tears sprang to her eyes, she closed them tightly and silently prayed that she wouldn't sob into his shirt.

"We can't fight Riddle by committee any longer. We've been doing this wrong all along, don't you see?" Harry pleaded as he bowed his head into her unruly curls. She could almost picture his lips lightly pressed into the veil of her dark hair.

"Don't fight me on this," he murmured faintly. "It all falls on me now. That's the way it has to be and this is what I have to do. Tell me you understand that, Hermione. Please."

It was in that moment that Hermione realized that she didn't want to tell him she understood; she wanted to show him. She wanted to show him what it felt like to do something your heart begged of you. She wanted to let him know that she understood what it meant to want to give yourself over to that urge deep inside that demanded to be fulfilled. She could so easily see herself surrendering to that calling even now, even at this moment when it felt like their world was falling to pieces around them.

How very easy would it be to just give in? Just a lift of her head would bring Harry's lips in contact with her own. Sure he would be confused, especially when she snaked her arms around his neck in an effort to fuse their two bodies together, but once she made the move to push him back onto the bed she was sure she could find some way to dispel his uncertainty. Maybe she could sway his doubts by unfastening the buttons of his blue shirt one by one until she pulled back the material to reveal the smooth, hairless flesh she knew lay beneath. She could then allay his fears by tracing a single fingernail in a swirling, looping pattern up the length of his chest, and then follow that trail back down using only her tongue.

Or she could just cut to the chase, straddle him, and methodically grind him into an erection until her name was the only coherent word he could manage.

What male teenager would turn that down? What randy, quivering ball of 17 old boy would not take from a girl in his lap what she so obviously wished to give, regardless of who it was? At least that's what the soothing, persuasive, oh so compelling voice crooned in her ears. Do it Hermione, it seemed to say. Take it, Hermione. He wants it too can't you see, it hissed. Ginny may have the rest, but this you can claim. You would be the first, Hermione. No one else, it would always be you...always you. It can be his and your secret. And you'll always have the memory of it if Harry should die...

"NO!" she cried out as she forcefully threw herself backwards from out of Harry's arms, successfully landing herself on her bottom. Her eyes screwed shut as she clamped her hands over her ears to block out that voice. To quiet that voice! Dear Merlin, when would she ever stop hearing it?!

"NO!" she shouted again and again. "No! No! No! No! No!"

When Hermione finally opened her eyes again the sight that greeted her was Harry's completely flummoxed face looking at her worriedly. He looked completely taken aback by her hysterical fit. He tried to ask her what had brought about such a reaction, but Hermione merely shook her head and cut him off as she scuttled back over to him on her hands and knees.

"I won't let you go!" she told him fiercely, kneeling directly in front of him again. "I won't let you go without me!"

Judging by Harry's frowning face this news did not please him.

"Not going to happen," he said as he firmly shook his head. "It was sweet and touching the way that you and Ron sacrificed so much to come with me this far, but this is where it ends! You are not coming with me!"

"The hell I'm not!" Hermione retorted as she rose from the floor and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not the girl who sits at the window and waits for the great conquering hero to return. I'll never be that girl! I'm the girl who is going to be right by your side making sure that you stay alive. And if you think otherwise then you really are mad!"

During all of this Harry had gotten up from the bed, re-transfigured the sword into a quill, and began packing his bag again. He pretended as though he couldn't hear Hermione nattering on, but it was obvious by the surly look on his face that he was hearing every word. Hermione was shocked that there weren't little puffs of steam shooting out of his ears.

"I'm going with you, Harry," she said again calmly.

"NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME," he said, having heard enough of her foolishness, jabbing his finger in the air at her. "YOU ARE GOING TO STAY RIGHT HERE WITH RON AND-"

"AND WHAT, HARRY?!" Hermione shouted as she came closer to him.

This action only caused him to take a step back.

"And what?! When Ron wakes up again and asks me why the hell I'm not with you, helping you, protecting you like he and I both agreed, just what am I supposed to tell him? How am I supposed to look him in the eye? If our roles were reversed and I was the one in the Infirmary Ron would follow after you just the same! AND YOU KNOW THIS!"

Before Hermione could even register it, Harry had bounded up to her and grabbed her roughly by her arms. He shook her roughly as he frantically searched her eyes.

"DON'T YOU GET IT?!" he roared as he gave her another shake. "THAT VERY WELL COULD BE YOU! Do you know what that would do to me?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA?!"

Hermione pulled herself from his grasp, but didn't step back from him.

"Do you know what it will do to me knowing that you are out there, somewhere needing me, and I can't get to you?"

The question seemed to strike some chord in Harry. He despondently sighed as he turned away from her and crossed to the other side of the room to put as much distance between them as he could. His hand tugged roughly at his hair. Hermione, however, wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

"Now the way I see it," she said as she slowly trailed after him, "we could do this two ways. You could either wait right here while I run and get the bag I've had packed for weeks in case something like this were to happen. Or you could slip out of the castle and just take off. But know this, I will come after you. No matter how hard you work to cover your tracks, no matter where you decide to hide; I will try to find you. And maybe I will. Or maybe I'll get lost in the Forbidden Forest and an acromantula will happen on me and tear me limb from limb. But make no mistake, Harry; I will not just stay put. Now you decide which."

She stopped right behind him. As he turned his agonized, tormented eyes towards her she felt her heart hitch. Harry's green eyes seemed to beg her not to make this so hard, but Hermione knew that she fully meant every word she said and had no intention of taking any of it back.

"You're not being fair," he half-pleaded, half-protested.

"I don't care," she wholeheartedly replied.

"YOU COULD DIE!"

"I don't care!" She said this just as earnestly as the first time.

Hermione could see the inner debate that raged inside of Harry play out on his face. She knew that Harry would risk his own life to keep her safe and from harm. But she also knew that there was no way that Harry was leaving the castle unless she was attached to his hip somehow. Long ago she and Ron had made a decision to see this thing with Harry through to the very end. Although Ron wouldn't be able to make this final step with them in body, Hermione knew that he would be right along with them in spirit. But no matter what, no matter how this all finished, Harry was not going to face it alone. If she had to beat this realization into him with her own small fists she would! Luckily he looked like he had come to the same conclusion.

"Change into some dark clothing and get your bag," he told her resolutely, his eyes alight with acceptance as he eked out a painful smile for her benefit.

Hermione only stared at him for a moment before she grabbed him in a quick hug that seemed to take the wind out of him then turned for the door. She was about to cross the threshold when a small stab of fear entered her heart. What if he was just placating her? What if Harry was just saying what he knew would get her out of the way for a moment so he could escape the castle with her being none the wiser?

Hermione turned back to see Harry still packing his bag. She opened her mouth to accuse him of this very thing, but couldn't bring herself to say it. Thankfully Harry happened to look her way at that very moment.

"I'll still be here," was what he said; effectively dissolving her insecurities. She shyly smiled and began to turn and walk out the door again when suddenly another issue occurred to her.

"Harry," she began as she started towards him again, "how are we going to get to Azkaban?" she asked. "Did you transfigure your broom too?"

Harry sighed as he pushed his glasses, which had slid down his nose, up again.

"'Fraid not," he said gloomily. "I didn't expect McGonagall to confiscate the Firebolt. But don't worry, it's alright."

"Sure it is," she said brightly. "We could use Ron's broom or...or...one of the school brooms."

Hermione didn't bother suggesting Buckbeak. After Harry's dramatic exit from earlier, Hermione had overheard the Headmistress telling Hagrid to lock up all of the flying beasts. Hagrid didn't look like he was too fond of filling the request, but Hermione was sure he complied.

"Seriously Hermione, I've got it covered. We won't be needing a broom. I have a plan."

Though the word "plan" alone should have given her pause, Hermione looked at Harry bewilderedly and asked, "Then how are we going to get there?"

At her question a mischievous grin formed on Harry's innocent seeming face. If ever a look told Hermione that she was not going to like the answer, this look said it. She actually found herself wanting to swallow a huge lump in her throat, but found her mouth dry as sand and unable to accomplish it.

"Let's just say I have an alternate means of transportation," Harry said.

And then he winked.

Hermione finally found what she needed to swallow that lump.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

If she knew the circumstances in which she would be flying through the near dusk sky, Hermione wouldn't have changed her decision to go with Harry to Azkaban. That being said, Hermione didn't think she much cared for riding around on motorcycles! Especially ones that so blatantly disregarded the laws of gravity.

When she became aware of what the so-called plan entailed she had to fight off the compulsion to scream her head off and sprint in the opposite direction. Harry actually had the nerve to smirk at the sight of her stricken face. It was that alone that forced Hermione to straighten her shoulders, lift her chin superiorly, and gracefully climb onto the machine behind him. She couldn't help it if she yelped out loud and clutched his midsection tightly when he playfully revved the engine.

Hermione might have enjoyed his mirth even though it was at her own expense; that he could still find some lightness in such a dark moment, if she hadn't been too busy trying not to lose her lunch (no pun intended) on the back of Harry's dark cloak. For such a frequent traveler Hermione was actually deathly afraid of flying. Her years spent at Hogwarts hadn't cured her of this either. She was a witch who had an unnatural aversion to brooms. And though she had gotten over her initial wariness of the creatures, hippogriffs and thestrals gave her no comfort either. She would have still preferred any of these options in place of sneaking off to Azkaban on a bloody flying motorcycle!

She assumed Harry inherited it along with the rest of Sirius' estate, but she hadn't the foggiest idea when he might have learned to ride the blasted thing. Instead of asking though, she decided to focus all of her attention on not swallowing her tongue. Still, despite her terror that any moment she would go splat, Hermione had to admire the confidence and ease in which Harry guided the motorcycle through the sky. He was just so naturally good at almost anything he put his mind to. In her mind's eye she could almost see the look of pure rapture on his face, triumph in his eyes that was ever present when he mastered something. It would be the same expression he wore when he knocked Draco's blade from his hands after executing a difficult move, or held the Snitch up high for everyone in the stands to see. It was that look that often sent shivers down Hermione's spine, like it did now just thinking about it.

She felt some of her jittery nerves settle as she tightened her hold on Harry and rested her cheek against his strong and surprisingly wide back. Although Ron might have been the more physically impressive of the two boys, that is if you liked your men roughly the size of the Alaskan arctic polar bear, in Hermione's opinion something had to be said about broad shoulders that tapered down to slim waists, nicely defined arms, compact wiry frames, and a bum that would make any witch go...ARGH! Goddamned these ruddy hormones!

Azkaban prison was located on an island called Out Stack in the North Sea. It was part of the Shetland Islands, but was considered uninhabitable by Muggles. To those without magical eyes it was little more than an outcrop in the middle of nowhere and of no use to anyone. However for hundreds of years Azkaban, as the island eventually came to be known as well was the place thousands upon thousands of criminals who ran afoul of the British Ministry of Magic called home.

When transporting a prisoner to the island, the guilty wizard or witch would be brought to the tiny inlet of Moray Firth where a portkey station was located. The prisoner, chained between two high ranking Aurors, would be handed a scroll detailing the crimes they were guilty of which would then portkey all three of them to Unst, Shetland. From there the Aurors and their charge would go by boat to the small landing dock on Azkaban. During the calm, before the dementors sided with Voldemort, they would be the ones waiting to take the prisoner from the Aurors and lead him to the end of his sad journey; his cell. After the dementors left, this job fell to retired Hit Wizards. Once their time had been served, provided that they hadn't received a life sentence, the prisoner would go through the entire process in reverse receiving a portkey (in the form of his freedom papers) after landing in Unst again. After arriving in Moray Firth he was allowed to pursue what little was left of his life from there.

Sirius had shared all of this with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins once on a long ago afternoon at Grimmauld Place during their holiday break. Fred had asked him to tell them all about being taken to Azkaban and his miraculous escape. It was a day when Sirius was feeling particularly blue and had thought nothing of telling the kids such things. That is until Mrs. Weasley came into the room, gave him the evil eye, and shepherded all of the youngsters out of the parlor. Of course they all knew that Sirius had followed an alternate route off of the island, but because of the interruption they never got a chance to hear what it was. It might have been helpful to Harry and Hermione now, but once the dawn began to break and they had been flying around for hours, they decided to rest awhile, wait for nightfall, and continue on with their journey from there.

They came to a stop in the small northern village of John o' Groats in Caithness that was at the very tip of Scotland. Needing a place to stay, they happened on an out of the way farmhouse that had been converted into a bed and breakfast by its enterprising owner. Upon discussing with the proprietor, a Mrs. Kerr, the possibility of renting two rooms they learned to their dismay that two rooms was all the inn had, one of which was already taken. Hermione wished that the bony faced old woman hadn't mentioned the fact that it had been a room with twin beds, but she seemed rather proud that two scientists from Glasgow had decided to stay at her little B&B to study the colony of puffins that called the coastal town home.

Having bragged on this at length, she informed Harry and Hermione that the only other room she had was the "Honeymoon Suite", but being a decent Christian woman, she only allowed married couples to rent it out. She then distrustfully eyed the pair up and down. The two teenagers were clothed in their cloaks and each carried only a knapsack with them. With their young faces and wind blown hair they probably looked like a couple of trouble making hooligans to her. The huge motorcycle parked in the barn probably did little to dispel that assumption. Before Mrs. Kerr could turn them away though, Harry grabbed Hermione by the waist, pulled her to his side, and smilingly told the woman that it was lucky for all of them then that he had just married the pretty girl in his arms the day before. When Hermione let out a squeak of shock Harry, in a confidential-like stage whisper, told the inn keeper that his new bride was just a bit out of sorts. She had been set to marry another bloke when he stopped the ceremony, stole the bride, and ran for Gretna Green to elope with her. Now he and his new wife were on the run from her parents and the disgruntled ex-groom.

At this romantic and ridiculously convoluted story Mrs. Kerr's reticence towards them seemed to just melt. She told them that she just couldn't stand in the way of young love. Hermione had her own suspicions that Harry's green eyed gaze and charming smile that was just as good as any weapon also had something to do with her change of heart. When Mrs. Kerr asked them to follow her back to her guest book so she could sign them in, she asked what name to put the blushing newlyweds down as. With an infuriatingly straight face Harry told her, "Mr. and Mrs. Norris". As they were shown to their room, Hermione quietly grumbled under her breath so only Harry could hear her displeasure at being named after the damned cat.

Once in the grand Honeymoon Suite that consisted of a full sized bed, a night stand on both sides of it, and a small wardrobe, Hermione entered the connecting bathroom to wash her face. At least that was the excuse she gave Harry after she watched him take off his cloak and slump onto the bed without even taking off his trainers. At the sight of his form draped across the mattress, Hermione needed to leave the room fast so she could calm down her fluttering heart. She knew that somehow she would end up in the bed with Harry.

It wasn't like she could force him to the floor, the poor boy was exhausted from their long flight and he needed a restful nap. And if Hermione even made the pretense of bedding down on the carpet Harry would forbid it. The eventual stalemate would eventually lead them to sleeping side by side. Although sleeping next to him wouldn't be a new experience for her, doing so without Ron on the other side of Harry would be. Hermione was terrified of the prospect! She could almost hear that voice again, urging her on to what she knew she wanted to do. But Hermione was determined to drown that voice out.

On the counter top of the sink sat a stack of small paper cups. She took one, filled it with water from the tap, and after taking off her heavy cloak she pulled a glass vial from out of the pocket of her jeans. She mixed the contents of the vial with the water knowing that it would only dilute the taste of it. She lifted the cup to her lips and was about to drink from it when she heard Harry cry out from the adjoining room. She put the cup down and was out the door in a flash.

She found Harry on the bed, writhing and wailing in the grips of one of his night terrors. Hermione was used to this scene by now and knew the signs well. She crept to the side of the bed, shook him awake, and found herself in his arms again after his eyes took in her concerned face. She didn't bother asking what it was he dreamt of because she already knew. Death. It was always death. Hers, Ron's, Ginny's, all of the other Weasleys; it was always death.

Once she felt his breathing return to normal she pulled out of his embrace, closed the blinds to darken the room, and returned to the bathroom. She filled another paper cup with water, picked up the one she hadn't drank from yet, and walked back into the room. By this point Harry was sitting up in the bed, back against the headboard, long legs out before him. He had only his socks on his feet, though Hermione wasn't sure if he had taken off his shoes or if they had gotten kicked off during his tossing and turning from before. Whichever the case, she walked up to him and waited patiently for him to take the cup of water from her that she offered. Harry, however, chose to stare straight ahead, unblinking, as he studied the barren white wall in front of him. Hermione started to worry after he hadn't spoken for a while, his face looked just as blank as the wall, but when he finally began to talk his words held no comfort for her either.

"Hermione, if I die I want you and Ron to go on and try and live a happy life. I don't want you two to mourn for me."

Hermione gasped and her hands began to shake as water from both cups sloshed over their rims. She had to force herself to breathe in and out slowly. She also mentally counted to ten so she didn't just lose it right there in front of him.

It wasn't so much what he said that made it feel like someone was slowly suffocating her, robbing her of oxygen to her heart. It was the stark resignation with which he said it. He might have said "if", but he full well meant "when". Harry was preparing himself for his believed inevitable death, and because he cared for her, he wanted her to be ready for it too.

When he would plan Quidditch plays he would often try to visualize the game to its finale. Was that what he was doing now? On the verge of entering the biggest match of his life, was he preparing for defeat in case he fumbled the Snitch? As the realization of all of this sunk in, Hermione suddenly felt filled with fury. She didn't know who she was angrier at; herself for actually using a dumb Quidditch analogy or him for giving up so easily. Seeing as how she was a bit worn out from beating up on herself, for once she decided to turn the full brunt of her wrath on him. How dare he, she inwardly seethed. How dare he think she would even allow him to leave Ron and her! He didn't want them to mourn him, did he? Her eyes narrowed as she answered his request.

"Good, because we won't."

Harry's head swiveled towards her and shock was plainly apparent on his face. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. He tried to splutter out a response, but Hermione wouldn't allow him to. She shoved the paper cup into his hands instead and downed her own cup of the water in a single swallow. She then crumpled the cup in her hand and threw it on the night stand next to her.

"You don't have to worry about us mourning after you, Harry," she told him as she folded her arms bossily. "Because you are not going to die!"

Harry sighed sadly and drank his water. After placing his cup on the stand, he looked at her angry face again.

"The thing is I might die," he said. "Even if I somehow manage to kill Riddle, I might die as well."

He stretched himself out on the bed so that he could rest his arms under his head like a pillow. He turned his glassy eyes up towards the ceiling.

"I just think that you should be ready for it, that's all."

"Harry..."

"I'm ok with it," he said in a resolute tone. "I've accepted it. Ever since I was born all I've ever known was death." Harry glanced at her briefly before saying, "I really am ok, Hermione. I've made my peace with it."

If he had been hoping to comfort her by telling her all this he couldn't have found a worse way to go about it. What ever reticence Hermione had originally held when they walked through the door of the room instantly vanished as she purposefully climbed on the bed and knelt beside him.

"Now I'm willing to take a lot of stuff from you Harry James, but I will not just stand by and allow you to feel sorry for yourself!"

Harry's eyes slowly closed, yet Hermione knew by the pinched, argumentative look on his face that he still heard every word of her upbraid.

"All you've ever known was death?" she asked him disbelievingly. "Well what about love, Harry? Haven't you known love? You know your parents loved you. What about Ginny? What about Dumbledore...Sirius...Ron?"

She lay down on her side and positioned herself so she could look at Harry's tranquil, upturned face. In a voice, barely audible, she asked, "What about me?"

Harry's calm face screwed up momentarily as he mumbled in a groggy, confused voice a single name.

"Ginny?"

Hermione felt the sob bubble in her chest, begging to be expelled, but she fought it down. She wanted to just drown in her misery, just succumb to the ever present heartache that was her constant companion, but she knew that now was not the time. Harry still needed her. Harry was what was important, not her own petty wants and desires. She needed to do whatever it took to get him to the last leg of his journey. She would say anything if it meant that he would hold on to some hope. After all, that was all they had now, hope.

"Yes," she said, a single tear running down her cheek, "Ginny."

She then reached her hand out to touch his hair, but thinking better of it, drew it back.

"You've known love. However right now you are letting the darkness swallow you. You have to fight it, Harry! Don't let it blind you to all the good you've had in your life because if you do, we're all sunk."

Getting no response with that, Hermione slowly moved so she could lie on her back next to him. Although she tried her best not to physically touch him; puberty, and the size of the bed made that virtually impossible. Even through her thick jumper she could still feel the heat from his body. His very nearness was almost enough to overwhelm her, but she would not give into the need to lay her head on his chest. Instead she found a tiny crack in the ceiling above them and chose to focus on that instead. She never took her eyes from that spot, even as she began to speak again.

"You know, when I was a little girl my Nan used to tell me this old Irish fairytale about this magical land called Tír na nÓg. There was no death in Tír na nÓg. There was no old age in Tír na nÓg. The people of Tír na nÓg knew nothing of disease, hardship...suffering. And it was because of this those poor people never experienced joy. With nothing to compare it to, how would they ever have recognized it if they had. Don't you see Harry, you've known pain and sadness, but by that same token you have also known happiness, and friendship, and...and love. And that's what it's going to take to bring down Voldemort. Whatever you do remember that, use it, hold on to it. Don't discount it. Ok, Harry?"

Noticing that she hadn't heard a peep from him through out her speech, Hermione turned on her side as she said again, "Ok?"

The sight of Harry's peacefully resting face was all the answer she found. Hermione smiled. The Dreamless Sleep hadn't wasted much time taking effect.

When she nicked the vial out of Madame Pomfrey's supplies she barely wasted a guilty thought over her little act of thievery. She hadn't even been aware that she was going to take it until she was quickly sliding the glass tube into her pocket. Before she could contemplate what she had done any further, she was already running back towards Ron's bed in hopes of helping him.

But it was no accident that she picked up the potion. Since September she had been visited night after night with dreams she knew would never come true. Though her outward appearance gave no sign of it, inside Hermione felt like she was slowly coming undone. She needed some respite from her mind's night time wanderings and the Dreamless Sleep looked to be just the answer. Besides being a mild sedative, the potion would relieve her of the world she escaped to every time she closed her eyes in sleep. Not that these were nightmares she experienced, far from it. Hermione's dreamscape was a world that was peaceful, most times naughty, but always filled with so much heart rending beauty and love that she often found herself wanting to close her eyes again just to fall back into it as soon as she woke up each morning.

But it wasn't real! And it could never be real. And Hermione was tired of having to endure it. She had finally decided to take the easy way out. When her eyes fell on the potion vial she knew that if she took it no dreams would plague her sleep for once. She had every intention of drinking it once they arrived at the farmhouse, but when she heard Harry cry out in his sleep she knew that someone needed the draught far more than she did. So if the only thing she could give Harry was one restful night's sleep before he went off to meet his destiny, then that is what she would do.

And that is what she did.

After Hermione watched the gentle rise and fall of Harry's chest for a time, she edged closer to him on the bed and ever so gently placed her head on his shoulder. She knew that she wouldn't disturb his sleep; still she was very careful not to mix around too much. Once she found a comfortable position for herself, she turned her eyes up to his face and stared longingly at it as she waited for sleep to descend upon her. After yawning once, and feeling the gentle downward tug of her eyelids, Hermione whispered a soft goodnight and closed her eyes. Before all thought left her though she finally said the words she had only ever spoken in her dreams.

"I'm in love with you, Harry."

And for a few hours after that, Hermione Granger knew a bit of peace.

"...how long have you been in love with Harry Potter?"

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and found herself trapped in the gaze of the gray eyed wizard before her. To look at her one would think that Draco's words had no effect, but Hermione's stomach felt like a typhoon had swept through it and wrecked her from the inside.

Draco knew! Or if he didn't quite know the all of it yet, he wasn't that far off from piecing it together.

She ducked her head down and closed her eyes again as she frantically thought of something to say, something to distract him. But she could still feel Draco's icy, penetrating stare. It seemed to look right through to her very soul, and any lie or flippant remark she tried to think of to toss back at him seemed useless and ridiculous. The only answer that would work now would be the truth, Draco wouldn't settle for anything less and wouldn't stop hounding her until he got it.

But the very thought of telling someone...anyone the secret she had held on to for so many years was too inconceivable a notion. Especially Draco! Telling Draco Malfoy a secret like this would be akin to putting a pair of scissors in the hands of a three year old child and saying, "Here, go play in traffic". It had the potential to be a disaster of epic proportions. Titanic. Hindenburg. Showgirls. This could only end badly!

Oh but to be able to tell someone...Finally! To let go of the burden. The desire to unload her trove of secrets was almost too strong to resist. And Hermione found herself wondering why she should resist it. She trusted Draco, didn't she? If she swore him to secrecy he would hold to it, wouldn't he? And it wasn't like Draco didn't know how to keep quiet when it was important. The War taught her that. So maybe Draco could be her confidant. Maybe Draco could be the one she finally revealed everything to. Maybe it was time to tell someone. She was so tired of always hiding behind lies. And yet...

And yet...

And yet...even now when she had made the decision to finally come clean, something inside her still fought to protect what her heart had guarded so jealously for all these years. She had become too adept to hiding behind false smiles. She was a master at subterfuge. So instead of answering the question the way she should have, she instead looked Draco directly in his eyes and asked a question of her own.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Um..." said Draco, searching for something to say. "Not really," he answered uneasily, sounding as if he had been caught off-guard by the question. "I was just taking a stab in the dark there, I guess."

An uncomfortable chuckle escaped from him.

Hermione stared at Draco, mouth open, as disbelief, and more importantly rage slowly filtered through her system. She'd been had!

"WELL," she snitted waspishly as she jumped up from the footstool, "IT'S GOOD TO KNOW THAT I CAN BLAME MY NERVOUS BREAKDOWN ON YOUR FUCKING STAB IN THE DARK! AND WHEN THEY FIND YOUR COLD, DECOMPOSING BODY THE COURTS WON'T HAVE A HARD TIME FINDING A MOTIVE. BECAUSE MAKE NO MISTAKE...I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!" she roared, eyes blazing. Her hands were balled into trembling fists at her sides and she looked just a hair's breadth away from attacking him.

"Settle down Pet, settle down. Don't you think you are taking this a bit too seriously?" Draco asked with his usual Malfoy smirk, though he seemed a tad out of sorts.

"PET?!" she fumed. "PET?! ARGH! I don't even know why I allowed you to ever call me that! It's...it's...demeaning!"

"Well, that one time I called you 'Cookie', you stomped on my foot. After that I thought we both just decided that 'Pet' was the lesser of two evils."

"Well I don't like it! I FORBID YOU TO CALL ME THAT FROM NOW ON!" she said as she stomped her foot.

"Alright then," Draco lightly conceded, "my little Pumpkin Pastie."

Hermione obstinately stomped her foot again.

"YOU UNIMAGINEABLE BASTARD!"

"Unoriginal, and somewhat lacking in teeth. Come now Pet, surely you can do better than that," he teased, though not with as much vigor as was his norm.

"ARG! YOU ARE THE MOST GALLING, INSUFFERABLE, SUPERCILIOUS SON OF A BITCH THAT I HAVE EVER HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF BREATHING THE SAME AIR WITH!"

"Merlin!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I think that one might have actually hurt my feelings."

Hermione made a snarling sound and turned away from him in disgust. She began angrily pacing the area just in front of the scroll top desk, muttering curses as Draco watched helplessly.

"Look, Pe-"

Draco stopped mid-word as Hermione's head snapped around to him and her eyes turned into slits.

"Hermione, what the hell has gotten into you? I was just joking. I didn't think you would take it that seriously," he tried to explain as he put his hand up before him to hold her off. "I'm sorry that I offended you. If you want to just drop the whole thing I-"

"SINCE I WAS SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD!" Hermione cried out, effectively cutting off the rest of Draco's explanation. Her eyes were wet with tears and she began taking quick, short breaths.

A very bewildered Draco looked at the teary eyed woman before him and didn't know quite what to make of her.

"W-what?" he asked haltingly.

Hermione leaned back against the desk and closed her eyes tightly, mortified at her outburst. When she opened her eyes again Draco's befuddled face spurred her on as she said, "You asked me how long; since I was 17 years old. At least..." she paused, her voice sounding as though she were lost, "at least that's how old I was by time I was forced to realize it."

Draco rose from his seat, completely astounded by her revelation.

"You can't be serious," he said, a rigid smile frozen on his face.

Any moment he was sure she would yell out a well timed, 'gotcha'. But the look on Hermione's face let Draco know that such a wait would be in vain.

"But...but that's impossible. You couldn't have been in love with Potter then. I mean...Weasleby and...and," he paused, clearly at a loss for words. "You just couldn't have been!"

"But I was. I still am!"

Draco's hand went to his head and plucked at his hair as he tried to comprehend what he was being told.

"I was actually joking with you about Potter," he said, mostly to himself. "I never dreamed..."

He looked back towards her.

"I figured you would just make one of your snappy little comments, I would say something equally brilliant as always, and then we'd revel in how terribly clever we both are. Like usual. I never expected you to actually answer the question. Not really. At least not that way. At least...at least I don't think I did."

He dropped back down on the settee, exhausted from thinking too hard.

"Or maybe I've always known," he mumbled so lowly that Hermione barely caught it. "And what do you mean you were forced to realize it?" he asked urgently as he looked back up at her. "Did someone do something to you? Did they hurt you? Did Potter..."

"NO!" she hysterically shouted as she quickly crossed the carpet back to Draco. "HARRY DID NOTHING! HE DID NOTHING!"

"I SHOULD SAY SO!" he bellowed as his brows knitted together. "THAT'S JUST THE PROBLEM! THAT FUCKING SELFISH GIT!" Draco barked as he began rubbing his hands together so roughly it looked like he would rub them raw.

He looked so angry that Hermione doubted he could even see straight.

"Always walking around, beating his chest, ready to maim or bludgeon any bloke who so much as looked at you when he knew..."

At that very moment Draco's eyes glimpsed up at Hermione's terrified face. The wild eyed look of alarm that he saw there immediately dampened his resentful fury of only a second or two beforehand. Draco sighed as he dropped his forehead in his palms.

"Potter doesn't know, does he?"

She scampered to sit before Draco on her knees. She shook her head furiously.

"And he can never know, Draco," she told him. "Not now, not ever. Do you hear me Draco? You can't tell Harry! YOU JUST CAN'T!"

Draco lifted his head up to meet her eye.

"But Hermione I..."

Draco went silent; he didn't know what to say. To her horror Hermione was beginning to think that maybe telling Draco all of this hadn't been such a smart move after all. He almost seemed reluctant to agree to her.

"This shouldn't be that hard, Draco!" she insisted.

"But he's my partner, Hermione..."

She was livid now! Would Draco actually take Harry's side in this too?! Hermione didn't know what she would possibly do if that were the case.

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" she shrieked. "YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE HARRY! I mean...you still hate Harry, don't you?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried again and said unconvincingly, "Of course I do! Potter is a rotter and all that."

But Hermione pressed on. She had to get him to promise her that he would keep his mouth shut. She needed that promise!

"Good," she said slowly as she held his eye. "Then you should have no problem keeping this little secret, right?"

"I...I won't tell."

"Do I have your word?"

Draco paused only for a moment before answering.

"Y-yes. Of c-course you do."

Hermione exhaled the breath she had been holding. She almost envisioned Draco telling her that he couldn't promise what she asked of him. But it was silly of her to think that and she silently reproached herself. Draco wouldn't do anything to hurt her. She truly believed that. So she knew where this secret was concerned, Draco would act in her best interest. She could put money on that.

"Thank you," she weakly said. She put a hand to her chest as if to calm her beating heart and closed her eyes in relief. "Thank you."

With Draco's pledge taken care of, Hermione felt her whole body relax as she melted onto the floor and leaned the top half of her body on the settee. She barely noticed it when Draco got up to close the library doors. Her mind was truthfully elsewhere.

"I think it was Fourth Year when everything changed," she said in a low, far away voice. "I've had a lot of time to think about it, and as far as I can tell it was definitely Fourth Year."

She turned her head towards the doors where Draco still stood.

"Why do things have to change?" she asked bleakly.

"If things stayed the same life would be incredibly dull."

She smiled a brittle smile at his statement as she turned around fully and sat with her legs folded in front of her.

"I think I would have rather liked dull."

Draco walked from the door and sat on the footstool next to Hermione. He picked up the forgotten basket of scones on the floor and offered her one. She gave him a grateful smile to thank him for his kindness as she picked one up and took a few mechanical bites of it. As she finished it off Draco put the basket down, and putting both hands on his knees, focused his full attention on her.

"You know, I was crazy about Ron back then."

It wasn't said in the form of a question.

"All of Hogwarts knew that," he said dryly.

She softly chuckled at Draco's nasty sneer.

"I thought I fancied Ron something terrible." She waited a sec for a well aimed barb, but getting none asked, "What, no comment from the peanut gallery?"

Draco rolled his eyes haughtily.

"Well, there's no accounting for bad taste, is there?"

Hermione ignored him. Instead her eyes focused on the pattern of the carpet underneath her. She plucked aimlessly at the Aubusson.

"I realize now that what I liked best about Ron was all the possibilities I saw in him, all the potential. I thought I could change him, make him better. Help him."

"Like one of your pet projects?"

She looked quickly up at Draco, but seeing no malice in his eyes she nodded her head.

"Yes," she said mournfully as she ducked her head down again. "Like one of my projects. But I know that I did feel something for Ron once. I just know I did!"

Her brows furrowed as though she were deep in thought.

"And I am almost certain that before Fourth Year I never saw Harry as anything other than a friend. Sometimes...sometimes I wonder if I made myself not see. Maybe I told myself that he was a moving target and that...and that he wasn't worth the bother."

She almost hid her face at the wretchedness of her admission. But a quick glance at Draco let her know that he didn't think poorly of her for saying it. Draco was the last person to ever sit in judgment of another.

"The Triwizard Tournament started it all," she continued. "Harry and Ron had that terrible row. Well, I simply refused to choose sides. I split my time between the two of them. I even secretly thought that it worked out pretty well for me since I would get to spend more time alone with Ron. Get closer to him maybe."

"But you ended up getting closer to Potter."

"I guess without the distraction of Ron always there I got to know Harry better," she said as she raised her eyes towards his. "Better yet, I truly liked what I got to know. And Harry actually listened to me, like what I had to say was important. Ron didn't," she said, lowering her head.

Even though it was the truth, she felt as though she were somehow being disloyal to Ron. After all this time the guilt still seemed so fresh.

"I found myself wanting to be with Harry at times when I was alone with Ron."

Hermione lifted a hand to her temple and began to rub at the dull throb she felt there.

"I was never so happy then when the two of them finally resolved their issues. Besides them needing each other, I was tired of being confused as hell."

"And you didn't find that odd?"

"I told myself that it was normal that I should want to spend so much time with Harry. I convinced myself that it was completely understandable why I was always so worried about him, why I felt the need to take care of him. He was the bloody Boy Who Lived; it was my duty to ensure that he did just that. But I should have realized things were different. As I was getting ready for the Yule Ball I wondered if Ron and Harry would say something about how I looked. I actually felt a twinge of jealousy after the Second Task. I blamed it on being the odd man out; that Harry would probably be the person that Ron missed most if their roles were reversed. And while Harry was being menaced by that...that...madman dressed as Moody I...I almost attacked Madame Pomfrey! When we arrived at the Infirmary and Harry wasn't there I nearly lost it. Ron had to hold me back; I didn't give a damned if Molly and Bill were there."

Hermione inched closer to Draco as she asked feverishly, "How could I not recognize the signs, Draco? I was supposed to be the smart one. How could I have been so blind?"

Draco seemed to ponder her question for a moment. His face took on a wistful expression.

"Most times you don't realize you're in love 'til you're up to your bollocks in it," he said then smiled wanly at her. "At least that has been my experience."

Hermione cast her eyes downward. "I suppose you're right."

An awkward silence filled the room for a moment and Hermione kept her eyes focused on the floor. Searching for anything to quell the looming void she said, "I kissed Harry."

That did it.

Draco's eyes widened in astonishment. "I thought you said he didn't know how you felt?"

"It was only on the cheek, at King's Cross, at the end of term that year. At the time he probably just thought that I was mental."

She frowned miserably.

"He probably doesn't even remember it. I was just filled with so much...feeling...for him in that moment that I couldn't stop from making a fool of myself."

She closed her eyes and tried to force the gloom away. She could almost see that moment right before her; an innocent peck from a young girl to a bespeckled boy. She, too unworldly and immature to comprehend what her body was telling her and him, scarred in countless ways, unable to understand much of anything at all.

"Dad saw the kiss," she confided as she looked back at him. "What a disaster that was! As soon as we got home he and I had 'the talk'." She dramatically exaggerated the last two words. "Do you know how painfully clinical 'the talk' is when your parent has a medical degree? There was a film strip and a book with detailed, colorized pictures. Oh, and let's not forget the flowchart. Can you imagine how embarrassing that was?"

Draco leaned in towards her. "Try being 14, locked in a darkened room with a French Squib whore named Fifi, and told 'Happy Birthday'."

Hermione was appalled. Her jaw dropped before squeaking out, "Fifi?"

Draco nodded his head casually in answer.

"Well...well what happened?" she asked curiously. Hermione wasn't too revolted to voice the pertinent questions.

The nonchalant demeanor of Draco's dropped for a second as his pale cheeks colored.

"Couldn't...um...quite get the dragon to fly, if you catch my meaning," he muttered quickly.

Hermione turned up her nose in distaste.

"Your father..."

"My mum," Draco corrected her.

"I sometimes think a pet rat is a better mother. They have the decency to at least eat their young."

"Stop," he chided. "Mother did her best."

To that she merely sniffed.

"Well dad almost put me off sex for years."

Hermione then tilted her head slightly as she chewed on her lip.

"Now that I think of it; that might have been the plan. Good one dad," she said as her eyes rolled upward and she smiled genuinely. She chuckled lightly. "Luckily mum was there to take me aside later and tell me that sex was natural and normal and nothing to be ashamed of. But it's not like I was even thinking about that in regards to Harry or Ron." Then as an afterthought she added, "Yet."

Realizing her slip of the tongue, Hermione dropped her head to the floor hoping to fall straight through it.

"So...you fancied both of them at one time then?" Draco asked as he kindly ignored her slip of the tongue.

"Yes," she answered, grateful for the effortless switch of topic.

She sat back up.

"All through Fifth Year I waited patiently for Ron to ask me out to Hogsmeade or to take my hand during a patrol, but he never did. And with Harry, goodness, my behavior was ridiculous! I couldn't seem to stop touching him, hugging him. I even went so far as to ask him to sit and knit house-elf hats with me. Could I have been more transparent?!" she asked disgustedly.

He snickered amusedly. "You tramp!"

"PISS OFF!"

"Sorry," he said as he tried to conceal his smile. "So Potter and Weasley noticed none of this?"

Hermione snorted disdainfully.

"Ron was too worried about Viktor Krum, and the only girl Harry seemed to notice was Cho."

"Chang?" questioned Draco as his lips twisted into a salacious grin. "Pucey was an idiot for standing her up like that. What a lovely piece of arse she was. I remember wanting to test run that one back in school and..."

"DRACO!" Hermione gritted out through her teeth. "NOT. HELPING."

An actual look of contriteness formed on his face this time. She huffed peevishly, stood up from the floor, and wrapped her arms around her as though she were cold. She began to nervously pace again.

"I waited and waited for Ron to make his intentions known. I just knew that once that happened all would be right. But he took so fucking long!" she cried angrily. "You know, I almost died when I was 16 years old and I had never even been kissed!"

"Tragic."

She rounded on him, throwing her arms wide.

"It was to me! I was so angry when I went home that summer. And confused. I-I...I was nastier than a blast-ended skrewt, I was! And of course my parents were well aware of the situation. One night I heard dad ask mum what was wrong with me. Mum answered, 'boys'. So dad asked her which one, the redhead or the one with the scar. Mum said, 'both'."

Draco shook his head in amazement.

"Well would you look at that, mother's intuition."

"Oh, but I was offended by the very idea of it. It made me sound like I was some boy crazy twit! Which was ridiculous, I knew what I wanted! I wanted Ron Weasley! I had wanted Ron Weasley since I was 12! It was ridiculous to think that I was interested in Harry! Like I was some starry eyed fangirl swooning after the hero of the story. How cliché! That's why I came back for Sixth Year determined to make Ron put up or shut up. I was a modern girl, why couldn't I ask him out? So I did. I asked him to Slughorn's Christmas party."

"I don't recall King Weasel being there."

"That's because he wasn't," she told him, resentment rising in her voice. She crossed her arms in front of her. "That's because the stupid, stupid git decided to let Lavender Brown examine his tonsils with her tongue not too long after I invited him."

"Twat," Draco sneered.

Hermione didn't bother to correct him.

"I remember watching the two of them going at it like dogs and thinking to myself, 'well this can't be right'. It's not supposed to be Lavender and Ron...it's supposed to be me and Ron. I was so hurt. I felt like the biggest fool in the world! And all I could think was that all of Hogwarts was going to laugh at me, and point, and call me names. Look at Hermione, isn't she just pathetic? Who would want her, they would say. I had to run! I had to hide! But Harry found me."

Hermione's eyes misted as her voice lowered.

"He wanted to make sure I was ok. He wanted to let me know that he cared. He was such a...a...boy about it," she said smiling tearfully. "Not knowing what to say, but the intent had been there. It was the sweetest thing. But then Ron came stumbling into the room with...her."

Her smile twisted bitterly.

"I was supposed to be the scorned woman so I did what I thought was expected of me. I attacked Ron with an Oppugno and a flock of birds."

Draco sat up smiling winsomely.

"Brill!"

None of Draco's gaiety touched her, though. Hermione sunk down on the settee as though she was weary and her legs couldn't hold her weight any longer. Her face remained stoically still, yet tears coursed down from her eyes.

"I didn't know it then," she said, voice barely a whisper. "I didn't realize it then because I was so blastedly focused on Ron, but...I think that was it. When Harry came in that classroom, that was the moment...that was the moment."

"That you fell in love," Draco said as if completing the rest of the thought for her.

"I didn't know," she told him pleadingly, begging him to believe her. "I swear I didn't know!"

As always, Draco was weakened by the sight of a crying woman. He stood up to search his pocket for a handkerchief with which his friend could dry her face, wipe her nose. Finding none, he took out his wand and conjured up one for her.

"Thank you," she said as she took the white scrap of silk out of his hands. She blew at her red nose after dabbing at her eyes. She then handed the soiled hankie back to him. With an upturned nose and a frowning face, he held it between two fingers before promptly setting it on fire and returning his wand to his holster.

"Hermione," he said as he got down on one knee and kneeled before her, "you were one of the most straight forward witches that I knew. You never failed to give your opinion on any and everything. It was one of your more endearing and annoying traits. I just find it hard to believe that you sat on how you felt for Potter all that time. It makes no sense."

"That's exactly it, though! I can talk a blue streak about what I think on any given subject. Like right now, I think your hair is entirely too short," she said as her red eyes drifted up to his scalp. "Do you plan to keep mowing it down until you hit skin?"

Draco scowled at her which she ignored.

"But feelings? Oh, I preferred deciphering thaumaturgical runes to actually analyzing what was going on in my own head. At least those dead, primitive symbols made sense! It simply was illogical to suddenly love Harry! I couldn't accept it. It had been Ron for so long that I wouldn't acknowledge anything else. Now Ginny loving Harry; that made sense. She lived and breathed Harry Potter since she was a child. She wanted to be with him and I was supposed to be her friend and help her."

Draco's face frowned in distaste.

"Why would you do that?"

"Trust me; I didn't want to at first but..."

Hermione paused for a moment, lost in thought, searching for the right words.

"Ginny can be very...persuasive when she wants something," Hermione said tactfully. "She can twist you around so that you almost believe the words coming from her mouth." A single, fat tear slipped down her face as she said, "Especially if you already believed them."

"A parting gift from the Dark Lord?"

As if suddenly remembering that Draco was in the room with her still, she shook her head freeing herself from her pitiful thoughts.

"Sometimes I think that was there even before Voldemort got his hands on her," she said. "But that's beside the point. Ginny wanted me to help her get Harry. I was reluctant at first but then lo and behold, out of nowhere, Harry suddenly starts to fancy Ginny back. I mean, it was so bloody obvious! He would stare longingly at her face, at her lips, at her hair."

Hermione's eyebrows came together.

"Stupid shiny hair!" she added sorely.

Using his better judgment, Draco smothered his snicker.

"You should have seen the victory snog after the big match that year. Right in the middle of the Common room, in front every bloody Gryffindor, Harry kissed her! It was so ridiculously overwrought that all that was needed was Celine Dion screeching in the background to complete the scene."

"Sounds like you were jealous."

Rather than deny it she just mutely nodded her head.

"I didn't know it at the time, though. I actually smiled. Harry just looked so...so...happy. He practically walked on air when he and Ginny got together. All I ever wanted for him was to be happy. And it's not like I had too much time for self-reflection, you know!" she countered strongly. "At one point it seemed like our whole little world imploded. You," Hermione said as she swatted him on the shoulder, "you turned our school into Death Eater central! Bill got hurt, Dumbledore died; we were constantly on the move that summer. The only thing that seemed constant was Ron. He was so sweet. He wanted me. And I...I was so relieved."

"Relieved?" Draco asked as he took a seat next to her.

"I don't know how else to describe it," Hermione answered sadly.

Not wanting to press her further in that direction, Draco subtlety changed the topic again.

"Ok, so you and Weasel the Red finally get together. Everything should be perfect...except it's not."

"No."

"What happened?"

"YOU, DRACO!" she cried vehemently, voice rising. "YOU...HAPPENED! You brought that demon possessed Cup into our lives and I, like some demented Alice out of a Carrolian nightmare, decided to drink from the stupid thing! Everything went tits up after that!"

"Demon possessed Cu-" Draco began to ask warily, uncertain of what she was talking about before the answer suddenly hit him.

He gasped loudly as he pulled back from her. His eyes never left hers.

"THE CUP!" he said, shock plastered on his face.

Hermione nodded bitterly.

"The goddamned Cup!"

Draco rose slowly as a new idea floated in his head.

"THAT POTION!" he exclaimed, completely keyed up. "The one that Pomfrey couldn't pinpoint...DEAR MERLIN! Hermione, you got whammied by a love potion!"

She had been nodding her head along with him until she heard the last part.

"I...wait, what?!!" she asked bewilderedly.

Draco, however, was on a roll. He began frenetically pacing back and forth in front of her, making odd statements that completely baffled Hermione. She tried to catch his attention and correct him soundly, but it was to no avail.

"When you woke up Potter...SON OF A BITCH! Potter was the only one in that room with you. I remember overhearing Weasleby telling his brother about it. He left the room, probably to go stuff his gut, and he came back to find you awake with Potter hovering over you. Potter would have been the first person you saw! It all makes sense now!"

"Good, then maybe you could fill me in," she said as she arched an eyebrow.

Draco sat back down, reached for her hands, looked her in her eyes and said, "Hermione, you have been under the thrall of a love potion all this time!"

"I'VE BEEN WHAT?!"

Hermione shook her head as she pulled herself out of Draco's grip and stood up.

"Draco, have you even been listening to me? I was already in love with Harry, a potion didn't do that! The Veritaserum, the Wit Sharpening...while I was knocked out they opened my eyes to the truth that had been there all along, though I fought it tooth and nail. The Discordium then tried to use that against me."

Draco's brow furrowed as he processed what she said.

"Discordium? What the hell is Discordium?"

"The mystery potion," she answered, sighing dismally as she walked over to the desk. Her voice sounded detached and she kept her back to him.

"Discordium; also referred to as the Elixir of Eris. It roots around inside you, like a virus, looking for something to go to work on, looking for what it needs to make your world crumble round you, and looking for just the right way to cause discord in you and all around you. It's like an anti-Felix Felicis only ten times worse. It's an execrapotio."

"A potion with a hex cast on it?"

Hermione turned and smiled wanly at Draco. Potions had been his best subject once.

"Fifteen points for Slytherin," she said.

Draco wasn't impressed by her joke.

"But how would you have gotten something like that in you? Those have been banned for thousands of years. Severus made mention of them once or twice, but that's all. He never told me..."

Draco shook his head in frustration.

"No Potion Master alive today would even know how to brew one of those," he argued fervently.

"Lucky for me that old Helga's been dead for about that long, huh?"

"But how did you discover that it was Discordium? Pomfrey was at her wits end trying to figure it out."

At his question a look of guilt settled on her face causing her to look at her feet in shame.

"That's...that's not exactly true."

"What do you mean by, 'that's not exactly true'?"

Draco stood up. He sounded terribly displeased at this new piece of information. Hermione kicked at the imaginary dust on the floor in order to avoid his reproving gaze.

"What I mean is, though initially Madame Pomfrey was stumped as to what the potion was, after I woke up and was able to tell her some of my symptoms she was able to identify the Discordium."

Hermione chanced a look up at Draco. He did not look like a happy camper. She tried to make her voice sound light as she continued.

"As you said, excrapotios are rarely seen anymore and the fact that Hufflepuff made one is a fact that you would have to look through the dustiest of books in the Restricted Section to find. Not too many people like to imagine the staid and matronly founder of Hufflepuff House as the closeted sadist she so obviously was!" she peevishly huffed. "Madame Pomfrey never said anything after she diagnosed me because I swore her to her Healer's oath. Not even Minerva was privy to the information. No one has ever known besides me and Madame Pomfrey what the potion was," she said slowly, hoping for her words to sink in. "That is until now."

Their eyes met across the small distance between them and Draco got the subtle message. It was one more secret that he was being entrusted with.

"So what exactly is Discordium? What does it do?" he asked resignedly.

Hermione's face twisted in disgust.

"It's vile...and invasive...and...merciless. It searches inside you for what would cause the most strife in your life. It breeds discontent. And worse of all, you are the person who is solely responsible for your misery. It was always there, buried deep; it just makes you act on it. Once you do that...chaos ensues."

"And what does the Discordium make you want to act on?"

She cast her eyes down, ashamed to look at him.

"My feelings for Harry."

"I'm confused," Draco said as he got up and walked towards her. "How would that cause strife?"

"How would that cause strife?" she asked incredulously. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

Her voice became frantic as it went up a few decibels. She began to feverishly pace again, her hands gesturing about wildly. Draco only stepped back to take it all in.

"WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR! I WAS WITH RON! Harry was practically cracking up from the weight of the world on his shoulders! Could you just imagine if in the midst of all that I suddenly turned to Ron and told him that although I loved him very much I was really in love with Harry? That once again he had come in second place to Harry? Do you have any idea how that would have made him feel?"

Hermione shivered at the very thought.

"Fourth Year would have been a bloody stroll through Hyde Park in comparison! And what about Harry? He'd be trapped in the middle; one best friend hating him for something that he had no control of...AGAIN, and the other one having feelings for him that he did not return."

She paused as she looked back at Draco.

"Harry didn't need that kind of drama, especially with the threat of Voldemort ever present. Our friendship would have been tested. And though I would like to think it would have passed with flying colors, I honestly don't know if that's true. More importantly, I was not going to take that risk! There were bigger things that were more important at the time. Harry needed us, his friends. Even Professor Dumbledore told him that. I would not ruin that for him."

"Alright, alright I hear you. If that potion is as powerful as you say then I can understand your reasoning for keeping quiet...then. But what about after the War? The Dark Lord was gone, the War was over."

She looked away.

"I thought it best to leave things as they were."

"You thought it best?" Draco asked dubiously. He walked up to her and turned her so she could face him.

"Look," she said defensively as she pulled out of his hold, "I still had this...poison in me. The potion would still try to wreak havoc any which way it saw fit," she argued. "It made sense to just grin and bear it. And Harry was in love with Ginny anyway. He married her, so what was the point?"

Draco could hear clearly the hurt in her tone.

"That hag?!"

"That hag is gorgeous and sexy and funny-"

"AND A HAG!" he finished for her.

"Yes, well most men seemed to lose the gift of speech at the sight of that hag, as you call her. Harry most of all." If she had been in a better mood she would have laughed at the picture they were making; she defending Ginny Weasley to an irate Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione remembered that it was Ginny Potter now and winced at the reminder.

"What was wrong with you? You're not that hard to look at," Draco said helpfully as he leaned back against the desk. She followed suit.

"You flatterer, you."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"All I'm saying is that it's not that inconceivable of an idea that Potter might have considered a little dally with you if you had just told him how you felt."

"No Draco," she answered smiling weakly. "You're thinking of that old Hollywood fairytale where the Plain Jane librarian, or girl next door, or...or even the best friend takes off her glasses, shakes out her hair and suddenly the leading man is all over her like a cheap robe. My life, however, is not a movie. I knew that would never be me. To Harry I would always be just Hermione, and most times I was able to convince myself that that was enough. As long as I had his friendship I could bear the rest."

However her eyes made Draco doubt her sincerity.

"Do you ever regret drinking from the Cup?" he asked.

"It helped Harry. I would do it again and again if I had to," she said, staring unseeingly before her. "But yes, I have a treasure chest of regrets." She sighed. "I used to regret that I even woke up at all."

"HERMIONE!" Draco exclaimed, taken aback by her heartbreaking honesty.

"When I was in that deep sleep all I did was dream over and over again. Those dreams seemed so true; far more real than the life I went back to each morning. And even when I woke up they didn't stop. Night after night I was visited by the same visions. After the War it got to the point where I started taking Dreamless Sleep to relieve myself of them. After almost two years on the stuff they finally stopped. I don't dream so much anymore now."

"What were these dreams about?" he cautiously asked.

She turned her face to him and wiped at the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Harry. Loving him, being loved by him; there were times I even saw the faces of our children. But then I'd wake-up and know that the dreams would never come true."

Her glassy eyes closed, trying to hold the flood of tears back.

"Those dreams could never come true," she mournfully added.

"Your sacrifice..."

Hermione looked up into Draco's face. It was filled with wonderment and its presence there confused her.

"What?"

"In order for the Cup to be destroyed you had to sacrifice something. I always wondered what it was; just what you would have been willing to part with. But I get it now. You traded in your own happiness, didn't you Hermione?"

Hermione stepped back from Draco nearly stumbling. Her face turned a molten red. She opened her mouth to reply, but at first couldn't find the words. It was as if the question violated her in some way.

"Don't be daft, Draco!" she snapped. "If that isn't the stupidest thing! My happiness?! Honestly! Haven't you been paying attention to me at all? My sacrifice was my denial. It was the one thing I clung the hardest to."

"So you are telling me that Dumbledore nearly traded his hand in for a bloody stump to destroy a Horcrux and all you had to do was let go of your denial? Come now Pet, you can't really be that thick."

Hermione did not miss the sarcasm in his voice and she was not pleased.

"I'll have you know that my denial kept everything together! Harry, Ron, and I were doing just fine before the stupid Cup entered the picture! My world was content! I was satisfied with my life! I was-"

"Happy?" he offered cynically.

Hermione felt like hitting him, but chose to stomp off to the settee instead. She threw herself down on it and crossed her arms before her.

"You just don't get it!" she huffed indignantly.

"I do. But somehow I think you don't."

Hermione turned her head and refused to look at him.

"Merlin! Is there no cure for this thing, the Discordium? An antidote? A counter?"

He came and sat next to her.

"No. The only way to be released from an excrapotio is for it to pass through your system. The only way for it to pass through your system is to give in to it. But I can't do that. I won't," she forcefully told him. "Not then, not now."

"Hermione, this thing sounds as strong as an Imperius," he said warily.

"And?"

"Well, if you fight the effects of an Imperius long enough you...well, you eventually go mad."

"DO I LOOK MAD TO YOU, DRACO?!" she shrieked as she jumped to her feet and stood over him menacingly. Her eyes blazed with fury.

Draco paused for only a moment before saying, "No?"

"IS THAT IT?" she seethed. "DO YOU THINK I'M CRAZY? D-DO...D-DO YOU THINK I'M INSANE? WOULD YOU LIKE TO LOCK ME UP TOO?!"

Hermione was so agitated that she barely felt her fingernails dig into the skin on her palms as she clenched her hands tightly together.

"Who tried to lock you up?" Draco asked as he slowly stood up, eyes never leaving her face.

At his question her wrathful expression paled to one of fear. Her eyes seemed to enlarge and her mouth formed a round circle. Before he could ask anything else though, she shook her head and smiled ruefully. She scampered back to him, took his hand and sat down, bringing him with her.

"Sorry," she chuckled falsely. "I tend to get a little touchy when my sanity is called into question."

"And you act like a right bitch."

"Yes, and I act like a right bitch."

That time she smiled for real. It then turned into a grimace.

"ARG! It's just really frustrating now, you know. It's not fair of me to take this out on you, but I just don't know what else to do. It used to be easier to fight this thing, but not so much anymore. Something is wrong. Something has changed. Everything has gone all pear-shaped all of a sudden! I just don't know what it could be, though!"

"How do you mean?"

"It's part of the reason why I'm a little antsy to be around Harry right now," she confessed. "You see, Discordium has two nasty little side effects. For one; sometimes in my head I hear these voices. Actually a single voice. It sounds like me, but it's not. It's oilier; slicker. It tries to tell me what I want to hear. What it thinks I want to hear."

"It tries to spur you on, you mean."

"Yes. And it also warps my perception of things. It used to be that Harry would say something to me, completely innocent sounding like...oh, I don't know, 'are you going to eat that' or 'Remus look a bit shaggier than usual today', and it would sound like..."

"Fancy a shag?"

"Erm...no," she said, blushing demurely. "Not quite. I mean, the words would still be the same, but sometimes the way Harry would talk to me, or look at me, or smile at me I could almost believe that..."

She shook her head.

"But then I would realize that it was just the potion. Luckily I always caught myself in time before I did something completely stupid and embarrassed myself."

"To be honest I never noticed it. You never appeared to be under any emotional turmoil. Sure there were the times that you seemed a bit batty, but I always saw that as part of your charm. Of course I mean once I stopped fantasizing of all the many grizzly ends you could meet, that is."

"Why Draco Malfoy, I think that's the sweetest thing you ever said to me," she teased.

He chuckled lightly.

"I've never been like you," she told him. "You never shied away from letting anyone and everyone know just how you felt at any given moment. Loudly. Not me. As a little girl I got very good at hiding my emotions. Kids can be cruel to those who are different. I learned how to show them that I didn't care, even if it were just an act. I guess those coping skills just came in handy."

Draco patted her hand reassuringly. She smiled at his sweetness and continued on.

"Something is definitely off now, though. When I was away this urge in me was always there, but it was like a dull throb. I still felt it, but it could be easily ignored. But all of a sudden I'm back and...dear lord, the potion...it's like it's working at treble the old pace. I...I'm quite frankly terrified of being alone with Harry now. I...I...goodness, just the other day I could barely keep my eyes off of Harry's crotch!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

"And I think I just went deaf."

"To be fair, how could I not notice it..."

Draco put both of his hands to his ears and shut his eyes tightly.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"The way he was just walking around, unabashedly waving it around in my face...JUST WHO IN THE HELL DOES HE THINK HE IS?!"

"You are not talking about Potter's dick...you are not talking about Potter's dick...you are not talking about...OH BALLS!"

He opened his eyes and fumed at her.

"NOW YOU'VE GOT ME TALKING ABOUT POTTER'S DICK!"

"Oh, but I haven't told you the worse of it! I...I...threwmyselfatHarry!" she mumbled out quickly. Hermione then clasped her hands over her mouth as though she had incriminated herself.

Draco, however, hadn't understood a word she had said.

"You re-grew yourself a fat cherry?" he asked her bemusedly.

Her hands plopped in her lap and Hermione looked at him as though he were the dumbest git alive.

"In what parallel universe does that sentence even make sense?!" she exasperatedly asked him.

"Well, there are exercises one can do. And I hear that there's this potion a witch can drink, you see..."

"YOU BIG HONKING PRAT!" she yelled. "GET YOUR HAND OUT OF YOUR TROUSERS FOR ONCE AND BE OF SOME USE! I said that I threw myself at Harry. We were in the kitchen, just fooling around..."

Draco's jaw dropped as he stood up swiftly.

"NO, YOU IDIOT! NOT THAT KIND OF FOOLING AROUND," she said caustically looking up at him. "We were playing and joking when suddenly I...I don't know how to explain it. It's like some switch got flipped inside me. All of a sudden I practically had my legs wrapped around him in a strangle hold. I heard this voice telling me over and over again that I should kiss him. Just kiss him Hermione. What's one little kiss?"

"Did you?"

"Draco, Harry is a married man. Of course I didn't," she scoffed primly.

Draco smirked at her perceptively which made Hermione want to punch his smug face. It was just like old times!

"Oh alright, Lizzie got in the way," she admitted. "DUMB DOG!"

Then realizing her slight to her beloved pet, she collapsed sideways onto the settee, buried her face from sight, and sobbed loudly into the cushion.

"I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON!"

"Um...I know were on this whole Hermione isn't mad as a box of doxies kick, but woman, you are on the verge of a mental collapse!"

"I KNOW!" her muffled voice wailed, face still pressed into the seat. She then quickly sat up and turned frantic eyes on him. "Draco, what in the world possessed me to come back to England?"

"You missed the fine cuisine and the excellent weather?"

The joke, however, was lost on Hermione. Her breathing became rapid and a barrage of words tumbled out of her mouth growing louder and more frenzied with every passing second.

"What made me think that I could actually do this, be near Harry again? Why did I think that being gone so long, and him being married would have changed things? I should have never come back here! Maybe...maybe I am mad for thinking I could do this. Or...or maybe that was my plan all along, to just finally give in. I told myself that I came back for Ron's big day, but deep down I knew what I really came back for. I know what I really want. I know what I...NO! I CAN'T DO THIS! I CAN'T DO THIS, DRACO! I'm almost certain that Harry knew something was amiss yesterday, but he's so sweet and kind that he's willing to pretend that his best friend didn't try to bloody well seduce him! He's just so happy to have his mate back, don't you see?!"

Hermione began to cry bitterly as her body shook with the force of her sobs.

"I'm already cracking under the pressure. I don't know how much longer I can keep this act up! It's not Harry's fault that all he sees me as is his sister, but it's breaking me! It's wearing me! I'm not strong enough anymore. I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH! I'M NOT! I'M NOT! I CAN'T STAY! I CAN'T! I CAN'T!"

Draco dropped back onto the settee and clamped his hands firmly on her shoulders. He looked unflinchingly into her eyes.

"PULL YOURSELF THE FUCK TOGETHER!" he commanded her.

Oddly enough these were just the words she needed to come back to herself. Her crazed ramblings ceased; her rapid drawing of breath began to slow.

"Now you listen to me, Granger; I don't care how addled this poison has your head, I just know that you are not running away again with your tail between your legs. Do you understand me?"

"But−"

"Do you want to be back here, Hermione?"

"I...of course I do! This is my home!"

It was the truth. She had never wanted to leave in the first place really. She had only done what she thought was right at the time, but she knew now that it really solved nothing. Through her travels she had tried to get as far away from England as she could, never even coming near Europe again once she went to the States. But Hermione always knew that no matter where she tried to call home it would only be a poor substitute. She belonged here. The only problem was that something inside her told her that wherever Harry was, that's where she belonged as well.

"Good then," Draco said, taking her from her thoughts. "You've got your reasons to stay in your own self-imposed Hell. I may not agree with them, but for your sake I will respect them. But I will not listen to this drivel about you not being strong. You are one of the strongest people I know! You've fought this thing for seven years, you can keep fighting it!" he told her. "The difference is that now you don't have to do it alone."

Hermione stared at him in wonder.

"Draco..."

"You were a good friend to me once, Hermione. Now it's my turn to return the favor. A Malfoy always repays a debt. You need me to run interference with Potter, I'll do it. You need me to help you keep your distance; I'll be your shadow."

"I can't ask that of you," she told him sincerely. She didn't want to bring anyone else into her mess. But oh, what Draco was offering...

"You've done this alone for so long, Hermione. Why don't you let someone help you? Let go of this stupid Gryffindor pride. I want to help. Please let me help," he pleaded with her. The look on his face was free of any duplicity, empty of guile. Draco was honestly offering his support to her.

"OH DRACO!" she cried as she pitched herself at him and engulfed him in a hug. The tears continued to slide down her face and soak his shirt as she pressed her face into it. But for once they were not bitter tears. They were tears of relief now. For the first time in years Hermione felt the heavy weight of her secret slacken as Draco took on some of its heft himself. She felt lighter. She felt more confident. She began to believe that just maybe she could handle being back home at last. She could stand to watch Harry live out the rest of his life with the woman he loved. After all, she had an ally now.

Draco's arms went protectively around her as he held her close. He smoothed her hair like one would do a child.

"Don't worry about a thing, Hermione. Draco will take care of it. We'll figure this thing out together. And I'll make sure Potter's little bitch leaves you alone as well," he assured her. These words did not have as much of a calming effect on her as the others, though.

She raised her tear stained face up to his.

"Ginny? Why would you think that you need to protect me from Ginny?"

Draco was startled by her question.

"Why would I...well, because she knows doesn't she? She knows what you feel for Potter. That's why you left, isn't it?"

"Oh God no!" Hermione shook her head frantically. "Ginny doesn't know any of this. Are you mad?! Ginny never found out. How would Ginny have found out that? You're the only person that knows Draco. The only person."

"B-but the fight...the fight that the two of you had. The night before her wedding the two of you had some kind of row. And then...and then the next day you took off."

The realization of what Draco meant set in and smoothed her harried face.

"Oh," she whispered softly. "Oh. Ginny doesn't know anything. That's...that's not what we fought about," she said.

"That's not what you−"

"No. So just put the whole thing out of your head," she said firmly, jaw set.

"But that night−"

"Nothing happened that night. Water under the bridge, as you said."

"But you were so upset−"

"I thought you said that you were going to help me?" she asked imploringly. "Ginevra Potter is not a concern. Just leave it alone, Draco."

"But..."

"Oh," came a low voice from the door interrupting Draco from saying anything else. "I figured the two of you would be done by now."

Both Hermione and Draco turned to see Luna standing in the now opened doorway. She had changed into a plain white scoop necked top and a long black skirt. However her normal dreamy eyed expression looked somewhat artificial. Once realizing how they must look to her, wrapped in each others arms, Hermione and Draco simultaneously split apart to opposite ends of the small settee. Hermione might know that it was a perfectly innocent embrace, but she wasn't too sure how she would feel if she found her own boyfriend holding another woman so closely.

She smiled as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks to dry them, and turned her full attention to Luna. She noticed the roll of parchment in Luna's hand.

"We are done," she said. From the corner of her eye she caught the argumentative expression on Draco's face. Wanting to make sure that he understood that the subject was now closed, she turned to him and said stonily, "We are."

Luna looked at Draco first, then brought her lazy gaze over to Hermione. Hermione nervously swallowed. She wondered if Luna was picking up on the weird vibes between Draco and herself. Worse, she wondered if Luna was going to make mention of it and what lie she would have to come up with to try and appease her. Even Hermione knew that she wasn't that good. Besides once being in Ravenclaw house, Luna Lovegood was one of the most eerily intuitive people she knew. Thankfully Luna decided not to mention the tense expressions on her and Draco's faces.

"So did you two have a nice chat?" she asked instead.

"Oh yes," he drolled languidly as he got up and headed towards Luna's direction. He crossed in front of Hermione as he said, "You could even say it was illuminating. Shite!"

Hermione pulled back the foot she had casually stuck out. Luna, however, was there to catch Draco as he stumbled into her arms.

"Careful with that Hermione," she said serenely. "I may need him later."

Luna then wrapped a possessive arm around his waist. Draco was too busy scowling down at Hermione to see the look on Luna's face, but Hermione, who gave him a feigned innocent smile in reply, saw it plainly. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the subtle signal that only another woman could read. Mines.

There was once a time when the very mention of Luna Lovegood's name would have made Hermione's once bushy hair stand on end. Though Hermione tried to write off her distaste of the younger girl as just a difference of personalities, it was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head what the real issue was. At Hogwarts they both fancied the same bloke. But that was then. Hermione eventually grew to respect Luna and was quite fond of the woman now. The fact that she had lost some of her odder tics and quirks also helped matters.

Hermione gave a tiny nod of her head to Luna to let her know that the message had been received. The two women then smiled at each other. Draco missed all of this of course.

"By the way, I hope you don't think I overstepped my bounds," Luna said holding up the scroll in her hands, "but I took the liberty of sending off a note to Harry with Lover's owl."

"You still have old Pollux?" Hermione asked Draco. For the moment she preferred not thinking about the scroll that Luna was brandishing. She tried telling herself over and over again that no matter what Harry's note said she could handle it. She had Draco backing her up now after all. She could handle it! She could!

"Yes," said Luna answering for Draco. "And he nips at my fingers every time I go to use him."

"Well if you would stop teasing him, calling him Polly and such−"

Luna pouted. "I'm just showing him affection."

"He's a bloody eagle owl! He'd eat you if you were small enough!"

"Children, break it up," Hermione said sternly cutting off their little squabble. "What did you tell him, Luna?"

"I just told the poor dear that you were safe and sound here, and that Lover was entertaining you."

"Bet that went over well. He's going to have my head," Draco said shaking his. He was smiling though and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Draco and Harry spent a lot of time antagonizing each other just for sport.

Then she thought of the secret that Draco now had that he could hold over Harry's head.

But Draco won't tell Harry, she told herself over and over again. Telling Harry would only hurt her. Draco wouldn't want to hurt her. Draco could get no satisfaction out of telling Harry this. The secret was safe.

"I also told him that you would be having dinner with us. Pollux came back with this for you."

Luna held the scroll out to Hermione. Hermione eyed the parchment with trepidation before standing up and walking over to her. She took the scroll, unfurled it, and read the short note written in what was unmistakably Harry's hand.

"Damn! He says that he's coming over here later," she said as she began to tear at her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Don't worry, leave him to me," Draco slyly told her. "I'll be ready for him. I'll give him a tour of the place; conveniently lock him in the portrait gallery. See how he likes it when two centuries worth of Lovegoods natter on for hours about the mating habits of the Blibbering Humdinger."

Luna's eyes bulged. "Holy hippogriffs! Even I think that's just mean. I told you the first time Daddy did that to you that it was merely an accident," she told him.

"And I believed you. However the fifth and sixth time it happened, did give me pause."

"What could poor Harry have possibly done to deserve that kind of treatment?"

Draco and Hermione's eyes met quickly, then skirted away.

"Nothing for you to worry your pretty head over, luv," he said as he left a peck on Luna's nose. "Just being sociable. I'm sure your fourth cousin Casper would just love to tell Potter the difference between Muggle hemorrhoids and the magical kind."

Despite the nervous rumbling of her stomach, Hermione's interest was piqued.

"Is there a difference?"

"No, not really. Although cousin Casper claims that his can hum the Habanera from Carmen," Luna answered.

"You can look at that portrait for hours and have no idea where the melody is coming from," added Draco sniggering at Hermione's mystified expression.

"I thought you were just going to distract Harry for me. That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment."

"Well you know what they say," said Luna as she gave Draco a squeeze, "if I don't allow him to torture at home, he'll just do it out in the street somewhere."

Draco laughed out loud.

Ok, so Luna was still bizarre. Draco, however, seemed to like it so Hermione figured that all was well.

"I think I'll just go and get dinner started," Luna said.

"What are we having tonight?" Draco asked her as she turned in his arms to face him.

"Shepard's Pie, I'm using Nanny Poe's secret recipe."

Draco's eyes darkened lustfully as he deeply growled, "I must have been a very good boy today."

"No. But I'm sure you will be tonight," Luna answered with a sneaky smile on her lips.

"Ahem, still in the room."

Hermione felt the need to remind these two of this small fact. She might think that Draco and Luna made a cute couple, but she didn't want to see them shag or anything right in front of her. Judging by the way they practically undressed each other with their eyes, Hermione wouldn't put it past them.

"So," Hermione said, drawing Luna's attention away from possibly humping Draco's leg, "what makes your Shepard's Pie so secret?"

"Nothing really," she said as she pulled away from Draco. "Grandmother just had a few unconventional cooking methods. She played around with all kinds of different spices and such. She rarely used her wand. Oh! And she liked to cook in the buff," Luna added, almost as an afterthought. "Would you like to come and help?"

Hermione's mouth hung open as she looked at Luna in abashed silence. Draco was practically bent over laughing.

"Nanny Poe practically made it into an art form really. She cooked just about everything starkers; naked rack of lamb, naked Toad in the Hole, naked Chicken a la King," Luna said, linking her arm with Hermione's. "According to her, grandfather never complained and cleaned his plate at every sitting."

Hermione was near speechless. Luna had her almost out the door by time Hermione came to and planted her feet firmly into the carpet to stay put.

"Oh, but don't worry," she told Hermione noticing her reticence. "You don't have to take off your clothes. You might feel a bit overdressed, though. You see, Lover likes to help in the kitchen too."

Hermione looked towards Draco and was horrified to see the devilish grin on his face.

"She usually lets me lick her bowl," he said waggling his eyebrows.

That was just about Hermione's limit!

"Um...I think I'm just fine out here," Hermione squeaked as she pulled out of Luna's hold.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I uh...I'm useless in a kitchen anyways."

Luna shrugged her shoulders and said, "Oh, alright."

She then turned back to Draco.

"Coming?"

Goodness! Did these two ever let up?!

"In a minute," he told her. She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. She turned to walk out the door, but not before removing one slipper from her foot. As Hermione and Draco watched her walk into the hall, she slipped the other one off.

Draco turned back to Hermione with a huge smile on his face.

"She's as mad as a hatter, but I love her!"

"Yes, well her boyfriend is one pancake short of a stack so they really are a well matched set, I should say," Hermione told him. Draco apparently found it funny because he chortled at the zinger. His eyes then traveled down to the note that Hermione still held tightly.

"Don't worry about Potter, Pet. Everything will be alright. I said I'll take care of it. You believe me don't you?"

Hermione gave a terse nod to her head as she cast her eyes downward.

"Yes," she lied.

"Good," he said as he slowly began to back himself out the study doors. It was obvious where his mind was at.

"Now I think I hear my Loony Love calling my name. I need to go give her a hand."

Hermione snorted. Draco had the decency to smile bashfully as he practically ran for the kitchen.

After watching Draco inelegantly stumble out of his shoes as he went racing into the hall, Hermione sighed and made her way back to the settee. She sat down, and after glancing at the basket of scones on the floor, picked it up and took one out. She bit down on the slightly hard confection and hoped that whatever Draco and Luna were getting up to in the kitchen, they wouldn't be all night about it. She then unfurled the note in her hand and quietly read it to herself again.

Dearest Hermione,

Luna's told me that you are going to be spending the evening over at Lovegood House with her and that git Malfoy. I thought that you and I had plans to be together this evening. You and I and Ron, I mean.

Are you avoiding me? Is this about yesterday? Sorry about yesterday. We can pretend that nothing happened if you want.

I'm having dinner with the Weasleys. I'll be by later to walk you back to the Burrow. Don't shake your head at me. I know that you can take care of yourself, but it will be dark soon and you really shouldn't be walking alone. You know how much I would hate it if anything happened to you. Besides, wouldn't it be nice to spend some more time alone?

Not that I'm trying to get you alone. Bugger, I sound like I'm 15 years old again.

It's just that I miss spending time with you.

Merlin! Now I sound like a 15 year old girl. Sorry. Please just wait for me at Luna's. Please.

Yours always,

Harry

Hermione read and caressed the last three words gently with her fingertips. She leaned back against the settee and closed her eyes wearily as she brought the letter to her side. She didn't notice it as it fell from her hand and fluttered to the floor.

Yours always, Harry. If only it were true, she bitterly thought. If only.

A/N: Next up is Lavender Brown-Pye's POV. Things to look forward to: wedding dress shopping, a near tragedy at the British World Cup, and someone fears that she just might not make it to the altar.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Mrs. Kerr, Fifi, Pollux the eagle owl, Casper Lovegood, Nanny Poe, and Luna's grandfather are canon.

2) Tír na nÓg is a real Irish fairytale that I tweaked for use in this story.

3) Discordium is named after the Roman goddess Discord/Greek goddess Eris, the goddess of strife. Interestingly enough her counter goddess was named Harmonia.

4)"You unimaginable bastard!" is a quote from Titanic.

5) ff.net won't do the strike throughs so in Harry's letter the following words have strikes through them; the "est" in Dearest, that git, are you avoiding me, is this about yesterday. The letter is just to show a bit of Harry's mind frame at this point.

6) The Riverto Spell, the Discordium potion(Elixir of Eris), and the execrapotio concept are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.