Chapter Text
August.
Three and a Half Years Later
“Hermione!!”
Theo’s voice interrupts her daily stare at the abandoned house. She sighs before closing the book she has been pretending to read for the past two hours. She sits up straight, her back to the window, waiting for Theo to find her.
“The plan didn’t work!” he announces as he bursts in. Hermione takes in his appearance: jeans covered in paint or chalk, messy hair, and a gray shirt that clearly hasn’t seen an ironing board in quite some time. She smiles, knowing damn well that his disheveled look is because he has just survived breakfast with his children.
“Did they get their letters?” Hermione asks, excitement washing over her.
“Yes! Peter and Poppy are already planning all the chaos they’ll bring to Slytherin House, while Kim and Mel told George they’re going to choose Hufflepuff. The man choked on his egg, trying to fake a smile. It was hilarious!” Theo walks toward her and sits on the window seat beside her. “But that was not the plan! And we failed!”
Theo turns to her, looking deadly serious.
“Theo, perhaps this ‘plan’ only took place in your head?”
“Maybe?” Theo sighs; she holds back a laugh.
“Care to fill me in, then?” Hermione asks.
“So, you know Fred,” Theo begins.
“Yes…”
“He betrayed me!! The plan was to get Fred on my side so when the kids and George teamed up against me, I’d at least have him! But do you know what that piece of shit did?”
Hermione shakes her head.
“When I suggested we go on a cruise to celebrate their Hogwarts letters before they leave next month, the kids remembered the Titanic. They’re too fucking scared! I told them that, of course, our ship won’t go down and that we aren’t crossing the ocean to America because that’s stupid—we’re just taking a safe little trip around our own depressing forever winter island. Everyone turned against me! Everyone, Hermione!”
“I told you not to let them watch Titanic!”
“But I fast-forwarded through the part where they fuck in the carriage and when Rose gets naked!”
“Well, good, but maybe the whole ship sinking and Jack dying didn’t help?”
“You’re missing the point!”
“Sorry. Go back to the point.” She crosses her legs and rests her head on her fist, her elbow on her knee; she adores the chaos that is Theodore Nott as a father.
“Everyone turned against me! And then I looked at Fred, hoping this was my moment—that I’d have someone on my side…”
“I don’t think Fred counts as 'someone,' Theo.”
“Shhh, listen! I was sure the little fucker would side with me, but then he jumped into Lauren’s lap, looked at me, and you won’t believe it—” Theo finds her free hand and squeezes it tight, as if he were about to tell her the most heartbreaking news in the world. “‘Loser!’ He said ‘Loser!’ to my face, Hermione. Our plan didn’t work.”
“So your cockatoo betrayed you,” Hermione summarizes, trying to picture the scene.
“Yes! I gave him love and attention, and the fucker called me a loser. I need a new animal!”
“Twelve kids, ten horses, five cows, three sheep, thirteen chickens, three dogs, two hamsters, and one cockatoo are not enough animals for you?”
“Not when they’re all turning against me! It’s George's fault; no one can say no to him. Ugh, maybe I should get a dragon.”
“No!” Hermione says, at the same time, George, Luna, Neville, Blaise, and Pansy walk in.
“He betrayed me,” Theo hisses as George sits next to him.
“I know, love, I was there,” George says, pulling Theo close. “Maybe we shouldn't have named him Fred. Fred would have sided with the kids against us every time.”
“I bet he’s laughing at me,” Theo mutters. “Now give me some love; I’m sad and betrayed.”
“Go to your room!” Neville jokes before they can get too carried away.
“I love that we have a room in your house,” George laughs. “It’s more of our escape room from the chaos of our own place.”
“Well, can you tell us how the letter-receiving went?” Neville asks, summoning tea to the large table in the middle of the drawing room.
The group makes its way to the table. George and Theo retell how excited their wizard children are to go to Hogwarts, and how the Muggle children—who are also eleven—are over the moon to go to the international Muggle school in Brazil.
Hermione is so happy for them. Since the war ended, the world has become more aware of the wizarding world. Theo and George aren’t the only ones who have adopted Muggle orphans alongside wizarding children, just as Pansy and Neville have. They have four kids now, but they are only five years old; it will be years before they have to go to Diagon Alley for supplies.
The international school was inspired by the tribes in the Amazon who have lived among magic for decades. They teach children about the wizarding world—its politics and safety protocols—even if they aren't magical themselves. Hermione was invited to tour the place when George and Theo went. She has become a celebrity, even bigger than Harry once was, but she prefers to spend her days at the house.
The kids keep her busy enough, as does her research. After many trials and errors, Hermione and Pansy have developed a potion that makes life easier for survivors. Hermione doesn't feel the excruciating pain of her migraines anymore. She doesn't have to spend days in a dark room, unable to hear a voice. She doesn't have to miss time with the children or leave early because their laughter hurts her head.
But even though they have made progress, they still haven't found a potion or rune to unlock her lost memories. She has tried four different potions and two runes over the last year, always after long debates with the others about the risk of seizures. She hasn't had a seizure, but the memories remain locked. Now, her only hope is the next batch of potion they are brewing with a special ingredient Draco has secured for them.
He has become their "dealer" of sorts, always obtaining rare and expensive ingredients. But Hermione hasn't seen him. She writes him letters, mostly telling him about the progress of their research. She sees him as an investor in their work and wants to keep him updated, but he never replies. She can't lie and say her heart doesn't sink every time Theo shakes his head when she asks if Draco has written back.
She doesn’t know why she cares so much. But after all these years, they are finally going to see each other at the Hogwarts inspection next week.
Hogwarts is finally reopening this September. Draco Malfoy refused the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, leaving the spot for Lupin to take over once again, alongside Ginny as the Quidditch coach. Her kids will be attending in a couple of years, and she wants to be near them. They will now be living in Hogsmade until the kids can attend the school.
Though Draco said no to teaching, he offered his services as one of the most efficient spell-casters of the century to add protective wards around the school. According to the Daily Prophet, he has spent over six months going to the school every day to add spells, refusing to stay at the castle despite Minerva’s offer. It seems Hogwarts haunts him as much as it haunts her.
Hermione didn't want to go back at first. But the Hogwarts Welcoming Gala is a way to show parents it is safe to send their kids back. After a letter from Minerva begging her to come—knowing that if Hermione approves, the public will follow—she agreed. Minerva says she doesn't want Hermione to feel used, but Hermione understands the weight her name carries. For Minerva, she will go.
“I got our dresses, by the way!” Pansy says.
Hermione blinks, realizing she has stepped back into her mind again while her friends talk. She has done this a lot throughout the years—retreating to the foreign but safe lands of her own thoughts.
“And Chase Andrews sent you another letter,” Pansy says, handing her an envelope.
“How many has he sent this week alone?” Theo asks.
“I don’t know,” Hermione says, at the same time Luna and Pansy both say, “Three.”
She puts the letter on the table and reaches for her tea, sniffing the Earl Grey before leaning back. She plays with her left ring finger while the others talk about Chase.
“He helped us a lot with the new pain-relief potion. Maybe write him back, Hermione,” Pansy says softly.
“I’m not looking for the same thing he is, Pans,” she replies, staring at the window. She can't see the abandoned house from the table, but it gives her comfort to know it is there.
Hermione’s hand moves to the faint scar above her breast—the one she asked Luna about years ago. Luna explained she had tried to use a bonding rune to help them fight better during the war, but it hadn't worked. When Hermione asked who she had tried to bond with, Luna hesitated before saying Cho’s name.
She finds herself touching the rune often, trying to think of Cho, but it isn't her friend’s face that comes to mind. It is no one’s face—just a feeling she can't name. She suspects Luna lied, and the person she had tried to bond with is someone her brain still can't process without hurting her.
“Anyway, let’s make the list for the materials the kids will need,” Pansy says, and the next hour is spent discussing shopping trips.
———————-
Hermione looks around the Great Hall, trying to take it all in. “It seems smaller,” she whispers to Theo and George.
“I think the Slytherin table is shorter than the others,” Theo remarks.
“It’s not, love,” George says. But Theo grabs his glass and raises his wand. “I’m going to measure it.” Then he is off.
“How are you doing?” George leans in to ask.
“I’m fine, George. Promise.”
“No headaches?”
She shakes her head. Their new potion was ready this morning, and she took it, hoping memories would flood back, but nothing happened. She hasn't even felt the quick, stabbing pain at the back of her head like other times. She has failed once again.
“You’ll get them back, Hermione,” George says.
“How long until I can go?” she whispers, trying to smile as people stare at her like a precious painting in a museum.
“Maybe after Minerva’s speech?”
Hermione sighs. “Can you cover for me? I need a break.”
George takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “Go on. I’ll alert you when it’s time to come back.” He taps her bracelet to alert the others, and she nods gratefully. They still wear the bracelets; it is how their group communicates, though Hermione has designed a "do not disturb" rune to block Theo from randomly broadcasting his every thought when he is taking a dump.
Hermione’s contribution to the Hogwarts safety measures has been the runes. Once they realized Voldemort had used an artifact to block their runes during the war, Hermione found a way to use that knowledge to make the castle even safer. As she walks the empty halls, she sees her runes carved into the stone and smiles. Her nieces and nephews will be safer here than they ever were.
Her feet carry her to the Astronomy Tower without her realizing it. She takes the stairs to the top and pushes the door open, sighing in relief at the quiet—but then she sees him. Standing at the balcony, Draco Malfoy looks at her as if he had seen a ghost.
“Oh... sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I can go,” she says, half-hoping he will say no.
Draco seems unsure what to say. He looks at her, never averting his eyes, and Hermione takes the chance to take him in. He looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he has lost weight since their school days. But what strikes her are his eyes—they are a deep, piercing blue. Perhaps it is the moonlight, but they look glossy, shining under the bright sky.
He wears a dark suit with a dark shirt, and a silver chain peeks out from his collar.
“It’s okay. You can stay if you want.” His first words to her in years.
“Run, Mudblood,” he had said that night. It is as if two different men stand before her: the boy from her memories and the man who saved them.
“How are you?” she asks, walking toward him. Her heels are the only sound in the room. Draco watches her as if afraid to blink; she will be gone or maybe punch him again. She meets him at the balcony and rests her elbows on the stone, looking at the stars. She shivers; her green dress is modest by Pansy’s standards, but the spaghetti straps don't cover much of her shoulders.
A warm coat is suddenly draped around her. She turns her head to look at Draco. He waits, as if for a reaction.
“Thanks,” she says, pulling the coat closer. She catches a scent—Earl Grey, apples, and something else.
Draco rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. She can't help but see the scar where his Mark once was—a Mark she helped remove, though she doesn't remember doing it. His other arm has tattoos, but before she can process them, his voice brings her back.
“How are you?”
“I asked you first,” she teases.
“Do you want the rehearsed answer or the true one?” he asks, lifting a brow.
Hermione knows what he means. Three years since the war, and no one is truly "fine." “The truth,” she says.
“I’ve had better days, but right now... I can breathe.”
Hermione nods, struck by the sudden, quiet ability to do the same. It is as if the simple act of inhaling has been a chore until this very moment. Perhaps it is the bite of the mountain air or the sanctuary found away from prying eyes, but the tightness in her chest finally begins to unspool.
“Are you hiding here?” she asks, her voice barely a notch above the wind. “I haven't seen you in the Great Hall.”
“Just arrived. Not really my scene,” he says honestly.
“Yeah. I get it.”
“Not enjoying the fame, huh, Granger?”
“Do you want the rehearsed answer or the true one?”
“Always the truth.”
“I hate it,” she laughs, feeling free to admit it to him. Surprising her, he laughs too, though his eyes never leave her face.
“Are they bothering you? Harassing you?” he asks seriously.
“I don’t leave my house much, but when I do, yes. I can’t even go to a bookshop in Diagon Alley without it causing a scene. I know it’s silly to complain—we won, and not being able to buy books in peace is a small price to pay.”
“But it bothers you. That’s valid. Two things can be true at the same time. It’s a shame they don’t allow the use of the ‘not here’ rune anymore, isn’t it?”
Hermione laughs. Her own work has come back to bite her, as some runes are now forbidden to avoid chaos. “I wish I could become invisible every now and then.”
Draco nods. “Have you received my letters?” she asks. She knows he receives them from the others, but she wants to know why he won't reply.
“Yes. Sorry, for not replying. You don't need to tell me about the progress of your research, though. I don’t want you to feel obliged.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Fine.”
“Great?” she adds, unsure.
“Excellent,” he replies, and she laughs.
“How many synonyms do you know?”
“Try me,” he says.
“Don’t stimulate my brain too much; it gives me a headache,” she teases.
“Noted.”
At the sound of that one word, something rings in her mind. It is like a ringing telephone, but she has no idea where she placed it. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to make sense of the mess her brain has become.
“Hermio—Granger?” Draco’s voice makes her open her eyes. He is looking at her with immediate concern. “Are you okay? Maybe we should go back—”
“Draco,” she says, and he stops.
She doesn't know what to say. She just looks at him, trying to figure out why he feels so much more familiar than just a boy she went to school with. But then her brain starts hurting. She feels the beginning of a migraine.
“Yes... I should go back. Thank you for sharing your hiding spot. And thanks for all the ingredients you got us.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he says softly.
“I do. You’ve done so much these last few years. I don’t want to ask you for more.”
“You don’t ask enough,” he whispers, more to the sky than to her. She sees the haunting in his eyes and wants to know how he truly is—how the war shadows him. But she doesn't ask. She turns and walks away.
A wind blows, and she smells the Earl Grey from his jacket. She is about to turn to give it back to him when her fingers find a tiny embroidery on the lapel: a little golden bee and a black cat. If you aren't close enough, you won't see it. Hermione runs her fingers over it. A fire burns inside her. Her mind swirls, and she turns on her heels.
“Bee,” she whispers, still looking at the patterns on his jacket. “Are you okay?”
Draco is standing just a few feet away, his hand reaching out for her before he second-guesses himself and fists his palm at his side. She looks into the deep ocean of his eyes, holding his gaze as if afraid he will be gone if she blinks.
Hermione takes him in. His hair is now messier than it was a mere minute ago, and she can see he has unbuttoned one of his shirt buttons. A ring hangs on a silver chain, a green stone resting in the middle of his chest. She takes one step closer to him, feeling a gravitational pull. Draco’s eyes find hers; he looks like a mix of worry and hope. She doesn't know why she reaches out, her fingers slightly touching the skin of his forearms.
She feels his body go rigid, and she looks up, finding his eyes once again. She can see a storm in them, and he is barely breathing, just like her. She waits for him to push her away. When he doesn't, she traces her fingers again over the vines and the little tail of a dragon peeking from his sleeve.
She doesn't know what comes over her. Her brain becomes foggy with every passing moment of touching his skin, but it isn't the haze of pain she is used to.
“Are you okay?” His voice is rough and breathy. Hermione looks up. This close, she can see his features better—how haunted he seems by the past few years. She can also see the ring on his chest more clearly, and she notices a small, faint scar peeking from his shirt near his heart. She moves her hands from his skin, immediately regretting it as her body goes cold.
But her fingers travel up to the ring resting on his chest. She doesn't touch him or the ring yet.
“What’s this?” she asks, though her brain somehow tells her she knows. “It’s beautiful. What stone is it?” She lets her finger linger above it, not yet daring to touch.
“Fallen star,” he says. When Hermione looks up, she can see a tear coming down his cheek. Whoever this belonged to was important to him; she can feel that much.
“Are you telling me the stone is an actual fallen star?”
“You tell me. You have always been smarter than me.”
“So you admit I’m smarter than you? It only took you what? A couple of decades,” she teases. His body shakes, but this time with a small laugh. The sound travels through her body. Hermione then dares to touch the ring. Only her index finger finds the cold metal, and she feels as if a force has moved against her. She loses her balance, but Draco’s arms come around her waist, pulling her tight against him.
She fists his shirt, her little finger brushing against the faint scar on his skin, and she feels that push and pull around her mind and body once more.
“Hermione.” He breathes her name like a plea. She looks up, finding his eyes. She will spend a lifetime wondering what came over her at that moment—why she said the word—but right now, it seems like the simplest thing she could do.
“Bee.”
“Hermione.”
The End
What if I forget again?
I’ll read it again then.
Promise?
Yes, Bee. I promise.