38. Chapter 38

Hello beauties. We have two chapters left after this.

So, I'm going to save my babbling for later.

Disclaimer: No

I love you all.

Draco opened the door to his apartment slowly. Walking in, he almost slipped over a box on the floor. He sighed slightly. The flat looked exactly as it had when he had first moved in.

Boxes covered every inch of the once visible surfaces. The windows were thrown open, showing the slightly blue and sparkly Thames river. He could see Big Ben as well. This flat represented all the simple things in life.

When he had bought this flat, it had become his sanctuary. His place where he could hide from everything in his past and everything in his present. But now, it was simply a room.

He was done with running away from things. They always caught up with him in the end. It didn't matter what he did.

Fucking fate.

It had been one day since Hermione had woken up. Draco's magic transfer had worked exactly as he had intended it to. He had given her enough of his magic for her to re-habilitate. That type of transfer was a nearly impossible type of magic. But when you have a power that's both more wonderful and terrible than death, human intelligence and the forces of nature, nothing's impossible.

She had looked at him with her hazy eyes and thanked him. She had known it was him. Did she hear him speak to her? Did she know how he felt? Whatever she knew or heard, there had been no hate in her eyes.

That had been enough to get him through the last twenty four hours.

The healers had immediately cut off Hermione's contact with everyone. They wanted to make sure all her memories were intact without outside intrusion. That didn't make any sense to Draco though. Shouldn't people from her past be the best way to figure out if her memories were back?

No one could see her. They had been sent home. Draco hadn't known where to go. Hogwarts was the first thought, but he wasn't that sure about going. Then he thought about Canada, with Justin and Katie. He was a little too drained to make the cross-Atlantic apparation in one piece. Then finally, he settled on the manor.

He had not been expecting what he had found.

The manor had exploded. Completely, utterly destroyed. The once mighty building lay in chunks. And was on fire. He couldn't recognize anything in the smoldering ruins. His breath had caught.

For a moment he had felt joy. The place of nightmares, of his mother's imprisonment, and of murder and death was gone. Burning. Destroyed. Never going to exist again.

But then, it fully hit him.

His home. His childhood, or lack thereof, was burning before his eyes. The moments where his mother had hugged him. The first time he had done magic. And from his later life. Hermione in his arms, kissing him. Sleeping in her bed. Holding her. Gone.

As he stared at the burning ruins of his childhood home, he had memories flood his mind, both the good and the bad. That building had housed so many moments that would stay with him forever.

But that was all it was. A building. The memories, the moments, those were with him always. He didn't need a manor to remember them. He would never forget the drawing room, or Hermione sleeping in his arms.

He shouldn't. He needed to remember them. They were life-defining moments. They would stay with him.

Even as the manor burned away before his eyes.

It felt like the end of an era. Draco had stared at the Manor for one final moment, taking it in. Then, he had turned.

He had moved past it.

He had spotted the house elves cowering a few hundred metres away. He was relieved they had all survived. He sent them to Hogwarts. They could work there now.

Then, without hesitation, and without turning, he had apparated to Hogwarts.

It was time to go home.

He didn't speak to anyone, except Mcgonagall. She had let him in.

He spent the day wandering the halls, stopping at different places when a memory flooded his mind. He had smiled in places, frowned in others, and burst into laughter in just a few (thanks twins).

A few students had stared at him, but he had barely noticed.

That day had been about him.

He had gone to the Slytherin Common Room. (Mcgonagall had given him the password). He stared at the couches where he and his friends had complained about teachers and Gryffindors. He found his old dormitory, and thought about the nights he had spent wide awake, his brain going crazy.

He had gone down to the Potions Classroom. Slughorn had been teaching a lesson, but had let him stand in the corner and think. He thought about his godfather, how he had so easily sacrificed himself for the one that he had loved. A Slytherin dying a Gryffindor's death.

Draco really missed the hook nosed ex-potions master sometimes.

He had walked to the seventh floor and entered the room of hidden things. It still worked after the giant fire, though it smelled distinctly of smoke. Draco had sat down in the middle of the room, cross legged like a child. He had stared forward blankly. The last time Crabbe had been alive had been in that room.

For the next few minutes, all of Draco's walls had crumbled.

When he had left the room, he had begun to wander the grounds. Eventually, he had sat down on the grass by the lake. Staring at the giant squid, he thought about what Hogwarts meant to him.

When he had first arrived at that school, he had been nervous. Scared, traumatized from a love-less childhood. This had resulted in a state of being a little prick. But, over the years, he had begun to feel at home within the walls. He had found some great teacher mentors. He had found some lifelong friends. He had mocked Hogwarts when he was with company, but inside, he loved every part of the school.

It had changed him. And even though it was no longer his school, and no longer his place of residence, it would always be there for him. That castle would always be a constant in his life, whether he had entered it for seven years or not.

Hogwarts would always be there to welcome him home.

He had dozed off with that thought in his mind.

He had woken up when the sun began to shine in his eyes. He had still been sitting by the lake. He had fallen asleep there, and by the sunrise, he had slept for nearly twelve hours.

He had walked up to the castle, and ducked down to the kitchens. He grabbed a sandwich and scarfed it down.

Then, he had apparated to his flat.

Now, he stood staring out the window. The manor and Hogwarts had left his mind. Instead, he was preoccupied with her. Predictable.

He didn't know what was happening with her. It was really starting to worry him. Was she still at the hospital? Had she been released? Where was she? Was she alright? Did all her memories return perfectly? Did her power supply replenish? Did she remember her time without her memories? Draco had heard of that happening: when a memory loss victim regained their memories, sometimes their time without the memories became fuzzy, distant, like a dream instead of a reality. Could that have happened to Hermione?

There were so many questions.

Draco sat down.

Almost the moment he had, someone knocked on the door. Draco groaned and lumbered over. If someone was going to bother him, why couldn't they come after he had finished pondering?

Draco opened the door. Then he sighed.

"Well, shit, Potter."

The boy who lived was standing in his doorway. He looked as he usually did. His hair was a little messier than usual though.

He invited himself in.

The chosen one looked around Draco's flat, looking at all the different boxes. "When did you move in?"

"A month back," Draco said. A month, only a month. It felt like a lifetime.

Potter nodded. They stood awkwardly for a moment.

"So, uh, Potter. Why are you here?"

"I came to tell you that Hermione's been released."

Draco's eyes popped open. "Well, where is she?"

"Grimmauld Place."

Draco stared at Potter for a moment. "In what world is that a good idea?"

Potter sighed. "In mine. Listen, Hermione doesn't have a home to go back to. Her parents are dead. And she's fine with it."

Draco felt the surprise flicker on his face. "Does she remember the last night she was here?"

Potter nodded. "She remembers everything."

Everything, Draco mused.

Potter ran a hand through his hair. "Also, Hermione and I need to talk. I wanted to hang out in a place where I could control the exits and entrances."

Draco couldn't help laughing. "Because that worked so well a few days ago."

Potter rolled his eyes. "I re-did the Fidelius charm the yesterday. It was like a re-set button. Kingsley is still secret keeper, but he has to re-invite people."

"Hmm," said Draco. "That might work then. And, yeah, you and Hermione need to have a talk."

Truer words had never been spoken.

Potter nodded. "Anyway, the Weasleys are throwing Hermione a welcome back party. I came to invite you."

Draco was taken aback. "Umm, thanks Potter."

There was another moment of silence.

Potter spoke up. "Just come around the burrow at 5. Everyone's going to go."

Draco nodded. "I'll be there."

Potter stuck out his hand. Draco took it and gave it a firm shake.

"Thanks for taking care of her, Malfoy."

"No problem, Potter," he said.

Potter let go of his hand and turned to the door.

"I'll see you later…Draco."

"Yeah, you too…Harry."

With that, the boy who lived left.

Draco looked at the clock on the wall. He still had basically the entire day. Fuck.

He looked around the flat. Well, maybe he could finally fully move in.

For the rest of the day, Draco cleaned his flat. He pushed Hermione to the back of his brain. He couldn't focus if he spent all his time worrying about her. So, for that day, it was just Draco and his boxes.

Finally, at 4:23, he finished. The flat looked magnificent, with not a single box in sight. Now that Draco could see the floor, he could see himself living here. This was his space now.

Now, he had thirty eight minutes to freak out.

Thirty eight minutes to find the right clothes. Thirty eight minutes to make his hair spectacular. Thirty eight minutes to find a good pair of shoes.

Thirty eight minutes with her face in his mind. Thirty eight minutes to imagine all the different things he might say to her. Thirty eight minutes to wonder if her feelings had changed since her memory returned. Thirty eight minutes to calm his racing heart.

Thirty eight minutes to wonder why he was the pattern. Thirty eight minutes to worry about the future. Their future. If they even had a possible future together.

Those thirty eight minutes were the longest thirty eight minutes of his life.

Eventually, at 4:57, he was ready.

He was wearing black jeans, with a green t-shirt. Slytherin for life. His hair wasn't gelled. It was kind of messy. Draco thought it made him look endearing, like a scruffy puppy. He was wearing black sneakers.

He was trying to stay casual. He didn't know what Hermione would say if he showed up in a tux with a bouquet of roses.

His heart was beating at a slightly quickened pace, but it was better than it had been before. Draco was ready.

Or as ready as he'd ever be.

With that thought in mind, he apparated away to the burrow.

He landed just outside the front gate. With a deep breath, he walked into the yard.

It was obviously a more intimate gathering. It wasn't a large crowd in the slightest. The Weasleys were all there, naturally. Longbottom, Looney, Kingsley, Hagrid, Mcgonagall, Seamus, Dean, and Blaise. Padma and Parvarti were there as well. Hermione didn't seem to be there yet.

Blaise eyed Draco and beckoned him over. The auror was talking with his fiancée, Padma. Draco vaguely wondered when the wedding was going to be.

"Hey Draco, mate!" Blaise smiled. Padma wrapped her arm around Draco's waist and gave him a small hug. He and Padma had always gotten along.

"Hello Draco," she said, smiling. Draco returned it. Blaise hugged Padma to him. Draco stared at them for a moment, thinking about that little moment they had just shared. Draco was happy that Blaise had such a great relationship. No one deserved love more than Blaise.

And yet, what made someone deserving of love? Whether or not they were a good person, whether or not they were a little crazy, or if they were beautiful? Draco thought everyone deserved love. But, not everyone got it. And sometimes, the people who needed it the most didn't get any at all.

"Hey guys," Draco responded. "How're you?"

Blaise shrugged. "Good, I guess. I feel weird. Did you know that the Hermione Granger case is officially closed? Forever? After we left the hospital, I went to the ministry. With my testimony, and the capture of the other death eaters, as well as Nott's official testimony, it's closed. Yaxley, the dead bastard, and the six others have been charged. Every mystery is solved. Seven years. And now it's over. It's been such a huge part of my life. I'm happy it's closed. But it feels like the end of an age, you know?"

Draco shook his head. "No. It's just the beginning."

Padma chuckled. When Draco shot her a look, she spoke. "When did you get so insightful?"

"When Fate decided I should be," he responded.

Padma giggled. Blaise pulled her in and kissed her cheek. Draco smiled at them, but felt an ache in his heart. He wanted what they had. Except, not which a gorgeous Indian lady.

Maybe a beautiful bookworm would do.

Blaise kept talking. "And now Hermione's memory is back, and the memory block is gone, and maybe we might get some stability in our lives."

Memory block. The words bounced around Draco's head. Something didn't click. He thought about it for a moment. Then he got confused.

"Oi, Blaise," he asked, turning to his best friend. "How did Hermione do the memory block?"

"What do you mean?" Blaise asked, confused.

"Like, how did she do it and un-do it? She was wandless both times. The first time, she was almost broken. She was weak , bruised, and bloody. She was completely magically drained the second time around. The death eaters didn't even notice the buzzing that came along with the spell. I don't understand how she pulled it off."

Blaise nodded, understanding Draco's confusion. "After you sent Kingsley that letter about the memory block, I looked them up. Memory blocks aren't based on magical strength."

Draco raised his eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Blaise continued. "Remember what the reasons for casting a memory block were? To protect memories for sentimental value, you don't want anyone to be able to access them, or you have hope that they will return one day, even if your other memories don't. Those are all emotionally based reasons. Love, protectiveness, and hope. Overall, you want to keep the memories because they mean something to you."

Draco still didn't get it.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Ok, so when you cast a memory block, it's based on emotional strength, not magical. If you are protecting the memories because the mean something to you, usually something to do with love, you have to really love and cherish them. If you want to protect them, you must have the protectiveness of a mama bear protecting her cubs. If you're hopeful that they're going to return, you must be filled with a hope more blinding than the sun."

Draco got it.

Blaise smiled. "So Hermione, for whichever reason she protected her memories, was filled with such a strong and blinding emotion that she could perform the charm at her weakest and with no wand."

Draco felt something stir deep inside of him.

She had remembered him. She had felt a strong and blinding emotion for him.

Blaise kept talking.

"The death eaters couldn't hear the buzzing, because if there is one thing death eaters don't understand, it's emotions. The memory block is emotional."

Draco nodded, understanding. His mind was racing. A strong and blinding emotion…..

Just then Seamus walked up. Dean was at his side. Those two were inseparable.

In Seamus' hand was a bottle of firewhiskey. He conjured up some glasses and handed them out. He poured them all a glass.

Seamus lifted his in a toast. "To Hermione Granger, who isn't really here yet, but who has changed all of our lives. May she never disappear for seven years again."

Draco drank to that.

He looked down at the glass in his hand. Oh, alcohol, he thought. The one thing that was always just there. It affected him more than it really should've.

Now that he thought about it, alcohol affected a lot many moments of his life. When he had run into Hermione the first time in Canada, he had been smashed out of his mind. At the gala, in the final moments of antagonizing muggle Weasley, champagne had been on his brain. Moscow. All of Moscow.

Going back further. The Yule Ball. It was the first time he had really been drunk. Some of the older students had brought some stuff in. Draco had gotten smashed. He didn't really remember anything other than Hermione walking in, even eleven years later.

He hoped nothing interesting had happened later.

An image flitted across his mind. A few snowflakes falling through the air onto cobblestones. A faint twinkling filled his ears, music from another time.

Draco tried to focus on what he was seeing, but the image and eerie music vanished. The picture disappeared into wisps of smoke. He was unable to grasp them. They felt close, but unreachable.

Draco shook his head clear. An errant thought, a dream, should not affect him right now. He had other things to focus on.

But yet, it felt important.

But just then, he was shaken out of his reverie by Blaise. The auror was gesturing to the entrance of the yard. Draco's heart stopped.

Harry was walking in. He looked…Draco didn't even have an adjective for how Harry looked.

He looked like he had just gotten his best friend back.

And then, there was the best friend.

She was wearing a simple pair of jeans, a green t shirt and a black hoodie. Her shoes were red converse. Her hair was left down. She had her hands in her pockets.

She was smiling, her eyes shining as she took everyone in. Her face shone with confidence, and self-awareness. She knew who she was. She knew what she wanted. And she knew what she had.

Her happiness was a wave that washed over everyone.

Draco stared, unblinkingly at her. Words began to bounce around his head, taking shape and then disappearing, like the image had just prior.

Words about who she was.

The bookworm. The Gryffindor Princess. The mudblood. The beauty. The warrior. The scholar. The heroine. The girl. The woman.

The love of his life.

Hermione Granger was back.

Review friends. We are so close.