To a Better End

Chapter 38

October 22nd, 1976

They travelled right back to the night they left, back to their cottage in The Hebrides that Hermione called home. Hermione started to feel the loss of memories. She could feel the gaps and the falsities in her mind. Her thoughts felt both empty and crowded at the same time.

Hermione needed to feel busy. She needed to feel like she didn't just fuck everything up. Grabbing the kettle, she resolved to make a cup of tea. The first sip was lacking something, and Draco seemed to agree. Reaching into the top cabinet, Draco grabbed the firewhiskey and poured a generous amount into each of their cups.

The burn was painful, but they both relished the feeling of the additional warmth. They stood in silence, drinking spiked tea, illuminated by only the moonlight through their window. Hermione wanted to say so much, but couldn't find that Gryffindor courage.

"I'm going to have to go for a while."

His words immediately hurt. She knew she was the reason he had to leave. As though sensing her emotions, Draco stepped into her and brushed her curls away from her face. Even after everything she'd done, he still cared for her.

"Draco, I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry we lost someone, but I'm never going to be sorry for saving you."

"You've been calling me Draco," he said softly. He reached out for a curl and held it gently between two fingers.

"You call me Hermione," she responded simply.

"Sometimes." He seemed distracted and rightly so.

"Friends should use each other's proper names." She looked up into his eyes, admiring how the moonlight complimented the silver.

Draco released the curl he was holding and stepped back. "Yes. Friends."

"When do you leave?" She hated the desperation in her voice.

"Tonight. I'm going to need all of the time turners."

"All of them?!"

Draco nodded. "And Granger, I'm going to need you to be very good and don't go murdering any more Death Eaters." He set down his cup, and another thought came to him. "Actually, no murdering at all."

"Yes, sir," she said, rolling her eyes.

Draco smirked. "Hmm, I quite like that."

Hermione cleared her throat, avoiding the look in his eyes. "Where are you going to go."

Turning to pack a bag, Draco said, "I can't tell you yet."

"Are you serious?" she called after him.

He called over his shoulder, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she replied confidently.

"Then trust me."

*****

October 23rd 1976

By the time all was said and done and Draco was gone, the sun was on the precipice of rising. Rather than pushing through the day with no sleep, Hermione took to the bed. Feeling strange in it, she pulled the covers over her body, letting sleep claim her.

Hermione woke up in a sweat. Images of the duel filled her mind. The scariest one was the feeling of being frozen and seeing Draco fall to the floor. She knew this was her mind playing tricks on her. She knew he was okay, wherever and whenever he was.

She had only managed a few hours of sleep but still stayed in bed a bit longer. It was strange to just be and do nothing, but Hermione's body needed it. By the time she got out of bed and showered, there was hardly any daylight left.