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Forgiven	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter or the books or contents. This work is purely for my own pleasure, no profit to be made.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Draco remembered running through the halls of Malfoy Manor with his friends. They pulled pranks, played tag, and terrorized the house elves. They were very mischievous boys. They had even used the drawing room more than a few times to play hide-and-seek. He had never been fearful in his own home (except when his father was disciplining him, that is.)
As he crossed the threshold with the Muggle born witch at his side, he learned about fearing his home very quickly. She clung onto his arm and buried her head in his shoulder. He had to give it to her that she didn’t run away in terror, but in a way, he wished she would. What he could see of her face was paler than his own skin and he knew his arm would be bruised by morning. But he didn’t push her away, instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her towards the dining room, which, thankfully, was far enough away from the drawing room.
He glanced at his mother in concern and she gave him a subtle shake of her head. His attention returned to the younger witch when he heard her sniffle against his shoulder. He stopped walking and lifted his free arm and rubbed her back as her body shuddered with sobs. He wanted to tell her everything would be alright, but he didn’t think those were the right words.
“Hermione,” he said softly in her ear. “Hermione, look at me.”
She shook her head, but he persisted, rubbing her back, “Come on, Granger. You’re a Gryffindor. You’ve faced the Dark Lord and countless Death Eaters.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes blotchy, swollen, and red. Tears fell freely from her eyes. “I… I’m so-sorry,” she stammered as she wiped her tears from her eyes. She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to dab at her face. Glancing down at it, her eyes widened. “Oh! This is your handkerchief,” she said, running a finger over the embroidery. “I don’t remember…”
“Are you ok, love?” he asked. While he liked that she had seemingly taken her mind off of the drawing room, he also didn’t want her thinking about the cloth.
She leaned against him as she continued focusing on the cloth, running her fingers over it. Tears still fell from her eyes as she nodded and then shook her head. “I… I never thought I’d…” her voice trailed off as she rested her forehead on his chest.
“Draco? Perhaps a bit of food will help her,” his mother suggested.
He nodded and glanced down at the witch in his arms. He silently thanked whatever god was watching that the shirt he was wearing could withstand her tears and bodily fluids. “Come on, Hermione. The dining room isn’t much further now,” he said, rubbing her back.
She nodded and straightened up. She wiped her eyes once more and placed the cloth back into her pocket. She glanced at Narcissa who gave her a reassuring smile. Hermione returned the smile with a quivering lip then took a deep breath and gave another nod to Draco. Still holding onto him in a near death grip, she let him lead her to the dining hall.
The moment they entered the room, Hermione glanced around curiously. The room was rather large, but the mahogany table was actually small with only six matching chairs surrounding it. A large chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling and gave a soft white light around the room. There weren’t any portraits in the room, but a large painting of a meadow with blue and pink flowers and a babbling brook. Rabbits and deer drank from the brook and nibbled at the long grass.
Draco pulled a chair out for her and Hermione sat cautiously. Light reflected off the wine glasses and silverware. Moving around the table, Draco helped his mother to sit before returning to Hermione’s side and sitting beside her. The Muggle born looked around the table, noticing the plates weren’t there. Also, “I’m surprised,” she commented. “Where’s the rest of the table?”
Draco stared at her in confusion as Narcissa’s laughter rang lightly throughout the room. The echo did not pass Hermione’s notice, but she ignored it. The older witch placed a hand on Hermione’s hand. “My dear girl, we don’t always use the larger table,” she told the Muggle born. “This is just for intimate family dinners, not hosting a large body of guests.”
The wizard nodded slowly as their wine glasses magically filled themselves with the dark red liquid. He smiled as he lifted his own glass. “What should we toast to, Mother?” he asked.
Narcissa returned his smile. “Perhaps Miss Granger should give it?” she suggested.
Hermione looked from the older witch to the wizard in surprise. “Oh, um… Alright,” she stammered, lifting her own glass. She thought for a moment, idly stirring the wine in her glass. “Um…” Her eyes met Draco’s cool grey eyes and it hit her. “To courage, for facing our fears and not letting them stop us from our dreams.”
They clinked their glasses, the chimes sounding like music to Hermione’s ears, and took sips from their drinks. The Muggle born’s eyes widened and she looked down at the wine in her glass. “Was this made here?” she asked curiously.
Draco had been studying her carefully when she made her toast and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “What dreams do you have that you’ve been afraid of?”
She bit her bottom lip and glanced away from him. She searched her mind for some way to respond without giving herself away. Finally, she turned back to Draco and her eyes landed on Narcissa. “I dream of seeing this family whole again,” she told him. “It just…” She looked around the room. “I’m going to be honest and, please, try to understand. I don’t know if your father and I will ever get along. In fact, I highly doubt we will. However, he should be here and… It is my dream to see him returned to you and your mother.”
His eyes narrowed. Plates of food appeared before them: roasted duck with stuffing and mixed vegetables. Draco raised his fork and pointed it at the Muggle born witch. “I have this urge to call you out? You may want to see my father free, though I haven’t the foggiest clue as to why but somehow I doubt that is the only dream you have.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he interrupted, “Actually, now that I think on it, why do you want to see my father free? I know I teased and tormented you and your friends, but he was downright cruel, wasn’t he? I had read about that whole Ministry battle in the paper, not to mention heard about it from other Death Eaters and even the Dark Lord. You fought him and he damn well nearly killed you lot.”
“Draco!” his mother hissed at him angrily.
The wizard looked at his mother. Realizing what he was saying, he became quiet. He truly did want to know, but he also knew that his questioning would possibly set him back. Nervous, he glanced at the Muggle born witch to see her staring at her plate, frozen. He could see the tears threatening to fall again and how she was fighting them from doing just that.
“Your father was cruel,” she replied softly. Though he could barely hear her, he did not try to lean towards her to hear her better. “In our second year, he slipped Ginny a book that almost killed her and several other people in the school.” She glanced up at him. “Remember all the Muggle borns that were Petrified that year, including me? That was all because he had given Ginny a diary that had once belonged to Tom Riddle. Being eleven years old, Ginny didn’t think anything of it when she found the diary among her school things and began writing in it. She was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets, though she didn’t know what she was doing. If it weren’t for Harry, she would have died down there and Voldemort would have returned a lot sooner.” Her eyes hardened.
He hadn’t know his father had been involved. A quick look to his mother told him that she hadn’t known either. Of course, if she had, she probably would have tried to stop the man. Draco glanced back at Hermione as she took another sip of her wine.
“You’re right, too, you know,” the Muggle born witch continued. “He and his Death Eater friends could have killed us all in the Department of Mysteries. If the Order hadn’t stepped in, they would have. As it was, Harry lost his godfather in that battle. Your blasted aunt killed her own cousin, did you know?” She scoffed and shook her head. “Of course you knew. No doubt she gloated about it after. And he was so excited at the idea of delivering us to Voldemort when Harry, Ron, and I were brought here by the Snatchers. He actually pressed you to make a positive ID. Do you remember that?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. “There were many times both before and during that final battle that I wanted to hurt your father,” she growled softly. He was amazed that she had managed to remain quiet and seemingly calm during the entire time she had spoken. She looked at Draco, tears in her eyes. “I…I know what it is to lose your parents. Harry lost both of his. And I…” She glanced back down at her plate. “I did, too. I… I destroyed both of my parents and I can’t ever get them back.” The tears did fall now. “Eighteen years. Brightest witch of my age,” she shook her head. “I couldn’t even bring my own parents back. They’re just… gone.”
Draco had no words for what she had confessed. Indeed, he hadn’t expected that much from her at all. Though she didn’t know exactly what the younger witch was talking about, but she reached out her hand across the table and touched the Muggle born’s wrist. She didn’t say anything for a long while, like Draco, she, too, was at a loss for words.
“It’s been nearly three years now since I did it,” Hermione said to her food. “Not a day goes by that I don’t wish…” She looked up at Draco, a sort of determination in her eyes. “I love you, Draco,” she said with conviction. “I don’t know why, but I do. The torment you brought to my friends and myself everyday was enough that it literally makes no sense for me to fall so deeply for you, but I did and I do. I love you and I don’t want you to go through what I go through every day. Both of your parents know who you are. All their memories of you remain intact.” She placed her hand on his upper arm, meeting his grey eyes with her own watery, honey ones. “You shouldn’t lose your father and twenty years is such a long time. He defected in the last battle just like you and your mum did. He was wandless and broken and the longer he stays in that prison, the worse he’ll be.” Draco knew those tears would spill at any moment, but he couldn’t find the words to stop them. “You should have your father in your life,” Hermione said.
“So should you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Narcissa straightened up. “Yes, she should,” the older witch agreed. She looked at the Muggle born and her tone became softer. “From what you’re telling us, it sounds like you had placed a Memory Charm on your parents. Am I right, darling?”
Hermione didn’t say anything. Letting her hands fall to her lap, she nodded as the tears began to fall. Draco placed his hand over both of hers for comfort, then, seeing his mother getting up, he stood. “Mum?”
Narcissa regarded Hermione. “I did not know all the things my husband had done to you and your friends. However, he has always prided himself on his extended library and personal knowledge of Charms. It’s why Draco is so good at them. I’ve no doubt he has books on Memory Charms. Together, perhaps the three of us, you, Draco, and myself, can find something to counter the Charm you placed upon your parents.”
Hermione stared at the older witch. “Why would you do that?” she asked as she placed her napkin on her plate and stood.
The Pureblood waved her hand in dismissal. “Why wouldn’t I? Draco’s never brought a girl home before, and as I’ve gotten to know you, I find myself seeing you more and more as a daughter I’d never had.” Walking around the table, the older witch approached Hermione and gave her a hug. “You’ve helped us so much, darling,” she said, pulling away slightly to look at the Muggle born. “It is the least I can do to try to help you find a solution to your problem. You deserve happiness as well.”
Hermione gave the older witch a watery smile. “Thank you, Narcissa. And thank you for the dinner. I apologize for being such a downer.”
“Oh think nothing of it, darling,” the older witch said, waving off the girl’s apology. “I can hardly imagine the horrors you’ve had to endure during the war, including what my husband has put you through. I just hope you don’t hold his crimes against my son and myself?”
“I would never fault the son for the sins of the father,” Hermione replied. “And I certainly can’t fault you.”
Narcissa gave the girl a bright smile and patted her hand affectionately. “Now, come, and I’ll show you the library. Don’t worry, darling, we won’t need to go near the drawing room,” she cooed. “Draco? Come along.”
Draco took a deep breath. A lot had happened in a very short span of time. Hermione had admitted her feelings to him as well as what had happened to her parents. All he had to do was confess his own love for her and he would have her hook, line, and sinker. He walked along her side, resting one hand on the small of her back while holding her hand with the other one.
(II)(II)
Hermione massaged her temples as she read the same passage again. “If I’m reading this correctly, it’s telling me the same thing that I had learned in the Hogwarts library. There isn’t anything I can do,” she said with an exasperated sigh.
Draco looked up from the book he was reading and stood from his chair. Moving across the library to Hermione, he slid in the chair next to her. “May I?” he asked. Not really waiting for an answer, he pulled the book she had been reading closer to him and read the passage. His frown deepened as read through it. “It looks like you would need someone who specializes in the Dark Arts.”
“Don’t you?” she asked him curiously.
He quirked a brow. “No, actually, I don’t,” he said sardonically. “My aunt taught me some, my father taught me more, but if you want a real expert, it’s best to go to the source.” He winked at her as he pushed the book away from him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“I know what you meant,” he said, cutting her off. He sat back and sighed. “You know, Granger, you’re not the only one who’s had it rough. Sure the Dark Arts fascinated me, but reading about them and practicing them are two different things. Small, seemingly harmless things are nothing. I’m sure you remember Crabbe.”
She stared at him, crestfallen. She bit her bottom lip, but didn’t respond.
He stood from his seat. “Have you found anything else?”
She looked down at the books. “I haven’t,” she confessed. “I’ve been through all these books and this one is the only lead I could find.”
He nodded. Tapping the book with his forefinger, he responded, “Then let us hope you can get my father out and he agrees to help. We’ll need to convince him that it will benefit him somehow.”
“What? Like you and I dating?” she asked, looking up at him. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help me restore my parents’ memories,” she said sarcastically. “We both saw how he reacted to the two of us. And like I said before, he and I will never be bosom buddies. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t try to kill me again. Or worse, ruin the relationship you and I have built.”
He looked at her curiously. “I’m sure there’s a way to convince him,” he said. “I managed to convince him to buy the entire Slytherin Quidditch team brooms after I was made Seeker. Your parents’ memories, or hell, our relationship, shouldn’t be that much more difficult.”
Hermione’s eyes widened incredulously. “You either putting your faith in your own manipulation skills or your father’s love for you.”
“Actually, both, love,” he said with a smirk. “I’m his only son.”
She frowned. Being an only child herself, Hermione knew her parents had a habit of giving her what she wanted, but she had never been one to exploit it, at least not much. She sighed. “I don’t know, Draco. I don’t really see him doing much for his son’s girlfriend, regardless of how much you beg.”
“Then let’s not approach him as a dating couple,” he suggested. “If we were to get married…”
Her eyes widened and she stared at him. “Married?” she repeated, thinking she may have misheard him.
He smirked and knelt down before her and looked up at her. “What do you say?” he asked. “You could be a Malfoy, though I know the money and trinkets mean little to you. And the name is rubbish right now, but we could be together. Forever. Just you and me.”
Was he really proposing to her? Now? Hermione stared at him in amazement. “You really want to marry me?”
His smile was genuine as he answered, “More than anything. Look. I know the things that have happened in the past between us. Part of why, actually a major part of why, I teased you so badly in school was because I was afraid. When we first met, I though you looked a bit… common, but you were so smart, so brave. As time went on, I hid my growing attraction for you behind my sneers and words. I didn’t want anyone to know, especially you, because I knew there could never be anything between us. Then the Yule Ball happened…”
“Yes, why did you kiss me that night?” she asked.
He gave a small shrug and replied, “I wanted to. You were so beautiful and you looked so sad. I just… I wanted to see you smile. I wanted to taste your lips. Figured Krum already had, so…”
“He didn’t,” she told him. “No one had ever kissed me before you.”
His heart soared at that comment. He had been her first kiss? How was that even possible? Though his smile had faltered, his eyes twinkled and shined as he gazed up at her. “Marry me, Hermione. Please? You and I… Well, we belong together, don’t you see?”
“What would Harry say?” she asked.
“Who cares?” he replied, his brows furrowing. “Are you really going to let him decide your happiness? He wanted you to marry Weasley and look where that led you. Alone. Weasley could never love you the way I do. Potter’s happy. He married the girl of his dreams. Don’t you deserve the same happiness?”
“I…” she looked down at her hands which had fallen into her lap. “My parents…”
“We’ll get them back,” he promised. “Or at the very least, we’ll exhaust every possible way of doing so. I won’t rest, you know. We will get them back.”
She stared at her hands for a long moment. She knew he was only saying that to make her feel better, but it was still a nice dream. She played with the name in her mind. Hermione Malfoy. She did like the way it flowed in her head. She glanced back up and looked into his stormy eyes. What she saw was love, pure and unbridled. Despite their past, he truly loved her and she could see it there. At some point, he had produced a diamond ring, though she hadn’t seen him move. She glanced at the ring in his hand and her eyes filled with tears. Surrounding the large, princess cut diamond was six smaller gems, alternating between emeralds and… rubies? She looked back up into his eyes and, unable to speak for the emotion caught in her throat, she nodded.
His smile grew wide. Standing up, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the chair, twirling her around. As she descended back down, he kissed her. Her lips were wet with the tears she had shed, but he didn’t care. She was his and would soon be forever. He slipped the ring on her finger and could barely contain his excitement.
“This is a family heirloom, you know,” he told her. “A few generations back, one of my great great great grandmother had a fascination for rubies, so my thrice great grandfather fashioned her this ring to propose to her.”
“Was she a Gryffindor?” she teased.
He shrugged. “Maybe? I’m not sure. Believe it or not, our family haven’t always been picky choosers when it came to mates. It wouldn’t surprise me that someone would marry a Gryffindor.”
She giggled as she leaned into his chest and gazed up in his eyes. “Oh, I hope if we ever have kids, they have your eyes,” she said. Lifting up a hand to run her fingers through his hair, her smile widened. “And your hair. So silky and smooth and soft.”
He grinned. “We should have at least one child with your hair,” he surmised. “And your eyes are beautiful.”
She scoffed, but giggled. “My hair is horrible!” she complained.
He quirked a brow. “Your hair is perfect.” He kissed her lips. “Sexy.” He kissed her cheek. “Wild.” Cupping her face, he bent his head and pushed her face slightly aside so he could press his lips to her neck.
She shuddered and moaned. “Draco,” she whispered breathlessly.
Pulling away, he peered down at her, his eyes darkened with desire. He rested his forehead against hers. “Do you still want to wait?” he asked softly.
Her hands rested on his chest as her eyes moved up to look into his. He could see the struggle within them and opened his mouth to say something when she replied, “Yes. It’s a promised I made to myself.”
Inwardly he groaned, but he made no protest. Straightening up he smiled down at her. “Very well. I respect you for that,” he told her and he truly meant it. It would be hard for the next… however long it took them to actually marry, but he would wait. For her. He would do anything for her.
She looked at him curiously, before turning back to the book. “So, I guess the next step is talking to your father?”
He shook his head. “He won’t listen until we actually are married,” he pointed out. “So there’s no sense…”
“Is that why you want to marry me?” she asked suddenly.
Scrunching his eyebrows, he frowned. “What? No, of course not,” he said. “I want to marry you because I love you. You mean everything to me, Hermione. I just know my father.”
She nodded, slowly. She let the matter drop for now, though she wasn’t entirely satisfied with his answer. She loved him and she knew he loved her as well. Would that be enough though?
(III)(III)
Hermione had come to hate walking into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in particular the Auror Office. She had thought about calling to Grimmauld Place, but she knew Ginny was currently working with the Holyhead Harpies and Harry would more than likely be spending his time in the office. She just hoped Ron wasn’t around.
Approaching Harry’s office, she gave the secretary a smile as she was waved in. Running her hand over her business suit, Hermione took a deep breath.
“That’s a lovely ring, Miss Granger,” the secretary commented as she passed.
Hermione gave the young woman another smile. “Thank you, Miss Avery,” she replied. She took another breath, turned the knob of Harry’s door, and knocking on the door, she entered the office.
The Muggle born didn’t know whether to groan in annoyance or turn around and leave. Harry sat behind his desk with a quill in his hand as though he had just been writing something. Ginny actually sat in one of the guest chairs and Ron sat in the other. All three looked up as the Muggle born walked in.
“Hermione!” Ron greeted as he stood up. He gave her a hopeful smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
Hermione gave Ron a small smile and then looked at Harry. “Could we talk? Alone?” she asked, desperation in her eyes.
The black haired man looked at her in concern. Putting his quill down, he pushed his glasses up. “Is something wrong?” he questioned.
“Hermione, I heard you’re trying to get the Malfoy case reopened,” Ginny stated, staring at her friend with troubled eyes. “Is it true?”
The Muggle born felt like a deer caught in headlights. “I… I can come back,” she said as she started backing out of the room.
Harry stood up then. “No, please stay,” he responded. He glanced at the two red heads. “Could you two give us a moment?”
Ron gave him a nod and started to leave. As he drew closer to Hermione, he looked down at her. “After you’re finished here, perhaps we can talk?” he requested.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about, Ronald,” the Muggle born commented, giving the ginger haired wizard a harsh look.
“But we do,” he insisted. “You and I…”
Hermione’s eyes flashed and she stepped away from him. “It stopped being you and I the moment you accused me of doing something you know I would never do,” she hissed.
Ginny sighed as she moved between the two. “I would like to talk as well,” she said to the brunette. “You’re never around us anymore, Hermione, and you’re one of my best friends. I miss talking to you.” She then grabbed Ron by the sleeve and pulled him along with her.
Hermione stepped out of the way as the two siblings left the office. She missed Ginny as well, but she had a feeling the ginger haired girl would want very little to do with her once she found out what happened. Once they were gone, Hermione closed the office door and, steeling herself, turned around. “Hello, Harry,” she said rather sheepishly.
The Man Who Lived stared at her carefully, taking in her appearance and stance. “Nice ring,” he commented. He then waved a hand at the empty seat to his left. “Have a seat.”
The Muggle born paled, but she moved to sit in the seat he indicated. “Harry, I can explain…” she started.
He sat down himself and looked at her. “Do you love him?” he asked, cutting her off.
She gave him a watery smile. “I do.”
“Then that’s all I need to know,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “You know how I feel about him. And even though I think this may be a mistake, I support you.” He reached across the desk and held out his hands for her, which she grasped. “I love you, Hermione. As much as I hate him, I love you more. I don’t know everything that Ron did when you were with him, but I saw the hurt in your eyes just now. If Malfoy is making you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”
A single tear fell from Hermione’s eyes as she smiled. “Thank you, Harry,” she said taking one of her hands back so she could swipe it across her eyes. “I was afraid I was going to lose you. You’re the closest thing I have to family, especially now. We…” She dropped her hands and looked down at them. “We talk, Draco and I,” she admitted to her hands. “He takes me out to lunch or dinner or somewhere else and we talk. Sometimes it’s about nothing major, but sometimes…” She looked back up at the spectacled man. “He listens to me. Whether I’m laughing or crying, he listens and he’s there to wipe away my tears. He helps me take away the pain. And he’s there in ways no one else has ever been.”
He nodded. “And I’m happy for you,” he told her. “Are you sure this is what you want, though?” He waved a hand to indicate her ring. “I’ve done my research, Hermione, and the Malfoys don’t believe in divorce. Once you marry him, that’s it. You can’t back out of it if things get rough and when Lucius gets out of prison, because I assure you, he will, it will get worse.”
“I know,” she told him. “I don’t believe in divorce either, but I don’t think I have anything to worry about there.”
“You also have to consider this,” he said, not letting her to continue. “I know you hate the titles as much as I, but the fact is that you are one third of the Golden Trio. You’re a war heroine. You’ve been given medals of honor and Galleons for services to the Ministry. Order of Merlin First Class.
“On the flip side, the Malfoys have been disgraced. Their relationships are at the bare minimum. They don’t host parties anymore because no one wants anything to do with them. But the moment you and Draco marry, all of that is going to change, don’t you see? People may not like the Malfoys, but do you honestly believe being married to Draco will stop the media or your friends from being around you?”
“A girl can dream,” she said. At his surprised look, she shrugged. “At least with the media. I’m so tired of them wanting to know everything that’s happening in my life. They already know Ron and I aren’t together anymore and I’m sure they’ll learn about Draco and I being engaged soon enough.”
“Hermione, they are going to be all over you!” Harry snapped. “Imagine the shock. Malfoy’s only son to wed Hermione Granger. You know they are one of the oldest Pureblood families in all of Great Britain? Lucius and Draco weren’t the only ones who had supported Voldemort. Though Abraxas never became a Death Eater, he certainly approved of Voldemort’s message.”
“That’s hearsay,” Hermione protested. “And, regardless, you can’t judge Draco based on what his ancestors have done, and I include Lucius in that.”
“Alright. What of Draco himself?” he asked. “I may have defended him and his mother in court, but that doesn’t change the fact that Draco was a Death Eater.”
“You said it yourself that he didn’t have the stomach for the life,” she pointed out. She sighed. “Look. I’m not here to get into a huge fight or debate about Draco and his family. All I wanted was to inform you that, soon, I will be part of that family.”
He pinched his lips and frowned. Wrinkling his eyebrows, he gave a single nod. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into. Marrying you will do a lot to help their reputation, especially his. You know he visited Headmistress McGonagall recently? Told her he was looking for a job, but never returned.”
She hadn’t know that bit, though she did know he was donating money to the school. “He doesn’t need me to rebuild his reputation. From the sound of it, he’s working to do that on his own.” She shrugged.
He sighed. “Just remember, Hermione,” he said as he rubbed his tired eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “I’m here if you need someone to speak to and… let me tell Ginny? She’s going to flip, but I’d rather be the one to deal with the brunt of her anger.”
She nodded and offered him another smile. “Thank you, Harry.”

Author's Note: That may have been a lot sooner than I had wanted originally, but I do have my reasons. As always, thank you for your reviews and ranking. It tickles me pink everytime I see a new review.
Also, I feel like I should answer Kain. I know all the reasons Lucius should be in prison and Hermione does, too. However, he did defect and according to Rowling, his defection kept him out of prison. I don't know that he got out of prison because he wanted to. In fact, I think it was Dumbledore who had commented that Lucius was probably relieved to be in prison and away from Voldemort? We saw what happened after Lucius got out. He was treated worse than the house elves in a lot of ways. (Not that he didn't deserve it!) Also, I'm sure this chapter doesn't really explain Hermione's reasoning enough, but she does feel guilty still over her own parents. I may add more to it a bit later, but she is lost and the last thing she wants is for the man she loves to feel the same loss she feels.
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Forgiven