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A Pound of Flesh	By : PennilynNovus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 145349 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, and Warner Brothers. I'm not making any money off of this. I'm writing it for my own amusement (and y

Chapter List
- 28
- 29
- 30
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Making Plans

When the knock came on his door Friday just before lunch, Draco almost didn�t answer. He didn�t want to face Hermione again, and he certainly didn�t want to deal with Dearborn, whom he had yet to confront. He bent over the box he was in the process of packing and ignored whomever was at his door.

The knock repeated. �Damien, mate, you there?� It was Tom.

Draco hedged for a brief moment over his box, torn. But then he stepped over the pile of books stacked next to the box and picked his way to the door.

Tom looked gobsmacked at the state of Draco�s flat. �What are you doing?� he asked.

�Packing,� Draco answered in a tone that suggested that much should be obvious.

�Packing,� Tom repeated. �Why are you packing?�

Draco went back to his box and closed the flaps so Tom wouldn�t see the multitude of shrunken books already inside it. It was slow going, shrinking everything so that his belongings would fit into just a few boxes, but it would make his eventual move to his yet-to-be-determined new location much easier. If Tom had been a wizard, Draco would have kept right on packing in front of him, but Tom was a Muggle. Draco paused over his box, considering that fact. His best friend in the whole world was a Muggle, and that should have been weird, but it wasn�t. He was still the same Tom he�d been before Draco regained his memories and remembered he was supposed to scorn all things Muggle.

Be who you want to be, he heard Hermione say. He knew she was right. It would be impossible for him to go back to hating everything to do with Muggles, having lived as one for three years. And it wasn�t as though he had any desire to go back to being the ignorant racist he�d been before. The nights had been long at the manor, and the days were lonely, and he had had plenty of time to consider the folly of believing someone was better than someone else because of their blood. Blood didn�t mean anything; it was all the same when it was spilling out of someone.

Tom�s question hung in the air, unanswered. �Why do people normally pack?� Draco asked.

Tom frowned, not looking in the mood to play the �answer a question with a question� game.

�Are you going somewhere?� he asked.

Draco sat down on his couch and propped his feet up on the box. �Yeah,� he said. �I am.�

Tom cleared a spot on the opposite end of the couch, but didn�t sit. �Where are you going?�

Draco shrugged. �No clue.�

Tom�s frown grew more pronounced. �You don�t know where you�re going?�

�No.�

�So why are you leaving?�

�Because I can�t stay.�

�Why not? Landlord kicking you out?�

�No, he�s not.�

Tom huffed in exasperation. �I�m sorry. What am I missing, here?�

Draco sighed. It would be so much easier to tell Tom what he was missing, instead of lying or telling half-truths. It would be a relief to tell someone what had happened.

After he�d left Hermione at her flat, he�d Apparated to Malfoy Manor, a risky move, he knew, but he�d wanted to see his home again. Except, it wasn�t his anymore. It belonged to Andromeda Tonks, and she�d fixed the gates, and from where he stood outside the gates, he could see she�d also fixed the front door and trimmed the shrubs. At least his family home was in good hands.

He didn�t dare get too close to the house, so he stood at the gates and stared at the house in the distance. When it grew dark, he sat on the drive and drew his coat around him, and examined every small detail of the gates, the hedge, the lawn beyond. He thought about his grave in the cemetery. Draco Malfoy was dead. It was better if he stayed that way.

And that was when Draco reclaimed Damien King�s life. He stood, and with one last look at the house, he Apparated back to London, and went into his flat, and began to pack. He�d gone three years flying under the radar of the Ministry, undetected by all except two witches who�d wandered into a strip club one night, and one raving madman who, it appeared, nobody believed. But he was tempting fate to remain in London any longer, especially with the forbidden temptation of Diagon Alley so close by. So he was going to do what Hermione had suggested. He was going to go to Germany, or France. He was going to hide.

�Tom, I�m leaving.�

�Yeah, I�d gathered that much, thanks. The �why� of the matter, however, I�ve yet to grasp.�

�I got my memories back.�

Tom gaped and sat down on the couch with a thud. �What?�

�I remembered everything, and I have to get out of London. I�m wanted by the police.�

�Wanted by the� You�re a criminal? Is that why you broke up with Jane?�

Draco nodded. �They haven�t been looking for me because they�ve been under the impression that I�m dead, but someone could see me and recognize me.�

�They think you�re dead?� Tom demanded, disbelief creeping into his voice. �Why? Were you in an accident or something? Drive a car into the Thames and they never recovered your body type of thing?�

�Sure. Something like that.�

Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head. �Will you quit pulling my leg and tell me what�s going on?�

Draco sighed. He rubbed his eyes, weary, and said, �Listen, I just have to get out of London. I can�t stay here, and I can�t explain why.�

�Does it have to do with � �

�This isn�t because of Jane,� Draco interrupted. �Entirely. I�m not leaving because of her.�

Tom didn�t say anything for a moment, and then said, �So, you need someplace to go to hide?�

�Yeah. You know somewhere I could go?�

�I think so, but I gotta check something out first. When are you leaving?�

�The sooner, the better. Sunday, at the latest.�

***

Draco strode into the back entrance of the All Male Revue for the last time that afternoon. When he drove away in a taxi with his last paycheck an hour and a half later, he left a crestfallen and dismayed Louie standing at the rear door, watching him go.

Beside Draco in the taxi were four boxes of books, one box of clothing, and one box of personal care items. He�d cleaned out his dressing room, not wanting to leave anything behind just in case one day in the future, Aurors started looking for him. He also wanted to hang on to everything he could; knowing now how much he�d lost, he found himself protective and possessive of everything that belonged to him.

At his building, he carried the boxes two at a time from the waiting taxi and set them just inside the front door in a neat stack. Just as he set the last box on the stack and made ready to Levitate them all up the stairs, the door to his right clicked open. Draco turned to face Dearborn, who glanced at the wand in his hand in weary resignation.

�She�s told you, then?�

�I think the more appropriate question is why didn�t you tell me?� Draco snapped.

�Are you happy to know who you are?�

Draco ground his teeth together and stared levelly at his landlord. �No,� he said at last.

�There you have it, then.�

�I had the right to know!� Draco shouted. �She Obliviated herself. She didn�t remember Obliviating me. But she was trying to find out whoever it was who had done it so she could get the charm reversed. But you � you�ve been just down the stairs from me for three years, and you knew. You should have told me.� With that, Draco flicked his wand at the boxes and sent them hurtling up the stairs with more force than he intended. �I�m giving you my notice. I�ll be out by Sunday at the latest.� He started up the stairs after his boxes.

�Where are you going to go?� Dearborn called after him.

Draco didn�t have an answer to that question yet, so he just continued up the stairs.

***

Sunday morning dawned grey and cold and bleak. Rain pelted the glass windows with a faint rattle. Hermione stood before her Floo, composing herself for the task at hand. She bent, setting the teetering stack of parchment on the tile hearth, and then she knelt. Hermione prodded the cold logs with her wand, and with a muted pop, bright orange flames sprang into existence. She settled on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chin. The fire started small, flickering and guttering, just two or three tongues of fire licking at the dry wood in her Floo.

The only sound in the flat was the sound of the quiet crackling of the fire. Even the ever present sound of honking car horns muffled by her windows seemed absent. It was as if the world had gone away, or was holding its collective breath. Her attention was so fixed to the flames that even the sound of that faded from her ears, and all she could focus on was the roaring sound of silence.

With a soft pop, a bit of bark ignited and sent a small shower of sparks raining down onto the grate. One ember landed too close to the towering stack of papers beside Hermione on the hearth, and she leaned over and blew out the red, glowing spark. She wasn�t ready just yet.

Her face grew warm, then hot, from the intensity of the fire as it grew, and Hermione blinked her dry eyes, wincing at the sticky grittiness clinging at the corners of her eyelids. It was hard not to stare; the flames were soothing in a hypnotic sort of way. It reminded her of sitting here with Draco, leaning back against his chest and feeling the safe haven of his arms closing around her.

A log settled on the fire, sending a flurry of sparks drifting up and away in a curl of smoke. With a deep breath, Hermione turned to the stack of papers. She could do this. She had to do this, for Draco�s sake. There could be no evidence remaining. With this in mind, she took another reassuring breath and reached for the first bit of parchment on the stack, which happened to be a page from Dr. Thomas�s lengthy file.

Subject Damien King appears to be suffering from some rare, uncharacterized form of amnesia. The disorder bears characteristics of Retrograde Post-Traumatic Amnesia, but also resembles Dissociative Amnesia. King is unable to recall events prior to the evening of June 13th, 1998, but showed no physical trauma when presented at hospital�

After reading the psychiatrist�s notes one more time, she fed the file page by page into the flames. The first piece of paper hovered over the fire for a moment, caught in the updraft, before a whip of flame caught hold and pulled it down. The page curled in at the edges, turning brown and then a silky, inky black. In the space of two breaths, the paper was nothing but charred ash, breaking apart over the logs and sifting down into the grate.

The copied pages of Draco�s journals were the next to go onto the fire. Hermione read each page before she burned it. Three years of Draco�s life passed before her eyes � his frustrations with his lack of identity and memories, his anger at the woman who had left him behind, his unease with the brief flashes of recall that left him certain he was losing his mind. But there were also triumphs scrawled down in his neat penmanship � passing his GCSEs, befriending Tom, brief romances that always ended too soon. What had he written since she�d copied his journals so long ago? She surrendered the last page to the fire, the one where Draco wrote of his impending date with Jane, the woman who was like nobody he�d ever met before, and she bowed her head for a long moment.

When she was ready, Hermione shifted positions, parts of her lower body having gone numb during the lengthy process of rereading Draco�s journals. She turned her attention again to the stack of parchment, now reduced to just a quarter of its original size. Draco�s Ministry file and a few random scraps of parchment were all that remained.

With a half-hearted glance, Hermione crumpled her to-do list and the list of conclusions she�d reached during her two month tenure as Draco Malfoy�s girlfriend and tossed them into the fire.

Next on the stack were the pictures. Here, Hermione paused and turned her face away from the fire, sucking down several gasps of cool air. She did not want to burn the pictures of her with Draco, but the photos were just as damning to her as they were to him. There was no guarantee that these would not be found, and so they had to be destroyed. She flipped through the four enlarged copies of the photo booth pictures, trailing her fingers down the side of Draco�s smiling face. She gulped down a sob and extended the photos toward the flames, her arm shaking.

Just as the flames reached up for the photos, she jerked them back. She couldn�t do it. Not yet. She�d burn them last.

With a relieved sigh, she set the photos to the side and reached for the Ministry�s file on Draco. As with everything else, she read each page, the affidavit from Harry, and the written transcripts of Bellatrix Lestrange and Alecto Carrow�s memories from the night Voldemort attempted to kill Draco. As she surrendered the pages to the fire, Hermione thought about Pansy Parkinson, and the other families of the convicted Death Eaters who had been spared no mercy. She remembered her conversation with Susan from so long ago, the day Mundungus Fletcher had spotted Draco, how Susan theorized that the Ministry might have shown Draco more mercy than the average Death Eater.

She pondered the idea, recalling the numerous evenings she�d spent reading law books, searching for a solid reason the Wizengamot should pardon Draco, and being unable to find anything but overwhelming evidence of the Ministry�s unforgiving stance on Voldemort�s followers.

As the last page of the file went up in smoke, Hermione frowned. She doubted very much the Ministry would grant Draco any more clemency than any of the other Death Eaters they�d prosecuted.

But perhaps they�d be more charitable to a dead man.

�Oh,� Hermione breathed, the idea taking shape in her head. She stared at the ashy remains of months of research and spying, and she could not believe she�d never thought of it before. As the idea grew in scope and tangibility, Hermione leapt to her feet and began to pace.

She theorized she could get away with claiming her interest in Draco�s situation had been spawned by the incident with Dung two months prior. She figured she could gain some sympathy if she was allowed to show Bellatrix and Alecto Carrow�s memories of Draco�s torture and death. But the key to her whole defense would hinge on one man�s testimony.

Hermione extinguished the fire and grabbed her cloak on the way out the door. She just hoped Ginny was right about the quality of Harry�s forgiveness.

***

The Potters were just settling in for a late brunch when Hermione arrived. Still in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, Harry opened the door.

�Hermione,� Harry said, sounding as confused as he did surprised. �We weren�t expecting you until later.�

�I know. I�m sorry,� Hermione said. �I thought I�d take up Ginny�s offer and pop over for a spot of brunch. I hope that�s alright.�

�Of course!� Harry said, swinging the door open wider to allow Hermione entrance. From further inside the large flat, Teddy�s shrieking laughter could be heard.

Ginny was in the eat-in kitchen, attempting to strap Teddy into his booster seat at the table. Hermione�s appearance at the door to the kitchen was enough to distract the squirming toddler long enough that Ginny was able to secure the straps before he realized what was happening.

�Perfect timing,� Ginny commented, pushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

�Glad I could help,� Hermione returned.

In short order, they were seated at the table, and Harry piled Hermione�s plate with a healthy serving of eggs, ham and pastries.

Ginny added a few pieces of fruit, saying, �I don�t care if I do sound like my mother, but you�re too thin.�

Hermione accepted without argument or complaint, which was all it took to arouse Ginny�s suspicions.

�So, Hermione,� she began in a serene, unassuming tone, �what made you change your mind about joining us this morning?�

�Oh, I just had something I wanted to talk to you and Harry about.�

�Oh?� Harry said. �What about?�

�Little teakettles have big spouts,� Hermione replied, nodding toward Teddy, who was attempting to eat some mushy cereal with a lime-green spoon.

Harry�s left eyebrow jumped a tick, and he glanced at Ginny, a question obvious on his face. She shrugged, though when he grew busy keeping Teddy from flinging his cereal at the ceiling, she turned her shrewd gaze toward Hermione. Draco? she mouthed.

Hermione paused a beat, and then inclined her head once. Ginny returned the nod, the corner of her mouth turning up.

Later, after the brunch dishes were cleared from the table and washing in the sink, Hermione followed Ginny and Harry into the adjoining sitting room, which was scattered with books, stuffed animals, and building blocks. Teddy ran ahead and scooped up a book from the floor, and then brought it over to where Hermione had seated herself on the couch.

�Aun� Minnie, read?� he asked, scaling the sofa and plopping down in her lap. His nose morphed into a miniature duplicate of her own.

�Teddy!� she exclaimed in mock surprise. She clapped a hand over her face and groped as if searching for her nose. �You stole my nose! You better give it back!� Teddy laughed in delight as Hermione reached for his own nose and tugged on it.

�Nope. Mine now.� The toddler ducked his head and lunged across the sofa onto Harry�s lap.

�Harry!� Hermione protested. �Teddy stole my nose.�

Harry turned his godson and examined his face. �So he did,� he commented. �Looks good on him.�

Giggling, Teddy crawled back into Hermione�s lap and pretended to pull off his nose and return it to her face. �Story?� he asked hopefully, offering the book to Hermione once more. She glanced down.

�Beedle the Bard again?� she asked.

�Babby Rabby,� Teddy said, settling onto her lap and flipping open to the tale of Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump.

After glancing up at Harry, who looked inquisitive, and Ginny, who looked smug, Hermione began to read aloud. Halfway through the story, Teddy�s head lolled on her shoulder, and his hair shifted to its natural sandy brown. His mouth fell open in a quiet snore, and Ginny stood to relieve Hermione of the sleeping toddler.

�I�m just going to put Teddy to bed for a kip,� Ginny said.

�Hurry back,� Harry said, standing to give his godson an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

Teddy shifted in his sleep, burying his head in the cradle of Ginny�s neck. Harry kissed his wife�s cheek and Hermione felt her throat tighten. They made such a happy picture. She wanted that for herself, but the child in her mind had beautiful blond curls.

�I�ll be back in a little bit,� Ginny said, shooting Hermione a significant look as she left the room.

Harry knelt on the floor and began to gather up Teddy�s discarded building blocks, and Hermione lowered herself to help him. They worked in companionable silence as Harry waited for her to begin and Hermione worked out just how she was going to broach the subject.

�I looked in my trunk,� Hermione blurted, startling herself.

Harry paused, three square blocks in his hand. He looked surprised. �Did you really?�

�Last weekend. Well, I opened it to get my Shield Robes for the reenactment and poked around a bit, but I didn�t get around to sorting through it until last weekend,� she continued, finding it impossible to stop the words leaving her mouth.

Harry tossed the building blocks into the nearby toy bin and then turned his attention to her. �How was it?�

�It was like you said: there was more stuff in there that I wanted to remember than I wanted to forget.� She paused, finding it difficult to tell him the rest.

�Well, that�s good news,� Harry said with a smile. �I�m glad that you � �

�I need to tell you something,� Hermione interrupted, ducking her head as Harry�s eyes, full of concern, swept across her face.

�Alright,� he said after a measured moment of silence.

�I found another victim of one of my Memory Charms.�

Harry sounded confused as he asked, �In your trunk?�

Hermione gave a humorless laugh and looked up at Harry. �Sort of. I�d left myself a note for when the war was over, telling me where to find him.�

Harry�s brow wrinkled in confusion. �You�d left yourself a note � what do you mean, did you forget�?� He blinked. �You charmed yourself to forget, right?�

Hermione nodded. �For his protection. I wiped his memories, hid him in London, and then erased the encounter from my mind in case I was captured. The memories were in a vault at Gringotts.�

�Who was so important that you had to do all that?�

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to ready herself for his reaction. Harry�s expression grew even graver as he observed her preparing herself.

�Hermione, who is it?�

�Draco Malfoy.�

For his part, Harry didn�t react at all the way Hermione had feared he might. He didn�t turn red in the face or jump to his feet, yelling obscenities. Instead he blinked several times, his eyes going unfocused as he stared at the remaining pile of building blocks on the floor between them. She watched as he mouthed Draco�s name, shaking his head in bewilderment.

�But Voldemort killed him. It was right there in Bellatrix�s head,� Harry denied.

�Apparently he didn�t, because Draco was very much alive when I Obliviated him.�

�When did you�� Harry began, then stopped, seeming to answer his own question. �That night at Malfoy Manor? You found him at Malfoy Manor?�

Hermione nodded once, trying to gauge Harry�s reaction, but his face had gone stony.

�Why didn�t you tell me or Ron?� he asked, his voice thick with simmering anger.

�Harry, believe me, I wish I could have. It would have made everything so much easier for both of us. But if you two had known, I would have had to Obliviate you, too. It was hard enough doing it to him. I can�t imagine having to do it to my best friends. Besides, he was afraid of what anyone else would do if they knew he was alive. Anyone else would have taken him to Azkaban.�

�Which is where he belongs!� Harry snapped.

�No, it isn�t, and you know it. I�ve read your testimony in his file. You know he was coerced into doing what he did. And you know that Dumbledore was ready to forgive everything he�d done and hide him.�

Harry glowered at her for a moment before glaring daggers at the floor, and she knew he was annoyed that she�d brought Dumbledore�s name into the mix. He chucked a few more of Teddy�s blocks into the toy bin with more force than was necessary, refusing to meet her eyes, and then he grew still.

�So he�s alive after all,� he said. He glanced up, his face dark, eyes serious. �And you found him, then?�

She nodded, her eyes never leaving Harry�s face.

�And?� he prodded.

�You know that bloke I�ve been dating?�

Harry stared at her. �That isn�t funny.�

�I�m serious.�

Harry frowned at her, disappointed. �What are you doing? Why are you lying to me like this? You�ve been dating that man for almost two months, Hermione. You just told me you found Draco because of a note you found in your trunk last week.�

�Harry, I�m not lying.� Hermione dug deep for the courage to continue. �I found him before I opened my trunk. I ran into him at a pub, and I was mad at Ron, and feeling wretched because you and Ginny were so happy and I was so miserable, and I wanted to make him pay for all those years of insulting me at Hogwarts�� She trailed off, finding it harder and harder to look at Harry, who stared at her in utter disbelief.

�Okay,� Harry began, his hard gaze unwavering. �So, let me see if I�ve got this straight. You came across Draco in a pub, and he had no idea who you were because of the charm, and you decided to get a little revenge. And then, what � you thought it might be fun to start shagging Draco Malfoy for kicks? Have you lost your mind?�

Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself, but Harry wasn�t finished. He rose to his feet and began to pace, kicking toys out of his way. �No, don�t answer that. Apparently you have if you thought it would be a good idea to date Draco Malfoy.� She stood and backed away to avoid being run over by his frenzied pacing. �What in Merlin�s name possessed you � and what on earth happened to him that he would date you? He hates you!�

Hermione couldn�t dispute that statement.

�How did this happen? Hermione, this is insane. This is nothing like you.�

�I didn�t mean for it to happen like this. I swear. I was trying to figure out who had charmed him, and then it just sort of happened��

�What?� Harry stopped pacing, coming to a stop in front of her. �What sort of happened?�

�I fell in love with him.�

Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead.

�And then I found out I was the one who had Obliviated him. So I reversed it.�

Taking a deep breath, Harry appeared to struggle to calm himself. �And he remembered who you were, and that�s why you broke up, and why he�s gone now. He is gone, isn�t he?�

Hermione nodded. He would be, soon, she was sure.

�Where?�

�I don�t know,� she answered. �He told me he was going into hiding and I let him go.�

�Your job!� Harry exclaimed, his hair standing on end as he ran one hand through it. �You could lose your job if anyone knew you were dating Draco Malfoy!�

�Do you think I never considered that?� Hermione shot back.

�Then what in Merlin�s name possessed you?� Harry asked again, this time looking at her for an answer.

�It was impossible not to love him. I tried, Harry � so hard � not to love him. But he was so good to me, so different from how he used to be. He loved me, too. And then the look on his face when I reversed the charm, like he couldn�t believe I�d betray him like that�� she exhaled, her chest aching. She tried to take a deep breath in preparation of asking Harry for a monumental favor, but her breath caught in a hiccupping sob.

Harry looked torn between the desire the shake her or comfort her. Finally with a half-growl of frustration, he gathered her into a tight hug. She sniffled into his shoulder, trying not to cry.

�I�m sorry that you were hurt,� Harry began, �but you must have known that it couldn�t end well when you started up with him.�

�I knew,� she said, her reply muffled in Harry�s t-shirt. �But it was impossible to stop it. You can�t control who your heart wants. It isn�t like I didn�t try to stay away. I really did.�

Harry grunted and patted her back.

It wasn�t until Hermione heard Ginny reenter the room behind her that she plucked up her courage to make her request. �Harry, I know this is a lot to ask of you,� she said, �but I need your help.�

***

Full of nervous agitation, Hermione came to a stop outside Draco�s building. She knew she shouldn�t be there, but her feet had chosen her path as she�d wandered without aim. She�d spent the better part of the afternoon pacing through London, deep in thought, constructing her plan. It was still a long shot at best, and she shouldn�t tell Draco and get his hopes up, but his future was at stake, and she was done hiding things from him.

Hermione looked up at the front of the building, and the rows of windows. Draco�s had always stood out with the deep green curtains.

The curtains were gone.

�Oh, no,� she whispered. �No.�

Knowing she was too late, she ran through the front door and ascended the stairs two at a time, hoping against hope that he was still there. She came to a stop outside Draco�s door, which was ajar. She closed her eyes and swallowed, and then pushed the door open.

The flat was bare, empty, the furniture and curtains and shelves and shelves of books gone.

Hermione staggered over the threshold, feeling feverish and cold at the same time. She�d known he was going to run; he�d told her as much. She just hadn�t thought it would happen so soon. She�d hoped he�d tell her where he was going to go. She stepped further into the flat, pausing in the spot the sofa had occupied, her eyes going unfocused for a moment as she remembered cozy Sunday afternoons spent on the sofa with Draco.

She pulled her eyes back into focus, scanning the empty shelves. There was no sign at all of the vibrant man who had once filled those shelves with anything and everything he could find that felt the slightest bit familiar: books, music, objects and pictures that sparked just a hint of memory.

She trailed her hand along the wall as she walked down the hallway to the bedroom. Here, too, the room looked large and barren without any of the objects in it that had given it life. Hermione felt her eyes sting with tears.

Draco was gone.

She turned and stumbled out of the bedroom, feeling her way down the hall as tears clouded her vision. She pulled up short in the main room as she noticed, for the first time, a box sitting on the floor by the front door. She bent and pulled back the flaps of the box, and sank to her knees.

Inside the box was an assortment of Draco�s belongings: a t-shirt Hermione slept in, the frame that had held one of the enlarged pictures from the photo booth. The picture was gone. There were a handful of books, as well: Hermione�s copy of The Invisible Man and History of Magic by Eliphas Levi. And at the bottom of the box was the peeled and sanded hawthorn twig. It was not what she�d been expecting to find. When she�d seen the box, she�d assumed he�d packed up all of her left-behind belongings and left them. But he�d taken the clothes she�d left in his bedroom, the shampoo he�d bought for her to use when she stayed the night, the picture from the photo booth.

She knew the box was intended for her, and so she gathered it in her arms, and then stood by the door, trying to soak up any feeling of Draco that might remain. She drew in a deep breath of his comforting scent. Then with a shuddering breath, she eased out of the flat and shut the door behind her.

Author's Note: The people on my live journal already know this, but I've finished the rough drafts of the remaining chapter and epilogue! Which means quick updates, and I mean it this time. I plan to post Ch. 30 in a week or less from now, and the epilogue in 12-14 days.

If you haven't joined the yahoo! group or added me to your friends' list on LJ, now is a good time to do it. Once the story is finished, I'll be posting the alternate ending to Ch. 30 as well as the alternate epilogue at both of those locations. I'll also be sharing the mix of music I made to go with this story, which is all songs I listened to as I wrote, or music that would be playing during certain scenes within the story.

What do you think? Leave me a review, and maybe I'll post faster.

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A Pound of Flesh