Happy weekend, my loves, and happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate! And a special thanks to those of you who've reminded me to update, I almost forgot due to it being the holiday season and everything. Happy reading.

Astoria in ten chapters. I'm just saying.

x Noelle

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Erases memory.

And while Draco normally took pleasure in watching the Weasel squirm, he felt nothing along those lines now. Harry's eyes widened as he looked between them.

"I - " Ron seemed unable to find the right words to say. "It's not - I mean..."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You know I could easily use Legilimency on you to find out the truth."

"Merlin, you're such a bloody prick!"

"Then answer my question."

"Malfoy," Harry intervened, looking rather uncomfortable now. "Stop pushing him. Ron wouldn't do such a thing, right, mate?"

But the moment he met Ron's gaze, the redhead instantly broke down. "Fine, I did it!" He blurted, sounding truly distressed now, his face the same shade of red that his hair was. "It was me, alright? I was the one who used Obliviate on Hermione!"

And there it was.

A heavy silence followed Ron's words. Draco dug his nails in his palms to stop himself from punching Ron in the face, even though he desperately wanted to. But he did agree not to hurt Ron. Sodding Malfoys and their bloody code of honour.

"You what?" Harry was the first to break the silence.

"I used Obliviate on Hermione," Ron muttered, looking rather shamefaced now. "I was some distance away when she fell off your broom, and I saw her being caught by one of the Death-Eaters far below - "

"Wait," Draco interrupted. "Who was the Death-Eater?"

"Like I can remember - "

"Think, Weasel!"

Ron frowned as he tried to remember. "Male, definitely. Blond – not your father," he added, when Draco visibly flinched. "I would remember your bloody father anywhere. It wasn't your father."

"Good enough." Based on Ron's sparse description, he had a faint inkling it was Yaxley. "Carry on."

Ron scowled at Draco's order. "So, yeah, I saw Hermione being captured and I tried to chase after the Death-Eater, I really did. But when I couldn't catch up, I just erased her memories."

"I don't understand," Harry shook his head, looking at Ron with faint hostility, as if he couldn't recognised his friend anymore. "Why, Ron? Why would you do that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No," Draco snarked, unable to help himself. It was his nature to be a prick, even though he knew why Ron had done it. It was the same reason that Blaise and Pansy had erased the memories of the Order members several months ago.

"I panicked, alright?" Ron sighed, passing a frustrated hand through his hair. "I panicked, and I figured if Hermione didn't know anything, maybe she wouldn't be tortured for information. So even if they used Legilimency on her, they wouldn't find out a thing - "

"Hold on a second," Draco's voice was sharp, and he stared at Ron intently. "Did you Obliviate her memories to save her or to save yourself and the rest of the bloody Order?"

The beat of hesitation from Ron's end was answer enough.

The blood was pounding in Draco's ears and a feral growl ripped past his throat as he lunged forward; ready to pummel the bloody Weasel to the ground. There wasn't any semblance of rationality left; just pure, avenging fury coursing through his veins, the same kind he felt whenever he faced his father after the war.

But Harry clamped down on Draco's shoulders and dragged him away. "Malfoy, you promised Hermione that you wouldn't do anything. Let's just talk this through."

"Fine." Draco shrugged him away and glared daggers at Ron, whose posture was tense as though bracing himself for a fight.

Harry sighed. "Ron, please explain yourself."

Ron nodded, looking more subdued now. "It was for both of those reasons. I already said that I didn't want Hermione to be tortured for information, but Obliviating her memories would prevent You-Know-Who from finding out anything about the Order. I kept the Order safe. Do you even know how many more of us would've been killed if You-Know-Who had found our hideouts?"

Harry hesitated. "Well, it does make sense," he conceded at last, before glancing at Draco. "Ron was just doing it for the greater good."

"Yes - except he did a shite job at it," Draco said coldly. "You don't use Obliviate unless you are fully confident in it, Weasel. You erased her memories so poorly that if the Death-Eaters used Legilimency on her, they could still recover some parts of her memory. But it wasn't good enough for them, so they used the Cruciatus curse on her."

Ron paled. "What?"

"It's true," Harry said, with another sigh. "Andromeda told me that Hermione was tortured for the past three years."

"I...I didn't realise! I thought I was keeping her safe, I - " Ron's eyes glistened and, for a moment, Draco felt a pang of sympathy for him. A faint one, because it was honestly uncomfortable to watch the Weasel cry.

"We all make mistakes, Weasel," Draco said flatly. "But since your purpose of Obliviating Hermione's memories was to make her forget everything about the Order, you can't possibly get angry or hold a grudge against her for forgetting everything about it, or forgetting everything about you."

"Did she? Did she really forget about me?" There was something so painfully broken in Ron's voice that Draco found himself unable to think of a snarky reply.

"Not completely," he said instead.

But when Ron's eyes flickered with a newfound surge of hope, Draco hastily dragged his eyes away and unlocked the doors, striding out of the balcony without a backward glance. It was just a flicker of hope - but he wasn't sure if Ginny was right about Ron no longer having feelings for Hermione; or if, with the new revelation, Ron now thought they could start over.

Merlin, the thought of the latter possibility fucking hurt.

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Hermione sighed. This evening had been most tedious. After Draco, Harry and Ron had left, Ginny had introduced her to the rest of the D.A. She remembered some faces, like the Patil twins, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, but the rest were all a blur to her.

She was in the middle of a group huddle and feeling terribly claustrophobic when Theo had barged his way through the group. "You're all sickening her with your over-affectionate behaviour," was his more than blunt remark, "so kindly back off."

Hermione could barely keep her face straight as he extracted her from the crowd, and the moment she was away from her old friends, she threw a grateful arm around Theo. "Thank you. I really did think I was about to suffocate in there."

"I know. Why you Gryffindors thrive so much on affectionate behaviour I'll never know."

"I believe some of them were from the other houses too. There's Terry and Padma over there, and they're from Ravenclaw. Ernie and Hannah are from Hufflepuff."

Theo made a disgusted sound and refused to mingle after that. They sat near to Blaise and Pansy, who were thrilled to be reunited with their fellow Slytherins, Tracey and Daphne.

But Hermione wasn't blind to the way the rest of the D.A. members ignored the three Slytherins. She caught the suspicious looks in between the polite smiles. Only Neville and Luna seemed hardly bothered and eventually came to sit with them. Luna's strange anecdotes about magical creatures was more than sufficient to entertain, while Neville surprised them when he asked if he could join them on their next mission.

"Are you sure, Longbottom?" Theo stared at him dubiously. "With a surname like yours, you're bound to get mocked by Draco and me twenty-four seven."

Hermione elbowed Theo and smiled graciously at Neville. "Don't listen to him. It would be great to have you."

Neville looked pleased. "Thanks. It'd be great to be on the team."

But when Neville and Luna left to get more food, Theo turned to Hermione. "We're not actually going to let him into 17-65, are we?"

"We'll see," she replied honestly. "I know that Neville's a good sort and we can trust him, but Draco and the others should have a say in this too."

Theo was appeased by her answer, which wasn't a surprise because Hermione knew that he held Draco in high regard. Despite what Draco said about the five of them having an equal share in 17-65, the truth was that Theo, Blaise and Pansy would follow Draco's commands to the ends of the earth. Hermione thought that their loyalty was very admirable.

She was about to continue talking to Theo when the doors of the balcony flew open. Draco strode out, his jaw clenched and grey eyes stormy. His gaze swept across the room in search for someone – her. And when he finally caught a glimpse of her, he looked almost relieved. But when Ginny went up to return him his wand, his posture grew rigid again. After a short exchange with Ginny, he left the room altogether.

That was her cue. Hermione waved a quick goodbye to the D.A. members and ran out after him. Draco was already halfway down the stairs, and her chest tightened when she saw him. He cut a forlorn figure as he leaned against the banisters, his head tilted down and shoulders hunched.

"Draco!"

His head snapped up at her voice, and his eyebrows rose. "Merlin, Granger, you didn't need to come after me. Nor did the rest of you."

Hermione looked over her shoulder, only to realise that the three Slytherins and Luna were also descending the stairs behind her. She smiled at them before turning back to Draco. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay."

He opened his mouth to reply, but a familiar voice cut through the hallway.

"Malfoy!" Ron rushed out of the room, with Harry and Ginny trailing after him. He came to a halt in front of Hermione and shot her an apologetic smile. "Hey, Hermione. Sorry about earlier."

She smiled and shook her head. "It's alright, Ron."

He hesitated and looked like he wanted to say something, but turned to Draco instead. "There's something I need to discuss with you. In private," he added, ignoring the suspicious looks from the other Slytherins."

Draco stared at Hermione for a moment, before he reluctantly acceded. "Fine," he said, and jerked his head to a small alcove some distance away. Once they were alone, he cast a Muffliato and turned to Ron. "What do you want, Weasel?"

Ron rolled his eyes, but didn't start another heated argument. "Listen, could you not tell Hermione about what we talked about earlier?"

"I'm currently thinking of seventy-seven – no, seventy-eight – different ways to hex you right now. So before I do, you'd better come up with a brilliant explanation."

"You're such a wank - "

"Seventy-nine."

"I would like to explain everything to Hermione at my own time, alright?" Ron snapped in frustration, "I want to properly apologise for what I did. I owe her at least this much."

Draco bit down hard on his tongue to prevent another scathing retort. "Fine," he muttered at last, and narrowed his eyes at Ron. "But if you somehow manage to turn the tables and blame her for not being able to remember you, I will hex you with those eighty ways I just thought of."

"You said seventy-nine earlier."

"What can I say? I'm fucking imaginative."

He turned to leave, but Ron stopped him. "Just tell me one thing, Malfoy." The look on the redhead's face was serious. "How much does she mean to you?"

"Everything."

The answer came in a heartbeat, no hesitations, no extraneous thoughts required. It stunned Ron into speechlessness, but even then, Draco thought that his answer had not sufficed. 'Everything' was just a quantifier, but when it came to Hermione Granger, there were simply no words to describe how he truly felt about her.

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Having breakfast with Andromeda was one of Hermione's favourite things to do.

Even though Draco's insomnia had lessened marginally, he still slept at erratic hours. The three Slytherins usually slept in late, while Luna occasionally had to run errands for the Order. But Hermione was a morning person - even though her hair often looked like a 'rat's nest' (Draco's kind words) in the morning - and she enjoyed making breakfast with Andromeda, feeding Teddy and watching Grus the house-elf with fascination.

Hermione found Andromeda incredibly easy to talk to. Apart from Draco, Andromeda was the only one who fully understood her, and she treated the older woman like her own mother.

She couldn't help it; the feeling was far too familiar, and she couldn't remember her own mother. Or her own father. She'd asked Draco about it before, but he'd never met her own parents, let alone know what had happened to them.

It was Andromeda who had the answer. Hermione had put off asking about her parents for a long time, because a part of her was terrified to find out that they were dead. But now she was ready to know.

"Harry told me that you used Obliviate on them," Andromeda explained, as the two of them nursed hot mugs of tea at the table that morning. "You erased all their memories of you."

Hermione felt her breath catch. A faint wave of sadness surged through her, but more than anything, she thought it was poetic justice - that she'd erased their memories and now she couldn't remember anything about them.

She blinked away the tears that sprung to her eyes. She couldn't remember them, but they were her family. It felt like she was missing a piece. "Are they safe?"

Andromeda reached across the table to take Hermione's hands. "After Harry told me that, I sent Grus to search for them. You know how clever elves are; they can apparate anywhere in the world. We found them in Australia - their names are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins. I send Grus to check up on them on a monthly basis, and yes, they are safe."

Safe. At a time like this, that was the only thing that mattered.

Hermione sighed in relief, a tiny smile flitting across her lips as she looked over at Grus. Andromeda treated the house-elf with nothing but respect, and Grus was now seated at the table, hastily turning Teddy's face back to its original shape when the little Metamorphmagus produced a duck-bill shaped mouth.

Hermione laughed at Teddy's antics and held out a hand to the house-elf. "Thank you, Grus," she murmured, and smiled when he took her hand. "I'm so grateful for what you did."

"Grus is happy to help," the house-elf responded cheerfully, before panicking again when Teddy hiccupped and produced a mop of vibrant violet curls. Hermione thought it was adorable how much the house-elf cared for Teddy. Andromeda had told her that Grus was a freed house-elf, but he was entirely committed to serving Andromeda and Teddy.

"What will you do about your parents, Hermione?" Andromeda asked.

The brunette shrugged. "I do love them," she hummed in agreement, a thoughtful frown slipping onto her face. "And I do want them to be safe. But if Wendell and Monica Wilkins are happy being who they are, then who am I to destroy their happiness by presenting to them a daughter who can't remember them at all?"

Andromeda's eyes softened. "Your parents will love you regardless. It didn't stop Draco; it doesn't stop me. And it would never stop them."

Hermione smiled gratefully and nodded. She opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden knock on the door made them turn around.

"I'll get it," she told the older witch, and quickly headed out of the kitchen. But the person standing on the front porch made her eyes widen in surprise. "Ron?"

"Hi, 'Mione." The redhead scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Morning."

She smiled, but she couldn't help feeling nervous. Harry had set her at ease right away, but Ron's fiery temper had alarmed her the night before. "It's great to see you, Ron," she said warmly, and opened the door wider. "Come in."

Ron stepped inside, and ran a hand through his hair as he looked around. "So...you live here with Andromeda?"

"Yes. So does Draco and the other Slytherins. And Luna."

"Luna?" He chuckled and shook his head, following her into the kitchen. "Merlin, it's a bloody full house. I can see why Ginny and Harry like to come here often. Hi, Andromeda," he greeted, nodding politely at the older witch, who was still seated at the table.

Andromeda smiled, and rose to pour him a cup of tea. "You're invited to come here anytime you like, Ronald. Although Theo and Draco might take some getting used to."

"I highly doubt it," Ron muttered under his breath and turned to Hermione. "Look, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"I should go." Andromeda stood from the table and reached for Teddy along the way. "Hermione, tell Draco that I'm visiting McGonagall. Come along, Grus."

Once they were alone, Ron turned back to Hermione. She was picking at a frayed thread on her jumper, but looked up when he said her name. "So, Hermione..." He cleared his throat, suddenly at a lost for words. Looking at his best friend had never been so painful before. But now that he knew what he'd done, it was all he could think of. He would never be able to make it up to her. He swallowed hard. "How've you been?" he asked at last.

She smiled at him. "I've been well. This place is great, and I love staying here. What about you?"

Ron looked rather thrown off by her cordial but faint detachment. "I'm good. Been fighting a lot, with Neville and the rest of the Order, mostly, but - " He stopped abruptly, exhaling in slight frustration. "Okay, this is killing me so I have to ask - are things always going to be this awkward between us?"

She shook her head fervently. " Merlin, no! But it'll definitely take some getting used to. I was the same way with Harry when I first met him, but we're getting to know each other all over again."

"So that's it then," Ron said, with a sigh. "We're never going to be the same way we once were?"

"We will be, eventually."

"I don't think so."

"You are being incredibly pessimistic, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said, glaring at him half-heartedly. "Now stop looking so glum and drink your tea. Do you want some breakfast?"

Ron's lips quirked. "Now this sounds rather familiar."

"What is?"

"You. Ordering me around."

"I used to order you around?" she repeated in disbelief, as she cracked two eggs onto the frying pan. She never used a wand to cook, despite all the cooking spells that Andromeda had taught her. She preferred to do it the Muggle way instead.

"You used to order everyone around. Merlin, you were bossy as anything."

Hermione huffed in indignation. "Well, I'm not bossy now," she said defensively, handing him a buttery scone, which he eagerly grabbed as though he hadn't seen food in days.