Draco

It's over. Everything's over. The Dark Lord has been destroyed, and the chaos has settled down. Mother, Father, and I hover uncertainly at a corner of the Great Hall, our eyes upon the grieving families. 

Bodies are laid out all across the hall, and I try not to look at them. Mother clings to my arm, as if not sure I'm really here or not. Father's grip on my shoulder is so tight that it hurts. I don't pull away, not even when Blaise and Goyle approach us. 

"Where's Theo?" I ask, my voice turning fearful.

"He's fine- somewhere outside I think," Goyle replies. 

Blaise gives me a tired smile, and I try and return it. Goyle scratches his head in confusion, as if not sure he should be here. Blaise and Goyle part to reveal a tiny couple, their eyes roaming around the Great Hall hopefully.

My stomach sinks, and the grief weighs me down again. These are Crabbe's parents. 

"We've been looking for Vincent all over!" his mother says, her eyes shining with optimism. "Do you think he would be outside with the Nott boy, dear?"

I sigh, and break free from my parent's holds. With a look at Goyle, I understand that the couple doesn't know the news yet. 

"He-" I start. My voice gets stuck in my throat. "He didn't survive the fire."

Crabbe's father's face falls, in a defeated acceptance. His mother however, lets out a screech of denial. 

"What do you mean, 'didn't survive the fire?'" she sobs. 

"He died," I say, ignoring the way my voice scratches against my throat. "Goyle and I were lucky to get out of The Room of Hidden Things alive, after the Fiend Fire that Crabbe cast. Potter saved us."

They both are crying, and I flinch at the glare that Crabbe's mother is giving me. 

"It's your fault!" she screeches angrily, lunging at me. 

Her husband holds her back, his eyes bloodshot. 

"I didn't mean to," I say, horrified, but my whisper is drowned in her screams. 

Other heads in the hall slowly turn, and soon, a small group of people watch us warily. 

"Don't talk to my son like that-" Father starts, but she ignores him.

"He trusted you, he stayed back because of you!" she yowls, still trying to grab me. "I knew you were bad news since the first day, I knew it!"

"It's not his fault."

A new voice rises over the lady's shouts, and it's not my parents nor Blaise. It's Potter. He's come back from wherever he was, and is flanked by Weasley and Granger. 

Hermione. I look at her, and for the first time since last year, my chest sparks with hope. I take her in, the soot on her face, her mangled up hair, the blood on her arms. It all makes her look more stunning. 

I'm aware of the group staring at me, waiting for my reaction at Potter's defense. But I can't take my eyes off of her. 

Potter clears his throat. 

"It's not his fault," he says again, louder. "We all were lucky to get out of there alive."

I wrench my eyes away from Granger, and let my gaze rest warily on Potter. Why is he standing up for me?

"This isn't your business, Potter," Crabbe's father says. 

Goyle exchanges a glance with me, and puts his arms gently around Crabbe's parents, guiding them away. I look after him, my head cocked. Goyle turns his head back a fraction of an inch, his eyes meeting mine. Perhaps it's too late for us to be real friends; but a new respect for Goyle blooms inside me. 

"Malfoy," Potter says, bringing my attention back to him. "I wanted to return this."

He holds my wand out to me, and I take it, without saying anything. 

He stares at us, and when it becomes clear that I'm not going to respond, he shakes his head, and begins to walk away.

"Potter." 

I turn my head so fast that my neck cricks. It's not Father or Blaise who speaks, but Mother. She's grimacing at Potter, and seems to be fighting with herself. 

Potter stares expectantly at her, and after a few seconds, Mother looks down. 

"Thank you for saving my son," she says, finally meeting Potter's eyes. 

Father, Blaise, Weasley, Granger, and I gape at her. Potter, however, gives weary grin. 

"You're welcome."

And with that, the trio walks away, to go join the Weasley family in grieving. 

I stare after them, my eyes following Hermione. Blaise notices me, and pulls me aside, out of earshot of my parents. 

"The war's over," he hisses into my ear. "Go. Go bring her memory back."

"Now?" I ask, my heart beating fast. 

"You promised," Blaise points out. "You promised her that you would right after The Dark Lord was slain."

"Look at her," I murmur to Blaise, my throat lumping up. 

She's huddled up with Potter and Weasley at a deserted corner of the Great Hall, and she's looking at Weasley with such affection and tenderness, that the lump in my throat gets bigger. 

"Is it really worth it though?" I ask, my voice gravelly. 

"What's worth it?"

But we're interrupted, because suddenly, Potter looks up, and catches us staring at them. He mutters something to the other two, and stands. 

He slips under his invisibility cloak, and gestures for us to follow him. Blaise and I exchanged a confused frown. Nonetheless, Blaise and I walk out the entrance of the Great Hall where he disappeared seconds ago. 

"Over here," we hear Potter's voice hiss. 

Blaise and I duck under a singed curtain tapestry near Ravenclaw quarters, and find Potter behind it. 

"Potter," I greet curtly. 

"No congratulations? No admiration for The Boy Who Destroyed The Dark Lord?" Potter teases halfheartedly.

I don't crack a smile.

"I was joking. It doesn't feel right really, without you shitting on me-"

"Is there a reason you called us here?" Blaise interrupts. 

"I only called Malfoy," Potter points out, earning a snarl from Blaise. "But now would be the correct time to discuss the Hermione complication."

"What do you mean discuss?" Blaise asks immediately. "We're bringing Hermione's memory back, and that's it."

Potter flicks his eyes towards me, but I remain silent, deep in thought. 

"Hear me out," Potter sighs, leaning against the wall. "There are other problems that come with bringing her memory back. The first being Ron."

"What about him?" Blaise asks viciously. 

Blaise seems to have taken to standing up for me like a guard dog. 

"Don't be daft, Blaise," I say wearily. "It's obvious that Weasley and Hermione are together now."

"Exactly," Potter says, "Which is why I think that-"

"No," says Blaise loudly. "I know that you're about to say that we shouldn't bring her memory back, but that's not an option."

"That's not what I was saying-"

"You have no idea how much I've been through this year," I interrupt, finally speaking. 

Both Potter and Blaise fall silent, watching me. 

"If she remembered Draco, Weasley would mean nothing to her," Blaise butts in. 

"That's where you're wrong," Potter and I say at the exact same time. 

We stare at each other.

"Weasley does mean something to her," I say. "But so do I."

Potter sighs. 

"Fine, here's my offer," Potter says after a while. "You wait."

"How long?" 

"Next year," Potter replies confidently. 

"But it's only May," Blaise argues. "Ten months is too long!"

"I can't wait that long," I say. "I've already waited for a year-"

"Look, Fred just died," Potter says, his voice laced with grief. "Ron is already broken. If Hermione leaves him for you, he won't be able to bear it."

"I told you before, I don't give a damn about Weasley-"

"Then for Hermione!" Potter snaps. "She needs time to find her parents and bring their memories back!"

"Fine," I say curtly. 

"Draco, you can't actually be thinking about agreeing with him-" Blaise starts, but I shake my head. 

"I'm not doing it for Weasel. I'm doing it for her."

Potter glares at us, and strides away. When he slips past the curtains, he's greeted by a knot of fervent admirers.

"Why did you agree to him?" Blaise asks angrily. 

I don't answer, because a horrible thought is nagging at my mind. I didn't agree to Potter for Weasel nor Granger. It was something else. 

What if after I bring her memory back, she still chooses Weasley?