The pages of Ginny's book and Ron's book and Harry's book that had shook themselves free were once again sewn shut.

When she considered herself finished, she checked the clock on the mantle.

Half-past three in the morning.

Draco had been gone for almost an hour. If he didn't return—

She shut down those thoughts. She buried them.

She stood and moved around the room, working her tired legs and focusing on her breath. She was barefoot, tracing the outline of the room, placing one foot in front of the other and counting how many footsteps in circumference the bedroom was.

The fireplace blazed.

She spun from her position at the windows to find Draco stepping out into the bedroom, eyes searching for her. Her chest cracked in two as she ran to him.

A split second to catch the relief on his face before she tumbled into him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered as he held her, drinking in the steady thud of his heartbeat. The warmth of his skin.

He was alive.

"It's done." His voice rumbled into her chest.

She flinched, remembering. He'd killed for her. He'd risked his own life to take another. Her stomach twisted in guilt.

"Did anyone see you."

He shook his head. "They were distracted by rounding up the werewolves."

Hermione licked her lips. "Your—your father knows. He came looking for you. I tried to stop him, but…"

"I know." Draco brushed a curl behind her ear. "He found me in the dungeons. We Obliviated the rest of the Carrow Girls."

Her eyes shot open. The Carrow Girls. She hadn't even thought about them—

"He…?"

"Yes." A long pause. "He's not happy with us."

She took a shuddering breath. "Draco, I'm—" Her voice broke. "I'm sorry I asked this of you. I wish there was another way, but they would have found all of us out—"

"Granger—"

"You're sure no one saw you?" Her grip tightened. "What did you do with the body?"

"There wasn't one." He pulled back and plucked a vial from his robes. She stared at the shimmering contents, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Charlotte's memories. She gave them to me before I removed them."

Hermione's lips tried to form words. "She's not — you mean she's alive?"

Draco nodded. He turned and set the vial of memories on the mantle.

Her knees felt unsteady beneath her. "You kept them. You saved all her memories—"

"Just the ones of her work with the Order. She was able to bring them forward without magic." His throat bobbed as she stared at him. "I'm not sure if they can be returned. I'll work on finding a Pensieve, but for now, it's done."

He looked exhausted, but his eyes were focused. He smelled like blood and sweat.

She studied his scratches and blood-speckled arms, and he seemed to notice. He cast a quick Tergeo over himself and tossed his wand aside.

He was alive. He'd come home to her.