Disclaimer: I own nothing in here (except four minor characters) The characters, world, and magic of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and we are just grateful she turns a blind eye to our playing in her backyard.

"Tell us another one, papa." My youngest grandson begs me. The eldest, my granddaughter, sits in a chair next to me, smiling patiently, quietly awaiting another story from me. Smiling, I put the youngest on the floor and stand up, taking my cane for help. Immediately, as if she were waiting out in the hall, my daughter in law, Lisele, steps into the room gathering her children from their places.

"Come children, your grandfather is tired. Let's leave him in peace for now."

The children leave under their mother's care. She glanced back once, briefly, before leaving the room completely. She fears me. Even now, after almost seven years of marriage to Tiernan and seven years of living in this house, she still fears me.

I walk over to the window looking out at the garden. Even now, I refuse to visit there. The gardens and the property under the west wing tower, I will never see again in this lifetime.

I hear footsteps enter my study and I know who it is.

"She still fears me."

Silence, then the footsteps grow closer.

"Lisele cannot help it, Father." Tiernan states. "It isn't only you. It's this house. She hates this house. She swears she hears laughter and voices at night."

I turn from the window. "That is preposterous. There was never laughter in this house."

"I have news from our Lord." My son says, trying to turn the conversation from its logical conclusion. "He wishes your presence at our next meeting."

I turn to face my son. Sometimes it is a hard task as he reminds me of his mother.

"Tiernan," I sigh. "I am old. And I am tired. I have long ago given you the mantle of second in command. There is no need for me to once again enter into the ranks of the Death Eaters."

"Father, He only wishes you to attend. Nothing more is required of you."

"He wishes to test my allegiance." I say, sneering at my son. "I have given our Lord everything he required. I have fought for him, given my life at his pleasure, and sacrificed everything for his victory. Have I not proven my alliance more than satisfactory? What more could he possibly wish for? My life? That is forfeit as I have already lost that eight years ago!"

"Father." I can hear the fear in Tiernan's voice. Never once has he ever not followed our Lord's wishes to the direct letter. For that fact, neither did I. And my reward was madness and death. But I was not willing to budge on this matter. I would not be pulled back into Voldemort's service. I would rather die first.

A breeze wafted through the open window, brushing my face as I stood facing my son. That's when I smelled it. The smell of old books and strawberries. I felt my heart skip, a lump caught in my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe. There was only one person who smelled like that.

It was enough for me to relent. Having Tiernan suffer for my disobedience was not acceptable.

"Very well. Tell our Lord I will attend."

The relief was evident on is face as he smiled. And for a moment I saw her in his smile.

Walking over the grounds, I found myself wondering what had occurred in my study. Why now, after eight years of nothing, would that smell invade my senses? Had I imagined it or had she truly come back, briefly, in protection of her son.

My thoughts were interrupted by the loud laughter of children. I stopped, trying to place their voices before I realized they were coming from the gardens.

I froze. Why did it have to be the gardens?

The wind picked up again and again the smell brushed past my face. Old books and strawberries. Against my will, my feet propelled me into the gardens, following the trail of flowers until I spotted the children. The came running towards me as I entered the clearing.

"Papa, she said you would come!" Ayanna cried out, embracing me, Soren following suit. Unlike their mother, my grandchildren did not fear me.

Soren pulled on my hand. "Come papa. Sit and tell us stories." He demanded as only a four year old can. Smiling, I allowed myself to be led towards the iron bench sitting in the middle of the garden.

"I believe I've told you all the stories I know." I tell them, Ayanna's word only then registering in my mind. "Who said I would come, Ayanna?"

She smiles then, looking so much like her father. "The lady that visits here." She replies.

"Lady?"

"She's very pretty." Soren adds. "She tells us stories. Old stories of a big school and magic. She says you know the stories too. Why don't you ever tell us those stories, papa?"

I look over at Ayanna for explanation. Her seven-year-old face is somber.

"She said there was a time when Our Lady was just a little girl and Our Lord was not here. Was there a time, papa?"

I freeze for a moment. Standing up, I hold my hands out for the children to take.

"Let's walk. I want to show you something."

Together, we walk from the garden, the children on either side of me. We walk into the house like this, with them holding my hands, trusting me completely, as if I would never harm them. I never will. I grow weary of the pain and the death. Part of me wishes these children could have a choice, as I had. But I know they will not be children forever and soon they will be merely pawns for Lord Voldemort and his Dark Lady. An overwhelming anger fills me suddenly, and for the first time in my life, I regret my actions of that day so long ago.

We walk down the hall, and to my left I see Lisele step out of the shadows.

"Children, come here." She demands.

Snarling, I turn the full of my pent up anger on her, feeling with satisfaction, the creature for which I was named raise its head.

"They are perfectly safe with me, Lisele." I sneer. "I will return them to you shortly."

I see her cringe under my anger, but I do not care. My focus is only for one thing now. Walking up the stairs to the third floor, we walk to the end of the hall. Letting go of Ayanna's hand long enough to unlock the door, we walk in.

I see Ayanna's look of rapture at the room before her. A room I have not visited for eight years. It is still as perfect and neat as it was the last time I set foot in it.

"Oh papa," Ayanna breaths. "It's beautiful."

"Whose room is this, papa?" Soren asks. I release his hand and point at the portrait that hangs over the fireplace.

"Her's."

Soren looks at the portrait, and his eyes widen. In that moment, I know.

"That's her!" He exclaims, running towards the fireplace to look at the painting. "That's the lady that visits us in the garden and tells us stories."

Ayanna looks at me, her eyes are still wide.

"Who is she, papa?"

I smile, looking up at the portrait for the first time. "Your grandmother."

I am anxious. Tiernan has been watching me all through dinner. He knows something is amiss. After dinner, I take the children into the study for a story. Tiernan follows. I would prefer him not to be here, but it is his decision. And he deserves to hear this story.

I look over at Ayanna, who has finally settled herself into a chair.

"Where did she leave off?" I ask. Her eyes brighten and she grins. I feel Soren grow anxious on my lap.

"You will finish the story?" Ayanna asks. I nod.

"Although I cannot promise you the same events. We will have different accounts of the story, I fear." I tell her. She nods.

"She had left off with the dragons." She states. "Three contestants had already gone, and it was the turn of the one who shouldn't have been chosen."

"Tell us about the eggs!" Soren insisted. "Don't forget to tell us about the eggs!"

I smile. The Tri-wizard tournament. It would figure. I see Terinan frown in confusion.

"Let's see. The curtain opened and our hero ran out. The dragon eyes him warily, because he was, after all, trying to take her egg. He dodges a snort of fire and thrusts his hand in the air, calling out. Out of nowhere, his broom comes flying towards him and he leaps on in mid flight, surprising the crowd and the dragon…"

"Father?"

I stop at the landing, and wait for him to catch up.

"Where's Lisele?"

"Still in with the children. You upset her this afternoon. Are you feeling well?"

I turn, looking at him fully for the first time in years. His hair is still golden; his eyes still the color of a stormy sky. He looks at me, worried, and I'm suddenly stricken with sadness. Taking a step towards him, I place my hand on his shoulder.

"Tiernan, I'm sorry."

He frowns. "Sorry? What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't the father you needed. I tried so much not to be like my own father with you, I forgot to actually be a father. I failed you and I failed her."

I felt him flinch at that. He tried not to think about his mother, preferring to remember her as she was that last night.

"You failed no one, Father." Tiernan tells me. But I know I have. I blindly turned my own son over to Our Lord, as my father did with me. After promising her he would not be hurt, I did the one thing she feared.

"Promise me you will not fail your own children, Teirnan." I say. "Let them be children for as long as they can. Do not introduce them to a world of servitude at an early age as I did you. Let them choose."

Terinan frowns. "Of course Father," He says, and I know he lies. He speaks this because he believes I am growing delusional in my old age. I am not delusional, merely awake. Awake for the first time in my life.

"I'm going to retire for the evening." I tell him, watching his face grow relieved again. He cannot hide his emotions. Just like his mother.

"Of course Father. I will see you tomorrow."

Turning away, I continue my trek to the third floor. Tonight I will sleep in her room.

Unlocking the door, I enter, muttering an illumination spell under my breath and locking the door behind me. The room is exactly as I left it that afternoon.

Placing my cane next to the bed, I lay down, relaxing….waiting.

The terrace doors are still open from where Ayanna open them this afternoon, and I feel a breeze blow into the room. Accompanied by the smell of old books and strawberries. She's here.

"I know you're here." I call out. "Show yourself."

The breeze grows stronger, and I open my eyes, turning my attention to the doors.

She steps into the room and my breath catches in my throat. She looks exactly like she did when we were in love so long ago. She is wearing her school uniform, as she walks further into the room, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. I sit up, watching her. She is clear and solid and as beautiful as she was the last time I saw her.

She turns her eyes towards me and smiles.

"Draco." Her voice sounds like music to my ears. I feel my eyes grow hot.

"Why are you here?" I ask. "Why now? Eight years of nothing. Why now?"

Still smiling, she walks towards me. A moment of panic sets in and I lean back away form her. She stops, the smile leaving her lips.

"Classes started long ago, and you are beyond tardy." She admonishes, giving me a stern look. The panic leaves and all I want to do is run to her, bury myself in her embrace and never let go. It's been too long since I have last seen her.

"Hermione." My voice isn't steady. She smiles again, and takes another step foreword. This time, I don't flinch. Taking my cane, I stand up. She eyes the cane, her nose wrinkling in distaste

"Why now." I repeat, walking towards her. Her brown eyes flick back to meet mine and I see everything. Joy, happiness, love…things I can never have.

"Your time is near, love." She speaks softly. I feel my eyes growing hot again. "I've talked with Dumbledore and he has allowed me one last visit. One last chance."

I frown. "Chance? Chance for what? I've lost all my chances, Hermione. I made my decisions long ago, destroying you and everything else in the process. My chances are long gone. My soul is forfeit."

She shakes her head, her brown eyes flashing anger. "I worked long and hard for this Draco Malfoy!" She states, stomping her foot. "You are not going to mess it up for me with your stupid talks of lost causes, you annoying little ferret!"

I smile. "You still care."

"I heard what you said this morning to Teirnan." She said, her face serious. "No matter what you did in the past, you always get one last chance." She smiles, glancing behind her briefly before turning her attention back to me. "I got that one last chance, and so do you."

"Why? Why would I get one last chance to redeem myself? I've done horrible things, unspeakable things."

"What was your reward for your betrayal?" She asked. "The one thing you asked Voldemort for if He won?"

"You."

She nods. "I asked for you. I betrayed my friends for you. And I was given a choice at the end." She holds out her hand. In it is a folded robe.

"What is that?"

"Your robes, of course." She states as if I should have known this all along. "I can't promise everything will be wonderful or perfect. Harry and Ron are just dying for you to get there so they can make your life a living hell."

"I don't deserve this." I say again. Her smile faded and she walks towards me. I stand my ground.

"Maybe you feel you don't." She says, reaching out. I gasp as I feel her hand touch my cheek. This time I feel the tears run down my face. It has been so long since I've touched her. "But I do. I deserve this more than anything in this world."

She steps back, her hand still holding the robe. "Please Draco. All you have to do is take the robe and everything will be fine."

I know what this means. This is the end. Either way, I will not see the morning. Tiernan will continue as Voldemort's second in command, and soon he will hand his children over to Voldemort just as I did. I cannot save them. I am tired. More tired than I was this morning. I am tired of the senseless violence, the meaningless deaths, the tortures, and the strict demands of loyalty.

I see Hermione turn her head, then look back at me, urgency now in her eyes.

"Draco." She pleads. "Please, they're coming."

Looking over at the terrace I see the darkness seep in, then two tall cloaked back figures. My blood freezes. This is my hell, coming to greet me. My punishment, the punishment I rightly deserve for everything I've done in my life. My mind tells me I should turn my back on Hermione, allow her to live in her heaven without me, take the punishment I so richly deserve. My gut tells me to take the robe, to be safe. Anything to be away from the terrifying creatures now gliding ever closer to me.

I look at her again. She stands there, still holding the robe out to me, her eyes terrified. Without thought, I drop my cane, and take a step foreword, grasping her hand and with it the robe.

To be without her, that has been my hell. And I have been in hell for far too long.