A/N: It has come to my attention that emails were on the fritz today. If you haven't read Chapter 23 yet, please do so.

For those who passed over Chapter 23 due to the trigger warning, a brief summary:

Draco and Theo attend dinner at the Wilkinses' on the second of May, where they talk about a number of things, including the fact the Wilkinses' failed their exams when they applied to be dentists in Perth. A discussion about Peeves chasing Umbridge from the school during fifth year triggers Monica to remember being pregnant. After Wendell puts her to bed, he explains Monica is exhibiting signs of early onset Alzheimer's or dementia, which causes Draco to realize Monica's symptoms resemble a crumbling Memory Charm. He uses Legilimency to view Monica's memories and learns that the couple does in fact have a daughter who appears to be a Muggle-born. Within minutes, he and Theo realize that daughter is Granger.

After invading Wendell's mind to confirm the theory, Draco has a panic attack as he grapples with the horrifying truth that his new home is no longer safe, since Granger will likely come looking for her parents after she sits her N.E.W.T.s. Monica hears Draco start shouting and comes back into the sitting room and calms Draco down until he's able to think and speak coherently again. Once collected, Draco confesses the darker side of the war to the Wilkinses, including the fact that he witnessed their daughter's torture at the hand of his aunt. Wendell asks Draco to leave while Monica asks him to stay and continue working for them.

The chapter ends with Theo and Draco Apparating back to the cottage, unsure of what they're going to do next.

Hermione

The Great Hall was decorated in shades of black, silver, and white. Small round tables were scattered throughout, adorned by light grey tablecloths. White candles and silver wax roses sat in the centre of each table. The place settings were silver plates stacked with black napkins. Satin in each shade billowed from the centre of the ceiling and dropped down to the floor, creating an indoor marquee. Hermione could glimpse the starry sky between the fabrics. After eight years, the ceiling of the Great Hall remained her favourite aspect of Hogwarts.

As everyone milled around the room before dinner, Hermione passed by Harry with a questioning look. He nodded to the Entrance Hall, where they quickly set off to the side for a private conversation.

"Anything?" she asked.

Reaching inside his jacket, Harry pulled out a folded parchment. "We were able to track down the ownership records from the bakery. It appears to have been operated by a Wendell and Monica Wilkins from October 1997 to August 1998. The address of the bakery and the address of their personal residence is on that paper. Legally, the trail goes cold after the bakery closed. I can't push any farther without going back to Perth and interviewing known associates, and that doesn't fit with any active investigations. I'm sorry."

Hands shaking from either fear or excitement, she wasn't sure which, Hermione took the parchment. "It's okay. It gives me a place to start."

"You're not going to do that now, are you?" Harry eyed her with a serious stare that indicated she needed to stay right where she was.

She shook her head. "No. You and Ginny talked me into finishing out my schooling since we're so close to the end."

"Good. Now, let's grab our seats before Ron eats all the food."

They joined Ron and Ginny at one of the tables with Neville, Hannah, Justin, and Daphne. In spite of the forcibly cheery mood, Hermione felt a mix of hope for finding her parents and awkwardness as the couples sat together while she and Ron avoided looking at each other. Things hadn't been the same since Percy, and a sinking feeling told her things would never be the way they once were.

By the time dinner ended, George was the most inebriated person in the hall, though Pansy Parkinson gave him a run for his money. Why she had even shown up to the memorial celebration baffled Hermione, but there she was in pink dress robes, stumbling through the crowd with manic giggles. Some people ignored her; others stared with decisive hatred. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws took turns sequestering her in corners until she broke free and began her rampage again.

"This is bloody weird," Ron said, watching Parkinson slip through the arms of Padma Patil. "I keep expecting Malfoy and his goons to walk in and start sneering at us."

"Never again," Ginny said. "It'll be Azkaban for that one."

"Goyle only got house arrest," Harry pointed out. "Malfoy will probably get off pretty light if we ever find him."

"When we find him," Ron corrected. He raised his glass in a toast. "To catching the bastard who made our lives hell for six years."

Harry and Ginny clinked their glasses to his, then looked confused when the rest of their friends kept their glasses firmly on the table. "You guys can't be serious. Malfoy needs to go to trial."

Hermione bit her lip and looked at her hands. "It's not that..."

"Then what is it?" Ron asked. "Don't tell me you've forgotten everything he's said to us. Done to us."

"Of course I haven't! But childish immaturity doesn't make him a candidate for Azkaban."

"You've seen him twice in two years—"

"Stop it," Daphne snapped. "Tonight is about honouring the people who died in the fight against You-Know-Who. It is not about arguing over Draco's fate."

The others nodded. "I agree," Hannah said. "Malfoy doesn't belong here, physically or spiritually. Let's talk about something else."

Ron glowered at the eighth-years. "This whole inter-house unity thing has made you lot soft." He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow and stood. "Crabtree's always up for a good Death Eater bashing, so I'll be over there if anyone needs me." He made it three steps before he stopped cold. "Fred?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look before jumping to their feet. "I can't believe he came," Hermione breathed, but there he was, just beyond the satin wall. The light from inside the marquee cast a shadow over him, which just made him glow eerily in the dark. Hesitance marked his face as he watched the attendees from his hiding place.

"D'you think he'll talk to George?" Ginny asked.

"Hang on." Harry pushed his glasses up and squinted at the women. "Fred? Is a ghost?"

"We need to find George," Hermione said. "Fred can't assault him in the middle of everyone. This needs to be private."

"Er—Hermione? How long have you known about this?" Neville asked.

She twisted the fabric of her grey robes between her fingers. "Awhile."

"That's not an answer," Harry said.

"It doesn't matter. The point is, if George sees him in the middle of all these people, all hell's going to break loose." She tugged Ginny's arm and they began hunting through the crowd. Neville and Harry followed close behind while Ron stayed rooted to the spot.

"Over there," Ginny said. The four Gryffindors converged on George and stole him away from the middle-aged witch who was currently humouring his drunkenness.

The elder Weasley did not take kindly to their interference and smacked Neville on the back in an effort to flail his way out of their grasp. "Oy! Lemme go! She wanted to know about the new line of love potions." When no one responded, George dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "I'll tell you a secret. They're not really love potions. They just help in the love department, if you know what I mean."

"No one knows what you mean, George." Ginny removed the half-empty tumbler of Firewhisky from her brother's hand and passed it off to Hermione.

"Give it back!" George protested. "That's not for you. It's for me. I need it because I don' wanna be here." He slurred his last words.

Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head. "None of us want to be here."

"Fine. If you don' wanna be here, then you drink it. And then we can both be sloshed." A terrifying glint lit George's eyes. "Like on Christmas. You remember that. You made a snow angel and fell asleep next to the broomshed." He cackled. "At least you didn' fall asleep elsewhere. Charlie and I had bets on if you'd end up in Ron's room or Percy's. Harry bet that you'd come out of the night with your virginity intact." The man eyed her from top to bottom. "You did, right? Otherwise, Harry's gonna owe me some Galleons."

Burying her disgust with George, Hermione whirled on her best friend, unsure if she should feel offended, violated, or happy that he trusted her moral character. "How dare you get involved in a bet like that!" she screeched.

Harry flinched and glared at George. "YOU weren't supposed to tell her about that. And at least I won," the bespectacled man said.

"You won half," Ginny interjected. "Don't forget that I said she'd pass out in the snow."

"Et tu, Brute?" Hermione asked, exasperated with her friends. In some part of her mind, she knew that she should have expected something of the sort, especially where the Weasley brothers were involved. "Honestly, you lot are the worst friends sometimes."

"Don't lie to yourself. You know we're amazing," Ginny retorted.

"How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways," Hermione muttered under her breath as they reached the edge of the marquee. She took a bracing breath and met Ginny's eyes. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" George asked, and stopped as the satin drifted to the side. "No."

The world stood still as the Weasley twins saw each other for the first time in exactly a year. The fabric of the marquee fell against Hermione's head, but she didn't notice as she watched the men with apprehension. Both fought for composure in an odd mirror-like demonstration; Fred looked like a silver reflection of his struggling brother. Tension rippled in the air as they waited to see which twin would speak first.

"Am I dreaming?" George whispered. No one responded, just looked between the pair. Tears filled George's eyes and his pale skin became blotchy with panic and grief. "Am I dreaming? Ginny, am I dreaming?" he demanded, his voice getting louder with each question.

"You're not dreaming," Fred answered. He hovered several feet away as if unsure if he could approach the small group. "Gin, Minnie. Tell him he's not dreaming."

"You're not dreaming," Hermione said gently.

"Where's my whisky?" George asked. He caught sight of the glass still in Hermione's hand. "Hermione, give me the whisky."

"George..."

"Just give me the goddamn whisky!"

She looked at Fred with a silent plea. His face contorted into pure grief as he watched George swipe for the alcohol. "I knew this was a bad idea," he said in his distant voice.

"He just needs to get used to you—"

"He's not going to. This was a bad—"

"Fred?"

Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Harry turned around to see the stout form of Mrs. Weasley staring at her ghostly son. Not far behind, Ron, Percy, Bill, and Mr. Weasley trailed over with expressions ranging from dazed to disbelieving.

"Fred?" Mrs. Weasley whispered again. Her hands reached behind her, searching for something to hang on to. Bill lent a hand to steady his mother. "You're a—are you really here?"

"I am." Fred looked at Hermione with a pained expression. "Can you...?"

She nodded and turned to the gathered group. "Let's all back up. I know all of you want to talk to him, but he needs time with George first. Let's give them that."

"No. I need to see my son," Mrs. Weasley said, and tried to push past Hermione. Bill and Harry caught her and pulled her back.

"Give them a minute, Mum. There will be plenty of time to talk to him later."

If he doesn't run away again, Hermione thought. As she led the Weasleys to a nearby table, she realized she was still holding George's Firewhisky. With a grimace, she knocked back the remaining contents of the tumbler.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry asked.

She shook her head and set the empty glass on the table. "There's something I need to do. Can you make sure they don't go overwhelm Fred? He's still adjusting and he's been a bit fragile."

"How long have you known?"

"Since November. He...he did something for me, to try to help me heal. And now I need to go finish what he started."

"You're being cryptic, Hermione."

"I know." She pulled Harry into a bone-crushing hug and tucked her face against his neck. "I love you, you know. I'll be back." With that, she grabbed Neville by the hand and walked over to the table where Justin, Daphne, and Hannah talked among themselves. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherin quieted and looked at the pair curiously. "I have something I need to do. I hoped Neville and Justin might help me."

Wand set to the side, Hermione levitated a repaired chunk of stone and rotated it until it nestled like a puzzle piece into the crevice it used to occupy before Peeves and the fireworks. As Neville and Daphne incanted, the stone melded together until it was whole again. Justin and Hannah, joined by Astoria and her Ravenclaw friends, a third-year Muggle-born Slytherin and his friends, and a handful of Gryffindors sorted through the rubble to find pieces and identify where they might fit in the destroyed walls.

The process took hours, but as the classroom came back together, Hermione felt her own heart and mind mend with the stone. The tension of anxiety, fear, brokenness, and grief began to relax away. She actually laughed when one of the younger students poured a handful of dust down the back of Justin's robes. He and Hannah quickly transfigured what remained of the destruction into snow.

On the Second of May, one year after Justin lost the use of his leg and Fred lost his life and everything changed in so many good and bad ways, the old Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom saw healing in the form of a snowball fight. Even more important, all four houses were healing together.

End of Book One

A/N: 'Et tu, Brute?' is a quote from Julius Caesar by Wm. Shakespeare; 'How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways,' is a play on the poem 'How Do I Love Thee?' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Thank you all for reading. I have posted the first two chapters of the sequel, The Breaking of Hermione Granger. Those who came looking for Dramione, the next installation is for you.