PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS CHAPTER.

Part V

The light inside the small house was dim, and the natural light that came in from outside was hardly enough to help brighten the inside of the cottage. Inside the kitchen, a man sat at an old table, reading the Daily Prophet with haunted eyes. His hands gripped the thin bunch of papers so hard they tore and bent under his fingers.

Anniversary of the Great Battle, said the title.

Inside was a brief summary of what had happened that day, and who won.

Three years. It had been three years since and Neville still didn't want to accept the truth. Disgusted, he let the paper fall to the table, still open to the page he had been reading.

Malfoy's Triumph, read another headline. Neville had barely been able to stomach reading the glowing, gloating review of how Malfoy had sent Harry to his grave, of the rise of power that came after. He could still see it; the bodies strewn about on the grass, the swirl of black cloaks and the faces of his friends, frozen in death. Harry dropping to the ground, the last of the fight being torn out of him by that wretched green light. The triumphant, almost demonic expression on Mafloy's face, slowly turning feral as he turned to face him, who had been rushing towards him with his wand drawn, aiming for one last chance.

Neville closed his eyes. The memory played on.

He'd seen the look in his eyes, had felt the same things he was sure Malfoy had felt in that instant. No hesitation. No final words. No mercy. Malfoy had raised his wand, and opened his mouth. Neville mirrored him.

And a scream stopped them both. Surprised, they both turned. Malfoy's face grew pale with anger. Neville could hardly make out the figure that was coming towards them.

"Stop her!" Malfoy had cried, his voice distorted with rage, and Neville shielded himself in time to block the Avada Malfoy had sent that would have struck him in the chest.

Who is that? There was movement around him, and he twisted himself away, raising his shield again but the Death Eaters were not coming for him. They had caught hold of her, whoever she was, who had also run out to the center of the field and were in the process of restraining her even as she fought them fiercely with her arms and legs.

For a second his heart stopped. Luna? Ginny?

And then even Malfoy lost his patience. "Enough!" he shouted. "Bring her to me!"

Curiously, he stopped the attack, and Neville watched, horrified, as Hermione was taken to them. The two that had escorted her let her go and at once she rushed to Neville, shielding him with her body.

Malfoy laughed.

"Sweetheart," he said, "step aside."

"No."

"You realize you are already due for chastisement for what you have done. I forbade you from coming here."

"I know it," she said stiffly. "But-"

"I gave you more freedom and you show gratitude by disobeying me?"

"She doesn't owe you-" Neville began, but Malfoy glared at him.

"No one is speaking to you, Longbottom. Say another word and you will suffer for it." He turned to Hermione. "Go back home and wait for me. Nott, Parkinson, make sure she will not disobey me again."

The Death Eaters came forward, and Hermione edged away from them, pale as a ghost.

"Spare him," she said. "All of them. Please."
"Why should I grant you this when you throw my kindness in my face by trying to run away again?"

"I wasn't trying to run away," she said, and Neville's heart dropped at the truth in her tone.

Why not? He wanted to ask her. You could have been free.

"I came here to stop you," she continued, trying to push Neville further behind her.

"You're too late," he said, exultant. "Potter is dead."

Her face crumbled. Tears slid down her cheeks. "I know."

"Now you'll watch me kill the other one." He raised his wand.

"NO!"

"You are trying my patience today, little bird," he told her harshly. "Go home."

"Please Draco-no!" She fought against Nott, who had seized her arm. Neville Stunned Parkinson before she could come closer, and dodged Nott's Avada. When he looked back up Hermione was standing before him again, shielding him from Malfoy, who had grabbed her by the arms, crushing her between his hands.

"Spare them," she was saying, her voice thick with tears. "And I won't ever run away again. I promise."

"Don't," was all Neville managed to say before something slashed at his face and he dropped to his knees, blinded. Hermione screamed. His hand reached up to his forehead and came back red-the blood ran down into his eyes. Two attempts at blinking restored the vision in his left eye-the other wouldn't open. He looked up, dazed.

"I swear it," she was saying, her voice wild with desperation. "I won't leave you. I'll lu-love you, I will. Just-please, let him go."

No, he wanted to say, but his mouth was full of blood. No. He's taken enough from you-don't give him the rest.

Then she was helping him up, and she was crying. His blood stained her skin. He shook his head at her, tried pulling her closer to whisper something in her ear but his hands were not his own.

Through the dark red in his vision he saw the small trace of fear in her eyes but the determination in her expression trumped it as she wiped the blood from his face with her sleeve.

"I couldn't wait any longer," she whispered hurriedly, looking over her shoulder as Malfoy approached them. Her hands dug into him, seeking reassurance, he thought, but when he looked at her eyes he saw what she needed. "I tried but I broke quickly when I went back. I'm sorry."I'm sorry.

"S'okay," he mumbled, but his face showed the opposite. Something flashed through his mind and instantly he reached for his wand, which he had dropped when he had been cut, but it wasn't there. Dizzily, he looked up and there was Malfoy, snapping it in two. Neville's heart sank.

"It's over," he said, and let the halves drop into the grass. Neville wasn't sure if he was addressing them both or simply him. He held out his hand to Hermione.

"You won't hurt him," she said.

"No."

Neville clung to her, even when Malfoy tore her away from him but his fingers had grown clumsy and weak from the loss of blood and his hand slipped away from hers.

"My wife has requested that I spare your life," he told Neville. "But I will make no such promise for any other survivor. If I find them, I will kill them. Same goes for you if I see your face again outside of this field. Do not take my words lightly."

"I should have killed you the day I met you," Neville rasped.

Malfoy sneered. "An ambitious task for an eleven year old. Get out of my sight."

Hermione had not been allowed to say goodbye. Malfoy had caught her arms and brought them around his waist, his lips crushed against hers and she didn't fight him. When he released her she let her arms drop and wiped at her eyes. When she caught sight of Neville still standing there, torn between wanting to fight and wanting to flee, her eyes had screamed at him to leave. There was grief in her eyes but the fear showed more clearly now, and as he fled, he wondered what exactly had happened to her after she had gone back to Malfoy to save his life the first time to turn her into what she was now.

The last he had seen of his best friend, she had been staring into the field where Harry's body lied, her brown eyes vacant and tortured as Malfoy barked something to his followers.

Who else had survived? It was hard to say.

Fred and George had disappeared. He hardly remembered seeing them during the battle. Dolohov had killed Ron and would have done the same to Ginny, if Neville hadn't killed him first. Ginny had been trying to protect Professor McGonagall, who was already dying at that point. Ginny was still living in the Burrow, but the last time he'd tried to visit it he'd found the place uninhabited and empty. What happened to the others he couldn't remember. Some had disappeared before the last battle; during missions and other attacks, perhaps the rest had been taken prisoner, but he wasn't sure Malfoy had the patience for that.

He had found Luna, wounded but alive, crouched beside Tonk's body. There was a Death Eater he didn't recognize lying dead some feet away, his face slashed so deeply all facial features were rendered unrecognizable. They had left immediately-defeated, injured, and hopeless.

They couldn't even go back for the bodies. When they tried the next day they found it was guarded by Malfoy's followers even though the area had been cleared. What Malfoy had done with the bodies of his closest friends and allies, Neville would never know.

Strangely, they were left alone after that. Neville had feared Malfoy would have his people hunt them down but nothing happened. Day after day passed and they stewed in fear, worrying about the others. They never received word from any of them but Ginny, who assured them she, Fred and George were well and hiding in Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were staying at Aunt Muriel's. The letter included an invitation for Luna and Neville to join them there but Neville declined.

Things didn't start changing until later on; and everything happened so slowly and subtly that one hardly noticed it. Except Neville knew Malfoy and had kept his eyes and ears alert since the day he had last seen him. The first was Malfoy's rise in power. That came as no surprise. Neville combed through the Daily Prophet every day, hoping for word of Hermione, but she was rarely ever mentioned in the publication. His eyes would hover over the obituaries, wondering if-when-he would ever read her name there. Once they had included a photo of her and Malfoy, standing outside the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. The background was full of smiling faces. Dedalus Diggle stood beside Hermione, looking at her as if she were a complete stranger though Neville knew they'd met before from some of Harry's stories. His eyes were full of fear and betrayal. Malfoy wasn't smiling but his eyes looked directly into the camera, challenging and cold and smug. Hermione was looking away, lips set in a half grimace. She held herself stiffly, with Draco's arm around her waist. It almost looked like she was trying to get out of the frame.

Neville had expected there to be an outcry afterwards-demands of Malfoy's arrest, a brief column detailing the reappearance of Hermione Granger, but there was nothing. Malfoy boasted her on his arm like he had never kidnapped her and then hid her from the world for so long a time. That people were surprised was evident-betrayed, too. He heard whispers after that; people whispering horrible things about his former best friend, and he often had to remind himself they didn't know what really happened. But he did. Every now and then he envisioned himself coming forward with the truthful account, seeing Malfoy clapped in irons and sent to Azkaban, or better, being killed on the spot.

But he knew all too well that look in Malfoy's eyes in that strange photograph.

Try and stop me, it said.

It was injustice. It was unfair to the extreme and horribly sickening that he could get away with it so brazenly. But he did, and no one could do anything about it because he was the most powerful man in Britain now. Gone was Harry, gone was Dumbledore, and gone was Voldemort. Now an even worse man had taken his place, his power, and there weren't many people left who could fight him.

Luna had woken-she walked into the kitchen, her dreamy eyes still fuddled with sleep, and sat down opposite him on the table, taking his clenched fists in her hands.

"It's time to go," she said.

It was a fine morning, just the way she best liked them. The sky was riddled with bright clouds, the humidity gone and the heat was no more than a whisper carried faintly in the sweet breeze that swept through the throng. She had chosen that morning to wear one of her old tea dresses-a faded white thing with a blue floral print on it, and a light cardigan over it for when the temperature took a dip, if it was so inclined today.

The streets here were uneven, just as she remembered them, twisting and turning through the small and well-populated village. There were more hills than streetlights; she had focused on the tightness of her calves as they had made their walk to the outdoor market.

The hearty, cheerful cries of vendors announcing their wares rang from every direction like church bells, and the fleeting glimpses of shoppers' faces flashed through her vision like the fluttering pages of a flipbook-dark skin, an untrimmed beard, a child's smile, a grim mouth, a pair of arresting dark blue eyes.

The bells-the real church bells-began to strike and she leaned against the church wall briefly, setting down her paper bags onto the cobbled street. There was another couple a little farther up ahead, but they stood with their backs to her and she was not quite in the mood for conversation, so she kept her eyes focused on the square.

This vacation had been her husband's idea-not that she was against vacationing at all-but she hadn't agreed with the timing. She wasn't superstitious by any means but they had just received the news from her exam the week prior, and she had secretly thought it was the wrong time to be out and about, traveling. A woman her age, pregnant and roaming around rural France…she'd known she would have to be very careful concerning this pregnancy-gone were her prime years and all that.

You're not that old, she told herself firmly. So shut up. And she did.

The breeze ruffled the skirt of her dress and cooled her aching legs, which was a welcome relief. Hearing something to her left, she looked there and accidentally caught eyes with one of the two strangers there. It was the man with the dark blue eyes-he was frowning, and staring at her. He looked surprised to see her, which was strange because she was positive she'd never seen him in her life. His gaze was intense, scrutinizing her features and she frowned at him. As she watched, an incredulous smile formed on his lips. An uneasy feeling crept over her and unconsciously, she pulled her hand up to her round stomach and stepped away, breaking eye contact.

Surprised with herself, she looked around the area again. Where in the devil has he got to now?

She reached into her purse, looking for her mobile when two approaching strangers caught her attention and she looked up.

Some part of her had expected it to be the blue-eyed man, but the one who stood there had eyes that were exact copies of an icy, churning ocean. She wondered if his eyes had changed in the light-it must have been so, for his features were the same. The lovely woman at his side; her eyes were dark brown, and curiously, brimming with tears.

Her breath caught in her throat. The younger woman held a close resemblance to her own deceased mother; those eyes, the shape of the face, even the hair. As far as she knew she had no living relatives in France; but here by some strange stroke of fate she had found a doppelganger of her own mother.

"It is so lovely to see you again," the young woman had regained her composure, and stepped swiftly forward to embrace the older woman, pregnant and very, very confused.

Words came out of her mouth; unplanned, unknown, but heartfelt-so much so that she felt her voice shake.

"I've missed you very much, my darling."

The embrace grew tighter, and Monica Wilkins, formerly Mrs. Granger, brought her arms up to encircle the stranger, one hand rubbed circles onto her back. The stranger shook harder.

When it was over the young woman pulled away, and smiled.

"I love you," Monica told her, stroking the younger woman's cheek.

Throughout the whole exchange the tall blond man had watched from where he stood, making no attempt to introduce himself but strangely, it didn't bother her. His strange eyes were full of sadness but when he looked at his partner they glowed with adoration and Monica felt herself relax slightly. In the years to come Monica would find herself wondering who he was exactly, and why he was so sad.

Monica watched them leave, her vision blurred with tears. A hand, familiar and warm, grasped her shoulder gently. Her husband. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, wiping her eyes. "She's kicking, is all." She didn't question why she didn't tell him what had really happened. Strangely, the memory was already fading from her mind. The harder she grasped at it, the less she remembered.

"If it hurts too much we can go sit in that park over there," he said, squinting as a sudden wash of sunlight brightened the scene.

"I'm fine, Wendell," she said, and stooped to pick up her bags but he beat her to it. "Shall we go home?"

"Whatever my lady desires," he said complacently, and they set off.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him, her voice shaky from her tears. "Why?"

Draco took her to the side, into the shadows, and held her to him. Hermione lost the control she had barely maintained over herself, and let out a strangled sob into his chest, clenching the fabric of his shirt in her fist.

"I was as surprised as you are," he said soothingly. "I would have asked you beforehand, little bird. That was fate."

The words remained unspoken, but he sensed she was thankful he had not introduced himself to them as her husband. Even if they wouldn't remember who either of them were, he knew she would be glad to have at least that little piece of her life that remained untouched by him; something that remained pure. His fingers brushed away her tears and she acquiesced.

Still, he had to ask.

"You're sure-?" You don't want them in your life?

"Yes," she said, wishing she had the strength to say the opposite. But the desire remained.

I don't want them to see what I've become. What he's made me into. I don't want him to hold them over me too.

"Take me back. Please, Draco."

"To them?" he turned to look for the departed couple, searching in the dense crowd.

"No," she said. "Take me home."

A/N:

Ok so this last part has been around for a while. The idea for this actually came to me right after I posted part four but I didn't want to rush it so I let it sit for a while before actually writing and posting. I was a little dubious about posting it here so I posted it instead on my AO3 account but it's been a few months and I changed my mind.

For clarification: The battle between Malfoy and Harry happened about a year after the previous chapter. The Order is dead; the surviving members are few and scattered around. Draco and Hermione actually live near that little village Hermione's parents were vacationing in, which is why they were there. Neville and Luna are moving to America. If you recall, his gran is still there.

FURTHER CLARIFICATION: The pregnant woman in the middle part of this chapter is Hermione's mother. Hermione is not pregnant again FYI. The whole middle part is in Mrs. Granger's POV (or I should say Monica Wilkins, as that's the name she lives under now since Hermione wiped her parent's memories). She and her husband (Hermione's dad, duh) are shopping at an outdoor market and her husband has gone off somewhere while she takes a breather in the shade. Draco and Hermione are under disguise (remember that protective ward Draco told Hermione about in Part 4? they're under disguise when Mrs. Granger first sees them (which is why Draco has dark blue eyes-she only sees Hermione from the back) but after she and Draco see each other and he realizes who she is, Draco takes off their disguise so Hermione can greet her mother properly for the first time in years. Hermione is understandably upset, but doesn't expect her mother to answer back the way she did ("I've missed you so much, etc"). That part was Draco's doing. He lifted the Obliviate long enough for Mrs. Granger to say hello to her long-lost daughter.

(I know that probably isn't possible to do with the Obliviate spell but this is my story and I'm taking liberties, thank you very much.)

I know a few of you were thinking that Draco made Hermione into a Horcrux. I did toy with the idea for a very long time, I tried writing it in but it never quite fit or made much sense so I've left it out. Maybe one day I'll come back to it and make it work in this story but for now it's not a concern of mine. I know I didn't mention the baby but it's alive and well; they left him in Joffy's care while they walked to the village. I might be writing a tiny piece on that in the future but as of now it's not likely since there's other things that I am working on.

Thanks for reading!