The Muse Manor

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione's head was reeling. She had a lot to think about, a lot to ponder over, parse out, and wrap her mind around, but no real time in which to do it. Still, she tried her best, though part of her distracted state of mind wasn't due to the war itself or anything that had happened afterwards. It wasn't because of Ron or Harry or Ginny or even what had happened when she'd gone to Australia to find her parents.

What had her mind jumbled up the most were the memories, memories of a time and place so unlikely that she would have dismissed them for false if she didn't know in her heart that they were real. She knew all of that had happened. She'd tried talking to Harry and Ron a few times, but every time she tried, they dismissed her memories for dreams. Frustrated, she stopped trying and held them in.

Until it it occurred to her that there was one person who might remember, too. It was a long shot, especially after everything that had happened towards the end of the battle, but she had to try. Like sixth year, Hermione understood why he'd done everything he'd done, why he's tried to capture them again, and she couldn't say she blamed him. Honestly, she really couldn't. He'd been in a terrible position and had tried to make the most of it. She couldn't begrudge him that.

So, it was with a nervous tilt to her handwriting that she finally sat down with a tiny piece of parchment. On it, she wrote two words: Wings? -Mione If he knew, it he understood, if he remembered... She couldn't help but hope that he would reply favorably. Taking a deep breath, she sealed the parchment up in an envelope and sent it off with her owl.

It was all up to Draco Malfoy now.