"I don't want Draco to be involved in this Tommy," Hermione said one day, laying in a thin night dress on Tom's green silk laden bed. Their bed now. She had obliviated the muggle parents who had given birth to her, who had genuinely loved her and she them, but she loved Tom all that much more. The least she had done for them, as she took the only daughter they had ever known and raised for sixteen years was replace her with a new muggle Hermione. A young one they could love fully and keep close to them.