|| Amnesia ||
Written by Coretta
|| Before you being reading ||
There are a few things I should say before you start the story. This story (if I continue it, which will all be decided on whether you reviews are favourable or not) is a Hermione/Voldemort one. Although the first bit of interaction is Hermione/Draco, it will be her with our own Dark Lord.
We're going to ignore the Deathly Hallows and obviously the Epilogue, as well.
I'll try as hard as I can to keep everyone in-character, but Hermione will have to change. She'll lose her memories and then gain new ones surrounded by Death Eaters, so this will of course change her personality. I'll keep some aspects the same, but lots will be changed. Don't like, don't read.
I'm sorry, but I absolutely hate it when people urge me to update. A little note at the end saying 'please update soon, I'd love to read what's coming next!' would suffice. I really don't want to see any 'UPDATE NOW OR ELSE I WILL ADFLAJKDKFJSD BECAUSE I AM AN IMPATIENT GIT'. I update in my own time (I will always update, even if it takes 6 months to get a chapter out).
Praise and constructive criticism is always welcome! I'll never tire of trying to get better, but if you're going to just flame and flame but not offer advice, don't waste your time.
One last thing. As I don't have a beta and have to rely on myself for this, I'd really appreciate if you guys pointed out mistakes in grammar and spelling just at the end of your reviews, so I can go back and fix anything up.
Thank you guys! Hope you enjoy it. 3
|| Chapter One ||
Hermione Granger sat on her bed, her eyebrows furrowed. Her legs were crossed, Indian-style, and she was huddled underneath a thick, scarlet blanket. Outside the window, it was cold and dreary; a thin layer of snow was coating the trees and grounds outside the Burrow. She paid the gloomy landscape no mind, engrossed in her own thoughts.
Should I, or should I not? The question had been echoing around in her mind since last night, and it was starting to give her a headache. It didn't help that she hated the weather as well, and was freezing her toes off. Releasing a sigh, she opened the crumpled parchment in her fists, and re-read it again.
To Hermione Granger,
I realise I'm the last person you'd want to hear from, so I'll start by asking that you don't throw this away before you have read it through.
I've found myself in a bit of a dilemma. I want out. You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. I can give you information, money, anything. I just need you to help me. I know you must think me an impersonator – after all, I never thought I would be asking help from a – here, it looked like the beginning of the word 'mudblood', but it was scratched off – muggleborn – but I ask that you believe me. I need your help.
If you would deign to hear my side of the story, I'd like to meet with you tomorrow at noon at the Witches' Brew pub, located in Knockturn Alley. I'm sure there will be less chance of us being found in a compromising position there.
I know I'm a wanted man. I hope you'll not divulge the information of my whereabouts tomorrow to the authorities if you decide to not make the effort to come and hear me out.
D.M
She supposed he had ended the letter with his initials to give him some measure of anonymity, but it did little. The big Malfoy crest was quite hard to miss at the very top of the parchment. As soon as she had seen it, she had been tempted to burn it – the Muggle way, too, just to spite him – but she had been curious as to what Draco Malfoy would want with her. Now, she regretted her decision; she wished she had never read it.
Should I, or should I not? It should have been straightforward, really. It was obviously a trap. She would throw the letter in the fireplace downstairs, and be done with it. Forget about it. Erase it from her memory.
Yes, that was what she had decided to do two hours ago, and yet she couldn't bring herself to leave the room.
Maybe it was the way she had seen him last year, their sixth year. He had looked tired, pale, sallow – nothing like the cocky, arrogant and healthy boy he had been the previous years. Maybe it was how Harry had described the way he had broken down in Myrtle's bathroom. Maybe it was Dumbledore's last words to Malfoy. Whatever it was, she found herself doing something completely mental – she found herself thinking that she might go.
It only took a little bit more overanalysing – only half an hour more – before she realised she had already made her decision.
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"Where are you going, Hermione?" Ginny Weasley was standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, patting her hair dry with a big, blue towel. Her clothing – some old Quidditch robes – were drenched in mud, and she was making quite the puddle, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Have fun playing Quidditch?" Hermione asked brightly, ignoring the question. She toed some black boots on, pulling them up at the back as she hopped on one foot. Her face scrunched up as she tried to fit into them, and she decided she'd need to buy some bigger ones later. It was strange, really, how she still seemed to be growing at the age of eighteen (or nineteen, if you counted the time-turner years, which funnily enough, those who knew never did).
"Yes, I did," Ginny smiled. "Got to the snitch before Harry. I always knew I was the better Seeker. But you didn't answer my question." She looked pointedly at the other girl as she began peeling off the robes.
"Oh," Hermione laughed, slightly uneasily. "I'm just going to get some more books in Diagon Alley. You know how bored I've been, cooped up here lately. Plus, I need to finish Christmas shopping." She didn't know why she lied, but somehow, she couldn't see Ginny reacting well to her meeting up with Draco Malfoy, especially in the current atmosphere.
"Really? Are you sure you want to go today? It'll be nicer out tomorrow, last I heard from the Weather Witch. It's raining cats and dogs out there." Although the comments were made casually, Ginny's worried expression gave her true motives away.
Hermione completely understood Ginny's concern. She should have been in her seventh year, but with Dumbledore dying and Harry having no clue as to what the next Horcrux was, it had been decided that it would be better for them all to remain at the Weasley's home, which was protected by a strong Fidelius charm, performed by Minerva McGonagall. Hermione had fought against this with all her heart, as she had wanted to finish her education and complete her NEWTs, but on this matter, her opinion mattered little.
That wasn't what worried the redheaded girl, though. It was the fact that the general atmosphere in the Wizarding community was getting tenser, and that more anti-muggleborn activists were coming out of their shells. There was speculation by some members of the Order that the Ministry was becoming so corrupt that it would soon fall into Voldemort's hands. No one wanted Ron, Harry or Hermione (the latter two foremost) to be seen out and about in the public, where they could be easily snatched and taken to the Dark Lord.
"No, it's fine. I really would like to get it done soon. Christmas is only two weeks away, Ginny, and I still need more time for my lessons with Remus." That was the thing that had gotten her to quiet down about the lack of Hogwarts education. Remus Lupin had offered to tutor her in seventh-year Charms, Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. They weren't all his strong points, Potions in particular, but Hermione was grateful.
"Well then, you ought to wait until the Order is back from Grimmauld, Hermione. I'm sure anyone would be interested in escorting you. I'd come, only I've got to do some stuff for mum, or she'll get real mad at me," Ginny replied, sounding more pleading than before. "You know what's been going around on the Wireless. You can't go out alone. It's dangerous."
Hermione wanted desperately to roll her eyes, but she knew the younger girl was only interested in her welfare. "Listen, Ginny. I'll be fine. Really." She put her hand up to stop Ginny's protests. "It isn't open for discussion, I'm afraid. If you argue more, I might just have to give Ron that two-year Which Broom? subscription I'd bought for you."
Ginny's face suddenly grew excited, and her jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."
"I would."
"Fine." Ginny pouted. "Go do your shopping. Just don't be surprised when I send someone after you, when they all come back."
Hermione let a relieved smile bloom on her face, thankful that Ginny wasn't going to give her more trouble. She knew it would've been harder had Ron or Harry been there, but as they were at Grimmauld with the others (she hadn't wanted to go to the meeting, in favour of reading up more on Horcruxes), she didn't see anything standing in her way. It was fine that Ginny would send someone to follow her. They wouldn't see her anyway; she'd be in Knockturn Alley.
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"I didn't think you'd show up."
Sitting in front of her, at a table in the furthermost corner from the entrance, was one haggard-looking Draco Malfoy. For a second, Hermione didn't even register what he had said. Instead, she gaped openly at his appearance.
He had dark bags under his eyes, his pupils were dilated, his eyes blood-shot. He was pale, his hair looked messy and he looked nothing like the well-kept boy from before. It was even worse than sixth year. He looked physically sick, and even a little fragile, and she wondered what had happened to make him look so.
"Enjoying the view, Granger?" Malfoy smirked, and although it sounded almost empty (or even fake), there was still a hint of the old arrogance in there. It comforted her, for some odd reason. Shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts, she cast a glance around at the inhabitants, who were all of the shady sort, before pulling up a chair across from Malfoy.
"I'm guessing this isn't a trap, then?" Hermione said casually, cautiously. Malfoy scoffed.
"If it was, Granger, you'd be dead by now."
There was a pause, in which Hermione stared at the table, trying to wrap her head around Malfoy's new image. Was Voldemort so bad that the boy who cared so much about reputations didn't even take care of his appearance? It must have been bad to urge the Malfoy heir to ask her, a Mudblood.
"Why me?" she implored when there was no conversation forthcoming. Malfoy, who had been merely looking at her, raised an eyebrow.
"Why you what?"
"Why me? Why did you contact me?"
"Are you really that stupid, Granger? Of course I contacted you. You were the most likely to give me a chance to explain."
Hermione ignored the insult. "And what exactly do you need to explain?"
Malfoy was silent.
"I can't help you if you won't tell me anything," Hermione stated tersely.
"I'm thinking about how to say this, goddammit, Granger! Let me think for a second."
His face was twisted in a genuinely frustrated expression, and it was only this that kept her from replying with a biting retort. She bit her tongue.
A few minutes passed, and she looked around the pub, noticing the details of her surroundings for the first time. It was a dirty, old thing, nothing she'd ever usually step foot in. Perfect for this kind of clientele, she supposed. The mugs looked half-washed, the food looked unappetizing and there were crude posters on the wall. In the opposite corner, an old man leered at her, showing her a gapped grin. She shuddered, and after that, resorted to tracing the grain of the table with her finger.
"I'm going to die."
The words were said hoarsely, abruptly. Her head snapped up, and she looked with wide eyes at the man sitting across from her. His head wasn't turned in her direction; rather, it seemed like he was staring intently at a poster to his right.
"I'm going to die," he repeated, "if I stay with that monster. He's angry at me, see, because I didn't kill Dumbledore last year."
"Why would he kill you for that?" Hermione gasped. She was tempted to cover her mouth with her hand, but thought that Malfoy would find it too melodramatic. She wondered unconsciously when she had decided to care what the blonde-haired man thought. "Dumbledore-" She seemed to run out of air for a moment, and tears were brought to her eyes at the memory of the old Headmaster, before she blinked and continued, "-died. Snape killed him. Why would Voldemort punish you for something that went ahead anyway?"
"You don't understand his ways, Granger." Malfoy's hand, the one that rested on the table, clenched. "He doesn't care about the results as much as the method. If someone fails a mission, he sees it as weakness. As it is, the only thing stopping him from killing me as soon as he lays eyes on me is Severus' word."
"Snape?" The idea that the Potions master would do anything for anyone else was a foreign concept to her. Her own hands clenched, the anger she had thought buried at the man's betrayal rising to the surface again.
Malfoy nodded, noticing her fury but not commenting on it. "Severus convinced Voldemort that the old man managed to disarm me before I could kill him. The Dark Lord only believed it because he's seen firsthand how powerful Dumbledore is, and how weak I am." He spat the last words with venom, and looked like he was about to bang his hand on the table, before he controlled himself, gritting his teeth. "I want to join the Order of the Phoenix."
There was a shocked silence. "How do you know about the Order? It's supposed to be a sec-"
"Severus."
"That evil, little, traitorous bastard! Why, I'll kill him next time I see him-"
"Can you do it?"
Hermione stopped her tirade, coming back to the present conversation. She was immediately shaking her head. "I don't think so, Malfoy. It's not that I don't believe you; it's that the Order members would never accept you. Half of them still believe it was you who killed Dumbledore. I only know because Harry told me."
"Potter? What does Potter have anything to do with this? How does he know?"
"That's not important," Hermione said firmly. "The point is, as soon as you walk in the door, you'd be killed before you could say 'it wasn't me'. People are still outraged, and they want blood."
"Then what am I supposed to do, Granger?" Malfoy near yelled, tugging angrily at the ends of his hair as he jumped up. "What am I supposed to do when he orders me to kill someone? To Crucio someone? Or face the consequences, which will probably be the death of my parents?"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. She stood and grabbed his wrists in a tight hold, yanking him down roughly to his chair. "You're making a scene!"
"I don't bloody well care, Granger! I'm about to be killed, I know it, along with my parents, and I can't stand it…I can't stand it…I can't…" And suddenly he was sobbing into his hands, his elbows propped up on the table, and Hermione was frozen, staring at him.
For the first time, Hermione truly realised the emotional state Malfoy was in. He was on the verge of having a complete breakdown, and she didn't know what to do. She had never realised how terrible Voldemort was. Sure, she knew he was a horrible man; he killed people, he tortured, he was insane. But she was seeing firsthand how awful he really was – he had reduced one of his own followers, a dignified, arrogant man who believed all his propaganda, to a sobbing mess. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was sincere.
Awkwardly, she stood and walked to his side of the table, wringing her hands. She only got a half-second of thought, to think about the consequences of her next actions, before her hands were moving of their own accord to snake around him. He stiffened as well as he could, but he couldn't stop the tremors racking through his body.
"Shh," Hermione murmured. "It'll be okay. I'll help you. I'll do whatever it takes to help you." It was very awkward trying to hug him from the back, and she only just managed to stop herself from cringing at what she thought this would look like from an outsider's point of view. "I'll talk to the Order, okay? I'll talk to them, and I'll make them see that you're good. We'll find you and your parents a safe hiding place where no one will find you, and we'll come get you at the end of the war. Shh…" She had no idea if she was overstepping her boundaries, promising this to a Death Eater and his family, but she didn't regret it. She felt him slowly relax, and the shaking gradually lessened until he was still once more.
He didn't say anything, but she felt it was the end of cuddly-time anyway, and she stepped away from him and moved to sit on her side of the table, glaring at those who had been watching the scene unashamedly.
"Okay, now that that's settled," Hermione said briskly, acting as if nothing had happened, "is that all you had to say?" He didn't voice it, but she knew he was grateful for not harping on about his emotional moment. Instead, he replied, although his voice wasn't the normal smoothness it usually was.
"Yes, that's all I had to say. When do you think you'd be able to do talk to the Order? We should meet up again to discuss further action. I'm sure you understand when I say I'd like this to happen as soon as possible."
Hermione thought about it for a second, before giving him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I don't think I can talk to them until after Christmas. There's bound to be a heap of fighting going on about this, and I don't want to ruin everyone's Christmas with arguments." She looked truly regretful.
Malfoy didn't look too happy about it, but he gave a curt nod, expecting the answer. "I'll see you after two weeks, then. Have a merry Christmas."
Standing outside the pub five minutes later, she wondered if the thing that had surprised her the most out of that meeting was his parting greeting.
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"Hermione!"
Uh-oh, she thought. Alarm bells started ringing in her head loudly, as she took in the murderous expression on one Ronald Weasley's face. Harry Potter trailed after him, also frowning.
She had left Knockturn Alley only a few minutes ago, and was walking down the main road of Diagon Alley, intent to do what she had told Ginny she would. She was on her way to the bookstore, although her mind was not completely focused on the task at hand. Thoughts of her meetings with Draco Malfoy still kept running through her head, cramping her thinking space and making her head feel too small.
Ron stalked to her, face flaming red. There was no warning before he grabbed her wrist roughly and Apparated out of Diagon Alley, taking her with him.
Hermione was, for a moment, too stunned to do or say anything as they reappeared at the Burrow, in the kitchen. "Ron, what are you doing?" she almost screeched when she had regained her sense, trying to shake his tight hold on her forearm. She could practically feel the skin bruising. "Let go of me! What's wrong?"
He didn't answer, staring at something behind her, and it only took her a few seconds to turn around and realise what it was. It was now that she noticed that it was completely silent in the house, and that all the occupants, as well as half the Order, were crammed in the small kitchen, watching at her. Ginny was at the forefront, face red with anger, and now that she looked, she noticed the rest of them were looking at her with expressions ranging from worry to confusion to rage.
"Ronald, let Hermione go!" Molly Weasley's voice broke the tense silence, and Ron let her go, flinging her arm away disgustedly. Hermione was hurt, and confused. "She does not need to be manhandled by you! I'm sure the dear can explain herself."
The confusion grew. "Explain myself, Mrs. Weasley?"
"That's right!" Ron spluttered before his mother could reply. His face was red with fury. "Explain yourself! Where were you? Why did you leave the house without telling someone?"
"I did tell someone," Hermione replied, growing upset by the second. Why was Ron yelling? It wasn't like they actually knew where she was, and even if they did, it wouldn't make him this angry…so why didn't she tell them in the first place? "I told Ginny."
"You told me?" Ginny laughed, and the sound was cold, humorless. "You told me, Hermione, that you were going to Diagon Alley to get some books and to finish buying your gifts for Christmas. You didn't tell me you were meeting a bloody Death Eater!"
|| Author's Note ||
So how was it? :D I know it wasn't much of a cliffhanger, but I had to cut it somewhere, or this would have been a bit long. I don't really plan to write 20 page chapters if I can help it.
Anyway, if you liked, review and tell me, and I might continue!
Love, Coretta