The smell of rain had lingered in the cool air. It seemed to be almost midnight, according to the sky and the moon. She wasn't supposed to be out at this time, but her parents weren't there to stop her. They were vacationing while she was studying for her Sixth Year.
She had found him a block away from her house, in Garrote Crescent. He was bloody, mangled, broken and unconscious. She took him home and cared for him, brewing potions to keep him alive.
He was a Muggle; he had thick, soft brown hair and unbelievably big grey eyes...somewhat familiar ones. The first time he woke, it had been two weeks since she had found him. He opened his eyes to feel small hands dancing on his stomach; when he looked down, he almost vomited. It looked as if a spoon had scooped some flesh from his torso cleanly, and she was putting this and that in it. He watched her for a while before she realised he was watching; she blushed.
She seemed familiar...did he know her? He couldn't remember anything, but when he dreamed...when he dreamed, all he saw was bright flashes of light, green, red and blue...and sticks being waved, broken and thrown...and a big man with sharp teeth coming...biting down on him...blood everywhere...moons...black...
He never talked. She talked to him everyday as she tended to his wounds, but he never talked back. She was okay with that. It was nice to have company when she was all alone. Ron and Harry never owled.
Then he spoke.
He had been looking out the window, and she had been in her room, brewing potions out of his sight and knowledge. He had seen lightning, and the memories of lights and thunder came back to him...he yelled...she ran in...asked if he was ok...he said he was...
And they talked. She found out that he had lost his memory, he found out she went to a special boarding school in Scotland. She worked on a potion to restore his memory, and two weeks later, it was ready. She gave it to him little by little, afraid that a sudden onslaught of memories might cause him to go comatose.
He remembered a school, a big one in a castle...
He remembered his father and mother, expressions cold...
He remembered the big snake, and the pale man...
He remembered her. Hermione. The Mudblood.
He didn't like her. He shouldn't like her. But she looked after him.
When she asked if he remembered his name, he said he didn't. But he did.
When she asked if he remembered his previous life, he said he didn't. But he did.
He only told her...he was magic.
And so she began to figure out a potion to remove the blockage in his magic that had prevented his magical signature from being detected. It would have been a lot easier if she could use magic, but she couldn't.
And then she had it, and she gave it to him, but he couldn't try to use magic, because he couldn't allow himself to be detected...especially so close to the full moon...he had to warn her...
"I'm a werewolf." She didn't react at all, except for the soft smile he had begun to love.
"It's ok. I have a potion for you. You'll be able to stay here."
"I don't want you to be hurt." And he realised he had grown to love her, and he kissed her, and it was one of the strangest things he had ever felt, because normally girls weren't so beautiful, or so fragrant, or so kind, or so lovely...
And when she told him she had to prepare to go to school, and she asked him if he would like to go with her, he said yes. So they met Dumbledore, and he smiled, and his eyes twinkled, and when he turned to the brown-haired boy, he said, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy."