This is something totally random that just popped into my head one morning. So here is another Draco/Hermione story which I hope will be successful.
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She awoke with a start, for no reason at all. There was nothing but darkness around her. But then she felt movement, a stirring at her side. Startled, she leapt out of bed, tripping over the sheets that had tangled themselves around her legs.
"Hermione?" A sleepy voice asked, she sat the vague outline of a head as it peered over the edge of the bed at her. She didn't know what to do; no words could be formed in her mouth. "Hermione, are you okay?" The voice asked again, this time with some concern.
Who was this person? She couldn't remember ever sleeping with anyone, and she had never woken before with this person at her side. In fact, she couldn't remember anything. When the realisation hit her she went rigid with shock, her whole body felt cold. What was going on? Who am I?
"Hermione, what's wrong?" The figure got up and slipped off the bed sheets, walking around to where she sat on the thickly carpeted floor. "Hermione?" There was some fear in his tone. His. Who was this stranger?
"Hi." She said weakly. Her voice sounded as if it hadn't been used in years; hoarse and weak.
The figure rushed to her side at the sound of her voice, taking her arm in a firm grip, "Hermione?" She jumped at his touch; her skin was so cold in contrast to his warmth.
Hermione. She remembered – it was her name. "Yes?" The room was silent as he looked at her closely.
"I thought I was dreaming." He whispered to her.
She sat up properly and crossed her legs; looking at her hand which felt empty for some reason. "Where is my wand?" The words tumbled out of their own accord; it took her a moment to process what she had really said. I'm a witch.
"What?" His disbelieving voice sounded so familiar to her, why couldn't she name him?
"My wand," She told him, "Where is it?"
He grasped her shoulder, making her jump again, "You want your wand?"
"Yes, I'm a witch am I not?" She replied.
She saw his head nod, "I can't believe it." He said softly, before getting up and walking over to the window. He seemed to rummage through a draw in the desk for a moment. "What do you remember?" He asked suddenly.
Hermione stood up slowly and tried to look around in the near-darkness. "Nothing." She admitted. Then after a pause, "I don't remember you."
She heard the clatter of wood against wood as he dropped her wand. He was frozen and she felt the air suddenly change, filled with his disbelief and sadness. "You don't?" His voice was now strained.
Hermione walked up to him at the desk and looked out the window. She saw an expanse of grass, scattered with tall trees and a pond further away. Suddenly, she was struck by a memory of this place; standing right here next to this man.
"You have a lovely home Malfoy." She smiled as he handed her a glass of wine.
"Thank you." He replied, sipping from his own glass. They stood together looking at the grounds that surrounded the Manor.
"Why did you call me here?" She asked suddenly.
He put his glass down on the desk beside the window and leaned casually against the edge. "I thought you might benefit from some time off Granger."
"Time off what? There is no holiday from war." She snapped.
He shrugged, "But there is a holiday from responsibility, isn't there?"
She shook her head, "No, it's always there."
"Always the noble one Granger." He smirked.
She felt her frustration mingle with curiosity as he continued to smirk at her, "What do you want Malfoy?"
"Honestly Granger?" He stood up properly and shrugged, "I don't want much."
She chuckled, "When has a Malfoy ever 'not wanted much'?"
He smiled slightly, "True; but I'm different."
"Really? I find that hard to believe, you may not want much, but it will be one very pricy thing." She told him, taking another drink.
He turned away and walked around the room slowly, "Maybe it is; I'm not too sure."
"It must be if you want it." She said.
He nodded, "That is true."
"So what is it you want?" she persisted.
He approached and stopped just a foot from her, "You."
"Malfoy." Hermione said the name without knowing she had spoken aloud. Beside her, he started, "You're Malfoy." She said.
He nodded, "Yes I am." They stood still for a while before she walked to the bed and sat down, feeling suddenly weak.
"Hermione," He said, "Are you sure you can't remember me at all?"
She flopped back and sighed, "No, I can't."
He approached her with some caution, "So you have no idea who I am?"
"I know you." She said, sitting up suddenly, "but not really. You're someone I feel I should know but…I don't."
He knelt down in front of her, peering up at her face, "Do you want to know who I am?"
"Why can't I remember on my own?" She frowned.
He waved his own wand and suddenly they were bathed in light. She stared at him and he was looking carefully at her.
She was surprised at how familiar he appeared to her. He had platinum blonde hair and blue-grey eyes that were currently fixed upon her face. His body was slim, that of an athlete. His fingers that were curved around his wand were long and elegant. The pale shade of his skin seemed to strike some sort of bell in her head. But there was nothing she could make out clearly.
"There was a war." He stated bluntly. "And we were in it."
Nothing. She didn't remember the war or any 'we'. "We fought?"
"Yes, fought." He nodded slightly, "but you were hurt."
She frowned, "So I lost my memory?"
"Yes, though apparently not your intelligence." He said with a small smile.
Hermione found herself smiling back, as if it was the most natural thing to do. "So why are you here?"
He took a deep breath and looked away, trying to compose himself she reckoned. After a while of silence he turned back to her and gave her a weak, lop-sided smile, "I'm your husband."
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Draco thought it was one of those pleasant dreams when he felt Hermione stir. He had spent a lot of time with her during the war; attempting to learn all that he could about the Order. And yet he found himself unable to relay anything important to his Lord.
She had trusted him after some time, even though they both knew he was working for the Dark Lord. It was something in the air when they conversed; it told them that what passed between them while they were alone didn't concern everything else in their lives.
For nearly six months, he had invited her to his home regularly, for dinner. They spoke of the war at first; all the terrible losses each side had suffered since they last met. Sometimes they would argue, exchanging snappish banter about how tactless the other had been. She often said that he was too smart to lead the Death Eaters, and he often said she was far too intelligent to be ordered around by the great Harry Potter.
As they got to know each other though, he found that they talked less of the war and more about each other; childhoods, friends, experiences. He had been surprised to discover that she wasn't always sure of herself. She had fears and concerns that she didn't allow the outside world to see, but she had shown him. They had spoken of school, somehow leaving out the hatred that had existed between them.
There was a battle further abroad and she had gone. He never told her to stay or cautioned her about being careful; it wasn't his job after all. But inside he had willed that she would be alright and when she returned, they could continue to have dinner together. It wasn't until two months later that he finally heard about her injury, she had been kept away from the battles and although she had made a fine recovery, Potter was reluctant to let her back into the field. He realised there was at least one thing he agreed on with Potter.
Knowing that her every move was being watched, there was an understanding that they couldn't contact each other. He continued to fight for the Dark Lord, though he managed to wriggle his way out of battles involving Potter and his gang. He never knew if she would be there.
It was when he was dining by himself one evening when he received an owl from her, announcing her arrival in a few minutes. He quickly ordered the elves to prepare another plate for her. She stepped through with an expression of relief and hugged him. He was surprised, but not unpleasantly so, by her actions. They had dinner together, continuously talking, though never mentioning her injury.
"I missed you." She admitted after a while. He had gaped at her, speechless. Then he had asked, simply randomly. It had come out without any real thought and there were times when he thought her answer must have come out the same way.
"Marry me."
"Of course."
Such an exchange left the silence between them slightly awkward. But soon she grinned and kissed him senseless, "I can't believe I'm marrying a Malfoy." She had whispered as her head rested in his shoulder.
He honestly couldn't believe it either as they had a quiet wedding, nothing elaborate, just a signing of forms and a sharing of champagne with each other. The secrecy created a sense of excitement but also danger. He knew what was in store for them both if either side discovered them. So they kept it quiet; their act of rebellion.
It wasn't long before they were separated, sent on missions. They didn't know until they were right there, staring with shock into each others eyes, that they had been sent after each other. A wild goose chase to escape from the person they loved ensued. She found him eventually; she was titled the most intelligent witch of her age after all. He never had the heart to truly evade her for long.
They stood facing each other after the first initial face off, and sat there for a long time. Neither saying anything, just staring; it was a hopeless situation. The Death Eaters came then, blasting anything that came in their path, including her.
He had no way of warning her, of trying to save her. For one entire week he lived with the knowledge that it was he who had led her to her death. He didn't even have the courage to send her off valiantly. He hated himself for that.
Potter came to him while he was walking unarmed down a London street, hoping someone would take all this pain and regret away.
"Malfoy." He heard him say, he was serious but not threatening. "Malfoy, I know about you and Hermione." He said.
"Good on you Potter." He had snapped in reply, in no mood at all to converse with The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die.
"She's alive; I thought you should know." And he disappeared into the crowd or simply apparating back home. Draco didn't know; he was in too much shock to register what was going on around him.
A week later he was standing at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, a waiting judgement from those he hated. He thought that he must be going insane if he was willing to go through all of this for one woman, a woman he had be taught to hate.
"Welcome Malfoy." Harry said with a tired smile. He didn't smile back, but shook his hand before making his way upstairs to her room.
She lay on a bed in the centre of a rather empty room, her face pale, her skin wrapped tightly around her cheek bones. He stroked her hand with his finger, feeling her fragile bones under the skin that had become so thin. He didn't know how long he stood there staring at her but in all that time, she didn't move a muscle, not at all.
It was a spontaneous decision to take her back to the Manor, many were against it but he was a persistent man. Eventually, satisfied with the level of security at the Manor, they allowed him to move her to his home. It wasn't long after she had taken up a space in the Manor that the war ended, leaving him to watch her every day in peace.
And some nights, like this particular one, he fell asleep at her side. He often had dreams that she would wake up and smile softly at him, asking why his clothes were so rumpled or some other unrelated question.
He honestly thought it was another one of those dreams when she woke up. It frightened him a bit though, when she didn't speak. She always spoke to him in his dreams, he was afraid it meant she was truly gone; some sort of sign.
When he heard her say "hi" he felt his heart leap out of his chest. She seemed to jump away from his touch, her skin cold and slightly clammy. He was sure his heart broke when she said she didn't remember him.
It was some sort of nightmare; how could she forget him? After all they had been through together to get through the war alive, he had been repaid by this?
It was a bit of a relief to tell her he was her husband, she was shocked and surprised. He could see it in her features; the disbelief.
"But you're Draco Malfoy." She finally gasped. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.
"You remember?" He asked eagerly.
She looked carefully at him, "Yes; you're the enemy."
He raised an eyebrow, "The war is over Hermione, we're no longer enemies."
"How could I marry someone that was my enemy?" She wondered out loud.
He shrugged, "It's difficult to explain, but we did."
She suddenly closed her eyes and fell into his arms. He caught her, quickly checking that she was breathing. "Hermione?" No reaction. He laid her carefully on the bed, now wide awake and too full of thoughts to go to sleep.
After a while of contemplation, he lit the fire the threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. He knelt down and put his head in the fire, "Grimmauld Place!" He said clearly.
Potter's face came into view as his head reached the lounge of headquarters. He seemed concerned, "Malfoy? What's the meaning of this?"
"Potter," Draco began quickly, "She woke up."
Harry's eye's were as wide as saucers, "Is she alright?"
"Well, she passed out." Draco told him, "But she was awake and…" He didn't know what to say.
"Are you alright Draco?" Harry asked, sitting in front of him.
He shrugged, "I don't know. But I had no idea what to do."
Harry nodded, "Can I come over to see her?"
"If you want." Draco shrugged again before taking his head out of the fire and awaiting Harry's arrival a few seconds later.
"You've got a way of getting people out of bed Malfoy." He commented as he dusted ash off his clothing.
"It wasn't my real intention." Draco replied absentmindedly.
"So did she say anything while she was awake?" Harry asked, looking over at Hermione's sleeping form.
"Yes," Draco nodded, "She had forgotten everything."
Harry nodded, "The medi-witch said that might happen if she woke up."
"But she was beginning to remember." He continued, "She remembered my name and that we were enemies."
"She knew her name?"
"I don't think she did at first," Draco frowned and stood up, "But in the end she must have realised."
Harry touched her hand softly, "I hope she wakes up again soon."
Draco watched Harry's tenderness towards her; he wondered if anyone would care that much about him if he and Hermione were in opposite places – probably not.
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Hermione felt the pull of something familiar. All around her was a grey mist, leaving her unable to see anything clearly. She could make out shapes, large shadows with no real shape.
As she tried to near these shapes they seemed to drift away or simply dissolve into the air. She got increasingly frustrated when nothing seemed to stay around long enough for her to make out what it was. That was when she saw the figure of a person, it was moving; walking.
"Hello?" She heard herself ask, but no sound came out. As the figure came closer she was enclosed in an invisible bubble. It took her up and warmed her right to her heart. The figure continued to approach and she became aware of many thoughts and emotions swirling around her. It occurred to her that these belonged to the figure.
Eager to find out more before they disappeared, she grasped at the thoughts and found memories – of her. She was baffled by the waves of sorrow that cascaded over her, stronger and stronger each time as the figure drew nearer.
It wasn't until she saw a pair of fine leather shoes, nearly touching her own, that she looked up. The mist was gone, he was there looking down at her. His eyes were clouded with hope; barely concealed by a layer of fear.
"Draco Malfoy." She said, this time it came out, echoing around them.
"Yes." He replied, his voice soft and full of relief. He reached out and put his hand close to her face. She could feel the heat of his hand against her skin, but he didn't touch her. Instead he turned and made to walk away.
"Wait!" She cried out, "Where are you going?"
He turned and smiled genuinely at her, "Home; are you coming?" He didn't wait for her answer, just continuing to walk away.
She hesitated for a second before lifting her feet and dashing after his disappearing form. "Draco! Draco, wait!" He was right in front of her, she reached out and took his hand and everything went black.
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"Are you really planning to stay here all night Draco?" Hermione Malfoy stood in the door way of Draco Malfoy's study. He looked up, realising it was nearly midnight and that he had been working for nearly five hours straight.
The woman standing in his doorway caught his attention and he looked at her with an expression of calm on his face. She was standing in his doorway. Thank you Merlin for giving me another chance. He thought with a smile.
"Draco?" Hermione stepped into the study and shut the door, "Are you alright?"
He was brought to attention by her voice, loving the sound of it in his home again, "I'm fine." He answered, "Aren't you tired?"
She shook her head as she sat opposite him, "No, I was wondering if you were."
He slipped the parchment he was writing on into the draw of his desk, "A bit."
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked.
He shook his head, continuing to marvel at how good it felt to have her talking to him, sitting here; with him. "I think I'll just go to bed, are you coming?"
"Where are you going?"
"Home; are you coming?"
She smiled, "Yes, I believe I am."
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