I couldn't help but feel guilty. Sure, he was the selfish git who had tormented me for being born to muggle parents and he was partially responsible for Dumbledore's death and it had been he who had landed Harry and Ron in Azkaban for a couple of months, but he had proven himself to be worthy of our trust. Not only had he led us right to Voldemort's lair, but he had found the last horcrux as well. Still, he was a Slytherin, and I therefore didn't trust him.
I had seen the group of Death Eaters approaching him, but my main concern at the moment had been getting my friends out of there safe and sound. How horrible it would have been for me, the responsible and dependable Hermione Granger, Head Girl at Hogwarts and now one of the Ministry's top Aurors, to have to explain to the Weasleys, who had taken Harry and myself on as honorary children, why their children were either dead or in intensive care at St. Mungo's. I could have warned him, but I didn't think I could afford to take the time to do so. I had been in the middle of defending Ginny from Bellatrix Lestrange and warning him would have distracted me, possibly leading to Ginny or me sustaining an injury. I'm not trying to justify what happened; I just want to get all of the facts out first.
Anyway, so I had time to warn him, but I didn't. Next thing I know, he was crouched on the ground, bleeding and moaning in pain. Ron and Harry tried to get him up, while I called for help. That's when he collapsed. Just fell right onto the ground, I swear. And I rarely ever swear. Then Harry had suggested one of us get him to St. Mungo's while the others stayed to fight off the rest of Death Eaters. The safest thing to have done would have been to send Ginny because she had no training whatsoever on how to duel with Death Eaters nor how to defend herself against advanced Dark Magic unless you counted her seven years at Hogwarts and the private lessons she had received from Harry, which I don't. Theory and practicing in school with classmates who are learning alongside you aren't the same as dueling in the real world. But Harry wanted to keep her close so he could look after her. He didn't want her to get hurt, the obvious reason being because he loved her. That dwindled our options down to Ron and me.
I still can't remember exactly how I ended up being chosen to bring Draco Malfoy into the hospital, but I do recall Ron and I playing Rock, Paper, Scissors and us arguing after I'd lost to him twice in a row. I know what you're thinking: how selfish of them not to care that one of their own comrades could have been dying. It's not that I didn't care. It's just that I surely didn't want to be the one to have to spend the night in the hospital with Draco Malfoy of all people! He made my life a living hell while I was at Hogwarts. He's one of the only two people who have ever made me cry (the other being Ron, the current love of my life) and I'm pretty sure he's the only person I've ever smacked or punched or whatever you'd call that hit I gave him when we were in our third year. He hates me and I hate him. The epitome of animosity. It would have been worse if I had liked him and he had hated me, which I don't. Our arrangement works out just fine. Or at least it had until today.
So there I was, seated beside Draco Malfoy's death bed, praying that if he dies I won't have to be the one to explain to his friends (if he had any) or family (the ones that weren't in Azkaban as of yet) what had happened to him. I had been waiting for what felt like days. I'd been so bored, I'd resorted to counting how many patients walked past his room and trying to guess what was wrong with them. In just one day, I had seen Pansy Parkinson who apparently had put her hand inside an alligator's mouth in an attempt to retrieve her wand (how it got in there in the first place still remains a mystery), Blaise Zabini who had attempted to cast a charm to keep him and his girlfriend warm while staying in Siberia and had accidentally set himself on fire, and even Fred and George who were here so often I gave up trying to guess what potion had exploded on them now. Needless to say, I needed some entertainment. If I had to sit there for another hour, watching Malfoy snore, I swear to Merlin I was going to stab someone.
"Excuse me," a voice said. I looked up to see if Malfoy had spoken, signifying that he was all right and that I could leave already. But, alas, it was only Mrs. Longbottom, Neville's grandmother.
"Yes?" I said trying to hide my disappointment.
"You went to school with my Neville, didn't you?" I nodded slowly. "Lovely boy, isn't he? Or man, I should say. God, I'm still not used to him being a man. He just grew up so fast. One minute I was changing his diapers and the next he was graduating from that school. He's made me so proud. So very proud." She stopped to dab her tears away with a handkerchief. Merlin, could she get to the point already? I get it, it's a miracle the boy ever grew, as clumsy as he is. I'm was in no the mood to discuss what kind of man Neville Longbottom had become. All I cared about at the moment was that the man lying beside me would either wake up or die already so I can go back and help defeat Voldemort. That must sound really awful, but I didn't care. My hand itched and I felt like dueling some Death Eaters, not watching someone die.
"I know I should let you get back to worrying over your fiancé. You two make such a lovely couple by the way," Mrs. Longbottom said as she winked at me. For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. Ron wasn't anywhere in sight and how would she know about our engagement anyway? I looked down at the ring he had gotten me and then realized I was sitting next to Draco Malfoy. Surely she couldn't think that...?
"Oh no. He's not-," I started to say. But she shook her head and cut me off.
"I know, dear. He'll be alright. I didn't mean to worry you so. I was just going to ask you if this is my grandson. I'm not wearing my glasses, so I can't make out much of his features. It looks like him," she said as she pointed to another hospital bed. I blinked once, then twice. Surely the old woman wasn't so senile that now she had to resort to asking strangers whether or not the body lying on the bed was that of her own grandson's. I rolled my eyes and walked over. I had no idea what had put me in such a sour mood, but it didn't seem to want to go away any time soon. Well, actually that's not true. I knew exactly what had put me in such a bad mood: my friends got to fight while I sat at the sidelines, not even getting to watch the outcome.
I stood next to Mrs. Longbottom and nodded that it was in fact Neville. God only knew what he was in for and I did feel a little sorry for him. The poor boy was so clumsy, it was no wonder he was always getting into some sort of accident. Mrs. Longbottom talked for a few minutes and I remained there listening to stories of Neville's other catastrophes. I felt so terrible for my impatience with her earlier that I engaged her in a few stories from our Hogwarts days. I awed her with Neville's bravery during our fifth year when we escaped from a skirmish with Voldemort at the Ministry's Department of Mysteries and I shocked her by telling her how Neville had stood up to a group of Death Eaters who had broken into our school our seventh year. Mrs. Longbottom listened on, stopping me every so often to press for details. I had made her grandson out to be a hero, which I suppose we all are now. Courage makes a hero and it takes a lot of courage to go into battle knowing there was a good chance you wouldn't return.
It was then I heard a small groan. I looked over toward Malfoy's bed and saw his hand move. I excused myself and walked over to his bed. He opened both of his eyes and stared right into my eyes.
"Are you all right? Can you hear me? Do I need to get the doctor?" I asked as I fluffed his pillow. I suddenly felt nervous and giddy. He was alive and he seemed to be well. Maybe he could come back with me to fight some more Death Eaters...It was then I noticed his blank stare. He just kept looking up at me as if this were the first time we had met. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. I gave a small sigh. Looks like he wouldn't be returning to fight after all...
"Yes, yes, and perhaps," he finally responded after a moment. "But before you get the doctor, can you tell me what happened? Why I am here? And where is here? And who I am, while you're at it."
"Certainly. You were attacked by a group of Death Eaters while we were trying to destroy Voldemort once and for all. We found you bleeding on the ground and so I, er, volunteered to bring you to the hospital. St. Mungo's to be exact. And-," I stopped myself. Did he ask who he was? My mouth hung open for a moment. Then I jumped up running around for the doctor. "Dr. Stevens! Dr. Stevens!" I called out as I ran into the hall. The doctor quickly came into the room to examine Malfoy.
"What happened?" he demanded. I began to ramble, not sure of what to do or say next.
"He can't remember who he is! He can't remember anything! He needs a potion or a charm or something. Do something!" Dr. Stevens merely rose an eyebrow and turned towards Malfoy.
"Let's try this again. What happened?" Malfoy shrugged as he kept watching me out of the corner of his eye. Or at least I thought he was.
"I just woke up and I can't remember anything. I asked her to tell me where I was, why I was here, and who I was and she just started...doing that," he said as he pointed at me. I had managed to calm down. This can be solved. We are in a magical hospital with thousands of well trained healers and physicians on hand. One of them is bound to know how to fix whatever's wrong. Right?
"Hmm, I see." Dr. Stevens noted something on Malfoy's chart without revealing anything else. What? What does he see? I don't see anything! "Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy, you were hit with some high level Inuiria, which is a Dark potion for which there in no known cure. The good news is, some people manage a full recovery of their memory all on their own."
"Really? How?" I asked. I'm always curious about new spells and potions. In fact, more often than not, I can be found mixing potions at the Ministry then training for battle. Some, including myself, would argue learning to make potions is a form of training.
"By going on with their daily routines. He should keep doing everything he would normally do such as going to work, running errands, visiting friends. Since routines are something people do every day of their lives, people who suffer from full blown amnesia are more likely to remember the routines than any thing else," Dr. Stevens said as he turned to look at me. I looked past him at Malfoy for a second. He seemed really confused and if I were in his position, I would be as well. How is he supposed to return to his daily routines if he couldn't even remember them? "Now, since Mr. Malfoy has no family, we're going to have to find him someone to help him figure out his identity." We? We? What's this we business? I hope he's not including me in that we because I need to get back to the war. I'm needed on the battlefield! And so's Malfoy for that matter. I was just about to tell Dr. Stevens this when I heard Mrs. Longbottom interrupt from across the room.
"Oh, she could do it," she said. What did she just say? "They're engaged you know," Mrs. Longbottom added with a wink. I wanted to vomit. I could literally feel the tuna sandwich I had earlier coming back up my esophagus. It was the burning sensation that caused me not to contradict her. After all, how could I possibly keep my lunch down and speak at the same time?
"Splendid! I'll be right back with the paper work you'll need to fill out." Dr. Stevens quickly retreated from the room. I needed to sit down. Malfoy and I engaged? And now I have to take care of him? What Ron would say? He'd probably kill Malfoy and then give me a tongue lashing as well. These next few months were bound to be difficult. Especially if I had to spend them with Malfoy.
"Engaged, eh?" Malfoy asked. And that's when I saw it. His infamous smirk. Even when he couldn't remember who he was, he could still remember his smirk. God, I wanted to smack him so badly. But I restrained myself. I didn't want to get arrested for something as silly as slapping Malfoy. But I could set the record straight.
"Let's get one thing straight." I sat back down in the chair beside him and turned to face him. "We are not engaged. I repeat, we are not engaged!" Malfoy just sat there, nodding like a bobble head.
"Then what's that ring on your finger for?" he asked incredulously. I held out my hand for him.
"I am engaged. But not to you," I quickly added. "I'm engaged to someone you despise. Actually, I think he and I are the top two people you despise. Scratch that. Harry's the first, I'm the second. My fiancé, Ron, is the third." Again, he just nodded.
"And why do I hate you all, exactly?" he asked after a minute or two of silence. I shrugged.
"Harry you hate because he was more popular than you at Hogwarts, that's the school we all went to together for seven years, even though you had more money than him. You hate Ron because he's friends with Harry. And you hate me because I'm friends with them and because I'm of muggle descent," I replied coolly as I drummed my fingers on the dresser beside my chair. This stroll down memory lane certainly was not my idea of fun.
"And what's wrong with that?" he asked. I stared at him.
"What's wrong with what?" I asked.
"With being of muggle descent," he asked as he sat up. I was stunned at his words. Had Draco Malfoy seriously just asked me that question? Pinch me, I must be dreaming. Then again, why would I be dreaming of Malfoy?
"Well, you see a muggle is person who doesn't have magic. And both of my parents are muggles yet I am a witch," I explained. That had to be it. He didn't remember what a muggle was.
"I know what the word means. I can remember that much. I meant, what's wrong with having muggles for parents?" I was too shocked to speak. On second thought, maybe these next few months wouldn't be so bad after all. I could teach him to become a decent human being, you know, one who didn't want to enslave elves and wasn't prejudice against those he considered to be of tainted blood.
"I...I don't know. You've just always hated me for that," I finally managed to say.
"That's stupid reason to hate someone. It's not your fault your parents are what they are," he said. Before I could open my mouth to agree, Dr. Stevens walked in. He handed me some release forms to sign and handed Malfoy the clothes he had been wearing when I brought him in, though they were in shreds now.
"Perhaps Ms...," Dr. Stevens said looking at me.
"Granger," I supplied.
"Yes. Maybe Ms. Granger could stop by your flat and pick up some new clothes for you," Dr. Stevens continued. I arched a brow as I pulled out my wand.
"Reparo," I said and the clothes were instantly stitched back together.
"That also works," Dr. Stevens said. I stepped into the hallway to wait for Malfoy while he changed and spoke with Dr. Stevens. I tried to sit patiently, but I was too worried about the others. What if they were hurt? What if Malfoy had been wrong about Voldemort's whereabouts? What if he had led them into a trap? I began to pace up and down the hallway. On my way back down the third time, I tripped and fell flat on my face.
"Ow," I muttered as Malfoy stood before me laughing. That stupid git. He tripped me! I slapped him on his arm, careful not to hit a bruise.
"Ouch," he mocked. "That hurt so much," he smirked.
"How is it that even without your memory you still manage to be an arrogant prat?" I wondered out loud.
"Arrogant prat? I have done nothing to earn such a title. Yet," he added with a grin. I stopped dead in my tracks. Did Draco Malfoy just grin at me? I looked behind me to check if Pansy Parkinson hadn't somehow managed to get the alligator off of her already and was standing behind me, mocking my every move. But she wasn't. In fact, there was no one standing there. Just me. "What? What's wrong?" I shook my head.
"Nothing, it's just that you've...nothing," I said more definitively.
"What? Tell me. I'm supposed to do what I normally do, right?" I nodded. "And besides, if we're going to be spending so much time with each other, you might as well clear the air now." I slowly nodded until I realized what he had just said.
"What do you mean, 'so much time together'?" He merely shrugged and muttered something about Dr. Stevens saying I'd have to be with him nearly 24/7 until he had fully recovered.
"What?!" I shrieked. He covered my mouth and shushed me as passerbys stared after us. "What do you mean, 24/7? I have a life, you know. What will Ron think if he finds out I have to move in with you? What will Harry say? What will by parents say? And the neighbors! What will they make of all of this? I can just hear the gossip mill turning now!"
"Calm down. What we need right now is a nice plate of food and a nap. You're probably just cranky from staying up all night," Malfoy commented as he tugged me towards the hospital exit.
"All night?" I asked. Malfoy nodded slowly. "I did stay there all night, didn't I? All right, will do it your way," I said as I grabbed onto his hand and concentrated on his flat.
"Wait! What are you doing?" he asked. Oh, that's right. I have to explain everything to him now.
"I'm going to apparate us to your flat." I took his arm again, but he held it back.
"Why not yours?" he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Because you have your own flat while I share a house with Ginny and Luna." Exasparated, I took his arm again. He snatched it back. "For Merlin's sake, what is it now?" I was really getting annoyed.
"Nothing. I just wanted to see your reaction," he smirked. Maybe I was wrong. Draco Malfoy minus memory still left you with a total asshole. These next few months were going to be a doozy.