A/N: How is Hermione going to deal with Draco's "situation?" Keep reading!
Hermione gasped and turned around quickly. She just stood there for a moment, catching her breath and composing herself. Healer Pye gave her a sympathetic look and Draco coughed from the bed, reminding Hermione that she must do her job.
"Hello there. My name is Hermione Granger, and your name is Draco Malfoy. You have suffered the effects of multiple rogue memory-loss spells, and I am here to help you regain your memory. Is there anything you remember at all?"
Draco's face contorted in thought, struggling through the medicinal haze.
"Yes," he said after a minute or two, sounding just as surprised with himself as Hermione was. "I remember magic. You know, spells and such."
Hermione nodded. This was often the case in magical memory loss; a witch or wizard would be stripped of all memories except a basic knowledge of magic.
"Great," she said, trying to be enthusiastic. "Now, I'm going to step outside and talk to Healer Pye for a moment while you wake up a bit more. Is there anything else you need?"
"No, thank you," said Draco, and waved the pair off into the hall.
As soon as they got out of the room, Hermione let out a great sigh and her face crumpled.
"Nothing. He doesn't remember a bloody thing. Not about his childhood, Hogwarts, us…" She trailed off.
Healer Pye looked anxiously at her face, judging whether she was fit to take on this patient. Would it be too emotionally difficult?
"Don't you even dare think about taking this case away from me," she said pointedly, glaring at Healer Pye with the look of womanly determination. "I will find out what happened to him. I will find out how to reverse the spells' damage, and I will get his memory back."
Once Hermione had her mind set on something, there was no going back, and Healer Pye knew this well. He decided that her emotional interest might even speed up Draco's recovery process—if anything would.
"Alright Miss Granger, but you must be warned not to get your hopes up too high. Mr. Malfoy may never regain his memory. The best you might get is to manually restore his memory bit by bit…" Another sharp glare from Hermione cut him off abruptly.
"Thank you Healer Pye, and I assure you, I will do my very best." She gave Healer Pye a sweet smile and strode confidently back into Draco's room.
"Hello again, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said to Draco. "I'm just going to do a few quick tests and ask a couple of questions if that's alright. Are you quite comfortable then?"
"Yes, yes," replied Draco. "And, you can call me Draco. Mr. Malfoy sounds like,"
Like you're in a hospital being treated by a complete stranger instead of the woman who completely and totally loves you? Hermione thought bitterly to herself.
"Like I'm in school again. Did I go to school?" questioned Draco.
"Yes," said Hermione. "You attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for seven years. Graduated with top marks. Now, before we get carried away, I'm going to run through my questions, and then we can get back to yours."
"Right," said Draco. "Ok then, what's first?"
"First we're going to run a few basic memory tests," explained Hermione, "which will determine the full extent of your knowledge and memory. Some of these tests will provide trigger words or images that we hope will spur some of your memories. You see, in traumatic events such as these, the memories are often still present, but are simply hiding in a different part of the brain, so to speak."
"That's a lot to take in, but I trust you. You seem to know what you're doing." Draco looked admiringly at Hermione.
"I do what I can," replied Hermione modestly.
"So, will you be administering these tests?" asked Draco.
"No. I do not have the training or specialization to deal in such matters, but I assure you I will closely monitor the results. You have nothing to worry about." Hermione reassured Draco, as he had begun to look anxious.
The relief on Draco's face was evident. Thanks to the memory curses, he was no longer the cold, unreachable Draco Malfoy, with the steel-plated armor. He was unguarded and wholly reliant on others. It was a rare form, even for Hermione, to see.
"How long will the tests take?" Draco was very inquisitive, also an uncommon sight.
"In order to give time for the results to be analyzed and compiled you, unfortunately, will have to spend a large part of the day on these tests."
There was a knock on the door. A Trainee Healer could be seen silhouetted in the glass window.
"Ah, and here is your escort," said Hermione with a pleasant smile. "Come in, Ethan!"
Ethan, the Trainee Healer opened the door and walked into the room, but stood near the doorway apprehensively.
"Draco, this is Trainee Healer Ethan. He will be taking you to the testing rooms and guiding you throughout the rest of the day. I trust you both will treat each other with utmost respect?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at both men, and they nodded solemnly, as if in primary school again.
"But wait," protested Draco. "Aren't you coming back, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Draco, but I do have other patients that need to be taken care of. Having favorites just wouldn't do, would it?" She tweaked his chin like a young child and he was temporarily sated.
"I will be back tomorrow to check on your progress," said Hermione, before she marched out of the room with professional efficiency.
Hermione walked back down the long hallway to the reception room, almost rushing right past Isobel when she heard her name.
"Hermione. Wait!" Isobel was running up beside her, almost out of breath. "What was it? What happened?"
"Draco." Hermione gasped out. "Isobel, it was Draco. Draco was hit by rogue memory spells. He doesn't remember anything. Nothing at all. I have to go tell his mother. Tell Healer Pye."
Hermione's sentences were short and choppy. Having fulfilled her duty as a Healer, Hermione's calm composure was threatening to crumple, and she needed to get out of St. Mungo's before it did.
Luckily, Isobel understood and sent her on her way with a sympathetic look and a promise to explain to Healer Pye.
Hermione apparated as soon as she reached the perimeter of St. Mungo's and found herself in a small muggle neighborhood. The buildings were somewhat rundown and shabby, but underneath the grit and filth were beautiful architectural structures boasting of grander times.
Walking straight up to the third house on the right, Hermione mentally prepared herself for the speech she was about to give. How was she to go about telling Narcissa that her only son—only child—had lost all of his memory, and she was the only one available to fix it? It's impossible, she thought, and started to turn around.
"Yoo-hoo, Hermione!" A voice from the third floor window beckoned her.
Cassiopeia, Narcissa's other sister, was hidden from the wizarding world upon the discovery of her Squib status. Cassiopeia was nothing like her sisters. Shunned from her family at an early age, Cassiopeia was not subjected to the pressure of success from her family and status; she was free to live an almost uninhibited life. Narcissa, not wanting to live in Malfoy Manor alone, with the ghosts of its past haunting her, had moved in with her sister, both of whom had visited Hermione and Draco frequently.
"Hello Cassiopeia," called Hermione. "Is Narcissa home?"
"Why of course," cried Cassiopeia. "She's just downstairs! Should I tell her you're here?"
Cassiopeia was also bit eccentric in her speech and mannerisms.
"No need," replied Hermione. "Thank you."
Hermione strode up to the weathered wooden door and knocked confidently on it. Before long, she could hear footsteps approaching the door, and then it opened, revealing Narcissa Malfoy.
In the years immediately following the end of the war, Narcissa had had to deal with a husband fighting imprisonment in Azkaban, a son in desperate need of emotional counseling, and an empire that was crumbling around it. Hermione still remembered the first time she met Narcissa as Draco's girlfriend. Narcissa was impossibly thin, and her once beautiful hair was thin and limp. Dark shadows were ever-present on Narcissa's face, and she seemed to be decades older than she really was. Now looking at her, Hermione could see the benefits of living with Cassiopeia. Narcissa's slight frame had filled out, and her hair was now long and healthy. The dark circles were gone, and the only wrinkles on her face were those from her brilliant and frequent smiles.
"Hermione," Narcissa cooed, her face melting into one of those smiles at the sight of her son's girlfriend.
"Narcissa," Hermione returned, less warmly and with more seriousness; this was not a pleasure visit.
"Please," said Narcissa. "Come in." She opened the door wider and beckoned Hermione into the cheerful home.
Hermione entered.
"Would you like to sit down?" asked Narcissa.
"Yes, I do think that would be better," replied Hermione. "Now, Narcissa, I didn't come here for a visit. I have some, news that you need to know."
Narcissa's face fell as she grasped the gravity of the situation. She had always feared that this would one day happen. She didn't expect the informant to be Hermione, but what did it matter. At least she was practically family, right?
"It's Lucius, isn't it," she asked. "Someone, in Azkaban. He's dead?" Her question was more of a statement, but was unconfirmed as Hermione shook her head solemnly.
"No, no, Lucius isn't dead. Narcissa, Draco was hit by several rogue memory spells and currently does not have any memories. He is at St. Mungo's while we try to recover his memories. I was just informed of this this morning, and I figured that you would also like to know. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened."
With that, Narcissa dissolved into grief, and burst out into body-racking sobs. The display of emotion brought tears to Hermione's own eyes, but she refrained from crying herself. She had to be strong for Narcissa. Draco was her only child, and the light of her world.
"I'm doing everything I can to restore his memories, trust me. I'm sorry, Narcissa. I'll be back if there's any more news."
Hermione left the crying woman at the kitchen table and exited the house. Just before she apparated, she heard Narcissa's cry of anguish, "Draco!"
Arriving back at her flat, Hermione was too emotionally exhausted to do anything but heat some food from the previous night, satisfy her undernourished body, and sink into bed for another night of restless sleep.
A/N: Yay! You've made it to the end of Chapter 3! I feel like I have a lot to explain, a few questions to clear up, etc.
First: Hermione and Draco's relationship. They were boyfriend and girlfriend (serious) and were just living together. They were not married (yet? (; )
Next: Narcissa. I tried to explain this the best I could in the story, but here's a more plain version. She lived in Malfoy Manor until Draco moved out and Lucius was in Azkaban, then she moved in with her "sister" (not part of HP, just something I made up.) Her sister is a squib, so she was thrown out of the family and made to live and grow up by herself. Therefore, she is much nicer, though a little quirky.
With that all cleared up, I realized that there really have not been a lot of old characters (i.e. Harry, Ginny, Ron) in this fic so far, but don't worry, they will be making an appearance in the next chapter. These first three chapters have all been pretty much setting up the story line so it can develop further.
I would also like to give a recognition to slytherinprincess9712, who reviewed chapter 2 of this story asking me to update. And I did. So if you would like me to update faster, please review, because it really inspires me and lets me know that you guys like it.
Sorry for the long A/N, but thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
