A/N: Okay, in this chapter, we see some Draco and Hermione awkwardness, which I just love to write :) You've guys been really awesome with the story alerts...
But please review! :)
In the Malfoy Manor, there was an uproar.
"But, it isn't Draco's fault!"
"Silence, Narcissa!" hissed Voldemort, sitting atop his chair at the head of the table. Narcissa cried and ran out of the room, unable to maintain her emotions. She didn't know how Voldemort planned to get her son's memory back, and frankly, she didn't want to know.
"If I may speak, my Lord, the boy did not plan to lose his memory. And, with your great power, we may most certainly find a way to bring his memory back," said Lucius, tilting his head slightly so as not to look Voldemort straight in the eyes.
"I agree with you, Lucius. However, I am steps ahead of you. You see, I also believe there is a way for Draco to regain his memory. And I have found a soul that is in the perfect position to do so." Narcissa heard this and came quietly back into the room, hindering at the door frame.
"Ah, Narcissa, deem yourself worthy to join us again?" said Voldemort with a sneer. Narcissa looked down, unable to stare at who had taken refugee in their home without permission.
"Forgive her, my Lord," said Lucius, "She is merely a woman, and she is controlled by her emotions, which are now extreme because of the memory loss of our son."
"I didn't ask you to speak for her, Lucius, although I somewhat agree," said Voldemort, "Women have no strength in these matters."
"But my Lord!"
"Bellatrix, you know you are an exception," said Voldemort, the kindest they'd ever heard him speak. "Now, for my plan we required someone. Someone who could get into Hogwarts without being seen. Someone who's already done it one time."
Voldemort snapped his fingers and two Death Eaters brought out a woman, her face covered with a bag. She was shaking in her deep green outfit and violent purple shoes.
"Everyone," said Voldemort, "This woman is the key to Draco's memory and the key to the continuation of my plan."
There was a murmer around the table, because everyone wanted to know who was hidden underneath the bag. As if Voldemort knew this, he flicked his wand and the bag flew off, causing the woman to shriek and cringe in his presence.
This woman, part of Voldemort's new plot, was none other than Rita Skeeter.
Voldemort smiled, his teeth rotten and black. "Imperio," he whispered, casually hitting Rita Skeeter with an unforgivable curse.
Hermione was eating in the Great Hall sitting next to Harry and Ron, who were looking at her quite curiously as she literally stabbed her food.
"Er, Hermione?" asked Ron, being the bravest and trying to find out what was wrong with their friend.
"What?" she asked angrily, slamming her fork down on the table.
"Nothing, nevermind," said Ron quietly, looking at Harry for support.
"What he's trying to say is, we're wondering if you're okay," explained Harry.
"What are you talking about? Of course I'm okay, I'm just fine." The truth was, though, that she wasn't. Hermione wasn't fine ever since she turned around and saw Pansy kiss Draco. She didn't know what came over her, but she felt...something. Something that she didn't like. She had always hated Draco by default, knowing him to be nearly enemies with Harry and a bully to Ron, and even herself sometimes. But now, he was a completely different person. It was as if he had gotten a chance to start over, and she felt different about him. And when he kissed Pansy, Hermione just wanted to...
"Hermione?" asked Ron, waving a hand in front of her eyes. When she didn't respond, Ron turned his head to see where her eyes were looking. To his surprise, and strange disappointment, she was staring directly at Draco Malfoy, who was sitting in the Slytherin table by himself. That is, until Pansy Parkinson swiftly sat down next to him and kissed him on the cheek. That's when Ron heard a clank, and when he looked back, Hermione's fork was stabbed into the table and Hermione was walking quickly out of the Great Hall.
"What's wrong with her?" asked Harry, earnestly worried.
"I dont' know, but I think it has something to do with Malfoy," said Ron, his jealousy inevitably obvious, "And I don't like it."
"Oh come on, Ron," said Harry, "I'm sure Hermione's fine. She's clever, and smart, and great at dueling."
"I know," mumbled Ron, blushing slightly.
"Exactly, mate. So if worst comes to worst, she'll know how to get out of a messy situation," said Harry, patting Ron on the back. "And I doubt she likes Malfoy, who in their right mind would?" he added with a grin that made Ron feel better.
Hermione fidgeted in her chair as she waited for Draco to arrive at the library. When he did, the butterflies in her stomach seemed to multiply and she didn't know how to tell them to shut up. She didn't even know what they were saying. What were they telling her? What did this all mean?
"Hello," he said casually, sitting down and taking out his books. "So, we're in for another boring lesson, are we?"
Hermione gave a little laugh. "I suppose we are."
They sat in silence for a while, until Draco decided to speak. "Are you going to start or-
"SoyouandPansy,huh?" asked Hermione, too fast to stop herself. By the time she had finished she felt completely mortified, trying her best to not just get up and run.
Draco just shrugged. "It's a bit strange to be perfectly honest. I don't know her at all and she just comes up to me and kisses me telling me that she's my girlfriend. I say she's mad, I mean, I'm out of her league and she's much too clingy. Maybe to her it's alright, but I don't fancy her anymore, she's not my type, although she may still think I'm hers."
"Perhaps," said Hermione shyly.
"Perhaps," he agreed, "But I don't see her the way she thinks I do. She's a little, insane, you know? And I think this other guy in my year likes her, Blazini, Bambini-
"Zabini...Blaise, Zabini," she told him quietly.
"That's it," said Draco, "Yeah, Zabini definitely fancies her. He might be better than me for her, I think. I don't know what she sees in me. I'm a bit off my rocker now, aren't I?" he said with a somewhat bitter laugh.
"Oh, no," said Hermione. "You're not off your rocker. It's not your fault that you hit your head. Well, maybe, it is," she added as an afterthought.
Draco laughed. "It is. Although I blame it on Crabbe and Goyle. The imbeciles were never worth anything more than protection and goons. Their fathers are slightly more intelligent than they are, although its the first pure blood family I've seen turn out so thick."
"Yeah," she said with a smile. "But you're not all that bad. I like you much more now than before."
Draco looked up and their eyes locked. "Maybe," he started cautiously, "Maybe then, it's not so bad, this whole memory loss ordeal."
Hermione took a deep breath, "Maybe," she whispered.
Suddenly, Draco felt himself rush backwards and his head began to hurt. He saw an image...it was a dark room with deep red velvet couches and dark green walls. A woman was lying on one of them, sobbing. When she turned her head Draco realized it was his mother.
"Azkaban! They took him to Azkaban!" she shrieked, the tears running down her face. Then there was two small hands that ran across her hair, soothing her, comforting her. They were Draco's.
"Draco, what is it?"
Draco opened his eyes and saw Hermione's face a lot closer than before. Instinctively, he began to lean in, but then realizing what he was doing, he sat back. Little did he know, that Hermione felt a pang of disappointment.
"It's another one of those flashbacks I get," he said, masaging his temples.
"You're getting those a lot," said Hermione worriedly. "Do they hurt?"
Draco shut his eyes tight. "My head feels like it's burning, but the memories themselves don't hurt, they just...are."
He opened his eyes and saw Hermione's face looking sadly at his own. "Are you alright, then?"
"I'm fine," he said, "I just don't understand. It's always with you."
Hermione blinked and Draco just stared at her, bringing his hands down to the table, close to hers. He felt like reaching out and holding her hands in his, intertwining their fingers- wait, what was he thinking? He couldn't just go and grab a girl's hand just because he felt something. And he didn't need any more trouble with his father, and dating a Muggleborn might just be that: trouble.
"Oh, Merlin!" yelped Hermione.
Draco snapped out of his thoughts and looked frantically around, wondering what Hermione had seen. "What is it?" he asked, "What's wrong?"
Hermione pointed to the far end of the table they were on and Draco, seeing what she was fretting about, smiled, "It's just a beetle," he said calmly. He scooped it on a piece of parchment and walked towards a window, placing it on the windowsill and closing the shutters. "There, all gone."
Hermione laughed. "I'm terrible, aren't I?"
Draco looked at her seriously. "No, you aren't." Hermione blushed and Draco didn't know why he had said that.
"Well then," said Hermione nervously, "Should we start with our lesson?"
Draco thought for a moment. "You know, this teaching thing is been going very one-way. I think that I have a lot to give, although most of it I've lost along with my memory. I'm going to teach you something."
"What?" asked Hermione, unable to contain her eagerness.
Draco smiled a crooked smile. "I have to think of something."
"Alright," said Hermione, flipping open a book, "When you do, let me know."
"Of course," said Draco, and he looked at her a moment before opening his own text.
An hour later at the Malfoy Manor, a beetle was climbing through the window to the room were Voldemort and his Death Eaters sat waiting.
"Ah, our wait is over, my friends," announced Voldemort.
With that said, the beetle that had now made its way to the center of the room, transfigured into Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were blank and distant.
"Lucius, extract the evidence," commanded Voldemort.
"Yes, my Lord," replied Lucius, and with his wand he removed a memory from Rita's mind, which was being currently controlled by the darkest wizard. He put the memory into a vile and handed it carefully to Voldemort.
"Perfect," said Voldemort, caressing the vile, "At least you did not drop and break this, Malfoy, unlike the prophecy," chided Voldemort.
The Death Eaters around him sniggered and Lucius looked embarassed, but with one stare from Voldemort, they all silenced.
"Crabbe, Goyle," hissed Voldemort, "You didn't hear me pick your excuses for sons, so I would not be acting like fools if I were you. The consequences could be dire." After snapping at them, Voldemort turned back to the vile, which he poured into a Pensieve. "Rodolphus!" he called out, "Come here!"
One of the Death Eaters stood and approached him cautiously. "What is it you wish, my Lord?"
"Dip your head into the Pensieve and tell me what information we can obtain by the memory Miss Skeeter has so graciously attained for us," said Voldemort with an evil smile as he mentioned Rita's name.
Rodolphus did as he was told, and a few moments after, he emerged from the memory.
"What is it? Tell me now!" demanded Voldemort.
"It's the mudblood, my Lord," he told him shakily, "She seems to be the key to Draco Malfoy's flashbacks. He says himself that he remembers things when he is with her."
"Thank you, Rodolphus. Go sit back down."
Once Rodolphus had taken his seat, Voldemor turned to Narcissa and Lucius, who were waiting for his decision. "Well, Malfoys, it seems that there is something going on between your son and the mudblood. She is the key to his memories, and for that, she must be brought to me. Because what we need, what Draco needs, and what I need, is her soul."
A/N: Bet you didn't see that coming :) I have the plot all planned out and I'm so excited to start writing it! Please review and tell me what you think, because I love reviews.