Chapter 9


Draco's first night in the cottage was absolutely restless. The room lacked all the comforts of the Manor; the bed was hard, and the linens were made of a cheap, itchy fabric. Besides that, the space was assuredly small, comprised of nothing more than a bed and a tiny bathroom attached off to the far side. His closet alone at the Manor was at least double the size of both the room and bathroom combined. The wooden floors creaked in protest as he paced back and forth, mumbling angrily under his breath. Although he was exhausted beyond what he ever thought imaginable, his mind would not quiet. His rage kept hot adrenaline coursing through his heart.

Had he really been a prisoner of the Labyrinth, as Granger said?

"Impossible..." Draco muttered. There was no way his mother and father would allow such a thing; Their only heir locked away like some animal with the rest of the weak, pathetic populace. But the aches in his joints and the general unwell state of his body said otherwise. It was too much for Draco to imagine, particularly in his current condition.

As he stormed across the floor, his footsteps occasionally crunched as he stepped over the scattered, broken glass vials Molly Weasley and Professor Lupin had brought to him before locking him in the room. Now, there was a small part of him that regretted not trusting the potions, as his ribs sharply objected to any movement he made with pain. There were multiple plates of food and bread on his nightstand sitting untouched. Mrs. Weasley had encouraged him to eat and seemed overly concerned about his weight, a detail he found odd. For a prisoner, they had decided to feed him well. Too well, in Draco's opinion, and it served only to make him more suspicious of his captors. It must be poisoned, Draco had thought after inspecting the meal.

He sat on the edge of the lumpy bed and tried as hard as he could to think of anything at all from his past, but his mind was a dark void. Draco's last clear memory was of Voldemort tasking him to kill Dumbledore, an impossible mission meant to kill him, he was certain. He still felt slightly ill about it. He longed to hold immense power, to be respected, but even he knew he was no murderer. He didn't relish in death like his Aunt, longing to see blood.

Perhaps he had just hit his head and lost some of his memory? Though, it made much more logical sense that Hermione had attempted to obliviate him. He knew he would need to speak with Granger at some point, if only to get a straight answer as to why he was currently here. After taking a moment to consider the prospect of speaking with the witch, Draco decided he'd much rather gouge his eyes out.

Overly exhausted, Draco slowly lowered the rest of his body on the mattress, lifting his legs so he could finally give his body some much-deserved rest. There was no use in pacing about like a loon. Rest would give him the clarity he needed to plot his escape. Draco drifted nearly soundlessly to sleep, fortunately, unable to remember the horrors of the Labyrinth unlike the witch sleeping on the other side of the wall.


Hermione placed both of her feet off the mattress and onto the cold, wooden floor. She had gotten but a few moments of rest from her overworked mind. Her eyelids drooped heavily over her eyes, and her body, though feeling better after Molly's attendance, was still horribly achy. Exhaustion had been her constant companion for months, an annoying partner through all of her trials and tribulations. Now understanding the impossibility that was sleep, Hermione sighed as she came to the realization that her exhaustion might never cease to burden her. There was no stopping the racing thoughts from plaguing her heart and mind. Maybe tonight she would request a sleeping drought, Hermione thought to herself as she shuffled across the floor, not bothering to change out of her nightwear as she made for the kitchen.

As she rounded the narrow hallway into the kitchen, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Despite her lack of sleep, her heart was jolted awake by the sight before her. Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin playboy himself was leaning against the counter in mid conversation with Remus, who was casually sipping tea. Odd.

This should be a fascinating story, Hermione thought before clearing her throat to alert the men of her presence.

"Ah, Hermione, we were just discussing you. There is breakfast warming on the stove if you'd like." Remus was first to respond.

"Granger, " Zabini nodded appraisingly, his own warm expression clashing against her cool regard.

Hermione eyed him distastefully for a moment before turning to Lupin for an explanation.

"Hermione, Blaise is our current informant amongst the Death Eaters. I assure you he is trustworthy. I am hoping a familiar face will help Draco adjust to his current situation."

"I came here as soon as I could," Blaise began. "How is he? Well... apart from the memory thing."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully along as she registered the obvious concern in Blaise's voice. "Draco went through hell, but he doesn't realize it. I haven't the slightest idea of where to even begin to work on his memory. Its... Well anyway, hopefully, you can pacify him enough so that I may start working with him." Though she knew Blaise was here to help, still did not entirely trust the man, especially not with her most sacred moments with Draco. She quickly decided she would only give him the information he absolutely needed to calm Draco. She felt more comfortable handling the rest herself.

"I'll try my best," Blaise shrugged, "but Draco is stubborn."

"That's an understatement," Hermione rolled her eyes lightly, but a small smirk rested upon her lips as she remembered some of Draco's sharp rebuts to her plans in the Labyrinth.

Blaise regarded the woman shrewdly, and though Hermione had very few interactions with him before, she was certain he had picked up on the slight blush on her cheeks as her mind flashed briefly with Draco's face.

"Is there anything else you can tell me that will help before I go upstairs?" Blaise questioned, still carefully considering Hermione. Both the Slytherin and the Gryffindor were in a silent battle of wits; one that could only be won through careful analysis of their opponent. She was almost certain he asked the question not to get information, but to see her reaction. Hermione carefully composed herself, hoping to give little away about her relationship with Draco. She kept her face as neutral as possible.

"He has no memories of the Labyrinth or his father's betrayal. He also has no knowledge of Narcissa's death. He had not yet learned of it until a few hours before our escape." Hermione's voice trailed off in a whisper as she remembered the absolute heartache Draco had suffered when he saw his mother's gravestone. "As for how far back his memory loss goes, he knows about the existence of the Labyrinth, and that he is a Death Eater... but that's all I know." Sensing Blaise's gaze upon her features, she continued for good measure, "He seemed exactly like the purebred asshole from school, honestly." Blaise was still staring at Hermione intently. As much as she attempted to hide it, Blaise thought Hermione looked far more concerned than a simple acquaintance would be, particularly given her history with Draco.

"And your own relationship with him, why do you care so much about him? Get caught in a bit of Slytherin charm?" Blaise questioned, intrigued by the answers of this particular line of questioning.

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly at the inquisitive man, "He gave his memory to save me, and... well the Labyrinth changed him. Draco's last request was that I not give up on him, and I will honor that until I die."

Blaise, ever charismatic, shook his head slightly and muttered, "Definitely a Gryffindor. Perhaps he was always that way, though, and you lot never gave him a proper chance." Blaise countered.

"This is... this is different." Hermione could not even begin to explain the complexities she had learned of Draco. He himself had warned her that he was not a good man growing up. She agreed that he always had the inner strength to find the right path. And yet, how could she expect a man who had learned, not from his parents, but from his own experiences of which he now had no memory of, to let go of his prejudices? Blaise gracefully pushed himself off the counter and started for the stairs.

"I should make this quick, my absence will be noticed if I'm not back soon. Remus, Granger," Blaise nodded. And with that, Blaise walked towards the hall. Hermione heard his feet tread quickly up the stairs.

As soon as Hermione felt he was far enough away, she sat down at the table across from Remus. During her sleepless night, Hermione had managed to come up with nothing short of a hundred questions, at the very least. She was at a loss for where to begin, but, the quiet calm that Remus exuded reassured her.

"Do you think it's possible to truly be wiped of memories?" Hermione blurted out. Though she realized that, logically, there were many more pressing questions to ask, she started with the first thing on her mind. Remus considered her carefully before standing and slowly moving around the kitchen. His movements were much less frenzied than Molly's, more deliberate. His wand was lying listlessly untouched on the kitchen table.

"Let me make you a cup of tea," Remus muttered as he chose a tall mug out of the cupboard.

"I find that sometimes the muggle way of preparing tea is more cathartic actually. And... it produces a far better cup, don't you agree?" Hermione nodded, confused by his line of thought. A few minutes later, however, he placed a steaming cup in front of her, and she was thankful for the warmth it brought her.

"Hermione, you are brilliant, but memories are incredibly powerful, complex things, particularly when mixed with magic. I say this because I care, but, it may very well be impossible to retrieve his memories," Remus concluded. " You've had a traumatic few months, you need to give yourself a break. I don't want you driving yourself mad over this."

"You don't understand, Remus. I have to try. I promised I would," Hermione's notorious determination was evident to Remus.

"Tell me again, how his memories were taken," Remus asked, knowing he would be unable to stop the brilliant witch once she had set her mind toward a goal. Hermione divulged the details. She found it easier to leave behind the emotional aspects of the memory, and simply focus on the facts. Unlike Harry or Ron, Remus held no expectations of anything beyond this, and she was grateful for that.

After she had concluded, Remus sat quietly for several moments, lost in the gears of his brain.

"Your first order of business is to find out what sort of magic is capable of wiping memories, besides the more obvious memory charms. This sounds like the work of a dark artifact to me," Remus shared. Hermione eagerly soaked in all the new information he was giving her. She thought she had seen a library next to the living room last night. That would be her next stop. But first, she had a few more questions.

"So, I have tons of questions, I just... I don't really know where to start." Hermione confessed.

Remus chuckled. "That I cannot help you with. Start wherever you want."

"Alright," Hermione thought for a moment."How did you open our cell doors, and how did Kingsley manage to get into the Labyrinth. I thought it was supposed to be impenetrable."

Remus frowned, "An excellent place to start, but a difficult one," he let out a deep sigh. Hermione could see the pain in his face as he thought of his dear departed friend. Remus had lost so much during this war, perhaps more than anyone else in the Order. Deeply etched into his aging face were the hardships of his life, each immeasurable sorrow the kind hearted man felt. "First off, you must know that the Labyrinth is, for the most part, impermeable. Only those who already have access can be granted passage. From what we know the Dark Lord controls which wands can and cannot have access to the Labyrinth."

"Like a wand registry?" Hermione questioned.

"Precisely. Only his most trusted Death Eater's are allowed in. Anyway, when Narcissa came to us, she had secretly made an unregistered portkey. Blaise, during one of his sweeps of the prison, was able to drop the portkey unnoticed."

Hermione thought for a moment. The Dark Lord, though untrusting, was arrogant, and he must have truly believed no Death Eater would ever dare cross him without his knowledge. The Dark Lord's greatest weakness, that of human nature, of ego and arrogance, permeated his Labyrinth as well. "And the cell doors?"

"As for opening the cell doors, there are only a number of wands that can unlock and lock the doors, a permission granted to Death Eaters in charge of interrogations and torture. Narcissa managed to steal the wand of Amycus Carrow. The man was apparently so afraid of Voldemort's wrath, of his own death, that he never reported his wand missing. Narcissa brought us the wand and gave us the charms to unlock the cells. Blaise, who was on patrol the night of your escape, cast the spell to open the cell doors just as guard shifts were changing, giving you both a few moments head start."

Hermione paused, stunned into silence. Truly, had it not been for Narcissa and Blaise, two people she had very rarely thought about before in her life, she would still be trapped in that living hell.

"Why is he doing this, I mean, Blaise. Why is he helping?" Hermione thought. Slytherin's were notorious for their cunning nature, but also, for their self-ambition.

"You'll have to ask him that yourself," Remus cryptically said. Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly in thought. It just made no sense, but as Hermione opened her mouth to ask another question, Molly Weasley and Ginny burst into the kitchen.

"Ah you're awake... and I see that you haven't eaten yet!" Mrs. Weasley harrumphed, quickly making her way through the room to start another round of breakfast on the stove. "How did you sleep, dear?" She questioned, pausing from her cooking to survey Hermione intently.

Hermione twitched under her inquisitive gaze. "I slept better than I have in months," she answered honestly, though, she knew that did not mean much.

"Perhaps some breakfast will help. You're as thin as a broomstick!" Molly replied. In her own motherly way, she realized the woman was not yet herself but did not want to press her any more than necessary. She placed a piece of toast and some eggs in front of Hermione. Though her stomach was still not feeling the best, she had to admit the food smelled delicious. Knowing she had tons of researching to begin now that she had spoken with Remus, Hermione quickly began to dig into her food. Mrs. Weasley smiled triumphantly, not knowing of Hermione's true motivations behind eating at such a rapid pace.

"Hermione! Would you like a tour of the cottage, I know you were tired last night," Ginny offered as she watched Hermione scarf down a piece of toast.

"I really must be off to the library," Hermione said in-between bites of food. Her stomach was feeling much better, and the food was giving her welcome energy that she would need to get through her day of research. Ginny frowned at her friend's words. Though it was not unusual for Hermione to lock herself in the library, Ginny was confused as to why Hermione felt the need to rush so soon after returning. Hermione noticed the frown on the red-headed girl's face and gave a small smile. "I'd love a tour later, though," she said as she stood up.

"Thank you for breakfast Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione called back over her shoulder as she rushed from the cozy kitchen, leaving the other wizards bewildered by her actions. There was no time to waste, however, and Hermione felt she had too many topics to catch up on. The library awaited.


A soft knocking on the door awoke Draco, but, before he could tell whoever it was to sod off, an unexpected guest barged into his room.

Draco's eyes widened a fraction in response before his usual cool facade drifted into place. Of all the people who could have barged into his room, it had to be this one, he rolled his eyes.

"Took you long enough," Draco sneered condescendingly, sitting up from his mattress. "Your rescue should have been here hours ago. Don't tell me this lot has gotten you tripped up."

Blaise barked out a laugh in response.

"Seems the memory wipe did nothing for your arrogance," The Italian jested.

At this point, Draco was eyeing him with nothing but suspicion; Blaise was far too calm. Something was not right. During his time at Hogwarts Blaise had been his only true friend. Blaise, unlike the other Slytherin's, was unafraid of him. In Draco's eyes, it had earned the Italian boy respect. While the others would follow Draco blindly (which, he had to admit, he also enjoyed immensely), Blaise had no qualms about challenging him, a trait that Draco had rarely ever faced.

"Well... let's get on with it," Draco said, exasperated.

"Hell of a greeting for an old friend," Blaise sarcastically quipped, flashing his signature bright smile. "Guess I wasn't really expecting much..." Blaise muttered while closing the door behind him. Draco made no move to welcome the other man in. How the fuck did Blaise know where he was? And why weren't they leaving?

"How did you find me?" Draco hesitantly questioned, at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

"The Order called me because your stubborn ass isn't cooperating so I have to clean up your mess, as per usual." Blaise casually leaned against the door and looked Draco up and down, "You look like shit, mate. Actually," Blaise's nose crinkled, "you smell like shit too."

The Order? Draco rubbed his temples, trying to keep his temper under control. "Blaise tell me what the fuck is going on, now."

"Well, simply put, your worm of a father put you in the Labyrinth to save his own arse. You and Granger managed to escape. Mate, I hate to tell you this but it seems you went a bit Gryffindor in there," Blaise laughed as he thought back to Hermione's wistful expression as she spoke of Draco. Draco shot him a cruel, icy glare, causing Blaise to hold his hands up in defeat. "I'm just telling it how it is. Anyway...You saved the princess- or she saved you- but no matter. You escaped, sans memory, and now you're on the Death Eater's most wanted list, right after Potter of course. Congratulations."

Draco shook his head slightly. First Granger, now Zabini. "You're absolutely fucking mad. This whole thing is insanity," Draco nearly shouted.

"Oh, you haven't even heard the best part yet. That girl is convinced she can save you," Blaise chuckled as he thought back to Hermione's determined expression as she spoke of her promise. "Always the heartbreaker."

Draco's eyes narrowed coolly. "I did nothing of the sort with that... that mudblood."

"Says the man with no memory, and... the man who also never quite cared about blood status." Blaise challenged him, rolling his eyes. He cringed a moment as he read Draco's expression. Draco's face was set in deep concentration, trying to make sense of everything. Frustration was evident, but there was also something else Blaise recognized. It was the same determined look Hermione had, except Blaise knew that the plan Draco was setting his mind to, was not a good one. "Draco, I know you trust no one right now, and I don't necessarily blame you, but don't be a git. You have no place amongst the Death Eaters anymore. The Draco I know would never be such a fool to escape safety for certain death." Draco considered his words. Never before had Draco felt so hopelessly frustrated. To stay was to be surrounded by his enemies, but to leave meant dying.

"So you're telling me that you believe Granger?" Draco sounded absolutely flabbergasted at the idea. "And you... wait. My mum, where is she?"

"Draco," Zabini's normally jesting tone took on a harrowing seriousness. "Mate, your mom wasn't who you thought she was. Listen, promise me you'll hear me out before you start spouting nonsense again?"

Draco, knowing he had little other choice, simply nodded. Blaise recounted to Draco the story of his lost memories, at least, what he knew of them. Beginning where Draco's memories staved off, Blaise recounted Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore, and his failure to actually murder the Headmaster. He spoke of how Snape saved him in the aftermath from the Dark Lord's wrath, of how his mother, knowing Draco was still not safe, planned an escape for them. When Blaise recounted the betrayal of Lucius, Draco sat wide-eyed, staring at Blaise as though he had grown a third arm.

And when the end grew near, when Blaise had to finally speak of Draco's capture, of his mother's death, Draco's face became a picture of ferocity.

"You're lying," Draco snarled, "I saw her just a few days ago." Blaise sadly shook his head.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I don't know what you would like me to say."

At that moment the frustration that had been mounting through the night became too much of a burden. Insanity is a peculiar thing; it grows unnoticed, lurking in the deepest parts of the mind until it finds an opening to overtake the soul. Once manifested, it places the world out of reach, coloring all situations in the most horrible of hues. Draco's insanity, the one that had tangled like a vine around his skull, overtook him in that moment, breaking his reality. Draco took a menacing step towards Blaise, reaching for his collar.

"You fucking liar! I want you to tell me she is alive!" Draco coldly spat out as he held Blaise pinned to the door, his hand tight around his friend's neck. "I want you to tell me this isn't real. I want you to tell me the truth, that you're playing some monumentally fucked up joke."

"The Dark Lord wants you dead. He killed your mother," Blaise bluntly stated, his patience with his friend was wearing thin, and his own aggravation was evident in his tone. "I think that memory charm fucked up more than just your memory, mate. You're right stupid now," Blaise chuckled humorlessly.

Draco did not loosen his grip on the other man. His breathing was coming out in erratic spurts as he tried to comprehend his situation.

"Whether you want to hear it or not, I am not lying to you, you stupid git." Blaise forcefully pushed Draco away.

"And Granger? You really believe that I gave up my memory for her?" Draco snorted in disbelief.

Blaise shrugged, "I admit it doesn't sound like you, but it's been months Draco. I don't know what happened in the Labyrinth. But I do know you and Granger are being hunted." His final words were a thinly veiled warning that Draco read clearly; He was not to leave the cottage, or he would likely be killed. Draco, being one for self-preservation, was torn. He was in a house of wizards and witches he hated, people he did not trust. But to leave the safety they provided was unwise.

Blaise exhaled, still reading the absolute disbelief on his friend's face. Blaise knew he had failed to get through to his normally level-headed, rational friend. The memory charm had done more damage than Blaise had anticipated. "Listen, mate, I have to go before they realize I've been gone. I'll be back whenever I get another chance. I know you don't believe me, but just listen to what I've said. Don't do anything entirely stupid."

And with that Blaise disappeared from the room, leaving Draco alone to his exhausted, broken mind. From up in his tiny bedroom, Draco had no idea of the Gryffindor's presence just a few floors below, as he was calculating his own escape. Without a wand, it would be nearly impossible, he concluded.

His conversation with Blaise gave him much to think about. Was the man in front of him even real? Perhaps it was another trick of the Order, Draco thought, finding it unlikely that Blaise would turn on the Dark Lord. There was one thing Blaise, was absolutely correct about, though, he really did need to shower.


Hermione wasted no time getting to work, and doing what she knew best, Hermione settled into the worn leather couch by the fire, quickly tucking into one of the many books she had gathered. A towering stack of tomes, books, and parchment rested on the end table beside her. In this moment, Hermione paused briefly and smiled. This was home, she thought happily. There has got to be an answer here somewhere, Hermione consideration, as she carefully flipped through the pages. She was in for a long day of work, but she was as determined as ever. And so she began her entirely impossible quest to keep her promise to Draco.

The following week went by much the same as her first day at the cottage. She only left her books to eat and shower, ignoring nearly all other responsibilities. Her friends tried endlessly to speak with her, but she was always distracted, muttering to herself before quickly running back into the library, oblivious to the worried stares of her loved ones. Her brain worked tirelessly, never halting in its production of thoughts and theories. Though drained, Hermione was urged on every night by the pacing footsteps of Draco she heard through her wall and the occasional, frustrated cry that rang from his room.

Draco's week went by much slower than Hermione's, though it consisted of just as much thought. For the week following his conversation with Blaise, he thought endlessly about every word that was said. His father's betrayal, his mother's death, the loss of his memory, it was far too much to handle. It was remarkably easier to ignore reality than except his situation, and thus, Draco's disbelief in his life manifested. There was just no way any of this could be true. Draco fell quickly into a tired rhythm in which he awoke after having barely slept, ate the food Mrs. Weasely practically forced down his throat, before again being locked in his room, methodically plotting his escape.

There were a few times Professor Lupin or Molly Weasley had attempted to speak with him, but he largely ignored their efforts. Occasionally he felt the need to put them in their place, reminding them of his powerful status and family name. Professor Lupin was gravely worried about Draco's mental state, and the effect his lost memory was having on his psyche. Normally, when a person was obliviated they remembered nothing at all, and they could be molded however was necessary. Partial memory charms were dangerous, far more complex to maneuver and it appeared to be having a severe effect on Draco's fragile mind.

By the second week, Hermione sat at the kitchen table, irritated as ever.

She was no closer to finding any way of bringing back Draco's memories, especially without the necessary information regarding how exactly his memory was affected. The magic was likely dark, embedded within the orb that Draco had touched. She could find no information in the available library on this type of dark artifact. She let out a soft groan. This was hopeless.

Harry stood quietly in the kitchen doorway, observing his brilliant friend. He had seen her become obsessed with finding out the answer to a problem, though, never to this extent. She looked exhausted, worn down to the bone. Truthfully, Harry did not quite know how to go about talking with her. The woman sitting at the table was very different from the woman he knew. The past weeks, she had said but a few words to her friends at dinner and shut herself in her room at night. The Hermione he had known trusted them with her life, never one to keep secrets of this nature. She was the light of the group, the bringer of hope and reason, but now... Harry shook his head in dejection. The only He gathered his courage and cleared his throat.

Hermione's eyes shot up to meet his, and he gave a small wave.

"Can I sit with you?"

"Of course," Hermione said quizzingly. "You never have to ask, you know."

Harry shrugged. "You've been wanting space lately, and I don't want to be a bother."

"Harry," Hermione began, cautiously choosing her words. "It's just hard to deal with all of this. This feels comfortable, and normal to me," Hermione honestly stated.

Harry nodded, knowing nothing else needed to be said. When his best friend was ready to talk about her experience, she knew he would always be here. Their relationship was based on more than words. "So, what are you working on?" Harry asked, trying to lighten Hermione's mood again.

Hermione, realizing she had not really spoken to Harry about everything she had learned began to explain what she was looking for, from a potential new Horcrux to the artifact that was responsible for Draco's memory loss.

"What about the pensive? We managed to bring it back here after the battle," Harry stated after listening to Hermione's rant about her studies. "I mean, I know it's not his memories, but it could be a start right?" Harry unconfidently finished. Hermione let out an uncharacteristic yelp of delight.

"We... we have the pensive here? Where?" Hermione spluttered out in excitement. "Harry, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I dunno," Harry sheepishly said, "Really I didn't know much about the situation, but there also has been no breaking you out of your studies. It's in the office on the fifth floor, in the cabinet." Hermione paused at his last statement.

"Merlin I'm so stupid sometimes," Hermione chuckled for a moment before frowning. A partial solution to get Draco to listen to them had been in front of her the whole time. "Harry, I'm- I'm sorry I've been distant. I just have a lot that I need to work through right now," She stared at the book in front of her. "This is easier, looking through books and researching. It's home. I just don't quite know how to talk about or even process what has happened."

Harry nudged his shoulder against Hermione's. "There is never any need to apologize Hermione. You're my sister. I understand completely," He reassured her. She gave him a quick hug in response to his kind words.

One day, when all of this was over, she knew she owed Harry an explanation. He deserved as much. But now was not the time, nor the place. She finally had the information she needed to speak with Draco without him turning her away or ignoring her. He was a man of facts, his self-preservation held above all else. Without anything to bargain with, Hermione had avoided speaking with him. But now that she could help him understand all that had happened, she did not want to waste any more time in seeing him.

"Um... Harry I know I've been doing this a lot to you lately, but I've got to go. Thank you!" She called back as she sprinted from the kitchen up the stairs.


Draco's first reaction to the soft knock on his door was to roll his eyes. How often did Mrs. Weasley expect him to eat? It was a wonder to him as to how her boys all managed to stay so lanky.

"You may enter," Draco drowsily called out, but, to his shock, the door swung open to reveal none other than Hermione Granger. He had not yet seen her since their last exchange when she had used an unforgivable curse to get him to bend to her whim. His blood began boiling. Despite how frail she looked, and she really was quite emaciated, Draco stood. There was no trust amongst old enemies.

"Draco," Hermione approached him tentatively, like she would a dangerous animal. She could see there was something unwell radiating in his eyes. Though he was starting to recover some of his weight and muscle tone, his eyes told of a far worse fate. There was a madness in his silver orbs that was striking. He stared her down as she moved, a predator stalking the every movement of its prey. Hermione persisted, " Please, I...I want to show you something, but... I need you to trust me."

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously and he scoffed at the woman in front of him. "Trust you? Why the hell should I trust you, Granger?" He took a step toward her cowering figuring, his anger radiating off him like fire. Hermione recognized those words as she herself had once asked him the same question. "You really want me to believe that I sacrificed my memories for you? Why the fuck would I do that? Spare me your pathetic lies. Everyone else may think you are some bloody saint, but you are just a know it all bitch who took everything from me."

His breathing was ragged by the time he was done with his outburst. Without noticing, Draco had backed Hermione into a corner. His chest was heaving in and out, her own fearful breathing tickling his chin. He sneered down at her as she trembled slightly. Good, let her be afraid of me.

"Please...Don't you want to know what really happened? I can help you." Hermione told him softly. Her eyes were searching his face, looking for something that Draco himself did not know, but as he continued to sneer he knew she would not find whatever she wanted to see. She let out a soft sigh and took a step forward, forcing him backward with a tiny shove so she could escape the room. "I'm leaving your door unlocked. I trust you Draco. When you want to see your memories, you know where to find me." She dejectedly stated before exiting the living space.

Draco stood in a stunned silence before reaching to grab the doorknob. His first move was to leave the room, to run far from this place and hide for the rest of his days. But a nagging voice in the back of his skull stopped him. He would never survive without a wand. Manipulative bitch. He angrily growled, letting out a deep hum from his chest.

Draco paused for a moment in deep thought. What if Blaise had been right? Because of his anger, he had never once stopped to seriously contemplate the possibility that everyone was telling him the truth. That he wasn't some prisoner of the Order.

Sitting back down on his bed, Draco pondered this possibility for a while. Truly, Draco knew his sole option to find out the truth was to speak with Granger, as she was the only person who could admit once and for all if she had obliviated him. If he wanted answers he would have to listen to the one woman he had spent his school years resenting; the manipulative, know it all swot in the room beside his. As he came to this realization, Draco let out a groan of frustration.


It had been stupid of her, really, to not plan a better way to speak with him, Hermione contemplated. She should have known how angry he'd be, particularly after being locked in a room for a week to brew over his rage. What she had been unprepared for was how insanity was beginning to wrap its way around Draco, strangling him from the inside out with its cruel manipulation of reality. She had just been so caught up in her own excitement, that she had not thought of any other plan.

As she entered her own room to think further on how to speak with Draco, she noticed Ron sitting on her bed.

"Hi," Hermione, taken by surprise, did not know what else to say. She had not yet spoken with Ron as she had with Harry. Before she had been taken prisoner, her relationship with Ron had come to a crossroads. Either they were to remain friends, or they were to become something more. At the time, she would have gladly gone the route of more. But now, given everything that had happened to her, this was just another stress she was not ready to confront. She knew it was unfair to him, but she felt entirely uncertain of what to say to him.

"Hi," He said back rather moodily. Hermione shut the door behind her. "So, you're sneaking into his room now, is that it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Don't be stupid Ron, I just wanted to speak with him. I've made a breakthrough I think-"

"Oh bloody fucking brilliant," Ron muttered angrily. "Congratulations."

"Ron," Hermione sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to discuss all of this yet."

"All of what?" Ron questioned "Us? This is too much for you to deal with? Well, I'm sorry, but I've been through a hell of a lot over here too."

Hermione nodded understandingly, "I know, and I'm so sorry. I just have a lot to think about right now, but I promise I will speak with you soon so we can figure everything out," she said sincerely, but Ron rolled his eyes.

"Of course you are."

"Ronald Weasley, I will not fight with you about this. Stop being so immature, please? I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I'm not ready to talk to you about our relationship. What is it you'd like to hear?" Hermione snapped back. She truly did feel bad. Ron was one of her best friends, someone who knew her better than anyone and had stood by through every difficult moment. But she was not going to handle his childish jealousy right now. She noticed his face turning redder.

"What?" She questioned.

"I want to hear that you've missed me. That you've thought about me and that you're ready to go back to the way things were."

"I have missed you. Terribly, in fact. But everything is so different, Ron. Things aren't the same, and they may never be," Hermione softly whispered. She thought back to her interactions with Draco. To how he made her feel. His comforting warmth had enveloped her, his touch awakening something deeper within her abdomen. While she knew it could be nothing, Hermione was not ready to let go of the possibility that there could be more with Draco. That their connection had not only been because of their dire situation.

Draco was able to challenge Hermione in a way Ron wasn't. Even if their relationship turned out to be nothing more than friendship, she knew that she could never again be with a man like Ron. Having felt the spark, she knew in life that she needed a person as brilliant as herself to keep her attention.

"It's just...after everything we've done for you, Hermione. I thought you'd be more grateful. You haven't even been helping the Order. I just...I just don't understand you anymore Hermione. You've changed so much," Ron finished, stammering with anger towards the end.

In the room over, Draco took pause. Without realizing it, he had become captivated by the argument between the two friends. He pressed his ear closer against her bedroom wall, though, as their argument became more heated, he did not have to strain to hear what they were saying.

Had Draco been able to see into the next room over, he would have seen Hermione's cheeks turn a scarlet red as her temperature rose in response to Ron's words. Ungrateful?

"All you care about is him," Ron continued. "What about us? What about your friends? Harry... and me? You don't understand-"

" Of course I've changed you twit! Don't tell me what I understand or not," Hermione venomously spat out. The conclusion of this fight was becoming clearer to Draco with every word spoken. "I worried just as much about your safety as you worried about mine. I'm sorry you felt pain -I truly am- but so did I, except I was alone. I was damned to a living hell that you know nothing about. Draco saved me. So, no Ronald, you don't understand. I have to do this." Hermione coldly finished. Draco could almost picture her eyes flashing in anger, and Ron's flushed red cheeks. He heard heavy footsteps leaving her room, and a loud bang of the door slamming shut. Across the hall, he heard another door slam.

Draco silently pushed himself away from the wall and paused for only a moment before making his way towards his own bedroom door.

Draco could not remember a time when he felt guilty, but thinking back to his own fight with Hermione earlier, he felt the tinge of emotion penetrate his cold heart. Perhaps he would give her the benefit of the doubt. It couldn't hurt, right? To have mercy on someone who was obviously suffering? Anyway, he needed answers as well. He was tired of waiting. Draco let out a frustrated sigh before walking out his door. Without knocking, he pushed Hermione's door open and quietly clicked it shut behind him.

"Dra- Malfoy? What are you doing here?" A startled Hermione whispered, as she quickly stood from her bed. Draco noted that there were papers strewn everywhere; books covered nearly every surface available in her small room. Now that Draco was less focused on his own anger he took a moment to study Hermione. The witch looked nothing short of haggard. The bags under her eyes were just as pronounced as his own. His world of suffering had an apparent guest.

"You look like a bloody mess Granger- studying finally getting to you?" Draco kept his tone cool, but casual as he gracefully leaned against the door. Hermione's face turned a slight pinkish color. She was stunned by his changed nature. Only half an hour before he was nearly mad, and now, she could see some level of composure.

Draco spoke again, "I heard your little argument with the Weasle. Trouble in paradise?" Draco teased menacingly. "You never were very good with the opposite sex, though, were you?"

Hermione angrily exhaled, too emotionally drained to deal with yet another bastard tonight. Though she had been wanting to speak with Draco for days now, she was not prepared for his arrogance right now.

"If you're here to start another fight, get the fuck out Malfoy. I don't have the time, nor the patience for you as well." Draco held up his hands as a sign of surrender.

"I am simply here to offer you something you want, a proposition of sorts." Hermione's ears perked up at Draco's words. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but I want my wand back," Draco stated slyly, his cunning manipulation dripping from his smooth voice.

"Even if I could get you your wand back, I'm not stupid enough to do it," Hermione said back, trying to ignore the warm feeling his voice sent into her stomach.

"Then you're wasting all this time for nothing Granger," Draco coyly said, taking a step back towards the door of her room.

"It's technically not even your wand," Hermione stated factually, baiting him, much the same as he was doing to her. "But, you would know that if you knew what happened."

"Then how do you have a wand?" Draco accusingly shot back, trying to find holes in her story.

The spark slipped quickly from Hermione's eyes as she stared guiltily at the floor.

"It's Tonks' wand."

"Tonks?"

"Your cousin. She was a member of the Order. She didn't make it through the last battle. They managed to secure her wand, though. It responds better to me than the Death Eater's wands we were using." Hermione concluded that honesty was the best course of action. She hoped that her trustworthiness would be as transparent as it had been in the Labyrinth. Unfortunately, this meant she had to be vulnerable to a man who had the power to wield it however he wished, a man who was not entirely mentally stable at the moment. The thought, though terrifying, did nothing to quell Hermione's conviction. She was going to see this through to whatever end fate would bring.

"While I'm not willing to offer you a wand, yet," Hermione began, mimicking his coy tone. She took a casual step towards him, "I am willing to offer you a wand after you watch ever memory I have of our time in the Labyrinth."

"What do you mean watch the memories?" Draco questioned suspiciously.

"Draco, I... I'm not sure I will ever be able to technically get your memories back-"

"Then why the hell did you tell me you could? If you cannot offer me my memories, then you are just as worthless as you've always been," Draco spat out, as he quickly turned on his heel to exit the room.

"You stubborn arse! Will you let me finish?" Hermione's frustration was reaching its peak. If she could only get him to understand. As he turned the knob on the door, Hermione knew the best solution with Draco was to dive right into what she needed to say. "Have you ever used a pensieve before?

"I've heard of it," Draco responded, and Hermione knew his curiosity was piqued.

"So technically, these memories you will be seeing are not your own. They will be mine. But I think it may help you to better understand the position you're in now," Hermione sighed before continuing," I don't know if there is a way to get your memories back, at least, not without a better understanding of the magic used to take them. So this is the next best thing I can offer you."

Draco considered her words. He had to admit, that didn't sound so bad. And with a wand, he would be able to escape. As long as he played everything right, if he could just get Granger to trust him enough to slip up, he could have his freedom. Draco could see what Blaise had meant about the woman before him; There was a longing in her eyes, a caring that he had seldom seen in his life. It could certainly be used to his advantage, Draco reflected.

"Fine, I accept. But only under the condition that I receive a wand when this is all over."

Hermione nodded her head. She was confident that after seeing the experiences that he lost, he would not be willing to use the wand against her. At least... she hoped.

"Alright then. Follow me." Hermione led Draco up a few more flights of stairs. Off to the right of the staircase was a room even smaller than the one he resided in now. It contained a desk, some books, and a curio cabinet. Hermione unlocked the cabinet with her wand and lifted out a small, stone bowl that was filled with a silvery substance.

Draco curiously inspected the object as she placed it on the table. Placing her wand against her head, Hermione pulled a thin silver strand from her head, and placed it in the basin.

"I'm going to start us at the beginning, with our escape. I think it will be best to go in order," Hermione determined. In order for Draco to have a full understanding, Hermione knew he would need to see the progression of their time together, of his own personal growth.

"Take my arm," Hermione instructed. Draco could see her anxiety showing on her face, but tried to ignore it. Best for him to just get this over with, he decided.

Taking a deep breath Draco gripped Hermione's arm and suddenly the room around them was swirling in a hazy smoke as he was transported into Hermione's nightmare.


Author's Note: Well... that chapter was entirely too long, (and entirely too difficult to write) but at least it's finally posted.

In other news-I have a new story posted! It is titled Behind Enemy Gates. The description is up in my bio. It is another Dramione, but expect it to be much darker (and steamier) than this one. I have already completed about half of the story. I realized as I am writing The Labyrinth that I should have written more before posting. There are so many things I want to change looking back- which is why I am having a difficult time with writer's block (and general dissatisfaction with the flow of the chapters). But you live and you learn I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Someone asked how long The Labyrinth will be. The short answer: 16 chapters are outlined. The long answer: As long as I need to tell the story. It could drastically change before the end, But it will likely be between 75,000-95,000 words upon completion. I know this is on the shorter side, but for my first story I think it is a decent length, and it also gives the characters their proper conclusion. It is a definite pet peeve of mine when stories are stretched well beyond what they should be (in general, not just fanfics), so I won't put you all through that.

Hope everyone had great holidays! Until next time- AMJ