A/N: The next chapter's tone has changed a bit since I haven't written in a long time. It took time for me to remember and feel the emotion that I wanted this story to have and I'm not sure It was relayed in the next chapter that well. To tell you the truth I was really happy while writing so it was pretty hard to angst up the lines of chapter 8. So I hope you guys will still enjoy this. Angst will be back in the next few chapters (I hope! XD)

AMPHIGORY of THE MIND

8

The next time she saw him, she swore could have obliviated herself the moment she opened her eyes.

Hair, wisps of platinum hair was strewn across the pillow. The same periwinkle and peach printed pillow that she lay his head on the night he had collapsed on the snow outside her flat.

Her hands shook with the intensity of an unrelenting Horntail. Grasping her sheets she quietly slipped out of the bed and with growing horror realized that the chill that hit her skin as she motioned to leave the room was due to the fact that she was naked.

She could have sworn that was one of the few times she felt her brain function come to a screeching halt.

She screamed.


The next time he saw her, his head pounded with the reverberating pain of his hangover from drinking an insane amount of whiskey from the previous night. . . that and a banshee screaming.

Although a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him it wasn't a banshee.

The same voice assured him that he could no longer remain asleep through the inexorable racket.

He groaned and lay rolled over to see where the infernal noise was coming from. One eye opened itself with effort, and in disbelief the other eye followed suit with growing astonishment.

He immediately sat up. As he peeled the covers off his chest and peered to check if his lower body was still intact, he inevitably noticed that he too was in fact naked.

In her horrified state she pulled at the same sheet that covered what was left of his dignity and and ran out of the room.

He sighed, as he placed the periwinkle and peach pillow in between his legs.

'An insane amount 'in allusion to the amount of alcohol he desired to plague his system with the previous night was definitely an understatement.


Her stomach churned uncontrollably as she sipped her earl grey.

The man who graced her kitchen the morning and who sat across from her was being calmly assaulted by her cat at the foot of the table. He seemed to not mind as the animal purred and rubbed his midsection against his beautifully woven trousers repeatedly. In fact, he looked like he enjoyed it.

She glared at him. Her mind was in shambles. She did not know nor remember how they ended up in that precarious situation that morning. She could not recall for the life of her how she ended up unclothed with the last man on earth she imagined to grace her fantasies.

Fantasies! She groaned. That was hardly the word for the funny situation that lay at her feet this morning. She was Hermione Granger, a diligent investigator at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she was proper and righteous and increasingly stubborn. She always wanted to be right and this morning everything was horribly wrong. . .To top it all off, she was engaged.

A wave of realization crashed down upon her. She was Engaged.

She stood up so abruptly that her wooden chair was knocked back loudly. She did not notice him tersely look at her for the first time this morning since he saw her nude in the guest room earlier. He noted that she looked rather attractive at that moment. Attractive in the curious way that an insects finds a venus fly trap. Something you would not want to be entangled with, yet somehow do… He brushed off the thought quickly.

He knew for certain that a one night stand with Hemione Granger was definitely not something he could deal with at that point and time.

She in turn wanted to weep, but was too distracted by the metaphorical knots her guts were twisting themselves into. Her mind reeled with raw emotion, regret, confusion… anger. How could she… cheat on Ron!

"Granger…" he said somberly drawing her glare back to his grey eyes.

"You don't understand what we just did!" she screeched. "You don't… can't even begin to…" she groaned yet again and grasped the table with all the strength she could muster.

"I'm sure I can make you feel better by quickly obliviating you and making you forget that you have been in a rather illicit situation…" he ducked as he avoided the porcelain cup that shattered quickly on the wall behind him.

"Malfoy… now is not the time for…"

"However," he continued nonchalantly "my current wand is horribly mismatched with my ability so I'll just leave you to it then. Feel free to purge your own memory as you will and I will do the same."

As he stood up to leave she felt the anger rise up in her throat. "Where are you going! You don't get to do this Malfoy! You don't get to walk away as if nothing…"

"Nothing happened." He said with a firm finality before disapparating out of her kitchen.

As her cat growled violently at the sudden lack of a scratching post, she sank down to the floor and put her head in her hands.

Curiously, at the end of the night on that day, though racked with guilt and anger and confusion, she never wept. Somehow as she drifted off listlessly into dreamland, her mind knew that if she weren't so uptight and stubborn and if she didn't overthink her mind into a stupor every single day of her life… If she weren't Hermione Granger, she would have no problem admitting to herself that she couldn't cry because she had no need to. . . Because, somewhere in the dark reaches of her selfish heart (the same heart that raged at the thought of being tied down in the concept of being a future wife), on that day… something began to stir.