A/N: I know that it has been an inexcusably long wait, but I do have a very good excuse. My computer broke not once, but twice in the middle of writing this chapter. I was just lucky that I had it backed up on a zip drive. But I had to send my computer off and wait for them to fix it. Then I got it back after about two weeks, had it for two days, and it broke again. But the good news is that they replaced my stupid computer with a new one because these last two times brought it to a grand total of six times that my computer has broken with the same problem every time. So to get this chapter done… I was borrowing friends' computers, writing sections in emails and emailing them to myself… it was rather pathetic if I do say so myself.
But the good news is…. This is the final chapter of Moments of Sanity. Very sad, but also a relief. I cannot promise anything right now, but there is the possibility that there will be a sequel. But at the very least there will probably be an epilogue. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
"The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day."
-Anna Mary Robertson Moses
Moments of Sanity
Chapter Twenty-Five: Echoes of an Old Life
Travelling by Portkey only lasted a few seconds, not nearly enough time for the whirling sensation to clear her hysterical thoughts. She supposed that that was the appeal of travelling by Portkey, but at the moment she felt a strong longing for Muggle travel. At least then she would have had hours to get her emotions in check, to reel in her gallivanting thoughts, but instead it took mere minutes to arrive at the Ministry and then Floo to the lobby of St. Mungo's. The white walls were everywhere, overbearing, and she felt like she was in a nightmare. Her limbs were tense, her self-control like a tiny string pulled nearly to its breaking point. She could feel her calm exterior splintering, but she refused to let anyone see her brokenness. She wasn't one for failure, and her time in Berlin was supposed to have healed her, but she was still as shattered underneath as she had been when she left. She was beginning to think that this was something that couldn't be healed, at least not fully. She couldn't ask her love to fade away and heal into a small scar instead of a gaping wound. She could only cover it again and again as time passed. The question was how long it would take to bury it enough that she could appear normal. That was the goal after all, right? To appear normal? To appear like she hadn't just fused her heart with another person's and then been forced to rip them apart again with her own hands? That was the goal, right?
And what would she do when her duty was done here? Would she return to Berlin in an attempt to find the Hermione she used to be? Or was that just a glorified attempt to run away? She was beginning to worry if life was even worth the agony of living it.
Hermione felt sick and dizzy, but she forced herself to step into a lift. It was empty, thankfully, and she tried not to listen to the voice that called out the different levels. She knew what level she was nearing, what words she would hear over the speaker before she could reach the floor where Luna would be located, and she couldn't handle it. She pressed the button to let her out on the second floor. She would just have to take the stairs, that would be easier. She would work her way up in the literal sense. The stairwell, too, was empty. Her footsteps echoed in the wide space, reminding her of her solitude. She'd underestimated how difficult it would be to climb all those flights of stairs. Now along with her footsteps, the sounds of her panting filled the space. She kept her eyes focused on the steps, both to prevent falling and prevent her mind from wandering. And then she was in front of the door of the Janus Thickey Ward, the exact floor she had been trying to avoid. Perhaps the elevator would have been a better choice after all. At the least the escape could have been much quicker. Before she could even acknowledge how incredibly stupid her actions were, her hand was on the knob, turning it quickly and pushing the door open.
She was surprised at how utterly the same it all looked. She felt as though these walls and floors should be changed as much as she. They should show the wear and tear of moving on from something you had hoped never to have to let go. Instead the floors were pristine and shiny, reflecting the lights overhead. Her legs moved down the hall with surprising ease, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be back here. She glided toward the door, his door, and she felt like she was flying. She should have known this would happen. It was like a magnet. She was connected to this place, connected to him, and she had to come back here. There was no staying away. The door loomed large in front of her-- the gateway to another world, another life. There was no window, no way of looking in; she'd have to enter if she wanted to see him. She placed her hand against the door, feeling the electricity of both excitement and fear race through her. She still knew the spell to open the door. She glanced around the hall and there was no one out to stop her. She took a deep breath, the longing nearly palpable, and glanced at the patient's label next to the door.
Patient 2311.
Patient 2311? That... that was not Draco. She remembered specifically that his patient number was 1431. He wasn't here. This room wasn't theirs anymore. Suddenly the electricity was gone. And though the disappointment was there, she felt largely relieved. She supposed that he had probably been moved to a different room, perhaps because he suddenly started exhibiting entirely different symptoms. He would no longer have been violent or a danger to himself or anyone else. He would have been more vulnerable, more like a child trapped in an adult's body. If the spell had worked according to the specifications she had intended, he would still remember small, basic, instinctual things. He would be entirely capable of taking care of himself. He would still maintain all his physical abilities from before the spell, mainly because of muscle memory more than actual psychological memories. And though he wouldn't remember his own ability to do magic, there would be that intrinsic feeling that there was something in him, something extraordinary. She wondered if the healers might have deduced what caused the change in him. Perhaps then they would have moved him to a more appropriate location in the ward. There would no longer be a need to keep him in isolation to protect himself and others.
Perhaps this was for the best. Fate knew better than she, and maybe she shouldn't see him again. A clean break would be easier. Or less difficult anyway. It was somehow easier now to return to the stairwell and continue her trek to the maternity ward. The stairs seemed like less of challenge, the walls didn't seem so close, the air was more breathable. It was suddenly only physical, just one foot in front of the other. There was no more internal struggle, no more battle. It was as though the choice had been made for her. It didn't matter if part of her longed to see him, because she couldn't. Fate had made the choice that was so hard for her to make. She'd started the process, but inevitably, it had been taken out of her hands.
It was for the best.
She hated that that had become something like her anthem, the thing that allowed her to keep moving when she felt like she could do nothing but stand still. She reached her destination and paused in the stairwell, taking a moment to calm her breathing and wipe her eyes. Today wasn't about her. It couldn't be. She just needed to stay focused on Luna and her joy. It was when she thought about herself and her own problems that things got messy. The door opened easily and the hallway she entered was much more lively than the one she'd just left. There were families gathered in several places, laughter ringing through the hall. . An older woman looked through the glass at the nursery of newborns with crystal-clear tears flowing through the wrinkled grooves on her face. Hermione wandered if she was seeing her first grandchild or perhaps even a great-grandchild. She wondered if she would ever know that kind of joy. She couldn't see how. She couldn't imagine loving anyone else enough to have his child. She just couldn't imagine ever coming to love someone in the way she loved Draco now. She wasn't even sure if her love for Draco would ever even fade enough to allow another love.
"Hermione."
The voice was little more than a whisper, but it sliced through her thoughts like the sharpest knife. Her spine instinctively straightened and her hand tightened on the wand that she only just realized remained in her hand.
"No, Harry."
She heard him breathe deeply behind her back and she closed her eyes, wishing she could will him away. She couldn't look at him. So much of that day was wrapped up with him. She knew that technically, she couldn't blame him, but it didn't change how her heart lurched at the thought of him and her eyes burned with tears.
"Just leave me alone, Harry. I can't do this now."
"But--" he began.
"No, Harry. I'm here trying to be a good friend to Luna. But if you push this, I will leave. I told you I'm not ready to speak to you, not now. I will leave if you make me."
She heard him step away. But he was Harry Potter, and he needed the last word.
"I am sorry, Hermione. I hate that I hurt you. I was distracted and not myself. I didn't realize how much he meant to you."
"Stop. Stop!" She had dropped her wand to the ground and wrapped her arms around her middle as if to protect herself. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was biting her lip so hard she could taste the coppery presence of blood.
He paused and she could sense that he wanted to say more, but after a moment's hesitation, he moved away. She opened her eyes and saw that he was several paces ahead of her, waiting with his back turned. She realized that he would have to show her to either Luna's room or where the rest of the Weasleys were waiting.
She cleared her throat quietly and he began moving forward. She followed him down the hallway, turned right, and then made a left into a waiting room. The small room had virtually been conquered by redheads. There were two people in one corner who were not a part of the group, and they were cowering away from the twins who were nearby. She couldn't blame them. She felt a little like cowering at the moment herself.
"Hermione! You came!" It was Molly's voice she heard first, and Molly's arms that started the small hug which quickly escalated into Hermione being smothered by every redhead in the room. She noticed that Harry remained by the door, and she was grateful. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but failed. It was Arthur who first realized that she was shaking. He removed his arms and stepped back, which made the twins behind him step back as well. Bill and Charlie were never one for hugs and they let go quickly without encouragement. She was now left with the only two female Weasleys.
"Let her breathe. Molly, you're squeezing the poor girl to death," Arthur replied calmly and casually.
The two let go reluctantly. She waited for the questions she knew would come. The 'How are you?' or the 'How was your trip?' or even 'What have you been up to?' But none of them came. Instead, there was silence. It was thick in the air, so much so that she felt she might choke on it.
She ended up breaking the silence, and they all appeared relieved.
"So, I'm guessing that she hasn't given birth yet? Seeing as how you all are still in here, rather than storming her room?"
"George and I actually already did the storming thing, but we were a bit early." Fred frowned.
George shuddered in response to the memory. "The sight was not at all pleasant."
Though in the past, Hermione would have laughed outright at such a comment, she felt relieved that she could at least feel the smallest hint of contentment hum below the surface.
Silence overtook them again as they all settled into seats around the room. The quiet lasted for so long that Hermione was beginning to think she could distinguish between the sounds of different people's breathing.
It was then that the only missing redhead rushed into the room panting, with a wide grin on his face.
"It's a girl!" Ron yelled.
The excitement and laughter rang loud in her ears.
"A girl?" Mrs. Weasley cried. Her expression was both incredulous and ecstatic, as though she'd resigned herself to dealing with herds of boys for her entire life.
"A girl, Arthur! We have a granddaughter!"
"We do." Arthur smiled. "And our first grandchild at that. And it took us until our youngest to get a kid willing to give us one."
"Hello! Still the youngest here." Ginny huffed.
"Youngest son, darling," Mrs. Weasley explained with a pat on Ginny's shoulder.
Harry laughed from his perch in the corner of the room, and Hermione watched him make eye contact with Ginny. She knew that Mrs. Weasley still had her heart set on seeing Ginny and Harry together, and Hermione was wondering if that wish weren't too far-fetched anymore. But at the same time, the Harry that she'd seen before she left was nothing like the Harry she'd always known, and she wouldn't wish the new Harry on Ginny.
But as Harry moved to Ron and engulfed him in a friendly hug, she thought he looked much better than the last time she had seen him. He looked happier, and the bags beneath his eyes were much less noticeable. His posture was relaxed and he seemed carefree and at home among his friends. She wondered if his strange behavior had dissipated with Lucius's death or if its symptoms had gradually disappeared.
"Congratulations, Ron." She tried to smile, but she wasn't sure if she had pulled it off. The expression felt unnatural on her face.
"Hermione." He smiled. "I'm so glad you're here. Luna will be so happy to see you, too. She actually wants to see you for a few moments alone before everyone comes in."
Hermione nodded and followed Ron from the room. Luna's room was at the end of the hallway and Ron, like the rest of the Weasleys, appeared unsure of what to say to her. He stopped at the next-to-last door and gestured for Hermione to enter. The door opened with a high-pitched screech, and then she heard Luna call out tiredly.
"Hermione?"
"I'm here." She stepped around a curtain to see Luna holding a small bundle in her arms. Her golden hair was wet with sweat and stuck to her forehead, but the smile on her face seemed to illuminate the entire room.
Hermione stepped up next to the bed and gazed down at the newest Weasley. "You both look beautiful, Luna. Have you decided on a name?"
"Eveline." Luna smiled. "Eveline Cecilia Weasley."
"She's wonderful." Hermione felt the smile on her face, and for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt as if she was brushing home with her fingertips. That thing she'd been fighting to get back since the war-- that sense of normalcy and contentment and just home-- was here within her reach, and she felt the peace well up inside her.
"Hermione. I wanted you to be her godmother, if you'll accept."
She felt overwhelmed. But she didn't need the slight hesitation she took.
"Of course, I will." It might be her only chance to see a child grow up. If she couldn't have her own, she'd love nothing more than to be a part of the life of the youngest Weasley.
'Listen, Hermione," Luna started. "We've given you your space these last few months because we thought you needed some time alone."
"I did," Hermione interrupted. "I still do, I think. I love the Weasleys, but being in that room with all of them was suffocating."
"I think you've had enough time alone, Hermione. A lot has happened since you left, much of which concerns you."
Hermione nodded and figured as much. She'd left the country before she could give her testimony about Lucius's attack. Normally, they would have tracked her down by now, but they did have Lucius's memories, and everyone was so glad to have the ordeal over that they had been willing to put the paperwork on the back burner for a while.
"I know you were probably planning on heading back to Berlin after a few days, but I think it's time you moved back here permanently. There is something that is going to need your round-the-clock supervision." There was a knowing glint in Luna's eye, and Hermione laughed.
"You can count on me to help with Eveline anytime, Luna. I won't put up a fight."
"That's sweet, Hermione, but I was referring to something else."
There was a loud knock on the door followed by two softer ones.
"That's Ron." Luna smiled. "He always knocks like that. Annoys the hell out of me."
Hermione tried to laugh again, but she felt oddly nervous around everyone but Luna.
"Honey?" Ron called after opening the door a crack. "Sorry... I held them off as long as I could, but they're all dying to see Eveline!"
Hermione could feel the small tremors of anxiety running through her limbs, but she nodded in acceptance to Luna anyway. She hadn't much of a choice.
Hermione situated herself against the wall to allow room for the influx of people. She listened to Molly raving over her granddaughter, and watched Ron beaming proudly. She felt Harry's eyes on her, but kept her gaze fixed decidedly elsewhere.
"Oh damn!" Ron huffed.
"Language, Ronald." Molly frowned, "What's wrong dear?"
He ran a hand through his mussed hair. "Oh nothing, Mum. I just forgot Luna's overnight bag in all the rush, that's all. I left it in the kitchen, I think. I'll just run back to the Burrow right quick and get it. It's no problem; after all I did promise... " he trailed off before finishing his thought and Hermione saw her opening.
"I'll get it! Is it just at the Burrow?"
"No! Hermione... let me, really!" Ron called.
Hermione needed the excuse to get away. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she felt on the verge of collapsing from stress and every time she closed her eyes, she swayed from dizziness.
"Nonsense, Ron. Stay with your wife and child. I'll only be a moment."
She heard several of them call after her to stop, but she turned over her shoulder before they could stop her, and the squeezing sensation gave way to the quiet peace of the Burrow. The silence was embracing, welcoming and she closed her eyes in relief.
"It's about time!" a familiar voice called. "I was beginning to think I'd never get an update!"
His familiar drawl registered at about the same time that she opened her eyes to see platinum hair and grey eyes. There was a single moment of bliss that felt as though fireworks were exploding in her chest, and then her legs were giving way and darkness conquered her vision. Before she fell completely into unconsciousness, she heard her name on his lips. But it wasn't the name she longed to hear.
"Granger!"
His voice sent a burning sensation from the tip of her fingers to her deepest core, and then there was nothing beyond the black.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
When she came to, her heart was still beating fast and her entire body ached. Harsh pain radiated specifically from where the back of her head had cracked against the floor. How embarrassing. Her insane thoughts had now given way to hallucinations. She could only be thankful that no one was here to witness her pathetic episode. That was when she heard the voices, and if she hadn't been unwilling to alert them to her conscious state, she would have groaned. By the sound of it, nearly all the Weasleys were present.
"I tried to stop her."
"We all did."
It appeared she'd only been out for a few seconds. Had they been so worried about her that they'd felt she couldn't go anywhere alone? She had been living perfectly fine on her own for the last few months; she didn't need any help. Though at the moment, she had to admit, she was glad for their presence. She had no desire to move and take care of herself, and it wouldn't hurt to let Molly do it for her. She supposed she could relinquish control for just a little while. It had been such a very long day.
"This was a terrible way for her to find out."
"Really? I think it's perfect!" That was definitely one of the twins. "We were worried about finding a way to tell her, and now we don't have to!"
"Oh George, don't be so insensitive." So Molly was here then.
Find out what? she wondered. Had she missed something back at St. Mungo's that perhaps she should have picked up on? She had been rather distracted the entire time. She had been trying not to think too hard, but at the same time, the moments of silence were when the unwanted things began to creep in, so she'd been concentrating on trying to keep a nice balance. She was just so sad that they had to see her this way. She hated feeling weak, but hated even more to appear to be so. These were her very best friends, her family. And they knew her to be the strong, stubborn, brilliant witch who never saw a problem she couldn't solve. Well, except for one. The most important one.
Suddenly she found herself wishing again for unconcsciousness. It was so uncomplicated. She was beginning to think she might spend her entire life analyzing her decision to Obliviate Draco, trying to decide if there might have been a better way or if she had chosen the only solution.
She felt a damp cloth against her forehead and opened her eyes slowly, leaving the comfort of darkness behind. The light caused little pinpricks of pain, but she adjusted quickly.
"Oh, Hermione dear! We're so sorry! How are you feeling?"
She wasn't sure exactly what she was feeling. Pain. Disappointment. Embarrassment. And a bit of nausea.
"What are you all doing here? Shouldn't you be at St. Mungo's with Ron and Luna?" She asked.
George laughed. "In this family, babies aren't exactly a novelty. If you've seen one, you've seen them all."
Fred leaned over her, his wide grin dominating her view. "And that is why I'll end up being her favorite uncle instead of him."
"None of you really answered my question. Why did you all follow me?" Everyone stilled, glancing back and forth, until finally most eyes rested on someone on the very outer edge of the group whom she hadn't noticed until now. Hermione sighed.
"Harry? What's going on? What am I missing?"
Fred and George took her by the elbows and helped her gently into a chair. Harry took one step forward and the rest of the group moved back, for which she was thankful. She still felt slightly overwhelmed.
"You've been gone for a while, Hermione," he started.
She felt sick. Either her body felt like she was spinning or the world around her had sped up its rotation. Harry seemed nervous, but she noticed that he made no attempt to move any closer to her.
"And many things have changed in the past few months."
She only nodded in reply. Nothing felt even remotely the same. Being back here, she could see her old life, feel the ghosts of it moving around her, trapped forever in a time to which she wished nothing more than to return. Harry looked around at the other Weasleys, and then glanced toward the back door of the Burrow.
"Why don't we sit out on the porch while we talk? Perhaps the fresh air would do us both some good."
Her legs didn't feel like her own as she followed him outside. What had happened to the fear she'd felt earlier in his presence? She was just so tired, weary. And he looked so much like the old Harry. As she stepped outside, the cool breeze made it easier to breathe. She realized she must have been sweating, as the air made patches of goose bumps rise on her skin. She closed her eyes tight, swaying in her place.
"Are you all right?" She felt his hand on her arm, steadying her.
"Yeah," she breathed. "I must have hit my head a little harder than I thought. I'm such a klutz."
He helped her to sit down on the stairs. "A klutz? What do you mean?"
She blanched and stuttered, "W-well, yeah. I mean, I just fell and hit my head?" She hated that it came out as a question.
Harry had an amused smile on his face, and she fought the blush threatening to stain her cheeks.
"You don't have to lie to me, Hermione. It was my fault anyway. I should have stopped you, or told you, or I don't know, do anything besides what I did. Or rather, what I didn't do."
"Harry. I hate to interrupt what is shaping up to be a very nice speech, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
He sighed and covered his face with his hands. "I know," he groaned. "I know that I'm just rambling. But there is no good way to start this, and I have no idea how to react. Maybe it's like an old sticking plaster. Maybe we should just rip it off quickly."
She thought about that for a moment. What needed to be done quickly? What could he possibly have to tell her?
"Did you really just compare me to an old sticking plaster, Potter?" A familiar voice called behind her.
She saw Harry's eyes widen moments before the recognition kicked in. Time ceased to exist, and the world both began and ended in that moment. Her heart seemed to fold in on itself, and it felt like it was collapsing and exploding at the same time. She felt disjointed, like she was no longer a whole person, but instead, pieces of herself that were all screaming and trying to move in different directions. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, she did manage to turn her head, and the feeling in her chest was better and worse than she could possibly describe.
"Don't faint again, Granger."
She'd never really listened to anything Draco Malfoy told her to do, and she wasn't about to start now. She felt Harry catch her head moments before unconsciousness took her.
She wasn't out for very long this time, but when she came to she was lying across the porch swing, Harry was gone, and the love of her life was facing away from her, seated on the steps she had previously occupied. The swing squeaked with her movement and he glanced at her over his shoulder.
"They say third time's the charm. I'm not sure whether that would be in your favor though, so if I were you, I would try to stay awake this time."
She couldn't think. Any stressful moments in her past were usually filled with racing thoughts and ideas flooding her mind, but she felt curiously blank at the moment. Maybe she was in shock. Or awe. Or both. She could only look at him, absorb everything about him. She couldn't help but feel that this was some cruel trick. Would she wake up back in Berlin broken and alone?
"I-I don't understand."
He sighed and hunched further over his knees. "You've fainted twice now, Granger. The third time might just stick."
She shook her head fiercely. That wasn't what she'd meant at all. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he stopped her with a raised hand.
"I know," he sighed. "I was trying to diffuse the tension."
"I can't--" She closed her eyes tight, "What is-- I can't--" She gasped. "I can't breathe."
It didn't matter whether this moment was true or false, she still felt as though her heart was breaking all over again. She couldn't stop the flood of tears from her eyes. They ran down her cheeks and across her lips until she tasted salt.
"Granger," he sighed.
He was closer now, leaning against the railing across from her swing.
"Tell me how to do this right. I want to know what to say, how to fix this, but I don't." His voice was rough, strained.
"Just tell me how," she pleaded. "How is this possible?"
He slumped onto the ground, and her heart beat faster when she saw the muscles flex in his arms, and the way the sun danced across the hollow of his throat. Maybe if this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.
"I'm still a little fuzzy on the details, but I will explain it as best as I can. But there are some things about which I am just as much in the dark as you."
And so his story started.
"I spent three weeks in St.Mungo's being poked and prodded by different healers who all wanted to know what had changed about me, but I couldn't tell them anything. I didn't even know my own name until they told me. They taught me basic things... things that I originally learned when I was just a wee babe. But then at the end of the third week I had my first visitor. I thought perhaps it might be this beautiful brunette who occupied my dreams and my earliest memory, but it was a prat with a weird scar on his forehead."
She released a choked laugh, but didn't dare to interrupt.
"He was actually rather rude, but he promised that we used to know each other, and all the healers were just falling over themselves to have a chat with my visitor, so I decided to listen to him. He said we'd attended school together, actually used to hate each other, but that he wanted to help me get my memory back. I asked him why, and he told me that he owed it to a friend. Of course, he had to lay down some pretentious ground rules. He made me promise to let him have control over my so-called recovery. He would determine if we needed to slow down, things like that. I was still a bit unsure, but he said he'd brought something to convince me. He pulled out a deep, black basin, told me that it was called a Pensieve, and emptied a glowing, silver substance into it. I thought he was mental when he told me to lean inside it, but I figured that I didn't have much to lose. I fell into what looked like a dream. There was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, the same color as mine, chasing after a tiny little fellow holding a broom twice his height. His hair was nearly white and he had this angry little smirk on his face. I didn't even need to hear the woman calling after her son to know that that little boy was me and the beautiful woman my mother."
She noticed that he was short of breath and it seemed the story was difficult to recount.
"Draco," she whispered kindly.
"No," he stopped her again. "I need to do this. We both need answers."
"Needless to say, I accepted Potter's offer. He refused to tell me anything about how I had lost my memory, only that it had been unavoidable. He gained special permission, like only the Boy-Who-Lived could, to remove me from St. Mungo's and have me taken care of by an in-home specialist. Of course, that was just Gryffindor-speak for Weasleys. They brought me here and I've been doing therapy every since. I spent the first few weeks exploring memories of my childhood. They were selective of course. Potter told me later that the memories were actually my father's. The Ministry apparently has all of the memories of my father's life locked away in some room."
She felt herself pale. Had he seen all of Lucius' memories? She shuddered in response to the awful memories her own mind drudged up, but he didn't seem to notice and pressed on.
"There were, of course, large portions of my life missing, as my father wasn't exactly what some might call attentive to his child, but Potter had another solution for that. I had kept journals from the time that I could write until I left Hogwarts. Potter somehow had my last journal and thought it was worth a shot to see if I ever kept any others. Turns out he had been right. He found nearly a dozen more for me to go through."
She knew exactly where Harry had gotten Draco's final journal. Those last few days were blurry, but she did know that the Malfoy spell books and Draco's infinite black bag of belongings must have been left behind and eventually taken by the Ministry for their investigation. The only thing that hadn't been confiscated was the emerald locket hidden beneath her robes.
"After I received all those memories, I moved on to some that Potter had collected from some childhood friends. I believe there were some from Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, and quite a few from Pansy Parkinson. She seemed to have paid rather close attention to me when we were younger. I was of course subjected to Potter's and Weasley's memories of me as well. They said something about not wanting me to see myself in the way Pansy saw me."
A laugh bubbled up through her tears, breaking the surface swiftly and filling her up with joy.
"And there was so much to go through, it took months quite literally. And even then, it was like seeing the disjointed, abridged version of your own life. What is it that the Muggles call them? Ah, yes, movies!" He laughed, and she yearned to know the memory behind it. "And it was confusing at first-- seeing so many other people's memories of my life, but having no idea what was actually going through my mind. The journals did help with that. They helped me to better understand exactly what kind of person I truly was. Though I was rather surprised at how much my personal thoughts differed from my actions. I guess that's childhood though. Or at least that's the reason Molly gave me."
His story slowed, and he closed his eyes briefly before opening them once more, a determined glint blazing.
"Potter—Harry…" he corrected, "managed to get his hands on a few of Severus's memories of my time after Hogwarts, though I must say I could have done without some of the horror I saw there. And..." he paused. "Those are the last memories I received."
The chasm in her chest widened. She didn't know what she had been expecting. Only she really knew of their time together, so he couldn't possibly remember anything other than the girl he'd seen in memories of Hogwarts. Some part of her mind thought that he had to sense it on a deeper level, or he wouldn't be here explaining these things to her now. She had dared to hope for a moment that he had miraculously remembered how much she loved him. She couldn't understand a world where Draco Malfoy could look at her and not know that every beat of her heart, every breath from her lungs, was solely for him.
"I have, however, made some assumptions. And though I don't exactly know for sure. I'm guessing there was more to our history than petty arguments and childhood name-calling."
She cleared her throat unsurely.
"And why is that?"
"Well... first off... Weasley is the worst whisperer I've ever heard. It's like his mouth is a megaphone. And Potter had a tendency to avoid any conversations or memories concerning you. And any time you were mentioned, Lovegood would always look at me queerly as though she expected me to explode at any second."
Luna. Hermione wasn't sure how her friend had managed to know everything she knew, but she was grateful. Without Luna, her last moments with Draco, the Draco who loved her, might never have been possible.
"And then..." he continued, "there is the fact that though your Hogwarts self may have been younger with bushier hair, you were without a doubt the beautiful brunette that I remembered from St. Mungo's. The one who had looked so sad as she left me that I wanted nothing more than to make her smile forever. To make you smile."
She tried to smile, but it was a poor imitation. He didn't know what he was asking. He still had no idea that she was the one who had taken away his memories. There was so much he didn't know. He didn't know anything of his time on the run or how he had been caught or why he had been put into St. Mungo's. He seemed almost happy now without all those things weighing him down. She didn't see the same sorrow in his eyes that had haunted him from the beginning. This was a new Draco, a different Draco. She'd taken so much away from him. Could she take this away too?
Her eyes rose to him and she noticed that his hands were clenched tight on the railing, his posture ramrod straight, and his gaze was absorbing her every reaction.
"I-I've resigned myself to the fact that there will be parts of my life that I will never get back, Granger. Harry has provided me with no specifics, though I do have a general idea of what my life was like during the war. But I know that there is something bigger than that missing. I can feel it. It's different than all the other holes in my memory. It's like a void so deep that everything else collapses into it. Without that piece, I'll never be me. Help me, Hermione. I know you can. I need to know what happened between the time I was on the run with Severus and that first memory I have of you in St. Mungo's. What happened to make you leave? Help me remember, please."
Help him? Hadn't she been trying to do that all along? But all she had done from the beginning was hurt him. Hurt him by helping him. She couldn't keep this from him. It was his life; he had a right to know. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for him. Like trying to build a puzzle with only half the pieces.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?" There was such hope in his voice.
She nodded, and immediately Harry stepped out onto the porch. She wanted to be offended, but it wasn't as if Harry didn't know absolutely everything that Draco knew at this point.
"Draco, would you mind grabbing the Pensieve?" Harry asked.
Draco rose silently and disappeared into the house.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You hate him. You were so angry with me. I don't understand."
Harry kept his eyes fixed away from her, but he didn't leave.
"I'm not proud of the way I acted those last few months, Hermione. I was-- was not even remotely myself. I thought I was through with the Dark Arts when the war ended, and even more so when Lucius was captured. When he escaped I just lost it. And I wasn't lying when I said I loved you, Hermione. I always loved you. But I was blinded by my own hatred. After you left, I saw what I had done to you and how my actions had made your already difficult situation worse. After Lucius attacked you, it woke me up. The Ministry confiscated some things from your home, namely the books from Malfoy Manor and that clever black bag. I-I was curious. I read about the spell, read your notes on it, even read some of Malfoy's journal."
Her jaw tightened involuntarily at the intrusion into Draco's privacy. But hadn't she done the same thing?
"If I hadn't been such an arse, if I had listened to you... I could have postponed Lucius's Kiss to give you time to figure things out. I forced you into your decision. It still took me a few weeks to fully realize how idiotic I had been. It took Luna taking me to St. Mungo's to see him to put me in my place. So I thought it only right that I try to put things right. I owed you that much. I'm just sorry I couldn't do better than I have."
Her chest felt lighter, like she could just float away. He truly was like a brother to her, and it had been so difficult to lose him.
"Oh, Harry!"
She crossed to him in seconds and threw her arms around him.
"I can't ask for better than what you've given me. You've been-- you are-- just…thank you. Thank you. This means more than you can possibly know."
He held her close for a moment longer before stepping away. He shoved his hands into his pockets and a serious expression crossed his face.
"Anything for you, Hermione." He sighed. "Now. He's used to the process by now, he's been doing it for a while, but I'm not sure how he will react to your memories. He usually handles the difficult ones really well. I try to alternate the good with the bad."
She smiled. That was exactly what their love was about. There were the good and the bad all woven into one dysfunctional, beautiful relationship.
"I'm scared." She spoke honestly. How does one go about doing something like this? It was epic and life-changing and ineffable.
"Don't be." Harry smiled. "I think a part of him knows already. He dreams about you often. In fact, I think that you've pretty much consumed his every thought since we ran out of memories."
"But why? He should only know me by the memories you've given him. Why is he so fascinated by me?"
Harry looked at her as though she were missing some key detail.
"Hermione, you were the very first thing he saw in this world-- his first true memory that was entirely his own. Those first few seconds after you Obliviated him were all he had for those three weeks in St. Mungo's before I came."
She gasped, "I didn't think—I didn't know! I assumed that it would take him a minute to come around, by which time I would have been gone. No wonder he's curious."
"I think it's beyond curiousity at this point, Hermione."
She nodded, unable to speak. She suddenly felt cruel. He must have wondered about her, expected her to come visit him. Or maybe he just assumed she was another doctor. She couldn't think about this now. It was all too much. She moved on to her next worry.
"But what about the spell? It was bad enough having to see him like that myself. I can't subject him to that. You don't-- you can't understand what the spell was like for him."
"I think the good memories he'll be making will outweigh the bad. He's a good man. It took me a long time to realize it, and granted he wasn't really Draco Malfoy for much of that time. But I'm happy for you, nonetheless."
"Thank you, Harry! I still don't think the words can quite cover it, but thank you!"
Harry laughed and stepped further away. "I think he's waiting inside for me to leave. The Gryffindor in me can still feel when Slytherins are close by."
Harry clasped her hand in his for a moment, and she felt encouragement wash over her. She'd forgotten what their friendship felt like. The past few months, she'd been drowning in her own grief. The fresh air was exhilarating.
Harry left, and she heard the small pop of Apparition. She had a feeling that all of the family had returned to the hospital to welcome the newest member of their family and to give the two of them some privacy. A moment passed in silence before Draco returned. He held the Pensieve reverently. She could imagine how he must have first looked at the magical object, the thing that allowed the return of his memories-- most of them.
She wondered how he would react to these memories. Her heart ached for that moment when he would surface from the memories and look at her with the love she remembered in his eyes. But he was a different person now. Just because he was to witness the way they fell in love didn't mean this new Draco would fall for her in the same way.
She couldn't imagine how much pressure he must be feeling. He had to decide whether he would accept and conform to the old Draco that he saw in his memories or become someone new, and all without the necessary sense of self to make good decisions. Was it selfish to want to continue their relationship now? Didn't he deserve some time to focus on himself and find out who he was or who he wanted to be?
"You're as pale as a ghost, Granger."
She shivered. There were so many thoughts running through her mind as she contemplated which ones she would show him first, which ones were most important. If her goal was to make him fall in love with her all over again, she would have to do this right. But was falling in love again what was best for him?
"I'm just—this is slightly overwhelming." She tried not to let him see her shaking.
"I can definitely sympathize." He smirked.
Gods, he looked so much like her Draco. Every fibre of her being was alive and thrumming at his closeness. She wanted to touch him. She still hadn't felt his skin under hers.
Choosing the memories was difficult. It would take him weeks to get through all of it, but she was anxious and wanted him to know as quickly as possible.
She cleared her throat solemnly. "I'm going to concentrate on the major moments during your first run-through. Then if—if you'd like, you can explore a bit deeper."
She placed her wand to her temple and concentrated on the first memory. Necessary though it was, it was painful.
Hermione had checked in with her supervisor and was ushered (a little more quickly than she would have liked) to the door of her patient. Her supervisor, Anna, had left with a smile and a whispered, "Good Luck!" She stood in front of his door and scanned a label that read "Patient 1431." She took a deep breath and placed her hand on the doorknob. She slowly turned it, and watched in horror, as the… the… thing in front of her tore at its clothes. His hair was long and unkempt and his face looked unmistakably tired. He had deep circles beneath his eyes and his always pointed features seemed to protrude even more. He tore at his flesh, and seen through his ripped attire, his characteristically pale skin was littered with scars, many of them concentrated around a forearm that bore no Dark Mark. And that was what spurred her into action. She closed the door and fled towards him,
"Malfoy," she said quietly, still maintaining her distance. When he didn't respond she stepped a little closer to him and repeated herself. "Malfoy."
His actions progressively became more violent.
"Malfoy!" she tried yelling, but he still had yet to notice her presence. She did the only thing she could think of to do; she placed her hand on his and said, "Draco?"
He immediately calmed and his eyes snapped up forcefully to meet hers. The eyes that she had once categorized as a deep molten silver that glinted maliciously were now dull and… dead. She took in the scars and scratches on his face and the unshed tears in his eyes and she looked at him in a way she had never looked at Draco Malfoy before.
With pity.
She took a deep breath and placed the long, silvery wisp in the basin.
She followed that memory with the first time the spell faltered and she realized that the old Draco Malfoy was still buried inside of him. Then, she added the memory of when she cleaned him up and cut his hair.
She tried to remain objective as she filtered through the memories. It was the first time she'd really allowed herself to remember since she'd left for Berlin, and she couldn't afford to get caught up in them now.
She quickly added his first hints at the curse. She left out her visit to Malfoy Manor and her date with Harry. She focused on only her interactions with Draco. She blushed as she added the memory of their first kiss.
She gave a high-pitched squeak as he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug. She tensed as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck, but relaxed when she felt his tears soaking her skin. This… was the exact opposite of Draco Malfoy. His body was in complete rebellion against him. Her brown eyes met his gray ones, and he began to slowly inch closer.
Closer.
Closer.
His eyes were dull, still under the command of the spell, which for some reason continued to compel him forward until his lips met hers.
She didn't include the incident at Harry's office when she'd seen him basically set fire to the entire place, but she did add her memory of leaning on Draco's shoulder as she vented about the experience. And then she added their second kiss. Which had ended up being so much more than a kiss.
Her kisses were hungry and passionate and it was easy to get swept away. He caught her lower lip between his and sucked. A moan floated from her lips and caressed his face. Some of his anger floated back to the surface and he bit down on the lip between his teeth. The hands gripping his shoulders tightened and her fingernails dug into his skin. But he could tell she liked it. She needed the pain; it released her fear. His hand traveled to her thigh and with a sharp pull, she was straddling his lap. Their kisses didn't stop, and their tongues danced back and forth in a natural rhythm that fueled the heat coursing between them. It was Draco who won dominance, and his tongue explored her mouth with vigor. He traced the roof of her mouth with the tip of his tongue and she hissed. She sucked on his tongue as hard as she could and he groaned into her mouth. He broke away from her, moving to place kisses down her neck before he hesitated. He pulled back as he slowly realized that the spell was gone and he'd been kissing her of his own volition. His eyes opened and he watched as she whimpered at the loss of touch. She looked at him through lidded eyes, panting heavily. He could feel her breasts pushing against his chest and they rose and fell with each breath she took. Hermione stared at him for a moment and then her eyes, too, widened in recognition and in horror. With a small "oh!" her cheeks were flooded with a vibrant red as she climbed off his lap.
Then of course there was her reaction to the kiss.
She rushed toward the small toilet bound to the wall and doubled over, sweeping the hair out her face and holding it at the nape of her neck. A spasm gripped her stomach and she gagged as she was reintroduced to the extremely small meal she had eaten at the Burrow that morning. She gagged for a second time, but her stomach was already empty.
The memories washed over her more quickly than she could move them to the Pensieve.
"You're crazy," she breathed, backing up in an attempt to escape. Her back met the wall and he closed in on her like a predator stalking its prey.
"Not right now, love."
His fingers lightly caressed the skin of her throat and he whispered onto her lips, "Help me."
Her eyelashes lifted and she gazed at him in confusion. "What did you say?"
He stepped backwards, ending all contact between them. "I asked you to help me, Granger."
She added the long conversation they'd had about Draco's past. He'd filled her in on what happened after he'd left Hogwarts, how he watched his mother die, his three years on the run, and finally his capture and the spell cast by Lucius.
She was careful to put everything she knew about the spell into the memories. He had to know everything she had known about the spell. Maybe then he would understand why she had done what she did.
As they grew closer, the memories became more intimate and elaborate. There were memories of warm embraces and heated moments. There was the rather erotic memory of his sponge bath and the subtle changes that began happening in the spell.
She washed his hair twice because it had been so long since his last shampoo, marveling at how clean and fresh his body still seemed despite his lack of regular bathing. Tenderly, she cleaned his face with a damp cloth, feeling the high arch of his cheek bones beneath her fingers. She paid particular attention to his jaw. She abandoned the cloth, then, and ran the pad of her pointer finger across his jaw. Using a quick spell, she trimmed his hair a bit, but not too much. She moved down to his shoulders. Standing behind him, she drew the sponge up the slope of one and down the other, watching in fascination as the water trailed down his chest until it disappeared into the rest of the tub. She discarded the sponge, grabbed the soap, and worked up a rich foamy lather between her hands. Slowly she spread the soap over the taut muscles of his shoulders, allowing her hands to dance briefly over his neck. She began kneading the muscles, wanting to feel them underneath her hands. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling of his hard but pliant body.
Her hands wandered across his chest, slowly dragging the soap along the curve of his pectoral muscles. Her fingers were inching slowly down his torso when she felt a vice-like grip on both her hands.
Her eyes flew open to take in his long pale hands covering hers. She was behind him, with an arm on each side of his head.
"Draco?" she whispered.
Immediately, as though in reaction to her voice, his hands tightened sharply, crushing her fingers painfully and causing her to cry out.
"Draco? You're hurting me!" She tried to pull her hands back or nudge him with her elbows, but his grip was like iron. She could feel his nails beginning to leave indentions on her hand.
"I'm sorry. Please stop! Draco! Stop! Stop!" She was crying now. Finally, she managed to stand and maneuver an arm over his head so that she was facing him, but at an odd angle. She noticed then that his eyes were hazed over and realized that Draco wasn't doing this. It was the spell. She used all her strength to try and to pull her arms free. Her feet slid against the floor as she pulled away, unable to find purchase on the slick tile. Her eyes were squeezed shut with the pain which was almost too much to bear, when his grip abruptly disappeared, sending her flying backwards. The breath was knocked from her as she landed harshly. Barely lifting her head, her vision locked on lively, questioning, grey eyes.
She remember the way she had cried after she first translated the spell and read it to him.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's… I'm sorry. I, I—"
"Shut up, Granger."
"I-I'm fine."
"No, you're not, you're a Gryffindor. You'll never be fine."
Without taking the time to think about it, he hooked an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. She stiffened for a moment and then relaxed.
"I hate you," she sniffed.
"No, but you wish you did."
She stared at him, and her bleary, red eyes opened wide.
Then she cried. Again.
Then there was the time he had almost choked her to death. She didn't include the entire memory, because she knew the way he tended to let himself be plagued by guilt. She just incorporated enough for him to understand the level to which the spell had progressed.
She smiled as she moved on to her escape from her friends and her apartment to go to St. Mungo's. That was the first time they'd kissed without the spell having a hand in it.
She crossed to him, her heart pounding forcefully. She carefully placed her fingers on the straps holding him down, giving him an apologetic smile.
"I missed you," he sighed.
Tears welled in her eye, and she dropped to her knees beside him.
"I missed you, too."
And then she kissed him.
She found that she was shaking as she added the romantic moments that followed that kiss. The way he'd insisted she wear his mother's necklace still made her heart beat fast. She was reluctant to let him know about Lucius' attack on her at all. Perhaps later, once he'd had a chance to come to terms with all of this.
And finally she came to the moment that was at once both her most beautiful and haunting memory. Those final hours they shared together, the way their bodies had become one. She placed every moment of those hours into the basin. It was something that had branded her forever and she needed him to know every second of it, to be as changed by it as she.
And then she was done. All of their time together that she could bear to expose him to at this point was compacted into that silvery, swirling substance in Harry's Pensieve. She wasn't sure how long it would take for him to go through them all. Days at least. The anxiety pulsing through her system was maddening. Would he be her Draco again when this was finished? A shadow of the Draco she knew? Or someone else altogether?
She knew she would have to have patience. To give him time to absorb all these new things.
Several hours must have passed because the sun was straining against the horizon. She turned to Draco, realizing that this was the first time she'd seen him out of that horrible room at St. Mungo's. He was beautiful in the dull amber glow of the sunset.
"That should do it," she said quietly. "When you're finished with those, if you want to know more, just let me know."
She placed the Pensieve on the ground and then rose from her seated position. She stretched, feeling the tightness in her hips and back, and then smiled down shyly at him. She took one last deep breath, preparing herself to do what she knew would be heart-wrenching and nearly impossible. She smiled once more, and then turned to walk away before she could change her mind.
"Wait! Where are you going?" he called after her.
Her shoulders slumped, but she took a moment to build her resolve before turning around to face him.
"It's going to take you a few days to work your way through those memories. Some of them will be a bit difficult to watch," she warned.
"But I think it's something that you should do alone. The last thing I want to do is pressure you. I can't even begin to imagine what you're feeling right now or how confused you must be. And I don't want to add any more to that. Examine those memories and then do what you feel is best for you. Don't act in the way that you think the old Draco would or in a way that Harry would like you to or even me. But take your time. You've gained an entire life in a matter of months. Take some time to figure things out before you make any decisions. If you need to see me, Harry or any of the Weasleys, for that matter, can give you directions to my apartment."
She couldn't resist him any longer. She reached her hand out and covered his own for the tiniest moment. His skin was impossibly warm and smooth to the touch, and she felt the rush of affection swell in her chest. She still loved this man, no matter what memories he did or didn't have.
"Goodnight, Draco. Good luck."
With one final smile, she Apparated to the apartment she hadn't seen in months.
It was going to be a very long wait.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It had been a long wait indeed. After the first, tortuous twenty-four hours without any sleep or relief from her one-track thoughts, she'd shamefully resorted to using some dreamless sleep potion to knock her out. She would only stay awake long enough to shower and eat before forcing herself back into sleep.
If she wasn't quick about doing the necessary duties, unwanted thoughts began to creep into her mind. She couldn't think about how long it would take for him to go through the memories because then, inevitably, she would freak out whenever that amount of time had passed and he still hadn't come. She was trying so very hard not to be selfish. She was usually good at the whole selfless thing, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
Five days had passed, and it was taking all of her effort to keep Draco from consuming her every thought. She couldn't stop thinking about what his decision would be. Even if he chose her, she knew it would be very difficult for them to be together. Relationships were hard enough—the added complications of Draco's memory and their history would only add more obstacles to overcome. So rather than continuing to think about the very thing that was tearing her apart, she took another dose of dreamless sleep.
When she started to stir nearly twelve hours later, her mind felt blissfully blank. Like a clean slate. Perhaps it hadn't been such a bad thing to relive all those memories. She had been forced to deal with all the emotions she'd been avoiding. And she felt better, stronger because of it.
"I've never seen someone sleep for so long."
She gasped and fought the instinct to pull the covers up and hide beneath them.
She'd lost track of the amount of time that had passed, and she wasn't sure if it was now day or night, but he was there, sitting casually in a chair beside her bed in her darkened room. She could just barely make out his platinum hair, angular jaw, and straight nose. She could feel the beat of her heart in every nerve ending from her fingertips to her toes. It was loud in her ears, and she wondered if he could hear how nervous she was.
"Hi," she whispered.
It felt inadequate and foolish, but she didn't know what else to say.
He merely gave an amused smile, and returned the greeting.
"Hi."
Words failed her. Hell, her entire brain failed her. What should she say? And how should she act? If she appeared too excited, he might feel pressured to give her a positive answer. But at the same time, she could hardly act casual.
She decided on neither. She would wait until he brought it up. Only he knew why he had come here. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched.
"What day is it?"
"Friday," he answered simply, his eyes cast downward.
"I wasn't expecting you so soon." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"I gathered that," he chuckled.
She looked up to him, only to notice that his eyes were focused on her nighttime attire, and exactly how little it left to the imagination. She blushed and pulled the sheets up to her chin.
"How long ago did you finish?" she asked.
He was silent, and blinked a few times before answering. "Only a few hours ago."
"A few hours ago? Draco, I thought I told you to take your time!" Now that she looked at him, he looked exhausted. His hair was a mess, and there was stubble on his jaw.
He rolled his eyes, stood, and moved towards the sunlight streaming in through the window.
She lay back against the pillows and watched him. He seemed both tense and at ease. How was that possible? Perhaps it was the exhaustion that made him appear so loose, as though he might fall over at any second.
"Draco, this is ridiculous. Get some sleep and then we'll talk, I promise."
"Why did you leave?" His voice was raspy. He sounded even more tired than he looked.
"W-what?"
"Why did you leave me? If you loved me, why did you leave?"
He cut straight to the point. Maybe she should have brought it up first after all. Then she could at least have worked her way up to things like this.
"You-you wouldn't have remembered me." Her eyes were wide and she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.
"I didn't remember Harry either, but now I do."
She sighed. "It never occurred to me to do what Harry has done."
"You're the brightest witch in the world, Hermione."
She shuddered at hearing her name from his lips.
"In my defense, I was a little overwhelmed. Everything happened so quickly. I fell in love, lost my best friend, was nearly killed, and then had to-to make the one person whom I would never forget… forget me. It was more than I could bear."
He drew a hand through his hair down to the base of his neck. He gripped the tense muscles there, and closed his eyes.
"I can understand that. But you stayed away."
"I thought—I don't know!" The tears began, and she couldn't stop them. "I was scared… and broken. So broken that any wrong move could have shattered me into thousands of tiny, unfixable pieces. And you had told me to live splendidly, and I tried, Draco. I promise I tried. I travelled, and I did so many things that I'd always wanted to do, but my heart wasn't in it. In fact, my heart felt completely absent. Not just broken, but lost altogether."
She was a sobbing, self-loathing mess. She had no right to cry here in front of him, but he made no objection. He was at her side immediately, pulling her against his chest. He smelled divine, intoxicating even, and she sucked in a deep breath.
"You did wonderfully, Hermione. Ssh… wonderfully," he kept whispering.
"Tell me it worked." She cried into his shoulder. "Just tell me it worked."
"What do you mean?" he asked, stroking her hair calmly.
"The spell!" she sobbed. "Tell me I didn't take everything away from you for nothing. Please, Draco. Tell me the spell is gone. Tell me I did the right thing."
He pulled her tighter against him and leaned the two of them back against the pillows on her bed.
"The spell is gone. It's only a memory now." He wiped a tear away gently. "You did the right thing."
She couldn't stop herself from crying harder. Relief joined the sorrow, and she felt some of the guilt dissolve away. Her blood felt as if it were rushing fast in her veins, too fast, and she felt weightless. As if she might float away. After everything had gone so entirely wrong for so long, this was so right. It was like she could feel her life shift back into place, feel the new Hermione fit back into that old puzzle.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't apologize. You're so strong, Hermione. To have done what you've done."
She scoffed. She was anything but strong. She'd never felt so weak in her life. "You're wrong."
He huffed and replied playfully, "I'm never wrong."
She lifted her head and peered up at him. Those words were so reminiscent of the old Draco. It was like nothing in him had changed. He was the same cocky, confident, wonderful prat as before.
As if he could sense her thoughts, he pulled away from her and rolled to the other side of her bed, perching himself on the edge and resting his forehead in his hands.
"I'm not the Draco Malfoy, you knew."
She nodded, but couldn't bring herself to speak. She had been prepared for this. She couldn't ask him to be something that he no longer was.
"I have no idea what went through his head… my head… sometimes. And I'm missing so many memories that I don't really have enough context to understand all my actions. I'm beginning to think I barely knew who I was then, and I sure as hell don't know now."
She pulled her knees up tight against her chest, as though she might ward off all the pain threatening to crush her if she closed herself up tight.
"But I do know that you captured me from the moment I saw you in St. Mungo's. You were the first thing I saw after the blackness. You were lowering your wand, and your eyes were glistening with tears. Your hair was wild and curling around your face, and you were glowing like some ethereal creature from another world. And I didn't even know who you were, but I was certain for a moment that I had seen heaven.
"I may not be the Draco you knew, but I know that you make my heart beat faster just by being near me. And I know that you are kind and selfless, and you gave everything to help me when I'd been so awful to you as a child. You may not see yourself very clearly, but you are strong and brave and beautiful, Hermione."
He was looking at her now, his grey eyes alight with determination and fire. Her body was thrumming with energy in response.
"I know that this body is drawn to you like no other. Even my fingers feel like they're humming in anticipation of touching you. But even my mind is drawn to you. I dreamt about you every night for those first months because you were the only thing I knew. The only memory I had that was truly mine. And I doubt anyone could see the memories I have seen and not love you. I'll understand if you say no because I may not ever be your Draco again. I will try for you. I will try to be the man that you fell in love with, but I can't promise you anything."
"What are you asking?" she breathed.
"I'm asking if you could still love me. You promised me during those last few hours that you would always love me. I guess I'm asking if that's still the case."
"Are you sure that's what you want, Draco? You've hardly had anytime to process all of this. You need time to think about yourself. You shouldn't have to spend your time trying to make me happy. I don't think you quite know what you're asking for."
"Maybe you're right. I'm not sure what I'm feeling. I can't say for sure if it's love, because I don't know what that feels like. But I want to love you."
He stretched a hand out to cup her cheek.
She should have been stronger. She should have been the mature and responsible one and pulled away. He deserved some time to think, to come to terms with all that he had learned.
"You will always be my Draco," she promised, "And I will always love you. Like I said… I lost my heart a long time ago… to you. But I don't want you to rush into this. Don't try to be something you're not. You can't force yourself to love me."
"You're perfect." He smiled. "I think it could be the easiest thing in the world… falling in love with you."
She laughed to hide the fluttering beat of her heart, "It certainly wasn't easy the first time around."
He groaned. "It's not fair that I'll never know how that felt. I mean, I've seen how it happened, obviously, but there's so much that I'll never know. I'll never know what our first kiss felt like. I'll never know how it felt to see you for the first time after all those years. I can imagine, but I'll never really know for sure."
Hermione sighed, "And that's exactly what I'm talking about. You may know everything about our relationship that you need to know intellectually. But there is still so much that you haven't explored. Right now you may be able to look past that, but eventually it will all catch up with you. You still have so much left to go. You'll have to start re-learning much of your magic. I'm sure Harry's already started that process with you, and I'll be here to help. I promise. But you've gained an entire portion of your past that you didn't know about this week. Take some time and let life catch up with you, Draco."
"Okay," he nodded. "I can do that." He placed a hand on her arm and drew her closer to him, and then hesitated. "But for now, just for now, can we forget all about my memories, and our history, and our past? Can we forget about just how far I have left to go? And can I just have this instant to love you like I think I can? I'll deal with the rest tomorrow, but…can I just have one second to try and remember what it must have felt like to love you?"
She smiled, placing her hand over his. "I suppose we could do that. We'll take things slowly, just a moment at a time."
He yawned and pulled her against his chest, lying back on the bed. "I think that sounds grand. Now how about that sleep you promised me?"
Her mind momentarily objected to the idea of resting here with him, but what could it hurt? Laughing, she swatted his arm happily. She could do this. It was just to sleep. She laid her head against his chest and sighed. They would worry about everything else tomorrow.
He placed a chaste kiss on her temple and grinned.
"Just a moment at a time."
The End.
A/N: Phew. That's a bit how I had to write this chapter…. moment by moment.
Thank you to all of you who have stuck with this story! It's been a very long, intriguing, insane journey. It took four long years, but it is finally finished. And I can't thank you all enough for your reviews—they kept me going! I'm not sure what's next on my list… I'd like to at least write a little something about Draco and Hermione's future from here on out. I can't promise that it will be a sequel that is full-length like this one… but perhaps an epilogue, a follow-up one-shot, or a short sequel. But I thought it would be fun to explore the frustrations on Draco's part of having an incomplete past and trying to move on despite it, and the way that might affect his and Hermione's relationship.
If you all think that might be something you'd be interested in reading… let me know!
And finally, Eilonwy, I cannot possibly thank you enough for being my beta for this story. You always did a fabulous job catching all my mistakes, and your input definitely made my chapters stronger and better written. But above all, I am thankful for your encouragement. You are a wonderful writer yourself, and you always made me feel wonderful about my work too. Thank you!