28 – Dementia
All pain, all worry, all of her problems were gone. She was loved – no, more than loved - adored. She was soaring, flying, and knew that she was being watched, watched with admiration, pride. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she felt pleasure this intense.
When did she learn how to fly like that?
Now, she was leaving on the Hogwarts Express. Somewhere, far away, she heard someone calling her name. She turned to her mother and saw her eyes, filled with loving tears. At least she knew her mother was proud of her, sad that she was leaving, but amazed that she was at last old enough to follow in her footsteps and take her own journey to Hogwarts.
Wait. Her mother hadn't gone to Hogwarts. And she hadn't been very happy when Hermione left for the first time on the Hogwarts Express. Her mother had tried to hide it, but Hermione had felt her nervousness, her uncertainty.
Whose memories were these? What did it matter? They felt so good. She relaxed into the memory again and felt the wind blowing through her hair, the air blowing past her . . . .
"Hermione?" She was being called again. Whoever it was sounded quite worried.
"Hmm?" That was the only answer she could summon, not yet willing to open her eyes and return to reality.
"Hermione? Are you alright? Can you breathe?"
What a silly question. "I'm fine," she sighed, while thinking "Better than fine."
Hermione opened her eyes, just a crack. Nothing to see but the ceiling. It was a lovely ceiling though. Embossed metal tiles, were they copper? Little flowers stamped all along each edge, and in the middle . . . .
"Hermione. Wake up. What did he do to you?" Someone was grasping her shoulders, shaking her.
She frowned, pushing the hand off her left shoulder. Where was she? She'd seen this ceiling before, somewhere. She really should sit up. She opened her eyes all the way, and forced herself to lift her head off of the firm pillow behind her neck.
Draco. She was at Draco's cottage. He was still gripping her right arm. She stared at him, willing him to stay in focus. "What happened?"
"That's what I was asking you. Are you alright?" Was he always this pale?
"Yeah. I am. I just . . . I felt so good. Everything felt good, so happy. I saw . . . I had memories, not my memories. I was flying."
"What? Flying? I thought he had . . . . And here you are all . . . . babbling about flying. What the hell?"
Draco pulled away from her and leaned back into the sofa, taking deep, slow breaths. He glanced up at her, eyes hard and angry.
She looked away. That amazing feeling was slipping away and she wanted to hold onto it. "I must've been feeling someone else's memories, something, not mine. I hate flying. But I was doing it and it was excellent."
He was silent. She looked over at him. His frown had changed. It was deeper, but not angry, thinking.
"What did you feel? Tell me."
"I was flying. Someone was watching me, proud of me. It was so . . . like nothing I've ever felt. I was euphoric. Then I was at the train station, leaving on the Hogwarts Express. And she was there . . . watching me, proud, but sad this time." She tried to remember, but the details were fading. "Who was she?"
"My mother." He sounded certain. "Are you using a glamour? Where is the blue glow now?"
Hermione flicked her wand and the glamour vanished. She jolted. The blue had . . . converged. Instead of bands there was now a single glowing light in the center of her chest, right over her heart.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"Because I've felt it. Those were the memories I . . . feel when I drink it, drink the Amorita. Can I . . . can I touch it?" He was reaching out to her, stopping his fingers an inch away from her when he seemed to realize he should ask first.
She nodded. She could feel it, felt a tingling, a buzzing that seemed to vibrate all through her. Would he be able to feel it or was it just internal? She felt him press gently against her breastbone, then shudder. He felt it, felt something.
She looked up at him. "Can you feel it then?"
"I felt something, a zap, of magic, of something."
She could feel her heart beating, stronger than she could remember ever feeling it before. She looked into his eyes and knew he felt it too. It was like she'd been inside his heart, felt his joy, his mother's love, and now that memory joined them.
She looked away, down at his hand, now pulled back, and took a deep breath. That was so intense, so intimate. Harry would be appalled.
She looked back up, eyes wide with surprise. "Harry. Draco – I forgot all about . . . I'm sorry. We don't have time. I have to tell you about Harry, and Snape, and . . . ."
"Hermione, wait. This is important too. Tell me . . . did it . . . did it hurt you?"
"Did what hurt me?"
"The Amorita? Did it hurt just now? Or . . . any time?'
"Hurt? No. Not at all. It was amazing."
"No pain? Nothing bad?"
"No. It wasn't like that at all."
"Can you walk?"
"Walk? Of course." What was he worried about? She stood up, embarrassed as she wobbled in her haste. "I'm fine." She took several steps in front of the sofa, then turned and walked back to her starting place. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just had to make sure. I'll explain later, or maybe . . . I watched the second Amorita memory. It was about the . . . Old Ugly. I think he tried Amorita and . . . it hurt him. I'll let you see the memory. Maybe you'll understand."
Hermione dropped back onto the sofa. "There's so much to do. And tonight is the full moon. We have to hurry. Where were we . . . before that . . . before I . . . ."
"Severus's death. Potter killed him."
"No. No, Draco. I understand why you might think that, but he didn't."
"He was in . . . in Flat Face. How did he do that? Why?"
"He was . . . their minds were linked. It happened when Harry was a baby, when Snake Eyes killed his mother. Draco, have you ever heard of a horcrux?"
"A horcrux? I've heard the word . . . somewhere, lately." He leaned his head back on the back of the sofa, eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. He looked up suddenly, a bright expression on his face. "You mentioned it to Potter, at the hospital the other night."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot you were there the whole time. So . . . I guess you can't understand any of this without knowing what a horcrux is. It's why . . . Snake Eyes was able to come back, after the Triwizard Tournament. It was his way to be . . . he's trying to be . . . immortal." She looked up from her clasped hands. Why did talking about this make her so nervous? Her eyes met Draco's and he gave her a slight nod, encouraging her to go on.
"Right. So, basically, whenever someone commits . . . well, murder, it damages their soul, tears it." He closed his eyes, and she realized he must have felt the damage himself. There was no time to get distracted by that now. She had to keep going. "There have been . . . those who used that damage, who used the tear to take a part of their soul and put it into . . . something, something else, where they can keep it and use it to come back if they are ever killed."
"Bloody hell. Are you sure? How would they . . . ."
"We don't know the details, the dark magic, whatever spell they use to do it, but I'm sure. I've seen them, seen horcruxes, killed them. They are horrible."
"Wait. More than one? Whose?"
"His. Flat Face. They were all his."
"He had more than one? How many?"
"Seven. I think . . . well, I think it is why he looks so . . . unnatural. His soul is so damaged. He's hardly human by now."
"You said you destroyed them. All of them?"
"Yes. The last one was Nagini and . . . that's why Neville killed . . . him."
"Okay." There was silence. Draco was sitting, perfectly still, staring straight ahead. Hermione decided to give him some time, let what she'd said sink in. He'd have questions. She'd just wait. Sure enough, he finally turned toward her, a puzzled look on his face. "So how's this explain Potter? Did he make one . . . a horcrux, too?"
"Oh my gosh, no." The idea made Hermione's skin crawl. How could he . . . but that was the whole problem. Draco didn't trust Harry. He didn't understand him at all. "I wish we had more time. There's so much you don't know, so much I have to fill you in on. So okay, Harry. The thing is . . . as far as we know, no one's ever made so many horcruxes. Old Ugly didn't know how . . . fragile his soul had become. The night he . . . the night he killed Harry's parents, then he tried, tried to kill Harry, somehow his soul tore again. No one really knows how, but somehow a piece of his soul went into . . . well, it went into Harry."
Draco's head jerked toward her. At least she wouldn't have to worry about convincing him what a horrible thing that was.
"Into Potter? What does that mean? How did that work?"
"Again, as far as we ever found out, it'd never happened before. Harry didn't even know about it. Even Flat Face didn't know, not for a long time. It wasn't until . . . well, I guess it was in our fifth year, Harry was having . . . he thought they were just dreams, just nightmares, but he was seeing into Snake Eye's head, feeling some of his feelings. That's when Dumbledore started to figure out that they were . . . connected."
"Connected? Did it go both ways? Could . . . he . . . the Dark Lord see through Potter?"
"Yes. At least sometimes. Not all the time. It seemed to be connected to when he was angry or very emotional. Of course, we never knew . . . we haven't exactly been able to ask him – what could you see? What did you know? But Harry, sometimes Harry could see . . . it was like he was in Old Ugly's head."
"Like when Severus . . . was killed. Are you sure?"
"Yes. Harry hated it. He hated being connected that way, but he saw things. It's why he knew things, like where Snake Eyes was, what he was doing."
"So you think that's why Potter could do such dark magic, that's why I felt it . . . felt the evil coming off of him."
"Yes. You'd been around . . . Evil Eyes. That's why you recognized that feeling."
"But you make it sound like it's over, like they aren't connected anymore."
"No. They aren't. The horcruxes are all gone, including the one that was . . . in Harry." Draco raised one eyebrow, wanting her to continue. She almost smiled. His composure was back. He was back to being the calm aristocrat. Why was she so relieved? He raised his other eyebrow and she remembered she wasn't finished with her explanation.
"So Harry, that night at Hogwarts, he let Snake Eyes . . . well, he let him kill him. Harry thought that was the only way to kill it, kill the last horcrux, so then, well, after we'd killed Nagini, then we could kill him."
"My mother said that she saw it, saw . . . the Dark Lord hit Potter with an Avada Kedavra, kill him. But he didn't die. She told me that . . .for some reason the spell didn't work on Potter."
"No. That's . . . well, it's complicated. It'll take some time to explain, but Harry's not immortal or anything."
"That's good to know." Draco gave her an almost smile, one side of his mouth oddly quirked.
"There's so much you need to know. Did you get to the part where, when you were watching . . . Professor Snape's . . . well, did you see when he gave Harry his memories?"
"What? No. I, well, I left before then I guess. But why? Why are Severus's memories part of this?"
Hermione bit her lip, then lightly clenched her teeth. What were the most important parts to explain? What should she start with?
"Let me guess," Draco looked at her out of the side of his eyes, without turning his head. "It's complicated."
"Yes, of course. But I'm trying to figure out, since we don't have much time tonight, what should I start with. Later, when there's time, you can watch all of them, see all of the memories."
"Not sure I want back into Potter's head."
"Well, no, but I haven't actually seen those memories so I can't . . . maybe you could see the originals, see what the professor left for Harry. Although . . . I have no idea what happened to those. We'll have to ask Harry. Anyway, the thing is . . . there's this prophecy. Oh." Suddenly she remembered why Draco's father had gone to Azkaban. "Have you . . . have you heard about the prophecy?"
"No. I think I heard there might be one. I always thought it was weird. It seemed sort of . . . childish, insecure for the Dark . . . Old Ugly to care so much about prophecies and stuff. My father always told me to ignore stuff like that. You make your own destiny. Then, all of a sudden, everyone wants to see some prophecy."
Hermione couldn't help but smile to hear her own thoughts put into words. "That's what I think. And even if there is a prophecy, trying to make it happen or not happen, that just never seems to work out well. But there was one. And Snake Eyes . . . really believed it. I guess it's not that important right now. You might have guessed it was all about how Harry was the one who could kill Flat Face."
"Of course it was. So, about why Potter didn't die . . . ." Draco smiled wryly and leaned back against the sofa, obviously waiting for her to explain.
"I'm actually not sure I completely understand it myself. Harry and I have talked about it and . . . ."
Draco stood suddenly, eyes wide with terror.
"Draco?" Hermione stood, too, looking to see what he saw, but there was nothing.
"He's calling," Draco whispered. "Hermione," his eyes locked onto her. "You have to obliviate me. Fast. He can't see what I've seen, hear . . . any of this. Hurry."
"Oh, God. What should I take?"
"Everything. I mean . . . this whole conversation, what I saw in the Pensieve, then . . . you have to go back, this morning . . . what I saw at home in the Pensieve. Please, quickly." He was staring, transfixed at the Mark on his arm which was writhing, glowing.
Hermione nodded, too numb with shock to sort through what was dangerous. How could they have been so careless?
"Do you know the spell? Do you know how to take . . . just certain things?"
Hermione nodded again, this time fighting back tears. Of course, she knew the spell. She hated this spell. She'd used it on her parents. She'd . . . she shook her head, tossing her hair out of her face. She wouldn't think about that now.
She stood up and faced Draco, staring directly into his eyes. She saw his fear. He was almost panicking again, so she reached out and took his hand in her left hand, while using her right to point her wand at him. She took a deep breath and so did he. First, she needed to go in. "Legilimens."
Once again, she was in his mind. She could feel the effort he was using to slow his own breathing, calm his own heartbeat. Ideally, she'd like to look around to decide what should be removed, but there wasn't time. She needed to leave something, so he'd have some memory of where he'd just been. She found a memory, just a quick one, where he had his head leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed. She would keep that one and use it, work around it.
"Oblitus specialia." She took all the rest of their conversation, although she stopped just before he stared at his own glowing dark mark. She had to keep that. It'd be too suspicious if it wasn't there. He'd said that Voldemort couldn't feel his emotions. She hoped that was true. If Old Ugly felt his fear when the mark glowed, that wouldn't be good.
She went back to the memory on the sofa and uttered the spell again, this time taking a huge hunk, all of their conversation, back into McGonagall's office, all that happened in the Pensieve, everything back until Draco was back at his cottage and sent her a message on his coin asking if she was free to look at the memories.
She paused and blew out a long breath. She'd taken a lot there. He'd be confused later. He'd know his time was off. It couldn't be helped.
The last thing to get was the second Amorita memory. She needed to look for a Pensieve, his father's Pensieve. Luckily, it wasn't too far back. This was all taking longer than it should. Had it been two minutes yet?
This time, when she found the memory she used a different spell, one she'd never personally used before – "furtum a memoria." Ironically, she'd learned this one from Draco. It was the spell to take a memory. She'd watch this one later. She was sure he'd want her to. For now, she just took it. She kept going back until she found something safe, all the way back until he was at his cottage again and. . . .it was too late. She felt a pushing.
"Go, now. It's time." Of course, she was in his mind. She could hear his thoughts. She pulled out just in time to hear him say "You didn't take . . . ." Then he was gone.
What hadn't she taken? The end. The very end, after his Dark Mark glowed. She was going to go back and get everything after that, the part where he'd told her to obliviate him, but she hadn't.
She sat down heavily on the sofa. What had she done? Could he hide that in time?
She felt sick. All she could do was say a prayer – "Please let Draco be okay."
AN – Hopefully you can handle slow and steady. I'll try to be a little less slow next time. Please review. I always love to hear your thoughts, including any concrit.
