Chapter 29
...in which clues are found.
Blaise pointed his wand at Lucius Malfoy's blank, expressionless face as he lay stunned on the floor. His hand was shaking with anger, and the words were coming out of his mouth before he could process what they meant.
"Avada Kedavra!"
There was a flash of green light that blinded him, as his wand vibrated with power and force. The spell ebbed away just as quick as it had come.
He wanted to look down on his victory. The lifeless eyes of Lucius Malfoy, knowing he had not only ended a monsters life for the better, but had saved the lives of countless others.
However, his victory was non-existent. Instead of seeing the cold expression Lucius Malfoy always wore, and most probably would wear in death, he was met with the wide, fearful, brown eyes of Hermione, staring back at him. There was no life in them anymore, just a lone tear running down her cheek toward her ear...
Blaise woke with a start. He was breathing heavily and his heart was thumping in his chest. He let out a long breath, and felt a drop of cold sweat fall from his forehead. It had only been two weeks, but the nightmares were becoming intolerable.
He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 7am. He knew there would be no chance of him getting back to sleep, so he shoved the blankets off himself, and headed toward the bathroom. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye, and couldn't help but notice the dark rings that sat beneath them.
He was losing it.
He turned the shower to a hot stream and stepped under. He stood idle for a moment, letting his thoughts wonder.
It had been two weeks.
Two weeks since the worst, and most haunting night of his life. Hermione was dead, or so they were all led to believe, and Draco was missing.
Blaise kept going over the facts.
The Aurors had turned up at Malfoy Manor just moments after they had left. All they had found was a group of unconscious wizards. There was no sign of Hermione's body anywhere. He had hexed Narcissa, so she couldn't have removed her body in time, and the Aurors showed up too soon for anyone to dispose of it afterwards. He supposed there were a lot of spells that could do that rather quick...
He fought back the bile.
The facts he knew were that Hermione Granger was not missing. No reports in the Daily Prophet had been printed. No questions from any Aurors. Nothing. Why hadn't her parents reported her missing? Unless something had happened to them...
He splashed warm water on his face. He didn't want to think about that possibility.
All he knew was that he had been told Hermione Granger was dead, but there was no body. And no reports of it. Was there even any evidence in the house...
Blaise froze.
Narcissa's dress had been covered in blood. Blood that was most likely Hermione's. Why hadn't the Aurors found that?
Then he remembered. Most of the Aurors were likely chummy with Lucius. Any evidence they would have found to put anyone in Azkaban would have been destroyed. He grit his teeth in anger. He wasn't going to let them get away with that.
Blaise was certain that Draco had gone back to the Manor that night. Apart from his constant guilty thoughts on how he should have stopped him, should have gone after him, should have just killed Lucius, he was certain that when Draco returned, he was either killed or locked up.
Blaise closed his eyes. He had to stop thinking of this. It was torturing him.
He stepped out of the shower, dressed in fresh clothes, and made his way downstairs. He had spent most of his time recently either riding his broom, or avoiding his friends.
He laced up his boots and grabbed his broom. He stepped out onto the rolling lawn, and squinted as the sun blinded him through a white cloud. The days recently had been so beautiful, and it bugged him to no end because it didn't match the darkness that was slowly growing inside of him.
He mounted his broom, and kicked off the ground. He did several laps around the mansion, before riding too fast through the pine trees at the edge of his land. He went so high he could see above the clouds, and so low the tip of his boot broke the still water of the pond below him. He did loops, he soared, he raced birds, and sometimes he just sat, staring down at the ground below him. It all helped him clear his mind. Not very much, but a little.
He lowered his broom down to the ground, and dismounted next to a small tree. He sat down in the shade and leaned against it. Immediately, his mind began torturing him again.
It was only when he heard the sound of footsteps, that he looked up.
It was Potter and Weasley.
"Hey," Potter greeted lazily, slumping against the tree next him.
"You don't look so good, mate," Weasley commented, his voice serious.
Blaise looked over at him, squinting. Even in the sunlight, he could see that both Weasley and Potter looked as rested as he did.
"Speak for yourself." Blaise retorted, before turning away. He began ripping up a piece of grass in his fingers.
They were silent for a moment.
"I've been thinking," Potter began. Normally, Blaise would retort with a smart-arse comment that would have them all chuckling, but he didn't. It felt wrong to smile.
"I cant just sit here and do nothing," Potter continued., his voice strained with emotion. "Neither of us can. Blaise, we've been living in the same house for the past two weeks and I've barely seen you. We can't just sit here while nothing happens. We need the truth. And no one is looking for it."
Blaise didn't speak, he just continued ripping the grass. Potter looked slightly disheartened at the lack of response.
"I think we should at least see if someone knows something." He said, looking pleadingly at Blaise, who still hadn't met his eye.
Potter sighed, looking to Weasley for back up. The red head leaned forward.
"Look, mate," he said in a low voice, despite the fact no one was around to eaves drop. "Don't you find it odd that we haven't even been arrested for breaking and entering into a wizards home, and more importantly for hexing them?"
Potter nodded. "I know for a fact, that Narcissa and Lucius could have identified us in a second. But they didn't. Which means they're hiding something and don't want to cause a big scene. We've got no proof that they even took Hermione and Draco, but what if Draco is there, being held hostage?"
Blaise sighed, throwing down the now-mutilated piece of grass. "I've already considered that."
"So it's possible!" Potter cried, his eyes wide.
Blaise gave a shrug, staring at the ground. "It is, but are you willing to put yourself in the position for the disappointment that they're both dead? Because I'm not sure I can."
His nerves couldn't take much more.
Potter fell silent.
After a moment, Weasley spoke. "I'm willing to do that," he said strongly, "I'm willing to live with the disappointment, because otherwise we have to live with never knowing. I would rather a life of disappointment, over regret."
Potter nodded. "He's right, mate. You're in a bad place right now, but you will regret not finding out the truth while you had a chance. While there's still hope."
Blaise looked away. He knew he was being selfish, gutless even. But it hurt, more than it was hurting them.
"Her parent's deserve the truth," Weasley added, his voice soft.
Blaise was silent for a moment. It was true. Her parents were just victims of this whole thing. They probably didn't even know the truth. Their minds probably wiped to believe some false story.
"We should go see them," Blaise said suddenly, standing abruptly.
Potter and Weasley stared at him, shocked at his sudden change of heart.
"Ok," They agreed, happy to at least be doing something other than sitting around thinking about death.
Loccy apparated them to a small lane-way around the corner from Hermione's family home. Blaise recognised it immediately from their eventful visit last Christmas. He let out a small smile at the memory, but banished it immediately.
They walked down the path of the quiet suburban street, feeling nervous at what they would find at Hermione's home.
"Should we bring flowers?" Weasley asked suddenly. The two other boys stared at him. "Well, she is...ya' know."
"I'm not even sure they know that." Blaise reminded him. Though he was starting to have doubts about whether she were actually gone, himself.
"Right," Weasley responded, looking awkward.
They continued walking, until they were standing in front of the door to the cosy home.
Blaise hesitated for a moment, before knocking. They heard movement inside, and after a moment a woman answered the door. The woman was a spitting image of Hermione, except her hair was far tamer, and her eyes were framed with fine lines. Blaise's words were caught in his mouth for a moment.
"Hello," The woman greeted, with a hesitant smile. Blaise returned it.
"Hello," he said politely. "Sorry to intrude, but we're here to see Hermione. We're friends of hers...from school."
He wasn't sure what she knew of their school, but when her eyes widened with realisation, Blaise knew that she knew enough.
"Oh, I'm sorry, dears," Mrs Granger replied, her expression one of disappointment, "Hermione must have forgot to tell you, but she's staying at a friends house for the Summer."
Blaise was surprised. Whoever had altered their memories, had only done it for the short term. If Hermione was dead, they would need a more long-term excuse.
"Oh, I see, and which friend is that?" He asked, casually.
The woman furrowed her brow, looking thoughtful. "Now her name is slipping my mind...Oh yes, I think it was Jenny..."
Blaise nodded. He didn't know a Jenny, but he knew the story was bogus anyway.
"Jenny Weasley, it was," the woman said suddenly, smiling.
They boys eyed each other.
"Do you mean 'Ginny'?" Weasley asked.
The woman's eyes brightened, and she chuckled.
"That's the one, silly me. I apologise. I'm sometimes bad with names." She looked sheepish, and Blaise smiled.
"We know Ginny," He told her. "We'll go visit Hermione there."
Mrs Granger nodded. "You kid's have fun. Oh, and tell her to reply to my letters. I'm not letting her off that easily."
She chuckled, but Blaise knew she looked upset. His stomach lurched.
"I'll make sure she writes," he said with a smile. He turned to leave, when she stopped him again.
"Just a second, I forgot to catch your names," she said with a smile. "Told you I was bad."
Blaise gave a weak smile. "I'm Blaise. This is Harry and Ron." He pointed to the other two in succession. They smiled.
She nodded, looking at Blaise oddly. "Blaise is a unique name," she commented, looking as though she were trying to remember something. "Forgive me for being so forward, but you aren't they boy that sent my Hermione that necklace for Christmas, are you?"
Blaise hesitated. "Uh, no."
She sighed. "Darn. I can't for the life of me remember his name. It was a unique name, like yours."
"It was Draco." Blaise supplied, before correcting himself. "It is Draco. His name's Draco."
Potter and Weasley eyed him strangely.
"That's the one! I've been trying for months to remember, and Hermione refuses to talk to me about it." Mrs Granger chuckled, smiling brightly. "Are you his friends?"
Blaise nodded. "His best friends."
She smiled at him as though she thought it was the sweetest thing.
"Is he a nice boy? To my Hermione, I mean." Her expression turned to one of parental concern. "She's been through a lot. I just want her to find a nice boy."
Potter and Weasley glanced at Blaise, curious as to how he would answer that question. Draco had been the cause of some of her worst days, but he was also sure he was the cause of some of her best.
"He's one of the greatest people I know," Blaise answered, and her face lit up with happiness.
"I'm so glad," she said, looking contented. "You don't know how happy it makes a mother, hearing that."
Blaise was at least glad she was spared all of this pain, for now, anyway.
They left a few minutes later, not knowing what to make of their new found information.
Who ever obliviated Mrs Grangers memory had only planned for the short term. As soon as the holidays ended, Hermione's absence would become evident when she didn't show up for school. Also, whoever performed the memory charm, had for some reason led a trail right to the Burrow.
"Well she's definitely not there," Weasley told them. He had come from there just that morning.
"It's an odd memory to put in," Blaise responded, looking thoughtful.
"So are we still under the impression that it was one of the Malfoys who implanted that memory?" Potter asked.
Blaise shrugged. "Their solutions are more permanent. Whoever implanted this memory is only preparing for the short term. Like they believe she might come back..."
"And they mentioned Ginny," Weasley added. "I don't think the Malfoys would add a memory that could be so easily discovered as being false. Anyone could go to my house and see she isn't there. It doesn't make sense."
"Sounds to me like who ever did it was in a rush. Like they thought of the first excuse that came to mind. And they're probably a terrible liar." Potter suggested, as they continued walking down the path.
Blaise frowned. That didn't sound at all like a Malfoy.
"Maybe they want us to think that," He sighed, his head was filling with a mixed up puzzle. "To lead us away. Make us question ourselves."
Potter shrugged. "Either way, mate, we're beating around the bush. You and I both know where we need to go to get answers."
Blaise looked away from Potter. He did know. But he didn't want to go back there, either. Malfoy Manor had haunted him since that night.
"He's right," Weasley told him, sensing his trepidation.
Blaise nodded. They were both right.
They found themselves standing outside the large doors of Malfoy Manor an hour later. Blaise had thought seriously about it, and he realised that all the evidence and truths they were after resided with the occupants of this home.
They walked up the long path, and stopped at the door.
"I figured this time we could at least use the door," Blaise explained, "might save our asses from a couple of hexes."
Potter and Weasley agreed. They stood in silence for a moment more, each waiting for the other to act. Finally, someone did.
"Well, let's get this over with." Potter sighed. He knocked loudly on the doors before Blaise could stop him.
Blaise could feel the panic rising inside of him. He still wasn't sure what to do or say.
The doors opened some moments later, and a tall, muscular cloaked wizard scowled back at them.
"Whad'ya want?" He asked rudely, his accent thick, and hard to understand.
"We're here to see Mrs Malfoy." Potter replied, jutting his chin out.
"She's busy. Piss off." He grunted, the door began closing in their faces, when an aristocratic voice stopped him.
"Let them in." Narcissa ordered loudly from her spot in the other room.
The man hesitated, before grudgingly opening the door. He glared at them all as they entered and made their way to the adjacent sitting room.
Narcissa was seated on a white leather seat, a tray of tea in front of her. She was holding the cup, but not drinking from it.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked, her voice was reserved. Blaise knew that there was no such pleasure in this visit for her.
"We're here for answers," Blaise told her. She glanced at him under her lashes.
"What's the question?" She asked simply.
Blaise grit his teeth. Typical for a Malfoy to play games. "There's a few. If Hermione is dead, where's her body? Why is she not reported missing? And who removed her parents memories?"
She stared at Blaise for a moment.
"What makes you think I know the answer to any of those questions? I believe I was unconscious in the second story hallway when this apparent incident occurred."
"Apparent?" Blaise spat. "It's not apparent, you-,"
"Next question," She interrupted. Her tone sounded bored. Blaise clenched his fist in frustration.
"I want the answers to those questions!" He demanded loudly. She didn't flinch. She was probably used to being yelled at.
She looked him in the eye, her expression was blank, but her eyes held meaning. Not now.
Blaise glanced to the side and saw the rude wizard who had let them in, staring on with great interest. He understood suddenly. She was being watched.
He moved on to his next question.
"Where's Draco?"
She seemingly ignored him, and turned to the wizard at the door. "My tea is cold. Order the elves to make me more."
The wizard hesitated, before nodding. He left grudgingly.
When they heard the door to the kitchens close, Narcissa leaned forward and began talking in hushed tones.
"I cannot speak of Hermione. So do not ask me. But Draco is alive. He came on the night it all happened, demanding to see her body. He was upset. He fought with Lucius, and left abruptly. I don't know what they fought about, but I didn't see him before he left. I assume he is in hiding. Lucius is sparing no expense to find him."
Blaise could hear loud footsteps coming from the kitchen.
"Do you want him to be found?" he got the impression she may not.
"He's my son. I only want what's best for him."
He sighed at her cryptic answer. "Do you have any idea where he might have went? Any at all?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but the tall, dark wizard had re-entered the room carrying a fresh plate of tea. He sat it down, and eyed them both with a suspicious glance. Blaise stared back, however, Narcissa merely picked up a new cup.
"Tea?" She offered them. Her voice had returned to it's normal, expressionless tone and Blaise knew he wasn't going to get anything else from her.
"Thank you for your help," he said bitterly; it hadn't been much.
They left moment later, receiving threatening looks from the wizard once more.
When they were at a safe distance, Potter spoke.
"What was that guys problem?" He crowed.
"I think he's supposed to be watching her," Blaise told them. "Lucius must be suspicious. But why?"
"Well, we know Draco's alive, at least according to her," Weasley explained, "Maybe Lucius thinks she helped Draco get out, or is still helping him?"
"Maybe," Blaise pondered. He thought it might be more than that, though. But at least they got one important piece of information from their visit. Draco was alive, and he was nowhere to be found.
It was at least something to keep them going.
A bushy haired witch sat alone on a large rock near the ocean. The sky was darkening, and she knew a storm would probably hit in a few minutes. She put her book away and pulled her jumper further around her body in an attempt to fight the cold.
Hermione stood, and began walking back to the large cottage on the green land behind her.
It had been two weeks since she'd first arrived there, and two weeks since she had spoken to anyone.
Her parents thought she was staying at Ginny's; a stupid, hurried excuse she thought of while packing in her room. She had worried about it every day since leaving.
More importantly, she was wondering whether she had made the right choice to trust Narcissa Malfoy. In her pain and desperation, she had latched onto the kindness like it was a guiding light, and she wasn't even sure if she was safe here, or just moved here to make it easier for Lucius to finish her off.
She grit her teeth. She was sick of being a victim.
The warmth of the fire hit her cool skin some moments later as she stepped through the door of her safe-house. It was a large cottage, right on the edge of the beach, but it still didn't seem fancy enough for a wealthy pure-blood family. She assumed they didn't use it much for that reason.
She grabbed a can of soup from the cupboard, and poured it into a small pot, before turning the dial on the stove. She was glad that their were muggle appliances here. She had never cooked using magic much.
She had been getting weekly deliveries of food from a house elf, who she assumed belonged to Narcissa. The elf mostly brought soup, and canned goods. Bread, and some fruit. But it never spoke to her. It must've been under strict orders.
Hermione sat at the dining table as her soup cooked, and continued reading her books. She was glad she had thought to bring her school work. The isolation was tedious, but at least she had something to occupy her thoughts from straying back to that night.
She shivered, and felt the sick feeling that had plagued her on and off, return to her stomach. She couldn't think about it. It was too disturbing.
There was a large crack of lightening outside, and she found herself jumping at the noise. She let out an annoyed sigh. She hoped she would get over this jumpiness one day. Maybe one day it might be safe for her to go home.
She wandered over to the window, ignoring the bubbling of the soup as it heated. She stared up at the sky, watching as it cracked with sharp, bright colours that lit up the grey clouds and the damp sand. After a moment, the rain became heavier, and she somehow felt more comforted by the constant pattering noise on the roof.
She continued to stare out at the ocean, watching as the waves rolled in and then back out. It was a beautiful sight in terrible circumstances.
She had never gone to the beach much with her family. They had visited once for a holiday when she was younger, and she had been too scared to swim because of the large waves. She wondered if she would think that now, considering how close to death she had come just days before. Waves weren't really that bad compared to what else could hurt you.
The sky lit up again with a loud crash, and Hermione's heart thumped in her chest as it revealed a dark figure wandering along the beach. She instantly raised her wand and extinguished all the dim lights in the room, but knew it was too late as whoever it was had already seen, and was making their way over.
She could feel her panic rising. She couldn't make out who it was through the rain and darkness, but from their strides she could tell they were male.
She raced away from the window, and began packing her things roughly into her bag. She froze when she heard the front door creak open. She ducked under the table, and covered her mouth with her hand.
She saw two wet, sandy boots step through the door. She recognised the dragon-hide material, and knew whoever it was was a wizard, which didn't bring her any comfort at all. She could see the beginning of black pants from the leg up, but that was all. The wizard stood in the door for a moment, as if gauging his surroundings. After a moment, he shut the door. Hermione frowned as he slipped his boots off, revealing a mismatched pair of socks. She could see the drops of water hitting the floor. He had obviously walked a long way to get here and was saturated.
Hermione watched as a wet satchel was placed at the foot of a chair that was beside her. The wizard wandered around the room slowly, as though looking for something. He stopped near her, in front of the stove top. Hermione suddenly remembered her soup was still cooking, and cursed inwardly.
The wizard turned, and spoke for the first time. "Hermione?"
She froze. Not only because this wizard knew her name, but because for some reason his familiar voice brought her such comfort and fear at the same time.
She bit her lip, wondering whether she should just ignore him. However, before she knew what she was doing, she quietly peeked out from under the table.
She spotted him first. His hair was dripping wet, along with his dark cloak. She could see the stubble along his jaw, and the dark rings under his eyes. It puzzled her why he looked so wrecked.
She crawled out quietly, and stood tentatively.
He turned quickly at the sound. Immediately his face contorted into a sneer.
"Why didn't you show yourself sooner, Granger?" Nott said, looking annoyed.
Hermione crossed her arms and stared back. "Why are you here?"
He rolled his eyes, as though it were obvious.
"Well, it's certainly not to enjoy the fucking weather." He spat sarcastically, looking thoroughly uncomfortable from the wet.
Hermione raised her brow in disbelief. "You mean...you're here to find me?"
He nodded, shaking the water out of his hair. He was starting to shiver from the cold.
"Go sit down," She directed him, nodding toward the fire. She grabbed two bowls and put equal servings of soup in both, before bringing it to him.
He nodded in thanks, before swallowing a spoonful.
"So why, of all people, is it you here?" Hermione asked, confused and a little disappointed.
Nott took another spoon of soup before answering. "It's hardly my choice to be here."
Hermione felt annoyed. "Well, I know you're a stubborn git, so it would have taken a lot to get you here."
Nott shrugged nonchalantly. "Despite how much I hate him, Malfoy can be persuasive."
Hermione felt her stomach flip. She tried her best to ignore it. "Malfoy?"
Nott simply nodded. Hermione hated that he wouldn't willingly talk unless prompted.
"Why did he send you?" She asked, a little too desperately.
Nott eyed her with an unreadable expression. "He didn't send me specifically here. But he just made me an offer if I would assist him in finding you."
Hermione was puzzled. "Why wouldn't he just ask his friends?"
"Because they think you're dead," he stated simply. "He didn't say much about it, but they seem to be unwilling to help him."
Hermione ignored the pang of hurt she felt. She thought Blaise would be the one to lead the search party.
"And you were?" She asked after a moment.
He shrugged. "He's a git, but he has some contacts in the wizarding world that I would kill to meet after Hogwarts. He made me an offer, and I accepted. It's purely business."
Hermione supposed that for the right price Nott's assistance could be bought, even if he despised Malfoy.
"So why did you believe I was alive?" She asked. If Blaise didn't believe, why did he?
Nott was silent for a moment. "I didn't really," he admitted. "But I was willing to take advantage of Malfoy's weakness to get what I wanted. And besides, I don't give a shit about his sanity, unlike his side-kicks, so I wouldn't bother lecturing him to stop looking for you. I've just been going to the places he tells me to, and looking around. The only reason I even bothered to come inside was because I saw the lights. As soon as I smelt the hideous perfume you wear, I knew it was you."
Hermione felt a mixture of emotion at this. A strange feeling deep inside at the thought of Malfoy being the only one looking for her, but mostly disgust at Nott for being a selfish git.
"You really are an ass," She accused. "Taking advantage of someone's feelings like that."
He shrugged, looking unfazed. "Hey, I'm a Slytherin, don't act like you expected anything moral of me. Malfoy knows the deal. Besides, I found you, alive, so I upheld my side of the deal. I've just got to take you to him, then I'm done."
Hermione sputtered indignantly. Take her to him? "I'm not going anywhere with you! Especially not near Malfoy."
Nott eyed her as though she were a drama queen.
"I'm surprised the idea repulses you so much, considering you seemed to enjoy the idea of him searching near and far for you." He eyed her accusingly, as she tried to fight her embarrassment.
"I'm fine here," she said ignoring his accusations.
"That's lovely, but I don't particularly care," he said plainly, sitting his empty bowl down.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Hermione argued. "You can tell Malfoy I'm alive and well, but I'm not leaving. Narcissa said it was safest for me-,"
"You actually believe that old bitch?" Nott asked, his expression of disbelief and judgement.
"She saved me," Hermione argued, though for some reason, it felt like a weak argument.
"She told us you were dead," Nott shot back.
"It was to keep me safe," She told him, though she was now questioning whether that really was her motive.
"It was to keep you out of the picture, Granger," he told her, as though it were sad that she hadn't realised it earlier. "She may have pitied you, but at the end of the day you're a Mudblood and her sons obsession. She may not believe in murder like her husband, but she is just as cold."
Hermione ignored how much his words cut her.
"Why do you think that?" She snapped.
"Because she's a Malfoy," he said plainly.
"Draco's a Malfoy, and I was supposed to have loved him, or so everyone keeps telling me," She shot back.
"Well clearly you're not very smart," He said in a patronising tone.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She knew she was smart, but she also knew that trusting a Malfoy was a risk.
"I'm not planning on hiding forever, just until it's safe," Hermione explained, though her realised one flaw in her argument, which Nott was quick to point out.
"When is it ever going to be safe?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again. She didn't know. She had been so caught up in her trauma, that she had not really thought about the future, just staying safe.
It would never be safe for her as long as Lucius Malfoy held a grudge.
Maybe staying here wasn't such a good idea. What if Narcissa ratted her out? It was far fetched, but a risk that would cost Hermione her life.
But she had nowhere else to go; no one who knew how bad things really were enough to help her stay safe. Well...
She looked up at Nott, and he already knew he had won.
"I'm doing this for me," She explained pointlessly. He merely nodded.
"Well, I apparrated here from the train station in the next town," Nott explained. "I preferred to use muggle means of transport most of the way. It's easier and doesn't draw as much attention."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "Exactly how many places have you searched for me?"
Nott gave a slight shrug. "Only a couple. Me and Malfoy were looking through different areas. He was convinced his mother had hidden you some where that Lucius wouldn't look. Apparently he hated holidaying here, so I searched here next."
"Then why the heck are you convincing me to leave?" Hermione questioned, feeling annoyed.
"I already told you, you're right where Narcissa wants you. She could snap her fingers and have ten wizards at this door before we have time to say 'Hufflepuff'. It's like handling a dragon. It might never snap, but the day it does, you're fucking done for."
Hermione threw up her hands, "Fine! Lets just go."
"We should wait until the storm-,"
"I thought you said every minute we're here is dangerous? Why would we wait?" She was getting increasingly annoyed at him.
"Because, apparating to the train station in this storm is dangerous," Nott explained, looking frustrated.
Hermione sighed in annoyance. "Fine. But I'm getting awfully close to changing my mind."
"Quit being a pain in the arse, Granger!" Nott snapped.
Hermione scowled. "How dare you-!"
She froze mid sentence, as a loud, rough laugh echoed from somewhere outside the cottage.
Hermione grabbed her bag, and they both crouched down low. Hermione pointed her wand at the fire, extinguishing it to a small pile of smouldering ash.
They moved closer to the window, and the sound became a bit clearer through the rain.
"Keep it down!" One voice berated, sounding angry.
There was another loud laugh.
"Oh, come on, the little mudblood bitch won't get away this time! Just take a moment to appreciate the look on that little house elves face when that killing curse was flying at it."
The person laughed again, another low rough. Hermione's stomach churned.
"It's no laughing matter to Malfoy," the angry voice responded. "According to him, we fucked up. Doesn't even acknowledge that his wife's a traitorous bitch. We need to finish this now, or we're in deep shit."
There was silence for a moment.
"Come on. Front doors over here. This time I'm going to finish what I started at the Manor, before that old bitch stopped me." Whoever is was sounded like they were a kid about to enter Honeydukes.
The bile in Hermione's stomach began to rise into her throat, and she could feel Nott's eyes boring into the side of her head.
"We need to go," He said, his voice low and urgent.
Hermione nodded. She wasn't sure she could speak, as the fear inside her was too great.
"Let's hope there's a back door," He said, before pulling her arm away from the window, and dragging her along behind him.
The front door opened, just as they exited the room.
"She's not alone!" A low voice boomed.
They heard yelling and cursing, as they raced toward the back of the dark room.
"There's the back door," Hermione hissed, pointing to a glass panelled door in the corner of the room.
They could hear loud footsteps behind them as they barged through the exit. They raced toward the water as quick as they could. Hermione let out a yelp, as a spell hit the wet sand beside her.
She pulled out her wand, and fired over her shoulder, hearing the spell hit the ground.
"Run!" Nott yelled at her, pushing her to keep going as he began a one-on-one battle with one of the wizards.
Hermione stopped only for a split second, before seeing the other cloaked wizard coming for her.
"There's no point running little mud-blood!" He cooed at her, in his breathless voice, "I'm gonna get you!"
Hermione recognised the thick accent immediately, and could almost feel his rough hands on her once more. He had been the one who had almost killed her. She could feel her legs turn numb, but she continued running so hard her lungs were burning, starved of oxygen.
She yelped as a few spells hit the back of her heels, but she never stopped.
She aimed her wand over her shoulder, and sent a stunning spell toward him. She heard it hit the sand, and a low chuckle escape his chest.
"You'll have to do better than that," He teased.
She looked over her shoulder. Nott was tussling on the other end of the beach. She could see the loose rocks appearing up ahead, and knew the edge of the beach was close.
Her foot slipped on one of the rocks, and she had to push herself up again, knowing it cost her her lead.
He was only a few feet away now, and she knew his boots were much better suited to the rocks than her thin tennis shoes.
Her wand arm was shaking, as she sent another spell over her shoulder. However, she yelped loudly, as a hard, heavy body tackled her to the ground.
She felt her wand fall from her fingers.
Before she could grab it, two large hands were around her neck, crushing her wind pipe.
She choked on the lack of air, and her body twisted and turned beneath him.
"You don't even deserve to die by magic," He growled, breathless from his exertion. "You'll die like a muggle whore."
Hermione's hand searched for her wand, but it wasn't within reach. Instead, her desperate fingers clung onto a sharp rock, and she used all her force to smash it into the side of his skull.
His fingers loosened their grip, and he stumbled back. She gasped a breath, and shoved him off using all her force, before grabbing her wand.
He looked docile from his head injury, but scowled as he saw her stand again. She saw him reach for his wand, but before he could, she quickly sent a spell toward him.
"Reducto!" She cried, her voice struggling.
His whole body shifted back with powerful force, and there was a loud crack as his head came in contact with a sharp rock underneath him.
Then there was silence.
Hermione stood, waiting for a groan. A movement. A blink.
But there was nothing.
She took a tentative step closer. She could see his glazed eyes, staring into nothingness. There was a dark liquid seeping from the back of his head, and she realised, with a rush of sickness that it was blood. A lot of it.
"Hermione!" She heard Nott calling out to her. She looked up to find him running toward her.
He slowed down as he took in the scene. He looked back up at her.
"Are you ok?" he asked, eyeing the blood on her jumper.
Hermione nodded. She could see his expression change as he realised it wasn't her blood.
She felt her legs give way, and she tumbled to the ground, her stomach inadvertently churning, and causing her to throw up the soup she'd eaten earlier.
"Let's go," Nott said, pulling her up. "More will come."
It surprised her that he had nothing to say about the dead body in front of them, or the fact that she had just killed someone.
He merely apparated them to the train station, and instructed her to clean up in the bathroom. She binned her blood stained clothes, and wished it were that easy to get rid of memories. Then she remembered it was.
They sat for several hours, waiting for the early morning train to arrive. When it did, they sat in an empty carriage in silence. Hermione didn't bother to ask where they were going. She didn't really care, as long as she could be alone while they were there.
They arrived at an empty platform later that night, and from there they walked through a small town, across an empty field, and into a small area of trees which was seemingly deserted from the outside, but as they walked further into the trees, Hermione could feel the magic crackling around her, and when Nott raised his wand and muttered a silent spell, she watched in awe as a small cottage appeared.
"What's this place?" She asked quietly.
"Malfoy's staying here," he told her, walking toward the front door. "There's a spare room upstairs that I've been staying in. Since you're here I wont be needing it. So you can go and get some sleep. Malfoy is probably out, so I'll wait until he get's back so I can tell him-"
"That I killed someone?" She finished, her voice shaking.
He stared at her, his expression was unreadeable. "No. That I found you and he can pay up. Now go."
He nodded toward the stairs, and she hesitated for a moment, before realising she didn't want to be around people anyway.
For a small house, it was still quite nice. The room she assumed was now hers was adjacent to a bathroom. She went there first, stripping off her clothes and sitting under the shower for a good ten minutes.
After that, she headed to her room, and lay on the bed. It was dark outside, and she found sleep came easily.
The dreams on the other hand, woke her with a start.
A dark figure was standing in the doorway, and she grabbed her wand.
"Relax, it's just me." Nott hissed. "I'm getting the rest of my things."
"You're leaving?" Hermione asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. I've got some meetings with a few high-up Ministry wizards. At least the rest of my summer will be worthwhile."
"And how did you manage that feat?" Hermione asked.
"Malfoy paid up." He replied. "Apparently his father has so much dirt on these people, they wouldn't dare say no to any favour, even one for his son."
"His father?" Hermione spat.
"Hermione, the sooner you realise there are no good people left in the world, the easier it will be for you to survive."
She scowled at him, but he didn't see.
"I didn't tell Malfoy about your little...incident, tonight. But he is down stairs, impatiently waiting for you to come down."
"He can wait all night for all I care," She spat, feeling hurt at his referral to her new found status as a murderer. She had almost managed to not think about it.
"Fine by me," He shrugged, pulling a bag over his shoulders. "Try to stay out of trouble, Granger."
He left before she could say anything else. It amazed Hermione how he seemed to be two different people in one, and you never knew which one you'd get.
She lay back down against the bed head, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was because Malfoy was downstairs, or because she couldn't get the image of that dead wizard out of her mind.
Her mind was going wild at the thoughts and Nott hadn't helped at all. She wanted someone to tell her it wasn't her fault.
She stood tentatively, and walked toward the doorway. She peeked down the short hall toward the stairs. She could hear a fire crackling downstairs, and the dim orange glow was lighting up the ceiling above. She swallowed hard.
To go down there expecting sympathy for what she had done was ridiculous. She knew deep down she didn't even want sympathy. She just wanted someone to know. To tell her something. Even if it was to blame her, vilify her, scorn her.
The Draco Malfoy she knew would have done all those things, but the person he was now was different. He was still an arse, but he had seemed to be less hateful, to her, anyway. She wasn't really sure if that's what she wanted.
Did she want someone who would tell her she had done the right thing because they loved her, or someone to tell her the truth because she deserved the truth?
She didn't really care, and before she had even made a choice she found herself tiptoeing down the stairs.
He was seated in front of the blazing fire, unmoving. She almost didn't want to disturb him.
However, when one of the wooden floorboards beneath her creaked under her weight, he turned abruptly at the sound, and his face was about as shocked as hers. They stared at each other for a moment, before Hermione eventually continued walking toward the chair beside him.
She could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye, and decided to let him talk first. She still couldn't fathom that he wouldn't bite her head off.
They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.
"I wasn't expecting you to come down tonight," he said, his voice a soft hum. "I thought you'd be tired."
Hermione turned to look at him, and could finally take in his whole face.
He looked scruffy, to say the least. His whiskers left a light shadow on his jaw, his hair was messy, and he looked worn out. Still, he somehow seemed to look better than her on her best day.
"You look tired," She said simply.
"Maybe we both need sleep," He said, turning back to the flames.
"I can't," Hermione told him. She closed her eyes. She needed to tell someone about it.
He turned back to her. And she knew there was a lingering question in the silence.
She swallowed thickly, not sure how to say the words. "I killed someone."
She could feel him staring at the side of her head, and couldn't stand to turn and see his expression.
"Who was it?" He asked after a moment. She was surprised at the question, like it mattered.
"A Death Eater." She explained. "One of your fathers 'employees'."
He turned back toward the fire, and she wondered what he was thinking.
"They never did get over the fall of the Dark Lord," he said, almost sounding amused. "Still parading around in those ridiculous costumes..." He shook his head.
Hermione stared at him, bewildered. "That's all you've got to say?"
He shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"
She felt a rush of anger slice through her at his casual tone, and she stood abruptly, staring down at him. She threw her arms up in annoyance.
"I don't know, Malfoy!" She cried, "Tell me I'm a terrible person, that I don't deserve to breath right now. Tell me I'm a filthy mudblood! Tell me I'm an abomination! Tell me something! But don't act as though it doesn't matter. I killed someone! I'm a murderer."
By the end of her rant, she could feel the warm tears running down her cheek. She wiped them away quickly, forgetting that it didn't matter if she cried in front of him now or not.
"Sit down, Hermione." He told her, his voice low. She obliged, after a moment. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. It's just, well, it's hard to be upset at the thought of one of those pieces of shit dying."
"It doesn't make a difference," Hermione stressed.
"I know," he agreed. "But if you had to resort to something like that, then you must have been pushed into it, with no other option."
She sniffled. "He attacked me back at the Manor. I recognised his voice." She cringed at the memory. Draco grit his teeth. "Then more came, just after Nott arrived. I was running, but he caught me. He started choking me. He was already injured when I hit him with a spell, but I still didn't stop."
"No one would have." Draco told her. "You were cornered and scared. It was you or him, and personally, I'd prefer it to be him."
She looked at him, knowing she shouldn't be surprised at his words, but she was.
"I still killed someone," She said, after a moment.
"Yes," Draco nodded. "But you're not a killer. You didn't seek it out like he did. Everyday, people die from potions and spells gone wrong, from people not fixing their brooms properly. Do you think all those people are killers? Of course not. Accidents happen. You didn't intend to kill him. That's not you. So I'm not going to make you feel bad. I can see you feel bad enough, and you don't deserve any more than that."
Hermione stared at him, sniffling occasionally. "I just needed to tell someone."
"I know."
They were quiet for a moment more.
Hermione wondered how, despite all her misgivings toward him, he had been the one to never give up hope for her.
"Why did you care if I lived or died?" She asked him, suddenly.
He was quiet, and Hermione wondered if he was going to answer her question. After a moment, he shifted in his seat, before speaking.
"Mostly it was because I couldn't stand the thought." He said, staring into the fire. "The thought of you simply not existing anymore, and the thought that it would have been my fault. Blaise was the one that told me..."
"You didn't believe him?" She asked. It surprised her.
"I'm not even sure Zabini believed himself, deep down," He told her. "He's never been good with handling things like that."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "Like what?"
Draco let out a long breath. "Death."
Hermione sputtered in disbelief. "Well, of course he shouldn't! He's too young to have to deal with that sort of stuff," She paused for a moment, "We all are."
"He needs to get used to it," Draco said, strongly. "He can't just give up whenever he gets bad news. If it were up to him, you'd still be in danger."
Hermione laughed wryly. "And I'm not in danger now? I'm sitting here with the son of the wizard who wants me to disappear, by any means necessary, while at he same time his mother seems to be helping me."
It was a ridiculous situation. And when put in plain terms Hermione realised just how ridiculous it really was.
"Don't trust my mother," Draco said darkly, "She may not wish you any harm, but it doesn't mean she's not a threat."
Hermione turned to him, fiercely, "I don't trust her. I don't trust anyone. But so far, she has shown me some form of mercy, which doesn't seem to extend to the rest of your family."
Draco threw his arms up in exasperation. "What am I, then? Chopped dragon liver?!"
Hermione stood quickly, glaring down at him. "Is that why I'm here? Because you want me to praise you, and tell you how you're my hero?" She laughed wryly. "I'm not a damsel in distress, Malfoy. I'm sick of that title. From now on I'm looking out for myself."
Draco stood, his expression fierce, but she could see a twinge of hurt. "You've always been strong, Hermione. But the point of having friends is that you have people to look out for you. It doesn't make you a coward!"
Hermione let out a bitter laugh. "If you are implying that you are my friend, Malfoy, then you are sorely mistaken."
She turned and left, leaving him to stare after her with a pained expression.
Why had she even agreed to come here? For some reason she thought perhaps she could see Draco Malfoys face again, and not feel her stomach churn with anger and disgust, but it never changed.
And now there was more anger than ever because he was trying to manipulate her with his lies. People never really changed, they just changed what they wanted.
Hermione didn't wake the next day until the sun had already passed her window. The incident from last night was still fresh in her mind, and she sat on her bed for a few minutes, pondering whether she should face him by going down stairs. Maybe she could just climb out the window...?
She sighed to herself. She had to stick to her guns.
She made her way down stairs quietly, and peeked around the small room below which she only now realised combined a kitchen, dining and sitting room all in one. The other thing she noticed was that it was noticeably empty of Draco Malfoy presence.
The smell of freshly made food dragged her from her thoughts, and she eyed they table. There was a pot of tea and plate of pancakes sitting there. There was also a large, silver bowl that looked like something she had seen in a book before. She walked toward the table, and picked up a note that was sitting beside her cup.
Underneath it was a small velvet box. She turned back to the note.
I wish I wasn't so easy to hate. This is harder the second time. I just want you to remember. DM
She sat the note down, feeling a mixture of emotions. Annoyance, pity, and strangest of all, longing to remember. But she knew that no amount of longing would change things. Nothing would make her see Draco in a different light.
She picked up the velvet box and opened it. Inside was a silver shell. It looked expensive. Underneath it sat a worn note. She picked it up, trying to make out the writing. It was impossible to read, but she could see it with signed with a curly "DM". What was this about?
It was then that she noticed something else sitting in the box. A vial filled with what looked like silver smoke. She suddenly realised what they were. Memories. He had given her his memories, and the large silver bowl beside her wasn't just a bowl, it was a pensieve. Where had he gotten that?
She swallowed, wondering if she really wanted to see them what resided in Draco Malfoys mind. She realised quite quickly that her curiosity was far too great to not look.
She sat down at the table, completely forgetting about her breakfast, despite the fact her stomach was growling quite loudly.
She slid the heavy pensieve over in front of her, and took a steady breath and she gently unstopped the vial. She poured the silvery contents into the bowl, and watched as it swirled and twisted in different directions.
She swallowed, before taking another deep breath and lowing her head into the pensieve. The scene came together from the silver wisps, and she found herself standing in a dark alley, except she wasn't alone.
Two tall boys stood next to her. Draco and Blaise. She wondered for a moment if they could see her, but when Blaise looked straight through her head, she realised she was merely viewing the memory. Draco's memory.
Blaise scratched his head, looking anxious.
"I really don't want to fucking go down there." Blaise said, his face an expression of distaste as he looked through Hermione's head. "It smells like death and the witches always try to touch me."
Hermione turned to see where he was looking, and realised they were standing at the entrance of Knockturn Alley. It really did smell bad. She had never been to that part of Diagon Alley, but the memory was so vivid, that she felt as though she were really there now.
There was a thick layer of white on the ground. Snow. It must be sometime near Christmas, as despite how dull and dark Knockturn Alley was, there were a few stores with decorations for the season.
"Don't be a wimp," Draco shot back. "I've got to get her something unique. Borgin & Burkes is my best shot."
Hermione wondered if he was talking about her...?
Blaise sighed. "Cant you just get something from Fred and George Weasleys shop? They have loads of stuff. If you get something for Hermione here, she'll probably end up cursed."
Draco gave him a look. "Don't be ridiculous, Zabini. You know they only curse it if you ask them to."
Hermione almost opened her mouth to protest this news, but remembered she wasn't really here and they wouldn't hear her anyway.
Blaise raised his brows. "You should probably ask them to curse it with a love potion, otherwise she might just throw it back in your face."
Draco's face grew pink, and Hermione wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or angry.
He skulked off leaving Blaise in the shadows. Hermione followed, with Blaise just steps behind her.
She slipped past Draco as he opened the door to Borgin & Burkes. She noticed it was empty, apart from a few cloaked wizards whose face's were shadowed. Draco began perusing the shelves across from her, and she turned to watch the intent expression on his face. It reminded her of what her face must be like when reading an interesting book.
Blaise strolled over to where Draco was, and looked in the shelf. He let out a low whistle.
"They don't come cheap," He said, eyeing the trinkets, and rings, and necklaces.
"It's worth every galleon," Draco said, not looking away. Hermione stared at him, not sure how to feel about his words. Seeing him this way was different. He was so different to the Draco she remembered.
"What about that one?" Draco said, pointing at something behind the glass cabinet. Hermione stood on her tip toes trying to see above them, but couldn't.
"A ring?" Blaise questioned, uncertainly. "Bit soon, don't you think? She hasn't even said she likes you yet."
Draco turned to glare at the Italian, and he held up him hands in surrender. "I'm kidding, mate. But I think a ring is the wrong choice. You want something that will get you 'close to her heart'.
Draco narrowed his eyes at Blaise. "Where'd you get that soppy crap?"
He shrugged. "Luna said it once. She's a girl, so she'd probably know."
Hermione almost smiled at their confusion. It was amusing.
"I'm not going to take advice from Loony," Draco shot back, looking outraged.
Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Stop calling her that."
He glared at Draco, until the other boy sighed in defeat.
"What would Luna suggest then?" Draco asked, ignoring Blaises scowls.
Blaise seemed to calm down after Draco's use of her proper name.
"Well, I don't know." He admitted, looking lost. "We could take it in the figurative sense, I suppose, in which case, it would probably be a book."
Draco bit his lip. "No, she has millions of books. It needs to be something different."
He perused the cabinet more intently. "What about that?"
Blaise looked at where he was pointing. He shrugged. "I guess."
"Well, it would sit close to her heart," he said.
"I don't think it's meant to be taken in the literal sense," Blaise explained.
Draco merely shrugged, "Fuck literal."
He got a wizard to grab the necklace out, and for the first time Hermione could see a shining silver sea shell.
Draco handed the wizard a sack of Galleons. "I want you to put a spell on it too."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. What spell?
Blaise stepped forward. "Mate, I was joking before-,"
"I want you to make it so it plays a nice tune when you hold it to your ear. But only for as long as I... love the person I'm giving it to."
He stood his ground, but Hermione could see it embarrassed him to no end to ask for such a thing.
The gruff wizard eyed them for a moment, before nodding. He made Draco hold the pendant, before pointing his wand at it.
"That should do the trick." The wizard said after a moment. "Won't stop playing for as long as you love the person, also if you die." He turned to Blaise with a low chuckle."Make sure he doesn't die, or you won't hear that pretty tune anymore."
They stared at the man with wide-eyes.
"What-"
"No-"
"It's for a girl-"
The wizard broke down in guffaws a second later, and both boys glared at him before leaving.
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle a little at their awkward expressions. She was certain that Draco didn't mean to share that part of the memory.
"That git," Blaise seethed, as they stepped out of the shop. "Why would he assume I would be the 'girl'? You style your hair more then me."
The memory began to get foggy, and Hermione knew it was coming to an end when their conversation became muffled.
She sat up from the pensieve a moment later, a million thoughts running through her head.
She stared at the silver pendant on the table in front of her. She didn't want to care, but curiosity got the better of her.
She picked up the pendent with a shaking hand, not really sure what she was afraid of. She placed the silver shell beside her ear, and her heart skipped a beat.
She heard the most beautiful melody playing, and she didn't want it to end.
She closed her eyes, and couldn't help but wonder how she had reacted to this the first time she had heard it. It must have been special to her, right? It would have meant a lot, wouldn't it?
It irritated her to no end how she didn't want to love Draco, but she wanted to remember what she felt for him. Just to see if it were real. To see why. Had it been sudden, and abrupt, or had it taken a long time to build, like the delicate spinning of a web?
Had they been playful with each other? Had they had deep and meaningful conversations about their futures? Had he complimented her? Had they fought constantly, but ended it with laughter? Had he admitted that her blood hadn't mattered? Had he hidden her from the public eye? Had he been ashamed of his feelings? Had she ever really, publicly, and all-knowingly been his, and him hers?
She couldn't think of a world, not even now, where that could happen.
There was a movement by the door, and Hermione moved the pendant from her ear swiftly, and looked up at the sound.
Draco was standing by the back door, leaning against it. She narrowed her eyes.
"How long have you been there?" She asked, her voice shaky with a mixture of emotions. Mostly anger and embarrassment.
"Not long," he replied in a low, calm voice. He looked down, and she hid the pendant, even though she knew he'd already seen her with it. "You didn't eat."
She opened her mouth to retort to what she expected would be a smart-arse remark, but stopped short. She turned to stare at the plate of now stale pancakes and cold tea.
"I wasn't hungry," She lied, intent on being independent.
Just as she said it, her stomach growled loud enough for them to both hear. He sighed.
"Stop being stubborn, Granger," He moved toward the table. "Let me make you something. I'm not saying I'm the greatest chef. I've never actually cooked much before now, but luckily most of these muggle foods I get from the shops here come with instructions. "
He smirked, and she stared at it like someone who had never seen it before. And it was because she felt like she hadn't. His smirk wasn't hateful at all, and he was poking fun at himself. It was too familiar.
She stood quickly. "I'll make some food later."
His smile fell, and he stared at her with an expression she had never seen on him before. He looked...desperate.
It was almost too hard to keep looking at his face. Something inside her stomach was churning at the sight.
She went to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist.
"I know you want to know how you felt for me," he said, strongly. "You wouldn't be here otherwise. If you truly hated me, you would have told Nott to go fuck himself when he turned up on your doorstep."
"I was scared," she shot back. "I would have shared a cave with a dragon if I thought I would be safe."
"That's bullshit and you know it," He said, slicing through her excuses like a sharp knife. "The Hermione I know wouldn't settle. You've never settled. I worked my bloody arse of to get you, and I know how hard it is to win your trust. I also know that it's because of the years I fucked with you, so you don't have to tell me that."
"Don't act as though you're sorry now," she spat, feeling her hatred return quickly with the memory of their past.
"I am sorry!" He said, loudly, his face inches from hers. "I regret every bad word I ever said to you, every time I put a hand on you in a hateful way. The whole time I did it, I thought I did hate you. Every time you beat me on a test, mastered a spell or potion before me, I fucking hated it."
He sighed, rubbing his hand across his forhead in a pained way.
"Then I started to hate that smile you did when a teacher praised your work. The way you'd bite your lip when writing a difficult essay. I hated your frizzy hair, which looked so soft, and smelt like apples whenever I passed you. I hated the way I could pick out your laugh, out of everybodies in the Great Hall, and I hated the way it was always Longbottom who made you laugh."
Hermione stared at him, shocked. Her heart was racing at the close proximity.
"I hated the way your little skirt would ride up your thigh in potions, and I'd spend the whole damn lesson staring at it and miss all the note-taking. How, no matter how many time's I called you ugly, you just got more bloody beautiful, and all I would think about late at night. And I fucking hated how, of all the people in the world I could obsess over, it was the worlds joke to make it a Muggle-born."
Hermione noted that it was the first time he had referred to her as a Muggle-born, she wondered when that had started.
Draco was breathing heavily by the end of his rant, his expression fiery. He had just spilled his every thought to her, and she secretly needed to hear it.
"Don't torture me again, Granger." He said quietly. "I've spent years torturing both of us, and I don't want that anymore. I regret every bad thing I've done, but I had my reasons at the time."
"You could have just ignored me, pretended I didn't exist like the rest of the school," Hermione replied.
Draco nodded. "I guess I could have. But I didn't want to take the risk of you not knowing I existed, when every night I was fantasising about taking you on Snape's desk."
Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed, and Draco seemed to realise what he said. He shoved his hands in his pocket, staring at his feet. They stood in silence for a moment.
"I probably did love you, before this whole memory thing happened," Hermione admitted. Draco looked up at her, his expression intent. "But I'm assuming the circumstances for that happening were a lot easier before. Maybe that was a one off chance, Malfoy, because I don't see myself feeling that way again. In all honesty, I just want this whole thing to be over so I can go home, and never have to see a Malfoy again in my life."
It was harsh, but it was how she felt. She was exhausted, and sick of hiding. The moment he realised that their time had passed, the easier it would be.
He stared at her for a moment, as if gauging the truth of her words.
"I don't believe that," he said after a moment. She sighed.
"Then don't," She said, "but, please, just leave me alone."
She turned and left, feeling awkward as he stared after her. She ran up the stairs, and into her room, closing the door behind her.
Ironically, she felt like the cruel one for saying those words to him. But they were true. She didn't love him, and she didn't know how she had come to love him. But a part of her mind was screaming at her. The part that believed that maybe she should just trust herself, and give in to his words. But mostly, she just wanted her life back, and her memories. And she knew, being so close to Draco Malfoy meant that none of that would happen.
Blaise lay staring at the high ceiling of his bedroom that day, sending himself mad with his thoughts. Potter and Weasley were visiting Diagon Alley with Weasleys family, but Blaise had declined an invitation, as he wasn't really up for going anywhere.
He, instead, was thinking furiously about where Draco could be, and whether Hermione was actually dead. Everything he had thought, was starting to look as though it might not be true.
He had tried to visit Malfoy Manor once more, in a last attempt to get some answers, but he had been turned away by a wizard at the door. He was sure they were hiding something, or perhaps Narcissa was in danger. He wasn't so much worried for her, just the answers she had.
His thoughts were interrupted by a crack, and Loccy appeared in his room.
"Master Zabini has a visitor," Loccy informed him. "Does Master Zabini want Loccy to send them away?"
Blaise frowned, who would be visiting him? "Who is it?"
"Loccy has never met the witch before," He told Blaise.
Blaise sat up quickly. The witch?
Loccy apparated him down to the sitting room, and immediately his expression dropped. Pansy Parkinson was seated on his lounge, with a shawl dramatically wrapped around her head. She was always one for drama, and he knew of only one reason she would be here.
"I don't know where Draco is," Blaise drawled, "and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
She looked up at Blaise with a bored expression. "Do you honestly think I'm still crying over our never-to-be wedding, Blaise?"
Blaise raised his brow. "Of course I do. I've known you since we were kids, Pansy, and you've always gotten what you wanted, with the help of a tantrum of course."
She removed her gloves. "Well, tantrums aren't much help when your fiance has run off. My father decided the Malfoys had embarrassed our family for long enough, so he was the one to cancel the betrothal."
Blaise sighed. He wasn't interested in Pansy's life. "Did you come here just to tell me that?"
She glared at him, her pale skin and dark hair making it seem more harsh. "No, I didn't. Despite what you might think, Blaise, Draco and I were friends. Before he changed his tune about me, we got along. I was the only one that really shared his hatred for Granger, which now seems was a bit of confusion on his part."
"What's your point?" Blaise asked.
"My point is, I don't hate him like you seem to think I do. We've all changed. I know if I had married him, I would never have been happy being second best to a mud-blood. Even though I'll never be the most powerful and richest woman in the wizarding world, at least I'll be with a man who respects me for my blood status, and is proud of me."
"Good for you," Blaise drawled.
"Well, I would never do any favours for that mudblood," Pansy said, screwing her face up, "but I would for my father."
"Your father used to be a death eater, and probably still kills people," Blaise spat, his expression full of disgust.
Pansy jutted out her chin. "My father is a respectable man. He's the Head of the Auror department, for Merlins sake. He would never kill someone!" She let out a short breath and looked at her hands.
Blaise rolled his eyes. Pansy had no idea the kind of things her father had done in the past, and probably still did now. She was in denial. He listened half-heartedly as she continued speaking.
"I was in my father's study the other night, I was only going through his desk to steal some of his cigars for a party I was attending. Anyway, I came across a stack of letters from Lucius Malfoy." She hesitated.
"And?" Blaise prompted. He hoped she was about to tell him some relevent information.
"Well, I only read them because I saw Draco's name mentioned. Lucius was basically ordering my father to kill the mudblood." She looked stressed, and Blaise admitted that she had reason to."He was saying he was powerful enough to have my whole family wiped out if he didn't do it."
"So Hermione isn't dead?" Blaise asked, his heart in his throat. Pansy shook her head.
"Another letter said that Mrs Malfoy had helped her escape. Lucius couldn't prove it though, as it was right after you attacked them in the manor."
Blaise furrowed his brow. "How come they haven't come after us?"
Pansy shrugged. "If they did, it would only draw suspicion, all Lucius seems to want is to kill Granger and find Draco."
"And why does that bother you?" Blaise asked. It sounded like all Pansy would want.
"Because he's trying to make my father do his dirty work." She cried. "If he got caught, which he would, he would go to Azkaban for life, and our name would be nothing."
"That's why you're telling me this?" Blaise aksed. Pansy nodded.
"Pansy, I know you're upset, but your father has probably already done enough to get himself sent to Azkaban." Blaise told her, trying to sound sympathetic. "I doubt this is the first time he has asked your father for favours."
Pansy eyed him, her eyes were filled with tears. "I know that, Blaise. But I don't want my father doing that. He's a powerful man without Lucius Malfoy, he doesn't need him."
Blaise didn't understand where this was going. "Why are you here, Pansy?"
"In one of the older letters," Pansy sniffled, "Lucius asked my father to be involved in a muggle attack in some town, I can't remember the name."
Blaise frowned. "A muggle attack? Did he do it?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so. But it was the attack on Granger they were talking about. She was staying at some muggle girls house when it happened."
Blaise couldn't believe it. It was the night Hermione's memories were erased. They finally had proof that Lucius was behind Hermione's attack.
"You need to get that letter, Pansy." Blaise told her, feeling desperate. "You need to hand it in. Not to just anyone, but the Minister of Magic himself."
Pansy shook her head quickly. "No. No. If I hand it in my father goes to Azkaban. I'm telling you so you can find another way to take Lucius down, without hurting my family."
Blaise grit his teeth. "This is bigger than your family, Pansy." He growled.
She stood, wiping her eyes, her expression told him that she would find a different option. "Take it or leave it, Blaise."
When he didn't answer, she began making her way out.
"Wait!" He succumbed after a moment. She stopped walking and turned to face him.
"Just tell me what you know. What else did the letters say?" He asked.
Pansy strolled back to the chair. "Alot. And I've already made a plan."
Blaise raised his brow. "And what is your plan?"
He didn't have much hope that it was a good plan. Pansy had never been one for anything more than talking about hair, and clothing. Although, she seemed different. Maybe she was finally realising to get anywhere in the world, you need brains.
"Well, the only reason that no one has been accused for the attack on Granger is because the Ministry lacks any witnesses." Pansy explained. "Granger has no memories, and the muggle girl was obliviated. From my research, I believe the Weasley family has taken her in."
Blaise nodded slowly. "I've met her since. She doesn't remember a thing. Neither of them do, so how does this help us?"
Pansy eyed him, as though he were missing an important point.
"Granger's memories were never destroyed." Pansy said slowly, her expression excited.
Blaise sighed. He had spoken with Hermione many times since the incident of her memory loss. She remembered nothing.
"Pansy, she doesn't remember a thing." Blaise drawled. "I've spoken to her, which is more than I can say for you."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Her memories are gone from her head, Blaise," She said slowly like he was daft, "but they aren't gone. Lucius Malfoy has them."
Blaise stared at her for a moment, gauging what she was saying. "How do you know that?" He asked, his heart racing.
If Hermione's memories were simply stolen, not destroyed, they may be able to get them back.
"It happened shortly after I paid Lavender Brown to search Grangers things for evidence of an affair with Draco. It was easy because Granger was already away from school." Pansy eyed Blaise as though worried about his reaction. "I found a locket and a note. I was so angry, I sent them to Lucius, then Granger was attacked a couple of days later."
Blaise stared at her, his expression growing more dangerous. "So you're saying this is your fault?"
She shook her head, quickly. "No, it's not. People were already growing suspicious of them."
"But you told Lucius," Blaise snapped. He couldn't believe the selfishness of this girl. Constantly looking out for herself and her own.
Pansy stared at the carpet, he had to admit she looked ashamed, but he wasn't fooled by her.
"I was upset, Blaise," She said, "I didn't think Lucius would do anything. I thought he'd just order Draco to stop."
Blaise rolled his eyes. He didn't believe that. Pansy wanted Hermione out of the picture. He could barely stand to be near her, but he needed more answers.
"Why did he extract the memories, instead of just destroying them?" Blaise asked, his voice tense.
Pansy shrugged. "Maybe so he could view them for himself? Maybe to use them as leverage in the future? Maybe because she was a witness to a crime organised by Lucius? I don't know, Blaise."
Blaise bit his lip. "Do you know where Draco is?"
Pansy shook her head. "No one does."
Blaise nodded. If Pansy didn't know, then maybe Lucius didn't. At least Draco would be safe.
"So, if we find the memories, then what?" Blaise asked. "Hermione's missing. She has been since Lucius got his hands on her again."
"You find her, give them to her, she's able to point the finger at Lucius, and he goes down." Pansy snarled. She really didn't like him. "My family is safe, your friends are safe, everybody wins."
Blaise had to admit it really was a win-win situation. They already had no hope of ever getting their lives back to normal, what would it hurt to chase this lead?
Blaise had to admit he didn't trust Pansy one bit, but they seemed to both want the same thing. Blaise bit his lip. After giving up so easily, he owed it to Hermione and Draco to at least try and fix this.
Blaise nodded toward Pansy, who was waiting impatiently for his answer.
"Everybody wins."
A/N: Hop you enjoyed. Please review :)
-Leni
