AN: Two chapters left... Suffer.

Draco woke to a splitting headache on his couch at way-too-early o'clock. He groaned as he rolled, grimacing at the once comfortable couch. When had it gotten so stiff? He bought this piece in Venice only a year ago for its plushness and style, there was no way it had already worn out. He cracked open his eyes only to be assaulted by sunlight.

The gleaming morning cut through his bleary gaze like toffee cracking. His discomfort only continued as he pulled himself up to glance around the room. A shooting pain lanced through his stomach with anger and resentment, as if his whole body was rioting against the disturbance to his sleep. When he lifted his shirt, he revealed a bright red circle about the width of his open palm. He turned his confused attention on the room. While not lying in shambles, some things were certainly off. His coffee table was pushed from the center of the room, his rug by the fireplace had a folded up edge, and a large dent was present on the wall behind him. What on earth had happened to him?

He rubbed at his face trying to recall the previous night, the images passing by like ships in the night. The Menagerie, Blaise and Theo, Pansy, curses, pain. Blaise must have gotten into another fight, this time with someone dangerous. He was working up the energy for a fire call when his floo burst to life, his wards crackling as they broke.

"Move! Canvas the place. Check every closet, room, trunk, everything." The mob of people landed in his living space when a burst of green flames and floo powder. He swiped at his wand only to find it flying towards a familiar scowling redhead.

Ronald Weasley looked severely put out as his team of aurors scuttled about all but trashing his flat. He flinched as he heard the sound of something smashed, he hoped it wasn't his crystal bar set. A small buzz at the back of his head triggered, stopping his thoughts on a dime. Before he could reflect on it the Minister of Magic stepped through the flames.

"Where is she Malfoy?" He questioned. His icy gaze was enough to quell even Draco's outrage. Something told him that the wizard was not to be pushed right now.

"What are you talking about Potter? And why are there ants swarming my living quarters?" He grimaced as someone blew the door off his study. "You'll be paying for that."

"You know why! Where is Hermione? She was supposed to be in my office this morning." Harry all but shouted, held back only by a long suffering Weasley.

"Granger?" Draco sighed, vaguely remembering his previous conversations about the witch. "For fucks sake. I told you I hadn't seen her since graduation."

"Filthy liar-"

"Calm down, mate." Draco cocked his head in confusion as Ron Weasely sent him a sympathetic look. Since when were they ever on the same team? Images flashed in his mind of a visit to a muggle bar and a stilted but not awful conversation with the man. Whatever had possessed him to suffer that he would never know but was at least grateful for the interference.

"I will need some specifics." Draco commented as he leaned back into his horridly uncomfortable sofa with a grimace. He closed his eyes trying to picture last night's memory past the haze of alcohol. Dueling was not against the law, not if unforgivables weren't cast.

"You were here, with her, last night. Half dead. I should have let you die." Potter hissed, pinning him with a look of hate that was so dangerous Draco was reminded of a rather uncomplimentary comparison to the Dark Lord. Not that he would be sharing that thought with the wizards. "I swear if you've so much as given her a paper cut-"

"Don't remember much of last night." He yawned, crossing his arms. He was usually quite angry about these things, his temper lashing out quickly and indiscriminately. He was still angry but it was schooled under a surface of nonchalance. His father would be proud.

"We will see about that. Legilimens!" Draco flinched as the spell tore into his memories with an unexpected fevor, much stronger than when he had gone digging for the same reason months ago. With a growl Draco flicked away the invading mind.

"You will forgive me if I don't want someone so volatile in my head." He responded acidly, eyeing the other man who was currently holding his head while glaring at Draco.

"All clear sir. Nothing alive in here." A stone faced auror responded over his shoulder. That's right. He had sent Pinky away… on vacation… for some reason? Odd. He didn't even think house elves could take vacations. Where would they go? A resort's broom closet?

"Harry." Ron started his hand on Potter's shoulder. "Are you sure-"

"Of course I am sure!" Harry hissed turning on his friend. "You all saw her Patronus come for me. I showed you the memory!"

"Harry we saw a crow come in and whisper something only you heard before you dove into the nearest floo." Ron responded firmly. Draco looked on in confusion, wondering how pissed Blaise was going to be at the turn of events. "Her patronus was an otter."

"But the memory-"

"Was outlandish and blurry. Maybe it was a dream. After all, she was cradling Malfoy whispering sweet nothings in his ear on his deathbed." Weasley looked at him appraisingly and Draco just shrugged, not sure what was going on. "He just looks hungover to me."

"You don't understand!"

"Look I know you miss her but-"The red head offered softly.

"Check his memories." Harry shot turning viciously on Draco. "His will match up."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco responded back wholly incredulous at the very idea of letting anyone stumble around his brain looking for any evidence to implicate him in Merlin-knew-what.

"Harry. That requires paperwork and-"

"He'll consent." Potter's eyes met his in an evil grin. "He has nothing to hide, right Malfoy?"

He was about to protest when he remembered the fight from last night. He still wasn't sure what had happened and while he doubted his friends had done anything too below board, if Potter went on a warpath, they would be swept up in it. He weighed the option carefully before answering.

"I don't know where mu-ggleborn is." He kept his face placid even in the wave of confusion as he tripped over the word. Judging from the way Potter's grip tightened on his wand, it was a good save. "However, if I let you run wild through my mind I have some conditions."

"You don't-"

"Let's hear them." Weasley interrupted, rubbing his temples with a scowl. "I would like to clarify that in the eyes of the law this is wholly voluntary until a warrant is obtained."

Draco had no doubt considering the Minister was the one demanding it, it would be granted anyway. He might as well get something out of it. He eyed Potter, who was watching his every move with suspicion.

"The idiot is right on that account. I have nothing to hide." Draco responded watching the anger broil as Harry shook. He turned his attention back to Weasley. "First off, you will stick with memories only pertaining to Gr-… the witch." Her name felt weird on his tongue and he couldn't manage to use it now that he was properly awake. "Secondly, you do not use these memories to implicate me in any charges now or in the future. And lastly," He pinned his gaze back on the fuming half blood. "I will not be bothered by this again. I find it rather unsavory that the Minister of Magic is abusing his power to torment a non-guilty party about some childish obsession of his."

"Fu-"

"Granted." Weasley responded, sending the Minister a quelling look. "On two conditions, the first is you will not be pardoned any unforgivables cast. Secondly, you will make no mention of this outside of this room."

Draco was confused by the subtle confidence from Weasley that he wouldn't find anything. Some sort of tiff between the two best friends perhaps. "Deal. You will find no Unforgivables cast and I have no interest in the firestorm that would surround either of us."

Weasley nodded before Harry stepped forward menacingly. Draco repressed a flinch as he pulled up his wand.

"Mate." Ron sighed evenly, stopping the motion. "I'll take care of this. You're out of the field, remember?"

Potter snarled but lowered the sprig of holly, never taking his eyes off Draco. Seemingly satisfied Ron stepped forward, raising his own length of willow. He didn't even need to verbalize the spell before Draco felt the man prodding around his walls, testing out Draco's resistance. With a grimace he lowered his barrier's allowing the slimy feeling of another consciousness to pervade his thoughts.

He tried to repress the surprise that Ronald Weasley was actually good at something and the man drifted through his mind with very little pain. Judging by the general feeling of amusement he had failed. The first memory Ron flicked over was of the battle of Hogwarts, Draco was in the courtyard, facing down Potter holding his wand out dramatically. Fuck he looked awful. Skin and bones, pale, weak. In the background he could just make out a rather soft looking collection of curls before Weasley pulled away from the memory like it burned him.

The next memory, true to his word did not occur until just last year. He was in his office with Blaise, a mound of paperwork on his desk.

""What do you know about Hermione Granger?"

"The muggle swot? From the golden gang of heros? I dunno, I haven't heard anything about her in ages. Why?"

"I've heard whispers lately about a mysterious potion brewing witch. I have my suspicions."

"She was always better than you at potions."

Weasley paused for a moment before flicking to the next memory, his office blurred away only to reform with minute changes.

"Before I kick you out of my office. Do you have anything else to share?"

"Hm? Like dinner recommendations?"

"About that issue I had you look into."

"Ah, Granger. Well…

A stack of newspapers appeared on his desk. Hermione Granger Missing! Flashed across the headlines. That's right, she pulled a vanishing act hadn't she. Clever witch that one.

"From everything I have found she disappeared sometime after the summer of 99'. Huge scandal. It was in all the papers at the time but we were… you know."

"She's not been heard of since? Even, behind the scenes?"

"Nothing from my informants. She really does appear to have just vanished into thin air. The investigation by the ministry was massive but eventually petered out. There was thought that when Potter became minister he would start it up again, but he never did."

"Any idea why not?"

"For a while there were rumblings that he had gotten rid of her himself, as she stood to be next in line for Minister after graduation. But those rumors came out to be purely speculative. If he knows where she is he isn't sharing."

"Sounds like she doesn't want to be found."

"Safe to say. Well?"

"No, I must have been mistaken."

He felt the general curiosity from Weasley as he replayed Blaise's comment about their time after the war and his 'informants'. With an insistence push from his mind, Weasley kept his promise moving on to the next scene.

It was the one where Potter had accosted him in the ministry. Weasley's disapproval was apparent and the memory flickered again, this time coalescing in the Menagerie. He was becoming quite familiar with a stunning raven haired witch when Potter launched into his tirade again, this time pulling in his date. He felt the coolness slip around his mind at some choice words but Ron again didn't comment on it. For some reason the conversation made him slightly queasy.

A new setting of a vaguely familiar muggle bar drifted in before being waved away quickly. Finally, the memory of last night appeared, a harried Pansy apparating onto the manors doorstep. His sudden appearance at the warehouse district. Flashing of curses and pain in his stomach, a quick port home. Then blackness.

He returned to his living room, a ghost of pain triggering in his abdomen. He ignored it, his eyes focused on the way Potter smirked so confidently at the redhead.

"Well?"

"Sorry to bother you...Mr. Malfoy." Weasley grumbled out the honorific like it was sand in his mouth. It pleased Draco dearly. "You are of course free to go."

"What?!" Harry all but shouted.

"I should say so." Draco responded, forcing himself to rise. His living room was now covered in soot, heavy boot prints tracked into his study and hall. "You have made a mess of my flat."

"Consider it your last household inspection." Weasley had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. "Keep your nose clean and we shouldn't have any issues."

Draco considered throwing a fit for the fun of it but ultimately accepted the peace offering with a nod. He was planning on keeping his silence anyway.

"You cannot be serious." Potter gawked at his friend before turning on Draco with a new fevor. "What did you do? How did you hide-"

"We're heading out!" Weasley called to the aurors who came slinking into the living room eyeing him with suspicion. Potter was still hissing to his friend as the redhead threw an exasperated look over his shoulder, almost as if he expected Draco to sympathize with him. Odd. They disappeared in a flash of green the aurors piling in behind them, leaving his living room a mess and his brain even more fuzzy than before.

He had barely managed to shower and suck down an unfamiliar but fast acting pain potion (he had to find out where Pinky had gotten it) when he heard his floo sound again. Not wanting to be arrested naked he charmed all of his clothes onto himself quickly. He caught a quick glance of a dark bruise on his collarbone, clearly it had been a busy night. Maybe it was the work of that raven haired witch, he wished he remembered her name. Or number. Or really anything about her.

"What in Merlin's name happened here?" He heard the familiar growl of a Zabini rampage beginning as he sauntered out of the bedroom. His two friends were standing in the living room taking in the carnage.

"Morning gentleman." He greeted as he drifted to the kitchen starting a simple breakfast of toast. They shrugged and joined him, watching him with measured looks. "Had a visit from the Minister this morning."

He swallowed his current bite, mildly wondering why he was so calm about all this. He must be exhausted from the fight last night.

"Shite." Blaise scowl deepened and Theo shuffled anxiously. "What did he want?"

He began pouring his coffee. There was a ghost of amusement as he stared at the black liquid, someone's grimace flashing across his mind. "The man thought I had his girlfriend tucked away in a broom closet somewhere again."

"Hermione?" Theo questioned cautiously. Draco raised his brow at the familiarity in his tone. Had the two of them… The thought sent an unfamiliar feeling of disgust and rage shooting across his mind. He was all out of sorts today.

"What did you say?" Blaise asked, still tense. The tone focused his thought back to the present. He really needed to go back to bed.

"The truth of course." He supplied easily. "That I hadn't seen the muggleborn since school. They rooted around my mind to confirm it after making some concessions. By the way you owe me, I have gotten us off on that little spectacle you caused last night."

"Yeah thanks." Blaise muttered distractedly. "So they didn't find anything… about her?"

"No." Draco scoffed his headache worsening as the conversation went on. "What was there to find? Just that bit about finding out if that damn potions mistress was her. Hardly anything suspicious there."

Blaise looked at Theo, his cool gaze speaking of something Draco couldn't catch. Theo simply shrugged, turning back to Draco. The action tickled something in his emotions that he didn't like.

"What?" His tone lowered a bit, the annoyance at being left out of the loop stoking his temper.

"Nothing mate." Blaise responded. "I'll work on running the press. This is going to be-"

"All below the table." He muttered, conceding the fight in the face of a now stabbing migraine. "Apparently Potter lost it. He was ranting about crows and me dying. I think Weasley is taking him to Saint Mungo's now."

"Well… that's… good." Blaise shook his head at Theo, a motion that Draco did not miss. "In any event I have a ton of paperwork for you to sign."

His confusion faded as Blaise produced a stack of paperwork, slipping back into his usual roll. There was so much, some back dated as far as two weeks. That's right, he had been on vacation too. That was why Pinky was gone. Why he had chosen to spend it dozing away at the manor alone he would never know but at least it was one mystery solved.

"Fine. But then I'm taking the rest of the day off. My head is killing me."

00000000000000000000

And so Draco floated for the next couple of days. He returned to work, surprised to find his usual hands on approach mostly automated at this point, leaving him an excessive amount of time to brew and putter about his home. Even with the carnage cleaned up something about the interrogation stuck in his mind, like an invisible wisp of hair, tickling the back of his neck.

There were times when it was worse. Like when he caught sight of a garish maroon blanket tossed over his office chair. Or when Pinky made some sort of cinnamon dessert crepe. It was the feeling that he was missing something, but he just couldn't remember what.

He was wandering through the kitchen, partially looking for something to do and partially to pace when he caught sight of the china cabinet. His mind was thick with the memories of the past year, flickering across his brain as he turned them over like an old skipping stone, trying to figure out why they felt wrong. He was musing over Christmas when he caught sight of his grandmother's tea set.

Very rarely used, the delicate China cups were rimmed in gold, hand painted black onyx was brushed with golden ferns and flowers. Inside a perfect white surface where yellow and black roses were revealed as the liquid sank lower. A cup was missing. Odd, he wasn't much for tea these days. For some reason the image of an ugly clay teapot shattering on the floor flickered through his mind. An angry pulse of pain bloomed at the base of his neck.

"I ruin damn near everything don't I?"

He grimaced at the disembodied voice, closing his eyes as he tried to force the memory anyway.

"Reparo."

"Thanks"

"Come sit." His own voice sounded soft and concerned. Usually a tone he only reserved for his mother but the voice didn't sound like her. Her. It was a woman. And she was upset. He couldn't remember why.

"Don't worry, we can tell Potter you went back to Spain." Spain? What did he do in Spain? His mind lanced with a sharp stab, warning him away but he ignored it. Something much bigger than pain was tickling at his consciousness. He was missing something... something important.

"How delicate do you think I am?"

"Why do you constantly think I am going to abandon you?" Fear spiked in his throat, the pain drifting down his spine as he pushed on, trying to follow the broken memory. Obliviation… That was the only possible solution. Who had gotten close enough to get past his walls? Who had been in his head and more importantly what did they take? If he let go now he may never find the thread again.

"I didn't mean to yell at you." The soft feminine voice echoed in his mind, lapping up against the 'something' he was missing. A cliff in a storm, seen only by the waves breaking. He concentrated harder, desperate not to let it fade away.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Want me to sit here until you decide?" His own voice carried softly, filled with what he recognized as unrepentant kindness and love. The scent of cinnamon intertwined in plush softness under his hand. It took him a moment to realize it wasn't hair at all but the rug he was laying on. When had he fallen? He ignored the question, trying to concentrate on blurry, half seen images. He was desperate to get someone to talk to him, to open up. He cared, deeply. For who?

You're very kind when you are drunk.

I'm not drunk, Granger.

The fragile glass draped over his memories shattered in a rain of pain and fear. They flooded back to him like water rushing to drought ravaged ground until he was surrounded by nothing but memories of her. Hermione.

World Building with Om

Oblivation

Oblivation is a imperfect spell that relies on a cool and collected caster as well as an unwitting victim. That larger the set of memories the harder it is to permanently block them. It is also very dangerous to push against forgotten memories and can result in a fractured mind if forced.