Hermione broke the surface with a shuddering gasp. Sometime during her wanderings in Memory World, she had shifted to a kneeling position with her arms, hands gripping either side of the Pensieve, supporting her weight. Hermione was suddenly afraid her arms would give out, and she'd fall back into Draco's memories. She scrambled back from the Pensieve, not stopping her frantic movements until her back hit the bed's headboard. Hermione rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to calm herself. To interlace the very fibers of two peoples' skin.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She. Is. Mine. She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Don't let your happiness slip away because you're too stubborn to be happy.
With a heaving sigh, Hermione stood from the bed. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and her forehead leaned against the door. She took another shuddering breath. She muttered the only word that could give her strength to straighten her spine, twist her wrist, and find the tosser who had left her years worth of memories without a note as a contingency in case he was murdered. "Always."
Always, my ass.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Theo had had a glorious day. Draco, Narcissa, and Hermione were safe. Lucius was dead, which really only improved his mood. And Fenrir was gone too. Really. It should be a national holiday. Theo had finished all his homework in the library with Luna, and then he had snuck off for some extracurriculars in the library with Luna. And now, they were serving his favorite day. Glorious. Truly glorious.
And that's why Theo should have known it was all going to Hell.
Blaise slammed himself into the seat opposite Theo, shaking the table and sloshing Theo's soup out of its bowl. It dripped onto his lap. When Theo looked up to scold the bastard, however, he was wearing such a shit-eating grin that it halted Theo in his tracks.
"What did you do?" Theo almost growled. He just wanted to eat his soup in peace.
"Well, you see, my dear Theo," Blaise made a show of leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "I finally secured my position as Best Man."
Theo wanted to cry. He had just wanted his soup. But if Blaise had interfered, Draco would soon find out. And then Theo would have to talk Draco off a ledge and stop him from murdering Blaise and - and he just wanted his soup. "Pray tell, how?"
"Remember those memories Draco gave to McGonagall to give to me to give to Granger?" Theo barely managed to nod. This was bad. "Well, Draco never asked for them back. And he did tell me to Granger."
"If he was dead!" The words left Theo on a nervous bubble of laughter. He was so fucked.
"If he wasn't around to reclaim them!" Blaise exclaimed with glee. Could Theo be an accessory after the fact? "And guess what! He isn't around! Hasn't been for days! And he never reclaimed them!" Blaise was acting as if he had solved the mystery of life.
"Merlin." Theo whimpered.
Blaise continued to smile giddily. He spooned some soup for himself and set to work. Theo, meanwhile, couldn't even think of soup. His stomach was in knots. Those knots only tightened when a bag was slung into the seat beside him.
"Be right back," Draco called over his shoulder.
Theo and Blaise watched as Draco walked along the Ravenclaw table. "Corner," Draco called as he approached the boy. Fucking hell. Theo was going to have to stop two fights tonight. "Thought you'd like your book back." Draco slammed a book in front of Michael, completely disregarding the full plate. "Thanks for lending it to me." Draco clapped Michael on the shoulder, "Really did save my life." With a chuckle, Draco returned to his friends and settled into his seat.
Theo tensed. Blaise started ribbing Draco about his side projects. Draco rolled his eyes and started on his soup. Soup. All was calm. Maybe Theo would get lucky. Maybe the Blaise-Draco fight could wait until tomorrow. Maybe he could relax enough to enjoy his dinner. He tentatively dipped his spoon.
Halfway to his mouth, however, Longbottom sneezed. He sneezed! And that drew Draco's attention to Hermione's empty seat.
Theo saw the exact moment the thought dawned on Draco. Theo set his still-full spoon down, reknotted his stomach, and braced for impact.
"Blaise, do you have the memories I gave you?"
"Nope." The boy continued to eat his soup without a care in the world.
"Where are they?" Draco's tone sharpened.
"Dunno." Blaise shook his head and waved his spoon aimlessly through the air, "Probably in a Pensieve somewhere."
"Who's Pensieve?" Draco was glaring now.
"I don't think Granger has her own, so probably McGonagall's." Draco slammed his hands onto the table. Luckily, dinner was in full swing, and the hall was loud, so no one looked to the commotion.
Draco turned to look at Theo. "Did you know about this?"
"Not in time to stop it." Theo shrugged.
"And why-" Draco turned his glare to Blaise, "-did you think giving my memories to Granger was a good idea?"
"Well, you see, my dear Draco," Theo groaned. Draco was going to kill Blaise, and then Theo would have to choose whether to testify for his best friend Draco or testify to convict his best friend Blaise's murderer, "You have about a month left on that pesky engagement clock of yours. Turns out, you've been in love with that crazy swot for the better, and worse, parts of your life. And you have a ring. And you weren't going to act. So I had to act so Hermione could act. Bloody Gryffindors can't sit on information like I gifted her for more than twenty minutes."
Theo braced for the impending explosion. He scrunched his eyes closed and ducked his head. But nothing came. He tilted his head and peaked at Draco. The blonde's mouth was opening and closing angrily without sound.
"Did you silence him?" Theo's voice gave away the tension in his body.
"Thought you did."
"I-" Draco finally managed, "Stay the fuck away from me." Without another word, Draco left the hall. Theo heard the main doors open and close.
"Looks like our Draco is growing up! Granger must really have whipped him into shape. Thought for sure I'd have a black eye come morning."
"Have you seen Draco?" Fucking hell.
"Granger! I'd say you missed the show, but I suspect you had one of your own." Heat colored Hermione's cheeks, "Thought as much. Draco is sulking by the lake if you're so inclined as to go find him. It's a bit chilly for the time of year; I'd recommend a warming charm."
Hermione left. Blaise enjoyed his soup. Theo slammed his head against the table.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Draco knew his peace on the shore of the lake was only temporary. Just like he knew it was her approaching. Only Hermione Granger could heave those giant doors open with such force. Only Hermione Granger could loudly stomp her way down the grassy hill behind him. And only Hermione Granger could force him to turn around against his will.
Her hair was tied back into a bun. Or it used to be. In what Draco was sure was a harrowing trek from wherever she watched his memories, and her bun simply had not survived. If he looked her in the eyes, he'd see hers frantically flicking back and forth between his. If he were operating at his fullest capacity, he would have noticed her gripping the vial in her fist.
As it was, however, after Draco noticed her hair, he had noticed her attire. Although she was wearing a pair of those tight pants he loved so much, it was her shirt that had his brain stalling. It was his shirt. His quidditch jersey from his earlier years.
They spoke at the same time. She said, "I thought you were fitted for your robes with Harry." while he stuttered, "You're wearing my shirt."
"What?" She asked, her eyebrows climbing into her hairline.
"My shirt. That's my old quidditch jersey."
"I grabbed it from the manor." She answered dismissively before setting herself back on track, "Is this really what you want to talk about right now?" He squinted his eyes against the sun behind her and focused on the spot above her shoulder. "Let's start small. I thought you were fitted for your robes with Harry."
He ground his teeth together. "I was." His voice remained tight, "I was preoccupied during my first fitting. I had to go back. That's when I met Potter."
"Is that really all you're going to say?" She paused. He knew he was expected to speak. "What are you playing at here, Draco?"
Draco sighed heavily, watching from over her shoulder as a small creature ran across the grass in the distance. "What do you mean?" If possible, his voice was tenser.
"You leave me memories showing me how you've loved me and protected me, but I'm only supposed to see them if you died. And you would have died because you ran off half-cocked, having denied my help because why? I'm a capable witch. I know that you know that, your mother knows that, hell, the entire wizarding world knows that. The memories showed you liked me, to an extent. So the only explanation why you wouldn't take me with you is because you're still on about the mudblood business."
Draco finally snapped, balling his hands into fists to stop himself from gripping his face or rubbing at his face, "Granger, I don't know what more I could possibly do to assure you that I recognize your superiority. In every single facet of life. You are my superior, Granger, in every way." She took a step back, making it clear that he had responded far too enthusiastically. Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Did you know my parents were soulbound?" His voice was softer now, drawing Hermione closer, "There are multiple variations, but the version they used was uncommon at the time of their binding, and it's illegal now." She tried to speak, but he held up his hand to halt her. If he stopped now, Draco wasn't sure if he could continue, "It was outlawed as soon as the Ministry had reestablished itself after the first war because it gave the husband disproportionate power over the woman. With the bond, the husband can transport his wife to the ancestral home, with or without her consent." Pieces were clicking into place for Hermione, "I am sorry if I snapped at you." Draco whispered, "She's my mum. I was not going to leave her vulnerable to my father's will, but I also was not going to jeopardize you in doing so. No matter how capable of a witch you are."
The silence was crushing. He returned his gaze to his spot above her shoulder. His arms had dropped back to his sides. He didn't notice her move until he felt her finger intertwine with his. He looked down at her in time to see her raise up to press her lips against his. Keeping one hand locked with hers, Draco let his eyes slide shut and wrapped his other arm around her waist to pull her closer. He had finally settled into their rhythm and was working up the courage to run his tongue along her lip when Hermione pulled back.
Her lips whispered against his when she spoke, "Draco, marry me."
Draco's head jerked back, but his arm remained around her, "That's not how it's supposed to work."
"What about us is how it's supposed to work?" Hermione chuckled, but Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"You turned Weasley down in October. You barely talked to me before then, and you want to be engaged."
Hermione smiled cheekily to herself, remembering Harry's words. "You're so very different from Ronald. You fight me when I'm wrong. You challenge me. You support me. You've seen the most ridiculous sides of me, but, for some reason, you still love me," she trailed off, "or at least you did in your memories."
Draco looked at her skeptically. After a moment's consideration, he spun her in his arms and began forcing her up the hill, "Draco! Where are we going?"
"Infirmary. Clearly you have a head injury." She dug her heels into the ground, knowing that if he really wanted to continue, he would. But he didn't. "Granger, you propose to me, without a ring, might I add," he quirked his eyebrow, "and then imply that I don't love you?"
"You told me you heard what I said."
Draco rested his hands on her shoulders, then ran them down her arms. He laced his fingers through hers, "If I say it, you'll be wrapped up in my mess. I ca-"
"Don't you dare." She cut him off, and her grip tightened on his fingers enough to make him wince, "I can take care of myself. I can make my own decisions. Whether you like it or not, Draco, I. Love. You. I don't know when it happened, but it happened, and there's no going back. I want to be with you. I want to be your wife. I want to raise the next generations of Malfoys with you. I want to conquer the world with you." She looked up at him through her lashes, and he was startled to see moisture brimming in her eyes. "I thought you were dead." She reached over and fiddled with her charms, "I watched you die, and then I saw our children die." She did her best to swallow a small sob. "It was a future I hadn't actively thought about, but suddenly it was gone. And -" she had a harder time stifling this sob, "It made me so mad. It made me so mad, Draco, that I cast an unforgivable. I tortured your father for what he did to us because it was the only proportionate response and I don't regre-"
She was cut off by Draco cupping her cheeks, "Hermione." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll tell you what," he took another step into her space, "If you still want to marry me after you see the entirety of my family's mess," he wiped a lone tear from her cheek with his thumb, "I will profess my love to you and propose to you because believe me, Hermione," he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "there is nothing I would rather do."