I don't know why, but I hadn't been expecting him to ask me about soulmates. It was silly, really; he'd seen the inscription in Anima and undoubtedly felt the same pull that I did whenever we were in close proximity.
Something inside of me cracked and tears started welling in my eyes, quickly escaping and flowing down my cheeks. I'd buried this — these feelings, these thoughts — deep down inside of myself and his question had started unearthing it all. The meagre amount of food on my plate made my stomach turn.
I remembered the ache I'd felt when I was Obliviating him, like I was tearing myself apart bit by bit. The whole time, I'd fought to suppress thoughts of soul magic because the ripping sensation inside my chest made me think of Horcruxes, of my soul being shredded.
Once I'd finished, I refused to think about it, let alone write about it in my journals or talk to anyone about it. It was too painful to even consider.
I chose to believe that there was no such thing as soulmates, even though I'd experienced what it felt like to find mine. Over and over, I reminded myself that Draco was never really mine, and therefore, it couldn't be true.
But I always felt his absence — the loss — in a way that far surpassed a normal breakup.
Deep down, I'd known that he had been right all along. We were soulmates, connected in a way that few could truly understand.
"Granger?" he said, breaking through the haze of my emotions. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
After taking a deep breath, I dashed my remaining tears away and looked him in the eyes.
"It's fine. We would've ended up talking about it tonight anyway."
His jaw tightened, knowing I was lying, but he nodded. "Okay. Do you—What should we talk about?"
"We can talk about it. The connection — the soulmate thing," I replied, my voice thick with emotion.
"Did we talk about it before you…?"
Shaking my head, I replied, "No. You wrote it in the book, and I never brought it up. Like I said, I never really believed in it until you were gone."
"What—" he huffed and paused, a hand rubbing at his cheek "—what does it feel like for you? Or what did it feel like?"
Thinking, I twisted my hands together, unable to hold still. "It felt like I just pulled and pulled until we tore apart. I thought that I'd lost pieces of myself, that you still had them."
"Pieces of you?"
"Could you feel them?" I asked nervously. "Like there was something there, but it was just… incomplete?"
I noticed his fingers curling into a fist and then straightening. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and I remembered the way he'd tasted, the way his lips were always soft but insistent.
"Yes," he answered, breaking the silence. "I could feel something missing all along."
A shiver raced down my spine.
And then guilt set in.
He was still living with Astoria, and Blaise had been gone for less than two days. I shouldn't even be letting myself entertain thoughts of Draco. I shouldn't be feeling excited that he could tell something had been missing all along. Hell, I probably shouldn't have even cooked him dinner.
But I was a fool when it came to him. No matter how many times we hurt each other, I kept opening myself up for more. Years had passed, and I was still the same stupid girl who had let him in over and over again when I knew it couldn't be anything more than a dirty little secret.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I had hoped that you'd be happy with Astoria and Scorpius."
Looking down at his hands, he replied, "I think I was for awhile. But I felt something pulling me back. I wanted part of my old life."
The lovesick part inside of me heard I felt you pulling me back, and I wanted you .
I waited a few seconds, giving him time to amend, but he didn't.
"I never thought you'd come back."
"I'm sorry, too," he said, swallowing hard, his voice thick with emotion.
"For what?" I asked.
Draco sighed and looked away. "You were happy with Blaise."
Just that morning, I'd had a long conversation with Penelope about this very topic, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk to Draco about it yet. I still had a lot to sort out on my own. For now though, I was one hundred percent sure that I couldn't let Blaise back in my life if — or when — he came to apologise.
"Listen, let's just… I don't want to talk about Blaise. Things between us got so messy and complicated and I don't know how I actually felt anymore."
"It seems we can't really talk about anything without entering a battlefield," he said, looking away again. "It's like there are curses in the air between us and we're dodging them."
"I need some time," I answered. "And I know that's selfish, but Draco, I'm trying. I can't just force myself to feel better."
"I understand. I know I've been… impatient. And, from the beginning, I haven't made this very easy for you."
I simply shrugged. There was no point in contesting what he'd said. It was all true.
The silence stretched between us for what felt like minutes, though I was sure it hadn't been more than thirty seconds.
"So… Christmas," he said, jumping to a topic he likely considered safe. "What did past Draco decide was an appropriate celebration?"
I smiled at him, and it felt more genuine than any of my smiles had since he'd found out about the Obliviation.
"He took me away for Christmas Eve, of course."
Looking at my plate, Draco asked if I was going to eat anymore. I shook my head, knowing I wouldn't be able to right now. My emotions were too raw and I was too volatile after the soulmate conversation, however brief it had been.
He set his fork down and wiped his mouth, dropping his napkin on his plate.
"Shall we?" he asked, rising to his feet and gesturing towards the Pensieve.
Closing my eyes, I touched my wand to my temple and twirled it, tugging the memories I wanted to show him free. There were a few distinct ones, but they were all equally important.
The silvery strands clung to the tip of my wand, and I stood. As we moved to the sitting area, I could've sworn I felt Draco's hand on the small of my back, guiding me along, his magic reaching for mine. When I looked to my side, though, his hand was in his pocket.
Had he touched me and then pulled away? Or was I a crazy person?
Setting the memories inside the basin, I waited for him to touch the surface.
The familiar feeling of landing in the memory should've been a comfort, but it really wasn't. This one wasn't all sunshine and shagging. I'd chosen to show Draco our Christmas Eve in France, the gift scavenger hunt, and part of my Christmas Day with the Potters and the Weasleys.
When I glanced over, I saw Draco looking around, cataloguing his surroundings.
"Are we at the Black estate in France?"
I nodded. "We are. You took me here for Christmas Eve."
He pushed his fringe back. "I wonder how I got that one by Mother. She usually has the wards around this place fortified."
"You never mentioned it," I answered with a shrug.
Just as I finished speaking, I heard the click of memory Hermione's heels on the austere black marble floors. She and memory Draco came into view, setting their bags down in the grand entrance hall.
"Purebloods really do live a different life," memory Hermione commented, running her fingertips along the surface of an antique table. "This place could be a museum."
"You haven't even seen it, Granger," memory Draco teased. "How can you tell based on the entrance hall alone? The rest of the estate could be quite barren. First impressions are very important."
She laughed. "Well, you just called it an estate, and even I know that means big with more land than anyone could ever need."
"My mother is quite fond of this place—"
To hide her discomfort with family talk, memory Hermione stepped forward, her hips swaying gently. She brought her hands up to his face, cupping it.
"I didn't come to France to talk about your mother."
When she pulled him down into a kiss, he groaned against her lips. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she rose up on her tiptoes, desperate to meet him halfway. Memory Draco's hands drifted down to her arse and squeezed.
"I suppose you didn't," he murmured against her lips. "Lucky for you, I have all kinds of things I want to do while we're here."
Lacing her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, she replied, "Well, I think we should get started on your list, then. We're only here for a day."
"I never have enough time with you. We could spend every single moment together, and it still wouldn't be enough for me."
And then memory Draco kissed her again, consuming her.
I remembered how those words had hurt. They'd made me think about how he could have more time with me, if not for Astoria. However, rather than fixating on that, memory Hermione let herself get swept away by his kiss and the way he lifted her and Apparated to a huge study.
When we all landed there, the set-up was clear. There was champagne and chocolate truffles and a nest of blankets and pillows in front of a roaring fire. The walls were lined with old books and magical heirlooms.
She broke the kiss to look around, and memory Draco squeezed her arse.
"No exploring yet," he stated firmly. "I want all of your attention right now."
Her breath hitched at the intense look in his eyes and the tone of his voice.
"Can you give me that, Hermione?" memory Draco asked. "I need it to just be us."
"Of c-course," she stuttered ineloquently, her nerves setting alight. "Whatever you want."
After setting her on the floor, his fingers started working his shirt buttons, deftly sliding them through the holes. Memory Hermione kept her eyes locked on him, watching every single movement. Her breathing had grown heavier and her teeth were sinking into her lower lip. She reached for the hem of her jumper, but he stopped her, shaking his head.
"Watch. And then I'll undress you."
As his shirt fell to the floor, he started working his belt buckle, pulling and sliding it free. He toed off his shoes, removed his socks, and then met her eyes as he slowly unfastened his trousers. Memory Hermione was still watching, her thighs pressed tightly together and her breath coming in shorter pants than normal.
The trousers fell to the floor, leaving him in only a pair of tight red pants.
"Do you want me to finish?" memory Draco asked, stroking his straining cock through the material. "Or do you want me to undress you first?"
She cleared her throat. "Whatever you want."
He smirked. "I quite like the sound of that." Stepping closer, he wrapped a hand around her hip. "Whatever I want."
Memory Hermione nodded, unable to speak.
"I'm assuming you can guess where we'll be laying down?"
Again, she nodded.
He grabbed the hem of her jumper and pulled it over her head, exposing the thin white camisole she'd been wearing underneath. Looking down, he saw that she was mostly exposed.
She hadn't worn a bra. Hadn't seen the point.
Memory Draco's hands moved to her breasts, caressing gently, his palms running over her hard nipples. From this vantage point, I could see that she arched into his touch the slightest bit, desperate to feel the sexual energy thrumming between them.
His right hand stayed on her left breast, but the left ventured down between her legs, cupping her and pressing the hard seam of her jeans against her slit. His lips landed on her throat, sucking and teasing her just the way she liked.
But it was all short-lived.
When she let out her first whimper, he pulled away, his hands sliding to the waistband of her jeans and unbuttoning them. As soon as they were pooled at her feet, he laughed.
"Shoes," memory Draco said.
Rather than leaning down, memory Hermione just closed her eyes and imagined the shoes and socks and jeans piled on a nearby chair. They went there, leaving her in a pair of green lace knickers and the white camisole.
It was her turn to laugh.
"Gryffindor red for you and Slytherin green for me." Her hand stroked over his cock, squeezing the head. "We've got Christmas colours."
"That we do," he said, hugging her tightly and pulling her closer. "And you're a goddess in green."
Biting her lip, she replied, "It's definitely festive, but I really don't think red is the best color for you. It makes you look slightly demonic."
"Like the Muggle version of the devil?"
Memory Hermione kissed him, silencing his teasing while she continued to caress his bulge, her fingers taunting him.
"Come with me," memory Draco said, pulling away and breaking the kiss.
"Oh, I plan to," she quipped, and he swatted her arse.
He led her to the blankets and pillows. As she stood in front of the makeshift bed, I could remember the warmth of the fire radiating against my skin, the anticipation of what was to come heating me from the inside out. I had been thinking about how many times I'd told him 'just this once' or that it was a 'summer fling'.
But it was Christmas, and I was still there with him.
"Go and lie down," he said gruffly. "I want to look at you in front of the fire. Just like that."
Again, her breath hitched, but she followed his command, settling herself into the soft nest of pillows and blankets. As soon as memory Hermione had nestled down — her hair splayed across the pillows — he loomed over her, looking down and memorising every inch of her.
Or he'd thought he had been.
She met his eyes, waiting to see what he'd do next.
"I can't believe you're here," he said, leaning forward and capturing her lips. "Gods, I dreamed this so many times."
Her fingers twisted in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed to hers and choosing to focus on the physical rather than the emotional. I saw his tongue swipe into her mouth, and she rolled them onto their sides, hitching her thigh over his hip.
Memory Draco's hands roamed down to her arse, squeezing and pulling her as close as possible. A whimper escaped her lips and he drank it in, repeating the motion.
"Oh," she breathed as he kissed her neck and rocked against her core. "More."
"More?"
"More," memory Hermione demanded. "I love how you feel."
Kissing down her neck, her chest, he continued to move against her, his pants still firmly in place. She drank in his attention, her body flushing as arousal bloomed in her belly, her knickers getting wetter by the second.
Memory Draco's lips wrapped around her hard nipple, even though it was covered by her camisole. His tongue rubbed against it roughly, the cotton teasing along the hardened tip.
"Draco," she cried, and he rolled her onto her back again, setting himself between her thighs.
As soon as he was cradled there, he rocked against her again, his cock pressing into her clit harder than before. He pulled her camisole down, exposing her breasts, and sucked on her nipple.
When her eyes fluttered shut, he released her slowly, his teeth scraping along the length of the hardened bud. And then he kissed across her chest, repeating his motions on the other side.
"Could you come like this?" memory Draco asked after a few minutes of teasing. "With me sliding against you and sucking your nipples?"
"I think so."
"We'll have to try that another time," he commented, vanishing the remaining clothes with a snap of his fingers. "Are you ready for me? Or do you need—"
Memory Hermione cut him off with a kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he slipped inside of her easily, her body already wet and more than accommodating. He laced his fingers through hers and pinned her hands above her head.
I remembered expecting him to fuck me, to drive into me hard and fast.
But he didn't.
Moving languidly, memory Draco made love to memory Hermione, his thrusts strong and steady, his eyes locked on hers. His hips rolled, grinding down against her, and she met his movements, her body begging to come. Every single nerve had been triggered, firing powerfully. She moaned and breathed deeply; he watched her face, mimicking his movements when she reacted strongly.
I couldn't resist speaking as we watched them move together.
"This was the most intense sexual experience of my life," I said quietly. "Watching you like that, the way you were so focused on me…"
Present Draco looked over at me, and I saw the same intensity in his eyes. "I think it would've been mine, too."
Much to my horror, my clit throbbed at the look he gave me, my insides clenching.
I'd gotten wet watching the memories before — but this was new. I felt my body coming to life the way it used to when he touched me, remembering what it felt like and how desperately I wanted it to feel the same way again.
"Fuck, you're perfect."
Memory Draco's voice cut through the silence and, just for a second, I thought it had been present Draco.
His thrusts sped up in time with memory Hermione's breathing, his shaft dragging along her clit.
"Like that!" she cried, looking up at him. "Again, please!"
Moving the same way, his eyes locked on her face as it scrunched up, the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within her body. Her legs moved higher, her knees pulling up along his ribs. He dropped down lower, capturing her lips, his chest rubbing against her bare breasts.
He swallowed each cry, each whimper, each breath that escaped her and she held back, not letting the tension in her body release.
I could remember trying to prolong everything, thinking the orgasm would be that much more intense if only I held on a bit longer, waited for him to really drive into me.
"Come on," memory Draco panted, his fringe darkening with sweat. "I can feel you clenching around me. Let go."
"Harder," she demanded. "Please, Draco. Harder."
His body kept moving in the same way, but he sped up, crashing against her more violently than before. Her back arched off the makeshift bed and I saw her toes curling, every muscle in her body spasming.
"Fuck!" memory Hermione screamed, her body trembling as her release rolled through her. "Yes! Just like that!"
"Hermione, I'm going to come," he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he tried to hang on. "Fuck, I'm sorry!"
His cock sank into her once more and he released her hands, his weight settling atop her, pressing her into the rug. The pads of her fingers stroked up and down his back, soothing him. Silence filled the room, interrupted only by the crackling logs in the fire.
After a few minutes, memory Hermione asked, "Why did you apologise?"
Memory Draco laughed. "I came in less than five minutes."
"But I'd already finished—"
He cut her off with another kiss. "Darling, I wanted to make you come over and over again. Not just once. Tonight is supposed to be special."
"Special?" she asked, unsure of what he meant.
Stroking her hair back and pulling it away from her face, memory Draco replied, "Yes. Special. I love you, Granger, and this is our Christmas celebration." He kissed her sweetly, his tongue stroking against hers. "And I know you've always loved Christmas."
"How?"
As he smiled down at her, memory Hermione took in every detail of his face, the way it looked in this light. She knew he was married, that this relationship was problematic at best, that it couldn't last. But she wanted to remember.
I had wanted to remember.
"I always noticed you, even when you didn't see me," memory Draco stated, not elaborating any further.
Memory Hermione shivered, the tingle of magic coursing through her in a completely different way than it had before. This time, it seeped down to her bones, infiltrating her very marrow. And it wasn't her magic.
It was his. And her guard had fallen enough to let it in.
She worried her lower lip, debating whether or not she should say something.
But then memory Draco kissed her, taking away her internal conflict. She stayed silent and forced her brain to shut off and let her body feel.
"What just happened?" present Draco asked, looking to me for answers. "That wasn't post orgasm shuddering. Your face—Something happened."
The scenery around us morphed, and we found ourselves in the same room at a different time.
I met present Draco's eyes. "I didn't realise what it was at the time."
"And now?"
"I think—" I took a deep breath "—I think that's when our… our souls… or my soul, it felt something. Something changed."
"Not in Mykonos?"
"Maybe it started to change in Mykonos, but here — in France — this is where I started to accept that this wasn't just a fling."
Present Draco's Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed, and we both looked around, finally registering that memory Draco and memory Hermione were on a chaise, curled together with a book in hand. Their eyes were both darting back and forth, reading the pages in front of them.
The book was old, almost falling apart.
And it was also one of the things I'd put on my mantle as I redecorated today.
Memory Draco read aloud. "He knew how she would love. He had not loved her without gaining that instinctive knowledge of what capabilities were in her. Her soul would walk in glorious sunlight if any man was worthy, by his power of loving, to win back her love."
"I like that," memory Hermione replied. "It's..."
His lips pressed against her cheek. "It's fitting."
Memory Hermione bit her lip again and turned the page, holding back what she wanted to say.
That yes, of course he knew how she would love — because she loved him.
Rather than watching memory Draco and memory Hermione read North and South , I sped up the memory, stopping towards the end of the night. I looked to present Draco, my stomach flipping as I thought about what Christmas Day would bring.
"You know, this has been the perfect evening," memory Hermione said, her head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. "Sex, a book, cuddling here…"
"I could get used to it," memory Draco replied, his lips landing on her neck and kissing the love bites he'd left behind earlier. "Take the book home if you want. To remember this by."
Memory Draco busied himself with her body, his hands roaming up towards her breasts; he didn't see the pained look on her face.
But present Draco did.
"I was completely oblivious," he stated. "I was so focused on fucking you that I didn't even realise—"
I cut him off, not letting him spiral.
"Stop. That was what I wanted. I didn't want you to know that I was feeling anything for you. I wanted it to seem like I was still just in this for a good time."
"But why?" present Draco asked, his eyes locked on the scene playing out in front of us. "You were already miserable—"
"I wasn't!" I shouted, abruptly halting his words. "Gods, by this point, we were already spending almost every night together, and I was in denial. Having sex was easier than talking about my feelings."
"Denial? About what?"
"I was already in love with you, obviously. But I was just starting to figure that out."
He didn't say anything more after that, and I chewed my cheek nervously, watching as memory Draco fingered memory Hermione, as she turned and straddled him, riding his cock until they were both shaking and sated again, their lips meeting and sharing breaths along with their kisses.
I thought back to the day in the Leaky before Hannah interrupted us, when my breathing had started to mirror his, and I saw it happening before my eyes in this memory. It always had.
As I looked to present Draco, my lungs started following the same cadence of his, and I knew they always would. If we were sharing space, we were in sync, even when our emotions were at odds. It may take a few moments, but our mutual awareness would eventually kick in and correct the disparities.
The sex didn't phase me this time around. I was facing the chaise, but I wasn't really seeing what was happening there.
I was too busy thinking about the passage he'd read from North and South , how it had been pointed and I'd ignored it.
If I'd told him I loved him sooner, would he have left Astoria?
I would never know.
"Granger?" present Draco said, breaking into my thoughts. "Can we… I think we could skip to the morning or whatever you wanted me to see next."
"Right," I replied, pressing my fingers into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I was—I got lost in my own thoughts."
With a wave of my hand, time sped up and then we found ourselves in a bed. The satin sheets were the colour of champagne.
"I don't want to go home," memory Hermione said, snuggling closer to memory Draco in the obscenely large bed. "I wish we could just stay here all day."
Sunlight poured through the gauzy drapes, reflecting off the snow that covered the grounds. I remembered that we'd woken early, savouring every possible minute that we had together.
"I wish we could, too," memory Draco replied, his hand stroking over her curls. "Next year, we'll be together. I promise, darling."
His words made me shiver and I looked over at present Draco. He and I both knew that this would be the only Christmas we'd ever share, so I wasn't surprised to see the frown on his face or the tension in his shoulders.
Memory Hermione didn't answer, and I knew it was because she didn't believe him.
"Granger?"
"Yeah?" she answered, her lips teasing the underside of his jaw.
"There are surprises for you at home," memory Draco stated. "I took the liberty of setting some things up."
"Draco—"
He cut her off with a kiss. "None of that. I was happy to do it since we couldn't have today together."
"But how? I didn't see anything when I went home yesterday."
"Magic," he quipped, and memory Hermione shot him a glare. "Listen, don't worry about it. Just enjoy all the presents."
"So not just books then?" she asked, her voice quiet.
Looking at her quizzically, memory Draco said, "Of course not."
"Okay. I—Thank you."
Present Draco spoke. "You don't like receiving books for Christmas, Granger? I thought that was a thing between us?"
I shook my head and paused the memory. "Not particularly. Everyone always seems to give them to me, and I do have other interests. And nothing says boring like a man buying his mistress only a book."
"I see," he answered. "But obviously you received at least one book."
"You already know some of the things you bought for me," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Right. Christmas shopping in Muggle London."
Nodding, I resumed the memory, skipping ahead to our goodbye in the entrance hall.
"Can I come over tomorrow?" memory Draco asked, his arms wrapped around memory Hermione's waist, embracing her.
Pecking his cheek, she said, "If you can get away, I'd love to see you. I don't have any plans."
"I'll find an excuse. I don't—I hate it when we're apart for more than a day."
"I should be home all day, but I understand if you can't," memory Hermione replied, even though she would be crushed if he didn't turn up.
Memory Draco leaned down and kissed her hard — possessively — and said, "I'll be there."
After pulling away, memory Hermione grabbed her overnight bag and headed into the Floo. The flames flashed green and carried her away.
When she landed in her house, there was an envelope propped up on the table. She immediately dropped her bag and hurried over, carefully tearing it open.
Happy Christmas, my love.
You know I'd do anything, give anything, to be spending today with you instead of sitting in the Manor with my parents and Astoria. It breaks my heart to think of you in our little house alone until you depart for Potter's. So, after you fell asleep last night, I popped home (and yes, our little house is my home) and hid a few things for you. Your task is to find them — without magic!
There are nine gifts in all, one for each month since the first time we were together. I know you said you didn't want me to overdo it, but I am who I am, Granger, and I won't apologise for that.
There is another note with each gift. Good luck, and I hope you know that I am missing you like crazy. I'll be counting the minutes until I'm back here with you.
I love you so much. More than anything. I always will.
DM
Her eyes filled with tears, and I remembered that I'd been shocked that he considered my house his home. Like everyone else in the world, I'd heard the phrase 'home is where the heart is' or that a person's home could be anywhere the person they loved was, but I'd never really understood it.
Present Draco and I watched as she examined the room around her, looking for his gifts.
"I see the otter and the dragon," he said, pointing to the mantle. "You put them back in the same place."
Shrugging, I replied, "They were always there before. It seemed fitting."
I could tell he was thinking, considering what my words could mean, even though I had said exactly what I meant.
They would always hold that special place.
"What else is down here?" he asked.
Memory Hermione walked to the bookshelf and reached into her cloak pocket, retrieving North and South and settling it onto a bookshelf. Present Draco moved closer, looking over her shoulder and being careful not to touch her, even though she wouldn't have felt anything.
" Anima ," he stated. "How long did it take you to find it?"
"Honestly? Hours," I answered with a sad smile. "I was nearly late for dinner at Harry's because I wouldn't give up."
We followed memory Hermione up the stairs and into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, the sheets still in disarray from two nights before. She looked down and noticed a sliver of red between the light blue sheets. Pulling them back, she found a bra and a pair of very tiny red lace knickers and grinned.
The note had been slipped through the adjustable part of the strap.
I've always hated the colour red, unless it was on you. From your Gryffindor uniform to lingerie to lipstick… It's always suited you.
"I see I stuck to a theme," Draco commented. "Red dress, red underwear…"
"But a diamond instead of a ruby."
Moving to her dresser, memory Hermione laid the lingerie down on the surface and started opening all the drawers. There was a book of poems wrapped in one of the shirts she'd stolen from him, complete with an inscription on the front cover, as always.
"I have the book on my shelf, so no need to worry about what it says now," I told Draco.
He just nodded and kept watching memory Hermione flit around the room. When she disappeared into the closet, we heard her squeal. A second later, she rushed out with the dress and the diamond necklace, tears in her eyes even though she was smiling.
Deep down, I remembered the conflicting feelings — the happiness laced with guilt — and I sighed aloud.
Draco looked over at me, a question in his eyes.
"It was just… I'd never had anyone do something like this for me," I explained, my words ineloquent. "And then I was happy and excited about it, but I also felt guilty because you were married. You should've been doing these things for her, not for me."
Shaking his head, he turned back to memory Hermione.
"Paris for Valentine's Day… Holy shit," she said aloud, clutching the note to her chest.
Carefully, she removed the necklace from the hanger, her fingers shaking as she unclasped the chain. Moving over to the mirror, she looped it around her neck, wishing Draco was there to do it for her, that he was standing behind her and she could watch his eyes as he looked at her wearing his gift in the mirror. Once it was secured, she leaned closer, pressing her fingers against the hair-fine chain.
She bit her lip as she examined it — examined her own reflection — and let the guilt and excitement ebb and flow through her like the tide. She could be happy and feel bad at the same time; they weren't mutually exclusive, and she'd known that for months.
Again, she opened a dresser drawer. She stripped off the v-neck jumper she'd been wearing, trading it for a turtleneck that concealed the diamond that would raise so many questions.
"Fuck," Draco hissed. "You're already hiding it away."
"I didn't have a choice."
Glancing over at me, he said, "I know, Granger. It just—It makes me feel like the world's biggest wanker, that's all. I give you something so extravagant and you can't even show it off." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's just not right."
I didn't have the heart to openly agree with him and make him feel worse.
Once the necklace was safely tucked away, memory Hermione looked at her bathroom door sceptically. With a shrug, she walked in and turned the lights on. On the counter, a new box of her favourite perfume was still wrapped in the cellophane, but she could see the note underneath it.
"Using magic to hide notes," she said to herself, shaking her head. "He's ridiculous."
But she tore the film open nonetheless, quickly unfolding the slip of paper and reading Draco's note.
"Do you have that one?" present Draco asked me.
"I have all of them. Any note you ever left me," I responded. "I separated these out so you could see them tonight."
Memory Hermione's cheeks flushed.
"There are nine gifts?"
I nodded.
"So far, we've seen the perfume, the necklace, the dress, the lingerie, the book of poems, Anima , the otter, the dragon…"
"Well, she hasn't really found the otter and the dragon or Anima yet, but the rest, yes," I explained. "She's going to rush back downstairs in a moment to look for the others."
And so we watched memory Hermione tear through her house, trying to find the remaining four gifts. The glass figurines jumped out at her fairly quickly, but she had to investigate her small wine rack to find the expensive bottle at champagne that he'd hidden. There had been a small tag tied around the bottle that said: For New Years. I can't wait to celebrate with you, right here at home.
I sped through the time it took her to find Anima .
When she finally did, Draco and I watched her eyes well with tears as she read his inscription.
"I was so overwhelmed by what you'd said, but I had to get over to Harry's house, and I had to push it all down," I told Draco. "And, honestly, as overwhelming as it was, I just didn't believe it was true."
"But that book also talks about Horcruxes, which you knew were real," he said, pointing out the flaw in my logic.
As he challenged me, I felt a fluttering in my belly. It was something I'd been missing — the challenge, the simple debate — and had never really found with anyone else. Blaise had been smart, yes, but we'd never really talked about a whole lot of intellectual things.
"Maybe I didn't want to believe it was real," I replied quietly. "Because, if it was real, then I'd be going on forever without my soulmate."
"But I was there with you," Draco stated. "I was telling you I loved you over and over again."
"You weren't always there, though. You had to go home to Astoria, and then I'd be alone."
I saw his throat bob as he swallowed hard, nearly choking on words he was holding back. I wondered what he wasn't saying — what he was keeping from me — and was about to ask.
And then the memory changed again.
"Where are we?" Draco asked, looking around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
Narrowing my eyes, I said, "Look at all the people in here."
He started to sneer. "Weasel King's family home, then."
"Not quite. We're at Grimmauld Place — Harry and Pansy's house," I corrected. "It may not be a Manor, but—"
"There's barely a square metre of free space in this… kitchen," Draco complained.
I watched as Molly bustled around, as a very pregnant Luna made her way through the crowd. Teddy and Victoire were running through the cramped space, playing with some sort of prank that George had given them, and Harry and Pansy sat off to the side with memory Hermione as she cradled James in her arms.
"He's really so perfect," memory Hermione said, stroking her hand over James' dark hair. "I just love him so much."
"He's my child, Granger. Of course he's perfect," Pansy replied haughtily. "Though he does take up a lot of time. I'm grateful that Molly was willing to take care of all the cooking today."
"She'd do this every year if you'd let her," Harry commented, but then his attention turned to memory Hermione. "You look different today."
"Different how?" she asked.
Pansy snorted. "Like you had seven orgasms and received a Christmas marriage proposal."
Memory Hermione leaned down to press a kiss to James' forehead, trying to hide her blush and avoid questions. "You know none of that happened."
"But you weren't home last night," Harry said. "I popped over to see if you wanted to come spend some time with James."
"I went to my old neighborhood," memory Hermione replied, thinking quickly. "It… It makes me feel a bit closer to Mum and Dad, you know?"
He nodded in reply. "I went to Godric's Hollow for an hour or so last night." Settling a hand on her shoulder, he added, "Next time, let me know when you're going. We can do all of that together."
She gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Harry. I didn't want to bother you. You guys have a new baby, and I know you're busy—"
Harry held up a hand. "Stop. I know things have been—"
"Oi! I want a turn with my godson," Ron said, smiling down at memory Hermione. "Hand him over."
She looked to Harry and gave him a nod, signalling that she knew what he was saying. And then she stood and passed James off to Ron. He settled into her seat, chatting with Harry and Pansy exuberantly.
Taking her place.
With a little wave, she started to walk away.
"Why didn't you stay there?" Draco asked.
"I couldn't," I replied. "Things were still very awkward between all of us. I couldn't listen to Harry trying to be my best friend when we'd barely interacted outside of work in a few years, and it was worse with Ron."
"Then why did you keep going?"
I took a deep breath. "Honestly, his family became my family. Even while we were at Hogwarts, I spent a lot of my holidays with Harry and the Weasleys. I'd already lost my parents; I didn't want to lose them, too."
As memory Hermione made her way through all the Weasleys, Molly caught her arm and pulled her into a hug.
"You look wonderful, Hermione!" she said in greeting. "How are things?"
"They're going well. I'm still at the DMLE obviously. Not much new to report."
"And are you dating anyone?" Molly asked with a coy grin. "I want more little ones running around, sooner rather than later!"
Memory Hermione momentarily floundered, simultaneously wanting to shout from the rooftops that she was in love and cower in shame over their situation.
"Mum, that's enough," Ginny interrupted, stepping forward to rescue her. "You've got plenty of little ones. Ask Harry to borrow James if you need a baby fix. I want to catch up with Hermione."
Memory Hermione looked at Ginny gratefully before greeting her with a hug. "When did you get here, Gin? I'm so happy to see you."
"I was upstairs talking to Andromeda," Ginny whispered, linking her arm through Hermione's. "She wanted to see you, actually. Let's get out of couple central."
Glancing around the room, memory Hermione's eyes misted. Harry and Pansy. Luna and Ron. Molly and Arthur. Bill and Fleur. Hell, even Teddy and Victoire seemed to have a little love affair going on.
"Yes, let's," memory Hermione replied, blinking away the tears. "Gods, I can't stand to see all the love in that room."
"It's sickening," Ginny agreed, though her eyes darted over to Harry and Pansy quickly and it was clear she was imagining herself in Pansy's place.
As memory Hermione and Ginny climbed the stairs, the noise and chatter fell away, giving them more silence to fill.
"He seems happy," Ginny said, her voice wavering. "I'll never get used to seeing him with Pansy, but I'm glad that he's happy."
"You could find someone, you know," memory Hermione replied, her voice hopeful. "I'm sure there are plenty of wizards who'd love to be with a famous witch like you."
"Or like you," Ginny shot back. "You're way more famous than I am."
"Not for anything fun, though."
Ginny laughed as they moved into the sitting room. Andromeda was there, Arthur beside her, and they were talking about Hogwarts.
"Hermione, it's good to see you," Andromeda greeted, rising to her feet as soon as she'd noticed her. "You're looking well."
It was reminiscent of what Pansy and Harry had said, and memory Hermione wondered if she really looked different today. Did Draco's attention change her that much?
Present Draco started examining her closely, likely trying to figure out why everyone was making a fuss over how she looked. I didn't stop him.
"Thank you," memory Hermione replied. "How have you been?"
"I've been doing well."
The conversation halted and Ginny broke the silence.
"Didn't you want to talk to Hermione, Andromeda?"
With a sigh, she nodded. "Can we speak privately?"
Memory Hermione looked puzzled, but she said, "Of course."
Ginny and Arthur exchanged a glance and left the room, closing the door behind them. The Black family tapestry still hung on the wall, even though it had been decades since anyone who cared about it had lived in the house. Present Draco watched as his aunt walked towards it, tracing the spot where she'd been blasted off.
Memory Hermione looked on, her nerves growing as Andromeda's fingers traced over to Narcissa's name, then to Lucius, then to Draco and Astoria.
"You know, there was a time where I thought I'd reconcile with Narcissa after the war — that she'd reach out to me and apologise for all the years of disownment," Andromeda began, her voice wistful. "But she never has."
"I'm sorry," memory Hermione said, not knowing what else was appropriate without being sure of where this conversation was going.
"I don't know if Lucius stops her, or if it's her pride, or if she just simply doesn't care. But that family — they hold so many secrets," she continued. "It's funny, though. These old tapestries show a lot more information than people think they do."
Memory Hermione's face flushed a telltale shade of pink, but she pretended to be clueless anyway. "What do you mean?"
"It's well-known that my father sought company elsewhere after my mother gave birth to three daughters," Andromeda explained, her fingers jumping up towards the thread that connected her parents. "My mother was a smart woman, though. She cursed him so he couldn't impregnate another witch after he'd fallen asleep one night." She beckoned memory Hermione closer. "Can you see this? The little gaps in the threading? Like it's been cut away?"
"I can."
Andromeda cut her fingertip open, allowing blood to trickle out. She pressed it to the tapestry in one of the gaps.
"My mother showed me how to do this. I'm not sure if it's all the family tapestries, or just the Black ones, but—" A name appeared in red, halting her speech. Viola Avery. "My father's mistress."
"Oh fuck," present Draco said, realising where this was going.
"I didn't think the tapestry would recognise me still, but it seems this one was never changed, other than to blast mine and Sirius' names off. Aunt Walburga was always a tad lazy and overdramatic," Andromeda continued. "And Orion was nearly always drunk."
Memory Hermione looked down at her feet, twisting her hands together.
"Please don't think I'm just being nosy. I saw you together, and I verified it today when no one was around. I wanted to tell you that you need to be careful," Andromeda said, pressing a finger to the gap in the thread that connected Draco and Astoria. "I don't know if Narcissa has the tapestry that was in my parents' house and I can't be sure how she'd react. If Lucius found out—"
My name appeared, bright red and clear as day, and I remembered how memory Hermione's insides twisted.
"He won't," memory Hermione stated, feeling sick that there were now at least two people who knew what she and Draco were up to behind closed doors. "I'm going to stop. It was only supposed to be one time."
Andromeda healed her fingertip and gave memory Hermione a sad look.
"Ted and I, we were only supposed to be one time. I wanted to be with him, but I didn't want to lose my family. I thought if I could just have that one memory to hold onto, I'd be able to go through with the marriage my parents had arranged for me…" She trailed off, lost in the past. Andromeda moved forwards, taking her hand and squeezing it. "But, Hermione, regardless of what your brain tells you, the heart wants what it wants. He wouldn't have made the decision to start something with you lightly. Even with Voldemort gone, a Muggleborn is still a Muggleborn to some of the old families. I'm glad to see he's let go of his father's ways."
"He's married," memory Hermione said, the words rushing out. "It's not real."
Pulling her into an embrace, Andromeda replied, "I think it's real. Give him a little more time to figure it out."
Draco looked over at me, and then we were thrown from the memory, finding ourselves back in my sitting room.
"Did you ever find out where she saw us? How she knew?"
I shook my head. "I didn't ask. But after that, I tried to keep us better hidden. We were here most of the time, anyway."
"Hannah knew, too," he stated. "Fuck, it's no wonder Astoria found out. We weren't very discreet."
I tangled my fingers in my hair, wanting to tug it out. He watched me carefully, and I could feel his concern.
"I'm fine," I told him. "I just… I need to think."
Draco looked away, his attention focusing on the notes that I'd set on the table. He picked them up and started reading, leafing through them one by one. Nothing he'd written came as a shock to him.
After setting them back on the table, he asked, "Do you—Should we talk about anything else tonight?"
"I don't think so. I don't think I really can."
"Granger, I'm—" he huffed and shoved his hands in his pockets "—sorry. But that doesn't seem adequate enough."
"You have nothing to apologise for. I knew what I was doing, Draco," I replied. "Yes, it hurt that your aunt called me out, but she was also understanding and kind. And Harry and Pansy — they were right, too. I was happy."
"But I wasn't there," he said, meeting my eyes. "We were in love, and I just left you — I didn't treat you properly. You or Astoria."
I swallowed hard. I hadn't expected him to understand so quickly.
"It's all in the past," I said quietly. "Just a memory at this point."
His chest expanded and deflated more rapidly, and I had to will my breathing to stay normal.
"Right. A memory," Draco repeated. "We're just watching memories."
"In just over a week, you'll have a lot you can watch on your own if you want to," I offered. "It'll probably be easier when I'm not there with you anymore."
He didn't say anything.
Feeling awkward, I gathered up the notes and turned to put them away, adding them to the stack and tying them together with the red ribbon that had been wrapped around the bottle of champagne we'd seen in the earlier memory.
"I'll see you on Monday, then?" he asked.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "What about tomorrow?"
At his silence, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Tomorrow?" he asked eventually.
"I'm sorry — that was presumptuous of me. I'm sure that you want to spend time with Scorpius or your family—"
"Granger, it's fine," he interrupted. "I can come tomorrow. I just wasn't expecting you to want to increase the frequency."
Thinking quickly, I tried to find a plausible reason. I couldn't, so I just said, "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow evening."
After a moment, he repeated, "Yes. Tomorrow."
He headed for the fireplace, his footsteps heavy.
Just as I spun to ask him if he wanted to try dinner again, he vanished in green flames, and I felt the heavy weight of his absence.