Sunday passed in a jumbled blur.
The healers attending to his mother—despite hours of observation and dozens of tests—were no closer to determining what was wrong. Draco had spent the majority of the day in the St Mungo's waiting room in exchange for a few brief visits wherein Narcissa was hardly coherent. Her remaining strength had waned, her countenance frail, to the point where she had taken on the appearance of some thin, weak woman who simply looked like his mother.
He was a wreck.
Potter had sent numerous messages through to Draco's Auror badge, and Draco had ignored them all. Theo had sat with him for a while, but Draco had nothing to offer, and by dinner time, his friend ventured back home.
He hated the way the healers looked at him as they walked past, pity in their eyes at the defeat weighing heavily on his shoulders. He'd scarcely eaten and spent the day sipping the bitter coffee from the hospital canteen.
When he arrived back home at the end of the day, spent of energy and emotionally depleted, Draco dragged himself into the shower and allowed the scalding water to pour down on him until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
A small, niggling curiosity had hung in the back of his mind all day, through everything else, and before he retired for the night, he checked the phone in his sitting room.
He had received a message―and after considerable cursing at the stupid thing, he navigated to it. It was from 2:43 that afternoon; Draco glanced at his watch. Nearly eight hours earlier. Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the message.
Hi Draco. I'm glad to hear from you. I'm so sorry to hear about your mother, and I hope you're doing alright. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Take care.
He felt as though someone had tightened a vise around his heart. Tight, shallow breaths chased from his lungs as he read and reread the message until his eyes blurred from the small rectangular text on the pale yellow screen.
Even without her memories—and living out some alternate Muggle existence—she was still Hermione Granger at her core essence. Or as well as he could tell, having never been close to her in school. But even he knew she had a heart of gold and was always willing to look out for others.
His stomach rolled, nausea threatening the meagre contents he'd managed to eat that day.
Clenching the phone tightly in his fist, he squeezed his eyes shut.
As he set the phone back on the table, all at once, the emotion of the weekend swept over him like a tidal wave, crashing down upon him with a great, powerful roar. Adrenaline raced with the furious speed of his pulse, creating a dull buzz behind his ears, and moisture spiked at the corners of his eyes.
Burying his face in his hands, he attempted to catch his breath. His heart raced, mouth going dry, and for the first time since he had heard about his mother, the genuine realisation settled over him that he might lose her.
Tears broke, tracking down his cheeks, and Draco wrenched at his hair with a frantic hand. A ragged sob choked from his lips.
The storm brewing in his mind was too powerful, too all-encompassing, and he sank deeper into the sofa.
He didn't know what to make of anyone caring about his well-being, because he sure as hell didn't deserve it. He never possibly could. Which would be made abundantly clear tomorrow, when he would give up everything to do with Hermione Granger.
And his life would go back to the way it had been before the warmth of her smile had crept into his world.
Only now, his world felt as though it had turned over, and he didn't know anything anymore.
As silent tears tracked down his cheeks, Draco cocooned himself in a blanket, and at last, a sort of anguished fatigue took him in sleep.
On Monday morning, Draco sucked in a long, deep breath and returned to life.
He looked paler than usual in the mirror, a dullness to his messy hair, and he ignored the way his eyes were faintly rimmed with pink. Although he'd slept the night before, he didn't feel any more rested than he had the previous day. He had allowed himself one night to dwell on his grief and anguish; now, he had to pick himself up and carry on.
Organising the information he'd gathered on Granger's case, he tucked it all carefully into a file and inside his satchel. If nothing else, his knowledge had allowed him to begin the investigation on her existence anew. And he could only hope Potter wouldn't strangle him for keeping the truth from him these past weeks.
Only a slight tremble shook his hands as he knotted his tie, smoothing the silk as he tucked a piece of hair back in place.
While a part of him wanted to stop by the hospital before he was due at work to check on his mother, Healer Brooks had assured him that they would update Draco of any changes in his mother's condition―for better or worse.
Although no further messages had come through from Granger, he tucked the mobile phone into a pocket in his bag.
With a long, steadying breath, he Apparated to the Ministry.
In the Atrium, he awaited a lift with a crowd from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes in their recognisable robes. Draco felt a strange disconnect from the rest of them as he offered a stiff nod.
His heart began to beat in his throat as the lift shuddered into motion from level eight.
If nothing else, at least he wouldn't have to worry about the matter any longer.
Between levels five and six, a small ping went off in Draco's bag, jolting straight through his heart. The other occupants paid him no mind, and Draco forced a thick swallow. He debated simply ignoring it, but there was only one person who could have possibly contacted him.
Affecting nonchalance, Draco shifted his body towards the wall and pulled the mobile from his bag. He opened the message, and for several long moments, he simply stared at the small block of text encompassing the screen.
Hi Draco. I've been thinking a lot about you and your mother, and I hope she has a fast recovery. This might sound strange, but I just wanted to thank you for coming to my class on Saturday. Sometimes London seems so large, and it's easy to feel as though I'm alone here. I appreciate the reminder that I'm not. I hope you have a nice day.
His eyes fixated, unblinking, on the words for so long he nearly missed his stop.
By the time he exited the lift on level eight and ventured into the DMLE, Draco's mind swam with indecision.
Maybe he could simply tell Potter and maintain contact with her. He doubted that would be the case. And already, he'd begun to feel a certain protectiveness over her. On a deeper level, curiosity―and most certainly, interest. More interest than was proper, he was sure.
Caught in a mental fog, Draco crossed the department towards the bank of cubicles where the training Aurors kept desks, and he settled in at his workspace to begin on some paperwork. Active enough to keep his brain occupied but not so tenuous that it would require his full focus.
None of the other training Aurors in the bank were at their desks that morning, which wasn't unusual given the wide array of tasks they could be working on. But the silence where there was often a dull hum niggled at Draco's brain.
After only fifteen minutes, Potter strode over.
"What are you doing here?" Folding his arms, he fixed Draco with a stern look. "Did you read any of my messages yesterday?"
Draco lifted his brows. "No."
Potter's expression softened. "You didn't need to come in today. Robards approved it―if you need to be at St Mungo's."
"What I need," Draco clipped, tapping the end of his quill on the desk, "is to be somewhere other than St Mungo's. I'm going spare with worry, and I need something else to distract my attention."
"Fair." Potter hummed, glancing around at Draco's bare workspace. "But if you change your mind, it's alright. We can train this afternoon, if you like."
"Sure. Thanks, Potter." Although Draco turned back towards his paperwork, he set his quill down after another minute when Potter still lingered. "Did you need something else?"
Staring hard at the opposite wall, Potter shrugged. "I was just curious. What's Nott's deal?"
Draco stared at his desk for a moment, brow furrowing with confusion. Then comprehension dawned, and he snickered. "Are you asking after my best mate, Potter?"
With a sort of strange, nonchalant gesture, Potter's gaze drifted to the ceiling, and he perched on the corner of Draco's desk. "Maybe. Is that weird after everything growing up? I only thought—we're all adults now and everything."
Gaping at him, Draco drawled, "I didn't even know you were―"
"Bisexual?" Potter interrupted, giving an idle shrug. "It isn't exactly public knowledge, but it's not the Prophet's business who I date, is it?"
Despite himself, Draco snorted. "It certainly is not." He eyed Potter for a moment, and a vague recollection fluttered around the back of his mind. Theo and Potter had kept up a steady flow of conversation all day on Saturday while the three of them had been at St Mungo's, only Draco had been too caught up in his own thoughts to pay them any mind. "And at any rate, Theo is gay." A smirk tugged at his lips. "And single."
Not that he wanted Potter around even more―but he supposed the bloke wasn't so bad.
And Draco didn't have any room to talk, the way he'd been pining after Granger.
The thought reminded him of his intent to pass the investigation into her situation over to Potter. At the present moment, Draco didn't care to make Potter angry so early in the day, and especially not if they would be training that afternoon.
"Maybe I'll send him an owl." Potter's eyes flitted towards him. "Do you think?"
"Theo loves birds. I'm sure he'd be delighted."
A scoff of exasperation fell from his lips. "I'm being serious. But maybe I deserved that. Merlin, I suppose it would be like if you wanted to date―" He thinned his lips with a grimace. "Never mind."
A breath hung, suspended, in Draco's chest.
He wanted to pry―he wanted to ask Potter why he had allowed Granger's case to go cold. To dig up every last parcel of information he could possibly find on her. Maybe he and Potter could resolve the matter together.
But even if the two of them had reached an amicable place with one another, the same wasn't true between himself and Granger. The only reason she had even looked at him twice was because she didn't remember the way he had once treated her.
Which made the situation feel that much worse.
Quietly, he mused, "Theo hasn't said anything about it to me, but I don't see the harm in asking him for a drink."
Potter flashed him a grin, clapped Draco on the shoulder, and rose from the edge of the desk. "Great. Thanks, Malfoy. See you this afternoon."
"Right," Draco muttered, shaking his head as the man walked away.
Although Draco had never felt the slightest affiliation to Gryffindor house, he couldn't help but wonder what it must feel like. To be brave and reckless enough to see someone that caught his interest and simply go after them without overthinking himself into a corner the way he had done with Granger.
Again, his mind drifted to the folder of research in his bag.
Slowly, as he returned to the reports on his desk, his thoughts slid adjacent to the message she had sent him that morning. If Potter was interested in Theo, he couldn't very well be mad at Draco for going after Granger.
Except the situation wasn't remotely similar.
Most notably, Theo knew who and where he was―most of the time.
Maybe if Draco could simply jar her memory, he wouldn't have to confess that he'd known her whereabouts for weeks and have his head chewed off.
Awareness sat, thick and rancorous within him. The longer he delayed and justified, the worse it would become. And he would pass the case off.
He just might need to give the situation a little more consideration.
On Tuesday evening, Draco went to the tea shop in Muggle London.
After two long, difficult days, the healers at St Mungo's were no closer to determining the case of his mother's sudden and debilitating illness. Whether out of genuine interest, or because he simply didn't want to leave Draco to struggle alone, Potter had stayed late at the Ministry both days, pushing Draco through his paces with some of the department's more intense battle simulations.
Draco had failed miserably each time.
But the solidarity in Potter's company meant more to him than he knew how to express. The man didn't owe him anything, and Draco appreciated that he'd stuck around.
After a long, hot shower, he left the Ministry and wound up outside the shop where Granger worked.
When the chime above the door rang, Draco cast a quick glance around. The young girl from the first time he had visited worked the counter, and Draco offered a thin smile. "Raspberry herbal, please. To go." As he slipped a paper note onto the counter, he gave the place another quick sweep. "Is Melody working tonight?"
"First Tuesday of the month," the girl said in her thick dialect. The words didn't mean anything to Draco, and it must have shown on his face, because she huffed an irritated sigh. "Mel had appointments today."
A frown pulled at his lips. "Is she alright?"
"Yeah." The girl slid a tall paper cup across the counter towards him. "So far's I know." Her mouth spread into a wide grin. "I'll let'er know you came by."
"Sure. Thanks." Swiping his cup, Draco made for the door again.
He tried to remember being that age, but when he had been sixteen, he'd been trapped by the wiles of a madman under threat to his parents' lives. The last thing that had concerned him was gossip.
A chill began to lift into the air as the sky darkened, but Draco wasn't in a rush to go home. He sipped his tea, sliding his other hand into his pocket as he paced the street. On the next road down, a nightclub bustled with activity, people shouting to one another as a loud, impatient beat sounded from the music system inside.
Draco carried on towards a small park tucked back from the street and settled onto a bench.
The bright, fruity tea kept him warm from the encroaching night air.
Idly, he wondered what sort of appointments Granger had on the first Tuesday of the month, and whether it had anything to do with her condition. He pulled the mobile phone from his bag, skimming through the two messages he had received from her, and his attention lingered on the second, as it always did.
Draco knew all too well how it felt to be alone.
After the emotional strain of the last few days, he had only wanted to see the secretive warmth of her smile again. He took a long sip of tea, staring at the message.
He set his tea on the bench beside him and tapped a message into the phone.
The tea doesn't taste as good when you don't make it.
Glancing at his watch, he settled deeper into the bench and allowed his eyelids to flutter shut. He hadn't slept well since his mother went to the hospital, and the peaceful quiet of the park was soothing.
It was already nearing ten o'clock, and he didn't expect her to respond. But he tried to picture the light in her eyes.
Draco knew he was in too deep, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't met someone who captured his interest, so fast and so entirely, his whole life.
Just his luck, it happened to be Hermione-bloody-Granger.
The phone in his hand vibrated, startling him, but a soft smile curled his lips as he opened the message.
I'm not surprised. Sorry I missed you, though. How are you doing?
He released a long breath, gazing at the deepening cobalt of the sky. It was rare to find a moment of peace in the heart of London, and he considered his response for a moment.
Okay, thanks for asking. No news yet either way. Are you alright?
Granger had likely assumed he'd been told the reason she wasn't at work that day, although Draco didn't care to pry. But if she was willing to talk about the situation, he might be able to learn more.
Almost fifteen minutes passed by the time she responded, and Draco wondered if he had offended her. Briefly, he debated dialling her mobile number to talk but didn't know if she was busy. Or maybe she simply didn't care to.
At last, the phone buzzed again.
Yes―a few routine appointments. Nothing to worry about.
Although relief swept through him, he wondered whether it was a touchy subject and she didn't care to talk about it. Maybe the appointments had nothing to do with her memory, and it was something else entirely.
His tea was nearly empty, and the chill had crept into the air in earnest. Fatigue began to tug at his eyes as he tapped another message into the keys, feeling as though he was beginning to get the hang of it despite the arduous task of using numbers to convey letters.
Glad to hear it.
As he stared at the outgoing message, Draco's heart jumped into his throat. He thought of Potter's forwardness that morning, and speculated as to whether the man had already owled Theo for a date. Draco wondered if he would hear about it from Theo tomorrow.
He knew he ought to walk away. That all of this would only end poorly, in potentially more ways than one. But he so badly wanted to know her.
Sucking in a deep breath, he typed another message, ignoring the slight shake in his hands and the roar of adrenaline behind his ears.
Do you want to get a drink sometime?
He stared at the screen for several minutes, his breaths falling shallow and fingers tense around the phone. Finally, he jumped to his feet and shoved the phone into his pocket. He finished the dregs of his tea, tossed the empty cup into a nearby bin, and paced the short distance back to the main road.
Slipping between two buildings, Draco Apparated home to his flat. Still, she hadn't sent him a return message.
Realistically, it would make the whole matter easier if she simply didn't respond. Obviously, if she wasn't interested in him, he wouldn't need to worry about whether or not he ruined his shot with her. It would make things a little awkward if she was able to have her memory magically restored, but hopefully that would pass in time.
Draco prepared for sleep, stifling a wide yawn. He debated leaving the phone on the sitting room table but carried it into the bedroom instead.
He stared at the stupid thing for several minutes longer, before finally resigning himself to the fact that she either wasn't going to respond tonight, or maybe not at all.
Blowing out a breath, Draco Noxed the lights and settled into bed.
The phone rattled against his nightstand with a buzz. Draco grappled for it in the dark, peering at the small lit face.
I'd like that. I work tomorrow and Thursday until half eight.
A slow grin spread across his face, lifting into his cheeks, and for the first time in days, Draco felt the heady warmth of anticipation. Surely he would regret this. But he couldn't bring himself to that point tonight.
He typed into the phone, Tomorrow sounds great.
Then he succumbed to the eager pull of sleep.
Author's Note: Hey everyone, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter - I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything.
Alpha and beta hugs to Kyonomiko and FaeOrabel.