You know, I gotta say, I was expecting more of a reaction to that last chapter. Maybe I'm biased, but I figured the first kiss chapter was going to be a hit! I hope you all liked it and weren't too let down about the obliviate :|
But I will not give up! I will keep writing and hope that something I do strikes a chord with you all!
Love,
Cherry
Hermione sat in front of her fireplace, fidgeting with her fingers as the flames danced before her. She pushed a curl behind her ear in an attempt to polish her appearance, her hands flying to the papers in front of her as the hearth whooshed alive.
"Miss Granger, I assume?" An unfamiliar face asked, though Hermione had been expecting the call.
"Yes. Mister Saito?" She asked, shuffling her papers to organize them.
"Yes. It is nice to meet you."
"You as well." Hermione smiled tightly. "I appreciate you finding time to meet with me. Especially at such a late time." Jun Saito had offered only meeting times near midnight due to his busy schedule, so Hermione sat in her flat to speak with him in the early afternoon.
"It is my pleasure. I am happy to meet an associate of Mister Malfoy's." He smiled politely and bobbed his head. "Especially one with such a unique interest."
Hermione looked down at her notes. "I'm finding that it's more and more unique than I ever thought." Hermione responded. "But you've been so very helpful in my research."
"I am glad I am able to be of service. May I ask what it is you're researching?"
"I'm looking to use it in a potion." Hermione tried to stay relatively vague. "Which, I imagine, you deduced from the requests Draco sent you. But I know it's a very fickle plant so I'd like to meet some of the people you know who are able to grow it."
"I know of four." Jun explained. "Only two of which can speak English. Do you speak Japanese?"
"I'm afraid not." Hermione srunched her nose. "I've been translating the materials you sent, but don't have enough of a grasp of the language to communicate with a fluent speaker, and I'm not particularly fond of using a translator, due to the unique research."
"Understandable." Jun said. "Well as I said, there are the two, then. Both in Okinawa, one in Nago and the other in Naha. I visit them quarterly. I notice your letter requested we meet in July."
"If you can." Hermione noted. "My research is halted until I can find time to work with Witch's Ganglion in person, so the sooner the better." And I've already requested that time off from work, Hermione thought to herself.
"I can make it work, it is only a month early. Perhaps the first Monday of July?"
"That works for me." Hermione marked the date on the calendar before her. "Should I meet you in Okinawa?"
"The international portkey point is Tokyo." Jun explained. "I will meet you at the International Portkey Point and we can Floo to Okinawa together."
"That sounds lovely." Hermione wrote everything down, making note to request a portkey for her travels. "I'll send you another owl when I get the exact time of arrival. Thank you for doing this, Mister Saito." Hermione thanked the wizard, whose eyes crinkled when he smiled.
"Anything for Mister Malfoy. Mister Watanabe, the man who works with Mister Malfoy and connected us, has explained that he has been a key player in helping us introduce Nabe Skincare to the United Kingdom."
"I'm sure he has." Hermione smiled fondly, proud for Draco to have built this connection without his father's assistance. He had never seemed all that ambitious at Hogwarts, but Hermione had come to learn that he was passionate about building something of his own, and that he was already on his way, based on this man's retelling.
"Thank you again for your time." Hermione spoke to Jun. "I'll be in touch soon."
"I am looking forward to hearing from you." Jun quickly bowed his head and the fire returned to its normal appearance, leaving Hermione with plans to make.
As it was Thursday, Hermione had used her lunch break to meet with Jun, so she made a list of tasks to complete when she got home from work before Flooing back to the hospital to finish her shift.
On Saturday, Hermione prepared herself to visit Draco, holding a bag filled with his mother's clothes she'd borrowed, and a single piece of parchment that recounted the night's events, as based on Hermione's memory. She was disappointed she didn't remember more, but hoped that he did and that anything she had written was supplementary to the core knowledge Draco would share.
She Flooed to the Manor in the early afternoon, Draco meeting her like he always did.
"Afternoon." He greeted with a bob of his head.
"Afternoon." Hermione responded, though something about the exchange felt off. She couldn't place what it was, but that small part of her that wanted Draco had decidedly grown since their last encounter, so she chalked the uneasy feeling up to the part of her mind that suggested greeting him with a very long hug.
Something seemed off for Draco, too, but Hermione pushed past it.
"I have your mother's clothing." Hermione held the bag out. "I didn't know exactly how to launder it, so I just used magic, apologies if something further was needed."
"Keep it, please." Draco put a hand out to stop Hermione from handing him the bag.
"I couldn't possibly, Draco, the skirt alone is more expensive than anything I own."
"Then you definitely need to keep it." Draco smirked at Hermione's surprised expression, she clearly hadn't expected the quip. "Besides, it looks better on you than it does hanging in a wardrobe." Though it wasn't really a compliment, since most clothing looked better on a body than a hanger, Hermione still blushed.
"Then I'll leave it here, and if Mimmy or Thrump has come to collect it by the time I leave, I won't say anything." She smiled and set the bag on the ground next to the ornate couch facing the fireplace. The pair left the drawing room and walked side by side, muscle memory leading them to Draco's study.
"Have you eaten?" Draco asked, his desire to take care of Hermione nearly overwhelming. He couldn't quite understand why, but between their last encounter and this, he was fighting harder than ever to tamp down his feelings for her. Feelings. He mentally scoffed. How could what he felt simply be feelings?
"I did, Luna and I met for lunch. Now that I'm set to go to Japan in July, I figured I owed her a thank you meal for turning me onto the possibility of Witch's Ganglion satisfying my needs." Hermione gushed, excited to share all of her news, though it was hardly the focus of the day's meeting. "I'll have to owe her a thousand meals if it really works."
Draco listened patiently, pleased that Hermione was pleased. He called for tea while she described her discussion with Jun Saito that she had had previously that week, smirking when she scrunched her nose as she recounted his interest in her project.
"And don't think I haven't forgotten about you." Hermione pointed a finger at Draco as she made herself at home in one of the chairs in his study.
"Me?" Draco asked dumbly.
"Yes, you! You put me in contact with Jun Saito, I could have never made this happen without your assistance. You're due three meals, one for every person you reached out to for me. Maybe I should tack on an extra meal for every farmer Saito introduces me to." Hermione smiled warmly, feeling rather ingenious for coming up with more excuses to spend time with Draco. Though with how quickly they were becoming friends, she wondered when she'd stop searching for reasons and just spend time with him because she enjoyed his company.
"Then I'll have to find good restaurants for you to take me to for these meals." Draco took the tray from Thrump, pouring two cups of tea. "Something expensive, perhaps?" Draco teased, and Hermione laughed, accepting the tea cup from him.
"I wouldn't be too greedy if I were you, I did save you from certain death." She watched him as she took a drink.
"Then I owe you many many meals." Draco bargained.
"Then I'llbe looking for some fancy restaurants for us to try." She grinned, plucking the parchment from her pocket. "But in the meantime, I do have to say, I'm not sure I'll be owed those meals, I can't remember very much from our trip last weekend." She handed the paper to Draco and he read it silently, taking the other open seat.
"I remembered someone named Augustin." Draco spoke, still looking at the paper. "You wrote down Turnbull, but those together don't sound at all as I remember it. Or as much as I remember it."
"S...Something." Hermione supplied, staring concentratedly into the fire. "The French name, it was Augustin Something. And I said I would ask Fleur about it." Hermione knit her brow. "But I can't remember what he looked like. Or who Turnbull was." She looked at Draco, wholly confused. "Why is that?"
"I don't remember drinking that much." Draco commented. "At least not enough to have us both not remember anything."
"So then we've had legilimency used on us." Hermione's stomach turned sour at the thought. "The whole evening is a bit of a blur, what else could it be?"
"Then there's two things to consider." Draco said. "We found out something that someone didn't want us to know, and it's either Savatier or Turnbull."
"Or it's someone else." Hermione posed. "Who's to say we didn't meet a third person, and they're the one who did this?"
Draco stared at her, eyebrows low over his grey eyes. "Thrump!" He beckoned, making Hermione jump. The house-elf appeared with a crack.
"Master Draco called for Thrump?" Thrump asked, wringing his hands.
"What do you know of reversing the effects of legilimency?" Draco asked, and Hermione watched Thrump's ears flatten to his head.
"Thrump does not have much experience with legilimency." He grimaced, clearly disappointed in himself. Hermione found herself waiting for the self-beating to begin, but it was clear by the look cast between house-elf and master that Draco was trying to unteach that behavior. Thrump put his knobby hands to his sides and tried to help. "Thrump knows of no reversal of legilimency, but knows that great occlumens have overcome the effects. Master Draco is a great occlumen." Thrump quickly flapped his ears in praise of Draco. "If anyone could reverse the effects, it would be Master Draco."
"Thank you, Thrump." Draco commented with a sigh, waving the house-elf away. Thrump looked nearly heartbroken, so Hermione interjected before Thrump could leave.
"That is helpful for us to know." She spoke, and Thrump eyed her warily. "I was under the impression that only weak legilimens could be broken, and good occlumens wouldn't be susceptible to that type of legilimency. I'm glad you think Draco can be of help to our situation." She smiled reassuringly at Thrump, who didn't deign her with a response before leaving, though his shoulders did look a little squarer than they were when Draco dismissed him.
"You're so harsh on him." Hermione chided, and Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "He's trying his very best. There's no known reversal of legilimency, at least he gave us something, Mister Good Occlumens." The title made Draco roll his eyes.
"Clearly not good enough." He muttered. "Snape would be rolling in his grave if he knew I'd let someone perform legilimency on me."
"He trained Harry, you know." Hermione picked up her tea and took another drink. "Who was very very terrible at it."
"Was he?" Draco got an impish smirk on his face, making no effort to hide it. "Isn't that just so delicious."
Something funny niggled at Hermione's chest when he said "delicious," but she made an effort to hide it behind her tea cup.
"If you ever tell him I said that." Hermione warned, and Draco laughed. She liked the sound of it.
"When am I ever going to tell Potter that I know his little occlumency secret? The next time we get our hair cut together?"
Hermione half smiled, knowing Draco was right, though it disappointed her. "Who's to say you won't become best friends? Isn't that what you wanted when you first met him anyway?"
"I wanted allies." Draco corrected. "That and my father knew he would be in my class, so he heavily intimated that I needed to befriend him."
"And what did he do when you came home, only to say that the Boy Who Lived had taken up friendships with a Weasley and a mudblood?"
Draco winced at how casually Hermione used the word. She noticed, and was glad, because it was the appropriate reaction to the slur, but also felt guilty, because he clearly regretted that period of his life and had grown so much since. But she made a point of using the term when it was what she meant, even if it made her forearm itch when she did.
"He wasn't thrilled in the least. Mostly because I came in second to a Weasley."
Hermione snorted, rather ungracefully, into her tea. "Is that like a lifelong feud or something?" She asked. "Weasleys versus Malfoys?"
"Well, they're blood traitors." Draco said sarcastically. "But I guess I am now, too. You might have noticed that the portraits in the hall are nearly completely devoid of subjects."
"I hadn't." Hermione responded, suddenly realizing that she hadn't felt watched the last few times she strode through the manor.
"They're holed up in different rooms." Draco smiled. "There's different camps. One room is willing to accept the help of a Muggle-born, another room thinks you couldn't possibly help because you're a Muggle-born, then there's a room, up on the third floor, that hasn't spoken to me in months because I haven't at least tried to murder you, as if that would do this family any good, the Manor and Malfoy Investments would go be seized if I weren't here."
"Are there any rooms that aren't anti-me?" Hermione mused, knowing as negative as it sounded, it was somewhat funny to imagine a bunch of old portraits trying to convince Draco to put a hit out on her.
"There's one that's actually quite pro-you." Draco noted. "It's, erm, headed by a portrait of my mother, who is quite fond of the way you spoke for us in the end."
Hermione knew by Draco's tone that it was the portrait she had met; the one more alive than any other. She wondered if Draco still spoke to it like Narcissa had mentioned.
"Is she much like your mother? Her portrait?" Hermione asked.
"She is and she isn't." Draco explained. "My mother was quite temperamental in her later years. Following all that had happened with the Dark Lord and her stint in Azkaban, my mother was angry at the world and everyone in it. But in her last year or so, she was much more like the woman I grew up knowing as mum. She was kinder, and more understanding of what we had control over, and her fear and hatred went practically dormant. It was around the time she commissioned the paintings, actually. A friend had recommended it to her, and she got these portraits of the three of us made, and she seemed to hit a turning point, then, back to what I'd always known her as."
"Who was the friend?" Hermione asked, wondering who could have such a profound effect on such an unsettled woman.
"Some wizard." Draco shrugged. "Father suspected an affair, Merlin knows why he would care about this one when they had both had their share. I don't think it was that, though." His eyes unfocussed as he spoke. "It had been so long since either was happy that I don't think he recognised it."
Hermione made a face. She couldn't imagine knowing someone for so many years and not really knowing them. She could read Ron or Harry like a book. She almost felt there with Draco after these months, so to not recognise your wife's happiness? How long had it really been since she was last happy?
"But they really loved each other, yes?" Hermione asked. "Through all the turmoil, the affairs, the allegiance to a madman that nearly killed their son?"
Draco quirked his lip at the last comment. "They did. I'm not sure the love they demonstrated was a normal, healthy love, but it was most certainly love."
"You mentioned there were paintings, plural. Of your parents and you." Hermione commented. "Have you ever thought of putting your father's painting with your mother's?" When Draco's face darkened, Hermione continued. "Oh come now, you said they loved each other."
"My Father also loved the Dark Lord, do you want me to hang his portrait too?"
"You have a portrait of Voldemort?" Hermione asked in all seriousness. Draco made a face that indicated it was a joke. "But I still think you should hang your father with your mother. It would make her happy, wouldn't it?" She posed, recognising the way Draco was softening to her suggestion. "Do it for me. As a thank you to your mother for taking my side." She hoped she didn't sound like she knew too much. Narcissa had told her the paintings were imbued with a dark magic that restricted the inhabitants from moving between frames, but Draco was still unaware of the conversation the two had had.
"Maybe." Draco conceded, and Hermione knew that without further prodding, by tomorrow morning, that would mean yes. "But he doesn't deserve it." He grumbled. "The paintings went live after their passing, and the first thing my father said to me was 'brilliant, Draco, you even managed to muck up your own murder.'"
Hermione snorted, which put her on the receiving end of an astonished glare. "Sorry." She apologised. "The Lucius I knew was cruel and driven, but he clearly had his moments."
"His moments of what, verbal abuse?" Draco sputtered, wondering where Hermione was going with this.
"No." She laughed again and reached a hand out to pat Draco's briefly. "Moments of sounding like you. He was being sarcastic." She spelled it out, knowing Draco had been on the receiving end of so much barbarous behavior by his father that he couldn't widen his view to understand when he wasn't being serious. Had Draco been the right audience for Lucius' quip? No, and he certainly shouldn't have led with a joke, but Hermione hoped she could help Draco see what she did.
"That is singularly the bloody worst excuse I've ever heard." Draco muttered. "Sarcasm. Really? That's your defence?"
"Defence of Lucius?" Hermione almost chuckled. "I would never defend Lucius when I don't know the full story, but I think you're too close to the situation to see it as it really is: a dead man making poor jokes because there's nothing else he can do. It's not as if he can punish you for staying alive, can he? All he has are words now." Hermione leaned over and gently pinched Draco's forearm. "Words that mean nothing if you let them."
At that, Draco made a face, clearly considering what Hermione had said. His father had no power over him anymore. He couldn't force Draco to stop seeing Hermione. He couldn't crucio him for changing the family company without permission. Any power Lucius held over Draco still was on Draco to let go of.
"Huh." Draco hadn't thought of it like that. "I suppose you're right. Not about the sounding like me part, but the part about him only having words now."
"But you do sound like him. On occasion." She corrected when she received a stern look. "Your father wasn't all bad. Mostly, sure, but I wouldn't have stood at his trial and spoke on his behalf if I believed him completely immoral. And those are the moments I see you two sharing. The ones where someone could take offence to a remark if they didn't know you well enough."
It was so strange, Hermione decided, how soft the look was in Draco's eyes. As though it were a softness for her, and not just any person he knew. There was something there, wasn't there? Something familiar, and unspoken, but felt as if it had been uttered between eager lips.
"Then to prove how different I am from him, I'll hang his portrait with my mother's." Draco said. "That will convince the world how different I am from him, won't it?"
"It's a start." Hermione replied softly, her train of thought derailed. "Now, let's start looking for ways to jog your memory." She slapped her knees and stood up, knowing she did her best thinking when she walked around.
The two worked for several hours, trying to find ways to get either to remember what they had been forced to forget, and while it didn't feel all that successful, Draco had managed to remember the Frenchman's surname: Savatier. Though they couldn't recall what he looked like, Hermione wrote down the name and borrowed Draco's owl to send the note to Fleur, hoping to get a response as soon as possible.
With a yawn, Hermione bid Draco a good night, and when he walked her to the Floo, he reminded her to take the bag of his mother's clothes with her, which Hermione hesitated on before thanking him and disappearing into the green flames.
Draco nearly choked on a sigh when he remembered that part of the clothing Hermione had borrowed was a lacy, black suspender belt, and tried not to reveal his thoughts when Mimmy questioned him on why his ears were so red. She had her suspicions, of course, but neither the house-elf or wizard noticed Thrump's wary gaze as he served his master dinner.
If they had been paying attention, they would have known he knew something no one else did.
"I wish you were here." She whispered. "I wish you could see this, I wish you could see me. I haven't felt this alive in ages. And you're the one who has brought me such joy. "