Author's Note: Hi everyone,
I know I normally leave notes for the end, but I'm putting it at the start so you all see it. I'm going to switch to biweekly updates during April while I (hopefully) finish writing the remaining chapters of this story.
Updates will be as follows:
Chapter 54 on 4/17
Chapter 55 on 5/1
When chapter 55 posts, I will let you know what future updates will be like. I'm hoping to return to weekly, but it depends on how much I finish during Camp NaNo this month.
From the second I'd arrived at work, I'd been plagued with thoughts of Granger.
All day.
I knew it was wrong to be fixated on her while the mother of my child was in the hospital undergoing tests to determine exactly how much longer she would live without a counter-curse. While I didn't love Astoria and I was still angry with her, I didn't want her to die. I didn't want to have to explain to Scorpius that his mum wouldn't be around anymore. In fact, the very thought of having that conversation made me feel sick to my stomach, even if he was too young to truly understand.
But, rather than contemplating the worst-case scenarios, I was thinking about how I'd felt when I held Hermione's arms in my hands, the way her magic seemed to seep through the cardigan she'd wrapped herself in and into my skin. I'd felt a warmth that was more than just the friction between my palms and her sleeves. As I mentally replayed the way she'd looked up at me, I could almost believe that she'd wanted me to kiss her.
Fuck, I'd wanted to kiss her. She'd been biting down on her lip, drawing my eyes to her mouth, and I wanted to remember what it felt like to have all of her focus on me, to tangle my hands in her hair and hold her in place, to give her no escape.
It was a dangerous daydream, especially when I'd be alone with her tonight, no Astoria or Scorpius waiting for me at home. That would be a first since this whole fiasco started, and I hated the way my brain realised that.
Even though I knew I shouldn't, I felt excited to have no time limit. If things were going well, I'd be able to spend hours talking to her, going through memories, or maybe even holding her—
I shook my head, trying to clear it before I wasted the whole day thinking about the possibilities.
Being cooped up within the walls of the DMLE certainly wasn't helping me focus, but I had no reason to go out into the field unless something major happened or I found a lead on my case. So far, there had been nothing worthwhile to look into.
So I read the file, took notes, went over my notes, trying to see if I picked up on something different from the last time.
Nothing.
And then my mind went back to Granger.
Fuck.
At four in the afternoon, I received an owl from St Mungo's. Thinking that something had already gone horribly wrong, I opened the missive quickly, preparing myself to head to the hospital instead of to Granger's house. I could only imagine how angry she'd be with me for cancelling on her a second night in a row.
Dear Mr Malfoy,
We're writing to let you know that Astoria's tests all went well. We're going to keep her overnight for observation as planned. Please come by tomorrow morning and we can discuss our findings.
She's sleeping soundly right now, so we don't want anything to disturb her.
Regards,
Healer Padma Patil
Relieved, I let out a breath and slowly re-read the letter. I found myself wondering if Astoria had told the healers that we were separated or divorcing. If they were owling me, it didn't seem likely.
Would it be like this the whole time she was ill?
Would I be the one responsible for her care?
Was I the best person to make decisions for her?
I wasn't sure. Obviously Scorpius wasn't old enough, but I couldn't imagine that Astoria would feel comfortable with an ex-husband making choices for her if it came down to it.
But her parents, while kind, hadn't always been the most involved and I knew she hated to worry them and Daphne would hover and drive her crazy.
That left me, especially since I had to consider our son and what would be best for him.
My thoughts were starting to spiral out of control so I stood and stretched, feeling like I'd done as much as I possibly could on the case today. I'd read through my notes more than once and summarised my thoughts and feelings.
When I reached the Atrium, I checked my watch and realised it was far too early to go to Granger's house. Considering my options quickly, I Floo'd home. Every time I'd been to her place, she'd been dressed casually, so I decided to change.
Robotically, I walked up the stairs and into the bedroom that I used to share with Astoria. Since I hadn't yet cleaned all my things out of the closet, this seemed like as good a time as any to start. For a moment, I considered calling an elf to help with the task but decided against it.
One by one, I pulled hangers from the rail in our closet, hooking them onto my hand as efficiently as possible. When I couldn't hold any more, I moved down the hallway to the bedroom I'd claimed as my own. In the end, I'd had to make five trips, but it hadn't taken much time.
I summoned the items from my chest of drawers and directed them into the bureau in this bedroom. As soon as that was done, I rifled through the older clothing that I hadn't worn in years. There were simple t-shirts — the kind my father would never let me wear as a teenager — and soft jumpers. Most of the colours were my standard greys, blues, and greens, and as I ran my fingers over them, I remembered Granger's words from the Christmas memory.
"I really don't think red is the best colour for you. It makes you look slightly demonic."
Against my will, I smiled at the thought and charmed one of the t-shirts red, wondering if she'd say the same thing tonight. Unbuttoning my Oxford, I slipped it off and banished it to the laundry, along with the trousers I'd worn that day.
Before dressing, I stared at myself in the mirror and tried to figure out when the dynamic between Granger and I had started shifting. I'd been so fucking angry with her since I'd found out, but somewhere along the way, that rage had started to dissipate. More often than not, I got angry with myself now. I'd treated both of the women in my life horribly.
Through watching these scenes, I'd learned that I didn't like my past self at all, regardless of whether he'd been trying to divorce Astoria or not. I couldn't even believe how self-centred I'd been; both Astoria and Hermione deserved better than what I'd given them.
She'd been right — the memories weren't easy to live with.
But, at the same time, my past self's actions didn't make theirs right. We had all victimised each other, and my father... Well, I still wasn't sure what I felt towards him at this point.
I took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. Looking down at the red shirt in my hands, I muttered, "What the fuck am I doing? I shouldn't be trying to get her to flirt with me."
And that's what I was doing — I wanted her attention, the way I always had.
It was wrong. After everything we'd put each other through — and I was sure I didn't even know the half of it yet — the last thing we should be doing was flirting. Her mantra from the beginning of this journey replayed in my mind... All we do is hurt each other .
I swallowed hard. From what I'd seen so far, there was pain and pleasure and jealousy and love. It all swirled together into one big, toxic mess, and I didn't know how to sort it all out.
I didn't know if it could ever be fixed.
Decision made, I said, " Finite Incantatem ."
The shirt shifted back to a basic black and I pulled it on over my head, tugging at the hem until it fully covered my torso. Moving to the closet, I selected a pair of dark jeans that I likely hadn't worn in years.
Once I was fully dressed, I looked at my watch again and saw that time was moving by at a fucking flobberworm's pace. Unable to stay still, I went down to the Floo and rang the Manor, wanting to check on Scorpius before I headed to Granger's.
A house-elf answered my call and Apparated away to find one of my parents. Much to my chagrin, Lucius stepped up to the grate and crouched down. He was smiling, and that felt out of place to me.
"Draco, are you still at the Ministry?"
"No, I finished up early and decided to come home for a bit. How is Scorpius?"
Again, he smiled. "He's doing well. We've kept him busy all day, mostly out in the garden."
"Do you need me to come by before I head over to Granger's?"
He shook his head. "I assure you, we're perfectly capable of looking after our grandson. Have you heard anything from the healers?"
"Just that the tests went as they expected. I have to go there tomorrow morning to meet with them," I replied, trying not to show my father my worry.
"You're going to Ms Granger's house for six?"
"Yes, that's the plan," I replied. "Why?"
"No reason. I just don't want to hold you up if you're due to see her."
The silence stretched between us for a few moments and I could feel the tension in the air.
"Well, thank you for looking after Scorp. I appreciate it."
"It's not a hardship by any means," he stated. "We've missed having him around."
Unsure of what else to say, I decided to bid him goodnight. "Well, you know where I am if you need to reach me. I'll be back here by nine, most likely."
He waved his hand. "Not to worry, Draco. If we need you, we'll send Cherie. She can always find you."
"Right, well, see you tomorrow evening," I responded awkwardly.
"Enjoy your night."
If I wasn't mistaken, he'd nearly smirked at me, and I wondered what assumptions he was making.
When I got to Granger's house, she wasn't visible in the main living area, but I could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, and whatever she was cooking smelled delicious. I moved in that direction and we nearly collided when she came bustling out.
"Hey," she said, looking up at me and smiling, completely at odds with the weeping witch of this morning. "How was your day?"
Her warm greeting nearly stopped my heart.
"It was fine," I answered, taking a step back from her. "Were you coming out here to greet me, or—"
"I was. Were you coming to find me?"
"I was."
It felt so fucking awkward, but then she smiled and turned, gesturing for me to follow her. Moving into her kitchen, I stood in the doorway and watched as she checked on something in the oven.
She bent over right in front of me, and I suddenly felt the July heat combining with the heat from the oven. I made myself look anywhere but at her arse in the denim shorts she was wearing. They showed more leg than anything I'd seen her in thus far, and I couldn't allow myself the tiniest glance.
And I definitely couldn't touch.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said, closing the oven and standing up straight again. "Sorry it's so hot in here. Cooling charms are usually too much for me. I end up wrapping myself in blankets."
"It's fine. I can cast one over myself if I need it." After a beat of silence, I asked, "What did you do today?"
"I went into town and bought some food, read a bit, went to therapy."
When I struggled to find something to say, Granger laughed at my discomfort. "Penelope wants to see me more than once a week right now, and she's going out of town on Thursday, so I had a second appointment today. It went well."
Nodding, I said, "That's good. I'm glad that you're seeing her."
"Me too. I think I would've had a much harder time with Blaise leaving if I hadn't already gone back into treatment," she replied, making eye contact with me. "Before you even found out about the Obliviation, I'd spoken to her about Blaise and certain... parallels between you."
That caught my attention.
"Parallels?"
"You were a lot alike in some ways."
I gestured for her to continue.
"Well, he basically kept me a secret from his friends and family—"
"You were splashed all over Witch Weekly and the Prophet . I hardly think he kept you a secret, Granger."
She bit her lip. "Well, I suppose you're right on that count. But he never introduced me to anyone but Sara, and he had been fucking her for years, so..."
"The Hufflepuff, right? Loves to cook?"
"You know her?" she asked, curious.
"Well, yeah. She'd been around for years by the time Astoria and I got married," I answered. "He took her to functions all the time, and I know it eventually turned into more."
"How do you know that?"
"Blaise and I spent a lot of time together up until…"
My voice trailed off.
Frowning, Granger crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't understand. How did I never notice her before?"
"Were you actively spending time with Blaise? Looking at him?"
"Well, no," she admitted. "But I felt so fucking blindsided, and I really shouldn't have been. She was with him at your stag party, for Godric's sake."
"Don't beat yourself up. I'm not being rude when I say this, but Sara isn't exactly the kind of woman that stands out in a crowd. When Blaise started sleeping with her, I was surprised."
"Why? She's pretty enough."
"She is, but think of the other women you've seen Blaise with over the years." I wanted to tell her to think about herself, but the words wouldn't come out. "They definitely stood out more than Sara."
With a sigh, she turned back to the oven. "I still feel like an idiot. He introduced me like we'd never met before, and we must've at one point or another."
I laughed. "Granger, you're probably the last person in the world that I would call an idiot."
Again, she bent down and I looked away. When I heard her set the tray down on the stovetop, my eyes moved to the food.
"Homemade pizza," she said with a smile. "It looks really good, too."
I didn't disagree. And with the way she was relaxed and smiling, she looked even better. I hadn't seen her like this very often.
"This is something we used to do almost every week," she explained a bit wistfully. "Usually, you'd be able to get away on either Monday or Tuesday, and we'd just make a simple meal and spend time here."
"Why haven't you showed me any of that?"
Using her wand, she transferred the pizza to a cutting board and reached for a cutting tool.
"Well, those aren't really big moments. They were just normal."
I wanted to tell her that those days would've been important to me — the simple ones that I'd never experienced with anyone else — but I couldn't. I'd see them when she gave me all my memories back.
"Anyway, I just planned for tonight to be sort of how it used to be," she said, adding servings to plates. "I know you won't have any exact memories, but maybe it'll jog something for you."
"That would be nice. Shall we eat?"
"Grab the wine from the counter," Granger instructed before moving back out into the main area of the house.
After picking up the bottle and glasses, I followed her.
The meal passed quickly. We were able to talk without arguing, which was a nice change. Something had definitely shifted between us and it felt more like we were old friends catching up than Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, ex-lovers with a Hogwarts trunk full of bad memories between them.
We were both more at ease now, and I hoped it stayed this way.
I talked about Scorpius and she responded with stories about Potters' kids. The way she lit up when talking about her godchildren made me remember how she'd been with Scorpius and Severus at Fortescue's.
She was a natural.
However, when it came time to break out the Pensieve, she seemed to grow a little wary. I could tell she was hesitating.
"What are we seeing tonight? I can feel your nerves from my side of the table."
"Well, I thought — and tell me if this is a bad idea — we could see the night Scorpius was conceived from your perspective." She looked up at me, clearly anxious. "I obviously wasn't there, and I didn't want to see it, so I just removed it. I still don't want to watch it but—"
"Granger, I think that's the best way," I interrupted her rambling words, sitting up straight and trying to gain some modicum of control over the situation. "Honestly, I think we both need to know what really happened that night."
Running a hand through her curls and pulling them back from her face, she nodded.
"But I don't know how I'll react to it," she added quietly. "I just, I've doubted you for so long, and I want to move past all of this. I spoke to Penelope and this was her suggestion, to confront it head on so I know if you're being truthful or not."
"She knows our whole history?" I asked, feeling my face flush. I wasn't embarrassed about our relationship, but I couldn't imagine that any mind healer would find the situation we were in healthy.
Would she encourage Hermione to cut off all contact with me when we were through with the memories? To move somewhere else and start over?
I just didn't know.
Again, she nodded, the movement drawing my attention. "I'm sorry, but there was no way to get the help I needed without being honest."
"I'm glad you were."
It was the truth; I didn't want her to struggle more just to protect my privacy.
Granger stood and started pacing. "But, like I said, I don't know how this will go. It's not something that I've seen, and I'm nervous about it."
That much was clear.
"Would it be easier if I watched it on my own?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't really want to go it alone, but I could see how this would negatively affect her.
Pausing, she looked over at me. "No. I need to understand, Draco. I need to see"—she sighed dramatically—"I need to know what happened."
I reached for the memory trunk and summoned the vial labelled First Anniversary.
The moment was so heavy and I could tell she was still feeling ambivalent about watching this particular scene, so I tried to lighten the mood.
"Alright then," I said, holding it up. "Let's find out how I managed to fuck this all up."
She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her lips, and I smiled at her encouragingly.
When we fell into the memory, we landed in my house. Memory Draco was just stepping through the Floo and Astoria was sitting at the dining table. She looked like she'd been there awhile and was angry about it.
It brought me back to when I'd arrived home late after my first day at work.
"Where the hell have you been?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "You said we had reservations for six. It's ten past."
Memory Draco looked at his watch. "I'm sorry, Astoria. I was finishing something up with Blaise and lost track of time."
"It's our anniversary." There were tears in her eyes. "For Salazar's sake, Draco, it's like you don't even realise I'm here."
"I'm sorry. Let me change. We can still make it to dinner."
She didn't respond, and he turned to run up the stairs. Present Granger and I were dragged along with him and ended up in the bedroom. Memory Draco shifted things around in the closet, searching for something to wear.
"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," he said, pushing his fringe back from his face before quickly removing his shirt.
I could see in his eyes that he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to take her to dinner, pretend that all was well, and put on an act for all of the wizarding world and his family.
Before pulling on the clean shirt and waistcoat he'd selected, he looked himself over. There were half-moon indents in his shoulders, likely from memory Granger, and he grimaced as he healed them with his wand. He had clearly been late because he'd been shagging her.
As he got ready, I could see the mask he donned. He had to play the doting pureblood husband tonight, to make everyone believe that Mr and Mrs Draco Malfoy were happy, that arranged marriages sometimes resulted in love. Honestly, I remembered feeling the same way more than once after the Obliviation, so I could relate.
When he strode back downstairs, he looked at Astoria and smiled.
"You look beautiful," he told her
And it was true — she did. Her long blonde hair hung in perfectly straight curtains around her face and her blue eyes sparkled.
With a smile, she replied, "Thank you. It's nice to see you in proper robes for once."
Memory Draco forced a laugh and gestured to the fireplace. "Shall we? I daresay we can still get our table."
Astoria stepped into the Floo ahead of him, and before I realised it, we were in the middle of a swanky restaurant in central London. I had no doubt it was expensive and hidden away. The waiters were levitating trays rather than carrying them, so it was clear this was a wizarding establishment.
It was painful to watch the memory of our 'date'. While we drank champagne and smiled, the happiness wasn't natural. It was forced and fake, a clear charade. The conversation was stilted and, like the arsehole he was, memory Draco kept looking at his watch. Astoria noticed, too. I saw her expression shifting throughout the night, moving from angry to resigned to determined.
His behaviour had pushed her into using the fertility potion, that much was obvious.
"I'd hurt her so much," I said aloud, the silence around us becoming too heavy to bear. "And if it was like this between us, why did I stay?"
Present Hermione looked over at me, but she didn't say anything. I could tell she wanted to — the words were on the tip of her tongue — but she held them back.
Finally, after a few more torturous seconds, she said, "I honestly don't know. Not at this point."
Swallowing hard, I waved my hand and sped up the nearly silent date, only slowing things down when they rose from the table.
As soon as memory Draco and Astoria arrived home, they both climbed the stairs and ended up in their bedroom. He started taking off his robes and loosening his tie.
Batting her eyelashes, Astoria reached out and stilled his hands. "Wait for me. I got you a gift, but I want you to open it here."
"That wasn't necessary, Astoria."
She smiled brightly. "Just wait here. Don't get undressed or anything."
And then she disappeared into the en suite bathroom, her heels clicking against the marble tile. Memory Draco looked down at his watch again and sighed.
"You were supposed to come over to my house," present Granger offered, looking over at me. "I think it's about half past nine now, and you were supposed to be there by nine."
I nodded, unsure of what to say. I couldn't apologise for memory Draco's actions. Not yet, anyway.
On top of that, I was disgusted that I'd split my time between the two, taking my wife to dinner and then going to shag my… I didn't want to call her a mistress; it was clear that she'd been so much more than that to me. I'd loved her in a way I hadn't ever loved anyone else in.
But I hadn't done the right thing and proved that to her.
A split second later, Astoria came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a white lingerie set that reminded me of wedding attire, her pale skin flushing. Memory Draco's eyes widened, but they didn't travel down her body; they stayed fixed on her face.
As she moved closer, she said, "I want you to come to bed with me, Draco. I need you."
He tried to step back, but Astoria grabbed his tie.
"Astoria, I—"
Glaring, she interrupted him. "No. You are not going back to work tonight. You're not leaving me alone on our anniversary night. Go owl Potter and tell him to get off his arse, Draco. Or Blaise. Or anyone but you. We haven't had sex in over six months."
"It hasn't been that long," he replied. "There's no way—"
Astoria held onto him, her eyes hard. "August. My birthday. That was the last time, and you left before the weekend was over."
When I glanced to the side, I saw Granger had pressed a hand to her trembling lips. This confirmed that memory Draco hadn't been lying to her; he'd only slept with Astoria this once.
Her walls started to crumble.
Looking like all the blood had left his body, memory Draco said, "I really… I can't—"
"You can. And you will. I don't deserve to come second," Astoria stated, her confidence growing as she wore him down. "As a matter of fact, I have every intention of coming first tonight."
His disinterest was written all over his face, but he eventually nodded, succumbing to her wants. He was weak. So fucking weak.
And I hated him for being that way. He was just giving in, giving up because he was too afraid to tell her that he didn't want to be with her.
Over and over, he'd told — I'd told — memory Hermione that he was in love with her, that she was the only one, but he was still holding onto Astoria, and I couldn't understand why.
"I didn't realise it had been so long. I'm so sorry, Astoria. I just need to send an owl," he said quietly, both guilt and remorse filling his eyes. "I'll be right back, and we'll have the whole night together. I've… missed you."
Gods, I'd been a right prick. It was clear that I'd been lying to her and she'd known it too.
Present Granger and I followed memory Draco down the stairs and out onto an enclosed patio. Nimue — the eagle owl I'd had all through Hogwarts and up until earlier this year — was perched on the railing, waiting for a job.
Quickly, memory Draco grabbed a parchment scroll and started writing, his script hurried and messy. I moved closer, looking over his shoulder.
I'm so sorry. I can't get away tonight. I'll make it up to you this weekend. I promise. Please don't hate me. DM x
Present Granger's arms were wrapped tightly around her waist and she wasn't saying anything. I couldn't really blame her; this wasn't exactly a happy memory for either of us. I was blowing her off and she was likely at home, upset that I was spending the night with my wife.
As memory Draco tied the scroll around the owl's leg, he said, "Nimue, take this to Hermione. If she's upset and wants you to stay, stay with her."
His large eyes blinked an affirmative response and he took off into the darkness, heading for Granger's little house. Memory Draco's fingers were carding through his hair, making a complete mess of it. I could see how this was affecting him. He was just as upset as memory Granger likely was, and when he started muttering to himself, I tried to make out what he was saying. I could only catch snippets — a few words here and there — but his composure crumbled, brick by brick.
He didn't want to sleep with Astoria, but he was going to do it anyway because he'd never worked up the courage to just end things.
With a groan of frustration, he made his way back into the house and up the stairs, pausing outside the bedroom door and sliding a mask back into place. After a moment, he crossed the threshold and saw Astoria on the bed, reclining against the pillows. She hadn't covered up and I looked at her — really looked at her — and saw how much healthier she'd been back then. Her skin was a warmer tone and her hair was golden and lustrous. She wasn't as thin as she was now.
Turning to present Granger, I saw she was watching me as I looked Astoria over.
"She's changed a lot. She's lost a lot of weight and her hair and skin are different," I explained, trying to show that I wasn't just getting ready for another round of Pensieve porn.
She shrugged. "I'm a lot different too. I think we all are."
Memory Draco moved closer and Astoria knelt on the edge of the bed, her hands reaching out and working his tie loose. She looked into his eyes and smiled.
"I'm glad you stayed," she whispered, pressing her lips against his jaw. "I know how dedicated you are to your job, but it's nice that we can have tonight together."
His eyes squeezed shut when he knew she couldn't see him, and I could only imagine what he was thinking about. It seemed like it was anything but sex, though.
"Me too," he responded half-heartedly. "I'm sorry I haven't been around more."
"It's okay. You're here now, and that's good enough for me."
Present Granger watched as Astoria stripped memory Draco's shirt from his shoulders and ran her palms all over his chest, up and down his back, before circling around and landing on his belt buckle. Memory Draco stroked her hair away from her face with one hand, and the other rested on her waist. It seemed so intimate, but because I'd seen him with memory Granger, I knew this was nothing at all. There was no heat, no passion, and he hadn't even kissed her once.
"Relax," Astoria said, her fingers working at the button and zip. "I know it's been awhile, but it's going to be so good. I promise."
I saw his Adam's apple bob, his breathing accelerate, as her hand wrapped around his shaft. She looked crestfallen but then determination crossed her face, and I wondered how he'd missed it in the moment. She stroked and squeezed him until he was hard and then reached for his hand, bringing it to her breast.
"Draco, I can't watch this," present Granger said, breaking through the awkward fumbling. "I can't watch you with her. I'm sorry."
And then my mind started to race.
She was jealous, even though she'd known what was coming.
"Okay," I told her, turning to face her entirely. "I understand. I'm not going to force you to. I don't particularly care to see the main event, either."
She looked away from the edge of the bed, determined to avoid seeing memory Draco and Astoria together. "You said you wanted to."
"I know, but I more or less wanted to see what had happened in the lead up to the sex," I replied. "It's exactly like Astoria told me. She made me feel guilty because it had been months, and—"
"I'm sorry," she said, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm so, so sorry."
"What? Why?"
Behind present Granger, I saw my past self kissing Astoria's neck, my hands roaming over her body.
I wasn't kissing her on the mouth. At all. In fact, I was ducking and weaving, avoiding it whenever possible.
"Because I didn't believe you," Granger answered, her arms wrapping around her own waist protectively. "I didn't believe you when you said you weren't sleeping with her. Not then, and not when you told me this time around—"
"Why would you?" I asked, surprising myself. I'd been angry with her for so long and had continuously thrown things in her face. "Honestly, I never gave you any real proof that I was trying to divorce her, and I got her pregnant."
My eyes jumped up to the scene playing out behind her again, and I saw Astoria climbing on top of memory Draco. She was doing all the work, and he just seemed to be along for the ride, putting in minimal effort.
It was nothing like the sex between memory Hermione and memory Draco.
"Can we move to the next part of the memory?" I asked before she could give me an answer. "I can't—I was such an arsehole."
She glanced over her shoulder, morbidly curious. Her head snapped back quickly, though.
"Yes," she said, the word heavy. "Yes, let's move on."
With a wave of her hand, it was the next morning, and memory Draco silently slipped from the bed he shared with Astoria. His face was distraught, and he left the room, taking us with him. I could see the panic in his expression and, even now, my heart was hammering against my chest. When he looked in the bathroom mirror, there were clear traces of lipstick dried on his skin, but his eyes landed on the scratch marks on his shoulders. Astoria's fingernails had sunk into him, replacing the marks he'd vanished before dressing for dinner the previous night. Again, he healed the skin, but it was clear that he was in emotional pain.
Without a second glance, he stepped into the shower and scrubbed away all the evidence Astoria had left on his skin.
Present Granger sniffled, drawing my attention. There were tears streaming down her face again and I wanted to reach for her, but then I remembered her no skin-to-skin rule. With what she was wearing, I couldn't touch her.
"Hermione," I said, drawing her attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have slept with her. I can't even understand it myself—"
"No, it's not that! I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I—Everything I believed was a lie. You were hurting so much. I can see that now."
I scoffed. "I brought that on myself. I should've left long before it got to this point, or after Valentine's Day at the very least."
"But I didn't trust you," present Hermione said quietly. "I loved you, and I just waved off everything you said when we found out Astoria was pregnant.
"We didn't talk like we should've," I told her, taking a step towards her. Memory Draco was still showering, and I had nothing to watch. Her face, her reactions to this situation, seemed like the best possible thing to observe at the moment. "You didn't know I was trying to get a divorce because I didn't tell you."
"But you did!" she shouted, her emotions getting the better of her. "Not in those exact words, but you told me to give you time and I just—"
Memory Draco stepped out of the shower, and present Granger's eyes moved over his body. When I looked at myself, I saw that I was nearly the same. I'd definitely gotten back into shape while training for the Auror re-entrance exams.
"It doesn't matter," she stated, but before I could answer, we were pulled from the bathroom and down to the kitchen.
Memory Draco was moving quickly, practically running towards the Floo. He glanced at his watch and debated for a moment. Changing directions, he went outside and vanished with a crack. When we rematerialised, we were standing outside a little house and I could only assume it was Granger's. He stared at it, looking towards the front door. Running a hand through his fringe, he took a deep breath and knocked.
It swung open, revealing memory Granger. Her eyes were puffy and she shoved a copy of the morning's Prophet into his hands before slamming the door in his face and locking it.
Memory Draco looked down at the paper and I moved closer, too.
There was a large picture of memory Draco and Astoria at dinner, looking at each other and smiling. Right below it, there was another of them sharing a chaste kiss for the camera.
"Fuck," memory Draco groaned, raising his hand to knock on the door again.
As soon as his knuckles came in contact with it, he hissed in pain and pulled back.
"Granger — Hermione — open the door," he said, raising his voice. "Please, let me explain."
"I'm right on the other side of it," present Granger told me, giving me insight into the scene playing out in front of us.
"Hermione, please," he pleaded, his hand thumping against the wall beside the door. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
She didn't respond or open the door.
"I need to talk to you. Please—"
A pulse of magic made him stumble backwards, giving him his answer. With a frustrated growl, he turned and strode away, eventually Disapparating and throwing us back into Granger's house. As soon as we landed, though, I got the same dizzy feeling I'd experienced before. I felt my knees hit the floor, heard present Granger say my name in a panicked tone, but then I was remembering.
I was standing in an office, my hand clasped with another man's while someone else sealed an Unbreakable Vow. I recognised the spell; I'd seen it performed by Voldemort plenty of times during the war as an insurance policy. When the final tendrils of magic sank into our skin, I looked up, meeting the man's eyes.
"What's this all about?" the man asked. "What could the reformed Malfoy heir need that requires an Unbreakable Vow of secrecy?"
"I need to find a way out of my marriage," I replied, putting on every ounce of pureblood arrogance he could. "And my father cannot hear about it until I know there's a way to do it."
The man — who I recognised as my father's solicitor — raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I saw a photo of you and your wife in the paper just this morning," he began, shifting uncomfortably. "You've been married a year, yes?"
I nodded. "Yes. One year, and that's quite enough."
"You looked very happy," he replied.
"Well, appearances aren't everything," I stated. "I know my father, and that contract is likely iron-clad, but I need you to look at it and find a way. Do you have a copy?"
The solicitor sighed. "I do. Obviously I have no choice but to look, but have you brought this to anyone else?"
Shaking my head, I said, "I haven't yet. I want as few people involved as possible since no one in my family knows."
"Can you tell me why you're so intent on divorcing after only one year?"
"I'm in love with someone else," I replied honestly. "And it's not fair to keep leading Astoria along like I have been."
"Have you told your father—"
"No," I interrupted. "And I'm not going to. My father would never understand—"
"So she's not pureblood?"
"I don't think you need to know her blood status."
The solicitor held up his hands. "I mean no offense, Mr. Malfoy. I just can't see another reason why you'd think your father wouldn't let you break the contract."
"Just, please, find something." I rose from my seat, my jaw tight. "I don't want things to get any messier than they need to."
"I'll do what I can. It's not like I have a choice," the solicitor muttered. "But I do think you should speak to Lucius. I've never seen a man more besotted with his wife than your father is. Surely he'd understand—"
"He wouldn't," I said darkly, turning and stalking towards the door. "Just trust me on that."
As the memory ended, I felt tingles of magic against my arms. Little ones — nothing like the jolt I'd felt when Hermione had laced her fingers through mine in her office when teaching me the photo enhancement charm — but I knew she was touching me through my shirt. When I opened my eyes, I saw the concern on her face. I started to lift my arms and she shook her head.
"Relax, Draco," she said, her palms rubbing my upper arms, mimicking what I'd done to her earlier this morning. "Just relax."
Swallowing hard, I nodded. "I think I went to the solicitor right after I left your house."
"What?" she asked, her surprise evident.
"You saw how I was the morning after I slept with Astoria," I replied, my voice weaker than usual. "I was a wreck. And then you wouldn't talk to me, and I'm sure—"
"That makes sense," she sighed, her chest finally letting go of the breath she'd been holding onto since I opened my eyes. "But why would it take him until November to figure it out?"
"I don't know. I think I only remembered that bit because it was connected to what we just watched."
Her teeth sank into her lip and I could tell she was thinking, trying to figure out how else she could prompt me to remember something. Her hands were still on me, and my eyes dropped to her mouth. The tension from this morning was returning in full force. While she was distracted, I reached out and settled a hand on her waist, over the thin material of her t-shirt and she jumped.
"Draco, we can't—"
"I know, Hermione. I'm not trying to start anything. I just—this helps."
Even though she looked conflicted, she didn't pull away, and my thumb stroked over her ribs.
"You switched," she murmured, and I was confused for a moment.
"What?" I asked, looking to her for clarification.
"You switched. You've been calling me Hermione tonight. Well, a few times, anyway."
Fuck. I hadn't meant to. I really hadn't meant to, and she'd noticed before I had.
"Is that okay?"
She shrugged. "I suppose so."
The line between us was blurring with each new piece of information that was revealed. Blaise and Astoria were both gone, for lack of a better word, and I could feel that invisible force trying to bring us together again. We were both unattached, but there was so much I still didn't know. While I wasn't angry with her anymore, I certainly hadn't forgiven her.
Not entirely, anyway.
"We should stand up," I said, and her hands dropped from my arms.
I slowly released her waist and she grabbed the chair beside her, using it to pull herself up. I did the same, careful not to touch her.
"Do you want to see more?" she asked, surprising me once again. "Even if you don't, I know there's something I need to look over."
Intrigued, I asked, "What?"
"Blaise," she said quietly. "The morning after your anniversary, I called him. I asked him to come over before I went into the office."
Hearing my former best friend's name was like a punch to the gut.
"Do you want me there?"
She pressed her fingers into her temples and massaged. "I've been watching most of the memories with him on my own. I just wanted to see your take on it."
"I think you know what my take on it is already," I said, meeting her eyes.
"If you don't want to—"
"No. I'll do it. I'll come along, but I still believe what I told you at the beginning of all this. He wanted you for himself, and he encouraged you to stay away from me. We saw it in the Valentine's memory."
Reluctantly, she held her wand to her temple, pulling the silver strands from her mind. When she dropped them into the Pensieve, she said, "I think you're right, but I didn't see it at the time. It just felt like he was being a good friend to me."
When her fingers skimmed the surface, she was pulled away. I followed and saw memory Hermione sitting at the dining table we'd just left behind, dark circles under her puffy eyes. The same Prophet she'd shoved at memory Draco was sitting on the table in front of her and she watched the images of past Draco and Astoria. There was hurt radiating from every single inch of her and the hastily scribbled note from the night before lay discarded on the table.
The room was eerily silent until something triggered her wards. Memory Draco's arrival. She froze and stared out the window, her eyes fixed on the figure that was coming closer and closer to the house. Memory Granger was shaking, trembling with either anger or anxiety, I couldn't be entirely sure.
The knock prompted her to move, to stand and grab the Prophet.
She wiped at her eyes and stomped over to the door. When she swung it open, the scene we'd seen in my memory replayed. But, from this side, when she slammed and locked the door, I could see that she leaned against it and let herself cry again.
At the knock and hiss of pain, she curled in on herself, sinking to the floor and hugging her knees to her chest.
"Granger — Hermione — open the door. Please, let me explain."
"No," memory Granger said to herself. "No, no, no. I can't."
We heard memory Draco's fist hitting the wall beside the door, and her sobs intensified.
"Hermione, please. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." There was a short pause, and then he started speaking again. "I need to talk to you. Please—"
"No!" she yelled, the pulse of magic pouring out of her and pushing memory Draco back from the house.
Once she was certain he had gone, she stumbled to her feet and looked out the window, squeezing her eyes shut after a moment. Somehow, seeing this memory from her perspective hurt worse than seeing it from my own.
Eventually, she made her way to the Floo and fell to her knees, grasping the powder in her hand.
"I didn't know who to call," present Hermione said, her voice breaking through the stifled sobs. "Harry and Ron didn't know, and they wouldn't have understood anyway."
"So you decided on Blaise?" I asked, my voice sounding bitter even to my own ears.
She nodded.
"And how did you have his address?"
"He gave it to me and said to call him if I ever needed to talk," she stated, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "And he was the only one who would understand why I was like this."
I swallowed hard and watched as she called him and he stepped through her Floo moments later, finding her on the floor.
"Oh, Hermione," Blaise began, his voice soothing as he leaned down to help her up. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tesoro."
Memory Hermione cried harder at the nickname, and I looked over to present Granger. There were tears in her eyes yet again, and she was watching their interaction carefully, scrutinising every touch and word they shared.
Blaise pulled her to her feet and into his arms, pressing her head against his chest as she sobbed . "Shhhh. It's going to be okay. I'm here. I'll help you."
Memory Granger hugged him back and I felt jealousy surge inside of me, even though Blaise wasn't a threat now.
Even though I knew nothing was going to happen between present Granger and me.
His hands were stroking over her curls and up and down her back, holding her the way memory Draco should've been. Blaise was expertly working his way under her skin, into her heart, and I could see their beginning playing out in front of me. Even if memory Granger and memory Draco were still together, he was planning for the future and playing the long game.
He would wait. He knew it was only a matter of time until the situation exploded, and he was willing to pick up all her broken pieces.
"Blaise, did you see?" she sobbed. "I know I have no right—"
His hands cupped her cheeks and pulled her head back so she was looking into his eyes. "You do have a right, Hermione. You have a right to want more for yourself."
I saw his sincerity and I knew he was right — she had deserved more than what I'd given her.
How had it taken me almost a year to go to the solicitor?
"I hate her, and I shouldn't," memory Hermione said. "I shouldn't hate her. She's done nothing wrong, but I want to march over to their house and hex her—"
"You should want to hex him," Blaise interrupted, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. "He's the one who's doing this to both of you."
Sliding her hands up to his chest, she grasped his shirt. "I know. Logically, I know you're right, but my heart doesn't see it that way."
He nodded and released her face, his hands grabbing her wrists instead. He pulled her hands away from his shirt and laced his fingers through hers. When her eyes widened in shock, he let go and said, "Close your eyes and take deep breaths. Let it all go."
After stepping back and leaning against the wall, memory Hermione followed his directives, trying to relax.
"You're strong. You can handle this," Blaise said. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'll help you. You don't need to keep putting yourself through this."
"I think my take on all this is right," I stated, drawing present Granger's attention. "He was trying to tear us apart long before he went along with the Obliviation."
She closed her eyes and nodded.
"Thank you," memory Hermione said on an exhale. "Thank you for coming. I didn't know who else to call."
"Did he come here?" Blaise asked her.
"He did, straight after waking up I imagine."
Blaise's jaw tightened, the muscle twitching and flexing.
"I just don't understand," memory Hermione continued, her voice shaky. "He said that he just needed some time. How long am I supposed to wait?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't wait—"
"I have to," she interrupted. "I can't just give up on love, Blaise. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone."
He didn't reply right away, and she took a few steps closer.
Looking down at her, he asked, "Do you want me to talk to him?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "This is a decision he has to make on his own. I just thought he would've made it before now."
Since I'd known Blaise for years, I could tell he was at war with himself internally. There was something he wanted to say but also wanted to keep to himself.
Sighing, he let it all out. "Hermione, he's complicated. He's afraid of a lot of things, like losing Lucius and Narcissa. He doesn't want to be disowned, and it has nothing to do with the money. It's a lot more than that."
Despite his own feelings, Blaise was almost coming to my defence, telling Hermione things that I likely had never mentioned to her.
"And Lucius, he may have changed after the war, but I don't know if he's changed enough to be okay with the idea of you and Draco and half-blooded grandchildren."
I saw the hurt on her face. "After everything, do you really think that still matters to him? He almost lost his only son over blood supremacy."
"I think it would be hard for him to accept the change in his own line, not in general," Blaise responded. "It's been ingrained in the Malfoys that they are to behave a very specific way. Lucius was just lucky that he fell in love with a pureblood. Draco, not so much."
Memory Hermione blushed. "I wish I'd known years ago."
Blaise smiled, but I could see the pain behind it. "I told him to talk to you. I couldn't do much else."
"You're a good friend, Blaise," she replied, her hand settling on his cheek. "Thank you for trying to get him to realise that he deserves more than a marriage that his parents chose for him. It's just a pity he was too thick to believe you."
"I know that he's not lying," I said, looking to present Granger. "He did tell me for years and years that I needed to open up to you. I just... I couldn't. I couldn't tell you."
"And the bit about your parents?" she asked me.
"That's also true. I didn't want to lose my family. I almost did during the war, and whether or not my father is a good person, I knew that he was trying to keep us all safe. When Voldemort rose again... Well, he had no choice."
"Just like you," she whispered. "I mean, you always told me that you had a choice and made the wrong ones."
"My father would've been killed if he deserted," I pointed out. "I had the option of hiding away at school. I didn't have to go home for the winter hols or anything like that, Hermione."
She shrugged. "Our opinions on this have always differed. And, on top of that, you also have more than made up for your past."
The memory captured our attention again.
"He's not thick. He's just lost. He has been for a long time, and only Pansy and I really know him," Blaise explained, his voice strained. "And maybe you now, too. He just doesn't really know how to handle you, I think. He's so in love with you, but he's feeling trapped."
"I notice how he's not telling you that he convinced me to go through with the wedding," I said bitterly. "He may be trying to be decent, but he'd already meddled in our relationship."
"I know," present Granger said, turning to me. "I was upset with him after I saw that memory. That's when things got really tense between us."
"I know there's no easy solution, but I can't do this forever. I can't see him with her."
And, after the memory we'd watched earlier, I knew this was still true. She hated seeing me with Astoria, even to this day.
" You're allowed to hate Astoria, and you're allowed to be mad at Draco. This whole situation is bloody awful," Blaise said, comforting her.
"I know, but it all... It's hard. It feels wrong to hate someone because she's married to my boyfriend. That's all kinds of backwards."
Blaise smirked. "It really is, but I'm not going to tell you it's wrong. I understand why you feel that way."
She slapped his arm and then wiped her eyes. "Do you think they slept together last night?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione."
"He told me that he's not sleeping with her," she said, biting her fingernails.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled it away from her mouth. "Don't do that. It's disgusting," he said. "But if Draco told you that he's not sleeping with Astoria, I'm sure he hasn't been. I don't see why last night would be different from any other night."
"Um, it was their wedding anniversary," memory Hermione pointed out. "And, on top of that, he was supposed to come over last night, and he sent me an owl an hour after he was supposed to be here."
Blaise's eyes widened a tiny bit. "Well, I don't know then. I can't say for sure either way."
"I can't, either," she responded. "I mean, I normally believe him, but if he stayed with her..."
"Talk to him about it later," he suggested. "I know you're mad right now, but you'll settle, and he's not going to just let you go without a fight."
"Of course not," memory Hermione answered. "I'm just so angry right now. I don't want to see him."
"Well, staying home and skiving off work is always an option, but I can't say it's the healthiest one for you."
"I know. I should be upstairs in the shower, getting ready for the day. But he's going to be there, and I'm not ready to face him. I don't want to argue about this in the office, and I know he won't just leave me be."
"You're probably right," Blaise said. "But you know Potter will wonder where you are."
She scoffed. "Probably for all of five seconds, but I don't think that it'll really phase him. He might send me an owl asking if I want him to get soup or something from Molly at the Burrow, but he doesn't know there's anything going on between Draco and me, nevermind how messy it is."
Blaise looked like he didn't know what to say, but I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't have known how to handle her, either.
"Go get ready. You can do this, and I'll keep Draco away from your office today."
"Promise?" she asked, looking up at him through her lashes.
"Tesoro, I promise. Anytime you want me to keep him busy, you just say the word."
"For Salazar's sake, Granger, you didn't realise he was interested in you?" I hissed, looking between memory Granger and Blaise. "You're practically flirting with him."
She chewed on her cheek and fresh tears sprang in her eyes. "I really didn't see it before. I thought he was just being kind to me."
I shook my head and turned away, angry with myself for being such an arse. She was upset and I'd acted like a jealous wanker. While I wasn't looking, Granger must have waved her hand and advanced the memory.
"You look like you're ready to knock him out," Blaise said.
As soon as I glanced up and saw memory Granger, my breath caught.
She was wearing a red dress — not the one from Valentine's Day, but she looked just as beautiful — and the red lipstick, her curls falling over one shoulder. She was wearing the heels she'd worn in Paris and I looked at her neck. I saw the tiniest hint of a fine platinum chain.
"You were wearing the diamond," I said, glancing over to present Granger. "Why?"
"I knew you'd notice."
Swallowing hard, I looked back to where Blaise was watching memory Granger pack her handbag for work. His eyes roamed over her, taking in the length of her legs, the curves of her body. He was lusting after her, and she had been none the wiser.
"I thought you didn't want him to bother you," Blaise said in a teasing tone.
With a confident smile, she replied, "I don't want him to. That doesn't mean that I don't want him to look at me."
Blaise shook his head. "You're something else, Hermione. From a weeping wreck to a little seductress in no time at all."
"Only when it comes to him."
My breath caught in my chest and present Granger's did, too. I heard the sound and started to turn towards her.
Before our eyes could meet, we were thrown from the Pensieve once more.
Hermione put distance between us immediately, moving over to her normal spot on the sofa and wrapping herself in a blanket, despite the July heat that was trapped inside her house.
"I was a fool," she said, looking up at me. "I can't even believe how easy it was for him to just slide into my life and manipulate me like that."
While I agreed with her, I knew that an 'I told you so' was not what she needed right now. I promised myself I would be better, that I wouldn't hold Blaise against her anymore.
"Granger, you needed someone and he was there for you," I began, moving over towards her sitting area.
I eyed the armchair but decided against it. Instead, I sat on the sofa, though there was a whole cushion between us.
"He was there for me, but I should've realised he had other motives."
"And how were you supposed to realise that? You were distraught, and I'm sure every single time you interacted with him like that, you were upset. And then by the time my father threatened you, you were vulnerable."
She pulled the blanket tighter. "I was, but Draco, Blaise and I didn't get together until you were out of my life for over a year."
"I know that," I replied quietly. "But you trusted him. I can understand why you'd want to be with him."
She sighed and shook her head. "I just don't get it. If he had been trying to get me to see him in that light for years, why would he just leave?"
In my head, all I could think was because he knows. He knows we're soulmates, that we won't be able to resist this connection forever.
But I didn't let myself say it aloud. That would mean accepting it myself, and I wasn't there yet. There was still so much I needed to see and understand.
"I'm not sure," I said cautiously. "Do you think he'll come back?"
"I don't want him to. It's not like I could ever trust him again between Sara and the way he left," she answered with no hesitation. "I just can't figure out why. In the letter, he said that I was falling into being the other woman again, which obviously isn't true. There's nothing going on between us, and he never even really asked me how I was feeling about you."
Up until this morning, when she'd let me touch her, I would've agreed that there was nothing going on between us. But things were changing with every single memory we watched and every evening spent together. We'd each taken comfort from the other — even if it was just small, over-the-clothes touches — and it had me aching for more.
Deep inside my chest, I could feel her sadness. The pain was overwhelming and made me want to comfort her. I wanted to hold her and reassure her that everything was going to be okay.
What okay meant, though, I wasn't sure.
"Hermione," I said, making her look in my direction. "What can I do?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, a confused expression on her face.
"I feel you. I feel how upset you are right now," I replied, meeting her eyes. "I can't explain it, but—"
She cut me off. "You should probably go home. Don't you have to be at St Mungo's early?"
Her dismissal knocked me back a step.
"What?"
"Astoria, she'll need you in the morning, and it's getting late. I wouldn't want you to oversleep or anything."
I frowned. "What are you doing right now?"
Staring down at her lap, she said, "I need space, Draco. I need to think, and I can't do that when you're close to me."
"But you wanted me to see the memory with Blaise. Don't you want to talk it over?"
I knew I was grasping at straws, but she was panicking. I didn't know if I should give her time and space or push her limits.
"No, that was a mistake," she said, her words rushing out. "I'm sorry. I need to sort Blaise out on my own. I should keep him separate from the memories that you want to see."
Standing up, I took a cautious step towards her end of the sofa. When she didn't move, I continued until I was immediately in front of her. I knelt on the floor and settled my hands on her arms again. They were wrapped in the blanket, but I could feel the tingles of magic again.
"Look at me," I said, waiting for her attention. When her head tilted towards me, I stroked my thumbs back and forth against her arms. "You don't need to keep it separate if you don't want to. I want to know what happened between the two of you as well. I want to know how it's all connected."
Her breathing was uneven.
"I'm sorry," she murmured for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. "I should've believed you. I should've listened when you told me it was just that one time. I ruined everything, and—"
I squeezed her arms.
"You did not ruin things, Hermione. Not on your own, anyway. I can admit that I did plenty wrong, and so did Astoria and my father and, fuck, I'm willing to bet Blaise did too. You need to stop blaming yourself for everything."
She closed her eyes, and it gave me an opportunity to examine her face closely, even if just for a few seconds.
Her lips were slightly parted and perfect, but I could see the stress written across her face. I wished I could reach out and smooth the furrow between her brows.
"I don't believe you," she replied, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. "But thank you for trying to make me feel better."
"Can I do anything to convince you?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, not right now."
"What about tomorrow?"
Smiling the smallest amount, she exhaled. "We'll see. I just need to process. I've spent so long being angry with you for lying to me, and now I know you weren't."
"Are you sure you want me to leave?" I asked.
She shook my hands off her arms. "I am. We've both been a little reckless today. This morning was just... too much, I think."
So she'd definitely felt our connection again.
With a nod of understanding, I stood. She did too, keeping the blanket tightly around herself.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to encircle her the way the blanket was, but I held back.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I stated, not letting her think it was a question.
"I'll be here."
Gathering up every ounce of my self-control, I stepped into the Floo and went home to my empty house, wishing that she'd let me stay.