Disclaimer: the characters in this story are not mine, they belong to JK Rowling.
Hermione paced relentlessly in her studio flat, the rental she barely used, which was located a thirty-minute muggle train ride from central London in a quaint suburban town. She was drained magically, emotionally, and physically from attending a No-Maj conference in Salem, Massachusetts.
She had told her former healer apprenticeship partner, Stephanie Knox, that she would never splinch herself. She had familiarity with multiple terrains, after years of travel healing and research. Nevertheless, Stephanie had tried to stop her from intercontinental apparition, especially when her excuse for rushing back was a routine appointment.
Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she could remember the spell to untangle the knots. She had used all her energy and magical stores, getting the signature she needed from the Department of No-Maj Misinformation. Sleeping wasn't an option; these days sleeping took too much energy.
Tomorrow, Hermione had to see her parents for their monthly "check-up." She had obliviated them to believe she was a holistic muggle healer, sent by the National Health Service, on a monthly basis to help them with aging. It was supposed to be a short-term identity and the last memory charm she used on them.
Hermione sighed, stopped pacing, and noticed her stomach rumbling. The one treacle tart she had stuffed into her mouth this morning was not enough.
She pulled her travel blender out of her satchel; the muggle device saved her from travel food. She plugged the device into the electrical outlet she had installed using self-taught magic to wire the electricity and started gathering her ingredients. She added ginger root, strawberries, ice, protein powder and a pinch of calming draught for sleep. She needed to sleep to prepare for tomorrow, for seeing him.
She mixed the ingredients on the low setting, as she looked for her stock of runespoor eggs. The buzz of electricity caused her hands to shake, leading her to drop an egg, its contents tumbling on the floor before she could boil it.
"I should never have gotten Draco involved," Hermione said, seething as she chunked the remaining eggs into her blender with a heavy hand.
She set the machine on high and watched the now pink mixture blend together with its mix of muggle and wizard ingredients. She summoned a tall clear glass and snorted as she remembered her conversations from earlier.
"No-Majs cannot work with wizards," the esteemed Potion Master Marie Blunt had said in response to her questions to Healer Clout. "We will remain completely separate."
They are fools who do not understand arithmancy, Hermione thought, pouring her smoothie into the glass. She took it to her small sitting area and slurped it down, like she was still on the run.
Hermione had started connecting with North American witches when they needed a cure for Trollwig Pox, a disease that had spread rapidly throughout Appalachia when the Department of No-Maj Misinformation decided to uproot an exceptionally cankerous mountain troll from its home in the Smoky Mountains. She told them once she had found the antidote, that her potion for the disfiguring malady had roots in muggle technology, yet they refused to believe her.
Hermione sighed louder, casting several charms to clean the blender and her glass.
In her speech earlier, she had advocated for combining advanced healing spells and muggle medical technology, to cure a spreading bowel disease, which was spreading throughout North Africa and the Middle East. It was connected to contaminated water and to terrorist cells, fighting over access to shared freshwater. The wizarding world was not paying attention to the disease's exponential growth.
Hermione's qualifications as part of the 2nd Wizarding War's golden trio, as the rebuilder of Hogwarts curriculum, and her advanced healing licenses were not enough to persuade the Magical Congress of the United States or the Wizengamot without resorting to manipulation. She was becoming more Slytherin each day, even before she started meeting with Draco Malfoy on a regular basis.
Hermione's stomach stopped turning - the smoothie was working. Maybe tonight would bring sleep, which she desperately needed. Tomorrow would be the last time she would see her parents. She was going to give up on the failed project of reversing the memory spells she casted on them before the war. They would never know their daughter again.
Making her way to her bed, she felt dirty, despite showering and putting on fresh clothes. Tomorrow, she would see Draco Malfoy, again. She had told him to stop helping her with her parents several months ago, and he refused.
Hermione shivered, despite getting underneath a heavy set of wool covers. It had been a month since she had seen him, and she had blocked his owls and connection to her Floo. It had started platonically, a favor that was supposed to be short-term, and then he had changed things and now she did not know what to do.
She sighed and let her mind wander to that night, one month ago. The night that never should have happened.
Hermione stared into Draco's silver eyes, and said, confidently what she never thought she could say to Draco Malfoy, "You have done enough. I don't blame you for any of it. We all had our reasons, and my parents are never getting their memories back."
"You saw the flicker of recognition in your father's eyes."
"It was not enough. He simply was surprised that you put your arm around me."
"There is a reason they remembered me, and no one else," he said, quietly. "They remembered the boy you used to call a Ferret."
Hermione turned her face away from him, while he stood there tight lipped.
He suddenly grabbed her forearm and scowled before touching her scar with his long cold fingers where the word mudblood was carved into her flesh.
They stood silently, outside of her parents' stoop.
"They will get their memories back."
She squirmed before him, and she thought she saw a knowing look in his eyes, like they shared a secret.
She snuggled into her sheets, feeling the mattress's charm lift her lower back, providing structured support. Draco had never said recovering her parents' memories was hopeless, which made the reality of it worse.
In the beginning, it had been awkward to have him at her monthly meeting with her parents. The meetings were usually short affairs. She had cast another memory spell on them after they had randomly brought up wanting to see a man that she called a ferret. They now thought Draco was her medical assistant.
Due to some twist of fate, her parents had one lingering memory of the past. They knew she had called Draco Malfoy a ferret and that he was rich, which made no sense because they accepted her as their holistic nurse, Amanda. They said they had no children.
After several months of meeting with her parents, Hermione had caught Draco staring at her occasionally, as he spoke to her parents and she had slyly, shared his unwavering gaze. They had laughed at her parents attempts to show their superiority and intellect, something she could now see in herself.
She was not the only one who had become more self-aware. After Auror training, the post-war trials, amateur Quidditch, Draco had stopped using his family background as a crutch. He had become a sweet talker to her parents, and a seasoned professional. She didn't know why he was not married.
At a physical level, Hermione was attracted to him. His pointed, aristocratic features had softened some while his frame had grown masculine and bulkier. He would be a catch.
Hermione gulped, as she pulled the blanket over her head. Something inside pulled at her stomach, a pang she had felt before, leading men on.
Harry had told her, once he had gotten Ginny pregnant and they had started fighting, in almost a whisper, "I should have asked you first. I should have been more direct."
She would never tell Ron the reason she first left Britain as a travel healer was not him, despite his one-time affair with Lavender. It was because of Harry.
Ron had told her kissing Lavender during his post-war celebrity tour with Harry was an accident, and that it meant nothing. He had begged her to reconsider when she ended their relationship, which should never have started. After a year of travel, she had forgotten both Harry and Ron, besides sending holiday presents and cards. A solitary tear slipped onto her cheek, her two former best friends, it would never have worked romantically with either of them.
The pang in her stomach grew and she started to sob into the blanket, as she imagined Ron's and Harry's faces if she told them, the person she did think about constantly – Draco Malfoy.
Hermione's mind rushed back to the muggle sidewalk, to last month, after Draco had told her he would get her parents' memories back. She had been crying on their stoop and he had hovered above her, after grabbing her arm to inspect her scar.
"Harry Potter used to want you," Draco said, as he pulled her up by the arm, forcing her to stand. "Not as a friend."
She scowled at him, giving him the best glare, she could summon. "You can forget about this and me."
"You refuse to pay attention," he snapped, in a cold voice, grabbing her complete attention. "To what is right in front of you."
Hermione stared back, speechless, feeling uncomfortable by the intensity of his gaze, by the focus in his silver eyes. She turned away from him and planned to tell him to bugger off.
"You refused to see Harry, and now you refuse to see me."
She swung her head back in his direction. "What?"
"You were more suited to Potter than Weasley and he knows it, even today."
"How did you…"
"Don't bother," Draco said, and his eyes softened. "Do you trust me?"
Hermione hesitated, and despite her good sense, and their shared history, she nodded.
"Then come with me," he said, grabbing her hand, and she felt the magic surround them, taking them to another place.
Hermione clenched her stomach as she rolled on her other side in the same bed, willing the calming draught to take a larger effect. The smoothie had restored her energy, yet she still needed to sleep.
Her bedroom curtains closed, which were magically charmed to close when sleep was near, and then she closed her eyes, willing herself to forget that night. She did not forget.
Hermione's dreams were visceral vivid reminders of what had occurred the month before.
Draco apparated them into a lounge area of a modern, yet magical building that resembled a hotel. The expensive furnishings did not hide the presence of magic.
Hermione felt her hair grow smoother and her clothing change and tighten. There was also something unusual about the smell of the place, something unknown mixed with rosemary and mint, a subtle aphrodisiac. There were no other witches or wizards present.
The sparsely decorated dark maroon walls contained portraits of bare-chested witches and wizards, clearly with heritages from across the globe. They pointed towards an unmanned kiosk with white lilies adoring it, in elegant simplicity. There was no staff present.
"Draco, what-?" Hermione started to say, when he squeezed her hand harder. She forgot they were holding hands, during side-along apparition, causing an unexpected fluttering feeling to surge throughout her body.
Her uncovered arms were covered with small goosebumps despite the building's charmed temperature.
Draco guided her towards the kiosk, while Hermione scanned the nearby hallway and bar. No other wizards or witches were seen. Their solitude was intentional.
With an unfamiliar spell, Draco appeared to take care of some logistics, checking them in and grabbing a chrome-colored token, in the shape of a small disc, which appeared before him. He grabbed it with his long hands, his fingers clean and shapely.
Hermione paused as she noticed his hands, and she arched her neck slightly to look down at his ringless left hand. She had failed to ask, she recalled, why he wasn't married. She thought purebloods like Draco had arranged marriages.
Draco met her eyes when she looked up and the silver orbs appeared to recognize what she had been doing.
Hermione gave him a coy smile, which he returned, causing her stomach to flutter again and her insides to tingle. It had been a while since she had gotten any male attention. She had mostly dated muggles, while traveling, and there was something missing with their interactions, a lack of magic.
She couldn't help comparing his graceful stride to the broody movements of an American war veteran she had dated and to the bumbling steps of Ron Weasley.
Draco brought her to the end of a dark hallway, to a black door, with gold engraved letters, room 14. "Do you trust me?" he repeated his question from earlier.
Hermione nodded, her body betraying her, as a red flush crept up her throat.
It had started with a long kiss, as Draco pushed her into the room's magically enchanted walls. The wall had felt like a cushion and his hands had felt warm on her cool cheek.
"This is the only way," Draco said as he grabbed a contraceptive potion which he summoned from a nearby sleek modern nightstand.
Hermione wanted to deny him as his eyes gazed into hers and he held the potion in front of her, smirking. But she opened her mouth, and let him slowly and seductively, pour the potion.
The room filled with music, as if charmed to begin, and the candlelight dimmed as if on a timer.
Hermione let him lead her to the well-appointed bed, and he used magic to arouse her, a feat neither Ron nor any of her muggle boyfriends had attempted. Spell after spell was used until her body was on fire, and she could not resist him.
"Draco please," she whispered, when they undressed. She ran her fingers over his chest, waiting for him to make the next move. The room had transfigured her everyday underwear into luxury lingerie, which had dramatically increased his arousal. He couldn't wait forever for his release, she thought, staring into his eyes.
Draco cast another charm, which brought an additional device to their shared bed, before he entered her without any hesitation. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."
For the first time in her life, she wanted to be speechless, she wanted to forget the world, and all its problems. She wanted to lose herself, again and again, and learn everything about magical sex toys. So, she gave in and allowed herself to feel those forbidden feelings, giving her control over to another.
Hermione gulped again, as she rose from sleep, and touched her throat. Draco had bitten her there and stroked her everywhere, while she had wantonly groaned, forgetting their past. No, she thought, she hadn't forgotten their past while they had fucked again and again, until he found the spot inside her, while maintaining the charms required for her to have the most mind-blowing orgasm.
Their coupling had been a form of blending of her life before the war and after the war. Like the smoothie, in which she could mix wizarding and muggle ingredients, post-war Hermione wanted something to energize her, that fit her needs. It required a delicate mix.
If Hermione started with a new guy, there was too much to explain, and she doubted explaining would do her history justice. She had tried with a war veteran, thinking he would get it, yet because of the rules on wizarding secrecy, she was blocked from telling him the important stuff, so their relationship had faded.
Accidental magic led sparks to cause static electricity to flow off her hands as she sat in the bed. She didn't notice the sparks as she felt the godfather clock's reminder spell, touch the top of her shoulder, it was time to wake-up.
Hermione felt a tremor climb down her throat, landing in the pit of her stomach. She had forgotten to uninvite Draco or cancel their scheduled monthly meeting. Draco had no right to be part of this. Yet, she couldn't deny the truth - the only link between her parents' new life and old memories was his status as a ferret.
When she first gave them the memory reversal potion, hand brewed using select ingredients from Professor Severus Snape's own private supply closet, which she had inherited, she never imagined the first words out of her parents' mouths.
Her mother, who thought of herself as Monica Wilkins, had looked at her dumbfounded then said in a timid voice, that contrasted with her usual tone, "Nurse, do you remember a man you called a ferret? I don't know why I'm telling you this. Such a silly idea."
Her father had nodded, as if recalling an earlier conversation with her.
Hermione's jaw had dropped because it didn't make sense. Of all things, her parents could have remembered, she had to remember her brief description of Draco Malfoy from their time at Hogwarts. They must have thought she had liked him, which must have been important enough to their old selves that the memory outlasted the spells she had performed.
The sparks shooting out of her hands grew larger as she remembered coming to Draco and asking for his help. She had complained about him so much in the past to her parents. It's the only explanation, she thought, dully, refusing to admit she had previously been attracted to him. Her mother must have seen through her hate, when she had told them about Draco Malfoy.
Draco had owed her his assistance, multiple times over, because of all he had done to her and since she had spoken up on his behalf during the after-war trials. He admitted his debt to her when he agreed, and she thought it would be a one-time arrangement.
The sparks cascading off her hands got so large, the hairs on her head and her arms started to stand at attention. She flicked her hands to stop the accidental magic which only created a bigger wave of static electricity.
"Stop it," Hermione shouted, as if her emotions were the perfectly crafted gold faucet in the perfects' bathroom that could be turned on and off at will.
Instead of stopping her emotions, the pit in her stomach morphed into an anger. She had done this to herself. She had fucked the one man who should be off-limits – Draco Malfoy.
The cracking of the wood which split her bed's dark headboard into two distinct pieces was precise and deafening. Someone who didn't know her would have thought it was premediated instead of accidental.
As the pieces of the headboard fell with a thump onto the ground, probably waking up her neighbors, Hermione let go of the breath she didn't realize she was holding. It was clear now, as clear as her smoothie glass, what had to be done.
Hours later, Hermione apparated to her parents front stoop in the muggle townhome she had rented on their behalf after moving them from Australia. The fall air was crisp and the bright colored leaves lining the trees were past their prime. October was almost over.
The original deadline she set for their memory recovery was this Christmas.
Two years ago, Hermione had made a promise to herself that she wouldn't continue this forever. It was too painful for her parents to refer to her as their wellness nurse. She had confounded them to get their paperwork transferred. The flicker of recognition in her dad's eyes last time wasn't enough to sustain this much of her energy going towards this failed project.
This would be her last visit, she thought, just as she heard a sharp crack of magic. Draco had arrived. She refused to look at him, as her shaky hand knocked on her parents' front door.
The door swung open, and her mother smiled, "Nurse Amanda and Nursing Assistant Draco so good to see you both again." Then, she got the momentary stunned look she always got when she saw Draco.
Hermione trembled as she walked into their home, reflecting on how the furnishings resembled their old place. It was familiar even if they didn't remember it.
"Would you all like some tea?"
Draco grabbed her hand and pulled it tight towards his side before answering her mother, when the unbelievable came out of his mouth. He said, "Yes, and you are correct on your assessment of my financial situation."
Hermione coughed; a prickly sound came out. She raised an eyebrow at him, and her heart rate quickened, as he dragged her to sit down on the small navy velvet loveseat in the sitting room.
Her father was already seated at the armchair across from it, studying an oil portrait with intensity, as if he planned to discuss its merits.
"I plan to use those funds to woo your daughter."
An uncomfortable silence ensued, and her mother let out an unrecognizable squeal, like a Hogwarts student meeting the golden trio for the first time.
Feeling the impact of trying sleep, Hermione tried to wipe the crust off her eyes, and to stay awake. This technique wasn't going to work. She felt Draco's hand around her neck, in an awkward, yet dominant position.
Accidental magic, ensued and she felt sparks lift them slightly, breaking his hold.
"Did we…"
Hermione felt more magic, fill up her abdomen, she took several breaths before meeting her mother's eyes as Draco retook her hand.
"Are you okay Amanda?" Her dad asked, not noticing their raised position. "You look ill."
Hermione nodded and felt a chill creep up her arm, like they were still outside, as she used wandless magic to raise the couch, so they weren't levitating.
For the first time in two years, she saw the flicker of recognition towards her in her dad's chestnut brown eyes. The eyes she shared with him.
"She's not okay," Draco said, casually, grabbing her waist and hoisting her on his laps, their hips nearly colliding in the process. "It's the effect I have on her."
Hermione scowled and crossed her hands over her chest, trying to prepare a rebuke and exit plan when she heard the hushed words of her mother. "Did we have a daughter?"
Her father just blinked, when she turned her head violently to face her mother who had tears streaming down her face.
"Is that you?" her mother repeated. Her face scrunched as if she had gotten a muggle facial treatment and her face was frozen as she tried to make an expression.
Hermione was dumbstruck, and Draco let the silence linger. They waited there for a long two minutes until Mr. Granger stood up, and surveyed Draco who chose that moment to bounce her on his lap, defiantly, moving his right hand towards her right breast.
"Not in our home young lady." The mature voice of Monica Wilkins was gone, and the voice that replaced it was distinct, clear and bossy.
"Hermione," Mr. Granger said, as if struck by lightning. "You are Hermione, and you are a witch." He pointed towards Draco; his face filled with fury. "She hates you."
"A witch?" Mrs. Granger said, clearly confused. "There is no such thing!"
"Yes, there is," Draco said quietly. "And your daughter, Hermione was the best and brightest of our year. Which you would have expected, of course.
"Of course." Mr. Granger said, automatically. He scratched his white chin hairs, vigorously, like there was something bugging him. There was something he was looking for as he stared at them.
Hermione shifted off Draco's lap, wiping the sweat on her brow, feeling her insides clench in anticipation. His proximity impacted her, she felt hot, as if on fire, remembering their night together. She flushed in deep dark red patches, hidden underneath her clothes, and she patted her throat, carelessly.
"You thought she would end up with the red-head," Draco said coolly, scooting closer to her, she withheld her breath as he eyed her mother who nodded. "Or Harry Potter. Yet, she doesn't. She ends up with me. I am going to ask you all for her hand in marriage. Yet, I need you two to be sentient."
Hermione gasped and stood up so quickly she knocked her back side on a glass end table, breaking it.
The glass sliced open her nursing attire, exposing her underwear.
"That's enough Mr. Malfoy," her father said, his eyes narrowing, as Hermione cast several repair and healing charms, "I remember, at least parts of the past. What is the meaning of this? What have you done to our daughter?"
Her parents waited expectedly, as Draco tugged her right hand after she had finished her charm work, guiding her back into the love seat.
Draco started talking and didn't stop until he had covered the entirety of the war, breaking down one of the most complicated periods in Wizarding history into manageable and mostly unbiased chunks. She saw her parents take it all in, including her torture at his house, and by the end of his summary they were all crying.
She wanted to end it, to break the tense moment, to hug her parents, and then return when her heart was not pounding in her chest. Her loyalties were tied in multiple directions. She wanted to tell them all of it, yet she never planned too, even if they got their memories back.
It was all too much for her; however, she felt an inner calm, one she hadn't felt in years wave over her, deeper than any pepper up potion or calming draught could muster. It was as if her heart was mended, sewn together, the people she loved most now knew her story, even if they couldn't relate to it.
Her parents were hugging her and then, surprisingly her mother embraced Draco, pulling him into her and she sobbed into his chest.
"Thank you," she said, "Thank you for bringing us our daughter."
Hermione was ready to go, to plan another meeting, to dismiss them, and make promises for another day, when Draco cleared his throat.
"And now, do you see it, after you heard what we've seen?" He said, with a serious undertone. He faced her father, while grabbing her hand. "I need her."
"You come from two different worlds," her father, stammered.
"My views have changed," Draco said, now looking into Hermione's eyes. "I see the world differently now; the muggle and wizarding worlds are more blended. Threats and opportunities come from muggles and wizards alike."
Hermione blinked, processing his statement. Had Draco read her research on muggle threats to the wizarding world? Was it part of his Auror training?
"Why?" Mrs. Granger asked, stepping closer to Draco. "What made them change?"
Draco shrugged then pointed to Hermione as if it was obvious.
Hermione felt all their eyes on her. She opened her mouth to talk then shut it closed, as her heartrate skyrocketed. This was too much to process.
Draco met her gaze and took her into his arms, embracing her tightly.
Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. An inner voice told her, tonight would bring sleep for the first time in months. She let herself rest, as he addressed her parents. All her concerns about muggle and wizarding politics and her parents' memories began to roll off her, like a weight had been lifted.
"She knows my past, and I want her to be my future."
Hermione sighed at his proclamation but held Draco closer, smelling the fresh evergreen filled scent of his white, blonde hair. The path ahead would involve multiple steps before she considered marriage. Yet, for the first time in years, she had hope that her past and future could be blended and part of a worthwhile relationship – something just right.