"Norwegian Wood"
Chapter 4
Draco walked to the top of the stairs at the end of the hallway in the Dickensian Inn. Looking around briefly and seeing no one, he disapparated with a small POP!
Suddenly he found himself in the alleyway he had been in with Heather minutes before. The street was dark and silent, which meant that the Death Eaters had probably left. Sure enough, when Draco looked around the corner, there was not a soul in sight.
Praying that he might find his wand somewhere, Draco searched every inch of the area where he had been disarmed. He found nothing. It looked as though the Death Eaters had been smart enough to keep Draco's only weapon away from him.
Cursing, Draco walked farther down the street, hoping with all his might that he just might manage to find it...
When looking under a parked car, Draco heard a POP! behind him, a sound that sounded horribly like an apparation. Wheeling around, he came face-to- face with yet another hooded figure. "Hello, Draco." It said.
Draco felt a shiver when he heard the cold voice. Usually, Death Eaters didn't scare him, but something about this man standing before him, his face completely covered, made Draco want to cower in fright. He didn't realize why until the voice spoke again.
"Your father has introduced us before, when you were younger. Lucius would have given up on you becoming a Death Eater long ago had it not been for me. I always thought you had the makings of a good supporter...was I wrong?" It said, stepping towards Draco.
Draco gave an involuntary sharp intake of breath when he realized he was talking to the Dark Lord himself. Draco was moving his lips noiselessly, obviously too shocked to speak, when he noticed his wand hanging loosely in Voldemort's right hand. The sight of this somehow gave him confidence and he spoke. "Yes," he said, "You were wrong. I have no intention of becoming a Death Eater. Now or ever."
Even though Voldemort's face was hidden, Draco was almost positive that he was smirking. "Is that so?" The Dark Lord said simply.
"Y-yes." Said Draco, trying to look anywhere but at the hooded figure. "Are you going to give me my wand?" He asked, although he thought he knew the answer.
"Yes." Said Voldemort, surprising Draco. "However, I ask you to think about what your life would be like in my service--your family would respect you again, you'd have money, power, honor, and life." Voldemort handed Draco his wand. "If you chose not to follow in your father's footsteps, you may end up the same as your school enemy, Potter." He laughed coldly.
"The Potters?" Draco said, trying to remember who had been asking him about the death of the Potter family...it had been Heather! He suddenly remembered her asking him if he knew anything about them before she lost her memory. She was the detective on that case, and the police thought it was him! Draco glared at Voldemort. "The police think it was me, you know. They'll probably arrest me any day now. Do I have you to thank for that?"
"No. Lucius did the actual killing, though I obviously can't deny that I was extremely pleased."
Draco thought about it. So his father had killed them...yes, that made sense, he had seen Lucius looking around an old apartment building for days before Heather visited him and informed him of the death of the Potters. He remembered waiting outside the building, in a park across the street, for Lucius to come out so that Draco could once again spy on him. That was probably why the police suspected him...he had always been around the Potters' apartment before it happened. "So are you just going to let me go tonight? You're not going to kill me or curse me?"
Draco could feel Voldemort's smile. "No. Not tonight." He said, and disapparated.
Hermione sighed and went to the small bathroom in Draco's hotel room. Looking in the mirror, she removed the bandage from her neck, prepared to see the horrible gash she had obtained that morning. To her surprise, her neck was almost completely healed; all that was left was a small scar. She looked down at the bandage in confusion and began to wonder if her fast recovery had something to do with the magic Draco had told her existed that evening. Remembering that Draco had gone into the bathroom to get the bandage that morning, Hermione began to look around, not really expecting to find anything extraordinary. She looked under the sink to find a small red bottle there. The label read: QUIK-HEAL POTION FOR ALL CUTS AND BRUISES (Approved by the experts at St. Mungo's).
Hermione replaced the bottle, grateful that Draco had used the potion on her cut; she knew she would have been in pain all day if he hadn't. Standing up, Hermione washed her face and headed back into the bedroom wishing she had a fresh change of clothes. She yawned and stepped towards the bed. She felt something cold and smooth under her foot a split second before she slipped and came crashing to the floor next to the bed for the second time that day. "Oh, fuck it all." She moaned as she sat up. She reached under the bed, feeling around for what she had slipped on. After a moment she pulled out what looked like a small leather wallet. Opening it curiously, she found that it was a badge of some sort, with a photo I.D. The picture was definitely of her, but the name was not Heather Grant...
...it was Hermione Granger.
Gasping, Hermione dropped the badge in shock as suddenly a lifetime's worth of memories came flooding back to her. Her parents...Hogwarts...Harry and Ron...her years at muggle university...her time as a detective...discovering that Harry and his family were dead...meeting Dameon--no Draco. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized whose hotel room she was in. She looked around quickly as if expecting Draco to suddenly appear out of the shadows. 'It all makes sense!' she thought, 'I didn't hear Draco come in when I was looking around his hotel room because he must have apparated. Then he must have modified my memory to make me forget about the apparation...and I hit my head...and the combination must have made me lose my memory.' She sat for a moment, still trying to figure out everything that had happened.
After thinking for some time, Hermione realized that she could use her situation to her advantage. Draco didn't know that she had gotten her memory back, or that she was really Hermione. This way, she could ask him questions about Harry's death without him getting suspicious. Smiling to herself, Hermione carefully slipped the badge further under the bed and stood.
As she drifted off that night, she felt a renewed sadness for Harry, Sophie, and poor little Holly. At the same time she felt a surge of hatred towards whoever had killed them, whether it was Draco or someone else associated with the Dark Lord...
...but was Draco associated with the Dark Lord? Those Death Eaters certainly hadn't seemed to like him very much, and Draco had said he hated Voldemort...
...but that didn't mean he didn't still hate Harry.
Chapter 4
Draco walked to the top of the stairs at the end of the hallway in the Dickensian Inn. Looking around briefly and seeing no one, he disapparated with a small POP!
Suddenly he found himself in the alleyway he had been in with Heather minutes before. The street was dark and silent, which meant that the Death Eaters had probably left. Sure enough, when Draco looked around the corner, there was not a soul in sight.
Praying that he might find his wand somewhere, Draco searched every inch of the area where he had been disarmed. He found nothing. It looked as though the Death Eaters had been smart enough to keep Draco's only weapon away from him.
Cursing, Draco walked farther down the street, hoping with all his might that he just might manage to find it...
When looking under a parked car, Draco heard a POP! behind him, a sound that sounded horribly like an apparation. Wheeling around, he came face-to- face with yet another hooded figure. "Hello, Draco." It said.
Draco felt a shiver when he heard the cold voice. Usually, Death Eaters didn't scare him, but something about this man standing before him, his face completely covered, made Draco want to cower in fright. He didn't realize why until the voice spoke again.
"Your father has introduced us before, when you were younger. Lucius would have given up on you becoming a Death Eater long ago had it not been for me. I always thought you had the makings of a good supporter...was I wrong?" It said, stepping towards Draco.
Draco gave an involuntary sharp intake of breath when he realized he was talking to the Dark Lord himself. Draco was moving his lips noiselessly, obviously too shocked to speak, when he noticed his wand hanging loosely in Voldemort's right hand. The sight of this somehow gave him confidence and he spoke. "Yes," he said, "You were wrong. I have no intention of becoming a Death Eater. Now or ever."
Even though Voldemort's face was hidden, Draco was almost positive that he was smirking. "Is that so?" The Dark Lord said simply.
"Y-yes." Said Draco, trying to look anywhere but at the hooded figure. "Are you going to give me my wand?" He asked, although he thought he knew the answer.
"Yes." Said Voldemort, surprising Draco. "However, I ask you to think about what your life would be like in my service--your family would respect you again, you'd have money, power, honor, and life." Voldemort handed Draco his wand. "If you chose not to follow in your father's footsteps, you may end up the same as your school enemy, Potter." He laughed coldly.
"The Potters?" Draco said, trying to remember who had been asking him about the death of the Potter family...it had been Heather! He suddenly remembered her asking him if he knew anything about them before she lost her memory. She was the detective on that case, and the police thought it was him! Draco glared at Voldemort. "The police think it was me, you know. They'll probably arrest me any day now. Do I have you to thank for that?"
"No. Lucius did the actual killing, though I obviously can't deny that I was extremely pleased."
Draco thought about it. So his father had killed them...yes, that made sense, he had seen Lucius looking around an old apartment building for days before Heather visited him and informed him of the death of the Potters. He remembered waiting outside the building, in a park across the street, for Lucius to come out so that Draco could once again spy on him. That was probably why the police suspected him...he had always been around the Potters' apartment before it happened. "So are you just going to let me go tonight? You're not going to kill me or curse me?"
Draco could feel Voldemort's smile. "No. Not tonight." He said, and disapparated.
Hermione sighed and went to the small bathroom in Draco's hotel room. Looking in the mirror, she removed the bandage from her neck, prepared to see the horrible gash she had obtained that morning. To her surprise, her neck was almost completely healed; all that was left was a small scar. She looked down at the bandage in confusion and began to wonder if her fast recovery had something to do with the magic Draco had told her existed that evening. Remembering that Draco had gone into the bathroom to get the bandage that morning, Hermione began to look around, not really expecting to find anything extraordinary. She looked under the sink to find a small red bottle there. The label read: QUIK-HEAL POTION FOR ALL CUTS AND BRUISES (Approved by the experts at St. Mungo's).
Hermione replaced the bottle, grateful that Draco had used the potion on her cut; she knew she would have been in pain all day if he hadn't. Standing up, Hermione washed her face and headed back into the bedroom wishing she had a fresh change of clothes. She yawned and stepped towards the bed. She felt something cold and smooth under her foot a split second before she slipped and came crashing to the floor next to the bed for the second time that day. "Oh, fuck it all." She moaned as she sat up. She reached under the bed, feeling around for what she had slipped on. After a moment she pulled out what looked like a small leather wallet. Opening it curiously, she found that it was a badge of some sort, with a photo I.D. The picture was definitely of her, but the name was not Heather Grant...
...it was Hermione Granger.
Gasping, Hermione dropped the badge in shock as suddenly a lifetime's worth of memories came flooding back to her. Her parents...Hogwarts...Harry and Ron...her years at muggle university...her time as a detective...discovering that Harry and his family were dead...meeting Dameon--no Draco. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized whose hotel room she was in. She looked around quickly as if expecting Draco to suddenly appear out of the shadows. 'It all makes sense!' she thought, 'I didn't hear Draco come in when I was looking around his hotel room because he must have apparated. Then he must have modified my memory to make me forget about the apparation...and I hit my head...and the combination must have made me lose my memory.' She sat for a moment, still trying to figure out everything that had happened.
After thinking for some time, Hermione realized that she could use her situation to her advantage. Draco didn't know that she had gotten her memory back, or that she was really Hermione. This way, she could ask him questions about Harry's death without him getting suspicious. Smiling to herself, Hermione carefully slipped the badge further under the bed and stood.
As she drifted off that night, she felt a renewed sadness for Harry, Sophie, and poor little Holly. At the same time she felt a surge of hatred towards whoever had killed them, whether it was Draco or someone else associated with the Dark Lord...
...but was Draco associated with the Dark Lord? Those Death Eaters certainly hadn't seemed to like him very much, and Draco had said he hated Voldemort...
...but that didn't mean he didn't still hate Harry.