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:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:
:Chapter Fourteen:
Draco stopped as though he had run into a glass wall. That was Hermione, his Hermione, sitting on the bed, right? He ventured to take another step.
"Hermione, this is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Harry said, uncertainly.
"Draco Malfoy," Hermione repeated slowly. She rolled the word around in her mouth as though tasting a delicacy for the first time. She smile politely, without any of the warmth that she had for her friends.
"I'm sorry, you must have slipped my mind when we were introduced before...?" Hermione voice trailed off. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you. You go to Hogwarts?" At this point, everyone was looking at either Hermione or Draco with a shocked expression.
"Hermione! This is Malfoy! Malfoy the git! The one that turned into a ferret! The one that called you a mudblood!" Ron exclaimed. Ginny put a hand on his arm to calm him.
"Ro-on," Hermione said, with tried patience. "I don't know him so if this is a joke...is this a joke?" She studied the faces of her friends warily.
"Do you really not know me?" Draco said, finding his tongue again.
"I'm really sorry if I'm supposed to know who you are. I hit my head I think." Hermione rubbed a tender spot on her head. "Perhaps I've got amnesia." Hermione laughed, though it was a bit strained. Everyone else looked at her with a stricken expression. Draco could hardly stand to be standing there any more. Something was convulsing in his chest and screaming in his head. He had to get out of there before he started to yell at someone. Yell at Hermione for forgetting him. Yell at Harry and Ron and Ginny for being remembered. Hell, go find Dumbledore and yell at him for not doing anything. It took all of his strength to open his mouth and control what came out.
"It's...it's nothing. Well, I hope you recover soon," Draco said. His entire heart was screaming at him to beg and cry and plead Hermione, that she remembered him, didn't she? How could she forget him? He was breaking down, he really was. But he couldn't do it in front of Hermione. It was his reasonable mind that made him nod to everyone else in the room and force himself to walk out of the infirmary and into the hallway, alone. After a moment, Harry rushed after him, which made Ron jump to follow.
Hermione watched them go, feeling confused and vaguely lonely. What was that all about? Was he offended that she didn't remember him? Was she supposed to remember him? Everything about the last couple of days (or was it months? Everything was so muddled in her mind she could hardly think) was one big mess. She comforted herself in what she did know. But with Harry and Ron suddenly gone, she felt as though the proof of what she remembered was gone and she had let everyone down somehow.
Hermione felt her hand being squeezed and she looked down to find it was Ginny's hand. She looked up into her friend's worried face and felt the loneliness start to melt away.
"Hermione, are you feeling okay?" asked Ginny. How could Hermione remember everything but Draco? Ginny was more scared than she let on.
"I feel fine," Hemrione said. "Honestly I do. So please can you tell me what's going on?"
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"Malfoy! Hey! Malfoy!" Draco didn't stop when he heard Harry, Harry Potter, running after him. It was perhaps the only time Harry would be chasing him that wasn't in malicious intent or Quidditch. But Draco was in no condition to be surprised over the fact that Harry was trying to get his attention. All that was running through his mind was Hermione and Hermione not recognizing him. His mind was busy downloading the latest information that he had chosen to finally acknowledge: he loved her and he couldn't live without her.
Draco almost wished he could cry; that would at least be a cathartic release for him. Instead, all of his emotions stayed pent up in his chest until he thought he would burst. So he ran.
"Malfoy!" Draco had burst through the doors and onto the great, grassy Quidditch field. The wet grass was slippery under his feet but he didn't stop running. The sky was an overcast gray and the air was cold, biting into his face and hands. His breath came in gasps that turned into a visible fog.
"Draco will you please stop?" Draco somehow skidded to a stop for a reason he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he heard his first name. Or maybe it was because he was sick of running. He barely had time for these two, small thoughts to process in his mind when he felt something warm hit him, hard, in the back and he fell over, Harry on top of him.
"Jesus, Harry! Are you trying to kill me?" Draco groaned, rolling over on the wet grass.
"No, I was trying to catch you. How was I supposed to know you were suddenly going to stop?" Harry said, in a way that was irritable but not mean, if such a thing was really possible.
"Well why were you chasing me? No one in their right mind would stop when their enemy chases them," Draco said. He looked up at Harry's pale face, pink faintly coloring his cheeks.
"Don't be so childish. Drop this enemy thing, will you? Something happened; we both know it. Well I know it. So now you tell me what happened between you and Hermione."
"What? So you could skin me for it?" Draco scoffed. "Excuse me, Harry Potter, I may not be the Boy-Who-Lived but I am most certainly not stupid." Draco contemplated on what would be his easiest escape. Should he just start running again? No, Harry was in top physical condition like he was. He'd never get away. Could he convince Harry to let him go? No, Harry probably wouldn't be won over by anything Draco said.
"I won't," Harry said breathlessly. He was still breathing hard from running. Draco, startled, let his mind's thought process halt.
"What?"
"I won't. Skin you. Or hurt you in any way. I just want to know what happened." Draco searched Harry's emerald eyes warily. He noticed there was darkness in them, like a filmy cover that dimmed the color. He realized, with a small shock, that he felt sorry for the other boy. Sorry. For Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. But up close, it was easy, easier than anything else, to see how tired Harry was, how harrying life must be for him. Draco took this and trusted him.
"I met Hermione in a club halfway through summer," Draco began. "I saw someone put something in her drink. He's someone we both knew. Oh my god, I completely forgot about that." Suddenly energetic and anxious, Draco jumped up and started pacing around.
"Oh my god. I can't believe I hadn't given him a second thought. I can't believe-" Harry grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him back down.
"Who is this guy and what does he have to do with Hermione?" he asked seriously. Somewhere beyond Draco's current chaotic thoughts and worries, a loose thought threaded its way through his mind: Thank god one of us is rational. It was true. What would they have accomplished if both of them had suddenly turned into the dithering, anxious git that he seemed to have suddenly become?
"He slipped something, into her drink and I took her home so she wouldn't be in any danger. I had been living alone for the whole summer and it was good to see a familiar face, that's all, you have to believe me. That was all at the time."
"I believe you," Harry said. Draco drew courage from this and started again.
"I recognized that she wasn't eating. I knew because..." Draco hesitated. Should he really be saying all of this? Well, he already started so he might as well not leave anything out. "Because Pansy was anorexic for a long time when we used to go out. So I made her eat. She stayed with me for the summer and we became close." Draco wondered if maybe he should leave out some of the things he and Hermione did. But judging from Harry's face, Draco decided the other boy already knew.
"When school started, I did a cowardly thing but I felt like I had to do it at the time. People would...be angry if they knew that Hermione and I were together. Angry would be an understatement," Draco said wryly. "They would try to hurt her or me and I didn't want her hurt. So I told her we had to go back to the way we were before the summer. I mean, don't lie, you know at least Ron would have thrown some punches my way if he knew."
"I guess you're right," Harry said slowly, and somewhat reluctantly.
"But it was stupid because I should have taken the risk of my getting hurt. I'd rather get hurt and protect Hermione and be with her than protect her and be without her. I wanted to tell her this and now..." Draco felt something strange collect in the corners of his eyes. Was he...was he crying? Oh damn it, now what will Harry think of him? This was the first time he's cried since...hell, forever and he picks the time to start now? What was the matter with him?
"What are you going to do now? You heard what Madame Pomfrey said. We could see if somehow the process is reversible but I think she made it pretty clear that it was up to Hermione to decide."
"I think...I think it's for the best," Draco finally said. "If I've hurt her so much that she's...erased me from her memory, fine then. She won't be hurt anymore. She can start over, start going out of people again without thinking of me." Harry stared at Draco for a minute then punched him.
"Harry! What the hell was that for?" Draco rubbed his arm.
"For acting like a self-sacrificing martyr. If you love her Draco, you have to get her back. You can't wallow in self-pity thinking you did a noble thing because the only thing you can do now is to convince her that you love her and that she still loves you."
"What?" Draco looked at Harry with disbelief.
"I swear to God, Draco, you'll regret it if you don't." Draco shook his head, not at what Harry was saying, but hoping that somehow the physical movement could clear his head. Was that right? Was it right to march back and disturb Hermione's peace just so he could have his love? But if she loved him too, would it be worth it? She had to, if he loved her, he couldn't give up, not like this.
"Okay," Draco said slowly. "Okay I'll do it." Harry nodded.
"And that's what I wanted to hear."
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Ron watched Harry collide with Draco and he watched the two boys talk. He felt slightly forlorn. Where did he fit in the world now? In his circle of friends? Harry promised him that they would be closer than ever, when he first started seeing Ginny. But Harry wasn't. It wasn't even because of Ginny. Harry was falling deeper and deeper into himself each year.
All Ron could do was watch helplessly as each year Harry withdrew from everyone further. Ron could remember when Harry used to talk to him and tell him things and now whenever Ron even tried to ask Harry how he was feeling, he felt as though he was giving his best friend an interrogation. But why wasn't Harry opening up to him any more? Wasn't that what best friends are for? Isn't he still Harry's best friend?
What had happened to the trio? Harry, Hermione, and him, cruising through the hallways of Hogwarts in another one of their adventures, some made up, others real with stakes higher than any of them ever imagined. But that was the problem. Harry started realizing the stakes and he realized what he had to do continuously and he literally had to save the wizarding world single handedly more than once.
Ron wanted to tell Harry it was okay to cry sometimes and that it was okay to depend on his friends for strength. When Harry cried silently or mumbled things in his sleep at night, Ron wanted to wake him up, give him some Butterbeer, and ask him what was the matter. He would have if they were still in their first-year but what were they now?
Ron lingered at the doorway a little bit longer, wondering if Harry and Draco were going to fight and wondered if Harry would need his help if they did. But the conversation didn't seem to be spiteful. It seemed the exact opposite. Ron hesitated just a little while longer, then resigned himself to knowing that he was no longer Harry's best friend. He couldn't help Harry the way he wanted to. Ginny could help, so could Hermione, hell, it looked as though even Draco Malfoy might be able to help his friend. But then why couldn't he? What had he done wrong that everyone else seemed to have done right?
Ron turned away and headed for the Gryffindor common room. Maybe there were some people there who would want to play wizarding chess or something else. Maybe there was a way that he could feel a little bit less wretched.
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"Hey, Harry was really worried about you, we all were," Ginny said, surprisingly serious. There was enough room for Ginny to sit on the bed as well but she wasn't sitting still. She kept banging her heel against the side of the bed, looking anxious.
"You really like him, don't you," Hermione said, studying Ginny's face. Whenever Ginny spoke of Harry, she did so in a careful manner. She talked about him in a way that Hermione hadn't seen her talk about any other guy.
"I think I do," Ginny said, hesitantly.
"That's good. You're good for him. You make him smile, you know. He doesn't do that often anymore," Hermione said. Madame Pomfrey gave a warning glance to Ginny for sitting on the bed but gave both girls a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
"Do you really remember nothing of Draco?"
"Who? The blonde boy?" Hermione asked.
"You spent the summer with him, Hermione."
"We...did? I don't quite remember the summer either," Hermione said carefully. "Were we family friends?" Ginny snorted.
"Hardly. It's very Romeo and Juliet, what happened." Hermione looked dubious.
"Well, maybe what's forgotten should stay that way," Madame Pomfrey said, over her shoulder, as she tended to another student who had passed out, from a spell gone awry. Ginny jumped, as though she hadn't realized that anyone else was in the room.
"Maybe," Hermione whispered. Ginny hugged Hermione and promised her that she'd be back during her lunch break. Madame Pomfrey wasn't letting Hermione leave the infirmary for another week at least. According to her, Hermione was in an extremely sensitive state and the influx of emotions and sights and sounds would irritate her still healing mind and may have a harmful effect.
When Ginny had left, Hermione tried her hardest to remember who that blonde boy was. Draco Malfoy they called him. Hermione didn't know him; that was for sure. But...but she just couldn't help feeling a pull towards him. It was small but sure. Hermione felt a connection with him that she couldn't quite deny. There was something comforting about him and, at the same time, something a little dangerous. Hermione turned her head and closed her eyes and just before she fell asleep, a fleeting thought crossed her mind in a very languid sort of way, only to be forgotten again the minute it passed. I really missed him.
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