Chapter Two: present day
"Hello, Hermione," Draco whispered as he knelt before her. He held his breath as he searched her eyes for any sign of welcome. He had been watching her for hours – enchanted by the joyous intensity with which she planted in her garden, mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked into her house at the completion of her task, and totally undone by the curves she unwittingly displayed as she stretched to the sky before assuming her place under the tree to read a little while later.
It had taken far longer than he thought it would to gather the courage to speak to her. The years had added to her beauty tenfold and he had been tongue-tied at first sight of her this morning. Not that he hadn't seen her at all in the last ten years. He had. But his glimpses had been sporadic and had always been from afar as he couldn't risk revealing himself to her. And now that he had…he prayed she would understand.
"Hermione," he coaxed again as he observed the slight shake of her head. Her lips had formed a small "o" and he found himself suddenly straining to keep from touching them with his own. Merlin, she was gorgeous! The memories he held of that night fifteen year ago were stirring his heart as well as his blood.
"No," her thoughts finally found quiet voice. Surprised from his reverie, he watched her carefully as she fully composed her face in the span of a moment. "I'm sorry," she said as gracefully as she could, "but you must be mistaken. No one by that name lives here."
This gave Draco pause. He knew that Dumbledore had helped her to change her life ten years back. No more wizarding world. No more magic. No more contact. But he hadn't altered her memory, had he?
"Hermione," he started, but she interrupted him again.
"You are lost, perhaps?" she asked sweetly, trying to play her part. How had Malfoy found her? Dumbledore couldn't have told him. He swore he wouldn't contact her again unless it was a matter of life and death. He had promised to come to her himself if that were ever the case. Otherwise her location passed with him forever. Unless… Was he injured? Or worse? Could he have sent Malfoy to her in his place? No! Draco Malfoy would never have gained Dumbledore's trust again. Not after that horrible night. Of this Hermione was sure. Which left only one option: Lucius Malfoy had finally tracked her down and Draco was here under his orders.
She remembered vividly that fateful day ten years ago. Three years after the battle – during which time Hermione had completed her Hogwarts education and auror training – she joined her friends in the Order. Together they worked over the next two years to bring about the end of the Death Eater regime. And she had been a key player. It had been her information, which uncovered the Death Eater's lair. It had been her information, which led them there at the very time they would be gathered as a group in planning their next move. It had been her information because she had been the one tailing the every move of Draco Malfoy. And remembering those horribly dark and painful years was not something Hermione wanted to do again.
The capture was relatively quick and few lives were lost on either side as the Order had planned the attack well. It should have been a time of celebration and relief for Hermione, but the following day Lucius Malfoy escaped from the Ministry while awaiting transport to Azkaban. Hermione knew Lucius would seek his revenge on her…revenge for the downfall of his Dark Lord, revenge for the end of the Death Eater regime and revenge for the magical night she spent with his precious son five years earlier. So she said goodbye to those she loved and went to Dumbledore who kindly helped her leave it all behind. No more contact. No more magic. No more life as she knew it.
It had been a lonely and painful readjustment. But she had finally reached a good place in her life. And now everything was for naught – for Draco Malfoy, her first only love, was here under his father's orders to hurt her, probably even to kill her. And she was totally defenseless without the wand she had chosen to pack away ten years ago. The bitter irony of the situation was not wasted on Hermione.
Draco watched a moment of fear flick across Hermione's face before being replaced by a cool composure once more. Although he shouldn't have been, he was surprised by this. Whatever she felt for him after that fateful day and after all of this time – loathing, ambivalence – he never expected fear. Despite everything that had happened – everything he allowed her to think had happened – he couldn't believe she would actually fear him. Not after what they had shared. And yet, that was exactly what he saw.
Hermione pasted a smile on her lips and thought fast. If only she could get back to her house…confuse or distract him in some way. She knew she could get to her concealed wand and defend herself properly. Either that or detain him long enough to get past the apparation wards on her property. But getting that far without raising suspicion would not be easy. And the chances of him just letting her waltz away were slim to none. So she acted on Gryffindor instinct and stood quickly, nearly knocking him over in the process.
"You look weary. It is terribly warm in the sun this afternoon." She feigned concern as if for a stranger before she started to walk toward her house, praying that she could keep her steps even. "The main road is nearly a mile up my drive. Did you have car trouble? Did someone drop you here by mistake?" She forced a lightness into her voice. "It's no problem, really. I'm happy to let you use my phone." She nearly stumbled as she rambled on. "And perhaps a glass of lemonade will refresh you?" She knew he followed her. A silent prayer and a deep breath kept her knees from buckling as she focused on her door. "Feel free to sit on the lounge there in the shade while I get what you need," she continued to him. "I won't be more than a moment." And to herself she whispered almost there over and over again with each step.
To say that Draco was confused about Hermione's actions would be mild. He knew she had to have recognized him. He knew she was lying – unless something really had happened to her mind or her memory during her absence from their world. But years of competition with her in school reassured him of one thing: she was far from careless, whatever her motive. And he knew if she got into her house, she would be as good as gone.
"Wait!" he practically shouted as she reached for her door handle. Any relief Hermione had been about to experience vanished in the instant he grabbed her arm and turned her around. The combination of his searing touch and her palpable fear sent her blood pressure through the roof. She met his eyes as the roaring grew to a deafening pitch in her ears. Memories of forbidden passion, cruel death and gut-wrenching loss whipped through her like a tornado. It was more than she could bear.
"Draco," was all she managed to utter in a painfully small and hurt voice. And then, like any good Gryffindor, she improvised with Plan B – and tried to think quickly about how to turn this dreadful situation to her advantage before she fainted dead away.