Chapter Four: present day
"Bloody hell," choked Draco as he caught Hermione in his arms, her glass crashing with her book to the steps of her porch. Now what? He lifted her and cradled her against his chest before managing to get her door open. Merlin, her hair smelled just as sweet as he remembered! Awkwardly, he squeezed them both through the narrow opening and kicked the door shut behind them. Quickly he headed straight down the hall and found himself in a bright, sunny living room. Carefully he placed Hermione on the big squashy couch and removed his robe to lay it over her.
Kneeling down beside her he gently caressed her cheek in an attempt to wake her. He noticed her dark hair made her face seem even paler than it should. But she was breathing so he figured she would come to in a moment. He sighed. At least one of his questions had been answered. She did know him after all. He stifled a shudder of remorse as he recalled the sound of her voice before she lost consciousness. He knew he was the cause of her hurt. And he regretted it. But why in the world had she fainted? It was completely out of character for her. And it was not in his plan! Now what was he to do? Wait, he supposed.
After staring at her peaceful face for a moment more, he stood to stretch his limbs and found himself looking around the room. Light, spacious, comfortable and practical. In addition to plants and matching squashy chairs with end tables, she had a desk in one corner surrounded by a number of tall, narrow shelves filled with books. He grinned. Hermione had always had a passion for reading. He looked closer at the titles and found, to his surprise, that there was not a single wizarding text among them. Odd.
He turned around to more closely inspect the room. Pictures, pictures, pictures…where were her pictures? He found a small one of her parents on her fireplace mantel and one of her as a small child on an end table. But no pictures of Potter or Weasley or anyone from the wizarding world. Odder still.
Fascinated by her home, Draco began to wander from room to room. Muggle bathroom, muggle bedroom (again, no pictures), muggle laundry room. He couldn't find anything magical at all. Even though he knew to expect it, he wondered how in the world she had managed without magical conveniences all of these years? More importantly, the absence of any pictures led him to wonder why she had gone to so much trouble to make herself forget about their magical world. He passed by her again and noticed that she hadn't moved a muscle since he laid her down. "Not a good sign," he said aloud. "Perhaps some water…" He exited to what he supposed was the kitchen. Again, all muggle. It was depressing.
He located a glass and filled it with water. He took a small sip himself and turned from the sink just in time to stifle a small yelp as a large ginger cat rubbed up against his leg. "Oh, hello, there," he said as he bent to stroke the cat. "You gave me quite a scare. Where have you been hiding?" The cat merely rubbed against him again and then sauntered to the back door where she begged with a meow to be let out. Draco laughed.
"You know, you remind me of Hermione's old cat, Crookshanks," he mused softly. He walked slowly toward the door as the cat scratched at the casing. "He was a menace, but she loved him to pieces." The cat looked thankfully up at him as he opened the door. He gave a small chuckle as he watched it saunter leisurely into the sunlight as if it had no care in the world. With a shake of his head he closed the door and turned to the living room once more. A cry of frustration escaped his lips as he realized his own stupidity. Hermione was no longer on the couch…and the cat he had just allowed to escape was now bolting away from the house as fast as it could!