Walking Along Memory Lane

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, insignia and stuff are owned by J.K. Rowling and not by me. I also do not own the Broadway musical CATS or the song "Memory". It is just the inspiration for this chapter.

Summary: Draco is involved in a terrible accident and falls into a coma. A few years later, he wakes up with amnesia. Plagued by dreams of a certain brunette, whom everyone by now thinks is a widow; he decides to get on with his life in search for his identity. DM/HG

Chapter Five

Blonde Meets Brunette

Memory

Midnight. Not a sound at the pavement.

Has the moon lost her mem'ry?

She is smiling alone

In the lamplight the withered leave

Collect at my feet and the wind begins to moan.

Memr'y.

All alone in the moonlight

I can smile at the old days, I was beautiful then.

I remember the time I knew what happiness was,

Let the memr'y live again.

Damn… damn… damn

Devon ran out of the Leaky Cauldron and to the streets of Diagon Alley.

Damn… damn… damn… She must be near – where?

He ran aimlessly, not a care in the world – be it the cold whipping air or the fact that it was way past curfew, not that he had one. All he cared about now is the brunette and finding her before it was too late.

He panted and gasped for his breath. Devon was now at the center of the Alley. He closed his eyes and listened.

Devon's eyes snapped open. He heard a moan all right – but it wasn't the wind. He dashed once more to where he felt he heard the moan. He ran rather pointlessly, or so it seemed.

He stopped short. In front of him was a sight he never thought he would see – the brunette. Then again, it was also a sight he never wanted to see.

The brunette was held against a wall by a dark figure.

Devon could see tears on the brunette's face glisten in the pale moonlight as her attacker proceeded to grope at her body shamelessly. Only moans of pain and hatred were heard from her silent lips – a spell has been cast upon her. The dark figure began to push her more to the rough grimy wall as he had his hands on the clasp of her skirt.

Devon felt his blood boil.

How dare that man…

Before the assailant of the woman could even turn around, he was knocked on the ground by a powerful hex cast by Devon. Yet the hex was not powerful enough to make the hooded figure unconscious. As the brunette slid down the wall and fainted down in a heap on the pavement, Devon rushed to her side to catch her. Seeing Devon distracted, the attacker made good and disapparated from the sight.

The chocolate eyes of the brunette fluttered open for a moment as she barely mumbled her thanks to her savior and fell limp in his arms.

Devon checked her pulse and breathing. It was slightly irregular, while her breathing was short and ragged.

Getting up with the woman in his arms, he ran once more, but now in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.

Odd…

There was something about this woman that made him stronger. Something about his memory began to gear into place, yet it was still blurry. Though, he remembers that there was once a time of his happiness and contentment.

Shaking his head, Devon turned his eyes to the woman.

Must be the right brunette… Knockturn Alley…

Devon read the sign he just past by.

What in the world is this woman doing at Knockturn Alley at this time of the night?

Shrugging all thoughts aside, he focused his energy on bringing the distressed damsel in his arms away from harm.

He gasped as he finally caught view of the welcoming sign of the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes. It took awhile for her eyes to grow accustomed to the brightness of the room, due to the sunlight from the window.

Three words began to echo in her mind.

Where am I? Where am I? Where am I…?

Her eyes lingered at every detail of the room as she tried to determine where she was.

The room has a country touch to it. Everything was wooden.

The walls were made from dark wood and the windowsills from a light colored wood. The bed she was laying on was made from wood and has rather comfortable pillows. There were two mahogany side tables on each side of the bed. At the left side of the room was a door.

Possibly leading to a bathroom, Hermione thought.

Beside that door was a handsome mahogany closet. At her right, Hermione saw a very organized mahogany desk. Somewhere near the foot of the bed was another door with an old brass doorknob.

Wait a minute… This is not my room!

Hermione bolted upright and pain seared at her head and she was forced to lie down once more. She groaned.

Last night's memories came back to her…

Sending the articles to the press… Apparating… Someone grabbing her from behind…

Hermione shivered at the memory.

Someone with yellow teeth shoving her to the wall…

And then he came.

Hurriedly, Hermione glanced down at her body.

She sighed – she was not naked. Then she realized that her savior, being a righteous man, would not have probably taken advantage of her anyway. And then she froze.

These aren't my clothes either.

Hermione was wearing a green silk bathrobe over her undergarments.

It's not that this isn't comfortable…

She relaxed into the smooth sheets of the bed. Who ever this man was, he made her feel safe.

Her wristwatch beeped and ruined her contented silence.

Hermione looked at it and found a message from Joan.

"Hey Mom, I miss you. I just wanted to tell you that we had double Potions a while ago and that according to Andrei: SNAPE IS A BLOODY GIT! Anyway, he still likes to take points off Gryffindor, but currently does not have favorite students. James reckons it's because Snape wants me to be his favorite but the thing is I'm not in Slytherin. So anyway, Transfiguration is the next subject. Bye, Mom. Love you, take care! –Joan."

The watch flashed and it showed the time.

Bloody…

Hermione inwardly cursed as she got up. She was very much late for work. She looked over at the desk and found a note written in regal script and green ink.

"To Miss Brunette"

Hermione took the note and sat on her bed as she read it.

"Dear Miss,

I shall be back in a matter of time. Please make yourself comfortable. On accounts of last night, I assure you, you are fine. I had asked for a healer to examine you and she was the one who dressed you last night. Please feel free to take your time and refresh yourself at the bathroom. There are several robes that might suit you inside the closet. I have also asked the healer to buy lingerie for you; it is on one of the towels in the bathroom. I have taken the liberty to buy you appropriate clothes and am currently away with that in mind. Please wait for me downstairs and have breakfast. Tell kind Mr. Tom to bill it to the resident of Room 435.

P.S. Don't worry, Miss, I have covered all expenses for your stay at Leaky Cauldron."

Feeling more secured, Hermione placed the note on the side table and headed to the closet to get a robe and prepare for a quick shower.

When she was done, Hermione came down the stairs with a black robe on her. She approached the counter and waited for Tom the bartender to come out of the kitchen.

"Eh, Hermione! Good morning! What can I do for you?" Tom greeted when he emerged from the swinging doors.

"Good morning Tom! Do you have any Floo powder there? I need to communicate to my secretary."

"Why, of course, there – at the bucket that's hung by the nail beside the fireplace. Yes, that one." Tom pointed out to her.

"Thanks."

Hermione went and knelt down at the floor in front of the fireplace and she negotiated with her secretary that she was not going to work that day.

Devon sighed contently as he paid for his purchase. It took him about an hour to find the 'perfect' outfit for the woman and yet he was very good-natured despite of his lack of sleep. He had slept very late and on the floor too.

He hummed a happy tune as he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet the brunette.

Hermione was seated at a table by the window as she waited for Tom to bring her breakfast.

Tom finally came and laid plates of sunny side up, rice, butter, bread, hotdogs and bacon. He also had an assistant beside him to place a teapot of hot water and a tray of condiments with containers filled with coffee, milk, cream and sugar. He even placed a vase with a single rose in it.

"Tom! I-I-I didn't order these." Hermione managed to stutter, as she was shocked. "I'm afraid this is the wrong table. I only ordered a cup of coffee."

Tom smiled at her, eyes twinkling. "I recall that you said to bill this to the resident of 435, didn't you?"

"Yes I did, but what does it go to do with-?"

Tom laughed. "Mr. Black is the resident of that room and I had strict orders to disregard any orders from his guest and," He gestured to the plates. "Serve these instead."

Hermione could only gawk.

"Now, now, Hermione, it's rude to stare." Tom continued, grinning. "So I see you are Devon's friend." He turned serious. "Are you all right now? What in the world were you doing at Knockturn Alley at that time anyway?"

"Knockturn Alley?" Hermione replied quietly. Knockturn Alley is popular for its shady personalities and Dark Magic shops.

"Yes. That's where Devon found you last night. Don't worry; nothing bad happened to you. The healer made sure you weren't to suffer from trauma or anything permanent."

"Um, Tom, what's the name of my 'hero' again?"

"Devon, Devon Black."

"Is he related to-?"

"He says he is not, or shall I say, isn't sure."

"How can he not be sure? The Blacks are few in number due to their pureblooded mania, as Sirius once said."

"I say, Hermione," Tom motioned his assistant to go ahead to the kitchens and he lowered his voice. "Devon Black is a rather mysterious character. I don't understand him quite yet, new in town and has quite a blurry memory. Claims it was from an accident from his last work. Currently, he is jobless and that's the reason that brought him here – he's searching for a safe job."

A bell above the door tinkled, signaling the arrival of a customer.

Tom straightened up.

"Ah, Devon. You're back. Hermione is now awake."

Devon approached the table hesitantly.

"Now, Devon, no need to be shy," The old wizard said. "I'll be leaving you two now." He winked at Hermione as he left.

Devon stood and Hermione sat in silence as they looked at each other.

Devon just coolly stared at Hermione; he was already familiar to how she looked like by now. His dreams the night before weren't that tiring or blurry anymore. He could finally see how the brunette, Hermione, did Tom say, looked like. Nevertheless, Devon never seemed to tire of scrutinizing her. She had her mop of bushy brown hair in tied in a messy ponytail; her chocolate brown eyes were gazing questioningly at him; and his black robe hung loosely on her figure. Devon smirked to himself, of course, that robe was his – fit for a man, not a woman. All in all, she was stunning in his eyes.

Meanwhile Hermione was looking at how Devon looked like. He had that pale blonde hair that was combed back, thus showing more of his pale forehead. His features were rather rounded yet elegant in way. He did not have that pointy chin that Hermione was more accustomed to seeing on a certain blonde man.

Then again, Devon couldn't be Draco, could he? Hermione told herself as she mentally shook her head. What's going on Hermione? Joan must be polluting my head too much with her father figure wishes.

She breathed deeply and focused her eyes once more to the blonde man in front of her.

He smirked at her.

Hermione gasped.

The eyes, I have to check the eyes.

And she began to think of those gray orbs that she usually lost herself into – years ago, that is.

She stopped daydreaming and looked straight into his-

Blue eyes?