Draco wasn't certain how much more his heart could take.

Over a week had passed since he had last seen Granger, and a resigned certainty had settled within him that he never would again.

Despite his best efforts at work, his mind had been pulled in so many directions he couldn't even tell what he was doing most of the time anymore. He could see the strain in Potter's face when Draco struggled in their training sessions. When he failed trial after trial―and when Potter consistently bested him in duels.

And now, he stared across the desk from Healer Brooks, the shredded, devastated remains of his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

"What exactly are you saying?" he breathed.

An apologetic grimace drew at the man's face. "You know your mother's condition hasn't improved. We're going to have to bring her into an intensive ward to begin a new phase of treatment. And if nothing changes... I'm sorry to say Mister Malfoy, but you might need to start considering other outcomes. Be sure your mother's affairs are in order."

Other outcomes.

Draco's head whirled and spun; a breath jammed in his throat as his heart raced in his chest.

"I'm given to understand your father is incarcerated?" The healer went on as though the remains of Draco's life weren't shattered and strewn across the floor. "Your mother has requested a visitation with him, and though the situation is a little unorthodox, we'll do our best to arrange something with the DMLE―"

Draco scrunched his eyes shut, the words echoing through his skull with a clamour. For years, he had done his best to avoid any mention of his father. He hadn't been to visit Lucius in Azkaban since he was nineteen.

"I'll talk to Head Auror Robards," he said, the words hollow as they fell from his lips. "If the situation is... as you say it is."

"We are doing our best to find an appropriate course for your mother's treatment," Brooks said, "but the condition is so rare and so poorly understood, and she's declining. We can only remediate her symptoms for so long, and the experimental treatments are not without their negative drawbacks."

"So figure it out," Draco ground through his teeth, anxiety swelling within his chest. "I don't care how many galleons you have to throw at this."

Pity shone in the man's eyes, and Draco hated him for it; hated himself for being so damn useless. "I have consulted healers around the world. I promise you we are doing everything we can."

Draco wrenched a hand through his hair, panic growing within him and threatening with a blur at the edges of his vision. "Fine," he breathed, clenching his jaw into a line so hard his teeth ground together.

He didn't know what else to say or do. His whole world had come together in a collision of tumult and chaos, ready to engulf him whole.

"We'll be moving your mother into the intensive ward in the morning," Brooks said, ducking his chin.

"Fine," Draco said again. "Just... let me know what I can do."

"I will."

Draco opened his mouth to say something more―to implore upon the man how important this was―

A dull ringing tone came from his bag; he froze, hands clenching the arms of his seat, and his eyes darted towards his satchel.

Healer Brooks' stare followed the sound as well. "Is that a telephone?"

"It is," Draco allowed. The ringing sounded again, his heart throbbing against the rhythm of it. "I should probably―"

"Of course." The man gestured towards the door. "I'll keep you posted."

With a thick swallow, Draco nodded and jumped to his feet, slinging the satchel over his shoulder as he made for the door. He grappled at the phone as he broke into the corridor, drawing in a deep breath of air away from the stifling office.

As it rang again, he jammed the button to answer and pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

A beat of silence hung on the line wherein Draco was painfully aware of his heartbeat. Then Hermione's soft voice. "Hi, Draco?"

"Yes."

"Is this a bad time?"

He stared down the empty hallway. "I'm just at the hospital."

"Oh, right, of course," she said, her voice a little breathy. "I'm sorry to bother you; I can―"

"It's fine." Draco couldn't handle the way her voice left him in a devastated upheaval. When she didn't say anything more, he asked, "Is everything alright?"

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

His tone softened, hand tightening on the phone. "You didn't. I was just leaving."

"Oh, right." Another awkward silence hung on the line, and Draco frowned, wondering if he'd lost the connection until she spoke again. "I only called because... I have a few questions."

"Of course." Swallowing, Draco glanced down at his watch. It was half seven on a Friday night. "I can go somewhere else if you want to talk."

"Maybe... are you free to meet? Or if you have plans, I can―"

His heart leapt even as trepidation trawled through him. "Absolutely. I can meet."

"Have you eaten?"

Draco released a long, slow breath. "I have not."


Half an hour later, Draco glanced up when Hermione settled into the seat across from him at a small cafeteria close to where she lived.

"Hi," she said, a thin smile gracing her lips that didn't quite look genuine. "Thanks for meeting me. You got here fast."

It had taken him all of sixty seconds, but he wasn't interested in breaking open another dam just yet. "Thanks for your call."

A waitress walked over to take their order before he could say anything more, and Draco allowed his gaze to linger on Granger's face for a few breaths. It felt as though it had been so much longer than a week since he had seen her. But he couldn't dare get his hopes up as to the nature of the meeting.

She turned towards him when the waitress walked away, another not-quite-sincere smile on her face. "I apologise that I didn't call you sooner. I had a few things to think over."

Draco dragged a hand along the back of his neck. "Honestly, I didn't think I would hear from you."

Although her expression faltered, she only drew a notebook from her bag and flipped to a page full of tidy print. "I was hoping you might answer a few questions I have."

"Shit," Draco breathed, gazing at the list. Her lips twitched a little, and despite himself, he snickered. "This is no less than I would have expected from you."

Her stare haunted him for a moment. "It's very strange to think that you know so much more about me than I do. Either about you or myself."

"I can imagine." He ducked his chin, staring at her. "I'm sorry―that I didn't tell you sooner."

"Please don't," she breathed.

Draco leaned back in his seat. So it was to be a distant, pragmatic sort of meal. "Go ahead with your questions, then."

"You claim Draco and Hermione met at private school when they were eleven," she began, reading from her notes, then her eyes snapped up to his. "What was the school, and why was Hermione sent there?"

He stared at her, a breath snagging on its way from his lungs. "It was a prestigious school for gifted youth," he allowed.

Luckily, she nodded but didn't press. "Very interesting. And why did Draco and Hermione not get along?"

Draco felt a hint of humour tug at his lips. He wanted to laugh at her third-person line of questioning, but he sobered with the recognition that she didn't relate to Hermione Granger any more than he ever had. "We―they―were in rival houses. It started out simply enough, but as the years passed, it escalated―far more than it should have."

Her eyes lingered on him, a flicker of pain in their depths. "You said Draco was prejudiced against Hermione. Why?"

He released a long, rattling breath. "Draco was raised to believe that others of a certain station were beneath him," he said softly. "And it took some challenging circumstances for him to question those beliefs."

"And is that why Draco didn't want to tell Hermione the truth?"

The question was a stake through the heart.

"At first, Draco didn't know what to make of the situation," he said quietly. "He―I was so baffled by the fact that you didn't remember me, and then... it felt easier. You looked at me like you cared what I had to say, and I didn't know what to make of that." Drawing in another deep breath, he caught her eyes. "I knew if you remembered me, you would want nothing to do with me. But every time I saw you, I became more interested, and I didn't want you to walk away."

A breath fell from her lips. "And how did that work out for you?"

"Miserably," he bit out. "Obviously. Look, Granger... I think I knew it wouldn't work out. I know so much about you, and you don't know half as much. I've never deserved your attention, and I don't now, either."

"I quite liked you," she breathed. "As you were." His heart clenched at the thought. "So either you've been pretending to be someone you aren't, or you don't give yourself enough credit."

Draco held up a hand in supplication, curling his fingers. "Jagged edges and all."

"Next question," she whispered, "what do you know about my memory loss?"

It was the most loaded question to answer so far because magic existed at the root of it—the spell on her parents and the subsequent magical damage that had occurred within her. But even so, Draco didn't know how any of it had actually happened.

"Not much," he confessed, frowning. "When I spoke to a specialist, he suggested that if your memories are still in there somewhere, the best way to stir them out is gradual―reminders of the past, that sort of thing. It's why I had hoped something might click after our last conversation."

He didn't have to mention the fact that their conversation had gone terribly.

Granger only shook her head. "I've spent a week thinking about what you told me almost non-stop, and I can't say anything's come rushing in. What if the memories are just truly gone?"

"Then this won't have done anything."

Her eyes drifted back down towards her notebook, but Draco could see the defeat in the lines of her brow. "For years," she whispered, "I thought something might eventually come back. And I can't afford to hope anymore; I can't take the letdown again." She blew out a long breath, thinning her lips. "This experience has shown me that maybe it's time I just accept that I'm never going to remember all the things I used to know and finally try to move forward with my life. So I'm going to ask that you allow me the chance to let go."

From someone who had always craved and sought knowledge in all its forms, the words were surprising. But it was ultimately her decision to make.

"If that's what you want," Draco said quietly, "I won't try anything more."

Her eyes were glassy, a poor effort at a smile on her lips. "Thank you."

The waitress delivered their food, but Draco no longer felt any semblance of an appetite. He didn't know where any of this left them―or if she even wanted him around anymore. Maybe he simply served as a reminder of the life she had lost.

He picked at his sandwich and chips as they ate in silence. Granger tucked her notebook away, her expression pensive, and the last lingering vestiges of hope in Draco's heart sloughed away to realise he would no longer have any connection to her. Furthermore, he would have to be the one to tell Potter of her decision. Somehow, Draco suspected that would go badly.

Unable to finish the last of his meal, Draco sank back in his seat. "Was there anything else you cared to discuss tonight?"

Granger broke one of her chips in half as she stared at her plate. "I'm not sure," she mused, "because I can't tell if I want to know any more or if that will only make it more difficult to walk away." Her eyes lifted to meet his across the table. "And... I'm just trying to determine how best to proceed from here."

Draco gave a stiff nod. From everything she had said, it sounded as though there would be no place for them anymore. A suspicion he had almost convinced himself to accept over the past week―but seeing her again spurred an ember of hope that hadn't yet been extinguished.

"I hope whatever you decide," he murmured, "you do so with peace."

Her chocolate eyes were wide. "Thank you." Fidgeting with the spoon at her place setting, she released a breath. "Is there anything else I should know? Anything important?" Her eyes fell shut for a moment. "Please be honest."

As he eyed her, his brain whirring, he considered the question. More than once, he had inferred the existence of magic, and she hadn't believed him. And truthfully, it was something she ought to know, even though it could potentially blow away the gradual effort.

But in case they never saw one another again, was it fair to let her know? He wasn't sure.

Her stare implored the truth, however, and Draco managed a thick swallow.

"I suppose there's one more thing you ought to know," he said quietly, meeting her eye. He had never told anyone about the existence of magic―primarily since he had only run in magical circles growing up―and he didn't know the best way to go about it.

Granger's brows lifted, expectant. "Yes?"

Draco swept a hand through his hair, grinding his teeth together. "I don't know if you're going to believe this, and I can't force you, but... you should know that magic is real."

Her lips parted with a soft intake of breath, her chin low and eyes wide, and for several long beats, she simply stared at him. Then a gentle smile curved her lips, and she shook her head. "You really think you're funny, don't you? I don't know what it is with you and magic, but I'll humour you for now."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You can believe what you like. I'm only letting you know."

"That's like asking me to believe that you can tell my future by the dregs in a cup of tea," she breathed, bemusement lingering on her face.

Draco was suddenly reminded of the way Granger had refused to take Divination past third year―that she had vocally given up on the course―and he wasn't surprised she was so resistant to the idea of magic.

"Divination is a valid branch of magic," Draco mused. "When practised by a proper Seer."

Granger tittered. "You have a strange sense of humour, Draco, but who am I to suggest you can't believe what you believe."

He interlocked his hands across his front. "Very well, then. I don't have anything else I can think of at the moment."

"Suppose magic is real," she pressed, humour still dancing in her eyes. "What context are you inferring through our discussion?"

"That I have magic," Draco said, brandishing a hand, "and so do you."

Her brows dropped, face scrunched up in consternation. "That's a bit of a ridiculous thing to say, isn't it? If you've got magic, show me something magical."

"I can't. We're in public."

"Ahh." Her lips twitched with the effort to withhold a laugh. "Of course."

A banal smile drifted across his lips. "Like I said―I can't force you to believe anything I'm saying."

After a belated beat, the warmth fell from her face, replaced with uncertainty. "Anyway. I suppose it isn't something I'm concerned with one way or the other tonight. All I care about at the moment is setting my life straight and moving on." An apologetic grimace pulled at her lips. "And I don't know where that leaves us."

"Right," Draco muttered, glancing away. Warmth crept up into his face, and a thick lump accumulated in his throat. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen it coming―she hadn't spoken to him in over a week―but a part of him had still clung to the thought that something had started to blossom between them. Something real and something worthwhile. "If that's your decision, then I won't bother you again."

Despair pulled at her brows as she stared at him across the table, her face faltering. "That isn't what I said."

He looked up, clenching his jaw into a hard line. "Look, Granger, I don't want to be the reason you can't get your feet underneath you. Don't get me wrong―I think you're great, and I've really enjoyed getting to know you."

The skin around her eyes tightened, but her gaze never left his.

"And," he pressed on with a shallow breath, "I thought there was something here between us. But I can understand if you have no interest in pursuing that any longer."

Granger averted her stare at last, and Draco wasn't certain what to make of the pause that hung between them. "I thought so, too." She drew in an unsteady breath. "I don't know exactly what I want right now, and I don't want to make you any undue promises." After another tense moment, she dropped her hand atop his, giving his fingers a squeeze. "But I can't ignore what I've felt while getting to know you. I have more questions, but for now, I don't think I want the answers."

Although Draco wasn't entirely certain what she was getting at, he couldn't help the way his heart stuttered in his chest at the words. He took her smaller hand into his and breathed, "I can wait."

Even if this path led to hurt and ruin, he didn't know how to walk away now.

"Okay," she breathed, snagging her lower lip between her teeth when her eyes flitted back to his at last. "I do know one thing."

At the intrigue behind her words, Draco's lips pulled into a smirk. "What's that?"

A smile drifted across her face in return, the sparkle in her eye the most genuine he had seen from her all night. "Your down dog needs a lot of work," she said quietly.

A bark of laughter fell from his lips. "Granger, every one of my poses needs work. Is that your way of inviting me to your yoga class tomorrow?"

"Maybe." Her face softened. "You weren't there last week."

"I didn't think I would be welcome."

A flicker of sadness chased through her countenance, and she offered a half-hearted shrug. "I've struggled to wrap my head around all of this if I'm honest."

"I don't blame you."

She hadn't extracted her hand from within his, and Draco grazed the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm curious," she mused, "why do you call me Granger?"

"It's your name," he said.

Her eyes tightened. "My surname."

Snickering, he shook his head slowly. "I don't know. It's what I've always called you; we weren't friendly, so we never referred to one another by our given names. It was the inverse as well, by the way. Hearing you call me Draco was surreal at first."

"And you call Harry by his surname as well? Even now that you know him better?"

"Right." He lifted a brow, considering the thought. "Although he's just an arse who likes to give me a hard time."

She tittered a little, then sobered. "At any rate, I suppose I'm not ready to walk away just yet, but... once I've fully processed all of this, I think it'll be time to move on with my life."

Draco still wasn't entirely certain whether that plan included him in any fashion, but he wasn't of a mind to walk away while she didn't mind keeping him around. Because at this point, he had little else worth holding onto―and she made him feel the warmth of which every other aspect of his life had grown devoid.

He ducked his chin, releasing a breath through his nose as he ground his jaw. "I'm happy to support you however you want to proceed."

"Alright," she whispered.

The slight shimmer of hope that washed over him made Draco think that perhaps he hadn't completely ruined everything just yet.


Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter.

Come hang out with me on twitter: indreamsink

As always, alpha and beta love to Kyonomiko and FaeOrabel, respectively.