Every part of him froze to ice as Hermione's words swirled around his head; for a moment, Draco thought he might succumb to the bile rising in the back of his throat.

"You... what?" he breathed. He could feel Potter's stare lingering hard on the side of his face but refused to look up; he paced several steps away and lowered his voice. "Harry Potter."

A bit of a sniffle came across the line. "I... it's familiar, but I can't quite―I'm sorry, Draco."

His heart clamoured in his chest, racing as though intent on a destination he couldn't see, and his thoughts became a blur. "I'm coming over. I'll be right there."

"Draco, wait―"

Head ringing, Draco ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. His chest heaved a little when he turned back towards Potter, a dull throb beginning behind his temple. "I've got to go―something's up with Hermione."

"Malfoy, what the hell?" Potter hissed. "What's happened? I'm coming with you."

"You're working," he bit out. "I'll send you an owl as soon as I know."

Before Potter could stop him, Draco paced for the department's emergency Apparition point; fear lanced through him as he Apparated into her flat without giving it a second thought. Although he wasn't certain she wanted him letting himself into her flat, he had at least warned her this time, and if something happened he didn't want to be stuck in the corridor waiting for entrance.

Her sitting room was empty, the whole flat eerily quiet, and Draco could hear his own pulse hammering through his skull as he kicked off his boots.

"Hermione?"

He peered into the kitchen, panic rising within him. But she had told him she was home; he wrenched a hand through his hair when he found her in her bedroom, curled up beneath the covers. She didn't look up at his entrance, nor when he pulled back the blankets and tucked himself in beside her. Her eyes were red-rimmed when they blinked open to find his, despair heavy in the lines of her face.

"What happened?" he asked, stroking a tear from her cheekbone, then brushed a kiss against her skin. "Are you alright?"

She stared at him for a long moment in silence, and when she finally opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. More tears seeped out, sliding down her face and into the pillow; Draco's heart stung.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into his chest. Hermione quaked with a gentle tremble, her body wracked with silent sobs as she buried her face into his chest. After a minute, he could feel her tears dampen his shirt.

"I'm here," he murmured, releasing a breath into her messy curls. "I've got you."

She only cried harder, a choked sob falling from her lips. Her hands wrapped around him, half-heartedly clutching at his ribs as though she hadn't the strength for anything more. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

Never mind that she had just come from there; he felt completely helpless and at a loss.

She shook her head no―or at least he thought she did based on the movement of her face. But still, she didn't speak, as if she either couldn't or simply didn't have the heart. Draco tried to quash the anxiety brimming to the edges of himself, but he couldn't imagine pushing her to explain what had happened.

All he could do in the moment was hold her close, stroking her hair idly with his fingertips until her tears subsided into sniffles, her shorter legs entwining with his own.

"Sorry," she said, at last, the word muffled against his shirt. She sounded impossibly small.

"Don't apologise," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Will you tell me what happened?"

Her silence stoked the terror that had only grown within himself as the minutes passed; Draco's heart raced on, urging him to do something. He was so tired of watching everyone around him struggle and being unable to do anything to help.

But she only tucked herself deeper into his arms, and Draco tightened his hold, offering comfort however he could. He was phrasing a strongly-worded letter to Healer Huxley in his head when she finally spoke.

"We've always known that some aspects of the treatment won't necessarily work," she said with a sniffle. "And some things might get worse before they get better."

At her carefully placating tone, Draco felt despair wrench through him. "It shouldn't be getting worse. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No." She nuzzled her face into his front again.

"Hermione." The word fell from his lips like an exhale. "I'd like to help you."

"There isn't anything you can do." She was silent for a long time while Draco trailed his fingers along her spine, desperate for something to say. "Healer Huxley already knows. He said we'll see how it progresses by our next session. He says everything we try is one step closer to the answer."

Draco tried to see the logic in that, when obviously, whatever they had done that day didn't work, but his feelings for her shrouded his efforts. He wasn't the cognitive healer, at any rate.

His heart plummetted at her next words.

"I'm scared, Draco."

Never mind that he had been worried about her old memories never returning; he hadn't anticipated the possibility of her new memories retreating. He didn't know how to tell her that he was scared, too. After everything she had already been through, she didn't need to go through this again.

"I can't imagine how you feel," he murmured, "but I've got you. And I'm not letting anything happen to you again."

It wasn't in his control by any means, and they both knew it, but he was relieved she didn't state the thought out loud. "Can you tell me something? About Potter? I don't―I feel like I'm losing my mind. Again."

"Okay," he mused, letting his mouth linger against her forehead. "You met Harry Potter when you were eleven at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You were best friends for eight years before you went to Australia. Potter is dating my best friend, Theo Nott. He and I work together in the Auror's Office at the Ministry of Magic."

Her breathing remained even against his chest, but her fingers tapped a distracted rhythm against his back as he spoke.

"How does he look?" she asked. "Glasses?"

"Yes. He has glasses. Black hair, bright green eyes."

Hermione released a sigh. "Okay. I think... I think I can picture him. And Theo has hazel eyes and brown hair? I like his smile. His father is in prison."

Draco shifted his hold on her. "He is. Theo's father is a piece of shit. Theo's a bit of an arse, but he's the good sort, and he and Potter really care about each other." After a moment, wherein she offered a stuttered nod against his pectorals, Draco spoke again. "Potter is Teddy's godfather, my cousin; he's five and lives with my aunt―"

"Andromeda."

"Yes," Draco breathed. "Andromeda."

"Okay." At last, Hermione extracted her face from his chest but didn't shift out of his hold. Her chocolate eyes were dull and glassy, their usual warmth replaced with a vacancy he had never seen. "I think I still remember most of it; it's just... everything's a little blurry. And I can't quite tell what's true and what isn't." Her face tightened, brow furrowing as she processed the thoughts. "Like I don't know if I can trust what my mind is telling me. It's a very strange feeling."

Draco nodded, doing his best to support her when he didn't know the first thing to say. "Has Healer Huxley told you what to do if this happens?"

She shook her head. "No. Just that certain side effects will be worse than others. I don't think it's helpful to panic, but I just can't... I can't go through this all again. Especially not now that I've met you."

His chest tightened at her words. Draco didn't know what he would do if she suddenly forgot who he was or about their time together. If she forgot how much she meant to him.

"I'm here," he said, planting a kiss to her hair. "Whatever I can do, just let me know."

"Thank you for coming over," she said, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I think it helps to know that I'm not alone. Last time I was just... alone."

Draco released a heavy sigh, forcing some of his fear to melt away. There was nothing he could do for her right now other than to provide support. "You are so far from alone, Hermione."

She gnawed on her lower lip, staring at him. "And you had exciting news. About your training."

"Yeah." In light of what happened with Hermione, his conversation with Robards felt far away and oddly disconnected. "I'll be back in the Auror's Office next week. It isn't a full position yet, but it's the practical conclusion to my training. If I pass this phase, I'll be granted a full Aurorship."

Her eyes shimmered once more, but this time with happiness. "Draco, that's wonderful. I'm so proud of you."

The fear that had swelled within him when he realised something was wrong had solidified one thought in the back of his mind―that everything in his life felt more important when she was involved. He idly brushed her fringe from her eyes, tugging her closer with his other arm. "Thanks," he said, at last, letting out a long breath. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I think so. As well as can be expected, anyway." Her cheeks flushed with colour. "Sorry, I cried all over your shirt."

Draco snorted; he rolled onto his back, tugging her with him, and she peered up at him from his chest. "The shirt," he drawled, "is not my concern. You are."

Her expression softened, and she carded her fingers through his hair. "What would I do without you?"

For as much as he wracked his brain, he couldn't come up with a response that didn't either sound sarcastic or make his eyes sting. He only clutched her a little tighter, kissed her soundly on the mouth, and held her as her eyelids fluttered shut, emotionally wrought.

"Love you," he breathed into her hair as she drifted to sleep.


Potter had been noticeably subdued upon hearing about Hermione's memory lapse of him, and the reaction was more jarring than if he had simply been angry. Draco didn't know how to deal with it when Hermione was still rattled over the matter―but he could see the strain on Potter's face as well.

It was Theo who suggested they do something fun for a change.

And while Draco would have been perfectly content not going out when he thought about it, life had been heavy enough lately, and they could all use a step back from the chaos. So with a little cajoling from the others―Hermione included―Draco caved to their ideas.

On Saturday night, after her yoga class, the four of them dressed up. Hermione donned a green dress that was equal parts classy and sultry, and, combined with her tall heels, the ensemble did strange things to Draco's entire body. In an effort to avoid running into anyone they knew, Theo and Hermione conferred to select a club where the Muggle celebrities liked to frequent.

Draco and Potter both turned a blind eye to a tricky Confundus Theo cast on the doorman, and shortly thereafter, they found themselves in a private booth in one of the most posh and upscale nightclubs Draco had ever seen.

A waitress delivered a bottle of champagne and a round of drinks Draco didn't recognise, and he allowed himself to relax into the plush booth to the pulsing rhythm coming through the speakers. Groups of Muggles walked past, peering closer in case they were persons of interest, but it was preferable to the way everyone in the wizarding world stared at him as though he had somehow corrupted Potter's golden girl when they were out together.

After a long, stressful week, the drinks tasted better and flowed quicker than he could have imagined, and with Hermione at his side, he allowed some of the strain to slough from his shoulders.

A wry smile curled Draco's lips at Hermione's bright laughter while Theo shared a story from his potions apprenticeship that week, and despite his reservations, he was glad they had gone out after all. On Monday, he would return to the Auror's Office, and in a sense, it did feel like a celebration despite everything else.

"What Theo isn't telling either of you," he drawled, sipping his cocktail, "is that he managed to explode not just his own cauldron but three others in seventh year potions." He snickered, catching Theo's eye. "How he's actually got on for a mastery is beyond me."

Theo rolled his eyes and jabbed a finger into the air. "And you have failed to mention it was intentional―so technically, I'm a genius."

"Wait"―Potter interrupted―"why would you do that on purpose?"

Huffing a laugh, Theo leaned back in his seat. "It was a chain reaction targetting Smith's cauldron. Prick had it coming the way he'd been going on about Daph's arse all class." He and Draco shared a grin. "At any rate, ol' Sluggy believed it wasn't my fault, and Smith got detention for the next month."

Potter nearly choked on his champagne. "I wish I'd seen that. Smith was a right arse at our Defense club in fifth year when Umbridge fucked up the curriculum." He glanced at Hermione, opening his mouth to say something more, then offered a smile instead. "You didn't like him, either."

Draco wasn't sure if the comment would nudge against the sadness she had carried since the incident a couple of days prior, but she simply raised her glass with a grin. "Then cheers to you, Theo."

"Thank you." Theo offered a mocking bow to the table, and Potter slung an arm around his shoulders, ducking in to say something beside his ear.

Hermione's foot nudged Draco's beneath the table, but her eyes were large and innocent when he glanced sidelong at her. "Do you want to dance?" Biting her lip around a smile, she added, "Or are you one of those old money types who only knows how to dance the waltz and the foxtrot―"

"I know how to dance," he clipped, snickering as he rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows. "Never mind that I could also school your tight little arse in the foxtrot."

Her eyes shimmered in the dark lights of the club, a little glassy from the alcohol, but she wound her fingers into the silk of his tie and tugged him to his feet. Draco wrapped his arms around her in an effort to stabilise her in her heels―she was nearly as tall as he was―and planted a kiss to her jaw.

Theo and Potter spoke quietly, and Draco wasn't certain they weren't about to jump one another, so when Hermione laced their fingers together, he allowed himself to be tugged towards the dance floor.

The music grew louder, the lights darker and flashier, casting a blue sheen across Hermione's face as she pulled him flush against her and began to move to the rhythm.

It was easy to forget everything that had stacked up in his life to work against him with her in his arms, her curves soft against him. Draco had drunk enough that he didn't care about anything else, and for just a while, he indulged in the feel of her under the Muggle cover of anonymity.

He slid his hands down her spine, palming the swell of her arse, and kissed her throat as her fingers drifted along the back of his neck. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, grazing the line of her jaw with his teeth. "You always do, but"―he drew back to stare at her for a moment―"I like to see you smiling."

Hermione caught her painted bottom lip between her teeth, and her eyes brightened. "You make me smile."

The words embedded a tightness in his chest as he swallowed, a furrow lifting his brow. "It's mutual."

She swayed in his hold a little too loosely to pass as any variation of sober, wrapping her arms around his neck as she tucked into his chest. Draco clung to her and splayed his palm along the bare skin of her back, wondering whether she could feel the way his heart raced.

Her smoky eyes caught his with a flash of wickedness as she drew him in for a kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth without regard for anything else. His heart throbbed, and a groan fell from his lips when she drew back.

"Do you want to get another drink?" he asked, voice coming out huskier than he intended.

Hermione considered the question for a moment, curling her fingers around his hips when she shook her head. "Let's go for a walk."

Draco snickered. "In those shoes?"

She offered a flippant, indecisive sort of shrug. "I need to use the loo." Lacing their fingers again, she led him from the dance floor and towards the bathrooms. Draco slipped into the men's, and when he emerged, he found Theo and Potter snogging in the corner and cleared his throat.

"We're going to leave," Draco offered, cocking a brow.

Theo tugged on Potter's collar. "Us, too."

Draco snickered when Hermione returned, stumbling a little in her shoes, and looped her elbow into his. He couldn't tell whether it wasn't to keep herself standing. "Enjoy the rest of your night," he said, pulling Hermione towards the exit.

The night air was cool when they stepped outside to a crowd of people still waiting to enter the club; he shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her bare shoulders as flashbulbs went off. When they were away from everyone else, Draco cast an inconspicuous cushioning charm on her shoes, and she turned to gape at him.

"Magic is the best," she announced, folding herself into his side.

"It's alright," he said, gazing upon the night sky. "I have to admit, I never realised how much Muggles could do without it, though. Until I met you again." He hesitated and released a breath. "I've learned a lot since then."

The fresh air had cleared some of the fog from her eyes, and she smiled. "I can't imagine it's easy dating someone who's lost their memory," she said quietly, "and it means a lot to me that you're here."

His own tongue felt a little looser than usual after a few too many Muggle cocktails as they made an idle, twisting path down the road. "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be." When she only rolled her eyes, humour dancing across her face, he pulled her into his chest. "I mean it. You're easily my favourite person."

"Goodness," she tittered, her eyes landing on his mouth, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Draco jabbed her ribs with his fingertips, and she nearly lost her balance as she swatted his hands away with a bright laugh.

The streets of Muggle London were alive with energy and sound, even well into the night, and despite the chill, Draco wasn't in any rush to go elsewhere. A distant beat pulsed from another club down the road.

"I think," she said, slipping her arm through his again, "maybe you're mine, too." With another giggle, she swept a hand through his hair and mussed the careful style. "But don't let that go to your head―I don't remember most of the people I know."

Draco snickered, warmth dancing within him at the easy banter between them. "Oh, I am absolutely taking the ego boost. Hermione Granger's favourite person." He raised his hands in the air like a marquee. "That sounds fucking good."

She dissolved into a fit of laughter, burying her face into his shoulder. "You're an arse."

"I never," Draco said, pointing a finger, "claimed not to be so. It isn't my fault if you've only just discovered the depth of my arseholery."

"Arseholery." Giggling again, she swiped at her eyes.

So rarely did he allow himself more than a drink or two in public that Draco found it both disarming and freeing to simply enjoy a night out without worrying about the stares or the consequences that might follow. He trusted Theo and Potter well enough to drink with them, and he trusted Hermione with his heart. He didn't think he had ever felt that way about anyone.

"At any rate," she went on once she'd caught her breath, "I suppose you aren't that bad."

He barked a laugh. "A ringing endorsement."

Almost without realising where they were going, they'd drifted away from the bustle and towards a quieter area of town, and Draco squinted around him as he attempted to discern anything he recognised. Even with his jacket, Hermione shook with a slight shiver and leaned a little closer into him.

But before he could suggest they go home, she pulled him into a searing kiss on the pavement, her lips warm against his. Her tongue tangled with his own almost instantly, hands wrapping around his back.

Draco snickered, tugging a little at her curls as he drifted his lips along her jaw. "You're drunk."

"I'm not that drunk." A whimper fell from her lips and shot straight to his groin when he caught her earlobe between his teeth. "You should magic us to your flat, so we can have sex."

Despite himself, he released another laugh. "You're amusing like this."

She pouted a little, her chocolate eyes heated when they landed on his. "I am not," she insisted, though the effort fell a little flat when she dropped into another round of giggles. "And for the record, I would want to even if we were sober in case you're concerned about that―"

"I wasn't," he offered and pressed another kiss to her lips. Merlin, he would never get enough of her. Catching his wrist within her fingers, she dragged his hand up the flat of her stomach towards her chest, and he groaned when he palmed one breast. Smirking, he deepened the kiss. "I can't say no to you, and I don't want to."

Then he pulled her behind the nearest building and Apparated them both to his flat.

They landed directly in his bedroom, stumbling a little, and Draco stared at her for a moment. Her curls were a chaotic riot, her dark eye makeup a little smudged, and her lips were pink from his kisses.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he muttered, backing her into the wall as he caught her lips with another slow, sensuous kiss that teased the arousal building within him. Hermione fumbled with his tie, then made quick work of the row of buttons on his shirt and tugged the tails free of his trousers. His lips curled with a smirk at her urgency.

Draco stared at her for a moment, her eyes still a little glassy, but some of the clarity had returned with the night air. He removed his jacket from her shoulders, drawing himself flush against her, and palmed her arse with both hands, bringing her closer still.

She ground against him, idly toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he released the zip closure of her dress. When she shifted free of the fabric, letting the dress fall to the floor, Draco bit down hard on his bottom lip at the sight of her in her bra, knickers, and heels.

"Perfect," he breathed, grazing the peak of her nipple through her bra with his thumb.

Colour dusted her cheekbones as she smiled, smoothing her hands up his bare chest, and she ducked her chin as she met his eyes. Draco almost couldn't handle the depth of everything he found there, the wave of emotion in her eyes both startling and humbling.

He kissed her again in an effort to convey through actions the thoughts he couldn't express.

She grazed him through his trousers, removing his belt with surprising dexterity, and Draco released the clasp of her bra as he stripped free of his trousers and shorts. He was almost painfully aroused when she took hold of him in her palm with languorous strokes.

Draco manoeuvred her onto the foot of the bed, drinking in the sight of her as he teased the elastic waist of her knickers. He managed a thick swallow, his heart thudding somewhere in his throat, as he dragged the lace down her legs and smoothed his palms against her skin. "Leave the heels on, please," he said, the words a little strained as he caught her wrists and moved her further onto the bed.

Her eyes sparkled, heavily lidded, when she wrapped her legs around his back, drawing him close against her, and Draco slid himself into her as though he were made to fit. They shared a groan, breaths mingling.

Hermione kissed him once, arching up from the bed into him, and a sighed, "I love you," fell from her lips.

Draco froze, suspending himself above her and sinking into the feel of her tight heat around him. "You," he said, "are everything."

Then he began to move.

Her skin was enticing and soft, her curves calling to him as they shared breath. Nails grazing his shoulders, she moved with him, and with each thrust inside of her, Draco felt every part of him come alight. His head spun, hazy with the alcohol and something else entirely, heat racing through him and pounding with the pulse behind his ears.

The realisation wasn't new that he cared about her more than he did himself, but he felt it truer than he ever had before.

As he pushed into her, release hovering just out of reach and edging him towards his peak, he met her lips with a deep, searing kiss. He could have stayed in the moment forever.

Never before had anyone caught his mind, body, and heart in one, and he suspected no one else ever would. His chest throbbed.

Her breath tasted like champagne, and her skin felt like pure, undiluted magic sweeping through him; with a cry, she came undone around him, her walls clenching and hands trembling. Draco's own orgasm crashed down upon him with a groan, wave after wave of pleasure, and he stilled as his pulse continued in a dull road behind his ears.

Withdrawing, Draco collapsed, sated, at her side. Hermione rolled to face him, her eyes glistening as she pressed another long, lingering kiss to his mouth, her fingers gentle on his face.

He cast a contraceptive spell, drawing her closer, and pulled the covers over them both.

And before he could dwell any longer on all the ways in which he loved her, he succumbed to the heavy and insistent tug of sleep.


Author's Note: Me apologising for that cliffhanger o.o I hope you liked it! Thanks as always for reading; your lovely comments keep me going.

Alpha love to kyonomiko, and beta hugs to my comma llama FaeOrabel.

PS come hang on dhrtwt! at indreamsink