Chapter 20: Draco Malfoy

Two days after their visit to Diagon Alley Ron knocked gently on Hermia's door before quietly pushing it open. He couldn't help but smile when he saw what was waiting for him on the other side. Hermia sat cross-legged on the bed, one book propped in her lap between her knees and several other books lay open around her on the counterpane. Her eyes skimmed swiftly across the page as her quick mind soaked up the information surrounding her, Ron's and Harry's lives.

The day after their trip to Diagon Alley they made a visit to St. Mungos. When Hermia learned that there was nothing that could be done to magically return her memory she had become determined to gain it back herself. As soon as she and Ron had reached the Burrow she had tore into her new book with a vengeance convinced that she had read somewhere that the simplest thing could trigger her memory.

She was still a quick reader but her proficiency at devouring books was hindered somewhat by the two little girls she had to raise. Having the Weasley's around helped a great deal, but Hermia who had depended upon no one except Lizzie and Nate for the past two years, still relied mostly on herself and preferred to take care of her daughters alone. Even so, she enjoyed moments like this when the girls were being busily occupied by their grandparents. Arthur and Molly Weasley were a God send and Hermia trusted them impeccably with her daughters' safety.

Upon hearing the soft knock at the door, she marked her spot in the book before looking up into Ron's saddened eyes. She was three fourths of the way through the book she had picked up in Diagon Alley, her memory still vacant and Ron knew that she was just now getting to some of the memories he himself wished he could forget. The weight of that knowledge added onto his already dismal mood.

"Mione,"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Are you ready to see Malfoy?"

Hermia slipped a marker between the pages of her book before shutting it and setting it aside, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Of course." She rose to her feet and brushed the wrinkles free of her trousers and blouse. Ron held out his hand and she took it, twining her fingers between his as they stepped towards the door.

They made there way downstairs to the kitchen where Hermia assumed they would use the fireplace to travel as they had done every day so far this week. But when Hermia stepped toward the fireplace Ron stopped her with a tug on her hand. He nodded towards a worn, cracked pitcher set on the corner of the table.

"We'll be traveling by portkey."

Hermia's brows furrowed a moment in thought as she tried to remember where she had heard a portkey mentioned. "A portkey was used to bring Harry to the cemetery where Voldemort rose from the dead, wasn't it?"

Ron nodded. "We also used one to go to the Quidditch World Cup in our fourth year and…"

Hermia waved away the rest of his explanation. "It's all right." She stepped closer to the blue pitcher and stared at it intently. "So how does it work?"

Ron stepped in beside her. "Well, the portkey will take us to Azkaban Prison. All we have to do is reach out and touch it and we'll be transported there magically. So… why don't we grasp on at the count of three?"

"Is that we all have to do?"

"Yep," Ron took her hand once again. "On my count. One, two, three." The couple reached out and their fingers barley grazed the smooth ceramic when there was a jerk behind their navel and they were lifted off their feet in whirl of color and sound.

Hermia felt like they were flying randomly through space, whizzing around in circles, making her dizzy with the randomness of it. Just when she thought she was going to loose her stomach, they slammed to a stop and were pitched forward. Hermia lost her balance and was thrown to the ground while Ron was able to keep his feet beneath him. He reached down and pulled her to her feet.

Brushing off her clothing she noticed that they were in a stone lined room that looked like it would be found deep inside an ancient castle. There were no windows in the massive stone walls and the only way out of the room was through a heavy, oak door in the far wall.

Hermia looked questioningly up at Ron and he motioned toward the door. When they were two feet away it opened on it's own to reveal Harry stepping through the portal to greet them.

He smiled welcomingly as he hugged Hermia before shaking Ron's hand. "Well," he stepped back. "Everything's ready when you are." he watched as Ron rubbed the back of his neck nervously and Hermia seemed to tense. "You don't have to do this, Hermione. You can leave now and save yourself…"

"No." She stopped him from continuing. "I want to talk to him. I need to know what he did and why he did it."

"All right." Harry nodded. "If you'll come with me?" he opened the door and waited for Ron and Hermia to step through. He closed it behind them and sealed it. When the door was thoroughly secured he stepped up to the one window beside the door in the room. Ron and Hermia were already staring through it at the young man sitting there who was so gaunt he looked to be years beyond his age. Hermia's eyes widened at the sight of him. No wonder Doctor Viscose had frightened her so. His coloring was similar to that of the man sitting stiffly in the chair beyond the window.

"He doesn't know whose coming to see him." Harry placed a hand on Hermia's shoulder. "You'll have to leave your wand out here with us. We can't risk Malfoy attacking you to get it."

"I didn't bring my wand."

Harry's brow arched with surprise. "I've never known you not to carry your wand with you at all times."

She absently shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how to use it." She explained. "Why would I carry it?"

"Oh." Harry squirmed awkwardly. He always grew awkward when her memory loss was mentioned, no matter how vaguely. A part of him still blamed himself for what had happened to her. If he had only gone after her, or stopped her from fighting beside him, or…or something, he could have prevented all this.

Harry forced himself to push such thoughts aside, Hermione had always gotten angry when he blamed himself for what happened to others. After she disappeared he promised himself he wouldn't, in her memory, but he soon realized that old habits die hard.

"When you're ready you can go in." he offered, forcing assertiveness into his voice to hide how frightened he was for his friend.

Hermia nodded. "I think I would like to get this over with."

Harry led her to the door, but stopped with his hand against the knob, "Ron and I will be waiting for you out here. We'll be watching. If he tries anything, we'll be there in an instant."

"Thank you, Harry." She nodded for him to open the door, glancing at Ron one last time before slipping in the room.

The pale, blond haired man stared at the table with grey eyes devoid of life. He heard the door close but didn't bother to look up and see who had come to see him. Hermia stared at the man who had taken away her life and to her disgust felt a wave of pity for him.

Clenching her jaw, she pushed such thoughts from her brain and strode towards the table, taking the seat across from Draco Malfoy. At the sound of the feet of the chair scraping across the floor Draco finally looked up and his eyes widened with terror at the apparition that had haunted him for the past two years.

He flung himself back away from her, tipping the chair over and causing him to fall to the floor. His eyes stricken with panic, he scooted back up against the wall, clinging to it as if its solidity could keep him sane.

Behind the window Ron and Harry couldn't help but laugh as Draco all but shit his pants at the sight of Hermione who he obviously still thought was dead, and laughed harder when they saw the girl in question stiffen and flip her hair, a sure sign that she was getting agitated with Malfoy's behavior.

"Draco Malfoy," she spoke in a voice stern enough to rival McGonagall, "Will you please stop being a ninny and sit down. Quiet obvious I am not dead, and I don't have time to sit here and wait for you to become accustomed to that fact. Now, please take a seat."

Slowly, Draco pushed to his feet, keeping his back firmly against the wall. "Granger? That's not possible. I killed you."

Hermia rolled her eyes. "Well obviously you didn't. I don't think I would be sitting here if I was dead."

Draco hesitantly walked towards the table, righting the chair before taking a seat. "That doesn't make any sense. No one survives Avade Kedavra."

"Normally yes. But you seem to be rubbish at it. Not only am I alive, but so is Ron."

Furry flashed in Draco's grey eyes as he realized that the only thought that had kept him sane all these years had been taken away from him. "How? How in Merlin;s name did he survive."

"I don't know." Draco could hear the annoyance in her voice. "That's why I'm here. I want to know what happened that day."

Draco sneered. "I'm not telling you anything Mudblood. Do you think I'm dumb enough to give them more of a reason to add to my sentence?"

"I'm not looking to get you a longer sentence." Hermia bit out. "What ever you did that day caused me to loose my memory. I just want to know what happened."

Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And why would I help you, Mudblood?"

"Stop being a prat, Malfoy. You have no choice in the matter." His brows lifted in question. "Either you help me willingly or I go get Harry and he gives you Virtrsiurm."

Draco snorted disdainfully. "Virtrisuirm doesn't work on me."

Hermia's eyes twinkled mischievously. "That was before the Fedilus Charm was broken." Dracos's face betrayed his confusion. Hermia's lips spread into a wide, satisfied smirk as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, in a highly smug position. "Ron and Harry found me four days ago, and when they did it broke the charm." She leaned forward again, resting her hands comfortably on the table. "Now, you can answer me with or without then use of Virtrisuirm. Your choice."

Draco glared at her. "I will never willingly help you, Mudblood."

"Yes, I thought you might say that." Hermia turned and nodded toward the window where she knew Ron and Harry were watching. A moment later the door opened and Harry and Ron stepped in, menacing looks darkening their features. In Harry's hand was a vile of clear liquid.

Draco flinched at the hatred he saw simmering behind Ron's eyes. Fearing that the redhead was going to hit him, he raised his hands to cover his face. He felt a pair of strong hands circle each of his wrists and pry them down towards his chest.

Ron standing on one side of Draco, was having a difficult time restraining himself from knocking Malfoy's teeth in. His jaw stiffened and his eyes narrowed. "If you call Hermione Mudblood, one more time," he warned, "I'm going to beat you until you're senseless."

Feeling a twinge of annoyance, Hermia took her aggravation out on Malfoy as she used her fingers to pry his mouth open so that Harry could our a few drops of the clear liquid in his mouth.

Draco struggled violently to keep the potion from passing over his tongue, but the harder he struggled the more determined Ron and Hermia became to keep his mouth open. Finally, when Harry had forced the drops between his lips he gave up the struggle and collapsed into his chair, his eyes blazing with anger and hatred.

"Thank you Harry, Ron." Hermione wiped her hands vigorously together as if they were dirty from touching him. "I can handle things from here."

The two men nodded, glaring at Draco as they exited the room. When the door was closed Hermia settled back in her chair crossing her hands primly on the table. "Are you ready to talk?"

Draco's eyes narrowed into shallow slits. "Yes." He seethed through clenched teeth.

"Wonderful." Hermia bit her bottom lip a moment in thought. Now that the time had come she didn't exactly know where to start. "I suppose," she began, "that the best place to start is the begging. I want to know what happened the day I lost my memory."

Draco's arms crossed smugly across his chest. He leaned back in an arrogant pose, his right eyebrow arched.

"Well," Hermia asked impatiently, "Why aren't you answering?"

"You didn't ask me a question."

She sighed with renewed exasperation. "All right Draco. What happened the day that you tried to kill me?"

Hermia watched as Draco's jaw clenched as he tried to fight against the powers of the Virtrisuirm. It was a battle they both knew he was going to loose. She could tell that it was physically painful for him not to answer. Sweat puckered at his brow and trickled down his cheek from the strain of it.

"I tried to kill the, Weasel." He finally blurted out. "I imagine it didn't work proper because of the silencing charm someone casted on me." Hermia flinched at the hatred she saw in Draco's eyes as he spoke. "When you thought he was dead you chased after me. I knew if I didn't get away you were going to kill me. I almost did, but at the last moment you lunged at me, right before I apperated. When we landed in the village outside my town you stumbled to the ground. By this time the silencing charm had worn off and I decided that I had to kill you before you killed me."

"Why didn't I die?"

Draco pinched his lips together struggling again not to answer. Losing her patience she asked again. "Why didn't I die that day?"

"Because a part of me didn't want you to." He muttered resentfully.

Hermia slumped in surprise. "What?"

"I said," he sneered, "a part if me didn't want you to die."

"But that doesn't make sense." Hermia's mouth gapped. "Why?"

"Because I fancied you, even though you are a filthy Mudblood. Your nice to look at. And the only girl who ever stood up to me." Draco snorted disdainfully. "I felt so dirty and vile. I didn't understand how it was possible for me to fancy someone with tainted blood."

Hermia's eyes widened with understanding. "The killing curse only works if you really feel hate. And you don't hate me do you?"

"Yes," He said vehemently. "I do."

"You just said that you fancy me, and now you're telling me that you hate me." She picked her words carefully. "How can you feel both at the same time?"

"I don't." he snapped. "I hate you?"

"Why?"

"Because you and the Weasel are the reason that I spent the last two years rotting in this bloody prison."

"And I suppose the fact that you are a Death Eater has nothing to do with it." Hermia's hands shook with her fury. "Did you know that I wasn't dead when you left me in that alley?" She continued her questioning, trying to get her flaring temper under control.

"No."

"So why did you put me under the Fedilus Charm?"

"Because I knew it would be harder on Potter in he never found your body." Draco smiled now, enjoying telling her of the pain he purposefully inflicted on them. "That way there would always be that doubt, that wondering if you really were alive out there somewhere."

Hermia's lips quivered as she tried to hold back her tears. "Why Draco? Why do you hate us so much that you would do that?"

"Because you're all so perfect and good." He sneered. "Even when you broke the rules you were praised for it. The bloody Golden Trio." He spat. All the hatred he felt was infused in those four words. "You make me sick."

Hermia bound to her feet, slamming her fists on the table. "You bastard." She cried through her teeth. "You stole my life from me because I was good." She ignored the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I lost everything because of you. I have no memory. I have no identity. My babies have spent the first year of their life without their father."

"You're a mother?" Draco asked with disbelief.

"Yes!" She cried out angrily. "I was pregnant with twins when you tried to kill me."

"You slept with the Weasel?"

"Stop calling him that." She pushed away from the table "You disgust me Draco Malfoy. You are a poor excuse for a human being. You're not half the man Ron Weasley or Harry Potter are. Your heart is as cold and black as stone and it is a relief for me to know that you will spend the rest of you life rotting in prison."

Still seething with anger Hermia spun on her heel and strode towards the door. Her hand barley grazed the handle when Draco's cold voice stopped her. "Do you think this prison will hold me forever, Granger? Don't count on it." Hermia turned just enough so that she could see him. "You better watch your back. Because when I get out of here I'm finishing what I started."

"You can't frighten me, Draco. You're a pathetic excuse of a man. You'll never get out of here. And even if you did, Ron and Harry would never let you get near me." She turned and opened the door slipping outside, leaving Draco alone once more.

Ron reached out and placed a hand on Hermia's shoulder. "Mione… are you all right?"

She didn't acknowledge his touch, just started numbly at the wall. "Can we go back to the Burrow now? I want to see my daughters."

Ron nodded and guided her gently toward the door leading to the room where they had left the portkey. Harry followed quietly behind them. Ron looked back over his shoulder and the two men shared a worried look. During the interview both of them had been tempted to rush into the room and pummel Draco into a withering mound of flesh, but had stopped because of Hermione. It wasn't until the end of the interview when she had lost control and began shouting at Draco that they realized how much this really had affected her. The old Hermione, the one that they remembered from school, would never have lost control and shouted at him like that. It was unnerving and they both worried. How much more of this could she take before she snapped?

Once through the door Hermia stepped away from Ron and walked briskly towards the portkey. Harry put a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder. The red haired man looked back at his best friend.

"Watch her close, Ron." Harry said in a hushed voice so that the bushy haired woman couldn't here. "And let me know immediately if anything happens."

Ron nodded. "Thanks Harry."

The raven haired man sighed heavily. "I just wish I could do more." The two men cast worried glances at Hermia's back. "I'll stop by tonight to make sure everything is all right."

"Ron." Hermia's impatient voice reached them, causing both to turn instantly to her.

Harry strode forward and wrapped his friend in a hug. "I'll see you later, Hermione." He pressed a brotherly kiss to her cheek.

Hermia hugged him back. "Goodbye Harry… And thank you again."

"Anything for you, Hermione." Harry gave her one last squeeze before pulling away.

She smiled weekly and turned to Ron, indicating that she was ready to leave.

Ron stepped forward. "On three. One. Two. Three."

The pair reached out and grasped the pitcher and seconds later were falling to their knees in the Weasley kitchen.

As soon as Hermia regained her footing she pushed ardent curls out of her face. "I think I need to go lie down." She murmured before she turned and fled from the room. Ron could here her retreating feet as she rushed down the hall and up the stairs, the slamming of her bedroom door indicating that she had reached her room.

Sighing, Ron sunk down onto a chair, his head falling into his hands. He knew he should have followed his instinct and not let Hermione go and see Malfoy. It seemed to have caused more troubles then even he thought possible.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Molly asked as she came into the kitchen, carrying a content Hero in her arms. Upon seeing her father the baby's face lit up and she instantly reached her chubby arms towards him.

His heart instantly lightening at the sight of his little girl, Ron accepted her delightedly, lifting her in front of his face so that he could blow raspberries against her stomach, causing the little girl to peal with laughter.

Molly smiled contentedly before she turned to start a pot of tea. "You're a natural father, Ron. I've never seen a man so taken with his children, except perhaps your father."

Ron settled the toddler onto his lap. "I didn't know it was possible to love someone so completely."

Molly's smile broadened wider. "I'm so happy for you, Ronald." She said, surprising her son. "You finally get to have the life you deserve."

Some of the joy that had previously lit his face fled at his mother's words. "I'm not sure you can say that yet, Mum."

"Why not? Hermione's home where she belongs and you have two precious little girls to share with her?" As if to strengthen Molly's argument Helena trotted into the room and proceeded to climb into her fathers lap, accepting only minimal help from him.

"Mum, Hermione hasn't decided if she's going to stay. She could still decide to go back to the life she was leading before Harry and I found her. And do you know what? I could hardly blame her. All those terrible things that happened to us over the years, I'm surprised she hasn't snatched up the girls and run away screaming."

Molly turned away from the kettle and set a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. "Well, you just can't let her do that."

Ron snorted indignantly. "The curse affected her memory, Mum, not her personality or her strength of will. She's as stubborn as ever. If Mione decides she wants nothing to do with us, there's nothing I can do about it."

Molly tried to smile reassuringly but failed. Instead she pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning to her screeching kettle. She poured him a quick cup before taking the rest out to the others waiting in the living room.

A heavy wait settled on Ron's heart as his mother left him alone. His arms tightened reflexively around his daughters. He settled them closer to his chest before pressing a kiss to each of their brows. He never should have let Hermione go and see Draco Malfoy. It was a mistake he feared would cost him his family.