Lucius — 8th June 2007
On Friday morning, I found myself walking through the Ministry. It was the absolute last place I wanted to be, but I figured I could check in on Draco and make it seem as casual as possible.
When I entered the DMLE, heads turned towards me in surprise. Of course, everyone knew who I was and what I'd done during the war. My misdeeds had been made very public during my trial, and I'd never come here to see Draco before.
"Good morning," I said, breaking their shocked silence. "I'm here to see my son. I believe you may know who he is."
One of the older Aurors scoffed and gestured towards an office. I didn't have to look at the nameplate on the door to know who it belonged to; Harry Potter was on paternity leave, and I couldn't think of a single other person Draco would talk to.
Standing just outside of the doorway, I looked in and saw both Hermione and Draco leaning down, closely examining photos. They were on opposite sides of the desk and exchanged their images, talking quickly.
As I watched them, even just for a few seconds, I saw their natural chemistry, the way they just seemed to fit. They were perfect together, equally matched in intelligence and able to keep pace with each other. Even if Draco didn't remember their relationship, his body was attuned to hers, moving nearly in tandem.
It made me feel even more guilty.
"I think I was right about the Arabic, and there's definitely something here about invisibility," Hermione said. "But I also think you were right — everything is just slightly off, and we need to figure out why."
He looked up and, though I couldn't see his face, I knew he would be smirking at her. "Oh, I love hearing you say I'm right, Granger."
Her head snapped up, but before she could respond, she noticed me. Her eyes widened and her lips stayed slightly parted, the ghost of the unspoken words between them.
Seeing the shocked expression on her face, Draco spun around and met my gaze. "Father? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"
"I actually came to ask you the same thing," I replied smoothly, gathering my composure. "I got a rather frantic Floo call from your wife last night when you weren't home by eight."
He turned back to Hermione. "Excuse me for a moment, Granger. I'm going to have a word with my father."
"Of c-course," she said, the slight stammer in her voice betraying her nerves.
"Granger, he's not going to do anything to you. He's changed and we're in the middle of the DMLE," he stated, mistaking her expression for one of fear.
The way he'd politely excused himself, the way he reassured her… It showed the level of care he had for her. After all we'd done to erase the past, it lingered in the air of her office. I could imagine them working together, sharing private glances and little smiles. They would be happy.
They could've been happy, if not for my actions.
She forced a smile. "Of course I know that, Draco. I was just… surprised."
I was surprised she'd so easily agreed, saying that I'd changed when she knew better than anyone that I really hadn't. Ultimately, I had resorted to my old ways to scare her into the Obliviation. She probably thought I'd hurt her or her parents if she didn't toe the line and continue the charade.
His eyes lingered on her, like he was making sure she was truly okay. When she resumed her examination of the photos, he rose and walked over to me. "Let's take a walk, Father."
Gesturing for him to take the lead, I waited until he'd turned away to send the small note I'd brought with me into her office. She quickly summoned the scroll, making it zoom into her palm.
Her wordless, wandless magic was strong, even when she was visibly shaken.
I followed Draco out into the DMLE and into a vacant conference room. He closed the door and cast a Muffliato.
"What happened yesterday?" I asked. "Astoria called us to say you hadn't come home and then told us you were quite confused when you got there."
He ran a hand through his overly long fringe, pushing it back off his face. "I remembered something strange when I smelled someone's perfume in the lift," he explained. "I can't even tell you where the scent was coming from, but I remembered buying perfume, and a red dress, and a diamond necklace. A big one."
"Oh? It doesn't sound overly important or specific," I said, trying to downplay it.
Narrowing his eyes, Draco added, "It was in a Muggle shop. I know I went into Muggle areas for work, but this certainly wasn't anything to do with work. The perfume was very specific, and I said it was for my wife, but I looked through all of Astoria's things this morning… It wasn't there."
"Maybe she's finished it?"
He shook his head. "I've not smelled that scent on her before. It has to be the same one I smelled in the lift."
I shrugged. "Not necessarily, Draco. So many perfumes have similar base notes. Maybe the memory was triggered by something else."
"It happened when I breathed in through my nose."
"Did you ask Astoria about the necklace?" I redirected.
He groaned. "I did. She went on about how it's in the vault because it was so expensive. She told me she'll get it next time she's in Diagon Alley."
"Makes sense. At least you know where it is."
I watched as he paced — a habit he'd clearly picked up from Narcissa — and repeatedly ran his fingers through his hair.
"But do I?" he asked. "She really seemed upset when I asked her about it. I saw the perfume, a red dress, and that bloody necklace. She claimed she didn't have any of them in the house."
Oh, for Salazar's sake! She couldn't transfigure a dress red?!
"I'm sure the necklace is safer in the vaults," I said, trying to deflect his attention. "I still think it's possible she's finished the perfume."
Letting out a sigh, he said, "I don't know. I hate this bloody injury. I hate my own mind. I don't fully trust my own thoughts or memories, and Astoria always seems… off. I can't explain it."
"How long have you felt this way?" I asked, scanning his face for a reaction.
Draco looked me straight in the eyes — and it was like looking into my own eyes nearly twenty-five years ago — and said, "Since I woke up. She's felt off the whole time, and I just… I feel like I can't trust the things she tells me sometimes."
From his tone and his expression, I could tell that he was being honest with me. I sat in one of the uncomfortable office chairs and gestured for him to do the same. Shaking his head, he started to pace again. "I just don't know, Father. And then things with Blaise are off, and I can't put my finger on that, either. All the parts of my life that should make sense don't."
"I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself right now. You and Astoria had an arranged marriage. I'm fairly certain that the two of you never really figured things out before she got pregnant with Scorpius, and you can't really remember much of your life together. You've openly said that." I took a deep breath. "And Blaise… well, people grow apart as they get older. It's not unusual, so I wouldn't worry about it."
"But it makes no fucking sense!" he shouted. "I want to know where those things are, and I want to know why it's just certain things from after I married Astoria that I can't fucking remember!"
The confession was on my lips, begging to be set free. If I told him now, he might forgive me. He'd be upset, but at least I'd have told him of my own freewill. I could apologise and he would understand eventually. Knowing how important traditions and fidelity were in the Malfoy line, he would come around.
But the little voice in the back of my head, the one that told me Draco still hadn't forgiven me for the war, started whispering to me, as well.
He'll never believe that you had good intentions. He doesn't care about Astoria. He was in love with Hermione Granger, the way you're in love with Narcissa, and you stole that away from him. What would you do if someone had Obliviated your love for Narcissa? What if you could feel that it was missing, but didn't know precisely what it was?
"Draco, you need to calm down," I soothed. "I don't know why it's only certain things and from that time period. The Healers said they couldn't figure it out, either."
He was still distressed.
"Honestly, the only thing that feels right in this life, other than Scorpius, is being here — back at work," he admitted. "This place feels more like home than my own bloody house or the Manor."
"Well, you did spend a rather large amount of time here before your accident," I said, trying to placate him. "Astoria often said you didn't get home until late in the evening, even when you'd go into the office early."
"I'm sure that's the case, but I can't remember it. And she got upset because I got home later than she thought I would on my first day back, and that just couldn't be helped! I was filling out paperwork and trying to get in to see Potter whenever I could," Draco ranted.
Of course she did. She's paranoid that you're spending time with Hermione, and you are. Even if you're just working, you're back in her orbit, and Astoria knows that you're likely to fall for her all over again.
"I'm sure she'll get accustomed to you working again—"
"That's not the point!" he shouted. "She doesn't fucking trust me and I don't have any idea why! You know she fought me about coming back to work, and now if I'm five minutes late, she gets in a mood and will barely speak to me."
"Perhaps you should talk to her about this?" I suggested, prompting him to gape at me.
Draco's mouth snapped shut. "I can't! Anytime I want to have a real conversation, she shuts down!"
"Are you — Is the physical part of your relationship still...?"
Looking away, he said, "She's overcompensating there, actually. She lashes out and then... apologises. Let's not talk about it. It's weird."
"There is nothing wrong with discussing these kinds of things," I replied, trying to put him at ease.
He laughed. "You're my father. Everything about this conversation is wrong." The silence stretched on between us. "I just don't know what to do, and I hate that I can't seem to make sense of anything."
I didn't know what to say. "Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. You're clearly struggling right now."
Shaking his head, he replied, "I need to come by the Manor and get some more books on runes. Granger and I have exhausted what she has in her office trying to figure this case out, and I know we've got more. I don't want to take time off when I've just come back to work."
"Alright," I said, getting to my feet. "What runes are you looking into? I'm sure we have some resources in the library. I can find a few things for you to start with since I'm not going into the office today."
"Arabic. Anything about altering runes systematically. Codes that were built with runes."
I nodded. "Easy enough. Why don't you come back to the Manor and we'll search together? Your mother was frantic last night and would likely feel better if she saw you."
"I'll do that. Let me pop home and tell Astoria know where I'll be. Thank you, Father."
"Not a problem."
It's honestly the least I can do.
As I walked back through the Ministry, I thought about Draco — his distress, the way he seemed to know something was wrong, how Astoria seemed to be trying to distract him with sex, how seamlessly he and Hermione had worked together, the way his concern for her had broken through.
I'd known I'd made a mistake for well over a year, but what I'd just seen really drove the point home for me. And I'd lied again, continuing this farce and trivialising the way he felt. With every lie and every day that passed without me admitting what I'd done, I knew I was further damaging my relationship with him.
And Narcissa's. And Hermione's. And Astoria's. And Blaise's.
But at this point, I didn't know how to stop trying to cover it all up, to keep Draco from finding out about the past.
Hermione — 8th June 2007
I'd never been more shocked than when Lucius Malfoy had turned up in the DMLE. He hadn't even come here for questioning when he'd been giving information on the other Death Eaters. He'd made the Aurors go to Malfoy Manor and play on his turf.
As he and Draco walked away, I wondered why Lucius had decided to visit. It seemed like the worst idea he'd ever had, and that was really saying something.
I waited exactly three minutes and then I opened the note he'd sent flying at me.
Ms. Granger,
You need to change your perfume if it's still the same. If you're wearing any now, I'd suggest trying to remove it before Draco gets back to the office. That is what triggered his memory.
Please come by the Manor at your earliest convenience so we can discuss matters further.
LM
My perfume. Draco could still remember the smell of my perfume, but he didn't know why or who the scent belonged to. Recalling the note that he'd given me with the bottle — I will forever associate this scent with you. Whenever you pass me in the office, I can smell it and it makes me long to nuzzle my face against your neck, to run my tongue along your throat and taste you — it seemed so fucking obvious.
Scent was one the most powerful forces when it came to a person's memory, and there had been no way for me to erase it. Something so subjective wasn't really a memory that could be taken away. There was no visual prompt to go along with it.
I wondered what memories the scent had brought forward and why he had seemed so distressed.
Standing from my desk, I made my way to the washroom, scrubbing at the skin of my neck and my wrists. A small trace of the scent lingered on my blouse, so I stepped into one of the stalls, removed it, and cast a Scourgify over it, eliminating all scents.
I'd been wearing the same perfume for years, and now I'd need to find something new.
With a sigh, I headed back into my office, my mind completely focused on what Draco might have remembered from something as silly as a sniff of my perfume in the lift.
Draco never returned to my office, though he'd also sent me a note, telling me he'd be combing the library at Malfoy Manor for books on Arabic runes.
That night, when I left the Ministry, I went back to my house again. I hadn't heard from Blaise today, but that was unsurprising — I'd told him off for being a bother the previous day. I called him and he seemed relieved to hear my voice.
"Tesoro, are you still cross with me?" he asked, his voice straining. "Please don't be. This is hard for me."
"I know," I responded. "I know it's hard. It's hard for me to be there on my own, too. I miss having you around."
"But you don't want me to call you."
I sighed. "It just makes me feel like you don't trust me, like there's still something wrong with me even though I've made so much progress."
"Hermione, I do trust you. I don't trust him to stay away from you," Blaise explained.
I picked up a quill and started twirling it between my fingers. Swallowing my pride, I confessed. "Well, you were right. He came to my office and asked me to help him with a case—"
He groaned, interrupting me. "When?"
"Yesterday. I need to tell you what's been going on, Blaise. I didn't want to talk about it over the phone, but I feel like I'm lying to you by not telling you."
I relayed the story about the lift, Draco's behaviour, my trip to the Manor, how I'd stayed at Grimmauld Place because I didn't want to be alone, and Lucius' visit to the Ministry. Blaise remained silent for most of it, interjecting only to ask questions to clarify from time to time. I was completely honest with him, not leaving any detail out.
When I finally stopped speaking, he said, "I'm glad that you told me. I wish you'd said something last night, but this is progress, especially since you went to Harry and Pansy instead of trying to deal with it all on your own."
"I'm trying," I murmured, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. "I don't want to be a mess. I don't want to get sucked back into everything with him. I really don't."
Blaise cleared his throat. "Don't take this the wrong way, Hermione, but I'm not going to let you get sucked back in. Draco needs to just focus on his family and his own life."
"I'm going to see Lucius to get the rest of the details about what Draco remembered when I hang up with you. I'd really like to know what he saw."
"Are you sure that's the best idea?" he asked, and I could tell he was worried about something more. "I know that Lucius is acting like he wants to help, but I don't think you can trust him."
"I have to know what Draco remembers so that I can avoid triggering him again," I replied. "I've already moved that particular perfume to the trunk with all of Draco's memories. I need to know if anything else needs to go in there."
Taking a deep breath, he said, "Okay. I understand, and it makes sense. Just be careful with him please."
"I'm always careful," I said, infusing an innocent tone into my voice.
He laughed. "You're never careful, Tesoro. It's one of the things I both love and hate about you."
"You're quite the charmer, Mr. Zabini," I teased. "I do hope you're holed up in your hotel room and not out on the town."
"I can assure you that I am, indeed, in my hotel room. I've not really left the hotel at all today," he answered.
I hummed. "Well, that's good. I don't want you charming the knickers off of some Italian witch."
"The only knickers I want to get into are yours, love. No need to worry about that."
A devious thought crossed my mind. "Well, maybe when you get home, I'll be wearing nothing but knickers."
Groaning, Blaise said, "I can only hope." After a pause, he added, "Can I assume you'll be in my bed Sunday night, then?"
"I think that can be arranged," I began. "Listen, I hate to do this, but I have to go. It's getting late and I still need to see Lucius."
"Let me know that you're home safely," he stated.
After agreeing, I disconnected and stared at my Floo. I rang the Manor, praying that Draco had already gone home, and Lucius told me to come through, much like he had the night before.
When I stepped out, Narcissa was also there, though she didn't look like herself. I could see the strain and sadness on her face. It seemed she'd run out of energy to keep up pretenses.
"Ms. Granger," Lucius greeted. "Please feel free to take a seat."
I chose a chair close to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy," I said quietly as I sat. "I'm so sorry. I never thought—"
"It's not your fault, Hermione. It's not something I ever would've thought of," she said, trying to reassure me.
Lucius was watching us carefully, his grey eyes bouncing back and forth. When I turned to face him, I asked, "So what did he remember?"
"He remembers Christmas shopping. Specifically, he remembers buying the perfume, a red dress, and a diamond necklace. A rather large, expensive diamond necklace."
My stomach clenched. While I'd removed the gifts from his memory, I hadn't removed the experience of shopping for the gifts. Of course he'd remember going to Muggle London and getting me Muggle things. It would be foreign to him now. The memories would stand out like a unicorn in a herd of horses.
"I've taken the perfume off my counter so I don't accidentally use it and the red dress is at the back of my closet. I haven't worn it since," I explained. "As for the necklace, I have it at home. Again, I don't wear it out. It's much too much for everyday."
Lucius' face displayed something like regret. Before he even spoke, I knew what was coming. "We're going to need the necklace."
Immediately, I thought of the red Cartier box nested into the back of the trunk, hidden by the letters and notes and journals. Remembering how I'd first found the necklace — attached to the hanger with the dress — and the way it sparkled, I felt my stomach twist.
"This is far too much," I stated, gesturing to the necklace in the mirror. "You need to take it back."
Smiling, he said, "It's perfect. It's simple and showy at the same time."
With a laugh, I replied, "I'm not showy."
Draco pulled me closer, his lips finding my ear. "You are," he murmured. "You just don't try to be showy. It's natural, and that makes it so much better."
He kissed my neck—
"Hermione?" Narcissa said. "Are you okay, dear?"
When I snapped out of it, I realised my hand was resting on my throat and I was breathing heavier than normal. I met Narcissa's eyes. "I'm… fine. Just, well, remembering."
Sympathy and regret. Shared looks of sadness. Pity.
Our actions were coming back to haunt us, but I wouldn't be the one to take all of the blame for this situation.
And I wouldn't let them take away my tangible memories of Draco, the few things I'd kept for myself when I let him go.
"I won't give you the necklace," I stated, and when Lucius' lips parted to speak, I held up my hand. "I'll duplicate it. I've been using Gemino since I was a teenager. It's a Muggle necklace, so you don't have to worry about him looking for signs that it was goblin-made."
He looked like he wanted to argue with me, but Narcissa spoke first. "That would be fine. I can understand your reluctance to part with a memento like that."
Forcing a smile, I stood. "Right, well, unless there's anything else you can think of…"
Lucius also rose, gesturing towards the Floo. "You'll owl it to us? Or shall I meet you somewhere?"
"I'll send it via Floo as soon as I get home, so keep the connection open," I responded, stepping into the grate.
"Goodbye, Hermione," Narcissa said, not looking up at me as I departed.
I stepped out into my sitting room. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I walked up the stairs and into my bedroom, kneeling in front of the trunk. I unlatched it and shifted things aside, my eyes focused on the red box.
When I opened it, the necklace sparkled up at me, taunting me, reminding me. The tears I'd held back at the Manor filled my eyes as the memory continued.
He kissed my neck, his lips tracing the delicate chain as we made eye contact in the mirror.
"I want to strip you down so you're wearing nothing but this for me," he whispered. "I want you on top of me, riding me, wearing it."
I moaned at his words, at his lips on my pulse point.
"What are you waiting for?" I breathed, the words quiet.
"I have no idea," he replied, lifting me and carrying me to the bed.
I looked over at my bed — still the same one — and I could picture him there, stretched out, waiting for me to climb on top of him.
Hesitating for just a moment, I let the grief wash over me again. It was never easy for me to think about Draco and what I'd lost, but today felt somehow worse. I'd had certain things — memories, items, feelings — that were only mine, and those little things were my last remaining ties to the past.
The perfume I'd worn for years?
Gone.
The necklace he'd bought me?
It would be shared with Lucius, with Astoria.
The red dress I loved?
Forever banished to the back of my closet. Although I hadn't pulled it out in over a year, the fact that I couldn't wear it now, even if I wanted to, bothered me.
And the memories of these gifts had now been diluted, broadcasted to all the Malfoys, and I knew I'd also have to explain it all to Harry and Pansy and eventually Blaise. My feelings would, without a doubt, be on display for all to see.
Little pieces of me were still being chipped away nearly two years later.
Things were getting messy, complicated, almost too much to handle. And I thought there might be a chance that Draco would figure it all out.
If he did, he'd hate me. He'd never look at me the same way again.
Taking the necklace out, I reached for my wand, touching the tip of it to the pendant. "Gemino," I murmured, creating a copy from thin air.
I tucked the original away, back in its box, back in the trunk, and latched it shut. Carrying the replica to my desk, I slipped it into an envelope, sealed it, and made my way back to the Floo, sending it over to the Manor. I didn't attach a note; there was no point.
After that, I forced myself to text Blaise, letting him know I was back from the Manor safely and heading to Grimmauld. With a sigh, I followed through with what I'd told him, even though I knew I'd have to rehash the whole day to Harry and Pansy.
I just knew I couldn't be alone.