Since the moment Hermione and I had parted at the Ministry, I'd felt her absence like it was a physical thing — an ache in my chest, a gaping hole in the pit of my stomach, a missing limb. Nothing seemed to take it away, save for the arrival of a new note from her in the charmed journal she'd given me.
I've never forgotten, Draco. I can't imagine a few days apart will change that.
I hadn't been expecting her to tell me that she loved me, but I still felt a pang of disappointment. Last week, she admitted to feeling something and I knew she needed time to sort everything out, but I was longing to hear her say the words. Or write them, in this case.
However, her reluctance wouldn't stop me from telling her how I felt every single day.
I'd been closed off for so long — hiding every single little thing I was feeling — that I needed to change, not just for her, but also for myself and Scorpius. I didn't want him to grow up the way I had, completely unemotional and afraid to talk to my father. If I started making changes now, he wouldn't even remember a time where I wasn't open to discussing anything.
This was something I planned to talk about with Healer Clearwater in depth when I saw her on Thursday morning.
If I'd had that kind of relationship with my father, my life might have turned out much different. Instead, I'd internalised everything, believing that it was wrong to have feelings for Hermione when I was in school and then feeling unworthy of her after the war. I'd settled into the life that had been expected of me, even if I'd delayed the marriage for years, with no thought of my own happiness.
And then when the opportunity presented itself, I immediately fell into a cycle of selfishness, indulging in a clandestine relationship with Hermione when I shouldn't have, keeping her all to myself and acting as if nothing else mattered. I hadn't stopped to consider how it made her feel or what we were doing to Astoria. Even as my wife tried to entice me, I gave her the cold shoulder and continued to abandon her, night after night.
As I sat at my new desk — Hermione's old desk — I let my mind wander a bit, thinking about the kiss we'd shared after coffee. The connection between us hummed inside of me, happy to have been fed once more. Everything about her — every kiss, every touch, every taste — was never enough to sate me. I would always want more.
During the affair, it was clear she'd given me everything she had to offer — her body, her mind, her heart, and I hadn't done the same in return. Even if I was monogamous for the majority of the relationship, I'd still faltered and slept with Astoria. I'd still kept parts of my life separate from hers, and she had to do the same.
I knew it had to be different this time around. I had to give myself to her fully and hope that she eventually reciprocated. Every step of the way, I would make it clear that she was the only one I wanted, and I would make sure that my actions matched my words. There could be no room for her to doubt my sincerity.
Fortunately, I had already taken a few important steps. My divorce was finalised and I was living in my own home instead of with Astoria. I was communicating to the best of my ability, and I'd made the appointment with Healer Clearwater to try to sort out my own issues and learn how to be a better partner.
Picking up my quill, I sent one more reply.
Get some work done so you can come home sooner rather than later, Granger. I miss you already.
Something about scrawling her last name in the journal made me smile. Most people called her Hermione, but I'd been calling her Granger in one way or another since we were children, and I never planned to stop it altogether.
In my eyes, it was now an endearment, a name I used with love and uniquely hers.
After a fairly boring workday, I headed home to my empty townhouse, wishing that it wasn't so quiet. I knew Astoria had taken Scorpius to dinner at her parents' home, so there was no escaping the silence to spend time with my son.
Instead, I'd brought home some takeaway and planned to read another one of Hermione's journals. I wanted to get through them before I watched more memories so I could understand what Hermione was like while we were apart. I needed to see that part of her life to really know her.
I poured myself a small glass of wine, grabbed a journal, and settled myself at the dining table.
One of the first entries nearly gutted me.
She'd seen the photos of me and Astoria in Paris in front of the hotel. The hotel where Hermione and I had spent Valentine's Day and several other weekends if I understood properly. The hotel where the staff had looked at me like I was scum when they found out I was married to Astoria and had been for years.
I'm so jealous that she gets to call you her husband. I suppose I've always been jealous of that.
When she wasn't talking to me directly, she was so brutally honest and raw with her emotions. Deep down, I wished that she'd felt secure enough in our relationship to be that way with me much earlier. I know it was my own fault that she hadn't, and I made a silent promise to both Hermione and myself that I would do better this time.
Sometimes, I get frustrated with myself, especially when other people tell me I need to let you go and try again with someone new, but even the thought of another man touching me is just… repulsive. I just can't do it.
Looking at the date, I realised that it had taken her a long time to get past this and start something up with Blaise. According to Pansy, they'd started seeing each other at Christmas — over eight months after this entry was written, and over a year after she'd Obliviated me. As much as the very thought of Blaise touching her made my blood boil, she deserved every single second of happiness he gave her after what I'd put her through for over a year.
Even if he'd turned into a massive cunt at the end of it all, she'd seemed happy with him at the ball and when I'd first come back to work.
I love you. Always.
I traced the words with my fingertip as I imagined her scratching them across the page, tears running down her face. I wanted to see them again, written under happier circumstances. I wanted to see them right away and not over a year after the fact. I wanted to write back that I would always love her, too.
Because I would — I would always love her, even if she ultimately decided that she couldn't go through with this second attempt at a relationship.
Even though I wanted to search for something hidden in every entry, I moved along, desperate to get closer to present day and see how everything had evolved over time.
Dear Draco,
I've well and truly fallen apart again. Instead of going back to the hospital, I've temporarily moved in with Harry and Pansy. I can't be alone right now, and I don't want to burden Blaise. He's spent so many of his evenings trying to hold me together, and I know that's not him. He's always been the type to be out, chatting up women and taking them home. I don't want to make him miserable, too.
Honestly, it's been good for me to be here at Grimmauld Place, spending time with James and little Severus. They make me smile and feel closer to my old self, like I'm part of a family unit again . That was one of the hardest things for me after Astoria got pregnant. I no longer had my routine. You weren't around as much and, after I Obliviated you, you were just gone. All that I had left of my normal schedule was work and that just wasn't enough to keep me grounded.
I think you'd be proud of me. I finally had it out with Harry and told him how I'd been feeling for years. We're talking everything over properly now and slowly getting back to where we used to be in our friendship. I know that you'd tell me I should've done this years ago but I wasn't ready then.
I've been seeing Penelope again, and she's been great so far. I don't think I've ever talked so much in my life, even to you, and you knew almost everything about me by the end of our relationship.
Even though it's been almost a year, the nights are still the hardest for me. I hate sleeping alone. I know it's silly, but I can only fall asleep with my arms wrapped around a pillow. I need to be holding onto something. And, on nights that I can't sleep, I find myself wondering how you and Astoria fall asleep together. Are you cuddled up in bed the way we would be? Or are you sleeping on your sides, facing away from each other? Or in separate bedrooms? Or did you make love and fall asleep naked, wrapped around each other?
My brain is the worst sometimes.
Obviously, I still miss you and love you.
Hermione xx
When I'd seen Pansy for the first time, she'd mentioned that Hermione had lived with them for a few months but hadn't gone into the finer details of their situation, and I hadn't pried since things had been awkward enough between us. If I wanted to understand what things were like for Hermione back then — right after the Obliviation and during her struggles — I could ask Pansy for memories of those times. I was certain that Potter wouldn't share them without permission but Pansy was another story.
Despite her acerbic nature, Pansy was a romantic and wanted me to sort things out with Hermione, especially since she understood the connection between us better than most.
I made a mental note to owl her tomorrow.
All evening, I continued to read the journals, watching as Hermione slowly healed and evolved. The entries decreased in frequency, and it was obvious that she was relying on writing to me less and less. Learning about this time in her life was difficult especially when certain things in her words jumped out at me.
Sometimes I feel like writing to you holds me back, you know? If I'm telling you I love you all the time, will it ever stop? Because while I don't want it to stop, I think I need it to. You're gone, and I can't let you be the centre of my universe anymore.
The mere thought that I'd ever been the centre of her universe filled me with sadness, anger, and joy in equal measure; the old adage of "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" came to mind.
But my brain could only focus on the loss, grieving what had been between us in the past all over again.
I was being selfish and I knew it, wishing that she'd only waited a bit longer to carry out her plan so that we wouldn't have been separated for almost two years. Another month and I would've known that divorce from Astoria was possible.
On the contrary, though, I could've opened up to her more, asked her to help me find a way out. I could've talked to my father and Astoria. I could've done a thousand different things, and I hadn't.
I hope that your love for Scorpius outweighs what we lost.
Again, she'd brought up Scorpius, and it made my heart ache. Sometimes, I forgot how much he'd factored into her decision. She fixated on his happiness rather than her own or mine, and she wanted him to be loved.
He'd been the best part of my life over the past two years, but I wanted it all now. I wanted to have my son and the woman I loved, the same way I was sure I must have thought I could have it all before Hermione had Obliviated me. While I might never remember my thought processes, it was obvious that I'd wanted the best of both worlds, to have my cake and eat it too.
Back then, I wanted Hermione and I wanted my family — my parents, my son — and I'd made all the wrong choices.
As I read about the start of her relationship with Blaise and her conflicted feelings, I felt jealousy coursing through my veins, fanning the white-hot flames of my frustrations. I'd known about the relationship, so I was surprised by my own reactions. She'd wanted to stay friends with him initially, and I wondered how she felt now.
Did she still trust him and want him in her life, even if it was only as a friend?
I couldn't see Blaise agreeing to that kind of relationship, but I'd resigned myself to it before I found out about the affair. I'd been willing to accept her into my life in any capacity. If his feelings were even close to what mine were, I was certain he'd want to keep her close in any way he could.
I kept reading, quickly moving through the months between September and December, seeing her mental back-and-forth about Blaise and the way she'd slowly healed over time. I saw her desire for a relationship, for a life partner and children, evolve from the very beginning of the idea to her first date. She never said that she wanted those things with Blaise outright, but I knew she was trying to move on and rebuild her life.
As hard as it was, I think I needed everything to fall to pieces so I could rebuild myself. I had forgotten who I was without you, and I think I've finally figured it out again. I'm Hermione Granger — warrior, swot, independent woman. But I'm also Hermione Granger — friend, godmother, researcher. There are so many parts of me, and I can see them all now that I'm not completely tangled up in you. I got so lost for so long, but I think I'm finally on the right path.
This paragraph showed me just how far she had come in the months since she'd Obliviated me, and I was happy that she'd managed to find herself again. I could understand losing yourself in a relationship, letting your perceived role define you. When I woke up, I didn't really know who I was, other than Astoria's husband and a father-to-be. A son. Maybe a former Auror who would never get that part of myself back.
I'd been tangled up in being a Malfoy again, and that had been a role that I tried to shake for years on end.
I related to finding my way back to the right path and, somehow, that right path had led me straight to her, despite the odds being stacked against us.
When I looked at things through Hermione's eyes, I understood why she'd focused on what she perceived as the "big" memories, the ones that she thought defined the timeline of our relationship, rather than the relationship itself.
For more than a year, she'd been convincing herself that what we'd had wasn't real. She'd needed to do that in order to move on and try to forget about me, too.
I could definitely see myself standing on her porch, begging her to let me in after she'd ended things between us. I had no doubt that I'd used every trick in the book to get her attention. I'd seen myself using jealousy in the Pensieve, though she'd been just as adept at it as I had.
Regardless of what she'd written here, I knew that we'd had a relationship. I'd seen glimpses of the intimacy we shared, and it went far beyond sex.
Our relationship had shattered three lives — hers, mine, and Astoria's — and, in some ways, it even shattered the image I'd once had for Scorpius' future.
But now that I knew about it, I could never wish it away. There was so much happiness in our history, and it had shaped who we were today.
In the depths of my heart and soul, I knew that I would happily go through every bit of pain we'd caused each other again if it meant I ended up here, with a chance to really be with her, to build a life and make new memories together.
And I decided that I would do everything in my power to make her wish — the one for a life together — come true.
No matter what, I would love her the way she deserved to be loved all along.
As soon as I sat down across from Healer Clearwater the following morning, I started to feel uncomfortable. This had been easy when Hermione was by my side; she'd been able to fill in gaps if I couldn't.
But now that I was here alone, I was wondering if I could really speak openly with someone who was essentially a stranger.
"Good morning, Draco," she greeted, holding the tip of her quill to parchment. "How have you been feeling this week?"
Anxious. Lonely. Like something isn't quite right.
"I've been doing well," I answered, though I was almost certain she could see right through me. "Getting used to my new townhouse and living in the city."
"You're going through a lot of big changes all at once," she said casually. "The divorce, the relationship with Hermione, and a move."
"The move goes hand-in-hand with the divorce." Nervously, I adjusted the sleeve of my shirt. "But my nights are rather quiet. We didn't want to disrupt Scorpius' schedule by splitting his time between two homes right away."
"I'm sure the quiet is especially strange since you got used to spending time at Hermione's house."
Her quill scraped against the parchment, likely recording everything we were saying and only increasing my discomfort.
"Yes, it's been difficult to say the least. I was happy to see her on Tuesday, even if it was only for a little while."
Healer Clearwater smiled. "I'm sure she felt the same way."
I shrugged.
"So you were the one to request these appointments," she continued, meeting my eyes. "Is there anything specific you want to talk about?"
Sighing, I leaned forwards, bracing my elbows on my knees. "I wanted to have the option to talk things through but it's not exactly easy for me, especially when I'm here on my own. I was taught very early on to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself."
"And how has that been working for you thus far?"
There was a hint of something sharp in her voice, and it sliced at the defences I'd normally keep up.
"Obviously not well," I muttered. "If I'd just told her what I wanted at any point, none of this mess would've happened."
"The two of you need to learn how to talk to each other and be more open. We can't have you falling back into old habits because that will only result in more of the same — silent anger and miscommunication," she explained, her voice even. "You're both guilty of pushing everything down so far that you lose sight of yourselves and the situation as a whole."
"But how do we fix that?"
She took a deep breath. "It's going to take a lot of hard work from both of you."
Swallowing my pride and all of the nerves, I said, "I need to be able to apply this in all the areas of my life, not just with Hermione. I want to be open with everyone. I want to be… different."
"Different?"
"Yes. My father — I'm sure you know about my father? Who he is? What he's like?" When she nodded, I continued. "I don't want to be like him. I don't want people to fear me, especially not my own children or family."
"Does your mother fear your father?"
I laughed. "Most definitely not. If anything, he fears her, but she's the only one he's open with."
Healer Clearwater frowned. "But he hasn't ever been open with you?"
"No," I replied. "He's not as closed off to me as he is to the rest of the world, but I wouldn't say that he's open. I've been afraid to talk to him for the vast majority of my life."
"And I take it that has impacted how you interact with other people in your life?"
"I just don't. Most of the time, I keep to myself. I don't even try to influence things the way my father did. I don't want to be like him, but I can't break some of the habits he instilled in me," I admitted, my voice wavering. "And one of those habits was to always defer to him, to what he wanted for me, so that's what I did when I married Astoria."
"Keep going," she prompted. "I'm learning more about you and the way you view the world. It's very helpful."
The walls inside me started to crumble, and I did nothing to repair them. Thinking of what Hermione had written in her journal — As hard as it was, I think I needed everything to fall to pieces so I could rebuild myself — I let my reservations go, counting on Hermione and Healer Clearwater to help me put myself back together again.
"Since I was a teenager, I've loved Granger. Or I've felt drawn to her. I don't really know how to describe it, but she's always been the one I wanted to be with. But then everything got so fucked up after the Dark Lord returned, and I... I thought we could never be anything," I rambled, standing up to move around as I talked. I noticed a flash of something in Healer Clearwater's eyes, and I wondered what it was. "I spent three years thinking that I'd lose both my parents and then it was over and somehow we'd all made it through. Everything was still so raw, but my parents and I… we finally felt like we could breathe again. Things felt like they might actually change and get better."
"And did they?"
I shoved my hands in my pockets and met her eyes. "I think so. My father — he apologised for everything that happened to me during the war. He said he should've made different choices and tried harder to protect me." I shrugged again. "I don't know if he would've acted any differently if given the chance or if my mother put him up to the apology. I just decided to accept it and try to move on with my life. I became an Auror to try to right some of our family's wrongs."
"So, even though you blame your father for everything that happened to you, you've wanted him in your life?"
My brow furrowed. "Yes. Growing up, I didn't have much family. I had my overly formal grandparents and my parents. No aunts or uncles or cousins since Andromeda had been disowned and Bellatrix was in Azkaban."
"Did you feel isolated?"
"Not really," I replied. "Up until Hogwarts, I just assumed that's how everyone's life went. I wished I had siblings, but Mother wasn't able to... Not that I knew that when I was younger. She told me when I was in my teens."
Healer Clearwater nodded. "And now? I know we talked about your parents' involvement in your life on Tuesday, but I'd like to know how you've felt since finding out about the Obliviation."
"It's complicated, I suppose. I can see the way that my parents and Astoria isolated me from everyone in my life after Hermione took my memories. When I found out about the Obliviation, I was so angry with everyone, though I seemed to take it out on Hermione more than my family." I moved to the window, looking out on the busy streets below. "I forgave my mother quickly. I think... I think I always will."
"And why is that?"
"She and I have always looked out for each other, especially during the war. When my father was in Azkaban for most of my sixth year, I was constantly terrified for her and she for me." Taking a deep breath, I turned to face her again and said, "It was so hard for her, being away from my father. I think that's why he worked so hard to stay out of Azkaban after the war. They couldn't bear to be separated again."
"Soulmates?" she asked, her sharp eyes focused on me.
I exhaled. "Yes."
"And how does that make you feel? Hermione told me that you were the one who recognised the bond between you first."
I took a few seconds to think. "When I was growing up, I thought that their relationship was perfect. They had an arranged marriage but they loved each other so much. I thought... I thought that would be my life. Until I started to fall for a girl that I knew they would never, ever consider letting me marry. Especially during that period of time." She was listening closely, not making any move to interject. "And when the contract was signed with the Greengrasses, I was too preoccupied with other more pressing things to even really think about it. After the war, I honestly thought they'd just break it. Why would they want to tie their daughter to someone with my reputation?"
This was hard. It was all flowing out of me, as if some sort of metaphorical dam had broken, but I felt so fucking overwhelmed, walking through the past.
"I threw myself into work. Blaise and I started Auror training after we both finished six-month N.E.W.T. correspondence courses, and then I was there in the DMLE with Hermione every single day."
Healer Clearwater nodded, signalling she was following along. "Was that hard for you?"
"Surprisingly no," I answered. "She was with Weasley at first, and I was glad to see her happy. Potter and Weasley were made Aurors with no proper N.E.W.T.s or classroom training." I could hear the bitterness in my own voice. "And Granger was there to help them research. That's how her position came about, I think. They weren't ready to be separated, but after a few months, Weasley had screwed up more than once and he landed in our training class. He was bitter all the time, and he eventually quit."
"We're getting off topic. Let's bring it back to Hermione," she said, gently guiding me.
"Once he was gone, I think things got harder for me. That constant reminder that she was taken was gone, and I started looking at her again. Everything I'd thought was just a teenage infatuation — forbidden fruit and all that — came rushing back to me."
"Did you confide in anyone?"
I squeezed my eyes shut and spat his name like it was something unsavoury. "Blaise."
She wasn't surprised.
"After Hermione and Weasley officially split, I started thinking about trying to form a friendship with her and see where it went. But by that time, Astoria had finished up at Hogwarts and her parents approached mine. They wanted to set a date, and I stalled."
"Did your parents pressure you to go through with it?"
I shook my head. "Actually, no. I stalled for three years, saying that I wanted to focus on my career. Part of me expected Astoria to break the engagement, but in retrospect, I don't think her parents would've made it easy for her. Not after the way Daphne broke hers."
"And what did you do during those three years?"
Attempting to keep my face blank, I said, "The normal things. Blaise and I travelled a lot, trying to track down Death Eaters in other countries and partying along the way. I spent a lot of time pining for Hermione." I started to walk back towards the sofa I'd been on earlier. "But she never really made an attempt to talk to me, so I figured... I didn't think she'd ever forgive me for everything I did when we were younger."
The quill was still recording everything I was saying, filling up sheets of parchment that found their way into a folder labelled with my name.
"So you agreed to marry Astoria," she stated. "And when was this, exactly?"
"2003. I think it was September or October. We agreed that my mother and Mrs Greengrass would need six months of planning time."
"And did you suspect that you and Hermione were soulmates at that time?"
"I... I'm honestly not sure. There was something so different about the way I always felt connected to her. I didn't really know how to explain it, but I knew—" I sighed and tangled both my hands in my fringe, pushing it away from my face. "I knew if I ever got the chance to touch her, I would be lost."
"And you still married Astoria?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and daring me to make feeble excuses.
"I did. Fuck, it was wrong, but I did. I thought Hermione deserved so much more than the looks we'd get if we were together. One night is nothing, but if she and I were truly together? She never would've heard the end of it. And Astoria... I knew what to expect with her. No one would have cared about a former Death Eater marrying a pureblood girl. I figured we'd get married and then I'd find a way to move on from whatever I'd felt for Hermione."
"Your parents never knew?"
"Never knew what?"
"That you'd found your soulmate," she said, clarifying.
I shook my head. "I don't think so. Hell, I hardly even believed it was possible. In the letter my mother wrote to Hermione, she mentions that she knew I cared about Hermione when I was younger, but I don't think she suspected it was a soulmate situation. If my mother had known... I don't think she would've let me go through with the marriage." Once again, I took a deep breath. "I think my mother has always known that I wanted a relationship like theirs — one where the rest of the world just falls away, and it's just me and..."
"Hermione," she answered when I trailed off.
"Yes. That's what it's like. When I'm with her, she's all I can focus on. Nothing else really matters. I touch her and, fuck, I just watch her sometimes. Even through the most mundane things, I want to be there with her just to see if she smiles. I want to protect her and I want everyone to know that..."
"That?"
"That I'd do anything for her. That she's mine, my soulmate, and I..." I looked away. "I'll never let anyone harm her ever again."
Healer Clearwater nodded again and glanced at her clock. "We're almost out of time."
Honestly, I was happy the appointment was coming to an end. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from it all.
"Our main focus is going to be communication. You've just proven to me that you can communicate when you want to, and there are several things that I think will help you move things forward. For starters, I want you to think of one story — something deeply emotional that you've never told anyone — and be ready to talk about it at Tuesday's appointment."
I raised my eyebrow at her. "What? Why?"
"Because you need to open up and share. I know the two of you likely did in the past, but we need to rebuild the trust and communication skills in your relationship," Healer Clearwater stated. "It can be an anecdote from the war or from your childhood. Anything that has deep emotions attached to it."
"How will I know if I've told her before or not when I can't remember most of our relationship?"
"That's a good point. Think of something and ask her if she knows the story. I'm assuming the two of you are in contact?"
I thought of the journal sitting in my robe pocket, waiting to be filled with notes back and forth.
"We are," I confirmed.
"Good. I'll reach out to Hermione and ask her to do the same. I'm sure you'll both be able to come up with something for Tuesday."
"Okay," I responded sceptically.
"Stop by the front desk now and schedule your appointment for next week, Draco. I want to talk more about your parents. I think they're going to be the most significant hurdle for you and Hermione," she replied. "I'll see you on Tuesday."
And with that, I walked out of her office, feeling more exhausted than I had in ages.
Throughout the day, I'd written back and forth with Hermione. We'd answered each other in the sporadic free moments we found.
Every single time I wrote to her, I felt the tension inside of me subsiding. It had been a struggle to lay myself bare to Penelope, but I knew it was necessary.
Over and over, I thought back, trying to figure out what story I could possibly tell on Tuesday. Given the nature of our relationship, I didn't think I would've told Hermione many stories about my parents and childhood in Wiltshire. I might not have even mentioned the grittier moments in Voldemort's ranks.
There were certainly strong emotions associated with those memories, but I wasn't sure I wanted to dredge those old nightmares up again.
I had time to decide.
Settling in for the night, I lined several memory vials up on my nightstand. The Pensieve sat on my bed and I felt ready to spend the night immersed in the past. It was hard to sort through the memories; so many of them fell into the Pensieve porn territory, and I knew I didn't have to relive every single sexual encounter we'd had over the years.
Before I could get started, I opened the two-way journal and penned a quick message.
I'm going to be watching some memories tonight, so if I don't respond right away, I'm likely in the Pensieve. Anything specific I should focus on before next Tuesday?
I waited a minute and, much to my surprise, words started scrawling across the page.
Nothing I can think of right now. Like I said, I showed you most of what I considered the "big" moments. Just focus on the normal nights, I guess. And maybe some of the time after Paris.
Let me know if there's anything you want to talk about.
H xx
I traced the flourishing H, the two tiny x's with my finger and smiled. She obviously didn't have to sign it, but I was happy that she had.
Pouring a memory into the Pensieve, I looked down into it and saw a blurry image that looked like it was taking place at sunset. With a deep breath, I touched the surface and dropped in, finding myself at Hermione's house.
I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and looked around, knowing that memory Hermione and Draco must be out here somewhere. And then I found them, laying on a blanket in the grass. There was no indication of when this scene took place but, based on their comfort level, it had to have been before I'd told her Astoria was pregnant.
"It's such a nice night," memory Hermione said, her head pillowed against memory Draco's chest.
"I think it's more than a little warm for May," he grumbled as his hand stroked up and down her spine. "It's the perfect weather for flying. I wish you'd come up with me."
She visibly shuddered. "Never. You know that."
Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he murmured, "I know. I'm not pressuring you. I'd never want you to feel like you need to do something you don't want to."
Memory Hermione tipped her head back, looking up at him. "If I were to go flying with anyone, it would be you. I'd feel safe."
In response, memory Draco squeezed her tighter. "That means a lot. I can't believe you'd feel safer with me than Potter or the Weasel. Or any of the Weasleys, really."
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, but she didn't say anything else.
After a few minutes of silence, she waved her hand, levitating the book that lay beside them on the blanket. It floated above their heads, opening to a page somewhere in the middle.
"Shall we continue?" she asked, though it was clear she wanted to.
His fingers stroked up and down her spine. "Of course, darling. I'd love to."
Memory Hermione's voice carried in the open air, echoing through the space. Nothing interrupted her reading.
"What is it, my dear?"
"Ah, how can we bear it?"
"Bear what?"
"This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"
"We can be quiet together, and pretend—since it is only the beginning—that we have all the time in the world!"
"And every day we shall have less. And then none."
"Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?"
"No. This is where I have always been coming to, since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere." [A.S. Byatt, Possession]
My breath caught as I listened to the passage. Moving closer, I examined the book's cover, curious to see what she'd been reading. It was a book I'd never heard of called Possession . The words seemed so apt for our situation and I wondered if she'd chosen the book for that reason. Or was it just a coincidence?
Memory Draco hummed, likely wondering the same things.
That was what they'd — what we'd — been doing in the past, building our own pretend world, the sound of a countdown timer echoing in the distance. Rather than openly discussing what the future held, we'd just lived in the moment, stealing seconds and minutes and hours at a time. For me, those times had been an escape from my life and fantasies made real.
Now I could see that our relationship had served as both end and beginning — a quintessential midpoint. It was possible to see the end in the beginning, the destruction we would inevitably cause looming over everything like a storm cloud.
But now I could also see a beginning in the end of the affair — an opportunity to start over, to be truly honest with one another. As miserable as we'd both been, it had been the beginning of our path back to each other. And, once we reached the end of that path, we could start to build something real and permanent, not steal a few fleeting moments at a time.
I refocused on the memory playing out in front of me and realised that these were the kinds of nights Hermione had been talking about. There was nothing special going on, no trips or deep discussions or dramatic events, and we were happy. Plain and simple. I couldn't imagine anyone else being able to convince me to just lay on the ground like that, but I could see the smile on my face, the way I was focusing on her voice as she read aloud, the way my fingers danced along her spine in a steady motion.
Even though the moment was sweet and tender, I raised my hand and sped it up, knowing that I could potentially spend a full year in the Pensieve if I watched every second of every memory. I slowed the scene again when they closed the book. Memory Draco rolled onto his side to face memory Hermione and she hitched her thigh over his hip, pulling him closer. The sun was almost gone now, the final rays flickering out and letting the dark of night take over. He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her.
"Shall we go inside?" memory Hermione asked.
"We can if you want to," he replied, running a hand up and down her back. "But it's actually quite nice now that the sun's going down."
She grabbed a handful of his shirt and laid on her back, pulling him down so they were chest to chest. "I'm fine with staying here."
He smiled and leaned down, his lips ghosting over hers before nuzzling his face into her neck, sucking on her skin. Memory Hermione's fingers raked through his hair, landing on the back of his head and holding him to her.
My pulse started to accelerate as I listened to the breathy sounds she made, prompted by his hands starting to explore. They ran along her sides, grabbed her arms, held her in place beneath him. They clutched at her thighs, opening her legs so he could nestle between them, their clothed centres aligned and rocking.
And, after a torturous amount of time, flipped them again so memory Hermione was on top of him, her shirt banished to the house.
I moved closer, wanting to see what she looked like from memory Draco's vantage point. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of the black lace bra and her hair was wild around her flushed face. Her nimble fingers were opening the buttons of his shirt, her palms smoothing over his skin. And he was touching her, one hand on her arse, one gripping her narrow waist. The stars were blinking to life in the sky, creating a surreal backdrop.
Warm air, clear night sky, and sex with the woman of my dreams completely out in the open.
I'd truly lived a much different life before.
Shaking myself out of it, I raised my hand to speed things along again. The passion between us was clear; that had never been in question. I didn't need to watch another round of Pensieve porn to know I truly loved her or see the dynamic between us. And, if I was honest with myself, I wanted to slowly rediscover everything about her when she was ready to take that step. I didn't want to learn everything she liked through watching it play out in front of me. It would be more fun as a hands-on experiment.
Once they were through and memory Draco was redressed, memory Hermione stood, shimmying her knickers back into place. He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders before summoning the book into his hand.
"Well, I'm glad you live in this little secluded area, Granger," he teased, swatting her blanket-covered bum. "Otherwise that could've been quite the show for someone."
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. "And would that have bothered you?"
Memory Draco pretended to think and, quicker than I ever would have imagined, he lifted her and carried her towards the house, making her squeal and laugh, hugging the blanket around herself tightly.
"I don't want anyone else to see you like that, the way I do," he admitted, and I could hear the insecurity in his voice.
Rather than protesting, she managed to free one of her hands from the blanket cocoon and settled it on his jaw, making him lean into her touch.
"I've never been like that with anyone else," she said. "And I don't think I ever could be."
Turning, he pressed his lips to her palm and crossed the threshold of her house, kicking the door shut behind him and instantly transporting me inside with them.
Memory Hermione headed up the stairs, saying she was going to take a shower, but memory Draco stayed where he was, staring at the spot where she'd vanished for longer than I imagined he would. Even though his face was my own, I couldn't determine what he was thinking.
He raked a hair through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, muttering curses under his breath. Stress seeped from his every pore, every action. He was feeling strong emotions, that much was clear.
"Draco?" memory Hermione called, her voice floating down the stairs. "Are you going to join me?"
"I didn't know I was invited," he replied, trying to make it sound teasing. "I'll be up in a minute. I was just getting some water."
He took a deep breath as he started climbing, taking one stair at a time so that he had a few seconds to collect himself. He heard the water running, slapping against the tile and the bottom of the tub, and he opened the door.
Memory Hermione was sitting on the ledge of her vanity, waiting for him, her curls piled atop her head. She looked at him as if she could see right through his happy front, as if she knew he'd been upset.
But memory Draco smiled and undressed, his trousers and pants falling to the floor.
He held out his hand to her and they stepped into the shower.
She faced the water, letting the spray hit her chest and abdomen, and he stood behind her, his arms around her waist, his head ducking down to kiss her temple, her cheek, her neck. And she leaned into him, tilting her head to the side to give him better access and reaching her arm up, her fingers tangling in his hair.
"Are you trying to start another round?" she asked breathily. "Because kissing my neck like that—"
"Do you want me to stop?"
She didn't answer right away. Luxuriating in his attention the way she always had, she closed her eyes and let him cover both sides of her neck and each of her shoulders with kisses, his hair growing damp and darkening from errant shower spray. Just as his hands started to wander, her eyes reopened.
"Draco," she breathed, her voice almost trembling. "You always know you're invited. What's wrong?"
His lips and hands stilled. "Nothing. I just—I can't stay tonight. That's all."
The pained expression on memory Hermione's face was nearly enough to bring me to my knees, but memory Draco hadn't been able to see it. She stiffened in his arms though, and he felt that. He squeezed her tighter.
"Why?"
The one word filled all the empty space in the room.
"I haven't been home at all this week, and we're going away next weekend," he explained weakly. "I just—You know I have to. I don't want to."
"Well, it's nearly eight," she said, her previous warmth and concern gone. "You should probably be on your way."
"Hermione—"
"What do you want me to say, Draco?" She struggled out of his arms and turned to face him. "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."
I could see the pain in his eyes — my eyes — as he tried to figure out what to say, how to fix the peace that he'd just shattered.
"I have a few more minutes," he said, looking down at her. "Can we just... I want to hold you again."
"No," she replied. "I'm fine. Just dry off and go, Draco. You're already far later than you should be."
The scene changed, morphing into Hermione's office in the DMLE.
"What do you want to do this weekend?" memory Draco asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I wasn't sure if you'd be around, so I hadn't thought about it."
He leaned forwards, bracing his elbows on the surface of her desk. "Of course I will be. How long has it been since we missed a weekend together?"
Memory Hermione swallowed hard. "I suppose it has been quite some time. I'm supposed to spend Sunday afternoon with Harry and Pansy."
Frowning, memory Draco said, "Can you cancel?"
She chewed her cheek, debating her answer, and it made me feel like a total arse. My selfishness had kept her isolated from her friends. That much was clear.
"I can't, but I'm sure it'll only be a few hours. You're welcome to stay at the house or make plans with Blaise or something."
The petulant look on memory Draco's face annoyed me to no end, and he kept quiet.
Memory Hermione sighed. "I've cancelled the past few times, Draco. I need to see my godson, and they told me that they have news."
"I know," he replied, carding an anxious hand through his hair. "I just wish—" he sighed, interrupting himself. "I wish I could go with you and be part of your world."
This time, memory Hermione was the quiet one, likely afraid to push him. The awkward silence hung in the air between them like something fragile, something they were afraid to break.
"I have to schedule a meeting with someone anyway. I'll see if they can do it on Sunday," memory Draco said, rising from his seat. "I'm sure it will all work out fine."
He quickly stepped out into the office, his temper getting the better of him, and immediately bumped into Potter.
Potter was grinning, looking so unbelievably happy that memory Draco sneered at him in response.
"Malfoy, what were you doing in Hermione's office?"
"What do you think, Potter?" memory Draco spat. "I was asking her for help on a case."
Memory Hermione came out, hearing Potter and memory Draco's voices.
Potter's attention fell on her and he asked, "Are we still on for Sunday?"
Memory Hermione nodded. "Of course. I'll be there, though I think I can guess what your big news is already."
Potter grinned. "Just act surprised when Pansy tells you."
"I guess congratulations are in order, Potter. Are you having a girl or a boy this time?"
"We haven't decided if we're finding out or not yet," he answered. "What about you, Malfoy? Would you and Astoria want to know in advance?"
Both memory Draco and Hermione stiffened, their discomfort evident to everyone but Potter.
However, memory Draco cleared his throat and spoke after a moment. "If I was ever having a child, I'd want to be surprised. There aren't very many surprises in adult life."
His eyes focused on memory Hermione and she squirmed. I looked around the DMLE, trying to find any indication of the date so I could figure out if I'd already known about Astoria's pregnancy. Thinking back to when I'd first woken up, I could recall a similar conversation with Astoria, one where I'd parroted back this exact line thinking I'd said it to her before.
Potter clapped him on the back, his enthusiasm pouring out. "That's exactly how I feel, Malfoy."
Most of the other memories I'd selected were in the same vein. Memory Hermione and Draco curled together, a shared book in front of them. Sometimes, it was read aloud but not always. There were stolen kisses in the Ministry and homemade dinners, weekends away and more uninhibited shagging against every possible surface. There were trips to bookstores and conversations about memory modification as we tried to come up with a solution for her parents' situation.
These were the things that defined our day-to-day relationship, not the angst-fraught memories that she'd chosen to show me.
No, instead of angst, they were filled with love and happiness.
It radiated off of memory Hermione and Draco in waves, cresting and crashing with the ebb and flow of their lives. They really had carried on as if Astoria didn't even exist most of the time. And that made me feel guilty because, despite her flaws, Astoria deserved someone who loved her the way I loved Granger.
It all hurt to see and made my anger flare all over again. I sat on my bed, my face in my hands, and tried to calm down, but I was suddenly feeling bombarded by other little memories. Glimpses of cases and days in the office, conversations with Blaise... The connections were reforming. I'd pushed it all down while I was in the Pensieve, but it was getting harder.
I laid back, my hands still over my face, and let everything rush in. There were too many scenes vying for my attention and I couldn't focus on any single moment.
My head was spinning and I felt like I couldn't even recognise myself in the memories I'd seen tonight. When was I ever that man, the one who made Hermione Granger so fucking happy?
In my mind, I heard the sound of her laughter and saw a content smile on her face as we sat curled together on her sofa, my arm around her shoulders and her head tucked against my chest. I saw us dancing together in her house, her Muggle music playing in the background.
I witnessed myself having the kind of relationship I'd always wanted with the girl I'd wanted since I was fifteen years old, and it broke something inside of me.
Rationally, I knew why she had chosen to make me forget everything — the good and the bad — but right now, I wasn't feeling rational. I was feeling out of control, like I had initially.
And yes, I knew it was mostly my own fault that it had happened at all, but my brain just couldn't handle the reality of our situation.
We were so in love. Soulmates. Perfect together.
I'd fucked up by marrying and not divorcing Astoria, but Granger had just thrown it all away and she'd admitted in her journal that she hadn't really thought it through properly.
How could she have done that?
Looking down at the two-way journal, I wanted to write to her, to rant at her.
Had she forgotten most of these things, too?
I grabbed the journal and rose, knowing I needed to head to the desk in my office. I couldn't stay with the Pensieve and her journals. I couldn't handle learning anything else tonight.
My quill hovered over the page, ink dripping down and creating a splatter mark. Remembering how I'd been able to see her words forming, I thought for a moment more, knowing that she'd likely see everything I wrote.
I had to get this right. I had to show her how upset I was without scaring her off.
You showed me all the wrong things, Granger... How could you think that things like those jealous scenes defined who we were as a couple? What I've seen tonight — it was mostly happiness. I know I messed up by not leaving Astoria, but I wouldn't have ever been able to walk away from what we had.
I waited, staring at the page, and then I saw a drop of purple ink and knew she was trying to figure out how to word her response.
I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't have walked away. That's why I did what I did. I've already told you it was a mistake. I know we were happy, Draco. If we hadn't been, I wouldn't have stayed in that situation for so long. What we had... It changed me, right down to my very core. My values, my friends, my family... I set it all aside to be with you.
And then I broke. Couldn't you see the progression over time? The way I changed?
When I didn't respond, she started writing again.
Can you meet me at my house in half an hour?
I'd set her on edge, that much was clear, and the spiteful part of me wanted to tell her no, that I couldn't come. But a much bigger part of me wanted to see her, to argue with her, to let her try to convince me that she'd done the right thing.
To make up with her again.
I wrote a single word on the page.
Yes.