Love's Sweetest Sorrows Chapter 3 LAST CHAPTER

Hermione followed the guard to the same interrogation area where she and Theo had first met with Malfoy. It was Monday morning and she had spent the weekend preparing herself for the meeting. Theo had offered to go with her, for support and to act as a buffer against his friend's foul mood, but Hermione had declined. She was a war heroine, a Gryffindor, a third of the Prophet's favorite topic, the Golden Trio. She could face a man she'd once studied Herbology alongside.

She stepped into the damp, musty, stone-walled room and found Malfoy already awaiting her arrival. He was surveying his nail beds in a blasé manner, as though he had much more important activities to be attending to. When she stepped into the room his eyes lifted from his hands to her face and he began bouncing his leg agitatedly. "Granger."

"Malfoy," it came out like a long exhale.

Hermione walked to her place at the table across from him and as she slid into her seat, he sat up and leaned forward on the wooden surface between them. She placed a small glass vial before him and gestured to it. "I'm still trying to get approval to carry my wand back here to extract your memories. But in the meantime, you drink the Veritaserum and I will ask you a series of questions and record your answers in writing."

He raised an unamused eyebrow at her. "Don't believe I'd tell you the truth without this?" he shot, lifting the vial to his lips and knocking it back in one go.

"Not at all. I think you are a manipulative individual who would try to lie and charm his way out of any situation," she retorted with a scoff.

"Are you easily charmed, Granger?" he asked, his unused rasp lilting a little higher in question.

"Not by the likes of you, cockroach," she replied, shuffling the parchment in front of her just to do something with her hands.

"As fun as this exchange is, either watch the memories or get out. I'm quite tired and I do believe a nap is in order," he told her with an exaggerated yawn.

"Why are you such an arse? I'm only trying to help," she bit back.

His grey eyes looked up from his hands and to her. "I don't need saving, Granger. I did my part, as you will soon see. Now I am doing my time. You are not here on my bequest, but my mother's. She has these fanciful notions of me being pardoned on all charges in this appeal—an appeal that is unlikely in and of itself."

"And if you are pardoned?" she asked him, one eyebrow quirked.

"Granger, if I am pardoned, I will wine and dine you in the nicest restaurant overlooking the French Riviera," he said sarcastically.

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to picture the two of them out to dinner in a place overlooking turquoise seas. She shook her head to clear it of such idiotic thoughts and sighed. "I have no way of viewing your memories, as I said, so if you—"

"I don't need a damn wand to do magic, Granger," he whispered, looking around the room as though it were bugged with listening devices.

Hermione felt her mouth part ever so slightly. "Not even Voldemort himself could do wandless magic, Malfoy."

"The Dark Lord," he began, narrowing his eyes, "was not very proficient in the Dark Arts he so clung to."

"What are you on about? The man made Horcruxes, for Merlin's sake," she argued, feeling uneasy that the man across from her was insinuating that hewas a more powerful Dark wizard than his nefarious leader.

"Anyone can make Horcruxes if they lack the moral compass. He had a thirst for power that overrode his efficiency and clouded his perception."

"So how do you propose we go about this wandless magic?" she asked, her heart beating somewhere in her throat despite her lack of belief in his abilities.

"Take my hands," he told her, extending his across the table's surface.

Hermione stared at his hands for a long moment. Soft hands that had a strange appeal to them. How he could keep his nails clean despite his horrid living conditions, she didn't know. He wiggled his fingers impatiently. "I have no intention of harming you. If I did, I would have done it already," he told her and she knew the Veritaserum was allowing him to speak the truth.

She slipped her hands into his and he smirked for a brief second before sobering. "Now, where do you want to begin?" he asked carefully, his tone serious and guarded.

"The beginning," she told him.

"Close your eyes," he instructed and she knew he was going to be using some form of Legilimency on her.

Unfortunately for her, her curiosity won the battle over her common sense and she closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, Hermione was hovering on a broom, roughly twenty feet off the ground. Hands reached out before her to grasp the broom handle, but they were the smaller, chubbier version of the ones she was currently holding. She could tell by the half-moon shaped scar on his thumb, a little less faded than when she'd spotted it just a moment ago.

"Draco, son, come down from your broom. There is someone here I want you to meet!" came the booming, haughty voice of Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione could feel her heart—no, Malfoy's heart—begin to beat rapidly. "Coming, Father!" came the tiny voice of little Malfoy.

He touched down and standing by his father was Theodore Nott, Sr. and a young Theo. "Son, this is Mr. Nott and his son, Theodore," Lucius began, placing a rough hand on his shoulder.

Hermione could feel the young Malfoy tense up at his father's touch. "Hello. I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, bowing to the senior Nott and extending his hand to the younger.

"Why don't you and Theo run off and play, hmm?" Lucius suggested and the two little boys took their leave.

One thing Hermione noticed was that they didn't run and jump and play like normal little boys. Both were hesitant, reserved, quiet. It was unnerving and unsettling. "I've got some new books on The Adventures of Merlin," Malfoy told his new friend.

Theo nodded and the two set off into the Manor. They passed a study, where the hushed voices of others filtered out into the hallway. "The Dark Lord is attempting once more to rise to power," came the booming voice of Severus Snape. "We have no choice but to act!"

"The Mudbloods are getting out of control, soiling the purest of bloodlines with their sullied blood and weakened magical cores!" came the voice of a much younger, much less insane sounding Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Can you imagine? Raising our children in this world? Surrounded by half-breeds and sullied bloodlines? It's not right! They'd be more prone to filth and foul disease!"

"And that sniveling idiot, Dumbledore, wouldn't turn away a Mudblood if they slit their wrist and bled into his mouth," came a male voice.

"What's a Mudblood?" Theo asked in a hushed whisper.

"I'm not sure, but my father always tells me how bad they are! They must be monsters!" young Draco replied.

"Off, you two! Let the adults alone!" Narcissa scolded from behind them, causing the two to jump.

Hermione's vision came back into focus and she stared at the hollowed eyes of the man across from her. "How old were you?"

"Six."

They were silent for a moment. He sighed. "The first of June, 1996," he said suddenly. "Close your eyes."

They were in the dining hall in Malfoy Manor. Voldemort was sitting at one end of the table and Draco at the other. Hermione could feel a sense of dread inside of Malfoy's chest as she stared at the man from across the room. "I do not understand," his voice shook ever so slightly.

"Your father's inadequacies in the Department of Mysteries have brought disgrace to the Malfoy name. I am looking to you, boy, to restore glory and honor to your family. You have one of two options—you can take the Mark and follow my instruction carefully, or you can watch as I torture your dear, sweet mother into insanity and feed her to the werewolves," came the steady, almost snake-like hiss of Voldemort's voice.

Draco's heart rate sped up and he felt sick to his stomach as he clenched his fists under the table, his nails biting into his palms. "I'll do it. Please, don't hurt her."

"My boy, I have no desire to see that most loyal of witches suffer at my hand or any others'. But should you fail in the task I have planned for you, I will take great pleasure in watching you make her suffer."

"And what is it you would have me do, my Lord?" Draco asked and his voice was shaking uncontrollably, the feeling of wanting to vomit nearly overpowering Hermione's own senses.

"You are to kill Albus Dumbledore and bring me his wand as a memento," Voldemort said, tenting his fingers and staring the quivering Malfoy down.

A panic overtook Malfoy in that moment and through his mind, she could see what he'd envisioned in those few moments—visions of him being killed by Dumbledore, visions of him running through the woods in a panic, visions of his mother being sliced open. "I'll do whatever it takes, my Lord."

Voldemort regarded him through serpentine eyes for a long, hard moment and then stood. Malfoy stood as well and Hermione could feel a wobble in his legs as he strode to meet Voldemort halfway and dip into a deep bow.

Hermione's eyes opened and she could feel herself gaping at Malfoy in horror. She had felt his consternation, the hesitation in his every movement. "Why didn't you go to the Order then? They were already gearing up for a War after Cedric Diggory's death in the graveyard…then the Department of Mysteries debacle—they would have taken you in! You could have been a double agent for them!"

"You mean like our dear Professor and my loving godfather, Snape? Tell me, Granger, how did the War turn out for him?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione had enough presence of mind to realize he was still gripping her hands with an almost desperation.

She didn't have the will or the desire to pull her hands from his and a brief thought crossed her mind as she wondered how long it had been since he'd had even this close of contact with another human being, let alone a witch. His face was stony, his guard lifted to the fullest extent. His features gave nothing away about his current emotions or his thoughts, but his hands were lightly trembling within hers and she wondered if he even realized it as he tried to put forth a hardened façade.

"Theo always tried to tell me you had no choice," she said slowly, staring at where his pale hands clutched at her tanned ones, "but that's not accurate at all. You had a choice—and you made the wrong one. I don't know if you think I'm going to suddenly feel sorry for you, but I don't. You could have walked away from that situation. Dumbledore would have made sure both you and your mother were safe, Malfoy."

"I don't want you to feel anything for me! As I've said, Granger, you were hired by my mother, not I. I could not care less about what this world thought of me, least of all you," he spat, finally withdrawing his hands from hers. "I owe no one an explanation."

"I disagree! You owe an explanation to the families of every person you've ever hurt or killed! Every person that was killed in the War you started!"

"It's so easy to see in shades of black and white, isn't it, Granger? When you leave here, you will go back to your perfectly organized, color-coded world of checks and balances. You and Theo will converse about what you've seen here and he will try to defend me as you disagree politely. But I have news for you, darling. The world has a million shades of grey, and I happen to be one variation," he told her, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.

Hermione stared him down and crossed her own arms defiantly, letting out a huff of indignation. Malfoy continued glaring at her, his gaze icy enough to cause her to slip and fall if she weren't careful. His leg was bouncing again. She couldn't see it, but she could see the light vibrations ripple through his too-bony frame as it did. He wasa twitchy little ferret, wasn't he?

They played a game of wills, neither wanting to be the first to look away or blink, for the loser was admitting defeat in the eyes of the other. For his part, he appeared to be surveying her appearance. His eyes glanced over her hair, which was admittedly growing wider and more voluminous with the dampness in the room. Then he searched her eyes, much in the same manner she'd looked into his and she wondered what he saw when he took in her earthy stare. Then his eyes swept over her cheeks and lingered a brief moment on her lips before he finally turned away, relenting. She felt a small sense of pride that she'd won this round. "Tell me, Granger, do you ever wear color?"

Hermione was so taken aback by this seemingly random question that she didn't even bother to pretend. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked. Do you ever wear color?" he repeated. "Both times I have seen you, you've worn a white shirt and black skirt."

"I dress in monochromatic or neutral tones to be professional?" she said, her voice lifting in question at the end.

"That's a pity. I haven't seen anything but black and white and grey in five years. The uniforms we wear, the food we eat, the walls surrounding us, the sea beyond—it's all grey," he commented and she got a strange sensation in the pit of her belly.

"I think we're done for today," he finally told her, standing and calling for the guard.

It was then that Hermione realized that if he could do wandless magic, he must have silenced the room and put up a disillusionment charm or something so that the guard couldn't see them holding hands. He didn't want anyone to know what he was capable of. Hermione felt as though she should tell someone, but she knew that if she did, she would never be allowed to see him again and he would be locked in isolation alone. They'd have no hope of winning a trial without these memories.

She stood slowly as well, as he made his way out of the room. "Until Wednesday, Granger!" he called over his shoulder.

o-o-o

"He can do wandless magic, Theo!" Hermione said, storming into her colleague's office.

Theo looked up from where he was reading over an ancient text. "Does that frighten you?" he asked, understanding her concerns without her voicing them.

She brought her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about the best way to respond. Did it frighten her? She had felt a strange tug behind her navel at the thought of being in the same room as a dark wizard who could do wandless magic. But was that fear? Or was it…excitement? Excitement to see something so awe-inspiring in action, even if it had to be at the hands—literally—of Draco Malfoy. She slowly shook her head. "No. But, Theo, even Voldemort couldn't do wandless magic successfully and consistently."

"Draco is a special breed of wizard, Hermione. He was trained by some of the finest Dark wizards in the last century. Not to mention, he has ambition unlike anyone else I have ever met. He taught himself wandless magic in case he ever found himself in a position where he was without wand. Which was brilliant if you ask me," Theo finished, looking emotionless at Hermione.

"But there were times, in the Manor during that Easter, when he was without wand. Harry took it! Why wouldn't he just duel without it!" she reasoned.

"Perhaps he didn't wish to duel," Theo said evenly.

Hermione pursed her lips as she mulled over his words and plopped unceremoniously into the chair across from him. "I'm exhausted."

"Malfoy can be quite tiring."

"He asked me if I ever wear color," she said, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

"Makes sense. Everything in Azkaban is so drab. Seeing a pretty bird in red would probably make his month," Theo replied, lacing his fingers and placing his head back into them as he crossed his feet on his desk.

"I am not wearing red for him," she argued, disgusted by the concept.

"Never asked you to," he shrugged.

Hermione closed her eyes and when she did, she saw a six-year-old Theo, through Malfoy's eyes. She heard the gruff voices of the Death Eaters, discussing the rising Dark Lord where young, impressionable ears could easily hear. She could feel the fear and trepidation as Lucius placed his hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" Theo's gentle voice broke through the silence.

"It was a memory of his…when you first met him," she said, not wanting to divulge too much information—there was a reason she was watching these memories and not Theo.

"I remember that day. He took me to his library and showed me new books he had just bought. He was proud of his collection," Theo said slowly, one eyebrow arch questioningly.

"Do you remember anything else about that day?" Hermione asked him.

Theo shrugged once more. "Not really. We went to his room after the library and he showed me his pet snake."

So, Theo did not remember the conversation the two had eavesdropped on? Hermione supposed that wasn't too extraordinary—they were only six. But why had Malfoy remembered it so vividly then? She didn't want to divulge any more to Theo, for fear of stirring up potentially painful memories for him. But there was a reason why Malfoy had shown her that far back. He could have begun with the second memory he showed her. Or even at killing Dumbledore. Why had he wanted her to see that particular memory so much?

o-o-o

THIS IS THE END OF WHAT I HAVE FOR LOVE'S SWEETEST SORROWS!