"Granger. Granger! Wake up."
Hermione's awareness came to her slowly. Someone was shaking her by the shoulder and speaking very loudly in her ear. She slowly opened her eyes and the shouting figure before her resolved into a blond man with grey ey — hang on.
"Malfoy?" she asked incredulously. "What — where am I?"
"I don't know," he said, sounding resigned. "I just woke up a moment ago myself."
Hermione sat upright. She was on a stone floor. She looked around her surroundings and saw that she was inside of a stone room with no windows or doors. Moving quickly, she discovered that her hip was sore — presumably from lying on the hard ground. Hermione instinctively reached for her wand and found it wasn't there. She started running her hands over her clothing, trying to locate it.
"I don't have my wand either." Malfoy said. "I think whoever left us here took them both."
"Why would anyone kidnap us? Sorry, let me clarify. Why would anyone want to kidnap us, together?" Hermione could think of plenty of people who would want to hurt her. Mostly bigots who were not fond of her heritage or her participation in the defeat of Voldemort. Perhaps Rita Skeeter or Eloise Midgen had an actual personal score to settle with her that wasn't based on prejudice, but she didn't think either of them would go to the trouble. There were certainly loads of people who would wish harm upon Draco Malfoy. Many wizards and witches blamed him for the death of Dumbledore and many more felt that having the Dark Mark meant he ought to have been thrown into Azkaban for life, or given the kiss. Very few overlaps in the circles of people who would have it out for either of them individually, though, at least as far as she knew.
"No idea. Are you hurt?"
"Still a bit fuzzy. You?"
He was towering over her as he reached out his hand. She took it and he helped her off of the floor. "I'm fine," he said.
Hermione looked around the room. There was a stone table in the centre, with two pensieves on top. On either side of the pensieves there sat a single vial, twin to the one on the other side of the table. Hermione looked closer. One was labelled "Hermione" and the other was labelled "Draco." They had the sheen of memories.
"Do we think that these are memories they intend us to watch?"
"I assume so. Any idea who they might be, Granger? Because I'm stumped."
"Oh, I have no idea. I don't know why we were targeted, let alone targeted together. But someone has a plan for us both."
Draco snorted. "Clearly."
Hermione sighed. "Did you notice anything else about the room? Or have you had a chance to look yet?"
"I was focused on waking up the brains of the Golden Trio — hoping she'd be of some use in the situation."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "You take that side, I'll take this side. Let's start examining the walls and floor. See if there are any weaknesses to exploit or at least something we can learn about what on Earth is going on."
Draco nodded curtly and they both set about examining the small room they had been locked into. Other than the table, the pensieve and the vials, there was nothing to find. No furnishings, no trick stones, no discernible secret entrance. Just a lot of smooth walls.
"Well that was a waste of bloody time." Draco grumbled, looking back at her. "I've got nothing, you?"
"Nothing. Clearly we were put in here with magic. Not sure what we can do about it without our wands. Where were you, anyway? Before here. Do you remember anything about that?"
"I had just left Gringotts, I think someone hit me from behind and then I woke up to find myself in this room, with you unconscious next to me. You?"
"Muggle London. On my way to the Leaky, in fact. I was headed towards Diagon, but I never made it." She thought for a moment, trying to recall if she knew anything else. "I may have also been hit from behind. When do you last remember?"
"Saturday morning."
"Saturday afternoon for me. Do you have any idea how much time has passed?"
He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Not much. I shaved this morning and I don't really feel like I have to again yet."
That was good to know. "How hungry are you?"
"Well, I didn't get lunch, so a bit. But not terribly so. You?"
"I got lunch. I'm fine for now. Too bad they took my bag though, I always carry food in it."
"You always carry food with you?"
"Rectifying a mistake from when we were on the run. I feel better knowing I have something with me, even if it's just trail mix."
Draco looked stricken as he cast his eyes on the floor.
"I'm not trying to make you feel bad about that Malfoy. That wasn't your fault."
He nodded gruffly. "I was supposed to have dinner tonight with Astoria and our parents," he said, changing the subject into a more neutral topic.
"Your fiancée?" Hermione had read about his engagement in The Prophet the week before.
"Betrothed, actually."
"Is there a difference between her being your betrothed versus being your fiancée?" Hermione didn't know anything about the archaic customs that went into arranged marriages and she had truthfully never thought much about it before. She had a slight disquieting feeling when she had read the news about Draco's upcoming nuptials. The idea of your parents choosing your spouse was vaguely horrifying to her.
"One I chose and one gets chosen for me."
"Oh. I see." Hermione chewed her lip. That sounded terrible.
"No need to worry on my account, Granger. I suppose I like Astoria well enough, if that's what is troubling you. What about you, anyone expecting you?"
"I was supposed to meet Ron for dinner with Harry and Ginny. It won't be too long before the DMLE is looking for me, at least. So that's positive."
He grunted in response, looking around the room.
"Hasn't changed in the last few minutes Malfoy."
He sighed. "I know. Should we look at the memories?"
Hermione made a face. "I have an innate desire to not do whatever the person who kidnapped us wants us to do. How about you?"
"Similar. But I'm very curious."
"Same," Hermione admitted reluctantly.
He walked over and picked up the vial marked 'Draco,' examining it closely. He put it down and sighed. "It is just memories. If it's harmful, it will only be so emotionally."
Hermione made a soft noise of agreement. "Think you are going to be able to resist?"
"Not if we're in here for long."
"I think I am more reluctant than you are."
"Yeah. I'm going for it," Draco said, taking off his robe and rolling up his shirt sleeves, displaying his forearms, including the scarred remains of his dark mark. Much to her surprise, Hermione wasn't at all bothered by the sight of it.
Hermione tilted her head, putting hands on her hips. "Malfoy, are you sure?"
"Yes." He quickly poured the vial into the penseive closest to him. "You know, you could do yours at the same time."
"I'm still not sure I want to do it at all."
Draco looked at her with exasperation. "I don't think we're getting out of here until we do, Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine." She poured the vial marked with her name into the other penseive and looked across the table at Draco. "I'm not happy about this, you know."
Draco sent a small smirk in her direction. "I'm sorry this kidnapping is not up to par for you, Granger."
"Thank you. Although, if I'm being fair, it might be the nicest one to date. I'm not underwater or being tortured. At least not yet."
Draco let out a bark of laughter and then he immediately put his hand over his mouth, horrified at his reaction. He looked ashamed of himself and his eyes were remorseful.
"It's okay to laugh. I was trying to be funny," Hermione said, deliberately keeping her tone casual. She hadn't meant to upset him.
"I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "About what happened at the Manor, I mean."
"I know. I got your letter. Did you not get my reply? I never blamed you for — it wasn't your fault." Hermione knew he hadn't much choice in the matter, just as she knew he had recognized them instantly and tried to cover for them, as best he could in the circumstances.
"I did. But I still feel like it was my fault." His voice got softer as he spoke, until his last words were scarcely above a whisper.
"Well it wasn't," she said kindly. "Shall we?"
"On three?" he asked.
"No." And with that, Hermione leaned over and was sucked into the swirling mist of her pensieve.
She found herself back at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement with a memory version of her younger self — sixth year, judging by her appearance. Young Hermione was pacing the room, looking worried. It was only a moment before Malfoy came into the room as well. Her memory self looked up at the noise, her expression changing from worried to elated. "Draco!"
"Hermione" her given name fell from his lips like a sacred prayer as he drew her close into his arms, burying his face in her hair before seizing her face and bringing her in for an intense kiss. The real Hermione's eyes just about popped out of her head, she was so caught off guard by the scene before her. This had to be faked. She quickly looked around the room. All of the details were clear. The Room of Requirement was set up like a more private and cosy common room — there was a fire, a couch, some end tables and books. There was a desk where the memory Hermione had been working on an essay. Hermione went over and looked at it more closely — it was her transfiguration essay that she submitted in April of her sixth year. She sighed. None of the edges were fuzzy. There weren't any of the hallmarks of a forged memory. This was real?
The pair snogged for a good fifteen minutes. Hermione's cheeks were flaming as she watched a sepia toned version of herself get felt up over her school shirt by a very enthusiastic Draco Malfoy. Admittedly, memory Hermione was pretty enthusiastic as well. When they broke apart, they stood with foreheads touching as Draco breathed in and out slowly, while memory Hermione stroked his arms softly.
"Are you alright?"
"No. If I don't figure this out soon they're threatening to hurt Mother in a more permanent fashion." Draco ran his fingers through his hair, clearly awash with stress and worry.
"You have to do what you need to in order to protect her, Draco. I understand."
Oh boy, did both versions of Hermione understand that. She thought of her own parents — off on another continent with no memories of their daughter. She understood all too well doing whatever it took to protect your family.
"I don't want you to be hurt," he said softly, looking almost as worried about her as he had been about his mother.
"I don't want you to be hurt either, love. But I'm less concerned about what happens when Death Eaters get into the castle than what happens after."
"What do you mean?"
"When this breaks into open warfare, we won't be able to see each other. I doubt I'll even be at this school. If someone were to read your mind — and find out about us — they'd have you killed Draco."
Draco sighed. "I know and I've been thinking about that. I think I'm going to need you to obliviate me."
Present day Hermione felt sick. So her parents were not the first minds she had altered in the name of protection as it turned out. She'd also done this to Dra — to Malfoy.
Draco continued. "And, I think you should be obliviated too."
"What? Why me too?"
"If you are captured — and they will be looking to capture you, Granger, make no mistake about that — you will be subjected to the same interrogation techniques. I think it's safer for us to both be obliviated."
Hermione watched as her younger self moved her eyes over Draco's face, thinking rapidly while chewing on her bottom lip. "We'd need another person to do it to us both. A person can't obliviate themself and after one of us is obliviated, that person won't know to do it to the other."
"I know that, love. I can ask Theo. He's planning on fucking off to America as soon as school's done this year anyway. He doesn't want his father to force him to take the Dark Mark too. He'll come back when it's over."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
The memories shifted and Hermione was treated to a kaleidoscope of memories that seemed to have occurred before the scene in the Room of Requirement. Of earlier on in sixth year — with the two of them spending time in class looking at each other; of her smelling the amortentia sample in Slughorn's class before looking wide-eyed at Malfoy who was already looking at her; of them arguing in the hallway before he pulled her into a kiss which she returned after a few seconds of shock; of her pulling him into an empty classroom for a snog session; of her losing her virginity to Draco Malfoy on a bed in a differently-arranged Room of Requirement; of them being so tenderly intimate with each other in the Prefect's bathroom – it was crystal clear that they had been in love. Every time she watched Draco Malfoy kiss the memory version of herself, she was so struck by his expression. He loved her. Judging by her own expression, she loved him back. She never looked like that at Ron. Hermione didn't have to be able to see her own face to know that truth deep in her soul. They were happy. They were so happy together. And the war kept them apart. And the promise of war had robbed them of even the memories of that happiness.
The pensieve flung Hermione back into the stone room. It was a few seconds before Draco joined her, looking at her wide-eyed and gasping.
"Were your memories about us?" Hermione asked, still breathless and feeling a little warm after watching all of their heretofore unknown, ah, intimate moments.
"Yes." His voice was a bit strangled. Probably his batch was as — vivid — as hers.
"Did you have any idea?" she asked, still sounding shaky.
"None," Draco said.
"Did Nott kidnap us?" Hermione asked.
"That is my assumption," answered Draco.
They sat next to each other, their backs against the stone table, both panting as though they had just been running. There were several moments of silence. It was possibly the loudest silence Hermione had ever experienced.
"This isn't the same as remembering," Hermione said, more to help her articulate her own thoughts than anything else.
"No. No, it's not." Draco agreed. "Our underlying memories are gone. Makes sense, really. If the Da — if Voldemort had found out about this, I'd have been killed."
"And I was captured. If I had those memories and someone had performed legilimency on me, well, we would have both been killed."
"Exactly. I think we were right to remove the memories. It wouldn't have been safe to know this while Voldemort still lived."
"I'm going to have to break up with Ron," she breathed. Draco looked at her sharply. Hermione held out her hand. "That's not — it's not entirely about you. It never felt right with him and now I know why. It was easier when I was still at Hogwarts and I rarely saw him, but now that it's been a couple of months since graduation — well I think I know why I was so reluctant to take things to the, um, next level."
"You two, uh, never —"
"Yeah — we've not. I thought that I was apprehensive about my first time, but apparently that wasn't it, because it wouldn't have been my first time."
Draco looked relieved before he dropped his hands into his head, groaning. "I — fuck, I'm supposed to be getting married."
"I know." Hermione hadn't been happy about that beforehand, but she had chalked it up to her general dislike of the concept of arranged marriages. On reflection, it was probably that she didn't like the idea of Draco Malfoy specifically being in an arranged marriage.
"I don't remember feeling like that," Draco said, helplessly.
Hermione sighed. "I know. I don't either. I can't believe how happy we looked, though. Given how awful the general situation was, you know?"
Draco nodded, looking away, his jaw tight.
"If I was single would you — would you date me?" Draco asked suddenly, his eyes returning to hers.
"Apparently the answer to that question is yes," she smiled, but her eyes were sad. "But you're not single."
"I could be."
"I'm not dealing in hypotheticals, Malfoy."
"Fuck. I don't think I can go through with it, Granger. I was having major doubts about it before this. And now—" He gestured helplessly around the room. "What do I do with this?"
"Should we think about this logically? Since we agree we don't have all of the emotions that went with those memories, at least at present. Should we discuss the problem a bit?" Hermione was feeling very emotional right now, if she was being honest. But she didn't think that degree of frankness would be helpful for either of them at the moment.
Draco nodded.
"Okay. I didn't know or have any inkling about our past. But I do know, that I —," she sighed and then spoke in a rush. "I was disappointed you weren't allowed at Hogwarts for eighth year. I got your letter over the summer before term began, where you apologised and I had hoped to see you in person." She had made a point to keep the letter too, not really knowing why but knowing she hadn't wanted to part with it.
"And I know that with Ron — it felt forced. Like something I was doing because it was what everyone expected. I think these forgotten memories are the reason why I felt like that. So — regardless of what you are going to do, I have to end it with Ron. I just — I can't know that happened and then continue on with him like it didn't. Not when it was already off.''
She sighed again. "I think you need to decide whether or not you want to go forward with your betrothal, but it's a separate conversation as to whether you want to see if we can find again what we apparently once had. But it will cost you, I think. To be with me."
"It would cost you too, Granger, if you were with me," Draco pointed out. "Most of the Wizarding world views me as an abject disgrace."
"I know."
"And would you pay that price?" Draco asked, looking at her intently. It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen Draco — if she didn't include her what she had seen in her bottled, forgotten memories.
"I would. I don't really care what other people think. If you chose me and never looked back, I would pay it gladly. However, if you're disinherited and get bored with having to work for a living and then decide to take that out on me, I'll be honest — I'm a lot less interested. And only you can know which of those two things you would be, if you chose to explore that path."
Draco pointed at the pensieve. "Granger, I've never seen myself that happy. I didn't know I could be that happy. My parents had an arranged marriage. Everyone I know — their parents all had arranged marriages. Some of the arrangements work better than others — my parents are fond of each other, maybe they love each other, but I've never seen them look at each other the way that we did in those memories."
"I don't think I've ever looked at anyone, or rather, anyone else like that."
Draco ran his hand through his hair. "I'm ending the betrothal. Regardless of what happens next, I'm not — I'm going to marry for love."
Hermione smiled at him encouragingly. "I think that is the right decision, Draco. No matter who that ends up being."
"If we ever get out of here, do you want to go out for dinner with me sometime?"
"Yes. I'd like that."
"Do you think Theo will let us out now?"
"Not until you kiss," came a booming voice.
"Well, that's not off-putting at all," Hermione muttered.
"Don't get mad at me! I'm just the messenger. You two made me promise I'd tell you both and tell you together."
"You sure took your sweet time doing that, Theo!" Draco said angrily. "I had a bloody betrothal arrangement finalised last week! It would have been easier to have never entered into it than it will be to get out of it."
"I know! That's why I had to resort to desperate measures."
"Theo — I'm assuming that we're on a first name basis, yes?" Hermione asked.
"Yes we are Hermione, lovely to make your reacquaintance. I've missed being able to talk to you. Draco's a nightmare without you, love."
"Uh huh, sounds great. Voldemort's been dead for over a year, Theo. This couldn't have happened sooner?"
There was a sigh. "Okay, so first I was in America and it took a while for the news to reach me there and when it did, I was in Las Vegas and it took me a while to, you know, sober up and say my goodbyes, and then when I returned, you were already at Hogwarts, Granger, and I had to attend to my father's estate matters. Do you know who was the person who killed him, by the way? I want to send them a gift basket."
"No idea. Please continue."
"Right, so you were at Hogwarts and Draco was on house arrest. I visited him, got caught up on what happened in my absence and got the strong impression that I would not be able to get you to come with me to the Manor."
Hermione snorted. "True."
"Exactly, you wouldn't come and then Draco couldn't leave and then he could leave and like a week later his betrothal was announced. This was the best way I could think of in terms of meeting my promise to you both under the circumstances."
"You could have just told us separately!" Draco was clearly not pleased with Theo's actions.
"Not when you, Draco Malfoy, made me make a wizard's oath that I would tell you two together or not at all, prat. It added a considerable degree of difficulty to this." Theo sounded both annoyed and frustrated with his friend. "Now will you two kiss already, so I can let you out. I don't want the aurors at my door."
"You should have thought of that before knocking us out and kidnapping us, Theo!" Draco's voice was sharp and his frustration was clear.
"Your bloody oath didn't leave me with a lot of available options, Draco."
"Excuse me, Theo," Hermione interrupted.
"Yes, Granger. Please, for the love of Merlin, talk some sense into him."
"I'll get to that later. Theo, I'm not comfortable kissing anyone else as long as I am still technically in a relationship with Ron. Especially not a man who is still engaged to another."
"Betrothed."
"You know if it all leads to marriage, I don't really see a practical difference," Hermione said tartly.
"Let us out, Theo. Or you will regret it."
"Fine. You are in Nott Manor and the second I open this door I am going to apparate away. You can come talk to me after you've sorted out your affairs, Draco. And say 'hello' to Narcissa for me."
A doorway appeared in the stone room, and they both heard the pop of apparition. On the floor just past the threshold lay their two wands, with Hermione's beaded bag in the middle. Neither of them rushed out of the room.
"Can you — can you give me a week? To get things in order?" Draco asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
"Take all the time you need," she said softly.
He raised an eyebrow at her, as if in challenge.
She rolled her eyes at him. "You have a month until I owl Krum to see what he's been up to."
"It will be a week or less, Granger."
"Good. If I were you, I'd go back to Gringotts first and secure whatever assets you have in your possession into a separate vault before informing your family of any prospective lifestyle changes."
Draco smiled at her. "That sounded positively Slytherin, Granger."
She shook her head with a smile. "Just prudent planning, Malfoy."
"Can I hug you? Once. Since I'm not allowed to kiss you." His voice was tentative and unsure.
Hermione shivered. "Okay."
She found herself being enfolded in her arms, surrounded by his warmth and his scent. He smelled of firewhisky and rain and old parchment and Hermione thought she had never smelled anything so delicious in her life. Draco's strong arms felt so right around her and she leaned her head against his chest. She could feel his heart beating. She melted a bit in his embrace, tears starting to slide down her face. They stayed like that for a long time. Perhaps longer than people who were technically promised — in some fashion or another — to others ought to be doing.
"You will be hearing from me, Hermione."
"I truly hope so, Draco."
There were two more pops of apparition in Nott Manor, as they both left to disentangle their personal lives; each clinging to the shared hope that they would find a way to knit their lives together again.
