When we were shaking off our soaked coats in the Manor lobby the mood had become quiet and thoughtful between us. Everything was about to change yet again in the coming days. Draco waited patiently by the stairs for me to get my muddy boots off, leaning against the stair newel with a bored expression.

I put on my slippers and twisted my fingers anxiously by the doorway. He narrowed his eyes knowingly, "What is it now?"

I sucked on my bottom lip guiltily, still feeling woozy from all of the shots I'd taken in the last hour. I let my eyes fall onto the stone slabs of the flooring as though there was something quite interesting to be seen in the details of the rock. "I want to see de memories for myself. De ones in de dungeons."

He stepped down from the stair he was on, "So you do you know about the pensieve. I had my suspicions after I found you outside of the doorway."

I nodded, "I want to watch dem. I want to know about us before, since you clearly don' want to talk about it."

He sighed loudly and I looked up to see that he had his hands in his pockets and his eyes jammed shut. The nervous dread on his face told it all. "It's not all happy, you know," he quietly offered, "I'd rather you let me pick the ones you see if we do go down there."

I crossed my arms, "Dat's not suspicious at all."

He gradually met my eyes with uneasiness, "I wasn't the best boyfriend. Let's put it that way."

"I need to know our story, my story, good or bad," I quipped.

He groaned loudly and hung his back, staring up at the three story roof above. His jaw looked sharp in the posture as he considered the dangers of bringing me to relive our past. I felt a dull ache in the form of hope that he would cave in. It felt like it was my last chance to see them and regain the years of lost knowledge.

He finally spoke in a dark voice. His eyes were glazed in irritation when he looked back down at me, "Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you. If this leads to trivial fights over events that occurred years ago that would be most unfortunate, let's put it that way." He nodded his head curtly to follow him and he moved quickly down the hallway to the abandoned wing.

I grabbed my outdoor boots and ran after his tall figure as he swept through the Manor authoritatively. We walked through the frigid abandoned wing, down the familiar hallway, past the portraits and the room where I'd hidden in the fireplace, past the potions lab, and straight to the slick stone stairs leading to the dungeons. I stopped to lean on the wall and change into my boots again with anticipation of the disgusting environment ahead. He didn't wait for me, and I could tell he was upset about having to go there in his haste and absentminded expression.

At the end of the stairs he stopped abruptly at the iron gate and spun to face me with a stern look. "You already know what's ahead. This isn't going to be pleasant - just try to avoid looking anywhere but where you're stepping."

Then he unlocked the gate and went through, reaching back to tangle his fingers in my cloak directionally. I let him pull me forward into the absolutely foul air, holding my arm up under my nose and coughing slightly. He continued to guide me through the darkness with his wand pointed ahead of us, a small orb of light floating off the tip the only brightness in the abyss around us. I kept my eyes glued on his white sweater desperately. He kept pausing to gag but this time he managed to push beyond the worst part at the beginning without hurling.

We'd made it halfway down the pathway when a rat scampered out of the blackness and across my boots. It had a chunk of disintegrating flesh between it's incisors as it climbed over my boot in slow motion. I stepped back rapidly with a shriek and his fingers slipped out of my clothing. I had to steady myself on the wall for a moment before he swung the light around to find me again and grabbed my sleeve.

The small corridor leading to the sarcophagus appeared after several minutes of walking and we both visibly showed relief in our gaits as we slowed down and breathed deeper on the stone transition. I paused to cling to the bars of the blackened skeleton's cage, "Who is dis, Draco?" I pointed at the ancient bones with curiosity.

He rolled his eyes and a faint curl of his lip suggested he found the story funny, "That, would be Walter Powell. Some muggle in the British Parliament. He landed on this property in 1881 in a fucking hot air balloon. My ancestors apparently did not find it amusing. They locked him down here and forgot about him."

I stared at the skeleton in it's tattered gray suit, wondering why on earth anyone would land on the Malfoy property in a balloon. It must have been an unfortunate accident.

Draco had pulled out the knife from his pocket and was slicing his arm in a new place, then dipped his fingers in the hot blood that began to seep from the wound and spread it across the doorway. The entry way responded with positivity to the ancestral blood offering and swung in with a horrific creaking.

He walked around to the bowl and put both of his hands on either side of the sarcophagus apprehensively. His eyes trailed after me, his face lit up from the bright fog of the bowl before him. I was acutely aware of his timid demeanor and unwillingness to be there. He offered no further guidance forward as I ran my fingers over the stone grave supporting the pensieve.

"Who is buried 'ere?" I whispered, staring down at the Malfoy crest carved amateurly into the ancient stone.

"Armand Malfoy, the founder of the estate," he quickly replied in a stale tone. His thumb played at the edge of the tomb thoughtfully, "He was an obliviation master. I suppose I have him to thank for my abilities."

All of my theories had been true then, about the grave there and the obliviation genetics within the Malfoy blood line. He was watching my face with trepidation as my gaze fell on the moonstone.

He cut through my thoughts before I could even speak, "I know what you're going to ask, but I can't give it back to you. It's value is absolutely paramount. You gave it to me with a promise that I'd always have your heart, and sometimes I feel like my humanity is tied to it." His eyebrows pushed together with guilt as he met my face again.

I darted back and forth between the glass cage and his hopeful, pleading face. I opened my mouth to speak but just inhaled deeply, wondering if I needed to push him for it back right away. He'd proven himself to be plenty respectful in the recent past. He'd made substantive sacrifices for me and gone out of his way to make me comfortable. I was now in love with him, and he was as much my family as my parents or brother, making him a reasonable safe keeper of the stone. I shot him a sad smile, "I suppose for now, I won't ask for it back. As long as I know you will keep it safe."

Immense relief washed over his pretty features and he hung his head down dangerously close to the bowl's mist, still leaning on the tomb. I knew the experience of bringing me to the room of memories was quite draining for him. His shoulders looked pointy under the white hoodie as he clung to the stone surface before him.

I walked around the table and ran my eyes over the various labels on the vials and he turned defensively to watch my selection. There were hundreds of them, labelled in pristine order by dates and names and subtitles. I grinned as my fingers trailed over the vials with appreciation at his sharp thinking and clean organization.

"When did you start collecting dese Draco?" I asked, my fingers pinned to dates that would've occurred well before he even met me.

His reply was wistful, "A long time ago, in my sixth year at Hogwarts. When my parents started to change, and the dark lord was rising again. I knew what was coming well in advance - my father tried to beat the sensitivity out of me in anticipation of the dark mark branding. This was an easy solution."

I moved down the racks and my hand shot to my mouth as I started noticing vials with my name and descriptions on them. He stood from where he was leaning against the bowl as I neared these. I felt his fingers dancing on my waist as he pressed up against me with nervous breathing.

I pulled down the very first one with my name on it, dated on the first day of school in eighth year. It read, Hogwarts - Madeleine - Meeting Her. I turned my face to look at his over my shoulder and noticed how rosy his cheeks were.

He took it out of my fingers and held it too high for me to reach it, "Pick another one. This one isn't great." He was giving me a serious look over the bridge of his pointy nose.

I laughed and he winced slightly, "Why? It's de day we met." My fingers reached helplessly up his long arm for the glass.

He gave me a blank stare, "Because, it's embarrassing. You hit on me and I acted pathetic. And there was an accident with an ink spill.. just pick another one."

I barked out loud before I could clap a hand over my face. My smile was ear to ear as I tried in vain not to laugh any further at how sheepish he looked.

"Okay, very well... You'll have to show me all of dem someday," I cooed, tapping his nose teasingly with my finger. He swerved away too late to avoid it and flitted his eyes at the ceiling sarcastically.

I scanned a few more down, all with my name on them. I spotted my next victim that read Hogwarts - Madeleine - First Kiss. I grabbed it quickly and closed both hands around the vial before he could object. He leaned around me with wide eyes. "What one did you just take?" he demanded. With the way he was chaperoning the whole affair it felt as though I was going through his underwear drawer.

I tilted my head backwards against his chest, "First kiss. Dis one is a must." I bit my lip up at him with a huge smile.

He shook his head to the side and his long platinum hair swung with the motion, "Oh, god." He had the same expression on his face that people made when everyone in the room sang Happy Birthday to them.

I swirled out of his grip and bounced at the bowl, "Will you show me 'ow to do et?"

He stood beside me tensely and held out his hand. I decided to trust him and put the bottle in his fingers, and watched as he poured it carefully into the lethargic fog that was rolling out of the liquid below. The fog hummed and began producing a green color. His open palm was on the back on my skull as he pushed my face into the bowl.

I found myself falling through the sky towards an unfamiliar Quidditch pitch with four distinctly different colors on the posts around the perimeter. The motion was horrifying and I screamed in the memory world as the grass shot towards my face at an alarming rate. My body hovered for a split second before I hit the ground softly and looked up, almost directly into my own eyes.

A younger version of myself with blond braids woven down both sides of her face was coughing and wheezing in a Quidditch uniform directly across from me like there was a mirror between us.

"This isn't the circus, Desrosiers. You're cheap tricks won't help you out here. Get up," I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see a younger Draco hovering above us on a black broom, tossing a bludger up and down. He looked cruel and detached, yet he had an air of sweetness to him that I hadn't seen in my Draco. This Draco hadn't been through the same level of trauma and it showed in his energy and the smile on his face.

I waved my hand in front of my younger self's face but she didn't react to seeing me as her eyes shone directly through me, trying not to puke from some kind of impact. I realized I was merely a visitor to the memory, a ghost if you will. She pushed up onto her knees proudly, "You - play dirty, Malfoy. I was - waiting."

I looked around the pitch, wondering why there was no one else besides younger Madeleine and younger Draco there. Was this some kind of private Quidditch practice? They both had on Slytherin uniforms and the chest filled with Quidditch gear was open nearby.

"Precisely. Never assume you can let your guard down, Frenchie." I watched as she stood weakly on her feet, raising her chin at him defiantly while he disembarked his broom and smirked down at her. The chemistry was unbelievable. I sucked on my lips expecting them to kiss right then and there. He just pressed on with sneering comments, "This is Hogwarts. This is where champions are made. No more games, can you actually fly competitively?"

I turned my head to take in the time of day it was, startled at how early they had met. The sun hadn't even fully rose yet. She had made some kind of defensive comment and he batted back with suggesting they see what she could do in the air. I watched as they flew off into the sky, twisting around my head at a near 90 degree angle to watch him throw things at her, test her speed by chasing her... it went on for quite a while.

Finally when I had given up expecting to see anything tangible I was shocked by a chaotic crash. She had flown directly into him and they hurtled towards the ground with a deft thud. She was on him, pinning him to the ground aggressively and whispering something in his ear. I ran across the pitch to where they had fallen only to almost stumble into his memory form as he scrambled away from her in a panic.

"You're such a freak!" He screamed. I watched as they argued back and forth, but his composure was lessening by the second as my younger self kept closing the gap on him, untying her hair seductively and batting her eyes at him. It was then when they were arguing about the inappropriate way that she'd tailored her Quidditch uniform to fit unnaturally tight that I realized how much a fox she was being. She was intentionally coming onto him, and he looked terrified and cornered. Eventually he stopped backing up and she reached him, sliding her arms around his neck.

"No, I can't," he said, pulling her arms downwards. It looked awkward suddenly as her face fell from the rejection. I felt empathy for them both, knowing I'd repeated that exact same face with him the night of the ballroom in contemporary reality. They whispered a few other lines back and forth before I heard him say, "Fuck it." He pulled her into a passionate kiss and they ripped at each other, their green Quidditch robes blowing around them in the early morning sun.

Then as quickly as they had begun he seemed to panic as she reached down towards his trousers. He mounted his broom and left, and I felt myself being tugged away from the memory and back to reality.

I looked up at Draco who was watching me intently, his blue eyes absolutely glowing in the presence of the bowl. He had his fingers on his chin and the green digital images of the watch on his wrist were twisted towards me.

"Well, now you know how much a pretentious prick I was," he drawled, never breaking eye contact.

I wrapped my arms around him, "You still are, don' worry. But I am so glad I was so bold, otherwise I wouldn't 'ave you today."

He stood awkwardly in the hug, patting my hair like I was a toddler hugging him that he was unrelated to. "My father was forcing me into a different arrangement. You were an unstoppable force though, you had me breaking every rule. You won me over that day. After that, I couldn't stop thinking about kissing you."

I pulled away from him and ran back to the wall while he collected the memory back into it's vial. I recalled suddenly his infatuation with the one named Moonstone and my eyes scoured the endless glass jars for the familiar verbiage. I gave up when I couldn't locate it and moved back to the original line and stopped with my mouth open. Hogwarts - Halloween - Madeleine - Virginity.

I snatched it and ran back to the bowl as he was corking the previous vial. He looked down at the one I had chosen and completely turned around with his face in his hands, clearly floored with humiliation. He groaned loudly, "I knew you would pick that one." He held his hand out without turning fully around and I placed the glass in it, watching as he shook the liquid out into the bowl for me.

I stuck my head into the vapors and suddenly I was in a dark room filled with people in costumes. There was a green fireplace against one wall, and a bubbling cauldron spilling purple fog against a wall of glass that seemed to give a perfect view into a body of water beyond. It was obviously Halloween given the way that people were drinking and dressed up. The party was raging obnoxiously and my ghost form was constantly bombarded with passersby moving straight through me in the densely packed room.

Draco was right in front of me chatting loudly with the Slytherin boys who'd been to the Manor recently. He was making no effort to blend in with the festivities, wearing a black long sleeved shirt and black joggers.

He was shaking his head, flushed, looking high as a kite and very drunk. He sipped on a drink deeply, "Nah, she's just being a tease. She doesn't really mean it. I mean she's hot as fuck though. It's flattering." He smirked sideways, handsomely, and jabbed his elbow into the boy I recognized as Blaise Zabini, who smirked back knowingly.

Another boy with awfully jutting teeth laughed menacingly, "Why don't we just see how much she means it, Draco? About time you got it in with a girl," He tapped at a glass vial filled with white powder, adding it to multiple drinks before them. They all took drinks and downed them entirely, save for a few of the drugged cups which remained full at the side. The boy finished chugging his drink and pointed at the remaining drinks, "Take one for her too. Maybe then she'll let you know how she really feels."

Draco eyed the drinks, his eyes looking hooded all of a sudden, "Not really sure that's necessary, Warrington." He shook out his hair, his eyes suddenly turning black with the drugs he'd just consumed. His face suddenly changed to shock as he processed the state of high he'd just reached. I watched as his eyes widened and his fingers played with his collar.

Blaise leaned towards him, "Did Madeleine really kiss you?"

He snorted back at him, "Oh yeah. She's a complete nutter. Tackled me out of the air. I hardly made it out of the pitch before she had her hands in my pants." His eyes glazed over with a small, telling grin and Blaise raised his eyebrows, sipping at his drink. It was obvious that Draco had no problem with the encounter that he was trying to pass off as unwanted.

One of the other boys poked at Draco, "What about Greengrass? Are you not marrying that wench? Looked pretty fucked up just now." He had a wicked eyebrow high in the air with entertainment.

Draco's face fell into disgust, "Don't ruin my night, Montague."

Another boy pointed towards an entrance to a set of stairs and his arm went straight through my ghostly chest, startling me backwards, "Look! There she is!"

They all turned and I gasped, watching the Fawley girl emerge from the archway shoving people aside and behind her, myself, wearing an icy dragon costume. I looked highly inebriated, but incredibly stunning. I'd clearly spent hours getting ready. My hair flowed like bright rivers over my shoulders, my face and neck painted with glittering white and blue makeup to look like perfect scales. My dress was super form fitting and long, my breasts pronounced favorably high.

One of the boys smacked the nearby table, "I'm telling you Draco, if you don't make a move I will."

Draco scowled at him and his eyebrows furrowed in a familiar fashion, "Alright Flint, watch me." He put his empty cup down and started shoving through people and I followed, watching as his arm darted out to grab mine dramatically and my figure spun in shock into his arms.

My younger self glared up at him and an argument immediately began. She seemed to suddenly feel isolated with him, looking around herself in confusion. They bickered for a minute, both flushed and wasted, before he reached forward and pulled her towards him by her waist, gripping her chin. She stared up at him with an unmasked desire sketched into her features.

The tension was cut by the boys from before barreling through the crowd with the remaining drugged cups in their hands like liquid bombs. They threw their arms around Draco obnoxiously, seemingly unaware of younger Madeleine who stood there gawking at their behavior. Then the boy with terrible teeth held out drugged drinks to Draco. As soon as they'd arrived they left, and I watched in surprise as younger Madeleine grabbed a drink from Draco's fingers and downed it without knowledge.

The younger Draco looked stunned, like he had no idea what to do in the given circumstances. He drank the other spiked drink as well to my surprise, and soon they were kissing, unable to contain the flow of the evident euphoria. Their make out was unparalleled; it was nearly pornographic.

I watched as Champagne was soon poured over their heads by the boy named Warrington, who had returned like a wrath. Then they decided to run into the girl's lavatory, where they kicked everyone out. This part became especially interesting. I watched younger Madeleine hover awkwardly and drunkenly by the sinks as Draco slammed all of the stalls open to ensure no one else was in the room.

Then they were kissing passionately at the sinks, pausing only to whisper breathy remarks at each other and to tear his shirt off. They took further shots from a flask he took out of his pants. Suddenly he was ripping her underwear down, then his own and I was sure they had already started when he pulled away from her hardly, eyeing her down. I had a hand over my mouth in disbelief at his awkwardness. He was usually incredibly confident and dominating with me, whereas this Draco was nervous and immature.

"You sure? Don't take this lightly. This isn't a thoughtless commitment you're about to make," he was saying, his eyes intently focused on her face. Innocence flowed from them both in their hazy states and desperate movements.

She looked into his face, full of some kind of lustrous assurance, "Give it to me. Now."

Their bodies began writhing erotically as he lost his virginity, his face a symphony of reactions as he pushed into her. They fucked for minutes and it looked incredibly steamy, hands grabbing hair, nails digging into each other, only for him to pull away at the end with a dumbfounded expression. He had a slight appearance of being horrified as it dawned on him what he'd done. She of course, was oblivious to the gravity of the circumstances as she jumped off the counter and approached him.

Young Madeleine tried to kiss him again, and he only whispered "I'm sorry," and sprinted from the bathroom. My vision of the scene clouded and I was being pulled out of the memory as it concluded.

I stood back from the bowl in consternation, feeling sweaty from the unexpected realization that our first time had been so messy and accidental. I clutched either sides of the bowl, thinking deeply about all of the details I'd just learned. Draco was next to me frowning with dread. He had his arms crossed defensively, clearly worried.

"Who's Greengrass?" I asked in confusion.