50 miles west of Aberdeen
October 14, 2006
"Isn't it obvious?" He smirked. "You're a witch."
Hermione looked at him incredulously and laughed. "Oh, I get it now."
"What?" He was completely taken aback by her reaction.
"Yes. Your entire life you've been taught what a non-magical is, how they act, how they are inferior. So, you meet me and discover that I don't fit neatly into that box, so rather than try and reassess your own worldview and your own beliefs, you simply adjust me to fit into yours," she explained mechanically.
"A minute ago you agreed with me that there's something odd about your assignment here, and now you're saying I'm just – rationalizing?" Draco's face was a mask of confusion.
"No – you have a point that there is in fact something off about my assignment," she conceded. "But let's take your hypothesis and consider it." Hermione ripped a piece of paper from the notebook she always seemed to carry and wrote on it Hypothesis 1: I am a Witch.
"Were I a witch, presumably I would have experienced bouts of accidental magic in my youth, yes?" She now wrote an x underneath and, to the right of it added No accidental magic.
"Then there's the question of the assignment – if I were a witch, why would that explain my assignment?" Hermione pointed out. "Your assertion seems to have no basis."
Draco chuckled and she looked at him, unamused, before he spoke. "You have a magical scar," he told her.
"What?" she questioned, though her right hand immediately fell to the scar on the right side of her face, the one typically covered by her hair.
"Ah – so you've suspected it as well." His typical smirk was present once again.
"No." She denied it, though he could tell he was getting to her. "It's not magical."
"Then tell me, how did you get it?" he pushed.
She looked at him for a moment, her face shifting from obstinate, to thoughtful, to fearful.
"You don't remember, do you?" Draco interrupted her thoughts, his voice notably softer.
She shook her head, the fear continuing to mark her face as she took purposeful breaths, as if trying to force herself to calm down. "How did you know?" she unconsciously whispered.
"Most people, well at least wizards, but I assume people in general, remember their childhood," he pointed out gently.
"But I was in a car crash! I had a concussion – I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for this," she said as she stroked the scar, desperately trying to recall the exact clinical diagnosis for a concussion.
"Granger," he continued, "do you remember your car crash?"
Hermione looked at him, unsure. "Somewhat – but I've never been sure if it's a true memory or simply a projection of what I assume had occurred. It's been 17 years."
"That scar – I don't know much about car crashes, but I am familiar with magical injuries. Do you recognize the shape of it?" Draco asked.
She frowned. "I've honestly always avoided looking at it."
Draco squinted his eyes at that. "Well you may not recognize it, but your scar bears a striking resemblance to Orion."
She physically jolted back, her hand now brushing against the scar as if to confirm or deny this. "What do you mean? The constellation?" She tried to recall the stars in her head, but personally had never been one to care for such meaningless study. The arbitrary movements of the stars within sight from earth held no bearing on her existence.
"Yes. I've completed studies in astronomy, and that scar is eerily similar," he pointed out. She couldn't help it; she jogged to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She found it physically difficult to look at the scar but, once she did, she had to admit he had a point. The entire area was pink with red dots throughout. She couldn't confirm his specific assessment without further research but she was willing, for the moment, to assume he was correct.
She walked back and retook her seat, noodles forgotten between them, and continued, "So I'm assuming you have a theory? Let's hear it."
Draco did a mental dance at the small victory and cleared his throat to begin. "I believe that something happened – either you used your magic in defense or perhaps it was just accidental magic. Whatever it was, someone must have decided that you couldn't be trusted with your magic. Or," Draco paused, "perhaps Death Eaters came across you and simply altered your memory and removed your magic to prevent you from entering the wizarding world." Neither theory alone seemed sufficient, but Draco couldn't come up with a better explanation.
Hermione frowned. "You think someone removed my magic because my parents are non-magicals?"
Draco shrugged, "I'm not sure."
Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. The WEA has no issues with witches and wizards born from non-magicals. So, were I a witch, it would suggest my magic was removed by someone before the Event. If this was the case, then no one in the Corps would know about it. So I don't see how that could have anything to do with my assignment in the uninhabitable zone?"
Draco's eyes lit up as understanding dawned on him. "Oh!"
"What?" Hermione pleaded.
"It was because of you!" Draco practically jumped at the realization.
"What was because of me? Spit it out, Malfoy!"
"My proximity to you took away my magic!" Draco stated triumphantly. She looked incredulous and he pointed out. "Have you come up with a better explanation?"
"No." And she had been extensively studying this. Her initial hypothesis that the radiation had removed his magic had proven false and further tests had failed to yield any new insights into the matter.
"OK – so here we go." He was standing up and pacing the length of her small living room. "Something happened – we don't know precisely what – but the result was that someone in authority, to be determined, altered your memory and did something to your magic.
"Now, I'm not an expert in removing someone's ability to use magic, but my understanding is it's inherently unnatural. Witches and wizards were born to wield magic! To remove the ability is tantamount to removing a limb. So," he paused and put up a finger as he considered his next words carefully. Hermione, in the silence, wondered if this was what it was like for others when she had a eureka moment, and she once again forced herself to reconsider the man standing before her.
"What if, as you got older and your magic grew but had no outlet, it poured itself into the spell binding your magic? If so, perhaps the spell was able to expand outwards! Maybe the witches and wizards in the Corps discovered proximity to you led to their magic failing. And maybe they sent you out here where you wouldn't be able to affect anyone." Draco finished and looked at her expectantly.
She felt like her world crashed around her right then. She tried to remind herself – this was a hairbrained theory that she was entertaining for academic purposes and might not be true. But the puzzle pieces were fitting – only the picture looked nothing like the box.
"So you're saying they sent me out here – what – to rot?" Hermione had tears in her eyes. She had considered the Corps the closest thing she had to family – they had her utmost and complete loyalty. And now – she was looking back and trying to figure out what happened. "I don't recall being around wizards and witches much except for –" and she covered her mouth as the realization hit.
"Your wizard mentor?" he surmised.
"But – he –" Hermione struggled to find the words. "I can't believe he would do this. I can believe the Corps could have unsavory figures but he – he's my friend. I believe he genuinely cares for me."
Draco considered this. "I don't know the Corps or your wizard mentor. It's possible he simply told a superior who took action, and your mentor could be none the wiser," Draco pointed out which oddly comforted Hermione. "Actually, I guess there's another possibility."
"What?" Hermione frowned.
"Well, it's possible the Corps doesn't know your specific predicament and perhaps just thinks something about you is causing others' magic to fail. Maybe they had nothing to do with you losing your powers." He shrugged.
Hermione considered it, once again attempting to reconcile her experiences with the Corps with this notion that they would send her on an assignment under false pretenses. The Corps were notoriously transparent - it was a fundamental tenet.
There had to be something she was missing - something more to the situation that she wasn't able to see from her cabin in the middle of the uninhabitable zone. But at the moment, she felt completely helpless - lost in an endless circle of questions.
"What do I do now?" Hermione mumbled aloud.
It was an odd role reversal. Hermione was suddenly out of her element, questioning everything and everyone she had ever known, forced to seek answers from someone completely foreign to her - someone she was fairly certain she shouldn't trust. But there was no one else - even if she weren't stuck in the uninhabitable zone, the Corps itself was suspect, including her Wizard mentor.
"We get your powers back of course." Draco smiled, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Hermione scoffed, "How? You don't have your magic."
Draco shook his head, "I may not know exactly what was done to you – but a spell that can continue in perpetuity must be rooted in something. I'm guessing, in this instance, your memory issues are related. I think if we can recover your memory, the spell may break."
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, thinking of the books she had read on psychology and hypnosis. "And how do you propose we do that?"
Now he smiled, a cocky smirk covering his face. "I have a natural gift with the mind arts; I believe I can help you."
She looked wary. "Like hypnosis?"
Draco shrugged. "I have no idea what hypnosis is, but if you let me, I believe I can help you recover what you lost."
Hermione let his words dance around in her head and considered his theory in full. There was a certain amount of logic to it – Hermione's memory loss was peculiar. Her current assignment was admittedly dubious. And the scar that marked her face – a scar which she conveniently covered up all the time – was seemingly unnatural.
She still didn't know if she should trust Malfoy though. His story of why he had left the Death Eaters had felt incomplete. And his rationale for why he thought her a witch most certainly felt like a stretch. Further, it still didn't quite resonate that the Corps would send her out to the middle of nowhere simply because she affected magic.
Perhaps he was a master manipulator and had weaved an intricate tale to get his wand back? But there was something in his words 'help you recover what you lost' that caused a visceral reaction. Was there something she lost that she could get back?
"I'm not giving you your wand back," she stated. He nodded in agreement, understanding these were her terms.
"I won't need it," he assured her. "So, are you ready?"
"What?" she asked, taken aback.
"Might as well start now," he suggested.
"Oh. Ok. What do we do?" she asked.
Draco took a moment to consider. "I'm going to try and help you remember the car accident," he told her. She recoiled in response, but before she had a chance to interrupt, he held out his hand and continued, "It likely won't be pleasant – but I believe if you can remember this – what truly happened, it will open the door to other memories."
"But how?" Hermione asked, voice betraying her constant curiosity.
"If I had my magic, I would use Legilimency to go into your mind and help to identify and separate the false memories. Without it, I will have to guide you with my words," Draco explained.
Hermione nodded and gestured for him to get going.
"OK," Draco started, "I want you to close your eyes. Try and clear your mind."
She nodded and complied, attempting to clear her head of all thoughts, though her busy mind betrayed her.
As if he somehow knew what she was thinking, Draco started speaking again, softer this time. "Don't fret if you can't fully clear your mind. It's a difficult exercise for even the most disciplined Occlumens."
She felt she should be offended by this statement but nodded nonetheless.
"Go back to the day of the car accident 17 years ago."
Hermione frowned as she tried to think of that day, but all she could remember was sitting in the backseat of their Ford Sierra. She tried to look at her parents but they were facing forward as they had a conversation she couldn't make out. She looked out the window and non-descript streets streaked past.
"What do you see?" Draco asked.
"I'm in the back seat of the car," she told him, eyebrows drawn.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
He could practically see her eyes darting left to right under her closed lids as she fought for the memory. "I don't know," she said lightly. "Everything is – blurry."
"Do you recognize anything in your surroundings?" Draco asked.
She tried to focus, but the world surrounding the memory was unfamiliar. "No – it's just out of focus."
"OK – do you have a book or anything in the car? Something distinct you can hold onto?" Draco asked.
She realized the backseat was empty. She shook her head.
"Alright," Draco said gently, "try and force your mind to remember what happened before you got into the car."
She obeyed and trained her mind but nothing came.
"Try and remember a simple fact from the car, something that a wizard altering your memory wouldn't think to change – perhaps something you were wearing or a mood you felt – and cling to that."
She nodded and, recalling the pink cardigan she had on in her memory, focused in on that. Suddenly she was jolted by a scene of her younger self packing a bag in her bedroom.
"What is it? What do you see?" Draco asked, curious.
"I'm – packing a bag," Hermione said and watched as her younger self methodically added clothing to the bag. She grabbed a dilapidated old stuffed otter and seemed to consider it for a while before pushing it to the bottom of the duffel. "Freckles!" She said instinctually and opened her eyes in pure amazement.
"What is it? What did you see?" Draco asked.
"I had a stuffed Otter – Freckles. I don't know how I forgot about it," Hermione said, frowning. "I was packing a bag – for what, I don't know, but I saw it."
"So, you were going on a trip?" Draco suggested.
She shrugged. "Perhaps. It's not entirely clear. Maybe I was simply packing away clothes from the summer season?"
Draco hummed, "Alright, do you want to continue?"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed and immediately closed her eyes, attempting to clear her mind and awaiting further instruction.
"Go back to your room where you were packing," Draco instructed. Hermione thought of the otter and was back there. "This time focus on what you were packing."
"A couple of shirts, some shorts, socks," she mumbled, then paused. "Nothing notable."
Draco nodded to himself. "OK, try and stay in the memory; what did you do after you packed?"
She sat still, only her face moving as she fought to remember. She zipped the small duffel bag and headed downstairs. Her parents were in the kitchen and appeared to be placing items from the refrigerator into a cooler. Hermione urged them to turn around, anxious to see their faces, but this was a memory; suddenly she followed her younger self to a closet where she pulled out a light rain jacket.
"Hermione! Are you ready to go?" She felt a pang in her chest as she heard her father's voice so casually.
"Yes da!" she responded, running happily.
"Hermione?" She heard and blinked her eyes open to see Draco Malfoy looking at her with a pensive stare. She realized she had been crying and quickly wiped her eyes. "I think that's enough for today," he said.
The pair sat in an amicable silence for a few moments before Hermione spoke, her voice light and melodic, a sharp contrast to her typical clinical demeanor. "I saw my parents – they were putting food in a cooler. And I heard my father's voice," she told him. "I think," her voice became just moderately edgier, "I think we were going camping." And as she said it, she became more certain.
Draco nodded at her contemplatively. "So, the car crash happened on the way?"
She shrugged, "I guess?" He nodded and she looked out the window – startled by the black of the sky. She felt a sudden urge to go out and try and find that constellation, Orion. She looked to Draco. "Thank you. I'm still," she paused, struggling to make eye contact, "not sure what to believe, but I can now remember my father's voice. Thank you for that."
He gave her a small smile and watched as she left for her bedroom for the night. Theories were swirling in his head – impossible theories he couldn't make sense of. As he lay on the couch, scratching at his right shoulder, his dreams filled with visions of a haunted campground.
Quick heads up: I'll be posting a short "interlude" on Monday or Tuesday. This is an "extra" scene so to speak that didn't quite make the cut for Wednesday's update but is still a fun 1500 words. It's technically not vital in terms of the plot but is hopefully still a fun read. There will likely be more of these as we begin to move into the more plot heavy portion of the story - they should be easy to differentiate so if you just want to get to the plot and don't care for short interludes, you're welcome to skip (I may or may not be one of those people...) This means the story will now be 41 Chapters (and likely more as we keep going) but the core 40 chapters will continue to post every Wednesday and Sunday (so long story short - even if it's longer, the time frame for posting is the same.)
In other news...As always, thank you to my excellent Beta ElizColl for her tireless work on this. Translating what's going on with Draco/Hermione from my head onto paper is not as easy as it seems...
As always, appreciate all comments/feedback! I'm also on Tumblr at canttouchthis87.