Smutty memories ahead, you're fair warned. To make up for not having Hermione in the mix until next week, here's an early chapter! Shout out to my alpha, cls2256, you're amazing! Check her out on ao3. I'm completely blown away that people actually want to read what I've written so thank you guys! Feel free to review and follow.
"She won't forget you, mate. This is Hermione we're talking about. She's the smartest witch of our age. Her brain will be fine." Harry offers.
I clasp my hands together and look to Harry with pleading desperation.
"I need to know. What happened? Exactly."
Harry sighs, seeming to not want to rehash the details to me at this moment, but starts regardless.
"We were at that press conference, little Q&A about the campaign for Minister of Magic— all routine, really," He ruffles his hair again. "In comes this bloke, shooting spells at Hermione. My first thought was just to get her to safety," He pauses. "It's my fault. I launched myself at her to get her down, and we went flying off the platform. She smacked her head against the marble floor. It was all I could do to get her out of the line of fire."
"Who was the bloke?"
I wonder silently which guard I could pay off to take care of him, permanently. The look in Harry's eyes as I ask this makes my blood start to boil.
"Erm-" My voice rises. "You lot did catch him…didn't you?"
"Not exactly… He – he got away…"
I'm about to lose my temper again as a medi-witch, in the same sickly lime green robes, exits Hermione's room and turns to me.
"She's waking. Her speech seems normal. Would you like to enter?"
I stand up straight; my posture is perfect— as always— as I rise to my full height of 6'2" and head held high. My father always said, "One's posture can exert confidence even when one is lacking."
A thought occurs, and I hesitate. What if Hermione lost her memory forever? Would she remember me? Or will she remember me as nothing more than a Death Eater? My left arm feels uncomfortable, even though I know the mark is faded to nothing more than a shadow. Harry correctly interprets my hesitation and offers to see her first.
"…Yeah, I'll be right here. Thanks, Potter."
He enters the room, leaving the door cracked so I can hear everything. Sitting with my ear to a door, my heart beats hard inside my chest— I am more nervous than I can ever remember being.
"Hey 'Mione, how're you feeling?" I hear Harry say softly.
"I'm alright, I suppose. My head is positively pounding. The medi-witch should be bringing a potion for pain back shortly."
"Do you-" but he's cut off.
"Where's Ron? I would have thought he'd be with you seeing as his girlfriend is in St. Mungo's." Just like that, all hope is gone. She's gone. The only person to ever inspire me for more no longer remembers I'm worth encouraging. My world comes to a halt. Will there ever be a wedding now? My heart aches as images of our time together flash through my head. I get lost in a particular memory, about a year after our engagement.
"I just don't see the rush, Draco." She presses her lips to mine. I pull her to me, my hand in her hair and my other pressing her into me at her lower back. I swipe my tongue across her bottom lip.
"Don't you want to be my wife?" I whisper in her ear as I leave wet kisses down her neck, nipping as I go. She moans.
"Of course, Draco. I've said yes, but I'd really like to wait a bit. Both of our careers are sooo close! I want us to plan when we aren't so..." she trails off as I make my way to her breasts.
"Please, 'Mione. I want you as my wife" I lift her up, and she wraps her legs around me as I carry us to our bed.
I smile. Hermione Granger always did get her way. We are set to be married after the vote for the next Minister. Were set, I reminded myself. Harry steps back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He runs a hand through his hair.
"Well… she thinks it's 2001, mate," he rubs his neck sheepishly.
"2001? That's - that's.. before we even got assigned together. She's no idea how much I've changed. That's also a year before her and Ron split." I blanche and fall back to my seat.
Potter smiles. "Really only a few months before they split, if you're-"
"Is my misery amusing to you, Potter?" I say flatly.
"Draco, we're friends— this is just as important to me as it is to you. Knowing Hermione, it was already over at this point is all I meant. Ron's still family to me, but Hermione is like my sister, too. She was happy with you. I want her to be happy more than anything."
"And if she never remembers I make her happy? What am I supposed to do? Start over? Make her love me again?"
Harry shrugged. "You already did it once."
The media-witch enters her room with the aforementioned pain potions, and once she leaves, I peek in her room— she's sleeping. Silently, I slip inside and walk to her bedside. She looks as beautiful as when we parted ways this morning. She had a smile on her face as we kissed goodbye.
"I'll see you tonight." She winked.
Now, who knows what will happen? My thoughts stray to her with Ron— I can tell he's never really given up hope. He never liked us together, anyhow. Weaslebee, I think with a roll of my eyes. I place my hand upon her cheek and kiss her forehead.
"I'll always love you," I whisper.
She takes a deep breath, still sleeping, and sighs. "Draco…"
I hesitate, unsure if she's woken or if it's merely her subconscious. Apparently, the latter, as she says nothing further. I regain hope, however— I'm not entirely gone from her mind. I make to exit the room when a vase of beautiful gardenias on the bedside table catches my eye. A memory of my mother and I invades my mind— I was a child, no older than six, walking through the gardens of Malfoy Manor.
"Mmm… Gardenias," Mother says, bending down to sniff the fragrant white flower. "Every time I smell these, I think of your grandmother Druella. They were her favorite— come, Draco, would you like to sniff?"
From that moment on, I associate the smell of Gardenias not with my grandmother, but with Mother instead. Amazing, how powerful a simple smell could be.
An idea pops into my head. I take a pillow from the cabinet as I made to exit, but not before I turned back to take another glance at my sleeping fiancée.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," I whisper softly, even though it's only the afternoon.
I gaze lazily at the stars from the balcony, sneering at what fate has thrown upon me. I hear Blaise going on about happier times as if that's what I need to be focusing on in the present moment. Such damn optimism. I try not to look at the empty seat as I turn to him. Her seat.
I feel the familiar burn down my throat as I shoot the rest of my firewhiskey. The ice tinkles around the glass as I signal Blaise for more.
"Almost nine years. Gone. Just like that."
I can hear a slur in my words— the firewhiskey has done its job, and I, frankly, don't give a damn. Blaise sits in apparent thought. He sips his drink,
"Nine years, you say? So – the Weasle, then? Does he know?"
"Oh, I'm sure it won't be long," I say dryly.
"Look, Draco, this is simple-"
"Simple!?" I cut him off. "This is all but simple, Blaise!"
"Are you finished wallowing in your self-pity? All I mean to say is that you've been here before. It's not ideal, but this has all already happened once before. Just duplicate things until her memory returns." he shrugs.
Could it be that simple? She did fall for me once…
I clap him on the back and thank him for the firewhiskey, then walk to the edge of his property and disapparate to the manor. It's late, I need a shower and some rest. I throw my suitcoat over the chair in the parlor; I'll hang it up tomorrow. I loosen my tie as I make my way to the bathroom, swaying slightly as I walked. My mouth is dry, begging for water to quench the thirst Blaise's firewhiskey had left me with. I ignore my mouth's plea for refreshment as I stumble into the bathroom, fumbling to turn the shower on. I succeed after a minute, and then shed my clothes and step inside. The water comes down hot and steamy, turning my fair skin pink. I pick up a bar of soap and lather my chest, losing myself to memories of us coming forward.
"What now?"
I whisper playfully and seductively, with her arms pinned above her head with my left hand, her back pressed against the wall, water beating against my back. She clasps my lower lip in her teeth. I run my free hand down the side of her torso, earning a moan from her lips. I explore her mouth with my tongue and move my hand to her breasts. Her nipples harden and elongate under my touch. I release her arms, no longer playful, and begin to worship her body with my mouth, trailing kisses and nips from her neck to her waistline. I drop to my knees and give her a quick smile as I spread her legs. My lips brush her clit softly then I flick my tongue.
Gently, I suck her clit, and her hands fly to my blonde hair. I take a finger and slide inside her. Slick as I circle her walls, all the while, flicking my tongue and suckling her. I enter another finger, pressing down on her spot, rotating my fingers faster and give a few pumps. Her moans become louder as she cries out my name.
"Draco!"
I can feel her stomach clench as her insides begin to pulse, signaling the beginning of her orgasm. She screams, throwing her head back in ecstasy as she climaxes. My cock is hard with a hunger for her; I stand before she's done pulsing. I place myself at her entrance and push in firmly as I pick her up and press her to the shower wall. I fill her easily, and she pleads for more. Thrusting into her, I lean down and access her mouth as she moans. Faster and faster. I begin to feel her walls tremble around me. She bucks her hips in rhythm to my thrusts—it's sensational.
"Hermione, you are a goddess..."
I whisper to her as I begin to reach my own climax. I rub her clit, and she comes undone around me, crying out my name. I release my own, and I fill her with my seed as I cry out hers.
"Hermione.."