Chapter 12

Draco eyed Granger where she sat on what had quickly become 'her' couch. Not having much else to do these past few weeks, he had tried to goad her by walking around in a towel and leering at her. She was obviously attracted to him but continued to completely ignore him, seemingly unbothered by his behavior. It was infuriating. Lately, she'd stayed away from their common room entirely.

But now she was back, and he wondered what the hell she was still doing at Hogwarts. He had assumed she'd leave after doing whatever it was that she needed to do here.

Did she have a death wish?

The Carrows and a few other choice Death Eaters were arriving tomorrow evening to implement the Ministry's new educational reforms. He didn't know what exactly would change, but clearly Granger would be a target under the new system. He had seen the Carrows torture Muggles and Muggle-borns at the Manor. What would stop them from doing that to her? Or to any of the other Muggle-born students, for that matter?

Draco didn't know exactly why she was here, or what she was working on, but he didn't think she would actually be stupid enough to stay for the impending transition. She must know it was coming.

So why was she still here?

He fidgeted in the armchair, finally resting his elbows on his knees. He couldn't figure out what he should do. Would the Dark Lord know if he warned her? He hadn't had to put Snape's lessons to use yet and didn't know if he'd be able to guard his thoughts and memories well enough. But what if the Dark Lord never found out? Why would he care, anyway? He wouldn't know what to look for. And even if Draco was asked about Granger, maybe he was a proficient enough Occlumens at this point.

Regardless, he didn't think he could stomach someone else he knew being killed or maimed if he could prevent it so easily. He'd have to take his chances. Decided, he stood up and walked over to her.

Granger looked up from her book, and Draco was taken aback by her expression. They hadn't spoken to each other at all this year, but her brown eyes looked surprisingly affectionate, if a bit sorrowful. A distracted part of his mind registered that she was quite pretty with her hair pulled back in a plait.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

She bit her lip, looking like she was about to cry. Maybe the war had started to affect her and her friends and family as well. He had heard about the attack on the Weasel wedding this summer. And there had been other targets, including her parents. Muggle-borns, blood traitors, and non-compliant Ministry officials—all were fair game under the new regime.

All the more reason to tell her.

He sat down on 'her' coffee table and ran his hand over the back of his neck, unsure of how to start.

"Granger…" Simple was often best. "They're coming." He flicked his eyes up to her. Her expression didn't change. In fact, she didn't look surprised at all. "They're coming tomorrow evening."

Why wasn't she saying anything? Did she already know?

"You have to tell McGonagall so that you can get the other Muggle-borns out. You've got a bit more than a day and a half to do it."

She sniffed and nodded her head, wiping at a tear that had slipped down her cheek. Why wasn't she reacting? She must already know. But how?

"Granger, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, Malfoy, I did. Thank you for telling me."

She sighed and looked up at him. It was unsettling. Her eyes were soft, like she cared about him. What was going on?

"This isn't fair to you," she continued, starting to collect her books slowly. "I'll tell McGonagall to announce that the students have already been evacuated."

He didn't think he'd heard correctly. "What? Wait – they're already gone?" They must have anticipated the move and acted early. That was good, but what did she mean by not fair to him? Something was off with her.

"Yes, we knew. We moved them yesterday in secret. But," she looked up to him. "I don't think there's much point in keeping it a secret now."

"Granger, stop! What do you mean by not fair to me?"

She stood up, packing the last of her books into her satchel. "I'm going to leave now. I can't do much more here anyway."

Something was wrong. He didn't understand. Draco stood up, grabbed her arm, and turned her to face him. He expected her to yell at him, but she didn't. She looked down at his hand on her arm, again, unsurprised. As if she'd anticipated his touch. As if she was familiar with it.

Something had happened. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Granger," he demanded, his voice rough with annoyance. "What the fuck is going on? What did you mean?"

She cleared her throat and looked up at him. "This is the fourth time you've warned me and the others to leave the castle in the past day and a half. I'm just going to leave now. It's not fair to you. I'll leave my bedroom door open so you can see that I've left."

The fourth time he'd warned her? Draco didn't remember warning her once, let alone three times. A sick sensation of unease settled in his stomach as he realized what must have happened.

"You Obliviated me?"

Granger nodded slowly, sadly. "So that you won't have a memory that can be used against you."

He recoiled a step, feeling like he'd been slapped in the face. He was somewhat relieved in that no one would know, but also shocked that she had done that to him. And angry.

"Three times?" She nodded again. He couldn't keep the building rage out of his voice. "So you thought you'd mess with my head for my own good? What right did you have, Granger?"

She took a deep breath. Her eyes were so sad; it was hard to hold onto his anger. "You wanted me to. Because Voldemort might see what you've done when you go home."

Draco flinched. No one was supposed to know the Dark Lord was at the Manor. He must have told her. No wonder he'd asked her to get rid of his memories; he'd be tortured and killed if anyone found out he'd said anything.

Hermione drew her wand, and Draco felt his heart speed up. She was going to do it again. Instinctively, he reached for his wand.

She looked up at him. "It's your choice, Draco. It always is. I won't do it if you don't want me to."

She spoke with a familiarity he didn't feel towards her. Clearly there was more she wasn't telling him. He pressed her wand arm down.

"Granger, wait. What else happened?"

To his horror, he saw a few more tears fall from her eyes and felt an urgent desperation to know. She shook her head. "It's a long story. There's no point in telling you now. When this is over, if I can, I promise I'll remove the charm and restore your memories. You didn't want to have them. For your own safety."

He believed her.

Shite.

Draco was going to let Granger remove his memories. A brief moment of panic overcame him. He felt like he was about to jump off a cliff.

"Alright."

He watched another tear leave her eye as she raised her wand to him.

"It's been humbling, watching you struggle with yourself, Draco. I hope we'll meet again in better circumstances."

He didn't know what she was referring to, but a surge of warmth spread within him at her praise. Draco stared down the length of her wand and braced himself as if for impact.

"Obliviate."

Chapter end notes:

To paraphrase from one of you lovely readers:

Dramione: come for the smut, stay for the angst.

Two part epilogue coming up next.