Bittersweet Memories
A/n: This is a remake of Bittersweet, an old fanfic of mine.
Chapter 2: Waking up to Nothingness
The silence in the room suffocated its occupants like putrid poison filtering the air.
Harry stared at the slumbering face of nemesis for a long time, then at Hermione, who was visibly tense, body strangely poised for combat.
"What is he—what is he doing here?" he finally inquired a minute later, his tone coming out hoarse, as though he was trying to put a reign on his barely concealed fury. Hermione recognised the look on her friend's face too well; she had worn the same expression before in the presence of Draco Malfoy, years ago when they were both still in school.
"I saved him from a terrible fate." She answered in a defiant voice, taking in her companions' stunned reactions with a trace of pity. She knew everything was a perplexing mess at the moment, and very difficult to understand. Even she, Hermione Granger, had trouble digesting the fact that she was protecting Draco Malfoy from his own family from this evening onwards, a laughable thought were she asked about it in the past.
Nothing seemed laughable at the moment though, from her friends' arrested expressions to the unmoving form on her bed.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence.
"Narcissa brought him to me," Hermione started in a drained voice. "She doesn't want Malfoy to become a Death Eater, so she decided to hide him from his father,"
Ron finally gained the strength to speak. "She entrusted her only son to you?" he asked in disbelief. "What about the git? Does he want to become a Death Eater?"
Hermione glanced over at Malfoy's slumbering face, a knot forming on her throat as she tried to answer. "I… I don't know."
Harry's gaze was getting more and more intense. "Hermione, I know you mean well but—"
"I didn't have a choice, Harry!" her voice rose in agitation as she struggled to make them understand. "Narcissa cornered me in an alleyway, told me about her unfortunate circumstances, and left Malfoy to me before I could do anything else!"
"You could have left him to rot in that bloody alley!" Ron interjected furiously. "He deserves it—to be left in the middle of nowhere by his own mother—"
"Ron—"
"He would only be trouble, you know how that bastard's mind works, and if you endanger all our safety because of your insane—"
"Ron, shut it," Ginny cut in, earning a livid glare from her brother. "Let Hermione speak. She must have something to say, something that can support her decision—"
"But she hasn't been thinking clearly, just look—"
"Ron, keep quiet." Harry's cold voice immediately silenced the furious redhead. "Hermione… tell me what made you decide to bring him here," Hermione's heart tore a bit at the pleading note in Harry's voice. She knew how the situation was confusing him. "Make me understand,"
"I believe Narcissa's word." She finally said when she could no longer stand the silence. "Merlin knows why I do—but there was something in her voice—and her eyes—that made me sure she was telling the truth," she paused, gauging Harry's reaction, but he concealed his emotions well. "She actually wanted me to use Legilimency on her so I could see for myself whether she was lying or not, but I didn't need to…the mere fact that she was brave enough to try to let me inside her mind—it was enough proof for me,"
"Proof of what?" Ginny asked.
"That she would desperately do anything to protect her son from harm, including having to place her trust on someone she hardly knew, someone she considered well below her station…"
And so there went her three friends' doubts deflating like a popped balloon. Ron simply threw his hands up in the air in disgusted surrender and stalked out of the room; Ginny walked over to Hermione and touched her on the shoulder, recoiling when she realised that her friend was drenched to the bone.
"You better change out of those clothes," she told Hermione. "I'll… I'll watch over Malfoy while you do, and Harry can tell Remus and the others about… about our new visitor,"
Harry's eyes snapped to meet Ginny's in silent communication, then he walked out of the room without another word. Hermione shot the redhead a grateful smile, then proceeded to the bathroom to change her clothes.
She began to feel the stabbing coldness of her clothes then, and the uncontrollable shaking she was surprisingly able to suppress earlier. With numb fingers she shed off her ice-cold garments and put on a cotton shirt, a thick woollen jumper and jeans. She caught sight of her reflection on the mirror just as she was about to leave, and she couldn't help but cringe at her hideous condition. Her face had a pallid tint to it, and the dark circles under her eyes did not improve her looks one bit. Her lips were bluish from overexposure to the cold, and her hair hung limply against her shoulders in wild disarray.
Remus, Tonks, and Molly were already in her bedroom when she returned. Ginny was sitting in a corner, here eyes trained disdainfully on Malfoy's sleeping form.
"Oh my goodness," Molly Weasley broke the silence, her eyes round with genuine surprise. Tonks blinked, hovering a few inches above Malfoy's face, brows raised in perplexity. "Is this… my cousin?" she asked, and Remus nodded his bitter confirmation.
"Hermione," Remus started, his eyes focused on Hermione. "Harry just told me what happened. I just want you to answer a few questions—"
"Oh come on, Remus, the girl looks dead on her feet—"
"No, it's alright," Hermione interjected. "Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Weasley. I will answer Professor Lupin's questions first,"
"Well, sit down, dear. You look like you're about to faint," Molly gestured to the seat next to Ginny, and she complied immediately.
"I need to know the exact words exchanged by you and Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione," Remus announced seriously as he paced mindlessly around the room. "We can never be too careful. As Harry suggested, it could be a trap—"
"The poor boy is soaked!" Tonks' sudden exclamation halted Remus' speech. "Can't we get him some dry clothes before you go on with your inquisitions?"
Remus flitted an irritated look at her direction, but he nodded. "Will you get us some dry clothes for him?" he asked Ginny. "I think he's about Ron's size…" Tonks piped up.
"Oh, as if Ron would let that git borrow anything from him!" Ginny burst out in exasperation. "I'll ask Harry instead," and with a swish of her long red mane, she was gone.
Hermione then told them about her entire conversation with Narcissa, a precise version slipping out of her trembling lips. Remus listened intently, while Molly and Tonks attempted to rid Malfoy of his sodden clothing.
When she was finished, Remus released a tired sigh as he rubbed his temple. "It seems that this is no ploy after all," he muttered. "Narcissa wants her son protected from Voldemort, whether the young Malfoy likes it or not. He will have to stay with us… or in another safe house…"
Ginny's sharp intake of breath whipped Hermione's eyes towards the doorway, where she stood, alongside Harry. He had a small bundle of clothes in his arms which he clutched rather tightly. "Malfoy's staying here, then?" he repeated quietly.
Remus gave a nod, and the dark-haired boy crossed the bedroom in quick, purposeful strides, dumping the clothes at the foot of the bed, and exiting without another word. Ginny gaped at his retreating form, looking so tempted to follow him, but Molly requested assistance in clothing the unconscious Malfoy heir.
"He needs to adjust-" Ginny started defiantly. "Remember, this is Sirius' home, and it's quite difficult to digest that a slimeball like Malfoy will be inhabiting in-"
"I understand," Hermione replied warily. She understood so well she could feel the guilt stabbing at her, for causing unwanted trouble in Harry's newly acquired abode.
"Hermione, could you sort out the clothes Harry donated?" Tonks asked, finally managing to remove Malfoy's sodden robes. Hermione's eyes impersonally swept over Malfoy's slack body, inwardly noting how translucent his skin looked against her burgundy sheets. He had obviously lost weight, for the last time she saw him at Hogwarts, he had still been superbly fit from playing Quidditch.
It was pretty hard to believe how almost a year had passed since their seventh year.
"Shouldn't we just wake him?" Ginny asked no one in particular.
"No, I don't think anyone's up to dealing with him this late in the evening," Molly answered absent-mindedly. "Besides, the poor man is sleeping too soundly to be disturbed. I think Narcissa may have used a heavily dosed Sleeping Potion on her son,"
"I hope that's all she used," Tonks commented dryly as she glanced down at her cousin. "Are you alright there, Hermione?"
Hermione's eyes snapped up from the floor. "Yes. Yes, I am," she answered.
She started sorting the clothes like she was asked to, while Molly and Tonks wiped him dry. Ginny collected the drenched clothing and dumped them on Hermione's laundry basket.
"Shirt please," Tonks called out, and Hermione automatically held out the first shirt she could reach. She handed over a pair of trousers next, unable to look at her ex-nemesis' unclothed form without discomfort. Or awkwardness.
Suddenly the floor seemed to be slipping from under her, and before she completely lost her balance, Molly had rushed over to steady her teetering form. "I—I'm alright," she rushed out before anyone could say a word. "I just… I haven't eaten a thing since last night—"
"Well why didn't you say so?" Molly barked. "Go on, have Ginny accompany you to the kitchen—" she practically shoved Hermione out the door. "We'll take care of Mister Malfoy until you come back,"
And so Hermione had no choice but to trudge downstairs, Ginny walking quietly by her side. She could sense that the younger witch was bursting with so many questions, but was unexpectedly holding back.
"You might as well ask me whatever it is you are thinking, Ginny," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I'll try my best to answer, I promise,"
"Later," was all Ginny said. "You need to eat first, I think."
Hermione ate her late supper ravenously, quite uncaring that Ginny was watching her eat and she seemed a bit lacking in the table manners department for the exception of that evening. The younger witch pounced with her questions right after Hermione swallowed the last gulp of water from her glass, which didn't catch her unaware.
She knew how curious Ginny can be.
"What are you planning to do with Malfoy?" she asked bluntly. "You know… once he wakes up and realises that he is staying under the same roof with us?"
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she considered Ginny's question. A million answers crossed her mind all at once, but she honestly didn't know which one to do or divulge. "It would depend on the situation," she answered slowly. "If he would be difficult to handle, we'll have to restrain him, and explain the situation—" she paused when she heard Ginny snort derisively.
"You know he would be anything but easy to handle, Hermione," Ginny scoffed. "What if he refuses to stay here and live under the Order's protection? What will you do then?"
"I think it would be something for the whole Order to decide upon, don't you think?" Hermione countered coolly, but she felt anything but calm. "I only did the right thing—"
"I know," Ginny interrupted earnestly. "I wasn't trying to insult you, for crying out loud. I'm just asking you about the possible consequences—"
"Fine!" Hermione was horrified to find herself bursting into tears. "I won't apologise for bringing him here though, and I will stand by the decision I made—I will handle Malfoy on my own, and I won't ask for your help!" she hastily swiped a tear that had rolled down her cheek and looked away from Ginny.
"Listen, Hermione…" Ginny began, reaching over the dining table to squeeze Hermione's quivering hand. "I never said you had to apologise for bringing Malfoy here, and I most definitely made no mention of refusing to help you in handling him. Whether you like it or not, we will help you. We're all in this together, you know. We will help you battle this dragon, I promise,"
Hermione gazed at her closest female friend with watery eyes. "Thank you, Ginny. I was just… I guess I overreacted. I'm sorry,"
"Completely understandable," Ginny responded emphatically. "I think you need a good night's sleep so you can resume to your calm, rational self,"
"I will," she lied. She knew she wouldn't be getting a decent slumber tonight, because she planned on waiting for Malfoy to regain consciousness herself.
However, Malfoy wasn't in their room when they returned. Tonks left a brief note saying she transferred her 'cousin' to a spare bedroom at the end of the hallway and had assigned Remus to watch over him.
Hermione won't allow this, of course. Malfoy was her responsibility, after all. She brought him here, and it was her duty to keep an eye on him and make sure that he won't do anything to harm the other members of the Order.
"I'll watch over him," she said, earning a rather irritated glance from the ex-Hogwarts professor, who was lounging at the only available couch in the room, reading a book to pass the time.
Her eyes riveted towards the young Malfoy heir, who still looked dead to the world. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he could easily pass as a corpse.
"Go to bed, Hermione," Remus answered. "If it's worrying you too much, I will wake you once he regains consciousness,"
"B—but you don't have to do this—"
"Don't argue. Now, off to bed," he pointed at the door, and Hermione meekly complied, knowing she could not win over this argument with her old professor.
"Alright… good night, Professor," she said softly as she turned to leave. She was unable to stop herself from asking one last question though. "Sir… did I do the right thing?" she asked. The question had been nagging her mind since she returned to Grimmauld Place, and she needed just one affirmation to rid her of the guilt wracking her system.
Remus closed his book and set it down on the empty space beside him, a sombre look on his ragged face. "I think you did," he answered thoughtfully. "You always do the right thing, Hermione, and that makes us proud,"
Hermione's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Sir," she whispered. "I needed to hear that."
Narcissa hastily shrugged off her wet robes and dumped them in the laundry basket for a house-elf to pick up, trying very hard to calm her frazzled nerves.
She locked the door of the master's suite and dropped ungracefully on the bed, crying in anguish for her son, whom she had left in the hands of the enemy. No, enemy was not the right term, for she never considered the Order as such. They were just… the other side. The side that her son believed to be wrong and unworthy.
Her son… she hoped Draco would fare well, and that he would change his mind about the people he considered his foes. The memory charm she had used on him was not a strong one, which would only last for a couple of months at the most. She prayed that by then that the war would be over.
And that her husband would be a cold body buried six feet under the ground.
Yes, such a cruel thought of a wife towards her husband. But Lucius Malfoy was no longer a loving husband. He was now merely an evil stranger with the same physical features as the man she fell in love with. She honestly wished he would just get killed by one of the people from the Order so she and her son could finally live in peace.
Those were her last thoughts before she fell into troubled slumber.
Hermione woke up hours later feeling a lot more refreshed than she did before she went to sleep. However, when reality caught up with her brain, she shot up from her bed so quickly, blood rushed angrily in her head, dizzying her for a moment.
She rose from the bed when the vertigo subsided; the urge to go to Malfoy's room and see if he had already regained consciousness overwhelmed her mind. She closed the door quietly behind her, not wanting to wake Ginny. Waking her would mean having to join Hermione in visiting the Malfoy heir.
She did not want to ruin her friend's morning like that. Hermione knew she was the only one up to battling dragons so early in the morning. To her disappointment however, he was still sleeping; contrary to Remus, who obviously stayed up the whole night awake.
"I'll take over now," she told Remus, who nodded tiredly and mumbled a thanks before ambling out of the room. She headed straight for Malfoy's bed when the old Hogwarts professor left, her eyes skimming over his unguarded features for any changes from last night.
Nothing. Still the same impossibly long lashes fanned across his high cheekbones, same slightly pursed mouth, same light breathing pattern. Strangely, he still looked dangerous, even in slumber.
Hermione gave him a light nudge on the shoulder, but he remained still and unmoving.
She was getting impatient.
"Finite," she murmured, aiming her wand on his slumbering form. To her disappointment, nothing happened. He slept on like the dead.
"Wake up," she hissed, giving him a hard prod on the arm. Still nothing. "God, Malfoy, this isn't going to be like Sleeping Beauty. I would rather eat my own vomit than kiss you—"
The rest of her sentence died in her throat when his eyes finally slit open, his grey irises extraordinarily alert-looking and… defensive?
Hermione wasn't able to find out, for the next thing she knew, he had pulled her down on the bed with him and was trapped under his body before she could force out a shout of help. Not that she would ask for assistance, because she could most certainly handle Malfoy on her own. She could.
The livid fire in his eyes flickered her resolve a bit, though. He looked like a feral beast that was ready to pounce on its prey; his white-blond hair stood out in different directions, and his nostrils flared as he stared menacingly down at her. He was breathing harshly too, his hot exhales caressing Hermione's startled face.
"Where am I?" he asked quietly, his voice coming out rusty from obvious lack of use. "Tell me, or I will have to force you," Hermione detected the heavy threat in his tone, and for a second she wondered what exactly he would do to gain her compliance.
"I will tell you, if you get off me first," she bit out, but he didn't budge.
"Tell me," he edged his face nearer to hers until their foreheads were touching. Hermione tried to push him off her, but he had pinned her wrists on her sides with his hands. "Stop fighting, you bitch. I won't hurt you if you tell me—"
Hermione attempted to kick him, but he had trapped her legs between his own. "Stop moving, I said—" she ignored him and tried to wiggle away from him again. He gave a low curse, trying to adjust against her struggling form. To her horrification, she felt his hard arousal brush against her abdomen, and she froze.
"Finally, you get some sense knocked up into you," Malfoy breathed, his eyes holding hers. "Now tell me where I am, and who the bloody hell you are."
A/n: ...so how was it? I hope it wasn't as OoC as the old version. Tell me what you think guys.