Thank you all so, so, so much for the great response to chapter 1! Enjoy chapter 2! Oh, also, I wrote a Hunger Games story yesterday. Anyone interested in reading it?

Chapter 2
Draco Malfoy.

Age 24.

Born June 5, 1980.

Husband.

Ministry of Magic employee.

The year is 2004.

That was all he knew about the life that he lived after the war ended and he awoke in St. Mungo's hospital one week earlier. He still had yet to meet his wife. His parents hadn't visited. Blaise had stopped by briefly the day before, and left as quickly as he could. His days were filled with healers and mediwitches and psychologists. The words "I don't know" left his mouth more than any others.

"Why can't I see her?" he demanded.

Jensen merely shook her head. "It's not safe yet."

"Safe for who?" he wondered. "You won't even tell me who she is! I don't know who my own wife is."

The blonde sighed. "We're not entirely convinced that you believe us when you tell you it isn't 1998," she replied. "No matter how many times Healer Collins has you write out your facts, I'm not sure it isn't all an act to get out of here sooner."

She was right, and he knew that. But he wanted to leave. He wanted to go back to the safety and comfort of his home now that Voldemort no longer resided there. There was studying to be done for his NEWTS if the educational board allowed him to sit for them. After all, the war had cut short his seventh year. He had more important things to do than allow some crackpot healer to convince him that he was six years behind the rest of the world.

"Have you stopped to consider that this place isn't conducive to the recovery of my memories?" he inquired. "Perhaps someplace more familiar, or people I knew before I awoke would be more helpful than a sterile room with bad lighting and people I don't know."

Jensen sighed and leaned against the doorway. "Maybe you're right," she agreed. "But what happens when home isn't how you remember it?"

Draco shrugged indifferently because he knew she was wrong. Malfoy Manor was exactly as he left it. The place hadn't been changed in centuries except for minor repairs and updates. "Then it'll be different," he replied.

"And the people with whom you were once friends? What if they aren't your friends anymore?" she asked.

"Good riddance," he replied. "Most of them were lackeys and hangers on anyhow. I'd rather be rid of them."

Jensen grinned. "And what if the people who you once hated were now your friends?" she wondered.

Confusion replaced defiance. Could she possibly be talking about Harry Potter and his little band of followers? Draco shook his head. There was no chance he had befriended any of them. Potter had always been a nuisance, running free with no thought of the consequences because of his relationship with Headmaster Dumbledore. Too much bad blood existed between the Malfoys and Weasleys, and neither boy seemed interested in repairing relations. And then there was Hermione Granger. She was a swotty little know-it-all who induced migraines whenever she opened her mouth.

Finally he shook his head. "Not possible," he muttered.

"Okay, then," Jensen replied, but her grin unnerved him.

Clearly there was something she wasn't sharing with him. He wanted to push, wanted to know what she had meant. But before he could ask, she was excusing herself from his room. Struggling to his feet, Draco breathed heavily as he made his way to the door. He could hear voices speaking in the hallway, and recognized them as Jensen and the mystery woman from the day he had awoken.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," Jensen said sincerely. "I'm just...not sure that coming here everyday is doing you any good."

"Has he made any progress at all?"

Where had he heard that voice before?

"Not much," the healer replied. "He's still stuck in the past. If there's anything you can tell us about the spell that hit him, it would be a great help."

There was silence as Draco pressed his ear closer to the door. This woman, this Mrs. Malfoy who was not his mother, could possibly hold all the answers. "Draco didn't talk much about his work," he heard her say.

"He was an Auror?" Jensen asked. That piqued Draco's attention.

"No, he worked in potions," the woman said.

"Potions?" Draco mumbled to himself. "Great, I grow up to be Snape."

"Perhaps one backfired?" Jensen suggested. There was no verbal response. "Well, I guess if you're up to it, perhaps today the two of you could see each other. The other healers and I don't seem to be getting through to him. But you're his wife, so maybe there's something you can do to help."

Draco's heart raced. He was finally going to meet this woman they all believed to be his wife. He backed away from the door and climbed back into bed. Any second now, Jensen would open the door and lead his wife into his hospital room. With the sheet and blanket pulled up to his waist, he waited with gray eyes trained on the door.

But it didn't open.

Why didn't it open?

He considered getting out of bed again to eavesdrop. One foot had slipped from beneath the blankets and was nearly on the floor when he heard two sets of footsteps near. He hurriedly arranged himself and turned to stare out the window as the door opened.

"Mr. Malfoy, you have a visitor," Healer Jensen announced. Over the pounding of his heart, he heard the door click shut. Only one person moved closer, but he still didn't have the nerve to turn and face his guest. A hand touched his shoulder, the coldness of it seeping through the thin material of his hospital gown. "Mr. Malfoy?"

Turn around, he ordered himself. Just turn your head and look at her.

He took a deep breath, in and out several times before his head slowly moved to face the other side of the room. His eyes seemed glued to the floor as he prepared himself for the sight of his...wife. His eyes travelled from her shoes to her legs to her slightly swollen abdomen. She was pregnant, he realized. When he heard her stifled sob, his eyes immediately snapped to her face.

Tired brown eyes caught his as she attempted to smile. Pressed to the door stood Hermione Granger, timid and unsure as she stared back at him.