Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Welcome to my new readers! (I can't believe I forgot to mark this as a Dramione fic!) Please review and let me know what you're thinking! Everyone else, I was going to reply to all of your reviews for 6 but I got home late from girls night (my first one in... forever) and I thought this would be better. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

DRACO
-Past-

He was a bloody coward.

Of that much he was sure.

He sat inside Madam Malkins, listening to his mother blither on about one thing or another, all because he had seen the bushy headed witch in the street. His mother, to her credit, had seen her too and had yet to call him out on just why he would sit around and wait for her to do whatever the hell it was women did when shopping for new robes.

Fortunately, it was the last stop of the day and as such, as long as they could get out of the store without being noticed, he would be in the clear.

"So is Joanna coming over again?" he jumped at his mother's voice, rounding on her slightly.

"Who?" He asked, his voice tight.

Narcissa laughed, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "Oh Draco-"

He racked his brain, trying to place the name with a face as his mother's nails dug in to his skin. It was only then that he saw her. She was standing, pale faced, at the counter, staring directly at him. The She-weasel behind her watching her friend earnestly as though the Malfoy's would try to imperius the woman right in front of her eyes.

"Why, mother, I didn't think you cared for any of my ladies. However, yes, I do believe she may be warming my bed again…"

His mother narrowed her eyes as the witch with the measuring tape snorted around some pins. "That is not what I meant Draco."

"I know what you meant mother, I'm merely stating that the witch was more gratifying company than any I've had the pleasure of enjoying recently." He scoffed and he saw it then, out of the corner of his eye. Granger shifting just enough to let him know his words had resounded with her. "Now, buy your robes and let's run along."

And before his mother could answer he had pulled his arm away from her grasp and walked outside, ignoring the delicate tinkle of the door as he went, shutting his eyes tightly as soon as he had stepped in to the brisk air.

"Draco." He stiffened at her voice, his jaw clenching before he turned his head infinitesimally to see her out of the corner of his eye.

"What Granger?" He snapped.

"You don't get to do this." She said, her own voice rising as she walked around him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"What? Buy robes with my mother?"

"No, be a decent human being one minute and then the next turn into a giant git."

"Beg pardon?" He sneered as straightened up to his full height.

"You heard me. You think acting like a twat will push people away. That you saying that word will push me away? I've been called a lot worse. You want to wallow in guilt for the rest of your life? Fine, but don't take it out on people who care about you."

He felt his heart stutter at her words, as she continued on, cursing him up and down. It only took a minute or two before his mind finally caught up and he turned on his heel and departed.

Of course she didn't give up. He realized she wouldn't and he continued on, listening as she spewed her muggle brain doctor shite about his ulterior motives before he finally ducked into the alley behind Madam Primpernelle's and turned to face her.

"You can't run away from everything Draco." She said as she came to stand in front of him.

"You think I'm running away because I'm guilty?" He asked his voice low and even and he watched in mild amusement as she nodded her head.

"Y-yes."

"Well, see, that's where you're wrong. Because I don't run from the people I care about. Ever."

And before he could think. Before he could talk himself out of it, he did what Slytherin's do best.

His lips melded to hers, and for a moment she was frozen and he wondered just how quickly it would take her to hex him from there to the other side of Diagon alley. But then she was moving, her body pushed flush against his and he took advantage of it, reaching up to wrap his fingers in her hair as he tasted every last bit of her mouth. Too soon she pulled away, her eyes wide and frantic, and he knew she had gotten lost, just like he had.

"I-I'm engaged." She said finally.

"I know." He smirked and his hand reached out, almost begging her to come back to him. To let him taste her again. She shook her head, and reached in to her bag before she was pushing a folder at him.

"I can't." She said firmly. "I'm sorry."

And then, she was gone.

Hermione
-Present-

Three weeks came and went. Ginny and Harry were gracious hosts but they had lives, children, and she knew that eventually she would have to move on. With or without her memories.

Ron visited every week. Sometimes more than once- though always separate from Harry- and the two fell in to a comfortable routine together. Playing games or the like. It was easy with him, she realized, to forget everything that was so wrong with her life.

Malfoy and the kids came over quite often, and though sometimes he would show up without them in tow, he was always welcomed like part of the family. The two of them, no matter how cordial, could always end up arguing. It was a wonder really, how they could have ever been married when in reality she wanted to punch him half the time.

Her time that wasn't spent trying to regain her memories was spent trying to figure out where they had gone in the first place. She was sure, as was Harry, that something out of the ordinary had happened. Something, they believed, magical in origin. They just couldn't quite put their finger on what.

"Oh. Here…" Harry said, sitting up in his chair as Hermione leaned in closer. The two were poring over the stacks of paper in front of them, looking for clues amidst others who had experienced the same kind of memory loss. The results were grim. "Ibin Codwaller… oh, nevermind. He never regained his memory…"

"Harry-" Hermione sighed hopelessly and he reached across the table to pull her hand in to his, lacing their fingers together.

"I promise 'Mione, we're going to figure this out."

"How?" She demanded, her voice rough. "The only known case of a memory charm being broken is torture and even then she was never the same…"

"You are not Bertha Jorkins, Hermione." He said firmly. "And there has to be another way."

Hermione scoffed. "Maybe we should just let Malfoy do it… I bet that would bring it back quickly."

"Bring what back quickly?" Hermione jumped as Malfoy appeared in the doorway and she felt her cheeks redden. "I came to warn you Harry. You forgot to put away your jumper and Ginny…"

Harry swore, standing up quickly as Hermione let out a chuckle. "I'll be right back. I hope."

She watched as he disappeared quickly from the room and she turned back to the books, picking up the mess the two had made at the table before her.

"So what were you saying I should do?" Malfoy asked quietly and she turned to smile at him sheepishly.

"Well, it's just that…every instance of someone falling victim to a memory charm has had it broken by… well… torture."

She saw his jaw clench as he looked at her, his posture rigid.

"Of course I didn't mean-" She stammered, realizing what her words had implied and the feeling of guilt filled her up and she quickly looked back to the papers in front of her, ignoring Malfoy's stare until she felt his hand on her chin, pulling her face to meet his.

"I would do anything to make you better, but I would never hurt you."

She wanted to argue. To throw back the insults from Hogwarts that he had so carelessly flung at her. She wanted to point out to him that he had hurt her, though not in the physical sense. However, the look in his eyes was too intense; too, real. Instead she nodded her head and finished putting the papers in their books.

It was then that another thought hit her.

"Malfoy…" she sighed. "What would you think of me spending time with the children?"

Draco
-Past-

He found Meeky that week.

Lying unresponsive with blood pooling around her and he sobbed for what felt like hours.

He was aware of his mother, her own cries filling his head but he didn't move, instead holding the elf's cold hand in his own until someone pulled him away.

He was alert then, turning on the hand that directed him away from the body to find Granger staring at him sadly, and though he wanted to fight, he realized he didn't have it in him. With one last glance at the elf who had helped raise him, he let her lead him in to the drawing room.

"Draco." Her voice was soft and steady and she held the tea in front of him, letting him take it in to his own hands as he watched her flit about the room, directing the aurors who had shown up to the grisly scene before she finally settled back down beside him on the drawing room sofa.

"I read the file." He finally said, his voice cracking despite his best efforts.

"So you know?"

"Nothing I didn't already know." He derided and she shook her head.

"Draco-"

"Dobby was our elf. Ninny and Meeky and the others started here. In the manor. If it's about Dobby..."

"Draco-" Her hands were on his then, pulling the shaking teacup out of his grasp and turning his face to hers. "It's not about Dobby…"

"I know." He said. He figured he had known all along, though the pieces had never really added up. Laid out in front of him however just made everything clear. Whoever was attacking the house elves was not doing so at random. They were attacking the house elves that had started-or ended- with the Malfoys.

"I'm sorry-" Granger said, her voice soft, reassuring and it was only then that he realized he was grasping her hand, squeezing almost too tightly. As though she could hold him together. What was more was that she was squeezing back.

Her last words flitted through him and he wondered, briefly, if she held The Weasel's hand like this before quickly pulling his hand from hers as though her touch would burn if he kept contact too long.

"I should-" He stammered before he stopped, breathing in deeply and cleared his throat. "I need to get mother. To let her know-"

He didn't even bother to finish his sentence as he took off in the direction he was sure his mother had disappeared to, hedging around the aurors who were still in the room, ignoring Potter's curious glance as he passed by.

His mother had never been one for crowds, or parties, a fact she never tried to hide. His father had been the one to crave the attention that came with inviting the clambering crowds of social climbers in to their home. Narcissa's dislike of people had only intensified since the time in which their home had been death eater headquarters.

"Mother?" He asked when he reached her room and he saw her sitting in the dark, the only light coming from the dying fire that she was situated in front of, her gaze distant.

It was something that he had grown used to over the past few years, his mother withdrawing in to herself, but he had seen her start to cope. To come out of her stupor more and more and he had hoped that the days of grieving were finally past for her. As he walked in to the room, however, he wasn't so sure.

"I never wanted this for you." She finally said, her voice rough and low and he could tell that she was fighting to keep her tears at bay, to keep her voice from breaking. To be strong.

"I know." He said simply, because while he could never say he had a picturesque childhood, he knew that much was true. His mind recalled the way she used to hold him against her when his father had punished him as a child, whispering soft words in to his hair in the cloak of darkness until he would fall asleep. He remembered the harsh words his father always had for her when he thought she was making him soft, weak, and he remembered – far too clearly for his own liking- the tear stained cheeks that never seemed to go away after he had accepted the dark mark on his arm.

"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy." She said, and this time, her voice did break and he was in front of her before he could stop himself, sliding down in front of her and resting his head on her knees.

"Mother-"

"You can still be happy Draco-" Her voice was soft and gentle and he could feel her hand running through his hair, the same way she had done when he was a child. "Don't give up yet."

And he knew, in that moment, that she was talking about more than the Malfoy name he had to carry, about more than the dark mark on his arm, and the burden of his father's decisions.

They sat like that, in the silent darkness, the fire slowly dying beside them until she finally spoke again.

"You know, I was engaged before your father."

"What?"

She laughed as his wide eyes met hers. "I was."

"But-Who? Why-"

She shook her head, her hand reaching down to grasp his chin gently. "I love your father Draco. I will always love him. He was not always the man that you know. He was charming, and lovely. He had so much potential. I had been engaged before; to a man I thought I loved. He was kind and gentle but we had no fire between us. We were complacent. Your father made me angry. So, so angry. Bella thought I might hex him a time or two." Her voice faltered on the mention of her sister. "I… I went to see Anna. It wasn't long after she had married that husband of hers and I just wanted to know…"

She trailed off then, her eyes staring at something unseen, and Draco was sure she was remembering that day. Of The clandestine visit to the sister that had been chosen a life much different than her own.

"She told me that I was stupid." Narcissa laughed lightly. "That if I had to ask then I already knew the answer. And it was such an Andromeda thing to say… I never saw her after that."

Draco exhaled heavily as his mother finally looked back down to meet his eyes, running her hand soothingly along his face and though she never said it, he was sure that he knew what she was thinking and he didn't need to tell her that he understood, because he was sure that she knew him well enough to know that he did. Her words weren't meant to soothe him, as mother's so often did, they were meant to appeal to the Black family in him. The passionate blood that ran through his veins. They were meant to fuel the fire in him. The need. The want.

And as Draco delved in to the information Granger had told him in the drawing room, he realized they had done exactly that.

A/N: Please excuse any typos.