Chapter 5

Harry stood alone on the Malfoys' front porch, too nervous to knock. That Hermione had denied knowing him was of great concern, more so than her marriage to Malfoy after the pair disappeared five years earlier. Her behavior only served as evidence that she was under a curse, one placed upon her by Malfoy.

When the door opened, he attempted to smile at the frowning couple. "How the hell did she do that?" he heard Malfoy mutter.

Hermione elbowed her husband's ribs. "Come in, Harry," she said cordially. She led him into the living room, offering him a seat. "So, what is it you wanted to discuss?"

Nerves gone, he observed the couple. They held hands, sat close, and looked happy. It was a baffling situation to examine. "I want to know why you left," Harry stated. "You told no one you were leaving. We searched for days for the both of you."

Draco frowned, eyebrows pinching together. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "We just met you."

"Bullshit, Malfoy," Harry spat. "We've known each other since we were eleven. You made life miserable for the three of us. I don't know what you've done to Hermione, but believe me, there will be repercussions."

The Malfoys exchanged a confused glance. "I'd like you to leave," Hermione said sternly. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't like it. You won't come into my home and accuse my husband of things that never happened. Now, get out."

"Mione, please," he begged. "Please just see reason. What I'm telling you is true. I've never lied to you before, and I'm not lying now."

"What proof do you have?" Hermione demanded. "You say we've known each other since we were children, but I have no memory of ever meeting you before last week. That you have the nerve to show up here and make wild accusations is astounding."

Harry huffed. "They're not accusations," he insisted. "Malfoy hexed you in fourth year and made your teeth grow to your chin. How do you explain them being smaller? Or the scar on your chin from where they cut you?"

"My parents are dentists," she stated. "It's not a complicated procedure. And I fell off my bike when I was five and scraped my chin. Draco had nothing to do with it."

"What about your arm?" he asked. "He stood by while his deranged aunt tortured you for an hour and carved up your arm."

Hermione rolled up her sleeves to reveal nothing but smooth, pale skin. A freckle spotted her arms here and there, but there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found. "Any other stories you'd like to tell?" Draco inquired.

"Yeah, let's see your arm," Harry said, reaching for Draco's left arm. But once again he was disappointed. The Dark Mark was gone. With Voldemort went his brands, and Draco's had disappeared completely just hours after the battle ended. This tactic was getting him nowhere. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't...I don't know what's going on here, but I'll get to the bottom of it. I swear to you I will."

Draco stepped in front of his wife as Harry reached for her. "There's nothing nefarious going on here," he stated. "This is a family - a happy, loving family. I won't listen to this anymore. I've never hurt my wife. I've never stood idly by while someone else hurt her. Not that she needs my protection, but if someone ever tried to hurt her, I'd be the first one to come to her defense."

"That might be true now, but five years ago it wasn't," Harry retorted. He planned to continue, but heard little footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw their daughter looking expectantly at him. "I should go."

Clara followed him, and when he stepped onto the porch, she yelled, "And don't come back!" before slamming the door as hard as she could. Turning, she smiled triumphantly at her parents. "Did you see me?" she asked.

"Good job, baby," Hermione replied. "Why don't you go play?" Reluctantly, Clara returned to her room.

"What the hell was that all about?" Draco wondered when they were once again alone. There were no answers she could offer. "He...he said I...but I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't. You're the only person in the world I ever cared about until the kids. Why would he say those things?"

Hermione held her husband close, just as confused as he was. She remembered her life clearly. She remembered her childhood, the school where she met Draco in Scotland, the day they met, their first kiss. She remembered the lake, not long after graduation, when he proposed and asked her to run away with him. They were gone as the sun arose, and a new life began.

"I don't care what he says," she told him. "All that matters to me is you and Clara and Liam. Whatever tall tales Harry Potter concocts mean nothing to me. I don't know why he would think such horrible things about you, but you know that I would never believe them."

Draco kissed the top of her head, but uttered no reply. There had been times he had teased her as children, but it had always been in good fun. His remarks were never malicious or intended to hurt her feelings, and Hermione had a penchant for dishing as well as she got. Oftentimes he was more upset by her words than she was by his. They never parted angrily though; both quick to apologize for their misdeeds.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled away and stood. "I think I'll go check on the kids," he mumbled.

With Draco out of sight, Hermione pulled back the corner of the throw rug and removed a slat from the floor. Hidden beneath the loose floorboard were the possessions she had on her when they arrived in America. A small beaded bag held more than it should, and amongst the items inside were two wooden sticks. She had no idea why she had kept them, but felt they needed to be hidden. Even now, she couldn't explain the need to see them. Shaking her head, she put the bag and sticks back and covered them with the board and rug.

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In a small inn on the other side of town, Harry sat down on his bed and sighed frustratedly. Ron waited patiently for news of his visit with the Malfoys. Minutes passed before Harry collected himself enough to speak. "What do you know about memory charms?" he wondered.

Red brows rose. "Not much," he confessed. "That was always Hermione's area of expertise. I do know that they're tricky to reverse. Even she was worried about how she would correct her parents' memories when the war was over. Is...is that what you think happened to them?"

Harry nodded. "I think Malfoy erased her memories, then his," he said. "It's gotta be some sick game for him."

"He wouldn't do that to himself," Ron replied. "He's hated her for a long time. He wouldn't erase their memories, marry her, and start a family. There's no way he would humiliate himself by being with a muggleborn. I think we need to look for a third person, someone else who would want their memories gone."

Lying back on his bed, the Boy Who Lived stared at the ceiling. He didn't believe that there was third party involved. What happened the night the pair disappeared was strictly between the two of them. Harry, though, wouldn't rest until he learned what those events were.