Chapter 9

Though she knew no spells, it did not deter Hermione from testing out her wand. Within an hour, she managed to move a book from one side of the room to the other. The new skill delighted her, but she was unable to revel for too long. When the front door opened, she stashed the wand between the couch cushions and rose to greet her husband.

"It's quiet," he noticed as he kissed her. "Did the kids run away?"

Hermione chuckled against his lips. "I sold Clara to the circus," she replied. "Liam's not old enough, so we're stuck with him for the time being. He's napping."

Draco stepped around her and entered their bedroom to check on the sleeping infant. The baby boy breathed softly and punched the air with a tiny fist as Draco rubbed his stomach. "Gonna keep us up tonight, buddy?" he asked softly. Hermione stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He turned to face her. "You look tired too. Go take a nap. I'll buy Clara back from that circus you sold her to, and make sure she has dinner."

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you," she replied, biting her lower lip.

"About why the living room smells like ginger?" he inquired, noting the confusion in her eyes. "Ron left his jacket on the coat rack."

Nodding, she pulled away and left the bedroom. Seated on the sofa, she fidgeted nervously as she told him about Ron's visit. "It's real, Draco," she concluded.

He shook his head in disbelief. His wife was not a witch, nor was his new friend a wizard. Magic was the stuff of fairy tales, not real life. "This is crazy," he declared. Hermione pulled the wand from between the cushions, pointed it at a book on the coffee table, and made it float in midair. Gray eyes widened. "How?"

"Magic," Hermione replied.

"There were two sticks. Does that mean I can do this too?" he wondered. Hermione shrugged. Ron had made no mention of Draco possessing magical abilities. Instead, she handed him his wand and told him to give it a wave. That wave knocked over a vase of flowers. "Do you think that's a yes?"

Hermione began to pick up the shattered ceramic pieces from the floor. "I think it might be," she replied. "Ron said he didn't know how I could forget that I was a witch, but he and Harry are looking into it. He said something about a memory charm, but that's not exactly something I can google. I think our only option is to wait."

"I hate waiting," he mumbled, sitting down beside her. "Do, uh, do you think this means the kids will be able to do magic too?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, it does explain things," she said. "Clara always knows when someone is coming, minutes before they actually show up. Or she'll get angry, and something breaks even though no one touches it."

There were more examples of unexplainable happenings in their house. In the past, they chalked it up to coincidence, but now magic seemed to be the only explanation. "What I can't figure out is why we would give it up," Draco remarked. "Although, I'm fine with not being to understand that book of yours."

A blush crept up Hermione's neck, and Draco grinned, knowing why she turned a lovely shade of pink. "I skimmed it today," she told him. "A few things made sense."

Draco laughed loudly, knowing his wife's unquenchable thirst for knowledge. "So, on my very long list of questions, here's one," he said. "Ron said the three of you were friends. Why would you pick a git like Potter to be your friend?"

She shrugged, standing up to dispose of the broken vase. "Who knows. He probably used me to do his homework," she replied. Glancing back, she saw that he followed her. "Quite like someone else I know."

"Once, Granger! I copied your homework once," he exclaimed. Taking a seat on the counter, he waited for her to toss the vase before positioning her between his legs. "Why do you look sad?"

The change had been sudden. One minute, they were joking and laughing, and the next she began to worry about her past, his past, and their future. "What if we were completely different people?" she wondered. "If their theory is true, and we were given new memories, that could mean that we're not us. What if we hated each other?"

"Not possible," he replied dismissively. "I can't hate you. Even if it's true that I didn't like you when we were kids, that doesn't change the fact that I love you now. Five years ago, I vowed to love you until death do us part, and I still mean it."

Hermione sighed as he held her close. "I wish those two had never come here," she mumbled. "What if they've ruined everything?"

"What if they've ruined nothing?" he countered. "Maybe all we're getting out of this is some cool superpowers. That could be all that was changed. Don't make yourself crazy over this." Nodding, she promised that she wouldn't. Moving her back, he dismounted the counter. "I'll call Ron, ask him to come over and explain all this to me."

Hermione agreed, and distracting herself with feeding and bathing Liam as they awaited Ron's second visit of the day. She made arrangements for Clara to spend the night with Mrs. Bradbury, allowing the adults to speak without fear of interruption. When Ron arrived after dinner, she shook with nerves, and left the conversation up to the men.

Draco took a deep breath as Ron waited patiently for him to ask his questions. So many came to mind that Draco didn't know where to begin. "Um, I guess the first question is how did you find us."

"An anonymous letter," Ron replied, fearful that he would damage the relationship between the adults and Mrs. Bradbury. "There've been reports of sightings for years, but nothing we ever believed. This one felt different, so we decided to look into it. We weren't expecting the two of you to be...well, the two of you as you are now."

Draco nodded. "Hermione mentioned something about a memory charm," he continued. "If that's what happened, is it reversible?"

Beside her husband, Hermione gasped. Ron eyed her curiously as he shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a spell I know," he admitted. "The healers at St. Mungo's could probably do it, if that's what you both really want."

Pursing her lips, Hermione rose silently and left the room. Draco excused himself and entered the master bedroom. "What's bothering you?" he asked. Hermione was seated on the bed, watching her son sleep. When she gave no reply, he sat in front of her and took her hand. "Love?"

Sighing, she refused to look his way. "Reversing the charm means losing everything," she muttered.

"No, it doesn't," he replied. "Not if we don't want it to. I don't care what my memories used to be. All that matters to me is the present and future."