"Draco, I got your Owl." Severus Snape said while he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He was sitting behind his desk in his home office with parchment strewn out before him. "What is it that I can help you with?"
"Hello, Severus." Draco said while taking a seat across from his Godfather. "I hope you are well."
"Though pleasantries are considered acceptable behavior, it would be best if he we skipped all that. I have papers to correct, and may I say that I do believe children are becoming more inadequate with each generation?"
Draco chuckled lightly but then turned serious. "I need information on a potion that can completely erase a single person from one's memory."
A pregnant pause passed between the two wizards, and the elder rewarded the younger wizard with an arched brow and said, "I believe you are talking about Memoria Obscurare. That potion," Severus paused, "is illegal. It's nearly impossible to buy the ingredients."
"What are the ingredients? And is there a counter potion? A concoction that can reverse the effects? And if so, what are the ingredients for that?" Draco asked.
Severus Snape had an excellent poker face, nearly flawless, Draco mused, but the pinky on his left hand twitched. That twitch was all Draco needed to know that his Godfather and former Potions Master was intrigued.
"I am not your legal advisor, Draco, but I cannot suggest that you go meandering about trying to brew this potion. You do not need a stint in Azkaban."
"Even if I were to brew the potion, I would not be so sloppy in my actions to get caught, Severus. Now please tell me all you know about Memoria Obscurare. If you don't…well…you already gave me the name, and that's all I need really. I'm sure that I can find what I'm looking for in my library. I would just really appreciate the assistance from a professional like yourself."
Severus stared at him long and penetratingly and before Draco could even catch onto what the man was doing, it was too late.
"I hate it when you do that," Draco said quietly.
"I do not do it to hurt you. I do it to protect you. You are troubling when you get an idea int your head," said Snape.
Draco stayed silent, his gaze on his lap like chastised child.
"So…" Severus spoke slowly. "The Miss-Know-It-All cannot place you in her memory, and you're peeved."
"She needs her memories restored. If you can't help me with Memoria Obscurare, will you tell me if there is a counteragent?"
"Why?" Severus asked, sparkling hints of amusement in his eyes.
"Because!" the younger wizard balked. "She needs to remember."
"And why does she need to remember, Draco?"
Draco blinked in befuddlement and contorted his features in dubiety. "Memory loss is a terrible ordeal. I'm curing her of this mishap. Something or someone did this to her. I'm helping her."
"Draco," Severus began and straightened in his seat, his hands clasping together like he was getting ready to lecture a pubescent boy on the birds and the bees. "Your limited memories of Miss Granger in the last two months lead me to believe that she is fine. You make it sound like she is suffering an illness, but yet the girl smiles and goes about her daily life. Are you sure she is in need of a memory restoration, or are you just irked that she has no recollection of you whatsoever, and you find that a blow to your ego?"
"Severus-" Draco tried to interject, but the older man was quicker.
"I understand that I gave you too much information. It was my mistake to give you the name of the potion in the first place. To amend my misgiving, I will say that you need to refrain yourself from getting in contact with Miss Granger at all. Leave her alone, Draco. Sever communication with her entirely. She wasn't good for you before, and it would be worse now by tenfold. Let her go on with life, and you will go on with yours. For once in your existence, Draco, think of someone besides yourself. You have a son who needs all of your attention. At his age, he is most impressionable. I assume he is having a difficult time with his mother's absence. You will regret not spending more time with him when you had the chance, especially when he needed you the most."
With his expression akin to something close to a slapped fish, Draco felt like an utter prat. For weeks he poured his energy into discovering Hermione's root of memory loss when he could have been targeting that time on his son. Once upon a time, he loved the witch, but his son crushed everyone in comparison. Astoria may have come in the first five of her own list, but Scorpius came in the first ten on Draco's. Yet, his pride stung, but he needed a reminder on what was most important.
"You look smashing, Scorpius," Draco complimented his son who was dressed in the sleek new dress robes he got for Christmas. The boy was standing in front of his bedroom mirror straightening his bowtie, and Draco watched from the doorframe.
"Can I stay up until midnight, Father?" Scorpius asked and turned around to face him with childish hope on his baby face.
"If you can," Draco said and extended his hand at his son who walked over and took it with his own. "Are you ready?"
"I suppose I can't look any better, "the boy said in a self-aggrandizing way with his nose in the air. Draco chuckled and leaned down to kiss the boy's nose who whined out, "Daddy!" and wiped his nose with his free hand but smiled impishly anyway.
The Reception Hall was already full of guests when Draco and his son arrived. His son abandoned him at the top of the stairs, most likely rushing to gather a bunch of children and cause mayhem. Sure enough, his progeny halted to a stop by the three oldest Weasley boys which Ronald and Pansy gifted into the world. Mischief was etched upon all of their faces, and Joseph, the oldest, began to bounce on his toes with bared teeth.
When Draco reached the main floor, he spotted his mother chatting with Blaise's mother. He made his way across the room, shaking hands and making quick and simple small talk with his guests before wrapping his arm around his mother's waist and pecking her on the cheek.
"You look lovely, Mum," he complimented. His mother beamed at him and darted her eyes around.
"Where's my precious grandson? I want to show him off to all my friends in his new dress robes."
"I do believe he and his friends are plotting the incineration of your father-in-law's portrait."
"Oh, dear." Narcissa brought a dainty hand to her mouth, but Draco could see the smile behind her fingers. "I did warn Abraxas about Scorpius' destructive behavior and to keep his opinions to himself."
"If I feel like it, I may just intervene, but I might forget." Draco kissed his mother's cheek once more before turning his attention to Blaise's mother. "Mrs. Zabini, how are you? We are so pleased you could make it tonight."
The voluptuous, mocha-skinned, Italian witch licked her lips and unabashedly travelled her predatory eyes upon his person. "You look handsome, Draco."
"Thank you."
"You are so tall and practically edible," she said while licking her lips.
"You look…lovely, as well," he said hesitantly and prayed to be saved from the succubus that was Blaise's mum.
"Thank you," she cooed, puckering her shiny lips and leaning forward to smooch him wetly and audibly on the cheek. With all his might, Draco kept from shuddering.
"Mother, Mrs. Flint wants to chat with you." said Blaise from behind Draco. The blonde shot him a grateful look as the woman huffed and marched across the Reception Hall to talk with her friend.
"Thank you so much." Draco clapped his friend on the shoulder. "How've you been, mate. Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy with court dates. I want more days with the kids, and Daphne is being…well…Daphne. I mean, I am aware that carried Jacob and Tamara for nine months each, but it takes two to make a baby. I was the one that put them in her. They are mine, too. I bloody well deserve to have them more than just one weekend a month."
"At least she's showing interest in her children," Draco offered with a disgusted snort and snagged a glass of champagne from one of the servants. He sipped and continued. "I haven't heard from Astoria in over a month. I Owl-ed her telling about how I wanted us to seek attorneys and such, but she has yet to respond. Great Salazar, if she wants a divorce, I'll give her one. If she wants a new life away from me and her son, I'll give her that, too. I just need some communication. These separations go smoother if both parties are involved."
Blaise snagged his own drink and raised the glass towards Draco. "To us: the old wankers that can't seem to make their women content. May we never marry again and make the same mistake twice."
"Here, here." Draco raised his own glass and the two clinked together before both men gulped the fizzy fluid down.
A sigh escaped Blaise before he began chatting again. "All though it was nice to comfort each other about the Greengrass sisters, I came to tell you something of upmost importance."
"Hmm," Draco hummed and nodded. "Yes?"
"It's about…Granger."
That tightening sensation that Draco finally got rid of returned in full force. The sickening rope coiled around his heart and began to suffocate it while looping around his stomach for leverage.
"I don't care to hear about Granger," Draco tried to sound nonchalant. "I'm past that."
His friend's eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Really?"
"Yes."
"So it doesn't bother you in the slightest that she's here tonight at your party?"
Draco coughed and whipped his head around to spot that blonde hair and glasses.
"What's she doing here? I didn't invite her."
"No, but you invited her date," Blaise informed in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Her date? Who's her date?" Draco asked.
"Pucey," chuckled Blaise.
Draco scanned the crowd for Adrian and Hermione. "I don't see them."
"Knowing Adrian, he's probably found them a nice and vacant bedroom upstairs to spend the rest of their evening."
"And knowing Granger, she probably initiated the whole thing," Draco scoffed in disgust and then cursed when Blaise's eyes widened.
"What did you say?" Blaise asked, and Draco called himself an idiot.
"Nothing. Forget it," Draco attempted to brush off.
"You said Granger probably initiated the whole thing. Why would you say that?"
"Why do you care?" Draco asked.
"I didn't say I cared, I asked why would you say that. You would only say that if you knew something about her."
"I do know something about her, Blaise," Draco defended. "I dated her, you know."
"Years ago," Blaise pointed out, and the Draco saw revelation dawn upon the man's face. "You slept with her."
"Years ago," retorted Draco with a shrug and a smirk. "So which room am I going to have to set fire to in the morning?"
"I can't believe you. I can't believe you slept with her. I mean, I believed you might would go and bother her, but I'm amazed you had the idiocy to bed her when she doesn't even know you."
Draco's jaw ticked. "No. I'm amazed that she had the idiocy to bed me when we don't even know each other. She propositioned me, Blaise. We weren't even on a date. Hell, we hadn't even talked five minutes."
"You could've turned her down like a gentleman."
"Would you have turned her down?"
Blaiser flinched but quickly smoothed his demeanor into cold indifference. If Draco did not believe his own eyes, he'd think the expression never happened. But he knew what he saw, and Draco stumbled backwards in disgust.
"You slept with her," Draco coughed out.
Blaise cast his eyes about the crowded room, shame filling his dark eyes. "Yes. About a year ago. Not long after Daphne and I separated. The other time was six months ago."
"Twice?" Draco hissed and clenched his fingers into fists. He cast his eyes about to ensure he wasn't making a scene before stepping into his traitorous friend's personal space. "You slept with her twice. That means you've had contact with her for a while. You knew she didn't remember? How long have you known? Since your separation? That's two years you've known, Zabini. Or has it been longer? Hmm? Tell me!"
Calmly, Blaise raised a hand to his friend's shoulder and squeezed. "I know what I did was awful, and I cannot excuse my actions. We made a deal we would never go after each other's exes, and I broke it. I'm sorry."
Draco shrugged his friend's hand off. "I hardly care about the deal. Shag her again for all I care. She's a slag. What I care about is the timeframe? How long have you known about Granger?"
"Don't talk about her like that. You don't know her anymore," Blaise growed.
"My problem is you do and didn't bother to tell me. And you, Pansy, and everyone else can go off and spout bull shite like how this doesn't concern me, and it's none of my business. Screw all of you, including Granger. Who the blood hell cares if I don't deserve to know what happened? This is about me, Blaise, despite what anyone else tries to convince me of. I am entitled to know. Stew on that for a bit. I need some air."
Draco pushed his way through the crowd towards the balcony where he let the cold winter air calm his heated face. The other guests on the balcony noticed his rigid form and angry set jaw, staying clear of their host's son.
He was unsure of how long he stayed out there, but his face was numb from the cold. He wished he could transport that sensation to his chest.
People came and went from the balcony and back to the Reception Hall. Eventually Draco was alone, staring off into the snow covered gardens. Relaxed when he was alone, he sagged his shoulders and braced his hands against the icy railing and breathed in the clean and crisp chill of winter Britain.
"Mr. Malfoy," a voice came from behind and Draco stiffened and bit his lip to keep from shouting out obscenities. With all his might, he turned to face Hermione Granger and when he had, he contemplated throwing himself off the balcony. She wore a tight black dress that cut low at the top and fell inches above her knees. The material was sequenced and sparkled from the lights of the party behind her. Three inch black high-heels adorned her feet, adding allure to her already beautiful, long legs. Her hair was pinned at the base of her skull with what looked like an exotic flower. Draco noted that she did not douse her hair in Straightening Potion. Her hair may have been up, but he saw curls. There were no glasses upon her face, but she wore more makeup than Draco had ever seen her with. Her brown eyes were lined with black, and her eye lids were a smoky blend of grey and dark green. Her full lips were simply glossed a pale pink like warm cotton candy, and he wanted to know if they tasted like such.
Draco mentally slapped himself in the face and remembered from the previous encounter that her lips did not taste like cotton candy but strawberries and heavily creamed coffee hinted with cigarette ash.
"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione repeated, tearing Draco out of his stupor. She was standing between the balcony entrance and him. She was folding her bare arms to protect herself from the chill. Draco shot her an incredulous look.
"Hermione, you need to get back inside. You'll catch your death."
She shook her head and stepped forward. "No, I have to talk to you. It's important." she said and shivered. Draco growled and stalked towards her, gripped right below her bare shoulders. Her skin was still a bit warm, and he was close enough to see that her eyes were bloodshot and teary.