A/N Hello readers! After an incredibly long hiatus, this story is finally getting updated! A thousand apologies, madames and monsieurs, for not putting up another chapter sooner, but I'd run out of inspiration for the story and just couldn't seem to be able to write for it. If you've hated me for updating my other fics but not this one, then I apologize. Have some Dramione cookies, on me.
I sincerely hope this chapter is worth the wait. Feel free to inform me of your displeasure if it is otherwise. And feel free to browse my other fics as well, while waiting for the next chapters! My pet favorites are Not Like This, its sequel Renegade (and my other ongoing fic), and A Few of My Favorite Things.
Anywhoozle. Shameless plugging is done. Chapter time!
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Draco's hand rested on the doorknob to Harry's office, but he couldn't bring himself to grasp and turn it, to open the door. He knew what awaited him on the other side –Harry, a Pensieve, and a vial full of his wife's memories, just waiting to be entered. But despite that knowledge, he couldn't find it in himself to enter the office. Do I really want her to get better? The question that had haunted him for days surfaced in his mind. Was he really ready for this?
Before he could decide, however, the door suddenly opened, and Harry stood before him, his green eyes alight with fear and determination. No words passed between them, just a single nod from Harry. Draco pursed his lips. No time for cowardice now. He stepped inside as Harry drew back and closed the door. It was now or never.
The Pensieve sat on Harry's table, throwing an odd, ethereal light around the room. It was made even more eerie by the fact that the office curtains were drawn, dimming the lights from the windows. Its contents glimmered, not quite liquid, not quite gas. The little vial stood next to it, so inconspicuous, and yet so significant. Draco picked it up. It felt fragile in his hands. Again, the urge to break it with his fingers overwhelmed him, and he set the vial down before he could act on it. The cacophony of worries reached its crescendo in his heart. What if the memories were damaged? What if they had been tampered with? What if they didn't show what they needed? And what if –what if they did?
"Draco?" It was the first word uttered by either of them since Draco had arrived. He looked up to find Harry watching him intently, his shoulders squared but his hands shaking. Draco only nodded and picked up the vial. Slowly, he uncorked it. The contents threw out the same ethereal light as the Pensieve in front of him. His hand moved forward, held the vial over the shimmering substance in the bowl. Hesitated. For a moment, he could not find the strength to tip the vial over, empty its contents. Do I really want her to get better? Am I ready for this? Was he?
Something warm rested on his hand and he looked up to see Harry's impassive face. The frightened hope in Harry's eyes was all Draco needed to remind him of what was at stake. He nodded, and together, the two boys emptied the contents of Hermione's mind into the Pensieve. Without any hesitation, Harry leaned forward and disappeared into the bowl's contents, and after a heartbeat, Draco followed.
xxxxx
They were inside her office. Draco recognized it immediately, and guessed Harry did too. She'd worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for a few years before transferring to International Magical Cooperation. A small box of S.P.E.W. badges lay on her desk. Harry picked one up and chuckled. Draco rolled his eyes, remembering her avid promotion of her silly schoolgirl project.
She was seated at her desk, shuffling through some papers. It was late at night, and she was obviously exhausted. She propped her head up for a bit, rubbed at her temples. The two boys sneaked a peek at her work. Goblin liaisons. No wonder she was tired.
Suddenly, a tapping noise came from her office window. All three of them looked up, startled. An owl flapped feebly outside. She opened the window warily, but took the poor creature in gently. It hopped onto her desk and held out its leg dutifully, hooting once. She untied the note on its leg, and the little bird took off at once. She closed her window carefully before reading it.
She unfolded it carefully, a frown creasing her brow, obviously wondering who would send her a note at this time. Upon reading the few words written, her face paled immediately. She stood up, stumbling back from her desk, her fingers struggling to take a proper hold of her wand. Draco and Harry started forward. She cast a hurried spell, which engulfed the little sheet of paper in flames, but not before the two had read what was written on it. There were only three words, written in jagged, hurried writing, but they shook both Draco and Harry to their cores-
Bellatrix is back.
The scene shifted, abruptly, for which Draco was relieved. Harry looked as utterly floored as he felt. All these years and neither of them had known- Bellatrix- had been alive? Was alive? But why? And more importantly, how?
A clatter brought their attention to the memory. They were in Draco's apartment, but it was well past midnight according to the clock on the kitchen wall. Hermione was awake, nursing a cup of tea. She'd half-dropped it onto the table, which had made the noise. Draco guessed his memory self was upstairs, in bed, asleep. Despite the late hour, Hermione looked jittery, high-strung, her eyes wide, her hands shaking.
"It can't mean anything," she whispered. "She can't be back."
Harry looked at Draco, who nodded. Hermione was talking about the note.
"She's dead!" Hermione was muttering to herself almost hysterically now. "She's dead, I killed her." She ran her hands through her hair, her breathing ragged. Her motions upset her cup of tea, which spilled all over the table with a small clatter.
"But oh god, the nightmares–" she cut off abruptly, clapping her hand to her mouth. Draco could have kicked himself. How had he not noticed this? True, he was a heavy sleeper, but still. She was his wife. But even as he thought it, Draco knew that could never have been true. Hermione was excellent at keeping things to herself if she didn't want them known.
"I can't tell him," she whispered, burying her face into her hands. "I just can't."
The memory swirled in front of them, changing.
She was writing in her diary on the dining table in the kitchen. It was late. The scratch of her quill was frantic, as if she were in a hurry to write it down. She was whispering something, and Draco and Harry moved in closer to hear.
"I keep dreaming she's still alive. I've dreamt it before, but that was soon after the war. I didn't think the dream would come back."
Her murmurs matched the sentences she wrote out. Draco wondered, briefly, if she always wrote in her diary like this –talking to herself the whole while. He forced himself to focus back on her entry.
"Could she really be- I mean- I killed her. I remember that. How could she be-?"
She made a noise of frustration and slammed the diary shut. Footsteps sounded from the other side of the wall and she quickly pocketed the diary, hiding it in her jacket. Memory Draco stepped into the kitchen, shirtless and yawning. "'Mione?" he called sleepily, too drowsy to sound out her whole name. "Why're you still up?"
"Nothing, Draco." She smiled tightly. "Just couldn't sleep."
"Come back to bed," he said, holding out his hand. "I get lonely without you."
She hesitated, briefly touched the diary in her pocket. Then she held out her other hand with a laugh. "All right then."
Again, the scene shifted.
"Harry?"
Both of them started at the sound of her voice. She couldn't see them, could she-? But then they realized where they were, and almost laughed. A memory Harry sat at his office desk, which was swamped with stacks of papers, with more scattered about the floor. She was peeking through the door, obviously not wanting to disturb.
"Mm?" was all Harry replied.
"It's me," she said softly.
"Hermione!" Harry finally looked up. "Merlin, I didn't realize. Sorry. I-"
"It's all right." A small tinkling laugh. Draco's heart clenched.
"How can I help you?"
"I just-" Hesitation.
"Yeah?"
"I just wanted to check up on the Death Eater investigations."
"Ah." Harry's face closed up. Both the real Harry and Draco knew why. In those early days of freedom and victory, the investigations had been tough. The Death Eaters who remained alive had gone into hiding –either physically, or behind wealth and prestige. Lucius Malfoy in particular had been hard to pin down, but his son's testimony –however much it had hurt- had been enough to put him away. Some they never found, while others (mostly the sons of established Death Eaters, like Blaise) had been granted amnesty and were allowed back into wizard society.
"I'm sorry. I know it's a hard topic, but –I mean, I'm still a little-"
"We're trying our best, Hermione." Memory Harry forced a smile. "Why do you ask?"
A split second's hesitation before answering. "I just wanted to check. I still feel a little scared every time I leave the apartment, knowing some of them are still out there."
Harry gave a short laugh. "Don't worry, Hermione. We'll get them soon."
"All right." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "And-"
"Yes?"
"The death list –it's final, right?"
"The death- Oh, for them? Yeah, why?"
"Nothing. Just reassuring myself. Take care, Harry."
She left the office abruptly, before memory Harry could reply. The outer office, with all the Aurors, was empty, the employees probably on lunch break or out working. Draco and the real Harry watched as she leaned against the door, panting. She put her hand into her pocket, withdrew it, opened her hand and stared at her palm. Gingerly, forgetting Hermione could neither see nor feel them, the two boys leaned over to see what she was holding. It was another note.
I'm coming for you.
xxxxx
Draco felt himself being lifted up as if by an invisible crane. Next thing he knew, he was stumbling back from Harry's desk, his head spinning slightly. Beside him, Harry looked similarly dazed. Draco clutched at his shirt collar, breathing heavily, feeling his heart beat rapidly from shock. What they had seen- how could- was it even- possible?
"Bellatrix?" Harry's incredulous voice broke the silence in the office. His expression mirrored Draco's own. Their eyes met. Draco was the first to look away. All the fears he'd had of his plan not working, they'd all crumbled now. They had found something, all right –something much, much more than either of them could have ever imagined.
The shimmering light of the Pensieve combined with the dying light from the windows to throw shadows onto Draco's face. His eyes narrowed. "Bellatrix."
xxxxx
A/N Short-ish chapter is short, I know, but I hope it's worth it! Did the plot suddenly get too strange? Do you want to stop reading because I'm not making sense anymore? R&R please! Let me know what you think! (If anyone's still reading this, that is. Haha.) I'll try to update again as soon as I can, especially since I've got ideas now.
Again, thank you for your patience. I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
Edit- sorry about the dialogue up there. FFnet cocked up my formatting again (I think) and removed the quotation marks, for some reason. Fixed it now! (I hope.)