A/N: Forgive my short chapters… my mind seems to stop after a thousand words. This one's still a bit short, but please still read it! And hello to my new readers and followers!
Disclaimer: I invented a few characters, spells, potions, and gadgets in this story. But anything familiar to you is definitely not mine.
The Boy Who Lived had finally vanquished Dark Lord, and people in the wizarding world—including those who fought in the war—had started to live complacent lives. When the primary cause of death in the household was no longer wizard and witches in black hooded cloaks but rather sickness, old age, or, as in Ron Weasley's case, a flying car accident, they had gradually learned to cast their vigilance aside. But not Hermione Granger.
Always a step ahead, Draco thought, as Malissa Greenhawk reached for the vial of Verisaterum in Granger's hand. She emptied the vial in one gulp, eyes not leaving Granger's.
"Begin your story," said Draco. The sooner they get the answers they wanted, the sooner he'd forget everything about this mess of a life. Including this mission. Including Granger. He felt his heart twinge in protest for a moment, but he shoved it away.
"Like you, Ms. Granger, I was the brightest witch in Hogwarts during our time. Better than the late Tom Riddle I must say, and he despised me because of that. But that was not the only reason," she revealed, looking intently at Granger.
"You're Muggleborn," Granger replied. All of a sudden, Draco was reminded of his past. His mind recalled the first time he called her a filthy little Mudblood, and the hurt and humiliation he saw in Granger's eyes. He knew that those words had haunted her, that even the hilarity of Weasley's backfired curse was not able to erase them from her mind. What she didn't know, was that they haunted him as well.
"Indeed, Ms. Granger, yet another thing we have in common. As you very well know, Tom Riddle believed that people like me do not deserve recognition in the wizarding world, and so he made it his life's mission to eliminate us. The night Myrtle died, I was lucky enough to be out of Hogwarts' grounds to tend to my dying father. I lost him the following day, inspiring me to write a book that would tell the world about us and how much I loved him, so through those pages, he could live on."
"Operation Daddy's Angel," Draco interrupted.
"Yes, and it was a success. Until Tom Riddle interfered, not happy with the respect and fame I was getting. He cursed my books, each and every one of them, whether it be in the shelves or under a sleeping child's pillow. He destroyed all of them, including its readers, using a darker variation of the spell that you came here to undo."
"Valieris Memoria," answered Granger, which Greenhawk confirmed with a nod.
"When the connection between my book and the increasing number of children admitted in St. Mungo's was discovered by the Ministry, I was summoned for a series of questioning. In between trials, I searched and searched for a way to help those children recover their sanity. When I thought I had come up with the cure, I tested it by reading my own cursed book and trying to cure myself, in desperation. It was a failure. In my last trial, my messed up mind admitted to the crime before the Wizengamot, and so here I am now."
"But you told us you know the cure!" Granger panicked beside him. Was this all a waste of time?
"Yes, I do. I found it when Tom Riddle, who then had just graduated from Hogwarts, paid me a visit in this very cell. 'Such a waste,' I remember him telling me, as his fingers traced the side of my face. And that's when it happened. The cloud that seemed to be trapped inside my head melted, and suddenly I recognized the man in front of me. I was careful enough to hide my discovery until the soon-to-be Dark Lord left me alone in my cell."
"I don't understand,"
"You see, Ms. Granger, the cure to Valieris Memoria is as simple as a touch between the conjurer of the spell and the receiver."
Could it really be that simple?
"There's something else you're not telling us," Draco inferred, just by reading the woman's eyes.
"Indeed," she replied, moving to look for something in her stack of old papers. "Ah here it is," Draco moved closer to the bars to take the parchment from her hand.
"Mentiserum," he read out loud. Below the word was a list of ingredients and several hand-written instructions. "A potion?"
"Once your mind has been altered, it would be impossible to perfectly restore it. There would always be traces that your mind had been touched without your consent. In your times of weakness, when the heart is stronger than the mind, the worse of the hallucinations or the false memories tend to come back and visit your consciousness. This potion is for those times. Let's say it's a maintenance drug, Ms. Granger. Tell your parents to drink it every night."
"Just give me a moment," Granger requested. She took out the wand she'd been gripping inside her robe, placing its tip on her right temple. In deep concentration, she extracted from her temple what looked like a thick silver thread of smoke, which she deposited into the empty vial she'd been holding in her left hand. "I'll take this to Harry," she promised, covering the mouth of the vial with a cork.
"Thank you Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy." He nodded in acknowledgement when she looked at him. "Please send my regards to Mr. Potter, I will forever be in his debt."
"Master Scorpuis! Master Scorpius!" Plompy's voice from the corridors robbed his attention from the photograph in his hand. He buried the evidence of his father's past inside his robe's pocket before rushing out the door to answer the house-elf's call.
"I'm here, Plompy. What's the matter?"
"Miss Astoria, sir! Your mother, sir! She came back!" Plompy's big round eyes were tearful, as if not happy with his mother's return. Scorpius had no idea what to feel. He had not seen his mother for six months, but he wouldn't lie by saying he didn't miss her… he actually did, a little. She brought him into this world after all.
"Where is she?" he asked the house-elf.
"In your father's bedroom, sir!"
"Alright, I'll go and see her. Can you watch over the cauldrons for me? Professor Weasley says it's important."
"Certainly, sir. Plompy will take care of Master Draco's potion."
Before Scorpuis had time to wonder why Plompy seemed to know more about the potion that he did, he was already inside the potions room, sliding the door close.
When Plompy turned 1,887 years old, Master Draco surprised the house-elf by asking what he wanted for his birthday. "Anything except clothes of course, unless… do you want to be free Plompy?"
"No! Never Master Draco! Plompy will forever serve Master Draco and his future family!" he vowed, never forgetting the day that Master Draco set him free from the dungeons and the horrors of Master Lucius' experiments. But Plompy must have said something wrong because Miss Hermione, who was sitting beside Master Draco, looked sad after hearing his answer.
"You hear that Granger?" Master Draco asked, seemingly amused at something." What do you want then, Plompy?"
Looking at his wrinkled feet and playing with the hem of his sack, Plompy answered. "Plompy likes taking pictures, sir. If Master Draco would be so gracious to give Plompy his own camera, Plompy would be very happy indeed."
The next morning, when Plompy woke up on the kitchen table, he found a green box beside him with a note that read:
To Plompy, for your loyalty.
Happy Birthday!
From Draco and Hermione
Plompy hurriedly untied the ribbon and opened the box, and there it was, his very own camera. He took the gift out of the box and stepped out of the kitchen to thank Master Draco and Miss Hermione. He knew just where to find them.
For several days Plompy had been assisting his master and his guest in brewing a very valuable potion. He overheard them calling it the Mentiserum, but Plompy had no idea what it was for. He found their potions chamber after three hundred bouncy steps, but the view before him made house-elf stop in his tracks. Not wanting to ruin the moment, Plompy, being capable of magic, made himself and his new camera invisible and tip-toed inside the room, careful not to make a sound.
Through the invisible camera's lens, Plompy watched as Master Draco gazed lovingly at Miss Hermione's face while she was busy juicing the black berries he plucked for them from the neighbor's garden. He dirtied Miss Hermione's nose with the juice to distract her and so she would look at him. Letting go of the berries, she gave him all her attention and wrapped her arms around his neck. Master Draco captured her waist in a heartbeat, and slowly, he leaned in to take her waiting lips in his.
Beautiful, Plompy thought as he pressed the camera's button to capture the moment. He'd never seen Master Draco this happy, and he wished Miss Hermione would always be by his side.
"I love you," he heard her softly confess as their lips drew apart, looking into his master's eyes, begging him to say the same.
But he didn't.
Plompy saw the traces of shock, fear, and grief across his master's face as he removed her arms around his neck. "No," he whispered, taking a step back.
"Don't ever say that again," he told her before walking out of the room and not looking back.
Not wanting his presence to be felt, Plompy apparated back to the kitchen with his camera, leaving a certain moving photograph on the potion room's floor.
"Technically, I'm still your wife," Scorpius heard his mother saying as he climbed up the stairs to his father's bedroom.
"When you walked out my door six months ago to live with another man, you've lost every right to that word," his father told her, his voice rough from too much sleep.
"But people don't know that, darling." Scorpius was already by bedroom's the half-open door, having a very bad feeling about the direction of this conversation. "Remember our little agreement? You keep your mouth shut about this marriage, and I'll do the same about your… condition." She said the word with so much disgust that Scorpius decided to take back the idea of missing her. "Besides, it's over between me and Cormac… I'm all yours again."
"Scorpius," he jumped at Rose Weasley's voice. He was too engrossed in his parents' conversation that he did not realize her presence.
"How long have you been there?" he asked, not knowing what to say.
"Long enough," said Rose, suddenly uncomfortable. "Listen, my mum thinks we have to go…" He found Professor Weasley quietly standing a flight of stairs below them, her back to him. She must have overheard the exchange.
"But what about the potion? You can't leave 'til it's ready. My dad needs it," he told her in panic, silently blaming his mother for her awesome timing.
"Here," Rose handed him a folded piece of parchment. "The instructions in making the Mentiserum are written there, and we gathered all the ingredients in this pouch. Should you need anything else, just owl me or my mum, and we'll respond immediately."
He looked at Professor Weasley's direction again before taking the pouch from Rose's hand. "Alright," he sighed, "if you really must go."