His dreams were clouded with a foggy haze. He heard voices, some he recognized and others he didn't. One was hers. Words and phrases he couldn't quite place. And then the screaming.
Shrill.
Chilling.
Pained.
He woke up in a cold sweat, his brows knitted together with concern. He glanced down at his watch, one of the only personal possessions that had been returned to him after his hospital stay. The one he really wanted, his wand, was still with her, probably locked away somewhere he'd never think to look. The time was half past eight in the morning. His bladder was protesting uncomfortably.
He pushed himself out of bed, grabbed the toothbrush she'd left him, and opened the door. Once again, a neat little bundle had been laid outside the door. Pants, a shirt, clean underwear and socks, all his, were folded in a pile. He scooped them up and glanced around. The hallway was full of doors. One he knew was his study, but there were a few others. He didn't want to make a wrong guess which one was the bathroom.
Selecting the door immediately to his left, he pushed it open and found what was distinctly a child's bedroom. The walls were lavender and covered with magical firefly lights that sparkled and twinkled as the suns rays poured through the window. A large doll house stood in the corner, so tall it almost touched the ceiling. Three model broomsticks floated about of their own accord, lazily drifting around the top of the room, occasionally bumping into each other. A small bed stood against the left wall, piled high with stuffed creatures and pillows.
It occurred to him with a surprisingly painful lurch in his gut that the room was empty, meaning that the little girl had stayed away with her grandmother on his first night there. Perhaps Granger had been scared he would somehow harm her. The thought made his jaw clench. He stared about the room for only a minute before closing the door with a sigh and trying the door to the other side of the guest room.
He released a sigh of relief as this room contained a large claw-footed tub complete with shower head and curtain, a broad mirror and sink, and to his utter happiness, a toilet. Closing the door behind him, he quickly relieved himself. He changed into the clothes that she had laid out for him- black trousers and a plain grey t-shirt. His inhaled the smell of the shirt as he pulled it over his head. It smelled of lavender and fresh linen, and it was not a smell he was used to smelling. He picked up the toothbrush he'd brought with him but realized he had no toothpaste.
He pulled open the small medicine cabinet on his right and rummaged through some things. There were three shelves. One clearly belonged to a little girl as there was a pink toothbrush, small bottles of play makeup, different types of glittery substances, and a small box filled with hair accessories- rubber bands, ribbons, and clips.
The middle shelf must have been hers. There was a roll of peony scented deodorant, several bottles of hair products, some tubes of real makeup, and her own yellow toothbrush with a small tube of paste. He almost reached for it when he noticed that the top shelf might well be his. There was a comb atop a small container of hair gel, a black bottle of cologne, the same brand of deodorant he'd always used, and there it was, a tube of fresh mint toothpaste all his own.
He snatched it down and proceeded to scrub the taste of sleep out of his mouth. After spitting a final time and wiping his mouth on his arm, he grabbed down the bottle of cologne, spraying a testing squirt into the air. Not finding it repulsive, he squirted his neck once, letting this scent remove the one of his laundered clothing. Next, he applied his deodorant, finding the familiar scent and feel comforting. Finally, he reached for the hair gel. His hair was a different cut than it used to be. It was shorter in the back, but longer in the front. Not quite knowing what to make of it, he attempted to do what he always did, taking the normal amount of gel and slicking his hair straight back. It didn't exactly have the desired effect, but still, it felt more normal than he had felt in a long time.
He placed everything back in the cabinet and left the room. He heard rustling from down the stairs and smelled what must have been the start of breakfast. Remembering her warning from the night before, he found his feet carrying him and his hungry stomach straight down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen and found her busy on the stove once again, this time making scrambled eggs and toast.
Her hair was down, but less bushy than he remembered, although that was probably in part to one or more of the hair products he'd found in the medicine cabinet. She wore jeans and a plain button up white shirt.
He cleared his throat to announce his presence so as not to startle her again. She looked up at him and almost smiled.
"Oh good, you're awake," she chirped as though nothing had gone wrong the night before, as though everything was normal. "Did you sleep well?"
He nodded. "Fine."
"I see you found the clothes I set out for you. I hope they're alright." She spun to a small pot that was plugged into the wall through a normal Muggle outlet. He cringed a little. His house had Muggle electronics. That was something he never thought he'd have to endure. "Coffee?" she asked, pouring the black liquid in the pot into a small cup.
"Sure," he grunted, walking past her to take a seat at the table, not wanting to stand there gawking any longer. He watched her put in just a splash of milk and one spoon of sugar, just like he liked it. His jaw tightened.
"Here you are," she said, setting the cup down in front of him. He muttered a quiet word of thanks before immediately taking a sip. It had been over a month since his last cup of coffee. He quietly savored the familiar bitter taste of morning.
"Where's Weasley?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Oh, he left," she said. "It's the middle of the work week and he had to go to the Ministry."
"Why aren't you there then?"
"I took a couple of personal days to be at home," she replied, stirring cut up peppers and onions into her eggs.
"Oh."
Suddenly there was a knock on the front door. His insides squirmed uncomfortably. No matter who it was, he was sure their arrival wouldn't be entirely pleasant for him.
"It's open, Mum!" Hermione called toward the door, her hands busy with breakfast.
The knob turned and in walked a woman who looked very much like he imagined Granger would in 20 years. She was holding the hand of the same little girl he was coming to believe was his.
"Mummy!" the little girl cried, releasing her grandmother's hand to fling herself at Hermione's legs.
Hermione dropped her cooking utensils so that she could bend down to meet her daughter's wild hug. "Good morning my darling," the woman cooed. "I missed you. Did you have fun with your grandmother?"
Lacey nodded enthusiastically. "We went to the zoo!"
"You did?" Hermione feigned surprised. "And what animals did you see?"
"All of them!" the little girl cried with excitement.
"Tell your mum which was your favorite," the older woman pressed.
Lacey began to swing her body side to side, lumbering around the kitchen. "The hippo walked like this, Mum! Hippo. Hippo. Hippo." Every step she took was matched with one of the words, her voice lowered in a silly way. "Hippo. Hippo. Hipp- Daddy!"
She finally noticed her father sitting at the table as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.
Hermione was on top of the child instantly before she could make a move, gripping the small girl's hand protectively. "Remember what we talked about, love?" she whispered in her daughter's ear. "We have to give your father space for a few days. We're very happy he's home though, right?" Lacey nodded eagerly. "And his head might hurt easily, so we have to try to remember our inside voice, yeah?" The little girl continued to nod. "Right then." Hermione stood back up and went over to pull their breakfast off the heat.
"Draco," the older woman said with a nod in his direction, clearly unsure what the proper greeting was in this situation. "It's good to see you. I hope you're feeling better. We were all worried."
If all had come to pass the way Granger wanted him to think, then this woman was his mother-in-law. They had likely spent holidays together. Perhaps Christmas, birthdays, casual Sunday brunches. His throat tightened uncomfortably and he grunted in response.
Meanwhile, Lacey clamored up in a seat beside him and began to stare. At first Draco tried to ignore it, but when the child hadn't looked away in over a minute, he finally met her stare back. "What?" he asked, trying not to sound annoyed, although he most certainly was.
"I missed you," she smiled sweetly, reaching forward to grab at his hand.
He was startled, but he didn't pull his hand away, allowing the little girl to hold it and plant tiny kisses along his fingers.
Hermione and her mother were lost in a conversation, presumably about how Lacey had behaved in her grandmother's care. They didn't even notice what was unfolding at the table.
Draco scrutinized the girl's face. She had his eyes, that was certain. Little pools of molten silver. She had his cheekbones, too, another bold feature. Her mouth, though, that was Granger's. And the curls in her hair belonged to her mother too. There was almost no denying her parentage and that thought sickened him.
They had been staring at each other for awhile now, and Draco had never been around children before since the time he himself was one, but he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, almost on instinct. This caused her to giggle loudly. Her laughter warmed him on the inside and he felt his heart rate quicken. If sounds directly correlated to emotions, her laughter was his euphoria.
"What's going on over there, you two?" Hermione asked, responding to her daughter's laughter.
"Nothing," Draco said quickly, dropping his hands to his lap like he'd been caught misbehaving.
"Well, I'm going to be off now, dear," the older woman said. "I'll give you all some alone time."
"You're more than welcome to stay for breakfast," Hermione urged.
She doesn't want to be left alone with me, Draco realized, his laughter-induced-euphoria receding quickly.
"No, no, I don't want to intrude. And Bingo starts at the community center in an hour. You know I hate to miss it."
Hermione gave her mother a hug goodbye. "Thank you for watching her," she smiled. "I'm glad she behaved well."
"She was an angel, as usual," the older woman agreed. "Ring me if you need anything. I'd be happy to watch her again if you need me to."
"Bye, Gramma!" Lacey called from the table.
"Goodbye, my darling."
Draco watched the door open and shut once again, and then they were alone. The three of them. His mouth twitched. He suddenly felt very trapped.
Draco sat at his desk, his feet up in their usual place on the corner as he browsed through his list of tasks for the day. They were all rather mundane. Nothing exciting. No raids, no house calls, no site visitations. Just paperwork and loads of it.
Suddenly there was a body in the seat across from his desk. He glanced up to find Potter.
"Last night," Potter started, his voice unsteady. "You were in my girlfriend's apartment."
Draco grunted in affirmation.
"You snogged my best friend."
The admittance of it still seemed strange despite that fact that he had spent all night thinking about it.
"Do you have a point, Potter? Or are we just stating the obvious? If so, let's talk about the elephant in the room because it was your white arse."
Harry's jaw set uncomfortably. "What are you doing, Malfoy? Is this a game to you?"
Draco then realized what was happening. Potter was playing the part of the older brother come to rescue his sister from the big, bad man.
"If you hurt her, Malfoy, I swear I'll-"
"You'll what?" Draco asked, lowering his feet to the floor so he could lean in to the conversation. "You'll fire me? Hex me? Hunt me down and kill me?" Their eyes were locked across the desk in a heated challenge.
"Just don't hurt her," Harry finished. "I know she's more than capable of protecting herself and that she's smarter than most of the people I know put together, but she's still capable of getting hurt. And she's already had her fair share of it. So don't you hurt her too. If you're planning on casting her aside without a second thought, I'd do it now before feelings get involved."
Draco dropped his defenses and sighed once, realizing Potter wasn't trying to be difficult. He was trying to take care of his friend in repayment to all the times she'd taken care of him, and Draco respected him for that. This group he had somehow found himself in the middle of was tight-knit and he was an outsider. Despite his feelings already being involved, he knew what he had to do as there was no way for this situation to end well.
"Not to worry, Potter because it won't be happening again."
She paced outside of his study for more than five minutes tossing the idea over in her head. Breakfast had gone so smoothly, so surely this wouldn't be catastrophic. She was running out of time and it was too late now to contact Ginny. She'd waited too long and she had no choice anymore. He was her father, and somewhere deep down he still had to remember the basics of child care. She knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in," he said, trying to sound official.
She pushed open the door and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Erm- Draco? I have a favor to ask of you and I know you won't want to, but I really need you." Words that were once easy for her now left the air thick with discomfort.
His face remained impassive, but she could see all the thoughts playing out behind his eyes.
"I need you to watch Lacey for me. Just for maybe fifteen minutes. Half an hour at the most!" Her voice was speeding up as she rushed to get through her request before he could erupt in an angry and vocal disagreement. "The Ministry just owled me and I need to go in for a quick meeting. I'm vying for a promotion and I just really need you to do this for me, Draco. She's down for a nap right now and you only need to make sure that if she wakes up, she doesn't break anything or hurt herself. Please."
He continued to stare at her, finding her frazzled rambling oddly endearing. But he couldn't watch the child. A wild list of things that could go wrong played out in his mind and he started to shake his head.
"Draco, please," she urged again. "She'll likely be asleep in her bed the whole time. You won't even know she's here!"
He saw the level of desperation in her eyes and sighed in defeat. "You'll be back in half an hour?"
"At the most," she pressed.
"Fine."
"Really? You'll do it?" The level of surprise in her voice should have been insulting.
"I'm not an idiot. I can watch a child for a few minutes. Just go before I change my mind."
"Thank you! Thank you!" She took off down the stairs and out the door before he could completely process what he'd agreed to.
Engrossed in his book, he didn't even notice when ten minutes later, little stockinged feet padded into his study.
"Daddy?" a little voice asked.
Draco slowly lowered his book, his eyes coming to rest on the figure of his daughter in the middle of the room. A stuffed cat was in her hands as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"Bugger," he muttered, book-marking his page and setting the volume down on his desk. He'd never been alone with a child before and he didn't know how to speak to one.
"Go back to sleep," he suggested gently, hoping the child would skip right back to her bed and sleep until her mother arrived.
"I'm not sweepy."
"Of course you're not," he groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration. How did you entertain a child? They weren't dogs, so you couldn't play fetch with them and they didn't just chase their tails in circles. "Do you play chess?" he asked her.
She shook her head, sending her curls bouncing. "Come play dolls," she demanded. Her tone reminded her of one he so often used and he couldn't help but chuckle.
"I don't play dolls," he insisted.
She made a noise of frustration and disappeared back out the door. He listened for any sounds of trouble, but assumed she'd gone back to her room to play quietly, so he picked his book back up and opened it to the page he'd left off on. Seconds later, a doll with messy red hair was being dropped into his lap.
"What is this?" He picked the doll up by one arm and shook a little.
"Annie," the little girl chirped. "She's your dolly. She's likes to ride horsies and sing songs."
Draco stared down at the little girl in horror. "I don't have a 'dolly'."
Lacey grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. He obliged, more out of curiosity than willingness. She yanked him across the hall and into her little purple room, dropping his hand when they were standing in front of her giant doll house.
Lacey sat down on the floor and patted the space next to her. Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure no one was watching him (although who would be?) before he sat down and crossed his legs, leaning back on his hands casually.
"This is Julie," she prattled, pronouncing the name Ju-wee. "Julie is my fav-o-rite." She put the blonde doll in Draco's lap. "Julie is Annie's sister. They live here." She pointed to a room in the doll house, snatching Julie back from him to put her in her room, sitting in a chair. She put a stuffed dog in his lap then. "This is Doggy."
"How creative," Draco commented sarcastically.
"You be Doggy and Annie," Lacey dictated. "I'll be Julie and their Mum," she added, holding up another doll.
Draco sighed deeply. "How do I play?" he asked quietly as though someone would overhear.
"Get up," Lacey commanded. "Up like this!" She demonstrated by getting close to the doll house up on her knees.
She grabbed hold of Julie and made the doll move a little as she spoke in a quiet falsetto, "Hello Annie, how are you today?"
Draco stared at her blankly and the little girl sighed, reaching down for his hand that was still holding Annie. She lifted his arm so his doll was next to hers. "Now you talk," she urged.
"Umm, hello Julie?" he started. This whole concept was ridiculous.
"No, no, not like that!" Lacey cried. "You have to do the voice!"
"What voice?"
"Annie's voice!"
"I can't do that." She stared at him so intensely that he felt no other option. He cleared his throat and tried again, using a high-pitched tone this time, if only to appease her. "Hello Julie. I am fine."
Lacey beamed, making Julie hug Annie in an awkward bump-together fashion. "Let's take Doggy for a walk, Annie!"
"Okay!" he squeaked, reaching for the stuffed puppy.
The two of them ran all over her room to take Doggy for his walk. She occasionally corrected his playing skills gently, showing him the ways of the doll world. She got that trait from her mother.
After awhile, Draco glanced toward the door and noticed Hermione staring at the pair of them. He jumped to his feet instantly, which proved to be a mistake as one of the broomsticks circling the ceiling smacked directly into his head, smarting sharply.
"G-Granger!" he stuttered. "We were just- this isn't what it- you're home!"
"It's nice to see you taking up your role as Annie again so quickly," Hermione noted. Draco promptly dropped the doll in his hand, causing her to clatter to the floor. Lacey made a noise of distress, but he ignored it.
"Now that you're back, I'm going to return to my book," he said, his voice going suddenly cold again as he stormed past her, slamming the door to his study behind him.
"Draco?" Hermione stood outside the door to the guest bedroom rocking on her heels nervously. "Draco?" she called again. Not receiving an answer, she knocked twice lightly.
Suddenly the door flung open revealing a man who had clearly just rolled out of bed. His hair was mussed and he wore his lounging pants and a plain white t-shirt. "What do you want?" he snarled.
She was taken aback by his tone for a moment, but quickly launched into what she wanted to tell him. "Do you remember when Ron and I got you at the hospital and they said you would need weekly therapy sessions?"
His silence implied that he did in fact remember as he folded his arms across his chest. His dark stare pressed her to continue.
"Well, they're going to start today. Your therapist will be here in about an hour. They thought it best that the therapy happened here because most of your recent memories were here, so erm-" She bit her lip and looked away from his gaze. His stare was so sharp that she felt she might be impaled by it. "Your lie-in will have to be shorter than usual today due to that. There's fruit and a pastry on the counter for your breakfast."
"Where are you going?" he asked, confused as to why they weren't having a big family meal today. He wasn't complaining. Being on his own was much more his speed, but it did strike him as odd.
"Lacey and I will be giving you some privacy," Hermione explained. "We've already eaten and we'll be spending the day in Diagon Alley. I didn't want to wake you until now, but I just thought you should know they're coming and that you should cooperate or it's possible the hospital won't let you stay here anymore."
He could hear the pain in her voice. Even though he'd given her nothing but grief, he could tell that it would hurt her to see him go. Her pain made him uncomfortable, but it was also flattering.
"Fine," he said in response.
"Right then," she muttered, playing with the hem of her shirt awkwardly. "I guess we'll see you later."
"Fine," he repeated.
"Okay." She rocked on her heels once before walking back down the hall to the stairs. He watched her walk away.
Sitting outside Florean Fortescue's (which thankfully had re-opened after the war under the ownership of Florean's son), Hermione helped Ginny hand ice cream cones to their small army of children. A very pregnant Fleur passed around napkins to everyone, making sure no one was dripping on their laps. Ages ranged between eight and one between the six children. Teddy was the oldest and assisted the younger ones where he could.
Despite it being the start of December, Diagon Alley was pleasantly warm thanks to the magic that kept it hidden from the whole of London. Snow and wind could not reach the street and with the hustle and bustle of daily life, it was almost the same temperature as it would be months later. This made mid-winter ice cream trips all the more exciting.
"I don't know," Hermione mused, scooting her chair over to make more room for Dominique at her left. "He goes through phases. One moment he's relatively fine and the next he's exploding about something small."
"Zat sounds like he's being stubborn," Fleur commented, her French accent much lighter than it once was thanks to eight years of living in England.
Ginny let out a loud laugh. "If there's one word I would use to describe him, that would definitely be it."
"Do you think he'll remember?" Fleur asked seriously. "Has he remembered anything yet?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. All he does is sit in his study and read all day. He barely leaves except to eat and use the toilet."
"You should make rules about how much time he can spend there," the blonde woman suggested.
"Rules?" Ginny asked. "That's a sure-fire way to make him resent her. He'll start thinking of her as a warden rather than a wife."
"What's a warden?" Teddy asked, slurping on his peanut butter ice cream.
Quick on her feet, Ginny explained, "A warden is like a prison guard. Like how the dementors used to guard Azkaban. They were sort of like creepy, hooded wardens."
Teddy nodded that he understood and continued with his treat, kicking playfully at Victoire from under the table.
"Eenough," Fleur sighed, swatting at the two of them. "You're going to knock ze table over."
"Sorry Mum," Victoire giggled.
"What about you?" Hermione asked, quickly turning the focus from herself. "How much longer until your due date?"
Fleur sighed dramatically. "Little Louis won't be joining us for another six weeks still. I can already tell he will be a handful with ze amount of kicking he does."
"He'll be a handful judging by the current Weasley boys anyway," Ginny muttered bitterly as she watched Albus throw his spoon onto the ground with a holler. "Albus Arthur Potter, you're going to be the death of me." She picked up his spoon, cleaned it with a wave of her wand, and stuck it back in his waiting hand.
"Me! Me! Me!" Albus echoed, causing everyone in the group to laugh.
"How do you think Draco is getting along with his 'therapist'," Hermione mused to Ginny, her eyebrows raised precariously.
Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically. "We'll be lucky if your house is still standing at the end of the hour if I'm being honest."
There was a knock on his study door. Either Granger hadn't left or he had a very forward therapist who had decided to let themselves into his house. "Enter," he called, his expression skeptical.
Harry Potter walked into the room, a large bag in his hand. "Hello," he said. "I hope you don't mind that I saw myself in, but I sort of arrived by floo powder so I didn't use the front door anyway."
Draco stared at him blankly. "What are you doing here, Potter? This is sort of a bad time."
"Didn't Hermione tell you I was coming by?"
"She told me my therapist was coming over, but she didn't say anything about moral support or whatever reason it is you decided to be here."
"Draco," Harry started, his voice hesitant. "I am your therapist."
"You? Is this a sick joke? You're an Auror! You have no business meddling around with my memories! I refuse!"
Harry had expected this reaction to some degree. "I might not be a healer, but I am one of only three wizards in the country who is an accomplished Legilimens. St. Mungo's decided it would be better if I helped you rather than a stranger, so here I am."
"An accomplished what?"
Harry sighed. Of course, he'd forgotten all the terms he'd learned leading up to and immediately following the war. "A Legilimens is someone who can sort of read the thoughts of others. To put it simply. Although it's much more complicated than that. The mind is made of many layers and it's all about separating the layers to find what you're looking for."
"No. No way am I letting you read my thoughts!"
"What do you really think you have to hide from me, Draco? I already know everything! And whatever I pull to the surface- whatever I can see, you'll also be able to see!" He set his bag down on the ground and pulled out a small silver basin. "And this, Draco? This is a pensieve. It's mine. It has my memories in it, including all those that you're a part of. What better to help you remember than stepping back inside and re-living things? I can help you if you let me, but you're going to have to trust me."
Draco glowered. Being asked to trust Harry Potter was like being asked to put on a Hufflepuff tie and do a waltz around the Great Hall with Professor Trelawney in the middle of the end of the year feast. The idea repulsed him on a personal level.
"I'm not thick, Potter. I'm not letting you in my skull."
"I'm not trying to trick you, Malfoy." It was the first time in four years that Harry had called Draco by his last name, but it felt right to do so again. He hadn't missed being called Potter in that sneering and condescending way Malfoy always made it sound, almost like it was a dirty word. "This is by order of the hospital, so you can either let me try or you can go back to your precious bed in the loony ward."
There was no reply. Locking his jaw and filled with frustration, Harry packed up his bag once more. "Fine then. Have it your way. Tell Lockhart I said hello." Before he could get to the door, there was an arm sticking out blocking his path.
"I want to remember," Draco whispered urgently, no sneer hidden behind his words. "I'm not good at all of this, but I want to remember her. I want to remember her like she is right now and not like I remember her before."
All of his thoughts and memories of Hermione Granger were clouded over with prejudice and judgment. He couldn't stop seeing her as the little girl who had such a strong desire to show off, who thought of him as a cold-blooded menace and only associated with heroes. Even now, whenever he looked at her he was filled with dread at the pit of his stomach. They were inherently different, and that wasn't something he could just cast aside in a day.
"Help me," he pressed. "I'm sorry I'm not who you remember me to be, so help me. Please."
It was the first time since the accident that Harry had heard Draco speak with complete politeness. There was no sign of hatred in his voice, only helplessness and fear.
"That's why I'm here. I wouldn't be if I didn't want to help you. I miss my friend."
Hearing Harry Potter refer to him as a friend was a bit unsettling. The last interaction he remembered between them prior to waking up in St. Mungo's was Potter handing over a bezoar in potion's class and getting top marks without even having to lift a finger. Meanwhile, he had been covered in his own attempt to come up with an antidote to cyanide, a poison more commonly used among Muggles and therefore a potion he had no business meddling in. Thinking of the precious boy-hero as someone close, as a friend and confidant was strange and felt wrong.
But he was tired of pretending the life he was living wasn't his own when he was so sure now that it must be. "Do your worst," he said, standing with his back to his desk, hands clenched on either side of it's surface, facing Potter in preparation for what was to come.
"I happen to know that this has happened to you before when Bellatrix taught you Occlumency. Do you remember that? Or was it after your memories end?"
"Everything toward the end is fuzzy," Draco admitted. "I remember flashes of things toward the middle of the sixth year, but I don't remember that."
"Well, today won't be anything too exciting," Harry said sullenly. "I'm on orders to take things easy. So today will be an assessment."
Draco let out a sigh of relief.
"Don't get me wrong," Harry added quickly. "It won't be pleasant by any means. But you don't have to attempt to focus on anything in particular. Just try to clear your mind."
"Yeah, like that's so easy," Draco muttered.
Harry remembered his own trials with Legilimency and understood where Draco was coming from. Ridding your mind of thoughts and feelings was far easier said than done. Thankfully, he wasn't trying to teach Draco to close off his mind with Occlumency, so this would be easier than his own ordeal had been years ago.
"Just relax," Harry pressed again. "Have a seat and close your eyes. Just think of something ordinary."
Draco took a seat behind his desk in his chair, doing as Potter requested. He closed his eyes, but not before a short glare in the other man's direction. He attempted to focus all of his energy and thoughts on just one thing. The ordinary thing he picked was a rock. It didn't get much plainer than that.
The rock he was thinking of was large and round, more of a boulder really. It was sandy in color with speckles of a darker brown inside. This rock was one that sat in his garden as a boy and he had crawled on many times. It had been his mountain, his boat, and his broomstick in many different boyhood adventures.
As he concentrated, he heard Harry shuffle around in front of him, preparing for what was to come.
"Legilimens!"
Childhood memories began to swim before his eyes. His grandfather handed him a blank journal emblazoned with the family crest, his eyes clouded over with blindness.
His toes skimmed the grass as he first flew on a broomstick over the countryside surrounding Malfoy Manor. His mother and father stood looking on, pride in his father's eyes. One of the few times he ever truly saw it.
The sorting hat was being placed on his head. "Slytherin!" rang in his ears just the same as the day he was sorted. His heart soared with pride.
Pansy Parkinson hovered just inches from his face, her lashes long as she peered through them to look at him. She got closer and closer until their lips were touching, his hands trembling from a mix of excitement and anticipation.
A small girl, no more than six years old with straight blonde hair ran ahead of him, her knees scabbed and her silver eyes wild. "Come, Draco!" she called, extending her hand out for him to grab. Her laughter echoed off the walls of his mind.
"ENOUGH!" he yelled, slamming his hands onto the desk in front of him.
"That was a good start," Harry commented. His voice revealed that he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. "Next time you'll need to try to think of more recent things. Focus on a certain memory you want to recall. Think of Lacey or Hermione or-"
"There won't be a next time," Draco spat. "This is ridiculous and pointless and I don't want you in my head, Potter."
"We need to try again or I can't assess the state of your memories."
"The state of my memories is that they're gone. End of story."
"For your sake, I really hope that's not true."
"No, you mean for her sake. Granger's."
Harry didn't disagree. "I'll be here the same time next week, and I expect you to not give me trouble about it. And that is for all our sakes."
It was late. The world was dark and his thoughts plagued him. There were so many questions on his mind and not enough answers. His footsteps fell heavy on the stairs, causing her to turn and meet his gaze from her spot on the couch.
"Hello," he said, his tone sullen.
"Hello yourself," she smiled slightly, setting her book aside.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked stiffly.
She slid over and put her feet on the floor making room for him in the seat next to her.
"How was Diagon Alley?" He tried to keep his tone light, but clearly small talk was not something he was used to or particularly good at.
"It was nice. Ginny, Fleur, and I took all the children out for ice cream and then shopping for candy and other things to spoil them with." She smiled at the memory.
"Fleur? As in the veela from the Triwizard Tournament?" He couldn't believe that Granger had stayed friends with someone so radically different from herself.
"Ah, yes, that's right! You don't remember! It happened after!" Hermione realized, of course, that there were many things he didn't remember, but they had spent so much time focusing on the big things like their house, their marriage, and their daughter that she hadn't stopped to think about how many little things he must have forgotten too.
"What did?"
"Ron's older brother Bill married Fleur at the beginning of what would have been our seventh year. They now have two daughters and a son on the way."
"The veela married a Weasley?"
"She did." Hermione ignored his jab at the Weasley family, and continued, "They're a lovely couple. And truly there's more to her than her fraction of veela heritage."
Draco waved a hand to dismiss her oncoming rant, pressing the conversation onward. "So you spent the day with Weaselette, the veela, and some babies. How enjoyable," he said sarcastically.
"They weren't all babies," Hermione snapped. "Victoire, Fleur's oldest is six and very helpful and Teddy is eight, so he's of the age where he's almost good conversation at this point."
"Teddy?"
"Ah yes, he's Harry's godson. He and Ginny watch him a few days a week. He's your cousin actually. He's Tonks' son."
"My cousin Nymphadora had a baby?"
It had always taken Hermione aback that he referred to his cousin by her first name, but she also supposed it made sense. Draco had barely more than met his cousin in her lifetime and therefore had no reason to call her by her surname as most of her friends had. "She did," Hermione affirmed. "She married Professor Lupin."
Draco's eyes widened with shock. He clearly wasn't expecting that pairing. "How are they doing?" His voice was stretched, uncomfortable, as though it were an object he was trying to smash into a space that was ten times too small.
"They're dead. They died in the war." Where once her voice would have cracked and tears would have sprung to her eyes, Hermione's face remained blank. There were some wounds that time could cauterize, and this was one of them. It had been almost eight years since she'd lost her friends and eight years was a long time to become accustomed to a certain type of pain. "Teddy lives with his grandmother, your Aunt Andromeda now," she finished quietly.
"What else happened since the war? How are my friends? Crabbe? Goyle? Zabini? Pansy?"
Hermione couldn't believe he'd waited this long to ask about the war. Although, this was the first time he'd acted like he truly believed there had been one.
Her face twisted in a pained expression. "Draco..." she said quietly, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his knee. He didn't pull away, although he squirmed a bit against her touch. "Draco, I'm so sorry, but Crabbe died in the battle at Hogwarts. He burned alive." Her voice caught in her throat. "Harry, Ron, and I only just pulled you and Goyle to safety or you would have burned too."
His face was blank as the news of his friend's death sunk in. Anyone else would have thought he didn't care, but Hermione noticed the slight twitch in his jaw that indicated he was biting back emotions. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he quietly asked, "You saved me? Why?"
"Because you didn't deserve to die for your friend's mistake. Crabbe started that fire out of vengeance, but you and Goyle didn't have to perish with him."
"And the others?" His eyes were covered by a dark cloud that she knew would break open later when she wasn't looking. Even before the accident he didn't like for her to see him cry.
"I wish I had better news to deliver. But Goyle died too a few years later. No one knows what happened as there was never a report filed, but he was found dead just outside of Liverpool in an abandoned building. There were no signs of foul play." Her voice accelerated in speed as she attempted to get all of her words out before he could interrupt. "Pansy got married to Marcus Flint, the old Slytherin Quidditch captain, almost immediately after the war. Within a year they had a baby. I don't know much else. Erm- Blaise works at the Ministry. You get lunch with him every so often, but you're not close."
His expression remained unchanged. "What about your friends? Patil, Brown, Loony?"
Hermione sighed deeply, her body shuddering involuntarily.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, his politeness catching her off guard. "I know this must be hard for you, but I want to understand."
She continued her explanations, doing her best to keep her composure. "Parvati and I were never close. She still writes to Ginny every so often and I guess she married some professional Quidditch player from Romania and she lives there now. Lavender was hurt badly in the war. Her face was disfigured and it's the type of scarring that medical magic can't fix. About two months after the final battle, she disappeared and no one has heard from her. And Luna..." Hermione's voice caught in her throat.
"Luna was engaged to Neville for awhile. They were happy."
"What happened?"
"She left. He woke up one morning about two years ago and there was a note on her pillow along with his mother's engagement ring saying she wouldn't be back for awhile and that he should move on. There was no explanation and it didn't say where she was going. Although she's written a few times and we think she might be in Africa. I think trying to be ordinary didn't suit her very well. Neville is with Hannah Abbott now."
Draco's brow was furrowed as he processed everything, both the news about his friends and the news about people he thought of as enemies.
"Who else died?"
His question was blunt.
She turned slightly to hug her knees to her chest, feeling the weight of his question holding her to the couch. The casualties of war were one of the least discussed topics among the survivors. She knew he deserved to know though, and that was the only thing that pushed her forward. "You already know about Tonks, Remus, and Crabbe. Obviously Voldemort." He cringed at the word. Hermione hadn't seen anyone cringe at Voldemort's name in years and the sight would have been almost comical if the mood weren't so somber. "Professor Moody, your Aunt Bellatrix, Dumbledore, Scrimgeour, Ted Tonks, your old elf Dobby, Colin Creevey, Professor Snape, Ron's brother Fred..."
"Snape's dead?"
"Yes."
After a long moment of silence, Hermione finally spoke again, if only to ease the tension. "How did your session with Harry go today?"
His silver eyes turned from the piece of floor he'd been viciously staring at to pierce her own. "You could have warned me it'd be Potter trying to dig around in my head and not just some old healer."
"You would have disappeared or worse," Hermione noted. She wasn't wrong. "Although I am sorry I misled you."
"It was fine," he shrugged, trying to keep the tone light and casual now that they had moved on from the subject of death. "He sounds like he's hopeful everything is there, but it's going to take time. Piss all."
"Harry knows what he's doing."
"It doesn't mean I have to like it."
"It doesn't mean you have to fight everything tooth and nail when you know it's for the best."
He closed his eyes and bit his lip, re-opening them only when he was ready to speak. "I didn't choose for this to happen you know."
"I know."
"If I could pull some imaginary cork and bring everything back to spare us the hassle I would."
"I know."
"I don't think you're repulsive."
"I know."
"I just can't bring myself to-"
"I know," she said again, leaning forward to cover both his hands with hers. "You don't have to explain. I understand that you're doing your best. I just miss you. And not the you you are right now- no offense. But I miss the you I married. I miss my best friend. And I know you're trying and that you're scared about trying because you feel like it means you're giving up, but I can assure you that the you I know would want you to give up and stop being stubborn. Because the you that I know- he misses me too. And sooner or later he's going to crawl through that metaphorical wall in your head to come back to me. I just need you to let him do that."
His whole body ached from the chest out. His emotions were running rampant around his head and his heart was heavy with the weight of things he'd lost. Had he cried when Crabbe died? Goyle? Had he been the one to push Pansy or Blaise away? Had Granger had anything to do with his choices or had they been made before she came into the picture? He knew there was a chance he'd never know and the closest thing he had to knowing the answers to the things he'd missed was the woman sitting in front of him.
When she looked at him, she didn't see her husband anymore. He'd taken that away from her. She saw a stranger hiding in the body of someone she loved and he knew that. He could sense how tense she was with him sitting so close and could see how every move he made resulted in an involuntarily counter-move on her end as she strove to keep arms distance when possible.
Perhaps she thought allowing him to get close would be like cheating on the man she loved, or perhaps she resented him for the pain he was putting her through. Either way, the tension his presence was creating was almost crippling.
He stood quickly, the rapid change in altitude making the world go temporarily black and his knees go weak. Once he'd regained his composure, he gave her a slight bow of his head. "Goodnight, Granger."
She watched him walk away, finally letting the tears fall from her eyes, hot and heavy into her lap. "Sweet dreams, Draco," she mumbled.
A/N: I know, it's been half of forever, so don't hate me! First things first, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Second things second, before anyone can say anything, YES I KNOW I gave Albus the "wrong" middle name, but I like to think that with Draco in their lives, he would have actually talked some sense into them about naming a child after Snape as I hope he'd come to realize that Snape was almost as much of a bully as his father. Is that too hopeful? Ah well. This chapter was a bit rough for me to write as it had a lot of information and a lot of dialogue that I hope I did a decent job of keeping mostly in character. Please let me know your thoughts, and I remain humbly indebted to you for your honest feedback and positive reinforcement. Until next time.
-Ashley