Disclaimer: not mine boohoo.

A/n: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! I've been away aNd running errands and have been so knackered that I can barely put two and two together, much less a whole story! So I'm really really really sorry!

Any way, hoped you like this chappie! :)

Chapter Eight-Present

With a quick spell, he healed the wound. He evanescoed away the blood. And soon, there was nothing left to prove that he was cut. But his mind was still searing from the memory.

It was probably the first time that he had thought of her in a light that wasn't shrouded in disgust. He had spent a week after that avoiding her, thinking that if they could forget the incident, then it wouldn't be true.

But she was as stubborn as they came. She made him talk to her, and then, as cliche as it sounded, he saw the light.

Merlin, he was such a pansy.

Chuckling at the thought, he swiveled in his office chair, allowing himself to remember all her little quirks and amusing antics. Her fiery temper, and her propensity for getting herself into trouble- a trait that he had once thought that Potter had possessed, but contrary to popular belief, it was his Hermione that acted as a magnet to all things dangerous.

No wonder he had been irrevocably, completely, absolutely pulled to her.

A knock came from the door, and a hair of red popped from the opening, dragging with her the boy who just wouldn't die. He put his head in his hands, cursing himself for forgetting about this little yearly check ups that the stupidly idiotically happy couple did every year.

"Malfoy." The redhead grinned, giving him a hug-a hug (ew). Five years of this and he still hated it every time she did this. Annoying overly friendly redhead.

"Weaslette." He said, giving her back two pats before extricating himself from her vice like grip. Potter gave him a pat on the shoulder, and the two made themselves comfortable on his office chairs. He was never going to escape these meetings, wasn't he?

"How are you doing, mate?" Potter said, gruffly, trying to act cheerful. Draco was sure that he had been roped into this by the Weaslette, so he gave the other man a nod and shrugged in reply.

Did he expect him to be alright? The love of his life died five years from today. He should have been wallowing in the pits of sorrow, if Draco had his way. It was a wonder that he wasn't intoxicated by now.

"I'm fine." He settled, not really guilty over lying to the savior of the wizarding world. He was still slightly angry towards Potter. Though admittedly, his bitterness was irrational, but no amount of thinking himself out of it could stamp down the thoughts of accusation.

He was there when Hermione died. There when her life, her precious and too-short-lived life, was cut off from her human body. Potter was there when she fought for her last few breaths, whispering things to him. Those last few words should have belonged to Draco. He was supposed to have that last remnant of her. But no. Bloody fucking Potter manages to steal a piece of her that should have belonged to Draco.

He gets to have another memory of her added to his endless vault of memories of Hermione Granger.

It angered him, even until now.

And deep, deep down. In the recesses of his mind, he couldn't help but put a little blame on the man sitting before him. The proclaimed hero. Dark Lord slayer. Saviour of the World.

If he could save the world, then why couldn't he have saved his best friend?

He saw that Potter understood why he thought that way. Hell, he was plagued by the notion too. Whereas Draco couldn't sleep from the loss of his beloved. Harry couldn't sleep from the guilt of not being able to save his best friend.

And that was why Draco had never called him out on it. It was why Draco left Potter alone. It was why they decided to be civil.

He was suffering too.

It had been a surprise, a month after Hermione's death, that the golden couple had come barging into the manor, along with Blaise, and made him presentable. He knew that it had probably been a request from Hermione-to keep him from slipping back into the dark chasm he was in before her. His life was split into two definitive categories. With her and without her.

She probably knew that his existence, without her, would be bleak at best.

So she decided to unleash her bloody friends on him.

She must have been drunk when she made the Weaslette promise to keep track of him.

"We're going to visit her grave today," Ginny said after a few minutes of pointless blabber, fake enthusiasm palpable. "Do you want to accompany us?"

"No."

"But, Malfoy, you-"

"I said no." He said with finality, using the tone of voice that had always made her stop bothering him.

"Don't talk to her like that." Potter snapped, frowning at him. He met his hateful stare with equal intensity.

"Alright." She whispered softly, sensing his hurt beneath his stone-cold farce. "We'll make sure that no one can get in after six, yeah?"

He nodded slowly, trying to show her his appreciation without words. "Yes, that would be convenient."

He didn't need to add thanks. The redhead knew that it was already there.

They left not soon after that, but not before hounding him for a few more minutes. He shook his head at their dedication to get him to include them in his grief. It was probably hard for the two, going there every month then every just to see how their sworn enemy was coping from the loss of their best friend. Granger must have threatened them pretty well, to keep them coming back to his snarky self without fail.

Or maybe she didn't have to threaten them. She was good at getting what she wanted.

No wonder she caught him.

He chuckled softly, imagining her slapping him upside the head for that comment. She would then berate him and rant and talk his ear off some more while he would sit and stare at her and wonder how he ever managed to make someone as beautiful as her fall in love with him.

It was a fluke of nature.

But it was a fluke that he had treasured while it lasted.

He stopped his train of thoughts.

Thinking about their happy times would just lead to him thinking about how he missed her. And missing her was never good. Missing her led to drinking copious amounts of liquor. Copious amounts of liquor led to hallucinations of her. And the loss of those hallucinations would sucker punch his heart and rip open the stitches all over again.

No. He wasn't supposed to think like this. Grieving could come later. He needed to be sane if he wanted to last through the day.

"Penny!" He called from his desk.

No answer. Damn, it was probably the wrong name. "Polly!"

Wrong again.

"Pattie?"

Finally, the woman turned, saying, "It's Andy, sir."

"I could've sworn that your name started with a P." He muttered to himself. "Give me the permanent patient files. I want to do my rounds today."

"Right away, sir." His secretary squeaked, turning and summoning a stack of hospital records, levitating them to his desk. "And sir, you have to meet the architect from Australia tomorrow."

"Architect?"

"Yes sir, the one who's supposed to design the new Dragon Pox Wing She wants you to finalize and approve her designs before she gives them to the contractors."

"Right." Draco said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he catalogued the information. Standing up, he picked up the stack and strode towards his office door. "I'll be back after lunch."

"James." Draco said, approaching the aging man with his stack of papers. "How are you feeling today?"

"Same as yesterday, kid." The old man laughed, grinning at Draco. "Same as yesterday. How are you doing, Drake?"

"Same as yesterday, old man." He smirked. He examined his chart, jotting down notes on his papers. He moved to the old man, examining his eyes with his wand light. "Same as yesterday. How about you? How about you? How are you doing?"

He had always been kind to his patients. Most of the staff was amazed at his transformation whenever he came close to his patients. One intern even tried to exorcise him after working with him in his office then seeing him with an elderly lady. It was absurd. Of course he would be nice to them. Draco Malfoy was benevolent and giving. Sometimes. Maybe only with his patients. And the occasional child.

"I want to see my Amelia." James said. "I miss her. But those idiotic interns you keep sending in here aren't letting me."

"They're all idiots, I know." Draco sighed, trying to find a way to break the news to James. "Wait, no one's told you yet?"

"They've already briefed me about the amnesia, if that's what you're asking." James chuckled. "I am on unlucky bastard, aren't I? Now, could you please just take me to my wife? She'd love to have me beside her."

"They haven't told you yet." Draco said gravely. "Bloody idiots."

Told me what?" James demanded, demeanor changing, fear clouding his features.

The wizard had been in a burglary accident a two years ago. He was one of Draco's first patients as Department Head. His head had been hit with an unknown curse. After a week, he started showing signs of brain damage, and forgetfulness. After another week, the full effect of the curse surfaced. Since then, couldn't retain new, day-to-day information.

His wife had been with him when they fought off the thieves. The curse used on her had been fatal, and she died just a day after James's amnesia started.

Draco didn't know if it was a blessing, or a curse.

Draco steeled himself, getting ready for one of the most difficult things with being a Healer. Telling the patient the tragic news.

"James..." He began to say, "She's gone."

"Gone?" The old man said, confused. "What do you mean, gone?"

"She died three weeks after you two were admitted here."

"But... I just saw her yesterday!" The old man whispered in horror. There was no kicking and screaming. Today was one of his good days. "She can't be dead. No."

Draco felt his heart twist for him. James was now sobbing on his pillow, an expression of horror clouding his elderly features.

In moments like this, he actually felt lucky that he was given a chance to move on.

He couldn't bear to think of how it would feel if he had to go through the pain of losing Hermione every day. He couldn't bear going through the confusion, disbelief, and the hope that maybe it wasn't true-that she would just barge into the room and tell him that it was an elaborate joke.

"Take me to her."

"I can't she's not here anymore, James." Draco said. "She's been dead for two years."

"No. It's impossible. No. No. No." The old man wailed, sobbing. "She can't be dead! My Amelia can't be dead! No."

"Calm down James, your working your heart out."

"Calm down? You're asking me to calm down!" James shouted at him. "I just learned that my wife's been dead for two years! Two years that I have absolutely no memory of! Two years! Take me to her grave site."

"We can't let you out." Draco protested. This was common with James. Sometimes, he tricked managed to trick the interns, but Draco was never there when he came to this stage. Frankly, the young man didn't know what to do.

Draco was about to call a mediwitch, when James grabbed his arm and whispered, "Do you have a wife?"

"No." He answered gruffly, trying to shake the man's hands off.

"Then you must be in love with someone."

"I... I am." He confessed. Not about her. Not today. "She died during the war."

"Then you must know how I feel, son." James pleaded. "What if you were in my shoes? Wouldn't you want to see what's become of her too?"

He nodded, and he called the mediwitch and arranged for her to transport James to Amelia's gravesite.

"Thank you."

"You use that line a lot, don't you?"

"What line?" James said, "I don't remember anything from the past two years."

Draco sighed, knowing that what he said was true.

Thirty minutes later, they were standing in front of Amelia's grave site.

"She would've liked this spot, you know." The old man said, smiling at his surroundings.

"How did you do it?" Draco asked out of the blue.

"Do what?"

"Move on so quickly?" Draco muttered quietly, bowing his head. "It hasn't even been a day and you're already at peace with the thought of losing her."

"I'm old, son." The old man answered. "We've had years together, and I understand that someday, one of us is bound to leave the other. I'm just glad that she isn't the one experiencing the pain of losing me. You said you've loved before, you know that you'd do anything to make the other person happy, to take away their pain. I'm at peace, son. But that doesn't mean that I'm not in pain."

Draco nodded silently, feeling jealous at James's contentment. Maybe if he had more time with Hermione, then he wouldn't feel like crap everyday.

"Tell me about her." The old man said, sitting down on the grass and patting down on the spot next to him. Draco was reluctant to soil his immaculate healer's robes, but he sat down nonetheless.

"I hated her for the first six years that we knew each other." Draco sighed. "My... My family had been blood suprematists and they drilled every core pureblood virtue in my head. It blinded me to her. Blinded me of her."

He sighed again, feeling an onslaught of regret. "But everything changed on our seventh year. I had always been fascinated by her, but then I began to notice her, positively. She was so good on the surface, but she was remarkable once you got to know her. She was kind, forgiving, strong, caring, every positive word that you could find in a dictionary. Those were the traits that made me like her. The traits that made me love her were her flaws. She had dozens of them, but I loved every single one. She was stubborn. Her temper rivaled mine. She was a thousand different positive and negative things, and I would never want that to change. I loved her just as she was."

"I was an incorrigible little git, as she always like to articulate." Draco chuckled. And he heard James laugh beside him. "Imagine my surprise when she started noticing me back. She was beautiful, but it was a beauty that crept up on you, just as she did. I was hating her one minute, and the next, I found that I'd die for her. It was disorienting, but it also made me deliriously happy. There she was, unreachable, unthinkable, pure, immaculate, bright. And there I was, broken, stressed to the point of insanity, an asshole, a jerk, a douchebag. And yet she gave me a chance. She pried open my heart and lodged herself there. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get rid of her. Eventually, I accepted the whole situation and there we were. We weren't just Draco and Hermione, two sworn rivals. We were Draco and Hermione, kids who were so deeply in love, it was a wonder no one found out until we were ready to tell them."

"Hermione?" James asked. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yeah." He answered. "I'm in love with Hermione Granger. If you told me that I'd love her this much eight years go, I would have gotten my father to send you to an asylum. But now, there is absolutely no denying the fact that I am in love with her, and I'll probably continue to do so until I'm as old and shriveled up as you, old man."

James chuckled. "And when she died, I shattered. She was the only thing that tethered me to the world. I think I went insane for a while, and I decided that she would kick my arse for being such a pathetic sod. She was amazing like that, and I love her for it. I love her, and that will always be a truth in my universe. Even though she's dead. Even though I'll never get to see her anymore. Even though she's gone. I'll continue to be hers."

Draco gave James one of his rare smiles, saying, "Tell me about Amelia."

"She and I met on a saturday." James smiled. "She was wearing a silky yellow dress, with her raven hair curled around her face, and her blue eyes sparkling-and boy did they sparkle- with happiness. She was like an angel, and right then and there, I swear I fell in love with her. Her parents just moved in town and apparently, our parents were the best of friends. They took me to meet her. She was seven and I was nine. As young as that, I knew that she was the one that I wanted by my side, if she would have me. And I could tell that she did. She looked at the same way that I looked at her, like we were each other's stars."

"Back then, we were living in a little town north of London. It was small, quaint, and everyone knew each other. I had been horrible to her during those first few years, showing her my affection in the only way a nine-year-old new how; by bullying her. I teased her relentlessly, just to get her attention. I bet she hated me during those years. But everything changed during the summer before I went to Hogwarts, when she dared me to kiss her. And I actually tried. I was eleven then, I think. Seeing her run away from me made me realize that I didn't want her to. That I would never want her to. So I started to avoid her, ignoring her mostly, but when we did talk, I was civil to her. I left for Hogwarts, and didn't get to see her again after I graduated, since she and her parents moved to France. I was eighteen and she was sixteen when we finally got to meet again. They had just moved back, and boy, she was as beautiful as the first day that we met. And I knew that someone as special as her would be taken soon. So I cleaned up my act and started wooing her."

"Our dads used to joke about us falling in love when we grew up, but they never believed that we'd really fall in love. Her father even threatened me with a bludgeon if I ever hurt her. That summer, we had the time of our lives, and when it was about to end, she told me that she had to go back to France. She was studying at Beauxbatons then, and I was scared that she'd be snatched up by some French idiot. It was our first fight. I didn't want her to go back to France without me, and she refused to let me even visit. It was frustrating. There were some shouting. Slamming doors. She even broke a figurine or two. You'd think, from all the drama and noise, that we were already married, not just kids who had been together for less than a summer. She kicked me out of the house and I flashed back to the time when I was eleven. Her walking away. Her running away from me. I couldn't stand it. So I stayed. Slept outside her door. It was stupid, but I loved her, so I didn't care. I think I convinced her that I wasn't messing with her after that night. Years later, we were still together. It was a bumpy experience, but all that mattered was us, you know?"

"After her graduation at muggle university, I proposed. Our wedding was big, everyone was there. And even then, she was beautiful. She was breath taking. And she was mine. As I am hers. My Amelia."

"You're lucky to have had a life with her," Draco whispered, closing his eyes and imaging having a chance with that kind of life with Hermione.

"I am." James smiled. But Draco, you still do, you know."

"I refuse to find another." Draco said adamantly.

"No, that isn't what I meant," James explained softly. "I'm guessing that you found the forever kind of love with Ms. Granger. Just like I did with my Amelia... And that kind of love doesn't disappear, it's the kind of love that you never give up on, young man, there's a reason why you call it forever."

"She's dead. There's no forever if one of you is dead." Draco said, steuggling to keep his emptions at bay.

"She's not dead, as long as you remember her, she'll never die. She's still right there." James pointed to his heart. "And very much alive right there." The old man then pointed to his head.

"She won't ever die if you keep her there. And if she'll never die, you can live your life with her. You can live your life with her there forever."

A/n: can anyone guess the song I used for inspiration with James's story? I think that it's pretty obvious ;))

review! :)