Author's Note: Happy Birthday Hermione! :D

This chapter picks up right where Chapter 70 leaves off, with Draco backing out of the Pensieve. I know that this may be a tiny bit confusing, but I didn't want to repeat the scene in Draco's room in dual perspectives, but I still wanted to get Draco's reaction on those memories into the story somewhere. So they're placed here. Hope that didn't confuse you. It'll probably make a bit more sense when you start reading. So get reading, you! ;)

Chapter 73

I don't know what to think.

As I siphon the contents of my makeshift Pensieve back into the vial, I struggle to understand.

Aunt Bella hadn't been lying in the dungeons in Dartmoor—that much is certain. I hadn't thought that she was lying, but I'd still doubted that she could ever love someone.

In her youth, she seemed so different. She's still a beautiful woman now, but there's none of that life, none of that light happiness that I saw in Longbottom's recollection of her.

I vaguely wonder if that tattoo is still on his chest—knowing Aunt Bella, she would have found a way to make it irremovable, an ineffable reminder of their past.

I still can't believe that Aunt Bella would willingly enter a relationship with someone who was clearly never intending to get serious with her.

But I've done idiotic things, and Granger is still back with… back with that fucking weasel.

We're a lot more alike than I thought, my aunt and I.

I close my eyes.

The image of a young girl surfaces in my mind. I can still hear her, begging in Russian, almost unintelligibly due to her heavy sobs, for me to spare her life.

I didn't flinch, didn't even blink, as I brought her to the brink of insanity.

At the end, as she neared death, she began to laugh. And I know why. Because she knew that all of the pain I inflicted on her would be doubly repaid to me. That I would be made to suffer worse than she did.

I open my eyes again, unable to look at that laughing face any longer.

It's so much easier when I don't feel. I don't have to feel this immense remorse for what I did, don't have to relive my crimes over and over again.

I completely understand now how easy it is to lose your humanity.

I want to be unfeeling.

I don't want to feel anything when I see Granger's hand holding on to Weasley's. I don't want this crushing weight on my chest.

But I know that if I turn that off… if I really decide to stop feeling, I may never come back. And I don't want to risk it. As much as it pains me to see Granger with that weasel, I can't give up the feelings that I have for her. I'd be losing a part of me. Probably the better part of me.

I don't know how much more of this I can take, though. That young girl's face haunts me. I'll never be rid of her, not while I still feel.

This could be why Voldemort thinks I'm a "truly Dark wizard"—I can choose to be unfeeling. I can numb myself to it all.

With a sigh, I lean back against the headboard and take a moment to compose myself. I just have to have one more conversation with them, and then I'll send them away for a time.

I want to be alone.

Then I wave a hand at Naree to get his attention. "Let them in," I say.

He gets to his feet and pulls the door open.

"Come in, now," he says as he backs away from the doorway to let them in.

The house-elf crosses the bedroom and hops agilely onto the bed that Granger had conjured for Ginny Weasley. I frown at him—there's no way he could have recovered fully in that short period of time. I'll make him a special Blood-Replenishing Potion later.

Then Blaise enters the room, followed shortly by Potter, Weasley and Granger.

"Do you know who it is, then?" Potter asks me.

As soon as Potter Disapparates, I let out a sigh of relief.

Alone at last.

I glance over and see that Naree is sitting on the bed, looking down at his hands.

"Naree, are you all right?" I ask.

He turns his head toward me slowly, and his eyes seem slightly unfocused. "Naree does not feel well, Master. Perhaps it would be better if Naree rested?"

"Yes. Sleep if you can. I'll make—"

"Master should not serve—"

"Don't argue with me," I say. "You've nursed me back to health so many times. Making you a potion is the least I could do in return."

"M—Master should not treat Naree as an equal."

I smirk. "Are you trying to tell me what to do?"

His face blanches, and I realize that that was the wrong thing to say.

"Sorry. I was joking," I say.

I start to get to my feet and wince as my extremely sore muscles begin to protest. But Aunt Bella was merciful this time—I can tell that I would have had it much worse if she'd really wanted to hurt me.

I cross the room to Naree's bed and gently press his shoulders to get him to lie down.

"Just stay here," I tell him. "Try to sleep."

The house-elf gives me a tearful smile. "Thank you, Master."

I return a smile before turning around and exiting the room. I pull the door shut behind me and then go into the kitchen.

Although elves still bleed red, their blood contains different, more magical properties than human blood. Naturally, then, a Blood-Replenishing Potion must be altered if it's to treat a house-elf. Though Naree isn't in any mortal danger, taking a draught of the potion will help with his recovery. And I owe him—he's done so much for me.

I open the cabinet that contains most of my ingredients and select the containers that I need, placing them up on the counter. Then I look at the selection before me. Something that was once in here is now missing. I observe the cupboard carefully, mentally taking stock of its contents, and realize that the rose thorns are missing.

Frowning, I Summon a small cauldron, fill it to about halfway with water, and light a fire beneath it.

As I wait for the water to boil, I turn around and cast a glance at the upper cabinets. They're usually filled with already-completed potions—there's no reason why any raw ingredients would be placed there. I Summon my jar of rose thorns, and it flies out of the cupboard directly across from me.

I catch the jar and turn to set it down on the counter behind me, but then a scent that wasn't there before catches my attention, and I spin back around.

The cupboard from which the rose thorns had come is still open, and I smell… apples?

I slowly move toward the cupboard, and as I get closer, I start to notice distinct smells. A broomstick presents itself to my mind. And… aw, hell. I'd recognize this subtle fragrance anywhere—Hermione's hair.

Fuck.

Amortentia is the strongest Love Potion out there, but its most impressive aspect is that the victim is completely unaware and cannot be convinced that he or she is under the effect of a potion. Lesser potions only generate lust and obsession or cause extremely uncharacteristic behavior, allowing people to easily spot that something's wrong.

And the victim can typically become aware that he or she is being affected by a potion.

Even for Ronald Weasley, this is low. It's sick.

But judging from the relatively mild extent of Granger's attachment to Weasley, he must not have brewed the potion to perfection.

I flick my wand. "Accio Amortentia."

As expected, the spell has no effect. Therefore, Weasley's potion wasn't successful enough to be called Amortentia. But it was effective enough to hold Granger.

I remember toying with the idea of a Love Potion back at Hogwarts, but on some level, I knew that I could never actually bring myself to do that to her. It's comforting to know that Granger is out of her mind right now, but I still can't bear to think about what Weasley could have done to her in all this time.

Then I wonder if he's had her before.

The old me would probably be boiling with fury and jealousy, but I only feel a shade of what I would have felt.

I must still be a little numb.

It's probably a good thing. I won't admit this to anyone, ever, but I know that Russia should have affected me much more than it did. And now, I've lost Mother…

It's a horrible thing to think, but I wish that she hadn't gotten in the way, that Aunt Bella had killed Father instead, like she'd meant to. I'd much rather lose Father than Mother.

The image of her eyes, wide open and unseeing, fills my mind, and I close my eyes for a moment, fighting tears. She's dead because she came to save me. I'm indirectly responsible for her death. My own mother…

I shake away the thoughts and lock them down. I can't be so weak, not right now.

I move to the cupboard and pull out a Love Potion Antidote—I have almost every potion possible in stock, but I've never really needed this. I made it once just to refresh my skills in potion-making, and I should check to make sure that it's still effective.

Just as I set the vial on the counter, the kitchen door swings open, and the culprit steps inside.

"Hello, Weasley," I say.

He frowns at me and closes the door behind him. "What are you doing in here, Malfoy?"

"It's my kitchen. I don't have to explain myself to you. But since I'm in such a sharing mood today, I'll show you. Do you know what this is?"

I hold up the bottle.

He takes a few steps toward me to get a closer look and then shakes his head. What a twit. How can he brew a potion and not learn how to recognize the antidote?

I smirk. "It's a Love Potion Antidote."

His eyes widen, and then he glares at me. "Why would you need that?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm not the one who needs it, but I'm sure you knew that already," I reply.

He draws his wand, but I'm prepared for him—as soon as he grips the handle, I Disarm him. He backs away toward the door, but I point a finger at him and bark, "Incarcerous!"

Ropes materialize out of thin air and tightly wind around the weasel. He loses his balance and topples to the ground.

"Hermione!" he calls out.

"Right, because asking her to come here will do so much good for you," I say sarcastically, drawing my wand.

I levitate him away from the door and move him to the opposite end of the kitchen, pinning him to the wall. Then I feel a sharp sting between my shoulder blades and glance back to see that Granger is standing in the doorway, her wand pointed at me.

"Let him go," she says.

Aw, bloody hell. That was clearly just a warning.

I make sure that the spell holding Weasley in place is nice and secure before turning to fully face her. "You don't want to fight me, Granger," I say carefully.

"If you don't let him go right now, I won't have a choice."

Author's Note: Oh, I'd forgotten that I left the chapter at this point. That's kind of a mean cliffhanger, isn't it? I'll try to update soon, but I don't think it'll be another rapid-fire update like the past few have been. I was really flaky this weekend as far as schoolwork goes, so I'm going to have to pick things up the coming week. Aaaah, midterm tomorrow! x.x