Author's Note: To anyone who has supported me since I first posted my first fanfiction Head Versus Heart way back in 2010, I thank you. I have not posted in years because I was suffering in an abusive relationship and I have had absolutely no drive or inspiration to write anything. The first few chapters of this fic are the best things I feel I have written, because at the time I had an actual plot that could end. I haven't ever been able to finish what I started as anyone who follows my stories will know. But I really want to this time. If you're listening and reading, thank you so much. I love you xox
~ Trust-Building Exercises~
Seven loud knocks on her door at 11 pm made Hermione terrified, knowing exactly who was behind it.
Sliding out her chair, she sprinted from the kitchen - she had been reading Healing: An Advanced Compilation of Modern Theories 1860-1925 by Mungo Bonham. Unlatching the door, it swung open to reveal Draco, the darkest in demeanour she had ever seen.
"What are you playing at, Granger? What the fuck did you think you were doing last night? You agreed to stay put, and instead came SPYING on me!"
Barrelling past her, not even bothering to onceover her home in Surbiton, he noticed the liquor cabinet gleaming by her living room sofa from the foot of her porch. Grabbed that goblin-made Firewhiskey, 90 proof, like it was the elixir of life.
"Get off that! That was a gift from the Minister of Magic! Hey!" She stomped over to him ready to pounce when the more pressing realization overwhelmed her. "How do you know where I live?" she finished off in a whisper, as her stomach turned inside out.
Growling, Draco slammed the bottle down, and instead reached for a cheap spirit that he knew to only cost two galleons, sucking the liquid as fast as possible to feel warm hands wrapping around his as they wrenched the stolen liquor from him. Eyes burning, he saw something more in hers than just judgement.
"How do you know. Where. I. LIVE!"
She could hear his back teeth grinding, absolute rage radiating from his very skin. Breaths coming out in shatters through his nose, it had been almost 24 hours since she had gone and left the Spiny Serpent. Cheeks blushing pink, he clearly had new information that could spiral her into the ground they stood on.
And when he was still glowering after a painful minute, Hermione had to ask aloud what she already knew was coming: "Draco, what happened?"
A sigh.
"Whiskey. Now." And after a pregnant pause, he rolled his eyes. "Please. Then we'll talk."
The creak of the chair seemed to rock the entire house as he stepped to the table and placed himself down. And the silence after he settled was deafening as she fetched him a glass, pouring it neat full of something a bit finer than the brand Ron had left behind at her housewarming. She sat directly next to him, mere inches, feeling the warmth of his body; this important moment needed every tiny physical interaction examined.
Draco felt, in this moment, that again, his usual barrier was impossible to put up.
After Hermione left, Salvatore had taken him, at 3 am, to Theodore Nott's house.
Draco was shown maps; all of them much like the infamous Marauders that had he remembered being outlined in Harry Potter's biography by Rita Skeeter. Somehow she has skyrocketed into even more infamy since the war. There was a map of London: The Leaky Cauldron; Diagon Alley; Knightsbridge, where many wizards lived that worked at the Ministry. There were maps of other locations: Ottery St. Catchpole; St. Mungo's; even Hogwarts.
Names littered each page, footsteps moving up and about streets and alleys, or not at all, sleeping in their beds. Enjoying the supposed privacy of their own homes. But not every wizard or witch was on it, it was only people Salvatore deemed relevant or important.
Draco relayed this to Hermione, whose face went paler and paler at every spoken word.
"He has everyone tracked, Granger. The one saving grace is that it's not as if he carries these maps everywhere, when activated they all combine to create one giant parchment. But it's the size of a fucking tapestry. That's how I know where you live. That's why I am here now. He pointed you out to me so I knew. We have no idea what we're up against."
He let the heavy weight settle inside of her, not expecting an immediate retort at the ready.
"Yes, but this means that my plan worked. He was convinced that I love you."
At 'I love you,' Draco squirmed, exhaling very deeply.
"No, I don't think that he does. He definitely thinks you're 'infatuated'. And he definitely thinks less of your intelligence for hanging around me, knowing who I am and what I've done. He certainly intends to exploit this."
"Meaning?"
"You are a very well-respected witch, you are in magical law enforcement. Nobody likes me. Only some tolerate. Did you know that the only reason I was able to get into that knobhead Arran's party is because I begged Rhys? Promised to give him a dose of Felix Felicis? Salvatore knows that."
Alcohol on his breath, Hermione wondered if booze made him more honest with himself, or if he was always this self deprecating and good at hiding it.
"Draco, even if that's the case, it doesn't matter. Of course he wants to exploit me, and that was the goal regardless of how believable our fake relationship is. That's why I made an appearance last night. I am sorry, but I need to have some say in this."
"AH, you don't get it!" Shaking like a leaf, he tried not to notice the way she flinched at his rising octave. "Granger, this angle you've created where you love me is just – it's so dangerous."
"Do you think I can't play the part? Do you think that I haven't already sussed out the fact that I am likely going to lose all my friends for the time being and be interrogated relentlessly?"
Gazing at her, eyes suddenly full of pain, and the indignation she felt was slowly ebbing away. This was not about her.
"Listen: Salvatore explained to me how he's been using the maps to keep watch of all the people he has in his emploi. How he has used it in the past to corner his targets and ensure that all his schemes are going to plan in real time when they are at their most crucial or dire. That's how he found that head healer, Ford Robertson. That's why Ramona knew exactly where he was – a banquet – and changed her face around to disguise as a server that dropped a drink. He being a kind man, helped her pick it up and bring it to the kitchens. Alone, she rewarded him with the Amortentia, which had been leaked into champagne, and from there she was able to lure him away from everyone. Now, he wants me to 'find' Ford. He intends to modify Ford's memory to believe that I saw him wandering outside my families' estate in Wiltshire, and that he had fallen down a mountain near the estate. Looking for some rare herb likely only a few people have heard about. No broken bones, but he had amnesia. Was wandering for long time; that I took him in, as he was barely alive, and took care of him until he was ready to go to the Ministry and remember who he was. And then – THEN," he yelled hysterically, "I'm meant to use obliviate on my own parents! So that they testify publicly this is all true. My parents, for fuck's sake Granger! I can't bloody do this."
"What?"
He saw her mind racing, the look she got when she was dissecting essay questions or instructions, a look he remembered seeing when Slughorn had explained to the class why his Wolfsbane potion, not hers, was perfect in their seventh year together.
Hermione went cold, flashbacks to the fateful day five years ago when she isolated herself from her own family, wondering if he knew that she had to do that very same thing.
"Don't you understand? He wants me to eventually have the ability to curse you too! I know it. We can't drug you with potions to get the information you might be able to access at the ministry. But if I could actually get you to fall in love with me... whole other quidditch pitch. Who knows what he'll want me to do? Who knows what might happen to us? He doesn't want to involve you in any way that would let you know he's a criminal. I told him you didn't know I was dealing on the side. For all you know, he could've been Nott's uncle that I was hanging out with when you came to the bar yesterday. That's what he decided to play as, because Nott is with him constantly. He wants me to have my redeeming moment in the spotlight, get Ford to recommend me for a job at St. Mungo's so instead of having someone tend to extremely rare ingredients, potentially found out, I am at the source. I have access, and I can brew. His assistant," he spat.
"B-but how could he possibly have come up with something so – he doesn't think that-" She was at a loss. This was insane.
"He is a genius, Granger. He's... he's…I asked him if the disappearance of Ford Robertson had anything to do with the ingredients I was receiving. He thought I was 'so intelligent' to connect the dots, don't make me laugh. And I saw the flash in those cold eyes, he planted the seeds of this scheme in a second flat. The next two hours were spent by him calling over Ramona to Theo's house, with some thug named Magnus, and we reviewed the idea. Had to take a fucking sleeping draught this morning because not even liquor could knock me out after I got home." And with that he slugged down the rest of his drink.
"Yes, I can see that," she bit. "But why does he need all these potions?"
"Don't know," Draco laughed.
"What?"
"I don't know! He wants to see if his plan can come to fruition before letting me in on more. He can't have trusted me yet, Granger. He needs to test me. Parlaying with you is dangerous for someone like him, but nobody could ever link him to me anyways except you. The public just think he's some aristocrat that inherited his family fortune, but he did this all with Ramona. Theo told me one night while drunk that he used to live in Spinner's End until he started recruiting, you know where Snape grew up? Nobody that lives there owns their own homes, they're all…really poor," he emphasized. "This man is street smart. A con artist. He has a mansion, but he definitely doesn't live there. He is planning a secret party he has every year, and I just feel my skin crawling with the fact that something is going to happen. Ramona insisted I come. Insisted I bring you, after Ford is 'safe' again. She's evil. She is the wonderful gem that suggested I curse my own parents. Our lives are over, Granger."
For the first time since she had woken up from a one-night stand with Neville, one rowdy night after a Hogsmeade visit, Hermione swore: "Fuck."
Silence followed, a horrible thick void that let thousands of negative possibilities cloud her mind.
"So, what are we going to do?"
They didn't have a chance in hell of ever figuring out where Salvatore actually hid out if they told Harry. Ron, Ginny, everyone would be endangered. But still, just because she hated the Malfoy family doesn't mean that they deserved to be cursed.
And while she contemplated every inconceivable way out of this, when she focused her gaze on Draco again, his cloudy grey eyes were overflowing with tears. Face red with the forceful push he was shoving through his body to stop, daring his mouth to sob.
"I have to do his plan. I have to obliviate my parents. It's the only way he'll – that he'll –"
And the sobs began to wrack his frame as he placed his head in his hands.
"Draco – I"
"Why the fuck did I have to do this again. Why the fuck did I agree to stoop to a low level again, and get myself into trouble? I'll never learn. Just fucking kill me Granger, get yourself out of this situation."
"Draco."
It felt wholly unnatural to grab his hand into hers, but when she did, his grip tightened.
"You didn't do this. Grappling with the darkness is something your father made you do when you were younger, and yes, you're not smart for agreeing to sell illegal potions, but you didn't create a plan that has apparent potential for 'imminent destruction.' You didn't create a prophecy. And you're not alone, we can do this, I don't want to be involved in trouble again but if it wasn't you, it might've been someone else, and it still could've been them involving me. This is why you have to let me help."
Shining wet, Hermione's neck prickled as Draco's face resurfaced from his hand; it burned. He wanted to say something.
"What?" She let go of his hand, unnerved.
"Can – can you teach me how to use that spell? Obliviate." And if his request hadn't shaken her enough, when he said, "I'm sorry," at her fretful reaction was enough to make her body recoil. "I overheard Astoria Greengrass telling her sister about what you had to do with your – your parents. I just – I"
"You don't want anyone else to have the power over them; it has to be you."
Swallowing hard, he nodded.
"And how long do we have?"
"He wants this done in five days."
He was so quiet.
September was the month where everything was starting up again. Events at the Ministry, school being in session, many public things to attend to where Draco could flaunt his new fling. September 1st was in five days.
"Well we better get started then."
{}
It had been four days, ten hours.
Paranoid they'd be watched, Draco had Hermione write down instructions on how Obliviate worked. She had to stay away for the time being.
It was exceedingly complicated, and it only served to make him wonder how the hell Lockhart had ever mastered it, the buffoon.
Despite her moral leanings, the easiest way to practice the charm was on something that could speak, something intelligent. Solution being; talking parrots. Hermione had found hers on the internet five years ago, and she had done the same in this situation, though they'd wasted two days just obtaining her. Luckily Draco was affluent enough to afford an African Gray, the smartest breed. Last time she had to drain her parent's savings.
"Who am I?"
"Draco! You're Draco!" The female bird squawked. He had been asking her, Kali, to repeat this so many times, he was convinced he was going mad.
"Obliviate."
Closing his eyes, he felt the charm vibrate through his wand, concentrating with all his willpower to want Kali to forget him. Blue swirls emanated from the hawthorn and circled around her. When they settled, he asked her again: "Who am I?"
"Draco!"
He was too exhausted to scream, though it was all he desired.
The morning previous Salvatore had dropped by, informing Draco that he had extended an invitation to Lucius and Narcissa personally to his private party and that he hoped to have a dinner with them, with their son of course. Tonight was the night.
Despair filled him, and then another gross emotion he had no business feeling; wishing that Hermione was there. He needed to get this right.
Palm twitching for a pint of something strong, he stalked off to his snack cupboard and instead grabbed chocolate caramels, barely tasting the sweetness as he shook off his nerves, palms constantly twitching, belly full of anxiety. Loss of control was his biggest fear, and it seemed much too late to mourn any realization that he'd likely never had any in the first place. He was a slave to this druglord now, he was a puppet again, an instrument.
"I'm not about to be played like a fucking fiddle."
Once again, he raised his wand. Something felt different. As he chanted "Obliviate" for the umpteenth time, the spell vibrated from his toes up his spine to his temples. He felt the blue leaving the tip, where it did not encircle her, it shot straight into her chest.
Kali stopped her incessant chirps, as if confused.
"Kali, who am I?"
She was examining Draco like she couldn't recognize him. After a few moments, she spread her great wings and shot up, flying into her cage, afraid.
He was ready.
{}
"Draco, son! Why do you seem so sullen? Ford is fine! Enjoy the moment, you will be lauded as a hero come morning."
It has gone disgustingly, perfectly well.
Salvatore had presented himself to the Malfoy elders as Nott's cousin, once removed. Nott, a man married to his job and no woman, had no family left alive, there existed nobody to refute this. With a perfectly brewed healing draught, one Draco had indeed made months earlier, Ford Robertson was alive. Wounds littered his face and arms, a fact Draco daren't ever ask Salvatore how he got them. All he could see from the table he and his parents sat at was the mountain and its forests nearby, the one that a man supposedly for three months had been lost in. If this were true, he had his wand, so he could duplicate food and create fire. A wizard could survive. But for three entire months…
"He's out of wine, Lucius. And so is Salvatore, dear, we must go get some more. Shall I call Delaney?"
Delaney was their housekeeper. One of the first things Hermione had done in her career was help create a policy to ban house elves, and allow them to choose where they wanted to serve and if they wanted to serve. Something Draco both admired and was in awe of, though he'd never say it.
"No…I don't trust the help in the wine cellar. Come help me choose one. Do you prefer a chardonnay? Sauvignon blanc? A Riesling?"
"Surprise me," Salvatore grinned devilishly, to which end they strolled out of the dining hall towards the other end of the manor, gossiping about all the things that might happen in the wake of their son's heroics. Also giving Draco and he a suspicious few moments to speak. He felt his heart constrict at the look his boss gave him.
Ford was fast asleep on a settee in their parlour, still fatigued and not yet able to apparate. "Now Draco, I have not yet finished my charm work on Ford. I am going to finalize everything before you go into the Ministry with him tomorrow. What you must do when you leave here is erase any sort of memory your parents have of me tonight. I am a ghost to them until our soiree. Understood?"
His leader either did not realize or decided it did not matter that he was miserable. As long as he could put on a front for the people that mattered, he was in the clear.
"Understood."
{}
It had taken a total of thirty minutes for the Malfoy family to enter the Ministry of Magic with Ford, for there to be reports swarming them when they left Clarence Hornby's office.
Security had overwhelmed them as they entered, many shocked gasps and audible cries being let out as the employees at the ministry recognized the incredibly high-profile healer. Accusations flew from right and left that they had kidnapped him, and oh how it ached in Draco's bones to cry they were right.
Instead, he let Ford wave his arms in protest, declaring to a forming crowd that Draco Malfoy had nursed him back to health, he had saved his life. Disbelief rumbled through the spectators, and Deputy Hornby of the Magical law Enforcement Patrol had them escorted to his office, trying to smell a rat.
But the regular detection enchantments of any tampering to the body came up dry.
As far as Hornby knew, Draco was a saviour, because as far as Ford knew, Draco was too.
Despite his skepticism, written obviously upon his face, all the questions Hornby had for the family and the top healer were answered with ease. Call upon call and memo upon memo flooded the room as his rotary rang off the hook.
This was nearly national news. Not even Auror's were able to find him. Harry Potter's junior team had no leads, and the head, Serj Azarian couldn't find him after a trail had gone cold with investigation. Ron Weasley, Ford's apprentice, had been filling in overtime all but the potion-making, something he was not certified for. And now Draco stood, while claps of hands and mostly smiling faces shone back at him, flashes of cameras and many questions reiterating these truths overwhelming the group.
"What were you doing in Wiltshire, Mr. Robertson?"
"Draco! Where did you learn to make such a strong healing draught?"
"How did you survive for three months?"
"Draco!"
"Mr. Malfoy!"
"Draco Malfoy!"
Ford was already giving a candid to a top reporter from Rita Skeeter's own tabloid: The Beetle, something he imagined Salvatore put in his head as a good idea.
"I was initially searching for the spores of the incredibly rare thaumatagoria. It is rumoured to only grow on mountains with a slope of exactly 47 degrees. If found, you can use the leaves to make a healing potion so powerful you need only one drop to mend bones, without pain. Of course, I didn't find the plant, and I had hiked up just one level too high…"
He continued on, the people surrounding them hanging onto every lingering syllable. Telling everyone how gracious Draco was, how he had rarely seen such talent in a young man before. Having Lucius chime in that he was top of the class when he returned to Hogwarts after the war. How much he had changed and grown into a personable young man. As if he had actually been at home the past year and not slumming around with the evil that hung around London bars.
Though Draco tried to look modest yet pleased ,blurry people began to focus. Harry Potter, mouth agog at this vulgar display of someone actually loving the Malfoys. Ron Weasley, an apprentice, stood beside him; Draco felt bile coat his mouth. The idiot was in love with Granger and she probably with him. And now they were going to pal around at St. Mungo's together while he was supposed to date her?
Despite everything, Ron had made his way quietly to Ford, who upon recognizing the young man gave him a very large hug. Inches away from him, the Weasley shot him a death glare.
The worst of course, was Hermione. Like they had planned, she knew what time exactly to be present for the event, having to wait until the reporters and all the St. Mungo's staff stepped aside. Waiting for Draco to be showered with praise he did not deserve, of being talked about like he's saved mankind and not simply brewed a potion. Hermione had to congratulate him in clear view of all of them, hoping and praying for a photo to be snapped of her shaking his hand, of some fake lust somewhere in her expression.
They got their wish.
The next morning Draco had an owl addressed to him about working a month-long contract at the hospital, to see if he liked being in a potion-brew setting. Under the tutelage of Ford, he could get a license and purchase these things directly through the hospital. A+ Grade materials.
The Daily Prophet had used a beaming Ford next to the Malfoy parents standing tightly with their son between them. The headline was: "Top Healer Ford Robertson Found; Nursed to Health by Hogwarts Graduate."
The Beetle had what Hermione had wanted and had noticeably more copies taken from the stacks dropped off at the ministry, free of charge: "Ex Death Eater Absolved of Shame by the Golden Trio Goddess." Hermione's handshake was a little too slow, regarding Draco the same way she had done Ron only days previous. Regarding him with attraction.
Phase one was complete. Both plans had worked seamlessly, but only one of the two teams knew what was coming next.