The Two Musicians
Chapter 11: Broken Glass
By Silver Chessboards
Morning dawned bright and Draco awoke, feeling better than he had in a week and a half. He planned to tell Hermione that he reciprocated her feelings for him when he got the chance. He had two lessons with her that day, double Potions and Charms. Breakfast came and went and so did his first two lessons. Time seemed to go by slowly when one was anticipating for something to happen. He passed her twice in the hallways and each time he sent her a grin that made her blush. It was a good day and nothing could possibly go wrong.
One o' clock soon came and with it, Potions class. He was five minutes early and took his usual seat in the second row, beside Theo. It was a surprisingly warm afternoon and he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and tossed his outer robes over his chair. Slughorn entered the room at two minutes past one with a jolly smile.
"Now, can anybody tell me the uses and properties of Valerian?" he begun in his loud voice, scanning the room for any volunteers. A hand shot up and Draco smirked.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Valerian has sedative and antispasmodic properties and is used in the Draught of Living Death, the Draught of Peace, the Forgetfulness potion and muggle nerve and sleep remedies," she said.
"Very good, Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor," Slughorn beamed at her before turning to address the class.
"Turn to page one-hundred-and-ninety-six please, today we shall be brewing a very advanced and concentrated version of a Forgetfulness potion. This is different from what you brewed in your first year so be very careful."
Draco immediately set to heating his cauldron and measuring his ingredients. There was a collective noise around the room as other students did the same. He watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye, noticing how lovely she looked that day. Her long hair had been tied up and her sleeves rolled to her elbows. She carefully chopped her roots, having no idea that she was being watched by a pair of grey eyes. A small dimple formed at the side of her mouth as she allowed
herself a quick smile after finishing chopping her roots.
He tore his gaze away to see that he had accidentally cut his finger with his knife. He cursed and pressed the bleeding cut to the hem of his shirt. Blood stained the fabric and he decided that it'd be a good idea to admire his lover later on.
Hermione stirred her cauldron seven times anti clockwise with her wooden spoon, watching as the potion thickened considerably. She lowered the heat of the fire and sat back down, leaving the potion to simmer until it changed colour. She had stayed up late last night studying and lack of sleep had certainly taken it's toll on her, she felt absolutely knackered.
Her eyes lazily drifted over the room, landing on Draco. He was carefully cutting up his ingredients, eyes trained on his chopping board. She watched the graceful and fluid movements of his hands as he repeatedly brought his knife down. His fingers were long and delicate, perfect for playing the piano. His eyes moved and found hers, almost as if he had felt her gaze on him.
He smiled at her and she managed a weak smile in return, feeling her cheeks flush. She averted her eyes to glance at the clock on the wall. Her potion had finished simmering and she had to get started on the second half. She reached for the bottle of Lethe river water and propped it on the edge of the cauldron to pour a few drops into the cauldron.
"Hermione, could you—"
The sudden voice broke her concentration and almost all the contents of the vial ended up in her cauldron. She barely had time to register what had happened before darkness overcame her.
A loud explosive noise made Draco look up from his brewing potion. Smoke had spread quickly, obscuring his view. He made his way to the door, trying hard not to inhale the polluted air. Slughorn shouted something incoherent to a student and he caught the words 'hospital wing' and 'injured'. Clear air came rushing back into his lungs when he slipped out of the classroom, coughing and spluttering. Smoke was seeping out of the crack underneath the door, creeping its way around their feet. Dean Thomas emerged from the classroom carrying an unconscious Hermione with Slughorn behind him. His blood ran cold when he saw her limp form. She was covered in what must have been her forgetfulness potion and there was no knowing how much she had ingested.
She was quickly carried away by Thomas whilst Slughorn dismissed the students. The news spread through Hogwarts like wildfire that evening and although he desperately wanted to see Hermione, questions would be roused if he was seen visiting her. And so he waited for dinner to come when everyone else would be all gathered in the Great Hall. Time went by slowly but when seven o' clock came, he abandoned his Transfiguration essay and left the Dungeons.
Draco ran up several flights of stairs, passing by countless bemused portraits. He encountered no one on the way to the hospital wing. When he arrived, he was out of breath from his strenuous run. He slipped into the hospital wing, noting that there were hardly any patients and only three beds had their drapes tightly shut around them. Madam Pomfrey was most likely in the Great Hall with the other teachers, Draco thought as he approached the nearest bed that had a patient. He peered in through the curtain chink and slipped in when he realised that it was Hermione's bed.
Only, she wasn't alone. Potter was there, on the other side of Hermione's bed, eying him warily but without disdain. He nodded curtly at the dark haired boy and took a seat in the stiff chair beside the hospital bed. Weasley had most likely gone down to dinner, Draco swore that boy couldn't think of anything else other than his stomach sometimes. Potter visibly relaxed when he realised that Draco wasn't planning to do anything malicious and lay back in his chair.
"How is she?" Draco asked quietly, his eyes trained on Hermione. She was asleep, unaware of what was going on around her. There were bruises and cuts scattered across her pale skin and she had suffered from a rather nasty burn on her right arm which had been carefully bandaged. He took her hand in his; it felt so cold against the warmth of his skin.
"Not doing very well," Potter replied with a frown. "She woke up a few hours ago and Madam Pomfrey tested her memory with a spell. Apparently, she has forgotten the whole of seventh year."
It felt like someone had dug his heart out of his chest with a knife. He stared at him in shock, at a lost for words.
"You love her don't you?" the boy who lived said softly, with genuine sadness in his eyes. He tried to say something but his mouth had turned to sawdust. He nodded weakly, his eyes trained on the lady he loved.
"I'm sorry."
"It's nothing," Draco said harshly, finding his voice again. He didn't want pity, he didn't think he could handle it.
She had forgotten.
His eyes traced her features, moving over the delicate angles of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose to her long eyelashes and pale lips. He would always love her, even if she didn't love him back.
"The affects of the Forgetfulness potion aren't permanent," Potter said abruptly, breaking the silence. Draco nodded, finding it slightly easier to breathe, she would remember eventually but he didn't know how long he could wait. It would take perhaps a few months judging from the hefty amount of potion she ingested.
He heard the swishing noise of the curtain being pulled open and an obnoxiously loud voice broke the silence.
"I'm sorry I'm late—Malfoy?" there was disbelief in the Weasley's voice and Draco did not fail to notice the look of disgust he received from the redhead. His blue eyes found Potter's and he stared at him as if he had grown another head.
"What is he doing here?" Weasley spat.
"Look, Ron, sit down and—"
"I don't want to sit down, I want to know why that snake is doing here!" Weasley shouted, turning red.
"Ron—"
"If you really must know, Weasley, I happen to be her boyfriend."
"Wha—I'm not stupid Malfoy, Hermione would never—"
"Ron," Potter interrupted with a glare and stood, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder.
"This is a joke, isn't it?" the redhead said abruptly and started to laugh. "You're pulling my leg! I can't believe you'd team up with Malfoy to—" his laughter died away when he saw that Harry wasn't laughing with him, but frowning grimly.
"What? Are you telling me that—"
"Malfoy's telling the truth Ron...I just wish she'd told you sooner," Potter said softly, trying to console the stricken boy.
"I-I don't understand," Weasley spluttered. " I thought she hated him, how—"
"We all hated him, but Hermione says he's changed and I believe her."
"But—"
"Ron, stop for a moment and think," Potter said, grabbing the the redhead's shoulders and forcing him to meet his gaze. "These past few months ever since you left Hermione, have you ever seen her so happy?"
Weasley faltered and avoided his friend's gaze, staring at his feet. He mumbled something that went unheard and Potter asked him to repeat it.
"Well, no," he admitted reluctantly.
"Ron, tell me the truth, are you willing to give Hermione that happiness?"
"Yes, I'd do anything but—"
"Then let her be," Potter said softly. "Malfoy makes her happy and he loves her, that's the only thing that matters. He gives her what she deserves and she'd been through a lot."
Weasley flinched at the pointed look Potter gave him at his last words. He cast his eyes down, unable to meet his friend's piercing gaze.
"Alright," he sighed and lifted his eyes to meet Draco's. The redhead seemed to have accepted it all, albeit reluctantly. "I still don't like you and you'll get my respect only when I see that you've earned it."
"Likewise," Draco nodded.
"And if you treat Hermione—"
"Yes, I know," the blond cut him off. Weasley glared at him.
"Malfoy, we'll be leaving now," Potter glanced at the clock on the wall and exited with Weasley behind him. Draco watched as they left, silently thanking Merlin that that was all over. He looked to Hermione who, surprisingly, hadn't awoken throughout the entire exchange.
He eventually dozed off in the hospital chair and woke up the next morning with an uncomfortably stiff back. He rubbed his cheek consciously, there was a sleep mark and he had no doubt that it was red. He looked at his Hermione, still asleep. Her hand was pleasantly warm in his, he noted. He smiled fondly at her, he loved her. Very much so.
"I love you," he whispered to her, tracing whimsical patterns on her back of her hand with his thumb.
At that moment, her eyes fluttered open.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?"
She said his name with blatant dislike and immediately snatched her hand out of his grasp.
It was more painful than he had expected.
He tried to speak, to tell her that she was wrong, to tell her that she loved him but nothing came out. He felt crushed, she had forgotten about him and the bond they had shared. It was nothing to her now. He was nothing to her.
And without sparing her another glance, he stood and left. His bones felt like lead and his mind half registered that he had made his way to the dungeons and into the common room. He sat down in his favourite armchair and stared at the flickering flames which brought him no warmth. It felt terrible, he thought. To know that the one you loved had forgotten. To know that they didn't love you back. He vaguely registered the fact that Blaise was saying something to him.
"Firewhiskey," he managed to croak out softly.
Blaise paused and looked at him sharply before nodding. The evening past by quickly, drowned in burning amber liquid. He said nothing but drank in silence, the only sounds that broke the silence were the crackling of the fire and the sloshing of alcohol into a glass. Blaise only spoke once throughout the whole evening.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.
"No," came the flat reply from the blond before the downed another glass of Firewhiskey. He wanted to forget. He didn't want to live in a world where his lover didn't remember him.
When the grandfather clock rang out twelve times, the fire died out and the common room was submerged in darkness. For the first time since he was a child, Draco Malfoy cried. His sobs echoed in the silence of the night. The pain in his chest hurt too much to bear. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks in small rivulets and his grip on the glass loosened. It slipped from his grasp and shattered into a million pieces at his feet.
Like his heart.
The encounter with Malfoy had Hermione's head spinning with questions. He'd looked genuinely hurt when she asked him his reason for being there and had departed soon after, leaving her in a state of confusion and doubt. Why had he held her hand and what reason did he have to look hurt? He hated her, didn't he? She frowned.
What made everything worst was that she could not remember anything of the last few months. She hated not knowing. She had awoken hours earlier before the incident with Malfoy with her right arm and shoulder covered in angry red burns and a large portion of her memory wiped. She honestly could not remember anything of seventh year no matter how hard she tried grasping at the small fragments of memories in her mind that she could not piece together.
Nothing made sense anymore.
After her discharge from the hospital wing, she had returned to her dorms with the intent of reading (or rereading) her books for seventh year. She had worked her way through five thick volumes already and they had all seemed vaguely familiar, like she had already memorised it before which she had no doubt that she had. She closed her eyes, searching her mind for something she could remember of the last few months. Anything.
She could remember brief flashes of...music sheets, a large room with a piano and...the lake? It was all very strange to her and she decided to visit the library, intent on finding books to help her with her memory loss. She found a few volumes on the subject and stayed up late reading them. The books were very vague on the topic of memory loss, telling the reader more about which potions or spells caused memory loss, things she did not wish to know but she read everything to make sure she wouldn't miss crucial information.
The books did not provide much information on how to regain memory and the little that it did was useless to her. She slammed the last book down on the desk in frustration and fought the urge to scream. She knew that over time she would regain her memories as they had only been temporarily erased but she was never one to sit around and wait for fate to catch up with her. With this thought in mind, she stumbled over to her bed and promptly fell asleep.
Over the next few days, she immersed herself in her books, adamant to relearn everything she had forgotten. She would sometimes catch Ron or Harry shooting her odd looks, as if they were afraid she would collapse any moment. Wherever she went, her peers would whisper about her behind their hands and give her pitying looks, the whole school knew about her memory loss it seemed. It was extremely aggravating and she had already deducted points from all houses and handed out four detentions.
The worst thing was that she hated that she couldn't remember anything that had happened in the past few months. Malfoy kept looking at her and his gaze always made her nervous, but he kept his distance which she was glad for. She didn't know what had happened between them but she knew that it was enough to make him constantly look at her and for him to have been there when she awoke in the hospital wing. It was a warm evening in the Gryffindor common room when she decided to ask questions.
"Harry?"
"Yes, Hermione?" he said, looking up from his homework.
"What happened between Malfoy and I?" she said calmly, shutting her book with a snap and placing it down. She was tired of everything, of not knowing and being treated like she was fragile glass. She hated not knowing.
He cleared his throat, suddenly looking rather nervous, "Why do you ask?"
"He keeps looking at me and he held my hand when I woke up in the hospital wing, I want to know why."
"Well, um...you see, Ron and I have talked about this and we think it's best if—"
"I don't care what you think, I want to know," she said, giving him an exasperated look.
"Malfoy loves you," Harry said bluntly, evidently wanting to get things over with.
"What?" she said in disbelief. Love? With Malfoy? That was ridiculous, she scoffed. "How did that happen?"
Harry proceeded to explain to her of how Ron cheated on her and somehow, a relationship developed between her and Malfoy. In fact, Malfoy seemed to be head over heels for her. She sat there in silence after Harry had finished speaking, shocked at the revelation. She didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe it but one look at Harry told her that he was completely serious.
"He...loves me?" she glanced down at her upturned palm, remembering how it had felt pleasantly warm from his gentle caress in the Hospital Wing.
Draco missed her. He missed everything about her, from her gentle smile to her brown eyes. He watched her from afar, never approaching or speaking to her. She didn't seem to be getting on very well, judging from the whispers and how Potter and Weasley were treating her. It would take her months to remember her love for him, and how ironic it was that the day he decided to tell her of his reciprocated feelings, she forgot.
He returned to the music room some evenings, to fall asleep in his bed later on with sore ink stained hands and melodies playing in his head. Other evenings would be spent by the fire that brought no warmth, with the company of Blaise and sometimes, if he felt particularly miserable, a bottle of Firewhiskey.
Blaise never asked him, but Draco had the feeling that his friend knew everything. It had been a particularly miserable day for him when he settled down on the soft couch with a familiar bottle. He couldn't be bothered with drinking it out of a glass anymore, it tasted better when it came straight from the bottle. Blaise looked at him with a furrow between his brows, as if trying to solve a tough puzzle.
"What is it Blaise?" he asked. Apparently, he wasn't drunk to the point where his words were incoherent.
"Do you still love her?"
"Who?" he snapped, not wanting to broach the subject but at the same time, wanting to tell the Italian everything.
"Draco, a month ago, you were head over heels in love and now you're just desolate," Blaise frowned. Draco opened his mouth to protest but Blaise silenced him, "You may be able to fool everyone else but I've known you since we were children so it's not use denying it."
Draco glared at him halfheartedly before slumping against the green cushions and taking a swig of his alcohol, "I love her."
"You're pathetic," Blaise said, eyeing the bottle of Firewhiskey with disgust.
"She hates me," he said, ignoring Blaise statement. "What am I going to do?"
"What needs to be done."
Later on, when he was in bed he would ponder those words before falling asleep. The only thing he could do was wait and he hoped that the wait would be worth it. He longed to take her into his arms and kiss her silly and to see her lovely smile again. He awoke the next morning with a dreadful hangover and even after drinking a potion to ease his pains, his bad mood did not leave him. He was snappy and irritable throughout breakfast and his first few lessons.
After Transfiguration class, he stood and left the classroom but he did not get far until he was pulled rather forcefully into a hidden alcove behind a tapestry. The hand that had clamped over his wrist was small and petite and he was about to lash out at the person until he realised who it was. Hermione eyed him with a wary gaze and her mouth was set into a firm line. She looked haggard, like she hadn't had enough sleep. He frowned and he said the first thing on his mind without thinking twice.
"Have you been sleeping well? You don't look—"
"Malfoy," she seemed baffled at his words. "I didn't go through the trouble of getting you here for you to comment on my person."
He raised an eyebrow, and his eyes briefly flickered to his wrist, "Well then?"
She looked down at their joined hands and quickly released his wrist, embarrassed. "Can I ask you a question, Malfoy?"
"You just did," he pointed out and she glared at him, putting her hands on her hips.
"What happened between us?" she seemed exasperated, like she had been hunting for the answers for a long time without success. He felt the urge to embrace her and erase all her worries from her mind with whispers of sweet nothings. He wanted to bury his nose in the sweet fragrance of her hair and feel the warmth of her body against his but he refrained, knowing that such actions would frighten her.
"What happened is we fell in love, Hermione," he said gently, his heart tearing up at the look of unsettlement on her face. Right now, she hated him and failed to understand how she ever fell in love with a person like him. It hurt more than he could have thought possible.
"How? I thought our feelings of hate were mutual."
"Things happen and change is inevitable," were the last words he said to her before he passed her his journal and left.
Hermione stared down at the worn black journal she held in her shaking hands. She closed her eyes and slumped against the wall, her legs buckling under her. He was in love with her and once upon a time, Hermione Granger felt the same way. She saw the way he looked at her, with the eyes of a man in love. He was hurting because of her, because she could not remember and she desperately wished she could. She felt helpless. With trembling fingers, she flipped open the cover of the journal and began to read. She flipped through the book, skipping some entries.
September 5th
I stumbled across Granger on the sixth floor yesterday, she was crying and she had somehow managed to injure her foot. I helped her to the hospital wing. I don't know why I did it, I just did. I found out today why she was crying. The news is all over Hogwarts. Apparently, Weasley cheated on her with a girl who had a flowery name, the bastard. I despise cheaters and although I've never harboured any fondness for Granger, I don't think she deserved it.
September 8th
I happened to come across Granger today morning by the lake, I wonder why we keep bumping into each other. She was scribbling away on parchment, her composition. She told me that she plays the violin...
The entry said more but she did not finish reading it, instead frantically leafing through the book. Her eyes darted all over the parchment, skimming over his neat cursive script. They fell in love through their love for music. There were some entries describing her positive traits and from this, she knew that he had harboured feelings early in their relationship. From his words, he had fancied her very much but that eventually grew into love. Her fingers froze when she came to the last few pages of the journal. She carefully read his latest entries, savouring every word.
February 20th
It has been a week and Granger has not spoken or looked at me once. I find her behaviour very confusing, I'm not sure why she's avoiding me. The last time we spoke was last Saturday, in the library. The day had started out fairly well and I remember reading a very amusing book titled The Foolish Knight. She seemed to have a fever that day as she was looking very flushed. Before leaving, she kissed me. I'm not sure what's going on in her pretty little head.
February 23th
I've taken to talking to Blaise, he's not all that bad.
February 25th
We bumped into each other today when I was heading up the astronomy tower and she was going the opposite way. I thought she looked lovely, with her cheeks flushed and her hair windswept. I helped her pick up her books and she thanked me and tried to leave but I stopped her. And then she told me what had been going on in her mind. She needed time, she said, time to think. It was because she had fallen in love with me. I think I will cherish that moment forever. It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under my feet when she said that. Words cannot do justice to how I felt in that moment, my heart had never beat so fast before. I kissed her before she left and told her she could take all the time she needed. But I've never been a very patient person.
March 5th
She does occasionally glance at me and when I meet her eyes, she blushes in that very endearing way of hers. At least she isn't completely ignoring me. She loves me, fancy that. Sometimes I stop and wonder, how could she love someone like me? I've never thought someone would ever fall in love with me. I talked to Blaise not too long ago and asked him what was love. His reply made me realise it, I'm in love with Hermione Granger and she doesn't know. I'd like to get up and go tell her now but it's late and she's probably asleep, unless she's up studying. I wouldn't put it past her to do something like that.
March 7th
Granger got into a potions accident yesterday, she's lost her memory of the last few months. We fell in love during those last few months. I don't know how to handle this, she doesn't love me anymore. It hurts so much. I never thought it'd feel this way and I want the pain to stop. I don't think I'll ever forget the way she looked at me when she said my name as if I were the lowest scum on earth. I know she'll eventually remember but I don't know if I can handle her hating me when I love her with my whole being. I love her, I do. And I'll wait for her, although all I want to do is to sweep her into my arms and kiss her. I'm drunk at the moment and I have a pounding headache, Blaise went upstairs to bed not too long ago. There's broken glass on the floor.
She ran her fingers over the last entry, tracing the watermarks scattered across the disrupted ink. She realised that the watermarks were actually tears. Draco Malfoy had cried for her. Another watermark appeared next to her finger and she lifted her fingers to her face to find that she was crying.
Author's Note
"What needs to be done."
I do not own this sentence, it's actually from a good book I recently read, Finnikin of the Rock by Melina Marchetta. I recommend it if you like reading Fantasy.
Mrs Rowling did not provide much information on the Forgetfulness potion so I fiddled with the original recipe and mixed things around for the 'advanced' version it which only appears in this chapter. Harry made it in his first year and I figured that it was unlikely that seventh years would make a potion fit for eleven year olds hence why I changed things.
Also, Happy belated Birthday to Mrs Rowling and Harry James Potter :)
I did not get twenty reviews for the last chapter (as I predicted) but I did get half of that so thank you all the same. A huge thank you to my beta and also to you, who is reading this. Tell me what you thought of this chapter, you opinion matters to me :)
- Silver Chessboards