NOTE: I had this written for over a week, but didn't have enough stamina to proofread it. Pushed myself today, though, and here we are.

Here's a kind warning: there are some big reveals abt Draco, in here. But those shouldn't make you panic that he's being let off easy. The last chapter (#12, btw) is a bombshell, and wait for that to go off before y'all begin tossing racial slurs at me again. (:

10: Don't Want Us to Break Down

Hermione knows she should stop struggling against her bonds, physically. There's obviously some spellwork been done on the ties, and trying to get out of them with all the twisting and turning is only going to exhaust her – which would make her chances of escape even more sparse.

She knows all of that, but her reflexes are on an autopilot because of how panicked she feels, and she can't get herself to stop fidgeting in the chair she's bound to.

"Are you quite done, Miss Granger?" drawls Rogers from the other corner of the room, sipping at some amber drink from a glass, as he reclines on a sofa. "Because I would really like to talk to you about why all this is happening, before we get to business."

Hermione hisses in frustration, thumping her head into the back of the chair. "What business? What the hell do you want from me?" she spits out, and finally forces herself to relax and not drain her strength out when she realizes how out of breath she already is.

Ricky Rogers laughs in a pure condescending manner, getting up to walk around the enormous bed in the center of the room. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

What?

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "No, you don't, Hermione. Do you know why? Because you never deemed me worthy of your memory!"

Hermione blinks. Even though she was somewhat clueless about why Rogers and Caterina would make such an elaborate plan to rope Draco in and destroy his reputation, she would never have guessed that any of this would involve her as more than just a bait. But this hatred displayed on Rogers' face makes it evident just how much more involved she actually is.

"Let's go back in time, for a bit, shall we?" he asks her, settling down on the bed, right opposite to the chair she's tied to. "Do you remember your parents' Muggle house? The one you used to live in before getting your Hogwarts letter?"

Hermione nods, slowly, totally unaware of where he is going with this.

"Good. Now. Do you also remember the kids you used to play with, in the park down the street?"

Hermione sucks in a breath, starting to get a picture, now. "You… were one of those kids…"

He smiles at her with an immense amount of loathing. "Oh, yes, I was. I was eight, you were six – I used to have a crush on you."

Hermione swallows, thickly. This is going to get ugly…

"We used to take the swings, together, play catch together – do everything that kids do together when they get along well. I used to love it. I was too young to understand it, but in my head, you were my girlfriend."

Hermione holds back a grimace. Honestly? This would be cute if it didn't come from this man. But because it did, Hermione can only feel creeped out by his younger self that her own younger self probably trusted a lot.

"Well, at least till I turned eleven and received my Hogwarts invitation."

Hermione frowns. "But―"

"I'm a squib? I know, but my family was one of the richest families in Wizarding London. That is why I lived with a Muggle friend of some aunt's, in your neighborhood. My mother―she didn't want me to grow up to become the snob my father would have turned mere into, if he got the chance."

He looks down, at his feet, and frowns. "At least that's what she told me. I think she always knew I didn't have magic… But she still pulled some strings and got a Professor from Hogwarts to take me in. She believed that something was blocking me, and that staying at Hogwarts and learning magic properly would resolve it. But it didn't…"

Hermione is almost holding her breath. Notwithstanding the fact he has kidnapped her, she almost feels sorry for what he has gone through. No wonder he ended up becoming the douchebag he is.

"I was sent back, a year later. Everyone at Hogwarts knew I was a squib. I was laughed at, made fun of, and then expelled… because I wasn't meant to be there."

Hermione looks away when he looks up at her.

"I came back to your neighborhood, enraged for multiple reasons. One of them being why you hadn't responded to any of my letters."

Hermione shuts her eyes, briefly, not being able to understand why she cannot recall anything about such a, supposedly, close friend that she had. He doesn't look like he's lying.

"I didn't talk to you, even when you visited my house, pleading Miss Gemma to let you see me."

She looks up, suddenly, remembering Miss Gemma very clearly. "I do remember Miss Gemma. But…"

"But not me," he slowly finishes, lips twisting in a wry smile. "I forgave you, after some time, though. A week before you received your letter, I told you I loved you. You told me you did, too. We were the cutest couple ever; not even properly teenagers yet, and so in love. But then…"

But then she received the letter and went away. Hermione purses her lips. Even if that had happened, she did visit her parents every year. She went back to that same neighborhood, almost every Christmas, regularly, and even met Miss Gemma, many times.

"You really can't figure it out, can you?" Rogers asks, surprisingly looking hopeless, this time.

She slowly shakes her head, terribly wound up and confused. Not to mention the fierce headache that she's brought up by all the pressure she's put on her mind.

Rogers nods to himself. "Well… you can't recall anything about me, because your memories of me were wiped off."

Hermione jaw drops open. "What? How―did you―"

"I couldn't have, Hermione." He waves a dismissive hand. "Squib, remember?"

She grits her teeth. "Didn't stop you from petrifying and silencing me when I came in. Maybe you had someone erase my memories, too!" She tilts her head towards the door that Caterina stands guarding.

Rogers suddenly seems to get serious, and, shockingly, saddened. "I would never, ever have done it, Hermione. You tell me. Why would I want you to forget that you loved me?"

Now, although she's not too keen about the "love" he's talking about, Hermione agrees with his logic. If he's so torn about her having forgotten about him, it won't make sense if he was the one to do it in the first place.

"You do remember Severus Snape, don't you?"

Hermione gingerly nods, not sure if she wants to hear the next part. But, what choice does she even have?

"He paid you a visit on the 31st of August. And he took you away from me…"

He looks at her forlornly, and Hermione doesn't know what to say. "How… how do you know it was him?" she finally asks. "Why would he do it?"

"My mother wanted it done. She wanted every person in the Wizarding World to forget about my existence, so that the family's reputation was saved from disgrace. My own father doesn't know I exist. I used to have a little brother… he was made to forget about me, too. Only my mother and Snape knew… and now even he's gone."

Hermione can at least understand the pounding in her head, now. She'd been trying to recall an Obliviated memory – one that an expert like Snape had erased.

"What sort of mother would do that," she mumbles, not meaning to say it aloud, but doesn't take it back when Rogers scoffs.

"Someone that cares about her prestige more than her own family. Someone like Narcissa Malfoy."

Hermione's head snaps back, a loud gasp leaving her mouth. No. No, no, no.

Oh God, no!

"Narcissa… Malfoy…" she breathes out, wide eyes looking at Rogers' defeated face. "Draco's mother?"

Rogers flashes her a tight smile. "That would be her."

"You're… Draco's older… brother?"

"His disowned brother, but yes."

He falls silent then, and she is immensely grateful. What the hell is all this?!

Lucius and Narcissa had a son before Draco, who Narcissa found out to be non-magical, and hence she sent away.

Wait. When he said "aunt's Muggle friend," did he mean for Miss Gemma to be Andromeda Tonks' friend? Probably.

Hermione exhales in disbelief. She knew the Malfoy family used to be way too assiduous about the purity of magical blood―oh she experienced it firsthand, worse than anybody else―but this reveal has just taken it to another level.

She looks up at Rogers, lips pursed. "I'm really, really sorry about all this, Ricky." She stops. "If… that is your original name."

He shakes his head. "It is, now. I don't want anything to do with that family. And I don't want the name they gave me, either."

Hermione nods, feeling more relaxed, now that she knows that this kidnapping is, after all, about the Malfoys. She eases in her seat. "Why did you kidnap me, Ricky? Why make this elaborate plan to take down Draco Malfoy, when you know he doesn't even have feelings for me, anymore?"

"He has feelings for you, alright." Hermione swallows, trying but failing to stop her brain from conjuring up a picture from the night she'd seen him half naked with Caterina. "What you saw that night, was the result of Caterina's manipulative words… and a sample of a pain numbing Potion that his company has been working on. It wasn't perfect, and the side effects included heightened emotions and feelings. The heartbreak you gave him by your chat with Ginny Weasley was felt by him tenfold."

Hermione stares wide-eyed. Draco was tricked? She doesn't feel that sympathetic about this estranged Malfoy, anymore.

"What's more, I and Caterina had been feeding my younger brother a little amount of the Potion, for a week. Poor guy, no one around him even suspected that he was being weird, because everyone pinned it on his nervousness about the proposal." He stops, shaking his head in what seems like mock sympathy to her. "But, anyways. He isn't why you're here. You're here, because you're you, Hermione."

Hermione can feel her throat closing up. So this is about her? "What are you going to do, now?"

Rogers flashes her a crooked smile. "Now, I'm going to try and retrieve your memories of me. And because I can't do it magically," he says before pausing to extract a small briefcase from beneath the bed, "I'm going to need assistance from these Potions… and a little physical force, if need be."

Hermione draws in a breath. She is going to concentrate on her magical core and get the hell out of her bonds. This man has lost his mind, and she has no idea what she's going to end up being turned into, if he gets things done his way.

Draco knocked at the door, looking at the plaque with envy. Okay, he might have managed to make peace with his position at his father's company, but the fact remained that he'd lost a Ministry position to Hermione Granger.

'Senior Analyst, The Advertisement Department,' read the plaque, beneath the brunette's name.

"Come in!"

Draco jumped at the sharp call, before he quickly cleared his throat and entered the office.

Hermione's head was bent over a colorful parchment – which didn't look like a traditional parchment, actually. He took a better look, and realized that it looked more like that Muggle, synthesized material – the name of which, he always forgot.

"Draco!"

Draco jumped again, and then he did a double take. Hermione's own eyes widened a second later, and he knew she'd realized it, too.

She called him by his first name.

A silly grin broke out on his face. "Draco, eh? When did we get to the first-name basis?"

Hermione, predictably, rolled her eyes. "What do you want?" She pointed at the non-parchments before her. "I'm working."

"I can see that," Draco said, nodding, and walked down to her desk. Plopping down in a chair, he narrowed his eyes at her. "And I'm supposing you've been working for two weeks straight?"

Draco hadn't expected her to feel guilty, but by the way she winced―biting her lower lip, and making his imagination run―he suspected an apology coming his way. Another thing he hadn't expected.

"You were never going to owl me, were you?" he slowly asked, trying his best to not let the hurt show.

But it probably did, because she immediately shut her eyes, exhaling. "I'm sorry, Draco, I was just…"

She looked around her office, helplessly, and Draco let out a humorless chuckle. "You were busy, I get it."

Honestly, why did he ever think that she would take the offer up? Why would she want to dine with him, after their rocky past and his douche-like behaviour ever since they got in contact again?

Salazar, he was stupid.

He made to stand, but she jumped up, too, before he could have straightened.

He looked at her panicked face, questioningly, and she shook her head as if she was brushing thoughts off. "How about lunch?"

His eyes snapped open wider in surprise. "For real?"

She passed him an evidently hesitant smile. "Yeah."

He grinned back. "Sure! Now?"

She replied with a playful, "Sure." She quickly grabbed her wand from somewhere behind her desk and swished it. The next moment, her desk was being set.

"Your venue or mine?" he questioned her, thinking about that awesome Italian food joint near Theo's place, that he was sure was going to impress the heck out of her.

"Why don't you just hold tight?" she asked him, taking him by surprise.

He shrugged, stepping towards her, and wrapped his hand around hers. Then she was Apparating, taking him side-along, and they ended up outside―

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was about to bring you here, too?" he asked her, laughing, as they walked into the Italian restaurant.

Hermione smiled at him, this time more easily than all the previous times. "Yes, I would. I'd met you down a few streets, that day."

He let her choose a table, and slid in opposite her. "Yes, I was visiting a friend. You remember Theo Nott from school?"

She frowned, pausing in the process of picking up the menu. "Nott lives here? Wasn't he some sort of a millionaire after the fortunes his ancestors left him?"

Draco smiled, wryly. "Yes, he is. He's had some adjustments made to his apartment―including an expansion spell, mind you―such that the interior of the place rivals a mansion."

Hermione arched her eyebrows, but said nothing. She pointed to a dish on the menu. "I won't read it aloud, because I know I'll mispronounce it," she said, causing him to laugh aloud, "but I do insist that you try this, if you haven't before."

Draco looked at it, and smiled. "Cacciucco. Oh. It's an Italian fish stew, it's amazing."

"So you have had it before." She sounded disgruntled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean I can't have it again, Granger."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. At first, she looked surprised―not exactly pleasantly surprised, either―but then she wiggled her eyebrows, mischievously, and he knew she'd masked her original thoughts. "I thought we were on first-name basis?"

Draco leant back in seat, crossing his arms, and squinted at her. "I actually refer to you in my head by your first name. But to your face, Granger feels more natural."

She simply shook her head, laughing.

Draco was about to explain further, but stopped short when a waiter walked up to them.

"Hello, sir. Madam. Hope you're having a good day. Are you ready to order, yet?" the younger looking bloke asked them.

Hermione's eyes flashed to Draco, eyebrows raised up. "Um…"

He grinned at her. "Yes, we are."

Harry gets up from crouching next to the fireplace, perspiration on his forehead and a hell lot of worries inside it.

"I just got off a floo call from Molly," he informs everyone. "Arthur is on his way, here. Kingsley – what's the update?"

"Lucius found the details of Caterina's wand from the papers she'd submitted when she took the job," Kingsley begins, pointing at the blond man who seems to be casting spell after spell on something Harry can't see, "and he's been trying to track its last magical activity. Robards is sending troops down to her apartment in Diagon, even though I have no real hopes from that approach."

Harry steps towards Kingsley's desk, nodding, and points at the letter in Mafalda Hopkirk's hands. "Anything, Hopkirk?"

The blonde woman clicks her tongue in response, shaking her head. "For a tramp, this Caterina woman is way too sharp with concealing spells."

Harry rolls his eyes, frustrated beyond belief. These are the Ministry's elite forces? They were firing shots in the dark if they couldn't figure out the details about the letter Caterina wrote. They knew, for a fact, that she wasn't working alone, and Harry felt that the identity of her partner was extremely crucial.

Kingley slips past him, heading to the door. "You take charge, here, Harry, and I'll check up on Robards and those troops."

Harry simply nods in response.

"Miss Weasley!"

Harry jumps, twisting in place, and releases a low grunt of irritation when Narcissa Malfoy flies into the office.

"Missus Malfoy," Ginny mumbles, darting a panicked glance his way, before she gets up to address a frantic Narcissa. "What are―"

"What," Narcissa cuts her off, and hearing the bite in her tone, Harry takes a cautious step towards them, "in Salazar's name were your and Miss Granger talking about?"

Harry stops, blinking at the absurd question the woman has asked. But judging by grimace on his girlfriend's face, it is probably not that absurd to her.

"Harry!"

Harry's head snaps in the direction of Ron's voice. "Did you find something?" he questions, immediately walking up to the haggard redhead. "Ron?" Harry presses when he doesn't receive a response.

"There's too much wand-work done in that room to trace any footprints," Blaise Zabini glumly informs him, walking into the office after Ron.

"What? Come on, Zabini, you can't be serious!" he exclaims, incredulously, wanting to punch someone out of disgruntlement.

"Mate, I know, but…" Zabini trails off, shrugging.

Muffled sobs draw his attention, and Harry's eyes widen to find Padma weeping. "I can't―I can't find a single thing! Some best friend, I am!"

"Padma―"

"Potter." Zabini stops him. "Let me."

Raising his brows, Harry steps back, letting the dark skinned wizard pass.

"Oh, Godric, what the hell do we do?" Ron mumbles, next to him, chewing on a nail as he starts pacing next to Kingsley's desk. "We scanned the entire room and all we could detect was jumbles!"

"As are the details of her wand's spellwork. But, Mister Potter," Lucius Malfoy announces, walking up to join the two wizards, "I did discover that Caterina last used her wand in that room. Miss Granger's office, I mean."

Harry turns to look at Ron and then at Zabini over Padma's head, but the wizards are already looking at each other with matching, guilty looks. "We were too late," Ron mumbles, shaking his head with obvious self-reproach.

Harry steps forward and squeezes Ron's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it isn't, Mister Potter. It is my son's fault."

Harry looks up at Narcissa in surprise, to find the woman looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and a whole lot of guilt on her face. Next to her, Ginny looks like she's at the verge of tears, too.

Harry quickly walks over and engulfs his girlfriend in a hug. Quietly, he murmurs to her, "I'd like to know about that conversation, too." Ginny tenses against him, but he holds her tighter. "You tear up every single time it is brought up… please, tell me what happened, Gin."

"We were talking about Rogers, Harry… you know how much she hates him…" Ginny breathlessly tells him between restrained sobs. "And―and that idiot Malfoy thought we were talking about him! That arse, he misinterpreted everything… and didn't even talk about it!"

Harry's gut churns at Rogers' name, for some reason. A prickly feeling climbs up his back.

He looks around, and suddenly frowns. "Where the fuck is Malfoy?"

Where the fuck is he, indeed?

Thoughts?

xo, Ash!