"Granger," Malfoy interrupted her train of thought. The chess pieces were waiting patiently for the past five minutes to be moved. She ignored Malfoy. She almost had it; the strategy. The play was right in front of her. The checkmate would be possible on her next turn if she- "Granger, we'll be late."

"Give me a second." Hermione could feel the particular move slipping through her mind like a snake evading capture.

Malfoy stepped forward and moved the white knight. She protested but he continued. The black bishop was forced to take it otherwise it would be a checkmate; all of which Malfoy manually moved himself instead of instructing the pieces. And now, the king was open to being taken by the castle and cornered against the queen. Checkmate.

She looked up at him, annoyed. "Would you stay out of my game?" He stared at her expectantly and she groaned. He was dressed as he always was, and she was layered in three pieces of clothing again. A tee, a jumper, and a coat. He looked woefully underdressed for the bitter afternoon outside.

She felt for her wand and absentmindedly patted her waistband. Something was missing, but she couldn't remember exactly what. Her hip felt lighter for travel than she was comfortable with it being. Standing, she looked around for the missing item, expecting for it to materialise.

"What now, Granger?" Malfoy huffed impatiently.

"I'm missing something. I just don't know what." She looked at him and inspected his robed body. Nothing looked different. "Do you have it?"

"Have what?" Malfoy looked at his watch. "We have to go. Now ."

Anxiety rose like a wave inside her chest. "I don't know." Malfoy's eyes flicked up to her, alarmed at her tone. "I don't know, I just know I had something, and I never leave without it and it's not with me."

"Can we do this later?" Malfoy was losing his patience, and she could see it happening. But, she needed this thing she had no idea she was missing until now. Because she was leaving the safety of the one warded, hidden place … to travel; and travelling was how people got caught.

"Was I brought here with anything?" Hermione dropped to the floor and began digging through the storage box that kept her clothes. Desperation fed her anxiety. "Was there anything else besides my clothing with me?"

"Granger, I'll help you look." Malfoy yanked her to her feet. "But we have two minutes to get to the bloody portkey otherwise we won't get another chance to get you in the field."

"I-"

"Focus. You have a goal." Malfoy shook her slightly and his cold grey eyes came into focus. "Are you with me?"

"Yes."

Even with the insecurity, she followed him as he ran to the hillside at the tree line. A glass bottle lay nestled in the roots of a naked tree, almost inconspicuous. They were both panting; fighting for air because an uphill run, even after days of constant training, was still too much for their lungs to handle.

Malfoy held the bottle out for her to hold. In the two seconds it took for her to grasp it, she took one last look at the house that had become the only thing she knew and the closest thing to a home. But it was gone.

She wasn't even aware they had passed through a protective barrier.

A powerful yank behind her navel twisted uncomfortably, and she was flying through the air with no idea which direction was up or down. But Malfoy was with her, and her hand was glued to the cool surface of the bottle.

They landed in an alleyway. Hermione stumbled as her feet tried to find a flat surface; she was so unused to travelling by portkey. Malfoy flattened her to the wall before she could look at him. She shoved him off and glared at him. He was too close to her all the bloody time now. He looked winded, but they had been running less than a minute ago.

She wasn't sure if he pushed her into the wall to secure her balance, or if he had lost his footing as well. She didn't say thank you.

The smell was immediate: overflowing trash, stagnant puddles, and the stinging, sharp scent of urine immediately washed over them. Her nose scrunched involuntarily as she looked around. Malfoy took her wrist, and without letting her stew in indignation, yanked her into the busy street.

They weren't wearing disguises. But it didn't matter, because the streets were teeming with people, heads bobbing like floating ping-pong balls in a bucket. They blended right in. It didn't matter that Draco wore dark robes, it looked like a long coat.

It might have been too much, but Hermione found the genuine blandness of muggle life to be so integral to her memories of London, with her parents, that it calmed her. The rising chatter, the honking of car horns, the monotonous tone of car tires as they tread the pitch roads all created a happy melody of some distant past.

The familiar and comforting smell of coffee beckoned her attention. Her stomach growled earnestly in response, but she ignored it.

Malfoy's grip tightened as he pulled her onto a maintained side path. A building she vaguely remembered materialised, and she could feel the magic in the air. An anti-muggle spell, an illusion spell, and wards. Her wand vibrated in her pocket as they passed through an invisible barrier.

"Why are we at Headquarters?" Hermione yanked her wrist from his hand. He stopped just as he was about to push the door open.

"Recruitment is being relocated. Everything's a mess." Malfoy jerked his chin toward the door. "It was best to bring you here."

The woman at the counter looked bored. Her attention was focused on the paperback book in her hands, and she hardly looked up at them. When she spotted Malfoy, she sat up a little straighter. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, but every table of the cafe-that-wasn't-really-a-cafe remained empty. The pastry display was pastryless.

"Mr Malfoy," Her voice went a little high on the last syllable. Hermione raised her eyebrow at the interaction. The woman's cheeks dusted pink. "They're expecting you."

"Thanks, Betha," Malfoy smiled and nodded politely, but his eyes remained slate grey. He glanced at Hermione, and she took that as an indication to follow him. He approached the janitor's closet, tapped the door with his wand, and opened it to find a ladder that disappeared into the ceiling above.

The metal made a distinct, tinny sound when Malfoy's palm wrapped around the bar. He stood aside to make room, then Hermione shut the door. The janitor's closet was one square metre of space and Malfoy's presence was bigger than her own. He knew this place. She didn't.

"Go on." He jerked his chin to where the ladder disappeared into a black hole.

"Seriously." Hermione's eyebrows lifted as her eyes widened. "Why do I have to go first?"

"Fine," Malfoy grumbled. He managed to make it look elegant; climbing a dingy ladder disappearing into a questionable, incomprehensible distance. When his ankles disappeared, she held the bar and felt it vibrating as he ascended.

"Granger. Would you stop being a prat and come up?" Malfoy's voice echoed down. Hermione glowered at the nothingness. She hauled herself up and clambered upward, shutting her eyes as her head breached into the darkness. When nothing happened, she looked up and saw Malfoy's amused face peering down at her. She released the ladder and crawled onto the landing, ignoring Malfoy's carefully controlled silence.

It felt abandoned. The air was too still, the silence deafened her with the sound of her own tinnitus filling in the quiet. "Where is everyone?" Hermione whispered. She looked around, and it was just an abandoned attic. Malfoy's mouth twitched in what she suspected was a smile. Once he opened the lone door, it was like someone popped a balloon.

Witches and wizards bustled around and through a too-long corridor; letters zoomed overhead like she had seen at the Ministry. She almost got hit by people carrying mugs of actual coffee, or boxes of papers, or stacks of parchment. Malfoy guided her through, and as much as she hated his hand on her back, she was used to his company and relying on him.

It was an overload to her senses. She hadn't seen this many magical people in what felt like months. The building was so thick with magic it felt like inhaling someone's heavily sprayed perfume. She coughed, trying to clear her throat, but Malfoy kept going.

Finally, he knocked and entered a closed door that bore a tarnished plaque she didn't have time to read. In the room was a huge, mahogany desk with a tall, ancient-looking chair. The velvet that upholstered it looked worn and bare; the shine and luxury long gone from years of use.

"Nice of you to finally show yourself." Remus Lupin was standing at a window, overlooking the bustling street under the office window.

"Me?" Hermione started. "I-"

"Hermione?" Remus turned and froze when his eyes met hers. He glanced at Malfoy who was standing tensely beside her. "What- how are you feeling?" He glared at Malfoy in a clear show of distaste. "Why have you brought her here-"

Hermione was quickly realising that this wasn't the Remus Lupin she remembered as her professor, nor the man she had known in the following years that she could remember. His hair was shaved. A scar lined his scalp from the back of his head to his eyebrow. His clothes were the most recognizable thing about him. Shabby.

"Why shouldn't I be here?" She interjected. The sting of him treating her like she was delicate lit something inside her. She didn't feel like being kind, or nice, or letting anyone speak over her and treat her like someone who was only good for their ideas. She wanted answers.

Remus' face went slack. "Hermione, we heard what happened-"

"And I'm fine," she cut him off again. "Put me back in the field."

"Harry, Ron and Sirius have already left," Remus gestured helplessly, like that would convince her to stop asking, "and besides, we heard you have memory loss-"

"For fuck's sake, Remus." Hermione felt odd saying his first name, but he needed to understand. She believed herself equal to him, and to get where she needed to go, she was going to have to peacock her way through it. "Then put me on another task. I don't give a shit about where the boys have gone."

Remus looked disappointed, which in other circumstances, Hermione would be inclined to feel ashamed; for raising her voice and swearing at him. He was like an uncle to her, and she knew he loved all of them. But, Malfoy was right. She had a goal.

Remus' hair made a sandy sound when he passed his hand along his scalp. The short fibres reminded her of static. He sank into the tall-backed chair and sighed, his entire body sagging like he was going to sleep. "I'll find something for you to do."

"Lupin," Malfoy tried, tentatively. Remus glanced up and went still at the sight of him, like he had completely forgotten Malfoy was with her. "I've cleared her of the injuries. Her memories are still missing. There's no saying for sure what is the cause, but I request permission to accompany her-"

"Absolutely not," Remus' voice went sharp. "We need you here, and if your duties are diluted, we won't be able to use you-"

"I want him with me," Hermione blurted. Remus fixed her with a long stare and Hermione maintained eye contact. Remus huffed.

"No. He is needed here." Remus stood again, filling the space with his presence and authority. "I will find something for you, Hermione. But if you ask one more time, you will be confined to simpler roles."

"I-" She protested foolishly.

"Granger," Malfoy's voice was quiet. A warning. She glanced at him and shut her mouth.

"You're dismissed, Hermione," Remus sounded fatigued to the point of giving up. "I need to have a word with Malfoy." Her feet didn't move. She glanced helplessly at Malfoy. He nodded slightly, and Hermione left with reluctance.

She wanted to know what he did. Why was he needed?

She wanted to understand. Why was she so desperate to have him with her?

She sat in the empty attic corner, because the bustling offices outside of Remus' turned into a kind of zoo, with Hermione as the star attraction.

Laughing at herself, she wondered if all the people she remembered to be different from who they are now also remembered her differently. She tried desperately to remember the ambitious girl she used to be. How she used that very ambition to help her friends.

Right now, she was using it to help herself.

Had she ever been alone before? She couldn't think of a time, besides Harry taking Ron's side a few times through the years. But, she had her other Gryffindor peers.

She could do this alone.

She had to.

Malfoy sidled out of the door and paused when he saw her sitting, zoned out, staring at the dirty window as her mind swarmed with so many unanswered questions.

"I think this is probably what you were missing." Malfoy held up something shiny and noisy. Gentle clicks of plastic on plastic as the loose bits dangled freely. A purse. Her purse. "It's rather heavy, and I never saw you without it before. I didn't notice it was missing until now."

"Where was it?" Hermione got to her feet and took it from him. She was, in fact, surprised by the weight. She remembered starting it as a project in sixth year. Testing her magical ability and hoping to use it in preparation for the war.

Malfoy half shrugged. "Lupin had it. Said Weasley brought it in, or something. That he forgot he had it."

Anger flared abruptly. She wanted to scream, or yell, or hurt Ron, but he wasn't here. He and Harry were long gone. Unreachable.

Malfoy was already disappearing down the hole and back into reality.

Hermione followed him.