Let me take his place somehow,
You see he's not just anyone
He's My Son.
Hermione knocked on the door of Draco's suite, and watched as it opened seemingly on its own. However, as she walked into the room she saw Draco casually pocketing his wand.
"More magic?"
Draco detected a hint of exhaustion in her voice.
"Magic is who we are, Granger,"
"Maybe," she whispered. "But it isn't a part of myself that I can remember, not really."
She sat on the bed. Draco was seated in the chair in the corner. The shadows contrasting his face. Hermione eyed him. She wondered, once more, how she and Draco fell in love. He seemed so…refined. The best of everything. It seemed a far cry from how she lived now. A lowly waitress who could barely afford to feed herself.
If she'd been his wife…then she too would have had the best of everything so…why had she walked away?
"Draco, are you rich? I mean, are you…well off?"
Draco smirked. "The Malfoys are an old Magical family. My father made a fortune, and passed it to me. Yes, we want for nothing."
Hermione thought once again, silently.
Draco uncrossed his legs and sat forward. "I am Lord of Malfoy Manor, and you are Lady. And our life is waiting for us."
"But why, Draco? If everything was so good between us, why did I do what I did?"
Draco ducked his head. "I can't tell you, Hermione. You have to figure it out yourself. If I tell you…the spell could fall in on itself. We might not ever get home."
"I feel like I'm going crazy! It comes in bits and pieces and I feel like I am remembering, but then everything is so hazy again!" She put her hands to her head and cried.
Draco silently stood and poured her a drink. He handed it to her and she sipped it slowly as she tried to calm herself.
"It will come back, your memory. It will. Then, all of this will make sense."
He sat beside her, their shoulders touching. She leaned her head against him. "Do you promise?"
"I do."
Hermione couldn't help the exhaustion that overcame her. As she drifted off, she almost laughed. She was sure this wasn't the evening that Draco had been hoping for. What she didn't know was that Draco couldn't have wanted anything more than to do exactly what he was doing. Holding his wife, watching her sleep, and knowing she was where she belonged. In his arms.
Hermione walked hand in hand with Magnus down the busy streets of London. They were meeting Draco for lunch. She was preoccupied because they were running late. She was holding her phone to her ear, calling Draco to let her know where they were. The streets were crowded with people shopping for the Christmas holiday.
"We're right outside. Can you meet us?"
"I'll be right out," Draco answered through the phone.
She saw him through the window of the restaurant and waved. Magnus waved too. Just then, someone drove onto the sidewalk on a motorbike and grabbed Hermione's purse and knocked her down. In the scuffle, she let go of Magnus's hand.
"Draco!" she yelled as Magnus was knocked into the street.
Before either of them could react, it was too late.
Hermione screamed. A sound that froze everything around them. She crawled into the street and picked up the body of her child. Draco was there. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around them both. It was too late. Magnus was gone. And their world shattered completely in a split second.
Hermione woke to the sound of a guttural scream, and soon realized that it came from her. She fought, lashed out, and cursed. Draco's arms stayed tight around her through it all. He knew there was only one reason for this.
She'd remembered. She finally knew what happened. And although he was all at once relieved that they would be home soon, his heart broke for his wife. She was now reliving the pain of losing their only child all over again.
There was nothing he could do now, just like there was nothing he could do before. Just hold her and wait. Wait for the pain to subside. Wait for the screams to fade. Wait for the heartbreak to mend. Only, last time…it didn't. Before it could, Hermione had cut herself off and away from the reality of their loss. Unable to cope with losing their precious boy. He couldn't really blame her. He would've done the same, but he couldn't leave her…instead she left him.
"Shh," he soothed her.
"Magnus!" she called out his name as a broken sob.
"I know, love,"
Draco had never been a nurturer. Love and nurturing went hand in hand for some, but not Draco. That side of him had been awakened though, when Hermione was pregnant. And then when Magnus was a baby, he'd become an expert nurturer. Now, he used those honed skills to comfort his wife as her memories became fully restored.
"Oh, Draco," she cried.
Somehow, he felt her heart breaking. He could physically feel her pain. He held her as she cried until finally, she sat straight and wiped her tears.
"I want to go home." she said firmly.
Draco looked into her eyes. He didn't need any further words. He could see her resolve. He reached into his nightstand and pulled out her wand. He placed it in her hands. Hermione closed her eyes, whispering an incantation.
"Take my hand, Draco,"
Draco wrapped one arm around her back and held her tightly. The other he intertwined with her fingers and then next thing he knew they were standing on their balcony at Malfoy Manor.
Just like that…the months of searching and pain. The weeks of watching his wife suffer, while being oblivious. All of it. Everything was over.
Everything except the hard part.
Hermione made her way inside and looked around. The picture of a smiling and laughing Magnus animated itself on her nightstand. She sank to her knees and stared at the photo.
"Why?" she whispered.
"I don't know. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, Hermione."
"You were, Draco,"
"No."
His mind flashed to those days after Magnus died. His anger had consumed him. Rage, coupled with sadness unlike anything he'd ever known overtook him.
The man on the motorbike was easy enough to find. And easy enough to kill. All it took was a flick of the wrist. He tried to hide it from Hermione, afraid of what she'd think of him.
If he had been paying attention he would have realized that she wasn't thinking clearly herself.
"I'm so sorry. For everything,"
"So am I,"
He grabbed her and kissed her trembling lips. They held each other and cried together for an hour.
Or maybe a day.
When Hermione woke she was laying on the floor in Draco's arms, cradling their photo of Magnus. She carefully sat the photo aside and pulled herself up. She smoothed a hand over her hair. Her unkempt curls willed themselves in all directions.
Hermione looked down at her husband. Dark lashes fluttered against his alabaster skin. She smoothed a finger across his cheek. Draco's skin was never soft, despite how flawless it appeared. There was always a coarseness to his skin. Rough from years of Dark Magic abuse, Hermione always figured. She couldn't think of another reason.
"Draco," she whispered.
"I'm awake," he mumbled.
His eyes opened slowly and he rolled to his side. "It felt so nice to sleep at home. Even if it was on the floor,"
Hermione smiled a slow smile. She agreed. Her heart was torn to shreds, but she agreed. "I'm suddenly remembering why I wanted to forget everything,"
Draco sighed. "I know," He sat up and looked around their room.
"I see him everywhere. I hear his laugh," she whispered.
"I know," he agreed once more. His hand grasped hers. "Maybe it's time to go somewhere new. Move away from here,"
"No," she shook her head. "I've done enough running away,"
"Then we'll get through this together," he squeezed her hand. His voice became solemn and low. "You didn't have to run, Hermione. You didn't have to leave me,"
"I'm so sorry. I know it was wrong,"
"I'm not angry. I was just… I lost Magnus and then I lost you,"
Hermione placed her hands on either side of his face, "I know, Draco. I was terribly unfair to you. I couldn't see past my own grief…past my own guilt."
"Guilt? It wasn't your fault!"
She shook her head. "I know that now."
Picking up the picture frame once more she stroked the animated face of her son. "Do you think he's happy, Draco? Where he is now,"
Draco thought long and hard over the question that had haunted him. He'd never given thought to his own mortality until his son crossed over before him…now he thought of little else. It was always present in his mind. Would he see Magnus again someday? Was there really life after death?
"I know he's happy," he whispered.
"How?"
"I can feel it,"
Hermione smiled. "I think I can as well,"
