"Are you even trying, Draco?" Hermione asked as a sputter of light shot from the end of his wand. His shoulders slumped and his head hung back. She had instructed him exactly how she had others, think of a pleasant memory and say the charm with conviction.
"Honestly, no," he said, his voice vibrating off the stone walls of the ballroom.
"Draco…"
He pulled her into an embrace, kissing her ear softly. "How about instead of wasting our time down here, we take this upstairs and make a really happy memory for me to think about?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, pushing him away. "Not until we can make a little progress."
Draco sighed, shaking his head. "What more can I do?"
"What makes you happy, Draco?" she asked, straightening the collar of his shirt. "Can you show me?"
"You can look, but you won't find much," he shrugged.
Hermione was shocked at his proposal. "You'll let me in?"
The back of his fingers grazed her cheek as he looked into her eyes, "Seems only fair, I've been in your head."
Draco sat down at the dining table, and Hermione leaned against it. When he looked comfortable and relaxed, she drew her wand, holding the tip to his temple.
"Legiliment," she said softly, being thrown into the recesses of his mind. Hermione figured he'd be guarded in what he showed her, but she had full reign. Everything from what he could remember was presented in front of her as little books on shelves for her to dig through.
The sound of laughter caught her attention, and she felt herself drawn into a memory when Draco was very young.
The small blonde haired, blue eyed boy was running around with two little witches, one blonde and one tiny brunette. They looked no older than James, playing on a large playground. They chased each other, giggling, being kids. The young Draco was smiling ear to ear as the Greengrass sisters followed him around like baby ducks.
"Tell me about this memory," Hermione said, not being able to hold back a smile herself.
The present day Draco stood next to her, watching the three play and laugh without worry. "This was the first time I met Daph and Tori."
The edges of the memory began to blur quickly, moving through time faster than Hermione could process. She recognized this feeling well, when her own memories slipped from one to another.
"What's happening, Draco? Can you stop it?"
He whispered softly, closing his eyes. "When I am comfortable enough to think of something good, sometimes it just spirals out of my control. It reminds me of the bad things that have followed."
They were suddenly at the bedside of a sick Astoria. She couldn't have been older than twelve years old, pale and coughing. She saw a teenage Draco, sitting in a chair next to the ailing young girl, looking over her nervously. Cornelius Greengrass set his hand on Draco's shoulder, comforting him.
"Is she going to die?" Draco asked him.
"One day," he replied. "But we all will one day, son."
Hermione became dizzy as the memories started to advance again, moving faster than she could even process. Quickly, days at Hogwarts with Daphne and Astoria became darker as the war advanced. It jumped quickly, and began to flood with the carnage of battle. She had no choice but to stand still, watching as Draco tore apart the Order, draining their blood, seeing herself in the periphery view on occasion, realizing how close she had been at times to death.
Then, she saw Cornelius standing in the Greengrass estate, Draco towering over the old man, staring down at him with hatred and disgust.
"What do you mean you've been aiding the Order?" the more recent memory of Draco spat at the Greengrass patriarch.
"Exactly as it sounds, son."
"I am no fucking son of a traitor to the Dark Lord."
Cornelius smiled at him, his hands shaking, but masking his fear. "But Draco, I'm afraid you are. Do not disregard your own mother, and all that she has done for you."
"Don't fucking talk about her!"
"Aren't you tired, my son? Don't you want this to end? There isn't a world in which he reigns that you will ever not be exhausted. If he stays in control, my girls will not be safe. You will not be safe."
"I should turn you in myself, and make sure that Astoria and Daphne are not caught in your fucking mess."
"It's only a matter of moments before he finds out and comes for me, Draco. I am running out of time."
In the memory before them, Draco's eyes went wide as he took a step back. "Why have you done something so stupid?"
"Because I am old now, I have fought in this war twice. I know who will win, and it won't be him."
"So everything that has happened to me, everything that I've done, will have been for nothing?" Draco's eyes looked at his own hands, as if they were covered in blood.
"No, my boy. You've had no choice. Everything you've done will have been to keep them safe, to preserve your own life. No one will fault you for that," Cornelius assured him.
The memories sped up again, but less time passed until they stopped at the next point. Hermione felt uneasy as they stood in the Death Chamber, seeing Cornelius' hands bound at the top steps of the room. Daphne and Astoria were on their knees directly below Cornelius. Daphne held onto Astoria as she sobbed, keeping a deadpan look as she stared into Draco's eyes that were hidden beneath the silver and emerald mask on his face.
Voldemort commanded Draco to kill the man he saw as a father, and Hermione saw the hesitation in his movements. It wasn't immediate or instinctual as she had seen him act before. Hermione turned to him, and saw he was looking down, not being able to face what he had done. Though he was already so pale, he looked even more so, almost turning green in sickness.
It took Hermione more effort than it normally would to leave Draco's mind, his memories held so much emotion that it was difficult to pull him away. When she saw him on the chair in front of her, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered.
"It's in the past."
"But it follows you now," she said, pressing her forehead against his, feeling his cool temperature
"Do you want to try again?" he asked.
Confusion overcame Hermione at his willingness to try again. It would have been incredibly upsetting for anyone to have gone through their past, especially with how Draco's strung together, as one happy thought would morph into the horrific things that followed.
"You're willing to do that?"
His hand went to her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin softly. "I know it's important to you."
"If we're going to hunt for lethifolds, you need to know how to summon a Patronus, Draco."
"Yes, I'm sure that's the reason you're so concerned. Definitely because of lethifolds and dementors and not because you're desperate for me to be a little less sad so it's easier to kill me later." He smirked at her, "I can handle it, Granger, No matter how much you pity me."
"I don't pity you," she tried to convince them both. But Hermione did feel sad for him. How could she not? A tragic tale of a boy forced to turn into a monster. "Legiliment," she said again, her wand against his temple.
She observed several books, finding ones that felt heavier to indicate the meaning behind it. It wasn't until she heard the gentle sounds of a piano that she decided to open one of the covers.
"Is this how you see your memories as well? As books?" he asked her as she pulled the pages open.
"Yes," she replied. "We are all just a collection of our own stories, aren't we?"
He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head as they entered the study with the piano. A young Draco, no older than 10, sitting on the piano bench next to his mother. They played a melody together as Narcissa instructed him on his posture and turned the pages of the sheet music. She praised him for making the timings of the music, telling him how proud she was of her son.
Hermione watched, seeing the small boy beam with pride when his mother acknowledged him. The happy look on his face quickly disappeared, as the door to the study swung open and Lucius Malfoy entered the room. The boy looked scared, and a nervousness overcame Hermione as well, seeing the stoic man observing him. The small hands pressing on the piano keys began to shake, feeling the harsh stare of his father behind him.
The second his finger slipped and hit an off note, Lucius smacked the back of his head, making Hermione jump.
"Again. From the beginning," Lucius commanded him.
"Lucius, darling, are you sure that's necessary?" Narcissa asked, her voice shaking a bit.
His own voice was like a weapon, striking fear into the room. "Are you questioning me?"
Narcissa stood from the bench, walking towards her husband carefully, trying to ease the tension. "No, of course not, my love. He just wants to do his best."
"That isn't good enough."
"It's going to have to be," she said, trying to maintain eye contact with him
Hermione's stomach sank when Lucius stuck Narcissa across the face. Before she could look over to Draco, they were pushed through his years spent at home. The yelling of his father, the cries of his mother, the chaos of the household was becoming overwhelming. And each time, she saw the small boy, each year getting older, attempting to fight back against his father, being punished more as the years dragged on.
A guilt began to set in, thinking about how if she had known back then, maybe she could have helped him.
Then, she saw a teenage Draco standing in front of Voldemort, his long, pale fingers on the shoulders of the scared boy. They stood before a cell that held Narcissa Malfoy, who bared her fangs at them, looking thin and gaunt. Her eyes were hollow, like she wasn't there at all, just a husk reaching out through the bars, trying to grab him.
Hermione moved between Draco and the memory, looking into his eyes that were transfixed on the scene before them. Cupping his face in her hands, she pulled his attention back to her.
"Take me somewhere nice," she said softly, trying to focus him away from the screams of his mother. "Think of somewhere you felt safe."
Closing his eyes, the memory of his mother began to fade around them, and a darkness enveloped, but she didn't look away from his face until he opened his eyes.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His hands went to hers, holding them close against him. "I am now."
Hermione saw the stars start to flood the darkness around them, and she turned to see herself laying on top of him, mumbling space facts as he rubbed her back gently.
"I want to think about this night when I cast the charm, if that's okay with you. I know it wasn't the best day, but these few hours meant a lot to me."
"Of course," she said, surprised that of everything, he wanted this moment to be the one he thought of when he tried to summon his Patronus.
They were back in the ballroom together, and Draco was holding her hand in his still. "You are the sun to me, in a life I'm cursed to not feel it."
Everything Hermione had tried to convince herself was falling apart. She had repeatedly said that they were nothing to each other. They were simply working together for the same outcome. That the only thing keeping them bound to one another was their mutual goals.
In no world did she ever picture wanting him as badly as she did, craving for his flesh more than he craved her blood. The idea of killing him once excited her, but now set a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
But she couldn't resist any further, so she leaned into him, closing her eyes as she pursed her lips, hoping he would reciprocate. When her lips touched his, she felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her onto his lap, closer than she was before.
It felt like he was melting against her skin, the iciness of him encircling her like a winter breeze. His cold breaths slipped into her mouth, making her breathless, feeling him in her lungs. The spearmint and whiskey felt stinging as she breathed him in. He tasted like everything she found comforting, letting him drool into her mouth, wanting to savor every second.
Though it was physically impossible, she wanted to be closer, pulling him harder against her while still softly kissing him. His nose pressed against hers as he desperately found every angle to touch their lips together, like he had thought of every way to kiss her in his head, finally being able to act out each movement he so badly wanted.
In his arms, it felt like home to her. Welcoming and warm, despite how cold his skin was. He had given her a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in years, and she didn't want to let him go.
So when he pulled away from her, she tried to claw him back. Wanting more. Needing more. But he looked into her eyes, making her stop for just a second.
He laced his fingers into hers, and she felt the warm coin between their palms. "Promise you'll come back to me," he whispered, the smell of spearmint was intoxicating, luring her in.
"I am yours, Draco," Hermione said back, meaning every word.
"As I am yours," he replied onto her lips, kissing her one more time. "Tell Weasley congratulations for me. And tell James I said hello."