Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Pound of Flesh	By : PennilynNovus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 145349 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, and Warner Brothers. I'm not making any money off of this. I'm writing it for my own amusement (and y

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Chapter Twenty-One: Reality Check, Like a Bludger to the Head

The end of September slipped by, and October began with no more notice than any other month. The days grew shorter, the temperature fell, and it rained for six solid days. The leaves began to grow brittle and change colors. On the streets, people pulled up their collars and grumbled about the weather, and how quickly summer seemed to have faded.

Nobody felt the passage of time more acutely than Hermione Granger, who would put a red slash through each passing day on her calendar. The days piled up one after the other, and with every new day, the tension she felt only increased.

Every night, before she closed her eyes at the end of another wonderful day as Draco Malfoy�s girlfriend, she would tell herself that tomorrow would be the day she would attempt to break his Memory Charm and tell him the truth about who he was, and who she was. And every morning when she opened her eyes, either to the sight of Draco asleep next to her, or his face smiling out at her from the picture frame next to her bed, her resolve failed.

Every new day brought a renewed sense of guilt, and though Draco didn�t understand why, she stopped visiting him at work. It was too hard to watch him strip when he ought to be brewing potions or supervising the restoration of magical artifacts, or any number of other respectable wizarding jobs. Instead, she would wait for him outside in the alley, and walk with him back to his flat, or if it was the weekend, they would go to her flat.

With this new amount of free time, Hermione toiled many a long evening away over books on law. She tried to find exceptions, exclusions, clauses � any loophole that might mean Draco Malfoy could be a free man. The Wizengamot, however, did not have a comforting history of granting clemency, no matter the circumstances. Especially in matters concerning known Death Eaters. Though he bore no Dark Mark, his actions on the night of Dumbledore�s death would be ample evidence to prove his alliances. The last Death Eater to avoid Azkaban despite his crimes was Severus Snape, and that was only after Dumbledore had vouched for him and pleaded his case.

Hermione didn�t doubt that Dumbledore would do the same for Draco, but Dumbledore was five years dead. He could not help her. The only wizard that held the same amount of power to sway the Wizengamot was Harry Potter, and that was only if he would agree to help to begin with.

It was a laughable idea. Hermione imagined what would happen if she went to Harry and asked for his help in pardoning Draco Malfoy, who happened to be alive after all � and her boyfriend � and shook her head. It would never happen, and Harry would probably never speak to her again afterward.

Ginny disagreed with her, though. She told Hermione � several times � that if approached in the right manner, Harry might be agreeable to helping Draco. After all, Ginny argued, Harry knew better than anyone else what had happened to Draco in the year leading up to his attempt on Dumbledore�s life. Harry knew that he had been forced into his actions by Voldemort.

But Hermione reminded Ginny of Harry�s history with Draco, of six years of unequivocal hatred, of their numerous altercations, of the incident in Myrtle�s bathroom when Draco had tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry. She would like to believe that Harry could overcome all of that, as Ginny did, but she knew of his propensity to hold grudges. She was not optimistic.

A few Fridays after Hermione�s birthday, as she leaned in the alley, toasty from the Warming Charm she�d cast on herself, Draco popped his head out the back door of the club and beckoned her in. She shook her head and made herself more comfortable against the brick wall.

�Don�t be an idiot, Jane. It�s cold out here.�

�I�m fine.�

Draco shook his head. �I only have one act to go, and then I�ll be done. Just come in.�

�Damien � �

�For me, please. I won�t be able to concentrate knowing you�re out here too ashamed of me to come watch me work.�

Hermione straightened at once, shocked. �I�m not ashamed of you!� she denied.

�Well, then what�s the big deal?�

�I just don�t want to come in. I feel weird, like I�m smothering you.�

�You aren�t smothering me.�

�None of the other blokes have their girlfriends here every night,� Hermione pointed out.

�Or boyfriends.�

�Or boyfriends. That�s not the point.�

Draco took another step toward her, one hand keeping the door open behind him. �Could you please just come inside so we can talk about this? You may be impervious to the cold, but I�m freezing my balls off out here.�

Hermione held her ground on the opposite side of the alley for a moment longer, and then, as a shiver shook his thinly-clad body, she crossed to the door and pushed him into the warmth of the back hallway. He pulled her in with him.

�Fine, I�m inside. Are you happy now?�

�Yes. Thank you,� he said, and he kissed her.

As he led her back to his dressing room, she asked him, �You don�t really think I�m ashamed of you, do you?�

Draco shrugged, and Hermione wondered if she�d been manipulated.

�You don�t, do you?�

�I might,� he tried.

It was on the tip of her tongue to call him a sneaky Slytherin, but she kept it to herself.

He pushed open the door for her and she stepped inside, with him just behind. The lights were dim in the dressing room, but not so dim that she couldn�t see the roses littering every surface, scattered through with small, twinkling candles. Two wine glasses, half-full of a pale, bubbling drink, sat on his dressing table.

�What�s all this?� she asked, surprised.

�Guess.�

Hermione shook her head. �I�ve no idea.�

Draco looked inordinately pleased with himself. �You know what today�s date is?�

�The tenth of October.�

�Right.�

Hermione waited for another hint, but Draco watched her in silence, his face expectant.

�I�m sorry,� she said at last. �What�s so special about today?�

Draco led her over to the wine glasses and handed her one.

�Two months ago, to the day, you walked into my life.�

�Oh,� she stuttered, shocked at how much time had passed, but pleased that he�d remembered. �Really?�

Draco rolled his eyes at her reaction. �Yes, really.�

�And you set all of this up before you convinced me to come inside.�

�Of course.�

�Of course. How did you know I would come in?�

�I just knew.� Draco shrugged, a knowing smirk trembling at the corners of his lips. �I can be very persuasive.�

Hermione snorted.

�So, what do you think?� He gestured to the decorations.

�All of this for two months?�

�Wait and see what I have planned for three months,� he grinned.

An intense longing overwhelmed her. Oh, how she wanted to see what he had planned for three months. She closed her eyes and envisioned another month with Draco, and then another, and another, until the months piled up into years and years turned into decades. Before she could stop them, she was assailed by visions of an impossible future. Desperation clawed up her throat and she took a long sip of the champagne to cover the violent swing of her emotions.

Draco wouldn�t forgive her. She�d come to this conclusion after spending many sleepless nights memorizing his face. It had been too long. If she�d only told him in the beginning, it would have been better. But then he would never have fallen in love with her.

She was rational on some level that the reason she was dragging her feet in attempting to break the charm was with the hopes that he would be enough in love with her to forgive her. But now she recognized again the folly of that reasoning.

Her hand closed around the locket that rested in the hollow of her throat. Inside of it were two of the photo booth pictures from her birthday. In one picture, she and Draco were side-by-side, their cheeks pressed together, their faces shining with happiness. In the other, he was touching her face with his fingertips, and they gazed into each other�s eyes with a look that was almost embarrassing in its intensity.

�You�re too good to me,� she managed at last, her throat tight with unshed tears.

Draco stepped closer and plucked the glass out of her hand. His breath was soft on her face as he shook his head. �Not possible,� he disagreed, and then he brushed his fingers along her jaw. �Why do you look so sad?�

Hermione smiled brightly. �I�m not sad. Just overly emotional. This is lovely.� And then she closed the distance between them and hugged him, her face buried in his shoulder. Her lungs seized up and her breath caught in her throat. She was afraid if she breathed out, it would escape as a sob.

Draco tipped her face up and kissed her, and everything inside came unknotted. She couldn�t remember why she was unhappy when his lips brushed against the corner of her mouth, on the delicate dip above her upper lip, the sensitive pout of her bottom lip.

�I�m due onstage in five minutes,� he murmured against her mouth. �We can come back here after or go out, if you like.�

�Go out,� Hermione answered at once. �Not that this isn�t beautiful and thoughtful and very sweet � � Draco�s smile grew with each new description. � � but I�d imagine you�d rather like to be shot of this place for the day, and � and I would as well.�

�Alright. We�ll go out. Come watch?� He nodded toward the door. �I always dance better when I know you�re watching.�

She didn�t especially feel like watching him strip, but she went along with him anyway, deciding she would wait until he was onstage, and then she would turn her back, and perhaps cover her ears and close her eyes until it was over.

Draco looked pleased when she came without argument. He felt for her in the dark, and his hand found her face. He pulled her in for a quick kiss, and then he slipped onto the stage.

She meant to turn away but there was something she wanted to see first. It nagged at her, not knowing what he was saying before he started dancing. It was such a small thing, but it bothered her to not know. So she waited until the rear lights illuminated Draco in his standard pose, and then she focused on his lips. They moved too quickly for her to even begin to attempt to understand, and frustrated, she spun away just as he turned to the screaming audience.

She would ask him later.

***

It turned out that both Hermione and Draco were too worn out to wander the streets of Soho at midnight looking for something to do, and so after a brief stop at the little coffee shop from their first date, they strolled back to his flat sipping on hot cocoa. Draco also insisted on buying a large piece of chocolate cake for them to split once they reached his flat.

Once they�d finished their cake, Draco ran a hot bath. His bathtub was narrow but deep, and there was enough room for the both of them so long as Draco leaned back against Hermione�s chest, nestled between her legs. The tub was full of fragrant bubbles which came up to her shoulders, and when combined with the warm weight of Draco against her, lulled her into sleepy complacency. With a soft flannel, she washed his chest and arms, and enjoyed the feeling of his skin, slick with water.

He turned his head on her shoulder, the tips of his hair dipping into the bubbles, and closed his eyes. She squeezed the excess water from the flannel and swiped a corner of it on the tip of his nose. He smiled, face peaceful.

If only it had been like this at Hogwarts, when they both had access to that lovely bath in the prefect�s bathroom.

�What are you smirking at?� Draco asked, and Hermione directed her gaze down to find his eyes open and watching her with sleepy interest.

�Not anything, really. Just thinking about you.�

That night, when Hermione dreamed, she found herself in the prefect�s bathroom with Draco, splashing around in the vast tub of water while Moaning Myrtle watched on in anguish.

�Naughty girl!� Myrtle kept screaming. �Playing with boys you ought not to play with!�

The tub of water grew larger and larger until the sides disappeared and Myrtle�s shouts couldn�t reach her. She reached for Draco and then realized that she was alone in the middle of a huge, black sea. The waves crashed against her and knocked her head under the water, and the current tugged at her legs. When she pulled her head above the water, the sky overhead was churning with angry storm clouds.

Her arms and legs grew heavy with cold and exhaustion, but she kept swimming, hoping she would find someplace to rest. Throat burning with the tang of salty water, she struggled to surface after a fierce wave drove her deep into the black abyss, and when she came up again, she spotted a shape in the distance, and swam for it. It loomed larger and larger until Hermione began to distinguish the algae-covered stone walls of a massive castle on a rocky island.

No, not a castle, a fortress. There were bars on the windows, and a host of black-shrouded figures waited for her on the shore, their breath rattling in their throats. The guards of Azkaban were waiting for her to come home.

One of them stepped forward, arms outstretched, and called out in Draco�s voice, �Jane!�

Hermione gasped, and her eyes flew open. She winced at the bright morning light streaming through the window.

�Bad dream?�

She looked up and saw Draco hovering over her, his face anxious. With a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and nodded.

�Horrible.�

�What was it about?�

�I can�t remember,� she lied. �Did I wake you?�

�Not really.� He settled onto his side next to her and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. �I was going to wake you up soon anyway. It�s almost eleven.�

Hermione rolled onto her side to face him, the memory of the nightmare already fading. �Big plans for me today?�

He shrugged. �Not really. Unless there�s something you wanted to do.� His voice was thick with innuendo.

She pretended to think about it for a moment. �Nope, nothing.�

�Oh, right. Then you won�t mind if I just � � He tilted his head forward and replaced his thumb with his lips.

�No, I don�t mind,� she murmured into his mouth. Then her lips became too occupied to talk, and any thoughts of continuing the conversation were replaced with other, more interesting thoughts.

As Draco slipped the worn t-shirt off over her head, his hands skimmed her sides with just the right amount of pressure. How well he knew her body now, and what she liked. And she was so attuned to him. She thought, perhaps, if he tried, he could make her orgasm with just a look and a promise.

But he liked to draw out her pleasure, until she was begging for him to take her, to claim her and make her his. And then he would be pleased to oblige.

But this time, as Draco removed her panties, she could tell that he wasn�t in the mood to play those games with her. He slid up her body, his hands ghosting trails along her sensitive thighs, and then he was inside her.

He spent a long moment placing a path of light kisses down her neck, which she arched, and then his mouth was on hers, and the kiss was slow and sensual. She molded her body to his, and they fit together like two pieces of a half that had been split asunder.

Afterward, they collapsed against each other in a pile of languid limbs. Feeling sated and happy, Hermione slid off Draco and stretched out on her back next to him. For a long time, they didn�t talk, but then the blissful somnolence lifted from her brain, and she remembered she meant to ask Draco something.

�Damien,� Hermione asked, turning on her side to look at him. He was on his back, his head nearly buried in the pile of pillows.

Without opening his eyes, he responded, �Yeah?�

Hermione hedged, not quite sure how to word the question that had been gnawing at her for weeks. Draco opened his eyes and rolled his head toward her as she hesitated, and he gazed at her through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

She reached out to trace his lips with her fingertips, and he smiled at her touch. �What is it � � she began, then stopped. She tried again. �What is it you always whisper to yourself before you start your act?�

Draco chuckled. �That�s my curious girl. Always needs to know everything.� He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. Then he closed his eyes. �It�s a prayer,� he said.

�A prayer?� Hermione repeated.

�I always say, �Please, dear God, let this be the last time. Let me remember so I don�t have to do this anymore�.�

Feeling her eyes grow moist, she nodded. �So you don�t have to strip anymore,� she clarified.

�Yeah,� he sighed, turning and propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at her. �Every time I go out there, I think, maybe I�ll remember my life, you know, before this, and I�ll be able to go back to it.�

Not trusting herself to speak, Hermione caressed his cheek.

Draco sighed. �And, you know, it�s not a bad job. I don�t have to work hard, I don�t have to get up early, and the money is good� it�s just � I feel� like � I don�t know, I�d rather do something else.�

�But you always seem like you really enjoy it,� Hermione said.

�Maybe I should try my hand at being an actor, then.�

�Maybe.�

�I don�t know,� Draco said with a gusty sigh. �What if I never remember? What if I�m stuck doing this forever?�

�You won�t be doing this forever.� Hermione wanted to reassure him as much as she wanted to reassure herself. �Not when you�re working on you�re A-levels. Not when you�ve got plans to go to university afterward.� Not when I�m going to help you regain your memories. For all the good it would do him. �I�m sure you�ll find something that you enjoy doing.�

�I enjoy you,� Draco said, looking thoughtful.

�Yes, but you can�t do me the rest of your life.�

�Why not?�

�Don�t be silly.� Hermione rolled onto her back and turned her head to glance at the clock. �Do you want lunch?� she asked, desperate to change the subject.

�Yeah,� Draco drawled, accepting the subject change. �But I don�t feel like making anything. There�s the caf� up the street, you want to go there?�

�I could make us something,� she offered, swinging her legs off the bed. Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She landed half on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

�Where do you think you�re going?� he asked, pushing her hair out of his face.

�To make lunch,� she replied, leaning closer to capture his lips in a brief, soft kiss.

�You have to get out of bed for that?� he murmured, releasing his hold on her.

�Generally, yes.� She climbed out of bed and found his t-shirt in a rumpled pile on the floor, and slipped it over her head. When she reemerged from the shirt, Draco was watching her with a pleased smile on his face. �What?� she asked.

�This feels right.�

�You�re still being silly,� she said, smiling, before she turned and left the bedroom. She went into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub, and wrapped her arms around herself, finally letting the impact of his words smash into her.

Her birthday had come and gone, and yet here Draco sat, not knowing who he was. No matter how long she waited around, the truth of the matter was she was the only one who could attempt to trigger his memories and give him back what was left of his former life. But what sort of life would he have if she succeeded? Would he run, go into hiding? Or be locked away in Azkaban, never seeing the light of day again? She didn�t think she could bear for either of those scenarios to happen.

Wiping away a stray tear, Hermione stood up and glanced at herself in the mirror. Unhappy with the person looking back at her, she looked away and hurried down the hall to the kitchen.

She discovered quickly, however, that Draco�s kitchen was low on food, and she stood in front of the open refrigerator, the cool air chilling her bare legs. Draco ambled into the kitchen behind her, tying the sash of his dressing gown.

�You have no food,� Hermione observed.

�What do you mean, I have no food?� Draco stepped up next to her and peered into the refrigerator, which was nearly empty, save a half-eaten jar of pickles, an empty container of milk, and an old squeeze bottle of mustard. �Damn, I meant to go to the market yesterday,� he muttered.

�I�ll run down to the caf� and pick us up something,� Hermione said, closing the refrigerator. She turned and tried to leave the kitchen, but Draco blocked her way. He pulled her into his arms.

�No, I�ll go. It�s my flat, so I�ll go. You stay here.�

Hermione squirmed in his embrace. �But I�m the one who offered to make lunch, so I�ll go, and you stay here.�

Draco tightened his hold. �Make lunch, not buy it. It isn�t your fault that there�s no food in my house. It�s mine. I�ll go.� He leaned down to steal a kiss, but Hermione turned her head playfully.

�The only reason you�re out of food is because you were too busy thinking of me to go to the market, so I�ll go.� Hermione stretched her pinned arms, wiggling her fingers free. She directed them to his sides, which she knew were very ticklish. He yelped, twisting under her attack.

�That�s not fair, engaging in guerilla warfare like that!� he protested, laughing.

�What, by tickling you?� Hermione said with an innocent smile, spinning out of his grasp as he squirmed to get away from her tickling fingers. She darted out of the kitchen, running back to the bedroom.

Draco pursued her, exclaiming, �Oh, no, you don�t!� She flung open the partially closed bedroom door and danced across the room, trying to pick up her jeans as she went. Draco tackled her from behind and they tumbled onto the bed, giggling.

�That was cheap, just then. Tickling me to get away,� Draco scolded her, his arms pinning her next to him.

�It worked, though,� she pointed out.

�Apparently not,� Draco countered, �seeing as I�ve got you trapped again. And all you managed to do was put yourself right back where I wanted you.�

�And where is that?� she asked, playing along.

�Right here in my bed,� he stated. �So I can do this.� He nuzzled her hair away from her neck using his nose, and then he kissed the back of her neck.

�Now who�s using guerilla warfare?� Hermione gasped as he did it again, making her skin tingle.

�Me,� he said proudly. He rolled her over in his arms, leaning in for a kiss.

There was a loud knock on the door to the flat.

Draco groaned in protest. With a small kiss to the tip of her nose, he released her. �Don�t even think of trying to leave,� he warned, shaking a finger at her as he climbed off the bed and headed for the front door.

Once Draco was out of the room, Hermione gathered her knickers and jeans, slipping them on as quickly and quietly as possible. She heard Draco speaking with someone in the main room, and she tiptoed to the bedroom door to peer out. Not seeing anyone, she slipped down the short passage to the main room. Draco stood at the door, his back to her as he spoke with his landlord about his air conditioner. Neither man saw her as she retrieved her shoes and stuck her feet into them. Her coat was draped across the back of Draco�s sofa and she reached out to snatch it. After checking that her wallet was in one of the coat�s deep pockets, she approached the door.

Dearborn saw her before Draco, and for one moment, he looked surprised. He reached out to grab the doorframe and stared at her, openmouthed, until he composed himself with a quick shake. �Oh, I�m sorry, Damien,� he said, not taking his eyes from her. �I didn�t realize you had company.�

Draco turned and saw her fully dressed. His eyes sparkled with warning, and she grinned at him. �Yes.� Draco smiled in challenge as he beckoned her forward. �Mr. Dearborn, this is my girlfriend, Jane Granger. Jane, this is my landlord, Cary Dearborn.�

�Jane?� the landlord echoed, blinking. He stuck out his hand, which Hermione shook.

�A pleasure,� she said politely, wondering why he was staring at her so oddly.

�Charmed, I�m sure.� He released her hand. �Girlfriend, eh, Damien? You sly dog!� He stepped back from the door. �I didn�t mean to intrude.�

Hermione seized her chance, shooting Draco an impish look. �Oh, no, I was just about to step out for a few minutes.� She slipped past Draco into the corridor with Dearborn, turning to wave in farewell. Draco narrowed his eyes at her in challenge, the smile on his face promising retribution. She looked forward to it.

***

With a sack full of fish and chips, Hermione skipped up the stairs to Draco�s flat, glad to be back inside. Even though the caf� wasn�t far away, it was a dreary, cool day, and she was looking forward to crawling back into bed with Draco for a few more hours before he went to work.

She tried the knob, but found it locked. So that was his game, was it? She smiled at the message. You wanted to leave. Now you have to work for it to get back in. Trying to form an appropriately contrite expression, she knocked on the door and waited for him to open up.

When Draco yanked open the door, he looked wild-eyed and harried.

�Jane!� he exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. He grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly into the flat. He hugged her tight against his body and stroked her hair, his hand getting tangled in the curls. �Thank God you�re safe,� he murmured into her neck.

Confused and alarmed, Hermione pulled back and looked at his fearful face. �Why wouldn�t I be?� she asked, setting the sack of food on the table next to the door.

Draco pushed her further into the room, and then turned to the door, shutting it and locking it. He patted down his dressing gown as if he was searching for something before turning back to her, looking surprised to see her.

�What�s going on?� she asked, alert to the highly charged, almost electrical feeling in the air.

�Death Eaters, Jane!� Draco scolded, closing the distance between them. He grabbed her hand and dragged her further away from the door, and she stumbled, shocked. �And I can�t find my wand!�

Struck frozen with fear by his first words, Hermione�s mind began to function again. �What?� she managed.

�There are Death Eaters downstairs � �

Hermione gasped, feeling all the air leave her lungs in one rapid breath. She�d come right upstairs, not even thinking to check her safety. It had been so long since she�d needed to worry about being ambushed. She cursed herself as she bent over and reached for her wand, stored in her ankle harness.

� � Mother is holding them off, but I need to save her! There�s too many of them for her!�

Her fingertips just grazed the tip of her wand when she realized what he�d said. Still bent over, she looked up at Draco as he rushed around his flat, the dressing gown fluttering behind him. She straightened and watched as he began to search the sofa table, books and magazines flying through the air as he tossed them aside in his search. Coming up empty, he dove for the sofa, throwing aside the pillows and cushions in his haste.

�Where did I leave it?� he groaned, turning to look at his bookshelves.

As he started forward, Hermione followed on stiff legs, having been dreading this moment for weeks.

Draco began to pull books and picture frames and movies from the shelves, his hand sweeping back and forth as he felt in vain for his wand.

Hermione withstood the madness for a moment longer, unsure what to do, before at last throwing caution to the wind.

�Draco � � she began.

He gave a cry of anguish.

She took a few steps closer to him, terrified for him, and of him, at the same time.

�Draco,� she tried again.

He turned to look at her, though his eyes focused not on her, but something in the distance.

�Granger?� he questioned, looking surprised to see her. Dismissively, he turned away. He paused for a long moment, staring at a spot on the floor, before his head shot up, his eyes alight. He brushed past her, heading at a full run for his bedroom.

Hermione followed behind, torn between the dread and a hint of relief. At least she didn�t have to tell him. He�d remember all on his own, without her help. What would he do once he remembered?

Draco had thrown the pillows to the floor and was reaching for the black journal that had been hidden beneath them by the time Hermione caught up with him. She glimpsed the tip of the Hawthorn twig sticking out of it just before Draco grasped it in his hand with a cry of triumph.

Then he froze, his face falling. �No,� he muttered, �that isn�t it.� His face contorted with rage, and then despair. �Fuck!� he screamed, throwing the Hawthorn twig aside.

Hermione lingered in the doorway, knowing that when he regained his memories and saw her there, his reaction was not likely to be one of warm welcome. Then Draco dropped to his knees, balling his hands into fists as he covered his ears. He seemed to have forgotten her presence. He rocked jerkily, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.

�Please, please,� he sobbed. �Someone help me, please.�

Feeling her own eyes welling, Hermione closed the distance between them and dropped to the rug next to him. �Draco,� she whispered, horrified, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. His eyes flew open and he jerked as he saw her beside him.

�Please,� Draco whispered, looking terrified. �Please, you must help me.�

�Help you?� Hermione responded. �How? What can I do?�

�You�ve got to hide me. Dumbledore said there were ways to hide people so they could never be found,� he said in a rush, grabbing her shoulders. �Please, Granger. You must help me!�

She stared at his pale, tear-streaked face, and felt her head reel sickeningly. If not for his grip on her shoulders, she would have fallen.

�Help you?� she repeated. Her head began to throb. Guilt unlike anything she�d ever felt gripped her. This madness was breaking her heart and she at last felt her tears crest over her cheeks.

Here he was, asking for her help. All she had to do was tell him. It would be so easy: just open her mouth and tell him. Then, with any luck, he would break through the charm, the delusion would end, and he�d never forgive her.

�Please,� he breathed.

Unable to withstand the sight of his tears any longer, Hermione drew him into a hug. At first he tensed, but then he melted into her embrace, his arms going around her and holding onto her like his life depended on it.

She would never hold him like this again. He would hate her when he remembered who he was, even more so because she had waited so long to tell him, when with each passing day, it was another day of his life slipping away. She tightened her hold on him, burying her face into his neck and inhaling his comforting, familiar scent. She knew she would always smell him whenever she caught a whiff of Amortentia.

�Yes, of course I�ll help you,� she told him, her throat constricted with tears.

Draco relaxed in her arms, his shudders subsiding. �I knew you would,� he whispered.

Before she could lose her courage again, she took a deep breath and blurted, �Your name is Draco Malfoy.�

�I know that, Granger.�

�You�re a wizard.�

Draco pulled away from her and looked at her as though she�d lost her mind.

�We went to school together. My name isn�t Jane. It�s Hermione.�

�What are you playing at? Are you going to hide me or not? You promised to help!�

�I am � I am helping,� she stuttered. �Listen to me! Your name is Draco Malfoy. You�re a wizard. You can do magic. You�ve been Obliviated. You have to remember now!�

He stared at her for a long moment, something behind his eyes flickering. His searching gaze grew panicked, and he froze.

�What in the bloody hell�?�

Hermione tensed, waiting for the moment when everything came back to him. Her heart stuck in her throat, and she waited, unable to breathe, for his reaction.

�How in the � what am I doing here? What are you doing here? When did you get back?�

Poised to attempt to explain everything, Hermione faltered, stopped by his last question.

Draco looked troubled and his eyes darted back and forth as he stared at the state of the bedroom. Then he looked back at her, and there was horror on his face.

This was it then. She braced herself.

�I don�t remember � �

�What?� Hermione demanded.

�Oh, God. It�s happened again.�

�What?�

�I�m so sorry you had to see this, Jane.�

It was like a sucker punch to her gut. She exhaled in one mighty whoosh, breaking out into a clammy sweat.

He hadn�t broken through the charm.

Hermione paused for another moment, not sure if she felt relief that the charm was still in place, or disappointment. �Damien?� she ventured at last.

�Yeah?� he responded, pushing his sweaty fringe out of face without meeting her searching gaze, so he didn�t see her sag against his bed as he responded to the wrong name.

�Are � are you alright?�

Draco looked even more upset. �No, not really.�

Hermione hedged, feeling completely off-kilter. �Do you remember anything?�

He shook his head. �No, the last thing I remember is Dearborn leaving, and then� I was just � here. And you were here. I�m so sorry you had to see this.�

�But I � � Hermione tried, but then her throat closed up as bitter disappointment filled her mouth like bile. �What happened?�

�I don�t know.� He sounded miserable. �It�s only happened one other time, and that was� well, it doesn�t matter. Are you going to leave now?�

�Why would I leave?�

Draco opened his mouth, still looking at a spot on the floor off to her left, but then he closed it and shook his head.

�Look at this place,� he sighed. �It�s wrecked.�

Hermione caught the hint of dread in his voice. Thinking of the destruction he�d wrought in the main room, she quickly invented, �I think you were robbed while I was gone.�

�What?� he demanded, jumping to his feet.

�I knocked, but you didn�t answer. The door was unlocked, so I came in, and � � She broke off as he rushed past her, hurrying into the main room. She followed after him.

He was standing at the edge of the main room, just off the small corridor that led to the bedroom. �Fuck,� he breathed, looking around with a weary face.

Hermione stepped up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. �I�m glad whoever it was that did this didn�t hurt you,� she whispered.

He shook his head in disbelief, and then he rubbed his face before sighing and stepping closer to examine the damage. He knelt, rifling through the books he�d tossed from the sofa table. After a long moment, he looked over his shoulder at her, his face so pale it looked grey. His eyes looked like endless pools of churning murky water. �I don�t think I was robbed,� he said at last.

�No?� Hermione knelt next to him and grasped his icy hand as he reached for her. He squeezed her hand tightly, almost clinging to her. He was trembling.

�No,� he said after a lengthy pause. He took a deep breath and continued. �Jane, I think I�m losing my mind.�

Author's Notes:For updates on the writing process, cookies, and discussion, check out my yahoo group.

20

21

22

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Pound of Flesh