21. Chapter 21

Here we go. See you guys tomorrow as well. I'm correcting tomorrow's chapter right now. Then a break for a few weeks.

You guys are great.

Disclaimer: I still don't own HP

Draco and Hermione landed in Kingsley's office, stumbling slightly. Hermione immediately pulled her arm out of his grasp. She walked to the opposite side of the office, and leaned against a wall, avoiding his eyes. Draco let his eyes fall to the ground, trying to crush his emotions into the ground. He wouldn't let Potter see them.

"Malfoy," Potter greeted, forcing Malfoy to meet his eyes. The boy who lived was leaning on a desk at the front. He gave a curt nod, and let his eyes wander away, looking over the room.

They were all in Kingsley Shaklebolt's office. The minister of magic's office was much larger than Blaise's. It was a large office in comparison to anyone's office. One of the four walls, the wall behind the desk was purely windows, showing the muggle square below. The rest of the walls were covered in bookshelves, a collection almost as diverse as the Hogwarts Library. There was only one section not covered by books. There were giant doors opposite the windows. The doors of the archway were made of solid gold. Sketched in were the names of all the previous ministers. Draco could see the names Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour cut into the gold. Those doors were legend, a legacy in the wizarding world. They represent piece and sincerity, and the unified magical community. Draco knew for a fact that while Voldemort had taken over the ministry, the doors had been covered. The dark Lord had been unable to take the doors away, the magical protection of them was too strong. Draco's eyes wandered to the archway, reading the sketched in words. Fortius est vinculum magicas magicis unum aliquid affert. That was latin for "the only thing stronger than magic, is the bond magic gives us."

"Where are we?" Hermione asked, as Draco turned back towards her. Hermione's eyes were wandering over the books, widening in awe. She stepped forward and ran her hand over the spin of "The Latest Advancements in Wizardry." A low chuckle sounded from behind her.

"Hermione always goes straight to the books," came the calming voice of Kingsley Shaklebolt. The minister for magic walked in through the golden doors, closing them quickly behind them. Hermione turned to the auror, staring at him. The minister walked up and looked her over, happiness evident on his face.

"Welcome back, Hermione," he said solemnly.

Potter took this opportunity to butt in. "Kingsley, she has no idea who you are."

"I know," he replied, looking slightly crestfallen. "I still needed to say it."

"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione asked. "Who are you?"

"Kinglsey Shaklebolt, minister for magic," he said, bowing slightly. "It's excellent to see you again, Hermione."

Hermione looked stricken. "I know the minister for magic?"

Kingsley nodded. "We fought together in the war, and were good friends before you disappeared."

"Anyway, Hermione," Potter started. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No, you're magical wispy smoke deer thing wasn't very specific."

Kingsley turned to Harry. The minister for magic was biting back a chuckle. "Magical wispy smoke deer thing?"

"She means my patronus," said Potter, looking amused himself at Hermione's view on magic.

"What's a patronus?" Hermione asked, interested.

"It's a type of defence…." Draco tried to explain, but Hermione cut him off.

"I believe I asked Harry, Malfoy," she snapped. Draco's heart turned to ice at the renewed used of his last name.

Potter looked over the pair curiously. "What happened between the two of you?"

Hermione sent him a glare. Potter visibly gulped.

"Malfoy held back some information regarding my past," she said, her voice low and dangerous. Draco thought she was going to explode again.

"What information?" Potter asked, worry covering his features now.

"A memory," she said softly, averting her eyes to the floor.

"A memory?!" Potter stuttered. His eyes bulged out. The boy wonder looked shocked for a moment, before turning to Draco.

"She remember something?" Draco nodded slowly. Potter started to turn red. "She remembered something and you didn't tell me immediately?" Draco nodded once more.

Potter huffed and started muttering under his breath. He ran a hand through his forever tangled hair. He turned back to Draco.

"Malfoy, I understand that a lot has changed since our school days. I understand that you're not as much as a stuck up, heartless, moronic evil git as you used to be. I understand that we sometimes engage in awkward yet somewhat polite conversations. I understand all that." Potter took a deep breath, seemingly calming himself. He didn't succeed.

Instead, he exploded.

"I don't understand this! I don't understand why you didn't bring Hermione back immediately! I don't understand why you act like you care what happens to her! I don't understand why you didn't tell me the second her memory came back! That's what we want, isn't it? Or are you so heartless that you don't care about giving her life back to her? Do you just want to throw your friendship in her real friends' faces? What do you want?"

The chosen one huffed once more. His face was bright red after his rant. He was angrier than Draco had seen him in years. But Draco decided to answer his question.

"I didn't want her to remember," he said clearly.

The idea that looks could kill crossed Draco's mind. Potter looked murderous.

"THEN WHY DO YOU BRING HER BACK?!" he screamed. Everyone in the room flinched at this. Draco snuck a glance at Hermione. She met his gaze.

Her eyes weren't angry. They were pleading. They were confused. They were hurt. Tears were trailing down her face. Draco's heart fell as he watched a tear fall to the floor. He turned back to Potter and responded as calmly as possible.

"I didn't want to bring her back at first," he said, now avoiding Hermione's eyes. "When I was in Canada, Hermione was my only source of comfort. Our friendship was easy, caring, and perfect. She was there whenever I needed her, and vice versa. I've never had that before. I didn't want to give that up. But I couldn't be selfish with her. I care about her too much. She deserved her real life, full of amazing people who love her. I couldn't deprive her of that because of how I felt. So I brought her back."

Everyone in the room was frozen. Draco shot one more glance at Hermione. Her eyes were wide, but at least she had stopped crying. Draco continued.

"I don't want her to remember because I don't want for her to hate me. I couldn't bear it. And I know she will. But I thought I had more time. More time to be with Hermione before she hated me again. But the memory last night cut that short."

Potter seemed completely dumbfounded, but managed to ask, "What was the memory?"

Draco couldn't look at anyone. He addressed his shoes as he said, "the day at Malfoy Manor."

A soft oh escaped the boy who lived's lips. Draco looked up slowly. Potter no longer looked angry. He wasn't even looking at Draco. He was looking at Hermione.

She was clutching her body, with tears trailing down her face. Her gaze was averted to the floor. She was shivering slightly.

Potter walked over to his best friend and reached out a hand, seeming to comfort her, but she pulled away. She locked her shoulders in a defensive manner and glared at the boy who lived.

"How do you not care he's evil?" she said, slightly maliciously.

Potter turned back to Draco. "Malfoy?" he asked. She gave a curt nod. "He's not evil."

Draco smirked slightly. It turns out his strange relationship with Potter actually had changed the boy who lived perspective of him.

Hermione wasn't at all pleased with that response. "He worked with Voldemort!"

Potter nodded. "Yes, true. Draco's an egotistical, bigoted, idiotic, demeaning, degrading bastard. But he's not evil."

Hermione gawked. "Is there a difference?"

"A very large one," drawled the low voice of Kinglsey. Draco had almost forgotten he was in the room.

Hermione was fuming, but Kingsley didn't seem to care. "Hermione, I know you're upset, but right now, we need to talk about this memory."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright," Kingsley stated. The wizard walked over to where Hermione was standing and lead her to a chair in front of the desk. Potter conjured himself a chair and sat. Draco followed suit.

Kingsley sat at his desk for several moments before turning to Hermione. "Could you tell us about the memory?"

She huffed and proceeded. "Yesterday, Dra….Malfoy and I decided to get some food, so we went to the kitchen. On the way, we took some wrong turns and ended up at the drawing room."

At this, Draco saw Potter visibly stiffen.

"Malfoy was freaking out. He seemed terrified of this place," Hermione continued. "So I went into the room. I always try and face a fear head on. When I got in, Draco started screaming. I thought he was crazy. He grabbed me and rushed out of the room. He fell to the floor crying."

The other two men in the room eyed Draco. "I had visions of my aunt," he explained. They nodded: no further explanation was required.

Hermione was steadily avoiding his eyes. She was staring at the chipped corner of Kinglsey's wooden desk.

"Hermione?" Kingsley pushed. "We need to know the rest of the story."

She nodded curtly and continued. "We went back upstairs and I asked him what had happened. He said memories. Then he…..left. I went to bed, and fell asleep easily. But then the nightmare started."

Hermione cut off suddenly. Draco looked over in concern. She had broken down. Her head was in her hands, and she was bawling. Draco looked to Potter for an idea of how to proceed. But when he caught look of the boy who lived's face, he lost that thought.

The word agony didn't seem to suffice. Maybe unending, eternal, tormenting agony might suffice. The chosen one was hurting terribly from watching Hermione tears. His eyes were burning as if he was suffering under the weight of one thousand cruciatus curses. Potter was obviously in such pain from seeing Hermione in pain. Draco knew why. The martyr forever.

"Potter," Draco said slowly, unsure of how to proceed. That was becoming his life mantra. "It's not your fault."

"Goddamn it Malfoy!" He shouted, jumping up from his recently conjured chair. "You don't know anything! Of course it's my fault!"

Kingsley stood up and walked over to Potter. The minister seemed to be trying to calm him down. The minister was failing. Potter started yelling again.

"Hermione is my best friend, and I love her so much. I have never been able to protect her! At the manor, I was stuck in the basement as I heard her scream. Seven years ago, I was too busy rejoicing to think about maybe, not everyone would be happy about Voldemort falling."

The saviour took a breath, which allowed Draco to interrupt.

"You aren't a seer Potter, you can't predict everything. How were you supposed to know? Bad things happen. No one can stop them. But everyone can move on from them."

"Do you even know how she disappeared?" Potter blurted out.

Draco was taken aback. "She was kidnapped, wasn't she?"

"Yes, but beyond that."

Draco thought for a moment, and shook his head. He didn't know any real specifics about the case. He had asked Blaise, but the auror always gave very vague answers. Draco thought that they just didn't know that much.

"The night she disappeared," Potter sighed, slumping back down onto his chair. "She came over to my house."

Draco leaned forward. Hermione had been at Potter's house that night?

"Before the war, Hermione had taken away her parents memories, and sent them to Australia to be safe from the war. That's what she told us. And it's true. But she left out one detail. She left an Australian witch to watch over them, just in case."

Draco hadn't known this, but wasn't necessarily surprised. Hermione was one to always have a back-up plan.

"The night she disappeared, she got a letter from this witch, telling her that her parents had been killed in a car crash."

Draco's jaw dropped. Hermione's parents were dead?

"They were killed by a drunk driver. No magic involved. Just a normal, muggle death. That's what this witch told her."

Potter took a moment to collect himself. "The night she disappeared, she came to the house I was staying at, bawling her eyes out. She was grief-stricken. When she came through the floo-network, she didn't know I had company at the time."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Something in Potter's tone had changed.

"Who was there?" he asked. Potter sighed in defeat.

"Ron."

"So?" Draco said, a bit of spite in his voice. Hermione and Ron were involved at the time. Why should that matter?

Potter avoided his eyes. "Ron and I were arguing, and then Hermione walked in, tears running down her face, and Ron exploded."

Draco fought between the urge to roll his eyes and punch the wall. He ended up just responding.

"His girlfriend walks in crying, and he yells at her?" he asked disbelievingly.

"They weren't really…..ummmm, anyway," Potter stuttered, trying to change the subject, but Draco caught on.

"What?" Draco asked, even more disbelief in his voice. "They weren't together?"

Potter closed his eyes, and shook his head. Draco's jaw dropped. Now he was stuttering.

"But….Weasel was like….talking about being together…..funeral…speech…."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Ron has always been one to…...exaggerate the truth."

Draco nodded, trying to hide the tap dance his heart was now doing.

"Anyway, back to the original question, he yelled at her?" Draco asked, thirsting for the answer. He noticed Hermione and Kinglsey were clinging onto every word as well.

"Yes, he yelled at her," Potter said tightly. "It made sense in context, kind of."

"What was the context?"

"Unimportant," Potter said, dismissing it. Draco noted he dismissed it nervously. There was more to that story.

"So what happened?"

"Hermione broke down even more, and Ron just left." Potter began twitching very nervously. "She came over to me and told me everything, and I…yelled at her."

Before anyone realized what was happening, Potter was on the ground, sporting a brilliant bloody nose. Draco was standing above him, white hot rage covering his features.

"You yelled at her?" Draco asked murderously. "After her parents had died, and she came to you crying, you fucking yelled at her?"

"It made sense in context," Potter replied weakly, raising his arms to defend his face.

"I don't give a damn about context!" Draco yelled. "You were her best friend! Not even I would have done that, and she hated me back then!"

Draco rose his arm once more, but before he could sock the git in the face, he found himself flying through the room, hitting the opposite wall. He crashed into a bookshelf, and fell to the floor, wincing.

Kingsley was pointing his wand at Draco. The minister of magic walked up to Potter and helped him stand back up. He pointed his wand at Potter's bloody nose, and muttered, "episky." Potter's nose healed itself.

Draco got to his feet. He walked back over to where the other three were.

"Harry," Kingsley stated. "Finish the story. No violence, Draco."

The blonde nodded curtly and turned to glare at the boy who lived.

Potter gingerly touched his nose, and winced slightly. He sighed and lowered his hand. He leant against the desk and stared at the floor before continuing the story.

"I yelled at her, but like I said, it made sense in context. It still wasn't good, but, I can't take it back now. Hermione just stared at me blankly. She had gone completely white. She turned and stormed out of the door. That was the last time I ever saw her. The next day, Arthur Weasley came over and told me what happened. I wanted to be in charge of the case for the auror department, but I was too young."

Draco interrupted. "But Blaise runs it now, and he started the same time as you. Why does he have it?"

Potter glared at a spot on the floor. "Because of my argument with Hermione, I was considered a witness and suspect for a little bit."

"You were considered a suspect?" Draco asked, shocked.

He nodded. "Only for a little while. Because of my direct involvement with the case, I wasn't allowed to take it over. So they gave it to Blaise. They were doing as a favour to me, I'm friends with Blaise so I could know exactly what was going on. There are perks that come with being the chosen one."

Draco processed this for a moment.

"What did older Weasel tell you?"

Potter shot a glance at Hermione before continuing. "He came to my house in the morning. I was exceptionally hung-over, so I was exceptionally grumpy when Arthur came running in."

"Why were you hung-over?" Draco asked.

Potter gave him a look of disdain. "Because I drank too much, moron."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why did you drink too much?"

Potter avoided his eyes. "None of your business," he snapped. "Anyway, Arthur came in. His face was completely white. I asked him what was wrong, and he demanded when the last time I had seen Hermione was. I told him vaguely of our fight the night prior. He told me that Hermione was missing."

Potter closed his eyes. "Apparently, that night, she ended up in Hogsmeade. She had been staying at Hogwarts to help with the clean-up. She apparently ran into the Three Broomsticks crying, and demanded firewhiskey. The way Madame Rosmerta tells it, she drank nearly the entire bottle. She ended up stumbling out the door about an hour afterwards. That was the last time anyone ever saw her."

"What did you say to her?" Draco demanded.

"It's not important," Potter dismissed. He motioned to Hermione. "Wasn't Hermione telling us about her memory returning?"

Kingsley nodded. He looked to Hermione, urging her to continue the story she was giving a few minutes prior. Draco wasn't really paying attention.

He was watching Potter. There was more to this story, Draco just knew it. Potter's tone had been different. There had been something strange about the entire situation. Potter would never yell at Hermione. He only knew them to be in a fight once, way back in third year. Weasel and Potter had ganged up on her for something, he couldn't remember. What had happened that night?

What was the bloody context?

Hermione leant back in her chair. Her tears had dried, and she seemed much calmer than when she had tried telling the story the first time. She ran a hand through her tangled hair and began speaking once more.

"The memory, I guess, came back to me as a nightmare. I thought it was only a nightmare. I was in the drawing room of the manor. I was on the floor as this woman stood in front of me. She kept on pointing her wand at me and saying things. It hurt so much. The thing that stood out for me was a face in the background. Draco was there."

Hermione shot him a look. Their eyes made contact for the briefest second before hers were directed at the floor once more.

"I was screaming, and he just stood there, watching me. That hurt more than the actual physical torture. Just having him do nothing to help me, was painful. The bitch hit me with another curse, I guess, when I woke up."

From there, a faint blush rose onto Hermione's features. She gave him a covert glance. She gave him a covert look that Potter caught. The boy who lived raised his eyebrow at Draco.

"I heard her screaming," he stated simply. "So I went and woke her up. She was really scared and freaked out."

"And?" Potter pressed on.

Draco felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "She told me what the nightmare was about. I knew immediately. But I couldn't tell her it was real because of how scared she was. So I just calmed her down."

Draco suddenly realized why Hermione was blushing. Oh shit, he thought. He could feel his cheeks starting to heat a bit. Nonononono…

Potter noticed. "And Draco?"

He avoided everyone's eyes. "She asked me to stay with her."

"In the room?" Potter asked dumbly.

"Not necessarily….." he said vaguely, when he heard a voice.

"In her bed," the voice said angrily. Draco turned to the door.

Fucking Weasel.

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