27. Chapter 27

Same old, same old. Here we go.

Disclaimer: No

Draco and Hermione stood holding each other for who knows how long. Draco was completely blissful. He didn't know what his relationship with Hermione was, but at the moment, he didn't care. As long as he could keep holding her, he knew everything was going to be ok.

And sometimes, ok was wonderful.

After a while, Draco pulled away from her and took out his wand. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Draco carried on. He pointed his wand at her robes, and muttered a quick spell. The robes patched themselves up from where Draco had ripped them open. He did the same to himself. Hermione nodded, understanding.

Draco held out his hand. She reached out and took it without hesitation. They turned and walked across the pitch and back up towards the castle. They didn't exchange any conversation. They didn't need to. They just enjoyed themselves.

Draco was very happy, but he knew from experience that it didn't usually last. And soon enough, Draco felt worry clawing at his stomach. There was something new to worry about.

Hermione had remembered yet another memory. And yet again, it wasn't a good one.

The drawing room, punching him in the face, the first time he had called her mudblood, why had Hermione chosen to protect these memories? They weren't good memories, they weren't important; they weren't even big parts of her life. And they had nothing in common. Why was Hermione such mystery? Both now and then.

Draco snuck a glance at her. She was staring lazily at the castle looming above them. What was she thinking? Draco wondered. About Hogwarts, about this world, and about him. What did he mean to her? And would it last once they got her memories back? Draco felt like it might: she knew about the drawing room and still would be in his presence. Maybe she'd still like him afterwards.

But then again, he'd been wrong before.

Hermione and Draco arrived at the entrance courtyard of Hogwarts. It was early evening by then.

Draco quickly thought over their next plan of action. "We need to get to Mcgonagall. Kingsley might've contacted her."

Hermione nodded. "Where is she?"

Draco shrugged. "What time is it?"

Hermione pointed up to the clock tower. 5:30. Fuck. Draco laughed humourlessly.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "We've put so much effort into not being mobbed today, and our only option to get to Mcgonagall is to storm into the Great Hall during dinner time. Of course. Only us."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, you are one for dramatics. But surely, this can't be our only option."

Draco glared at the ground. "It probably isn't. But I'm too tired to figure out a better option right now. So this is what we're going with."

Hermione laughed. "Well, I'll follow you anywhere."

Draco started. He looked at her intensely. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded. "You know I do. Who else could I follow? You brought me back. I still don't remember squat, but thank you. I know it would mean a lot to old me."

Draco shook his head. "There is no old you. There is no magical you. There is no muggle you. Sure, you're different in different situations than you would be with your memory. But there is only you, Hermione. There has only ever been you."

For Draco had finally realized something incredible. In the last few weeks, he had seen Hermione in tons of different ways. There was magical Hermione, muggle Hermione, Potter's Hermione, his Hermione and the Hermione standing before him. There was no difference between them. Draco had thought earlier that being in the magical world had changed Hermione, made her braver. He had thought that she wasn't like that when she was a muggle. But he was wrong. She was always just Hermione. She was always Hermione Granger, whether it was on the battlefield or in a Tim Hortons on Young. There was no difference. Draco had to stop thinking of all the Hermiones as different. He hadn't fallen for one of them.

He had fallen for all of them, and all of her.

Hermione blinked a few times, and smiled. With that, they walked into the entrance hall. Draco took a deep breath, and opened the doors to the Great Hall.

To say that all eyes turned to them would be a massive understatement. All eyes did turn to them, but all conversation also stopped, and all jaws dropped. Draco saw Hermione visibly stiffen, but he took her hand, and she loosened up. Without making any eye contact with anyone, Draco pulled Hermione up the middle aisle between the two centre tables.

They soon made it up to the high table. Draco saw Professor Flitwick trying not to laugh at their dramatics, while Professor Slughorn had a spoon hanging out of his mouth. Mcgonagall was sitting in the Headmistress' chair, her face disbelieving at their dramatics.

"Was that really necessary?" she hissed as they approached her.

Draco shrugged. "We needed to talk to you. Has Kingsley been in touch?"

Mcgonagall rolled her eyes and nodded reluctantly. She reached into her robes and pulled out a letter. She handed it to Draco, who opened it immediately.

It read:

Mr. Malfoy,

I believe you have found the answer. I cannot believe I didn't think about it before. A memory block seems exactly like something Hermione would do. I want to hear how your Hogwarts visit went, so I ask that you, Miss Granger, and your mother all join the burrow for dinner tonight. If you're not aware, the burrow is the Weasley home. Mr. Potter will be there as well.

You can apparate over. See you at 6.

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Draco pursed his lips. Dinner with the Weasleys. Draco wondered what Kingsley had to do to convince Weasel that this was a good idea. The minister probably just didn't mention it. That was probably safer.

He wondered how many times he was going to be cursed tonight. He'd probably be challenged to a duel the second he set foot on the property. Potter might have his back, but it was doubtful. Draco couldn't see a single way this would work out.

However, he really needed to talk to Kingsley. Potter would want to be involved, and they were all going to be there. Mama Weasley would probably stop her son from trying to decapitate him. And Hermione would want to go. Fuck. There was his decision right there.

Draco was going to dinner with the Weasleys.

"I might join you later on," Mcgonagall said, taking a sip from a chalice. Draco relaxed. Mcgonagall wouldn't let anyone decapitate him.

"Alright. It's about five thirty now, so we should head home and collect my mother," Draco summarized. He appreciated that Kingsley had invited his mother. She'd like that.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, thank you for visiting Hogwarts. I hope the visit helped," Mcgonagall said, eyeing Hermione.

"It did, Professor," Hermione answered, smiling. So polite. She turned to Draco. "Are we going now?"

"In a minute," he replied, an idea forming in his head. "I just need to do something." With that Draco turned around and faced the one thousand students still gaping at them.

"Students of Hogwarts!" Draco addressed the crowd. Why was he doing this? "My name is Draco Malfoy, and this is Hermione Granger. I am sure you have heard of us. I'm sure you read about us this morning in the paper. I went to Hogwarts, I know how fast information travels in the school. However, gaping is not only rude, but pointless. When spying/observing people, you do not gape. You watch out of the corner of your eye. You stalk by hiding behind posts. You do not stand in the middle of a courtyard watching. That is pointless. So, children. Next time you have an opportunity to stalk people, be more subtle about it."

With that, Draco tightened his grip on Hermione and walked back down the aisle. Hundreds of students were still gaping at them. Oh well. They will learn.

When they reached the door, Draco turned once more to address the crowd.

"And to whoever put the gnomes in all the girls' lavatories, well done. Well done indeed."

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione and Draco arrived back at the manor. They quickly hurried up the grounds and into the manor. They then ran to the library, where Narcissa was reading.

She looked up as they ran in.

"How was Hogwarts?"

Draco smiled at his mother. "It was….fun. We did some exploring, met up with some old friends. We talked to Mcgonagall. And then we got invited to the Weasleys for dinner."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "The Weasleys invited you to dinner? Good luck, my son."

Draco snorted. "Not just us. You as well."

Narcissa looked stricken, but composed herself quickly. She stood up and smoothed down her robes. "Well, we are civilized people, and when someone invites us to dinner. We accept graciously." Draco almost laughed.

Hermione turned to Draco. "Could I put on some jeans or something?" Draco shrugged, and whipped out his wand. He quickly transfigured her robes into a pair of jeans, with a green tank top and converse. Hermione smiled her thanks.

Draco then pointed his wand at himself and transfigured his robes into a pair of jeans and a black t shirt.

His mother transfigured her robes into a dark green dress. She looked at them all.

"I don't think today's a day for wizard robes." They all nodded in agreement.

"Oh!" Narcissa suddenly exclaimed. "I was making cookies this afternoon. I should bring them for the Weasleys, as a sort of, peace offering."

Draco nodded. This was a good idea.

Together, they walked down to the kitchen to collect Narcissa's cookies. Draco couldn't believe the situation they were about to willingly walk into. They were going to the Weasleys', when they all were aware that the Weasley's hated the Malfoys. This went way back as well: their ancestors had been enemies as well. Weasel wanted Draco's head on a stick. And yet, they were happily going to dinner with them.

They were even bringing cookies.

Draco was only doing this because he needed to talk to Kingsley. And Potter. He probably should talk to Potter as well. This memory block concept changed everything. They needed to figure out who had taken Hermione's memories. It was the only option they had left. It would take everything they've got, but it had to be done. It was for Hermione.

They arrived at the kitchen and Narcissa picked up her cookies. His mother put them in a box and turned back towards him and Hermione. She reached out her hand. Draco took it, while Hermione clasped his other hand.

"To the burrow," Narcissa said. With that, they apparated away.

They landed in a field filled with barley. He blinked a few times and noticed a house like structure a hundred metres away. It was sort of like a pigsty, with random rooms and floors added. Draco had seen a picture of this house once before in his life, but he had never actually been here.

So this was the Burrow.

Draco, Hermione and Narcissa walked up towards the burrow. In the yard outside the "house", there seemed to be some commotion going. As Draco walked closer, he began to understand.

The Weasel and his mother were going at it, while the rest of the Weasley clan, Potter, and Kingsley watched. Weasel and Mama were screaming, and Draco didn't need the confirmation to know what they were arguing about.

Him.

"Ronald, you are being a baby!" Mama shouted.

"Why the fuck are we allowing him into our home?! Our home!" The weasel responded.

"Draco has proved himself to us! If you don't believe me, I would hope that you believe Kingsley, and Harry!"

"He could have defeated Voldemort himself and I still wouldn't trust him! Why are we allowing him into our lives? What could he possibly be able to offer us?!"

"Well, Weasel," Draco said, strutting into the yard with Hermione and his mother. "I offer you sense, optimism and knowledge. Also, my mom brought cookies."

Before Weasel had a chance to respond, Mama Weasel had pushed him aside ad walked up to them with her arms spread wide. She pulled all three of them into a group hugs.

"Welcome to our home," she said, with a twinkle in her eye. Her eyes turned to Hermione first. "My darling, I've missed you so much. My name's Molly, and I still think of you as a daughter. I'm Ron's mother."

"Hello Molly," Hermione said, smiling.

Mama turned to Draco and Narcissa.

"I have not seen you two in years. Draco, you have turned into a strapping young man. And Narcissa, I don't think I've spoken to you since Hogwarts."

Narcissa smiled. "I don't think so. I've missed you, Molly. I brought cookies."

"You're sweetness," Mama replied, as she pulled Narcissa into a hug. Hmm. Draco had not known Molly and his mother knew each other.

"Hermione!" shouted several voices at once. It was George, older Weasley, and married to a veela Weasley, also known as oldest. They bounded across the lawn and pulled Hermione into a group hug. Draco smirked. While Hermione was getting hugged, Draco turned around and took in who else was there.

Kingsley was leaning on the house, smoking on a long pipe, watching them subtly. Potter was next to him, with his wife latched on to his shoulder. Binny? Finny? Bitchy? He could never remember Weaslette's actual name. Hagrid was standing to one side, having just been in conversation with Papa Weasley and Mcgonagall, who had shown up after all. Looney and Longbottom were sitting at a long table, observing the situation. Fleur, the veela was sitting at the table as well, holding a beautiful toddler in her arms. It had to be her daughter. Fleur was talking to Prissy Weasley. Draco looked around once more. That was everyone.

The Weasleys had let go of Hermione by then. Laughing, Hermione took a couple steps backwards, and turned to him. She held out her hand and Draco took it. Ignoring the shocked looks they got, Draco and Hermione joined the party.

Hermione turned to Draco. "Who are these people?"

Draco smiled. "All the gingers are family members of Weas….Ron. It's the Weasley family. This is their home. The blonde at the table is the wife of one of the Weasleys. Potter you know. Potter's ginger wife you know. Hagrid you know. Kingsley you know. The blonde talking to the Longbottom is named Luna. Don't get into a conversation with her about nargles. And yeah. Hermione, for all intents and purposes, this is your family."

Hermione smiled. "I spent time here?"

Draco looked around at this place that he would've never stepped foot in before. "All the time."

As Draco tried to decide who to talk to first, Mama Weasley walked out of the house, where she had been with Narcissa. She called out, in a booming voice:

"Supper! To the table!"

They all filed to the table quickly. Hermione ended up at the head of the table, with Draco on her right, and Potter on her left. Mama Weasley walked around the table and filled every glass with Ogden's Best Firewhisky. When she finally sat down, at the other head of the table, she picked up her glass to make a toast.

"To Hermione Granger: a spectacular witch, and an amazing woman. Everybody here thinks of you in a different way, but whether it be as a friend, sister, or daughter, you are loved. We are so happy that we have found you."

At this, Looney spoke.

"After all, the things we lose always find a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect." Looney raised her glass, and everyone followed.

Hermione blushed and looked down at her plate. Almost immediately, piles of food began flying out of the house and landed on the table. Everyone grabbed something and started passing the food around.

"So Draco," Kingsley asked, as he handed Mama Weasley a plate of bread rolls. "How was your trip to Hogwarts today?" The second those words exited the minister's mouth, everyone at the table turned and looked at Draco.

"Umm," Draco said, floundering. What could he tell them that didn't involve passionate make out sessions? "Well, it was good. It was good."

"Good?" Potter said, raising his eyebrows. "Do share."

Well fuck. "We…ummmmm….."

"Well, Draco showed me around the school," Hermione interrupted, taking a piece of chicken. "We went through the corridors, we went to the library, where we met Madame Pince. We went to the, what was it? Oh yes, the Gryffindor common room. Then we ran through the halls screaming and went to the Quidditch pitch. That's about it."

There was a stunned silence that followed Hermione's monologue. Draco rolled his eyes. These people probably thought that her ability to speak disappeared with her memory.

Potter laughed and turned his full attention to Hermione. "Ran through the halls screaming?"

Hermione chuckled, and burst into the story. All eyes were on her. Draco didn't have to participate, and frankly, who wanted him to?

So instead, he leant back and watched Hermione work her figurative magic.

It was incredible. Seven years had passed, and yet, especially with Hermione and Potter, nothing had changed. They all interacted with her so easily. It didn't matter that she didn't have any memories. They had all fallen in love with her because she was Hermione, not because of her experiences.

Draco wasn't participating in the conversation, which was now onto funny Canadian stories. No one was paying him any attention, which gave him the opportunity to observe everyone else.

Fleur, Older Weasley, Oldest Weasley, Prissy Weasley, George, Longbottom, Looney, Hagrid, Mcgonagall, Papa Weasley, Mama Weasley and Kingsley were fully involved in the conversation. They seemed to have gotten used to having Hermione back. Draco smiled. It made him happy that Hermione had such a loving group to go back to.

Draco turned his attention to Hermione's closest friends, to see how they were adapting to having Hermione back. Potter, Weasel and Weaslette. When Draco saw them, he just got confused.

Potter was listening to Hermione with a dazed expression on his face and an unknown emotion in his eyes. It was as if the rest of the world didn't exist, and to Potter, it probably didn't. He kept his eyes fixed on her, looking happier than Draco had ever seen him.

Weaslette was smiling the fakest smile Draco had ever seen, and Draco had seen many fake smiles in his lifetime. Her eyes were pissed. They were fixed on Potter, who was too busy being blissed out to notice his wife sending him daggers. Every few seconds, Weaslette's face would relax, as if she was happy to have Hermione back. But, seconds later, it turned fake once more, with her eyes fixed on her husband.

Weasel was a mix of both. He was wearing the same expression as Potter: the bliss, the total and utter happiness, as well as that unknown emotion. Yet, every few seconds, his eyes shot to Potter, sending the daggers his sister was perfecting as well. Then, he'd turn back to Hermione, and all seemed well.

What the actual fuck.

Draco couldn't figure out what was up between the people who had, at one time, been the best of friends. These three, or four if you counted Weaslette, had a friendship beyond compare. Yet, a chasm had irrupted within it. Hermione couldn't see the chasm, but the others could. If they hadn't been able to mend it in seven years, who knew if they ever would be able to. Draco felt a pang of sadness: he was no fan of the golden trio, or quarto depending, but their friendship was one of a kind. It was sad to see that broken.

But what had broken it?

"So then he knocked me over."

Draco shook out of his reverie. Hermione was telling a story, and everyone was eyeing him.

"Sorry?" Draco asked, and a couple of people chuckled. Longbottom filled in the blanks.

"I asked Hermione how you found her."

"Oh," Draco said, catching up. "I was pissed drunk and knocked her to the ground after watching a hockey game at a bar."

Longbottom laughed. "Only you."

"I forgot, eh?" he stated, turning back to Hermione. "I was so drunk that I went home and forgot. I didn't remember until I knocked you over the next day."

Oldest Weasley burst out laughing. "You seem to have issues with knocking people over."

Draco chuckled, while Hermione began telling everyone about their time in Canada together. She went over the continuous knock-overs, the gala (which earned Draco several high fives for his successful ability to piss people off), and Blaise finding them.

Draco sat back and listened to her speak, actually listening this time. He was just starting to think that things were starting to go right, with the exception of Potter/Weasel/Weaslette confusion, and the whole memory business.

Then the world fell to shit.

As Hermione was talking about Blaise, an owl above the burrow. He seemed to be carrying a newspaper. Hermione stopped talking and they all stared at the owl. Mama Weasley stood up and the owl dropped the newspaper in her hand.

"Evening prophet," she said. "We have a subscription."

Smiling, she unrolled the paper and looked at the first page. Her eyes bulged out and she dropped it on the table. Everyone looked confused. Mama Weasley stuttered, but wasn't able to form words. She stared at Hermione and Draco with wide eyes. She wordlessly gestured to the next person to take the paper. She sat back down, looking completely mind-blown.

The paper went down the table, with everyone having varying reactions.

When it reached Kingsley, he swore in German. When it reached Hagrid, he just looked confused. When it reached Fleur, she nodded in approval. When it reached Older and Oldest, they laughed then stopped immediately, as if realising something. Prissy scoffed. When it reached Papa, he looked angry. When it Looney, she didn't look surprised. Narcissa gawked and smirked. Longbottom spat out all of his fire whiskey.

Those weren't even the best reactions.

Weaslette batted an eyelash but shrugged. Weasel's face turned bright red and he began stuttering in anger. Potter froze and turned white.

Finally, the paper reached Draco and Hermione. Everyone at the table was waiting for their reaction. Weasel looked like he wanted to punch Draco in the face. Potter looked cold and ruthless. Draco's heart was pounding as he looked at the paper with Hermione.

The front page was a full picture. It was a picture of the two them. They were on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Hermione's legs were wrapped around his waist, with his hands ripping her robes off her back. His robes were ripped open, with her hands running up and down his chest. They were locked in the passionate embrace that Draco remembered oh so well.

The worst part: the picture was moving.

At the top, the headline read: HERMIONE GRANGER'S LOST MEMORY, RELATIONSHIP WITH EX DEATH EATER by Rita Skeeter.

There weren't enough swear words in the world.

Review please lovelies