Draco’s eyes stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. They itched with tiredness, but sleep refused to come.
It’s… a spider. No… a tiger… no; a lot of lines.
Bereft of distractions, his mind drifted back to the topic that denied him rest. He rolled over, grimacing as his bones grated on the wooden floor.
Someone is looking for me. But who? From what he’d gathered from the Pensieve, he was merely a rather obnoxious boy who’d dived in the deep end without learning how to swim. Why would anyone ” especially a Death Eater (what kind of a name was that anyway?), as the others seemed to think that woman was ” be interested in him?
Is there something they’re not telling me? Some secret about my past? he thought feverishly, his fingers picking at the fabric of the sleeping bag. But no, they wouldn’t… Hermione wouldn’t... would she?
He ran his hand through his hair. She kept my identity from me… but she was told to… does that make it right?
She “ and everyone else “ had never told him what that mark meant. In fact, the subject was avoided completely. He glanced down at his arm. The skull’s eyeless sockets seemed more malevolent than ever, fixing him with a stare that promised only pain.
What about my fingesr? He absent-mindedly brushed his thumb across the smooth skin where his two fingers should have been. No-one has ever explained that to me. No-one ever explains anything to me unless I ask first. I’m a prisoner in my own mind.
He shut his eyes. Think of something else. Just get to sleep... count sheep, or something.
One sheep… am I really in danger?
Two sheep... who from?
Three sheep... is Hermione, of all people, lying to me?
Four sheep... what about?
Five sheep... what should I do?
Six sheep... what can I do?
Seven sheep...
Who am I?
The last thought lingered in his mind as he felt himself drift gently into sleep. Afraid to move or even think in case he interrupted his descent, he lay thoroughly at peace, forgetting even the stifling heat of the room.
Sleep at last...
A sound like the roaring of a chainsaw shattered the silence. Draco flew upwards with a pounding heart.
They’re here! Oh Merlin, they’ve come! he thought wildly, not even aware himself who ‘they’ were. The thump of blood in his ears lessened as he realised that the sound was, in fact, coming from someone in the room. Ron lay on his back, snoring so loudly Draco was sure he could see the roof shaking. Harry groaned and rolled over on his broken bed, burying his head under the pillow.
Draco gave up. He simply was not destined for sleep that night. The air was unpleasantly hot, and his shirt stuck to his chest in damp patches. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. I’ve had enough of this, he decided. He threw the sweaty sleeping bag from him and clambered into a pair of jeans. Treading carefully so as not to wake the other occupants, he crept out of the door.
He took a deep breath, exchanging the unbearably stuffy air of the bedroom with the slightly fresher, though still humid, air of the hallway. His bare feet tread cautiously over the rough wooden floorboards, aware of every knot and grain. A kind of elation spread through him as he tested each step for creaks.
Wow, look at me, I’m sneaking out, he thought, laughing at himself. He landed lightly on the hall floor and padded softly to the back door. He eased the latch upwards, tensing as it let out a sudden groan of complaint. There was no response from inside. Unexplainable excitement bubbled up inside him as he inched open the door and snuck outside.
The cool night air sent a wave of refreshment through him. His enjoyment of this new freedom was so great he didn’t realise he was not alone in the garden.
“Draco? What are you doing out here?” came a familiar voice. Draco spun around, a wave of self-consciousness attacking his composure.
“Well, I could ask you the same thing, Hermione,” he managed, suddenly realising how scruffy he must look in a sweaty t-shirt and rumpled jeans.
Hermione relaxed a little and sat back down on the bench, tucking her hands into her dressing gown.
“I just came out for some air,” he explained, walking over to her. “I couldn’t sleep, for some reason.” Paper crackled in his pocket as he sat down. He reached his hand inside and extricated two crumpled envelopes.
“Me too,” Hermione said softly. Something in her voice “ sadness? despair? resignation? “ made Draco tear his eyes away from the envelopes on his lap. Hermione’s face was titled upwards to the sky that lay draped in clouds. In the strange, pale light, her dark eyes glittered from moonlit skin.
Draco couldn’t take his gaze from her. In his heart of hearts, in the depths of his soul, he knew Hermione was not beautiful. But there was something about her, something that caused his mind’s eye to fill in every physical detail she lacked. Hermione was... Hermione was special.
“Are you sure that woman was a Death Eater?” he ventured after a period of silence. His voice seemed to break some spell over Hermione; some of the tension left her body, and she sat back into the bench,
“Well, if she isn’t, she certainly supports You-Know-Who is some way,” she replied. A strand of bushy hair fell in front of her face; Draco resisted a sudden urge to brush it away.
“But couldn’t she just have been nosy?” he asked reasonably, forcing his gaze to turn away so she wouldn’t think he was staring at her.
Hermione shook her head impatiently. “You didn’t see her. She was definitely up to something sinister.”
Draco shrugged, unwilling to argue further. “What do the others think?”
/>
“Mrs. Weasley and Ginny think it was definitely suspicious. The boys“” she invested the word with such scorn Draco could almost see the letters curling and withering before his eyes ““think I’m over-reacting.”
Draco arranged his face into what he hoped was a supportive and outraged expression.
“And we can’t ask Fleur about anything because she and Bill have left for London,” she continued. “Bill promised me he’d let Lupin and the Order know about what I saw, but 1“”
“Is Lupin the old guy with the weird eye?” he interrupted.
“No, no; that’s Moody.” Her train of thought derailed, she ceased her flow of talk. Her eyes fell upon the envelopes that lay on Draco’s lap.
“What are those?” she enquired. Draco followed her gaze. His heart began to race.
“Hermione“” he coughed, trying to clear his throat ““ Hermione, can I ask you a favour?” She looked up at him, brown eyes brimming with curiosity, and nodded.
He fiddled with the envelopes, turning them over and over in nervous hands, before thrusting them suddenly towards her. She looked at him, startled eyebrows almost disappearing into a mane of hair.
“If “ if I go... I mean, if he comes... if my memory comes back, can you deliver these?” he stammered, his words tripping and running out of his mouth. Hermione flipped over the envelopes, looking at the name scribbled on each. Her eyes widened, but she nodded.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Hermione sighed, breaking the spell. She turned to Draco.
“Does it worry you?” she asked, in a voice so soft it was almost absorbed in the breeze.
“Does what?”
“The uncertainty.”
“Of my memory?” He paused, considering. “Yes, it does. It’s like “ I sometimes feel as though once my memory returns, I’ll go. I don’t mean this body, but the person I am now will just “ vanish. Like dying, but with no hope of heaven.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Hermione. Draco felt soft fingers covering his hand where it lay on the bench, and his heart leapt so high he was sure she could see it in his throat. He swallowed hard.
“One of the things,” he began, gripping his courage with all his strength, “one of the things I’m most afraid of is “ is losing “” his nerve failed “-people.”
Hermione lifted her eyes to meet his. “What people?”
Now or never. “People like you.”
Afterwards, Draco could never say what gave him the courage to do what happened next. As if in a dream, he heard her gasp, saw her shining eyes, smelt the faint whiff of ink and parchment that followed her everywhere... felt the soft touch of her lips upon his own.
Dong
The tolling of the church bell from the nearby village of Ottery St. Catchpole drifted towards them on the night breeze.
Dong
They broke apart. Draco stood, glancing in trepidation at Hermione for her reaction, his body tensed for flight.
Dong
Her eyes sparkled, a slightly glazed look upon them, above her parted lips.
Dong
A broad grin split his face in two. Bursting with happiness and elation, he ran lightly into the house.
Dong
As he leapt up the stairs, he thought with joy that that was the best thing in memory.
________________________________________________________________________
Dong
Hermione sat very still, a smile creeping across her features. Her lips still tingled. Her heart raced, pumping so fast she felt dizzy.
Dong
She stood up slowly, not noticing the envelopes slide off her lap and fall under the bench, and began walking leisurely towards the house. Her mind was full of Draco,.
Dong
A crashing sound, faint but growing louder, startled her out of her thoughts. She whirled around, her eyes searching the darkness as she whipped out her wand.
Dong
“Lumos,” she murmured. The light illuminated a figure staggering up from the bottom of the garden.
Dong
Hermione’s scream froze in her throat. Fear rooted her to the ground as the dark shape lurched closer and closer.
Dong
With a burst of speed, it broke into a shambling run and grabbed her by the collar. With a shock, Hermione realised it was Monsieur Delacour. His bloodshot eyes gazed through her wildly, desperately.
Dong
“Ils viennent! Ils viennent!” he cried hoarsely, shaking her. “Allez! Allez! ILS VIENNENT!”
Dong
My Name is Draco Malfoy... I Think by mooncalf
Chapter Notes: Apologies (yet again) for the long delay. I have done some reconfiguring of the plot, and there is something in the first chapter you must read if this one is going to make sense. Thanks a million to Hatusu, my wonderful beta. If you want to keep an eye on future updates, see where I'm at with all my fics, or just confirm I haven't abandoned anything, you can have a look at my LJ. The link is on my author's page.