A/N: On the issue of what to call Draco Malfoy: I don’t like when author’s just call him Draco, but for the purposes of this fic Hermione refers to him as Malfoy (for the time being), but he thinks of himself as Draco. If this is too confusing, please tell me and I’ll find another way.
Hermione lay in bed late that night, tears drying on her cheeks. She hadn’t expected her parents to react so badly. They had flipped. Malfoy was now, unbeknownst to himself, firmly locked in his room, and the key was now locked in a box. She thought that was overdoing it a bit, since he was unarmed and his sixteen years of magical experience forgotten. But her parents had been terrified. It had scared her too, seeing their reaction to her news.
But why? She hadn’t even told them what he’d done or what he was. She’d just said that he was a wizard in her year, who’d lost his memory and so was potentially a little dangerous. She’d left out the whole ‘Dark Wizard and Muggle-Hater’ thing. And yet they were nearly hysterical and were furious with her for ‘putting the family at risk’ as they called it. Maybe it’s not him they’re scared of, a cruel voice in her head told her. Her heart felt cold, and she tried desperately to quash the thought before it could grow. It’s magic it continued mercilessly. It’s YOU!.
“No,” she whispered softly to herself. “No, that’s not true. They love me. They do!” Turning over on her side, she tired not to listen to the relentless, mocking voice as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
* * *
“Oh!” Hermione awoke with a start as Athena landed with a soft thump on her stomach. Her heart leapt when she saw the letter Athena had brought her. She took it from Athena, who gave an appreciative hoot and hopped back to her perch. Hermione unrolled the scroll quickly, scanning it anxiously for advice on her current predicament.
Dear Miss Granger,
Thank you very much for your letter- you were quite right to contact me. I agree that this is a very dangerous situation for you to be in, especially considering your family circumstances. I will be arriving at eleven o’clock sharp next morning to bring you both to the Weasley's for the time being. DO NOT TELL HIM ANYTHING. It could jolt him enough to bring back his memory, and capable witch as you are, I don’t think you could deal with some of the nastier curses he is bound to have picked up.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Hermione glanced over at the clock on her bedside locker. Ten o’clock already! She couldn’t believe she’d slept so late. And Professor McGonagall arriving in an hour! She stumbled sleepily out of her bed, wishing she could have a little longer. She stretched and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Dressing carefully (she was Hermione Granger, the neat freak after all), she then packed her things tidily into her trunk, ready to leave.
She arrived in the kitchen fifteen minutes later and saw a note from her parents on the table. They had gone to work and left the key to Malfoy’s room under a plant pot. Shaking her head at these ridiculous precautions, she found the key and slipped along to the room. She paused as he was about to unlock the door and tried to calm down. He was just a boy, after all. Oh yeah? You didn’t seem so sure yesterday. You jumped every time he spoke!
Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and rapped sharply on it.
“Malfoy? Are you up yet?”
“Hang on a second,” said a drowsy voice. She jumped a little as the door opened and tried to get a grip on herself. What was wrong with her these days? Malfoy was standing there half dressed, his silvery-blonde hair tousled and his eyes were blinking in the bright sunlight.
“You’d better get ready,” she told him, averting her eyes. “We’re leaving in less than an hour.” She turned on her heel and hurried back to the kitchen before waiting to hear his reply.
She was eating breakfast, a book propped in front of her, when Malfoy appeared. So immersed was she in the book, she didn’t even look up as he came in. It was only after he cleared his throat noisily that she noticed him.
“Oh, you’re here. If you want some breakfast there’s cereal, toast, whatever…” She waved her hand in the vague direction of the toaster and then returned to her book. He looked at it in confusion for a few minutes before he spoke again.
“Er… Hermione, what is it?”
She jumped at the sound of her first name coming from that mouth. “What’s what?” she asked, putting down her book
“This thing,” he said, gesturing at the toaster. “What does it do?” She stared at him incredulously before she realised that, as a Malfoy, he’d never seen one before. She muttered to herself about the foolishness of Muggle-ignorant wizards not doing Muggle Studies, until she recollected that he wouldn’t have remembered it even if he had taken that subject. She showed him how to work it and sat down to finish her book .She tried to ignore his frequent exclamations at the toaster. He finally got it working (sort of), and sat there munching on two pieces of very burnt toast.
“What’s a Pepper-Up Potion?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“What?” Hermione looked at him in confusion. He glanced swiftly away. “Never mind”. A few minutes later he seemed to remember something.
“Oh yeah, Hermione,” he said. She sighed in exasperation. At this rate, she would never finish her book. “What is it now?”
“What’s this? I saw it today and, I dunno, it just seems to mean something. Do you know what it is?” He leaned across the table towards her and jerked his right sleeve up. Hermione screamed and leapt back, knocking her chair over. There, contrasting sharply with Malfoy’s pale skin, was the Dark Mark, the eyes seeming to glare at her. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest.
Malfoy kept looking from her to his arm and back again in bewilderment.
“Just… just cover it up,” she said faintly. “Don’t let anyone see that.” He shrugged and shook his sleeve back down. They finished their breakfast in silence.
She heaved a sigh of relief as he left to take a shower a few minutes before eleven. Now that her moment of panic was over, she was cross with herself for reacting so violently. He was bound to notice something was wrong. She supposed she was just on edge after the events of the day before. After tidying the kitchen swiftly, she wrote a note to her parents to explain where they were gone. She had just finished it when she heard a sharp crack outside, and the doorbell ringing a moment later. She opened the door to find Professor McGonagall standing on the doorstep.
“May I come in?” she asked briskly, and stepped inside before Hermione could reply. “Where is he?”
“Oh, I think he’s just having a shower or something…” Hermione faltered as Professor McGonagall’s steely gaze fixed on her in incredulity. “It’s okay though,” she rushed on, “I mean, he has no wand and doesn’t know where he is, it’s quite safe-” she cut off suddenly as she realised she was babbling.
“I think you’d better tell me the whole story,” Professor McGonagall said firmly, guiding Hermione to a chair. “From start to finish.”
* * *
Draco pulled on his shirt and began hunting for his shoes. The accio spell would do quite nicely now, he thought. The what?! Yet again, the thought slipped away. He didn’t bother racking his brains for the source. All that got him was a headache. He’d get his memory back in time. Finding one shoe, he stuffed his foot in. This memory loss thing was very annoying though. And that girl was no help. What was her name, Hermione or something? Weird name. He grunted sourly. He was one to talk. That girl though, she was definitely strange. Every time he spoke, she either went bright red or jumped. Or ignored him entirely.
He found his other shoe with a smile of triumph. She probably fancied him, he told himself. That would explain it. From what he could see, he was pretty good looking. And obviously entertaining and intelligent.
Smiling, he unlocked the door and began walking towards the kitchen.
* * *
“…and it’s just been awful, Professor,” Hermione finished. Professor McGonagall looked at her in surprise.
“Awful? How? From what you’ve just told me, he seems to be vastly improved.”
“Well, yes,” said Hermione helplessly, “but it’s just so awkward.”
At that moment Malfoy entered the room. He looked surprised for a moment when he saw Professor McGonagall but he quickly recovered his composure and walked over to her.
“Hi, I’m Draco Malfoy,” he said, extending his hand with a friendly smile. Professor McGonagall looked at him in shock.
“Yes, yes, Miss Granger I see what you mean,” she said somewhat faintly. His smile slipped a little and he lowered his hand unshaken.
“Er… I think you know who I am, but I can’t really remember much and…” he trailed off awkwardly.
“Oh yeah, Malfoy, this is Professor McGonagall,” Hermione informed him hurriedly. “She teaches at Hogwarts-I mean, at school,” she added as he looked confused.
“Yes, and I’ve come to take both of you to the Weasleys’ house,” said Professor McGonagall briskly. “Get your things and we will leave immediately.”
Hermione ran upstairs and began levitating her heavy trunk down the stairs. She carried Athena, in her cage, by herself. When she arrived in the kitchen she found the others waiting for her. Malfoy noticed the wand in her hand.
“Hey, shouldn’t I have one of those?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead. Before Hermione could reply, Professor McGonagall interrupted them.
“I know that you, Miss Granger, have your Apparition license, but I’m presuming that Mr. Malfoy does not.” So saying, she grasped Malfoy firmly by the arm. He looked suddenly very apprehensive.
“Are you ready?” she asked Hermione, who gave a nod of assent. “Good. On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”
The world dissolved as Hermione felt the by now familiar compression. She staggered a little and felt someone steadying her. She looked around and saw that Malfoy had gripped her arm. She wriggled quickly away, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at the large haphazard building in front of them. Hermione smiled. They had reached The Burrow.