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Adrift

Chapter 36

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Draco had experienced a lot of strange things in life. Remarkable, improbable, and downright terrifying. And through it all, he recognised to a certain extent that some things just weren't easily explained―and usually, the reason was magic.

Finding himself in front of Richard and Jean Granger on the streets of Muggle London, when as far as he knew the pair lived in Brisbane, Australia with no recollection of who they once were or the fact that they had a daughter, rocked him to the core.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words broke free.

Mister Granger stared at her, a deep furrow of disbelief on his brow, while tears streamed down Missus Granger's cheeks. Eyes shifting between the three of them, Draco had never felt more out of place.

"Hello," he spoke, at last, his manners getting the best of him as he brandished a hand. "My name is Draco Malfoy."

Three sets of startled eyes snapped towards him, and Mister Granger shook his hand with an uneasy grin. "Richard Granger."

"Perhaps a cuppa," Draco offered politely. He scanned the road and was grateful to spot a small tea shop.

"Of course," Missus Granger said, shaking her head a little as she and Hermione still stared at one another. "Forgive me, this is just―I can't quite believe we've found you."

No one moved, and Draco swept a hand through his hair as their awkward congregation drew the attention of passersby. But when he glanced at Hermione again, he could see something else beneath the surprise of running into her parents. Despair.

That even if they somehow knew who she was, she knew them only by a photograph she had discovered in her vault. She didn't actually remember them. "Right," she said a moment later. "Tea."

Eventually, the four of them made their way towards the tea shop, and while Draco debated leaving her to reconnect with her parents, the way she clung to his hand left little doubt as to her thoughts about the matter. However, the prolonged and uncertain tension lingered as though no one knew exactly how to broach the elephant in the room.

"We've been trying to locate you for months," Richard Granger spoke at last once they'd received tea. "But we didn't... it was like you'd fallen off the map. All of your personal items gone from the house, and no sign of you. We didn't know how to access your magical friends."

Draco could see the cogs whirring in Hermione's brain.

At last, she took a sip of tea, and her hand shook so badly the steaming liquid threatened to slosh over the sides. Draco took the cup from her and set it on her saucer; she gave him a grateful look.

"While I'm elated to have come across you today, I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said quietly. "When I was in Brisbane five years ago, through an effort to reverse a spell, I suffered a complete long-term memory loss."

"Oh, sweetheart," Jean Granger whispered, clapping a hand to her mouth. "You don't remember anything?"

"Not prior to that moment," Hermione confirmed. "I have a photograph of you―both of you―but I..." She trailed off, glancing towards Draco as though searching for strength. He squeezed her hand under the table. "I've been working with a healer to restore my memories. Perhaps you can tell me... how have you come to be here?"

Her parents exchanged a look, hesitation and confusion flickering across their faces.

Mister Granger was the one to speak. "It's been a strange experience, to be sure. We met you in Brisbane five years ago―though you introduced yourself as Melody―and the three of us had a jarring encounter wherein you attempted to explain several things that made no sense. But then we never saw you again. For a long time, we were able to put the experience out of mind."

Draco frowned at the story, feeling as though he should be taking notes.

"About a year ago," Richard went on, "we both started remembering instances of the conversation. Certain things you'd said, details that we otherwise never would have remembered. Then about six months ago, it all sort of came apart like an avalanche, and we remembered everything. When we attempted to track down your alias, we found no evidence that such a person had ever existed―and there was no record that you had ever returned to London as Hermione."

At Draco's left, Hermione sat very still, processing the words. She stared at her teacup, lips parted and ghosting over the shape of words.

"I..." she fell silent, making a face. "I can't say what happened. With any of it. I returned to London believing my name to be Melody―I didn't even know my true name until I ran into Draco and Harry a number of months ago."

"Harry Potter," her mother urged.

Hermione nodded, confusion on her brow. "Yes."

Her parents exchanged a glance, and Draco could see Hermione shrink a little into her seat. He couldn't imagine the tumult racing through her mind at the jarring experience.

"You'll have to excuse me," she breathed, rubbing at her temples with a wince, "that I'm perhaps not as you hoped to find me."

"Not at all!" her mother exclaimed, sadness overtaking her countenance. "We're thrilled to have come across you at last―I'm only sorry to learn of what's happened."

"We've begun to see progress," she said with a nod a little too voracious, her eyes a little too bright, "in the memory restoration therapy. So with a little more time..."

When she trailed off, Draco could see she was on the verge of tears. He gave her hand another squeeze, and she interlaced her fingers with his.

"What can we do to help?" Richard Granger asked, leaning forward in his seat. "If there's anything, please just ask."

Hermione only shook her head as though lost for words. She looked pale, some of the sparkle gone from her eyes, and Draco wondered whether the encounter had taken a toll on her mentally or physically.

"Patience, I think," he spoke on her behalf. Her hand squeezed his again. "The healer she's working with is the highest regarded cognitive healing specialist in all of England. It's a slow process, but we're all optimistic about it."

Jean Granger gave him a warm smile. "Did you know Hermione at Hogwarts, dear?"

"I did," Draco allowed. "We weren't close at the time, though, so I don't know whether you would have heard of me." He didn't care to tell her parents at the first meeting that if they had heard of him, it likely would have been all bad. He dropped his voice so only Hermione could hear and asked, "Are you doing alright?"

"A little overwhelmed," she breathed, "and not feeling entirely right."

She looked even paler than she had only minutes prior, and Draco's heart lurched at the thought that the run-in might have been too much for her to handle, especially after she had already taken in so much at the Ministry.

"Perhaps we ought to carry on," he said, rummaging for some Muggle notes for the tea.

"Of course," Mister Granger announced, though her parents' faces fell a little. "Please, let us know if anything changes―if there's anything we can do to help."

Hermione seemed to gather herself a little, and she beamed between them. "This is so wonderful. For so long, I've wondered whether I would ever see you both again. I look forward to spending more time together." She jotted her telephone number onto a slip of paper and entered her parents' home number into her mobile.

By the time they emerged back onto the street, saying their goodbyes, Hermione looked sickly, and a thin sheen of perspiration had developed on her temples.

Concern swept through Draco as they ventured down the road. "Are you alright? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"I don't know," she breathed, pressing the tips of her fingers to her head as she scrunched her eyes shut. "Just home, I think."

"Right."

Draco pulled her between the two nearest buildings and Apparated the pair of them directly into her flat. She settled on the sofa, her body quaking a little. Draco poured her a glass of water and wrapped her in a blanket as he eyed her with caution. "Your parents," he spoke at last.

He could see the glassy shine to her eyes as she nodded, offering a despairing sort of smile. "Can you believe it?"

"Honestly," Draco said, "no. I can't imagine what happened a year ago for them to remember you and why it might have taken four years."

"And what I did five years ago?" She released a heavy sigh, shifting so Draco could tuck himself onto one end of the sofa, then rested her head in his lap. "The whole experience felt odd like it was all pressing up against a wall of what currently exists of my mental capacity. I don't know; it's difficult to explain."

"I get it," Draco murmured. He played idly with her curls; her forehead felt hot to the touch, even as she shivered a little. "Do you want me to owl Healer Huxley?"

"Probably a good idea," she said, stifling a yawn. "He'll want to know about this. But maybe you'll just sit with me for a few more minutes."

"Of course," Draco murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes slid shut as though the situation had completely drained her of energy, but at least she hadn't been half as affected as she had the day when she'd had an episode after visiting the manor. "Hey," he said quietly as she drifted towards sleep, "you've got your parents back."

A soft smile lingered on her face as she fell asleep.


A short while later, Healer Huxley knocked on the door. After Hermione had fallen asleep, Draco had sent an owl to inform the man of what had happened, who decided to come by and assess her state himself. Draco had felt a flicker of relief, given her fever hadn't yet broken―though it mingled with the alarm that darted through him at the thought that Huxley hadn't been keen to wait until their next appointment.

Within ten minutes, the sitting room looked like a makeshift hospital room, instruments and diagnostic tools whirring as the man hooked them up to Hermione's brain. Draco's stomach churned at the sight.

"Anything I can do?" Draco asked, propping himself against the wall as he observed, unwilling to get in the way.

Huxley didn't answer for a minute, gaze fixed intently on one of the instruments that he had perched on the coffee table. At last, he shook his head. "Not at the moment. Her mind is processing an astronomical amount of content right now."

Draco didn't have enough context to understand what that meant beyond the fact that the happenstance meeting with her parents had been impactful.

He didn't dare ask what it meant for her treatment.

As Huxley set to work, jotting notes on a pad of paper in a rapid, messy scrawl, Draco wrung his hands, fighting the urge to pace. He went into the kitchen, set on a pot of tea to busy his hands, and then delivered a cup to Huxley.

"Thanks," the man murmured, glancing up as though surprised to find Draco still there.

Finally, Huxley dragged a hand through his hair, set down his pad of paper, and requested Draco recount everything he could remember about the afternoon. Draco wracked his mind, trying to recall as many details as possible in as clinical a manner as he could. His training with the Auror's office helped him keep a level head when all he wanted to do was fret over Hermione's condition.

Draco wasn't certain whether she was simply asleep or if Huxley had dropped her deeper.

Humming and taking notes, Huxley didn't let on anything. But when Draco concluded with the story, the man's eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "I'm not yet able to tell what effect this will have on her. She's stable, at any rate―more so than she was the first time you brought her to me. But I don't want to disturb the processing her mind has been sorting through since I arrived—and presumably since coming across her parents."

"Do you know what happened to them?" Draco asked, sinking into an armchair by the bookshelf. "Why they remembered her so abruptly at such a later point in time?"

"I have a few suspicions." Huxley scanned several instruments, tweaking the calibrations; one whirred faster with a soft, shrill cry. "And some of them could even relate back to the matter of her memory loss. But I'll need to dig a little deeper."

As Draco watched Hermione's prone form, her brow furrowed with some sort of disturbance and fingers jumping at her sides, all he wanted was for her to break free of everything that plagued her. For her memories to return, no matter the outcome between them, and for her to begin sorting through what was to come of her life.

He didn't regret anything that had happened between them, but his heart ached for her as he watched her struggle. And now, this was just something else to deal with.

Even though her parents had understood the situation, he could see the way guilt flickered through her face. She had been the one to remove herself from their memories originally, and years later, the results still haunted her in a much more visceral way than she had ever anticipated.

And although Draco knew Healer Huxley and his team were doing their best, he only hoped for something to come of it.

Huxley finished his cup of what must have been cold tea, stowed his notebook, and peered at Draco for a long moment. "I'm going to lift her from the sedation, but she'll likely continue to sleep for a while as her brain processes." He packed up most of the instruments but for one. "Keep an eye on this, and if anything abnormal happens, please bring her to St Mungo's straight away. She should be fine at this point―and I'll see her tomorrow for our usual treatment session."

"Alright." Draco rose from his seat and walked with the man to the door. "Thank you for coming by―and for everything you've done for her to this point."

The man nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment on Hermione. "Of course, Auror Malfoy. It's my job―and furthermore―it's a privilege to help someone who's done so much for all of us."

Draco ducked his chin into a nod. "Indeed."

At that, Huxley stepped out, leaving Draco alone with Hermione's sleeping form. He didn't dare leave her alone for a minute, just in case something happened, so he selected a book from her shelf and settled into the armchair. After a while, finding himself unable to focus, he rose to prepare some food in her kitchen.

When he returned, he found Hermione restless in sleep, a grimace flickering across her face, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against her leg. A sheen of sweat had formed on her temples again, but the fever from earlier had gone down.

Her eyes scrunched up, her breathing uneven, but just as he reached to check the instrument Huxley had left on the table, her eyes slid open.

"Hermione," Draco huffed as he crouched down before her, relief darting through him as her aggravation settled with a ragged exhale. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't answer, staring at him as she drew in several deep breaths. Her brows knitted with confusion, and her eyes searched his for long enough that Draco grew uncertain.

"Hermione?" he said again. A jolt of nerves darted through him, settling as nausea in the pit of his stomach. "What's wrong?"

Fingers grappled for his, weak and trembling, and Draco took her hand.

Her eyes darted about the room, and her face was still pale, though some of the colour had returned to her cheeks. "Draco," she breathed at last, and warm relief swelled within him once more that she hadn't somehow forgotten him. But she pressed the fingers of her other hand to her temple, scrunching her eyes shut. "I am... very concerned."

Draco lifted a brow. His heart thudded an anxious rhythm; adrenaline dull behind his ears. "What are you concerned about?"

She blew out a breath, frowning, but her eyes opened to meet his once more. "I am trying to determine whether this is... real..." She shook her head once, and then her lips twitched as though withholding a smile. "I think you need to get a white ferret. As a pet."

His jaw fell open, surprise jarring his heart through an extended beat, and he stared at her, unblinking until he realised moisture had accumulated at the corners of his eyes. "That?" he choked out. "Of all things you could possibly remember―"

"I'm sorry," she tittered before devolving into a fit of laughter. But then warmth curled her lips, silent tears streaming down her face, and she caught his cheek in her palm; her skin was cool to the touch. "This is beyond my control."

Shaking his head, an incredulous huff fell from his lips. "Is that it?"

Hermione snorted into her palm. "In a sea of darkness in all directions, the only lighthouse is you, turned into a ferret."

Her amusement was contagious, and despite himself, Draco was pulled into her laughter. "Okay, but how long is it?"

"It's very short," she said, some of her joy sobering. "Blurry at the edges and bookended by blackness."

For a long moment, Draco only stared at her, his brows low. "This is the one memory you've gained from the past. Of all the fucking moments you could have remembered." But within himself, a flicker of pride mingled with the joy he felt at the fact that she remembered something. And it was something to do with him.

"It's a good sign," he breathed.

Another bright laugh fell from her lips, even as silent tears tracked down her cheeks, and she echoed, "It's a good sign."

Draco swallowed, his chest painfully tight and eyes stinging. "It means they're in there."

Her smile was so warm, filled with such significance and happiness and relief that he almost couldn't handle the brilliance of it. He pulled her into his arms on the sofa, tight against himself, and buried a hand into her curls when she sank into his chest. His heart thudded a song of such hope, and he almost couldn't remember the way that felt anymore, that he didn't know what to do or say.

As she trailed a pattern on his abdomen, tears of joy soaking through his shirt, her body nearly vibrated with energy.

"I love you," Draco managed, at last, the words choking from his lips amidst the swelling of emotion within him. "I'm so fucking proud of you."

Whether she was exhausted or simply without words, Hermione only clung to him, and she planted a kiss to his chest over his heart. Her breathing fell, soft and even, against his neck, and he lost track of time as the minutes dripped on.


"What's all this about, then?" Potter waved a vague hand as if to indicate Draco's entire countenance and cocked a brow.

"Care to elaborate?"

They'd been patrolling Knockturn and had very little to show for the morning, but the sun was shining, and Draco couldn't shake the good mood that had carried him through since the afternoon before when Hermione had alerted him to the fact that she had recovered one small memory.

As far as he was concerned, after the long months of nothing—following years where she didn't even know where she was—it was a victory.

Potter cleared his throat. "This. What's the matter with you today?"

"Can't be in a good mood?" Even as he spoke the words, he flashed Potter a grin. "Maybe I've received good news."

As though physically forcing himself to engage, Potter released a long breath and scrubbed at his eyes. "Fine, Malfoy, I'll play. What's this good news that's had you grinning like a prat all day?"

"Thanks for asking," Draco retorted, taking no small amount of pleasure in Potter's apparent irritation. "Do you by chance remember that time Crouch-parading-as-Moody turned me into a ferret?"

Potter blinked several times, his face blank. "Of course I do. But why are you happy over that? Surely it must have been embarrassing for you, given how hilarious it was for us."

Draco made a face. "Anyway." He fixed Potter with a look, his lips twitching. "So does Hermione."

"So does Hermione what?" The man's face scrunched up with confusion. "She―wait―" His jaw fell open, eyes shooting wide. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Draco held Potter's gaze for a moment, ducking his chin. "I am not. If I were making this up, I would have chosen a moment that cast me in a better light. Honestly, don't you know me better than that by now?" But Potter didn't respond, his jaw hanging open in pure, unfettered shock. After a moment with no response, Draco grimaced. "Did you hear me?"

"I can't decide," Potter choked out, at last, his voice tight, "if I'm thrilled to learn she's remembered something or dismayed it's something about you."

Draco snickered. "Fair point. Though you were technically there, too."

For a moment, Potter only shook his head. Emotion hung clear in the furrow of his brow, the tightness of his jaw, and Draco clapped him on the shoulder. "I can't believe it," he said softly, shaking his head. "Even finding her after so long, I guess I'd come to accept that this was as much of her as I'd ever get back―and don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to have that. But I just know how much it would mean to her if she were able to have her memories again."

"Yeah," Draco muttered, releasing a breath. "It's remarkable." He jolted physically upon remembering the circumstances that had led to her revelation. "Also, get this―we came across her parents in London, and they remember her."

Potter blinked, his face rapidly transiting numerous emotions. "You forgot to include that detail?"

Draco waved his hands in a flippant gesture. "I thought we ought to take a closer look at her file to see what we might have missed with regard to that side of the matter."

As they strolled the broken cobbles of Knockturn Alley, Draco filled Potter in on everything Hermione's parents had said―from the way she had been to visit them in Australia as Melody, to the way their recollection of their daughter had crashed down upon them.

The good part about patrolling the secondary street was that, provided nothing occurred immediately within their view and no brawls broke out, their job was simply to assert an Auror presence. Just the sight of their robes and badges―and often Potter alone―kept most of the lowlifes at bay who might have otherwise sought to cause trouble.

The pair of them spent a good portion of the day hypothesising as to what it all meant and how Hermione's parents had come to remember her.

And though they'd been drifting towards it for a while now, Draco had to acknowledge that it was nice to have a friend in Potter―even beyond the fact that he and Theo were obviously good for one another. For the first time in a long time, Draco felt as though he actually had a place where he fit.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as Potter glanced down at an incoming message on his badge. Draco felt his lips curl up at Hermione's message.

Huxley says good news! Thinks we might be able to use this one memory as a sort of thread to unravel more? See you tonight?

The smile lingered on Draco's face, his chest tight with something that resembled joy after he'd stowed the phone back in his pocket with a quick response to confirm. He glanced up to see Potter eyeing his badge with a furrowed brow. "What have we got?"

"Your favourite," Potter clipped, returning his badge. "There's been another small-time theft at the apothecary."

Draco clenched his jaw, squinting up into the sunlight above. "Let me guess: someone's swiped a shipment of lacewing flies, and now how will we ever brew anything?"

"Close," Potter said, clicking his tongue. "But not quite. Aconite."

Interest flitted through the back of his mind as Draco inclined his jaw. "Aconite. Fresh werewolf in a panic trying to brew Wolfsbane?"

Potter shrugged as they tracked an idle course towards Diagon Alley. "As good a guess as any, I suppose. Wonder if they've got two dozen wilting floral arrangements stuffed in the den?"

Despite himself, Draco cracked a grin. "Must be a werewolf wedding."

Chuckling, Potter jabbed an elbow into his ribs. "Prat. I'll laugh if you're right about all this."

Notes:

Resolutions or just more questions? Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed the chapter! We're into the final ten chapters which I almost can't believe.

Alpha and beta love, as always, to Kyonomiko and FaeOrabel.