FIC: Drop of Milk
Rating: T+
Prompt: “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at me.
Summary: After a work-related accident, Draco suffers from amnesia and can't remember the last five years of his life...
Author's Note: I wrote this for the Strictly Dramione Valentine's Day Prompt, after being gently coaxed into participating by the admin, Les. (She basically said she loved my writing, and that was enough *cough*) I don't intend to post on my AO3 or FFN account for the moment.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” Hermione asked, her voice cracking slightly, and holding her breath. When she had been called to St. Mungo's after days of not knowing where Draco was, she hadn't expected to be led to the ward for mental illnesses-and she definitely hadn't expected to have her heart broken on Valentine's Day.
His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at her; he was sitting on the bed in this private ward, and he looked at her with a cold expression, his lips slowly turning into a sneer. He shook his head. “Why should I care to know you?”
“Draco, please, we're... we're engaged.”
He narrowed his eyes, and his sneer became more prominent. “As far as I know, Granger, you're dating that idiot of a red-head.”
“No.” Hermione had to turn around after hearing that, as she couldn't hold her tears back any longer. How many times had she told him to be careful in his job, knowing that he was still bent on proving everyone his worth? And now they were both paying the price for his need to be accepted, as the amnesia as a consequence of his accident had robbed him of his memories, had robbed him of almost everything she had come to love about him. She had to get out; it was too much to take in.
“Hermione...”
She didn't stop, only continued walking towards the stairs, trying not to break down in front of everyone else. Despite her efforts to keep herself together until the she reached the exit, the tears were running freely down her cheeks.
“Hermione!”
A hand grabbed her arm, and forced her to come to a halt. Only now did she turn around to see who had called her name, and was surprised to find Narcissa standing next to her. She shook her head, pressing her lips together.
“Come with me,” Narcissa said, taking her hand to lead her to one of the nearby visitor areas. “Is it that bad?”
Hermione nodded, and sat down. “He-He thinks that,” she started, but then her voice blocked again. She was glad for the skin contact of the hand holding, it helped her stay grounded, to not lose it completely. It wasn't something she had expected from his mother, having always seen her as a more distant person, but they had grown closer in the last year or so after getting to know each other better. “He doesn't remember, still thinks I'm dating Ron-”
“That was a long time ago,” Narcissa said in surprise, pressing her hand gently.
“Five years....” Hermione nodded, wiping another stubborn tear off her cheek. “All gone.”
“What did the Healers say? Is it permanent?”
Hermione took a deep breath, and started to feel less overwhelmed and more like she could at least somewhat handle the situation. “They didn't want to be specific,” she said, and swallowed hard as her throat threatened to choke again. “They say he has some sort of amnesia, but they couldn't reverse the effects, said something about some sort of mental dama-trauma that magic can't just simply undo.” She hiccupped. “Gods, I told him to be careful in his job, told Harry not to give him the most dangerous cases, and look where he ended up, in the mental ward!”
“I know,” Narcissa said calmly. “I know.”
Hermione smiled faintly. As much as their views still differed, she was glad that his mother was here, as the older woman was the one person who might understand the turmoil she was going through; she just found it a bit odd how calm Narcissa seemed in those circumstances, but then the older woman had been raised to keep up appearances. “They said I could take him home because he doesn't have any physical injuries, but...” She sighed.
“I could take him back to the Manor-”
“No, please don't!” Hermione looked up, rather aghast at the proposition. “It's okay, I was just overwhelmed in the first moment.” Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her face, hoping that she didn't look too blotchy from the crying. “I just needed some air, and someone to talk to. Thank you.”
“I'll talk to him. Come.” With another soft, but determined smile, Narcissa got up, beckoning her to follow her.
After another hiccup, Hermione followed her with a rather heavy heart. What if he would never be able to remember those five years with her? What if he decided he didn't love her anymore?
“Draco!” Narcissa entered the ward where he was still waiting for his release; her noticeably higher-pitched voice betrayed her calm exterior as soon as she saw him-she was still a mother first and foremost. “My dear, how are you? Are you all right?”
“They keep me here, and I don't know why,” he replied, briefly hugging her, then he saw Hermione standing at the door, watching the scene. “What's she doing here?”
Narcissa turned around and saw Hermione waving at her. “They haven't told you?” Her brows furrowed when he shook his head, and Hermione could see that she was suppressing a sigh. “You have amnesia, my dear. And she's here because she is your fiancée and wants to take you home.”
“She said the same thing,” he replied, sneering disapprovingly.
“Don't do that, Draco,” she ordered. “She's telling you the truth. And now I beg you to just listen for a moment.”
“But-”
“No.” She shook her head decisively. “I know it's not easy to digest, but you don't remember the last five years, my son. You're-”
“But, five years ago, I just returned from France.”
“You're not the boy you were when you came back, my dear.”
“You're an Auror, Draco,” Hermione said, trying to sound calm, though her throat threatened to choke up again. “And I will kill Harry for sending you on that case.”
“Auror?” He sat back down on his bed; Hermione could see the telltale signs on his face that he was struggling to comprehend what they had just told him. “Working for Potter?”
She made a tentative step forward. “Yes. A really good one. You just made a bad decision in your last case, and you went missing for a few days. I... We... Everyone...” She stopped; she had so many things she wanted to tell him, yet she couldn't get the words out. She wanted to yell at him for taking the case, and then she just wanted to hold him, tell him that everything was okay. Instead, she sat down on the only chair in the room, feeling overwhelmed by it all once more.
Draco watched her sit down, his eyes still cold, but no longer lifeless-they were a stormy grey, showing the confusion that must be raging inside him. Taking a deep breath, he raked through his hair, switching between looking at Hermione and his mother. “What now?”
“Come back home with me,” Hermione said, whispering because her voice didn't allow for anything more.
“I don't know... I mean I barely know you, Hermione.”
“We do have a spare room you could use if that's more comfortable for you.” She couldn't look at him any longer, it hurt too much; instead, she just stared at her fidgeting hands. “Please...” For endlessly long seconds, she only heard whispers coming from the Malfoys, sounding like a low argument between the two.
“Go with her, Draco,” Narcissa ordered, loud enough for Hermione to hear, and clearly demanding authority. “I don't have the capacities to properly take care of you. She can.”
Hermione looked up, and saw how they both glared at each other, but Narcissa clearly winning the silent battle, because Draco agreed to the arrangement with a single nod, albeit with defiantly clenched jaws-it was evident that he didn't like it. But at least she could take him home now, even though it wasn't as she had hoped-it would clearly be the saddest Valentine's Day ever since they got together.
.xx.
A week later
The week that followed was hard, almost unbearable. Draco had remained wary and standoffish, and Hermione tried to give him the space he needed to get accustomed to the new situation. She tried to help him with showing him the pictures they had taken during those five years that were missing in his memory, but he looked at them as if they were showing someone else, never saying much, only sometimes asking for details. But for Hermione, the hardest parts were the nights, when she missed him desperately, and all she could do was cry herself to sleep. He was sleeping next door, but the distance between them had never felt any greater. She just wanted her old Draco back, who always tried to make her smile when she felt down, or who would just pull her into an embrace and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Because nothing was okay right now. Absolutely and utterly nothing.
“Morning,” he said when she came in that morning, perusing the current edition of the Daily Prophet, and sipping lazily at his coffee. “Your tea is ready on the counter.”
It took her a moment to fully apprehend what he had just said in what seemed to be a passing remark. “My tea?” she asked, surprised, when she saw the mug that was kept warm with a well-placed Heating Charm. Confused was an understatement, as his remark had been so unexpected-especially after a week of living awkwardly in this flat while unsuccessfully trying to trigger his memory. Was it a first sign? Could she dare to hope?
“You always have a mug of tea first-drop of milk, no sugar-before you have your cup of coffee,” he added, still focusing on the paper in front of him. “That's why you always get up earlier so that you wouldn't be late for work. And sometimes you still left without your coffee because your hair took too long-”
“You remember?” She was baffled. Was his memory coming back, however slowly? And of all the memories buried in his head, he remembered how she liked her morning drinks first. And he even remembered how she liked her morning tea.
He nodded tentatively, and took another sip of his coffee. “It came to me when I made my coffee. I don't know why.”
With a shy, but hopeful smile, she took her mug and sat down opposite him. “Thanks.”
“I feel like I need to say something,” he continued, folding the newspaper to put it away. “I know that something is wrong with me, Hermione. It's like a big black wall in my head.” He sighed. “Whenever you showed me those pictures of us in the last five years, I tried to remember, because I know they are in here.” He tapped on his temple. “I just can't access it. And it's frustrating because it feels like a part of me is missing-”
“The Healers said it might take time,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on her tea mug she was holding with both hands.
For a moment, silence lay heavy between them. “The pictures looked happy,” Draco finally said, breaking the silence; his voice sounded more like pensive hush. “Were we... I mean, were we happy as a couple?”
She nodded. “We were.” She forced herself to look at him, and noticed the honest expression that matched his pensive tone. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ease the tightening feeling in her chest. “We fought a lot at the beginning, but we made it work. I mean-I... You asked me to marry you, after all.”
“Would you,” he started, with a surprisingly apprehensive tone in his voice, but then stopped. “Could you-”
“Tell you about it?”
He nodded; his fingers were absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his mug.
“Well,” she said quietly, trying to figure out what she could tell him without hurting too much herself. “Everyone thought it would be one of those big moments, like some big event with you kneeling down in front of me to propose. But instead, you organised a small get away to Italy. And one evening there-I think we were trying to find a place to eat-we crossed the square in front of the village church, and-and you suddenly stopped, saying something about the perfect moment, and kneeled down. It really was perfect, you know? The moment, the location, the mood, just everything.”
“We were in Italy?”
“Yes.” She smiled softly at the memory-he had been stammering, completely failing to keep his cool, while she had been rendered speechless, only able to nod vigorously. But then she felt a small sting in her heart that he didn't remember that moment with her. She sighed deeply. “You know what I always loved? You placing kisses on my forehead while we hug, it always makes me feel safe. Or-or that you love brushing through my hair in the morning.”
“I love that little sound you make when I do that,” he said, head on his hands, gazing at her rather absent-mindedly.
Hermione gasped at his words, and her heart skipped a beat. To avoid spilling her tea all over her hands, she put her tea mug back on the table with rather shaking hands. “Please, don't,” she whispered.
“What?” But then he realised and sighed, rubbing his face briefly. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I said it; it just came to my mind.”
“I-It's okay. I know it's not easy for you...”
“I didn't mean to upset you.” He smiled faintly. “I know it's not easy for you either. I mean you look like you don't get a lot of sleep-”
“I just...” But Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell him that she couldn't sleep because she missed him lying beside her, that she missed not being to hold him, or just to talk to him like they used to. “It's not easy, yes. I just wish there was something that could help you.”
He reached for her hand in what was probably an unconscious move to soothe her. “You're help enough.”
It wasn't the first time that he tried to hold her hand, but this time Hermione flinched ever so slightly. As much as she longed for his touch, she just couldn't stand it right now; she was too confused, and his gentle touch just made it worse. “I think I'm going to have my coffee in our-my bed room,” she said, swallowing hard. Trying to keep a sigh from escaping, she got up to get her coffee before leaving the kitchen.
His lips a thin line, Draco nodded. “I'm going out for a walk later.”
.xx.
The same day, afternoon
“Draco.” Narcissa was sitting in her usual spot in the corner of the window at the tea shop, and surprised to see her son approach her table.
“Mother.” He sat down, and leaned back.
“How do you know where I would be?” she asked, discreetly waving the waitress.
“You've always come here...”
“Only for the last three years. You remembered it.” She smiled softly. Then the waitress arrived and she ordered for both of them. “So, tell me, how are you? How's Hermione?”
He looked at her for a moment, weighing his answer. He had come to her because she was the one person he remembered he could talk to. With five years wiped from his memory, he didn't quite know who his friend was, and who wasn't. But your mother would always be your mother. “It's limbo. I really try to remember, but there's only a black hole in my head. I'm at the point that I would give my fortune to just be able to remember those five years again.”
“What about her?”
The waitress came back with Narcissa's order, so Draco waited with his answer. He had been thinking about Hermione on his way here, about how she had pulled her hand back when he had touched it this morning, or how upset she had been when she left the kitchen. He had hurt her without meaning to-all he wanted was to finally remember what he was missing. Because he wanted to see Hermione smile again. “She is suffering.”
“And you don't like to see her suffer,” Narcissa said, and poured her tea before offering to do the same for him.
“No.” He pushed his cup towards her, and sighed. “It's like I'd rather want to see her smile.” He saw the soft smile on his mother's face widen, and it just confused him. “What?”
“Nothing,” she replied, putting a single piece of sugar in her cup.
“Mother, please. Just tell me.”
But instead of answering, Narcissa poured tea in his cup and added a dash of milk, just how he still liked it. “Here.” After handing him his cup, she took a first sip from hers. “It's just your head that's confused. But your heart still knows what it wants. Trust your heart, not your head for once.”
“I...” Draco stopped because he didn't actually know what he wanted to say. His mother was right, his head was confused, but his heart knew what it wanted. It was just so odd-he barely knew the Hermione he now lived with, and yet he missed her presence more and more each night when he retreated to his temporary room for the night. The bed he slept in always felt so empty, and just so wrong, without her in it. And every time he saw her trying to hide her upset emotions because he couldn't remember, he longed to just take her in his arms. “Thanks.” Still thinking about his mother's words, he took a first sip from his cup.
.xx.
The next morning
The next morning, Hermione woke up to find herself wrapped up in arms, and her back pressed against a chest. Yet, she clearly remembered having gone to bed alone, even crying herself to sleep once again. Her heart beating faster, and simply curious, she turned around in his arms. “Draco?” she whispered, stroking her thumb over his cheek. He looked so peaceful, as if nothing had happened to him. “Draco? Wake up, please.”
“Hm?” He stirred, even pulled her closer, but didn't open his eyes.
Hermione's soft smile widened. This was how they used to wake up on lazy weekends, arms wrapped around each other, legs entangled. “Open your eyes, please.”
He shook his head, but Hermione could see a sly smirk in the corners of his lips.
“Why are you here?”
Now he did open his eyes, only to look straight in hers. “I missed you.”
Hermione's heart did a double take hearing that, and she couldn't stop a gasp from escaping. “Y-You remember?”
He shook his head, and placed his hand on hers that was still brushing over his cheek. “Only very small things, a few images. I'm sorry.”
“I-It's okay.”
“No, it's not. I made a mistake, and you suffer.”
“Draco, really, it's-”
No, Hermione.” He shook his head adamantly. “No. I want to remember all those details about you, about us. It annoys me that I can't, as much as I try. It's just one black wall in my head.” He pushed one of her more obstinate strands behind the ear. “I wish I could comfort you, not be the cause for... you know?”
She nodded hesitantly. “It will come back.” Hearing him talk like this about it all, she felt like having her old Draco back for a moment-her heart beat slightly faster, but she tried to contain her rising expectation.
“Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that I missed you next to me when I tried to fall asleep yesterday. I just couldn't without you.”
“Is that why you came here?” she asked, whispering. She held her breath because she couldn't believe what he was telling her. This was her old Draco, the one she loved so much, breaking through.
He nodded.
“I missed you too.” Hermione closed her eyes when she felt him gently trace her neck and jaw with his index finger, it felt so incredibly tender. She only opened them again when he tilted her head upwards ever so slightly that she was looking straight at him now; as much as she tried, she couldn't contain her relieved smile any longer, nor the happy racing of her heart.
Smiling warmly as well, he brushed his lips on hers, as if he was unsure to proceed.
Hermione felt a shiver going through her body; having missed the touch of his lips so much, it felt like the best kiss in a long time, even if it had only been a simple brush. “Draco, I... What...?”
Tilting her head up even a bit higher, Draco claimed her lips fully in a deep kiss, like two lovers that had been apart for too long and had to rediscover everything anew. “Let's make new memories,” he finally said, breathing heavily. “Let's go to Italy.”
“Yes,” Hermione exclaimed, feeling rather light-headed and happy in this moment, before kissing him once more, more fervently this time. She had him back, and nothing would take him from her ever again.
END