White Otter || Dramione (Draco Malfoy)

37

"Look, Hermione, it just seemed irrelevant. You never had anything to say about him, and so I presumed you would just want to forget."

"Yes, but to not even mention it though... it makes me wonder what else you've failed to tell me."

I shook my head in disappointment, sitting back in the armchair as I stared into the fire. Having finally caught up with Harry, I'd confronted him about his choice to keep silent on the fact that I'd been tutoring Draco.

"I promise you, I've told you everything I remember." Harry implored, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I mean, I could have lied and told you that Ron and I threw you a sick seventeenth birthday party, but I was honest and admitted we were too wrapped up in our own selfish lives to bother."

"Yeah... thanks for that," I muttered wryly, wishing that he'd actually lied about that one.

I couldn't help but think about the library books I'd discovered in my nightstand. Every single one of them taken out of the restricted section, all on Dark Magic. What was I trying to research? It didn't seem to comply with any of the Defence Against the Dark Arts topics that my assignments had been covering.

I thought briefly about asking Harry, but he was far too obsessed with the upcoming Quidditch match, and was focussed solely on getting the team up to par. So helping me recover my missing memories was right down at the bottom of his list of priorities.

And Ron - still in the hospital wing - was just as in the dark of my previous comings and goings as I was.

"Sounds like you just wanted to do some extra swotting," he shrugged when I brought the books up to him during visiting hours, "I don't know why you're so worried. It's very you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Have you told Lavender it's over yet or are you still giving her your best Sleeping Beauty performance?"

A shadow fell across his face. "Don't, Hermione. The last thing I want to do is hurt her."

"Yet, that's exactly what you are doing by not being honest and letting her move on! She thinks this is all down to me and that I'm trying to steal you from her!"

"Well," Ron said, going a deep shade of red as he avoided my gaze, "would it be so bad if she did think that?"

Merlin, was he completely clueless?

"Yes, Ron," I said sharply, "it really would. It's bad enough that I've got this blank space in my mind without having the extra ordeal of getting in the middle of your relationship dramas."

"But..." he mumbled quietly, almost bashfully, "do you see a chance... you know, if I officially end it with Lav, that maybe you and I could...?"

He tailed off at seeing the expression on my face.

"Look," he implored when I sat in stony silence, glaring at him, "I only started kissing Lavender because I was fed up of you putting me down. She stroked my ego when I needed it. She could have been anyone!"

"If that's meant to woo me, Ronald Weasley," I said, my voice shaking in anger as I slowly got to my feet, "then I suggest you work on your chat up lines. Goodbye."

That Saturday, I sat in the stands and watched as Harry got his skull cracked open during his much anticipated Quidditch match.

I'd say he was careless, but clearly I was not one to talk.

*****

Draco washed the glistening white mess off his hand, feeling guilty as fuck that he was using memories she no longer had.