When Love Hurts | Dramione - COMPLETED

Pensieve

Hermione's POV 

Hermione yawned, reaching for a glass of cold milk. 

The ball had been proclaimed a major success, though the only good thing that came out of it was Mr. Weasley's memories. She had barely danced, but her head ached and all she wanted to do was sleep. 

But that couldn't be done, because it was Christmas Eve tonight, and Hermione hadn't gotten presents for anyone. 

Yes, the organized, neat, meticulous nerd was procrastinating. 

"Do you think I could pop down by Diagon Alley today?" Hermione blushed, trying not to convey the fact to the Malfoys that she had yet to buy her gifts. 

"And me as well," Draco interjected, spreading butter on his toast. 

Hermione shot him a quick, victorious smirk. So he hadn't gotten his presents either. 

"Of course. I have some business down that way to attend to as well," Narcissa rose from the table. "Let us meet down here at 9:15, yes?" 

"Thanks, Mrs. Ma - Black," Hermione chirped, finishing her milk. 

An hour later, all of them were ready. Narcissa repeated the standard procedure of Dissaparation before leaving them by themselves in Diagon Alley. 

"Where to?" Draco asked. 

Hermione responded by dragging him to the nearest shop.

oOo

"Oh, I'm exhausted!" Hermione sighed, setting down one small bag. After hours of painful shopping, they had finally bought all they needed. 

"How do you only have one bag?" Draco demanded, dropping his bags on the floor. 

"It's called a shrinking spell," Hermione arrogantly said, displaying the loads of tiny bags in the one bag. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Could you please take this, Taffy?" Taffy nodded enthusiastically, Apparating all the bags under the extremely large tree. 

"You go all out in Christmas," Hermione observed, watching the fake snow fall softly and disappear, and the silver decorations adorning the walls. 

"It's all Mother," Draco shakes his head. He glanced around.

"She's not here. Neither is Taffy," Hermione suddenly said. "Let's view Mr. Weasley's memories."

"Now?" Draco hesitantly said. "On Christmas Eve?"

"Why not?" Hermione started up the stairs. "You do have a Pensieve, right?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, but - "

"Let's do it," Hermione disappeared upstairs, re-emerging with the memories tightly clasped in her hand. Draco followed her upstairs, already resigned to whatever she wanted to do.

A minute later the two were in front of the Pensieve, the memories swirling in it.

Hermione nodded at Draco, and they both plunged their heads in. 

At once, they were sucked into a memory of a young Arthur Weasley. 

Draco frowned. "Why is there orange streaks around the sides?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Merlin."

"What?" Draco demanded. 

"I didn't, uh, have a bottle to put his memories in," Hermione muttered. 

"And?" Draco prompted. 

"So I took a sauce bottle that - and, um, it still had some sauce in it," Hermione mumbled quickly.