Legilimens [Dramione]

I know what you are

Just as he was basking in humiliation over the memory, firmly imprinted in his mind, of what had happened the other night at the restaurant, Hermione's owl knocked on his window. 

He ran to grab the message: it informed him that she had made progress on his father's case and had some good news to announce, and that their next meeting would probably be their last. 

Oddly enough, that news didn't make him feel as happy as it should have.

Hermione had been brilliant: she had improved greatly with occlumency. And he was about to get his reward for his part in their deal. All according to plan, if not better. He had even accelerated and anticipated what were his initial expectations.

The real problem, however, what really prevented him from fully enjoying his first victory in over a year of defeats and humiliations, was the fact that he had not been able to quell the doubts that plagued him about her.
In fact, they had only grown larger.
The more time he spent with her, the more the mystery that seemed to revolve around her deepened, and for some absurd reason his mind wouldn't give up.

Spending time with Hermione had awakened his slumbering mind, had rekindled that something inside him that he thought he had lost the moment that horrible mark had been etched on his forearm.   

 He had no intention of letting go of the doubts that surrounded her. He wouldn't have been able even if he had wanted to, but he had now reached the point where he had to admit to himself that he didn't want to. Thinking about her was the only thing able to rid him of his nightmares, even where occlumency failed. 

He lay down on the bed, clutching Hermione's letter in his hands as the idea he had formulated only the other day made its way through his mental barriers like a woodworm through wood.

The mystery of the strange letter from St. Mungo's had created a breach in his defenses, and he decided to surrender to his  stream of thoughts, letting them carry him.  He was no longer afraid to let go, he realized. He had no longer fear of being alone with himself. It wouldn't be Voldemort's face manifesting behind his eyelids as soon as he closed his eyes: Hermione Granger's sullen expression had managed to wash him away. 

He let his doubts guide his stream of consciousness. What did Hermione's parents have to do with all of it? 

He vaguely remembered seeing them once, many years ago, at the book shop before the start of the school year.

He also knew that the Death Eaters went looking for them during the war, but found their house empty. He had breathed a huge sigh of relief that day, realizing how truly insane was what Voldemort, his father, and he himself were doing.

  From what he had read, they were apparently at St. Mungo's. It was absurd: what were Muggles doing at St. Mungo's? 
Had Death Eaters perhaps managed to find them? he couldn't remember that happening. Perhaps they had captured them and tortured them until they went insane?  He felt bad for her just thinking about it.
Since when was he such an empathetic person?
Knowing that it was now useless to lie to himself, and abandoning any false promise to stop thinking about Hermione, he decided to indulge in those feelings that were tormenting his stomach and do some research on the man in the letter, Dr. Richard Friedrich.

***

It wasn't until a few days later, and after several sleepless nights, that Draco knew all about the man. Apparently he was a specialist in memory spells, which had led him to rack his brains over the various explanations that could connect him to Hermione and her Muggle parents.
If he'd had that curiosity not so long ago, all it would have take was his name or some galleon in his vault to gain access to all the medical records he wanted.
But of course that wasn't how things worked anymore, and -very deep down- a part of him knew it was right.