Obliviate

Chapter 19

The Room of Requirement had a way of listening. It never spoke, but sometimes it felt like it breathed in rhythm with them; waiting, shaping itself to what they needed before they even realised they wanted it.

Tonight, it was warm and dim, a kind of twilight inside four walls. The golden-leafed Tree stretched high, branches brushing the ceiling, its glow soft and comforting. Cushions sprawled like stepping stones across the floor, parchment and quills scattered where Lily and Scorpius had been pretending to study.

Neither of them had made much progress on homework. It was hard to focus when there were bigger mysteries tugging at their minds.

Scorpius leaned back against the trunk, his long legs stretched out, arms folded loosely. He looked restless, like he couldn't sit still, though his body refused to move. Lily sat cross-legged on the rug, quill twirling absently in her hand, her eyes fixed on the shimmer of the leaves.

She opened her mouth to ask him what he thought it all meant. But before the words came out, the room itself shifted. Lily felt her stomach turn, she knew that sensation now. An Echo was forming.

The cushions rippled beneath them. The glow of the Tree stretched, then faded, and suddenly they weren't in their quiet hideaway anymore.

Stone walls rose around them, cold and grey. A corridor. Torchlight flickered. The air smelled faintly of dust and candlewax.

Scorpius scrambled upright. "What-"

But Lily grabbed his arm, her heart leaping.

The corridor sharpened into focus. Footsteps echoed. And they both turned just in time to see-

Hermione's hand shot out, faster than Lily could process. The crack of her palm connecting with Draco's cheek echoed like thunder. He reeled back, hand pressed to his face, blond hair falling in disarray. His mouth opened as if to spit something cruel, but nothing came. His eyes widened, not with hatred, but disbelief. Respect, begrudging and sharp, burned in their depths. No one had put him in his place like this before.

Lily's chest heaved, though she wasn't truly there. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity, to cheer Hermione on, but something in Draco's expression caught her. He wasn't humiliated, he was... something else entirely.

The memory wavered. Edges blurred. The corridor melted away, replaced by warm lamplight and the quiet hush of the potions classroom.

Hermione's voice rang out, steady, though her hands fidgeted on the edge of the desk.
"Fresh-cut grass... new parchment... and... spearmint toothpaste..."

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. She stopped herself, unwilling to say more. Lily felt her throat tighten. She knew exactly what Hermione was naming: the personal scents of Amortentia, the most powerful love potion.

But what startled her wasn't Hermione. It was Draco.

He sat across the room, silent, watching. Not with his usual smirk, not with derision. His storm-grey eyes followed every syllable Hermione uttered, each one etched into him as if it were vital. His jaw twitched, as if holding back words. He didn't look away when she caught him staring.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, ducking her head back to her parchment, pretending she hadn't noticed.

Lily's pulse quickened. The scene dissolved again, the classroom fading into shadows that reformed into towering shelves.

The library.

Hermione sat alone, parchment stacked neatly in front of her, ink stains smudging her fingertips. The lamplight caught the frizz of her curls, the quill scratching quickly across a scroll. She didn't look up as the air stirred. Draco entered.