Always Something - Dramione

Chapter 3

With the children reintroduced, and Hermione thoroughly examined by St. Mungo's medical staff and deemed healthy in every way but her memory, Dr. Berlant suggested she return home, and wait.

"Being in your usual surroundings may help, and consider working your way through this list of cognitive and affective stimuli."

The list contained nothing she and Draco wouldn't have been able to think of for themselves, but it focused their energies, helping her alleviate the nagging sense that a malicious Death Eater conspiracy was driving the whole thing. Draco would go through the motions of the list with her, but he believed the memory loss would persist until he found out exactly what went wrong in the accident, and reversed the process with a combination of mechanics and magic. The bitterest irony remained the fact that the best answer was probably in her mind somewhere, currently beyond their reach.

The first item on the list was to go home. As they discharged her, Nurse Whalen returned Hermione's wand to her, 10 ¾ inches of vine wood.

"There. Now there, finally, is something that looks just as it should," Hermione said.

Beside her, Draco cringed.

Since she didn't remember anything about the flat where they lived, she agreed to let him side-along apparate her there from the lawn of St. Mungo's. She seemed pleased enough with the neighbourhood when they arrived, following him up a small flight of stairs to a glossy black door with a brass knob in its centre. The door opened at his touch, typical Malfoy family magic. He stood back and let her cross the threshold ahead of him.

The children were in the kitchen, along with a friend, a young boy — or girl — the same height as Cassie but carrying herself more like she was the same age as Paul. The three of them looked like they'd been caught at something and started to withdraw toward the stairs at the sight of the adults.

"Wait," Draco called after them. "Hermione, you remember Goyle, right?"

She brightened. "Yes. I helped haul him out of fiendfyre."

"That's right," Draco cheered. "Well, look at the result of your good deed. This is his daughter, Griselda. She's been Paul's best mate forever."

Gris blushed, nodding, unsure of how to behave when being introduced to someone she'd known her whole life.

Hermione nodded in return. "Nice to see you again, Griselda."

Paul grabbed a handful of his friend's sleeve, tugging her out of the kitchen. "Let's go, Gris."

"Where are you going?" Draco called after him.

"To my room."

"Bring Cassie."

"No."

"Pollux, I said bring Cassie."

His bedroom door slammed, but then it opened and closed again, quietly, as Gris brought Cassie inside.

"Aren't you a mean dad," Hermione said.

Draco scoffed. "Maybe you really did revert to the mind of an eighteen-year-old girl — one with no idea about teenaged boys."

"Are we talking about that teenaged boy and that Miss Goyle? From the looks of them, I'll bet they're not each other's type."

He shook his head. "It's not that simple, Hermione. You watch her watching him, when she thinks no one's paying any attention. I know that look. So no matter how she cuts her hair, I don't want Miss Goyle lounging around alone with Paul, locked away in his bedroom. Not at their age."

Hermione crossed her arms. "The most important relationships of my life were with teenaged boys when I was their age. And I survived months and months of traveling alone with them unscathed."