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Hermione tossed and turned that night, unable to escape her vivid dreams. She needed peaceful sleep. She needed true rest, but it wasn’t happening tonight. Or any other night the past few months. Instead of blissful REM, her nights were filled with strikingly realistic imagery and a sense of… of wrongness, and she would often wake up more tired than she was when going to bed. Often with awful headaches too.
Nothing seemed to help. No matter the amount of Dreamless Sleep she would take or the litres of chamomile tea she drank in the afternoon and in the evening. The dream always caught up with her.
She turned to her other side in exasperation, shoving the edge of the blanket under her cheek. As she let out a loud sigh, the dream pulled her under again.
She was running.
The woods were dark and only faint slivers of moonlight were getting through the rich canopy of leaves over her head. She had no idea where she was going or even if she was running in the right direction, and not into a trap. O nly knew that she was running from something or someone. The leaves to her left rustled, Hermione bolted down an overgrown path until she reached a clearing.
She whipped around, thinking she spotted a light out of the corner of her eyes. And then again and again. Hermione spun in circles, feeling surrounded.
And then there was nothing.
No light or a sound.
She allowed herself to get lulled into an unwarranted sense of security when the woods were quiet for a moment.
Her chest was heaving as she leaned against her knees, trying to catch her breath. Hermione looked around the small clearing in the middle of the forest, pressing her palm into her side as she tried to ignore the painful sting just under her ribcage. Her lungs were on fire and there was a metallic taste on her tongue.
And that was a mistake. With a branch snapping close behind her, she picked up pace too afraid to look back as she jumped over a fallen tree. If they were right behind her, she preferred not to know.
The forest grew darker and darker as if the night had just begun and the sunrise was hours away. Distracted by her thoughts, Hermione forgot to mind where she was running, catching her foot on a vine. Hermione broke her fall with her arms. The ground beneath vibrated with the approaching footsteps.
“Not so fast now,” a deep voice crooned over her, pinning her down with his foot. Hermione froze, her eyes widening in horror at being caught. Breathing heavily, she felt her heart in her throat. Then the pressure on her spine was gone, and the stranger knelt next to her, brushing hair away from the side of her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, too afraid to face what surely was a monster, as his gloved fingers lightly grazed over her cheek. “Can’t believe I’ve found you again,” he whispered.
Hermione shot up to a seated position, her chest heaving. Her fists were tightened around the sheets, knuckles turning white under the force of her grip. She instinctively reached for her wand, only to remember that she no longer had it with her.
The door of her room flew open, and Harry nearly fell in face first wand in hand. “Are you okay?” he asked as his eyes darted around the darkened room.
She nodded, pushing hair out of her face. “Yeah, it was just a bad dream.”
“Again?” Harry frowned, walking over, and sitting down on the edge of her bed. “You screamed bloody murder, I actually thought someone was pulling your guts out.”
Hermione crinkled her nose at the vivid imagery. She felt the dream slowly slipping away from her, the details getting fuzzier by the second. “It was different this time though. I- I saw him. I know him too,” she sighed. Harry gaze was intense. “I- I just can’t remember. He said something as well.”
Harry tried not to look disappointed but the down-turned corners of his mouth said enough. It was weeks upon weeks of her nightmares, and she knew nothing more now as she did weeks ago. Thank god, she had a friend like Harry, always coming to check on her. Making sure she was alright.
They always started the same: The stranger was chasing her, but it was the locations that varied; through woods, Hogwarts, a hedge maze and dozens of other locations Hermione lost track of. But tonight was different. Tonight, he caught her. She heard his voice, felt his touch. That had never happened before. And something twisted inside of her. She wanted to meet him again. She had questions that needed answering.
“Go back to sleep, Harry,” Hermione said, patting his hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a dream after all.” She smiled at him.
She was back in the maze, at some clearing towards the centre of the maze, looking down two paths. She had to choose where she wanted to go. She did not know how she got there; from which path she came. It’s as if she got just planted there and only the decisions she made from that point onwards mattered.
Hermione jerked when a stranger pressed the tip of his wand into her neck, sneaking an arm across her chest as he pulled her flush against his front. “And so we meet again. You have no idea how long I was looking for you,” he whispered, uncomfortably close to her ear.
His velvet sounding voice and warm breath brushing against her neck sent shivers down her spine.
“What do you want from me?” she mumbled, still in shock. He’d sneaked up on her soundlessly, startling her.
“I am trying to warn you. They cannot be trusted, Hermione. They’d rather let you die than allow destiny to run its course.”
“What are you talking about? Who are they?”
“Ask yourself, Hermione, what do you remember from your life? Aren’t there chunks mysteriously missing? Why are you locked away in a house without a wand to defend yourself?” he drawled, a hint of anger seeping into his voice towards the end. Hermione gulped, a sense of dread washing over her as she contemplated his words. “I am the one person you can trust, Hermione. We are one; one soul, one mind – one destiny. Please, remember.” There was urgency in his voice now.
Hermione’s heart was beating out of her chest, her mind racing. And the realization sinking in. “Why- why can’t you just tell me? Give me a hint! Anything!”
“Trust me,” he breathed out against her ear, “I would do the very last thing in the world for you. But this I cannot. I shouldn’t even be here. Your mind is the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen, you will crack it, Hermione. I believe in you. But now, wake up.”
She woke up with a scream and only seconds later George busted through her door again asking about her dream.
Hermione threw her head back into the pillow the second George was gone. The stranger had successfully planted a seed of doubt into her mind and watered it just enough for it to take its roots. Why was she trusting a word of a stranger more than her friends? A word of a stranger from her dreams no less.
But the more she thought about it the more aware she became aware of gaps in her memory. It started with small dark splotches here and there; things that one would probably consider probably unimportant details, but these felt… different. The gaps became more and more prominent as time went on and then suddenly there was a black hole. It spanned 6 months, maybe more. There were gaps in her memory recently too. She could feel 2 smaller fragments missing after that large blackout. Someone was tampering with her memories - that was crystal clear to her now.
Determined to figure how the people closest to her stole her memories and even more deadset on remembering, Hermione carried several books on memory charms, potions, Occlumency and dreams into her room, hiding them in her closet. There must have been some other way besides Obliviate.
One by one eliminating each curse, hex, potion, and anything else in between. Approaching it from that end seemed to be leading nowhere and as weeks dragged on, Hermione was getting more and more desperate. She prayed that even the stranger would get antsy and reach out to her again. Hermione was searching for a needle in a haystack. Finding anything of value would be such a huge coincidence that it was nearly in the realm of impossible. Giving up on wand magic and potions, her attention turned to Occlumency. Maybe if she trained her mind hard enough to hide and unearth memories on call, maybe and only just maybe she would be able to reach behind the black heavy curtain shrouding her memory.
The practice was needed also for her safety in the house. She so far wasn’t aware of anyone picking through her mind, but if he was right – it’s not something they would be hesitant to do. The longer she managed to play the charade, the sooner she would find out who he was.
Training her mind wasn’t easy, but Hermione was confident she was making progress. Not in uncovering the hidden, but burying the discovered.
With weeks passing she grew to realize she didn’t have much time left. She could feel herself getting weaker. They were running out of time.
Hermione gasped for air as she landed headfirst in a pile of fallen leaves.
Finally! She was back.
She enjoyed being outside, even if in a dream. Feeling the leaves crunch under her weight, the breeze on her skin, squinting into the sun – it made her feel free. A sensation her mind struggled to remember.
“Thank god, you are okay…” he breathed out somewhere behind her, relief palpable in his voice. Hermione’s heart fluttered. His voice sounded familiar, but her mind could not put a face to it. It had been so long since she last heard his voice that Hermione had started to doubt whether he was actually real or just her imagination running wild. He reached as if to check if something had happened to her. His hands insistent, but oddly gentle. His breath and hands against her skin felt like home, though she had no idea who he was .“I was worried that… No!” His hands were heavy on her, “don’t turn around!”
“But I want to see you! I am making progress – I think, but it’s going so slow…” she said, unable to hide her frustration. She hated not knowing, only having a glimpse of what was going on.
“I know, I know. But you can’t see me. Not until you remember. Then you will see all of me, I promise, Hermione,” he said, sitting down behind her. “Close your eyes and promise not to open them. Not even a little.”
Hermione sighed, nodding as she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt him lean over her, his shadow blocking the sun as he ran fingers through her hair.
“I love you, Hermione,” the stranger whispered before pressing a kiss into her forehead. “And I cannot wait to see you again in real life.”
Hermione jerked herself awake, head resting against an open book on her pillow.
I love you... I love you.
The sentence echoed through her mind. He loved her and she didn’t even know who he was. It broke her heart.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he must feel. Hermione was the lucky one in the situation. She was living in blissful oblivion, but he was living every day knowing she’s somewhere out there and he had no way of getting to her outside of her dreams.
If Hermione was interpreting his words correctly, they were presumably close twice times but then her mind got wiped again and he had to start over. Chase her, catch her, convince her and hope that the next time they meet, she will remember. Poor him, the emotional torture he must have been going through.
Hermione started to get up when she noticed where the book was open.
Dreams & Soul Bonds.
Breath hitched in her throat as she quickly skimmed the page.
Soulmates… Soul-bonding ceremony… Generally able to harness more power when together… Able to communicate outside of the usual channels. Reported cases of telepathy or visiting each other in dreams… If the ceremony is not completed within a year, death is inevitable.
Death is inevitable.
They would rather let you die than let destiny run its course, his words floated back to the surface of her mind.
They were soul mates. They were soul bonded. And they had a year to complete it – whatever that meant. 12 months. She already wasted almost 2 months at this point, flopping around. Her first blank spot after the major blackout was around 6 months ago. Which meant, their time was running out. Hermione gulped, hiding her face in her hands. They could be dead in less than 4 months.
She frowned at the formulation of ‘within a year’. What does that even mean? Within 12 months? Or within the calendar year? Seeing as it was the end of October, the second option was worse than bad.
Hermione didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think.
Her own friends were lying to her face: wiping her memory to their convenience. Keeping such an important part of her life away from her. How could they do that? She was a prisoner, it was more than obvious at that point.
Hermione could barely look them in the eye the next morning, filled with fear she would just burst into tears. She was disappointed, angered, disgusted and everything in between. A cloth has been removed from her eyes, and she finally saw this for what it was. All the hushed conversations that would stop whenever she got too close, secret meetings, odd looks… She was with the Order, but not a member of the Order.
Only getting to this point took her weeks, they had no time to lose. They were another couple of weeks from dying. She couldn’t fail now.
Hermione blinked, shivering as the cold night air hit her. She was in Hogwarts, hiding in an alcove. It was calm and quiet. Too quiet.
“Enjoying the view?” the stranger whispered in her ear, startling her. She hadn’t heard t him approach. She knew she wasn’t allowed to look at him, so she pushed down her curiosity, and kept her eyes on the darken sky.
“It’s frustrating, you know,” she responded. Hermione was sure he just quirked a brow as silent ‘huh’ escaped him. “Not remembering. I am almost certain all these places you take me to are meaningful to you… To us. But I just don’t see it.” The stars were visible tonight, a magnificent sight. She missed that, there was never such a view out of her bedroom window.
“It will come to you eventually,” he reassured her but the conviction in his voice was lacking. He was losing hope, he didn’t believe in her. At least not as much as before.
“Not even you believe that…”.
He grabbed her hand without a word, squeezing it. Hermione widened her eyes at their hands as he intertwined their fingers. He wasn’t wearing gloves, he was really touching her. Skin to skin. His massive hand almost swallowed hers. It looked right. Her hand in his. . She noticed an indentation on his index finger. It looked like he usually wore a ring but had taken it off. Perhaps to ensure she couldn’t identify him.
“I never did and never will give up on you,” he whispered. Hermione nodded, though he couldn’t see her, distracted by his touch. “You’re everything, Hermione. I can’t...If I give up on you, I’m giving up on myself. On us… I’m not gonna do that, okay?”
She bobbed her head again, feeling silly for doubting him. If he wanted to give up, he would have. Hell, she failed twice before. Failed him.
“Hermione?”
“Wh- Oh! Okay,” she breathed out. “The house is guarded by Fidelius Charm,” Hermione blurted out. The realization hit her earlier that week and she cursed herself for not knowing earlier. How fogged her brain must have been to miss it? His thumb rubbing soft circles into her hand stopped at her news. “I- I just don’t remember where it is…”
He sighed. “That explains it… How did I not think of that before?”
“Explains what?”
“Why I cannot feel you.” A pause. “Before… Before I felt where you were. Approximately. The more distance between us the more anxious I would feel. Now I don’t feel anything. No, that’s a lie — I feel empty. My chest feels hollow and my soul, if I even have some left at this point, is just a black hole of nothingness.”
Hermione gulped, suddenly way too aware of the emptiness inside of her. It felt shredded to pieces, obliterated, blown up to smithereens. It felt foreign. She cleared her throat. “I know about the soulbond…” she continued her confession. “I know we are dying.”
The stranger drew a sharp breath. Hermione waited for his reaction, anxiously chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I… - Oh, okay,” he said on an exhale.
“I still don’t know who you are,” she whispered and his hand jerked. “But I trust you. I trust you with my life. So why can’t I see you? It doesn’t matter who you are. Not anymore. We are dying. Please, make it easier for me — I cannot figure this out on my own. I need to know. . I need you. Please.” Turning towards the corner he was hiding behind, she added, “I know it’s not necessary for anything, my mind won’t melt under the spell if you show yourself to me. You are hiding in fear I will be disappointed. Trust me, no one can disappoint me more than my friend, holding me hostage, letting me die. Letting YOU die.”
“That’s the point, Hermione,” he whispered. “To kill me. That’s been their plan all along. They are hoping that they will be able to save you after I am gone. You may survive longer than me, provided your soul is still intact, but they won’t be able to save you. Trust me, it was the first thing I tried when we failed the first time around. I tried destroying the bond to buy us time… buy you time. It’s not possible. There is no surviving this, there is no cure. If I die, you die. End of story.” She stared blankly into the darkness, trying to process his words.
‘If I die, you die’.
‘Provided your soul is still intact’.
“What? Why?” Hermione stammered, a wave of panic rising inside of her.
“If I tell you who I am and why they want me dead — will you run?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Are you sure? Even if I was a beast, you wouldn’t run?”
“Stop being so dramatic. I am not running. I am not letting us die.”
“Fine, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. ” He let go of her hand. She held her breath expectantly, eyes fixed on the curve of the wall. “Close your eyes.”
“I want to see you,” she protested.
“And you will. I want to look at your face first without it being twisted with hate and disgust.”
“Okay…” she pouted at him, even though he couldn’t see it, and closed her eyes. Her heart was hammering against her sternum. This was it. She would finally see him, after weeks of imagining what his face might look like, her imagination running wild with what could possibly match the low timbre of his voice. Unexplainably, she always pictured him with lighter eyes in contrast to her own. She imagined a dimple in one cheek too, when he spoke Hermione could often hear the tinge of a smirk and she felt like it would suit him.
Even with her eyes closed, she registered the light from the hallway getting blocked by a tall figure. She gulped as he stroked her cheek, tucking an unruly curl behind her ear. His hand felt massive against her smaller frame. Warm.
“Before you open your eyes, please, remember that I love you. I won’t do anything to hurt you,” he whispered, resting his palm against the back of her neck. The impending heartbreak was palpable in his voice and Hermione furrowed her brows. Why he was so certain she would hate him? “I am sorry for what I did. For what I had to do. I did it for us, for you, to keep you safe. In which I failed…” He pressed his lips against her forehead in what felt more like a goodbye than a hello.
Eyes still closed, Hermione raised her a shaking hand, placing it on his chest. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his heart thumbed erratically under her palm. He tried to keep his breathing under control, but his heart gave him away. He was just as nervous as her, if not more.
“Can… Can I open my eyes?” she asked softly, leaning into him. It felt comfortable standing this close to him, even in her dream. None of this was real, she realized as her heart sank.
A pregnant pause. “Sure…” He sounded reluctant.
Tilting her head back slowly, she opened her eyes and took in the man in front of her. Her soulmate.
She recognized the cloak from her first dream, her eyes travelled from the hems of the cloak up his broad chest and shoulders. He was dressed in all black - a stark contrast to the pale skin of his neck. Grazing over his sharp jawline and lips pressed into a thin line, his pointy nose, she finally met eyes.
Eyes that were fixed on her. Steel grey eyes with an unwavering gaze, determined to find every trace of disappointment, sadness and anger on her face. But he wouldn't find any. She was in awe.
“Holy cricket! You’re divine...” she blurted out, clamping a hand over her mouth as soon as the words left her mouth, surely turning beetroot red. The corner of his lips turned upwards as she stared at him, her lips slightly ajar. The smirk revealed one tiny dimple on his left cheek. She was right. The only thing she guessed correctly about him.
“I told you I won’t run,” Hermione whispered, raising her hand to touch his face as if she needed to make sure he was really there.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, the temporary relief vanishing from his face as he must realize she still had no clue. Hermione frowned at him as her fingers traced the sharp edges of his cheek, nose and jaw. He looked familiar just as his voice did the first night they spoke in her dreams. His name was just on the tip of her tongue, and yet, she couldn’t quite get to it.
“I almost have it… I can feel it,” Hermione furrowed her brows at him. He scoffed, clearly not believing her. “I mean it. Did you ever figure out what they used to make me forget? Because it’s not Obliviate…”
“I think it’s something much simpler. The Pensieve with Remotione charm, instead of Effingo.”
“Somehow that makes it all so much worse,” Hermione frowned. The idea that her memories were stored somewhere for someone’s viewing pleasure and not just removed was… unthinkable.
“Try finding the Pensieve. Find your wand and get out of the house. Just far enough to escape the Fidelius charm… I will come and get you.”
Hermione jerked herself awake.
It was 2 AM and the house seemed quiet. If she was to snoop, this seemed to be her best bet. As she dressed herself, Hermione came up with a plan.
Wand first, then Pensieve; if she couldn’t find it she would leave anyway. Nothing was keeping her there. She had nothing to lose by leaving and had all to lose by staying.
She crept downstairs on her tiptoes, freezing on the spot whenever a floorboard or a step creaked, intently listening to the house. Her feet carried her to Kingsley’s office as she prayed for it to be unlocked. Her blood froze in her veins when she found him asleep on the couch with a newspaper covering his face. His chest was raising regularly with the occasional snore escaping the paper tent over his head.
Hermione once saw him abruptly close one of the drawers of his desk when she entered the room. And that will be the first place she will look. Months without a wand forced her to practice wandless magic and she became quite good if she said so herself. As a preventative measure, she cast a quick Notice-me-not charm around her as she didn’t trust the drawer not to squeak.
She hadn’t expected to hit the jackpot on her first try and felt mildly offended that they didn’t try to hide it better. She nearly jumped when her fingers tightened around her wand; the surge of magic rushing through her veins, giving her a little bit of her lost strength back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kingsley asked, sitting up on the couch, frowning at her. Maybe her wandless magic wasn’t the strongest.
“I am leaving,” she said, raising her wand at him. “And you won’t stop me.”
“Be reasonable. There’s a war out there, Hermione. Do you really want to risk that just to feel like you are defying orders?” he quirked a brow at her.
“I don’t care about your orders or anyone else’s. I am leaving because I’ll die in a few weeks, and you clearly do not care,” she hissed at him, slowly backing up towards the door.
“Do you even know who he is?” Kingsley spat, his facade of kindness and understanding dropping away.
Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. . We are soul mates; we only have a couple of weeks to complete the bond. I am not risking my life just so you can kill him.”
“He's the general of his army.”
“He- what?”
“You heard me. He climbed through the ranks fairly quickly too. He’s not a good man, Hermione. Do you really want to desert with a war criminal?”
Her head spun. The handsome blond’s voice echoed in her head. I am sorry for what I did. For what I had to do. I did it for us, for you to keep you safe.
She squared her shoulders. “He did it for me…” she whispered, a sudden realization washing over her. Draco. The stranger’s name is Draco. “Draco— did it for me.”
A wave of memories hit her:
Their secret meetings in the dark alcoves at Hogwarts; hidden spots around the Black Lake; the maze of Malfoy Manor; at her favourite spots of Dean Forest once the war started. Him proposing with a bunch of daisies tied together because he didn’t have a ring. Her argument with Harry when he found out she was in love with a Death Eater, ignoring the fact Draco was helping the Order. Her trial for treason she supposedly committed by falling in love. Them stealing her memories. Stealing him from her. Sentencing them both to death.
Hermione blinked, coming back to her senses. She wasn’t sure what caused her to suddenly remember, perhaps the last push she needed was a direct connection to magic, but she wasn’t going to question it.
She was in love with Draco Malfoy, the big bad Slytherin himself. He was her soulmate and they were about to die if kept apart. Years ago it would sound like a twisted joke to her and Hermione would suggest anyone to check themselves into St. Mungo’s. But here she was. About to run from the Order into the arms of a Death Eater.
Kingsley opened his mouth to speak, but she shot a silent body binding curse at him, not giving him a chance to talk. She wasted enough time here already.
“I’m sorry, you did this to yourself,” she whispered to the Petrified Kingsley before storming out of the door, tears stinging in her eyes. She hurried towards the main door and ran outside. She heard a soft pop as she passed through the edge of the Fidelius Charm, she jerked a deep breath in. Almost tasting freedom in the air.
Finally, she didn’t feel like being suffocated by the very air she breathed.
Draco! Her mind screamed as she tried to will the man to appear. He told her to call him, but perhaps she should have asked how. But she hoped this would work. After all, they were supposed to feel each other's presence so maybe if she tried...
A loud crack broke the silence. She whipped around to face the source of the noise, wand at the ready. Her eyes widened at the man in front of her.
“Hermione…”