DISCLAIMER: anything you recognise, I don't own.


Her eyes suddenly opened. The peaceful serenity that was present on her face, only moments ago, disappeared, leaving confusion. It was obvious that she was scared. She didn't know where she was, or why. Being a very logical person, she tried to list everything that she knew; maybe something would give her a clue about her recent predicament.

She knew that she was lying in a bed; a bed that she had never slept in before. She knew that she was wearing a little silk nightdress; a dress that she had never worn before. She knew she was in a dark room; a room that she had never set foot in before.

She finally came to the conclusion that she didn't know much about her situation, and all that she knew didn't help her at all. She was nowhere closer to working out where she was. She got out of bed and walked around the room, making out as much as she could in the dimness of the room. The thought occurred to her that someone might have kidnapped her, knocking her out cold, and keeping her in captivity in this room. However, why would her kidnapper dress her in an elegant silk nightdress and keep her in an obviously luxurious room. It had been fitted with expensive furniture, all kept in perfect condition and the possessions were placed carefully around the room, also holding a sophisticated air to them. The possessions around the room were not hers, as she had never seen them before, but she could not distinguish whose they were. Still it would not hurt her to think the worst about her situation. That way there would not be any bad surprises.

She saw a grand looking door in front of her, on the other side of the room. She stood frozen, not sure whether she should walk towards it and open it, or remain in the unknown room, and wait for someone to come inside. Not knowing where she was, she decided that opening the door and walking outside was risky, anything could be waiting outside for her, but she hated having to wait for something to happen. She did not possess a lot of patience. Why couldn't she remember where she was? If only she knew, then she wouldn't be feeling so confused. She kicked something in her frustration, which happened to be the end on the bed. Not only did that accomplish absolutely nothing, but it also hurt her foot. It was then that the entire situation hit her and she could do nothing but fall to her knees slowly, tears forming for the hopelessness of her situation.

It was now, when she was crying her heart out, that someone entered the room, through the door she was contemplating opening a few moments ago. And this person was the last person that she would have expected.


Draco Malfoy knew that Hermione Granger was in his room. He also knew that she wouldn't know that she was in his room. He was told that. He knew that she would be surprised to see him. He knew that he was going to have to be extremely patient with her. He hated that thought; patience was not something that he possessed. If he wanted something, he got it. He always got it. But sometimes it took longer to get it than he planned. She was not going to accept his side of the story straight away, but if he gave her enough time, she would. It would have to do.

As he walked through the door, he noticed that she was no longer sleeping on the bed, where he had left her about an hour ago. Irritation filled his mind. She could be anywhere. She could have walked right out of the door and he wouldn't have noticed. He had been having breakfast in the kitchen, two floors down. She could have started walking around, and there were so many damn corridors in his manor, that she could be anywhere. He immediately started working out how he was going to find her. So consumed in planning how he was going to find the clueless girl, he walked absently towards his bed, only stopping when he tripped over the object of his thoughts. Of course, he mused, he had jumped to conclusions, realising that he had never checked around the room for Hermione. There she was wiping tears away from her eyes, startled.

Somebody had just tripped over her. As she looked around she saw the man and her eyes locked with his for a minute, both of them silent before she whispered, hate clear in her voice "Draco Malfoy."

They were both sitting on the floor, in the darkness next to the bed. He had no idea how to respond. Thankfully, he didn't have to because she continued on what he recognised as one of her rants.

"I knew you were behind this. I can't believe you. You kidnapped me and now you're going to torture me and probably hand me over to all your Slytherin friends…"

As she kept going Draco realised that she had probably forgotten more than he had suspected. Although, he thought, that could work in his favour. He couldn't help smirking, an action that wasn't lost on Hermione. He could start their story from the very beginning, and she would believe him. A thought suddenly occurred to him, so he waited for her rant to finish, before he asked

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Hermione was stunned. Why didn't she think of that? She was so consumed in discovering where she was, that she didn't think about what she could remember before today. And why did it have to Malfoy's idea. She saw him smirk as she was accusing him of kidnapping her. In her mind that just confirmed he was guilty of doing it. She didn't want to answer that question, but she was afraid of what he would do to her if she didn't. Why would he want to know anyway? But she thought back to the last thing she remembered.

"I remember," she paused. "I remember going to Diagon Alley with Harry and Ron to get our seventh year books. I remember running into you on the street. We had that fight, and then you walked away."

Draco's initial thought was how much she had forgotten. It was much more that what the healers had told him. However, Hermione was thinking about different things to him. Still convinced that he had kidnapped her, she realised that he must have taken her away at Diagon Alley because of that fight. What were Harry and Ron doing? They must be sick with worry about her. How could he do this to her? The prick. She was going to kill him.

"Malfoy what have you done? Everyone must be sick with worry about me. They'll be searching for me. They'll find me and then you'll be taken away to Azkaban for kidnapping me. You really are a prick."

As he heard what he said, he knew that there was no time like the present and it was time to set her straight.

"Look Hermione," he started, before she interrupted him.

"Hermione? You have no right calling me Hermione you little ferret. What happened to calling me mudblood every time you had the chance?"

Draco started to get impatient. "Look, Hermione is your name isn't it? Would you prefer if I did call you mudblood all the time?"

He paused and there was no answer.

He sighed and continued. "I didn't think so. All I want to do is tell you the truth, without any interruptions" he added harshly as he saw Hermione open her mouth to counter something he said. When he was satisfied that she wasn't going to say anything for whatever reason, he kept going more calmly than before.

"That day that you remembered, the day that you went to Diagon Alley was a long time ago. You weren't kidnapped, I assure you that you returned home safely with Potter and the Weasel, and you even got to Hogwarts, and had a, eventful year as head girl and getting top grades and the best NEWT scores that Hogwarts had seen in a long time. Who knows, but maybe they were the best Hogwarts had ever seen. The fact is that what you remember happened 4 years ago. You are no longer 17 years old, and you lead your own life, separate of Potter and the Weasel. And this life also includes me."

He waited for a reaction from her, but he guessed that it was too soon, the information too raw for her to believe any of it at the moment. He kept going.

"The war happened a year after our last year at Hogwarts. Many people died on both sides, many of your close friends. However they did not die in vain. Potter killed Voldemort, but at the cost of his own life. I'm sorry, Hermione, but you were the only one of the Golden Trio to survive."

Hermione noticed that Malfoy was acting unnaturally out of character. She didn't think he even knew the meaning of the word 'sorry' but there he was saying it in a sentence and acting perfectly comfortable with it. This couldn't be the same person that she was at school with. Yet she still didn't believe him. How could she have forgotten four years of her life? How could she have forgotten the deaths of her friends? It wasn't possible. Her memory never failed her. She didn't want to believe any of it. So she didn't. She just stayed silent. She couldn't work out, though, what he had to gain from telling her all these lies. Yet Malfoy continued.

"You became famous; you, alongside the rest of the survivors of the order of the phoenix. Wanting to help the wizarding community, you helped round up all the death eaters and put them on trial, to make the world a safer place. With your expertise, and it only took a year to do so. And you were only 19 years old. You are, without a doubt, the most brilliant witch I know."

Hermione looked highly doubtful at that comment. The Draco Malfoy that she knew did not compliment her so openly. He only knew how to insult. Maybe this was Harry, or Ron playing a joke on her. But she knew deep down that they would never go to this much effort for a simple joke. She still could not comprehend what was going on. Nothing he said sounded familiar, and she still could not remember anything. Maybe this was Voldemort under polyjuice potion, trying to get her to confess some information to him about Harry and Ron. Well over her dead body, she thought.

Draco could still not gauge her reaction to everything that he had told her. She had just been sitting there, listening, but she didn't look like she truly believed in him. There had to be a way to prove it to her. After he finished their story, he would take her to a mirror. Her body had matured over the four years; she looked different now, than what she did in seventh year. But the hardness in her eyes that had been there since the war ended was no longer there.

"We met shortly afterwards. I had been captured as a suspected death eater, yet I never had to go to trial and had been let off. You demanded to know why I had been let off, so seeing as the ministry wouldn't tell you, you payed a visit to my manor to ask me in person. Of course, I was not pleased to see you at that time. I still hated you, and you me. You were convinced that I had payed my way out of Azkaban, but I kept telling you it was only because I was innocent. We argued, starting about that, but then it turned into the ongoing pureblood/mudblood debate. It went on for ages, until you had enough and punched me in the nose, hard enough to make it bleed. I found out later that you ended up breaking it. In retaliation, I pushed you back and you landed against a table making your forehead bleed. Instead of being pissed off like I had, you reached over and grabbed my hand, and put it on your wound so it was covered in your blood. You then put my other had on my mouth so it was covered in my blood. You held out my hands and asked me

'What is so different about our blood? We both bleed the same blood. It doesn't look any different. It doesn't affect who we are. Just get over yourself and learn that blood is not all that matters.'

And then you just left, leaving me in the same position, looking at the blood on my hands."

Hermione saw through Malfoy's words that this had really affected him. As he talked about it, he hadn't just skimmed over it, but included details. He had a point though. There was nothing different about their blood. Maybe that was why he was acting so different. But if it was, that must mean that his entire story is true, and that she really had forgotten everything.

Draco continued. "No matter how hard I tried to ignore that event, your words had been burnt into my mind. Everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, all I could think about was how similar our blood looked. It contradicted everything that my father had told me, and it started to give me a different out look on life. I started to question everything I had been taught. I became a better man for it. I started a company helping families that had been split up from the war; orphaned children whose parents had died, innocent families that had become victims to Voldemort's reign of terror. I donated money to St Mungo's, and other hospitals and I started to train as a healer. I wanted to help people that my father had wronged, that the people I knew had wronged, and that I, myself, had wronged. I knew that the final step I had to take was to approach you, and to thank you. You were the only one that helped to show me what I had done wrong.

I went to see you 6 months after our previous argument. I knocked on your door, and you refused to open it and didn't want anything to do with me. I walked away. Then next day I came and knocked again. You told me to piss off. I knocked on your door everyday for a fortnight. One day, I didn't turn up. The next day, I went to your door and knocked and you finally answered it. You asked me where I was the previous day, and I said I was sick. You told me that you had grown used to my annoying presence, as you put it, and finally gave in, and asked why I had come. I asked if you wanted to get a coffee and I would explain. You said yes."

Hermione looked like she was having an inner battle with herself. She didn't want to let herself believe this story, because that would mean that Harry and Ron were dead, and somehow the villain of her Hogwart days had turned good. It would mean that she had lost four years of her life, and she would never get them back. No, she would rather believe that this was still a set up, a lie. But her resolve was wavering. It was getting weaker, as she herself was starting to believe, only just a little, in the story the man before her was telling.

Draco had paused in his story once again, to let Hermione take it all in. It was through this pause that he felt hungry again. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after noon. They had been sitting on the floor as he told his story for a couple of hours. He asked if she wanted something to eat. She said yes. That was the first time she had spoken since he started to tell his story. He loved the sound of her voice. It wouldn't be too long, he told himself. She will soon start to trust me, and then they will be happy together. He took her to the kitchen, and on the way Hermione passed a mirror. What she saw was not what she had expected. Her face had aged, her hair was longer and her body had matured. Now she realised that time had definitely passed. She continued to follow Draco to the kitchen, feeling even more confused and lost as the reality started to sink in as she watched him make some sandwiches for them to eat. She hadn't spoken another word. He took this as an opportunity to continue the story.

"As we got the coffee, I had explained how your words had affected me, and what I had done since then. You were impressed but convinced that there was a catch. I insisted that there was none. You drank your coffee and took in everything that I told you. You said you wanted to see this so called company I had created. I said 'It's a date.' You looked at me quizzically, and then set a time and place where I could pick you up. I hadn't meant it to be a date at the time, but for some reason or another it turned into that, and the day that I showed you my company, and you were impressed might I add, was treated as a first date."

He paused momentarily, and swallowed noticeably before continuing.

"It wasn't the only date either. After that, we met up to go to all sorts of places. We had dinner at prestigious restaurants around the world, and we went to operas and functions together. After some months, we started getting serious and you moved into the manor. You soon quit working at the ministry, unimpressed with their ethics and started working at my company, where you played an important part in it, and was happy working there. A year passed and only just a few weeks ago, I proposed to you, and you accepted."

Draco's tone had become gloomy as he got to this part of the story. Hermione felt that. It was almost as if he expected her not to believe that it was true. It must have been hard on him to have his fiancée to forget all about it. Without realising it, and through the progression of the day, Hermione had started to believe Malfoy and his story, her kind nature making her compassionate and feel towards the man that was opening his heart for her, she supposed again. She wanted to be closer to him, to make him feel happy. She was almost convinced with his story, but it was too soon for her to recognise all these emotions swirling within her. To her logical mind, she thought that she was just wrapped up in the story and was still emotionally unattached. However she still knew that there was more to the story. Something must have happened between the proposal and today. She just didn't know what.

"About a week after that day, some prisoners escaped Azkaban again. They were some death eaters. At this moment in time, the ministry believes that there is someone on the inside that helped them escape, because the still believe that Azkaban is inescapable. I disagree. The escaped death eaters tried to destroy everything in their sight, but they also had a target. They had escaped for a reason, and that was to destroy my company. Exactly one week ago there was an explosion in my company and the entire building collapsed. I believe that they were intending to kill me, as I was supposed to be in that day, but I had taken a detour to prepare something, and hadn't arrived in the morning when the explosion occurred. Many people died. Many were injured. Some escaped uninjured. However, you had been injured the worst. They believe you had been hit on the head by falling debris, and though they could heal your physical wounds, they weren't sure if they could do anything about the injuries you sustained to your head. They knew that it had affected your memory, but they weren't sure how badly. They had given you a dreamless sleep potion all week while they had worked on you, but decided that it would be better if you woke up in your own bed, just in case it helped you remember anything. There is a chance that your memory will come back in time, but it may not."

There was silence in the kitchen. Only the gentle breathing of the two occupants could be heard. Hermione was trying to process the story. Draco was praying that she would believe him. He couldn't handle it if he lost her. He had put so much work into getting here. She had to believe him, but he also knew that she needed time. Time to sort it out in her head and time to accept it.

Draco stood up and left, parting with an explanation to where he was going. He was going to set up a guest room for himself so that she didn't have to sleep in the same bed as him if she didn't want to. Hermione was stunned. It was all too much to process and she just wanted to go back to sleep and ironically, forget any of this had happened. So that is what she did.

Once Draco had come back down to the kitchen, he found her lying asleep at the table. He sighed and prepared to carry her back to their bedroom, so she could sleep. Then he would wait for her decision about what to do next. He wanted her to tell him now, but this was too important to rush. If she was going to submit to him as his fiancée, she needed to do it with all of her heart. Only then would he be satisfied.


Weeks passed as Hermione continued to live at the Manor. She had realised that she believed his story. She trusted him. She was slowing starting to become more comfortable with Draco, she had even progressed to calling him by his first name, which made him pleased. Anytime she wanted to ask something about the last four years, Draco always obliged with an answer, something that made Hermione grateful. They still had fights, it seemed that whatever happened, they were still destined to fight, but usually they apologised to each other and it was forgotten, until the next one happened.

One day, however, she was having some fun with Draco, running around the manor, playing tag, when she realised that she had hit a dead end. Draco was coming up behind her, and pinned her to the wall. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, and then, very slowly he leaned down and kissed her. She was hesitant at first, but soon started to kiss back, and the kiss turned passionate. As the kiss was getting more heated, Draco's hands started to work up Hermione's shirt, when she suddenly stopped, pushed him off her, and ran away. He hadn't tried anything like that since.

It was now winter, and she spent many days outside on his grounds in the snow, wearing delightful little outfits that made him almost growl in pleasure when he saw her in them. She was so beautiful, he wanted to jump her everyday he saw her, but couldn't in fear of scaring her away again. In short, living in such close proximity to her was killing him, and not affecting her at all. He figured that she was still trying to fit everything in to her mind and that she was frustrated in being unable to remember anything.

Draco was right about Hermione being frustrated, she was beyond frustration about not being able to remember anything, but she was starting to accept that she would never remember the past few years of her life, and decided to move on with her life. The logical thing to do was to continue her life with Draco, because she could feel herself falling in love with Draco again. He was the perfect gentleman to her, not rushing her or forcing her to do anything she didn't want to do, yet he still managed to make her feel special and like she was the only one for him. She wanted to tell him this, but just didn't know how too. She felt stupid for forgetting and that by moving on she would have given up on trying to remember the past, and the good time they once had. If only she knew that Draco didn't want her to worry about they're past, but instead move on and get her back to normal.

However she was still plagued by the fact that Harry and Ron were dead. Inside, her mind knew it, but her heart refused to accept it. It didn't feel real. It just felt like they had gone away on holiday and left her alone to be with Draco. She guessed that because she couldn't remember what it was like when they died, only heard about it afterwards, or had already grieved her body wouldn't let her do it again. She felt unfaithful to them, not truly feeling sad they were dead, after all they were best friends for so many years, but she also had so much to deal with, she couldn't force herself to grief just yet. She realised that she didn't know much about the outcomes of the war, but also felt that Draco was reluctant to talk about it.


That night at dinner, Hermione decided to pluck up her courage and make the first move. She nervously mentioned that if he wanted to sleep back in their bed, he was welcome to. That didn't mean that she wanted to have sex yet, but Draco saw it as the first step to their happily ever after. He also found that the guest bed was horribly uncomfortable and he wanted his own bed back.

That night Draco got into their bed, and gently wrapped his arms around Hermione, spooning her. It was then that she noticed his dark mark on his forearm. How could she have not noticed it before. It stood out, and as bad as it was, she was drawn to it and couldn't take her eyes of it. She used on of her fingers to trace the tattoo, and Draco tensed. She knew that he was a death eater, but had never seen the mark before in real life. She bent down to kiss it and Draco once again relaxed and tightened his arms around her. She felt oddly comfortable in this position and fell asleep almost immediately. Draco however, stayed awake a bit longer. He loved how she felt in his arms, and after waiting for so long to feel this, he could feel himself getting hard. Thankful that Hermione was asleep and couldn't feel him, he tried to think of as many 'unsexy' things as he could, but found Hermione's soft skin too alluring. He didn't want to move away from her, so instead, fell asleep to dreams of Hermione, hoping his problem would go away in the morning.


A few mornings later he woke up to small hands working away down his body. He was in the same state that he had been in every morning since he had shared his bed: painfully hard. Obviously Hermione was feeling frisky this morning, and for whatever reason she had decided to explore his body, he pretended to be asleep, so she wouldn't stop.

When Hermione had woken up, she had been in a position that Draco's hands had been on her breasts, and her little silk nightdress that she had been wearing had ridden up, and she could feel Draco pressing into her. Surprisingly, instead of being outraged at being felt up in her sleep, she felt turned on. Instead of analysing the situation, as she had been doing ever since she woke up in this bed alone a confused a few weeks ago, she let her instincts take over and turned over to face Draco, running her hands down his body. She felt him stir, yet remain partially asleep, and wondered how far she could go before he woke up and either stopped her or started participating.

She ran her fingers over the tent in his boxers, as she went to kiss his bare chest, her tongue flicking over his nipples. Her logical self could find no reason to why she was doing this, but she felt that her body was sexually frustrated. Maybe before she lost her memory, she had sex so often, her body was having withdrawal symptoms, which would also explain the lust she had been feeling for Draco over the past week, as they sat and talked, or as she saw him walk out of the shower wearing only a towel.

She felt Draco twitch as she lifted up the elastic of his boxers and attempted to pull them down, however she only managed to get them down to his knees before she gave up. However that did leave his cock lying out, hard and waiting for her to touch it. She obliged, loving how it felt in her hand. She had been a virgin in her seventh year, so she couldn't remember doing any sexual act, except kissing a guy, but she had read so many books on the topic she had a basic idea what to do. She started to stroke her hand up and down his cock, liking the feeling, but Draco still hadn't woken up yet, so she lowered her mouth onto it, and after running her tongue over it, she placed her lips on his cock and started to suck on it.

This was too much for Draco, who, after attempting to ignore her explorations let out a moan, and let Hermione know he was awake. It felt so good and so he thrusted upwards, further into her mouth. Hermione was enjoying the feeling of pleasuring Draco, as she realised that she did love him and couldn't love anybody else. As she came to that conclusion Draco came into her mouth, and not knowing what to do, swallowed it all.

Realising that this was not a dream, and that Hermione had just sucked him off, he felt that he should return the favour and started pleasuring her in as many ways as he knew how. He could feel himself getting hard again. The couple spent the morning in bed, exploring each other and ending the morning off with having sex for the first time in Hermione's eyes, both climaxing at the same time.


They walked down to the kitchen to have lunch, Draco wearing his boxers and Hermione wearing one of his shirts. Draco had no idea what had brought this morning on, but he was glad it had happened. They couldn't get enough of each other, spending the next few days together with each other, until one night, before they went to sleep, Hermione let it slip out that she loved him.

Draco went silent and froze, and for a moment Hermione feared that she had said the wrong thing. He suddenly stood up and went to his sock draw, where he pulled something out. He turned to Hermione, and spoke seriously to her.

"When you were at the hospital, they told me that I should take this off, not to scare you if you couldn't remember who I was. But now, exactly a month later, and you are feeling this way I want to ask you again. Hermione Granger, I love you with all my heart, and I want you to be my wife. So if you love me, with all your heart, will you do me the honour of marrying me?"

Hermione froze only for a millisecond, not expecting that he was going to ask her again. But after feeling her heart grow and knowing that every time she was close to Draco Malfoy her stomach filled with butterflies, she knew that she had to say yes because she was one hundred percent and totally in love with him. So she said yes. And he picked her up in his arms and spun her around to room, kissing her passionately. Once he set her down, she told him that she was going to have a shower. Walking in the direction of the bathroom, she casually yelled back to him "Care to join me?"

Without missing a beat he followed her into the shower.


Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy got married a month later, in a little ceremony. Hermione was in love and trusted her husband with all her heart.

If only she knew that Draco had lied to her.

If only she knew that her best friends had not been killed in the final war, and that she had helped them survive, saving their lives herself.

If only she knew that many miles away, in the centre of London, sat Harry Potter, Ginny Potter and Ron Weasley sitting in their lounge room, mourning the loss of Ron's fiancée Hermione Granger. She had been officially declared missing a month ago, and now they had got news that she had been found dead, and positively identified.

If only she knew that Draco had bribed the ministry to set up her death.

If only she knew that she had loved Ron with all her heart, and she was meant to marry him the same day that she married Draco.

If only she knew that Draco had been obsessed with her, ever since she had turned him down on their 'first date' looking at his new company. Yes, she had been impressed by Draco's change and the fact that he had done so much good for the wizarding community, but as she kissed him at the end of the day, she knew that she could never love Draco the same as she loved Ron. He couldn't get enough of her, and no longer had any other friends that he needed Hermione.

If only she knew that Draco was jealous of Ron, and as their wedding date approached, and Draco's company was destroyed, a plan came to his mind, which he executed without delay.

If only she knew that Draco had performed an irreversible memory charm on her, to forget all about Ron.

If only she knew that he had lied and made up a plausible story for her to believe, relying on her compassion and nature to make her accept it.

If only she knew that Harry and Ron were going to investigate her death and in a couple of years find out that her death was a fake.

If only Hermione knew that by that time, it would be too late.

If only Hermione knew that if she was going to submit to Draco as his fiancée, she needed to do it with all of her heart. Only then would he be satisfied.

If only Hermione knew that if Draco wanted something, he got it. He always got it. And Draco wanted all of her. Her body, her mind and her heart.

But she didn't know that. And never would. Or would she?


A/N: I hope you liked this story, it was just a random story that popped up into my head a while ago, and I found it and thought that I would post it up, seeing as I haven't had the time to update my other story. Please review.