A/N: Trigger warning for an anxiety attack in the second part of the chapter.

Draco

A horrifically unpleasant surprise awaited Draco on Saturday afternoon. He had prepared himself to see Granger again. He had prepared himself for the possibility that she hadn't been able to access the Black library. He had even prepared himself to let any and every snide comment made by Wendell float right on by.

He was not prepared to face a Harpy.

"Ferret," the she-Weasley greeted Draco when he walked into the Wilkinses' flat.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Draco demanded, whipping out his wand.

"Ginny's made a conditional vow," Granger sniffed as she sorted through a pile of books on the dining table.

The Weasley hopped onto the breakfast bar and sat with her legs swinging. She looked much too comfortable for someone being held at wandpoint by a Malfoy. "If you so much as look at Hermione or her parents funny, I get to tell Harry and Ron that you threatened to kill them if she turned you in."

Draco spun back to Granger, offended and outraged. "You know I wouldn't do that!"

Granger shrugged, but her attempt at nonchalance failed spectacularly. She didn't have near as much confidence as her counterpart. "Then you don't have anything to worry about," she said, but the waver in her voice betrayed some sort of nervousness. By contrast, her hands were steady as she gestured to the books on the table. "Legilimency and potions."

"Granger, get your friend out of here."

"No," Weasley said before Granger could respond. "I'm her back up."

Draco involuntarily snorted, glancing at the moose wallpaper in the kitchen. "Granger can take care of herself."

Both women paused and Draco suddenly felt the weight of two stares. Granger's mouth was open and eyes wide in unguarded surprise, while Weasley frowned like she suspected a trick. "What?" he snapped, starting to drop his wand.

Weasley's eyes drifted down at the movement. She jumped down from the bar, fluidly brandishing her own wand at Draco. His arm flew back up and he grimaced when he saw Granger instinctively raise one hand, a faint thread of magic weaving through her fingers.

"Where did you get that wand?" Weasley growled.

Too late, Draco realized the wand he'd been pointing at her face was the very same wand he had stolen from her dead brother at the Battle of Hogwarts. "I can explain-"

"That wand is Fred's." Weasley stepped closer toward Draco and he was strongly reminded of his altercation with Granger just the week prior. He missed the days when the biggest threat to his well being was Theo's sense of humour.

"Well, he doesn't need it anymore, does he?" Draco sneered without thinking. He ducked as Weasley sent a hex, only to lose his grip on the wand. It flew in an arc alongside Weasley's wand until they both landed in Granger's palm.

"I need Malfoy in one piece until he can fix my parents," Granger said diplomatically to her fuming friend.

"You didn't have that attitude last weekend," Draco grumbled.

Granger turned cool eyes on him. "I didn't believe you then. I do now." She handed him a leather book that hadn't been cared for in at least two centuries. "You should probably use this time to explain why you have Fred's wand before I let Ginny have her wand back."

Draco ignored Granger's suggestion and opened the book. "It's blank."

He heard her huff impatiently. "Bottom right corner," she answered.

Draco squinted at the bottom of a random page and saw the faint shadow of a rune. He suspected he would have to trace a rune on each page to read the book, which also meant the book probably didn't have a table of contents. He'd have to read every bloody page.

He also wasn't fond of the idea of drawing runes without translating them first, and these were so far unfamiliar. Without looking at Granger, he held out an open palm. When she didn't return his wand, he glared at the bemused witch. "Do you want my help or not?"

"My mother gave me the impression you had manners."

Draco growled. "Don't bring your mother into this, Granger. Give me my wand."

The dining table shook and Draco looked over to see Weasley looking murderous. Apparently Granger had employed a silencing spell on the Harpy at some point. If he weren't adamantly opposed to appreciating anything Granger did, he would admire her pragmatism. Few people would choose a useful enemy over an earnest friend.

He smirked at the voiceless Weasley and reworded his demand. "Give me the elder Weasley's wand," he said without breaking eye contact.

A close-range Stinging Hex hit him in the side and he yelped. Granger held out Fred Weasley's wand. "Say please."

"You - that hurt!"

"You're being cruel to Ginny. She hasn't done anything to you."

"Other than threatening the life I've built here?" he snarled. "You just put my life in her hands, which was not our agreement. You're lucky I'm even still willing to help you, which would be easier if I had my wand." He tried to grab the wand from Granger but she didn't relent.

"Say please, Malfoy."

"Give me-"

Granger sighed and tucked the wand up the right sleeve of her oversized jumper. "What book do you need?" she asked, standing from the table. "Is it here or at-" she caught herself just shy of saying 'Zabini's', if her look at Weasley was anything to go by, "-home?"

"If you give me my wand, I can get the book myself, Granger."

"I'm not giving you your wand back. Where's the book?"

Draco snarled something that earned him another Stinging Hex when Wendell came upstairs. The Muggle laughed outright as Draco swore so violently that even Weasley looked amused.

"How's the research going?" Wendell asked, yet again sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. Really, Granger's parents explained so much about her.

The vinewood wand remained pointed at Draco; specifically, at his swelling torso. "Malfoy was telling me where to find the book of runes he needs to translate one of the books from Cepheus's library," Granger said innocently.

Draco's watering eyes flew wide open. "Cepheus-?"

"Probably in those books he keeps in your room," Wendell said, too helpfully.

"He keeps books in my - but books about - here?" Granger looked helplessly between Draco and her father. "I haven't seen any magical books in my room."

"Oh, but Granger," Draco drawled, "aren't all books magical?"

Granger, Wendell, and Weasley exchanged a look before father and daughter headed down the hall.

"You bastard," Weasley snarled, having her voice back to Draco's extreme dismay. At least she didn't have a wand and wasn't bookish enough to learn wandless magic.

"Look, Weasley, I didn't realize whose wand it was at first," Draco said, flipping through a book of rather suspicious-looking potions. Eye contact with an angry Weasley was to avoided at all costs.

"Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from the last word.

"Yes," he answered with the conviction of an accomplished liar. "If I'd known who it belonged to, I probably would have left it."

"You're lying."

He glared at her, peeved that she presumed - correctly - that he valued his life over his prejudices. "It doesn't matter. The wand was lying in the rubble and I had no way to protect myself. I took it." He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Shot off red and gold sparks when your brother won those Orders of Merlin."

Weasley's eyes remained hard, but she seemed calmer. He wondered if that made it more or less likely that she would hex him when his back was turned.

Who was he kidding? She was a Gryffindor. They only hexed people when they could see the fear in their eyes.

"You're more at risk of Granger hurting me, you know," he said after a minute, uncomfortable with her silent stare. "She nearly killed me last Saturday."

"I'm sure you deserved it."

"I told her I wanted to help with the Memory Charm."

Weasley hummed. "That's not the conversation I heard. I did hear that she dropped you down the stairs. Bring back any fond memories, ferret?"

Draco snarled. "Don't -"

"I know, I know," Weasley said with an exasperated wave. "Two broken ribs and a hairline fracture, though I still think your bruised ego was probably the worst of it. Already heard this lecture. Daphne," she explained at his frown. "Gave us a proper tongue-lashing a few months back. Hermione looked like she'd kicked a puppy. Starting quoting some Muggle poet about sins and fathers."

Before Draco could process Weasley's words, the door of Granger's room slammed open. "You LIAR!" Granger roared, storming back down the hall. Weasley leaned back against the bar, a smug grin on her face as Granger threw a folded parchment at him. "It was always you! The extra homework and essays Zabini gave me - they were yours!"

Draco unfolded the parchment to see one of his perfect Ancient Runes assignments with Granger's neat hand in the margins. "I take it you found the book."

She shoved the text at him, and Draco returned to the blank book on the table. "May I have my wand now?"

He heard a mutter of, "Unbelievable," before the wand was slammed down on the table. Granger stormed off, followed by her dutiful father, presumably to let off some of her self-righteous anger, again leaving Draco alone with Weasley.

"Zabini, hmm?" Weasley asked with a raised eyebrow. Draco groaned. It wasn't any wonder Granger and Theo got on so well; they both had the subtlety of an erumpent in heat. "Makes sense. I always thought it was strange that he'd write two versions of his assignments. No one that pretty has to try that hard."

"Why is Granger ranting about homework to the cookware?" Theo asked from the door. He stopped at the sight of the redhead in the dining room. "Weasley. You're awfully … present. Take a wrong turn heading to the Quidditch pitch?" The quip hid genuine nervousness, which Weasley clearly sensed. There was something off-putting about her preternatural ability to sense the truth.

"How d'you know I'm playing Quidditch?"

Theo shrugged and moved gingerly into the kitchen, well-prepared to duck behind the counter if necessary. "Daily Prophet." He gave the door an apprehensive look. "Should we be expecting any additional guests?"

Wickedness gleamed in Weasley's eyes. "Well, I am dating an Auror with access to international Portkeys. I could ask if he's free tonight. He'd love to see Hermione's parents again."

Theo paled and turned to Draco. "Blaise is going to kill you."

Weasley started laughing. "I'm not turning you in. Hermione literally made me take a vow."

"A conditional vow," Draco said.

Weasley smirked. "Those conditions are Malfoy-specific."

Theo looked puzzled but chose not to question his good fortune. "Who's making dinner?" he asked instead.

"I think it's Weasley's turn," Draco answered.

"Watch it, ferret. I might be tempted to poison you."

Theo relaxed against the counter, clearly sensing an ally in their unwelcome guest. "Fresh out of hemlock, I'm afraid, but I think Draco's got a potion that's gone rancid back at the house. I could fetch it."

Draco groaned. "Don't encourage-"

"How rancid?" Weasley asked.

"Imagine your brothers' pants had been doused in thestral piss, lit on fire, and the ashes packed into your pillow."

Weasley's nose wrinkled. "That's … vivid."

"That's how I feel looking at this potion," Theo said with a dramatic grimace. Draco fought the urge to hit his head on the table.

"It's a pain-" he started again, but neither party were much interested in listening to him, instead bonding over their horrible personalities. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that a Theo/Weasley friendship didn't bode well for him.

"What are you looking at?" Granger demanded for the third time Sunday evening. Theo was keeping Weasley and the Wilkinses entertained while Draco and Granger poured over the books in the dining room. Draco would have greatly preferred to read in the comfort of Zabini's library, but Granger didn't trust him with the books and he didn't trust her with the location of his home.

Draco did not, however, mind that he had found a new way to get under Granger's skin. The runes in the book from the Black library - Cepheus Black's library, apparently, which was a new headache altogether - were all specific to mind magicks, which made sense enough. They bonded Legilimency to the physical world, which meant that the reader had to trace the runes on himself to see the words on each page. The book was broken into nonsensical sections, so every sixth page for the first two hundred pages might be visible with the rune for Knowing the Inner Mind, but each page in between might need Draco to draw First Thought Upon Daybreak or Sleeping Among Enemies or, in a single odd instance, the basic rune for Book.

The only thing that made the resulting headache worth his trouble was the fact Granger couldn't see the pages. To her, it appeared Draco was reading a blank book and it was driving her mad. She stated twice that he was only pretending to help, which he ignored once and condemned with a glare the second time.

"Are you even-"

"Granger, if you don't let me read in peace, I'm going to set the bloody book on fire." He winced as he looked at his arm and saw his current rune - also invisible to Granger - disappear. Apparently the book was capable of taking offense. Wonderful.

"But you aren't reading anything!"

"Now I'm not," he snapped, drawing his wand again. He ignored Granger's flinch and dragged the tip along his arm, re-tracing Unhindered Thoughts. "Which is very much your own fault." The words bled out across the page again and he pointedly turned his nose back to the book.

"There's nothing-"

"What seems to be the problem?" Monica asked from the sofa. The rest of the conversation had ceased; their bickering had gained an audience.

Draco waited with half-hidden amusement to see what sort of temper Granger threw. Either she would fold her arms and pretend he didn't exist anymore or she would loudly paint him a villain.

Quite the diabolical villain to be pretending to read, he mused as he watched her wrestle with her instincts.

"Nothing," Granger finally said, and stormed out of the room. Weasley gave Draco a dirty look and ran after her friend.

Monica sighed and raised her eyebrows at Draco. "Care to explain?"

"She's finally found something she doesn't understand," Draco said with a shrug. He tapped the page he could see. "But I think I've found something."

Monica's eyes widened. "Already?"

"What are the risks?" Wendell asked, placing a hand over his wife's. Draco was sharply reminded of his parents and pushed the memory of them behind a wall in his mind that had grown into something of a maze in the last year.

"Safer than what we've done so far," Draco answered. "The idea is that instead of trying to deconstruct the barrier around your memories, I move them out from behind it."

"How long will that take?" Monica asked while her husband demanded, "And how will that help her headaches? If the charm is still technically in place-"

Draco cut off Wendell. "I believe the headaches are caused by the memories just beyond the edge of the charm. If I can move those first, it should lessen the headaches." That was just a theory, of course, since he hadn't yet found anything useful on failing Memory Charms in his many-times great-grandfather's library.

"When do you want to try?" Monica looked more wary than hopeful, but there was desperation hidden in her eyes.

"Whenever you're ready," Draco said with far more confidence than he actually had. The process was be tricky, and he would die in a hail of fireballs if he caused Granger's mother any more pain, but theoretical preparation only helped so much. He needed to get into Monica's mind to understand how the spell worked.

"Now," Monica said, and stood from the sofa.

Draco, Theo, and Wendell followed her to the bedroom she shared with her husband. Theo stood guard outside the door, watching for Granger and Weasley to return. Wendell hovered uncomfortably behind Draco while Monica settled on the edge of the bed and Draco on his knees in front of her, the same way they sat the first time he entered her mind.

"Legilimens."

Immediately, he felt a sense of dread as he looked at the white fog around Monica's memories. Where it had been a thinning wall just two months ago, it was reduced to latticework in some spots with memories not only dancing near the edge, but drifting through and pulling back. A weaker woman would have gone insane by this point, Draco was sure.

He cringed as he examined the charm. The first step wouldn't be moving a memory or two from behind the barrier, not with as weak as it was becoming. He spun his wand and, as quietly as he could manage, whispered, "Obliviate."

Pale blue fog began to fill the holes in Granger's Memory Charm. As the charm fortified itself, the trapped memories faded from view until the fog solidified into a patchwork Occlumency-type wall. The charm wouldn't hold forever, he knew that much, but it didn't have to.

He traced the wall, looking for any weak points left by his spell. After several minutes, he was satisfied with the strength of the reinforced charm and finally started the moving process.

The incantation was less exhausting than the focus it took to perform it. Draco painstakingly carved a door into the Memory Charm, down to the detail of creating a knob to open and close it. His breath came in pants by the time he finished the door and he felt his strength waning.

Distantly, he felt Wendell's presence drift back. A hand grasped his right shoulder, and it took all of his training to hold steady in Monica's mind. The hand moved down to cover his wand hand while a second hand rested flat on his back, perfectly behind his heart.

A strength that didn't belong to Draco washed over him. With his first full breath in minutes, Draco pushed through the door and identified the nearest memory.

The ropes he spun to capture the two-storey blue-trimmed house were the familiar blue of his own magic and the white of Granger's. When the memory was adequately secured, he eased it forward, forward, forward until it compressed and squeezed through the door. The house grew to life-size the moment it was fully outside the Memory Charm.

It worked.

Careful not to be overjoyed too quickly, he secured the door in the wall and released the memory from the two-tone ropes. The house moved on its own as Monica's mind filed her London home where it belonged in her thoughts.

With a sigh of relief, Draco pulled out of Monica's mind and sagged against Granger, whose hand was still on his back. The room was entirely silent while he caught his breath.

"Home?" Monica asked him.

Draco knelt forward, away from Granger. "Tell me about it." He felt Granger move back and she settled into his peripheral, her shoulders stiff with anxiety.

Monica frowned and moved her eyes to Wendell. "It's - it was two storeys. Grey stone, blue eaves. I - I walked in every night after work and hung my coat next to the door." She paused as if waiting for the next scene to appear. "We had a cat. Orange. I can't remember his name. He wasn't home often because he belonged to my-." Monica stopped and closed her eyes. "He belonged to my -" Her nose and cheeks grew pink as she looked at Draco. "Why can't I remember who he belonged to?"

Draco's heart stopped as he heard Granger's gasp. "What did you do?" she whimpered next to his ear.

"Weasley," Draco called, hoping the woman was smart enough to calm Granger down before she lost control. He focused on Monica, trying to ignore Granger's panicked breathing. One crisis at a time.

He set his wand on the bed next to Monica and grasped her hands. "The cat is Hermione's. She took him to Hogwarts during the school year." When she still looked confused, Draco swallowed his own panic. "Monica, do you remember Hermione?"

She nodded, but there was something like a lie in her hesitation. "She's - she's Hermione," Monica said, and Draco followed her gaze to where Granger now stood wrapped in Weasley's arms. Wendell looked torn between which of his women to help while Theo stood awkwardly in a corner.

"That's right," Draco said, giving Granger the smallest of nods before he turned back to her mother. "That's Hermione. Do you remember how Hermione is related to you?" He watched as Monica pulled one hand from his and curved it over her face to hide her shame. Draco tightened his grip on the hand he still held. "Monica. Monica, it's okay. Look at me. Look at me," he whispered. He pulled her hand away just enough that he could make eye contact with her. "Can you tell me who I am?"

"Draco."

A sad smile tipped his lips. "Good. Can you tell me who everyone else is?"

Monica dropped her hand and looked around the crowded room. "Wendell is my husband. Theo is your brother. Ginny is Hermione's friend."

Draco's panic subsided as a new wave of relief hit. If she could place everyone except Granger, it meant that shoring up the original Memory Charm did what it was supposed to, albeit a little too well. "I think it's time to sleep now." He pulled a phial from the nightstand next to the bed and spun it until the deep purple liquid inside swirled into a pale lavender. "Do you remember what this is?"

Monica actually gave a small laugh and held her hand out. "Dreamless Sleep for Muggles."

A broad smile broke across Draco's face as he uncorked the phial and handed it over. "Brilliant."

"Thank you, Draco."

"Goodnight, Monica," he said sternly and watched as she drank the potion.

As soon as Monica was asleep, Draco stood from the floor, wincing at the soreness in his knees. He gestured for Wendell to follow him as he went into the bathroom to rinse the phial.

"Is she-"

"I don't know," Draco said, grimacing at the bitter taste of admitting uncertainty to the Muggle. "The original charm was too unstable to work with, so I had to fix that first. I was able to move one memory back to where it belongs, but I think she might not remember Granger is her daughter until I can remove the charm."

"What about her headaches?" Wendell asked, his voice slightly strangled.

"They should be manageable with the Memory Charm stabilised. I'll keep working on a pain potion, though, because I can't imagine we've seen the last of them. For either of you." Draco attached the rinsed phial to the counter with a Sticking Charm and conjured a tiny tornado to air-dry it. By the time the phial was dry, he was alone.

Granger sat curled in an armchair, looking more wilted than she had after dropping Draco down the stairs. Weasley hovered near her friend, looking surprisingly deflated as well. Theo was in the dining room, flipping mindlessly through the stack of Black books.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Weasley asked, breaking the heavy silence first. Draco opened his mouth, only to realise he had no idea what to say. After a moment, he grimaced and nodded. Weasley sighed and went back to watching the nearly catatonic Granger. "I don't think we - I - realised how…." She trailed off, just as lost as everyone else.

Another minute of silence dragged on too long and Draco cleared his throat. "I'd like to take some of the books home tonight." When Granger didn't respond, Draco took her silence as permission. He gathered a few books and pointed to two for Theo to take as well. They were nearly out the door before a strong voice rose from the armchair.

"You really care about her."

Draco fought the instinct to be snappish and almost won. "What's it to you?"

Granger peeked over the back of the chair, her red-rimmed dark eyes, her mother's eyes, meeting his. "Just … maybe you have a heart after all."

With that unsettling statement hanging in the air, Draco looked away from the woman and let Theo lead him from the building.

Hours later, Draco woke to the sound of pounding on his bedroom door. Panic raced through his veins and he threw a dressing robe over his silk pyjamas as he raced to the door.

"Something's wrong with Monica," Theo said breathlessly, his hand still hovering in the air as if he were going to knock again.

"How-"

"Just go, Draco."

The journey took maybe sixty seconds or maybe sixty years, but the dread in Draco's muscles had grown exponentially heavier by the time he ran into the Wilkinses' flat. "Where is she?" he asked Wendell, who was hovering by the door.

"Bedroom."

As they passed through the hall, Draco saw Weasley standing guard outside of Granger's bedroom. She held a finger to her lips and jutted her chin at Granger's door. She must have still been sleeping, then.

In the light of her bedroom lamp, Monica sat curled against the headboard, gasping and choking between sobs. Draco snapped his fingers at Weasley, beckoning her into the room. "Calming Draught, bathroom cabinet, third shelf." When Weasley disappeared, Draco looked at Wendell. "What happened?"

The Muggle rocked from foot to foot, his eyes firmly on the carpet. "She woke up and I asked her how she felt and she started crying."

Weasley entered the room with the Calming Draught and frowned at Wendell. "Theo and I heard you two talking before this all started."

Draco raised an eyebrow. So that's how Theo knew something was wrong. He put that knowledge aside to investigate later and administered the draught to Monica. "What exactly did you say?" No one answered in the minutes it took for Monica to stop crying. When she no longer shuddered through each breath, Draco asked again. "What exactly did Wendell say?"

"Hermione," both Wilkinses answered, one in defeat and the other in despair.

Draco counted to ten and set his wand on the floor. One day his patience would run out and he'd hex Wendell. "What about Hermione?" He kept his back turned to Wendell, directing the question explicitly to Monica.

Monica's fingers twisted in the duvet but she seemed otherwise stable. "I know her." She bit the inside of her lip as her hands tightened on the blanket. "But I'm supposed to know her." The words seemed to be fighting against Monica as she spoke. "I think I'm supposed to know her but I can't - but I don't. She's supposed to be someone but she's not. I feel - I can't figure out if she's someone I love or if she's someone I'm supposed to love. It's like she's real and imaginary and there's what I know about her but there's more I'm supposed to know and more that I think I did know and something I know intellectually that I can't truly grasp-" Monica cut off in the middle of her sentence, her eyes bright and red-rimmed. "Draco, what's happening?"

"You're okay," he said thickly. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, he kept to himself. "I'll figure it out. I'll-" He stood up. "Wendell, distract her with something while I figure this out." He swept from the room, his dressing robe billowing in his wake. Weasley followed him into living room, where Theo was waiting on the sofa with a full tea service prepared on the coffee table.

"Is she okay?"

Draco glared at his best friend. "Do you really think she would have been in that condition if she were okay?" he snapped.

"So that'll be three lumps then?" Theo asked, and dropped three sugars into a steaming cup before passing it over. When Draco made to refuse, Theo shook his head. "Drink it on your own or I'll Imperius you."

The teacup froze halfway to Draco's mouth and he stared in horror at the other two. "That would work."

Theo paused mid-pour. "While I want to make a joke about tea solving everything, I am terrified to know what you could possibly be thinking right now."

"I can't do it," Draco said, feeling his conscience splitting into two. The last time he'd felt this type of panic rising, he'd collapsed. Last time, Monica had been the one to save him from himself, and she couldn't this time. "I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"Can't do what?" Weasley asked, her voice quieter than expected.

The teacup wasn't in his hand anymore. He wasn't entirely sure where the teacup was, or where anything was if he were being honest.

"Should I get another Calming Draught?" Weasley's disembodied voice asked, though Draco supposed she was asking Theo since she was too far away to be asking him. Draco almost told her not to get one - they were Muggle-strength and wouldn't help. An echo of pain in his arm stopped him and he looked down, distantly surprised to see his nails digging into his Dark Mark.

Bitter amusement rose in his chest as he remembered what the Mark had looked like surrounded by blood, and he scoffed without conviction as if to say, Oh, this again.

"Draco?" Theo's voice this time, still disembodied but somewhat closer. Or maybe Draco was a bit closer. That could certainly be it. Perhaps Draco was the one travelling, drifting. That seemed likely since the teacup was gone, too.

"I'm here," he said, moving one foot along the floor to make sure he was, in fact, there or whereabouts. He was at least somewhere, wherever that may be in relation to Theo and Weasley. He watched as two hands appeared and pried his nails away from his Mark. "No!" he yelped, and pulled his arms closer to himself. "I can't - not again, I can't."

"Can't what, Draco?" Weasley asked.

Weasley? Since when did Weasley call him Draco? Did he even know her first name? She wasn't quite as interchangeable as the male Weasleys, so he had to know it somewhere.

"Ginevra," he said, vacantly proud of the fact he could recall what 'Ginny' was short for when he wasn't even sure she and Theo currently had physical forms.

"I'm going to let you have that for now only because you're paler than Fred," Weasley's - Ginevra's - voice stated. "What can't you do, Draco?"

"Imperius," he whispered. In the ensuing silence, he felt himself settle back into the world. When he was finally able to see Theo and Ginevra's stunned faces, he nodded. "Her mind doesn't know what to make of Granger," he explained. "She knows how she's supposed to feel but either doesn't feel it or does and can't make sense of why because she doesn't have the associated memories."

"So she's going mad," Theo said.

"And the Memory Charm itself is too complicated. To even make it safe to work with, I had to shore up the original charm, so now my magic is mixed into it, not just Granger's."

"And somehow an Unforgivable Curse can help with that?" Ginevra asked.

"As long as she doesn't fight it, I can convince her of whatever she needs to believe about Granger until the Memory Charm can be removed." Bile built in Draco's throat as he thought of putting yet another middle-aged woman under the curse, and holding her there indefinitely. "I don't want to do it."

A teacup clinked against a saucer and Draco remembered that his was missing. He discovered it on the nearest edge of the coffee table, sans saucer or coaster, probably leaving a water stain. He reheated it just as Ginevra spoke. "Are there any other options?" The resounding silence gave them all the answer Draco dreaded.

Wendell and Monica were still awake by the time the tea was finished. Theo beckoned for Wendell to join him and Ginevra in the hall while Draco knelt once again next to Monica.

With his wand spinning nervously in one hand, Draco spoke rapidly, earnestly, without giving Monica any chance to contradict him. "Hermione Wilkins is your niece. She's come to help us with the bakery for the summer, and she's helping me with your memory. You're fond of your niece, but you rarely see her." Before Monica could protest, he ran through the story again, and then a third time before lifting his wand to her temple.

"Imperio."

A/N: Hello! Thank you again for the lovely reviews. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. I'm mentally exhausted as I post this, so if you see any formatting issues, please let me know. All my best, akorah