Obliviate

Chapter Nine | Ministry of Magical Affairs

Maybe if she'd done something different during the war she'd be on the winning side.

She cringed in her seat, counting to ten and back down to one with her fingertips.

But for Hermione, she was on the winning side.

Just not the one she truly wished would've won the war. Hermione was deep in thought thinking of her life back in school, back to when everything was simple. After the Triwizard Tournament - Cedric's death, nothing was simple anymore. Hermione knew that.

The escape she felt when daydreaming about living a different life was her only sense of normality - the only thing that kept her sane. So she wouldn't slip away and lose herself to the dark magic.

Maybe that's what protected her for so long. But if she couldn't remember them anymore, then was she truly going insane?

She wasn't sure anymore.

Draco cleared his throat opposite Hermione and it brought her attention back to him and the Dark Lord, who seemed to be staring at each other rather intensely. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, my boy. I instructed the healer to complete a full assessment of the Mudblood this morning - as you are aware," he said, intertwining his fingers together and taking a breath, "and it appears she has damaged fragments within her brain. The damaged ones, I wish to seek. Whilst you are in Paris Draco, I want you to exploit them. I wish to know the lost memories."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the three of them. It was so quiet, Hermione thought she could've heard the blood rushing to her ears.

Hermione couldn't understand the desperation they all fed on to see her memories. The Order lost - what more could he want?

She screwed her face up slightly, and dropped her gaze to the tabletop, examining the wood carefully.

"Of course my Lord. I will not fail you," Draco began, looking over at Hermione.

She could feel his eyes burning into the top of her head.

"Good. I shouldn't expect anything less than success from you my boy. The Ministry of Magical Affairs will be your first target. You must find out what is happening within Paris and put a stop to it immediately," Voldemort said, with a mere sense of aggression in his tone.

"Whatever it takes," Draco replied back to him. Hermione brought her brown eyes up to look at Draco - who was already looking back at her, the icy blue in his eyes gently sparkling against the faint light.

Draco Malfoy was dark, but not Voldemort dark - mystery and aggression, but not evil. Hermione couldn't read Malfoy the way she read others. It made her want to know more.

He was the perfect unread book in the library. Just like the restricted section within Hogwarts' bookshelves, she thought to herself.

If she could get the upper hand whist in Paris, she could escape and be free. Free from Lord Voldemort's hell - free from herself.

She could begin to fill the shell that was left behind of Hermione Granger and find a new life for herself - kids, a husband. A house or a puppy perhaps.

Hermione's mind clouded at the thought. The calm before the storm. The thunder crashed in the distance of her mind.

"Brilliant... and you, Miss Granger," the Dark Lord turned to Hermione, eying her up and down, as if inspecting her, "you will help Malfoy investigate the matter. As you are indeed my most trusted... companion, if you'd call it that, you will be under his care."

"Yes, my Lord. Whilst in Paris, I am under the impression we will be looking into the uprising which happened a few days ago?" Hermione questioned gently, straightening her back in her seat.