The Cinematic Orchestra, Patrick Watson – To Build A Home
"I built a home for you, for me
Until it disappeared from me, from you."
"I want you to help me get my memories back."
Hermione nodded as if she'd been waiting for this. "Okay."
"Wait," Harry said. "You're not going to tell me that it's impossible, that it has to be the person who took them, something like that?"
"No, I should be able to do it, and I do have some experience with bringing back memories." Harry thought back to last year, when Hermione had taken her parents' memories and sent them to Australia to protect them. She had returned their memories when it was safe, and that was why Harry knew that if anyone could help him, it was her. "It's a complex process, is all."
"Whatever it takes."
"Okay, is there somewhere private that you want to go to start? Maybe somewhere that would trigger memories?"
Harry was about to say the Astronomy Tower, but he reconsidered. Instead, he led Hermione out of the common room to a corridor and a specific stretch of wall. He paced three times in front of it and the ornate door to the Room of Requirement appeared.
"It still works?" Hermione was gazing at the doors in wonder.
"I guess so."
They pushed the doors open and walked into the same room that they had once trained in, when they were a part of Dumbledore's Army in fifth year. Except in the middle sat two comfy looking armchairs and a coffee table.
"It's strange being back here," Hermione said as they each took a seat. "Alright. Oh, if I had just brought –" A small pile of books appeared on the table, and Hermione grinned. "Oh, I missed this."
She picked up the first one and leafed through it, until she found the page she was looking for. Harry waited patiently until she put the book back down and held out her hand, looking confident. Harry took it and Hermione took out her wand.
"This isn't going to hurt or anything is it?"
"No, not at all. Unless the memories themselves are painful, but I doubt that."
"Right. Totally reassuring."
"Hush, you."
Hermione pointed her wand at him, and ever so slowly twisted her wrist downwards. She closed her eyes and Harry followed suit, focussing on the feeling of her magic flowing from her hand into his. He tried to empty his mind, willing the memories to come back, even though he didn't know if that would help.
Gradually, he started to feel something. It was more emotions than images, but they were coming through stronger and stronger. Joy, sadness, a desire to protect and to hold... and love. And then images started to associate themselves with the feelings. A smile, grey eyes. He had never seen that face with such a genuine smile, he thought but then he realised that no, he had seen it before. Many times. And he was smiling at Harry. Draco was smiling, and laughing, and all Harry wanted to do was reach out to him.
It was working. He was remembering, and the pieces were slowly coming together to form a whole. He saw Draco grumpily agreeing to come to Friday night drinks, laughing at Harry making a stupid joke, breaking down and crying in Harry's arms. Draco kissing him atop the Astronomy Tower. The memories floated to the surface from where they had been locked deep within him, and he felt the hollowness in his chest filling and evening out.
He remembered. When he finally opened his eyes, he collapsed back in his seat, exhausted. Hermione did the same, letting go of his hand. He realised his face was wet and he wiped away the tears that had fallen.
"Hermione... you did it."
"'Brightest witch of her age,'" she quoted airily.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, that was just a long time to be doing magic."
"It didn't feel like that long."
"Harry, we've been here for about four hours."
"Wait, what?"
Hermione only nodded. A water pitcher appeared in front of them, and they both drank. When they stood, the chairs, table and everything on it disappeared.
"Hermione, thank you," Harry said earnestly, hugging her.
"Of course, Harry. What are you going to do now?"
"Find him. And bring him back." He was determined. Whatever it took, he would bring Draco home.
Hermione smiled. "I knew you'd say that. But how? Did he tell you where he was going?"
"No, but... I can try sending him a message."
The table reappeared with paper, a quill and ink. He thought for a moment then quickly jotted down his message. With a wave of his wand and an incantation he set the paper alight and watch it float up, engulfed by the flame, and disappear.
They waited. Harry knew a response might not come at all, but he was desperate. After a few minutes, his prayers were answered as the flame reappeared, the same piece of paper reforming. Harry caught it and stared at the message written below his.
"What does it say?"
Harry flipped it to face Hermione.
"Coordinates."