The Lost Auror

Years had passed since that disastrous night. Draco Malfoy had moved on in his own way, though every quiet moment, every idle thought, inevitably pulled him back to the wreckage of that raid.

He had told himself countless times that she was gone. That it was over. But there was something—some spark—that refused to die. Even after everything, after years of mourning, he had not truly let her go.

Now, standing in the middle of a small, isolated village in Wiltshire, he found himself doubting everything he had come to accept.

The village was quiet, tucked away from the bustling world, far from the reaches of the Ministry. The kind of place where people could disappear.

It had been an ordinary afternoon by all accounts. The small village of Avebury, nestled in the rolling hills of Wiltshire, felt like a world away from the noise of London or the fast pace of the wizarding world. The streets were narrow, lined with stone cottages, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air from the local bakery.

Draco had wandered into the village with no real plan—just a desire to get away from the constant grind of work at the Ministry. He didn’t realise how badly he needed this break, or how much he’d been yearning for something he couldn’t even name. But that afternoon, everything changed.

He’d been strolling past the village’s small bookshop when he saw her.

She was standing outside, holding a stack of books in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. Her hair was longer now, strands of brown tumbling out of a messy bun at the back of her neck. She was talking to the shopkeeper, laughing about something he couldn’t hear from where he stood.

His breath hitched. He knew her. Or, at least, he had. He would know her anywhere.

Hermione Granger.

But as he took a step closer, his stomach dropped. There was something unsettlingly different about her. She was smiling, talking as though she belonged to this peaceful Muggle world. The confident, fierce woman he once knew—his partner, his friend—was now a stranger in this small corner of the world.

His heart raced, his chest tightening as he stood frozen, watching her. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just walk away. He had spent years thinking she was gone, and now here she was, in front of him, living a completely different life, as though the past hadn’t happened.

He took a deep breath and approached her, heart pounding in his ears. The words seemed to get stuck in his throat as he finally called out.

“Hermione.”

She froze, her body stiffening at the sound of the name, but there was no immediate recognition in her eyes. She turned slowly to face him, looking at him with a polite, confused expression, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Yes?” Her voice was calm, though tinged with curiosity. “Can I help you?”

Draco’s throat went dry, his mind racing. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words came out in a rush.

“Hermione Granger?” he asked, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. “It’s me—Draco Malfoy.”

She blinked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. There was no recognition. No spark of recognition, no flash of familiarity. Only confusion.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, her voice polite but distant. “I don’t think we’ve met. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?” My name is Jane.

The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. She didn’t remember him. She didn’t remember anything. Her expression remained open, but there was nothing in her eyes that indicated she knew him—or anything of their shared past.

He took a step back, stunned, and quickly tried to cover up the shock with a forced, easy smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out faster than he intended. “I must’ve mistaken you for someone else. I thought you were an old friend from… a long time ago.”

Jane tilted her head slightly, studying him for a moment, but she didn’t press further. “That’s alright,” she replied, offering him a polite smile. “It happens sometimes.”

She turned slightly, clearly ready to move on, but Draco’s heart couldn’t move with her. He wanted to say something—anything—to make her remember, but the words were stuck in his chest, lodged somewhere between wanting to hold on and needing to let go.

He nodded stiffly, taking another step back. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Apologies again for the intrusion.”

Jane gave him a brief nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before turning away and walking towards the small cottage nearby.

Draco stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her disappear into the doorway. His chest felt hollow, and the weight of it was unbearable. She didn’t remember him. She didn’t remember anything. The years of searching, of hoping, had led him to this—this woman who was a stranger, not just to him, but to everything she had once been.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there after she had gone inside. The world around him continued on, unaffected, but Draco felt as if he had just been swept into another lifetime altogether. How could it be? How could she not know?

He knew that he should walk away. That this wasn’t his place, that he should leave her to live her life in peace. But he couldn’t. Something inside him refused to accept this version of reality. She was here, in front of him, and he wasn’t going to lose her again.

Not without a fight.

Jane’s POV

Jane Smith stood in front of her small cottage, her hand still gripping the bag of groceries and the stack of books she had just bought. She hadn’t even noticed the breeze picking up, or the soft rustling of leaves in the trees behind her. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in a fog of confusion that seemed to swirl around her as she replayed the encounter in her mind.

Draco Malfoy.

The name felt like a weight on her tongue, though she couldn’t place why. She had never met him, had she? She was certain of that. But when he had called her name, something inside her had stirred—like an echo from a distant past, faint but persistent. His voice had been familiar, like a half-remembered dream that you can’t quite grasp, no matter how hard you try.

He had looked at her so intensely, his expression a mixture of recognition and something else she couldn’t quite define. His eyes had been filled with something—was it hope? But the strangest part had been how easily he had slipped into the conversation, as if they were old friends, as if he had known her for years.

It was odd. She had studied his face, trying to place him, but nothing clicked. His name, his appearance—it all felt like something she should know, something just out of reach. And yet, as quickly as he had arrived, he had retreated. An apology, a forced smile, and then he was gone, leaving behind a sense of confusion that clung to her like a heavy fog.

Why did his name sound so familiar? Why did his voice feel like a thread pulling at something buried deep within her, a part of herself that she couldn’t recall?

Jane pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to shake off the feeling, but it didn’t dissipate. She couldn’t explain it. The whole encounter had felt like a memory she couldn’t quite touch. Like something that was important, something she should understand, but wasn’t allowed to.

She took a deep breath and made her way into the cottage, setting the groceries down on the kitchen counter. Her hands trembled slightly as she unpacked the vegetables, though she couldn’t understand why. There was no real reason for her to feel this way. She had grown used to the quiet routine of her life here, away from the chaos of the world she had no memory of, away from everything that felt too… complicated.

But something about Draco Malfoy had unsettled her.

Was he really who he claimed to be? Was it possible she had once known him?

She walked over to the window, looking out at the small, peaceful village of Ashford. The streets were quiet, the distant sounds of village life a soothing balm to her senses. But even the calm serenity of the scene couldn’t quell the unease gnawing at her gut.

She had been living in this place for what felt like forever, but there were gaps in her memory—gaps that she couldn’t explain. She had no recollection of her past, of who she had been before settling in this village. It was as though someone had taken her life and hidden it behind a wall she couldn’t scale. The simplest things, the most basic memories, were lost to her. It was as if the world had pressed ‘reset’ on her existence, and she had woken up in this strange, unfamiliar life.

What had happened to her?

Why couldn’t she remember?

The encounter with Draco—if that even was his name—was just one more piece in the puzzle of her fractured past. She felt the urge to return to the market, to find him, to ask him what he knew, but something held her back. What if he was lying? What if he wasn’t really who he claimed to be? What if this whole thing was some twisted game she didn’t understand?

She couldn’t explain it, but she felt an undeniable pull. A connection to him that she couldn’t ignore. It was as if her mind knew him, even if her heart and memory couldn’t.

And so she did what she always did when faced with uncertainty—she buried it.

Jane walked to the small desk in the corner of her cottage and began to sort through the books she had bought earlier. Writing had always been a refuge for her, a way to channel her thoughts when they became too overwhelming. She sat down and began scribbling the opening lines of a new story—a fantasy novel, one she had been working on in her free time. It was the one constant thing in her life that gave her a sense of purpose, a way to piece together the fragments of her own identity through the stories she told.

But as she wrote, her mind kept wandering back to him.

Draco Malfoy.

She would have to sort this out eventually, wouldn’t she? But for now, she would hide behind her words. She would write her story, just as she had always done—one page at a time.

Draco’s POV

Draco Malfoy sat in the small café, staring down at his untouched cup of tea. His mind wandered back to the woman he had encountered earlier—Jane Smith. Her name still felt strange on his tongue, yet it seemed to belong to her somehow. He couldn’t get her out of his head. He hadn’t expected to find her here, in this quaint little village, of all places. And when he had first spotted her, his heart had skipped a beat, even before he had said her name.

He had thought he was imagining it. The connection, the familiarity, the strange pull. But when she turned to him, confused, asking why he’d called her by the wrong name—Hermione—he knew.

It was her.

Hermione Granger, the woman he had believed was lost to him forever.

But something was wrong. Jane Smith—whoever she was now—had no recollection of who he was. She had no memory of their shared past. No memory of the life they had almost had, the moments they had almost shared. It was as if she had been wiped clean, a new person entirely. He could see it in her eyes—the vacant, uncertain look that didn’t belong to the Hermione he had once known.

It tore at him, the realization that she wasn’t the same person. His Hermione was gone, and in her place stood this woman—lost, unaware of the world she had once been a part of.

Draco rubbed his temples, his thoughts spiraling. He had watched her walk away after their brief exchange, her footsteps light, as if nothing significant had happened. But to him, everything had changed. He had thought he was seeing a ghost, and now he didn’t know what to do.

He should have left it at that—should have just walked away. He had tried to reassure himself that it was better this way, that he should leave her to her life, to whatever she had now. But that pull he felt toward her… It wouldn’t go away.

He knew he had to see her again. He had to understand why she didn’t remember him, why she didn’t remember anything about their shared past. It was the only way he could begin to make sense of this whole mess. And maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to find a path back to her.

He had spent years punishing himself for not saying the words he should have said. Not telling her how he felt before it was too late. Now, here she was, living a completely different life, with no memory of him or of the magic they had once shared. And yet, there was still a chance—no matter how small—that he could reach her, find a way to restore what they had lost.

The decision was made. He would return to the village.

Jane’s POV

Jane woke the next morning with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had dreamed of the man from the café—the one who had called her Hermione. His face had appeared in her dream, and even though she had seen him only briefly, he seemed to haunt her thoughts. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had looked at her that way—like she meant something to him, like she was someone important. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him, something she should remember.

But the more she tried to make sense of it, the more frustrating it became. She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t remember anything about him, let alone why he had called her Hermione. She didn’t even know what that name meant.

Sighing, Jane decided to distract herself. She pulled herself out of bed and began her usual morning routine—brewing tea, taking a quick walk around her cottage, and gathering the few things she needed to get through the day. The work in the village had been quiet lately, and she hadn’t been as focused on her writing as she would have liked. Perhaps she needed a change of scenery to clear her head.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to Draco Malfoy—no, that wasn’t his name anymore. Draco had been a ghost of her past life, and Jane couldn’t afford to let herself get lost in it. The more she thought about the encounter, the more it unsettled her. What if he was right? What if she had known him, had been someone different in another life?

But then another thought crossed her mind: What if she was just imagining it all? After all, she didn’t remember anything before waking up in this village. She had no family, no ties to anyone. She had no idea where she had come from.

Jane grabbed her bag and stepped outside, determined to put the thoughts out of her head for now. She had a walk to the village market ahead of her. She needed to keep moving.

Draco’s POV

It had been a few days since the awkward encounter in the café, and Draco had found himself drawn to the village more and more. He knew it was reckless, that he was putting himself at risk, but he couldn’t stay away from Jane. Every time he thought about her, about the way she had looked at him with confusion, the ache in his chest deepened.

It had been years since he had felt like this. He had convinced himself that his feelings for Hermione—no, Jane—were buried, lost along with the memories of the past. But seeing her, so alive, so real, brought everything rushing back. All the regrets, all the things he had never said, things he had never done. He hadn’t been there for her when it mattered most. He had let her slip away, and now she was someone else entirely.

Draco was starting to question what had happened to her. How had she ended up here, with no memory of her past? Was it a curse? A spell gone wrong? He had a million questions, and he was certain that only Jane could answer them.

He took a deep breath and glanced around the small village square. There she was again—Jane, walking along the street as if she belonged here, as if this was the only life she had ever known. Her movements were steady, calm, but there was a distant quality to her expression, a part of her that seemed to be looking for something. Looking for him?

Draco shook his head. He had no idea, but one thing was certain—he had to get closer. He needed to speak with her again. Maybe, just maybe, she would remember him.

He made his decision and followed her at a safe distance, his heart hammering in his chest. This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.