Chapter 3
“What are YOU doing here?”
“What are you doing HERE?”
“I work here.”
“You work here? I work here!”
Granger huffed in frustration and let the door slam shut as she entered. Pinching the bridge of her nose, as if trying to force calm, she walked across the room, her steps punctuated by the clicking of her heels.
“Malfoy.” Her voice was measured as she stood in front of him. “I don’t know what is going on, but I’ve been assigned to the Memory Room from today. I’m to research … well. It doesn’t matter what I’m researching. You can’t be here. You need to leave”
Draco scoffed. Gods, this witch hadn’t changed at all. He could feel the righteousness rolling off of her. He stood and loomed over her slight frame.
“Granger. Get off your high horse.” He fought to keep his voice level. Something about her had never failed to raise his hackles. Might be that superior way she was looking at him or the obnoxious way she always thought she knew everything. “I think you’ll find that I was assigned to work here. I was getting a head start on research before you so rudely interrupted with your shrieking.”
“Shrieking?!” she interrupted, her voice not at all sharp.
Draco rubbed his temples in an apparent attempt to prove his point.
“Yes, Granger. Shrieking. Must you be so shrill this early in the morning.” She narrowed her honey-brown eyes at him. He waved dismissively as he sat back down. “I think you’ll find we’ve both been assigned here, so by all means, grab a chair and get to work. Or else you can go and find Bulder and make his ears bleed instead.”
Hermione crossed her arms. Draco turned back to his desk and resumed his note taking.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He rolled his eyes and looked up. Hermione glared down at him, arms crossed and foot tap-tap-tapping.
“Yes, Granger.”
“You need to come with me to see Bulder.”
“And why do I need to do that?” His voice was a drawl – elongating each sound; spurred on as her colour rose.
She huffed.
“Malfoy.” She ground out. “I’m certain you can’t want to work with me any less than I want to work with you. The only way we can ensure that this remains the last conversation we are forced to have is to speak to Bulder.”
She had a point.
Draco pushed himself forward and strode toward the door. He reached for the handle and turned towards her with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you coming Granger?”
She grumbled as she walked past him and pushed the door open forcefully.
“Granger! Malfoy! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Bulder’s voice boomed over them as they sat in oversized leather armchairs. He was as unlike an Unspeakable as it was possible to be. He seemed to wear some sort of perma-grin and had round ruddy cheeks. His wide-set eyes were a pale cerulean and, more often than not, were alight with mirth.
“I’m not sure Granger would agree with that assessment, Sir”
“Oho! Whatever’s the matter Miss Granger. I thought you were excited for your first assignment? The Memory Room, no? I was going to pop in and see how you were both settling in – go over the parameters of your assignment.”
“Well, you see Sir,” Hermione smoothed her robes nervously, “That was rather what we,” Draco glared at her, “Well, it was what I wanted to talk to you about. Our assignment? I was unaware I would be partnered for this – let alone with … with Unspeakable Malfoy.”
“Ah yes.” Bulder nodded sagely. “Perhaps I ought to given you a little more warning on who you would be partnered with. I rather thought, Miss Granger, given your rather impassioned defence of Mr Malfoy at his trial, that you wouldn’t be opposed to this partnership. Was I incorrect in this assumption?” He surveyed with her with unusually serious eyes.
Draco smirked as he watched the internal war play out on Hermione’s face. On the one hand it was evident she loathed the idea of working with him, on the other it was ingrained in her character not to disappoint.
“No Sir. Not opposed at all.”
“And you, Mr Malfoy?”
Draco waved his hand airily in response.
“Wonderful!” Bulder clapped his meaty hands together in a resounding smack. “Now – whilst I’ve got you both here let’s discuss the parameters of the assignment. Now – whilst working as interns it became apparent to the Senior Unspeakables that you both have a vested interest in memory magic; making you perfect candidates for this research.”
Draco raised an eyebrow at this – what was Granger’s interest in memory magic? As far as he knew she had come out of the war relatively unscathed.
“The Ministry has requested that we work to uncover the interconnection between emotions and memory; and how this might be used to reverse intentional, or accidental, memory loss. There are two key strands here – the caster in terms of how their emotional state affects the efficacy of spellcasting, and the emotional state of the charmed; by exploring the relationship of the underlying emotional component it is hoped that you will be able to determine ways of undoing some of the more severe damages caused by misused memory magics. This is a long-term project; as with anything here in the Department Of Mysteries we do not expect results immediately. I look forward to seeing how you progress.”
He waved his hands carelessly – they were dismissed.
They had been researching in near silence for the better part of two hours. Hermione huffed every time Malfoy cleared his throat, and Draco rolled his eyes at the incessant scratching of Granger’s quill. The tension in the air was thick, and the seconds seemed to drag.
Draco longed for the 5 o clock chime. He would be out of that room faster than Crabbe & Goyle catching sight of cake. He had a vintage bottle of firewhiskey that he could drown his misery in. What kind of fresh hell was this? Working with Granger for who knew how long, on a project that would inevitably involve her knowing he spent the better part of half a decade in state of near permanent occlusion - a project that could, and would, involve revealing a side of himself that only Pansy knew. To Granger. Merlin, it would be humiliating.
Granger huffed again.
Draco grit his teeth.
He couldn’t take much more of her apparent ire.
His eyes scanned a passage of text.
It has long been determined that the quality of a memory is indicated by its viscosity; the purest memories taking on a gaseous quality whilst tampered recollections are more obstructive. What has little understood is how, and why, memories can in fact differ in colouration. Most who use a pensieve report that their memories are of a bright silver-white, almost Patronus-like in appearance. However, there have been sparse reports of memories taking on a great opacity – to the degree that they may appear smoky or black in appearance.
Hmm. This would be worth exploring. When he was learning Occlumency with Bellatrix the memories in her Pensieve had indeed been a bright silvery colour; an unnaturally calming colour given the fact that she was a complete psychopath. Since the war however, his own memories varied in colour. His childhood tended toward the bright silver-white described in the text, but as the war drew nearer they became smokier.
Draco conjured several phials – pointing his wand carefully at his temple, where is pale skin transitioned to smooth blonde hair, he withdrew three distinct memories. The first emerged like a textbook illustration. The phial was filled with soft white tendrils that swirled delicately. The second was the looming grey of a storm cloud whilst the third, was as dark as the night sky. Draco levitated the phials to an empty shelf several feet above his desk, before pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. He would have to analyse these further; preferably without the observational pile of hair trying to sneak a peek. A spot of lunch first – and a chance to escape the uncomfortable proximity of Granger.
Once the door slammed shut and the echoes of his footsteps petered out, Hermione withdrew her wand and summoned the phials. One by one they landed lightly on the desk in front of her. She picked up each phial in turn, her fingers delicately brushing against the glass; why on earth was one of the memories pitch black. She’d never seen anything like it – and Malfoy hadn’t spoken a word to her all morning. They were supposed to be working as team – and clearly he had found something of relevance!
She glanced toward the Pensieve and down at the memory in her hands.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.
But it would be a terrific invasion of privacy.
It’s not like he would ever share the memories with her.
This was supposed to be a partnership.
He really ought to share any discoveries.
She walked toward the Pensieve.