Memoria Luxareo @tootytots1
Feeling of Magic

"He was a Malfoy?" Hermione whispered, leaning forward to inspect the ring in Malfoy's hand. He ran his finger along the smooth surface, falling back to sit on the rocks as the past rushed to meet him.

Hermione reached back into the hole tugging out a piece of cloth; it looked aged and weathered, the red of it almost completely faded. She gently held it up and squinted, just about making out the outline of a lion.

"This must have been what they were wrapped in," she muttered, glancing up and noticing that Malfoy still hadn't moved. Leaning forward she gently placed her hand over his, jerking back when he jumped, grey eyes meeting hers. Without a word he heaved himself to his feet, climbing down the rocks quickly.

"Wait...where are you going?"

"I'm going to bed, Granger, it's late." He stated, not bothering to turn around.

"What? So that's it? You find an ancient family heirloom, and you're just going to bed?" Hermione screeched, gently folding the delicate material and clamouring down the rocks after him.

"Yes, Granger, that's exactly it. Plus, I don't even know if what I found was a family heirloom." He shrugged, trying to pretend that none of it bothered him; not the magic, not the memories, not mudblood Granger. But he knew it was pointless, everything was bothering him recently, all because of her and her incessant need to be so, so Gryffindor.

"But the memories." Hermione was rushing after him again, the wind blowing her hair in front of her face. With a huff, she shoved it to the side.

Draco stopped, turning to look at her, "The memories of a muggle are hardly reliable." Hermione scoffed, she didn't believe him, no matter how stoic he remained, she knew it bothered him, she knew he was scared, and she wanted to know why.

"Memories are memories, Malfoy, regardless of who has them." She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look.

"Yeah well, they can keep them."

"But don't you think this all seems just a bit convenient like we are being sent a message?" Hermione pondered, following him as Draco began to storm back towards the castle.

"Oh please, Granger, even you can't be that pathetic."

"No, I just…" Hermione stared down at her feet, slightly hurt that he'd called her pathetic, uncertain why it bothered her so much. "There has to be a reason, you know as well as I do, that magic isn't chance. I mean, why else would the wand only work for you?" Draco paused as she said this, glancing down at the wand in his hand. The joke of Hermione Granger casting a spell wrong only went so far, but he desperately wanted to cling onto it.

"You were probably doing it…"

"Oh, grow up, Malfoy. There might be something important here, for both of us, and what? You're just going to walk away because...because of some silly family prejudices?" Draco's eyes became stormy at the mention of his family and Hermione gulped.

"Who are you to talk about my family, mudblood?" Hermione recoiled, the word cutting her deeper than it ever had before. Draco noticed the way she flinched and hated the fact that it made him feel a little guilty.

"I don't know why I bothered helping you?" she said it through gritted teeth, stomping around him.

"Helping me? When have you ever helped me? You're the one that started this whole thing. It was because of you that we ended up in that infernal bowl in the first place." Hermione stopped, twirling round to meet him, her chest nearly meeting Malfoy's as he stumbled to a standstill.

"Why are you so angry? So, what? You found out that not all of your family are deranged muggle haters, perhaps you should be counting your blessings, there might be hope for you yet."

"I told you not to speak about my family. You have no right." every word was laced with malice as his face moved closer to hers.

"And what are you going to do, get your father to give me a good telling off?"

"Why you little…"

"Little what?" she spat, cutting him off, "Little Mudblood? That's getting old don't you think?" She feigned calm, but inside her heart was beating a mile a minute; he was so close and so full of hate, magic was crackling against her skin like tiny fireworks, and her own hate coiled in her gut uncomfortably.

"Doesn't stop it from being true, does it, Granger?"

"What in Merlin's name is your problem?" she scowled, turning her back to the lake and all the hate shimmering in his grey eyes. She needed space to breathe, to think, to get past all the magic and Malfoy. It was suffocating, and confusing. Like trying to glance through a fog to find answers that in her heart she knew weren't there. She couldn't even remember why they'd started arguing. Why did they ever start arguing?

"You're my problem, Granger, sticking your haughty little nose where it doesn't belong, dragging me along on your little 'adventures'." Hermione scowled, increasing her pace, wanting to scream in frustration when he matched it so that she could hear every word. "You just had to find out more about two dead people, had to jump into a bowl and put me through Merlin knows what, just to get answers."

"So, we're just going to ignore the fact that you were sneaking out late at night to find a dead mans belongings, works both ways you know." Hermione winced as he grabbed her arm, yanking her round to look at him, the wind blew his hair out of place again and for a moment the gentle sway of it hypnotised her.

"Do not put me on par with your filth." Hermione yanked her arm away.

"Let go of me," she huffed, and Draco gripped her harder.

"You don't control me, Mudblood. Nothing does; not you, not that stupid bowl."

"Why are you so afraid of it? It can't hurt you."

"IT ALREADY HAS." He shouted it right in her face, and Hermione saw the fear and pain flashing unchecked through his eyes, then he seemed to stop, releasing his grip and stepping back, his hand clamping over his mouth in shock.

"What...what happened?" Hermione muttered, remembering the first time she'd fallen into the Sensieve, the fire, the pain, the fact that she had felt death reaching for her. She'd almost forgotten it all but looking at Draco brought it all rushing back.

"What do you care?"

"Oh please." Hermione rolled her eyes and made a move to walk away.

"Wait." He grasped her arm, gulping heavily and refusing to meet her questioning gaze. "They tortured him...Edward." He finally looked up at her, "It felt, it felt like a thousand knives all just…I couldn't do anything. When I'm him, there's no magic, I can't feel it."

Hermione hadn't even considered the absence of magic. When she was in Mina's memories, she could feel her magic as though it were her own, to imagine something so important no longer being there was unfathomable. Hesitantly, she reached forward, her hand resting on the top of his arm gently. Draco flinched meeting her gaze, an indecipherable expression crossed his features, but he didn't move. The magic of the Sensieve hummed between them, the air around them growing warm, Hermione shivered as sparks danced along her skin, travelling or down her spine. The feeling intensified, till Draco pulled back, ripping himself away from her as if he'd been burnt.

"Don't touch me."

"You feel it too, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Granger." But she could hear the lie in his voice, he felt it just as much as she did, he felt the way it got stronger when they were close, how it felt right.

Draco was opening the door, and Hermione rushed in after him, bumping into his back when he stopped suddenly.

"What the…?" Hermione glanced around, eyes widening as she realised, they hadn't stepped into the corridor but instead stepped into the room with the green pillars. Candles were lighting themselves, the walls were coming to life. Draco shook his head, turning back to the door they'd come through, only to find it wasn't there anymore.

"How is this even possible?" Hermione, whispered, spinning around slowly, her mouth wide open. There was a grating sound as the Sensieve rose out of the floor, floating in front of them. Hermione turned to Draco, just in time to see him gulp heavily before it dragged them both into its depths.

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