Chapter One: The forgotten memory..

It had been weeks since Hermione Granger had begun to feel something was wrong. Her life at Hogwarts had returned to some semblance of normalcy after the war, but something felt… missing. She couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, but there was a gnawing sense of unfamiliarity she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t the way things used to be; there was a quiet emptiness in her heart. At first, Hermione thought it was the stress of exams or perhaps just the weight of her responsibilities. But the more she tried to focus on her studies and her friendships, the more she realized something vital was out of place.

It was in the little things. The dreams that felt just beyond her reach. The feeling of déjà vu when something triggered a memory that didn’t fully belong to her. And most disconcerting of all—the strange flashes of Draco Malfoy, moments where his face appeared suddenly, fleetingly, and then vanished as if erased before she could fully recognize him.

She had thought it was just another one of the lingering effects of post-war trauma, the kind of thing that could haunt someone like an old ghost. But there was something far more specific, far more personal to it. It was as if someone had carefully gone through her mind, pruning away certain parts, smoothing over jagged edges.

The strange feeling hit its peak one evening while she was walking alone through the halls of Hogwarts. She had been on her way to the library, but her feet took her elsewhere, toward a familiar stretch of the castle where the walls seemed to hum with old magic. Without meaning to, she found herself standing before the entrance of the Room of Requirement.

The door shimmered before her, as though waiting for her to ask. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. It had been years since she had been inside, and even then, she’d only ever used it when absolutely necessary. The room, mysterious as always, had been a sanctuary during the war—safe from prying eyes, a place to hide away and heal. But tonight, it felt different. There was no war to end, no secrets to hide. It felt more like a place she had hidden something else: a piece of herself that had been lost.

Hermione stepped inside.

The room was empty, save for a solitary chair by a window, where moonlight spilled across the stone floor in soft beams. The silence seemed to settle over her like a weight. She wasn’t sure why she was here, but it felt like something she had to do. Without thinking, Hermione sank into the chair, her fingers brushing the smooth surface of the wooden arms. The air in the room was still, as if holding its breath.

Then, in a fleeting moment, it happened.

A sudden wave of dizziness rolled over her. It came on quickly, disorienting her as the world around her seemed to tilt. Her stomach churned. She gripped the arms of the chair tightly, trying to steady herself. In the space of a heartbeat, a flash of a memory—*his* face, the pale blonde hair, the smirk that was both mocking and oddly tender—flickered before her eyes.

It was gone before she could grasp it, leaving only a lingering sense of… familiarity.

The dizziness passed as quickly as it had come, but the unease remained. Hermione shook her head, feeling lightheaded as if the world had shifted beneath her feet. She stood slowly, trying to gather her bearings. But then, the memories came in a rush—an avalanche of fragments she didn’t fully understand. Draco Malfoy, standing beside her in a shadowed hallway. His voice, quiet and urgent, whispering her name. His hand—no, not just his hand, but his fingers intertwining with hers in a moment of trust, of vulnerability.

But none of it made sense. It was as if the memory had been planted in her mind, and the pieces didn’t quite fit together.

Hermione staggered backward, her pulse racing. Her mind was spinning with confusion, trying to reconcile the images of Draco with the reality she knew. How could she have ever been close to him? How could she have possibly *cared* for someone like him? It was absurd. He had been her enemy, her tormentor, the Slytherin who had done everything in his power to make her life miserable. There was no way—no way—they had shared anything beyond animosity.

Her breath quickened, and for a moment, she felt as if she might crumble under the weight of it all.

“*What’s happening to me?*” she whispered to the empty room, the words tasting like acid in her mouth.

Just then, the sound of a footstep broke the stillness. Hermione spun toward the door, her heart hammering in her chest. The Room of Requirement remained quiet, but her sense of unease remained, as if the very air in the room had become thick with tension.

Without warning, her mind erupted again, this time with more clarity. She *remembered*—a memory that made her chest tighten, a moment of standing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with Draco, the stars above them, his hand brushing against hers, his expression unreadable but soft. The fear, the longing, the undeniable pull between them.

And then it all shattered as quickly as it had come.

No. It was impossible. She must have been mistaken. It had to be the stress, the exhaustion. But something deep within her refused to let the thoughts go.

Something was missing. And it was clear now—whatever it was, it had been taken. From her, from her mind, from her heart.

Her pulse raced as the overwhelming reality of it all hit her.

Draco Malfoy. She had known him as more than an enemy. And now, it seemed, that everything—*everything*—had been erased.

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This chapter sets the tone of Hermione’s confusion and realization, establishing the mystery around Draco’s actions. Let me know if you want me to continue or revise anything!

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