Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
“There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.”
— Lord Voldemort
The Battle of Hogwarts
“The boy… Is he dead?”
A stillness permeated the clearing as the air crackled with dark magic — a smell of sulfur, nightshade, and fresh blood. On the ground lay a body, prone on the graying grass, untouched by the silvery light of the pale dawn.
“You,” Voldemort rasped, “examine him.”
Lucius Malfoy limped towards the body then slid two fingers along the boy’s neck. A pulse.
“He’s alive.”
“Excellent.”
***
Hermione Granger stood on a field of dead bodies, hands trembling, dirt and blood caked underneath her fingernails. Her heart hammered, adrenaline thrumming through her veins, her magic exhausted. She tried to block out images of limp red hair and brown eyes that lost their mischief, of two pale hands entwined even in death. No, she couldn’t let herself think, couldn’t let herself feel.
There was a moment of stillness, time slowing as the flashes of green, red, and yellow simmered as a figure walked out of the woods.
Harry.
Hermione exhaled a sigh of relief as her best friend walked out of the fog. Despite the dirt and blood, he seemed unharmed. She felt familiar hands, calloused and trembling, slip into hers.
“He bloody did it,” Ron exhaled.
She almost called out, almost reached out but paused upon seeing his face. Gone were his glasses and gone was the boyish charm of the boy she grew up with. Instead of green eyes staring back at her, crimson ones gleamed in return.
“Harry?” Ginny called out in confusion, walking forward but stepping back immediately when Nagini slithered around Harry and hissed in her direction.
“Foolish girl, Harry Potter is dead,” a voice laced with venom hissed out of Harry’s mouth. A cruel smile stretched over Harry’s lips as a laugh resonated eerily through the space.
“I must thank you all, for without you I would not have been able to obtain this form. You see, by the time I imbued my soul into the third horcrux, my form began deteriorating. My body weakening from all the power I amassed. And so, on October 31st 1981, I sought to prepare a vessel.”
“ No ,” Hermione whispered in horror.
“Did you truly think that a mere child could defeat me? That that night when Harry Potter lived, it was because of goodness and love ?” He laughed, a triumphant and dangerous look in his eyes that did not fit Harry’s kind face. “That night the Potters died, I imbued a part of my soul into a child. It hadn’t worked before but this time it did.”
“Harry, I know you’re in there! Fight him! I know you’re in there!” Ron shouted. Hermione clutched his hand tighter, pulling him back. This was not Harry.
The Dark Lord chuckled.
“He’s dead. The moment I struck him with the killing curse when he so bravely gave himself up in the woods, it killed the part that was Harry Potter. All this time I have been waiting for his body to acclimate, to surrender to my soul and the moment he selflessly gave himself up to me? He was ripe for the taking. And you were all too foolish not to see it,” he hissed.
Many gasped and wept as the Death Eaters on the other side leered with a hungry look in their eyes.
“I own this vessel, I own this body now. Had you noticed Harry’s struggle all these years instead of putting your faith blindly in the idea that good always triumphs, maybe you would have realized what was festering in his soul instead of feeding him false hope that he could overcome it. But your ignorance has cost you. And now, not only am I back, but I am restored to my full power.
“Come forward and join us,” his crimson eyes gleamed triumphantly. “Or die.” Bellatrix cackled, a wild look in her black eyes. Some wept and others stuttered forward, too shocked that their saviour, their friend stood before them, gone in every way that mattered.
“From this day forth you will put your faith in me. I am merciful. The world I want is for all the wizarding kind after all, where our natural power is unleashed as it is meant to be.” Voldemort smiled as his followers cheered.
Just then Neville raced forward, arms raised, the Sword of Gryffindor glinting as he pulled it out of the ragged hat. But before he could even lift his arms, Nagini struck, sinking her teeth into his neck. Hermione stood paralyzed, watching his body spasm as Nagini wrapped her body around him, the sword winking out into existence.
“I have been reborn and so will this world,” Harry — Voldemort — continued. Neville gurgled, eyes rolling back as blood dripped from his lips. “On this day, let it be known that the Order of Serpents has begun.”
Neville’s body went rigid as cracks of apparition rumbled through the air, many escaping the horror before them.
They lost. They lost.
Hermione remained unmoving, watching the light fade from Neville’s eyes. Hermione choked on her horror, bile rising in her throat. She looked up, watching Harry’s face as a crazed triumphant look entered his eyes upon seeing her. He lifted his wand but before he could utter any words, she was pulled into darkness.
TOoS cover art by the amazing elivrayn, comissioned by bookingitwithcarmen and thatswhatnatread 🥺
Chapter 2: Chapter I
Chapter Text
“And when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it, Freedom or Loneliness?”
— Charles Bukowski
3.5 years later
Draco Malfoy stood before her, face gaunt, eyes guarded, and pale features smoothed into a cold indifference. Despite the bags under his eyes and face smeared with ash and blood, his countenance held a hint of arrogance in the arch of his aristocratic brow and upturn of his pointed nose. He almost loomed over her, three and a half years adding significantly to his height and build. Nevertheless, Hermione stood straight a few feet away from him, eyes defiant and unwavering as she stared straight into his eyes, wand pointing steadily towards his neck.
“Granger.”
“Malfoy.”
“Hermione,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep calm voice, “we’ve discussed this.”
Indeed, they had discussed this. Last night, Draco Malfoy showed up at one of the True Order’s confidential meeting points, surrendering his wand and seeking asylum in exchange for information. Malfoy Manor was reported to have been consumed by a fire, no known inhabitants escaping. And hours later here he was, Draco Malfoy covered in soot and cuts, offering to turn sides after three years of service to the Dark Lord.
Had the Order of the Phoenix — the True Order — not been desperate, had they not been forced underground as the Dark Lord solidified his hold on Wizarding Britain, controlling the Minister of Magic and news publications with what he called the Order of Serpents, the True Order would not have been so willing to let a Death Eater so easily into their ranks. A Death Eater from one of the most prominent pureblood families that advocated for everything Voldemort stood for.
Yet here he stood, wandless in the safehouse she currently inhabited, under her supervision. Hermione’s jaw tightened.
“He’s been cleared, Hermione,” Kingsley said in exasperation.“We’ve used veritaserum on him, searched his memories, and his information seems legitimate. We need his information, you know we do.”
Hermione inhaled, having already read the reports.
“But we will be taking caution, which is why we want you to monitor his behavior.” Before she could protest, he continued. “We’re running out of information, of resources, of manpower. Look, I understand your hesitancy to trust another person, especially him. You’ve been used to operating on your own over these years, running missions without a partner, gathering vital information, indeed — and we have respected your wishes to isolate yourself from everyone. I know it’s been hard after… the battle, and after Ron ran away —”
“Don’t.”
“Yes, I know, I know. But we need you to do this. This is a risk we need to take.”
“And what is his motive? Are you telling me he simply had a change of heart?” She laughed without humor.
“His son.”
Hermione lowered her wand at Kingsley’s look of warning, noticing Malfoy’s lips twitch almost imperceptibly. As Kingsley reiterated the terms of his supervision, Hermione mentally went over the information on his file. He had been married to Astoria Greengrass a couple months after the battle. She had died, however, while giving birth to their son due to a blood illness. Both his parents were dead, Lucius dying during an ambush, Narcissa during the fire that consumed Malfoy Manor a couple nights ago. And all the while he had remained devoted to the Dark Lord, having not only been involved but a leader of multiple raids, battles, and assassinations to rid the world of mudbloods .
Twelve major battles, seventy-five raids, responsible for the death of over 156 muggleborns and muggles alone — numbers she had already committed to memory as she scoured the dead bodies and rubble in the aftermath. It was his face on the papers, sculpted with a cold cruelty, a lack of remorse, and a look of superiority as he stood behind his master. Even as he stood before her now, claiming a change of heart, the numbers and images were seared into her perfect memory.
“Let’s make something clear, Malfoy,” she said with an icy calm, cutting off Kingsley, “if you even so much as try to threaten me or the Order, or even hint at betraying us by lying or refusing to disclose information, you’ll wish you were consumed by that fire.”
“Trust me, Granger, being chained to your presence is a punishment in itself,” he snarled as he stepped closer.
“Put one fucking — ”
“Hi.” A pale blond head popped out from under Malfoy’s robes. Round silver eyes peeked up at her shyly. “Who you?”
For a moment, Hermione paused at the sight of the little boy, about two years-old, clutched protectively in Malfoy’s arms. A Notice-Me-Not charm must have been cast on him before Malfoy surrendered his wand, she thought, as she had not noticed the child with curious eyes that was evidently wrapped under Malfoy’s robes.
“Hi,” she responded breathlessly. She stood there, stunned, staring at the small child who burrowed his head into Malfoy’s neck then curiously peeked at her between his fingers. “I’m Hermione. What’s your name?”
“ Mi-ni ?” he said tentatively, looking at his father who gave him a terse nod. “Hi, Mini. My name is Scow-pius.”
“Hello, Scorpius,” Hermione said slowly, glancing briefly at Malfoy who gave her a dangerous look. His body was rigid as he assumed a defensive stance. “I’m not here to hurt you. You’ll be living with me from now on, is that ok?”
She looked at Malfoy again with a guarded look of her own, nodding at him rigidly. He nodded back as Scorpius blushed and smiled at her.
“Is ‘kay.”
***
After Granger clinically gave them a quick tour of the safehouse they inhabited, she left them at their room. It wasn’t much, but the safehouse was remote and secure from what he could sense with the wards. Granger had told him it had previously been owned by a muggleborn family that had died in the war, looking at him accusingly as she did so. His jaw had clenched but he simply ignored her righteous look.
The safehouse had only one level but it was moderately spacious with a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a small library. Although it was acceptably clean, no paint peeling and furnished with light wood, he couldn’t hide his sneer at the mess of books and parchments laying around.
Finally alone in their room, Draco’s arms twitched towards his bare holster on his arm before remembering that he had no wand to set up wards around the small room. He let out a sigh, gently placing Scorpius on the bed, his head lolling having fallen asleep during Granger’s tour. Merlin, he thought as he lay beside his son, she was still an arrogant bitch with a know-it-all complex.
In many ways she looked the same and didn’t. She still had a riot of curls on her head that he was still convinced breathed to life if she ever deigned to stay still. The war had definitely filled her out — no longer the scrawny awkward girl in the library. Instead, she was honed with a kind of poise of someone sharpened by years at war. There was still a softness to her in her dimpled cheeks and pert nose but a hardness in her eyes where he observed her Gryffindor-fire dulled into cool hardness.
And the way she looked at him — straight in the eye. It was almost unsettling.
“Daddy?” his son mumbled, reaching out for him.
“I’m here, I’m here, Scorp. We’re safe now.” Draco gave a weak smile, shutting his eyes and inhaling the scent of his son. They were gone, fucking gone. Trading one cage for another perhaps, but away from that fucking monster.
“I promise I’ll do better. I’ll make this right,” he murmured before pressing his lips to his son’s forehead. In response, Scorpius buried himself further into his father’s neck.
***
Hermione had been going over her orders for an upcoming mission in the library, when she heard an argument in the kitchen.
“Watson doesn’t serve anyone, Watson is a free elf .” Hermione walked into the kitchen, seeing Malfoy red in the face, towering over Watson. Despite the angry look on Malfoy’s face, Watson held his ground, his wrinkled leathery face contorting into a sneer, watery purple eyes glaring into slits.
“Is there a problem here?” Hermione asked, eyes narrowed. She had been in and out of the last two days verifying Malfoy’s information. The Death Eater hideouts contained blueprints and recipes on experimental weapons that she immediately reported to the True Order. She was still uncertain however how successful their experiments have gone and the true extent of their damage.
“I was simply asking this house-elf to prepare some lunch for Scorpius and me.”
“He’s not a house elf Malfoy, he’s an Order member.” She smirked at his incredulous look. “In fact, Watson over here has a higher authority over you. He oversees escape routes and emergency response strategies given his knowledge of pureblood homes. And he aids in communication and evacuations given his ability to apparate anywhere.”
“I see.” His jaw clenched. He looked down at her as a mask slipped over his features, then walked out the room.
“How much trouble did he give you?”
“Watson has it handled. Watson is used to pureblooded aristocrats, he is.” Watson scowled.
Despite Kingsley’s comment that she had been working primarily in isolation, only reporting to Order meetings when necessary, she was often with Watson. They got along well, her and the old elf. She had found him in an abandoned pureblood manor, chained and his master dead. After freeing him, he wanted to help. It was easier with him and the silent understanding they had — no need to talk or pry.
“Good.” She smiled at him. “I verified the initial information Malfoy gave us. It’s legitimate so far,” she commented as she pulled down a mug and started making tea. Ever since the True Order was put into hiding, only able to instigate selected targeted attacks, Hermione had taken on the role of strategist and information gatherer. She was ranked highly, privy to confidential information and she was free to go on her own missions, as she preferred.
After years of acting as the brains of the Golden Trio, she was in her element uncovering information and making connections through logical deduction and research. And for once, no one belittled her for it or made her feel ashamed of her intellect. During her days at Hogwarts, she had not been willing to pay the price of intellect, not been willing to have no friends nor be excluded from the crowd. So she had kept quiet when knowledge excited her, tried to compromise herself into staying silent and indulging others in common conversation. But that was over now — she was done trying to muffle her intellect, she had nothing to lose anyways.
Harry was gone. Ron was gone, having run away, being unable to accept that Harry was dead . Her parents were safe, but obliviated. The remaining Order members from Hogwarts including Ginny, Seamus, the Patil twins, Cho, and others were there. But she couldn’t connect with them, no matter how much she tried. Some even clung on to hope that Harry was still in there. And she couldn’t stand sitting there, forcing a smile and trying to focus on the good things while pretending they weren’t in the middle of a war. And so, there she was, with only herself left.
“Ms. Granger must still be careful. Watson has heard plenty about the Malfoy heir.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Chapter Text
“For all that terror, for all the commotion, for all the unease you feel, you cannot close your eyes. You see. You see voraciously. You cannot stop seeing.”
— Cristina Rivera Garza (translated by Sarah Booker)
Hermione held her breath under the Invisibility Cloak that once belonged to her best friend. She tried to ignore how it still smelled like him — citrus, evergreen, and muggle soap. She watched behind the clear veil, crouching behind one of the crates that resided in the Death Eater warehouse marked by Malfoy.
Just as Malfoy had mapped out, the cavernous space had two exits, three windows on each side, and crates of Dark Objects. Even though the crates gave no hint regarding what the objects inside were, she could feel them. Some burned her fingertips when she got too close and others beckoned to her, calling to her own magic. They whispered to her, calling to her darkest emotions and thoughts like a summons to her blood. But she gritted her teeth and pushed back against the pull, focusing on her task.
Despite having modified the cloak to conceal sound, Hermione went rigid, trying to remain silent upon seeing Bellatrix standing in the eerie green lamp light. A damp coolness slithered down her spine at the sight of the woman who carved the slur into her arm. As if in answer to the call of its maker, she felt her scar burning. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood.
Bellatrix turned towards her direction, hair wild, face so wane and pale Hermione would have assumed she was sickly if it hadn’t been for the wide smile on her face. She was accompanied by two other Death Eaters she couldn’t identify. Their silver masks gleamed a poisonous green under the lamplight. They seemed to be examining an open crate that Hermione could not see from where she crouched. Nevertheless, she could feel the malicious magic that thrummed from the box.
“The Dark Lord will be pleased indeed,” Bellatrix crooned. Out of nowhere, she grabbed the arm of one of the Death Eaters, pushing his sleeve up. The Death Eater remained silent, but visibly flinched when she dug her nails into his flesh, dark blood dripping in rivulets down his forearm. Then she pressed the tip of her wand sharply against his Dark Mark. The snake on his arm moved and coiled, the jaws of the skull yawning.
Suddenly, Hermione heard a crack, followed by a hissing sound and dark smoke unfurling. Immediately Bellatrix and her companions were on their knees.
“My Lord,” they exhaled reverently.
“Rise.”
Hermione’s hand shook as she clutched her wand tighter. That voice. Harry — her Harry — stood before her. His back was turned towards her, black robes billowing but she recognized the dark unruly hair that refused to submit. He started to walk around Bellatrix and Hermione’s breath caught upon seeing his face fully exposed in the light — no glasses, face chiseled and hardened, crimson eyes pulsing like hot coals. It was his lightning bolt scar however that caught her off guard. The scar was the color of obsidian, black tendrils spreading out from it. His veins , she realized. Black veins delicately sprawled around the edges of his pale face like spider webs.
“I see you’ve successfully retrieved the object.” Har — the Dark Lord said in a hissing voice. “But only after weeks of failed attempts,” he snarled.
Suddenly Bellatrix spasmed on the floor, the Elder Wand pointing at her as she was hit with a cruciatus. The other two stepped back as she arched off the ground, a morbid mix of a cry and laugh leaving her cracked bleeding lips. Hermione’s breath grew ragged, feeling a confusing mix of satisfaction and fear at seeing her best friend torture the crazed woman.
When it stopped, the two Death Eaters dropped to their knees.
“My – my Lord,” they trembled, “forgive us. It won't happen again.”
“Be sure that it doesn’t,” he spat as he raised his wand in their direction.
***
Hermione felt like she could finally breathe when she felt the warmth of the wards envelop her once she stepped into the safehouse and removed her muddied boots and robes. Her hands were still shaking and although she tried to inhale steadily, the last remnants of her control shattered. She collapsed on the floor, gritting her teeth to keep the screaming in her head from coming out. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of mad eyes leering over her, a blade against her flesh, her veins on fire, of red eyes and blood blood blood everywhere — fuck, fuck, fuck .
Seeing her , seeing Harry ’s face. It was all too much, all at once. She clawed at the boards until her nails bleed, dry heaving. They were gone, all gone. So many sacrifices and it was all for nothing. They were losing, still fucking losing. Guilt creeped up her veins. If she had just, if she had just fucking —
“Mini?”
Hermione’s head snapped up at the sight of Scorpius Malfoy waddling his way towards her, a worn stuffed dragon clutched in his arms. The moonlight shining through the paned glass illuminated his curious but terrified eyes.
“Hello, Scorpius,” she said with a stiff smile, trying to control her breathing and mask her panic.
“Is Mini sad?” he asked softly, brows furrowing and taking tentative steps forward until he was only a foot from her. “Is Mini – is Mini have bad dream?”
“Yes,” Hermione responded after a moment, her voice cracking. It was all a bad dream truthfully — a nightmare. But she forced herself to pull herself together, at least for a moment, for the little child before her. “I’m alright. I’ll – I’ll be alright.”
At her more reassuring smile, he grinned, inching his way closer. He looked so much like Malfoy when they were kids. His features were softer, however, and there was a playful innocence in them that made her heart clench.
“Daddy is always pwotecting Scowpius from bad dreams. He can pwotect Mini too!”
Before she could respond, Malfoy skidded into the hallway, eyes wide with panic, his alabaster skin even more pale than the moonlight.
“Scorpius!”
“Hi, daddy!” The boy smiled cheekily at his father. Hermione took that brief moment to let a mask slip over her features as she stood up. Pretending . That was easy, that was natural to her now.
“What are you doing! What did I say about sneaking around?” The boy’s father scooped his son up into his arms, his shoulders relaxing as he shut his eyes. When he opened them, they landed on Hermione with suspicion.
“Mini has bad dream! Scowpius was helping Mini! Just like daddy,” Scorpius giggled.
Hermione reddened when Malfoy raised an eyebrow, eyeing her with both distrust and disdain.
“I see. Well, I’m sure she can handle herself. Let’s get back to bed,” he said.
“Kay! Night night, Mini.” Scorpius turned his tiny head towards hers and smiled sweetly.
“Goodnight,” she whispered, ignoring his father’s glare.
She let out a breath when they disappeared from view and shut her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel everything in one moment and then nothing in the next. She let the numbness seep into her veins — she could not allow herself to feel, not now. Upon her heart rate settling down, she opened her eyes, staring at the darkness before her. Then she walked into it.
***
Hermione spent the whole day in the tiny library pouring over the information she gathered the night prior. She had already finalized and sent out her report to Kingsley, but she had yet to piece together what the Dark Lord’s plans were regarding the Dark Objects. She was so deep into her thoughts that she was caught off guard when she found a pair of round silver eyes staring at her, barely peeking out from the edge of the desk.
“Oh, hello!”
Scorpius blushed, taking a step back and staring at his feet.
“Hello,” he said shyly, glancing up at her. Hermione slowly made her away around the table and knelt before him.
“Are you looking for your daddy?”
“No,” he said, slyly looking behind him before continuing. “Daddy is in shower. I secwetly escaped!” The little tyke had a hint of mischief — and what looked like triumph — in his eyes.
“Well, you’re a sneaky boy aren’t you,” Hermione said as she chuckled. “My – my best friends used to love sneaking around causing all sorts of trouble.” She smiled sadly.
“Is there something you’re looking for?” she asked.
“Books!” he replied, his eyes large and full of excitement. “Daddy always reads to Scorpius! But daddy said – daddy said he fowgot to bring books.”
For a moment she was surprised knowing that Malfoy read books to his son. She had assumed that from the moment Scorpius was born — based on what she understood about purebloods — he was raised by nannies or house-elves. Pureblood parents never took a hands-on role when it came to caring for their children. Malfoy’s upbringing seemed to prove her assumptions, but then again they were in the middle of a war. Perhaps he sought to have a more direct role in his son’s upbringing, which seemed to make sense from what she had observed thus far. A part of her began to wonder when the innocence before her would be corrupted, when Mini would be replaced with Mudblood . Hermione suppressed the thought for now.
“Well Scorpius, you’re just in luck! The family that previously lived here left some children’s books that I absolutely loved as a child.” Hermione accio ’d a book that flew into her hand and handed it over.
She grinned at Scorpius’ confused expression when he tried to make sense of the cover and the words.
“It’s called Goodnight Moon . My parents used to read it to me every — ”
“ Scorpius ? Granger what the fuck are you doing with my son!” Malfoy stormed in angrily. His son was still distracted by the book in his hands but Hermione had to fight her instinct to shield him and instead met Malfoy’s glare.
“I didn’t take him if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said coldly as the blond took his son into his arms.
Malfoy glared at her then turned and left the room. She almost relaxed until he walked back into the room without Scorpius.
“I swear, Granger, if you ever hurt one hair on my son’s head — ”
“ Me ? Me ?” she bellowed. “I would never harm a child even if he came from the likes of you .”
“Save it! I see that look in your eyes! It’s hatred . Everyone always thought you were the goody Golden Girl,” he snarled, “but oh, the stories I know of you, Granger. Even before the war, even at Hogwarts —”
“You don’t know anything —”
“What? Can’t handle your perfect reputation being ruined? Rita? Umbridge?” he chuckled. “Should I go on? Tell me, how many more have become victims to your schemes and plans.”
“ Fuck you , Malfoy. Do you know why I have had to cross those lines? How I have had to claw my way into a world that saw me as scum? You should! It was from your lips after all that I was first called a mudblood ,” she spat, pulling up her sleeve to reveal the ugly scar that marred her flesh forever.
His eyes widened, then looked away. He looked like he was going to say something but she didn’t give him the chance.
“ I was a fucking child . Since day one, I’ve had to prove myself. It didn’t matter how hard I worked, what grades I got, or how much I sacrificed, it wasn’t enough . That word you so proudly called me? The word that haunts me until now?” She felt herself going hysterical, but she couldn’t stop. “And you have the audacity to act like you have the moral high ground? You served that fucking monster! I read through your interrogation report. And while I do believe that your main motivation for switching sides is your son’s and your survival, you’re not fooling anyone by pretending that blood purity is something you don’t give a shit about anymore — ”
“ I never fucking cared about blood purity ,” he hissed.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue back but he beat her to it.
“I was a fucking child too! I was taught blood prejudice but I never really gave a shit. I tried, but the only thing I cared about was survival and my family . That hasn’t changed.”
“Still, I bet you don’t like the idea of you child talking to a mud — ”
“What the fuck do you want me to say, Granger? That I chose the wrong side? That my family fucked up so badly, it literally got them killed?!” His eyes were venomous as he took a step closer, but Hermione stood her ground. “Because you’re right — I picked the wrong side, I told myself to believe in this blood bullshit because I hoped it would make it easier. You think I don’t know how bad I’ve cocked up having destroyed my own son’s future?! All for some fucking half-blood mad man with Potter’s face who tortures — ”
“Stop, just stop.” Hermione clutched her head. She was overwhelmed and wasn’t ready to hear about Harry.
Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. When they opened, they were cold and lifeless. Occlumency . She had almost forgotten he was an Occlumens.
“All I’m saying is that I want this war to end. I want Scorpius to have a future that doesn’t involve running, hiding, and death.” He looked at her for another moment, almost hesitant. “I — I’m sorry I called you a mudblood. But you must believe me when I say I never truly believed in it no matter how much I wanted to and tried to. Merlin knows how much I wish I could have taken back a lot of things but what’s done is done. I once thought it was too late to change things and undo what’s been done, but after Scorpius I can no longer let myself believe that.”
There was a moment of silence between them, neither breaking eye contact. Hermione moved first, nodding her head and turned back to her work. She exhaled a breath once the door clicked shut.
***
Draco felt exhausted. More and more the world seemed to take from him. At first his childhood then his own home taken by the Dark Lord himself. Then his father. Astoria. His mother. Fuck . And when he thought he had nothing left, his past actions and decisions threatened to take his own child from him. Living never seemed more terrifying than death. But for his son, he would give everything he had.
“Daddy, no !” Draco sighed, reflexively shutting his eyes when water splashed against him as Scorpius tried to avoid the water.
Scorpius began shrieking, tears running down his contorted features the moment he was put in the bath. As much as Draco loved his son, he still hadn’t grown accustomed to Scorpius’ meltdowns before bath time. When Scorpius started speaking properly at one years old, and expressed quite clearly his disdain for baths, Draco had felt like drowning then and there. He didn’t know what to do because fuck he didn’t know how to raise a child. But there was no one else he could really turn to. His mother had been too sickly half the time and he didn’t trust anyone else.
“Scorpius, please .” Draco winced, flushing at the thought of Granger hearing the noise. He instinctively reached for his wand to cast a Silencing Charm but curled his fingers when he remembered he was wandless. Like a fucking muggle . He refused to give her an excuse to verbally attack him and leverage the opportunity to turn him out.
Draco tuned out Scorpius’ sobbing as he rubbed soothing circles around his tiny shampooed blond head. His thoughts returned to Granger and the fight they’d had earlier. He hadn’t been lying. He never gave shit about blood purity. In the beginning perhaps, if his pathetic attempts at copying his father and gaining approval could be counted. Fuck, he really wanted to believe in it in the beginning — it would have made things easier, more simple.
But his mother’s blood ran stronger in his veins. While Lucius Malfoy sought power, to the point of submitting himself for it, Narcissa Black held no loyalties but to her family. Despite her quiet and unassuming role as Lady Malfoy, she would watch the world burn — let herself burn — betraying those who threatened her family without so much as a blink if it meant the survival of those she loved. Blood purity be damned.
And that’s what she had done on the night he and Scorpius escaped. She burned down Malfoy Manor and smiled when the flames engulfed her.
“Dadd – Daddy! N – no more no more!” Scorpius wailed while Draco continued to rub circles on his back.
“It’s all over now,” he said as he padded Scorpius down with a pathetically thin and coarse towel. Scorpius had calmed down enough to just sniffling and once dried and dressed, Draco carried him to their bed.
“Come on, Scorp. It wasn’t so bad.” Draco would have chuckled at his son’s little scowl if it weren’t for the utterly severe look on the child’s face that told him that yes it was that bad and he couldn’t be convinced otherwise.
Other than bath time, Scorpius was an obedient little boy. Despite feeling grateful that Scorpius did what he was told most of the time, such as when asked to stay in one place or be quiet, Draco felt guilty that his son, in his own way, understood that there was danger in the kind of world he lived in. Consequently, he had matured much faster, understanding Draco’s look of panic when he put his finger to his lips or held on to him a little tighter.
“I know how Daddy can make Scowpius feel better,” his son said, looking up at him.
“And how is that?” Draco’s lips twitched. A Malfoy through and through.
“Daddy can wead book Mini give,” Scorpius said smugly.
Draco sighed, going over to the bedside table pulling out the muggle book Granger had given his son. Much to Draco’s concern, Scorpius seemed to take a liking to the witch. From the beginning, Scorpius was always wary of people — much like his own father — who weren’t Draco or Narcissa. Hence, Scorpius’ obvious interest in Granger surprised him.
Despite his earlier accusations, Draco did not think that Granger would hurt his son. But there was something different about her now — she seemed subdued, a quiet calm and hardness to her. The energetic curiosity that sparkled in her eyes when they were kids had dimmed into something leashed, controlled, waiting .
When she came back that night when Scorpius had found her, she reeked of residual Dark Magic alongside her own magic. He could feel the potency of her magic, alive yet dormant — it felt like molten fire. His own magic had flared almost instinctively upon sensing hers. She was a threat.
“Daddy, Mini said that the book is called Gewdnight Mwoon! How come pictures in book not moving?” Draco pulled his son on to his lap, settling the book infront of him. He did his best to explain that muggle books didn’t move like his books in the Manor. And though he doubted Scorpius really understood what he was saying, his scrunched brow and look of concentration as Draco explained was too adorable for him to stop.
“ In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon — ” He paused as Scorpius giggled loudly. Draco shut his eyes and savored the sound.
***
A half dozen eggs, five cans of beans, one tin of mushroom soup, two slices of bread, no fruit. Hermione meticulously counted and organized the inventory of food in the kitchen. It calmed her, providing both a break and distraction from the weekly report of casualties and injuries she was pouring over. One carton of milk, an almost empty box of cereal, and full stock of meat and poultry. Something wasn’t right, she thought.
“Watson?”
Watson immediately popped into the kitchen from the living room where he had been going over sketches of pureblood manors where the Order suspected held prisoners.
“Ms. Granger has requested Watson?” Hermione had spent the better half of the year trying to convince him to call her ‘Hermione,’ but he refused — too informal despite his broken ties to servitude, no longer needing to call anyone ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’ again.
“The stock of meat is untouched, aside from what I’ve eaten here and there,” she said, still eyeing the inventory before closing the freezer.
“In fact, anything that would require cooking has remained untouched — ” Hermione’s eyes widened at the realization. “Watson, what have Malfoy and Scorpius been eating?”
“Watson only notices Malfoy and the young heir eat fruit, bread, and milk. Sometimes cereal. Watson has once seen Malfoy try to open a soup can, but give up with no wand and no understanding of how to use the muggle microwave.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck . Guilt weighed heavily in her stomach. Circe, no wonder she had noticed Malfoy getting skinny and gaunt. He hadn’t known how to cook, especially without a wand, and he wouldn’t dare use the muggle appliances. For almost an entire week . And Scorpius — shit .
“Last week Ms. Granger is saying to Malfoy he must prepare his own meals and tells Watson not to — ”
“Yes, I did Watson. It’s not your fault at all — I meant what I said, you’re not a slave. But this was my fault. If I hadn’t been so consumed… ” Hermione took a calming breath, using her wand to open up the cupboards and pull out the ingredients she needed.
Hermione was just finishing up plating three servings of Shepherd's pie when she heard giggling from the hallway. She had just turned around when Malfoy paused, going rigid upon seeing her in the kitchen.
He cleared his throat.
“We’ll just come back later,” he said as he began to turn around.
“No! Malfoy, wait!”
Draco turned back around, suspicion in his eyes but he remained silent. Scorpius squirmed in his arms, wanting to be let down.
“I made lunch,” she said hesitantly. “Enough for all of us.”
Malfoy remained rigid at the doorway, staring at her until Scorpius said he was hungry and slid down his arms. Scorpius ran directly to the kitchen table, crawling up excitedly on to the chair.
“Smells yummy!” he said while staring up at Hermione, almost as if waiting for her reaction.
Hermione smiled back fondly, bringing the plates over to the table and some glasses of orange juice with her wand.
“Thank you, Scorpius. It’s Shepherd's pie. Not only is there protein, but some veggies too.” Hermione almost laughed out loud at Scorpius’ look of terror at the word ‘veggies.’
“Don’t worry! You can barely taste it. Growing boys need their veggies to grow strong after all!” This seemed to change Scorpius’ mind as his eyes widened.
“I am a gwowing boy! Daddy says I will grow to be a strong big boy!” Scorpius looked at his father, whose expression softened. “Right, Daddy?”
“You’re right — but only if you eat your veggies,” he muttered, quickly glancing at Hermione, who took her seat at the table. When he remained unmoving, she arched an eyebrow in a challenge. His mouth pressed into a hard line before he crossed the room in long sides to take his seat beside Scorpius who already started to dig in with relish.
They ate in silence and Hermione tried not to notice how quickly Malfoy scarfed down his meal. Guilt ate up inside her and she silently summoned the entire baking dish of Shepherd's pie for second servings.
Hermione cleared her throat, hesitating. “Since I cook my own meals anyways, I figured I might as well make enough servings for us three,” she said as she avoided eye contact. From the corner of her eye she noticed him stiffen.
“That won’t be necessary — ”
“It would be more efficient since I would already be in the kitchen cooking. Anyways, all my recipes are meant for more than one person. It wouldn’t make a difference since it would require just an increased quantity of the same ingredients.” They stared at each other, she saw the pride warring in his face, but she held her ground.
“I’ll teach you the muggle appliances of course, it’s quite easy,” she started rambling before he could respond. “Yes, that would be a good idea especially when I’m gone for missions. But otherwise I should be able to cook something and even leave them…”
“Granger,” he began, his expression unreadable, “we don’t need your pity — ”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“ Eat , Malfoy,” she said before levitating her plates to the sink and casting a Cleaning Charm. She gave Scorpius a smile and Malfoy a silent nod before she left.
Notes:
It was just pointed out to me by someone who pre-read this chapter before posting that Hermione cooking for Draco was a similar situation that happened in Isolation by bex-chan! I didn’t realize the similarity until it was pointed out. Isolation is a brilliant fic that was one of the first Dhr fics I read a long while back, so I didn’t realize the similarity until it was pointed out! Nevertheless I wanted to just bring it up in case anyone was bothered by it and also pay homage to Isolation. If you haven’t read it it's definitely a classic!
Chapter Text
“I’m sorry to all the things
I’ve destroyed trying to
Rebuild myself.
I’m sorry to all the ones
I’ve left trying to
Find myself.
I’m sorry to all the hearts
I’ve broken trying to
Understand my own.”
— Kiana Azizian
Draco stood at the corner of the room, his features settled into a cool indifference as he ignored the glares of the Order members at the meeting. A part of him was glad that he left Scorpius with Watson instead of here, receiving murderous and disgusted looks. He was hesitant at first to leave his son with the grumpy old elf, but Granger had assured him that despite Watson’s disposition, he handled children well and in fact had helped care for the orphaned children left by the war. Watson had grumbled under his breath but didn’t contradict her statements. Scorpius, being curious and oddly partial to the creature that only sneered at him, had been surprisingly amenable with the idea.
With one last look at Scorpius babbling happily to the elf about his muggle book, Draco portkeyed with Granger to the Order headquarters.
Shacklebolt was currently going over the new information Granger collected from the Death Eater warehouse and hideout she infiltrated. The only reason he had been included in the meeting was to provide any more information. The meeting room they were at had one exit and about twenty witches and wizards, upper tier members of the Order. Only the twelve at the conference table were a potential threat. But he had no wand. All he had protecting him was Shacklebolt’s Unbreakable Vow that as long as Draco posed no threat and was compliant in giving truthful information to the best of his ability, Shacklebolt would ensure his and his son’s protection.
“ — as Granger has explained, Malfoy’s information has thus far been legitimate,” Mad-Eye Moody’s said throatily. His black beady eye stayed focused on the table while his other blue glass eye whizzed in Draco’s direction, bobbing before settling. Draco tried not to look uncomfortable and shifted his gaze towards Granger, who stoically avoided Ginny Weasley’s concerned gaze. Interesting.
The moment Granger and he landed at headquarters, he had expected her to go off running with her friends. Curiously, Gryffindor’s Princess seemed to go rigid at the sight of female Weasley and her posse — one of the Patil twins, Cho Chang, and others he vaguely recognized. And Loony Lovegood of course, trailing behind them with that dazed disposition that had always disturbed him.
Granger had put on a strained smile when they hugged her, indulging their hushed talk for only a moment before she made the excuse that she had to prepare for the meeting and bring him in. Their expressions faltered before a worried and pitying look overcame them. But she was gone before they could say anything.
“We've been successful in infiltrating a couple of labs, but are still unsure of the Dark Lord’s larger plans,” Shacklebolt began. “He has been searching for Dark Artifacts to use in his experiments but we don’t know what they are. We’ve been focusing our efforts into trying to pinpoint what sort of weapon or — ”
“Children.” All eyes turned in surprise towards Draco.
“Pardon?”
“The Dark Lord,” Draco said as he dusted his shirt, “his plan involves children. I’m not sure what his exact plans are as I wasn’t privy to some of them but I have a strong suspicion it involves children.”
There were several gasps around the room before Shacklebolt raised his hand for them to simmer down.
“And what makes you think it involves children?” the man asked.
“Four months after the Battle of Hogwarts us purebloods were required to produce heirs. For those still unwed, we were matched — with other purebloods of course — then wed with the expectation of producing an heir immediately.” Draco shrugged nonchalantly then crossed his arms to hide the tremors in his fingertips.
“We weren’t told much except that the Dark Lord wanted to increase the pureblood population — more power he said.” Draco smiled grimly. “Curious things happened after a couple of pureblood babies were born, however…”
“What things?” Granger asked.
“The pureblood babies began disappearing.” Draco watched the horror wash over many faces. “The parent’s of the children wouldn’t talk about it. But I suspect it had something to do with the Dark Lord… ”
“And you didn’t think to divulge this sooner, Malfoy?” Ah, the Weaslette . Draco wondered where her entire brood of brothers were. He’d seen the older ones who weren’t in Hogwarts throughout the years during raids when he was still a Death Eater.
“Well, Weasley, I wasn’t keen on revealing everything immediately given I was walking in here wandless. I needed guarantees.”
“Kingsley said you made an Unbreakable Vo — ”
“I did,” he smirked. “For information that is truthful to the best of my abilities. Like I said earlier, this was just my suspicion.”
“A fucking snake through and through,” some Gryffindor snarled along with others calling him a Death Eater.
Draco simply met Granger’s calculating brown eyes. She lifted a brow and he shrugged, leaning back against the wall.
“ Enough. ” Shacklebolt shot sparks from his wand. He rubbed his head and sighed. “Malfoy’s behavior has been compliant so far and he is right, it’s speculation but it’s useful information. We’ll use this lead. Now, Granger, if you would — ”
***
Hermione took her time packing up the scrolls into her beaded bag, pretending to ignore the lingering looks targeted towards her and Malfoy who were the last ones in the room. She was thankful for the silence between them as they exited, needing to sort through her mental checklist of things she needed to get done. Her mind was overwhelmed with his revelation. Children . Fuck . There were no boundaries the Dark Lord wouldn’t cross for power, nothing he —
“Mione?”
“Ginny, hey,” Hermione responded, blinking up at her. Every time Hermione saw Ginny, she was always taken aback by the shock of red hair that triggered an onslaught of childhood memories within her. It was short now, however — pixie cut. It suited her. Weasley hair always reminded her of autumn leaves, spices, and Molly’s pumpkin pasties. She used to savor that reminder, letting it fuel her hopes for a future that seemed almost tangible, a future where things could go back to the way they were. But now these reminders felt as if they taunted her, shoving it in her face that even if things miraculously did go to some semblance of normalcy, she was changed.
“Can we talk?” There was concern in Ginny’s warm eyes. Hermione tried, fucking tried not to let the almost patornizing look trigger her to lash out unfairly.
“I best be getting back with Malfoy, I can’t leave him alone — ”
“It’ll be quick! We can speak on the back porch — Malfoy can stay on the other end. We’ll have enough privacy.” Before Hermione could respond, Ginny pulled her outdoors, Malfoy stoically trailing behind them.
Once secluded on one corner of the porch, Malfoy sitting on the railings on the other end and a Silencing Charm cast around them, Hermione took a steadying breath and waited for Ginny to begin.
“Hermione, how are you? Like really?” Ginny said as she put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She flinched slightly at the contact.
Hermione gave Ginny an apologetic look and sighed.
“I’m – I’m surviving, Gin,” she shrugged. “It’s war. I suppose right now things could be better, but they could be a lot worse too.”
“You know I’m always here for you right? We’re all here for you — me, Seamus, Cho, even Luna in her own quirky way.”
Hermione managed a weak smile. They’d had this conversation multiple times, but there were just some things Ginny and the others couldn’t understand. Hermione had learned a long time ago that despite how much others tried to understand you or comfort you, despite how much you wanted them to, there were just things they would never truly comprehend, wounds they would never be able to soothe.
Hermione had tried, honestly tried to open up to Ginny and the others about Ron, Harry, her parents. She had sat with them into the late hours, cups of coffee wafting with hints of cheap muggle whiskey, trembling fingers and bloodshot eyes as they talked about their feelings and traumas. They kept reminding each other that it was okay and that they weren’t alone. But Hermione had never felt more alone than she had sitting in a room full of people who also didn’t know the right words to say except I’m sorry and you don’t deserve this .
She had wanted to scream and just be fucking angry. It wasn’t fucking fair and gods she had felt selfish. They didn’t understand that she felt so abandoned and angry. She couldn’t sit there acting like it wouldn’t get worse. She couldn't sit there pretending that deep down, part of her believed that she deserved some of it.
“I’m doing better, Ginny,” Hermione smiled tentatively. Some days she was honestly fine, other days she couldn’t remember what being fine even felt like. “It comes and goes, but I’m managing. You all have your own things to worry about — I’ll be fine. You know I always manage.”
“Mione I know but we’re in this together. All of us.”
Hermione watched the light drizzle of rain catch then trickle tentatively from the roof. The wind picked up in a soft howl as the leaves shuddered. She didn’t have the energy to pretend. The concept of going through tough things with other people, with friends, to help with the burden was a core idea in her youth — Harry, Ron, Hermione, always . But there were some paths one walked alone, paths where others could not follow.
Whenever she visited the headquarters or saw them, her old friends, it was like she was a stranger watching behind glass. When she saw them laugh, reminisce on happy memories, and focus on the positive moments, it was like she was an intruder. They celebrated the small victories and, in some ways, seeing what was left of her friends be happy had made her happy. But it wasn’t the kind of happiness that was vicarious — it was a melancholic happiness, as if she was watching a happy memory, but she was too detached from it to feel present. It wasn’t her friends’ fault, because they tried to include her — they truly did. But any hope or happiness she felt or could not feel was eclipsed by the war and death around her, by all the sacrifices they’ve had to make, and continued making, for a future that seemed further and further from their grasp. And all she could do was watch behind the glass, trying to smile when a numbness overcame her.
Hermione took Ginny’s hand and squeezed, letting the illusion live a little longer.
***
The hallway was cold and damp as Hermione crept through the abandoned Death Eater lab. Her lumos illuminated the steel walls, catching the trickle of murky water from the pipes. The True Order had successfully ambushed the place the night prior and Hermione had been sent to examine the remains alone. Though she was guaranteed it was free of Death Eater occupants, she kept her guard up for any traps or cursed objects.
Hermione continued in silence, furrowing her brow when she was met once again with the same puddle of water formed by a leak. She realized she had been walking in circles. The darkness lay behind and before her, and even with a lumos maxima she could spot no end and no beginning.
She took a calming breath, pushing away her panic and letting her mind deconstruct the puzzle before her into facts and patterns. All things had a pattern, in both magic and nature. There was an order to life that Hermione found comfort in, knowing that for all the vastness of the world and the universe, they could be broken down and explained by patterns, theories, and logical assumptions. Even when they deviated, they simply became another iteration of the pattern.
Hermione’s heartbeat slowed to the rhythm of the water drops dripping, recounting what she had observed. She recalled that she had walked about 50 meters before she saw the puddle again. But, aside from the puddle, she was constantly surrounded by the same darkened steel walls, the clink of water dripping resounding throughout.
Hermione crouched in front of the puddle, staring at her murky reflection. Suddenly, the water began to spread into hundreds of droplets, forming a phrase.
Silence can only be found when one can walk into the darkness with their eyes wide open.
Hermione murmured the words and looked at her wand. The phrase suddenly clicked and she straightened. She flicked her wand to end the lumos and immediately the darkness crawled in like a million spiders. Hermione tried to keep her breathing steady. She forced her eyes open and kept her focus on the sound of water dripping.
She began walking into the endless darkness, fighting a shiver and the urge to cast a light. After a while, the clink of the water drops faded into silence. Reaching forward tentatively, her fingers met damp wood. A door. Hermione released a shaky breath and reached out for the knob and turned it.
The room was cold. Moonlight poured in from the gridded windows that she didn’t remember seeing in the sketch of the house. They must have been magical ones, she thought.
After dismantling a couple of wards and checking for more cursed traps, Hermione cast a spell to light two sconces. Her suspicions had been right that this was the main lab. Parchment was scattered as well as cauldrons, vials, and sets of tools that looked similar to muggle surgical instruments. At the end of the room, however, were long slabs covered in white sheets that seemed to billow even though there was no draft in the room.
Hermione approached the tables, counting four in total. She approached the middle one and lifted the sheet. Immediately, she dropped the fabric and recoiled in horror. It was a body but there was something horribly wrong with it. The moonlight illuminated the body’s pale features, the effect only highlighting the stark black veins that sprawled almost delicately over the victim’s face. It was a young man, mouth open in shock, eyes a milky white, and bloated as if he had been drowned.
Hermione exhaled from her trembling lips and watched a white cloud of mist form. It couldn’t possibly be…
She moved closer to the body and examined its cracked lips — pale and bloodless. The air around the body tasted acrid with decay and what almost felt like fear. A small chain and pendant around the man’s neck drew her attention. Upon further inspection she noticed that it was laced with frost.
Immediately she knew. She couldn’t place what kind of experimentation had been done to cause the black veins, but she knew that these bodies had received the Dementor’s Kiss.
***
Despite the two days that had passed, Hermione could not get the milky soulless eyes out of her mind. She had hauled herself up in her room with books and scrolls on Dementors from the little that was left of the Order’s archives — mostly sourced from personal collections of True Order members.
She mostly didn’t sleep, her dreams plagued by images of that mission. The information was in these books somewhere, it always was. If only she could put the pieces together.
The morning after her mission, Malfoy had paused upon seeing her gaunt face, eyeing her disheveled state. His body had filled out with the proper meals and a healthier color tinted his cheeks. She had simply nodded and left the room.
Since then, she kept her distance from him. She had caught brief glances of him however in the library. The first time, she saw him, brows furrowed as he examined the muggle books, sneering in haughty superiority. The second time she found him leafing through a copy of one of Austen’s works, rolling his eyes. She was almost tempted to barge in and go on a tirade about muggle literature like the Hermione at Hogwarts would have done, but she was not that girl anymore.
After hours of unsuccessful research, Hermione walked into the library, eager for a novel to give her some form of escapism. She paused, however, at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting on the old ottoman, legs sprawled nonchalantly. His long fingers languidly caressed each page before turning them, his pale brows furrowing in concentration as he read what looked like a novel by… Edgar Allan Poe ?
Hermione gaped, mouth opening and closing, suppressing the urge to talk about the book with him. It had been a while since she'd been able to indulge in a conversation about literature. Well, even during her time at Hogwarts, she never got a chance to talk much about books. She had tried with the Ravenclaws but many had not cared much for fiction and those that did tended to have discussions composed of heated analytical debates and arguments. Although Hermione eventually realized and understood that this was just borne out of their thirst to expand their knowledge, she had found it exhausting and felt that it took the joy out of reading.
“Did someone finally silencio that mouth of yours, Granger? Or hit you with a half-arsed trout curse? If so I’d have to thank them,” Malfoy said without looking up.
Hermione clamped her mouth shut and glared at him when he looked up. She ignored the self-satisfaction in his pale eyes, almost as clear as glass against the early afternoon light. Hermione lifted her chin, blindly pulling a title from the shelves.
“Just surprised to see you with muggle literature,” she huffed, taking a seat on the couch furthest away from him.
“Unfortunately, the selection here is quite limited,” he said, clucking his tongue. He turned the book onto its cover. “Poe is it?” he drawled and Hermione’s fingers twitched. “The characters in this short story collection are completely mad. Not a single thing makes sense.”
Hermione inhaled deeply, trying to control herself. She wouldn’t give in. She schooled her features into indifference and continued reading. From her periphery, she noticed Malfoy lift his head at her lack of response.
“No swotty comeback? I’m surprised.”
“I’m not in the mood, Malfoy.” Draco Malfoy was an equation she had yet to break. He was a mystery that she had a hard time reducing to a fixed logical profile using what she knew of the boy she grew up with at Hogwarts, the Death Eater in the papers, and the man she sometimes caught reading to his son.
There was a moment of silence, then suddenly he spoke up in that arrogant voice he used so often at school.
“I suppose that wouldn’t be a surprise given that surely even you would admit that muggle literature is obviously below standards,” he said casually. “I mean who wouldn’t fall asleep from these ridiculously contrived prose — ”
Hermione bristled and before she knew it she went on an entire lecture about the context of Poe’s work and his role in muggle literature. And he had the audacity to look more and more smug as she cited quotes, highlighted his influences on society at large, and succinctly deconstructed the themes alluded to in his work.
“ — you can’t judge works beyond the standards of their time! Poe had a heavy influence on literature. In fact , many writers from the Wizarding World have admitted on many occasions that they had been influenced by Poe’s work!”
“Still, even you have to admit that his stories are quite vague about the presence of these supernatural elements he describes. Quite unconvincing too. In ‘Ligeia,’ it remains uncertain if the corpse bride truly comes to life or if it's all in the man’s mind — ”
“Exactly! Exactly !” Hermione yelled triumphantly. “Early Gothic Literature, such as Polidori and Shelley’s work, portray the threat of physical danger and the horrors of the external world, particularly from beings such as vampires and monsters. Poe on the other hand suggests that perhaps what is more terrifying than monsters, vampires, and ghosts is the human mind: madness , insanity . Accordingly, this — ”
Despite the smug look on his face, he still seemed to be following her every word which started to make her feel even more flustered and riled up.
“ — the point is, Malfoy, that you cannot make rash judgements on a piece of literature without keeping an open mind and properly absorbing it or even seeing it in the larger scheme of things — ”
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“ — You read, no skim , Edgar Allan Poe once and you think — ”
Hermione went to continue but he cut her off.
“There she is,” he smirked as he stood up.
“I – excuse me? What — ” Hermione sputtered mid rant.
“Welcome back, Granger,” he said without turning back to her as he strode out of the room. Hermione blinked owlishly at his back, only then noticing her heart thrumming with adrenaline. For a fleeting moment she almost felt as if she were back in Hogwarts with that same excitement to, not show off, but share her knowledge about something she was passionate about. But as quickly as the feeling came, it left when she remembered that she was not at Hogwarts anymore. Nevertheless, she found it a little easier to push her dark thoughts away and so she turned back to her book.
***
Hermione entered the kitchen after giving Watson her research report for Kingsley.
“Mini!” Scorpius said, his mouth stained with orange sauce from the beef stew she had left under a stasis charm. Malfoy briefly paused from wiping Scorpius’ face, glancing at her and nodding before resuming his task.
“Hello, Scorpius.” Hermione smiled warmly at him before taking a bowl from the cupboard and serving herself a helping of the stew.
“How is the food?” she asked while taking a seat at the kitchen table.
“Is yummy!” Scorpius responded, a mouthful of what looked like carrots muffling his voice.
Malfoy frowned at his son, whose cheeky smile remained undeterred.
“Scorpius, what did I say about speaking with food in your mouth?”
“Oops,” he said with a dimpled smile, looking shyly up at Hermione.
“It’s alright,” Hermione said with a laugh. “I actually have a small treat for you.”
The little boy’s eyes widened, squirming in his seat while simultaneously ignoring the spoon Malfoy held to his lips.
From her beaded bag, Hermione pulled out a little paper package with chocolates inside and held them out to Scorpius. Hermione laughed in surprise when the little tyke snatched a piece with a squeal of delight, bringing it directly to his mouth.
“Scorpius, no ,” his father said, quickly grabbing his chubby little hand. “You already know no sweets allowed until you’ve had a proper meal.”
“But daddy!” He pouted adorably, unaffected by Malfoy’s stern gaze. “I ate so many!”
“One more bite,” Malfoy sighed in defeat. “And only one piece of chocolate.”
“Thwee!”
“ Scorpius ,” Malfoy said in warning as Hermione tried to stifle her smile.
“If daddy let Scowpius have thwee , Scowpius will be a good boy during bath time,” the little boy said with a very Malfoy-smugness on his face. His father let out a strangled sound at his son’s proposal. Hermione snickered as she took another bite of her stew. Malfoy glared at her before returning to negotiations with his son.
“ Two ,” he said with gritted teeth. “Two chocolates and you will be a good boy for bath time and have two more bites of your meal… with vegetables.”
Scorpius pondered the offer, brows pinching together.
“No veggies.”
“Fine,” Draco agreed with reluctance but after a moment his features softened at Scorpius’ sound of triumph.
“Good job, Scorpius,” Hermione chuckled, unable to stop herself from commenting. Scorpius preened at the praise.
“Don’t encourage him, Granger,” Malfoy grumbled with a hard look but she caught his lips twitching upwards almost imperceptibly. She only smirked back at him then winked at Scorpius before returning to her meal.
Notes:
So of course when I'm supposed to be busy with getting things done for moving AND preparing for my interview tomorrow, I derail my schedule to edit and post this chapter 😅 I'm also on instagram (@cz_bl) if you want to connect, get updates, and enjoy some Dhr memes and other content. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Text
“You need to reach down and touch the thing that’s boiling inside of you
and make it somehow useful.”
— Audre Lorde
“ Mini ! Mini!” Hermione bolted upright to find a small figure sobbing and shaking her shoulder.
“Scorpius?” she said as she slipped off her bed and crouched before him. His face was scrunched up and blotchy, tears running in silver rivlets down his face. She immediately pulled him close, drawing her wand. “What’s wrong?”
“Daddy,” he sobbed, clutching her closer, “daddy is hav – is having bad dream.”
Hermione relaxed and rubbed circles on his back to calm him.
“It’s okay, he’ll be okay,” she murmured softly. “Let’s go help him, alright?”
Scorpius nodded but didn’t let her go so she scooped him up in one arm and made her way to Malfoy’s room. Hermione whispered in Scorpius’ ear, trying to soothe him. His crying subsided but he still sniffled and trembled.
“We’ll help your daddy. He will be okay, I promise.” They entered the room, the door already ajar. On the bed, Malfoy thrashed wildly upon the sheets. Hermione cursed and waved her wand to light the lamp on the bedside.
“ No! No! ” he rasped hoarsely, flinging the sheets, his face strained and beaded with sweat. Scorpius started sobbing again, incoherently begging Mini help, Mini help, Mini help .
“Malfoy! Malfoy wake up!” Hermione called out after putting Scorpius down and going to his father’s side. The golden lamp light shone on his sweaty torso, illuminating his contorted face, eyes rolled back.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything, please — ”
“Draco!” Hermione shouted, holding his thrashing head in place. Scorpius clung tightly to her leg, his crying getting louder.
Suddenly, Malfoy’s eyes snapped open as he bolted upright, almost knocking Hermione’s head at the suddenness.
“Where – fuck – I — ” His eyes were wide and frightened as he searched the room. “ Scorpius! ”
“Daddy!” Scorpius wailed as he climbed on the bed and clutched his father around his neck.
“Scorpius,” he repeated, inhaling the scent of his son and soothing his sobs. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m so sorry — ”
Malfoy went rigid, his head snapping up at the sound of Hermione’s exhale.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?” he seethed, his eyes immediately guarded. Hermione’s eyes narrowed in return and she lifted her chin.
“Scorpius came to me — ”
“Don’t give me that fucking look,” he growled.
“What look ? What’s wrong with you! I was just helping!”
“Oh please! That look that screams that you think that you’re so much better than everybody!” He didn’t let her reply. “Are you waiting for thanks? For helping the poor Death Eater? Because you’re so much better with your bloody Gryffindor heart,” he spat.
“Get the fuck over yourself, Malfoy! I refuse to be a target of your little tantrum — ”
“Tantrum?” Draco laughed coldly. “Fucking classic. You think just because you’ve been on the side of ‘goodness and righteousness,’ no one else, especially those on the other side have been suffering too from this war? Running around gathering information, not even on the front lines — tell me Granger, we haven’t crossed paths on the battlefield over these past few years. Were you hiding in your safehouse with all your books and information while your own friends died — ”
“ Fuck you, Malfoy! Fuck you — ” How dare he, she seethed. How dare he imply that she just stood around while the world fell apart, while her friends died. She had given so much to a war that asked her to keep paying and paying until all that was left of her was a husk of who she once was.
“You think you know hardship, but I don’t think you do. Get off your fucking high horse, Granger — ”
Hermione opened her mouth to retort her, blood boiling in her veins, but she stopped when she heard a whimper. She immediately looked at the little boy shaking in Malfoy’s arms. Shit .
“Fuck — Scorpius, I’m sorry,” Malfoy said, noticing the child as well. He pulled the sobbing boy closer, murmuring his apologies. Hermione swallowed, instinctively stepping forward to comfort him but stopped when Malfoy glared at her.
Hermione returned it. She shook her head, letting a soft apology for Scorpius leave her lips before she pivoted and left the room without looking back.
***
It had been a week since Granger found him in the middle of his nightmare — a shivering mess, eyes unfocused and unseeing as ruby eyes burned beneath his eyelids. He had tried hard to make sure his son never found him in that state but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t control it. At least back in the manor, a Calming Draught or the occasional Dreamless Sleep potion had kept the dreams at bay, but without them, they were back in full force.
His past haunted him — he could still fill the tremors from the cruciatus curse , the cold scales of Nigini’s body wrapping around his torso, around his neck as he tried not to cower in front of the boy he hated at school. The boy he called ‘Master.’ And seeing Granger there when he woke — her judgemental and haughty look — had threatened the tight leash he kept over his emotions. Without his occlumency walls in place, he already felt so reduced and vulnerable and to have her there at his lowest, judging him, he couldn’t help but attack.
Draco sighed, curling his arm around Scorpius tighter as the morning sunlight crept up his arm. The golden sunlight burned brightly, but he could feel no warmth.
What was worse was realizing Scorpius ran to her because he was scared . So scared of his own father that he ran to Hermione fucking Granger for comfort. Bile rose in his throat — it all hit too close to home, his own fear of his father as a child.
Draco inhaled, calming the turbulent waves in his mind.
“Again,” Severus’ drawling voice echoed off the walls of the cellar before a sharp pain pierced into Draco’s mind again. His eyes rolled backwards and he tried to block the onslaught of memories Severus was pulling.
“You haven’t been practicing desensitization like I requested.”
There was disappointment in his mentor’s voice as the room came back into focus. The dim light pulsed, casting the dark stoned floor in a luminescent green from where he knelt. Draco swallowed, his head throbbing.
“I did,” he rasped. “But once I let the memories in, I can’t stop it.”
“Walls are not enough,” Severus said, carelessly tossing him a bottle of pepper-up potion. “Your Occlumency walls are weak. The purpose of compartmentalization isn’t simply to block out certain memories and emotions, but to control how we confront them. When you are afraid of what is behind the walls, you will never truly be able to hold them back.”
Draco managed to lift his head properly after the cool vial left his parched lips and energy returned to his body. He stared at the man’s impassive face, black eyes gleaming darkly in the dying light. Unyielding, calm, controlled. This was the man who was able to elude the Dark Lord for so long.
“He – he will be expecting results. I don’t have enough time when he comes — ”
“Fail or succeed, what matters more is your ability to face him,” Severus said, exasperated. “But you cannot face someone and expect to conquer and deceive them when you have not yet conquered yourself. Begin with the basics. Build a foundation for your mind using your magic.”
Draco shut his eyes, regulating his breathing in a kind of meditation.
“Detach yourself from all earthly things.” The voice surrounded Draco, everywhere and nowhere. “Detach yourself from all sense of self, all sense of being. Follow the call of your magic.”
The world fell away as Draco descended into his own mind.
“Now, what do you see?”
“There is a meadow with long grass bending in the breeze…” he began, “and a manor with many doors.”
“Tell me about the doors.”
“Each is different. Some large, some small, some made out of wood, some made of metal.” Draco let himself wander through the halls, passing doors of every kind, some inviting, some not. He stopped. “And there is a black door. Larger than the others. A door that has been here before the manor… before the meadow.”
“Good,” Severus’ voice echoed. “And what is behind the doors?”
The door before Draco rattled. It was as if it had its own pulse. It was alive.
“Terrible things,” he whispered. From behind the door he heard screams, angry voices, hissing, a girl screaming, a witch’s cackle. “I need to seal it, I need to shut it out —”
In seconds, chains and metal grids sealed the door. Vaguely, Draco felt the presence of Severus’ in his mind, this time observing.
“Good,” his mentor murmured again. “These are strong. But everyday, I want you to meditate and linger around the doors, particularly the sealed ones that hold what haunt you the most. To truly master Occlumency, you must not suppress your emotions and memories because more and more you become ruled by them. That is the risk and mistake of those who compartmentalize without exposing themselves little by little to what haunts them. Begin by securing these doors. Once you’ve gained significant distance from the event, the memory, sit before the sealed doors, then try to open them and look, but do not enter. Keep the memories at bay, under control, keep them distant. Try to expose yourself to your emotions, to your memories until it no longer has power over you. Desensitize yourself. And in doing this you will master true control.”
Draco continued breathing, observing each door in every hallway. Music sounded from one, another with the laughter of a child. One room with an open wooden door contained a broom and the memory of flying, while another held a cabinet and the other a dead body.
“When the Dark Lord enters your mind, select which doors to open, and which to close. You will be able to deceive him and you will have mastery over what haunts you should those doors crumble. It is detrimental to suppress your emotions. You must learn to live with them, live with what you’ve done, and who you’ve become.”
Draco’s heart beat slowly, the manor of his mind solidifying its walls, obeying his wishes. He could feel it now, the surrender to a pleasant numbness that was almost addicting if he wasn’t careful.
“Daddy…” Scorpius whimpered and started shaking, bringing Draco back from his memory.
“Scorp? Scorpius?” Draco said as he looked over at his son. His eyes were shut, faintly trembling yet his skin was burning up. Shit . “Scorpius, what’s wrong?”
Draco’s heart raced as his son continued to whimper and thrash, calling out for his father.
“It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll take care of you,” Draco said, gritting his teeth in frustration upon remembering he had no wand. He quickly made his way to the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet behind the mirror. Nothing .
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Daddy?” Scorpius called out again upon realizing he was alone. “Am cold, so cold.”
“I’m back — just hold on okay? I’ll get help.” Draco wrapped his son in a bundle of blankets and protectively clutched him to his chest. Fuck, where was Granger? He gritted his teeth, remembering their fight. He would beg if he had to.
“Granger!” he bellowed through the hallways.
“Malfoy?” she replied, suspicion laced in her words as she exited the kitchen.
“It’s Scorpius. There’s something wrong, he – he’s burning up. I – he’s — ”
“Slowdown,” she said steadily. “Let’s get him on the bed, yeah?” Her concerned eyes flashed to Scorpius but she remained calm. Draco nodded, leading her to the room.
“Scorpius dear, can you hear me?” Hermione said as he put Scorpius on the bed, unwrapping his blankets. Scorpius only moaned weakly in response when she put her hand on his forehead and cursed.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
Hermione didn’t respond and instead pulled out her wand. Draco almost reacted to disarm her but stopped himself and let her cast a diagnostic charm. Tendrils of light swirled above Scorpius’ little body, glowing yellow then deepening into a burnt orange.
“He’ll be fine,” she said, tension leaving her shoulders. “It’s just a fever.”
“He’s in pain, Granger!” He knew fevers weren’t so bad — he could brew a potion for it. But he was wandless and basically a prisoner, and his son was writhing in pain .
“I’ll go to the Order’s ward,” Hermione said as Scorpius attempted to open his eyes but ended up tightly shutting them.
“I’m going.”
“Malfoy, I don’t think — ”
“He’s my son! I’m not taking any risks. I’m not letting him intake anything blindly — that’s even if the Order deigns to release the proper mediation,” he said, eyes dangerous, challenging her to disagree.
“Fine,” Hermione relented. Immediately, she called Watson who appeared moments later with a pop . “Watson, I’m sorry to bother you but I need you to watch Scorpius for a while — he’s sick. Malfoy and I will be gone for a bit to grab some medicine.”
Watson looked at Draco suspiciously, then to Scorpius and grunted.
“Watson will take care of the child. Watson knows sick children,” he said roughly as he conjured a damp rag and put it on Scorpius’ head. Scorpius relaxed for a moment, cracking his eyes open.
“Mini?” He gave her a weak smile.
“Hello, darling. Your daddy and I will be gone really quick to get some things to make you feel better,” Hermione said as she caressed his cheek. “You remember Watson right? The nice elf who took care of you last time?”
“Watsy?” Scorpius said hoarsely, eyes searching for the elf. The elf in question made a huffing sound, scrunching his leathery face in a grimace.
“Yes,” she chuckled. “Watsy will be right here. Just take a nap, okay? We will be back when you wake.”
Scorpius softly nodded, shutting his eyes. Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips to his son’s forehead. Then, he turned to Granger and followed her out the room.
***
“What the fuck do you mean my son’s illness is not high enough a priority!” Draco snapped at the impassive face of the healer.
“It means that we’re in the middle of a war and therefore wasting our depleting resources on a fever that will eventually pass without any potions — ”
“Malfoy!” Hermione gripped his arm that had banged on the healer’s desk, sending quills flying to the ground. The healer looked up at him with a stern and indifferent face, her murky eyes unfazed. “She’s right — ”
“The fuck, Granger!”
“ — let me finish . She’s right, our resources are depleted but I won't let Scorpius suffer either.” Hermione glanced at the healer and nodded, her grip tightening on him as she pulled him away. “We’ll treat him with another kind of medication. You might not like it but it works, you just have to keep an open mind — ”
“What method?” he asked, his jaw clenching tightly. He was so close to losing his control, so sick of feeling powerless. Before he could repeat his question, he felt a tug on his navel followed by the disorienting pull of Apparition.
Upon getting his bearings, Draco noticed he was in an alleyway — brick walls cast in half shadow, half in morning light. A damp smell assaulted his nostrils and loud noises blared from the streets.
“Where are we?” Instead of answering, she pulled him out of the alley. Immediately, he tried to place his surroundings as what he recognized as muggle vehicles zoomed by. Soon they stopped in front of a shop. Granger wouldn’t —
“Muggle medicine,” she whispered discreetly. She ushered him into a kind of apothecary that held rows of white shelves that held packaged items in organized boxes. It was oddly different from wizarding apothecaries that displayed different substances — crushed asphodel, colorful liquids and gasses, and dried roots in numerous bottles on the shelves. Merlin, everything here was white. And the smell — a foreign putrid scent that assaulted his nose.
“This is a pharmacy. Much like an apothecary. They sell muggle medicine — ”
“I’m not giving my son muggle medicine — ”
“Malfoy! Do you want him to get better or not? Trust me — my parents used muggle medicine when I was a child. It’s completely harmless.”
Draco clenched his jaw but nodded his head tersely. Hermione relaxed and pulled him to the counter where she placed an order for what looked like pills and bottled potions. After discussing dosage amounts with the shopkeeper, they returned to the alley.
“Okay, I have some leftovers at home that I’ll heat up really quick so Scorpius won't take his medicine on an empty stomach — ”
The clouds suddenly darkened as a shadow fell over the alley. Draco tensed.
“Granger… ”
Before she could speak, two figures soundlessly appeared before them. Hermione drew her wand, stepping in front of him. Draco curled his hands into fists as he caught sight of familiar silver masks.
“Well if it isn’t the blood traitor,” one of them hissed.
“What’s this? Draco Malfoy and the mudblood ?” the other spat. “The Dark Lord will be pleased.”
Hermione cast a shield as the Death Eaters hurled curses their way. Her arms trembled from the effort while she told Draco to stay back.
“Where’s that little brat of yours, Malfoy? A coward like his father?” Draco stiffened, eyes hardening with predatory focus. Taking advantage of their focus on Hermione’s protego, he leapt from the side of the shield and attacked them before she could protest.
He caught them off guard, immediately going for the shoulder of the one who made the comment, dislocating his wand arm with a sharp pop .
“ Expelliarmus !”
After Hermione disarmed the other, Draco swung his legs to sweep the attacker off his feet, simultaneously dodging an agonized swipe towards his head by the first Death Eater. Draco recovered his balance, moving with a lithe efficiency as he swung his fist upward towards the Death Eater. There was a resounding crack as the Death Eater’s head snapped backwards.
Instinctively, Draco pivoted, preparing for the other Death Eater but found him stupefied on the ground, Hermione Granger’s hard brown eyes staring coldly at the body beneath her.
“ Stupefy !” Draco flinched, staring at her wand tip mere inches from his face. A body thumped behind him.
“Better keep your guard up, Malfoy,” Hermione lightly reprimanded breathlessly. Dropping her arm, she took the wands of the fallen Death Eaters. Draco watched as she conjured a patronus — a silver otter — to send a message to Kingsley.
Once a dispatch team from the Order appeared on site, they Apparated the bodies away to be taken as prisoners.
“ — Malfoy?” Draco looked at the witch who watched him with evident curiosity. “Kings has everything handled. Let’s get back to Scorpius, yeah?”
Draco nodded, taking her arm as she Apparated them back to the safehouse.
***
Draco released a breath when they returned to the foyer. The familiar smell of oakwood, parchment, and citrus calmed him. He immediately sought out his son as Granger mumbled something about food.
When he entered the room, Draco relaxed upon seeing his son still asleep. However, upon closer inspection, he saw that his eyes were tightly shut, his rosy lips puckered as he murmured incoherently. Draco gently brushed his fine pale locks away from his face, whispering assurances in his ear.
“The young Malfoy is still not good. He sleeps, but Watson sees his fever is not better.” Draco looked over at Watson, mouth hardening in a line at the news. He thanked Watson quietly before the elf left to get back to his duties.
Not long after, Granger bustled in with a small bowl of soup in her hands, a tray with two larger bowls, bread, and glasses of water floating behind her. She sat on the other side of Scorpius, the other bowls settled on a table she had conjured nearby.
“Can he sit up?” Granged asked as she felt his son’s forehead.
“Scorp?” Draco said, urging him upwards. The usually energetic boy was limp in his arms, his eyes dazed although he nodded weakly.
Draco propped Scorpius up with a pillow behind him as Hermione blew softly on a spoon of soup.
“Can you open wide for me, Scorpius?” Hermione coaxed as she brought the broth to his lips. “There we go. Just a little bit more and we’re going to give you some medicine to make you feel better okay?”
“Kay,” he said weakly, zoning in and out as he swallowed more soup. After he had a few more spoonfuls, a bit of bread, and the muggle medicine finally in his system, Hermione and Draco let him doze off.
They sat in silence for a moment with their own meals, watching the soft rise and fall of Scorpius’ chest. Much to Draco’s relief, he looked more relaxed — his brows no longer furrowed, nor his head thrashing.
“Someone’s here,” Hermione straightened upon feeling the wards let someone in.
“Granger? Malfoy?” It was Kingsley. They both got up, running into Kingsley just outside the door. They all filed into the hallway, Draco leaving the door ajar.
“Kings, is something wrong?”
“We’ve taken the prisoners into questioning and they’ve confirmed what we’ve been suspecting for a while — Death Eaters have been monitoring common Apparition points to get into Muggle London, hence how they found you. We’re extracting more information but I wanted to deliver some information on a decision that Moody and I have agreed upon.”
The large man reached into his robes and pulled out a wand. Instinctively Draco reached forward, his magic awakening and calling out for his wand.
“Given Malfoy’s good behavior and recent display with the Death Eaters, we’ve decided to give his wand back. But , with some limitations,” he said, keeping the wand in his grasp. “The wand will be monitored and checked weekly by Hermione. As much as possible, defensive spells only unless in extreme situations such as in attacks.”
Draco had to fight the sneer crawling across his face at the idea of being monitored.
“Oh and one more thing before I hand it over.” Kingsley gave him an assessing look. “We’ll start you on a few low level missions. But to keep you in line and monitor your behavior, we thought it best to give you a partner. Luckily Ms. Granger here is without one at the moment.”
“What!” Granger protested as Kingsley sighed, clearly expecting the outburst. “This was not discussed — ”
“The Dark Lord is up to something, Hermione. Something big. Today’s attack was proof that you will need a partner. We can’t afford any surprises or casualties. And ,” he continued, “we need all the manpower we can find.”
Kingsley’s tone brokered no argument and Granger clenched her jaw and nodded in consent.
“Good,” Kingsley said, an evident tiredness washing over him. He handed Draco his wand.
As Kingsley and Granger went off to speak further, Draco felt his magic flare, ebbing and flowing as he wrapped his fingers around the slim hawthorn wood. His magic thrummed through his veins, calling to him in a warm welcome. He shut his eyes, surrendering to the pull and release of his magic.
Notes:
A/N: I’m back! I’ve mostly settled into my new place so I should be on schedule for updating on weekends :) I’m just uploading now because I have things to do this weekend, but in the future, it should be on weekends.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter — evidently there are some things Hermione and Draco need to work through. When I started to develop their “enemies” dynamic, I really wanted it to be based on legitimate assumptions and issues they had with each other, nothing petty. Moreover, I wanted to show how both their assumptions are valid and make sense in that it's not one sided — they’re both wrong and right. I know the fight here didn’t get resolved here and it was kinda brushed aside, but I promise it will be revisited at some point!
Also surprise! I’ve got the next chapter uploaded! I hope you enjoy <3 Let me know what you think. Always open to constructive feedback. Please be kind. If you don’t like the work or ship, please spare yourself from reading. This is just for fun!
Chapter Text
“Emerging from an Abyss, and re-entering it — that is Life, is it not, Dear?”
— Emily Dickenson
“You requested to meet, Granger?” a voice drawled from the library doorway.
Hermione brushed an errant curl in her line of sight, not looking up as she poured over the Death Eater hideout she and Malfoy were supposed to infiltrate for their first mission together. The task was simple — get in, retrieve information, get out.
“Yes. I thought we should go over the plans again for the mission tonight.” She had gone over the plans with Malfoy a day prior, giving him an annotated copy of the floor plans and a document detailing a list of backup plans should anything go wrong. Hermione gripped her quill tighter, remembering his nonchalant expression when he briefly glanced over the documents, nodded, and handed everything back to her without so much as a question.
“I’m not incompetent you know,” she could feel his eyes narrowing at her. “Unlike your best friends who you had to mother over at Hogwarts, I’m not inclined towards feats of stupidity or recklessness.”
“I just want to make sure ,” she said as she gritted her teeth, finally looking up at his scowling face. She was anxious. She hadn’t had a partner in a while. Hermione had done fine on group missions but the few partners she’d had were not compatible — impatient, rash, often deviating from the plans or protocol. And she had no doubt in her mind that her and Malfoy would not be compatible.
Malfoy gave her an irritated look.
“Two entrances, five Death Eaters stationed. The study is in the north-west area of the house. A shift with the patrols begins at 10:15pm sharp. A five minute window to get in. There are three back up plans — ” he continued reciting, his tone flat and devoid of emotion. “Did I miss anything?”
After Scorpius had recovered from his fever, a quiet tentative truce had formed between them. Still, they kept their distance from each other. There was a mutual sense of distrust and tension as if they were waiting for the other to attack.
Malfoy had another nightmare last night. Scorpius had woken her up again, trembling and teary-eyed. This time, however, when she woke him up, he simply nodded at her stiffly without looking at her directly as he soothed Scorpius. Hermione nodded in return and before leaving, she silently waved her wand, conjuring two cups of hot chocolate on the bedside table.
Even now he still looked tense — dark shadows under his eyes and a coldness hardening his features like fine cut marble as he looked down on her.
“No, you didn’t miss anything, but there is something I wanted to go over,” she said as stood and came in front of the desk. He simply crossed his arms, raising a fine brow at her to continue.
“As you recall you can only use light magic,” he snorted but she ignored it, “and I understand the temptation to use the Dark Arts should something go wrong tonight. There of a couple of light spells — ”
“Look, Granger, if you’re trying to make me a victim to some disturbing fantasy of yours where you lecture like a professor at Hogwarts — ”
“Malfoy!” Hermione said, her cheeks flushing. Pompous git . His eyes remained hooded, almost bored as he returned her glare with a smirk. “As I was saying. It’s imperative to keep one's anger in check. Many have slipped up on these missions because their rage over seeing the Death Eaters caused them to disobey protocol. It’s these emotions, like anger, that fuel Dark Magic, causing them to be used almost unconsciously. People forget themselves, they let their anger define them when it shouldn’t,” she said, looking away. Rage electrifying her senses, the pull to hurt, to inflict pain. She pushed away the memory.
“Shouldn’t it?”
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, blinking at him incredulously.
“Anger. Rage. To an extent, doesn’t it still define a part of us? Why should we deny that feeling and pretend it doesn’t exist when all it means is that we subconsciously refuse to be treated the way we are?” His eyes flickered as he stepped forward. “Isn’t anger just an instinctive response telling us to protect ourselves from getting hurt? Directing that anger is key of course — control . But I find it ignorant to hide or deny an instinct that tells you to refuse to yield, to refuse to allow yourself to tolerate how you are being treated.”
Before Hermione could respond, a little voice called out followed by a bang and scuttling feet. Malfoy twisted around, sighing and calling out to his son as he left the room.
***
They walked through the dark hallway, keeping out for the faintest of noises. The wards had been easy to disassemble, the guards rotating exactly according to plan. Hermione ran the exit routes in her mind as Draco soundlessly loomed behind her. They had spotted more than five Death Eater guards and Hermione suspected there were more inside despite the lack of lights.
Suddenly a solid arm wrapped around her middle, another covering her mouth as she was pulled into an alcove. Hermione instinctively tried to break free but paused when hot breath hissed in her ear and heavy footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor. She kept still as the footsteps and voices got louder. Malfoy cast a silent Disillusionment Charm on them before pressing her closer to his chest.
“ — he’s displeased. Two Death Eaters captured and, from what I’ve heard, whatever they’ve been working on that Bellatrix has been overseeing hasn’t produced results — ”
Hermione glanced up at Malfoy feeling his chest go rigid behind her. His jaw in her line of vision clenched as his eyes darkened at the sight of the two unmasked Death Eaters passing by. They looked young — new recruits, she deduced. They had an air of haughty arrogance around them as they laughed over a recent attack on a muggle town where they had captured a few muggleborns in hiding.
“— filthier than bloody whores those mudbloods. Makes it even more satisfying shutting them up with some nice pureblood co— ”
Hermione went cold and instinctively looked up at Malfoy, unable to hide the accusatory, disgusted look in her eyes. Upon seeing her look, his eyes became dangerous as his arms tightened around her waist and mouth. She felt him shake his head, the fine hairs of his fringe tickling her ear, his steely eyes not breaking contact. She relaxed a little, knowing that he didn’t participate in such activities.
When their voices disappeared into the room up ahead, Hermione and Draco exited the alcove.
“They entered the room we were supposed to grab the information from. I heard more voices inside. There must be a meeting of some sort,” she whispered. “Change of plans — we’ll eavesdrop as much as we can but leave at the first possible moment. We still don’t know how many guards are around.”
Hermione was surprised when Malfoy simply listened and nodded at her instructions. They approached the doorway, hiding in another alcove close by. Draco looked at her curiously when she pulled out a long string-like object that, once unrolled, was disillusioned.
George and Hermione had tinkered with the Extendable Ears that he and his twin had invented. In addition to a Disillusionment Charm, they added a function that allowed it to record sounds it picked up so it could be played back — a feature similar to the muggle recording devices Hermione had gotten inspiration from.
Draco leaned forward, his ear briefly brushing Hermione’s as they listened in to the device.
“ — the Dark Lord has just passed down orders to put pressure up north. They’ve spotted boats trying to leave the border, mainly mudblood women and children,” a rough older voice declared.
“Women and children?” another spat. “That’s child’s work. Send the trainees.”
“He wants it done with… flourish. Says it’s to make a statement.”
Draco and Hermione listened in further on the plans until the discussion simmered into drunken rants about their lack of rest and the unfair punishments they’ve been receiving. Apparently, the Dark Lord was on edge lately, lashing out at every misstep, at every breath or look that even so much as hinted defiance. After deciding it was enough, the pair exited the house, making their way to get past the anti-Apparition wards.
They had just turned a corner when they pulled back sharply as green light flared in their direction.
“ Shit ,” Draco cursed.
Just then, ten Death Eaters swarmed into their vision. Hermione cast a quick protego around them.
“I can’t hold it,” Hermione grunted as the Death Eaters closed in. “We need to split — on the count of three.”
Malfoy nodded and on three they split in opposite directions. They both dodged the spells coming their way, firing back at rapid speed. Hermione sent a slicing hex at a Death Eater's legs while simultaneously dodging behind a pile of abandoned crates.
“Come out mudblood bitch ,” a voice growled.
Through a gap in the crates, Hermione sent the largest Death Eater crashing into the others. She emerged partially from the crates, firing spell after spell while maintaining cover. She briefly looked over at Malfoy who was holding his own surrounded by three Death Eaters, two of the five already down. A stillness overtook his features as his lithe body fluidly dodged each attack. In the glow of the green light, a rogue look illuminated his eyes, a cold fire that seemed to flare higher and higher as more attacks came his way. His wand movements were sharp and precise, hitting his target with brutal efficiency.
Hermione grunted as a spell grazed her cheek. She turned back to her own battle.
***
“Draco Malfoy,” a Death Eater sneered. He shot a curse at Draco which he dodged, casting his own shield in the next second. “The Dark Lord’s hound. More like bitch, eh?”
Unfazed by the taunts, Draco feinted then shot a blinding hex.
Draco heard a yelp just as he cast a shield and saw Granger topple to the ground, a gash sliced open on her leg. Before he could formulate a plan to regroup, she got up, a defiant look on her face as she shot a powerful curse at her opponent in retaliation. Her movements suddenly became hard and exacting, moving with honed precision — going for arteries, the eyes, the ankles, and any weak point she could identify.
“Blood-traitor!” Suddenly, Draco’s shield shattered as two Death Eaters fired a simultaneous blow. He hit the ground but recovered quickly, feeling blood pouring down his nose and tasting it in his mouth.
“Too bad your mother didn’t survive the fire. Would have loved to have a go at her uptight pureblood cunt — ”
“ Incendio engorio ,” he hissed. A jet of flames erupted from his wand, setting alight the Death Eaters in his path. The putrid stench of burning flesh hit the air along with agonized screams.
“Malfoy!” Granger called, deflecting spells. “We can’t hold on for much longer. They’ve called back up.”
True enough, more Death Eaters poured in. Hermione felt her exhaustion hitting her — she was losing blood from the open gash on her leg that she hadn’t had the chance to address.
Malfoy waved his wand, mouthing a spell she could not make out and all at once, darkness spilled around her. All the lights winked out as a heavy blackness, like that of a starless night sky, enveloped the area. There was a moment of silence as Hermione stood in the middle of a sea of shadows that swirled and swallowed everything around her. She jerked when a solid hand grabbed her wrist but relaxed when she realized it was Malfoy.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, still keeping his guard up. Draco led them out of the fog as she watched their backs. Finally, when they made it into the woods, getting past the anti-Apparition wards, they vanished.
***
“Mini, look!” Hermione turned her attention to the little boy who sat beside her on the library floor. He pointed at a picture of an animal and tried to pronounce its name.
“Good job!” she responded with a grin. That afternoon, she had found Scorpius on Malfoy’s lap full of frustration because his father had started to doze off. Despite his reluctance, Malfoy decided to take her offer to watch Scorpius while he took a nap.
They had arrived late last night, completely exhausted, all bruised and scraped, but no major wounds that couldn’t be handled with a healing spell and a patch of Essence of Dittany.
“Thanks a lot, Watson,” Hermione whispered, trying not to wake Scorpius. Malfoy was already in the bathroom when she entered. She let Watson go, telling him that she could watch over Scorpius while she waited for Malfoy. Hermione wanted to get confirmation on certain details she had noticed during the mission that she wanted to get down on her report immediately.
After Watson left, a soft groan escaped the bathroom. The door was ajar and against Hermione’s will, she found herself peaking through the small crack.
Draco Malfoy sat half submerged in the bathtub, head back, arms gripping the sides of the tub — tendons and muscles pulled taut as he hissed when the water filled with disinfectant herbs stung his cuts.
On his chest, three large gashes of an old scar marred his flesh. Hermione instantly recognized it as the sectumsempra scar Harry had given him. On top of it, blue and violet bruises bloomed on his pale skin from that night’s fight. Hermione braced herself when she finally looked at his inner forearm. Instead of black ink, the area where his Dark Mark should have been was discolored, almost grey, as if the mark was carved out of his skin — which it must have been, in addition to a magical procedure he must have figured out, she deduced.
Hermione’s eyes trailed up his neck and onto his face. He looked so much younger then — his eyes shut, expression unguarded, drops of water dripping heavily from his pale lashes. His lips parted, a soft breath faintly leaving his lips.
Hermione flushed and immediately stepped back.
Notes:
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think about their partnership. Next chapter(s) should be up next weekend! Feel free to connect with me on instagram for updates and Dhr content! (@cz_bl)
Chapter Text
“Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain.”
— John Keats
“Is we coming back, daddy?” Scorpius said while observing his father pack a bag with some of their items.
“Yes we are — we’ll just be in the woods for a couple of days,” Draco replied, ruffling Scorpius’ hair once he finished shrinking his son’s toy dragon.
A week after their mission, Granger located a site where they could find Hellebore plants to harvest its tears. The tears were an ingredient listed for one of the experimental substances the Dark Lord’s potion masters were working on, which she intended to replicate. The recipe was left in haste in one of the labs the Order had infiltrated and it was only weeks later that Granger found an area in a forest near the Carpathian Mountains that harbored the plant. It was a simple mission, safe enough to allow him bring Scorpius along especially since they were not sure how long it would take. They were to go and stay in the forest for a couple days to retrieve what they needed then return.
“Is Watsy coming?” Scorpius perked up, blinking at his father with wide silver eyes.
“He’ll be meeting us there.” Draco quirked a smile. His son had been undeterred by the crabby old elf, constantly following him around and babbling to him about his day. The elf had tried to make Scorpius leave him alone — sneering at the boy and grunting whenever Scorpius asked him questions. But Scorpius had simply giggled and copied his facial expression. Exhausted, Watson chose to ignore the child.
“All set, Malfoy?” Granger asked from the doorway. Her deep brown eyes peeked out from behind the curls of hair that fell across her face as she looked up from that beaded bag of hers. Draco shrunk their own bag and, after tucking it in his pocket, scooped up Scorpius and followed her out the room.
Once in the foyer, Hermione unwrapped a piece of cloth that revealed their portkey in the shape of the button. Gingerly, she placed a finger on it, Draco’s larger, slender one grazing hers as he held on to his son tightly with the other arm. The button glowed, signaling its activation, pulling the trio by the navel and in seconds they found themselves in the middle of the forest.
“Don’t like,” Scorpius groaned softly once they arrived, shutting his eyes and laying his head on his father’s shoulder.
“It’s all over. No more portkeys today,” Draco murmured, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He looked up, feeling Granger’s stare on him. Her brows were furrowed in concern and it seemed as if she was going to step forward. But upon seeing his scrutinizing gaze, she schooled her features then pulled out the map and studied the dozen potential campsites she had marked.
As she did so, Draco took in his surroundings. Despite being autumn, this section of the forest seemed stuck in that brief moment between winter and spring. The leaves shimmered as if frost had just thawed off of them like crystalized shells. There was a kind of tentative awakening in the faint humming of bees, buds of rosettes puckering and unfurling as if woken from a hazy dream by the soft touch of sunlight spilling through the canopy of leaves.
There was no war here. And for a moment, Draco felt like he was a child again, playing in his mother’s rose garden when spring first kissed the grounds of the Manor. When the only screams that resonated in the halls was that of a child’s as his mother chased him down the hallways on her bare feet — laughter when she caught him, telling him to hush because his father was in his study and would be upset to find them both barefoot and muddied from the grounds. And his father, peeking inconspicuously from the doorway, watching them fondly — pretending he hadn’t caught them.
“Okay, so now we just need to scout out for the most optimal campsite. I reckon this one I’ve marked near the lake would be the best,” Granger rambled, rummaging for something in her bag. She pulled out what looked like two matchsticks.
“What dat?” Scorpius asked curiously, squirming in his father’s arms to take a peek. Instead of responding, Hermione grimaced as she enlarged the sticks in her palms.
“Bwooms!” Scorpius squealed, pushing away from his father who let him down so that he could make his way over to the two brooms hovering before her.
“Erm yes, it is,” she said warily. “It will be the most efficient way to scout for a location to camp…”
Draco smirked, knowing full well the cause of the witch’s nervousness. A flash of curly hair bouncing wildly on a bucking broom flashed across his memory. Before he could stop it, a chuckle escaped his lips and his smile widened at the glare she shot him.
“Malfoy, you and Scorpius will take one. I’ll take the other,” said Hermione, without meeting his amused and arrogant gaze. “According to the map, there should be a small clearing with magical trees that ward the area against magical creatures…”
Draco ignored her lecturing as he evaluated the broom. It was a standard broom, definitely not new, built more for safety and sturdiness rather than speed. He ran his fingers over the dark chestnut wood that could use a good sanding and polish.
“Granger — ” Draco paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight of Hermione Granger in a hulking padded vest, thick gauntlets, and knee pads, fighting against her ridiculous curls as she tried to stuff them underneath a helmet.
“Not a word, Malfoy,” Hermione grunted as she clicked the last buckle into place. “Safety is an absolute priority! Now yours and Scorpius’ gear are laid out right there — ”
Draco bristled. “I’m not putting on — ”
“It’s mandatory! You may have your wand back, but you and Scorpius are still my responsibility! Don’t make me give this as an official order.”
Draco stiffened then reluctantly pulled on the gear on himself and then Scorpius.
“Daddy, don’t like! Don’t like!” Scorpius whined when his father secured his little vest around him.
“I know, I know, Scorpius,” Hermione sighed, climbing onto her broom. “But we need to be safe. These are for protection so we don't get hurt — ”
Hermione broke off with a yelp when the broom wobbled and twisted, almost causing her to fall off if it wasn’t for the large hand gripping the edge of the broomstick, stopping it from spinning. Hermione’s cheeks reddened as she followed the arm and looked up only to meet a pair silver eyes laced with mirth. A pale brow raised at her when she remained silent.
Hermione huffed, readjusting herself when Malfoy released his grip and straightened, easily towering over her from where she hovered barely a foot off the ground.
“Well, let’s get going,” Hermione said as she turned up her nose and feigned confidence.
Hermione watched as he scooped an excited Scorpius in his arms, looking like a little quaffle in his padded gear. Despite his height and padded bulk, Malfoy gracefully mounted the broom, one arm around Scorpius seated in front of him, who attempted to grip the handle with a look of determination in his brows.
“Is okay, Mini,” Scorpius said as he looked over at her cooly, obviously noticing her nervousness, “daddy will make sure you safe! Daddy always protect Scowpius!”
It was Draco’s turn to flush as he shuffled uncomfortably on the broom. Instead of responding, he lifted them up higher, giving in to that familiar feeling of utter freedom whenever he flew.
“ Wait , Malfoy,” Hermione grumbled. “You’re supposed to follow my lead!”
Hermione’s jaw clenched when he rolled his eyes. With determination, she lifted herself higher and higher, the broom shaky and unsteady. She tried not to look down.
“Scared, Granger?” Malfoy called out from above her. Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she gripped the broom with more determination, and, very much dignified, steadily moved past him, avoiding eye contact.
***
Hermione left Watson and Scorpius at the campsite to call Malfoy for dinner. The lake was located nearby and, after checking the perimeter, it looked safe, void of any water creatures beneath the surface. The night was cool and silent except for the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves.
Once Hermione reached the edge of the foliage, however, she paused. Draco Malfoy stood in the lake with his bare back turned towards her as the waters softly licked the dip of his spine. Moonlight dripped over his shoulders in droplets as his corded muscles rippled, tendons tensing then releasing. His hair shone as if spooled from starlight, stark against the dark quiet waters. He tipped his head upwards, and for a moment everything was still, as if in anticipation, except for the stars that danced overhead.
Hermione found herself held by that same curiosity she had had that night of the mission. His paleness was almost startling, like moonlight made flesh as silver scarred lines traced his back like unexplored constellations.Yet there was an odd sense of belonging in the way he stood bathing the black waters that were mortally still under his touch. A heavy glow, a steady pulse, the pale purity in which he stood so at odds with the dark undercurrent around him like an old, dormant kind of power — waiting, beckoning.
“Enjoying the show, Granger?”
Hermione froze, thankful the darkness hid her blush. She cleared her throat.
“Dinner is ready,” she responded clinically. He looked over his shoulder, the edge of his lips curling as if indulging in some kind of secret she could not possibly understand. Intent on maintaining her dignity, Hermione turned and brisk walked back to the campsite before he could fully face her when he came out of the lake.
By the time Malfoy arrived, damp haired but fully dressed, Hermione was sitting before the fire once more going over that night’s plans to harvest Hellebore tears. It had taken a frustrating amount of time for her to locate the plant, but she finally did so in an old journal of an unnamed herbologist she had found in an abandoned library in Kent.
“Daddy look! There samanders in the fire! Mini said they like fire!” Scorpius said excitedly as Draco sat beside him with a bowl in his hands. He pressed a kiss the boy’s hair then glanced at the fire that indeed had salamanders dozing in it, reminding him of his lessons with the half-giant Hagrid back in Hogwarts.
“Yes they do,” he replied. “And did you finish your meal?”
“Yes! I grow like big boy!” Scorpius started talking about all the plants and bugs he noticed that day, his chatter filling out the space along with the crisp crackle of the bonfire.
“So, Granger,” Draco said once Scorpius dozed off and Watson levitated him into their tent, “are there any traps I should be aware of once we locate the Hellebore ?”
Hermione finally glanced up, furrowing her brow. “Well, they’re more of a defensive species, so we would just have to look out for tricks or defensive mechanisms when harvesting. But I wouldn’t put my guard down. You see, often in wild ecosystems, symbiosis often occurs wherein — ”
“A mutually beneficial relationship is formed between two entities,” Draco interrupted, the edges of his lips lifting at her owlish expression. “I know what it means, Granger.”
“ Anyways ,” Hermione continued, “I wouldn’t be surprised if another plant, one with offensive mechanisms, lives in symbiosis with the Hellebore .”
Draco only nodded and when the day descended into midnight, they hopped on their brooms and ventured to the marked location.
They arrived at a small grove of flowers shaped like stars with opal petals that shone iridescently on the forest ground. Draco watched the flowers sway and rustle in the night air as if dancing to a melody he could not hear. Before Draco could touch one of the flowers, Hermione immediately snatched his hand back.
“ Don’t ,” she said, “ Hellebores only bear one flower per cycle. The rest of these must be decoys.”
The pair scanned the patches of flowers, avoiding touching them. They all looked identical — each in perfect symmetry, delicate and without flaw. Draco took another step but paused when his foot caught on a root. He looked down and cursed.
“ What — ” In the next moment, vines crawled up both their legs and torsos. Draco squirmed, his panic immediately building as the smell of fresh blood and the feeling of cold scales slithering around his body invaded his senses. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Malfoy! Relax!” Hermione commanded but it went unheard as Draco’s breathing continued to grow harsher and harsher, eyes unseeing.
“I didn’t do it, my Lord — I didn’t — ”
Hermione’s breath caught, realizing he was locked in a memory. Instinctively, she grabbed his hand. Malfoy blindly gripped hers back. Hard.
“Malfoy, listen to me!”
“Granger?” his voice rasped, “Nagini, she’s here she — ” His head continued to whip around, the vines snaked up faster and faster the more he tried to escape it.
“Malfoy, these vines are a similar species to the Devil’s Snare, it’s not Nagini — ” Draco gritted his teeth, crushing Hermione’s fingers but she held on.
“I need you to relax, okay? I need you to calm down,” she said as she relaxed her own body, already feeling the vines loosen around her waist. Calmly, Hermione continued to murmur facts about the Devil’s Snare and information she remembered from one of their first herbology lessons. She found herself going off tangent into memories of first year, letting the awe she felt at seeing magical plants and creatures for the first time seep into her voice, the wonder in which she saw a butterflower bloom and a bowtruckle dance up her arm and hide in her hair. Malfoy seemed to listen intently and begin to calm down as she kept going.
Finally, the vines loosened completely and they were able to extract themselves. Malfoy’s eyes were dark and distant, his breathing back to normal, but his hand remained tightly clasped around hers.
“Over there.” Hermione was startled by his calm voice but immediately recovered and followed his gaze towards a lone flower amongst a set of boulders. It was battered and old, its petals dull and limp. Hermione pulled them closer.
“It’s usually the battered and ugly ones that don’t tend to be picked, that are overlooked,” Hermione murmured almost inaudibly as she crouched. Slowly, she lifted a finger and caressed one of the petals. A soft light emitted from the flower and as it dimmed a small tear trickled down its petals. Hermione immediately accio ’d a vial and caught the tears. The drops shimmered like fresh pearls, the coolness of the glass vial in her palm at odds with the sinking warmth of Malfoy’s hand in the other.
***
A comfortable silence stretched over them as Draco and Hermione sat in silence in front of the fire, tending to their light scratches from the vines. Then, Malfoy looked at her blankly upon the fourth time she glanced at him. He gave her a look that said he could hear her thoughts and that she might as well speak them.
“So,” Hermione began, unable to hold back her curiosity, “Nagini?”
Draco looked back down and finished rubbing the Murtlap Essence around the blisters on his ankle before responding.
“Yes.” He hesitated for a moment. “The Dark Lord liked to use her on his… servants, ” — the word spoken darkly — “when he was displeased.”
“I see,” Hermione replied quietly, not needing any more information to confirm her thoughts. She paused, avoiding his gaze. “And — and Harry… ”
“Completely gone.” Draco smiled ruefully. “Don’t get me wrong — he looks the same. But there’s nothing left of Harry Potter in that body.”
“I knew that already — but I just needed to make sure. Ron, he… ”
A pained look briefly flickered over her features.
“I saw him, you know.” Hermione’s head snapped up. “Weasley. Appeared during a small raid for Dark Artifacts I was leading. He knew the Dark Lord would make an appearance — it was a setup. Weasley, that stupid git, set it up to lure the Dark Lord save his best friend he said .”
Hermione was still as she let him continue, trying to calm the pounding in her ears.
“But he was let go,” Draco continued. “The Dark Lord found it more of a punishment to let him live. He wasn’t wrong I suppose.”
No one knew where Ron was — except Molly who got the occasional text message from his muggle phone. But no one looked for him anymore. She didn’t. They had fought before he left. Months after Harry’s body was taken by Voldemort, Ron had still been convinced he could be saved, that one day the Golden Trio would be back together. And then he had abandoned her, accusing her of abandoning Harry when they needed him the most. She didn’t know if she could keep trying to convince him that Harry was gone. Fucking gone.
And so she had mourned, mourned people who were still, in different definitions, alive. Harry, Ron, her parents.
“Were you surprised?” Hermione broke from her thoughts and looked incredulously at Malfoy. “When Weasley left you,” he said, gaze unflinching, not skirting around as others did.
Her mind buzzed with a million memories and explanations, but deep down she knew the answer was a simple one. “No, I wasn’t.”
To her surprise, he merely nodded, no judgement in his expression. Suddenly, his brows furrowed as he stared into the fire, his eyes the color high summer, an odd warmth to them she never thought she would ever associate with him.
“I remember seeing you,” he said, still staring at the flames, “in third year. When you were exiled from the Golden Trio. You went to Hagrid’s hut almost everyday because Potter and Weasley ignored and abandoned you.”
Haven't you done enough damage this year? Can you hear someone talking, Harry?
“It was because of the Firebolt wasn’t it? You told McGonagall about it because you were worried it was cursed.”
Hermione just nodded stiffly. Draco scoffed.
“Madman who was after Potter escaped from Azkaban and they both had the nerve to break the rules because fuck it, yeah?” Draco’s expression was hard.
Hermione sighed after a moment. “I wasn’t surprised that Ron chose Harry. He always had. Always will. But sometimes even knowing beforehand doesn’t make it feel any less worse.”
There was a moment of silence as they both lost themselves in thought. “Well, regardless, to everyone else you seemed to have held yourself together that year,” Draco said as he dusted his sleeves, “running around the library with that swotty look on your face and that bush on your head.” He smirked at her narrowed eyes.
“Actually I almost failed an exam.”
Draco just rolled his eyes and lifted an eyebrow sardonically. “Let me guess — it was Lupin’s obstacle course and you almost didn’t conquer your boggart because it had turned into Dumbledore telling you you failed everything.”
Hermione turned red.
“It was Minerva,” she gritted out.
Malfoy paused, blinking at her before he tipped his head back and laughed. It was a warm, genuine laugh that went through her like mulled wine.
“You’re truly of a different sort, did you know that, Granger,” he said once he settled down, eyes flickering with amusement, making him look young, almost boyish.
Hermione’s lips twitched. “Likewise, Malfoy.”
Notes:
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I had fun writing about Scorp in his gear and that brief flashback moment about Draco’s childhood. That scene was very much impromptu and unplanned but I’m glad it’s there. Let me know what you think! Constructive feedback is welcome but please be kind and if you don’t like the fic, simply don’t read. Thank you! xx
**UPDATE: I’m so excited to share artwork of Scorpius by @meriyart in his gear from Chapter VI!!!! She captured him so perfectly and I hope you enjoy this little quaffle boy. You can also check out Meri’s account here and see her other amazingggg works.
Chapter 8: Chapter VII
Chapter Text
“Why do we hunger so for vicious things?
Our wishes bend the statues of the gods.”
— Robert Lowell
Draco leaned against a shadowed corner of the room, ignoring the arrogant voice of Cormac fucking Mclaggen. He, Granger, Mclaggen, and six other Order members were meeting in one of the safehouses, going over plans for a raid on one of the larger and more guarded Death Eater laboratories. And they were to be led by none other than Cormac Mclaggen. Draco sneered in his direction.
“ — the anti-Apparition wards span approximately within a 50 meter radius of the perimeter. There are three known exits, all guarded. According to our scouts, one is used for importing supplies. That’s the entrance we will be using, as we have a schedule of their shipment — ”
The plan was simple — too simple — without any contingencies or added protocols should anything go wrong. They were to hide in one of the shipments that a supplier, a secret spy for the Order, would hide them in. Then they were to split up with one group, including Granger and himself, tasked to gather as much information and samples as possible. Another group would be on the lookout and the other was responsible for setting up a distraction on the other side of the building when they needed to leave. Draco was surprised that Granger had not interrupted to point out the obvious holes in the plan. Instead she stood there with her brows furrowed as she mulled over the glowing figure that depicted the blueprints of the lab.
“And what’s the backup plan should we need to retreat?” Draco interrupted. “If there are more guards than anticipated or more security measures warding the information we need?” he drawled.
All heads snapped in his direction, Mclaggen’s lips curling in evident disdain.
“There are always many ways a mission can go wrong but we can't be afraid and wait around. This may be new to you Malfoy ,” his tone dripped with distaste, “but here in the True Order we go in with bravery , willing to sacrifice ourselves for the cause — until the very end.”
“Stupid Gryffindor bravery will get us all killed,” Draco spat.
“Maybe if you had some, Malfoy, then Hogwarts would not be overrun. Hermione wouldn’t have that scar on her arm had you not stood there like a fucking coward — ”
“Best to shut the fuck up, Mclaggen,” Draco said quietly, his voice pitching dangerously. The two men stared at each other, a palpable tension electrifying the room.
“Or what?” Mclaggen replied. Despite the flash of hesitancy in his voice, he stepped closer. Draco smiled.
“A shame really, if it weren’t for that blind Gryffindor bravery, maybe Harry Potter would still be alive.” Gasps filled the room and a crack resounded through the walls as Mclaggen’s fist met Draco’s jaw.
“ Stop ! The both of you!” Hermione yelled, going between them both before Malfoy could launch himself at the other man. “We don’t have time for this. Get some space and we’ll resume later. Everyone, except Malfoy, out .”
“Hermione, he — ” Mclaggen began.
“I’ll handle it,” Hermione said with a clipped voice and a glare. Mclaggen merely nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it, before leaving the room with the others.
When Hermione turned back around, Malfoy was glaring at her shoulder, jaw bruised and lip bleeding. She sighed, waving her wand and healing his lip.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” His eyes snapped up to hers, narrowing defensively.
“Really, Granger, you can’t possibly agree with the so-called ‘plans’ of that arrogant prick — ”
“He was appointed lead, Malfoy!”
He sneered. “And since when does Hermione Granger keep quiet when she knows better, when she knows someone is wrong,” he gritted out, stepping closer to her. Hermione stood her ground, glaring up at him.
“Well he wasn’t wrong about everything,” she said before she could stop herself. His eyes widened a fraction before his expression shut down. Hermione thought she imagined him flinch.
“I see,” he murmured, blinking slowly at her with blank eyes.
“Malfoy, I didn’t — ”
“Save it,” he cut her off, looking down at her with a guarded expression. “I’m not surprised. After all, you think I don’t notice the way you go rigid every time I walk in the room. Or how you become suspicious or guarded when I’m around. I know what I am, Granger — I know what I’ve done. And it will always be a part of who I am.”
Hermione looked away but held her head high, the atmosphere in the room even more stifling.
“ But , I wonder if you remember who you are, Granger.” Hermione’s head snapped in his direction. “I sometimes wonder if Hermione Granger let herself die that day on the battlefield.” Malfoy’s head tilted, his gaze piercing through her as if seeing something she could not. “A shame really.”
Before she could respond, Malfoy strode past her, leaving her standing alone as the echo of the door shutting resonated into nothingness.
***
The first part of the mission went smoothly — the team had successfully infiltrated the building and the three subgroups had gone into place. Hermione finally dismantled the last of the wards outside the main laboratory, letting her, Malfoy, and Mclaggen in. The room was empty and looked similar to the previous labs she had visited, but this was larger and Hermione couldn’t help but feel an air of foreboding as the smell of Dark Magic and decay invaded her senses.
“What is that smell,” Mclaggen choked. Malfoy too looked disturbed by the smell, his eyes watering as he grimaced.
“It doesn’t seem to be fatal,” Hermione coughed out, hiding her nose behind her sleeve. “I didn’t detect such fumes when I cast the charm. But the smell seems to be coming from over there.” Hermione brightened her lumos then approached a covered pile of what looked like little sacks on the ground. Malfoy and Mclaggen followed her lead, wands in the air while covering their noses as the stench grew stronger.
Hermione bent over, using her wand to flick the sheet backward. Instantly, she recoiled and smashed into a hard chest, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from the mutilated bodies before her. No. Not just bodies. Bodies of children .
Vaguely she noticed Mclaggen retching behind her. Neither she nor Malfoy could look away from the little bodies — between one to three years old, piled on top of each other. Their eyes were milky white in contrast to the black veins that sprawled across their delicate faces. Bile rose up her throat upon seeing their peaceful repose, a morbid contrast to their pale, bloated flesh.
Hermione choked on a sob and finally turned away as Draco pulled the sheet back over them.
“Vessels,” Draco said in a hollow voice. “That’s why he forced the purebloods to have children and it explains why some have disappeared. He’s been trying to create vessels, just like he did with Potter as a baby.”
Hermione screwed her eyes shut. The other bodies she had found on her previous mission — kissed by Dementors, soulless .
“Something hasn’t been working,” she finally managed to get out, her voice still shaky. “In the last lab they were using Dementors to suck out the souls of adult bodies — likely an experiment to turn bodies into viable hosts. Additionally, when I caught a glance at Harr — the Dark Lord, he too had those veins sprawled around his face. His current form must be weakening and now he is looking for a new vessel.”
It made sense. Voldemort had been successful in imbuing his soul into another being when Harry was a baby and now he is trying to do it again. The magical cores of children were still underdeveloped, making it easier to tamper with. Hermione suspected that’s what had happened to Harry when he was turned into a Horcrux — as he grew up, Voldermort’s soul and magic acclimated to his. She now suspected that Harry’s body was weakening because that’s what Dark Magic did to the body — it fed off one’s soul, one’s life . And now it could no longer sustain itself.
“A horcrux? He’s making another horcrux?” Mclaggen rasped, after finally recovering.
“I don’t think so. His soul is already mutilated. My theory is that he is trying to recreate what he did to Harry — create another vessel as a backup. Perhaps a stronger one as it seems Harry’s body is deteriorating with all the Dark Magic. But it’s not that simple. Harry was the first successful victim and he only survived because of his mother’s protection. From what I’ve gathered from the previous labs, they must be experimenting with ways to recreate what happened that night by finding an alternative to Harry’s mother’s sacrifice as such a spell is nearly impossible to recreate.The Hellebore plant’s tears have spiritual protective properties. But,” she swallowed, “from these bodies in front of us, there doesn’t seem to be much success.”
Before anyone could respond, shouts and explosions erupted from the other side of the building.
“ Shit ,” Mclaggen cursed, “it’s too early. Something’s wrong.”
Just then, someone from the subgroup tasked to cover them barged in — Susan Bones.
“It was a trap! Our inside agent was found out and they made him lead us in anyway. They knew we were coming! We’ve got to go!”
Malfoy glared at Mclaggen before running towards the door.
“How many are there?” Hermione asked, joining Malfoy and Susan by the door.
“Dean and Seamus are near the main hall. We counted five at the time, but more are pouring in. All the entrances are blocked,” Susan replied as they jogged through the empty hallways.
“Our best bet is to regroup with the others — ” Mclaggen began before Draco cut him off.
“And let them hoard us in one area and corner us? Are you mad, Mclaggen?” Draco growled.
“Get in line, Malfoy , I’m the one in charge — ”
“Shut it, both of you!” Hermione seethed. “Malfoy is right — we’re outnumbered vastly so even if we regroup it would just make capturing us easier. But I have a plan.”
The other three paused, wands still on guard waiting for Hermione to explain.
“When we run into Death Eaters, we shouldn’t stun them,” Hermione said uneasily waiting for protests but relaxed a fraction when there was none. “Stunning them will just lead a trail in our direction. I’ve been developing this charm — a variation of the Confundus charm where you can specifically target the information the victim is confused about and redirect it to a false thought. But it only lasts a short period. Nevertheless, it’s better that we confuse them into thinking we will be trying to escape through a particular exit so when others join them, they will be misdirected.”
“And the last group?” Mclaggen asked.
“We’ll just have to hope they make it out with their original route,” Malfoy responded, knowing just as the rest did that they had no other choices.
When Hermione taught them the charm and all was set, they continued towards Seamus and Dean. Up ahead, there were noises and they immediately slowed, wands at the ready. A curse shot out from the corner but upon realizing it was a stunner, Susan called out to Dean and Seamus.
“There you lot are!” Seamus said as he limped in their direction. Dean on the other hand had a nasty gash on his cheek but looked unaffected by it.
“We were able to take down five, but another five poured in and we decided to regroup with you guys,” Dean added.
Hermione quickly explained the new plan and showed them the charm. Suddenly, two Death Eaters stormed in from the corner. Malfoy cast a protego , followed by Mclaggen, easily deflecting the hexes. Shots fired in each direction, Dean sending an acid curse at them.
While writhing on the ground, Hermione cast the charm on them both. It worked. Both Death Eaters got up and ran in the direction of the opposite hall that led towards the furthest exit away from their intended escape route.
“Should they encounter others, those Death Eaters will be told they’ve seen us heading in the other direction. But it wont hold for long — let’s go,” Hermione instructed as they continued to make their way out.
They met thirteen more Death Eaters along the way. Thankfully, however, they didn’t meet them all at once. Everyone seemed to have mastered the charm and eventually they got closer to one of the entrances without much interference.
Finally they exited the building, only to find more fighting outside. The last group was surrounded by thirty Death Eaters. Before Draco could even strategize a way out, the rest of the Gryffindors lept into action, immediately stunning as many Death Eaters as they could. Without any choice, Draco joined in the fray, dodging left to right and sending curses in every direction. His muscles burned as he duelled two Death Eaters.
“Get past the anti-Apparition wards!” Mclaggen’s voice came from his right. Draco shot a slicing curse at one of the Death Eater’s arms, slicing it cleanly off while immediately dodging the other spell coming his way. He recovered by sending a stunner to his attacker.
Draco looked up, the smoke from the spells making it difficult to see who was left on the battlefield. Red and green light sparked in different directions, but it was difficult to make out any faces.
“Malfoy, let’s go!” Dean Thomas called, coming to his side along with Seamus. Draco scanned the field quickly before running with them to the edge of the anti-Apparition wards. Other Order members joined them there shortly.
“Where the fuck is Granger?” Draco snapped upon noticing the bushy-haired witch missing.
“Dolohov,” Bones answered with labored breaths as she clutched her bleeding arm. “She caught him from behind when he was attacking me. She urged me to go. That’s the last I saw of her.”
“We have to go, you know the protocol — ” a pale-faced girl began.
“Then go .” Draco shot her a murderous look and, before anyone could protest, Draco ran back into the haze.
***
“Hello, mudblood,” Dolohov spat.
Hermione tried to focus, trying to spot her wand. She had lost it after she had disarmed Dolohov who had been close to killing Susan. A rogue spell from her right had grazed her leg, causing her to stumble and drop her wand.
“Let’s see how you do without that wand of yours.” Hermione felt paralyzed as Dolohov launched himself at her, his fist meeting the side of her skull. Hermione’s vision went blank for a second as she collapsed on the ground. Her head rattled and she tasted the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.
“Get up, mudblood .” Dolohov hauled her upwards, her vision clearing fractionally once on her unsteady feet before she collapsed again on the ground. “Pathetic,” he laughed and aimed a kick to her stomach, causing her to double over.
“A shame — quite a pretty thing aren’t you. I’m sure you’ll make a good pet to — ”
“ Confringo ,” an angry voice hissed. Dolohov screamed as he was blasted into the air, landing with a resounding crack .
Suddenly, Malfoy was there with her wand in his other hand. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, helping her to her feet then giving her back her wand. Hermione blindly reached out for him and managed to cling on to his shoulder, her vision still blurred. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before winding his arm around her and supporting her weight. Her ribs felt cracked, but she managed to keep up with him.
Malfoy cursed. “They're surrounding us,” he rasped as he blocked another curse. Hermione could barely concentrate, the pain in the chest making it difficult for her to breathe. It felt as if a sudden weight had collapsed on her chest, every breath piercing through her lungs. She didn’t even realize that Malfoy had managed to haul her behind a small shack.
“Granger, I’ll be back. Stay awake,” he commanded, noticing she was going unconscious. Hermione put her weight against the wall, fighting to keep her eyes open as she weakly cast a healing charm to stabilize her breathing for a little while.
A moment later, a roaring sound startled her, two bright lights blinding her vision.
“Get on, Granger.” When her vision adjusted, Hermione thought she was hallucinating. Before her was Draco Malfoy on a large sleek motorbike, his blond hair disheveled, falling darkly across his fine face. His pale eyes flickered from beneath the shadows cutting across his hard expression. Is that Sirius Black’s motor —
Before she could finish the thought, Malfoy pulled her behind him, telling her to hold on tight as the engine purred then roared to life suddenly. Instinctively, she wound her arms around his torso, holding on tightly as they accelerated, the wind whipping through her hair and the smell of ash and sulfur receding into the distance.
When Hermione gained more of her senses, a weightlessness startled her. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably as she gripped Malfoy’s waist even tighter. The motorcycle sped through the air, going higher and higher as the building and trees disappeared from sight. The dizzying height along with the pain made Hermione’s vision blur as the stars began to swirl then wink out little by little, leaving a blanket of darkness all around her. Her head lulled forward, ear pressing against something solid, something warm. In the next breath, she let herself surrender to the steady heartbeat beneath her ear as a soothing numbness overcame her.
Lovely commission by alienescence!
Notes:
A/N: Ahh hello! Early update because I’m absolutely swamped this weekend! I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing in more of the characters. And yes I brought back Sirius' motorbike because I wanted to imagine Draco on it. But it helped with the escape plot too 😇 I also have a little surprise for you all that I’ll be sharing in the next couple of weeks!
Chapter Text
“Though my soul may set in darkness,
It will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night.”
— Sarah Williams
Draco’s eyes fluttered shut, the spray of warm water soothing the coiled tension in his muscles. He was still shaken up by the sight of the mutilated bodies they had found two nights ago. Children. Fuck . Unbidden, images of crimson eyes, scales, and flayed flesh slipped through the cracks of his occlumency walls, the doors he kept shut trembling and rattling.
“Ah, Draco,” a voice called out as he walked into the Great Hall and knelt before a throne of bones and serpents.“I am told your wife is pregnant.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Draco responded despondently, the doors of his mind sealing, hardening, obeying his wishes and responding to his commands to close off every emotion until his mind was barren and desolate like the world around him. The room was cold, silent except for the hissing and rattling of snakes slithering between the cracks and crevices. The very stones of the hall pulsed with dark magic, casting a heavy and oppressive atmosphere that would have been suffocating if his body and magic had not adapted to it.
“I was beginning to wonder if your fragile wife was barren since it took you three months after your marriage to conceive.” The Dark Lord chuckled, followed by the other Death Eaters in the room. A black python slithered across Draco’s boots but he remained still, face blank and impassive as he watched its obsidian scales glimmer with an oily sheen under the greying light.
“Rise.”
Draco lifted his head and stood, looking at the boy he once rivaled in this very place. It had been eight months since the Battle of Hogwarts and though the Dark Lord seemed to assimilate to his form, something was off. It was as if Potter’s body lost all color, lost all life. His crimson eyes were stark on his waxy skin, his dark hair pulled back, setting his cold features more prominently. A dark energy radiated around him, alive and invasive, causing a faint tremor along Draco’s fingertips.
“I’ll admit, you’ve impressed me, Draco,” the Dark Lord said with an eerie kind of calm. “I was curious how you would fare serving the face of your rival. And after your father lost his life during the ambush, I was almost certain that the Malfoy name would continue to bear his shame, his weakness. But you have climbed the ranks and pleased me.”
Draco bowed. “Of course, my Lord. I wouldn’t let petty childhood rivalry get in the way of the true goal.” Draco was careful not to lie. The Dark Lord could easily detect them, as evidenced with the severed heads of Death Eaters that floated along the ceiling of the Great Hall.
The Dark Lord stepped forward. Instinctively, Draco thought of the meadow and the manor with many doors, sealing and opening selected ones, ready to redirect, manipulate, and evade his master. The doors shook under the expectation of what was to come next. But, before the Dark Lord could invade his mind, the door to the hall burst open, letting in Fenrir Greyback who dragged three large bodies with him.
Draco stepped aside and sneered in disgust as the brute shoved the bodies forward then licked the blood and dirt off his fingers with sadistic pleasure.
“My Lord,” Greyback bowed, “while we were digging into Potter’s past, we stumbled upon his muggle relatives.” Draco maintained a blank expression but took note of the information about the Dark Lord’s interest in Potter’s past.
“Harry? Harry, my boy, it’s us! Your Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and your dear cousin Dudley!” the muggle man sniveled. He was a portly man with sallow skin. He didn’t resemble Potter at all. Neither did his wife nor their son. A putrid smell of sweat and dirt hung around them as they huddled together, looking up at Harry Potter for mercy.
The Dark Lord paused for a moment then laughed. It was a genuine laugh but it sounded hollow echoing over the vast space as his features stretched too wide. The serpents hissed and began to slither towards the flesh blood pooling around the muggles, tasting the palpable fear in the air. Their hopeful faces immediately vanished.
“I owe you my thanks,” the Dark Lord said once he recovered, still grinning as he walked around them.“When I finally took Harry Potter’s body, it was ripe for the taking. My soul had easily acclimated with his because so early on it was already filled with so much anger and hate. From an early age, thanks to you — his own muggle family — he was filled with so much resentment. The way you treated him just because he had power,” the Dark Lord chuckled coldly. “It was your own undoing. So much rage and hate from his treatment, abandonment, loneliness. It fed my soul, and I have you filthy muggles to thank.”
Without warning, Nagini shot out and struck the older man, fangs piercing into his fat flesh. His wife and son screamed in horror as he choked on his own blood, dying slowly, painfully.
“Please! Please — Harry! We’re family!” the wife begged, tears and snot running down her pinched face. “Dudley — at least spare Dudley!”
“Draco,” the Dark Lord’s voice echoed, summoning him without sparing him a glance.
“Yes, my Lord,” he responded, taking a step forward.
“Let’s fill the Great Hall of Hogwarts with music shall we?” he said as he raised both arms, head tilting upward.
“Yes, my Lord,” Draco repeated, stepping in front of the muggles.
“Please! Please! Have mercy!”
“Crucio!” Draco hissed, watching the woman’s body spasm as she let out a blood-curdling scream. The Dark Lord shut his eyes as if savoring the sound of some morbid symphony composed of the woman’s screaming and her son’s sobbing.
Crucio, crucio, crucio, crucio. Again and again, the screams ringing in his ears until it was a muted white noise. He meant it, he had to mean it. And so he did it again and again along with curses that rendered their bodies unrecognizable — but their faces were always impressed perfectly in his memory. More and more faces, again, and again —
No . They escaped. They were safe. They were safe.
Draco pressed his forehead against the tiled wall. The water had gone cold, but he savored it — letting it ground him as he built up his occlumency walls layer by layer, shutting every door, until he felt detached from his emotions and memories.
They escaped. He and Scorpius were safe. Scorpius was safe.
Ever since they made it out, he couldn’t help but look over at Scorpius in the middle of the night or hold him a bit tighter (much to the little one’s playful annoyance, constantly reminding Draco that he was a big boy now). Especially after the last mission, he couldn’t help but be more protective of his son.
The day after the mission, everyone at the meeting was horrified. The only silver lining was that the Dark Lord was weakening and now that they knew of his larger plans, developing targeted strategies would be easier. Draco felt an ounce of smug satisfaction at the memory of Kingsley reprimanding Mclaggen for his shoddy planning. Luckily, there were no casualties but half of the team returned severely injured. Without the Golden Girl’s brains and his luck upon stumbling upon Sirius Black’s motorbike at some shed where he thought he would find brooms, he and Granger would not have made it out.
Unfortunately, the True Order took the motorbike, but Draco still remembered the powerful rush of flying on the contraption. When he had not spotted any broom, he vaguely recognized the vehicle as a muggle contraption for transportation and initially thought to use it to escape the wards quickly with Granger’s injured body. Luckily, it seemed magicked so that it simply came to life the moment he hauled himself on to it, his natural broom reflexes allowing him to find his balance easily. The moment he sped off with Granger wrapped around him, instinctively, he could feel the magic on the bike urging them to take flight. Before Draco knew what was happening, they were speeding into the starry night.
Draco was cut off from his thoughts when, after fully dressing, he left the bathroom to find Scorpius acting nonchalant while playing with his stuffed dragon. Suspiciously, the little tot looked over exerted with his cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, as well as slightly wheezing.
“Scorpius… ” Draco began. His son looked at him guiltily.
“I just want to pway with Mini,” he pouted. Draco sighed. After the previous mission, Draco had become more strict with his son. Nevertheless, whenever Draco was preoccupied, Scorpius began sneaking out to go see Granger (or Watson when he couldn’t find her). He knew that his son was safe, but he still couldn’t let Scorpius think he could disobey his father like that, especially in the case of an attack.
“I know, Scorp, but you need to listen when I tell you to stay put, okay?” Scorpius kept frowning but nodded.
After finally getting Scorpius to nap, Draco went out in search of Granger, unsurprisingly finding her in the library. She looked in complete disarray — hair puffing up more than usual and violet circles under her eyes, no doubt having difficulty getting sleep after what they saw during the mission.
“After seeing you try to defend yourself that night without your wand, I was surprised the Order never trained you in basic self-defense without a wand,” he said as he leaned against the doorway.
“It was never a priority,” she said indifferently, obviously uncaring as she scurried across the room to another pile of books without looking at him.
“Without your wand you are a liability, Granger!”
She paused at his tone, finally looking at him with an anger that lit up her dull expression. She glared at him, fully present now, the burning ember so often stifled from the ashes of the war sparking into a blazing wildfire. Fierce, determined — a true Gryffindor lioness.
“That’s why there are protocols for those kinds of situations, Malfoy! You weren’t supposed to come back for me!” she fumed.
Hermione made to turn away but was stopped when a solid hand grabbed her wrist and twisted her around, shoving her against the wall. Large hands clamped around her other wrist, pinning it and its partner by her shoulders. She looked up angrily only to be met with Malfoy’s bored hooded eyes.
“If you refuse to think your life is of any value,” he said calmly, “then try to get your overused brain to understand it in these terms. You complain that the Order does not have enough manpower, not enough resources — well, that’s how I easily managed to get here isn’t it?” he said as he loomed over her but she refused to back down.
“The Dark Lord has expendable resources with the promise of power and his hold over the richest families in Britain. The Order has none of that. And so you would do well to get rid of that stupid Gryffindor pride for at least one bloody moment and start learning to save yourself,” he hissed in her ear.
“Like a Slytherin then?” she asked, lacing her words with distaste. Deep down, she knew he was right. That feeling of being powerless when she was up against Dolohov without her wand haunted her. And although she told herself that one day she was likely to die on the battlefield for this war, like so many others had, a selfish part of her urged to live. Because she did — she wanted to live.
“Indeed, like a Slytherin,” the edge of his lips lifted upwards, suggesting he hadn’t perceived her comment as a slight at all. “I’ll teach you, at least enough to defend yourself without a wand. Only some of the Death Eaters cared to learn hand-to-hand combat but they’re all bigger than you so at least you’ll have a chance,” he said, assessing her expression.
She looked away however, conflict warring over her features. Before she could continue her internal debate, a slender finger hooked under her chin, forcing her to look upwards. Her eyes narrowed in defiance upon meeting his steely gaze, unafraid and unperturbed despite her internal turmoil.
After a moment, she gave him a sharp nod and he relaxed his grip. He nodded back in acknowledgement before releasing her and striding out of the room, curling his own hands as the warmth of her skin still pulsed beneath his fingertips.
***
“ — well that’s what it says , Granger!”
“ — that’s why it’s called a guide ! Not an instruction manual! Just because the parenting guide book says that you should expect his second molars to come out at exactly 25 months, doesn’t mean — ”
“ — but that’s the norm isn’t it! Scorpius ought to be checked! It clearly says that a possible reason it’s been delayed is because his molars might not be facing the right direction which could lead to — ”
“My parents were dentists — teeth healers — Malfoy! You can’t follow these parenting books so strictly and be so uptight. Every parent — ”
They had been at it for hours. Ever since Malfoy found one of the only wizarding books in their small library, an old copy of Madame Melba’s Guide to Parenting Wizarding Children , Malfoy had been obsessively pouring over every detail.
Hermione was about to continue her rant as he flipped through the pages, looking for his ‘evidence,’ but she paused when he pulled out a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles from his pocket. At her abrupt silence, he stopped flipping through the pages and looked up.
Upon noticing that she was staring at his reading glasses, a faint flushed crept over his features but he still kept a single indignant brow raised until she averted her eyes.
“As I was saying — ”
“Mini! Mini! Look what Watsy give me last night!” Scorpius Malfoy toddled in, straight up to Hermione with a big grin on his face. “He give me chocwate! My favrite! Is yummy! You want some, Mini?”
Hermione fondly ruffled his head then took a small piece of chocolate from his little fingers and thanked him.
“How about me, Scorpius? Can I have a bit of chocolate?” Malfoy asked, looking affronted. To Hermione’s amusement, the little tyke’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ before he gobbled up the last piece of his chocolate.
“Sorry daddy, no more,” the little boy garbled out innocently through his stuffed cheeks, face smeared with chocolate, while his father sported an incredulous expression. Before he could say anything, his head snapped in Hermione’s direction when she let a laugh escape her lips. Malfoy’s eyes dipped towards her hand covering her smile momentarily before he met her eyes with a half-hearted glare.
“Oh and look Mini what I drew!” Hermione was pulled from her exchange when Scorpius clambered up on her lap with a drawing. Hermione briefly glanced at Malfoy as the little boy snuggled against her and made himself comfortable on her lap, but his expression was unreadable. She looked over the piece of paper and saw a little blond blob that looked like a potato with a smiley face wearing tiny blue pajamas clutching what looked like an overstuffed lizard.
“Das me and my toy dwagon,” Scorpius said as he pointed proudly at his work.
“And what is that?” Draco asked upon approaching them and pointing at two brown oval rocks on top of each other. A carrot seemed to be sticking out of the upper rock, and upon closer inspection, a frowning face seemed to be drawn on to it as well.
“Is Watsy!” Scorpius replied as if it was obvious. Draco blanched, then bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Hermione covered her mouth once again.
“Its… lovely!” Hermione choked out. Scorpius blushed and snuggled closer to her. “Do you want to give it to him?”
The little boy nodded at her shyly and she gave him a squeeze before calling Watson. Watson appeared a moment later, confusion evident in his crinkling leathery brow.
“Ms. Granger has called for Watson?” he said, eyeing Scorpius suspiciously.
“Oh! I hope we weren’t bothering you, Watson, but Scorpius had something to give you!” Hermione gently put Scorpius down and encouraged him to step forward when he continued to look down and peek shyly at Watson, keeping his drawing behind his back.
“I have something for Watsy,” Scorpius said as he pulled his drawing forward and presented it to the elf. Watson looked confused as he took the offered paper. “Is a drawing of me and Watsy. Here, das me and das Watsy.”
Watson had a look of absolute horror on his face, but upon seeing Hermione’s warning look, cleared his throat and nodded. “Watson is… er… thankful for the young Malfoy’s gift,” the elf said as he awkwardly held the paper with his thumb and forefinger. “If that is all…”
“Yes that is all, thanks, Watson,” Hermione replied kindly. Scorpius grinned cheekily and waved as Watson disappeared.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh I know, I know it’s short! I had intended to post two chapters but this week has been hectic! I promise more action in the next one and, in fact, it contains a couple of my favorite scenes! Our favorite guy to hate is also making a comeback ;) Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!
Chapter 10: Chapter IX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I can give you my loneliness,
my darkness, the hunger of my heart,
I am trying to bribe you
with uncertainty, with danger,
with defeat.”
— Jorge Luis Borges
Draco deeply inhaled the cold morning air, his lungs expanding and receding steadily. The leaves rustled and the birds twittered from their perch, bathing in the falling sunlight, undeterred by the tension between him and the witch as they circled each other.
“That all you got, Granger?” Draco sneered as she narrowly dodged his fist. “Fucking pathetic.”
At his words, the tension in the air sparked and Draco’s eyes widened fractionally upon feeling a surge of magic crackling around him dangerously.
“Shut it, Malfoy.” The bushy-haired witch gritted her teeth, jabbing her fist towards him just like he showed her. Easily, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it and pulling her flush against him. The heat of her body burned beneath his touch, their skin, slick with sweat, only caused him to tighten his hold.
“You need to stop overthinking before you strike,” he said, boring intently into her narrowed brown eyes. “I can see you thinking about your next move before you make it. Your tell is your eyes — you glance at your intended target before striking.”
Granger pulled away from his grip resuming her defensive stance. This time she gazed directly at him. Under the morning light, her eyes were the color of firewhiskey — the kind his father kept hidden except on special occasions, the one that as a child Draco had been forbidden to taste. Then she struck, almost catching him off guard by sending a kick to his crotch. Reflexively, he wrapped his arm around her ankle and then took advantage of her imbalance by swiping her other leg off the ground. She landed with a grunt, glaring at him when she recovered.
“Again,” he said coolly as she got back to her feet. “I’ve seen you in battle, your wand work is precise and fluid. Hand-to-hand combat is the same. You can’t formulate which moves you’ll use beforehand — you need to work off your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, letting your instincts take over.”
“I’m trying but it’s not as easy as it looks! If I had a book first so I could prepare and understand the techniques — ”
“ Really , Granger?” Draco rubbed his temples. “This is why you were utter shite during year one broom classes. Not everything can be taught in a book!”
“Well some of us had no choice but to use books! Not all of us had private tutors over the summer or the favoritism of professors — ”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Draco said in a clipped voice before sending a kick her way, which she blocked, “but maybe if you got off your high horse you’ll see that I earned every grade I got! And no Snape didn’t hold favoritism — I’ve always had an affinity for potions. You're just bitter I scored higher than you in that class!”
Granger’s brows furrowed in evident contemplation while swiftly avoiding two jabs coming her way. She didn’t buy his words, which only incensed him more.
“As for the tutors I merely used resources that were at my disposal!” She tried to feint for his right but he saw it coming and sent her to the ground again. “Yes, I know I was lucky and privileged that my family had connections to the best tutors in each field, but what was I supposed to do? Of course I took advantage of every opportunity that came my way! But that doesn’t mean I didn’t work hard!”
“And the quidditch team?” she panted out as she resumed her defensive stance. Despite her small build, she somehow managed to stare down at him.
“What about it?” His eyes narrowed.
“Your father bought the entire team new brooms and coincidentally you became Slytherin’s new Seeker?” she said with an accusatory brow raised. Draco launched himself at her, throwing every combination he had taught at her.
“I’ve been on a broom since I could fucking walk! I trained every fucking day over the summer!” Silently, he commended her on her solid defenses. However, her energy was dwindling quickly, causing her to slow down. He continued. “Believe it or not Granger, I earned my way on that team! And it was only after I got on that my father gifted the brooms! Don’t even call me out for privilege or favoritism when Potter himself got away with just as much, if not more, shit.”
Hermione was panting heavily, her arms aching as she started getting sloppy.
“You’re still a pointy-faced prick!” she growled at him after he sent her staggering.
“Never denied that I was,” he smirked, looking less winded as he casually dodged her fists with a refined sort of elegance that only infuriated her.
“Arrogant git !”
“And what are you going to do about it?” he spat, cornering her near a large tree. “Is the Brightest-Witch-of-Our-Age ready to admit that she isn’t a perfect little swot that is good at everything?”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Make me,” he challenged, giving her a vicious smile before sending a fist her way. Her muscles ached but her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. There was a certain thrill of feeling grounded in the moment, through the meeting flesh against flesh everytime she struck and their bodies danced around each other in a natural kind of rhythm, a pattern that made her feel present in her existence — a feeling she realized she had not felt in so long.
Hermione immediately ducked and, using the tree behind her for momentum, she kicked off of it and wrapped her arms around his torso, sending them both to the ground with a thud .
His body was solid beneath hers, muscles flexing underneath her touch. They panted, their skin overheated as their chests expanded against each other, greedy for air. For a moment, they stayed there, catching their breaths before she huffed and rolled over beside him. Hermione stared up at the robin-blue sky as she tried to settle her hammering heart, savoring the cool breeze that licked her burning skin.
“An inelegant move but it did the job,” Malfoy said with a wince. “Useful when you're cornered, however it lacks actual technique. But then again I shouldn’t be surprised given that you seem to prefer a less refined approach to life as evident in the way you refuse to subdue that bushy mane — ”
Draco flinched at the hard slap that hit his shoulder.
“Just be fucking quiet, Malfoy,” Hermione groaned. Before shutting her eyes, she thought she heard a light chuckle before it was lost in the soft rustle of leaves.
***
Hermione would have laughed at Scorpius’ scowl (very much identical to his father’s) if it weren’t for the palpable tension between the True Order members and the two Malfoys. Hermione herself felt a sense of unease as the True Order members glared and whispered as they made their way upstairs to their rooms. They were to stay at the Shell Cottage safehouse for a couple of days to regroup and go over some new plans together with a team that returned from Slovenia.
“Where Mini going?” Scorpius frowned when Hermione, after setting up wards in Malfoy’s and Scorpius’ room, turned towards the door.
“I’m just going to get myself settled in the next room,” she smiled warmly. Scorpius’ brows furrowed in worry.
“Mini should not go downstairs. Ders many mean people. I no like dem,” Scorpius said seriously while burrowing further into his father’s arms.
“They’re nice people — they won’t hurt you, Scorp, I promise,” she replied, giving his little head a pat. He still didn’t look convinced but Malfoy gave her a dismissive nod, which she returned then left.
“Come in!” Hermione called out upon hearing a knock at her door just as she finished unpacking. When she was satisfied that her books were properly organized, she turned towards the figure leaning on her doorway. “Need something, Mclaggen?”
“I just arrived from HQ and was requested by Kings and Moody to deliver this note to you,” he said as he handed over a sealed parchment.
“Thanks,” she responded as she took the note, looking at it curiously. When she noticed he was still in the doorway, she looked up at him expectantly. Just like many of the Hogwarts students left in the war, Mclaggen looked much older. He had filled out and his face was more chiseled. Yet, he still had that aggressive and self-righteous look in his amber eyes, holding some kind of unfounded surety in his place in the world. Hermione had reminded herself that the war had mellowed him over. He could hold the occasional conversation that didn’t always involve himself. Still, she always mentally prepared herself whenever he wanted a chat.
“So Hermione,” he began when she didn’t say anything else. His cheeks flushed slightly but he continued to look at her intently and took a step forward. “Just wanted to see how you were doing after the mission. I was really worried about you and all — and not just because you were my responsibility due to my position as team leader.”
“Who you?” an imperious voice interrupted from the doorway. Mclaggen immediately turned around only to be met with Scorpius who had the most Malfoy sneer on his round face. The little boy sized up Mclaggen with evident disdain from his position in his father’s arms.
Mclaggen looked from the child to Malfoy who had his eyes narrowed at him. “Apologies, are we interrupting something?” Malfoy asked, raising a pale brow at Hermione.
“No you weren’t,” Hermione said as her gaze shifted to Mclaggen who looked unsettled by the tot still glaring at him. “Cormac, this is Malfoy’s son, Scorpius. Scorpius this is Cormac — he’s a friend.”
The little boy continued eyeing the confused Mclaggen then reached out to Hermione. “Mini, carry.” Malfoy reddened slightly, about to reprimand his son but was cut off when Hermione waved him off and pulled the child into her arms. To her surprise, Scorpius wrapped his little arms around her neck, putting his head on her chest as he gave Mclaggen a challenging look.
Hermione tried to hide her panicked expression as she tried to fight her instinct to pull the boy closer. She already knew she was attached to him and knew Malfoy wouldn’t be too happy about it. But thankfully, Malfoy seemed to be concentrated on Mclaggen. Briefly, she thought she saw his eyes flicker over her bed and her state of dress before staring impassively at the man near her doorway.
“Well, I best be going,” Mclaggen said, nodding at Hermione. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Hermione gave him a tight smile. “Sure.”
When he left, Hermione sat on her bed with Scorpius on her lap. She began to open the note from Kingsley and Moody while Scorpius tugged at her curls, giggling when they bounced.
“This is a note from Kings and Moody,” Hermione murmured as she read the contents. Once done, she held it out for him to take. “They want to see you at HQ tonight to go over some memories. There’s a button portkey at the bottom of the envelope, which will activate around seven.”
Draco scanned the note and frowned, but didn’t say anything.
“I just have some light reading planned for tonight so don’t worry about Scorpius,” Hermione said clinically.
“That’s fine. I’ll put him down for a nap now,” Draco said, pulling the reluctant Scorpius from her arms, not meeting her eyes.
***
“Done!” Scorpius chirped, beaming at her widely. Hermione chuckled, taking a napkin to wipe the red pasta sauce from his mouth.
“Good job, Scorp! And you ate all the little veggies in the pasta too!” Scorpius puffed his chest out at her compliment.
The little tyke was in a better mood that evening. The rest of the Order occupants left them in the kitchen, choosing to scatter around the porch and living room. Thankfully, they were less tense around Scorpius without Malfoy glowering at them. Some even looked upon the child sadly. Despite being a Malfoy, he was still an innocent child in this war.
She was holding Scorpius on one hip while using her other hand to help him clean his sticky hands when, all of a sudden, the lights went dark.
It was eerily silent, the world plunged into darkness except for the dim glow of moonlight from the murky windows. Hermione immediately drew her wand, clutching Scorpius close to her. Thankfully the boy remained still and silent.
Out of nowhere, a green light flashed followed by screaming. Chaos ensued afterwards as the Order members began shouting from outside. We’re under attack. Death Eaters. Death Eaters. Death Eaters.
Hermione’s heart beat frantically, her body instinctively shielding the child in her arms. She tried to apparate but the attackers seemed to have put anti-Apparition wards in place. Hermione cursed, keeping her guard up. The fighting was occurring outside and she would have joined the other members but she held a terrified child in her arms. Hermione quickly made her way to the dark hallway and up the stairs. Scorpius began to whimper as explosions erupted outside.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ll protect you,” Hermione whispered in a shaky voice. She entered her room and made her way to the old armoire. Quickly, she locked herself and Scorpius inside with a wave of her wand. The boy clutched her tightly, burrowing his head in her neck.
“Such a strong boy. So brave.” She rubbed circles on his back as she knelt on the ground and looked through the keyhole. Hermione’s finger shook as the shouting and screaming got louder and louder. The Order had a protocol for attacks like this — someone was supposed to activate the beacon to call for backup. But, as time passed, it seemed no one was able to do so. Hermione knew that if they didn’t receive backup, even if she and Scorpius remained hidden, they would eventually be found by the Death Eaters in the rubble. She knew what she had to do.
“Scorpius, look at me, please,” she said, cupping the boy’s face. “I need you to be a good boy and listen to what I say, okay? We’re going to play a little game, kind of like hide-and-seek, which we played yesterday, remember?” Scorpius nodded, his silver eyes wide and terrified. “I need you to listen to me and be quiet — no matter what.” The little boy’s lip trembled, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I am going to go out just for a little bit— but I’ll be back, I promise. But you need to stay here and be quiet, alright?”
“I’m scawed, Mini.” Scorpius shook as panic overtook his features. Hermione took a blanket laying in the closet and wrapped it around him.
“No matter what you hear, I want you to stay hidden. It’ll be our little game. Just wait for me or daddy to come get you, okay? Don’t make a sound for anyone.”
“O – okay. I stay. Mini will come back?” he asked, clutching her sleeve desperately.
“Yes, I promise.” Briefly, she pressed her lips to his forehead before unlocking the door and quietly leaving the closet. She locked it again and quickly put wards along with a Notice-Me-Not Charm on it. She glanced back one more time at the armoire, her heart shattering before she mustered all her strength to leave him.
Hermione crept through the hallway and down the stairs with her wand ready. She just had to get to the foyer and activate the beacon. When she got half way down the stairs however, the front doors blew open as an unmasked Death Eater barged in. Amycus Carrow.
“Well if it isn’t the mudblood ,” he spat, shooting a curse at her. “Do you know how many labs you and your filthy friends ruined?”
Hermione cast a shield, then cast a slicing hex that grazed his cheek.
“You bitch! You don’t deserve to have magic!”
At his words, Hermione felt her own magic flare in her veins. No matter how often others tried to deny her the right to her own magic, it called to her, it belonged to her, it was hers. Her magic pulsed through her blood, a raw kind of power that hummed in perfect harmony inside of her. It was euphoric — so natural. She pulled deep inside of her for that power and unleashed it.
" Sectumsempra! "
Carrow’s eyes widened as numerous lacerations appeared upon his torso. Blood gurgled from his throat as he fell to his knees before her. She smiled from above him, basking in the look of pure hate in his eyes as he looked up at her from where he knelt. No one, no one could take her own fucking magic from her.
Swiftly, she moved past his body and wrapped her hand around the head of the phoenix statue. Instantly, a golden light speared through the top of the statue. A few seconds laters, she heard the distinctive pops of portkeys outside and let out a breath as True Order members appeared.
***
Draco appeared in the middle of a battle — the sight of disfigured bodies and the chaos of rogue spells flashing were something he should have been used to by now. His heart rattled in his chest as his eyes searched frantically for his son and Granger. Fuck, fuck, fuck . The moment HQ was alerted to an attack on Shell Cottage, he immediately portkeyed with the others. He joined in the fray, anger fuelling his attacks. He cut a path directly to the safehouse, white hot rage blinding him, not pausing as he took down anyone in his way.
Before he could reach the doorway, however, he caught a flash of curls to his left. Granger . He made his way towards her but momentarily paused. There she was, hair wild, eyes full of fury as she shot curse after curse in every direction. She was covered in dirt and blood, and even he could not deny the magnificence in which she wielded her magic — magic that came so easily to her, that was moulded and sharpened by her sheer will. Deep down he couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the witch before him.
Draco caught movement behind her and shot a hex past her, taking down an attacker. Granger whipped towards him, breathless. For a moment she prepared herself to attack but stopped upon recognizing him.
“Malfoy,” she exhaled, lowering her wand.
“Granger,” he replied, quickly assessing her. No major injuries from what he could tell. “Scorpius, where — ”
“He’s fine. He’s hidden inside — ” before she could continue, a loud sound echoed through the space. The anti-Apparition wards suddenly disappeared, and, before they could react, cracks of Disapparition filled the air. In the next moment, only True Order members and bodies remained.
“Kingsley! Over here! They left something!” Draco and Hermione glanced at each other before making their way towards the front of the safehouse where people were gathering. Before them were dozens of bodies, mutilated and almost unrecognizable. One of the Order members choked in horror, wailing over a boy so young, he couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
“It’s the scouts.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.” Hermione looked in horror as she began to recognize some of the bodies. Padma. Macmillen. Angelina Johnson. Katie Bell.
“It’s a message,” she murmured. Moody grunted as he hobbled over and flicked his wand to summon a piece of parchment that was nailed to one of the bodies. It was written in blood.
Where is your light now?
“What the fuck is that Death Eater doing here!” A boy — Ravenclaw perhaps — pointed at Malfoy. “Isn’t it convenient that he wasn’t here during the attack? I bet he’s been feeding information to his master — ”
“Stand back, Mitch!” Moody warned. Malfoy stepped forward, pure anger in his eyes.
“Then why the fuck would I leave my son here!” he spat venomously. Hermione stepped in front of him as more joined in and started accusing him.
“Come, Draco,” she murmured, tugging his wrist as Kingsley attempted to calm everyone down. “Let’s get Scorpius.”
Malfoy gave Mitch one more scathing look before looking at her and nodding. He twisted his wrist in her grasp, wrapping his hand around hers and gripping it like a steel vice before pulling her towards the safehouse.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh!! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!! It definitely has some of my favorite scenes. But it broke my heart to put our little Scorp in that situation!
On another note! I’m so excited to share artwork of Scorpius by @meriyart in his gear from Chapter VI!!!! You can check it out on the recent update of Chapter VI or check out Meri’s account here .
Chapter 11: Chapter X
Chapter Text
“Death suddenly shook and tossed in sleep, and the dream vanished.
For a brief moment Death had fallen asleep and dreamt of life.”
— Nikos Kazantzakis (translated by Kimon Friar)
Hermione huffed out an exhausted sigh after putting up the last of the wards on the safehouse. After the attack on Shell Cottage and spending the night at headquarters afterwards, she, Malfoy, and Scorpius were assigned to a safehouse close to a remote town in France. It was smaller and shabbier than the safehouse they usually resided in. It didn’t have a library, but it was snug and usually uninhabited by other Order members. Thankfully, Kingsley decided not to assign anyone else to the location since tensions were still high after the attack. As Kingsley and Moody sorted the mess back at HQ, she and Malfoy were tasked with laying low and doing more internal research for the time being.
Hermione shuddered at the memories from that night — the mutilated bodies of her own friends and the terrified face of Scorpius. Scorpius was still a little shaken up too, more subdued and clingy than usual, but she couldn’t blame the little boy. He seemed more at ease, however, now that they were away from the crowds of people.
She was dusting her shoes in the hallway when she paused. There were sounds coming from the living room. A melody echoed through the sparse space — beckoning her closer. Before she could comprehend what she was doing, her footsteps brought her closer to the sound until she found herself close enough to peek through the doorway.
And there, in the living room, was Draco Malfoy seated before an old maple wood piano that was covered in a fine veil of dust. He seemed too focused to notice her presence as his fingers danced over the keys. The tune he played was one she had not heard before, yet there was something about it that was both familiar and foreign. She watched in a trance as his eyelids fluttered shut and his brows furrowed. The melody started heavy and slow, the notes cold and disjointed as the room echoed with solemn chords striking gently. Then, almost tentatively — as if hesitant — a sweeter, lighter harmony began to unfold, awakening from a long slumbering darkness. The music swelled into a crescendo, taking flight, higher and higher. Then, it stopped — abruptly, like an unfinished question, a prelude to something more.
Hermione stood still, holding her breath as the afternoon light touched his white-blond hair, radiant against the greying walls of the old living room. His pale eyes were open now, glassy — in thought, in concentration, and what looked like… confusion. After a moment, he cocked his head, but when he turned towards the doorway, she was already gone.
***
“What dis, daddy?”
“Erm it seems to be liquid chocolate in a jar.” Hermione suppressed a smile as she gathered some canned goods from the aisle opposite Draco and Scorpius. This was their first time at a muggle grocery. She had relented to bringing them along because, firstly, her French was abysmal while she knew Malfoy was fluent in the language, and secondly, Scorpius started worrying and tearing up when she told him she had to leave for the grocery that day. Bad people, Mini! You not safe!
“It’s a kind of chocolate spread — I’ll grab some,” Hermione said as she reached over and put a jar of Nutella in her basket. “I just need some things from the vegetable section and then we can go.”
Malfoy nodded silently. She had expected him to make comments about being around the muggles, to sneer at their casual clothing and the openness in which they spoke to strangers. His expression was still guarded but she noted his curiosity in the way his eyes darted and brows furrowed when he walked down the aisle of brightly colored plastic packaging and observed the bar codes being scanned. Scorpius’ curiosity was clearer in his wide silver eyes — he turned and pointed, asking questions his father didn’t always know the answer to. The muggles looked at them curiously, but avoided them when they caught Malfoy’s imposing glare.
“ — is roses like Nana’s roses? Like Nana Cissa’s garden?” Hermione looked over, catching the pair before a rack that held packets of seeds. For a moment, Malfoy’s eyes betrayed a hint of both sadness and fondness as he held a packet that displayed red roses on it.
“Yes, just like Nana’s rose garden,” he murmured. Without warning, he placed the seeds in her basket.
When they arrived back at the safehouse, Hermione began unpacking the groceries and organizing them based on categories and then by expiry dates. The process brought her ease, finding a calm rhythm in cataloguing the supplies in perfect order. For a moment, it let her live in the delusion that she had some semblance of control over herself. She was almost finished when she caught sight of two blond heads through the kitchen window.
Outside in the backyard that led to a forest, Draco and Scorpius knelt on the ground and looked expectantly at it. Hermione looked in confusion but her curiosity was relieved by the sight of the empty packet of seeds by their side.
“Is it growing yet, daddy?” Scorpius’ little voice asked. Draco’s brows furrowed, pulling the packet and re-reading the instructions. He cast his wand again, adding more water and waited.
Hermione rolled her eyes, a smile tugging on her lips before she exited through the back door.
“You know, these things take time to grow — it doesn’t happen overnight,” she said once she reached them.
“My mother had rose bushes, Granger,” Malfoy huffed, jutting his chin upwards. “They grew all year round, in different colors even. These muggles seeds are probably bad quality — ”
“I’ll have you know that both muggles and wizarding folk use the same kinds of seeds! In fact, many wizards use seeds cultivated by muggles because they retain their organic properties without being tampered by magic. I would say the only difference is in terms of gardening techniques since wizards can use spells to catalyze and manipulate the growth of their plants. I assume that either your mother or house-elves used such spells?”
Draco frowned but he nodded.
“Mini, how we fix it?” Scorpius pouted, his excitement stifled from the lack of growing plants.
“I’m not that familiar with plant spells… ” Hermione hesitated. Briefly, an image of Neville, talking excitedly about plants flashed through her memory, causing a pang in her chest. “But I know the muggle way of growing plants. We just need to take care and nourish the plant — but most importantly, have patience.”
“We followed all the instructions! How come it’s taking so long!” The bushy-haired little girl scowled as she looked at the barren patch of soil. Her father fondly ruffled her hair, pulling over the watering can and drizzling some water over the patch.
“It takes patience, Hermione dear,” he said.
“Ugh I wish we could use magic or something to make it grow faster!” she exclaimed, prodding the ground with her little finger. The soil was damp and warm, bits of earth clinging to her finger and underneath her nails.
“That would be a convenient ability to have but sometimes you must let things grow in their own time. Putting the time and effort into taking care of something and watching it grow day by day? It’s through that process that we learn to appreciate the simple little things,” he chuckled. “If you used magic maybe you’d have a million flowers sprouting in a second! All beautiful and grand for sure but after a while, how much would you really appreciate them? How much fulfillment would that really bring you? It’s not the end result that matters, it’s the growth along the way. Being a witness to that growth, being a part of that journey from seeing the little seed go through adversity and grow and bloom — that is what I find more beautiful.”
The little girl furrowed her brows, taking her time to process his words.
“To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower…” he began.
“... hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour!” his daughter finished proudly. He smiled at her and pressed his lips to her forehead. They sat in the garden, patiently watching and waiting until the nightingale sang and a warm voice called them inside.
“Okay, will have patientience,” Scorpius responded uncertainly.
Over the next few days, Hermione would look up from her research at eight in the morning and peer out the window to see two Malfoy’s checking on the plant’s progress (or lack thereof) and watering it. Hermione shook her head remembering the debate she and Malfoy had the previous day when he found a muggle botany book in one of the old rooms. He was insistent that the plants needed chemical ‘boosters’ but Hermione had dismissed his claims, insisting that growing them the natural way was the best way. He had simply frowned at her, adjusting his silver-rimmed spectacles and continuing on with his reading, mumbling about bushy-haired swots under his breath.
***
Draco woke from his nap, head still slightly aching but feeling more refreshed. He and Granger had been up all night following a lead using the resources she brought regarding Horcruxes. He got up and out of his room, keeping his steps quiet as he passed the slightly open door of the living room.
“Uhm is is… is an owl!”
“Yes! You’re such a smart boy aren’t you!” Draco rolled his eyes, knowing that Scorpius had been capable of identifying every single animal by heart since the age of one and a half. His little son just liked to impress her, and Draco smirked on his way to the kitchen knowing that the Brightest-Witch-of-Our-Age fell for his little act.
“Daddy?” Draco froze at the sound of his son’s voice in the doorway. “What you eating?”
Draco turned around, swallowing before assembling his face into nonchalance, keeping his hands behind his back. His son sat snugly on Granger’s hip as she had one hand covering her mouth, her guarded look dropping for just a moment.
Scorpius’ eyes narrowed in accusation.
“My chocowates! You’re eating my chocowates!”
Draco tried to keep the dignified look on his face even as his face flushed guiltily.
“I just had one Scorpius,” Draco gritted out, matching his son’s glare. “Remember what I said about sharing?”
His son frowned, little hands balling into tiny fists.
“Just one, daddy?” the little boy’s voice quivered as he raised a brow at his own father. Scorpius’ face was a painful imitation of Draco’s and Hermione couldn’t help but let a bark of laughter escape her.
“ Fine , I had two. But you should share Scorpius. You shouldn’t even be eating all these sweets on your own anyways — they’re not good for you. I don’t even know where you get all of them,” Draco grumbled as he lifted his chin and glared pointedly at Granger who, completely unbothered by it, met his gaze with a cool smirk on her lips.
Scorpius humphed, his gaze unwavering until Draco dropped the bag of sweets in his arms.
“Didn’t look like you were going to share either with the rate at which you were going at those chocolates, Malfoy,” Hermione hummed.
“Malfoys don’t share, Granger,” he intoned smoothly, looking at her beneath his hooded lids. He blinked slowly, “you’ll do well to remember that.”
Hermione’s cheeks heated but she turned away to go back to the living room before he caught her flush. She shook her head, putting her focus back on the little boy babbling in her arms about why he preferred chocolates over candies, ignoring the heavy sensation of eyes on her back.
Chapter 12: Chapter XI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I am fragile and unholy.
Open. Ravage. Eat.”
— Tanaka Mhishi
“ — we have reason to believe it is a weapon of some sort — ”
Hermione’s gaze was unseeing as she scanned the line on her parchment once more. Her mind whirled with the information Moody had just shared. She was overwhelmed — she tried building connections between the segregated pieces of information she had found, but all she reached were dead ends. Even after weeks of research, she had yet to come closer to understanding Voldemort’s next steps to acquire his new vessel. And now, on top of this, she was at a loss with this new weapon he was supposedly working on.
“Bodies of muggles were found around the perimeter of the Ostium Jungle. These bodies were husks. Deformed,” Moody grunted, before taking a swig from his flask.
Murmurs echoed around the room. Hermione’s gaze shifted to the other ten seated at the table for the meeting. Ginny’s fingers unconsciously tapped on the table, Seamus and Dean had their heads bent in quiet conversation, and Kingsley shuffled through his papers with a tired look in his eyes. The rest looked unsettled except for Malfoy who sat still across from her, a blank expression and air of indifference around him.
“As you can see in the parchment handed out,” Kingsley began, quieting the hushed conversations, “we’re planning to send out a team — this team — by the end of this week to scout out what’s been going on.”
The meeting went on for another hour, going over the details and the delegation of tasks. By the time it concluded, people trickled out of the room with weary expressions on their faces. There was once a time where meetings concluded with restless energy and excitement to be a part of a larger purpose. But now, that light was dimmed and all that was left were shades of people who were forced to grow up much more quickly than they had to.
Hermione turned, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.
“Mione, how are you?” Hermione looked up, grinning at the sight of George Weasley. His hair was bright and untamable as flickering flames and his face was freckled in a pattern of familiar constellations. Despite the wicked scar along his jaw and bags under his eyes, his face still held a warmth to it along with the traces of boyish recklessness and mischief.
“Existing,” she said with a half smile. Hermione avoided the lingering looks, particularly those of grey eyes boring into her.
“Come on, let’s have a little catch-up, yeah?” George gave her a lopsided smile and put an arm around her, leading her out the room.
An easy silence slipped between them as they sat under an oak tree behind the safehouse. The air was chilly as dusk descended but Hermione welcomed it, the warmth from the muggle alcohol George had brought already spreading through her body.
“How was Germany?” Hermione asked, feeling pleasantly buzzed.
“Not as well as we hoped,” he said with a grim smile. “We were able to recruit many who had fled Britain early in the war. Most of their families were eventually captured or killed so they no longer had anything to lose. As for their government, they are still reluctant to get involved — too scared of getting dragged in,” he spat.
Hermione frowned and took another sip from the bottle in her hand.
“But enough about this war,” George said, interrupting her thoughts. “Malfoy giving you any trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she smiled at him with reassurance. “His son is the sweetest. Malfoy’s still a git, but he hasn’t come unscathed by this war,” she murmured. The man still kept her on edge. She still didn’t trust him enough to put her guard down, but he made her question some of her assumptions about him.
“Not that you need it, Mione, but I’m here, yeah? If that bastard so much as tries anything, just say the word I’ll be there in a second — with some fire crisps of course to enjoy the show of you beating his pompous arse.” George winked at her and she let out a hearty laugh.
***
“Where Mini, daddy?” Scorpius asked from his place on their bed where he had been playing with his stuffed dragon. Draco stiffened, pausing from reading a report he had been perusing.
“I don’t know, Scorpius. She is busy doing things… with other people,” he replied, leaning back against the headboard and taking a deep breath. Draco hadn’t seen her since the meeting that afternoon when she left with the last Weasley twin. “It’s getting late, Scorpius. Time for bed.”
Scorpius frowned but nodded. Draco pulled back the covers and helped his son get settled in.
“Night, daddy,” Scorpius mumbled, already dozing off.
“Goodnight, Scorpius,” Draco replied, brushing his fingers through the child’s pale locks.
“Night, Mr. Dragon,” the little tot said with a yawn, clutching his toy tightly.
Thankful his son was a heavy sleeper, Draco kept the bedside lamp on so he could continue his work, his tension melting as Scorpius inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, proof that he was here, he was safe, he was alive.
It was just past midnight when he heard a bump followed by a giggle from the hallway. Curious, Draco creaked the door open only to find Hermione Granger drunk , stumbling and giggling in the dim hallway. She was alone, dressed only in those obscene muggle jeans and a tight top, seeming to have lost the jumper she wore earlier. He opened the door wider and stepped into the hallway, carefully shutting it as he went through.
At the soft click she turned around abruptly, face flushed under the moonlight streaming from the window, bringing her features into sharp relief. Her hair was still bound, a few wild curls framing her face. She looked up at him with wide eyes, startled and unguarded. Draco’s gaze flickered to her parted lips, catching the way moonlight shimmered upon them.
“Malfoy, you startled me!” she admonished with one hand on her chest, an eruption of giggles and hiccups following afterwards.
“Easily scared, Granger? So it turns out the Gryffindor Princess is not all that brave after all.” The corner of his lips lifted at her indignant look. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door.
“I’ll have you know, I’m not afraid of you Draco Malfoy,” she said in that swotty tone of hers. “In fact,” she began but was cut off when she hiccuped, “In fact , I have never been afraid of you even when we were kids no matter how much you tried to bully and threaten me!”
The witch turned up her nose, her cheeks dimpling as a smug smile and a triumphant look settled over her face. He merely looked at her and tilted his head, amusement flickering in his features.
“Yes, my broken nose in third year would attest to that,” he said cooly, a pale eyebrow raised.
“Well, you deserved it!” she replied, completely unapologetic. Draco huffed and shook his head.
“Yes, I suppose I did.” Hermione was startled momentarily at his admission before she swayed and caught herself with one hand on the wall. When she recovered, she scowled at the floor and pulled her wand from her pocket. Draco was completely perplexed as he witnessed the Brightest-Witch-of-Their-Age threaten the floorboards for attempting to topple her.
“— nasty ! Horribly rude ! I’ll show you!” Before she could mutter a spell, Draco immediately lunged forward and pulled her wand easily from her grip.
“Hey!” she said angrily. She managed one step towards him before she felt the world tilting forward. Before she knew it, she was hauled into place by a firm hand on her elbow.
Hermione looked up at him to tell she didn’t need his help but instead an uncontrollable laugh left her upon seeing his scowl.
“What?” he asked when she refused to stop giggling.
“You’re always so grumpy! You never smile. I promise you’ll have nasty wrinkles between your brows like poor old Madam Pince,” she said as her shoulders shook with laughter. She barely noticed his hand on the small of her back, guiding to her room.
“Not exactly much to smile about, Granger,” he sighed, ignoring the mention of the Hogwarts librarian. He guided her to sit on her bed but the moment she touched the mattress she flopped backwards, giggling. “Go to bed, Granger. I want to get back to sleep and I can’t do that with you waking up the entire house.”
The witch simply rolled her eyes, kicking her shoes off and pulling her hair loose from its tie. Draco was momentarily distracted by the colossal bush of curls that sprung in every direction.
“Such a shame!” she exclaimed as she snuggled into her pillow.
“What is?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously as he placed her wand on her bedside table.
“That you don’t smile!” she said as if it was obvious. Her lids began to droop.
“And why is that?”
“Oh, because you have such a lovely smile of course.” Draco’s eyes widened as he stood rigidly before her. By the time he recovered, she was fast asleep, a playful smile on her lips.
***
Draco walked patiently down the stairs with Scorpius clutching his hand as he counted each step. “— elven, twelve, three-teen, fourteen, five-teen — ”
The safehouse was quieter now — most members had dispersed in the morning except those who were assigned to the Ostium jungle mission. Despite being used to the glares and tension whenever he walked into a room, Draco felt more at ease now that the house was not as crowded. He and Granger hadn’t really spoken since he found her drunk aside from the cordial greetings in passing. He doubted she even remembered he had helped her to bed.
As they approached the kitchen, he heard Granger’s voice babbling to someone. His footsteps slowed trying to identify the voice. However, Scorpius had other ideas as he yanked his hand out of his father’s grasp and ran into the kitchen calling out to her.
“Oh, hello Scorp! Are you hungry!” Draco just turned into the doorway as she placed a large dish of lasagna in the middle of the kitchen table. Draco noticed Scorpius hadn’t responded and when he looked at his son, he saw him eyeing a man standing next to the table set for four places.
Viktor Krum .
“Draco Malfoy,” the Bulgarian said, rising to shake Draco’s hand. “I hev remembered you very well! I hold many thanks to you for inviting us Durmstrang delegates to the Slytherin table.”
He was tall and built with heavy brows and dark eyes. He still looked very much like he did when Draco last saw him at Hogwarts. From the back of his mind, an image of spinning periwinkle taffeta and a wide smile flashed through his head. Vaguely, he remembered the Weasel’s tantrum at the news of her and Krum dating.
“Krum,” Draco said, giving him a firm handshake.
“Hermy-own was jost telling me that you are her partner. I am very glad you have chosen to change sides,” he said seriously. “And who is this?” Krum said, noticing the blond-haired boy clutching Hermione’s leg.
“Viktor, this is Scorpius, Draco’s son,” the witch said then smiled at Scorpius. “And Scorpius, this is Viktor. He’s a friend of mine.”
Krum gave Scorpius a friendly wave, but Scorpius still looked skeptically at him. There was a pregnant pause before Granger cleared her throat and sat Scorpius on a chair at the table before taking her own.
“Well, I happened to make enough for four. Let’s dig in shall we?” Krum seemed oblivious to the tension as he eagerly sat beside her. Scorpius and Draco sat stiffly in silence as he chatted about the current situation of Bulgaria and how he was visiting England only briefly. Draco observed the ease in which Hermione sat as she conversed with Krum, her shoulders relaxed and a fondness twinkling in her eyes as the Bulgarian brought up happy memories they shared in the past. Draco averted his gaze from the pair, continuing to slice his meal and bring it to his lips in a fluid motion despite the loss of his appetite.
Draco winced for the twentieth time at the atrocious way the bloke butchered Granger’s name. Her-my-own, Herm-own-ninny, Her-my-owny.
“Is Mi-ni !” Scorpius suddenly shouted. The three adults at the table looked perplexed at the child’s outburst.
“Oh, Scorp,” Hermione said with a light laugh, “it’s alright.”
Krum only chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. Immediately, Draco noticed his son’s color go red, brows furrowed tightly and his breathing accelerating. Shit , he cursed. He knew his son was about to have a tantrum.
“Okay, that’s enough for tonight,” Draco said as he scooped his son up in his arms, turning him away from Krum and rubbing circles on his back. “Scorpius is tired, I better put him to bed.”
Hermione, who noticed the tot’s mood, rose from her seat. “I can — ”
“It’s fine, Granger,” Draco said with an unreadable expression. She was about to protest when a large hand landed on her shoulder.
“I think the child is sleepy. Maybe it's best you let Malfoy go,” Viktor said, oblivious to the fact that he was the source of Scorpius’ ire. “Besides, I vos actually wondering if we could have some private time.”
From the periphery of her vision, Hermione noticed Malfoy go rigid. Before she could face him, however, he was gone.
After clearing the plates with the help of Viktor who continued to chat with her, this time about his family, they went out to the back porch. It was a clear night — an array of stars twinkled as the trees swayed gently.
“I kept all your letters, you know,” Viktor said as he joined her by the railing, a fondness in the deep rumble of his voice. “I remember becoming very proficient in translation charms over the summer because I vanted to impress you.”
“Yes, your English did improve quite significantly,” she chuckled.
She hadn’t seen Viktor much over the course of the war, perhaps twice or thrice and only briefly. Deep down she was always grateful for his friendship. He had been her first in many things, such as the first one to actually see her as more than a brain one could copy homework off of. Though Hermione always berated herself for the vain thought, she couldn’t deny that a part of her appreciated Viktor for being the first to see her as someone desirable. He had made her feel pretty and attractive — even when she was such a Know-it-All with wild hair.
“This partnership between you and Malfoy… ”
Hermione blinked at him, waiting for him to continue as he stared off into the night with his brows pinched.
“What about it?” she asked slowly.
“Are you seeing him? As more zen mission partners?” Hermione actually laughed but sobered when she realized he was serious.
“Malfoy and I… ” she began, not knowing how to explain it to Viktor in a way he would understand. Hell, she herself didn’t understand the tentative partnership — truce? Friendship? — between them. “It’s complicated, especially with our past… ”
“I hev heard you are always with him and his son, no?”
Hermione hesitated. “Well, Viktor, he’s not just a mission partner. He and his son are also my assignment and therefore my responsibility.”
Viktor nodded his head slowly, processing the words. Hermione sighed, looking up to stare at the stars only to find the sky obscured. Vaguely, she thought she heard a door shut firmly inside the house, but thought nothing of it as she tried to hear past the rumbling inside her own head.
***
Hermione crept down the stairs, mindful not to wake anyone. Despite the weariness in her bones, she felt restless at the approach of their mission. She felt as if her mind had failed her. After her talk with Viktor, she had spent the last four hours doing last minute research for any more helpful information regarding their mission. Aside from finding out about a natural — but quite weak — anti-Apparition enchantment surrounding the jungle, she was nowhere closer to piecing everything together. More and more she felt like an imposter in her own skin. So many looked to her to figure out the puzzle, be the Brightest-Witch-of-Their-Age. Kings and Moody had not expressed any judgement for her lack of progress, but she could see their disappointment whenever she came up empty handed.
After finishing her glass of water, Hermione put it in the sink. She shut her eyes and bowed her head, gripping the sink’s cool edge. So much was expected from her. So much was needed from her.
“That oaf keeping your bed warm while you’re gone, Granger?” a voice drawled from the doorway. Hermione’s head snapped up. In the reflection of the kitchen window, she saw the broad form of Draco Malfoy looming in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me?” she asked in a calm voice. Since they had moved to HQ, he had been distant, his eyes often glazed from occluding. She had assumed it was due to the crowds, but as the numbers dwindled, he remained cold.
“Didn’t take you as one of the types who used sleeping around as a coping mechanism for war — ” A jinx caught Draco’s shin, turning it into jelly and causing him to drop to one knee. He clutched it with a hiss, glaring up at the wand pointed at him. Quickly, he reversed the jinx and walked over to the seething witch, towering over her.
“I wont tolerate your bullshit, Malfoy. Have I made myself clear?” Her arm was steady as she continued to point her wand at his face. “What I do and who I do it with is none of your fucking business. So what if I was with someone? It does not impede my duties and performance as a member of the True Order. I still uphold my responsibilities and duty to my assignments — ”
“ Assignments ,” he laughed coldly, a cruel sneer settling over his features. “Of course. How unfortunate that you’ve been assigned to Scorpius and I — ”
“What the fuck are you on about!”
Suddenly, her eyes widened, wand arm faltering as it dawned on her that he may have heard her earlier conversation with Krum.
“Don’t deny that we’re just another one of your duties as an Order member,” he spat. “If you are just going to treat this partnership as an assignment then I suggest you stop playing around with my son and confusing him!”
“What the fuck — ”
“He’s getting attached, Granger! Don’t be fucking stupid! If you’re just going to treat him like another one of your tasks on your checklist to save the world and make yourself feel better then I suggest you stop acting like his mother — ”
Draco’s head whipped to the side as a crack resounded through the kitchen. Hermione’s palm stung, her breathing harsh. Rage filled every fiber of her being. But deep down, she felt a sickening in her stomach. She blinked rapidly, trying to relieve the stinging in her eyes. How fucking dare he . She – she never meant to. She never meant to cross boundaries or act like — fuck .
Slowly, Malfoy turned his head back. His eyes were empty and impassive now. The corner of his lip bled but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“I never — I never meant to overstep any boundaries or…” she swallowed and averted her gaze. “Yes, you and Scorpius are my assignment but I wouldn’t treat… anyone so callously. I – I care for your son.”
Malfoy’s face was still blank but, eventually, he nodded. “I apologise. I went too far with what I said.” It was his turn to look away. His jaw clenched. “Everything has been a lot lately, especially with everyone around. I didn’t… I didn’t mean what I said. You can do whatever you want obviously.”
She looked at him curiously then accepted his apology. Malfoy nodded, still avoiding her eyes as he turned to leave.
“There’s no one in my bed right now. Just to be clear,” she blurted out, not knowing what came over her. Malfoy paused, completely still. For a moment, all there was was silence, except for the rhythmic dripping of water from the tap.
“Have you slept with him before?” The question caught her off guard. She stared dumbfounded at his profile before remembering to reply.
“Yes. Once .” His face turned towards hers. She could feel his piercing stare on her, but she chose to shift her gaze. “I lost my virginity to him during Bill and Fleur’s wedding before the war fully broke out. I – I wanted to have one last moment to feel like a normal teenager before the boys and I left… But that was the only time. We’ve been just friends ever since.”
Malfoy remained silent.
“A grain of your accusation was right,” Hermione said bitterly. “After – after Harry and Ron, I turned to sex as a coping mechanism, as a distraction from the war.”
“Who?”
“Just two. George Weasley and a muggle. The muggle was only a one time thing. But with George it was erm… more frequent. After the battle, after Ron left, I felt abandoned. I needed a distraction from everything. But that’s all it was — a distraction. Temporary. It did nothing to fill the void in my life. I eventually ended it. I’m not ashamed of my past — there is no shame in those who need that kind of relief as a coping mechanism for the war.” Her eyes were unseeing. She shrugged. “It’s just not for me. Not anymore.”
“Weasley?”
Hermione chuckled humorlessly.
“Yes, well both of us were left devastated after the battle. He had lost his twin brother and I had lost a brother of my own. We both lost Ron. All we had then was each other and our pain.” She swallowed, tasting bile in her throat upon remembering what life was like, what she was like those months after the battle. “We eventually decided to end it after a couple of months. We never saw ourselves going for anything more. We just happened to be both hurting and there for each other. Now, we’re nothing more than friends.
“Then, I slept with a muggle who didn't know about the war or Hermione Granger. But all it did was confirm that using sex to escape from my problems wasn’t making me feel any better.”
Hermione finally looked up at him and found his expression inscrutable. After a pause, he gave her a curt nod then turned to exit the doorway before he stopped.
“Are you sleeping with anyone now?” There was another moment of tense silence before he looked over his shoulder, his face half-cast in shadow, half-cast in light.
“No.”
Almost imperceptibly, the hard lines of his face seemed softened before he nodded once more, bidding her goodnight. Upon finally being alone in the kitchen, Hermione released a shaky breath and eased the grip of her fingers around her wand.
Notes:
A/N: Yay, two chapters for you guys this weekend! A little bit more angsty but we’re diving deeper into both their wounds. Also, thank you desireepow1986 for bouncing off ideas with me regarding Hermione and George, as well as the scene where Hermione slaps Draco because of the fight regarding her acting like Scorp’s mother. I hope you guys enjoy these two chapters and thank you all so much for all the lovely comments!!
Chapter 13: Chapter XII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“ — and yet her name was like a summons
to all my foolish blood.”
— James Joyce
Sunlight slipped through the slivers between the wooden boards that walled the shack. Despite looking dilapidated and small on the outside, the inside was spacious enough to hold a dozen Order members. Draco looked around, noting a single small room in addition to the kitchen that seemed to also function as a living room.
“The scouts have mapped the area just a few miles west of our location. You already have your groups and know the protocols. Each pair of partners has one emergency portkey that will bring you back to HQ. As Hermione discovered, this jungle has some natural, but very weak, anti-Apparition wards. It’s still possible to Apparate with a lot of focus but there is a high chance it won't take you to the accurate location and an increased risk of splinching — hence we do not recommend it. We will reconvene at this shack which has some basic medical supplies. For any severe wounds, take the portkey straight to headquarters,” said an ex-Auror Draco didn’t recognize. She handed out the portkey coins wrapped in cloth to each pair, a severe look on her face when she passed him and dropped the coin in Granger’s hands.
“Thank you, Anja. You all know the plan. Find what you can,” Moody said gruffly.
The rest of the team dispersed to prepare. Granger stayed behind talking to Moody and Anja, who was appointed lead for the mission. Outside, Draco took a moment to adjust his boots and shield cloak. The mission wasn’t meant to last longer than half of the day but he had told Scorpius (who was left with Watson at HQ) to expect him the next day.
“Need a hand with that?” A blonde witch approached him as he began tightening the wand holster on his arm. He vaguely recognized her from Hogwarts, a Slytherin perhaps. Lately, the Order members seemed less hostile towards him. Although they were still wary, gradually they came to grudgingly accept his presence. They continued to keep their distance however, which Draco preferred anyways.
“No thank you,” he said, looking back at what he was doing. When he realized she was still standing there he looked up at her impassively. Irritation started to spread through him when she said nothing and continued blushing.
“I’m Corin by the way. I was a Slytherin but a year younger than you back at Hogwarts,” she said shyly, looking up at him through her lashes. Draco simply stared at her blankly, not knowing what to do with the information. “Well, I know what it’s like being a Slytherin in the True Order. It can be quite lonely. So if… erm… you ever needed some company — ” Her hand reached out but Draco flinched, pulling back instinctively before she could make contact. She seemed to read the hostility in his eyes and pulled her hand back immediately.
“Malfoy!” Draco relaxed and turned towards the firm irritated voice.
“Yes, Granger?” he drawled, his lips tilting upward at the sight of her scowl. Her brown eyes flickered between him and the girl.
“If you’re done here, I thought we could go over some details for our part of the mission.”
“Of course,” he replied smoothly. The bushy-hair witch sniffed and turned away. Draco shook his head and followed her back inside the shack.
“She’s a Slytherin right? Did you know her before?” Hermione asked nonchalantly while they examined the layout of the area. Draco paused, looking at her from underneath his lashes. She was still concentrating on the parchment before them, making little notes here and there.
“Yes, she was a Slytherin but a year younger. I didn’t know her. She said her name is Coral or something,” he shrugged.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Corin ,” she corrected, still not looking up at him. However he noticed the edges of her lips twitch when he simply grunted in response. Uninterested in continuing the conversation, Draco resumed studying the map.
***
It was humid in the jungle. Sweat trickled down Hermione’s neck as she and Malfoy walked through the vines and brambles. Hermione felt flushed and bloated. She continually cast Cooling Charms on herself and although they gave her relief from the heat, they still left her sticky and irritated. She glared at Malfoy’s neck, noticing that he wasn’t affected by the humidity. Benefits of being cold-blooded , she huffed inwardly.
“We should be reaching the pit in a couple of meters,” Malfoy said as he turned to look at her.
Hermione was wiping the sweat off her forehead with her wrist then paused when she felt his eyes on her. If it was even possible, she flushed even more knowing what kind of state she was in. Without even looking, she knew her hair had grown in the humidity — she could almost feel her hair tie straining, close to snapping. She peeked up at him and caught his grey eyes flickering down to her chest briefly before he averted his gaze and cleared his throat as a soft pink tinged his cheeks. Hermione’s brows furrowed. She looked down then noticed her white top was drenched with sweat and sticking to her chest, leaving little to the imagination. Quickly, she cast a Drying Charm on herself and another Cooling Charm as a renewed wave of heat spread through her body.
“Erm yes, should be up ahead,” she coughed out as she walked past him to hide her embarrassment. He made no comment, instead silently followed her.
They kept their guard up as they continued walking but did not meet any threats from the wild life. Large orange beetles buzzed across them lazily, beating their tiny wings hard to keep their round bodies in flight. Occasionally, they were watched with curiosity by tiny lizard-like creatures that bore silver eggs that shimmered on their backs. Unlike the forests she had visited before, the Ostium Jungle seemed to constantly be in full song. Birds with peach-colored feathers that shifted to a turquoise color in the amber sunlight fluttered above them, spreading their song from tree to tree. The harmonies swelled all around her along with the heavy beat of hooves from the very heart of the jungle.
“I believe it’s up ahead,” Malfoy pointed out as they approached a large circle of rocks. They crept closer, wands ready. Once they reached a rock large enough to shield them both, they peeked over the edge. True enough, below the rocks was the pit on their maps. Hermione looked closer when she noticed something odd with the ground — it seemed to be moving. Her eyes widened and gasped.
“It’s a snake pit,” Malfoy murmured, as if reading her thoughts. The floor of the pit was covered in earth colored snakes, slithering and tangling amongst themselves. Something caught their attention however. Along the shadowed areas of the pit, there seemed to be large clumps writhing.
“Over there,” Hermione pointed, “what are those?”
As if in answer, one of the lumps raised its head. Two clawed arms stretched as a pained hiss emitted from it. Hermione drew back as the light hit what looked like a snake-humanoid creature. Its body was covered in greenish-black and silver scales. They still had limbs but their legs seemed to have merged to form a membranous tail. Their noses melted into slits, their eyes gleaming an acid yellow. Some still had hair and patches of human flesh, while others were completely covered in scales.
“ Godric , what have they done…” Hermione choked out in horror. Malfoy looked pale as more of the creatures moved.
Along the borders of the pit, Hermione caught sight of the other groups in place. Their instructions were to retrieve samples and destroy the weapon, whatever it was.
Draco pointed to one of the creatures that was writhing in pain. He seemed to still have most of his human flesh intact, but he clawed at it, tearing it like snakeskin to reveal gleaming scales underneath.
“This must be the weapon they’ve been experimenting on over here,” Draco pondered out loud. “It would explain the bodies found along the perimeter of the jungle. They don’t seem ready for battle however.” True enough, many of the creatures looked unstable, some with blood oozing out their scales and others sinking talons into their own skulls.
“They don’t seem to be controllable. If there’s one thing the Dark Lord values when it comes to his servants, it's control,” he said darkly. Hermione silently agreed. These creatures left in the pit looked like failed experiments. A chill shivered down her spine wondering what the perfected version would look like. Their best bet was to extract samples so they could at least prepare for some kind of antidote or counter weapon should the perfected version be used in battle.
After waiting a couple of moments, a hand-sized phoenix made out of red light landed before them. The signal .
All at once, ropes shot from various wands, tying up the creatures. The hissing increased as they struggled. Four pairs, including Hermione and Draco, conjured rappelling ropes secured to the north, south, east, and west of the pit while the other groups stood guard.
The groups began to descend into the pit using the ropes, trying to stupefy the moving snakes, but there were too many of them. Draco cursed from below Hermione as a viper jumped in their direction. He sent a well timed confringo , blasting the snake to bits.
“Granger, Malfoy,” Anja called out as they both landed on a rock. The other pairs had managed to find either a ledge or boulder to keep them away from the snakes. “The closest creature is a couple of feet from you both. We’ll watch your backs while you levitate the creature to the team above.”
Draco and Hermione acknowledged the command. They pointed their wand towards the creature — it was the one with the most human flesh intact. The pair first tried stunning spells but it did nothing to immobilize it. It continued hissing and gnashing its fangs when they decided to start levitating it upwards.
Hermione grunted as they steadily lifted the creature in the air. They had it five feet above their heads when suddenly the ropes that bound it snapped, giving it the freedom to roll away from the aim of their wands and lunge in their direction. Instinctively, Draco and Hermione split when the creature fell where they were standing.
“Granger, behind you!” Hermione rolled out of a way as a particularly large python shot in her direction. Rattling and hissing invaded her ears as she shot spells blindly at the serpents coming her way. The other groups tried to help them keep the snakes back, but they kept coming.
A scream pierced the air as one of the other creatures broke loose of their ropes and grabbed Corin by the leg. Hermione immediately lept into action, sending a well aimed Slicing Hex that cut off the creature’s scaled arm. It let out an inhuman shriek, still alive, but its distraction was enough for Corin to crawl away.
“Corin! Get back!” Hermione growled, pulling the girl back to her feet. They stumbled backwards trying to get away from the livid creature whose arm started growing back.
Fire licked across the sides of the pit, as the team above tried to hold the snakes at bay. They had to be careful however so as not to burn their teammates.
“Get out! Now!” Anja commanded. Chaos broke across the pit, flames and ice trying to hold masses of serpents and creatures back, most of whom had broken free of their ropes. With all the chaos, it was too risky to pause and activate the portkeys. Additionally, many of the pairs had been separated, leaving half the team without portkeys should they not find someone who did.
Hermione hauled herself up on a rock and pulled Corin up afterwards to join her. “Here, go!” The witch handed the wounded girl one of the rappelling ropes, urging her to climb up while she watched her back. Corin did as instructed as Hermione blasted another group of serpents to pieces. She caught a flash of Draco Malfoy sending a blast of ice at a creature, sticking it to the wall. Malfoy shot another spell just before a hand shot out from a ledge hauling him upwards.
After quickly scanning the pit and seeing everyone safely evacuating, Hermione went to climb up the rope but noticed from the corner of her eye a creature still bound. She knew it was her only opportunity — going in blind when Voldemort attacked was too much of a risk, especially when she knew what the snake-humanoid creatures were capable of.
She made her choice. Hermione lunged off the rock then ran, shielding herself with spell after spell, ignoring the shouts from above. Suddenly, a wall of fire blocked her path.
“Granger, get the fuck back!” Malfoy stood on the ledge, wand raised and eyes livid. As if in answer, a peal of thunder shook the air and rain began to pour, extinguishing the flames. Hermione took the opportunity to make her way again towards the bound creature, blasting back the others that came her way. If she could just get to it and Apparate, no matter how displaced the apparition would be, as long as it was out of the pit, it would be enough.
She almost reached the creature when out of nowhere she was knocked to the ground by a hard body. Hermione made to blast the attacker but upon catching the white-blond hair, paused. Malfoy let out a hiss from on top of her, his body going rigid then starting to spasm. Icy raindrops dripped from his chin onto her cheek as his face contorted in pain. It was only then that she noticed one of the creatures fallen on the spot she had been, blood dripping from its mouth. She didn’t have to look at Malfoy’s leg to know that it was his blood.
“Stupid… Gryffindor…” he grunted.
Hermione didn’t have enough time to panic over his wound before the creature that had attacked them recovered and turned towards them. She lifted her wand, straining and pulling on every ounce of her magic. Her magic swelled and struck, turning the rain pelting against the creature into ice daggers. The creature let out an agonized scream as thousands of shards of ice pierced its body. Hermione’s arm shook and she knew she couldn’t hold it any longer. Before she knew it, she felt herself and Malfoy being lifted off the ground.
“Malfoy, Granger, don’t move!” Anja shouted against the rain. Hermione looked up and saw half a dozen wands pointed towards them, trying to lift them up while the others shielded them from the serpents and creatures. She tried not to look down as she felt herself going higher and higher. The ascent was shaky and to keep balance, she clung on to Malfoy who was going in and out of consciousness.
Finally, they were dropped to the ground outside of the pit. Hands began lifting Malfoy off of her, and pulling her upright.
“What the fuck, Granger!” Anja’s furious face met hers as she got on her wobbly feet. Before she could respond, however, a commotion erupted from where Malfoy was brought. She and Anja looked over, only to see the rest of the team circled, their wantds pointing threateningly at Malfoy who was now standing at the center. Another man lay on the ground outside of the circle as if he had been pushed.
“What’s going on!” Anja demanded. As Hermione got closer, she noticed greenish-silver scales beginning to appear in patches on Malfoy’s pale skin. Fangs protruded from his mouth and his eyes turned into a bright yellow. He growled, swiping with long clawed hands at members who attempted to come closer.
Fuck .
“He was bitten by one of those things! He’s gone rogue! Thankfully we were able to get his wand!” a man answered.
“Everyone stun him!” Anja shouted. Hermione screamed in protest, knowing it would only make things worse, but she was unable to stop the blast of red light. She pushed her way into the circle, finding Malfoy on his knees but not stunned. He looked more livid as he lunged at some of them, easily dodging their spells. Hermione saw someone aim a curse at his back and she erected a shield.
“ Stop! ” she protested, keeping her shield up.
“Hermione he’s gone — ”
“There’s still a chance! Attacking him with spells will only make it worse!” Hermione put down her shield but continued to keep her wand raised and aimed it towards the members around the circle. She stared down each one of them and they looked back at her incredulously as if she was mad, and perhaps she was. “When poison enters the bloodstream, it only spreads faster with adrenaline because of the accelerated blood flow. We need to keep him calm if we don't want the poison to spread quickly!” An angry hiss drew her attention to Malfoy who was clutching his calf but still staring dangerously at the people around them.
“Malfoy,” she said gently. At her voice, his attention shifted to her. His brows creased as his slitted pupils zeroed in on her. “Malfoy it’s me, Hermione. Hermione Granger.”
Hermione lifted both her hands in surrender and slowly turned to face him completely.
“Hermione — ” she heard George protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“Draco,” she began again, keeping eye contact with him. A war broke out across his features. He shook his head, screwing his eyes shut before groaning in pain. His body shuddered then arched as he staggered to full height. Before she could stop him, he clawed at himself, tearing off more skin and leaving silver and green scales gleaming in patches along his cheek, neck, and arms. “Draco, I’m here to help you.”
Hermione took a few tentative steps forward. She froze when his head snapped up, his eyes flitting between silver and yellow. There was a predatory set to his features, a danger defined in the cold cruel beauty of his marred scaled flesh that should have scared her, should have repulsed her.
“Come, Draco,” she said softly, extending her hand towards him. A moment passed before Malfoy shakily lifted one of his clawed hands, taking her smaller one in his own. He staggered forward until he was looming over her. Raindrops dripped across his silver scales, making them shine like silver coins. His hair was matted, dirt and blood smeared across his pale skin.
His head dipped towards hers and she felt his breath against her cheek — cold — followed by the faint graze of his fangs against her jaw, oddly gentle, eliciting goosebumps along her shoulder. He shook with restraint when Hermione lifted her other hand. Slowly, she looped her arm around his shoulders. Her fingers trembled once she made contact with his ice-cold skin. She felt a shudder go through him at her touch. Suddenly, his arms automatically locked around her, clutching her against him like a vice.
“Hermione,” he breathed against her ear.
Before she could process what was happening, she felt as if she was being sucked into a vacuum and before she knew it, she was in the shack. She was startled at the sudden Disapparition — the strength of Draco’s wandless magic, likely heightened by his condition. Still finding her bearings, Hermione found herself stepping away from him to balance herself, but a growl rumbled in his chest before he pulled her back against him.
“Hermione, I — I can’t,” he gritted out, clutching her closer as his head lulled on to her shoulder.
“I know, I know. We’ll figure it out — you’ve got to trust me, okay?” she said shakily as she slowly untangled herself from him and accio ’d a bottle of Draught of Living Death that she knew was kept in the supplies. “I need you to drink this.”
Draco only nodded, still grimacing and fighting for control. Hermione uncorked the bottle and tipped it in his mouth. After a good gulp, he began to stagger. Hermione cast a quick Feather-Light Charm on him and dragged him into the room, laying him on the narrow bed. She quickly cast a diagnostic charm on him, her own heart beating rapidly and her mind racing as it tried to organize what she needed to do to cure him. His eyes were drooping, but he kept trying to fight the potion, trying to keep his eyes on her.
“Sleep, Draco. I’ll be here when you wake,” she said breathlessly. This seemed to satisfy him and he shut his eyes, finally surrendering to a death-like sleep.
Upon the draught taking full effect, Hermione immediately cast a special kind of stasis spell that she had learned from a healer to stop the venom from spreading. Afterwards, she conjured a patronus to deliver a message to Kingsley and Anja, updating them on the situation. She reassured them that everything was fine and she had it handled, requesting only a couple of supplies so she could develop an antidote. She warned them not to enter the shack and that she still had her portkey in case of an emergency. Once she quickly got Draco out of his wet clothes and only in his underwear, she let her mind take over, numbing her emotions. She pulled out a syringe and began extracting the venom from his leg. He wouldn't end up like Harry — she refused to do nothing while he lost himself, lost control of his own body and mind. Because he came back for her, and he was her responsibility. Her… partner. Scorpius’ face came to her mind then, the playful innocence broken by the loss of another parent. No. She would save him .
Notes:
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this!! Writing action scenes is so hard!! I used to be disappointed as a reader when writers skip over the action scenes but now being on their side of things I get it. But anyways, in the spirit of October, here is some creature!Draco content! Also thank you so much for your comments and overwhelming love and support!!! It really makes my day and I love reading them. Although sometimes I have no time to reply, I read and savor every single one of them!
Chapter 14: Chapter XIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“The night has fallen, the first stars are lit,
the heart grows hungry, I don’t want to die.”
— Nikos Kazantzakis (translated by Kimon Friar)
Hermione dabbed the beads of sweat dripping from her brow with a small towel. She stirred the cauldron three times clockwise then two times counterclockwise, watching the potion turn from a dirty grey to a forest green. Briefly, she glanced out the window — the rain had simmered into a soft patter, leaving behind a pale fog as the day descended into twilight.
After double checking her notes, she carefully put two drops of the venom into the mix. Instantly, the potion hissed, eliciting a smell of sour grapes and smoke. Once the potion settled, she reached for her beaded bag and took a clear vile of phoenix tears. They had been extremely rare to come by and were meant to be used in emergency situations. Without hesitating, she poured one drop into the cauldron. Hermione let out a shaky exhale when the substance turned into a clear glassy green.
While Draco had remained unconscious, she had broken down the components of the venom. Anja had quickly deposited the supplies and books she needed, as well as her beaded bag. She wasn’t sure if her theories would work, especially with her limited ingredients. Luckily, she and Draco had been right when they deduced that whatever was used on those creatures wasn’t perfected. The venom itself had not been able to properly transform the human cells, thus making it easier to create an antidote that isolated the venom and destroyed it.
After bottling the antidote, she went to check on Malfoy’s leg. His body was still in a stasis, halting the spreading venom in his veins, but he seemed to grow paler and paler as if he was marble, an eternal sleep like those fairytales her mother would read to her as a child. Focusing on his vital signs glowing above him, she distractedly applied some dittany on her hands that were now blistered and rubbed raw from her hours of non-stop working.
Satisfied with his body temperature, Hermione lifted the bandage on his leg, examining his skin. She had had to carve out the section of flesh where he was bitten because his skin was too far gone, almost entirely made out of serpent scales. There were a couple of small pus-filled boils on her hands from when she had carved out the flesh with a magical blade. She had easily sensed the dark magic seeping from the wound and when a whitish liquid from the bite had touched her skin, it had immediately burned her hand, leaving those boils. Thankfully, no scales had regrown from his flesh but she knew it wouldn’t be the case for long.
Carefully, she propped the unconscious Draco up into sitting position and poured the antidote between his bloodless lips. Upon making sure he got it down, she cast a Diagnostic Charm to monitor the effects of the antidote. To her relief, his body temperature was increasing and his fangs were shrinking.
A couple minutes later, after she gently put him back down and re-applied a salve to reknit the skin on his leg, he began to stir. Almost instantly, his stirring escalated into thrashing as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Hermione tried to hold him down but he easily broke from her grasp.
“Draco!” she yelled when he yanked his wrist free. She had anticipated that his body would fight against the antidote but there was nothing she could do except make sure he didn’t hurt himself in the process.
Hermione gasped when two hands shot out and roughly grabbed her shoulders as Draco bolted upright, pulling her close until they were eye level. His eyes had returned to a pale grey but his pupils were still slitted inhumanly. Though he looked right at her, his eyes were unseeing as his face twitched and he hissed menacingly, causing fear to shoot through her. She wasn’t sure how in control he was as his body underwent an internal war.
“Is the little lioness scared?” he crooned, a morbid smile flitting over his features as he continued to twitch and snarl. A hand gently snaked around her neck and she felt the rapid beat of her heart in her throat as he squeezed softly. “Looks like the little lioness got herself tangled up with a serpent,” he whispered, dipping his head until his nose grazed the underside of her jaw.
“Draco, give in to the antidote! Stop fighting it!”
“I wonder,” he continued, pulling back slightly, but still keeping his grip secure. His hand around her neck was firm, keeping her in place, but did not block her airways, “how much it kills you not to know the whole truth. Your defense is always up in front of me and it kills you doesn’t it? Not knowing how far I’ve gone, how many lines I’ve crossed in order to survive,” he said in a lilting voice and fevered eyes.
His face was waxy and it stretched over his fine features into a sharp wicked smile. “Go on, Granger, ask me. Ask me what I've done. Ask me how I did it.”
Hermione shuddered at the cold breath that caressed her ear. “What — what have you done?”
“All those stories in the papers, the whispering between the Order members, they are children’s stories to what I’ve seen and done,” he sneered.“I was the Dark Lord’s hound. Do you know what that means? Do you know how I was able to climb the ranks and gain the Dark Lord’s trust? It’s because I did not hesitate, I did not feel remorse. I obeyed every single command to would hunt, capture, and torture muggles and mudbloods just like you.”
Hermione shivered at his admission, her own mudblood scar burning on her arm. And yet there was something else in his voice she could not place, the hatred behind the slur not made of hate towards another. No, it was one she recognized — the hate towards oneself.
“Tell me,” he began again, looking at her intently underneath his pale lashes, “does this make me a monster? That I feel no remorse? No regret? That I would do it again, especially if it meant my family and I would get out alive?”
His grip started to ease, finally releasing her before he fell back on the bed as if he had been truly spent, as if there was nothing left inside of him. She watched as his body slowly relaxed, the remaining scales crusting and peeling off his skin.
Her fingers were still trembling at his confession. But instead of fear, a dark broken part from the pit that resided inside of her chest called back. All at once, every thought and feeling erupted from the cages she locked them in, forcing her to look at every part of the distorted image of the woman that looked back at her in the mirror — the parts of her capable of choosing one life over the other, the parts of her capable of reducing human beings into numbers and figures, into plans and protocols, necessities for some greater good. In the earlier parts of the war, she had consoled herself in the fact that she had never directly taken a life by her wand. But, what was the difference when she left the enemy, just as human as she was, in the wreckage of her experiments, bleeding from unleashed anger and likely to die alone in the battlefield from the injuries her curses caused. Who had she become? How had it suddenly become so easy to no longer feel, not even anger, revenge. Remorse. What made her any different, made her any more innocent when she too had to, and continued to, claw her way out if it meant another day of survival?
“We’re all monsters,” she whispered once his eyes finally shut, “not all of the same kind but we are.”
She stared at his sleeping form a minute longer before she toppled on her knees, emptying her stomach.
***
Hermione’s head snapped up at the sound of pained groaning and rustling. She blinked, the hazy room coming into focus under the dying candlelight on the bedside table. Draco , she realized with a jolt. She had dozed off on the floor beside the bed sometime during the night.
“ — no , I don’t want to, I don’t — ” Hermione cursed upon seeing Draco thrashing and clawing at his skin. She had been monitoring him well into the night when her exhaustion finally hit her. The antidote seemed to have worked — where the scales once were was now replaced with pink flesh. His fangs and claws had retracted completely and returned to their normal state.
A pained groan escaped his lips again while Hermione tried to pull his hands back from clawing at his bandages. “I don’t know them! Just make it stop! I can’t I can’t — ”
“Draco!” she said desperately. He had not awakened once since he had blacked out after his lucid moment. She gripped his wrists tightly to stop his frantic movements, his skin hot underneath her palms. She noticed his face was flushed and his limp hair was matted with sweat. Sighing in relief that his fever had broken, Hermione conjured a cool rag and laid it on his forehead.
“Shh it’ll all be over soon,” she murmured. Draco’s body sagged, the tension uncoiling as she conjured more cool rags. A moment later his lids lifted slightly, dark dilated eyes zeroing in on her beneath damp lashes.
“Granger… Granger... Hermione...” he mumbled incoherently, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It’s not her… I don’t know her…” Draco babbled under his breath, writhing in distress. Hermione double checked that he didn’t rip his bandages and then pulled the blanket tighter over his bare torso.
“Calm down. You’re alright. Get some rest,” she tried to explain, but he kept breathing harshly. Without thinking, she brushed the matted locks on his forehead as she mentally went through a list of potions she would need should his hallucinations escalate.
“Granger!” He shot up, almost knocking her over. His eyes were blown wide open, his hands gripping her forearms, surely to leave bruises. “You need to get out! Bellatrix will be back! I can’t, I can’t — ”
Hermione froze. He was remembering the night at Malfoy Manor. Her scar throbbed and a memory of Malfoy surfaced — Malfoy staring impassively as she spasmed again and again at his feet. Her dark blood spilling on the polished white marble floors, electricity frying her veins, and a high-pitched cackle echoing in morbid symphony with her screams. Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood .
Come, Draco. A woman with white-blond hair, fine features, and cold eyes said. A pale boy with a blank stare, one hand gripping his wand until his knuckles were blue and the other in the woman’s hand. Come, Draco .
“Granger! You need to get out! He’ll kill my family! I can’t — ” Draco said hoarsely, bringing her out of the memory. It was done — she had survived. She had made it out.
“Hush, Draco,” she said, finally steeling herself. “It’s all over. We escaped.” His brows furrowed before he sagged in relief.
Once she settled him back down again, she stood up, intending to go make herself a cup of tea in the kitchen to give herself something to focus on instead of the roaring in her blood.
She had only managed to turn when a feverish hand clamped around her wrist. Hermione turned back incredulously to find Draco’s eyes on her, looking furious. His body was tense and his attempts to stay awake were causing a vein to tick on his temple.
“Granger… Hermione… I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t,” he managed. When he refused to let her wrist go, Hermione sat on the bed again, at a loss at what to do.
“… stay… please,” he murmured drowsily, still fighting his lids to stay open. He then tugged her wrist firmly and shifted on the narrow bed. After a moment, compelled by some unknown force, Hermione kicked off her shoes and cautiously climbed under the covers. He immediately relaxed, tension leaving his face and body except in the firm warm hand around her wrist.
Because he held such a tight grip, she had no choice but to face him. Her pulse sped up at the proximity, the warmth radiating from his bare chest settling into her rattling bones. Seeming to sense her uncertainty, he pulled her closer until her nose grazed his bare shoulder. He relaxed at the contact, a deep breath leaving his lips and ghosting the shell of her ear like a warm caress.
Hermione blinked, her heart rate finally steadying to the rhythm of his thumb grazing her inner wrist. The candle light seemed to dim further on its own accord and her exhaustion finally caught up with her. Before she surrendered to sleep, she heard a faint murmur in her ear.
“I’m sorry.”
***
The easy chirping of birds trickled in from the bedside window causing Draco to stir. He shut his eyes tightly, burrowing his head into something warm and soft that smelt like fresh flowers on a cold morning. His mind felt clearer — he hadn’t felt this relaxed in so long. His leg and torso no longer burned and it no longer felt like ice burned through his veins. He had vague memories of what happened after he had run after Granger and tackled her to the ground when the creature lept for her. All he could remember was the pain of its incisors tearing into his skin, ripping his flesh apart as liquid fire entered his veins. The loss of his control — rage, desperation, brown eyes, a warm touch on his shoulder, fingers brushing his forehead, a steady pulse beneath his thumb, and a name, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione pounding in his ears.
We’re all monsters, not all of the same kind but we are.
Draco frowned, still keeping his eyes shut as he pulled the warmth closer, spreading his palms and pressing himself closer to it as he breathed out in contentment. All of a sudden, the warmth from beneath him grew rigid and shot out of his arms. Bewildered, Draco opened his bleary eyes and blinked at a mass of curly hair and owlish eyes staring back.
Shit .
“Granger?” he croaked.
Fuck .
“You probably don’t remember, but in your delirious state you — ”
Draco tried to sit up but winced, clutching his head as his earlier ease immediately vanished. He heard a scuttle and the clinking of bottles before cool glass was pressed to his lips and a brown sludge like substance was forced down his throat. It tasted like mud and rotting eggs. He would have spit it out if it weren’t for the immediate relief it brought him.
After managing to get the disgusting potion down, he kept his eyes shut, letting the potion dull his headache. He could feel the throb, but it was no longer a heavy pounding.
“How do you feel?” a tentative voice asked. He opened his eyes fully now, taking in his surroundings and recognizing the shack. He looked up at the witch who was now changing his bandages.
“Alright,” he rasped. There was a moment of silence as she reapplied paste on his scars. He simply watched her, leaning back against the headboard and taking the time to sort his memories.
“You were stupid out there,” he muttered.
Hermione paused her ministrations, her cheeks reddening. He expected to see a fight in her eyes but when she finally looked at him, all he saw was guilt.
“I know,” she said, averting her gaze. “I saw an opportunity and the risk seemed worth it.”
“Worth your life?” he asked, angry now.
She simply shrugged her shoulders, her eyes distant.
“From the venom I extracted from you I was able to make an antidote,” she replied in that clinical voice he hated so much. “I’ve already sent Kingsley and Moody the samples and my report. Of course, this may not be the variation they will be using but at least we’re prepared — ”
A cold hand gripped her elbow, forcing her to face him. He was sitting fully upright now, jaw ticking and glaring at her.
“We’re supposed to be partners , Granger,” he said with a deadly calm. “You can’t go running off being reckless ,” he hissed.
Hermione looked at his pale exhausted face. He was right. She not only risked her life, but his.
“You’re right….” she sighed. “It was foolish of me.”
Draco schooled his surprise at her easy admission and simply nodded, prying his hands off of her and lying back down. Hermione resumed her checkup on him, casting a diagnostic spell and jotting down some notes.
“How are your headaches? Do you remember anything from last night?”
Draco’s brows furrowed. “I have flashes of memories before I Disapparated. Then when you gave me the antidote, my memories are clearer. Our fight… Before I passed out… But after that I…” Memories and nightmares swirled in his head. He could not distinguish what were dreams and what were real.
Nibbling on the end of her quill, Hermione rummaged through some bottles on the bedside. “Hmm, that isn’t a surprise. You seemed to be oscillating between your memories and reality when you went a bit delusional last night, rambling things you didn’t mean of course — ”
Draco went rigid, noting the conflicted look in her expression. “What did I say?”
The witch averted her gaze, shifting on her feet. “Well, you were quite incoherent really. You were saying things but I’m sure you didn’t know what you were saying — ”
“ What did I say , Hermione,” he gritted out. She stilled, looking at him the way she looked at an arithmancy problem or a potion that produced side effects she didn’t anticipate.
“You seemed to be remembering that night we were captured at the manor.” He paled, stomach twisting. “You kept rambling that you didn’t want to do it, that you didn’t know us, and that I should try to escape. Then you said… you said you were sorry.”
There was a heavy pause, neither knowing what to say.
“Again, it's a pretty common side effect given the heavy dose of potions you were under. Not to mention the venom that was extracted. In fact , when I was decomposing the venom, it showed — ”
“I meant it.”
Hermione blinked rapidly at him, trying to figure out if she was the one hallucinating things now.
When she didn’t reply, Draco cleared his throat and sat up, leveling a stare. “I meant it, Granger. I’m — I’m sorry.”
She finally met his gaze, her brown eyes turning into liquid honey under the morning light. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like you could have done anything that night aside from not identifying us.”
“Not just that night. All of it,” he said steadily. His gaze shifted, unable to look at her anymore. “How I treated you at Hogwarts, the first few nights after Scorpius and I arrived… when you first woke me from that nightmare… All of it. ” From the periphery of his vision, he noticed her swallow. That night seemed so long ago, when they had screamed at each other, fueled by their assumptions and rage. When he had accused her of staying safely in the safehouses while her friends died on the front lines. And she herself lashed out at him because of their history, the choices he had made, as if he truly had a choice at all.
Draco inhaled deeply, pushing away the instinct to lock away his emotions. “After you woke me from that nightmare, I was angry at the way you looked at me with so much judgement because you have no idea what I went through. It pissed me off every time I saw you with that accusatory look in your eyes — as if I already didn’t know how much I fucked up. But , I shouldn’t have lashed out at you and said those things.”
She paused, her gaze distant and a rueful smile on her face.
“You’re right,” she said after a moment, “I don’t know what happened to you before coming here and sometimes no one will ever understand what you’ve been through. But that doesn’t give you the right to invalidate other people’s experiences. We’ve all suffered — it doesn’t do to compare scars. Someone is also doing worse or going through something. But no matter what, what they feel is still valid no matter how seemingly insignificant.” She looked at him then, a hardness in her eyes. “I don’t owe anyone an explanation or justification for what I’ve given up for this war. Just like you don’t owe anyone.”
A heavy silence settled into the space between them.
“But… thank you. For the apology.” She bit her lip, a look of hesitation in her expression before it was soon replaced by a steely resolve and determination. “You’re… not wrong that I put my defenses up around you. But it’s been difficult putting my guard down, not just around you, but to most people now. Still, I’m also… sorry. Sorry about making assumptions about you and what you’ve been through and… the way I treated you.”
There was a pause, both listening to the crisp melody of birds. The words reverberated through Draco, settling in his head, in his chest, an odd sensation that calmed the constant turbulent waves within him.
“Not all your assumptions are wrong,” he murmured. “How I was raised and how I acted — it was fucked up and I see that now. Yes, I did everything for my family and our survival, but I cannot deny that I was a coward. Not just on that night I let you get tortured, but by refusing to question what I had been taught.”
“You were a child. We all were,” she said. Her voice was still cautious but he could see a softness in her eyes.
“I visited you, you know,” he said, hesitantly. “Second year when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and you had been petrified.”
Hermione gaped at his admission.
“Ron and Harry polyjuiced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle! They told me how you told them you wished I was dead!”
“I won't deny that I tried to believe everything I said about muggleborns. I thought that the more I played the role that was expected of me, the easier it would be to believe everything I was taught. But when muggleborns started getting attacked — it felt too real.
“I was telling the truth during our earlier fights, when I said I really didn’t give a fuck about blood purity no matter how much I tried. I heard the slur for the first time over the summer but I never knew how much of an impact it would have. I won’t deny that I tried being like my father — in that way I meant it. I meant every cruel action and word. I hold myself accountable for it all. But it didn’t feel real in the beginning, the mindless words and bullying. That’s why when you were attacked I visited you. At first it was a way to have a look with Crabbe and Goyle, to celebrate. I thought that seeing you would make me feel satisfied, proud, and powerful. But it didn’t. You just looked so dead and lifeless and… ”
Hermione was speechless at his confession. His face looked horrified, as if he could conjure up the memory with perfect clarity.
“I forgive you, Draco,” she said quietly, as if it might break the fragile tension between them.
He didn’t reply, his face closed off and hard until, finally, a soft smile graced his lips.
***
The next day, they finally returned to the safehouse. Scorpius had been distraught and lunged himself at them both. Upon seeing his father’s battered state, he had taken to never leaving his side.
“ — and this the gween room and the phone and the cow jumping over the moon!” Scorpius pointed out from his position tucked at his father’s side as he ‘read’ Draco the book. Draco smiled into his son’s hair.
Just then, the bushy-haired witch bustled into the room, quills and parchment floating around her as she carried another bottle of sludge in her hand. Draco would have groaned at the sight of his medication had her frantic state not distracted him. Since they returned, she had holed herself up in the small library. Her curls were frizzed from the rainy weather, ink smeared across her cheek and nose, all the while rambling to herself about serpent venom and alchemy.
“Hi, Mini!” Scorpius chirped upon seeing her. The little boy giggled, finding her frazzled state amusing.
“Oh hi, Scorp,” she said, blinking up from beneath the curls loose around her face, momentarily distracted from whatever was going through that big brain of hers. She had been reprimanded by Moody and Kingsley before they had returned, taking full responsibility for her actions that put herself and her partner in danger.
Moody had begrudgingly accepted her antidote and findings, huffing out with reluctance that it would be a big help to the Order. He then grumbled under his breath, putting a large hand on her shoulder and shaking his head before leaving. Kingsley too expressed his concern and said she was lucky. Foolish and lucky, and that should she do it again, she was banned from field work. To Draco’s surprise, he had reached out and shook Draco’s hand with what almost looked like… respect.
“How are you feeling, Draco?”
The way his given name slipped off her lips so naturally still caught him off guard. Ever since the shack, a tentative understanding grew between them. It was fragile and uncertain, but there was something lighter between them now. A quiet kind of familiarity no longer denied.
“Oh, I still have some pain in my joints. My neck is particularly stiff — perhaps a neck rub?” Draco tried hard not to laugh, his tongue running over his teeth at her fuming face.
“I’m serious, Malfoy!” Draco hissed when she sent a light stinging hex to his shoulder. Unfortunately, his glare did nothing to stop her from sniggering behind the cover of her hand.
Draco’s scowl worsened when a confused Scorpius began laughing with her, wanting to join in the conversation.
When her laughing settled, her cheeks remained flushed and her eyes bright. Finally, she adopted a serious face when she examined him, at one point brushing her fingertips gently from his temple to his check to check the texture of some minor scarring left by the scales. Draco felt his temperature heat up at her proximity as he tried to stay still even when a rogue lock of her hair caressed the tip of his nose.
“Well according to your vitals, you’re fine — except your heart rate is a bit higher than it should be,” she muttered, lost again in that massive brain of hers. The witch began to turn back to update her notes when Scorpius grabbed her sleeve.
“Mini, Mini , my giwft!” The tot looked at her with wide eyes, trying to subtly convey his message.
“Oh!” Hermione scrambled, summoning a piece of parchment then handing it to Scorpius. Draco looked curiously between the two before accepting the piece of paper his son handed over. Finally, he looked at it, eyes widening in a soft surprise.
“Oh is that me and a quaffle?”
“Das me! Am wearing safe clothes!” On the paper was a drawing of him and his son on a broom — well that’s what he inferred from the blond blob on a brown stick holding what to him looked like a quaffle. To his surprise, a moment later the drawing began to move amongst a scrawl of blue clouds and a yellow sun. “Mini make it move!”
Draco gave his son a squeeze. “I love it. Thank you, Scorp.”
His son blushed, looking pleased with himself.
“You did such a good job. And look at that frowning bush barely hovering off the ground! That must be Mini, isn’t it?” Draco felt a hard slap on his shoulder, which didn’t prevent him from shaking with laughter.
“Yes! Is Mini! Mini no like flying.”
“I just like being safe, Scorpius,” Hermione said tenderly when the boy looked up at her for confirmation.
“Anyways, let’s grab some lunch while your father rests and recovers,” she said as she scooped up his son. “After all, we wouldn’t want his mental capacity to degrade more than it already has.”
Draco choked on his water, sending the witch a glare as she walked out the room with his son on her hip and a smug look on her face.
Notes:
A/N: Wow this took longer than expected to edit! So much important stuff to clean up and word correctly. But I hope you all enjoyed it! This chapter actually marks the end of Part I out of the 3 parts that I divided the fic into so we’re now getting into some exciting stuff now that H and D are tentatively building trust. More characters to come… ;) Also thank you again for all your comments and love! If you want some TOoS memes, general Dramione ones or just want to connect, find me on instagram @cz_bl !
Chapter 15: Chapter XIV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward
into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes,
the slow dance of the infinite stars.”
— Neil Gaiman
A searing streak of lightning pierced through the grey sky followed by a deep rumbling that reverberated through Hermione’s bones. Despite the clouds heavy with rain, not a drop had fallen. The wind picked up, licking the base of her neck, her overheated body welcoming the breeze. Sweat dripped down her nose, but she ignored it, keeping her guard up and her focus on her opponent circling her. Draco’s face was a calm emotionless mask but she refused to let it unsettle her.
Early in the mornings, before she began her research, Hermione practiced what Draco had taught her on her own. She had found that turning off her mind and putting her focus on combat exercises was a good distraction, a good outlet for her anger and frustration.
There , Hermione thought, catching the slight bend in Draco’s right knee and immediately anticipated his fist coming straight for her face. With her left palm she deflected the jab away from her person and took his opening as an opportunity to knee his stomach. He anticipated her, however, dodging her attack smoothly then retaliated with a high roundhouse kick to throw off her balance. Hermione ducked just in time and went on the defensive as he continued an onslaught of attacks.
“Come on, Granger, that all you got?” he called out mockingly. Hermione kept her face impassive, fluidly dodging and deflecting his attacks as he closed in on her.
Draco showed no mercy, attacking every weak point and tell until she started backing up against the wall of the house. She was getting tired and sloppy, her movements no longer fluid and quick. Once he had her cornered, he lunged at her. All he felt was air. Draco spun around but in the next moment, his back slammed harshly against the wall by a small but strong body pinning him with a forearm pressed to his throat.
His eyes widened in surprise at the witch who looked back at him with quiet triumph. She tiptoed upward, her ragged warm breath caressed his neck. “Come on, Malfoy, that all you got?”
Hermione pulled back a fraction and expected to find him angry or irritated. Instead, his eyes were heavy-lidded as he watched her intently with an expression she couldn’t identify.
“Well done, Granger.” The corners of his lips lifted, a proud expression ghosting over his features as Hermione released him. Even with the distance, she couldn’t help but feel impossibly close. She could still feel the brush of his cheek against her own and the heavy imprint of his hand gripping her hip when she whispered in his ear.
She cleared her throat. Thankfully she was saved from a response when heavy droplets of rain began to fall from the skies. She looked up, letting the rain cool her flushed skin.
“Let’s get inside,” Draco murmured as he watched the quickly darkening clouds. Hermione nodded and followed after him.
***
Hermione startled from her sleep, her hands frantically searching for her wand as the darkness surrounded her, choked her. There was no light here, no escape — the eyes of those she had hurt, those she had loved, those she had loved and hurt stared back at her.
You were supposed to help me, Mione…
Could you not save us? What child would do this to their own parents?
You were supposed to figure it out! It’s all your fucking fault!
“ Stop ,” Hermione whimpered. “I’m sorry.”
Hermione blinked, finding herself moments later haunched over the toilet bowl. She tried to concentrate on the cool tiles kissing her shins while she shook and retched into the toilet. She was in the safehouse, no one was watching her, no one was here, they were all gone, all gone . When the hundreds of voices finally settled, she opened her lids and flushed the toilet.
Lately, her nightmares had been plaguing her with more vividness. No matter how far she thought she had come, there was always something to remind her that she could not run away, could not be free of her terrors. Because how could you run away from yourself? How could you keep pretending that everything you’ve done was justified and convince yourself that it would all work out in the end?
Her head thudded lightly against the bathroom wall. The storm continued to rage into the night, the wind billowing and blowing as rain pelted the roof. She thought of going back to bed but couldn’t stomach the thought of losing herself to another round of nightmares. Instead, she decided to give up on sleep and get dressed.
For the rest of the day, Hermione spent her time at the library continuing her research on the venom and the vessels. She read and annotated, keeping everything organized, keeping everything controlled. Hermione used to find solace in this — reducing her tasks into lists and schedules and plans. It had easily gotten her through Hogwarts with high marks and praises from her professors. She had thought that she had everything figured out — that the real world worked the same, that as long as she could break problems down into manageable tasks, this along with her intellect would be enough to gain a measure of success in the real world. She had prided herself on how her discipline and method of operating gave her some control over her life. But if there was anything this war taught her, it was that there was no such thing as control.
“Miss Granger, Watson has come to deliver the weekly report,” Watson said as he popped in, handing her the parchment.
“Thanks, Watson,” Hermione said, plastering on a smile. The elf paused, tilting his head and looked at her with his watery purple eyes. After a moment, he blinked and simply nodded before Disapparating. Hermione had always appreciated the silent understanding between her and the elf. There were just some things she couldn’t speak of — not yet — because she was afraid that if she did, everything she kept buried in her would never stop pouring out until she was empty, emptier than she had already felt.
Hermione spent a couple of minutes reading the report. Despite the fact that there were no casualties in the latest missions she couldn’t help but still feel heavy, a vague sadness weighing on her. Simultaneously, she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. There was no reason to feel so melancholic — everything was fine. It was fine and yet an empty chasm opened up in her chest. Was this living? Was this what she had fought for? Sacrificed for? Exhaustion weighed upon her, every breath feeling like an effort to survive.
Her eyes skimmed line after line on magical cores and souls. Endless theories and experiments with no definite answer. She felt overwhelmed, she felt tired, she felt like she was not making any progress. She shut her eyes for a moment, then took a sip of tea. It was all she had consumed that day — she couldn’t stomach eating and so she had simply cooked lunch and left the meal in the kitchen. From her seat in the library, she heard little steps and giggles in the hallway followed by long strides. Thankfully, Draco and Scorpius seemed to sense her mood and her need for space.
The rain simmered into a light drizzle as the candle in the library crackled softly. For a moment, it reminded her of cozy rainy nights studying in the Gryffindor common room, of a different time and a different Hermione Granger. The world had excited her then — so much awaited her and life was full, all her efforts and struggles worth it in the pursuit of some dream and vision of the world and herself in it. There was once a time where adventure excited her. When the opportunity to prove herself and be a part of something larger gave her a sense of purpose, of meaning .
But the real world was not what she thought it would be.
War was not glamorous — there was no glory here. She had thought that having a significant part in a cause, playing a large role in it, would be wonderful. But it was not. If anything, she wanted to feel insignificant. Because if you were insignificant, you were free. She thought of Harry and Ron and herself. If they had just been ordinary, would it have been easier? What would life have been like without the weight of the entire world on your shoulders? Without having been ‘chosen’ or expected to give more and more of yourself to the world until nothing was left of you?
With a sudden jolt, Hermione woke to the library room cast in dying light. The rain had receded into a rhythmic patter but the air was chilly. Confused, Hermione looked around and at the blanket around her shoulders. She felt as if she was losing control — she didn’t even remember grabbing a blanket nor falling asleep.
With her head in her hands, she tried to occlude. She had barely gotten anything done that day. All her plans, schedules, reports were now delayed because she couldn’t get herself together. She laughed humorously — the Hermione Granger back at Hogwarts would have stuck to her plans and held some semblance of her life together. She had always believed that progress was a line that went in a singular upward sloping direction. Surely one couldn’t do worse than what they’ve already proven capable of doing? Now she felt like she was slipping, regressing, and, if possible, getting worse, becoming more incompetent. Her past success only mocked her, made her feel pressured and frustrated with herself for being unable to be who she once was. Because at the end of the day who was Hermione Granger without her tenacity, her intellect, and her control. That’s all she was valued for wasn’t it?
Still feeling exhausted, Hermione walked back to her room. The hall was eerily silent except for the soft rustle of branches against the windows. Her mind was loud however, a wild cacophony of voices from her past, her own voice lost and unsure.
Hermione’s thoughts were cut off when she abruptly halted upon reaching her room. Outside her door was a piece of chocolate on a tissue paper and a stuffed toy dragon. The voices were quiet now, the world fading away except for the two objects before her. In the next moment, she dropped to her knees, running her fingers over the items. She took a shaky breath, her eyes watering as she finally let herself feel.
***
“Daddy, what Mini doing?” Scorpius asked curiously from his perch on his arms. The two Malfoys looked from the window at the witch standing in the rain. Her back was turned towards them, curls dripping, her head tipped up to the heavens.
“I have no idea,” he murmured. Before he could process what he was doing, he put Scorpius down with his toys. Without protest, his son agreed to stay put. Seconds later, Draco found himself walking under the pouring rain, immediately drenched and his locks matted to his skull. When he finally reached her, he simply stood beside her and didn’t speak as the rain seeped through his clothes.
“I find it difficult sometimes to remember them, you know,” she finally spoke, her voice hollow but soft. “Harry and Ron. I am able to recall their faces and memories perfectly. But I — I don’t remember what it feels like — being with them.”
Draco silently watched her profile, watched the way raindrops sat heavily on her dark lashes and the way white mist formed from her lips with every breath.
“I don’t remember what it feels like having best friends. I don’t remember what being Hermione Granger feels like.” Her voice was still empty, a deep seated hollowness of one who had seen too much, lost too much. “Some days I’m grateful that I don’t remember — it hurts less when you don’t remember. But at the same time you feel like a stranger in your own skin. And it terrifies me the more the war eats away at me.”
“It’s all fucked up, Granger,” he murmured after a pause. “Sometimes I wonder if the war truly changed me or if it simply brought out a part of me that was already there. Ironically, it seems like a punishment sometimes that I survived. But here I am, while the true victims of this war are dead like all those muggleborns and wizards who were not afraid to fight back. Like my mother.”
He stopped then, a clear hesitancy in his face.
“Like Astoria.”
Hermione froze. This was the first time he spoke of his dead wife.
“I don’t have any Gryffindor speeches for you, Hermione,” he chuckled humorlessly, “but saying a big fuck you to everyone and everything?” Hermione glanced at him. He kept his gaze forward, a rueful and defiant smile on his face. After a moment, her lips quirked upwards as she tipped her face upwards again and shut her eyes.
The raindrops continued its cold descent, trailing down her neck and spine. She was unbothered however as warmth seeped from the large hand that was entwined with her own.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh I know it’s short!! I actually had another part for this chapter but I moved it like a couple chapters down cause I really wanted this chapter to end with this moment. And no it’s not a filler chapter - I really drafted this one because I thought it was important to just have this moment where things are just not great mentally. It was very personal of me to write this - I get a lot of days where things are just not great even if physically in the “real world” everything is fine and should be fine but it’s just not. Everything’s just wrong for no reason. So I guess writing this was a way of letting it all out and reminding myself that feeling this way is valid… and it’s ok to feel angry and upset and frustrated even when people tell you to be happy or grateful. It’s ok to feel all that and not feel guilty of your own thoughts and feelings because at the end of the day it is you who has to deal with it and face it and bear the burden of it, no one else.
Chapter 16: Chapter XV
Chapter Text
“Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
If I cannot bend heaven, I will raise hell.”
— Virgil
The wind continued to howl like a dying hound as the leaves shivered in the cold damp air. Hermione remained still, crouched behind the bushes, Draco on her left and the dark-haired Italian siblings, Luca and Gina, to her right. With Hermione as lead, their group was tasked with a simple scouting mission of a pureblood countryside manor in Italy that they suspected held prisoners from the True Order.
“It seems deserted, no?” Luca whispered, still keeping his eyes on the perimeter. Aside from the unusually thick layer of wards, there seemed to be no one occupying the home.
“Most pureblood homes have enchantments that allow the owner to make it seem like the home is unoccupied. It’s commonly used when purebloods want to go into hiding, but more often when they require… discretion to indulge in their,” Draco’s face twisted, “carnal urges.”
Despite purebloods boasting about their elitism, from a young age, Draco had found that they too were slaves to their baser desires. His father had never participated in such acts, finding them lewd and primitive — he worshipped Narcissa. Nevertheless, Draco had not been saved from bearing witness to the self-pollution of upper society.
“Draco’s right about the enchantments. Watson had mentioned it in the blueprints. Let’s circle around the perimeter as planned and look out for any signs that it is being used. But, to be safe, I’d prefer to keep our distance — we can come back with a larger team if we must,” Hermione said.
The other three nodded in agreement then continued to their task. It was a starless night, only the moon hanging heavy and full in the sky.
“There on the steps,” Gina pointed. “It is blood, sì ?”
Hermione looked closer at where Gina was pointing. True enough, dark liquid was smeared over the steps as if someone had been dragged over it. Under the grey moonlight, the blood looked black.
“There was an attack a few days ago on a muggle town not too far from here where some of our members were hiding,” Hermione murmured. “There were no bodies left so we assumed they must have been captured.”
Before the group could investigate any further, a growl reverberated from the shadows of the forest. Hermione immediately lifted her wand, a spell halfway formed on her lips before a bright yellow light seared her vision then the world went dark.
***
Hermione cracked an eye open and winced at the sharp pain at the back of her head. It was dark and cold wherever she was except for a sheet of moonlight streaming from a high window. She made to move her arms and reach for her wand but found the heavy weight of manacles cuffed around her wrists and ankles, chaining her to the floor. Although she felt weak and drained, she still tried to summon her magic. There was no response. It was as she expected — the restraints were enchanted to suppress her magic.
“ Shit ,” she cursed softly, her throat feeling raw. Her vision finally focused, zeroing in on the dirt and blood caked beneath her fingernails. Hermione grimaced as she pushed herself upright into sitting position, noting the scars and injuries on her calf and chest as well as bruises trailing up her arm that she didn’t remember receiving. A rustle of chains immediately drew her attention and she managed to lift her head, searching the darkened dungeon.
“Don’t make too much noise,” a low voice rasped. After her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a figure across from her.
Draco .
“Where are Gina and Luca?” she croaked, leaning back against the damp stone wall for support. Before he could answer, a blood-curdling scream reverberated through the cell. Hermione inhaled sharply at the sound, Gina’s pained cries piercing into her chest.
“ Hermione ,” Draco hissed, “stop struggling! You’ll draw attention!”
Hermione blinked back the tears pricking her eyes and tried to calm herself. I’ll get them out, I’ll get them out , she chanted again and again in her mind. She would get them all out. Alive.
Finally, the screaming stopped, instilling both a relief and a deep foreboding.
“They took Luca first,” Draco began, interrupting her thoughts, “then Gina after she clawed out one of the eyes of the guards.”
“How long have I been out?” Hermione started to shake as the screams started up again and echoed through the cellar walls. She tried to calm down — she couldn’t let herself feel. Not now.
“About an hour after the rest of us awakened.” Draco’s jaw clenched, his eyes glazing over. “You wouldn’t wake up so they… beat you.” His tone was dark, calm but an undertone of restraint. Hermione’s eyes widened, unable to remember what happened while she was unconscious. She quickly glanced around the cell, trying to think of a way out.
Another scream pierced through the darkness, followed by heavy footsteps.
“Granger, listen.” Draco shuffled forward, the beam of moonlight falling on his pale head matted with sweat and blood. Hermione sucked in a breath at the sight of his face — it was bruised and bloodied, the marks stark against his once smooth skin. His lip was bleeding, but he looked unconcerned at his state. “They took our shield cloaks with the emergency signal. Our best bet is to — ”
He was cut off when the door to the cell banged open and four Death Eaters barged in.
“Look who’s awake.” The leader, Hermione assumed, sneered as he eyed her. His scarred face was defined against the milky wandlight. Dark greasy hair hung limply from his balding head as he grinned with yellowing teeth. “Looks like the fun is about to begin,” he chuckled, grabbing her chin as his breath blew over her face, smelling like curdled milk and beer.
Hermione refused to flinch, staring straight into his beady eyes.
“I’ve heard of this mind of yours, little mudblood . I look forward to breaking it.” Hermione snarled as he straightened. “ Crucio! ”
Hermione had no time to react as pain seared through her body. It was as if her veins were being fried by lightning. Her eyes rolled up as she spasmed on the ground, only distantly recognizing her own scream.
When the pain finally stopped, she remained twitching on the ground, a white noise ringing in her ears. Vaguely she heard chains rattling and hoarse shouting. It felt like the world was underwater. From where she lay on the damp stone floor, she vaguely noticed shapes and shadows dancing. The lights and shapes began to focus and, across from where she lay, she managed to make out the source of the commotion — it was Draco. Two guards tried to hold him back as he snarled and fought against his chains, a wild murderous look in his eyes. Another guard tried to subdue him, casting spell after spell, but he managed to stay conscious.
“What’s this?” Their leader chuckled, a manic glee in his eyes. “The blood-traitor fighting for the mudblood?” Suddenly, Draco was flung against the wall by an invisible force. “What you say, Malfoy? Do you think it would be more fun to have her unconscious when we fuck her? Or have her screaming?”
The guards laughed, one of them sending a kick to her stomach, causing her to cough up blood. Something changed in Malfoy’s face then — a blankness falling across his features as he lifted his head slowly. He blinked at the man, his pale battered face even more terrifying in the waning wandlight.
“You’ll regret that,” he whispered.
The guards went quiet, his words cutting through the space.
“It’s ready, General,” another guard interrupted upon entering the cell. A wide smile spread across the general’s features.
“Excellent. Take the mudblood bitch and the blood-traitor,” he commanded as he turned from the room.
Draco and Hermione were dragged out of the cell, still chained. Hermione tried to focus on her surroundings, but her vision was hazy. The cuffs continued to chaff her skin as the guards continued to drag them through the mansion. It was only when fresh air blew across her face that Hermione finally mustered the energy to look up. Before them, torches were lit, illuminating a pentagon painted in blood.
Hermione was shoved to her knees alongside Draco, the chains linked to their cuffs embedding themselves into the ground with magic. They were at the edge of the pentagon and in the middle, nailed and splayed out on the grass was Luca.
“ No !” a female voice shrieked. To their right, Gina was being dragged by her arms, her face sobbing at the sight of her brother’s body. The shrieking abruptly cut off when Gina was backhanded to the ground.
“This is the cost of all your hope, of all your fighting. Is sacrificing for your Order worth it?” the general said. “So much death and all for what? Give us the information and we’ll make it easier.”
“Never!” Gina spat.
“Very well — we have other uses for you lot anyways,” he smiled. Gina was dragged forward to the middle of the pentagon, brought to kneel before her brother. A masked Death Eater approached her, a black knife glinting in his hand. Hermione almost emptied her stomach as Gina’s neck was slit, the fight leaving her eyes as her body went limp. The image was seared into Hermione’s mind perfectly, of the two siblings laying limp, side by side, lifeless. Dead. They were her responsibility, her fucking responsibility and this whole time what did she do? Lay useless on the ground while her whole team got tortured and killed.
Suddenly, green flames erupted from the lines of the pentagon. From the forest, two large werewolves with red eyes dragged in another werewolf, which looked beaten and severely injured. With a growl, they flung the limp wolf into the pentagon to join the Death Eater with the dagger. An unintelligible chant thrummed through the air as the wolf was circled by the man with the knife. Suddenly, the Death Eater grabbed the wolf’s forearm, cutting a figure Hermione could not make out. The wolf in the circle let out a shuddering howl, causing Hermione’s skin to prickle. From where they knelt, Hermione saw the wolf’s yellow eyes bleed into a dark red, the bleeding symbol on his forearm flaring an inky purple light before sinking into his skin. It was then that she noticed the marks on the other wolves.
Hermione watched in horror as the wolf rejoined the others. They all bowed submissively to the Death Eater wielding the blade. Somehow, they had found a way to control the werewolves using blood magic and the marks.
“Now, I’ll give you two options,” the general began, “die like that stupid bitch. Or spare yourselves and give us information.”
When neither Draco nor Hermione responded, the general simply smiled and lifted his wand. A spell formed on his dry lips, but suddenly he froze, eyes widening before he fell to the ground. Noise broke out as True Order members emerged from the forest. Hermione sagged in relief as the battle broke out.
The smell of sulfur invaded her senses as flashes of spells seared through her foggy vision. Screams melded with the howling and snarls of the werewolves under the Death Eaters’ control. To her right she could make out a blur of white-blond hair. It seemed Draco had managed to grab the keys off the general’s body that had landed closer to him. He snatched up their wands from the general’s pocket and immediately conjured a shield, narrowly deflecting the spell that came his way.
Hermione watched as he duelled with two Death Eaters then a werewolf. Attacker after attacker fell as he deftly moved and struck, not hindered by his injuries. When the sixth Death Eater fell, a cold smile graced his features along with a rogue look in his eyes. His teeth were bloodied and his arms spread wide like an avenging angel.
“Who the fuck is next,” he roared.
As if in answer, lighting shot through the night sky followed by a deep rumble. A harsh downpour rained upon the battlefield. Just as the first drops touched Hermione’s brow, the world went dark and she saw stars. Her ears were ringing as the side of her face began to throb. She heard a hard crack from nearby but her vision was still too unfocused to identify the source.
“Hermione,” a voice rasped as gentle hands prodded her temple. Briefly, the touch left her and in the next moment she felt the manacles on her wrists and ankles disappear and her magic flare to life. Strong arms lifted her onto her feet and she leaned heavily on the solid support. “Hermione, wake up.”
Hermione lifted her lids, fingers curling around the cool wood of her wand that was slipped into her hand. “Draco?”
“We have to move,” he said, pulling her along. Hermione almost stumbled on the bloody body beneath her, immediately recognizing it as the guard that had kicked her earlier. Before she had time to process his state, Draco brought her past the circle of torches, his solid arm around her waist as he used his free hand to shoot spells.
From her proximity to him, she could feel his magic enveloping them. His magic felt like cold fire — so cold it burned. There was a sharpness and potency to it, but at the same time an underlying darkness that only came when one was familiar with the Dark Arts. The intricacy in which he wielded his magic, swiftly cutting those in his path mesmerized her in her daze.
“ Fuck, the wards are too far out!” he growled. As Draco erected a shield to deflect a curse aimed to his side, another hex shot at the opening, hitting Hermione on the chest. Hermione hissed and almost doubled over. But, just then, a figure popped before them.
“Suri is here to help,” said a little elf with large green eyes. It was a house-elf from the Order. All around them house-elves apparated in, grabbing True Order members before disapparating. Hermione sagged in relief as Draco took the elf’s outstretched hand and they disappeared.
***
Draco and Hermione were apparated into the middle of the headquarters meeting room, which they found in disarray. Witches and wizards were running about as Moody barked out orders. Before she could thank Suri, the elf disapparated, likely to rescue more members.
“Granger, Malfoy,” Kingsley’s deep voice greeted them. Relief washed over his expression at seeing them alive.
“Gina and Luca are dead,” Hermione croaked, staggering forward as a new pain bloomed in her chest. Before she could get another word out, a blanket was thrown over her shoulders just as Draco stepped slightly in front of her with one arm steadying her as he began filling Kingsley in on what happened. It was only then that Hermione realized that her top was soaked in blood and sliced cleanly down the middle, revealing a deep gash between her partially exposed breasts.
By the time Hermione got her bearings, ready to hold accountability for the lives lost under her leadership, Kingsley had just turned away while a firm arm guided her out the room and into the infirmary.
The next few moments were a blur with healers running around the room, dousing her with potions and treating her with spells then rushing away as more victims apparated in. On the cot crammed next to hers, Draco was getting treated for an infection on his back. The house-elves popped in and out, bringing in more members, some clawed and sporting werewolf bites. Some dead as they arrived. Hermione’s eyes prickled, the image of Luca and Gina vivid behind her lids. They had been new recruits, so young and ready to fight after having lost their parents in an attack. And now they were dead.
“Daddy! Mini!” a voice shouted. To her surprise, Hermione watched as Scorpius Malfoy began running on his little legs with his hand clasped tightly around a pinched-face Watson.
“Scorp, what are you doing here?” Draco said with his eyes narrowed.
“The young Malfoy refused to sleep,” Watson said grumpily as they wove through the throng of people. “When Suri informed Watson of your escape, the young Malfoy insisted on finding you.”
Draco nodded at the elf in understanding, sighing as he picked up the little boy currently reaching his arms out expectantly.
“Watson must be going now. He must be helping other elves.”
“Thank you, Watson,” Draco said as did Hermione. Scorpius cheekily waved at the elf and leaned back against his father.
“Is you okay, Mini?” Hermione looked over at the boy’s wide concerned gaze. Before she could muster out a response, Scorpius wiggled out of his father’s arms and, with some effort, heaved his body up on her cot.
“Scorpius, Hermione needs rest,” Draco reprimanded lightly.
Hermione laughed at the sour look Scorpius gave his father.
“It’s alright, he can stay,” Hermione murmured, brushing her fingers through the boy’s soft locks. Scorpius’ head whipped in her direction, a beaming smile on his face as he leaned in to her touch.
Draco exhaled in defeat. “Be gentle, Scorp.”
“Of couwse!” Scorpius said with an offended look. “I take care of Mini.” Hermione’s heart stuttered as he snuggled next to her and lay his head on her shoulder.
“You go sleep now, daddy, I watch Mini,” the boy said with a determination in his brows despite his evidently drooping lids.
Choosing not to argue, Draco shook his head, pretending to shut his eyes until moments later the sound of his son’s soft snores reached his ears. Draco opened his eyes only to see brown ones gazing in his direction. Despite the gaze trained on him, there was a vacant distance to them. He knew what she was thinking about in that moment. He knew that she was running through a million decisions she could have made to prevent the loss of Luca and Gina’s lives. He knew that she was adding on this additional burden, as if she could carry the weight of every death on her shoulders, as if she owed the world or anyone that. He could see these thoughts in the solemn set of her face, the worry in her brows, and the fear she always kept buried for the sake of being brave for everyone else.
“Really, Granger, I don’t know how I could possibly sleep with you ogling my body.”
Hermione blinked, a fierce blush blooming over her cheeks upon realizing where she had been staring. She cleared her throat lightly and shot him a glare.
“I wasn’t ogling you, Malfoy,” she said in a clipped voice. “I was just… inspecting that gash on your abdomen.”
Draco hummed, raising a pale eyebrow. She scowled.
“Anyways,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze, “you should get some sleep too.” Carefully she put the blanket over Scorpius, her gaze softening at the sleeping child.
“Is that a command, Granger?” Draco replied. It came out softer than he intended.
“And if it is,” she said, meeting his eyes again with her nose turned upwards in that swotty way of hers.
“I know I’m quite the temptation but let my body heal before you try to take advantage of my weakened state and have your way with me, yeah?” he drawled, shutting his eyes. Even with his eyes closed, he could see her fuming face behind his lids, her lips forming into that angry pout and her brows furrowing. His lips twitched at the image.
“Just fucking sleep!” she whispered harshly before sending him a stinging hex that had him hissing.
“Ms. Granger, I’ve got the potion for your head here,” the healer’s exhausted voice intoned. “A sleeping drought as well.”
“Oh, the sleeping drought won’t be necessary,” Hermione replied.
“It is necessary Ms. Granger if you want a proper recovery,” the healer replied sternly. Draco heard a defeated sigh and clink of bottles.
“Good. I’ll curtain off this area so you, Mr. Malfoy, and the child can get some privacy and rest.” Hermione thanked the healer and Draco noted the tell tale sounds of wards setting in place and a silencing charm.
A few moments later, Draco opened his eyes, stood up, and surveyed the space. The witch was knocked out beside Scorpius. The firelight of the infirmary turned soft as it passed through the white curtains that closed them off, casting a gentle glow on their faces. Draco’s brows furrowed as he watched the way the lines of her face softened, the way she and Scorpius lightly snored in sync as her body curled around the child like a shield. She was still battered, her lip swollen and hair limp. Now that she was asleep, he could finally assess her state. He frowned at the new scars and bruises on her skin and the faint tremor of her fingers from being subjected to the cruciatus .
Draco shut his eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to occlude but he was barely able to shut the doors in his mind or prevent the new doors that appeared. There was a new door that held a cell and the body of a girl with curly hair, a girl who was cuffed to the ground with blood spilling from her lips. Another one that held a girl with cuts and bruises on her face, whose body was warm and soft beneath his bleeding palms. A door with the same girl, curled around a pale blond-haired child. Fuck .
After an eternity, he opened his eyes again, the doors of his mind rattling but firmly shut now. He looked down at the sleeping pair, his eyes latching on a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. He froze, catching his fingers suspended in the air, close enough to feel her warm breath tickling his fingertips. He shivered at the ghostly touch and immediately curled his hand into a fist. Shaking his head, he turned back to his cot, but not before placing the blanket securely around the two and adding an extra layer of wards.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh I know I’m sooo late but I was so swamped this week and I was not happy with some parts of the chapter. Things seem to be going well for Draco and Hermione… for now *evil laughter*. I’m really excited for the next coming parts as we dive deeper into their pasts and their relationship. For next week I will probably NOT be able to update due to crazy life stuff but I’ll make it up to you by trying to get more than one chapter posted next time! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, especially now as we start getting into the more angsty stuff and bringing in more characters!
Chapter 17: Chapter XVI
Summary:
Warning: Animal cruelty
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter, like it really doesn’t matter. You want to be free from the thing, the person, the event, the memory. But the feeling is still there, always there, waiting for you, harassing you to acknowledge it, to live with it, to swallow it whole. And then, one day, it just seems to be gone, and you feel a tinge — just the slightest tinge — of happiness again. And you think you’re free at last, but then, out of the hidden depths, there it comes again, swelling up at first and then dragging you down down down, this time deeper, oh so much deeper than before, and all the way down it’s screaming over and over: it matters, it matters, it matters.”
— Jesmyn Ward
Draco absentmindedly ran his fingers through his son’s hair, the weight of the boy’s head on his shoulder a steady comfort. Their room was silent except for his son’s soft snores. Since Scorpius had gone down for his afternoon nap, Draco had lost himself in his thoughts of the mission the other night. Though they had made it out alive and saved the prisoners thanks to the elves, Draco couldn’t seem to ignore the way the event had left his occlumency walls shaken. It had been too much — seeing Granger beaten and bloodied, writhing in pain as she screamed when hit by the cruciatus . It had rattled something inside of him. It was the same scream that he heard echoing in the manor’s drawing room even after it had been scrubbed and polished. And it was the same helplessness he felt — doing nothing as he watched her tortured. But something about it was different this time. The second her body arched off the ground, all he felt was white-hot rage. Despite the suppression of his magic by the manacles, he could feel it fighting in his veins.
Now, in the aftermath, it terrified him. Seeing her hurt opened a chasm he was not ready to explore. He knew that once it had cracked, there was no turning back. The doors of his mind shook as he attempted to close and lock every door. Unbidden, a door, one made of dark old wood, cracked.
“Draco dear, what is it?” the young boy’s mother asked.
Draco lifted his head from where he was staring down at the path to meet two pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly — one winter blue and the other a twin silver to his own.
“It’s a sparrow,” he replied. “It must have fallen from its nest.”
The boy’s gaze returned to the small creature on the ground before him. It was tiny, just the size of his palm. Its brown feathers were puffed in every direction, flustered from its fall. The sparrow squeaked and hobbled, one of its wings bent in the wrong direction.
“Leave it,” his father commanded in a stern voice. Laced in his father’s words was clear distaste. “Are you listening, Draco?”
Draco blinked and swallowed, shifting at becoming the object of his father’s attention. It was a fine summer day, the sun high in the sky and the manor gardens blooming with his mother’s roses and carnations. Yet under his father's gaze, he had never felt so cold.
“Yes, father,” he said stoically, saying the perfectly practiced words with the right amount of deference, the right amount of respect, and the right amount of dignity. He was a Malfoy too after all.
His father nodded sharply then turned to continue their walk around the gardens with his mother on his arm. Draco made to follow after them but stopped when the bird tumbled in his path and blinked up at him with wide brown eyes.
He hesitated.
“Draco.” The voice was clipped this time, a warning he felt quite clearly even when his father’s back was still turned.
“Coming, father,” he replied as he brisk walked towards his parents, making sure not to crush the little bird in his back pocket.
~~~
“You’re strange,” Draco murmured, frowning at the little sparrow that refused to eat the seeds he had snuck from the kitchen. He had managed to treat the bird’s wing and put it in a cast by following the instructions from an old book on ornithology in the library. It had been difficult finding the right twig for the tiny sparrow's wing, but he had managed, successfully putting the crying bird’s bone back in place and securing it even when his hands were being pecked at.
“You should eat, you know.” The little bird cocked its head from where it was perched around a bundle of table cloth on his desk looking like a little queen. According to his research on sparrows, the one before him was a girl because of her brown coat with grey undertones and her pale throat. Draco lowered his head so he was eye level with the sparrow. He swore she narrowed his eyes at him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he sighed. “I had to set your wing back in place. See, it says here,” he pulled out the book and flipped to the page he had referenced, “if I didn’t set it back, your bones would not regrow properly. Then for sure you would not be able to fly.”
The brown sparrow continued to look at him suspiciously, engaging Draco in a staring contest, which Draco refused to back down from. Finally, she averted her gaze and took a seed in her mouth.
“Aha!” Draco grinned triumphantly. “Mother says our bodies are magic too. It can heal itself if we take proper care of it. So you got to eat now. But you have to be quiet. Father will be unhappy if he found you.”
The bird continued to peck at the seeds while Draco watched, observing the different shades and stripes of its feathers that got lighter until it was completely white around its belly. It was an odd creature, not like the hounds they had. The hounds were father’s pets, disciplined and obedient. No, Draco frowned, the bird wouldn’t be his pet. He didn’t want to be its master. The bird was so young, had not even had the chance to fly and explore the world. Draco made a promise then, he promised he would take care of the bird, nourish it until it was ready to fly far far away, to be free , somewhere safe and full of bird song. The thought made him smile.
~~~
“Father.” Draco lowered his head as he entered the drawing room, focusing his gaze on the polished marble floor until he met the dragon leather hide leather boots of his father who was seated by the fire.
“Ah, Draco,” his father began. “How was your lesson with Severus?”
Draco finally looked up, keeping his expression neutral as he silently searched his father’s features. Despite his father’s calm voice, his question unsettled him. His father never inquired about his lessons after having been satisfied that Draco had demonstrated enough intellect and aptitude at a young age. Draco straightened.
“We’ve been studying mayflies and how to extract their wings without killing them. Keeping them alive keeps the magical potency of the wings intact.” Draco waited, but his father continued watching him behind his hand, the Malfoy signet ring glinting in the grey afternoon light. “Professor Snape says I’m a natural at potions, not clumsy like his first-years. He is certain I’ll do well once I get to Hogwarts.”
“Good,” his father finally responded after a beat. “I’m glad that you are reaping the advantages of these privileges . Your mother and I do our best to give you the best, you know that right, boy?”
“Yes, father.”
“And yet,” his father lifted his hand as if searching for the words, “you have disobeyed me.”
Draco kept his voice steady. Calm. He schooled his features into blankness in that way he had learned so long ago, even as his heart beat rapidly in his ribcage. “I’m unsure of what you mean, father.”
“Do not lie to me,” his father snarled, standing to full height. Draco stepped back. Before Draco could utter a word, his father snapped his fingers and in his palm, crushed by his large pale hand, was the sparrow. The sparrow Draco had tended to in secret for weeks. The little sparrow who he had finally been able to gain trust from, who could now stretch her wings, who was so close to flying. Who sat on his shoulder while he read by the fire, gazing over the words as he spoke them out loud. Who sang him little songs when it rained and he had been sent to his room by his father.
“Did I or did I not tell you to leave this filthy creature behind?” Draco inhaled deeply, trying to hide his fear. If there was anything his father hated more, it was weakness.
“Yes, father.”
“Then why,” he began, the sparrow squeaking in his grasp as his father’s fist tightened around her further. Draco’s jaw clenched, his fingers digging into his palms behind his back to stop them from shaking. “— why was this thing found in your room? I punished the elf responsible for cleaning your room because it tried to hide the bird’s existence when I had come in looking for a book I thought you’d taken again. The elf finally told me you’ve been keeping this thing for weeks!”
“I’m sorry, father.” Draco’s lips quivered. He tried not to look at the sparrow, tried not to look at his friend.
There was a snap, followed by a soft cry.
Draco blinked, his eyes stinging. He kept his gaze away from the crying bird in his father’s hand.
“You understand this will not go unpunished, yes?”
“Of course, father.”
“Good.” Draco’s father brushed past him, snapping his fingers again. “Felix.”
“Yes, master?” The elf popped into the room and bowed.
“Fetch the hounds.”
Draco whipped around. It was a mistake. His father had been watching him, clearly seeing the devastation in his face. His father sneered.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he clicked his tongue as Felix apparated back in with a pack of hounds, restraining them by their leashes. “You’re attached to this bird. You care about it.”
Draco remained silent, the sounds of the hounds growling and gnashing their teeth and the little bird’s cries echoing around the drawing room. He couldn’t do anything. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He was afraid, so afraid he was paralyzed. He could only stare at his father, tears streaming down his face, silently begging him to stop hurting the bird.
“To care for something, to be attached to it, is to surrender power to it. And in this fragile thing, so so breakable, you have surrendered yours.”
“Father, please,” Draco’s voice cracked.
“This is a lesson, son, not just about your disobedience but about power.” Draco watched as his father let go of his grasp, the brown sparrow falling in mid-air, flapping its wings, giving Draco a spark of hope that was quickly extinguished when the sparrow froze a couple of feet off the ground. Draco shut his eyes, sniffling through his tears.
“Watch,” his father commanded. Draco heard his father’s footsteps come closer just before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Draco forced himself to open his eyes, watching the confused little bird looking at him as she struggled to free herself from the invisible force.
“Release them.”
Draco’s whimper was lost in the loud snap of bird wings crushed between canines. Brown, grey, and white feathers floated in a flurry as the hounds ripped the little bird's body apart. Draco watched, from the beginning until it's quick end, until the hounds were licking their bloodied lips beside their master, until all that was left on the blood-stained floor was a frail crumpled body, completely unrecognizable. Until all he could see was blood and feathers and broken wings. Until all he could hear was the cold cry of a dying song wringing in his ears.
~~~
Draco’s eyes shot open, sharply pulling out of the memory. He immediately called on his occlumency magic, shutting the door that held the memory with bolts and locks until it stopped rattling and the cries died down. When he finally pulled away fully, he found himself shocked at the particular memory, shocked that it had resurfaced. But an ominous voice in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t have been.
Draco shut his eyes again. There is a meadow with long grass bending in the breeze…and a manor with many doors . He cleared his mind, letting his thoughts and memories fade away and recede. He compartmentalized the chaos of emotions inside of him, locked it behind a wooden door, vines and flowers creeping around it until it was hidden. He let his magic calm the turbulent waves of his mind, icing them like a frozen surface over a lake. Vaguely, his emotions pounded beneath the surface, but he simply looked away as everything he felt was frozen and pulled into darkness.
***
“ Again ,” he commanded harshly.
Hermione gritted her teeth but attempted the combination again. Her left fist swung forward followed by a feint then a kick towards Draco’s midsection.
“Again,” he demanded despite her perfect execution. They had been going over the same combination for the past hour. No matter how many times she got it right, he wasn’t satisfied. He had been that way since that morning. Hermione assumed it was simply the stress and ignored it, but the way he was colder, harsher, and more distant during their sparring session made her realize that his ire was targeted at her .
“Seriously, Granger?” he snapped. “That left hook would have been anticipated with how slow you’re going.”
“What the fuck is your problem!” Hermione yelled, seething at his attitude.
“ Excuse me ?”
“I said: What. the. Fuck . Is. Your. Problem?” She met his glare defiantly, unfettered by the way his eyes flickered with anger.
“My problem is that you’re not doing the combination right!” He stepped forward, towering over her with his jaw clenched. “You think that will work out there? It’s not enough, Granger .”
“Maybe when you figure out what the fuck your real problem is and stop taking it out on me I’ll make some fucking progress!” she snarled. “Right now I refuse to be your punching bag. If I actually am the source of your problem, let me know right now. But if I’m just an outlet for your anger, I’m not going to tolerate it.”
Hermione turned around and left him fuming in silence.
***
Hermione jolted awake at the feeling of hands on her person. She immediately grabbed her wand.
“Mini! Mini! Is daddy!” In the darkness, she made out the small form of Scorpius sobbing. Draco’s nightmares must have returned, Hermione thought as she scooped up the child and murmured soothing words into his ear. She pulled him securely when he buried his wet face into the crook of her neck, grabbing her desperately as if she would let him go.
When they finally reached the room, true enough Draco was on the bed thrashing and breathing harshly. His brows were furrowed, a faint sheen of sweat illuminating his pale skin. With a flick of her wand she turned on the bedside lamp and put Scorpius down so as to keep him safe from his father’s unconscious movements. Scorpius clung desperately to her leg as she concentrated on his father’s writhing body.
“Malfoy! Wake up!” she called out, trying to keep his arms from thrashing. He kept fighting her hold, his head shaking from side to side. “It’s just a dream! Wake up. Draco!”
“Astoria,” he suddenly gasped.
Hermione froze. A thousand thoughts whirled in her mind along with an indescribable sickening in her stomach. She felt like she was intruding on something — something she was not supposed to be a part of. Here she was, standing before a man who whispered his dead wife’s name in his sleep as their child clung to her leg. Her throat tightened painfully.
“Daddy! Pwease!
“Wh — what? Where am I — ”
“Daddy!” Hermione was pulled from her thoughts upon seeing Draco sitting up and blinking in confusion. Scorpius crawled up onto the bed and buried his head in his father’s neck. “You is having bad dreams again!” he sobbed.
Draco cursed inwardly, stroking his son’s back. “I’m sorry. I’m alright, it’s all going to be alright,” he whispered.
When he looked up to face Hermione, he was met with the door clicking shut.
***
Moody’s bulging blue eye whirled back and forth as if perfectly capable of seeing the tension between them. Even without the palpable tension between him and Granger, Draco knew he would never feel comfortable around the man who had turned him into a ferret. His scarred face, wiry hair, and nose that was missing a chunk of flesh never failed to make him feel unsettled. Nevertheless, Draco had to admit that although he was rough, he was a fair man with a sharp wit. He had treated everyone the same — even him — neither buttering anyone up nor treating them like filth. It was a stark contrast to the many pureblood male figures he grew up with.
“Before we go on to business,” Moody said gruffly as both eyes landed on him, “Shacklebolt and I have officially called off your probation. Consider this your induction into the True Order.”
Surprise flickered over Draco’s features at the casual notice that he was free and officially a part of the Order. He glanced at Hermione, but her face remained blank.
“Shacklebolt and I have decided that since you and Granger work well together, you’ll remain partners. She will no longer need to monitor you or update us on your behavior, unless you give her a reason to,” Moody paused a beat, giving him a heavy look until he was satisfied with whatever he saw. “Most missions will require having a partner so expect to continue working with each other a lot, however there may be some special cases.”
Draco simply nodded, glancing again at the witch. Since she had woken him up from his nightmare, she had been distant, not speaking to him unless she had to and always avoiding eye contact. At first he told himself he should be relieved and that this distance was what he wanted after all. But if there was anything her coldness, distance, and indifference did, it was make the very thing he kept locked away more difficult to keep out.
“ — that being said,” Moody continued before taking a swig from his flask, “since Miss Granger is privy to certain confidential information given her status in the Order, there will be some missions you will not be accompanying her in. Such missions include the one that we have for her today.”
Hermione stepped forward, reaching out for the parchment Moody extended to her over his desk. She perused the file with a furrowed brow.
“Well, Malfoy, there is no ritual or tattoo ceremony of the sort,” Moody said with an amused huff as he carelessly dropped another piece of parchment on the desk along with a quill. “To officially be inducted, just add your name to the line over here.”
Draco moved towards the desk. Unconsciously, he stepped closer to her until his arm brushed hers. He blinked, shocked when she stiffened and pulled away from his touch. His heart stopped, a cold tremor going through his fingertips. He was pulled from his shock when Moody tapped on the parchment he had yet to sign with an intense look in his magical eye. Immediately, Draco masked his features and signed the parchment. Though he was able to repair layer after layer of his crumbling occlumency walls, he could not control the sudden frantic beat of his heart and the tightening in his chest.
***
Draco paced the library. The clock had just struck three in the morning and Hermione had yet to return. He had tried to get some sleep when he had put Scorpius down, but he felt restless. Before she left, she had not said anything except a goodnight to Scorpius. He had no information about the fucking confidential assignment except that it would likely consist of two separate missions over two days. Draco knew she was capable of handling herself. Still, it didn’t stop him from pacing.
He had just completed another lap across the room when he heard someone entering the foyer. Unconsciously, he relaxed and made his way out of the library. He had just turned into the threshold when he stopped abruptly, a cold weight sinking into his stomach at the sight of two heads bent intimately towards each other in hushed conversation. Draco saw red.
George fucking Weasley.
An indescribable, dangerous feeling raged through his body. Draco found himself stuck, unable to move as the pair looked up at him in surprise.
“Oh, Malfoy you’re still up,” the witch said. Draco’s fists curled when the bloke put his hand on Hermione’s shoulder and turned slightly towards her protectively.
“Malfoy,” the wizard intoned, raising an arrogant brow. Instead of responding, Draco pivoted around and headed back to the library.
Every fiber of his being felt on fire, his magic swirling in chaos as he tried to get his bearings. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It was just a moment later when he heard the door to the library open.
“Was there something you needed?”
“Are you fucking him again?” he snarled, whipping around to face her. The witch blinked back at him owlishly, her face flushing before it twisted into an angry expression.
“What the fuck is your problem! He was my partner for the mission — ”
“If you wanted him to be your partner so badly you could have just said so earlier when Moody fucking assigned us together!” He felt irrational, uncontrolled, angry. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get the image of them standing so closely in the foyer out of his mind.
“I didn’t request to partner with him for this mission! He was already a part of it because it was a personal family matter!” He continued to glare at her and she glared back. “If you really must know, Fleur is pregnant and needs to find a specialized healer because she’s been experiencing problems! Bill and Fleur requested George and I aid them in finding them one because it’s too dangerous for Bill to leave her alone in her state!” she hissed.
“I bet you’re all happy going back to that fucking Weasel — ”
“So what?!” she snapped. “Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. I’m not the only one keeping in touch with the ghosts of my past.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he yelled.
“I heard you — when you had the nightmare,” she rasped, breathing heavily, unable to stop herself. “Astoria. You said her name.”
Draco blanched.
“I — that’s — ”
“Don’t,” she said, looking away. “It doesn’t matter. The mission with George was nothing personal. I’m just doing my job, Malfoy.”
His eyes narrowed, his expression twisting as the coldness returned to his face. “Of course, because that’s what anyone really is to you anyways.”
Before she could form a response, he walked past her and slammed the door shut as he left.
Notes:
A/N: Ahhh I finally updated!! Last week I was overwhelmed because of real life and I couldn’t get this chapter out. But now these next few weekends should have regular updates again. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter - I had so much fun writing Draco’s childhood memory with the sparrow. The original draft of this chapter actually didn’t have that flashback but when I was editing, it felt so empty and I came up with it last minute and added it. I really wanted to dig deeper and provide context - not excuses - but context for Draco’s behaviors and fears. I’m really excited about the next few chapters as things unfold and get more complicated. For those of you wondering, much later on we will be diving deeper into Draco’s past especially and learning about what happened with Astoria. Thank you all again!! I have been reading all your comments (and re-reading them when I’m feeling particularly down) and they are so kind and lovely. Love you all!
*Omg I'm so devastated I can’t find the author of the quote! I just found it on my phone but I tried searching and can’t find who wrote it :( if you happen to know who said it, please let me know!
UPDATE: I have just been informed that it is from 'Men We Reaped', by Jesmyn Ward!!!
Chapter 18: Chapter XVII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Beat, happy stars, timing with things below,
Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell.
Blest, but for some dark undercurrent woe
That seems to draw — but it shall not be so:
Let all be well, be well.”
— Alfred, Lord Tennyson
“Mini, is you eating?” Scorpius asked with his mouth full and brows furrowed. His large silver eyes blinked hopefully at Hermione who, after casting a Cleaning Charm on the pans, started to make her way out.
“Oh, not tonight, Scorp!” she replied, guilt piercing through her when the little boy’s face fell.
Malfoy remained silent, blankly observing the dish of roast beef in the middle of the kitchen table that only had enough servings for two.
They had not spoken since their fight last night. She tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that she felt nothing even though deep down she was angry at his assumptions and audacity to accuse her of doing anything intimate with George when she hadn’t.
No, she had to put all her focus on the mission. It was a critical and potentially dangerous one, especially for Fleur and the baby. Going to a muggle doctor had occurred to them as a safer solution but Bill and Fleur were worried the problem was a magical one. It was only last night that she and George were able to scout out a healer in Romania specializing in magical pregnancies that Charlie had found using his contacts. Romania, however, was politically unstable as they had allied with Voldemort. But it was their only option — even if they somehow managed to locate a healer in a country that didn’t have such a strong Death Eater presence, there was still the same risk that the healer could not be trusted.
After saying a quick goodbye and leaving the room, Hermione was almost out the door when a firm hand on her wrist stopped her. She turned, only to be met with a pair of stormy eyes.
“Don’t be stupid, Granger. Don’t be reckless. You know better,” Malfoy said in a clipped voice, his jaw ticking as his eyes bore into her. They gazed at each other a moment longer before she nodded. He let go of her wrist.
***
They were under attack. The healer had just been wrapping up her check up on Fleur and prescribing her medication when twelve Death Eaters surrounded them. They had blasted through the protective wards of the healer’s home and put up anti-Apparition wards.
Chaos ensued afterwards as the Death Eaters attacked. Immediately, Hermione let her instincts take over, slashing her arm in an arc, blasting back a pair of Death Eaters with a strong gust of wind. She took count of Bill, Fleur, and the healer on one side of the room and George on the other. They had one portkey, which Bill kept, but it would be too risky attempting to re-group without making it easier for the Death Eaters to attack them. They needed a plan.
“We’re outnumbered!” Bill growled, a ferocity in his scarred face as he tore at a Death Eater with his bare hands, the brute strength and instinct of his werewolf traits surfacing.
“George and I will try to hold them off!” Hermione shot curse after curse, freezing the attackers as the first line of defense along with George while Bill continued to shield the very heavily pregnant Fleur and the old healer.
“I — I promise,” the healer’s voice quivered, cowering behind Bill, “I did not alert them.”
“We believe you,” Fleur grunted, shooting off her own curses, a rage and protectiveness in her icy blue eyes. “We knew zee risks.”
“Mione!” George yelled as an invisible force flung her backwards. She smashed into a glass cabinet of potions and vials that shattered into hundreds of pieces. Hermione gasped, feeling the sting of glass shards embedded into the flesh of her back. Just then she caught a flash of red hair. George.
George cast a protego, shielding off the attackers that continued after her, the pale blue light of the shield illuminating his panicked face. “You alright?”
“Yes,” she replied, gritting her teeth as she got to her feet and coming to his side with her wand raised.
Together, she and George duelled the rest of the Death Eaters.
“ Prick,” Hermione hissed when a curse grazed her already sprained arm, having been distracted with George at her side. He was a great fighter, having honed his skills upon his twin’s death. But while she was precise and fluid, he was uncontrolled and untamed. He let his emotions guide him with a brute force, his magic a manifestation of his rage and the very fire that ran through every Weasley’s veins. But as a result, she and George’s spells and movements clashed like a discordant melody, a shocking contrast to what she was used to when she worked with —
“ Fuck off you sonz of beetchez !” Fleur shrieked, blasting a Death Eater into the wall. Despite her large belly, Fleur was more fierce than ever. She glowed with a brilliant radiance as she severed the limbs of two more Death Eaters who had managed to get on her husband.
There were too many of them, the silver masks blurring like silver coins amidst the green and yellow flashes of spells.
“ Oh shit .” Hermione turned towards the source of the sound. At the edge of the room was George struggling to control his wand with two hands as it spewed fire.
“George what the fuck!” Hermione gasped as the flames raged and grew, consuming the wooden walls and Death Eaters in its path. The air immediately heated, every inhale made more difficult by the burn in their lungs.
“I got it under control!” George grunted, his arms still trying to contain the fire. Hermione clenched her jaw. Now was not the time to lecture him about his recklessness.
“We can’t hold them off for too long!” Hermione yelled. “Bill! Take Fleur and the healer!”
“Ermione — ” she heard Fleur say in warning.
“No, Fleur! Get out now !” Across a sea of flames and masked bodies, the witches locked eyes. Fleur clutched her wand in one hand and her belly in the other, a fierce protectiveness in her stance but also a stubbornness that Hermione had learned to appreciate as they had gotten closer in the war. “George and I will hold them off! For the baby!”
Fleur hesitated then finally nodded tersely before sending a particularly strong blast of ice at a Death Eater in her way. Hermione shielded Fleur’s path as she grabbed the old healer cowering in the corner then made her way to Bill who had just knocked out another Death Eater with a spell. Bill grabbed his wife’s hand and Hermione continued to cover them while Bill grabbed the portkey in his pocket and they disappeared.
Hermione would have sighed in relief if it weren't for the fumes and ash suffocating the air.
“George!” she finally choked out. She barely made him out as he forced his way towards her through the fire. The Death Eaters seemed to also be preoccupied with the flames, their masks suffocating them faster and consequently causing them to slow down.
“Hermione!” George called back upon reaching her. He panicked as he helped her straighten up. The flames were too high, too uncontrolled. They had to extinguish it. They had to —
“I need you to listen to me,” she paused, spitting the ash out of her mouth before continuing. “I need you to conjure a Bubble-Head Charm — ”
“Mione, we’re not under water — ”
“ Do as I fucking say right now! ” she screamed hoarsely. They didn’t have time. George blinked but did as she said, copying her wand movements as she conjured an air bubble around her head. Thankfully George remained silent, keeping them shielded from the Death Eaters attacking them as she took a deep breath and waved her wand in a complex motion. She called on her magic, molded it and wielded it with her very will. She bent her wrist and slashed her wand downwards harshly. Suddenly, the room went dark, the flames completely vanishing. The Death Eaters fell one by one to the ground, desperately clawing at their throats. She had taken away the oxygen around them.
“How — ”
George’s words were cut off when she yanked his arm and pulled him through the bodies and ash. Once they were out of the anti-Apparition wards, she apparated them away.
***
Home .
Home was her first thought when she tugged on her magic and felt the familiar pull in her bellybutton. It was the only thought that echoed through her bones even as she kept her grip on George’s arm secure and surrendered to the sensation.
Home was what she felt the moment she collapsed on the grass and looked up at the safehouse, the peeling white paint and creeping vines coming into focus. It was what called to her from the soft glow of Scorpius’ night light from the upper window along with the promise of a warm hearth waiting for her inside the library. It beckoned her with the anticipation of quiet company while she read her favorite book, only to be interrupted by a glint of silver spectacles and snarky conversations.
“Shit, Mione, that was bloody brilliant!”
Hermione straightened and winced, her adrenaline subsiding and giving way to the pain in her back.
“You alright?” George asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking concerned.
Hermione smiled, hiding her discomfort. “I’m fine. Nothing major.”
“Good.” George relaxed, an easy smile flitting over his features. “What did you even do back there to put out the fire?”
“Oxygen. Fires need to feed off oxygen to survive. I tried this spell I read about where it takes away the oxygen from your immediate surroundings, hence the bubble spell.” Hermione shrugged, glad she had found a way out last minute. George’s fire had put them all at risk. But it was over now. They were safe. The baby was safe.
“Choked those bloody Death Eaters as well,” he smirked. “Honestly, I don't know what we’d do without your brilliant mind.”
Hermione bit her tongue, ignoring the way the compliment brought her more bitterness than comfort.
“No need for the thanks.” She gave him a small smile. She really needed to get back inside and tend to her wounds. “You should go check on Fleur and the rest.”
George’s eyes widened. “Right. You’ll be alright, yeah?”
“Of course.”
“That’s our girl.” George winked then kissed her cheek before disapparating with a twist.
Hermione breathed out a tired sigh and made her way towards the safehouse. Mentally, she sorted through the potions and spells she needed to use to treat her wounds. It would probably require some trial and error since she couldn't see her back, but she didn’t have the energy to apparate to the healer at headquarters. Besides, she had already assured George she was fine. She didn’t want the rest, especially Fleur, to stress.
Once Hermione entered the foyer, she barely managed to hold herself up from exhaustion. She blinked at her reflection staring across from her in the mirror. Soot and blood was smeared all over her face. Hermione winced when she tried to remove her bloodied robes. She clenched her teeth, feeling the sharp tearing of her flesh when she tried once again to pull the robe from her sticky back. Cold sweat beaded her brow. She counted to three and inhaled deeply before giving a hard yank. She whimpered at the searing pain of her wounds tearing open again, her vision going white for a moment. Once her eyesight returned, through her dizziness, she realized there were two hands steadying her.
Hermione straightened immediately, ignoring the pain shooting down her spine.
“Thanks, but I can take it from here,” she tried to say in a cool voice.
Malfoy blinked at her blankly as if bored. “Yes, it's quite evident with how you’re swaying on your feet,” he drawled.
“I’m fine ,” she replied, jutting her chin out and mustering her best glare.
His eyes narrowed, hands still grasping her shoulders.
“No, you’re not.” Draco’s eyes bore into hers, challenging her to deny it. His gaze rattled her, it was as if he was reading her, seeing through her. It always unsettled her, how easy he could read her, how closely he observed her with an attentiveness that she had labeled as that of a Slytherin waiting to exploit her every weakness. But in the closeness with which he was standing before her, his cool breath ghosting over her bloodied lips and the tightening of his hands on her shoulders, she didn’t know what those labels and preconceived notions she had were anymore.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Even if I was not fine, why would you care?”
She waited for him to respond to her own challenge. Malfoy’s mouth opened and closed before it settled into a hard line. Hermione took a step backwards, and just as she was about to tell him to leave her be, she felt her legs tremble before giving way. Before she knew it, she was being directed by a strong arm around her waist to her room.
“Where are your supplies?” a deep voice commanded once she was placed to sit on her bed.
“Bathroom cabinet,” she rasped, breathing heavily. Without looking, she knew she had shards of glass still pierced into her flesh spanning her left shoulder and her lower back. Some parts of her back felt numb, the other parts burning. Shit , the potions. The potions in the broken bottles she smashed into must have caused infections on her open wounds.
Before she could say anything, cool fingers gently applied a salve that stung for a few seconds before it numbed some of the pain. There was a pause. She made to turn her head but was stopped when gentle hands brushed her hair over one shoulder.
“I need to cut off the rest of your shirt to get to the wounds properly.” Hermione thought she heard discomfort in his voice but she was too tired to think more on it.
“Do it.”
Without answering, Draco cut her shirt with his wand with surprising care, making sure not to pull the material off too harshly. Hermione winced at the first dab of cloth. She felt him pause behind her but she murmured for him to keep going. Quickly, he continued and pried each piece of glass from her back. Once done, he focused on cleaning and healing her wounds.
Draco’s movements were light and quick. He observed every small intake of breath and rigidness of her body when the wound was particularly deep. Once or twice she caught his face over her shoulder — his expression concentrated and focused. She had opened and closed her mouth twice when he rummaged through the emergency potion supply kit to tell him what he should treat her infections with but his movements were sure and focused as he took what he needed. She kept her mouth shut, and for once in her life, enjoyed not having to tell someone what to do.
“I apologize about the other night.” Hermione blinked, thinking that in her daze she was hearing things. But there was no mistaking the clear voice. “I didn’t mean to jump on assumptions like that. It was irrational and unfair.”
Hermione swallowed. Letting his words sink in.
“And I apologize for bringing up Astoria,” she spoke softly. When he remained silent, she turned to look at him. His expression was closed, his posture stiff and his eyes glazed over. Occlumency .
Hermione had difficulty stifling her curiosity. Neither he nor Scorpius mentioned Astoria much.
“It’s alright,” he finally replied. His eyes flickered. She could not read his expression.
Hermione nodded in understanding when he didn’t say more, refusing to pry. She had no right after all. She was simply an outsider to his and Scorpius’ world. She had to remind herself that because she often forgot. She sometimes fucking forgot when Scorpius looked at her and leaned into her. She forgot that this child had a mother. His real mother. Hermione had always had a motherly instinct, basically mothering Harry and Ron at Hogwarts — and that’s what she convinced herself this was. Just her motherly instinct. But more and more she found herself believing she belonged somewhere she clearly did not.
“Do the wounds still hurt?” Draco asked a moment later, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“Not as much,” she responded. She lied.
***
“Yay! Mini is going to wead Scowpius bedtime book!” Scorpius said triumphantly as he scurried into their room. Draco paused, blinking at his son struggling to hoist himself up on their bed, then, after successfully doing so, tucking himself in. Before he could ask Scorpius what was going on, Hermione walked in hesitantly with a book in her hand. Draco cleared his throat, adjusting his reading glasses.
“Here, Mini!” the boy said, patting on his left side for her to sit. “And here, daddy!” he said, patting the place on his other side.
Both Draco and Hermione shifted uncomfortably but moved towards their places when the toddler crossed his arms and raised a pale brow expectantly.
“Now, Mini you wead and daddy you be quiet and listen,” Scorpius said cheekily as he snuggled in between them, ignoring his father’s affronted look. To break the awkward silence, Hermione began to read him another children’s book she had managed to find in the attic.
Hermione had just gotten to the part where she introduced the dragon family when Scorpius excitedly pulled the book closer.
“Daddy Dragon is daddy,” Scorpius said as he pointed at the largest dragon with green scales and a bowtie. “Baby Dragon is Scowpius,” he continued, giggling and pointing his little finger at the illustration of the tiny little blue dragon.
“Yes it is,” Hermione smiled softly.
“And Mama Dragon is Mini!” he exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the illustration of the mother dragon with red scales and long eyelashes.
Hermione stilled. From her periphery vision, she saw Draco do the same. Her chest tightened.
At their silence, Scorpius looked up at them with furrowed eyebrows and an angry expression. Draco cleared his throat.
“Astoria is your mother, Scorpius… ” he said softly, his face schooled into a calm patience.
Scorpius’ face went red, eyes shimmering. “Astowia is mother, but Mini is — Mini is mama .” Scorpius replied with such conviction it startled Hermione. The little boy turned his attention to her, his eyes desperately searching hers. Hermione’s heart twisted at the hint of fear in his face as he waited for her to confirm his statement.
“Scorpius, I don’t think —” Draco began firmly, but stopped at the flash of confusion and hurt that crossed his son’s face when his head whipped towards him.
The things Hermione tried to suppress started bubbling up. She felt like an intruder, she felt like she was stepping over boundaries again. She did not belong, she did not belong. A sharp pain sliced through her. Deep down, deep down — no. She couldn’t let herself follow that thought. She knew how it would end. It was too much. It was Harry, it was Ron, it was her parents, it was everyone she had lost. It was the loss of herself and the loss of her place in the lives of people she had — still — loved. And that was the truth — she didn’t belong in anyone’s life anymore, there wasn’t a place for her anywhere.
“It’s getting late, I think I should go…” she mumbled. Hermione avoided Draco’s gaze and forced herself to look away when she caught sight of Scorpius’ tears. She croaked out another goodbye before she left the room.
***
Hermione scribbled furiously on her parchment whilst bent over the kitchen table. It was one of those oddly warm sunny days, she passively noted as she detailed the inventory supplies for the month. To some extent, the task helped soothe her nerves and kept her from overthinking about the last couple of days. After the incident with Scorpius, things mostly went back to normal — Draco, much to Hermione’s relief, pretended it didn’t happen. Scorpius on the other hand was a little bit moody these past few days and was quite clingy with her — but she would be lying to herself if she said she minded it.
Just as she was in the middle of jotting down the exact number of carrots they had left, the sound of footsteps coming to an abrupt halt followed by a strangled sound broke her concentration. Hermione straightened and turned around only to be met with Draco holding an empty mug in his hand, his eyes averted and a slight flush on his cheeks.
Hermione eyed him curiously. At the ensuing silence, Draco cleared his throat, his eyes flitting briefly towards her face.
“My apologies,” he said, clearing his throat again, “I wasn’t aware you were not dressed.”
Hermione blinked at him incredulously then glanced at her plain black t-shirt and denim shorts. “What do you mean? I am dressed.”
Draco bristled. “Your — your bottoms, they’re… erhm… they — ”
“They’re muggle jean shorts , Draco,” the witch said with an eye roll. Her lips twitched when he sputtered.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. Muggle jean shorts . He had already been well exposed to her preferences for those distressingly tight muggle jean trousers. Now he had to come to terms with the existence of these so-called muggle jean shorts that Hermione Granger was unabashedly prancing around in in the kitchen.
“I see,” he said in a clipped tone, his eyes flickering between her face and bare legs. The witch simply crossed her arms, lifting an amused brow at him. “Well, I’ll just go check on Scorpius now,” he said hurriedly as he turned away from her.
“Draco?”
“Yes?” he replied, pivoting back around.
“Your empty mug?” she said in an airy voice then bit her lip as a smile tugged on her lips.
“Right,” he murmured, cheeks reddening further as he strode back into the kitchen. Quickly, he deposited his mug in the sink, cast a Cleaning Charm, then headed back out, all the while ignoring the bare legged witch and her infernal muggle jean shorts .
***
“Oh, Scorpius!” The little boy froze, grey eyes wide. “You’ve got to be careful with the Nutella,” Hermione admonished softly as she cast a Cleaning Charm on the rugs Scorpius sat on.
To Draco’s surprise, instead of a flimsy ‘oops’ or an excuse, the tot looked absolutely stricken, his eyes glazing over and lip trembling. “I — I’m sowwy Mini! I didn’t mean it!”
Scorpius began crying, tears running down his chocolate smeared face. A guilty expression immediately overtook Hermione’s face. Draco watched as she pulled Scorpius into her arms, not caring at all about the chocolate that got in her hair and shirt, which would have definitely horrified any pureblood witch.
“Shh it's okay,” she whispered reassuringly. “I know you didn’t mean it. We just need to be careful next time.”
Draco continued watching, his son’s sobs subsiding before his head lulled onto her shoulder. She finally pulled back and smiled at him. “We need to be careful because we don’t want the room to be all dirty and sticky now do we?”
Still clutching her blouse with his chocolate covered fists, Scorpius shook his head furiously. “But I understand that sometimes we might accidentally make messes. Sometimes things get out of hand, huh? And in those situations, we simply have to take accountability and clean up after ourselves, okay?” she said as brushed his tears from his cheeks.
Draco doubted his son understood what she was saying but Scorpius had a solemn look on his face as if he was absorbing every word she spoke.
“Oh-kay,” he finally replied. Hermione grinned and pulled him closer, letting him bury his face in her neck.
“Miss Granger has a message. Malfoy is needed at headquarters,” Watson huffed upon popping into the room.
“Watsy!” Scorpius squealed.
“Oh, thank you, Watson,” Hermione said as she took the letter, a beaming chocolate-covered Scorpius in her arms. The note was written in a rough scrawl she recognized as Moody’s handwriting explaining that they needed Malfoy for a moment to identify some Death Eater spies they had captured. She handed the note over to Draco. “Everything good with you, Watson?”
“Watson is working with ex-Auror Moody and Mr. Shacklebolt,” he said proudly. “They is pleased with Watson’s work. Watson is old elf but he never forgets information on old pureblood families, no he doesn’t. Watson has also been getting more house-elves reaching out to him to join the True Order. Many masters dead or abandoning them.”
“That’s great!” Hermione replied, genuinely thrilled.
After Watson left with Draco (Watson promptly avoiding Scorpius asking him to play) Hermione got Scorpius ready for bed.
Hermione smiled at the obedient little boy who had been calm during bath time and even tucked himself into bed without complaint.
“Is Mini know lullibies? Nana always sings Scorpius lullibies. Daddy no like singing.” Hermione blinked at his hopeful expression.
“Oh, I’m not very good, Scorp — ”
“ Please Mini!” he pouted with wide eyes. Hermione sighed in defeat and sat down on the bed giving the boy a lopsided smile.
“Okay but no laughing!” she said, sending him a playful glare and tickling him. Scorpius giggled and snuggled into the blankets, clutching his stuffed dragon.
Hermione waved her wand, a soft melody playing. She took a deep breath. “ Star light, star bright …”
***
From the doorway, Draco paused. He hid in the shadows, watching his son’s eyes droop as the witch sang to him. Draco swallowed. He had meant it when they had fought those many nights ago after Krum, when he said Scorpius was getting too attached to her. Little by little, she inserted herself seamlessly into their routine, into their life. She probably didn’t even realize it, he thought ruefully.
But why Mini is not mama? She does not want to be my mama?
I know, I know daddy, Astowia is mother but — but Mini cuddles Scowpius, takes care of Scowpius… protects Scowpius… like mama Dragon...
Maybe — maybe if I’m good boy Mini will want to be my mama… right daddy?
Draco had not been able to respond to his son’s questions anymore, lost in his own turmoil. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look into his son’s eyes and tell him that his Mini was not theirs to keep. That although she did care about him, she had her own life, her whole future ahead of her and plans that likely did not involve raising someone else’s child. How could he explain to his son that she had always been Gryffindor’s Golden Girl, putting all of her heart in saving poor creatures and people who didn’t deserve it and that her caring for him was just who she was. And so Draco had remained quiet, had acted like the outburst had never happened, acted like it would all be fine when the inevitable ran its course. But deep down he felt a sense of foreboding and fear as she continued to pull them into her orbit. And though he tried to pull away and fight it, what terrified him even more was how much he didn’t mind.
Notes:
A/N: Omg this was so tiring to edit!!! I had to add some extra scenes and it ended up longer than expected and took more work than it was supposed to. But we’re here and I hope you enjoy. Thank you for all your lovely feedback, it really makes my day!! Just a note as we approach December, my updating might be a little all over the place as December is just insane for me. But I promise after Dec. 19 when I’m on holiday, I’ll be getting more chapters out. Thank you again guys :( <3
Chapter 19: Chapter XVIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“We sit down
in the smell of the past
and rise in a light
that is already leaving.
We ache in secret.”
— Rita Dove
Cold fog formed from her breathless lips, curling its tendrils around black thorned branches. Even without the foliage, darkness fell around her and Draco like a soft blanket, keeping them hidden from the view from where they were crouched. The wind nipped at her fingers only causing her to grip her wand harder. The forest seemed more awake in the darkness; the air humming with the soft beat of leather wings, curious yellow eyes watching from a hollow elder tree, and clusters of fireflies drunkenly floating like wayward stars.
“There,” Draco whispered from her right.
From the darkness, a single flame sparked from deep in the woods. Hermione glanced up at Draco, only able to make out the outline of his face from the shadows of his hood. Slowly, a golden light illuminated from the rim of his irises, pulsing brighter and brighter like the morning sun. It burned and grew larger as if she was getting closer and closer to it. It reminded her of the stories her father told her as a child, of a man with wings who flew too close to the sun, a moth that was drawn to a flame, the same story, the same lesson that seemed to echo in her head again and again. She swallowed and turned her gaze back to the woods.
The flame — a torch — continued its approach until it stopped on the perimeter of the small clearing across from where they were hidden.
“ Greyback ,” Draco hissed and shifted closer to her, bringing with him the smell of cedarwood, citrus, and winter air. Hermione blinked twice, focusing on the man before her, the man who had left trails of bodies — of men, women, and children — wherever he went. She had known his work, seen the wreckage he had left after every raid, the countless bodies mauled and marked with a savage cruelty of someone who found pleasure in mutilation and destruction. No, he was not a man.
Hermione’s heart hardened as she gazed upon his marred face, waxy in the torchlight. He had accumulated more scars on his face, the marks of his victims fighting back.
“There’s more,” Draco murmured as pinpricks of light formed behind Greyback. There were around a dozen from what she could count. His pack .
Moments later, a boy, who looked no older than seven years old, emerged from the trees. Hermione had only gotten a glance at the boy’s profile — a mousy little thing, reminding her of another boy with sandy hair and a camera. The boy was thin, clothes stained and dirty, slouched as he stood before Greyback and his men, his back towards Hermione and Draco.
“What new information do you have for me on the object?” Greyback sneered as the boy trembled and took a shaky step back.
“I… I — ”
Suddenly a sharp crack resounded through the forest, the boy falling to the ground with a cry.
“ Granger ,” a voice hissed in her ear as arms wound around her. Hermione’s chest beat rapidly as she felt her own magic fighting for release. She knew they were outnumbered, but every bone in her body screamed to fight, fight, fight. The arms around her tightened, a cold cheek pressing against hers. “ Stand down ,” he growled.
“I can’t!” she whispered back, unable to look away as Greyback crushed the boy’s wrist with his boot. “We have to do something, we — ”
“ Hermione! ” Draco pulled her more firmly against his chest, rendering her immobile. “We have our orders!”
Hermione’s gaze was ripped from the scene by a firm hand taking her face and twisting it away. More screams and cries followed, causing tears to flow down her cheeks onto his fingers. Draco’s gaze flickered, hand tightening around her jaw.
“We can’t win all the battles,” he gritted out. Hermione blinked, her mind at war with her heart. He was right. It wasn’t simply about being brave anymore — she had seen the consequences. Once upon a time she would have taken his words as that of a selfish Slytherin. But things were different now. He was different. She was different. She knew the cost of blind courage, and… she trusted him. He was her partner. If there was a way, they both would have figured it out. Hermione nodded stiffly, trying to compose herself. Draco looked at her a moment longer before releasing her jaw gently, both turning back to the scene.
Hermione trembled, watching wide-eyed as Greyback grinned at the crying boy then licked the blood on his knuckles slowly, one by one. The forest seemed to still then, the boy’s whimpering echoing in the space as Greyback’s followers chuckled.
“I said, what new information do you have for me, boy?”
“N-none, sir,” the boy sniffled. His grey trousers darkened, liquid trickling down his ankles. He had wet himself. Hermione blinked back tears, feeling utterly helpless. The arms around her tightened and she felt Draco’s jaw clench, his own magic fighting as well.
“Such a shame the Dark Lord prohibited us from going after mudblood and halfblood children. Now we only get the taste of muggle ones. Mudbloods taste sweeter,” he grinned then crouched before the child. Greyback reached out with a dirty claw and slowly dragged it across the boy’s face. Blood bloomed in rivulets as the boy whimpered. “No tears? Looks like we have a brave one,” Greyback chuckled. “You would have been so fun break. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord has made his orders. Soon, however, we will have the war he promised. And when he accomplishes what he needs with you lot, you’re all mine,” he grinned, his followers following suit.
Draco froze. Hermione knew they were thinking the same thing. First the pureblood children, now halfbloods and muggleborns. It all had to be linked to the object the Dark Lord was looking for. And the vessels.
“P-please! Please let me go! I have no family. I can help. Just give me another chance. I’ll have the information — ” The boy coughed up blood after one of Greyback’s men sent a kick to his stomach.
Hermione’s vision blurred, her breath coming out shaky. They couldn’t do anything. Nothing.
“You can play with him before we take him to the labs, but keep him alive,” he ordered. Greyback’s men leered and approached the bloodied child.
“ Requiescat vita… non sit amplius dolor…. non sit tristitia… requiescat vita…” Hermione was jolted by the voice, only then realizing it was coming from Draco. She turned towards him, noticing his eyes concentrated, his lips moving rapidly. Her head whipped back towards the boy and noticed his hazel eyes widen and glaze over even as Greyback’s men continued their assault. She was not sure what was happening, she did not recognize the spell. She looked back at Draco’s blank face, a coldness in it that should have scared her, and perhaps it would have if it weren’t for the way his body curled into hers, fingers digging into her almost desperately.
And so she forced herself to look back and watch with her eyes wide open while they continued to torture the boy. It was only a moment later when she felt it, some kind of soft release in the air as the boy’s eyes dulled, a peaceful expression settling on his swollen face. Hermione stayed there until all she could see was his face, until every detail of his broken body was committed to memory, vaguely aware of fingers softly stroking her tear-stained cheek and a soft voice whispering in her ear.
***
“There’s a battle coming,” Draco intoned, his face marred with exhaustion but his voice steady and calm.
Moody grunted as he continued to pace the floor while Kingsley rubbed his forehead.
“But there’s more,” Hermione murmured. The two men looked up. “Greyback mentioned the Dark Lord capturing children again. This time experimenting on half bloods and muggleborns specifically. It’s something to do with the vessel and experiments we found before, I am sure of it. But like we had suspected, there’s a missing component, an object. They hinted that the Dark Lord was getting closer.”
“We know he is weakening,” Kingsley said calmly, his eyes calculating. “Those weapons they’ve been working on with the snake-humanoid creatures, the werewolves, it’s a front because he’s hiding something.”
Draco stepped forward. “He knows he needs a new vessel soon. He cannot sustain his current form and go to war. It would be too reckless. If there’s one thing keeping his followers loyal, it’s power. Once his followers know how truly weakened he is, they will abandon him or turn to someone else.”
“I’ll send more scouts to trail the Dark Lord and Bellatrix,” Moody grunted. “They haven’t been spotted in weeks. Even his followers are growing restless."
Draco and Hermione nodded, then set out of the meeting room upon Moody and Kingsley’s dismissal. Before she could round the corner, Hermione was stopped by a hand on her wrist.
“Hermione. Wait.”
Hermione looked up, cocking her head at Draco’s intense look.
“I want you know that if there was anything we could have done for that boy — ”
His words were cut short when she stepped forward, his eyes widening fractionally.
“I know, Draco,” she murmured and swallowed, the boy’s face still vivid behind her closed lids. She looked away. “You were right. We couldn’t have done anything without endangering ourselves, the Order, and even the boy. We can’t win all battles.”
Hermione’s brows furrowed as the silence ensued then met his eyes again.
“That spell you did… what was it?” Draco showed no surprise at her question, as if he had been expecting it. She thought she imagined his fingers flinch around her wrist.
“It’s a spell to help those in severe pain — those already close to losing their life — surrender to a painless death,” he said carefully, watching her.
“And where did you learn such a spell?” she asked quietly. It was Draco’s turn to look away.
“Severus.” He cleared his throat. “When he was mentoring me for occlumency, we were in the forest and stumbled upon a doe that had been mauled by some creature. It could not be saved. He uttered the words and it died. Peacefully. When I asked, he said it was a form of blood magic, not wholly dark, not wholly light — one that asks for relief from the pain already inflicted and blood already spilled. A peaceful surrender.”
Hermione’s brow’s furrowed, her mind whirring. She looked up at him again, her mouth agape but he cut her off before she could ask.
“Yes,” he said firmly, his eyes hardening. “This was not the first time I have used it.” His face closed as he straightened to full height and let go of her wrist. He looked down at her from heavy lidded eyes as if preparing himself. Expecting a fight.
“When?”
“Too many times,” he sneered, his eyes lost to another time. “On the battlefield, in his throne room, in my home. The Dark Lord nor Bellatrix found out of course,” he murmured, waiting for her judgment. But there was none. Only sadness. Sadness and something unfamiliar.
Understanding.
“You did what you could,” she whispered. “There is a kind of bravery in accepting what we cannot change and not blaming ourselves for everything we could have done. You couldn’t have done anything more, just like we couldn’t for that boy. And I understand that now.”
They stared at each other for another moment in tentative silence, no words needed to explain the darkness behind their eyes, no eyes needed to see the scars that ran too deep.
“Let’s go home,” Draco murmured, his gaze still focused on hers. Hermione dipped her head in assent then his hand slipped into her own and he disapparated them away.
***
“Tag! You it daddy!” Scorpius said triumphantly upon jabbing his finger into his father’s thigh. Scorpius beamed at his father who feigned angry shock and giggled before running away on little legs. They had been playing the muggle game Granger introduced to them after seeing Scorpius restless inside the house. Draco had been skeptical at first but upon seeing the witch’s challenging look and the (distressingly) twin look on his son’s face, he decided to give in.
It was warmer now, the backyard of the safehouse cast in amber sunlight bringing to life the greenery. A cool breeze tempered any heat as Draco jogged across the grass, pretending to not see a small blond head and round silver eyes peeking behind a bush before ducking away. His lips quirked as he walked past the bush that was suspiciously shaking with giggles. From the periphery of his vision, he caught a flash of bushy brown hair and smirked.
There you are.
Draco switched directions and sped up, building momentum. Upon realizing she was found, the witch turned into the trees just at the perimeter of the wards. Draco took advantage of his long legs and began closing up on her, getting closer and closer.
Suddenly, she looked back at him, a wide smile on her face as warm sunlight struck her face and dripped off her skin like honey. All at once, everything was still. Her yellow dress billowed delicately around her form, a deep flush on her cheeks as she grinned from behind the curve of her bare shoulder. He felt breathless, as if all air had abandoned him as the image of wild hair, a reckless smile, and dark beckoning eyes forever etched itself into his memory. He swallowed.
Draco was broken from his reverie at the sound of a crack . Immediately, he drew his wand, as did Hermione. Scorpius ran towards them, wrapping his arms around Hermione’s legs as Draco stepped in front of them, wand raised just as a group of five people appeared. At the sight of Kingsley, he lowered his wand and relaxed.
“Kings, what… ” Hermione asked, trailing off at the sight before her. Behind him and Luna Lovegood stood Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott. Hermione instinctively gripped her wand tightly at the sight of Slytherins, whom, last she heard, had sided with Voldemort.
“Stand down, Hermione,” Kingsley’s voice intoned deeply. “They're with the True Order now.”
***
“ — they’ve been cleared. Given they had not participated directly in the Dark Lord’s plans, we have decided on a probationary period. Zabini has also made a binding agreement and offered to fund us through his offshore accounts as well as lend us properties in Italy as safehouses,” Kingsley announced, arms behind his back.
Hermione watched shrewdly next to Draco. Scorpius had been put down for a nap just as they had gathered in the library. The three Slytherins sat on the coach, Luna on an old stool with a magazine she had pulled out of her old hat.
Pansy looked the same as she did in Hogwarts — shiny black bob, dark eyes narrowed in perpetual judgment as she scrutinized the room and lounged like a little queen on her side of the couch. Nevertheless, Hermione caught the hint of exhaustion and gauntness in her disposition as well as a tremble in her well-manicured fingers. Before she could observe further, Pansy’s eyes settled on her sharply, a sleek brow rising in her direction. Hermione looked away.
Sitting close to her was Blaise Zabini — almost protectively, she noted. She had never interacted with the Slytherin before. He was always quiet in classes, but even from a distance, he held an artful grace to him that reminded her of fine cut silk. He too looked at Hermione, the edges of his lips lifting when Pansy whispered something in his ear.
Theodore Nott was another story. He looked almost… excited. His leg bounced and his eyes flitted on every thing in the room. He grinned broadly as Kingsley continued speaking, even giving Hermione a wink when she caught his gaze.
“ — we’ve come to an agreement that Zabini and Parkinson will be stationed in Italy, overseeing the safehouses and resources. Having seen some of Nott’s prototypes he’s been working on, we’ve assigned him to work with Luna in her research and experimentation for the Order,” Kingsley said. Despite Kingsley’s assurances, Hermione remained skeptical.
“How did you guys escape?” Draco asked, the first time he had spoken since they had arrived. He still retained a guarded expression, as if unsure what to think. Though Hermione was aware they grew up together, their pureblood families close, she was unsure of how close they truly were. Back in Hogwarts, whenever she saw Draco, he was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle who seemed to function more as bodyguards than friends. But on occasion, she had seen him spending time with Parkinson, Zabini, and Nott.
“Really Malfoy, is that our welcome?” Blaise said with an amused smile. Draco simply rolled his eyes in response. Blaise grinned before adapting a more somber expression. “After the explosion of Malfoy Manor and your escape, the three of us took the opportunity to go into hiding in Italy,” he began. “Since neither of us took the mark, it was easier for us to slip away. I have family connections in Italy and they agreed to hide us — they have different beliefs of blood purity you see.”
“Why now?” Draco stepped forward, clear hesitation in his face.
“We were laying low, Draco,” Pansy responded, placing her hand on Blaise’s arm. Her lips pursed as she glanced between Hermione and Draco. “We — we weren’t sure if the Order took you in or kept you prisoner so we remained in hiding until we heard rumors that you and Granger broke into one of the Death Eater manors in Italy.”
“Left a right mess,” Theo whistled, shaking his head.
“I’m sure you already know but the Dark Lord is getting desperate. The upper pureblood circles are finding his… experiments and dealings with creatures beneath them. The Dark Lord no longer seems to need their counsel or care about what they want. Bellatrix is his only confidant. That along with the disappearance of pureblood children before you left, well let’s just say the purebloods are becoming more aware of their place as a means to an end. His end,” Blaise said darkly. “The latest information I’ve gathered from the pureblood circles in Italy are that he and Bellatrix have been going into hiding, sending others to search for certain dark objects or ingredients. As for what it is or, more importantly, what it will be used for, I cannot say.”
“A weapon?” Draco’s jaw clenched.
“There are experiments with the werewolves and those snake abominations, yes, but this is something else. Something for himself.” Draco and Hermione shared a look. Vessels . Blaise had verified their suspicions.
“Anyways, we thought we would have a chance of being taken in and joining the Order,” Pansy said, inspecting her nails but watching them through her dark lashes.
“And why the change of heart?” Hermione posed the question firmly, narrowing her eyes at each of them. None of them seemed perturbed however, only curious. Pansy cocked her head in thought, Blaise looked at her as if coming to a silent conclusion, and Theodore surprisingly looked solemn.
“My father as you know has been in the Dark Lord’s circle,” Theo spat. “Father was quite fond of beating his sons, you see. He was a drunkard and a rapist. He beat my mother and never even thought I was good enough to be a Death Eater,” he smiled coldly. “I found it quite easy to see how blood purity was utter shite having him as an example,” he straightened the edge of his sleeve, “to see that the depraved acts and desperation for power to prove oneself was more ingrained in purebloods. And after all, weren’t you all the proof we needed, Granger, that blood purity had nothing to do with power?” he said, grinning up at her.
Hermione felt unsettled at the sudden boldness in which he spoke but could not deny the genuineness in his voice when he spoke of his father.
“I have half-blood relatives as well as muggleborn family friends in Italy,” Blaise shrugged. “The Zabinis usually stay neutral simply because it is the safer option. Now, however, even with my lack of morals,” he winked, “I can see how fucked up it is to remain on the side of that madman especially with what that he has been up to.” A dark look crossed over Blaise’s face as he put an arm around Pansy.
Hermione looked expectantly at Pansy but she averted her gaze and lifted her chin. “I have my reasons,” she finally spoke. “They're confidential but Kingsley knows them.” She finally looked up at Hermione, daring her to question further. “All I will say is that all of us were raised to believe in blood purity, just as Draco was, and all we wanted to do was survive. I am not saying that twenty years of pureblood ideals will be erased overnight, but we’re here to try.”
Hermione merely nodded, recognizing the haunted look in her eyes. To her surprise, the edge of Pansy's lips lifted.
Kingsley briefed them for a few minutes longer on procedures and agreements before heading back to headquarters. Before departing, he had provided Luna and Theo with their portkey for their assigned safehouse as well as emergency protean charmed coins for Blaise and Pansy who already had a portkey back to Italy.
“Stiff gent, isn’t he?” Theo sprawled on the couch, receiving a shove from Blaise when one of his arms invaded his space. Draco, now relaxed, smirked, sitting on the vacant ottoman as Hermione remained awkwardly standing and Luna continued to hum as she browsed the book collection.
“Never thought, I’d see you lot again,” Draco said as the other three smiled at him.
“We’re glad to see you safe, mate,” Blaise said, reaching out for a handshake. Just as they started chatting, Draco stood up abruptly, pulling his vibrating wand out.
“Scorpius,” he sighed, “he’s awake.”
“I can go grab him,” Hermione lept at the opportunity but Draco stopped her.
“It’s fine, you can stay here,” he nodded at her in silent thanks before leaving the room.
There was a moment of silence before Blaise Zabini leaned forward on his knees, watching her. “So, Granger, what would it take to get that guarded look off your face? We don’t bite,” his lips curled.
Hermione stood her ground, keeping her voice steady. “I believe your stories but it will still be a while for me to trust you, given our histories. Well, I never interacted with you or Nott, but Parkinson on the other hand…”
“It’s Zabini,” the witch interrupted, an unfettered smile on her face, cutting like a sharpened knife. “Pansy Parkinson Zabini,” she said as she lifted her hand daintily, a large cut emerald ring glinting on her finger.
“Yes Granger, we were technically forced into marriage when the pureblood heir and marriage decree was announced four months after the Battle of Hogwarts,” Blaise explained upon seeing Hermione’s calculating look. “Luckily, Pans and I didn’t object as she was already infatuated with me at the time — ” he was cut off by a strong slap to his shoulder, Pansy glaring at him as he smiled back fondly.
“ Anyways , we got married and laid low,” Blaise continued. Just when Hermione wondered if they bore an heir, she noticed the rigidness of Pansy’s shoulders. She filed the question for another time, noticing the anger in Pansy’s unseeing eyes. “We remained in contact with Malfoy, visiting him and Scorp once in a while, but we were all trying to survive, mind you, so we didn’t reunite too often. Draco was under a lot of pressure too given his rank as well as raising his son as a single father.”
When a moment of tense silence filled the room, Theo straightened. “Well I never got to marry,” he said, shrugging. “I was born infertile — my father made sure everyone knew of it so I got out of the whole pureblood arranged marriage thing,” he shuddered. “I laid low as well, tinkering for some project. My father never saw much of my work, that’s why he never anticipated how one of my experiments would raze Nott manor to the ground. I was delighted to see my little toy work when I escaped,” he said light-heartedly.
“Oh, did you use the saliva from Larkbuls — quite combustible you see,” interrupted a dreamy voice. Luna had her head sideways as she read the vertical titles on the bookshelves.
“ Larkbuls ? Are those even re — ” Pansy began before she was interrupted by a giggle in the hallway. A moment later, Draco entered with Scorpius in his arms.
“Scorp, you remember Aunt Pansy, Uncle Blaise, and Uncle Theo?” Draco murmured. The tot nodded shyly, burying himself in his father’s neck, peeking behind his balled fists.
“Aww come on bud, don’t be shy of your favorite Uncle Theo.” Theo scowled when Draco grimaced. Scorpius giggled.
“Hullo,” Draco jumped at the sight of Loony — Luna Lovegood, staring at his son with bug-like silver eyes, a bluer shade than his. “I’m Luna.”
“Ello,” Scorpius responded tentatively, eying the odd girl curiously. The witch didn’t seem fazed however and returned to the shelves, humming to herself. Draco shook off the irrational fear of the witch that had plagued him since first year and settled on the ottoman with Scorpius who was still regarding his friends shyly.
“Look at you, you’re such a big boy aren’t you,” Pansy cooed as Blaise reached over and rustled his hair.
“Mini make yummy food! I even eat all da veggies. Mini says I am a good boy,” Scorpius beamed proudly, twisting in his father’s lap and reaching both arms out for Hermione. Hermione flushed as all eyes suddenly turned into her direction. Oblivious to the curious looks, Scorpius squirmed on his father’s lap, frowning in confusion. “Mini, up!”
Unable to deny the boy, hesitatingly, Hermione pulled the child up into her arms. Scorpius relaxed and amused himself with her hair as she shifted under the collective gaze trained on her. She usually was not bothered by crowds, but with the assessing looks of her company, she felt she was in a den of snakes.
Hermione was on the verge of making an excuse, feeling the familiar feeling that she was intruding and unwelcome, when a smooth voice called out to her.
“Tell us, Granger,” Blaise intoned, “what has it been like putting up with our dear Draco over here? Bet he was a pain, especially without having an elf to cut his own food into bits.” Draco glared at him. Blaise, unbothered, snickered.
“And imagine without access to his hair products!” Pansy gasped.
“Don’t forget the Egyption cotton towels! Can’t have his porcelain skin chaff now can we,” Theo added, grinning at Draco’s scowl.
“Having fun, are we?” Draco huffed at his friends. Scorpius, who didn’t know what was going on, joined in the laughter, causing Hermione to find it more difficult to suppress the smile she had already been stifling.
“Oh, don’t get all pissy,” Pansy said good naturedly, the first relaxed expression Hermione had ever seen on her. “We just missed you.”
The air was more comfortable now as the Slytherins relaxed and conversed. They were surprisingly polite, including her in the conversation even when she tried to busy herself with Scorpius. Still, she could still see the hint of curiosity in her eyes, especially when she and Draco interacted.
Hermione had just put Scorpius to the side so he could play with his toys when she heard a sputter.
“Is that an erotica book?” Theo asked incredulously, looking at Luna who had deposited herself on the rug, a soft distant expression on her face as she began reading a book with a shirtless man with long hair on the cover, a generously bosomed woman in his embrace.
“Mmm I suppose so, Theodore,” Luna replied in a gentle voice without looking up.
“Blaise, if I remember correctly, didn’t we find a lovely collection of your mother’s books that one summer — ”
“Not a word, Nott,” Blaise cut him off, shuddering. Draco smirked.
“Quite… intense these romance books,” Theo continued, chuckling, “embedding all these unrealistic romantic notions.”
“The only thing unrealistic about romance erotica books is that they embed the notion that men are capable of giving women orgasms. Multiple ones at that,” Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself.
There was a pause, during which Hermione’s cheeks heated, then ruckus laughter erupted. Pansy grinning devilishly, Blaise howling as Theo sputtered in shock. Even Draco’s shoulders were shaking, watching her with twinkling amusement.
“Not bad, Granger,” Pansy said as finally settled, nodding her head in reluctant approval. “Looks like Gryffindor’s princess can bite back.”
“Oh, Hermione’s right,” Luna said primly. “Also on male size. Quite unrealistic, indeed.”
Blaise choked.
“I’ll have you know, Luna dear,” Theo drawled, “in that department, there are no disappointments. I’m well endowed I assure you,” he said with a wink.
Still maintaining an indifferent expression, Luna looked at his face then her eyes baldly flickered to his crotch then back to his face. “Hmm I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Theodore,” she said with concerned assessing eyes, as if trying to diagnose a problem.
Blaise tipped his head back, giving a hearty laugh. “Merlin, Lovegood. You truly know how to put a man in his place,” he said wiping tears from his eyes. Pansy’s giggles continued and even Hermione could no longer stop grinning.
“If I remember correctly, Theodore ,” Draco drawled, “during the summer when we were fifteen, you had discovered the concept of pheromones from a muggle science book you had snuck in. And if I recall, you thought that creating a potion with pheromones would aid you in gaining the attraction of females. You’d think you wouldn’t have difficulty if you truly were… ‘endowed’ in that department.”
Theo's face soured at Draco’s smirking face.
“I don’t think — ” Hermione bristled, her mind already analyzing how he could possibly construct such a position based on her knowledge of potions and muggle science.
“Indeed, Hermione,” Draco chuckled, oblivious to the surprised looks from his friends at the casual use of her given name. “The only thing that became attracted him was the manor’s field mice.”
“Absolutely traumatized,” Theo shuddered, his eyes glazed in horror as if reliving a horrific nightmare. “Desperate little beasts.”
The room erupted in laughter, Hermione herself unguarded, unaware of the wide grin on her own face and silver eyes watching her.
Notes:
A/N: Ahhhh!!! I finally updated. I’m so sorry it took so long T_T after real life stuff settled on the 19th, I just hadddd to get a writer’s block. I wished to update sooner but upon reading the initial draft of this chapter I was very very unhappy with it. In fact, I added the first two parts last minute and chipped away at this chapter for days. Now I feel a bit less inhibited and I’m trying desperately to get more chapters out as I am on holiday break. Nevertheless, I’d like to thank all of you for all your love and support. You guys truly motivate me and make me feel understood since a lot of the things I write about or the way I portray some characters are embedded with my own feelings and experiences. I’m quite excited for a certain scene in the next chapter and we’ll be seeing more of the Slytherin crew. I hope you guys enjoy and happy holidays!!
Chapter 20: Chapter XIX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“None sing as purely as those
in deepest hell.”
— Franz Kafka
The late afternoon sun descended into a burning gold, its rays dancing through the library windows. Theo and Luna had left not too long ago, Luna with a distant sort of expression as she vaguely described where they were headed and Theo looking confused and somewhat sheepish when the witch took his hand before they portkeyed out. After their goodbyes, Draco and Blaise walked outside for a private talk leaving Hermione with Pansy on the carpeted floor as Scorpius worked diligently on his latest artwork.
“And dis one is a wose like in Nana Cissa’s gar -den,” Scorpius said as he put his finishing touches on what looked like a red cinnamon roll with little green arms.
“It’s lovely.” Hermione grinned at the boy who gave her a toothy smile and snuggled into her side before returning to his drawing.
Hermione was still unsure what to make of the witch who had remained quiet during the exchange. She shifted uncomfortably upon feeling Pansy unabashedly staring at her as she attempted to busy herself with Scorpius who had his brows furrowed in concentration.
“Scorpius is fond of you.” Hermione looked up. “Took a while for him to be comfortable around me,” Pansy huffed. “Aside from Narcissa and Draco, he is wary of anyone else — just like his father.”
Hermione was unsure how to respond, surprised she had initiated the conversation in the first place.
“I’m sure you know that Slytherins don’t trust anyone, Granger. Not even amongst themselves,” Pansy continued when Hermione remained unresponsive. The witch lifted her chin in that familiar way of hers and watched Hermione behind perfectly curled lashes. “But Blaise, Draco, Theo, and I have learned to stick together — not in the way you Gryffindors do, but in our own way. We might put ourselves first for the sake of self-preservation, but contrary to popular belief, we do have each other’s backs. Especially against outside threats.”
“And is that what I am,” Hermione said calmly, unfettered by the witches’ intent stare, “a threat?”
Pansy smirked. “Perhaps.”
“Maybe around you a lot, that isn’t a bad thing,” Hermione murmured.
Pansy chuckled, leaning back languidly against the couch. “Maybe not.” Pansy eyed Hermione, her eyes settling on her head. “Although, I reckon that bushy hair of yours is enough of a threat.”
“As long as you keep out of it, Parkinson,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.
“ Zabini .”
“Right,” Hermione glanced at Mrs. Zabini , who had her arms folded and brow raised in an expectant kind of way as if she knew what was going on in Hermione’s head. She probably did, Hermione reckoned. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised you and Zabini were a thing. I always thought you wanted Malfoy.”
Pansy scrunched up her nose and patted Scorpius on the head twice, tentatively as if he were a puppy she was afraid might bite. The little boy side-glanced at Pansy curiously before turning back to his work. “I did hang around Draco and feed his ego,” Pansy exhaled after a moment.
Hermione half-smiled. “Well, you guys were dating so — ”
“ Oh, Salazar, no ,” Pansy said vehemently. “Yes, we lost our first kiss to each other but we did not date… not in a serious sense anyways. He was a political opportunity and I was infatuated with the status that came with his name. But eventually he became — is — like a brother to me. And besides,” she smiled fondly, “Draco doesn’t — he’s a proper pureblood if there ever was one. Well-bred, always in line. Since we were kids he was controlled, quite the unflinching rule follower just like yourself. Malfoys — they pride themselves on their etiquette and control. Because when they lose control, especially for something they want?” Pansy’s lips twisted into a secretive smile. “Besides, I needed someone less uptight. Blaise stays neutral, but he’s observant and knows when to play his cards. He’s unafraid, a good listener, and does not try to change me. I - I never understood love like that, never saw it,” she said, more quietly now, “one where the other wants you not for what you could offer, but who you are.”
Pansy gave Hermione a look she could not decipher. Surprisingly, Hermione found herself not uncomfortable by it.
“You ready to go, Pans?” Blaise said when he and Draco walked into the room. Pansy smiled widely at him as he helped her up. Hermione made to stand up and almost jolted in surprise when a firm hand wrapped around her elbow to help her get to her feet.
When she straightened, she caught a shared look between the couple.
“Daddy, up!” Draco smiled and ruffled his son's hair. He felt a little more relaxed now after having had a moment with Blaise. It had felt like he was back in the Slytherin common rooms again, before the Dark Lord and everything got so fucked up. Blaise had always been silent and observing, not one to impose unwarranted advice. He never probed into Draco’s problems yet somehow seemed to know what was on his mind.
“So, you and Granger?” Blaise smiled smoothly as he put his hands in his pocket and leaned against the side of the safehouse. Draco did the same.
“We’re mission partners,” Draco answered carefully. “What about it?”
Blaise gave him a long look before grinning. “Nothing,” he replied, patting Draco on the shoulder before straightening and heading back inside.
“Oh, before I go,” Blaise said as he handed Hermione and Draco two metallic-like objects. Hermione bit her lip, watching Draco’s confused expression as he turned the object in his hand.
“It’s a muggle cellphone, mate,” Blaise explained with an amused expression.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he scowled.
“Communication, dear,” Pansy snickered. “Owl’s are definitely going to be intercepted and we can’t risk it. Thanks to Theo’s curiosity for muggles, he found a way to acquire these communication devices. We’ve been using them and even I admit they’re quite brilliant.”
Draco’s face remained skeptical. Hermione bit her lip harder when Draco flinched when Pansy flipped the phone open.
“You’ve got mine, Blaise, Theo, and Granger’s contact details on there… ”
Hermione met eyes with an amused Blaise as Draco, with pinched brows, used his pointer finger to click the buttons experimentally as Pansy instructed him from his shoulder.
“ … and there — clicking that button sends the message.”
Milliseconds later, Hermione’s phone vibrated.
DM: Hello.
Hermione’s lips twitched.
HG: Hi, Draco.
Draco flinched again when his phone buzzed. He squinted at the screen suspiciously before pulling out his glasses and reading the message carefully. The spectacles gleamed in the light, framing cheekbones. It was an odd sight, Draco Malfoy using a muggle cellphone, Blaise Zabini smiling genuinely and Pansy Parkinson Zabini giving her a look of begrudging approval.
***
The night was clear as Draco and Hermione approached the abandoned manor. The vast structure loomed ominously under the fleshy moon as vines crept up the dilapidated walls as if searching for entry into every crevice. The walls were cracked in places but the structure seemed to hold. Silently, Hermione cast a charm to check if there were occupants in the house as Draco stood watch. There wasn’t a sound except for the rustle of overgrown leaves and the scutter of mice.
“All clear,” Hermione whispered.
Despite the ease in which they got through the rickety fence and the large mahogany double doors, they kept their guard up. The inside was just as eerie as the outside. The old abandoned pureblood manor held high marbled ceilings and grand staircase that split down the middle, framing a rusted family crest of the Fawley family — a Heron, colors of burnt orange and blue, now dulled and covered in thorny vines.
The True Order had sent them to the abandoned Fawley manor to get information from a ghost who resided there, Gisella Fawley. Recently, there had been attacks on a small muggle town nearby as well as sightings of Voldemort and Belltrix residing in the area for an entire week before leaving without a trace. The area was not too far from Little Hangleton, where the Gaunts had resided. It was too much of a coincidence. After some research, Draco and Hermione had found mention of the Fawley family in the journal of a wizard named Portius Plagmy. Specifically, he had described a witch named Gisella Fawley, a local gossip during the time the Gaunts had been at the height of wizarding society and a close family friend of theirs.
The manor was massive, sprawling with crystal chandeliers muted by a veil of silver dust. Hermione could only imagine the splendor it held back then, the delicate golden filigree glimmering on the walls, accenting the deep blue velvet curtains that just beyond held a view of the gardens through the floor length French windows.
“Did they mention when the ghost was last sighted?” Draco asked as they crept through one of the drawing rooms.
“A ghost that matched the descriptions of Gisella Fawley was spotted two days ago by one of Moody’s scouts. From what he reported, there have been some accounts from the muggle town nearby as well that this place is haunted.”
Draco nodded in acknowledgement, shining his lumos on an old painting. The condition of the painting was as expected — dusty and dull. What was curious however was the lack of a subject, as the only thing displayed was a maroon velvet backdrop.
“Draco, where — ”
Hermione paused at the sight of brown eyes peeking on the side of the frame. Draco’s eyes narrowed.
“Who are you?” The dark eyes narrowed back at Draco before an imperious looking bald-headed man straightened himself into the frame.
“I beg your pardon?” The man in the portrait straightened the lapels of his navy coat. From what Hermione gathered from his attire, a monocle shining on his pocket and a white kerchief, he was from some time in the 1800s.
“I said, who are you?” Draco repeated, an impassive expression on his face. The portrait scoffed, a high flush staining on his cheek before he composed himself and looked down at them both with clear offense.
“Look, we are trying to find a ghost, Gisella — ”
“You dare speak to me mudbloo — ”
Before Hermione could react to the slur, the man’s speech was cut off when a sharp slash across the portrait tore the canvas in half. Draco stood slightly in front of her, a livid look on his face as he continued to point his wand at the cowering man.
“Say that word again and I’ll make sure every portrait of yours and every book that holds any evidence of your existence is eradicated from memory.” The portraits' eyes widened. “Now, answer her questions.”
The man nodded frantically. Hermione cleared her throat. “We’re looking for Gisella Fawley.”
“You’re not the first,” the portrait said carefully, eyes flitting between them. Hermione and Draco shared a look.
“Who else has been looking?” she asked.
“A man with dark hair. And a woman, also dark haired but hers were wild. She had quite the temper.” The portrait pursed his lips. “They came looking for Gisella — walked past me however, which I did not mind, mind you.”
“Do you know what they were looking for?” Hermione’s mind processed the information. If they could just find out what Voldemort was looking for, they could finally get a better idea of his plans. And then maybe they could stop all the bodies of all those children piling up.
“No. Gisella,” he hesitated, “was shaken. Wouldn’t speak for days.”
“Is she still in hiding?” Draco asked urgently.
“Well, you’re in luck,” the portrait sniffed, brushing his sleeve. “It’s her Deathday today.”
Draco cocked his head.
“Do you hear that?” Hermione whispered. True enough, an odd melody quivered in the stale air.
“It seems to be coming from the ballroom,” Draco replied, pivoting away towards the sounds, the portrait visibly relaxing as they left and entered the dark dusty halls. Moments later they walked into a vast hall, more grand than the rest. Here the music was more clear as it resounded and echoed against the cracked marbled floors. A faint blue glow pulsed through two large doors at the end of the hallway.
Once they reached the door, it swung open to reveal a pinch-faced ghost in a Victorian era gown, her eyes shrewd as she assessed them. Behind her, music echoed with what looked like hundreds of ghosts dancing and chattering.
“Invitation?” she droned, eyeing the pair.
“Malfoy,” Draco said coolly. The ghost paused, pencil-thin eyebrow raising then nodded in recognition.
“And you?” she said, turning to Hermione shrewdly.
“She’s my guest,” Draco replied, staring down the ghost.
“I see… I’m afraid Lady Fawley’s Deathday celebration has a strict dress code.” The ghost sneered at Hermione with evident disdain.
“Not a problem,” Draco drawled. Draco waved his wand, transfiguring his clothes into formal traditional dress robes. Hermione barely had a moment to get a full look at the clean cut of his shoulders from the way the robes framed his lithe form before he waved his wand in her direction. Hermione gasped as her clothes unraveled before her then cinched at the waist. The cotton of her shirt softened into delicate sheer fabric that encompassed her figure and billowed into a wide skirt. It was simple but finely cut. It was periwinkle.
“Her hair,” the ghost interrupted, looking distastefully at her head. Just as Hermione lifted her wand, a spell on her lips, Draco caught her wrist.
“Leave it,” he said without looking at her, instead, glaring at the ghost. The ghost simply sniffed and stepped aside. Draco’s icy expression never left his face, only going colder when he turned his face up, looking down at the ghosts in the ballroom who whispered at their approach, his grip on her wrist firm and unfaltering.
The cavernous ballroom glowed from the light bluebell flames floating above them. Cobwebs hung daintily from the high ceiling, silvery like threads of stolen starlight. There was a kind of odd satisfaction in the peeling paint, discolored wood, and broken glass that reflected the immortal beauty of the ghosts. It felt more real somehow, seeing all the wealth and splendor reduced to nothing. Ash to ash, dust to dust.
The ghosts continued to watch as they crossed the ballroom. Their transparent forms were illuminated, emitting a pale glow that was simultaneously enchanting and threatening. She remembered when she first learned about ghosts, how wizards could leave an imprint of themselves on the earth, an impression of their soul. Attachment , that’s what Minerva had told when she asked why they stayed. Hermione wondered if she died right then if she would become a ghost. She wondered if when she departed the earth, an impression of her soul would remain, searching for Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room, her parents chatting softly on the porch of her old home, and a bushy-haired girl lost in a pile of books in the Hogwarts library.
“I believe that’s her,” Draco murmured, pulling her from her thoughts. They approached the center of the room where a toad-faced ghost in extravagant 19th century robes was holding court. Her locks were curled tightly like ribbons, bobbing behind her as she sharply moved her head and gesticulated exaggeratedly.
“ — and can you believe she had the audacity to show up with her lover, parading him in front of her husband who killed them,” she tittered, fanning a tattered fan rapidly. “And then — oh hello,” the ghost tittered, a saccharine smile on her face as her eyes fell upon Draco then processed to assess him up and down.
Draco grimaced. “Lady Fawley, I presume.”
“Indeed,” she replied, making her way towards them, the crowd parted for her, sending them curious looks. “And who might you be?”
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” he replied, nodding his head curtly. “And this is my date, Hermione Granger.”
Hermione startled from his grasp then froze when his hand simply floated and rested heavily on the small of her back.
“Malfoy — yes,” Gisella’s large eyes glittered. “Granger however… from France perhaps?”
“Lady Fawley, we were wondering if we could ask you some questions,” he began, ignoring her inquiry. “Given your connections, we were hoping you would indulge us.”
“Well,” she preened, “I am quite connected. In fact, it took a fortnight just narrowing the guest list for my Deathday Ball. As you can imagine, a lot of those men from the hunt wanted an invite. Boarish lot. And just because I indulged their captain in a little tête-à-tête that one time in the gardens — ”
“You see,” Hermione interrupted, “we were wondering if you have anything on the Gaunt family.” Lady Fawley’s face paled as much as a ghost’s could.
“I’m afraid I’m unable to help,” she said in a clipped voice.
“Lady Fawley, please,” Hermione pushed. “There was another man and woman who came here searching for you. Dark haired.”
“And what do you want?” she squeaked, her eyes frantically searching for an escape.
“Just to help,” Draco replied gravely. “All we want is information and we’ll leave.”
Lady Fawley paused, narrowing her eyes at them. “You lot promise to stop coming back? I know I’m quite covetted, it simply cannot be helped!” She took her fan out again and placed a hand on her chest. “ But the both of you seem more genuine, I can tell you see. Unlike that dark-haired wench. Her companion was a charming boy, tried his charms on but bah! I’ve seen the likes of him before — men and their charms thinking they can manipulate me! I gave them the information they needed after they locked me in that box with some dark object. But I’ll do you a favor since it would please me if you thwarted whatever they were looking for. In exchange for a little… request of course. It is my Deathday after all.”
Hermione bit her lip. “Alright,” she replied before Draco could protest. It’ll be fine , she tried to convey silently before he sighed and broke eye contact. “The information, Lady Fawley? We suspect it's related to the Gaunts?”
“Oh, the Gaunts, yes yes,” she tittered. “Quite dreadful what happened to Corvinus Gaunt.”
Gisella looked from left to right, eyes wide as she beckoned them closer.
“He liked to visit that muggle town. Specifically, establishments of… ill repute ,” she whispered scandalously. “And rumor has it, he fathered a bastard child!”
Draco’s brows furrowed. “And the child? What happened?”
“Oh, dear. Well, no surprise, really,” she shrugged. “Rumor has it that the child ended up a squib and was left with the mother’s muggle family with no contact with the wizarding world whatsoever. Quite the secret they kept hidden. I mean it wouldn’t do for a family notorious for their pure blood to be caught with a half-blood bastard! A squib at that!”
Draco and Hermione looked at each other, their minds clicking at the information. Whatever Voldemort was doing in the muggle town, whatever he came here for, it had to do something with the Gaunt who was a squib.
“Is that all the information they wanted? Is it all you have?” Hermione prodded.
“Well, yes.” The ghost flicked her wrist and conjured a goblet that smelled of spoiled wine. “Don’t know how it could be valuable, but it seemed to mean a lot to the dark-haired man and woman. Enough to lock me in a bloody box,” she huffed before taking a sip from her glass.
“Thank you,” Draco nodded at Lady Fawley. “Our felicitations for your Deathday. We must be going — ”
“Oh, heavens no!” Gisella exclaimed with one hand on her chest. “You owe me a request, remember? You can’t possibly leave without joining one dance . Everyone’s intrigued that I have living guests — and a Malfoy at that! Maestro !”
Just then a melody struck up by the ghost quartet. Hermione’s protest was short-lived when she was pulled in the middle of the ballroom by a strong force. Before she could process what was happening, a hand wrapped around her waist, another slipping into her own hand. Hermione looked up only to meet grey eyes watching her. As if in a trance, Hermione placed her other hand on Draco’s shoulder unable to meet his gaze. Draco took the lead, guiding them around the room, the music swelling and her skirt cascaded softly across the marble floor.
“Didn’t know you were quite the dancer,” Hermione murmured as Draco expertly spun her, keeping her steady as she fumbled to keep up with some semblance of grace.
His eyes lit with mirth as he watched her glance worriedly at her feet. “Purebloods are taught from a young age,” he shrugged.
She hummed, feeling herself loosen up a little. “Ah yes, didn’t Theo mention those extra tutoring lessons to equip you with wooing all the witches?”
“Not all the witches. Just you, Granger.” Hermione scowled but was unable to hold it when he smiled at her. It was soft and relaxed. It unsettled her.
The other ghosts joined them on the dance floor, spinning and gliding in perfect harmony. Some brushed against her, eliciting a cold shiver like icy fingers grazing the back of her neck. Hermione watched for a moment as the ghosts danced, their pale bodies floating as they participated in something so human. She caught smiles and whispers between a couple with their heads barely attached, longing looks between two male ghosts that made her heart stutter.
“My mother loved to dance.” Hermione’s head snapped back to Draco’s. The voice had been so soft, she thought she imagined it. His eyes were distant as a peaceful expression settled on his face as he also observed the couples around them. “When I was too young to join the balls my parents hosted, I would sneak into one of the hidden passages and watch them dance. Mother would catch me of course, but kept it a secret. When all the guests left and my father got ready for bed, I remember the lights finally all off, the manor’s ballroom bathed in nothing but moonlight. It was then my mother would call to me from the shadows, still in her beautiful ball gown, barefoot and hair unraveled. Then she would ask me for a dance.”
Draco didn’t often speak of Narcissa, but she could see how much he loved his mother, how much he missed her in the reverence in his eyes.
“I would step on her feet of course and only come up to her chest, but she would let me lead. She would also give me some pointers on what not to do when I one day got a chance to dance with a witch,” he said fondly..
“Let me guess, the future Lady Malfoy would have to be an effortless dancer, agreeable of course?” Draco looked down at her with pinched brows then huffed before shaking his head.
“Actually, she said only a witch that can hold her own, who is unafraid to look a man in the eye when they dance and step on his foot when he is out of line would be worthy of the betrothal ring on my mother’s finger.”
“So you went around insulting pureblood witches until they stepped on your feet. Interesting pureblood custom but I’m sure it would have been no challenge for you as I can imagine that even the most agreeable pureblood witch would find you insufferable,” Hermione drawled.
“No, Granger, I was quite the charmer mind you. Look more surprised, why don’t you.” Hermione squeaked when Draco pulled her closer, only then realizing how much his form dwarfed hers. “Contrary to popular belief, my mother was not afraid of my father despite the controlling man that he was.”
Hermione blinked in surprise, seeing the quiet Lady Malfoy keeping Lucius Malfoy in place.
“Hence it was no surprise she laughed when she heard you punched me in the face for being an arse,” he grumbled. The mood lightened considerably and Hermione let out a breathless laugh. Draco smiled back at her then gave her a twirl. The world spun in colors of pale blue and burning silver before she found herself steadied and flush against him, his arms warm around her.
“You remembered,” she stated after a moment, searching his gaze. When he remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate, she continued. “The Yule ball. My dress… it was the same color.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Really, Granger,” he drawled.
“What? ”she asked, genuinely confused as they continued to waltz across the room, the music building higher and higher.
“I can assure you, Granger, no one forgot what you looked like that night,” Draco responded, eyes distant for a moment.
A furious blush warmed her cheeks. Surely… “Yes, I suppose it was quite a shock seeing the bushy-haired and buck-toothed swot clean a bit,” she said casually, ignoring the sting in her chest.
She had mixed feelings about that night. It was the first time she felt pretty , as if she was seen for the first time as a girl, not just a brain. The shock and compliments had been pleasant, but it had felt slightly backhanded. Even from Ron and Harry. It hurt — their surprise. She was that unrecognizable. And at the same time she hated herself for giving into wanting to look nice, enjoying it for once and allowing herself for a moment to be a pretty girl in a dress for one night.
Draco narrowed his eyes at her as if reading her mind. “We’re not meant to be singularly defined or put in categories or even houses, Granger,” his tone was more serious now, his gaze more insistent. “We can’t be forced to be static and labeled, whether as the Golden Girl… or the Malfoy heir. We can change, grow, and be defined by more than one category. People often only choose to see a single part of you simply because it's the only part they are capable of accepting, the part that fits in with their narrative of you in their heads. I think that night you showed you weren’t only a witch with a big brain — there was more of you. You are not responsible for how people react to you — if they are intimidated by your mind, your magic… your blood. It's their shortcoming if they can only handle one part of you and not see you as a whole or allow you to grow out of whatever image they have of you in your head. Never stifle yourself or hold yourself back to make others feel comfortable around you.”
Hermione’s eyes prickled, left at a loss at what to say. She had not thought about it that way. There was always that turmoil of playing a role that everyone wanted her to play. In the first year, she had to learn how to filter her words in fear of not being accepted for who she fully was and who she was becoming. But perhaps all those aspects of herself she had tried to stifle, those aspects of herself she had discovered along the way as she grew up and tried to deny were parts she just had to accept — she was sometimes insufferable, stubborn, and she fucked up and made mistakes. She could be angry, unhappy, and even afraid. Because if she could not accept herself, accept that she was not the same and would change, she would never be able to free herself from the restraints of how others perceived her or wanted her to be. If she didn’t start with herself, how could she expect to do the same for others, like Pansy, Theo, Blaise. And Draco.
A dancing couple passed through her, the sensation like plunging into an icy lake. She gasped, instinctively moving closer until her nose just brushed his jaw. Draco’s fingers dug into her waist, his face dipping slightly, breath ragged against her collar bone. They did not speak, but the silence was loud as the space between them filled with the music swelling into a crescendo, the warmth of their bodies, and the heavy pulse of their human hearts.
Hermione turned slightly and looked up. Draco’s head lifted too, his eyes darkening as he gazed back at her from underneath pale lashes. Draco’s lips parted in a soft exhale that caressed her lips and brushed softly against her cheek like a ghostly kiss.
The melody simmered to an end but continued to echo through the cavernous hall. Draco released her, breaking every line of contact except the grip on her hand. Wordlessly, he bowed, silver eyes burning up at her as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. Hermione could not pull her eyes away. The orchestra started up again, commencing the next dance and prompting the couples to swirl again. Hermione and Draco remained unmoving however.
In a sea of dancing undead, she had never felt so alive.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh my updating schedule has been such a mess!! I had planned to isolate myself over the holidays to try and get a head start on editing and giving you guys more updates but unfortunately I couldn’t get away from real people :( I really hope you guys enjoy this chappie - real life is still a bit wonky for me and probably will be until the 10th but it's my birthday this January 5th so I wanted to make sure I got a chapter in for you guys to kinda celebrate especially since we have a Deathday ball in this one!! I was really excited to share this scene and had a lot of fun playing with the imagery and tension. Also I tried so hard to research Gaunt history but it was a struggle and so forgive me for any inaccuracies - again this fic is just for fun. More to come!! And again, all your comments truly make my day so much better T_T thank you and love you all!!
Chapter 21: Chapter XX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“The sea seems bound to the deep abyss, crucified,
staring at the high heavens, about to escape,
violent, bellowing, nailed to its black bed.”
— Vicente Aleixandre
Hermione scribbled furiously on her notebook before pausing briefly to flick her wrist, the silent spell she cast flipping the pages of three books at the same time. She couldn’t find any information on the squibs of the Gaunt line and what she had found regarding the use of blood magic and souls was sparse at best. She did discover however that despite how ‘diluted’ blood can be, even if a magical bloodline bore squibs, magic still lay dormant in their blood. This finding was considered false by many pureblood wizards but Hermione reckoned their arguments were not backed up by unbiased evidence.
On top of her frazzled state due to her research, she couldn’t get the image of heavy lidded eyes, pale blue under the phantom glow of ghosts and the sensation of a warm hand on her lower back out of her mind. She cursed the bastard who didn’t seem as put off by that night.
“This Shakespeare fellow, his writing is dense, doesn’t make sense,” he continued, “Who makes up their own words — and seriously, tragic love stories? I mean this Romeo fell in love after knowing Juliet for what? Thirty seconds? Right after he had just been pining over someone else?”
Hermione gritted her teeth. She had gone to the library first thing in the morning to indulge in some light reading as an escape from her research. When she arrived, however, Draco was already sitting there, glasses on as he skimmed a copy of Romeo and Juliet in that infuriating casual grace of his as he lounged on the armchair.
“ — Shakespeare requires careful attention and close reading to deconstruct the meaning behind his prose. And Romeo and Juliet shouldn’t be treated as a love story! It’s more complex than that! You can’t just — ” she barreled on, unable to stop herself. The arrogant git .
“Please, Granger,” he drawled, “this is just as bad as Gilderoy Lockhart’s work. Now that was absolute rubbish, and to think so many fawned over him when he taught at Hogwarts.”
At her silence, he looked up, wide eyed at the traitorous blush on her face.
“Granger, really? That — ”
“Not a word,” she gritted out as his lips twitched behind a slender finger. “Anyways, Shakespeare’s influence — ”
“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged. Now my sin has been taken from my lips to yours.” His eyes never left hers as the words left his lips, slow and deliberate. Intentional. They echoed through the morning air, beckoning to her like some forbidden wine.
“What – how — ” Hermione sputtered and flushed when his brow arched when he caught her staring at his lips.
“This may surprise you but I’ve read Shakespeare before,” he shrugged as if it were common knowledge. “Secretly kept in my personal library of course… ”
“That doesn’t make sense — ”
“Surprised that the Death Eater can appreciate literature, even Muggle literature?” His eyes held a challenge in them. When she couldn’t form a response he smirked and stood, tucking the book under his arm.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably as her period cramps started up again. She felt as if she would lash out any moment as another sharp pain in her lower abdomen hit her.
“Not now, Malfoy,” she growled upon hearing the door open. “I’ve come close to trailing this potential lead —”
Draco looked at the cranky witch babbling before him, her hair in complete disarray from the haphazard bun she tried to subdue her curls in, her wand looking ridiculous pierced through it.
“ — if it weren’t for the shoddy citations I would have some measure of confidence in the findings — ”
The witch reached over to grab a massive tome, laying it with a heavy thump in front of her, the sleeve of her oversized shirt slipping off her shoulder, rendering it bare. Involuntarily, his eyes flickered to it before snapping away. Honeyed light poured in from the window behind her as she sat there with a small frown on her face, her fingers stained with ink as well as some of it smeared on her nose and cheeks.
“ — so if you're here for another verbal sparring, I must ask you to leave — ” Hermione broke off, her eyes snapping up when a muted thud cut her off. She blinked rapidly at the wisp of smoke curling in the air from the cup of tea infront of her next to an evidently-handled-by-tiny-hands piece of chocolate.
“I’ll have lunch within the hour,” Draco stated nonchalantly from above her. By the time Hermione lifted her head to look at him, all she caught was a brief flash of white-blond hair as the door closed.
***
“ No! I no like bwacli!” Scorpius howled as his father held a fork pierced with the vegetable to his mouth.
“Scorpius,” Draco said in a stern voice, “veggies are good for you — I read all about it in a book,” — he glared at Hermione who let out a snicker — “that it’s good for growing boys!”
“Is yucky!” Scorpius continued to yell, sneering a very Malfoy sneer at the green vegetable. Beef and broccoli stew — it was one of the basic dishes Hermione had been able to teach Draco when one rainy day when she had been drained as she prepared their meal, he had asked her to teach him basic cooking spells. Just as he was in Potions class, Draco was precise and exacting with his measurements and calculations, constantly scowling when she would tell him he would have to adjust or taste to know when the food turned out right.
“How about this,” Hermione said soothingly, eyes on Draco's plate that had barely any broccoli on it, “daddy will eat broccoli every time you do.”
Draco bristled. Scorpius watched them curiously then turned to Draco expectantly.
Ignoring Hermione's smug look, Draco took a bite of the broccoli and tried to hide his disgusted face at the utterly bland vegetable that tasted of boiled socks. “See? Good.”
Scorpius started giggling at him and Draco glared at Hermione who was biting her lip, trying to hold her laugh in. Her shoulders only started shaking however at his scathing look. He found he could not keep his glare when her face broke out into a grin.
***
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his muggle sweater and trousers as he and Hermione walked the muggle streets of Hangleton to find leads on the squib Gaunt. They had only been walking for a couple of minutes but his hands felt empty without the steadiness of his hawthorn wood wand. Moments earlier when Hermione presented him with the muggle clothes, he kept silent about the sparse quality of the navy sweater she had given him. But it wasn’t really about the quality of the clothing that set him off, but more of the way muggles liked their clothes very fitted to accentuate the human form. Hermione had assured him with a playful eye roll that it was normal as she flaunted around in those ridiculously skin-tight trousers she called leggings . He had not commented on this of course, choosing to be the gentleman he was raised to be and avoid all eye contact from the Southern region of Hermione’s person. To his disgust however, he found that the muggle men could not do the same as they meandered the cobblestone streets. Hermione was oblivious to the invasive leering and also too distracted to notice Draco looming behind her, muttering spells for temporary blindness at the men. He had considered hexing their bollocks off, but he reckoned the stubborn witch in front of him would hex his off for using magic on the muggles no matter how much they deserved it.
“There! An antique shop!” Hermione said ecstatically, her nose finally out of the map. “Maybe we can get some information from the shopkeeper.”
The street split into two and Hermione marched towards the right path and into a tiny shop. A small bell chimed as they entered the rickety door, the smell of parchment and orange wax in the air.
“Hullo!” an auburn-haired girl behind the desk chirped. “How can I help you?”
“Oh, hi,” Hermione said, pulling along a broody Draco who glared skeptically at the shelves and the old lady dozing off on a chair. “We’re here on a little historical trip, you see, to look into some family history for a friend of my mum’s! And we were wondering if you knew more about them.”
“Of course! You can call me Millie!” The girl eyed Draco appreciatively, completely ignoring Hermione’s outstretched hand. Draco looked down at Millie imperiously before opening his mouth.
“Dra — ”
“Gilderoy!” Hermione blurted out. Draco choked.
“Oh, Gilderoy ,” Millie batted her eyelashes, “what a lovely name!”
Hermione snickered. They couldn’t use their real names after all in case Voldemort had spies around.
“And this ,” Draco said in a clipped voice, stepping next to Hermione, “is Dolores .”
Hermione muffled her sputtering at being named after the evil bitch with a cough.
“Dolores, nice to meet you,” Millie murmured with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “So who’s this family you’re looking into?”
“We’re looking for any information on the Gaunts,” Draco replied.
“Or the Devonshires — anyone related to that branch of the family.” Hermione said, now focused on the task. She had been able to trace a Gaunt descendant marrying into the Devonshire muggle line. She hoped it would lead them closer to whatever Voldemort was after.
“The Devonshires sound familiar!” Millie perked up. “Some family mementos are donated here and I believe there were some journals left with us. I think they should be on the shelves to the right or the ones to the back.”
“Perfect. Gilderoy ,” Hermione emphasized, “you take the right and I’ll take the back shelves.”
Draco merely nodded before they separated to begin their search.
Hermione grinned when after a couple of minutes searching she found a journal with the name Ernest Devonshire on it. It was an old tattered thing with stained pages but the black cursive scrawl was legible. With the book in her hand, she went to find Draco but as she approached the right side of the shop, she paused upon seeing a head of blond hair and an auburn one.
Not knowing what possessed her, Hermione stayed still and silently watched from behind a shelf of knicknacks. Their heads were bent over a large book that looked like a directory of some sort, their backs turned to her.
“ — quite lovely profiteroles. It’s just down the alley — ”
Hermione watched Draco pause mid-way through flipping the page with his long fingers. Her stomach twisted when the girl stepped closer to him, pushing her well endowed chest forward and batting her long-lashed eyes at him innocently. Hermione immediately looked away from the scene, missing the narrowing of Draco’s eyes as he stepped back from the girl.
“Found it,” Hermione said breathlessly a moment later upon composing herself, finally taking the opportunity to step out and make herself known. Draco turned towards her, an almost imperceptible relaxing of his shoulders. “It’s Ernest Devonshire’s diary and it might contain some clues about their family history.”
Hermione flipped through one of the pages she had marked and Draco stepped closer to her to have a look, his chest ghosting her arm as she pointed out the location of Ernest Devonshire’s home.
“Oh, how long have you two been dating?” Mille’s voice interrupted. Hermione looked up and blinked rapidly at the girl, her cheeks heating at the curious gaze that flickered between her and Draco. Before she could form a coherent response, a large arm draped around her shoulders. Hermione looked up in horror at amused silver eyes.
“Almost a year,” Draco drawled. “Isn’t that right, darling?” A million spells went through Hermione’s head that she knew could hex the infuriating smile off his pleased little face.
“How sweet,” Millie replied softly, almost deflated.
“Indeed,” Hermione murmured, wrapping one arm around his waist and pinching him. He flinched, but only pulled her closer.
“Well that wasn’t so bad,” Hermione commented as they walked out the shop and continued down the road. Draco hummed in response, evidently lost in thought.
They continued their walk with Hermione skimming the journal as they went on, occasionally a large hand pulling her by the elbow when a shrub or pole would invade her path. Just as she was getting to the description of the family house, she was jerked to an abrupt halt. Hermione looked up at Draco curiously as he perused a little stall with pastries on display.
“What can I get for you dearies?” The old plump woman behind the stand smiled warmly at them.
“Two profiteroles please,” Draco said coolly, pulling an obscene wad of muggle bills from his pocket. Hermione hissed, pulling down his wrist, hoping it didn’t attract attention.
“Oh, let him be a gentleman, dear, if he wants to treat his sweetheart,” the woman said with amused eyes as she packed the two profiteroles into bags. Hermione smiled back awkwardly, pulling a bill from the stash and placing it on the counter as Draco stuffed the money back in his pocket nonchalantly.
“Here you go.”
Draco thanked her, taking both the bags.
“Oh, did you want some?” Hermione’s hand paused midway from reaching one of the bags. She scowled at Draco who lifted an eyebrow, amusement ghosting behind his eyes at her evident ire.
“Ah young love!” the woman gushed.
“You know I’m just teasing, darling ,” Draco snickered. “Here, have a bite.” His words were laced with a challenge as he took a profiterole from the bag and lifted it to her lips.
Hermione smiled acidly at him, impulsively standing on her toes and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Draco blinked when she pulled back. With a self-satisfied grin, she snatched the pastry out of his hand and walked away, not before catching the high flush to his cheeks.
Draco caught up with her a little later, making sure enough time had passed for the roaring in his blood to settle and for the burning sensation of soft lips against his cheeks to numb.
Just as he had gotten his bearings, a soft moan sounded from the bushy-haired witch next to him as she took a bite into the cream filled center of the profiterole. Draco paused, a soft shiver going down his spine and resounding through his occlumency walls, awakening something in him that had been dormant for longer than he could remember. There is a meadow and a manor with many doors… He swallowed.
“D-a-co?” Hermione said with a stuffed mouth, powdered sugar dusting her lips.
“It’s nothing,” he grumbled, forging ahead of her determinedly, “just thought I saw something.”
He ignored her questioning look and kept walking, finally taking a bite of the pastry.
“That shop was a good choice,” Hermione chattered as she finished up her last bite.
“The girl at the shop recommended it,” Draco replied, shrugging.
“Ah, I see.” There was a pause, the kind of pause Draco knew signaled that there was information Hermione Granger wanted to know. He turned to her expectantly.
“She was nice and pretty, wasn’t she?” the witch mumbled, oddly avoiding his gaze as she continued down the road. “Mille, the shopkeeper.”
“I suppose,” he said slowly, not knowing where this conversation was headed.
“Would you say she’s… the datable type? She is quite bubbly and I know men like that sort of thing. I mean back in Hogwarts I remember Ron would comment on how witches with bubbly personalities really — ” Draco sneered at the word bubbly . Annoying or lack of regard for personal space were better expressions to describe the girl in the shop.
“To some, maybe.”
“... and you?” Draco was caught off guard by the question. He tried assessing Hermione’s face, but it looked closed off and distracted as she dusted the powdered sugar off her fingertips.
“I’ll admit that she is pretty, but only in the objective sense,” he began. “I can see how she isn’t horrible looking, just like I can look at a bloke and say he’s objectively good looking. But that doesn’t mean I personally find them attractive . She can be attractive to other people and I can recognize it. But she isn’t attractive to me ,” he explained. He let her ponder for a minute upon seeing her thinking face.
What he said was true. Perhaps exposure to beautiful pureblood women who vied for his family’s fortune and reputation had desensitized him to their attractiveness. To him, objectively good-looking women didn’t get his attention, the same way he didn’t get tempted by the most elegant and fine jewelry. None of them made him feel anything — the women were always hollow inside and they elicited the same emotion from him.
“Yes,” Hermione murmured after a moment. “It’s the same with me I suppose. I’ve never been moved by looks,” she gave him a glare when she caught a snort and a muttered , you don’t say , under his breath not needing to read his mind knowing he was thinking about a certain red-head. “For me, to become attracted to someone, it would have to be based on their mind, their heart. Their soul.”
They walked in a contemplative silence as Draco finished off his profiterole. Draco paused after taking his last bite when Hermione giggled, covering her mouth.
“What?” he frowned, feeling self conscious as she continued to look at him with those large brown eyes of hers, her mouth forcing back a smile.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve got powdered sugar all over your face.”
Draco scowled, taking the napkin from the bag and dabbing his face. He was sure he had gotten it all off but the witch continued laughing from behind her hand.
Draco caught her wrist, his fingers slightly tightening around it. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” she responded, eyes suddenly narrowing defensively.
“Cover your mouth when you laugh,” he replied, irritated. He released her wrist.
“Oh, I — it’s a habit I guess? I don’t know if you remember,” she began, “during fourth year you accidentally hit me with that hex that elongated my teeth?”
He nodded, feeling nauseous that this formed habit was likely a result of another one of his doings.
“Well, I’ve always been insecure about my large two front teeth and before I let Madam Pomfrey shrink them a little more than their original size, I had already developed a habit of covering my mouth when I laughed.”
When he continued to look at her with confusion, she continued. “When I still had large teeth, people commented. Even Ron made his ‘jokes,’ no matter that he just wanted to be funny. I told myself I didn’t care. But when I saw a moving photograph of myself that Colin Creevy took that year, I couldn’t stand how I looked. I hated how vain I felt but it was difficult for me to act like I wasn’t affected,” she sighed, remembering with perfect clarity the photograph and every time she practiced smiling or laughing in the mirror. “Since then, I suppose the habit of covering my mouth has just been ingrained in me,” she chuckled. “It’s ridiculous I know.”
“You’re right,” Draco said stoically, resuming their walk. “It’s ridiculous. You should do away with the habit,” he muttered, startling her as he glanced at her from the side of his eye.
“I — I will.”
“Good.”
***
After checking out every location mentioned in the diary and finding nothing, they finally went to the cemetery. Those they had asked had said that the Devonshire line had ended a long while back and all their assets had been resold by the bank or donated. Draco and Hermione had learned however that their entire line had been buried in the town’s cemetery.
The sun hung heavy in the late afternoon sky when they arrived. To maximize time, they decided to split up and communicate via text messaging, much to Draco’s chagrin.
DM: Any pogress?
DM: profress
DM: progress
Hermione chuckled.
HG: No. You?
Hermione continued to search the tombstones, some covered in vines she had to pull off to decipher the inscriptions, some perfectly polished and left with fresh flowers. Most of them had died from old age, living a normal life. Hermione smiled sadly and almost in envy. There were many graves she had had to bury — all of someone who had died too young.
DM: Nothing. Came across the grave of someone who died from being a swot. Was worried for a second and had to check if it was yuor name on the tombstone.
DM: your
HG: Wow. Don’t worry, if that happens I’ll come back from the dead because imy.
When he didn’t respond, Hermione wondered if her sarcasm came through.
DM: imy???? What is imy??
Hermione grinned. She was about to type that it was an abbreviation for i miss you , but instead had a different thought in mind.
HG: It means ‘I’ll Murder You’
Hermione bit her lip.
DM: oh
There was a pause.
DM: imy too!!!
Hermione couldn’t stop her laughter then, praying that none of the poor bodies rolled in their graves because of her. When she finally recovered from where she was leaning on the side of a crypt, her vision cleared as she looked up across from her.
Hermione straightened and stepped forward to assess the structure, making out the dulled gold words, ‘ DEVONSHIRE ’ on the marble arch of the family crypt. She immediately messaged Draco to meet her.
It was almost nightfall by the time they both entered the crypt, scouring the names under the light of a lumos .
“Draco, look at this one.” Draco walked over to where Hermione stood. The wand light was enough to make out the fissures and cracks of one of the tombs. Michaela Gaunt …
“It’s been tampered with,” Hermione said, echoing his thoughts.
“The tomb reeks of Dark Magic,” Draco sneered.
“Most Dark rituals require some sort of offer or sacrifice,” Hermione explained out loud as she studied the cracks. “It requires a kind of violation of nature because all power comes with a price.”
“When the Dark Lord regained his first form, wasn’t the ritual done in the Riddle graveyard?”
“Yes — bone of the father… unwillingly taken,” Hermione murmured, shuddering at the memory of Harry’s tears and blood. And Cedric Diggory’s body.
“We know that his current form is faltering and his attempts at vessels aren’t working. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he was somehow using the remains of the squib Gaunt line to sustain himself with Dark Magic. The remains could also be a possible ingredient for a ritual to make his new vessels inhabitable somehow.”
Hermione agreed with him. Voldemort was becoming desperate to stay alive. She remembered the cobwebbed black veins all over his face, Harry’s face. The human body was born pure, uncorrupted. Even just a shard of Voldemort’s soul had had its effects on Harry’s body — nightmares, headaches, mood swings. She could only imagine what hosting that much darkness could do to a body.
After collecting samples of the magical signature around the tomb and doing a kind of ultrasound charm to check if there were any bones left, they opened the marble tomb of Michaela Gaunt. Hermione gasped in horror at the sight of the skeletal structure infront of her, the tiny pelvic bone and premature rib cage of a body that was laid in fetal position. It was the bones of a child.
“ Fuck ,” Draco cursed, pressing close to her. Hermione could not take her eyes away from the small form, perhaps about four years old. Michaela Gaunt .
“Over there,” Draco murmured, nodding to the skeleton’s arms. Hermione settled her emotions, knowing she had to concentrate. She shone her wand light closer.
“The bone that connects her shoulder to her elbow, the humerus bone is missing…”
Draco waved his wand in a series of complicated motions and chanted a spell under his breath that she immediately recognized. Moments later, runes glowed over the skeletal structure, burning white then darkening into a deep purple, confirming that dark magic was used on them.
“Let’s get this to Moody and Kings,” Hermione murmured. Draco only nodded. His face was solemn and cold in the pale wandlight like a frozen lake that held a dark undercurrent.
Just as they exited the crypt a noise from behind them froze them in their tracks.
“It’s just drunk muggles,” Hermione whispered, putting Draco’s wand down as four grimy men became visible under the moonlight. “We can’t use magic on them. Let’s just get out of here.”
Draco dipped his head in acknowledgement, but his face remained guarded and calculating. Just as they turned around one of the men called out. “‘Ello, sweetheart. Fancy a little fun? That bloke doesn’t seem like he could give you a good time.” The rest of the men hooted and jeered.
Hermione saw Draco’s jaw tick as his body went rigid. Putting a firm hand on his elbow, she urged him forward.
“Aww come on, luv,” another man shouted. “A shame — such a lovely arse too.”
Before Hermione could react, Draco had already ripped himself away from her, a loud crack resonating through the night air as the man who had made the comment fell to the ground.
“Draco, no!” Glass shattered as the other men attacked. Draco was a blur in the moonlight as the burly men threw their fists at him.
“Get the fuck off him!” To Draco’s horror, a tiny bushy-haired figure threw herself at one of the men who had caught him from behind. He didn’t have time to get to her however as the two other bastards went for him. Draco dodged an attack to his side, pivoting then sending a satisfying fist to his attacker's nose. The man collapsed.
Draco felt his knuckles bleed, but adrenaline spurred his body, helping him continue his fight against the other man who held a broken bottle in his fist. It only took him seconds to disarm the man, sending him to the ground with the other two. He met eyes with each of the three attackers, daring them to make another move. They cowered, stumbling to their feet and ran away.
A loud crunch sounded from behind him and he cursed for forgetting the stupid bint that joined the fight without magic. Draco paused however at the sight before him: Hermione Granger moving fluidly as she deflected and dodged her attacker’s sloppy attempts to hit her. At the perfect moment, she pivoted away from a fist aimed for her head and used the opening to land an uppercut. The man yelled and clutched his nose in pain. Without hesitation, she sent a swift kick to his crotch, causing him to fall to his knees then pass out from a well-timed stupefy whispered under her breath.
Hermione stood under the moonlight, her locks gently blowing in the wind. She lifted her chin high, her hand steady around her wand as she stared down at the man who dared attempt to hurt her.
Draco grinned wolfishly, Atta girl .
Notes:
A/N: Omg it's been sooooo long and I’m so terribly sorry. The transition back to real life after the holidays has been too much on me. I feel so overwhelmed by real life and everything is quite chaotic at the moment. I wish I had a Time Turner to make more time for everything. There’s too many commitments I have and I wish I didn’t have to take on so many, but I’m simply not in the financial position to be able to give up some things.
Thank you all again for your patience and continued support - it means so much to me. Your comments especially keep me going. I’m hoping things will be more breathable soon as I try to get into the rhythm of things but I hope you enjoy this piece for now and hopefully I’ll get the next chapters up more consistently like I promised.
Chapter 22: Chapter XXI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.
It is Her image.
She is the reckoning,
The end of all religion.
For She is a God,
And She is real.
And I have forsaken everything,
Except Her name.”
— B. L. Cortez
The safehouse by the lake was in horrible shape with moss sprawling across the moldy wooden panels and paint peeling as if recoiling from the structure. The only benefit Draco supposed was that the only other person stationed there was an old ex-Auror who, from what he had observed during Order meetings in passing, was an odd fellow that kept to himself.
“Daddy, how many sleeps we be here?” Scorpius whispered as he eyed the overgrown lawn.
“Three sleeps only, Scorp.”
“I’ll make some lunch, then we’ll check out the lake. What do you think?” Hermione asked, poking the boy's nose. Scorpius giggled in response and nodded enthusiastically.
Once they finally settled into their rooms, Draco and Scorpius sat on the rickety kitchen table as Hermione finished up the cooking. The ex-auror, Callum, was out on the porch, tinkering with a magical object that whirled and whizzed. The man had reminded Draco of Professor Slughorn — an odd childlikeness to him. He had simply nodded at them when they arrived, continuing to talk to himself and twitch. Hermione had assured him that he was a kind man and had explained that was hit by a curse that addled his mind a little, causing him to believe that inanimate objects could speak. He was still able to fight but was only asked to join missions that needed backup. Her assurances however did nothing to settle Draco when he caught the wizard reprimanding a clock.
“Here you go.” Hermione hovered a plate of pasta for each of them before settling in her own chair.
“Mini, can you pwease gimme more veggies?” Scorpius said, puffing up his little chest proudly. Draco rolled his eyes, not needing to see Hermione’s proud reaction.
“Yes, of course!” the witch beamed as she scooped more tomatoes onto his plate. “Such a good boy, eating veggies!” Scorpius grinned at her looking very pleased with himself, if not a bit smug.
“Have you found any more information on the location?” Draco asked as they ate.
“Nothing much,” Hermione frowned. “It’s not owned by any wizarding folk. From muggle public records Kings was able to retrieve, all we found was that it was an abandoned muggle building. They detected the Death Eater activity only a week ago. Moody suspects it's likely a training ground for new recruits.”
“I agree with Moody,” Draco said grimly. “From what I read in the Weaslette’s report, more and more Death Eaters have been recruited.”
“Well, we’ll find out tonight won't we,” she sighed.
“Done!” The little boy smiled with sauce smeared on his face.
“Scorpius…” Draco raised a brow.
“Oh!” he jolted, grabbing his napkin then dabbed his face. Draco ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Ah, I actually also made a little something!” Hermione left her seat and pulled out a plate of cupcakes. She had been in a rush so they were uneven, the frosting tilting precariously.
“Cuppa-cakes!”
Hermione placed them in the middle. “I haven’t made them in a while — my mum’s recipe. They’re not perfect but the frosting should be alright… ”
“I don’t know, Granger,” Draco said, eyeing the platter suspiciously. “Death by cupcakes?”
“Is good,” Scorpius chirped as he licked the yellow frosting. Hermione smiled as she took a bite of one — she sighed in relief. Scorpius was right; despite its shoddy appearance it was actually moist.
“Really, Malfoy, they actually turned out fine.” Hermione took a chunk of the desert between her fingertips and offered it for him to take. Draco’s eyes flickered from her face to the desert in front of him.
Hermione’s lips parted in surprise when he bent his head then his lips, softer than she expected, brushed against her fingertips. His tongue darted out, just grazing the pad of her thumb as he took the piece into his mouth. He pulled back, chewing slowly as he watched her from beneath heavy lids.
“Is yummy, daddy?” Scorpius asked passively as he concentrated on licking the frosting off his little palms.
“Delicious.”
***
The day had descended quickly into twilight, leaving nothing but silence and the sound of hummingbirds calling for their way home. They had arrived hours earlier but there was no sign of life in the building. Neither were there any indicators that people had been going in and out.
“There are wards, but they’re just basic security ones. Other than that there doesn’t seem to be anyone inside,” Hermione murmured from her perch beside Draco, disillusioned behind a bush.
“According to the scout’s report, they should have appeared an hour ago.”
“It’s getting late and the building doesn’t seem to be in use at the moment. Perhaps they haven’t properly set up the place for use yet.”
“Perhaps. Going inside could still give us some information — at least on what the facility is used for,” Draco replied.
Hermione agreed and moments after dismantling the wards, they crept towards the building, keeping their guards up for any sign of movement.
“All clear,” Draco signaled. The inside was damp and barren except for a single table in the middle of the room with an object glinting on it.
Hermione took one step towards the object but was jerked back by a firm hand as Draco stepped in front of her, trying to shield her from a glowing red ring of light that suddenly emitted from the object. It didn't do much however as the ripple passed through him then to her. Hermione stilled, waiting for something to happen but didn’t feel anything. She went to ask Draco if he felt anything but he had walked closer to get a better look at the object. He paled.
“ Fuck ,” she heard him curse, pure terror in his voice. “We need to get back to the safehouse! Now! ” Draco grabbed her arm and disapparated.
They appeared with a crack , the world a blur of dark colors until it settled into familiar shades of gray. Nothing appeared out of place with the safehouse except for the starkness of blood splattered across the front steps.
No.
Draco ran ahead of her and she followed, her heart beating frantically. Not Scorpius, please not Scorpius.
“Callum!” Hermione gasped as they came across the old man in the living room. His eyes were unseeing, blood pooling from his lips. Dead.
“Scorpius!” Draco growled, running up the stairs. Hermione ran behind him, wand up and waiting for any sign of movement. When they finally got to the room, Hermione choked as Draco knelt before a small bloody figure on the ground.
“Watson! Are you alright?” Draco rasped, muttering healing charms over the elf.
“Watson — Watson is alright,” the old elf coughed out. He was beaten to a pulp, the sight sickening and enraging Hermione. “They’ve taken the young Malfoy.”
“Where!” Draco yelled, eyes wild with panic.
“Watson is sorry. Watson doesn’t know.” The elf’s eyes began to flutter as he coughed out more blood. “Watson tries to stop them, Watson try to Diapparate, but they is using Dark Object to stop elves from apparating.”
“You did your best Watson.” Hermione’s voice shook. She crouched down, fingers trembling as she whispered more healing spells to stop any internal bleeding. “I’ll have backup coming to fix you up.”
“Yes but young Malfoy, young Malfoy,” he choked desperately, his eyes wild and unseeing.
“We’ll find him, don’t worry,” Hermione’s voice quivered as rage filled her veins. Whoever did this was going to pay. She couldn’t let herself think of what was happening to Scorpius right now, she couldn’t.
“It was a trap — earlier in the warehouse,” Draco said just as she sent her patronus to Kingsley for back up. “I know that Dark Object — it wasn’t working when I was a Death Eater but I believe it works now. It’s a device that alerts the owner of any trespassers. They must have set us up and lured us away while they attacked the safehouse and — ”
Hermione looked to where he was staring. On the wall was a message written in blood.
The Malfoy line shall be made pure again.
“ Fuck!” Draco hissed, smashing his fist against the wall.
Hermione quickly waved her wand, casting a charm on the blood along with a drop she pulled from Draco’s bleeding knuckles. “It’s — it’s not his blood,” she said with slight relief. “I can also track the owner of the blood with blood magic.”
Draco nodded sharply and remained silent. Hermione could tell he was trying to occlude but she could see he was on the brink of shattering. With shaky fingers, she twisted her wand movements harshly, muttering a spell under her breath. Blood magic was an old kind of magic, one of its first forms as it was born from life itself. Blood and magic — the only lead wizards had in seeking the answers to where their magic came from. And who deserved it.
Moments later, the words written in blood formed together into a circle then separated in rivulets to depict a map.
“There!” Hermione pointed to where a red triangle was painted. It was one of the Death Eater locations not too far out that she had scouted very early on. From what she could recall, it functioned as a rendezvous point. “I know where it is.”
Draco grabbed her arm and they Disapparated outside an abandoned dirty warehouse. There was no light hinting of any presence but they heard two low voices inside. On her signal they snuck up to one of the windows with broken glass.
“ — would have loved to give that brat a good beating. A shame the Dark Lord wants those kids unharmed…” Kids. There were more of them, Hermione shuddered. But the warehouse was empty except for the two Death Eaters. The kids must have been transferred off here.
“ Hermione ,” Draco whispered, his eyes dark as storm clouds before they screwed shut. His occlumency walls were breaking, she could feel his control hanging by the very edge.
Hermione clutched his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “We’ll find him, I promise.” She glanced back at the two Death Eaters. “Let’s have a little chat with the two in there.”
“ Incarcerous! ” Thick robes bound the two Death Eaters who didn’t have time to even lift their wands. They snarled and spat in their direction.
“The mudblood and her bitch ,” one of them sneered. Before Hermione could reply, the man who spoke was dangling with his feet off the ground, two bruised fists holding him by the collar.
A cold smile painted over Draco’s lips. “Where is my son,” he whispered dangerously. The air prickled like static energy waiting to be released, waiting to strike.
“We’ll never tell you,” the man rasped. Suddenly, he flew across the room and smashed into a crate. Draco’s eyes burned with a cold fury as he waved his hand and curled it. The man clawed at his own neck and choked as an invisible force closed around it. Hermione conjured a chair, levitating the other struggling man into it.
“Draco, do you mind if I have a go?” she asked calmly, her eyes boring into the Death Eater bound before her. From her periphery, she saw the blond nod in assent and release the other man who passed out not shortly after.
“Tell us where he is now or I promise I won’t make it easy,” Hermione said as she circled the Death Eater on the chair.
“I’m not telling you anything you filthy mudblood !” Draco stepped forward but she held her hand up. “Oh, you don’t want to know what they’re doing to those kids,” the Death Eater snickered. “The Dark Lord wants them, you see. So breakable, so pure. And because you and your bitch have been messing around in places you shouldn’t, the blond little brat will pay for your consequences.”
White-hot rage seared through Hermione’s veins. The image of Scorpius’ sweet face and grey eyes. Mini! Mini!
“One more chance,” she whispered. Her magic was already flaring up, as if hungry for what was coming next.
“Never,” he snarled.
“Very well,” she smiled. “ Legillimans ,” she hissed sharply, tearing into his mind and leaving every memory she went through into shreds.
***
Draco’s eyes widened as the man screamed. The other Death Eater on the ground, now conscious, looked horrified, struggling to get away as the witch tore into the other man’s mind. Her eyes were dark and focused, and Draco watched in both horror and fascination as she ripped his mind apart.
“I found him.” Just as the words left her lips, the man slipped off the chair and crashed to the ground, a glazed look in his eyes as he twitched and mumbled incoherently. “They keep the kids in another area — I can Apparate us there.”
Hermione turned her head and looked at Draco, her eyes burning with a wild fire. She lifted her hand out to him. A part of his magic trembled, feeling the danger, the threat as it did the very first night he had joined the True Order. Yet he found himself walking towards her, as if compelled as another part of him called back to her.
“Let’s bring him home,” he whispered, entwining their hands together. In the next moment, the world disappeared.
***
“Backup should be here any moment,” Hermione murmured, as they eyed the manor house. Upon arriving, she sent Kingsley and Moody a patronus updating them on the whereabouts of the children. From what she gathered from the Death Eater, it was a facility that housed the children they kidnapped. It was mainly occupied by healers and the Dark Lord’s experimenters. There were a couple of guards.
Children . The flashes of innocent faces she had seen forever carved itself into her skull. She had almost lost control then, almost giving in to the desire to completely destroy his mind. But she didn’t. She stopped when she found what she needed. But she would be lying to herself that the urge wasn’t there.
Pops of apparition alerted Hermione to the presence of several order members arriving.
“Hermione!” Ginny frantically approached them. “What’s the plan?”
Draco and Hermione filled them in, sending squads of teams around the perimeter. Once she destroyed the wards, she sent up a signal and they attacked. She and Draco moved on the front lines. The rest of the team had their backs as they focused on getting past the guards and into the building.
“ Protego !” Hermione cast a shield as Draco shot a curse back at their first attacker. The inside of the manor was in chaos as healers rushed in panic. There were no children in sight however.
“The dungeons,” Draco said as he led them to a dim staircase in the back, leading away from the fight that erupted in the foyer.
“ Lumos .” Hermione’s heart pounded as they descended the dark damp staircase, praying the slippery liquid along the steps wasn’t blood. As they neared the ground level, they heard whimpering and crying.
“Scorpius!” Draco yelled. They cast their lights around the cells and, in horror, found dirtied small faces staring back at them in fear.
“ Daddy! Mini! ” a shrill cry echoed through the walls. And there he was, his pale hair matted with dirt, his face streaked in tears as his little fists grasped the bars.
“Shh Scorpius, we’re here,” Draco’s voice cracked. Hermione choked on a sob as the little boy kept trembling. In the wandlight she could see minor purple bruises on his face. “Such a brave boy. So brave. We’re here now. We’ll get you out of here — all of you.”
More children started sobbing, looking frightened — all so young, Hermione was sure they didn’t understand what was happening.
“Ginny, the children are in the dungeons. Our priority is to evacuate the children — get here with the teams when you can. I’m sending another patronus to Kings for the house-elves. There’s more kids than we expected.” The silver otter bounced out of the room as another one followed not long after intended for Kingsley.
“Almost there,” Draco gritted, keeping his wand steady as he cut the bars. Once they were cut open, Scorpius rushed to them. Hermione and Draco circled their arms around him.
“ Home ! I want go home now !” he wailed.
“We will, love, don’t worry,” Hermione soothed him with shaky fingers. Once she recovered, she looked up into the terrified eyes of the other children huddled in the cells.
“We’re here to help you,” she said gently. Draco cut the other bars as Hermione coaxed the children out. There must have been around twenty of them. Some clung to her legs and others cried and flinched when pops of apparition resounded through the room.
“It’s okay,” she hushed. “They’re here to help.”
One by one, elves and True Order members gathered the children into their arms and Disapparated. Draco, who was holding Scorpius, stayed with her until the last of them were safely out.
“Mini, let’s go.” Scorpius reached out for her and, without hesitation, she took him into her arms. He buried his head in her neck and she held him tight as solid arms wrapped around them and they disapparated.
***
The headquarters was in chaos as they navigated towards the ward. Luckily, aside from some bruises and minor scrapes, Scorpius and the children were unharmed. And untouched to Hermione’s relief. The children were too young to provide any useful information on where they were from and who their parents were, some even unable to speak.
“You guys alright?” Draco and Hermione looked up to see a tired looking Blaise Zabini followed by Pansy in a ridiculously fluffy emerald robe.
“A little shaken, but no severe wounds,” Draco responded, tightening his arms around a sleeping Scorpius dozing on his shoulder. The boy refused to be away from both him and Hermione, panicking when one or the other had to leave for a while to sort things out. After a while, he had finally tired out despite his furious attempts to keep his eyes open. His steady breathing and heartbeat calmed Draco. He was supposed to protect him and he had failed.
“We’re here to bring the kids to our place,” Pansy said, placing a worried arm around her husband. “Kingsley said he could spare a healer but we should have everything taken care of from there.”
Pansy’s expression was grim, her face pale with evident stress but a deep determination in her eyes that made Draco glad she was now on their side. Pansy, for all her hard exterior, felt emotions even if she refused to admit it.
“Thank you,” Draco replied. It seemed only yesterday they were lounging in one of the Zabini estates in the south of Italy, sipping prosecco and teasing Theo about admitting he thought Loony Lovegood was cute . Now they were older. Changed, in ways Draco did not think possible.
“Granger, what is this?” Pansy ticked, letting go of Blaise’s arm and heading towards a confused Hermione. Pansy wrinkled her nose and, with pinched fingers, lifted a section of entirely burnt curls.
“Got grazed by a hex. Nothing serious.” Hermione tried to shrug it off as she attempted to pat down her hair uselessly in that way she always did that amused Draco.
Pansy looked aghast. “ Well , it may not be a worry to you , but now that I’m on the side of all things good and Gryffindor, as a step towards generosity and kindness , I am going to do a service to society by fixing the half-burnt monstrosity on your head.”
“Pansy I really — ”
Before Hermione could finish her sentence, the crazy witch snatched her by the arm and dragged her away. Hermione looked desperately over her shoulder at Draco for help but he merely gave her a look of I’m-not-getting-on-Pansy’s-bad-side . Hermione flipped him off before disappearing into an empty room. The bastard.
“My hair is fine, just singed a bit — ”
“ Sit .”
Perhaps it was the tiredness in her bones or the fact that it was three in the morning, but Hermione did as Pansy commanded and plopped on to the chair. Hermione surrendered, only able to muster a half-hearted glare when Pansy conjured a pair of scissors and a comb.
“Oh, don’t be all moody, Granger — Draco is seriously starting to rub off of you.”
Hermione bristled.
“There, there, just sit back and let me fix this,” Pansy sighed as if Hermione had insisted on this impromptu hair cut.
In silence, Pansy snipped off the burnt parts of Hermione’s curls and trimmed the rest of her hair throughout to make it even until her locks reached her shoulder. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, trying not to let her vanity get the best of her since she could not see how her hair was coming out.
“ Ouch ! Pansy, was that necessary?” Hermione glared at the bob-haired witch as she rubbed her arm.
“If you had more confidence in my skills, then you wouldn’t be shifting around and messing up my work!” Pansy reprimanded. “You look fine, trust me,” she murmured, surprising Hermione with the genuine note in her voice.
More hair slipped away as Pansy continued prattling on about hair maintenance and the importance of special hair towels. Hermione remained silent, focusing on the crisp sound of the scissors cutting her hair and watching the delicate way her curls fluttered to the ground.
“I heard what you did, you know.” Hermione startled from her reverie at Pansy’s voice. “Some damage you did to that bastard’s mind. He deserved it though.”
Pansy narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth when Hermione abruptly turned her head to look at her.
“It wasn’t right, Pansy. I was angry. I could have lost control. Maybe he did deserve it but I don’t like using my legilimency like that. To be able to hold someone’s mind in your hands it's — it’s exhilarating but also terrifying.”
Pansy’s hands dropped before she wordlessly turned Hermione back around and finished up some final cuts. Hermione was still pondering the witch’s reaction when a mirror was conjured in front of her, revealing her new shorter hair style. Hermione blinked at the reflection, gently touching the curls that reached her collarbone and was surprised to see her face no longer lost in her hair.
“You’re a stubborn witch,” Pansy sighed as she styled her own bob in the mirror. “Women — muggleborn, half-blood, and even pureblood — are told we should be ashamed of what we are, that we are somehow inherently weaker. And any sign that we are not, we are taught to feel afraid or ashamed of it. But we are not responsible for how others react to us — if they are intimidated or afraid.” Pansy’s eyes met hers in the mirror, a kind of certainty and anger and pain barely contained in them. “You have power, Granger, that no one can take away from you unless you let them, unless you hold yourself back. Trust yourself that you know what to do. And if no one can handle it, then fuck them.”
Hermione glanced away briefly then met eyes again with Pansy who had a self satisfied look on her face, as if she saw something she liked. Hermione looked at her reflection, lifting her chin to catch the light on her face. She felt lighter and she had an inkling it wasn’t just from the less weight of her hair.
***
“There they are,” Blaise greeted. “Nice hair, Granger,” he complimented as Pansy joined his side and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks,” Hermione responded, her eyes flickering to Draco who seemed to watch her.
“Are the kids ready, love?” Pansy reached out and brushed Blaise’s shoulder.
“Yes, the kids and the healer are good to go. They’ve been given a drop of sleeping draught to get them to rest so we should be going soon.”
“Thanks again, mate,” Draco said as they said their goodbyes. Blaise grinned while he shook Draco’s hand then winked at Hermione. Pansy stepped forward and kissed Draco’s cheek as well as the sleeping Scorpius before turning to Hermione.
“You’re welcome, Granger.” Pansy smirked then rejoined Blaise.
“Sure,” Hermione huffed to which Pansy just laughed.
“Your hair…” Hermione spun around from watching the retreating figures of the Zabinis to Draco, his face unreadable. Her words died in her throat when he stepped forward, the hand that was not holding Scorpius pausing in mid-air. Draco’s brows narrowed in confusion as if facing an arithmacy problem he could not solve. Hermione remained still when a pale slender finger, gently wrapped around one of her curls. “It suits you. Brings your face out more.”
“Ah, Granger, Malfoy!” Hermione gasped and immediately stepped back at the presence of Kingsley and Moody. Moody hobbled close to Kingsley’s side, eyeing them with a suspicious look in his magical eye. “We’re here to finally get more information about what happened.”
Moody grumbled in agreement.
“There was a message left in the safehouse,” Hermione began.
“ The Malfoy line shall be made pure again, ” Draco stepped up next to her.
“Do you think they specifically targeted you?” Kingsley asked.
“Probably. We have been very close on their trail and interfering with their plans. It could have been a warning,” Draco muttered darkly.
“But it also means we’re getting close.” Hermione was sure of it. They would not have taken the risk and targeted them specifically, not when they already had all those kids.
“Constant vigilance!” Moody took a swig of his flask. “We’ll send more scouts and hopefully learn some information from the children. We’re close. I can feel it.”
***
“Can’t sleep?”
Hermione looked up at pale eyes that, under the full moon, looked like pools of liquid starlight.
“How’s Scorpius?” she asked when he settled next to her on the back porch.
“Still in deep sleep.” The trees rustled softly, fireflies winking like fallen stars against the dark canopy of trees.
“Scorp asked after Watson earlier back at headquarters,” Draco chuckled. “He was concerned. Thankfully the elf was quite healed when he coincidentally passed by us in the ward while you were talking to Kingsley. Even managed to frown when Scorpius hugged him. But even the old elf couldn’t hide the relief on his face.”
“I don’t think Watson is immune to Scorpius Malfoy’s charms,” Hermione grinned. They were alright, they were safe .
“Gets it from his father, surely you can testify to that, Granger.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. A comfortable silence settled between them, which Hermione savored. They were okay .
“I didn’t know you were a legilimens. A skilled one at that. Who trained you?”
Hermione froze, choosing to stare at the wooden steps before her instead of his piercing gaze.
“Before the war broke out, I — I obliviated my parents to protect them.” Hermione swallowed. “I made them forget they had a daughter, forget their own names and made them move where no one would find them,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment, shock evident in his voice. “That's… the human mind is delicate and intricate. To manage that… ”
“Exactly,” she laughed humorlessly. “I studied everything there was about the mind and magic. The charm I used required legilimency because of how targeted it was. But I managed it,” she shrugged, “and that’s how I became skilled at legilimency.”
“You don’t seem to use it often.”
“Ron and Harry — they disapproved. It terrified them. Harry especially since the Dark Lord had been invading his mind and he had witnessed the Dark Lord using legilimency,” she shifted uncomfortably. “In some ways they’re right to be afraid. The mind is so fragile and to hold it in your hands — that power terrifies me sometimes. I don’t want to be like him. But I had some words with Pansy earlier — well she had some words for me really. And she made some good points.”
“She has her moments,” Draco huffed, “She may not act like it, but she cares.”
His face was more somber now. “You’re not like him.” Hermione looked up at Draco, blinking. He had some minor scratches on his face, but other than that, his skin was like handcrafted marble, hardened and defined. And yet, there was an almost imperceptible softness to him that she swore wasn’t there before. “I’ll admit — you were terrifying tonight when you ripped into that man’s mind but you were brilliant. I — you were in control of your power. And you did it not for pleasure or some demonstration of power. You did it to save someone. My son . I — ”
He looked away then, so suddenly, his jaw clenching as his eyes hardened. On impulse she moved closer, tentatively seeing if he would reject her touch. He remained still as she slowly placed her hand on his tense shoulder.
“Draco…” she whispered.
Suddenly, his arms locked around her, crushing her against him as he buried his face in her neck. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, but she did not care. She responded, holding him tighter, running her hand along his back, whispering that they were alright, they were safe.
And they stayed like that, exposed under the full glow of the moon, his fingers gripping her body tightly to his, inhaling her scent, her touch, her voice, telling himself they were safe and that this was real.
Notes:
A/N: Yes the poem I used in the beginning is mine hahahaha a little excerpt from my longer poem Confessions I-IV. I used to have a poetry page on insta but I deactivated it a few months ago because I felt pressured and overwhelmed to write more poetry when all my attention creatively was on this fic. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know I do a lot of action and sometimes I worry that you guys might feel like it's too much. I promise I have some slow scenes coming up and things are going to really pick up between the two soon - we’re going to dive deeper especially into Draco’s past, though without a few rough patches (we are earning that angst tag after all!). Thank you all for being with me for this journey :(
Chapter 23: Chapter XXII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“It’s pouring, the trees are getting greener before my eyes,
I love you. I’m almost afraid of the intensity of this happiness.”
— Vladimir Nabokov
“Granger, are you sure about this?” Draco grumbled, adjusting his muggle cap. Just ahead of them on the pier, colorful flags and tents pierced the horizon along with gigantic metallic structures that looped like iron ribbons.
“It’ll be fun I promise,” the witch said as she put on Scorpius’ matching cap, completely ignoring Draco’s scowl.
“It be fun, daddy!” Scorpius repeated, evident excitement in his voice at finally being somewhere that wasn’t a safehouse.
A couple days after Scorpius was saved, Hermione was running errands in a muggle town nearby and had caught sight of flyers advertising a muggle fair. Draco wasn’t sure how muggles could even have fairs without magic. The fairs he had visited with his parents as a child boasted exotic birds that could change the color of their feathers, snake charmers that made serpents dance, and flying paper dragons that breathed purple fire. He doubted the muggle version would be entertaining at all. But he had relented because he agreed with her that Scorpius needed a break from all the tension and stress of the war. His son needed something that would give him some semblance of a normal childhood. And Merlin knew Draco would try to give him that — even if it meant getting pulled around by a bright-eyed bushy-haired witch in her infernal muggle jean shorts all day.
And that’s what Draco resigned himself to as they stepped onto the fair grounds. With Scorpius in his arms, they weaved through red and white striped tents while muggles wearing bright colors and painted faces contorted their bodies, one even juggling a set of silver knives. It put him off, especially when a man in a black hat was somehow able to guess the card he had picked. All day, Draco let himself be dragged along by the excited witch and his son while he dutifully glared at anyone suspicious, especially those blokes shamelessly ogling Hermione’s bare legs. Heathens.
“ — and dat one, Mini? What dat?”
“That’s a ferris wheel! You ride and it takes you all the way up. We’ll hop on during sunset.” Hermione smiled. Her parents used to take her to fairs. Before she knew about magic — real magic — fairs had instilled in her a childlike wonder and excitement. It pained her that Scorpius did not have any of these experiences, that sometimes he was solemn, too behaved as if afraid something bad would happen. And bad things had happened. And as much as she wanted to keep him safe, she didn’t want him to miss out on a normal childhood.
“Daddy! Look at dat one! They upside down!” Hermione bit her lip to suppress a smile at the utterly disturbed look on Draco’s face as he watched the roller coaster loop round and round.
“Granger, are those things even safe?”
“Well, I suppose they are. I never went for those kinds of rides — the speed and the height isn’t for me,” she shuddered. “There are some kiddie rides that are perfectly safe. We’ll go on those!”
Scorpius tugged on Hermione’s sleeve, stretching his arms up expectantly. Hermione glanced hesitantly at Draco before taking the boy into her arms. Scorpius’ eyes were wide with wonder, pure curiosity at the colorful lights that flickered, the acrobats in green shimmering outfits, and especially at the other little kids running about laughing.
Throughout the day they rode half a dozen kiddie rides. Despite Draco’s muttering, Hermione could tell he was enjoying himself. When he thought she wasn’t looking, she caught his lips twitch and his shoulders relax while the wind swept gently through his hair as they were lifted up into the air by the spaceship ride, the world blurring in rivulets of colors.
“Again! Again!” Scorpius bounced on his little legs after they got off the ride.
“How about we get some snacks first?”
The Malfoys followed her closely as they approached crowded tables.
“Why don’t you and Scorpius find a seat and I’ll grab some food.” Hermione scanned the variety of food stalls. Before she could turn to the direction of one of them, a hand gripped her elbow.
“I don’t think it's a good idea to go off on your own,” Draco said firmly.
“You’ve got your cell phone right?” Hermione extracted her elbow with a light chuckle. “I’ll message if anything goes wrong. You can even message me if you find a seat.”
Before he could protest, she began lining up at one of the stalls. Moments later, with chips, sliders, and drinks bundled on a tray, her phone vibrated.
DM: Scorpius and I have found seats near the muddle selling stuffed animals.
DM: muggle
Hermione smiled to herself, making her way to the set of capped blond heads staring curiously at the people playing games at a stall nearby.
“Mini!”
“Hello, I hope you’re hungry.” Hermione grinned as she laid out the food. Scorpius patted the seat to his other side, waiting for her to settle down before he dug in.
“Tell me, Granger,” Draco said halfway through their meal, “why are these muggles terrible at winning these games? Quite easy if you ask me.”
Hermione bristled at the arrogant tone of his voice.
“Because they’re rigged! They’re meant to look easy but they usually set you up to fail. See over there,” she pointed to where some boys were trying to throw tiny rings on glass bottles. “They usually grease the bottles so the rings slide off.”
“Or they’re just not very… skilled.” He merely smirked at her glare.
“I reckon you think you could win one of the prizes then?”
“Granger, just pick out a prize and you know I’ll win it for you.” Arrogant bastard.
“Fine then,” she replied coolly. “Over there, you see that gigantic stuffed ferret? Win it for me.” A pleased smile plastered over her face at his scowl. “I’ll maybe even name it Draco.”
“You know, Granger, if you were that desperate to have me cuddled up in your bed, you could have just asked,” he drawled. Hermione choked on her drink. “I assure you the real thing is better.”
“Scowpius will cuddle you, Mini!” the tot offered up, grinning at her innocently.
“Aw thank you, Scorpius. I’ll take you up on that offer when your father fails to get me my stuffed ferret.” Scorpius shifted towards her and wrapped his arms around her neck tightly. Hermione smiled over the child’s head, catching Draco staring at them intently with an unreadable expression on his face. Hermione blushed and pulled back.
“Are you still hungry, Scorp?” Scorpius shook his head, leaning into her touch when she gently wiped his face. When she was done, Scorpius settled himself on her lap. Hermione snuck a look at Draco and noticed he was looking at his phone with a triumphant look on his face as he typed excessively hard on the keys with his pointer finger. Out of curiosity, she leaned over to see what he was doing.
DM: Watch your back, Blaise. IMY —
Hermione yelped, then snatched the phone from his grasp and deleted the message he had been typing.
“What was that for?” Hermione shifted as she handed the phone back.
“Oh, I — I don’t think Blaise would understand ‘imy’ so… ”
“Hermione, what are you not telling me?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I know that look.”
Hermione huffed. “Well, ‘imy’ doesn’t… mean what you think it means…” she trailed off, unable to hide her guilty expression.
“Well?”
“It means ‘I miss you,’ not ‘I’ll murder you’?” She winced.
Before he could get a word out, she jumped slightly and rummaged her beaded bag.
Draco blinked in surprise as Hermione discreetly removed a single layered cake from the bag along with a single candle that she lit with a wandless spell.
“Surpwise, daddy!”
The dark green frosting was uneven in places, swirls of silver fondant lining the sides that looked like Scorpius Malfoy’s classic rendition of roses.
“Happy birthday, Draco,” Hermione murmured, a pink tinge to her cheeks as she busied herself with placing the cake before him. “Scorpius and I baked a little something and I know it was last minute and a little roughly put together but I thought — ”
“It’s perfect.”
Hermione blinked at the odd softness she thought she heard in his voice. She looked at him, only to find him staring at the haphazard cake with an expression she could not place.
“Make a wish daddy! I make da roses! Me and Mini make yummy cake with choclate for you.”
Draco bent down, placed a kiss on his son’s head, smiling into his hair. “Thank you,” he murmured before glancing up at Hermione.
“Make a wish, Draco,” she whispered, nodding to the cake.
Draco pulled back. From behind the warm glow of the single flame, his gaze was unwavering as he kept it trained on them and remained so even as he blew the candle out.
***
It was sunset by the time the ferris wheel slowed and swayed as it paused at the peak. The sky was streaked in vermillion, bruised with lilac clouds as the sun sank in the horizon. Draco watched as below them more lights winked into existence. He felt at ease being away from the crowds, no sounds except for the steady voice of Hermione explaining to Scorpius where the sun went when it disappeared and how the stars were always above them, even when they couldn’t be seen. Draco watched as his son remained raptured by the witch, clinging to every word as he sat snug between them on the lift.
Even as the sun set brilliantly along the far distance and the stars began to awaken as if from a deep slumber, he could not keep his eyes away from the two people beside him. In that moment, Draco felt something of that Gryffindor bravery he had only heard about, that burning fire to do anything to protect whatever this was. He never truly understood it before — that willingness to walk into the flames without fear, not motivated by the promise of self-preservation. But something else. It was an extraordinary kind of power he felt smoldering deep within him, as if he could withstand anything, as if he could put himself together into some semblance of a decent human being that was deserving of what was before him.
“Look!” Hermione pointed as red and gold sparks exploded and sizzled in the distance. Fireworks . The witch and his son stared bright-eyed at the display of fireworks as Draco remained unmoving, afraid that if he blinked it would all disappear.
***
“No good luck for me, Granger?”
Hermione narrowed her eyes as he nonchalantly picked up another arrow. He had let her pick the game and she had decided on the stall where the aim was to pop three balloons with the toy crossbow. She knew the balloons were thicker than they seemed, the arrows blunted, and the toy crossbow intentionally weak which made it difficult to pierce the balloon. Draco Malfoy however had decided to forgo the crossbow. To the stall keeper’s astonishment and Hermione’s annoyance, he merely twirled the arrow with his fingers before throwing it with a sharp flick of his wrist, the arrow popping the balloon easily and embedding into the wooden board.
“Come on, Granger. This is for you after all.”
Scorpius merely clapped as Hermione turned her nose up at him and sniffed.
“As you wish,” he smirked, eyes not leaving hers as he sent another arrow flying, hitting the smallest balloon precisely. Git .
“Daddy you did it!” Scorpius cheered.
“Your prize sir?”
Draco grinned as Hermione crossed her arms. “The stuffed ferret, please.”
They ended up walking around the pier, the ridiculously large stuffed ferret under Draco’s arm as Hermione and Scorpius indulged in another round of candy floss. Hermione stopped abruptly, causing Draco to halt and reach for his wand.
“A photobooth!” Draco relaxed and trailed after Hermione and Scorpius.
“Hermione what — ”
“My parents and I used to do this all the time,” she rambled as she put coins into the slot then pulled him and Scorpius into the booth. “Here we get three shots, just look into the camera over there.”
To Hermione’s surprise Draco merely followed her instructions, pulling Scorpius onto his lap as he pressed himself to her side to try and fit into the shot.
“Say cheese!”
“What? Why would I — ”
Click!
“Draco, smile!”
“Daddy, smile!”
“Granger, I don’t — ”
Click!
“— I am not doing a silly face just for the sake of — ”
Click!
Draco blinked the brightness from his eyes and managed to leave the booth without dropping his son nor the stuffed ferret. Scorpius squirmed out of his arms to join Hermione as they waited for the machine to spit out the photos.
“Really Draco, not even one smile,” Hermione admonished from where she knelt beside Scorpius as they inspected the photographs. Draco grunted, keeping a look out as he shifted the stuffed ferret in his arms.
“Granger, are we really going to apparate with this thing,” Draco scowled, poking his head from the side of the gigantic fluffy animal. Hermione giggled, putting the photo in her beaded bag.
“Let’s get closer to the apparition point and I’ll shrink it.”
The three of them walked further down the pier and away from the lights, Scorpius between them, babbling about his observations for the day until they finally reached a deserted area where the shops were closed. Finally with no muggles in sight, Hermione shrunk the stuffed toy and put it in her beaded bag.
“Do you mind?” Hermione extended out her beaded bag to Draco. Draco nodded, wordlessly taking the bag as she knelt to tie her shoelace.
The wind blew in Hermione’s hair. The only sounds were the waves crashing along the pier and Scorpius humming the carnival tune from his perch in Draco’s arms. Hermione made to stand up but then froze when the smell of sulfur invaded her senses and a clack sounded.
“ Protego! ” Hermione’s wand whipped around just in time to block a spell. Draco cursed and Scorpius began to whimper as four dark figures unveiled themselves.
Hermione tried to hold up her shield while Draco sent curses towards the attackers but he was hindered by the child in his arms.
“Hello, my little mudblood .” A familiar voice cackled from the shadows. Hermione trembled. “And my dear dear nephew.”
“Bellatrix,” Draco hissed.
The witch stepped closer, her hood falling back to reveal the wide smile on her face that was almost too wide. She looked thinner, her skin more pale and waxy as it stretched over her sharp bone structure. Hermione could always recall her face with perfect clarity, in every nightmare, in every face in the dark. But there was something different in her face now — not much of that manic wildness in her black eyes, but something else. Desperation.
“Stand down, Tisiphone,” Bellatrix raised her hand, stopping a tall woman in dark robes that had lifted her wand. Hermione took the opportunity to notice the three cloaked figures behind her, large and imposing like sentries.
“The Fury Sisters,” Draco exhaled behind her in recognition. She recognized them too. She had heard of the three triplets — immigrants from Morocco that settled in the U.K. They were gifted animagi. Tisiphone, Alekto, and Maeg. They had not always been Death Eaters, Kingsley himself had tried to recruit them into the True Order but it all went downhill when their parents were shot and killed by muggles in a racist attack a couple of years ago. They had turned to Voldemort’s cause after the incident.
“What do you want, Bellatrix?” Draco snarled.
Bellatrix cackled. “Oh dear, is that the greeting you’re giving your own Aunt? Not even an introduction to little Scorpius ,” she pouted, eyeing the boy who buried his face in his father’s chest. “You and your little mudblood have been quite the pests with all your meddling. And those incompetant fools couldn’t get at least one of you.”
Bellatrix made a gesture that signaled two of the triplets to morph — one into a leopard and the other into a large hawk.
“But the thing is,” Bellatrix continued twirling her wand in her hands, the remaining Fury sister, Tisiphone, lifting her wand, “you can’t send a man to do a woman’s work.”
“ Avada K —”
“ Confringo! ”
Chaos broke out as their spells clashed and collided. The leopard and the eagle swooped in but Draco hit one of them with an immobulus and the other with a well-timed acid curse. Hermione fired spell after spell at Bellatrix and Tisiphone trying to hold their ground.
“You wont fucking touch him,” Hermione growled as she sent a wall of fire their way only for Tisiphone to redirect it back at them. Before Hermione could retaliate, Draco blocked the fire with a wave of ice using the water he summoned from the pier.
“Granger, we have to get out of here,” Draco gritted out.
“I’ll hold them back — go !” Hermione hissed from a slicing hex that grazed her cheek but continued to blast the leopard back.
“ The fuck you are — ”
“Draco go! Get Scorpius out of here!” Hermione commanded as she successfully stunned Tisiphone. Hermione stepped in front of Draco and Scorpius, putting up a shield just as Bellatrix sent another spell their way.
She looked over her shoulder for a moment, keeping her wand arm steady. She almost flinched at his expression, his eyes were livid as he hesitated between her and the child in his arms.
“ Hermione — ” he said dangerously.
“Draco, please! Save Scorpius!” More spells came their way as the other Fury sisters recovered, making her shield crack. “ Draco! Now! ”
Just as her shield exploded, Draco and Scorpius disapparated. Hermione's body sagged and her eyes shut in relief even as she was consumed by fire.
Notes:
A/N: Okay I know another action attack scene but huhuhu I promise it will be somehow relevant to the plot and character development, not just action for the sake of action :( Also as we move towards the third half of the fic, there will be more focus on the internal conflict and Draco’s past. Thank you for sticking by me and trusting me, it means sooo much. Also let’s pretend the timing works out and it's Draco’s birthday. Please don’t ask me what month or time it is specifically - lets just say it all lines up bahhaahhahahah I’d also like to acknowledge this original fic I read on wattpad when I was literally in like 6th grade called Getting It Straight - that’s where I got inspiration from for the scene where Draco does not understanding texting acronyms <3
Thank you all again and feel free to connect with me on instagram @cz_bl (fair warning, idk how but somehow my page has also turned into a Dramione meme page lmao)
Chapter 24: Chapter XXIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“How do we forgive ourselves for
all of the things we did not become?”
— Doc Luben
Some say the world will end in fire, a fire so pure that it scorches everything that once was, reducing it into ash. The reckoning. To Hermione, it had sounded symbolic, poetic even. Fire to cleanse the soul — the bringer of light. And destruction. It was only now she truly knew what it felt like to burn, to be on the other side where there was no escaping the flames. And pain.
“Hermione?”
Hermione gasped, hurriedly wiping away the evidence of her tears before lifting her head. Upon doing so, she met a set of green eyes behind circular rimmed glasses held together by tape.
“Did you need something, Harry?” Hermione averted her gaze from his piercing stare, choosing to watch the giant squid in the distance splashing the tips of its tentacles along the surface of the black lake. It was a fall day, the trees shedding their marigold and auburn leaves, some floating across the lake’s surface gently just like the self-rowing boats that brought them to this very shore not many weeks ago.
“I — I heard the comment Snape made about you in class about being not good enough no matter how much you tried — ”
Hermione screwed her eyes shut, refusing to let herself break in front of him. She had tried to be friends with him, but he and Ron were stuck together, sometimes wary of her whenever she’d tried to help. These past few weeks in particular had been too much. She missed her parents. She was embarrassed to admit it, not because she didn’t love her parents — she did. It was because she was ashamed that even here at Hogwarts she was an outsider. She had thought that finally she would be somewhere she belonged, somewhere people understood because all her life she had felt so alone, even though her parents had tried. She thought by coming here, she would find people like her. But again, she was different. She was quick to realize that having muggle parents was not common. She had read every book available about magical beings. Muggleborn. It had just been an inky black word in an old leather book with yellowing pages. But the way it sounded from the lips of the other wizards and witches, young and old, held an underlying taste of displeasure. No, she knew, deep in her blood, again she did not belong.
“I’m still not sure why you’re here, Harry,” Hermione murmured once he stopped babbling, running her fingers absently over her feathered quill.
When he didn’t respond, Hermione only got a brief glance of his pinched face before he sat himself next to her.
“Look, I know how you’re feeling — I didn’t know about magic either until coming here. Even having both magical parents I’m… an outsider. When I walk through the halls I hear the whispers. We’re not like them.” She blinked at Harry, who gave her a lopsided smile. “I know things haven’t been easy but we can figure it out. Together.”
Hermione frowned. “What about Ron?”
Harry’s face split into a grin. “He’ll go with it, don’t worry.”
As if being summoned, the red-headed Weasley stumbled from the trees, tripping on his oversized robes. His hair was tousled, so bright, she almost didn’t distinguish the leaves stuck in his hair.
“Harry! Where’ve you been, mate?” he said, dusting his hair as he approached.
“Just hanging with Hermione and sharing our hatred for Snape .”
“Agh! Tell me about it!” Ron huffed, surprising Hermione when he sat to her other side. “It’s a real pain you know having to avoid the hallways when he walks with his robes billowing in the wind like a real villain — ”
Hermione giggled.
“Ahem.”
She gave Harry a curious look when he nudged her as Ron continued his rant. She glanced down where Harry’s eyes pointed, finding an unopened chocolate frog. At Harry’s encouraging look, she took the box and offered it to Ron.
“Oh! I have a spare chocolate frog if you want it, Ron.”
Ron’s eyes lit up and without hesitation snatched the chocolate from her hand and immediately opened it and stuffed it in his mouth before the frog could even lift its head.
A garbled “Thanks, Mione,” came out of his full mouth. “I can call you that right? Mione?” he said upon finally swallowing the sweet, grinning with his teeth stained with chocolate only making her laugh harder along with Harry.
Perhaps she wouldn’t be completely alone.
Memories swirled in and out of her mind, slipping through the cracks as she waded in some unknown. She could not see but she could feel . And slowly, she was aware; aware of a faint trickle, the rustle of chains. She groaned softly, barely able to crack her eyes open.
“ — Bellatrix said to prepare her. I’ll let Alekto know the rounds are switching — ”
Hermione cracked open one eye only to shut it tightly once more when a searing pain invaded her senses. The ground seemed to tilt from where she hung. Her body trembled in shock, her breathing rattled. She cataloged her injuries; a broken ankle, dislocated finger, and gashes everywhere. Probably internal bleeding as well.
Her mind felt foggy — she didn’t remember, she didn’t remember how she got here, how long she had been there, and what they had done to her. Flashes of screaming, pain, and silver masks flitted in and out of her vision. Wild hair, cackling, a knife dragging across her face. She had never felt so beaten, so weak, so helpless. They hadn’t even bothered to suppress her magic.
Hermione managed to force both her eyes open. The cell was dark except for a single torch light. From her place, she barely made out the forms of the two Fury sisters in the dim cellar light. Tisiphone and Maegara.
“Go. I’ll watch the prisoner.” Maegara left the cell, barely giving Hermione a glance from where she knelt, her arms spread eagled and chained to the ceiling, leaving her hanging limply.
“You know,” Tisiphone said as she leaned against the wall, an impassive look on her face as she watched Hermione, “if you give up the locations of the safehouses, it makes everything easier. For all of us. Even you.”
Hermione huffed, wincing as the small movement pulled at her shoulder. “And what? Have more people slaughtered? That isn’t worth one life.”
Tisiphone chuckled, dark eyes gleaming in the torch light as she walked over and crouched before Hermione so that they were eye-level. “How about the lives of the future generations of wizards and witches to come? Shall they keep hiding in the shadows as more of those muggles claim more of the world? Perhaps it is your Order that is causing the suffering of more magical families.”
Hermione fought to stay awake. “I’m sorry about your parents…”
Tisiphone’s face shut as she straightened to full height. “Sorry is not enough to bring them back or eradicate the hate for our kind.”
“And so the solution is to fight hate with hate?” Hermione gritted out. “I will never condone what the muggles had done. And your cause got something right — we have power. We were born with it. But that doesn’t give us the right to abuse it. We can do better. An eye for an eye will only make the entire world blind, after all.”
Before Tisiphone could respond, the cell door opened. Even if Hermione did not look, she could feel the presence of the very witch that haunted her nightmares. Her power was malignant, crawling in like inky shadows. The room seemed to crackle with untamed lighting. Powerful, chaotic, cruel.
“The little mudblood is awake I see,” Bellatrix crooned, her pale face coming into view. She pouted before grinning widely. Hermione shuddered and looked away. “What to do with you, little bird?”
Hermione focused on the pair of heeled dragonhide boots as the blunt edge of a crooked black wand dug itself into the wound on her chest. Hermione gritted her teeth but a whimper escaped.
“Let’s have more fun.” A sharp nailed finger dragged itself across her face as the wand remained pierced into her flesh. Hermione screamed in agony when Bellatrix slit her sharp fingernail into the barely healed wound on her face that she didn’t remember receiving.
“No one’s coming for you,” she crooned, releasing her. “ Crucio !”
She should have been used to it by now, and should have been able to prepare herself. But the cruciatus always felt like the first time she had received it on the floor of Malfoy manor, the same white-hot pain that seared through every nerve and fiber of her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She could not fight. No one was coming, no one was coming . She let the darkness consume her.
“Not very talkative now are you,” Bellatrix’s voice rang out. Hermione’s body twitched violently against the chains that held her full weight. “But no worries, I know there is no point getting information from you. But we can still have a little fun, can’t we?” Bellatrix’s palm met her face sharply. Hermione gasped, her vision going blank for a second. Blood pooled from the corners of her mouth and trickled down her chin to the damp floor. “Tisiphone?”
Hermione’s eyes widened as the witch shifted into her animagus form — a large snake, scales gleaming like cut amethyst. Hermione struggled as the snake approached, hissing at her direction.
“Tisiphone’s venom, though not fatal, causes paralytic nightmares, pulling on your deepest and darkest memories.” Hermione’s nails dug into her palms as she tried to remain calm when Tisiphone wrapped her massive scaly body around her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she groaned when the snake body twisted like a vice around her, cracking her already broken ribs. She tried to scream but nothing came out.
“What haunts your dreams, mudblood?” Bellatrix grinned. “What dark things have you done for this war?” Hermione looked into Tisiphone’s snake eyes, yellow and slitted. For a moment she let her occlumency walls down. And she begged.
Hermione thought she saw Tisiphone hesitate but that was before sharp fangs pierced into the flesh of her neck. Suddenly all that was light vanished into an internal darkness as she plunged into a chasm, tendrils of darkness pulling her into an abyss she knew too well.
“Hermione, love, could you pass the popcorn?”
Hermione passed the bowl across her father, both her parents too engrossed in the latest science documentary they were watching to notice the pain in her face. Usually, she too would be engrossed. It was movie night, a tradition they had every Friday during the summer. Just like they always did. But it was likely to be the last.
“ — really dear, surely the experiment overlooks —”
“— hush. Hermione, what do you think of the use of… oh where are you going?” her mother asked, pausing the film. Both her parents blinked up at her, the tv light glinting off her father’s round spectacles.
“I’m just going to grab a jumper. It’s quite chilly.” Hermione forced a smile at her parents, who relaxed at her assurance.
“Don’t be too long!” Her father yelled as he resumed the film, turning back to the screen as Hermione walked behind them. Her eyes stung as she ran up the stairs. When the door shut, her body felt on autopilot as she finished packing the final things she needed.
She had to leave. The war was about to break out. She ran the spell through her head again and again, just like she had been practicing. Guilt bubbled up inside of her.
Hermione had not told them about the war, but she knew they knew something dark was stirring. She could see it in the worried set of their faces whenever she did magic or frantic look on their faces when she stayed out a little too late on her walks around the neighborhood. She heard it in the whispering and her mother crying late at night when they thought she was asleep, the way her father held her tighter than usual, and the fearful looks they shared over the dinner table when she was unable to take another bite of her dinner. That, and her mother’s nightmares, the sobs she could hear from the other side of their bedroom door. She could no longer hold off doing what she needed to do as Voldemort grew stronger.
“It’s the only way,” she whispered to herself as she put on the invisibility cloak Moody had lent her and slung her beaded bag over her shoulder. Her mind felt numb as she made her way down the stairs that she had first learned how to walk down. She could not look at the photographs of her and parents over the years, their smiling and proud faces. She couldn’t.
Memories — they were dangerous things. They reminded you of things that were, of fleeting moments that you could never truly keep. No matter how hard you tried to relive it, you would never get close enough to touch it. They faded over time like photographs until all you could do was mourn the ghost of a life that was long lost.
When she reached the foot of the stairs she paused, giving herself this one moment to watch the silhouettes of her parents, her mother’s head on her father's shoulder as his arms tightened around her. Hermione took a step forward, positioning herself behind them and raised her wand with shaking fingers.
I love you , she mouthed as more and more tears fell down her face.
“Obliviate.”
She held the spell, making her way in front of them. She concentrated on their memories as she continued uttering the variation of the spell, using legilimency to detangle the memory of her existence from their minds. When she looked into their minds, something shattered inside of her upon seeing herself from their eyes — the memories of when she took her first steps, woke up with tangled hair and a bucked-toothed smile on her first day of school, when she showed her first signs of magic and waved at them from the Hogwarts Express. Each and every memory was warm, so full of love it shocked her. All of that now gone, forgotten.
Hermione stood before them now, back in their living room, their eyes glazed and unseeing as they remained in a trance. It was done.
They blinked, and something twisted inside of her upon seeing the relaxed and almost… relieved expressions on their faces. They looked much younger without the tension in their bodies, in their countenance. Her parents looked at each other and smiled.
A cruel part of her, a selfish part had wanted to see them sad or at least confused, that somehow, even if she had erased the memory of her very existence in their minds, she was somehow still in their heart — that maybe even if they could not put a name to her face, they felt deep in their bones they had once had a daughter that they loved. But there was no denying the truth before her very eyes — they were happier and unburdened without her.
The next few moments felt like she was a ghost as she watched her parents spring on to the idea of moving to Australia she had planted in their minds. She watched as they packed their bags, booked tickets, excitedly chattering about their new life.
“Everything all set?” her father asked in the doorway. Hermione watched from her place by the wall across the doorway from where her parents stood.
She held her breath when her mother frowned and turned around. Hermione swore she was looking straight at her.
“I can’t help but feel I’m forgetting something,” her mother said slowly. Hermione bit down on her fist as her mother continued to look right through her, fighting the urge to run into her parent’s arms and tell them to remember her. That she was sorry and she would figure it out. She would protect them.
“I think we got everything dear,” her father murmured. Her mother blinked and smiled, shoulders relaxing before giving one last look and turning towards her father. They both stepped through the doorway, leaving her alone in the empty house.
“No…” she rasped. It was better this way. They were happier. Safe.
“— take this...” Before Hermione could make out her senses, she felt a cool vial to her lips then a sour liquid going down her throat. Vaguely she felt herself being lowered to the floor, the tension in her limbs releasing. “Let’s see what this world of no hate you are fighting for will look like, Hermione Granger.”
Hermione blinked, only catching Tisiphone leaving with her back turned towards her.
“Thank you…” she croaked, her vision blurring.
“I’m taking my sisters away from this war. We’ll see you on the other side if you make it out.”
Hermione exhaled, feeling the antidote slowly go through her body, the darkness surrounding her mind receding a bit. She surrendered to another memory, this time raw, unformed, as if if she touched it, it would slip away and break into a thousand pieces she could never recover. Slowly an image of a child with white blond hair and silver eyes appeared.
“Ready or not, here I come!” Hermione grinned as she scanned the library, pretending to search for the little boy. “Oh where could he be…”
A little bump under the throw blankets shook and giggled.
“Where could Scorpius be! Oh no, I can’t find him!”
Suddenly, Scorpius threw the blanket off with impatience, his blond hair sticking in every direction.
“Mini, I’m here!”
“Scorpius? Where are you! I can’t see you!” Hermione bit her lip as she pretended not to see the him
“Mini! It’s me! I’m here!” Scorpius went down the sofa, tugging at her sleeve. “It’s Scorpius!”
“Oh, there you are!” Hermione gasped, picking him up and swinging him in her arms before crashing into the couch. Both of them laughed and she held the boy closer as he continued snuggling into her arms.
Just as they settled, the library door opened. “Yay! Daddy has the hot coco!”
Silently, Draco floated one large mug and a smaller one in their direction before taking his own and settling in the ottoman across them.
“What will you say, Scorp?” Hermione nudged. The boy looked up from his mug, a little chocolate mustache on his upper lip.
“Oh! Thank you very very much, daddy!”
Draco smiled softly at his son. “You’re welcome.”
Hermione’s cheeks burned when he raised a brow at her. She coughed. “Thanks, Draco.”
Hermione chanced a look at him when he didn’t respond, meeting his eyes across the mug, chocolate wafting, warm and sweet. He smirked at her and took a sip.
For a brief moment, she let the feeling surround her — she could not put a name to it, too afraid to look closer at the memory and have it fade away. But it was warm and familiar, and it stirred a deep ache in her chest.
***
Hermione woke up again, not knowing if it had been days or hours. She had been woken up this time by a sound — she was sure of it. There it was again. Hermione strained her ears, trying to stay awake. An explosion sounded from somewhere outside, along with shouts and running.
Suddenly the door to her cell exploded. Hermione was blinded by the beam of light that illuminated the chamber.
“She’s here!” a voice called out. Two pairs of feet ran to her side.
“Hermione,” another voice exhaled. “Hermione wake up! Wake the fuck up!”
“Draco?” she croaked, blinking as she tried to adjust to the light.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” Hermione’s vision finally cleared allowing her to make out his pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the murderous look in his expression.
More shouts and explosions rang out, and before she knew what was happening, she was lifted into his arms. Hermione let out a whimper, burying herself into his chest as she felt a gash on her back re-open.
“Bellatrix…” she groaned.
“She wasn’t here. She was spotted with the Dark Lord elsewhere.”
There was more commotion as the building trembled, but all she could focus on was the beat of his rapid heart beneath her palms.
“Draco!” the voice she now recognized as Blaise Zabini shouted in warning. “We need to go now ! Theo and Luna are going to detonate the bomb any moment!”
Hermione blinked in and out of consciousness as Draco ran with her in his arms. She caught flashes of lights in the hallways — spells. She felt drowsy, that soothing darkness calling to her again.
“Stay awake. Hermione!”
“I’m tired… ” she mumbled.
“I know, I know you’re tired. But a little longer — please.” Hermione noted real panic in voice, and held on a little tighter trying to stay conscious.
“ Fuck !” Blaise cursed angrily. “There’s too many!”
She fought to focus her vision, his face barely coming into focus as he continued searching for an exit. “Draco…?”
“Yes, love?” he grunted, eyes narrowed as he barely dodged a spell.
“Draco… the protocol…”
“ Don’t ,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare ask me to leave you behind. Again ,” he said with such venom she flinched. Before she could try to change his mind, someone else joined them from behind.
“I got her wand!” a breathless Pansy said, immediately joining Blaise in fighting off the Death Eaters.
A few moments later, Hermione noticed they had gotten past them. She managed to look over Draco’s shoulder and meet eyes with Pansy.
“Hello, princess,” she smirked, hair still immaculate, not a speck of dirt or blood on her face.
“What…?” Hermione rasped. It must be a dream surely — Slytherins coming to her rescue.
“Look more surprised why don’t you, Granger.”
If Hermione had more energy, she would have rolled her eyes at the witch.
They finally burst through the front doors, Blaise defending them from the front and Pansy from behind.
“ Theo! Now! ”
“Got it, captain!”
Suddenly an even bigger explosion sounded. Hermione’s eyes widened as the building they came out of exploded. An invisible barrier, however, contained the debris.
“Fuck! It actually worked!” Theo shouted and grinned incredulously.
“What do you fucking mean it actually worked ?!” Blaise yelled, his voice slightly pitched.
“Oh, we never tested it out you see,” Luna said in a calm voice.
“Let’s get out of here,” Draco commanded in a clipped voice, holding her tighter in his arms. Instantly she was surrounded by the Slytherins and Luna, who pulled out a wrapped handkerchief.
“Now!” Hermione held onto Draco as a tugging sensation pulled on her navel and the world was pulled into a vacuum.
***
The ringing in her ears died but her eyes remained shut as slowly her mind began to clear. Hermione blinked her bleary eyes to the sight of Draco Malfoy, sleeves rolled up, silver spectacles on as he examined a potions bottle.
“Draco?” she rasped, coughing. His head whipped in her direction, striding to her side and helping her sit up.
“Drink this.” He coaxed a thick liquid down her throat that tasted of spoiled milk and lemon. Hermione let out a sigh as she felt the aches in her bones numbing. The room was bright, smelling of tea and herbs. She let her gaze go over her appearance — her arms and torso entirely bandaged from what she could feel from under her clothes. No , not her clothes. She realized she was wearing an oversized black shirt that fell off her shoulder revealing her bruised shoulder. It smelled of dark notes of cedarwood, citrus, and winter air. Draco. Hermione also noticed a familiar stuffed toy dragon on her left and a gigantic stuffed ferret to her right.
“Scorpius,” Draco mumbled, noticing her stare. She looked up at him, but he seemed to be avoiding her gaze.
“Where are we?” she finally managed out, as Draco cast diagnostic charms on her, his brows furrowed in concentration.
“The safehouse in the French countryside,” he replied. “How do you feel?”
“My body aches, but the pain is numb now.” Still avoiding her gaze, he focused on checking her bandages, then fluffed her pillow before casting a spell to make the room warmer. Hermione never realized Draco Malfoy could be so… fussy .
Hermione bit her chapped lips. “How bad was it?” Draco paused from where he was reheating her tea. His jaw clenched.
“ Bad, Hermione ,” he gritted out. His eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled deeply.
“Draco…” His head snapped up, grey eyes filled with fury as he finally looked at her straight in the eye.
“How fucking dare you?” he hissed, looming over her. “How fucking dare you make me choose? Make me leave you behind! Fuck ,” he chuckled darkly. “You know how fucking stupid that was?” he snarled and gripped her shoulders. “How many times will you put yourself in danger?”
“It’s war, Draco,” she swallowed, searching the depths of his stormy eyes. He was not happy with her response.
“We’re supposed to be partners, ” he exhaled, his face shuttering. “No more of this. Promise me.”
Hermione tried to blink away the stinging in her eyes as she searched his face, catching something underneath the coldness and fury that shocked her — it looked like fear. “I promise.” He looked at her for a moment longer then nodded, releasing her shoulders as he sat himself on the bed. “How did you find me?”
“We got a tip from someone. We don’t know who.” Tisiphone.
“But what I don’t understand is how you got Kingsley and Moody to agree to risk all of your lives on a suicide mission.”
“I didn’t,” he said in a clipped voice. Draco waved his wand, conjuring a wet towel on her forehead, before shaking his head and continuing. “They weren’t going to let me go after you,” he muttered darkly. “Too much of a risk they said. If — if they just fucking agreed the moment we received the tip. But no, it was apparently unverified information. Because of the delay you were stuck there for 76 hours. Thankfully, Blaise, Pans, Theo, and Luna volunteered to help and go against the orders. So I led them in. Theo and Luna had been working on some bombs and Theo guaranteed it would work. We tracked you down, got in, got out. Kingsley and Moody put me on probation, but only for a week,” he shrugged.
Hermione looked away, screwing her eyes shut. He came for her. They all did.
“I thought you were dead, Hermione,” his gaze vacant. “You were so broken — I — I thought…”
His eyes fluttered shut.
“Your back had lacerations. You also sustained damages to your internal organs and nerves — evidently from the cruciatus. Not to mention the severe burns. And when I found you,” he hesitated. “You were half naked. I thought — fuck — I thought,” he began shaking. “The healers said nothing of that nature happened but still. If I just got there sooner none of this — ”
“Draco, don’t,” she whispered, fighting the urge to take his hand.
“And your face — ”
Hermione gasped remembering the pain. Her hand gingerly touched her face where she felt her left cheek covered by gauze. She made to turn her face away when a firm hand on her chin stopped her, tilting her face up and forcing her to look at him.
Eyes intent, Draco slowly grazed his thumb across her lower lip. Her breath caught and his brows furrowed as his eyes flickered to her lips.
“Mini!” The door barged open as a blur of blond hair launched itself on to her, breaking her and Draco apart.
“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Draco reprimanded.
“I have something for you, Mini,” Scorpius whispered conspiratorially, completely ignoring his father.
“What is it?” Hermione whispered back.
Slyly, the little tot pulled out a crumpled piece of orange paper covering a lump. “Is chocwate,” he smiled, handing it to her.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Where do you even get those?” he asked bitterly.
“Is secwet!” Scorpius chirped. Hermione chuckled and thanked him with a kiss to his head.
Draco scowled in reply, muttering under his breath about not sharing.
“Now, Scorpius. Let’s allow Hermione to get some rest,” he said as he scooped up his son. Scorpius frowned but grudgingly allowed himself to be carried out, giving Hermione a smile and a wave before the door shut.
Hermione sighed, her exhaustion finally catching up to her as she shut her eyes.
***
Throughout the following days, Hermione slept like the dead, only waking up here and there when Draco brought her food and medication. The healers had healed most of the damage, even her burns, except the scar on her face as it had been made by the same magical blade that carved the slur in her arm. She constantly felt drowsy, not knowing what was a dream and what was real. Sometimes she’d wake to see Draco in those damned spectacles on the chair by her bedside reading reports. Other times her eyes would be too weak to open, but she could hear a low voice grumbling, crazy bint, Gryffindor stupidity, self fucking sacrifice which would elicit a small smile from her before she lost herself to sleep. But sometimes the voice would just talk to her, lulling her with her favorite lines from her favorite muggle authors like Poe, Hugo, and Radcliffe. There were other moments that she swore were dreams, when there was no other sound but the mischievous giggles of a little boy and large hand in hers, when she dreamed of that soft melody again, deft fingers striking piano keys as the notes danced into a light cadence. The gentle lilt and tentative awakening of the melody made her dream of pale heavy lidded eyes, dancing, chocolate, and a little boy’s laugh.
By the time Hermione felt pulled out of her coma-like state, three days had passed. A healer from the headquarters had come by and said her recovery was going well. When the healer left, Hermione had been eager to finally get out of bed when a firm hand stopped her. She rolled her eyes before meeting Draco’s scowl.
“You heard what the healer said, Malfoy,” she huffed. “I’m fine!”
He bristled. “She said you were making progress on your recovery! She didn’t say you were restored to full health!” he gritted out.
“But I’m so behind on my reports and my research! Everyone’s going to be — ”
“Granger,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with exasperation. “You need to prioritize your health first. The Order will manage.”
She met his glare, but she couldn't deny that she still felt addled and exhausted.
“If it will soothe your oversized Gryffindor heart,” he drawled, “I’ve gotten most of your work done. So get back to bed.”
Hermione turned her nose up at his tone. “Well, there’s a specific format I use for my reports, I need to check that you at least — ” She shut her mouth at his warning glare and briskly went back under the covers.
“I’m going to start removing some of the bandages,” he murmured as he turned around to gather his supplies.
Thirty minutes in, and most of her bandages off, Hermione let out another hiss as the last piece on her back was pulled off. Draco had said nothing, but she didn’t fail to notice the gentleness of his touch when he cleaned her wounds. She thought she imagined a soft brush of fingers on her spine and a whisper she couldn’t quite catch.
“Well that wasn’t too bad,” she murmured. When she turned to look at him, she was surprised to see his face blank and closed. She hadn’t expected to see him occluding. His eyes were hardened and she noticed his fists clenched, knuckles white on her blood stained bandages.
“Just one more,” he said, voice tight.
“Right,” Hermione said, unconsciously touching the gauze on her cheek.
Slowly, he removed it. She simply winced when he dabbed it with ointment. His eyes were focused on his task but she noticed his jaw clenching.
“Can I have a mirror?” His back was turned as he focused on packing the supplies when she asked the question. He paused as if taking a moment to assess his words. “I know it won't heal — the healer said they used a cursed blade. But I just — ”
Her words broke off as she internally berated herself for caring so much about what her new face looked like. She looked up when she felt the bed dip, a conjured silver mirror placed in her lap. She lifted it to her face and gasped. Across her cheek, a nasty red gash marred her flesh. It was jagged from her cheekbone to her chin, deep and deliberate. It was ugly. Unbidden, tears pooled in her eyes. She told herself it didn’t matter, it was just a scar. But still, she felt the weight of being marked like this forever. Again.
She averted her gaze, only to look back up when a large hand curled around hers.
“Every time you or anyone sees that scar,” he said slowly, his eyes unflinching, “let it be a reminder — a warning — that Hermione Granger fought in the war. That she did not come out unscathed but even so she was unafraid. That she was brave.”
His words settled into her, filling her from the inside.
She swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered.
A ghost of a smile settled over his lips as his hand tightened around hers.
***
“Mini?” Hermione looked up from her book as Scorpius walked in shyly with his father behind him.
“Yes?” she smiled encouragingly at him. The little tot fidgeted, looking down blushing. His father sighed, whispering something in his ear that she didn’t catch. The boy puffed up his chest and set a look of determination.
“I have something for you,” he said, approaching her. She watched curiously as he pulled something from behind his back. Hermione’s eyes widened at the sight of a fully bloomed rose. “Our seeds is growing! I come back and see it growing! I got Mini the prettiest one,” he said, glancing up at her shyly.
“Scorpius, it's beautiful,” she gasped, smelling the rose. “I told you the patience was worth the wait!” Hermione kissed him on the cheek. He preened, snuggling close to her.
“Also — also Mini I been practicing. I want to reads you a book to make you feel better,” he said proudly then looked at his father expectantly. Draco rolled his eyes, silently passing over a book. Scorpius excitedly climbed onto the bed beside her and opened the book. “ The baby dragon is flying… ” he began with a determined brow. His little fingers traced over the letters pretending he could read them.
She merely smiled and looked up at Draco who was watching them with amusement, shaking his head when he caught her eyes.
“ — and then, and then the baby dragon is falling into the dirty cauldron! ” Scorpius laughed then looked up at her expectantly and Draco cleared his throat. Hermione giggled, saying it was very funny and the boy put on a pleased face, continuing to look at her reactions throughout.
***
Despite being completely recovered, Draco Malfoy continued fussing around like a damned mother hen. Not only did he ensure that her pillows were fluffed to his satisfaction and the window was cracked open at just the right angle to let in fresh air, but he also he came exactly at 4pm when the temperature dropped solely to shut the window because it was, according to him , essential for her recovery. This was in addition to being religious about her medication and her apparent bi-hourly need for his special blend herbal tea (that she wouldn’t admit tasted quite nice).
Even Scorpius had fallen into the habit of assessing her every move, telling her with furrowed brows and little arms crossed that she needed to lie back down whenever she stood up for too long.
One afternoon she had been craving something from the kitchen that wasn’t one of Scorpius’ chocolates. After checking the hallway and assuming they were out watering the rose bush, Hermione silently made her way down the stairs.
“Mini no!” Hermione stopped on the third step as the thumping of tiny little legs sounded on the wooden floor behind her. She turned towards the top of the stairs only to see a worried Scorpius huffing and puffing as if he had run a marathon. “Mini! Is dangerous to go down stairs alone!”
“Okay, but what if I’m hungry?” she said with a teasing smile. Scorpius had a conflicted expression, pondering what she said.
“Okay, Mini but you have to hold my hand,” he said warily. Hermione grinned, taking the boy’s offered hand. Together they made their way down the steps slowly, Scorpius glancing at her constantly.
Even during lunches, he adopted Draco’s scrutinizing look, making sure she ate enough or didn’t exert herself. Although on the outside Hermione implored them to stop their fussing, a small part of her was grateful. It had been a long time before she felt cared for — for once, she wasn’t the one doing all the worrying.
It was only a week later that the healer finally signed off on her full recovery and, much to Draco’s chagrin, was able to resume her research. After managing to get her report done with satisfaction, Hermione headed back to her room. She looked fondly at her stuffed ferret (she had returned Scorpius’ dragon, though he protested). Before she went to bed, she noticed her beaded back on her bedside table, which she had almost forgotten about since the attack. She pulled out the photo from the fair, looking at it fondly before placing it on her bedside table then took her cellphone out. She looked curiously at the screen upon noticing a notification from a day or so after her abduction.
DM: imy
Notes:
A/N: Hi 🥺 I’m sorry for all the delays - so much things went on in my life that I had to get over with in addition to me being unhappy with the original draft of this chapter. I feel so bad saying on instagram I would get it out the next day but wouldn’t 🥲 I should be able to get more chapters out more consistently! Thank you all for the support and love - it means sooo much to me.
**Eye for an eye quote, from Gandhi
Chapter 25: Chapter XXIV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“The room rang with her voice, then with silence.
In the shaded darkness, silence had the quality of a looming dragon.
It seemed to roar and the roar to reverberate, to dominate.
To escape from it would require a burst of recklessness, even cruelty.”
— Anita Desai
“And how’s our Gryffindor princess doing?” a cool voice sounded from the library doorway. Hermione looked up from her research to see Pansy smirking, her dark bob glinting sharply in the afternoon light. Hermione knew that the Zabinis along with Theo and Luna were coming over before the meeting at the Order headquarters so the Pansy’s presence wasn’t too much of a surprise.
“I’m good. And you?” Hermione said politely, still not knowing what to make of the witch.
“Fine, fine,” Pansy sighed and sashayed over to the sofa, making herself right at home. The Slytherin rested her head on her propped arm, staring down Hermione before opening her mouth. “I’ll admit you gave us quite a scare, Granger. I haven’t seen Draco so… unhinged .” Pansy gave her an assessing gaze as if searching for something in her face.
Hermione averted her gaze, busying herself with putting away her catalog of research before straightening and meeting Pansy’s eyes. “I never got a chance to thank you — all of you, for saving me,” Hermione said softly but firmly, ignoring her comment about a certain blond.
Pansy shrugged. “I’ll be honest, Granger, it was suicidal. But we didn’t have a choice really,” she smiled ruefully.
Hermione gasped. “But — but Draco said you volunteered! I would never have — ”
“Yes yes we volunteered but not out of some Gryffindor moment of bravery,” she snorted. “Draco would’ve gone alone anyway.” Hermione froze, guilt creeping up her spine. “You should’ve seen him — he was quite livid. For a moment even I thought the Dark Lord’s hound had made an appearance.”
“Oh don’t have that look on your face, Granger. Sure, we did volunteer because we weren’t keen on seeing Draco get himself killed, but okay, maybe we also didn’t like the idea of a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor being held captive and tortured… I — I know what they’re capable of,” A dark look crossed her face.
Hermione blinked at Pansy’s change of tone, able to detect the layers of emotions underlying her voice.
“Did Draco ever tell you how Blaise and I got out of the whole heir ordeal?”
Hermione shook her head.
“Blaise and I had always been friends. But when we were kids I pursued Draco as you know because he was the better prize. My mother made sure I knew it. After sixth year however, when Draco isolated himself, Blaise and I got close. Long story short, I was actually happy when Blaise and I were arranged to marry when the heir decree was out. The world was falling apart but at least we were okay.” Pansy let out a shaky breath, shutting her eyes. “My mother… just before the Dark Lord won, she was already going mad — she’s had this condition due to her side having a drop of seer blood. She would have dreams that would plague her, her mind going in and out but no one could ever make sense of her ‘predictions.’ By the time the Dark Lord took over, she was delirious and violent. And after Blaise and I married she said she wanted to see me — couldn’t be consoled until she saw me. And I did. She kept rambling about children and the Dark Lord, and that she knew what would happen. And she attacked me. She took a knife and… made sure I would never have children.”
Hermione couldn’t hide her horror. She had known something had happened to Pansy, but not her own mother mutilating her, taking away her ability to have children. She could not even begin to imagine the pain Pansy must have gone through and was still going through.
“Blaise has always been neutral in the war, playing which side would give him a better chance of survival. Blood purity was a political tool or ideology for him rather than an actual belief. His mother abandoned him for multiple new husbands — he had no choice but to play whatever role or cards he needed to survive,” she looked fiercely at Hermione as she spoke about her husband. “As for me, I did believe in blood purity. I won't deny that. But then afterwards, after seeing what a pureblood world looks like? I couldn’t be more disgusted.” She sneered in disdain. “And so I know, Granger. I’ve seen what they do to pureblood, half-blood, and muggleborn witches in this world. I can be a conniving evil pureblood bitch, but that monster is something else.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Hermione whispered. “It’s fucked up and that’s all I can say really.”
“No Gryffindor speech about how it’ll make me stronger?” She grinned, but Hermione could see the glassiness in her green eyes.
“No,” Hermione smiled softly.
“So I hope, Hermione , you’d stop being so cagy around us,” Pansy said nonchalantly, inspecting her nails as if she had not just shared a part of her past. Hermione could tell, however, she was waiting for a response.
“I know I have my — my assumptions. And I’ll admit that I’m defensive and sometimes let the past interfere — Merlin and Morgana know how many times Draco and I have fought over it.” Pansy smirked. “But I can’t hold all of you to who you were. I’m not who I once was, and that’s still something I’m still trying to accept and live with. We’ve all fucked up. If there’s anything this war taught me is that there is no clear line between good and evil. We’ve all needed to do terrible things in this war,” Hermione looked out the window, catching Blaise and Draco in conversation near the edge of the forest as Scorpius played around their legs chasing a yellow butterfly. As she watched the excited joy in his face, Hermione found herself tentatively relaxed and feeling… light. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Well, enough of this,” Pansy cleared her throat daintily a moment later. “Now tell me about those muggle jeans that’s got Draco’s pureblood prudish sensibilities in hackles.” Hermione bristled. “Oh come on. I think Blaise would like them on me. It does wonders on your ass, Granger.”
Hermione blushed, swatting Pansy’s hand when she tried to tug on the material. Pansy simply laughed heartily, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from joining her.
***
“Tea, Theodore?” Luna asked, not catching Theo’s expression blanche momentarily. “I made it special, just how you like it so it keeps the wrackspurts away.”
“Thanks, Luna,” he smiled with a strained expression. At her expectant look, he took a sip. She grinned widely before pouring cups for everyone else.
“And how are you, Hermione?” Luna turned, blinking at Hermione with her wide silvery-blue eyes. In the morning light, they reminded Hermione of glass. There was a steady intelligence to them, like a calmly flowing stream running through dark woods.
Hermione, along with the rest of the Slytherins, had to hide their grins as from behind Luna they caught Theo silently gagging and chuck the rest of the tea in a nearby potted plant.
“I feel much better! Thank you, Luna.” Hermione steeled herself and looked at every single one of them that risked their lives for her. “I didn’t get a chance, but I’d like to thank all of you for saving me.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll collect on our debt soon,” Blaise winked. “Don’t think we didn’t see the opportunity to get a favor from the Golden Girl.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist the smile tugging on her lips.
“Oh and not to mention, keeping Draco from turning into a bloody Gryffindor,” Theo sighed. “Really, Granger, what kind of sick potion have you got him under — fuck !” he cursed when Draco thwacked the back of his head with his palm.
Hermione giggled. “But, seriously, thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Blaise shrugged. “Or go around telling everyone. Couldn’t have our reputation ruined now, can we?”
“Yes, wuined!” Scorpius chirped from where he sat on the floor playing with the wooden toy lion Blaise had given him (to which Draco had glared and muttered at when gifted).
“Speaking of the Order, does anyone know what to expect for the meeting?” Theo asked. “Would be good if they actually gave us real missions instead of research and experimentation. We can’t even test out our work on the field,” he huffed, pulling out a bronze sphere the size of a snitch and began tinkering with it.
“It’ll probably be a while,” Draco answered. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if they started asking about the bomb you and Lovegood created, since it actually worked .”
“Wasn’t my fault we never got a chance to properly try it out!” Theo retorted defensively. “Unfortunately, a lot of our experiments are stuck in the prototype stage,” he said sulkily. “I even get so bored sometimes, I’ve begun domesticating the wild garden gnomes.”
“Pardon?” Draco choked on his tea.
“Theodore has been spending his time taming the garden gnomes — or to use their correct name, Gernumbli gardensi ,” Luna responded, her eyes still staring off into the distance. “They were quite feral but you must understand that they were going through hard times. Theodore tried to get rid of them in the beginning but I did warn him they would just come back. Now he’s got them all settled in their own area and even doing his bidding to attack when nargles come and take our things. Their saliva is quite beneficial too, did you know?”
Hermione suppressed a smile at the disturbed look on Draco’s face. Draco caught her eye, lifting a brow silently in a very evident what-the-fuck-is-a-nargle kind of way. Hermione merely shook her head and grinned. Draco ran his tongue over his teeth as if debating to ask outloud, holding her gaze with laughing eyes.
“Just you watch — the Dark Lord will never see an army of garden gnomes coming his way,” Theo said imperiously. “Evil beasts I tell you.”
“Yes, Theodore, the Dark Lord will be beaten to death by a bunch of stout garden gnomes,” Blaise drawled. “I suppose you could call in a favor with your rodent friends to join the lot?”
Hermione and the others laughed as Theo glared murderously at Blaise.
“Enough about the war and the Order, we get enough of that every day,” Pansy tutted. “Blaise, dear, have you seen Granger’s muggle jeans? I should get a pair shouldn’t I?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the conniving look on Pansy’s face as Blaise lit up in some kind of understanding.
“Oh, they do make your legs and buttocks quite shapely, Hermione,” Luna piped up, poking at Hermione’s hip. Hermione flushed at the sudden attention of everyone in the room.
“Indeed, indeed,” Theo joined in, a mischievous look in his eyes as he glanced at Draco’s frowning face from across the room. “Would give any pureblood a heart attack. Never knew you were hiding such a pair of legs under those robes, Granger.”
Hermione good-naturedly flashed him a rude gesture to which he winked back and Blaise chuckled.
Before Hermione could respond, Draco crossed the room, a scowl on his face as he seated himself beside her on the sofa then dropped a throw blanket on her lap, all without looking directly at her. Hermione’s cheeks burned as Pansy grinned triumphantly and Blaise’s smile widened behind his cup of tea.
***
“Granger, a word?” Blaise’s smooth voice called out as Hermione was about to leave the room with the others. Watson had just arrived and taken Scorpius to the garden. They were expected at headquarters soon.
“Sure,” she replied, puzzled. Draco halted at the doorway, eyes darting between her and Blaise before Hermione nodded at him. He stood for a moment longer, giving Blaise a warning look before forcing himself out.
“I see Pansy told you about… what happened to her?” Blaise asked, hands behind his back as he casually inspected the room.
“She did,” Hermione responded, not knowing where the conversation was headed.
“She can be harsh and tense sometimes but she means well. She is also very private, so I was surprised she told you — well, not that surprised. Pans is learning how to get along with others without being driven by some political or power play,” he mused, “and she seems to like you enough. And not just because of the… friendship between you and Draco.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione crossed her arms nervously, not knowing what was going on in Blaise’s mind. Despite his silent and calm demeanor, he was observant. He had always held the aura of somebody who knew something you didn’t, a passive player who worked in the shadows and waited for the pieces to fall into place.
“Theo is Theo,” he continued, as if he didn’t hear her. “He and Pans can be headaches for different reasons,” he smiled as if coming across a fond memory. “Pans for her tenacity and ferocity — that I love of course — and Theodore for his impulsivity despite being a genius. Draco on the other hand,” he chuckled fondly. “He’s stubborn — like you. When he sets his mind on… something, he’s determined. Choosing to do it all on his own.”
After a moment, he settled on an armchair, steepling his hands. “Sixth year — when he was fixing the cabinet — he completely isolated himself. Refused to tell Pansy and I. We knew it was bad and Draco has the tendency to close himself off and keep his emotions compartmentalized. He’s been through a lot, Hermione.” His dark eyes bore into her, watching for the smallest of reactions. “And not just when he was the Dark Lord’s hound — even then he had closed himself off in order to climb the ladders faster than any Death Eater could. But with other things too. He has ghosts that still haunt him and he will push people away and try to bury every emotion and feeling he has.”
Unbidden, Hermione remembered his closed off expression, the nightmares, the sound of his dead’s wife’s name in his sleep. She couldn’t help the curdling in her stomach.
“He will do those things because he is scared of getting hurt — of feeling .” Blaise gave her a hard searching look. “He is stubborn but I think you are too,” the corner of his lips lifted.
Their names were called out from the foyer by an impatient Pansy.
“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Blaise.”
“And I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out, Granger. Perhaps too smart.” Blaise smiled wryly and stood up. He pivoted to leave, then paused. “It is in our nature to protect ourselves from getting hurt, but we can’t let our fear of getting hurt stop us from fighting for something that could make us happy in the end. Remember that.”
Hermione remained standing, his words echoing in her mind even as he left the room.
***
“Mione! You’re alright!” Hermione caught a flash of fiery hair before a firm body launched itself at her, almost knocking her off her feet.
“Ginny, hey,” Hermione responded, drawing back after briefly returning her hug. Quickly, she glanced at the Slytherins who shifted defensively as more people began to glare at them, except for Luna who waved as if there was no tension in the air.
“We were all so worried,” Ginny squeezed her shoulder while the others — Dean, Seamus, and Parvati — expressed their concern as well. “If Malfoy hadn’t left you — ”
“What did you just say?” an icy voice interrupted from behind her. Hermione’s breath halted as she felt him looming behind her. His magic thrummed darkly from where he stood, as if barely leashed.
“I said,” Ginny gritted out, straightening herself and gripping her wand, “if you hadn’t left her like a fucking coward — ”
The air crackled.
“Draco!” Hermione swiftly turned, a hand on his chest just as he stepped forward. Thankfully George stepped in as well to block his sister. She could feel Draco shaking as pure rage flitted over his hard features.
“Oh please! You haven’t changed Malfoy — ”
“ Ginny ,” Hermione growled over her shoulder at the red-head.
“Leave it, Hermione,” Draco said in a clipped voice under his breath. He sneered as his eyes met the other Order members who had drawn their wands.
“ No ,” Hermione replied with a voice like steel. Draco blinked at her briefly before she turned fully to face Ginny and everyone in the room, looking at every one of their faces. “I don’t owe any of you an explanation and neither does Draco. All you need to know is that I made him leave me behind to save himself and his son. And he came for me still — the Slytherins and Luna did. They saved me. It doesn’t matter if you’re still upset about what he has done or what they have all done, all you need to know is that they are on our side now. We’re in the middle of a war for fucks sake,” she laughed humorously. “I’m sick of the glares and complaints. If you have an actual problem, take it up with me.”
There was a moment of tense silence, some avoiding her gaze, others looking at her in disgust but she didn’t care. George gave her a reassuring smile. Ginny and the other Gryffindors were looking at her with astonished features as if they didn’t recognize her. And she supposed they didn’t. There was a vicious satisfaction in making them finally see who she truly was now like a cold awakening long overdue. Because she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t live up to the image of who she once was, so perfectly preserved in their minds.
Hermione let out a breath. She felt nostalgic looking at her old friends, full of fond memories. And she was still thankful for that, for them — she would always be. She would always love them and appreciate them for the time they had had together and wish them all happiness and love. But she could no longer give them the friendship they needed — and with a terrifying clarity she realized neither could they. She could not force herself any longer and pretend, and perhaps only from a distance could she appreciate them. With a quiet sadness, she had come to accept that not all friendships stayed through all stages of your life, like outgrowing training wheels or a pair of your favorite boots. But she would always hold them in her heart, in that place where a buck-toothed girl learned how to find companionship for the first time outside of books. They would always be in her heart, but perhaps, not in her life.
“Come on, Granger,” Pansy crooned with an all too indulgent look on her face. The Slytherin eyed Ginny who scowled at them. Unbothered, she linked her arm with Hermione’s and led her past a sea of people who glared at them which only seemed to fuel the haughty look on her face. “We’ll be late for the meeting.”
***
“ — where we sent three scouts. We have confirmed sightings of Death Eaters using this establishment as not just a place to indulge in a little respite from the war, but conduct some meetings,” Kingsley said as he flicked his hand and floated copies of parchment across the table. His eyes softened as they landed on Hermione as if in apology before his gaze shifted to the scar on her face, lingering a little too long. Hermione stiffened and focused on the parchment in front of her.
“So what are we going to do? Attack?” McLaggen asked.
Draco grimaced, biting his tongue to prevent himself from making a comment at the idiotic suggestion. As to how the buffoon was invited to the meeting he didn’t know. He felt at ease however at the presence of his Slytherin friends around the circular table, diluting the potency of the other houses. Ginny Weasley continued glaring at him but he didn’t care.
“If I may,” Pansy piped up from the other side of Hermione, “if we’re not looking at idiotic plans that will get us killed, I suggest going undercover. It’s an establishment, did you say? Let’s call it what it is — it’s a whore house, a prostitution den, a brothel where those filthy bastards fuck over the poor girls stuck there. It calls for a woman’s job.”
Ginny scoffed, earning a glare from Pansy who straightened in her seat, a slight pink to her cheeks.
“I think Pansy’s idea might work,” Hermione nodded, running over the information on the parchment again.
“What are you proposing, Ms. Granger?” Moody said, interested, his glass eye narrowing.
“That two of us come in disguised as these sex workers and glean information. To them, these women are nothing but objects, they won’t care what we hear.”
“It could work…” Kingsley tapped his finger on the table, a pondering look on his face.
“Hermione and I —”
“Excuse me?” Pansy interrupted Ginny.
“Something to say Parkinson?” Ginny lifted a brow.
“It’s Zabini now, sweetheart, and yes I have something to say,” Pansy lifted her chin. Blaise chuckled from her other side. “ Clearly, I would be the better choice to partner with Hermione in this mission. I’ve spent years mastering the art of manipulation and seduction, while you, Ginevra, I don’t think you are even capable of seducing a manticore in heat.”
Theo choked.
“You fucking bitch —”
“Ginny!” Hermione yelled, even surprising Draco. Pansy crossed her arms and smiled with satisfaction. Hermione gave Pansy a reprimanding look to which Pansy shrugged. What? It’s true , she mouthed.
Ginny gaped like a fish. “Mione, surely you wouldn’t pick this snake — ”
“It’s not about picking who I want on the mission Ginny. Pansy is right, she probably knows more about how to go undercover for these kinds of places, especially having been around Death Eaters.”
Ginny’s jaw clenched, glaring at Pansy acidly.
“Then it’s settled,” Moody said, banging his cane on the paneled floor. “Prepare for the mission, both of you. You know the protocols.”
***
“Replaced me now, have you?”
Hermione turned around from where she was examining the brothel’s plans in Moody’s office.
“More like an upgrade really.”
Draco’s lips quirked. “You wound me, Granger.”
“Maybe that was the intention, Malfoy,” she retorted, jutting her chin out. Draco cocked his head.
Before she knew what was happening, he had her cornered, bracketing her body with two arms placed firmly on the desk behind her. His eyelids fluttered heavily over darkening irises. Hermione’s lips parted unconsciously, her heart stuttering when his head dipped forward only to change its path just barely so that his lips brushed her cheek before settling a breath away from her ear.
“I don’t think you understand the damage you can do, Hermione Granger.”
She swallowed.
Suddenly, Theo barged into the room. Hermione jolted and straightened, eyes wide at the grinning man in the doorway she could just make out over Draco’s shoulder. Theo coughed and Hermione blushed, focusing her gaze on the clock.
“What do you want, Theo?” Just before Draco turned to look at their guest, Hermione thought she imagined a ghost of a hand briefly brush her cheek. Draco crossed his arms and leaned back on the desk, settling next to her.
Theo smiled cheekily and deposited himself ceremoniously on one of the chairs in front of them. Hermione shifted when he put his feet up on the desk in between her and Draco like some kind of barricade.
Draco and Hermione glared at him. “Salazar, the both of you I swear,” he huffed, raising both hands in surrender and standing.
“Anything you needed, Theo?” Hermione inquired.
“My sweet, dear Hermione,” Draco rolled his eyes, “thank you for caring so much about my needs. Indeed , there is this icy bloke who won’t stop being a bastard.”
Hermione quirked a smile. “Oh?”
Theo shivered, scooting closer to her and looking side to side. “Oh yes, yes. Quite the fright! A true monster with no soul who will steal your hair products in the night! His name rhymes with,” Theo cupped his mouth, “Traco Balfoy,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Traco Balfoy,” Draco repeated deadpanned. Theo yelped, hiding behind Hermione, using her as a shield from Draco’s annoyed look. Hermione giggled
“Legend has it that he can only be tamed,” — Draco bristled — “by a witch of brains, beauty, and bushy hair!”
“ Ouch! ” Theo yelled, rubbing his arm whilst looking incredulously at Hermione who bit her lip and tucked her wand back in her holster. “ Et tu, Hermione ?!”
“Get over yourself, Theodore. Even the Dark Lord would die over your dramatics,” Draco muttered.
Theo scowled, still rubbing his arm as he was severely injured from the stinging hex she had given him.
“You two are a danger to all of us,” he huffed before making his way out sulkily.
Draco shut his eyes and sighed heavily, pinching his nose. Hermione laughed.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh I’ve been reading all your comments on the last chapter and they’ve been too kind. Thank you so much for all your understanding and support. You have no idea how much it helps me get through my day! Some Slytherin crew content today and there will be more action in the next chapter with Pansy and Hermione’s mission! After that, let’s just say things get more intense and… potentially complicated between Draco and Hermione. We are going to earn that angst tag after all. To those who have wondered about what happened with Astoria, that will all come up soon I promise. Let me know your thoughts so far!! And connect with me on instagram @cz_bl for some memes or if you just wanna chat!!
*Some people will always be in your heart but not in your life quote from some unknown wise person on tumblr that I’ve tried to search for. Do let me know if you find who said it or at least the original user name!!
Chapter 26: Chapter XXV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Remember what you must do
when they undervalue you,
when they think
your softness is your weakness,
when they treat your kindness
like it is their advantage.
You awaken
every dragon,
every wolf,
every monster
that sleeps inside you
and you remind them
what hell looks like
when it wears the skin
of a gentle human.”
— Nikita Gill
“Are you sure the disguise will be enough?” Draco questioned curiously, watching the two witches getting ready before him. He had to blink once more as he stared at the image of Pansy Zabini, née Parkinson, standing in front of Hermione Granger with one sharp finger underneath her chin and the other smearing some dark substance on her lids.
In response to his question, Pansy merely glanced over her shoulders shooting him a venomous glare.
“Trust me, mate,” Blaise chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder, “it’s better to not ask questions.”
“Good boy,” Pansy humphed with a superior look on her face.
When she had her attention back to Hermione, Draco lifted a brow at Blaise’s lack of protest. “Someone tug on your leash, Zabini?”
“I find, dear Draco, it’s better to surrender to your fate,” he responded with an amused glance at the bushy-haired witch who had her lips parted as Pansy dabbed a deep rouge color on her plump lips. Draco swallowed, and looked away.
Draco still couldn’t believe that Pansy had somehow managed to get Moody and Kinglsey to not only assign her a mission but give in to her request that Hermione Granger be her partner for the mission. To an even greater surprise, Hermione had agreed. In the beginning, Draco had tried to insist he accompany them from a distance; he was, after all, Hermione’s partner. Blaise had simply handed him a flask of firewhiskey and shook his head, Pansy looking in approval and Hermione, amused.
The only thing he had managed to get out of them was that they had gotten wind that Mulciber was going to be there. Draco sneered at the thought of one of Voldemort’s oldest Death Eaters. They never saw eye to eye when they had crossed paths during his time as a Death Eater. But even Draco admitted he was ruthless, particularly interested in helpless women. Draco’s insides twisted at Hermione and Pansy potentially facing him.
“All done!” Pansy chirped, waving her wand with flourish and stepping back to assess her work.
Draco looked up, blinking rapidly. Pansy had elongated Hermione’s hair, straightened it and sleeked it. Her lids were heavy and features sharpened with the use of cosmetics. Hermione cleared her throat and stood, giving Draco a full look. She wore a dark green dress that hugged her curves, leaving little to his traitorous imagination. Draco felt parched — he immediately called on to his occlumency and berated himself for the turn of his thoughts. The makeup had definitely brought out her features, yet he couldn’t help but look for her wild curls, natural blush, and those wide doe-eyes she had whenever he caught her unawares in the middle of a book.
“Remind me again, why can't you just use polyjuice?” Draco said after finally collecting himself. They did look unrecognizable, but he still worried.
“ Because , it’s too risky if we have to find a way to drink the potion every hour. Also, we don’t know if they have measures in place.”
“Pansy’s right,” Hermione sighed. “I’ll admit, it’s not my choice of disguise but we look unrecognizable enough.”
Draco frowned when Pansy glamoured the scar on Hermione’s face as she had done with the one on her forearm.
“It doesn’t take magic to ensnare a man, Draco dear,” Pansy said as touched up her own face in the mirror. She gave Hermione a secret smile and Hermione shook her head as if she couldn’t believe she agreed to this.
“Well we better get going — the portkey leaves in a bit,” Pansy said as she linked arms with Hermione. “Boys, you know how hungry I get in the middle of the night. We shouldn’t be too long but Granger and I will be expecting a little meal after we succeed in our mission.”
Draco sighed.
***
Hermione and Pansy landed on their feet just on the outskirts of the muggle town in Ireland. The moon was shrouded by clouds, painting a dark blanket over the small town. Only pinpricks of light illuminated the damp cobblestone streets. As they walked in silence, wind howled through the deserted homes like the desperate whisper of ghosts that once lived there.
Just a couple months after the Battle of Hogwarts, the muggle town that had been famous amongst tourists was attacked and overrun by Death Eaters. Not too long after, it was turned into a playground for entertainment. The story the muggles had been fed was that there was a strange disease spreading and the place had been isolated ever since.
As she and Pansy walked further, Hermione felt her phone buzz in the concealed pocket of her dress.
DM: Be safe.
Hermione breathed in slowly as the two words glowed back at her.
HG: I will.
“How sweet.” Hermione startled at Pansy’s beaming face over her shoulder. “Oh, don’t be like that, Granger,” she pouted at Hermione’s frown. “Draco Malfoy does not act like an overbearing mother hen with anybody except you.”
Hermione sputtered.
“Don’t get me wrong — he’s still a broody bastard. But he’d hex me to hell if I brought you home with even a single hair on your bushy head touched.”
“He’s my mission partner, we need to have each other’s backs.” Pansy didn’t respond, only giving her a bored look. “And we’re — we’re… friends.”
Hermione blushed at her admission, but it was true. He was her friend but not in the same way Ginny had been, even Harry or Ron. He knew when she needed an ear to listen or some space. He was interested in what she had to say, matching her in intellect, which never failed to surprise her. She felt as if she didn’t have to stop herself when she got excited about a theorem she had stumbled across in her research or a half-formed idea she had for a new potion. There was an odd sense of companionship even in the silence when they would just sit in the library on a rainy afternoon, reading or researching on their own. Or long days when a cup of tea would be waiting for her on the counter or the way he challenged her on an idea, urging her to think of a problem from a perspective she had not considered. But it was also on darker days when he would find her holed up in her room unable to get up from bed and do anything productive. And though he didn’t have all the words or answers to her questions, when she felt like screaming into the void, he was there. He was there with his hand entwined in hers in silence, letting her feel every horrible thing that bubbled up inside at her because even if he could not take all that pain and trauma away, he did not let her forget that she was not alone.
Hermione took in a shaky breath as she felt something in her chest open up.
“We’re here.”
Hermione blinked up as the road widened into a cross-section. The establishment was bright and filled with revelry — music and laughter, sounds she had not heard in a long time. It was at odds with the dark cold streets. As they approached, the smell of alcohol, cheap perfume, and smoke permeated her senses.
No one noticed when they slipped in from a side entrance. Inside, there was a whirl of color as women draped in silks and velvet danced and arched on tables. Men lounged languidly on the brightly colored couches, some women leaning into their black-robed bodies. The smoke in the air turned the scene into an opium haze-like dream.
“Loosen up, Granger,” Pansy whispered in her ear as she slipped on a coy smile. Hermione tried to resist the urge to pull her dress longer as she felt multiple gazes slither over her form.
“Hello, lovelies,” crooned a man with oily black hair. “Care for some company?”
Hermione let Pansy take the lead, mimicking her giggle and batting her eyelashes. The man grinned, putting his hands on the small of their backs and leading to a group of men with women in tight dresses on their laps.
“What do you have over there, Mundair?” asked a blond haired man smoking a cigar. A petite red-haired girl was draped around him, kissing his neck.
“Just a pair of pretty doves,” Mundair answered, guiding them to sit on either side of him. “Because of your success in the recent raid, I’ll give you the first pick, Mulciber?”
Hermione’s spine stiffened as she laid eyes on a man with dark eyes and hair and a beaked nose sipping from a crystal glass of what looked like elf-made wine. Slowly, he leaned forward, setting the glass down. His thin lips settled into a smile, eyes boring into Hermione before trailing down her body. Hermione bit her lip to hide her revulsion at his oily gaze.
“Never seen you before,” he leered. Mundair chuckled, gripping Hermione’s arm bruisingly before flinging her into Mulciber’s lap. Mulciber’s fingers dug into her hip and she shifted, fighting her panic as his arms snaked around her. “Poor bird, you’re trembling. Here, have a drink.”
Hermione fought to calm herself, pretending to take a sip when he brought the cup to her lips. She caught Pansy’s eye, who leaned on Mundair’s shoulder, both worry and a warning in her eyes. Imperceptibly, Hermione nodded, forcing herself to relax and smile as she leaned back into Mulciber’s body. They had to find a way to get him alone and extract information. Thankfully, the men were distracted exchanging stories and complaints as they commanded the women to refill their drinks.
She was feeding Mulciber grapes when she caught sight of one of the men gripping a girl tightly around the wrists as he kissed her neck. Despite her breathy laughs, Hermione recognized the pure panic in her eyes. She was a pretty girl — blonde hair coiled in soft ringlets, high cheekbones, and a well endowed body.
“Come on, love,” the man on her slurred, “with these tits you’re just asking for it. Don’t worry, you’ll get your pay, you little whore.”
Hermione felt sick as the Death Eater groped one of her breasts harshly, causing her to yelp. This only seemed to fuel him more.
Before she could think, Hermione knocked off one of the pitchers, drenching the man in wine.
“I’m so sorry!” Hermione gasped.
“You reckless bitch,” the man snarled, back handing her. Hermione fell to the ground, clutching her cheek, feeling a trickle of blood running down her nose.
“Really, Soros, why do you have to damage fine goods,” Mulciber drawled.
Before Hermione could raise her body, thin but firm arms pulled her upright. “Let me take her to the back and have her cleaned up and as good as new! The Madam has some supplies in the back.” Hermione’s vision cleared, realizing it was the blond haired girl helping her up.
“I should go too,” she heard Pansy come to her other side as she staggered on her heels. “I promise we’ll make it up to you all,” Pansy winked. The men cautiously looked at them, but upon seeing Hermione’s bleeding face, sneered and nodded before going back to their conversation.
“Are you alright?” the blonde girl asked once they reached a small empty backroom. Hermione merely nodded as the girl dabbed her face with a cloth. Hermione blinked, taking in the tiny room lined with shelves. When the blood was finally cleaned, Pansy used her wand to heal her face as well as repair her hair and makeup.
“You’re both not from here are you.”
Pansy and Hermione stilled.
“It’s alright, I won’t say anything,” the girl smiled weakly. “But you shouldn’t be here. I’ve been working for the Madam since before the Death Eaters took over and it’s not a safe place for anyone new to the trade with them overrunning the place.”
“We’re here to get information,” Pansy said carefully. The girl’s eyes widened.
“Bridgette — my name is Bridgette.” Her fingers were trembling. “I’m a squib and I've been working here ever since my family tossed me out for being one.”
“How are they keeping you here?” Hermione asked, an angry fire burning inside of her.
“Most of us are under magical blood-contracts with the Madam, even since before the war. But many more came here for protection since you-know-who took over. Even if our contracts were broken, there’s nowhere else to go. The world is not a safe place for a girl with a pretty face — with or without war,” she smiled ruefully.
Hermione glanced at Pansy, who’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears and anger. Here was another side of the war — no , of the world, war or not. Girls who were forced into service in order to survive. It was fucked up how the world shamed women for being beautiful and doing what they needed to survive. Because the only thing that was shameful was a society that created an environment where young girls had to spread their legs in order to live day by day yet at the same time called them whores or sluts, all the while turning a blind eye to the men that paid for their services.
“Is there no way we can get you out? Help you and the others?” Pansy asked, a very Gryffindor determination on her face.
“None of us know how to fight. We’re better off here. The only thing that would help is for this war to end. At least then the Madam could have control back without Death Eaters doing whatever they wanted.” Bridgette swallowed. “That’s why you’re here right? To end the war?”
Hermione nodded slowly. A look of determination entered the girl’s face.
“I want to help.”
***
“How about we find a bit of privacy?” Hermione whispered in Mulciber’s ear. She and the girls had made sure they were drunk. Ever since she, Pansy, and Bridgette returned, a burning rage thrummed through her. Confidently, she caressed Mulciber’s chest, her eyes gleaming with vicious intent.
“Not going to let us join in?” Pansy pouted from her place on Mundair’s lap. The Death Eater’s shared a look in their drunken haze, a sickening lust evident within them as they continued to let their hands wander over their bodies.
Hermione batted her eyelashes, letting her gaze trail over his form. Instead of feeling self-conscious and unsettled, after speaking to Bridgette, she felt comfortable in her skin — it was her body after all. She finally began to understand what Pansy was talking about; there was a kind of power in the female form — it was a weapon of its own she realized as she played the delicate damsel in the snake pit.
Hermione pushed her chest forward, catching Mulciber’s hand before he could touch her. “A room maybe? With my pretty friend over there?” Hermione bit her lip, feigning innocence as she glanced over at Pansy.
Mulciber’s pupils were blown wide as he struggled to his feet, his arm over her shoulders. Hermione extended an arm to Pansy who smiled sharply back at her, tugging Mundair behind her. Before they entered one of the private rooms, Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Bridgette, who nodded back.
The dark wooden doors shut behind them as they entered the ensuite that was lined in cheap red velvet. A low fire burned in the hearth.
“Is it true?” Hermione whispered, “that you have the Dark Lord’s ear?” Pansy giggled.
Mulciber smirked, depositing himself on one of the chaises and pulling her on his lap. Pansy and Mundair settled on the other.
“I’m one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted,” Mulciber said with an air of pride. He took the wine glass Hermione had poured. “He has me doing all his confidential work.”
“Oh?” Hermione purred. She shot a glance at Pansy who was refilling Mundair’s glass again. “I heard it was Lord Malfoy he confided in. He was the Dark Lord’s hound was he not?”
Her words seemed to work as Mulciber’s face went hard, his hands curling into firsts.
“That blood-traitor never had the same trust the Dark Lord has in me — a good choice given how he turned sides. The Malfoy name, my dear, has been in decline since Lucius Malfoy disappointed the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy may have climbed the ranks to be a general, but all he ever was was a cowardly bastard with a runt of a son,” he laughed heartily.
Hermione forced herself to relax, to temper her rage at his words and her need to defend Draco and Scorpius.
“So the Dark Lord confides in you?” Hermione gasped, running her hands along his thighs, feeling the way his body trembled under her touch. She was close, so close.
“Yes,” he slurred. Hermione urged him to take another drink. “In fact, there’s a confidential task that he entrusted me to lead. There’s a snake in the Cistrine forest, north of the Alpine mountains,” he chuckled, his eyes drooping as the wine took effect. “Something the Dark Lord covets.” Hermione glanced over at Pansy who had a passed out Mundair on her lap. They exchanged a look, pocketing the information.
Before Hermione could extract more information, the doors burst open. Hermione’s arm throbbed as in the threshold stood Bellatrix. The witch sneered, gaze completely focused on Mulciber and Mundair.
“What is this?” she walked in a room, an evident crackle like lightning electrifying the atmosphere. She radiated power — an untamed and raw kind of power that Hermione knew so well. She looked worse, more unhinged , then she did the last time Hermione saw her. Her face was as wane as a sickle moon, her hair in disarray, falling over her dark eyes. There was something… off about her. “Having a little fun, are we?”
Hermione jumped off Mulciber’s lap and cowered on the ground when Bellatrix strutted forward and struck Mulciber across the face. Mulciber startled, pure fear in his eyes as the witch smiled wildly.
“Bellatrix, I was just having a quick break before attending to the prisoners — ”
He stopped when a laugh cut through the room, even Hermione shuddered, trying to make herself invisible.
“A break ? Is serving the Dark Lord such an arduous task,” she said in an eerie high pitched voice. “But of course, you males need to warm your cocks,” Bellatrix laughed again as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world. “Can’t control your cock? Tsk, no better than filthy dogs are you? A slave to your desires,” she mused, shutting her eyes and caressing her wand. “It’s no wonder I am the Dark Lord’s right hand. I serve him , above my bodily desires, I put him above me, because he’s the only thing we need,” she said quietly. Reverently.
“Bellatrix — ”
“ Crucio !” Hermione braced herself, but nothing came except for Mulciber’s screams echoing in symphony with Bellatrix’s laughs. Hermione looked to Pansy to see if she was alright — her face was pale as she watched from under Mundair’s unconscious body.
Before Bellatrix could turn to look at them, a sound from the main hall got their attention. Bellatrix’s head snapped to the sight of Bridgette in the doorway. Bridgette immediately dropped to her knees and cowered.
“My Lady…”
“What is it, girl?” Bellatrix pointed her wand against Bridgette’s neck, tilting her chin up.
“A — a brawl. There’s a brawl.”
Bellatrix growled, striding out of the room. Bridgette immediately looked to Pansy and Hermione, nodding to them in relief.
“What…?” Mulciber rasped, as he tried to get up. Before he could, he was knocked out by Hermione’s fist to his face. She spat at him as she staggered away. Her knuckles would definitely bruise but it was worth the satisfaction.
“Pans, let’s get out of here,” she said as she looked at Pansy, who had a wicked smile on her face.
***
The main hall was in complete chaos. Spells shot out as the women ran and hid. Men brawled, blindly, getting to anyone they could. Bellatrix stood in the middle of the fray, a livid look on her face as she hexed anyone in her way. Hermione and Pansy gingerly made their way out the back door, trying to avoid any attention.
“Wait!”
Pansy turned towards Hermione with a nervous looking Bridgette in the doorway.
“Aren’t you coming?” Pansy asked.
Bridgette looked at them, then at the chaos behind her. “I can’t. I can’t leave the girls back here.”
“Bridgette…” Hermione said, pained. She wished she could take them all out of there at that very moment. The old Hermione would have made some bold attempt. But it was too risky. Guilt ate up at her for knowing that she had to leave the other girls behind. For now.
“I know,” Bridgette sighed. “But my place is here. For now. When the time is right, we’ll escape. But it would be too suspicious if we disappeared now and we are not ready.”
“Okay, but we’ll come back for you. Just let us know when you’re ready,” Hermione said solemnly. Bridgette’s eyes softened and she pulled Hermione and Pansy into a hug.
“I will,” she breathed. “Thank you. Not just for the offer but this — showing us that we can get a little power back.”
Upon pulling back, Pansy grinned. The three girls looked at each other for a moment, the chaos raging behind them and the light of the full moon shining on their faces. There was solidarity there, a sense of comfort and understanding despite the different paths they had come from. Something had awakened inside each of them that night, a sense of ownership over themselves, over their bodies that no man could take away. Bridgette grinned before disappearing into the chaos they had created just as Pansy and Hermione melted into the shadows.
***
The night air hit them as they stumbled into a dark back alley. Just as they began to make their way to the Apparition point, three male voices sounded from behind them.
“Lost, sweethearts?” a voice leered from the shadows. Three figures rounded on them.
“Don’t be scared, we promise not to bite.”
Hermione and Pansy looked at each other — they had to get out of there. If they delayed any longer, they might be caught. Hermione shook her head when Pansy reached for her wand — they probably could have taken the men on, but it was too risky if their unconscious bodies were found. They could be obliviated but they didn’t have the time especially if more Death Eaters appeared. It was safer to let them believe they were afraid.
“ Run ,” Hermione mouthed before she grabbed Pansy’s wrist and pulled her through the streets.
The men shouted as they yelled after them, sluggish from their intoxicated state. They weaved through the alleyways, almost slipping on murky puddles and broken glass.
“Over there,” Pansy rasped as they neared the edge of the town. The men were still running after them, whistling and calling out lewd names.
They lept past the anti-Apparition wards, thankful for the cover of darkness and the noise from the brawl hiding the sharp crack of apparition.
Hermione gasped as she and Pansy stumbled to the ground just outside the safehouse. From where they lay sprawled on the grass, adrenaline running through their veins, they looked at each other, faces flushed, eyes bright, and laughed.
“Well done, Hermione .”
“Likewise, Pansy .”
Pansy beamed back at her, an almost soft look in her eyes before she blinked and it turned mischievous. Pansy sat up and dusted herself, a mysterious look on her face.
Hermione followed suit and arched her brow. “What are you doing?” she asked upon seeing the witch reach into her cleavage.
“Nothing,” Pansy hummed, drawing out a shiny object, the size of a pill. Before Hermione could ask further, Pansy waved her wand and enlarged a bottle of alcohol.
“Pansy!”
Ignoring her, Pansy uncapped the bottle and took a large swig. “Oh, come on, Granger,” she rolled her eyes, “don’t be such a downer! I’m quite proud of how I nicked this right under that filthy Mundair’s nose.”
Pansy offered her the bottle with a challenging look. Hermione pursed her lips, then sighed. Pansy grinned as Hermione took a big gulp and handed the bottle back.
“This is terrible,” Hermione coughed as the alcohol burned down her throat.
“There’s our bold little Gryffindor.” Pansy lifted the bottle but before it could touch her lips, it was snatched from her hand. She whipped towards the witch in surprise as she saw her take another drink.
“If I’m going to tolerate your company, Pansy, I’ll need a bit more alcohol in my system,” Hermione chuckled.
“ Ouch ! Remind me how you weren’t sorted in Slytherin?” Pansy hissed, snatching the bottle back. “Really, you got some venom, Granger.”
They looked at each other again before bursting out in laughter.
***
“... really, mate, all you do — ”
“What was that?” Draco frowned. Blaise paused mid-sentence as they watched the library door open, revealing two very dirty but very drunk witches giggling, a very large bottle of alcohol between them.
Draco and Blaise stood. “Are you guys — ”
“ Zucchini! ” Pansy and Hermione yelled simultaneously then bursting out in laughs. Draco shared a confused look with Blaise.
“Pardon?” Blaise asked, shaking his head and approaching his wife.
“Yes you!” Hermione grinned, dirt dusting face. The glamour had worn off of them. Her curly hair was back as well as her scar on her face.
“And what did I do?’ Blaise chuckled, gently prying the bottle from Pansy’s hands.
“You, Blaise Zucchini — ” Draco snorted and Hermione giggled. “— are a lovely husband, but really, why does Zabini sound like Zucchini?”
“I don’t know, dear,” Blaise grinned, vanishing the bottle as Pansy stumbled into his arms. “But Draco and I have some stew under a stasis charm as per your command.”
Hermione leaned against the doorway, smiling as Pansy lay her head on Blaise’s chest. “Mmm maybe tomorrow,” Pansy murmured. “Right now, I’m hungry for zucchini. A large one in fact,” she said dreamily, a suggestive look on her face.
Draco choked. “I’m going to be sick.”
Hermione laughed, covering her mouth. Draco’s eyes flickered to hers.
“Well, Mrs. Zabini, I’d be happy to oblige, but you’re quite inebriated,” Blaise replied, smiling fondly back at her. “How about a nice bath and a back rub?” Pansy’s pouting face melted into a pensive one.
“Draco, you got, Granger?” Blaise called out just as he pulled out his wand.
Hermione straightened hastily at his words. She didn’t need anyone’s help. She could manage even with a little too much to drink, thank you very much. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Zucchini , that — ”
Hermione made to take a step forward but the traitorous floor deliberately chose to slip beneath her feet. She braced herself for the hard ground, resigning to her fate. She was so so tired after all.
“Huh?” she mumbled, cracking an eyelid upon noticing that she had yet to feel the cold floor underneath her poor face. Next thing she knew, she was gently hauled upwards by the hand she hadn’t noticed on her arm.
Once upright, Hermione twisted only to catch a pair of silver eyes watching her amusedly.
“I’ll manage,” Draco smirked when Hermione scowled at him.
“Bye, darlings!” Pansy hiccuped before she and Blaise portkeyed out.
Hermione staggered, finding her balance once again. “I’ll head to bed now,” Hermione mumbled. The side of Draco’s lips quirked and, despite her protests, he quietly led her back to her room with a secure hand on the small of her back. Hermione found herself nervous for some reason, unable to stop sneaking glances at him.
Once they reached her bedroom door, Hermione pivoted and blinked up at him. Draco cocked his head, as if waiting for her to speak.
“I’m guessing everything went alright?” he asked quietly when she didn’t say anything. His brows furrowed before he reached out and brushed rubble from her cheek. Hermione swallowed.
“Yes, we found out some useful information. The report should be ready by tomorrow — ”
Draco huffed, cutting her off. “Only you, Hermione Granger, would still talk about reports when completely inebriated.”
Hermione turned her nose up and crossed her arms. “I’ll have you know that I am quite capable of writing excellent reports, even drunk.”
Draco shook his head and chuckled softly before muttering about drunk swotty witches under his breath.
“No one’s forcing you to deal with drunk swotty witches , Malfoy.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Someone’s got to take care of you, Granger.”
Hermione’s breath stuttered. She blushed, averting her eyes from his intense gaze. “I can take care of myself,” she whispered. But it came out weaker than she intended.
Draco inhaled deeply, his lips lifting but it did not meet his eyes. “I know.”
He opened his mouth as if to say more but hesitated. Instead, he stepped back from her. “Get some sleep, Hermione.”
“I will,” she breathed out, the air thick between them. Slowly, she turned around and cracked open her bedroom door.
“Goodnight, Hermione,” she heard softly from behind her.
“Goodnight, Draco.”
Hermione looked back but he was already gone.
Notes:
A/N: Hi guys!!! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! We’re getting so close to some ~exciting~ things (whether they are completely in favor of our dear D & H, we shall see). Thank you for all the support and love, you have no idea how much it means to me. Do let me know what you think!!
Chapter 27: Chapter XXVI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it.”
— Yves Olade
Thunder boomed and rumbled, shaking the very heavens. Yet it was not enough to cover the crack of apparition resounding through the hall. Draco gritted his teeth, not making a sound as he hit the marbled floor on one knee, bracing himself with his opposite arm. Rainwater dripped off brow and onto his bruised knuckles as the storm raged on into the night.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s just me.” Draco straightened and stood to full height, his blond hair matted to his forehead. Lightning flashed briefly illuminating his shadowed face. Blaise’s eyes widened, his wand lowering a fraction before his eyes narrowed and he straightened his hold. Pansy kept her wand raised as well.
“How can we be sure?” Blaise said in a steely voice. “How did you get through the wards?”
Draco’s jaw ticked. He was already out of time. The more he waited, the more she was stuck there. “Wasn’t that difficult to rip through them, trust me.”
Blaise shifted in front of Pansy. “Even more reason — ”
“I don’t fucking have time for this,” he growled, stepping forward. The Zabinis stiffened. He exhaled shakily.“I need… your help.”
Blaise blinked in surprise, his wand lowering along with Pansy’s as she stepped forward.
“Draco what happened?” she asked slowly.
Draco’s fist tightened, his breathing growing harsh. He tried to push it away but he couldn’t suppress the rage and fear running through his veins.
His face crumpled. “They took her because I fucking left her.”
Blaise and Pansy shared a look. “Draco, if they have her — ”
Pansy was cut off by Draco falling to his knees. He tilted his head up at them, a dangerous and desperate look on his face. Rain continued to pelt violently, the clouds rumbling darkly as he knelt there like a repenting angel.
“Name your price,” he said hollowly.
Blaise shook his head, still in disbelief. “No price,” he responded with a concerned look. Pansy nodded in accordance. “But what exactly do you need?”
Draco’s eyes shut, his voice raw, “I need you to help me save Hermione.”
Draco startled from his sleep, sitting up and clutching his chest. His eyes screwed shut as he tried to get his bearings and recover from the memory of that night he had asked his friends to help him save Hermione. Draco blinked into the darkness, adjusting to the sparse moonlight from the threadbare curtain.
Once he felt more settled, he looked over at Scorpius curled next to him in deep sleep. Draco brushed his son’s sleeping face before grabbing his wand and making his way out the room. On instinct, his feet carried him through the shadows. Upon reaching her room, he placed his palm on the door and relaxed upon feeling her presence inside, her light snoring calming his senses. She was ok .
Quietly, as he had done the past few weeks, he drew his wand. The incantation slipped naturally from his lips. He did not flinch at the small cut he made on his finger nor when he drew a symbol on her door. Blood magic. But it was more than that. The symbol glowed silver and faded completely into the door as if it wasn’t there, but he could feel the magic spread and strengthen around her room. Draco relaxed. It was old magic, an ancient Malfoy protective ward that was the highest form of protection against anyone who sought to harm whom it was intended to protect. It was family magic.
***
Hermione took another sip of her tea, watching the Slytherins in the room as Pansy retold their mission with flourish. While Blaise and Theo looked impressed, Draco’s expression was stonier and stonier by the second. Luna on the other hand popped in with the odd question about the presence of leaflers , which were apparently leaf-like creatures, too small for the eye, attracted to merriment and caused confusion. Hermione had no interest interrupting Pansy given that she had already recalled the mission for her report to Kingsley and Moody.
As Pansy retold the moment when the Death Eater had hit her, Draco’s eyes flashed, a dark expression on his face when he searched her features for evidence.
“You didn’t tell me you got hurt.” The calm voice pulled her out of her reverie moments later as she felt the sofa dip by her side. She had not realized Pansy had finished her story time. When Hermione looked up, his face was anything but calm.
“Pansy healed it immediately,” she shrugged. “I had it handled.”
His eyes narrowed. “I know you’re capable of handling yourself, but — ” He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head, abandoning his thought.
Before Hermione could respond, her attention was called to Theodore Nott who tossed a silver metallic object at her. The metal was warm, etched with runes. She could sense the faint trace of magic on it.
“What is it?” she asked, turning it in her hands.
“See the button on the edge?” he said excitedly. With caution, she pressed the button. A sharp whiz sliced the air as a sleek blade slid out. “It’s goblin-wrought silver and has an interesting property of also being able to cut magical bonds, though we haven’t tested it extensively. Luna and I have been tinkering with it as well — it becomes invisible, except for the user, when you touch the rune for invisibility.”
“Oh and I’ve soaked it in bumbleberry juice — to repel the nifflers from taking it. They like shiny silver objects as you know. They even nicked my silver-wire earrings,” Luna said as she straightened her bottle-cap necklace. Hermione cast Theo a questioningly glance to which he simply shrugged.
True enough, Hermione grazed the rune that looked like a flipped three and a yolk-like sheen encased the blade — she could see the blade perfectly, but just like a Disillusionment charm, others could not.
“I — I’m not really sure why you’re giving this to me,” Hermione said, puzzled as she looked between Theo and Luna who were simply smiling at her.
“Draco picked it up in one of the rooms in the building where you had been held prisoner. He gave it to me and Luna to fix it up so you could have it.”
Hermione looked incredulously at the man sitting next to her, who, despite his nonchalant expression, was avoiding her gaze. “I just thought you should have another weapon on you, just in case.”
The room was silent for a moment — Hermione could feel the curious gazes on them and she shifted uncomfortably at the attention.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. He didn’t respond, but she noticed the slight relaxation of his shoulders at her acceptance. She smiled to herself knowing he was likely expecting a fight, but she knew he was right. It would be good to have another weapon on her — she was not so arrogant to think she wouldn’t need it. And also, it seemed to put Draco more at ease.
“How are the bombs going, Theo?” Blaise asked, finally breaking the silence. Hermione gave him a thankful look for taking away the attention to which he simply winked.
“Excellent! Luna and I should have them ready in the coming weeks. We’ve been working with George Weasley too on more creative weapons…” Hermione felt more relaxes as the conversation slipped into discussions about Theo and Luna’s latest work.
As Theo and Blaise continued their discussion, with Luna chiming in here and there (much to Hermione’s surprise, the Slytherins remained polite and indulged her) she felt the couch sink to her left.
“Where’d your broody bodyguard go?” Pansy smirked.
“He went to get Scorpius from his nap,” Hermione gave the witch a pointed look. “And he’s not my broody bodyguard.”
“Oh right — overbearing mother hen, yes?” She chuckled at Hermione’s scowl.
“You didn’t have to exaggerate when you were telling them how that Death Eater hit me, you know.”
“Granger! Are you accusing me of overplaying the fact that you indeed were slapped and left bleeding on the ground?” She sniffed indignantly. “Well I do admit that I was watching Draco’s reaction but I wasn’t exaggerating — maybe from your point of view it was nothing, but it was still frightening to me , Hermione,” she said so fiercely, Hermione was almost taken aback. “Besides, you could have told him first.”
She had a point, Hermione conceded. Pansy shot Hermione a self-satisfied look knowing she won.
“Speaking of telling people important things,” Pansy began, her eyes lighting up at the sight of a narrow-eyed Draco with a sleepy Scorpius in his arms entering the room, “when were you going to tell me about these muggle jean shorts ? That’s what they’re called, right? Really, Granger, you should have given all of us a warning for those legs and ass of yours,” Pansy said a little too loudly.
Hermione inwardly groaned at Pansy’s sparkling eyes as she tracked Draco suspiciously inching towards the throw blanket on the far side of the room.
***
The wind blew gently at the canopy of leaves up above, causing the late morning sunlight to dance on her face. Hermione felt at peace in the Cistrine forest despite being there for a scouting mission. The Order was currently in the middle of evacuating people in Hungary, which was the target of Voldemort’s recent attack. With no people to spare, she and Draco were tasked to scout for clues based on the lead she and Pansy had found.
Hermione looked over her shoulder at Draco’s pensive face. From his back, a little blond head popped up with wide eyes and waved his little fingers. Hermione grinned and waved back.
“You alright over there, Scorp?” she asked. The boy curiously gazed around at his surroundings from where he was strapped in on Draco’s back.
“The fowest …” he began, furrowing his brow, “... is very very e-nor-mous and - and has many gween lizards !”
“Good job!” Hermione clapped her hands at his use of new words. Scorpius grinned back at her.
They headed a little further, not much sound except for the chirp of a curious sparrow on the branch and Scorpius humming a tune he made up.
“The clearing should be up ahead…” Hermione murmured, glancing down at the map whilst pushing a branch out of the way.
She paused at the sound of giggling and a suppressed scoff. Twisting around, she met a pair of amused Malfoys. “Why are you two laughing?” she said, putting her hands on her hips dignifiedly.
“There is sticks in your hair, Mini!” Scorpius burst out in laughs, his face turning red. Draco cracked a smile.
“Nice of you to make a home for the birds, Granger,” Draco smirked. Scorpius giggled harder.
“Making fun of me both of you?” She tried to keep a straight face and pursed her lips before waving her wand and vanishing the twigs.
Draco chuckled. “A shame, what to do now about the homeless birds?”
“Perhaps your concern should be about a pair of two homeless Malfoys if you keep this up,” she retorted, turning up her nose. Scorpius and Draco shared a look.
“We are sowwy, Mini! We behave now!” Scorpius called out then narrowed his eyes on his father. “Right, daddy?”
Hermione raised a brow when Draco glanced at her.
“Fine,” he muttered, “we’ll behave.”
Hermione grinned triumphantly and turned. “Now,” she said, taking a few steps into the clearing. “how about some lunch?”
***
“Like this, Mini?” Scorpius looked up hopefully, holding his lopsided flower crown. The weather was cool and sunny in the forest and the little boy had, with a very Malfoy look, insisted she take a break from writing her update report on their scouting task.
“Yes that’s lovely, Scorp,” she said, caressing the crushed petals before tightening some of the knots. She smiled fondly — it was her mother that taught her to make flower crowns. They had done it together whenever she’d returned home upset because the children in school called her names, called her a freak when odd things happened around her. She didn’t understand it then, when her magic would cause the ribbons on her mean classmate’s hair to come undone or the books would open whenever she passed by.
There’s nothing wrong with you, love. Just ignore them. You can’t control the way others think or feel, but you can control how you let it affect you.
“I wan wear it, Mini!” Hermione grinned, placing the little crown of wildflowers on his pale head.
She snuck a look at Draco who had his brow furrowed in concentration as he nimbly slotted the stems with perfect precision. He had a solemn look on his face, the same since he chose narcissus flowers for his crown.
“Jealous, Granger?” he said in an amused voice, without looking up.
Hermione immediately schooled her features. “Your spacing is imprecise,” she mumbled. She ignored the shiver skitting up her arm when she grazed his fingers and tightened one of the knots.
“You’re just upset I caught on quickly,” his eyes lit with silent mirth. “You’ve always been a competitive little swot.”
He merely chuckled when she began rambling, calling him names under her breath as she tied the last knot on her crown of dahlias.
“What was that?”
“I said you’re still a pointy faced cockroach in need of a haircut — ”
Draco bristled at the mention of his hair and began to run his hands through them. In truth, Hermione thought his growing fringe gave him a tousled look that she thought made him look less of an upper class snob. Over the past few days, she had found herself distracted whenever she looked up in the mornings at him joining her in the library to write reports or research — his blond-white hair tousled as if he had just run his hands through it. It led Hermione to ridiculous thoughts about the physics of hair and how it was possible for him to pull off a lazy morning hair look while she spent a good forty minutes in the morning taming her morning locks. She grumbled again.
***
“ What are you doing! ” Hermione gasped. She had just returned from refilling her bottle by the stream when she caught sight of Draco Malfoy on a rock with a transfigured pair of scissors, a hand mirror, and a few white-blond locks littered on the ground while Scorpius played with a few dandelions a couple of feet away.
“I’m sure your oversized brain can figure it out,” he responded stoically, cheeks heating as he turned back to the mirror. Before he could even lift the scissors to his hair again, they were snatched by a small but strong hand. Draco looked up, only to be met with fierce determined brown eyes.
The witch lifted her chin and conjured a chair in front of her. “Well,” she said, gesturing to the chair.
Draco looked at her incredulously. “Granger, if you think I will let you near my neck with a pair of scissors — ”
“Malfoy! Keep butchering your hair like that and you’ll be overtaking Dolores Umbridge with most horrible haircut — ”
Draco sputtered. “I do not — ”
“Well then be quiet and let me get to work!”
He glared at her, but obediently deposited himself on the chair in front of her. He hadn’t gotten far anyways, only snipping a lock here and there — he was too cautious about taking any from the back.
The witch looked at his hair like an arithmetic equation she was trying to deconstruct. He felt uneasy. “Are you sure you know how — ”
“I’ll have you know, I cut Harry and Ron’s hair while on the run — ”
“And look how their hair turned out,” he scoffed. “This is fine Malfoy hair, Granger. It’s nothing like that messy nest of hair Potter sported or that dehydrated pile of hay the Weasel — Granger !” he yelped when she took a large snip of his hair.
“Oops,” she pouted, not looking at all sorry. “I’m going to start properly now, Draco, so I would suggest not making any comments lest you want to lose all this fine Malfoy hair .”
Draco merely glowered at her as she began. As Hermione made careful cuts, the atmosphere simmered into a tranquil silence except for the swift hiss of the scissors and Scorpius humming to himself. As she worked, he stole the opportunity to watch the way her brows creased in concentration. Her touch was gentle in contrast to her earlier ministrations. She ran her fingers along his scalp and he barely suppressed a deep groan when she gently tugged his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look up and bare his neck to her.
His eyes immediately fluttered shut when her body pressed closer. Without looking, he knew his knuckles were white from where they were gripping the chair’s arms. All shutting his eyes did was heighten the smell of parchment, embers, and something floral, her smell.
“All done,” she whispered. With agonizing restraint, Draco straightened. He opened his eyes, which on their own accord sought hers. She was looking down, dusting stray strands that fell on her muggle jeans, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.
“Well?” she prompted when he remained silent. His gaze shifted to his reflection as he lifted the hand mirror from his lap to his face.
“Not bad,” he murmured, running his hands through his hair. It was trimmed neatly but not too short, making his features more prominent. “I would dare to say it surpasses Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair, don’t you agree?”
He looked at her, seeking her eyes, but she continued to avoid his gaze.
“Not even close,” she sniffed playfully, heading over to Scorpius, not before he caught a smile on her lips.
***
The storm raged on like an angry beast, howling and wailing desperately. They had settled into their tent just as the storm hit. The tent wasn’t large, but it was magically charmed to withstand the weather. It was tall enough for Hermione to barely stand upright in and wide enough such that they were not too cramped even with their unpacked bags.
For the last hour, Hermione had been writing notes in her journal about the observations they made, cross-checking anything from the books they could find, which was sparse at best. She sighed in frustration.
Suddenly, a violent crackle boomed through the forest, startling her along with a boy’s scream. Hermione instantly drew her wand, casting a lumos when their lamp went out.
“Shh, Scorp,” Hermione relaxed upon seeing Scorpius buried in Draco’s chest. Draco glanced up at her and nodded, continuing to murmur soothingly in his son’s ear. “It’s just thunder.”
Hermione’s heart broke when the boy continued sobbing and shaking. “But - but no, daddy! The bad people! They coming!”
Hermione blinked, realizing he wasn’t merely scared of the booming sound, but the fact that it was similar to a crack of apparition like that of Death Eaters.
“It’s alright, Scorp,” Hermione tentatively came closer. “It’s just a thunderstorm.”
She stroked his back and he twisted his head at her, eyes red from crying. “I’m scared, Mini,” he said hoarsely, “I’m not brave.”
Draco stilled, a pained look on his face.
Hermione’s eyes stung. Gently, she brushed away his tears. “Being brave doesn’t mean you are never get scared,” she gave him a smile, “it means that especially when you are scared, you still face your fears.”
Unconsciously, her eyes sought Draco’s. Their eyes met, a thousand words swirling in that single moment in between the pale glow of her wandlight and the raging storm around them.
Draco blinked, looking back at Scorpius who had slightly calmed but was still shaking. “Perhaps it’s time for bed.”
“Of course,” Hermione’s cheeks heated and she moved back from them. “I’ll let you guys settle in.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched them cross the space and settle into their sleeping bags as she unfurled her own on the other side of the tent a couple feet away.
“Mini!” Scorpius yelled when another peal of thunder sounded. Hermione whirled around, finding Draco in their sleeping bag with Scorpius tucked next to him. Scorpius was cupping his ears, his face distressed as he looked at her pleadingly. “Pwease sleep beside me too.”
Hermione hesitated. “If it’s alright with your father…”
Draco uncomfortably nodded but remained silent, his focus on Scorpius. Silently, Hermione moved her roll next to theirs so she was settled with Scorpius in between her and Draco. Scorpius frowned at the distance between them still. Keeping one hand covering his ear, he tugged at her sleeve. Shakily, Hermione snuggled closer.
Hermione cautiously watched Draco lay down fully before following suit. “Get some sleep now, Scorp,” he said to his son soothingly. “Hermione and I will be here.”
Scorpius seemed to find comfort in his words and relaxed. Hermione dimmed her wandlight but kept enough to still make out their faint features.
Thunder struck again and Scorpius whimpered. Both Hermione and Draco pressed closer to him.
“How about a story hmm?” Hermione murmured, stroking his hair with her fingertips. Scorpius nodded his head slowly. Hermione smiled. “Above, up and up in the clouds there was a family of giants…”
Scorpius, still glassy eyed, blinked at her curiously.
“... one day the little giant and his friends started bowling in the clouds!” Hermione chuckled at Draco and Scorpius’ confused faces. “It's a game they play with sky rocks that they would throw to hit as many pins as they can! And it would make a booming sound.” Just as she said the words, another peal of thunder rumbled. “Just like that. And so they say, when you hear that, it's just the giants playing in the sky…”
Hermione continued her story as Scorpius began to blink sleepily. Finally she paused, seeing him fast asleep. She chanced a glance at Draco, who had a pensive look on his face while he absentmindedly stroked Scorpius’ hair.
“I’m surprised he fell asleep that quickly,” Hermione murmured quietly, wiping the tear tracks off the sleeping boy’s face.
“He feels safe.” It was so quiet, she thought she imagined it. This time when she looked up again, gray eyes looked back at her intensely. With Scorpius just between them, she was close enough to notice the sparse strands of ice-blue in his eyes, the soft curl of his lashes, and a slight sliver of a scar on the bridge of his nose.
Hermione averted her gaze, trying to get comfortable. The storm was calmer now — the only sound was the soft patter of rain striking gently against the tent. She looked up once more about to bid Draco goodnight but paused when she found him asleep.
***
Hermione woke up to warmth wrapped all around her and a smaller warmth curled into her chest. It called to her deep in her weary bones like a long lost traveler. It felt like home. She cracked her eyes open to find two pale blond heads, the smaller pressed against her chest and the other, also still asleep just a breath away from her face. A large arm was curled around her and the little boy, caccooning them.
Draco’s face was calm, the worry and tension in his face smoothed, making him look younger, relaxed. Hermione breathed in the early morning air, feeling the forest slowly awaken and cherishing the rhythmic breathing on her chest and warmth pulling her closer as if she belonged there.
She should pull away, she knew. She couldn’t pretend. But she was too weak. She let herself surrender just for a moment, tentatively leaning into them. Draco’s arms instinctively tightened around her, pulling her even closer. She let herself believe it was real for a moment longer before she gave in to sleep once more.
***
“Are you sure you don’t want a break, Scorp?” Hermione chuckled silently, watching the little boy who insisted he was a “big boy” and could walk on his own, huffing and puffing. He had an obviously tired but determined look on his face as he tried to continue walking up the trail of a small hill. They were on their way to a location to collect some samples of a specific flower. From her research, it seemed that these tiny red blossoms called blood diamonds bloomed where this magical snake went. She hoped it was the same snake Voldemort was looking for.
“Am ok, Mini,” Scorpius huffed, his face red as he breathed heavily.
Draco and Hermione shared a look. Draco knelt beside him. “It’s okay to admit you’re tired, you know.”
“I am strong boy!” Scorpius gasped, pushing himself further on shaky legs.
Hermione giggled and sat on the ground. She held his shoulders when he tried to get past her. “Being strong is not just about physical strength,” Hermione put her hand on his rapidly beating heart, “it’s also in here .”
Scorpius blinked at her and stared at his chest.
“Well, I’m tired. So maybe a little break?” she said sweetly, brushing his damp locks.
“Okay, Mini,” Scorpius finally conceded, plopping on her lap and exhaling strongly as he leaned back on her. Hermione wiped his sweaty brow.
“You should take some of your own advice on getting more rest, Granger,” Draco mumbled in good humor, summoning drinks and sandwiches from their bag.
“Probably,” Hermione sighed.
Draco lifted a surprise brow. “Was that agreement I heard?”
“Don’t get used to it, Malfoy.”
Draco smirked.
Halfway through their snack, Hermione whipped her wand out when Draco startled and lunged from his spot. Hermione lowered her wand, trying to stifle her laugh. “Draco, it's just a hungry niffler.”
Draco scowled at her before turning back to the overweight niffler, his wand raised threateningly at the poor thing finishing off his sandwich.
Scorpius giggled. “Is niffler! Like in my book!”
“Don’t you dare hurt it, Draco,” Hermione warned.
Draco narrowed his eyes at her but lowered his wand. He muttered under his breath and slowly inched away from the creature.
“Hello, Mr. Niffler!” Scorpius waved, tossing the last portion of his sandwich at the hungry animal. The creature crooned before gobbling the offered piece. After swallowing the last bite, it tentatively approached them, its dark coat shining and eyes gleaming like black pearls.
“Granger…” Draco inched towards them with his wand raising.
“It’s alright, Draco,” Hermione laughed as the niffler came closer.
“Is alright, daddy,” Scorpius repeated. The niffler cocked its head at them, before turning around and scurrying back into the forest.
Draco sighed. “Bless Salazar…. What — ”
Draco was cut off when the niffler returned with a tinier niffler on its back. Gently, it lay the baby niffler before them.
Hermione gasped. “The baby niffler has a broken arm!”
“Oh no!” Scorpius cried. “Can we fix him, Mini?”
Tears welled up in Scorpius’ eyes when the baby niffler whimpered. Draco knelt beside them. “I have a spell in mind,” he murmured, tentatively examining the arm with surprising gentleness. Draco whispered a spell and waved his wand, and the arm snapped into place.
“Oh!” Scorpius tensed. “Is the baby niffler okay?”
“Yes he is,” Hermione smiled at Draco. Seemingly hesitant, he briefly smiled back at her.
Scorpius cheered, scooting off her lap and reaching over to pat the baby niffler’s head gently. He giggled when the larger niffler rubbed its head on his arm.
***
“Mini, it’s bedtime!” Scorpius called out from the bed roll he shared with Draco.
“Oh just one minute,” Hermione said pleadingly, writing a few more words on the flower samples they collected.
“ Mini! Too much work!” Scorpius responded impatiently. Hermione guiltily looked over at the two Malfoy’s watching her. Draco’s lips lifted in a relaxed half-smile.
“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, putting away her work.
Scorpius clapped and excitedly tucked himself under his blankets and patted his other side.
“Mini?” Scorpius asked once they were snuggled in and she dimmed her wandlight.
“Yes?” she asked. It was a calm night, only the sound of crickets and the nightingale singing.
“You promise to stay?” Hermione’s brows pinched in confusion, not knowing what he really meant. “This means you stay?”
Round soft silver eyes looked at her hopefully.
Before she could answer, Draco’s tired voice sounded from across Scorpius’ head. “It’s time for bed, Scorpius. No more questions now.”
“Ok, daddy,” the boy yawned. “Goodnight, Mini,” Scorpius looked at her with a contented smile.
“Goodnight, Scorpius,” Hermione replied, brushing his cheek.
“Wait!” the little boy called out just as she was about to pull back.
“Yes?” she smiled.
“Can Mini give goodnight kiss?” he said, batting his pale lashes.
“Scorpius — ” Draco began.
“It’s alright,” Hermione murmured quietly.
Draco watched, frozen, as the witch leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on his son’s forehead. When she pulled back, he immediately looked away, clearing his throat.
“Goodnight, daddy,” his son’s sleepy voice brought him out of his thoughts.
“Goodnight, Scorp,” Draco murmured, pressing his lips to his son’s forehead as well.
A couple hours later, Draco blinked awake. It was dark except for a sliver of moonlight from the slit of the tent. He felt restless. He had been dreaming again, of hands running through his hair, dark intelligent eyes, and the warmth of a soft body underneath his palms. The smell of parchment, embers, and flowers lingered in his senses.
Draco froze, his chest constricting in panic when he noticed the place on the other side of Scorpius empty. She was gone.
Quickly, he stood, walking over to the exit of the tent and opening it. The cool night air washed over him and he relaxed upon seeing the silhouette of a bushy-haired witch a few feet away, sitting on the grass, hands around her knees.
He took a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of pine and cool air that hinted of approaching rain. Before he could understand what he was doing, he found himself walking to the moonlit patch of grass where she sat.
“Can’t sleep?” she softly called out to him without turning her head. Pixies and fireflies danced just beyond her like dancing stars against the shadowed trees.
Draco hesitated for a moment before deciding to take a seat next to her. From the corner of his eye, he took note of the way her arms tightened around her knees and the far look in her eyes.
“What’s on your mind?” he said carefully. She got like this sometimes — he would notice it when she would occasionally stop reading her report and stare sadly into the distance. Or some days when she would be quiet during lunch, nodding and forcing a smile. But he never pried, always letting her have her space. Because he knew that look — had seen that same dulled and despondent expression reflected back in the mirror too many times.
“I — I could have saved him,” she said after a while, her breathing ragged. “Harry. I could have fucking saved him.”
“Hermione — ”
“I knew , Draco!” Her voice cracked. It all came back so fast. Being in the tent reminded her of when it was just her and Harry on the run after Ron left them. “Ever since I learned what Horcruxs were, I fucking knew he was one. I suspected it and I didn’t tell him or try to stop him harder when he walked into the woods alone. If I had just — had just — ”
Hermione choked on a sob. She gasped when two strong arms wrapped around her. Instinctively, she buried her face into his neck. She felt as if her chest was cracked open, felt as if a chasm was opening up deep in her soul as every regret and feeling of guilt poured out of her. She could have saved him, she could have saved him .
“He was — he was connected to the Dark Lord,” she hiccuped, “I tried to look for other reasons, but I knew deep down that the Dark Lord’s soul was in him. I didn’t say anything because I wished I was wrong but mostly because — mostly because I was afraid to acknowledge the truth. We could’ve spent more time figuring out another way, another loophole, and avoided Dumbledore’s oversight,” she sobbed.
Draco remained silent, gently rubbing circles on her back as everything poured out of her.
“I’ve always been the brains — I didn’t have friends in the beginning, even before Hogwarts. They — they only started becoming friends with me because of my mind, my intellect. I was the brains, I was supposed to be the one to figure things out but I failed, I fucking failed — I didn’t — I couldn’t — ”
“You couldn’t have done anything.”
“Draco — ”
“ No ,” he said firmly, pulling back. He framed her face with his hands. “ No . You couldn't have been sure and even if you were, do you think Potter would not have still followed Dumbledore’s plan?”
She simply blinked back, trying to process his words.
“You were a child, Hermione. We all were. We were children playing in a much larger game — a game that had been going on long before we were even born with pieces put into place as we blindly tried to figure out right from wrong. Tell me, even if you knew he was a Horcrux would you have known what to do? Did you know he was going to be killed and used as a vessel?”
“I — I could have figured something out, I could have — ”
“ Maybe . Maybe, you could have,” he forced her gaze to meet his. “Maybe I could have turned to Dumbledore immediately when they tasked me with fixing the cabinet, maybe Dumbledore could have told Harry all those years ago so he could prepare himself better, maybe Harry should not have sacrificed himself. In retrospect there are many things we could have done differently. And even if you wont listen to me when I say it wasn’t your fault , listen to me when I say that the whole war does not rest entirely on Hermione Granger’s shoulders. If blood prejudice didn’t exist there wouldn’t be so much hate, so much misunderstanding to even cause a war. Maybe there wouldn't be a Dark Lord if he hadn’t been abandoned by his family and born in a muggle orphanage. The war does not rest on your shoulders,” he whispered harshly, his thumb brushing a stray tear.
“You can choose,” he rasped, his eyes intent and steadying as he looked at her, “to hold yourself down, to blame yourself for everything you didn’t do or become. Or you can choose to accept it — all of it; the terrible things you’ve done, the darkest part of yourself that you try to run from, and forgive yourself. To do better.”
They stared at each other for a moment, nothing but the sound of crickets and the wind rustling distantly. Despite the night chill and the cold trail of drying tears on her cheeks, she felt warm. She felt emptied of the things weighing in her chest. For the first time in a while, she felt light. There was an understanding in his eyes — no pity, no judgment, just the eyes of another who had seen the void and come out of it not unscathed.
After a moment, she smiled softly. “You’ve changed you know.”
Draco’s brows furrowed.
“From when we were kids, from when you first showed up at the safehouse with that arrogant look of yours,” her lips twisted fondly before her face became more serious. “I’ve seen you,” she swallowed. “I’ve seen you try your best to break away from your past, to be a better man for yourself and Scorpius. I’ve seen you trying to atone for everything you’ve done and I — I’m so proud of you, Draco,” she said breathlessly.
His eyes shuttered, lips parting. She would have thought she said the wrong thing had she not felt the faint quiver of his fingertips as held her face a little tighter.
“Thank you,” he said faintly, finally opening his eyes, a dark, deep emotion burning in them.
Hermione’s eyes dipped to his parted lips and, as if pulled by some force, felt herself leaning forward. The moment her lips touched his she gasped and pulled out of his slackened grip, eyes wide as she stared back at Draco’s startled face.
Before she could berate herself, his eyes darkened and narrowed at her. She heard a soft fuck before he surged forward, capturing her lips hungrily. One hand slid around her waist pulling her flush against him while the other gripped her hair to hold her in place. She let out a soft whimper when he bit her lip, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. A groan, deep and almost desperate, rumbled in his chest under her fingertips. She felt on fire, her pulse hammering in her veins as he continued to invade her senses. His lips were softer and warmer than she imagined. When his tongue grazed the roof of her mouth she couldn’t stop herself from melting further into him. He kissed her like a man starved, his hold on her tight as if he would never let her go.
Draco slowed down, taking his time as if he was savoring every touch, every taste. His fringe grazed her cheek when he pulled his lips back slightly, eyes shutting before he pressed his forehead against hers. Their breathing was ragged as they stayed there for a moment, his thumbs brushing her cheek. Too soon, he pulled back, blinking slowly. The burning intent in them made her stomach flutter.
“Look at me,” he whispered, eyes searching hers, “please.”
Draco swallowed when she finally looked him in the eyes. He memorized the wild flush on her cheeks, her swollen lips, and her wide glassy eyes.
“If — if you don’t want this,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers and inhaling deeply. “If you want me to stop, let me know now.” She remained silent as he pressed a soft kiss on her nose, on each of her cheeks, then briefly her lips. “Hermione,” he said darkly, “I need you to tell me. Or else there’s no going back.”
Draco felt his chest constrict when she remained silent.
“I do,” she finally answered shakily, “I — I want this, Draco.”
Draco’s heart stuttered as she slowly leaned forward and brushed her lips softly against his. Time slowed, and Draco prayed to those gods he never believed in: if miracles could exist, let it be this, let it be this.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh!!! We finally got to the first kiss!!!!! But does this mean everything is gonna go well for them? *evil laughter* I hope you guys enjoyed it and the last line is adapted from one of my poems, which I’ll post in the next chapter if you’re interested!
Btw the next chapter might be delayed a bit because I have a deadline for real life stuff coming up soon. But hopefully I’ll get the next chapter in the weekend after. Love you all!!!
Chapter 28: Chapter XXVII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“She stood before him like some miracle.
And he couldn't help but pray to that god
he never believed in —
If miracles could exist,
Let it be this.
Let it be this.”
— B. L. Cortez
Click .
Scorpius and Hermione looked up at the sound of a camera shutter only to be met with the face of Draco Malfoy, eyes narrowed and cursing as he fumbled with his muggle cellphone.
“Everything alright?”
“There’s something wrong with this ridiculous muggle contraption,” Draco grumbled, pulling the flip phone close to his face and jabbing the keys with his pointer finger a touch too violently.
Hermione shared a look with Scorpius before scooting closer to Draco and peering over his shoulder.
“Is that — ” Hermione broke off with a bark of laughter and snatched the phone from his hands. On the screen was a blurry picture of her and Scorpius. She deftly flipped through the phone finding more blurry pictures of Scorpius’ face up close and her bushy hair in the corner. There was even a shaky video of her and Scorpius playing accompanied by a voice cursing in the background followed by the camera turning around to show Draco’s suspicious face glaring into the lens.
“Have you been practicing your photography skills?” she teased. Draco scowled at her.
“It was an accident. The stupid device has a mind of it’s own, Granger,” he muttered. “I reckon it's cursed.”
“Right. And this cursed device just happened to make its wallpaper a blurry picture of me and Scorpius,” she said, grinning despite his icy glare.
“Like I said,” he gritted out, “this thing has a mind of its own.”
“Well you wouldn’t mind then if I remove the wallpaper?”
Before she could even move her finger, the phone was snatched out of her hand. She looked at him, gaping. “I won’t have you tamper with it, Granger — it might worsen the contraption even more. It's already gone temperamental and doesn’t need you playing around with it,” he sniffed.
“Fine,” she chuckled. Feeling an impulsive rush, she leaned forward and kissed the corner of his lips. She smiled to herself as she left the room with Scorpius to get a snack, Draco’s still scowling face and warm flush on his cheeks seared into her mind.
***
Hermione coughed into the sleeve of her cloak as the smoke caught in her lungs. It felt like she was inhaling crushed glass. She kept her wand raised, navigating through the crossfire of spells. They knew it wasn’t going to be an easy rescue mission. It was one of their riskiest attempts trying to save thirty Order members. But they had no choice — they were down on too many people.
“Where’s Dean’s group?” Hermione asked an exhausted looking Parvati as they stood shoulder to shoulder, using a stone wall for coverage.
“They should be heading into the prison now.” Both witches shot out spells as the chaos of the battle rang out. Hermione hissed when an acid hex grazed her shoulder. She wordlessly waved away Parvati’s concerned gaze, assuring her that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.
“If he doesn’t send out the signal to call on the houselves in ten minutes, we need to get out. We can’t hold the Death Eaters off. Find a way to spread the message.” Parvati sharply nodded and they split.
As Hermione fought, she caught a flash of red hair. Ginny . Hermione’s lips straightened into a grim line. At least Parvati and the rest of the Gryffindors were civil with her, but Ginny had ignored her since the incident with the Slytherins. She even snubbed her on the mission even if they were both team leads.
Hermione jumped back from a purple spell coming her way, not realizing it in her distraction. Just in time, a shield blocked off another spell headed her way.
“Distracted?” Draco grunted just before dropping the spell and harshly slashing his wand downwards, sending a deep cut through the Death Eater.
Briefly, Draco quickly assessed her, his eyes zeroing on the acid burn on her bicep. He blinked when she erected a shield in front of him. “Distracted?” she lifted a brow.
He muttered something under his breath before waving his wand quickly to bind her shoulder. She nodded in thanks before they were forced back to back as Death Eaters surrounded them. She could tell they were new recruits by the lack of force in their spells. Spells were about intention . Even with perfect wand work and enunciation, it was intent that determined the force and nature of the spell. Every spell had a signature and an underlying force that stemmed from the intent to create, to heal. But also to hurt, to maim. To kill.
“We can’t hold them off,” Draco shot spell after spell, curses of dark magic that even Hermione had difficulty recognising.
“I gave Dean ten minutes.” Hermione let her instincts take over, letting her magic entwine with Draco’s as they wove around each other in tandem, taking each Death Eater down. His magic fuelled hers, their spells dancing together like darkness and starlight, shadows and flame.
“ Now! ” Draco growled. Hermione ducked as Draco spun and blue fire roared from the tip of his wand, burning their attackers in his path as she shielded his back.
“The signal!” A golden phoenix illuminated the dark sky. Hermione sighed in relief. “They got the prisoners out.”
Hermione let herself relax into the arm that wound around her as they apparated away.
***
Draco hissed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even dab it that hard.”
Draco glared at her pointedly, raising a brow.
“Ok maybe a little ,” she conceded, “but I need to make sure it’s clean. If you weren’t so sensitive…” She bent down again to continue cleaning his chest wounds from where he sat on the infirmary cot. She was grateful for some privacy with the closed off curtains and continued disinfecting his wounds. Hermione tried to leash her curiosity, controlling her gaze to stay focused instead of roaming his naked torso marred with silver scars.
“Some healer you are, Granger,” he muttered under his breath. He watched her distractedly from underneath pale lashes as she peered closer at the gash on his pectoral. She hummed in response before closing up the last wound with a stitch.
“I’m sure you’ll feel better,” she blinked up at him and straightened. Perhaps it was the proximity, the adrenaline rushing through her, but she boldly settled herself on his lap. She blushed as she adjusted herself then stopped when firm arms gripped her hips, halting her movement.
She looked up at him. Under the warm lamp light, his hair was a pale gold like the soft early dawn. His face up close held a quiet tenderness to it as he wordlessly watched her back. Draco dipped his head closer. The thumb on her hip rubbed circles into her skin and she felt him relax and lean into her as if pulled by an invisible string.
“You look like your mother.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized it. She almost panicked when he flinched but he continued to hold her tightly.
“Thank you,” he finally responded. “I usually get comments that I look like my father.” Draco had a far away look, brows pinched as if he was struggling with an internal war. Hermione waited patiently.
“Lucius in his earlier years wasn’t a terrible father. My mother on the other hand was quite the rebel,” his lips quirked into a fond smile “She would do things like let me run barefoot with her in the halls, have her hair undone and wild. We jumped in the fountain once. My father tried to be strict but he knew what we were up to and pretended not to notice. But as I got older he became more… serious. He loved my mother but more pressure fell upon him. It was also more difficult for my mother to persuade him to relax his rules, but she also knew the pressure. Perhaps that’s why growing up she took the liberty to break the rules a little when she could.”
“She sounds like a wonderful mother,” Hermione placed her hand on his cheek. He finally looked at her. She thought she felt him leaning into her touch. “And I can see her in you, and in the way you raise Scorpius,” she said quietly, unsure if she was intruding too much. It was so fragile this thing between them, still some hesitancy. But there was no hesitancy in the way he crashed his lips into hers. His lips were sure and demanding. Her mouth parted for him. His tongue was searching, exploring, tasting — as if he could not get enough.
“Hello!”
Hermione gasped and pulled away, her head snapping to Luna entering through the curtains and blinking at them with her large, thick-rimmed glasses. Hermione turned in Draco’s lap to face the witch and tried to get up, but large hands kept her in place.
Draco hissed in her ear. “Give me a second,” he said in a rough voice, only for her to hear.
Hermione’s cheeks burned. “Uhm, hi, Luna.”
Bug-eyed and bewildered, Luna twirled her bottle cap necklace and cocked her head at them. “Quite the strong fertile energy in here,” Draco coughed. “Sexual energy looks good on you Hermione. Brings out your eyes.”
Hermione shifted, embarrassed, but Draco’s hands tightened around her hips almost bruisingly to keep her still.
“Thank you, Luna,” Hermione tried to say levelly, but it came out more like a squeak. She felt like she was burning inside out. It took all her self control to stay still on Draco’s lap.
“I was just going to check on you, but it looks like you’re both quite rejuvenated. I’ll leave now.”
Without waiting for their joint choked farewell, Luna left. Hermione sagged in relief, biting her lip. Even in the middle of a war and barely coming out alive out of a mission, she had the strong urge to laugh. And she did.
Seconds later, Draco’s arms wrap around her stomach. His head fell on her shoulder and she knew she wasn’t imagining his smile against her skin.
***
Over the days that passed, Draco Malfoy began to suspect that his own son, Scorpius Malfoy, was out to sabotage him.
Draco and Hermione had managed to keep any intimate moments between themselves — in stolen kisses when Scorpius was playing, his lips on her shoulder the moment they got home from missions, and his hand entwining with hers underneath the Order meeting table when Ginny shot her hard looks across the room. Something had awakened in him, making him feel uncontrolled by an ache, a feverish desire for her — something he had long denied himself. And when she rambled when she got frustrated by another dead end to her research, he found that his favorite way to shut her up was to snog her senseless until she was breathless and spoke incoherently about snakes and Roslind’s theory of alchemical deconstruction. Ever since Draco had had a taste of her, he memorized her every reaction. He committed to memory the sound of her gasp escaping her swollen lips when he brushed his mouth on that spot beneath her ear. And every day, as the weather continued to keep up the heat, he cursed Hermione Granger and her muggle jean shorts that threatened years of pureblood etiquette and breeding.
All these moments, he thought, eluded the little boy. But he began to notice that when he tried to spend more time with Hermione, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy employed every weapon in his arsenal to steal Hermione's attention away from his own father.
Just the other night when Draco approached her and Scorpius sketching on the kitchen table, the boy coincidentally stubbed his finger on the table, wailing in pain until Hermione picked him up. Hermione consoled him and his tearless sobs turned into sniffles. With her back to him and Scorpius’ head on her shoulder Draco swore he saw the little tyke smirk with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he held onto the witch tighter. This had gone on whenever Draco got the witch’s attention — Scorpius would get a little “owie” or want to show her something. Draco had even made a comment that the boy was being quite sensitive lately, but Hermione simply responded that it must run in the Malfoy family since she remembered another pale headed boy pouting over a little scrape from a hippogriff. Draco merely huffed.
Even now, she still remained oblivious to the ongoing sabotage attempts from his son. Luckily, Scorpius was down for a nap and he finally had her to himself in the library. In comfortable silence, they flipped through more and more reports and books based on the samples they had gathered from the forest. Yet, Draco’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the pale blue bruise marked on her neck. He swallowed as a recent memory flooded forward.
“What did Mclaggen want?”
Hermione raised a single brow as she walked out of the meeting room, just moments after Mclaggen had with an obnoxious smile on his face. It was just after sunset, the hallway empty and cast in lazy shadows. The voices of Order members from below were subdued.
“Just wanted to see how I was doing — he heard from Parvati I got injured during the last group mission,” she said with an amused look as she approached him. “Why, Malfoy? Jealous?”
Draco blinked slowly, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. “Yes.”
His response seemed to stun her as evident in the way she blinked rapidly back at him.
“Well,” she said after a moment, boldly walking up to him and placing her hands on his chest, “like I told Mclaggen multiple times in between his stories about himself, I’m not interested in him.” She lifted her chin and cocked her head. Draco’s hands unfurled from where they were crossed, automatically grabbing her hips and pulling her flush against him.
He made himself stay still, keeping his features controlled even as she ducked her head and leaned forward. His fingers dug into her flesh the moment he felt her warm breath on his neck. A desperate, foreign hunger burned inside of him.
“Besides, I’m not an object to be fought over by you or McLaggen, Draco,” she whispered against his neck, a slight bite in her words and a hint of amusement.
He chuckled. His hand cupped her chin firmly and turned her head upwards to meet his eyes. “I’m not jealous out of some male possessiveness. You are not an object to be owned by anyone,” he searched her eyes. “I’m jealous that he can walk up to you in front of all these people without being met by angry glares. I’m jealous that you can be free to be seen with him without being tainted by the image of an ex-Death Eater. If he were to do this,” he pressed his lips to her cheek, “this,” - the other cheek - “this,” - her nose - “and this,” finally, her lips, “he wouldn’t be stupefied and you wouldn’t have whispers following you around nor your friends ignoring you because of your association with him.”
“Draco…” He shuddered, committing the sound of his name on her lips to memory. She called out his name as if it belonged to her, and her alone. He bottled the sound as if it were the last time he would hear it.
Draco cut her off her train of thought with a kiss.
She pulled back and watched him a moment longer before pressing her lips to his and taking control of the kiss. He suppressed a groan when she pressed her body against his and took what she wanted from him as if he would not give it already. It terrified him how much he couldn’t help himself. But no matter how much we wanted to go further, no matter how much his blood burned every time he touched her, his occlumency walls rattled when things got too fast — a sick feeling spreading. He couldn’t, he couldn’t — not yet . There were some wounds that had not healed and he was not yet ready, no matter how much he wanted to be.
“Draco?” Draco was brought out of his reverie by her voice. “Are you alright? You look a little peaky.”
Hermione’s brows furrowed as she assessed him from across the room, half buried in books and parchment.
“I’m fine — just a little tired,” he responded, clearing his throat.
“Same,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “There’s no information at all on the creatures that live in the Cistrine forest. I mean it's known for being undiscovered — it's home to the oldest fairy colonies for instance and magical creatures that not many wizards have even heard of. Every account from textbook passages to journal entries holds varying accounts. The forest has natural wards, many of which are used to repel strangers and when we were there, nothing seemed out of the ordinary,” she sighed.
It wasn’t often that books failed Hermione. Even though not all of the texts were useful or factual, they often left breadcrumbs of information to find. She would follow the traces left, unraveling the web of information and ideas built on top of and against each other. But lately it had all led to dead ends. She had not found even a single mention about how magical snakes related to souls.
“It’s killing me not making progress.” Hermione looked up when a shadow loomed over her. A slender hand offered itself to her. She looked at Draco’s face — a flicker of conflict and hesitancy in them hidden by a stony mask that she was used to seeing. He was always like this when he initiated something — so unsure. She took his hand, letting him help her up.
“I miss exams, lessons, homework, and — and Hogwarts,” she mumbled, letting herself sink into his warmth. She inhaled his scent deeply and it settled her nerves. “You know what they say: you never know how valuable something is until it's gone.”
His hands paused from idly stroking her hair. “Yes, but I think what’s worse is already knowing the value of something, knowing what is right infront you while simultaneously knowing that it will be gone — that there is nothing you can do. And every day you’re waiting for it to be taken from you.” His voice had a hollow quality to it and a detached kind of coldness.
A heavy weight settled in her stomach as his words rang in her ears. She wondered if he was speaking of the present or the past, if he was talking about now and whatever they had or perhaps someone else of a different time. She tried to ignore the fact that he always stopped them before things went too far. When she would let her fingers trail down his chest he would stop her wandering hands. Or when she pressed herself against him, feeling his reaction against her thigh and he would go rigid and pull away. At first she thought that perhaps he didn’t want her in that way. But, she saw the conflicted look in his eyes, the way his face shuttered the same way it did when he woke from a nightmare — the look of someone haunted by his past. She couldn’t stop the dark voice in the back of her mind telling her that perhaps he wasn’t over his dead wife.
***
“Hi.”
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, halfway out the front door of the safehouse having felt a presence on the perimeter through the wards. She stood there, unable to breath at the sight of shaggy hair, freckles, and clear blue eyes.
Ronald Weasley.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked, as did something in her chest at the sight of her best friend. Her best friend, with whom she laughed with, grew up with. Her best friend who abandoned her. Left her.
“Mione… ”
Her heart clenched.
“I said: what the fuck are you doing here?” she seethed. She had heard nothing from him over the years. His parting words about how she had given up on Harry and the accusations he had hurled at had haunted her again and again in every nightmare she had since he left.
“I’m back — ”
“What’s going on?” a cold voice from behind Hermione asked. She didn’t even notice her body slightly relax when Draco stepped closer to her, as she kept her eyes on the red-head in front of her.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Ron spat, his features immediately contorting in barely suppressed rage.
Draco’s jaw ticked and he stepped forward, but she beat him to it. Hermione stood in front of him although it barely did anything to cover his tall form.
“He’s with me,” Hermione answered. A range of emotions passed over Ron’s features as he tried to decipher the levels of meaning behind her statement — only now taking a more careful look at her protective stance and the proximity to which Draco stood behind her.
“I want to talk,” he said carefully, as if really seeing her for the first time. He searched her eyes, “Mione, please .”
Perhaps it was the familiar way he said her nickname or the twinkle in his eyes that reminded her of the first time she saw him after that summer break in fourth year, but she felt her defenses crack.
“Fine,” she relented. Before anyone could say anything, she stalked forward, walking past him as she made her way towards the edge of the perimeter.
A moment later she heard footsteps follow her.
***
“I’m sorry.”
Hermione laughed humorlessly as she continued to watch the blue and violet dragonflies chasing each other just at the edge of the forest beyond the perimeter. “Sorry for what exactly?”
She didn’t need to see him to see his startled expression. When they were kids, he never had to explain himself — she never asked that of him. She had always easily accepted his apologies because even though she knew he only meant them so that she would go back to helping him and Harry with their essays or whatever they needed, she wanted to forgive him. Because she needed them — needed friends, needed her place in the trio. But not anymore.
“What do you want me to say? Just tell me — ”
“Are you kidding me?” she exploded, rounding on him. “Have I got to write it out for you? Do I have to think for you and hold your hand while you make up sentences that you think will please me but don’t really mean anything to you?”
“Hermione, fuck!” he exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. “You’re right I have no idea what to say but I mean it. I’m sorry. I — I missed you.”
Hermione shut her eyes, calming her breathing before she opened them again. A stony expression cooled over her features.
“Was it easy?” His brows furrowed in confusion. “When you left. Was it easy?”
“I — after all of it I just couldn’t,” his voice croaked, looking at her desperately. “I needed to get away! I couldn’t give up on him like that. He was like a brother to me.”
Hermione blinked rapidly, fighting against unshed tears. “Of course,” she whispered. “And me, Ron? Was it so easy to give up on me?”
He was silent. Tears stung her eyes.
“And where were you? Relaxing while we continued risking our lives?”
“Muggles.” Ron looked away, shame evident in his expression. “I hid out and lived with muggles. I just needed to get away — I couldn’t — couldn’t bear it any longer. You know I was never as brave or strong as you and Harry.”
She scoffed. “And now you’re back?”
“I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was alright. The muggles — they really don’t know what’s going on.” Ron looked at her then, determination in his face. “I came back because I missed you and couldn’t keep waiting around and pretending there wasn’t a war going on.”
“I know I fucked up,” he continued. Her face remained as impassive as ever. “Hell, I’m fucked up. But I’m here to fix things. And I need your help, Hermione — I need you.”
Hermione laughed humorlessly. Wasn’t it always like this? Someone always needed her, needed her to fix things.
“Sometimes you have to put yourself first, Ron,” Hermione said, heart beating wildly in her chest. “Sometimes a drowning person will take you down with them. I can’t let myself drown for you.”
Ron looked at her, pure shock in his eyes.
“Perhaps it's selfish, but I — I have to put myself first for once,” she swallowed, refusing herself to feel guilty or take back what she said.
“Alright then,” he said, looking away from her. “I’ll be staying over at headquarters.”
Hermione simply nodded and turned away, not bothering to wait for the sound of apparition.
***
“And, Mini, here’s da scary dragon and da — ”
Hermione plastered on a smile as Scorpius pointed excitedly at the pages of his favorite dragon bedtime book. Ever since Ron left that morning, Hermione felt a dark pang in her chest, old scars reopening once again. Her mood did not go unnoticed by Draco, but he didn’t say anything, which she appreciated. Nevertheless, there was a tense silence between them.
“ — Scowpius is baby dragon, daddy is daddy dragon, and Mini is mama dragon.” Hermione froze as the boy repeated his comparisons. Her heart hammered erratically and she noticed Draco go rigid as well from the corner of her eye.
“Scorpius — ” Draco whispered tiredly, but the boy wasn’t having it.
“ Mini is mama ,” the boy said, frustrated tears streaming down his face. Hermione's chest hurt — it hurt because she didn’t want to correct him and couldn’t deny how right it felt. But she knew it wasn’t her place. “Astowia is mother, Mini is mama !”
Scorpius suddenly looked at her, silver eyes wide. “Mini, you is mama right?”
“Scorpius… ” Hermione's voice faltered. She could not look him in the face.
“Scorpius, that’s enough,” Draco said firmly. “It’s time for bed.”
Vaguely, she heard Scorpius sniffling as she rushed out of the room. A chaos of emotions raged through her then — everything she had tried to suppress and ignore rattled and broke free from their confines. She couldn’t go through it again — go through getting attached, only to be abandoned. Again. And again and again and again.
“Hey.” Hermione twitched as a hand wrapped around her wrist and gently turned her around. She silently looked up at a set of steel grey eyes that intentently searched her face.
“Draco,” she choked out, pulling away. He immediately let go of her wrist as if burned. “It’s late and I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now.”
She looked up again, finding his face closed off. But she knew better, knew better to recognize that he was occluding. But still, there were layers she had yet to discover. And after everything and with Ron showing up again, perhaps she was not ready for whatever truly lay deep down. Perhaps she was not ready to see the truth of where she stood in his and Scorpius’ life, in the shoes of a ghost that would always be there. It would be Ron, Harry, and her parents all over again.
“Goodnight.” She left before he could respond, not wanting him to see the tears slipping down her face.
Notes:
A/N: Hi 🥺 This month was rough - I didn’t expect the delay to be this long but so many real life deadlines came up, I got sick, and I felt my creativity stifled. Now that things are back to normal in real life, updates should be more regular. We are approaching the last third of the fic and I just want to thank you for all your patience and support. You have no idea how much your support means to me. I read all your comments and believe me when I see it really motivates me to keep going, not just with writing the fic but with life. Inherently, a lot of what I put into the experiences and feelings of both these characters come from personal things I've dealt with/am dealing with. So this is really like a horcrux for me as I do put a part of my soul into it and it's truly magic seeing people connect and appreciate it 🤧 Love you all!
Chapter 29: Chapter XXVIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Perhaps they were right putting love into books.
Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.”
— William Faulkner
It had been 73 days and 14 hours since they lost everything. The war. Their best friend. Something had broken between her and Ron. Day by day even as they spent every moment together, she never felt so distant from him.
Hermione stared up at Ron across the fire. His face held the same desolate hollowness she didn’t doubt was reflected in her own face. They were somewhere in the forest of Dean looking for a lead, a clue that could somehow help them save Harry. But she was lost. She was lost and did not know what the fuck she was doing.
Kingsley and Moody had shared a look when Ron revealed their plans to find a way to get Harry back. She had tried to convince them too, presenting them with her theories and research, but even she knew it was bullshit.
“We are almost there, I know it, Mione.” Hermione blinked at Ron who was rocking back and forth. It was a dead end, she knew it.
“Ron… I don’t think there will be a way to bring him back — ”
“You’re giving up?” His eyes snapped to hers.
“It’s — it’s not what I’m saying it’s just that — ”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” he exploded, standing. She stood as well.
“Ron, you know how much I want this to work, but we tried everything! I searched every book, every lead, and — ”
“But you’re supposed to figure it out! You always figure it out!”
“I can’t, Ron! I’m so fucking lost,” she gasped, a sob wrenching through her upon her confession. She couldn’t fight the tears this time. “I think we need to move on,”
“Harry would have never left you behind, he would — ”
“Well I’m not fucking, Harry!” Ron blinked at her outburst, surprised. “But what could we have done? I always suspected that shard of soul — ”
Ron narrowed his eyes. “You knew?”
She didn’t mean for it to come out. “I — I wasn’t sure — ”
“Fuck! You fucking knew and didn’t say anything?” Ron yelled. He ran his hands through his hair.
“Ron, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything but I wasn’t sure. I only suspected — ”
“Maybe if you told us earlier, Harry wouldn’t be gone,” he snarled. Her heart shattered even further — if she still had some semblance of a heart left after what she had done to her parents and what she didn’t do to save Harry.
“Ron, please,” her voice broke. She was so lost and scared. She couldn’t lose him too.
She called out to him again, but he shook his head and disappeared into the forest. The whole world crashed around her and she crumpled into herself. She fucked up. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
When she returned to headquarters she was greeted by a red-eyed Ginny and a note. Ron was gone.
Hermione jolted awake and curled around herself as a fresh wave of sobs wracked through her body. Everything was fucked up and she did not know when the nightmare would ever end.
***
The sky rumbled overhead, fat drops falling one by one like tears from a dying god.
“You’re distracted!” Draco landed another successful jab to her ribs. The witch gritted her teeth, retaliating by sending sloppy hits his way. “ Focus , Granger.”
“ Shut up .”
Draco regulated his breathing, watching her circle him. Her hair was tied back tightly, highlighting the gauntness of expression and the bags under her eyes. He didn’t even need to see her face to know she barely slept.
Draco’s fists curled against the door, resisting the urge to blast it open. Another muffled sob came from the other side. Draco tried the door knob again despite knowing it was already locked. This was the third night this happened. He felt something deep inside of him tighten as more sobs sounded. Helplessly, he pressed his forehead against the wooden door.
“Again!”
Hermione’s attacks came more rapidly but still lacked the fluidity and precision she usually had.
“This is pathetic!” He saw a fire light in her eyes and he urged it on. “Give me all you got, Granger!”
She did. She let out all her anger and frustration and directed it at him. And he let her — as long as it kept that fire alive, he didn’t care if she took it out on him.
Again and again she attacked, losing herself to her emotions. He blocked and parried, letting her take her shots while he remained on the defense. A hoarse sob wrenched through her as she threw herself at him, fists blindly attacking him but with not much force. Gently, he grabbed her wrists and her body began to falter.
“Hermione,” he murmured, pulling her against his chest. Her body sagged in defeat, clutching the front of his drenched shirt.
He felt helpless — ashamed he could not bring her more comfort. The only thing he seemed to be capable of offering was a distraction. But if that’s what she wanted, he would give her that.
The clouds rumbled darkly and more rain fell. A shiver passed through him as the cold seeped into his bones but it didn’t last long as warm lips pressed against his. He shuddered, pulling her body closer. One hand slipped into her wet hair, the other tightened around the curve of her waist. Draco sighed against her lips as her hands slid against his chest. When she trailed her lips along his neck, he groaned deep in his throat and dug his fingers into her hip.
Though his blood roared at her touch, he felt the walls of his mind crumble. The smell of burnt sugar and ash assaulted his senses followed by the image of pale blue eyes staring back at him. No .
Draco blinked rapidly as he was hit with a sudden chill. It was then he realized Hermione had detached herself from him. He saw the horror in her bloodshot eyes before she looked away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He reached for her but all he met were icy raindrops on his numb flesh.
***
It was chaos all around her and Hermione didn’t know where she was with all the smoke from the exploded lab disorienting her vision. She tried not to panic as she blindly tried to find her way without being hit by a spell.
“Granger!” Hermione was barely able to react when a yellow light almost caught her on the right. Out of nowhere, Draco came into view by her side and blocked the attacks coming from her blind side. Hermione jolted back into action.
Without speaking, they continued to fight as thankfully the smoke began to clear. She barely hit her targets and more and more guilt spiraled in her as she noticed Draco take the brunt of her mistakes.
They had just taken down another Death Eater when Hermione heard a hoarse scream. Ron. She sprinted until she found him writhing on the ground, Bellatrix grinning above him.
“Poor baby Weasley,” she crooned, letting go of her cruciatus on him. “You sound just like your idiot father when we strung him up in the Ministry using his insides.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Ron snarled, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth.
Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed.
“ Bombardo! ” Hermione hissed.
Bellatrix raised her wand but not quick enough to stop herself from being thrown backwards. Hermione kept her wand up and stood in front of Ron. Vaguely she noticed Draco haul Ron up to his feet.
Hermione’s arm twitched when the witch recovered. “What a lovely reunion,” Bellatrix grinned from beneath the dark strands of hair falling wildly across her pale face. “Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. But we’re missing one more aren’t we?”
Bellatrix dug her wand into the flesh of her forearm where her dark mark was, hard enough to draw blood. Under the moonlight, her blood was as black as ink. Suddenly, above them, the dark mark lit the starless sky. The skull opened its jaw and a giant serpent slithered out of it and hissed.
A noise like a thousand bats sounded through the air as a dark cloaked figure appeared before them. Hermione paled.
“Harry,” Ron breathed, now standing next to her. The man before them was not Harry Potter. His red eyes gleamed back at them as he pushed his hood back.
He smiled coldly. The black veins on his face were starker than she remembered. “Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.”
Bellatrix cackled by his side.
“Members of the True Order,” the Dark Lord spread his arms wide and the fighting ceased at the sound of his voice. “For too long we have strayed from our cause. For too long we have allowed ourselves to lose countless of powerful witches and wizards by fighting amongst ourselves.”
Hermione’s wand shook as Voldemort’s crimson eyes landed on her. “How long will you keep fighting? How long will you keep sacrificing for a cause that will only hurt your own kind? I am here to bring back power, to bring us to our rightful place in a world where we no longer have to hide or diminish ourselves. Surrender now and we will spare you. Surrender now and we will rise together .”
“We will never give up,” Ron spat. “All your words are lies! We would rather die than follow you!”
Voldemort smiled and raised his wand. “So be it. Aveda —”
Hermione jolted backwards, the world collapsing as if she was being sucked into a vacuum. The world expanded again and all she could feel was pain. She felt like her body was cracked on the inside. She couldn’t feel her fingers and toes and all she could do was scream silently. Vaguely, she noticed Ron puking on the ground next to her. Cool large hands cradled her face and a voice called out her name before it was drowned in white noise. She found herself calming as gray eyes came into view above her. She thought she was looking into the heart of a burning silver star. All she knew before she lost consciousness was that she was going to be safe.
***
Hermione blinked awake, the headquarters infirmary coming into view. She groaned at the dull ache in her body and tried to flex her limbs and legs but the stiff bandages restricted her movement.
“Watson?” Her vision sharpened, revealing the elf on a chair near her cot.
“Ms. Granger.” The old elf nodded then continued to knit what looked like a tiny green cap.
“What happened?”
“Ms. Granger is splinched when the Malfoy heir disapparated with she and the Weasley boy. The healer makes sure all fingers and toes on the mend now.”
Hermione swallowed stiffly, glad she didn’t remember any of it. It felt like her body had been ripped and sewn back together like a doll.
“What time is it?”
“It is four in the morning. Watson just relieved the Malfoy heir, he has.”
“Draco was here?”
“Yes.”
“Is Scorpius alright?”
Watson wrinkled his nose and scratched his fleshy pointed ears. “The young Malfoy is sleeping now. Too much negotiation,” he grumbled, “but Watson makes him go to bed.”
“Thank you, Watson. For taking care of him.” Watson lifted his chin, busying himself once more with the tiny cap. A comfortable silence passed. “Can I ask you a question?”
Watson paused as if debating her request. Finally, he nodded.
“It is my understanding that house-elves need a home, to feel a sense of belonging to their family, hence the magical ties they’ve made with many pureblood households. How did you fight against that nature?”
“Ms. Granger is right — it is in the house-elf nature and magic to need a home and family,” Watson’s purple eyes zeroed in on her, “but not to be a slave, oh no, but to do services out of a shared bond. Watson’s family has served the same purebloods for years. Watson’s ancestors chose the most honorable family of Selwyn to give their fealty and loyalty when the most noble Soraya Selwyn healed Watson’s ancestor. But their spawn is not honorable or noble,” he spat.
“And those elves that have been mistreated, why do they still try to return to their masters even after being freed?”
Watson chuckled. “Wizard-kind are not so different, are they? Even if they are treated terribly by their own ties and blood, do they still not stay? Both wizards and elves, it is in our nature to seek homes in other beings and cling on to the bonds that may even hurt us.”
Hermione startled at his words. He was right. She had never understood the abused house-elves she had freed in the past who fought against being freed. But what was the difference from wizards and muggles who continued to stay in relationships when they’ve been treated badly?
“And now? Now that you are free from the family that abused you, do you feel it? That need to find a home in others? Or do you fight it, to protect yourself and maintain your freedom?”
Watson shrugged.
“Watson thinks this is a question Ms. Granger is also trying to answer.” His gaze pierced right through her as if seeing something she could not. The elf looked back down at his work and picked at the green thread. “Watson does not know the answer. Watson’s old masters were not family, they hurt Watson. Some elves is too blind to see it — don’t know who they are without their masters. Watson believes true family exists, but maybe not where he expects.” His voice was softer towards the end.
“Ms. Granger must rest now,” he said a moment later.
Hermione nodded and lost herself to sleep.
***
“Weasley.”
“Malfoy.”
Draco blinked slowly, feigning nonchalance. This seemed to infuriate the ginger more as his lips curled in some semblance of a sneer. Draco smirked.
“Who you?” Scorpius asked, perched snuggly on Hermione’s hip as they entered the kitchen.
“Erm hi, I’m Ron.” The red-head at least had the decency to manage a strained smile at Scorpius. Scorpius however looked him up and down warily. When his gaze landed on his unruly red hair, the boy arched a brow.
“Ron, this is Scorpius,” Hermione introduced while coming to stand between them.
Draco stepped towards Hermione and Scorpius, taking Scorpius into his arms.
“Is there something you need, Ron?” Hermione crossed her arms.
Ron’s eyes narrowed at the close distance between Draco and Hermione. “What’s going on? Between you and Malfoy?”
“Nothing.”
Draco froze, his head snapping up and searching Hermione’s features. But her face was a mask, no evidence of her clipped response that still echoed in his head. Nothing . He didn’t know what he expected and maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but the words made his blood run cold.
“Can we have a moment?” the redhead asked her imploringly.
Before Hermione could respond, Draco turned away, leaving them in the empty kitchen.
“Ron, I’m not having this conversation again,” she sighed, feeling too tired and drained. She had nothing else to say to him.
“Look, I don’t want to fight okay? Just talk,” he said carefully.
Instead of responding, Hermione took a moment to look at him. Now that her initial shock was gone, she noticed how skinny he had gotten over the years. He looked haggard, his red hair not as bright as it was before. He wasn’t a boy anymore, the warm, carefree Weasley boy she had crushed on for many years. She wondered what Harry would think if he saw the both of them now. If he would be surprised, disappointed. Terrified?
“I’ve been working things out like you said. And seeing Harry… well, his body,” his voice cracked and Hermione felt some sympathy despite how angry she was with him, “it’s not him. Ginny’s been taking me on some missions of hers as well. I’ve seen what that bastard in Harry’s body has been doing.”
Hermione nodded but remained silent, feeling a slight relief that Ron was beginning to accept that Harry was gone.
“You’re not the only one upset — Ginny, George, and a bunch of Order members are. And I know it might be a while but I’m certain we can get things back to the way they were.”
She stilled and blinked at him incredulously. Back to the way they were.
He continued. “It’ll be just like old times, yeah? You and me. It’s what Harry would’ve wanted — ”
Hermione snapped. “ Don’t you dare . Don’t you dare tell me what Harry would have wanted. Gods,” she said in exasperation, running her hands through her hair. “You don’t think I want things to be back the way they were? Of course I do! But I’m not her anymore, Ron. I can’t lie or pretend that this war hasn’t changed me.”
“But you’d still give our friendship a chance?”
“I — I’ll have to think about it. There’s just a lot going on — ”
He scoffed. “So you can give Malfoy a chance but not your best friend?” he spat.
“It’s different — ”
“ Of course ! How could I have forgotten the kid!”
“Excuse me? Don’t you dare bring Scorpius into this!”
“Oh please, Hermione, I read his report. I know his wife is dead. Come on — the brightest-witch -of-our-age aren’t you?” he snarled. “He’s fucking using you! He needs a nanny for the kid! What? Did you actually think you could be his mother?”
Hermione inhaled sharply. Her fingers began trembling as the voices in the back of her mind rang in her ears.
“Did you think he would let someone who isn’t a pureblood be that kid’s mother?” he scoffed. “I mean really, Hermione. Must be convenient for him, yeah? A willing witch to play nanny, letting her pretend she could be the kid’s mother, and at the same time being able to stick his pureblood prick — ”
A solid crack echoed through the kitchen as Hermione’s fist met his face. Ron staggered backward, clutching his bleeding nose. Her hands were shaking, her knuckles feeling bruised at the impact. But it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest. She felt as if she was choking, her chest collapsing from the inside.
“Get out! Get the fuck out!” she screamed. She put her head in her hands, vaguely hearing the back door shut and the sound of disapparition moments later.
Everything that happened over the past few days rushed towards her like an angry wave that would drown her. She swallowed thickly. Ron was cruel but deep down she knew he was right.
***
Dinner was a quiet affair. Even Scorpius barely touched his meal having noticed the tension between the two adults at the table. The meal tasted like ash in Hermione’s mouth, doing nothing to take her mind away from the words Ron hurled at her.
“Daddy, can I go to room and play?” the boy asked tentatively.
“Yes,” Draco murmured, eyes still focused on his unfinished meal.
When Scorpius left, the room seemed to take on a distinct chill.
“If you’re done, I’ll store the leftovers,” she said tonelessly, not able to bear the tense silence between them.
She had just gotten up and waved her wand to take the food away when a large hand curled around her wrist. She waited a heart beat but he seemed to hesitate, refusing to look at her. What he was about to say seemed to die in his mouth when his lips settled into a grim line and his face hardened.
He let go of her wrist. “I’ll clean up.”
Hermione stared as Draco stood then wordlessly levitated the dishes to the sink. It surprised her, his coldness. It was as if they were back to the beginning.
“What’s wrong?” She had been so caught up in her argument with Ron that she had not noticed Draco’s shift in attitude.
To her surprise, he laughed humorlessly, finally turning away from the sink to look at her. “What’s wrong? Nothing , Hermione. Nothing.”
His words confused her and he seemed to read that, his face closing off more and more.
“Prove it then,” she challenged. “If there really is nothing wrong.”
She expected him to finally let her in and tell her what he was feeling, but she was taken off guard when his eyes narrowed and he crossed the room in long strides, capturing her lips in his. His lips molded over hers but as she kissed him back, she noticed it felt different. His kiss felt detached, clinical. She pulled back abruptly, searching his face. His eyes held a cold indifference she knew too well.
“Are you occluding?” she whispered. He didn’t respond, continuing to stare at her with a distant expression. Her chest tightened. “Don’t kiss me when you’re occluding.”
Draco shut his eyes and when he finally opened them she saw a chaos of indecipherable emotions in them. It took her aback.
“Fine, is this what you want?” he yelled, arms wide. “You know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I didn’t realize you could be so cruel, Granger.”
“What are you — ”
“ — but it hardly matters, right? Because apparently what’s between us is just nothing .” Hermione looked at him, shocked, his words finally making sense. “I know what I’ve done and what I’m capable of — it's nothing to be proud of. Being with me is nothing to be proud of, but I didn’t think you were that ashamed of what is between us that you would reduce it to nothing when Ronald Weasley comes back in your life,” he snarled.
Hermione was stunned. She never meant it that way — she wasn’t ashamed. It had just been her automatic response. But before she could even say all these things, he stormed out.
***
Over the next few days, the stony silence continued. Draco was avoiding her. He would leave the room when she played with Scorpius. When they collaborated on research, he left his work on the desk in the library and barely said a word when they had to interact. He was also occluding more. She noticed the cold expression he now always wore.
Hermione didn’t know what she felt anymore. She could not detach herself from her fears of abandonment, insecurities about his dead wife, and Ron’s words that Draco was just using her. It repeated in her mind over and over again. What she did know, however, was that she wasn’t ashamed of what they had. But as she reflected, she couldn’t deny that deep down she was afraid. There was an instinctive defense mechanism urging her to walk away before she was in too deep and got hurt. But she pushed these thoughts away for now.
It was just dawn when she walked into the library. She paused upon meeting the back of Draco’s head. His back tensed at the sound of her presence. From where she stood, she only got a glimpse of the parchment he had put on the desk, likely going over some blueprints.
“I’m not sure if you’ve seen Kingsley’s letter but we have to move safehouses tomorrow for the group mission.”
He merely nodded.
“I’m not ashamed you know.” The words coming out of her before she even realized it. Mustering her strength, she walked towards him. “Please look at me.”
A feeling of embarrassment rushed through her when he didn’t say anything. After a moment however, he turned, looking at her with a guarded expression.
“I’m not ashamed,” she repeated, stronger this time. “When I told Ron that nothing was going on, it was just something that slipped out. But I didn’t mean it. I won't deny that being in a relationship with you will stir some people, but I don’t care about what they think. This is all so new to me, but I do care about you and what we have. I’m not very good at these things and I know I can sometimes — ”
Hermione was cut off by his lips. He kissed her fiercely, holding her tight against him. She bunched her fists in his shirt, her heart aching for more. Words weren’t exchanged between them but she felt everything he had to say in the way his heart beat rapidly between her knuckles and the way he devoured her like a man starved. His hands roamed along her back and one of them came up to grip her hair and angle her face so he had better access to her mouth.
A fire continued to burn deep in her stomach, even as he slowed down to take his time. There was something more intimate about the way he kissed her gently — slowly — as if he was savoring the feel and taste of her. He nibbled on her bottom lip and she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her. At the sound, he froze, abruptly stepping back from her.
Hermione watched as his face shut down again and a haunted look entered his eyes. He swallowed and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“It’s because of Astoria isn’t it?” His eyes snapped up to hers and it felt like a bucket of cold water drenching her when she saw the pained look in his eyes.
“Yes.”
When he said nothing more, with trembling hands and tears streaming down her face, she walked away.
***
Draco looked up from where he was packing some research materials after having put Scorpius to bed. Hermione stood in the doorway, the soft candlelight illuminating her features. He held a breath and took this one moment for himself. He took in the way her curls glowed like amber in the candlelight, cascading around her shoulders. He took in her warm complexion and slight flush on her cheeks. But when he finally looked at her eyes, he went stiff at the blankness in her expression.
He didn’t like that.
Draco walked towards her, searching for a hint of something, any emotion in her eyes.
“Hermione…” Her eyes were blank and unseeing as she looked back at him. Determined, he ducked his head and leaned forward. Before his lips could even brush hers, she turned. He froze.
His vision suddenly felt clouded and he vaguely noticed her step away from him.
“I’ve spoken to Kings and Moody,” she began, eyes focused on the solitary flame. “I asked if I could opt out of the mission so I can prioritize this lead I’m on. So I — I won’t be going with you and Scorpius tomorrow to the safehouse.”
Draco’s jaw clenched. “And when will you be joining us again?”
“I don’t know.” She refused to look at him.
The moments ticked as he let her words sink in.
“That’s it then?” His words were clipped.
“Draco…” She finally looked up at him, hesitation in her face. “I — I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
“And what exactly is this ?” he snapped, harsher than he intended to. Her eyes narrowed.
“I can’t keep pretending! I can’t keep ignoring the feeling that I’m not supposed to be in yours and Scorpius’ lives. I’m becoming attached and I can’t keep living knowing that I’m just some replacement for Astoria.” She inhaled deeply, unable to stop herself. “Astoria will always be Scorpius’ mother and have a place in your lives, as she should , but I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding in your world.”
“That’s what you think? You think you’re just…” he sputtered incredulously.
“That’s what I know ,” she replied with determination. “She obviously still holds something over you, Draco. At first I tried to ignore it but whenever we get carried away or get too intimate, you shut down. You get that same haunted look in your eyes when you have nightmares, when you — when you dream of her. I can’t impose myself on your world and pretend there is a place for me in it,” she choked. “I can’t do that to myself. I’ve been disappointed and abandoned too many times — I don’t think I could take this . I can’t put myself through that.”
“It’s not — you don't know what happened,” Draco rasped, angry at everything, angry at himself.
“You’re right I don’t. So tell me then,” she retorted, trying to keep her voice steady. “What happened between you and Astoria?”
Draco opened his mouth but nothing came out. His occlumency walls shuddered, shaking him to the core.
“Right,” she said, shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m not going to force you to tell me — you don’t owe me anything. But at the same time I owe it to myself to protect myself.”
A strained silence came between them, no sound but the crackling of the solitary flame that began to die.
“And it seems you’ve made up your mind then?” His jaw clenched. She had made her decision — her look told him that it wasn’t going to change. “Will you at least say goodbye to Scorpius?”
Her eyes turned glassy at the mention of his son. “Yes, I’ll say goodbye before you go.”
A cold wind entered the room, extinguishing the flame. Light yielded to hungry shadows that consumed the space. Draco blinked and when he opened his eyes, all that was left was the empty darkness.
***
“ — and then in book Mr. Caterpili eat so many things because he hungry!” Hermione managed a small smile as she held onto the boy a little tighter.
“The portkey activates in a few minutes. Scorpius, are you ready?” Draco walked into the library, avoiding her gaze. He wore a solemn look on his face.
“Ready!” Scorpius chirped as Hermione handed him to Draco.
When she stepped back, Draco pulled out the unactivated portkey. Scorpius looked up suddenly.
“Mini, let’s go!” His brows furrowed as he reached out for her. Hermione was certain her heart broke at that instant.
“I’m not coming, Scorpius,” she whispered, tears falling down her face. She saw panic suddenly take over the child’s features as he tried to understand what she was saying.
“Mini what you mean?” he said, squirming in his fathers arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she choked, forcing herself to leave the room. She pressed herself against the wall next to the doorway, a hand covering her mouth as a sob wrenched through her.
“ — no! No! Mini! Where is Mini!” Each of Scorpius’ screams pierced through her again and again. She screwed her eyes shut. She had to do this. She had to do this.
“Scorpius, please.” Draco’s voice cracked.
Hermione choked on another sob as pain shot through her. Her body instinctively turned back towards the doorway but she was only able to catch a flash of pale blond before it disappeared before her eyes. They were gone.
***
The next few days passed in a haze. Hermione felt like a foreigner in her own mind. She stuck to her routine, did her research and experiments but the emptiness of the safehouse suffocated her. It continued to rain, casting the world in grey light.
“ Shit ,” she hissed, stopping the cauldron from overflowing. Her hand shook as she cleaned up the mess with her wand. She couldn’t focus, she couldn’t think she — she…
She threw herself on the chair, head in her hands. She had prepared herself for this, had told herself it was for the best. But more and more it felt like she was dying.
Finally, she decided to take a break from her experiments, yearning to curl up in her bed. Her feet brought her to her room, barely sparing a glance at the mess of books, parchment, and clothing.
Hermione sat on her bed and stared at the blank wall. It was better this way, she told herself. She couldn’t live trying to compete with a ghost. She could not impose herself in a world she did not belong to.
Resigned, she pulled over a stack of parchment from her bedside. She paused upon noticing a scrap piece of paper fluttering to the ground. Hermione frowned, putting the stack down and reaching for the paper.
The paper was no bigger than her palm. Upon her touch, her name appeared in a familiar elegant script. Her heart beat rapidly as she turned it over.
(pt. 2) Henry VI, III, ii, 375
Hermione stared at the paper in confusion before jolting up and running to the library. Her fingers shook as she thumbed through the collection of Shakespeare plays. All oxygen escaped her once her eyes finally landed on the second part of Henry VI , Act III, scene ii, line 375.
For where thou art, there is the world itself.
Notes:
A/N: *runs and hides behind a bush* don’t kill me? 😅
I know I’m a little late but I hope you guys ‘enjoyed’ this chapter. The last scene was the scene that convinced me to finally write this fic as I was debating doing so for a while but always talked myself out of it. We are now approaching the last third of the fic and I just want to thank you all for reading and supporting me. 🥰🥺
Chapter 30: Chapter XXIX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“And that was what destroyed you in the end:
the longing for something you could never have.”
— Leigh Bardugo
The world was devoid of color. Draco felt nothing as he let his instinct and magic guide his attacks, taking down every Death Eater that crossed his path. The Order had caught the Death Eaters off guard when they stormed the place and ransacked the labs.
“Patil’s team got seven of the victims out and they’re on their way now. The rest were too far gone.” Blaise grunted upon arriving at Draco's side, barely avoiding an acid curse. He raised a shield just in time to block another spell. “You should’ve seen the victims — whatever experiments they’re doing to them, fuck.”
Draco twisted his wand, sending another attacker to his knees. The hallway took on an opaque haze as more spells were fired. “Where’s Pansy? We need to get out before the Death Eater backup arrives. We can't keep this exit cleared for long.”
Just as Blaise was about to respond, Pansy rounded the corner, her face strained as she dragged an injured Order member with her.
Blaise and Draco shielded her path until she safely reached them. “The rest are on their way. McLaggen got injured,” she exhaled, passing McLaggen over to Blaise. McLaggen moaned in pain. They ignored him.
The Death Eaters arrived with less frequency but they still kept their guard up. “Blaise guard the north hall. Pansy, get behind me.” The Slytherins followed his directions and kept every corner checked. Not long after, the rest of the Order members appeared with seven barely conscious victims hauled between them. Draco was distracted for a moment at the sight of them — the black veins on their faces and the desolate look in their eyes. He cursed inwardly.
“Are we clear?” Patil questioned him, a minor gash on her cheek.
“Nott and Luna are monitoring the wards. We have eight minutes before the window opens to disapparate,” Draco responded. Patil signaled sharply to the rest of the team before they all made their way out with Draco at the lead.
To their relief, the hall was clear and they made it to the exit without any interruptions.
Just as they exited the building, Theo ran up to them with a device followed by Luna. He looked above them, squinting at the faint static glow of the wards. “The anti-apparition wards should be down in two minutes.”
“Everyone with prisoners stay in the center. Blaise and Theo guard the front, I’ll hold the back,” Draco commanded. The rest of the team followed suit without argument. The outer lines kept their shields up while they made their way across the field.
“ Fuck ,” Draco cursed as more Death Eaters appeared from behind.
“Draco! Let’s go!” Pansy yelled. He didn’t listen to her. Instead, he pivoted around and took them head on. Draco let his occlumency put him into a state of cold calm, letting his power flow through him with pure intent and will.
“ Spinae ,” he hissed. Thousands of tiny black thorns shot from his wand, sinking into his attackers flesh and through the holes of their masks, blinding them. One by one they went down.
“Malfoy! The wards are down!”
Draco twisted from a curse that grazed his blind side.
“Got you,” a Death Eater chuckled. The Death Eater removed his mask revealing a scrawny young man with oily blond hair. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me, Lord Malfoy.”
Draco remembered him. Mathias Greengrave . He remembered the rat — a cocky and ambitious recruit under his command during his time as a Death Eater.
“Back down, Greengrave,” Draco said coldly.
“Never,” he grinned. “Where’s that mudblood whore of yours? Playing nanny to your runt of a son?”
Draco snarled and attacked. Greengrave was prepared, pulling up a shield just in time before it shattered at Draco’s second attack.
Theo checked his watch. “The window’s closing!”
Draco continued fighting, uncaring. “Damn it!” Blaise yelled before sprinting and snatching Draco by the shoulder and disapparating. At that moment, Greengrave grabbed onto them.
Their bodies flattened and expanded as they were tugged through the very fabric of time and space. Blaise tried to hold on to Draco while he fought off Greengrave.
The world expanded again, spitting them into a forest clearing. Instantly, Draco was on top of the Death Eater. Not bothering to use his magic, Draco slammed his fist into his face again and again.
“Draco!”
He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop the urge to hurt, to punish, to exact some kind of pain on this filthy excuse of a man. There was a brutal satisfaction in the way fear sparked in Greengrave’s eyes as if finally seeing him for the first time.
“Draco, stop!”
Strong arms wound around him pulling him back.
“He’s unconscious.” Pansy came into his vision and Draco looked at Greengrave’s unconscious body behind her.
“He’s alive,” Theo exhaled after checking the Death Eater’s pulse. Blaise’s arms slackened slightly as Draco straightened, his knuckles cut and bleeding but he didn’t feel anything.
“Draco — ” Blaise began but he disapparated.
***
“Draco Lucius Malfoy!”
“ Leave it , Pansy,” Draco hissed over his shoulder as Blaise and Theo apparated in after her. He had just gotten past the wards when an invisible force whipped him around. He glared at Pansy who had her wand pointed at him, moonlight cast severely over her sharp features.
“What’s wrong?” Hands on her hips, she glared back at him. Theo and Blaise shifted behind her.
“Nothing,” he replied in a clipped voice. Pansy didn’t back down.
“ No . Clearly there is something wrong with you!” The witch pointed a sharp finger to his chest. “Where’s Granger?”
Draco went rigid, a coldness hardening his features even further. Pansy blinked and faltered.
“Luna mentioned something she heard from Moody but I wasn’t sure…” Theo mumbled. Pansy and Blaise shared a look.
“I said, leave it .” Draco loomed over her, daring her to keep pushing.
Pansy stepped forward and opened her mouth but Blaise put a hand on her shoulder. He looked at Draco carefully. “It might be good to talk about it, mate. If it’s just a misunderstanding —”
“She fucking left alright!” he snarled. He ran his hands through his hair and laughed darkly. “And there’s nothing you can do or say — ”
Pansy released her shoulder from Blaise’s grip. “I happen to know you very well, Draco, and her too, believe it or not. I’m sure the both of you are just being cowardly idiots refusing to open yourselves up! If you just talk and convince her, make her see — ”
“I’m not going to force her into anything!” he yelled. He exhaled, tipping his head up. Fuck . He didn’t want to talk about it. He pinched his nose, trying to bring his breathing into control. “It was her choice. Her fucking choice. And I’m going to respect that.”
Not waiting for their response, Draco turned away, vaguely hearing murmurs and a heated argument before pops of disapparation.
The safehouse was dark when he entered. Tiredly, he made his way up the stairs. All the fight in him had receded to a bone tiring ache that he knew no slumber could take away.
“Watson,” Draco murmured in greeting. The old elf got up from his seat beside the bed where Scorpius slept.
Watson nodded in return. “The Young Malfoy is sleeping but has difficulties — he is having nightmares.”
Draco rubbed his eyes and sighed. It wasn’t the first time. Ever since she left, Scorpius had trouble sleeping, constantly restless and plagued with bad dreams. Sometimes he found him awake in the darkness, calling out for her.
“Thank you, Watson. I’ll take over from here.” The elf nodded then looked over once more at Scorpius before making his way out the room.
“How is she?” Watson paused and turned slowly. “Hermione. How is she?” he repeated.
Watson watched him curiously. “Watson cannot answer such things only Ms. Granger knows.”
Not probing further, Draco let the elf go. After a quick shower, he slipped into bed and turned off the lamp. Scorpius instinctively snuggled into his chest and Draco held him tighter, screwing his eyes shut and inhaling his scent. It was just both of them again. Draco pressed a kiss to his son’s head. He hoped he was enough.
***
“I’m not hungry, daddy.” Scorpius stared blankly at his meal. “I want Mini’s food.”
Draco didn’t know what was more difficult — Scorpius’ tantrums or his periods of blankness where he showed no emotion. He was even subdued around Watson whenever he came to watch him while Draco completed missions with the other Order members.
Draco sighed. “Scorpius, please. Hermione is not here.”
Scorpius furrowed his brows and looked up at his father. “Then where? Where! Where is Mini!” he demanded angrily.
Draco opened his mouth but no words came out. Scorpius searched his eyes before his face crumpled.
“I want Mini!” he wailed, angry tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t want dis! I want Mini !”
Draco’s chest tightened as a feeling of helplessness drowned him. Fuck fuck fuck . He put his head in his hands, trying to find some measure of control. He was so focused on his breathing, he didn’t notice Scorpius’ cries die down.
“Daddy?” Scorpius’ voice was soft — almost concerned. The next thing Draco knew, small hands pulled at his wrists as Scorpius climbed onto his lap. Watching him carefully with sad eyes, Scorpius wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck. With shaking hands, Draco pulled him close.
“I miss, Mini,” he whispered, his tear-stained cheeks soaking his neck. Draco held him tighter.
“I miss her too.”
***
Draco fell back onto the sofa after having put Scorpius down for his nap. The days seemed to blur into one. Some days it felt like she was gone for a long time, other days it felt like just that morning she had left. Draco stared blankly at the dust motes dancing against the silvery sunlight like lost snow.
Even from the beginning, when she had kissed him back, he knew how it was going to end. It was carved into the stars the same way the dark mark was carved into his flesh. But he had allowed himself, for once, to give in to what he truly wanted despite knowing he had nothing to offer — regardless if all she wanted from him was a distraction. And when she had finally decided to walk away, he vowed not to be selfish. After all she had been through, he could not do that to her — he would not force her to share a life with him that in itself was tainted.
Leaning in the shadows, Draco watched from the corner of the room as Hermione led the Order meeting. His lips quirked upwards silently when she gesticulated wildly and corrected McLaggen on getting the procedure wrong. Again .
His eyes flickered to the small mark on her neck he had left that morning.
“It is a brilliant plan, Herminny-own.” Draco frowned as Viktor Krum put his hand on her shoulder. Hermione gave Krum a small smile before continuing.
Jealousy was a funny thing, Draco thought as he watched her. He had always been taught by his father that Malfoys had nothing and no one to be jealous of. He was told that others were jealous of him — his wealth, blood purity, his breeding. Everything.
Yet even from a young age, Draco had discovered jealousy. He had discovered it when he was seven, sitting in silence with his father at their private quidditch box and noticing through his binoculars a non-pureblood father and son at the lower stands. The son sat on his father’s shoulders while they both laughed wildly despite being in the worst possible seats where they couldn’t see a thing. He felt it again when Harry Potter, with crooked glasses and no family, walked back with his friends from Hagrid’s hut with a happiness that suggested he had everything in life he ever wanted. He felt it again when he saw Ronald Weasley sitting in the Great Hall with his brothers and sister, all teasing and smiling in their hand-me-down robes without one care in the world.
And he felt it now when he watched how at ease Hermione was around Krum, even McLaggen — her easy smile and unguarded expression. He watched how easily she laughed at something Dean Thomas said or when her other Gryffindor classmates brought up a memory from Hogwarts.
It was irrational. He wasn’t jealous out of some possessiveness or notion that he owned her — he was jealous that he could never give her that easy and simple happiness. He was never taught how to win people over without threats or promises. Because Salazar knew he had nothing to offer her. She had the whole world ahead of her and it was foolish to expect her to drop her dreams and ambitions simply because she had a heart and felt some sort of compassion even for the most neglected of creatures.
And that’s why when she chose herself over them, he vowed not to stand in her way. He didn't want her to experience Weasley and even Potter all over again. He refused to let her sacrifice everything for them by putting them ahead of herself. He would make sure she put herself first for once in her life.
Draco was interrupted from his memory by the sound of tiny feet running on the floorboards followed by a small blond head running past the doorway. Immediately he snatched his wand and followed after.
“Scorpius!” Ignoring his father, Scorpius ran towards the front door and Draco panicked when it opened. “Stay bac — ”
“Mini!”
Draco froze at the open door. He blinked slowly, waiting for the illusion to crumble. Hermione stood there, brown eyes wide, curls framing her face.
Let this be real, let this be real .
Instantly, she was on her knees, pulling Scorpius into her arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. Scorpius’ cries were muffled as he clung on to her while she whispered apologies over and over again.
Draco remained still until she finally looked up and stood, Scorpius in her arms and still buried in her neck.
“Hi,” she spoke softly. She walked forward hesitantly until she stood just a few feet away from him.
“Hi,” he replied. She looked exhausted, her face hollow and strained.
“I — I got some research done but no progress. I thought the lead I was on — ” she began to ramble, shifting and glancing furtively at him.
“What are you doing here, Hermione?” Scorpius turned, laying his head on her chest and training his watery eyes on him.
“I found the note you left.” Draco averted his gaze. “And if it’s true, if — ”
His eyes snapped to hers. “It is,” he said slowly.
“Then, I want to try. I don’t want to end things before they begin just because I’m afraid of what might happen.”
Draco searched her eyes, looking for some form of hesitation or uncertainty. Instead he found a determination in them, and something soft, vulnerable.
“You were right,” he said after a moment, “about Astoria.” Hermione visibly flinched. “You’re right that I’m still haunted by her but you were wrong about many things too. And I want to tell you — fuck I want to but I — I’m not ready. Not yet. So if you are willing to wait, to trust me…”
“I am.” She swallowed. “I’m willing to wait. And I – I already trust you. I have for a while now.”
They looked at each then, the world thawing like the tentative awakening of spring.
“Welcome home, Hermione.”
***
“Mini, can I talk to you?” Hermione startled, not having heard Scorpius come into the room. He blinked up at her with wide imploring eyes just barely peeking over the desk from where she sat. “Alone?”
“Of course.” Hermione stood from her seat and glanced at Draco across the room. Draco watched them silently.
Scorpius nodded and took her hand, a pensive look on his face as he led her out the room. Silently, he made his way to the back porch. Hermione was not sure what to make of the boy’s silence. It worried her. Scorpius had been a little off since she arrived, more quiet and subdued.
Finally, Scorpius released her hand and, to Hermione’s concern, began pacing in front of her.
“Scorpius?” She knelt to his level. “Is everything alright?”
Scorpius finally stopped his pacing and approached her, a nervous look on his face.
“Mini, is you going to leave again?” Hermione deflated at the utterly broken look in his eyes. She pulled him into a hug and he automatically held on to her tightly.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, “I’m so sorry, Scorpius, for doing that to you.” She pulled back but only slightly and brushed a lock of hair on his forehead. “I want you to know that it had nothing to do with you. I – I was going through some things but your father and I are working it out. But no. I’m not going to leave you.”
She brushed a stray tear that fell down his cheek. She wasn’t lying. She wouldn't do that to him again, no matter how scared she was. She had put him in the middle of what was going on between her and his father, and in the middle of the battle she was fighting within herself. She thought it would be easier to stop whatever was going on, but it was too late. She cared about him — both of them.
“Can you forgive me?”
Scorpius rubbed his eyes and sniffed. He looked at her a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes, Mini,” he whispered. Scorpius averted his gaze. “I was very very angry — I cry so many times,” he hiccuped. Rubbing his back, she pulled him closer as he continued.
“I cry so many times because – because I love you, Mini,” he looked at her nervously, almost afraid, “so much.”
Hermione's chest tightened. More tears fell down her face but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She cradled his face between her palms and pressed her forehead against his.
“I love you too, Scorpius,” she breathed shakily, “so much.”
They stayed there longer, buried in each other's arms. In her heart, she knew this was worth it and no matter what, she would fight for it. Hermione vowed she would try — not just for Scorpius but for herself. For this, she would not be afraid. For this, she would let herself be open and vulnerable. What they had felt bigger than herself and what had happened to her. Slowly, the hole in her chest felt as if it was being filled. It scared her, but she didn’t try to stop it this time. For once, instead of following her mind, she would follow her heart and allow herself to love, and be loved.
***
“How many made it out?” Hermione asked, twirling the pasta around her fork.
“We were able to get seven out,” Draco replied. “The rest were too far gone. Most of them lost their minds, didn’t know who they were or where they were. We sent one of the mildly affected ones to Theo and Luna. You should be hearing from them soon. The Dark Lord is getting sloppy — there weren’t the usual amount of guards. The Daily Prophet has also reported that their attack on Rome was delayed. But according to Blaise’s contacts, they failed to infiltrate the city.”
Hermione nodded solemnly, absorbing the information. “He’s spread out too thin and is concentrating his efforts elsewhere. I’m sure it's this snake he is looking for in the Cistrine forest — he wouldn’t have Bellatrix on it if he didn’t believe it would work. This snake must be the missing piece that would allow him to successfully create his vessel. I came across a journal entry about an albino serpent an alchemist discovered in the forest. He was cursed with heavy dark magic that was like a poison to his magical core. In his desperation, he ventured into the forest having heard rumors about the snake. He claims to have seen a white serpent whose venom saved him. What’s interesting is that it didn’t eradicate the curse — instead, he said it did something to him, something to his magical core that allowed him to tolerate the dark magic. I can only suspect the venom acted as a kind of binding agent, the kind talked about in Borris Khalgar’s The Theory of Magical Bonding — ”
“Where he describes the process of negative decomposition by which two incompatible entities — the pure and the impure — can be bonded by a binding agent that magically protects the pure entity so that it can co-exist with the impure entity.”
Hermione blinked.
“Look more surprised at my ability to hold information, why don’t you, Granger.”
“ Raaah! Mr. Fork is being attacked by the pastgetti snakes!” Scorpius yelled as he twirled his fork violently around the pasta, emitting hissing sounds.
Hermione ruffled Scorpius’ hair before turning back to Draco.
“Well, Malfoy, my apologies then. I do sometimes forget that you are capable of holding information that isn’t related to the inferiority of wooden combs as opposed to ones made out of mother of pearl or the importance of a 1:2 ratio when it comes to jam and clotted cream. Oh and how the sugar must come before the milk when making a cup of tea as if it makes a bloody difference at all.”
She smirked at his scowl, boldly entwining their hands underneath the table. Despite his glare, she felt his hands tighten around hers.
That night Hermione fell into a deep sleep on the sofa with a small head tucked in her chest and the sound of piano chords lilting through the air. Warm hands grazed her cheek followed by soft lips. She felt at home.
***
“Scorpius! Be careful please!” Hermione nibbled on her lip worriedly as the little tot zoomed slowly, two foot off the ground on a toy broom around Draco’s legs.
“Is okay, Mini!” he replied with a determined face. Draco simply smirked as the witch continued casting Cushioning Charms on the ground.
Blaise had stopped by that morning to deliver reports on the children they were housing, the ones they had saved months ago. They hadn’t had the resources to locate their parents, but many of the healing Order members had volunteered to watch over them while Pansy oversaw the supplies and management. Blaise also came bearing an old toy broom he had found in his attic for Scorpius much to Hermione’s chagrin.
“He’ll be fine, Granger,” Draco said, rolling his eyes as he sat next to her on the grass. She scowled at him, keeping her eyes on the little boy who giggled as he chased a butterfly, pretending it was a snitch.
There was still a tentativeness between them all. Scorpius was more clingy and cautious — she would sometimes catch him looking at her to make sure she was still there. She even thought she imagined another pair of silver eyes doing the same when she wasn’t looking.
“The roses are blooming fully,” Draco murmured, breaking her from her thoughts. She looked to where he had his attention and true enough the rose seeds they had planted bloomed full and heavy, the color of deep rouge.
“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure how they would fare since no one comes to this safehouse often,” she replied, eyes caught on a bee buzzing around one of the blooms.
“My mother would approve,” he said with a distant fondness. Hermione looked up at him, observing the way the sunlight hit his face, dripping along the sharp angle of his jaw, down the column of his throat. Heat bloomed in her cheeks when she felt the weight of his heavy-lidded gaze.
“Owie!”
Hermione gasped, running over to Scorpius who was clutching his knee.
“Scorpius, are you okay!” Hermione began to fuss over the boy upon seeing the small cut on his knee. She healed it and hugged him. Draco narrowed his eyes at the victorious smug look in his son’s face as he snuggled into her.
Finally ‘recovered’ from his fall, Scorpius began some game with her that involved chasing each other.
It was then sitting there as the trees swayed, his son’s laughter and hers tinkering through the space in an intoxicating melody that he realized that his father was wrong. As a boy, Lucius had talked about power and glory, and had instilled in him an unrelenting ambition to achieve status and influence. But it was there in a rundown safehouse somewhere in France, his son and the woman he loved laughing, that realized this was what he truly wanted. There was something here — something he never had — some kind of fulfillment from a life made of an accumulation of simple everyday pleasures. It was in the smell of parchment, ink, embers, and roses — in the laugh of a little boy, a yellow dress, wild curls and sunlight, bright intelligent brown eyes looking back at him.
There was no going back now — once he had tasted it, once he knew what life could be like, he could not unsee nor unfeel. And perhaps it would be his downfall for wanting this even after every terrible thing he had done. He thought of Hermione's story of Eve from the muggle bible. Perhaps Eve was right when she took a bite of the apple, he thought — he knew he would rather have had a taste of what was forbidden and be damned forever than never know what it was like.
Notes:
A/N: Hi guys! I hope you guys enjoy this. Again thank you much for all your support and love. You really don’t know how much it means to me. I’ll be honest, real life is quite lonely for me and this fic has really been also a way for me to express myself, to express the things no one seems interested in or capable of listening to in my real life so it means a lot when you guys read my work and maybe feel some kind of understanding or connection. Happy Easter and love you all!
Chapter 31: Chapter XXX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I overcame myself, the sufferer;
I carried my own ashes to the mountains;
I invented a brighter flame from myself.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche
It seemed like just yesterday Hermione had first laid eyes on a round little face with silver eyes staring at her, shy and curious, peeking out from his father’s chest. And in a blink of an eye, the little boy — who would always be little to her — was a little bit taller, with a little more teeth. From across the kitchen table, Hermione watched fondly as Scorpius buzzed with energy. He stood on the kitchen chair, excitedly trying to follow along the clapping and singing around him.
“Make a wish,” Draco murmured in Scorpius’ ear. Scorpius’ eyes twinkled in the faint glare of the single candle flame.
The little boy screwed his eyes shut tightly, a wide toothy grin on his face before opening them again. His gaze flickered towards Hermione then his father before he blew out the candle on his green dragon cake. The small kitchen erupted in cheers.
Hermione rounded the table, giving Scorpius a squeeze. “Happy Birthday, Scorp!”
“Cheers,” Blaise smiled, putting his arm around Pansy. Luna clapped while Theo flicked his wand, shooting colored confetti in the air. Watson grumbled when it showered over his face, but slow-clapped nonetheless.
Scorpius bounced on the chair and poked his finger into the cake, quicker than Draco’s reflexes. Daringly, he put the little finger covered in green frosting inside his mouth, smiling all the while at his father’s reprimanding look.
It was a small affair with Theo, Luna, the Zabinis, and an impish Watson. Despite everything going on, Hermione had wanted Scorpius to have a normal birthday party — albeit in a rundown safehouse and a quickly put together cake. She had only found out about the occasion a day prior when she had caught Draco in the kitchen, glaring at an old baking recipe book. Silently, she had taken the book out of Draco’s hands then directed him to get the butter and eggs out the fridge. She had also called in a favor from Watson to help source some ingredients. She was surprised how easily Draco followed instructions, taking the birthday cake baking seriously as if he was doing a potion examination for his O. W. L. S.
“It’s not going to explode, you know, if the measurements for chocolate are not exact.” She bit her lip harder when he scowled. She almost lost her composure when he looked at her imperiously, unaware of the slight dust of flour on his nose.
“Granger, the instructions clearly say —”
“A little more sweetness wouldn’t hurt,” she waved him off and poured a little bit more chocolate into the batter. Draco hovered over her as she continued to mix the dough.
Once satisfied, she dipped her finger into it. She had just brought the chocolate mixture to her lips before he caught her wrist and his mouth enclosed around her finger.
Slowly, he extracted his mouth, teeth grazing the pad of her finger. His hand remained firm around her wrist. Her breath stuttered when she caught the dark look in his eyes. “You’re right,” he replied.
After slicing the cake, they settled in the library. The toy snitch from Pansy and Blaise fluttered its golden wings around the room, reminding Hermione of a fat golden beetle. Despite not being allowed to use his toy broom inside, it didn’t deter the birthday boy from running on his legs after it.
“Here’s our gift!” Theo handed Scorpius a paper wrapped parcel. Scorpius’ eyes brightened as he tore at the paper revealing a tiny cloak.
“ Another gift?!” he bounced, wide-eyed at the amount of gifts he was receiving. A pang of sympathy went through Hermione upon remembering this was his first birthday party. She had almost forgotten it had just been him and Draco for the longest time. “Thank you, Uncle Theo and Missy Lu-na!” Scorpius grinned.
“You’re most welcome, little one!” Luna chirped and knelt before him, helping him put it on.
“It’s a shield cloak,” Theo said to Draco and Hermione. “Some automatic warming charms too.”
Draco put his hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
The look in his eyes showcased his gratitude but also a wish that Scorpius never needed it. Draco had been quiet during the whole affair, an almost closed look when Scorpius wasn’t looking. At first, Hermione had supposed it was due to some sentimentality of his son turning another year old. She had given him space and not prodded, but instinctually, she had a nagging feeling there was something more.
“Granger!” Hermione pivoted towards the witch who watched her with an assessing look. Pansy patted the seat next to her with an expression that brokered no argument.
Knowing it was unavoidable, Hermione took a seat next to her. Despite calling her over with a certain authority, Pansy languidly sat back against the couch, her eyes settling on the rest of the party. Hermione joined her in watching Scorpius ‘read’ the lion book Hermione had given him to his new stuffed lion (also courtesy of Hermione, to Draco’s dismay), his stuffed dragon, stuffed ferret, a bored looking Watson, and Luna.
“How are you?” The question caught her off guard. Hermione’s concentration had been on a familiar looking knitted green cap on Scorpius’ head as well as a bag of chocolates next to him. Blinking away, she shifted towards Pansy.
Her brows furrowed. “I’m fine — ”
“Oh, come on, Granger. We have a lot to catch up on. In fact, I’m a little hurt you didn’t call me during your whole fiasco with Draco.” Hermione gave her a look. Pansy rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you weren’t moping around when you tried to stay away from these two. I may have only seen how Draco handled it, but I’m sure it wasn’t as pretty either for you.”
Hermione glanced at Blaise, Theo, and Draco quietly talking. Draco’s eyes briefly flickered to hers before looking away. She stilled. He was occluding.
“It was terrible,” she finally responded. “I thought I could do it, I thought it would be better to stop things. There’s still so much he is hiding, about his past. But we’re trying.”
“Astoria, you’re talking about Astoria,” Pansy murmured. Her eyes took on a contemplative haze. “I didn’t see them together much, to be honest. But Blaise mentioned some things. I can try to ask him.”
Hermione swallowed. “It’s alright, Pansy.” She had promised Draco that she would wait, that she trusted him. “He said he will tell me everything… when he is ready.”
“I see.” Pansy nodded slowly. “And how are you dealing with today?”
Hermione cocked her head in confusion. Pansy’s lips pursed.
“Did you forget? Astoria died giving birth to Scorpius,” she said carefully, “today is also her death anniversary.”
***
The May leaves rustled above, some of which broke from their branches and fluttered to the forest floor. The Slytherins, Luna, and Watson had left not too long ago, leaving their small celebration on a sweet note. Quickly, however, the atmosphere had seemed to transform into something solemn — delicate — as Draco led them outside with a closed expression.
Hermione watched from the edge of the small clearing where a stream ran through. Two pale heads knelt before it. As Hermione kept her distance, she struggled to suppress the twist in her stomach, the echoing feeling that she was not supposed to be there. Draco had not said anything but she knew — she knew this was something between him and Scorpius, between them and the woman they lost.
Draco’s lips moved but all Hermione heard was the soft hiss of the stream. She had not noticed the three sets of twin yellow hibiscus flowers until Draco had presented them in his hands. Quietly, he passed one pair to Scorpius before taking another and gently lowering and releasing it into the water. Scorpius did the same, a pensive look on his face as his blossom joined his father’s and floated down the river.
Hermione felt her heart clench upon watching the intimate moment pass between them. She had said she trusted him and she did — but gods , the doubt, the fear was still there. She felt overwhelmed and confused. A gnawing sensation clawed at her chest and she had to fight the instinct to run and hide from the insecurity she was feeling.
As if hearing her thoughts, Draco looked up at her and stood. There was still a cold vacancy in his eyes but it seemed to warm slightly as they landed on her. She blinked when he held his hand out to her.
“Mini?” Scorpius called out quizzically when she had not yet found her bearings to move. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione walked towards them.
When she reached them, Draco entwined his hand in hers before handing her a flower. Nervously, she bent over and placed it in the water and straightened. Scorpius took her other hand, so tiny in hers. In silence, they watched the flower flow down the river until it disappeared.
***
“Watsy!”
“Ms. Granger,” the elf said stoically, ignoring the boy, “Watson is here to deliver the report to headquarters.”
“Oh! The report’s in my room — ”
“I’ll grab it.” Draco was up before she could move Scorpius off her lap. Scorpius continued his chattering as Draco walked further out of earshot into the hallway and towards her room.
Her room was in ‘organized disarray’ as she called it. Stacks of massive tombs and parchment lay on her bedside table along with maps haphazardly thrown on her bed. Draco’s lips twitched when his eyes landed on a hairbrush that looked half beaten with its bristles bent — some of which were even missing. Finally he spotted the report, tucked beneath a half-empty pot of ink. He grabbed the parchment but not before coming across a photograph propped up next to it. Picking it up, he recognized it as the one they took at the muggle fair.
It was a narrow strip containing three photographs aligned on top of each other. Draco hadn’t had a chance to look at it before. It still struck him as odd that muggle photographs didn’t move. There was a quality of stillness to it, a precision in the way it captured a singular fleeting moment, freezing it forever.
In each photo, Scorpius grinned widely, laughing at something. Hermione was also smiling, her arms around Scorpius as she looked at his son in the first two photos then the camera in the last. Draco noticed that he was scowling in the first two, vividly remembering how he was caught off guard by the flash and neon numbers on the mirror-like panel. In the last picture, however, he was looking at her, an odd contemplative expression on his face that even he didn’t recognize.
As he continued staring at the strip of photographs, an image of an older Hermione came to mind. A scene played in his head of this older Hermione finding the photograph, faded and dusted between one of her books. He imagined the twinkle in her eyes and wondered if she would hold a fondness in her voice while she explained who was in the photograph — perhaps to a bushy-haired little girl and boy with similar features fathered by a faceless man whom Draco couldn’t bring himself to imagine. He wondered if her children would have a riot of curls and brown owlish eyes like their mother. Or maybe they would have red hair and freckles. And in this distant, kinder future where she finally had the life she had dreamed of — deserved — perhaps she would look back at this photograph and it would give her some measure of nostalgic fondness. He told himself it was enough — tried to tell himself it was enough.
***
“As you can read from the reports before you, none of the scouts we sent into the deeper parts Cistrine forest returned,” Kingsley announced as those around the tables scanned the parchment. “They had emergency portkeys on them but they were never used. More Death Eaters have been sent into the forest as well but they don’t seem to have returned either. It’s possible they have set up a base there, but we reckon they’ve encountered something . Granger, Malfoy, any progress on research?”
“Draco and I suspect that the snake mentioned by Mulciber contains properties that will allow the Dark Lord to successfully create his new vessel. As theorized previously, his current form is unstable. We have seen him experimenting on full grown wizards but we remain certain that children are his primary objective for the final host. Given the state in which we saw him last, I think it’s safe to conclude that thus far he has been unsuccessful.” Hermione waved her hand, wordlessly passing out the executive summary of their research. “Seeking immortality alone is not enough. It was his mistake before. He knows that he needs a physical body that will give him what he truly wants — power. For the past years he’s been after Dark Objects and it is likely that this snake is another potential missing component for him to finally get it right.”
“Why does he want to use children specifically? Why won’t a grown wizard do? Unless he’s just that sick,” Ron spat. He continued tapping his finger on the table, looking more gaunt by the second.
“It evidently crossed his mind, as seen in the experiments that left behind empty husks of witches and wizards,” Draco answered this time. “Exhibit 18 details the victims we found that were touched by dementors. Not only were they left soulless but something else was done to them. We’re still uncertain how much progress he has made but he will be intending to use a child once they get the process right and have all the components ready because a child’s magical core is malleable.”
Hermione shuddered at the memory of the bodies of children they found that one night. She noted similar looks of horror on the others. Voldemort was getting desperate. They needed to get to that snake first.
Hermione shared a look with Draco. “There’s also something else we considered.”
Moody’s bobbing magical eye trained on her.
“Knowing that the Dark Lord doesn’t make the same mistake twice, we questioned what else would be different this time — how would he prevent this new vessel from deteriorating?”
“And?” Moody asked.
Draco’s jaw ticked. “We haven’t figured it out. He has been hiding out lately, keeping under the radar — even Bellatrix.” He and Hermione had looked into this for weeks, but could not find any solid leads. “During my time as a Death Eater, Bellatrix was always at the forefront of every crucial plan. Seeing them both in hiding is concerning. I have a feeling it’s related to the question Hermione brought up.”
A heavy silence fell over the room as they absorbed the information. They couldn’t stop now — they needed to end this. Ron cursed as he flipped through more descriptions of the bodies they had found.
“Right,” Moody grunted. “This will be a big mission to address but we’re taking caution as we prepare. Some able wizards and witches that survived the attacks on their villages have joined us as new recruits. But we can’t waste resources. The Zabinis have notified us that the children are settling in well. We’ve also made contact with the American Ministry but we’re being as cautious as possible. We’ll have the assignments out in the coming weeks. Constant vigilance.” Moody thumped his wooden leg to emphasize his latter point.
They were dismissed and the room filled out with murmurs as they dispersed. Draco and Hermione had just made it outside the headquarters when the door opened again.
“Mione! Wait!”
Hermione whipped around and flicked her wrist sharply, sending Ronald Weasley to the ground. Draco couldn’t deny that there was some sort of satisfaction in seeing Hermione, with her wand raised, firing hexes in rapid succession towards the redhead all the while he tried to duck and yell. It was always as sight when she reminded people that she was not to be fucked with.
“ — Mione! You don’t know what it’s been like for me — “
“ — for you ?! You fucking — ”
“ — fucking hell! Mione, come on!” he yelped, staggering to his feet, barrely missing another hex aimed his way. “What else can I say? I’ll say it!”
“No, no ! I don’t want to hear it!” Before Weasley could get a word out, Hermione disaparrated.
Weasley sputtered, the side of his head swelling with pus. Draco turned to follow after Hermione but found himself halting. He definitely harbored ill feelings towards the bloke, especially after he had abandoned Hermione and hurled all those accusations. But, he still didn’t miss the hurt on her face whenever her eyes landed on her ex-best friend.
Draco sighed.
“Actions, not words.”
“Pardon?” Draco turned to face him. Weasley bristled, blinking at him incredulously. Draco rolled his eyes. Stupid git .
“ Actions , not words.” Draco inhaled deeply and stepped closer. The puss began leaking from Weasley’s face like a ripe pimple. “She’s not the same witch you knew — the one you left behind.”
“Listen here you poncy — ”
Draco snarled. “ Don’t interrupt.” The air crackled between them, the surge of magic on both their fingertips, demanding release. Draco held his ground.
“She’s not the same. And if you want to be back in her life, if you want a second chance, you have to accept that. I’m not sure if your friendship will ever go back to the way it was but I know that deep down all she wants is for someone to try. Someone to pick her for once instead of her making every sacrifice only to be put second. Someone who wants her for who she is, not for the use of her intellect or what she has to offer — as if her value can be reduced to only that,” Draco spat. “She deserves better — and she knows it,” he hissed. “Give her time. Use your actions to show her you’re willing to try without dishing out false promises that you think she wants to hear but you don’t truly mean. Be honest and make an effort to get to know who she is now without holding over her head who she once was.”
The red-headed oaf gaped, stunned at his words.
“And if the new person you get to know is someone you don’t like, then I’ll be holding the door open for you.” Draco smiled coldly and at these parting words, he disapparated after her.
***
“Daddy!”
Hermione eyed Draco suspiciously as he walked into the kitchen with a peculiar lightness to his step. “Took you a while.”
He sat next to her. “Missed me, Granger?” Draco reached over and snatched a piece of chocolate toast from Scorpius’ plate.
“Daddy! Das mine!” Scorpius scowled, failing to grab the toast from his father who kept it out of reach before taking a big bite.
“What did I say about sharing, Scorpius?” Draco glared light-heartedly at his son who simply sniffed, putting his nose in the air exactly like a bushy-haired witch he knew.
“If I remember co–rrec-ly, daddy, you say Malfoy’s do not share.”
Hermione hid her laugh behind her hand as a staring contest ensued between the two Malfoys. It was enough to make her feel better after her interaction with Ron.
“It’s alright, Scorp, I can always make more.” Hermione smiled, pinching his cheeks lightly as he gave her a dimpled grin.
“Am a hungry big boy!” he chirped, finishing up his toast in large bites, completely unaware of his chocolate covered face.
***
In the heart of a battle, the human being was reduced to their primal instinct — to survive. It was chaos, a fight to not go gently into the arms of death. Those who knew war had learned that surviving required a certain kind of detachment. It required being able to look another being in the eye and shoot them down without hesitation. It required being able to walk through masses of bodies and the world itself burning without flinching, without feeling. It necessitated shutting that part of yourself that was human so that you could survive. But those who truly knew war, knew that even death claimed even those in breathing bodies — that survival was a concept, an excuse to justify the blood on your hands and numbing of your heart.
In front of Draco lay a valley of ashes and ruins where once an entire village stood. Homes were now reduced to ruble, burnt wood, and mortar. Perhaps the end of the world looked like this, like the ashes of a cold dying star.
“I never stayed for this part.” His voice was so soft, Hermione thought she had imagined it. Standing beside her, he almost blended in with the watery gray sunlight. His face took on a distant quality. “We raided villages, carrying out the Dark Lord’s bidding, but I never stayed for the aftermath when my part was over and the rest of the Death Eaters had their way. I turned a blind eye.”
There was an anger looming in his voice, a deep self-loathing edging his words.
“You did what you had to,” she replied. Even the Order did not fight this war untainted. She could not find the words or explanation for it all. All she could offer was comfort — an attempt at understanding. She understood that sometimes even if we knew the right choices to make, we didn’t always make them because of our circumstances, because of our fears, or because sometimes the ‘right’ choice didn’t even exist.
Hermione slipped her hand into his, uncaring that the Order members began to look at them. Draco looked at her, something in his eyes thawing upon meeting her gaze. Her eyes were alive, unflinching and unafraid. His fingers tightened around hers, a sense of grounding and gravity pounding through him even as they stood in ruin and death.
“Spread out,” an ex-Auror leading their team called out. Despite his stern command, it did little to hide the hint of horror in his voice. He did not have to reiterate the tasks — they were to search for signs of life, any victims, or clues left by Voldemort’s followers.
Ron was one of the last ones staring out at the ruins of the village, his fiery hair stark against the shades of gray. She had been surprised when he hadn’t sent any remarks towards her or Draco. He had mainly avoided her. She would be lying if she said that descending into this level of being strangers with him didn’t hurt, but she knew it was likely for the best.
The team spread out when they reached the ruins of the village, the smell of sulfur and smoke poignant in the acrid air. She and Draco walked silently through the debris, crushed glass crunching under their boots. Despite the silence between them, they remained close and alert. They stumbled upon fragments of life — a broken music box that tinkered disjointed chords in the hollow space, a blood-stained scarf, a burnt family portrait.
“All these people…” Hermione murmured as the remaining survivors slowly emerged from where they hid upon noticing they were there to help.
They continued their search, signaling when they found severely wounded victims. Many of the survivors cowered at his approach, evidently recognizing him. Dark glowers followed after him. He didn’t blame them.
She had not said a word, but he noticed Hermione step slightly in front of him, meeting the eyes of anyone glaring daggers at him. Something in him tightened.
“Let’s split here,” Hermione said once they approached a diverging path.
Wordlessly, Draco rolled his wand between his palm and took the path to his right.
He had not encountered any more survivors as he approached what he suspected was once a small garden. An apple tree, burnt and naked, stood among the rubble and ruins of a small home. Its gnarled branches reached upwards as if clawing for sunlight.
“Who are you?”
Draco whipped towards the sound, his eyes dotting around until they landed on a little girl, no more than five years old glaring at him. He dropped his wand.
“Hello,” he said carefully. Draco noticed a light cut on her cheek. “My name is Draco. I’m here to help.”
The little girl put her nose up, the gesture similar to another witch he knew. She didn’t move as he approached slowly, not wanting to scare her. Her only response was continuing to assess him over the head of her doll.
“What’s your name?”
“Isabella.” Her dark eyes bore into his, as if daring him to try anything.
“Hello, Isabella. I see you have a cut on your cheek, may I heal it?”
Isabella gave him a skeptical look but nodded anyway. She had dark straight hair, dusted with ash that also covered her face. He knelt before her, putting them eye-to-eye. Non-verbally, he cast a quick scourgify followed by another spell to heal the cut. “There we are.”
Relief spread through Draco after casting a diagnostic spell that confirmed that she wasn’t harmed elsewhere.
“Are my parents still alive?”
Draco took a moment. Something told him that she would not appreciate anything else but the truth. Despite her young face, her dark eyes held a world weariness to them as if she had seen more than she should have at her age. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had.
“We will try to find them. I promise.”
Isabella went back to dusting her doll, her face pinching in thought. “You can’t make promises, Draco. It’s war,” she said quietly.
Draco shifted. The truth of her words rang straight through him.
“What’s your doll’s name? She has a nice dress,” he spoke a moment later, hoping to distract her.
“My doll is a ‘ he. ’ His name is Mr . Dolly. You can’t assume my doll is a girl just because he wears a dress,” she sniffed.
Draco’s brow raised at Mr. Dolly. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the doll had conventional male features such as cropped hair and a mustache, but also sported a dress.
“Oh,” he replied.
The little girl huffed, giving him a look as if she was about to explain herself to a three year old.
“You can’t assume his gender! Mr. Dolly can wear whatever he wants. This blue dress brings out his eyes,” she lectured him. “Did you know in Scotland men wear skirts?”
The edge of Draco’s lips lifted. “Yes I did.”
She eyed him like she didn’t believe it, then went on to stroken Mr. Dolly’s cropped hair that seemed to have been singed slightly.
“You remind me of someone,” he murmured. Isabella perked up at him, looking at him curiously. “A very intelligent, strong willed witch, and just as swotty.”
Isabella pursed her lips as if deciding whether his comment was worthy of a response or not. The image of a faceless little girl bloomed in his mind unbidden. Blonde haired and curly, a defiant look in her brown eyes. He locked the image away.
Before she could respond, they were interrupted by shouts. Draco stood in front of the girl, wand ready.
“ — get away from my daughter!”
“ — filthy Death Eater !”
A man and a woman came into sight, livid and accusatory eyes immediately zeroing in on him. But he also saw fear, a fear he knew too well — the fear of a parent.
“That’s enough,” Hermione’s stern face came into view as she finally caught up with them. “Is this her? Is this Isabella?”
Draco lowered his wand as the little girl walked towards them. Her parents immediately engulfed her in their arms, crying and asking if she was alright.
“I’m alright, mum, dad,” the girl said in a muffled voice. “Draco healed my cut.”
The moment shattered.
“Don’t you ever come near my daughter again!” the man yelled, stepping in front of his wife who had lifted Isabella in her arms. He saw some resemblance between them in the same tan color of the girl's skin and dark hair. But the girl took on her mother’s eyes and face.
“I said that’s enough!” Hermione hissed, coming between them.
“Hermione, it’s fine — ”
“No it’s not!” she said firmly before pivoting towards the family.
Once more, Draco attempted to calm her down but Hermione refused.
“ — is an official part of the True Order and has served ever since. I will not allow — ”
This only made the man angrier. The next thing Draco knew, he was wiping spit from his face. He grimaced, his fingers clearing his vision before he wandlessly vanished the spit. Impassively, he stared back at the man.
Before Hermione could retaliate, Draco curled his hand around her arm. “Let’s go. Please.”
She inhaled deeply, glancing at Draco. Her gaze softened. “Alright. Let’s go.”
The couple turned away just as he and Hermione headed towards the opposite direction. Draco glanced over his shoulder, catching Isabella watching him. She smiled at him, almost apologetically. He returned her smile.
***
The world descended into a soft twilight by the time they had finished scouring the remains of the ruins. Camp was being set up by the Order on the outskirts of the village. They had begun treating the victims and would transport them in the morning. Those who were severely injured had been relocated to neighboring villages where they had healers on standby.
After setting up their tent away from the main camp site to avoid attention, Draco and Hermione walked to a nearby stream.
Hermione was restless and pacing as Draco knelt by the clear stream to wash his face. He sighed, letting the coolness of the water seep through his skin as if its cleanliness could wash away all things. When his eyes opened, Hermione was still muttering and pacing. He raked his hair with his damp fingers before standing and leaning on a boulder.
“ — after everything you’ve done to prove yourself — ”
Her rant was cut short when he grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards him. Her frowning face blinked up at him.
“Hermione, it’s fine — ”
“No it’s not!” Her face pinched. “They don’t get to treat you like that.” She wasn’t just angry, she was upset. She was upset over something directed at him. Absentmindedly, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ears.
Draco took his time snaking his hands around her waist before pulling her close. Her cheeks flushed but she leaned into him, placing her hands on his chest.
“As much as I am flattered by your protectiveness, with your glaring and barking about,” he raised a brow in challenge, silently asking her to deny it when she aimed one of those glares at him, “their reaction is something I have accepted. I’m used to the snide remarks and looks. So Hermione Granger, ever the Gryffindor, martyr of the downtrodden” — she pinched his chest, but he just smirked — “it does mean a lot to me, but I would rather you not distress over it.”
Because it did. It warmed something in him. But he would rather she not work herself over it. He had come to learn that there were other things that actually mattered to him, and it didn’t involve what other people said or thought of him. Except perhaps, one person.
She huffed something under her breath that sounded like a reluctant “fine.”
Knowing that was probably the best response he could get, Draco brushed his lips against her forehead. “So protective,” he whispered into her skin.
She gently thumped his chest before giving in and relaxing into his arms.
Night fell but it was bright under the heavy moon. Nocturnal flowers unfurled their pearlescent petals and awakened to the world of night. Together, they sat by the river watching the bubbling brook and listened to the soft murmur of translucent water butterflies that shimmered their wet wings on the surface of the water. On the other side, creatures with glowing mushroom caps blinked at them from behind moss covered stones.
Under the light, Hermione caught sight of his forearm. The mangled gray flesh where his dark mark used to be. He caught her looking but didn’t turn it away.
“It’s still there. I may have been able to carve it out, but sometimes I think I can still see it, still feel the burn of dark magic lingering. It will always be carved there.”
He didn’t flinch when she gently brushed her fingers over it. She twisted her own arm up, revealing her scar. Draco’s face shuttered.
Oddly enough, before him, she didn’t feel ashamed of the scar anymore, as if it had lost its power.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked after a moment.
He nodded.
“Why did you join the True Order? You and Scorpius could have escaped and disappeared from the war, but you chose to switch sides.”
He sat there, looking upward at the constellations above them.
“I wanted to do better,” he finally replied. “I didn’t want to cower and run from my mistakes. I wanted to fix them, make amends… I wanted to be a better man. For Scorpius. To be someone he didn’t fear and who was deserving enough to play the role of his father.”
He continued looking away from her, glaring into some far distance. Slowly, she lifted her hand, cupping his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into her palm. He twisted his head and grazed his lips against her inner wrist.
She shivered. “You have come so far fighting that battle to become more than who the war forced you to be. I know it. Scorpius knows it. Scorpius is a reflection of who you’ve become.” He had to know — she wanted to make sure he knew that she had seen him every single day fighting to carry that burden to become more than his past.
His eyes finally opened, a rawness in them that startled her. He surged forward, catching her lips in his. Without hesitation, she kissed him back, their lips molding into each other as they bathed in the light of a new moon.
***
Draco gave her a quizzical from behind his spectacles. “What is it?”
Hermione immediately straightened from her perch, snapping her mouth shut. “I — I was just wondering how you’re not chilly going to bed without a shirt.”
Her traitorous gaze flickered to his bare chest. Draco raised a sardonic brow, causing her cheeks to warm. Shifting on her cot, she kicked off her shoes and tucked herself in, training her eyes on the tent ceiling.
“I’m feeling quite warm,” he replied by way of explanation, tucking himself in the twin cot a couple feet from hers.
“I see,” she mumbled, “goodnight then.”
“Goodnight,” he replied, a slight laugh in his voice before he waved his wand, dowsing the lamplight.
Sleep had overtaken her immediately as she felt the weight of the day’s exhaustion. In her dreams, she was running in a forest with shimmering leaves. Then she was nothing but the earth itself, the grass swaying, the vines crawling up a willow tree.
“ No! ”
Hermione bolted upright, wand raised into the darkness.
“ I couldn’t do anything — I — ”
Draco. Immediately, she dropped her wand and went to his side. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, now able to make out his pained features with the help of the muted moonlight that glowed through the sheer fabric on the tent ceiling.
“Draco, wake up!” His face was screwed tight, cold sweat beading his forehead. His hands clenched into fists as he continued thrashing. “It’s just a dream!”
His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide. He heaved. “Hermione?”
“It’s just me,” she responded calmly, rubbing her thumb against his jaw. He didn’t have to say anything — she knew who his nightmare was about just by the haunted look on his face.
Finally, he relaxed. “I’ll let you get back to bed now,” she murmured. She had just stood up when a shaky hand wrapped around her wrist.
“Stay” he rasped. Her lips parted in surprise at the request. “Stay.”
Nodding in assent, she sat again by his side. Draco scooted over, wandlessly extending the cot just enough to give her space to crawl in next to him. Immediately, his arms wrapped around her. He said nothing, but when his breathing eventually evened out, she let herself surrender to sleep.
***
Hermione shifted closer to the warmth against her cheek. The surface was solid beneath her palm, but warm and inviting. The arms around her tightened. Groggily, she cracked her eyes open. It wasn’t sunrise yet from what she could tell from the muted gray light still fighting against the dark shadows. But it was enough to make out the pale chest beneath her.
Hermione’s gaze trailed upwards, landing on Draco’s face. She noticed the far look in his eyes. He remained still, as if carved out of marble, so at odds with the warmth of him around her and the solid beat of his heart against her cheek.
“I think I’m ready.”
Hermione thought she was still dreaming. “What — you…?”
His eyes finally met hers.
“I’m ready to tell you what happened with Astoria.” The heavy hints of occlusion were still evident in his hardened eyes, but there was also a burning resolve in them. “I want to use the pensieve at headquarters. If we’re doing this I want you to know everything.”
“Okay,” she replied shakily.
The next time she woke up, it was morning — no evidence of the shadowy world of dreams. Her eyes softened when they landed on Draco. He was still asleep, the warm heavy weight of his head on her chest as his body wrapped around hers. She held on to this moment — it felt like the calm before a storm, the eerie stillness of a beautiful moment before a tragedy. She wondered what she would find behind the locked door. As if sensing her mood, Draco buried his face into her neck and dug his fingers in her hip. She shut her eyes again, savoring this moment of peace.
Notes:
A/N: I know, I know – I’m late by a day. Again :(( I swear I work on this fic during the whole week but the me who wrote the complete first draft of this fic is biting me in the arse now because the chapters are less flushed out and require heavy amounts of editing and additional scenes asdfhglk. The last third is literally no structure, just vibes lol. Knowing this however, I’m making an effort to allocate more time for editing so I can stick to my weekend schedule haha! Hope you guys enjoy! The next few chapters we will finally be going into Draco’s past!!!
Chapter 32: Chapter XXXI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“The sea speaks more honestly
to those willing to drown.”
— Irtiqa Nabi
Bluebeard’s fairy tale went like this: there was a forbidden door, a door Bluebeard forbade his new wife to open. There was a rusted key, cold in her hands and instructions that she could do anything she wanted while her new husband was away; throw the most lavish balls and spend his wealth on anything she desired. His only request was that she never open the door, never peek behind what lurked behind it. But no matter how much she tried to distract herself, the door beckoned to her. Unable to stifle her curiosity and need for truth, she found herself at the door, the cold key in her palm. She opened it.
The stories never talked about whether the new wife regretted it. They never talked about whether she immediately wished she hadn’t followed her curiosity once she opened the door to find a chamber filled with rotting corpses of her husband’s past wives. What was certain, however, was that she could not wipe the blood off the key nor from behind her eyes. She could not unsee the truth behind the man she had married.
Bluebeard’s fairy tale was a lesson — or perhaps, a warning — of the pursuit of truth. It told us that one never truly knew a person, that there always existed a forbidden door that once opened could not be unseen. Maybe the new wife should not have opened the door and should have been content with the wealth and worldly distraction. After all, bliss, no matter how ignorant, was still bliss. Maybe she shouldn’t have been curious, not pursued the truth. Would it have been called love if she had obeyed her husband's request? Was this trust? When love was completely unconditional, was it still love or, instead, was it a dangerous ignorance that would see yourself dead by your own lover’s hands?
Hermione had always been convinced that the new wife was right in pursuing the truth no matter what it revealed. But now she sympathized with the plight of new wife, understood her terror and the courage she needed to bare the truth. She reckoned that the new wife must have known that even when Bluebeard showered her in gifts and luxury, there must have been something that convinced her that something was off, that there were ghosts lurking in those halls. Because the truth was always present, even dressed up in pretty words and pretty smiles.
And now the cold key was in her palm and settled in like a deadweight as they entered Kingsley’s study at headquarters.
“Kingsley said we can use it as long as we need to.” Hermione cast a locking charm on the door.
Steeling herself, she turned and gazed apprehensively at Draco. He stood next to the basin, blank-faced and stoic. That entire morning, he had also been reserved, his expression distant and almost cold. Pale light rippled across the surface of the basin, illuminating his eyes in an unnatural glow of silvery blue.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Light rain pattered on the murky windows followed by the soft rumbling of an approaching storm.
Finally, he looked up. “I want you to know.”
Hermione searched his face a second longer then nodded. Reaching into her beaded bag, she pulled out the three vials he requested then handed it to him. Draco thanked her silently then tipped his wand against his temple. Luminous strings of gas-like substance flowed from the tip of his wand. The glowing strands stretched taught before it was plucked and deposited in the first vial.
“I’m dividing what I want to show you into three parts,” he murmured while he extracted the second and third sets of memories.
Upon finishing, he silently placed two of the vials on the shelf and poured the first into the pensieve. A shimmering glow emitted from the basin as he swirled the memory, faint translucent images reflecting on the surface like a deep well of liquid glass
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the pensieve. The cold blankness in his features terrified her for a moment but it was gone when he slipped his hand into hers and gripped her hand tightly. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before they both dipped their heads into the surface.
***
2 Months After the Battle of Hogwarts
“She’s here.”
Draco took one more moment staring out the window at the white peacocks grazing, stark against the dark shrubs and graying light. The air was frigid, laced with a fragile kind of quietness. Finally, he turned and dipped his head in recognition of his mother’s words.
Narcissa stood before him, elegant and composed in her deep emerald robes. Despite her calm demeanor he saw a flicker of worry in her eyes as she searched his face, landing on the cut on his cheekbones. Despite having cleaned up directly after returning from completing one of the Dark Lord’s tasks, his mother looked at him as if she could still see the blood and dirt on his hands.
It had been a week since the Dark Lord announced the decree for purebloods to produce heirs. Those unwed were encouraged to pair with other purebloods and comply with the order. It was an act to cleanse the magical world, the Dark Lord said, a way to bring pure blood and restore power to their people.
“Draco, look at me, please,” his mother commanded softly.
“Yes, mother.” He walked towards her, hands behind his back as he twitched the Malfoy ring on his finger. He was Lord of the Manor now, his connection to the estate and the power it held more potent in his veins. But even then, it felt tainted. He could feel the echoes of the Dark Lord’s touch in the very foundations and walls. And perhaps that’s why the manor had welcomed him, called to him so easily when he had taken over — it recognized the stain of darkness in his magic, in his very flesh.
“Your father won't be there for the ceremony,” Draco caught a slight tremor in her voice. “He’s resting — the Dark Lord was unhappy with his performance in Bulgaria.”
Draco didn’t reply, not needing to know how far their family had fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord. Ever since his father was broken out of Azkaban, he was a shell of the man he had once been. Consequently, Draco was intended to be the punishment for his family’s failures. Like a lamb to the slaughter, they waited for him to fail in his duties to the Dark Lord. But he did not.
He did what he needed to, even if it meant taking on his father’s role and becoming more ruthless, unyielding. In this new world, the only currency was power. His mother knew it too. She had known that nothing would keep them safe unless they took that power for themselves. She had known, even if it meant letting her son train under the wing of his aunt, the right hand of the Dark Lord himself, until the Dark Arts became second nature, until he could cast an unforgivable curse without any hesitation.
Show me, nephew, how much Black blood is truly in your veins.
“Her name is Astoria from the Greengrass family,” Narcissa began as she smoothed her robes. Her alexandrite engagement ring glinted on her finger, turning from green to red in the light. “I believe Daphne was in your year.”
Draco nodded.
“Astoria is the younger sister — a year below yours — but she’s polite and has the markings of a well bred pureblood witch,” Narcissa said clinically. “She’s waiting for us in the sitting room. When you’re ready.”
The first thing Draco noticed when he entered the sitting room with his mother was that the witch before him looked young. He recognized some similarities between her and her sister, in the icy blue of their eyes, wheat colored hair, and sharpness of their cheekbones. Objectively, she was pretty. But there was a frailness to her as she might break any second.
Astoria held an air of grace around her, a testament to her upper class breeding and etiquette. She knew when to speak, when to laugh, how to stir her cup and lift it to her lips without a single noise. She was agreeable, the embodiment of the makings of a pureblood wife.
“And your sister, I heard she’s been matched too,” Narcissa said, as she took a sip of her tea.
“Indeed,” Astoria responded. “She’s had the pleasure of being matched with Graham Montague, who is a close family friend of ours. They were intended together while at Hogwarts so it was only natural, of course.”
Draco let the conversation take its course, politely answering any questions directed at him. He observed them as if he was behind glass. Even though the Dark Lord had left their manor, he couldn’t help but still feel the lingering sense of dread as he walked through the walls. He kept his occlumency walls in place even in his own home. It had become easier to keep his mind at a distance, to compartmentalize every thought and feeling until it was second nature to him.
“Oh, how lovely,” Astoria’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. On Narcissa’s palm sat a yellow diamond ring, cushioned on a small black velvet box.
“Draco,” Narcissa murmured. Promptly, Draco took the ring and slipped it onto Astoria’s slim finger. The band of the ring shrunk to fit precisely on her finger.
Astoria blushed and thanked him but Draco was focused on the ring. He vaguely recognized it as a Malfoy heirloom from the vaults. True enough, his mother still wore the alexandrite engagement ring his father had given her. It was pureblood custom for the mother to pass on her engagement ring to the heir and take on a new ring. But this only happened if she approved of the witch and the union. He found it curious, given that he had let his mother arrange the match.
As his mother began to discuss ceremonial details with Astoria, Draco excused himself.
***
The marriage took place the next day — a quick ceremony in the Malfoy gardens. Astoria wasn’t feeling well and much to Draco’s relief, they did not consummate their marriage. She had retired quickly to her room situated in her own wing of the manor.
The following day, the Dark Lord gave Draco charge of successive raids for Order members. The sparse moments he was back in between tasks, he sat with his mother and wife for meals, but other than that he and Astoria kept their distance as she still seemed to be feeling ill. On days Astoria felt more recovered, under his mother’s insistence, he sometimes took his wife on walks in the garden. They spoke on trivial customary topics until eventually there was nothing left to say, or he was summoned again.
On some nights, Draco returned home with his mind almost in shreds after the Dark Lord had searched through them. But more often, he came home with blood that was not his own. On those nights, he sometimes noticed Astoria watching his return from her window. He did not know what to make of watching, nor did he care.
“Draco?”
Draco looked up, his hand on the balustrade of the marble staircase. Astoria stood on the top of the staircase in her lace dressing gown, illuminated by the watery moonlight emanating from the windows. There was a paleness to her, stark against the looming shadows that accented her cheekbones making her look almost wraithlike. In the moment, her beauty was like that of a pressed flower.
“They sent a healer — to check if I’m pregnant.”
Draco’s jaw clenched. He took the last few steps, coming into the light. Astoria shivered from the dark magic emanating from him. The blood from his recent raid was still fresh on his dragon-leather gear.
“I’ll handle it,” he responded.
With hesitation, Astoria approached him. There was a tremor in her fingers as she lifted her hand and placed it on his arm. His eyes cut directly towards her. She recoiled. Draco noticed the tremble in her lip, nervousness in her eyes — no it was not nervousness. It was fear.
It was the first genuine emotion he had seen from her. Draco could not deny that there was a certain cruel satisfaction in being seen for what he truly was. There was something about the dark that revealed the truth hidden in the light.
“Not tonight.” Draco walked past her, not missing her soft exhale followed by her light footsteps receding into the shadows.
***
“The Dark Lord, how — how is he?” Draco froze from where he was pouring a drink of firewhiskey in his study after his encounter with Astoria. Slowly, he put down the decanter then downed his drink before turning around.
“Father,” Draco said curtly as he stared passively at the man before him. His face was rugged and hollow, eyes bloodshot. Lucius looked like a ghost, his once proud shoulders now hunched and timid. From somewhere behind his occlumency walls, a distant pang went through Draco upon seeing someone he once looked up to reduced to such. But his father had made his choices and forced them onto his wife and son. And all Draco could do was pay for the sins of his father.
“Your mother told me that the Dark Lord has been sending you on personal tasks,” Lucius rasped. “That’s good, very good, son. You must please him, whatever he asks — ”
“You think I don’t know that?” Draco hissed, his occlumency walls cracking. “Do you think I have a choice?” Lucius opened his mouth to reply but Draco cut him off. “You know what the Death Eaters are starting to call me? The Dark Lord’s Hound because I’m nothing but his bitch that does his bidding.”
“Power, Draco, we do what we must to claim our rightful place — ”
Draco laughed humorlessly.
“Wake up, father ! Does this look like power to you?” he spat, arms spread, showing his father the blood and dirt smeared on his suit.
“Draco, I — I’m sorry.” Lucius gulped, his face crumpling as if genuinely lost.
Draco dropped his arms, a cool numbness calming him as he slipped back into his occlumency. There is a meadow where a manor with many doors stands. And in the manor, there is a door. A door that has been there before the manor, before the meadow.
“Well, thank you but I’m not sure what to do with that,” Draco replied before leaving the room.
For the rest of the week, Draco volunteered for every mission and task the Dark Lord needed. He had played the game long enough to know how to survive and gain the Dark Lord’s favor. And it paid off. With a cold ruthlessness, he captured Order members, raided wizarding villages, and hunted down escaped prisoners. He wielded himself like a weapon until every Death Eater learned to only speak his names in whispers.
And when they took over the ministry, Draco was by his side. The Dark Lord’s power had spread rapidly, almost too easily. The seeds of corruption had already been sown and ingrained into the very system that advocated for justice and peace. Too easily did people in the wizarding world wear their prejudices proudly, unquestioningly registering muggleborns and putting them into their supposed place in the world. And he had been right there, making it happen.
It became easy turning it all off and living a kind of half-life where he didn’t have to feel or care. All he knew was survival. That numbness was all he knew, and it became a part of him, until he no longer knew the lines between what the war made him to be and who he truly was; of which part was the mask and which part was the man.
***
“I’m sorry about your father,” Blaise’s calm voice sounded after he had taken a long sip from his glass. “An ambush, I heard.”
“It was,” Draco replied.
Draco, I — I’m sorry.
His mother had simply held his hand when they covered his father’s casket in the family tomb. Draco could still see his father’s peaceful repose, his white-blond hair combed and clean — he had looked younger, almost as he had remembered his father before the war.
It had only been him and his mother at the small ceremony. But even then, his mother held a sense of dignity, not letting herself break as she whispered her last goodbyes.
They’ve been asking for updates on the girl, Draco , his mother had said once they left the family crypt. Her voice was as hollow and cold as the tomb where his father lay. The Dark Lord will be expecting news soon.
I have it handled, mother .
“Do you have what I asked for?”
Blaise held his gaze for a moment, then sighed. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a vial with a lilac substance in it.
“This was the only vial Theo managed to smuggle out of his father’s supplies,” Blaise explained, his face flickering with evident disgust at the mention of Theo’s father as he handed it over. “It’s strong so one sip is enough for it to take full effect.”
Blaise seemed to hesitate as Draco turned the vial in his hands.
“Mate, talk to me. You’ve been shutting us all out and now out of the blue you ask for a lust potion. If you need help…”
“I can handle it,” his voice was cold, distant.
“The lust potion has certain… effects as you know,” Blaise said warily.
“I am aware.”
He didn’t miss the way Blaise’s features tensed worriedly. “The Dark Lord is putting the pressure on then?”
Draco nodded wordlessly. Shaking his head, Blaise downed his drink before snapping his fingers and using his magic to refill his glass.
“How’s Pansy?”
Blaise’s face hardened, pain flickering in his eyes.
“She’s recovering,” he whispered.
“I meant to visit, but lately the Dark Lord he — ”
Blaise held a hand up to stop him.
“You don’t need to explain yourself. I understand. We all do.” Blaise sighed. “I’ve heard the stories about what you’ve been doing for him. I know the pressure you’re under — Pans and I have known since sixth year,” he smiled ruefully. “Just remember we’re here, yeah?”
There was a tense silence before Draco’s Dark Mark burned. “I’m being summoned.”
Not waiting for a response, he disapparated.
***
“Astoria,” Draco said cautiously, standing as she entered his study, wringing her fingers.
Draco’s focus went to her furrowed brow and grim line of her lips. Her eyes darted anywhere except for him. “Draco,” she replied, almost distracted.
He’d seen her in passing during the last couple of days after he had returned from Belgium on an assignment from the Dark Lord. Had he paid more attention, he would have noticed her sickly pallor and bags under her eyes. His mother had informed him that her condition was worsening. At the news, Draco had made sure the elves supplied her with what she needed and also enlisted a personal healer. Yet her bones protruded, looking more frail than ever. Even more, he couldn't help but notice something else in her expression this time.
“Is there something wrong?”
She cleared her throat daintily before stepping closer. She smelled faintly of burnt sugar, ash, and a sweet sickly scent. Ironlof root and sulfrite beetle wings , he noted. He recognized it as a strong potion for treating blood maladies.
“It has come to my attention,” she began, “that we are to house some of the Dark Lord’s prisoners in the dungeons?”
“Indeed,” Draco replied carefully. There were certain prisoners the Dark Lord entrusted to him for questioning, the ones he suspected worked for the Order. They had arrived just that morning.
“One of these prisoners,” she hesitated, “he was captured because he tried to infiltrate my home?”
“Raul Barlow,” Draco replied, studying her expression. She swallowed before blinking back unshed tears. Ah . “Muggleborn, charged with trying to infiltrate the Greengrass estate. Suspected Order member.”
Astoria’s face crumpled, her usual composure shattering. Unsure of what to do, he felt a slight discomfort as the witch sobbed into her hands. Quietly, he waved his wand, conjuring a handkerchief and floated it towards her.
“Thank you. I — I…” her face paled in fear upon realizing her confession. “Oh Salazar, please please don’t tell anyone I know him! I swear I had no idea he was going to come for me — that’s all he wanted! He’s not an Order member, please don’t — ”
Draco lifted his hand and stopped her. “Your secret is safe.”
Astoria sagged in relief.
“However, I can’t save him or make any promises,” he added. “The Dark Lord is keeping a tight watch on everyone.”
Astoria finally met his eyes, and he was almost startled with what he found in them — gratitude. And hope. “Thank you.”
Notes:
A/N: Helloooo! Yes it’s kinda short but this whole flashback sequence will span two more chapters. I’ll admit, editing these parts was difficult and I had to be super careful. It’s tricky balancing the third person distancing as well as sometimes going into Draco’s perspective. We will have a proper chapter in the present time for Hermione and Draco to discuss what happened, and some of the lingering trauma Draco has experienced. It is important to remember that all the characters here are not perfect — they are all flawed and on some sort of personal journey.
Thank you all again for your support — it really keeps me motivated not just to write but to go on existing in the real world. Love you all!! 🥺
Chapter 33: Chapter XXXII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went — and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light.”
— Lord Byron
“The muggleborn, Raul, was Astoria’s lover,” Hermione blurted out breathlessly as the present world came back into focus.
“He was,” Draco replied. “He had lived in the muggle town near the Greengrass estate. Astoria told me they were secretly childhood friends and he never attended Hogwarts — his parents were frightened by his magic and the magical world. So Astoria taught him over the summers. Eventually, they fell in love. And when the Dark Lord won, she sent him into hiding. But when he had heard she was going to be married off as a part of the decree, he sought to help her escape but he was caught.”
Hermione’s heart twisted, seeing Astoria’s delicate face full of sorrow in her mind. Another casualty in this war.
“And she was already sick.” Hermione recalled Astoria’s sickly pallor and mentions of her illness. The Order report on Draco when he had first arrived also mentioned it.
“Blood maledictus. None of us knew. She eventually came clean not long after the conversation you just saw when for days she couldn’t even get out of bed.”
“Then — then she knew that if she got pregnant, she wouldn’t survive.”
“She knew.” Draco swallowed, searching her eyes as if memorizing them for the last time.
Hermione waited for him to say more, but he looked away.
“I won't be joining you for the next one.”
Hermione startled at his words, unsure of what to make of them. He was silent as he extracted the current memory in the pensieve and replaced it with the next one. His face was ghostly white, a controlled blankness over his features.
The luminous substance of the memory swirled in the basin. Hermione tried to catch Draco’s gaze but he seemed to be avoiding her.
“The lust potion… '' Hermione knew its effects — those who ingested it lost control of their bodies and minds. It was used by Death Eaters to make their victims willing and susceptible to perform sexual acts without their consent. It was used for rape.
Draco didn't seem surprised at the fearful look in her eyes.
“Did you… did she…”
“Please, Hermione. Just watch,” he said softly. “We’ll talk after.”
Hermione’s fingers curled, feeling empty and cold without his touch. But she respected his wishes. Dread seeped through her as she dipped back into the pensieve.
***
4 Months After the Battle of Hogwarts
“ Crucio !”
Draco’s teeth rattled when the curse hit him. Every single one of his nerves felt electrified, as if pure lightning entered his veins. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the world full of nothing but white-hot pain.
“Tell me, both of you,” the Dark Lord’s calm venomous voice echoed, “how it's possible for a single muggleborn witch to infiltrate one of our facilities, steal information, and leave undetected?”
“M-my Lord,” Avery stuttered, “She didn’t leave a trace! We weren’t aware — ”
Avery’s words were cut off with a blood curdling scream when the Dark Lord hit him with another curse. Draco kept his head lowered from where he knelt. Avery’s screams continued on but Draco ignored it, regulating his breathing, focusing on his reflection in the black marble floor below him. Blood and sweat dripped from the wet tendrils of white-blond hair that fell across his forehead. He stared at the man reflected back at him in the black mirror, pale and indifferent even as the screams continued. His fingertips twitched with the lingering effects of the cruciatus .
“Stand,” the Dark Lord hissed.
Draco obeyed, as Avery, still twitching on the ground, staggered to his feet. Draco kept his eyes lowered and watched Avery’s blood spill across the black marble. His own magic quivered defensively as the Dark Lord approached, sensing the dark magic pulsing from him. It was unnatural, malignant, and almost alive.
“Avery,” the Dark Lord lifted the man’s chin with his wand. “Tell me — what does the Dark Mark on your arm represent?”
Avery swallowed. “Power?”
The Dark Lord grinned, his crimson eyes glittering. “That is one. But what is the other?”
Avery kept his eyes shut as the elder wand dug more firmly in his thick neck. When Avery didn’t answer, the Dark Lord turned to Draco. “Draco?”
Draco looked up, eyes void as met the face of Harry Potter. It was the same face with red eyes and unruly dark hair. But it was edged with a cruelty, a hunger for violence that had never been there before
“Loyalty.”
“Indeed.” Avery’s eyes blew wide in panic.
“My lord, I swear I never — ”
“ Silence ,” he hissed, sending Avery to his knees. “There has been suspicion for weeks about how the Order has been able to target some of our most guarded locations. There is a rat.”
“My lord, it could have been Malfoy,” Avery spat, “his father was a disappointment just like he will be — ”
Before Avery could finish his sentence, he was thrown backwards then hit with another cruciatus . The Dark Lord lowered his wand. “I said silence .”
The man nodded, curling to his side.
“In fact, it was Draco’s idea to share differing information on where the new facility would be to each Death Eater we suspected turned coat for the Order. The location Hermione Granger infiltrated was a setup and only you thought that was the real location.”
Avery paled. “I — ”
“Draco,” the Dark Lord stood back, eyes holding a cold amusement as Draco stepped forward and lifted his wand.
Avery looked directly into his eyes, pleading as he searched for some kind of mercy.
Draco did not hesitate. “ Avada Kedavra !”
***
Hermione Granger was a problem.
“How many of the artifacts were salvaged?” Draco’s fist curled around his wand as he stared out at the remains of their warehouse that had been warded thickly and guarded so deeply but was now was left in rubles. It was where they had stored their weaponized supplies such as potions, dark artifacts, and experimental explosives they were working on.
“None,” the Death Eater reporting to him bit out nervously.
Hermione Granger had leveled their warehouse to dust, having almost left without a trace if it wasn’t for one of the guards that had caught a glimpse of her before she slipped out. The Gryffindor he had known back in Hogwarts had become a larger player in the war even without her two best friends. The war seemed to have awakened — or perhaps killed — something in her.
Draco raised his wand to expect the damaged wards. The wards were supposed to be impenetrable, inaccessible — even by the guards. Any tampering would cause a direct alarm to him.
“You,” Draco said sharply to one of the more senior guards that was sporting nasty burns. “How did she get close enough to the wards?”
“I found her somewhere between the north and east posts, working on something with the wards before it exploded from within. We’re not sure how she dismantled them — ”
“She didn’t dismantle the wards, she added on to it.” Draco’s jaw ticked as he unraveled the magical trace of what she had done. Layering wards was tricky and sensitive. Instead of dismantling them, she destabilized the wards by adding runes to them. In effect, it reversed the spellwork to react inward so that any tampering would cause all the wards to trigger and explode from within.
“Clever,” he muttered.
“Where was Greengrave?” Draco asked suddenly, spotting the exact location she had done her work. They remained silent. “From the trace she left behind and the post assignments, he should have covered the area she had access to.”
Greengrave was pushed forward. The new recruit’s face split into a cocky smile but it did nothing to hide the hint of panic in his eyes.
“Lord Malfoy, you’ve summoned me.”
“Where were you when Hermione Granger attacked?”
“Erm you see, I was on a little break with some mudblood whore I found lurking in the muggle town nearby — ”
Draco’s eyes narrowed before he twisted his wrist, wandlessly causing Greengrave to his knees. An invisible force took hold of his neck and the recruit clawed at his throat.
“The Dark Lord will not be happy with this. With all of you.”
All their faces paled at his warning. Draco sighed as dark magic thrummed at his fingertips. He could not return to the Dark Lord without exacting punishment.
“ Ignis sanguis, ” he whispered.
Screams filled the air as their blood boiled in their own skin.
***
Just before dawn, as pale light peaked through the black line of trees in the distant horizon, the manor greeted Draco upon his return. The manor walls were silent as he proceeded towards the dungeons, half filled with prisoners from the war. Once he reached an isolated cell, he was unsurprised to find two forms on the small cot.
At his approach, the man stirred, noticing him.
“I’ve tried telling her to stop sneaking in,” the man, Raul Barlow, muttered groggily, keeping his voice low enough so as not to wake her. “But she refuses to listen.”
The gray light of pre-dawn touched his features from the single celled window, illuminating the fresh cuts and bruises on his face. It rendered him almost unrecognizable from the man they had brought in with blond curls and a boyish face.
“Tippie,” Draco called.
The house-elf he had assigned Astoria apparated in. “Yes, master,” she bowed.
“Please bring Astoria back to her room.”
“Yes, master,” the elf squeaked, apparating inside the cell before gently levitating her mistress and disappearing with a muted pop .
“The Death Eater you left in charge while you were gone — nice guy. Doesn’t even take off his Death Eater mask. That’s the dedicated type of bloke,” despite his swollen face, Raul grinned. Regardless, Draco didn’t miss the wince of pain. “He has even more emotion than you. You should take more trips and have him watch over us more often. Would like my left eye to be the same pulpy size as the right — really get that froggy look that I’m certain Tori will find adorable.”
Draco stared at him blankly before entering the cell. Waving his hand, he lit a single torch as Raul deposited himself on his cot.
“You would save yourself from trouble if you kept your mouth shut around him,” Draco drawled.
Raul frowned and went to argue but Draco waved his wand sharply and reset Raul’s dislocated shoulder. Raul winced.
“How are the wounds?”
“Just a little bruised,” Raul grinned again before grunting when Draco set his nose back in place. “How’s Tori? She tells me she’s getting better but I can tell when she’s lying.”
“I’ve assigned her a healer and so far she’s stable and regaining her strength,” Draco pointed his wand to Raul’s eye and healed it. “That’s the extent I can do without raising suspicion.”
Raul blinked, blue eyes focusing on him with a more serious look. “Thank you.”
“I have tried to advise Astoria to limit her visits especially when I’m gone. If it was someone other than me who made a visit at this hour…” Draco warned.
Raul shook his head. “I tried to tell her I was fine after the Death Eater you left in charge had a chat with me, but she refused to leave when she saw the damage.”
Draco inhaled deeply. He would have to inform the house-elves to keep an eye out for anyone possibly discovering Astoria when she overslept in Raul’s cell again.
“How was your day, my lord?”
Despite his blank look, Raul, unfettered, winked at him. He reminded him of Theo. “Busy.”
Raul raked his hand through his curly blood-matted hair. “The Dark Knight, saving other damsels in distress such as myself, no doubt. But of course, you always come home to me.”
“Lucky you,” Draco responded drily.
“What would they say!” Raul gasped. “Raul Barlow — suspected Order member and filthy mudblood, rumored to be frequently visited in the late night by Lord Malfoy’s wife… and Lord Malfoy too!”
“Don’t push it, Barlow.”
“You see why Tori loves me.”
“Not quite.”
Draco threw him a vial pain potion before the man could reply. He turned to leave, but Raul stopped him.
“Thank you. Again.”
Draco nodded and continued his way out.
***
“It’s ready.”
Astoria froze from where she was sitting by the windowsill. She coughed daintily, trying to muffle the sound with an embroidered handkerchief but Draco could hear the dry rasp in her lungs.
“Here,” he said, offering her a vial with green liquid. Astoria gave him a watery smile before taking a sip. A few moments later, her breathing smoothened out.
“Thank you,” she replied in a soft voice. She got up and Draco offered his arm as he helped her take a seat on the chaise.
Ever since she had broken down in his office, a quiet understanding settled between them. Eventually, she revealed the blood maledictus that plagued her family line, but she did so with a kind of tranquil acceptance. It had been in her family for centuries and she had always known about it.
I’m not afraid , she had shrugged, even though this pregnancy will kill me.
They hadn’t really spoken, except in passing, since that conversation. They never spoke about Raul’s healed cuts, how the prison guards left the cells at midnight, nor the bags under her eyes when she slipped back into her room in the early mornings. She had never said anything nor asked his motives, seemingly to come to some conclusion on her own. Sometimes he caught her eyeing him curiously across the dinner table, but she kept whatever she was thinking to herself.
“Tell me again how it works?” she asked as Draco placed two bottles before her.
“You already know of the lust potion that has been circling around the Death Eater circles,” he began, an underlying distaste in his voice. “It took a month, but I finally broke down the components and extracted the parts that would work for the libido and nothing else. It would simply work as a stimulant to make it… less painful for you and… possible for me to perform my duty.”
“A - and I’ll still be conscious in my own mind?”
“Yes. Unlike the lust potion, you’ll retain full control of yourself, your thoughts, and feelings. You can say ‘no’ or make it stop if it's too much.” Draco rolled the libido potion in his palms, the saturated pink pearlescent hue nauseous to the eye.
Astoria nodded silently.
“The second is a fertility potion. I’ll be taking one as well.” Astoria plucked the bottle with the lavender substance and examined it. “These two potions along with the basic Occlumency my mother taught you should help.”
A tense silence came between them as they both contemplated what was going to happen that night.
“Thank you,” Astoria whispered.
She hesitated before placing her hand on top of his. Her hand was cold.
Draco dipped his chin in acknowledgment before pulling away.
***
TRIGGER WARNING: Forced sex/impregnation. (If you want to skip this part, you can go straight to the next section.)
The water droplets clinked loudly as they dripped from the sink, reminding Draco of the thick trickle of blood on metal. Draco looked up into the mirror, barely recognizing the pale waxy face staring back at him. The sick feeling in his stomach heightened. This type of intimacy was foreign to him and it was going to happen like this — both of them unwilling, under the Dark Lord’s orders, bred like fucking animals.
For most of the time, he had been able to lock it up, compartmentalize his feelings. He told himself to treat it like those missions he was sent on, those people he was ordered to torture and kill. But this felt different.
With shaky fingers, he tipped the first bottle into his mouth — the fertility potion. It went down easily, a smooth concoction that tasted like pomegranates and barley. He felt no change. Next, he took the bottle filled with the pink pearlescent substance — the libido potion. He took a single sip, liquid warmth immediately seeping through his body. Draco winced uncomfortably as a flush of heat spread through him, his breathing coming heavy. He looked at his reflection again, finding his eyes so dilated his pupils were almost black.
Despite his body reacting accordingly to the libido potion, a sickening panic bolted through him. Immediately, he called upon his occlumency walls, brick by brick, doors sealing and shutting, walling out every emotion until all that was left was a blankness. He inhaled deeply before stepping out of the bathroom.
The smell of burnt sugar, ash, and a sick sweetness immediately overwhelmed him, causing him to pause for a moment.
Finally, he looked up.
Astoria lay in her bed, looking almost as if she were in a slumber of death. Her eyes were shut as she lay underneath the duvet with her hands rigidly by her side, completely clothed in a white sleeping gown.
“Have you taken them? ”
“Yes,” she responded, eerily calm.
Carefully, Draco lifted the covers, avoiding to look at her face as he settled between her legs. Her body tensed and she shivered before she clinically lifted her nightgown. Neither of them chose to remove their clothes.
“Ready?” Draco rasped.
“Yes,” she replied, screwing her eyes shut.
Draco winced when he entered her. Her face twisted in discomfort as he broke through her maidenhood. He looked away before moving under the sheets, trying to keep his occlumency walls in place. Every movement caused both physical pleasure and disgust. He heard her sniffing under him and he felt bile rise in his throat as he caught her face screwed tight, tears pooling down her cheeks. She looked so young and frightened — it sickened him. This , this is what he was, what he had been reduced to.
A war raged inside of him as the potion heightened its effects. Unable to fully control his body, the need for physical pleasure and release burned higher, pushing him further until all he could hear was the harsh sound of their bodies against each other and her cries of pain below him. Finally, with a pained hiss, he finished inside of her.
The next thing he knew, Draco was heaving into the toilet bowl, vaguely realizing he had apparated to his own bedroom. Something in him finally broke, something cracked in his shields. He had never felt so disgusted and violated for what he had just done. He had fucking raped her.
Draco heaved again into the toilet bowl, shaking as he emptied himself.
***
The manor was silent as he made his way down the stone steps to the dungeons. He had not slept — unable to close his eyes without seeing Astoria's face or feeling a sickly sensation engulf him.
He blinked slowly as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the cellar. The dungeons were sparse, most of the prisoners already transferred except for half a dozen muggleborns.
He did not know what had brought him there but he found himself at Raul’s cell. Upon seeing two figures entwined on the cot, he stepped back, intending to leave when one of the figures stirred and quietly called out to him. Draco stood still as a shadowy figure came into the milky light behind the bars.
Despite Raul’s grayish pallor, his blue eyes were bright. Draco had expected something akin to rage or disgust in his eyes, had almost wanted to see. Because some fucked up part of him wanted that confirmation of the truth of what he was: a killer, a monster, a rapist. But instead, he saw something else — pity.
Draco hesitated. “Regarding last night, I — ”
“Stop,” Raul said firmly, without any malice or anger. “I know that you were both forced to do what you had to do.”
His words echoed in the silence along with Astoria’s deep breathing. Draco looked away, unable to meet his eyes despite his words.
“She’s afraid you know — to be a mother. But I know she will be wonderful,” Raul spoke with a softness in his expression as if he could imagine it. Raul’s eyes shuttered. “I know I won’t live long enough to see it, but I want you to promise me something.”
Draco stilled. Raul spoke as if Astoria would live, as if she would return to full health and live long enough to be a mother. Suddenly it was clear — Astoria never told him that her sickness was getting worse, that the pregnancy would kill her, that Draco had not only violated her, but sent her to her death.
“It brings me peace knowing that she will live and be safe. That is enough for me if I never make it out of this.” Raul’s gaze was on him now, deep and sincere. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
Draco opened his mouth to say something but instead he stood there like a wolf with the blood of a lamb still fresh on his coat.
Raul seemed to take his silence as an acceptance of his promise and with a relieved look, turned back to the woman he loved.
***
“I’m pregnant.”
Draco paused in the foyer, looking up from where he had just taken off his blood soaked cloak. He blinked once, then again as Astoria descended the steps.
“The healer came over this morning and she confirmed it.”
He said nothing as the information sank in. It felt so distant to him — the idea of an actual child coming to being.
“Draco… ” A light hand landed on his arm and he flinched. Although she promptly removed her touch, bile still rose in his throat. It had been a week since they had first attempted to conceive and he still couldn’t look at her. Every time he did, all he could remember was that night, her face in pain as he violated her, the sick pleasure and pain of completing the act.
Draco nodded stoically. “I’ll have my mother arrange the necessary preparations.”
Astoria opened her mouth to speak but seemed to find something in his face that made her change her mind. When she remained silent, Draco bid her good night and walked away.
***
The months passed and Draco climbed the ranks, gaining more and more of the Dark Lord’s favor. No one questioned his place anymore nor his loyalty. Some still sneered and spoke behind his back, but they never dared disobey his commands or leadership.
He was back at the manor less and less — his mother helped Astoria with her pregnancy and sickness. When he briefly visited, he caught only flashes of Astoria confined in her room, her sickness progressing rapidly as well as her pregnancy. Every time he saw the swell of her stomach, he blanched. It looked almost parasitical as if it was feeding on her very life force, a reminder of what had happened between them and who he had become.
The last time he saw her, she was four months pregnant, laying weakly in her room. She had requested his presence, thanking him for letting Raul visit her since she could not. Draco had merely nodded, asking her if there was anything else she needed before he was summoned by the Dark Lord again.
Sometimes he would catch Astoria and Raul in the cells. He would watch from the shadows as they whispered words and promises to each other, her frail fingers trembling on the bars, and her growing stomach between them. And perhaps it was out of curiosity that he sometimes stayed to observe them — because he didn’t understand it. What they had, what they were risking was simultaneously foolish, dangerous, irrational, and yet… he could not deny there was something in the persevering look in Raul’s beaten face, the determination in Astoria’s hollow eyes, and the softness in which they held onto each other as if what they had was stronger than the war and what they had both gone through.
“Draco, it's urgent,” Narcissa’s voice called out from her patronus — a swan that shimmered in the dark room Draco was staying at in Bulgaria. Immediately, he took his portkey to the manor.
“Draco,” Narcissa called out with relief. “Mulciber just came and the prisoners — ”
Draco cursed. “Astoria?” he asked, as he made his way towards the dungeons.
“I gave her a Sleeping Draught. She’s in her room,” Narcissa said, keeping her composure as she followed him down the damp halls.
It was too late by the time they reached the dungeons. A dozen Death Eaters were in the room and all the prisoners were dead.
***
“This is how we met you know,” Astoria’s voice floated over the breeze, gentle and distant.
Draco watched silently as she twirled twin yellow hibiscus flowers in her fingers. He had found her here, by the river near the manor the morning after Raul was killed.
“He was so afraid,” she chuckled fondly. “We were seven and he had run away from home that day when he realized he had magic. He didn’t understand it and he was afraid. And so to save his family, he thought he would do the noble thing and leave. Then I noticed him watching me as I played with the flowers near the stream by our estate. He warned me to stay back when I approached him! He was so scared he would hurt me and said he did things he couldn't control.”
Draco observed the fond expression on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, evidence of tears. But she smiled brightly at the memory.
“He was perplexed when I laughed — thought I was mad. But when I hovered a flower between my palms, he realized he wasn’t the only one. I explained to him what magic was and the rest was history. His parents were still afraid and never approved of his magic but we always snuck out to meet each other at our spot by the stream,” Astoria placed some petals on the water, watching them float gently away on the water’s surface. “I taught him magic, he told me stories about muggles. They live such simple lives it amazed me.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?” Draco murmured, unable to stop himself, “Why didn’t you tell him the pregnancy would kill you?”
Promise me you’ll take care of her .
Astoria shrugged. “I didn’t want him to worry anymore. It was all borrowed time.” Her eyes finally lifted and settled on his face, looking him directly in the eyes. “I’m not afraid, Draco — I knew how it would end.”
She looked so much older then, as if she had been alive much longer than she should have, as if she was ready to move on from this lifetime. Picking up another flower, she brushed her fingers along its petals.
“I was supposed to get him out.” Astoria’s head snapped up, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “I tried to hold off on having him and the others sent out to the other prisons but Mulciber was getting suspicious. I had no idea they were coming.”
“It’s alright, Draco.” He stared at her perplexed when she just smiled at him. “Raul and I knew our time was limited. We were happy with our borrowed time.”
Astoria turned back to the river. Silently, she placed twin yellow hibiscus flowers into the river. They watched as the stream gently flowed and the flowers disappeared out of sight.
Notes:
A/N: I know, I know I’m soooooo late. This chapter was difficult for me in the sense that it took a lot of re-writing and re-editing to try and get it right. I had to be careful about the narrative distancing with Draco’s POV, the new characters like Raul, and all the complex relationships between them all in one chapter. I hope you guys ‘liked’ this chapter as much as one can like it since it's quite dark and depressing. Hoping to get the next one still on time!
Chapter 34: Chapter XXXIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“We’re each of us alone, to be sure.
What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark?”
— Ursula K. Le Guin
Hermione gasped as she was spat out of the pensieve and gripped the edges of the basin for balance. A firm hand on her lower back steadied her but it was gone before she could properly register her surroundings. Looking up, she was met with Draco’s guarded face. He looked at her with a kind of expectancy, as if waiting for her to react, to recoil.
Hermione blinked back tears, feeling overwhelmed at what she just witnessed. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.
“I — ” she began.
“Let’s get on to the last one shall we?” Draco said quietly, face shuttering as he avoided her gaze and switched out the memory for the last one. Before she could muster a word, he dipped into the pensieve.
***
15 Months After the Battle of Hogwarts
“It’s a boy,” Narcissa breathed, swaddling the wailing child while the midwife gave Astoria a blood replenishing potion. Draco stood stoic and silent on the other side of the room, briefly catching a glimpse of sparse white-blond hair in the watery mid-morning light. “Do you want to hold him?”
Astoria’s eyes fluttered shut as the baby let out another cry. “No,” she responded weakly.
Narcissa looked at her sadly after a pause and held the child closer. “We’ll get him cleaned up then,” she said gently then left with the midwife.
“Draco?” Astoria called out, breaking him out of his stupor. He neared her bedside and finally looked at her. She looked even more sickly than he last saw her. Her cheeks were hollow, a grayish hue to her skin. But there was a certain peace to her now in her quiet repose, and drooping eyes.
“I’m here,” he said, when her eyes remained unfocused.
She smiled softly, eyes finally focusing on him. “We knew this was coming, Draco,” she sighed. “I thought when the moment came I would feel the fear I’m supposed to, but I don’t. I just feel tired.”
Her face took on a dreamy expression, her eyes unseeing again.
“It’s a little selfish isn’t it?” she chuckled lightly, which turned into a violent cough. He came closer, helping her take another potion to smoothen out her breathing. But they both knew, there was nothing they could do to prevent the inevitable.
Draco’s fist curled around the potion bottle, the cold weight of it between his palms. “No, I don’t think it’s selfish.”
Suddenly, she grabbed his sleeve, her frail fingers fisting into the material. Her eyes were hesitant, something that looked like guilt in it. “I — I’m not ready to be a mother. Even if I survived I wouldn’t know how else to be a mother other than how I’ve been raised. I wouldn’t want that for our son.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears at the sudden confession “Your mother said that mothers are supposed to feel a bond with their child. But I – I can’t. I don’t. I couldn’t feel anything during the pregnancy, and now I still don’t feel anything but relief that it’s over. Does that make me a monster, Draco?”
Astoria searched his eyes as if she could find the answer in them. This was his fault. His fucking fault. She could have had more time. He could have gotten Raul out. He could have done something to get them out. Maybe then she could have had a future that she would want to fight harder to live for, a family with the man she loved and a child that she wanted.
He did not blame her for her relief. Neither could he blame her for not feeling ready. He felt the same.
“No it doesn’t,” he said firmly. “Especially after how — after I — ”
“Stop.” She smiled ruefully at him. “You’re a good man, Draco. I hold nothing against you for what happened. You are a victim in this war too.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her breathing labored.
Draco looked away. He did not know what to say or do, could only watch.
Promise me you’ll take care of her.
“Astoria, I — ”
“Let our son know that I do love him even if it’s in the only way a mother can when she is young and unprepared. Even if I lived, I don’t think I could have cared for him the way he deserved or raised him other than the way a pureblood parent would have. Do better for him, Draco,” she said desperately, “I will always be grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And Raul. I know you’ll do what’s right. There’s more kindness in you than you let yourself believe.”
Astoria searched his eyes until seeming to find what she was looking for then relaxed.
“I’m ready to join Raul now,” she whispered, letting go of his sleeve. “Is it selfish of me to feel relieved that I’ll be gone? But I think you and I get to be selfish after everything we’ve been through, don’t you think?”
Moments later her eyelids fluttered shut, her expression turning serene. A soft smile graced her lips giving off the impression that she had finally decided to let herself follow a voice that had been beckoning to her for so long. She let out a final breath and went slack. Draco’s eyes screwed shut for a moment, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
Finally, he opened his eyes again, looking at Astoria’s face one more time. There was a lightness to it now — peace.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Outside, storm clouds darkened and thickened along the horizon. The room was quiet, nothing but the steady smell of incense burning in the still, stale air. With steady fingers, he took his Malfoy ring off, placing it on the bedside before leaving the room.
***
Draco shot up from his bed as a crying shriek pierced through the hallways. Something inside him twisted as another wave sounded.
When the crying did not stop, he found himself getting out of bed, unable to ignore the cries any longer.
It had been three months since Astoria died. Scorpius proved to be more and more difficult; he cried and didn’t like being held by anyone but Narcissa, not even the nurse or the house-elves. Draco had been too afraid to touch him, always finding an excuse when his mother tried to hand him over. His mother had usually been the one to attend to Scorpius but she hadn’t been feeling well lately. Draco couldn’t bring himself to wake her.
His hands hesitated as he opened the door to the nursery, the cries sounding louder. Moonlight trickled in from the window, catching on his son’s blond head as he thrashed in his crib. Slowly, he approached the crying baby, unable to look away from his tiny face, screwed tightly with tears running down his red cheeks.
Apprehensively, Draco ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do — he had never held a child, especially one so small. Scorpius let out another pained cry, more harsh than the last and Draco reached out instinctively. Suddenly, the crying subsided as a tiny hand wrapped around his finger. The infant stared at him curiously, large silver eyes shimmering with tears. Draco held a breath as the boy clutched his finger tighter.
Over the months, he did not deny that he had been avoiding his son. He kept himself busy, telling himself it was better to let his mother handle it. Narcissa took on the role without any questions, choosing to not say anything despite the worried line of her brow whenever he excused himself from their presence and her unsubtle attempts to get him interested in his son’s progress. Draco chose to watch from a distance, such as when his mother spoke to Scorpius about their families and brought him to her rose gardens on warm afternoons. Unlike him, his mother knew how to raise a son, how to care for one. He told himself it was better this way.
“You can hold him, you know.” Draco startled, accidentally pulling his finger away, causing the child to cry again.
Narcissa stood in the doorway, a tired but amused expression on her face. She saw the panic in Draco's eyes and her lips twisted upwards. Brushing passed him, she picked Scorpius up and before he could back away, placed him in his arms.
He was so tiny and fragile, Draco thought he might break. But Scorpius remained calm in his arms, staring at Draco with wide-eyes.
“He knows you,” Narcissa’s voice floated over the space but it sounded distant as Scorpius snuggled closer to his chest. Scorpius blinked slowly, leaning into his touch when he tentatively brushed a finger down his wet cheek. Draco remained still, afraid to move when Scorpius yawned before his eyelids drooped shut.
In that moment, in the quiet stillness of his son gently curled in his arms, something took root inside of him. He didn’t know what it was, but upon seeing his dark mark pressed starkly against the child he held, this thing unfurled and latched itself within him. For the first time in the war, he felt something, perhaps that something he had witnessed many fight for, die and live for. He still did not understand it, could not grasp it nor give it a name.
It was terrifying. When you have lived so long behind the walls you built to protect yourself, when it was all you knew, you forgot what lived beyond it. And yet it seemed that life could still surprise him, could be kind sometimes, even to those who didn’t deserve it.
At last the word came to him. It was just a pulse of it, but it was still there. It was hope.
***
Time passed quickly as Draco continued rising in the Dark Lord’s favor. In the blink of an eye, Scorpius was a year old. As Scorpius grew, every day Draco waited with a kind of foreboding for the day Scorpius would come to know the world and his father better, when he no longer looked at him with the innocence of a child who did not fear giving their love so freely and easily. And yet, Scorpius remained a bright-eyed curious boy who had a partiality for sweets, a compassion for all animals and creatures big and small, and a kindness for all things. Draco did not understand it.
Sometimes, he would catch Narcissa talking to Scorpius and taking him to Astoria’s portrait. In those moments, he found it difficult joining them, guilt twisting in his stomach. He never truly knew Scorpius’ mother. He had been selfish when Astoria was alive, having never taken the time to genuinely know her due to his incessant focus on playing the role the Dark Lord had given him. But there was another reason he could not look at her portrait. Sometimes when he did, he was taken to that night, the sick feeling of violating her and being violated himself slipping from his occlumency walls in full force. He still had nightmares and knew that one day when Scorpius asked about his mother, he would not know what to say, would not even be able to do her justice without admitting what he had done, how he could have saved her, taken care of her better, or how he couldn’t even be a friend to her when she obviously needed it.
“Hi, daddy.” Draco startled at the quiet whisper, looking up from his study to find a pair of wide silver eyes staring at him beyond his desk. Scorpius blinked at him shyly and before he could respond, Narcissa and Tippie burst into the study.
“Oh thank goodness, Scorpius you’re alright,” Narcissa breathed, hand on her chest. Tippie looked as if she would faint. Draco stood. “This little boy ran off while we weren’t looking.”
“Did he now?” Draco replied, amusement in his voice as he observed the boy innocently staring at his feet. He knelt before him. “And what do you have behind your back?” he asked gently.
Scorpius’ cheeks reddened as he glanced at him then Narcissa.
“Go on,” Narcissa said encouragingly.
Mustering resolve, Scorpius handed over a piece of paper. Draco took it, examining two smiling faces and a mess of colors.
“Das daddy and me,” Scorpius said hesitantly, pointing at the figures and monitoring Draco’s reaction.
Draco swallowed and blinked at the boy who looked at him hopefully. “I love it.”
Scorpius instantly grinned, and, feeling more encouraged, slid closer to him in between his arms.
“I’ll grab some biscuits,” Narcissa said, smiling softly at them with glassy eyes. “Come, Tippie.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Tippie said, sniffing into her handkerchief as she watched two blond heads, both cautious, lean closer together.
***
“And you’re sure of this?” The Dark Lord’s voice coiled through the cavernous space as he remained staring at the green flames floating before him with his hands behind his back. No heat came from the dancing green gas-like substance as if it was meant to suck the very warmth from around it instead.
“Yes, my lord,” Draco answered from his kneeling position, looking from under his lashes. Over the last few months, Draco had been tasked with investigating the bodies of Death Eaters who had been found with their Dark Marks mangled. “It was clear that there was an attempt to carve out the mark on Cadamus Selwyn’s skin, but the magic killed him before he was successful. We’re keeping tabs on some more Death Eaters that we believe are trying to do the same.”
“Well done, Draco,” his aunt cooed, dragging a sharp nail down his cheek before she walked passed. Draco suppressed a flinch. “Let me go after them my lord,” she whispered, her pale boney hands caressing the Dark Lord’s arm. Draco noted the action.
“No,” he said in that voice that once belonged to his old rival. He turned his attention towards Draco. “I’d like to pay the Selwyns a visit myself and set an example of what happens when you betray the Dark Lord.”
“Rise,” the Dark Lord commanded. Draco did as he was told, still keeping his eyes down. “You’ve done well, Draco. And the prisoners who ended up dead before we could extract more information — I trust you punished the guards that handled them?”
“Yes, my lord.”
When the Dark Lord nodded dismissively and said nothing more, Draco prepared to leave.
“Your son.” Draco stilled, his hand twitching towards his wand, “A healthy boy I heard. Scorpius, is it? Almost a year and a half?”
“Yes,” Draco replied carefully. There was an underlying hunger in the Dark Lord’s face, a predatory excitement that only confirmed the rumors that had been circling around in hushed tones.
“Excellent. You are dismissed.”
***
The smell of fumes and charred flesh invaded Draco’s senses through his silver mask. He watched the destruction around him. Black-robed Death Eaters under his command spread out, wreaking havoc on the small town.
“Over there!”
Draco turned towards the direction the Death Eater called out where three figures sprinted towards the forest. Calmly, Draco lifted his wand, flicking his wrist as the figures halted and spasmed on the ground.
“Out of the way,” he snarled at the Death Eaters crowding the three men, now tied up. The Death Eaters immediately parted for him as he approached the struggling figures.
“Do you feel nothing?” a large man in the middle yelled, tears streaming down his face. “There are dead bodies of children out there!”
One of the Death Eaters stepped forward but Draco held his hand up, stopping him. “Tell us where the Order headquarters are.”
A younger man spat in his direction, but Draco remained unfazed. “Why don’t you go back to your master and tell him to go fuck himself,” he snarled.
Suddenly, a burst of magic hit Draco’s chest. The Death Eaters reacted immediately, disarming and tying up the attacker that emerged from the woods. A witch, with a scarred face came into view, joining the rest.
Draco straightened, but not before calmly flicking his wand to stop the curse from spreading. He recognized the minor curse and knew it would heal when treated properly. But it didn’t mean he could not feel the stinging burn around his chest and neck that would likely leave scars.
“Shall we make an example of them?” his second in command asked.
“No, take them as prisoners.”
***
It was past midnight by the time Draco made it home. It had become a habit of his to check Scorpius whenever he returned, often finding his son fast asleep. This time however, he made his way through the shadowy halls directly to his room to clean up and tend to rest of his wounds properly from the witch who attacked him earlier.
Once cleaned, he sat on his bed, rubbing ointment on his scars. Moonlight shone through the windows outlining the silver scars along with red fresh ones on his bare chest. Distantly, his mind wandered towards Lucius, wandered towards locked memories of when his father was someone he looked up to. There was a time when Lucius had been a father to him — had bought his first toy broom and quill. There was a time when his father was someone he did not fear, who, despite his stern demeanor, was not always cold and cruel. And for a long time, Draco had searched for a glimmer of the man he once knew. But in refusing to see his father for who he was — a man severely flawed, regardless of his blood status and household name — it was too late. He had sold his soul and let himself be branded and bound to the same master his father served.
Draco stared at the Dark Mark on his arm, the black inky lines snaking and coiling, darker than the midnight shadows as if it was malignant and alive. Even if he shut his eyes, he could feel it move, feel the darkness and bond to his master that lived within him. The Dark Mark was not a mark that could be forced — one had to agree and accept the mark. And because of this, the Dark Mark was a reminder of the choices he had made, of what he had become, and his inability to escape what his own actions had turned himself into.
“Daddy?” The voice was quiet, almost worried. Draco looked up, finding Scorpius standing alone at the shadowy doorway, the moon’s glow illuminating his furrowed brow and worried face. Scorpius approached him slowly, small feet pattering on the floor until he came between Draco’s legs and looked up at him.
“You okay, daddy?” he whispered, placing a small hand on his cheek. Draco shut his eyes.
“I’m okay,” he replied, finally opening his eyes again. Scorpius didn’t look convinced. There was a solemness to him that reminded him of Astoria. It was the same expression that hinted that he knew more than he let on, even though he possibly couldn’t.
“I stay wid you, daddy?”
Draco swallowed. “I would like that,” he answered quietly.
Scorpius grinned happily before crawling into his lap, mindful of his father’s wounds. Wrapping his arms around his son, Draco tucked them into his bed.
Scorpius snuggled into his chest, and, not long after, finally drifted off to sleep. Draco watched him, lost in his thoughts. With babies disappearing he knew he would do everything in his power to keep Scorpius safe. But safety wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted more for his son, who deserved more than the life he had been born into. He deserved a better life. A better world.
“I’m not great at promises,” Draco murmured, “but I promise to take care of you. I promise that I will do better. And I hope one day, you’ll forgive me for what I have done and who I have become.”
The next morning, Narcissa found them still fast asleep in Draco’s bed, Scorpius’ head against his chest and Draco’s body curled around him.
***
“Good evening, Lord Malfoy,” a voice called out from behind him, “or should I say… daddy ?”
Draco turned from where he was staring out from the balcony and glowered at Theo who sauntered in with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
“What are you doing here, Theo?” Draco crossed his arms, leaning on the balustrade. A gentle late afternoon breeze blew across his neck.
Theo put his hands up placatingly and chuckled soundlessly.
“Just wanted to stop by,” he shrugged. Despite his amused face, there was something in his demeanor that hinted that he wasn’t here for a simple chat.
Wordlessly, Theo joined him and placed his hands on the balustrade, looking out onto the sprawling grounds. Draco turned in suit, observing the clouds kissing the horizon, the last rays of sunlight piercing stubbornly through them.
“How’s Pansy?” Theo asked, breaking the silence. Pansy and Blaise had visited a couple of weeks ago. Pansy looked more like herself, her color and health returning. Yet Draco didn’t miss the faraway look that would overtake her expression nor the way her hands sometimes lingered at her abdomen. During their visit, she and Blaise met Scorpius for the first time, and while he knew Pansy was never fond of children, he was surprised she had mustered a hesitant smile at his son before excusing herself.
“Better. Blaise remains protective and patient with her and it looks like it’s just what she needs. They want to get out of England.”
Theo nodded, eyes still trained towards the distance. Draco knew that look however — something was turning in his mind.
“There are rumors,” Theo finally spoke. “There are whispers that children — not just pureblood, are disappearing. Curious that this coincides with accounts that there seems to be something off with the Dark Lord.”
Theo was right. Draco had tried to subtly extract information about the disappearance of children but no one seemed to be privy to the information. The Dark Lord was also more quick to anger, a desperation and borderline recklessness in his behavior and decisions. In just the last few weeks, he made sudden decisions to increase their expansion without waiting to hear back from their allies in the Baltics and push up the timeline for their experimentation in bio-weapons.
“I’ve also heard that bodies of Death Eaters have been found with evident attempts to remove their Dark Marks.”
“Like you said. Rumors.”
Theo turned towards him fully, observing him carefully for a full breath. His lips curved upwards as if finding something that amused him.
Suddenly, the sound of small feet sounded before something tiny crashed into Draco’s legs, wrapping around them tightly.
“Who you?” Scorpius peeked from behind Draco’s legs up at Theo. Theo’s eyes widened. He glanced at Draco before kneeling before the boy.
“Hello, I’m Theo. Uncle Theo, I suppose,” he murmured, giving him a lopsided smile. Scorpius watched him curiously then glanced at his father. Draco nodded in assurance, prompting Scorpius to take tentative steps towards the new stranger.
“Hi,” Scorpius said quietly.
“What have you got there?” Theo asked.
Scorpius jolted as if almost forgetting the book in his hand. “Is my book ‘bout magic beasties and an-mals.” The boy held the book out with two hands to show Theo the cover. Animals & Magical Beasts: Children’s Edition.
Without prompting, Scorpius opened the book and showed him pages of animals moving magically on the pages.
“He’s fond of magical and non-magical creatures,” Draco said as he watched them. Scorpius was weary around strangers, but he seemed to warm up to Theo as he excitedly listed the names of each creature on the page.
“And which one is your favorite?”
“ Dwagons !” Scorpius replied immediately without hesitation. “I like dwagons cause daddy like dem.”
Theo chuckled. “I see.”
“Hippo-gwiffs is funny but daddy – but daddy no like dem. Daddy says hippo-gwiffs is dan-grus and mean ,” the child said with a severe brow. Scorpius looked up at his father for confirmation and back down again upon receiving a nod of agreement.
Theo barked out laughter, his face softening as he watched them. “Yes, your father has had some experiences with very bad and mean hippogriffs. Your poor father.”
Scorpius continued on when Tippie popped in.
“Master Draco, Master Theo,” she bowed, “Young Master Scorpius. Mistress is requesting Master Scorpius — his snack is ready.”
“Better go on to Nana Cissa now,” Draco said. “Say bye to Theo.”
Theo gave him a pointed look. Draco rolled his eyes. “ Uncle Theo.”
“Kay,” Scorpius smiled. “Bye bye uncle Tee-ow,” he waved, taking Tippie’s hand before they disappeared.
When Theo straightened and turned back again to look out at the horizon, he had a soft smile on his face. The sky bled into a dark vermillion, the clouds a faint lavender in the distance. He could tell there was still something on Theo’s mind.
“Sins of the father…” Theo murmured.
“Pardon?”
“Sins of the father,” he repeated. “Our father’s weren’t the best were they? Mine was worse though, so I won on that end. Even though that bastard is finally dead, I still see him. I feel him in every room of the manor, lurking in every memory of my childhood, and see him in the reflection in my own fucking mirror,” he gritted out, an emotion akin to both anger and anguish in his face. “Sometimes, it makes me grateful I’m infertile, that I won’t be a father, that my great pure line will end with me.”
Draco’s fingers curled on the edges of the stone railing. “I had similar thoughts. Before Scorpius.” Draco paused. “But now… I don’t know.”
“Do you ever get afraid? That you’ll be like Lucius?”
Draco’s lips lifted in a rueful smile. “Every day.” Conjuring two glasses of firewhiskey, Draco handed him a glass. They both took a long sip.
“But I’m going to try.”
Theo looked at him intensely then put a hand on his shoulder. What he said was true. Ever since Scorpius, things have changed. He wanted things to change.
“Prove our fathers wrong, Draco.”
Draco downed his firewhiskey then clasped Theo on the shoulder in silent thanks.
Theo turned to leave but stopped before he exited the threshold and pivoted around. “Ahh the reason I came.”
Draco crossed his arms and waited.
“Did you know the Dark Mark was taken from an old ritual — one derived by ancient families to commit their loyalty to their own blood?”
Draco stilled.
“The old families often used to pledge themselves and their allegiance directly to a member of their own blood. This bond is bound by not only loyalty, but blood — of faith and loyalty freely given, not taken. Hence it is said that it is one of the most powerful bonds out there, so much so that it may be capable of overriding existing ones that conflict with it…” Theo trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes before he turned and left.
***
“Daddy!”
Draco dropped to his knees, clutching the toddler in his arms. He shut his eyes, inhaling his scent.
“Daddy you so dirty,” he giggled, pulling back.
Narcissa clicked her tongue, waving her wand, casting a quick cleaning charm on them both.
“You weren’t eating too many sweets again while I was gone, were you?”
“Nu-uh,” Scorpius replied sweetly, sharing a secret look with Narcissa who winked at him.
“Scorpius darling, why don’t you go with Tippie to the gardens while your father and I have a word,” Narcissa said, calling out Tippie who appeared seconds later.
The little boy pouted, still clinging on to his father.
“I’ll be right there. Why don’t you pick out some flowers for us?” Draco suggested.
Scorpius’ face brightened at the task. “Kay!” he chirped.
Tippie squeaked in panic when Scorpius bolted determinedly towards the gardens and rushed after him.
“Walk with me,” Narcissa requested, daintility lifting her hand for him to take into the crook of his arm. Silently she led him to the family crypts. Draco stiffened when they reached his father’s tomb.
“When?” she asked.
“Soon.” Draco stared at the marble crypt, untouched as if it was just that morning they had buried his father. “Before he turns two. Bellatrix has been inquiring about his birthday. I’ll have a distraction planned so the three of us — ”
“I won’t be going with you.” Draco’s head snapped towards her. She had a serene expression on her face as she looked longingly at his father’s tomb. “He loved you so much you know.” It was the first time he heard his mother’s voice tremble. “He wasn’t a perfect father nor a perfect man, but he loved you even if he never said it.”
“I know,” Draco whispered. Because he finally understood that in some fucked up way his father thought he was doing the right thing. Fuck, he was trying to figure out what the right things was for Scorpius and he didn’t know. This new understanding didn’t excuse his father for what he had done, but Draco no longer felt angry, no longer felt heavy for holding on to this resentment that had festered inside of him for so long.
“Good,” his mother said, dabbing her eyes. “I want you to have this.”
From a pocket in her robes, Narcissa pulled out a small velvet pouch and placed it in his palm, curling her fingers over it.
Draco looked up at her, finding fierce pride in her face. She was older now, but still beautiful, if anything more than she had ever been — the lines of age and crinkles on her face a testament of the life she had lived. Her eyes were the same, however, a pale blue like frosted starlight that shone with a steady brilliance, unwavering and unyielding despite all she had lost and suffered. Memories flooded through him of those same eyes going soft when she tucked him into bed after reading his favorite book and when he had held her tighter when he found himself afraid to leave his parents for his first year at Hogwarts. And another memory, her eyes shut this time, as she sat behind the piano. Moonlight fell thinly from the window like a veil over her saddened face. Her hands, steady and nimble, drifted over the keys, striking lilting chords into the darkness.
It’s my sister’s birthday today , she had whispered when he sat next to her.
Aunt Bellatrix?
No. Her name is Andromeda . He had not understood why she cried, but he felt her sadness in the music that swelled around them. He put his head on her shoulder as she kept playing, the notes filling the dark silence between them.
“Now,” his mother finally spoke, lifting her chin and clearing her throat. “Let’s send that bastard a message.”
***
It worked. He had severed the bond between him and the Dark Lord.
Kneeling inside a pentagram, a lock of Scorpius’ hair in one hand and his cut palm in the other, Draco had pledged his loyalty to his son. The sensation was immediate, he felt it in his very core and in his blood as the dark mark on his arm burned and tried to fight back. But it wasn’t as strong as the new bond forming inside of him. This time Draco was willing, completely surrendering his loyalty to his son, his own blood. It was a stronger and purer form of the bond the Dark Mark attempted to create. And finally, the moment the Dark Mark and its magic clung by its weakening tendrils to him, he took the potion he had been preparing for months and a magic blade then cut the mark from his flesh, severing his ties to the Dark Lord.
It was done. He was free. But it was not yet over. Immediately, he took their things and summoned Tippie to call his mother and Scorpius.
“Daddy?” Scorpius reached out in confusion. Draco took him into his arms, hissing at the pressure on his left forearm that burned from where he had cut a piece of his flesh.
“Do you have everything?” Narcissa fussed, as she tightened their traveling cloaks.
“Yes, mother,” Draco answered, rushing through the foyer towards the entryway.
The plan was to first go into hiding in an unplotted safehouse he had been preparing in the alps before they looked for the Order. They had to lay low and stay hidden.
“Nana?” Scorpius croaked.
“Yes, my love. It’s time to say goodbye alright?” Narcissa said, smiling through her tears. “Be a good boy. I love you so much,” she said before kissing him on his forehead.
“Goodbye Master Draco, Master Scorpius,” Tippie said nervously.
“Tippie, are you sure you don’t want to go with them? All the other elves have been dismissed.” Narcissa asked once more.
Tippie looked resolutely at them. “Tippie has been with Mistress since Mistress was a young girl. Tippie will not leave Mistress behind.”
“Thank you, Tippie, for everything you have done. For my mother, Astoria, and Scorpius. And me.”
Tippie burst into tears. “It is an honor to serve the House of Black and Malfoy.”
“Mother,” Draco breathed, his throat constricting. Narcissa looked at him, eyes shining.
“I know, love,” she said, hugging him quickly and pecking him on the cheek. “I love you, Draco.” She put her forehead to his. “So much.”
He looked at his mother one last time as she stepped back into the entryway and spread her arms wide, an ancient spell chanting on her lips. Fire erupted from her palms and swirled above her in a growing sphere of colored flames. She was using her core magic, intending to unleash every drop of power she had inside of her.
Draco summoned his broom, and, with Scorpius buried in his arms, they took flight into the endless sea of stars.
Before they disappeared, the last thing he saw was his mother engulfed by flames and smiling as she single-handedly burned Malfoy manor to the ground.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh took a while but I finally updated!! Thank you for all your patience and kind words. This is the last of the flashback sequence and it was more difficult than I expected. I had to revise, add, and remove many things. I hope I was able to do Draco’s story justice. Love you all!!
Chapter 35: Chapter XXXIV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“For you alone I will be weak.”
— Catherynne M. Valente
“Where do you want to start?”
Hermione blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim room as she got her bearings. It was sundown now, the falling light of the sun’s last rays slipping through the window. Vaguely she heard the clink of the vials disappearing and the pensieve being put back in the cabinet.
“Let’s get out of here,” Hermione suggested, holding her hand out to him. A bewildered expression flickered over his face before it was gone. After a tense pause, a firm hand slipped into hers before she twisted, disapparating.
They landed softly on the grass, just in front of the back porch. Raindrops glistened vermillion and pink on the blades of grass, reflecting the sunset sky. It must have rained, she thought as she watched the sun descend over the shadowy trees.
“Ask,” she heard him audibly swallow. “Ask anything, Hermione.”
Hermione looked up at Draco, his expression distant but softened by the warm light. She could see it, could recognize the conflict brewing in his gray eyes as he prepared himself. He was trying to compartmentalize his emotions, lock them away. But she wouldn’t let him.
Hermione gave his hand a tug before seating herself on the porch steps. He joined her, still staring quietly into the distance. On the outside, the indifferent stony expression he wore suggested he didn’t care. Hermione would have interpreted the same if it weren’t for his hand gripping hers like a vice.
“The Selwyns,” Hermione began, steeling herself. “They never helped the True Order. In fact from what I knew, they were a big resource of funding for the Dark Lord. But they never — ”
“It was the Voltaires that betrayed the Dark Lord,” Draco said with a wry twist of his lips. “I got it out of the prisoners, but I said it was the Selwyns. The Dark Lord was already being paranoid about them since they were starting to become impatient about the lack of progress. They also favored keeping some of the muggleborn children for themselves,” he finished with a dark look.
Hermione swallowed. “And the prisoners, did you — did you — ”
“I had no choice,” he whispered. “I couldn't do anything when other Death Eaters were also involved in getting the information. There were too many variables, too many risks. I needed to be selective.”
Hermione, not trusting her voice, squeezed his hand letting him know she understood. She too had made choices, choices that kept her up at night. When she was younger, she had always prided herself on her rationality and her ability to make choices that served the greater good. But in war, the good choices were not always the right choices. Often, the right choice didn’t even exist. Harry’s sacrifice was proof that sometimes doing the selfless thing could only get you killed.
“When Scorpius was born, surviving wasn’t enough,” Draco continued, “I did not want to be passive anymore. When I first held him, a decision rooted itself within me. I decided that once he was old enough I would defect and help the Order not just because I wanted to survive but I wanted to do better for my son. I did not want him to live in the world I helped create.”
“I was wrong.”
He looked at her, brows pinched.
“When you first showed up, I hurled my own accusation at you for defecting. I had my preconceived notions and believed you turned coat for a self-serving purpose.”
He pondered her words for a moment, but it didn’t seem to alleviate the tension in his storm clouded eyes. “You weren’t wrong, Hermione. It took me too long to try to undo what I had helped create. But in the end, it was for Scorpius, not some noble larger goal for humanity. Is that still not self-serving?”
His eyes burned with a challenge, but it didn’t hold any heat. “We’re only human, Draco. It is inherent in our nature that everything we do is somewhat self-serving, whether directly or indirectly. These lofty ideals and larger goals you speak of are nothing if not rooted in our compassion, empathy, and kindness. We are not driven by abstract ideals and ethical laws, but our desire to make changes around us and within us. Changes that, hopefully , benefit not just ourselves, but others. When you tried to keep Raul alive as long as possible, when you let Astoria visit him, got Scorpius out, joined the Order and so many other things, tell me, was it purely self-serving?”
Draco remained quiet but she could sense a slight shift in him.
She understood now, it was never about trying to pick a winning side or just surviving, but trying to take a step in the right direction, to finally make his own choices. In the memories, Draco had risked everything, lost everything for a single chance to be more than who he had been raised and the choices he had made.
“It was also you, wasn't it who attempted removing the Dark Marks from those Death Eaters?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, a slight distaste in the curl of his lips, “the targeted Death Eaters were intentional. Just like the Selwyns.”
“And the bond to Scorpius to get rid of the Dark Mark?”
“As you saw, it was Theo’s idea and he was right. It was what the Dark Mark was derived from but purer. While the Dark Mark was a brand of servitude, this was a bond of loyalty. True loyalty. This bond is in a way stronger because it wouldn’t need to be forced — it could not be implemented if some form of loyalty did not already exist. With the right potion and spell work, I was able to sever the ties and override the Dark Mark. The actual bond to Scorpius is harmless, but still stronger. I will always be loyal to him — bond or no bond. He isn’t able to summon me like the Dark Lord was able to, but I can feel it when he is in need of me.”
Hermione absorbed the information. The bond, unlike the Dark Mark, was formed out of something Voldemort would never have — loyalty from love, not fear.
“I admit it was a risk since there weren’t many resources on it except old family texts. It was when I visited the Black family vaults that I found the original ritual the Dark Lord tampered with to create the Dark Mark.” Draco looked at his inner forearm, staring deeply at the gray, marred flesh. “But sometimes I feel the ghost of it still there, some echo of Dark Mark.”
Some scars stayed forever, even as an imprint of it. But they were also reminders of what one had been through, of the battles they had fought and even lost. Hermione glanced at her Mudblood scar. It didn’t repulse her anymore. All she saw was a reminder of a time she had been helpless and of the deep rooted hatred that existed, one she had and would continue fighting hard against.
“And when your mother did what she did…”
Draco’s eyes screwed shut, his face in conflict, trying to shut out the emotions warring within him. But she could tell he was trying to keep himself open — for her.
“Draco, we don’t have to…” Hermione scooted closer, cupping his face. She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. His eyes fluttered open, and she was almost taken aback by the raw emotion in them.
Slowly, his fingers wrapped around her wrists. They were cold but gentle. Eyes still on hers, he twisted his face slightly and brushed his mouth against her palm before setting them down, but not letting go.
“She was supposed to come with us,” he began, finding his voice. “But she was tired and knew it was risky. She also knew that the fire would buy us time since no bodies would be discovered and it would be a while for them to realize I had betrayed the Dark Lord. It was also a message.”
Hermione had never known Narcissa outside the distant glances she’d seen of her growing up. But she saw the witch who raised Draco more clearly, not just through his memories, but in the kindness and bravery he claimed he did not have.
“I’d like to talk about Astoria now,” she said carefully.
He merely nodded, his expression blank. She almost missed the slight tremor in his finger.
“I still have nightmares about that night,” he said quietly, color draining from his face. “Not only did I violate her, but being pregnant killed her in the end. And maybe I have no right to say this, but it fucked me up too. I felt violated. It – it was my first experience,” he said, jaw clenched. Hermione blinked in surprise. “Not to mention Raul. I was too consumed solidifying my place in the Dark Lord’s ranks instead of putting more time into finding a way to help him and Astoria escape.”
“You were planning to help them escape?” Hermione gaped. “Did they know?”
Draco gave her a bitter smile. “They didn’t know. While I was buying them time, I was also thinking of ways to get them out. She was already ill and even if she wouldn’t have a long life, at least… at least…”
His eyes shut, brows pinching as he inhaled deeply. Astoria’s peaceful face came to mind, as did Raul’s. For a moment, Hermione let herself think of what if’s, of some universe where they did manage to make it out. It made her heart twist remembering the reverence in which they held each other and looked at each other like they had everything they ever wanted. Hermione found herself glancing at Draco, her heart aching and overflowing with the things she had tried so hard to keep back.
“If I hadn’t been a coward and found a way to get at least get Raul out — ”
“ No , you couldn't,” Hermione said firmly, eyes unwavering. “Yes they were victims to this war, but so were you , Draco. You did what you could. Maybe you could have done something, or maybe even if you did, Raul and Astoria would’ve ended up in the same place. You weren’t a coward,” she said, taking his chin in one hand, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You are not a coward, Draco.”
He searched her eyes, guilt still evident in them, but softer now as a new emotion crept in them. It was fragile, hesitant, but there. It was a start.
“Neither bravery nor goodness is measured by tallying the acts we have done in our past against each other. It is about having the courage to do better despite all that we have done. It is about being kind, even when others and the world have not,” she continued. “Astoria was right. There’s more kindness in you than you let yourself believe. If you can’t see it, then look at Scorpius — his goodness is a reflection of what kind of father you have been. He is more observant than you give him credit for and perhaps he sees you more clearly than you see yourself.”
Draco’s gaze was heavy on her as if committing every word she had just said to memory. Her eyes softened as they slipped into a comfortable silence. Hermione looked towards the treetops. The sun was gone now, but she knew it was still there no matter how hidden.
“I did not love her romantically,” the silence broke with his voice, steady and sure. “I did not truly know her. But we could have become friends. I could have at least dedicated some time to learning more about who she was so that I could tell Scorpius something about her. I can tell Scorpius understands more than he should for someone so young. In fact, he never asks me questions about her, but I — I would have liked to give him something.” His fist clenched. “Some day, I hope he will understand that despite the circumstances of his conception and birth, his existence — no,” he stopped himself, “ he is a miracle. Astoria was not ready to be a mother. And I don’t blame her. She felt no bond nor a mother’s instinct with him but that didn’t mean he was a mistake or a regret.”
“She was brave.” Muggles had a name for what it seemed like Astoria went through — postpartum depression. No one could blame her. Her life was faced with tragedy — being born with an illness, falling in love with someone who she couldn’t be with, forced marriage, forced pregnancy. And yet, she was steadfast and strong. Hermione had nothing but respect for her.
His eyes shuttered. “When things get too… intimate between us, I’m taken to that night — that sick feeling of violation. That’s why even if I want to, being physically intimate with you is difficult.”
Draco had no delusions that he had nothing to offer her, that he couldn’t do anything but lay everything out for her. He finally opened his eyes.
“I won’t romanticize what you’ve been through or give you some bullshit that it made you stronger and was therefore necessary. ” Hermione blinked back tears that threatened to fall for him, Astoria, and Raul.“Neither you nor Astoria nor Raul deserved it,” she said quietly. “It was fucked up and sometimes that is all there is to say. I won't tell you how you should feel, but how I feel, from what I saw and what I have seen since you joined the Order, is that you’ve come so far. You’ve worked so hard to do your best for Scorpius, And I see you, I see how far you’ve come and the man you are now. I see all of you and I’m not afraid.”
So much had changed. Hermione could admit that she had had her insecurities, a defense mechanism to keep herself safe. Her losses had brought out her defenses to try and prevent her from getting hurt again. She had been driven by this deep-seated fear of finally finding a place, a home . She was so used to it being taken away from her that she didn’t feel like she belonged anywhere. She didn’t allow herself to belong anywhere. But now all that crumbled. Her fears had held her back from allowing herself to fully be with him and Scorpius. She had kept that door closed for so long, but here they both were, fully opening themselves, letting down their defenses. It was terrifying but she felt a weight lifting from her.
Before she knew it, his lips were on hers, slow and careful. It felt like their first kiss, and perhaps, in many ways it was. As he dug his hands into her hair, angling her face just so for more access, she surrendered herself to him, savoring the pressure of his tongue against hers and the sure grip of his palms on her lower back. When he broke away he rested his forehead on hers, breathing heavily. Hermione . Still in a daze, she vaguely heard her name leave his lips in a breathless sigh.
“… you understand?”
“Sorry?” Hermione murmured, pulling back a little more, finally recovering her senses.
“You were never intruding or replacing Astoria,” he said, looking intently at her. “I didn’t know how to explain it then when you said you felt you were intruding in our lives. You said I was still not over Astoria, but as you now know, it wasn’t in the way you think. There was never any comparison, no place that didn’t solely belong to you.”
A tear slid down Hermione’s cheek at his words, at the raw expression on his face.
“You’re the one who’s free, Hermione,” he said, a pained look in his eyes. “You don’t need me. I’m a single father and ex-Death Eater. If there’s anyone intruding, it's Scorpius and I. But I’ll take what I can get, even if it's only for a while,” he whispered.
Hermione frowned. “You’re right, I don’t need you.” Draco flinched, but he showed no surprise. “I want you — and Scorpius.”
Her hands twisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, not letting him shut down. “And you don’t need me either, Draco. We’re both capable of surviving on our own — our pasts have forced us to. A lot of my relationships with people have been built on them needing me: for help, dependency, or to solve their problems. But there is something stronger in not needing someone, but wanting them not for what they have to offer but simply because of who they are.”
Draco looked at her, perplexed. She drew closer, overwhelmed by her own emotions. “I want you, Draco,” she said softly, almost afraid of breaking whatever was between them.
Draco looked at her for a moment, then bent forward, his nose brushing against hers, the firm press of his hands on the small of her back urging her closer. His lips skimmed across her cheek with the gentleness of dreams as if he was lost to sleep and if he was not careful, he would wake.
Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, she heard him whisper under his breath.
He pulled back and chuckled softly at her pout. His eyes held an undeniable tenderness that was foreign on his face. She found it suited him.
Night had fallen around them now, as the last rays of the sun were winked out. It was a starless night, no sight of the moon as darkness surrounded them. But they were not afraid.
***
“ — and den, and den, I was runnin and Mr. Dragon was flyin — ”
Hermione nodded her head in interest as Scorpius recalled his latest dream. Scorpius described the scene with his little arms waving to mimic the action, glancing up at her every few moments from his place on her lap.
“Bath time, Scorpius,” Draco said as he came into the room and placed a steaming cup before her. Hermione blinked in soft surprise but smiled at the gesture in silent thanks. She had been about to make herself a cup of tea when the little boy tugged at her shirt and asked if she wanted to hear about his dream.
Scorpius frowned at his father before brazenly turning his attention back to Hermione and continuing his story as if he hadn’t heard him. Hermione chuckled behind her hand, peaking at Draco who was glowering.
“Scorpius…”
“ Daddy ,” the boy whined, crossing his arms. He still didn’t like bath time.
“Come on, love,” Hermione urged, pressing her lips into the back of his head. Her eyes flickered up to Draco, feeling the weight of his heavy gaze.
“Okay, Mini,” Scorpius finally sighed, trying not to pout.
A similar frown marred Draco’s features. Hermione bit her lip at how much they looked alike as they both walked out of the room, the look of an impending battle on both their faces.
Hermione took the cup of tea Draco had left for her and made her way to the back porch. He did this often and yet it always surprised her. Whether it be in the middle of her research or when she was wound tight after a mission, she would find a cup of tea waiting for her. Sometimes hot chocolate.
Taking a seat on the creaky steps, she leaned against the wooden railing. The mug was warm in her hands, the scent of ginger and lemon wafting through her. The air was gentle as it wound through her locks and kissed the nape of her neck. From where she sat, she could hear splashes and cursing from inside followed by mischievous laughter and the scampering of little feet.
“ Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy .”
“Don’t want twousers daddy!”
“Scorpius — ”
“I be good boy in bath if no twousers after!”
Hermione smiled into her cup.
In that moment, listening to the two boys negotiate, Hermione reflected on how far they had come. How far she had come. Progress was not linear — sometimes we regressed and found ourselves taking a step forward, only to take two steps back. Sometimes, we found ourselves in a different direction altogether. And that’s where she was at — still stumbling and sometimes lost, but trying not to not let her fears and anxieties keep her stagnant in one place. She had to keep moving even if it meant inching her way forward, taking one step at a time, or crawling, as long as her breaks in between didn’t last too long. And along the way, somewhere in the dark, she had found that she was not alone. She didn’t have it to be — only if she chose so. Hermione had decided that she would take that hand held out to her in the darkness.
When she had first seen Draco again, she admitted that it was difficult seeing the man he truly was underneath the layers of walls and masks he built around himself, without their past nor his reputation feeding into her perception of him. But the hauntedness in his eyes spoke of the same void that lived inside of her. In him she recognized someone who had done what they needed to in order to survive. But surviving was not the same thing as living. And that’s where they found themselves, found each other and connected — in that same space where no other would follow, craving for something they never had: someone who understood.
Ever since she lost Harry, her parents, and Ron, she had gotten so used to being alone, she withdrew inwards. She hadn’t allowed herself to want things, for fear of losing it. She had tried to deny herself happiness, a life shared with others. But even in the middle of the war, she had found a sense of belonging in the unlikeliest of places.
It had not been easy. Having Draco and Scorpius in her life awakened a long lost yearning in her to want more than what she had. She had tried to deny herself, push them away. Her worries about his past, Astoria, and her place in their lives had inhibited her from giving herself what she always craved deep down: a place she belonged, people to call home.
Home had been a concept, a place that had been lost to her for so long. She had wandered looking for a home and had forced herself to find it within herself, unconsciously, walling herself in, blocking out others because she knew she couldn’t go through it again if she lost the people she loved. Now, she realized that perhaps she wouldn’t have to keep people at a distance for fear that when they left, they would take something from her. There were things that didn’t go as planned in her life but in many ways, she was beginning to find that sometimes life pushed you through dark and broken paths that would ultimately lead you to where you were supposed to be, even though it may be through ways you did not expect and even resist at first.
She had to remember to give people the chance to surprise her. She had realized that perhaps that thing she’s been desperately looking for was not in one place, one person she would meet, or some profound revelation, but in the little things, the small gestures, the myriad of people that came and went, the different circumstances and roles life put her in, and many things she would constantly learn along the way. She had lived so long with the pressure and weight of the person she did not become. But she was here now, a bit battered and less bright eyed, sometimes lost and confused, in all her anger and shortcomings. But she was done looking at herself unkindly. She had to accept herself in her entirety. Forgive herself. How could she encourage Draco to do the same if she couldn’t do it herself?
Hermione told herself she deserved to try. She would finally take what she wanted and protect it fiercely.
She looked on towards the gently rustling leaves that brought her a quiet peace only nature could provide. Her cup was empty now, the remains of crushed ginger clinging to each other in the bottom. She felt full — almost whole. But light .
On her walk back inside towards the small library, she took note of the easy silence from upstairs. When she entered, her eyes softened at the sight of Draco on the sofa and Scorpius on his lap — only in a shirt and underwear. Both their heads were bent and engrossed in what looked like a wizarding child parenting book.
“See, this is what will happen to your teeth if you don’t brush it or eat too many sweets,” she heard Draco murmur seriously. Scorpius narrowed his eyes at the book skeptically.
“Rember daddy when I was small baby like dis,” he pointed at a picture, peering curiously at the image on the page.
Before his father could respond, they both looked up at her approach. Scorpius smiled toothily at her while Draco gave her a quiet look.
“Come, Mini!” Scorpius called out with a worried pinch of his brows when she hadn’t moved. Shaking herself, she sat on Draco’s side, vanishing her empty cup. Scorpius blinked at her then gave his father a look that made her chuckle. Draco rolled his eyes before looping his arms around her, managing the book between them with wandless magic. Hermione leaned on Draco’s chest as his arms tightened around her, the ghost of his lips brushing against her forehead. Looking satisfied, Scorpius plopped his head on Draco’s other shoulder as he continued reading out.
This was home.
***
“Watson has finished the blueprints. He is thinking the Death Eaters are using the cellars to hold experiments and Dark Objects — they have old pureblood enchantments to preserve family wines,” he grunted.
“Thank you, Watson. I’ll pass this on to Kingsley and Moody,” Hermione smiled, taking the parchment. She filed it with the others she was going to take with her to the Order meeting. Draco was putting Scorpius down for a nap before they left.
“The Malfoy Heir, Ms. Granger.” Hermione looked up, seeing Watson linger in the doorway, hesitation on his face. Hermione nodded encouragingly for him to go on. “He is being good to Ms. Granger?” he asked, a sour expression on his face as if he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth.
“Yes, he is,” Hermione replied, a smile on the edge of her lips.
“This is good,” Watson said solemnly before bowing his head slightly. Dismissing himself, he left the room to take over watching Scorpius while they were gone.
Hermione blinked at his retreating form, her heart twisting for the old elf. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had found something unexpected in this war.
Draco appeared in the doorway moments later. “Are you ready?”
“Yup.” Hermione mumbled, stuffing more documents into her beaded bag. “What?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow in challenge upon seeing the amused look on his face.
“For someone who can cite at least a single line from every textbook known in existence, you’re quite heavily reliant on your resources,” he drawled, gesturing to the pile of parchments she was still trying to shove into her beaded bag.
“These are my summarized notes ,” she grumbled, pushing her whole arm into the bag to keep them in.
“It’s a meeting, not a 45-hour lecture.” His lips twitched.
“I’m just making sure I’m prepared,” she huffed.
Hermione suddenly gasped when he tugged her wrist. Stumbling into his chest, she caught the brief flicker of silver before the world twisted away.
The world finally righted itself and she found herself standing outside of headquarters.
“You alright, Granger?” There was a hint of humor in his voice as he blinked down at her slowly. Hermione blushed realizing she was still clutching tightly onto his shirt and promptly stepped back.
“Yes,” she mumbled.
Just moments later, more Order members apparated in, some eying them curiously. Hermione watched as a cold mask slipped over Draco’s features. He stared back indifferently at those sneering at him, an air of nonchalance about him.
Hermione forged her way forward, also ignoring the looks before stopping abruptly.
“Draco?” she asked quizzically as she doubled back realizing Draco was a couple of steps behind her.
“It’s alright, Granger,” he replied. “Go on first.” He jerked his head towards the entrance.
Hermione blinked, perplexed. But then it suddenly hit her.
“I’m not ashamed, Draco,” she scowled, firmly taking his hand in hers. She didn’t give him a chance to reply before dragging him inside.
True enough, Order members stared at them, some throwing them stunned looks and whispering amongst themselves. Draco loomed slightly behind Hermione as she continued to stick her nose up in the air and glare at anyone who sneered at them. He shook his head in disbelief but said nothing, curling his hand around hers tighter .
“Settle down, settle down,” Moody said in his gruff voice as they took their seats. His bright blue magical eye whirled at the sight of their entwined fingers and it looked as if he was about to say something, but the man halted upon receiving Hermione’s raised eyebrow “Right, well,” he cleared his throat, “let’s begin.”
As Moody spoke, Draco watched as Hermione summoned her own parchment and began furiously scribbling with one hand — her other still clasped in his, still refusing to let his hand go in her stubbornness. A brief memory of the witch flashed in his mind, in third year when she had reached for the same book he had in the library. She had gotten to it first and clutched it tightly to her chest. He would never forget the absolutely feral look on her face. A similar look painted her features now.
“As you know, we’ve been working on figuring out what’s going on in the Cistrine mountains,” Kingsley took over. “The Dark Lord has been expending more of his resources into hunting down the snake instead of his expansion. We can confirm that his allies are not happy, especially since we’ve been able to liberate more regions in the South and secure help from the American Ministry.”
Under the table, Hermione’s knee bounced. This was it. No one said it out loud but they could all feel the years of war drawing closer to a final moment that could finally end it all. Voldemort was weakening. They had heard of restlessness even within his ranks, more and more defections as he focused more on his haunt for the snake. And if the Order got to the snake first, it would be the blow they needed to cripple him, making it the opportunity they needed to strike. If he got to the snake and used it for whatever he so desperately needed it for, it would only prolong the war.
A hand on her knee stopped her nervous bouncing. Draco gave her thigh a gentle squeeze making her flush with heat. She glanced at his face, but it remained an emotionless mask, in contradiction with the steadying hand on her leg and his finger rubbing circles soothingly on her inner thigh.
“Miss Granger,” Kingsley gestured once finished.
“I’ve prepared summaries,” Hermione said crisply, wandlessley distributing sets of parchment. “Our research finds that…”
From the other side of the table, as Hermione spoke, Ronald Weasley continued glaring at them. His face was pinched as if coming across a putrid scent while his eyes flickered to the space between them. Draco coolly lifted a brow when his eyes landed on him. The red-head clenched his jaw but surprisingly looked away. His sister looked more perplexed while the rest of the room covertly glanced at them. Although it didn’t seem to bother Hermione, he couldn't help feeling a flash of guilt that he caused this. As if sensing his unease, he caught Hermione glancing at him before placing her hand on the one he had on her leg and lacing them together. The sure weight of her hand steadied him, bringing him back.
“One of the magizoologists Miss Granger has cited in hers and Mr. Malfoy’s research is Soros Silkman, a man the wizarding community had long thought dead when he disappeared a few years back,” Kingsley began after Hermione finished her report. Kingsley pointedly looked at those who were not paying attention. “Interestingly, the scouts we sent into the forest found a shack where a hermit lives. They have reason to believe this hermit is Soros Silkman. Granger, Malfoy I trust you’ll find out what we need from him?”
“Yes,” they responded.
“Good.”
***
The leaves shimmered and arched in the silvery moonlight. The forest beyond was unnaturally silent as if holding its breath, waiting and watching.
The shack was built into an old oak tree just at the edge of the forest. Its thick bottom branches curled downward, forming the frame of the door.
“The lights are on, he must be home,” Hermione whispered, pointing towards the dim yellow light glowing from a single murky window embedded into the bark. Draco crept behind her, peaking over her shoulder with one hand on his wand and the other holding her bush of a hair back from obstructing his face.
There were no signs of movement from within, but Hermione also pointed out the circle of mushrooms around the radius of the shack, glowing with fluorescent light.
“Protective enchantments,” Draco murmured after casting diagnostic charms to examine the wards and any other enchantments. Faint golden light glimmered around the mushrooms until runes formed, signaling the presence of wards against magical creatures and muggle repulsion.
By his side, Hermione whispered a spell, waving her wand in a figure of eight, setting up her own wards to alert her if Death Eaters breached the area. When she was finished, she signaled to Draco and they approached the shack.
“Who’s there?” a croaking voice called out after Hermione knocked on the door.
“Soros Silkman?” Hermione asked. “My partner and I are here just to ask a few questions.”
Seconds later, the door swung open revealing a stout old man with sagging cheeks and yellow eyes. Hermione felt Draco step closer behind her, his chest brushing her back as he tensed.
The old man before them assessed them for a moment then beamed. He was hunched, dressed in ragged brown robes that bore moss. Little sprigs of plants grew on his gray head and fingernails. Draco blanched, swearing he saw a flobberworm crawling inside his ear.
“Come in, come in,” he said in a cheery voice as he hobbled into the space, much larger than it looked on the outside. Draco shut the door and followed Hermione, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling.
“Settle down, get comfortable,” Soros urged them as he led them to a pile of pillows surrounding a single orange flame hovering over an elevated bronze dish.
Hermione smirked from where she sat at Draco’s affronted look towards the dusty pillows and earthen floor. She shrugged when he remained standing behind her, his face stony and scrutinizing.
“You should tell your bodyguard he can relax.” Draco bristled at the words as Hermione hid her laugh in a cough. The old man didn’t seem fazed by Draco's icy expression and chuckled to himself.
Draco eyed the old man suspiciously as he poured a brown substance into rusted metal mugs. “Here you go, quite a favorite of mine.”
Hermione and Draco accepted the cups.
“Thank you,” Hermione said with a grimace, swirling the sluggish substance. Soros settled across from them, taking a hearty sip from his cup.
“Now what can I do for you?” Soros smiled expectantly. “I’ve been known for giving great love advice,” he said excitedly, inhaling deeply as if he could smell something delightful in the air. “I can think of a remedy to loosen up that broody young man over there.” He winked.
Hermione looked over her shoulder at Draco glowering from slightly behind her, unconsciously coming closer to her.
“We were wondering if you could tell us about a snake from the Cistrine forest. We have reason to believe it contains magical properties. I’ve stumbled upon a couple of legends and stories about a snake with protective properties but all accounts seem to contradict each other. Some say its scales are white and hard as alabaster, others say its yellow with horns.” Hermione observed Soros’ contemplative features. “I’ve read about your work as a magizoologist. I was particularly interested in your paper on hybridity and the uses of serpent venom as a binding agent.”
“Ah,” Soros said, a distant expression on his face. “Yes, my work. There is a legend of a serpent in this woods called the Senex Ahas . A curious tale indeed. In the version of the Maltasi people, who come from a small magical village in the mountains, there was once a little girl born with half a soul. One eye was the color of the earth and the other was devoid of color at all. One day, the hunters of the village caught a horned silver serpent with purple eyes. The serpent was drained of venom, ivory horns cut, and whatever was left was discarded on the edge of the forest. Legend has it that they found the child at the edge of the forest, drenched in the snake’s blood. The eye with no color had become the same purple as the snake’s. Terrified, they ousted her. However, out of pity, the women of the village secretly left her food every night.
Years later, a dark plague struck the village, infecting children with a disease that destabilized their magical cores, poisoning it. Nothing worked but one night the children were found with serpent bites all over them. Interestingly, their magical cores were also found to be stabilized. The infection was not eradicated but seemed to be able to coexist in their bodies without harming their magical core. Their magic remained weak, but they survived.”
“So the girl turned into a snake?” Hermione asked. Soros nodded, a solemn expression on his face.
“Has she been seen since?” Draco questioned this time, a calculating look on his face.
“Some think they have,” Soros replied, his expression distant. “But no one is worthy of her.”
Draco and Hermione shared a glance at his reverent voice.
“I have dedicated my life to be close to her, be near her. Such a magnificent creature deserves such reverence,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut.
“I think we’ve gotten what we came for,” Draco said carefully, drawing his wand subtly as Hermione stood, also drawing her wand.
“Oh, no, no.” Soros suddenly opened his eyes. They were frantic and wide. “He promised, you see.”
“He? Who promised?” Hermione gritted out, gripping her wand tightly.
“Why the Dark Lord of course! He promised that once he found her, she would be mine. He told me if anyone came asking, I could keep them.”
Draco grabbed her elbow and tried to apparate but it didn’t work.
“Fire moss,” the old man grinned, pointing towards the red moss growing along the walls that prevented them from disapparating. “Years I spent trying to follow in her steps. But I have only managed a pale imitation of her magnificence,” he hissed. “But not for long. Soon, we will be together.”
To Hermione’s horror, his skin began to melt off his face. A gray lizard-like face emerged, slitted yellow eyes focused on them. Claws sprouted from his hands as he straightened from his haunch, towering over them, almost Draco’s height.
With quick reflexes, Draco pulled Hermione aside as a yellow substance shot from Soros’ reptilian mouth. The pillow it struck melted instantly.
“I’ll cover,” Draco gritted out, firing spell after spell that seemed to bounce off his scaled skin. Hermione pivoted, splitting from him when Soros came charging at them.
Draco rolled off the ground smoothly and faced the creature who was directly focused on him. “ Obscuro !”
The spell stuck, blinding Soros momentarily as he clawed at his eyes. He growled, launching acid in every direction. Draco took advantage of Soros’ disorientation and backed the creature into a corner with a fire whip conjured from his wand. Soros hissed when it touched his skin. But it was clear from the renewed vigor in which he fought back that Draco could not hold him off for long.
Hermione had to think of a way out. She surveyed the space trying to search for an answer. Soros was still too close to the door and the room was too small anyways to create the distance they needed to escape through it. Her eyes caught on the way his spit melted one of his tables.
“Draco, the fire moss,” she yelled, dodging Soros’ swipe as he broke free and his eyesight returned.
“Got it,” he replied, immediately following her train of thought.
Together they weaved out of reach, getting Soros to target the upper walls. Little by little, the fire moss began to fray and burn. Spell after spell, they redirected him until the ring of fire moss was broken.
“Now, Draco!”
Draco looked up, diving for Hermione’s outstretched hand. The moment their hands entwined around each other, she disapparated. But not before bright yellow acid struck her.
Notes:
A/N: Ahh! Wow look at me NOT updating last minute! Haha! Thank you all for your comments and support – I’m glad you all ~enjoyed~ Draco’s back story. We’re approaching the last adventure before the final battle and I just want to thank everyone who has supported me through this journey of my first ever fic! I’m still learning along the way and it has been even more difficult than I already expected, but you guys keep me motivated.
Tune in for the last leg of this fic — I still have a few tricks up my sleeve and characters to kill— OOPS. Until next time!!! xx
Chapter 36: Chapter XXXV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“ It is not enough
to say love in Arabic.
You must say
be the thing that buries me . ”
— Hala Alyan
“ Damn ,” Hermione hissed, clutching her arm. Immediately, Draco was on her, his eyes and hands frantically searching her body. “I’m fine, I’m fine he just got my arm.”
Perhaps it was the shock or adrenaline, or both, but the pain was dulled and distant. She felt like she wasn’t in her body as she watched the yellow acid bubble and fester as it ate at her flesh. Draco gritted his teeth, worry etched into his expression as the acid continued its slow burn despite his incantations.
Before she could get a word out, he apparated them to the infirmary at headquarters.
Vaguely, Hermione took note that the infirmary wasn’t full. She blinked as the world turned hazy like an opium dream with her mind floating in the far distance. She didn’t even notice the healer on duty who immediately approached.
“What happened?” the healer asked, running diagnostic charms as Draco lifted her to an empty cot. Anthony Goldstein , her mind finally supplied.
“She got hit with acid from a lizard-hybrid creature.” Anthony slowed down the spread with a spell Draco did not recognize. He tried applying dittany, but it only burned, causing Hermione to whimper. Draco glared at the flustered healer as he wiped his brow, cursing under his breath as he tried different potions and spells. However, they did nothing to stop the acid from spreading.
Hermione was getting pale, blinking in and out of consciousness. “The only options we have are to cut a part of her arm off or to use the Phoenix tears we have on reserve, but I would need authorization — ”
“ Do it ,” Draco snarled.
“I – I can send a request to Moody — ”
“I don’t give one fuck about what authorization she needs.”
“Draco… ”
“ Granger ,” he said, knuckles clenched. “If you think I will let you lose a part of your arm, you’re wrong.”
He gave her a dark look, which kept her silent.
Suddenly she started spasming, the acid spreading more rapidly, breaking free of Anthony’s charm.
“Hermione,” Draco breathed. “ Get those fucking tears now ,” he snapped at Goldstein.
The look on his face was enough to make Goldstein blanch and seconds later, he returned with a bottle. Steadily he dropped two tears. The acid stopped spreading and Goldstein worked silently to address the wound, which was now responsive to the normal healing spells and potions.
“Better?” Draco asked, eyes still tense.
“Yes,” she mustered, her arm now numbing. She silently accepted the pain potion and blood replenishing potion from Anthony and gave him silent thanks before he left.
“Rest,” Draco said sternly, glowering when she rolled her eyes and settled further into her cot. The adrenaline from the mission left her, the ache hitting her with full force.
“About the information we learned…” she mumbled, stubbornly trying to fight the drowsiness from the potions. “I… I should get the report…”
Draco brushed her hair out of her face. He spoke again, his tone half exasperation, half amusement. “ Rest .”
The warmth of his touch called to her. She gave in.
***
Hermione blinked, feeling warmth around her. Gaining her senses, she found herself still in the infirmary, the pre-dawn light creeping beneath the privacy curtains. She moved slightly but paused at the weight of a small blond head snuggled into her chest. She turned her head, noticing another blond head by her arm along with a large hand wrapped around her own.
She did not remember when Scorpius had arrived but during her sleep, she had thought she heard hushed voices. She assumed the little boy had convinced Watson again to bring him over when she and Draco didn’t come home.
Her gaze lingered towards Draco, his face pinched in his sleep from where his head rested on the edge of the cot. He shifted slightly on the bedside chair, but did not release the tight hold of her hand. After seeing his memories, touch had been the thing he had been denied and scarred from. It was a form of connection he never had, that had traumatized him but at the same time, it was still something he craved. There was something grounding about touch, flesh against flesh, warmth shared between two bodies. It was a language in itself. But she had seen how in his past, touch had become associated with scars — punishment — if the canvas of scars on his body was an attestation to that. Being touched with gentleness, being able to reach out was foreign to him. But here he was — and she too — finding a grounding comfort and a need to be close through physical contact.
This was not lost to Scorpius either. It had not gone unnoticed to her the way in which the boy unconsciously reached for her when he stepped down for breakfast, leaned closer when she read to him, or sometimes held her a little tighter when he was in one of his moods after bath time. Although he had always had Draco, and for a time Narcissa, he was never held by his mother, never experienced a mother’s touch. The thought stirred something inside of her and had made her make sure to never let go until he initiated it..
But with Draco, touch was even more complex. When they touched, she could see the brewing conflict in his eyes. They had treaded carefully, slowing down when things became too intimate. She let him set the pace, but when things got too heated he pulled away abruptly as if he had burned her. And when she looked at him, she saw his desire for her, felt it in the way his fingers dug into her flesh and the way his mouth tasted her. But there was also fear.
“Mini…” the little boy on her chest mumbled. Hermione tried to keep him comfortable and coax him back to sleep but he rubbed his bleary eyes with small fists, turning his cheek so his chin propped him up on her chest.
“You can go back to sleep, love,” Hermione whispered, stroking his head. She suppressed a small wince when she adjusted her arm. It was feeling better but continued to slightly burn.
“Mini?” Scorpius eyes looked at her earnestly, fisting her shirt. He glanced at his sleeping father.
“Yes?”
“You okay, Mini?” Scorpius looked at her with a serious and scared expression. Despite being a happy boy, the war had not left him untouched. He had lost so much, seen so much but still held so much kindness, innocence, and softness in him that she vowed to always protect. She squeezed him tightly.
“Yes, I’m feeling better now. Thanks to your father.”
Both of them looked at Draco’s sleeping form. Scorpius reached out and stroked his father’s head, sadness in his eyes that looked too old on a boy so young.
“When you go away before, Mini, daddy was sad too…” the boy said quietly before looking at her. “Mini make daddy and Scorpius happy.”
Hermione’s chest tightened and she blinked back tears. She was overwhelmed by the emotions that bubbled inside of her. “You make me so happy too. Both of you.”
She pressed a kiss on his nose and he giggled softly before burrowing back into her neck.
“Now, let’s get some sleep.” She felt him nod before his breathing evened out.
The next time Hermione fully woke, so was the entire infirmary. From behind the curtain, she could hear murmuring, bottles clinking together, and the squeak of carts moving. Thankfully, lately the infirmary hadn’t been too full, most of the severely wounded occupants recovered and distributed to the safehouses. Kingsley and Moody had decided to pull back their missions to focus on the snake hunt and preparing their plans to make their final blow on Voldemort. It had been a hard decision deciding where to put their efforts along with scaling back their rescue missions. There had been disagreements, many feeling restless and wanting to go after the Death Eaters. But they had to be patient. They had to be smart .
“How are you feeling?” Draco’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he ran a diagnostic charm, giving her a potion before she could even respond.
“Aching, but much better,” she said, wincing at the bitter after taste of the potion.
Draco nodded stoically, scrutinizing the results as Scorpius sat up beside her. He watched the intricate glowing lights with intrigue as he absentmindedly played with her hair.
“Thank you,” she said, once he was satisfied with the results and finished making sure she was settled comfortably as much as the cot would allow. “I’m glad I got to keep my entire arm.”
Her lips quirked, knowing he expected a challenge regarding the phoenix tears. He relaxed, hard eyes finally softening when he looked at her.
“Anytime, Granger.”
Scorpius had begun chattering for a moment before he was distracted by sounds coming from outside the curtains.
“ — Mr. Shacklebolt sir, Draco Malfoy insisted I use the tears despite the protocol — ”
Hermione only caught a flash of Draco’s face before he exited the curtains.
Even though they kept their voices low, she could hear the cold timber of Draco’s voice. Kingsley’s smooth tone quieted the heated argument that ensued when Anthony decided to imply Draco had coerced him before it was silent. Not too long after, the curtains opened revealing a stone faced Draco, a red faced Anthony Goldstein, and a slightly amused Kinglsey.
“Hermione,” Kingsley greeted kindly. “I’m glad you’re doing well thanks to Mr. Malfoy’s… decisive thinking.”
She knew him well enough and when he winked, she knew he didn’t mind the break in protocol.
“I’m glad too,” Hermione replied, glancing at Draco who stood like a sentry by her bedside. Kingsley raised a brow.
“And hello again, Scorpius,” Kingsley said warmly at the boy who clutched her closer and hid behind her hair.
Anthony cleared his throat. “I’ll change the bandages…”
Anthony fidgeted under Draco’s scrutiny, quickly changing the bandages with deft hands. Regardless of his conflict with Draco, she didn’t take his hesitation with the phoenix tears personally. She knew the protocols but did not deny that she was a little happy it wasn’t followed.
“I’ll leave you to rest,” Kingsley said when Anthony was done. His eyes flickered to Draco looming behind her. “I’m sure Mr. Malfoy will ensure you get proper rest. We’ll discuss your findings tomorrow. I can’t reveal much now but we’ve solidified more funding and allies. We’re getting close and we need all the information on that snake so that we can end this once and for all.”
It wasn’t long after Kingsley and Anthony left before they were visited by a red-head. To Hermione’s relief it was George. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Ginny or Ron after how they had reacted to her and Draco at the meeting.
“Hello, hello,” George grinned, popping his head in despite the twin looks of guardedness on both the Malfoy’s faces.
“George,” Hermione said, puzzled. She hadn’t spoken to him in a while but he had been one of the only ones who hadn’t negatively reacted to her and Draco. His compassion and understanding had been some of the things she had always admired about George. Despite his knack for pranks and jokes, there was a maturity and empathy to him that had only grown after the death of his brother.
“Glad to see you’re doing good and that bloke gave you the phoenix tears.” There was a sincerity underlying his usually humorous tone.
“I am too,” she smiled. Just then, Scorpius gingerly crawled fully onto her lap, sitting facing outward like a little wall between her and George. She almost missed Draco’s smirk.
To her surprise, George bent to the boy’s eye level, not discouraged by his squinted eyes and crossed arms.
“Hello there, I’m George.” He offered his hand but Scorpius only stared at it. As if expecting the reaction, George twisted his hand then opened it again revealing animal shaped bubbles floating above his palm. Scorpius could not hide his surprise and fascination despite trying to smother it with a frown.
“Like monkey…” Scorpius mumbled, pursing his lips before giving in and popping one of the bubbles.
“Monkey?” George asked quizzically.
Hermione grinned. “He has a book with a monkey named George in it.”
Scorpius gave a little giggle when more bubbles appeared from George’s palms. George’s eyes softened.
Soon after, Scorpius had warmed enough to George such that they sat side by side on the floor while George performed magic tricks like he used in Hogwarts. Something in her stirred recognizing the little magical tricks he played, having last seen them performed in Hogwarts. With his brother.
As if feeling her stare, George glanced at her and shared a look, something melancholic but also peaceful in his eyes.
George played with Scorpius for a while longer and Hermione couldn’t help but feel glad to see the two differing parts of her life coming together without conflict.
Draco had remained silent but gave George cordial looks. He continued to hover, however, fluffing her pillow when she shifted and Hermione couldn’t help but grin.
“What was that?” he asked, catching the mutter under her breath.
“I said Pansy was right.” She looked up fondly at his narrowed eyes. He waited for her to continue. “You can be quite the overbearing mother hen.”
Draco bristled, starting to protest but she tugged at his collar and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, his cheekbones were slightly tinged as she caught his murmurings about Pansy being a terrible influence. Despite his complaints, he settled beside her and pulled her closer. She pretended not to notice the ghost of a smile on his lips.
***
She found him a few meters outside the safehouse wards in the small clearing where a river ran through. Wordlessly, Hermione approached, eyes trained on Draco’s back. Despite the fact that he remained facing the river, the almost imperceptible slight turn of his head told her that he knew she was there.
“How’s your arm doing?”
“Better.”
Hermione continued her way to him then stopped, noticing what she had thought were wildflowers in the distance as actually butterflies scattered on the ground. “What happened here?”
“I found them like this. I assume that they attempted to drink nectar from those jessamine flowers. The nectar is poisonous and can cause paralysis.”
When she reached his side, she caught sight of his closed face in calm concentration. Sunlight escaped from the canopy of leaves and touched his face. She paused, observing the way the light fell on his cheekbones, framing the sharp cut of his jaw. The contrast between the man she saw in the pensieve and the man who now stood before her was almost startling. There was a peacefulness in his repose, his complexion warmer. He looked more alive.
They lulled into silence and Hermione watched curiously, just then noticing his palms cupped together. His lips murmured an incantation that was lost to the breeze. And then, his palms unfurled. To her surprise, a blue butterfly lay on his palm. She noticed, however, one of its wings crooked — likely broken from its fall. A silvery sheen encompassed it as it began to tentatively stretch and slowly beat its wings until, finally, it took flight.
As if hearing her thoughts, he dropped his palms and opened his eyes. “Black family magic.” Hermione blinked up at him, questions on the tip of her tongue. “Bellatrix taught it to me when the Dark Lord started living with us.”
“I’ve never come across magic like that. Is it dark magic?”
“It incorporates it but no, it's not purely dark. It is based on the balance of light and dark, spells and methods passed on from generation to generation. Bellatrix liked to use it, but she was always fond of using it for darker purposes.” His expression went grave for a moment no doubt recalling images of his aunt. Hermione did not have to tap into his thoughts, having felt first hand the witch’s magic and seen the carnage she had left in the aftermath. “Magic is neither good nor evil — it is shaped by the intent and will of the wielder.”
Hermione pondered his words. “There is so much undiscovered in magic, so much likely passed on from generation to generation that we don’t get taught at Hogwarts. Even between cultures it's different. I’ve read accounts of tribal people having their own methods of magic.”
“I can teach you.”
Hermione startled, unsure if she heard him correctly. “Pardon?”
“I can teach you,” he repeated, fully facing her now. “Only if you want of course. But I doubt you would pass on the opportunity to stuff more things into that brain of yours.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but the edge of his lips merely lifted.
Hermione pursed her lips. “A muggleborn learning pureblood family magic developed by the Black family line, a line ever notorious for their purity… ”
“Even more reason to do it,” he smirked.
“Alright. Teach me.”
Silently, he came behind her. Hermione suppressed a shiver when the hard planes of his chest brushed her back. She turned her head slightly when his head dipped to her ear while a hand laced with hers and raised it.
“The Blacks have always believed that magic was inherent in our blood, hence planting this obsession with blood purity.” A small hand steadied her lower back. “But it's clear that it has nothing to do with purity. Power lies dormant in our blood, pure or not. Knowing this, it is a matter of calling on to that pull and awakening the power that already exists within you.” The ghost of his lips brushed her ear.
“Concentrate,” he chided gently. Hermione faced forward rigidly, cheeks heating. She swore she could hear the smile in his voice. “Like all things, we are all connected — you and the river, the grass beneath you. You and me. Close your eyes and reach for those strings that link us all together.”
She took deep breaths, calming her erratic heartbeat. She drew her awareness inward until she found that glowing ember within her that she had always identified as her magical core. Slowly, she expanded her awareness to her surroundings.
“Focus on calling on to that magic and channeling it like a flow — not forcing it but redirecting it. Magic — power — simultaneously belongs and doesn’t belong to us. We can wield it for a moment, borrowing it like the energy we consume. But in the end, it must be released, given back so the cycle continues.”
The words floated through her. They made sense. Voldemort was obsessed with power, refusing to relinquish his hold on it. And it corrupted him. There was a power in being able to surrender power, to not be controlled by it. It belonged to nature. Just as we lived, we died. We borrowed and we gave back to the world and energy around us. It was the same with magic.
She concentrated and slowly she felt a vibrant hum all around her. It was like reaching out and something calling back to her in greeting. She could feel something on her fingertips, like pulling on delicate strings — the vibrations of the forest on her fingertips.
“Do you feel it?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“You know the story of Prometheus, the bringer of light. His gift to us was fire — energy . Life. In each of us, in our blood, is that flame.”
He twisted the hand he held upwards and she felt him place something soft on her palm like a petal. She repeated the incantation he whispered in her ear, directing the warmth she felt to her fingers and concentrating on one frail string that faintly glowed.
“Open your eyes.”
She did. It was another paralyzed butterfly, a pale yellow one. She held the connection and her concentration as she watched life and color seep back into its wings with the wonder of seeing magic for the first time. The butterfly began to glow and flutter like a wisp of sunlight dancing on her fingertips.
“This is the start. It can be used in different forms, but a common one, that my Aunt particularly favored, was blood magic. But this kind of magic can be more than its dark uses.”
When the butterfly gained enough strength to fly away, Draco took both her hands in his. Warmth spread between where they were joint, their magic entwining as they both silently chanted with their eyes shut. Her magic felt heightened, more aware and alive. It built within her into a crescendo, a soft cadence as the humming got stronger, the strings pulling taught around her. Until…
Hermione jolted and opened her eyes. She gasped at the myriad of butterflies fluttering around them. Their delicate wings beat softly, circling them before scattering like a thousand petals above them. In excitement she looked at Draco, wanting to see his reaction, but he was already watching her. A quiet expression on his face.
“It’s beautiful…” she murmured.
His eyes never left hers. “It is.”
They continued on, using methods to concentrate and tap into this form of magic that was foreign to her. It was a slow process of learning she was unused to, different and odd without textbooks and even wands. But she just listened and learned.
“There’s a connection between — ”
Draco’s words were cut off as he froze. Slowly, he looked up from where he was completely drenched in water. She bit her lip and before he could say anything, she splashed him again with river water using a flick of her wrist.
Hermione burst out laughing but suddenly gasped at the cold shock of water in her face.
“Problem, Granger?”
Hermione pursed her lips, wringing her hair out. The playful smile on his face was infectious, carefree. He was drenched completely, his shirt sticking to his chest.
Before he could speak again, she twisted her hand, knocking him off his feet with a wandless jinx.
“Not at all,” she hummed, kneeling above him with her hands bracketing his head. His eyes glimmered darkly and before she knew it, he had her pinned beneath him, hands on her wrists so fast, she didn’t have time to react.
“You seem distracted,” he murmured, watching her under heavy lids. Hermione remained still as he dipped his head, teeth grazing her throat. “Why so silent?”
Wildfire spread through her, too aware of his weight on her from where he was settled between her legs.
All too soon, he pulled back. Water dripped from his fringe and landed on her chest. His eyes went dark following a single drop of water slowly sliding down her cleavage. His face hardened, jaws clenched as his grip tightened around her wrists. It was then that he seemed to notice her wet shirt clinging to her breasts, nipples hardening in the breeze. Unconsciously, she arched when his warm breath touched her neck.
“ Fuck ,” he whispered before taking her mouth. His kiss was searing and sure. His hands released her wrists, one digging into her hair and the other on her hip.
“Draco,” she moaned when he detached his mouth and placed open mouth kisses from her jaw to her neck. Her flesh burned under her wet clothes. His lips, his tongue, and his teeth were on her neck, and she couldn’t fight the instinct to pull him closer and wrap her legs around him.
She trembled under his touch as he gently nipped her neck and almost missed his confession against her skin.
What have you unleashed in me?
She arched again, nipples rubbing against his hard chest, needing some sort of friction. She gasped when his hips ground into her. Hard. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, needing more but all too soon, it was gone.
“I — ” Cold air came between them and Hermione, still in a daze, blinked up at Draco who had pulled away.
Hermione took a moment to calm herself and regain her senses. Once ready, she noticed him a few feet away, his back turned towards her. His shirt was still wet, highlighting the corded tension of his back.
“Draco — ” she began as she got back on her feet. His fists clenched to his sides.
“I’m sorry,” his head hung, still refusing to turn towards her.
Slowly she approached him from behind and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder blade. When he relaxed, she wrapped his arms around him.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said, placing a kiss on his back. “There’s nothing to rush, Draco.”
She would be patient, whether or not he would ever be ready. This had happened many times, but it had never gotten this far. He would be ready on his own terms, or maybe he never would be. What they had now was more than enough.
He nodded, remaining quiet before turning around and engulfing her in his arms, burying his head in her neck. His eyes shut as she held on tighter and did not let go.
***
“Mini should take bweak!”
Hermione looked up from the parchment she was reading on another account of the snake only to find Scorpius, arms crossed, perched in his father’s arms. She admitted a break was almost impossible of late. The mission was set in a couple of days and she was strung up on being prepared. It turned out that although the Cistrine Forest itself was peaceful, it had a tendency to magically shift which explained how they and the scouts had not seen anything unusual during their previous visits.
“Maybe after I get through this section?” Hermione asked hopefully at the frowning boy who pouted adorably. “Alright,” she relented, pulling herself up on wobbly feet. She did not know how long she had been hunched in the same position.
“Here,” Draco said, handing Scorpius over to her. Scorpius giggled and clung to her making little monkey noises before burying his face into her shoulder.
“What do you want to do, Scorp?”
“Can we — can we make flower crowns for Watsy and auntie Pansy and uncle Blaisie and uncle Tee-ow and auntie Loony?”
Draco coughed, hiding his laughter at Scorpius’ name for Luna. Hermione glared at Draco. “It’s Luna , love. But yes, let's go out on the porch.”
Scorpius whooped in joy as they made their way out the library.
“Draco, are you coming?” she asked upon realizing he hadn’t followed them.
“I’ll catch up with you,” he replied. Hermione merely shrugged and left.
By the time they had made their flower crowns and she had given Scorpius a snack and drink, she realized Draco still hadn’t joined them, having been too distracted with the little boy taking her attention. In fact, it was almost suspicious how he seemed especially eager to distract her but she brushed it off.
After finally getting Scorpius down for a nap despite his desperate attempts to stay awake, she went to resume her work. She had just taken a deep breath before reentering the library, steeling herself for the workload when she froze in the doorway. Hermione blinked at the scene before her — there, on the desk was Draco Malfoy, face deep in her research, spectacles on. She stood gaping upon noticing that he had gone through the pile of books, journals, and parchment she had yet to finish off for the day.
“You know,” he drawled, without looking up, “some of us are more capable than you think.”
He looked up at her, a smug smile on his face. Hermione flushed. “I should organize this with the system I’ve been using — ”
“Already done. Though on the surface it's quite chaotic, it’s clever really,” he said, casually arranging the parchments so they were stacked evenly spaced from each other. “You categorize them by field and subject, then by dates. You have a special pile — over here — for intersectional topics. You use single underlines for interesting information, stars for important information, question marks — well that’s obvious,” Draco paused, casually wiping his spectacles, “then you use alphanumeric symbols to reference other texts. Did I get anything wrong?”
Hermione stared at him for another moment, completely disbelieving at his attention to detail. She sometimes forgot how observant he was.
A realization struck her. “Is that why Scorpius was trying so hard to distract me today?” She put her hands on her hips.
Draco casually leaned backward, tilting his head at her. “Scorpius and I came to an agreement this morning that would satisfy both parties,” he said crisply.
Hermione tried to keep her pointed expression but she couldn’t stop the smile that cracked on her face. She shook her head.
“I also included summaries of the relevant insights on the texts you didn’t go through yourself so you don’t waste time skimming the full notes in obsessive details since I had a feeling it was something you would do.” Draco stood to full height and rounded the desk to approach her. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Well, Granger? Did I meet the Golden Girl’s standards?” he whispered, brushing his lips along her neck.
Hermione swallowed. “Yes,” she stammered, leaning into him. She felt his chest rumble as he chuckled into her hair. “Thank you.”
It was still strange to have help, to have someone to share her burdens with. It was difficult to have that level of trust regarding her work and to let go of control, but Draco had studied her, been willing to learn her and it still surprised her. Hermione didn’t know how to verbalize how much the act meant to her. Because he understood her, he saw her and was unafraid and unintimidated. To him, she was just Hermione, not the Golden Girl, the Chosen One’s best friend, the witch whom everyone relied on. It was to be treated as human and reminded that she did not have to carry the weight of her burdens alone.
“Anytime.”
Hermione sighed, relaxing into his arms.
***
“Oh, hello Hermione, Draco,” Luna greeted as she looked up from the work table with binocular-like glasses that made her eyes jut out like a blue-eyed bug. Draco froze for a moment then was even more stunned to see Theo beside her, casually donning a matching pair of the ridiculous glasses.
“Thought I felt the room freeze over. Should’ve guessed it was just you, Draco.” Theo grinned at Draco’s scowl while Hermione chuckled at the comment.
Draco took Theo in for a moment, noting a lightness to him — he seemed relaxed. Although by nature he had always approached life with a chaotic sense of humor such that he was capable of saying the most ridiculous comments about any situation, since the Dark Lord won, there was an undercurrent of darkness that had edged him though he tried to hide it. Now he seemed lighter, more like his old self. Escaping the Dark Lord seemed to relieve whatever churned inside of him. Draco wondered if it was due to a certain witch.
“Thanks for the invite — I’ve been reading the reports on your progress and I’ve been excited to have a look at your experiments,” Hermione said excitedly, already trying to take a peek at the work table. “I’m particularly intrigued with how you used runes to — ”
Hermione went rigid at the sight of red hair.
“Ginny, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Hermione said politely, eyeing the witch who cautiously walked down the last steps of the stairs. Ginny’s eyes flickered between Draco and her.
“Heard you were coming by. I had to drop off some supplies for Luna so I thought I’d stay for a bit,” she said stiffly. “Thought we could catch up. Like old times. What’d you say?”
Hermione took a moment, assessing Ginny. She should have anticipated this. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation about her relationship with Draco. But there simply was no avoiding it. It was time she set things straight, not just for her sake but for Draco and Scorpius. She didn’t mind comments circulating about her, but she would not tolerate whatever rumors they spread about the two Malfoys she cared about.
“Sure,” Hermione responded with a forced smile. Tension filled the air until finally Ginny broke it by jerking her head towards the back door.
Before Hermione made to follow, she looked up at Draco to tell him she wouldn’t be long. Her words were stuck in her throat due to the severe look of tension on his face that did little to hide the flicker of guilt in his eyes.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. When she pulled back, his eyes fluttered shut. Briefly she brushed her knuckles against his cheek, smiling slightly as his features relaxed.
Finally he opened his eyes and stared back at her intently. “I’ll be waiting,” he murmured. Hermione smiled in response, turning towards the back door only to be met by a tight-faced Ginny in the doorway.
Ignoring her incredulous look, Hermione walked past her into the garden.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Hermione asked casually, brushing her fingers over a bush of orange radishes — Dirigible Plums if she remembered properly, the same fruits Luna wore as earrings.
“Mione…” Hermione turned to Ginny, her icy demeanor thawing, true concern in her eyes. “Talk to me. What’s going on between you and Malfoy?”
“Ginny,” Hermione began, rubbing her temples, “I don’t owe anyone an explanation, even you.” Hermione noticed the hurt on Ginny’s face. A flash of guilt went through her. “And I know you care and just want the best for me, but I won't argue or fight with you. There’s so many things you don’t understand, so many things that have changed — not just about Draco, but me . You don’t know me either, Gin.”
Ginny looked at her with a dumbfounded expression.
“Hermione, where’s this coming from? I don’t understand. I know this war has been hard,” Hermione laughed coldly at this, “ — but we’re all going through it together . You’ve been pushing us out as well for a long time now. Don’t say we haven’t reached out.”
Hermione couldn’t contest that — they had reached out. But how could she explain it? How could she explain that she wasn't the same and that she felt suffocated from the weight and pressure of being the same person she had been in the past. She didn’t feel like she belonged with them anymore because it became clear on those nights she had tried to open up to them early in the war that they could not meet her at the level she had needed them to. But in many ways, it wasn’t their fault either.
“ Harry knew the importance of sticking together and not letting the war get between us. Just talk to me.” Ginny stepped closer, eyes imploring.
Hermione swallowed, tears prickling her eyes at the mention of Harry. Ginny was right — Harry wouldn’t have wanted the war to get between them and neither had she but she hadn’t expected so much to change. Because how could you build any kind of relationship without understanding? How many times could you try to get someone to understand, to listen, but they simply did not speak the same language you did?
“Ginny,” she croaked, “sometimes people can only follow you so far. And sometimes they just can’t. I know you guys have tried to reach out but it hasn’t been what I needed. I’ve felt like an outsider, even in my own skin for a long time. I’ve grown out of the girl you became friends with. After everything, I think there would be something wrong if I didn’t.”
Ginny absorbed her words, trying to understand them.
Hermione continued. “You can take any resentment out on me, but I refuse to allow anyone to put blame on Draco. Don’t you even dare bring Scorpius into this. Draco has his own past but he has come so far but he owes none of you an explanation either. And despite our differences, we found in each other someone capable of understanding. It’s almost terrifying but he makes me feel… alive.”
Ginny looked stunned at her admission but she nodded her head slowly. “I understand — I mean I think I do,” she said, giving Hermione a sad smile. “I refuse to give up on us because we’re family, Hermione, despite the rift between us. I — we care. And I’m sorry we haven’t been able to make you feel like you could talk to us.” A wayward tear streamed down Hermione’s face. “But I understand and we’ll give you space. You’re right — it will take time for us to wrap our heads around you and Malfoy. But I want to. Perhaps when all this is over.”
Hermione looked at Ginny’s face, a sharpness to her features that made her look so much older than the girl she knew who blushed around Harry, unable to even look him in the eyes. But there was a resolve clear in her eyes and Hermione thought it perhaps looked like a start.
“I’d like that,” Hermione smiled, a genuine one.
Ginny smiled back and turned to leave, but stopped.
“Hermione?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re happy with him?” Ginny asked, searching her eyes.
“I am.”
The witch nodded, still some hint of uncertainty in her eyes but she didn’t say anything. She was trying and that was enough. With a crack she disappeared, leaving Hermione standing alone, emotionally drained but feeling somewhat lighter. Maybe their friendship would never mend, but this was a start. At least they were beginning to understand each other. Ginny seemed ready to listen and Hermione felt ready to talk — someday.
Hermione took her time, walking back to the cottage as she replayed the conversation in her head. She paused however upon hearing voices near the backdoor that was slightly ajar.
“ — I’m just saying, mate,” Theo’s voice sounded. “I know I’m usually the one bringing all the joy into your broody life,” Hermione heard a scoff, “ — but you know you can talk to me. After everything you’ve been through, Circe, we didn’t know what to think when the Manor burned down and heard nothing of you for months except rumors.”
Draco sighed. “I — I know. And I’d like to thank you all for everything you’ve done. Not just for me, but Scorpius and Hermione.”
There seemed to be a stunned silence from Theo.
“Was that a thank you? Damn,” Theo chuckled. “But you look better. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s because of a certain bushy-haired witch.” Hermione could hear the grin in Theo’s voice.
Hermione waited as silence permeated the air except for the whirring of metal objects and Luna’s soft hum.
“You — you really care for her don’t you?”
Hermione’s heart stuttered. “I love her.”
The words sounded so sure as if it was a simple fact of nature, she almost thought she imagined it. This was the first time he heard him speak openly and candidly about his feelings. She most certainly felt them — that had been the way it had been between them. Draco didn’t vocalize his feelings, but he showed them in the simple things. Hence it stunned her, hearing the words, hearing the confirmation.
Shaking herself, Hermione made her presence known, opening the backdoor. The boys looked up. Theo grinned cheekily while Draco shifted uncomfortably.
“Welcome back, Hermione,” Luna chimed, swirling on her stool whilst dangling a vegetable by the root almost hypnotically.
“We’re ready to show you our progress when you are,” Theo said cheerfully, joining Luna at the work table.
Half of Hermione’s concentration was on the offensive and defensive weapons they’ve been working on and the other on Draco’s words.
“… and here we have an improved version of the device that detonates anti-Apparition wards. We were able to reduce the size to make it more portable,” Theo explained.
“That’s impressive,” Hermione commented, rolling the snitch-like object in her palm.
“It’s a vast improvement from the prototype we… err… tested out when we saved you. We were also able to increase the speed and improve the duration at which it takes effect. But we’re still working on it,” Theo said with a serious and calculated look. “Not very subtle either in terms of sound when used. So we’re tweaking it.”
“We’re also looking into making sure it repels orloflies — can be quite troublesome as they make apparition more difficult, you see,” Luna said in her dreamy voice. “Often the main cause of splinching.”
Hermione bit back a comment, sharing a look with Draco who had a confused expression on his face.
To their surprise, Theo didn’t contradict. “Yes, there are actually some energies that disrupt apparition. We’re looking to make sure our device repels those energies.”
“From orloflies ?” Draco said, an eyebrow raised.
“Err yes.” As Luna hummed distracted by a brown moth that landed on her finger, Theo shrugged his shoulders behind her back. Hermione chuckled.
“Would you like a drink? I made an infusion of Gurdyroot, myself. Hermione? Draco? I know it’s your favorite, Theodore,” Luna said, jumping off her stool and returning with four hovering cups before they could even respond.
Draco swirled the dark purple juice, gagging when he smelled the liquid mucous scent. He glanced at Hermione who had a similar look of repulsion. She quickly forced a smile on her face, however, when Luna looked at them.
“Thanks,” Theo said, stunning both Draco and Hermione when he took a hearty drink. And another, even if he turned the same color of her drink as he did. “Definitely my favorite.”
Luna flashed him a delighted smile, and, eyes only on her, Theo took another sip without flinching.
***
“Scorpius?” Hermione asked, looking up as Draco entered the library.
“Still napping.” Draco hesitated once before he sat next to her on the couch. “How was your talk with Ginny?”
“She asked about us.”
Hermione could feel his gaze intently on hers, the tension in the room growing thick.
“She doesn’t understand — I don’t think anyone does really,” Hermione laughed without humor. “But she said she would try. She understands that it will take time. Ginny and I — ,” Hermione searched for the words, “I know you already observed it but we’ve just grown apart. And perhaps we won’t find each other back after this war, perhaps we will. But we’ve agreed to try. And I think she’s starting to wrap around… us . Even me — the person I am now.” Hermione steeled herself, meeting his eyes. “She knows I’m happy — with you, and I think she sees that,” Hermione whispered.
Draco’s eyes widened at her admission, his breathing stalling. Draco wasn’t the only one who wasn’t very vocal about their feelings.
Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione looked at her fidgeting hands.“I — I heard what you said to Theo,” she heard him swallow, “I swear I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I caught the latter part…”
Hermione didn't know what compelled her to bring it up. Perhaps it was because there were so many things she wanted to say but couldn’t find the right words to express them. Words had power and had been the source of her knowledge and understanding of the world around her. But it felt so lacking in the face of what she felt for him. What she felt was complicated and yet so simple all at once. And after seeing what he had gone through silently, she wanted to make sure he knew that there were no doubts nor uncertainties.
At his silence, she looked up. Draco had an unreadable expression on his face.
“I know we’re not the vocal sort about our feelings, but I — ”
“Hermione,” he said firmly, stopping her from babbling. “Do you expect me to deny it?” he said, looking at her incredulously. “Surely you must know… ”
There was a naked, raw expression in his face as words failed her.
“Surely, you must know,” Draco’s throat bobbed. “I love you.”
Hermione didn’t realize tears slipped down her cheeks until Draco cupped her face, rubbing his thumbs gently on her cheekbones.
“Draco…”
“Don’t — don’t say it because you feel like you have to,” he gritted his teeth, “only if you mean it. I can wait.”
“Draco,” she said firmly, finally composing herself, a fierce determination burning in her. “You’re an absolute fool if you think I don’t feel the same, if not more. I love you. Without hesitation or reservation. I love you.”
Draco shivered, his lids fluttering shut. Hermione’s heart twisted at the vulnerability in his face. Hermione leaned forward, brushing her nose gently against his. At her touch, his lips parted. Like magnets, their lips met, at first tentative. He was gentle, but when Hermione nibbled on his bottom lip, he groaned into her mouth, putting on more pressure and pulling her closer into a searing kiss. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, Hermione felt heat pool in her belly.
His fingers grazed the exposed flesh of her back and moved underneath her shirt, brushing against the curve of her breasts, eliciting a shiver down her spine. Hermione pulled back, hand on his chest. He blinked up in confusion.
“Everything’s alright,” she said, pecking his lips, “just making sure we don’t get carried away.”
Understanding washed over him. He opened his mouth.
“Draco’s it’s alright — ”
“I’m ready,” he whispered. Hermione looked at him, stunned. “I’m ready — I want it,” he repeated in between kisses. He pressed his forehead against hers.“I would surrender myself to you, willingly — if you’d have me,” he said in half agony, half desire. “I’m yours and only yours.”
I’m yours. There was something about the declaration — a willing kind of surrender. There was no claim of possessing another. Instead, it spoke of giving oneself without expectations of getting anything in return. It said, I trust you to be gentle with my heart.
“And I’m yours, Draco Malfoy,” she whispered.
The next few moments were a blur as she led him by hand to her room. After he shut the door, she caught the apprehension in his face.
“Hermione, I — aside from that night Scorpius was conceived, I’ve never — ”
Whatever he was going to say was lost when she pressed her lips to his.
“Draco, your experience doesn’t matter to me. I love you ,” she emphasized. She cupped his cheek. “Again, we don’t have to do this.”
He looked at her with resolve. “No, I want this,” he said, pulling her close. “Compared to the other men you’ve been with…”
“I’ve never loved any of those men. I want you, only you,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “Let me know if we have to stop.”
Draco nodded slowly and, with his consent to continue, she slowly unbuttoned her top. Draco’s cheeks heated when the swell of her breasts popped through her clothing.
“You can look you know,” she said, amused at his eyes flickering away from her exposed breasts, “and you can touch.”
Draco’s face snapped to hers, gray eyes darkening like an impending storm over an unsettled sea. She shrugged off her shirt and stepped closer to him. She took one of his hands, noticing a slight tremor in his fingertips, and placed it on her chest.
“Touch me, Draco,” she murmured, releasing his hand, “Do what you want with me.” She wanted him to feel safe. He deserved this kind of intimacy he never had — the kind he kept denying himself.
Finally, his hand lifted on its own accord, his fingers featherlight as they skimmed the top of her breasts, making her shiver. Then his fingers trailed up her sternum, his palm opening and gently circling her neck. She tilted her head upwards, lips parted in offering. As if compelled, he dipped his head but paused. Cool breath ghosted over her parted lips.
“You’ll be my undoing,” he murmured before he surged forward and captured her lips in his.
Hermione whimpered as he invaded her senses — tasting her, pulling her closer, pressing her body against his. Hermione tilted her head, exposing her neck as he pressed open-mouth kisses against her neck. As if with a mind of their own, her hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Hermione pressed her palms against his abdomen, feeling the taut muscles underneath. Draco groaned, pressing closer to her touch.
Needing more, Hermione pulled back, smiling at the frown on his face. She walked backwards, stepping out of her shoes and toeing off her socks. Lowering her lashes, she removed her jeans and stepped out of them.
Hermione heard his breathing hitch as she scooted backwards on the bed, only in her underwear. Finally, she looked up at him.
“Come, Draco,” she beckoned.
Eyes unwavering, he shucked off his shirt along with his shoes and socks. His body was lean and lithe, skin of pure marble littered in silver scars that she found herself yearning to memorize.
He approached the edge of the bed, eyes slowly tracing over her body.
“Hermione…” he said breathlessly, his hesitation coming back. At his desperate imploring look, Hermione got on her knees on the edge of the bed, circling her arms around his neck.
“I want you, Draco,” she whispered. She placed a soft kiss on his jaw, eliciting a deep groan from him. He gripped her hips tightly. “I want all of you. You don’t have to hold back from me.”
Hermione reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Draco felt all breath leave him. With an encouraging look, she guided his hands to her chest. Her breasts were full and heavy in his palms and she whimpered when he brushed his thumbs across her nipples.
“Draco, please,” she begged. Liquid fire went through his veins, a desire like he had never felt before at the sound of her pleas.
“Lay back, love,” he commanded gently. Her eyes blew wide but she remained quiet, biting her lip as she complied and spread her legs in invitation.
Eyes still heavy on her, he stripped out of his trousers. Draco approached, kneeling between her legs. She lay before him, afternoon sunlight dripping over her body like liquid honey. Her wild curls were spread across the pillow and her breasts. She looked up at him, brown eyes glazed, her lips swollen.
“Draco.” She squirmed, trying to press her thighs together.
His lips twitched at her impatient expression before he curled his fingers into her knickers and peeled them down her legs. Hermione hissed as cool met her damp core.
“Draco, what are you — ”
Hermione gasped when she felt him kiss her inner thigh
“You don’t have to…” she trailed off, screwing her eyes shut when his tongue licked her folds once. Twice.
“I’ve never done this before.”
Her heart rattled in her chest but she finally managed to open her eyes. She trembled at the sight of him between her thighs watching her beneath heavy lids, a look of pure hunger in his darkening irises.
“I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, grazing his lips on her heated folds and observing carefully the way her body tightened at the action.
“Okay,” she said shakily. Hermione shut her eyes again when he pressed his mouth against her cunt. This time with more pressure. He moaned at the taste of her, his hands curling around her thighs, digging into her flesh and firmly keeping her legs open for him.
“ Fuck ,” she whimpered, clenching the sheets as he lapped her up.
“Like this?” he rasped. “Tell me, Hermione. Look at me.”
Hermione’s eyes fluttered open to meet his. His eyes were dark, lips glistening and a high flush on his cheeks. Eyes still on her, he dipped his head again.
“Yes, like that,” she breathed. Draco continued, his blond head bobbing rhythmically and adding more pressure. It was profane, the wet sounds coming from his mouth on her as she writhed under his touch. He watched her underneath pale lashes, observing her every response, taking note of how she shivered when he pushed his tongue into her and the way her back arched when he sucked on her clit.
“Draco, I need you,” she groaned, feeling herself getting close, “ now .”
Her fingers slid through his fine hair, tugging him gently. He kissed her inner thigh before climbing up her body and kissing her.
He kissed her deeply and she could taste herself on him when he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself to him and fingered his waistband. Abruptly, he pulled away, face shuttering from where he was above her. His fist clenched from where it was propped by her head. She saw the faint tremors in his muscles as he tried to fight his memories, going in and out of occlusion.
“We can stop,” Hermione whispered, cupping his cheek.
“ No ,” he gritted out, finally opening his eyes. “I want this. It’s just this position it was — it just…”
“Let’s try something,” Hermione said carefully, pushing lightly against his chest until she was on top, straddling him. He stared up at her wide-eyed. “Better?”
“Yes,” he replied, his voice more steady, his expression open.
Hermione swirled her hips, feeling his clothed erection beneath her. Draco hissed, face tilting upwards, exposing the tense chords of his neck as he gripped her hips.
From her vantage, Hermione took the opportunity to look at him. “So beautiful,” she murmured, tracing his sectumsempra scar across his chest.
One of his hands slid up her body, gently grazing the scar on her face, pure reverence in his eyes. Tentatively, he cupped her cheek and pulled her down for a kiss. Her hair veiled around them, sealing them in their own world. Just Draco and Hermione, no war, no ghosts of the past, just them.
“Hermione,” he groaned when she nibbled on his neck and trailed kisses on the scars along his bare chest. She pulled back, smiling cheekily at him.
Hermione curled her fingers once more under the waistband of his boxers, looking at him in silent questioning. He nodded, letting her strip him completely. Hermione bit her lip at the sight of his swollen cock, hard and erect. Gingerly, she wrapped her hands around his length, her fingers unable to wrap completely around him. A prominent vein pulsing against her palm
“Hermione,” he warned in a clipped voice, fingers digging in her hips when she didn’t move.
Swallowing, she began stroking his cock from base to tip. Hermione thumbed the slit of his swollen head, spreading precum and pumped his cock faster. She squirmed, feeling her arousal drip out of her at the sight and feel of him.
“Hermione, please,” he said hoarsely.
Hermione looked up, his eyes boring into hers. Draco swallowed as she lifted her hips, positioning herself above him. Their eyes remained locked on each other. She searched for any hint of hesitation or fear, but there was none.
Hermione dragged the blunt head of his cock along her folds before pressing in slowly. “ Gods ,” Draco cursed, hissing between clenched teeth.
Her breathing was tight as she sunk down on him, inch by inch, their eyes burning into each other. Her thighs shook as she took more of him, relishing the way his thick cock stretched her. Suddenly his hips jerked, impaling her further on his length. They both groaned at the stretch.
Hermione cursed, arching her spine, taking the last inch of him inside her until she was fully seated. Large hands pressed against her hip bones, gripping her roughly.
“ Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” Draco growled when she involuntarily began clenching around him. His fingers dug into her scorching flesh. Glancing down, his eyes darkened at the sight of her swollen cunt glistening and stretching around him.
“Hermione,” Draco rasped, memorizing her, committing to memory the image of her on top of him, her head thrown back, a bright flush on her cheeks and an expression of pure rapture on her face, “look at me.”
A large hand splayed on her abdomen, brushing over the slight bulge protruding there.
Hermione’s eyes blinked open before meeting his. No words could describe the reverence with which he looked at her, like some lost dream he had long denied himself. Here was a man, starved of affection. Intimacy. Touch. She wanted to show him how much he deserved it.
Needing more, she lifted herself then slammed down on him, eliciting a moan from them both. Fuck , she cursed . She brought herself up and down, up and down in an increasing rhythm. The room was filled by the sound of their skins slapping together.
“You feel so good,” Hermione said hoarsely, picking up the pace, her breasts bouncing. Draco gripped her hips so tightly she was sure it would bruise. But she could still see the control warring in his face. He was holding back.
“Let go, Draco,” she urged him. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, his bare restraint cracking. “Don’t hold back. Please. ”
His jaw ticked and something seemed to switch inside of him. Hermione gasped when he pulled her down roughly, feeling the fullness of him as he ground her hips into him. She could barely make a sound as he began thrusting inside of her whilst pulling her up and down on to him, taking control. Faster. Harder. But she didn’t mind, relishing the way he did not go gently with her. She would not break.
Hermione’s chest tightened as he began to ramble incoherently. Love you, Hermione… fuck… so good… only you… only you… love you… so fucking much….
Her thighs shivered as she played with her nipples. Draco’s gaze was heavy on her breasts bouncing with each sharp movement. The raw want in his eyes was overwhelming. Intoxicating.
Hermione felt sweat dripping down her spine and braced her hands on his chest for leverage, losing her own control as she impaled herself on his cock again and again.
“Say it,” he demanded, teeth clenched, “say it again.” He snapped his hips upward, the control he always kept leashed gone as he took what he wanted and did not hold back.
“You feel so good,” she moaned, “you make me feel so good. I love you so much.” Draco growled, thrusting upwards, harder and harder. Hermione felt her body tightening up, her pleasure building. She felt so full, so fucking full .
“Draco, I’m close.”
“ Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” Draco groaned, feeling her clench desperately around his length. His eyes drifted towards the way her supple body arched down to where his cock disappeared into her cunt, spreading her open every time she came down on him. “Look at me. Please look at me, love.”
She was everything and more than he had ever dared and allowed himself to want, no dream could come close. The sight of her body tight with pleasure above him only increased the aching desperation within him.
Hermione’s brown eyes met his, pure fire burning in them. She whimpered as her movements became more erratic and desperate. He pulled her down again and thrust upward. Once, twice, then on the third she came with a scream, eyes still locked on to him. Draco hissed as her cunt clenched tightly around him, feeling the edge of his own release. He gave her one more hard thrust, jolting her with a gasp, and emptied himself into her, filling her up.
Hermione collapsed on top of him, forehead pressed against his as they caught their breath. Still joined, they held onto each other close, bathing in a new kind of intimacy.
Hermione kissed him, slow and sweet as they both recovered from their highs. Gently, she pulled away from him, both exhaling as their combined fluids dripped from her inner thigh onto his leg. She tucked herself to his side.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern marring his features. He cupped her cheek and searched her face for any signs of pain or regret.
“I feel more than alright,” she breathed, her heart still beating rapidly and swelling with so much emotion. “I love you, Draco,” her voice cracked.
His eyes shuttered, his forehead resting against hers. When they opened, there was an emotion in them he only let her see. Silently, he traced the lines of her face before kissing her slowly. Hermione melted into him, her body weak, but she felt safe.
They stayed like that, bodies entwined. Draco held on to her, refusing to lose contact as if concerned that if he let go even just a little, she would slip away. There was nothing but profound silence and the steady beat of their hearts. This thing between them — love was not enough for what he felt. It was rapture, the closest thing a man damned could taste of religion. But unlike any god, she was real in the softness of her flesh on his palms, the sound of her breathing, and the kindness in her eyes. She was like a summoning, the reckoning of the world he had thought he was damned to live in for eternity. He knew in that moment that he would always call for her, reach for her in the light, in the darkness, in the space suspended in between. All he knew was that there was no coming back. She may not have known it, may not have known the power she held over his heart nor feel the emotions he had as violently as he did, but there was no going back. She would always be both his beginning and undoing.
Notes:
A/N: 😳 ( My first time writing a scene like this 😅)
Chapter 37: Chapter XXXVI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“One day you’ll have whatever it is you’re now so confusedly seeking. That kind of calm that comes from knowing oneself and others. But you can’t rush the arrival of that state of mind. There are things you only learn when no one teaches them. That's how it is with life. There’s even more beauty in discovering it for yourself, in spite of the suffering.”
— Clarice Lispector
Hermione’s eyes fluttered open, the afternoon sun placing warm kisses on her bare spine. Her body was sore, her limbs languid and muscles heavy with exhaustion but she felt pleasantly light. She tilted her face upwards, still keeping her cheek pressed on Draco’s chest, and observed him. He was still asleep, his face relaxed, pale lashes heavy over his lids, lips parted slightly and a light flush tainting his cheekbones. She adjusted her body against his and he unconsciously tightened his arm around her.
“How are you feeling?” His voice startled her, his eyes remaining shut.
“Sore. But good,” she whispered, still feeling the intimacy of the aftermath deep in her bones. Lightly, she trailed her fingertips over the thick ridge of his silver sectumsempra scar on his chest. He shivered under her touch. Looking up, she stilled at the intensity of his eyes. “And you?”
His eyes were unwavering as he pulled her upwards and pressed her forehead to his. “I enjoyed it,” he murmured, “I – I didn’t know it could be like that.”
Hermione smiled softly, grazing her lips against his. Her heart swelled with emotion. Eternity existed in this very moment, in the warmth of his body solid and real beneath hers, in the gentle caress of his fingers trailing her spine.
“I didn’t know it could be like that either.” Hermione didn’t miss the hint of surprise in his eyes when she pulled back. “It was… intense.”
He kissed her quietly, the press of his mouth on hers insistent before lingering as if remembering he had all the time in the world to taste her. He brushed his nose against hers.
“I wanted to make sure you enjoyed it,” he whispered, a soft vulnerability in his eyes. Intimate.
“And trust me,” she breathed, “I did.”
She kissed him this time and when they broke, they took a moment to watch their hands entwined together. Hermione was lulled by the steady beat of his heart under her ear.
“I could stay here forever,” she hummed.
“Don’t we have a couple of reports to send to Kingsley and Moody?”
Frowning, she huffed. “It can wait.” She looked up at him, a severe look on her face. “You’re not going anywhere right now, Draco Malfoy.”
She tightly wrapped her body around him, refusing to let him move. She just needed a moment longer. Or two.
He gave her a dimpled smile making him look carefree and young. Tongue in his cheek, he grinned.
She felt ridiculous, like she could just laugh. She felt like her chest had cracked open and she could breathe. The intensity almost scared her. She meant what she said that she didn’t know it could be like this.
She kissed him again, savoring the feeling of his smile against her lips.
***
“Hmm…?”
Draco rolled his eyes, leaning against the library doorway as he watched a certain bushy-haired witch in her natural habitat. He could tell that she was close to a dead end by the extra frizziness of her hair that she had been likely picking at (and was almost breaking free of her bun), the ink smeared on her nose, and brows pinched in frustration.
“I said Watson has information for you in the kitchen,” Draco repeated.
Hermione straightened up, blinking at him owlishly, a silent oh leaving her lips. Quickly, she marked her reading position before sticking her quill in her hair.
“What happened to him?” Draco nodded at the sleeping boy on a tiny identical study table next to Hermione’s. “Are those… glasses?”
Hermione grinned fondly. “Today he was in one of his copycat moods. He wanted to pretend he was also working on research so I transfigured a tiny table for him. Oh and I transfigured the tiny glasses he requested because he wanted to look ‘just like daddy.’ He was pleased.”
Hermione brushed her fingers over Scorpius’ sleeping face and vanished the empty cup of coco. Gently, she conjured a damp towel and wiped his chocolate mustache. “You said Watson was in the kitchen?”
“Hold on,” Draco chuckled, grabbing her wrist before she made it past him out the door, taking the towel from her. She looked at him curiously when he turned the towel over and, with full concentration, dabbed her nose. When he was done, he showed her the black ink stain left on the cloth. “Looks like Scorpius wasn’t the only one who made a mess,” he chided.
Hermione blushed and his grin widened when she tried to maintain an imperious look on her face.
Stepping back, he pulled Scorpius in his arms. The boy groaned before blinking his eyes open blearily. “Hi, Scorp.”
“Hi, daddy,” he yawned, frowning at being disrupted from his sleep. He perked up however when Draco whispered something in his ear.
“Well,” Hermione said slowly, trying to decipher the secret smile shared between them, “let’s not keep Watson waiting.”
Without waiting for him, she turned. Draco shook his head, following the witch to the kitchen.
***
“Happy Birthday!”
Hermione startled at the sight of Watson, Luna, and the Slytherins in the kitchen.
“— Mini birday, Mini birday — ” Scorpius sang once he was let down and did a little dance as he made his way to Hermione. Hermione felt tears brimming in her eyes. She scooped Scorpius up and squeezed him. She grinned over his shoulder at Blaise who raised a glass and winked at her. Pansy smirked, Theo and Luna waved their wands, shooting streamers while Watson concentrated on hovering a cake with a single candle on it.
“How — Draco did you organize this?” Hermione turned to Draco, who watched with his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway.
“Should’ve seen him, Granger,” Blaise’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “He tried commanding us here without an explanation, all vague and reticent.”
Pansy snickered. “Took ages to get it out of him that it was your birthday and he wanted us to surprise you.”
“I thought it was sweet,” Luna chimed in.
Draco scowled at the lot of them, which quickly turned into a stunned expression when Hermione caught him off guard with a kiss on the cheek and a whispered thank you. She had not expected this.
Blaise gave them a curious look and Pansy beamed triumphantly.
“Cake! Cake!” Scorpius yelled, bouncing in her arms.
“Did you make this, Watson?” Hermione asked, making her way to the table where Watson placed the cake. As she got closer, she noticed the delicate design of rose flowers and in the middle four stick figures made of icing — two large ones and two small ones, wide smiley faces on the three and a frown on one of the smaller figures. Hermione laughed at the curly mess of chocolate frosting on one of them she assumed was supposed to depict hair.
“Indeed, Watson did the baking,” the elf grunted, “and young Malfoy did the drawings in the middle.”
“You like Mini? Das Mini, me, Daddy, and Watsy!” Scorpius pointed proudly with his little finger. Draco and the others peered to look at the cake. The Zabinis laughed behind their hands.
“I love it, Scorpius.” Hermione squeezed him again. She hadn’t expected this. That morning, she had woken up, vaguely noting her birthday but got to work immediately. She hadn’t even known Draco knew. But Draco surprised her. Again.
“I’ve been practicing the special muggle rendition of the birthday song,” Theo said excitedly while Draco lit the candle with a snap of his fingers. Theo began to clear his throat, eliciting looks of horror from Pansy and Blaise. Draco paled.
“Oh, I believe I’ve heard that version before,” Luna replied. “Daddy loved singing the tune to bowtruckles. Lulled them right to sleep.”
“Well, Granger, just for you.”
Hermione looked curiously at the Slytherin as he inhaled deeply.
Before Hermione could speak, Theo opened his mouth. Draco cursed under his breath, Scorpius covered his ears, and Pansy and Blaise groaned as Theo started to sing — if it could be called such. Watson stared in shock at the oblivious Theo while Luna simply hummed and swayed to his voice.
Hermione shuddered when Theo tried to sustain the last Happy Birthday note. He sounded like a dying whale.
“Err thank you, Theo,” Hermione said, breaking the stiff silence after Theo’s voice died along with her eardrums. “I suppose I’ll blow the cake now,” Hermione smiled, watching the solitary flame flickering boldly.
Hermione felt a familiar presence brush up against her side, causing a warm calm through her. She twisted her head slightly, catching a flash of blond hair. Lips brushed against her ear. “Make a wish, Granger.” Hermione shivered, his breath ghosting the shell of her ear.
Hermione leaned forward, Scorpius still in her arms. “Give me a little help, Scorp?”
Scorpius grinned back then looked determinedly back at the candle as if it was a foe.
“Blow in three,” Pansy clasped her hands together, a softness in her face Hermione hadn’t seen on her before. “Three… two…”
Hermione shut her eyes, emotions swimming within her along with a kind of peace that had eluded her for so long. She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude in that moment, despite being in the middle of the war with people she did not expect. For friends, love… and family found in the unlikeliest of places.
Please. Let me have this. Let me have this.
“… one.”
Together, she and Scorpius blew the candle out, but the light remained burning inside of her.
***
“Yes, Pansy?” Hermione said in an amused voice as she turned her attention to the witch perched on the couch beside her. Pansy looked at her expectantly, pristine hands steepled together.
Pansy cocked her head, smiling wildly despite her squinted eyes. It was terrifying.
The witch scooted closer to her. “Now, now, Granger,” Pansy said with deceptive politeness as she reached over and patted Scorpius on the head while he played at their feet with a paper plane. Scorpius glanced at Pansy curiously before continuing to make plane noises. He showed an interest in the muggle invention when one zoomed over their heads a few days prior.
As Pansy started one of her tirades, Hermione distracted herself by observing Draco, Theo, and Blaise in conversation across the room. Sensing her gaze, Draco’s eyes flickered to her. Theo cracked a joke she could not hear and Blaise tilted his head back in laughter but Draco’s eyes remained on her. He raised an amused brow at her silent plea for him to save her from Pansy.
“Granger!” Pansy growled, snapping her green polished nails in her face.
“Hmm… ?” Hermione blinked and turned back to the witch. Pansy pouted at her.
“I said , who said I love you first? You or Draco?”
Hermione bristled. “We – I — ”
Pansy arched a sleek brow. “Really, Granger,” she drawled, examining her nails, “don’t think we weren’t victims to yours and Draco’s painfully pining eyes and angsty yearning looks for months .”
Hermione blushed.
“Fine,” Hermione answered in a clipped voice. A smug smile plastered over Pansy’s face. When Hermione didn’t continue, she glared.
Hermione sighed in defeat.
“Well I sort of overheard him talking to Theo and it slipped out… then I wanted to confess the words to him so he wouldn’t feel any doubts about how I feel about him but he got to it first again and thought I needed more time… but I didn’t.”
“ And ?”
“Ouch! No need to pinch!” Hermione scowled, rubbing her arm. “I said it back. I don’t know — this whole thing just crept onto us. He — he’s my best friend. He’s worked so hard to do better. We were both scared in the beginning but when we started being open and honest, when he told me about his past, about Astoria — ”
“He told you about Astoria?” Pansy squeaked, pure shock in her face.
“He did,” Hermione confirmed, smiling sadly at the memory of the young girl who was also a victim of the war, who never got a chance to live and make her own choices.
Pansy swallowed. “He never told us about her but we knew some things. Blaise told me about what he did with the potion, how he tried to help her,” she whispered. “But I know the months after Scorpius’ birth were hard — being a single father and Astoria dying. Then Narcissa.”
“He’s a good man,” Hermione replied, “even if he refuses to believe it.”
“He is,” Pansy hummed. “And now you’ve turned him into a simpering Gryffindor,” she chuckled.
“Pansy!” Hermione chided, lightly slapping her shoulder but still cracking a smile.
“Well,” Pansy responded, her lips twitching, “you’re quite the Slytherin too, Granger. Not that I’m complaining. But all teasing aside,” she suddenly looked serious, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m really happy for you both.”
Hermione’s eyes softened and she returned her quiet smile. With all their history, Hermione would never have thought that she would find a friend in Pansy Parkinson. Despite their differences, they both held a quiet respect for each other. Whatever this was — this friendship — it was different from what she had had before. She never had a close female friend in Hogwarts. Ginny had been the closest, but their relationship had been in some ways forced due to her closeness with Harry and Ron. Pansy understood her in many ways and she was much softer than the hard exterior she created for herself. In her green eyes, Hermione saw a fierce loyalty and protectiveness that mirrored her own. Before Hermione could respond, the couch dipped beside her, an arm slipping around her shoulders.
“Pans, your husband needs you for something.” Draco pulled Hermione closer.
“Well, Draco,” Pansy said tightly, “I’m not my husband’s bitch so if he needs something he can do it himself.”
“I didn’t say I needed you to do something for me ,” Blaise scowled, coming over. “I just needed you because I was simply missing you, darling.”
Pansy pursed her lips but titled her cheek and accepted his kiss on her cheek. Blaise chuckled.
“There’s a slice of cake left. What do you say about sharing it and leaving these lovebirds alone,” Blaise said, shooting her a winning smile.
“I’d have to think about it. Granger here was telling me all about muggle fashion. Personally, I’m still not over how these muggle shorts just shape her legs and arse.” Pansy grinned back in challenge at Draco’s glare. “I heard there was a thing called mini skirts?”
Hermione flushed when everyone’s gaze drifted to her bare legs and she crossed them. Draco stiffened before draping his arm across her thighs. Hermione's cheeks reddened further as the Zabinis snickered at Draco’s dark look.
“You funny!” Scorpius yelled, releasing a fit of giggles from where he sat on Theo’s lap. Luna chuckled from her perch on the arm of Theo’s chair and Hermione blinked when she saw the pair wearing matching beetle necklaces that Theo seemed to be showing Scorpius. It looked absolutely ridiculous but he didn’t seem to care.
The conversation turned towards Theo’s new taste in jewelry, which Luna looked excited to speak on. Pansy looked in horror when the beetle necklaces began moving . Hermione was distracted however by Draco absentmindedly rubbing circles around her inner thigh.
***
Draco cracked an eye open only to be met with the sight of Theo standing over him, a single brow raised.
“Fuck off, Nott,” Draco mumbled, shutting his eyes once more and keeping his head laid on Hermione’s lap while she ran her fingers through his hair.
“Did Scorpius go down for his nap alright?” Hermione asked, humor in her voice.
“Like a little pebble,” Luna answered.
“He’s not too used to being around so many people. It tired him out quite quickly,” Draco responded, suppressing a groan when Hermione rubbed circles into his temple.
“Where’s Blaise?” Theo asked.
Draco sighed, opening his eyes. “In the back with Pansy, joining her for her daily meditation,” Draco replied. “Now if you don’t mind…”
Theo chuckled and muttered something under his breath as he walked away with Luna but Draco ignored it, choosing to shut his eyes. Hermione’s hand rested on his chest as her gentle laugh spread warmth through him.
It was almost terrifying how easy it was to surrender to his emotions for her. Draco thought he had experienced every emotion in life now that had seen and experienced things there was no coming back from. And yet he found himself surprised at what he was capable of feeling.
He loved them. He would do anything for them. It was the same love that burned in his mother’s eyes when she smiled as she was consumed by flames. It was also in his father — his father who fucked up and did not know how to express his love in ways other than how he was taught. And in understanding love, Draco understood forgiveness. Forgiveness for his father, for the man he never became. And forgiveness for himself so that he could look at himself in the mirror and see a man who would make himself worthy of them, worthy of the life and dream he didn’t even know he could have.
“We have a guest.” Draco opened his eyes and sat up as Blaise and Pansy walked into the room, a guarded expression on their faces. Theo stepped in front of Luna and Draco and Hermione stood as Ronald Weasley walked into the room.
“Erm hello,” Ron said awkwardly, scanning the room of Slytherins.
“Ron?” Hermione asked, confused at his arrival.
“Happy Birthday, Mione,” Ron greeted nervously. Hermione crossed her arms. “Well I won't stay long but I was wondering if we could have a chat.”
Hermione turned to Draco but his look only showed his silent support for whatever she decided. When she didn’t form a response, he tilted his head, silently asking if she wanted him to get rid of Ron. Hermione shook her head, releasing a tense breath.
On an impulse, she went on her tiptoes and kissed Draco softly. She smiled against his lips at his surprise, vaguely hearing Blaise whistle in the background.
“Alright,” Hermione said after pulling away, turning to Ron who had gone beet-red.
Not waiting for a response, Hermione walked past him. She had already reached the hallway when she heard him rushing to keep up with her. Silently, they made their way to the back door porch.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, keeping her gaze trained on a sparrow bird flitting between the branches. Hermione blinked and her view was blocked by Ron’s tall form.
“I — I know I’m not good with words and I’ve never been capable of thinking before speaking… or doing. I also never tended to really think about how what I said or did affected you since you always seemed so above everything and capable of handling it all,” he rushed, looking at her pleadingly with clear cerulean eyes. “But I’m sorry. Not just about our argument but leaving you. Again . I’ve been reflecting a lot and fuck I’m still far from figuring things out — figuring who I am without Harry or you —”
Hermione swallowed.
“But, I want to try. I know things are not the same and you’re not the same or perhaps I never really understood you,” he smiled sadly at her. “I’m willing to wait and gain your trust again to be back in your life as the friend you deserve. I understand your need for space and I hold no expectation about who you’ve become — even if that means being with a git like Malfoy.” Despite his words, there was a strained humor in them which made Hermione soften.
“Well erm that’s really all I had to say. I didn’t mean to crash your birthday but I had to let you know,” he said shifting. “But I totally understand — ”
“Thank you, Ron,” Hermione whispered. He looked at her incredulously. “You’re right, things are different now but I — I appreciate this and I’m willing to try too. It will take time.”
“Brilliant,” Ron exhaled, laughing breathlessly. “I mean you know I’ll be around when you’re ready. I’m taking some time for myself too, figuring things out on my own.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Oh and I found this and thought you should have it.”
From his pocket he handed her a faded photograph of Harry, him, and her in the Burrow. Hermione felt tears prickling her eyes at the younger version of themselves laughing at something Ron said, Hermione in the middle, her arms around her best friends.
“It’s not much,” Ron rambled, “but I thought you should have it just to remind you that even if Harry’s gone and things don’t go back to the way they were, that doesn’t mean the three of us didn’t have a true friendship, that we never loved or cared for each other. I’ll always be grateful for that, even if we won't have it again.”
Ron startled when she hugged him. She didn’t know if things would ever be the same, but it meant a lot for her that he was finally starting to open his eyes and see her for who she was. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around her. They stood like that for a moment before she pulled back, wiping her eyes.
“Thank you — I love it,” she said, brushing her fingers over the photograph. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect this of you, Ron.”
Ron scratched his head sheepishly. “Malfoy has a way with words. It took time to process it without letting my anger for him get in the way. Still a git but…”
“Draco?” Hermione asked, confused.
At her expectant look, he sighed. “After our fight, Malfoy gave me words of… advice. I didn’t understand it at first and was angry, but his words stayed with me. Not sure how he got my muggle phone number but when he messaged me asking if I was ready to think about his advice and that it was your birthday…”
Hermione blinked at him, disbelieving of what he had just said.
“He isn’t a terrible bloke, I suppose,” Ron mumbled. “Well don’t tell him I said that, yeah?”
Still stunned, Hermione nodded, turning the information in her mind. Ron quickly said his goodbyes and she walked him to the boundary of the wards where he disapparated, not before giving her his muggle phone number. She was still processing what had happened when she realized she had four missed messages in her inbox.
DM: Hbd
DM: Theo taught me that. He said it’s what muggles use to greet each other on birthdata.
DM: birthdays
DM: I love you.
Hermione grinned, a myriad of emotions raging through her veins for the man who had put his feelings for Ron aside for her — who was selfless, kind, and who constantly surprised her with how much he understood her.
HG: I love you too, Draco.
***
“Where’s everyone?” Hermione asked once she stepped back into the library, spotting only Draco on the couch, spectacles on and reading.
He looked up, carefully watching her expression as he put his book aside. “They had to go but didn’t want to disturb you. They told me to pass on their goodbyes and happy birthdays.” Draco frowned. “Pansy said you owe her alone time without my, I quote, ‘overbearing presence.’”
Hermione chuckled, slipping into his arms. She felt him relax around her and she trailed figures on his chest while he remained silent, grazing his lips on her forehead.
“Thank you,” Hermione whispered.
“Oh? What for?”
Hermione pulled back slightly, enough to look up at him.
“For Ron, for this,” she said, referring to the surprise party. “For being my best friend. For taking care of me, listening to me, and loving me,” she murmured, her eyes dipping to his lips which parted under her gaze.
“Don’t think too much on it,” he responded, tilting her chin upward so she could meet his eyes. “I know that look. It hasn’t been a burden to do this for you. Taking care of you hasn’t been a burden — it’s the easiest thing and I do this all willingly because I love you, because I want to. You deserve it all, Hermione,” he whispered, grazing his lips softly against hers.
Feeling impatient, she tried to capture his lips but he evaded her, a teasing glint in his silver eyes.
“ Draco ,” she growled. He titled his head back and laughed a carefree laugh that sent tingles all the way to her toes.
“At your service,” he said before surging forward and capturing her lips into a searing kiss.
Draco nipped on her bottom lip and her mouth parted further in a gasp. Pulling her closer Draco slipped his tongue in hers, tasting her, invading her senses. She relished the rush of pleasure that surged through her.
“I’m wake!”
Draco groaned as a small blond figure launched itself at them.
“Scorpius,” Draco hissed as the boy squirmed and squeezed between them.
“Hello, love.” Hermione chuckled as the tot burrowed himself between them before pulling Draco and her closer to cocoon him.
“Can I get more cake?” The boy batted his pale eyelashes at them.
“If Aunt Pansy left any,” Draco sighed, kissing his temple. “But first, as punishment for interrupting Mini and me…”
Before the child could react, Draco started tickling him. Scorpius shrieked in laughter, trying to shield himself with Hermione’s body which only served in making Draco attack her as well.
“Draco!” Hermione screamed, as her body contorted, a feral look on his face as he continued to tickle her sides. Scorpius laughed too and Hermione’s cheek hurt from smiling.
Their laughter rang throughout the room, mixing together into a crescendo that never faltered.
***
The calm before the storm was a different kind of calm — it was laced with the tangible taste of foreboding. It loomed in the air like the faint trace of lightning, an undercurrent humming in the static air. It felt like the echo of thunder rumbling in the distance, slowly approaching but inevitable. And yet when the storm finally came, it struck as if you never saw it coming. You could never be prepared, you could only react. No matter how much you knew, how long you anticipated it, you didn’t know where, when, how long, or how hard it would hit you. The truth was that nothing could prepare you for how much it would hurt, how much it would destroy, and how much you would lose.
War loomed on the horizon and Hermione could feel it as she stood at the edge of the mountain overlooking the vast expense of the Cistrine forest. With Scorpius and Draco in her life, she felt as if she had more to lose now. But also more to fight for.
“Do you see it?” Draco asked, coming to her side.
She and Draco had tracked down the magical village Soros had described — the Maltasi village. It had been difficult finding the precise location as it had been hidden by enchantments.
“It’s supposed to be here…” Hermione murmured, scrutinizing the foot of the mountain where a village should have been.
“Let’s get down there and inspect. It’s likely they’re hidden by wards.”
Draco led the way down the mountain, making sure to keep them out of direct sight. They both kept their guards up while they surveyed the area. It was calm when they entered the forest, birds twittering in the distance and the thick canopy of leaves branching overhead. They circled the area but found no sign of the village
Hermione huffed in frustration. “Maybe we should — ”
“Wait.” Brows furrowed, Draco held his hand out. “Do you feel it? There’s a vibration over there.”
Hermione walked over to him and lifted her palm. Her fingers twitched as she approached, a faint thrum tickling her fingertips.
“There’s a kind of repelling magic as well. And wards,” she confirmed after casting a series of spells.
Hermione tried to assess the space further, but could find nothing but open space.
“Give me a moment,” Hermione whispered before concentrating on dismantling layer upon layer of glamor and wards. It was intricate, as if built up over time through accretion.
The air shimmered ahead of them as she broke through a small hole in the barrier. She felt Draco’s presence behind her.
“Just one more,” she grunted, brows sweating as she continued creating a small hole in the wards.
Hermione gasped when the last of the wards disappeared only to be faced with five men and women, wands pointed at her. Immediately Draco was in front of her, wand raised steadily.
If it weren't for the wands pointed at them, Hermione would have taken a moment to watch the glamor and enchantments disappear revealing the small village around them surrounding the foot of the mountain.
“What do you want?” the leader, Hermione presumed, demanded. He was younger than she expected — no older than them. Long haired and dark-eyed, magical tattoos swirled around his bare torso in black ink.
“We are not here to hurt anybody, just looking for answers on a particular snake,” Draco said carefully.
The other men and women behind their leader shared looks but did not put their wands down. There was something different about their wands. The wands seemed to be delicately entwined with ancient wood and bones, very different from the ones they had at Ollivander’s, but beautiful nonetheless. Their simple tunics and leather pants spoke of their distance from the outside world and likely the war itself.
“We just want to ask some questions and then we’ll leave,” Hermione said again when they didn’t respond.
“Those Death Eaters,” a tall woman spat, “are you a part of them?”
“No,” Hermione said adamantly. “We’re from the True Order. We’re trying to stop those Death Eaters and end this war once and for all.”
The leader dropped his wand but the defensiveness in his expression did not waver. “It is not our war.”
“Yes, it isn’t. But what we’re fighting for is peace, for the violence to end. The Dark Lord will not stop and will continue to spread his power. It will also reach here, if he hasn’t already.” Perhaps it was something in her face, but eventually the leader nodded, signaling his people to stand down.
Draco dropped his wand but still stood on guard. Hermione glanced around, noticing the rest of the village people watching from the protection of wooden structures she assumed were their homes.
“I’m Hermione Granger and this is Draco Malfoy,” Hermione offered up.
The man looked her up and down then nodded. “I go by Khaius.”
Hermione relaxed slightly. “We just wanted to know where we can find the Senex Ahas — any clues or trails you can provide.”
“We will not involve ourselves in your war. But if you want answers, go to the cave on the other side of the mountain. You’ll find answers there.”
“Thank you,” Hermione said sincerely. “All we want is for this to end so we can progress forward.”
Khaius smirked but it did not meet his eyes. “And this progress, Hermione Granger, what would it look like? Exploiting natural resources and eroding more of the earth's natural habitat, is this your progress? Even before your Dark Lord came into power, we’ve seen what your ministry’s definition of progress is.”
“You’re not wrong,” she replied without batting an eye. Boldly, she turned her wrist, revealing her Mudblood scar for them all to see. “I won't deny that even on our side we have a very long way to go not just in caring for our natural environment but also its creatures and even making strides towards equality amongst ourselves. We are still learning and unlearning a lot of things. But we hope to do better and at least stop the hate and suffering the Dark Lord is spreading.”
Khaius did not respond. He only tilted his head, not bothering to hide his curiosity in his gaze. His interest. Draco shifted closer to her.
When Khaius only nodded, they turned to go.
“Oh,” Khaius called out, stopping them before the glamor completely engulfed them along with the rest of the village. “When you leave the cave, do not look back.”
Before she could say anything, he disappeared behind the wards and enchantments.
Silently, Draco and Hermione followed the directions towards the other side of the mountain, Hermione’s nose in their map.
“What did you think of Khaius?” Draco’s voice cut through the silence.
“Well, I get that they do not want to be involved in the war. He has to think of his village. Didn’t expect him to be so young — ”
“Or shirtless,” Draco muttered.
Hermione blinked in surprise. “Uh yes I suppose. Interesting tattoos. Never seen magical ones like that.”
Hermione arched a brow at Draco’s long look. “What?”
“Had a good look, I see,” he drawled. She rolled her eyes and he chuckled.
“I’ll have you know, there’s only one man I care to see shirtless,” Hermione replied, boldly looking him up and down appreciatively. Draco smirked, shaking his head as she walked ahead of him.
It was not long before they finally made it to the cave carved into the side of the mountain. Draco whispered charms to check for traps but they found none. There was only the thick eeriness as they approached, a certain heaviness in the air as if piercing through a shadowy veil.
Upon entering, they came across a lake. There was no light except for a single hole on the ceiling where light beamed through onto the small island in the middle of a lake. And on the island was an old acacia tree.
“I think our answer lies there,” Hermione murmured, feeling a distant pull to the tree.
Just as they reached the waters, a walkway made of moss appeared before them, connecting to the island. Carefully they walked, the moss firm beneath them.
“I don’t like this place.” Draco’s eyes flickered towards a silver Death Eater mask floating below the surface of the black lake.
Hermione recoiled as more sunken bodies appeared below the dark surface. They seemed to be suspended before an inky void that had no end. Draco and Hermione carefully avoided the water, spells ready on the tip of their tongue.
Once they reached the island, Draco went rigid.
“Draco…” Hermione’s voice trembled, grasping his fingers when the bark of the acacia tree shifted and a face appeared. A cacophony of voices surrounded them as the face began to change. A man. A woman. A child. The voices spoke in riddles, in layered voices, the mouth of the changing faces moving before them but the voices seemed to whisper directly in her ear. Its eyes remained closed but Hermione could feel it watching her.
Hermione froze. All breath left her as the faces molded into Harry's face, then her father’s, then her mother’s.
“Who comes here?” the voice of her mother sounded. Her face was the same as she had last seen her, from the night she had removed their memories. Tears pricked Hermione’s eyes as her gaze traced her mother’s soft cheekbones, wisp of curly hair on her temple, and crinkles lining the creases of her eyes.
Hermione looked at Draco. His face was pale as if was seeing a ghost.
“What do you see?” she asked.
“My mother,” he whispered.
Hermione took in a shaky breath, mustering her resolve as she forced herself closer. “What – what are you?”
The face morphed, this time to her father’s. He looked relaxed, carefree, jolting a memory of the same face tipped up into the sunlight when he would pause in the middle of his gardening. “We are the faces of the past and future, the faces that now and will exist in your dreams and memory.”
Draco avoided looking at the tree. “What did you do to the bodies in the lake?” His voice was cold and indifferent. Despite the occlusion in his blank eyes, his hand was tight in hers.
With eyes still closed, the face of her father smiled. It was not her father’s smile. “We did not do anything. Oh no, we don’t force anyone to stay. Those who lay at the bottom of the lake did this to themselves. Many get stuck here, forgetting time and the world outside just staring at the faces of those they long to see. They stay because they are unable to move forward without looking back.”
When you leave the cave, do not look back.
The face turned back to her mother’s. “What holds you back, Hermione Granger? The past or the future?”
“How do you — ” she stuttered.
“We may not have eyes, but we see. We hear the call of hearts, even those that no longer beat,” the voice echoed. “Many come here to search for something, seek answers to questions they don’t even understand.”
Hermione knelt before the tree. “We are looking for a snake, the Senex Ahas . We know it is somewhere in this forest.”
“What you look for is neither behind you nor before you. It lies where you stand.” The voices echoed louder, overlapping in a disjointed melody. “Between one world and the next, as you stand between the past and the future, do not look back nor forward. Look inside and it will call you. The forest only speaks to those who listen. What is your intent?”
“To help,” Hermione said firmly. “To finally be free of this war.”
And perhaps to also be completely free of her past, the choices she had to make, of everything she had to become because of the war.
The voices chuckled. “Humans are curious creatures. They are born with wings and chains. They dream of clouds, of freedom beyond the darkness they are chained to. And yet they forget the key they hold in their palms.”
Hermione’s brows pinched, unsure they were still speaking of the snake.
The face smiled eerily, morphing into Harry’s — it was his face in first year, exactly what he had looked like when she had first met him on the train. “Tell me, what is it humans ultimately seek?”
“Happiness?” Hermione responded.
“Humans seek happiness and hide from sadness. But happiness and sadness are not fixed states. Just like night and day, sun and rain, they exist together,” the voice whispered in her ears. “And when sadness comes, they do everything to feel numb, to avoid it. They suppress sadness and seek to eradicate it from their lives. But it is not possible. Knowing this, what must they seek?”
“ Peace ,” Draco answered.
“Yes,” the voice mused. “Trees thrive in sun and rain — they require both to grow. They maintain peace in sunlight and in storms, they ride the tides of the seasons and change with the cycles. The tree does not look back nor forward, it stands steadfast and rooted. It understands that sun and rain are temporary states, merely nature.”
The words echoed within her, sinking into her thoughts.
“How will this help us find the snake?” Draco suddenly asked. But Hermione could see the tree's words had also gone through him.
“We have already answered your question.” The face was different now. It was the face of a young girl that Hermione thought looked both familiar and unfamiliar.
When the tree did not say more, they stood to leave, fighting the urge to not to look back at the faces of those they had lost at least one last time as they crossed the moss pathway.
Once outside, Hermione released a breath. Draco’s face was still tight and pale.
“Who did you see?” he finally spoke
“My parents,” she whispered. “Harry’s face.”
Draco blinked at her, his occlumency walls beginning to thaw. “After my mother’s, I saw Lucius. I heard Astoria’s voice and then Raul’s but I could not look. And…” his brows furrowed. “A little girl. I do not know her.”
Hermione wondered if it was the same girl she saw.
Notes:
A/N: Oops, I know I’m late. I’ve been in such a slump, second guessing myself a lot and finding it a little difficult to keep being motivated in general. We’re so close to the end, but there’s still a few more things to get through. Thank you all so much for your love and support — it means so much to me and helps me keep going. Also again, with the birthdays and timeline, just… assume it all lines up HAHAHA
Chapter 38: Chapter XXXVII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“And I said to the star,
‘Consume me’.”
— Virginia Woolf
“Interesting!” Scorpius chirped, taking in the Cistrine Forest around him from his perch in his father’s arms. Draco’s lips curved upwards at Scorpius’ use of new vocabulary that he had adopted from a certain bushy-haired witch.
It was early-morning, the forest awakening and unfurling before them as they arrived at their campsite. Pale petals fluttered in the breeze only to twist delicately into winged floris-flickles that floated around them. One brushed Scorpius’ nose and the boy let out a laugh.
“Ms. Granger is needing assistance with the tent?” Watson asked as Hermione began rummaging through her beaded bag.
“It’s alright, I’ve got it! Thanks for the offer, Watson,” Hermione said brightly before casting a spell. The tent unrolled and set itself up under the guide of Hermione’s wand.
Draco set Scorpius down and his son immediately walked over to Watson and sat beside him. As Scorpius hummed and played with the grass, Draco began setting up the wards. He and Hermione, along with other scouting groups scattered around the forest, were tasked to find clues leading to the snake’s location. They had shared what they learned from the tree with the others but were no close to deciphering its meaning. Hermione had set up coins with protean charms to alert the other teams of signs of Death Eaters or any clues they found. Thus far, they had not encountered any Death Eaters but they continued to stay on guard.
After a week of careful deliberation, they had decided to take Scorpius on the mission. He and Hermione hadn’t been sure how long the mission would take so they both decided it was best to bring Scorpius along. Additionally, the safehouse was crowding with an influx of recruits and teams sent in support from the other ministries. The forest itself was safe enough and they had been able to take Watson with them, who was not only a part of the mission but could get Scorpius out should anything happen.
“There’s a river nearby where we can replenish supplies,” Hermione said from where she was kneeling with a map spread before her.
“Could go for a moonlit dip — I know how much you like watching.” Draco smirked as she blushed at the memory of when he had caught her ogling him during one of their first few missions together. “I’ll even let you join me.”
“Perhaps I will,” Hermione responded, staring at him directly with clear intent. The way she looked at him sent heat through his body.
“Daddy are we gonna eat?” Scorpius called.
Draco cleared his throat. “Right,” he responded, ignoring Hermione’s smug face.
***
“ — and Mini what this one?”
“ That is an asphodel tree. It’s roots are good for brewing — ”
Hermione had been going at it since they left their campsite in search of the river while Watson set up the rest of their belongings. Draco watched her little pupil walk beside her, fascinated as she pointed out the plants and their properties. Even if Scorpius likely didn’t understand what she was saying, he hung on to her every word with rapture.
As Draco continued to watch the pair, a dark shadow flew over the trees. Instinctively, Draco drew his wand and stepped in front of his son and Hermione. Just then, a large figure dropped to the ground a few feet away from them.
Draco tightened his grip, a spell ready on his lips as he locked eyes with the looming beast. Its wings expanded and beat once. Twice. The creature snapped viciously in their direction, its luminous predatory eyes trained on them.
“Get the fuck back!” Draco growled, waving his wand at the creature.
“A Hippogriff!” Hermione shouted with excitement at the sight of the beast. The hippogriff shifted, its horse body proudly upright and its beak tipped upwards as it cocked its head in curiosity.
The hippogriff ruffled its dove grey feathers, nipping in agitation at Draco’s outstretched wand.
“Draco!” Hermione hissed, pushing her way forward. “It’s a hippogriff! It’s harmless!”
Draco glared at her. “I’m not sure if you remember,” he began, taking on an imperious tone, “but in third year I was attacked — ”
“Scared, Malfoy?” she challenged.
Not waiting for his answer, Hermione calmly walked towards the hippogriff before slowly bending down into a bow. The hippogriff bowed back, its long neck dipping elegantly. When it rose, Hermione tentatively held her hand out and approached it until the hard shell of its beak met her fingertips. The hippogriff nuzzled her palm and Hermione gasped in delight as its warm breath tickled her knuckles. The hippogriff came closer, allowing her to run her hands over its body. Heat radiated from beneath its thick skin and she felt the power in its bones as its corded muscles flexed underneath her palms. Hermione scratched its neck and the beast preened, pulling closer to her touch.
“ Scorpius ,” she heard Draco call out in distress before she felt a small pair of arms wrap around her leg.
“It’s fine, I got him.” Hermione picked up the enraptured child who immediately clung on to her. The hippogriff looked back at the child in curiosity before slightly bowing its head.
“Give him a bow,” Hermione whispered and the boy complied, bending over his waist.
“Hi hippogriff,” Scorpius said as he lightly caressed the hippogriff’s forehead. He let out a giggle when the hippogriff chirped happily.
“Hermione…” Draco said in warning, caution in his eyes.
“Don’t worry, hippogriffs have very particular food preferences,” Hermione said, continuing to stroke the beast. “Aside from insects and birds, they enjoy small mammals like ferrets.”
Draco returned her innocently batting eyes with an angry glare before continuing his assessment of the creature.
“Is okay daddy! Hippogriff is nice!”
Hermione chuckled. She paused however when the hippogriff pulled back sharply and let out a screech of pain. Immediately, arms wrapped around her and Scorpius, pulling them back.
“I told you! That beast is unhinged — ” Before Hermione could retort, the hippogriff let out a pained wail. Immediately, she searched the creature for the source of its pain.
“Oh,” she said in surprise.
“What do you mean ‘ oh ’ — ”
Scorpius let out a gasp as the hippogriff bucked, pushing out a membranous sac from its body. The sac moved from within and, seconds later, was pierced by a little beak. A tiny baby hippogriff covered in blood popped its head through the hole it had made and shimmied out with a tiny cry. Still covered in placenta, its little wings unfurled as it attempted to find balance on its new legs.
“Oh a baby hippogriff, how adorable — ”
Hermione was cut off by the sound of Draco Malfoy retching into the bushes behind her.
***
Hermione assessed the small clearing at the heart of the forest. It was mid-day and it had rained the previous night. The only evidence were the puddles glistening on the ground like glass windows reflecting cloudless blue sky.
She had taken the lead with the map while Scorpius and Watson followed directly behind her and Draco trailing at the tail. They had been walking in circles, following the clues they had found in the journals and in their research but there was no sign of the snake. The accounts of the forest itself were significantly varied and Hermione felt less and less confident in the credibility of their leads. The only commonality was that many had spotted the snake near the heart of the forest, but upon their arrival, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
It had already been difficult to find the clearing — the forest seeming to have a mind of its own. They had spent most of the day navigating through the forest in circles, getting caught in loops and dead ends. Even when they decided to use brooms, the trees seemed to weave themselves together, blocking the view from above.
“Let’s take a break,” Hermione said, feeling the need to take a moment and clear her mind from the frustration that was clouding her brain.
What you look for is neither behind you nor before you. It lies where you stand.
As they settled, Hermione continued to ponder the tree's words. The more they searched, the more lost she felt. She tried to retrace her steps, connect the dots between the information they spent months going through but she found herself just as lost as she had been in the beginning.
She inhaled deeply, rubbing her temples as an ache began to form. When she opened her eyes again, they landed on Scorpius who was amusing himself by staring at his reflection in one of the puddles and making faces.
Between one world and the next, as you stand between the past and the future, do not look back nor forward. Look inside and it will call you.
Hermione stood and walked over to one of the larger puddles. There had to be a connection to the tree’s words — perhaps a way to understand the forest’s pattern of movement. She looked in front of her, then behind her, then down at the puddle.
The forest only speaks to those who listen.
Kneeling, Hermione peered at her own reflection staring back at her. The sun peaked directly above them casting a glittering sheen over the surface of the water. Silencing her mind, she called out to the strands of magic she could feel quivering in the very earth around her. A growing urge to reach out to her own reflection overcame her. And she listened.
She felt a pull towards the water and, raising her hand, she pressed her palm over the surface, just enough for her skin to graze the glassy surface. A gasp suddenly escaped her when the world flipped like a mirror as if she had switched places with her own reflection. Looking up, she noticed the forest was different — more alive like a film had been removed from her eyes. Draco, Scorpius, and Watson were gone. Trying to remain calm, she put her hand back on the surface of the water. Concentrating on her reflection, she felt the pull then suddenly she was back.
Hermione’s head snapped up, only to meet Draco’s panicked face. “Where —”
“I think I found it,” Hermione exhaled. “There seems to be a magical parallel of the forest, some inversion if you will. The differing accounts of the forest, the words of the tree — the location we’ve been looking for has been where we were the entire time.”
“Brilliant,” Draco murmured, finally catching up with her words.
After experimenting entering the parallel pocket of the forest once more with Draco, they returned to take Scorpius and Watson with them. With all their palms on the surface of the water, Scorpius included but in his father’s arms, they focused on their own reflections. Seconds later, the world flipped inversely and found themselves on the other side.
“It must be another dimension of the forest that has been hidden,” Draco murmured, taking in the sounds, much louder and vivid around him. He cast a locator charm on the map. “We’re still in the forest, in the exact same place. You’re right, it’s a parallel.”
“I’ve read about these. They’re often described as magical pockets formed to protect wildlife and species. They usually only extend within the boundaries of the area itself.”
Draco stilled. “Did you hear something?” Unconsciously, he stepped in front of her.
“Over there,” Draco said quietly, chin pointing to a small cavern that Hermione finally made out under the foliage.
Hermione waved her wand to check if there was anyone in the vicinity, but the spell revealed nothing. Peering into the darkness of the cave, Hermione thought she saw movement in the shadows. She almost dismissed it before purple eyes illuminated the darkness and stared back at her. An echoing hiss sounded as the slitted purple eyes came closer.
From the mouth of the cave, the head of a large serpent slipped out. Its white scales gleamed like finely cut pearls as its ivory horns reached upwards like sharp branches. Hermione inhaled shakily, tilting her head up as the serpent loomed over them. Its body was endless as it began to circle them.
“Watson, get Scorpius out!” Hermione commanded, snapping herself out of her stupor.
“Watson can’t disapparate,” Watson replied, stunned. He tried to disapparate once more but he and Scorpius remained in the same place.
“It must be this dimension,” Draco cursed. “We’ll hold the serpent off, you and Scorpius hide.”
Without further command, Watson magically carried Scorpius and disappeared into the foliage.
“Dive!” Draco yelled.
Automatically, Hermione threw herself in the opposite direction as the serpent's large head lunged towards where they had been standing. Hermione rolled into a crouch, balancing herself. Simultaneously she and Draco shot spell after spell but every single one bounced off the creature’s scaled skin.
The serpent hissed and went after Draco. With lethal grace, Draco dodged each attack and redirected his spells towards his surroundings to hinder the serpent. Hermione tried to find the serpent’s weaknesses, shooting spells at its coiled body but to no avail.
“ Confundus !” Hermione shouted desperately. This seemed to work momentarily, causing the serpent to shake its head and rear backwards. Draco ducked under its tail which whipped in every direction as the serpent continued to hiss in confusion.
“We need to retreat!” Hermione called across the clearing, attempting a freezing spell. “Draco!” she yelled when the serpent sent him flying into a tree with its body.
Draco grunted and clutched his ribs, only then noticing the thorns pierced into his skin from the bush he had landed on.
“ Shit ,” he cursed. He didn’t have to recognize the thorns to know they were poisonous. He could feel an immediate burning coursing from the skin that had been pierced. Suddenly, all he felt was ice as a numbing sensation spread through his insides.
“Draco!”
Draco’s eyes were blurry, barely making out Hermione's form when she somehow made it to his side. With shaky hands, she pulled him gently into her arms. Vaguely, he noticed the serpent thrashing behind her, tied up with flaming ropes.
“Draco, look at me. It’ll be alright — please,” she voiced desperately followed by spell after spell she cast in an attempt to heal his wounds. Although he tried to stay awake, his lids felt heavy.
Moments later, a shadow fell over them. Draco tried to speak but his face was paralyzed.
“ Mama !” a shrill cry pierced through the space as Scorpius broke free from the foliage, terror on his tear-streaked face. Hermione turned towards where the boy had been looking and it was only then she noticed the serpent free of the ropes, ready to strike her from behind her. She lifted her wand but it was too late.
The last thing Draco saw was large purple eyes before he was sucked into darkness.
***
Draco found himself in and out of consciousness. He was floating below the surface of still waters, wading into nothingness. He could hear voices, some proof of existence beyond his own somewhere in the distance, somewhere above the surface — too far above from the deep dark waters in which he was suspended. In brief fleeting moments, he would surface, pulled by soft warm lips on his forehead, the lingering caress of fingers on his cheek, or a small hand in his.
“Daddy?”
The voice called to him, tentative and distant. And though Draco tried to reach for it, it floated far beyond his grasp. Ruthlessly, he swam against the current that continued to drag him down, beckoning him into its murky depths. But his body betrayed him, paralyzing him into a surrender.
“... and I will eat veggies, and not be naughty…”
A warmth curled into him, pulling his mind out of slumber. Draco tried to reach for the call of the surface again, but it eluded him once more.
“Can I tell you a secret, daddy?” a small voice whispered, clearer now. “My secret name for Mini is mama… Can I call Mini mama now?” There was an edge of nervousness in the voice.
The voice quieted. He heard more voices but he couldn’t place them. Something was tipped into his mouth, a cool bitter liquid. Ice frosted his veins and he found himself drowning as if he was sinking into the bottom of a lake. He reached for the light above the surface but he fell further into the dark recesses of his own memory, its tendrils latching on to him and dragging him down.
It had been a week since they escaped the manor, since he had seen his mother engulfed by flames while he and Scorpius plunged into the night sky. Now, everything before him was blinding white. Powdered snow dusted the world around him as he looked out at the sharp relief of mountains spread out before him against the piercing blue sky.
They were hiding in an unplotted cabin in the French alps he had secretly prepared for months. He had meals and supplies preserved to last them long enough for him to track down the True Order. He was close. He barely slept, paranoid and on guard for any sign of the Dark Lord but so far they had not been detected.
The air was crisp and cool as Draco stepped outside into the wintery sunlight. The tips of the mountains receded into the distance, no sign of civilization beyond them. Draco savored the profound silence around him, nothing but the distant sound of wind brushing against the frost-covered pine trees.
The idea of staying hidden and escaping the reaches of the war visited him once more, tempting him. The choice was there. But he could not do it. He and Scorpius would be on the run, taking away every chance he had of giving his son a better life. And more strongly, one day when Scorpius was old enough to understand who his father was, Draco hoped to earn his forgiveness by undoing what he had built in order to create a better world for him. He would push his weight up the mountain and repent no matter how long it took.
The wards held strong as Draco continued his check. They hummed under his touch and he strengthened them, adding extra layers of enchantments to keep their location protected and hidden.
There were moments when Draco thought he felt the phantom touch of the Dark Mark on his arm. But the burning sensation of his summoning never came. The flesh had healed into a sickly gray color, the skin mangled but he preferred it to the sight of the mark that had branded him. On nights when memories plagued his nightmares, the feel of the rough flesh under his fingers rooted him, reminded him that it was over. He escaped.
Once finished with the wards, Draco returned to their cabin. He turned towards the living room but paused at the sight of Scorpius before the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket. He had not realized his son was awake. Quietly, Draco watched from the corner, the flames shivering as a warm glow encased his small form. Scorpius’ stuffed dragon, Mr. Dragon, sat by his son’s side while one of his books was splayed out on the floor.
“Baby Dragon is flying with his mama and daddy…” Draco overheard him saying to Mr Dragon as he flipped through his favorite book. “Scow-pius is baby dragon, daddy is Daddy Dragon.”
The edge of Draco’s lips lifted at the boy’s conversation with his toy. However, it fell when Scorpius’ face took on a sad longing look as he caressed the page he had flipped to.
“But Scow-pius has no mama.”
Draco’s chest tightened, the words bringing life to the voices that plagued his mind.
He knew nothing about raising a child.
He was not enough.
“Hi daddy.” Scorpius’ gentle voice broke him out of his thoughts. Scorpius tilted his head, brows furrowing in concern before his arms lifted and reached out for him.
Draco exhaled shakily and picked him up. Once settled on the armchair, Scorpius lay his head on his chest.
“Daddy?” Scorpius spoke a moment later.
“Yes?”
“Do I – do I have a mama?” Scorpius lifted his head, the firelight glinting in his wide eyes. Draco saw hints of nervousness and longing swimming in its depths. Along with something else. Hope.
Draco opened his mouth and closed it, unsure what to say. “Astoria is your mother,” he said gently, trying not to occlude at uttering her name.
“Yes, ‘Storia is mother… but what about mama?”
Draco didn’t understand, he did not know what to say. Scorpius’ eyes went distant, the sadness in them returning.
“It’s just us,” Draco whispered, his face shuttering. “It’s just me.”
Scorpius was silent and Draco forced himself to look at his son. His son smiled softly. “Is ‘kay, daddy,” he replied, entwining his arms around his neck.
Draco didn't know how to be a father other than the example his own father had set. But he would be damned if he raised his son to grow into any semblance of the man he had become.
The traditional ways in which purebloods reared their children by withholding affection, controlling the choices, and molding them into something they were not — he did not want this for his son. He had felt first-hand the damages it had done. For all their justifications that it was to hone them in preparation for the real world — to make them strong — Draco knew that in truth, it ultimately left them weak. Suddenly, Draco longed for his mother, missing the steadfastness she brought with her. She would know what to do.
“You sad daddy?” Scorpius cupped his cheeks. Draco blinked, exhaling.
“I just miss your Nana Cissa.”
“Nana said she is just staying with Gran-pa Loo-shus and Mother ‘Storia.” Draco looked in surprise. Scorpius cocked his head. “But Nana Cissa is also here,” Scorpius replied, placing a small hand over his heart then over Draco’s, “and here. Nana Cissa told me.”
Draco’s eyes fluttered shut. Even with his mother gone, he felt her in that moment. The voices in his head did not quiet. But, he found a momentary strength in him he did not know existed in the soft press of Scorpius’ forehead against his and the small hand over his heart.
***
Draco rasped, blinking against the bright light. Suddenly, there were warm hands cupping his face, a forehead pressing against his.
“Hermione…?” he murmured, inhaling her scent — parchment, ember, and a hint of something floral.
“Daddy!” Draco felt a small weight against his stomach.
The white noise simmered and the light diminished. Draco blinked again, his body relaxing at the sight of Hermione and Scorpius’ worried faces in front of him.
“I’m alright,” he whispered, still sore but no longer feeling the cold numbness in his veins. “Where are we?” he said, taking in his surroundings. He lay on a soft patch of flowers, a canopy of branches delicately entwined above him.
“Oh, lovely, lovely, he’s awake is he?” a dainty voice called from somewhere.
“Who — ”
“Draco, this is Senia,” Hermione answered with a smile. Moving slightly, Draco came face to face with a tiny old woman who gave him a toothy grin, some of her teeth missing.
Draco frowned in puzzlement. “The snake — ”
“Oh dearie, that was my other form,” Senia said kindly, one purple eye twinkling. The other was the color of earth. “And my apologies for attacking. I thought you two were a part of those infiltrators infecting the forest. But when I saw the child and this young woman protecting you,” the old woman’s eyes softened, “I knew you couldn’t be one of those, as you call them, Death Eaters .”
“After you passed out, she transformed back into a human and helped you,” Hermione supplied.
“Thank you,” Draco said, nodding at the old woman in gratitude.
“She took us into the cave which leads to her private sanctuary — we should be safe here. Watson is out inspecting the area.”
Draco absorbed the information while he, with Hermione’s help, sat up.
“Where does it hurt?” Hermione asked when he grimaced and clutched his side.
“I’m alright, just a little stinging,” Draco assured her, settling more comfortably against her body. Scorpius put his head on his lap.
“Here, drink this.” The old woman smiled gently, offering him a wooden cup of clear liquid and crushed purple petals. Draco thanked her, taking a sip and sighing as the pain eased. The effects were more rapid and poignant than a pain relief potion and he noted to ask her for the recipe.
“So you’re the little girl in the story with half a soul,” Hermione prompted once they all settled.
“I am, I am,” Senia said, a distant look overtaking her expression. Her long braided white hair slithered around her with a mind of its own. Unafraid, Scorpius distracted himself trying to catch it, laughing when it brushed his nose. “I’m guessing that Soros told you of his legend?” she chuckled.
“He did,” Draco answered.
“Well, he did get some things right,” Senia mused. “My mother died in labor and my father blamed me for it. When I was three he used me in a blood ritual, attempting to bring her back to life. But Death tricked him by animating my mother’s corpse without truly bringing her back. In exchange, Death took half my soul. Ultimately, they had to burn my mother’s body while I lived half-alive, unable to access my own power, my magical core maimed.
When I was five, the villagers caught a horned serpent. They wanted to kill it for its properties but I felt compelled to save it. I was helping it escape when my father caught me. Even after everything he had done, he saw me as an abomination, a killer — still blaming me for my mother’s death. He lifted a cursed stone dagger and struck, but in its last act, the serpent took the blow. I held its limp body in my arms and then something happened. Its essence assimilated into me, filling the other part of my soul. One of my eyes changed color then and everyone, including my father, was terrified. They threw me out of the village and I was left in the woods.”
The old woman bowed her head, taking a deep breath. Hermione took her hand and she squeezed it back.
“It was not long after I was fending for myself that I realized I could turn into the serpent. I had been hearing voices in my head, you see. I tried to fight it until I surrendered.”
“So you gained the ability to shapeshift?” Draco asked.
“Not quite,” Senia corrected kindly. “It is more of another form. The Senex Ahas and I are one.”
“And the plague…” Hermione began.
“Indeed, our venom stabilizes magical bonding,” she answered. “The plague that struck the village destabilized the children’s magical cores like a virus eating away at their magic. Despite what the villagers had done, I could not simply stand by. I did not forget the kindness of the women who left me food and clothing at the edge of the forest. I knew my venom couldn't cure them but I could at least stabilize their magical cores so they could survive with the disease. And for years after, wizards and witches have searched for me in order to create abominations and tamper with nature itself purely for their own greed.”
“The Dark Lord split his soul into pieces,” Draco explained. “And in his final act he acquired a vessel that once contained a shard of his soul. But now his vessel is weakening and we have reason to believe he is trying to acquire a new one. Although he was successful with his first host, he is currently struggling with imbibing his soul into his new vessels. He has been targeting children because of their malleable magical cores but he is still missing something to successfully bind himself to them. That’s what the Dark Lord is after,” Draco said, eyes steely and determined. “Hermione and I have reason to believe your venom is what he needs as a missing ingredient.”
Hermione nodded in agreement. “According to Borris Khalgar’s The Theory of Magical Bonding , we believe your venom would work as a binding agent to aid in the process of negative decomposition in which two entities, pure and impure, can be bonded so these entities can co-exist.”
“Well I am not gonna let him have it,” Senia said with a hearty laugh. “I’m a lot stronger than I look — I did best the both of you didn’t I,” she winked.
Hermione huffed a laugh.
“We will talk more about this soon but now you must rest. We are in a special enchanted area warding off the other creatures. The pixies will be delighted by your visit and the aura surrounding you both,” the old woman said with a knowing look.
Draco’s lips twitched at Hermione’s flush.
“Oh and this little one too,” she said, ruffling Scorpius’ head. “After then we can discuss more about this Dark Lord, yes?”
It was almost twilight when Draco peeked outside, the sky taking on a deep pink and lilac. The shadows grew around them, enclosing the clearing. Senia’s home was made out of vines and roots that seemed to grow out on their own accord. Quietly, he accepted another drink to ease his muscles and dozed off to Scorpius chatter.
***
“Aren’t you fully recovered?” Hermione said teasingly from under his arm when they stepped out into the clearing.
Draco scowled. “Well maybe I just like having you by my side,” he muttered bitterly, resolutely ignoring her chuckle and playful smirk.
They continued their walk until they settled on a fallen tree. Hermione tilted her face upwards, brown eyes tracing a flock of cerulean-colored hummingbirds. Although the forest around them thrummed in silent splendor, Draco could not tear his gaze away from her. On impulse, his eyes traced the profile of her face down to the line of her parted lips he had also memorized by touch and taste. His eyes landed on her soft cheekbones and the scar she wore proudly on her cheek. In the furrow of her brow, he could tell she was lost to her thoughts. Her mind was a world in itself that he could spend eternity learning and discovering. And when she looked at him, there was a wildness in her eyes that could not be tamed, that spoke of the fire that he had found himself drawn to again and again. It had consumed him and he had let it. But there was also a spark of life in them that he did not doubt was reflected in his. For once he was not afraid to live. Perhaps it was called bravery, maybe even recklessness. But he meant every word when he had tried to confess what he felt when he had not yet found the words to understand his own heart.
For where thou art, there is the world itself.
Hermione shifted, catching his attention. His brows furrowed in concern but he waited for her to speak. “I’m not sure if you heard but when you were hurt and Senia was about to attack me, Scorpius called me mama.”
Draco froze. “I can talk to him, he — ”
“I’ll admit that I resisted it at first and it scared me,” her voice shook and she turned to him fully. “It scared me how much I was already attached to him, so much so that I felt like — feel like — he’s mine . My relationship with Scorpius is one of the realest things I’ve ever experienced. I will never replace Astoria, but I feel like his… his mama. I want to be his mama.”
Her eyes churned with a storm of emotions.
“I believe you have already been his mama for a long time now,” he replied softly. “Scorpius understands more than even perhaps we do. He has been calling you mama in secret,” he admitted. “He has always seen Astoria as his mother, but not mama. I never understood the difference, but I do now.”
A tear escaped down Hermione’s cheek and Draco brushed it away with his thumb. Scorpius had taught her that the heart was bigger than she thought it was. It had enough space for more people — it grew if you allowed it to. A child’s heart was unguarded and open, not hindered by the fear of getting hurt. They freely gave their love and made more space in their hearts for the people that entered their lives. While she had thought she had been intruding in their lives and trying to fill the space Astoria had left behind, Scorpius had simply opened his heart and grew it to create his own space for her.
“Mini, look!” Scorpius exclaimed, running over to them. Following his pointed finger, they turned their gaze towards a small brook where, just beyond it, a colony of fairies flew, their translucent iridescent wings shimmering in the sunlight.
Taking notice of their attention, the fairies grew curious and flew over to them, one landing on Scorpius’ head causing him to giggle. Draco remained still as the fairies swarmed around them.
“Scorpius, love,” Hermione said a moment later, pulling the boy’s attention away. Scorpius turned his body to her, twisting from his seat on her lap. “Remember that name you called me in the forest?”
Scorpius’ eyes widened and he nodded nervously. A hint of fear flashed across his face
Hermione glanced at Draco and he took her hand, giving her an encouraging squeeze. “I just wanted to let you know that you can call me mama — not secretly anymore. I’m sorry it took a while but I want to be your mama. I – I am your mama.” Her voice was brimming with emotion that threatened to spillover.
Scorpius blinked, pure shock on his face. He looked so disbelieving and hopeful that Hermione pulled him closer.
“I can call Mini, mama? Mini is my mama?” He looked at Draco in confirmation.
Draco exhaled shakily. “Yes.”
Scorpius’ lip wobbled and his face contorted before he lunged himself at her. She didn’t miss the whispered mama into her neck as warm tears slid down his cheeks. She held him closer, her heart aching. She was his and he was hers. He would always be her baby.
***
“I told you they would be drawn to you young lovers and the boy,” the old woman commented out of nowhere, walking towards them with a gnarled old walking stick. Watson walked beside her.
“They’re lovely,” Hermione smiled.
One fairy with short blue hair flew in front of Hermione's face. The fairy cocked her head before flying away then returning with a white narcissus flower, tentatively putting it in her hair. Draco chuckled under his breath as a group of fairy children immediately swarmed Hermione and hid themselves in her bushy mane.
“It’s coming,” Senia’s solemn voice came from Draco’s side. Draco and Hermione glanced at her, taking their eyes off of Scorpius, who had pulled Watson towards the brook to play with the fairies.
“The final battle approaches, but you both know that,” she said, her words laced with an undercurrent of foreboding. “But,” she began, her face softening as she turned to them, “how lucky you two are to have found each other in this lifetime.”
Two doves fluttered above them, soaring and dipping around each other. Senia’s words rippled between them, reminding them of everything that was behind them and everything that lay before them. But where they stood now — they held onto it.
Hermione’s eyes lifted to Draco’s only to find him already watching her. Serenity bloomed in her chest, settling the turbulent waves inside of her and revealing a kind of clarity that surprised her. And when her heart spoke, she listened.
Notes:
A/N: Omg I was so sure this update would be delayed because yet again I’m struggling to power through the edits!! The week goes by so fast and there’s a lot of key things coming up. Thank you all for being on this journey with me and giving this story a chance. Love you all!
Chapter 39: Chapter XXXVIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard
your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised you
into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel
hiding his halo behind his back
and nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship
and, oh, you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels
into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color
of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips
like they were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers
and he offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him
how to hold your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.”
— Ashe Vernon
The first rays of light bloomed on the horizon, bleeding into a vermillion and warm gold. Leveling his broom, Draco flew above the treetops. The exhilarating rush of flight coursed through him and urged him to fly faster. Behind him, night receded as he chased the sun rising in the east. His heart hammered in his chest. He had barely slept, afraid that when he woke it would all have been a dream.
“What’s on your mind?”
Hermione blinked at him before turning her gaze back to the creek that flowed like liquid moonlight. They had just put Scorpius down for the night and decided to take a moment to sit by the stream. At her quiet demeanor and pensive face, Draco could tell something was on her mind — something she had been turning over since Senia’s comments earlier that day.
“The final battle. Senia’s words.” She finally turned towards him fully, worriedly chewing on her bottom lip. “Us.”
Draco tilted his head in concern, trying to untangle her thoughts but instead found himself with more questions than answers. He searched for any doubt or regret in her expression and relaxed when he found none. She looked hesitant but he silently encouraged her to keep speaking
“The final battle is coming and I know that we can't be sure of what happens then or even tomorrow. But one thing I’m sure about is you and — and our family,” she shifted nervously, her hands wringing. He placed a hand over hers and she looked up at him wide-eyed, a question burning in them.
He froze, mouth parting in surprise.
Draco flew faster, the wind blowing through his hair as the world awakened before his very eyes. In that moment between night and day, dreams and wakefulness, he felt infinite. His mind stumbled through the words she had spoken, the question she had asked him as if she did not already know the answer.
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.
The sun fully emerged over the horizon, bringing with it the steady warmth and soft glow of a new day. Racing towards the infinite distance, he let go of the broom and spread his arms wide like wings. His eyes fluttered shut, the kiss of sunlight on his face and wind licking his fingertips. It was like this with her — this feeling of freedom along with the rush and exhilaration of life itself igniting his very being. But it was also peace — an acceptance of the world and himself, serenity despite all he could not control. Peace lifted the weight he carried, freeing him from the chains that had held him down for so long. Nothing had come close, would come close.
The promise of eternity twinkled on the horizon and he chased after it.
***
Hermione inhaled a shaky breath and shut her eyes, still shaded by a canopy of leaves. A soft melody spilled through the air, a song sang by a flock of nightingales. The light melody drifted over the branches along with the distant hum of the forest around her. Twilight was upon them, the last rays of sunset seeping in in all its golden glory. She was nervous — there had been no planning at all. It had been spontaneous as if something possessed her in that moment she voiced what she wanted. But she couldn’t deny how right it felt.
“Mama!” a voice called out impatiently through the foliage followed by a familiar hushed reprimand.
Hermione grinned to herself, feeling a calm seep over her as the voices of those she loved called to her.
Steeling herself, she stepped into the clearing.
The world slowed as hundreds of forest fairies lit up like fallen stars. Narcissus petals were strewn in a path leading towards a willow tree whose branches spilled over and swayed gently in the breeze. And under the willow tree, raised on a boulder was Senia. Scorpius was on the side of the aisle bounding excitedly in the flower crown he made along with Watson who scowled and poked at the matching flower crown on his head.
At the end of the path, watching her, was Draco. He stood there in a simple white button down, looking at her with a quiet reverence that took her breath away. Brown eyes locked onto silver and she walked towards him, following the pull that beckoned to her. Her eyes remained on his even as her hands tightened around the bouquet of wildflowers Scorpius had picked, the dress she had transfigured trailing across the forest floor.
Draco swallowed as she came closer. She grinned widely at him and edges of his lips lifted in a soft smile.
Hello , she mouthed.
Hi , he replied, eyes glinting like pools of starlight.
A few steps later, Hermione reached the end of the aisle. She passed her bouquet to Watson and gave Scorpius a kiss on the head before Draco took her hands in his.
“We are gathered here today,” Senia began, “to witness an old kind of magic, one of the first kinds of magical bonding. It is the purest bond that can be formed between two souls: Soul Bonding … ”
Soul Bonding. She had not known much about it, but it had consumed her thoughts and finally spilled from her lips only the night before, half in question and half in hope. Marriage Bonding was more common in the wizarding community — it was more practical in nature, almost contractual. And then there was Soul Bonding, more rare in occurrence as it involved bonding two willing souls and bringing their magic together. In Marriage Bonding, one committed themselves to each other until death. To soul bond was to commit to each other even beyond death.
“… two souls complete and whole on their own choosing to be together, not out of necessity, not out of greed, not out of glory but out of choice, out of love ,” Senia said with conviction. The sun slipped further, the sky dimming as the stars blinked from their sleepy slumber. “Here, before the sun, the stars, and moon, when the light dies and the darkness comes, do you, Draco Malfoy, promise yourself to Hermione Granger until death and beyond in any other life?”
“I do,” Draco replied, eyes burning with conviction. Devotion.
“Do you, Hermione Granger, promise yourself to Draco Malfoy until death and beyond in any other life?”
“I do,” Hermione repeated with equal conviction. His hands tightened around her.
“The rings?” the old woman asked.
Hermione jolted, panicking at having forgotten one of the crucial elements to complete the ceremony. Draco brushed his thumb over her knuckles before letting go of them and pulling two objects from his pocket. Hermione gasped. On his palm were two rings she recognized: the Malfoy family ring and his mother’s ring.
Hermione swallowed at the sight of the rings, realizing they had been in the pouch Narcissa had given Draco before they escaped the manor. Draco’s words about the pureblood ring customs came back to her.
It was pureblood custom for the mother to pass on her engagement ring to the heir and take on a new ring. But this only happened if she approved of the witch and the union.
“When my mother gave me this, she wanted me to make a choice for myself. For my own happiness,” his hands in hers were the only things keeping her steady. “And I am.”
Hermione blinked back tears at the significance of the ring and the tradition. It also represented the choice he was making for himself. Her . She was his choice.
Senia waved her hand, lifting the rings. Narcissa’s ring glowed, the alexandrite stone glinting a deep red then emerald. It was symbolic of them, of what they had been through — it symbolized the different truths revealed by a different perspective, of looking at things differently and finding more beneath the surface without the distortion of assumptions and preconceived notions.
The old woman muttered an enchantment under her breath like an old song that sounded both familiar and foreign. Golden strands of light appeared and wrapped around the rings.
“To seal the bond, say your vows and slip the ring into each other's fingers,” she instructed.
The rings hovered between them as the string of golden light expanded and surrounded their forms.
Draco took his mother’s ring in one hand and her hand in the other.
“To you, and only you, Hermione Granger, I give myself freely. I vow to be by your side, in light and in darkness. I vow to forsake all others, to be the best that I can for you and for our son. Forever you will have my love, forever will my soul be entwined in yours, forever will it burn by your side. And when we return to dust, my ashes will find yours and my soul will always seek yours. It will never rest until it has found yours again, in this life and the next.”
Tears pricked Hermione’s eyes as she felt the weight of the ring slip around her finger, resizing to fit her perfectly. She felt his words in her very soul, the bond between them humming as the glow of magic brightened around them.
“To you, and only you, Draco Malfoy, I give myself freely. I vow to be by your side, in light and in darkness. I vow to forsake all others, to be the best that I can for you and for our son. Forever you will have my love, forever will my soul be entwined in yours, forever will it burn by your side. And when we return to dust, my ashes will find yours and my soul will always seek yours. It will never rest until it has found yours again, in this life and the next.”
Hermione slipped the ring on Draco’s finger and the dancing golden light pulsed around them. She looked up at him only to find a soft kind of happiness on his face. It was dusk now, the fairies twinkling brightly against the shadowy darkness while the air hummed around them as the bond strengthened.
“Now, to seal the bond,” Senia prompted.
Together, Draco and Hermione recited the ritual verse to seal the soul bonding ceremony.
“ I have called your name out into the abyss,
I have seen into every cracked crevice of your soul,
And even in the darkness of your sins, I say:
I am not afraid.
When you walk through running rivers, I shall be with you
And when they try to drown you, I will be your breath.
And when you walk through fire, I shall follow you
For only those who are afraid shall burn.
And when Death takes me into his arms, for you I will wait.
For in this life and in the next,
Our souls will be entwined forever.”
The light flared before contracting and seeping into them, illuminating them in golden glow. Even when it disappeared, Hermione could still feel the light in her very core. Their magic entwined together in harmony, connected by the new bond between their souls. His eyes burned brightly, mirroring hers.
“You may kiss!” Senia exclaimed.
Hermione tilted her face upwards and Draco’s lips met her halfway. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss with a soft pressure she returned. It was slow and the world receded as their lips moved against each other. She sighed against his mouth and he smiled. Eyes still shut, their lips lingered, grazing against each other, unwilling to part. The tingle of the bond was still charged in their souls, only heightening the current running through them where they touched.
“Yay!” Hermione and Draco broke away as the little boy launched himself at them.
They laughed, sinking to their knees and pulled him into their arms.
Family. They were family.
***
Under a full moon, Draco and Hermione danced under the willow tree. Glowing fairies spun around them to an earthly melody that lilted through the air along with Scorpius’ laughter from where he played with Senia in her serpent form.
The hand on her waist slipped to her lower back eliciting a shiver from her. With a flush on her cheeks, she watched him from underneath heavy lashes. He dipped his head until their cheeks grazed each other, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear causing her to press her body more firmly against his.
“How do you feel?” she whispered. She laughed when he twirled her in his arms.
“Happy,” he breathed, “happy in a way that does not feel possible.”
Draco pulled her closer and Hermione smoothly wrapped her arms around his neck. He brushed his nose against hers.
“You make me happy too, Draco,” Draco’s heart stuttered at her words, “more than you know.”
“Can I asks you to dance wid me, Mama?” a little voice said along with a tug at her dress.
“Of course! Save me from your father’s horrible dancing!”
Scorpius giggled. Draco tried to keep the scowl on his face but was unable to at the sight of them smiling and dancing together. Hermione spun Scorpius in her arms and both heads tipped backwards in carefree laughter.
His wife . Fuck .
When they finished, Draco hid a grin behind his hand as the pair tried to make their way to him on wobbly feet due to excessive spinning. Drunk on their own laughter, Hermione and Scorpius giggled hand in hand, almost toppling over each other until Draco decided to finally step in.
“Now, now, come along little boy,” the old woman said cheerfully when she turned back into her human form. Watson followed behind her. “Let's give your daddy and mama some time alone.”
Senia winked at the couple and smirked. Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably but Hermione just laughed and set Scorpius down.
“Goodnight, daddy, mama Mini,” Scorpius said obediently, taking Watson’s hand.
“Congratulations,” Watson mumbled, and, to Draco’s surprise, bent over his waist in a bow.
Draco and Hermione thanked him and Hermione shocked Watson by kneeling and pulling him into a hug. His arms were limp and his face shifted in a puzzled look but he remained silent.
Once they disappeared, Draco scooped Hermione up in his arms and started walking through the foliage.
“Draco!”
“Is this not how muggles do it?” he paused, hesitant.
Hermione’s chest warmed. “Yes it is — I was just surprised, but this is perfect,” she said, kissing his jaw.
Finally they reached the secluded clearing Senia had prepared for them. At the center, illuminated by moonlight, was a bed of flowers, a hint of magic humming around it. Draco looked around skeptically.
“It's enchanted,” Hermione said, reading his expression. She rolled her eyes fondly. “She also said she added wards herself to make sure we have… privacy .”
A jolt passed through her at the darkening in his eyes — a promise burning within its depths. The atmosphere changed then, taking on a tension they knew so well.
Silently, Draco carried her to the center before carefully placing her on her feet. Turning to him, she waited as his eyes trailed over her body.
He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers over her cheek, down her neck, then to her collar bone leaving fire in his wake. He was always like this — patient, taking his time to touch her, savoring it.
With quick fingers, he unraveled the ties of her dress. Her sleeves fell delicately off her shoulders to her waist, exposing her breasts to him. Her nipples hardened in the night air and she couldn’t stop the soft gasp that left her lips. His eyes snapped to hers at the sound, his fingers curling against her skin as his control wavered — but only for a moment. Eyes still locked on hers, watching her every reaction, he took his time grazing his knuckles against the sides of her breasts. She inhaled sharply, shivering when his thumb brushed her nipples.
“Draco,” she whimpered, fidgeting. She needed more .
He chuckled deeply at her frown. “So impatient, my love.”
Still, he took his time, heavy anticipation in his hooded eyes. Moonlight illuminated his sharp cheekbones and the cut of his jaw as if he was carved from moonlight itself. He trailed his gaze over her body, finally pulling the string at her waist causing her dress to flutter to the floor, exposing her fully to him.
Hermione flushed at the naked desire in his eyes that was softened by a raw tenderness in them. Stepping closer, his hand slid across her abdomen to the swell of her hip. She offered her lips to him, aching for his touch. Giving into the plea in her eyes, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was soft, barely there but it sent shockwaves through her body.
“ More ,” she said breathlessly when he pulled back slightly.
He smiled before taking her lips once more but deeply this time. His mouth was hot and heavy on hers as his tongue slipped into her mouth.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, tracing his fingers against her swollen lips.
Hermione stepped back and lay on the soft patch of flowers. Looking at her, Draco memorized the way her curls spread across the forest floor and how moonlight dripped over her soft body.
“Draco,” she beckoned to him, a plea in her voice. That was his undoing.
Immediately, he was on her, lips ravenous as they crashed into hers. Hermione returned his kiss with equal fervor, not breaking contact when she sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt with stumbling fingers. Draco’s head fell on her shoulder, hot breath fanning her throat as one her palms ran across his bare torso. He pressed into her touch, muscles taut as she explored his body.
“More,” he rasped before sucking her neck. Hermione arched into him and her nipples brushed against his chest, eliciting a deep groan from him.
Draco pulled back and quickly pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He surged forward to resume where they left off but she stopped him.
“I want to try something,” she said nervously, “if that’s alright.”
“Anything,” he replied.
Draco’s brows furrowed when she urged him to stand but did so without pause. Slowly, Hermione shifted to her knees and watched him from underneath her lashes. His fists were clenched, restraint evident in the rigidness of his body. A thrill shot through her in anticipation of breaking that control, of seeing himself unravel before her.
“Hermione what — ” Draco hissed when her hand on his thigh brushed over his evident arousal. Before he could process what was happening, she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his fully erect cock.
He tried to speak but her mouth was already around him, sucking on his swollen head while she stared up at him with wide brown eyes.
“ Fuck. ” Unable to stop himself, his hands wove into her hair, gripping it tightly. When she moaned around his cock, he couldn't help but thrust further into her warm mouth. Upon realizing what he had done, Draco looked at her in panic but she merely nodded. Her eyes twinkled as she fed herself more of his cock until he touched the back of her throat.
Draco’s fingers dug into her hair as he began to thrust in and out of her mouth, mesmerized at the sight of her lips stretched taut around his swollen cock. Draco groaned when she wrapped two hands around his base, stroking what she couldn't take.
“Hermione,” he groaned, trying to still himself but found himself failing when she started bobbing her head, “I — I’m close. I want to come inside you,” Draco rasped.
With a pop, she released him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Her lips glistened in the moonlight and he noticed her thighs rubbing together.
“Draco?”
“Yes, love,” he replied.
“I want you now.”
Draco stilled when Hermione got on her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder at him and arched her spine further, baring her cunt to him. Without leaving her gaze, Draco stripped off the last of his clothing and knelt behind her. His fingers roamed the swell of her ass reverently before dipping down to press a single finger into her slit.
“You wet,” he snarled then pushed a finger inside of her. Hermione moaned, screwing her eyes shut as she pushed against his finger to take it deeper. She gasped when he added another finger and began pumping them inside of her.
“Draco,” she whined and she heard him curse before the blunt head of his cock ran through her slick folds. Without warning he entered her, stretching her fully. Her back arched as her hands fisted the grass underneath her.
“That’s it, love,” he groaned, watching the sight of his cock enter her. Her cunt clenched around him as she adjusted to his size until he was fully seated. Every time they joined, the sight of her, the feel of her never ceased to leave him breathless.
“Look at me, Hermione, please,” he rasped as he dug his fingers into her hips roughly then thrust into her cunt hard enough to jolt her.
Hermione groaned, turning her head and forcing herself to look at him over her shoulder.
His pace increased when their eyes met. A high flush colored his cheekbones as he continued impaling her from behind. His mouth was parted, brows pinched, thrusting into her almost desperately.
Keeping eye contact, Hermione lowered her chest until her cheek scraped against the grass. Her flesh was feverish and she welcomed the caress of the cool nighttime breeze down her spine. The sounds of their flesh slapping together echoed through the space, the sound almost profane but only spurring them further.
Draco hissed through clenched teeth when she began meeting his thrusts. “Faster?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Harder?”
“ Yes ,” she begged.
Giving in to her demands, he fucked her faster, harder , eliciting a gasp from her with each sharp thrust. As if he could deny her, as if he would not give her what she wanted.
“Draco!” she screamed as she clenched around him, feeling her body coil tightly.
Reading her, he slipped his hands around her waist and tightened his hold. He took over and pulled her body to him, stretching her, filling completely.
It was pure ecstasy as she chased her own pleasure. The sight of him losing control only heightened the sensations overwhelming her. Jaw clenched, the muscles in his arms were tense. His hair was so pale it looked like starlight against the background of the night sky. He looked like a creature of night, beautiful and unearthly — like an angel unhinged as fucked her like he needed her, fucked her like only she could give him what he had searched for for so long. His brutal pace unrelenting, he brought her to the edge, the tightening coil in her unraveling as she came.
In the next second, his thrusts became erratic and with one hard thrust, he stilled and came inside of her. His eyes were dark, still locked on hers as euphoria washed over his face. His bruising grip kept her in place as he continued filling her with his come.
Their breathing was ragged, both gasping when he pulled out of her. Gingerly, Hermione rolled on to her back. Draco followed her and laid his head on her chest.
“I love you,” she whispered breathily and his eyes fluttered shut, pulling her tighter against him.
“I want to try something,” he said after a moment, repeating her words. Hermione watched him curiously as he pulled back and settled between her legs, forearms framing her face.
She startled, realizing what he was doing when she felt him hard again and prodding her entrance. “Draco we don’t have to — ”
“I want to do it this way,” he swallowed. Hermione blinked in surprise. The times they had been intimate together, they explored each other’s bodies and varying positions. But when he would sometimes attempt taking her from on top, he would go pale, his face shutting down.
“Alright,” she exhaled. “Just let me know if we need to stop.”
He nodded then he thrust into her, slower this time. Her eyes never left his, grounding him as he fought through the conflict inside of him. Finally, his silver eyes cleared and he managed to push himself inside of her completely. His body relaxed and she held him close, a wayward tear leaving her eye.
“I love you,” he whispered softly.
“I love you, too.”
He began to increase his pace and her mouth parted in a breathless moan. His head dipped, capturing her lips in his and kissed her slowly — languidly — trying to show her how much he loved her.
“... love you, Hermione,” he babbled, his warm breath fanning her cheek. She bared her neck to him and he sucked on it, whispering her name like a confession against her skin. “... so fucking much… Hermione … Hermione … ”
Hermione no longer knew where he began and she ended. All she could feel was him , the bond flaring to life between them. His skin was burning, the muscles of his back flexing underneath her palms. Grass scraped her back with every hard thrust and jerk of his hips but she relished it. She dug her nails into his flesh when she felt herself coming close once more.
His thrusts became more uncontrolled and she met them with a burning desperation. In his ear, she murmured how good he made her feel and how much she loved him, which only spurred him on.
“Say it,” he gritted out, eyes wild as he held her face between his hands. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Draco,” she exhaled, her orgasm crashing over her the moment the words were out.
Draco thrust into her hard, following her climax. His eyes never faltered, holding on to her like a lifeline, an anchor. A tear slid down her cheek and he dipped his head, kissing her softly as if she might break.
They stayed joined for a moment longer, catching their breath until they extracted themselves from each other. And perhaps it was the afterglow of the climax, but the stars glittered more brilliantly and the darkness of night called to them with a soft invitation.
A drowsiness overcame her, her limbs languid and laced with a sweet ache. Draco wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against his body. She shut her eyes, curling into his warm chest.
His lips grazed her temple as his arms tightened around her. “I love you,” he whispered as she fell further into the darkness. “I love you so much.”
She tried to reply but sleep beckoned to her too strongly for her to resist. Even as the world fell away, his words remained in every beat of her heart where their souls were now forever entwined.
Notes:
A/N: Ahhhh! *Does Scorp’s happy dance* I hope you guys liked this!! Curious if any of you guessed what was in the pouch! Some good things before we descend into chaos!! I’m hoping to keep being consistent with these last few updates but don’t be surprised with any possible delays given that I need to be careful with these last few chapters since it involves putting the clues together, some twists, and just tying everything together. It definitely wont be the typical all out battle, as there will be some things our characters will have to face and decisions they will have to make that will come at a cost. They will need to use their minds and be brave for what they will have to do to try and end this once and for all *dun dun dun*
I hope you also liked the poem in the beginning — one of my favorites of all times and biggest inspirations with how words can be used to really create these heightened – yet grounded — sexual emotional scenes. Just with all things, I really wanted to slow down these moments of intimacy by enlarging the smaller details and diminishing the larger ones. Sometimes I feel like intimate scenes can become too in the character’s head and an onslaught of big emotions and metaphors. Hence, I like to ground it through highlighting small physical descriptions that really bring it to life and really situate the reader in the moment.
This fic has definitely been an exercise and is one of the biggest projects I've ever done — I've always stuck to poetry, short stories, and small/medium length pieces. I definitely learned a lot and have a long way to go. Thank you all for being on this journey and giving my story a chance!
Chapter 40: Chapter XXXIX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“God, this is a sinful angel returning to you again.”
— Anton Chekhov
“Morning!”
Draco startled, almost dropping his wooden mug as Senia hobbled out of the vine and branch structure of her home. He tore his eyes away from where Hermione and Scorpius were playing by the creek and returned the old woman’s greeting.
“Enjoyed your wedding night?”
Draco almost choked on his tea and Senia cackled at his reaction.
“Erm yes — we — it was — ” he stammered at her knowing look.
“No need to be shy, boy,” she chuckled, using wandless magic to make herself a cup of tea before Draco could offer. “The soul bond is a wonderful, beautiful thing.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, Senia taking on a distant look while she sipped from her cup.
“Does it get lonely? Out here in the woods?”
Senia cocked her head, carefully considering his question.
“Not as much as it seems,” she replied with a kind smile. “I’ve lived a long time and spent almost my entire life in this forest surrounded solely by nature. As these cities are built, we sometimes forget what it’s like to enjoy the simplicity of life around us — in the way little birds crack from their shells and take their first flight, in streams full of silver fish forging their way against the current, the beautiful decay of leaves in the autumn. No — I suppose I don’t feel lonely. Solitude perhaps but when one isn’t afraid of themselves, they are able to find peace with or without the company of others.”
Draco nodded in understanding. Growing up, his life was made up of pureblood politics, society events, and ploys to secure power. His father had sought to elevate their family’s status and even he had to admit his mother was not immune to the luxury, reputation, and power that came with their family’s legacy. But during war, being stripped of who he was and what he had — being forced to confront himself as nothing more than a mortal man — he realized all that status and power meant nothing. It was in Scorpius and Hermione, in the simple everyday life with them that he felt a different kind of power. He felt a groundedness to his existence in being able to experience life in the most mundane of moments and being able to share those moments with the two people who held his heart in their hands.
“May I?” Breaking him from his thoughts, Senia gestured to his now empty cup. Draco nodded and silently handed it to her. Taking it with both hands, Senia peered into the cup.
Vaguely, he realized she was reading his tea leaves. He and Hermione shared the same skepticism towards divination thanks to Professor Trelawney. But he kept his thoughts to himself.
When she was done, the old woman grinned at him through the gaps in her teeth.
“Look,” she said, showing him the bottom of his cup. Draco looked but all he saw was a clutter of clumped leaves. He really needed his spectacles, he thought begrudgingly.
“It’s a phoenix,” Senia supplied when his face remained blank. Draco remained quiet, not remembering enough of Trawlaney’s classes to know its meaning. “It’s the symbol of new beginnings, of being reborn from the ashes.”
“I see…” Draco nodded so as not to hint at his opinions of the entire ordeal.
“A curious symbol, indeed.” Draco felt a sense of unease under her piercing stare. “Magic works in curious ways, Draco Malfoy. Us magical beings think we can control it, but it has a life of its own. In truth, magic works in its own ways, it chooses its wielder and always follows nature’s balance — it cannot be taken or forced for magic always finds a way. You’ll do well to remember that.”
Her words were laced with a hidden intention that he tried to unravel.
“I will,” he responded. “Thank you.”
Senia smiled warmly. “You’re welcome.”
Even as he turned back to his son and wife, the words turned over in his mind.
***
“Bye-bye fae-ries!” Scorpius yelled from his perch in Draco’s arms as they exited the cave.
“Are you sure you don’t want protection from the Order?” Hermione asked Senia in concern.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be safely hidden and I can handle myself,” she winked.
They had asked Senia the same question earlier after laying out the risks she was under. The old woman assured them that she would be safer where she was. They agreed to leave her and relaxed when she revealed that the venom could only be freely given so even if she was captured, Voldemort would not get possession of the missing ingredient.
Senia followed them to the puddle and, together, they all placed their hands on the surface. The world inverted and they found themselves in the clearing they had first arrived at. It seemed the same as they left it but Hermione’s magic flared in warning. On instinct, she conjured a shield — just as Draco did — and blocked an onslaught of spells that suddenly came their way.
“Watson!” Draco yelled. The elf instantly took the crying Scorpius from Draco’s arms and disapparated as Draco shielded Senia. He cursed — there were over a dozen Death Eaters surrounding them, making it impossible to disapparate without getting hit.
“Give us the serpent,” Mulciber’s familiar voice sounded from one of the masked Death Eaters.
Hermione smiled coldly. “It’s gone.”
“ Lies. ”
The Death Eaters attacked all at once.
In tandem, Draco and Hermione circled each other, back to back with Senia in the middle. The Death Eaters didn’t know she was the serpent and they were going to keep it that way.
Together they blocked, dodged, and fired curse after curse. Each spell held true, hitting each target with a honed precision. But more of them arrived.
With a cold fury, Draco’s magic was unrelenting and exacting. Hermione wove around him, leaving the Death Eaters paralyzed in her wake as their magic moved in harmony.
“Thanks,” he grunted when she blocked a spell aimed at his blindside.
“Anytime.” Hermione sent out a rapid succession of blinding curses when another set of Death Eaters arrived. “Cover me — I need to signal for backup.”
Draco did as he was told and released a dark cloud of shadows that obscured their attacker’s vision, giving her a chance to activate her coin. The odds were clear. They would not be able to protect themselves along with Senia so vastly outnumbered.
Returning to the fray, her adrenaline fueled her despite a few stray curses catching her off guard. In her periphery, she also noticed that Draco was using his right hand instead of his left and deduced he was likely injured.
Suddenly, multiple cracks sounded through the space and Hermione braced herself. To their relief, it was the Order. True enough, in the clearing stood Pansy, Blaise, Theo, Luna, and several other Order members.
“Need a little help?” Blaise smirked at Draco when they found themselves dueling side by side. “Watson and Scorpius are safe,” Blaise spoke, answering the silent question in his friend's eyes.
Draco and Blaise moved together, sending curses that effectively took down each Death Eater. Despite his concentration, Draco kept tabs on Hermione. It had become a habit — he knew she didn’t need his help, but she was his partner in both missions and life. It settled him knowing where she was.
Swiping his arm in an arc, Draco conjured a wall of flames to buy them some time.
“Are you alright?” Draco asked Senia. Thankfully, the Death Eaters didn’t seem to register her presence. She had stayed close behind him, deflecting rogue spells with wandless magic.
“All fine, all fine,” she answered, but there was an evident sorrow in her eyes as she observed the scorched earth, blood, bodies, and chaos around her.
“Now, Theo!” Pansy shouted. Draco turned just in time to see Theo perk up from where he had stunned a Death Eater and reach into his bag.
“On the ground!” Blaise’s voice boomed.
Just as Draco pushed Senia to the ground, Theo threw a silver disk into the air before also taking cover. The disk spun, shooting an array of tiny darts that embedded themselves into anyone left standing. Heart pounding in his chest, Draco searched for Hermione. He relaxed when he saw her pinned down by Pansy. Pansy caught his eye and smirked, nodding that she had her.
Like flies, Death Eaters dropped to the ground. Theo stood, grinning as the others followed. He froze, however, and went pale as his eyes latched on to something coming out of the woods.
“Have we missed the fun?” a familiar voice crooned beyond the trees. Out of the forest, flanked by another set of Death Eaters, was Bellatrix.
Beside her was the dark form of Harry Potter. Voldemort.
“Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger,” he intoned in curious amusement. Voldemort's crimson eyes gleamed like fresh blood, stark against his graying features. The dark webbed veins stemming from his scar were more prominent, highlighting the cruel cut of his face. “And the True Order.”
The Death Eaters behind him shifted. Bellatrix cackled in anticipation, flexing her hands around her wand.
The edge of Harry’s lips lifted.
“Hand over the serpent and we’ll be merciful,” the Dark Lord spoke, his tone deceptively calm. When none of the Order members moved, his smile widened. He raised the Elder Wand, cool bone and ivory in his grip. “Very well.”
“ Expulso !”
“ Aveda — ”
The clearing burst into chaos and Hermione found herself somewhere at the heart of the battle.
“Hello little mudblood,” a voice cooed. Hermione turned, her jaw clenching. “Scared, girl?”
Hermione smiled sharply. “No.”
Bellatrix snarled, slashing her wand abruptly but Hermione blocked the spell, maintaining her ground. Then Hermione went on offense.
A brief flicker of confusion passed over Bellatrix’s expression as Hermione dueled her with a ruthlessness that surprised her. Their magic flared, Bellatrix’s a dark looming beast that sought to overpower her. But what she didn’t know was that Hermione had been observing her, studying her and the nature of her power for years. She had been waiting since the mudblood slur was carved into her flesh, biding her time for the right moment. Hermione had learned that Bellatrix was fueled by intent and the potency of her own innate power — but also by pride and arrogance, the desire to let her magic overpower and unleash itself even if it manifested into something uncontrolled. Reckless. And it would be her undoing.
A dark spell shot at her, too quick for her to dodge completely. Hermione hissed as the cure grazed her wrist, causing her to lose her grip on her wand.
“Lost your wand, mudblood?”
Her wand was out of reach, leaving her defenseless. Still, Hermione stood her ground, watching Bellatrix with a quiet calm.
Breathing deeply, Hermione focused, focused on the strings of magic connecting her with everything around her. She felt a current of electricity, building and looming before her like a tempest. The world slowed as she reached out and latched on to the chords that vibrated violently, warning her of what was to come.
“ Crucio !”
The spell came directly for her, but she remained steady. Like a conduit, she opened herself to the electrifying current that crashed into her and used her own magic — not to tame it, but guide it. For a brief moment, the spell coursed through her body but she redirected the energy outside of her, releasing it back through the threads connecting her with everything around her.
All at once, Bellatrix arched and spasmed violently, the shock of her own spell sending her to her knees.
Recognition lit her eyes and anger crackled around her. “Where did you learn that?” she snapped, recovering from the aftershocks of the cruciatus .
“Didn’t you hear?” Hermione raised a brow. “I’m part of the family now. Well… Draco taught me Black family magic before we soul bonded but I suppose that doesn’t matter.”
During their training, Draco had revealed to her the possibility of redirecting spells. Immediately, the cruciatus came to her mind. No longer did she want to be afraid of the pain nor haunted by the woman in her nightmares. She was ready to be brave.
“Are you sure?” Draco asked, hesitant.
“I am. I’m ready.”
Draco nodded, raising his wand and pointing it towards her. They had practiced redirection using other spells but never this. But she insisted despite Draco’s hesitance.
“Remember to not contain the spell, but instead let it flow through you. Pull on the strings and release it back,” he said carefully. She nodded, bracing herself once more. “Crucio.”
Palpable rage flashed over Bellatrix’s features before she hurled spell after spell at her, anger a driving force for her attacks. But Hermione took the opportunity of her blind rage to inch towards her wand.
“ Debilito !” she hissed, slashing her wand and causing Bellatrix to freeze and fall to the ground, leaving her mentally paralyzed. Standing over her, Hermione smiled and ran back to help the others.
***
Voldemort cut down all in his path as Draco continued to shield Senia, hoping to get her away from the chaos. He was not quick enough.
“What’s this?” The Dark Lord asked, eyeing the women. Suddenly, a harsh hissing sound came from his lips and Draco went rigid as Senia began to shape shift. Her old leathery skin melted off her body until white scales gleamed through. Her body expanded and grew until she was in her full form.
“ Come ,” the Dark Lord hissed. But despite his commands, Senia resisted.
At Voldemort’s distraction, Draco caught him off guard with a spell that wound around him like a snake made of shadows, encasing his movement. The Dark Lord growled, wordlessly dissolving the shadows into flames that he shot back at Draco. But Draco was prepared, countering the spell with a wall of ice. Draco’s power surged inside of him, untamed as he faced the man who had caused him and those around him so much suffering.
The two wizards battled each other. And in the moment of crescendo, their wands met, their magic pushing at each other in a violent torrent of power. Voldemort’s eyes widened at Draco’s unwavering hold, the inky veins on his face spreading like sprawling webs.
“ No !” Bellatrix’s scream pierced the clearing.
Concentration broken, Draco and Voldemort’s contact exploded, sending them flying apart. Voldemort staggered to his feet and turned to where Bellatrix was attempting to stop the serpent — Senia — from crumbling into white ashes and drifting away. Draco thought he saw her purple eye wink at him before she disappeared.
“What have you done!” Bellatrix was hysterical as she pointed her wand at Hermione and levitated her, sending her into a tree.
Hermione groaned, gritting her teeth. Bitch .
On instinct she rolled, dodging another hit. Hunched over her fractured ribs, Hermione tried to protect herself with a shield but Bellatrix broke it effortlessly. There was a different kind of desperation in Bellatrix’s manic eyes that Hermione had not seen before — an underlying terror that fueled her attacks. Hermione grunted, ignoring the piercing sensation in her gut.
“ Bellatrix ,” his voice — Harry’s voice — commanded. With an angry snarl, Bellatrix twisted, swallowed by darkness as Voldermort and his followers disappeared.
***
“How do you feel?”
Hermione looked up from where she sat on the edge of her cot in the infirmary as Draco came over and assessed her.
“I’m alright.”
Once satisfied, Draco offered his hand and helped her up. Instantly, she wrapped her arms around him.
Laying her head on his chest, she inhaled his scent as his arms wrapped around her. His chin grazed the top of her head before she felt the soft press of his lips moments later.
“Senia, she — she just dissolved. Bellatrix was after her and I held her back but the next thing I knew, she was just gone,” Hermione said helplessly, remembering the kind old woman.
Draco stroked her hair, pulling her more tightly against him.
“I think she knew what she was doing. She knew how desperately the Dark Lord wanted her,” he murmured. Hermione sighed, bone tired.
“I want to discuss something with you,” Draco murmured.
Hermione pulled back, looking at him curiously.
His brows pinched. “I’m not quite certain about it… and it may be far-fetched but it could be something.”
Hermione listened, lacing their hands together. “Go on.”
“Not here though. I need Kingsley’s pensieve.”
***
“ — the time to act is now !”
Kingsley sighed as Ginny Weasley slammed her palms on the meeting table, her face almost as red as her hair.
“He’s weak and we’ve taken away the missing ingredient. All that’s left is Nagini, then we can end this war, once and for all.”
There was a murmur of assent around the room. Hermione looked over at Draco seated across from her, his passive face giving no hint of his underlying thoughts. But in the tightness of his jaw and slow tap of his finger on the arm of his chair, Hermione could tell he was not impressed by Ginny’s speech.
“We have a plan.” Kingsley’s voice quieted the room. Ginny inhaled deeply before settling down. “Moody if you would do the honor.”
Moody grunted and stood. “We will set up a diversion. The allies and support we received from the American and European ministries along with our members will be focused on addressing the mass of Death Eaters and their experiments. From our scouts and informants, we have learned that most of their fighters are new recruits despite their large numbers.”
“And how exactly are we going to address the werewolves and humanoid snake creatures under their control without wasting lives?” an older Order member asked.
Kingsley spoke this time. “They will be dealt with accordingly. Theo and Luna have been working on auditory devices that emit a sound at a pitch only werewolves can hear, enough to break them out of the control that holds them — at least momentarily so they can be stunned. They can still be saved.” Hermione exhaled, glad that after hours of advocating for the victimized wolves, Moody and Kingsley had finally agreed that they would attempt to keep the wolves alive. “As for the snake humanoid creatures, we’ve also developed a spray to keep them subdued. Our healers are also equipped to handle any infections, thanks to Ms. Granger’s antidote.”
The members murmured and Moody nodded at her. Hermione smiled at him in return.
“While this is happening and their forces are distracted, we will be sending in a smaller team led by Ginny Weasley to go after Nagini and, if possible, the Dark Lord himself.” Moody’s magical eye bobbed in its socket, scrutinizing each member.
“And how can we be sure the snake is the last horcrux? What if he made another?” a Ravenclaw Hermione couldn’t put a name to asked.
Many eyes turned towards the leader of the mission, Ginny.
Ginny cleared her throat. “I think it would be a reasonable assumption. He’s weak and surely… Hermione, what do you think?”
“I think it’s a valid assumption that Nagini is the last horcrux,” Hermione said carefully. “If his growing desperation to find a new vessel is also an indicator, we can reasonably assume his soul is too unstable to rip apart again. According to the texts, ripping it in half just once does irreversible damage. If we are right, that would leave just Nagini.”
“We have already located Nagini — she’s being kept close by his side in the old Riddle mansion, guarded by dementors,” Ginny supplied. “But our scouts have not been able to get close — there are enchantments surrounding it and our information is based on the limited knowledge we’ve been able to put together.”
“It's a risk,” Kingsley spoke up. “But he’s weak. With the diversion, it should leave Nagini and potentially even the Dark Lord open. However , for this mission we have decided that it will be on a volunteer basis. Knowing the full risks and the underlying assumptions you are working under, we want you to make the choice for yourselves. But whether it's now or down the line, that last horcrux needs to go.”
***
The day passed in battle preparations. The Slytherin’s were present, Theo and Luna taking over a couple of meetings to demonstrate their new devices. As they continued to prepare themselves for what was to come, Scorpius never left Hermione’s mind.
Over the past few days, Scorpius was more and more silent. He clung on to her and Draco longer and had a clear anxiety in his eyes whenever they found him still awake on nights they returned home late. She and Draco had discussed that they needed to have a conversation with him before they left for the battle. The plan was to leave him with Pansy and Blaise at their unplotted manor-turned-safehouse in one of the many Zabini properties with the other children and Order members left to protect them. It scared her, killed her knowing that they had to have a conversation with him about what was going on and what might happen. But they had to — in case one of them did not return.
“One of us has to live,” Draco murmured, stroking Scorpius’ head from where he was snuggled between them. The little boy had tried to stay awake, but waiting up for them despite Watson’s stern admonishments had left him exhausted.
Hermione swallowed, trying to blink away the wetness in her eyes as he echoed her thoughts. “You’re right. We can’t leave him alone. You — ”
“Hermione.” His voice was dangerously soft. “If it comes down to one of us — ”
“No, Draco,” she retorted sharply. “You will not force me to make that choice.”
Draco remained quiet even as a chord of tension pulsed at his neck.
“If one of us goes down — and it can be either of us —” her voice was shaky, “the other has to do whatever it takes to return to Scorpius alive. No matter what.”
Draco’s face was stony in evident anger. Hermione cupped his cheek and his jaw tensed underneath her palm.
“Please.”
He inhaled sharply, wrapping his hand around her wrist tightly. His eyes conveyed all he did not say.
“Alright.”
Hermione was lost in her thoughts when Pansy broke the silence.
“I’m angry at you, you know,” Pansy sniffed after a few minutes of Hermione casually ignoring the witch’s little hmph s every other second.
“And whatever for?” Hermione said amused, finally giving in and turning her full attention to Pansy Parkinson Zabini.
“You got married — no, soul bonded — and didn’t invite me or even tell me!” Pansy shrieked. Hermione winced but felt a stab of pity at the witch’s devastated face. “You just show up with Narcissa’s ring on your finger and Draco wearing the Malfoy signet ring again and think you would not face me? Now you're Hermione Malfoy — ”
“Well, Malfoy-Granger…” Hermione murmured.
It was what Draco had wanted — for him and for Scorpius. It was to remind her that she was their family and that they were hers as much as she was theirs.
“ What ?”
“Look, Pans,” Hermione began as she gripped Pansy’s arms, “we would have loved to have you guys there but it was just a small impromptu ceremony.”
Pansy bristled as if the phrase small-impromptu-ceramony was a personal trigger. Hermione blinked in surprise at Pansy’s wide green eyes shimmering, a brief flash of hurt in them
“Oh, don’t cry…”
“I’m not crying, you are !” Pansy yelled angrily.
“Wha — ” Hermione stuttered, blinking back the wetness in her own eyes she didn’t even realize was there.
Hermione crossed her arms and sighed. “It was a last minute decision okay , but it also just felt right. To me it was actually perfect… And, yes, before you accuse me, I was being a little selfish . And you know what, I don't feel sorry about it.”
Pansy’s lips pursed, but to Hermione’s surprise, it melted into a smile that was a little too smug. “Huh, I’ll accept that, Granger. In fact, I’m quite proud of you for shedding that Gryffindor holier-than-thou selflessness.”
Hermione shook her head, chuckling.
“Fine, I forgive you,” the witch sighed moments later. Pansy continued speaking before Hermione could remind her that she hadn’t asked for her forgiveness. “ But when all of this is over, you will — yes, Hermione Malfoy-Granger will — have another civil ceremony. It’s going to be a big ceremony featuring me as your bridesmaid. Not the Weaslette, me .”
Hermione stuttered at the utter possessiveness of her voice.
“What was that?” Pansy said innocently when Hermione grumbled under her breath. Slytherins…
“Nothing, nothing,” she replied, unable to suppress the laugh bubbling inside of her as Pansy smirked triumphantly.
***
“You know,” Hermione began as she sorted the documents out neatly on the table for the meeting she and Draco would be heading, “apparently Pansy has decided that she’s throwing us another wedding ceremony when the war is over, featuring her as my bridesmaid.”
Draco merely chuckled as he straightened one of the parchments.
“Trust me,” he drawled, “it’s much easier to just let her have her way.”
Hermione snorted in agreement.
“ Damn ,” he muttered as a line of blood bloomed from his finger tip.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione was immediately by his side.
“Paper cut,” he murmured as Hermione inspected the thin cut.
Draco stilled as warm lips circled against his fingertip. Hermione looked up at him from under heavy lashes as she softly sucked on his finger, causing his body to go rigid.
“Oh Merlin, Circe, and Morgana!” a voice shrieked, followed by a retching sound by the door. Their heads whipped towards the doorway where Theodore Nott stood, shielding his eyes. “ Really ?! Here?! My eyes, dear god.”
“You can look now, Theodore,” Draco sighed with an eye roll at his friend’s dramatics. Draco stared at Theo blankly with a sardonic eyebrow raised.
Theo peaked between his fingers and breathed a sigh of relief that elicited a giggle from Hermione.
“Caught our newlyweds making due on their honeymoon time, I see?” Blaise said as he strode into the room. “Come on, Nott, it couldn’t have been worse than the sight of you kissing Lucius Malfoy’s bust in sixth year when you got wasted.”
Draco snickered and Theo reddened.
“It was a dare ,” he muttered. “Says the two with witches pulling on their leashes.”
“I don’t mind,” Blaise replied with a grin. He took a seat at the meeting table and put his feet on it, earning him a look of disapproval from Hermione. Draco flicked his wrist, knocking Blaise’s feet off the table with wandless magic. “Leashes and collars can keep things interesting in the bedroom.” Blaise winked, causing Theo to retch again.
***
“What did Ginny Weasley want?” Draco asked as Hermione sat next to him. Headquarters was more crowded than usual that evening. She was unsurprised to find him alone at the back porch pouring over a report.
“She invited me to a meeting with some old members of Dumbledore’s army who are planning to go on the mission to take out Nagini.”
Draco stilled.
“I know this friendship with her is fragile but whatever heroic tactics they are planning…” he said carefully.
“No I know,” Hermione sighed, surprising him. “There’s no solid plan yet actually — that’s why they need me.”
She turned fully towards him.
“I know it's a risk to volunteer on the mission but how long can we go in hiding and winning small battles? I — I’ve always known that there was a price to winning. I’ve long accepted that one day — ”
“ Don’t ,” he snarled, eyes so cold it almost startled her. “You don’t need my permission — never had, never will — you know that.” Draco’s voice was hoarse as he loomed over her. “You know that I would never stand in the way of what you want. But I’m still entitled to how I feel especially when I see you being overused as some resource for those who can’t think for themselves as if your mind is the only thing of value about you — as if your value could even be reduced to such. And perhaps this makes me selfish because I really don’t give a fuck about them, but you deserve to have a life after all this.”
Hermione’s breath stuttered at the raw intensity of his expression. It was clear that he would not let her be a sacrifice or a means to an end.
“I – I don’t know what to do, Draco.” The admission fell from her lips from the deepest cracks of her soul. She was lost — there was a chance to finally end the war but there was so much at stake, so much information they still did not have. She did not know what to do.
“Live, Hermione,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her cheek with a soft reverence that made her crumble. “Don’t throw your life away. You have a home at the end of this — Scorpius and me.”
His forehead dipped to rest upon hers and he inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut.
“And so help me, I won’t let you forget that. Which is why you can tell Ginny Weasley I’ll also be on the team. We will figure this out. Together.”
“Draco,” she startled, “the risks and with what we agreed for Scorpius, perhaps one of us should — ”
He cut her off with a dry chuckle.
“We’re soul bonded,” he said, brushing his thumb gently across the ring on her finger. “Did you forget the vows we made?”
When you walk through running rivers, I shall be with you. And when they try to drown you, I will be your breath. And when you walk through fire, I shall follow you. For only those who are afraid shall burn.
“We’re doing this together.” His voice was laced with a firm resolve that she knew would not waver. “And we’re going to do this our way.”
Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed softly against hers. She responded in kind, a calm settling around her, a burden lifting from her shoulders. She wasn’t alone in this. It was okay to share the weight of all she carried, it was okay to ask for help.
“I’ve been researching more about what we saw in the pensieve. I finally got in contact with a specialist confirming the lore but there is no specific information about a case like this,” Draco said quietly once they broke apart.
Hermione blinked in surprise. “If – if this works…”
Draco took her hand, gaze never leaving hers. “It could change things.”
“But you know what this means?” she whispered, worry burning in her eyes.
“We’ll do it together.”
Notes:
A/N: Here we gooooo! Not sure if you guys noticed, but I reduced the expected chapter parts from 44 to 43. I didn’t cut anything but instead simply merged two chapters into this chapter. As you know, the first bare bones draft of the entire fic is completed and, weekly, I edit each chapter for posting. Sometimes the first draft will be quite short, leaving some space for me to add new fresh ideas. But in this case, I thought it would make sense to combine the chapters and not add any more scenes since I didn’t want to drag these parts along as it didn’t add to the plot or characters in any way!
Also thank you to Uncle Iroh from Avatar the Last Airbender! That scene when he taught Zuko how to redirect lightning was the obvious inspo here with Hermione using Black family magic against Bellatrix’s crucio!!
The next two chapters will be about the final battle, and the third will be the epilogue!! Hope you enjoyed this little quiet before the storm. Get readddyyyy!! I have more than one trick/surprise up my sleeve. See you at the funeral – OOPS!!
Chapter 41: Chapter XL
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.”
— Mary Elizabeth Frye
“ — from what we know, the Riddle manor was mostly used as a storage unit for collected Dark Objects during the war,” Ginny began, “but over the coming months there has been more activity sighted there. In particular, dementors have been on guard, suggesting something is being hidden there. Additionally, one of the Death Eaters we captured admitted that Nagini is in there and only Bellatrix and the Dark Lord are allowed inside.”
Hermione surveyed the room, packed enough that there weren’t enough seats on the table. She was surprised at how many turned up, but she recognized the hollow looks on their faces. She was not the only one who had had enough of the war dragging on.
Some Order members shifted around her and she didn’t need to turn her head to know that Draco had his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized every word of the plan. Ignoring the glances at her ring, Hermione tried to concentrate on what Ginny was saying. Word had spread quickly about their union but no one dared comment. The only ones not unsettled by their presence were Theo and Luna who also decided to volunteer on the mission.
“ — we’ll divide the team into groups to handle the dementors and Death Eaters while one group focuses on getting inside and taking out Nagini. Kings and Moody have given us the last basilisk fang and so the group going in will take it. We only get one shot at this and we need to be ready for whatever is inside.”
Ginny looked the true general, confident and unfaltering as those in the room murmured in assent. Ron was on his sister’s right, a serious determination on his face that Hermione hadn’t seen in a long time. Taking in the rest of the room, Hermione looked at the faces around her, faces that she may never see again. Despite not being close to many of them, they were still all together in this war. At the end of the day, they all wanted the same thing.
“Theodore and I have finished perfecting the device that dismantles wards such as anti-apparition ones. We’ve also got some other weapons that might be useful for this particular mission,” Luna chirped in. “For example, we have a spray we can use on the Death Eaters to make the wrackspurts go after them.”
Hermione looked curiously at the proud look in Theo’s eyes as he watched Luna continue speaking. It was a deep look, so odd yet natural on his usually playful face. She smiled, glad that there were some good things that managed to bloom in this war.
“Although we have that last basilisk fang Hermione saved, we’ve been working with Kingsley on developing a backup and it’s only now that we can confirm it works.” Draco cocked his head in interest at Theo’s words. “We’ve managed to contain fiendfyre,” Theo finished with a grin.
A chorus of gasps resounded throughout the room, including Hermione’s. Even Draco blinked in surprise. Perhaps they did have a chance.
***
Two jackets, pajamas, underwear…
Hermione grazed her fingers along Scorpius’ stuffed dragon before shrinking it along with the oversized ferret Draco had won at the fair. She placed them inside the bag she added an extension charm to, followed by Scorpius’ books. It was time. Running through her mental list of what else Scorpius needed, Hermione distracted herself from thinking about what was going to happen next or what could happen.
The next thing she reached for was one of her most treasured items. It was the strip of photographs of the three of them from the fair photo booth. Hermione smiled fondly at Scorpius’ and her grinning faces, Draco’s expression going from broody, to confused, then pensive in each photo. These were the only photographs they had together and she wanted Scorpius to have it, to always remember. Carefully, she placed it in the bag along with two envelopes containing letters she and Draco had written for Scorpius… in case.
When she finished her letter to Scorpius, it had left her more anxious than settled. Draco found her the night before in the small library restlessly writing on an almost two foot long parchment. It was a manual for Blaise and Pansy about Scorpius. She made sure to list the lullabies he liked that helped him fall asleep, to explain that Scorpius was more likely to eat his veggies if he was not forced but instead given an explanation to understand why and how it was good for him. Because Scorpius liked to understand things — even if his vocabulary was still growing, he liked to learn and be treated like he was capable of handling information.
When he was moody, sometimes Scorpius just needed to express himself through art or go outside for fresh air. He liked books before bed and didn’t like bath time so they needed to watch out for that, especially his sneaky negotiation tactics. Scorpius was scared of thunder and he needed to be reminded that it was okay to be scared and that he was safe. Sometimes Scorpius just needed a hug and ate too much chocolate even if his tummy would hurt. Oh and to check his socks where he sometimes kept secret supplies of chocolate. She remembered to also mention that Scorpius loved to draw and if they didn’t mind, to let him hang up his work and encourage him in whatever he was passionate about. She wanted them to show him the stars and to remember Astoria and Raul’s tradition on the day of her death where they put twin hibiscus flowers on a flowing river.
There was so much more she wanted to tell them, so many things she wanted to write to make sure her little boy was going to be okay and be taken care of. And that’s how Draco found her, frantically scribbling on the parchment, so focused she hadn’t realized he was there. When he asked what she was doing she tried to speak but she stumbled and choked from the emotions about to break her from the inside out. He reached out for her and she immediately launched herself at him, burying herself into his chest and finally let herself break. She was terrified for Scorpius — she didn't want him to lose anyone anymore. Silently, Draco held her, his arms secure and safe around her. He was a steady anchor through the violent waves crashing inside of her.
Although Draco remained silent, she didn’t miss the slight shakiness in his breath nor the almost imperceptible tremble of his hand. He was trying hard not to break.
We will find a way , he whispered.
“Look, mama! I’m in my coat like daddy!”
Hermione zipped the bag up quickly and dabbed her eyes before turning to the pair that entered the room. She put on a big smile that turned genuine at the adorable sight of Scorpius dressed in his tiny shield cloak Luna and Theo had given him.
“You look very handsome!” She chuckled when the boy preened.
Scorpius buried his bashful face into his father’s chest, reminding her of the first time she met him. He still latched on to his father and his eyes held the same worldly curiosity she hoped was never extinguished. But the boy before her was bigger now, growing a little more into his features and exuded more confidence and bravery despite all he had gone through. Hermione wondered if she would get to see him grow up. She wondered if he would be nervous or excited for his first day of school like she was, if one day he would make friends his age and get to have a normal life without looking over his shoulder. She hoped he never felt alone and should she and Draco not come back, that he would be able to move on without them. She remembered Harry growing up an orphan and she prayed he would never feel unwanted or unloved. She trusted Blaise, Pansy, and Watson to take care of him and be his family — Theo and Luna as well. All she wished for was more time, to be able to grow old with Draco and be with him and Scorpius as a little family.
“Mama?” Scorpius broke her from her thoughts and reached out to her, brows pinched in concern.
“Yes, love,” Hermione said shakily. Automatically, she took him into her arms and held him close. She sat on the bed and Scorpius buried his face in her neck while Draco joined them.
“Scorpius, we’d like to talk to you about something before we go,” Draco began.
Scorpius pulled back, shifting his eyes between them. Draco nodded for Hermione to continue, his hand resting solidly on her lower back, steadying her.
“Scorp, love,” gently, she brushed his hair back, “your father and I are going on a mission so we will be gone for a while. You’ll be staying with Watson at Uncle Blaise and Aunt Pansy’s home.”
Scorpius listened but didn’t seem to grasp that this was different from the missions she and Draco usually went on. Hermione hesitated and Draco continued for her.
“Your mama and I will try to come home to you as soon as possible, but this mission is dangerous. We are going after the bad people. You remember them, right?” Scorpius’ eyes widened and he nodded. “Sometimes things don’t turn out how we want them to. One of us will try to come back, we will try to promise that but still, we want you to be prepared in case something goes wrong. Do you remember what your Nana Cissa told you?”
Scorpius blinked. “Nana says — Nana says she is here wid mother Storia, and gran-pa…” he said pointing to his heart.
Draco’s jaw clenched, fighting to remain calm.
Hermione pulled Scorpius closer, blinking back tears. “Yes. Your daddy and I will always be in your heart just like you are always in our heart.”
She placed her hand on her chest to emphasize her words.
Scorpius looked pensive before placing a small hand on his own chest as well, his face turning serious.
Draco lifted the boy’s chin. “No matter what happens, we will always love you. So much . But remember there are other people who love you too and who will love you. Right now you have Aunt Pansy, Uncle Blaise, Uncle Theo…”
“And Watsy?”
Hermione laughed. “Yes and Watsy.”
“We’ll always be a family even if you can’t see us or hear us. You will always feel how much we love you because we are always going to be watching you and we will always be with you in here,” Draco said gently, tapping the hand on Scorpius' heart. “We love you, just remember that.”
Scorpius didn’t respond but his lips wobbled before he threw himself at them. Draco and Hermione instantly wound themselves around him, holding their son close between them. Hermione could tell her little boy was trying to be strong. It was not long before she felt his tears on her neck as she rubbed circles on his back and whispered that it was okay, that they were going to be okay. The words weren’t only for his comfort.
Draco’s eyes were shut but Hermione didn’t miss the single tear that silently slid down his cheek. They held each other like it was the last time.
***
“But wheres we going?” Scorpius pouted from his perch on Hermione’s hip. Draco’s grip was tight in her other hand.
“We’re taking you to Aunt Pansy and Uncle Blaise’s place in a moment,” Hermione replied, trying to reassure the boy. They stood just outside headquarters waiting for Watson who would be accompanying them.
“Kay…”
Draco cupped his son’s head. “You’ll behave?”
“Of-cowse, daddy!” The boy grinned back cheekily, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Hermione relaxed slightly, giving Draco’s hand a squeeze.
“We’re just waiting for Watson and then we’ll be good to go — ”
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a loud bang that shook the wards surrounding headquarters. Order members suddenly rushed out the house, wands raised as black figures surrounded the area.
“Get back,” Draco hissed, stepping in front of his wife and son. Vaguely he heard Hermione whispering to Scorpius who was whimpering as more loud sounds filled the space.
Draco felt a surge of protectiveness and fury go through him. He channeled it in every curse, tearing down every Death Eater that attempted to come their way. Everything erupted in chaos, the smell of smoke, sulfur, and fresh blood pungent in the air.
The rest of the Order members fought on, but most of their forces weren’t there.
“Draco!” Hermione shrieked from behind him.
Swiftly, he turned to see Hermione using one hand to hold Scorpius and the other to fend off a Death Eater. With Scorpius in her arms, she was too slow and unable to maintain her defensive shields. Suddenly, the tip of the Death Eater’s wand glowed purple before a dark curse hurled towards them. Hermione turned to shield Scorpius with her body just as Draco lunged at them, shutting his eyes as the world went violet.
He braced himself for the curse but instead the world around him was upended as a vacuum sensation sucked them in. The only thing pounding through his mind was Scorpius and Hermione in his arms.
“Scorpius! Hermione!” Draco gasped, trying to orient himself on the sprawled grass outside what he realized was the Zabini manor.
“We’re alright,” Hermione said shakily, holding Scorpius close to her.
Draco sighed in relief. He shut his eyes and pulled them close.
“Watsy!” Scorpius screamed.
The pair snapped their heads to where Scorpius was looking, and sure enough, there lay the elf. His purple eyes were wide and glassy as he curled into himself, the left side of his body evidently hit.
“ Fuck ,” Draco cursed upon noticing the rapidly growing curse. It was the one aimed at Scorpius and Hermione. Watson’s flesh on the left side of his body turned black, as if rotting from the inside out. Blood spilled from the gaping wound, black and sticky, despite Hermione’s attempts to heal the damage.
“Watson, can you hear me?” Hermione asked urgently, kneeling by his side as Scorpius sobbed. “Watson?”
The old elf choked, facing going pale. Nothing Hermione was casting seemed to help.
“I think I can at least slow it down.” Hermione swallowed before muttering an onslaught of complex spells. Draco joined her, focusing his magic on alleviating Watson’s pain.
The curse slowed but did not stop.
“Scorpius…” Draco said carefully. Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to save the elf but Draco could tell she was out of ideas.
Watson’s face turned pale, the darkness in his arm now spreading to his neck. But he managed to turn and look at Scorpius who knelt close by his side.
“You is okay, Watsy, you is okay,” Scorpius sobbed. Hermione looked up at Draco, tears in her eyes, silently shaking her head.
“Young M — Malfoy…” the elf rasped, trying to keep his eyes open. His unaffected hand was curled to his chest. He tried to lift it but failed. Hermione caught the movement, sighting a golden chain in his fist that connected in a loop around his neck — she hadn’t noticed the necklace before.
“Let me,” Hermione offered. Watson nodded.
Gently, she lifted his head and withdrew the delicate chain from around his neck. Once it came free, Watson’s fist unfurled, revealing a golden locket. Watson nudged his head towards Scorpius and Hermione placed the chain around the boy’s neck. It shrunk magically to fit him perfectly.
Scorpius lifted the locket in his palm and, with a click, it opened. Hermione gasped. Inside the locket was a shrunken drawing of Watson and Scorpius that she remembered Scorpius had drawn and given to him a long time ago.
“Young M — Malfoy is a good boy,” Watson whispered before coughing. Mustering the last of his strength, he lifted his hand and curled it over the hand Scorpius held the locket in.
“Watsy,” Scorpius’ voice croaked, his tiny body shaking as he tried to huddle closer to the elf.
“Watson is grateful to be a friend,” he continued, eyes landing on Scorpius, Draco, then Hermione. “Watson is… happy.”
Hermione screwed her eyes shut, unable to stop the tears flowing down her cheek.
Watson’s eyes started to dull. She glanced at Draco and noticed him in concentration, whispering rapidly under his breath with his wand pointed at Watson’s wound.
“Watson must go now,” the elf whispered. “Watson is thankful… to have family.”
Draco gritted his teeth, trying harder but the curse continued to spread.
The first drops of rain fell from the grey sky, fat drops that joined the tears on Hermione’s face. Watson gave Scorpius a soft smile, a smile Hermione had never seen on his face before.
Watson’s hand was still curled in Scorpius’ hand when his eyelids fluttered shut and his body went limp.
Draco’s eyes widened, his body sagging in defeat.
Scorpius did not make a sound. His cries were silent as sobs wracked through his small body. He buried himself in the elf’s chest even as blood seeped into his own shirt.
Draco, Hermione, and Scorpius stayed there under the rain, refusing to move. Draco’s eyes were pained as grief choked Scorpius’ little body.
They stayed there even after Pansy and Blaise found them, Scorpius never leaving Watson’s side. They stayed together as they buried Watson into the earth — a small grave for a small body, for an elf who had a bigger heart than anyone knew.
Grief was a quiet friend, a shadow lingering like a companion. Grief was silent and filled the empty spaces where love once lived. It was knees bent upon the soil in mortal surrender, the cold silence of memories that once lived so vibrantly, now faded in color and in sound. It looked like upturned earth and hollow ground, mournful eyes and shaky breaths. But it also looked like a crown of white flowers on a fresh grave, some petals crushed from small hands, and a locket clutched between small shaking fists.
Draco and Hermione silently thanked Watson for all he had done especially for the boy who had managed to worm his way into the old elf’s heart.
Scorpius bowed his head over Watson’s grave, still holding on to the locket as he whispered into the ground. “I love you, Watsy.”
***
The Riddle manor loomed before them, dark and foreboding. Dementors floated around it as if suspended underwater — sentries of the Dark Lord. Frost coated the graying grass as the marble angel in the graveyard stood like the angel of death with its hollow eyes and great wings spread in flight.
Draco observed the structure from where he and the rest of the Order members hid. His eyes zeroed in on the entry levels, comparing it with the blueprints he had studied. A warm hand slipped into his, pushing the coldness at bay. Scorpius was safe with Pansy and Blaise, and Hermione was by his side. He reminded himself of this over and over again, using it to focus on their task at hand.
Currently, their allies and the rest of the Order were engaged in the final battle, serving as a distraction for their team to go after Nagini. They suffered no losses from the attack at headquarters. Most survived and escaped, the attackers consisting of mostly new Death Eater recruits. It was clear that the attack wasn’t intended to take them out — it was a message. And they were ready to answer it.
“Now,” Hermione commanded and the group she was leading fell into place, including himself, Theo, Luna, and a few other members. The rest of those who volunteered for the mission were led by Ginny and Parvati, located on the other side of the manor.
Draco squeezed her hand before letting go as Luna flung a bronze object with her wand. It crashed into the invisible ward surrounding the manor and sent a ripple of lightning through it before the layers of magic protecting the structure began to peel away. At once, the teams apparated just outside the house. They took the Death Eaters guarding the perimeter by surprise, immediately nullifying them. But their upperhand didn’t last long as dementors swarmed them from above.
Letting his emotions simmer into the back of his mind, Draco fought with quick precision. A large Death Eater blocked his path and hurled spells at him in rapid succession. But Draco was patient, taking advantage of his enemy’s brute force and impatience.
“This isn’t a dance,” the Death Eater growled, his movements getting sloppy.
A cold smile graced Draco’s lips as he fluidly dodged each attack. He chose to wait and bide his time for the moment that would present itself to him if he was patient. And then it arrived in the slight delay of the Death Eater’s movement, his weight off balance from the force of his own blind attacks. Draco exploited it.
“ Fulgurio ,” he snapped, sending a purple curse straight at his attacker and taking him down in one strike. For Watson , Draco whispered, his anger resurging. Because this had to end, this had to stop. He would be damned should he let another person be a victim to this war.
Suddenly, a piercing scream sounded, making his blood run cold. He recognized it. It was the same scream that shook his nightmares, that rang through the white marble walls of his childhood home — a scream that brought him once more to the memory of a girl bloodied at his feet while she spasmed on the ground.
Blood pounding, Draco scanned the area and finally spotted Hermione surrounded by dementors feeding off of her. Her face was pale, eyes unseeing, her mouth opened in a desperate cry.
Ruthlessly, he cut a path directly to her, a spell on his lips that he had never been able to cast before.
His mind flooded with the image of brown eyes looking back at him with a kind of love he had thought he didn’t deserve, a little boy’s laugh, roses, wild hair, soft lips, and a yellow dress — something in him unleashed itself, a full feeling that rose inside of him and filled his very being. It called to him, this magic — so different, so light and yet —
“ Expecto Patronum !” his voice thundered.
And there it was, light pouring through the tip of his wand, beating back the darkness — and it was endless.
His magic swirled until it formed the shape of a creature. It was a lioness.
“Draco…” Hermione’s voice rasped.
“Are you alright?” He knelt by her side as the dementors were chased away by his patronus. Her expression was still stricken but some color was starting to return to her cheeks.
“Your patronus…” she mumbled, trying to come to her senses as he helped her sit up.
Draco blinked, only then processing that he had been able to cast the spell.
“A lioness. I — ” he shook his head, looking wide-eyed as the corporeal creature returned — a beautiful beast, proud with warm eyes, reminding him of someone with the same quiet confidence and power.
“We’re all dying here, mind you!” Theo shrieked, trying to battle off what looked like a large serpent creature.
“ Shit ,” Hermione cursed, recognizing the snake humanoid creatures they had encountered. It seemed like Voldemort had managed to keep some of them to guard the manor as well.
“ Confundus !” To the witch’s surprise it worked — the snake-humanoid creature after Theo doubled back. Its momentary confusion gave Draco an opportunity to send an acid curse its way, disabling the creature.
“Hermione! We cleared the entrance!” Ginny yelled as she battled another creature. They seemed to be holding their ground, the dementors held back by patronuses and most Death Eaters knocked out. “Go!”
“I have the fiendfyre and Luna has the explosions,” Theo panted as he, Draco, and Hermione ran towards the entrance. “She’ll hold off the attackers with the rest of Ginny and Parvati’s team and keep them distracted from going after us like planned.”
Upon reaching the door, she and Draco dismantled the wards with ease. Draco was precise, saying each memorized word exactly how she had taught him.
“ Contrarium et revelare ,” they chanted, weaving their wands in sync, “ quaerimus introitum .”
The double doors made out of black wood opened and they entered. The entryway was empty but they kept their wands raised.
“Do you hear that?” Theo whispered. They stood still as a deep hissing resounded through the walls. With their backs to each other, they followed the sound into a vast hall of mirrors.
Hermione looked down at the dark obsidian floors to the high ceiling. It looked different from what she expected and she had a guess that they remodeled the inside as it spoke nothing of muggle architecture. It was large and grand, but an edge of something sinister as if they were walking into the mouth of a fanged beast.
The door behind them clicked shut, locking them inside.
“ Alohomora ,” Hermione tried desperately but it remained shut. The room was dark except for a deep green glow from some unknown source.
“ Confringo !” Theo yelled as a scaly form glimmered on the edge of their vision, but the spell bound off the mirrored walls. The trio turned back to back and watched their own reflections carefully. Once more, a serpent appeared in and out of the reflections as if it was moving through the glass itself.
Nagini.
The mirrors seemed to move, changing the shape of the room into circles and spirals until they no longer knew where the entrance or exit was.
“One of these mirrors must be the portal out,” Hermione said, her mind calculating.
“And the snake?” Draco asked, sending another curse to a mirror that reflected Nagini, but it simply bounced back and the snake slithered away.
“Nagini must be tied to the magic in the mirrors,” Theo answered, brows furrowed as all the mirrors reflected the body of the snake. It wrapped around them like the Ouroboros. No end and no beginning.
Theo and Draco shot more spells at the mirror, but none of them shattered. They were stuck.
“The only way out of a circle is straight through,” Hermione murmured.
Draco’s brows raised, processing her words. Realization dawned on both their features and their heads snapped down to the obsidian marble reflecting their faces back at them. Catching on, Theo also pointed his wand towards the floor. Simultaneously, they fired a curse, shattering the floor as if it was glass.
The next thing they knew, they were falling into a chasm of darkness. Hermione choked out a spell just in time to cushion their fall.
“Everyone alright?” Theo asked.
“Yes,” Hermione replied, taking Draco’s offered hand to help her up.
Gathering her bearings, she looked around and noticed that they seemed to be in the same hall they entered, this time without the mirrors.
“Watch out!”
Draco and Hermione were knocked off their feet by Theo who pushed them to the ground. Nagini sailed over them, missing them by a breath. They scattered, trying to shoot the snake with an onslaught of spells but it remained impervious to their attacks. Nagini was much larger than Hermione remembered. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the snake had been magically experimented on.
“Theo!” Hermione yelled, but he was running towards the snake, a fierce determination in his eyes like she had never seen before. Theo dodged Nagini’s tail and threw a handful of marbles at the snake. The marbles melted into a sticky substance that bubbled under Nagini, binding her body to the ground.
“The fang!” Draco shouted, helping Theo keep Nagini at bay.
Hermione reached into her beaded back and extracted the fang, but immediately dropped it when it began to burn in her hand the moment it was exposed to the air.
“Draco, it’s melting!” The three watched in shock as the fang disintegrated. It was the last one.
“He must have put an enchantment on this room, of course!” Hermione growled. “He knew we had at least one fang.”
They were distracted once more when Nagini began to free herself, breaking the substance holding her down.
“Theo, now ,” Draco’s voice boomed.
On cue, Theo threw a triangular object at the snake. He whispered in concentration as it flew through the air and unlocked itself. Fiendfyre erupted from it but, to their relief, it stayed contained within an invisible ward. Nagini hissed, her body thrashing violently as her mouth yawned, fangs snapping. Something came out of Nagini’s mouth, a dark smoky substance that tried to escape the tendrils of fire latching on to it. But it was no match for the fiendfyre that had a life of its own. The smoke took on Voldemort's face, angry and monstrous as it tried to escape the ward but the fire only burned higher and more violently.
“ Shit ,” Theo exhaled as the fire engulfed the dark mass. When it was clear that the piece of Voldemort’s soul was gone, Theo cast a spell that sucked the fire back into the triangular object. “It’s dead. It’s done.”
Only Nagini’s body was left, somehow unburnt but completely lifeless.
Draco looked at Hermione with an incredulous look on his face. She didn’t know what compelled her — perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps relief but she launched herself at him, sealing their lips together.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” Theo moaned but Draco ignored him, pulling Hermione closer and kissing her hard.
Hermione pulled away, smiling.
“We’ll get through this,” she breathed before pressing her forehead to his.
His eyes fluttered shut, nodding softly.
“Theodore, what in Merlin’s beard do you think you're doing?” Hermione chastised.
Draco opened his eyes and bristled at the sight of Theo casting a feather-light charm on Nagini before heaving her onto his shoulders.
“What?” he said, innocently, stroking the snake on his shoulders as if it was a new scarf. “Luna and I would love to take samples.”
Theo grinned and Draco rolled his eyes. They began to make their way towards the exit, ready to join the others and finish the last part of their mission, when Hermione froze.
“Wait.”
Draco tensed. “What is it?” He lifted his wand and scanned the room.
“There’s dark magic here — more of it. It’s repelling us. I think — ”
Hermione waved her wand, muttering spells under her breath as a purple rune glittered on a set of green doors across the room. They had not noticed it before.
The three shared a look and approached the door carefully. After getting through the wards, Hermione opened it to what looked like a bedroom.
“Hello.”
Hermione startled at the sight of a little girl — not much older than Scorpius — standing in the middle of the room.
“Hi,” Hermione said carefully, lowering her wand.
The little girl cocked her head. Unruly black curls bounced on her shoulders as she stared back at them with unmistakable green eyes.
All breath left Hermione’s lungs as she fell to her knees.
“What’s your name?” It was Draco who asked the question.
Her face was foreign and familiar. Vaguely, Hermione recognized her as one of the faces the tree had shown her. Hermione paled, already knowing who she was. She looked so much like him.
The little girl blinked. “Delphini.”
Notes:
A/N: Ahhhhhhh here we are!!! Whewf this was a tough chapter. Rest in peace Watson — just know I cried writing that scene so don’t be too mad at me huhu
One more chapter to go before the epilogue — it's not over just yet!!
Chapter 42: Chapter XLI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.”
— Robert Frost
“What’s your name?” the little girl questioned back. Her voice was oddly calm, her speech more developed than it should have been for her age. There was something old and ageless about her — almost inhuman. Her features were pale and waxy, dark magic throbbing off of her.
“My name is Hermione,” Hermione replied, swallowing as she took a tentative step closer. “This is Draco and Theo.”
Delphini regarded them for a moment, observing them with a clinical curiosity. As Hermione got closer, she noticed faint black veins on the girl’s face stemming from her neck down to her chest. She shared a look with Draco. They were both thinking the same thing — Voldemort must have done something to her. Hermione had a sick feeling it had something to do with the vessel.
“Are you here to fix me?” Delphini’s eyes narrowed. Hermione blinked, kneeling before the little girl so that they were at eye level. Draco and Theo shifted behind her.
“Why would you need fixing?” Hermione asked carefully. It was too much, too familiar — the unruly black hair and the brilliant green eyes. She looked so much like Harry. And Bellatrix. Fuck . What have they done?
“Mother says I’m sick,” Delphini replied, frowning. “I hear things — when I sleep I get nightmares. It’s painful when Father gets angry. He’s always angry and it hurts.”
Hermione’s chest tightened.
“What have they been doing to fix you?” Draco asked this time. Hermione could not see him but she could hear the underlying severity in his voice.
“Many things,” Delphini shrugged nonchalantly. “Mother says they’re close to fixing me with medicine — from a snake like Nagini.”
It was then Hermione recognized Bellatrix’s desperate scream in the forest when Senia had disappeared — it was a mother’s cry.
“They said I will feel better,” Delphini continued. “It always hurts. Father is always angry.”
There was something wrong with Delphini. Something was possessing her — Hermione was sure of it. It was evident in the odd way she spoke and the hollowness of her voice — she didn’t sound like a child. She knew then what she had suspected — Delphini, Harry’s own child, was a horcrux. It fit into place with all they had tried to put together with Voldemort’s desperate search for a new vessel, the experiments, and the children. Not only did he turn his daughter into a horcrux, but Voldemort was also preparing her to become his new vessel.
“Draco… the time we followed the Death Eaters when they searched for the Gaunt squib…”
Realization dawned in Draco’s eyes. “The bone taken from the Gaunt child’s tomb.”
When they opened Michaela Gaunt’s tomb, it had been tampered with. The tomb reeked of Dark Magic. Hermione’s words echoed:
Most Dark rituals require some sort of offer or sacrifice… It requires a kind of violation of nature because all power comes with a price…
When the Dark Lord regained his form, the ritual involved the bones of his father. It was possible that they had used a similar ritual to transfer and prepare Delphini’s body to be a horcrux and future vessel. But looking at the black veins running delicately from her chest to her face, it was clear that the shard of Voldemort’s soul and whatever else they were doing to her were too much for her body. All the children they experimented on… it was practice before using Delphini.
“She can’t be much older than Scorpius. They likely knew from the beginning that Harry Potter’s body was weakening and they would need a new vessel. The pureblood decree for heirs and the missing children make sense now,” Draco’s jaw clenched. “But any other host would have just resulted in the same thing that is happening to Harry’s body now. The Dark Lord’s own child would already have some bond to him, making her a more suitable vessel. And the Senex Ahas — it was for this. They had made more progress than we thought. And it makes sense. Delphini’s magical core is already somewhat tied to his — in essence she is still the Dark Lord’s child though sired by Harry Potter’s body. She would be the perfect candidate to turn into a horcrux and, when the time comes, to use as his own vessel.”
Suddenly the girl began to spasm, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Hermione caught her before she could hit the ground. Immediately she began muttering spells under her breath as Draco and Theo moved to her side.
“It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” Hermione coaxed the girl to relax as the spells took hold. She knew however that the girl’s relief would only be temporary.
Delphini stopped spasming in her arms then slowly blinked up at them with glazed eyes.
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, concern tainting her voice. The black veins darkened over her pale features.
The girl nodded. “Mother says I’m sick.”
The three shared a look. Delphini was dying — she was in pain. Upon closer inspection, scars littered her inner forearm. Theo cursed, similarly recognizing the evidence of experimentation on her frail body.
“I thought it wouldn’t be sustainable to split his soul once more?” Theo asked.
“Unless they used the split shard that was already in Harry to transfer into her. It lived and we forgot about it,” Draco replied in a clipped voice.
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, face still tight as she stroked the girl’s face. “They must have used Harry’s shard and when she was old enough, they put that piece of the Dark Lord’s soul inside of her. All those times we’ve been following them on their search for magical devices and ingredients, all those experiments and soulless bodies, it was for her — to stabilize her body along with other kinds of experimentation I don’t even want to know about. The shard is in her, but still, such unnatural Dark Magic cannot be bonded in her body properly. And the snake venom, it’s gone…”
The girl continued to stare at them but her expression was vacant. It was faint but Hermione could hear her humming something under her breath.
“Delphini?”
The girl blinked, eyes now focusing on Hermione.
“Did your parents talk to you about something special happening? Maybe with your father?”
“They said I’m special,” the girl replied tonelessly. “They said I will help father because he is sick too. When I’m bigger…”
They were right — Voldemort planned to take over her body when she was older. A part of Hermione had hoped that somewhere, deep down, Bellatrix and Voldemort wanted to keep their child alive. But it seemed she was just another means to attain power and immortality.
Bile rose in Hermione’s throat as she exchanged glances with Theo and Draco.
“Will it stop?” Delphini asked, “The pain. Will it stop?”
Hermione hesitated. “We can try.”
Draco nodded.
“I have the dagger Draco gave me, the one that should be able to cut through bonds. Theo, will it work?”
Theo examined Delphini’s neck. “I can’t guarantee her body will make it, but it’s possible.”
“We will try to help you, Delphini, is that alright?” Hermione asked.
To her surprise the girl nodded. “Okay.”
Tentatively, Hermione reached out for her. She didn’t miss the girl's slight flinch before she relaxed when Hermione simply brushed her hair gently. In another life, she could have been her goddaughter. Hermione knew what she had to do.
“Just relax,” Hermione said quietly. “Is this okay?”
The little girl nodded, letting herself be pulled closer and unto Hermione’s lap. Hermione reached into her bag with shaking hands and pulled out the dagger, goblin-wrought silver capable of cutting magical bonds.
The only sounds that followed were the soft whiz of a blade and a child’s whimper. The blade sliced shallowly over her heart where the black veins stemmed from.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Hermione’s voice cracked, holding the little body against her. Draco immediately had his wand out, muttering healing spells where the cut was made.
“The spell is working but the wound keeps reopening,” Draco cursed.
Delphini’s eyes were unseeing as her mouth parted and a dark substance poured out. Hermione gasped as it grew into a large black serpent, looming above them with red eyes.
“Theo,” she exhaled, shielding Delphini in her arms, “the fiendfyre…”
“Wait.” It was Draco.
Draco moved in her peripheral vision before returning to them. Hermione gasped — in his hands was the sword of Gryffindor, which had been lost since the battle of Hogwarts.
Theo’s eyes widened. “How — ”
“The sword appears to those in need,” Hermione replied, still reeling in shock.
The black substance continued to grow into a looming beast, hissing at them. Immediately, Draco was there, the sword of Gryffindor glinting in his hands. Without hesitation, he swung the blade and directly embedded it into the horcrux.
It screamed a high pitched wail and Draco threw himself around Hermione and Delphini, the sword still embedded into the horcrux.
Then it was silent. The sword clattered on the ground and the darkness disappeared. There was nothing left except the prone body of the little girl before them.
“It doesn’t hurt now,” Delphini whispered, a soft expression on her face. She looked more like a child now, color returning to her face, no more black veins.
“I can fix this, I can fix this,” Hermione rambled. With trembling fingers, she tried once more to heal the wound on the girl’s chest, tried to save her. But the wound remained open, blood continuing to flow and stain her dress.
“It’s not working,” Draco said, eyes perplexed.
“ No, no, no .” Hermione’s voice was desperate. She held the child tight in her arms.
“Her body is too weak,” Theo exhaled as he attempted his own spells. “There’s clear signs of experimentation on her already… it’s too much.”
“Hermione,” Draco said gently, stopping her from frantically attempting spell after spell.
“She can’t — I promised — ”
Draco’s lips were moving and Delphini relaxed. Hermione realized he was muttering a numbing spell.
Hermione sagged in defeat.
“Shh it’s going to be okay,” she whispered. She thought she saw Delphini smile, slightly lopsided just like Harry’s.
There was nothing she could do except hold her close. Scorpius’ favorite lullaby flowed from her lips until the small body in her arms went limp.
“She’s at peace now,” Theo said solemnly, coming to the other side of Delphini and gently shutting her eyes. She looked relaxed as if she were asleep. “The shard would have killed her in the end.”
His words didn’t stop the tears falling down Hermione’s face. She was just a child.
“We had no choice,” Draco whispered.
Hermione sniffed, her heart hardening. She knew he was right. She knew that Delphini would have continued to live in pain until she became the Dark Lord’s new vessel. And though in some way they were able to end the child’s pain and destroy the final horcrux, Hermione couldn’t suppress the gnawing pain growing inside of her. In the end, everyone lost in war — she already knew this. But she had had enough.
Carefully she carried the girl to bed, tucking her in.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Your father would have loved you so much and never hurt you. Maybe you’ll meet him now.”
After whispering her last words, she pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead.
Her face was blank and cold when she turned back to them, voice edged with a firm resolve. “Let’s finish this.”
***
When Draco, Hermione, and Theo exited the Riddle manor, the war was in full chaos. They had sent patronuses to Ginny and Kingsley that the horcruxes were gone and it seemed that the main battle found their way to the Riddle manor.
This was it, the final battle.
“Hello.” Draco and Hermione jumped when Luna showed up by their side.
“You alright?” Draco watched in passive amusement as Theo scanned Luna, his hands checking her face and arms.
“Why, yes, Theodore,” she smiled. “The allies and the rest of the Order had the upper hand on the battlefield and so the Dark Lord’s forces fled back here. But the Order followed them.”
Everything converged here. The allies and Order members along with the werewolves and the serpent humanoid creatures under Voldemort’s control. But the Order seemed to be holding ground. In the middle of the fray, they spotted Ginny and Ron dueling Greyback.
Before Hermione could jump into battle, Draco grabbed her, his free hand cupping her jaw and pressing his lips fiercely to hers.
“Be careful,” he whispered, his eyes ablaze and intense. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she breathed, pushing their foreheads together. Then she was gone.
It felt like hours as Draco fought alongside the Order. But they battled on, never faltering as they took down every Death Eater and creature left standing.
“Malfoy,” Ron panted as they ended up back to back against three werewolves.
“Weasley,” Draco replied in acknowledgement, blasting back the werewolves without hesitation. “Watch out!”
Just in time, Draco froze a werewolf mid-leap before it reached the red-head.
“ Shit , thanks,” Ron said, white faced.
As they continued fighting, Draco found himself surprised that Ron wasn’t the fumbling oaf he expected — the war had refined his gangly awkwardness, hardening him into an acceptable dualist. He lacked grace, but he was relentless and Draco begrudgingly respected him for it.
“Not bad, Malfoy,” Ron rasped as he surveyed the stunned werewolves around them.
Draco nodded sharply, his focus narrowed in on another pack of werewolves in the near distance. Weasley made to raise his wand but Draco stopped him.
“Wait,” he said. They watched as another pack of werewolves appeared and clashed with them in a gruesome battle. “They must have been able to remove the hold on some of the werewolves and now they're fighting with us.”
True enough, the freed werewolves fought side by side with the Order, capturing wolves still under the Dark Lord’s control by rendering them unconscious.
“Ron! Malfoy!” Ginny said, panting as she reached them. “Have you seen Hermione? I spotted Bellatrix and the Dark Lord — they seemed to be looking for her.”
Draco cursed, trying to keep his panic at bay. He should be with her. He was her partner.
“He knows we got the horcruxes.” Draco, along with the Weasleys, cut a path back to the mansion as they saw it rumble with angry magic.
Inside, they followed the trail of mutilated bodies — a clear sign of Bellatrix. They made their way towards a grand drawing room, guards up and ready. Once they reached the room, there in the middle, lying prone on the ground was Hermione. Bellatrix’s wand was raised, a desperate fury in her eyes. And behind her, face more hollow than ever, was Voldemort.
Ginny grabbed Draco’s arms before he could go after Hermione. He knew he needed to be calm — she was alive, she had to be. He could feel himself shaking, his magic clawing desperately to release itself, to wreak havoc. But Ginny hissed in warning.
Ginny signaled for him and Ron to stay back before she entered the room.
“Voldemort.” Ginny’s voice was clear, unafraid. Voldemort smiled eerily at her.
“How dare you say his name, you filthy — ”
“Now, now Bellatrix.” His words were laced with amusement but underneath it Draco could feel a foreboding anticipation. “Tell me, Ginevra Weasley, what is it like looking at your lover’s face? The great Harry Potter, the world’s hope, now the face of its end.”
“Harry is dead,” Ron spat before Draco could stop him. “You may wear his face, but the memory of Harry will live. He will always be loved and remembered for his bravery, for his goodness, for his — ”
At this Voldemort laughed, a raspy sound that felt like nails against their spines.
“There was so much darkness in Harry Potter,” he said, still smiling “You don’t know how easy it was to invade his mind. So much anger and pain festered inside of him — from how his muggle family treated him, his desperate faith in Dumbledore who kept him in the dark, his loneliness. You fight for this world,” he spat, “this world where wizards go into hiding because of muggles . His anger was a product of being raised in the muggle world where our kind are shunned even as their natural superiors. Harry Potter’s death falls not on me, oh no — it is the fault of those who made him believe in goodness, in sacrifice, in being a martyr. For the greater good .”
His words echoed through the room with a terrifying clarity, a truthfulness that even Draco could not deny. Hermione stirred.
“The Chosen One,” he laughed. “The world does not work like fairy tales. The Order says they work on the side of goodness yet they manipulate a child so that he may one day lay himself at the altar to sacrifice himself. It was predictable. Tell me what makes Dumbledore so different from the rest of us.”
“You’re right,” Ginny said, tears staining her face, “Dumbledore failed Harry — many of this did in so many ways by turning a blind eye to what was really going on with him back home, filling him with too much hope and asking so much of him. But I refuse to let his sacrifice be in vain. Our world can be better than this. This has to end. And I will make sure of it.”
Without warning, Ginny launched herself at Voldemort and attacked. Ron joined her. At the same time, Hermione leapt to her feet, blasting a curse at Bellatrix who only had enough time to block it. Draco ran in her direction.
“I know what you did,” Hermione spat, tears in her eyes. “Your own daughter? How could you?”
Bellatrix’s eyes widened before contorting into fury. “What have you done?”
Hermione’s hand tightened around her wand. “She was in pain and we tried to save her once we got rid of the horcrux but it was too late.”
“You mudblood bitch ,” Bellatrix snarled. Her face contorted in clear agony, her breathing ragged. And despite all she had done, Hermione couldn’t help but feel an ounce of sympathy for the woman who lost her daughter. “You will die for this.”
Bellatrix didn’t waste time and attacked her. Hermione would have been caught off guard, especially with an injury on her left rib if Draco hadn’t immediately blocked off the spell once he reached her side.
Together, Draco and Hermione fired spell after spell, in sync with their own magic. He could feel her magic calling out to him, weaving in tandem as they backed his aunt into a corner. Bellatrix’s movements were reckless and uncontrolled, fuelled by pure rage that made it easier for them to overpower her. Bellatrix’s eyes widened, seeming to only then realize what she was up against. But something seemed to crack inside of her — break . She bared her teeth and aimed every ounce of her magic at them blindly.
“Come on, nephew,” Bellatrix hissed, “does your runt of a son know who you really are? You’ve got the instinct of a Black. Some of our relatives had a taste for mudblood flesh too — liked them unwilling and bent over like whores.”
With a growl, Draco shot a spell that wrapped around her neck, suffocating her. The witch grinned even as blood ran down her nose. Bellatrix licked the blood that reached her lips. Madness — pure madness — along with desperation and pain roared in her eyes. She was gone, Hermione knew it.
Hermione diasarmed her and raised her own wand at the witch.
“Are you going to kill me like you did my daughter, mudblood ?” Bellatrix rasped when Draco relaxed his grip on her slightly.
“We never wanted this. We tried to save her, but she had already gone through so much.” Hermione’s jaw clenched. “And no I won’t kill you — living is more of a punishment. You will stand for your crimes and I will make sure you get what you deserve.”
To their surprise, Bellatrix laughed, a blood curdling cackle. Suddenly, she flicked her wrist, a blade glinting in her palm. Before they could react, Bellatrix plunged the dagger straight into her own heart.
“I win,” Bellatrix choked out before falling to the ground.
Hermione released a tense breath and stood over the witch whom many had feared, who had caused so much damage and suffering. Now, all that darkness, all she had done and lost had finally caught up to her. Perhaps, deep down in some fucked up way, Bellatrix loved her daughter in some capacity. But even that wasn’t enough to bring her back from the path she had chosen for herself.
“Come on,” Draco whispered, taking her hand as they went to help the Weasleys.
“Ron!” Hermione yelled as they came across the red-head sprawled on the floor. Ginny and Voldemort continued to duel.
“I’m alright,” he groaned. Draco helped him into sitting position as Hermione reknit his flesh, healing the gash on his stomach.
Her focus was distracted when Ginny sailed across the room.
“Hermione, it's time.”
“Draco — ”
Before she could stop him, Draco went after Voldemort. Ron was still losing blood and Ginny was unconscious — she couldn't go after him.
“ Glacio !”
“ Gehenna! ”
Both spells met, ice and hellfire setting the room ablaze in vivid colors of blue and orange. Both wizards were relentless, meeting each other on the offensive.
“Draco Malfoy has come to die?” Voldemort smiled coldly before slashing his wand in an arc.
Draco gritted his teeth, dodging the spell before sending one of his own.
A powerful blast of wind knocked Voldemort off his balance which was followed by shards of glass aimed directly at him.
Voldemort’s eyes widened fractionally before his face contorted in vexation. With precise movements, he disintegrated the glass into crushed powder. But Draco didn’t back down. Just as a spell left Draco’s lips, their wands met. Their power collided, pushing back at each other relentlessly.
“The thing that makes you weak, all of you , is your attachments,” Voldemort began, his power surging as he pushed Draco back. “Your love and attachment will be your undoing.”
Voldemort glanced at Hermione and Draco’s eyes widened. The connection broke as Voldemort moved swiftly and pointed his wand directly at Hermione. A spell formed on his lips but Draco was there immediately, shielding her.
The spell hit him in his chest, a rippling curse that forced Draco on his knees.
“Draco — ” Hermione tried to run to him, but Voldemort cast her aside.
“So predictable.” Voldemort sneered at him from above. The black veins on his face pulsed, spreading further as his crimson eyes glowed. There was nothing human about him. He wreaked of dark magic, his body and soul corrupted by it.
Draco spat blood from his mouth then lifted his head and smiled like a remorseless angel cast out of heaven. “Do your worst.”
“ Avada Kedavra !”
Time slowed as Hermione watched helplessly out of reach. Draco turned to her and their eyes locked. Eternity existed in that single look, in that split second between one breath and the next. His eyes were soft, unafraid — conveying all he meant to say. She held his gaze as long as she could before the light of the spell blinded her. There was an ear splitting noise. Her ears rang even when the light receded. But the only thing racing through her mind was Draco.
Somehow she made it to his side. His body was lifeless on the ground.
“ No, ” her voice broke, hands trembling above his body.
Everything crashed into her in that moment: his eyes alight with mirth when she emerged from her research in a tousled state, their conversations before falling asleep, his hand — now cold — warm and steady in hers. Memories of vows, of meals with Scorpius, the sound of his voice. The reverent look in his eyes when he touched her and the silent comfort of his presence. She thought of the life they had together — the life they dreamed of having together in the future.
“Have you ever thought about having more kids?” she asked quietly so as not to wake the sleeping boy between them. Perhaps it was the late hour or the steady light of the full moon but she found the courage to speak the question that had been lurking in her mind.
He stilled, his face turning hesitant but he responded before she could retract her question.
“I’ve thought of what it would be like to have a daughter… with you.”
His eyes flickered to hers and Hermione’s breath stuttered at his confession.
Now his flesh was cold in her hands. His eyes were shut, face serene and quiet.
“Please,” she sobbed, her hands cupping his face gently. Blood dripped from his mouth, stark against his pale skin. “ Please , I love you, I love you. Wake up.”
She held him tightly, shielding his body, refusing to let go. They were supposed to have more time, they just wanted more time —
“He’s dead — ” vaguely, she recognized the voice as Ron’s but her eyes were only on Draco as she wiped the blood on his face with shaky fingers, “ — Voldemort is dead.”
Hermione’s world stopped. Out of the numbness, she felt a warm flutter through their bond, weak but alive. His hand in hers curled in response just as his eyes fluttered open, searching for hers.
“It worked,” he murmured. A sob wrenched through her body before she threw herself at him.
Hermione dipped her forehead to his. His blood slick hair pressed against her skin but she didn’t care. Gently she pressed a kiss to his lips and he relaxed, thawing under her touch.
“I love you,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.
He brushed his nose against hers. “And I, you — in this life and in the next.”
After healing what she could of his wounds, Hermione helped him sit up.
“I don’t understand,” Ron murmured, perplexed. “We saw him hit you with the curse but he’s the one that’s dead.”
Across from them, Ginny stood over a body. Her mouth was parted in disbelief before she dropped to her knees.
Voldemort is dead .
Shifting slightly, Draco leaned against Hermione’s side. His head rested on hers as his eyes shut. “I’m the master of the Elder Wand,” Draco murmured
Ron stuttered. “How?”
Ron’s eyes were blown wide. His face was dusted in dirt and blood as he waited for their explanation.
“What did you want to show me?” Hermione asked once they entered Kingsley’s study. Draco immediately retrieved the pensieve. He was lost in thought, his face illuminated only by the pale blue light dancing across his face.
“What do you know of wand magic and the Elder Wand?”
“To gain the Elder wand’s allegiance, it has been thought that doing so necessitates killing its master,” Hermione began. “When Snape killed Dumbledore, Voldemort thought this made Snape master of the wand. Hence he killed Snape thinking it would finally make him the wand’s true master. But in the Astronomy Tower, it was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore. Then when we were captured at Malfoy Manor, Harry disarmed Draco so its allegiance went to Harry. We confirmed the lore with a specialist Draco reached out to but of course, information on this is limited.”
“But — but Harry died because of that wand — ”
“In a way he did and didn’t,” Hermione continued. “A part of Harry technically lived — his body and the horcrux inside of him. As its master, the wand should not have killed Harry. We can only theorize that the Elder Wand got confused. When Harry walked into the forest, it must have not been able to distinguish Harry’s soul and the shard of Voldemort’s soul in his body. But its loyalty was to Harry, never Voldemort and it accidentally killed its true master.”
“Wouldn’t that still make Voldemort the master?”
“It was possible,” Draco replied. “But in the clearing, when Voldemort and I dueled, our wands met as they did today. It felt different — the Elder Wand is the unbeatable wand and somehow we were able to duel like that. I could feel him struggling. And that’s when I suspected something and told Hermione.”
“We think the wand must have recognized its mistake and refused Voldemort, thus returning its allegiance to the master before Harry — Draco.” Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand, unconsciously making sure he was still there, still alive . She couldn't believe it worked.
“Someone told me that magic works in its own ways, it chooses its wielder and always follows nature’s balance — it cannot be taken or forced. Magic always finds a way,” Draco repeated Senia’s words.
Ron shook his head in disbelief.
“I — I think it’s possible,” Hermione rambled, pacing in front of him. “When the Dark Lord killed Harry’s soul with the Elder Wand, it must have gotten confused and attacked blindly, killing the part that was Harry’s soul when it thought it was another’s. And the way Ollivander talks about wands, they’re almost sentient. The Elder Wand never attacks its true master, so it’s possible the Dark Lord didn’t properly win its allegiance.”
Hermione froze in her tracks, her brown eyes wide as she stared at him.
“Draco, that would mean — ”
“We had limited time and knowledge,” Hermione spoke. “It was a risk but we knew it was possible that the killing curse could rebound since the Elder Wand would not hurt its true master. We had the chance to finally end this by tricking him into attacking Draco.”
The three glanced at the body across from them — lifeless. In the end, Voldemort was just a mortal man.
“Voldemort thought our attachment to each other was a weakness, but it was our greatest strength. I didn’t like the plan, it was too risky despite all our research,” Draco smirked at Hermione’s words but remained silent. He grazed his lips on her temple. “But we knew it could be a last resort and our only chance to end him.”
There were other kinds of power, kinds Voldemort did not understand. His hunger for immortality and endless power was ultimately his undoing. He defied nature, sought power ruthlessly thinking it would make him unstoppable and invincible. But it was what killed him in the end.
Ash floated like snowflakes around the space. The room was silent even as Order members entered. Hermione caught Kingsley’s face and he nodded at her. They won. It was over.
With Ron’s help, Hermione aided Draco in standing. Together, they approached Ginny and the fallen body.
Hermione gasped. Green eyes stared back at them and Ron fell to his knees beside his sister, his face twisting in agony. Before them was the face of Harry Potter, unmarked, no trace of Voldemort. The veins were gone from his face, his scar once again red and his eyes a brilliant green. But he was still dead.
“He looks so peaceful,” Hermione whispered as she stared at Harry. Grief came to her in new waves, but it was different this time. His body was at rest now, he was at peace. Draco pressed a kiss to her head and she leaned into him.
“It’s over,” Ron said, eyes bloodshot but mustering a smile as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder.
Ginny leaned over and kissed Harry on the forehead before gently shutting his eyes.
“I love you,” she whispered, a watery smile on her face as she caressed his cheek.
Bending over, Hermione took the Elder Wand and handed it to Draco.
Draco accepted it, his fingers running over the ivory base before snapping it in half.
Ron startled. “Why did you do that? It could have been yours.”
“Power,” he replied. “My father ruined himself in pursuit of it as did the Dark Lord. But I’ve learned something — wanting power simultaneously makes you a slave to it. True power belongs to those who don’t need to seek it. Because it's already in them — and no one can take that way unless they let it.”
Hermione looked stunned by his words but her eyes immediately softened in quiet understanding.
“A certain witch showed me that nothing — even blood status or family name — can truly bring you power. Only you can do that yourself,” he murmured, entwining their hands together.
“Must be an intelligent witch.” Hermione raised an amused brow.
Draco hummed in response.
“Devastatingly terrifying too.” His lips twitched when she hit his arm. “And beautiful and magnificent…”
Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco dipped his head and she felt his smile against her cheek.
“Malfoy’s right, no one should have that kind of power,” Ginny voiced. “Harry would have done the same.”
Hermione and Ron shared a look and found something they hadn’t in a while — understanding.
“He would,” Ron replied. He took Draco and Hermione by surprise when he gave each of them a look of gratitude. There was something light about him, as if something had lifted off his shoulders.
The sun spilled through the windows, bathing the grey room in amber light. Draco shut his eyes, savoring the warmth of the witch in his arms and the steady beat of his heart.
It was finally over.
Notes:
A/N: Ahhhh!!!!! Here we are!! I didn’t expect to get this finished today but I guess I just wanted to push through for this last sprint to the end. HEA was in the tags so I guess some of you knew that Draco wasn’t actually dead but I hope at least that the reason he survived was interesting.
It was definitely difficult finally tying things together in terms of the plot. I actually had a bunch of different endings for this, but in the end, when I watched the last Harry Potter movie again, it felt right to parallel the canon ending especially when it fit in well with the whole premise. It also struck me that I hadn’t seen anyone play around with the fact that Draco was at some point master of the Elder Wand and it fit perfectly with the plot. With Delphini, I saw some of you thinking she would be a part of the family and I’m so sorry to kill another person :( I didn’t want to do that to Delphini but things don’t go perfectly in war and you have to make hard decisions.
The epilogue is very short so I should be able to get it out in a day or so actually! Will do the proper thank yous and goodbyes then! Also, I’m on instagram @cz_bl if you want memes and/or just want to connect! I just posted this lovely commission of Draco on Sirius Black’s motorcycle by alienescense from Chapter VII if you want to check it out!
Chapter 43: Epilogue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“And I seem to have such strength in me now,
that I think I could stand anything, any suffering,
only to be able to say and to repeat to myself
every moment, ‘I exist.’
In thousands of agonies - I exist.
I'm tormented on the rack - but I exist!
Though I sit alone on a pillar - I exist!
I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there.
And there's a whole life in that,
in knowing that the sun is there.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The backyard of the safehouse was filled with an odd mix of Weasleys and Slytherins including Luna as Scorpius hoarded everyone’s attention. It had been a month since the end of the war and, slowly, they had begun rebuilding the wizarding community. It had come as a surprise to Draco when the safehouse they had spent most of their time in was given to them. Malfoy Manor was still reduced to rubble and Draco had no interest in living there. He had other properties but it would be a while before his assets were released, a significant portion of which he pledged for war reparations. He had a long way to go in undoing his damage his family had done, but he would own it step by step. Fortunately, for their efforts, Kingsley, as interim Minister, had gifted them the property. It was small and located remotely in the English countryside, but to Draco it was home.
“Nice glasses,” Blaise snorted, earning a glare from Draco.
“Hermione likes them,” Draco said coolly just as the aforementioned witch wrapped her arms around him from behind and laughed. “You do, right?”
Hermione moved to his side and her grin widened at the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
“Yes I do,” she replied, kissing his cheek. “You look quite the academic in them.”
Blaise scoffed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like swots under his breath. Pansy joined them moments later with a drink and a brow raised.
“There you are.” Blaise’s eyes warmed as he put an arm around his wife. Pansy returned his smile and attached herself to his side.
“How are the children doing?” Hermione inquired.
“For most of them, we were able to find their parents or family members,” Pansy began, “but the rest have been left orphans.”
Draco frowned.
“We’re already talking with Kingsley about converting one of our properties into an orphanage and supporting them even up until they graduate from Hogwarts so they always have a home to come back to until the end,” Blaise added.
“That’s wonderful!” Hermione grinned, her mind already turning with ideas to support the children through their post-war trauma and even perhaps starting a special pre-Hogwarts preparation program. She was saved from her thoughts by a light squeeze on her shoulder and amused silver eyes watching her.
“I’m sure we can use your ideas and in fact, the Weasleys have already volunteered to help,” Blaise said, taking her by surprise. Hermione did not forget their last conversation with Voldemort about Harry. Perhaps, this was Ginny and Ron’s way of healing, of moving forward. It was a start.
“Should we be encouraging this?” Hermione frowned worriedly as Scorpius showed off his “tricks” on his baby broom to the Weasleys who were praising him.
It had been a surprise to Hermione and Draco when Ginny and Ron began making efforts to warm up to Scorpius, even going as far as to win him over with a toy wand. Scorpius waved the wand in the air as George pretended to get struck by him in a dramatic fashion.
Draco chuckled into her hair.
“Us Malfoys are quite adept on a broom.”
Hermione sighed. “Why anyone would enjoy riding a broom, I have no idea.”
“You seem to enjoy other forms of riding as I recall from last night.”
Pansy smirked. “Must be a special kind of broom, Granger.”
“The Malfoy kind,” Blaise snickered.
Draco let out a laugh at the strangled sound she made and the blush that graced her features. After indulging in more conversation at Hermione’s expense, Pansy and Blaise joined Theo and Luna who were sitting on the grass not far from them. Luna was rambling about something that lit up her features as Theo gave her his full attention. The dreamy expression belonged to Theo this time. Nobody missed their entwined hands.
Turning back to Scorpius, Hermione leaned against Draco’s chest. With a determined look on his face, Scorpius zoomed as fast as he was allowed to on his toy broom. Sunlight glinted off the gold chain around his neck — one he never took off. Sometimes Hermione caught him talking to the locket and opening it to stare at the drawing of him and Watson during moments he felt sad. On days it rained, Scorpius sat on the porch with a quiet look on his face as he clutched his locket tightly. Draco and Hermione would join him, letting Scorpius decide what comfort he needed that day — whether it was answers to his questions, hugs, or silent company.
“What is Watsy doing now?” His brows were pinched as he broke the silence.
They had found him sitting at the porch again, where no sound could be heard except for the soft patter of rain. His eyes were distant, face furrowed in deep thought.
Hermione cupped his cheek. “Hmm, maybe he’s taking a nap or watching you right now from up there. But do you remember what we told you before? Even if you can’t see him, you can feel him right? If you just close your eyes and remember all your funniest memories with him, it will be like he’s just here with you because he is.”
Scorpius smiled, looking down at the locket before placing it to his heart. Hermione shared a relieved look with Draco over Scorpius’ head.
“Would you like to draw together? I think Mini can use a few lessons to improve, don't you agree?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically before giggling at Hermione’s scowl. Draco smirked as he went off to get Scorpius’ art supplies.
Scorpius was not the only one who had moments of grief. Everyone was still mourning, burying the dead, and taking the first steps in moving on in this new world. Moody and a couple of other Order members had not survived the battle. Along with those who fell during the war, Hermione’s thoughts often returned to Watson, Delphini, and Harry. The grief overwhelmed her sometimes and held her down. But she was not alone. Looking around her, at the new and old people in her life, she reminded herself that she could always ask for help.
And help was something that was in high demand after the war. To Draco’s surprise, Kingsley had not only asked her but him to help rebuild the ministry and society they fought for. They had a long way to go with the wizarding community as it was not simply an issue of rebuilding it. It would take time to heal and create a new system that would uphold the fundamental values governing their society. They had to acknowledge that Voldemort and those who followed him were born out of the ignorance and fears about the muggle world and that these prejudices were allowed to grow through the corrupted systems in place. Villains weren’t born evil, they were a product of society. And to prevent another Dark Lord in the future, they had to look at themselves firstly and their role in the war.
Pansy and Hermione had also made good on their promise to return to the brothel and free the workers there. Currently, they were helping them find a place in the new world purely of their own choice, even going as far as to begin planning an educational program for them that Bridgette herself had proposed. Some stayed in the brothel but many left, choosing to help the Ministry as informants on Voldemort’s supporters having amassed information over the years through their work. Many Death Eaters and loyalists had fled, but those who had remained careful and quiet of their beliefs remained in the very system itself. Hence, their help was vital in the Ministry’s efforts to root out the existing prejudices and break the barriers for real change.
“What’s on your mind?” Despite his question, Draco had a knowing look on his face.
“Just making a list of things to fix up, to make this place a real home,” Hermione replied. Draco searched her eyes before relaxing, seemingly satisfied with whatever he found.
“Home,” Draco murmured, testing the word as if it was new on his tongue and he was getting used to the taste of it. He wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you by the way for bringing the rose bushes here.”
It had been her surprise that morning. With Luna’s help, she had been able to transport the rose bushes Scorpius and Draco had planted in the other safehouse they had stayed at in the French countryside. It had grown and flourished despite their absence. Out of curiosity, Hermione had run a diagnostic charm on it and found a trace of magic confirming her suspicions that it must have had a little help from someone.
“I have one more surprise.”
Draco looked at her curiously but said nothing as she entwined their hands together and pulled him inside the house.
“What — ”
Draco stopped mid-speech at the sight of a piano inside the library. .
“When we decided we wanted this safehouse instead of the one in France, I thought it would be a waste not to have the piano,” she began rambling nervously. “I know it’s not the newest kind and probably needs a bit of tuning but Kings said I could take it — ”
Hermione’s rambling was cut off when Draco pulled her into a searing kiss. She relaxed, winding her arms around his neck.
“I love it,” he said breathlessly against her lips.
“Can you play something?” she asked. The corners of his lips lifted.
“I may have been working on a small piece that I could never quite finish.” There was a raw intensity in his eyes as he stared at her. “But I think I know now.”
Tugging her beside him on the bench, his hands lifted towards the keys. The melody began slowly and her eyes widened in recognition. It was the same notes she had heard when she first caught him playing, the same melody that wove through her when she was in and out of consciousness during her recovery after Draco and the Slytherins had rescued her.
Draco’s fingers danced along the keys, starting slow and heavy, cold and almost disjointed. She understood it now — it spoke of pain and sadness, of confusion and darkness. It was defensive, almost lashing out — afraid.
Then it started to change, unfolding almost tentatively into a sweeter harmony. The music started to swell as if in flight, higher and higher. It spoke of a simple kind of joy, a new beginning — and hope. And this time it didn’t stop. It kept going — strongly this time, more sure, more determined. It was his story — theirs . It was about loss. And love. Forgiving and understanding. Hermione felt a single tear slide down her face as the music rose into a crescendo.
“Mama? Daddy?” Scorpius’ head poked into the room.
Hermione opened her arms. “We’re right here, love.”
Scorpius grinned and immediately ran into her arms. She scooped him up onto her lap and rested her chin on his head. In quiet wonder, they listened to Draco play. Scorpius unconsciously held on to his locket, also mesmerized by the melody.
Draco glanced at them and smiled softly before turning back to the keys. The melody soared higher until it simmered into its denouement. The song resounded around them, within them — a reminder of what they had gone through and what they had found in each other and in themselves. Even as Draco struck the last chords, the song echoed forever — a refusal to die, a promise to live on. In it was the promise of something more — of new beginnings and a life they owed themselves to keep fighting for.
Notes:
A/N: We made it! Wow — firstly I’d like to thank everyone who has taken a chance on me and my first fic. It has been almost exactly a year since I first began drafting this story. I would not have been able to push myself and complete it without all your love and support. Some of you have been there since the beginning and encouraged me in every single update — I don’t usually have time to reply to all your comments but I read every single one of them and it has helped me in more ways than you can imagine.
This fic was definitely challenging and I have learned a lot throughout the process. It was definitely quite emotional and personal as this story and its characters are in some way a manifestation of the things that go through me each day that cannot be expressed so easily. I still have a long way to go as a writer and this is definitely not the end for me but I do need a break for a while hahaha
As for TOoS, some of you may have expected more for this epilogue and I’ll admit that even before I started drafting, I had some short bonus pieces in mind about small glimpses of life after the war and even some written from a different perspective of certain events during the story. But I can’t make any promises now as life is about to get a bit hectic for me, though I won’t bin those ideas. This little family means so much to me and I hope some of you were able to get something out of this story whether it was a sense of comfort, distraction, relief, or understanding. Thank you all again. If you want to keep updated or just want to connect, I’m on instagram @cz_bl!
Yours,
bl
Chapter 44: [BONUS STORY] Draco & the Observer
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“To have spent my life holding my hands in tightly hidden fists.
To try to understand what it would mean, now, to hold them open.
I have always felt ashamed at being witnessed in the act of wanting something I could not have.”
— Jennifer S. Cheng
“ Homenum Revelio ,” Draco whispered into the darkness, wand raised as he peered into the darkness. His other arm covered Hermione with Scorpius curled to her chest. His eyes narrowed despite the spell coming back empty, swearing he had seen a pair of eyes watching them. The shadows took shape as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, outlining their bedroom. They were alone. They were safe.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione mumbled sleepily and blinked up at him. Scorpius remained snoring, softly burrowed into her chest.
Draco scanned the darkness once more and upon being satisfied with his inspection, dropped his wand. Tension released from his body as he curled around the two, giving in to the inviting warmth. “I thought I saw something watching us,” he replied quietly.
Hermione chuckled and Draco frowned. “I didn’t sense the wards — we’re fine,” she assured him, brushing her fingers over his cheeks.
Wrapping his arms around them tightly, Draco remained silent as he ignored the lingering sensation of eyes watching him.
***
The subtle feeling of being watched didn’t leave Draco. He felt it over his shoulder when he read in their home library, when he was giving Scorpius a bath or helping Hermione bake cookies — he couldn’t help but feel that something was observing his every move.
“Look, daddy!” Scorpius tugged on his hand urgently as they walked through the small village not far from the home they occupied. It had been almost a year since they defeated Voldemort — repairs continued on in the wizarding world but they had decided to keep their home in the countryside.
“Oh,” Hermione exhaled, rushing over to a litter of puppies. Scorpius squirmed out of his grip and ran over to where Hermione crouched over the pen.
Draco sighed, crossing his arms as the two cooed over the jumping pups that wagged their tails in excitement. Scorpius took after his mama — he loved animals, always listening to Hermione when she spoke of the different species and nodding as if he understood her whenever she went off tangent and began passionately speaking about animal and magical creature rights. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy was sorted into Gryffindor — had accepted it even. Even Blaise had jested that Scorpius would likely get into trouble in Hogwarts for starting some riot on magical animal and creature rights like some bushy haired witch back in their time.
“Can we take him home, daddy?”
Draco scowled at the tiny furry puppy held up to his face by Hermione. Scorpius fidgeted below him, struggling to keep three puppies situated in his arms. Draco winced when the pup licked his nose, the smell of wet dog clinging to him.
“No,” Draco said steadily, clenching his jaw when the two looked up at him with round eyes. Damnit .
Draco let out a deep breath “We already discussed this, you two,” he muttered as he took the puppies from them and proceeded to return them to their pen. Hermione and Scorpius trailed behind him. “You know we don’t have the space and time to take care of a pet. It takes a lot of work and responsibility.”
He knew Granger was an animal person — he still remembered that furry caterpillar of a beast she used to take around Hogwarts. There were times when he caught that kneazle-cat thing taking up his spot in the library or lurking among the bookshelves. But having a pet was too much responsibility. Animals had a short lifespan — they were fragile and likely subjected to ailments and injuries. He knew it would be too much for Hermione and Scorpius should the pet get sick or die. He did not think their little family was ready after everything they had lost and gone through.
“But look at them!” Hermione grinned at him brightly, wrapping her hand around his. She gave it a squeeze, her eyes softening as if reading his thoughts. He squeezed back.
“Maybe next time…” he mumbled.
They continued on their day running errands off their list. The town bustled, not one person paying attention to them. They had visited Diagon Alley after the war and it was clear that the wizarding world had a long way to go in its recovery. Although the wizarding community had heard of Draco Malfoy’s switching sides and his role in ending the war, he and his son were met with sneers and threats. Scorpius had buried his head in his chest as Hermione glared at anyone who looked at them wrongly, wand ready in her grip as she boldly cut a path through the streets with Draco’s hand in hers. In this village they were just a normal family.
The end of their trip to the town brought them towards a destination they never failed to skip. The H. Granger library. Six months after the battle, they had released the Malfoy funds. Draco had more than enough for his family and had immediately deployed the funds for war repairs and loaned his properties for those still without a home. But he had set aside funds too for something personal — for her.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Draco watched as her eyes fluttered open and blinked rapidly in clear surprise.
“The H. Granger library?” she squeaked. Her eyes shone, drawing him in. Sometimes she would ask why he was always up so early — he would lie, saying he liked to watch the sun rise. But really it was to see her fluttering eyes search for him when she woke and soften upon finding him. The same eyes that liked to watch him under heavy lids when he coaxed moans from her mouth. The eyes, once dull, now bright and burning. He would do whatever it took to keep the fire in them.
“I was considering Dolores as the name…” Draco grinned when Hermione thwacked the back of his head.
Turning towards him, mouth agape, a million things ran through that overworked mind of hers. “Draco…”
“No need for words, Hermione.” The witch’s brows furrowed in determination even as she stepped closer. Draco’s hands found her waist, his thumbs brushing her sides. His lips twitched when she shivered under his touch.
“It’s too much, Draco. I – “
Draco rolled his eyes before pressing his lips to hers. “I wanted to do it. This library is for you and open to the village.” It was filled with books from his family’s collections (only accessible to her) and muggle editions he spent months researching and procuring.
She cupped his cheek in one hand. “Thank you,” she breathed. He twisted his head and pressed a kiss to her palm.
The library was filled with people. Draco followed behind Hermione and Scorpius who, hand in hand, went through rows of books to have their picks of the week. He whispered a feather-light charm as Hermione continued to pile books onto her arms, too distracted with the selections to remember casting a charm. Scorpius, her little assistant, led the way through the shelves with his brows furrowed and a hand on his chin as he inspected the books by pretending to read the spines.
Sunlight filtered in through the panes of the high windows, its deep vermillion signalling the approaching sunset. It was time to head home.
They finished selecting their books, including a couple of muggle texts Draco chose, and headed home. Upon entering the safehouse-turned-Malfoy-Granger house, Draco inhaled the scent of cedar and books coupled with a hint of fresh flowers. Home .
His eyes glanced over the organised mess of books, parchment, and toys. It was nothing like the cold halls of the manor — he liked it. He liked the simple design and large windows that brought in light. Each room held memories and the remnants of something personal — his spectacles on the desk, Scorpius’ little plant on the windowsill, Hermione’s lists and parchment, his potioning bottles. He was happy here.
But not all days were easy. Some days the loss of his mother weighed stronger on him, often when he instinctively turned to look at her when he played her favourite piece on the piano. He often found himself in front of the keys during those days. He could almost feel his mothers presence by his side, hear her fingers drifting over the companion melody. And sometimes he imagined his father — an odd image in the small house, but also there standing quietly, listening to them.
He was not alone in having those moments of grief — Hermione had her own burdens. They were never able to recover her parents' memories and Harry and Delphini’s death hung over her. She was quiet for a while but began to speak in her own time. She began to speak to Draco and Scorpius — to tell her stories from her past. They listened when she spoke of her childhood and her friends, her parents. Her eyes glistened with pain but over time it began to lessen as she found it easier to smile over a fond memory she had recalled. I want to remember them this way , she had confessed to him one night. Draco and Scorpius were not alone in being there for her — he was happy to see her feel comfortable in being vulnerable with the Slytherins. Even if she didn’t admit it, her friendship with Pansy had grown even closer.
“Whoosh!”
Draco’s lips curved upwards when he caught Scorpius on the ground playing with his quidditch figurines. Blaise had gifted the set — when it had arrived, it was complete along with a Viktor Krum figurine. Draco had raised a brow at the moving replica of the Bulgarian player but what had been most surprising was Scorpius’ reaction. Even Hermione had been shocked when the boy sneered at the figurine. Since then, the figurine had suspiciously disappeared. Scorpius was a Malfoy after all.
“I’ll get dinner ready,” Hermione called, making her way to the kitchen.
“You rest. I got it — ”
“I feel fine. A little help would be nice though.” Hermione smiled at him gratefully, continuing towards the kitchen. She had been tired lately — overworked. The witch was constantly on some project or pulled for attention from whoever needed her help. She had even come down with a stomach bug a week prior. Since then, he watched her carefully, making sure she didn’t exert herself.
Draco followed after her but paused upon catching a stray piece of grey hair on one of the books. He frowned as he entered the kitchen, Hermione already waving her wand to organise the ingredients.
“What’s that?” she inquired as he rolled the strand beneath his fingertips. It caught the light like silver floss.
“A grey piece of hair.”
“Looks like someone’s getting old,” Hermione snickered.
Draco lifted a sardonic brow. Sure, it could be his but he was certain he was not getting that old. Not yet anyways. Hermione tipped her head back in a full laugh at his worried expression.
“If anything it's the stress but I’m certain it isn’t mine. We could – ”
Before he could finish his sentence, the strand disintegrated. Draco stared at the remaining ash briefly before vanishing it.
“Daddy's getting old!” Scorpius mimicked and giggled as he entered the kitchen.
Draco frowned, checking the mirror. He swore there was not a strand of grey hair on his head.
“I’m sure it was just one strand.” Draco went to retort but was cut off when she placed a kiss on his cheek. He shut his mouth and continued prepping the rest of the meal even as he scowled.
***
“He was feeling like a big boy tonight.” Hermione’s voice called out softly from where she was leaning in the doorway. Draco’s eyes remained on his sleeping son, lingering on the way the moonlight lightly touched his sleeping face. His face had grown in the months that passed — still retaining its softness, but now more boyish and lean. He was growing up. Draco reached out to brush a lock of hair on Scorpius’ head. The little boy’s fingers tightened around the locket Watson had given him. He had never taken it off and would often unconsciously seek it when he was having one of his sad days.
Draco’s hand dropped. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay. He usually comes to our room around this time.” They had built Scorpius his own room but he had always chosen to sleep between them — his “safe place” he had called it.
They didn’t pressure Scorpius to sleep in his own room — they had decided to let him get used to not needing them at night in his own time. Draco didn’t like to admit it but perhaps he still needed Scorpius. Throughout the war, Scorpius and he had been inseparable. Some nights he reached out to curl over his son and upon not finding him there, had instinctively summoned his wand, a spell already burning on his tongue.
Hermione’s arms wrapped around him from behind and he relaxed at the soft press of her lips on his bare shoulder. “He is fine. He will always be our baby.”
Despite the steadiness of her words, he could hear the wavering sentiment in her voice. She felt it too. Although he admired his son’s independence, he sometimes wondered if each moment was the last time Scorpius would let himself be held.
Draco remained silent, turning around in her arms and digging his face into her shoulder.
When he was ready, his wife entwined their hands and led him out the door. Draco looked over his shoulder at the sleeping boy. Outside, the stars glimmered playfully against a velvet of darkness. He paused.
“Is something wrong?”
“I thought…” Draco murmured, narrowing his eyes at the shadows, swearing he saw movement. “Nevermind.”
Hermione squeezed his hand and coaxed him back to their room.
***
Days passed and Draco’s paranoia of being watched did not subside — he constantly had his guard up, swearing there was a foreign presence in his own home. Everywhere he looked, he managed to find a grey strand of hair but Hermione typically brushed it off as likely his own.
Still pondering his dilemma, he had come home early from his meeting with Kingsley when his thoughts were stopped by noises coming from the library. He did not sense any problems with the wards nor any indication that there was danger yet he entered the room with caution.
He froze.
“What the — “
“ Meow. ”
Hermione and Scorpius looked up at him in pure shock, not expecting his arrival. And right in between them was the ugliest, fluffiest grey cat he had ever seen. Its face looked as if it had been smashed against a thick glass window and rendered permanently flat with a perpetual crooked growl on its face.
“ Meow .” Draco swore the thing gave him an assessing look, as if he was intruding into its home.
Draco’s eyes suddenly narrowed, recognizing the feeling of its piercing stare. It had been the same gaze he swore had been following him.
“We — we can explain?” Hermione winced.
“Yes, explain!” Scorpius jumped, clutching the grey-haired beast to his chest protectively — the thing was so large it was almost Scorpius’ size. “Mr. Snufflefluffykins Malfoy-Granger needs a family! He is good! Mama says he is a good kneazle-cat!”
Mr. Snufflefluffykins? What kind of name was that ?
“Hermione, Scorpius…” Draco exhaled and rubbed his forehead. “How long have you been hiding this thing ?”
He wasn’t being paranoid after all — the grey hair, the eyes following him…
Brown and silver eyes looked at him guiltily.
“We found him shivering in the rain during one of our trips to the forest and we’ve been keeping him for two weeks. We were going to tell you when you were ready to accept a new member of the family. He is completely obedient and low maintenance.”
“ Meow .”
Two weeks of making believe he was getting old and his paranoia was all in his head.
“Where did you keep him?
“My room!” responded, Scorpius. “He helps me sleep alone!”
It explained his son’s sudden courage to sleep alone in his room more consistently. The boy looked determined, an emotion shining in his pale eyes that Draco hated seeing. As he clutched the kneazle-cat closer, Scorpius looked scared. It was evident he was already attached to the animal and feared losing it.
“He is all alone, daddy! No family!” Scorpius’ eyes watered. The kneazle-cat lulled its head backwards and licked Scorpius’ cheek. Scorpius giggled and ruffled his cheek against the animal’s fur. Draco glanced at Hermione but she was looking at the two fondly. His face softened knowing defeat was upon him.
“I’m not sure we have enough space for another family member but maybe we can work it out,” Draco muttered, already reluctantly moving towards them. Reading the decision on his father’s face, Scorpius gasped, dropping the kneazle-cat and running into Draco’s arms when he knelt. The kneazle-cat ruffled its fur, leaving a trail of grey hair on the floor before inelegantly bounding on one of Scorpius’ figurines that suspiciously looked like the missing Viktor Krum figurine.
“We’ll figure it out.” Hermione joined them, Draco and Scorpius welcoming her into their arms.
“ Meow .” Draco flinched when the cat squeezed in between them, its fur tickling his chin uncomfortably. He lifted a hand and it hissed at him. Draco narrowed his eyes at the kneazle-cat in warning. Mr. Snufflefluffykins glowered back.
“Well…” Hermione mused, stroking the kneazle-cat who leaned into her palm. “I’m afraid we have to make even more space.”
“Hermione, surely one kneazle-cat …” Draco froze when he caught her nervously glancing at him with her hand resting on her stomach.
“I’m pregnant, Draco.”
Eyes wide with shock, Draco could do nothing except keep his mouth agape.
“Baby?” Scorpius chirped curiously and stared at Hermione’s abdomen with wide eyes.
“Yes,” she let out a shaky laugh. “There is a baby in here. You will be a big brother, love.”
“Big brother?” he echoed, tentatively approaching her and placing his little hand gently on her belly. Hermione enclosed her hand over his.
“How long?” Draco swallowed — the only words capable of leaving his mouth. A child . It explained her sudden exhaustion over the past few weeks.
Hermione fidgeted, avoiding his gaze. “I’m about seven weeks along but only found out two weeks ago — I wasn’t sure for a while and of course I did all the right checks — even Luna’s crazy methods! But I was worried that — “
Hermione was cut off when Draco pressed his mouth to hers. She melted under the softness of his lips, her nerves dissipating under the steadiness of his hand on her face and the other protectively over her stomach.
“Another child,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers with his eyes still shut. Fear suddenly coursed through him, for a moment reminded of Scorpius’ birth. Astoria. He opened his eyes in panic but was only met with Hermione’s steady gaze.
“It’s going to be okay, Draco,” she whispered. “We’ll figure it out together.”
He was not alone. They were partners — they would figure it out and learn together. “Alright.”
Suddenly, Draco hissed when the beast jumped on his shoulder, its claws digging into his skin. Draco made to push the thing off, but stopped when two sounds of laughter resonated in the room.
“Mr. Snufflefluffykins likes you!” Scorpius said excitedly.
Draco tried to maintain his stoic face but his lips twitched and he begrudgingly petted the animal on his shoulder.
“ Meow .” To his surprise, the kneazle-cat purred under his touch.
Hermione leaned her head on his other shoulder, her body releasing tension. Their small family was growing and despite all that had happened, he had to trust the man he had worked hard to become and would continue fighting to become for his family and for himself.
“I love you,” he whispered into her temple. She tilted her head upwards, grinning at him before softly returning the words back to him, this time against his lips. Scorpius threw himself at them and Mr. Snufflefluffykins jumped from Draco’s shoulder only to squeeze between them.
Home.
Notes:
Author’s note: Hi everyone! Long time no post 😅 as promised, here is a little something about our little family. I'm so excited to be back to writing now that I have time to work on some projects in the pipeline (not TOoS related but if you're interested, do stick around!). Thank you for all your support and giving my first fic a chance 🥺 it means so much to me. 💕
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