The third time's the charm.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, it would have been told from Draco's point of view and he would have ended up with Hermione. Obviously that isn't the case. Nor do I own Wicked.
The war has been over for about eleven years now, and Hermione has sat down to tell her son and her god-children about how her and Draco met. It all starts with a speech about the wicked doings of the death eaters, right after the war. Song-fic loosely based on Wicked's soundtrack.
"Once upon a time in the Wizarding Universe, there was a boy and a girl who appeared to utterly despise each other. He 'despised' her because of her heritage, and she 'despised' him because he bullied her relentlessly. The boy would pick on her day in and day out, but she always got him back by besting him in every class they shared."
"Eventually, the girl befriended two boys who became heroes, and the boy was forced into being a Death Eater. The girl went on to help save the world, and the boy was on the losing side. His parents made him work for a wicked man named Voldemort."
Hermione had just sat down wither her son, Scorpius, and her god- children, Rose and Albus, to tell them the story of how her and Draco ended up together. She thought there was a lesson to be learned from this story, and decided she was going to share it with the children, whether they liked it or not. No matter how cliché and corny it was.
"However, the boy and the girl both shared a huge secret." She said to the children. Hermione watched as Scorpius and Albus looked at each other and sighed dramatically, wanting to be outside in the snow, rather than listening to a boring love story. Rose, however, was hanging onto Hermione's every word.
"In order to tell you this story, though, I have to skip ahead to after the Battle at Hogwarts. It's a little confusing, but bear with me…"
"Good news!"
"He's dead!"
"He who shall not be named is dead!"
"No, Voldemort is dead. It's okay to say his name now, Angela."
"Whatever, he's dead."
Hermione watched the crowd that was huddled in the courtyard of what was once Hogwarts. It had been only a week since the war had ended, and she was asked by Shacklebolt to give a short speech about the good news.
She was not happy about it.
She hadn't wanted to come back to a place that brought her so many bad memories. This- this horrifying reminder of all the pain and suffering that occurred at what was once her favorite place to be. A place that was already being renovated for the next school year, as if none of this ever happened. She had even been invited back to continue her education for one more year, considering most of her final year of Hogwarts had been spent in the woods fighting a war. She still wasn't sure if she would accept the offer or not.
No matter how much she argued though, the fact remained that she was the "Golden Girl". The most level-headed of the trio. Shacklebolt would not take no for an answer.
"Why can't Ron or Harry do it?" Hermione had complained.
"You know as well as I do that Harry is not in the condition to be speaking to a large group of people and Ron is a hot-head." Shacklebolt had reasoned.
He had a point there. Ron certainly was a hot-head.
As she took a breath and stepped from the shadows of the stage, she could hear the hushed whispers about the 'wickedest wizard there ever was' and 'the enemy of everyone in the wizarding world' being dead.
'Not everyone here,' she thought,' was an enemy of Voldemort.'
Hermione impatiently waited for the crowd to notice her and settle down. She had been standing there about five minutes before a familiar looking citizen cried out, "Look! It's Hermione!" She thought that the wizard looked familiar, maybe Seamus Finnegan, but she wasn't too sure.
Hermione forced a smile as the citizens all turned away from their gossip to pay attention to their hero. Taking a shaky breath, she began her well-thought out speech.
"Fellow citizens, let us be glad, be grateful, and rejoice that our good and hard-working souls could subdue the wicked workings of, well, Voldemort." She took a moment for the loud roar of agreeing citizens to die down before continuing. She must have sounded confident and calm if they were being this responsive to her.
'Or, they just love you because you helped save their arses form eternal slavery…' she thought inwardly.
Hermione tucked that thought away and continued, "Isn't it good to know that we live in a world where good will always conquer evil? That the truth that we all believe in will outlive the lies told by those who try to deceive us? For both you and-"
"No one mourns the wicked!"
Hermione was interrupted by an outburst from the middle of the crowd. Two men were standing there, sizing each other up. They were staring each other down as if they were prey. Both of them were vaguely familiar, especially the man who was being challenged.
"Well I do mourn the wicked! My father was one of those 'Wicked Death Eaters'," he had to put air quotes around those three words, "and I understand that he did horrible things to other people. But, he is still my father, and despite the fact that he did terrible things, I still love him. Who are you to judge me for that!?" Hermione recognized the lanky, brown haired young man who stood before her, but she couldn't quite put a name with a face. She knew he was in her year at Hogwarts though.
The other man was raging. He had a fire in his eyes and looked ready to bite. Hermione just decided to step back and watch how the scenario would play out.
Another person, a witch this time, stepped out of the crowd and yelled in a shrill voice, "You don't see any of us crying about them being dead! No tears are shed over the fact that they will never return form the grave. They killed our loved ones!"
There were several murmurs of agreement before the crowd started shouting out slurs at the guy and demanding that he was wrong. The poor guy was cornered.
Hermione felt for him, she really did. The incident made her think of her best friend. She hadn't heard from him since the war was won. He hadn't even owl'd her. She had been worrying for days, but she couldn't let anyone else know. They would treat her the same way that this outcast was being treated now. It wouldn't matter that she helped save them all.
"No one lays a lily on their grave!" Shouted another person from the audience.
"All good wizards and witches should scorn the Death Eaters and their wicked slave driver!" Shouted someone else.
The crowd was closing in on the man and yelling at him. Words could barely be distinguished because the roar was so deafening. Hermione finally decided to step in.
"While it is true," she practically had to yell at the audience, "That the opposing side of the war was wicked, at least the children can learn through these mistakes as they get older. They can learn what they miss when they misbehave, that is. Let's not forget that." She said as the crowd started to forget their outspoken neighbor and pay attention to Hermione again. He looked grateful.
"Goodness knows, though, that the wicked life is rather lonely. And goodness knows that the Wicked do end up and die alone. They shut out their families, spread lies, and are deceiving monsters. They drive everyone who loves them away." She was looking directly at him, still puzzled by his identity, "I guess it just goes to show that when you are wicked, you're left on your own."
The mystery man was now glaring at her, but she knew what she was doing.
"But," she said, looking at everyone now. She was pleading with them to see both sides, like she and this mystery man did, "are people really born wicked? Or, do they have wickedness brought upon them. Bear with me one moment. Take Draco Malfoy for instance."
The name tasted sweet on her tongue, despite the bitter looks on everyone's faces. She missed him terribly and just wanted to know that he was safe. She could use nothing more than a playful insult and his arms around her.
"He had a father, and a mother, just like you and me. They were high, upstanding members of the community. And, despite raising their son to believe that muggle-born children were beneath him, he lived a fairly normal life. The fact that he despised muggle-born witches and wizards didn't make him evil. It just made him a little mean. However, when Lucius took Voldemort into his house and forced Draco to become one of the Death Eaters, he thrust wickedness upon Draco. Who's to say that Draco wanted to be a Death Eater? Who's to say that he even wanted to be affiliated with Voldemort? He had no choice to do what his parents asked of him. So you see- it couldn't have been easy!" Her voice was growing louder by the second as she watched the reactions of the crowd before her. She just wanted them to understand.
"No one mourns the wicked!" Shouted someone in the crowd.
"Draco is probably dead and gone!" Yelled another. That one made her flinch. She didn't want to think about the possibility that he could be dead... Even if it was a thought that crossed her mind from time to time.
The crowd did not like that their beloved Hermione was taking up for the infamous, teenage Death Eater. Especially one that managed to escape Azkaban. She immediately backtracked, trying to keep everyone at peace. She wasn't in the mood for a lynching today, and she had dealt with enough fighting for two lifetimes.
"Yes!" Hermione yelled, causing everyone to pay attention to her once again, "Yes. I agree. He... Probably is dead and gone." She hated herself for saying it out loud, but it had to be said. It was the only way to keep the community on her side. "I was merely trying to reason with both sides. Goodness knows, though, that we sure do know what goodness is. So, I say woe to those who spurn good deeds. No one mourns the wicked!"
Hermione stepped back and listened to the thunderous applause that followed her speech. She seemed to have gotten back in everyone's good graces. Everyone that is, except for mystery man. He was standing still amongst the crowd, glowering at her. Like a rock in the ocean.
She just shrugged at him apologetically. Sighing, she muttered to herself, "I guess not everyone can see both sides."
Criticism is always appreciated, but please don't be hateful about it. I understand if no one trusts me to update, as this is my third time trying to write this story. I'm just easily distracted.