Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. belongs to JK Rowling.
I'm not sure where this fic came from. I like it anyway.
And yes, Dracula really does mean "son of the dragon"
If anyone wants to tell me how many years this story spans, please go ahead. I'll never add it up for myself.
-Lost in the Forest.
It was an unremarkable day in May, 2002 when Hermione had a revelation, as all intelligent people who think are bound to have. The previous day had been much more eventful, for that day was when she realized that she loved someone. His name is not important, as he will not be mentioned again.
The revelation was simple and shocking.
Love feels a lot like hatred.
And then she thought about all the people that she has hated. Only one boy brought about the twisted feeling of hatred in her stomach that felt so much like love. She wondered what he was doing now, as she had not seen his face nor heard his name since they had left Hogwarts, those few years ago.
And then her attention was drawn away, and she set these collected thoughts on a shelf in the far depths of her mind.
Two years later she had a dream about the boy. It was very dull, nothing that she didn't already know.
Three days later she remembered who the boy was.
One hour later, she found that he had a magical mirror in his residence. She contacted him and, finding his mirror's personality dry and dreary, hung up without leaving a message.
Three hours later, when Draco returned home, his mirror informed him that a Miss Granger had called, but had not left a message. He could only think of one Miss Granger, and assumed that her finding him was a mistake. He did not call her back.
Four years later the two had an astoundingly rare meeting in a café in Paris. Both were on business. Neither was attached. They had lunch on the terrace. She had lived life, and was no longer the pretentious snob she had been in school. He had given up the Dark Arts and now found solace in theater, Muggle and Wizard alike.
Around the second cup of coffee they admitted to each other that both hated the other, and always would. They both accepted this and continued with their drinks.
They each ordered five cups of coffee in all, catching up on life, before admitting defeat and departing. Draco walked Hermione to her hotel door and romantically kissed her hand. She dreamed of him that night. He didn't sleep.
Two days later Hermione saw Draco at a production of Madwoman of Chaillot. They both deemed it fate and made plans for dinner later that night. Draco brought twenty red, long stemmed roses for Hermione. She commented about how unimaginative they were. Nineteen roses started singing "The Way You Look Tonight". One rose informed her that he was an accomplished author, and that she should read some of his work before she judged him.
Hermione told Draco that she still hated him. He said that he still hated her. They left it at that.
At the end of the night the two departed without making plans. They left it up to fate to decide if they were supposed to be together. Hermione admitted to herself that she had never had a better night.
A week and a half later the two had a chance meeting in Hogsmeade. They met at the Three Broomsticks everyday at 8 p.m. that week.
"I love you." Hermione told Draco, five weeks and two days later.
"Don't say that."
"But it's true," she insisted.
"We both said we would always hate each other. I know I will always hate you. Will you always hate me?" Hermione smiled.
"I hate you, Draco."
One year, three months, and seven days later, Draco proposed.
After spending a week locked in her apartment sensibly thinking about his offer, as any intelligent person who thinks is liable to do, she accepted.
One year, three months later, the two were wed. At the end of their vows, they told each other that they hated the other. The audience was terribly confused. The newly-weds merely smiled.
They honeymooned in Paris.
They lived in perfect peace for exactly 3 months.
Three months and one day after the wedding, Draco did one thing he had never done before; he fainted. Hermione was pregnant.
Some nine months later, a healthy baby boy was born into the Malfoy family. Draco wanted to name him Dracula.
"No."
"But Dracula means 'son of the dragon!' It would be perfect!"
They named him Marcius.
Hermione kissed her son's head and told him she loved him. She kissed his husband's mouth and told him she hated him.
The family and friends wondered desperately how the boy would turn out with parents that always told each other that they hated the other.
About eleven years later, Marcius arrives at Hogwarts for his first year. The Sorting Hat took the longest time ever recorded sorting him, because he refused to believe that his parents were Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.
One day later, Hermione and Draco started working on making Marcius a younger brother or sister, something Marcius had wished for every Christmas since he could talk.
Two months and three days later, Draco did one thing he has never done before; he cried. The doctor had called and told him that Hermione was infertile, and that she could bear no more children.
A month and a half later, Marcius came home for Christmas. He had asked for a baby brother or sister for Christmas.
Three days later, Hermione finally stopped crying and came out of her room. She told her son she loved him and her husband she hated him. Then she returned to her room.
Christmas morning, Hermione came back out looking refreshed and as happy as ever. No one but her knows what happened in her room all those many days.
Six years and five months later, Marcius graduated Hogwarts.
Three months later, Draco Malfoy died. Hermione cried at his side, the only man she had ever hated.
"I love you, Draco." She kissed his cold, pale cheek.
Marcius asked her why she always told him that she hated him until his death bed.
"Because I always hated him, right until this day."
One week later, Hermione Malfoy died.