So some people said they wanted the sequel to Fred's story so here is Hermione and Draco's, another love story that no one expected in the wizarding world.

before reading this you may want to read my other story To Love What's Lost, just in case there are things you don't understand.

Please review!

May 2nd 2000

It was time again; time to face the darkness, the way he was forced to every single night.

Who was it this time, Draco thought as he fell into the fitful sleep he was forced to endure every night. It was usually the same, only a few, minute, yet catastrophic differences between the dreams that plagued him. Who would it be tonight?

He was in the drawing room of the Malfoy Manor, the very room her refused to enter, even two years after the war. Some things just can be unseen.

The sky shone a dusky purple through the windows, casting patches of ghostly light across the cold, white marbled floor. The high windows were all barred, nothing was getting in, but more importantly, he wasn't getting out.

Despite his previous experiences, Draco tried pulling the door, fighting pointlessly with the strong wood for a means of escape. The room for a silent for only a few moments until the singing began.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Draco's cold grey eyes fell on a girl. That's all she was, a girl around 4 or 5 years old, her soft, curly brown hair pulled into a high pony tail and tied with a green ribbon to match her green dress, her blue eyes glistened as she span and twirled, her skirts flapping with her movements.

Rose-marie. He thought, looking at the younger model of his sister as she frolicked across the room, her bright, sunny voice still failing to brighten the room.

The girl continued to dance, and as she did, she changed. Her hair fell from its pony tail, wafting around her shoulders like a chocolate wave, she grew taller, her blue eyes filling with the knowledge and wisdom she had obtained through out her short years. Before long, Rose-marie was how Draco remembered her, a beautiful 19 year old girl. She wore a long red dress with golden embroidery, the dress she wore to the Yule ball, her feet were bare as she stepped tentatively forwards, and no matter how ferociously Draco tried to get away, she was soon trapped in the circle of his arms as they danced.

There was no music, at least none that Draco could hear, yet Rose-marie hummed along, her eyes shut, her smile content as she allowed Draco to spin and twirl her around the room.

Do it, Draco. Hissed a horribly familiar voice in his ear. He couldn't see the voices owner, and despite the familiarity he couldn't place it either. So he ignored the voice, continuing to dance with Rose-marie the way he had always wanted too. She was so beautiful; her sky blue eyes stared up at him, the watery depths filled with happiness and love, the way he dreamed she would look at him.

Draco, the voice hissed again, Do it. if he had understood what the voice was asking of him, he would have woken up that second, but just like every other night, he didn't know, not his dream self at least. Hurry. It sneered again.

"Draco?" Rose-marie's voice was soft, concerned, as she looked questioningly up at Draco, her blue eyes worried for the teenage boy who held her. "What is it?"

"I have to do it" his dream self said, his grey eyes terrified as he looked down upon the beautiful girl with the soft, pale face. "I have to kill you" he said, a sob breaking through his words. She gently placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb rubbing a soothing pattern across his high cheekbones.

"I know" she replied, her eyes beginning to water as she looked up at him, tiny tears slipping through her thick lashes when she blinked.

"But I don't want to" he said eagerly, leaning further into her touch, terrified that at any moment she might slip away. Almost there, Draco. Do it! The voice was sounding more and more eager as the seconds crashed on.

"I know" she said again, smiling up at him with her teary blue eyes. He reached for her face, but she was suddenly out of reach. He could still see her clear as day, as though she was right before him, but still she was out of his reach. "I understand" a thin line of crimson liquid began to trickle from her pink lips, rolling down her white skin to splash on what was once a red dress, but was now a white vest.

Her body crumpled then, falling from his arms, leaving her lying on her back, her brown hair splayed around her head like a halo as the red slashes appeared on her skin, three deep wounds pouring blood on her stomach and chest, tiny, but far from insignificant cuts appearing on her arms, legs and throat, each one bleed copiously.

"Rose-marie!" he shouted, lunging for her, this time the dream let him through. He fell to the floor beside her, lifting her head slowly onto his lap. He didn't speak, he didn't get a chance, and her eyelids were already fluttering, the life draining slowly out of her body like water down a plug.

She gave one last gasp, one last word and her body fell limp in his arms.

Well done, Draco. The voice said, softer than before. Draco looked down, to where Rose-marie lay in his lap. Both of his hands were drenched in blood, his left clinging exceptionally tight to his wand, the knuckles white. A figure began to waltz out of the darkness, a woman, wearing a long black dress, her hair a bird nest of black curls that was as oily as Severus Snape's used to be.

She was smiling, black teeth winking out from behind the white; the blade in the woman's hand was glistening, fat red drops falling from the tip as she twirling into between her thin, almost skeletal fingers, a feral look in her eyes. We are so very proud of you.

He sat upright in his bed, the grey sheets a tangle around his long legs. He was breathing heavily, his breaths coming out in heavy pants, each one making a wheezing sound like air from a balloon. Sweat sheathed his body like a second skin but he felt colder than he had before.

His eyes stared forward, images flickering across his vision. Rose-marie he thought, images of the blue eyed girl falling over his eyes, memories of their childhood together filling his mind, the image of her bleeding out on the floor repeated over and over again.

"Draco" said a voice from behind the door. "Draco, are you awake?" he would recognise his mothers voice any where. He knew if he didn't reply she would just walk in, the way she had accustomed herself to doing, but he couldn't speak, his mouth was as dry as sand, his throat sore and hoarse.

Sure enough, the door opened, revealing Draco's mother, Narcissa. She was tall and slim, a lot slimmer than she had been when Draco was still in school; her long blonde hair was tied back in a strict bun, her blue eyes so much warmer than they used to be as she looked upon her distraught son.

"Oh, my boy" she said, walking elegantly towards Draco's bed, he didn't protest when she sat on the covers beside him, nor did he complain when she wrapped her slim arms around his shoulders, holding like the innocent child he never was.

The war had changed people, some simply decided they wanted to continue education should another war break out, others decided to be muggles and escape the turmoil. Narcissa however, she changed her entire way of life. She had left her husband, telling Draco he could stay or go and be loved either way, she had gotten herself her own job at the Ministry of Magic and still held a small fortune from the Black family vaults, a fortune she shared with her only remaining sister, Andromeda after reuniting.

War did strange things to people, that was for sure. Narcissa Malfoy had disowned her sister due to the blood traitor title she had been placed under, yet after the war they managed to rekindle old family connections. It seemed both of the sisters had lost the same thing to the war, a husband and a daughter.

"Its okay, Draco" Narcissa shushed, rocking Draco slightly as he tried effortlessly to rid his mind of the horrific images flashing.

"Can I go in?" Draco asked and Narcissa stopped immediately, her grip on her now only child tightening.

"I'm not sure today is the day for that, my son" she said softly, her cold voice replaced by the soft, motherly tone that Draco was still growing accustomed to.

"I want to go in" he pressed, pulling himself from his mothers comforting grip, despite the sanctuary he found there. Narcissa didn't reply, she nodded, standing up and holding out her hand for her son. He took I gratefully, pulling himself to his feet.

Together they walked in silence, the portraits in the Malfoy Manor ogling them curiously as they walked down corridors and up staircases, echoes of lost screams still trapped within its walls. Narcissa had been lucky to be freed by the ministry, claiming that she had saved Harry (which she had) and that her and her son had no true dealings with that of the deatheaters. They were released without charge, Lucius, however, was currently locked in Azkaban Prison, the very place he deserved in both Narcissa and Draco's eyes.

They finally stopped before a door. It was a plain door, much like the others in the manor, nothing but pristine white wood. Narcissa gave a pleading look to her son, one he graciously ignored. With a sigh, Narcissa reached inside the pocket of her robe, withdrawing from it her sleek, black wand. She tapped in once on the door knob, small orange sparks flittering around the metal for a second before they vanished.

Draco entered first, his strides purposeful as he entered the room he'd been too afraid to enter until now. It was a simple room, much how Draco had expected it to be. When Draco had turned eleven was the last time he had entered this room, the day he got his Hogwarts letter. He'd come in jumping and screaming, enveloped into a bone crushing hug by his older sister.

Back then it was a simple room, white walls, a white bed with soft, pink covers and throw pillows. There was an empty book case back then, and simple white furniture with a simple, pink rug. How the years had changed.

The walls were now a pale grey, with the ceiling remaining white. The carpet was a soft, calming cream colour with a large, purple rug. Around the top corners of the room hung chains of fairy lights that remained lifeless, leaving the room dark. Despite the dust, Draco could still make out the double bed against the back wall of the room and the thick grey curtains that hung from the ceiling of the long window.

There was a click and the room was suddenly illuminated with a flurry of colour. Every fairy light sprang into life instantly, spotting the room with soft, beautiful colours. Now the room was lit Draco knew why his mother was so adamant to allowing him inside.

Everything was hers, everything looked like hers and the room even still smelt like her, the soft, vanilla scent that wafted after her, even after being inactive for two years. There was a desk against one wall, parchment and ink pots sprawled across the surface. The wardrobe was open, the hangers bare from when she had left, the drawers still remained closed. The bookcase by the window was fit to bursting, a thin veil of dust separating Draco from knowing the books titles.

There were at least three shelves filled with the muggle CD's that Draco knew she had always enjoyed, records were even stuck to the walls with what he assumed to be permanent sticking charms. Beside the bed sat an empty cage, the one he knew once housed Amata, her owl.

What caught Draco's eye last was the collage of papers stuck to the wall above her bed. The bed itself took up one third of the wall, any other space was occupied by pieces of parchment with fading ink, pictures that moved happily or even trivial things such as a knight bus ticket.

Reaching a pale hand forward, she uncurled the corner of a photograph to reveal the picture. There she was, smiling away, her blue eyes glistening in the firelight. In the picture was another girl, a girl with long, fiery hair and brown eyes. They were sat in what Draco assumed to be a living room. It was shabby and looked very unstable with a low hanging roof and patchwork sofas, but it still looked cosy. The two girls were sat on the sofa, giggling at something until they finally spied the camera, their faces turning hot with rage. Draco would recognise Ginny Weasley anywhere.

Tugging a piece of parchment from the wall, no concern for anyone's privacy, Draco began to read.

I hope you have a lovely birthday, dear, and I hope your gift arrives on time.

We look forward to seeing you at the wedding, but until then, best of wishes from all of us and we hope you enjoy your birthday.

Lot's of love

Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, George, Ron and Ginny Weasley.

The ink was slowly fading, but Draco could see where each of the Weasley's had signed there own name, Ginny with neat curving letter, Ron's a complete scrawl. It struck him with a pang of betrayal that this letter must have been just before she left home. Draco spent the rest of his day inside that room, not noticing when his mother left, or when house elves supplied him with food. Instead he sat on the edge of her bed, flicking through photographs of the smiling girl with her friends, and many of her with one of the Weasley's, the twin (he didn't know his name) and reading letters and notes that she had left behind. It struck Draco then how much more other people knew about this girl than he did, how much more there was to her.

She wasn't the perfect, Slytherin princess his father had wanted, maybe that's why he had hated her. She was strong, and beautiful. She knew what she wanted but never knew what she deserved, and she deserved the world, something Draco would all too willingly give to her. Her talent was immeasurable, both with magic and without. Draco could remember the times he had heard the piano in the dead of night, a beautifully soft voice tinkling along with the delicate playing of the keys.

He missed those moments now more than ever. The house was cold and silent without her music, it was eerie to be in her room, but Draco needed to feel close to her again, just once more.

When Draco finally left the room he left with a promise, he was going to make a story heard. People would remember her, they would remember her for who she was, the hero she became. More not a single experience left out, not a single bridge was to remain burned. Today was the day Draco Malfoy was going to finally grow up, today was the day Draco Malfoy was going to avenge her. Rose-marie had always loved stories, now Draco was going to make her the greatest story of all time.

He turned the lights off in the room, gathering as many photographs and letters as he could before locking the door once again. Before he descended the narrow staircase that led to her room, he pulled his wand from his pocket, struggling slightly to simultaneously hold the box of papers and cast a spell. He left a note, nothing fancy, but it said what needed to be said and hadn't. He slowly descended the stairs, making his way back to his own room. The glowing letters on the wooden door still growing from where they were burned into the wood.

Forever

Rose-marie Greengrass

The music to our silent world.

June 2016

"Mum, you really don't have to come with me, I'll be fine on my own" said the man as he pulled off his white healers robes, switching it for a black blazer. His mother stood opposite him, her blonde hair faded to a light, silvery grey, her blue eyes kinder than they were all those years ago.

"Draco, honestly" she breathed out, her hands clasped sophisticatedly in front of her. She wore long robes in a midnight blue colour, her hair falling past her shoulders. "Is it so horrible for me to want to see my own grandson" she said with a slight sneer, the remaining influence that his father had left.

"You can see him" Draco said, pocketing his wand and reaching for the door handle "When I get home" he replied with a cheeky smirk, and then he was gone, walking down the pebbled driveway towards the nearest apparition point.

The summer's sun was drooping slowly beneath the hills on the horizon, the sky glowing with pinks and oranges above the blue. How many times had he walked this road, how many times had he gazed at the sun as it dropped beneath the horizon?

There was something magical about a sunset; the way day and night collided in an explosion of colours, far too vivid for this harsh world. She used to sit with him to watch the sunset.

It was true that after the war, the Malfoy's had, in a way, retreated in on themselves. Lucius had been locked away in Azkaban; dementor's feeding on his soul, only for him to die unexpectedly four years later. Narcissa hadn't mourned, she must have cared, she wasn't that cold, but she never mourned for the husband she cast out.

Draco didn't either, he watched emotionless as they lowered the empty shell that was his father's body into the ground, not shedding a single tear for the man he knew as his father, nor did he stay at the Malfoy family plot for too long. Instead his legs carried him to another set of graves, two tombstones side by side.

Michael Greengrass, born 11 December 1959, died 23 September 1981

Beloved Son, Husband, Father, Friend

Holly Greengrass, born 29 may 1960, died 23 September 1981

Beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother, Friend

For those who fell in the first Wizarding War, we raise our wands, you saved us all

'A man who will not die for something is not fit to live'

His eyes skimmed past the first one, covered with moss and grime with age, and instead fell on the second one.

Rose-marie Greengrass, born 14 April 1979, died 2 May 1998

Beloved Daughter, Fiancée, Sister, Friend

For those who fell in the second Wizarding War, we raise our wands, you saved us all

Do not fear death, fear a life unlived

He remembered sitting, or rather collapsing, on the damp earth, his finger nails biting into the ground as he stared at the grey stone. She had said those words before, only once, when Draco learnt the true nature of her parentage, he had asked if she feared death, and that was her brief, soulful reply. Looking at it reminded him of all the things he missed out on with her life, her engagement, her first step into a whole new life. A life without him.

It did her no justice, the words etched onto her grave, was that how she would be remembered? As the girl who didn't live her life, who didn't have the time to live her life. Did people pass her grave every day, never stopping to pay respects, only ignoring the loss of a witch who was taken too soon? Or did they stop and glance at the words, murmuring about unfortunate events before they forgot all over again. Never even realising how she had save their lives, or how she had given her own life to make the world a safer and more magical place.

Draco had of course pleaded for Rose-marie to be buried in the Malfoy family plot, his mother had refused. Not out of spite or betrayal, Narcissa had love Rose-marie like her own child. She had instead suggested Rose-marie be buried with her own family, for she never knew the beautiful people her parents were, and they never knew the hero their daughter had become.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Draco had conjured a reef of flowers, blue roses, the colours of her eyes, before apparating back to the village near his home, the very spot he had reached now.

Draco was in London instantly, his back hit the hard, cool wall of an alley before his vision had returned. Walking to the station was a quick, insignificant affair, the alley to which he had apparated was the one opposite the stations entrance, so that led to little walking.

Walking through the barrier was always Draco's favourite part of leaving for Hogwarts, back when his innocence was unperturbed. The feeling of rippling and leaving the muggle world behind was a thrill he could never get tired of. Sadly it had now lost its thrill.

The platform was filled with people, all of them standing around, leaning against walls, holding the hands of small children as they waiting for the bright red train. There were multiple smiles and even some wave's aimed at Draco from the people he realised to be his previous classmates as they awaited the next generation to return.

"Hello, Draco" said a voice Draco in no way remembered. He turned his head slightly, his curious grey eyes meeting a pair of soft, brown ones.

"Hello" he said with a smile.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" said the man next to the woman who spoke first, his green eyes smiling at Draco in a way they never had before. Draco had made a pact to himself to build as many bridges as he could after the war, the first one starting with Harry Potter. The two of them weren't close, infact they didn't speak to each other for the soul point that they had no reason to. Draco was a healer, Harry was and auror, they didn't cross paths often unless it was an emergency.

"It sure has" he said back with a curt nod in the boy who lived direction. Much like with himself, time had been kind to Harry. His hair was still as mussed and black as ever, covering his scar, but there were single grey hairs noticeable through the mass, and his green eyes bore enough wisdom beneath those glasses to rival the oldest of wizards. He wore a simple attire, blue jeans and a grey shirt with a blue tie; he never did worry much about his appearance.

Ginny was just as fortunate as her husband, her hair was still fiery red, not a grey hair in sight, and her face was still soft and wrinkle free, but her brown eyes were as tired as Harry's, just as well lived. A pang of grief struck him, she should be here too, and she should be picking up her own child. How he longed to see her now, holding the hand of a small brunette girl with sapphire blue eyes, even if she was waiting for a red headed child to exit the train. This is what she deserved, what she'd always deserved.

"Mummy" said a quiet voice from beside Ginny. Glancing down, Draco saw a small girl who looked no older than 8 years old, tugging rather strongly at the bottom of her mothers blouse. "Is he back yet?" she asked impatiently, her brown eyes exactly like her mothers, her red hair pulled into two pigtails.

"No, Lily" Ginny said calmly "But he will be soon" the little girl huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Lily!" shouted another voice, and Draco watched as from across the platform a boy who looked to be only a little too young to attend Hogwarts came bolting down the concrete, carrying something that looked awfully like a firework in his hands. "Lily, look at this!" the little girl flew at the boy, observing the glittering mass between his fingers with a bold interest.

"Where'd you get it?" she asked bemused as the bundle of blue sparks continued to whistle and steam in the boys hands. The boy had an unruly mass of black hair and bright green eyes that shone with pride as he watched the little girl poke her slender fingers towards the bundle of sparks.

"Yours as well" Draco said with a smile, more a statement than a question, but Ginny still smiled proudly and Draco was sure he saw Harry smirk.

"What gave it away" Ginny said with an amused sigh, watching as Harry became suddenly as immersed in the prickling fire as his two children were. "He's still such a child" Ginny said with a tired laugh, her eyes watching her husband and two children play with the fireworks. She heard Harry ask where Albus had found it, and heard a name that she should well have expected.

"Uncle George gave it to me!" Albus boasted "He's showing Roxy before Ron gets back" Draco short a quick look at Ginny, watching as her eyes softened, Harry's face falling slightly at the name.

"George's son" she said sadly "He's in his fourth year" Accepting this, Draco nodded. "Did you see Uncle Fred?" Ginny asked, trying to change the topic from Ron for everyone's sakes. The Weasley's were a tight-knit family, if one of them died, a part of the others died with them, and that would never change. The same could now be said for the Malfoy's, the loss of one child had changed their entire outlook on life, turned all their previous prejudices on their heads.

"No" Albus pouted as he handed the firework to his father "George say's he'll be here soon though" he finished, brightening up slightly before returning to the fireworks. Ginny sighed, clearly frustrated with her elder brothers lack of punctuality.

"The train's not due for ten minutes, Gin" Harry said, watching happily as his children played with the sparks "Give them another nine and they'll be here" he said with a cheeky smile, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"I guess you're right" she replied with a quiet giggle. "Who are you waiting for, Draco?" she asked, realising she had paid little to no attention to how he was doing.

"My son" he said with a faint smile. "It's his first year" Ginny smiled back at him before being tugged, none too gently by the arm.

"Albus!" she exclaimed as the little boy dragged her away, Lily already pulling Harry across the platform. "Nice speaking to you, Draco" she said with a wave, seeing how ineffective her attempts to resist were. He gave a kind smile and a wave before returning to waiting for the train to arrive.

It was approximately seven minutes later that Draco felt a light tap on his shoulder. Having removed his blazer jacket, he could feel the warmth of the person's hands through the thin fabric of his shirt. Looking around his grey eyes once again met brown, only this time, a flood of memories joined in.

The dreams hit him first, the amount of times he's seen her dancing elegantly in her periwinkle dress, her hair in an elegant knot, her eyes shining up at him as he held her safely within the circle of his arms. That image always dissolved the quickest, he would hear the voice in his ear and then she would be screaming, her slim body writhing on the floor, her back arching as she screamed out for Ron, or for Harry, or for her parents. And then the word would appear, red and blossoming on her arm before the letters dribbled across her skin, the blade clutched in Draco's hands as he held her.

They were always the same, one girl or the other; he dreaded the day they came at once. To kill and to torture, the two things Draco could not, and would not ever do. They were inhuman, and the thought of doing them to the two girls he- no, now wasn't the time to dig up old feelings.

"I thought it was you" she said with a sad smile. She wore a plain white dress beneath a navy blue blazer, the sleeves rolled down to cover her arm. Her shoes were sensible, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in chocolate ringlets. It was clear, despite the makeup she wore that she had been crying. Draco dealt with grief and turmoil enough being a healer to know when someone tried to hide their red cheeks and puffy eyes.

"It's me" he said with a disbelieving smiling "It's good to see you, Hermione" she smiled shyly at him, looking suddenly like a teenage girl again, and not the thirty-eight year old woman she was.

This was one of the only bridges Draco was yet to build. The opportunity had arisen of course, but Draco's courage had failed him. There was too much history between him and Miss Granger, some she didn't even know about.

"Would you like to come over" she said with a smile, holding out her hand towards the red-headed man who was leant against the wall, observing a pigeon, a confused look on his face, another person Draco had failed to build a bridge with due to the soul reason that he loved his sister more than he did himself, something Draco never anted to admit about a Weasley.

Draco pulled a dubious face, opening his mouth to reply, only to be cut off. "No arguments" she said with a smile "You're coming over" and that was how he ended up stood in a circle of people a few minutes later, Hermione's daughter chatting away joyfully, his own son by his side.

He snuck glances at Hermione, watching amused as Scorpius praised Fred for his shop. It was rather intimidating how much Hermione had grown up, the age barely showed on her face, yet her eyes were so clouded, so sad, that Draco had to know more about her. It was also rather eerie how much Rose looked like Hermione when she was in fifth year. Her hair was frizzy and all over the place, the colour of milk chocolate, just like her mother. Yet her eyes were bright and alive, the brightest of sapphire blue, just like her fathers.

"You come by the shop anytime" Fred said with a smile to the little boy from where he sat, squatting to be his sons height.

"Merlin's beard" Draco breathed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Don't encourage him" he heard Hermione give a quiet giggle and tried to suppress the pride that swelled inside him like a Balloon. "Well, Scorpius" Draco said, placing a hand on his son's head, ruffling the platinum blonde locks "We'd better be going. Say goodbye"

And so the goodbyes began. First came Fred, whom Draco shook hands with in a familiar, almost friendly way, next was a polite nod towards Hermione's daughter, Rose. Finally came Hermione.

Draco had intended to go for a handshake, friendly and familiar, just like with Fred. This however changed the second her warm hand was slotted within his own. Without realising, his face was next to her ear, the frizz of her hair tickling his cool cheek.

"Owl me" was all he said, giving her a quick, sweet kiss on the cheek before pulling away, revelling in the blush he left on her face, before turning and walking back towards the barrier, his confused looking son in tow.

So please let me know what you think with a review!

And also feel free to PM me with any suggestions as to the plot since I'm not 100% sure...

hope you liked it!