I know I'm supposed to be writing the next chapter of "To the Past" but this little idea attacked me and I had to write it. I'm a huge Dramione fan, but I"ve always found them very difficult to write. I really enjoyed writing this!
AU: It is January of 2001. Voldemort has not been defeated, the Order is still in action, and a meeting has been called. For once, there is good news.
"It is rare for us to meet with good news."
Everyone sat up straighter. Good news - it was indeed a scarce reason to call a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. It was Alastor Moody who had spoken, the consummate survivor, and unofficial leader of the group since Albus Dumbledore's death in 1996.
Moody stood at the head of the table. To his right sat the "older" members of the Order. Remus Lupin was first, his face lined, his hair gray. He had a perpetual look of exhaustion etched into his features, but this was nothing new. He had endured too many years of hardship, too many losses, and too many full moons to retain any appearance of youth.
Directly next to him sat his wife, Nymphadora Tonks. Her usual sunny demeanor had been toned down the past few years: her hair had stayed a neutral brown, her nose always the same, and her normal loud voice quieted. She was holding hands with her husband on top of the table, her wedding ring glinting in the light from above.
Further down sat Molly and Arthur Weasley, also holding hands atop the table. The leaders of a once full and happy family looked cautiously hopeful at the promise of good news. Two of their children – Bill and Fred – had been taken from them in the past few years, and the usual happiness that they possessed - he with his muggle wonderings, and she with her household tendencies, had all but faded. They were ghosts of their former selves, fiercely protective over their remaining children, but constantly reminded of those they had lost.
Across the table sat George, Charlie and Percy. Percy had returned from the ministry shortly after it had been overrun with death eaters, and had been spending the past four years making up for his mistakes. He went out of his way to be a Weasley, and unconsciously tried to fill the void that had been left behind by his departed siblings. Charlie had returned from Romania, badly scarred and battle worn from years with dragons. He had not left the family since Bill's death, and felt personally responsible for it: Bill had jumped in front of a curse that had been directed at Charlie, and had thus been killed. George was constantly followed by the memory of his lost twin, and still, three years later, left sentences unfinished, waiting for Fred to complete them. The loss was felt anew every day for George when he looked in the mirror.
Next to the three eldest Weasleys sat their only sister, Ginny Potter. Ginny was the most stubborn of the group, absolutely refusing to allow her brothers and parents fight while she sat on the side. She participated in many battles when she was still underage, and became even more involved when she turned 17. Everyone had believed that she and Harry were broken up because of the war, until one night three years earlier they had returned home from "shopping" both wearing wedding rings. They had announced calmly that they had gotten married. Mrs. Weasley was, of course, furious. It was, after all, her only daughter's wedding. Ginny and Harry had assured her that if they made it out of the war alive, they would throw a huge ceremony. This had appeased the Weasley matriarch.
Harry was between Ginny and Ron, his hand on Ginny's thigh under the table. He had long ago realized that the war was bigger than just him, and that Voldemort's reach and desires were more than to kill the boy who lived. He considered himself a member, rather than the catalyst of the Order of the Phoenix. His eyes betrayed the stoicism on his face; they lit with excitement at the prospect of something to celebrate.
Ron sat next to Harry, his lips pursed together in a tight line. He didn't dare hope for good news. Two years previously, Ron had married Luna Lovegood, something that had surprised even his best friends. She had become pregnant shortly after, but their good news had quickly turned sour. Luna was hit by a stray curse while on her way to the Burrow to meet Ron and share their happy news with the rest of the family. She was rushed to St. Mungo's where she soon succumbed to her injuries. Ron Weasley had lost his wife and his child in less than an hour.
At the end of the table sat Hermione Granger, her hair covering the side of her face, hiding her from her best friends. Her hands were twisting nervously together under the table, and her eyes were fearful. Hermione craved good news as much as anyone else, but for her, good news to the Order could destroy her life.
It was the summer of 1998, and the war was raging in Britain. Hermione had gone to her childhood home to check on her parents. She had put wards on their home a few months prior, and periodically stopped in to make sure they were still holding. It had been almost a month since the last time she had visited; she had been travelling across the country with Harry and Ron looking for Voldemort and his horcruxes. As she arrived on her former street, she could tell immediately that something was wrong. The air was off; it crackled with dark magic.
Fear flooded her. What if Voldemort or his followers were at her parent's home? Before she could think, she broke into a run towards the house. She was almost to the door when a sharp rush of wind stopped her. It felt like she had hit a wall, and she realized that she had hit someone else's ward. She wheeled around, searching for the source when she caught the eye of none other than Draco Malfoy. Anger surged into her system, and she stalked towards him, drawing her wand.
"Lower the ward," she hissed, coming upon him, her wand pointing straight as his chest. He shook his head.
"No, Granger."
"Lower the fucking ward," Hermione said, turning her wrist so the tip of her wand touched Draco's shirt. "Lower the fucking ward or I swear Malfoy, I'll kill you."
"It doesn't matter," he mumbled softly, raising his hands in surrender. "Listen Granger, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Let me into my house." Hermione commanded, her eyes flicking towards the structure. She could hear voices inside. "I need to see my parents."
"They're dead."
Hermione went into shock, her blood running cold at Draco's words. Her parents couldn't be dead. They couldn't die, they weren't that old, and she needed them.
"You're lying." She snarled, pushing her wand deeper into his chest. "You're just a slimy, lying Slytherin. My parents are not dead."
"Granger, I – " Draco was cut off by the sound of the door to Hermione's home opening. Panic flooded his features.
"Draco?" A harsh voice called, and Hermione recognized it as Lucius Malfoy.
"I – I'll explain." Draco said quickly, grabbing Hermione's arm. Before she could protest, he apparated them both away.
They landed hard on the ground in the middle of a field. Hermione jumped to her feet, again pointing her wand at Draco. "Where are we?" she asked, panicked and angry. Draco stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off his clothes.
"South of France." He muttered. Hermione's jaw dropped.
"You brought us to the south of France?" she hissed, taking a step away from them. "No, you know what, I don't even care about that. Why wouldn't you let me into my house? My parents are in there!"
"I told you, your parents are dead." Draco repeated. Before Hermione could interrupt, he continued. "I put up the ward to protect you."
"To protect me?" Hermione asked, biting back a laugh. Draco Malfoy, protect her?
"Your parents were already gone by the time you arrived. The death eaters…they were looking for traces of you in the house. Something that could lead them to the Order. If you had walked into that house, they would have killed you, or taken you to the Dark Lord."
"Malfoy, you hate me." Hermione said bluntly, her wand arm shaking. "Why would you want to try to protect me?"
"I'm not a death eater." He said, raising the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his bare arm. "I'm not like my father."
"But why help me?" Hermione asked, still confused as to why Draco Malfoy would want to save her life.
"Why would I want to hurt you? I realized a long time ago, Granger, even longer ago than I was consciously aware of, that you are not beneath me. Despite everything my father told me, despite the views that were drilled into me, being a pureblood means nothing. I couldn't allow you to go into that house and be killed because of that, or because you're friends with Harry Potter."
Draco finished his speech, leaving Hermione shocked, her mouth wide open. This was not the Draco Malfoy she had known in school.
"Surprised?" He questioned, a smirk adorning his face.
"Very." Hermione said shortly, lowering her wand to her side.
"I don't want to join the Order of the Phoenix." Draco said quickly, answering Hermione's unasked question. "Let there be no mistake, I'm not the good guy here. Even if I'm not a death eater, or don't follow their beliefs, I'm still one of them. I follow them around, follow their commands, and do nothing to stand up for what I think. I'm hardly a hero."
"You saved me." Hermione pointed out. Draco shrugged.
"Let's agree to keep that between us."
He had disappeared after that, leaving behind a confused and bewildered Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy, her bitter school enemy had saved her life. Not only that, he had renounced everything he had previously stood for in a few sentences, effectively changing every feeling she had toward him. She could not get him out of her head, and for a whole year, she saw and heard nothing from him.
June of 1999 began with an attack on Diagon Alley. It was unprecedented: previously, no dark wizard had attacked civilians in such an open and aggressive manor, and for a full twenty minutes death eaters attacked the village with no protest.
When the Order caught wind of the attack, all members were sent out to defend the untrained citizens. Fear gripped the hearts of all: they were outnumbered and ill prepared for such an attack, but nothing would be gained by sitting idly by. Arthur and Molly gave their children a once over; who knew what would happen over the course of the next hour. Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat as she watched Harry furiously kiss Ginny, his grip on her upper arms almost painful. George and Fred hugged each other, joking nervously about the impending fight. The air crackled with anticipation as the group apparated to Diagon Alley.
Hermione was not prepared for the sight that awaited them. There were bodies everywhere, and blood was running down the street at a rapid rate. She lost count as she ran; there were dead children, adults and magical creatures alike.
The battle was concentrated outside of Gringotts bank, with Voldemort himself in the middle of the fray, dueling any citizen that dared approach him. He sneered at the sight of the Order, less than twenty in their number. Hermione looked around at his death eaters, most of which were wearing masks. Some, such as Bellatrix Lestrange, didn't bother with masks at all. The sight of her face inflicted enough fear that a mask was not required.
Hermione's eyes ultimately fell on the youngest member of the opposing side, Draco Malfoy. Hermione sucked in a breath at the sight of the boy who had saved her life those many months earlier. He had been right; several days later, she and a number of Order members had returned to her home and found her parents dead in their living room. Ever since then, Hermione hadn't stopped thinking about Draco's actions and words.
At that second, his eyes turned to meet hers, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He was clutching his arm, blood running freely from an open wound. Hermione bit her lip, looking around at the Weasleys and other members of the Order around her. Without any more hesitation she broke away from the group, unnoticed by everyone. She grabbed Draco, pulling him down a side street.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, struggling to keep up with her fast pace.
"Fixing your arm." She said shortly, rounding a corner. They were in the farthest limits of Diagon Alley, away from the battle.
"They're going to notice we're gone." Draco pointed out, holding in a hiss of pain when Hermione gently pulled his hand away from his injury.
"No they won't. Where did this come from?" Hermione questioned, examining his arm.
"My father." Draco mumbled. "I guess I wasn't participating in the battle as much as he would have liked."
Hermione scoffed. "And cutting open your arm was going to help that?"
"Apparently."
Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching into her bag to pull out a small bottle of dittany. She poured a few drops over Draco's injury. He didn't bother to hold back his pain this time, and allowed a yelp to escape him.
"I'm sorry it hurts," Hermione said quietly.
"Not as much as you punching me third year," Draco said, to which Hermione laughed.
"Yes, I did a good job, didn't I?" she said, smiling. It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. He had been kidding; of course her punch had not hurt as much as the wound on his arm. He found, though, that as he conversed with her he forgot about the pain. He had even momentarily forgotten about the battle.
"Draco?" Hermione questioned quietly. He looked up at her. "Why don't you just join the Order? You don't want to be a death eater, and you agree with us. Why not just join us?"
Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Granger, I can't just leave the death eaters, people don't abandon Voldemort. Even if he didn't find me, he'd take it out on my parents. I don't give a damn about my father, but if anything happened to my mother…" he trailed off, looking up again to face Hermione. Her face was sad, her eyes downcast.
"I understand." She said quietly. "It just doesn't seem fair that you have to fight with them when you don't want to."
"Believe me, I know." He said. "Just work on defeating him, will you?" he joked. Hermione suddenly looked up, her eyes alert.
"Do you hear that?"
Draco strained to listen, but heard nothing. "I don't hear anything." He said.
"Exactly," Hermione started slowly. "It sounds like the battle is over."
Draco's face turned white, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards Gringotts. "We can't be missing if the battle is over," he said, his voice panicked. "I can't have them think I left."
Hermione nodded, struggling to keep up with him. They reached the end of the side road quickly, and Hermione gently pulled her hand from his. "I don't think that an Order member and a Voldemort follower can enter a battle holding hands." She joked. A ghost of a smile appeared on Draco's face, and without a word he leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to hers.
To say Hermione was surprised would be an understatement. Without thinking, she blindly threw her arms around Draco's neck, deepening their already harsh kiss. There was desperation and fear intermingled with desire, and Draco wished with all his might that they could leave the battle; leave and never come back.
It was over too quickly, and with regret, Draco pulled back. Hermione's lips were swollen, and her hands were shaking. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought of the blood and torture that awaited him upon his return to Voldemort. Why couldn't life be simpler?
"I'll see you," Draco said, biting his lip as he turned away from Hermione. She nodded, still dazed, before snapping back into action. She had abandoned the Order of the Phoenix during a battle to be with Draco Malfoy of all people. She followed his lead, lagging behind a few seconds, to rejoin the battle.
They had only been gone for a few minutes, and it seemed as if no one had noticed her absence. The reason soon became clear: Fred Weasley was lying on the ground, his mother bent over his form. He was dead. Shock registered on Hermione's face as she quickly made her way to Ron's side, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly. He collapsed onto her, pulling them both to the ground, sobbing.
"You would do well not to challenge me again." The cold voice of Lord Voldemort rang through the area. It could barely be heard over the cries of the Weasley family. Hermione looked over at the death eaters, their much larger number standing in silence behind their master. Her eyes locked with Draco, and he nodded slightly, unconsciously rubbing his lips. Hermione blushed, the heat from her cheeks pronounced against the cold salt of her tears.
Without a word, Voldemort and his followers apparated away. They had not wanted a battle, they had wanted a slaughter, and to remind the Order that they would always win. The crack of apparition faded, and all that remained were the anguished cries of a family who had lost of their number.
Draco and Hermione's last meeting would come in a much different, and less threatening manner. It had been over a year this time, and Draco still had not disappeared from Hermione's mind. She thought of him constantly, almost obsessively, wondering how he was and what he was doing.
The light sound of tapping woke Hermione from her slumber late one night in October 2000. She looked up, spotting an owl outside of her window. Everyone she ever corresponded with was in the same house as she, and it was with confusion that she approached the window to let the animal in.
It was an impressive eagle owl. She took the letter off of its leg with trembling hands, and unrolled it.
"Hermione," she mumbled, reading the letter aloud. "Please meet me at 600 Tottenham Court Road. DM" Her eyes widened. Was Draco Malfoy waiting for her?
It took only a split second for Hermione to make up her mind. She hadn't seen him in so long, and she desperately wanted to. She needed to know he was alive. After donning a travelling cloak and concealing her wand, Hermione tip toed out of Grimmauld Place, waiting until she was just outside the door to apparate away.
She landed on the corner of Tottenham Court Road. The area was silent, and she pulled out her wand, laying it on her hand. "Point me," she whispered, and the wand spun to the left. Hermione followed its direction, glancing at every address, looking for number 600. When she finally found it, she was surprised to see that it was a muggle hotel.
With trepidation, she entered the lobby, heading towards the front desk to inquire about Draco Malfoy. She didn't have to ask, however. Draco was standing in the lobby, his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall next to the elevator.
It had been over a year, but he still looked the same: tall, well-built and handsome. She swallowed nervously, making her way towards him cautiously. "Draco," she said quietly as she reached him. He smirked at her lightly, reaching an arm out to lay a hand on her shoulder.
"Let's go upstairs to talk," he suggested, holding up a key card. Hermione nodded mutely, following him into the elevator to the fourth floor. They walked to their room in silence, and Draco slid the key in, holding the door open for her to enter. She sat on the bed as Draco turned on a light. He sat in the chair opposite her, leaning back comfortably.
"You look nervous," he said, smiling slightly.
"Well, this is new for us." Hermione said bluntly. "Usually one of is about to die when we meet up."
Draco laughed at this, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. "How do you know that one of us isn't going to die?"
Hermione gulped, shrinking back slightly. "Not you, Granger." Draco continued. "Me."
"Why?" Hermione asked quickly, looking around the room.
"My father has been asked to murder me." Draco said lightly, picking lint off his pants. "It seems that the Dark Lord does not appreciate his followers refusing the mark, and not wanting to kill."
"Draco, you can come to our side, we can help you," Hermione said in a rush, her eyes wide. "You can fight for the Order, you can –" The look on Draco's face stopped her mid-sentence.
"I cannot." Draco said quietly. "If my father kills me, my mother is safe. If I switch sides, neither of my parents are safe, not to mention the entire Order would be in even more danger."
"I – " Hermione was at a loss for words. "Why did you ask me to come here?"
"I wanted to say goodbye," Draco said, looking her in the eyes. "I wanted to say goodbye to you, and to thank you for helping me."
"That's…no, I'm not going to let you die, Draco Malfoy." Hermione said firmly, standing up. "I don't know what we could do, but we can find some way that you can live. You're not going to die."
Draco smiled sadly, standing up as well. "I appreciate your concern for me, Granger." He said softly, putting his hands on her shoulders to stop her movements. "But I've accepted what's going to happen to me. This is the fate into which I was born. I can't escape my pureblood, dark family."
"Why did you want to say goodbye to me, of all people? Don't you have – "
"Friends?" Draco questioned, cutting her off. "You think I have friends? I never had friends, Granger, I had Crabbe and Goyle following me around at Hogwarts, and Pansy throwing herself at me every chance she had. I had admirers and followers, but never friends. Maybe that's why I hated you, Potter and Weasley so much."
Hermione said nothing, and moved her gaze to the floor. She still didn't understand why Draco had contacted her, of all people.
"I contacted you because your memory has been the only thing keeping me from losing my mind over the past year." Draco said honestly, lifting her chin up with a finger. "I'm surrounded by horrors," he continued, staring into her eyes. "Every day people are killed, and every day all I see is evil. It's enough to drive anyone insane. Maybe that's what happened to my father, I don't really know. But what I do know is that every time I started to believe that it was hopeless, I remembered you leaving the battle in Diagon Alley to help me, and I remember that not everyone is cold and evil. That there is some good in this world. And that's what had kept me sane."
Hermione did not speak. Her eyes were filling with tears. They were for Draco, they were for herself, and they were for everyone who had ever been affected by war. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right that people were subjected to the horrors they had seen.
In lieu of speech, Hermione leaned towards Draco, pressing her lips to his. At first he did not respond, but after a few seconds his surprise subsided, and he moved his lips against hers, parting them and pressing his tongue into her mouth. She copied his actions, and before either of them knew it, they were lying on the bed, Draco on top of Hermione. His hands wandered to her waist, slipping under her shirt and skimming back up her skin. Gooseflesh raised everywhere he touched, and Hermione was shivering with desire by the time he reached the bottom of her bra. He broke their kiss, looking at her, asking for permission. She gave him a smile, raising her arms above her head. He pulled her shirt off, tossing it to the side.
From that moment, it was a frenzy of mouths, hot breath and tongues. Hermione's bra was off within seconds, and she had Draco's shirt unbuttoned and tossed to the floor soon after. Hermione could feel Draco's length against her body, and his obvious desire only fueled her own. Her fingers tugged at the clasp of his jeans, and he reached to help her, his hands shaking as pulled the zipper down. He stood slightly, wriggling out of his pants and letting them pool onto the floor. Hermione undid her own jeans, and Draco pulled them off her body quickly.
He hooked a finger around Hermione's panties, pulling them down her legs slowly. She kicked them off the rest of the way, eyeing Draco's green boxers expectantly. He pulled them down, freeing his member, and climbed back on top of her, threading one hand through her hair, the other resting on her hip.
"This is what you want?" Draco asked hoarsely, and Hermione nodded, biting her lip. She reached down, wrapping a hand around him, guiding him to her entrance.
"This is all I want."
It was all the convincing Draco needed. He slid himself into her, eliciting a gasp from Hermione's lips. She hooked a leg around his hips, lifting herself slightly to allow him a better angle. Draco groaned as he entered her fully, pulling back up again. Hermione relaxed against him, pulling his pelvis back down to meet hers. The tempo of his thrusts increased, and he reached down, tangling his mouth with hers as he moved in and out of her.
Their breathing was harsh, their movements erratic. Neither of them had much experience, but the burning desire had led them to this moment. It was full of passion, but it was also built on desperation. Draco knew he was going to die and when he told Hermione, something inside both of them had broken.
Hermione was the only person Draco had ever had faith in, despite their only meeting twice after Hogwarts. He knew that in a different time, in a different place, and in a world where there was no war, that he and Hermione could have been together. There wasn't anyone else he could imagine being with. He had little time left, that much he knew, and he wanted to spend it with the woman he thought of as the first and only love of his life.
The pent up desire burned intensely as Draco came, his gasps and moans reaching a peak. Both he and Hermione were breathing heavy, both slick with sweat. Draco pulled himself out of her body slowly, feeling the stickiness left behind grow cold with the air of the hotel room. Draco kissed Hermione quickly on the mouth, before laying his head on her chest.
Absentmindedly, she stroked his hair, running her fingers through the sweaty strands. After a few moments, Draco spoke quietly, his voice muffled against her skin.
"I wish we had more time."
Hermione sighed, willing the tears to stay away. "I do too," she admitted, her voice cracking.
"Do you think, that if things were different, that we could be together?" Draco asked. Hermione didn't even need to think.
"I know we could be."
At some point, Hermione drifted off to sleep. She had fitful dreams, all involving Draco's death. She awoke early in the morning; the sun was just peeking through the blinds.
It only took her a second to realize that Draco was gone. His clothes had been picked up off the floor, and even the smell of him had left the room. Had it not been for the dull ache in her pelvis, Hermione would have sworn she imagined the whole thing.
Hermione sat up, thinking about what they had done. It had been sudden, it had been strange, even, but it had felt right. And in a world where nothing felt right and war raged, they had found each other.
"What is the news, sir?" Harry asked, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming. Moody looked at him, drawing in a deep breath.
"There was an inside attack. Voldemort's followers turned on their own members. The Malfoy family is dead."
There was silence for a millisecond, before the members of the Order burst into celebration. There were hugs, cheers and even happy tears from some. The Malfoy family had been Voldemort's main supporters and allies, and now, they were gone.
Amidst the celebration, no one noticed Hermione. Her face had crumbled, her eyes filling with tears. She had hoped that Draco had not been killed; she had not heard anything since she had seen him three months earlier. But now, this "good news" had come, and Draco was dead.
No one saw as Hermione got up from the table and left the room on shaky legs, stopping in the hallway to lean against the wall. She let a wail of anguish escape her, and she collapsed onto the floor, sobs overtaking her.
She had realized that morning at the hotel that she loved Draco Malfoy. She did not know how it had happened, and she did not know why, but she knew that somehow she had fallen for him. They had been together for less than a day over the course of three years, and yet, she knew there was no one else. Maybe she had always subconsciously known, and just not accepted it.
He was dead and he would never know. He would never know that in the midst of passion, a small detail had been forgotten. He would never know that Hermione, crumbled on the floor outside a celebration, was three months pregnant with his child.
The Malfoys were dead. It was good news, Moody had said.
Good news for all but one.
I'm not crying, there has just been something in both of my eyes for the last hour… aside from it being sad, this was fun to write, and a nice break from my Sirius x Hermione story (check it out!) Thanks for reading!