Author's Note: The HP Universe does not and never will belong to me. Characters are property of J.K. Rowling.
My muse decided to peek her head out again. It's rare, but it does happen sometimes! This time, she decided she wanted to play with a bit of Hermione and Draco. This fic is set in the future, Post-War. I hope you enjoy.
Constructive criticism and reviews welcome. No one learns from flames- if you don't like it, don't read it.
Did you know, the first time I saw you, I thought you the Devil come to walk the Earth? After all, Lucifer was the brightest and most beautiful of God's angels, his favorite. And you, with you silvery-blonde hair, pale skin and piercing eyes- you could be his incarnate come to wreck havoc.
It turns out I wasn't all that far off base. You did wreck havoc. Just not the kind I expected.
I was always the quiet one. The studious one. The bookworm. I was knowledgeable and a teacher's pet. Respectful to elders and yet knew when to stand my ground. I never classified myself as 'pretty' or 'beautiful'. I wasn't a girly-girl. In fact, most of my fellow female students had no idea how to treat me, because I spent the bulk of my time alone with books or with my boys.
Oh, my boys. How you tormented them, endlessly. From the moment Harry rejected you upon meeting you to this very day, you never let up on teasing him and Ron every chance you could get. Part of it was childish- but that's exactly what we were, isn't it? Children. Later on, it became harder, colder, crueler. Nowadays it's a bit more lighthearted and good natured, meant with no ill will... But it was nothing compared to how you treated me.
We know... I know... now, that it wasn't your fault. It was how you were raised. It was drilled into you from the moment you were born- that blood status mattered and I, and others like me, were a stain to the pureblood and magical world. I was something that shouldn't be, a disgrace. Something that, according to most purebloods and especially Voldemort, should be eradicated. For the first few years, you never let me forget my 'place' in 'your' world. You hurled every insult possible at me, from minor comments regarding my looks- I won't argue, my hair was atrocious back then, I know that now as well- to my 'perfect little student' status among the teachers, to my house and of course, to my bloodline.
I won't lie. Your words... they hurt. They ripped and tore at me, though I often didn't show it. I pretended to not hear you most of the time, unless it came to Harry or Ron, or both. There was many a night that I would end up in tears from the stress of holding in my pain all day, and no one was the wiser. I often think that McGonagall and Dumbledore knew, perhaps even Snape, and in their own little ways tried to make it easier for me. I was a target, though there were others like me in the school- simply because I stood up to you and was part of the infamous "Golden Trio".
But something changed along the way. I'm not sure exactly when it was. Perhaps when I finally had the gall and punched you? I will admit, that felt good, though I do sometimes regret unleashing my anger in that way. Was it when everyone realized that the rumors were true- Voldemort had returned? Or was it something else?
All I know is while your words remained hurtful, the bite that had once been behind them wasn't there anymore. You seemed haunted and more often than not didn't bother to comment anymore. Partially, I was relieved. But another part of me wondered what was wrong, what had happened to change you. There was many a time I would look at you, study you- try and see what was so different now, where the dynamic changed- just to look away before you caught me.
It kept me up at night. It was uncomfortable, sometime, to have thoughts of you in my head. You were my enemy, after all. I shouldn't have been concerned. But the person I am wouldn't allow that. You may have hurt me time and time again- but so does an animal when it's cornered or wounded. I found myself fighting myself- finding ways to try and see if the gap could be bridged, to make myself point out one good thing about you for every time you made a snide comment. It was a challenge, I won't lie- you were a prat. Trying to come up with good things about you was difficult, but worth it. I saw you through a different light.
Then our world came crashing in. Lines were drawn, even if we didn't want to be standing on our respective sides. Students were pitted against one another and faculty. Harry, Ron and I... We were forced to run, to hunt for horacruxes and to hide. To try and solve the puzzle and not get killed. We didn't know what was happening to anyone in the school or our families but oh, how I prayed. Yes, even for you. We may have been enemies, but I had the horrible feeling you weren't given a choice when it came to Dumbledore, when it came to which side of the line to stand of.
Years later, I know I was right.
I found, between our harried days and long nights, wondering about the differences between us- a muggle-born and a pureblood. I found myself playing back a lot of muggle history, and wondering if Voldemort actually got some of his ideas from muggle dictators. It did seem like it- I mean, if you looked at Hilter and compared him to Voldemort... It was eerily similar. But why would a pureblood know this? You didn't study muggle history. I often wondered how much of muggle history the wizarding world was aware of, or if you were ignorant of it and how potentially dangerous that was.
I think the day that changed it all for me, that made me truly realize that you weren't the person you pretended to be was that day... The day at the Manor. Your house. Now a base for Voldemort to use until the final battle to take over Hogwarts. Laying there, on the floor, with Bellatrix sitting on me. Her spittle in my face, her eyes wild and crazed as she quizzed me, tested me, tortured me. Your parents stood by, not moving to help nor hinder, though through my pain it almost looked like they felt a little ill at the proceedings. And you... the pure horror on your face that you were trying to valiantly to hide, watching as your aunt sliced into my arm, proclaiming what I was for everyone to see- a Mudblood. The screams I couldn't control, the tears, the pain. It took everything in my power to not cry your name, or Harry's, or Ron's- knowing, just knowing, it would cause everything to be so much worse.
That day changed me, broke me, destroyed things in me that I will never get back.
The battle for Hogwarts is where it all came to a head. Maybe not the battle, but afterwards. After Harry used your wand to kill Voldemort. You know, I hadn't even realized he had your wand for the longest time? I didn't know then that you had done it on purpose. You were a crucial part as to how and why we survived. I was relieved when you were allowed to walk- though, under probation.
The war changed us all. Suddenly, blood status didn't quite matter anymore. Rebuilding our homes and our school, pulling together with our families- that was. That opened doors for us in new ways.
It took a while, but I think Harry was the first to approach you. Or you, him. I'm not 100% sure. All I know is you two talked one day, for a long, long time. And when Harry came home that day, he looked like he both had the world on his shoulders and yet was so relieved, so happy. He had expressed that we should each sit with you. That you had something to say, that you needed to be heard. So we did, despite our initial wariness.
Ron went first. We don't really discuss what any of us spoke about with you. It remains a secret between each of us. All I know is with Ron, things got better. You began coming over to the Weasley's house. Molly welcomed you with open arms and forgave you for what you had done. She was a mother, she knew your parents and how they were- she understood. You became almost like another son, another brother in that household. You mourned with them over the loss of Fred. You took to helping George through the staggering loss. You taught Ginny tricks with the broom even she didn't know. You had matches with Ron. You sat with Arthur and just talked. It took time, but you healed that wound.
You moved in with Harry for a bit. You sat and talked with Harry for hours, for days. You helped each other understand the opposite person's view- what had happened. Harry told you stories about Sirus, about Tonks and Remus. He introduced you to Teddy. I was there for that day- watching your face light up as you held the babe was pure wonder. Harry taught you about the muggle world, muggle history. His aunt and uncle. You told him stories about Snape. You exchanged horrors of growing up in your separate but similar situations.
Then it was my turn. I admit, that day, I stood outside on the porch, shaking with nerves. It was one thing to see you at a meeting or in passing. But to speak to you one on one? That was a completely different story.
You shocked me. You had opened the door for me, wearing a heather gray shirt and muggle jeans, barefoot. Your hair had grown- it was shaggy, falling in your eyes- but that's what caught me. The look in your eyes. I had seen condescending. I had seen cruel, hatred, fear and anger. But I had never seen this- sorrow. You had known I was coming, of course, and from what you told me, hadn't slept but sat up, trying to figure out how to word what you wanted to say to me. How to get it all out.
You apologized. You apologized to me for everything- from calling me horrible names in school, picking on me, to allowing others to pick on me. For not defending me. For, in your head, being envious of me. You started to apologize for the Manor and your voice cracked. I sat, trembling, tearing, listening to you. I had been prepared to hear your confession, not an apology. You gently took my arm, your eyes seeking my approval to touch me and ran your fingers over the now-scarred skin. Your fingers shook- I could feel it. You apologized, silent tears dripping from your eyes, for not standing up for me that day- for not stopping your aunt. For being frozen. You spoke about how you thought I was otherworldly brave and beautiful and how so, so sorry you were for how much of a horrible person you had been. We ended up crying together that day. Two broken hearts, two broken souls that were still jagged and torn despite the love and family we had.
It could have been then, it could have been later, it could have been much before this for all I know, but something clicked in me. I couldn't look at you the same way anymore. We both knew each other's souls were damaged. We ended up having several more discussions. You started coming to the therapy Harry, Ron, myself and many others were receiving. We all knew each other still suffered from nightmares, some worse than others. We all had memories, but we were all making our way forward.
You became somewhat of a regular fixture in our lives, but in a much better way. Outings to both the wizard and muggle world. We four- five with Ginny, when she came- shared with each other things of our worlds and each other. We learned. We went back to Hogwarts, to not only help rebuild, but to continue our education and assist those younger students who were allowed to return as well. We promoted inner-house unity, leading by example. Harry and Ron went on to work on becoming Aurors. Ginny was given a spot playing Quidditch. George opened another branch of their store, in honor of Fred. You and I continued to assist at both Hogwarts and the Ministry.
I'm not sure when we started seeing each other more romantically, or if it just blossomed overnight. Either way, I wouldn't change it for the world. When we first kissed... It was so sweet. You were so hesitant, and I, unsure. The lightest brush of lips turned into a fierce thirst that could not be quenched. You were so careful - you treated me like I was porcelain that might break in your hands. The look in your eyes made me want to cry- as if you were in wonderment of me, as if you were in awe and amazement that someone could even possibly want you back after what you had done. But I did. Oh, how I did.
Harry and Ron understood. I think they knew before me, to be honest. Ginny definitely did- she made it very clear to me that she saw it coming for miles. Molly was overjoyed. We spoke to your mother- who, despite it all, was actually happy her son had found someone.
The wedding was a small affair, but it was the most beautiful wedding I could have asked for. I still, to this day, cannot thank the Weasleys, your mother and Harry enough for pulling it off- making it so we weren't in the public eye and forced to have a big to-do. I can easily recall you looking utterly devastatingly handsome in your dress robes. My dress of gauzey white and pearls. The wizard binding us, our promises to each other, our families rejoicing. Getting lost in the magic of the night and the overwhelming love from our friends and family. If I didn't know magic existed, I would have sworn it did that night- and every day since.
Look at us now, my darling, my love, my dragon. Look at where we've been and where we are yet to go. Look at what stories we have to tell our children when they grow. Look at the world we've helped bring about.
Who would have thought the Slytherin Prince would end up with the insufferable Gryffindor know-it-all?
I wouldn't change it for the world.
I love you, Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy put down the letter, written in a delicate hand, found in his most recent novel. Standing, he made his way down the hall to where he could hear gentle singing. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched his wife as his wife swayed, rocking their youngest child to sleep, their older one tucked in and passed out for the night. He smiled softly at the sight, his heart swelling at the picture his family made. His family- his wonderful little world. Crossing to come up behind his wife, he gently placed his hands on her hips, looking over her shoulder at the tiny golden haired babe in her arms.
Hermione Malfoy turned and smiled at her husband, her heart. Her hazel eyes softened and lit as they caught the proud look in his.
"She's out like a light" He murmured as Hermione moved to put the babe in her cradle. Hermione nodded. "She was tired tonight, I think her daddy wore her out today."
Draco smirked, and took his wife's hand, leading her to the door. They paused to look over their children before quietly closing the door almost all the way.
Headed to their own bedroom, Draco sat on the bed and watched quietly, contemplatively, as Hermione prepared for bed. He watched as she let down her hair to tumble down her back, now falling in more controlled honey brown waves to her mid back. Changed into her negligee, she turned back to him and he reached out a hand. Gently taking her hands, he looked at the woman who had wrought such changes in him.
"When did you sneak that wonderful, if albeit painful at times, letter into my novel?" He inquired.
Hermione giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Found that, did you?" She asked lightly. "I was wondering if you did. I took a moment when you were out with the girls today."
Draco tugged her down for a proper kiss, conveying what he often felt words didn't do justice for. Pulling back, he smiled at her, completely unguarded and finally free.
"I love you too, Hermione Ann Malfoy. I wouldn't change that for the world."