Author's note: This is a post Battle of Hogwarts AU. It's compliant through DH, minus the death of Bellatrix and the epilogue. It can be dark at times, so if you're uncomfortable with rape, dub-con, blood, self-harm, depression and character death then this isn't for you. Please be kind to yourselves!

This is my first fic so please leave comments! I don't have a beta, so if you notice something absolutely unforgivable, let me know.

I don't own any Harry Potter characters!


Prologue

May 1998

Hogwarts

The battle was over.

Voldemort was dead, his cold and lifeless body displayed on a table in the dining hall. A silent circle had formed around the corpse, watching over the remains of the evil wizard, though none ventured too close. Hermione Granger was one of them. Each person had their own reason for their morbid observance. Hermione's thought process was unclear, even to herself. She wanted to see the monster up close and without fear; she wanted to watch the stillness in his chest to make sure he was truly dead; she wanted to prove to herself that she could move forward with her life, make a new start, and that her friends would have the same opportunity. And really, there was nothing else for her to do.

Harry was asleep in his old bed in the Gryffindor Tower dorms. Neville and Hermione had supported him up the stairs when he had collapsed in the Great Hall. Madame Pomfrey had declared him exhausted, both physically and magically, but well enough considering what he had just been through. After tucking him under the sheets and gently removing his glasses, Hermione had pressed a kiss to his forehead and allowed herself to feel grateful that her best friend was alive, while her greatest enemy was dead.

Ron was grieving with his family near the corpse of Fred. They were huddled together in a large group, George at its center. Their anguish was palpable. Hermione had hovered outside the circle for a minute, unsure of what to do, and uncomfortable that she didn't feel the same despair. She was terribly upset by Fred's death, but not any more so than by the death of Lupin or Tonks. She had lost her parents, but it was a loss of her own choosing, and they were still alive and safe somewhere in Australia. The family didn't need her, and she felt uncomfortable witnessing such endless grief, the depth and breadth of which she could not truly understand.

If she was being honest with herself, Hermione felt a bit lost. She was in a daze, the adrenaline from the fight long since gone, but her mind unable rest. She felt the sting of a few shallow cuts, and the ache of bruised and over-used muscle. Her left shoulder was most certainly sprained. The fingers still gripping her wand were weary, but she took comfort in the familiar sensation, unwilling to relinquish her hold in case this was all a dream. Staring at the pale and unmoving corpse of Lord Voldemort, Hermione fought the desire turn the dining table into a funeral pyre- just to be sure.

Unable to stand the sight of the monster before her any longer, Hermione turned away and found herself face to face with a young Hufflepuff girl. Jane Trevors? Travers?

"You should eat," the girl said, her big eyes filled with compassion. She held a basket filled with various fruits and a bit of bread. When Hermione only looked at her without moving, the girl pressed a large orange and an apple into Hermione's hands. "Eat. You'll feel better." The girl walked to the next hapless and dazed student, leaving Hermione staring at the fruit in her grasp, perplexed. Her mind was trying to form a coherent plan of action. The wand would have to be put away. Should she sit and eat? Stay standing? Apple first, or orange? Throw them to the floor and continue doing- what?

She was clearly in shock, she decided in a detached way, and the thought of eating anything made her stomach roil.

That was when she spotted the Malfoys. They sat huddled in a corner, the shadows of the setting sun providing them some anonymity. Only those seated closest to the family could see them clearly and those few were throwing them furious glares. Hermione wondered what they were still doing at Hogwarts. The battle had ended hours ago. She could see Draco Malfoy's dirty face from where she stood. He looked as dazed as she felt.

That distant gaze turned questioning, then disbelieving, then faintly fearful as she approached. The elder Malfoys both reached subtly for their wands, which neither of them possessed, but Hermione held her hands up, filled with fruit, in order to reassure them. She had no violent intentions towards them. Whatever their choices had been up to the final battle, they had not fired a single curse for the duration. Instead, they had run into the fray, wandless, searching desperately for their son. Hermione admired their loyalty to their family, if nothing else. The younger Malfoy had kept Hermione and her friends from Voldemort's grasp at the Manor by lying for them. And now that the war was over, she had little desire to further old enmities. There was a voice at the back of her mind questioning her actions. Why should she care if they were alone and uncomfortable? It didn't matter. She had something to do.

Lucius Malfoy looked at the apple outstretched in Hermione's hand as if it were a snake. After a moment, Narcissa reached out and took it with a nod of thanks. Hermione made a shooing motion at Draco Malfoy, which he correctly interpreted by scooting over. He looked utterly bewildered by her behavior, and if she had been more in control of her own mind, she would have found the situation just as puzzling. As it was, she sat down, peeled the orange, then broke it in half, offering one side of it to the boy next to her. There was not much room on the bit of rubble they shared, so he and Hermione ended up with one side of their bodies pressed together as they ate in silence.

The angry glances of the people around them turned disbelieving. Hermione wanted to smirk. She had no illusions about any future interactions with the Malfoys. They would land on their feet, and return to the pinnacle of Wizarding Society. Hermione would finish her schooling, and do her best to make the world a better place. When they passed in the halls of the Ministry, Draco Malfoy would not stop and ask her about her life, and she would not send him a card at Christmas. But perhaps they would nod to each other politely, and remember a time before the war ended, when they had hated each other for reasons that no longer mattered. It had to start somewhere. Maybe that moment was this moment, when she publicly shared food with her former enemies in hope of a better future.

The orange was gone, the curious eyes of their observers had found other things to occupy, and Hermione was suddenly consumed by the need to sleep. She wondered if she could make it to the Gryffindor Tower. When she stood up on unsteady legs, she found Draco Malfoy standing next to her with a steadying hand on her arm. A well-mannered product of his upbringing, she supposed. Narcissa stood as well, and inclined her head regally.

"You should rest," the woman told her. "Draco can escort you back to your dorm."

Weariness was tugging at her limbs. "That's not necessary," Hermione replied, her voice rough. She gave them a tight smile and tottered away, determined to find a real bed before she collapsed.

"Do you think she understands the significance of what she just did?" Narcissa Malfoy asked her son when the Muggle-Born was well away. Nobody seemed bothered by their presence any longer, as if the tacit acceptance of Hermione Granger was enough to put their collective minds at ease. Kingsley Shacklebolt was watching them closely, as was Arthur Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall. The future leaders of their world had witnessed the entire exchange.

"I doubt it," Draco responded, watching Granger's curly head disappear from the Hall. The girl had the power to imprison them with her testimony, to socially destroy them with a word, but instead, she had publicly declared her support for a family that had been responsible for much of her pain. Whether she knew it or not, Hermione Granger had just saved them. "I don't think she's capable of cold-blooded political manipulations."

"We are in debt to that girl," Narcissa declared.

Lucius scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"We will repay the debt when we are able," Draco decided as if his father hadn't spoken. "And in full."

Neither of them could have predicted the change that swept across Wizarding Britain, or just how complicated their account with Hermione Granger would become.


Chapter One: To Rescue A Snake

September, 1998

12 Grimmauld Place

The Floo roared to life and Percy stumbled out.

"They've killed nearly everyone," he gasped. "The Aurors are being pushed back."

"So the Ministry has fallen again," Kingsley closed his eyes.

"We never really got it back, did we?" Harry was slumped in his chair. "I should have been there! I could have helped."

"It's a slaughter Harry." Percy was shaking. "We were so outnumbered. We didn't expect so much resistance."

"I still don't understand how she survived." Hermione felt the panic rising in her chest. This was supposed to be over. They had won. Hadn't they?

Arthur helped his son to a chair. "We just didn't move fast enough to clear out the Death Eaters still in positions of power. We thought they would disappear after the Battle."

"Guess they had an inkling their new leader wasn't really dead." Ron was picking at his food. "So what to do we do now?"

"We keep fighting."


Malfoy Manor was heavily warded. Hermione and her team Apparated just outside the family's protections, for they had to wait for the heir himself to allow them through. She spotted him walking towards the wrought iron entrance a few moments after they arrived, his strides purposeful, but not hurried. The fact that he had not been waiting for them was irritating, but watching him lope carelessly across the white gravel of his front walk, as if his rescue squad wasn't out in the open and exposed to attack, was infuriating.

Take your time, you arrogant arsehole, she silently fumed. It was like seeing a ghost from her memories take form and dance around. He was taller, his shoulders were wider, but his pointy, pale ferret face was exactly the same.

"This is fucking surreal," Seamus muttered as Malfoy drew closer. "No matter what Shacklebolt says, I just can't believe that twat's been working for us the whole time."

"If you say that one more time, I'll hex your bollocks off," Oliver swore.

"He's certainly not in a hurry," Luna observed.

The gate didn't open so much as turn to smoke as Malfoy walked through it, reforming when he had passed.

"It's safe to pass through now. Get inside," he snapped. Two seconds and he was already acting like an arse, as if they hadn't been waiting on him the whole time. She had only taken a single step when they were ambushed.

The first hex hit Seamus's left shoulder, spinning him around. Hermione and Luna ducked instinctively, letting several bolts of sinister magic fly over their heads. The wards absorbed the bolts with a loud crack, shooting white sparks into the air. Oliver had an unconscious Seamus under his arms and was dragging him through the gates as Luna followed, covering them with a protego maxima charm. Three red-cloaked wizards belonging to the Legion of Blood stepped out from the trees, and Hermione started slamming them with curses, throwing as many as possible to keep them busy. A stinging jinx slapped her leg, immediately causing welts under her trousers. A mild repulsing charm blew past her ear, causing her head to ring. No Unforgiveables. No particularly violent curses. They were wanted alive.

A hand clamped down on her arm and yanked her back. She was reaching for the knife at her belt when she looked up into the face of Draco Malfoy.

"Move it, Granger," he shouted, casting curses at the enemy over her shoulder. She quickly shook his hand off.

With one last look at their attackers, she sprinted through the wards, feeling the cold magic slide across her face and arms. Malfoy was directly behind her. She could see Luna and Oliver just ahead, levitating Seamus into the house. The three Legion soldiers continued to shoot magic at the gates.

"How did they know we were coming?" she huffed, out of breath. She was having a hard time keeping pace with his long stride. Her leg burned horribly.

He shook his head angrily. "I'm guessing Bellatrix set up alarms around the property to alert them to Apparitions."

"So I suppose your secret's out," she muttered. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Will the wards hold?" she asked.

"An hour, perhaps," he answered. "Less, depending on how many wands show up over the next few minutes."

They caught up to Luna and Oliver in the massive foyer. Hermione looked Seamus over for signs of injury while he floated gently. No blood, no bruises; alive, but unconscious.

"What hit him?" she asked Oliver.

He shook his head, "I'm not sure."

"A sleeping jinx, I think," Luna offered. "It was blue and sparkly. And they obviously wanted us alive."

"Let's hope it's as simple as that."

"You can take him to the library," Malfoy said. "Follow me."

It was like having an out of body experience. There was an indescribable strangeness about her old enemy calmly leading her through his home, the home in which she had been held captive nearly a decade ago. When Kingsley Shacklebolt, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and the only true Minister of Magic, had summoned her a few days ago for a mission to extract a spy, she had shrugged and appeared as requested. When he explained that the spy was Draco Malfoy, she had gaped at him. When he further explained that the man had requested to be a spy for the Order seven years ago, Hermione had been dumbfounded.

She had known him as a self-satisfied prick, a prejudiced arsehole who had tormented her and her best friends for years. The Malfoys were a family made up entirely of blood purists, and had been for as long as such a thing had existed. He had conspired to kill Dumbledore, and let cold-blooded killers into the school to torture children. There had been a brief moment at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts when Hermione had been ready to forgive the Malfoys and move on, but then they had run back to the darkness the moment Bellatrix had reappeared. Now she had to rearrange her mind to accommodate a Draco Malfoy who had worked for the Order in secret the whole time. It was all very unsettling.

Almost as confounding as Malfoy fighting for the Order was the scene that greeted her when she entered the library: there were five people seated in very expensive furniture around a lovely table, taking tea next to a crackling fire.

"What the bloody buggering hell?" Hermione heard the exclamation fall from her mouth as she stopped short.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini stood up to assist Malfoy as he attempted to clear a huge marble desk for Seamus's levitating body, removing the items one at a time and setting them gently on the floor. Luna watched the process for precisely fifteen seconds before sweeping her wand over it and sending everything crashing to the floor. The men sighed in resignation and tried not to step on the remnants of the Malfoy's escritoire. Pansy Parkinson and an older woman who could only be her mother screeched at the mess.

"There was a seventeenth century vase on that desk!" Mrs. Parkinson objected.

"Sixteenth century, in fact," Narcissa Malfoy corrected her, seemingly unconcerned as she sipped her tea.

"Throwing yourself a bon voyage party, Malfoy?" Hermione was furious. She thought she might know why this group of former Slytherins were waiting for them so serenely, but she wanted Malfoy to admit that he was trying to foist his friends and family off on the Order.

"Don't pretend to be an idiot Granger," he quipped, kicking pieces of broken clock under the desk. "They're coming with me."

There was a split second when she prayed he was joking.

"Have you gone mad?" She could hear her voice getting high pitched with strain. Blaise and Theodore retreated to the sitting area. The tea service had resumed, as if there weren't dozens of Legionnaires outside systematically dismantling the manor's protections. "Five more people? These were not the terms of you extraction."

"I've changed the terms."

"You've—" Her anger choked her. The sensation of tightly leashed magical rage danced across her spine.

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow contemptuously. "You've got sparks shooting from your hair."

"Stop upsetting her, dear," Narcissa said from her throne.

Hermione was asleep and this was all a nightmare. It was the only logical explanation.

"We can't take them all back to Base, Captain." Oliver was idly spinning his wand across his palm and taking a casual stance in front of his unconscious friend.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," she spat out.

"Stun Malfoy and let's go," Luna suggested, eyeballing Narcissa, who continued to sip her tea.

Hermione aimed her wand at Malfoy's throat.

"I only came for you," she hissed at him. "Don't make this difficult."

"I knew it," Theodore Nott hissed. "You owe me fifty galleons, Blaise."

"She hasn't left us yet," Zabini objected.

There was a percussive noise that sounded like cracking granite and shook the walls.

"That'll be the wards," Blaise murmured, standing.

"We all go, or none of us do." Malfoy was suddenly very serious. There was danger rolling off him as he fingered his wand. Luna shuffled forward until Hermione felt the woman's presence at her back. Seamus stopped playing with his wand and stood taller.

"I don't take orders from you," Hermione snapped.

That was when the glass in the library windows shattered, and they were all accosted by sharp and glittering shards.

"Well, I suppose tea time is over," Mrs. Parkinson sniffed, gingerly setting her cup down upon the crushed glass littering the antique coffee table.

Narcissa stood and approached Hermione, her hands held out passively. "I would appreciate it greatly if you would allow us to accompany you, Miss Granger."

Malfoy frowned, looking from his mother to the woman she had just so casually addressed. Hermione studied the woman she hadn't seen in five years. She looked a bit older, and much more tired. Narcissa Malfoy would never look anything less than regal and cold, but as she stood in her partially destroyed family library, there was a shadow of fear around her eyes.

"Will I have paid my debt?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth as she felt something like shame wriggle in her gut.

"You have no debt to me," Narcissa answered. "I am asking as a mother and as a close friend of these people, who have all risked themselves at one time or another to benefit the Order."

When Hermione flew away from the Lestrange Mansion on a broomstick five years ago, she never thought she would see this woman again. Unwilling to think about the possibility that she might, in truth, owe Narcissa Malfoy her life, and aware that their enemies were quite literally at the gates, she made her decision.

"You three don't have wands," she observed, speaking to the women in the room. "They've got the trace on them?"

Narcissa nodded. "We destroyed them this morning."

"I don't know what the bloody hell is going on here, but we don't have time for chit chat," Malfoy snarled. "Are we leaving or not?"

"You three, destroy your wands immediately." The men at whom she had growled broke their wands. They both looked a bit green as Malfoy collected them.

"We'll have to side-along." Hermione spoke to her team. "Goose Chase before 'Keying to the safe house. Keep your tails clean."

Both conscious members of her strike team stood, immobile. Oliver looked almost mutinous, and Luna was glaring at Narcissa. The library door splintered. They were inside the Manor.

"Move!" she barked.

Oliver tossed Seamus over his shoulder, grabbed Pansy Parkinson and Disapparated immediately. Luna took a hold of Mrs. Parkinson and Theodore and jerked her head at Blaise. He took the hint and planted his hand firmly on her arm.

"Don't worry," Luna said dreamily, but with a glint of menace in her eye. "I hardly ever splinch my side-alongs."

Mrs. Parkinson let out a terrified squeal before they disappeared.

A flock of red and green curses flew through the broken windows and the room exploded in a storm of parchment and book pages. The whole room then promptly caught fire. Malfoy threw the broken wands into the flames. The door flew off the wall, destroying the lovely marble desk on which Seamus had slept. What a waste of a beautiful library, Hermione thought as she grabbed Narcissa's arm and reached for Malfoy. She Disapparated the instant his fingers closed around hers.

Hermione was fairly certain her group had escaped a tail, but she very diligently cracked in and out at six different locations before stopping on a hillside in Ireland. She and her parents had stayed in the village below when they backpacked the summer between second and third year. It was remote, with only goats as witnesses to the haggard witches and wizard blinking out of thin air. Her hands were shaking.

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow at her obvious fatigue, as if side-along Apparition with two people over six locations was easy.

"You're injured." He pointed to her leg, where the irritated and bubbling flesh could be seen through a small tear in the fabric.

"Very astute," she snapped. She wanted a salve and a nap. Springing five possibly dangerous people on her was just the right thing to put her in a foul mood. She spotted the bright green bottle half buried in the side of the hill.

"Any reason we had to endure that lovely romp through bloody all of Britain?"

"We don't keep our Portkeys on us in case we're captured," Hermione answered, pulling the bottle out of the ground. "If they managed to cast a revelio specialis on the spot where we Disapparated, they can sometimes see the intended location. It's hard to do, and they have to be in pretty close proximity, but it occurred frequently enough that we had to adapt. If we quickly hop around to enough places, we can usually confuse the spell."

"Is that how you avoid it?" Of course he knew about their methods, but it was still strange having a conversation about fairly secret intelligence with someone who had a Dark Mark burned into his arm.

"It must be exhausting," Narcissa commented, brushing her travel-mussed blonde hair out of her face.

The Portkey was a ball-point pen that refused to slide out of the glass bottle in which she had placed it hours ago. She could feel the stares of the Malfoys burning through her neck. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Grabbing it round the neck, she brought it down onto a nearby rock, shattering the glass. Their fingers overlapped hers as they took a hold of the pen.

"Portus," she whispered.

Hermione had never grown accustomed to the sickening sensation of being grabbed behind her navel with an invisible hook and yanked through space. Her vision blurred and swirled, and then she was standing inside a tool shed. It was dark. She dodged around the lawn mower she knew from experience was on the floor. Behind her, she heard Malfoy curse when he tripped on it. Swinging the door open, she stalked into the overgrown yard, not caring if they followed her. They did.

Oliver was waiting for them on the porch.

"Started to get worried." He was chewing on a piece of wheatgrass.

"Get inside," she ground out as she passed him.

Hermione spoke into the tip of her wand, sending her Patronus to Shacklebolt with an update on what had happened. She knew he was going to be furious, but she hoped he would see that she had made the best decision under the circumstances. He hadn't told her why Malfoy needed to be removed from his home and brought under the protection of the Order, but risking five operatives to bring in one man was out of the ordinary. Malfoy was important.

Seamus had been settled in a room upstairs. When Hermione joined them, she learned that Luna had cast a revealing spell and found that he had indeed been hit with a sleeping charm. Relief swept through her. The Order couldn't afford to lose a single talented soldier, no matter how big his mouth. Luna and Hermione left Seamus to recover and joined Oliver downstairs where he was glaring at the surprise additions. They had gathered in the kitchen, patiently waiting for instructions.

"You are all now captives of the Order of the Phoenix," Hermione began without preamble. "Until you undergo a Veritaserum interrogation, you will not be allowed to leave the safe house. If you pass the interview to my satisfaction, you will be taken to our base where you will submit to a Legilimency exam."

"And if we don't pass your interview?" Pansy wondered.

"Then I'll restrain you and transport you to base as a prisoner."

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Parkinson waved impatiently. "But where are we sleeping tonight? Surely not in this hovel?"

There was a moment of silence in which Hermione managed to tamp down her disbelief. The look of utter despondency on the woman's face which followed the silence helped immeasurably.

"Do try to keep up mother," Pansy snapped.

"You'll have a bed upstairs," Hermione told her. "Which you will have to share with your daughter. There are only four rooms. You'll all have to share."

Mrs. Parkinson paled.

"Regretting your insistence to come along, Persia?" Narcissa inquired sweetly.

Once the small wounds sustained during the rescue had been treated and Oliver had assigned rooms and rations, he attempted to explain such Muggle oddities as electricity, plumbing, and television.

"No magic here, I'm afraid. Though I don't imagine we'll have to worry about that, seeing as you have no wands." Oliver grinned as Theodore Nott bristled. "We want to blend in," Oliver continued. "The magic does go pear shaped when it's around electricity. Don't want a walking, talking toaster wandering into the street and giving us away."

Only Pansy Parkinson showed an interest in the Muggle technology, and only with regard to the coffee maker.

"If I can't have coffee I will kill someone," she said, fingering the now healing cut she had sustained on her cheek. "It would be a shame to endure such a flawless rescue, only to end up chained in a dungeon."

Hermione was absolutely certain she was being insulted.