Chapter 1: The Way Things Were

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the world, or even the trope!

The day Hermione Granger boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time was the happiest in her young life. There was magic, real magic in the world. All of those times she couldn't explain something with science, the moments in her life when something had not made logical sense, suddenly justified and obvious. It added to her confidence of knowledge. Just when she had started to think logic had failed her, she discovered she simply needed a new perspective.

She knew it would be hard to fit in of course. Having been born in the non-magic world, it would be hard to fit into a new culture. But, she told herself, no more difficult than transitioning to a school in, let's say, another country. She would learn the food and dress in robes and fit right in, no problem.

It hadn't really been as easy as she'd expected. The pureblooded girls were more aristocracy than anything. She imagined they would have made it hard to fit in even if she were not "muggle born". Such a silly phrase, Hermione thinks. Muggle. What kind of childish word is that?

The children with less than stellar lineage were a little kinder but only marginally. That freckly Weasley boy was a right horror to her early on. His friend, Harry, seemed nice enough. But then Harry had a muggle Mum so that made sense. She'd been sorted into Gryffindor house on her first day, though she personally thought the hat had made a mistake.

"Ravenclaw", she'd whispered at it. It scoffed a little, as much as a beat up old hat can scoff inside your head.

"Slytherin, if I'm honest. But I don't know that you'd be as happy there. Mostly purebloods, they are. You've the intellect for Ravenclaw no doubt. But no, there is more, something bold in your old soul. You've not the detached love of knowledge for that house. You wield it instead as a weapon. No I think, all things averaging, it better be...

Gryffindor!"

It had shouted out its verdict and a table of red and gold accessorized students cheered for their new member. She'd blushed a little and tucked her hair behind her ears, seating herself next to a nervous boy who she had met on the train named Neville. He seemed safe enough. Sweet and unassuming, just her speed on a first day.

She met other house members that day. It seemed that nasty Weasley had a score of other siblings. His twin brothers were actually pretty welcoming, though they made her wary. Something about them screamed 'don't take anything they offer'. His brother, Percy she was told, was on his way to making prefect. He seemed a respectable sort so she smiled at him especially bright when introduced and he politely shook her hand. She also met the roguish and aforementioned Harry Potter, who already seemed to have surrounded himself with a little harem of pretty girls.

She roomed with a vapid blonde named "Lavender" of all things but then again, people named after obscure Shakespearean characters probably shouldn't throw stones...

Though no one was overtly unkind, it wasn't until her first day of classes that she started to find a place. The moment she walked into Potions, she knew she had found her first love. The professor, a taciturn man in his early thirties, breezed into the room in a cloak as black as night, his hair tied low at his neck, and proceeded to demean the students in the most dignified and eloquent manner. Hermione nearly could have had a crush on him simply for his lovely grammar, but what really won her heart, was, as her new favourite person said, "the art that is potion making." She took to it brilliantly and her professor offered what she imagined was probably a rare smile.

None of this won her any friends with the Gryffindor crew who seemed to find distaste with overly studious types, but the Slytherins with whom she shared a class seemed to offer her a modicum of respect since Professor Snape was their head of house. By chance, she'd been seated next to a tall boy with dark skin named Blaise. He offered her an impressed and appraising glance when she deftly answered the Professor's questions. To her left, a boy with platinum blond hair and piercing eyes gave her a friendly nod and she looked down to hide her blush.

The troll incident changed everything that year.

She didn't mean to be so sensitive. Usually, Hermione was capable of taking quite a bit in a stride. After all, being a bright student didn't exactly relate to winning popularity contests in the muggle world either. But when that nasty red-headed boy said she was a "nightmare" and mused it was why she had no friends, only to be met by snickers and not one word of protest by her house, she dashed away like the devil was at her heels and decided to award herself a good pity cry.

She would be told later that Harry Potter had noticed she was gone. Though he was mildly concerned, he shrugged and went about his business. It was a Slytherin who overheard the conversation and excused herself to find the lost witch.

Pansy found Hermione with a mildly interested Draco Malfoy on her tail. They'd been friends forever and he refused to let Pansy sneak about on her own. In the end, it was Hermione's perfect Leviosa that took out the troll with his own club, but it was Draco's diversion of the beast that allowed her the opportunity.

When the troll toppled he nearly crushed Hermione had it not been for Draco dragging her out of the way and shielding her with his thin, adolescent frame. She looked up into his face and blushed, whispering "thank you" as a curl fell in front of her eyes.

He pushed it back for her and she was lost.

In the years that followed, the rumblings of war changed the landscape of their relationship. Hermione was relieved to find that the Malfoys, having found Voldemort to be a madman, and not completely successful one, during his first rise, had reformed their opinions on blood purity. Though Narcissa seemed to be disappointed that Draco's new friend was not a part of their usual society, it seemed to be more of a mourning of tradition than a true issue with Hermione in any tangible way. Hermione could understand tradition and worked very hard to make sure she was worth it.

In fourth year, the Tri-Wizard tournament turned Hogwarts into an entirely new experience. Everyone was shocked when the cup called for Neville Longbottom, Hermione's very first sweet friend, to compete in the games. She, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco worked tirelessly to help him crack the codes of each event.

In the middle of all this, the event called for a ball to be held. Pansy was sure Draco was going to ask her. She, Hermione, and Draco had been an inseparable trio for the past 3 and some odd years. But Pansy always assumed when it came down to it, he would choose her. They'd known each other forever and, if she's honest, she had crushed on the blonde boy for nearly as long. Plus, she was pureblood. Though she didn't have anything against her dear friend Hermione, Pansy couldn't help but feel she and Draco just… belonged together.

Before the ball, Pansy had turned down six invitations, holding out for her first choice, only to stumble on Draco and Hermione standing by the Black Lake, their hands held between them in a disgustingly sweet way.

They didn't speak for weeks. At the ball, Hermione managed to tame her wild hair and looked just stupid beautiful and Pansy pouted the night away. Her date ended up being Neville and she wasn't sure who was the "pity date" between them.

When Neville was sent to the bottom of the lake to find the person who meant the most to him, that question was answered for anyone who wondered. He managed to bring Pansy to the surface with his extensive knowledge of herbology and when she woke, shivering, black hair dripping in her face, he hugged her fiercely and she smiled a shy smile into his shoulder. The trio became a quad forever after that.

By the final task, it seemed the Order of the Phoenix decided they'd had enough. Breaking all rules with absolutely no care, the tournament was interrupted and the efforts to which Voldemort had gone to advance his agenda were put to an end. He'd been relatively quiet for some years by this point. Any question that he was gone for good was answered and the Order become a viable part of the Ministry to keep the self-proclaimed Dark Lord in check.

As the Hogwarts years advanced and reached their end, Hermione and Draco solidified their playful crush into young love. The war around them turned their hearts serious and they aged faster than they should. Hermione continued to study with Professor Snape more than some might have considered normal. She likewise became acquainted with Remus Lupin and Harry Potter's father, James. Snape and James had a strange friendship she barely understood. Snape had been childhood friends with James' wife, Lily, who had died when Harry was a young boy, not quite of age to start his Hogwarts education. The two had never liked one another but bonded over her loss and found solace reminiscing together.

After their seventh year, both Hermione and Draco became involved with the Order. The threat of Tom Riddle had felt far away for a time but he seemed to keep coming back until he was impossible to ignore. There was something relentless about the creature and it wasn't until Hermione was a young woman of twenty two was she privy to information as to why.

Horcruxes were a problem. There was no reason he should still be such an issue except that he literally couldn't die. But knowing that, things start to fall into place for The Order and one by one, pieces of a dark wizard's soul scream in anguish when they are destroyed by fire or venom.

The memories continue to come in a blur of platinum hair and secret meetings at the ministry and finally blood on the grassy earth…

Sitting in the middle of a lush green field, Hogwarts looming just behind, she is on her knees, cradling a body, one other laying mere meters away. The other lies still, having taken an Avada from her own wand only moments ago. The rest of the field is nearly bare. Voldemort so kindly allowed them to move their injured and dead before the final confrontation and now you could almost deny the second wizarding war happened in this beautiful place. Her friends, the Order, she assumes have retreated into the castle. There are, after all, other wounded to which they must attend.

She didn't know his name, the other man lying in the dirt. His Death Eater mask rolled away as he fell, but she didn't particularly care in that second nor does she care now as to his identity.

Instead her shaking hands smooth blond hair out of wide grey eyes. His broken words are apologies and laments. "Sorry… forgive me…" over and over. She weeps for him to hush, to never be sorry. There is no need as long as he will just hold on. For her. The forever he promised her isn't lost as long as he will just stay with her. The Dark Lord is vanquished. The terror under which they've lived is finally over and everything will be good again. All he has to do is hold on while she casts healing spell after healing spell, trying to stop the steady flow of bright blood that comes from many… so many places.

Her breath hitches and she feels his hand lay over hers, lowering her wand. The curse keeps his wounds pumping, regardless of how many times she knits the flesh together. More than anything, it just causes pain, each time the skin tears itself open again. He asks her to please stop. Please just hold him until it's over. Please…

Sobbing, she nods and lowers her wand to the ground. She lifts both hands to his pale cheeks and lowers her forehead to lay gently against his, holding his gaze and whispering her love. She thinks he says it back but it's hard to tell. He's so quiet. So still. And she realizes he isn't blinking, isn't breathing. The blood continues to seep from his wounds, draining into the ground around them.

She says "no" to him petulantly. She says "no" and "no" and "no" to him and to herself and screams it and shakes him and collapses into great choking sobs, beating his silent chest.

The young woman looks around at the empty field and then down into Draco Malfoy's beautiful face. Her wand is back in her hand without thinking, coated in her lover's blood, dripping red as her hand shakes. The words come unbidden, the wand movements like a memory. And then the sky is swirling dark and she looks up to see a Centaur looking at her curiously from the edges of the Forbidden Forest. His face is slowly morphing into something she has never seen on any of the stoic creatures' faces.

He is terrified.

Then he breaks his gaze away and looks up at the sky. The night is coming unnaturally fast and the stars above swirl amongst the clouds. She watches as the creature drops slowly to the ground, continuing to gaze overhead. The fear of what she has done comes then but it, like everything else, is numbed in her grief and so she looks back down at her lover's face. The black tumultuous sky is reflected in his eyes until she delicately closes the lids and lays down beside him. She thinks she feels the world ripped away from her and clings to Draco, nuzzling her face into his neck, until she knows nothing else.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

All of these things are true and yet they are false. The only constant being the conclusion. At the end of the memories of Hermione as a battle worn witch of twenty four and then also in the here and now, she is staring in horror at the body of Malfoy.

Draco.

Here, today, Harry is standing over him, helplessly lamenting "I didn't mean to. I didn't know…"

And then, thank Merlin, Snape is there. He is casting a counter curse and glaring at Harry with disdain but Hermione hardly sees any of this. Instead she stares at the blood pooling on the floor and she's sobbing and shaking and repeating "no" softly and she sees clearly for the first time in a lifetime.

When her legs give out, she slumps to the tile, heedless of Snape barking at her to get back to her common room and for Potter to bring some book. None of it matters as she watches a stream of blood, Draco's life, slowly crawl to a center floor drain.

"Ms. Granger I've no time to comfort a weak-minded girl who goes to pieces over the sight of blood. Now get up and get to your common room. Now!"

She looks to him and then back to Draco, his face paling impossibly more. "Severus, do something…" is all she can manage. The surprise on Snape's face is palpable if she'd been in the right mind to notice such a thing.

"Potter, get the book and take Ms. Granger with you. Bring the book to the hospital wing and for the love of Merlin leave that girl there."

"Yes, professor."

She has barely registered the exchange but when Harry takes her arm in an attempt to hoist her up she struggles and looks at him in terror. "I'm not leaving him!"

Harry is puzzled and scared and shocked but he just says, "Professor Snape will take care of him but he has to go to Pomfrey. There's no reason to stay here. C'mon, 'Mione." He tugs again and this time she allows herself to be lifted and wills her numb legs to follow, holding Harry's hand and keeping her eyes on Draco lying on cold tile, bleeding out into the drain.

Her mind is splintered, thoughts barely coherent. When they reach the corridor and the door closes, Hermione panics at the loss of visual on their classmate.

"No! I have to stay with him! Harry, let me go! Let me go!"

He protests and drags her and then she rounds on him, wand drawn and Harry knows real fear from the look on her face. "What did you do to him!?"

"I don't know! I…it was a spell from the…from a book."

Her eyes narrow and dart around as if she is lost in momentary confusion. "The potions book? That bloody book I begged you not to- Oh my God, Harry, what if you've killed him?" Her legs start to give out and then Harry is there holding her up, not really understanding her reaction.

"He'll be fine, Hermione. Snape will take care of him. Let's get you settled in the common room and we'll check on him, yeah?"

She nods, the fight having gone out of her again. Harry finds her to be erratic, nearly manic in her rapid changes. Sliding an arm around her, he begins to lead her down the hall, hoping to get around the corner before Snape emerges with Malfoy, lest it set her off once again. He breathes a sigh when they reach the Fat Lady and she allows them inside.

Ron Weasley looks up from a game of Wizarding chess and immediately approaches the pair. Before he reaches them, Hermione sinks into one of the plush cushioned seats. She mumbling now and Ron exchanges a look with his friend. "Blimey, Harry, what happened to her?"

"It's all changed. It's changed and I did it and it worked and now he's… oh God please no not after… I can't. I can't." Sobs take over them from her incoherent ramblings and Harry shakes his head at his friend.

"I don't know but I'm in trouble Ron. That book, the potion book. I need to borrow yours and I need you to stash the other alright? I've got to get back and I'll fill you in later just…" He looks down at Hermione who has taken to rocking herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just get me the book please and take care of her."

Ron nods and soon Harry has left the room. Awkwardly, Ron sits beside his friend and puts an arm on her shoulder. "'Mione?"

"Ron, I've done something terrible," is all she says before she falls into another round of rattling sobs. They sit that way until Harry returns with a Calming Draught from Pomfrey which Hermione reluctantly drinks, somehow knowing she is of no use to anyone, including herself in her current state.

Once the potion takes effect however, it's like a different girl… a different woman is in front of them. "I've got to speak with Dumbledore," she announces to her friends. Her voice carries authority and suddenly her demeanor is sure and strong. "And I need to see to Draco."

She's up and across room, slipping through the portrait before they can seem to respond.

"What do you reckon all that was about?"

Harry just shakes his head before trudging up the stairs to his dorm, promising himself a long night's sleep.

A/N

Good evening! When my muse abandoned me on First They Came for the Death Eaters while I was pregnant, I played around a bit with a time trope. Originally it was going to be epic. A massive, potentially 200k monster. Unfortunately, one of the hallmarks of a great writer is patience and I just don't have it. So instead I turned it into a bite size short story in 5 parts and they are written. I plan to post one each day or so until it's finished, just taking a moment between updates for one last edit. As always, I work with no beta so I apologize for typos and any other mistakes. I'm hoping a positive response might spur me back into action on my other WIP which is currently a victim of me questioning myself and second guessing where to take it. So here is a writer's standard plea for reviews.

Plea!

Plea!

Thanks for reading!