Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I wish!
Hermione who?
Prologue: Different Worlds
Hogwarts School of witch craft and wizardry was absolutely quiet this night of the year. For this night many of the students were partying, drinking letting passion drive them betwixt sheets with strangers and thanking Merlin that they had survived yet another year in the castle.
For the 7th years however their last night in the castle was more sombre and calm, filled with appreciation for the walls that had sheltered them through their adolescence.
They had gotten drunk and been merry the previous night, together chugging down fire whiskey and butter beer. They had gossiped over the years top couples and who would be the most likely to get married first. They had cheered each other over their scores in their owls and had looked over wizarding photos of their end of year ball.
All in all they thought back loved, laughed and lived, leaving the last night for reflection, of course after they had all taken sobering potions that is.
Out by the dark lake not far from its shores sat the-boy-soon-to-be-a-man-who-lived his arms around his legs his black and untameable hair flicking in the slight breeze. The moon high in the sky bathed him in moonlight as he looked intently upon the lake recalling the significance it had played in making him into the wizard he was.
He had first seen Hogwarts sitting a drift in a boat upon that lake, he had sat astride Buckbeat and flown over the lake the thrill of freedom and exhilaration pumping his blood, and he had rescued Ron during the Tri-wizards from the depths of those waters and more.
It held so many leaps of faith in his life he thought it would only be right for him to shuffle through Hogwarts memories before the black lake, knowing Ron and Hermione would be doing the same for they had all agreed to say goodbye individually and as a group.
Tonight the golden trio were to reminisce by themselves first and come together tomorrow. Together they had taken down the Dark Lord. Harry hadn't thought he would be able to be rid of Voldermort, he knew it had been Ronald and Hermione that had pushed him through and they had been victorious, as a family.
Not far from Harry in the high reaching stands of Gryffindor at the Quidditch pitch Ronald Weasley was found on a bench prostrate. His arms folded beneath his head as his eyes scanned the pitch.
Before he could remember he had grown up to the stories his father had told him of the honour and privilege it would be to fly beneath the Hogwarts flag with the Gryffindor crest emblazoned against your chest as you painted the skies with red and gold.
Sighing contentedly he smiled, looking down at his Gryffindor quidditch uniform with his captain's badge, yep he had definitely accomplished his dreams at Hogwarts.
Getting to his feet he mounted his broom and lazily hovered around the pitch. The only problem this made was that he had to find what he was supposed to do now. He thanked Merlin that the Dark Lord was long gone and dead so that his only option was not being an Auror.
Lastly the last third of the golden trio was not in fact housed away behind the many shelves of the library though she loved the place dearly. She was in a place she had come to love far more, up in the head dorms, not in her room and bed however but in the head boys; Draco Malfoy's.
She was lying nude on her stomach her hands propping up her face as her eyes focused on the shimmering of the moon light over the black lakes surface. Her gloriously wild curls falling past her shoulders as her counter part and head boy pressed his mouth to her left shoulder blade, suckling and scraping.
She fleetingly wondered why after every passionate encounter said head boy would coerce her onto her stomach for him to gnaw and lick at her left shoulder blade like some animal; she imagined he had a fetish. His warm breath wafted over her neck as his toned stomach pressed into the arch of her back.
She sighed, the year's previous events flickering before her minds eye. Ron, Harry and herself standing before Voldermort; bringing him to his knees. Draco Malfoy using her body for self gratification, her letting him.
Receiving the highest OWLS score since Professor Snape. Draco's wedding to Pansy Parkinson occurring in two days. Escaping to Italy with her parents over the summer. Draco's parting gift that lay on her night stand in her room that she couldn't bare to open.
The letters of job offers on her bed that were untouched. Draco blowing against her wet left shoulder blade, one hand in her hair his other drawing patterns on her back. Mentally checking if all her belongings were packed.
Draco rolled away from her and pulled her to him, her head on his chest, his hands buried in her hair. She wondered where Harry and Ron were as the rumbling of Draco's chest purred against her cheek whilst he hummed her favourite lullaby, lulling her into a content sleep.
Draco reverently watched the strand of hair near her mouth rise and fall with her every breath. He had examined all the girls in their year through out his time at Hogwarts; up close, nude and personally. Yet none of them could measure to the rightness that lay beside him at that moment.
Hermione was exquisite in all her perfection and flaws. She would be sorely missed for they would never meet after tomorrow. Pansy was his fate and to be wife, Hermione would marry the weasel or the boy wonder.
He and she were raised on different sides of the magical veil. He was a social elite with one of the highest pedigrees in wizarding society, she was a middle class mudblood with no magical background what so ever and with out an awareness of etiquette.
He was the heir to Luscius, she a stray from muggle London, they came from completely opposite worlds that sought to destroy each other. After kissing her forehead he slept with no delusions at all of the morrow.
It was slightly cloudy yet warm as Draco and Pansy his-new-bride exited their carriage. Dressed in only the best he walked head held high amongst the crowd. Holding at bay all emotion he entered the house he swore he would never set foot in, 12 Grimauld Place, Potters house.
However his ironic sentiment was destroyed the moment he saw her; Hermione. He didn't know what to feel as he examined the pallor of her face, the blush on her cheeks not tricking his acute eyes.
He stiffly watched Potter caress her cheek with his hand before he kissed her forehead. An undefined tightness tugged at his stomach as Weasely's holier than thou speech continued.
Draco's eyes scanned the room, acknowledging the presence of the entire Hogwarts 2008 7th years did not steal his focus as he admitted she looked drop dead gorgeous in her white frock, with white roses in her hands.
Finally standing before her, her expression calm and relaxed he fought off the need to fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Instead he inclined his head and ghosted his lips across her forehead, his salvation expressed in a mere whisper, "I'm sorry Granger." Quickly he strode away, parting the crowd and dragging Pansy along with him.
He could only stomach so much, he didn't have the strength to witness Potter and Weasley smother her light. He'd crack to see her face covered and the earth swallow her whole.
That midday Hermione Jane Granger was buried in Centennial London. She had passed in Italy during a freak plane accident, over the summer.
Draco Malfoy didn't care after all.
On the other side of the ocean in the grand and lavish Bellator Palace the wizardry royal Personne Campana Bellator stumbled out of her bed.
Stretching her arms high above her head and rising on the tips of her toes she sighed before gradually walking to her bathroom. Magicking the lights on, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she leaned toward her mirror.
Not exactly sure at what she was seeing she fingered her hair and poked her eyes. An outraged scream filled the palace as said heiress fainted dead away in awe of the brown of her eyes and the bushiness of her hair.
Author:
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