A/N - inspired by Elantil's 'Flesh & Blood' fiction. Sorry I've been away so long.

I don't own the characters.


Hogwarts was broken, with Voldemort a greasy pile of ashes scattered to ill winds.

Draco Malfoy had sought out the two-thirds of the Golden Trio he could find during the battle, and surrendered, under the condition he could defect. Ron spat on the ground and turned his back, saying no one could trust a Malfoy. Granger merely leveled a measured gaze at him, shrugged, and decided they could use one more wand.

As usual, Hermione Granger's instincts were on-point. That one wand incapacitated both Lucius and Narcissa, distracted Bellatrix just long enough for Molly to destroy her, and froze Fenrir Grayback in his tracks.

It wasn't an unmitigated victory. Pockets of die-hard Death Eaters continued to conduct raids on Muggle towns, and Merlin help any witch or wizard taken by them. Such victims often landed in unmarked graves, their remains too desecrated to identify.

Over the ensuing weeks, Malfoy and Potter had formed a working relationship. Ron still handled strategy, but Draco contributed invaluable insights into Pureblood society, rituals, and the figurative skeletons in his peers' closets. It was Hermione's habit to abstain from their sessions, focusing on ways to answer the questions that always arose. Like Harry, she formed a civil alliance with the Slytherin, but nothing more.

Three months after Malfoy's defection, Potter's recon team ran afoul of a Death Eater squad near Little Whinging. Granger took a nasty curse from Yaxley, and Draco knew he had seconds, at best. He took a breath and pointed his wand at the brunette girl as she gasped in the dirt.

"Adhaerere anima mea!" Dark magic, but for pure reasons. Pain ripped through him as he kept his wand trained on his cohort.

It was enough. Truth be told, he had practiced the spell to the point it even could have worked with Avada Kedavra. It was all in the timing. Strike at the proper moment, and the subject would retain shards of his or her soul. If one was too late, well, zombies could still be useful.

Still, he noticed a distinct lack within. He assessed the Muggleborn, rising to her feet. She regarded him coolly, a raised eyebrow her only inquiry.

"Granger…Potter reminded me one night about my life debt to him. He specifically stated it be paid by helping you."

She blinked and tilted her head, "And you believe this was helping?"

"Better a, erm, changed Granger than none at all."

"Is it?" With that, she turned abruptly and headed for the Apparition point. "Are you coming?"

He followed obediently and kept quiet when they returned. The spell's consequences happened as he expected. Granger dumped the Weasel that night, claiming she could not abide his touch. She grew colder, shrewder. When Potter and the others finally understood Malfoy's actions, they still loved Hermione. They simply needed to do so from more of a distance.


When she came to his room one night and locked the door behind her, it was a simultaneous relief and penance.

"I don't know if I'll ever love you," she panted into his shoulder as their bodies cooled.

"Part of the condition, I'm afraid. Comes with the Malfoy soul. There is some good news, though."

"Pray tell?" She asked dryly.

"Well, if you ever do decide you love me, you'll know."

"Really, Malfoy? And how's that?"

"You'll kill for me without a second thought. Protection of loved ones is paramount in my family."

She shifted, and looked into his eyes. "And what of you? How will you know if you ever love me? You'll kill for me, too?"

"I already did. My wand merely cleaved myself, instead of another."