Bittersweet Memories
A/n: …so after five years, I finally had the urge to revamp this old fic of mine, Bittersweet. This is the edited version, so expect changes in the plot (and grammar, thank goodness). This is AU by the way, so we won't be following the HP plot completely. And I changed my username too. It's now iamhermionemalfoy (the same one as my Tumblr url) and it will stay that way until I am old and wrinkly, I swear on Dumbledore's grave. There. On with the story...
Chapter 1: Bargaining with the Devil
"You will not interfere."
Lucius Malfoy's cold voice echoed around the spacious master bedroom of the Malfoy Manor, followed by a loud smashing of glass on the hard stone wall. Narcissa stood across her husband, back straight as lance and chin tilted up in a bravado she had perfected years ago. No, she refused to be cowed by him ever again. She would not let her battered ego get in the way of protecting something she considered more important than her own life—her son.
"Lucius, honestly, how can you even consider this? Draco's our only son, he—" the rest of her words were cut off when Lucius slapped her hard across the face. Narcissa didn't even flinch at the pain, as she was far used to her husband's cruelty.
She loved this man. She really did, else she wouldn't have married him. He had changed a lot since he had gone to serve the Dark Lord though, morphing into a heartless monster that she can barely recognise. Soon his loving caresses turned into abusive beatings, breaking her heart into pieces. The love in her heart became poisonous hatred, pumping like acid in her veins until she was completely consumed with the dark emotion she never thought of feeling for her own husband. She loathed him; Loathed how he aimed to make their son a miniature version of himself, how he brainwashed Draco with his prejudiced opinions and morals.
"I'm not going to repeat myself again, Narcissa. You will not interfere. Draco is bound to serve the Dark Lord just as faithfully as I have. He will uplift the Malfoy name again in Lord Voldemort's eyes and take the same responsibilities I did," Lucius said calmly, his grey eyes piercing his wife's oddly indifferent ones.
Narcissa didn't answer. A muscle twitched in Lucius' jaw, and his fists curled into tight balls. "Promise me you won't interfere," Lucius said, his hand harshly cupping Narcissa's chin so she could look at him in the eye. He was fiddling with her thoughts, she knew. It was fortunate that she had been a master of occlumency long before they got married, thanks to her deceased father. It was a gift she never truly appreciated until this moment.
It took a minute before she answered. "Yes, Lucius." As she said that, her fingers crossed behind her back, and from that moment, she knew she was going to have to resort to drastic measures.
She would bargain with the devil if it meant saving her only son.
"So what did you want to talk to me about, mother?" Draco asked his mother as he entered the drawing room, curiosity etched on his pale face. It was disconcerting, how much he resembled Lucius physically. They both had the same shade of white-blond hair, same calculating grey eyes, and even the cynical curve of their mouths looked eerily identical. Narcissa had been standing by the French windows, staring at the gloomy atmosphere outside, lost in thoughts, when he came in. As she saw her son, however, she couldn't resist giving him a hug.
It just might be the last thing she'll ever do to him.
She felt Draco stiffen in her embrace, but she understood why. She had rarely shown any outward affection for him in the past years, because as Lucius had said, "Coddling the boy would make him a weakling."
When she pulled away, she saw her son looking at her bizarrely. "Sit down, dear," she murmured, ushering Draco to a chair. Draco immediately did as his mother told him, his wary gaze not leaving her face.
Narcissa went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a decanter of brandy, along with a couple of gold-gilded goblets. She filled both glasses with the amber liquid, discreetly pouring a dash of blue liquid from a vial she had procured from her robe pocket when Draco wasn't looking.
She then picked up the two goblets and offered one to her son, who stared reluctantly at her. He cocked his head to one side, unsure of what to say next.
"Mother, I am not—"
"Drink," Narcissa ordered. "You look distraught, Draco. I'm sure a glass would calm your nerves,"
"I am perfectly fine, Mother," Draco responded exasperatedly, but he took the goblet from his mother's outstretched hand anyway. Narcissa watched as he took two careful sips, then set the glass on the table and looked at her.
"What did you want to tell me?" he asked bluntly. Narcissa took a deep breath as she also set down her goblet. "Draco, dear, you do know that I love you, don't you?" she asked softly. Draco slowly nodded, a pale blonde brow rising as though waiting for her to elaborate.
But it seemed that he was waiting in vain.
Narcissa felt a bitter smile tugging at her mouth when she saw her son's eyes beginning to droop. His long lashes fanned against his cheekbones as he fought to keep his eyes open. "And that I would never do anything that would not be for your own good?" she finally spoke, glad that her voice did not break.
"M—Mother, what—" he slurred out.
"Then I hope you will forgive me for what I will be doing," just as Draco's eyes slid close, Narcissa raised her wand and pointed it at her son's forehead, tears rolling down her cheeks without her notice.
"Obliviate."
It was raining, and Hermione Granger resisted the urge to hurl her resistant umbrella on the street. Of all the times her umbrella wouldn't budge, it really had to be during a stormy weather.
She balanced her groceries on her arm and again attempted to tug at the umbrella, which, to her relief, finally opened. She had been walking on the sidewalk when the rain suddenly started pouring, so now she was practically drenched, but at least her groceries were safely tucked in her cloak.
Leaning the long handle of the umbrella against her left shoulder, she started walking towards the subway, her boots splashing ungracefully against the muddy sidewalk. She loved the rain, but she was not particularly keen on being soaked to the bone without any form of warning beforehand. London weather tended to do just that, and she should be used to it by now, but there are just some things she could never bring herself to adjust to. She hated adjusting to unpredictability.
Hermione unconsciously hastened her stride, eager to get back to the Headquarters so she could finally change into some dry clothes and get warm. She hoped Molly cooked her tasty hot soup, and Tonks would bring over her usual bag of sweets… Merlin, she was starving.
She had spent the entire day transferring her parents to another location and making impenetrable wards around their new home. It had been a fairly easy task, but tiring, and she realized that she hadn't eaten since the previous evening. The anxiety to keep her parents safe had been far too important than food.
They were not going to be involved in this war, and she intended for it to stay that way.
Hermione was sinking further in her thoughts, unaware of a hooded figure watching her intently from an obscured alleyway.
Narcissa had been watching the girl for about fifteen minutes now. She quickly recognised her, as she vividly recalled the first time they were introduced to each other at the World Cup four years ago. After the introduction, when she, Draco, and Lucius had been seated in their private box, her son had begun his usual rant about the saint Potter, the pauper Weasley, and the mudblood Granger.
She fully recalled her son's expression as he raved about the filthy little mudblood that beat him at every subject and dared not to acknowledge his superiority as a pureblood. No, the look didn't just contain hatred; she had the feeling that her son also held a certain hidden respect for the girl. That realisation surprised Narcissa a bit, for Draco rarely showed high esteem for anyone. True, his respect was barely conceivable through all the insults and derogatory comments he hurled her way, but it was there, preferring to go undetected by the young witch.
And during the chaos when the Dark Mark appeared, Narcissa had observed from a distance how Draco had cruelly, however indirectly warned the girl of the danger. That's when she concluded that her son did not fully hate the muggle-born lass.
He just hasn't realised it yet.
Narcissa snapped out of her little reverie from the past, her shrewd eyes trained on Hermione Granger, who just walked a little bit past her. She didn't waste the chance to grab her by the shoulder and haul her inside the dark alleyway. The girl must have screamed, but her protests were futile to the resolved woman and the conniving weather.
Hermione began to dig in her pockets for her wand, but Narcissa had already pointed her wand at her neck. The girl went rigid, fear flashing in her dark eyes as she tried to hold the older woman's gaze. Narcissa leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "I won't hurt you," lowering her wand slowly from the younger witch's quivering form.
"Lumos," Narcissa said, and the tip of her wand lighted up, giving her a fair view of the girl in front of her, who looked deeply frightened and confused. When Hermione saw the face of the person who had pulled her in the alleyway, her mouth dropped open.
"You—you're—you're-"
"I'm Narcissa Malfoy, and I'm here to ask for your help."
Hermione stared at the woman in front of her in absolute terror. She blinked, wondering if she heard right; after all, the wind was practically howling and the thunder was boisterously rumbling. But judging from the look on Narcissa's face, she surmised she heard right.
But why would Narcissa Black Malfoy, wife of a pureblood Death Eater, ask for her help? It sounded wrong; it was utter nonsense. Hermione usually didn't bother with such things, but this was different. It seemed surreal and ominous, like fragments of a nightmare she wanted so badly to wake up to.
"Please, you have to help me," Narcissa's broken voice jolted Hermione from her thoughts. "You're the only person I can run to. I know you can help me, you're the only one I can trust enough to do this. Please…" the older woman ranted on, and after every sentence her voice got more hysterical, her words coming out incomprehensible.
"Why do you need my help?" Hermione queried as some of the shock began to wear off, replaced by an unpleasant curling in her stomach. She had a sinking feeling that what Narcissa was about to say will be a very bad news. Malfoys never bode good news.
"Miss Granger, you have to help me get my son away from his father," Narcissa managed to say through her tears, her lip quivering as she waited for the girl's reaction.
Hermione was called 'The Brightest Witch of her Age', but ironically, she a difficult time trying to digest what Narcissa was trying to convey. Maybe it was because she didn't want to understand. She refused to understand.
Hermione stood frozen on the spot, unspeaking, quite unaware of the rain pouring down her face and the uneven wall bricks digging against her back. She stared at Narcissa, whose hands now gripped her shoulders in a very unyielding grip. "Lucius is planning to make Draco a Death Eater, and I would die before I let him. Please, help me protect Draco, please don't let Lucius take him-"
Hermione finally found the strength to speak. "You don't want Draco to become a Death Eater?" she asked incredulously. Now that was a shocker; she had always perceived the Malfoys to be strictly united in their decision-making, including where they made their loyalties known. It never occurred to her that the Malfoy Matron would not support her husband's obvious desire to serve Voldemort, much more let her son take the same evil path. It was a surprising piece of information, which unhinged the remaining rationality she had left in her brain.
The woman before her gave a weak nod, tears still pouring from her eyes, mingling with the raindrops that splattered on her face and robes. "Pr—Promise me you'll take care of Draco, and that you won't let his father take him away…"
Hermione was silent for a long time, her mind going completely blank. She honestly didn't know what answer to give to the pleading woman before her. She looked like she was telling the truth, but she couldn't be too sure…
Then, Narcissa said something that oddly chased away the doubt swimming at the peripheries of Hermione's mind.
"I know I don't deserve your trust, but I want you to look past our statuses and believe that I have enough faith in you to leave my son's life in your hands," the blonde woman said softly, looking at Hermione straight in the eye, silently begging her to use legilimency, if needed.
"I'll help you," Hermione answered an eternity later, and Narcissa managed a small, grateful smile through her tears. "Take care of him," she whispered, then, with a small cracking sound, she was gone.
Hermione stood there for a long time under the raging storm, her umbrella sprawled on the ground, and her grocery bags lying soaked on the cold stone floor. When she was able to think coherently again, she thought, What have I gotten myself into?
She had bargained with the devil.
She didn't know how long she stood there in the rain, her hair hanging in wet clumps around her face and her clothes clinging like second skin on her body.
Only when she started to tremble violently from the cold did she start to move. Having no intention of picking up her umbrella or her fallen things, she began to walk, but her foot got caught on something and she fell forward- not on the hard ground, but on something much more soft- was that a man on the ground?
She blinked several times as she tried to make out through the dark who or what the thing she landed on was. Unfortunately, the whole place was now pitch black, so she hastily dug her pockets and brought out her wand.
"Lumos," she muttered, and a faint glow was emitted from the tip of her wand. She pointed it close to the figure, and gasped at what she saw.
Leaning on the brick wall of the narrow alleyway was an unconscious Draco Malfoy, who was wearing a hooded dark-coloured robe. He was also sodden with the rain, the raindrops rolling down his face and body in rivulets.
Is he still alive? She thought in panic, her free hand frantically searching for a pulse. She sighed in relief when she found one at the base of his neck, faint, but steady. After that she started to heave him up with her, but he was far too heavy, and his wet robes were making the job harder.
Inwardly cursing, Hermione thought about shedding off Draco's robes, leaving off his equally soaked sweater and pants, but thought the better of it. With the last scraps of her energy she heaved him up again, and after the third try she finally succeeded. Slowly she hobbled away from the alleyway, Draco's slack weight in tow.
She paused to pick up a can littered in the street, then pointed her wand at it and murmured, "Portus." She grabbed her companion's hand and placed it on the can along with hers- then they were both pulled forwards by an invisible force into a swirl of blurry colours…
With a thud they landed on the ground, Draco's body now fully draped over Hermione's in a rather obscene manner. Hermione took no notice of this however, as she was already pushing his body away from her.
When she was able to straighten her composure, she staggered up and slung Draco's slack arms around her shoulders and stood up, then closed her eyes to concentrate on her thought.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London.
The headquarters appeared almost quickly, and Hermione opened the door and gingerly stepped inside, Draco still unconscious beside her.
She hobbled on inside, walking as quietly as she could as not to disturb the paintings on the wall.
When she reached the end of the hallway, she went up the stairs leading to the bedrooms, pausing every now and then to take a break; Malfoy certainly was no light-weight, and her low energy level wasn't helping either. She thought about levitating him with her wand, but she didn't want to alarm anyone who might see her… and him.
When she reached the top of the stairs, Ginny stepped out of their bedroom at the same moment. Her brown eyes did not miss the sight of Hermione carrying an unconscious man, and she gave a loud gasp.
"Hermione, what happened?" the redhead asked, sprinting over to Hermione with a nervous look on her face. Hermione was grateful that the hood had concealed Draco's face, or else Ginny would be in a panicking fit. Then an angry fit.
"I'll explain later," Hermione said, catching her breath from all the effort. "Help me put him in my bed first," Ginny immediately complied as she swung one of Draco's arms around her shoulder.
When they had finally laid Draco's unconscious form on the bed, they were both panting with exhaustion. "What happened?" Ginny asked again, looking over at Hermione.
"Promise not to shout first, Ginny," Hermione requested firmly, and Ginny nodded. She went over to the bedside and pulled off Draco's hood, and Ginny gave a low sob of fear.
"Narcissa Malfoy brought him to me," Hermione explained in a tired voice. "Apparently, she doesn't want her son to become a Death Eater, as opposed to her bastard of a husband,"
Ginny was still staring at the unconscious man with frightened eyes. "Did he willingly come with you?" she asked, her voice coming out high-pitched and filled with unconcealed fear.
Before Hermione could answer, the bedroom door swung open again and Harry entered, Ron lagging casually behind him. "Hey Hermione, I thought I heard you come in," Ron said. "Where's my bre—" he froze in his tracks when he saw the figure on the bed. Harry also stopped.
"Who's that?" Harry asked, a frown creasing his brows. Ron walked past Harry and peered at the face of the unconscious man. When he saw who it was, he took a step back, a look of horror on his face.
"What's wrong, Ron?" Harry asked. "Who is it?" the only answer he got from his red-haired friend was a quick shake of the head. Irritated, he walked over by the bed to look at the face of the stranger.
He found himself staring into the face of his sworn enemy.
A/n: So… to those who have read the old version, do you like this one better? Let me know. Tell me what you think. ;)