Author's Note 1: Hey guys! I've read a ton of fanfiction stories, but this is the first one I've written. Any reviews and feedback would be much appreciated! This story has been sitting in my head for a while, but I've never gotten it down on paper. But today, when I was supposed to be studying for my finals, I just couldn't get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy it! I'll try to update every week or so :)
Author's Note 2: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just a poor college student. Don't sue me.
They sat in solemn rows in the great hall. What was usually filled with joyful banter and hanging flags representing each Hogwarts house was now filled with tearful gazes, solemn faces, and black drapes. Hermione sat with her head on Harry's shoulder, tears pouring down her face. It was never supposed to be this way. They were only fourteen. They should be racing each other on the Quidditch pitch or studying for their Potions exam, not mourning the loss of one so young. Hermione clasped her hand in Harry's, and he rubbed her arm comfortingly, barely able to restrain the tears himself. Hermione glanced at Harry and saw the stubborn tilt of his jaw, the guilt flooding his eyes. She knew it wasn't his fault, but no matter what she or anyone else told him he still blamed himself.
"Today we gather to honor a fallen hero, a fallen friend," Dumbledore spoke, "A friend that was taken far before his time. Today we honor Draco Malfoy. Draco was a person who exemplified many of the qualities which distinguish the Slytherin house, and many which do not. He was ambitious, a student at the top of his classes, yet he was also kind. Many of you were tutored by Mr. Malfoy and can speak of the countless hours he aided you in your studies. He was cunning, a trait that frequently landed him in my office." A few of the students snickered, remembering some of Draco's more famous exploits. "His cunning, however, was used to help his friends. You see, Draco Malfoy believed in friendship above all else. This can certainly be seen by his friendship with the other two members of the 'Silver Trio,' as they are have been called, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. Both of which have come to speak in honor of Draco. Mr. Potter?"
Harry stood, a determined glint in his eyes as he stood behind the podium. Taking a few breaths to calm his emotions he began, "Draco Malfoy was the best mate a guy could wish for. When I met him for the first time in Diagon Alley, I knew next to nothing about the wizarding world. He helped me. He offered his friendship, and I accepted. I know many of you were shocked when we became friends, because of our parents' history in the first wizarding war. Let me set the record straight. Draco Malfoy is not to be held accountable for his parents' mistakes. He is…was…nothing like them. He would sacrifice everything for his friends, and he did. He sacrificed himself to save me, and I will never stop owing him for that." He looked down at Draco's coffin and whispered, "Goodbye, mate."
Harry stepped down and returned to his seat. Hermione clutched his hand once and then rose to stand behind the podium.
"Many of you remember when I was first sorted into Slytherin. I am the first and only Muggle-born to ever be sorted there. And to be honest, I never expected to be sorted there. When I first met Harry and Draco on the Hogwarts Express and told them about myself, I expected the Sorting Hat to sort me into either Ravenclaw or perhaps Gryffindor. You see, I believed many of the rumors and myths about the 'evilness' of Slytherin. And then Draco told Harry and I about Slytherin. I mean the truth behind it. Slytherin was not a place of pureblood supremacy and sneakiness, but a place of ambition, determination, and loyalty to those you love—a loyalty so pure that you would do anything in the world to protect those you love. A loyalty that led to the recent death—no, murder—of Draco Malfoy." She choked up a bit and took a moment to dry her eyes.
"You see, Draco was the best friend and boyfriend a girl could have. He would have sacrificed himself in an instant to save Harry or I, and he did. When he pushed Harry out of the way of the killing curse and took it himself, he did so out of loyalty, out of friendship, out of love. Because that was who Draco Malfoy was. A friend. A best friend. A friend that we honor here today, who will never be forgotten."
She stepped off the stage and ran out of the Great Hall, sobs pouring out her of throat. She ran without even thinking of where she was going and eventually collapsed against a cold stone wall. It wasn't long before Harry joined her and sat down beside her.
"How did you find me?" she asked softly.
"I'm a Slytherin, Hermione. I know these secret passageways like the back of my hand. The three of us used to sneak around them frequently enough for me to know this is exactly where you would have gone."
"And now it's just the two of us," she sniffled.
Harry was silent, but put his arm around Hermione's shoulder and held her close.
"He would have hated that funeral you know." She said. "All of those people crying and talking about how much they missed him when they barely spoke to him when he was alive. Filthy hypocrites."
"But he would have loved what you said," Harry whispered.
"You wanna know what the last thing he said to me was?" Hermione asked, "The last thing he said to me was 'I love you.' And I didn't say it back." She began to sob. "Why-why didn't I say it back? I thought there would be so much more time. And now, I'll never get to say it to him."
Tears began to fall down Harry's face. "It's my fault he's dead. That curse was meant for me. It should have been me!"
"Harry, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known he was going to push you out of the way. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself."
Harry silently sobbed for a few minutes before eventually calming down.
"I saw him again."
Hermione wrinkled her forehead. "What are you talking about?"
"After he died, I saw him once more, spoke with him."
Hermione sat up straight. "What do you mean, Harry? Like a ghost?"
"Not exactly. When Voldemort's wand and mine connected, all of the people he had killed—their spirits came flooding out of the wand. I saw my parents and I saw him."
"Oh Harry," she cried, "What did he say?"
"We didn't have long, seconds really, but he told me he was glad he did it. He was glad he saved me, and that to he loved you, and for me to take care of you and bring his body home." Harry began sobbing again in earnest.
Hermione began crying again as well. They simply sat there, leaning against the cold stone wall and held each other for hours.
Eventually, their tears dried and they returned to their common room. From there they separated with Harry going to the boys' dormitory and Hermione to the girls'. When she entered the room, all talking ceased, with everyone staring at her sympathetically. She lay down on her bed while Pansy on the bed next to her wondered if she should say something. As Hermione turned her back to the girls and lay on her side facing the wall, Pansy decided to give Hermione some privacy and ushered the other girls in their year out of the room. As Hermione lay staring at the photograph of her, Draco, and Harry after they won the Quidditch championship last year, a single tear slid down her face.
"And Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Slytherin has won the Quidditch Championship!" Zacharius Smith shouted out from the announcer's box.
Hermione, who was playing chaser, flew down to where Harry stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, the snitch held triumphantly in his right hand. She landed on the ground and threw her arms around Harry, with Draco landing and doing the same not two seconds later with his beater bat in one hand. Someone snapped a picture at that moment as they hugged each other and screamed that they won the cup.
She would never play Quidditch again. That was their thing and she knew that she could not—would not—play without him. It was a long time before she fell asleep, her dreams plagued by visions of the Silver Trio playing Quidditch with Voldemort suddenly appearing and cursing Draco, causing him to plummet to his death. In her dream, no matter how fast she flew she could not save him.
In the dormitory across from the girls', Harry lay on his back in his bed with the bed curtains pulled around, effectively shutting him off from the world around him. He lay there unmoving, thoughts racing through his head. It was his fault. No matter what Hermione or even Draco had said, he knew the truth. Voldemort had aimed for him. He should be dead right now, not Draco. After everything Draco had done, from being disowned by his parents for being friends with 'the Potter boy and the filthy little mudblood' to being chosen to be a Triwizard champion along with Harry, Draco did not deserve to die like that in a graveyard by Voldemort. It wasn't fair! God, it wasn't fair…
The next morning, both Harry and Hermione were awakened by the head boy and head girl telling them that Dumbledore needed to see them immediately. They met in the common room, both of their eyes still swollen and rimmed with red. Wordlessly, they took each other's hand and made the long trek to Dumbledore's office. After saying the password "Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Bean" to the gargoyle, they entered the headmaster's office, to find Dumbledore with his back facing them.
"You wished to see us Headmaster?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore turned around. His face was solemn, and there were deep bags under his eyes. It appeared as if he had not slept at all last night. Harry and Hermione knew the feeling.
"Yes, yes. I am sorry to bother you both after such a trying day yesterday, I am afraid what I have to say is of the utmost importance."
"What is it, Professor?" Hermione asked.
"Is this about Voldemort?" Harry questioned.
"I'm afraid so, Harry. As both of you know, Voldemort has returned. But what you do not know, is that this came as no surprise to me."
"What are you talking about, Headmaster? You knew he would come back two days ago?"
"Not exactly, Mr. Potter. Let me start from the beginning. For the past four years, there have been rumors—murmurings of Voldemort's return. I did not believe them at first, but they have gotten stronger; fear had begun to spread. Surely the two of you heard whisperings of such?"
They looked at each other and both nodded.
Dumbledore stroked his beard and continued, "About a year ago, I began to consult the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. Do you two remember Firenze?"
They both smiled.
"Yes, Headmaster," Harry replied, "He saved the three of us when we snuck into the Forbidden Forest on a dare and encountered that werewolf. What about him?"
"Well, the centaurs have been studying the stars and the signs in the sky for millennia now and have become quite adept at predicting the future. I have been talking to them concerning things to come, and a startling sign was discovered. To put it simply, three silver stars in a perfect triangle came into contact with Mars in the sky. Soon thereafter, one star burned out. This star was very important for it was the star that shone the brightest. The other two stars reflected its light. But once it was burnt out, the other two stars' lights began to fade; yet, the light of Mars grew stronger and stronger. Eventually, the other two silver stars could not be seen, and Mars remained the brightest star in the sky."
Hermione interjected, "Three silver stars—the Silver Trio. Draco is dead, just like the star. According to the astrological signw, Harry and I will be soon as well, won't we, Headmaster? And then Voldemort will take over the Wizarding World."
"That is exactly what we are trying to prevent, Miss Granger. I have spoken with several seers, and after numerous failed attempts, one seer was able to offer a prophecy. She said, 'The world is held upright by a three-stranded cord. A three-stranded cord is not easily broken. Yet once it is, the other two shall ravel as well, and the world shall perish. Right the wrongs which have been done. Restore the cord, and you shall heal humanity of the scourge.'"
"But Professor, there is no way to 'restore the cord.' Draco is dead. We can't bring him back," Hermione sniffled.
Dumbledore reached under his robes and pulled out a long golden necklace with an hourglass in it.
Dumbledore held the time turner out to Hermione, "You're right, Miss Granger. We can't bring him back…but what if we could fix everything? What would you do to save your friend?"
Author's Note: So what do you think so far? Love it? Hate it? Either way leave a review!
(P.S. Positive reviews make me update faster!)