I don't own Harry Potter. And I took a few liberties with canon. It's okay up to 6th year I think. Let me know what you think!
History of the Great War
i.
I didn't want to be in History of the Great War. Actually, I didn't want to be in school at all. However, as I wanted my allowance to continue, I had consented to attend school. I hadn't made any promises to pass anything. My poor, naive parents.
Where was I? Oh yes, History of the Great War. Stupid that it was a required class, I think. I suppose it didn't really matter since I didn't intend to actually work in any class. I did have to find something with which to entertain myself, though. Unfortunately, it's quite hard to get away with anything in a school of magic, as many of the professors actually do have eyes in the backs of their heads. Or charms to that effect, anyway. Actual eyes are rather disturbing, I've seen it done. I digress.
So there I was on that first day of class searching for entertainment. When I saw him, I knew I'd found it. Draco Malfoy. In my History of the Great War class. I'm no Draco fan, you understand, but we were all the way in America. What was he doing here? Not to mention the fact that we were in a wizarding academy. Was he even allowed in here? I looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but everyone was too busy arranging their textbooks and quills and trying to look attractive to the blokes sitting next to them. Even the ones who did glance his way simply gave him the once-over and returned to their own lives. What was going on here? For a moment, I thought I had simply imagined it, but then he looked over and caught my eye. He didn't know me, I wasn't surprised. I'd been a few years behind him at Hogwarts. However, I've heard, far too often actually, that I'm the absolute spitting image of my older brother Lucas, who was a regular victim of Mr. Malfoy. And sure enough, there it was, a quick flare of confusion, and perhaps a bit of panic in Draco's eyes, before he examined me closer and calmed. We were both safe, I, to watch, and Draco..well. To live, I suppose.
This was when it really got interesting, and I was practically bursting out of my seat to announce my discovery to the class. I managed to contain myself. So there I was, with Draco sitting in the seat in front of me, a bit to the right, when in walked a girl. I knew her immediately, too. This time, I worried. She was sure to know me, she knew everything, and I had no idea how to be sympathetic or comforting or any of those things you're supposed to be when people's lives have been destroyed. It didn't matter though. She didn't even look at me, or even at Draco. I know she didn't look at Draco, or she wouldn't have sat down in front of me, in the seat a bit to the left, right next to him. Don't know how she didn't see him, actually, his hair being a bloody beacon of light and all, but I suppose she couldn't see anything, staring at the ground, slumped over as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She didn't even take out a quill or parchment, she just stared at the desk in front of her, her bushy hair drooping around her face. Her eyes were the saddest I've ever seen, disturbingly so.
After a moment, it occurred to me that people should be noticing her too. It was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake, in our history class. She was half the Great War herself, especially now that
Harry and Ron were gone. It was the same as Draco, though, but this time no one even gave her the once-over. They simply dismissed her as another deadbeat first-year, destined to fail out within the semester. Was she a first-year? Where had she been all this time? And why could no one else see her? And then I realized. Someone did see her. Draco Malfoy.
His face at that moment is impossible to describe, but for your benefit, I suppose I'll do my best. It was rather like that moment when you think you're being particularly brilliant during a game of Quidditch, and just as you throw the Quaffle, a Bludger comes out of nowhere and gets you full-on in the stomach, but when you open your eyes, the Quaffle's still heading towards the goal. That instant where you feel surprise, pain, sadness, and then hope, all in the same split-second. If you know what I mean. Draco's face was like that. He only stared for a moment, however, before he went back to staring at his own desk.
I was all geared up for quite the performance with my front row seat when the professor came in. Bloody hell. They ruin all the fun. It didn't matter, though. Hermione never did look up. The professor rambled on about the syllabus for a good twenty minutes I could've spent sleeping, and then released the class for the day.
This was it. Hermione was going to notice she was sitting next to the son of the worst Death Eater of all any moment now. But she didn't. Poor, sad Hermione Granger just gathered her books and walked out the door on the left. Draco, who I suppose had finally regained his courage, looked up as she left, waiting for something, I suppose. He watched her go.
ii.
Tom Marvolo Riddle. What a boring lecture topic. I know it's probably important to learn about stuff like Voldemort, all that bit about history repeating itself, but I'd really just rather not. I lived it, in any case. It's odd, these American wizards. They've no idea what it was like then. It's probably better that way, even as young as I was, I can't imagine anything worse than that last year. Their seventh year, I realized, as Hermione walked in. She headed to the same seat, in front of me and to the left, much to my happiness. My entertainment was back. And today, something happened.
Almost on cue, the moment she sat down, Draco sauntered in and sat next to her. She didn't look up at first, but when she did, those sad eyes widened larger than I thought was possible. For a moment, she froze, and I paused to consider the fact that she at least realized who he was. As I began to ponder that thought, however, she moved. She jumped out of the seat, turning as if to leave. However, although he had been looking down at his parchment at the time, now his hand shot out and grabbed the side of her robes. Her head whipped around, eyes smoldering. I was a little frightened for him. He just stared up at her though, looking a bit confused at himself, and a bit pleading. She stared for a moment longer, then reluctantly sat. He took his hand back, and nothing more was said.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle was born on December 31st.."
I was out.
iii.
For several classes, there was an odd sort of truce. According to the syllabus, (as I was certainly not conscious to actually hear the lecture) we spent those classes discussing the origins of Voldemort. Bugger. I still get the shivers even thinking that name. Hermione, I think, spent the class doing homework for other classes, usually some sort of ridiculously complicated mathematical thing I suppose was Ancient Runes. I'm not sure. I've made a point of not taking any mathematical concepts. My parents are curious how I plan to graduate without taking any, but they don't realize that's entirely the point.
While Hermione toiled relentlessly over Runes, Draco stared alternately at his desk, the ceiling, and, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione. I wondered if she noticed.
It was during a particularly mind-numbing class that I realized that the reason I could see them and they could see each other but no one else recognized them was a charm. Obviously. What a bleeding idiot I was. I knew them, so I could see through the charm, and they knew each other, so they could too. No one in America actually knew them, so they just liked like any other person, I suppose. Wow. Should've paid more attention in Charms.
iv.
It was after several classes that they had any interaction other than that day Hermione tried to find another seat. She hadn't tried to do that again, just sat down next to him every day and did her Runes. Today was different, though. Today, we started discussing Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Today Draco didn't look at anything but his parchment. He didn't simply look at it, in fact. He glared, as if glaring hard enough would make it disappear, or perhaps he hoped it would make him disappear. At first I thought he was taking notes, which I found odd, since his own dad had been a Death Eater. Surely he had the history down. Looking closer, however, I saw he was simply writing his name over and over again in perfect script. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The professor droned on.
"One of Voldemort's most prominent Death Eaters was a wizard called Lucius Malfoy."
At this, Draco's quill snapped. Before he could repair it, I watched Hermione Granger, the victim of endless taunting at his hands, reach into her bag and retrieve a fresh quill. Wordlessly, and without so much as glancing at him, she placed it on Draco's desk. He glanced up at her in surprise, but she was still bent over her paper, ostensibly puzzling over her Ancient Runes. A small smile, a shadow of his once ever-present smirk, appeared on the half of his face I could see, and he pulled out a new sheet of parchment. This time, he simply doodled peacefully. Once he was completely absorbed in his sketching, I watched Hermione glance over at his parchment, give a small half-smile of her own, and return to her own work.
v.
The first day of October was a beautiful day, far too beautiful to be in class. There I was, however, 8th row from the back, watching Hermione and Draco. Nothing had happened since the day of the Death Eaters, and I had just about given up on anything exciting happening at all. As the professor, poor Professor Mugibbons, teaching such a sordid subject, approached the center of the room, I settled back in my chair for a nice nap. It was not meant to be, however, as today, it appeared, was the introduction of the Golden Trio. Hearing this announcement, my eyes immediately swung to Hermione. Glancing over at Draco, I saw his had done the same. Hermione, on the other hand, looked at nothing but the hologram in the center of the room, currently showing Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger as happy and innocent first-years. She did no Ancient Runes that day, just stared straight ahead at her holographic twin. Draco stared at the real Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Since it was so personally applicable to me at the moment, I actually listened during this lesson. Or at least the part about Hermione. I learned her life history, her grades, about her friendship with the doomed Harry, and speculations on her relationship with the equally ill-fated Ron. I felt extraordinarily awkward, almost intrusive. Hermione took it all in, hardly moving a muscle, simply staring, stony-faced, as pictures of her life and the lives of her friends flashed past.
"That's all for today, boys and girls. See you next Monday." I hated when people called us "boys and girls." Picking up my unused parchment, I glanced up at Hermione. Her shoulders were slumped, as if in relief. A girl, emboldened, I suppose, by the fact that Hermione had actually glanced up from her parchment today, turned to her.
"Pretty bad for that Hermione girl, eh?" she said in a clipped New England accent. "All her friends and family dead, and she was always such a bookworm anyway she must have a hard time meeting anyone else. Plus she went kind of crazy, you know. I wonder where she went, you know, no one's heard from her-"
"Eh, Marisa?" I looked up, startled, as I had been quite engrossed in the train wreck that was Marisa's monologue. I realized Draco had interrupted her. He leaned across a sheet-white Hermione to grin flirtatiously at this obnoxious girl whose name was evidently Marisa. I wondered how Draco knew that. "I'm not really from around here, you know, and I was just wondering if you could tell me a good place to eat 'round here? I feel like a bloody wanker wandering 'round lost all the bleeding time." I stared at Draco, rather shocked at his speech. First of all, a Malfoy, no matter who he was speaking to, was never so, well, pedestrian in his speech. And he certainly never admitted he was out of his element. Watching him sneak a glance at Hermione, however, I realized what he was doing. He was saving her.
Marisa was not so observant. She nearly fell over in her haste to lean forward and assure him that she would show him all the good places. A hint of a grimace appeared on Malfoy's face, quickly masked by a saucy wink. "Will you, eh? Are you busy now?" I've never seen a human being move so fast as Marisa did. Hermione forgotten, she beat a path to the door. Draco, rather resignedly stood as well, with one fleeting look back at Hermione. He paused for a moment, and then quickly, as if he would lose his nerve, patted her shoulder, then whipped around and followed Marisa out of the door on the right.
vi.
I suppose Draco put off Marisa in some way, as she didn't sit near us next lesson. After that first day of modern history, things went back to normal. Professor Mugibbons dissected the lives of the Golden Trio and the Death Eaters alike, and Hermione and Draco continued on, the former working diligently, and the latter doodling houses, trees, and Quidditch pitches.
The last day in October, Halloween to the Americans, brought with it an exam. I'd listened to very little of the class, so I spent the period doodling. Towards the end of class, however, I glanced at the prompt.
Discuss the life history of a member of the Golden Trio or a member of the Death Eaters and how their life experiences affected their choices in the time leading up to the death of Dumbledore. Use specific examples.
I glanced at the row in front of me. Hermione had filled two rolls of parchment already. Draco's parchment was blank. He stared at it, his face twisted.
The professor called time. Draco's face cleared. Hermione rolled her parchment and wandlessly sent it to the Professor Mugibbons. Without so much as a glance towards the other, Hermione walked swiftly towards the door on the left, Draco more slowly to the exit on the right.
vii.
On November 2nd, we discussed the death of Dumbledore. I was continually surprised at the disinterest of the class in the subject, or Dumbledore himself. It seems even Dumbledore, a figure forever revered in the English wizarding world, was of little interest to the Americans. I pondered this until I realized, surprised, that Professor Mugibbons had just mentioned the name Draco Malfoy. Suddenly, I remembered. Draco was to have killed Dumbledore. Immediately I looked towards him. He was a mirror image of Hermione during the introduction of the Golden Trio, hard-faced and motionless. His hand gripped the armrest so tightly his knuckles had whitened. I watched that hand for quite some time when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement. Hesitant at first, and then resolute, a hand crept out and rested on top of Draco's gripping it as tightly as he held the armrest. Draco jerked with surprise, but then, slowly, but surely, he relaxed. Hermione's hand still held his tight.
At the end of class, Hermione let go straightaway, and without a peek in Draco's direction, she fled through the door on the left. Draco was still sitting when I finally summoned the energy to drag myself out of my seat and out of the door.
viii.
Everything and nothing changed that fateful November 2nd. Draco and Hermione still exchanged no words, or even glances. However, that next lesson, it was Hermione's hand holding on to the armrest as if it was all that was keeping her functioning, and it was Draco's that snuck out to grasp it firmly. By the next week, they began lessons with their fingers intertwined. Hermione didn't do any more homework, and Draco didn't even bring any parchment. They simply sat, holding tightly to their sanity, and watched their histories unfold.
Afterwards, they unlinked silently and walked calmly to their respective doors.
xi.
The final lesson was, of course, the Final Battle. On this day, however, something happened. Marisa, that same stupid Marisa from before, sat in the seat in front of me and a bit to the left. Draco and Hermione were both a bit late that day, perhaps postponing the inevitable. Their faces mirrored each other at seeing Marisa in the seat that was Hermione's. Hermione stared resolutely at the ground and shuffled to the seat to the left of her. Draco stalked to his usual spot, glaring daggers at poor, clueless Marisa.
The lesson began.
The Final Battle must have been horrifying. I'm not sure who Professor Mugibbon's references were, as I've never heard anyone speak of it. For once, the class was paying attention, as the professor began the story of what my brother describes only as the longest, most heart-wrenching day of his life. I glanced at Hermione to see what she would do without Draco to act as anchor, but, to my surprise, she was digging frantically in her bag. I saw Draco trying to glance around Marisa at her. While I was watching Draco, I suppose Hermione found what she was looking for, for there was suddenly a large Crack! and Hermione was gone. Draco looked up immediately in confusion, as did the rest of the class. Professor Mugibbons looked around confusedly for a moment, and then, muttering to himself, "…apparating in the middle of class, highly irregular, in my day…" began again. Before he could truly start however, there was another loud Crack! I shut my eyes at the surprise, and before I opened them, I hoped it had been Draco.
I was not disappointed.
xii.
I haven't seen them since the last day of class, the day of the final exam. They arrived separately, as always, and sat in their usual seats. Marisa the meddler was notably absent. I noticed that they did not assume their usual linked position, and instead busily pulled out parchment and quills with which to complete the exam. Professor Mugibbons passed the tests out, and, after reading it, for the first time in my memory, since that very first lecture at least, their eyes met. A look of what seemed to be understanding passed, and then they bent to begin their essays. I glanced down at the topic.
Describe both a pro and a con of the Great War, with specific examples.
Hmm.
You didn't think I was going to magically have an extensive knowledge of the Great War, did you? I mean, this is a school of magic, but really? I settled in to wait for the end of class. Finally, it came, and with it, the beginning of my worries about my parent's reaction to my grades. Before I fully gave in to this terror, I looked one last time at Draco and Hermione. They had sent their lengthy to the professor and were gathering their belongings. Draco finished first, and I waited for him to go out his door.
Instead, to my surprise, he waited for Hermione to stand, and, after she had done so, reached out to grasp her hand, giving her a small smile. She gave him one back, and squeezed their tangled fingers, and led him out the door on the left.
xii.
They never did notice me sitting behind them watching all that semester, and I never did find out where they went that last lecture. I like to think they went to the scene of the Final Battle, to finally make peace.
I'm back in Britain now, trying to make a living with this bloody degree I somehow managed to acquire. All I really want to do is nap. The other day I picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet, and in the corner of the front page, there they were, hands together as I had become so accustomed to seeing them, and smiling, something I was not so used to. The caption read:
Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger wed in quiet American ceremony.
The End.