A/N: This is the prologue, and it is mainly flashbacks and pain. Lots and lots of pain and angst. This entire fic will be Dramione, do not worry. Hermione will be grey, because … well, you'll have to keep reading to find out. Yes, there is actual time travel, which is why this is an AU. This is also my first story so please leave as many comments/reviews and bits of feedback as you can, and if you want sneak peeks of future chapters or alerts, then follow my tumblr (faerose06. tumblr. com ← remove space before com and tumblr), because that's where I'll mainly be. That's about it for this long author's note, and I promise other chapters will either have non-existent author's notes or short ones, unless it is completely necessary to write long messages. :D :D :D
When Draco Malfoy died, he died in Hermione Granger's arms.
"Draco. Why can't you join the Order of the Phoenix?" asked Hermione, tracing patterns of the constellations onto his arm. The arm with the Dark Mark on it, as if the stars that Hermione drew could cover the gruesome mark.
Draco sighed, and his fingers stopped massaging her head, which was on top of his lap. Hermione frowned at the missing comfort.
"Hermione, you know that the Order would never accept me - especially not now."
"Why not now?" Hermione asked, getting up from Draco's lap and facing him. "The Order would be understanding, they would-"
"No, Granger. They wouldn't. I'm the son of a Death Eater, and now they have proof that my father is. I'm a Slytherin, which is practically a Dark Wizard to them, and - Weasley and Potter - they hate me. Weasley more than Potter does, and we know he could convince more than half of his family to oppose me, and you know that the Weasley's are a very important family in the order."
Hermione frowned at Draco's reasonings. "Draco - Ginny knows about our relationship, and while she's not the biggest advocate, she tolerates you, and you've even managed to have several conversations without taking out your wands."
At this, Draco laughed. "I know Weaslette - sorry, Ginny - would fight for me in her own special way," said Draco. At his next words, the smile left. "But the Order would never properly accept me, and Weasley would do his best to kick me out of the Order, and if he found out about our relationship -"
"Draco, stop being such a worrywart! Just, please, come to Dumbledore with me, he'll help!"
"By now, Granger, I'm sure he knows I've been assigned to kill him," he said, his eyes briefly flitting to his arm. Hermione noticed the movement but said nothing of it.
"We'll never know if we don't try. Please, Draco," she said, looking at him with pleading eyes. "Please do this. For us."
Draco had never been able to say no to Hermione.
Draco had been right. The Order had been wary of Draco, and his platinum blonde hair struck their instincts to take out their wands, and more often than not, an Order member would "accidentally" strike Draco with a spell, "thinking" he was Lucius.
As if Hermione would accept that Hippogriff-shit. She knew that it wasn't "instincts", but rather, hatred. She had told the more hateful Order members to be more careful about who they struck, and she'd gotten Harry to speak of it, too, and for a while, it had worked. Until it hadn't, and now it was quickly going back to its original state.
The Order did not yet know about Hermione and Draco's relationship, but they knew that their Golden Girl had taken to protecting him, and they each tried their hardest to pull Hermione from Draco's side, thinking that it was just a phase of hers, like the house elves.
But they didn't know that she hadn't given up; She had just decided to take up fighting for animal rights after the war, when people could think clearly.
Just as she hadn't given up that, she would never give up Draco. Never in a billion years, never in a billion lives.
Hermione was currently tending to wounds that Draco had nursed. There were plenty, even more than she, Undesirable #2, had, mainly because Order members weren't doing their best to hurt her without killing her.
"Tergeo," said Hermione, vanishing the dried blood from Draco's body wandlessly. "Episkey," she said, healing his split lip, and a medium-sized cut on the back of his arm. Draco didn't hiss in pain, but he did squeeze his eyes shut.
"Who did this to you," asked Hermione, with lethal calm. She knew that no Death Eater had ever been able to harm him, for Draco knew all their spells and his instincts had been sharpened by battle and his time at Malfoy Manor with all of the Death Eater's there.
"No one," said Draco, not looking Hermione in the eye, but rather, out the window in Hermione's room.
"Draco. Do you love me?"
At this question, Draco looked into Hermione's dark eyes, and said "Of course I love you, Hermione."
"Then tell me who hurt you. Because I love you, too," she said, holding his stare, frustration leaking into her voice.
"It doesn't matter, love. It really doesn't," said Draco, with a wobbly smile.
But Hermione knew it mattered, at least a little bit. And it mattered to Hermione. The only reason Draco tolerated all of this - hatred - was because of his love for Hermione. It hurt Hermione to see Draco hurt, and she had to wonder if he was getting hurt even more because of how much she was around him.
Rumours about their relationship hadn't sprung yet, but it was only a matter of time. She'd heard the other rumors, though. That Draco had Imperioused their precious golden girl, that he was corrupting Harry Potter's best friend.
"I - Mmph, fine, Draco, I won't bother you about this," she said, applying some dittany to his wounds.
But that didn't mean that she wouldn't find out through other ways.
In the end, she found out that it had been Ron. It made sense of course, after she did some snooping around. In the last battle, Hermione had been asked to stay home and so some necessary research, and she agreed. She had asked for Draco to stay back with her, saying that he would probably be able to help her seeing that he'd grown up in the wizarding world and that he'd be able to give her a different view.
They said no, of course.
So Draco went into battle alone, without Hermione. For the battle, Kingsley Shacklebolt had assigned Ron to be his battle partner, a new technique that the Order had implemented, hoping for less injuries and casualties.
All the other Order pairs were scattered around the Battlefield, and none were within distance to hurt Draco, Except for Ron.
Hermione, being Hermione Granger, confronted Ron.
"Why does it matter to you, Mione" asked Ron.
Hermione sighed. "Ronald, it's just that - as the Order of the Phoenix, we should support each other, not attack someone while they're battling the Death Eaters!"
"And what if they are the Death Eaters?" said Ron, anger penetrating his voice.
Hermione clenched her teeth. "And what if you're accusing someone without evidence?"
"Mione, no one needs evidence to see that any Malfoy spawn is evil! Have you forgot what he used to call you? A 'mudblood'! That's what he hurled at you, every single time, and -"
"Ronald. Stop. I know everything Draco's done to me before, and I've chosen to forgive him for it for my own personal reasons. Because it is before. Before the war, before we all grew up and decided that sticking together was better than fighting each other. Why are you still hung up over the past? Especially while we're in a war. You should be focusing on the present, and how Draco's joined our -"
"You call him Draco." His voice was quiet, and his eyes were accusing.
"I - Of course I do. He's my friend, Ronald, as you are, and I'll give him the respect he deserves."
"He never gave you respect when we were younger!" shouted Ron, standing up from the sofa.
"Ronald, that's exactly it! 'When we were younger'!"
Ron stuck his chin out like an indignant child. "If I could hurt Malfoy once again, I would do so without a thought. And so should you."
Hermione couldn't help herself. For as rational-minded she was, she was still human, and still prone to acting on her instincts. She slapped him, as hard as she could, and the sound vibrated in her ears.
She pulled her stinging hand back to herself after it made contact with Ron's cheek, and squeezed it with her other hand.
"Hermione? Did you - did you just slap me?" Ron asked incredulously, his hand clutching his now red cheek.
"I did," she said, her voice shaking. "And you deserved it."
Ron's eyes widened, and his brows furrowed angrily, creating a crease in his forehead. He hands fell from his face to his side, and he clenched his fists.
Before he exited the room, he said, "Malfoy's really fucked with you head, hasn't he, Hermione? Guess even the purest of us will eventually fall."
Hermione didn't reply, didn't speak, didn't move for a long while.
Ron didn't speak to Hermione, and Hermione didn't speak to Ron. If possible, she clung to Draco even more, and when she couldn't, she was either with Ginny or with Harry. Ginny knew what had happened from Hermione's point of view, and Harry knew what had happened from Ron's point of view, which Hermione had been quick to correct as soon as she talked to Harry. Hermione left the room as soon as Ron entered, tugging Draco along with her, and Ron left the room whenever Hermione was in the same room.
Members of the Order chuckled at their "fight," calling it a "couple's spat" that would be over soon.
Late at night, while Draco was braiding Hermione's thick hair, because she never could, he asked her what was going on.
"Granger - Weasley, Potter, and you were the Holy Golden Trio. What's wrong? What did I do?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound joke like when he asked if it was his fault. Draco had always worried if his relationship with Hermione was ruining her, slowly, because he'd always thought she was too good for him, and Hermione knew that, which is why she was quick to correct him.
"Draco. It's not your fault. Ron's just a git. I'm hoping he'll apologize, but … he - never mind. Why didn't you tell me that it was him?" she asked, as Draco's nimble fingers worked through her hair. It soothed her, made her feel safe and adored.
Draco's hands abruptly stopped moving, making the neat braid split open since he wasn't containing it.
"It - It wasn't Ron, Hermione. You should apologize," he said, starting all over on her hair.
"For a Slytherin, Malfoy, you're a terrible liar," joked Hermione.
Draco smiled, and said, "It's because of how much you affect me, love." He tugged on a piece of her hair affectionately.
Hermione grinned, and pressed her back closer to Draco's chest, making herself comfortable.
Draco was all she needed to feel at home.
And now Draco was gone. His blood was on her arms and hands, hands he used to hold. His blood was her hair, which he used to braid. His blood was on her lips, which he used to kiss.
His blood stains were everywhere, and the vermilion red color would be burned into her retinas until the world ended. She was in shock, still, and her tears were falling out her eyes and onto Draco's chest and onto Hermione's hand, which were resting on his heart.
His heart which is no longer beating, thought Hermione, and she broke into a million pieces. Her magic crackled around her, and her hair stood on end, as if she was going to be struck by lightning, but even that would be better than having Draco snatched away from her.
"Her - Hermione, are you okay?" asked Ron, clutching his wand close to him, not knowing what to do with Hermione in hysterics before him. Harry and Ginny were not there to handle Hermione properly, so Ron was the one to attempt.
Which was a mistake. Because he was the one to curse Draco. And Hermione had seen.
"You," she shrieked. "Ronald, you! I loved him!"
"What?" sputtered Ronald.
"YOU - YOU, my best friend, killed him! How could you?" she choked out. Her magic that had been previously cracking around her had now expanded, a red-tinged amber.
"I - I didn't know, Hermione, I swear!"
Hermione didn't want to hurt Ron, she really didn't and she knew that if she said anything else, she would ignite her magic, and so - she screamed.
She screamed like a banshee, the sound piercing through the air like cut glass on flesh.
She screamed like someone swallowed by pain, by grief, by anger, by emotion, because she was that someone.
She screamed and she screamed, until her throat was raw and her voice had gone quiet and her mind had gone quiet and the battle had gone quiet and the spot where her heart was supposed to be was empty and - she was empty.
The battle was over and Harry was hugging her, but she couldn't feel anything, and when he tried to move her, away from Draco's body, she tried to scream, but all that came out was a wrangled sound and she just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until her back and mind felt broken and all the liquid in her body had poured out through her sockets.
All Harry could do was watch his best friend break into a thousand bloody, broken pieces.
All Harry could do was his best friend become a shadow of the witch she was.
All Hermione could do was just stare emptily at a point on the ground, where Draco had been standing - before his fall.
Eventually, they were able to move her, and there was funeral - that she didn't attend. The Malfoys invited her, but she didn't go. Just curled up inside Draco's blankets, clutching his picture - the only picture that she had of him, one that she took when his mouth had curled into a smile-smirk, one that she took when his eyes were alight with happiness and love and life - and she cried some more, her tears falling onto the glass of the picture frame - one of the many barriers between Hermione and Draco.
It was a week after the funeral when Hermione saw the case in which her time turner lay.
It was when Hermione found a new purpose in life - getting back to a time where Draco was alive and where he would never die.
The light in Hermione's eyes returned, no matter how faint.
End of Prologue
I'm not crying, you're not crying. I'm gonna go write some fluff to get rid of this angst. ~ Faerose
PS: While writing this, I was listening to Praying to a God (Gianni Marino Remix) by Mr. Probz. Also The Green Girl by Colubrina has been an amazing inspiration. Though I've not had the time to finish reading it yet! (darn real life, ruining my reading time)
PPS: Should I continue writing/publishing this? I don't really know how people will react to this, so … tell me your opinions, via review or PM!