Chapter 1: Of Choice and Consequence
"At. What. Cost?" His voice demanding, each word spat harshly.
Silver eyes boring into her hazel ones. She doesn't flinch from those stares anymore. She should be used to it by now, wasn't it the very same eyes that glared down on her since the day she helped her bumbling friend look for his toad.
She bits down her nail, a compulsive habit from her over-thinking, stress creeping in on her. But she wouldn't be The know-it-all if she doesn't over think, doesn't calculate, doesn't excessively prepare, doesn't have a contingency plan B… subsection 2.1 in the canary yellow tab labeled as 'If the ferret fucks it all up'.
He swats her hands away. Her incessant fidgeting grating on his nerves.
"Stop your stupid mumbling Granger! And answer the damn question!" He cannot help but raise his voice. Doesn't she realize the gravity of what she's saying? And she has the temerity to look affronted.
She sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping. It was not suppose to be like this, by this time they shouldn't even be acknowledging each other. They were suppose to be two people on each side of the spectrum. Him in his grand manor on his high seat ordering those poor elves around, like that blonde git she once watched from the telly. She snickers mentally, that image does suit him.
AND her, she should be… be… well something important and noble and and… SOMETHING that's for sure! With assisting Harry in the hunt, being tortured down by an overgrown whinny-with awful dental hygiene-crazy witch, then the muggles declaring the new age extermination….
"GRANGER!" She was snapped from her running thoughts. Why was she even prolonging this. It's not as if she can deny this from them, they are after all partial to the plan. Her Plan D-dash-8, subsection 2.3 coded with her indigo marker…. she breathes heavily, stopping her mind from going overload with her incessant thinking.
Straightening herself, eyes set hard. She looks into Draco. "Thou know 'tis common, all that lives must die. But It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."
Fuck-a-duck. Draco blinks at the petite witch. What nonsense is she spouting now?! Has she been eating those mushrooms in the forest again? Dammit! She does know they have enough food right? Merlin, she's giving him a headache.
"Granger…" stopping to take a deep breath. His patience wearing thin now. "Can you please elaborate that."
"Don't you get it Draco…."
He snorts, she started pacing again. He rubs his temples, he was now sure a headache is coming.
"...Dumbledore keeps going on and on about how Love is all-powerful, omnipotent and all that mumbo jumbo. But Love is not just that… Oh don't look at me like that!
Love is a powerful emotion, it drives sane men crazy, it is a force that let mothers protect their children, it compels so deeply you'd risk or give your life…" She catches her breath, and stop her pacing.
"Do you remember the day Ron pointed his wand at you?"
"When did he ever NOT point his wand at me?" He snarked. She held her hand up to stop his usual Weasley tirade.
"Don't interrupt me.. As I was saying. That day, when he tried to hex you with the slug-vomiting charm." He remained silent, looking at her meaningfully, willing her to continue. Merlin, this witch can really tests his patience. "Well.. if you recall he never really did say the charm. It was all intent." Drawling the last sentence. He still doesn't know where she's going with this but he has a feeling he won't like it.
"If a person's love is so powerful, so pure and strong. Then, can it not also be the best force to project the spell?" She looks at him now, soft eyes full of apprehension and guilt "Sacrificing a life is not enough… You cannot cast a killing curse without hate, a horcrux cannot be made without evil intent, a patronus does not materialize without pure happiness" She breathes slowly.
"For it to work Draco, the one to cast should have just as much conviction as true and pure as love."
…
It has been 16 years since the battle of Hogwarts. 16 yrs since Voldemort died in the hands of the boy who lived no-more in their final duel. Death welcoming them at the veil.
Muggle Britain has been the first to learn about the Wizarding world. It was inevitable. If not for the Deatheater's revolting revels in the suburbs then the collapse of the Millennium bridge is a dead give away.
Magic was heralded deadly and archaic. It was too late when the Magical community realized that maybe it was not a good idea to anger 6 billion species. Species who are hell bent on revenge and retribution. When the wizards thought they were Columbus and they can conquer their way into the New World with their fancy sticks and flashy robes, they were doomed to find out that unfortunately they were the Indians - the indigenous, inbred and barbaric. The pureblood's Old Ways were no match when a troop of soldiers rein their bullets on Magical communities, blasting thru every wards and concealment. When with a single button their weapons can annihilate a city leaving only a crater on it's wake. Magic be damned, not even the oceans were safe. 21st century witch trials executed every witch and wizard. Every magical child or adult killed on sight by muggle militia.
The Muggle technology developed a way to locate and effectively exterminate wizards thru the assistance of muggleborns 4 years after the Second Wizarding War, eliminating most purebloods and half bloods. Only to realize that they were just pawns, a means to an end. The lot of them are ignoramus' who just exploited more of our secrets.
After that, muggles' next target were the muggleborns. Said they were irredeemable, pagan worshipers, unholy, evil incarnate. They used their religion to drive us out, to remove us of our rights. They created stories, propagandas, purge us through exorcism. Only this time, there was no holy water or a man stretched-out in a wooden cross. Their technology prove that they are the mighty, the undefeatable, the invincible. The Champion's of the Messiah, ridding the world of its evil.
And nothing unites centuries of territorial division like a common enemy. So much for world peace.
…
Deep in the forest of Romania, a red haired man emerges from a decrepit cabin. Holding two glasses of fire whiskey.
"It has to be you mate. Between us, I'm just the dragon tamer while you're the real dragon here." Charlie says.
"You're the one she loves.. i don't think..." the pale man said, sitting on a log in the edge of their wards.
"That's what she's there for... to think you know. She. Is. The. Brains. Besides, you know that's not true" the ginger states.
"I know" a sigh escaping his lips. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for her...I just… I can't.." Draco drowns the impending emotion with a long swig of whiskey, grimacing as he feels the burn down his throat.
"We can't do this to you Charlie. You don't deserve this." He chokes, barely concealing the sadness in his voice.
Charlie just looks out at the horizon, watching the sun set. Hues of red, orange, and purple. It is nice to think that despite their predicament, the world is still beautiful, the sun still rise in the morning, the river still flows, their is still life even after so many death.
After their silent moment, Charlie stands. Glass empty, he dust off some dirt from his pants.
"Come mate, let us go help her out before she unpacks and pack that thrifty bag of hers the millionth time. Can't have her library spilling out off that bag now can we?" Charlie cheekily said. The two share a chuckle, both men standing, looking back at the hut.
There they see a silhouette by the window, a woman with distinguishable set of curly hair.
"She's just scared." Draco sighs. "Tired and scared. Like you and me. She's had enough of all the death and sacrifices. She doesn't want to bury anyone anymore." He said, his blonde hair taking a darker hue underneath the sunset.
They walk back in silence, but before the blonde could reach the door, Charlie stops him.
"I see the way you look at her Draco, it's the same way my brother used to look at her."
"Merlin please don't compare me to that weasel" feeling insulted, he mock glared at Charlie.
But Charlie doesn't take offense and just chortled. "It's Weasley to you ferret!"
"Will you two stop bickering, and go do something more productive! Merlin knows I do all the work here and you two go drinking!" Hermione sermons, chastising the two grown men like bunch of 5 year old brats.
Draco enters the threshold and walks pass her, an annoying smirk on his face. "Let me cook the dinner tonight, can't give dragon tamer over hear your burnt meatloafs."
"I do not burn my meatloafs Malfoy! They're just overly cooked." Insulted, she crosses her arms, a pout on her lips. However, Draco just walks away, grumbling about burnt raw food all the time.
"You look at him that way too you know." Charlie said softly, watching Hermione with amusement in his eyes.
"Charlie..."
"Just do me a favor Herms." the curly haired witch scowls, never liking the given name "After all this…" Charlie gestures to no where "…please, please, please go get your self checked. You seem to have a knack for guys who bully you a lot." Charlie said teasingly, wiggling his brows at her.
"Ron was not a bully Charlie." She said exasperatedly.
"Yeah yeah.. call it pull your pigtails or whatever, you have bad taste in men." Charlie rolls his eyes. Merlin, you would think Hermione is not like every other witch. But she falls for the 'I am awful to you, therefore I like you' type of boys. He couldn't decide if she was sadistic or stupid.
"And you would know what a good man looks?" She raises an eyebrow at him. Their banter amusing her, oblivious to his musings.
"You're standing right in front of him love!" Charlie said with a smug smirk, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Hermione looks at the man before him. Shorter than most of his brothers, with darker red hair too. He lacks the trademark freckles that seem to favor most of his family. But those eyes, the very same blue eyes that used to look at her before. Before a green light hit that man right on his back, preventing Hermione from receiving the end of a killing curse from Dolohov.
She remembers it clearly, running towards the battlefield after emerging from the chamber. Too distracted from seeing the body of young Colin, just a boy who wanted to capture the moment with a click of his camera, now unmoving like a muggle photograph.
"Come to join your friends you filthy mudblood?" Dolohov emerges from the shadows and did not hesitate to throw the killing curse at her. But before she could even react, Ron -her fun, brave Ron- steps in front of her. Collapsing as he receive the sickly green spell for her, barely catching him right after she throws a blood evaporating curse at the deatheater. A curse of her own making. The couple falls to the floor. She tried to catch him, placing his head on her lap. She ignored the dying screams of a deranged man, the load explosions from the battle, and the rumblings of the castle stone walls not far from her. All she could do was cry out to him. Chanting over and over again, 'No, no, no, Ron!' and 'You can't do this to me Ron!' Not caring that he couldn't hear her anymore. She just keeps on shaking him, her heart breaking seeing those blue eyes once full of life now clear and dull.
She was pulled out from her reverie by Charlie pulling her inside the cabin.
"Come Love, lets go eat ferrets divine cooking.
Can't have the ponce think were ungrateful plebeian commoners here."
Chuckling they make their way to the dining area. Setting up the table with a flick of their wrists.
…
After the war there was nothing much to rebuild. You cannot rebuild a school when there are no students, you cannot pave the streets with only sticks and stones. There was no more purpose, no more hope. They were all shattered by a mad man with father issues.
Because there are no winners in a war, only survivors. And the remaining few, scattered, lost at what to do. When the muggles decided that they are not the lesser creature the magicals claim, the purebloods and most halfbloods had no where to hide. The muggles demanded for justice and blood. An eye for an eye, they said.
Magical creatures of all kinds wiped out, others experimented. They cut them up like frogs on a tray, body parts in formalin filled jars. Some were put in zoos, confined in rotting containment. Caged, they were forced to be entertainments like clowns in a circus.
When the muggles found out about wands. They torched all magical tress to the ground. They searched for all kinds of magical objects and artifacts. Like pirates on a treasure hunt. But instead of claiming riches, they were only destroyed. Charred remains buried deep in the belows of the Arctic inside their man-made metal caves, never to be seen again.
And those that remain, are but shadows of the past. They do not call themselves survivors. There was nothing to do but to hide, to camouflage, to pretend.
5 years after the magical purge. The only ones left from the light side were Hermione, Remus, and what remained of the Weasley Family- Arthur, Charlie and Ginny. They came across the Greengrass sisters together with Draco in a small wizarding village in the beautiful city of Spain. Daphne explained that they've been staying there since Blaise, her fiance, illegally migrates them from Great Britain; unfortunately at the end he was killed at a cross fire before the group could even portkey to Catalonia, Spain.
From there, the two groups lived ... somewhat peacefully, surviving from what was left of them. Barely interacting with each other. Until one full moon a group of ragtag muggles were mauled by Moony after a failed wolfsbane potion due to lack of ingredients.
He was killed instantly by silver bullets. Ginny who was assigned to brew at that time, not being able to take another loss and grief kills herself with a poison. Leaving Arthur devastatingly anguished and charge head first to the nearest muggle village with his late-wife's trademark Bombarda. The muggles fired their new vicious assault rifles with electro-bullets, very similar to a Crucio - just, this one has no counter curse.
A week later, the small wizarding village was exposed and burned to the ground. Only Charlie, Draco, Hermione, and a bleeding Astoria escaped the muggle version of fiendfyre flamethrowers and molotovs that burned down the village. Running pass the anti-apparition wards sent by modified tanks capable of creating shield domes to prevent magicals from escaping, they arrived at the former dragon reserve. But Astoria died from the blood curse and her injuries did not even make pass Zurich before arriving at Romania.
From then on the three lived in the center of the Nera Forest. For two years the new trio planted their own herbs, hunted for animals and fished in the near river. Not really living, just enduring their fate day after day. Until one day Hermione apparates somewhere, sending the 2 boys in a state of panic. Not knowing where she is and unable to locate her. But then she comes back one evening looking all disheveled. Walking calmly to the kitchen and start cooking that god awful meatloaf they hate.
And midway chopping vegetables Draco had to break the antsy silence.
"Where the fuck have you been Granger!" Frenzied eyes glaring at her. Gone the aristocratic cool facade he has.
"I went to get books." She said airily. Draco glares at her, asking for more explanation.
"I am driving crazy here you know! I just needed books that I have not read so damn much! It's like nothing surprises me anymore!" she wails.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco sighed tiredly.
"You go out there, risking your life… and for what? BOOKS?! Merlin knows the know-it-all need more books!" Hermione narrows her eyes at him, he could barely contain his anger. She is a bibliophile, a reader. She cannot help it if she really has to know it all. She is making progress in her new research, albeit she had ended up with many failed research lately. But she feels the need for analysis, to probe deeper, explore all the possibilities. How could she do that without new books.
Charlie lowers the fire in the oven lest they want another burnt meatloaf. He knew he had to butt in the growing tension.
"So… What books did you get anyway that has you missing for three days love?" making his voice sweeter to avoid the curly haired witch's ire.
Hermione beams at him and said offhandedly. "Oh just took all the books from your manor" She ceased her dicing, pointing the cutting knife at the blonde git. "Apparated somewhere near the ministry, went down to the Department of Mysteries to get more books…"
"Ooh, what's down there?" Charlie interrupted, acting as though he's not faced by her brash adventure.
"Well it's a mystery, obviously. And a bunch of research. Then I tried going back to Hogwarts…"
"WHAT?!" two simultaneous voices shouted.
"...though it was really sad to see it still in ruins but on the other hand it's still undetectable by muggles! AND the chamber is just wide open so i went pass the ruins to salvage Salazar's tomes!" She pause, trying to catch her breath before going on again.
"Oh and I passed by Knockturn alley for some potions ingredients. Did you know that Borgin is still alive? Well as the saying goes, mala hierba nunca muere!"
She started humming and continues to chop her veggies. She may not be able to cook a decent meal but she can dice perfect cubes of carrots.
The two men looked at her like she had grown three heads and breathes out fire.
...
So from there begins another 5 years for the Trio. Endless hours of researching ancient blood rites, dragonlore, and runecrafting. They started training their bodies and mind thru meditations and grueling exercises. They created spells, invented potions, perfected their wandless magic, warding, solved probabilites thru arithmancy. And when they have exhausted all their magic, they turned their training to the arts of self-defense. They danced with swords, taught themselves to hunt with arrows, played with muggle weapons.
They had to be agile, fast, alert. They had to be prepared. Failure was not an option for their last and only plan, THE plan, the end game, the finale. There were no contingencies, no going back. It was a plan of either do or die.
A plan only a true Gryffindor can do.
That one Thursday morning when Draco sits next to a disgruntled Hermione after another botched spell, he asks. 'Why dont we just giveup?'. Making her look at him straight in his eyes. Feeling as if those big brown orbs can see right through his soul. She then said, 'We have nothing to loose Draco. If the world will bring us down I'm taking it down with me.' From then on, Draco decided he was also a gryffin.
And so here there are. Dinner plates empty and forgotten. Standing in a clearing outside the cabin. Runes crafted into spell circles. Hermione holding onto her trusted beaded bag, the one her mother gifted her on her 15th birthday, once used to carry Harry and Ron's things on their search for the hollows.
Now she stands before two boys, no men, very different from her first friends. Men she has come to know more than her former best friends. Men she loves more, who she would do anything for.
With the moon high above their heads. All three of them in their respective places. Three Rune circles inscribed on the ground. A large circle in the middle symbolizing a dragon's heart, the runes of ZOI swirls on its edge. Then two smaller circles on each sides representing the dragon's wings.
Draco stands in the right circle facing the eastern hemisphere. His circle is emblazoned with the runes of Fotiá, provider of light and fire, just like the sun that rises in the east. Hermione takes her place too, in the left circle, oriented to the western hemisphere. The runes of Chrónos inscribed from the sands of time, her old time turner making its last use.
Charlie walks to the middle of the large circle, just above the enchanted runes of ZOI. He looks at Draco and nods at him, then to Hermione. Holding a dragonbone dagger above his right hand. He slices his palm, then chants a spells.
'Kápste tis kordéles pou kathorízoun ti moíra mas, proothíste tin agápi pou sas díno sti diáthesí sas. Afíste ti moíra na kaíei me tin epithymía tis kardiás mou'
Draco's runes begins to glow like fire on a hearth. Then Charlie slices his other palm, saying the next spell for Hermione. Her rune circle in a mesmerizing emerald glow, nothing like the sickly color of an Avada Kedavra or the fires of the floo.
'To aíma mou gia na dóso kai to teleftaío kardiá mou ktýpise. Mia zoí gia na rythmísete ta chéria tou chrónou.'
Charlie takes one last look at Draco, then at Hermione. A lone tear escaping his eye. He thrusts the blade into his heart, sealing the spell.
Then fire engulfs him, giving the runes its final jolt, creating a portal for the two travelers. Hurtling them back to the time and place where everything is as they were. Where the secrecy of Wizarding World has not been compromised, muggleborns are still ostracized, werewolfs are abominations and purebloods reign with their inbred arses.
All was right, as right as they could be in the winter night of 1945, where the lay lines are seamed to the Drákon constellation. All was right, an old wizard has won a wand's allegiance but lost a friend, and somewhere in a castle a boy is hissing close to a chambers entrance. All was right, except for two people being birth by fire in the middle of forest. Grey eyes meets hazel ones. One said "my love" and the other "my life".
End Scene.
...
...
AN: Disclaimer, obviously I am not JKR. It was a long Chapter 1 and I am a bit chuffed. So the next chapter might take a bit longer to finish.
For those of you who might get confused with the timeline before the couple's jump to the past. Here's a quick review:
Final Battle (1998)
British muggle we're the first to know about wizards
4 years after, muggles invented weapons against magic
A sudden reunion, then 5 years of quiet living in Spain
First 2 years of the new trio in Romania
Finally, the last 5 years of extensive research and planning for the time jump. (2014)
= 16 years of what should have been a slow burn that I happily squeezed into 1 chapter.
I did quote Shakespeare somewhere up there, good for you if you recognize it.
And here are some translations, courtesy of google translate:
mala hierba nunca muere (Spanish term for 'a bad weed never dies')
The enchanted spell is in Greek. It was too cheesy and cringey for me, so it's up to you to translate it OR you can just pretend it's one awesome mumble jumble.
...
Jusqu'à la prochaine fois!