Prologue
Not What She Always Was
She stood alone in the darkness. The moon shone softly, casting dangerous shadows all around. It just didn't scare her. After losing two of the greatest people in her life, nothing mattered to her.
"We'll always love you. Remember that. Go on with life, don't mourn long, what matters is that you are living, and we will cease to."
"It always is better to be happy with what you have, not what you will or had. Remember us; we are sorry if we ever disappointed you."
Her tears fell and left long and wet tracks. The black mid thigh length dress flapped in the wind.
"I'll always love you. I'll always remember how you were, what you were and what you gave me. Thank you so much for everything."
She sat down near the two grave stones. Searching in her pocket, she took out two bouquets of roses. Their favorite flowers. Sitting near them made her remember of the times she they were alive. Laughing. Playing. Enjoying.
But they were gone now.
Dead.
And she turned and left the place, her hair flowing in wind, eyes shining and determination radiating from her face.
"Professor?" She called as she knocked on the door.
"Come in," Albus Dumbledore's voice floated from inside. She opened the door and stepped inside.
"Welcome, please take a seat," Dumbledore said. He was shuffling some vials and had his pensive outside.
"Professor, may I ask why you have called me?" she asked.
"Have you heard of Cassandra Tralenway?" Dumbledore abruptly asked.
"Yes," she replied at once.
"Have you heard of Capra Tralenway?"
"No."
"Let me tell you," Dumbledore said. "Capra Tralenway was Cassandra's mother. She is one of the five most powerful seers to exist in this world. She made a lot of prophecies all of which came true except for one. I'm telling you this because not only it will come true this or the next year, but because it concerns you."
"Me?" Hermione Jean Granger asked, completely shocked.
"Yes," Dumbledore said.
"What's the prophecy?" she asked.
"I have Cassandra's memory. It will be better to see what she witnessed." Dumbledore said and poured the contents of a small vial in the pensive. Dumbledore motioned to Hermione to enter first and she obliged.
The room was beautiful. In a carved and simple yet fancy armchair sat a woman. She had long blonde hair. In her hands were two knitting needles. A young girl of perhaps 25 years old sat in a chair. She seemed to be reading a very interesting book on prophecies.
"Cassandra?" Capra asked.
"Mother?" Cassandra replied.
"Why am I getting a feeling that something is going to happen?" Capra said, in her gentle tone. Suddenly, her tone became misty.
"Born as the first since the line started…. Born with beauty, charm and grace….. her blood is extremely powerful. Marrying the one she never thought… marrying the one whom she thought she couldn't love… his passion, love, and affection will make her stronger….she could assist the dark lord…. The darkest lord wizards and witches alike will face…. He will yearn for her… her power….. she chooses to assist him, she could destroy the world….. she chooses to face him….. she could face the world….. sweet and naïve….. she can be lured by her….. at the age of 23, the world will suffer or saved by her…Una ragazza purosangue di italiano e francese antenati in posa come un muggleborn…"
She jerked back in the chair. Cassandra stared at her mother with a mix of confusion, shock and fear.
"How does this point towards me?!" Hermione questioned the moment they were back in Dumbledore's office.
"At first I didn't think it was you," Dumbledore admitted "I had never paid attention to that last line. But on sudden inspiration, I translated that. Do you know what does it say?"
"A pureblood girl of Italian and French ancestry posing as a muggleborn," Hermione quickly translated, thankful her mother had taught her Italian and French.
"Yes. And this may come as a shock but….. Hermione you're a pureblood," Dumbledore said.
"WHAT?!" Hermione bellowed, standing up and making her chair crash to the floor.
"Yes, you, actually are Hermione Jean Zabini, sister to Blaise Zabini," Dumbledore said softly.
"But….. but….. I'm a Granger… I don't look like him," Hermione protested weakly.
"True, but remember, you have Italian and French ancestry. Both genes coming to play made a beautiful creation," Dumbledore gestured at her.
"How? Zabini is completely Italian," Hermione asked wildly.
"No, he's not. You're great-great grandfather fell in love with a pureblood French girl and married her, therefore making you great-grandfather half Italian and half French. I'm sure you know that the fourth line with become a pureblood because of the three lines passed?" Dumbledore questioned.
"Yes, I do know that," Hermione said.
"You're brother is waiting outside Hermione, near the gargoyle," Dumbledore said.
Hermione stood up numbly.
"And Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore added "I offer you my condolences. I'm really sad to know the death of Dan and Helen Granger."
"Blaise Zabini?" Hermione questioned as she caught sight of a boy with chocolate colored complexion.
"Hermione Granger. What can I do for you?" Blaise asked.
"Umm….. not Granger…. It's Z- Zabini," Hermione said quickly. Blaise lost his balance and crashed to the floor.
"You're my sister?!" Blaise asked.
Hermione nodded weakly.
"Bloody Hell."
A.N.: Welcome to my new Dramione story, 'The One He Will Yearn For'! I hope you all enjoy this story. Be warned that this story will have darker themes, as opposed to my other two Dramione stories.
Odd chapters will be from Hermione's Point of View while even chapters will be from Draco's point of view.
Some chapters will be exception.
Next Chapter
He doesn't have a sister, he's sure of it. Draco discovers the identity of Hermione. What will happen?
Enjoy!
Over and Out