A.N. I've not been as consistent about updating this one as I would like, but it has been a hell of a few weeks. I'm sorry about that. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter as I've been struggling with the tenses. This one takes place about 6 years before the main timeline, but if I put everything in past perfect tense it just reads so awkwardly. So yeah, this chapter explains what really happened before and will, I think, explain Draco's motivations a little better.
No Beta so any mistakes are my own. I'm so happy with the reviews, follows and favourites this story has already received. And I'd like to say a special thanks to all my reviewers - I'm sorry if I didn't respond to you personally but please know your kind words are much appreciated and have been a great comfort in these crazy weeks.
4. Hindsight
She was, strange as it may seem, Hermione Granger, the best friend of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and often considered the brightest witch to have graced the halls of Hogwarts since Rowena Ravenclaw herself, and, six years ago, she and Draco had been very close.
Miss Granger had been brought into the Wizarding community by the Potters, who took her in when her accidental magic had almost caused her Muggle parents to exorcise her. The Department for the Protection of Magical Children had intervened, as they always did when Magical children were at risk, and found a home for her with the Potters, who brought her up and treated her much like they would have their own daughter. Draco later learned they had offered to formally adopt her, but she had declined, not wanting to give up her last link to the Muggle parents she still loved very much.
She was the best student of their year at school, and though Draco himself was a very deserving second, he never managed to best her, except in Potions, and he knew that was only because Professor Snape despised the Gryffindor witch. Miss Granger took the same courses he did and, especially in the later years, they were often paired up for assignments. They had fought, of course. Constantly, at first. Draco had offered Harry Potter the hand of friendship, but had been spurned and the rejection stung. They'd become rivals, always competing and never relenting. The feud was carried on by Hermione Granger, who was loyal to a fault to the family who had taken her in. But somewhere between the insults and hexes, Draco had come to look forward to their verbal sparring during joint assignments.
Some time during their last year at Hogwarts, he realised he had fallen in love with her, but he refused to act on his feelings, as there had been rumours of an understanding between her and the youngest Weasley boy. Though no formal announcement had been made, it was clear Potter favoured the match, and Draco believed her to be all but engaged. He'd been wrong.
One night, not long before the Christmas break, something changed. Sitting in the little alcove in the library that they had quickly come to consider their working space, bent over yet another Arithmancy assignment, he'd been staring at her, mesmerised by the soft glow the candle light gave her skin, the many shades of brown and gold in her curls, and the way she nibbled on her quill before writing down the next step in the equation with a flourish. She'd caught his gaze and blushed but she did not look away. He did, though, unable to look into those beautiful brown eyes any longer, fiddling with his parchment, pretending to write out his answers. He thought he heard her sigh but refused to look up, even as she seemed to be gathering her things and stood up. He waited with baited breath until her footsteps would take her from the Library, but instead he suddenly felt her breath on his ear and the tickle of her long curls on his cheek.
"Are you ever going to just give in, Draco?" she whispered. He froze, hardly believing what he heard, unable to think about what it might mean, the sound of his first name on her lips echoing in his head. When he didn't move, she sighed again and walked away. He inhaled sharply as if only then remembering to breathe, and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her shoulders sagged, her head turned down, she looked defeated. And he moved without thinking, was walking up behind her and grabbing her wrist before he realised he'd gotten up from his seat. She froze in place, her head lifting in surprise. He turned her around and slid her bag from her shoulder, placing it on the floor. He looked at her face, trying to read the emotions, fearing mockery and rejection, but only seeing blazing hope.
When he pressed his lips to hers, he could feel the fire running through his veins like magic. And somewhere, in a small, far corner of his brain that was unaffected by the feel of Hermione Granger's mouth moving against his, he knew he'd never forget that first kiss.
They had kept their relationship secret, at first not ready to share those private feelings with their friends, and then reluctant to do so, as the Gryffindors never warmed to Draco, and the Slytherins still despised Hermione. It just seemed easier to keep it to themselves, especially with a war looming outside the safe confines of Hogwarts.
By the time their last year was coming to an end, they knew they wanted to face the world after Hogwarts together. At their last Hogsmeade visit, Draco told Hermione he could not spend the day with her.
"I need to go home," he'd said, "but when I come back, I'll have a question for you."
They locked eyes and she swallowed and blushed prettily.
"I think you know what I want to ask, Hermione. You know I love you, and I want to be by your side, come what may," he said softly. He'd never forget the happiness that had spread over her face, the light in her eyes and the beaming smile on her face.
"I'll give you my answer when you ask me your question," she'd whispered, before kissing him passionately. Little did he know then that it would be their last kiss.
That day, that fateful day, he had apparated home, to Malfoy Manor, to ask his parents for the Malfoy engagement ring from the family vaults. His father was away from home at the time, but his mother was there. She had been thrilled, of course, when he asked for the ring, until she'd heard the girl's name.
"Granger? I don't think I know a Granger family." Her face only displayed mild curiosity, masking how horrified she really felt.
"She's the daughter of two d... healers. She is the most intelligent witch I've ever met. She is kind and generous, she loves reading and hates flying, and she's absurdly fond of her terror of a half-Kneazle. She's amazing and I love her, Mother. I want to marry her."
"Healers, you say? I'm sure I never heard of healers by the name of Granger."
"They are both very successful Muggle healers, Mother," he said, his eyes narrowing and his chin thrust up in defiance.
Lady Malfoy had shaken her head, her eyes wide with surprise and her mouth forming a perfect O. After a moment of tense silence, she said, "Draco, you can't possibly think your father would accept this? The Malfoy line has been pure for centuries, how can you even consider marrying a Mudblood?"
"Don't call her that!"
Draco had almost drawn his wand at his own mother, but he refrained himself, barely. Narcissa paused and observed the emotions her son failed to hide.
"You really care for the girl, then?" she said quietly. Draco only nodded.
Narcissa then hugged her son, and murmured in his ear, "Have you really thought this through, darling? If she is your choice, of course we would accept it…"
"Really, Mother?" He was a little suspicious of her sudden change, but he wanted, needed to hear those words, unsure how he would have been able to handle his parents' rejection, and he let her words soothe his worry away.
"Of course," she confirmed, tightening her arms slightly before letting go of him.
"But darling, at this time? You are no fool, Draco. You know what the situation is like. Your father has only just been released and has publicly declared his neutrality. The Dark Lord's support is growing. There are new attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns daily. It is such an uncertain time, my dear. Consider the danger you would be putting her in, singling her out as the fiancée to the heir of the powerful House of Malfoy. She would become a target… Draco, do you really want that?" She paused, her voice soft and hypnotic. "Do you really want to risk that? You were in Hogwarts this past year, where life is safe and you are far away from the reality we all live in, out here. Something dangerous is brewing, Draco. Tensions are running high at the Ministry and your father is convinced it will collapse at the slightest sign of trouble, and then they will be unable to continue to give what little protection they can give to those that are most vulnerable… such as the Muggleborns who have no family in our World. Draco…" Narcissa's face showed concern and her hands fluttered nervously, betraying her unease and fear. "My darling, if the wrong people find out how close you are, she… Oh, it doesn't bear thinking of!" She clutched her hands to her chest in a dramatic - and effective - pose.
Draco reeled back in horror, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as his imagination created an onslaught of scenarios, one more horrific than the next.
"What… What do you suggest then, Mother?" His voice croaked with barely suppressed emotion. His mother then stepped closer to him and put a comforting hand on his upper arm, her wide eyes searching his face as her own softened in consideration.
"I cannot tell you what is best, my dear Son, but maybe you should just wait a little. Keep your distance for a while, see how this whole situation pans out… If the Ministry manages to suppress this rebellion, she will be safe and free. Surely if she loves you as much as you love her, she will wait for you," Narcissa said softly, with just the right amount of hesitation. She then walked out of the room, leaving Draco to mull over everything she'd said.
Draco had been stunned. Seventeen years of knowing his mother should have taught him what she was doing, but all rational thought had been abandoned in fear and concern for the woman he loved. He'd never considered he could be putting a target on Hermione's back by proclaiming their relationship in public. He knew the situation was bad, but he hadn't realised how bad exactly. It was true Hogwarts was a safe haven, and life would be different after they left school. Could he really put Hermione in such danger? Those idiotic blood supremacists would never accept a Malfoy marrying a Muggleborn. It did not bear thinking of what they would do to her.
When his mother returned and dropped the ring in his hand, he stared at it in silence for a very long time. Then, without a word, he gave the ring back to his mother and Disapparated to Hogsmeade.
He managed to avoid Hermione for a few days, hiding behind the preparations for the graduation ceremony, but inevitably the day came that she would find him alone. He was seated against a boulder at the edge of the Black Lake, shielded from wind and prying eyes. It was a favourite spot of theirs. When he looked up at her, seeing the warmth and love in her eyes, and that smile that was just a fraction wider for him than for anyone else, he felt his resolve weaken. He did love her, so much. But that was why he had to do everything he could to keep her safe.
"Draco, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you." She smiled as she sat down next to him, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek after casting a quick notice-me-not spell.
Draco had to open his mouth several times before he could make the words come out.
"Hermione, we need to talk…"
He interlaced his fingers with hers and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. She blushed and smiled, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She'd known he'd been home. She'd remembered his promise. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable.
"Draco…"
"No, please, don't… don't speak right now. This is difficult enough as it is."
He would not meet her eyes, but noticed that she bit her lip now, and her eyes had slowly moved away from his face to stare out over the lake.
"Hermione, you know what I feel for you. You know that these past few months have been the happiest of my life and I would give anything to continue after we leave here…" He looked at their intertwined hands and missed the first tears gliding down her cheeks until they dropped down onto her white gloves, leaving a dark, wet mark behind. The words had refused to leave his mouth until he forced them out in a rushed whisper.
"I can't see you any more."
He might as well have shouted it at the top of his voice. Hermione froze next to him, her back stiffening, hardly breathing as the words she had not expected to hear drifted away over the lake, never to be unspoken.
"What?" She sounded shaken and pained, and Draco had almost lost the courage to go on, but he remembered his mother's words and continued anyway.
"It's not safe out there, Hermione. Attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns. And you and me together… We just can't, Hermione. Not with everything that is happening, it's too dangerous. I..."
He never had the chance to finish the speech he'd been rehearsing in his head for two sleepless nights. She slapped him so hard the sound had echoed in his head for what seemed like forever. Then she jumped up and left.
"I only want to keep you safe…" Draco whispered after her, gingerly touching his cheek and fighting his tears as he watched her walk away without a word.
It was the last he'd seen of her. She had not even attended the graduation ceremony, and the Ministry had fallen the next day. They were at war.
Draco had no memory of the first few weeks after leaving Hogwarts. His family had travelled to the summer estate in France for the beginning of summer. He had kept to his room and only occasionally joined his parents for dinner. He lived in a constant state of fear, wondering where she was, how she was doing, if she was in danger. But her name never showed up in the lists of victims published by the Daily Prophet, so he was fairly confident that she was safe. He had believed - hoped - she had gone into hiding, and told himself that trying to contact her would only get her into danger.
But then came the fateful night that would seal his fate. He'd gone down to have dinner with his parents, but the dining room was still empty and he had realised he must have been too early, so he walked towards the library, where he could hear his parents' voices. The door was ajar, and he had been just about to knock and enter when he heard his name.
"We can't keep Draco away, Narcissa, his presence has been requested at our gatherings" his father had said.
"Lucius, you'll never convince him. He won't take the Mark, and he won't follow the Dark Lord. I know he won't."
Draco froze outside the door, his fingers hovering just inches away from the door knob.
"The Dark Lord knows our family is loyal. Draco will present himself this Sunday and he will take the Mark. He knows what is due to the Malfoy name."
Draco barely managed to suppress a gasp. His father had maintained his neutrality in public, but it suddenly became clear that his loyalty had never faltered. He had been so preoccupied with his own misery that he had not paid that much attention to his parents' conversations. The implications of this new reality were horrifying.
"I wish you would delay dragging him into this, Lucius. He's so young."
"He's an adult and he can take up the responsibilities of the heir to the House of Malfoy. It's an honour, Narcissa," another voice said, and Draco, to his horror, recognised his aunt Bellatrix. Bellatrix Lestrange, who was one of the Dark Lord's staunchest supporters, was in his house, was talking to his parents, wanted him to join that depraved band of bloodthirsty maniacs...
Draco turned around and fled to the dining room, shaken by the conversation he had heard and needing to take a moment to compose his face and suppress the maelstrom of thoughts in his brain. When his parents finally joined him, his mask of indifference was firmly in place. He managed to get through dinner with bland smiles and distant responses, which he hoped were not very different from the past few weeks. His parents had seemed to notice nothing amiss, too preoccupied with their own conversation, which had turned to the next social gathering his mother was hoping to host. He made his excuses as soon as he could without vexing his parents and returned to his room, where he cast the most complicated locking and privacy charms he knew.
Pacing his bedroom, he tried - and for a long time, failed - to get his thoughts in order. His father was still a Death Eater, was still killing Muggleborns and torturing Muggles. He would be taken to the Dark Lord to receive the Mark soon. His crazy Aunt, wanted by the Ministry for crimes so horrific it made his blood run cold, was in the house and his parents had not told him. He had to get away, but where to? Then Draco remembered Blaise Zabini, one of his best friends in Slytherin. He was neutral, truly neutral, and he might be able to help. Blaise had put his family's estate under the Fidelius charm and told Draco about the location, but Draco knew he could not simply apparate without tripping any number of protective wards. He considered his options, and eventually penned a note to Blaise, hoping his owl would still be able to reach him.
I need to disappear. Meet me at our usual place, Saturday Midnight. Please.
Then he cast a spell to change the text into a list of potions ingredients, ending with dragon blood. He knew Blaise would recognise his handwriting and decipher the code. He sent the owl around 3 in the morning, thinking it was the best time to make sure everybody remained unaware of his actions. He could only hope the owl would return before anyone knew she was missing. Draco finally fell into a fitful sleep, only to be rudely awakened by being thrown into a wall.
His aunt was standing over him, her wand trained on Draco, a note clutched in her other hand. She cackled at his confusion and dragged her wand slowly along his neckline.
"Ickly Draco all grown up. Did you really think you could get away?"
The singsong tone of her voice made Draco sick to his stomach, but he had managed to only blink and keep his face confused and pained from the impact on the wall. His mind reeled. He noticed his parents had appeared in the bedroom, and his father stopped his mother from coming in. Then Bellatrix hissed another spell that slowly started constricting his throat.
"Aunt Bella, what are you doing? Father..." he gasped, blushing, mortified at the squeaking sound of his own voice, and desperately trying to buy himself time or an opportunity to regain his wand.
"Do you take me for a fool, Draco? What is the meaning of this note?"
Lucius stepped into the room, after a meaningful look towards his wife warning her not to interfere, and took the note from his sister-in-law. He read the few lines in silence. Bellatrix came closer, her face only inches from Draco's, whose lungs were burning with the need to breathe.
"Tell me" she whispered.
Draco felt the magic that had almost strangled him retreat and swallowed painfully. He glanced at the note, trying to conceal the fear that coursed through him. He had never before seen his aunt so angry, so fearsome, so unhinged. But what scared him most was the look on his father's face - confusion and curiosity, but with no intention of stepping in just yet. He answered, in the most steady tone he could muster, "It's a list of potions ingredients, Aunt Bella."
The punch seemed to come out of nowhere and Draco crumpled back against the wall.
"So you do take me for a fool," his Aunt said coldly and with a quick flick of her wand the words on the parchment wriggled and looped and turned into the note Draco had written. His father's face paled and the confusion made way for anger - and fear. Draco knew then that he had lost.
"Did you think you could send such a note disguised with such a poor encryption spell? You must think me either very stupid or very careless, Son." Lucius contemplated him for a moment, then bent lower to hiss into his son's ear. "So which is it, Draco? Stupid, or careless?"
Draco closed his eyes and realised he had no idea how to get out of this mess. His wand was near his bed, on the other side of the room. Nobody in this house would disobey his father and help him. He might as well… He opened his eyes again, defiance glittering in the icy glare he sent his father.
"Both, I daresay, if you thought I would follow in your Death Eater footsteps to serve that madman."
He almost shuddered at the little smile that curved his aunt's lips but refused to show any signs of weakness.
"You dare disparage the Dark Lord? You should know better than to talk back, little Nephew. You should know better than to disobey your parents." Aunt Bellatrix cackled again, her wand twirling languidly in her fingers.
Draco just kept glaring at his father, and was unprepared for his Aunt's next words.
"Crucio."
The pain was everywhere. It felt like thousands of needles stabbing through his skin repeatedly, his limbs twisting and turning, his bones writhing and thrashing. He was dimly aware of loud screeching ringing in his ears, and only realised it had been his own screams when his Aunt lifted the curse and his body had stopped spasming. Every breath burnt his lungs and he could barely make out his Father's voice.
"Who did you send this to, Draco." Lucius' tone was almost conversational, as if he had not just witnessed his sister-in-law torture his own son, and allowed it. Draco tried to speak but spluttered blood instead. It was only then he realised he had bitten the inside of his cheek so hard he was bleeding. He coughed, then stared up at his father.
"Damn you," he spat, gingerly wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
Lucius only shook his head and glanced at Bellatrix.
"Crucio."
The pain was a hundred times worse than before. Draco twisted in the air, consumed by the pain that seemed to pervade every cell in his body, howling in agony until his voice broke and his head was thrashing around in a soundless cry. He could feel the darkness clawing at the edges of his consciousness and tried to give in but his Aunt ended the curse just before the blackness could claim him.
"Who did you send this to, Draco," his Father repeated softly.
Draco panted, drawing in breath with painful gasps, his mind too warbled to make any sense of what his father was saying. The curse was lifted now but the memory lingered in his muscles, his whole body convulsing with aftershocks.
"Tell me," Lucius urged, and Draco blinked up at him, lucidity slowly returning. Then, with an effort, he spat at his father, splattering drops of blood on his father's robes.
This time, the crucio wasn't a surprise. His agonized body could not withstand the third onslaught for long, and the merciful darkness overtook him. The last thought on his mind was Hermione.
When he woke up, he was lying in his bed, and the room showed no sign of the struggle that had gone on there the night before. His mother sat next to his bed, reading, though she looked up when he moved his hand around reaching for his wand.
"Your father only wants what is best for our family. Do not defy him again, Draco," was all she said, before she got up and walked out of the room.
Draco blinked, stunned, then searched again for his wand. But it wasn't where he'd left it, on the nightstand next to his bed. It wasn't under his pillow either.
Just as he was about to get up and see if his wand had rolled under his bed, his Father entered his room.
"Looking for something?"
Draco refused to answer but drew in a sharp breath when he realised his father was holding two wands. He decided not to say anything and see where this confrontation would lead. His body was still sore from the cruciatus curse, his muscles humming in agony with every breath and movement, and his throat felt like dry sand.
"Will you follow me to the Dark Lord tomorrow and pledge your allegiance?"
Draco shook his head resolutely.
A flash of rage distorted Lucius Malfoy's face, but it was gone almost as soon as it had come.
"Oh but you will, Draco. You have to. I will not allow you to discredit us and lower our family in His esteem. Your alliance with the Dark Lord will keep us safe and in his favour. And if you do not obey me willingly, it will be unwilling. But you will obey."
Draco shook his head again, which is why he was unprepared when his father flicked his wand and murmured "Imperio" for the first time. He would hear it again often in the long five years that followed, never completely free until the Aurors finally captured his Father and snapped his wand.
