Chapter 21: What Once Was

They sit in silence at the breakfast table. Kreature hums happily as he places the food before them. Ron's narrowed eyes dart between Draco and Mrs. Malfoy. Draco's muscles are tense throughout his back as he sits straight with practiced ease. Mrs. Malfoy alternates between throwing betrayed looks at Draco and disgusted looks at the rest of the company.

Mr. Lovegood stares oddly at the plain chandelier above the table with his head cocked to the side and lips moving without sound. Luna smiles at everyone with that disconnected look. Harry's eyes shift over them with a calculating glint. Hermione clears her throat.

"So, many of you may be confused about the current arrangements," she starts. Mrs. Malfoy lefts out a soft huff, but no one else reacts except to turn to the young witch. "It's a rather long, complicated tale, but I will do my best to answer any questions you have." A general round of nods urge her forward.

Hermione tells them everything. She ghosts over the details of a long and painful war that was eventually lost. She mentions a spell that was passed to her via Dumbledore's portrait in the headmaster's office after the last battle, but don't mention specifics. Mrs. Malfoy glares at Draco when she says that he walked in and remembers too. Draco refuses to shrink beneath her gaze, opting to sit taller.

When explaining that the spell comes with a cost, Harry squeezes her hand as he steps in to say Hermione paid for this chance for their world with the lives of her parents. Gasps go around the table and even Mrs. Malfoy looks pityingly towards her.

"I was taken by Voldemort," Hermione says, "and imprisoned." She looks to Draco, knowing the vow won't let her say more.

"She was imprisoned at Malfoy Manor," Draco says in even tones.

"You bastard," Ron's snaps at him.

"Ron," Hermione warns. Draco's eyes narrow at the red head.

"She was tortured daily, sometimes more by Bellatrix," Draco continues, looking steadily at Ron who looks ready to throw curses or punches, whichever is easiest.

"Draco," she chastises, "that's not what they need to know." He rolls his eyes with fake laziness at her.

"The dark lord tortured her as well and that is when she offered something up," Draco continues, "the death of Dumbledore." Everyone, excluding the Malfoys and Luna, look shocked and betrayed. Harry turns to her with disbelief burning in his eyes. She looks to her lap as his face turns to a scowl.

"She vowed," Draco says a little louder than before, "with an unbreakable vow that he would be dead before the end of the year and that she would not tell a soul except for those who already know of it."

"Explain," Harry demands to her, a dangerous edge to his voice. She does not look up, but begins to speak.

"I knew from my original time line that Dumbledore was sick. He died at the end of our sixth year, though it wasn't the illness that took him. He had...he had asked Snape to kill him since he was growing weaker and then his death could prove Snape's loyalty. When I was captured, Voldemort came in and...and...anyways he wanted information for the thing Dumbledore had destroyed. I was rather delirious at this point and I told him Dumbledore would die. He took it as an offer. I knew he would die regardless so I made the vow so that I could leave."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Harry whispers.

"He didn't want you or anyone to mourn him while he still lived," Hermione answers softly. "He wanted to have those days untainted with the knowledge." Harry nods slowly. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"We have been working with Dumbledore to make this time different," she says, turning back to the group. "Draco has been helping me. We are much more prepared than we were last time around. We will win this."

Mrs. Malfoy scoffs and looks away.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Ron spits, glaring at Draco. Draco meets his eye with equal displeasure.

"I trust him," she answers. Ron turns his gaze to her, his anger not diminishing, but rather mixing with disbelief and betrayal.

"He's probably playing you," Ron answers back harshly.

"Draco has spent the year helping me," Hermione says, unwilling to back down. It's best to get this all out now, no matter that they're tired and grieving. "We wouldn't be in nearly as great a position now if it wasn't for his help."

"He's who you have been spending all that time with?" Disgust takes over as the predominant emotion on his face as his lips pull back in a sneer. She will not shy away.

"Yes."

"Just because you're shagging him doesn't mean he can be trusted," Ron shoots back. "I would say that even more reason not to trust him." Mrs. Malfoy's eyes go wide and look between Draco and Hermione horrified.

"This is why you brought us here?" she demands. "For your slag?" Draco blushes, but looks equally angry. Hermione's eyebrows reach into her hairline.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," she shouts above the sudden glares and questioning looks being tossed around. "How dare you. I have not been shagging anyone, unlike some people." Ron turns red under her glare. "Draco remembers the war and that is what provided this change of sides. It was terrible and you may not understand that, but I will not tolerate you acting like a child. We have a war going on and if you cannot put aside the past then you cannot stay here. We cannot afford to be fighting among ourselves."

Ron growls and looks to Harry for support. Harry doesn't look away, just shakes his head sadly. Ron's eyes narrow further at the display.

"You can just abandon your friends, weasel," Draco needles him.

"I would never," Ron shouts back.

"You did before," Draco replies calmly. Ron heaves in heavy breaths.

"Ron," Hermione speaks softly. "I think we all need some time to process things. Let's just eat some breakfast and let things settle." Ron grabs his plate and stand.

"I'm not eating with them," he hisses and marches away. Mrs. Malfoy stands after he has left.

"I believe I will take my breakfast in my room as well," she says coldly. "Draco?" He shakes his head and she glares. "Kreature, take my food," she snaps. Kreature looks to Harry who gives him a weary nod and elf and woman disappear out the kitchen door.

"What was that about?" Hermione whispers to Draco. He heaves a sigh.

"Pureblood politics in their finest," he says tiredly, finally slumping in his seat. "She refuses to break bread with this company. Eating with one is an act of alliance or at least agreement not to work against the other." She nods.

"That went rather well," Luna says dreamily. Harry gives her a tired smile. "One of the better possible outcomes," she adds. Hermione scrutinizes her. She's going to have to ask her about that in private.

The remain group sinks into silence at they eat breakfast, the morning having already been too long.

The afternoon finds Hermione wandering the halls alone. She happens upon Mrs. Malfoy speaking with the painting of Mrs. Black.

"He killed her son," she whispers. Mrs. Malfoy swirls around to look at Hermione.

"Excuse me?" she replies coldly.

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD," the painting shrieks. Mrs. Malfoy rolls her eyes and says a spell that cannot be heard over the yelling and then it is silent.

"Give it a rest," Mrs. Malfoy give the painting a long, reprimanding look.

"Voldemort," Hermione speaks. She turns back to the young girl with a cold glare. "Voldemort killed her son."

"Sirius was hardly any son of her's by the time he met his end," Mrs. Malfoy replies. Hermione shakes her head sadly.

"Regulus, her younger son, Voldemort had him killed as well." She doesn't reply. "He had a change of heart, realize that the pain and death wasn't really what he wanted in his life or for this world. When his master, found that out, he had him killed." She regards Hermione with cold, calculating eyes and thin lips.

"Do you think he would have hesitated in killing your son?" the younger witch asks. Her lips press together harder and brows dip low. Hermione walks away without another word. She can think about that for now. Though Hermione wouldn't mind learning that spell.

It was just Harry, Draco, Hermione, and the Lovegoods for dinner. Ron and Mrs. Malfoy insisting on eating in their rooms again.

"Do you think he'll decide to leave?" Hermione asks Harry in a low voice. Draco, on her other side, scowls. Harry shrugs.

"There's an 82% chance he stays," Luna replies airly between bites.

"Excuse me?" Hermione says.

"Though it drops to 37.2% if Draco goes and 'speaks' to him about you."

"What?" The witch looks to Draco who has narrowed eyes at the blonde.

"He wants Ron to know that he can't speak to you like that and it's none of his business who you do and don't shag," she continues as if everything is normal. Hermione turns red, but Draco's color is taking a more green tint.

"Were you?" she whispers.

"64% chance that he decides it's worth it," Luna adds. "Actually," she touches the edge of the fork to her bottom lip, "that's now 97.1% now that he knows it makes it more likely for Ron to leave. Sorry about that." She smiles and takes another bite of the potatoes. Mr. Lovegood looks away, a few salty drops sliding down his face. Luna frowns at her father before looking back at her meal, a bit more subdued.

"How do you know all that, Luna?" Harry asks. Luna smiles brightly.

"I can see it," she says. Harry nods absently, though obviously doesn't understand.

"I'm afraid I must get back to my room," Mr. Lovegood says as he suddenly stands. "The nargles are trying to take it over, you see." He nods and walks away without a backward glance.

"What do you mean "see?"" Hermione brings the attention back to the matter. Luna chuckles.

"With my eyes." Hermione mostly stifles her exasperated sigh.

"What do you see?" she presses. Luna cocks her head to the side and then shrugs.

"Everything," she answers.

"Everything?"

"Yep," she smiles widely.

"I...I don't understand."

"What is...what could be...how likely...everything," she shrugs again.

"Like a...seer?" Harry asks. "Prophecies?" Harry's face is pale. Luna makes a noncommittal head gesture.

"Seers don't remember the prophecies," Hermione reminds.

"Well seers make prophecies and prophets see," Luna says. "It's rather odd, but yes."

"You're a prophet?" Draco gasps. Luna shrugs, but nods. "I thought that was legend. There hasn't been a reported case in 800 years and none of them had been verified."

'Neither had the Deathly Hallows,' Hermione thinks.

"I think the word prophet is a bit gaudy," Luna says with an eye roll. "Mum, thought so too."

"Your mother was a prophet?" Draco asks with obvious disbelief.

"Why yes," Luna beams. "I do miss her."

"So let me get this straight," Harry says, "you see the future."

"Not really," Hermione corrects. "The books I read about it theorize that they see the possible futures since nothing is set in stone and the likeness for each event." Luna nods.

"Could you tell us if we win?" Harry whispers anxiously. Her smile fades and she shakes her head.

"It's so far away," she whispers. "So much could change between now and then. I could not say either way. Plus I would have to prepare to see something that far, it's not like the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Draco says. "You can see two weeks without meditation. How powerful are you?" His eyes sweep over the young witch. She shrugs.

"May I ask you something?" Hermione asks nervously, but scepticism is seeping in. Luna consents. "Can you write down the possible futures for me for tonight along with their likeness and seal it in an envelop? I would like to read them tomorrow." She offers a knowing smile.

"Sure."

One way or another, Hermione will know tomorrow morning. Though tonight she thinks she might need to speak with Draco.