A/N – Thank you so much for every review/message/follow/favorite. I can't express how much it means to me that you all have been following this story. The next chapter is called The Silence and will be posted 03/22.

I hope you and your loved ones are safe and healthy with the spread of COVID-19.

Chapter 18: The Prophecy

May-June

Year 5

As Hermione left her second to last exam, she felt a wave of relief fall over her. Part of her could not help but obsessively wonder what score she would receive in the examinations but there was something comforting in the fact that it was complete, and she had no more control over the outcome. Having spent months in preparation and the past couple weeks studying, Hermione felt confident that she had done well during the written and practical exams so far. She only had one O.W.L. left and she was not nervous. It was for history of magic which was one of her best classes.

Hermione unfolded the message she had received from Draco in her study basket, quickly rereading it with a smile.

You're brilliant, you're amazing, you're going to receive an O in every O.W.L.

Please don't study too hard, make sure to take breaks and eat. I'll send Pinky after you if I have to—and stop rolling your eyes at this message. It was written with love.

PS sorry I ate some of the fudge.

She folded the paper, slipped it into her pocket, and turned towards the empty doorway before her with a quill in her hand. Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled determinedly; she was ready to take her final exam of fifth year.


Draco fiddled with his quill from the back of the great hall, staring at the massive hourglass behind Professor Marchbanks.

"I can't believe they saved history of magic for last," Blaise grumbled from his seat next to Draco, "they scheduled the most boring exam for after lunch—they're just asking us to fall asleep."

Theo made a face, "I'm just glad for this to be over. I'm sick of studying. What do you even do with the information you learn from history of magic?"

"Quiet down! Examinations will begin shortly," Professor Marchbanks declared, his voice echoing through the great hall as he amplified his words.

"Use it to teach history of magic," Blaise whispered, answering Theo's question with a smirk.

Marchbanks waved his wand, "you may begin."

The blank parchment in front of Draco filled with words, and he scanned through the questions. His stomach settled when he realized that he knew the answers to the first page of questions. Half of the questions he had heard Hermione talk about during their study dates; in fact, he distinctly remembered Hermione mumbling about number three in her sleep last month.

He dipped his quill in the ink pot on his desk before scribbling his first answer.

The International Confederation of Wizards was founded by Pierre Bonaccord in the 1600s, he was the first appointed Supreme Mugwump and famous for his stance on Troll rights. The warlocks of Liechtenstien had a long history of conflict with the Troll communities adjacent to their city and did not support Bonaccord's platform.

Draco paused before continuing, thinking back to Hermione's story about how she, Ron, and Harry fought a troll in their first year. A small smile pulled at his lips at the thought of Hermione in their first year, with her frizzy hair and big attitude. That first day on the train when she stormed into his life. He blinked, checking the hourglass, he needed to focus—he dipped his quill again.

When he was about halfway through with his exam, there was the sound of a grunt and the scraping of a chair on the stone floor; Draco tore his eyes away from the parchment in front of him and to the commotion behind him.

Harry Potter had fallen out of his exam chair onto the floor, clutching his head and groaning. Draco immediately looked to Theo, whose face had drained of all colour.

Theo was halfway out of his seat before anyone else could react, he rushed past several desks and knelt on the hard floor next to Harry, whispering inaudibly to him as Harry held his head with both hands.

Suddenly, Professor Tofty appeared next to Harry and Theo. The old wizard dismissed Theo with a pat on the back as he swept Harry out of the great hall. The students erupted in chatter as Theo slowly walked back to his seat, looking shaken.

"Told you they were just asking someone to fall asleep," Blaise chuckled, "never schedule an exam after lunch."

Theo snarled, "he wasn't asleep—"

"Silence!" Professor Marchbanks exclaimed, "you must stay in your seat without talking. If you do not complete your examination during the allotted time period, you will be forced to retake the exam or risk failure of the course!"

The students quieted down, looking nervously between each other—no one was interested in retaking this class.

Draco tried to turn his attention back to his parchment but his mind kept wandering. Harry had been holding his head—or was it his scar? Draco's stomach flipped anxiously, he hoped it was unrelated to Hermione's stories about Harry's mental connection to the Dark Lord.


"And that is time," Professor Marchbanks announced, referencing the giant hourglass before him.

With a quick wave of his wand, the parchment flew out of Hermione's hands and into a neat pile at the front of the great hall. She looked nervously at Harry's empty desk, wondering what had caused his outburst.

Professor Tofty had returned after escorting Harry out of the great hall and Tofty had quietly assured Hermione and Ron that Harry was simply feeling ill from the stress of examinations. Hermione was skeptical that exams were the reason that Harry had collapsed. They had spent the entire morning and lunch together with nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed unlikely he would suddenly fall ill so quickly.

She strode into the corridor, looking around for Ron as she overheard bits and pieces of conversations.

"…hospital wing…"

"—scar!"

"—heard he collapsed—"

"Harry Potter."

She increased her pace, pushing through the clusters of students who were discussing the recently completed exams and Harry's disruption in the great hall. Ron found her at the exact moment she noticed him.

"Hermione!" Ron jogged up to her, "I don't believe for a minute what old Tofty said about Harry."

"Neither do I, it just doesn't make sense—have you seen him yet?" She questioned, looking around the busy hall.

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry called, sprinting through the crowd, bumping into shoulders and nearly knocking over an unsuspecting third year.

Hermione rushed forward first, "Harry! What happened? Are you actually ill? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"No—I actually came from the hospital wing, come with me," he gestured and led them along the corridor to an open classroom.

Shutting the door behind him, he turned to Ron and Hermione, "I had another vision, Voldemort has Sirius in the department of mysteries. I saw it."

Hermione felt the walls of the classroom close in on her as she inhaled sharply, "what?" she asked, trying to process his words.

"He's going to kill him," Harry's face was grave as he continued, "we have to go save him."


"What is with you two today?" Blaise complained loudly, "we just finished exams, you should be excited! Why do you look like someone spit in your morning tea?"

Theo shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

"It's been a long week, Blaise, I think we are just going to go back to the dungeons to relax. Don't let us stop you from having a good time though, I heard there's an end of year party going on in the Slytherin common room tonight." Draco added, "you should go have fun."

"I'm not going without my best mates; I need some wingmen!"

"I don't think we would make good wingmen tonight," Draco muttered, placing a hand on Blaise's shoulder, "we will make it up to you, I promise."

Blaise frowned, "you're serious?"

Looking to Theo whose face was stone cold, Blaise raised his eyebrows, "okay, but you owe me one!"

As he walked backwards away from the pair, Blaise called out, "I'm cashing in on that next year, one party owed to Blaise Zabini."

"What do you think is going on?" Draco asked Theo worriedly, lowering his voice.

"I couldn't make out much, but when I went to Harry, he said 'my scar' and 'Voldemort'." Theo hesitated, "did Hermione tell you about his visions?"

"She did," he confirmed, "do you think it happened again?"

"I've been with him, during some of those moments when he's seeing the department of mysteries," Theo sighed, "it looked exactly the same, he had that look in his eye but he was more panicked than usual. I don't know what he saw."

"Let me see if Granger responds."

Draco sent Hermione a message to her band, then a second, third, fifth. When he received no response, he turned to Theo.

Draco hesitated, "I don't know how to tell you this, mate, but do you remember the second Triwizard task? How I could tell Granger was far away because of our binding?"

Theo eyed Draco uneasily, "yes…"

"I think they've left the castle."

Theo and Draco decided to camp out in Theo's room in the dungeons until Harry and Hermione returned. They commiserated over their shared anxiety.

"Do we go to dinner?" Draco asked, eyeing the time.

"Do you have an appetite?" Theo asked.

"No."

"Me either."

Several tense moments passed, "this was much easier last time," Theo bemoaned, "we barely had to wait an hour while they were in the second challenge last year. It's been, what, four hours now?"

"Four hours and we have no idea where they went. At least they were supervised for the tournament. Where do you think they're at?"

"I'm not sure. But if they left the castle immediately after our exam then it must be somewhere important, right?" Theo speculated.

"Merlin, if they went and decided to—"

There was a rapid knocking on the door to Theo's room, he looked to Draco who shrugged in confusion, "expecting company?"

Theo swung open the door and found Blaise standing there with a giant grin.

"I brought firewhiskey!" Blaise declared, holding out a large bottle of Ogden's finest.

Theo looked down at the bottle, took it from Blaise, and proceeded to shut the door in his face.

Draco could faintly hear Blaise's protests from behind the closed door.

"Can't you stupefy me again?" Draco asked desperately, "I barely had to wait through it last time because I was unconscious."

Theo was opening the bottle of Ogden's and paused, glaring at Draco who quickly shut up. He poured two large glasses, handing one to Draco silently.

Draco raised a trembling glass to his lips, "why couldn't we have taken to some nice Slytherins who wouldn't put us through this shite?"

Theo looked down as he took a large swig, grimacing at the taste, "I wonder that every day."

Draco suddenly bent over, feeling as though his chest was on fire, he dropped the glass and it shattered on the hard dungeon floor.

"What the hell, Draco?" Theo muttered, cleaning up the spill and casting a quick reparo on the broken glass.

"Something's wrong," he wheezed out, using his hands to balance his weight onto his knees.

"Not this again," Theo tilted his head back in frustration, "obviously, she's gone, we know they're both gone."

"No," Draco argued, "it's different; after we got our bands I could always feel her, it's just faint when she's far away—but right now it feels weak, like it's damaged. Do you think she's hurt?"

Theo swore under his breath, "I don't know. There's no telling what they'd do, but you must admit they have a penchant for danger. Damn Gryffindors."

Several glasses of whiskey later, Theo and Draco were anything but subdued. If fact, the alcohol was fueling their anxiety.

"I'm just saying, what if we just go find them? You know? Go find them and bring their arses back to the castle." Draco proposed, his drink sloshing as he gesticulated with the glass in his hand, "we should put trackers on them one of these days, that way when they do shite like this we can at least find them."

"Yes," Theo agreed enthusiastically, "they need us Slytherins to break this habit of them almost dying every year. Who ever thought to put all the kids with zero self-preservation in the same house? That's j-just," he hiccupped, "just asking for trouble."

"Merlin knows how they've survived this far—did Harry ever tell you about the troll?" Draco asked, his words slurring slightly.

Theo stared, his eyes lidded, "no, he didn't. I couldn't be less surprised."

"They—" Draco paused, either he was drunker than he thought, or his band just burned.

We're safe

So sorry

H&H

Draco fell back against the back of the chair, closing his eyes, "Granger just sent me a message. Said they're safe. Said sorry."

Theo sucked a breath in through his teeth, "what a way to spend a night. Should we take some pepper-up potion and try to get some sleep before our wayward Gryffindors return?"

Draco let out a dry laugh, "yeah. Sleep. Sure. I'm going to wait in the room of req—the come-and-go room for her."

"Cheers, mate." Theo raised his glass to Draco, draining the rest of his whiskey.


Draco was unable to calm down enough to sleep, instead he laid on the sofa in the come-and-go-room and waited for Hermione to show up. He jumped at every noise, looking to the door every few minutes.

Finally, just after dawn, the door creaked opened. Draco's legs moved quicker than his consciousness, he was on his way to the door before it was completely open.

"Granger," he breathed out, relief overwhelming his senses.

She looked at him with wide eyes, his gaze caught on a sliver of agitated skin visible on her chest.

Draco's hand reached up to touch it, his eyes met hers, "what is this?" His voice was deadly quiet.

"I'm okay, I've been healed and I'm completely healthy, it's okay," she reflexively touched the healing wound.

"Hermione." Draco's eyes did not move from the spot, now covered by her hand.

He lifted her hand away, carefully pulling aside her blouse to reveal a deep purple red mark across her chest. He stumbled back; the wind knocked out of him.

"Hermione," he repeated, his eyes shining as he looked at her, the vein in his jaw protruded.

"It doesn't even hurt anymore, and it's going to go away, it won't scar," she assured him.

"Are you kidding me? I don't care about a scar." He whispered, "what happened last night?"

"Dolohov—a curse—the department of mysteries," she mumbled the fragments, unwilling to look him in the eye.

He knew it the moment he felt their bond weaken; she had been hurt—she had been cursed. She could have died. He sucked in a shaky breath.

"After the exam, Harry and I tricked Umbridge into the forbidden forest where the centaurs took her away. Then Harry, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Ron, and I went to the department of mysteries last night. The memory he had during history of magic was a false memory—a trap set by Voldemort."

The cadence of his breathing increased with every word.

"You broke into the Ministry? Not just that—the department of mysteries?! What would ever possess you to do something so utterly moronic?" He questioned, his eyes ablaze, "I don't know whether to be relieved that you didn't die or furious you were there to begin with! Do you know what the past day has been like for me? Theo and I have been an absolute mess, we spent the entire night wondering if you two were dead or alive!"

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest, "I understand that you were worried, I do, but I don't appreciate your tone. I had to go, I had to be there for Harry. We had backup—"

"—Fucking Longbottom and Lovegood is not backup, it's a suicide mission," he spat.

She blinked quickly as her eyes filled with tears, "but I had—" her voice broke.

Draco faltered; his arms fell to his sides. He took a deep breath, the air expanding his lungs.

"I know, I know, you and that Gryffindor loyalty; I'll never understand." He looked to the ground, "I've never been so fucking terrified in my entire life."

Her lip quivered.

"Granger," he wrapped his arms around her, "don't ever do that to me again."

She nodded into his shoulder.

"Did you miss the part where I told you the centaurs took Umbridge in the forbidden forest?" She mumbled, "I'm pretty proud of that part, it was a really satisfying end to the year."

He kissed her curls, resting his chin on the top of her head, "just stop talking for a moment…let me hold you, okay? I just really need this right now."

They embraced in silence for several minutes; the only audible sound was their breathing and the crackle of the fireplace.

Finally, Draco led her over to the sofa where they sat down. He pulled her legs across his lap, his hands resting on her thighs.

He sighed, his eyes closed, "I'm ready. Tell me the whole story. What happened?"

Hermione picked at her nails nervously as she retold the story of her night, "well, remember how we talked about the department of mysteries and Harry's visions? The rooms were always empty until his last vision. He saw his godfather, Sirius Black, being tortured by Voldemort in the department of mysteries. I told him it had to have been a trap, but he didn't listen to me, I tried to get him to listen to me."

"It was obviously a trap," he grumbled, his hand tightening on her leg.

"He tried to floo call Sirius from Umbridge's office and we were found by Pansy."

"Fucking Pansy."

"She brought back Umbridge and they thought we were trying to call Dumbledore. Umbridge tried to use veritaserum and the cruciatus curse on Harry."

"Fucking Umbridge."

"I lied and told her we had a secret weapon in the forbidden forest, which is how we lured her out there. The centaurs did the rest of the work, honestly, and I have no idea where she is right now. We rode thestrals to the Ministry and broke into the department of mysteries. I can finally tell you what's in there," she added uncomfortably, "though we mostly spent our time in the Hall of Prophecy. That's where we found the death eaters."

Draco held his breath as she continued. His chest felt heavy at the words, death eaters.

"Your aunt was there," her voice cracked, "she—" Hermione swallowed, "she murdered Sirius Black."

He slowly rubbed circles into her leg as she spoke, his eyes crinkling at the corners in concern.

She hesitated, "your father was there too. I saw him, I could recognize his voice and hair behind the mask."

Draco inhaled sharply, feeling as though he was hit in the gut. She just confirmed his suspicions that his father was actively taking orders from the Dark Lord. His father could have killed Hermione. He felt a rage boil under his skin at the thought, the feeling was second only to his desire to protectively take Hermione in his arms and never let her leave his sight again.

"There's something else," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible, "when everyone was battling in the Hall of Prophecy, I found an old prophecy, tucked near the back. It felt like it called to me, I didn't know how or why but I was drawn to it. The prophecy was marked for the fifth of June."

His breath caught in his throat, "my birthday?"

"The exact night of your birth—1980." She added quietly.

"What did it say?" Draco asked uneasily, he was not convinced that he wanted to know the answer.

She closed her eyes as she recited the eerie words that haunted her thoughts, "a bond forged of blood and desperation will forever change hearts and minds—the final blow at the last hour to the one who has never known love, twice befallen by the love of a mother."

Draco felt the air leave his lungs all at once.

Hermione opened her eyes, they were filled with fear, "it was unmarked, unidentified, but I think it's about us."

"The final blow at the last hour to the one who has never known love," Draco repeated, mulling over the words, "what do you think that means?"

"I have no idea," she admitted honestly, "the one who has never known love? That could mean so many forms of love. Does it mean romantic love? Familial love? Brotherly love? How could our bond be a final blow to anything?"

She turned to him seriously, "Draco, your father was there, he saw me holding the prophecy. I dropped it and ran; it was glass and the fall destroyed it, but he saw me—and the date of the plaque."

"You and glass," Draco quipped weakly.

Hermione sighed deeply, "love, he saw that the prophecy was for your birthday. I think we have kept this secret long enough."

He turned away from her; his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Draco," Hermione started.

"No." He shook his head quickly, "absolutely not."

"We have to tell him."

Draco felt the rushing sound of his blood echoing in his ears at her words, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

She gently caressed his cheek with her thumb, "we can't hide it forever. Love, it's time."

He covered her hand with his, closing his eyes; he paused for several moments before nodding.

"You said Umbridge is gone, right?"

"Yes." Hermione confirmed quietly.

"Her office is empty? The one with a fireplace connected to the floo network?"

"Yes," the corner of Hermione's mouth perked up, "astute observation, my love. Shall we?"

"Malfoy Manor." Draco wrapped one arm protectively around Hermione as he threw the floo powder down aggressively; green flame enveloped the couple as they disappeared from the fireplace in Umbridge's office.

Narcissa's heels clicked inauspiciously on the wooden floor as she quickly approached the receiving room. The familial blood wards triggered upon Draco's arrival. If Narcissa could sense Draco, so could Lucius, and she had an inkling that Draco was not alone.

She opened the door to the receiving room just as Draco and Hermione were patting off soot that stuck to their clothes from the travel. She let out a breath of relief that she found the pair before her husband.

"Draco, Hermione, what are you doing here?" Narcissa asked sharply, looking over her shoulder, "your father is home."

"Hermione told me about the department of mysteries, mother." Draco said, his tone accusatory, "she told me about father."

Narcissa looked to Hermione remorsefully, "I am so sorry about that. They should be ashamed, attacking children like that—no matter what the mission was from the Dark Lord."

"We need to tell father." Draco asserted "what if this happens again? What if father…" he looked to Hermione and back to Narcissa, "what if he doesn't know about the bond and he hurts her? I would never forgive him."

Narcissa waited a beat, weighing the options in her head.

A low voice drawled from behind Narcissa, stepping into view, "would somebody like to explain to me exactly what is going on in my home?"

Lucius Malfoy looked at Draco who stepped protectively in front of Hermione, one arm reaching behind to her and the other grasping his wand defensively. Lucius tilted his head as he surveyed his son and Hermione with a scathing look.

His eyes focused on the hand that Hermione had placed on Draco's arm, his mouth tightened into a straight line, "Narcissa. A word?"

Narcissa looked sharply to Draco and Hermione, giving them a small nod, "take her into the parlour. We will join you shortly."

"What the hell is going on, Narcissa? Why is she in our home?"

Lucius paused, "even better question, why do you not look surprised that our son is touching the mudblood?" Lucius spat, his tone seething vitriol.

"I knew this day would come but I had hoped it would be under more ideal circumstances." Narcissa admitted, "will you please sit?"

"Absolutely not, you will tell me what is going on before I curse it out of our son myself."

Narcissa sighed deeply, "very well, you deserve to know. After all, you are one of the few people who knew Bella before…who truly knows what happened to her."

Lucius' entire body tensed, his eyes narrowed, "Narcissa. You didn't."

She straightened her posture, "I did. Andromeda and I did," she amended, "the night he was born."

"You're telling me that you took our heir, our only child, and cast the binding on him without telling me?!" His voice rose uncharacteristically in outrage as he began to pace, "you lied to me!"

"Of all the idiotic, bullheaded things you could have done…the girl..." Lucius stopped abruptly, "it is the girl?"

Narcissa looked away, unwilling to make eye contact.

Lucius slammed his cane down in frustration, "how? How is it her? How do you know?"

"Lucius, there is no doubt in my mind. It is her. It has always been her."

"But she is a mud—"

"Muggleborn," Narcissa interjected, "yes. I am aware."

He bristled at the correction, "you have put me in a terrible position, I hope you know that. I will write to Yaxley, he will have this little problem resolved by morning."

"Resolved? What do you intend to do?" She asked, alarmed at his suddenly calm demeanor.

"He will dispose of the girl; it is of little matter. That school is a death trap waiting to happen. Yaxley is skilled at creating 'accidents' and no one will be the wiser. She will simply be the victim of a tragic accident while celebrating the end of the school year. Then Draco can go on to marry a pureblood wife of our choosing and he will continue the family line as was always the plan."

"No, Lucius, absolutely not!" Narcissa contended passionately, "you cannot do that to him. He will never forgive you." She paused, "he loves the girl. I have seen it myself."

"Love? We have no room for love; you do realize we are at war? She is not only the opposing side—she is the best mate of Harry fucking Potter and quite possibly the most famous mudblood at Hogwarts because of it." He threw his cane down in anger, "I am trying to save us. I can still fix this before it is too late."

"It is already too late," Narcissa murmured, "they are connected as I have never seen before. They have become one. Lucius, you cannot hurt her without destroying any relationship you have with your son."

Lucius finally sat down, closing his eyes, "Narcissa, how could you have let it get this far? How could you let them entertain the idea that they could be anything? You and I know they could never be and to pretend otherwise is a fool's dream." Lucius' voice filled with wrath, "you have ruined his life."

"How dare you?" Her voice shook with rage, "I have saved his life."

"You realize his connection to her is diametrically opposed to everything we believe in? Everything we have ever known? Against our entire mission with the Dark Lord? The position you have put me in is impossible. How am I supposed to carry out his will knowing that my own wife and son are off cavorting with mudbloods? That my own wife and son are blood traitors?" He spat the words.

A slap cut through the air, Narcissa stood with her hand out as Lucius' cheek grew red from impact.

"I would rather be a blood traitor than continue down this path you have brought us on." Her voice dripped with distain, "if you cannot move past this then you will lose us both."

Several moments passed.

He finally broke the silence, "I have been in talks with the Greengrass family for Draco's marriage after Hogwarts. I fully intend to bring this courtship to fruition."

"Though it is not ideal, given the circumstances I feel I could be moved to look past it. Draco would not be the first Lord Malfoy to have a mistress on the side while still doing his duty to provide pureblood heirs." Lucius conceded grudgingly, "though precautions would have to be taken to ensure he does not sire filthy bastards with the mudblood."

"I am going to let this momentary lapse of sanity go because I know that you are in shock, but you must never mention that asinine idea to our son. Or to Hermione for that matter." She said coolly.

He inhaled sharply at Narcissa's words as his lips contorted in revulsion, "Hermione? Since when do we address mudbloods as equals?"

"Lucius…If it were not for her blood, I truly believe you would come to like her." Narcissa argued, "she is top of her class, brilliant actually, despite her upbringing."

Lucius scoffed in disbelief, "stop trying to sway me when you know what this has done to us. I cannot believe you lied to me for years. I will never forgive you—or Draco—for keeping this from me. I do not care what she has accomplished. She could be the fucking Minister for Magic and she would still be the absolute worst thing to ever happen to this family."

Narcissa watched him silently as he fumed.

He stood up decisively, "he is not yet of age, we still have time. We can change his mind; he is still impressionable."

Narcissa bluffed, "he has expressed to me that he would rather give up the family name and inheritance than agree to marry another. He will not leave her, certainly not for the Greengrass girl."

He closed his eyes in irritation, mulling over the concept of disowning his only heir, "oh Cissa. There are many things I have done that I am not proud of but at least they were all done for the good of the family. What good is it all if there is no family anymore?"

Lucius turned to her seriously, "how will we ever survive this?"

She reached for his hand, gently stroking his sore cheek, "we are Malfoys. We always survive. We will survive this as Malfoys always have, as a family."


Draco paced the parlour for the hundredth time since his parents left. Hermione hesitantly reached for his arm.

"It's going to be okay," she mumbled into his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart against her cheek.

"You know what? Fuck him." Draco growled, his voice low, "I know what he's saying right now to my mother. I saw the look of disgust in his eyes when he looked at you."

He tapped his hand anxiously against his thigh as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"If he asks me to pick, him or you, you know that I would pick you—right?" Draco muttered.

Hermione tightened her arms around him, "let's hope it doesn't come to that. He's still your father."

The doorknob to the room clicked as it twisted open, the door creaking softly.

She stepped away from Draco, but he wrapped his arm back around her waist, tugging her against him defensively. Hermione felt his fingers tighten against her hip possessively as he watched the doorway.

Narcissa Malfoy stepped through, looking as if she had aged several years since they saw her in the receiving room.

"Pinky is bringing tea, if you would like to stay." Narcissa gestured politely to the table, "your father will not be joining us."

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek anxiously, "did you tell him?"

Narcissa flicked her eyes to Hermione, "yes. He is not speaking to me at the moment, but we have been through worse."

"I want to talk with him." Draco insisted, "I need him to understand."

"Oh Draco," Narcissa tutted softly, "my sweet son. I know you mean well, but your father needs time to process. He is not ready to talk with you. You must understand, I have known about Hermione for years and you have—in a way—always known. Your father has known less than twenty minutes. He needs time."

"His entire worldview just shifted," Hermione agreed softly, feeling woozy at the thought, "was he furious?"

Narcissa pursed her lips, "he will take time. You two were correct, after recent events he should know the full picture. I do believe this complicates family matters significantly. Were you aware that he was in the midst of a marriage contract for you?"

Hermione felt Draco's body harden as he tensed against her, "no," he said, his voice strained, "I was unaware of any pre-marital discussions."

His hand dug into her side, she shifted uncomfortably in place. She suddenly felt lightheaded; his father was arranging Draco's marriage? Ever since she found out about the bond, about his feelings, she had never even considered a future where they did not end up together.

All at once she realized how completely naive she has been—a child, really. Between their secret meetings, playing house last summer, and dinner with her parents, somewhere along the line she had forgotten that this was his past, present, and future. He was a pureblood of noble birth, of titles and fortune.

Sacred twenty-eight.

His entire existence up to this point had been preparation for a future that Hermione did not fit into. She was the triangle piece to the square hole of his life. He was destined to graduate Hogwarts, to marry a beautiful and refined pureblood wife, to have pureblood babies that he would raise in their society; he would take over the family business and eventually become Lord of Malfoy Manor. He and his pureblood wife would host galas and charity auctions together, Sunday tea with their families.

Where was there room for Hermione? Where did she fit in their plan? There was no room for her advocacy, her aspirations to work at the Ministry, for her muggle parents or her love of reading and quiet Sundays by the lake. There was no room in his future for her.

She felt the room spin around her as the Narcissa and Draco talked, their words became ambient noise that blurred together as she blinked slowly, trying to balance herself.

Narcissa's voice called out abruptly as Hermione felt herself tipping backwards. Draco guided her to the small sitting chair next to them. She placed her head between her knees as she gasped for air.

"Hermione?!" Draco's voice sounded panicked and broke through the buzzing in her ears.

"I'm okay," she declared, "I just need a moment to breathe, I'm okay—I promise."

She felt her stomach turn, she was going to be sick.

Out of her peripheral, Hermione saw Draco and his mother share a worried look.

He said something to his mother. His words were fuzzy in her mind.

"…panic attack…cursed…"

She pinpointed the words, squeezing her eyes shut as she shook her head.

Hermione felt the pressure of Draco's arm wrapping around her shoulder, the other under her knees as he carried her back to the receiving room.

"I'm going to take you home," he murmured softly, she tucked her head against his chest, her lip shivering at his words.

That was impossible, of course, to bring her home when she was in his arms. She was already there.


It was the last day of school, Hermione and Draco had designated a time to meet before the train arrived to bring students home for the summer.

"I wish I could go to the manor with you again this year," she lamented, "I bet Charles is getting cocky in my absence."

Draco fought back a smile, "can't have a peacock getting cocky. I'll keep him in his place, just for you. We can handle a summer apart, knowing that we will be back together next year."

Hermione's eyes began to sting as they filled with tears, she looked up at Draco, "I'm going to miss you."

He wrapped his arms around her fully.

"I got you a surprise," she gave him a watery smile as she reached into her bag, "I found a way to enchant these notebooks. That way we can have full conversations instead of just a few words on our bands."

Draco grinned, his eyes lighting up with pride, "have I ever told you that you're brilliant? I should tell you that more often."

"When you write in it, the words will disappear from your side once I open it on my end. Then you will know when I read your letters and I will know when you read mine." She explained, "it's like being a quill pal but without owls having to transport the letters back and forth."

"I'll write in it every day," he promised with a kiss to her forehead, "but you, my love, have to go. We are going to be late for the train otherwise."

Hermione's shoulders slumped forward sadly, "I know, you're right. One more kiss before I go?"

"Of course, and a thousand kisses when you're back," he promised softly, his lips brushing against hers.


Hermione finished packing the last of her trunk before looking around her empty dorm. Another year had come and gone so quickly. Next year they would be sixth years and taking N.E.W.T.s, and she would turn seventeen. She would be a legal adult, no more trace and she could apparate freely outside of Hogwarts.

She wondered slyly if Draco had found the galleon that she had slipped into the back pocket of his trousers during their goodbye kiss yet. She was going to win this galleon war.

"'Mione, you ready?" Ron asked, checking the time.

He and Harry stood up from the common room sofa as she made her way down the stairs from the girls' dorm with her trunk.

"Ready," she nodded with a smile.

The night Hermione arrived home she cracked open her notebook, it was blank. She wrote a couple quick sentences.

Hi love!

I'm excited to have this notebook to talk with you this summer. I wish I could come back to the manor and we could spend the summer together again. I miss our days in the garden and our nights in the library. Hopefully Pinky makes those chocolate scones for your homecoming, my mouth is watering just thinking about them! I love you and I miss you already. I hope you're still able to have a great summer, I can't wait to hear all about it. Tell your mother I say hello!

Love,

H

Before falling asleep, she sent Draco a message to his band with a sad smile, miss you.

She woke up in the morning and opened the notebook with anticipation. It quickly faded, her note from the night before was still on the page. Draco must not have had time to read it on his side, she reasoned, planning to check it again after an outing with her parents.

Hermione tapped her quill impatiently, opening the notebook once more. She was three weeks into summer, and she had nothing. No messages in her notebook from Draco; her messages to him spanned several pages now but were still unread. He had not opened his notebook even once. She glanced down at her ring accusingly, it had not burned since before school ended; she had sent him nearly a dozen messages over the weeks.

You okay? She sent his band, I'm worried about you

She waited several minutes before sending, talk to me?

Hermione sent him another plea, the last message she would send him that summer.

Please

Silence.

A/N – And that ends year 5 😊 any predictions/hopes/fears for their year 6?