Although Hermione did not recognize the room she was in, she could guess. There was a long table down the center with fourteen chairs on each side in addition to the two at the heads of the table. Narcissa Malfoy was sitting to the right of the empty head seat. Slowly spooning her soup into her mouth. Malfoy Manor.
A mere second after the scene swam into view; the large double doors swung open. Draco scurried into the room. He quickly reached the table and awkwardly clambered into his seat. Narcissa, barely disrupting her spoon's path, looked to her son. She set down the utensil and turned her full attention to the young boy.
"Draco," Narcissa spoke quietly, with a reproachful tone only a mother could manage, "The healer said you had to wear the brace until the end of the holiday." Draco grimaced, "You have another three days." With a grumble, Draco produced a sling that Hermione remembered well from the inside of his robe. He slung it over his head and, with apparent difficulty, wrapped its straps around his arm.
No sooner had Draco tucked into his dinner - one-handedly due to his cast - than Narcissa spoke again, "Your father will not be home for another two days. There's no need to hide the brace until then." She took another sip of soup, "And why do you insist on not telling your father about this?"
"He can't know about the bird!" Draco looked frenzied.
"It's a hippogriff, dear." Narissa tilted her head to look at her son with a more skeptical eye, "Is this about that Granger girl?" Narcissa's eyebrow arched at her son's silence, "Priscilla mentioned Ms. Granger requested information on trials against XXX beasts from the Policy Division." Draco remained silent, "Your father will find out when he returns. He's a Governor." Draco's grimace made Hermione think Draco had forgotten his father's position. "If you tell your father about your interest in the hippogriff, he might be able to find a compromise with the other Governors -"
Draco finally snapped, "I don't care about the stupid Hippogriff or the stupid mudblood."
"Draco." Narcissa scolded lowly, "If I've told you once, I've told you-"
"That I'll regret using 'that word'-"
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you don't get rid of that face right now-"
The memory fell apart just as Narcissa was hitting her stride. Hermione would have to ask for a full recount of that reprimand.
The breeze was the first thing Hermione was made aware of when the new scene came into view. She stood right outside the castle, on a hill overlooking Hagrid's hut. There were six students arguing, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Despite there being six kids, only Draco and Hermione could be heard bickering.
That is until Hermione jabbed her wand into Draco's throat, and Ron yelled, "Hermione, don't! He's not worth it." The girl lowered her wand and turned to lead her friends back into the castle, but Draco's and his friends' chortling halted her. Hermione, in one fluid motion, spun and punched Draco in the face.
Young Hermione filled with pride, but Older Hermione was hit with a sharp pain between her eyes as well as Draco's shock. What surprised her was when that shock, and most of the pain was drowned out by a fierce protectiveness.
"Let's go," Draco ordered his cronies, dragging them both back into the castle.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione laughed as the three Slytherins ran back into the castle. The boys congratulated their friend for standing up to the mean blonde. Older Hermione couldn't stay and watch the friendly exchange; she had to jog to keep up with the Slytherin trio.
Hermione followed them through the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. As soon as the three boys reached the dungeons, Crabbe and Goyle stopped. Draco, still rubbing his nose, looked at his bodyguards warily.
"Don't worry, Malfoy. We'll get her back." Crabbe spoke while Goyle cracked his knuckles in agreement, "Filthy Mudblood won't know what hit her." The goons moved to amble back up the stairs.
"No." Draco's voice was deadly quiet, "She. Is. Mine." Draco glared at the two boys, each almost twice his size, with a determination she had never seen on a child so young, "I will be the one to get my revenge, and I will not stand for you two bumbling morons screwing that up."
There was a tense silence. Crabbe and Goyle looked confused, but Hermione could see the self-doubt in Draco's eye even if the goons couldn't. It helped that Hermione could feel the protectiveness coursing freely through his veins.
"Fine, Malfoy. She's all yours. That plan of yours better be good."
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Hermione was dropped in the middle of the chaos of the Death Eater raid at the World Cup. She fought her way out of the crowd to the outskirts of the campground, where soft grass gave way to roots and towering trees. She knew it was only in a memory and that all the perpetrators were now locked up or dead, but Hermione's heart still raced, and her palms became damp. Light danced across the treeline, and Hermione saw him.
Fourteen-year-old Draco leaned against a large trunk. His casual stance gave away none of the panic or the dread that was currently tormenting his mind. Lazily, his eyes scanned the edge of the crowd. Waiting. Watching. His mind raced, jumping from one horrible scenario to another. He kept an eye on the floating muggles. Hermione could feel him searching the floating group. She felt the lack of recognition and the subsequent relief.
What felt like hours later, both to Hermione and the young boy, he sagged against the tree, and relief reached every inch of his body. Had Hermione not had her eyes trained on the boy, she would have missed it since no sooner had the transformation occurred than his nonchalant, devil-may-care, countenance was back in place. She looked over her shoulder to the source of such a change in the blonde boy. Two boys and a girl ran from the crowd; their own faces turned to look over their shoulders. Hermione didn't need to see their faces; she knew it was Harry, Ron, and her.
The trio drew closer to Draco and was shocked when they heard his lazy drawl taunting them. They threw insults this way and that, about parents and financial situations, but as the trio began to turn away, to run back into the crowd to find the others, Hermione felt the panic course through the blonde boy's veins.
"Granger, they're after Muggles. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around…they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh." Draco taunted, finally pushing away from the tree. When younger Hermione looked away from the blonde boy, and Harry stepped between the pair, annoyance and hurt hit older Hermione in waves from the blonde boy.
"Hermione's a witch." Harry bristled.
Determination and protectiveness. They've come to be commonplace in these memories. He sneered at the bespeckled boy, "Have it your own way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
Ron took a step into Hermione. Harry shot some response at Malfoy before pulling his two friends away. Draco felt nothing but relief as he watched their retreating figures.
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She was back in the library with Draco. He sat at a table in the back corner with a clear view of a diligently-working brunette. Hermione. Factions warred within his head. Images of Lucius and Narcissa floated by. Followed by the muggles suspended in the air at the World Cup. Then Hermione's frightened face. The goblet of fire. Harry Potter. With what could only be described as a growl, Draco stood, shoving back from his table with such force that his chair toppled. The noise did not bother the library's only other occupant; she was too engrossed in her assignments.
Draco, more and more convinced that she would notice him and shoo him away with each step he took, crossed the floor. When he stood right behind her, and she still hadn't noticed him, a new bout of dread flickered through his mind. She would never survive a war with senses like this. It was only when he sat in the seat opposite her that she finally looked up.
"Malfoy!" She scolded, her hand racing to her heart, "You startled me! I didn't realize anyone else was here so late."
"Tsk tsk tsk." He leaned back on the chairs back legs, "Granger, Granger, Granger. Pitiful show. If I were a murderer you'd be dead by now."
"I don't exactly expect to be accosted in the library." She crossed her arms.
"If you're going to stay friends with Potter, you better get used to it. Evil doesn't care where it finds you, only that it does."
Scowling now, Hermione reminded, "Evil will never be able to enter Hogwarts as long as Professor Dumbledore is Headmaster." Draco smirked at her naivete. Poor girl actually believes that. He twirled the ring that sat on his ring finger. The same one that had contained a piece of his soul.
"Word of advice, Granger," He ignored her protest, "Don't put such faith in an old man. I also recommend distancing yourself from the old man and Potter. War is coming. The only way you will survive is away from them." Before her protests could grow louder, Draco stood, summoning his things to him, and left.
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"Mother." Draco addressed the blonde woman in a dark green gown, "I did not know you, and Father would be attending." He was on pins and needles, his head swiveling, scanning the crowd.
"Draco, dear," Narcissa enveloped her son, now as tall as her, into a hug, "It was last minute. Your father is away on business, somewhere in Romania, as I understand. I volunteered to come in his place." She held him at arm's length, "Now, where is your date? Ms. Parkinson, am I correct?" Draco jerked his head towards the punch station. "Oh. Well, Priscilla and Cassandra would not be too pleased about that." Narcissa was off, ready to act as a surrogate mother to Pansy and Daphne Greengrass, who were spiking their punch with Daphne's flask. Draco sighed, scanning the hall for Crabbe or Goyle. He was bored and needed entertainment. A collective gasp drew his attention to the door. The Champions were entering the hall with their partners. Draco rolled his eyes at the Hogwarts students, but Hermione could feel admiration radiating from Draco as the others entered.
Fleur floated along, her grace was evident. Draco's opinion of Roger Davies improved; if Fleur saw fit to invite him, clearly the bloke couldn't be awful. He wrinkled his nose at Krum, but as his eyes slid to Krum's date, a new emotion flickered in his stomach.
"She's beautiful." Narcissa surprised her son, who had been too engrossed in observing the mystery girl to notice his mother's approach. "And you said she was intelligent, as well. She really is something."
"What?" Draco's tone had an accusatory lilt to it, "Mother, I don't know that girl."
"Draco, look a bit closer." His mother encouraged.
He scrutinized the girl. Hermione could sense him catalog each feature. Soft caramel-brown hair. Straight, white teeth. A soft blue dress, petite figure. Dark brown eyes. They had made eye contact. The girl, panicked by the intensity of his eyes, sucked her lip in and began nibbling it. Hermione.
The slight breeze from the twist of a taffeta skirt grew until it was a veritable hurricane. The gust lessened until it was merely threatening to rip her hair from its roots rather than actually doing so.
She stood in large wooden stands surrounding the lake. Hermione had never stood in these stands, but she knew them all the same.
Blaise chortled with Crabbe and Goyle. The smarter boy was happily accepting drinks from the others' flasks while his own remained untouched at his hip. Young Draco, already taller than Hermione, stared intently down at the still water. Theo gently pushed another student aside to make space for himself beside the brooding blonde.
"Who'd've thought?" Theo spoke quietly, only for the two of them, "Your girl snagged herself a celebrity." Draco grunted, "Thought your girlfriend had better morals than to cheat on you." Theo was goading his friend. Draco grunted again. "Then again, she did sleep with me second year, so I shouldn't be surprised." Another grunt, "Draco. Draco!"
"What?!" The boy snapped, keeping his eyes fixed on the water.
"She'll be alright." Theo's voice was even quieter, "For all you complain about Dumbledore, you know he'd never allow one, let alone all three, of the Golden Trio to be harmed."
"It's been fifty-five minutes."
"So there are five minutes left."
With four minutes left, Hermione felt the ghost of ache in his shoulders. Three minutes left, the forming of an ache at his temples. Two minutes, he had dug his nails into his palm so harm that it drew blood from them both. One minute, he stopped breathing. Somewhere, a large bell tolled. Theo tensed. Draco fiddled with his wand in its holster.
Cedric resurfaced with a gasp of air. Rather than soothe Draco, the crease between his eyes got deeper.
"Mate, I know you've got this bet with your dad." Blaise butted in between Theo and Draco, "but you're going to give yourself a stroke if you keep acting like this." There was another roar of cheers, and Draco sucked in the air he had been depriving himself of. Hermione looked back at the water. There was Viktor helping her younger self to the shore. "See? Loads better. Damn. Granger's back. Guess we can all kiss the quiet goodbye." Finally, Blaise unstoppered his own flask.
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"Anything else, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"No, thank you, Rebecca." The young serving girl bowed out of the private alcove. Narcissa flicked her wand, and the curtain ripped shut.
"Mother, what is the meaning of this?" Draco swirled his drink in his glass.
"Draco," The woman spoke while looking down at his drink, "Your father wishes for me not to tell you this -."
"Then I suggest you honor Father's wishes." Draco cut her off abruptly.
"Draco, your aunt, will be visiting over the holidays," Narcissa spoke so quickly that Hermione almost failed to catch it.
Draco's brows furrowed. "Mother," he spoke as one would speak to a child having a fit. Calm and slow. Hermione recognized this tone. He had used it on her on Halloween. "Aunt Lyra passed two years ago."
His mother gave him an exasperated huff, "Obviously, Draco," She lowered her voice, "My sister."
"Andromeda?" Draco couldn't hide his surprise, "When did you patch that up? I refuse to-"
"Oh, really, Draco?" Narcissa was at wit's end. "It's a miracle only Ms. Granger is besting your marks. The other sister."
Hermione laughed. First at Narcissa's frustration and then at the comical way Draco's eyes bulged from their sockets. It was unlikely that Draco would remember his aunt. His reaction was entirely learned.
"Father was going to let me be surprised?" Narcissa nodded sharply. Draco downed his drink; Hermione was still unsure what it was, "I must be going now, Crabbe and Goyle can't be left alone for too -" he froze both his words and his actions, midway through pulling back the curtain. He snapped them closed.
"What is it?" Narcissa's voice had a panicked edge to it as her son threw himself back into his seat. Narcissa used her wand to part the curtain a fraction of an inch. A smirk curved her delicate lips, "Ah, it seems like Ms. Granger is forming a - what do the muggles call it? - a cult."
"Would you sit back?" Draco snapped in a whisper. "They'll see you!"
"You know, you never did introduce us." Narcissa's smirk grew wider as she craned her neck to see through the opening, "She's having them sign a declaration of sorts. Look at that. The curse is practically written in ink." Narcissa let out a low whistle, "Perhaps Ms. Granger will survive in our family."
Draco, who had been busy floundering for words, finally found them with an indelicate, "What?"
"Oh, Draco, please, clearly, your obsession with the girl has not abated." She did not look at her son once, choosing instead to stare out the curtain, "'Dumbledore's Army,' I wonder if the old man knows anything of this."
"Mother!"
"Ah, yes. Ms. Granger. You've been infatuated with the girl since you met in Diagon Alley. You even insisted on getting your robes refitted because you thought she might be at the shop to pick her own up." Narcissa finally bored of watching student after student sign their name to the cursed parchment. "After four years, I've started planning the color scheme. She'd make a beautiful winter bride. We could cast a warming charm around the gazebo and -"
"Mother, do you hear yourself?" Draco's eyebrows had vanished into his hairline, "She's a mudblood. If father heard -"
"If father heard it might scare him well enough to pull his head out of his -" Narcissa trailed off into a string of grumbles, "Draco, this is your life. You father cannot-"
"Father can control every ounce of my life and every ounce of yours." Draco seethed, "He controls the manor, the elves, the vaults, your black card."
Narcissa leaned forward, going so far as to rest her elbows on the table. "Draco Lucius Malfoy. You listen here. You are just as much a Black as you are a Malfoy and -"
"And Aunt Bellatrix is the perfect example of why that does not matter."
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Draco sat on a black chaise in front of a dark wood fireplace. The flooring was a similar dark wood; the walls were a light gray. A very large, very green bed sat opposite the fireplace. Hermione recognized the room. His bedroom. She wondered when he had strayed from the Slytherin color scheme.
There was a soft knock on his door. He bit them enter. Narcissa. It was only ever Narcissa, Hermione had learned. "I have one last present for you."
Draco smiled softly at his mother, "Mum," Hermione startled a touch at the informality. She had yet to hear him call either parent anything but 'mother' or 'father.' He looked so much younger, "You really didn't have to, there was already-"
"This one is a hand-me-down." Narcissa handed the package to her son, "It was a favorite of your aunt's." Draco almost dropped the book, "She only read the first half. The second has the appropriate countercurses."
Draco sucked in a deep breath and ripped off the wrapping. "Blood Magic." He looked at his mother. "Bellatrix-"
"Is very fond of these. Her favorite is on page 197. She has a knife. It's featured on page 134. I suggest you read up on those especially." Without another word, Narcissa showed herself out, and Draco cracked open the book.
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"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Draco sauntered into the potions classroom. The badge identifying him as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad hung proudly on his robes, just beside his prefect badge. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"Professor Umbridge would be disappointed in you, Draco." The potions master didn't bother to look up from his papers.
Draco perched himself on one of the desks in the front row. He let his bag drop off his shoulder to the stone ground. "And why will the High Inquisitor be disappointed in me, Professor?" The boy did not offer his senior an ounce of shame.
"You and I both know you are aware of what Mr. Potter and his friends are doing."
"The High Inquisitor is aware of what they're doing. We all are. The trick is catchin-"
"But you have caught them. You know where they meet, but you haven't said a word." Draco remained silent. Hermione could see his jaw clench, "Why are you protecting them, Draco?"
"I'm not protecting them."
"You are. By protecting her you are also protecting them." Snape leveled the boy with a look. "First the incident in your second year and now this. Why, Draco?"
Draco aged twenty years in the blink of an eye. "You know why."
Snape nodded and allowed a few minutes of silence. His voice was quiet, almost soft, when he next spoke, "You love her."
"And you have no proof."
"That wasn't a denial." Hermione could hear Draco grind his teeth. "Draco, a war is coming, you know that as well as I do." Snape stood and circled his desk, leaning against its front to face Draco. "You cannot spend your foreseeable future trying to live up to your father's expectations and reputation as well as loving a muggleborn." Still, Draco did not answer, "Draco, you'll need to choose."
Abruptly, Draco stormed from the room, shouting, "I will do no such thing" as he went.
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Hermione felt a jolt shock through her with the dawn of the next memory. She was in a Slytherin dorm room. She recognized it from her time in the eighth year dungeons. Blaise was leaning over the bed. Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle were silent in the doorway. She felt the pit settle in Draco's stomach as he climbed from his bed and led the others downstairs.
Although it was Draco in the lead of the group, when they reached the top of the stairs, it was Blaise who spoke. "Alright, you lot, we don't know who was there tonight, just that thirteen were there. It is unlikely that all who were there were captured" Some older student jeered, questioning Blaise's information.
"My aunt was there," Draco spoke, cold and crisp to the room of Slytherins pulled from their beds. A murmur went through the room.
Blaise turned to his friends, "I've got this. Try to contact your families."
Students took turns flooing home. Some would pull back from the fireplace with a grin that could light up the whole of the Scottish countryside. Others looked as grim as ever.
Blaise coordinated the room. He summoned elves and, with them, treats and tea. He sent Pansy to get more blankets and directed her to comfort the younger students. Hermione could see the makings of a Healer as Pansy, sans make-up, and in slippers and a robe knelt down to wipe the tears from a first years cheeks.
It was Goyle's mother who finally divulged the desired information. When the large boy pulled his face from the flames, his lips were so downturned it was almost comical. "Bellatrix got away." His eyes flicked to Draco, "The rest were captured. The Lestrange brothers. Dolohov. Avery." His eyes passed to the older student who had earlier questioned Blaise, "Macnair. Rockwood. Jugson. Mulciber. My father and Vin's." He looked at his friend. "Theo's. And Draco's."
Although Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery looked heartbroken, distressed over the loss of their fathers, Theo and Draco barely reacted. Blaise cast them one look before choosing instead to see the younger students off to bed. Pansy and another girl, a pretty blonde that Hermione soon realized was the late Daphne Greengrass, crossed to sit beside the boys.
No sooner had the girls sat than Draco rose to his feet. He flicked his wand, and he was dressed. He gave cursory excuses before slipping out of the common room. Hermione had to scurry to follow his abrupt exit.
He walked through the hall with purpose. Draco did not press himself into the shadows. Instead, he strutted down the center of the passageway, daring anyone to stop them. He halted at the threshold to the Entry Hall.
The doors opened. Harry walked in, supporting Ron, who was still muttering about brains. Tonks followed, levitating Hermione. Hermione winced. She didn't remember this; the next thing she remembered after the ministry was waking up in the hospital wing a week later.
Draco waited for the procession to pass before following. This time he did stick to the shadows, following close enough to watch their progress, but far enough not to be seen. He waited for the commotion to die down, for the Aurors to leave and the patients to drift into fitful sleeps. As soon as Madam Pomfrey turned off the light to her attached room, Draco slipped in.
He slipped into Hermione's curtained cubical. Hermione watched as Draco stood over her prone form. She made a note to discuss security measures with Professor McGonagall. He held his wand parallel to her body and ran it over her head to toe. The wand glowed black as it passed over her chest. Draco sucked in a breath.
Carefully, very carefully, Draco pulled the sheet from Hermione's chest to rest below her breasts. Madam Pomfrey had wrapped her in a bandage around her breasts, to allow the mediwitch access to the wound which festered an angry red, visible even in the dark of the hospital wing. He pointed his wand directly at the center of the mark. His voice slid over the syllables of his countercurse like a song from some language Hermione had never heard before.
Hermione watched as the wound on her chest paled under Draco's ministrations. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead, but he continued to work. He passed his wand to his left hand so he could press his open palm to the still-aggravated skin. His hand glowed pure white. With an attentive eye, Hermione could see her skin under his palm glow black, then brightened to a soft gray, and then a white to match Draco's. When he removed his palm, there wasn't so much as a scar where the angry gash had been.
Draco pulled the sheet back over her chest. He rested his hand there a moment too long not to be deliberate. As he retracted his hand, he pushed a stray curl behind her ear. Hermione saw a sad smile tug at his lips.