For the second time in the stream of memories, Hermione found herself standing in the Wizengamot chambers. The entire body had again convened, but this time, Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at the helm. Arthur and Bill Weasley sat to one side of him, with Andromeda Tonks and Minerva McGonagall to the other. Other members of the Order, having taken the seats of freshly-convicted Death Eaters, were dotted throughout the assembly.
"Mr. Malfoy." Kingsley's voice boomed through the room, making Hermione jump. "Am I correct to assume your guards have informed you of the outcomes of your parent's trials?" Draco, who sat in the same chair his father had occupied two years earlier, offered a curt but affirmative answer. Following the Battle of Hogwarts, the entire Malfoy family had been locked away awaiting trial. Luckily for the Malfoys, the Order had quickly regained the Ministry and did not trust the dementors to guard their prisons. So while the Malfoys were locked in Azkaban, it was a far more hospitable place with human guards. "And you are also aware that Mr. Potter persuaded this Court to examine your family's cases sooner rather than later?" Although Draco nodded, Hermione could see the creases around his eyes, showing his confusion. "And why, young Mr. Malfoy, has Mr. Potter taken such an interest in your family?"
"I am not sure, Minister." Draco's voice, although quiet, carried through the room in a way only an aristocrat's could.
"Mr. Potter moved up your trials, he testified for your mother," Kingsley flipped open the file that sat in front of him, "and he wrote a letter on your behalf." He brandished the piece of paper. "And no matter how many times I ask Ha-Mr. Potter, he has no answer for me." Kingsley's words seemed to have gotten away from him. "So, Mr. Malfoy, I'll ask you again. Do you - Hermione?" He spoke the last word in wonder.
Hermione was not sure who looked more perplexed, Mr. Weasley or Bill. Minerva was aghast. Andromeda kept her face impassive, and her gaze did not budge from her estranged nephew. "Pardon me, Minister." Draco must have known the fate he faced, for he was laying on all the charm. "What does Granger have to do with -"
"Ms. Granger, it appears, also wrote a letter on your behalf."
"Ms. Granger?" McGonagall was the first to recover, "Hermione Granger?" Murmurs echoed throughout the chamber. Although Draco kept his cool facade, he sat in rapt attention.
"She wrote a letter..." Kingsley moved the paper aside. His eyes bulged almost comically as he riffled through the next several pages in the folder, "Or rather, Ms. Granger wrote a treatise." More disgruntled grumbling.
"Silence." Kingsley bellowed while his eyes flicked over her words. "This is - unexpected, to say the least."
"Well, don't keep it to yourself, read it aloud." Andromeda called out, uncaring that she was addressing the Minister of Magic in his seat of power.
"It's the bloody house elves all over again." One of the Weasleys muttered. With a deep breath, Kingsley began to read.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Hermione sat perched on the green bench of the Hogwarts Express. Across from her, Draco was quietly reading a potions book. Blaise sat beside Draco with Theo across from them. There was a squeal from a door down the hall. Hermione saw the three visibly perk up at the sound of her voice from down the hall, speaking into a different compartment.
"Game's over," Theo broke the silence. With the flick of his wrist, Theo collected the chess pieces he and Blaise had been using, "Time to go."
"Don't want to confront the Golden Girl, yet, do we?" Blaise snickered. Theo all but pulled Blaise from the carriage and down the hall. Draco gave a chuckle, but snapped his book shut to rest on his lap. He leaned his head back and kicked his feet up to rest just beside Hermione's unseen thigh.
The door shuddered open. "Welcome to -" The memory-Hermione stopped short with an uncouth gurgle. Hermione cringed at the obvious way her eyes had raked over Draco's form. Although she had not noticed at the time, she now knew Draco did not snore, not even softly. She could see his eyelids flutter, straining to stealthily watch her watch him.
At last, Draco's eyes opened completely. "Take a picture; it'll last longer."
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
"Oh, Won Won!" Hermione cringed at the exclamation and looked away from the commotion. Instead, she focused on the Slytherin clique across the hall.
Astoria was bouncing on her heels with her eyes focused with singular attention on Hermione's world falling apart. Luna, who had shocked everyone by arriving on Theo's arm, watched the spot over Hermione's shoulder with a dreamy expression and a tilt to her head. Theo, Blaise, and Draco stood close together. On her second look (or third look), Hermione noticed Draco was speaking to the other two.
Hermione bolted, peeling away from Ron and Lavender as their tongues intertwined. Draco and Blaise flew to the doors of the hall, but Theo stayed behind. Hermione had just enough time to see Theo stretch his arms out to their full wingspan and begin to cajole the press before the memory began to slip away. She jogged after the other two and slipped through the doors just before Blaise closed them, definitively separating Draco and Hermione from the rest of the party.
Hermione, in her beautiful gown, slumped against the entry doors. Her rear pressed into the stone. Her shoulders were hunched, and her arms were wrapped firmly around her stomach. Draco waited with his back to the Great Hall's doors. Hermione was not sure what his signal was, but he quickly decided to cross the expanse in a dozen steps and stand beside her. With a bated breath, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away from the wall. "Not here." He whispered softly in her ear.
Draco led the pairs of Hermiones through the castle, one carrying herself with much more dignity than the other. Finally, accepting that they would never reach their dormitory before the press caught up, Draco effortlessly picked memory-Hermione up. Hermione felt her breath catch at the scene.
Her arms were wrapped snugly around his neck with her face pressed just below his jaw. Hermione remembered how his scent had calmed her. She saw him glance down as he walked. He started for a moment, but recovered quickly and shifted her weight to better cover her with the scraps of her dress. Even still, Hermione could not believe how damaged her dress had become. Draco pushed on, reaching the Eighth Year dorms with relative ease. When he turned his back to the hidden door to pass through, Hermione caught sight of his eyes for the first time since he lifted her. They were molten silver, churning with aN unbridled anger matched only by the fierce protectiveness currently keeping him from murdering Ronald Weasley.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Hermione stood in a large office she had never seen before. She was aware of voices, but she was too busy trying to pick her jaw up off the floor. Soft blue walls with white wood bookshelves. A simple, but large, desk, standing with its back to the bookshelves, was the centerpiece of the room complete with three chairs positioned informally around it. Beside the desk was a large bay window with a window seat. Hermione yearned to pluck a book from the shelves and curl onto the soft blue cushion. Out the window was a beach, private and quiet. Hermione had never seen so much of her dream home in a single room.
"Lupin. They call him Teddy." The name pulled Hermione back to the purpose of her visit. Narcissa was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. Hermione did not need to see the speaker to know it was Draco through the floo.
"He lives with Andromeda?" Narcissa was speaking almost reverently.
"I think. Spends some time with Potter, though, he's his godfather and – what?"
"No longer 'Saint Potter' or some other variation I see?" Narcissa chuckled to herself. "This wouldn't have anything to do with his best friend living in your quarters, would it, Draco?"
"She doesn't live in my quarters, Mother. She happens to have her own room. She doesn't share my quarters any more than Blaise or Theo do."
"But you aren't denying she's had an impact on you?"
"If it allows you to sleep at night, Mother."
"How indulging of you. Now, pray tell me, Draco, the dragon your father gave you for your fifteenth birthday, how is it of late?" Her voice had taken on an edge. The same edge Draco's took when he smirked. Hermione drew closer to the pair, settling herself in one of the receiving chairs by the desk.
"What do you know?" Draco's voice was strangely accusatory.
"Oh, nothing." His mother sat back, "You forget, that dragon is just as linked to me as it is to your father." She flicked her wrist a couple of times, drawing Hermione's and Draco's attention to a silver band looped delicately around her wrist. "Well, if the dragon has reacted, maybe it is time…"
"It hasn't reacted, mother." Draco's tone was long-suffering, "It only opened its eyes. That's what happens around my eighteenth birthday."
Although Draco's tone was flippant, Narcissa's back straightened, "It opened its eyes?" Narcissa's voice took on an urgent edge, "What were the stones?"
"The bauble's stones don't matter."
"Rubies?" Narcissa looked like a little girl searching the floo for Santa and her presents, "Were the stones rubies?" Draco did not answer, so Narcissa continued sternly, "Draco. If you are still in denial after that dragon opened its eyes with rubies, you're denser than I feared. When a Black family bauble, as you so kindly denounced your heritage, reveals its eyes it is telling its ward that his partner is-"
"What? My soulmate?" Draco's voice was laced with disdain and disinterest.
Narcissa, pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out a huff of air, "I told Lucius back in your fourth year he had to get rid of that Trelawney woman. Just because that woman didn't know a prophecy from indigestion does not mean Seers do not exist." Narcissa leaned forward and extended her arms. "Don't let your happiness slip away because you're too stubborn to be happy."
Hermione lurched. Although she was planted in the middle of the room, she had no trouble identifying it from only one quadrant. Draco sat on his bed with his elbows on his knees, and his fingers knotted together between them. His eyes were transfixed on a small silver dragon with piercing red eyes. The creature sauntered across the desk before turning and retracing its steps. Without any obvious trigger, Draco shot to his feet and snatched the dragon from its perch. Hermione gasped when his wrists snapped together, effortlessly breaking the creature in two.
Draco opened his palm to reveal a plain silver chain.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Hermione fiddled with the stones on her bracelet as the next scene stilled in front of her. She jolted from her musings when the door was blasted from its hinges.
"Is this typical behavior, or could it be a result of the curse?" Pansy quipped.
"Typical when I'm being held, hostage." Draco flicked his wand. Embers flew from it to tickle at the peeling portions of the wallpaper.
"You aren't a hostage. You had a choice." Pansy sat next to him on the bed, "When the hell did you replace the Weasel as Granger's shadow?"
"We aren't talking about Granger."
"And why not?"
"She's not yours to talk about."
"And last I checked she's not yours to protect." They were shouting now, but it was Pansy's words that made Draco jerk away like he had been struck.
"Granger's fine." Pansy's response was lost to a whirlwind of wind erupting from nowhere. Hermione could hear the pair speaking, but could not distinguish so much as a syllable. The wind finally stopped as Pansy exited the room after repairing the wallpaper and the doorway.
Draco glanced from his flaming ball of wallpaper to the window and then to the clock his wand projected. With a resolute nod, Draco stood and entered the floo.
Hermione felt the distinct tickle of floo flames. And then she was in her second home, the Burrow. Her brow wrinkled as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw Draco gripping the back of Mr. Weasley's customary chair with white knuckles.
With a heaving sigh, Draco stood and began the trek up the rickety stairs. Hermione was surprised, however, when he stopped on the first landing with his eyes clearly perked. "He was a Death Eater." Hermione could hear her voice as if she were standing right next to herself. "He still has his mark. Ron said the ones he had seen after the war had lost theirs." There was a loud, unattractive, sniffing noise, "What if he is still there because he still thinks - and what if he's the father - he - he can't be the father - my kids can't be Malfoy's - I can't -" Draco's face had gone ashen. Hermione remembered that night. She remembered the wind rocking the house, making the floorboards creak. "Kind words don't erase the past." Draco stumbled back against the opposite wall, eliciting a loud thump. "I wish -" She choked on her words. "I wish I could take this bracelet off. It just reminds me that any day I might - I might forget the past and make the mistake that traps me."
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Hermione blinked rapidly at the dramatic change in lighting. Her eyes adjusted in time to see Blaise dump a stupified Draco onto the eighth year Slytherin common room. He flicked his wand once more, and Draco was sitting up with murder in his eyes.
"Draco, if you're going to suddenly start giving Granger the cold shoulder, you're going to have to clue us in as to why."
"I already told you, Theo."
"No, you told me, and I believe this is verbatim, 'Granger's coming, we're done with her,' as to why, you never did explain. Since we've been friends since infancy, I gave you some leeway, but she is clearly just as confused as we are."
Although Theo looked exhausted, Blaise kept Draco in his seat with an accusatory glare. Draco relented, "She thinks I'm still a death eater and that I'm going to trap her." Theo made a go on motion, and Blaise continued to glare. With a final dirty look, as if testing whether he could cast an Avada without his wand, Draco told the story of his midnight trip to the Burrow.
Blaise quietly spoke after Draco concluded, "Well," He looked anywhere but at Draco, "You did torment her for the better part of our education, you can't be surprised that a few months of being there didn't change things enough for her to want to marry you." Hermione would have to remember to thank Blaise for such loyalty in the face of such a grouchy Draco.
"Merlin," Theo breathed, "I was right."
"The hell are you tal-"
"How long?"
"What the fu-"
"How long have you been in love with Granger?" Theo asked again, firmer this time.
Draco looked back and forth between his two best friends. "Always."
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
"They're engaged!" Astoria yelled with giggles from her pedestal. She jumped off her seat to hug Sarah. Draco fled the room with such force his chair fell over. Hermione had to jog to keep up with his longer legs.
"Draco!" Hermione heard Blaise call from behind them. The trio had reached the fifth floor by the time Blaise finally caught up. "You can't keep fucking doing this!" Blaise pushed Draco against a wall to halt him. "You're marrying the girl. You can't be mad when her friend announces it."
"I can do whatever the bloody hell I want." Draco's teeth ground together.
"Then get your head out of your arse and go get the girl you actually want."
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Draco was still braced against a wall, but in this memory, he was staring down at his forearm with eyes as wide as saucers. Hermione knew what would be on his forearm before he pulled back the sleeve.
From her position, Hermione could see Professor McGonagall approaching, "Mr. Malfoy. You might be Head Boy, but even your position does not necessitate being out at such an unreasonable hour."
"Headmistress. I was - I - "
"No matter, Mr. Malfoy." The Headmistress waved the concern aside. "I had been meaning to talk to you since the ball last night. I've noticed you've been spending more time with Ms. Furgeson-"
"Purely a business arrangement, Headmistress. I promise nothing untoward is happening."
"Mr. Malfoy, if I thought that were the case, you'd no longer wear that badge. My concern is of a less professional nature." She paused, "Are you sure it is a wise business arrangement? I'll admit, at the beginning of the year, I only invited you back after receiving quite a few strong character references in your favor. Even then, I was faced with my own trepidation. But you've shown a new side this year with your performance of your role and with your academics. And I can't help but notice you've befriended a favorite student of mine.
"I thought Professors didn't have favorites." Draco's attempt at a smirk ended up being only a grimace.
"Ah, but I am the Headmistress, Mr. Malfoy. And can you blame me for preferring her? And if that's the case, I suggest you stop playing your games with Ms. Furgeson."
"I have less than four months, Professor. What do you suggest? Maybe the Malfoy line should end with me. It'd make my life easier. And yours too, I'd reckon. They'd be right snots like me by the time they got to Hogwarts."
"I think over the past year we have seen the importance of relationships and love of all sorts. Your arm seems to be an indication of just that." Draco's cheeks heated, "When Madam Pomphrey and I examined her wound, I knew exceptional magic was at work. We did not tell her the full truth, about the curse or the protection." McGonagall took a deep breath. "Without the protection, the curse would have slowly skinned her arm. When infection set in, it would spread, but the curse would keep her alive to ensure she felt every last ounce of pain.
"But then we saw her arm was unharmed - relatively, of course - and we knew a pureblood had to have been at work. Mr. Weasley was an unlikely candidate given the caliber of
magic required." Hermione softly snorted, "A distant ancestor would not have provided adequate protection. It might have delayed the damage, but not stopped it." Hermione could see McGonagall ticking off the potential options in her head.
"That left a very small pool of purebloods. Perhaps a guilty snatcher, but they were unlikely to know the charmwork necessary. Your mother was my leading candidate for quite some time. Narcissa never did like the unnecessary bloodletting like her sister. But the degree of care needed to create such protection? To interlace the very fibers of two peoples' skins. It couldn't be her."
"Headmistress, what are you saying?"
"I'm suggesting you stop making business deals and start thinking about the task your ancestor actually set at your feet: finding a bride to lead the Malfoys into the next century. If you're successful, and I do think there is the possibility of a successful outcome, their mother wouldn't allow your children to cause me any real distress. Only how to justify all my prefects and heads coming from a single-family." McGonagall looked down the corridor, "She is my favorite after all."