Just thought I'd try something a little different. This isn't going to be one shots, as I usually do. I absolutely adore Dramione fanfic, and have always considered posting some of the stuff I've written, but haven't until now. I know I'm only getting started with it, but let me know what you think so far. Hope you like it.
DISCLAIMER: credits to J.K Rowling.
Ch. 1: Prologue
Draco had been sturdy in his beliefs until now. Muggleborns were beneath them and should be exterminated from the wizarding world; leaving behind only loyal servants of the Dark Lord. Not once, in his seventeen years, had he questioned those morals. They were his father's divinity, and in turn would be passed onto him; moulding and bending him to Lucius' every wish. Even when he broke it down to its simplest terms: that his own free will, conscience, future, had been robbed at the hands of his father, Draco had overlooked the corrupt nature and stood by said beliefs. Draco was simply sacrificing for a greater cause, and no matter what anyone else preached, he wanted nothing more than to be in his father's good graces. No other opinion could even be considered- let alone justified.
Until now.
As he watched Hermione Granger- a mudblood- sprawled on the floor beneath his aunt. When the girl had been at his mercy; at the receiving end of his taunts and jeers about her parentage, he hadn't felt what consumed him in that moment. Absolute, and utter, horror. Draco wanted to strangle Bellatrix. Magic would make it too quick and easy. He wanted to destroy her. He wanted to inflict more pain on her than anything she had intended for Hermione. Draco felt sick at the mere thought of having to watch Hermione die, in his very house. He wanted to run and take her in his arms, hold her against his chest until the shaking stopped, until her wounds were healed, until she felt safe again. But none of that was possible. He was the enemy. He should've been revelling at the sight of their hostage rather than taking pity on her. When had his view changed?
The process had been slow, and almost went unnoticed by Draco. Sometime during fifth year, he'd found that beyond blood status, there really wasn't anything to draw on when tossing jeers at the brains behind the Golden Trio. Yes, she wasn't the most attractive girl, but he found her mane of untamed curls to be fascinating and he often wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. Her eyes; albeit a murky brown, had a glint to them, full of compassion and love, regardless of the receiver. And gods had his opinion changed about what lay beneath. Draco had spent years convincing himself that she wore her uniform two sizes too big in an attempt to hide her hideous form, but the Yule Ball proved otherwise. He had never truly rid himself of the image of Hermione Granger clad in an elegant ball gown. Aside from her physical appearance, although her knowledge evoked jealousy in him, he couldn't help but admire her natural intelligence and sheer determination. Even more horrific of a realisation, was that- despite her poor choice of friends- Hermione was caring, and supportive, always putting herself second.
Though he would admit it to no one, Draco knew that for the past year he'd been falling for her. He had tried to stop it; tried hating her, but he couldn't. At first, he'd blamed the stress of his task, bestowed by Voldemort. Surely, he wasn't thinking straight, and found love in the enemy, simply because it was rebelling against a task he'd detested. But then he'd seen her with Weasley, and had wanted nothing more than to rip the git off her, and claim her as his. The realisation was startling, but undeniable.
His feelings weren't enough to change his beliefs. Of course, they had planted the seed of doubt, but Draco wasn't about to abandon seventeen years of lessons for some girl who might not reciprocate his love. Despite being muggleborn, Draco had hoped that she'd be the exception to the rule. That somehow, he wouldn't interfere with the Dark Lord's task, and in turn Voldemort would grant Draco, his loyal servant, with Hermione's life. That somehow, they would emerge from the war unscathed and pursue a future together. It was wishful thinking. Draco would never have the courage to request such an ideologically insane wish, and if he did he'd surely be killed. If on the off chance, his wish had been granted, Draco knew that she would never turn on her friends and skip off into the sunset with a Malfoy.
But now, hearing her blood curdling screams, everything shifted. He detested everyone who had contributed to her pain; including himself. He hated his father for teaching him to hate her. He hated his mother for not trying to prevent such a cruel upbringing. He hated Potter for not protecting his friend. He hated himself, for watching helplessly. Bella cackled while straddling her, bending low to whisper something. Hermione's head lolled to the side, and for a terrifying second Draco thought his aunt had done the deed unnoticed. Draco took an agonising step forward, when his mother placed a discrete hand on his wrist; warning. Reluctantly he stayed. Pleading brown met remorseful grey, and Draco loosened a breath as she jerked, indicating she hadn't stopped breathing yet. Silently he cast a wandless incantation that eased her from all pain. For a moment, Hermione's face glazed over with confusion before Bellatrix dragged the knife deeper into her arm, and Granger continued to howl, cry, and plead, falling into an act of agony so as not to reveal her anonymous saviour.
A searing pain consumed her left leg, as she hobbled across the rubble, shielding herself from the fallen bodies; too afraid to identify the faces. Hermione would wait until the aftermath to mourn, or perhaps her name would be amongst the deceased. Despite years of anticipation for this destined battle, the actual fighting had become undirected and scattered. The ultimate goal was for Harry to confront Voldemort, and end it all. Everyone else, on both sides, were just the pawns, targeting the other, without orders from a clearly defined leader; both having abandoned the scene. Hermione ground her teeth, as the court yard seemed curiously quiet to be considered a battleground. Of course, Hogwarts was the biggest building she'd ever set eyes on, but considering the abundance of death eaters and D.A members, she had expected there to be little to no space to breathe. The silence unnerved her. Pebbles clinked against the cobble stones, as she blindly moved across the expanse of ground, itching for a purpose. Her friends were inside, certainly in combat with the Death Eaters, and possibly dead, while she took a leisurely stroll. It didn't add up.
"AVA-" came a deep, rumbling voice from a pillar, and as Hermione spun to meet the cloaked figure, a green light erupted from their wand. Too startled to react, she stood, dumbfounded, waiting for it all to be over. It's easier said than done to protect oneself in the circumstances. Hermione had spent her entire Hogwart's education researching counter active spells, shields, anything of the sort, and had mastered them perfectly. But in the moment, facing death, her mind went blank. She was reverted to her pre-wizarding years, and was as clueless as any muggle that would be placed in her current predicament. But nothing came. Maybe she was already dead, but she had thought that when one died there would be something to signify that it was all over, not this…continuous train of thought. Slowly, opening her eyes, she saw a heap of dark robes, crumpled on the ground…but how?
"Your welcome Granger," sneered Malfoy from behind her. He stood, hand placed against the stone wall, gripping his side. His blonde hair- blinding under the glint of sunlight- fell over his eyes, and his pale, porcelain face was smudged with blood and soot. His steely eyes never left her.
"Thank you," she replied, timidly, both surprised by their courtesy. "Are you-"
"Fine." He grunted, almost insulted at her insinuation. It wasn't a completely ridiculous question, considering he had somehow saved her from the most unaltering, murderous curse in existence.
"How?" Hermione asked, genuinely perplexed, but nonetheless grateful. Draco opened his mouth, ready to offer an explanation, when the archway alongside them collapsed, and two dark figures landed in defensive stances before them. Draco tossed her a wink, killing the two intruders without a second glance and rushing off to leave her stunned.