The third time's the charm.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, it would have been told from Draco's point of view and he would have ended up with Hermione. Obviously that isn't the case. Nor do I own Wicked.
The war has been over for about eleven years now, and Hermione has sat down to tell her son and her god-children about how her and Draco met through a series of flashbacks from her time at Hogwarts, during the war, and briefly post-war. This story is loosely canon. It still follows the overall arch of the rise of Voldemort and the war, but some details will be changed from the book. This story is also inspired and based on the Wicked soundtrack.
"Scorpius! Hugo! Rose! James! Albus! Lily!"
Hermione's voice echoed through the halls of their mansion, beckoning for her children and god-children to come join her in the parlor. Hermione, Ron, and Harry all took turns watching each other's children during Yule and summer breaks from school. This Yule break it was Hermione and Draco's turn to watch the young group. Early on in the break, Ron's daughter, Rose, had asked her how her and Draco had met. She was always a romantic. So Hermione thought it would be a nice activity to tell them small stories of her life at Hogwarts and during the war.
Lily Potter and Hugo Weasley had just started their first year at Hogwarts that fall and were the best of friends, just like their dad's. Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and Scorpius Malfoy were all in their third year at Hogwarts. Her own son, Scorpius, had quite the crush on Rose and was best friends with Albus. Lastly was James Potter, in his fifth year at Hogwarts. Whilst very popular at school, he was a bit of a lone wolf at home. However, the younger kids loved him and he never hesitated to entertain their silly ideas.
Lily and Hugo came strolling in from the kitchen, cookies in hand and crumbs all over their faces. Lily had been laughing over some joke that Hugo had cracked, which made some crumbs drop out of her mouth rather ungracefully, only causing Hugo and Lily to laugh even harder. Rose wandered in from the library, her face in a book much like Hermione would have been at Rose's age. Albus and Scorpius came bounding down the stairs, pushing and shoving each other and generally rough housing as boys do. Lastly, James came slinking down the stairs as well, looking as if he had been enjoying the time he's gotten to sleep in on break.
"Alright everyone, come gather around the living room. I have some stories I would love to share with the six of you." Hermione sat in a large velvet armchair next to a crackling fire. Her cat was curled up in her lap, and a well-worn book was draped over the arm of the chair. She watched with a warm smile on her face as the children sat around her in various states of curiosity.
"Yesterday, Rose had asked me to share a little bit about my time at Hogwarts. Now I'm sure you've all heard plenty of stories from your parents and from your History of Magic courses at Hogwarts. However, I have some stories that even my closest friends don't quite understand." Hermione glanced around at the uneasy looks on some of the boys faces and added, "don't worry. I won't share all of my secrets today, and I promise there is plenty of action and adventure to go along with the romance."
James, who was sitting on the ground in front of the couch, simply closed his eyes and laid his head back against the cushions. Scorpius showed the faintest sign of interest, clearly trying to impress Rose, before being jabbed in the side by Albus. Embarrassed to be caught pining, he groaned along with Albus and flopped back on the ground with a big display of disinterest. Rose was on the edge of her seat, clinging to Hermione's every word already. Lily and Hugo were poking at each other and pulling pieces of each other's hair, clearly already distracted.
Hermione took a deep breath and began to tell her story…
"Good news!"
"He's dead!"
"He who shall not be named is dead!"
"No, Voldemort is dead. It's okay to say his name now, Angela."
"Whatever, he's dead."
Hermione watched the crowd that was huddled in the courtyard of what was once Hogwarts. It had been only a week since the war had ended, and she was asked by Minister Shacklebolt to give a short speech about the good news.
She was not happy about it.
She hadn't wanted to come back to a place that brought her so many bad memories. This- this horrifying reminder of all the pain and suffering that she bore witness to at what was once her favorite place to be. A place that was already being renovated for the next school year, as if none of this ever happened. She had even been invited back to continue her education for one more year, considering most of her final year of Hogwarts had been spent in the woods fighting a war. She still wasn't sure if she would accept the offer or not.
No matter how much she argued though, the fact remained that she was the "Golden Girl". The most level-headed of the trio. Harry and Ron were in no condition to be making speeches after the war, each dealing with their own demons and various versions of PTSD. Of course, nobody cared how Hermione was. Hermione was the level-headed one. The smart one. Of course she would never let this war shake her to her core that much.
Shacklebolt would not take no for an answer.
"Why can't Ron or Harry do it?" Hermione had complained.
"You know as well as I do that Harry is not in the condition to be speaking to a large group of people and Ron is.. Well Ron. It would be a disaster. We need encouragement. We need inspiration. We need hope. You are the only one who can provide that for us right now, and you know that." Shacklebolt had reasoned.
He had a point there. Ron speaking to a crowd of upwards around five hundred witches and wizards? It would be a disaster.
As she took a deep breath and stepped from the shadows of the stage, she could hear the hushed whispers about the 'wickedest wizard there ever was' and 'the enemy of everyone in the wizarding world' being dead.
'Not everyone here,' she thought, 'was an enemy of Voldemort.'
Hermione impatiently waited for the crowd to notice her and settle down. She had been standing there about five minutes before a familiar looking citizen cried out, "Look! It's Hermione!" She thought that the wizard looked familiar, maybe Seamus Finnegan, but she wasn't too sure. The war had changed a lot of people, some beyond recognition.
Hermione forced a smile as the citizens all turned away from their gossip to pay attention to their hero. Taking a shaky breath, she began her well-thought out speech.
"Fellow citizens, let us be glad, be grateful, and rejoice that our good and hard-working souls could subdue the wicked workings of, well, Voldemort." She took a moment for the loud roar of agreeing citizens to die down before continuing. She must have sounded confident and calm if they were being this responsive to her.
'Or, they just love you because you helped save their arses form eternal slavery…' she thought inwardly.
Hermione tucked that thought away and continued, "Isn't it good to know that we live in a world where good will always conquer evil? That the truth that we all believe in will outlive the lies told by those who try to deceive us? For-"
"No one mourns the wicked!"
Hermione was interrupted by an outburst from the middle of the crowd. Two men were standing there, sizing each other up. They were staring each other down as if they were two predator's fighting over their prey. Both of them were vaguely familiar, especially the man who was being challenged.
"Well I do mourn the wicked! My father was one of those so-called 'Wicked' Death Eaters. So were many of my friends." The brave wizard took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing on, "I understand that he did horrible things, along with the rest of them. But not everyone was there by choice. You wouldn't understand, when it came to Voldemort it was to sell your soul to the devil or else have no soul to sell. But, he is still my father, and they are still my friends, and despite the fact that they did terrible things, I still love them. Who are you to judge me for that!?" Hermione recognized the tall, brown haired young man who stood before her, but she couldn't quite put a name with a face. She knew he was in her year at Hogwarts though.
The other man was raging. He had a fire in his eyes and looked ready to bite. Hermione just decided to step back and watch the scenario unfold in front of her.
Another person, a witch this time, stepped out of the crowd and yelled in a shrill voice, "You don't see any of us crying about them being dead! No tears are shed over the fact that they will never return from the grave. They killed our loved ones!"
Hermione thought back over all of her dear friends that she had lost to the war: Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Dobby, Fred… She shook the thoughts from her mind. The more she pictured the frozen faces of her long-gone friends, the more likely she was to tear up in front of this vicious audience. She couldn't risk showing them weakness.
There were several murmurs of agreement before the crowd started shouting out slurs at the guy and demanding that he was wrong. The poor guy was cornered.
Hermione felt for him, she really did. The incident made her think of her best friend. She hadn't heard from him since the war was won. He hadn't even owl'd her. She had been worrying for days, but she couldn't let anyone else know. They would treat her the same way that this outcast was being treated now. It wouldn't matter that she helped save them all.
"No one lays a lily on their grave!" Shouted another person from the audience.
"All good wizards and witches should scorn the Death Eaters and their wicked slave driver!" Shouted someone else.
The crowd was closing in on the man and yelling at him. Words could barely be distinguished because the roar was so deafening. Hermione finally decided to step in.
"While it is true," she practically had to yell at the audience, "That the opposing side of the war was wicked, at least the children can learn through these mistakes as they get older. They can learn what they miss when they misbehave, that is. Let's not forget that." She half-yelled as the crowd started to forget their outspoken neighbor and return their attention to Hermione once more. For a brief moment, Hermione caught a glimpse of gratefulness in his eyes before they hardened up again. The familiar sign of a soul hardened by tragedy.
"Goodness knows, though, that the wicked life is rather lonely. And goodness knows that the Wicked do die alone. They shut out their families, spread lies, and are deceiving monsters. They drive everyone who loves them away." She was looking directly at him, still puzzled by his identity, "I guess it just goes to show that when you are wicked, you're left on your own."
The mystery man was now glaring at her, but she knew what she was doing.
"But," she said, looking at everyone now. She was pleading with them to see both sides, like she and this mystery man did, "are people really born wicked? Or, do they have wickedness brought upon them. Bear with me one moment." Hermione hesitated, scanning the crowd before continuing, "take Draco Malfoy for instance."
The name tasted sweet on her tongue, despite the bitter looks on everyone's faces. She missed him terribly and just wanted to know that he was safe. She could use nothing more than a playful insult and his fingers pulling at one of her frizzy curls.
"He had a father, and a mother, just like you and me. They were high, upstanding members of society. And, despite raising their son to believe that muggle-born children were beneath him, he lived a fairly normal life. The fact that he despised muggle-born witches and wizards didn't make him evil. It just made him a pret. It made him like every other child of a rich aristocracy. However, when Lucius took Voldemort into his house and forced Draco to become one of the Death Eaters, he thrust wickedness upon Draco. Who's to say that Draco wanted to be a Death Eater? Who's to say that he even wanted to be affiliated with Voldemort? He had no choice to do what his parents asked of him. So you see- it couldn't have been easy!" Her voice was growing louder by the second as she watched the reactions of the crowd before her. She just wanted them to understand.
"No one mourns the wicked!" Shouted someone in the crowd.
"Draco is probably dead and gone!" Yelled another. That one made her flinch. She didn't want to think about the possibility that he could be dead... Even if it was a thought that crossed her mind from time to time.
The crowd did not like that their beloved Hermione was taking up for the infamous, teenage Death Eater. Especially one that managed to evade Azkaban. Him and his family had switched their allegiance just before the end of the war. To the rest of the wizarding world, it just appeared as them being cowards who were terrified to reap the punishment for the sins they pursued. And for Lucius and Narcissa that may have been true. However, Hermione knew that if it had been up to Draco, he would have fought for Dumbledore's Army over Voldemort's Death Eaters any day. She immediately backtracked, trying to keep everyone at peace. She wasn't in the mood for a lynching today, and she had dealt with enough fighting for two lifetimes.
"Yes!" Hermione reluctantly shouted, causing everyone to pay attention to her once again, "Yes. I agree. He... Probably is dead and gone." She hated herself for saying it out loud, but it had to be said. It was the only way to keep the community on her side. "I was merely trying to reason with both sides. Goodness knows, though, that we sure do know what goodness is. So, I say woe to those who spurn good deeds. No one mourns the wicked!"
Hermione stepped back and listened to the thunderous applause that followed her speech. She seemed to have gotten back in everyone's good graces. Everyone that is, except for mystery man. He was standing still amongst the crowd, glowering at her. Like a rock in the ocean.
She just shrugged at him apologetically. Sighing, she muttered to herself, "I guess not everyone can see both sides."
"Alright children, I believe that is quite enough for today." Hermione smiled at the lot.
"Finally," Albust exclaimed in false-exasperation. He flung himself from the floor, yanking Scorpius up with him and throwing him a glare.
"Uh, yeah. Finally. What a bore, mum." Scorpius said, albeit reluctantly, before heading off with his best friend.
Lily sprung up and sprinted off through the back door, shouting some nonsense about the last one to the homemade quidditch pitch was a werewolf. Hugo was chasing shortly behind her.
James had fallen asleep against the couch. Rose, however, was wide awake and still sitting there, staring up at Hermione. "Can we please hear more, 'Mione? I don't think I can wait a whole 'nother day." Rose whined, before throwing herself back on the floor rather dramatically.
"All in good time, my dear Rose. The best things in life are those you wait for." And with that, Hermione picked up her worn book and began reading her own story.
Criticism is always appreciated, but please don't be hateful about it. I understand if no one trusts me to update, as this is my third time trying to write this story. I'm just easily distracted.