The family had not taken the news of their newest houseguest at all lightly, as Hermione had predicted they would not. After the trio's explanation of the situation and the retelling of Draco's story, the Weasleys agreed that, at least for the time being, the young man should stay with them at The Burrow.
This new presence, however, did not halt the ever-swirling whirlwind of wedding preparations that was Mrs. Weasley. During the day, Malfoy – who had originally offered to stay hidden away in a room while the rest of them busied about downstairs following the drill march of the matriarch – was given a new identity in the household, so not to call the attention of the Delacours upon them. As Harry was to be disguised as the Weasley's cousin Barney during the wedding, they, too, created a false identity for Draco. He would be Cousin Otis, of the same relation as Barney. Mrs. Weasley had forced the young man to endure a slight transformation. His blond hair, pale skin, and regal countenance were too obviously not characteristics of the Weasley line. So, after some time forced onto a stool in the kitchen under Mrs. Weasley's magical touch, Malfoy became a young man with shoulder-length red hair – courtesy of Fred and George's product Comb-a-Chameleon – freckles and slightly crooked front teeth. He was then instructed to continuously slouch in his seat, to shuffle his feet and to stutter as he spoke. The transformation was uncanny – Hermione hardly recognised the young man – and all were pleasantly surprised by Malfoy's apparent skill as an actor.
"We got the idea for Comb-a-Chameleon from McGonagall, actually," Fred told them that afternoon.
"We gave her a right run for her money while we were practicing that Crinus Muto spellthat changes the colour of your hair. Oi, you remember that class, Fred?" George laughed and elbowed his twin. "That was one helluva great Transfiguration class!"
"We even sent her a free sample from our first batch!"
"But she returned them with a note telling us that she's happy with her black hair."
"Probably a jab at the fact that we accidentally transfigured her hair green…"
"Undoubtedly. She was not happy…"
"Worst detention!"
"If we're not counting Umbridge or Snape…"
They were all truly grateful for their quick thinking for the disguise, because the Minister for Magic arrived not long after, and "so rudely interrupted Harry's birthday party", according to Mrs. Weasley, to bestow Dumbledore's bequests upon the trio. During their quick meeting, Draco smartly chose to hide away upstairs to avoid the risk of being exposed.
Otis helped the rest of the family prepare for the upcoming festivities. Though they neglected to say it, all were surprised by Draco's usefulness in the last few hectic days before the wedding. Due to the way the young man kept to himself, Hermione felt compelled to include Draco in life at The Burrow. They were, supposedly, on the same side now, so why not get to know him a little?
That thoughtfulness was what led the young woman into the sitting room late the night before the wedding. Draco was seated on the well-worn couch in front of the dying fire, staring so intently at the glowing embers, he jumped slightly as the brunette sat next to him.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked, his voice gravelly from disuse.
"I could ask the same of you," she answered, shifting into a comfortable position. "You know Mrs. Weasley will have us all up before dawn to finish everything before the guests arrive."
He hummed in agreement, eyes remaining focused on something far away that Hermione could not see.
She knew they were not close – couldn't even be considered friends, truly – but Hermione wished to take a risk with the young man sitting so lonely in front of the hearth.
"How are you feeling?" she asked cautiously. This can go one of two ways, she thought. He will either tell me off or open up. His response could prove how genuine he is about his aborting Lord Voldemort's cause…
"Just fine," he replied in a hollow voice.
At least he responded…
"Draco," she whispered, "You came here, to us, asking for refuge and offering us something in return. You knew what was happening with the Death Eaters was wrong and you chose to act on it. If you let us… well –"
"Well, what? We'll all be best mates? I came here because I was a coward scared for my own life and I knew the only way you would agree to protect me would be if I offered something in return – which I did and the only reason I'm still here and not in actual custody is because you all need me to get into the Black vault. Do not pretend we're friends."
Hermione took a moment to consider what he said. It was all true, of course, Draco was no fool; he knew he was still valuable to them for one reason. But Hermione refused to see people uniquely for their uses to others.
"I think one day we could be," she said honestly. "You came here of your own accord and risked your life and your mother's to do so." She paused and witnessed the flinch that crossed his sharp, pale features. "But I do not believe you were a coward. In fact, I think it was brave of you. You showed impeccable moral character in breaking from those who would soon wish to do you harm and harm to others."
"That's the problem with you Gryffindors; all you think of is bravery and selfless acts."
A small, cunning smile played over Hermione's lips, confusing Draco. It had only been a few days since his arrival, but Hermione found herself almost enjoying his attempts at the usual sarcastic attitude that had been his personality during their school years. "Think what you will, but I am interested in being your friend, Draco. Whether you like it or not, you're one of us now – one of the good guys. If I were you, I wouldn't want to be singling myself out further from those who want to help me. I'd want to befriend them, to build trust and work together towards a … mutually beneficial end."
"So, what you're saying is that I should suck it up and be a part of the Golden Trio until the end?" he asked, putting an excessive amount of sarcastic emphasis into the nickname that had been given to Hermione and her two best friends.
"Pretty much," she laughed. The young man had a sense of humour, she realized, and a knack for filtering her words and finding the essential.
"I'll have to think about that," he murmured, his eyes returning to the last of the embers. The flames had completely died out, leaving only the faint, golden glow to illuminate the room.
Hermione studied the boy sitting next to her. The light reflected in his pale eyes made them look almost like they were shining with unshed tears, or like the tortured soul inside was shining through, begging for release from something Hermione could not understand.
Deciding against pushing her advances too far in one night, Hermione rose and bid Draco a good night, to which he muttered a quiet, polite good night to her.
Perhaps it was too soon to tell or perhaps she was simply too optimistic and idealistic, but she thought that perhaps, given the time, at least she and the young Malfoy could develop a bridge of trust between them, that would, one day, become friendship.
Hermione sat with the other Weasley children, all of them quiet as the grave.
They attacked, they all thought. It was the single thought they could formulate through the shock still coursing through their veins. The Death Eaters attacked.
The night had been passing blissfully, in Hermione's opinion. So many people had shown up to wish the happy couple well, even during these tense and troubled times. Before it had seemed silly, having a wedding in the middle of a war, but now, Hermione appreciated the few hours of pure happiness they had been allotted that day.
She had enjoyed seeing all the new faces of the guests and was glad to catch up with a few of the Hogwarts students that had attended with their families.
She also had the chance to catch up with old friends whom she had not seen for years. Viktor had arrived as Fleur's guest and Hermione was ecstatic to see her friend again.
She kept Malfoy close to her and introduced Otis to those she stopped to chat with. In her opinion, he seemed to be having a decent time. They both chuckled secretly behind their hands when Ron was rejected by all of Fleur's Veela cousins. They ate several pieces of cake and drank multiple glasses of the available spritzers. Somehow, Hermione even managed to drag the uncomfortable looking young man onto the dance floor until they were both out of breath and sweaty.
But then it happened. In the middle of all the festivities, a shining ball of light she recognised instantly floated down through the tent and illuminated the scene in an otherworldly glow.
Kingsley's Patronus said very little, but it was enough to understand exactly what happened. "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming." Panic erupted, people Disapparated left and right. Then the fighting started. Death Eaters appeared seconds later in clouds of black smoke, firing off spells at everyone left.
She had been prepared for this. Grabbing Malfoy by the hand, she dragged him through the mass of people running for safety or fighting back. In the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Weasley incapacitate a Death Eater; Remus dueling Yaxley. Fred and George stumbled into them as they went to the aid of their mother, who was occupied with two very angry looking Death Eaters.
It was far too difficult to spot the shock of red hair she was searching for. There were so many gingers here – how in the bloody hell can one family produce so many redheads!
"Hermione!"
Wand at the ready, the brunette had a spell on the tip of her tongue as a hand grasped her arm firmly from the frantic crowd.
"Harry!" she sighed in relief. She stared at the young man with round glasses and messy dark hair. "The potion! You have to leave!"
"We're going; stay safe. Ginny –"
"No time, mate. Let's go!" Ron said as he shoved into their little circle. "Talk soon, 'Mione." Grasping his best friend's hand and – reluctantly – Malfoy's jacket, he turned on the spot and the three young men disappeared before Hermione's eyes.
Hermione had only half a moment to worry of their whereabouts before a second hand grabbed her from behind.
"There you are!"
"Ginny! Thank heaven you're safe." Relief flooded her veins for the second time that night. At least all her friends were safe for the time being.
"Safe is a relative term – I'm only alive 'cause Remus saved my arse. That Greyback really has a thing for younger girls…" she shivered, her messy red hair rippling around her face.
"DOWN!" Over her friend's shoulder, Hermione saw a shape she had hoped to never come across again. A quick Protego blocked the stunning spell sent towards them by the dark witch.
"Oh goody, I do like a girl with spunk!" the witch laughed as she sauntered nearer to the girls. The black dress hugged her mature curves well and Hermione found herself suddenly envious of the woman she called her enemy. Messy dark curls swayed back and forth and a cruel smile formed over red lips. Hermione's eyes traveled up to black, expressionless eyes and she was shocked once more by the emptiness that blocked the sight to the soul inside. Her wand she held straight and true, the tip level with Hermione's eyes, her hand unnaturally steady.
Screams echoed around her, but in her mind, time stopped. Fear gripped her insides, her thoughts travelling back to the night of the flight to The Burrow. Summoning her courage and steeling her nerves, the brunette raised her wand in response, Ginny mimicking her actions at her side.
"Hmmm," the witch hummed, her wicked smile growing. "This ought to be fun. Ready to start up where we left off, girly?"
Ginny was the first to let a spell shoot towards the dark woman. The woman dueled both young witches expertly – almost lazily.
How can anyone be this good! Hermione shrieked internally.
Around them, members of the Order and various other attendees of the wedding dueled the Death Eaters.
"Retreat! Back to the Manner!" a gruff voice yelled through the chaos. "He's calling!"
One by one, columns of smoke ascended into the dark night sky.
Hermione didn't stop. The dark witch, realising the fight was over and her Lord called them back, broke her attack. Grinning wildly, the witch tipped her wand in a mock salute to the girls. "Ta, dearies!" And then she disappeared in a cloud of smoke as black as her name and followed her fellow Death Eaters into the night.
