Disclaimer – I own nothing.
A.N. - Hello folks! I know you guys have waited, what feels like, forever! But here it FINALLY is. I'm SUPER NERVOUS about this chapter. This chapter took so much out of me that I would have gone insane if I had to read through it one more time with all my doubts. But I sincerely hope everyone enjoys! Happy Halloween!
Sidenote: EEK! So, this story has been nominated for How I Met Your Mother (Favorite Marriage Law) and After the Rain (Best Angst) in the Beyond the Book Fanfiction Nook Summer Awards 2018! Whether or not I win, it really does just make me feel warm inside that this story is thought of. If any of you lovelies would like to vote: (remove the stars) ht*tps:*/docs.*/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSf9h-zaH8sTTErFV0GU_R1bCLNUDW-HszRzcuHJ7Ikk3lCZbA/viewform?usp=sf_link
On another note, I would like us to give a final standing ovation for Elle Morgan-Black for being a wonderful beta and friend, but alas, this was her last chapter beta-ing this story. Note, that she was only able to beta about a third of this chapter, so all the errors belong to me and my horrible proof-reading skills! We'll all miss her great magical powers terribly!
To N1ne, Guest (1), LCB, seatoncm, Guest (2), Wolfxo88, , SeleneBlackburn, Samantha, Hexpen, Guest (3), Riley, Guest (4), Green Eyed Lana Lee, riversgirl75, RaseyafromRavenclaw, Guest (5), Guest (6), katelynnwho, Wynter Phoenix, DutchScorRosefan, Guest (7), garciamonique2011, cruciatuscursed, mrslara2112, Guest (8), Guest (9), Beauty Eclipsed, moodygoody, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, anonyxxx, CancerScorpio15, wond0rful, Bailey4047, Ditte3, Ein011, Guest (10), addictedtoloveandfiction, Honoria Granger, Guest (11), pgoodrichboggs, Guest (12): THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! I'm so glad that you guys enjoyed the last chapter! Lots of sweat, blood, and tears go into writing these chapters, so thank you for your thoughts, opinions, and guesses. Seriously, I cannot mention enough how much I take all of your comments and criticisms into account when I write. You guys make me laugh and think right along with you. Hopefully this chapter was up to par, though I was in a strange mood for some of it, so be forewarned if the writing style feels a bit off at times. Warning: this chapter gets super angsty at certain points, but I hope there's enough love and simple joy to balance it out.
To all who favorited, followed, and/or simply read silently—I can feel your silent love through the internet waves! On with the show!
/Love is easy, easy, so don't you make it hard
Can't you see me, see me, see me? Be easy with my heart
All we got is here and now, Why won't you let your guard down?
I'm just tryna show you how love is easy, so don't you make it hard/
— Easy, Ella Mai
Chapter 15 – The Wish, the Light, and the Dream
The morning after the solstice ritual was always strange for Draco. It'd been so long that he'd actually attended and received grace that he'd forgotten the weightlessness that came the morning after. His limbs felt like gravity was playing a game of hide-and-seek, pushing against him cruelly one moment, and completely gone the next.
It was that feeling that had him awake, restless, in the peak hours before the dawn. His eyes stared at the ceiling, wondering how he'd gotten to where he was.
A Dark Mark.
A wife.
A crown.
A future he wasn't sure he recognized anymore.
His thoughts swirled, heavy inside of himself, crushing his chest until suddenly, he found himself leaping off the bed and launching himself into the bathroom. A wave of his hand brought light, but Draco might as well have been in complete darkness for all the difference it made. His mind wouldn't stop. His hands gripped the sink tightly.
Breathe.
One, two, three…
Breathe.
Draco tried to keep it together, but there was too much inside of his heart.
A Dark Mark.
A wife.
A crown.
A present he wasn't sure he fully understood.
Draco clenched his teeth, breathed hard through his nose, frustrated at himself. He thought he was stronger than this, but there he was, panicking.
He knew he was better than such weakness, but fuck, he was drowning. He felt so heavy, so burdened by everything in his life. He just wanted peace. He wanted to be thirteen again with the world at his feet, energy to spare at his fingertips. But instead, he knew there was a pile of bills sitting at his desk waiting for his perusal for the Wizengamot. There were tons of things to be signed, rejected, and passed on. There were hours of material ready for his scrutiny and inspection for the Malfoy businesses. There was a packet full of homework waiting to be finished for his classes. There was a list of troublesome families and descendants that Draco had to meet with his father about to make sure they didn't need bailing out or rescuing for his duty as King. There was a separate list of people that he'd already been briefed on that absolutely needed his help, which he had to make sure got taken care of before the day was through.
Breathe.
One, two, three…
Breathe.
But he was screaming. He was screaming, and he couldn't stop.
Hermione, startled awake, was there, wand in hand, looking for danger, but there was none.
Only him.
Only his screams jumping off of the walls.
Only the Dark Mark, stark against his skin, bleeding into the air around them.
Only a wife worried for her husband, unsure what she could truly do to help him.
Only a crown that overwhelmed and consumed devastatingly.
Only a past that chased him whenever he closed his eyes.
Breathe.
The echoes of his screams stopped crashing into them.
"It'll get better" Hermione whispered, love and pain for him shining in her eyes. "It has to."
She didn't ask him if he was okay because she could see the answer in his eyes.
He wanted to die…and finally be at peace.
Severus Snape met Lily Evans on a wet and cold day when he was seven years old. She'd been twirling, yellow raincoat flaring around her like a full body halo. He'd barely taken all of her in when she'd bounded over to him, red flaming hair limp and sticking to her face.
"Hullo! I'm Lily, like a flower!"
"I'm Severus, like—" he wanted to think of a comparison, but he couldn't. "Like nothing, I 'spose."
Those words, spoken carelessly, would define his self-esteem for the rest of his life. Even though he didn't know it, he still wished he could take it back.
After Draco's clear meltdown, Hermione laid awake for most of the night, wondering, worrying. Her leg rested on Draco's hip possessively. Draco's breathing was steady and slow, but Hermione wasn't appeased.
Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn't understand Draco's reaction. Sure, he'd been stressed, but he was always stressed.
He was always under pressure. So what had changed yesterday? What could have possibly changed in one day?
Hermione didn't have an answer, but she knew something must've changed. The despair in his eyes said as much.
She wasn't sure what she could do, however, if he refused to talk to her. In her helplessness, Hermione held him closer. It was all she knew to do for the man she loved.
She held him tight as night turned into dawn, and dawn saw the sunrise overshadow everything with its light; all the while, she simply prayed that her love would be enough to see them through whatever was going on.
Finally, Draco roused, unconsciously burying his head in between her breasts.
"Good morning," he groggily said, voice muffled.
"How are you feeling?" Hermione whispered. Her worry was clear, but Draco absentmindedly nipped at her chest.
"I'll feel marvelous once I ravish you."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and pulled at his hair. "Think you did that well enough last night."
He groaned in response, "I was a prat, and you're beautiful for recognizing that I needed that last night. Jealousy does not become me—Let me make it up to you properly. Think three orgasms consecutively might redeem me?"
It was a tempting thought but Hermione's worry doused any desire she would've felt.
"Draco…" she said his name too seriously for his taste.
"Four orgasms then?"
"Seriously. You were pretty distraught last night."
Her words might as well have been scalding for how fast he moved away from her. "I don't want to talk about that."
"Well, bully for you because I think we should talk about it!"
His glare was fierce, but what she didn't know was that the second she brought it up, all his responsibilities came crashing down around him.
"What do you want to know, Granger?" Draco snapped as he got off the bed. A quick scourgify, and he was taking off his pajamas, throwing on his daytime clothes, grabbing his death eater robes and mask.
"I want to know what's wrong," Hermione pleaded with him. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, because his pain was her pain...because she loved him. Maybe too much. Definitely beyond reason.
"Nothing's wrong—"
"Oh, clearly! Everyone breaks down in the middle of the night because nothing is wrong. Silly me."
He doesn't trust you.
The thought came out of nowhere, and Hermione had to look away. She knew that wasn't true. At least not as true as it had once been.
He doesn't trust you enough to tell you.
No, Hermione knew this wasn't about trust. This was about love.
When she looked back, Draco was shoving a box into her hands. "What is this?"
"This is for that damn necklace," he waved towards the drawer where she'd put it. "It should ideally fit all the ones you find if they're of reasonable size."
"The horcruxes? Why?"
"Don't you feel it? The doubt, the fear creeping in?" Hermione blushed in response because it was true. She hadn't even considered the idea that there was something magical about her thoughts. Draco nodded understanding. "It's easy to miss since you've only been around it one night. A few days or a week and you'd have noticed. But I've been around dark objects my whole life. I'm more in tune with the darkness."
Hermione grabbed the box, and opened it. There was an obsidian stone on the inside of the cover. It wasn't ostentatious but she could practically feel it pulsing with magic. She'd never held something so alive.
"Thank you," she said with a small smile.
He hesitated for a moment, but leaned down and placed a slow kiss upon her lips.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips. He whispered it because despite all the burdens on his shoulders, that was all he had in the light of day chasing his demons away.
His love for her.
Before Hermione could respond in kind or deepen the kiss, Draco was gone.
Severus Snape was eleven years old when he had met Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had been a third year, but even at thirteen he'd stood tall, as though the world owed him something.
During that first week of school, it'd been hard to adjust for Severus. He'd had to make sure to change privately so no one would see the bruises on his body until they healed naturally. This had made him seem anti-social, and more awkward than he typically was.
It hadn't helped that people had watched him intensely as he greeted Lily in the hallways, or made plans to sit with her in the courtyard; it was more than house rivalries, and he'd known it then too.
Her blood had been a beacon for scrutiny, but she was his friend. She'd been there on nights when Tobias Snape couldn't deal with his own pitiful existence and took his rage out on Severus. She'd let him camp out on her bedroom floor, sneaking him past her parents, when it was clear that Tobias wanted to fight the wind, but he'd only find Severus's already bruised and broken body.
These thoughts of gratitude and loyalty—devotion—blared through Severus's mind when it was clear that his fellow Slytherin's were getting more and more annoyed with his friendship with Lily.
These were the thoughts that sprung to mind when Lucius Malfoy, one lazy Sunday afternoon, had approached Severus and asked him "Why do you insist on being in her company?"
"Because she's my friend," Severus said simply. He was Slytherin to the bone, and he wasn't going to give away his secrets.
"We could be friends," Lucius had held his gaze with that same casual arrogance that he did everything. "You could have plenty of friends in your own house."
"Friends or allies?"
It was a fair question and Lucius didn't mock him for it. He'd simply nodded, acknowledging the difference.
"She's a mudblood. You recognize that she's lesser than, don't you?"
Severus had known that he'd needed to tread carefully. He didn't want to ostracize himself either. And unpopular opinions had a way of ostracizing even the most well liked. "Lesser in some ways, sure," he had ambiguously responded slowly.
Lucius smiled at him, a slow and bright smile that made Severus feel like a million galleons. "I suppose you may belong in Slytherin, yet."
It was the first time that Severus Snape felt worthy, and he knew he'd do anything to feel that again. He knew he'd follow Lucius Malfoy anywhere, as long as he was proud of him.
Grimmauld Place, despite its dreariness, smelled of gingerbread and hope when Hermione stepped through the door. Her heart ached something fierce at all the memories that she knew she she'd missed out on this Christmas.
But a warm hug from Molly Weasley when she walked through the door and into the kitchen was enough to settle the nostalgia in her stomach.
"Merry Christmas!" Hermione greeted everyone. A chorus of "merry Christmas" resounded back to her like an echo from Ginny, Fred, and George. It felt strange, though she couldn't put her finger on why. Nothing was really different as she sat down, and conversations flowed around her.
Yet, there was something in Ginny's eyes that she couldn't quite place. Mrs. Weasley had always been attentive, but she was downright hovering over Hermione as though she was battered, which made Hermione wonder who'd been telling tall tales about her being mistreated; her money was on Fred or George.
Finally, others began trickling in, bed heads and all. The only ones truly dressed were those that came to visit, and weren't staying in Grimmauld Place—Bill and Fleur, Charlie, and Remus.
Harry and Ron finally walked downstairs, and they both smiled softly at Hermione who rushed to them.
"Merry Christmas," they chorused as she hugged them both simultaneously.
"How'd you spend Christmas Eve?" Ron asked her nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his tone that Hermione didn't understand or appreciate.
"It was nice, interesting to lead the service for grace," Hermione answered cautiously.
"I told them last night how amazing you were!" Harry winked teasingly at her. She shoved at his shoulder, while Ron muttered, "bloody barmy, you two are." It was so normal that Hermione could've cried in relief.
"Alright, everyone!" Molly ushered everyone towards the table that was extended to fit them all. "Time for Christmas breakfast!"
Though the table had nothing particularly special about it, it gleamed with all the beautiful dishes. The table was alight with all the things that made Christmas so special: food made from love, and family.
It didn't matter that the Weasleys weren't related to Hermione by blood, and that she'd sent her own family away—
"What's happening? I can't remember something important! Henry, Henry, H—I—I—" Hermione's mother screamed as the last remnant of her daughter slipped from her.
–this was her home away from home. These were her chosen family, and that mattered too.
Hermione felt a warm hand on hers, and looked up to see Harry's emerald eyes full of understanding looking down at her.
Of course he understood. He and her were kindred souls in so many ways, that it was impossible, she was sure, for him not to understand, even if they were in an alternate universe where his parents weren't dead.
Hermione turned her hand to grip Harry's back, and the sheer warmth that flooded her reminded her that this was her best friend, and he would always be. It was a certainty that lived in her very bones, which was probably one of the best feelings in the world.
She needed that on days like today, when she inexplicably felt so lonely.
"Oi!" Ron elbowed Harry on his other side. "What are you two waiting for? Dig in."
"Yeah, before Ronnikins eats all the food!" Fred laughed. Everyone at the table chuckled, and Harry and Hermione let each other go to fill their plates.
"Ginny," Molly barked, which startled many at the table. Mrs. Weasley didn't usually take that tone, and not on a holiday. "You're next to Hermione. Help her make her plate."
Hermione had no clue why that was necessary, as she'd never been served in the Weasley's home before, but she quickly assumed that Molly felt guilty about their last meeting with the Order, and this was her way of making it up to her—treating her like an honored guest, instead of family.
Hermione didn't like it; it made her uneasy, so she tried to refuse.
"That's not necessary, Gin," but Ginny had already grabbed her plate, and was filling it up. No one was touching their plate. The Weasleys because of tradition, and Remus because he was following their lead, though he was as confused as Hermione. It was like they were all waiting for her plate to be served to serve themselves, and Hermione felt a pit in her stomach. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, I can serve myself. I've always done so before."
Ginny's hand faltered in her movement, hesitantly waiting for her mother to agree. Her jaw was clenched, and there were sprinkles of resentment in her gaze that was clear to anyone who cared to look.
Suddenly, the table didn't look as pretty as it did before.
Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, was completely torn. It was clear that Hermione didn't want to be served, but it was tradition that the King and Queen were served first, and then everyone could serve themselves. She wanted to honor Hermione's request, but she also didn't want to disrespect tradition and Hermione's new status among them.
What if she honored Hermione's request, and the girl mentioned it to King Draco? Would he see it her way? Would he think that it was a slight against his Muggleborn Queen?
Molly looked to Arthur for the answer, but there was anxiety in his eyes. He might not have gone to see his King's first day of ascension, or hear his edict, but he was still his king. He might hate everything about the monarchy, but he knew that without that connection, he surely would've lost his job during the scandal in second year.
During the few moments where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley locked eyes, Hermione had had enough.
"For Merlin's sake! Put it down, Gin!" Her words were a command, and Ginny was helpless against it. Her body moved without consent, and she laid the plate directly down where her hand had hovered. Ginny couldn't help the seed of hate that burst in her chest at the young Queen.
"Now, c'mon everyone," Hermione tried to fix the situation, though she didn't fully understand. "Dig in—it's the Christmas meal we've all been waiting for."
She nodded and smiled, and everyone quickly dug in as well. However, what she didn't know was that they, all except Remus who watched with confused eyes, were afraid that she'd command them to if they didn't; no one wanted their free will toyed with, even for something as innocuous as eating a meal.
Conversation was a bit awkward, afterwards, but in between Fred and George's jokes, and Bill's booming laughter, everything eventually settled back to normal.
However, as all conversations at Grimmauld Place, it eventually came down to the war.
"How sentient are Dragons, exactly?" Hermione asked Charlie, who was seated right across from her.
"They're a lot like most magical creatures, in that they understand commands, but they're loyal to those they choose to trust and none others."
"Well, I assume you've got your fair share of dragons and dragon trainers on our side?"
"Why the interest?" Remus asked her curiously, though he had an inkling of what she was going to say.
"According to Malfoy, Dragon's are going to be major players in the war. Voldemort's got his fair share of dragon and dragon trainers on his side."
Remus, Arthur, and Bill all nodded. Arthur commented thoughtfully, "It makes sense. Bulgaria and Ukraine has a strong presence of Dragon Reserves, and it fell to Death Eaters a couple weeks ago. It makes sense that those Dragons and trainers would now be a resource for their cause."
It fell to Death Eaters a couple weeks ago.
Bulgaria. Bulgaria.
There was something itching at the back of Hermione's mind, though she couldn't grasp it.
Harry passed her some pumpkin juice, and Hermione smiled gratefully, the prickle of memory consumed by the joy around her.
Severus Snape was fifteen when he thought his world was collapsing. He'd called Lily a Mudblood and the look of stricken grief she'd given him gutted Severus to his very core. He'd tried apologizing once, but she hadn't wanted to forgive him. She hadn't wanted to listen, and Severus didn't know what to do.
She'd always been the light. She'd always been the soft touch when living with Tobias Snape got to be too much.
Now where would he turn? Who would save him? Who would love him despite how little he deserved it?
"Did you apologize?" Lucius had walked into his dorm room in Hogwarts a few weeks after Severus' last attempt at apologizing to Lily. No one had been in there except for Severus, but even if it had been full, everyone would've scattered with a simple raised eyebrow from Lucius.
As a Third Year Lucius had been a presence worth noticing; as a Seventh Year, he'd been a force that no one could escape.
"Apologize to who for what?" Severus played ignorant.
"To the Mudblood for being honest," Lucius had shrugged. Severus glowered but Lucius hadn't been moved. "You called her what she is. It's no crime to call a dead man dead, and as such no crime to call a Mudblood a Mudblood. But that is neither here nor there. Did you apologize?"
"How did you even hear of this?"
"You may be a Snape, but you are a Prince," Lucius frowned, his shoulders slightly rigid. "A half-blood Prince, but a Prince nonetheless. I ascend soon—in the next winter solstice. As such you are my people. I've always known you are beholden to the crown, as I'm sure you've always known."
It was true—Severus had known, though Eileen had told him in a drunken stupor, pouring her sorrows into the universe. She'd asked the then current King, Abraxas Malfoy for help, but Abraxas had given her one solution: to leave Tobias, to turn her back on her husband, and then he'd bring her back into the fold. He'd protect her only if she were willing to do what she must to protect herself and her son.
Severus had remembered the way her tears had fallen into the same bottle she drank from, as though the strength to leave the monster she loved was at the bottom of the bottle.
Nevertheless, he'd remembered her words towards the connection in their blood—"Don't let them fool you, Severus. Kings are selfish, and care only about themselves. Their kingdom. Their legacy. Them, them, them! What would it have caused Abraxas to help me? To turn Tobias back into the man I met through potions and gold? Nothing! But he only cares about what his subjects can do for him! I hate him! I hate them! And if you love me, Severus, you'll hate them too! And if you don't, then don't worry, because one day you'll learn to hate them too. One day, this king or the next will demand everything and give nothing, and you'll hate the link in our blood too!"
"So?" Severus shook the memory from the forefront of his mind.
"So," Lucius smirked. "I make it a point to know what goes on in your life. Now, must I really ask again?"
"Yes, I apologized," Severus's heart had clenched a bit in pain. He hadn't known that love could hurt so much. For a moment, Severus thought that if Eileen Prince had loved Tobias Snape even half as much as Severus loved Lily, then he could forgive her for not leaving.
"But she didn't forgive you," Lucius determined from the pain clearly etched into Severus's eyes.
"No, she didn't."
"Will you apologize again?"
"How many times do you suggest?"
"As many times as necessary depending on why you want her forgiveness," Lucius laid a hand on Severus's shoulder. "Do you want her forgiveness because you can't live without it—can't live with the thought that she's stopped loving you over a moment of anger. Or do you want it because you need it?"
Severus had wanted to shrug him off, walk away, chin lifted in pride, but Lucius wasn't just his future king; somehow, someway, in between short conversations and the purest form of acceptance Severus had ever known (acceptance for loving a Mudblood, for drenching himself as far in the dark arts as he could, for loving 'light magic' just as much, for being whoever he was), Lucius Malfoy had become his best friend.
"She's all I have," Severus answered him honestly.
Lucius nodded solemnly. "Then continue apologizing until the day you realize that she's not all you have, and you give up your pride for sport."
That Winter Solstice, Lucius Malfoy ascended to king. His first order of business was to go to Severus's home and kill Tobias Snape in the name of his duty to protect all those who were bound to him.
As Severus looked upon the dead eyes of his personal demon, wide with fear and horror, his shoulders sagged with relief; he was unburdened. Severus felt free for the first time in his life, and he never apologized to Lily Evans again.
He stopped apologizing because though he still loved her, and would never stop, he didn't need her anymore.
His king had freed him.
The air was frigid as Draco stood in front of Voldemort.
Red eyes clashed with grey as thunder groaned in the background. Rain poured violently onto the earth, attacking fervently.
It was a moment of decision for both the Dark Lord and his heir.
"My King," Voldemort sneered. He stood imperiously, his eyes watchful and storming as much as the weather outside.
Voldemort knew of his own bloodline, and its link to the Malfoy Empire, but he hated the idea that he was under someone's control. Every fiber in his body thrummed to attack, to kill, to release himself from the binds connecting him to Draco.
But this was also his heir—his chosen one. His cold heart clenched uncomfortably at the thought of killing Draco, but Voldemort pushed it away.
If Draco went against him, he'd die. Heir or not. But the truth that hid inside of Voldemort's mind, locked away, was that despite how much he'd researched, there was no telling what regicide would do to him. There were no ancient tomes detailing the repercussion of such an act of ultimate betrayal.
To not just move against his blood-king, but commit the act of killing him could prove fatal; it was the only reason Voldemort hadn't executed the entire Malfoy line when he discovered his own origins and their link to him.
But Draco knew that there was only ever one option open to him. And though it was slightly horrible, he was a Death Eater long before he'd became king. There was something comforting in being a Death Eater that he couldn't understand or explain even if given a thousand years. The power he wielded when someone's life was in his hands, the release of not having a choice, the pure and unadulterated pleasure that engulfed him when he performed the darkest of arts...there was nothing in the world that compared to any of it. Sometimes, not even Hermione's love.
My King.
"My Lord," Draco knelt on bended knee, and bowed his head in reverence.
Voldemort smiled.
The storm continued to rage outside.
At eighteen, Severus Snape was a man of quiet assurance. He was skillful and determined when it came to any task, single-minded when it came to his heart. It was this single-mindedness that drove him to appear in Narcissa and Lucius' floo an hour before the break of dawn.
Narcissa, awoken by a house elf in regards to the call, ran to the fireplace. She'd been married to Lucius for three years now, Severus had served as the best man at the wedding, he'd seen them at their very worst, he was held in the highest esteem and had their utmost trust and confidence, yet he'd never called or appeared at the Manor at such an hour. Just the fact that it was a late night call had Narcissa's heart pounding in fear, convinced that something was terribly wrong.
She opened the floo fully so that Severus could step through, but she hadn't been prepared for what she saw when he did.
Eyes, glazed in a drunken stupor, clothes wrinkled from a night full of aimless wandering, lips tight in rage and despair—it was clear that Severus was devastated. Severus was torn to the very depths of himself, and Narcissa didn't know what to do.
"What's happened?" she whispered.
"My heart," Severus pounded his chest roughly, which made Narcissa jump, startled. "My heart, my heart!"
Narcissa didn't know what he meant, but she could plainly see that this was a conversation between best friends; she nodded, and turned around to get Lucius. She knew Severus would help himself to the bar in the living room in the meantime.
A few minutes later, Lucius had appeared in his silk pajama pants, shirtless, sleep receding quickly from his eyes at the sight.
"You've given my wife quite a scare," he said casually as he sat gracefully on the couch.
"I'm s'ry," Severus slurred.
"She knows," he nodded, and tipped his head towards the drink in Severus's hand. "What's wrong?"
"Where should I begin?" Severus's drunken rage returned. "Where should I start the sad tale of my pit'ful existence?"
"Begin at the end," Lucius told him kindly, honestly. "It's the only thing that ever matters really—the end."
"She married him," Severus whispered brokenly. "I loved her, beyond reason, and she never forgave me. She never wanted me. Instead, she chose him!"
Severus didn't need to explain who "she" or "him" was. Lucius had heard the rumors as well as anyone—Lily Evans was now officially Lily Potter.
"This isn't a surprise, Severus. They got engaged right after the graduation ceremony—you knew they'd eventually wed. Just so happens that they didn't wait long. So what is this really about?"
Severus paused, because even in his drunken state, he knew that Lucius was right. Lucius was always annoyingly right.
"It hurt...more than I thought it would. More than I thought it could. It hurts so bad, that I can barely see through the pain. I can't—I can't—" Severus clutched at his chest, clawing at the beating organ that hid beneath.
His eyes burned, unchecked, but also ignored.
Lucius stood from his seat, kneeled at Severus's feet, grasped his wrists to stop him, and waited for Severus to look him squarely in the eye. Once Severus did, Lucius pierced him with a truth no one had ever bothered to tell Lucius before:
"It's okay to cry for the things you love, Severus. It's okay to cry—it doesn't make you less of a man. I was completely destroyed when Narcissa miscarried last year—I cried for hours, and you didn't fault me for it. I won't fault you for this, because any man who can't cry for the things he loves isn't a man, or has never loved."
With those words, Severus bent his head and broke; his sobs echoed in the hallways of Malfoy Manor; his pain tore at the very fabric of its walls, as this was Lucius's home and they were brothers; they were brothers, in blood, bonded by time, trust, love, and a permanent mark on their forearms; they were brothers in arms, and Severus's pain was Lucius's pain, just as it had always been because he was also his people; Severus wailed, and Lucius simply hugged him, bent his head atop of Severus's crown, and tried to be a comforting presence.
"How do I get past this?" Severus muttered brokenly.
Lucius didn't have an answer; he had yet to get over the child that should exist, but didn't, and never will. HIs heart had yet to mend, and he didn't think it ever would fully.
"You don't. You just...learn to live with the pain. Until maybe one day you forget it's there."
"I can't! I can't live like this," Severus sobbed harder, breathing labored, panicking at the thought of feeling such pain forever. He'd survived Tobias Snape, but Lily Potter had been his breaking point. He pleaded, eyes full of trust, "Lucius, help me!"
Lucius nodded, and stood up. His elegant hand looked like porcelain in the dusk of dawn as it stretched out to Severus.
Without thought Severus took the outstretched hand waiting to help him up, tear drops clung to his eyelashes like dew to grass on such a morning.
"If you can't learn to live with the pain, then bury it. Bury it so deep inside of yourself that it'll be just a whisper in the still of the night."
"How?"
Lucius took his wand from his pajama pockets, waved it silently, and like the darkest hope, their Death Eater masks and robes appeared.
The masks shined and glinted in the darkness like salvation.
"Revel."
Severus nodded, blindly turning his pain into rage.
After breakfast, everyone settled around the Christmas tree to open presents. Hermione had received a book from Ron, which was no surprise, though the inscription inside made her heart lurch for a second. It read in his lazy scrawl, to the woman who'll always have a piece of me.
It was the nicest—no, most thoughtful—gift Ron had ever given her, and she had hugged him tightly in thanks. Mrs. Weasley had given her a rug that belonged to her ancestor. Mr. Weasley had watched her open the gift and said "May the earth guide you both," which Hermione took to mean that it was a present for her and Draco.
It was a strange gift, but Hermione felt that there was a silent weight attached to them that she was inexplicably touched. Finally, when all the presents were open, Harry beckoned her towards the doorway.
They hadn't exchanged presents because during third year, Hermione had finally gotten the courage to tell him that she hated his gifts. It wasn't that they weren't perfectly acceptable gifts; sadly, they were the opposite—too perfectly acceptable that they might as well have been for a stranger. Harry Potter was always so anxious about the whole giving affair that he always picked presents that were neutral—they could be for anyone for any occasion.
It had made Hermione feel like she didn't matter. But she had known that she did. She had known that she was his best friend. So, instead of physical present, they gave each other wishes. It was strange, yet perfectly them.
She walked over to him, and stood next to him as he watched the Weasleys laugh and smile as though there were no worries beyond the door.
"I'm going to miss this," Harry sighed.
Hermione nodded, understanding that this bubble couldn't last. "At least we can enjoy this moment."
Harry turned towards her, and smiled lightly. "I wish you all the happiness you've ever desired."
"You can't wish me that. You wished me that last year!" Hermione huffed, though her eyes were alight with laughter.
"What's wrong with that? It's a good wish!"
"It's lazy to give someone the same gift twice in a row, is what it is Harry James Potter!"
"Okay, okay," Harry chuckled. "How about I wish you hope for the future?"
Hermione glared, "You wished me that the year before last!"
"Really?"
"Harry!"
Harry laughed, a deep laugh that came from his gut. It was carefree, and his shining eyes were the rising sun.
After a moment, he calmed and put his hands in his pocket; Harry leaned against the doorframe, a smile teasing his lips. His eyes regarded her tenderly as he murmured, "I wish you a love that never dies, never fades, never changes."
It was the best gift he'd ever given her. It was finally perfect, and Hermione's heart felt full.
Severus Snape was twenty years old when Draco Lucius Malfoy was born. He'd been in the woods behind Malfoy Manor with Lucius, for what was at the very least ten hours. They could hear Narcissa screaming in pain, but a steady look from Severus reminding him that this was natural, normal, kept him from running towards the sound of his wife.
The sun hung low as an old witch with a severe humpback came to get them.
"It is time," she scowled.
Lucius practically leapt to his feet, though he did have the social grace to wait for Severus to walk with him as they followed Madame Duala. Neither were quite sure how old the woman was, but she'd seen Lucius born, which was telling enough.
They walked to the pond where the last five generations of Malfoys were born, and in the middle of it was Narcissa. Her lower body was submerged in the water, while there was a circle of witches, most just as old as Madame Duala (though some were young replacing their mothers or grandmothers) surrounding her. They chanted words long lost to many who no longer practiced the old ways.
"Is she alright?" Lucius asked Madame Duala as she went to walk away, back to the circle. She gave him a grave look and simply responded, "It is time."
Her response wasn't helpful but there was no time because Narcissa was screaming, and the magic flowing around her was so intense, that the ground shook underneath Lucius and Severus. The water in the pond started to boil, and Severus took a step forward along with Lucius.
They were terrified that this wasn't normal. Yet, the boiling stopped once Narcissa howled to the earth her pain, so intense that she probably would be hoarse for days. The water lit up as though it were a candle—fire surrounded the circle, spread throughout the circle, sitting atop the pond, as though the water were simply a veil.
Lucius had been born in this same pond, and he'd never recalled anyone mentioning fire, though none of the midwives seemed particularly surprised. Perhaps this was simply one of those things—the kinds of things no one talks about, just experience and move on.
It had only been a few minutes, but just as Narcissa slumped over, and one of the midwives reached into the water to lift his son out of the water, another midwife spoke—this time both recognized her as the recently newlywed Mrs. Xenophilius Lovegood, Pandora Lovegood.
Her words carried in the wind and both men were frozen in shock;
"The Dragon, born under fire, will fly across the horizon...the fallen will rise...the chains will break... and whosoever grabs his wing will ride into the sun in victory...and who forsakes him will burn beneath a new world order... for the heavens will never abandon its dragon or those under his protection...the Dragon born under fire will ride into the sun..."
The words were spoken, Lucius's son's cries filled the tense air around them, but all Severus could think of was that he was going to be a godfather. He was going to be a godfather to someone important.
He was going to love Draco Malfoy more than he'd ever loved anyone.
Severus looked at Lucius, and saw his emotions reflected back at him; they both had tears in their eyes, because they were men...and men cried for what they loved...and they loved Draco, despite not having officially met him yet.
They loved a little boys cries so much so that they both knew that they'd do anything to make sure those cries outlived them both.
"Where's my wish?" Harry joked, as they walked upstairs. They'd signaled Ron to follow them, so that they could talk in private.
"What kind of wish would be enough for the Chosen One?" Hermione teased him, though there was a genuine quality to her tone that told Harry that this was a real concern.
"Since when do you worry about not being enough for me?" His hand was warm on her arm, as he stopped their ascension on the stairs. He blushed lightly, knowing how it sounded, and qualified his statement. "You know what I mean."
"I know," she nodded dismissively. "It's not about being enough, it's just...I don't know. So much is changing, and I'm not sure which wish you'd care for."
"Whichever you want to give me."
"Harry," Hermione said exasperatedly.
"Hey," Harry rubbed her arm a bit in comfort. "This is us. Whatever is in your heart to give me is what I want."
Hermione shook her head, because this year she was the one struggling with the affair of giving. "I wish you everything, then."
"Everything?"
"Everything—everything that is good and honest and pure in the world. Everything that you could want."
Harry nodded, then shrugged casually. "Sounds pretty generic to me."
"Harry!"
He threw his head back and laughed. It felt nice to laugh like this with his best friend. It'd felt too long since they were this simple.
"Okay, okay, Everything doesn't sound so bad."
Before Hermione could respond, Ron came stampeding up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
"Sorry," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "Fred and George thought it'd be hilarious to sit on me while singing a Christmas carol. And mum didn't stop them either! Bleedin' lunatics, I tell you!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've got to get going soon, but we should talk."
"Yeah, let's go in here—the walls have ears," Ron referred to George and Fred's latest machinations, as well as the portraits that lined the walls of a most ancient and noble house.
They filed into Harry and Ron's room; Ron made sure to check the area, while Hermione cast a quick muffliatio.
"How did it go with Umbridge last night?" Harry sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes intent upon her. "I saw that she was preening around"
"She was definitely around, but I took her down a peg or two," Hermione couldn't help but feel a little petty glee at her encounter with the woman she loathed. "I also got the Horcrux fairly painlessly in that ordeal."
Hermione took out the box that Draco had given her, and opened it to reveal the necklace. The second she opened the box, a chill swept the room, and they all immediately tense. An inherent sense of wrongness engulfed them, which they couldn't shake.
"Why's it in this box?" Ron inquired, while poking it with his wand. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes again—same old Ron, no matter what, she thought.
"Malfoy gave me the box, actually. It contains the darkness. Without it, we're susceptible to all of its influence. The box basically traps it."
"You came through," Harry smiled at Hermione in a strange mixture of pride and gratitude. "I knew you would. You always do."
She nodded in acknowledgement, but looked away to avoid mentioning that a year ago they would've never put her in that position in the first place.
"What's the next piece?" Ron cut through the bullshit. He was good at that sometimes.
"I don't know but it has to be something that he clearly cares for or gives special attention to," Hermione tried to brainstorm.
"The only thing that monster cares about is himself," Harry sneered. "Himself and his snake."
"His snake?" Hermione honed in on that. They all paused and looked at each other.
The snake wasn't an object. It was a living, breathing…how was it even possible? But the silence said too much, and they all knew that despite how improbable and impossible, Voldemort had made himself a living Horcrux. The implications...
Hermione glanced up at Harry's scar, but quickly looked away. "Okay, so how do we get a snake we can't find?"
Severus Snape was thirty-three the first time he saw Marietta Lumkipper. She was beautiful like all LumKippers were known to be. But beyond that, she had such an obnoxious laugh that Severus couldn't help but pause.
He was at a function that Lucius had dragged him to when they locked eyes. A current of unbridled magic coursed up Severus's spine, and his heart accelerated. Marietta, not being tame in nature, excused herself and marched towards him.
Inexplicably panicked, Severus ran to Lucius and gave a quick goodbye before practically launching himself into the floo. The last thing he saw before the fireplace whisked him away was a pair of sapphire eyes.
Two weeks later he saw her again, this time at his favorite restaurant in Prague. It had been Narcissa's birthday, and she'd insisted that they go to Na Vrcholu Hory—the Mountaintop. They'd discovered the low-key, yet elegant restaurant in their youth, when the first war had been over, but just barely, and they were looking to escape away from the prying eyes of Wizarding Britain.
As he walked in, he spotted Lucius and Narcissa's shining hair in the corner of the restaurant—their favorite seats in the place. A small smile graced his features, but as he continued, he saw someone else at the table. Marietta LumKipper.
His smile devolved, and his heart rate spiked. It was absurd to have such a strong reaction to someone who laughed like a Weasley, and yet...her eyes pierced him.
"Severus!" Narcissa greeted him with a warm hug.
Though she was reserved, as most purebloods in public, in company with close friends, Narcissa was a warm and passionate woman who loved her family greatly. Whenever she greeted him with such warmth and happiness, Severus always felt humbled to realize that he was fortunate enough to be considered family to such a woman.
"Took you long enough!" Lucius smirked as he embraced Severus briefly, knowing very well why Severus had slowed his walk towards them. "I don't believe you've had the pleasure. This is Marietta LumKipper. Marietta, this is the esteemed potions master, and our very good friend, Severus Snape."
Marietta stood up with a grace that spoke of a lifetime of etiquette lessons. She held out her hand, positioned for a kiss. "A pleasure."
Severus scowled, though he took her hand. "Lady," he nodded appropriately in acknowledgment, but refrained from kissing her hand. "Though it has yet to be seen as a pleasure."
Narcissa gasped, eyes wide, in genuine surprise at Severus's tone and words. They'd known each other for most of their lives, and she'd never seen him be so brisk, so downright rude, with someone he'd just met. Lucius of course simply coughed to try and cover up his mirth.
Marietta, however, outright laughed. Her laughter was born out of bewilderment and startlement, but still. She laughed that annoying laugh of hers that made him want to kiss her.
Severus couldn't help but continue to scowl. Suffice to say, he was not in high spirits that evening.
Frankly, he was not in high spirits for two whole months afterwards, considering he felt like he couldn't get away from Marietta LumKipper. Everywhere he went, there she was, with that laughter, and those shining eyes.
Everywhere he saw her, his chest would constrict painfully at all the possibilities that he knew were in his reach.
As Hermione went to leave, Harry walked her to the floo, enjoying the quiet between them. She'd already gone around, giving merry hugs and well wishes for the New Year to everyone she could find. Ron had been walking with them, but he had been easily distracted by cake. Fred and George had disappeared to Merlin-knew-where, so Hermione didn't bother to try searching for them. However, she knew that she wouldn't see any of them again until classes resumed, as the Malfoys were expected at Chateau Knott for the New Years, and so she didn't want her earlier gift to be what she left Harry with.
As they finally stopped in front of the floo, Harry went to hug her goodbye but Hermione held out her arm, keeping him at a distance.
"What's wr—"
"I wish you light, Harry," Hermione interrupted him. After their talk of Horcruxes, she'd realized how consumed and trapped by darkness their lives really were. Maybe she deserved it, for wanting Draco so much—someone who reveled in the dark. But Harry didn't. Her eyes fixed upon his, and Harry knew this was the gift he'd wanted all along. A smile played along his lips as he listened. "Times are dark, darker than ever before, and things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. But I hope that even in that darkness you can find a light to hold onto...I wish you light in life and in your heart."
Without thought Harry stepped forward and hugged her tightly, arms wrapped around her shoulders. His arms were a shelter from the world—a world that was crueler every day, full of political games and broken promises; Hermione clutched him back just as tightly.
Harry quietly spoke against her hair, "You're my best friend, Hermione. You keep me grounded when I'm lost and remind me of who I am when I struggle. You are the light, and you'll always be the light because nothing can break us."
It was their truth, and Hermione felt the conviction of those words settle in her bones.
Nothing can break us.
She stepped away from him and glanced at his scar. In that moment she understood Draco better than she ever had before, because she couldn't forget who she was before she became a wife, just as she knew he struggled in their marriage because he couldn't forget who he'd been before they'd pledged themselves to each other:
She was Hermione Granger first, best friend to Harry Potter, the brains of the Golden Trio, fearless, brutal and wicked when it came to protecting her best friend, and she loved Harry Potter wholeheartedly, in their special way.
Likewise, she knew that Draco Malfoy was first, son and heir to Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, feircesome, ruthless and bloodthirsty when it came to protecting his family—his legacy, and he loved Lord Voldemort though he'd likely never admit it; it was a strange, secret, distorted love born from an admiration and worship that Hermione couldn't understand, and doubted was mutual. Nonetheless, through the fear and the hate, through the despair and resentment, there was love—even if he didn't know it.
But this was who Draco was at his core, just as this was who she was at her core. The core of their being didn't change just because they were bound by grace and the earth.
She could never forget that, and the revelation left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She tried to shake it off, because this wasn't about Draco at all; this moment was about them—Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, and the fact that it felt good to recognize that she hadn't lost the best part of her: her radiantly unconditional love for her best friend.
But Harry's words flashed through her mind:
You keep me grounded when I'm lost and remind me of who I am when I struggle.
"Nothing can ever break us, Harry." She smiled gingerly at him, "But are you sure you're not talking about Luna?"
"Luna's the dream," Harry whispered honestly. "She doesn't judge my mistakes, and accepts me the way I am; she sees all of me. She reminds me that it's okay to be happy in little moments, and gives me a reason to fight, to survive, to see the end of this war, and past it...She's the hope for a better day, when I'm not so weak or lost trying to live up to my purpose. You're the light that guides me, that I can trust unquestionably, so that one day I can have the dream."
"What about Ginny?"
Harry shrugged, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how she fits yet, or if she ever really will. But I'm open. I'm willing."
I'm open. I'm willing.
That was all anyone could be when it came to matters of the heart; that was all anyone could ask of friends and lovers; Hermione thought of her enigmatic husband, waiting for her, (I'm open. I'm willing), and smiled.
Three months after Severus' first encounter with Marietta, Lucius had thrown a party and insisted that Severus attend. Severus, feeling all his good will towards Lucius's events draining fast tried to decline, but Lucius refused to hear of it.
"What will people say about my parties if my own best friend refuses to attend?!" Lucius pretended to be affronted, but Severus saw right through him.
After four hours of pointless mingling—Severus had never learned to enjoy large social gatherings—and purposefully hiding from Marietta, he went into the garden for some peace and quiet. But there she was, looking up at the moon.
She turned her head, and stared at him; no smile graced her lips for once, and he could see true hurt in them.
"Why do you run from me?" she had whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion, and Severus felt like a cad. She'd done nothing to him, and she wouldn't have been the first woman or man to chase him over the years. Usually, he treated them with cruel disinterest and eventually they left him alone.
He'd never purposefully run from any of them...until now.
Severus cleared his throat. "I am not a kind man, Miss LumKipper. I know that I may be a free Death Eater, but make no mistake. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."
"So you are trying to save me?"
"If that is how you would like to view it," Severus said stoically. This was who he was, now. He was no longer a boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was no longer that heartbroken eighteen year old who clung to Lucius as he cried the only tears he'd ever had to give.
"I think you are a rotten liar, Severus Snape!" Marietta snapped, and her eyes glittered with purpose. "I think you are afraid of being rejected for your past, but your history means nothing to me!"
"You foolish girl," Severus snarled. "Do you have any idea of the deplorable things I've done? If you did you would think again before forgetting history and chasing after me."
"I may be a foolish girl, but I care, and I am not sorry."
Severus shook his head, "You barely know me. A few stilted conversations does not create a lasting connection."
"You are right," Marietta nodded. She removed the space between them in seconds, and her breath tickled his chin. "Logically, it doesn't, but I am not a woman who equivocates. I know my heart, and the second I saw you I knew I wanted you. Logic be damned, because when you looked right back at me, I knew that behind the fear and this wall you have erected between you and the world...you wanted me back...you want me still."
She was right, she was so damn right, but Lily's eyes...he could never forget Lily's eyes.
"I am sorry, Marietta," Severus whispered, his finger traitorously tracing the outline of her cheek. "But my heart belongs to another. It has for a long time."
Her eyes filled with sadness, but the promise in them did not disappear. "Then let me fight for a place in your heart—let me carve out a space for myself. Let me try, at least."
It was the most ridiculous notion Severus had ever entertained, and yet he couldn't stop himself from pressing his lips to hers.
His skin erupted in flames, and he felt hope. He knew he could never love like he'd loved Lily, with that desperate openness and innocence. But looking at Marietta, seeing the determination and softness in her gaze, Severus knew that perhaps he could love again.
Severus knew that Marietta might be able to give him something that Lily never could: a sense of self-worth.
He'd been willing to die if that was what was needed for the memory of Lily Potter; perhaps he could find it in himself to live for the love of a woman who thought he was worth forgiving his sins—who thought he was worth fighting for.
Hermione stepped through the floo, and paused at the sight before her.
Draco sat on the floor of their bedroom, seemingly meditating, sweat running down the side of his face. His wand was on the nightstand, as far from him as possible. His hands were in front of him, palms up, steady along with his breathing.
Hermione walked fully into the room. "What are you doing?"
"How was your day?" Draco ignored her question, though he didn't open his eyes or move at all.
"Strange," Hermione took off her outer robe and gloves which she'd rolled her eyes at having to wear for "propriety's sake" despite not stepping a foot outside. "But good."
Draco's shoulders tensed, but he remained where he was. "How was it strange?"
Please don't let it have to do with—
"Mrs. Weasley made Ginny serve me," Hermione began to undo the laces of her shoes. "Can you believe it?"
"Did she say why?" he asked cautiously, splitting his concentration between the conversation and his task at hand.
"No, though I didn't ask either. I suppose she was trying to make amends for the last encounter we had."
"Last encounter?"
"We had a bit of a tiff at the last Order meeting I attended, the night you were punished for your vote," Hermione shivered slightly at the memory. She shook her head, and began to undress. "It was downright strange, though. Ginny certainly wasn't pleased, I'll tell you that."
Draco sighed heavily, already wondering if Hermione's actions today might have any ramifications that he'd have to deal with. He felt a tug of worry in his stomach, but tried to push it away. Despite the topic of conversation, it was nice to discuss seemingly innocuous things like everyday-married couples. No arguments, no words meant to cut. Just two ordinary people living their lives together.
"So, what did you do?"
"I told her that I could serve myself, of course," Hermione reached for Draco's quidditch t-shirt. He coveted the shirt, and rarely let her use it, which she didn't blame him for. It was supremely comfortable. But surrounded by Slytherins, Hermione learned to take advantage of moments, and right now she was taking advantage of the fact that he was visually ignoring her. "Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to want to listen, but I told Ginny that it wasn't necessary, and to put the plate down."
Draco almost groaned. "You asked her or you told her to put it down?"
"Well, I told her, but what difference does—"
"Like a command?"
"For Merlin's sake! Yes, if you want to put a finer point to it, like a command, but better question: since when do you care how I speak to Ginny?" Hermione glared at the interrogation, suspicion gnawing at her stomach.
Something wasn't quite right, she just didn't know what.
"I don't particularly," Draco tried to find a suitable answer, while simultaneously regretting the fact that he hadn't given her this morning the speech and list that Lucius had told him to give her last night. "But our positions as Lady and Lord aren't what they were before among the Pureblood families, even the Weasleys. They'll expect more...decorum...from us, now. Especially since we lead the service for grace—we're community leaders now, the both of us. She was probably trying to show you respect for leading the service."
"Are you suggesting that I was being rude?" Hermione glared at his head, as she walked softly towards the mantle above the fireplace, removing her earrings.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he smirked. He could picture her curls flying about her in electric anger. He lost his smirk, as he tried to refocus, both on his task, as he had yet to move, and on the moving the conversation along unless he wanted more questions that were surely going to be harder to answer. "Anything else of interest?"
"Well, yes, actually. Apparently, Volde—" Hermione stopped as Draco's eyes snapped open and stared hard at her. "The Dark Lord," she amended with a sneer, "has taken over Bulgaria and Ukraine."
Draco closed his eyes again, and continued what he'd been doing.
"Did you hear me?" Hermione glowered.
"Step away from that self-righteous pedestal, Granger. I told you months ago that The Dark Lord's influence was massive in Bulgaria. We both knew it was just a matter of time before the chips fell where they were going to."
"You must have simply forgotten about Ukraine," she responded sarcastically. Sometime between plotting with Harry and Ron, and saying her goodbyes, it had come to Hermione what had been niggling at the back of her head.
Bulgaria. Bulgaria.
She'd felt guilt at first for purposefully not telling the order because Draco had told her in confidence, at great peril if Voldemort found out. But then she'd felt ire at the fact that he'd purposefully withheld the same information about Ukraine in case she did tell the Order about Bulgaria. It'd been a test. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps everything with Draco was a test.
She remembered their wedding night, and Draco's harsh words:
Don't you get it?...This, all of this, was just a test. A test to see if I've grown up from that sniveling twat who could barely point my wand at Dumbledore, a test to see if your loyal heart was loyal to me at all, a test to see what we're both made of...Pass or fail, it all falls into the same bowl with these little tests. All that matters is that he's pleased. That he's proud because when he is, there's nothing else besides the glory of him.
She wondered if, as Voldemort's heir, he was learning too well the ways of the Dark Lord. But tonight wasn't a night to dwell on what if's—not on Christmas Day.
"What are you doing?" she repeated, this time with a clear tone that told him she wasn't going to be ignored.
"Working out my magical core."
"What?"
Draco sighed harshly. "Strengthening my magical core. Contrary to modern popular belief, your magical core can become stronger through certain exercises."
"How though? I've read some theory on magical core strengthening, and all sources say that you need to do magic in order to strengthen it. Challenge yourself."
"I was doing magic."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, to which Draco responded with a roll of his eyes.
"I'm reaching out to my wand."
Hermione froze as she continued to look at him. Calling ones wand was notoriously the hardest types of magic. Few in history have been known to do it. It wasn't the same as using accio. One had to use ones magic to find its own signature which had imprinted itself on ones wand. Once found, the person needed to have enough of a grasp on the imprinted magical signature to pull the wand to them. Pulling was like out-of-body apparition. The wand would go through space and time and appear in front of the person calling it.
"You can call your wand?" Hermione whispered. If he could...the implications…
Draco snorted, "I wish."
Hermione sighed in relief. She didn't know why, but she was glad he couldn't—that he wasn't that strong.
"Then why do it? Why try?"
"It's good practice," Draco shrugged. "Helps me with focus. Helps me channel."
"How do you do it?" Hermione asked curiously. She wanted to learn. She wanted to challenge herself, too.
Draco turned his head to look at her properly. Even though she didn't say anything, he could see the hunger in her eyes.
"Come sit," Draco tipped his head toward the floor.
Hermione's eyes lit up in excitement and she rushed to sit on the floor directly across from him. Her eyes shined with love and Draco felt like everything would be okay.
He leaned over, and kissed her gently. Their lips caressed each other like the impetus of hope, and he channeled his magic towards her.
Hermione gasped as she felt the extraordinary feeling of her magic being seduced by his. She felt the rise of her magic bubble underneath her skin.
"Feel how it comes from every pore," he whispered huskily against her lips. He let his lips trail against her cheek as he continued his instruction. "Taste that in your mouth? Magic has a taste. Everyone's magic tastes differently."
Hermione's breathing was ragged, but she tried to understand—feel what he said, taste—
She could taste cherries and chocolate.
"That's it," Draco could feel the difference in her magic, the way it changed the way it responded to him. His lips kissed along her jawline lightly. "Now, concentrate on the tips of your fingers. Feel the shape of it, the smoothness of your skin. Feel every atom in your body vibrating, then push the feeling to your fingertips. Push every sense of awareness of your magic into your fingertips."
Hermione did—she pushed and pushed and she felt it all being carried from all around her to the tips of her fingers.
She could feel herself sweating profusely, but it didn't matter because she'd never felt anything like this before. She was dizzy with the immense power coursing through her…
Until Draco's lips left her body, and his hands retreated from hers; he'd moved away, and had subsequently taken all of the magic with him.
Hermione's eyes were wide as she tried and tried to summon her magic the way Draco had, but couldn't.
"What happened?"
"I called your magic for you. Let you play with it a bit. Now you know what it should feel like, and how to do it."
"You—" Hermione couldn't even fathom what just happened. Sure, he couldn't call his wand to him, but he could call her magic which wasn't far off!
Draco nodded smugly, "Merry Christmas."
Hermione shook her head, surprised, confused, and frankly, flabbergasted. But there was a warmth deep in her heart, because he'd known that the most precious gift would be one of magic. "Is that the way you were taught?"
Draco scoffed imagining Voldemort being gentle. "No. But it was a lot more fun this way, wasn't it?"
He smirked, she glared.
Suddenly, Draco felt certain that he could bear the weight of the crown as long as they stayed true to who they were to each other. Draco was unequivocally convinced that he could face all the burdens in the world as long as she loved him.
"I didn't get you a present though," Hermione apologized. She'd been told that those who celebrated the Winter Solstice didn't give Christmas presents. He may not have given her anything material, but he'd given her a priceless gift.
Draco gazed upon his wife tenderly, a sparkle in his argent eyes. "Do you love me?"
"I love you," she answered matter-of-factly.
Draco couldn't help the small smile that graced his face as he looked away. She'd proclaimed her love like a fact—unchangeable, unmalleable, everlasting.
He closed his eyes, and began to call his magic, felt and tasted her love imprinted in his very being.
"Draco?"
Sentimentality wasn't his forte, but just this once, with grace from the moon still clinging to his skin, her love still electrifying the air between them where her magic once was moments before, Draco let her see his heart.
Do you love me?
I love you.
"You've already given me your gift."
Severus Snape proposed to Marietta LumKipper seven months after meeting her. It had been awkward, and he had frowned through his proposal...but she hadn't minded. She understood him; she understood that he was a hard man, and that hardness didn't disappear just because she loved him. That hardness didn't wash away because he felt blessed enough to love her.
Never like Lily, but enough.
Enough.
A.N – So what do you guys think? I really wanted to explore Severus a bit, who he was, how far he's come, and how he got here alongside his deep relationship with Lucius since we're going to be seeing more of him as the story goes on. Anywho, Love it? Hate it? Let me know and Review! **Reviews are love**