Chapter Two
The Prophecy
The alarm went off and Hermione opened one eye, reaching for the clock on her bedside table. She pressed the button to turn it off and heard a growl.
"Fucking Muggle clock. I hate it."
She turned around, finding his face only inches away. She smiled and brushed his blond locks away from his forehead.
He opened his eyes, blinking at her, and Hermione felt her heart race at the sight of those grey irises gazing at her with such intensity.
Draco didn't look at anyone like that… only at her, and she still got nervous when he did.
A crooked smile appeared on his lips as he noticed it. He moved a hand up to her neck, tangling his fingers in her curls and pulling her closer until he could kiss her.
"Good morning," Hermione said as she pulled away with a smile.
"Good morning, love," Draco murmured, yawning and sitting up.
Suddenly, he heard a gasp and glanced at Hermione, who had gone pale.
"What's wrong?"
"Yesterday... We didn't do the charm..."
Draco frowned and stood up, walking out into the corridor. He came back ten seconds later with a vial in his hand.
"There is still one left. Drink it, I'll brew some more tonight."
Hermione took the vial filled with clear liquid and gulped it down. She set the empty bottle on her bedside table and got to her feet.
"We forget about it a lot lately, Draco."
He was searching for clothes in the wardrobe.
"Nevermind. That's what the potion's for," he replied with a shrug.
"What if one day we forget about the potion too? We are so young, and I don't…"
Draco turned around with a scowl, but a smirk spread across his face when he saw her in her purple pyjamas and with her hair dishevelled.
"Don't worry, I won't let it happen again. I'll take care of the charm from now on."
Hermione nodded and he left the room, heading to the bathroom down the corridor to take a shower.
She picked out clothes for the day and went into her parents' room, the only one that was still the same. Draco never went in there and refused to use what was once the Grangers' bathroom so it had become her personal washroom.
Twenty minutes later she came downstairs, wearing a grey dress and carrying a coat in her hand. Draco was in the kitchen, waiting for her at the table with a cup of tea in his hands. She sat down in the other chair and smiled at the breakfast he had prepared.
"It's getting a bit late so you'll have to eat quickly," he warned her, having already finished.
Hermione made a face and finished the toast as quickly as she could. Meanwhile, Draco filled Crookshanks' bowl with food and scratched his chin when the cat came over to thank him.
She drank the rest of her tea and enchanted all the dishes to clean themselves with a flick of her wand. Hermione gently stroked her pet's back and went out into the living room. Draco was already waiting for her by the fireplace.
"He can't stand Ron, he tolerates Harry... but he adores you from the beginning. I just don't understand it," she commented, raising an eyebrow and picking up a handful of Floo powder.
"Your cat is smart. He knows I'm much better than those two idiots," Draco replied with a grin.
Hermione pushed him softly with her shoulder and threw the powder into the fireplace, shouting her destiny. The green flames engulfed her and soon after she found herself in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, surrounded by dozens of wizards walking in all directions.
Even though she had been working there for a little over a year, it still impressed her. Golden symbols and figures were moving on the ceiling, so bright that they reflected on the dark wooden floor.
She looked to the right and sighed at the sight of the new fountain. It had been installed when the war ended, destroying the previous one. A sculpture with over thirty human figures holding their wands and among them were faces like Professor Mcgonagall's and Luna Lovegood's. In the front three figures were looking straight ahead, holding hands.
Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. She hated seeing herself carved in stone... though the image of Ron and Harry holding her hands as the three of them smiled was a nice reminder of the end of so many years of fighting Voldemort.
Two seconds later, Draco emerged from the same fireplace and they both headed for the door that led to the lifts.
They stepped into one where there was a young man in a black robe and the wrought golden grilles slammed shut. Draco grabbed one of the golden ropes hanging from the ceiling and Hermione did the same. The lift was thrown backwards at full speed and she had to grab onto his shoulder to avoid hitting one of the walls.
She heard a giggle and his right arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him and steadying her. Hermione looked up at the ceiling where four purple memos were flying over their heads.
The lift went down one floor and stopped.
"Ninth floor, Department of Mysteries."
"Shall I pick you up for lunch later?" Draco asked, leaning into her and looking into her eyes.
She nodded and he gave her a quick kiss as the golden grilles of the lift opened. He stepped out into the central corridor and looked back, winking at her.
Hermione grinned and took a better grip on the ropes. The lift began to ascend very quickly, not stopping at the other floors.
"I don't understand how you can be with someone like him."
Hermione blinked several times and glanced at the man next to her. She knew him by sight, he was a Muggleborn like her and a couple of years older. He worked in the Magical Maintenance Department and was one of the people in charge of checking and repairing the twenty-five lifts.
"Why do you say that, Wilson?"
"Purebloods disgust me. They're all racists who would like to see us dead," he replied, grimacing and looking away.
She was quiet for a moment, trying to take in what she had just heard.
"Not all of them are like that. Hardly anyone thinks that way anymore, only those in Azkaban."
"They're all the same," Wilson replied, wrinkling his nose.
Hermione was about to speak but the lift stopped suddenly, announcing that they were already on the first floor. The golden grilles opened and she stepped out.
She looked back as they closed again.
"You're very wrong."
Wilson shrugged and the lift shot down, disappearing.
Hermione rubbed her temple and walked towards the Minister's office. She opened a mahogany door and entered.
There was a dark desk at the back and a huge window behind it from which she could see the blue sky. The entire Ministry was hidden underground but the windows had a spell on them so that it didn't look that way.
She pushed back the swivel chair and sat behind her table, letting out a long sigh. It had been raining all over the Ministry the day before and it was depressing to work like that. Someone probably had complained and they had decided to put a sunny morning behind the windows that day.
Hermione shook her head and decided to forget the strange conversation with Wilson. Many Muggleborns hated purebloods since the fall of Voldemort, blaming them for all the murders and tortures that had taken place during the year that the Death Eaters controlled the Ministry.
She pushed her chair over to one of the shelves and pulled out a filing cabinet. She needed to prepare everything regarding the meeting Arthur Weasley was going to have with the Muggle Prime Minister in a week. The Quidditch World Cup, which had been delayed for several years due to the war, was due to start in six months. They needed to prepare everything for the arrival of wizards from all over the world.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Mr. Weasley walked in.
"As early as ever, Hermione," he said by way of greeting, coming up to kiss her cheek.
"Good morning, Arthur. Everything all right?"
"Molly asked me to invite you and your boyfriend to join us for lunch this weekend. It's about time we meet him."
"But you already know him," Hermione replied with a nervous giggle.
"Not formally. You're part of this family and I want to check that Draco Malfoy has changed. I won't believe it until I see it, no matter how much Ron, Harry and Ginny say it's true," he said, smiling.
She nodded.
"Okay, I'll talk it over with Harry. We were going to have lunch with him this Saturday."
"Come to the Burrow then, all of you. The more the merrier," Arthur replied, raising his eyebrows.
After that, he opened the black door to his office and stepped inside, leaving it ajar.
Hermione sighed, thinking of the look on Draco's face when she told him that he was having lunch with all the Weasleys as well as with Harry Potter on Saturday.
She took a pen out of the second drawer and wrote down everything they were to discuss with the Muggle Minister, as well as all the people who would need protection during the days the World Cup matches were in England.
After passing all the controls on his way out of the lift, Draco walked down the windowless black-tiled corridor. The only light came from the torches that were scattered along the wall which were somewhat strange and had a white light.
His eyes lingered for a moment on the stairs leading down to the tenth floor, where the Wizengamot was located. Draco winced at the memory of his trial, locked in that cage as if he were a murderer while every member of the magical court watched him.
He shook his head and opened the only door at the end of the corridor, entering the Department of Mysteries.
He waved to the two guards in the circular hall and made his way to one of the six doors. Draco placed his left hand on the black wood and, after a few seconds, the door opened on its own. He stepped through and closed it again, sighing.
He began to walk among the shelves filled with glass orbs. Most were dust-covered and glowing, though the older ones barely gave off any light anymore. Scattered around the shelves were candles that illuminated everything with a bluish hue, and it was quite cold.
Draco closed his robe tighter and continued walking down the central aisle, ignoring the whispers coming from some of the orbs.
He turned right. At the end of that corridor were two women and one of his best friends, Blaise Zabini. He had also started working in the Department of Mysteries the year before and, for the past seven months, they had been meeting every two weeks in the Hall of Prophecy.
"We've been waiting for you," said one of the women, who was in her mid-twenties and had blue eyes.
"I'm only a minute late, Evans."
"I'm sure it's Granger's fault," Blaise murmured in a mocking voice.
"Shut up," Draco snarled.
Blaise chuckled and the two women moved away, leaving Draco to approach the shelf. One of the glass orbs, the shiniest of them all, had a label with the following written on it:
Sybill Trelawney
Draco Malfoy
12th October 1998
"Did you find out if anything important happened that day?" Blaise asked, looking at the orb curiously.
Draco clenched his jaw and reached out, brushing his fingers against the small glass. The only people who could touch the prophecies were the subjects of it and the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies, who was currently Kate Evans, one of the women standing next to him. Anyone else who tried to take them would be afflicted with instant madness.
"I read The Daily Prophet every morning that year. I've been going through my memories in my father's Pensieve and that twelfth of October was the first day I really kissed Hermione, when I snuck into her dorm," he whispered, lifting the orb carefully.
The other three wizards surrounded him as the orb grew brighter. The voice of their former Hogwarts professor emerged from the small container, reciting the prophecy they already knew by heart.
Three years after the Dark Lord's defeat, a new evil power will rise... Friends will become enemies, whole families will perish at the hands of those they despised so much... and only they can stop the slaughter... He who will give up everything to be with her and who will confront his own family... Those who hated each other but will soon fall in love... Only together can they stand against the new threat... Pureblood and Mudblood, together will uncover those who want to wipe out what is left of the old families... and prevent a new regime from coming to power... Three years after...
The voice trailed off until it faded away. Draco put the orb back in its place and closed his eyes, placing a hand on the back of his neck and tilting his head until his muscles creaked. His professor's prophecy had given him the creeps ever since he'd heard it the day he met Evans when she'd shown it to him.
"Who decided that this prophecy was about me?" he asked, glancing at the two women.
"As soon as it became public knowledge that you were dating Hermione Granger, the Unspeakables who had heard it decided and that's why I wrote your name down. But I didn't think about it again until I saw you and remembered that there was a prophecy for you around here," Kate replied with an arched eyebrow.
Draco nodded. The first time he'd heard it, it had been him and Kate alone. That night Hermione had to wake him up because he was writhing in the middle of a nightmare.
"But it could be any other couple formed by a pureblood and a Muggleborn," added Mary White, the other woman.
She was thirty-nine years old and had been working there the longest.
"It's a possibility, though you two are the only ones who hated each other from an early age. And, if what you said is true, the day this prophecy was made was the day everything started to change, and you two fell in love soon after. You said it yourself, Draco... the dates match. And you stood up to your father and everyone for her. It's talking about you and Granger," Blaise said, rubbing his chin.
Draco frowned.
"I'm not so sure and we've already heard it dozens of times... but yes, maybe," he admitted under his breath, snorting softly.
"It's October and the third anniversary is in seven months. We still have time to find out what's going to happen and stop the culprits before it's too late," Mary murmured, watching the orb carefully.
"We're still as lost as we were at the beginning. As far as we know, the wizarding world is at peace and there's no one up to no good," Blaise muttered with a straight face.
"Exactly... as far as we know," Draco said, narrowing his eyes.
He was under the impression that the prophecy was talking about the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight', the pureblooded British families who had never mixed with half-bloods or Muggleborns. All that stuff about the old families probably referred to them.
"Do you still think it means the pureblood families?" Blaise asked as if he could read his mind.
Draco nodded.
"The Sacred Twenty-Eight are the oldest families in England, though it could also refer to pureblood families in general. We may all be in danger."
Blaise twisted his lips and looked away, thinking of his siblings. The two women sighed though their faces were calmer. They were half-bloods and therefore had nothing to worry about.
"We'll keep an eye out in case something happens, and we'll meet back here in two weeks to put the ideas we have together. We'll come up with something eventually," Kate said before walking off down one of the corridors.
Mary followed her and the two friends were left alone.
"Do you think we're in danger? Are they coming for us?" Blaise asked in a worried voice.
"It looks like it but I have no idea who they are."
Draco turned on his heel and walked down the corridor he had followed to get there.
"Maybe Granger would think of something."
"You know I can't tell her anything... and besides, it would only make her worry. We have to sort this out ourselves," Draco mumbled in a low voice.
The two of them went through the shelves in silence, checking the thousands of prophecies. Occasionally they picked up the ones that had gone out completely, fading them with a wave of their wands.
Those that had already been fulfilled or had ceased to make sense were extinguished, and any Unspeakable could touch them and make them disappear.
