Hello lovelies! HAPPY NEW YEAR!
If you didn't see the Author's Note I posted a few days ago, I've started re-writing the beginning chapters of the story. The first five are posted over on Archive of Our Own (Ao3). I want to wait until the story is finished before I start meddling and adjusting the chapters on here!
Please leave a review and let me know what you think x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me
"You know, I'm technically older than you now," Draco murmured against Hermione's cheek.
The pair were entangled in her bed. A crisp breeze blew in from the open windows, toying with the sheer mint curtains. Stars glitter in the night sky, moonlight entered the room.
Hermione's eyes widened. "Fuck. You are, aren't you? Well that's no fun."
"Did you like being the older one?" Draco asked. He trailed a finger up her bare side. She shivered involuntarily.
"That's an asinine question when you know the answer," Hermione scowled. She wiggled out of his grasp and rolled out of bed. Draco loudly groaned in protest, hand outstretched towards her.
"Where are you going?"
"To run a bath," Hermione called over her shoulder.
The bathroom was shrouded in darkness, the door ajar. Hermione pushed it open and snapped her fingers with a muttered incantation. Artificial light flooded the room. She'd conjured glowing balls of white, heatless flame and they bobbed about the ceiling.
The white, marble countertops with black sections crackling throughout it on the right-hand side were bare. Devoid of all the products and potions that used to neatly line it. There was a rounded bowl sink in the middle, and a mirror that spanned the length of the wall above it.
In the left-hand corner, out of sight is the toilet. Beside it was her large, luxurious bathtub with an attached showerhead.
The slate grey tiles beneath her bare feet were frigid as she moved over to the tub. A single bottle of vanilla scented soap was on the rim of the tub.
Hermione plugged the drain, and turned on the taps, aiming for a temperature just short of scalding. Draco hated it when the water was that hot, but he always joined her. He grumbled until it reached a reasonable temperature.
Hermione unscrewed the top of the glass bottle and poured it beneath the gush of water flowing from the tap. Suds formed immediately and the delectable scent of vanilla filled the room.
She stared at her engagement ring on her left hand. A hexagonally cut emerald with a trio of smaller obsidian stones on either side. The white gold band looks like woven vines with veins of silver etchings that intricately move across them.
Soft footsteps sounded behind her, and a loving hand stroked the top of her head.
Hermione glanced up at Draco, ignoring his semi-erect cock inches away from her face. She appreciatively stared at his sculpted muscles. Draco was frowning at the water. He bent at the middle and dipped his hands in. He hissed in protest.
"Why do you always have to make it so bloody hot?" Draco whinged.
"It's not that hot. You're just a baby." Hermione scoffed. She stood up, carefully placed the half-full bottle back where she found it, and stepped into the tub one foot at a time. The tub was almost three-quarters full when she turned the water off.
Hermione carefully lowered herself into the tub so as to not splash water all over the floor. Draco had no such qualms. He hissed as he entered, but he sat down opposite her, and water spilled over the sides with a small wave.
Hermione opened her mouth to scold him when he tugged her into his lap. She straddled him and linked her arms behind his neck loosely.
"We're engaged," Hermione said, awe at the concept rising within her. It'd been a couple hours, but it had yet to properly sink in. She languidly stroked the hair at his nape. His hair was longer than she was used to, but he had an appointment with Mipsy's scissors tomorrow.
"That's because you finally said yes," Draco teased, leaning up to nuzzle her jaw with his nose.
"It wasn't the right time before," Hermione grumbled.
Draco tightened his hold on her waist, pulled back and stared intently into her eyes. "How are we going to go about decimating the truth about us? To some, we're the Potter 'twins' after all. To others, we're still Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger."
Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "I have an idea about that. Besides, as long as the people who matter know the truth…I frankly don't care what anyone else thinks."
"Fair," Draco replied.
Hermione's hands slid down to his shoulders and began kneading the stress and knots from his muscles. "We don't have to make a grand return to society if we don't wish to."
"Oh, I have an idea about that as well," Draco grinned.
"Mind sharing?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed.
"Remus told me a couple days ago that a massive Ministry Event is being held on the anniversary of the Battle at Hogwarts. Supposed to be a grand affair. A gala, fundraiser and memorial all rolled into one. Being a war hero, I'm sure you'll garner an invitation."
"And you want to make a spectacular entrance?" Hermione guessed. Draco's hand trailed up her sides and into her hair. His fingers tangled in her curls and he tugged on them enough to draw her head back, but not to hurt her.
"Would you have it any other way?" Draco asked. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her exposed neck.
"No," Hermione said. Her nails scraped against his scalp as she gripped at his locks. "You know, we've never been on a proper, public date before."
"Do you want to go on one?" Draco asked as he licked a trail down to her right breast. His mouth hovered over the pebbled nipple, the heat from his breath sent sparks across her flesh.
"It would be nice to get dressed up and go out, without having to worry about people seeing us," Hermione said. She gasped sharply when he took her nipple into his hot mouth and her head fell back.
Draco pulled back long enough to say, "yea, now you just have to worry about them saying the golden girl is soiling herself with a Death Eater."
Hermione fisted his hair and harshly dragged his head up so he was looking her directly in the eye. "Draco," her tone was heavy with warning.
"I'm not calling myself one. I'm simply stating how a great deal of people see me. It's just the reality of things. We're not in the past anymore Hermione."
Hermione sighed heavily. Her hands released his locks and shifted to tenderly hold his face. "If anyone has a problem with you, then they have a problem with me."
Hermione caught sight of his Sectumsempra scars and an idea formed. Hermione closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration. She honed in on her magical core, as familiar with it as she was the back of her hand.
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Draco asked.
Hermione meticulously began to unanchor the superficial glamour covering her scars. She noted that the ones attached to her hair and eye colour have cemented and integrated themselves into her magical core. Those would be much more difficult to undo, but she doesn't have any intention of doing so.
"Hermione," Draco whispered as he realised what she was doing. She imagined they were beginning to appear one after the other, joining the others she'd gained as Hermione Potter.
Sweat soaked her brow as she finished. She opened her eyes and the golden glow surrounding her subsided. Draco was gazing ruefully down at the scar on her left forearm. "You didn't have to do that."
"It's a part of who I am. Whether you can see it or not doesn't change the fact that it's there. They also don't define me," Hermione said fiercely. Draco gripped her forearm and gingerly rubbed his thumb over the faded, raised letters carved into her flesh.
"Just like your scars and the dark mark don't define you," Hermione said.
Draco nodded. His eyes were downcast. "I haven't been wholly absolved of my sins as a Malfoy."
Hermione's heart ached at his crestfallen expression. At the guilt that reared its head on days when he allowed his thoughts to run rampant and doubt festered. "Sirius mentioned you are relinquishing your title and everything that comes with it."
"When did he have time for that?"
"While we were waiting at St. Mungo's."
Hermione leaned forward and kissed him chastely. "Is it because you don't think you're worthy?"
"No. Not really. I wasn't sure if I was going to do it until I saw that Cissa is pregnant—"
"Cissa is pregnant?!" Hermione exclaimed. It was joyous news and she was a touch miffed that he hadn't shared it with her yet.
"Yes," Draco chuckled. "Either way, their child deserves every right afforded to an heir. They shouldn't be deprived because their older brother is holding onto a title that doesn't belong to him any longer."
Draco's eyes glittered with sapphire. "I have different plans for my future."
"Oh really?" Hermione smiled softly.
"Talk of babies and the future makes me think about our children," Draco murmured.
"We've only just gotten engaged, Draco. I think children can wait for now," Hermione said, pressing her forehead against his.
"If you insist Miss Potter, but that doesn't mean we can't practise in the meantime," Draco said, his hands shifting to her breasts, he rolled her nipples between his fingers and grinned crookedly.
Their bathwater was lukewarm, and Hermione's eyes glowed with copper as she cast a warming charm over it. Draco made a noise of approval. Hermione arched into his touch. Draco grew hard beneath her.
Hermione reached down to grasp his length, grinning when he hissed at the contact. "Practise, you say?"
"Plenty of it, if you're up for it that is."
"Always," Hermione said. She guided the head of his cock between her folds, she rubbed it over her clit, and bucked her hips at the jolt it sent through her with a low whine. Tension was pooling in her abdomen and pleasure coursed through her veins like an addictive drug.
"Hermione," Draco said. Hermione's hand moved Draco's cock until its head pressed at her entrance. Her inner walls squeezed as he entered her slowly, stretching and filling her. His cock was impossibly warm.
"You feel so good, sweetheart," Draco breathed, he lightly twisted her nipples. His mouth fell open when he was fully sheathed within her.
Water droplets clung to his skin, his grey eyes were bright, his face flushed as he pulled out and pushed back into her at a tantalisingly slow pace. He was beautiful and powerful and hers.
Hermione stroked his face. Draco's hands slid down to her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he lifted her up and then snapped his hips upwards.
"So warm, wet and good, you feel so good. You're so beautiful and fuck—"
Hermione rolled her hips, held fast to him and moved up and down, faster and faster. The water sloshed around them, splashing over the side onto the floor. She didn't care.
"You're so good to me, you feel so good, love," Hermione murmured. Their lips were a breath apart, mouths open. Their magic was crackling across their skin.
"Mine," Draco growled, capturing her lips. Hermione squeezed her inner walls as she slammed down on his cock. Draco's talented tongue was battling hers and his kiss was gruff yet unhurried. His thrusts were the opposite, rough and hard, perfectly in time with her hips.
"Yours, always yours," Hermione promised. His thrusts were getting sloppier, her muscles were taut, her entire body tense as her climax built up inside her.
"Come for me, sweetheart. That's my good girl," Draco said, praising her and coaxing her as they neared completion. He groaned loudly in her ear, it sent tingles up her spine. Hermione's magic sang and thrummed within her and his joyously responded as they toppled over the edge together.
With a soft grunt, Draco lowered himself until his back hit the edge of the tub. He stretched out his legs, panting and absently dragging his fingers up and down her skin. Hermione collapsed against him, her hands on his chest.
Draco placed a hand on her lower back, his fingers glowing. The familiar cool sensation coiled in her abdomen; he'd cast the contraceptive spell.
"Do you think our kids will have your hair?" Draco asked after they caught their breath.
"Godric help them if they do, it was a nightmare growing up."
"It's more manageable now, but it's still a wonderful, wild mess," Draco said. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
Hermione tapped his chest, and tilted her head back to look up at him. "I hope they have your eyes," Hermione confessed. She pushed herself up against his chest, legs still trembling. She was sore in all the best ways.
Draco's eyes flicked down to her exposed abdomen—to the large purple scar. It was like a nasty bruise that never healed; it spanned from under the left side of her ribcage down to her pelvis and stretched out to her navel.
"Do you think our glamours will affect our children?" Draco asked quietly.
"You mean if they'll have blond or raven hair?" Hermione asked curiously. Draco's hand was on her abdomen, fingers spread across her scar. Hermione could taste the anger simmering beneath his skin. Draco looked as if he wished to resurrect Dolohov, so he could torture him slowly, before sending him back to the land of the dead.
"Exactly. Do you think Sirius could figure it out? He's the best at Transfiguration after all." Draco said pensively. He traced the edges of her scar absentmindedly. A small part of her had been afraid that he would be disgusted by her blemishes, but he seemed far from it.
"I think there's someone else we can ask," Hermione smiled happily. "As a matter-of-fact, I think it's high time I pay her a visit."
"Hello Minnie," A voice said as they stepped into the Headmistresses office through the fireplace, the green flames chased the girl's ankles.
Minerva watched the blurry reflection of Hermione Potter in the window as the witch approached her. She'd magically allowed her passage, but it was still a shock to see her in the flesh.
"Miss Potter," McGonagall said in greeting. She raised her cup of tea from its saucer and took a delicate sip. It was a robust masala chai with a dash of milk, the spices warmed her insides. "I was wondering when I would see you."
"Draco mentioned that you were trying to take our names off the examinees list, but you are having some trouble locating our records," Hermione said.
Minerva kissed her teeth together and faced her former student. Hermione was dressed in a simple, midnight blue dress with loose, airy sleeves that came in at her wrists, skirts that brushed her bare ankles and a black leather, underbust corset.
Minerva took several steps forward until she reached her desk. She placed her cup and saucer down, and swept down the short staircase into the central part of the room. Hermione awaited her, her gaze drawn upwards, at the portraits that lined the upper part of the stone wall above the Headmistress's desk.
"To answer your question,Albus is the only one who knows where they are, and he has been extraordinarily unhelpful in finding them," Minerva grumbled as she reached the girl.
"As always," Hermione smiled ruefully. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes to slits as she stared at Albus Dumbledore's portrait. The man was snoozing, his shoulders rising and falling naturally with restful sleep.
"They've been fortified and spelled to avoid damage," Minerva said. Hermione raised a brow. "Lest you attempt to set him on fire."
"Tempting, but not the purpose of my visit. I am merely here to see my favourite Professor," Hermione grinned, showcasing her rows of pearly whites.
Minerva shook her head. She took Hermione by surprise as she drew the girl in for a warm embrace. "I have missed you Hermione Potter."
Hermione drew back, gripping Minerva's upper arms above her elbows. A sadness hovered over her, but Minerva saw contentment as well. She wasn't as haunted as she had been in the past.
I hope she has been able to come to peace with some of what troubled her before, Minerva thought remorsefully.
"I'm glad we're able to speak freely now. Without me having to worry about an Unbreakable Vow killing me if I say the wrong thing."
Minerva narrowed her eyes, "why are you here, Hermione? I'm delighted to see you, but visits from Potters in the middle of the night never bodes well."
"I did have a hypothetical question for you, and I wanted to check on our records, but mostly, I simply wished to see you," Hermione said genuinely. Her dark hair caught the orange cast of the candlelight from around the room, and her hazel eyes gleamed.
"A hypothetical question?" Minerva asked.
"We figured Sirius might know, but seeing as you are the one he often harassed whenever he needed a theoretical sounding board…" Hermione trailed off.
"That reminds me. I have a proposition for Mister Black. I'll have to set up a meeting with him soon," Minerva paused thoughtfully, squeezing Hermione's arms. "And Mister Lupin."
"What kind of proposition?" Hermione inquired, curiosity bubbling out of her.
"We can get to that after. Let's hear this question of yours."
"As you know, Draco and I have glamours anchored to our magical cores," Hermione paused and Minerva nodded. "We both removed the ones covering our scars earlier this evening."
"I see," Minerva frowned, eyes flicking down to the girl's forearm. At the unforgivable slur hidden by her sleeves.
"We aren't going to remove the ones that changed our appearances…not sure if we fully could even if we tried."
"Most likely not, they would have become a part of your magical cores at some point. The other ones were merely fastened down, like a veneer hiding something away." Minerva pursed her lips.
I wonder if she wants to find a way to remove the glamours. I doubt it, but it would pose an interesting challenge, Minerva mused.
"Do you think our children will be affected? Like our current hair colour will be passed down to them? Maybe they'll have brown hair like me. Or will they have platinum blond hair like Malfoys always do?" Hermione asked. She didn't seem concerned or perturbed by either concept, just curious. One thing that never changed was the girl's eagerness to learn.
"I must confess I did not think this conversation would turn in the direction of children." Minerva laughed.
"Neither did I, but we do want to start a family one day…" Hermione trailed off, her eyes misted over. Her grip tightened. The ghosts of her past swimming across her features.
"They are still with you my dear," Minerva said, pulling the girl into another hug. Hermione trembled in her arms.
"I wish they could see our children. James would have been the best Uncle," Hermione hiccoughed. "And Lily, she would have adored them, but stopped James from spoiling them rotten."
"I have something for you," Minerva said. It had been a precious keepsake for years, but it only felt right that she bequeath it to Hermione.
Minerva withdrew from Hermione, pulled her wand from her robes and summoned a short stack of letters bound with twine. She slipped the top one out and held it towards Hermione. She spotted the gorgeous ring on Hermione's left hand as the girl accepted it.
"Mister Potter didn't waste any time I see," Minerva noted with a pleased smile.
"I initiated the proposal," Hermione murmured as she fingered the yellowed envelope. Minerva snorted in amusement. Hermione's eyes widened as she recognised the handwriting on the outside.
"There's something inside that I want you to have," Minerva urged gently. As if granted permission, Hermione eagerly turned the envelope over and tugged the enclosed letter and photograph out.
"The letter isn't particularly informative. Lily was careful not to give away too many details regardless of the fact that the letter would have been safe in Dumbledore's hands…the photograph, however, I believe you should have it."
"May I read the letter anyway?" Hermione asked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She was staring at the photograph, clutching it like a beloved treasure.
"Of course."
James, Lily and Harry were sitting on some porch steps. Antlers were sprouting from the crown of baby Harry's head.
"Only Jamie would transfigure antlers onto his son's head," Hermione said. She let out a wet laugh.
James was grinning at the camera, pointing at his son with an air of triumph. Lily shook her head affectionately, trying to hide her own smile. They both leant in and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheeks. The boy gurgled happily, his cheeks pink with joy, and he clapped his hands together.
A large, grey knit blanket was around their shoulders and they were gathered in close, compiling their body heat to combat the cold. From the thick layers they had on, she guessed it had to be during winter.
"Are you sure I can have this?" Hermione asked, tears brimming in her eyes.
"I have other pictures, but I figure that one belongs to you."
Hermione flung herself into Minerva's arms and openly sobbed. She thanked her profusely, burying her face in the elder witch's chest. "This means the world, Minnie. Thank you."
"Ah, I almost forgot," Minerva said. She summoned the two objects she'd been tasked with holding onto for safekeeping. The wood snapped harshly against her palm as she clutched the two wands. Hermione extracted herself and stared in bewilderment at the two wands.
"Are those our old wands?" Hermione asked, mouth agape as she carefully accepted them. Her expression grew pensive, her lips pursed.
"Not quite a proper fit anymore?"
"No," Hermione admitted with a sardonic smile. "I suppose that makes sense. I'm not the same person I used to be."
Honey brown curls and autumnal eyes overtook Minerva's vision for a moment, a shrewd, bossy girl who upheld the rules yet managed to break them spectacularly with her two companions. The framework was there, but the rest of the structure had changed, especially the interior. Miss Granger would always hold a special place of fondness in her heart, but Miss Potter was one of her favourite students she'd been given the privilege of teaching.
"No, you aren't, but that's okay," Minerva said.
Hermione nodded happily at the woman. A contemplative quality overtook her features a moment later. "It is quite late. I should get back."
"Take the letter with you, I've memorised it," Minerva said gently. Hermione's bottom lip wobbled as she held her assortment of gifts to her chest with precious affection.
"Thank you, Minnie."
After the younger witch left, and after the embers in the fireplace died, Albus Dumbledore roused from his 'slumber'. He'd been asleep for the duration of her encounter with Hermione.
"I'm surprised not a single piece of furniture was set ablaze given her track record."
Minerva peered up at the immortalised version of her former scheming colleague. A man she'd admired and relied on throughout the years. She understood his intentions were always in the right place, but the suffering and pain he'd inflicted upon the girl who'd just occupied her office, amongst others, was hard to swallow. She understood, but she didn't like it.
"Some of us manage to miraculously last entire conversations without provoking powerful young witches," Minerva said dryly.
"Your tea is getting cold," Albus observed. His periwinkle robes glittered with the silver embellishments as he shifted in his seat. His house ring caught the candlelight as he gestured towards her abandoned teacup. For an oil painting, his likeness was so lifelike she sometimes forgot that it was a portraiture, and that he was dead.
"I'll pretend your concern for the temperature of my tea is valid," Minerva said. "More importantly, will you finally tell me where their records are? The paperwork needs to be filed with the Ministry in order to have their qualifications updated and accepted, so as to not limit whatever career paths they choose to pursue."
"I wonder," Albus said, eyes twinkling as he dreamily stroked his long, white beard, and ruminated on her request.
"You have meddled with their past enough, I will not tolerate you fucking with their future as well," Minerva bit out coldly. Albus's eyes widened. In all the years they'd known one another, he'd only ever heard her swear twice.
"It was just a bit of fun, Minerva," Albus said, sulking. He turned to the cabinets that lined the far wall, spelled with extension charms and allowed them to house all the records from the inception of the school to the present day. "I would have told you before May."
"Albus."
"There is a hidden compartment in the cabinet on the furthermost left. If you say lemon fizz and tap it with your wand it should open."
Minerva sighed heavily, even from the grave, the man had a way of meddling in current affairs. She inclined her head respectfully.
The records were where he said they would be. She carried them over to her desk, sat down on the edge of her chair and languidly flipped through them. Minerva's eyes widened.
"You already combined them?" The records were separated by years, Hermione's first year in the seventies was followed immediately by her first year in the nineties, and it carried on accordingly until the spring term of her sixth year.
"I didn't get a chance to finish off their sixth years unfortunately, but you and I both know why."
"You never cease to surprise me, Albus," Minerva shook her head. There were letters of recommendation written using each of their names. The letter for Hermione Granger differed immensely from the one for Hermione Potter. The same could be said for Draco. They were glowing reviews regardless of who it was for. Not an ounce of bias or discrimination against the Potters was present.
"The young Potters may not have been fond of me, but I figured it was the least I could do. Besides, Miss Granger was more inclined to Transfiguration, whilst Miss Potter preferred Potions. Draco's interests remained relatively the same academically."
"You even included reports on their Quidditch skills and performances?" Minerva gasped, engrossed in the files. She tried to keep everything as neat as possible as she devoured what she'd found.
"They may be tempted to play professionally," Dumbledore replied. Minerva twisted in her chair, her head tilted upwards as she met his gaze.
"This doesn't change what you did to them," Minerva said quietly.
Dumbledore smiled grimly. "I'm aware, Minerva. But, it's the least I could do for them. I forced them to make a cruel choice in order to ensure our victory."
Tears pricked at the corners of Minerva's eyes. He'd done some questionable things, but at his core he had been a good man.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head. "It doesn't make it better, but as you said, I controlled and messed with their past. The least I can do is give them every opportunity to seize their future. From now on, it's their choice how they wish to live their lives."