I apologise in advance for the length of this one.
I felt like the beginning was missing a scene and proceeded to binge-write the whole interaction between the Slytherin trio lol so you're welcome for the sudden length.
I
May 1997
This had to be one of the worst few days of Draco's life, and that was saying something. Gods, he had never had this much worry for someone before, and that included when he was scared to death that his parents were about to be killed had he not complied with the Dark Lord's demands.
Granger wasn't in mortal peril - that he was aware of - and he was still scared shitless. What little he ate of his food was bland, even when he ate his favourite sweets. Draco was going certifiably insane, and it was all that barmy witch's fault. She made him all moony and pathetic and desperately in love with her, and at this point, Draco was so head-over-heels for her, he was prepared to stay that way for what little of his life he had left to live.
He attended the last few classes of the afternoon because it gave him something else to think about other than his incessant need to find her. At this point, he would barely be able to hold himself back from running to her once she reappeared, no matter who may be watching. And that was a very dangerous thought - a word of their relationship to the Dark Lord and his parents were dead, and her friends and Housemates weren't going to be very happy when they saw a Death Eater snogging their Golden Girl within an inch of her life.
In the Slytherin Common Room for the first time in two days, Draco sat in the window seat, though the view was normally just of the murky waters of the Black Lake, an ominous green light somehow illuminating the waters. Was he truly considering wandering through the Black Lake to see if Granger somehow got herself stuck at the bottom again? He felt confident in his Bubble-Head Charm, though there were all sorts of creatures that may somehow pop the bubble allowing him to breathe. Maybe he could steal - what was it Potter had used? Granger had told him once - the Gillyweed, he was sure Slughorn had restocked what Dobby had stolen for Potter the year before.
"What are you staring out the window like some bird for?" Blaise Zabini chortled from across the room, his arms spread on the back of the sofa he was sitting on.
"Piss off, I'm not in the mood," Draco grumbled, scowling at the glass.
"Don't mind him, he's just contemplating how he wants to off himself," Theodore Nott laughed, bounding into the room, the wall rumbling closed behind him.
"Aw, don't be like that mate, I'm sure there are lots of good things left in your life," Blaise laughed, "there are still several witches in the castle you haven't fucked yet, so cheer up."
"You're a fucking idiot." Draco scowled harder. "Don't you think this year is stressful enough for me without you being a pain?"
That sobered the other two up quickly. Draco caught them in the reflection glaring at the younger students, who swiftly vacated the Common Room. "Look, we're sorry, we're just trying to figure out how we can help," Theo said quietly.
"You want to help?" He sneered. If you want to help, he thought, find Granger.
"We know he didn't ask us," Blaise started, Theo muttering a quiet, "Thank Salazar," that had Blaise slug him in the shoulder. "But if you could just tell us your plan or what you're working on, we can try to help."
Draco finally turned away from the Black Lake, his arms crossed as he stared up at the two who used to be the only people he cared about in Hogwarts. Now, the number has grown to three.
Strange.
"Even if helping means the deaths of several of our fellow students? It doesn't matter what House they're in, the moment- the moment they arrive, there will only be chaos. Younger students could be caught in the crossfire or be trampled. Are you okay with that being on your head?"
Theo and Blaise shared a long look that tested Draco's patience.
"Are you- I know we haven't spoken about your task for months now, but are you sure you still want to go through with it?" Theo asked quietly.
Draco swallowed even as he narrowed his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about. What other choice do I have?"
"Deflecting," Blaise cut in, tilting his head.
"At the beginning of this year, you told us what an honour it was to be chosen for this task. Do you still feel that way? Because if not, you can..." Theodore trailed off, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
"Do what? Let the Dark Lord kill me and everyone I care about?"
"I thought the only people he would kill were you and your parents. Who'd he add to the list?"
"Does he have to add anyone to the list? For fuck's sake, it could be some Hufflepuff He's threatening to kill and I'd still hesitate. Am I that bad of a person you'd think I'm content to let others suffer?" Before he could blink, there were two wands at his throat. "What the fuck?" He complained, every muscle in his body tensing.
"How did I say I broke my arm in our second year?" Theo said, sounding unnervingly serious.
"An at-home Quidditch incident. You had a long and convoluted monologue about a rogue Bludger but no one listened once you got past the first minute of the story-"
"How did I actually break my arm?" Draco's glower was directed toward the memory of the incident.
"That son of a bitch you call a sperm donor pushed you down the stairs because you fucking laughed."
With a nod, both Theo and Blaise put their wands away. "You're still Draco Malfoy, unlovable son of a bitch," Blaise said with a smirk, "so what changed?"
"Who's to say anything changed?" Draco shot back.
Theo rolled his eyes. "It's obvious you've changed, we just want to know why. And how. All the details, really."
He stood up and faced them, Occluding to hide what they were looking for. "How about you just piss off?" Blaise shoved him in the shoulder and he stumbled, nearly falling as the backs of his legs hit the window seat.
"Stop hiding and start talking," the Italian snarled, "we're your friends, dipshit, and hell if there's anyone else for you to talk to about this stuff."
Theo snapped his fingers, eyes wide and excited. "There is!" He yelled excitedly, causing Draco to flinch at both the volume and the revealing of part of a secret. "That's why he won't talk to us- someone else is involved."
Blaise rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. "We know there is, we just need the details. He wouldn't have completely changed his personality and core beliefs unless it was through someone else." He then peered at Draco in a way that felt as if every wall he was hiding behind was stripped away.
"Oh, so now my entire personality has changed?" He went to push past Theo - the physically weaker one of the three - but was shoved unceremoniously back into place. "Let me through, I'm going to the library."
"It probably wouldn't have been a Slytherin," Blaise mused as if Draco hadn't spoken, "given your stance on Mudbloods probably hasn't changed."
Draco fought to keep a straight face, even as every muscle in his body tensed. A gleam in his friend's eye suggested he caught the flash of anger at the term.
"Hm." Theo made a humming noise in the back of his throat. "And from what we've heard, you've been spending most of your time in the library."
"Which means it's someone who would also spend lots of time there." Draco felt very uncomfortable at the sudden smirk across Blaise's face.
"He's been exceptionally testy this past day or two, wouldn't you say?" Blaise asked suddenly, and Draco shifted at the sudden change in topic. Theo also seemed confused, his head whipping around to stare at Blaise with a look of shock.
"Have you completely lost the fucking plot?" Theo asked. "We're talking about You-Know-Poo and his shite of a plan for Draco-"
"You-Know-"
"-that's part of it, Theo, and I think it's all connected." Blaise's grin was unnerving.
"Well, then, yeah, I suppose he's been rather pissy recently, but that's nothing new."
"I forget why I'm friends with you two," Draco muttered, though he said it loud enough both boys heard him, as they simultaneously flipped two fingers at him.
I don't know about you, but I didn't see a specific Mu-" Blaise glanced at Draco's face guiltily before soldiering on, "-uggleborn yesterday, and we all know how cross Draco can be when he can't get something he wants right away."
Theo slowly turned back to face Draco, an eerie grin on his face, and Draco grimaced at the similar expressions on both his friends.
"She has nothing to do with this," he lied unconvincingly because Granger had everything to do with both his change of heart and current mood.
"Au contraire, my friend," Theo said.
Draco sighed. "You're not French-"
"So does she have something to do with this?" Theo asked, stepping closer into Draco's personal space.
"Shove off," he snapped, pushing his friend away by the shoulders.
"Alright, alright, alright, we'll let you stick with your indifference, but the point is, Draco, it doesn't seem like you want to go through with your task anymore." Blaise reached out a comforting hand to put it on Draco's shoulder, and he had to look away so he wouldn't shrug it off.
"What I want doesn't matter," he sneered.
"But it does matter if you can't do it when you have the opportunity to," Theo asked quietly. Draco looked away from their concerned gazes. He didn't know anymore.
Actually, that was a lie he told himself, because the truth was harder.
Draco didn't think he would have been able to kill Albus Dumbledore before he fell in love with Hermione. Now, he could barely stomach just imagining the Headmaster dying through some plan Draco had drawn up.
And he had constant nightmares about what fresh horrors the Death Eaters would bring once he let them into the castle - all the death and chaos that would be because of him.
But Draco was still so, so afraid.
"What will you do now?" Blaise asked.
"What can I do?" Draco let out a hoarse, empty laugh. "I have two choices - kill or be killed. Which would you pick?" It wasn't a real question, and all three of them shared an understanding glance.
"Doesn't Granger give you other options? I doubt she'd let you plot murder without having some sort of opinion on it."
"How do you even know she knows about all this?" Theo waved toward Draco. "She could chalk his moodiness up to being a teenager and a posh git."
Blaise rolled his eyes again. "Because her best friend is Potter, and we all know he's had it out for Draco all year. Normally, his theories are all off the mark, but he nailed you on this one," he added, eyeing Draco. "She's the brightest of our age, or whatever, she probably figured it out immediately."
"Again, Granger has nothing to do with this," Draco lied again unnecessarily, as the other two were giving him an unconvinced frown. "But if she did, it probably would be something unhelpful, like, talk to Dumbledore, or go to the Order for protection." His voice raised to a falsetto to mimic Granger, which only made him more frustrated as he thought about her recent disappearing act.
"What's…" Theo glanced at Blaise first before turning back to Draco. "What's the problem with those actions?"
"You can't just walk up to a man and say hi, I'm supposed to kill you and I've been plotting your murder all year, but I don't want to do that anymore, so can you protect me from the noseless wizard out to kill us both? I doubt he or the Order would be willing to offer my family and me any assistance."
"They're the good guys, they have shite like compassion and forgiveness and whatnot. I'm sure one of them would vouch for you. Other than Granger, of course." Blaise knocked an elbow into Theo's side in jest and winked.
"My mother is currently living in the same house as the Dark Lord, and my father is in Azkaban. How would the Order manage to protect them?"
Theo shook his head. "Dumbledore'll have a plan. He probably already knows about your task and has several strategies depending on what happens. He gives me the creeps, sometimes, with the way that he watches everything with that twinkle that suggests he knows what's about to happen."
"And his hard-on for the Gryffindors," Blaise added, and the two shared a laugh while Draco did his best not to shout at them.
"You do realise this is the man I'm tasked to kill," he said in a deadpan, "this mockery is not making it any easier."
"Look, just listen to Granger-" Blaise raised his eyebrows at Draco's expression, "-and talk to Dumbledore. It'll make her happy, and it's your only option."
Theo cut in. "You said you can either kill or be killed. You know you can't kill old Albus, which means you have to find an escape option or be killed. Personally, I know which choice I'd prefer. So what's stopping you?"
Fear. He knew that's what it was- he'd felt it quite enough over the past day and a half, and he was getting sick and tired of that achy feeling.
Draco jumped to his feet, having heard noises in the corridor. He hoped she had finally arrived, knowing full well she was three hours (and two days) later than their usual nightly dates but also that he'd still wait for her, even if he didn't know when she'd be back. If she'd come back to him. But his heart sank to the bottom of his shoes when he heard McGonagall's voice, the Scottish brogue easy to pick out after all these years under her watchful - if not slightly suspicious - eyes. It seemed she finally had time to leave her chambers.
He'd confront her about answering her gods-damned door the next time a student knocks three times two days in a row, but after hours was not the most opportune time. Neither was it a good time to explain why he had to speak with her so urgently.
He held his breath as he pushed himself further into the shadows, hoping she wouldn't notice the rope to the Restricted Section partially swinging from his mad dash back to his hiding space. The Transfiguration Professor didn't seem to be alone; Draco thought there was a second pair of footsteps and the Professor most likely wasn't talking to herself. But he wasn't able to hear if anyone replied.
"Are you sure you want to come in here, dear?" Professor McGonagall asked kindly. Draco, having rarely heard her speak kindly to him, frowned. Who could she be talking to?
Though it could have been because every thought led to Hermione, especially with how worried he was about her now, Draco crept forward slightly, trying to peer around the shelves and see if the Head of Gryffindor House was talking to the top student. He couldn't see anything, however, and accidentally caught his foot on a chair, biting his tongue to stop from yelling expletives. Of all times for a professor to be lurking around the Restricted Section, considering he and Hermione hadn't had any issues all year.
"I know the library is a bit of a comfort to you, I admit that I like to spend some quiet time in here once all the students are in bed, but wouldn't you feel better if I took you to bed, or woke-" she cut herself off, and Draco felt his curiosity rise in anticipation.
There was no one else in the school who enjoyed the library as much as Hermione, and it sounded like something was wrong. And if something was wrong with Granger, with his Granger, there would be hell to pay. Sucking in the air from their corner like bits of her Gryffindor courage was in the air, Draco slipped over the rope and crept closer to Professor McGonagall.
"Whatever you need, of course, my dear, but you have not had- this has been a- a long and stressful couple of days, and I just don't understand why-"
At first, Draco assumed his Professor was cutting herself off from nonverbal cues he wasn't able to see, but as she continued to bumble her way through her sentences, Draco wondered if she didn't know what to say. She spoke cautiously, and in low tones as if she didn't want to frighten away a fawn. Dread was bubbling in the pit of his stomach. There was a foul tension in the air and he felt sick at thinking who the old bat was talking to because if it was Hermione-
With a quick shake of his head, Draco dispelled the spiralling thoughts before they could pull him into a funk that needed Hermione to haul him out.
There was a breath, a sharp intake of air that he recognized because he'd been sitting by her for hours every day, damn it, and if he hadn't memorised every sound she made by now he wasn't fit to be her... her... whatever he was - though they've had that conversation before for other reasons, more specifically due to the mark on his arm - and now he was almost positive she was with their Professor and that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Without hesitating, without thinking through the consequences of being seen with her so late at night in their spot having clearly been waiting for her which meant they had done this before but that didn't matter because he knew she was not okay right now- he stepped forward out of the shadows with his gaze immediately fastening on her, and then he was in front of her and she was in his arms, shaking like a leaf.
"It's okay, Hermione," he had to duck slightly for his mouth to reach her ear because she was endearingly small compared to him, "I'm here. It's okay, love. You'll be okay. Gods, I thought I'd lost you," he sighed to himself, pressing his mouth against the crown of her head, heedless to the curls that seemed even more unruly. Some strands were straighter, weighted down as if she had tugged on them too long and too hard they stuck in the same position, and the top of her head was fluffed up as if she had run her fingers through the mane several times.
He didn't look at McGonagall, didn't even listen as she stuttered and choked in shock, because his entire focus, his entire being was concentrated on the waif of a girl that was his whole fucking world and currently shivering in his arms. Hermione was gasping heavily now, and he felt his heart stop when he saw the tears on her face. He suddenly understood the phrase "worried sick"; he could feel it choking him and if he hadn't fought to calm himself - for her sake - he would have been hyperventilating just like her.
"Deep breaths with me, deep breaths, it's okay but we can't have you passing out right now," he waited until her breathing had steadied, somewhat, at least to the point where she wasn't in danger of fainting, demonstrating the breaths until together they caught their breath.
"Ah, that's why," he faintly heard McGonagall say after her coughing fit had ceased, but she didn't matter - nothing else mattered - because Hermione was in front of him. And something was upsetting his Hermione.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He asked pathetically, his voice cracking in a way that it hadn't since he was a third-year - or that one time Hermione was acting very forward and he was caught unaware - but he was past the point in caring about appearances. "Are you hurt? Is something bothering you?"
Her only response was to cry in earnest now, large, heaving sobs that shook her entire frame, shoulders hunched and fists clenched against his chest. After a brief moment of his hands fluttering frantically around her, hesitant to touch her in case she didn't want to be touched, he gave up and held her with one hand around her waist and the other stuck in her hair, grasping that spot that connected her head and neck. It seemed she preferred his touch as she leaned further into his chest.
"Ms. G- Hermione, are you sure you wouldn't rather I fetch Mr. Potter or one of the Weasleys?" If Draco was in the proper state of mind to care what McGonagall thought, he would have glared at his Professor for insinuating Hermione didn't know who was comforting her, didn't know who was holding her like there was nothing more precious in the world.
The moronic mates hadn't seemed to notice or care that she was missing, and she hadn't told them where she was going. The female Weasley, maybe, could help Hermione more than the twats, but Draco was the only one who actively looked for Hermione from the moment she went missing until this moment. If she came to the library, had McGonagall lead her to where he waited, then this was where she wanted to be.
"I'm here, love," he repeated into her ear, slightly louder for their nosy audience. If their Professor wanted to pass judgement, fine, let her see why the couple who was never meant to be somehow found each other, somehow loved each other. "I'm right here." Her knees gave out, but she wasn't unconscious because she was still crying, her voice breaking as she began to wail. He fumbled for his wand as he caught her, sinking to his knees so she was curled in his lap.
Before he could find his wand, he felt a buzz in his ears until it cleared, and flicked his gaze briefly to meet McGonagall's in thanks for muffling the library. It was late at night, but they were sitting on the floor in the middle of the library, with his unworthy Death Eater arms wrapped around the brightest, most beautiful, most amazing witch in the world, and she was a mess. There was no way in hell he would let anyone else see her this way, even if Voldemort himself came to pry him away from his witch.
"She wouldn't even let me come with her," Professor McGonagall said softly, and Draco looked up at her, tightening his grip on Hermione as he tried to process what she was trying to say. He hid his surprise well but was inwardly shocked at her appearance. While McGonagall wasn't young by any means, she certainly wouldn't die any time soon, but she seemed to have aged quite a bit in two days. Her normally ramrod-straight, stick-up-the-arse posture was slumped, barely noticeable on any other person but a large neon sign above her head. Her inspection of Draco had calmed and she seemed to watch them with tired and curious eyes, instead of with the previous tension she had carried.
"Come with- what? Where? Is this why I couldn't find her yesterday? Today?" His brain was working on overdrive in the back of his head, though most of his thoughts were still concentrated on her. She choked on another sob and he rubbed her back soothingly, pressing a long kiss to her temple and trying to help her break through the fog she seemed to be stuck in. "Sweetheart, what did you do?" He whispered more to himself than to her, feeling his heart cracking in his chest.
He felt helpless, fuck that, worse than helpless because he didn't know what was going on or how to help. His mind raced in overtime, and he had to bite his lip to stop his self-destructive thoughts from rising up and chastising him for whatever was upsetting his witch. Everything, this whole day, this moment, was all about her, and no matter how much he wanted to tear himself a new one, she was his primary focus, his only concern. He could wallow in self-pity any other day like normal. For now, she had chosen to come to him, to be in his arms, and that was enough for him.
McGonagall nodded, pity clear in her gaze as she looked at her favourite student. "I had to sit by my Floo all day waiting for her, I was so worried," she admitted. "She just now returned. Yesterday was for her to visit with- but today…" Inspecting Hermione carefully and then levelling a hard look at Draco, the Transfiguration Professor swiftly left the library, and Draco couldn't help but gape after her in shock. She had just left two teenagers alone in a room in the middle of the night when she knew first-hand how cruelly Draco had treated the crying witch in his arms in prior years.
"Shh, love," Draco rocked Hermione slowly, struggling to think of what he could do, what he could say. "I talked to Weaselette today, I was so worried about you. In fact, I talked to Potter yesterday, too, so you might have to field a couple of questions from the both of them the next time you see them." He's just whispering random things to her at this point, with no clue what he was saying to her.
The sobbing quieted until Hermione was hiccupping, and he could only faintly make out muttered words thanks to her proximity. "What's that, darling?"
"They don't know," she whispered. He could barely breathe.
Years of elocution lessons and studies vanished in his panic. "Who? Know what?" He let one hand toy with her curls, hoping it would relax her as it had in the past.
She opened her eyes, and while he originally had been afraid of why she had kept them closed, he couldn't contain the noise he made when she looked at him for the first time that day. Her amber eyes were dulled of their normal light, puffy and red, and they held so much pain in them that it struck him like a physical blow and he almost reeled backward from the force.
"Me. They don't- me- I-"
It hit him, then. The pieces that had been dropped, clues that had been handed to him - the paper, going to Dumbledore, going somewhere by the private Floo in McGonagall's office. They had talked about what they would do if the war hit them, the possibilities if he somehow survived his mission and could run from the Dark Lord. Or if he survived but couldn't run.
Her plans, on the other hand, were to-
He gasped, holding her tighter. She was clenching his shirt in her fists, pulling her towards him like he was all she had left. He didn't even care that she was wrinkling his shirt, he'd learn how to use a Muggle iron and fix it without magic if that was what it would take to make her feel better.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry," he breathed into her hair. "You are so strong and I'm so sorry it came to this." Her pain was bringing him to tears as well, and they mourned her loss together. He could feel the sting of her nails digging into his chest, even through his Oxford shirt.
"They don't remember me, Draco," she said in a cry, and he felt a pang in his chest. On the one hand, she said his name, which meant she clearly knew who she was holding and that she had gone out of her way to seek him out when she could have picked one or all of her best friends. Salazar knows they'd be here for her in a heartbeat if they knew what she had just done. On the other hand, now was not the time to focus on his jealousy and pride because the love of his life, his whole fucking world, the keeper of his black, selfish heart, was in so much pain she was drowning in it.
Gods, it took all the strength he had to push past his selfish nature that wanted to preen in front of her, to show off he was who she had chosen for now. But that would be neither appropriate nor appreciated, and the longer she sat in his lap and bawled, bright red spots on her cheekbones glistening with her tears, the easier it was for him to focus on something other than himself.
"I'm so sorry you had to do it," he choked out past the lump in his throat that grew with every one of her tremors, "why didn't you take me- why didn't you take anyone with you?" She was so strong, this witch, but she could have taken someone to lean on because she clearly needed it-
But maybe that was why she was here, now. As independent as she was, he should have expected she would go alone to do what needed to be done and then come back for comfort. And if that was the sole reason he was alive, he could provide the comfort she needed.
She shook her head, sticking her face into his neck so he could hold her properly. "I couldn't. It was selfish of me, I know, but I wanted time with them by myself."
"Selfish of you?" Draco didn't even know what to say. He was the selfish one of their- their relationship. "You- you did that to protect- how could that possibly be selfish? That's not- they're your parents, Hermione, and no one can say that it was selfish to want them to yourself for a day. Especially with- well, with how you are protecting them."
She shook her head against his chest. "But that's just it- I'm being selfish. I stole their memories, Draco, and I don't even know if it will be possible to get them back."
He gathered her hands in his, pulling back so he could look her in the eyes. "I swear to you, Hermione," he said without pausing, without thinking, "I swear on every fibre of my being, on- on my magic- I will do all I can to fix this once the war is over." He may have accidentally created something along the lines of an Unbreakable Vow or it could just be the full force of what he promised sinking in, but he thought he felt something heavy and insistent pressing against his chest. No matter what the cause, he would do anything in his power to bring her parent's memories back, to bring her parents back to her.
"I love you, I'm so sorry," Draco said in a steady mantra, repeating the two phrases as he tucked Hermione back against his chest and rocked her, occasionally kissing her cheek or temple.
He didn't know how long she was gone, but McGonagall reappeared before him, a small vial in her hands.
"I have some Dreamless Sleep, my dear, and I think it would be best if you take some and go to bed. I'll send a note to Poppy about getting you a supply to last this week."
Hermione shook her head forcefully, clutching him tighter.
"I'm not going anywhere, Granger," he said quietly, "I'll be right here with you, whenever you need me. No matter what, I promise. I thought I had lost you, and it nearly crushed me, and you were only gone for two days. You'll never lose me, I swear it. But Professor McGonagall is right, you need to rest."
"Don't promise that," Hermione's voice sounded deadened from the tears and her pain. "You can't guarantee you'll always be here, you're on the opposite side of the war, for fuck's sake." Ignoring McGonagall's surprise and how she pointedly cleared her throat, Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
"Tomorrow, let's-" He opened his eyes and looked up to meet the flinty gaze of his Professor. "I would like to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore tomorrow." The library went dead silent as both witches processed his statement, Hermione a fraction of a moment quicker.
She looked at him, studying him for sincerity, the golden flecks in her eyes finally reappearing as the tears began to dry. "No, Draco, no, you don't have to. Not because of this. I- I didn't mean it, I know what He would do to your parents and now- I understand, so you don't-" She was gasping furiously as he cut her off with soft shushes, and her frame rattled as she shook. She felt so fragile, so small in his arms, and now she was practically convulsing as she tried to placate him-
Draco wiped the last tear from her cheek, unable to resist leaning forward and giving her a soft kiss. His heart hurt as he thought about what the Dark Lord would do to his parents at his treachery but he pushed it aside, feeling lighter as he grew more determined in his decision. They would survive, they had to, they were Malfoys. But he wasn't sure how he would live - if he could - if this witch beside him was killed, or worse. He knew what they would do to her, how they would make her an example to Muggleborns everywhere. No, he'd let his parents fend for themselves. He refused to gamble with Hermione's life on the chance he could escape the Dark Lord's wrath, on the chance she wasn't caught and tortured and killed.
He had been thinking about his situation for a while, especially over the past day when he had sat and waited in the library all afternoon and all night, and his decision wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was a choice no one - save Hermione - expected, including himself. He only hoped the Headmaster could protect his mother as well.
"This is exactly why I have to do this," he said to her. "Because I know I'm on the wrong side of the war, I've known since they made me take the mark-" McGonagall gasped in outrage at this, but whether it was directed towards him or his Master he didn't know. "-but now I've found the courage, the will to make a choice. In order to be a better man for you, to be a better man for me, I need to do this. And- and you're hurting and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. The D- V- Voldemort has to be stopped, so we can find your parents, so we can get married and have loads and loads of children and send them to Hogwarts where they'll all be sorted into Slytherin and annoy the fuck out of McGonagall for putting up with Slytherins that are half me and half you." Hermione huffed in the way that meant she was hiding a laugh, and Draco felt like he could have soared through the clouds without a broom; like everything would be okay because she was feeling the tiniest bit better.
"I love you, Granger."
"I love you too, Malfoy." She kissed him firmly and then slumped into his embrace - ending their kiss sooner than he would prefer, but they did have a Professor noticeably staring at every move they made.
"Professor McGonagall can lead you back to your dormitory so you can take the Dreamless Sleep. I'll see you in the morning, okay? Send me a note if you need anything."
She bit her lip, looking simultaneously adorable and distraught at the same time. "I need you to carry me up to the tower, please?" He sighed as if it were a hassle but he had already stood and tugged her up with him, hoisting her into the air and exiting the library, trusting that McGonagall would follow them.
She did, and she made her humour clear when he struggled slightly with carrying someone up moving staircases.
"This is where we have to part ways, for tonight," Draco set Hermione down in front of the Fat Lady, who was thoroughly miffed at being awoken so late. He shot a glare at the woman in the frame for denying him access to check on his witch earlier, and by the widening of her eyes and subsequent gasping, it seemed she remembered. Hermione gently cupped his cheek, giving him a kiss in thanks, drawing his gaze back to her and searching for something in his eyes.
"I need you to be safe, Draco. You can't switch sides willy-nilly just for me, you could get into serious trouble with-"
"I know. But I promised you I'd stay safe, remember? That I'd stay alive and find you after the war. And what did I tell you?"
A small smile bloomed on her lips, and he felt his heart start again now that he finally had a sign she'd be okay. "You said that even if I hated you, you'd find me, so the only person I can blame for that is myself."
"I also said don't shoot off any hexes at me, witch," he winked, and her smile grew the slightest bit, just enough for his worries to calm a tad.
"You mean it?" She asked, hope growing in her tone, "you'll speak to Dumbledore tomorrow?" He turned his head so he could kiss her palm.
"I'd do whatever you want, love. Just say the word." With one more glance and then a firm nod, Hermione took a step towards the Portrait Hole where McGonagall waited patiently.
"The same goes for you, you know," she added, turning over her shoulder, "I love you."
"I love you too. I'll see you tomorrow."
It would be a tough few weeks, maybe even a few months, and maybe this would never fully go away. But he believed that she would recover, that she would learn how to depend on those around her while she gathered her strength and then threw her whole self into defeating Voldemort before curing her parents. And he knew he would always be there for her because he loved her and she loved him and nothing, nothing would stop Hermione Fucking Granger from starting a life with him (so long as she wanted it as well).
II
April 1997
Dating Granger - if that was what they were calling it, so far the extent of their relationship was the original "I love yous" and some snogging in the stacks - was the fucking best. He loved her. She loved him. It felt even better than a dream because this was real and it was happening. To him, of all people.
Of course, it came with its ups and downs - he certainly enjoyed being able to tug her into a broom closet or find himself yanked around a corner for an impromptu snogging session, and now they weren't just studying at nights anymore, they were talking and laughing and being… what Draco wanted normal to feel like. But there were also the nights he managed to fall asleep and dream she'd leave him, that he'd follow through with his task and drive her away, or even, on the worst nights, he'd inadvertently kill her. Whether by his hands or a culmination of his actions that led to her demise, he wouldn't be able to get the shocked look contorting her face out of his mind for the next few days.
Nights like that originally had him running back to the Restricted Section, mostly so he could escape his dreams and because the musty air still held the slightest trace of her jasmine soap, and he could pretend she was there, just collecting another book for their study session. A few days after the first nightmare, Crookshanks was waiting for him when he charged into the library for another night's respite.
"What do you want?" He hadn't even had the energy to be his normal surly self with the beast. Crooks purred, its eyes narrowed into slits as it inspected Draco from top to bottom. Draco crossed his arms, frowning in confusion when the creature delicately leaped off the table it was sitting on to wind around his ankles, purring loudly, what Draco could have sworn was concern in its bulbous eyes.
"You better not be worried about me," Draco said, his words harsh but tone gentle, "I'm just fine." But it did ground him a little more to the moment, and he was rather grateful. Not that he could admit that to the devil spawn.
"You're just trying to get cat hair on my pyjamas," he accused after a beat, glaring at the monstrous clumps of orange fur that he knew from experience would somehow never disappear.
The next few nights were the same - he'd wake up and sprint to his ensuite loo to vomit before brushing his teeth and heading toward the library, where Crookshanks would inevitably be waiting for him.
One night, however, Crookshanks wasn't there. Draco even sacrificed some of his dignity to whisper, "Crookshanks, Crookshanks," in the darkness only marginally lit by his wand and hope his witch's familiar would appear.
After spending several minutes feeling very foolish, Draco made his way to his usual aisle and collapsed in one of the chairs, tilting it back so it leaned against the shelf, and closed his eyes for what he swore was just a brief moment.
He awoke with a start with a light shining on his face, and he almost fell out of his chair, assuming it was a rogue Professor who - finally - caught him. But then she lowered her wand, his name falling from her lips in a worried tone, and Granger was there, Crookshanks padding beside her, somehow managing to convey a concerned expression on the squashed face.
"Draco?" She yawned and he, without a thought, reached out, tugging her so she was perched on his thighs and leaning against his chest. Hermione twisted in his hold to face him, peering closely. "What are you doing up? I thought you went to bed when we left earlier. What's wrong?"
He gave a half-shrug. "Just the nightmares again."
She frowned. "Still? Why didn't you tell me? We could have gone to Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep-"
"I have a feeling these nightmares aren't going to go away anytime soon, and I know Dreamless Sleep has some addictive qualities to it. I'd rather not add another thing to worry about to my plate."
She poked under his eye gently as if she could glean some sort of information from the density of his eyebags. He caught her finger, pressing a kiss to the tip of it that resulted in a deep blush from her.
"Still, I thought you had been sleeping more consistently." Draco kissed her, hoping that would remove the worry from her voice.
"Stop fretting about it," he said soothingly, and she rolled her eyes.
"Why are you consoling me when I'm here to do that for you?" Hermione grumbled under her breath. "You'd think you of all people would want me to fuss over you."
"Fussing and fretting are two very different things," he said smoothly, prompting another eye roll.
"I'm pretty sure they're synonyms, Draco," she said in that know-it-all tone that used to make his teeth grind together but now only make him reflect on how much love he had for this witch.
"Not to be rude, but why are you here?"
She smoothed down the hair on the side of his head that was sticking up from all the thrashing he had done earlier that night. She looked amused as she straightened the clump, cataloguing the pre-morning routine Draco that wasn't as flawless as he liked to show.
"Crookshanks yanked off all the covers, and I was so cold, I woke up," she explained, leaning over him slightly to pet Crookshanks, who had planted itself by Draco's leg, staring up at them both and hardly blinking.
"That's… I believe that's the first nice thing he's done for me," Draco said, shocked, and he glanced at Hermione to see a smile on her face. Maybe there was hope for him after all.
"Well, we're both up," she finally broke the silence a little while later, "I've got an idea of what we can do while we wait for the sun to rise."
Draco groaned, throwing his head back and wincing as it came into contact with the shelf behind him, "I have a very pleasurable idea, but I have a sinking suspicion that your scheme is a little more academic in nature."
She beamed, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek.
"I don't suppose you'd want to study now? I think I could find something to do while you review your Transfiguration notes. It shouldn't take you that long to summon, and I want to look over them and make sure you're taking notes the proper way-"
"I don't carry around those tabs you're so fond of, nor do I use… what was it?... your highlighter." Hermione pinched his side and he yelped, straightening the chair and almost throwing them both off it. Crookshanks darted away from the chair, having almost been crushed by one of the legs, giving Draco a reproachful look. Draco let go of Hermione's waist long enough to give it the finger.
"So I'll be studying and you'll be… doing what, exactly?" Draco scowled at her. "Come to think of it, you've just been reading while you made me study. What's that all about? I thought you offered to help me study."
"Yes, but then we started dating and I felt like I no longer needed a pretense to be around you. You have the mental ability to study without my help, thank the gods," she added as an afterthought.
"You mean to say you only offered to assist my education as a way to seduce me?" Hermione turned a brilliant red, shoving him slightly in the chest.
"Don't say it like that," she hissed.
"Then what about Snape's class?" Draco asked. "Weren't you trying to catch up in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Granger gave him a look that suggested he was thick. "Draco… for seven months?"
Maybe he was rather dim.
"Then what have you been doing for the past several months?"
"Mostly homework, though sometimes I have been trying to find some extra material for a few classes. Nothing too extensive, small things that you wouldn't notice. Though one time, I did find a book I had to shout the questions I was researching for it to flip to the correct pages, and I can't believe you didn't notice that."
He couldn't get rid of the flabbergasted look on his face.
"This whole time, I had been too blind to see that you were trying to get into my trousers," he said mournfully, and Granger scoffed, shoving him a little harder.
"It wasn't like that, you prat," she groaned, "I was just looking for excuses to spend time around you. Time, Draco, not sex!"
"Yes, love, time," he echoed mournfully, "all this time wasted because I couldn't see that you were throwing yourself at me."
"You little shit!"
a/n: so that's pretty much it! I do have an epilogue planned for the very next day, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to combine it with this one or leave it as its own separate chapter, but I felt like this whole thing hits differently; it doesn't need anything else to make it good (to me lol)
There's a possibility I'd use the library scene (or one similar to it/same vibes) in another story, but for now, I'm content with what I have here.
Next update: 7/17
- Meg