Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It and any characters from the franchise that may appear in this fanfiction are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made from this story.

Author's note: Thank you for the reviews and follows since I've uploaded the prologue :)

Draco blinked as he saw an orb of green magic stop right in front of his face for a split second, right before everyone around him started to move backwards, the green light slithering back into snakeface's wand. Well, that had been close. He kept sitting on the floor and observed his surroundings for a few minutes and noticed how the golden trio had been brought in by the snatchers, Potter's face even more swollen than when he'd been called in to come and identify them.

Suddenly, a silver hue opened the doors of the drawing room and a woman who was almost two meters tall stepped through. Her beauty reminded Draco of that of a veela, but she was more ethereal, god-like almost.

"Why thank you, little dragon," she smiled as she came closer. "I thought now was a good time to introduce myself to you properly, Draco," she said as she crouched down to get down to his height. "As you know my spirit has been protecting the Malfoy family for over 900 years, ever since your ancestor Armand Malfoy established the manor here in Wiltshire. You may call me Deandra, as your ancestors have done before you."

She offered him her hand to shake. He stared at her hand for a second. He knew this was not just a simple introduction. This was also an agreement. Shaking that hand would mean that they would work together, that they would accept each other as protectors of the Malfoy family. That they would stand for the Malfoy motto. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity Will Always Conquer. His father would have a laugh at him if he ever dared to mention that the founder of the family hadn't meant it as being pureblooded. Draco shook Deandra's hand, and her silver glow spread from his hand to the rest of his body, settling the deal as they smiled at each other.

"Now that has been settled," she began as she pulled him up to a standing position, "we should start preparing for what to do when this timestream has been reverted back to your first year at Hogwarts. We have much to discuss, my child."

She waved her hands and the doors of the drawing room opened. "It would be best to relocate to your bedroom as that room has been mostly vacant during your Hogwarts Years. According to my estimations, we will be in this timestream for about a month or two."

Draco swallowed. A month or two? He hadn't prepared for that possibility. Would he be able to survive without any food or water?

"Not to worry," Deandra said as her silver glow bounced off of the manor walls as they made their way upstairs. "As long as I am with you, my magic will sustain you. You will have no issues with your mortal needs. Which honestly, is for the best. What you are attempting to do here is unheard of. Even if it is the right thing to do." She smiled at him and looked pleased as she opened the door of his bedroom for him, leading him inside. "Because of the magical reserves both you and me put into the time-turner, there is a good chance that your body will start de-aging until you are your 11 year old self again. I hope this will lead to the desired outcome, instead of you having to convince 11-year old you to make the necessary changes."

Draco thought that was probably for the best. Bloody hell, he was a git at that age. He still was. But at least now he'd experienced things… Seen the war, seen what it could do to everyone.

As Draco laid down on his bed, his arms behind his head, Deandra sat down into the chair at his desk. "First things first," he told her. "What the bloody hell just happened that the house elves call Granger my beloved? Their mistress. I don't remember any of that. I remember being friends with her, but it's honestly all just jumbled in my head still. I can't find the beginning or the end."

"Language," the spirit of the manor scolded him. She crossed her ankles and laid her hands upon her knees, before she continued. "I would also like to know why miss Granger was bound to our family so closely that both me and the house elves recognized her as the mistress of the manor, instead of your mother. However, it seems some memories are locked away better than others, the ones with the most significance. The ones that she-"

Draco interrupted her. "The ones that she wanted to hide from Voldemort the most. Merlin, couldn't she just have trusted my occlumency skills?" he barked at the ceiling of his bedroom.

Deandra sighed.

"Of course not, she had to be sure. To protect me. Stupid bloody Gryffindor," he mumbled.

"Let's start from the beginning," Deandra said. "The first memory she tried to protect the most. We will go from there. Close your eyes, little dragon. Together we will find the truth."

Draco did as he was told. Somehow the spirit felt like a warm comfortable blanket around him. He hadn't felt this safe since… Well, ever. Why had his father and grandfather not believed in the spirit the manor was strengthened by? It would've done the Malfoy name so much good with a power like this on their side for the past 100 years, instead of the vile magic used by Voldemort.

"Now lower your occlumency walls. Let's see what miss Granger, and you, have been trying to hide."

Third year, Hogwarts grounds

Draco blinked. Wait. This wasn't like looking into a pensieve. This wasn't like observing a memory with legilimency. This was actually reliving it. He knew, because he heard Granger yell at him, her anger and magic making her hair even more frizzy.

"You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!," she yelled, right before she punched him square in the face, his head cracking against the stone behind him. He could hear Deandra giggle in the back of his mind.

"Feisty, isn't she," the spirit admired. "Like all mistresses of the manor before her, she does not let others walk over her so easily. Not even you."

Draco grunted. "And exactly why am I reliving this memory? I hadn't forgotten about her punching me in the face. My ego was bruised for months after that. Do you have any idea how much the other Slytherins scoffed at me and laughed at my expense? Beaten up by a mudblood."

"Now, now, no need to use that foul language. Let's just see what happens. I asked you to go back to beginning, so there is something here that she's hidden," Deandra answered.

Draco was holding his nose and walked off with Crabbe and Goyle, like he did the first time around. "Go ahead to the infirmary so Madam Pomfrey can fix my nose," he said, waving them off. The two bullies did as they were told and hurried away as Draco squinted and kept holding his nose. He turned around for a second and looked back down at the golden trio who were now cuddling up together, watching as that stupid hippogriff was going to be killed. Well, wasn't. He knew the damn thing had survived. Good it did. Merlin he'd been a real brat for wanting it to be killed.

Then suddenly, he saw her. She was standing right there, with Potter. Her clothes were the same, but they were a mess. Bloody, muddy, all ripped up. What had happened to her? And why was she in two places at once? Right. The time turner. At that point in time he had blamed seeing double on his nose being broken and having a possible concussion after Granger had smacked his head into the stone behind him. Now, he knew that she had actually been there.

As he stood there staring at her and Potter, wondering what she'd gone through, the memory shifted.

Fourth Year, The Yule Ball

Pansy Parkinson trying to kiss him had not been his idea of a nice memory. He recognized immediately that they were in the Great Hall, the Yule Ball nearing its end. He remembered this. He'd seen Granger and Weasley argue and then ran after her to taunt her some more. Instead, he'd left. What had she hidden here?

He shrugged Pansy off of him as he ran in the direction of Hermione and the idiotic duo. Weasley was already turning a darker shade of red and yelling profanities at her, accusing her of fraternizing with the enemy. Well. If only he knew what the future would bring. Draco Malfoy was surely higher on the list of potential enemies than Viktor Krum. Speaking of Krum, where was he even. Did he think it appropriate to leave his date at a ball so she could get yelled at? Honestly, he could strangle the redhead for yelling at Hermione in his fit of jealousy. In front of other people even. That boy had no tact. Looking at his upbringing no one would ever think him and his family were part of the sacred twenty-eight.

By the point he had reached the yelling contest, Hermione had disappeared and now Potter was arguing with Weasley about the treatment of their best friend. Good. Potter had always been a better friend to her. What did she say about him? That he was like her brother in all but blood. He hoped that when he went back, that bond between them would never get lost. Speaking of bonds, that was exactly what he was trying to figure out. How in Merlin's name they got bonded together.

As he left the Great Hall he ran up the staircases to the nearest classrooms. If he remembered correctly, this was where he'd found her the first time. One of the doors was slightly ajar, and he could see a flicker of Hermione's periwinkle blue dress through the cracks. He swallowed. He was not looking forward to this, to come in looking at her menacingly, not now he remembered how their friendship had blossomed. What he did remember of this day was that he'd left right after he entered, so surely, she wouldn't even notice him coming in.

Oh boy. Was he mistaken.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped at him as he opened the door, refusing to look at him. How had she even known it was him and not Potter or the Weasel? Wait. That didn't happen the first time, did it? He'd left without her noticing, unless…

"She removed it from your mind," Deandra agreed.

Draco's mouth moved on its own accord. This was still a memory after all. It had to be played out exactly as it went in the original timeline, before she had obliviated him. "Well I thought I would come and look at Weasley's good work of putting you in your place, mudblood. Perhaps the bloodtraitor has some refining qualities after all." He mentally cringed at himself. Why had he been such an asshole?

She laughed at him, laughed. What an unusual response. Maybe Granger had been drinking too much of the spiked butterbeer. "You know, insults from hateful gits don't hurt as much as the ones who you consider to be your friend, Draco," she answered. He never thought he'd hear his name come out of her mouth with so much venom laced on it.

"How did you know it was me anyway?" he drawled. "Keeping an eye on me, are you Granger?"

"I always know when it is you," she whispered, clearly not realizing what she had said in her distressed state of mind.

"Wait what?" Draco asked Deandra, "Did she just say she always knows it's me? What is that supposed to mean".

Deandra shrugged in his mind as even the spirit seemed to be unsure. "Perhaps it is the lingering bond between the two Malfoy lines. She is the descendant of Armand's adopted daughter after all. She seems to be specifically attuned to your magic on some sort of level."

Draco waltzed over to her and sat down next to her. "What do you mean you always know it is me, Granger? Are you creepingly looking at me or what? Dreaming of what you could never have?"

She looked up at him and scoffed. "I could get way better than the likes of you. If anything, it is you who always seeks me out, just as you are doing now. One would think it is you who can't help but keep his eyes on the things he isn't allowed to touch."

The little witch had a point there. How often had he caught himself over the years looking at her, finding her in a crowd and felt loathing. But he wasn't sure anymore if it was loathing at who she was, or if he was loathing something else entirely.

"Astute observation, miss Granger," Draco admitted to the horror of both himself and Hermione. "Perhaps a secret little mudblood to hide from my daddy is all I've wanted in this life," he answered sarcastically.

She laughed again, a hearty laugh this time. And he felt himself laughing with her. It felt good. He was just unsure if these were his feelings, or if he had actually felt like this back when it actually happened.

"If you weren't such a bloody git, I think we might've actually ended up being friends," she admitted. "We are the top students in our year, never back down from a challenge, and we always strive for the best. We could've been quite the invincible pair."

"Malfoys always strive for the best," he answered, enjoying her company. He'd never thought about it before, but they were compatible. He could see how their friendship had blossomed over the years when she put it like that.

"Shame I'm not a Malfoy," she sighed. "Life might've been easier growing up with other children like me…" she mumbled. He faintly remembered another memory. Where she'd told him what life had been like as a bucktoothed frizzy-haired bookworm who always had weird things happening around her. How she'd had no friends before Hogwarts, and how she sometimes still felt that they might leave her. The incidents of Harry's broom and the boys ignoring her was one such example. The Yule Ball and Weasley's foul language definitely another.

"If you were a Malfoy," Draco drawled. "You would be able to stomp down on that poor-mannered weasel. No one would dare to offend you if you were the mistress of Malfoy manor. Anyone who got in my mother's bad graces by insulting her has severely regretted it."

Silence ensued as both teenagers thought on what he'd just said. "Don't let him get to you," he whispered. "He's not worth it. He's not worthy of you."

He adjusted his robes, feeling more than a little awkward, as he got up and walked away from Hermione. What had prompted him that day to actually attempt to be somewhat supportive of Granger that day? Did he drink too much of the spiked butterbeer without noticing? With his back turned to her, he suddenly noticed what she'd meant. Maybe it wasn't her frizzy hair and know-it-all attitude that made her stand out to him. Maybe it was her vibrant magical signature. He would recognize that anywhere.

"Thank you, Draco," she said right before he reached the door. "Maybe I will take a page out of Mrs. Malfoy book one day.

The summer after sixth year, Hermione's backyard.

He knew that feeling of being sucked through a tube. Apparition might be the fastest way of transportation, but it was definitely uncomfortable when reliving it in a memory. As soon as he arrived at his destination, his breath hitched in his throat as he came face to face with an angry Hermione, her wand pointed straight at him and her hair even frizzier than usual, sparking with her magic.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed at him, not lowering her wand. "Especially dressed like that. When the wards let me know someone came through the apparition point, I wasn't expecting this. You are lucky I knew it was you, I might've hexed you on the spot."

Draco mentally made a note of his surroundings. They were standing in what seemed to be a garden. Behind the brunette witch there was a row of old townhouses, the one connected to this garden having a small light on inside. It all looked so muggle. This must be where she lived. It was completely dark outside except for the moonlight shining on Hermione's face, a silver hue around her reminding him of Deandra.

"Mione, love," he began. Love? Deandra smiled. "I'm sorry I had to show up like this, but I had to warn you."

He took off the death eather's mask and pulled a hand through his pale blond hair, letting out a deep sigh. "They are planning to come for you and your parents." He took a step closer to her, she still wasn't lowering her wand but her gaze seemed more friendly now. "I am supposed to be on a scouting mission. If the band of bumbling baboons new that I don't even need to breach these wards to get in, they would've been here already."

Hermione looked fearful now. "They are coming for my mother and father?"

"Yes, love. I don't know when, but soon. You know what this means…" he whispered as he finally reached her, putting his hand onto the one holding her wand. "When were you planning on leaving for the Burrow?"

The Burrow? How had he known this much of her life? And Why did he keep calling her "love"? He was pretty sure that Potter and Weasley never referred to her as such.

"Next week," she stammered. "But-"

"You should leave tomorrow," he stated. "It might be your only chance to save them."

The two just stared at each other until Hermione nodded and lowered her wand to put it back into her wand holster. "I missed you," she whispered as she stepped closer and hugged him.

To Draco's surprise, his old self pulled her closer to him, his hand at the back of her head as he leant his cheek down on top of it, breathing in her familiar scent, the grapefruit and apple perfume she always wore.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled sadly. "What if I can't bring them back?" she whispered. "What if I can't bring you back if all of this is over?".

Oh. Bloody great. Not only had she obliviated him, apparently they had had this conversation before and he had fucking agreed to her obliviating him. What had he been thinking?

He chuckled as he put one of her curls behind her ear. This was flirty behaviour, not friendly behaviour… Oh Merlin. Granger was hiding way more than their friendship, the time turner or any bonding, wasn't she?

"It will be alright," he told her. "You are after all the brightest witch of our age. You little swot."

She laughed and punched him playfully in the arm, but he could still see the sadness in her eyes. "You won't be alone in this," he said. "I promise you. I am not leaving you alone with those two idiots you call friends."

"Draco, really. If you actually decide on helping the Light, then perhaps you should start referring to Harry and Ron as-"

He held up his hand at her, chuckling and trying to stop her rant. "I know, Mione. I know. And I'm not on anyone's side but yours. I thought you knew that by now. I just love it when you get all…"

"All what?" she asked, defiant, shrugging herself out of his arms and crossing her own. He knew that look on her, the one where she made clear that no one would be messing with her.

"All Frustrated. Passionate. All you," he admitted before leaning down and kissing her on top of the head, making her slowly relax again. "I didn't just come to warn you. I found something in the manor's library a few months ago, and I thought it might help you in your quest to hunt- Well."

Horcruxes. He remembered now. She had been hunting horcruxes. "Merlin," Deandra said. "He made seven? No wonder he is so unhinged. Horcruxes are an atrocity of magic."

Draco's past self retrieved a small trinket out of an inner pocket of his black death eater robes and handed it to her. "My mother's great aunt, Cassiopeia Black, she grew up in the townhouse in London. The one that Potter inherited from his godfather," he began. Well, apparently there was still some bitterness left in him on not being named Lord Black as the closest living male heir. "She dabbled in a lot of blood magic and was almost blasted off of the family tree for having a child out of wedlock," he grimaced. "To protect the child from harm of any member of the Black family, she put her blood and part of her magic in a bracelet riddled with runes and made the child wear it. No one ever did hurt the child, but she assumed that the blood magic would protect her child no matter what. Would save it if need be."

Hermione was now looking down at the trinket in her hands. It was a small ankle bracelet set in gold, with one ruby charm clasped onto it. "Thought you would appreciate the Gryffindor colours," Draco smirked as he watched her admire it.

"That's obviously my blood in there," Draco said to Deandra. "Why did it not protect her?"

"Didn't it?" she asked. "It brought me to you, and in turn, you were able to remember and use the time turner. It might not have worked as intended, but it is a way to save her."

"The runes on this are very complicated," Hermione said as she watched the ruby, interrupting his inner conversation. "Draco, if anyone finds out about the blood magic that you've put into this, then-"

"No one will know," he stated. "You will make sure of that. Just promise me you will wear it all the time. It's an ankle bracelet. No one will look for any protective charms there, it is too muggle. In case something goes wrong and you end up at the manor, or you run into my father or aunt Bellatrix, I am hoping it will protect you…" he said.

Tears filled her eyes, thankful for his precious and thoughtful gift. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Draco looked at her and wished this was real. Wished he'd not forgotten this. In his musing, he didn't realize that past him had now clasped his hand around hers and had started speaking. "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, hereby swear on my life and my magic, that I will do anything to save and protect Hermione Jean Granger from harm, even from those of my blood. And if I were unable to come to her aid, my blood and magic will protect her through this vow, so mote it be."

Magic swirled around them as Hermione looked up at him in surprise, understanding the gravity of his words. "Draco, you can't," she said "It might kill you."

"I know," he said. "But if it would save you and thereby save the wizarding world, it would be worth it. Please accept this gift, Mione."

"You didn't," Deandra hissed in his mind. "You are of Malfoy and Black blood, Draco. Giving her this trinket and the vow in front of magic itself would mean… You cannot force the girl into this, Draco. This is a marital bonding, she is not used to your pureblooded customs because she was raised in the muggle world for Merlin's sake. The least you could've done was tell her about the consequences. No wonder I came to her aid. No wonder she was seen as the mistress of the manor. You bound her to you in a magical vow, Draco. For all intents and purposes, she is your wife."

His wife. Before he could answer or even wonder why his past self had been such an idiot and not tell Granger about the consequences of a vow which basically included a life debt as well as a marital vow, Hermione accepted.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger," the witch in front of him began. "Hereby accept Draco Lucius Malfoy's vow to save and protect me from harm. And if those of his blood attempt to harm me, I pray that magic will come to not only my aid, but to his as well." She stayed quiet for a second, as if contemplating what to do next. "And if he fails to protect me, because he does not remember me," she whispered. "Then I wish for him to neither lose his magic or his life. So mote it be."

A golden hue circled around their joined hands and Hermione giggled, actually giggled. "I wonder, what your parents would say when they realize their son is now technically married by magic to a mudblood."

She knew. He blinked at her. She knew what the vow had meant. Had they talked about it before and had the memory not returned yet? Was it still all jumbled up? Why was she not disgusted? What had happened in all these years? She was the golden girl and he was a death eater. A broken man.

"She wished for magic to come to your aid if it could no longer save her", Deandra said. "It would explain the overload of raw magical power you felt. It might not just be the transferring of the lordship."

As the golden hue started to disappear, signifying the end of the bonding, Hermione said "I'm sorry Draco. Thank you for keeping me safe." She leaned up to him and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him softly and sweetly on his lips before he could feel her enter his mind, just like she had done at the manor. All he heard was her whispering Obliviate as his eyes glazed over and she was no more.

Sixth year, potion's classroom

Still reeling from just being married to Hermione freaking Granger – well Hermione Malfoy he supposed, even though it wouldn't surprise him if she decided to keep or hyphenate her maiden name, he was looking at the back of her head in the potion's classroom. She was standing next to a cauldron, professor Slughorn looking down expectantly at her.

"It's amortentia, sir," she said. "The most powerful love potion in the world. It's supposed to smell different to each person according to what attracts them, for example I smell… Freshly mown grass and spearmint toothpaste, new parchment… and apples like the ones grown in the orchyard at the Burrow."

A blush crept up her face and her eyes darted to Draco's for a split second as she said that. Wait. Had they been this close in sixth year? The bloody awful year where all he remembered was wallowing in despair? Had he spent time with Granger then? He knew they worked on ancient runes and arithmancy, but why was she flirting? And why the fuck did Weasley look so pleased when she said she liked apples like the ones grown at his home? Bloody idiot probably thought she liked him. Why did that infuriate him though?

As Slugghorn went on and on about the potion only causing infatuation, not actual love, he and Deandra were having an inner conversation about the likelihood of him telling Hermione what a vow in front of magic would actually mean or not, still discussing the previous memory. Suddenly, he was standing in front of the cauldron himself and Slughorn was looking expectantly at him this time, waiting for him to identify what he smelled.

He arrogantly stuck his chin up in the air, and barely sniffed. But the smells hit him like a ton of bricks. Occlumency walls in place, his past self had no issues describing the scent, even though Draco knew he must be freaking out on the inside. "The smell of the quidditch pitch after it just rained, chocolate ice cream, and a floral scent mixed with grapefruit and apples".

Potter snorted at that and Malfoy scowled at him. On the inside, he was losing it, however.

"You always thought it was your favourite fruit, the green apples" Deandra said in awe. "But it's not just that. It's been her. It has always been Hermione in the amortentia. It's as if magic knew that she would be the one you would bond with…" she mused in the back of his mind as he was frozen in place as if hit by a stunner. Was it true? Did magic itself know that he and Granger – no, he and Hermione, were meant to be together? Wasn't it just the bond playing tricks on him? Or perhaps even his own mind?

"Of course not, little dragon," the spirit said. "Magic is a wonderful and mysterious thing. There are no tricks, everything happens with a purpose. It is also what muggles call fate, but it is more nuanced than that. You don't have to follow it. Magic may guide you, but it won't force a bond where it isn't wanted. I'd forgotten about that in my anger of you not explaining to the girl-"

Slughorn clapped his hands together as class was over and Hermione ran into his arm with her book bag. "Watch where you're going, wouldn't want your filth on me," his past self barked at her, but he noticed the bite was out of it.

She frowned at him. "Whatever, Malfoy." She strode off and he felt a piece of paper being conjured into his hand. "Room of Requirement. Now," it said.

Not wanting to seem too eager, and attempting to lose Pansy by sending her off with Blaise and Daphne, he made his way up to the seventh floor casually. A lot of students knew about the room by now, at least those who had been members of the D.A.D.A club and those who were in league with Umbridge. When he thought back of that time, another memory tingled in the back of his mind and it would not surprise him if he eventually got sucked into that one as well.

Once he reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he turned around a few times to see if no one had followed him and entered the room which was clearly already occupied. The door disappeared as soon as he entered and he was greeted by the view of a small cozy library.

"Do you actually want people to figure it out?" Hermione told him as she smacked his arm with one of the books she was holding as she exited one the stacks. "Honestly Draco, grapefruit and apples and the quidditch pitch after it has been raining? To be fair, the latter would be hard to guess but most of the girls in the classroom know my perfume. Even Harry snorted, but at least he's oblivious and probably just thinks it is girly or something. You could have at least tried to lie. I thought cunning was a Slytherin trait?"

Wait. She knew he had smelled her in the amortentia? And she hadn't run off to the forbidden forest screaming?

He surprised himself even more as his past self grabbed Hermione around the waist as she passed him, leaning his head on her shoulder and trying to look at the title of the book she had just smacked him with. Transportation Tactics for Invaluable Items. "And I thought bravery was a Gryffindor trait, love," he drawled. "Are you scared that weasel and scarface will be mad when they realize their Gryffindor princess has been caught by a snake?"

"They would hex you and I wouldn't be allowed to visit you in the Hospital Wing," she simply stated as she turned around and kissed him. He definitely did not remember this. She did it so casually, as if they did it occasionally. "Now be a dear and help me figure out these runes. They are after all attempting to keep you alive, even if it will also bring a bunch of death eaters into the castle."

"She helped me fix the vanishing cabinet", he said to Deandra, completely in awe as he watched her walk off to another shelf, explaining something she had found. "She helped me even though it could put others in danger."

"Was anyone else ever in danger?" Deandra asked. "You remember mister Potter going after the lot of you after professor Dumbledore was killed by Severus. But no one else ever got hurt, correct?"

"Oh, and Draco," Hermione interrupted their internal conversation. "I've also read up on Hogwart's wards and how to keep the students in their dorms at night so they can't be harmed when they finally get in," she said as she was now hovering several books behind her. "Luckily the room gives access to even the restricted section of the library."

"She's bloody brilliant. Has she been with me since sixth year?" Draco asked Deandra. "Has she been on my side, as much as I have been on hers?"

"It seems so, my little dragon," she answered before they were whisked off into yet another memory.

End of fifth year, the hospital wing

Draco noticed he was disillusioned as he swiftly moved through the Hogwarts halls. It was nighttime and it seemed he was headed towards the Hospital Wing. He also felt very uneasy. The magical signature which he associated with Hermione felt so weak. Dear Merlin. What had she gotten herself into now. He swore he would kill Potter if she didn't like him so much.

A quick check confirmed that the matron was currently not there, and Draco made his way inside, following the once again familiar pull. He passed Potter and some other students, but they were all asleep, probably drunk on Dreamless Sleep. He walked to the furthest stall and moved the curtains away, gasping as he saw Hermione.

Her hair was all fanned out around her head and she was lying deadly still, her skin paler than his. He closed the curtain and put up a privacy ward before disillusioning himself and taking her hand, kneeling next to her. "I didn't know," he choked "I didn't know what Umbridge would to you. I tried to warn you, Edgecombe just told Umbridge- and"

"Draco," she whispered at him, her eyes opening slightly to look at him "it's alright. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Umbridge."

Oh no. He remembered in fifth year why Granger had been so sickly. This was the night his father got arrested. This was the night that was going to influence his future. This night was the reason he got stuck with that awful tattoo on his forearm.

"Voldemort," she began. "He lured Harry to the Ministry. We couldn't let him go alone… Dolohov," she cried as she grasped her stomach.

Dolohov. That fucking idiot. He had hurt her. He would fucking kill him if he ever saw him again. It technically wasn't too late to do so. They would meet again once he'd return to his 11-year-old body. Even though an 11 year-old throwing a curse at an adult was probably not the right way to go. He'd have to be Slytherin about this.

"I was lucky I silenced him and that Harry and Neville were there to shield me," she continued. "If not, this curse might've killed me."

She tried to lift the bottom of her pyjama shirt so he could see, but she was too weak to lift it. He raised the piece of clothing more after getting her permission and hissed. Her stomach was scarred all over. He recognized it as one of the darker curses which were taught to death eaters. Merlin, she was lucky to be alive.

"I should've been there," he said, putting his hand on her stomach soothingly. "Why did you even let Potter go, he's such an idiot. How did he not know it was a trap?"

"I tried to stop him," she said. "But you know I can never… He's the closest I have to a brother."

He nodded at her and combed his hand through her hair, trying to calm her down. "I understand. It will be alright," he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. "Madam Pomfrey will heal you and you will be as good as new."

"She said there might be damage that can not be healed," Hermione whispered. "She said I might never be able to have children."

He stared down at her in shock and he could feel rage building inside of him. He knew that 16-year old Hermione wasn't planning on having children any time soon, but to have the choice taken from her by one of snakeface's idiotic followers was just cruel. Oh he definitely was going to figure out how to get rid of Dolohov in a very creative way.

She started crying again and he crawled into the hospital bed with her and held her close to him, rubbing soothing circles on her back, waiting for her to fall asleep. Swearing he would make this right and kill Dolohov whenever he had the chance.

Sixh year, Slug Club Christmas Party

Still seething with rage, he appeared at the Slug Club Christmas Party. "Mione," his past self whispered, making her jump as she was hiding behind the curtains, probably from McLaggen. He was disillusioned and remembered that he hadn't really been thinking to make an appearance to this idiotic professor's attempt at interhouse cooperation. More like building his own network so he could leech off of people in the future. "I can't believe you brought McLaggen just because Weasley managed to irritate you. Couldn't you have gone with Harry instead?"

"Well," she answered back in his mind, downing some butterbeer, "my boyfriend said he was indisposed for the evening and that half the Hogwarts population including my best friends and his godfather would die on the spot seeing us together."

Oh. So at some point they had learnt to breach each other's walls then. How had that happened? When working together during sixth year? And did she just call him her boyfriend.

"I'm sorry, love," he answered, lightly touching her hand with his. Well. If she had just waltzed into his head without even blinking, it certainly was as easy for him. "We have appearances to keep."

She sighed. "I know. It's just so unfair… Especially now that you've been marked and tasked with… Harry is convinced you are a death eater. And no matter what I do or say to distract him, he's right and he knows it."

"She knew I was a death eater and she stood by me anyway," he told Deandra. "How could it be that I've forgotten all of this? How did I change my way of thinking despite forgetting her?"

"You were never meant to be one of them, Draco," Deandra answered.

As his past self and Hermione kept having their silent conversation, he saw both Potter and McLaggen coming over. This was his time to go. "By the way, tell Crookshanks to stop following me around the castle and especially to the Quidditch pitch," he told her before he left. "People are starting to notice that your kneazle familiar is starting to get attached to me."

She smirked, also keeping her eyes on Potter and McLaggen as they came closer. "Maybe he just loves you as much as I do," she whispered before Harry opened the curtain.

"She loved me," Draco thought, surprised.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Time to put on the show," he told her before leaving her mind and kissing her on top of her head. As he passed Potter while still being disillusioned and made McLaggen trip and stumble into the curtain, Hermione giggled.

"As you did her," Deandra hummed, before they were both whisked into the rest of the memories she'd removed from his mind.