Sixth
One dull and gloomy day of four, forever lost years ahead (and a day that this timeline would never hopefully experience), when thick leaden clouds and sharp gusts of wind permeated one of London's cruelest Novembers, Hermione was captured and mercilessly tortured by Voldemort's army for seven long days. Before she was rescued by a raid of the few remaining members of the Order, she learned the hard way how valuable her memories could be. The Death Eaters had invaded her mind and shattered it into pieces, slurping her knowledge away like a delicious meal and leaving her with a feeling of longing that had never abandoned her. Healing charms and counter spells could only do as much as showing her those past events, but she felt like a stranger in her own hazy mind, watching once familiar scenes unfold from a long distance.
To that day, Hermione felt that there were bits of her life that no longer belonged to her, and this made her hollow and empty sometimes. But that dreadful week had also contributed to forging her character and making sure that she would never lose her past again. As a result, learning how to counter complex memory charms had become Hermione's main specialty. In the last couple of years, before the Order collapsed, she spent countless hours with only intricate books to keep her company, muttering spells again and again until she had thoroughly perfected them.
For this reason, as Malfoy prepared to obliviate her, she felt calm and stayed still in place. It took only one moment to neutralize the charm with an almost imperceptible flick of her wand. Her friends had always told her she was unbelievably impatient and stubborn (and they were right to say so), but Hermione was clever as well, and knew how to wait in silence to strike her target when the right time came. And so, for the sake of her future tasks, she pretended to have forgotten, creasing up her features in confusion before clenching her eyes shut once again. She rested on the floor unmoving, in a twisted position, waiting for Malfoy to be convinced she had passed out, and she thought of all the ways what just happened would change things. She knew that somehow, for her, they would.
As Malfoy's footsteps grew faster and progressively faded in the distance, her turner burned like a blazing fire in her pocket.
The fresh sludge slid under Draco's dragon leather boots with an irritating splashing sound as he advanced toward the castle, his hair dampening under the heavy rainfall. Granger's words were clanging in his mind like a mosquito humming around his head on humid summer days.
I want you to know that there are other ways out. You don't have to do this, and I know how to help you.
He snorted and shook his head while he kept walking. How would she know what to do? As if a bookworm like her could ever ease all of his worries. Problems that she had known to involve one the most powerful and resourceful wizards in their history.
As anxious thoughts pervaded him, Draco kept raking his fingers through his hair in an attempt to stifle the adrenaline that still rushed through his veins just like his magic. He had never felt more lost in his life, but, most of all, he had never been more confused by his own actions. He had always thought that Granger's death would not affect him in the slightest. On the contrary, he was pretty sure that such an occurrence would delight him, given their history. But when Dolohov had been about to end her life, something had clenched around his stomach and had seemed to be devouring him from the inside. To appease the invisible force that threatened to drive him insane, he had acted out of impulse.
At that moment, Granger hadn't been his enemy. She hadn't been the mudblood he despised and deemed inferior. While she was shriveling and writhing under Dolohov's merciless wand, Hermione Granger had just been one of his classmates; just a girl his age that was being tortured before her slaughter. And so, when he was given the option to save her, he had taken it. It hadn't been much of a hard choice to make, and this very fact had shocked him to the core. He'd risked everything: his mission, his family's well-being, and his life; all to save one of the people he loathed the most in this sick world. A throaty chuckle escaped his lips at the irony, but the sound of it was far from bringing him any kind of joy or amusement.
The way back to the castle was endless, tainted with anguish and turmoil. Draco's injuries had made his pace erratic and painfully slow, but the thought of being followed by Granger had loomed over him, forcing him to quicken his steps. She would wake up from her induced slumber soon, and he did not want her to see him after her loss of memory. The sodding witch was clever, and it wouldn't take her much time to connect the dots.
By the time he slithered through the courtyard and made his way through the small hidden entrance, the fog had grown so dense and thick that he could barely distinguish what was in front of his nose. For a brief moment, he wondered whether Voldemort's mist had come haunting him for what he had just done.
He had almost reached the dungeons when one of his fears came true. A still, eerie voice called him from behind, so cold that he swore he could feel ice creeping up his bones as he turned around. A familiar thin man with greasy hair and a large hooked nose was staring at him with piercing black eyes, which glimmered and slightly widened as if he was trying to communicate something to him. But he didn't need to question his glance any further as two other figures, one with ugly ginger hair and one with a scar on his forehead, rushed their way behind the professor.
"Where is Hermione!? What have you done to her?" Weasley growled, his tone full of concern.
When Snape spoke, he didn't even try to conceal the irritation in his tone.
"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter informed me that Miss Granger has exited the castle and hasn't come back." He paused for a second and grimaced, "They claim that you are involved in her disappearance. Is that so?"
"I don't know what you are talking about. I just needed a breath of fresh air. I haven't seen Granger." Draco answered with a smirk meant to irritate the two useless idiots standing in front of him.
"He's lying!" Potter yelled out, pointing his finger at him in rage.
"Shut up, Potter. Draco, are you telling the truth?"
"Yes. As if I would ever come even close to her." His comment was bitter and cruel like poison. "As I said, I was just taking a walk."
As he spoke, Draco wore a derisive grin and kept his gaze glued to Weasley, who was seething with rage. He was convulsively gritting his teeth, his face tense and flushed as his hand gripped his wand. How pathetic.
"Very well, Draco. I'm sure it must have been a coincidence. Unfortunately, since you broke the curfew, I will have to detract ten points from your house. Potter, Weasley, this applies to you as well."
They attempted to retort, but Snape ignored their complaints and interrupted them.
"You are dismissed. Go back to your dormitories before I decide to take more points from you. I informed the Headmaster of Hermione Granger's disappearance and we will take care of the matter. Draco, you stay. I would like to talk to you for a couple of minutes."
Potter stared at Snape with an expression full of rage and loathing, his eyes narrowed into slits before he huffed and turned on his heels. Weasley muttered an insult directed at him and followed Potter like a dog, vanishing in the silent halls.
As soon as they were gone, Snape peered around and made sure they wouldn't be heard with a series of charms that muffled the air and somehow eased his headache. The feeble first light of a new day was starting to filter through the windows and warm his pale features, growing brighter until he had to cover his face with his right sleeve. Snape now stood unmoving in front of him, his curved shoulders resting upon a white column, his cloak curled around him in a bat-like position. As soon as his Professor finished casting the silencing charms and was certain no one could intercept their conversation, he glowered at him with crossed arms and a deep frown creasing up his brows.
"This was very imprudent of you. You were lucky that I was doing rounds tonight, and not any other professor. How is Miss Granger involved in your little excursion? I want you to tell me what happened."
As he narrated the animated events of the past hours, Snape's expression turned tenser and more severe. Draco told him how Dolohov had summoned him on behalf of the Dark Lord to monitor the progression of his task, and how Granger had followed him to Hogsmeade with an Invisibility Cloak. However, he decided to omit the part where he'd saved her life; it made him look weak and foolish. Although he knew that Snape wouldn't snitch on him because of the unbreakable vow, it bothered him to disappoint the man he had always admired in his time at Hogwarts. Besides, it would be no more than a trifle detail since both Granger and Dolohov had been obliviated.
Yes, because he had stunned and then obliviated Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemort's closer Death Eaters, to save the Gryffindor swot. The only thought made him shiver like a first-year.
Draco told him that Granger had been spying on him and had emerged from a corner right after Dolohov left, so he had confronted her and erased her memories before she passed out, leaving her alone in Borgin and Burkes, and knowing she would wake up soon.
He found that he felt no better in confiding his secrets to someone that did not particularly care about his well-being, if not for an unbreakable vow that had bound him to his survival. In fact, he was not sure why Snape had agreed to his mother's desperate request, but he was nonetheless glad of it. Draco kept telling himself that it was just because a helper inside Hogwarts was going to be of much use for his task, but deep down he knew that there was more to it.
The truth was that he was overwhelmed by the complexity of what he had to do. He felt like he was sailing alone through a tumultuous storm in the middle of the ocean that threatened to crash down on him and his family, engulfing him in a whirlpool of death and darkness. In his spiral of torment and distress, he knew that at least someone cared, even if not out of love or affection.
After he was done reluctantly blurting out the words, he finally lifted his tired glare from the sleeping portrait he had been staring at, looking for any sign of turbulence in Snape's demeanor, but found none. He'd just released a long breath he had seemed to be holding, his stance unaffected and his lids unwavering.
"Next time, you will alert me beforehand, so that I will be able to get rid of any disturbance that might expose you. Are we clear?" The thin man with greasy hair finally said.
"Fine. What about Granger? I erased her memories of tonight, but her following me was no accident. She is very suspicious, and I fear she might attempt to hinder my task again."
"You will have to deal with it subtly. She is clever and you cannot draw too much attention to yourself. I can try to monitor her and inform you if I observe odd behaviour, but I can't guarantee it will help."
Draco responded with a slight nod to signal the end of the conversation, then turned around and started walking toward the dungeons. As he took the first few steps, he heard Snape's voice echoing through the stone walls.
"Before you go, Dumbledore requested your presence in his office tomorrow morning, half an hour before class. I expect you to be there on time."
Before he could ask what the meeting would be about, Snape's figure had already faded in the distance, his dark robes mingling with Hogwarts' grim, dreary colours.
As he walked, he could swear he heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching the corridors, but he didn't bother checking who it was. Maybe he just didn't want to know.
Fuck nosey portraits and snooping wandering ghosts.
It was all their fault if Dumbledore had been informed of her late-night outing and had summoned her to his office. Although it no longer was one of her priorities, the swotty small voice still buzzed around inside her head with all different thoughts. You are in trouble. Start packing, you are getting expelled after this. She rolled her eyes at her own behaviour; as if that was her main concern right now. Was she even a Hogwarts student anymore? Only on paper.
She knew what Dumbledore actually called her for: he wanted to ask her about how she had tried to change the timeline, and maybe tell her more about the dynamics of the spell. With Dumbledore, Hermione was still navigating the realm of uncertainty: she was unsure of how much she should tell the Headmaster, but last night had been proof that she needed all the help she could get.
She berated herself for how unprepared she had been: she might have been a war survivor, and her spells were much more powerful than any other school peer, but Dolohov had caught her off guard, and if it hadn't been for Malfoy, she knew well that she would be dead by now.
Draco Lucius Malfoy willingly saved my life.
The dangerous thought that she had been avoiding the whole morning came back haunting her. Her brain didn't know what to do with that information: it was too odd to even process it. Why he had done it remained a mystery to her: he had stupefied and obliviated one of Voldemort's most powerful men, knowing that going against a much more experienced and vicious wizard could have proven fatal to him and his family, but he did it anyway. All to save her.
Hermione had tried to tell herself not to be fooled by the Death Eater, that he did it out of mere impulse and survival, and that he was still the evil prat he had always thought him to be. However, she would be lying to herself if she claimed her perception hadn't faltered. Intrigue was already blossoming in her chest, blurring her rational thinking and dwindling her previous notions. She knew that she still hated him, of course, for all he had done and represented, but what happened had left her pensive and confused.
She ran her fingers along the delicate sway of the solemn decorations on the office's entrance, just to feel the dainty touch of marble on her skin before the password escaped her lips loud and clear. All the small details of Hogwarts were a sweet treat to Hermione, and the ancient beauty of the castle never failed to surprise her.
Welcoming her were both silver and deep black. Severus Snape was standing in the side corner of the office, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the stained glass overlooking fresh grass and gnarled trees. In the timeline she'd come from, he had been long gone, succumbed under Nagini's ravenous fangs, but she had never forgotten her professor's scrutinizing stare. Now that she was aware of Snape's loyalty to the Order, she no longer worried about hindering his moves: she understood the trust Dumbledore had in him.
Waiting for her sitting in the usual armchair was the wise old man, his soothing smile still in place, and his hands delicately trailing over the Sorting Hat, with which he seemed to be having a conversation. The living object looked cheerful and was pleased to see her.
"Hermione Granger, what a difficult choice you were. I see you have grown a lot in spirit, but yet I stay satisfied with the house I allocated you to. A true Gryffindor, now it's crystal clear. How is this year treating you?"
Before she could answer the question, a creak echoed through the quiet room and the door swung open. As she turned around and found a pair of grey eyes staring back at her, she felt her heart somersaulting, jumping around like a fluttering butterfly swinging from one flower to another. She squinted her eyes still glued to his figure. She didn't think he would startle her this much. Thankfully, her brain followed: she tensed up and straightened her posture, her hand lowering to her waist and brushing against her wand, alert. A flash of surprise briefly flashed his features before his usual sneer clouded his face once again.
"Thank you for joining us, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you had a good night's sleep."
"What is he doing here?" Hermione spat in a bitter tone.
"Why do you care, Granger?" Malfoy retorted immediately.
"Is your brain on vacation, Malfoy? Why do you think we are both here? Of course, I want to know how you're involved!"
Dumbledore interrupted their animated discussion with a hand gesture, and then spoke.
"I was made aware that last night, two students violated curfew. Although it is not usual procedure to have you summoned to my office, a thought came to mind and I believe it would be beneficial for house unity. As you are both prefects of the school, it would be meaningful to show cooperation and synergy. For this reason, you will be serving detention together, helping Professor Slughorn prepare his Christmas Party."
Hermione barely resisted the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of that request, so she just clenched her lips shut so tight it hurt. She knew what that was about too well, and the intrigued expression of her Headmaster confirmed it. He was trying to help her change the timeline like this. But what Dumbledore did not understand is that she was not Harry Potter; Merlin, she didn't believe everything could be solved with friendship and rainbows. Not anymore, at least, especially when the subject in question was Draco Malfoy. Time might have made her cynical, but this was much about commonsense, too.
Unless Dumbledore had something else in mind, she did not understand how a muggleborn attempting to bond with a Death Eater would make any sense whatsoever. There were far more effective ways to prevent Voldemort from taking over Hogwarts. Hexing the prat out of the tower was one of them, for instance. Although she knew that he was just a pawn, and that, if not him, Voldemort would find other ways to be successful. Still, how would talking to Malfoy improve things? She wondered whether this was the reason why he had been so elusive about her mission in this timeline.
As she meandered the intricate depths of her own thoughts, Malfoy was animatedly objecting Dumbledore's decision.
"There is no way I'm working with the Mu- Granger!"
"You will, Draco" Snape interjected, "Failing to comply with your headmaster's instructions will result in immediate expulsion."
The look Malfoy shot to the DADA professor was overflowing with betrayal and bewilderment, as well as a pinch of disgust, but it did not seem to stifle the harshness of Snape's words. And so, it took only a couple of minutes for Malfoy to burst out of the room with a sneer on his face.
Dumbledore did not seem to be even remotely affected by Malfoy's reaction and instead wore a satisfied, serene expression.
"Very well. You'll start on Thursday then. Oh, before you go, Hermione, I think you'd like to have a look at this. You can keep it, of course."
With these words, he handled her an elegantly bound scarlet tome, with a few soft golden feathers adorning the side, and sophisticated blue embroidery around the cover. One ocean blue sandglass was drawn at the center, and, although there was no title, Hermione immediately realized what the book was about.
As soon as she was dismissed and her anger had simmered down, she nestled herself on her dormitory bed, blankets warming her in a delicious sense of comfort, and started to read.
Notes: Let me know what you think, any comment means so much to me! This chapter is a lot about Draco and Hermione's internal feelings and how they are processing what just happened, but you'll get more interaction between them in the next chapters! Thank you for reading :)