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: Eternal thanks to my beta, GeekandProud (AO3) a.k.a. AnimeIsMyCrack (FF) who also made the cover image for this story.
- Sixth year, potion's classroom -
Still reeling from just being married to Hermione freakin Granger – well Hermione Granger-Malfoy he supposed, he was looking at the back of her frizzy hair in the potions classroom. What the bloody fuck had she meant with that contingency plan? Had it been going back in time? They had referred to her beaded bag and she'd mentioned he could only go back a few days. Had that been her contingency plan? But why did something still feel off? Why did he feel like he was missing out on something?
Before he could straighten out his thoughts, he noticed that cauldron he'd remembered earlier. She was standing right next to it, with professor Slughorn looking down expectantly at her.
"It's amortentia, sir," she answered the professor. "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 orchard 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 already at the beginning of their 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? Besides, he shouldn't be focusing on that, he should be focusing on whatever plan she'd come up with. Had he done everything right by using the time-turner? Or was there something else he'd missed?
As Slugghorn went on and on about the potion only causing infatuation, not actual love, he and Deandra were 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 smell hit him like a ton of bricks. Occlumency walls in place, his memory-self had no issues describing the scent, even though he assumed he was 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 green apples".
Potter snorted at that, Weasley smirking and mouthing at the Slytherin that that was some "girly shit". Draco scowled at them, acting as if it didn't affect him at all. On the inside, he was losing it, however. There was only one person who smelled like grapefruit and apples… Hermione. How had he forgotten that?
"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 what muggles call fate, but it is more nuanced than that. Magic never forces anyone to follow its path. It 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, making both Draco and Deandra jump mentally, when they noticed class was over. Hermione rushed past him and ran into his arm with her book bag, making him scowl at her.
"Watch where you're going, Granger. I wouldn't want your filth on me," his memory barked at her, but he noticed the bite was out of it.
She frowned at him and rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy." She strode off and he felt a piece of paper being conjured into his hand.
Making sure that no one was watching him, he unfolded it. "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 by now it wouldn't 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 cosy library. There was only one person who could come up with a room like this. Both he and his memory were eager to see her, a smile plastered on his face.
"Do you actually want people to figure it out?" Hermione scolded him as she exited one of the stacks and smacked his arm with one of the books she was holding. "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? How long had this been going on between them?
He surprised himself even more as his memory 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 realise their Gryffindor princess has been caught by a snake?"
"They would hex you and I wouldn't be able to visit you in the Hospital Wing unless we actually wanted someone to figure this out," she simply stated as she turned her head towards him and kissed him quickly. He definitely did not remember this. She kissed him so casually, almost 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?"
Before he could answer, Hermione interrupted their internal conversation. "Oh, and Draco, I've also read up on Hogwarts' 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 magically hovering several books behind her. "Luckily the room gives access to even the restricted section of the library."
He nodded gratefully at her as he made his way to the desk she'd clearly occupied with all of her research material. Looking at the titles, she had definitely done her research and was trying to stick by him, making sure he would survive the horror that was their sixth year.
"You're bloody brilliant, you know that 'Mione?" he asked her.
"I get told so on occasion," she winked.
As he felt himself get pulled into another memory, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd been beside him that entire year. They were way too comfortable around one another, yet the memory he had from fourth year didn't indicate any friendship yet. That meant that she'd been by his side since around fifth year… He just couldn't believe she'd been on his side. But now he knew that whatever happened, he would always be on hers.
- End of fifth year, the hospital wing -
Draco noticed his memory was disillusioned as he swiftly moved through the Hogwarts halls. It was nighttime and from the direction he was going, it seemed as if he was headed towards the Hospital Wing. He also felt very uneasy. The magical signature which he associated with Hermione and had gotten so used to during these memories he relived, felt so weak. Dear Merlin. What had she gotten herself into now? He swore he would kill Potter for dragging her into all kinds of bullshit if she didn't like him so damn much.
A quick Revelio confirmed that Madam Pomfrey was currently not present, and Draco made his way inside, following the once again familiar pull of Hermione's magic. He passed Potter, Luna, and some other students, but they were all asleep, probably drunk on Dreamless Sleep. He walked to the furthest stall and moved the curtains out of the way, 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, her eyes opening slightly to look at him. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Umbridge who did this."
Oh no. He suddenly remembered why Hermione had been so sickly at the end of their fifth year. 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 dreadful mark on his left forearm.
"Voldemort," she began, coughing as she strained herself. He tried to shush her, but she shook her head, wanting to explain. "He lured Harry to the Ministry. We couldn't let him go alone… Dolohov," she cried as she grasped her stomach.
Dolohov. That fucking imbecile. 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 getting rid of him.
"I was lucky I silenced him and that Harry and Neville were there to shield me," she continued. "If not, whatever curse he used might've killed me."
She tried to lift the bottom of her pyjama shirt so he could see the damage that had been done to her, 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, seeping some of his own magic into her to help strengthen her. "Why did you even let Potter go? He's such a fucking 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 removed his hand from her stomach, tucking her in again so she could rest. Instead, he 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 cannot 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 snake face'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 once he returned back to his body. That much was sure.
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.
- Sixth year, Slug Club Christmas Party -
Still seething with rage, he appeared at the Slug Club Christmas Party. "'Mione," his memory-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 his idiotic professor's attempt at interhouse cooperation. More like building his own network so he could leech off people in the future. "I can't believe you brought freakin 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 occlumency 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, looking in his direction, his magic and the touch of his hand guiding her to where he was standing. "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?"
"Because you were never meant to be one of them, Draco," the spirit answered.
As his memory and Hermione kept having their silent conversation, he saw both Potter and McLaggen coming over. Seemed like this was his cue 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 and winked in his direction before Harry opened the curtain, focusing her attention on her best friend instead.
"She loved me," Draco thought, utterly surprised despite all the memories he'd witnessed so far. He'd suspected as much, but to actually hear her say it...
"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, right before Potter stopped in front of them. As he passed Harry while still being disillusioned, McLaggen hadn't seen him coming so he made the git trip and stumble into the curtain. Hermione giggled.
"Seems you both loved each other," Deandra hummed, before they were whisked again once more.
- Sixth year, the night before Dumbledore died -
At first, he was surprised to find himself in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor. For a second, he even thought he'd returned to his body and that he'd finally witnessed all the memories that Hermione had removed from his mind. But then, he noticed the door to his bedroom opening, and Hermione snuck in, parchment in hand. It was dark behind her, but the light of her wand lit up the room behind her enough to make him realise that this was just a copy of his bedroom in the Room of Requirement.
"Thought I'd find you here when the map didn't show you," she whispered as she tucked the parchment she was holding in her pocket. Something told him that piece of old parchment was called the Marauder's Map, but he was unsure where to place that memory just yet. "I just finished my rounds, but I noticed you weren't on the schedule as planned. Is everything alright?"
He scooted over on the bed and put the book he was holding in his hands on his nightstand. The fireplace roared alive, and Hermione seemed to smile thankfully at the room. When he took her hand as she sat down next to him and kicked off her shoes, he realised why. She was absolutely freezing.
"You should take your cloak with you when you do rounds, it's chilly at night," he lovingly scolded her as she laid down next to him, both of them staring at the fire in the fireplace.
"Yes, dad," she quipped as she stuck her tongue out at him and let him envelop her in his arms, cuddling into him for more warmth. With a wave of her hand, the blankets uncurled themselves and spread out on top of them, warming her up even more. "Now tell me what's up with you. It's rare that you ask the room to resemble your home."
He leaned his head onto hers and sighed deeply. "Bellatrix and the others will be coming tomorrow."
Hermione seemed to immediately understand the gravity of their situation. She cuddled deeper into his side, if that was even possible. Then finally, she spoke. "It's alright," she whispered. "Professor Snape took that vow to protect you, so you won't have to…" she seemed to weigh her words before continuing. "I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that Dumbledore is already dying. You've seen that cursed arm of his? I've noticed it spreading throughout the year. There is nothing to be done for the Headmaster either way. Professor Snape knows better than anyone if that's the case."
What did she just say? The Headmaster had been dying? He didn't know if he should feel as happy as he did at that news, considering they were discussing Dumbledore's imminent death. However, it meant that it wasn't him that had led to the destruction of the leader of the Light. That could be seen as a small victory, if any. The shit they had ended up in would've come to pass either way, it seemed. He couldn't help but wonder if Moldypants knew about that when he'd assigned Draco the job of killing the Headmaster, though…
He noticed himself absentmindedly nodding at her words, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder as he held her. "I will leave tomorrow night, if everything goes according to plan. And then, you and me… We will truly be on different sides of the war."
Hermione shook free of him and sat up straight, tucking her knees under her as she scowled at him. The blankets magically moved around her. How was she doing that? Had she always had so much magical control? Or was it the Room providing her every need?
"Don't say that," she scolded him. "We've always been on each other's side. You've never been on Voldemort's, and you can't convince me otherwise."
A smile ghosted his lips as he tucked one of her unruly curls behind her ear. "I've been on your side for a while now," he agreed. "Which is why it's your plan I'm trusting if all else fails."
She smiled back at him and tucked her hand in her pocket, taking out the beaded bag he knew so well. "If I ever show up at the manor, or one of the death eaters finds me and kills me, do whatever you can to find this bag," she said, handing it to him. "It has some of my magical signature attached to it, if you'd need to find it and my magic has…" she swallowed deeply, not wanting to think of her own demise. "I will keep the time-turner in there, so you can use it to go back a few days if needed."
His memory nodded, clearly remembering an earlier conversation that he hadn't been privy to yet. Draco's mind was reeling, however. So this was her contingency plan after all. It all made sense now, why the first and most important thing he remembered when she died was to get that bag and use the time-turner. She'd broken the charm at some point, making sure magic would aid him to get the memory back that would save her. What didn't make sense, however, was that she'd said a few days. He was going back quite a bit more than that.
"Only use it if it's safe to use," he told her, handing the bag back to her. "If you hear that I've died, you can't go and tell Harry and Ron that you're using it to save Draco sodding Malfoy. They'd think you've gone mad."
She answered by smacking his arm. "It would be funny to see their faces if I told them that," she chuckled lightly. "Let's just hope we will never need to use our contingency plan."
He nodded again and Hermione cuddled into his side, hanging the time-turner around her neck, almost as if needing reassurance that it was there if they'd ever need it.
"You know I will have to obliviate you, just like my parents?" she finally whispered after a few minutes, her fingers still playing with the necklace.
He swallowed deeply, his memory-self clearly unsure how to answer. "You know I disagree with you on that, 'Mione. But if you feel like that's the right thing to do, then I will. I just wish I could protect you while you're gone."
"We can always make a vow," she whispered back. "Your magic would protect me as best as it could, and mine would protect you."
His memory sat up and stared down at her. "A marriage vow? Love, that's insane. No offence, but as a muggle-born you've probably never learnt about the consequences of getting married in front of magic. It's not like we can just divorce once all of this is over-"
"I must admit I'm more than a little disappointed that you would assume I haven't done my research on this topic," she said, frowning at him. "I know what it means. There would be no way of breaking it, it would literally be until death do us part. But I fear one of us might die if we don't do it. Besides, I would never divorce you willingly," she admitted sheepishly.
Draco contemplated that for a while. She was right. If one of them ever got in trouble, the other would be able to help, no matter the distance between them. Magic would find a way to protect them. That was probably what had happened when she was starving while running from death eaters and snatchers. He tried his best to ignore the part of him that was ready to burst that she would never want to divorce him.
"You're right," he finally sighed, taking her hand in his. "I'll come to you sometime after my seventeenth birthday. If I made a vow now, my father would know. I wouldn't be able to hide our connection on the family tapestry." He stared at their hands and frowned. "This is just so fucked up. If the wizarding world wasn't such a shithole, I could've courted you like proper magical tradition demands. Taken you on dates and asked you to marry me. My mother would have thrown an outlandish wedding for us at the Manor and you would be Mrs. Granger-Malfoy for all the world to see. But now…"
She lifted his head, making him look at her. "Granger-Malfoy? Not Malfoy?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to correct him. He knew her well enough to know that she'd never be just a Malfoy.
"Is that what you'd do?" she whispered. "If you could change the world? Would you change it so we could be happy together, without anyone caring about our blood status? Without war looming over us? Would you court me in your ancient, proper, ridiculously romantic pure blooded ways? Would you tell your mother about us?"
"Is that what you would want?" he whispered back at her.
Hermione took the time-turner in her hands and studied it, almost as if she was contemplating changing it all herself. "It would require way too much magic to go back all those years," she said as she looked at the device. "Going back to stop Voldemort would require magic the level of the Hogwarts leylines to go back to the sixties," she whispered. "If not, anyone who tried to go back that far would certainly get splinched."
"What about back to our first year?" his memory-self asked, voicing his own thoughts. "After everything you've been through with Harry and Ron, is there anything you would change with the knowledge you have now?"
Had this been the reason why he'd decided to go back all the way to first year? He remembered this conversation almost clear as day now, not even needing the rest of the memory to realise what had transpired. Hermione had clearly stated that leyline power would be needed to go back years. Granted, the Wiltshire leylines were nothing compared to those at Hogwarts. But he hadn't wanted to go back thirty years. He'd attempted seven. The strongest magical number. Deandra's powers alongside the magic that got evoked when Hermione died had seemingly been more than enough to bring him back safely. He just didn't realise that this had always been their plan. Or… Had it been his alone?
Hermione was still thinking about what he'd asked and smiled sadly when she answered what she would change. "I'd make sure Harry wouldn't grow up with the Dursleys," she admitted finally. "I'd take that damned heritage test we talked about and make sure I was at least a half-blood in everyone's eyes. That would definitely make things a whole lot easier."
He frowned at that, not wanting her life to be easier just because of her blood status. They had discussed this before, he remembered as much. How she'd been declined internships at the Ministry, despite her excellent grades. Everything came down to blood status in the end…
"You're the most brilliant witch of our age," he answered her, taking her chin in his hand. "Your blood-status should be of no consequence."
"But it is, isn't it?" she asked sadly. "If I'd want to change that, I'd have to try and reform the Wizengamot. Get rid of all of those bastards from the inside," she continued, looking up at him. "I'm sorry to say, but if I ever become Minister for Magic, your father would be one of the first to go."
Draco chuckled at the thought of Hermione booting his father out of the Wizengamot. But he was also filled with pride. Even in the face of a dangerous war which neither one of them might survive, she was never afraid to dream big. "Miss Granger, such ambition! Are you sure you weren't meant for Slytherin?" he joked, trying to cheer her up.
"Harry was," she said, shocking Draco to the core. Potter was what. A Slytherin? "He picked Gryffindor because that's where Ron said he'd go. Because Harry had heard how everyone who was evil went to Slytherin. Harry might have ridiculous Gryffindor courage, but there is no snake in Hogwarts as determined as him. Harry's stubbornness alone could move mountains," she smiled fondly thinking of her best friend.
"What about me?" he wondered out loud. "Would you try and save me from becoming… This?"
She almost scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. "Are you being a twat for the sake of it right now?" she asked. "Of course I would try and save you from whatever evil clutches your father has you in, even if you would be that same annoying bigoted prat. No one should suffer what you did," she explained as she took his left arm and trailed her finger around the outside of his dark mark.
"I don't know if my younger self would be very receptive of you, even if you were a half-blood," he finally admitted, watching in fascination as she didn't seem to be disgusted to touch the dark mark. If anything, she was intrigued, ready to prod angrily at it to make it disappear.
"That's true," she agreed sadly. "I would have to make you trust me and warm up to me. Perhaps even integrate myself into the snake's den if I would try and attempt to save your idiotic younger self."
He couldn't help but laugh. "You? A snake? 'Mione, please. You might have ambition and determination, but there is no way your kind-hearted soul would ever be a snake."
A wicked smile played on her lips, almost making him regret his words. "You know, if I hadn't accidentally used the wrong hair in my Polyjuice potion in second year, I would've easily gotten into the snake's den while impersonating Millicent. Harry and Ron's potion turned out alright and they waltzed straight in."
He gaped at her. Had she just admitted to brewing a freakin Polyjuice potion in second year? To wanting to sneak into Slytherin House? "They did not," he sputtered, unbelieving that those two idiots would have ever entered the Slytherin common room without him noticing.
"They did," she smirked at him, crawling closer like Crookshanks on the prowl. "You let them walk straight in. I have to say, I've always been intrigued by what the dungeons would be like. Harry once told me I would've fit right in, seeing as I blackmailed Rita Skeeter by keeping her in a jar in her beetle animagus form for over a week."
"You…" his mind went blank. Perhaps he had underestimated the cunning that was hiding behind her lioness ways. "Have I ever told you how much I loved you, you little witch?" he asked as he pulled her down to him and kissed her.
"You might have mentioned it once or twice," she admitted, smiling up at him, the time-turner still hanging from her neck, catching his attention.
He took the contraption in his hand and swallowed deeply, looking into her eyes earnestly. "If I could go back, I would make your Hogwarts years easier for you. I remember what you told me about having difficulties making friends. I'd make sure you'd have plenty. I'd make sure no one would ever call you a mudblood. I'd make sure you and Harry would stick together. I'd save him from his family if that was what you wanted. I'd even tolerate that stupid Weasel for you. I'd protect you from the war for however long I could," he admitted. "Stop it before it reaches you if I have the chance."
"You'd protect me? Even if I wouldn't remember you?" she whispered, in awe of his admission. "Even if we wouldn't necessarily…" she looked around them and waved her hands, smirking. "Even if we wouldn't end up together in your bedroom again?" she winked.
He laughed at her and kissed her on the tip of her nose. "I would change anything you wanted me to change. I would protect you no matter what," he said. "Because you would do the same for me if you could."
She smiled up at him and kissed him. "I would. And even though all that you've mentioned right now sounds sublime, the truth of the matter is, if you'd have to go back to save me, it would mean that I would be dead. Would you be able to live with that? Knowing I would never have the same memories as you did? Knowing I might even fall in love with someone other than you?"
Her question had startled him. After spending all this time with her in his memories, he hadn't realised that what she'd said was true. She was already dead. This Hermione, was no more. He'd never get these moments with her, he'd never meet her again. Not able to formulate an answer in his mind, his memory-self answered, shocking him with his selflessness.
"Any version of you would be worth protecting," he admitted. "For nearly twelve years of your life, you'd live the same, be the same. No one would be able to change who you are, 'Mione. Not even me. And if you, if she, wouldn't pick me again, then… I'd be able to live with that. I wouldn't expect anything from the other you. I just want you to be happy, with or without me."
Hermione smiled. "When did you become such a romantic sap?" she teased him.
"Don't tell any of the other snakes, but I've spent too much time around a certain Gryffindork," he jokingly answered as he leant back against his pillows, closing his eyes, tiredness finally taking over him.
He felt Hermione settle next to him and wave her hands around. With a nudge to his side, he opened his eyes and saw she'd made the room remove the ceiling, showing them the stars and constellations instead, the dragon constellation he was named after front and centre.
"When we're separated, I will look to the night sky and try to find you," she whispered. "So if either one of us ever has the chance to go back, even if it is five days or five months or even five years, we can look up and remember this. Remember that it was real. That we're changing and fighting for something greater than either one of us."
He turned on his side and leaned on his elbow, taking her hand in his to kiss her knuckles. "Promise me you will do what you can to survive, so neither one of us has to go back," he whispered, looking down at her. "It's a contingency plan after all. We shouldn't use it unless absolutely necessary."
She nodded, fighting the tears in her eyes. "Promise you will save me and protect me if needed?"
"Always," he agreed.
"And to not kill Harry or Ron in the process, even if they'd go mental when they see you show up?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I will do my best to make sure Dumb and Dumber are alive and well."
"Good," she whispered, closing her eyes as he settled down next to her again.
Draco blinked, and he could feel that the memory had skipped ahead, even if they were still in the room. Hermione was sleeping soundly next to him, the time-turner still around her neck. The night sky was starting to lighten, indicating that morning was just around the corner. He tucked his beloved in under the blankets and softly got up from the bed, walking over to his robes that he'd hung on the chair of his desk when he'd first entered the room.
To his own surprise, his memory-self pulled out the trinket he'd given to Hermione when they made their wedding vow. It seemed like he'd been planning to protect her by any means necessary long before she even suggested bonding themselves together. He pointed his wand at his scalp and he could feel the previous memory he'd just witnessed being pulled out of his mind. The silvery sheen was hanging from the tip of his wand and got absorbed by the ruby charm on the ankle bracelet. He then conjured a dagger and made a small cut on the palm of his hand.
"If we do need to use our contingency plan after you obliviate me," he whispered to Hermione's sleeping form as his blood and magic got pulled into the charm, building up its protections for her, "then I will do everything I can to protect you. I will make sure that whatever you wished for now, will come true. Even if I have to tear down the Hogwarts or the Wiltshire wards down myself to gain the magic that I need. If we do happen to face the worst that can happen, then I won't let you suffer and die for nothing. I will make it right, like you would do for me."