"Thou recallest those white days — with shadows caressed. When racked by an anguish unfathomed that weeps, the nerves, too awake, jibe the spirit that sleeps. At times — thou art like those horizons divine. Where the suns of the nebulous seasons decline."
Charles Baudelaire
Overcast
Hermione Granger hated balls. The loud music, the crowded dance floor, the superficial conversations, and the pretentious outfits made her cringe. A pang of bitterness hit her as she looked around the Malfoy Manor. This night was meant to be a night of remembrance, a night to honor those who had fallen in the war against Voldemort.
But to the brightest witch of her age, it seemed like most people had already moved on, forgetting the horrors of the past and the injustices that had fueled them. She wondered how many of them still cared about the plight of the house-elves, the muggleborns, or the werewolves.
The young woman was about to leave the crowded ballroom when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"Come on, Mione, lighten up a bit. It's been two years, you know. You can't keep living in the past." It was Ginny, who had a glass of champagne in her hand and a smile on her face.
Hermione turned around and saw that Ginny was accompanied by Harry, Ron, and Gabrielle Delacour, Ron's new girlfriend. A surge of resentment filled her as she looked at them. They all looked so happy and carefree, as if they had nothing to worry about.
"Ginny, I'm not living in the past. I'm just trying to make sure that we don't repeat the same mistakes," Hermione exclaimed, her voice rising. "Do you have any idea how many people are still suffering because of the war? How many laws are still unfair and oppressive? How many prejudices are still rampant and unchecked?"
"Mione, please. We all know how you feel," Harry said, putting his arm around her shoulder.
"But you can't change the world overnight. You have to give it some time. And you have to enjoy yourself once in a while. You deserve to have some fun." Hermione shrugged off his arm and glared at him.
"Fun? Is that all you care about now? Fun? What about justice? What about equality? What about peace?" She asked.
"Of course we care about those things, Mione," Ron grinned. "We also care about you. And we're worried. You've been working too hard, too long. You need to relax, to socialize, to date."
Hermione felt a flash of anger at his words. She remembered how he had broken her heart, how he had chosen Gabrielle over her, how he had never apologized or explained.
"Date? You want me to date? Who, Ronald? You?" She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't make me laugh You made it very clear that you had no interest in me. And I'm glad we never tried anything close to romance. It would have been a disaster."
Ron's grin faded and he looked uncomfortable. Gabrielle, who had been smiling politely until then, suddenly frowned and clenched her jaw.
"What do you mean, you never tried anything close to romance? Are you saying that you and Ron had something going on before he met me?" She asked, her tone cold and sharp.
Realizing that she had said too much, Hermione glanced at Gabrielle and saw the hurt and anger in her eyes. A twinge of guilt, mixed with a sense of satisfaction, filled her. Delacour had always been someone she disliked, someone she considered shallow, vain, and too snobbish.
"No, Gabrielle, we never had anything going on. Ron and I were just friends. Nothing more. And I'm happy for you two. Really. You're perfect for each other." She said, forcing a smile.
The younger witch didn't buy it. She saw through Hermione's fake smile and heard the bitterness in her tone.
"Is zat so? Well, I am 'appy to 'ear zat. Because I love Ron. And 'e loves me. And we do not need your approval or your pity. And we certainly do not need your lies," She snapped, her voice rising. "So why don't you just leave us alone and go back to your lonely, miserable life?"
Hermione felt a sting of tears in her eyes. She looked at Harry, Ron and Ginny, hoping for some support or sympathy. But all she saw was pity. Pity and disappointment. They looked at her as if she was a lost cause, a hopeless case, a bitter old maid.
Unable to bear it any longer, the young witch spun around and fled the ballroom, leaving Harry's voice behind. Talking to them was the last thing she wanted. Their faces too painful to look at. She wanted to be alone.
Reaching the end of the long hallway, Hermione made herself invisible with a disillusionment charm. She kept running, looking for a way out of the manor. Anywhere was better than here, as long as she could escape them. Escape the pain, the anger, the betrayal. Escape the past.
Tears blurred her vision as she ran as fast as she could, until her feet ached and her breath was ragged. She came to a halt at a random corridor, supporting herself against the wall. She scanned her surroundings, searching for an exit. But all that met her eyes were doors, doors, and more doors. She felt trapped, suffocated, hopeless.
One of the doors caught her eye, and she hoped it would lead to a quieter and less crowded place. The handle turned easily and the door opened with a creak. A huge library greeted her, full of books of every kind. Curiosity and wonder overcame her sadness, as she gazed at the shelves. Books had been her best friends, her comfort and her escape, when life was hard.
Forgetting her troubles for a moment, Hermione entered the library. The towering shelves, the leather-bound volumes, the ancient scrolls filled her with awe. A familiar itch to read, to learn, to explore seized her. A dark green tome with golden letters drew her attention. She grabbed it from the shelf, curious about its contents.
But before she could open it, she heard a voice behind her.
"Careful, Granger. You don't want to mess with that book. It's not for the likes of you."
The book fell from her hands as she spun around in shock. A tall, blond man smirked behind her. She knew him at once. Draco Malfoy, her old enemy.
Fear and anger surged in her. The witch pointed her wand at his chest, ready to hex him.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy? How did you find me?" She asked, her voice trembling.
The wizard chuckled, unfazed by her threat. He walked towards her, his eyes gleaming.
"This is my home, Granger. I live here." He sneered, his tone full of mockery. "You ran out of the ballroom like a scared rabbit. I followed you, curious about your distress. You look like a mess. I'm not disappointed."
Hermione felt a flush of shame and humiliation. She glared at him, trying to hide her emotions.
"Shut up, Malfoy. You don't know anything about me. You don't know what I've been through." She said, her voice rising.
The pureblood heir raised his eyebrows, amused by her outburst.
"Oh, I don't, do I? And you think you know what it's like to be me? You think you know what it's like to lose everything you care about?" He asked, his voice mocking.
Confusion and curiosity filled her. Malfoy was a mystery to her, his life after the war, his feelings and thoughts. What had he endured, what had he sacrificed,? Had he changed, had he learned?
She lowered her wand, slightly, feeling a flicker of doubt. "What are you talking about, Malfoy? What do you mean?"
A smile crossed the wizard's face, a smile that was both strange and sad. He extended his hand towards her, catching her off guard. He took her hand in his, holding it with a gentle touch. She felt a shiver run through her body, a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Come, Granger. Let me show you," He said, his voice low and soft. "Let me make you understand."
He led her to a sofa near the fireplace. A fire was crackling, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. Wrapping his arm around her waist , he pulled her with him as he sat down,. She gasped, feeling his breath on her neck. Malfoy whispered in her ear, making her shiver.
"Trust me, Granger. Just this once. Trust me." His breath was warm on her skin, his words urgent and sincere.
A soft kiss landed on her lips. It was a kiss full of meaning, full of care.
Something stirred in her heart, something new and unexpected. Something that she could not name, something that went beyond hate and fear. Something that drew her to Malfoy, despite everything.
Draco's lips pressed against hers, sending a sudden jolt of electricity through Hermione. Shock made her open her eyes and attempt to pull him away, but he clutched her tightly to his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, and his breath was hot on her face. She pried at him, but he held her in place with a fierce grip.
"Malfoy, what are you doing?" His tongue slid into her mouth, making her gasp. She bit down hard, eliciting a groan of pain from him. Anger flashed in his eyes, then they changed color to a deep amber.
Something was terribly wrong, she realized with fear. The young woman fought him off, feeling his muscles tense and his nails dig into her skin. She finally freed herself from him, but stumbled over the table behind her.
A glass bottle shattered on the floor, and blue smoke rose from the broken shards. A slightly too sweet scent reached her nose, and she identified it as one of two possible potions: the harmless Calming Draught or the dangerous Wolfsbane. Malfoy's behavior suggested the latter.
Horror filled her eyes as she looked at him. He clutched his head and cried out loud. "Get away from me, Granger! Get away!" His voice cracked, his face twisted in pain.
She saw him contort in pain, and his features change. His hair grew longer, his teeth sharper, his ears pointed and furry. She realized he was transforming into a werewolf, and felt a surge of pity and fear.
"Malfoy, please, let me help you!" Her voice was calm and soothing, despite her fear. She reached for her wand and summoned the remaining potion in the vial. It might be enough to ease his pain and stop his transformation, she hoped.
Hermione tried to approach him, holding the conjured vial in her hand. "Please, Draco, drink this. It will make you feel better. Please, trust me."
The wizard looked at her with a mix of hatred and desperation. He pushed her away with a snarl, making her drop the bottle. It smashed on the floor, spilling the potion.
He growled at her, his eyes glowing with a fierce light. "No, Granger, you can't help me. No one can. Just leave me alone."
Writhing and whimpering, he curled up on the floor. His bones cracked and his skin tore, making her shudder. His body grew larger and more muscular, his limbs longer and more powerful, his fur thicker and more silver. She watched in horror and pity.
His cries turned into howls. There was nothing she could do for him, she realized. The witch ran to the door, hoping to find help or warn the others.
She reached for the door handle, but it was too late. A gray wolf with bright amber eyes stood in front of her, blocking her way. It was Draco, but not as she knew him. He was a monster, a creature of the night.
"Malfoy, no!" she screamed, backing away from him. "Please, don't do this!"
He didn't respond, but he didn't attack her either. The wolf looked at her with a strange expression, almost human, almost pleading. The beast approached her slowly, cautiously, as if he was afraid of her.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, trembling. "What happened to you? How did you become... this?"
With his nose, the werewolf nudged her and licked her cheek. He lay down next to her, motioning for her to sit by his side. His tail shook on the floor, and his head rested on her lap. The wild creature sighed and closed his eyes. He was calm, peaceful, content.
"Malfoy, I don't understand," she said, stroking his fur. "Why are you acting like this?"
A soft whimper escaped his lips, as he tried to speak. Hermione couldn't understand him, though he seemed to be asking for something, but she didn't know what.
"I'm sorry." With a whisper, she apologized, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "I wish I could help you. I wish I could make this all go away."
A gentle brush of his snout against her neck filled her with a sense of calm and affection. She ran her fingers through his soft fur, and embraced his warmth. The witch felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her, as if a spell had been cast on her.
Hermione's eyes flutter open, a sense of unease washing over her as she detects an unfamiliar presence lingering in the air. She sits up in bed, the soft sheets sliding off her body, and casts her gaze around the room. It's not her own bedroom; it's a place she's never been before.
The sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm and gentle glow in the room. As she takes in her surroundings, she feels a comforting warmth enveloping her, as if someone is embracing her.
"Mate," a voice whispers, and she turns her head to find Draco standing by the bedside, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He reaches out to gently toy with her hair, his touch tender and affectionate. Hermione's heart skips a beat, and she's about to speak when she hears Malfoy's voice.
"You woke up," he says softly, his gaze filled with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. "This was the first time I transformed during a full moon."
Hermione's eyes widen in surprise. "What? Why did that happen?" she asks, her curiosity piqued. She tries to pull away, but he tightens his hold on her.
"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," he assures her, feeling her fear. "We need to talk."
Hermione swallows hard, feeling his breath on her neck. She looks into his eyes, which are now staring at her with an intensity that makes her shiver.
"Talk about what?" she asks, her voice trembling. "How you turned into a wolf? How you brought me here? How you're holding me like we're...like we're..."
"Soulmates," Draco finishes for her. He guides her into his arms, his gaze meeting hers. "Look at me, Hermione," he murmurs, his words soft and low. "We are soul bound. Our connection is rare, almost unheard of."
"Soulmates?" she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "But... how?"
Malfoy smiles, a mix of irony and affection in his tone. "I mistreated you the most for being a muggleborn, and yet, here we are," he says, his fingers gently tracing her cheek. "Fate works in mysterious ways."
Her eyes searching his face, Hermione asks, "When were you attacked?"
The pureblood heir takes her hand and guides it to the scarred skin on his chest. The pale flesh is marred with faint lines where Harry's curse had left its mark. Far more visible is an angry wound that zigzags from his right shoulder to almost the height of his left hip, in three claw marks.
"After the Battle of Hogwarts," he reveals, with a hint of sadness. "Greyback arrived at the Manor. It was the aftermath of the war and I had no choice but to protect my mother."
"Soulmates?" Hermione repeats, incredulous. "You're joking, right?"
He shakes his head, his gaze earnest. "No, I'm not. It's true, Hermione. You and I are soulmates. That's why I changed last night for the first time. That's why I felt drawn to you. That's why I can't let you go."
Cupping her face in his hands, Malfoy strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. He looks at her with such intensity, that she feels her breath catch in her throat. The chemistry between them, the bond that has formed, she can't deny. The feelings that have awakened in her, the same ones she tries so hard to suppress.
"But how? How is this possible?" she asks, her voice barely audible.
He shrugs, his smile returning. "I don't know. Magic, I guess. Fate. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. All I know is that you're mine, and I'm yours. And nothing can change that."
Draco lowers his head and captures her lips in a gentle kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. The witch responds eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. She feels him groan, his arms tightening around her waist.
A smile tugs at Hermione's lips as she feels their bond growing stronger. "We were brought together by something beyond our control," she says softly, her voice filled with acceptance.
Malfoy chuckles softly, his gaze filled with warmth. "Perhaps we should just accept it," he suggests playfully. "I've spent too much time trying to justify my prejudices in the past. The war taught me the importance of accepting the small blessings life offers."
Nestling closer to him, Hermione feels a sense of peace wash over her. They have both endured so much loss, and now, the two have found a moment of respite. "Maybe you're right," she muses, her tone barely above a whisper. "Maybe it's better to trust in the magic that has brought us together."
Draco closes his eyes, a serene expression on his face, and the young witch gazes at him for a while before finally following suit. As they drift off to sleep, they hold onto the hope that amidst all the darkness, they have found a light in each other.