- Fourth Year, The Yule Ball -
Pansy Parkinson trying to kiss him had not been his idea of a nice memory and he started to wonder if this instead was just a nightmare after all. Dodging Pansy as he'd done the first time round, he immediately recognized that they were in the Great Hall and that the Yule Ball was nearing its end. Wait, why was he here? He actually remembered this. Any moment now, Granger and Weasley would argue and then he would run after her to taunt her some more, only to leave when he saw her sullen face in that classroom. What could she have possibly hidden here?
He shrugged Pansy off of him, ignoring her whining, and started walking 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 fraternising with the enemy. 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 he and his family were part of the sacred twenty-eight.
Once he had reached the location of their yelling contest, Hermione had disappeared already 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 had she said about him? That he was like her brother in all but blood? He hoped that when he returned, whatever changes he made, would not alter the bond between Hermione and Harry. Speaking of bonds, that was exactly what he was trying to figure out… How in Merlin's name had the two of them ended up 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 that he faintly 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. She refused 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…
"Unless she removed it from your mind," Deandra agreed. Well great. He guessed he was in for another surprise then.
Draco's mouth moved on its own accord, following the rules of having his memories returned to him. Everything had to play out exactly like in the original timeline, before she had obliviated him. Else there would be no way for him to remember. "Well I thought I would come and look at Weasley's outstanding work of putting you in your place, mudblood. Perhaps the blood traitor has some refining qualities after all," he spat back. He mentally cringed at himself. Why had he been such a twat?
She laughed at him. What an unusual response. Maybe Granger had been drinking too much of the spiked butterbeer?
"You know, insults from hateful gits such as yourself don't hurt as much as the ones that come from those you consider to be your friends, Draco," she answered. He never thought he'd hear his name come out of her mouth with so much venom. He couldn't blame her, however. He fucking deserved it.
"How did you know it was me anyway?" he drawled, arrogantly walking closer to her, his hands in his pockets. "Keeping an eye on me, are you Granger?"
"I always know when it is you," she whispered, clearly not realising 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?" He had never truly admitted to himself how easy it had been for him to find her in a crowd. How her magic had felt familiar to him ever since he'd met her on the Hogwarts Express. Had it been the same for her?
Deandra shrugged in his mind as even the spirit seemed to be unsure of the reason why his magic had been so attuned to hers. "Perhaps it is the lingering bond between the two Malfoy lines. She is the descendant of Armand's adopted daughter after all. You seem to be specifically attuned to her magic on some sort of level. Would it be that strange to think that she feels the same?"
The younger Draco sat down next to Hermione, voicing his inner thoughts out loud. "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, crossing her arms as she did so and leaning away from him. "I could do way better than the likes of you, Malfoy. 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? However, he wasn't sure anymore if it was loathing at who she was, or if he was loathing something else entirely during those six years at Hogwarts.
"Astute observation, Miss Granger," Draco admitted to the horror of both him and Hermione. Trying to cover it up, his memory proposed sarcastically: "Perhaps a secret little mudblood to hide from my daddy is all I've wanted in life?"
She laughed again, a hearty laugh this time and he felt his body shake as he laughed with her. It felt good to laugh. He couldn't remember that he ever showed his true feelings while at Hogwarts, being trained by his father to never show any emotion.
"If you weren't such a bloody git, I think we might've actually ended up being friends," she admitted, looking at him with her big brown doe eyes. "We are the top students in our year, neither one of us ever backs down from a challenge, and we always strive for the best. We could've been quite the invincible pair."
"Your Slytherin traits are showing, Miss Granger," he answered, making her frown. "Besides, Malfoys always strive for the best. It's why I have been spending the past three and a half years competing with you for the best grades."
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, especially if they had bonded over their studies and common goals.
"Shame I'm not a Malfoy," she sighed, looking away from him again, fumbling with the layers on her dress. "Life might've been easier growing up with other children like me…" she mumbled finally.
He faintly remembered another memory, another strand connecting in the back of his mind. She had once told him what life had been like as a bucktoothed frizzy-haired bookworm who always had weird things happen around her. She'd mentioned that 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. Even if Hermione Granger always seemed strong and unwavering, he never realised that on the inside, she too had her own insecurities and demons to face. Just as he had.
"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 about what he'd just said. "Don't let him get to you," he whispered finally. "He's not worth it. He's not worthy of you. He's just jealous you went out with famous quidditch star Viktor Krum, instead of with lousy old Ronald Weasley."
He adjusted his robes, feeling more than a little awkward as he got up and started walking away from Hermione. What had prompted him that day to actually attempt to be somewhat supportive of Granger? 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. Perhaps, that had been why he'd followed her in the first place?
"Thank you, Draco," she said right as he reached the door, his hand lingering on the door knob. "Maybe I will take a page out of Mrs. Malfoy book one day and show him who's boss."
- 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. It was honestly even worse than side-along apparition. 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 pointing 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 and scrutinising him. "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. One look at Hermione, at himself, and he knew this couldn't have been that long ago. The memory he was living through now couldn't be more than a year old. His death eater garb could definitely attest to that.
"Mione, love," he began, trying to lessen her anger.
Love? Did he just call her 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 hadn't lowered her wand but her gaze at least seemed more friendly now. "I am supposed to be on a scouting mission. If the band of bumbling baboons knew 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?"
Her fear matched his. He knew what a scouting mission meant, especially if it was to the home of the most famous muggle-born witch of their time. They were planning on brutally torturing and murdering Hermione and her family, just to make a point, just to spread fear. Merlin, he hoped that she'd hidden them, that her parents had escaped…
"Yes, Mione. I don't know when they will come, but it will be soon. You know what this means…" he whispered as he finally reached her, putting his hand onto the one holding her wand, pleading with her to lower it. "When were you planning on leaving for the Burrow?"
The Burrow? How much had he known of her life?
"Next week," she stammered. "But-"
"You should leave tomorrow," he stated urgently. "It might be your only chance to save them."
The two just stared at each other until Hermione nodded and finally 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 memory-self pulled her closer to him, his hand at the back of her head as he leant his cheek down on top of her hair, breathing in her familiar scent of grapefruit and apple perfume she always wore. Another memory tugged at him when he breathed in that scent. Was that a cauldron?
Hermione looked up at him, bringing him out of his musing, and smiled sadly. "What if I can't bring them back?" she whispered. "What if I can't bring you back when 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 definitely flirty behaviour. Oh Merlin. Granger was hiding way more than their friendship, the time turner or any bonding, wasn't she? He started to get an inkling feeling that whatever vow they'd made to protect each other, was way more than just friends looking out for each other. If she truly had become his wife in front of magic, then she… They…
"It will be alright," he told her, trying to encourage her. "You are the brightest witch of our age, after all, you little swot."
She laughed and punched him playfully in the arm, taking some distance from him. Even though she'd smiled, he could still see the sadness in her eyes. "You won't be alone in this," he promised. "I am not leaving you alone with those two idiots you call friends."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Draco, really. If you actually decide on helping the Light, then perhaps you should start referring to Harry and Ron as-"
Wait a second. He'd actually actively helped the Light? He? Draco Malfoy? Coward extraordinaire? Not too long ago, he was too much of a coward to flee. And here, Hermione Granger, was telling him he'd decided for himself to help the Light. No fucking way.
He held up his hand at her, chuckling and trying to stop her rant as she was protecting her friends. "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…"
Oh. That made more sense. He could see himself being on her side. Going over to the Light was a bit too much to ask, even after he'd seen the war. Malfoys had been grey, like the Greengrass family, before Abraxas Malfoy took over. He could only hope they would be again once all of this was over.
"When I get all what?" she asked, defiant, shrugging herself out of his arms and crossing her own. He remembered that look on her face. The one where she made clear that no one would be messing with her.
"All frustrated and 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. Horror filled him. He remembered now. She had been hunting Horcruxes.
"Merlin," Deandra exclaimed in shock. "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, grew up in the townhouse in London. The one that Potter inherited from his godfather," he began. "Which reminds me, I did some digging and Bellatrix won't be able to enter it even if she's a Black, so it should be safe for the three of you to hide for a while at least."
Hermione nodded, seemingly grateful for this information he'd provided. "What about Cassiopeia?"
"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, unsure of how Hermione would feel about that. "To protect the child from harm by 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 at all times. No one ever did hurt the child, but she assumed that the blood magic would protect her child no matter what. That it would save it if need be."
Hermione was now looking down at the trinket he'd handed her, turning it over in her hands. It was a small ankle bracelet set in gold, with one ruby charm clasped onto it.
"I thought you would appreciate the Gryffindor colours," Draco smirked as he watched her admire it.
"The runes on this are very complicated," Hermione said as she watched the ruby and smiled. "But, Draco, if anyone finds out about the blood magic that you've put into this, then-"
"No one will know," he stated, assuring her. "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… All you will need to do is try and break it, then I should be able to remember our contingency plan," he answered.
Contingency plan? Was going back in time not the plan she'd wanted him to remember? He hadn't even noticed Hermione wearing that ankle bracelet at the Manor, let alone see her break it.
"She might have," Deandra answered his thoughts. "When the wards transferred to you, I didn't just feel her blood and magic on the wards. I felt yours as well. I thought it was because she was bound to you, but perhaps it was the blood magic from the trinket…"
Their inner conversation was stalled as tears filled Hermione's eyes, thankful for Draco's precious and thoughtful gift. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Draco looked at her and wished to Merlin he'd not forgotten this. He'd willingly put his magic and blood in a trinket for her, ready to protect her at any cost. That had more significance for old pureblood traditions than Hermione could ever know.
In his musing, he didn't realise that his memory-self had now clasped his hand around Hermione's and had started to speak. "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 swear on your blood and your magic," she said "It might kill you. After you've been obliviated, there is no way for you to know certainly if-"
"I know," he said. "But if my magic would sustain you in your hour of need, if it would save you and thereby save the wizarding world, it would be worth it. Please accept this gift, Mione."
Well. There it was. At least now he knew why he'd felt so drained these past few months. He assumed their stay at Grimmauld Place had been short-lived if she'd actually started starving and needed his magic to help strengthen her.
"You didn't," Deandra hissed in his mind, suddenly angry as she came to the same conclusion as he did. This was the moment where they'd been bonded. "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 pure-blooded 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. He was right to assume she had been. He just didn't think it would have happened like this. Before he could answer or even wonder why his past self had been such an idiot and not told Granger about the consequences of a vow which basically included a life debt as well as a marital vow, Hermione clasped his hand strongly, determination in her eyes.
"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 quietly, "then I wish for him to neither lose his magic nor his life. So mote it be."
A golden hue circled around their joined hands and Hermione giggled as the magic settled, both of their magical cores strengthened by each other's presence. "I wonder what your parents would say when they realise their only son is now 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 this part of their so-called contingency plan? Why were his memories still all jumbled up? Why was she not disgusted with him? What had happened in all these years? She was the golden girl and he was a death eater. He was broken. Yet, she didn't seem to mind as she willingly bound herself to him.
"She wished for magic to come to your aid if it could no longer save her", Deandra said. "It would explain the enormous amount 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 turned sad. "I guess this is it then," she said, her shoulders drooping.
"It won't be for long, love," he answered, cupping her head in his hands as he rested his forehead on top of hers. "You've prepared for this. We've prepared for this. I trust you to see this through. I trust you to bring me back."
She looked up at him and nodded. "Just don't forget about the plan if something goes wrong, if you hear that Harry… That I… That one of us has perished. Don't go back more than a few days, your magic won't be able to take it all."
"Just remember to crush the charm," he whispered back to her. "Then I won't forget. You'll keep the time-turner in your beaded bag, right?"
She nodded again and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him softly and sweetly on his lips. He could feel her enter his mind, right through the front door of the mental Malfoy Manor he'd built. "I'm sorry Draco," she said as he felt her start snapping the threads. "If anything happens to you, I will go back and save you too."
He kissed her back fiercely, not wanting to let her go, as he felt more and more memories snapping in his mind, an ache and emptiness growing in his chest after the vow they'd just made.
"I'll always protect you," he whispered as he finally let go of her. "I promise."
Hermione smiled up at him and pulled her hand through his hair. She cupped his cheek into her hand, seemingly trying to remember every single detail about him. "I know you will."
With another kiss, he could hear her whisper the obliviation spell. His eyes glazed over and he found himself at gates to Malfoy Manor. Hermione was no more, and he got pulled into another memory, the emptiness in his chest becoming bigger and bigger as he realised what he'd lost.