Morally Green

Chapter 1: Return

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and the story of Harry Potter.

"You always do this, Granger," the blonde-haired Slytherin said, dropping his arms at his sides, eyes locking with hers in a painful ache.

"Do what?" Hermione asked with uncertainty as her feet brought her closer to Draco, a magnetic force pulling her towards him. She could admit to it now, it didn't matter. Or perhaps it mattered the most. She longed for him and she didn't even need to hide it anymore. He blinked at her, as if unable to believe what was happening.

"Disarm me with your words. Confuse me. Challenge me with such delusional confidence," He explained, listing the reasons one by one. "Can't you see what a fool you are?"

"A fool?" She asked with a laugh, now standing inches away from him. Under his disapproving gaze, she extended a hand and cupped the right side of Draco's face. Even so, he didn't move her hand away. He simply clenched his jaw, unable to look away. All for the best; if Hermione could, she would have that beautiful face of his turned to her forever, issuing lies and reasons as to why they could never be together. And yet there they were, bodies pressed together, incriminatory breaths caught in their throats and hanging by a thread they were yet to sever. The road to hell was only a kiss away.

"If I'm a fool, what does this make you, Draco?"

"A lost cause," he whispered, head nearing closer, lips almost feathering hers. "But then again, no one ever did have any grand expectations for me." And in an instance, she got engulfed in the arms she would least expect, his heath crashing onto hers, mouth demanding complete dominium. There was no going back now. It was only him and her, finally making the choices they should have made from the very beginning.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, headache invading her temples with guilt and bewilderment. What was that dream? It felt too real to be a dream and that perplexed her in ways she did not comprehend.

She raised her head from the spot it rested plastered on all the documents sprawled on her desk and rubbed the bridge of her nose vigorously, trying to push away the last remains of the dream. It took her a few moments to realize she was in her own office at the Minister for Magic and judging by the almost extinguished candles, it was pretty late. Hermione sighed loudly as she looked around, basking in the safety of her quarters. She remembered finishing a meeting with a senior staff member and signing the last of the papers for the day, which meant she had probably fallen asleep right afterward. She was truly exhausted. But she was working towards becoming the Minister for Magic one day and that came with the job.

Yet, for today, Hermione was free to go home. Unfortunately, she had no desire to do so. She couldn't even remember the last time she felt her house was the haven she deserved. Everything was loud and messy and in complete contradiction to how she really wanted things to be. All the Weasleys always gathered in their home, leaving no moment of rest for Hermione to spare. Ever since the war and Fred's death, Molly had never been the same and her mother-figure tendencies escalated, dotting more and more on her children and by extension, her grandchildren.

At first, Hermione had been delighted; that way, she could focus on her career and Molly would raise Rose and Hugo with love and constant attention. She and Ron would have more time for themselves. They would all be a big, happy family. And for a while, they were. She had become indispensable at the Ministery and was advancing in positions quickly. Her opinions were always valued, gaining more respect and influence. At home, her children were well-educated and her husband still cared for her. And yet, as years passed she felt more and more miserable. Unfulfilled, even. As if something was missing or worse, as if she was in the wrong story.

Molly raising her children meant that Rose and Hugo were more Weasley than Granger and by definition, had a better relationship with Ron than with her. She barely had any time to see them, if she paused to think about it. And more often than not, she would look at them and feel as if they were both complete strangers. And as for Ron, time had proven how different he was from her and that no matter the effort, love was not enough. It was not enough to sustain a marriage, a partnership, or a life. They fought regularly and in order to preserve what was left of their initial relationship, they opted to spend more time apart than together. There was no more love nor passion, only mutual respect and affection. But appearances had to be held. For their children. For their reputation.

Sometimes, she really missed Harry but even he was a passenger in her life, always being sent away on Auror missions. He was risking his life for the wizarding world and the last thing he needed was trivialties from his childhood friend. Every time she saw him, she just enjoyed his presence and his adventures until Ron and her children monopolized his time and left her aside. Or was she excluding herself on purpose? Ginny was also not an option, not when Ron was her brother and she would have no other option but side with her own flesh and blood. Hermione was on her own.

So perhaps, that was also the reason for her unusual dream. An escape. Another her. Just a thought.

But out of all the people to escape within a dream with, why him? She asked herself as she put on her coat and arranged her collar in the mirror next to her door.

That fact troubled her deeply, especially since she hadn't seen Draco Malfoy in almost two years. From what she had heard, he and his wife Astoria had moved away further North and only visited the original Malfoy residence only when the new school year at Hogwarts began or he was needed at the Ministry. He had become a skilled Auror and had even gone on a few joint missions with Harry who claimed he had changed indeed, but other than that, their interactions had been scarce so it made no sense for her to dream of him. She wondered if he ever dreamt of her. She shook her head at the impossibility of that fact and left her office at once, her high heels clacking rhythmically on the silent halls of the establishment.

In the wizarding world, dreams were prophetic. In the muggle world, they were a reflection of your most hidden desires. Hermione snorted as she rounded a corner, realizing how absurd that was. In school, they were mortal enemies and now, they were simply…uninteresting acquaintances. She had never considered him anything else, not even when they were kids. They were total opposites with deadly loyalties and they could and would never understand each other. What a silly dream.

But what the dream did get correctly was her need for human contact. Hermione felt incredibly alone. Ron could no longer resonate with her and life and work had created an irreparable chasm between them. Consequently, it showed how little they had in common and how their love was nothing more than the result of a heartbreaking war and school nostalgia. They were the golden trio and they were all meant to stay together, Harry marrying Ginny and her marrying Ron so that holidays would be spent reliving the same memories and same conversations. So they would be safe and among friends. So she could lose herself even more in their background instead of building a new future.

Having reached the painful conclusion, Hermione stopped a few feet away from a female dryad statue she always passed on her way out of the Ministry. The statue depicted a beautiful forest spirit that was said to grant wishes. The sprite was capricious, however. It only granted wishes to those whom she considered worthy although, whispers said she only granted scandalous wants.

"Dear Dryad," Hermione voiced out on a whim, "will you grant my wish?"

As expected, the statue remained motionless but Hermione continued nonetheless. "Will you, in your infinite wisdom, find a way for me to experience true happiness? I'm afraid I'm lost and helpless and I don't even know how I got here."

More silence followed.

"Huh. I guess not," Hermione sighed and was ready to take her leave when she noticed one of the flowers in the dryad's hair start to glow from within. What strange magic, Hermione had never seen anything like it. Unable to resist it, she reached out to touch the flower and the instant she did, a blinding light shot out from within, making Hermione shield her eyes on instinct. For a few seconds, she could not see nor hear anything and her body felt light and heavy all at once, as if time and space had become one. She tried to gasp for air repeatedly and when she finally did manage to take in a breath, her senses returned to her and the light dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron's voice echoed through to her, urging her to remove her hands from her eyes and stare into her husband's face. A much younger and innocent face. One she had not seen in years.

"What is it, Hermione? Do you have a headache?" Harry's voice reached her ears. She turned to see Harry seated next to her, a worried expression on his equally youthful face. It was as if they were back at Hogwarts, before the war and Dumbledore's death and all the loss that followed. How preposterous.

"Hermione?" Ron prompted.

"I'm fine," she lied and looked around, realizing just then that they were actually in the Hogwarts Express. They were in their usual train compartment, talking and debating as they always did throughout their entire journey to school. She looked down at her study book and connected the dots. She really was in the Hogwarts Express and judging by the Potions manual she was holding, they were in their sixth year, right at the beginning of the school year. Nothing had happened yet, although she had lived it. Fully, painfully and extremely aware. She did not know how or why but a possibility suddenly took hold of her: Hermione had turned back in time.

"If you say so," Ron shrugged and leaned back into his seat.

This was implausible. How on earth did this happen? The last thing she did was make that stupid wish to the dryad but wishes almost never come true. Almost. Was this the time she was the happiest? Was this the reason why she was returned to this particular moment in time? Why not the first year? Why not right after the war? Could this mean something? Could this mean she had the opportunity to change some things? For her and most importantly, for others? Hermione asked herself, her gaze falling on the sweets Ron had carelessly placed next to him - sweets purchased from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. A sudden realization entered her mind: Fred was still alive. Many of them were, in fact.

Hermione turned to look out the window and caught sight of her reflection. She withheld a gasp. She was so much younger, void of dark circles and tired lines. If there was any doubt she had been transported back in time, it all vanished when seeing herself again, as she remembered and loved the most: spark in her eyes, determination in her bones and the vitality to move worlds.

"Harry was just saying he thinks Malfoy is now a Death Eater," Ron explained, still unsure of what to make of her visible muddle.

"Yes, I remember," Hermione voiced out, recalling indeed the conversation and bits and bobs of how everything unfolded. She couldn't remember all of the specifics but she knew all of the facts and all of the ugly events she could now fight to avert.

"I think I need some air," Harry announced suddenly and without any other warning, left the compartment. She remembered they would not be seeing him again until they reached Hogwarts and she felt grateful that she could spend the rest of the trip in peace, putting all the puzzle pieces back together.

By the time they reached Hogwarts, Hermione had been so lost in thought, Ron had to call out her name twice to wake her up from the reverie. She took her time gathering her books and placing them in a little satchel, almost fearful to step down from the train and into her new reality.

"I wonder where Harry is," she said, trying to keep up the appearances of someone who did not, in fact, know the future. Hermione was aware he would show up later in the Great Hall with Luna, nose bleeding, courtesy of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy, she thought to herself, suddenly remembering the catalyst of her current circumstances. If she hadn't had that dream about him, she wouldn't have made that wish in front of the Dryad. As always, most of the things that went wrong were his fault. She looked around the small remaining crowd of students who were having their luggage inspected by Filch when she saw him.

It was impossible to ignore him. He had that alabaster skin and slick blonde hair that caught everyone's attention. He moved like a feline, smooth and confident, knowing all too well the effect he had on others, on top of the status his family name imposed. It was also her first time seeing him in a black suit, perfectly matching his lean physique. How strange, she no longer felt disgust looking at him and she figured it must have been all that had transpired in the future that reconfigured her thoughts. Hermione also understood how much he had changed after years, how capable, skilled and decent he had become, as if atoning for generations of rotten Malfoys and Blacks.

Of course, he sensed he was being watched. Draco shifted his gaze from his expensive trunks directly to her and simply stared back. He then proceeded to frown and open his mouth, perhaps to voice out his usual slander but something stopped him. Perhaps he saw an expression he had never seen on Hermione before and did not know how to react. Perhaps he was just tired. He did look like it; his face was more angular and while he had grown even taller, he looked somewhat frail and exhausted. Dark circles graced his eyes and while to others, that would be a curse, in Draco's case, they only accentuated the hypnotic grey of his eyes, making him look…

Hermione stopped at the right second, she did not want to finish that sentence, especially with an adjective she never thought she would pin on Draco. Ever. It must have been the dream, that was the only explanation. The second she got cleared by Filch, she rushed to follow the rest of the Gryffindors to the castle, Ron barely keeping up with her hastened pace. She had other matters to tend to, a war was coming and the casualties would ruin their lives. She did not have the luxury to think about a senseless dream nor how much his kiss still burned obsessively on her lips.