No one knew exactly when Draco Malfoy was inflicted with the curse of vampirism. The Order only knew that after he was turned, he became a weapon. Voldemort's favorite weapon at that. Before, he was little more than a teen boy, throwing jinxes around on the battlefield. They had all just been teenagers, forced to grow up, forced to fight, forced to kill.
After Draco returned, he was lethal. It seemed that no spell, hex, jinx, or curse could stop him. He'd just flick them away like a fly, not even batting an eye. If they did make an impact, he barely flinched. The speed at which he could counter spells seemed impossible. A dozen curses could be cast from him without uttering a word before anyone could slow him down.
Killing by magic was not enough for the vampire. Draco Malfoy would rip the throats from those he encountered, sinking his fangs deep into their flesh, tearing away at them. They would be forced to bury bodies drained completely of blood and gutted like animals. By the end of a battle, he had killed more with his own hands than he did with a wand.
Monster .
"Not this fucking bloke again," Seamus grumbled as he dodged a Confringo that crashed into a potted plant next to him.
Hermione weaved through the masses of Order members attempting to assess the likelihood of their survival. She estimated that there were at least two Death Eaters for each of them, which wouldn't have been an issue normally, but Draco's presence significantly lowered their chances of success. The Order could be undeniably up in numbers, nearing the victory of battle, just for the vampire to swoop in and save Voldemort's grunts.
The bulk of the supplies the Order had were housed at this safehouse. It was a pivotal stronghold for the Order. Many families were stationed at this location due to the numerous rooms and space. It was one of the more isolated areas, where kids could play without fear. Losing this fight would be a significant blow to their operations. They would need to restock important potion ingredients and medical supplies on top of relocating over a hundred people.
But there wasn't another option. They had to abandon the schoolhouse.
The place where Albus Potter was born. Where Hermione and Ginny drank so much fire whiskey Kingsley said they'd dry the Order out by the end of summer. It was where they spent New Year's Eve the past four years, each time hoping the end of the war was near.
Hermione wasn't overly sentimental, but having everything with meaning ripped away from you over the past decade would make anyone reminisce on brighter days.
Days before she had taken a life, when Ron was hers, and she wasn't so tired all the damn time.
Things in the past she had missed most felt so mundane. Attending classes, trips to Hogsmeade, her father's chocolate chip cookies. All comforting things that she'd likely never get to experience ever again.
"Protego!" Seamus blocked Hermione as a red hex came barreling towards her. She had let her guard down for just a moment while she weighed the odds and let her mind wander a little too far.
A thought quickly crossed her mind when she saw him, that if things were different, she would have really liked to wake up next to him.
"We have to get everyone out of here!" Hermione called out.
"They've put up anti-Apparition wards," Cormac replied quickly. "Ginny and Neville got through before they were cast."
It felt as if hell was raining from the sky. Small explosions of heat, the slight cuts of stinging hexes, it became almost unbearable. There were too many of them. Hermione felt breathless as she jumped over bodies and countered spells. The sun was setting quickly, and darkness started to spill over the field of grass.
Find Gin and Neville, tell them to alert others to prepare to apparate to the next safe house. Then, start the counter charm for the anti-Apparition wards. It would take seven, no, eight minutes. I could get it in six if it was bloody quieter. If they could just hold on for six minutes, then…
A cold, leather glove wrapped around Hermione's wand wrist so forcefully, it felt like if it were to squeeze any further, it would snap. It happened so quickly, she hadn't seen anyone in her vicinity that could have gotten so close. Her eyes darted from the hand, to the half covered face. A twist in her stomach formed seeing the blood covered lips.
"Granger, if it isn't my lucky day. I am graced by an appearance from Potter's Golden Girl." The familiar voice spat. The bloodied mouth curled into a half smile. Hermione always thought the voice was so ratlike and sinister, fitting for Malfoy.
There was always regret after she had killed someone. The masks hid who they were and left her mind wandering. Was it someone who was in her year? Someone she sat next to in potions class?
The guilt would crash over her.
But she knew that wouldn't happen if she killed Draco Malfoy.
He was a monster.
A creature that had killed so many people she knew. That wreaked havoc and death wherever he set foot. He was dripping in their blood. The nape of her was so exposed, that in one swift motion he would be her end. But even now, she didn't let her fear show.
"Hermione, it's okay to be scared. You may feel fear, but face it anyway."
It was something her mother had said to her a handful of times when she was very young. Mostly when she was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office or when she had bad dreams in the middle of the night.
She remembered when those words had helped her. Sitting in front of everyone at Hogwarts with the Sorting Hat hovering above her head, barely knowing anything of the world she was thrown into. Her heart was racing, but she sat with a smile, and faced it anyway.
She balled up her left hand and aimed right towards his jaw, but before she could land the blow, he pushed her to the ground. "Pleasant, as always," he sneered.
When she learned of his affliction, she researched vampires to no end, trying to find a way to kill him for good. She imagined shoving a stake so far into his chest they'd have to leave him pinned to whatever object he was in front of. However, he and Harry seemed to be so preoccupied with their own spat that she hadn't even come close, dealing with swarms of other Death Eaters instead.
"Avada kevada!" Seamus pointed his wand at Draco. Without even looking, he waved it away, and before Hermione could blink, the two men were face to face.
Hermione fumbled for her wand, but it was too late. Draco had his teeth deep into Seamus' neck, ripping his throat out, spitting it onto the ground. The blood spattered across Hermione's face as she watched him collapse into the grass. She stopped breathing.
The fear she was having to face now was unfathomable.
The shaking of her hands indicated to her that she may enter into a state of shock, which she couldn't allow herself to do. Still on the ground, she bit the inside of her lip as hard as she could, grounding herself in reality.
"Confringo!" she yelled, pointing the top of her wand directly at his chest. Though he dodged out of its range, it seemed to catch Draco's attention.
Fire spells, every fire conjuring spell she knew was aimed towards him without muttering a syllable. If she couldn't hit him with a killing curse, she'd set him ablaze.
After the fourth or fifth she had rattled off, she was on her feet. The ends of his robes began smoking slightly. With every wave of her wand, he deflected it away. A smirk was plastered on his face, as if he was amused with their exchange.
"This is funny to you?!" Hermione screamed as her eyes filled with tears of unbridled rage. "Attack me back, you coward!"
She kept moving towards him, more and more fire expelling from her wand. Every flare, every spark, she wanted it to take, to engulf him in a hellish inferno. He kept backing away, still dodging the attacks expertly, but moving closer to the treeline on the outskirts of the field. "Or are you too scared of fire, Malfoy?"
"Mudblood has some bite now I see. You've been studying hard, haven't you? Do you think of me that often, Granger?"
"Fuck off, Malfoy!" Hermione's wand made one final flick that ignited a tree in red, hot flames, but the figure in front of her disappeared.
From behind, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against what felt like a cold, brick wall, knocking the breath out of her lungs. A hand grabbed the hair at the base of her skull, forcefully pulling her head to the side. She felt the cool air of the night brush against her neck. The sick smell of iron filled her nostrils, and Draco's icy breath tickled her skin.
"You might not look scared of me," he whispered, his hand pulling tighter in her curls, his fingers digging deep into her hip, "but your heart is beating faster than pixie wings. I can feel it."
Hermione grit her teeth and closed her eyes so tightly she saw stars in the darkness.
She didn't want the last thing she saw before she died to be Draco Malfoy. The bratty, insufferable prick turned into an infernal monster. So she thought of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Seamus, the kids. Her parents. Everyone, anyone but him.
She felt his lips so close to her throat before he released his grip.
"Don't worry, Weasley. You really didn't think I'd drink mudblood, did you?" he called behind them, pushing her forward onto her knees.
The sound of a crack made her spin around, and she saw Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Padma were standing behind her, wands raised. Draco was gone and her eyes immediately darted behind them. The yellow schoolhouse was half caved in and smoking. It seemed eerily calm as the crickets chirped and frogs croaked. Hermione forced herself to not look at the field of bodies.
"You okay, Hermione?" Neville asked as he lowered his wand.
"Seamus… he… he's…" her voice cracked. Hermione's eyes eventually found the familiar orange jumper buried in the grass. The orange jumper that smelt like cheap cologne, Muggle whiskey, and tobacco. The orange jumper that wrapped around her body, making her world feel a little less lonely. The orange jumper that Seamus loved.
In times like this, Hermione was glad she invested so much effort in her Occlumency studies with Harry. With three deep breaths, a wave of cool water rolled over her. The pain that was creeping over her was drifting away to the sea. Her mind was a library, and using Occlumency, she was able to file away her emotions and memories. As if she put a bookmark between the pages and placed it on a high shelf, out of her own reach.
"Hermione, let's get you cleaned up," Padma softly said, stepping closer to her. "Where are you bleeding from?"
"I'm fine. It's… not my blood… How many?" Hermione looked directly at Ginny, as she was the most pragmatic out of the group in front of her. Harry has had countless conversions with Ginny and Hermione about how cold they could be perceived. He stressed the importance of kindness and ease. Their tone though was not due to a lack of empathy, it was just how they had to get things done.
"The count is nineteen so far. Would have been a lot more I think, but you kept that bloodsucker preoccupied enough for Luna to get the anti-apparition charm down and reinforcements to come."
For the next few days, they prepared graves and made preparations to clear the safe house. Though they had successfully driven away Voldemort's forces, the location of the area was compromised, and relocation was necessary.
Graves were prepared for the Death Eater bodies that were abandoned as well. The Order had always buried all the dead. Harry thought that their families should have the chance to collect the remains of their loved ones at the end of the war. Extensive logs were kept on identities and locations of everyone who had died. It was an extension of their kindness that Voldemort would never return.
After Hermione spent countless hours assigning Order members and their families to other safe houses and distributing the potion supplies that were undamaged, she had a chance to finally breathe since arriving in Wales. She made her way to the plot in the field where her friends had been buried.
After she found Seamus' headstone, she sat down on the soft grass. Wildflowers had been conjured over the freshly dug dirt in beautiful reds and oranges. She put her hand on the cold, stone slab that lay flat, tracing the engraved letters.
Seamus Finnigan
1980 - 2008
Her eyes scanned her surroundings, making sure that no one was lingering nearby. When she felt the area was clear, she breathed deeply, feeling the cool waves pull away from her. She imagined reaching up on shelves and pulling several books onto a table, opening them, letting the words spill from the pages.
After she opened her eyes, tears fell from them like spring rain. Big, heavy drops that rolled from her cheeks and splashed onto her shirt. She sat still for several minutes, trying to fill her mind with images of Seamus happy, and not the fear stricken final moments he had experienced.
"Care if I join?" Angelina's voice called to her a few feet away. Hermione dried her face quickly and tapped empty ground next to her.
"Saved this spot for you."
Angelina plopped onto the ground and took a swig from a bottle she had brought with her before handing it to Hermione. By the volume that remained in the bottle, Hermione knew that she wasn't entirely sober.
"Irish whiskey. Muggle stuff. It was Seamus' favorite."
Hermione took a drink of the brown liquor. It burned as she swallowed it, but she had taken a liking to the feeling in recent years. Mainly because it meant that it would eventually dampen all the other feelings. "I remember when he would try to sneak this stuff into Hogwarts and get caught every time. McGonagall must have had a stash to last her the rest of her life."
Angelina laughed, but her eyes were hazy, "McGonagall only had enough to deal with the trouble Dean and Seamus got into. Probably needed a whole bottle every time Snape dragged them to her office by their ears."
"He never changed. Even with the world going to shit, he never stopped being himself." Hermione handed the bottle back to her, and she took another long drink before pouring some of the liquor over Seamus' headstone. They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the sun lower in the sky.
"It's all my fault. I didn't protect Katie, and they found us." Angelina took another drink, tears were begging to slip from the corners of her round eyes. But she was stubborn, she wouldn't let them fall. "Now he's dead, and who knows what they're doing to Katie right now."
Angelina held her hand over the charm bracelet on her wrist. Her fingers traced along the beads with the initials 'KB.'
With the war dwindling the number of Voldemort's precious pure-bloods, Katie Bell's capture would have been a big win for Voldemort's army. When they raided the home of Horace Parkinson, they discovered two pure-blood Order members who were being housed in his manor. The two witches had been presumed dead for months.
They were so full of calming draughts and their minds were so altered by the Imperius curse that it took weeks with a mind healer to recall simple things.
Though they seemed well cared for, fed and no external signs of abuse and torture normally seen in those held in prisons, Hermione did not want to think of the other horrors they may have endured.
Harry's intel, from whoever that may be, had said that Voldemort wanted to keep healthy pure-bloods to reintegrate them into wizarding society once the war was over. Voldemort was convinced that by altering their minds, they would eventually turn sides on the war. Hogwarts had been retrofitted to be a "reeducation" school to instill their twisted ideals. The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry became the Prison of Pure-Bloods and Bigotry. Since their prisons had been overflowing with muggles and the plethora of 'non-pure' Order members, the ones deemed worthy were housed in Hogwarts dormitories or pure-blood estates across the world.
"It's not your fault, Angie." Hermione sometimes could not believe she was placed in Gryffindor when she spoke to Angelina. To her, she was the pinnacle of bravery, courage, and determination. She never hid her emotions, she wore them proudly.
Hermione thought that Angelia was the Golden Girl that the Order truly needed. Not someone who could only put on a facade of bravery through fire whiskey or years of practicing Occlucmany. "I thought about what you asked, if I were in the same situation, if I could do it."
"Could you?"Angelina handed the bottle back to Hermione, looking down at where Seamus lay.
"I could, but I don't think I would ever be the same. And that wouldn't have been fair to you. To ask so much."
A look of anger washed over her face. The tears were gone, and all Hermione could see in her eyes was red. "After we rescue Katie and we kill that bastard, I'm taking Seamus home. Back to his mum in Ireland."
When Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place she desperately wanted to lay down and drink several sleeping draughts until she fell asleep. In the nine years of active warfare, she couldn't recall the last time she had taken a break longer than a day or two. Even when she was ordered by Kingsley to take time off, she may have not fought the war physically, but her mind was put to work doubly as hard.
She desperately wished for a dreamless rest, a quick reprieve before having to deal with the fallout. However, she was immediately met with a parade of questions. She would have much rather written a brief, set it on Kingsley's desk, and moved on. But instead, she sat at a table, surrounded by Order members, all questioning the events leading up to and during the loss of the yellow schoolhouse.
After two hours, she was finally dismissed. Her feet, though sore and tired, led her to the liquor cabinet in the dining room of the Black home. She noticed eyes watching her closely and heard their mumbles as she swiped a bottle of liquor, not even looking at what it was.
She searched endlessly for a quiet place to sit. Twelve Order members and their families were moved to Grimmauld Place from the schoolhouse, and with the thirty oddsome people who were already cramped into the home, it was becoming impossible to find somewhere she could clear her mind. Expansion charms could only do so much for a London flat.
Eventually, Hermione found a small broom closet that hadn't been claimed by a soul yet. She sat next to a mop bucket, her back against a wall and her legs stretching the width of the room. Quiet. It was finally quiet.
Hermione nearly finished half a bottle before a light tap came to the door, and she saw vibrant ginger hair poking in.
"Thought I smelt you in here," Ginny said with a sly smile. "Booze and all. Mind if I join ya?"
If it were anyone else, Hermione would have asked them to leave her alone. But it wasn't anyone, it was Ginny. So she held the bottle out and invited her in. She sat next to her, but refused the drink.
"None for me tonight, have an early morning tomorrow."
"Ginerva Weasley, refusing a drink?" Hermione giggled, the dizzying effects of alcohol rushing through her. "What, are you pregnant again or something?"
Ginny grinned and held her hands up, "You caught me, looks like you're gonna be an auntie again."
Instantly, Hermione sobered, recalling the past weeks of Ginny's bouts of nausea and fatigue. They held each other close, and tears of joy flowed from both their eyes. Hermione lingered in her embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off Ginny's skin.
She couldn't imagine two people who were more fit to be parents during a time like this. Harry and Ginny made it seem so easy, even though Albus and James were some of the most wild children she had ever encountered. A day spent babysitting them felt more difficult than any mission she's been on. It was easier fighting off a pack of acromantulas then trying to get them in the bath. But she loved the chaos of it.
In the past, Hermione often thought about starting a family with Ron. On the day that James was born and held him for the first time, she felt such a sense of relief from the war. That same night, she threw Ron onto the bed and tried for one then. But reality hit her when she got the injury and death reports the following morning.
She felt that it caused the first fissures in their broken relationship. How he had begged for them to keep trying, and that they couldn't give up on hope of starting a family together despite the turmoil around them.
Hermione couldn't though. She didn't want a child to have to grow up in the midst of war. Especially if they were going to be hated because of who they were. Because of who she was. Muggle-born.
"I'm so happy for you, Gin. You and Harry are such good parents. I can't believe it. Another Potter running loose. When McGonagal hears, she's going to leave the country."
She sighed, her hand hovered over her stomach. "I'm hoping to all hell it's a girl. Mum's dinner is next week, Harry and I are gonna announce it to the family then. Are you going to be there?"
Despite everything, once every month, Molly would cook a feast and have her children at the Burrow. They'd flock from all over the world to be together for a few hours. After Hermione broke off the engagement, she had stopped going. However, Molly pestered her, so she made it to a few every year. She never missed a holiday with the Potters and Weasleys though, she put aside the awkwardness for that. But it became more difficult once Ron began bringing Hannah to the Burrow.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," Hermione smiled genuinely.
"You missed the last three," Ginny said, crossing her arms.
"I don't like intruding on your family time. You see me enough already," Hermione trailed off, taking another drink.
"You are family. No matter how much Ronald has fucked everything up, you are still my sister. You're still Aunt Mione. Mum and dad love you like a daughter too. Mum can't stand the sight of Hannah, even after all this time. I'll tell him not to bring her."
"No, that's ridiculous. I'll be there no matter what, Ginny. I promise." Hermione rested her head on Ginny's shoulder, closing her eyes. She smelt like cinnamon tea, so warm and inviting, Hermione felt she could have fallen asleep right there.
"Good. So. How are you doing?" Ginny asked, fidgeting with her fingers. "That debrief was tough."
Hermione shrugged, and held the bottle up. "This is helping. Moody wants us to locate Katie's location as soon as possible. I was going to ask you to come with Angelina and myself, but now that I know…"
"I'm going," Ginny interrupted with a smile. "No treating me different cause Harry can't keep his hands off of me. We've talked about this."
"Okay, okay," Hermione laughed. "We're going to the Hall of Records to see if she's been filed by the Ministry yet."
Ginny nodded, but her face became more serious. "Did you want to talk about Seamus?"
Hermione shook her head, "Not yet."
"We have to get rid of that fucking leech," Ginny grumbled.
"Don't worry," Hermione said, taking another sip. "I'm working on it."