! This chapter is written from Hermione's perspective !
- Hermione's bedroom, 4th of August 1991 -
Draco paused, his gaze sweeping around the room. He studied every nook and cranny, his eyes lingering on some photographs adorning the wall beside him. A soft smile touched his lips before he finally sat down on her bed, looking around in wonder. "Your room is so… unmistakably you," he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of amazement.
"You've never been here before?" Hermione inquired, slightly surprised that he hadn't.
"Of course I haven't, Mione. All I've ever caught were glimpses while I was standing in the hallway. Why would you presume I had been here before?" He scowled at her in confusion.
A blush crept up her cheeks. "Is it so far-fetched of me to think that you'd been here before? In the first timeline at least? You were my husband , after all. I assumed you would've at least visited my home at some point."
He shook his head and proceeded looking at memory-Hermione scribbling in her two-way-diary at her desk. "The first time I ever visited, was to warn you of an impending attack on your family. That was the day we made the vow, right outside in your garden…" Draco trailed off, his mind wandering to memories of his past life. "Our relationship was always shrouded in secrecy. It would have been exceedingly dangerous for me to be spending time here with you and your parents. If one of the death eaters or my father would have found out…" He let out a deep sigh, the weight of his past life bearing him down.
"Are you saying that no one knew about us?" she whispered in disbelief. "Not even my mum?"
"No one," he confirmed, his voice low. "It wasn't safe, Mione, considering what sides of the war we were on. You were Harry Potter's best friend, a symbol of the resistance against Voldemort, and I was-" His hand drifted to his left forearm, a shadow crossing his face.
"A death eater," she said softly, finishing his sentence for him. The weight of his words lingered between them.
He nodded tersely, not giving her a hint about the emotions swirling inside of him, as she moved to sit beside him on her bed.
"Why did you want to show me this memory specifically, Mione?" Draco asked. "If you wanted me to see your bedroom, all you had to do was invite me to stay over during summer…" The teasing smirk on his face made her heart feel lighter. He was finally getting better. Thank Merlin.
Hermione poked him in his side playfully. "Prat. If you're so curious, why don't you take a closer look?" She folded her arms, leaning back against the wall behind her with an expectant look on her face. When he didn't move, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Go on then. See what I'm writing."
Draco hesitated for a moment but eventually stood up. Even if his movements were still slow, he didn't seem to be out of breath any longer. He moved over to her memory-self cautiously, reading over her shoulder as she busily wrote in the diary.
He turned his head to her, looking sombre. "Is this the night we discussed Hogwarts Houses?" he whispered.
She nodded.
"Do you ever regret not being in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw?" Draco asked, seemingly unsure.
Reaching out her hand to pull him back beside her, she shook her head. Hermione understood the unspoken depth of his question. This was why she'd brought him here in the first place, to erase his doubts. From their previous conversation, she could tell that he'd harboured guilt about her growing up a Slytherin instead of a Gryffindor. That she didn't grow up spending her summers at the Burrow.
And even though part of her wondered what it would have been like, she was glad to have spent them with the Blacks and with him instead. She was still friends with Ginny and Bill anyway, so perhaps some of those lost memories with the Weasley family would still come to pass in this timeline.
Hermione cuddled into his side, wrapping her hands around his arm as she rested her head on top of his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she spoke softly. "I think after all that has happened, being a snake suits me best. In Gryffindor, I would have had Harry and perhaps Ron. But in Slytherin, I have Harry, Daphne, Blaise, Theo, Tracey, Astoria… You. I wouldn't trade any of you just to be in Gryffindor red and gold."
Memory-Jean entered the room and caught Draco's attention before he could react to Hermione's confession.
"What's troubling you, pumpkin?" Dr. Granger asked, approaching her daughter with a concerned look as she noticed memory-Hermione's tearful eyes.
Hermione noticed that Draco was worried too. She knew he was questioning her earlier confidence about being in Slytherin. "Just watch," she tried to assure him.
As Jean crouched by her daughter's chair, the girl sobbed. "Mum, what if I don't belong in any of the houses? Harry and Draco promised we would stick together, but what if we get separated? It's only been a few days, but I've never connected with anyone like I have with them. No one has ever understood me as well as they do. Harry is so sassy and funny, always making jokes, even if he's a bit shy. And Draco, he's wickedly smart and eloquent. He's very considerate of both me and Harry. It feels nice,to haveg friends. But I am terrified I will end up losing them, Mum."
Draco swallowed deeply and his hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. Hermione herself struggled to maintain her composure.
"Oh, love, don't be scared," Jean comforted her daughter, stroking her hair to calm her down. "If you truly are meant to be friends, then why would magic separate the three of you? I understand that the Hogwarts houses are supposed to represent the best qualities in each of you, but in the end, the houses only differ you by the colours of your robes. No matter what house you end up in, I'm sure the boys will stay your friends. And that you will make new ones along the way too."
Memory-Hermione blew her nose loudly in the tissue her mum offered, and nodded. "The three of us thought about being sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin because that's where Harry and Draco will most likely end up considering their families," she said. "But Draco seems to lean towards Slytherin most, because…" Her memory-self seemed to be doubtful, unsure if she should confess what Draco had shared about his family's expectations to her mother. "His parents might disapprove if he doesn't get sorted into Slytherin," she whispered. "But I- I can't be in Slytherin because I'm a muggle-born," she cried. "Draco suggested a heritage test, but Mum, neither you nor Dad are magical! There is no way we descend from wizards and witches."
Her mother smiled gently and wiped away her tears. "I have an inkling feeling that we do have magic in our lineage, somewhere," she said mysteriously. "How else would we have ended up with such an extraordinary daughter like you?" Hermione nodded, still uncertain. "We can meet the boys and conduct a heritage test. But don't let the outcome influence you. It is your choice in the end, alright? Do not feel pressured to choose Slytherin if it doesn't feel right. Pick the House where you feel you belong."
The memory faded, leaving Draco and Hermione alone in the room.
Draco shifted beside her, turning his head to hers. His eyes seemed to search hers for an unspoken truth. "So you're… happy you ended up in Slytherin?" he wondered. "Even after you knew that you originally were a Gryffinor, in the first timeline?"
"I am happy," she affirmed sincerely. "I do see both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw traits in myself, but I'm too determined and stubborn to truly belong in either one of those."
A chuckle escaped his lips. "I can only imagine your first encounter with the Sorting Hat. It might not have had a student as complex as you in the past hundred years."
"Want to bet?" she winked at him as she squeezed his hand, whisking them away to the day she first saw Hogwarts.
- The Great Hall, 1st of September 1991 -
"Can you warn me next time you do that, please?" Draco grumbled as he nearly collided with the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall.
"Perhaps I like being full of surprises," she quipped back at him, a mischievous smile on her face. She pulled him towards the front of the room to view the memory of their sorting ceremony.
As Hermione saw herself approach the tiny wooden stool, the Gryffindor Head of House ready to put the Sorting Hat on her head, nostalgia hit her.
"I was so nervous," the brunette whispered right before the hat touched her younger self's head. "I know we three agreed to be in Slytherin, but I was still doubtful I would belong with the snakes, considering the past few generations of squibs in my line."
"We would've followed you anywhere you were sorted," Draco answered, squeezing her hand tightly in reassurance. "Harry and I made a pact the night before we boarded the Hogwarts Express. All three of us grew up alone and neither one of us was about to give up on our friendship. You didn't need to worry so much. Ravenclaw, even Gryffindor, would've been just fine with us."
"But not Hufflepuff," she teased him knowingly.
He shot her a mock-stern look. "Please, Mione. I am a Malfoy. At least some of my dignity needs to be maintained."
"Snob," she chided him playfully as she nudged him in the side, noticing he was finally standing up straight without any help from herself or the nearest object he could lean on for support. "You know you have a soft spot for the badgers."
He was about to quip something witty back at her until they both heard the Hat talking to the younger brunette, the memory revealing the conversation to Draco for the first time.
"Ah, plenty of courage, I see. And a loyalty binding you to your friends if you'd be willing to be sorted anywhere as long as you are with them. A strong sense of justice as well. Mhm." The hat was quiet for a second and chuckled. "Always proud of your achievements, no matter your adversaries' response, it seems. And quite ambitious if I may be so bold?"
A blush spread on the younger Hermione's face.
"Aspiring to be Minister for Magic, you say? Yes, you definitely are determined enough… Stubborn too. Magical Britain could do with a strong leader like you. Better be… Slytherin!"
"Minister for Magic?" Draco asked, looking genuinely surprised as memory-Hermione basically skipped down the stairs towards the Slytherin table, passing through them.
Hermione turned to look at him and crossed her arms. She whipped her hair back, and snobbishly looked down her nose at him, trying to imitate his own behaviour as best as possible in her attempt to tease him. "Why, Lord Malfoy. Who better than me to steer British wizarding politics and to improve the rights of muggle-borns, house elves, and other magical creatures?" She smirked at him confidently.
He smirked back at her, raising his eyebrow. "Miss Dagworth-Granger, even at nearly twelve years of age you harboured such ambition?"
She shrugged casually. "Ever since I met Dobby and you mentioned how bigoted the wizarding world could be, I started researching."
He laughed. "Of course you did."
"Minister for Magic seems to be the only logical outcome, doesn't it? And when we beat Voldemort this time around, I want to ensure that no dark wizard or witch has such ease rising to power because of the lack of funding for the D.M.L.E. or the number of bigots seated in the Wizengamot," Hermione declared.
"A noble pursuit indeed," Draco commented, slipping his hands in his pockets as he continued watching his own and Harry's sorting. "It seems my own efforts and scheming to gather as many political alliances as possible will pay off. You already have seventeen votes behind you, Miss Dagworth-Granger. One-third of the Wizengamot down. If you play your cards right, I might even have found you an international ally in Lord Delacour."
Hermione's eyes widened in astonishment. "Seventeen votes?!" she screeched. "How did you get seventeen votes?" Her mind started racing, trying to tally the numbers. When had he done this? Of course, they had allied themselves with House Potter, Black, Bones, and Weasley. But that didn't total up to seventeen bloody votes! "Are you taking the mickey out of me right now?"
Draco shook his head. "Well, the seventeenth was unexpected," he drawled. "Apparently my father wasn't a complete tool and he managed to get ownership over the Crouch vaults and House. He was the one who ended their line by having Barty Crouch Jr. kissed by dementors after all. I wonder how his Dark Lord will like that particular bit of information... Either way, Bill Weasley's future wife also owes me a life-debt after saving her little sister, giving you an international ally in the Delacours. Then there's Bill as Lord Prewett, and the Weasleys. The others are most of our friends. So that makes a total of seventeen: Malfoy, Crouch, Potter, Slytherin, Peverell, Black, Dagworth-Granger, Weasley, Prewett, Lovegood, Bones, Longbottom, Abbott, Nott, Zabini, Greengrass, and finally Diggory. Not all of them have gotten their seats in the Wizengamot yet, but they will."
Hermione stared at him in a mix of disbelief and admiration. Sure, she had ambitions to one day run for Minister. To change the wizarding world and take it by storm. To show all those pureblooded bigots out there that she was more than the descendant of squibs. To make sure no magical child would ever have to grow up again in an unloving home, like Harry had. To protect house elves and other magical creatures' rights.
She'd imagined it would take years of proving herself, working her way up at the Ministry, and perhaps by the time she was forty-five things would have changed enough for her to be able to run for Minister. With what Draco had been doing… She could try to become the British magical world's leader by the time she was thirty.
"Would you really help me?" she whispered then, looking up at him in awe. "You could run for Minister yourself, you-"
Draco laughed, shaking his head. "Even if I wouldn't mind being in a position of power, and politics do intrigue me, I think being a businessman would suit me best. You might've noticed, that I'm quite good at making deals," he winked. "So when you stand here, asking me if I would help you, I want you to get in that thick skull of yours, that we're in this together. You. Me. Harry. I'll always have both of your backs, no matter what."
Overwhelmed by the events of the past two days, and of his unwavering support and protection of both her and Harry throughout the years, she somehow found the Gryffindor courage to do something she'd been wanting to do for a very long time. Ever since the night of the Yule Ball.
Even when he teasingly called her a silly goose for ever doubting that he would help her, she didn't waver from her path. She gently took his face in her hands and drew him closer.
"Thank you," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Draco just blinked at her for a second, momentarily taken aback. She'd made him speechless. Then, a boyish grin appeared on his face. "You're welcome, Mione."