Summary: When Draco Malfoy's heroic act throws him and Hermione Granger into a fractured timeline, they are granted a chance to rewrite their destinies. As they befriend Harry Potter, they must expose Dumbledore's misdeeds and prevent an impending war. In this new reality, their choices could either mend their world or tear it apart.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I love the HP universe but hate the author, who I believe is a bigot. Unfortunately, history is filled with crappy artists who have made talented works of art or literature. What can you do?

Author Notes: I wrote this about ten years ago and finally decided to edit the final draft. I plan to break it into seven books, but we'll see how that plays out.

CHAPTER ONE

The sky was clear, the grass crisp, and the sun blinding overhead—perfect weather for a memorial marking the war's first anniversary. Friends and family gathered tearfully on a small hill overlooking Hogwarts, grieving and remembering those lost a year ago.

From a distance, Draco Malfoy observed the crowd, a hint of remorse stirring within him. While he hadn't killed anyone, his role as a Death Eater placed him firmly on the wrong side of the war. And as Minister Shacklebolt's voice droned on, honoring those who had sacrificed their lives, Draco's attention wandered to the people who had been on the right side of things.

Molly Weasley clung to her husband's robes, sobbing as he held her tightly. George Weasley stood stoically beside them while his brother, Percy, and two other redheads—likely more Weasley brothers—tried to console their mother. Ginny Weasley was inconsolable as Harry Potter struggled to comfort her. But it was Ronald Weasley who caught Draco's eye. His focus wasn't on his family but on a tear-streaked brunette. Anger and longing flickered in his eyes—odd behavior, Draco thought, given that he assumed the two were a couple. Their body language, however, said otherwise.

Draco had little interest in the romantic lives of others, but his curiosity about Hermione Granger got the better of him. She was Muggle-born, defiant, and the embodiment of the truth he had come to accept—blood didn't matter. She had proved that brilliantly.

As the crowd thinned, Draco lingered, his eyes narrowing as he watched Hermione slip away. Moments later, Ron followed with a stormy expression darkening his face, setting Draco on edge. Something wasn't right. Torn between curiosity and an unexpected sense of concern, Draco followed at a distance, his footsteps silent as Ron trailed Hermione along the path toward a clearing not far ahead.

"Let go, Ron," Hermione demanded as Draco quietly approached the edge. He remained cloaked in the shadows of a nearby tree.

Ron's hand gripped Hermione's arm hard enough to make Draco's breath hitch. He knew Weasley had a temper, but would he really hurt her? The fear in Hermione's eyes, the sheen of sweat on her brow, and the slight tremble in her hand as she tried to push him away told Draco everything. Whether he had hurt her before didn't matter—he could now. Draco's grip tightened around his wand, torn between stepping in or watching it unfold from the shadows.

Ron shoved Hermione to the ground with a sneer. "I thought I meant something to you. I thought—" His voice cracked. "You're nothing but a filthy whore," he spat.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Ron," Hermione shot back, her voice low and dangerous as she scrambled to her feet.

Ron paced like a trapped animal, fists clenched. "It was supposed to be me, 'Mione. Not Fred. Not Viktor. Me!" He jabbed a finger into his chest, his voice rising to a roar.

Draco's brows arched in surprise. So, the golden girl wasn't as innocent as she appeared. Interesting, though he suspected there was more to the story. Ron always had a knack for jumping to conclusions—something even Draco had noticed over the years.

"Ronald." Hermione dusted herself off, her voice steady. "You honestly thought there'd be more between us? After you left? I need someone I can count on—someone who doesn't run the moment things get tough—"

"It was the locket, 'Mione! You know that!"

"No!" She cut him off, her voice rising. "You don't get to hide behind that excuse anymore. We all wore that bloody thing—Harry and I didn't quit, and we didn't walk away."

Hermione sighed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Draco noticed a crimson streak across her skin. Anger bubbled up inside him. Draco Malfoy had many faults—he was a snob, a former Death Eater, and a bigot—but he would never strike a witch in anger. His grip on his wand tightened further.

"You always pick Harry over me! It's always him," Ron's voice cracked with anger.

"Harry needed us, Ron. We had a war to win—"

"We were going in bloody circles, Hermione!"

"So, you just fucking quit?" Hermione's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. Ron started to argue, but she held up a hand. "Just go, Ron," she said, her voice tired now. "Your family needs you."

Ron's gaze locked with Hermione's as his jaw worked in anger. His lips parted slightly as though he was on the verge of speaking, but no words came. With a frustrated sigh, he spun on his heel and stormed off.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief and expected Hermione to do the same, but she remained, clutching herself as sobs racked her body. A strange urge to console her welled up in Draco as he took a step toward the clearing, but a branch snapped off to his left. Instinctively, he retreated into the shadows once more, waiting as Molly Weasley stepped into view. Hermione's face fell at the sight of her.

"It seems I was right about you all along, you little bitch," Molly growled.

"I… Mrs. Weasley… Molly—" Hermione stammered.

"Didn't I warn you not to come?"

Draco watched, his brow furrowing as unease coiled in his gut. His eyes flicked between the two. Something about the scene felt disturbingly wrong.

"Whatever you think, Mrs. Weasley, you're wrong about me and Harry. There's nothing between us. Harry and I are family. He's my brother. That's all we've ever been, and that's all we'll ever be. And I refuse to stay away because of Ginny's insecurities."

Molly chuckled coldly, her wand raised. "Oh, silly girl. Do you think I care about any of that?" Hermione's eyes widened as a flicker of realization dawned. "Ah, yes. It's starting to make sense now, isn't it?" Molly sneered. "You're not the only one who knows the truth. I've known for years. Dumbledore made sure of it. So, do you really think anyone will stand by you when I reveal your little secret? Even Harry, with all his loyalty, will see this as nothing but betrayal." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You could've saved yourself the trouble if you'd just made my son happy. I could have looked the other way, but now…"

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped Hermione. "You're out of your bloody mind."

"Am I, dear?"

"Absolutely," Hermione retorted.

Molly lowered her wand with an amused sneer, motioning for Hermione to explain. "Please. Enlighten."

Hermione's eyes flashed with fury as she unleashed her frustration. "Oh, I would be delighted. Where should I start? Oh, yes! Since you decided to bring up the subject of your wonderful son, let's start with that first, shall we?"

Molly's smirk fell immediately.

"For starters, you've done a stellar job of raising the world's most insecure man-child. Make him happy? He's a walking pity party in constant need of validation. Ron wouldn't know happiness if it came in a Howler and screamed in his face."

Hermione took a step forward, her anger flaring. "And let's not ignore his impulsiveness. He jumps head-first into things—be it danger or false accusations—and we're all dragged along for the ride because why the fuck not?"

She crossed her arms, her voice turning icy. "And his temper—oh, don't get me started there. It's like being around a cursed object that could explode at any moment. One minute, he's calm, and the next, he's throwing a tantrum like a toddler who doesn't get his way. Just like when he left us in the bloody forest or when Harry's name was put in the Goblet or when Crookshanks knew that bloody rat—there's too many to count."

Hermione met Molly's gaze, unflinching. "But the best part? You've enabled him. You've treated him like a fragile little prince, never challenging him or making him face any real consequences. So, let's give a round of applause for your incredible parenting skills, Molly. Bravo."

Hermione's hands came together in a slow, deliberate clap. The sound was sharp but measured, echoing in the tense silence that followed her words. Her eyes remained locked on Molly, her expression hard, lips curled in a bitter half-smile. Each clap felt like punctuation, as though she were mocking the moment with sarcastic applause.

"You bitch!" Molly growled menacingly.

"Shut up, you old cow. I'm not finished."

Draco's eyes widened with a mix of shock and amusement. He bit the inside of his cheek and quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, muffling a stifled snort. He dared not make a sound.

"Oh, don't worry, Molly. I'm going to tell Harry everything. Every last detail. Do you think he'll abandon me after all we've been through? After I stood by his side when it mattered? Please." Hermione rolled her eyes with an amused huff. "Or do you think Ginny can just bat her eyes and distract him enough to forget about me altogether? I mean, that was the plan, right? Keep him wrapped around her finger just enough to keep me out of the picture. Don't think I didn't notice how obsessed he became with her right after the war. Tell me—how much is she giving him? Just a drop, right? Just enough to keep him hooked, but not so much anyone would notice—"

"Enough!" Molly shouted. The woman's face twisted in anger, her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched, but for a brief moment, her eyes flickered with realization as the truth cut through the rage.

Nevertheless, the anger returned, colder and more resolute, hardening her features once more. She held her wand higher. "What's done is done. It doesn't erase the fact that you still exist. Dumbledore should have taken care of you ages ago."

Hermione's eyes went wide with panic as they flicked frantically across the ground, searching for her wand. Her breath quickened, heart racing, but before her fingers could even brush the handle, Molly had already muttered the incantation. Hermione's body stiffened as the spell collided with her before abruptly going limp. Her shoulders sagged, and her once fierce expression melted into something hollow. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a vacant, glassy stare that made Draco's stomach churn. The sight of her, so empty and defenseless, filled him with a sickening dread.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll let everyone grieve you properly. I'm not heartless," Molly simpered. The sickly, sweet smile on her lips fell. "Now, move."

Hermione moved sluggishly, her steps mechanical, as she drifted toward the opposite edge of the clearing. With each mindless shuffle, she inched closer to the ravine's sharp drop, which caused Draco's pulse to quicken.

Molly's eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction as Hermione shuffled closer, oblivious to the danger. But Draco couldn't wait any longer. Instinct kicked in.

Fight it, Granger, he silently willed her as he bolted forward without a second thought. His feet pounded the earth, and in his haste, his wand slipped from his grip, falling unnoticed to the ground. Even if he had noticed, he couldn't stop. Hermione was seconds away from death, and he was the only one who could reach her.

In a desperate burst of speed, Draco lunged at Hermione just as a streak of green light seared past his shoulder, narrowly missing them both. They tumbled over the edge, the world spinning violently as they plummeted toward the jagged rocks below. Draco wrapped his arms around her, clutching her tightly, his heart pounding as he realized his mistake—he had no wand to save them. He held her close, praying his body would shield her from the impact as Hermione's terrified scream ripped through the air.

Just once, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut, I'd give anything to make things right…