May, 2001
Draco Malfoy never loved her.
Hermione stood in front of Malfoy Manor. The Daily Prophet hanging from her hand by her side. It had been two years since she left the Manor. Twice longer than the entire time she lived there. It was never truly her home. Not really.
It was hard to decipher what parts were a lie. The mornings he held her or the nights when he had her. The way his breath would kiss her skin. How her skin would scream for his touch. The sweet confessions he would whisper into her hair and the filthy things he would groan into her mouth. If she wasn't there for it herself, she wouldn't believe there was a single moment of truth.
"Hermione," Anthony's cautious voice called out from behind her.
The day was here. Perhaps it wasn't his fault. She had been hardly more than a curse to him.
"Hermione, come on. You're too close. You'll trigger the wards," Anthony tried again.
"The wards start back there," Hermione called over her shoulder.
Anthony was still standing at the apparation point several feet behind where she stood within the grounds of the estate.
There is no blow quite like reality. It was never going to be her. There was a time that she knew that, but she let herself believe the was worse to believe it was never a lie. That what they had was magical and she broke it. Tore them both apart with her own failures, piece by piece.
The Manor looked larger from the outside. Dementors still drifted in the surrounding sky. Draco's window faced the back, but Hermione could identify the large windows of Narcissa's solar room. Were they going to be Astoria's now?
"How did you know I'd be here?" Hermione asked, still staring ahead.
"This is the only place you want to be since we left," Anthony answered plainly. "But we can't stay here. Someone could arrive any moment."
He was right. She wasn't certain she would put up a fight if someone did.
Hermione took slow steps backwards. Stealing every glimpse she could. When she turned to Anthony, she found him staring at the manor with the same longing she had. He had found love in there too, she remembered.
"Was any of it real?" asked Hermione, memorizing each brick.
Anthony sighed. "I don't know."
Hermione dropped the Daily Prophet on the ground to grab Anthony's arm. The image of their engagement announcement showed Draco stoically looking forward while Astoria looked from the camera to up at him. Astoria had just looked her in the eyes and smiled one more time as Anthony disapparated them away.
The safehouse was one of the sadder structures the Order utilized. It was private enough and close to the city. The surrounding houses had all been abandoned.
Ron was walking around from the back of the house when they appeared. The tension was clear in his face and shoulders and Hermione hurried inside.
Ron yelled. "Bloody hell, Hermione. What were you thinking? Disappearing like that!"
"Ease off, Ron," said Anthony.
Hermione hurried inside and up the stairs to the room she and Parvati were staying in. Ron raced behind her. The room was dirty with dust and debris. They had to set up their own cots to sleep on but even with the charms they were still uncomfortable. Hermione tried to close the door behind her but Ron followed her in.
"Hermione, talk to me," Ron said, frustrated.
There was no way he would understand. It would only expose how stupid and pathetic she was. Ron wouldn't give up, and she got herself trapped in the room with no escape.
"I just needed a moment," Hermione confessed as monotone as she could manage. "After seeing the Daily Prophet."
Ron eased. Nodding slightly in understanding. When he looked at her it was with compassion instead of anger. "You did what you had to do to survive. You don't have to feel guilty."
"Guilty?" Hermione questioned.
Ron shrugged. "It's just… you were the never the type to be involved in an affair."
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
"I wasn't the other person," Hermione snapped back.
Magic prickled in her fingertips, and she pushed it back down before she did something stupid.
"She's his fiancé." Ron usually folded by now, but he kept his ground. The way he spoke was void of judgment, but that didn't make it sting any less.
Hermione scoffed. "As of this morning."
"They've been together for years."
That was enough. It was exactly why she had no one to talk to. No one who would understand.
"You don't know what you're talking about", she said, pushing him out of the way of the door.
"Hermione wait- talk to me," Ron begged.
"Why on earth should I talk to you?!"
"Because I'm your friend!" Ron shouted at her. The breaking in his voice made her pause. Made it so she could no longer ignore him or brush him off. "Because I love you. And since you got back, you've behaved like Draco Malfoy is the only person on this earth who knows you. Who sees you. When you have an entire family full of people who would die for you!"
The way he spoke now was coming from a place that Hermione didn't allow herself to feel in a long time. Hearing Ron say his name was like someone blasted through her walls and left her exposed. They never talked about Malfoy. Not directly.
Not since Theo. Malfoy's reputation started to escalate. He was getting more ruthless, unpredictable. Those she could forgive. But when late night gossip started to revolve around Malfoy and Zabini's promiscuous behavior, Hermione refused to believe it. Not until one of the new recruits she interviewed confessed an encounter with him personally, and Hermione stumbled into the memory when she was searching her mind.
"I'm sorry you lost Malfoy-"
"Stop it."
"But you're not alone," Ron insisted, grabbing her shoulders, and forcing her to look at him. "I am sure whatever it is you had was special. but I think you need to understand that a large part of that special is because the other person involved was you."
There was once a time that she believed she was special. If she studied well enough. Practiced enough. Fought bravely and gallantly for the right side. As long as she said all the right things and didn't ask the wrong questions.
Ron loosened his grip slightly. "And you don't need Malfoy to be… you."
Hermione wanted that to be true. A part of her thought she would be better off if whatever it was with Draco never happened, but she could never let it go.
"It wasn't like that," Hermione said, and it sounded like a confession. A truth so tiny it was hardly anything, but it was all she had to give.
Ron nodded, sincerely. "Okay."
Maybe he believed her, maybe not. Perhaps it didn't have to matter.
"Okay."
August 2001
"This seems reckless," mumbled Parvati.
There were plenty of people walking along Diagon Alley. Hermione and Parvati kept an eye on them through the window of the shop. It had only been a few months that the Order and Voldemort's Army came to an agreement that Diagon Alley, along with a few select muggle locations, would become neutral zones. If either side engaged in an altercation, they would be forfeited to the enemy. Hermione didn't trust it anymore then Parvati did. Death Eaters were hardly known for being honorable.
"It's sort of nice," Hermione said walking closer to the window.
The alley had been cleaned up and restored in the past couple of months. A ploy for Voldemort to get more people on his side, no doubt. By the condition of the shops and the optimism of the owners, Hermione was afraid to admit that it was working.
There was a stack of Daily Prophets in a bin and Hermione picked one off the top. The cover page was a candid photo of Draco and Astoria walking down Diagon Alley just that morning. Draco looked like he was chiseled from stone. The bones in his cheeks prominent and gaze hard and haunting. Cold and murderous compared to Astoria's innocent smile.
Greatness Returned to Diagon Alley!
Draco Malfoy accompanied his betrothed, Astoria Greengrass, meander along the shops and merchants on their way to Gringotts Wizarding Bank to complete the conditions of their betrothal contracts. The Marriage Rite, only a few weeks away, is planned to be held at Hogwarts in honor of the Dark Lord-
"Great news. Isn't it?" the sales associate said, cheerily. "Weddings again. Feels like things may go back to normal."
"Feels like a bunch of bullshit," Parvati snarked. "Voldemort just wants to distract."
Hermione set the paper down and returned to looking through the rows.
"There are garments called dresses, over there," the associate said pointing to a rack by the counter. "If you'd prefer them, Miss. Granger. Madam Malkin's provides clothes to all. For all occasions."
Hermione smiled and walked over. It was hard to decipher what side people were on these days. Most were just trying to make it through the day.
"That's pretty," Parvati said.
Hermione looked at the blue dress appreciatively. "It is. Not very practical though."
"You need some clothes for when you are off duty," Parvati said. "Maybe people will start honoring your personal time."
Hermione snorted. "Big maybe."
When she was younger, she often wore dresses in the summer. At Hogwarts she preferred a uniform skirt over trousers. It just seemed so impractical now. It would be harder to run or fight without her knickers showing.
"I suppose it wouldn't take up too much room," Hermione said, settling on a blue sundress and adding it to the practical trousers and shirts already in her arm.
"Really?! Well, if you are getting one," Parvati said, starting to look more intently.
Hermione chuckled as she approached the counter to pay.
"All set?" the associate asked.
"Yes, please," Hermione said, handing over the last of her items.
The associate waved her wand over the garments and a charmed quill recorded each item in her book of sales.
"That will be 100 galleons."
Hermione choked. "Pardon?"
"Sorry. But with the war… goods have gotten more limited," the associate started to explain.
"No- no it's fine I just…" Hermione only had about fifty galleons on her. She would have to pop over to Gringotts to get the rest.
Oh God.
What if they were still there? They could walk out just as she walked in.
"You could use your wand to charge your Gringotts vault, if you'd like Miss Granger?" the associate offered helpfully.
Hermione sighed with relief. "Yes, of course. Just show me where."
She instructed her how to wave her wand over the sales book and Hermione felt the spell engage.
The associate inhaled sharply through her nose and she read over a message that appeared. Christ. She had enough to cover it, didn't she? She hadn't pulled a sickle out of her vault in years. Admittedly, her parents had set her up quite handsomely before they lost their memories.
The sales associate cleared her throat before glancing back up with a tight smile. If she didn't know better, Hermione would think she was nervous. "Which vault would you like to charge?"
"Uh… sorry-?"
"Hermione, what do you think of this one?" Parvati asked, holding up a dress and looking at the tag. "Oh god. Never mind."
Hermione turned back to the counter. "Oh um… the normal one?"
With a tight nod, the associate tapped the book and then the garment back shrunk to pocket size and levitated over to Hermione.
"Thank you," Hermione said, walking out of the shop.
"Our Pleasure, madam."
Hermione pocketed the bag as they headed a couple blocks down to meet up with the others who were standing post. Neutral zone or not.
"Ready to head back to the house?" asked Hermione hastily, eager to get out of the open.
Ron thought for a moment. "Thinking we should head to Belfast. Mum said she heard the Death Eaters were showing more interest there."
All eyes were on Hermione. Lucky for them, she would rather be anywhere else.
They spent the day erecting what protective spells they could over the residential buildings. There were so many people displaced and loitering in the streets. Muggles and magical folks were difficult to tell apart. Occasionally, there would be someone dressed in dress robes. The city refused magical boundaries and Death Eaters could strike at any moment. The people who lived there seemed like they came to accept that reality.
It was a curious thing when danger became mundane. Hermione reckoned she preferred the fear. At least then it was clear that some people wanted to live.
"Let's pop in here, just for a tick," Parvati gestured towards a building.
Hermione, Ron and Dean followed tightly behind her. No one can detect a pub quite like that girl.
The place was so crowded she nearly hoped they would want to turn around and leave, but Parvati approached a pair of girls at a large table, and they excitedly scooted over to let them join.
"Thanks for letting us crash!" Ron said to the red headed girl. He took the last seat next to them while Hermione and the others sat on the other side.
"More the merrier," the girl cheered; her cheeks flushed from alcohol. "I'm called Isla!"
"Ron," smiled Ron back.
Dean leaned over to speak to her friend. "And you are?"
They indulged more than they should have. It was clear that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon once the third round appeared. People would frequent in and out from the street. Some stayed to have a drink but most were looking for a spot of food to eat. Ron let it slip that he was a wizard and Hermione thought the fun was over. Isla and her friend – Marion – gave him time to explain. By the time they proved they didn't bare the mark and were part of the Order, the girls seemed more interested in them then before.
"So then," Ron continued slurring slightly. "Hermione had to spend three days in the hospital wing until she stopped coughing up furballs."
"Git," Hermione growled.
"I imagine magic probably isn't as easy as it seems," Isla said sweetly to Hermione.
"We've been a bit ambitious," Ron said, sharing a sly smile.
"Foolish, more-like. I swear you cost Gryffindor thousands of house points over the years," joked Dean.
"What's life without a little risk?" replied Ron and Hermione finally cracked a smile.
A gentle bump on her hand got her attention and she looked down to see a folded paper bird flap its wings and bump against her again.
Hermione snatched it and unfolded it quickly. The edge of the paper had a jagged tear and there was one word written in familiar handwriting.
RUN
"Time check," Hermione said immediately.
The reaction was immediate. Parvati casted a quick charm to detect if anyone bearing the dark mark was near. Ron kept his smile but also reached for his wand.
The adrenaline flooded Hermione as soon as the sparks exploded from Pavarti's wand.
"Hands!" Hermione shouted, grabbing Parvati's arm next to her and Ron's hand across the table. "Hands, Hands!"
Dean put his hand on top, holding Marion with the other while Ron gripped tightly onto Isla. Not another moment passed before they were disapparating, and as the world started to spin away, the last thing they saw was the tavern filled with flashes of green.
The team went back to the pub once the muggle girls were safe to help who they could, but the pub and surrounding building were left in ruins. Ron managed to convince the Advisory to let Isla stay at Potter house. He had to give up his room and bunk with George, but he was only too pleased to do so. Marion returned to her family in the outskirts of Belfast. Isla had no family to return to.
Hermione would be at Post Oxford for several weeks. The house was one of the most secured, and she was pleasantly surprised when Ginny arrived in the middle of the second week.
"I've got the cloak if you want it back," said Ginny as she emptied out her pack.
Hermione shook her head. "Keep it. You use it more than I would."
"I still don't understand how you manage to get around everywhere unseen," Ginny replied with a smile.
"I'm just good at blending in," Hermione shrugged off. "You should try it."
"Oh yes. Because nothing blends in quite like bright red hair," Ginny snorted. "It's not easy being Weasley."
Hermione chuckled. "God that terrible."
Ginny quickly sent her clothes to the bin to wash but put the cloak back in her pack. The room they were sharing only had one bed, but it was plenty large enough for them to sleep comfortably. Besides, it was nice to have someone so close.
They made their way down the narrow staircase to find Seamus, Ron, and several other order members arriving. They had brought along supplies and Hermione started to help empty the bags into the kitchen cabinets.
"Got a wee bit of fun for us in there," Seamus beamed nodding towards a bag to her right. "Brought in all the way from the Highlands."
Hermione breathed a laugh and started unwrapping the wrapping from the bottles. "I can feel the headache already."
Once the newspaper was unwrapped the inside picture caught her attention. It was a photo of Draco, walking alongside four hooded and masked Death Eaters looking murderous.
Fealty over Family: The Dark Lord's Favored to be Wed No Longer!
Hermione's eyes flew across the page. Based on the publishing date, the paper was over a week old.
"Bunch of rubbish, innit?" said Seamus when he noticed Hermione's interest in the paper. "The whole wedding was a farce. At least there'll be no mini-Malfoys if he never gets married."
Hermione swallowed down her feelings. "If the plan was to make people hopeful, why call the wedding off?"
"The Dark Lord giveth. The Dark Lord taketh away!" George chimed from across the room and the others laughed.
"Who cares. I'm just glad the Greengrass lass isn't stuck with that wanker. She was kind enough during school."
"Pft. The one in our year? She was trouble. Proper stunner."
"Not her. The kid sister. Hufflepuff. I think she was in Jordy's year?"
"Yeah. Astoria's nice. Bit posh. Hardly believed the Greengrass family was dark."
Ginny gave Hermione an empathetic look right before she set down the paper and left the room. When she walked outside, the air felt a little lighter than it had moments before.