The Astronomy Tower - June, 1997

Albus Dumbledore would definitely say he had seen better days. For at this particular moment, he was frail. He was severely weakened. He was slightly disoriented. But none of that changed the fact that he was no coward nor a fool.

So as he stood on the deck of Astronomy Tower with Draco Malfoy standing before him with his wand at the ready and Harry Potter witnessing the scene from beneath them, he was very much aware of the situation at hand.

He had been preparing for this day for a very long time, after all.

"I don't want your help. Don't you understand? I have to do this. I have to kill you—" Draco quivered. The moment he had been dreading for all year had finally come. His left hand clenched in a firm fist and the grip on his wand tightened as his mark ached, sensing his antipathy.

The elder wizard watched him with his tired, old eyes; he smiled sadly at him.

"—or he's gonna kill me." His voice broke as a tear forced its way out, not for the first time that evening.

The news of their beloved headmaster spread quickly once his body was found the following morning. Outrage and fear was dispersed among the staff and students alike.

All were in mourning.

Hermione and Ron discovered the truth at daybreak when they located Harry at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Hermione, as usual, was the one to approach him first.

"Do you think he would have done it? Draco?" She asked hesitantly.

"No…no he was lowering his wand. In the end, it was Snape." He said, disheartened. "It was always Snape."

She let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding.

Malfoy Manor - July, 1997

Draco was familiar with Professor Burbage. In fact, he distinctly remembered being absolutely repulsed when he heard the other extra curricular classes had been filled and he still had an open slot. It wasn't his fault he was late to sign up. He blamed it on Harry who happened to 'bump into him' one day. This resulted in them having a bit of a spat in the middle of the courtyard, landing them both in detention in the middle of class sign ups. In spite of the subject matter, he knew skipping class of any kind was out of the question if he were to avoid any unwanted backlash from his parents.

He reluctantly sat through the lessons and eventually progressed to listening to every other word as opposed to strictly focusing on his doodles. He had gathered enough from the lectures to pass the class with a decent grade. Muggles led an...interesting life, as he would best describe it. Professor Burbage did have a unique way of making muggles and magical folk seem similar. Instead of prolonging a plain-spoken hatred towards muggles, he came to discover that he did not care about the differences all that much. They were just people who did things a little differently. While he certainly preferred his way of living, he thought it was rather unnecessary to hate people who didn't use magic for everything. He still couldn't see himself being friends with one.

Muggles had these odd inventions that included large buses that could fly, mechanisms that provided consistent light and something called 'chemistry'. He was pleasantly surprised to find that they also read books which had to mean they were somewhat intelligent...right?

If anything, it was nice to have accurate information to confirm most of the information he was originally told about muggles was slightly exaggerated.

He immediately shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind, knowing occlumency would not save him from the Dark Lord if he was made aware of his indifference to their views. Closing his mind from another's view was something he was very experienced in, for he had implemented the ability successfully many times in just the last year. But he knew the Dark Lord could easily force his way in if provided the temptation.

He supposed that was a perk of basically being a creation of the dark arts.

"Severus, we're friends," she pleaded. His godfather's face remained cold and calculated as it usually did even as a colleague of his begged for mercy. To this day, Draco did not know how he did it. How he could successfully look two opposing sides in the eye and convince them both he was on their side all while lying to one.

The young wizard still didn't know which side he was on.

The killing curse left the Dark Lord's mouth like it was part of his everyday vocabulary. Draco jumped in his seat as his past professor's lifeless body fell to the table, a resounding thud echoing off the walls of their magnificent dining room.

"Nagini..." he cooed endearingly. How someone as menacing as the Dark Lord was capable of affection baffled him. The fact that it was towards a cold-blooded murderous creature unsettled him even more.

"... dinner. "

He watched apprehensively as the large snake appeared and slithered across the very same table where he used to have his favorite meals. Nagini's beady eyes flashed with intent as she eyed the corpse of his dead professor.

Draco went to bed that night with an empty stomach.

Luchino Caffe - August, 1997

"So what are we gonna do with you, eh? You'd kill us if it were turned around, wouldn't you?" Ron spoke darkly as he glared at the petrified figure of Dolohov laying by his feet.

"If we kill them, they'd know we were here," Harry argued.

"Ron…" She was in disbelief. They were actually talking about killing people like it was nothing serious. Had the world gone mad?

"Suppose he did Mad-Eye. How would you feel then?" He retorted angrily.

Hermione shifted her eyes between Ron and Harry. She supposed they did have a point.

This was war, after all.

12 Grimmauld Place - August, 1997

Harry's scar was still burning. He had left the bathroom and retreated to the living room a while ago but the pain was lingering longer than usual. He could still see the image;

A blond Death Eater on the floor, screaming and writhing, and a slighter figure standing over him, wand outstretched...

"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time...You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure...Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

A log fell in the fire; flames reared, their light darting across a terrified, pointed white face —

Harry's gut lurched for the third time that night as Malfoy's worn and horrified expression refused to leave his mind.

There was a sharp creak on the cushion beside him but Harry was still startled as Hermione's voice rang out.

"Harry, is everything alright?"

The images were suddenly jerked away from his sight, letting him see Hermione through his wary eyes. She seated herself next to him, watching him with her own concerned gaze. His mind told him 'yes' while his instinct said 'no'. 'Yes' because it was his problem and he did not want her to worry any more than she already did. 'No' because she was concerned and certainly had a right to know, especially as his friend.

He could hear the sound of teeth being brushed in the bathroom across the hall.

He sighed, "No...I need to tell you something."

Instinct won tonight.

Flourish and Blotts Bookseller - August, 1997

Bellatrix took Draco with her on an isolated raid to Diagon Alley in search for miscellaneous items and to 'wreak necessary havoc' as the Dark Lord-so-called it. It was almost as if the Dark Lord was testing the loyalties of all his followers as of late. Even Bellatrix had become more merciless if that were even possible. It was like they had to prove themselves all over again.

Thankfully, she seemed to have a soft spot for her dear nephew, lately. He supposed she felt they shared a deeper connection when she began his occlumency training last year. Luckily for him, he had always been an exceptional student, so naturally he worked hard to excel at the skill. She took great pride in her pupil, it seemed. He reckoned she was also proud of him for executing the torture curse so well for his first time the other night.

He neglected to tell her he pictured someone else at the end of his wand.

Halfway through the night, they managed to obtain most of the items they were instructed to acquire. Next on their list was the first edition of Hogwarts: A History from Flourish and Blotts.

Of course it was just his luck that the bookstore wasn't empty.

The girl was already gravely wounded and immobilized when they found her. Her straight, black hair covered her face, her limbs rested in odd angles, a pool of blood gathered beneath her. The cruciatus curse had been implemented multiple times. More than she could count. Her limbs roared in anguish and her insides felt like they were torn apart.

Death was imminent.

His silver eyes widened in horror when he spotted the book they were searching for; it happened to be placed on the shelf behind her. As if to seal her fate, Bellatrix cackled before she imperio-ed her, carelessly waving her wand in the air to throw the weakened girl against a nearby bookshelf.

The blond winced when her back hit the shelf with a shout before slumping to the floor. He couldn't take his focus off of her. She seemed familiar.

In his daze, he briefly heard the words 'grab the book' and 'have fun with the mudblood' before she stepped out. He assumed Bellatrix had gone on to loot the remaining necessary items as they had fallen behind schedule.

Ignoring the book for now, he walked over to the area where the girl had been thrown.

He grimaced when he realized he did know her, her face now visible after she was relocated. She was indeed a muggleborn. A year younger than him from Hufflepuff, he recalled. She was one of the few he and his fellow Slytherin friends taunted relentlessly. But this was beyond empty threats and meaningless pranks. She wasn't even the one who received the worst of his cruelty.

Not even close.

Now that he was closer, he could make out the bruises on her legs and rips in her skirt. He thought of the blood she sat in when they found her and the lack of significant cuts on her skin. Draco felt his stomach drop as the reality of his aunt's words hit him.

Have fun with the mudblood...

He graciously praised his decision to not eat anything today.

"Please, I—I just want this to end," she begged quietly. She could see the dissension in his eyes the second they stepped foot in the store.

She was suffering.

He knew what he had to do.

Kneeling in front of her, he reached out his hand to her face to hold her cold cheek in his slightly warmer palm. He wiped a tear away and swallowed his internal conflict. Compassion was something he hadn't let himself feel before. Not that it was ever an an option.

That was why it shocked him to his core to suddenly feel such a thing. It was also why the words he desperately wanted to say would not come out.

"I—" his voice wavered.

I'm sorry. For everything.

She inhaled sharply. Either from the pain or acknowledgement of what he was trying to say, he was not sure.

When she smiled, he knew it was the latter.

"I know. It's alright, Malfoy." She leaned into his touch.

He decided he could live with that and found himself able to speak once more.

"Sleep well," he said, softly.

He remained firm. He continued to hold her head up as he reached for his wand with his right. Without another wasted second, he took aim as he muttered the spell he had dreaded to cast for so long.

The words came out perfectly as she fell limp in his hold.

Forest of Dean - September, 1997

Harry winced in pain as he raised himself from the ground. He rubbed a tender spot on his head before turning his attention to the desperate pleas a short distance away from him.

"Shhh, shh, it's okay. You'll be okay," Hermione tearfully cried as Ron screamed in pain. Her hands shook as she loosened his tie, struggling to provide instructions at Harry while she stripped his upper half to get to his arm.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she fought with his clothes. She could hear every other frantic word coming from Harry and responded to him in broken sentences. Harry did as he was instructed and continued to watch in amazement as Hermione worked to maintain her composure while fixing Ron's wound. She had a drive he could never understand. Her attention to detail and her resourcefulness and the way she acted quickly on her feet.

She never failed to astonish him. She always stepped in without a second thought to help or assist when needed and the outcome was more often than not better than expected. She also wore her heart on her sleeve and assumed the best in people. But that was just who she was. She was ambitious. She was brave. She was caring. She was bloody brilliant.

She was Hermione Granger.

She was more than just the brightest witch of her age.

She was going to be the most accomplished witch of their generation.

Malfoy Manor - March, 1998

He remembered the times as a child when he would jump for joy at the chance of being chosen for something, basking in the glory of being recognized. Being needed. And now, he was in the middle of his own home, with his parents watching his every move, his childhood rivals either on their knees or incapacitated with all the attention was him. Everything he had dreamed for was right in front of him.

So why was he hesitating?

"I can't-I can't be sure." Harry furrowed his brow.

Draco recognized him as soon as they brought him into his home. He only had further confirmation when the travelers who were captured alongside him were dragged in as well.

Why are you here?

Words became a blur as he struggled mentally with himself. Everyone was talking to him all at once. Except he didn't hear any of them. It was too loud. The only thing he could focus on was the mangled face of Harry bloody Potter in front of him. All he could think about was—

" —what's wrong with his face? "

"Yes, what is wrong with his face?" Aunt Bella repeated. He hadn't realized he spoken aloud. He heard her footsteps as she walked away to Ron and Hermione. Draco continued to survey Harry's face critically. Confusion was still evident on the latter's expression, clearly trying to understand the blond's hesitation. Before either could contemplate any further, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Mother.

Draco reluctantly got back on his feet, keeping his head down to decide what to do from here. He knew a while ago his loyalties were never truly to the Dark Lord and that they never have been. He knew that long before he took the mark. He wanted this war to be brought to an end. He wanted that madman to be stopped. He also knew for that to happen, Harry Potter had to make it out of his home — alive. Next thing he heard was Bellatrix's loud, shrieking voice. She was incandescent.

"Cissy, put the boys in the cellar. I want to have a conversation with this one... girl to girl. "

Draco felt his blood run cold.

"I'm going to ask you again; where did you get this sword? Where ?" Bellatrix hissed into her ear.

"We found it — we found it — PLEASE!" Hermione begged hysterically.

"You are lying, Mudblood! You have been inside my vault! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

Hermione's screams vibrated through the halls of Malfoy Manor as she felt the blade cutting into her skin, her blood seeping through the freshly placed wounds.

In between screams, she thought she could hear Ron shouting her name from the cellar. Before she could dwell any further she heard the deranged witch shout, followed by excruciating pain.

It was as if her limbs were trying to separate themselves from her body...her nerves being tugged and tangled...her blood beginning to boil under her skin.

She had never felt such agony.

She wanted to be numb.

She wanted to be dead.

"No STOP! It's a copy, just a copy! Please!" she found herself shouting. Bellatrix paused her torment.

"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!" A sadistic grin grew across her lips. "But we will find out." She looked to Wormtail. "Get the goblin. He can tell us if it is a copy or not," she commanded easily. He made haste to the cellar. Bellatrix huffed as she stood and walked off to further inspect the sword.

Hermione's tearful gaze shifted to where she had been using her arm as a sheet of parchment.

-MUDBLOOD-

Hermione looked up to the black clad figure out of the corner of her eye. He was standing on the other side of the room across from her.

Their eyes met.

He looked worse than he did that day in the bathroom, she thought. This time was dressed in that pristine black suit he was notorious for wearing on an average day. He must have had a new one tailored to fit his slim figure. Well...slimmer.

On the outside, he was the alluring picture of elegance and magnificence. But with his fractured wall in place, she could see the shadow of a man on the verge of breaking.

Hermione concluded the torture session must have made her delirious. Otherwise she wouldn't have thought she saw regret in his gaze. Not to mention the message she managed to catch before he shut her out again;

Why did it have to be you?

Heavy breaths were expelled as the frantic spell casting grew to an immediate halt.

One pair with their wands up, the other tossing theirs to the floor in surrender. Next thing he knew, those wands were in his pale hands and everyone was focusing their attention on him again.

"Call him." Draco heard her sinister voice say. He grew pale as his aunt looked at him expectantly. He had never had to use his mark to summon Voldemort before. Thankfully, everyone else took his apparent unease to be due to inexperience rather than reluctance.

Lucius recognized the discomfort he displayed and stood in front of him to take his place, holding his arm outward.

As the elder Malfoy rolled up his sleeve, the younger one's eyes shifted to the curly haired witch in his aunt's clutch. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he eyed the blade at her own. The tension was written clearly on the majority of the room's occupants. Even his mother seemed apprehensive.

He needed to do something.

He needed a miracle.

The pale blond did notice that while her eyes were fixed at the ceiling above, she looked...hopeful?

Then he heard it. The sound of metal squeaking softly. From above. He let his gaze tear away from her face to the sizable, luxurious light fixture hovering above them.

He wanted to cry in relief when he saw Dobby, their wonderfully loyal house-elf who left them years ago, straddled about the base of the chandelier. The more he turned the mount, the louder the squeaking became. While everyone else's gaze turned upwards to locate the source, his came back down alongside hers so that determined grey eyes met pleading, brown ones. He hoped the message was clear.

Get ready to run.

The chandelier fell.

Glass and crystal dispersed to every corner of the room.

Blurs occurred as people scattered away from the epicenter.

Screams of outrage and pain intermingled.

Brown eyes searched for red hair, collapsing in his arms.

Frantic hands lunged at the blond as they reached for the wands in his blood drenched hands.

Chaos had ensued.

Angry curses were shouted.

A stunning spell was cast. Twice.

A sharp crack was heard.

They disapparated.

Draco ignored the shard of glass embedded in his cheek and the blood staining his favorite suit.

He was relieved — they escaped.

There was still a chance.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - May, 1998

The protective shields were put up. The giant army was called upon. But it was no use.

The shields had been breached.

The death eaters were taking over.

Walls were broken down.

Blood was spilled.

A place once full of youth, promise and security was crumbling to the ground.

All it took was a conversation about house-elves.

They were plotting the next method of attack as they stood in the middle of a war zone. Their next stop was the room of requirement to find the lost diadem before Ron remembered about the house elves.

"Hang on a moment!" said Ron sharply. "We've forgotten something."

"What? What is it now?" Hermione asked frantically.

"The house-elves! They'll all be down in the kitchen! We need to tell them to get out! We don't want any more Dobbies, do we? We can't order them to die for us —"

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was a genius idea. Before she knew what she was doing, she dropped basilisk fangs and ran to Ron before she flung herself on him to kiss him harshly. Ron dropped the items in his hands in response and wrapped his own arms around her, kissing her back with the same intensity.

"Is this really the time?" Harry asked incredulously.

Honestly, house-elves.

All it took was a conversation about house-elves.

He had hoped after fixing the vanishing cabinet that he would never have to be in this room again. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had given him a new task. He took this as an opportunity to seek out Harry, never once crossing his mind to actually turn him in to Voldemort. He honestly just wanted space from him breathing down his neck. Coincidentally, Crabbe and Goyle were assigned to assist him in the case that Harry had backup. That was a fair assumption considering he had heard from Granger herself that she would love nothing more than to hex him.

Such a fiery little Gryffindor.

Unbeknownst to him, a slight smirk had appeared on his face. As soon as it appeared, it vanished. He hoped his accomplices hadn't noticed. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle were aware of his treasonous change of heart. That mildly complicated things but it didn't matter. After he found Snape to be dead by the fangs of Nagini, he was going to stand up for himself for once.

He was going to be the double crosser.

He was going to do his part in ending this war the right way.

He just had to wait for the right moment.

They explored the cluttered room, wandering around aimlessly until they found the person they had been searching for.

On with the show…

"Well, well..." he heard himself say. "—what brings you here, Potter?"

Hermione let out a lighthearted laugh as Ron chased down the three intruders through the maze of lost items.

His girlfriend.

That did have a nice ring to it.

"We can't leave them." Harry yelled. Hermione nodded agreeably.

"He's joking, right?" she heard Ron yell from behind her.

Hermione rolled her eyes as they made a U-turn at the next stack of clutter, making a beeline for the two wizards currently holding onto a shelf with their lives.

"—there's a reason I can hear them. The horcruxes."

"I'll go with you." she cried.

"No, kill the snake. Kill the snake and then it's just him." Harry hugged Hermione tightly. He looked over her shoulder to Ron.

Take care of her.

Keep her safe.

Put her back together when I'm gone.

The Chosen One was dead.

Harry Potter was dead.

He was too late.

"Draco." His father's voice hissed across the courtyard.

His heart dropped when he felt the crowds of eyes falling on him. He tried to ignore the first pair of eyes to place him. He blamed it on his distinguishable hair colour — despite it being muddled in dirt and debris. Swallowing his pride, he made his choice. Deciding if the good wasn't going to win this war, he was going to at least die being loyal to his family.

He was a Malfoy, after all.

He walked sheepishly towards his parents, Voldemort pulling him into an awkward hold. It was like he hadn't given anyone a hug before.

"Well done, Draco ." The Dark Lord's tone was taunting as if to prove a point. To show he could have anyone he wanted with the power he held. To show that he was unstoppable now.

I'm not doing it for you, he thought as he continued to his parents. He walked past his father and immediately went for the person standing next to him.

He let his mother's arms wrap around his shoulders, a version of sorrow on her face. If he didn't know earlier he was on the wrong side, he was sure of it now. Although, something didn't sit right with him.

His mother.

She had seemed...off. She was sad, or seemed that way initially. There was a confidence he recognized in her. Like she knew something. Then he realized; she wasn't happy when Voldemort declared victory.

She was determined.

"Mother —" he whispered as he narrowed his eyes at her. "What did you —"

Befuddlement grew as the crowd clamored. He turned his head to the middle of the courtyard where attention was centered, catching the signature smirk on his mother's face along the way.

He was alive.

Harry Potter was alive.

Ministry of Magic - May, 1998

The war was over. Lord Voldemort was killed and his surviving followers either turned themselves in, disappeared or killed themselves in holding.

Harry and Hermione stood in front of Courtroom Ten, awaiting their turn.

"He saved us that night, Harry."

"I know he did. His mother saved me, too. When she declared me to be dead. And I still don't know why."

"You know what we have to do."

"Yeah, I believe I do."

"Good luck in there, 'Mione."

She smiled sweetly. "Thank you. I'll see you after the trial." Hermione leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on the lips before turning and proceeding towards the doors to Courtroom Ten. His eyes moved to the enchanted sign above the doors;

D. Malfoy

Ron sighed. He knew it was the right thing for them to do. But he couldn't shake off the growing heaviness in his chest the further she walked away from him.

"We hereby find the defendant, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, guilty of all charges—"

The Minister's lips were still moving but everything was silent. Draco had stopped listening, slid his eyes shut and let out the breath he was holding.

He had heard enough.

12 Grimmauld Place - June, 1998

"I'm alright Ronald, really." She shivered. She thought it was from nerves. Or the lack of clothing.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" He asked, uncertain.

"Yes. Yes, I'm properly sure."

She exhaled shakily as he lowered her delicate figure on the bed sheets.

Malfoy Manor - June, 1998

Narcissa Malfoy stood in her kitchen, magically heating the kettle of water while fetching two mugs from the cabinet above. "Your father is going to be in Azkaban for a while."

"I know." His voice lacked any emotion. His focus remained on the large cake in front of him, along with the unopened letter stamped from the prison.

She turned her face half way until he appeared in her peripheral line of sight. "Your Auntie Bella was killed during the battle." There was no remorse in her tone. The silence lingered between them. Enough time had passed for her to be certain he wasn't going to respond. Then he spoke.

"Good." Draco could've sworn he saw a smile appear on his mother's face before she turned back to tend to their tea.

12 Grimmauld Place - July, 1998

Ron was pacing in his bedroom as Hermione read her newly received letter from Professor McGonagall for the fifth time.

"Are you sure about this 'Mione? I could support you, you know. With my job, I could provide for you. We could be together while you find a job." he didn't see what the problem was. In his eyes, it was the perfect opportunity for them to move on from the war. They could start living their lives, finally have peace, maybe even start a family one day. There was only one problem...

"Ronald, we never completed our seventh year. You of all people should know that I want to finish school properly. I'm glad you and Harry decided to move on in becoming aurors but I want more than that. I want more than being known for the 'brains of the Golden Trio'. I want to do something for myself...on my own." she spoke firmly.

Ron let her words sink in. She could tell he was internally debating with himself on his next statement. "Am I good enough for you, Hermione?"

Her jaw hit the floor.

She knew things had been tense ever since that night but she didn't think it would get to this point so quickly.

"Don't be daft, Ronald—"

"Don't 'Ronald' me, answer the question." He quipped.

Her breath hitched, "Please..."

"I love you, Hermione. I do—" he started.

"Ron, no—"

"But we were in the middle of a war and didn't have the chance to really think it through."

"Don't do this—" She was crying.

"We both know you want more than what I can give you." So was he.

"We should talk about this. I can wait on school—"

"No, 'Mione. You know you need to go. I want you to be happy. I do." He was crestfallen. "—but I need to be happy, too."

Malfoy Manor - July, 1998

"Darling, are you sure you want to go back? You were already pardoned by the ministry to begin working with them. Mister Potter and Miss Granger's testaments were more than enough to prove your innocence. You could start your life anew."

"I need to go back. I need to finish what I started before I can move on."

She watched him carefully.

Unbeknownst to her, he had received a similar letter weeks ago but never responded. This was the second one; the one saying he needed to respond soon or he would have to forfeit his spot in the upcoming year.

For the first time, it was him making the decision for himself. He sighed, "It's what I want."

Her gaze lingered on him, "If you're sure, darling." She spoke slowly. As if she were testing him. He appeared to be at peace with himself for the first time in years.

He looked up to meet her gaze and spoke with conviction.

"I'm sure, mother."

A/n: Epilogue? What epilogue? :D