An:
I just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported this fanfiction. I show this by uploading a second chapter for you guys today!
Specifically, I want to thank FierceFern, Pauli Jean Malfoy, Satanmistressxoxo, etfonhome (love the name btw), Staruniverse127, and also a huge HUGE thank you to 'A fan' and MsAwsome2u for leaving reviews on the last couple chapters.
HAPPY READING,
xoxo PollyFairy123
Hermione and Draco wandered silently down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the night as they walked towards the public Floo network. The usual hustle and bustle of the magical marketplace had long since faded, leaving only a handful of stragglers lingering under the dim, flickering lights of shop windows.
"I, um," Draco began, clearing his throat nervously. "I saw you talking with McLaggen."
She tried to appear indifferent, masking the nervous flutter in her chest as she quickly tried to piece together what he might have seen.
"Yeah," she managed, her voice wavering slightly, "We were just catching up."
Draco nodded slowly, his gaze drifting thoughtfully into the distance. "I know it's none of my business," he said, pausing briefly, "but you seemed… quiet afterward."
"Me and him don't really get along," she shrugged, trying to make light of it.
"Honestly," Draco said, looking down towards her, "I never liked the bloke. Couldn't understand why Slughorn even bothered with him."
She laughed a little, her eyes meeting his.
"I'm serious," he said, his voice softening slightly. "Whatever he said isn't worth a second thought."
"Don't worry, I'm used to it," she said with a shrug.
"You are?" Draco asked, turning his head towards her.
Hermione hesitated, the ghost of Cormac's presence looming at the edge of her memory.
"He was my boyfriend," she said simply.
Draco's steps faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Hang on," he started. "You… Hermione Granger… dated McLaggen?" His voice was laced with disbelief. "I can't believe he managed to talk his way into that one."
A wry smile touched her lips, a hint of irony in her voice. "Yeah, me neither."
Draco's expression changed, his earlier amusement fading. "Did it end badly?"
"If a Disillusionment Charm, used to follow me home from work after I left the relationship, doesn't constitute 'bad terms,' then I'm at a loss for words," she said, with underlying anger flashing in her eyes as she relived the fear of the previous night.
Draco halted abruptly, his hand instinctively reaching out as if to touch her arm before retracting it. "When did this… when did this happen?" he asked.
"You don't have to worry about me. I took care of it," Hermione said firmly, meeting his gaze directly.
"You didn't answer my question," he said, his eyes searching hers.
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry under his intense scrutiny. "Last night."
"Yesterday?" Draco's jaw tightened, his voice edged with frustration. "Granger, you can't stay there."
"Please, Malfoy, it's fine," she insisted, her voice clipped.
Draco sighed, his hands falling to his sides, his expression softening slightly. "Why do you do this, Hermione? Why won't you let anyone help you?" he asked, his voice tinged with sadness.
Hermione's eyes widened slightly in surprise, her earlier anger fading. "Listen. I don't want to fight, Draco. I'm just so tired," she said, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled away from him.
"Granger," Draco said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly comforting. "It's not safe for you there."
"I… I don't know what to do," she stammered, her voice breaking slightly.
"Stay at one of my flats," Draco suggested. "I have one in the city center with a direct Floo connection. It's much safer than where you are now."
"Draco, I couldn't possibl—" she began, but he stopped her with a raised hand.
"As your partner, and as an Auror," Draco said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of underlying concern, "I insist."
Their eyes locked, an unspoken challenge hanging between them, as if both were silently daring the other to be the first to look away.
Finally, Hermione's gaze flickered away. "Fine," she conceded, her voice barely audible.
"My mother has loads of clothes," Draco said, turning to walk towards the Floo Network. "You're welcome to borrow some for tonight and for work tomorrow. It'll be much better than you going back there tonight."
As Draco led the way, Hermione was suddenly struck by the sheer exhaustion she'd been carrying all day. It hit her like a physical blow—the lingering fear from the previous night, the constant anticipation of Cormac's reappearance, the restless, broken sleep. Now, with every step further from her flat, a wave of relief washed over her, the tension draining from her body as she realized she was finally safe, at least for the night.
"Wait," she said hesitantly, her fingers lightly closing around his wrist to stop him.
Draco's eyes immediately fell to where her fingers touched his skin.
"Thank you," she breathed, the words escaping her in a rush, as if she'd been holding them in for far too long. "Just… thank you."
For a moment, Draco simply looked at her, his gaze softening, a gentle concern replacing the earlier tension. "I want to ask you something," he began softly, his voice equally gentle. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"Mhm," Hermione murmured, her gaze steady as she waited for him to speak.
Draco hesitated, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and a desperate hope that the answer would be no. "Did McLaggen ever… hurt you?"
Hermione froze. It was a question she'd wrestled with in secret, a burden she'd carried alone. And yet, here was Draco, a ghost from her past returned to life, standing before her and voicing the very thing she'd never spoken aloud, the words hanging in the air between.
2 Months Ago - 2004
The front door slammed against the wall with a resounding crash, the sound echoing through the quiet house. Cormac stormed into the living room, his face a mask of fury, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Hermione hurried after him, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Cormac, please—" she began, her voice trembling.
He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "Don't 'Cormac, please' me!" he roared, his voice shaking with rage. "Don't you dare act innocent! You knew exactly what you were doing!"
Hermione flinched at his outburst. They'd been at a small gathering with Cormac's co-workers and their families, a tedious affair she'd only attended to appease Cormac. A middle-aged wizard, clearly a few drinks in, had recognized her and, in a moment of misplaced enthusiasm, offered to buy her a drink, praising her role in the war. Hermione had politely declined, thanking him for his kind words and quickly excusing herself. It had been a brief, unremarkable encounter, or so she'd thought.
"I didn't do anything," she pleaded, her hands outstretched. "Someone just… recognized me. It wasn't my fault."
"Oh, really?" Cormac sneered, his lip curling in disgust. "You didn't encourage him? You didn't bat your eyelashes and play the 'poor little war heroine' card? You're so desperate for attention, Hermione. You're always putting yourself out there." He paced back and forth, his anger radiating off him in waves. "You think you're so special, just because you helped defeat You-Know-Who. You think every man is going to fall at your feet."
"That's not true!" Hermione cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn't do anything to encourage him. I just wanted to leave."
"Then why did he offer you a drink in the first place?" Cormac spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You must have given him some kind of signal. You're always so eager for male attention, between Harry, and Ron." He stopped pacing, his chest heaving, and his gaze fixed on a delicate porcelain lamp on a nearby side table. His face was contorted with rage, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, with your fancy books and your perfect little life." He reached out, his hand wrapping around the base of the lamp. Hermione instinctively flinched, taking a step back.
"Cormac, please," she whispered, her voice laced with fear.
He ignored her plea, his eyes still locked on her, burning with a cold fury. With a guttural yell, he swung the lamp against the wall. The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the house, the fragments scattering across the floor like shards of ice. Hermione gasped, her arms instinctively flying up to brace herself.
After a moment of stillness, Cormac slumped against the wall, the remnants of the lamp still clutched in his hand. "I've given you everything," he murmured. "I've sacrificed everything for you. And this is how you repay me? No one could love you like I do. No one ever will."
Present - 2004
"He never hurt me physically… no," she whispered, the words catching in her throat, heavy. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek before she quickly brushed it away. She was crying in front of Draco Malfoy.
Draco took a cautious step closer, his gaze softening as he clearly registered the unspoken pain behind her words. He hesitated, his hand hovering briefly in the air before he gently extended it towards her. "May I?" he asked softly, his voice gentle, almost as if he were afraid.
Hermione looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, and after a brief moment, she nodded almost imperceptibly. Draco then carefully pulled her into a hug, and in that simple embrace, a wave of unexpected comfort washed over her. She hadn't realized how desperately she needed this—this simple human contact, this quiet reassurance—until that very moment.
They remained in the embrace for a few long seconds, the silence between them a quiet understanding. Hermione took a deep breath, slowly regaining control of her emotions as the warmth of Draco's embrace began to calm her. She gently pulled back, wiping away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry for crying all over you," she said with a half-hearted laugh, her voice a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that."
He gently tilted her chin upwards, ensuring she met his gaze, his grey eyes locking onto hers. "Don't apologize to me," he said firmly. "I owe you a debt that I'm not sure can ever be repaid."
The silence that followed was charged with the unspoken history between them, the lingering impact of her testimony at his trial hanging heavy in the air. The intensity of his gaze was so profound, it was as if he was peering into the very depths of her being, unraveling every unspoken thought
"Let's just consider the debt paid," she offered, wanting to move past the weighty topic.
A wry smile played on his lips. "I'll settle for half paid," he countered, with a hint of a playful challenge, the conversation shifting back to a more comfortable, familiar rhythm.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but a smile was spreading across her face. "I look forward to the second half."
Draco chuckled softly and slipped an arm around her shoulders, gently guiding her forward. "Come on, Granger. Let's get you back to the flat."
"We're here," Draco said, stepping out of the Floo.
Hermione took a moment to absorb her surroundings. The flat was stunning, with an expansive open plan that exuded a sense of elegance and comfort. The walls were lined with overflowing bookshelves, and the large windows, stretching from floor to ceiling, offered a stunning view of London, the city lights against the night sky.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, her eyes lingering on the view.
"It is," Draco agreed, a touch of pride in his voice.
Hermione paused, her brow furrowing. "Wait, but where are you going to stay?" she asked with genuine concern.
"I've been living with my mother at the Manor," he replied, a touch of sadness in his voice. "With her under house arrest, she needs the company."
Hermione remembered reading about Narcissa Malfoy, now Narcissa Black, in the wizarding newspapers during her time in Australia. The Malfoys' trials had garnered worldwide attention. Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss for his heinous crimes against both Muggles and the wizarding world. To this day, he was still awaiting an appeal—a prospect Hermione doubted would succeed.
In contrast, Narcissa had received a more lenient sentence. She was placed under house arrest for ten years due to her knowledge of the atrocities committed and her failure to intervene. The sentence had been softened significantly thanks to Harry's testimony, which highlighted how she had saved his life in the Forbidden Forest, demonstrating an unexpected act of bravery amidst her previous silence.
"I admire her a lot, your mother," Hermione said sincerely.
"You should meet her," Draco replied.
Hermione hesitated, a shadow crossing her face. "Oh, I don't know if I could go back to the Manor," she said, her voice soft. The memories of Bellatrix Lestrange and the lingering ache in her arm were still raw, despite the passage of time.
Draco's expression faltered as he seemed to replay his own memories, and his face paled slightly. "I'm sorry, I—"
"That was years ago, Draco. We were just kids," she said, offering a reassuring smile.
"I know," Draco replied softly, his voice strained, as if the memories still held him in its grip.
Hermione looked at the man before her, the vulnerability in his eyes tugging at her heart. He looked so small, so unlike her self-assured Auror partner. "You're owed thanks too, for what you did, Draco," she said quietly. "I don't think anyone has fully understood the weight of your actions during the war. If you hadn't been brave enough, if you hadn't defied your father, Voldemort, and followed me into the Room of Requirement, risking everything…"
She paused, seeing his eyes fall to the floor, a deep frown on his face. She placed her hand on his shoulder, her touch firm but gentle as she guided his attention back towards her. "The wizarding world is a better place because of you," she said softly.
Draco met her gaze, his silver eyes searching hers as if seeking confirmation, or perhaps expecting her to retract her statement. When she remained silent, his expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Thank you," he whispered, the words heavy with unspoken emotion.
Hermione took a deep breath, her head turned towards the window as she considered his previous offer. "Perhaps it would be good for me to see your mother," she said slowly, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "You said she's been redecorating. Maybe it's a chance to heal some old wounds."
"You really don't have to." Draco said quickly, trying to backtrack.
"I want to," Hermione replied earnestly, her eyes meeting his with sincerity. "I'm not ready for it quite yet, but I would like to in the future."
The two of them fell into comfortable silence, their shared presence in the elegant, book-lined flat a quiet sanctuary from the noise and chaos of the world outside. The hum of the city below seemed distant, and the soft golden light of the flat's lamps bathed the room in a warm, calming glow.
"Right," Draco said, with a polite nod. "I should probably head out, and let you get settled. My mother's clothes are in the wardrobe in the guest room, but if you prefer, you can use my room. Don't feel bad about taking them. She hasn't worn them in years."
"Thank you, Malfoy. This is very kind of you," she responded, as she looked around the cozy space.
A warm, genuine smile spread across Draco's face, softening his features and making him look younger, less guarded. "You've been calling me Draco all evening, Hermione," he pointed out softly, "I don't see why we should go back to formalities now."
"Really?" Hermione said, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, a look of genuine confusion on her face.
"I'll take an Unbreakable Vow right now," Draco said, laughing heartily and holding up his hands in a dramatic gesture of innocence, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I promise I'm telling the truth."
"Oh, get lost," Hermione said, her smile widening into a grin.
"Alright, alright," Draco conceded, as he walked towards the fireplace. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Thank you again. For everything," Hermione said, her voice softer now, the words carrying a deeper weight of gratitude.
"Anytime," Draco said, his voice tinged with a quiet emotion as he turned away, his hand lingering for a moment on the mantlepiece before he finally threw the Floo powder. "Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Draco," Hermione said softly, a small smile touching her lips as she watched him disappear into the green flames.
After he left, Hermione sank onto a stool at the kitchen island, her gaze landing on a chipped mug on a nearby shelf. The day's events reeled through her mind, a chaotic jumble. Unbidden, her thoughts drifted back to that night, and how far she had come since. The night where she'd finally chosen herself.
1 Month Ago - 2004
The tip of Hermione's wand cast a small, lonely circle of light on the parchment spread across the kitchen table. The words, stark and final, stared back at her:
Harry,
I'm accepting the job offer. I'll be there as soon as I can arrange travel. Thank you for everything.
Hermione
There was no room for explanations, no space for the tangled mess of fear and desperation that churned within her. This simple message would have to suffice. Harry would understand.
Folding the parchment with a trembling hand, she sealed it with a flick of her wand. A wave of nausea rolled over her, the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest.
Cormac's snores, a relentless drone, vibrated through the flat. She unclasped the necklace he'd given her, her fingers fumbling with the delicate chain. There was a faint clink as it hit the wooden table.
Moving with efficiency, she gathered her meager belongings. A hastily bundled change of clothes, hidden in the shadowed corner, and her favourite books, their spines cracked and faded, were all she took. At the door, she paused, her hand trembling slightly as it hovered over the handle.
She squeezed her eyes shut, a brief, silent battle waging across her features. Her lips tightened, then parted slightly as she exhaled a shaky breath. She wasn't being selfish, she repeated to herself, the words a desperate shield against the guilt. She was terrified. Exhausted to the bone. Dangling by a thread. If she didn't leave now, the thread would snap, and she'd be lost forever.
The image of her parents, etched in her heart, made her falter. For a moment, she considered sacrificing herself, clinging to the hope of preserving their memory if she stayed. Even the monster sleeping in the bedroom seemed preferable to the gaping void that awaited her if she gave up on that hope.
But she couldn't stay. The familiar horror inside this house was no longer bearable. Instead, the unknown, however terrifying, offered the faintest glimmer of hope.
Without taking another look behind her, she turned the handle and fled.