Hermione ran into the Great-Hall a bright smile on her features.
She looked just as she did last year. Round cheeks and bright eyes. No hollow cheeks. No black hair.
The Great-Hall was coated in yellow lights stringing against the columns. The tables were full of students, all smiling, all cheering, all celebrating.
She kept running until her feet landed on the edge of the Gryffindor table.
Without thinking, she had wrapped her arms around Cho Chang's shoulders, then Ron's, Harry's, Ginny's, Seamus'.
And then, she had wrapped her arms around Draco.
He didn't look how he did last year. He looked as he did two years ago. Before he got the mark. Before Dark Magic sucked his soul away. His blonde hair was longer than it was now, cusping his ears. It was boyish. It was beautiful. His lips were plump and red, full of life. Full of happiness.
He looked like a painting.
"Well Done, Hermione!" Ginny gasped. "We all knew you would pass with O's!"
Hermione was gripping three sheets of white parchment in her hands. Year 7 Exam results. It was her biggest goal. To graduate from Hogwarts with flying colours, surrounded by all of her greatest friends in the Great-Hall.
Right now, she was living her biggest dream.
"Much better than me, Hermione." Ron scoffed. His cheeks were chubby, his hair long and fiery, hanging over his ears the way Hermione liked it. "We are so proud of you."
Then Draco spoke with a soft voice, his eyes dancing over her skin. "I told you that you would do exceptional, Mione."
She felt her heart patter inside of her chest. He was smiling. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Draco Malfoy's smile.
Then, Draco leaned towards her. He grasped her face in his hands.
He had kissed her.
Hermione woke with a bouncing heart. It took her a few moments to realise that she had been dreaming.
Dreaming about normal life. A life with no War. No Voldemort. No Death Eaters. No Dark magic. Not only did she feel sad, she felt confused. Sad because it wasn't real. There would be no graduation from Hogwarts this year and she knew that. She would not get exam results. She knew that. She would not be able to hug all of her friends and congratulate them. She knew that.
Confused because she would not be kissing Draco Malfoy. That seemed absurd. It seemed feeble. She wanted to laugh at herself and her stupid brain for putting such an image in her head. She also wanted to laugh at her heart for lathering over the thought.
When she sat up, grasping her chest in her hands, she found a scrap of parchment lying on the coffee table in-front of her.
It was clear what it was. Clear as day, shining underneath the dim light from the living room chandelier. It had been a while.
The drawing did not shock her. It confused her even more.
A sketch of her lying in a grave. A small rose clasped between her thin fingers. It was accompanied by writing like always;
Nobody knew Hermione Granger died. They believed it was Rose Waterlily. Nobody knew Hermione died while Anchor Smith watched. He could not save her. She was too proud to accept help.
-
The thought of leaving the refuge of the Southwark safe-house anytime soon had been something whimsical in Hermione's mind.
There had been too much risk. Too many bad objectives over good. And not to mention she believed Draco wouldn't step one foot out of the house no matter what.
Yet she had been wrong.
Because, a few days after, she woke to Draco tapping her arm. She had been sleeping on the sofa, her hair bunched around her shoulders and falling over her face. He tapped her until she awoke with a gasp, suddenly carrowing into the sheets when she realised Draco's face was a mere few inches from her own.
"Get up, Granger, we've got business to attend to." He tapped her arm once more before standing and walking to the armchair opposite her. He fell into the plush velvet and crossed his legs. He was already fully dressed. "Seriously, hurry the fuck up, I haven't got all day."
While sitting, she scoffed. She glared at him through tired eyes.
He simply sat and waited. Waited with one of his legs crossed over the other, dressed in a black shirt with a long black overcoat that had a thick hood. He wore the familiar black boots on his feet.
He gripped the daily prophet in his hands, scanning over the words and rolling his eyes every couple of seconds.
"What business?" She angled her eyes towards him.
He didn't bother to look up at her.
"Personal business. I just need you there as an accessory."
Hermione became confused. She wondered if she was dreaming again. She wasn't. Personal business? At a time like this? Business at a time where she had never seen Draco seen so scared about getting caught....yet he wanted to take her out of the house. For business?
"Fucking hell Granger, i'm going to visit the friend who took me to the hotel." He still didn't look up at her. "I'm not taking you to get sliced in half by Voldemort or anything so you can stop your pea brain from telling you so."
That thought didn't cross her mind until now. She continued to glare at him as she used the wand, she wasn't comfortable calling it her wand just yet, to smooth her hair down until it was almost straight.
"And you think visiting a person who took you to a hotel that occupied Bellatrix Lestrange is a good idea?" While speaking she rose from her seat to grab the hoodie that was hanging over the armchair. She pulled it over her head before whispering a small cleaning charm to wash the sleep from her face. "Sounds like another trap to me, Malfoy."
He slammed the paper shut before tossing it on the floor in annoyance. Finally glaring up at her, he stood from the seat. He dug a finger into her collarbone as he spoke.
"This person is someone I trust." His words seethed from between his teeth. He was clearly not in a good mood. "Someone you trust as well, so if you care to stop being so vexatious, i'd appreciate it."
Hermione held her hands up as she followed him into the hallway. "Ooo, big word for you."
Someone you trust as well. Hm. Hermione thought for a moment but her mind went blank.
"We should take a stop at Ollivander's too." She saw his hands shaking at his sides as he spoke.
He was worried. She knew that. He was scared. She had almost not blamed him, people wanted him captured, most likely taken to be killed. He had the right to be scared. "I know i said Diagon alley is a bad place to visit right now, which it is, but we need to figure out what posses that wand to make it so powerful."
He paused before holding his wand out in-front of him. Hermione felt the ground shaking before he opened the door and walked onto the street.
Worry sank into her veins. Her mind flashed back to the image of Draco withering behind Bellatrix's blade, the blood-curling smile on Shunpike's spotted face. Death Eaters could be anywhere. Hiding anywhere. With nefarious minds and actions, ready to kill and hunt.
Hermione and Draco were their prime targets.
Yet it felt good to feel the snowfall against her skin. It felt good for the wind to brush past her ears, to tangle up her hair. Being outside felt good. She had almost let it feel like freedom.
Draco held his wand towards her, then towards him. He whispered something she could not here.
She watched as his hair turned from white and back to the dark black he had obtained back at the boathouse.
Hermione hated that this brought her some form of an appraisal. Because staring at him, as he lingered beneath the snow with hair the colour of a raven, it didn't remind her of the man she hated. The Draco she hated. It reminded her of the sad, fucked up, toxic boy she had got to know at the boathouse.
His words ruin the moment.
"Are you done being annoying? I can't apparate if your thinking so fucking much. It would slice us both in half."
She scoffed and stepped towards him. She latched her palm onto his forearm.
"I'm not thinking." He stared down at her through the length of his nose. "Let's go."
-
Hermione nearly slid on a pad of ice when her feet connected with the cobblestone in Diagon Alley.
It was not how she had remembered the place.
It was void of all the bright and vivid colours she had remembered. Many of the stores were blown to pieces, windows cracked and broken. It was dim. It was cruel. It was everything it shouldn't be.
"Hm." Draco spoke, rolling his eyes as he took a careful glance before walking. He kept his head down. "Looks like the Death Eaters had a good time destroying this place even further than i had remembered."
The thought of Draco assisting in the destruction made her feel dizzy. She tried to remind herself it was before he had decided to run away. It didn't appease her negative thoughts about it.
"This is awful."
"Stop wallowing and get over it." He pulled his hood up over his head, it concealed his face. "There's nothing you can do, so just get over it."
She wondered if Ollivander was still here at all.
It wouldn't make rational sense. It would be dangerous for him. Very dangerous. But she had learned that Ollivander was a proud man. He wouldn't have been driven out of his store, his home, for the satisfaction of the Dark Arts.
She had been right. He was too proud. Because the thought the shop was cracked and ridden, a small yellow light still twinkled inside.
Her fingers trembled when they approached the door, hoods over their heads and eyes facing the floor.
She tried to not let the memories from before the war drown her.
The door opened with a small creek, only half way, and Ollivander stuck his eyes around the corner with a careful watched. He looked terrified. His fingers trembled against the wood on the door.
"Who are you?" His voice was filled with lacerations. With subtle anger, fear and curiosity. "What do you want?"
"It's me, Hermione." She looked up at him, trying to flash a small smile. She knew she didn't look as he would most likely remember. "Hermione Granger. I visited you last year, just befor-"
"Quick. Come in." He opened the door fully, wide enough to let her and Draco step inside.
The store still smelled the same. Like oak, like elm, like wood and pine mixed with the smell magic. New magic. Old magic. Magic in all its highest forms. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to wallow in the smell. It flooded her bones with joy.
"Hermione Granger." Ollivander's words cracked at the end. He went round to the other side of the desk. His fingers continued to shake. His eyes darted towards Draco, who was still concealed by his dark hood, just a few tuffs of black hair falling into sight.. "It's been a long time. And who is this, is it Potter?"
Hermione didn't know how to respond. She had pulled her hood down and Ollivander looked visibly shocked by her changed appearance. Dark hair, hollow cheeks. Aging. She wasn't quite sure how he'd react when he discovered she had been accompanied by a notoriously dangerous Death Eater.
"N-no, not Potter." Her words felt like jelly. She was nervous. She hadn't thought about the implications of running away with Draco Malfoy in a serious setting like this.
"Oh for fuck sake, stop dilly dallying around the fact, Granger." Draco spat, pulling down his hood so it fell at his shoulders. Hermione mentally held her breath. Yet, Ollivander didn't say anything. He simply stared, eyeing him with a frown.
Draco looked different too. Black hair, a thinned face. A tense jawline. Maybe Ollivander would not recognise him at all.
She was wrong.
"Would you care to explain why you have brought Draco Malfoy into my store, Miss Granger?" His voice was cold. Confused. Her eyes caught him reaching for his wand beneath the counter.
Draco tutted, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his coat pocket.
"Before you try to curse me or some shit, I'm not here to hurt you. The Dark Lord did not send me. The Death Eaters also did not send me." Draco commented, stepping closer towards the counter top before leaning an elbow against it. "We stumbled upon eachother, in-"
Hermione cut him off before he could continue to spill their secrets. "-We just need some advice from you, Ollivander. You are the greatest wand maker we know."
The wand maker did not understand. He did not seem jubilant. But he released a deep breath and turned his eyes towards her. He nodded. She continued. "My wand, it's been fighting against me, refusing to react to spells. Botching them. It even burns my wrist when I try."
Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and handed it to him. His hands were wrinkled and scarred with years of wand-making. Each scar told a story Hermione would love to hear. But there was no time.
He held it for a moment. He twisted it in his fingers.
"I remember giving you this wand." His voice was curt. He seemed more-so puzzled. "It chose you with more determination than I had ever seen, before Potter, of course."
Hermione nodded. Draco stared between them with pursed lips.
"But now, it seems it does not belong to you." He continued to swirl it in his hands before clamping his fist around it. "It is...dormant."
Hermione's chest tightened. She knew that was the reason deep down. She knew Draco was right. But she just didn't want it to be true. Betrayal returned and her mouth fell open.
"Do you know why?" Draco asked for her, because Hermione seemed to be wordless. "Like-is there a reason why it would decide to not work for her?"
Ollivander shot him a bitter look of destain. He clearly did not like Draco being in his presence. Hermione did not blame him. But he responded anyhow, aiming his words towards Hermione and not Draco himself.
"Wands choose the wizard or witch they want to assist. They stick with them, mostly for life. Sometimes wands can decide to change course, change the wizard they want to be loyal to. I've heard of that happening a lot, recently, I am hoping Hermione's wand is not doing it for the same reason."
Bile filled her stomach.
"If you think my wand has decided to reject me because i have joined the Dark Lord, you'd be rather mistaken, Ollivander." She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling offended that anyone would even think such a putrid thing.
His expression softens. A little. He still glared at Draco every few seconds. Ollivander then used both his hands to hold Hermione's wand between his fingers and before she had gone to deject, he was snapping it in two.
She felt as though she was going to faint.
Her wand. Her wand. The wand that had accompanied her for life. The wand that had battled the problems when finding the philosopher's Stone. The wand that had set Snape's robes on fire in a bid to save her best friend from breaking his neck. The wand that had-that had done many things to save her.
It now sat in two pieces on the wooden countertop.
Draco appeared to notice the tears welling up inside of her. He rolled his eyes, but still spoke. "Was that really necessary? She could have at least kept it as a keep sake or something to prod herself wi-"
"There is no use keeping a dormant wand." Ollivander spoke calmly, interrupting Draco before he had a chance to finish. The glow from the snow through the smashed window illuminated his face. It looked ridden with stress and fear. "It could cause more harm than good."
Draco stepped even closer to the counter. Ollivander took one step backwards.
"We think we know why her wand decided to reject her." Draco shot Hermione a glance, nodding his head at her through tired eyes. "We need your help in detecting it."
Hermione dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out the wand. Ollivander eyed it suspiciously as she placed it against the counter next to the broken wand. The jewel clanged against the wood.
"We found this wand." Draco said, his voice low and tense. "I detected the wood to be elm, but the core-we cannot tell."
Ollivander hummed. He seemed suspicious. He seemed careful. He had not yet plucked the wand up from the counter.
"And where did you find this wand?" His old eyes bore into Draco. Like he was trying to piece it together.
"So you can confirm you did not make it?" Hermione asked, her fingers playing together by her stomach.
Ollivander scoffed.
"I don't regularly use...jewels, in my wands."He leaned closer to it, squinting. "Yet, that doesn't quite look like a jewel...I can't place it."
When Ollivander stepped towards counter again and reached forward to pick it up, his hand lingered for a moment, almost as though he could feel the magic radiating from it. He let his hand clasp around it.
He screamed.
The wand hit the floor by Hermione's feet. She scrambled to pick it up.
"Why would you bring that here!" Ollivander seemed breathless. Like he was shocked. Like he had been betrayed. "Why would you allow such dark magic to enter my store!"
Confusion ran over both Hermione and Draco's features.
"W-we don't know it's elements. We aren't-"
"The elements are dangerous. So so dangerous, child." He shook his head. He still seemed frantic. Like his body had been shocked by the power of the wand. "I haven't seen a wand so powerful in a while. It's dangerous."
"Will you just fucking tell us what all the fuss is about?" Draco sneered, stepping forward to grab Ollivander's shirt front in his fist, pulling him up to meet his eyes.
Hermione was scared. She thought Draco was going to headbutt him. Yet, he dropped Ollivander and chuckled as she watched the old man nearly fall to the floor.
Sadness hit Hermione in the centre of her chest. She had always remembered Ollivander as being a chirpy, positive man, with eyes that sparkled while dissecting wands and pairing them to wizards. Now, now he seemed old. Old and weak.
It was the reflection of the war in his eyes rather than the reflection of joy.
"T-the maker is not clear. The jewel, or shall i say the non-jewel is made with something i cannot detect but i know it's dangerous and powerful. It almost feels as though it's being hunted." The wand maker spoke as he stared down at the wand in Hermione's hand.
"It's core is-it's core is Basilisk Fang." Ollivander continued.
A shiver ran down Hermione's spine.
"It has now pledged its loyalty to you, Hermione Granger."
-
After departing from Ollivander's shop, Hermione felt dazed. She wasn't sure if it was the flood of memories, the ideology of destruction or the fact the wand maker had declared the wand to be her own. Maybe it was a ream mixture of the both.
Her and Draco walked side by side down Diagon Alley. Her face and hair was hidden by her black hood and Draco mirrored her appearance.
Yet, when she glanced up at him as they walked, she could catch half of his face, bouncing with muted colours of the painted shops around them.
"Where is your friend situated?" Hermione's asked, keeping her voice low. She saw Draco's eyes tap against her face for a short second before continuing to stare along the cobblestone path.
"Far from here." He scoffed. "We can apparate in a little while, just not here. Too much Dark Magic around."
As Hermione wished to respond, her voice is drowned out by the gentle glad of boots against the cobblestone and a rush of murmuring voices.
Draco grabbed her forearm and pulled her into a street before she even had chance to contemplate it. From the putrid smell of death and Dark magic, she assumed she had been pulled into the dark pits of Nocturne Alley.
When her elbow brushed a metal skeleton, she quickly discovered she was sitting on the steps of Borgin and Burkes.
Her mind flashed to the image of Draco and the vanishing cabinet. The image of Bellatrix Lestrange entering her school.
She wanted to be sick.
"Don't fucking move." Draco's hand was still clamped down onto her forearm. "Keep quiet."
Draco peeked his head out of the alley they were hiding in. At first, she questioned what he could have seen to make him so nervous, but when she spotted four wizards, all dressed in short-sleeved black cloaks to proudly display their dark marks, she knew why.
Her eyes fell over the wizard at the front. Soft skin and wavy mousey hair. She knew this wizard. Not too personally, but she knew him. She shared a textbook with him last year during Muggle Studies. He had helped her brew a potion when she forgotten the two main ingredients in a panic.
The wizard was Theodore Nott.
His face was scowled, his pure features tainted by evil, worry-death. He was spitting out words she could not hear.
Dark magic radiated around him. She wanted to cry. He was just eighteen. She had hoped better for her fellow classmates. Especially those who had been so magically gifted like himself.
Although she couldn't see the face clearly, she assumed the witch walking beside him was Pansy Parkinson. Short black hair and pale hands. Hermione's eyes fell over her black fingernails. She then knew it was Pansy Parkinson. Because Pansy had spilled black nail polish onto Hermione's new Potions textbook last year.
She knew Pansy too. Somewhat. They weren't too fond of each-other. Pansy was raucous and confident. Pansy was a player, always attached to the arm of a lustful witch or wizard. Always prying at Draco or Ginny with narrow eyes. Pansy was the opposite type of witch to Hermione.
Yet, she had admired Pansy. Because when others weren't looking, she would have shot Hermione small glances and closed lipped smiles. She had even left a small vial of love potion on Hermione's desk once. Hermione never drank it and she never asked why.
She had believed that deep down, Pansy was good. The tattoo graced on her forearm told her differently.
"Malf-"
"I said be fucking quiet Granger, do you want to get us killed?" Draco whispered, glaring back at Hermione for one moment. For a second, Hermione thought there were tears in his eyes. Though she couldn't be sure.
She wanted to laugh at his words. For someone who was so scared of dying he sure did like to taint death into parchment with ink.
She wondered, sitting there on the steps of Borgin and Burke's, how he must have felt. How he would feel watching his best-friends walking together, proudly displaying their Dark Marks, on the prowl to hunt.
Without him.
She wondered if he regretted running away. She wondered if, deep down, he would hunt with them if they would accept him back.
The other two Death Eaters had their faces concealed. She could not be sure of who they were. Nor did she want to care. No matter the occupant, they were evil.
They disappeared behind the narrow alley behind Ollivander's and out of sight.
"Cunts." Draco's words landed against the snow like blood. The grip around Hermione's forearm tightened so hard she winced. "Fucking cunts."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "You don't envy them? You don't wish you stayed with them? You don't miss them?"
He laughed. It was cruel and sinister. It twisted against the cold air like a drug.
"They're cunts for leaving me here with you."
She bit her lip to stop his words from stinging.
"Then go back to them." Hermione said, finally pulling her arm from his grip. She noticed four crescent moon shaped dents from the force of his nails. "Why do you bother to stay? Why? You could easily go and tell them your new-found secret about Harry and Ron. You could spare Voldemort's life and he would repay you for it."
He glanced down at her. The soft grey lighting emoting from within Borgin And Burke's pressed against his tense features. His normally blue eyes were dark grey.
"I would." Draco spoke through his teeth. Hermione thought maybe he was lying. "I miss them. I miss my friends. I miss having people, someone. Someone that isn't a voucher for the Order and someone who isn't so annoying. Someone that isn't you."
Hermione scoffed in offense, but he continued to speak.
"But I will never return to Theo or Pansy." He shook his head. "Not when they refuse to distance themselves from Blaise."
Blaise Zabini hadn't crossed Hermione's mind until now. Now she thought about it, she hadn't seen him back at Hogwarts. She hadn't seen him just now in Diagon Alley. She hadn't heard anything about Blaise Zabini in weeks, months even.
"And why would that be a problem? Blaise is, was, your best-friend." Hermione began to shiver as the snow seeped through her jacket. "You aren't making much sense Malfoy. You never do-"
"What kind of Best-Friend would murder my mother in cold blood?" Draco spat.
He gripped the sides of Hermione's face.
His nails sank into her sink. It drenched her in a sense of Deja Vu. Her dream from a few nights ago flashed in her mind. Yet, she was compelled to think Draco wouldn't kiss her as he did in the Great-Hall.
He had also gripped her face back in the boathouse. Maybe this was a ploy for power. A way to mark his territory over her.
Hermione's mouth parted as her brain pieced it together. Maybe this was why he ran away.
Blaise Zabini was responsible for Narcissa Malfoy's death.
-
A/N - soooo how is everyone feeling about this?
Any theories about Blaise, Theo or pansy?
Any ideas why Draco keeps drawing Hermione dying?
Who Draco's 'friend' is that'll appear that chapter?
Tysm!