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Draco hadn't believed his eyes. He had actually felt the need to pinch his thigh as he took in the sight before him, because there was no way this was real.
He listened intently as she went through her plan — a plan she had broken a thousand wards and protection spells to tell — and he couldn't argue with its brilliance. He had never truly been able to argue with her brilliance.
It seemed a long time ago that they hated one another, but then the world hadn't been as dark as it was now. Things officially went bump in the night, just like the Muggle stories said they did — even years later they had stuck with him, the tales his mother had told him when his father wasn't around.
She shifted her weight, awaiting his words that would condone her or undo her. If he had been shocked at the sight of her, the thing that came next was far worse. Her lips moved, and the sound filled the room, but it took a second him for him to hear it; to really take it in.
"Will you… Will you stand with me?"
He was royally fucked either way, that was all Draco knew with certainty. His head, however, nodded, silence being his preferred mode of communication for now, unsure if anything he said would even be heard – his heart was stuck in his throat.
"I have to go," her honey brown eyes staring at him as she sighed heavily. He had missed staring into them; he had missed touching her lips — even if he had only been able to briefly, in the throes of what he must do, and where she must stand. "I don't want to be away from you this long –"
"– Be safe."
It was all Draco could say, running his finger over the band that bound them to one another. The ring that had sealed his life and fate the moment she placed it over his knuckle on his right hand — he wouldn't change a thing, she had saved him in so many ways, and yet he had never truly thanked her for any of them.
He suspected if he did she wouldn't believe him. Even all they had suffered through, he still saw a speckle of doubt in her eyes — but he didn't blame her. Draco was still Draco, and the past couldn't be completely undone.
The crack of her departure left a mist of concern that washed over him and made his joints weak. He stumbled to the bed, falling into the mattress as he stared at the spot she had stood, wondering when he'd see her again.
"Malfoy!"
She continued to dart after him. Each step she hated him a little less and Harry a little more. Thanks to Harry and his obsession, here she was darting after the blond to prove him wrong. Her need to know was greater than the voice in her head telling her to turn around, to run the other way and ignore the stupid git.
Harry wasn't wrong though, she was — and she hated how bitter it felt to think that.
"Malfoy!" Hermione called, "Stop!" She let out a low growl, not wanting to use pleasantries at all with him, but she knew she was left with little choice. "Please stop!"
The blond turned on his heel, eyes puffy and red. His face was flushed and she noticed even in the poor lighting how thin he had gotten — how malnourished he had become. Hermione didn't like how much it affected her, especially after all he had said to her over the years.
"What do you want, Granger?" Draco spat, but his words didn't have the desired effect with tears coming down his cheeks. There was no 'puff' in his chest, nor was their any confidence in his stance — he looked defeated.
She wasn't sure if the voice in her head wanted to believe in him — because even she couldn't imagine a bully becoming something so evil — or if it was the look in his eyes that begged her to either leave or help. The look morphed into something pained, tortured; he had seen things that haunted him, and it clearly kept him awake at night.
Hermione knew that because she saw it in her own eyes on the occasion she payed attention to her appearance.
"Granger."
She looked up, staring at the boy she had once hated and now suddenly didn't. The boy who had bumped into her in the library weeks ago, apologised straight after even though he knew who she was. The man who had looked at her before whispering two words that had made her go cold.
"What do you want?" He asked.
The question hung between them. The one that tested loyalty and friendship.
"You asked me…" The words sticking in her throat. "I'll help you, okay? I'll help."
Hermione was sure she heard him sigh in relief.
Draco placed his sweaty palms on his thighs as he sat facing forward. He was talking again; He was giving orders. Draco felt each hiss of an 's' roll down his spine, each scorned, forced laughter which made his hairs stand on edge.
The bloodbath from the night before was still imprinted into his mind. He wasn't sure he could ever, ever listen to the piano being played and enjoy it again. The torture at letting Potter and Weasley escape with something of great value — worth so much it came at the price of his father's screams — needed someone to be brought to their death. The Dark Lord made it seem as though he relished in it all while Draco had squirmed the entire time.
"... and Draco," that cold, snake like voice said. The entire room turning to look at him as he turned his head, facing the red eyes that reminded him of blood. "You know this Mudblood?"
He tried to remain unfazed at the word. His finger moving to his concealed ring as he remained masked and stoic. The urge to look at her was rising, but forcing himself not too was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.
"I do." Draco moved his eyes to her cold expression to make a point in front of the Dark Lord. He hadn't expected her eyes to be screaming words she wasn't allowed to say at him, and he tried to soothe her woes, but without being able to speak or show emotion, it was difficult. "I know the Mudblood…"
The words tasted so horrid in his mouth, but the shudder that he had to hide that ran down his back was far worse to stomach.
The horror that two years ago it had been a word he brandished without fear or caution. A word he used against her all - the - time. How he regretted it! How he wished he had seen the wider picture sooner. Shame hung on his shoulders with all his other mistakes, and he hoped she saw them all.
The Dark Lord dipped his head, and Draco swallowed back some fear at seeing him not disappointed.
"She will be yours."
Draco near spluttered, the plan they had made crumbling to ash. "Excuse - excuse me, My Lord?"
He folded his long, thin fingers onto the Malfoy table, his red eyes seeming to be impressed with the reaction, even if they pierced his soul. "The Mudblood. She beat you in everything, or so I remember your father telling me. She is yours. A gift." The voice boomed around the room and he was shocked the windows hadn't shattered. But that could be because it was in his head, everything suddenly seeming louder. He could hear her heart; he could hear it hammering against her chest. "You, Draco, have one more job I require from you."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"You will soil the bloodline your father and his ancestors built." Draco's mother cowered beside him, and on impulse he wanted to hold her hand, soothe her, calm her. She had lost so much. "You will have a child with this… beast, and pay for your father's debts. Of course, you understand that while I ask this of you, you will be de-ranked, but I am sure you'll agree this is a far better fate than the one the previous head of your family suffered."
Draco swallowed, he had no choice. They had thought of this. They had suspected this when others had gone missing — now that Dumbledore was gone. The rumours that girls were picked at random to please Purebloods and help provide more loyals to the cause, or to bring family's to their knees for their mistakes.
"How the Malfoys have fallen," the snake-faced man said, and even over the loud, mocking laughter, Draco could hear her heart. He heard it hammering, rhythmically, like music to his ears and he listened, focusing on it as it merged with his own.
He at least could protect her. He at least could do some good.
"What the fuck is this Granger?"
He watched her sigh. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, she, who didn't even know what the world felt like. He did. It was living in his house, sitting at his table, staring with red, blood-lustful eyes at his mother.
"You need to listen," she mumbled. "This doesn't change a thing. I don't like you. You're a horrid bully with blood-status issues." Her confidence seemed to slip and he saw how vulnerable she was. The words were ones she felt compelled to say, but even he could see the confusion in her eyes. "Harry… Harry is in danger, and he's - he's my best friend, Malfoy. So if you're going to do something to him –"
"– I'm not."
Draco bit the inside of his mouth. Two words. That's all they were, but they confirmed so much. They confirmed she had something to worry about, but not exactly what she worried about. It confirmed the weight on his shoulders, and the danger that swirled around them.
He had never been this close to her. He had never appreciated how her teeth had shrunk and that someone had taught her a charm for her hair. She wasn't pretty. She just wasn't… ugly. She was intelligent, but she wore it as her make-up and thought that was all it took.
Somehow, on her, it was.
"You apologised to me," she mumbled.
Draco sighed, he had known not dealing with this earlier was a mistake. "I did. It does happen… albeit rarely. Granger, you said you'd help. Having a 'chat' doesn't help me."
The witch forced her hand into her robe. He watched anxiously as she opened her palm, and inside was a ring. Silver. Plain. Nothing fancy, but he suspected something far greater was involved.
"I apologised, Granger, proposing seems a bit much."
She rolled her eyes. "It's a protection, communication and Portkey."
He eyes widened — he could not argue that she was brilliant.
Draco held her arm as he forced her up his staircase. He knew that the walls of his home had eyes now; he knew that someone would tell of his fears or his unwillingness to bow down, and the both of them would have to pay. It wasn't until he was in the confines of his room that he lessened the grip, and her eyes looked close to tears at the pain he had unwillingly inflicted.
"Oh God!" Hermione blurted out as though it had been curdling in her all that time. "Oh God Oh God!"
She looked close to being sick — he wasn't far off it himself. He was staring into the belly of the beast and he saw no way out.
Draco cast his eyes to her forearm. The forearm that was bare and innocent. Her neck was marked, the wound still not healed from his Aunt's blade — an apology cutting through his lips.
His hands reached out to her, guiding her to the edge of the bed as he forced her to sit down. He didn't like the idea of this either, but he had made a promise — and he would stick to his word.
Without Granger he would have fallen apart. Without her watchful eye in and her words that cut through him, he wouldn't have even asked her to help him. She had always been a know-it-all and he had teased her about it, but he couldn't deny that she was always on the Galleon. He was sure he'd be dead without her; Draco was sure his mother would be dead without her.
"Granger —"
His words were cut off by her hand rising, the pulse in his finger vibrating from being close to her. Draco couldn't admit it. He wouldn't.
There was no way he liked her. She was ordinary. She was… Muggle-born. She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't…
Fuck.
"So you have to… and I have to —"
Draco felt an impulse in him, and before he could fight it he was on his knees before her. His hands wrapped around the one that was on her knee, their protection rings close together.
The binding promise: he wouldn't harm Potter; she wouldn't tell his secret. Neither was a winner; neither was a loser.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. And truthfully he was.
Her brown eyes looked up, her hair falling around her face and he wondered how she still could look so strong when the world had fallen down on them. "Protect me," she whispered, before the dam opened and tears fell.
Hermione watched him throw the glass vase, and she winced at the sound. He was broken, just like the shattered pieces of glass.
Draco hadn't told her everything — but somehow she was thankful of that. None of it would make it easier; none of it would make this more comfortable.
She, because she was nosy, had stumbled upon his conversation with Snape. The same conversation she lied to Harry about. She had followed Malfoy into the bathroom as thick tears fell down his face — she had gotten herself in this mess by sticking her nose where it wasn't needed.
Damn Gryffindor heart.
"I know you're frustrated —"
"— Don't you dare Granger! Don't. You. Dare." He hissed, his shoulders broad and she hadn't quite ever noticed it. His eyes had speckles of silver swirling in the dark grey of his anger — another thing she could only appreciate up close.
Hermione also found him dry, witty and far more intelligent than her usual company — a thought that made her feel guilty for thinking it.
"I! Have to kill someone. Kill. Erase." His hand ran through his blond locks, it sticking up in different angles. "You. You don't get how this –"
"You're right," she said, half saying it through her teeth because half of her wanted to dress him down for assuming he was having a hard life. The other part of her, the logical thinking side, realised this was a chance to relate to him — to get him on side. "You, of all people, can do this."
Draco shook his head. He looked so like a child it made her chest hurt. She couldn't pity him, not when he had done all he had to her and her friends, but she was struggling not too.
"He's going to kill her. He'll hurt my mother. She's… she's innocent, Granger. Innocent." Thick tears built in his eyes and she tried to hide her surprise at seeing him vulnerable once more.
"Then focus, do it for her," Hermione said with warmth. "Say the spell, and send the bird away."
Draco had guided her into bed. He had stared at her as her eyes watched over him. The voice in his head was urging him to be honest, truthful for once in his rich life. Another part of him told him to guard himself, he was nowhere near safe.
"Where would Potter be?"
Hermione scoffed, her eyes still red from her tears. "Hogwarts probably. They're nothing short of creatures of habit."
He didn't hide the smile, he hoped it would comfort her. There was so much he could say to make her at ease, but he didn't want to say too much and ungenuine. He also didn't want a lie to roll from his lips and ruin what they had built.
More than a friendship, but not close to anything serious.
Draco trusted her. He had lived this long for her. It was their promise — their binding promise.
"You're brilliant," he said with ease. "You're… strong."
Hermione rolled her eyes, as though a compliment was something foreign to her. He didn't think that her two dumb friends would shower her in them, but even he threw Pansy a bone here and there.
"I've not…" he let the blush spread over his cheeks. "If you haven't either, we're on the same broom."
"I - I haven't."
Draco nodded, attempting to not seem fazed by that. Something about her saying it with blushing nerves than fearful ones did something inside of him — it made him feel.
"I'm scared too," he said truthfully.
"You're a weird pig," Hermione mumbled. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, "I almost get convinced that you're human under all that hair gel."
Draco sighed, knowing this - this teasing - would be what they needed to break the tension. "I'm surprised you have the other half of your face after hiding it behind books."
She laughed. Thank Merlin she laughed.
She saw his name on the map.
It was happening.
Hermione buried her fears, doubts and worries. Harry would be alive — Draco had assured her. Someone wouldn't be, but somehow not knowing who made her anxiety settle slightly.
There was nothing she could do. Not even if she tried.
His name vanished from the map, and she knew he had gone to the place that things would go missing — just like his name.
"Hermione?" Ron asked. Sweet, innocent Ron. She wanted to tell him, I know what Malfoy is up too. I've been talking to him because he's so broken and we need to protect him. She knew he wouldn't understand. "Drink some of this," the tiny bottle of luck in Ron's fingers. A comforting smile on his face.
He didn't see her like the traitor she was. He didn't even know she was part devil.
Hermione let the liquid fall down her throat, and nothing inside of her calmed. The tremors of fear didn't ease, and the restless mind didn't stop running. Her finger thumped for the man in the Room of Requirement — the man who needed her.
"Come on," she said with fake confidence. Let's deal with what Malfoy has done.
How do you want to do this?
That was the question he wanted to ask. He knew about logistics. He knew from Blaise Zabini — Dormitory lothario — where things go. With her, the girl who had promised to help him, he didn't want to treat her like just anyone.
Draco didn't care for her. Not more than a friend. This was another task, another… task that would push him to his limits. In some twisted way, at least there was a reward — although he hated to think of it like that.
Hermione seemed to feel the weight of his mind, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath that sounded far louder in the silence. "I consent to the act," she said. It sounded so clinical, he hoped that wasn't the usual thing a woman would say before this situation. "I - I want you to feel comfortable and, and if that means touching —"
"— Woah," Draco said, darting back from her but not leaving his sitting position on the bed. His eyes watching her release the knees she had brought up, but her head remained rested on his headboard. "You - and this, it's just –"
She sighed. It was beginning to annoy her. He wasn't sure if she did it out of awkwardness or annoyance, but it annoyed him.
"You can kiss me, if you want to" Her eyes burned into him to see if he'd make some comment about sullying himself with her. Not realising he had come far from that. "I'm not opposed to naked…ness, I'd just prefer you not to touch…" her eyes moved to her breasts, her ample breasts that he had barely noticed.
He wanted to tell her this, but he remembered that Pansy had practically cried when he had said such to her. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just focused more on faces and rears. It was often those two items that he saw most often — faces coming towards him, arses walking away.
"You're good Granger," Draco said uncomfortably. "However comfortable I can do this… We will."
Her mouth opened, and he finally noticed how pink and sore her lips looked. He didn't find them repulsive, but a string in his heart was strummed at the sight of her in pain.
"Y'alright?" She nodded — so that was a no. "It's okay if you aren't. You're a free woman. Remember that, okay? This doesn't change anything. Our spawn —" her laugh cut through and he half smiled. "– Our spawn will only dampen half our lives, and you never know, you may like half of me combined with half of you — without the hair-gel, of course."
Hermione seemed to smile remembering her earlier comment. Weakly, but it was there. He wanted to comment that truthfully they were a right pair. Both trapped in opposing situations that couldn't benefit the other.
He wanted to apologise, but it sounded pathetic. Apologies always sounded pathetic out of the rear of a Hippogriff — and he had been a rear since day one.
How wrong he had been, thinking blood could be different? How wrong he had been, to think doing a job for the Dark Lord would bring him glory?
"I'm free. I'm not a gift," Hermione muttered under her breath as she moved along the bed to him. "I'm free. I'm not a gift." Even as he heard her convince herself, he knew she knew what she really was.
Draco placed a hand on hers before she got to him. He wanted her to understand, to see with her own eyes that he wasn't the devil, he just wasn't strong enough to fight the devil. "Friends?"
"The worst kind, but okay," she smiled and he realised that she was teasing him.
He was teased by Hermione Granger.
Everyone is upset.
Harry had tears in his eyes and Hermione didn't know where to look. She felt like this was on her shoulders, and somehow she thought it was.
She sat there as Harry shouted about Draco escaping, and a part of her felt glee. Yes, Professor Dumbledore was dead, but Harry was alive.
Hermione rolled her finger over her ring. The magical bond that forced them together, and kept their promises safe. Her life for Harry; Draco's life for his mother.
The oddest match in history when it came to promises, but here she was, looking at the boy she met on the train — the saviour of the wizarding world.
Draco closed the bedroom door. His mother had come to bid him goodnight — something she never did — and handed him a potion. One sniff under Hermione's nose and she was clearly transported to a book in some corner of the world.
He admired that about her. Books seemed to root her, and he half wanted to take her to the library to impregnate her — somehow he expected she'd feel more comfortable. The downside to his plan was that the library was full of the darker books of the world, and he suspected she wouldn't approve — bloody know-it-all.
"I think…" Hermione said as she drank it without finishing her thought. "Yes. Fertility potion. I think your mother is aiding us."
Draco rolled his eyes. He began to unbutton his shirt, just as he would any other night when he realised how odd it was to undress in front of her. He thought of his scars — the scars caused by her friend and the fucking saviour. Bloody Potter.
He cast a look over his shoulder, half-hoping he only needed to do this the once so their contract with the Dark Lord was nullified. As he cast his glance over her, he didn't want to admit that half of him wouldn't mind doing it more often, but he suspected that was the male in him and not that he had feelings for her.
"We all have scars," Hermione said from the bed. Draco remembered her telling him the night after he was discharged from the Hospital Wing. The scar down her back that glowed silver — the scar from the attack in the Ministry that led him here. "We shouldn't be afraid of them."
"Don't Gryffindor today," he mumbled as he continued to unbutton his shirt, allowing the fabric to fall off his arms. "I need all the snake in me to do this."
"I'm not sure whether to be offended," Hermione said, her tone higher pitched.
Draco turned to face her, and the blush across her cheeks made him hot. "Believe me, it's a compliment. You'll want a Slytherin. Loyal to a fault."
The side of her lips curled, but her eyes were staring at his shoulders.
"You sure?" He nervously asked, and a nod was all he got.
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
Hermione bit down on her lip. The tent was empty with just the two of them pottering around.
He had gone. Ron had left. He always left.
"Hermione?" Harry asked. Bright green-eyed Harry. The sweetest boy she had ever known, her best friend. "What is it?"
"Do you forgive me?"
He frowned and she couldn't help but laugh softly, her head meeting his shoulder as she weaved her fingers in between his. Her tears didn't fall as thick, but they fell as fast.
"You're such a kind boy, Harry," Hermione whispered. "I'd do anything for you."
Draco admired her.
Four months ago he had been between her legs and slowly entered her. He had felt her pain and pleasure; he had felt her nails run down his back and heard her moan in his ear.
The contract nullified in the morning, yet their antics didn't slow.
He kept her by his side, watching as each day her stomach grew and her eyes became softer when she met him.
He made a new promise, and she believed that he would keep it. He held her hand as she looked at him nervously, her stomach rounding and September approaching.
"Tonight."
"Tonight," she repeated.
Potter had been sighted at Hogwarts, and the small radio that Draco had acquired had kept them in the loop. She had said how she clung to her ring until he returned, and that night she kissed him truthfully, lovingly for his thoughtful gift. They listened to the Twins, and even Draco hadn't been able to deny the happiness at hearing Lightning had struck.
He hoped that his mother would understand, but he assumed she did. The comments she had been making had led him to believe that she knew far more than he even had let on.
Draco admired Hermione, for all she was to him, and for the strength she carried.
Hermione did as she was told.
The cottage in Hogsmeade that Draco had claimed he had always owned since sixth year was their refuge. They listened to the last sound of Battle and she longingly looked at him.
He didn't want to tell her that he loved her. She didn't want to say the same if she was truthful — but they did, they came as a pair.
That walk up to the castle was painful, and not because of the extra weight. Each step felt like a step towards a reality she wasn't sure she could see. What if, after it all, Harry had died?
Hermione hadn't need to be worried.
Their eyes met. Brown and green. Feet hurrying and splitting the crowd as the Boy Who Always Seemed To Live wrapped his arms around her. He glanced down at her stomach, he met eyes with the grey eyed man behind her.
"Do you forgive me?"
And Harry moved from her, looking into her eyes and searched for truth. "You'd do anything for me?" Harry asked, suddenly realising the weight of her words.
"Draco would do that for me, too."
She heard the footsteps behind her, a hand moving past her as the pale hand reached out to Harry's.
"Thank fuck, Potter," Draco said shakily, as he placed a hand on her back. "I –"
Harry stole his words as he shook his hand; a handshake that was long overdue. Hermione watched the two of them, before her eyes looked around at the place that had once been home.
It looked broken, shattered from what it had known and full of fear. Hermione moved her eyes to meet Draco's and he looked to be thinking the same.
Promise me we will fix it?
Draco rolled his eyes before slowly rising his left hand, his thumb moving over the finger second on his right. The place he had moved it to the moment they found themselves with child.
xXx