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dark_granger

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A full moon shone overhead giving enough light for Hermione to see the hooded Death Eaters around her. Hermione let her gaze travel over their heads, trying to identify them. The hoods, however, severely impeded her efforts, although she was certain she recognized Rabastan Lestrange – he was leering at her from beneath his hood.

She was distracted from her scrutiny when gasps exploded among the Death Eaters. The liquid in the Cauldron began to bubble, glowing brightly and painting the clearing in blinding red light.

Nott hurried to the Unicorn, pulling it towards the cauldron, ignoring all its rearing and kicking. When it was less than a foot away, Zabini raised his wand, magically forcing the beautiful creature to raise its foreleg to hover above the mouth of the cauldron, ignoring its neighed protests.

Hermione watched in horrified fascination as Zabini made a shallow slice across the flesh of the extended limb with an ornate silver dagger, letting its shiny blood pour directly into the bubbling liquid below. As the Potion took on a silvery sheen, the spell holding it in place was released and the terrified Unicorn instantly bolted for the thick treeline at the edge of the clearing. The Death Eaters barely spared it a glance, their eyes glued to Zabini.

The Dragon was next, but it barely put up a fight as its forelimb, too, was stretched out over the cauldron. Its deep purple blood joined the mix, adding a pinkish tinge to the silvery red of the Potion.

Drugged out of its mind, the Dragon promptly collapsed in an undignified heap beside the cauldron, large black eyes drooping shut as blood continued to pour from its wounded limb.

Hermione, however, had no time to sympathize as she was up next – Carrow grabbed her roughly, pulling her over to the cauldron. She struggled against her vice-like hold futilely, and was roughly shoved towards Zabini for her efforts.

Before she could steady herself, Nott had grabbed her arm in an iron grasp, holding it over the bubbling liquid. She felt the heat from the Potion against her arm, sweat beading on her brow as she fought to escape the brawny wizard, even as Zabini raised his dagger over the palm of her hand.

"The final ingredient,’ he announced to the gathered Death Eaters, his lips twisting triumphantly.

Stings of pain shot up her arm as her cut the skin of her palm in a single, neat stroke. Her blood flowed down her arm and she cried out in frustration as the first drop of it met the liquid below.

A blinding white light exploded from the Potion, painting the night in liquid silver. Zabini’s shocked eyes met hers, before his surprise made way for comprehension.

′No!′ He turned on Hermione with furious eyes, backhanding her hard across the face. ’What have you done, you filthy Mudblood WHORE?′ He roared.

She flew back under the force of his blow, landing on the grass as he advanced, radiating murderous rage. She could taste blood in her mouth from where her lip had split from the force of his blow.

Still, Hermione glared up at him, refusing to flinch. "What had to be done,’ she replied, twisting her lips into a defiant smirk, while simultaneously pulling out the wand hidden in her sleeve in one neat move.

It was smooth and familiar in her hand, and her Magic surged through it and back, as if in greeting. It was her first wand, the one she’d lost when she’d been captured by Snatchers before the Battle of Hogwarts. Not Bella’s, which she’d been using as a substitute ever since. It was her wand. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of time to properly celebrate.

She aimed at the advancing wizard’s arm, ignoring the furious glare he was levelling at her. "Morsmordre Finite Totalum!’ she yelled, praying it worked.

Her wand emitted a jet of yellow light that hit the Dark Mark right in the middle, making it glow an acidic poison green. Zabini dropped to his knees, his own wand forgotten as he screamed in pain. He clutched at his left forearm, where his Mark was now bubbling and hissing with greenish-black fluid.

Hermione didn’t stand around to watch. She may be going down, but she’d certainly take as many of them with her as possible. Scrambling to her feet, she spun around to face the rest of the Death Eaters, wand at the ready.

The sight that greeted her, however, was not what she’d expected. Nearly every Death Eater in the clearing was writhing, much like Zabini. Groans and screams of pain filled the clearing.

She couldn’t stand by and watch this anymore. Sighing, she reigned in her nerves and reached deep into her magical core before muttering under her breath, "Stupefy!’

Battle Magic coursed through her, before leaving the tip of her wand in one huge ripple of energy. The grass under her feet was charred black, and all the hooded figures were Stunned instantly.

Hermione collapsed with them, drained by the sheer amount of Power she had just depleted on a single spell. She’d effectively incapacitated them to prevent escape, and numbed their pain from the burning Mark. Despite the fatigue, however, she felt a sense of contentment. She may die of exhaustion, but she would be taking every single Death Eater down in the process.

"Granger!’ Warm arms wrapped around her, lifting her gently, bridal style. Hermione struggled to see his face through the dark spots in her eyes. The voice was familiar, and something stirred within her at the pain she could sense in it. Malfoy, her brain supplied, but she was too far gone to comprehend what a Malfoy was.

"Granger, look at me, dammit! Open your eyes!’ the voice insisted, sounding more desperate now. She struggled to do as it said, but her muscles refused, her body too exhausted to so much as twitch an eyelid. It was a miracle she was still conscious.

’Hermione? Oh, Merlin. Tribuo Potestatem!′ She felt a jolt to her chest as trickles of Power flowed into her body, reviving the fading sparks of her magical core, even as she felt it flickered feebly, threatening to die.

′Expecto Patronum!′ The voice shouted. There was a flare of silvery light so bright that it filtered through her closed eyelids, before dissolving back to black nothingness.

Pops of Apparition sounded in the clearing all around her, and she heard several familiar but angry voices before she let herself drift into unconsciousness. Her wand slipping from her fingers was the last thing she remembered.

When Hermione woke up next, she was in a private ward in St. Mungo’s.

A bowl of warm soup sat on the bedside table, and after her week of self-induced starvation, she happily dived for it. Not even bothering with a spoon, she brought the rim of the bowl to her lips and started gulping it down directly, ignoring its scalding heat.

’Whoa, "Mione, slow down! It’s piping hot!’ The bowl tugged itself from her hands firmly, and Harry Potter grinned at her indignant expression, shaking his head fondly. He stood at her bedside in heavily creased Auror robes, looking tired but happy. "How are you doing?’

"I’m fine, Harry. It’s good to see you.’ she replied convincingly, her eyes never leaving the bowl hovering just out of her reach. "I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks! Now give me the soup!’

"I’m surprised you can still talk,’ he murmured, muttering a cooling charm at her tongue, then at the soup bowl. "Should I be worried about you turning into a complete savage?’ he teased, still holding the bowl just out of the reach of her desperate fingers.

"Just this once?’ she pleaded, pouting so adorably that he just had to give in.

"Just this once,’ he conceded, letting her pounce at the soup bowl. "Can’t have another Ron around here now, can we? One is bad enough.’

"Thanks, Harry,’ she grinned happily at him, hunger overriding her need to feel affronted at his comment. She downed the rest of the soup in a single large gulp. "Any chance I can get sandwiches, too?’

"They’re already on the way,’ he assured fondly.

"How long was I out?’ she asked tentatively. Considering the amount of power she’d put into the Battle Spell, she was surprised to be alive in the first place. A week would be a generous estimate.

"Just a few hours.’ Harry replied, brows raised. ’And you can thank Malfoy for that. The last spell performed with his wand was a Patronus Charm, and before that, it was Tribuo Potestatem.′

Hermione blinked in surprise, translating the Latin phrase in her mind. A Power-Transfer Spell. She hadn’t even known it was possible. Vaguely she remembered the spell being cast, right when she was on the brink of unconsciousness.

"So you want to tell me what happened?’ Harry asked, recognizing her puzzle-solving expression.

Memories of her time in the Manor’s dungeons filtered through her mind, and she stiffened slightly. There was no way she could tell him everything, she realized. "What do you need to know?’ she evaded uncertainly.

Harry sighed, catching her uneasiness. ’Well, all I do know is I got an owl about three days ago claiming that someone knew your location, and would send a Patronus on Halloween Night so we would know when and where to come and find you. I wasn’t sure if they’d demand a ransom, or if it was a friend or foe, so I put together a team of the best Aurors and settled down to wait at the Ministry. So imagine my surprise when a Snake Patronus appears at midnight to tell us you were on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. We apparated to Malfoy Manor to find the wards down – and those were blood wards, mind you, so either Draco or Narcissa had to have done it – and then there you were, unconscious in Malfoy’s arms.′ Harry paused uncertainly, as if he were expecting her to comment.

When she said nothing, he simply continued the story. "It was quite a sight. Death Eaters everywhere, all unconscious, with their Dark Marks burnt off. There was some Potion there too, and our Department for Magical Catastrophes is working on identifying it as we speak. Of course, I noticed all that only later. At first all I could see was you and Malfoy. Are you two...’ he paused delicately, eyes intent on her face. "You haven’t been seeing each other recently or anything, have you?’

Hermione squirmed internally, trying not to blush at the question. Should she lie? What if he found out later?

"You know you can tell me anything, Hermione,’ he prodded. ’I won’t judge, or tell Ron, I swear.′

That sealed it, then. She could be partially honest, at least. "It was just a one-time deal,’ she admitted hesitantly, her cheeks blazing.

He looked genuinely surprised. ’Huh. I could’ve sworn – never mind. You’ll figure it out.′

Before she could ask what he meant, however, her other best friend, Ron Weasley, arrived -and he was carrying a large stack of Mrs. Weasley’s corn and spinach sandwiches. That effectively called for a break in conversation as they all dug in.

By the time the boys left, a couple of hours later, Hermione had recounted a heavily censored version of events for the Aurors’ record – carefully glossing over sensitive portions while still managing to paint the Malfoys in a heroic light. It was the least she could do for them in return, she supposed. They were the only reason she was still alive and breathing.

She’d managed to sneak in a question about the Malfoys without drawing suspicion (at least not from Ron), and had learned that while both Draco and Narcissa were in custody along with the other Death Eaters, it was a mere formality. There would be a trial, after which they were to be cleared of all charges in exchange for testifying against the others. The whole process would take a week at most. What seemed to bother Harry most, though, was the lack of the slightest blemish on the arms of both Malfoys – the other Death Eaters had had terrible burn marks, which had been deemed impossible to cure, even by magical methods.

Well, maybe she could sneak a visit to Draco once she got out of the hospital, she thought morbidly, staring at the ceiling in her private ward. She should at least thank him properly for everything he and his mother had done for her.

"Hey, Malfoy,’ she said softly. "Mrs. Malfoy,’ she added, glancing over his shoulder at his mother. She merely nodded back, before returning to staring at the wall.

"Granger,’ Draco responded, smirking. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?’

It had been just four days ago that he’d gone to visit her in the Manor’s dungeons, and yet here they were, with her visiting him in the Ministry of Magic’s holding cell. The reversal of roles seemed altogether comical now, even as he surveyed her nervousness at their surroundings. Not that he blamed her.

The Ministry’s holding area was overflowing with Death Eaters, with five sharing each cell due to "lack of space.’ Draco had scoffed at that. They were Wizards, for Merlin’s sake. Extension Charms were created for a reason, right? Not for Death Eaters, apparently.

However, he and his mother had a cell to themselves, thanks to Potter’s influence. On the downside, however, the cell across the corridor from them held Icarus Zabini, and the man’s withering glares were grating on Draco’s nerves. Granger’s presence only seemed to incense him further, but this only served to make Draco feel a little smug.

"I’m a Granger, Malfoy. Do you think I can’t find my way through the Ministry undetected?’ she demanded, acting offended. She was studiously ignoring the glares from Zabini and his cell mates. Her tense shoulders, however, told him she was still uncomfortably conscious of it.

Draco was surprised at the surge of protectiveness he felt towards her at that moment. He felt an urge to shield her from the man’s view, to place himself between them and protect her. The bars on his cell door prevented him from acting on his whim, though, and he was pretty certain Granger did not need his help anyway. Her display with Battle Magic on Halloween night was proof enough.

"So you’re here. What now?’ He asked grinning at her cockily, but smartly lowering his voice to a whisper so that they weren’t overheard. "Because if we’re gonna play out events like they did back home, you’ll have to sneak into my cell in the middle of the night, right?’

Granger’s cheeks flushed a bright red, but her expression remained calm as she shook her head and smirked back. "How’s the arm?’

Draco smirked wider, showing her the unblemished skin of his forearm. ’Mother and I removed our marks before the ceremony. Your way was effective, but too painful, don’t you agree? Someone had to be able to call those idiots who call themselves Aurors.′

"You could have given me that spell – did you think of how much easier it would have been?’

Draco shook his head. "That spell would only work if it was performed willingly, and can remove only one mark at a time. I doubt you’d be fast enough to get them all.’

"You really thought this one through, didn’t you?’ Granger commented, grasping the bars separating them. "I know you don’t want to hear this, but thank you for everything, Malfoy. I think I may have been wrong about you.’

Draco nodded uncomfortably, before not-so-subtly changing the topic. "So what brings you here then? I know you didn’t go through the trouble of sneaking in here just to admire my flawless skin.’ His smirk returned at her flustered expression. Zabini glowered at them from the opposite cell, but Granger, who had her back turned on him, didn’t notice, and Draco chose to ignore him.

"I’m actually here to fix up our story,’ she whispered, leaning closer. "For your trial.’

Draco caught what she was getting at. "You don’t want people to know about what we did,’ he stated, a pang in his chest at the thought. It wasn’t an unreasonable request by any means, but he couldn’t help the way his chest constricted painfully at the thought that she might be ashamed of them, of what they’d shared.

Granger’s eyes softened as she took in his hurt expression. "It isn’t because I regret what we did, Malfoy. I still think it was the right thing. But do you think other people will understand that?’ She huffed angrily. "You’d be accused of brainwash, rape, and god knows what else. The Wizengamot will twist the story around as an excuse to lock you away. It’s better this way, at least until your trial, okay?’ Her eyes were tender even as they bore into his.

Draco nodded reluctantly, feeling slightly better. She was right, of course. But in a way, he also felt a little guilty. Pushing his crazy emotions aside, he met her gaze squarely. "So what’s the official story?’

Granger grinned smugly back. "Oh, you’re not going to like it.’

The Malfoy trial, which happened the very next day, was a quick affair-it only took four hours as opposed to the usual 3-4 days.

The story was straightforward enough – the only change was in the order of events. In the "official’ version, the sex came before she was captured, one lonely night in the deserted Library. The Death Eaters had simply assumed she was a virgin. The Malfoys then helped her escape – which was true enough, she supposed.

The Wizengamot swallowed their story easily enough, with a few raised eyebrows among the more conservative members at the notion of premarital sex. If they noticed any inconsistencies in her story, however, they were wise enough not to comment under Granger’s threatening glare.

Thus, Draco and Narcissa were officially cleared of all charges related to Death Eater activities, mostly due to testimonies from Potter and Granger as well as the invaluable information they both provided.

Granger received her second Order of Merlin (First Class), becoming the youngest Witch, and the only Muggleborn, to have received the award twice.

And the moment he was a free man, the first thing Draco did was thoroughly snog the hell out of Hermione Jean Granger.

When Draco returned to Hogwarts after the trial, he felt strangely relieved.

All the remaining Death Eaters were being tried and sentenced to Azkaban. He, on the other hand, was now finally free to live his life as he pleased.

He still received icy glares and cold shoulders from many students, some because they hadn’t forgotten his role in the war, others because of his more recent betrayal. He ignored them all.

They hated him, but he was used to being hated. All he wanted was for life to go back to some semblance of normalcy – as close as possible to how his third year had been – no living in fear, fewer nightmares, no tortured screams in the middle of the night.

And he got his wish. He was content. And then his life was changed once more, but this time, he welcomed it. It all began when the annoying know-it-all Muggleborn witch, Hermione Granger, asked him out.

Draco couldn’t have been happier.

She’d approached him in the Great Hall on his first day back and given him a scroll with a list of things she wanted to apologise to him for.

The parchment had been over a foot long, and while the first few things on the list were actually worth apologising for, like ′for accusing you of being no better than your father,′ "for ignoring your warnings,’ "for calling you a slimy little ferret,’ and ’for using you for the Greater Good’ the later ones were quite humorous, like "for not asking you out sooner,’ "for being so sexy,’ and "for making you want me.’

′For not asking you out sooner,′ she’d written.

He’d sought her out and asked her about it in the Library the next day, a tiny smirk on his lips. "You stole my lines, Granger.’

"You read the whole thing?’ She’d teased, reaching up boldly to ruffle his hair.

He’d just gaped back. No one, no one, touched his hair. Ever.

But he couldn’t find the heart to reprimand her, even as she continued to speak. ’I just wanted to make the list seem long. Didn’t think you’d actually sit and read it all.′ She grinned widely, slipping out of her chair to straddle his lap, acting completely out of character – for her.

"Are you trying to ask me out?’ He’d asked, slightly giddy in disbelief.

"I guess I am.’ She’d grinned widely, perhaps a bit too widely. "So either accept or decline before I lose my nerve and embarrass myself further.’

"Hogsmeade this weekend?’ he’d suggested tentatively, his surprise dissolving into hope.

She’d smiled, lowering her lips till they were mere inches from his, and ignoring the pointed glare she was receiving from the librarian. "That would be lovely. Now kiss me.’

And that was when Draco Malfoy realized he had fallen for Hermione Granger. Hard.

Draco watched silently from among the mass of hooded and cloaked figures as Granger was pushed towards the cauldron. The wind felt cool on the now unblemished skin of his left forearm, but he was too tense to enjoy the liberating feeling.

What in Merlin’s name is she waiting for? He wondered anxiously, brow furrowing. She has a wand, so why isn’t she using it?

He winced as the Zabini slashed the knife across her palm. The moment her blood touched the Potion, Draco knew she was as good as dead. Use the fucking wand! he wanted to shout.

The Potion flared a bright white, blinding him momentarily. When his eyes returned to Granger, Zabini was landing a strong blow on the side her face.

"Mother, it’s time to lower the wards,’ he whispered to the woman next to him. He didn’t wait to see her nod of acknowledgement, or to watch her sneak away towards the Manor.

Eyes only for the brown haired girl ahead, he began to move towards her as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. She had her wand out now, and with a quick spell, cries of pain filled the clearing as everyone around Draco dropped to their knees in pain, clutching at their Dark Marks.