You are viewing a story from harrypotterfanfiction.com


The Potions Project by Onna_Elwood

Format: Novel
Chapters: 9
Word Count: 27,219
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Strong Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Drama, Humor, Romance
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Voldemort, Draco, Ginny, OC
Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Ron/OC

First Published: 06/01/2009
Last Chapter: 02/27/2010
Last Updated: 02/27/2010

Summary:








It's BACCCKKK!!  Hermione Granger, due to an unfortunate pairing between Draco Malfoy and herself by Professor Snape, a potion gone horrible awry, and a cold heartless Ministry plot, is now running for her life with the most important thing she has ever possesed. Her newborn baby girl. Banner By: CocoapuffShooter. Chapter 10 is in validation, sorry for the wait!


Chapter 1: Late For Class
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

A/N: Welcome readers of HR:NG! I hope you will enjoy this story as much as you did HR:NG. Remember, this is the prequel to HR:NG it is focused on Hermione and Draco. A lot of my gibberish from the other will be answered in this!

To my faithful readers who began with this story, when this is finished, the sequel is called Hogwarts Reborn: The Next Generation... although a title change has been considered!

Thanks for reading, new and old!

~Onna






Hermione ran down the dungeon steps. She was late for Double Potions. She was never late! Never, Never, Never!

“Ronald Weasley, I swear when I see you I’m going to throttle you…” Hermione muttered to herself as she straightened her uniform jacket, preparing to open Snape’s classroom door and take whatever punishment he gave her for her tardiness.

“Ronald, if I hadn’t stayed up to fix your disastrous Herbology essay I wouldn’t have slept in, I…”

“Talking to people who aren’t here? Never a good sign, Granger.” A cool voice interrupted her angry, whispered tirade.

She whirled around, placing her hand instinctively on her wand.

“Malfoy! What the devil?!” She snarled, he chuckled lowering his head and shaking it. He gazed up at her through his fringe of platinum blond bangs with sparkling silver eyes. Judging by his casual lean against the stone wall she must have walked right past him.

How did I not notice him?…

“Late for class, Granger?” He asked, a coy smile gracing his lips. It put her off. It was so different from his usual condescending smirk.

“Maybe, what are YOU doing out here?”

“I slept in.” His smile never faltered.

“Well. I don’t want to miss anymore of the lesson so…” She said, turning back to the door and reaching for the handle.

“Allow me.” He said, placing a hand on her upper arm.

“Ok. I’ll allow you…” She said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms across her chest. He opened the door and stepped aside, holding it wide.

She walked through and opened her mouth to make an excuse to Professor Snape, when she felt a weight on her shoulder.

“Professor, I apologize for Miss Granger and mines tardiness. We had important Head business to attend to.” His voice had lost its light, cool tone it had in the corridor. The cold drawl had returned. It sent a chill down her spine. She almost shivered, but she stopped herself.

She looked up at him and realized that he was a good head taller then her, but she also saw his face, hard and set in his Slytherin ways.

Snape turned from the rest of the class to peer at the two through his curtain of greasy hair. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“What exactly was this… important… business?” He asked in his oily voice.

The lies fell easily from Draco’s lips. His face took on an arrogant air as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, his trademark smirk curling his lips.

“Professor, you wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for the other students, would you?” His silver eyes flared. A warning to Snape not to delve further into his excuse.

“No, of course not, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape’s eyes glittered with an odd combination of anger, pride, and was that… fear?

“Thank you, Sir.” Malfoy’s snide smirk still in place.

“Since the two of you arrived so… late… you’ll have to take the remaining seat in the back. You’ll also have to work together, seeing as how I’ve already partnered your fellow… classmates.”

Hermione tried to shake Malfoy’s hand off her shoulder. It slid away easily. They weaved their way to the back of the room through a maze of student’s packs, feet, and spare stools, then set up at an empty work table. As they began to set up their cauldron, Snape went back to explaining their newest project.

“As I was saying before I was… interrupted… You are in N.E.W.T. Potions Level 7, Year 2. If you’re here you’ve proven yourselves to be among the most brilliant in your year… or in some cases… I’m guessing a grading fluke.” He said, eyes resting momentarily on Harry Potter, then Ron Weasley.

“In any case, you are here and I expect nothing but the best out of each and every one of you… but even your best may not be quite up to par.

In the Wizarding World you will very rarely concoct a complex potion of your own accord. It will require at least one other person. That is why for every project this year, you will have a… partner. This partner is who you are seated by and will, WILL, remain that way until I say otherwise.”

Hermione groaned inwardly.

I am going to KILL Ronald!…

Snape started their first project of the year off with a potion that shot rainbows across the room.

“Useless and pathetic, I know, but the preparation is especially long and tedious so it should teach you to learn to divide your work evenly and to use your time wisely.

He flicked his wand at the board and the instructions appeared in his scratchy script.

Hermione immediately went to measuring cherry blossom nectar.

Malfoy did the same, only with lilac.

“That’s to much.” He shot at her as he held his beaker up to the light to check the level.

“What?”

“You have too much. It’s five equal parts. One cup of each. You have almost a cup and a half there.” He said, barely glancing at her.

“I most certainly do not!” She sputtered.

He set his down next to hers and sure enough it was almost twice as full.

“You should really get new beakers, Granger. The measurements are practically worn off yours.” He said, pouring his lilac nectar into the cauldron, rinsing his beaker, and beginning to measure out some extract of mint.

Angrily she remeasured then added the cherry blossom nectar. She carefully began to measure out the orange blossom nectar.

“Much better.” He commented.

“OH, YOU BE QUIET!” She snapped.

“Miss Granger, 5 points from Gryffindor, for disrupting my class.” Snape said as he glided by.

“Damn it…” She swore.

When the daffodil and violet nectar had been added Malfoy said,

“You stir. I’ll add the ground rose roots.”

“Why should I stir?!”

“Well if those are your beakers, I’d hate to see the condition your scales are in.” He answered, finally looking up at her.

“And what makes you think that your scales are so much better then mine?”

“Well, mine are new. Yours are… rather worn…” He said, slowly raising one eyebrow.

“SO THAT MAKES YOURS BETTER?!” She practically screamed.

“20 points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. If you disrupt my class again it will be detention.” Snape said coldly.

“Now look what you did!” She hissed at Malfoy.

His response was to shove the large wooden spoon at her,

“Stir.” He said curtly.

Seething, she snatched the spoon from his hand and stirred with malice.

They finished their project first, a beautiful rainbow shot across the dungeon, sparkling in the light and lighting up the stone room with bright colors. Hermione let out a soft ‘oh’.

Snape nodded his head approvingly.

“Full marks, you two. It seems some of your skill has rubbed of on Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock, but Malfoy said,

“Now, Professor, I cannot take all the credit. Hermione did get higher marks on her O.W.L.s then did in potions.”

He shot a small grin at Hermione.

“I guess Miss Granger does have her moments.” Snape admitted grudgingly.

Hermione’s eyes opened wide with surprise at the half compliment her Potions Master had given her, even if it was forced out of him like Crookshanks being drug out from underneath Ronald’s bed back at the Burrow.

When class ended she hurried to catch up with Harry and Ron. As soon as she came up behind them she boxed Ron soundly around the ears.

“Ow, `Mione! What the bloody hell was that for?” Ron protested, rubbing his smarting head.

“For making me late to class, you dim-witted dolt!” She snapped.

“How in Merlin’s name did I make you late for class, you cranky banshee?!” He demanded.

“Ron, don’t call `Mione a banshee…” Harry sighed.

“If you hadn’t practically begged me to fix your Herbology essay I would have gone to bed hours earlier, gotten my much needed sleep, and been to class on time! You are such a troll, Ronald.”

“I didn’t ask you to fix it, you nosey hag, I only asked you to touch it up a bit!” He defended.

“Touch it up a bit? TOUCH IT UP A BIT?!” She laughed loudly, “Ronald, the only way to ‘touch up’ your homework would be to steal a muggle warhead and fire it upon the parchment!” She snorted.

“It’s not that bad! You’re just a uptight perfectionist!”

“Not that bad? Ronald Weasley, it’s only the first week of school and you’re already messing it up. Of course it’s ‘that bad’!” She said, glaring at him. Daring him to find an acceptable excuse.

Ron opened his mouth, momentarily looking like a fish, then closed it again looking stumped. Harry shook his head, laughing at the expression on Ron’s face.

“She got you that time, mate.”

Hermione heard soft laughter. Malfoy walked by quickly, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I wonder what his problem is…” Harry muttered, watching him walk past.

“Was he… smiling? Actually smiling?” Ron asked in awe.

“Oh, something is definitely up! He was actually being decent to me in the corridor earlier!” Hermione said.

“Just think, `Mione, in a couple of days that burst in the pipes of the Head Dormitory will be fixed. You’ll have to move in with Malfoy!” Harry said. Ron’s expression visibly darkened and Hermione cringed slightly.

“Oh, don’t remind me, Harry! The closer it gets the more I dread it. It’s not something I look forward to, you know! Sharing rooms with Malfoy…”

She turned and smacked Ron on the arm, hard.

“What was that for? You violent, crazy bloody harpy!” He howled.

“For making Malfoy my potions partner as well as my bloody dormmate!:”

“I didn’t make him your damn partner!” He grumbled.

Hermione turned on her heel, fixing him with her angry honey brown eyes, preparing for another tongue lashing.
“OKAY! Okay, it’s my fault, `Mione! A bloke can only take so much verbal abuse at a time you know…” He cried, putting his hands up defensively.

Harry burst into loud peals of laughter.

“You’re suppose to be my best mate!” Ron shot at Harry.

“I’m sorry, Ron.” Harry said, trying to keep a straight face.

They entered the Great Hall for lunch.

~~~~~

A/N: So like I said, this is the prequel to Hogwarts Reborn: The Next Generation. Tell me what you think okay?

Onna

Chapter 2: Draco's Story
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

After Potions, Draco retreated back to his dormitory. Lunch didn’t appeal to him. Watching Pansy Parkinson chew with her mouth open and stare at him for an hour appealed to him even less.

For such a beautiful girl, she really is quite daft.

The opportunity to catch a couple more hours of sleep, now that appealed to him.

“Corrosive” He mumbled to the ‘blank’ stretch of wall in front of him. It slid aside to reveal a length of gloomy, damp corridor leading to the elegant, yet imposing and slightly depressing, Slytherin Common Room.

The glinting sliver fixtures, dark wood paneling, and general greenness of the room only served to worsen his mood even more.

He pushed open a door on the far right wall and entered another lengthy corridor carpeted in yet more green with the same silver light fixtures and dark wood paneling.

He strode down the corridor, plaques attached to each door alternately lining the walls announced who occupied the rooms beyond. Right: 1st Year Boys, Left: 2nd Year Boys, Right: 3rd Year Boys, Left: 4th Year Boys and so on until he reached the final door set into the very end of the corridor.

It was inlayed with silver serpents whose emerald eyes winked wickedly in the flickering candle light.

One turned its head towards Draco and hissed “Password!” baring its teeth. He knew if he didn’t know the correct password it would strike out and rip his flesh with its sharp silver fangs filled with a hideous potion that would cause him to have horrible convulsions and nightmares for days… he didn’t need anymore nightmares…

“Deviant.” He replied loudly. The door clicked and rattled for several seconds before swinging open a bit. He pushed his way into the Slytherin 7th Year Boys dormitory.

Even without the general dampness that came from having the entire Slytherin House under the Lake, it was a unhappy and dismal, if impressive, place. Each 7th year boy had their own full sized, lavishly adorned bed with a imposing study desk near by. A large fire place surrounded by high backed chairs sent flickering black shadows across the room shared by Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and for only a few more days, Draco Malfoy.

He pushed the hangings on his bed aside and collapsed into the silvery silken sheets fully clothed. He knew he needed sleep, needed it desperately, but as he felt the darkness over coming him and the sudden heaviness of his eyes he panicked and begged his subconscious to leave him free of the nightmare for at least one hours sleep…

The last year had been taxing on them all, Mother, Father, and himself.

The Dark Lord had risen again and Lucius had narrowly escaped a prison sentence by hiding his where abouts from the Ministry.

But things were getting bad…

Deatheaters roamed the spacious grounds of Malfoy Manor, The Dark Lord himself had even stopped by momentarily. Mother was becoming more and more anxious. Lucius was loosing his mind…

When it was announced that Draco was to forgo further studies at Hogwarts and begin training to be the leader of the new, younger wave of Deatheaters, he decided it was time to get out.

For all his strutting about and talk of dark magic, really, all he wanted was to be a student at Hogwarts, make his parents proud, and graduate so he could begin a respectable career as a merchant to build upon the Malfoy fortune.

He had contacted his cousin Darius Malfoy and his wife Nethika, they lived in Austria and were strongly against Lord Voldemort and his teachings. They were more than willing to take him and his mother in until it was safe for them to return to Britain. He would finish his last year at the Germanic School of Sorcery, then move his mother even farther away from Lucius and Lord Voldemort.

But that wasn’t how it happened…

His mother came rushing down the stairs, panic in her eyes.

“Draco… I have everything you asked. All the jewels I could find are shrunken down and hidden into the linings of my clothes, those are shrunken down into my handbag, I have the visas and passports. Are we ready?” She whispered.

“Yes, I have everything I need as well.” He nodded sternly, “Come,” He took her hand and drew her towards the backdoor, Lucius had been gone for days, this was their opportunity… or so he had thought.

POP!

Lucius Malfoy reached out and grabbed his wife, yanking her back viciously.

“My love, my love, my dear beautiful Narcissa, where do you think you are going?” He drawled, swinging her around.

“Darius and Nethika are dead, boy.” He snarled at Draco, “And all of their little brood too.”

“WHAT?!” Draco screamed, “YOU KILLED THEM?!” He felt like he couldn’t breath.

“Why, I couldn’t let them fill my family’s head full of their muggle loving, blood traitor nonsense could I?”

Lucius spit on the floor.

Draco cringed away in disgust.

“But it doesn’t matter does it, Son?” He smiled wickedly at him, “Because you’re already weak.”

“I am not WEAK!” Draco snarled raising a fist.

“What Draco? You raise your fist to me and not your wand?” He sneered, “Has that school deprived you of all your senses? Are you so wrapped up in their mudblooded teachings that you forget you’re a wizard?” He pulled out his own wand in a lightening fast streak

“Crucio!” Draco braced himself for the pain that never came, but his mothers screams did.

Lucius pulled back the curse in surprise.

Narcissa stood and turned icy blue eyes upon her husband.

“I WILL NOT PERMIT YOU TO HURT MY SON ANYMORE!”

“You will not permit me? YOU will not permit ME?” He whispered in a most deadly tone.

“I will not permit you, dear Husband, to rip my family apart anymore. I love the boy. I love my son. I love DRACO!” She screamed eyes mad, bits of spit flying from her lips. She had never faced down her husband, and she never would again.

“You love the boy?” He smiled slowly.

“With all of my heart you WORTHLESS DOG!” She snapped.

“Then save him!” He whipped his wand around to Draco, “Avada Kedavra!”

Shocked and terrified, Draco looked into the green light of his rushing death and prayed it would be painless. The force of the wind knocked him back, the cold marbled floor cracked the back of his head open with a searing pain, and he had waited for death… bet it never came.

He felt a heavy weight slump against his body and he turned his head to see his mother’s lifeless face turned up to him, as if begging him to stay alive, her hand reached out towards him as if to touch him.

Lucius’s laughter filled the pristine kitchen, the backdoor still stood ajar from their botched escape.

“You see you worthless, weak piece of muggle sympathizing slime! You let your own mother die rather than feel the cold kiss of death for yourself! Sacrificed the woman who gave you life and blood to keep that empty head on your shoulders thinking its worthless, weak thoughts. YOU KILLED YOUR OWN MOTHER BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO AFRAID TO FACE DEATH YOURSELF!!” Lucius roared in mirthless laughter.

“No, Mother! Mother! Mum, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, why did you have to save me? WHY?!”

“GET UP YOU FOOL! Meet your death like a man! Draw your wand, Duel!”

But he never had a chance,

“YOU KILLED HER! I DIDN’T KILL HER YOU DID, YOU MISERABLE BASTARD!!”

The scream seemed to rock the whole house with a torrent of energy, a pulse of bluish white light erupted from him and knocked Lucius from his feet, the house rained down around them as Draco huddled his mothers body too him and Lucius’ screams of terror and pain rang in his ears… 


He woke with a start, the tear still wet on his cheeks, his mothers lifeless eyes would haunt him for the rest of his days.

As per his usual his routine he pushed himself up into a sitting position and contemplated what had happened after that.

He had awoken to the sounds of footsteps and loud voices, he had thought that surely it was Lord Voldemort and his Deatheaters come to destroy him, but instead, a heart shaped face with bubblegum pink hair had popped over the ruined wall that had once separated the dinning room and the kitchen.
“Remus! I found him! He’s alive!” Tonks had shouted.

Order members had crowded around him and he watched them blankly as they removed his mother’s body from his lap and placed it on a gurney to remove it.

“We’ll get her a proper burial, son.” Mad-Eye Moody’s familiar voice growled as he and Remus Lupin pulled him to his feet.

It had amazed him how willing he was to turn to the people he had been taught to consider beneath him. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Tonks was family, even though he had never really meet her, she was his cousin.

His life had changed drastically from that point on, he had lived the rest of his summer with Tonks and Remus, surprised to learn that they were a couple. He asked that no one be told his story, that he wanted to return to Hogwarts as normally as possible and try to help the Order in anyway he could, but that had proved difficult since all of his friends who were sons and daughters of Deatheaters knew what happened, at least Voldemort’s
side of the event.

So here he was, missing his cousin, mourning his mother, longing for sleep, and hated by all he had considered friends, in his 7th year at Hogwarts.

He could see the physical differences in himself as well, he stopped combing his hair back in the style his father approved of, choosing to let it hang free, the color and turned a bit more golden along with his skin tone from his time in the sun helping Remus work in a little garden he had planted. He spent more time training, knowing that he would be a target of the Deatheaters some day, and was proud of the muscle definition he had achieved. He tried to act as ‘normal’ as possible to try and discredit his fellow Slytherins new opinions of him, but sometimes he slipped,

Like today… with Hermione Granger… 

Thinking of Granger had him looking at the towering clock in the corner and realizing he had 5 minute to make it up 5 floors to his Ancient Runes class…

“Professor Babbling is going to kill me!” He muttered as he jumped out of bed and grabbed his bag, racing for the 5th floor…

Chapter 3: The Prophecy Is Made
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Bathsheba Babbling sat in her study with about 30 minutes to spare before her next class started. She had no essays to grade, her lesson was all planned, and she had just set a kettle to boil over the fire. She leaned back in the chair behind her desk, closed her eyes and awaited the whistling of the pot.

Instead, she heard a timid knock on her door.

“Professor Babbling?” A familiar voice called through the door.

“Yes, Hermione?” She called out, smiling. Her favorite student.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, my dear!” Professor Babbling said, smiling wider. She had told the silly girl a million times she was always welcome in her private quarters, no matter what.

Hermione opened the door and almost marched into the room.

Well, something certainly has Hermione riled up…

Professor Babbling tried to hide her amusement, she loved the girls quick temper along with her natural brilliance and her habit of completely missing the point of the conversations and hobbies of her peers. She loved the girls attitude toward, almost contempt of, of any free time, which she considered to be a complete waste. Which was probably why the girl was in her office at that very moment.

“Can I help you, Miss Granger?” she asked with feigned seriousness, trying to put on her teachers hat.

“Possibly.” The girl sniffed, looking far to prim and proper for her age as she brushed at the seat of the chair in front of the desk, then neatly tucked her uniform skirt under her before she perched on the edge of said chair, careful to keep to hem of her black robes of the floor.

The tea kettle whistled and Professor Babbling waved her wand so that two cups of tea appeared on the desk. Hermione looked at her with an all to appropriate expression of gratitude, then picked up her own cup and sipped it carefully.

Professor Babbling bite back a laugh as a sudden image of ‘accidentally’ standing up and splashing a bit of tea on the girl just to see her reaction popped into her head. She knew exactly how it would be. Hermione would furious, the girl skipped annoyed and always went straight to righteous fury. But she wouldn’t show that she was upset because she was angry with a teacher. Instead, she would most likely apologize to her citing some reason why it was her fault the tea spilt, even though she had been sitting perfectly still. She would pull out her wand and efficiently clean the spill, first from the floor or desk, where ever it happened to land, because that was the courteous thing to do, then clean her robes and uniform last.

Professor Babbling shook herself out of her little daydream and nodded at the student before her,

“Well, Miss Granger, if you have a problem, I suggest you tell me, or I shall worry about it all day and you won’t get an adequate lesson out of me.” She threatened. Hermione’s eye widened at the thought of ruining a lesson and immediately blurted out.

“I think I shall murder Ronald Weasley!” Her cheeks tinged a faint pink and she clenched her hands together in her lap.

Ronald Weasley… now isn’t that the boy who is always hanging about with Harry Potter and Hermione?…

“Why, what ever did he do to deserve such a punishment!” Professor Babbling asked, looking at her severely, but she was sure the girl could see the twinkle in her eye.

“What didn’t he do is a better question. First he didn’t pay attention when Professor Sprout was explaining Red Blossoming Dragon Shrubs, so he didn’t take notes, 

then he just plain didn’t care when he wrote the essay she assigned about it, so since he didn’t pay attention and didn’t take notes he didn’t do a good job on his essay. 

Therefore, I had to fix the bloody thing for him, because I couldn’t in any good conscience allow him to fail. So it’s his fault that I didn’t get any sleep last night! 

And being the gentleman that he is, he didn’t bother to check on me this morning, and since I didn’t get any sleep, I didn’t hear my alarm. So then I was late for class, 

and not just any class, Professor Snape’s class! And since I was late to class I have to work with that slimy git Malfoy for the rest of term! And since I have to work with Malfoy, I lost my temper and Professor Snape took 25 points away from Gryffindor. And then after all that, RON DIDN’T EVEN THINK IT WAS HIS FAULT!” She took a deep breath and wailed, “AND THEN HE CALLED ME A CRANKY BANSHEE, A NOSEY HAG, AN UPTIGHT PERFECTONIST, AND A CRAZY BLOODY HARPY!”

Professor Babbling blinked a few times, then burst into peals of laughter.

Hermione buried her face in her hands.

“My-my dear,” Professor Babbling said, gasping for air to speak, “It seems the under-lying problem here appears to be you being late to class.”

Hermione moaned through her fingers.

“Well, here. I’ll remedy this situation. 25 points to Gryffindor for feeling true remorse for being late to class, for being such a good friend as to fix a disastrous essay, and for taking well deserved offense against being called a bloody harpy among other things.” Professor Babbling said.

Hermione’s head shot up,

“Oh no, Professor! I can’t take those points, I didn’t earn them!” She squealed, offended.

“Of course you did, dear. Weren’t you listening?”

“But Professor! Hogwarts: A History say’s that Rowena Ravenclaw invented the points system to award academic excellence and feats of bravery!” Hermione huffed, indignant.

“Hermione Granger!” Professor Babbling said, glaring at her, “Are you arguing with a Professor of Hogwarts?!”

Hermione let out a strangled gasp as all the color drained from her face,

“Oh-Oh-Oh! Professor Babbling, I sincerely apologize! I never meant to disres-”

Professor Babbling cut across her with a bark of laughter that would have made Sirius Black proud.

“My dear Miss Granger, do shut up.” She chuckled at the shocked look on Hermione’s face, “Now, I think I have something that may interest you..” She stood and pulled a large tomb off of her bookshelf and dropped it on the desk in front of Hermione.

“ARKNOOK’S STUDY OF OUTDATED RUINS?!” Hermione practically shrieked. Professor Babbling shook her head in wonder at the girls excitement over a simple book.

“PROFESSOR!” She looked to be almost in tears, “This book has studies of ruins that were destroyed by the Romans during raids of Northern Africa that most modern day ruins scholars have never laid eyes upon!!”

“I know that dear, I am a Ruins Professor, you know.” Professor Babbling said, chortling.

They spent the rest of the half hour poured over the text deep in discussion, all dispute about Ron Weasley and undeserved points forgotten.

~~

Class had started and Professor Babbling looked around the classroom disapprovingly. One Gryffindor, One Slytherin, Two Hufflepuffs, and 10 Ravenclaws. And her one Slytherin was about 5 minutes late.

Hermione Granger, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil, Owen Cauldwell, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Derek Greenburg, Zacharias Smith, Susan Bones, Roger Davis, and Euan Abercrombie were all present.

Draco Malfoy was not.

Again.

She shook her head and turned to the board to begin class.

She was half way through her introduction to a watered down portion of the information she had been studying with Hermione in her office, when Draco Malfoy stumbled through the door. His hair was tousled from sprinting trough the corridors, his shirt was untucked, his robes were hanging loose, and his tie wasn’t knotted all the way. All in all a very different Draco Malfoy then she was use to teaching. He had surprised her on the very first day that year and had continued to do so ever day.

Deciding to let it slip, she didn’t really know why, she nodded towards his desk. Making sure to toss in a mean glare for effect.

The class was decent, with most of the answers being supplied by Hermione of course, and the rest, surprisingly, by Ernie Macmillan.

“Now Mr. Arknook believed that this form of Ruins was introduced to the Wizarding people of Upper Egypt by a form of extinct centaur that lived in the deserts. What information does he have to support this theory?” Professor Babbling asked, turning to the class.

Hermione’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” She smiled.

“The fact that a great portion of the symbols were used in reference to celestial bodies and were used to inscribe the prophecies of the people. And the fact that many of the symbols that were humanoid in shape also had very equine characteristics.”

“Good now can anyone tell me what modern day predict-” She stumbled to a stop when the dull thump of flesh hitting a hard surface assaulted her ears.

She turned to see Padma Patil slumped on the floor with her friends all string at her in surprise.

Hermione was the first on her feet, and surprisingly, Draco Malfoy was right there to helping to hoist the girl off the stone floor.

Her head lulled back and suddenly her eyes snapped open wide , she spoke in a soft voice that had everyone in the room listening immediately and attentively,

“She is born, born from magic and contention. When she enters the world, the fabric of life is compelled to tear. The separate worlds of her makers must shatter, then become melded together in a way they never considered possible. She has the power to save our people, if she is given to chance to grow. For many will seek to take her, to harm her, to use her incredible power. If she is given the chance to grow, she will help him on his quest. The Evil designs to become our master, the Evil must fall. Evil cannot fall if she is not given the chance to grow. 24 moons she must survive, if we are to survive. Only then can she assist him in his fight. Our wicked wish be win against this Lord, we wish to hurl him down.” 

Hermione and Draco stared at the girl in there arms, surprised by her sudden Prophecy.

“I think someone should go get Professor Dumbledore,” Professor Babbling said, “If I’m not mistaken, I think Miss Patil just made a Prophecy about how to end the Second Wizarding War…” She said, suddenly frightened. “In fact, Abercrombie and Boot, you take her to Madame Pomfrey, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, you come with me.”

Euan and Terry jumped from their seats and pulled the again unconscious Padma from Hermione and Draco as Professor Babbling waited patiently.

They were at the stone gargoyles sooner that Hermione expected and Professor Babbling said clearly,

“Lollipop”

They rode the spiral staircase in silence.

Professor Babbling knocked on the Headmaster’s door.

He opened it and smiled in surprise.

“Bathsheba! It’s not very often you come to visit me.” He smiled at Hermione and Draco as well, “I think I may have a good idea what this was about.”

“You know about the Prophecy already?” Professor Babbling asked, bewildered.

“Prophecy? I simply assumed that Miss Granger finally lost her composure with Mr. Malfoy and did a little more than punch him this time…” His eyes twinkled.

“No…No!” Professor Babbling shook her head, trying to screw thought back in place. “Albus, a student made a Prophecy about the war in my classroom just moments ago!”

“One of these students?” He said looking between Hermione and Draco curiously, wondering which one had Seer powers that had escaped him before.

“No, it was a Patil twin.”

“Pravati? Well, I shall have to commend Sybil for finally teaching a student how to produce a proper prediction.”

“What?… NO! Albus! Will you listen to me?!” Professor Babbling cried. “Padma Patil made the Prophecy. A Prophecy about how to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”

“Yes, Bathsheba, but why in the world are Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy joining us for this conversation?” He smiled at them politely.

“I was wondering that myself, Professor.” Draco said, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

“WELL I COULDN’T VERY WELL BRING MALFOY UP HERE WITH OUT IT BEING SUSPICIOUS!” Professor Babbling cried throwing up her hands.

“I beg your pardon?” Dumbledore asked.

“Draco Malfoy heard the Prophecy about how to defeat You-Know-Who, he’ll run to his dormitory as soon as the class is signaled to end and write to his miserable father about it! Do you really want a repeat of October 31st, 1981? Do we really need another Lily and James Potter and another orphaned Harry Potter?! How do we know that this child will even survive if You-Know-Who goes after her?!”

Hermione gasped. She hadn’t even considered the danger of Malfoy hearing the Prophecy, and judging by the look on his face, ha hadn’t considered it either.

“Bathsheba!” Dumbledore scolded, “I’m surprised at you! Holding such prejudices against Mr. Malfoy!” He turned and placed a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder, “I assure you we have nothing to worry about from Draco, Bathsheba. Circumstances have changed.”

“OH NOT ANOTHER ONE!” Hermione sputtered.

“Excuse me, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked politely.

“First Snape and now him?”

“Professor Snape.” Dumbledore corrected.

“Oh, shove off! Professor my arse! How many of these treacherous snakes are you going to trust?! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY BELIEVE HE’S ON OUR SIDE! His father is a horrible man responsible for to many things to count, not the least of which is inadvertently opening the Chamber of Secrets!”

“Miss Granger, are you judging the son for the deeds of the father?” Dumbledore asked, feigning shock.

“Yes! NO! I’m judging the miserable bloody BASTARD for the horrible git-like things he’s done to me and every other decent person in this castle for the past 6 years!” Her cheat was heaving and her wand was sparking dangerously.

Professor Babbling was staring at the girl in alarm, forcibly reminded of how she had thought it would be entertaining to see the all-to-orderly Hermione Granger loose her carefully collected cool. It was decidedly not entertaining and rather frightening as well.

“Draco?” Dumbledore said, turning to the young man with a questioning air.

Draco was staring at Hermione with an expression that was summed up in one word: Disdain.

“You really are a short-sighted, ghastly little wart aren’t you?” He sneered, “What do you think give you the right to harp on about other peoples lives. Lives that you’ve never lived. For the brightest witch of our age, you really can be a dumbass.”

Professor Babbling squeaked reproachfully.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to have gone temporarily deaf, again.

“Why you-you! Run home to you daddy! Why don’t you go cry to you mummy about how unfair life is for you, you pretentious, uppity piece of slime!” She seethed.

“My mother is dead. My father killed her. So if I intend to go anywhere near my father, it is with the intention that he will never draw another breath in his miserable life.” He said calmly, but his eyes had taken on a haunted look.

She opened her mouth to retort before the words sunk in entirely, then left it hanging open in distress.

Lucius killed Narcissa?…

Professor Babbling let out a soft sigh,

“Albus, why didn’t you tell us?…”

“Because I didn’t want I known.” Draco replied, “I wanted to repay the Order by being a spy, but Lord Voldemort informed everyone that I was a traitor before I could even blink.”

“Draco, I think it would be a good idea for you to spread a fake version of this Prophecy. We’ll let the students talk of it, but I want all the students from your class that heard it brought to me. We’ll modify their memories with a copy of the fake.” Draco and Professor Babbling nodded. Hermione was still standing there, her mouth open.

She couldn’t comprehend it. She tried to imagine how she would feel if her father had murdered her mother, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t imagine how he spoke of it so calmly.

“Miss Granger?” Dumbledore called.

She snapped back to reality.

“We must ask you not to discuss this, or Draco’s allegiance with anyone, not even Harry.” She nodded her head slowly.

“I would also like to ask you to join me in studying the Prophecy with Professor Babbling, Professor Trelawney, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Draco. Is that suitable to you?” He added.

“Yes, yes of course.” She replied, not meeting Draco’s eyes, “But why me?”

“We can always use a fresh, youthful set of eyes and ears to give us a new perspective.” He smiled.

She glowed at the complement.

“Professor?” She asked.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Are you going to tell Harry about this at all?” She inquired.

“In time, Miss Granger. When we have something to tell him. This way he won’t worry himself about it until he absolutely has to.” He replied, suddenly looking very weary.

Hermione nodded. Harry didn’t need anything more added to his overly stressed mind.

Dumbledore took her memory, Draco’s memory, and Professor Babbling’s memory of the Prophecy from them.

Hermione marveled at the feeling. She could still remember the Prophecy, it was just fuzzy and blurred. Like a television with bad signal that needed the antenna tweaked, where you only caught half of the word of the show you were trying to watch and missed most of the plot.

“Once I collect the rest of the memories, and modify the one’s that need modified, I’ll contact you all with the time and place we shall meet to analyze and discuss this new turn of events.” Professor Dumbledore said, “You are dismissed.”

A/N: Woo oo, third chapter, sorry it’s kinda late. I thought about making the prophecy in another language, but changed my mind, so that took up some time trying to word it so it would translate over without any big changes. just so you know, that prophecy translates from English to Swedish and back again perfectly! HAHAHA!

~ Onna 

P.S: Did anyone catch the A Very Potter Musical quote I slipped in there? lol. Tell me if you find it and if you get it right I'll give you a shout out in the next chapter!

Chapter 4: Cows, Nimrods, and Quilts
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

"IT’S NOT FAIR PADMA!” Pravati wailed.

Hermione couldn’t hide her self-satisfied smile.

Stupid bint, her and Lavender can go jump into the Lake... 

She listened as the students gathered around where Padma stood. Her twin and her twin’s best friend, the self proclaimed Seers, glowered at the interested people.

“I’m sure it wasn’t a real prophecy!” Lavender said in her insufferably voice, “I mean, you’ve never even had any training. Professor Trelawney say that you absolutely have to have years of training to make a real prophecy!” She snickered at Padma, looking at her pityingly.

“Yeah, I mean, Dumbledore is like, a crazy old coot isn’t he? So how would he, like, know?” Pravati nodded in agreement.

“It was real…” Padma mumbled.

“Well, if you made a prophecy, what did it say?” Lavender sneered.

“I don’t know if I should tell you…” Padma said uncertainly.

See, Vati! I knew she was lying.” Lavender laughed an obnoxious laugh that she apparently thought was of the beautiful, tinkling variety.

“But, it was about You-Know-Who!” Padma said shrilly, “If I tell you, he might hear about it…”

“Yeah, cause I’m totally in love with You-Know-Who and I write him love letters every night telling him how my day went and every word that was said to me!” Lavender snorted, and Hermione swore she saw a bit of snot fall from her nose.

Padma turned red in the face then glared murderously at the repugnant Gryffindor then recited,

“A power is being formed, in a far off land. The power to defeat the Dark Lord. This power is unlike any known to Wizarding kind. If the Dark Lord finds it, we are all doomed. Protect the power, win the war.”

“That doesn’t sound like any prophecy I’ve ever heard…” Lavender jeered.

“Oh please, Padma! How pathetic!” Pravati agreed, “I mean you, like, probably had a dream, and, like, started talking in your sleep or, like, something.” She and Lavender clutched at each other and laughed derisively.

“Whatever, I’ve got to go to Defense…” Padma stomped away.

“Whatever, we’re late for Herbology!” Lavender shot back at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the dreadful display and moved quickly ahead of Pravati and Lavender, trying to tune out the giggling and horrible jibes they were still throwing at Padma.

She’s so nasty to her own sister! How can she let Lavender talk to Padma like that?!

She sat on a bench next to Harry in Greenhouse Number 6, pointedly ignoring Ron.

Professor Sprout had spent the previous one hour lesson on Tuesday lecturing on Red Blossoming Dragon Shrubs, and today they were using the double period to pot some seedlings of the same plant.

“Now!” Professor Sprout called out, “Make sure to wear your dragon hide gloves. Don’t touch the seedlings with anything but the gloves. No bare skin, no clothing, no hair, no wands, no paper, NOTHING! Unless you want to be in the hospital wing with third degree burns for the entire weekend.”

She placed metal containers in front of the groups of three.

Hermione snapped on her gloves and carefully tucked the sleeves of her robes into them. She pulled a gold ribbon out of her pocket and pulled her wavy golden brown hair back into a ponytail.

She carefully reached into the container and pulled out a little sproutling. She examined it closely and jotted down a couple of notes about its appearance. It was the color of a red-hot poker, she could see the heat waves pouring off of it and see the surface bubbling.

She pushed her gloved finger into the soil and dropped the sproutling into the perfect little hole she had made. She looked around with distaste at her fellow students. The only other taking note was Neville, the rest hadn’t even begun the project yet. They were of the opinion that they had plenty of time since it was a double period.

She sighed ad picked up another plant and deftly placed it in the soil at the correct distance Professor Sprout had discussed in her lecture.

“Harry?” She said after planting over 10 plants on her own.

“Hm?” He said, not glancing up from his copy of Quidditch Through The Ages.

“Are you inclined to help me with this assignment at all?” She glared at him.

“What?” He looked up at her, blinking slowly.

“The assignment?” She repeated.

“Oh, yeah. You’re doing a great job!” He smiled at her brightly and went back to his book.

“Harry!” She cried.

“What?” He looked at her curiously.

“Are you going to help me?” She seethed.

“But `Mione, you do it so much better…” He pouted.

“Harry James Potter, all you have to do is stick a bloody plant in the bloody dirt!” She scolded.

He sighed and elbowed Ron in the ribs, who was on his other side flirting shamelessly with Lavender Brown.

“Come’on, Mate. We gotta get started on this.” He said reaching into the metal tub and pulling out a blisteringly hot plant, then carefully sticking it in the soil.

Ron turned and glared at him, then went back to his conversation.

Ron!” Harry said, thumping him in the back of the head.

“Fine!” Ron said turning and reaching into the metal box as well.

“RON! NO!” Hermione shouted, but it was too late.

His blatant flirtation had caused him to miss Professor Sprout’s warning about the gloves.

So he never put him on.

Before his very eyes his skin boiled and peeled, scorching his skin a charred black.

He let loose a piercing howl.

Augamenti!” Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at him and dousing his hand in water.

The burning stopped, but the damaged flesh hung grotesquely and he still withered in pain.

“Mr. Potter! Take Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing. Mr. Weasley, detention. Come see me when you’re healed.” Professor Sprout shouted over the chaos.

Hermione sighed. She should have just finished the project on her own. Now Ron was injured, Harry was gone, and she was still doing the entire project by herself. She sighed again and went back to work until the bell rang at 5:30pm.

She gathered her things and walked slowly across the grounds back to the front doors.

I have an hour and a half before dinner at 7:00pm, I can go see how Ron is, but I’m sure he’ll blame his ignorance on me… I can go to the library and do some research on Seers and prophecies and the like, or I can go back to the common room… and sit around listening to Pravati and Lavender’s dribble. Ew.

Library it is…

She raced through the corridors, up and down steps, and around corners until she was in the library, her safe haven.

“Madame Pince?” She called.

Madame Pince came around the corner looking like the sour old spinster she was.

“Why are you shouting in my library, girl?” She squinted at her through her thick glasses, her sight was failing but she would never admit it. She would find a way to cure it or she wouldn’t have her precious books anymore.

“I need books on the study of Divination, specifically prophesizing.” Hermione said with a weak smile.

“Follow me then…” Madame Pince grumbled, students and their filthy fingers, leaving sticky singer prints and smudges of only the gods knew what all over her prized possessions.

“Here.” She said pulling books of the shelf and handing them to Hermione.

An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural

Companion to the Mind

Paranormal Phenomena: The Burden of Proof

Parapsychology: Science or Magic 

Don’t Believe Everything You Think: The Six Basic Mistakes We Make When Thinking


Psychoenergetic Systems

“There, that should do you.” Madame Pince stomped away.

“Right…” Hermione struggled to balance the six heavy books to the nearest table.

She pulled An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural towards her and read:

Precognition: Also called Future Sight, refers to the perception that involves the acquisition of future information that cannot be deduced from presently available and normally acquired sense-base information.

She flipped through the book which basically covered false prophecies and talked about the studies muggles had done to prove and disprove the power to see the future.

Every book she read said basically the same thing, they talked about what precognition was, talked about famous and infamous Seers, discussed the muggle opinion of such phenomena, and contemplated why some wizards could See and others couldn’t, why muggles with no sign of ever having a wizard in their ancestry sometimes had visions, and why some prophecies never came true.

“There just no information!” She whined, she hated when the library failed her. “What am I suppose to offer Professor Dumbledore…”

She stood up and flicked her wand angrily at the books, watching them zip towards their shelves. Gathering her things, she headed for dinner.

When she took her seat next to Harry and began to spoon soup into her bowl, she did immediately notice the deadly look Ron was giving her.

“So!” He said loudly. She turned to him curiously.

“So!” He repeated, glaring at her murderously.

“Yes, Ronald?” She raised an eyebrow slowly.

“So!” He said for a third time, Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione huffed then turned back to her soup.

“So! First you harp on me about my essay, hit me a couple of time, chat my ear off about helping you with the stupid flaming root-thingys, then when I burn my hand because you wouldn’t stop pestering me you don’t even bother to come see if I’m okay after class!” He accused.

“Merlin’s Pants, what?!” She rounded on him, eyes flashing.

Harry picked up his bowl of soup and gingerly slid out of his chair and around to the other side of the table, no way he was going to be setting in between them for this.

“You heard me, you self-centered hippogriff!” He bellowed, “To lazy to finish the assignment, you were, so you tried to shove it off on me and Harry!”

“It’s Harry and I, Ronald. And for your information it was a group project. Not a lets-flirt-with-an-absolute-cow-while-Hermione-does-my-share project!”

“Did you just call me a cow, Hermione Granger?!” Lavender shrieked.

“Oh, be quiet you! This is a big person conversation.” Hermione snapped at her.

“Why you little!” Lavender stood up and went to draw her wand.

“Don’t be daft, you silly little girl. That would be assaulting the Head Girl!” Hermione rolled her eyes as Lavender’s face turned red, well the places you could see through the badly matched foundation she was wearing did anyways. It gave her a decidedly splotchy and rather unattractive complexion.

“You-You-!” Lavender struggled to come up with anything, anything, to say in response.

“GO TO HELL!” She finally screamed before grabbing Pravati by her braid and yanking her out of her seat.

“We’re leaving!” She snarled.

“But Lav! I haven’t finished my dumplings yet!” Pravati whined.

“Forget it, you could do to skip a couple of meals anyways.” Lavender sneered as she dragged the protesting girl from the Great Hall.

“And you!” She rounded on Ron again.

“It is not my bloody fault that you’re too thick to listen to a single word that comes out of Professor Sprouts mouth! And for your information, I was in the library doing some research for Professor Dumbledore!” She bellowed.

“I’ve got fucking detention for Sprout every weekend until the end of bleeding October!” He roared, they were face to face, both ready to throttle the other.

“Guys?” Harry said timidly.

“WHAT?!” They rounded on him simultaneously.

“Umm… Professor Dumbledore is heading this way?” He offered.

“Shit! I’m in so much freaking trouble now, thanks a lot, Hermione!”

“Why-Why- I should curse you into oblivion!” She said, her voice deadly. Ron gulped.

“Miss Granger?” Professor Dumbledore said right behind her.

“Yes, Professor?” She smiled sweetly at him. Harry blinked.

Gilrs and their ruddy mood swings… 

“I’m here to inform you that the Head Dormitory is ready for your arrival. And that we will be studying your new lesson Saturday afternoon at 1:00pm.” His eyes twinkled and slid from Hermione’s charming smile, to Ron’s puce colored face, to Harry’s baffled expression.

“Have a good evening, Miss Granger.” He winked and walked away.

“Professor!” She called after him.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Could I possible have some assistance with my things?” She asked.

“A house elf has already taken care of that, Miss Granger.”

“Hmph.” She nodded, a sour look on her face.

“What new lesson?” Ron asked, completely forgetting his earlier hurtful words.

“Not that you would care, Ron Weasley!” She shouted, suddenly feeling very emotional. She stood up and ran from the hall, fighting back tears.

She ran all the way to the 4th floor and through a side corrior, approaching a portrait of a beautiful woman with a pig’s snout. Lady Hildegard, the Hog-Faced.

“Password?” She simpered.

“Ronald is a nimrod!” She shouted in exasperation.

“Vell, you got ze password, although I’m not sure it vhas intentional…” The portrait gave her a withering look, but she swung open anyways.

“Wait,” Hermione blinked. “What exactly was the password.”

“Nimrod.” Lady Hildegard sniffed disapprovingly.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and entered her new home for the remainder of the year.

She looked around and caught her breath. As much s she hated to admit it, she was standing in the entrance to the most amazing common room she had ever seen. Better even, she admitted grudgingly, then Gryffindor Tower.

The room had a high ceiling that extended up two stories, the carpet was a deep emerald green, and the walls were of the same color with intricately painted gold vines winding their way up.

It was circular, to her left was a large marble fireplace surrounded by squashy looking golden armchairs and shiny mahogany desks. To her right appeared to be a small library that made her sigh with obvious pleasure.

Directly across from the portrait hole was a grad sweeping staircase made of the same polished mahogany wood as the desks and bookcases. It lead up to a balcony that circled the entire room and appeared to hold a second floor.

Giddy, she rushed over to the staircase and hurried up it, trailing her fingers along the smooth wood of the beautifully crafted railing. At the top she turned to look back over the room and breathed deep, the view was breathtaking, it was too bad she was a horrible flyer.

She giggled and spun in a circle, practically skipping as she went around the balcony to her room. A gold plaque winked on the door and she almost started crying when she read it,

                                                Hermione Jean Granger 
                                                   7th year Gryffindor 
                                                          Head Girl 
                                                        1997-1998

She flung open the door and squealed in delight at the sight before her. Her very own room, from her very own house back in Muggle Accrington.

She had know it was coming because Percy Weasley had spoiled the surprise for her years ago by whining that if he had wanted his dreadful old room from the Burrow, he would have stayed there.

Hermione on the other had, loved her room.

The hard wood floor was bare except for a beautiful rug her mother had bought her in Italy. She had placed it right next to her bed so that it was also situated in front of her sturdy old writing desk that was coved in ink stains and rings from forgotten drinks. She had her own personal book collection and a normal sized closet, with a normal amount of decent, respectable, and modest clothing. She was content.

She flopped back onto her old sleigh bed with it prim white sheets and pillows, covered with the quilt her Grandma Margaret had made her. The quilt was made of floral patterns that she felt suited her personality perfectly and she had been so happy to see it.

Concluding to try to get a little bit of sleep before her midnight Astronomy class that took place every Friday night/Saturday morning, she decided to forgo the rest of her tour and resolved to curl up happily on her beautiful quilt.

And there she slept. Never seeing the pair of stormy grey eyes watching her curiously through the crack of the door. 










A/N: Tell me what you think! By the way… doesn’t the dormitory sound kinda familiar?… if you know tell me and I’ll give you a shout out!

~ Onna

P.S. no one has caught the A Very Potter Musical quote in the last chapter, you could be the first! Hint: In the musical, Dumbledore says it to Hermione, in this Draco says it to Hermione!








A/N: Welcome readers of HR:NG! I hope you will enjoy this story as much as you did HR:NG. Remember, this is the prequel to HR:NG it is focused on Hermione and Draco. A lot of my gibberish from the other will be answered in this!

To my faithful readers who began with this story, when this is finished, the sequel is called Hogwarts Reborn: The Next Generation... although a title change has been considered!

Thanks for reading, new and old!

~Onna

Chapter 5: When What You Think Was, Isn't
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Hermione awoke Saturday afternoon, sat up and looked around her room with a happy smile.

Then her heart sank when she remembered her argument with Ron the night before at dinner.

Ever since she was 11 years old and she first met Ron and Harry, she had decided she would marry one of them some day.

But now it seemed that Harry was head over heals for Ginny, even though their relationship hadn’t progressed past the shy ‘Hi’ phase and the discreet holding of hand under the dinner table/snuggle when no one’s looking in the common room agenda.

And Ron was becoming more and more of an insufferable git every day.

She sighed,

Do I want to become just another ‘Mrs. Weasley’? I mean, if everything works out to the idle nature of human society, there will be six new ‘Mrs. Weasleys’ in the next couple of years. What with Bill and Fleur getting married this summer, it’s just the beginning… 

No, I think I shall fine a prestigious man, with a unusual name. That way when people see me they will be say, ‘That’s Mrs. So-and-So!’ not ’oh look, it’s Mrs. Weasley!’ ‘Which one?’ ‘The youngest one, I think…’ 

She sighed, then scolded herself. She needed to focus on her assignment for the day. Meeting to study the Prophecy.

Hermione was nervous. It was usually Harry who went off and had study sessions with Professor Dumbledore.

She stepped into a ankle length skirt that was a pretty hunter green color and flowed about her. It reminded her of a peasant girl heading to market or something quaint like that. She then pulled on a white sweater and a sensible pair of beige ballet flats.  Rubbed a relaxing serum through her hair that made it fall into beautiful, honeyed brown ringlets, then pulled it up into a sensible ponytail, and grabbed a quill and parchment, determined to take notes at this meeting.

She exited her room and walked around the balcony to the stairs. She heard the sound of Malfoy’s bedroom door opening and hurried down the staircase into the common room. She did not want to get stuck with walking with him all the way to the Headmaster’s office.

“Granger.”

To late. Ever polite, she paused and waited for him to catch up. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a logo for some Wizarding band on it. Regular tennis shoe adorned his feet and his hair was as gel free as it had been since the beginning of the year.

She began walking again as soon as he was even with her.

They opened the portrait hole and entered the side corridor, heading for the main corridor.

“So…” She said, the silence was killing her. “Living with Tonks has really had an impact on you, then?” She said, referring to his clothes.

He grabbed her by the arm and swung her around so that her back collided with the stone wall of the side corridor.

“Are you a damn fool?” He hissed, the look in his eyes spelled out murder.

She shook her head no, to startled to think.

“Do you want to compromise my entire mission?” He asked.

“No!” She squeaked.

“Do you want my mother to have died for nothing?” He snarled, grip tightening on her arm.

“Of-Of Course not!” She gasped.

“Then keep your ruddy mouth shut!” He released her, “And don’t ever mention me living with Dora again.”

He turned and continued up the corridor, leaving her gasping for breath. He hadn’t hurt her, it was more that she hadn’t been expecting that kind of reaction when she had only been trying to make conversation.

Now, she could either hang back until he was a good distance away then follow, or jump right back on the proverbial horse and catch up with him, try to start over.

No one could ever say Hermione Granger was a coward. She ran and caught up with him just before he was to enter the main corridor.

“Malfoy!” She called.

He paused, waiting for her.

“We really can’t just walk down the corridor together, Granger. It will make it even harder for me to convince the other children of Deatheaters that I’m not a spy.” He whispered. “You walk down the corridor, head for the Great Hall. I’ll catch up with you and say that we received and Owl from the Headmaster to meet him. It won’t be suspicious that way seeing as how we’re both Heads.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he spoke, he was peering round the corner.

“How about you walk to the Great Hall and I’ll come and fetch you?” She snapped, irritated

He looked at her with a level gaze, like someone dealing with an irreprehensible child.

“All right then.” He said, she swore she saw him roll his eyes. He began to walk away.
Only then did she realize she would have to stand there for a good ten minutes before she could go and tell him that they had ‘received an Owl’ and were to ‘report to the Headmaster immediately.’

“He bloody well tricked me…” She realized. “He made me argue with him so he wouldn’t have to be the one to stand here!” Angry, she took off after him.

He was only at about the third floor when she caught up to him. Deciding there were enough people around to pull of their charade she called out,

“Malfoy!” Loudly, and grinned when he froze.

“Yes?” He drawled, it shook her for a moment because she had become so use to his soft spoken, yet fierce monotone. The drawl was all just part of his act now, it chilled her to think it could be the other way around if he was that good of an actor. Could he really be a spy for Voldemort and the story about his mother fake?… But no, the Order had buried Narcissa Malfoy themselves.

“We need to go to the Headmasters office immediately, we’ve Head duties to attend to. I receive an owl shortly after you left.” She replied smartly, glad her shaken nerves hadn’t translated over to a shaky voice. She sounded firm and confident.

“Right…” He drawled, grey eyes cold. He turned to follow her to the Heads office.

“Ice Mice!” Hermione told the Gargoyle, and it sprang aside.

“You were suppose to wait until I got to the Great Hall.” He said as soon as the Gargoyle closed behind them.

“It was crowded enough, people heard.” She replied shortly.

“Not the right people, just a bunch of piteous Gryffindors and some groggy Ravenclaws.” He glared at her, “I need the Slytherins to hear it.”

She hadn’t thought about that, “…Oh.”

“Yes, ‘Oh’.” He snapped, stepping off of the moving spiral staircase and knocking on Dumbledore’s office door.

“Come in! Come in!” Professor Dumbledore cried cheerily.

Hermione’s face had colored with embarrassment, and now she took a deep breath, hoping that the red wouldn’t be visible to the other occupants of the room.

They entered and Hermione smiled around politely at the occupants of the room.
“Hello, Professor Babbling.”

“Good Morning, Professor McGonagall.”

“I hope this morning is treating you well, Professor Snape.”

“Nice to see you again, Professor Trelawney.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Professor Trelawney, what is your take on an untrained individual having made a prophecy? All the research I’ve done hasn’t explained it to me very well.” She smiled sweetly at the batty woman before her.

Professor Trelawney blinked her enormously magnified eyes and drew in a squeaky, shaky breath.

“I see you, my dear, are still as closed minded as you were four years ago.” She sighed dramatically. “Of course you didn’t find the answer you seek in some book! Books are tools for those who do not posses the Third Eye! Your Third Eye has been glued shut by the ‘knowledge’ you so desperately need, nay worship!”

“Sybil!” Professor McGonagall seethed, “Miss Granger is one of the brightest students I’ve had in ages, she is a brilliant witch.”

“That may be, Minerva! But the girl is very judgmental, she sees the world as black an white. Good and Evil. She doesn’t believe in shades of gray…” She sighed as if it was the saddest thing she had ever heard.

Hermione forced a smile. “Professor, you didn’t answer my question…”

“What? Oh! Well, from what I’ve gathered from dear, dear Pravati, her family hails from New Delhi a couple of generations back. That area is prone to produce Seers. I suspect that it’s where they both got their remarkable powers. Twins are more likely to have the Sight, you know.” Sybil fretted the end of one of her multi-hued shawls.

Draco watched the young woman before him. She was like the perfect little house guest. For some reason it annoyed him that she was always so prim. Then he heard her pause.

“Hello. I’m Hermione Granger, the Head Girl. It’s nice to meet you ma’am.” She said, her voice had started uncertain, she had been surprised, then became more confident as se introduced herself.

Draco looked up, he hadn’t even noticed the other occupant of the room. She was a woman with brunette hair, angular glasses, and sharp features. She wore a pair of periwinkle blue robes that seemed to bright for her personality.

“Good Morning, Miss Granger. My name is Governor Nikolle Radbaum. I’m one of the school Governors, but I’m also an Unspeakable. I work in the Prophecy room in the Department of Mysteries.” She shook Hermione’s hand politely.

“Hello, I’m Drake Tonks.” Draco said without missing a beat. He extended his hand and shook hers.

“Hello, Drake.” She smiled. Hermione gave Draco an odd look. “Are you related to Nymphadora Tonks the Auror?”

“Yes, she’s my cousin.” Draco smiled charmingly.

Hermione saw that the Professors didn’t seem shocked by his chosen name.

Governor Radbaum turned to speak with Minerva, and Hermione took a seat. Draco sat next to her.

He leaned close to her, his mouth almost touching her ear and breathed,

“Wiped that look off your face, it’s necessary. She’s muggleborn and has never had any close contact with my family. She replaced my father on the board and never met him. However, she’ll be suspicious of a Malfoy being here and probably spread the word.” He leaned away from her. No one seemed to have noticed the exchange.

Hermione was rattled. He seemed to have no problem touching her, talking to her, sitting near or next to her. Before he would have protested or acted disgusted.

Was this what he was willing to do to avenge his mother?

“Governor Radbaum is here to help us understand the Prophecy.” Professor Dumbledore informed them with his serene smile in place. “Now, let’s begin.”

He pulled out his pensieve and played Padma Patil’s own memory of her prediction.

“She is born, born from magic and contention. When she enters the world, the fabric of life is compelled to tear. The separate worlds of her makers must shatter, then become melded together in a way they never considered possible. She has the power to save our people, if she is given to chance to grow. For many will seek to take her, to harm her, to use her incredible power. If she is given the chance to grow, she will help him on his quest. The Evil designs to become our master, the Evil must fall. Evil cannot fall if she is not given the chance to grow. 24 moons she must survive, if we are to survive. Only then can she assist him in his fight. Our wicked wish be win against this Lord, we wish to hurl him down.”

“Obviously, a new ‘Chosen One’ is being born.” Professor Snape said, a smug look on his face.

“Or has been born.” Minerva added in.

“Looks like destiny has lost faith in Harry Potter.” Professor Snape sneered at both Dumbledore and Hermione.

“OH!” Professor Trelawney cried, clutching her head. “I’m getting something! Something dark… the failings of Harry Potter are certain!” Everyone gave her an exasperated look and talked over her.

“Well, that much is apparent.” Bathsheba replied, “That another child is being born. But it says ‘she will help him on his quest.’ That must mean that they’re destined to assist Mr. Potter in defeating You-Know-Who.”

“Lord Voldemort.” Came the voices of Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, and Draco. Everyone looked at them in surprise.

“Yes… well, if that’s the case, then are we going to have to wait another 20 years for this child to be of any help? Are we going to have to protect this one from He-Who-” Dumbledore shot Governor Radbaum a stern look, “L-Lord Vol-V-Voldemort as well?” She finished shakily.

“Maybe they’re already born?” Hermione ventured timidly.

“No, if that was the case, then the Prophecy would have been in a past tense. It says ‘When she enters the world’ not ‘When she entered the world.’ That means she obviously isn’t born yet.” Governor Radbaum answered.

“So we can assume this is a female child then?” Draco asked, “It’s not like the gender neutral ‘He’ that a lot of prophecies are made in?”

“I think it’s safe to assume it is a female, seeing as how ‘she’ was used through out.” Dumbledore nodded.

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Lets go back to the beginning and pick it apart from there.” Snape interjected.

“She is born from magic and contention.” Dumbledore recited. “Anyone care to give an explanation?”

“Born from magic could possibly mean that the child is a Pureblood.” Professor Babbling said.

“Or is born to parents who are both magical. So we can rule out Muggleborns and children born to one muggle and one magical folk.” Minerva added.

“So a Pureblood or a child with two magical parents who isn’t necessarily a Pureblood?” Hermione repeated.

“Exactly, now what comes next?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“When she enters the world, the fabric of life is compelled to tear.” Dumbledore recited, a small smile upon his lips.

His words were greeted with silence.

“Perhaps she will be born in an natural way?” Professor Trelawney sad meekly.

“And what would you propose is an ‘unusual way’?” Professor Snape sneered.

“I don’t know, they cut the baby out?” She asked.

“That happens all the time…” Hermione said.

“What? What in the world are you talking about?” Professor Trelawney blinked in surprise.

“It’s called a Cesarean Section. It’s quite common in the Muggle world. In emergency situation they surgically remove the infant.” Governor Radbaum replied. The wizards in the room looked sickened for a moment.

“Well if the child is born to a Pureblood couple, that would be unusual.” Professor McGonagall shuttered.

“I don’t think that’s it at all… I think it has a much deeper meaning that we won’t understand until we actually meet the child.” Hermione said.

Dumbledore nodded, then said, “The separate worlds of her makers must shatter, then become melded together in a way they never considered possible.”

“So… her parents don’t know each other well, or maybe they don’t like each other. An arranged marriage maybe? They’re quite common in Pureblood families.” Professor Babbling commented.

“Yes, and the baby helps them to connect. Makes them love each other. Or at least endure each other’s presence.” Professor McGonagall added.

“She has the power to save our people, if she is given to chance to grow. For many will seek to take her, to harm her, to use her incredible power.” Dumbledore was moving through the Prophecy quickly.

“Well, we already concluded that she’s to aid Harry Potter against the Dark Lord and to do that she has to grow.” Draco said, “So, from what I gather, her existence won’t be a secret for long. ‘Many will seek to take her’ so maybe more then Voldemort will be after her…”

“Who else would want her?” Hermione wondered.

“That may be another question we can’t answer until she’s here.” Governor Radbaum sighed.

“To use her incredible power… So she’s got some sort of amazing super power?” Draco asked.

“Maybe, or maybe she will just be a very talented witch with a steady hand in magic.” Professor Snape answered.

“The next part of the Prophecy reinforces our opinion that she will help Harry Potter, but she has to grow first. The next portion goes ‘24 moons she must survive, if we are to survive. Only then can she assist him in his fight.’” Dumbledore said.

“24 moons is a term used by muggles that means two years.” Hermione said.

“So a toddler is going to defeat the Dark Lord?” Snape almost laughed.

“It already happened once, Severus.” Minerva snapped. Snape glared at her.

“And if she doesn’t survive… we won’t survive.” Hermione whispered, “So that means if she doesn’t survive, Harry won’t win…”









Hermione left the office, her head buzzing like someone had placed the Muffliatio Charm on her.

Harry can’t win if this kid isn’t found! How ridiculous! Harry has enough on his plate, now we have to find some baby and convince them to let us put her into protective services… 

Life was never fair, and Hermione Granger was about to find out just how unfair it actually was.

Chapter 6: Iuncito Venenum
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

October 3rd, 1997

Hermione was stubborn. And she knew she was stubborn.

She refuse to talk to Ronald Weasley again until he apologized to her for calling her all those dreadful names in the first week of school. She was actually quite proud of herself. It had been almost a month. And at least Harry was getting a taste of his own frog spawn himself. That daft argument he’d had with Ron back in 4th year during the Triwizard Tournament where Hermione had to play messenger between the two idiots? Well now that was Harry’s job. Sort of. Because Hermione wouldn’t even stoop to delivering messages to Ron using someone else. As far as she was concerned, Molly Weasley had given birth to the twins 1979 and hadn’t had anymore children until 1981 when she popped out Ginevra.

The week had been going well, despite a certain Draco Malfoy slipping an extra ingredient into the potion they had been brewing in Wednesday’s Potions class which had changed her hair and his a vivid green colour for the remainder of the day. Other then that, she had aced her monthly exams, had earned a solid 100 points for Gryffindor house with her tutoring, and had written a lovely letter home to her parents.

But now, today, She had to go back to Potions for the double lesson. Two hours of torture at Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape’s capable hands instead of the usual one. Oh, how she hated Fridays. Double Potions and the end of the work week leaving her with absolutely nothing of any value to do for two days.

She slipped on her stockings, uniform skirt, blouse, Gryffindor tie, and sweater (which bore the Hogwarts crest). Slipped on her shoes and tossed her robes over her arm. It was to warm to wear both and she would rather wait until she absolutely had to.

She grabbed a book she was reading, Pride and Prejudice, then hurried down to the Great Hall.

She sighed and surveyed the table.

Well, I very well can’t sit by Harry because Ginny seems to have finally worked up the courage to sit with him now. And Malfoy will wear a tutu and dance around the castle singing ‘Like a Virgin’ before I sit next to Ron… 

So instead, she fixed a snotty expression on her face, marched over and snatched up a Danish, then turned back around and hurried from the hall, ignoring the sounds of protest from her friends.

Now, to find a nice place to sit, eat my Danish, and read a nice book until lessons begin.

She glanced at her ladies wrist watch. 15 minutes. She walked down the flight of stairs into the dungeons and around the corner where she found a nice place to sit and read her book.

When her fellow students came rushing by she stood and moved with the throng.

When sat down at her shared desk with Malfoy, she noted he had a particularly sour look on his face.

Professor Snape told them that they would be concocting a potion used to clean floors. A particularly silly sounding potion to her. After all, you could just go to the muggle super mart and buy a bottle of cleaner.

But Snape was on his ‘Potions For Everyday Life’ kick so…

The potions was fairly simple, for hr at least. She noticed some, like Ron and Pansy, who were having a time with it.

Draco, on the other hand, just sat back and glared into space. She completed the entire potion all on her own with not a word from him. While it was a welcome break from his nagging, she couldn’t help but wonder what was making him so… moody… 







October 15th, 1997

Hermione was furious.

First, she had to put up with Ron chagrin because she still wouldn’t speak to him, all he had to do was apologize for Merlin’s sake!

Then, she had to put up with Draco Malfoy the Sullen’s sarcastic comments all through Care of Magical Creature.

Which in turn, Lead to Harry and Ron bad mouthing Draco all through History of Magic. Which resulted in Draco hexing bits of eraser to pelt the two.

And that caused her to miss Professor Binns’ lecture. Well, not all of it, but the middle 10 minutes were a bit messy on her parchment and that just wouldn’t do!

She marched into her common room and threw her bag onto the couch. Her text books spilled over the floor an it rained parchment. She stomped to the stairs and made it halfway up before she turned back around and raced back to the couch to pick up the mess she had made.

Draco chuckled at her small display of her love of orderliness.

“I SWEAR, DRACO MALFOY, I’LL HEX YOU INTO OBLIVION!” She shrieked, whirling on him wand drawn.

He held up his hands in defense.

“Holy hell, Granger!” He sputtered.

“I’ve had just about enough of you! You and your glowering. Life sucks sometimes. You don’t have to make everyone else miserable just because you are. You’re so selfish!” She glared at him. 

“My mother died.” His eyes narrowed. “I have every right to glower as you put it.”

“Yes, well, both of Harry’s parents died and you don’t see him-”

He was upon her an his han her throat in seconds. Her words gave an odd gurgle and her eyes widened in fear.

“Don’t ever,” He relished at the feel of her body trying to draw in air through the vise of his hand, “Compare me to Saint Potter.”

Her fingers clawed at his wrist, gouging claw like marks into his skin and smearing his blood over her own hands in her desperate attempt to escape.

He released her and she fell to the floor, gasping an massaging her throat.

He walked away, kicking her bag and scattering the contents over the floor again as he went.

She heard his door slam shut and try as she might, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. 







October 31th, 1997 

All these years she had disparaged Harry and Ron without anything more then a harsh word or two back, why hadn't anyone told her she had such a rampant tongue?

It had even shamed her so much that she had said something to Ron. ‘Pass the butter.’ It wasn't much, but it was a start. 

She dressed in her uniform, glad to see the bruising was finally gone form her neck, and hurried down to breakfast.

She entered Double Potions with Harry and Ron and sat next to Draco quietly.

Draco was ashamed of what he had done, but at least she had stopped badgering him all the time.

Professor Snape stood at the front of the class.

“Today,” He began, “We will begin concocting a brew that most of you aspire to make at least once in your life, but sadly most of you never will.” He didn’t look sad about this fact at all.

Iuncito Venenum,” He said.

Hermione’s eyes widened. He wasn’t going to make them brew that, was he? Her cheeks colored in embarrassment.

“The Connection Drug. More commonly know as, The Binding Potion.” He said. “Can anyone tell me what it’s used for?”

More hands then usual were raised, all of the Pureblood students, most of the Halfbloods. Hermione was the only Muggleborn.

“Mr. Weasley?” Snape pointed at Ron. Ron stuttered, he wasn’t use to answering questions in class,

“Uh. Well, you see it’s-uh, well they drink it when they get married?”

“Yes. Thank you Mr. Weasley for that vaguely accurate answer. Mr. Malfoy?” He said. Hermione hadn’t even noticed that Draco had volunteered to answer the question.

“The potion binds two people together magically. It lets them know when the other is in trouble, if they’re being unfaithful, and tells them when the other is feeling ill to name a few of the effects. In a few words, it connects the souls together. It’s been said that if one part of a bonded couple faces the Dementor’s Kiss, both will loose there souls.” His face was expressionless. Had his father felt his mother’s death when he had killed her?

Hermione nodded to herself, his answer was satisfactory.

“Now, in most cases, the potion is permanent. It takes over a year to brew. In this class, you’ll be making one that lasts five minutes. Which normally takes about a month to brew.”

The class looked relieved that they would spend a month on the same potion.

“But I’m requiring it done by next Wednesday, November 5th.” Snape sneered.

The students stared at him in disbelief, a five days to brew a potion that takes a month? Impossible!

“Which means, class, that you’ll have to come with your partner after hours and work on your potion. I’m giving you all leave to be out in the corridors until midnight every night until the 5th. Arrange suitable dates with your partners and se to it that you get this assignment finished on time.”

Hermione felt her breath catching and felt her cheeks coloring, this time with panic.

I have to spend time with him… after class? 

She had been avoiding him diligently. She had to admit she was a tiny bit afraid of him, even though she struggled to be cold and distant about the incident. 

Draco didn’t look to pleased either she noted.

She looks terrified… He thought, watching her clutch her chest and glance at him periodically What have I done? 

He hated being Lucius Malfoy’s son. He hated his quick temper and his sadistic love of causing pain. Both things inherited from his father. It was something he struggled with everyday. When his fingers itched to curse an annoying first year with a good Cruciatus Curse… When his temper flashed and he longed to back hand Pansy across her smug face.

When he knew his face was so frightening that it could be the only reason Granger looked at him with such fear in her eyes ever since that day…

He worked silently on the potion, careful to keep his hands from brushing hers. She jumped every time they made contact.

By the time lesson was over he was biting his tongue through to keep from slamming his fist through the work table.

He threw his things together and decided it was best to miss lessons for the rest of the day.

Pansy attempted to stop him as he left the classroom.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and shoved her. She hit the wall and slid down to the floor, looking up at him. It sickened him to see the adoration in her eyes even then. Maybe she was what was best for him, the only woman who could take his moods in stride. But as he looked down at Pansy, he saw his mother’s lifeless body. Pansy would end up just like his mother. Any woman who loved him would end up just like his mother.

Hermione watched Draco shove Pansy into the stone wall, watched him stare at her as she looked up at him from the dungeon floor with a cold expression, and watched him walk away with out saying a word.

Daphne Greengrass hurried over to Pansy and helped her up.

“Daphne,” Pansy said, smiling at her friend. “He touched me. He looked at me.”

Daphne shook her head and pulled a hanky from her pocket, putting it to the back of her friends head. Hermione watched as it turned scarlet with blood.

“You’re crazy, Pan. He’ll kill you one of these days.” She looked at her, her eyes begging her friend to understand.

“No, you don’t understand.” Pansy shook her head. “He’s not always like that. He just can’t control it. Daph, he tries so hard. He hates hurting me. He always finds me later and apologizes.”

“Pan, you know that’s bull crap. He doesn’t love you if he’s going to hurt you!” Daphne looked like she was going to cry.

“I know he doesn’t love me.” Pansy said, looking the direction he had gone. “But that doesn’t stop me from loving him. The way I see it, he’s going to hurt someone, it might as well be me. I always try to catch him when he’s got that look on his face. When he needs that release. If I get in his way, he can use me before he does something he’ll really regret…” Pansy turned with her friend and walked towards the Slytherin Common Room.

“Pansy, you’re crazy…” Daphne said, tears thickening her words, her hand still holding the blood soaked hanky to her friends head as she helped her walk.

Hermione stared after them, marveling at her rare insight into the Slytherin girls lives.

He can’t control it… he’d had just as bad a day as I’d had that day and I provoked him…

“Wow.” Harry said. “That’s mental! Who would let someone beat on them intentionally?” He whispered to Hermione.

She jumped, she hadn’t realized he had been listening too.

“Yeah…” She said, her hand trailing to her throat.

“Ron went ahead to lunch with Lavender.” Harry said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“Peachy.” She said, linking her arm with his and heading out of the dungeons.





Hermione had noticed Draco’s absence from lessons the rest of the day. And now that she sort of understood his life better, she longed to learn more about him.

When he didn’t show up for the Halloween feast either she was sort of worried. She made a plate of foods that she knew everyone liked and snuck away from the festivities.

When she reached their common room she found him sitting on the couch, reading a book. Her book. Pride and Prejudice.

“It’s a good novel, isn’t it?” She asked sitting next to him. He started and looked up.

“It’s a muggle book, but it’s surprisingly well written.” He remarked.

“Yes, Jane Austen in a remarkable author. Have you read many muggle books?” She asked, handing him the plate of food.

“No, my father would have slaughtered me.” Draco chuckled wryly.

Hermione smiled slightly. Her fear was easing away.

“I relate well to this Mr. Darcy.” Draco remarked. “Such as in chapter three. Mr. Darcy is one of the proudest characters of the novel. His wealth and his manners are impeccable, but there is something about him that makes all the people of Elizabeth's neighborhood regard him as snobby. He creates this reputation for himself when he considers himself too good to dance with any of the local girls. It is taken as an insult to the entire neighborhood, and it won't be forgotten any time soon.”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, well you do have quite a reputation, and I doubt it will be forgotten any time soon.”

Draco sat the book aside and tucked into the food.

“Thank you.” He siad, gesturing at the plate.

“It’s quite alright. I noticed you were there and that you hadn’t gone to lunch either. I figured that since I live up here with you it would be easier then any other option.” 

"Granger..." He said quietly, she glanced up at him nervously. "The other day..." He inclined his head at her. Her hand grazed her neck again, the movement was becoming subconcious. 

"Yes?..." She looked him in the eyes and saw the pain Pansy had been refering to. The regret that you had to look closely to see. Hermione knew well that she had never bothered to look this close before. When he only continued to stare at her, his eyes the only part of him that was really speaking, she nodded her head.
 
"... I'm not going to say it was okay. And I don't forgive you for it. But I will say this, I was just as prepared to hurt you as you were to hurt me. You just acted first." She said, her eyes speaking volumes, "I would have hexed you without hesitation."

His lips pulled back in a sneer. "Well I guess I'm lucky then..." 

"Or unstable." She whispered. He laughed and it sent chills down her spine.

"You have no idea, Granger." He ran a hand through his platinum locks, leaving it in a mad disaray. “So… when are we going to work on this potion?” He asked.

“Well, we have astronomy at midnight tonight. So how about tomorrow afternoon, and Sunday afternoon. Then we’ll work out the rest after classes Monday?” Hermione suggested.

“Fair enough.” He grunted, going back to the plate of food. 

Hermione stared at him, her fear would probably never go away. But she would never let him know just how afraid she was. 





November 4th, 1997. 10:45pm. 

“We’re almost finished with this blasted thing!” Hermione said, her face blotchy and her hair frizzing out from her ponytail as she leaned over the cauldron in Snape’s classroom.

She noticed that even though the potion was due tomorrow, they seemed to be the only group who had completed it. Well, almost completed it.

“What’s next?” Draco asked.

“3 unicorn hairs.” Hermione read from the text.

“Really?” Draco asked, looking at her strangely.

“Yes, that’s what it says.” Hermione glared back at him.

“Well that’s just odd seeing as how everything else has come in two’s why all of a sudden three?” He asked, an eyebrow cocked warily.

“I have no idea, Malfoy! I’m just reading the text.” She snapped.

“Maybe it’s a typo?” He asked.

She picked up three unicorn hairs and threw them in the potion deftly, turning back to the text. Draco quickly picked up a spoon and fished one out when she wasn’t looking.

They added the last ingredients and got to the final stage. Their own blood. A vial of each.

Snape had helped them all collect it earlier in the week and they went an removed it from the specialized storage unit in the back of the classroom.

“Ready?” Draco asked.

“Ready.” Hermione answered.

IUNCITO!” They said together as they tipped their vials over the cauldron and watched the sticky red liquid pour into the bubbling mix.

They stood and waited for it to turn the customary clear color.

BOOM!

The potion exploded, knocking them off their feet and into the work stations behind them, causing the potions there to spill everywhere. Draco grabbed Hermione and rolled her away from the boiling mess on the dungeon floor.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Hermione shrieked.

“WHAT DID I DO? WHAT DID YOU DO!” Draco said, having forgotten all about removing the one small unicorn hair from the mixture.

“Oh! OH!” Hermione gasped, trying to hold back her panic. “We ruined those other potions! Professor Snape is going to expel us for sure!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “He won’t expel us! Just give us a zero and detention for the rest of the year.”

“I’ll loose Head Girl! I won’t get into a good university!” Hermione wailed.

Draco heard a small noise.

“Granger, will you shut up for a minute.” He said, listening intently.

“What will my parents think? What will Professor McGonagall say?”

“Hermione, SHUT UP!” He snarled, putting a hand over her mouth.

Shocked, she fell silent and listened. It sounded like something struggling. Then tiny gasps of breath.

They stood up slowly and approached their cauldron cautiously.

Hermione peered inside an her face went pale. Draco stood back, wondering what she was doing as she reached inside the cauldron.

She turned to face him, horror twisting her features in a very unreal way.

He looked down at what she was holding cradled in his arms just as the wailing started.

A tiny baby, with his blonde hair and silvery eyes, eyes that were shaped just like Hermione’s, stared back at him.

Chapter 7: Into Their World
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

A/N: Here it is! Sorry for the wait. I agonized over this chapter long and hard. Thanks to ghpotter (hope I got your username right, Ily) for her creative input!




The infant’s wail jarred Hermione to the very core. She’d never held a baby before. Her eyes were locked with Draco’s, but she tore them away from his shocked expression, down to the tiny face of the child cradle in her arms.

The perfect little face was screwed up in indignation, fat tears coursed down its flushed cheeks, and the thick curls of blonde hair were plastered to its skull with a coating of clear liquid that she could only assume was what was left of their potion.

How had this happened?

Draco stared at the creature, repulsed. It couldn’t possibly be real. It was some disgusting… thing. Like leprechaun gold, it would probably disappear in an hour.

He looked around for a trash receptacle to put it in until it… did what ever it would do.

Hermione felt the tiny frantic heartbeats of the baby in her arms. She could feel the shivers that wracked the miniature body. It occurred to her bewildered mind that the newborn must be cold. She shakily drew her wand and waved it through the air.

Draco watched as a strip of some sort of cloth trailed from the end of her wand. He watched, curious. 

He watched in disbelief as she wrapped a blanket around it and cuddled it to her chest. Hermione’s fingers trailed through the blonde curls and tears flowed down her cheeks.

Hermione cried tears of desperation. What had they done? She couldn’t have a child. She couldn’t be a mother. It wasn’t fair to the beautiful little one that had stopped it’s mewling at the warmth. What life could she give this child she had created? She had brought another defenseless, innocent person into a world plagued by Voldemort.

Draco’s abhorrence was too much for him.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” He hissed.

“It-It was shaking… It was cold…” Hermione said, her eyes never leaving the minute face of the child she held in her arms.

“Who cares if it’s cold? We need to get rid of it.” His lips curled back in revulsion. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the thing could possibly be made of to make it seem so life-like.

“Get rid of it?” She raised wary eyes to the young man before her.

“Just put it somewhere until it… dissolves… or evaporates… or something.” He cringed when it made a hiccupping sound.

“Dissolves?” She repeated, stunned. “Are you crazy?! It’s a baby!” She whispered viciously, glancing at the sleeping form in her arms guardedly.

“It is not a baby.” He said, his lips pressed in distaste when the thing yawned and placed a tiny fist on Hermione’s breast. “I can’t even begin to understand why you’re even… touching it.” He shuddered and looked away. He couldn’t bear the sight.

…born from magic and contention. When she enters the world, the fabric of life is compelled to tear. Born from magic and contention… Fabric of life…

“Born from magic…” Hermione whispered. Her eyes snapped back to the babe in her arms, and for the first time she realized it was a girl. A GIRL. “It’s her.”

“What?” Draco barked, irritated that she was still blithering on about the…creature. “What in Hades are you talking about?”

“THE PROPHECY!” Hermione screamed, panic ripping through her body. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do, staring at Draco with a look of absolute horror etched upon her face. Without warning, she turned and bolted through the dungeon door, almost knocking over a few other simmering cauldrons in her haste. The startled cries of the baby rang around the corridor, echoing off the damp stones, and disorienting her even more.

“Bloody- WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!” He shouted, taking off after her.

She was fast. He couldn’t believe how fast she was! He saw a flash of her robe disappearing as he mounted the stairwell, scampering to the top as quickly as he could.

After two floors he realized where she was heading. Dumbledore’s office.

“Shit!” He swore. She couldn’t show that horror to the Headmaster! What was she thinking? “GRANGER! Come back here!”

He rounded the corner too late. She was too far ahead for him to stop her.

“Licorice Wands!” She shouted as she ran up on the statue. The gargoyle squeaked and jumped aside quicker then either of them had ever seen it move.

She raced up the spiral staircase and shouldered through the office door, shielding the baby with her body.

“Professor!” She rasped, her breath grating painfully against the raw sides of her esophagus.

Albus Dumbledore looked up from his book, seeming unfazed by the sudden interruption to his evening entertainment. He peered over his half moon glasses perched on the tip of his crocked nose and took in the terrified young woman standing in front of him before he had even registered the wailing infant clutched in her arms.

“Professor… It’s -I mean I think- that it’s her.” Hermione stammered.

“Her?” Dumbledore repeated, rising slowly to his feet.

“The child. From the prophecy.” Hermione said.

“Ahh…” Dumbledore breathed, gazing at the child. “Where ever did you find her? Who are her parents? And how did you convince them to give her to the Order?”

“I-well, I guess that I’m her mother…”Hermione choked, expecting some reaction of disbelief from the elderly man before her.

“I see…” He said, eyes twinkling. “And I’d be right at assuming Mr. Malfoy is the father?”

“How did you know?” Hermione whispered, trying as hard as she could to not let her brain link the two together.

“It all makes sense now…” Dumbledore said, reaching his long-fingered hands out to take the babe from her arms. Hermione surrendered the child hesitantly. Though she’d only been a mother for less than an hour, her maternal instincts had already kicked in.

“Albus Dumbledore, I would have thought you of all people would never believe that a baby came out of a cauldron.” Draco said, his voice low and deadly.

“A cauldron?” Dumbledore repeated. “Interesting…” He took the wailing child into his arms and pulled the blanket aside to peer at her. The child seemed to quiet at the old mans touch and seemed to be gazing into his twinkling blue eyes, even though she couldn’t see more then fuzzy outlines, like all newborns.

“Explain to me how this beautiful angel came to alight upon our world.” He said, scrutinizing her face.

“We were brewing the Iuncito Venenum for Professor Snape’s potion project and something went wrong.” Draco said, stepping further into the room. “Dumbledore, this isn’t normal. This doesn’t happen. She.. She can’t be… real? Can she?” His voice broke a little, and he refused to look at the bundle in Dumbledore’s arms.

“We shall see. But while I run some test, tell me everything.” He pulled out his wand.

“Tests?” Hermione squeaked, stepping forward and reaching out towards the baby, her baby. “What sort of tests?” She eyed his wand nervously. Draco moved forward and caught her arm, stopping her.

“Not to worry, Miss Granger. Just the normal tests they run on newborns. Just like if you had given birth to her naturally at St. Mungo’s.” Dumbledore smiled at her in an assuring way.

“I really don’t know what to say. We were brewing the potion. We followed the instructions precisely. We added the blood and waited for it to change, but it exploded. And then the baby was in the bottom of the cauldron.” Hermione said. Draco was too intent on what Dumbledore was doing to remember the one tiny hair he had removed from the potion.

Dumbledore ran his wand over the baby, a quill on his desk racing across a blank sheet of parchment.

He nodded then waved his wand a final time. A bassinet appeared next to his desk. He laid the newborn in it gently.

Then he tapped his wand to the parchment and handed two copies to Hermione and Draco. Hermione took a seat next to the bassinet and Draco sat down next to her.

“She is in fact a living breathing little girl. The potion, instead of binding your souls, bonded your blood together.” He looked at them seriously. “She is as if you -eh-hm- procreated and Miss Granger carried her for 9 months. What I’m trying to say is that if you two had ever decided to have children together, this little girl would be the equivalent. The DNA tests I ran confirmed it.”

Hermione felt faint. She was a mother, and Draco Malfoy was the father of that child.

“Now, she’s perfectly healthy. Just a little hungry.” He smiled slightly. “So there’s nothing to worry about. Congratulations on becoming new parents.”

“WAIT!” Draco shouted, “Wait, wait, wait!” He shoved his chair back and slammed his fist down on the desk in front of him. “I’m not a parent. I’m not a father! I didn’t shag Granger and knock her up! I didn’t ask for this to happen.”

“Neither did I, Malfoy! Nor would I ever let you touch me.” Hermione glared at him. “But she is our baby. Whether you had sex with me or not. Of course, I don’t expect you to be around.” She sneered at him.

“Be around?” Draco fixed her with a hard stare. “What do you mean be around?”

“You don’t have to be her father. I don’t need you. She’ll have six perfectly good uncles.” Hermione said curtly.

“What are you talking about? You’ll hand her over to the Order and be done with it.” Draco said.

“I will never, NEVER, abandon my daughter.” Hermione whispered furiously.

“Now, now!” Dumbledore interjected. “Let’s discuss some things first.”

“Like what, old man?” Draco sneered. He had yet to take his seat again. Dumbledore merely looked at him, piercing him with his stare until Draco fell silent.

“The prophecy. And how it pertains your dau-” Draco opened his mouth to object, “Miss Granger’s daughter.” Dumbledore corrected himself politely, though with a slight edge of disapproval in his voice. Draco nodded and took his seat, shoving it away from Hermione.

“Now, everything we couldn’t understand before makes sense.” Dumbledore said. “Such as ‘She is born, born from magic and contention’. She is made from magic. I would say the level of magic in her blood is equal to that of the first purebloods. And contention could refer to the dark times she was born into, but I rather like to think that you were arguing while brewing the potion.” He smiled lightly.

Hermione’s eyes were resting upon her baby, and Draco was looking anywhere but at the bassinet.

“When she enters the world, the fabric of life is compelled to tear. The separate worlds of her makers must shatter, then become melded together in a way they never considered possible.” Dumbledore quoted. “Well, the ‘fabric of life’ sure tore when this little one arrived. There’s not another like her. And even though Mr. Malfoy is less then willing to be a father, he is still connected to you, Miss Granger, for now on in a way that can never be reversed. And I’m sure neither of you ever expected this to be that case for even a moment in your entire lives.” Hermione snorted and Draco rolled his eyes.

“And the rest…” Dumbledore stared off into space, “Well, we won’t know for awhile what the rest of it means.” He turned to face Hermione completely. “Miss Granger, do you understand exactly what this means? You’ll be an 18 year old girl taking care of a newborn in her N.E.W.T.s year at a boarding school. And not just any newborn. A newborn who has the fate of the entire world resting on her tiny shoulders.”

Hermione set her shoulders and looked his straight in the eye with a grave expression. “I understand completely. She’s not a weapon, she’s a baby. She needs her mother. I’ll protect her as long as I can, then when I can’t do it on my own anymore, then and only then will I accept the Order’s protection. For both myself and my daughter.”

Draco caught his breath. The conviction in her voice reminded him of his mother the night she sacrificed everything for him.

“Hermione…” He turned to her. She refused to look at him. “Hermione… can I see her?” He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see this child who was made from his blood.

Hermione scrutinized him, then sighed and scooped the baby out of the bassinet and placed her into his arms.

The baby opened it’s eyes. They were blue, like most newborns, but the Malfoy silver was already warring with the blue creating a smoky glimmer to her eyes. Her hair was thick and curly, unusual for a newborn, and was the same flaxen color that his was. When she opened her tiny bow mouth and yawned a squeaky yawn, he saw his salvation. He saw the anchor he had been looking for his entire life. All of his anger was focused into a fierce protective rage for this child…his daughter.

“Hermione.” He said her name curt and business like, keeping his feelings to himself as he was accustom to. “If you’ll allow it, I’d like to try and be there for my daughter. A Malfoy never runs from his problems.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. It was amazing how quickly his mind had wrapped around the idea. An hour ago he was denying her existence.

“We’ll work something out…” Hermione whispered, nodding at him.

“Speaking of working things out?” Dumbledore interjected. “I suggest you go back to your dormitory. I’ll write to Governor Radbaum and arrange a meeting with the rest of the team as soon as possible. By the end of next week at the latest, I am hoping. I also suggest you avoid lessons until then. I’ll inform your Professors that you are attending a special event representing the School. You’ll be excused until I see it fit for you to return.”

Hermione was so engrossed with the child she didn’t even react when he mentioned missing a week of lessons. She stood and took the baby from Draco’s arms.

“It would also be best if nobody knew about this.” Dumbledore told them in a low voice. “No, not even your parents.” He said as Hermione opened her mouth to argue. “Or Mr. Potter or anyone else. As it is with the prophecy, it is to keep you and the child safe. The less information people know, the easier it will be to protect you. At least for the time being.”

Hermione sighed and nodded. She knew deep down he was right. He was always right.

“Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore smiled slightly, already penning a letter to Governor Radbaum.

“Goodnight, Professor.” They said together, as Draco shrunk the bassinet and placed it in is robe pocket.

They reached their dormitory, too tired for the awkwardness of the situation to really set in.

“I’ll keep her in my room.” Hermione said immediately. Draco didn’t argue with her, following her into the room and setting up the bassinet.

There was a knock at the door and they whirled around, attempting to hide the bassinet from view.

“Who is it?” Hermione squeaked. Who knew their password?…

“Miss?” A shrill voice called out. “It’s Winky, Miss!” Hermione sighed in relief. Winky the House-Elf, who used to work for Barty Crouch Sr. before his untimely death at the hands of his deranged son, and who now worked for the School.

“What is it, Winky?” She asked, opening the door a crack. The tiny elf stood in the hall holding three large sacks.

“I has the things for the little Miss, Miss!” She squeaked.

“For the baby?” Hermione asked curiously, “How did you know?”

“The Big Master told me. The In-Charge-Master.” Winky said.

“Dumbledore?” Draco asked, frowning and opened the door wider. Winky squealed and fell over when she saw him.

“Yes. Yes. Big Master Dumbledore.” She struggled to get back to her feet.

Draco grabbed the bags from her and tugged her to a standing position.

“What’s in these?” He asked, opening one. He jumped back in amazement when several small objects zoomed out like angry bees. A changing table, a small cabinet, and a small dresser expanded in suitable spots around the room.

“Huh.” He grunted, then opened the next. Bottles, boxes of formula, diapers, and wipes flew out and stored themselves in the cabinet and dresser set. The last one contained clothing, baby soaps, and bedding.

Hermione sighed in relief and moved to put the baby on the changing table then paused

“She’s covered in the potion still. But it’s all dry and flaky now.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “If you’ll wait about 15 minutes, I’ll go bathe her.” She told Draco.

Draco nodded, relieved to not have been asked to perform the task himself.

“You go about that, and I’ll see what’s acceptable for a Malfoy to wear in all of this stuff.” He sniffed, looking at the baby clothes with a critical air.

Hermione grabbed some baby shampoo and her own pajamas then hurried to the bathroom around the curve of the balcony.

She looked around the bathroom and bemoaned that the only thing missing from the stuff Dumbledore supplied was one of those baby tubs she had seen advertised on the television. Not that she would even begin to know how to use it, but they looked simple enough.

Then she went right to scolding herself for being greedy. Dumbledore didn’t have to provide them with any of these necessities, shame on her for being so gluttonous!

She contemplated her surroundings, then finally settled on drawing a bath for herself in the pool-like tub and taking the baby in with her.

She made the water just warm enough to be comfortable and stripped her clothes of her body that was sticky with the sweat from her run to Dumbledore’s office. Then, baby still nestled firmly in her arms she stepped into the water until it lapped against her forearms.

She used a washcloth and the baby shampoo too gently wipe away the gritty potion from the infant’s skin. The child squirmed a bit in discomfort, but otherwise she just stared at her with her odd blue eyes.

“Beautiful baby…” Hermione cooed, thinking out loud. “We can’t just call you ‘The Baby’ or ‘She’ for the rest of your life… What are we to name you?”

She thought desperately for a name. Unlike most girls her age, she had never given much thought to what she would name her future children. The other Gryffindor girls in her dormitory had sat up at night giggling about such things, but Hermione had turned her nose up at the idea expecting to have plenty of time to choose.

“April?” She tried, staring at the baby hoping that it would seem appropriate.

“Bailey?”

“Greta?”

“Samantha?”

She listened to the names echo around the bathroom, but nothing stood out to her. She just couldn’t imagine introducing her child as ‘Martha’ or any of the other names her tired brain was tossing at her.

She looked around the bathroom frantically, as if hoping someone would pop out and tell her the perfect name for her daughter.

Her eyes fell upon her pajamas, and then upon the camisole that matched the pants.

“Camisole… what a silly name. What the devil is wrong with my brain?” She snorted with laughter. “Camisole…”

Then her heart skipped a beat, the cogs in her mind ticking over, “But Cammie is a perfectly fine name!” She squealed.

She hurried from the bath, and wrapped the baby in a fluffy towel and dressed quickly. She was eager to hear what Draco thought of the name, for she was a firm believer in equal opportunity.

She walked into her room to see that Draco had been busy. There were two piles of clothes on her bed, and he had one garment in his hand. He appeared to be performing some sort of charm on it. She watched in amazement as the small dress changed from a dull yellowish grey to a beautiful rosy pink.

“What are you doing?” She asked, curious. He turned quickly and she swore she saw a slight blush. But it disappeared rapidly.

“Most of the clothes are suitable, but the colors are not.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t have my daughter wearing puce.”

She was oddly touched that he would care about something like that. She approached the bed and picked an onesie from the pile of ‘acceptable’ clothing that was a bright yellow with daisies. She dressed the baby and laid her in the basinet.

“Draco?” She asked, trying to keep her voice calm and neutral.

“Hm?” He replied, not looking up from his Spellwork.

“What do you think of the name Cammie?” She asked, covering the baby with a soft white blanket.

“For what?” He inquired.

“The baby…” She gave him an odd look.

“Oh…” He sat down a dress he had just charmed a bright emerald green. “I hadn’t even begun to think of what to name her.”

“So… Cammie?” Hermione asked.

“It’s so… informal.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “And my mother’s family had a tradition of naming the children after constellations.”

“Oh…” She had already started to love the name, even calling the child it in her mind. He saw the disappointment on her face, and it sent an odd pang through his heart.

“How about this?” He said. Her head shot up in anticipation. “Cambria is the classical name for Wales. You know the Legend of Camber right?”

She nodded, seeing where he was going with this. “Cambria is a beautiful name.”

“Quite. It has all the sophistication a Malfoy needs.” He tried not to be to proud of his decision. It really was a name fit for a princess.

“Draco… lets name her Cambria Narcissa.” Hermione whispered.

He felt a pang in his heart again. He nodded his head solemnly, “I’d have it no other way. Cambria Narcissa Alastorina Malfoy.”

“Alastorina?” Hermione repeated, confused.

“Alastor Moody.” Draco answered. “He helped me through a lot when my mother died. If it wasn’t for him I probably wouldn’t be here today.” He turned away quickly to hide the look of pain on his face. He busied himself with coloring the last piece of clothing on the bed and banishing the ones he didn’t think were worthy of newest Malfoy.

“Alastorina, then.” Hermione said. “But I’ll still call her Cammie, just as a nick name.”
“That’s perfectly alright with me.” He moved the clothing into the dresser drawer. “I’ll leave you and Cambria be then.” He said. A tingle ran down his spine when he addressed his daughter. He moved to the basinet and leaned down to kiss her now smooth cheek. Then cupped his hand briefly over Hermione’s in a gesture of peace before he left the room, closing the door softly.

Hermione kissed her daughter as well.

“Goodnight, Cammie… Mummy loves you.” She bit back the tears that the simple statement brought to her eyes with a sudden bittersweet jerk and turned out the light for bed.

Chapter 8: Percy's Folly
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Percy Weasley sat at his desk in front of the Minister’s office finishing up some paperwork.

Actually, he was stalling.

He knew that his father was working late and he didn’t want to chance being stuck on the lift with him. Now, you might be thinking ‘Why didn’t Percy just leave with the rest of the employees?’. Well, being the important *insert eye-roll* ministry official that he is, he had entirely to much work to leave at the end of the work day. So now he was stuck sitting at his desk, trying to be productive, until he was sure his father was gone.

And you may also be thinking ‘Why doesn’t Percy just apologize to his father and get it over with?’. The answer to that question is simple. Percy Weasley is a prick.

So, with all his paperwork checked, double checked, triple checked, and filed, Percy Weasley found himself with nothing to do and too spineless to accept his father’s company.

In an effort to seem important, which he wasn’t, he decided to go up to the mail room and see if there was anything there for the Minister.

He climbed the stairs and checked the Minister’s personal box. And it just so happened that he was about to go back down the stairs when an all to familiar owl swooped through the window and dropped a letter in Governor Radbaum’s personal box. The personal owl of Albus Dumbledore.

Of course, being the insufferable, self-righteous, know-it-all little prat that he is, he considered himself privy to whatever knowledge Professor Dumbledore had decided to impart upon the newest Governor. No doubt some ridiculous dribble about You-Know-Who being back.

Nikolle,

The Prophecy is nigh. Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are the benefactors. Surprising, no?

Sincerely,

Albus


Prophecy? Now what Prophecy could Dumbledore be talking about? Well, he could bring this information to the Minister as is, or he could do a bit of back research to impress him. The only question was how to gather information on an occurrence he was sure no one else in the ministry even knew was going on… Especially when it seemed to be centered around Hogwarts.

He glanced at the paper again. Granger? But surely it couldn’t be Hermione! He’d always thought she had potential and that once she got out of school and away from the deranged Potter boy she would see sense.

And the Malfoy boy? So he was at Hogwarts! The Malfoy Manor had been found in ruins and his mother’s death had been filed by an unknown person as a murder. Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken up the investigation which had only served to make the Minister even more suspicious. Lucius was still on the run, and it was reported that his brother’s son, Darius, and his wife, Nethika, and their young children, Darien and Blaze, had been found murdered in their home in Austria near the beginning of the summer. It had been unknown until that moment if Draco Malfoy was even still among the living,

But he was at Hogwarts! Which meant that Dumbledore was hiding a person of interest from the ministry!

Further more, what exactly were they the benefactors of?

He couldn’t just take this letter as proof, tampering with owl post was a federal offense. He’d be tried before the Wizengamot and spend at least a year in Azkaban!

So how was he to get the information he desired?

He of all people wouldn’t be trusted by the crack-pots residing at Hogwarts (you can be sure that at this point in time Percy Weasley was puffing his chest out with all the undeserved self-importance that he felt he was allotted as personal assistant to the Minister), he needed an informant on the inside. Someone who would do as he asked and not put to much thought into it. Someone known to act rashly and jump to conclusions. Someone he could manipulate easily with half-truths and ‘slipped’ tidbits of information.

Someone, like Ron. His half-wit, impulsive, reckless younger brother.

He knew from the annoyingly insistent letters his mother wrote him (which he never bothered to reply too, he was far to busy) that Ron had a rather persistent crush on Miss Granger. Even if he did go about showing his affection in a rather immature and misguided way.

Percy had a feeling that his dear younger brother wouldn’t be happy to hear that there was some connection between Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy…






Ron snored loudly in his sleep.

A tapping at his window caused him to snort and flop over in bed, flinging his arm above his head in that careless way people move in the void of sleep.

His knuckles connected forcefully with the headboard and he howled in pain, sitting bolt upright and swearing.

“Shut up, Ron. Go back to sleep.” Seamus mumbled, shoving his head under his pillow.

“Shove off!” Ron shot back, massaging his injured hand.

“Ron, you bloody idiot, just shut up and go back to sleep!” Dean snapped, rolling over and yanking the hangings on his bed shut.

“Leave him be…” Harry muttered, half heartedly throwing a pillow at Dean’s now closed hangings.

“Yeah, s’not so bad, jus ignore’m…” Neville agreed, covering his yawn.

And so the other boys drifted back asleep. But Ron Weasley was both in pain from his hand and smarting from his friends half-meant sleepy comments.

He sat in his bed, rubbing his knuckles furiously and huffing with indignation, when he heard the tapping.

He remembered then that it was what had disturbed him in the first place.

Furious, he struggled out from under his duvet and wrenched the window open.

Hermes fluttered in the room.

Ron stared at the owl in amazement. He hadn’t seen that particular owl since his 4th year. It was his brother Percy’s owl.

Shocked, he fumbled at the letter tied to the owl’s leg.

He broke the official looking ministry seal and pulled out the heavy parchment inside,

Ronald,

I have some information that you may be interested in. Your friend Hermione Granger has been named the benefactor of an estate of some sort. That in itself isn’t so unusual, except for the fact that she’s been named benefactor with Draco Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy is currently wanted by the Ministry of Magic for questioning about the destruction of his home this summer and the suspected murder of his mother, Narcissa Malfoy.

It has been concluded that if Miss Granger is being named the benefactor of an estate with him, she must know where he’s residing at the moment. The Ministry is considering taking action against Miss Granger. I thought that as a close friend of hers you could get to her first and talk some sense into the young woman.

If you would, please speak with Hermione then write me back with any information you may have gathered. It may help us put the Malfoy Heir behind bars before he can aid his father in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s evil deeds.

Sincerely

Your Brother, Percy 


Ron stared at the letter in complete confusion.

Hermione was taking of an estate with Malfoy? Didn’t that sort of thing only happen to, like, married people?

Ron’s heart stopped in his chest. HERMIONE MARRIED MALFOY!!

Now, this may seem like a horrible conclusion to jump to, but it was the only thing that made since to his sleep boggled mind.

Ron jumped from the bed, and threw on his house coat. He tossed the letter in his bedside drawer as he shoved his feet into his slippers.

It didn’t occur to him that it was close to 3:00am, or that Hermione and Draco were supposedly away on a trip representing the school at some sort of convention and had been gone for the past three days.

In fact, in his mind that just made it seem even more likely that they got married and were holed up in their room on some sort of sick honeymoon.

As a Prefect, he had access to the Head Dormitory for emergencies.

He ran through the corridors like a bat out of hell, not caring a bit if he attracted the attention of Mrs. Norris, Filch, Peeves, or any other frightening official in the castle.

He careened to a stop in front of the portrait of Hildegard the Hog-Faced and sputtered the password.

A look of dismay flashed across her face and she tried to protest but it did no good, he had the password and she had to let him in.

He burst into the Common Room and was paused momentarily by the grandeur around him.

His pause was shattered by something that made his blood run cold.

The sound of a baby crying.

In a daze he walked climbed the stairs and followed the sound to a door marked with a gold plaque that winked in the light and bore Hermione’s name.

He gripped the doorknob in his shaking hand and turned.

The door swung open and he stared at the sight before him. Hermione, her hair and closed rumbled by sleep, with a baby in her arms and a bottle to it’s tiny lips.

Hermione didn’t look up, but she spoke.

“It’s okay, Draco. I’ve told you one million times you don’t have to run in here every time she whimpers in the night. I’m not going to let our daughter starve.”

“Her… Hermione?” Ron’s voice came out in a strangled gasp. Hermione’s head shot up and her eyes grew wide.

“R-Ronald!” Her voice was louder then she intended and in her anxiety she pulled the bottle away from Cammie’s lips. The child resumed her wailing, but with more gusto now that her dinner had been taken away from her.

Hermione hastily placed the bottle back between her lips, never taking her eyes from Ron’s furious blue ones.

“I WAS RIGHT!” He roared, “YOU DID MARRY MALFOY!”

Hermione’s jaw hit the floor.

“What in the world gave you that idea, and stop shouting, you’re startling Cambria.” Her sharp tone stopped him in his tracks and reminded him that it was still Hermione, the girl he had known since he was eleven. The girl he was in love with.

The girl who had somehow been pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s baby and had given birth without him ever knowing!

“How…” He moved to take a step into the room when a strong hand gripped his shoulder. He turned to see Draco Malfoy holding him in check. Ron’s lips curled back in a derisive sneer, but Draco just stepped past him. He walked into the room and took the baby from Hermione’s arms, lounging back in the bed and continuing the feeding as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

Hermione stood up and motioned for Ron to follow her out of the room.

Ron stood rooted in place and stared at his childhood enemy feeding an infant on his best friends bed.

“Ron…” Hermione said softly.

He turned mechanically, and followed her down the stairs into the Common Room.

She sat on a couch and patted the cushion next to her. Instead, he sat on the couch across from her.

“Ron,” She asked, her face impassive. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I got a letter that you and Malfoy…”

“You got a letter about Cambria?” Hermione cut across him sharply, her eyes narrowing in anger.

“No, I got a letter that you and Malfoy had… inherited an estate together.” Saying it now made him realize that it didn’t sound as serious as he first believed.

Hermione sighed and ran a hand through the heavy mass of her hair.

“As in a piece of property?” She said, her honeyed gaze pierced his own blue.

“That’s what I assumed it to mean.” Ron mumbled.

“And did this letter also tell you that Draco and myself were… married?” She looked at him curiously.

“No. But I thought only married people could inherit property together…”

“We’re not married, Ron.” Hermione said, hoping to calm his frayed nerves some.

“But you have a baby! I heard you say it, it’s your baby and it’s his baby!” Ron’s eyes were taking on his wild, panicked glaze again

“Ron, it’s not what you think.” Hermione said calmly.

“Not what I think?” Ron laughed hysterically, “Hermione, you had a baby! It’s exactly what I think. How could you shag Malfoy? When did you shag Malfoy?!” He did the math quickly in his head. “March… last March! But… how did you hide it? You’ve been pregnant this whole time? I mean, you had to have been 7 months pregnant when term started. Did you use a Glamour Charm? Did you-”

“Ron, shut up.” Hermione’s gaze had turned deadly. “Don’t make assumptions. I never shagged Draco. You of all people should know that I plan to save myself for the man I intend to marry.” She tossed her head and fixed him with a hateful stare.

“Oh, so now you’re going to give me some immaculate conception crap? Are you suddenly the Virgin Mary reborn? Is that Jesus up there with a bottle in his mouth?” Ron’s breath was coming ragged, the hysteria making it hard for him to breath.

“Ron, will you just listen! I -”

“He walked in your room half naked and you didn’t even blink!” Ron squeaked.

“Oh please, Ronald! He was wearing sweatpants. I’ve seen you, Harry, all your brothers, and half the boys in Gryffindor House in less at your ridiculous swim parties in the Lake!” She laughed derisively. “Now will you shut up and LISTEN!”

He stared at her, then made some sort of unintelligible sound with a vague hand gesture,

“The Iuncito Venenum Potion Professor Snape assigned us, you remember?” Hermione asked. He nodded slowly. “Something went wrong… it bound our blood instead of our souls. It was a freak occurrence, but it created that baby. Her name is Cambria. She fulfills a prophecy that’s important to the fate of the Wizarding World. I was not pregnant, I didn’t give birth, and I most definitely did not have any sort of physical relationship with Draco.”

Ron stared at her, then shook his head slowly. “You’re crazy… You’re crazy if you think I’m going to believe that!”

“Ron, I’m serious!” She recited the Prophecy for him, and explained to him that Dumbledore was involved. That, above all else seemed to convince him.

“Dumbledore knows?” He asked, wide-eyed.

“Of course he does, I couldn’t have gotten through the last three days without all the help he’s given us.” Hermione smiled slightly.

“So… if this baby is so important why don’t you hand her over to the Order?” Ron asked.

“She’s a child!” Hermione shook her head, “How would you feel if your mother abandoned you because she was fearful of your destiny?”

Ron nodded slowly, “But… Malfoy’s a Deatheater…”

“Actually, no. He works for the Order, his father murdered his mother.” She took a deep breath to repress a shudder . “He’s been working with the Order ever since.”

“The letter mention that his mother was murdered…” Ron whispered.

“What?” Hermione’s voice was suddenly sharp again, “What did it say?”

“Oh! It said that Malfoy was wanted for questioning by the Ministry for the murder of his mother and that I should come talk to you because you were named as a benefactor of some estate with him and they think you know where he is.” Ron screwed his face up, trying to remember.

“He’s wanted by the ministry? Who sent you this letter?” Hermione asked.

“Percy.”

“Your brother?” Hermione asked, amazed. Ron nodded. “Ron, you can’t tell him anything. Voldemort can’t find out about the Prophecy!” She gripped his hand in fear.

“Okay, okay!” Ron said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Hermione… I should go… We have classes in the morning.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday…” Hermione said, looking at him curiously.

“Err- well, Lavender and I have to study for that History of Magic test…”

“You’re seeing Lavender then?” Hermione asked, sniffing in disapproval.

“No! No- uh, well that is to say, we’re not dating …” He stammered.

“Oh just go, Ronald!” Hermione smiled at him, “I need to go relieve Draco anyways.”

“Yeah… See ya, `Mione.” He turned to leave.

“Oh, and Ron, please don’t tell anyone. Not Harry, not Ginny, no one. Please.”

“Yeah, yeah. I won’t” He shrugged it off and left the Head Dormitory, sneaking through the castle did nothing to stop his brain from racing uncontrollably.

He made it back to his dorm and crawled into bed.

Three hours later, sleep still evaded him.

He left his bed and went to the Common Room.

Where he penned the letter that would change the lives of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy forever.

Chapter 9: To Change The World
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Percy,

I looked into what you asked. It’s true! Malfoy is here. He’s been here all along. But, it’s not what you think. His father killed his mum and his aunt and uncle’s family. He’s not on the run from the ministry, he’s on the run from You-Know-Who! So that’s fine.

But here’s the strange part. Along with inheriting that estate, something… odd has happened.

Do you know anything about a prophecy, not the Harry prophecy, a new one. About some baby with incredible powers? Well, incase you don’t know. I guess some girl in my year here at Hogwarts made a prophecy about the war. Apparently, this baby was suppose to be born that had amazing powers! But she wasn’t really born, she was created. By a potion that Hermione and Malfoy were making that, well I guess it backfired. Anyways, so now they have this baby and Professor Dumbledore says she’s got so much magic in her that she like the same power as the original witches and wizards. And I guess from what Hermione told me, she’s suppose to be able to take out You-Know-Who when she’s just a toddler.

Actually, to tell you the truth… I think she’s lying. I think she’s trying to cover up that she’s with Malfoy and he knocked her up. I don’t know how she did it. Must have been a Glamour Charm or something. I don’t think there’s a Glamour out there that strong, but Hermione’s a really good witch so you never know.

So, Percy, I did what you asked. Now can you do something for me? Go down to the records department and see if someone maybe slipped a marriage certificate in for Hermione and Malfoy?

Thanks,

Ron




Percy looked up from the letter which had arrived on his desk first thing Saturday morning.

A child born from pure magic? And that fool Dumbledore was using it in one of his crackpot dooms day plots!

Didn’t he realize the advances that could be made studying this creature?

He stood and entered Fudge’s office.

“Minister, I have something of grave importance to discuss with you.”

Fudge barely glanced up from his desk,

“Mr. Weasley, I’ve told you one hundred times before, just put the finished paperwork in the slot…” He waved his hand at the mail slot in the wall behind Percy’s desk.

Percy’s ears turned red and her cleared his throat angrily.

“Excuse me, Sir. It’s not about paperwork.”

“Do you have to use the restroom then?” Fudge glanced up at him agitatedly, “I’ve told you if you have to go, just go. You don’t have to ask.”

“Sir!” Percy squeaked, embarrassed. “I have information on Dumbledore!”

“Dumbledore?” Fudged yelped, standing and rounding his desk quickly. “Is he here?”

“What?! No!” Percy shook his head. “He’s hiding important information from the Ministry.” He smirked triumphantly.

Fudged drug a hand across his face and returned to his seat. “Percy, please. I have important things to do.”

“He’s hiding Draco Malfoy within the walls of Hogwarts, Sir!” Percy whined.

“That’s your important information?” Fudged cocked a brow at him. “Well if that’s the case then I guess we’ll just wait until the end of term and pick the boy up at King’s Cross.” He went back to his paper work.

Percy stood there until he looked back up.

“Was there something else you wanted, Mr. Weasley?” Fudge sighed.

“Well, Minister, I’ve heard some interesting… rumors coming out of Hogwarts recently.”

“What sort of rumors?” Fudged massaged his temples in annoyance.

“Well… maybe you should read this.” Percy said, setting Ron’s letter on the desk.

Fudged picked it up and looked at it, then squinted his eyes, then turned the paper at a funny angle.

“This is a poorly written letter from your brother.” Fudged said.

“Finish reading it first.”

Fudged sighed again and picked up the letter again.

His eyes grew wide.

“How do we know this is credible?” He asked.

“You know that my brother is a close personal friend of Harry Potter. Which means he’s privy to secrets other Hogwarts students aren’t.” Percy looked smug.

“Do you realize what we could do with this child?” Fudge asked, standing up again.

“Important research could be done.” Percy said. Really, he had no idea, but he thought it was important and he had been right.

“We could bring the Wizarding World out of this hiding we’ve been forced into. Back to the days when we were respected people, revered people, feared people!” A crazy glint had taken up residence in Fudge’s eyes. “If we created enough of these children, we could restart the Wizarding Race!”

Percy’s eyes widened, he’s never thought of it that way!

“We wouldn’t have to hide from the muggles anymore,” He said. “We could use magic freely in the streets…”

“Percy, we need to take this child into our custody. I’m putting you in charge of this operation. I want it here by the end of the week!”




Monday morning arose and Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, fully dressed for classes except for her robes. Cambria lay bundled in a blanket in her arms. Hermione tried to stifle her tears. This would be the first time she’d be leaving her daughter.
Draco knocked on the doorframe.

“Hermione, Winky’s here.” He said, entering the room.

“Draco!” Hermione sniffled, “She’s barely a week old… how can we leave her?”

“Because we have to.” He said simply, taking his daughter from her mother’s arms and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before tucking her into her bassinet.

“Come on then. Breakfast.” He said, tugging her to her feet and handing her her robes.

Hermione tugged on the robes and leaned over to kiss Cammie’s cheek. Running her fingers through the baby’s flaxen curls and murmuring her goodbyes.

“Winky.” Draco called out as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“Yes, Mister?”

“The baby has been fed. She’ll need another bottle every two to three hours. She should sleep, but when she’s awake keep her engaged. Play with her, talk to her, but be gentle.”

“Yes, Mister.

“And if there’s any problems that you don’t think you can handle, come get one of us. You remember the phrase?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, Missus.”

“What do you say.”

“Missus, there’s a problem in your dormitory!” Winky squeaked.

“Very good.” Draco nodded.

“Well, I guess we’re off then.” Hermione said, her lip trembling.

“Come on, Granger.” Draco sighed, ushering her down the stairs and out the portrait hole.

“Now, remember Hermione. Nothing’s changed, at least to the rest of the school. Can you handle that?” Draco asked, adjusting his bag.

Hermione nodded, her eyes were still puffy from crying all night but she knew that once lessons were over she could be right back upstairs with her daughter in her arms.

They entered the Great Hall and went their separate ways.

Harry and Ginny smiled at her and gestured for her to join them. Her eyes slide past them and landed on Ron. His eyes were fixed on his toast and he didn’t seem to be hearing a word Lavender was chattering into his ear.

Hermione slide into an empty seat across from Harry and Ginny.

“How was the convention Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Excuse me?” She asked, confused.

“The convention you and Malfoy were representing Hogwarts at? Although, I’ve no idea why they picked Malfoy.” Harry snickered.

“Oh, it was lovely. I got to see some of Victor’s classmates who I hadn’t seen since 4th year.” Ron coughed loudly and she shot him a pleading look. Hermione hated lying to her friends but it was the only way.

“Really? Which ones?” Ron asked, his voice had an almost deadly quality to it.

“Alexander Van Orman. He was an attendee to Karkaroff when Victor was in the tournament, he wasn’t old enough to compete. Now he’s in a position of authority at Durmstrang Institute of Magic.” Hermione lied readily, she ate her eggs without really tasting them.

“Did you do anything else?” Ginny asked, curious.

“Yeah, like, I don’t know, shag a ferret?” Ron said visciously.

“Ronald!” Hermione cried, her face brightening to a bright shade of red.

“I was just kidding!” Ron snapped, before throwing his fork down with a clatter and dragging Lavender out of the room with him.

“I wonder what’s up with him?” Harry asked, staring after his best friend.

“Oh, he’s just jealous.” Ginny sighed, agitated.

“Jealous of what?” Harry asked, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Well, you heard what he said. He’s got it in his head that `Mione’s going to shack up with Malfoy.” Ginny laughed and shook back her curtain or red hair. Harry laughed as well, so much that he had tears in his eyes.

Hermione didn’t know why she felt so embarrassed, it wasn’t like she actually was involved with Draco. She just had a baby with him. Her eyes widened and she laughed, but it wasn’t the mirthful laughter of her friends. It was a laugh that was edging into hysteria.

She picked up a goblet of orange juice and gulped it down choking. She sputtered and coughed, and when she finally looked up wheezing, half the table was staring at her.

“I-I need to head to Charms early and hand in my back work to Professor Flitwick.” She gasped, tossing her bag over her shoulder and stifling a cry of pain when the strap jerked her shoulder back sharply.

She hurried from the hall, turning at the last second to glance back. Her eyes met the icy gaze of the father of her child. She saw mild curiosity, but then a sneer molded his features.

You’re weak… 

His eyes seemed to scream it at her. No, not scream. He wasn’t one to scream. She could hear the words then, in her head. That sharp, derisive manner. The low tone of discipline. Like he was scolding a badly behaved toddler.

You’re weak.

She turned and continued her flight.

Draco watched her go, before returning to his toast.

“How was the convention, Draco?” Daphne Greengrass asked, giving him a sideway’s glance. She was still unhappy with him for the incident with Pansy. It hadn’t been the first time, but still…

“Enjoyable.” He said curtly, his gaze leveled on her for just a moment before sliding past her to rest on Pansy herself.

“Parkinson.” He said offhandedly, “I need to speak with you if you’ve finished your breakfast.”

“Of course!” Pansy smiled, trying to hide the quaver in her voice. She stood quickly to follow Draco from the Great Hall.

“We’ll just go on to Transfiguration then.” He said, standing as well and picking up his bag.

Daphne frowned, this was unusual.

Draco and Pansy moved through the corridor’s, dodging younger students. Pansy’s heart beat like mad against her ribs, she was just working up the nerve to reach out and touch his hand when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her into a side corridor.

His lips crashed onto hers and his body pressed her up against the wall.

She gasped and threw herself into the kiss.

After a few heated moments, he stumbled back leaving her breathless up against the wall.

“Damn it!” He swore, running a hand through his platinum locks.

“Draco?” Pansy said softly, reaching out for him “Draco… what’s wrong?”

He looked at her then, his face was angry. She braced herself for it, the strike she knew would come.

And he would have, his frustration and panic needed a release,  when something gave him pause.

The very same corridor he was standing in, except instead of the trembling brunette before him, it was another. A girl with his eyes and long platinum locks staring cowering from a faceless man… Cammie.

Pansy stood, eyes clenched shut, waiting for the blow. She could already taste the blood she knew would fill her mouth where her teeth would break into her cheek. 

What she felt instead was him placing his hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Pan…” He whispered, and then he was gone.

She stood alone in that corridor, her heart pounding and tears pouring down her face. 

Tears of joy. 

He hadn't hit her. He stopped himself from hitting her!

He was changing, she just wished she knew why.




The day had been agonizing for Hermione. She did well in Charms, but in History of Magic she spaced for the first time in her Hogwarts career.

Luckily, those were her only two classes of the morning. And even though she knew she should use her break to go to the library with Harry and Ron to work on her Charms essay, seeing Draco in History of Magic had made her long to hold her daughter in her arms.

As soon as class ended, she shot from the room ignoring the startled look from Harry, the angry sort of gurgle noise from Ron, and Draco’s pointed stare.

She breathed easy when she entered her Common Room.

“Winky!” She called out.

“Missus?” Winky squeaked, peaking between the slats of the balcony.

“How’s Cammie?” Hermione asked, dropping her bag in an armchair and climbing the stairs.

“Good, Missus. Winky was about to feed Little Miss.”

“Not to worry Winky, I’ll give her the bottle.” Hermione smiled at her entering the room. She smiled and scooped Cambria out of her bassinet. “Hey baby, how’s mummy’s girl?” She cooed, taking the bottle from Winky.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Hermione asked Winky.

“Winky, Missus?” Her tennis ball eye grew wide, “Oh no, no, no! Winky does for you!”

Hermione frowned, she still wasn’t use to having a house elf around. Draco had already gotten on to her for making Winky cry by offering to pay her for her time.

“Okay, Winky. It’s alright. Go and fetch me some lunch, please?” Hermione asked. She learned the best way to deal with hurting the elf’s feelings was to give her an order. Winky smiled brightly, her ears flopping in delight as she bowed low and hurried from the room.

Cambria finished her bottle and Hermione took her time playing with her daughter.

When Winky brought her up a turkey sandwich and a bowl of soup, Hermione was content to watch her child sleep.

And when it came time to head back for her last class of the day Double Transfiguration, she felt much better then she had that morning. She felt secure in knowing that her daughter would still be there at the end of the day.

“Goodbye, Winky.” She said as she was gathering her things. “I’ll have to go to the Library between my last class and dinner to do some research for my new essay. Draco may come back between class and then, but I won’t be back until after dinner.”

“Yes, Missus.” Winky nodded vigorously, this was what she was use to. Looking after children, and she was glad to be out of the kitchens after so long.

Hermione stepped out of the portrait hole and hurried to class.

Transfiguration was awkward. Harry was sure there was something wrong with her and when she wouldn’t do anything more then assure him she was fine, he turned to his regular standby. Collaborating with Ron to try to cook up a feasible reason for her peculiar behavior.

Except that didn’t go over so well either.

“Let it alone, Harry.” Ron snapped, pointedly staring at the board.

“Ron! Something’s up with her. I can just tell!” Harry whispered.

“Maybe she’s just hormonal. I hear women’s bodies do that after going through something traumatic like birth.” Ron sneered, refusing to look at Hermione.

“Well, Hermione hasn’t given birth. Stop being a bloody idiot.” Harry replied, giving him a funny look when he snorted.

Fortunately, Ron was saved from Hermione’s wrath by Professor McGonagall calling on her.

For the rest of lesson, Ron became mysteriously deaf. Harry sat looking between the two, he was beginning to get the horrible feeling that something was going on that he wasn’t allowed to know about.

And normally when he wasn’t allowed to know what was going on… it involved Professor Dumbledore.

He decided that he’d have to pay a visit to the Headmaster after dinner.

When the lesson finally ended at 4:00, Harry expected Hermione to shoot out like she had before lunch. Instead she turned to him.

“I’m going to the Library, Harry. Do you want to come?” She smiled sweetly at him.

She had to keep Harry away from Ron. She could tell he was within moments of cracking and letting her secret out all over the school.

“Sure. Ron?” Harry said, turning to Ron.

Ron mumbled something about Lavender and the Common Room before making his escape.

“Well, I guess that was a no.” Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, he’s fine!” Hermione said, her voice overly cheerful.

Once she was in the library, she felt much more relaxed. Amongst the books and the smells of parchment and leather she could almost feel her worries melt away.

Harry had already made a considerable dent on his own essay, but she caught up to him in a matter of hours. By 6:45 she was almost completely finished. Harry shook his head.

“Really, `Mione. I don’t know how you do it.” He said good naturedly.

“Talent, Harry. Pure talent.” Hermione laughed.

They made their way to the Great hall and took their seats. Hermione was in high spirits. The bulk of her workload was behind her, she was going to eat a nice meal and then go upstairs to spend time with her beautiful baby girl.

The hall filled with everyone looking forward to a good meal. Hermione and Ginny talked and laughed. And for a moment, Hermione felt like the weight of the Wizarding world wasn’t resting upon the tiny shoulders of her infant daughter. That maybe, just maybe… it had all been a mistake.

Just for a moment, mind you.

The doors of the Great Hall burst open. Ministry Wizards poured in, wands drawn.
As if in slow motion, Hermione’s turned her head and her eyes met Draco’s.

He looked startled, but put a finger to his lips. Frightened, she nodded.

“Albus Dumbledore…” An all too familiar voice drawled. The Ministry Wizards parted and Percy Weasley walked towards the Professor’s Dias. “Sorry for the interruption. But the Minister figured this would be easier done during dinner when all of the students should be in the hall.”

“What exactly are you and your men doing, Mr. Weasley?” Professor Dumbledore called out.

Hermione turned to look at Ron. His face was stark white and he didn’t seem to be breathing correctly.

“You didn’t!” She hissed. Ron turned to her, panicked.

“I’m sorry Hermione, I’m sorry! I didn’t think they would come to take him!” Ron cried.

“Take who?” Hermione asked.

“Malfoy!” Ron whimpered.

Hermione was horrified. She was now sure of it. They were either here for her baby or her baby’s father.

Percy was speaking again, “…fugitive in the castle. One of the escapees from Azkaban. We need you to keep everyone here while we search Hogwarts and the grounds.”

Dumbledore looked concerned and nodded. “As you wish, Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione knew then that they were after her baby, and that she had made the biggest mistake of her life by not telling Professor Dumbledore that Ron knew about Cammie.

She looked at Draco again, her heart was beating a painful tattoo against her ribs. Again he shook his head and held a finger to his lips.

“They won’t find her. Winky.” He mouthed.

She could only hope.

There began the most horrendous moments of Hermione Granger’s life.

For two hours she sat in the Great Hall. She couldn’t cry for numerous reasons. She couldn’t go to Draco for fear of drawing attention to him. She couldn’t glen comfort from her friends, for they didn’t know anything was wrong. She couldn’t go to Dumbledore because agents were still in the hall.

Two hours of grueling, mind numbing, horror. Of endless heartbreak. Of hatred for those who stood between her and her baby.

When the doors opened to the hall again, Percy came just inside the door and called out “Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy. Come here.”

Hermione stood and walked to Percy, Draco approached more cautiously.

“For some reason we can’t seem to get into your room with the password the Deputy Headmistress provided. Do you know why that is?” His gaze was cool, but with a malicious gleam he barely hide. 

“I’ve no idea. Last I was in the dormitory, which last during lunch mind you, the accepted password was ‘Hopkirk’” Hermione was surprised by how calm her own voice sounded.

“Perhaps the castle has enacted the old magics that were built in to protect against intruders?” Draco supplied, one pale brow raised.

“And what magic would that be?” Percy asked.

“Why, Weasley, weren’t you a Head Boy and a straight NEWT student?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Percy glared.

“And didn’t you ever read Hogwarts, A History?” Draco prodded.

“Yes, numerous times.” Percy lied through his teeth, he had only read it once and not even cover to cover.

“Then you should know that when the castle feels threatened, it has the power to defend itself.” Hermione supplied.

“And?” Percy was getting frustrated now.

“The portrait probably changed the password again.” Draco said.

“Or won’t open for anyone but us.” Hermione added.

Percy stared at them for a moment before turning and gesturing for them to follow him.

Half way up, Draco appeared to trip on one of the steps. He leaned down to tie his laces and seemed to be muttering obscenities to his shoe. Hermione was confused until she saw the figure in the portrait nod and flit quickly away in the direction of their dormitory.

They turned down the side corridor and came to a stop in front of Hildegard the Hog-Faced.

Discreetly, Draco showed Hildegard three fingers.

“Let’s try our last three passwords then, shall we?” Draco announced. Percy nodded.

“Hopkirk?” Draco said.

“Billywig?” Hermione tried.

“Pixie Wicket.” Draco said, his tone firm.

Lady Hildegard smiled a pained smile and swung slowly forward.

The group stepped through the portrait hole and Hermione only resisted the urge to bolt up the stair because Draco had a hold of her elbow.

Percy sent his men on a systematic search of the Dormitory, dragging Hermione and Draco along with the group.

When they opened the door to Hermione’s Room, the last place they searched, she could feel her heart stop.

Percy turned to them, and shoved the door the rest of the way open to show Hermione’s room… devoid of any baby things.

“Where is it?” Percy asked.

“Where’s what?” Draco shot back.

“The child. Where is it.” Percy repeated.

“What child?” Hermione asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play games with me! Where is she?!” Percy snarled, grabbing Hermione’s arm and dragging her forcefully into the room.

“Get your hands off her!” Draco snarled, charging at him. Agents fell upon him and held him back.

“Where’s the child, Hermione?” Percy asked, his beet red faces inches from her own.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I swear… the Headmaster must have sent someone up here to get her!” Hermione lied. “We didn’t want to take care of that thing, truly we didn’t. I told them to hand her over to the Ministry, but Dumbledore kept talking about some sort of prophecy! It was crazy. He’s mad. Do you think I want a baby? I’m barely 18. My career hasn’t had a chance to even start! Dumbledore’s the one you should be harassing Percy Weasley, not someone you’ve known since she was 12.” She narrowed her eyes at him and stepped back quickly when he released her arm.

“And you Malfoy, what do you say?”

Draco laughed, it was such a cold thing that Hermione cringed.

“Do you think I want some Mudblood filth raising an abomination of magic that everyone keeps claiming is mine on my conscience?” He sneered, “Find the thing. Take it away. It’s no concern of mine.”

Hermione felt the words pierce her heart, she tried to tell herself that it was just a ploy, that he loved their daughter just as much as she did. But it still put doubt in her heart.

Percy looked between the two, Hermione filled with self-righteous rage, Draco showing nothing but cool indifference and a hint of anger.

“You two stay here. We’re locking the door.” He said, “We’ll be back with the Headmaster.”

The door was locked behind them. As soon as he was sure they were gone, Draco began to levitate the furniture in front of the door. Hermione helped as soon as she realized what was going on, adding her own touch by sealing the door from their side.

“Winky!” Draco whispered.

Unfortunately, the whispering was wasted. Winky appeared with the baby in a satchel, but her appearance was marked with a loud pop.

Immediately, the agent’s outside tried to open the door, only to fail miserably.

“Do you have everything?” Draco asked.

“Everything, Mister!” Winky squeaked, her eyes wide with panic.

“Take us to the grounds then.” Winky’s head was going like a bobble doll as she reached out and grabbed the hands of Hermione and Draco.

The feeling of apparating with an elf is an entirely unpleasant one, Hermione soon discovered.

They landed with a thump on the grounds near Hagrid’s cottage. Draco scooped Winky up in his arms while she clung to the baby, then grabbed Hermione’s hand and took off for the gates.

“Wait!” Hermione whispered. “They’ll be expecting us to try and get out!”

“What do you suggest we do then? Try to brave the forest?” Draco whispered back furiously.

“No, the Whomping Willow.” Hermione said, eyes alighting with the idea.

“What about it?” Draco snapped.

“Just follow me!” Hermione called, and lead the way to the demon tree. She picked up a stick and shot it at the knot in the trunk with her wand. The tree became still and the passage way opened up.

“Quickly, it only lasts a few seconds.”

Draco’s feet were barely through the entry way when it closed with a menacing thump.

They hurried through the passage way, but it was still a good 15 minutes before Hermione and Draco reached the rusty trap door and pushed it open.

They clambered through and for the first time Hermione had time to console her screaming daughter.

“It’s alright baby, it’s alright!” She cooed, taking her from Winky and rocking her slowly.

“Where do we go now?” She asked, turning to Draco.

“The Order Headquarters?” Draco suggested.

“I don’t know where they’ve relocated. Tonks?” She tried.

“No, we can’t jeopardize her job at the Ministry any more then I already have.” Draco slammed a fist against the wall in frustration. “What about your parents?” He asked.

“That’s one of the first places they’ll look. Which means we can’t go to the Weasley’s either.” Hermione almost screamed with frustration. She handed Cammie back to Winky and began to pace.

“Do you have any family outside of the country?” Draco asked her.

“None that’s magical. You know I’m Muggleborn.” Hermione glared at him. “What about you? Or did your father slaughter the only Malfoys who actually had a heart?”

“No… no he didn’t…” Draco mused, but his thought process was cut short when shouts began to come from outside.

They had found them.

When a board blasted from a window and flew straight for Winky and his daughter, Draco acted on instinct.

He dived for them, scooping them up then reached out and grabbed Hermione’s shoulder. The only conscious head in his thought as he apparated with his tiny group of people was.

I need family, I need somewhere safe…

The darkness seemed to go on forever, and for a moment he thought he’d doomed them all. But then, it seemed to get lighter, and he landed in a heap on the floor of an exquisite looking parlor room.

“What the- WHO ARE YOU?!” A female voice shouted. It sounded oddly familiar to Draco.

He sat up quickly and met the brown eyed, platinum haired face of a young woman dressed in a bathrobe and drinking coffee in the weak early morning light.

Draco?”

“Cassiopeia?” 

http://www.harrypotterfanfiction.com