simaril1202
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Summary
Years after the end of the war, Hermione is in search of a rare magical text that leads her to a old bookstore in Knockturn Alley where disgraced ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy has fallen from grace and works as a shopkeeper. With a tangled past threatening to rise up and choke her, Hermione struggles to walk the fine line between dealing with her own traumatic issues, and Draco Malfoy himself.
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During his brief stint as a prisoner of the Order, Draco Malfoy notices that Hermione doesn't look to be doing too well. He had always assumed that, given her brilliant mind and gentle nature, those on her side would ensure she is taken care of. Evidently not. Must he really do everything himself?
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OR: Dark Draco decides he'd rather like to keep the pretty Healer for himself, since it seems no one else can take proper care of her.
A story about love and power.
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The spell leaves her mouth before she can stop it. Finite Incantatem.
The air warps, and for a breathless, disbelieving heartbeat, she sees them. Raw and blood-slick, the skin around them grey, wasting, bone pushing through where no bone should.
She understands in the split-second before he turns around in horror, wand raised, wordlessly reanimating the Glamour charm: Malfoy has wings. And it’s a death sentence.
(Previously Bleed Like a Seraph)
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Hadriana Lilith Potter although she prefers Harry (Credit to Aunt Petunia for her dedication to hating her enough to shorten her name to not waste breath on her) is sixteen when she learns the truth of her Family and seventeen she walks away, from the war, from the order, from even her own godfather. She walks away and doesn’t look back, she walks into the abyss of the unknown and makes it her own.
And she's dragged back to the surface. Is it a cage if she is the one who build it?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the rights belong to J.K Rowling or Rita Skeeter.
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Lucius Malfoy has always considered himself a man of refinement, foresight, and impeccable taste. So naturally, when he discovered Hermione Granger’s formidable talents languishing in a back-office at the Ministry, he took it upon himself to correct the oversight. A committee seat here, a strategic donation there—nothing sinister, simply the guiding hand of wisdom.
Now Miss Granger is properly situated, Ronald Weasley is properly discarded, and Draco is on his way home—broader, charming, and, most importantly, blissfully uninterested in politics.
What follows is not a scheme, of course. Lucius Malfoy does not scheme. He merely ensures that legacies are preserved, careers are guided, and that the sharpest witch of her age happens to cross paths with his son at just the right moment.