Chapter Text
Battle of Hogwarts: 2 May 1998
DECISIONS. Monumental, life-changing decisions, particularly, were fickle things. What was was right went against his entire upbringing, the alternative being a choice he simply refused to live with. Draco Malfoy was both hyper-aware and abstracted in his consciousness. His wand now directed to witches and wizards he'd known his whole life, relatives of his best mates.
He slashed and stunned and blinded with gusto, as did Theo and Blaise. No hesitation or fear. Just as they'd been aiming for. The nights were spent with him and Theo drinking away the mind-fuck meetings with the Dark Lord, by extension their worthless fucking sires. The lifelong mates would jest of defecting, but the events led to sober discussions. Soon the other, non-Death-Eater half, joined the secret discussions. Blaise and Pansy were confined to the castle with the rest of the students.
He and Theo got deferential treatment, meaning they were allowed to attend certain fucking Death Eater gatherings then self-medicate with - not enough - Ogden's.
The actualization of defecting was hard won. Executing the thing was bloody near impossible. Blaise and Pansy had to see Pomfrey after approaching the she-weasel and Longbottom. Theo and him were ambushed at his own fucking property in France by Shacklebolt and the werewolf professor. At their own rendezvous.
Thrust into the battle with each side attacking and Slytherin House locked in the dungeons. The Order members informed of their change of allegiance were few and scattered in duels across the courtyard.
Blaise had fallen behind at some point. It was him and Theo.
A red jet from the side bounced off a shield charm. Theo was busy with a Death Eater and both were fending off an adolescent Acromantula.
“Can you stand?“ Her voice carried over the racket of combat and he saw her kneeling next to a young wizard who looked half-dead. Her muggle trousers were ripped and stained. Blood colored her face, clothes, and tattered trainers. Her hair was as barbaric as her person. A barbarian princess.
“Granger!“ He stupidly sought and Bellatrix's evil wand was on him. “Point that fucking wand somewhere else! The kid is done for.“ Draco could only pray to Merlin that she took note of his own wand's victims and used that fucking brain!
He yelped, embarrassingly, when a leg-locker jinx whizzed past him and Theo to a baby Acromantula.
“Honestly, who's shield charm did you think that was?“ Granger rolled her eyes. Rolled her eyes, as she incompasitated and defended, standing protectively over the wizard on the courtyard floor.
A dementor swooped on her as she downed a masked opponent and a silvery otter chased it into the sky. She was fucking brilliant and he was awkwardly erect.
“Draco!“ Behind him, Theo was pointing to a charging giant that would be on top of them in a few long strides.
“Granger, we need to move!“ He yelled. The witch spared a glance to the incoming threat and knelt to the injured boy. “Levitate the wanker!“
“I can't you idiot! I don't have the magic to sustain the spell and duel for my life.“ The agitated witch sneered.
Fuck's sake!
“We won't have to worry about that in a moment if we don't fucking move!“ Theo called over his shoulder, doing his own impressive wand work on the Dark Lord's army.
A foot the size of the Great Hall head table knocked them all flat as it landed and the shadow moved over them. Granger was desperately attempting to drag the invalid with her.
He snatched her into his arms and threw them both out of the foot's way. Granger landed on him as the force of the giant's weight blasted them with a rush of unholy stench, her curls suffocating him stayed his gag.
Die a happy wizard, after all.
“Ah!“ She despaired struggling toward the disgusting appendage. The body lifted with the foot, as it was stuck to the bottom, a lower leg dangling disturbingly. Draco covered her eyes with his palm and turned his own head away. The Golden Girl was skin and bones, her sharp joints poking his own skeletal physique.
Survival was a fucking parasite that took everything, but your life.
Draco nodded to Theo and they put the nearly catatonic Gryffindor Princess between them. He herded her quickly, defending their small convoy to a somewhat safe area. A crumbling waist-high wall arch was apparently Theo's brilliant fucking idea of safe.
“She's in fucking shock, have to snap her out of it.“ Draco answered his mate's worried frown at Granger's eerily quiet self.
The Slytherins performed well-checks on each other and the ashen-faced witch. No wounds in need of immediate attention. They needed to conserve their energy and magic for the battle, healing could come later.
The witch muttered, eyes excitedly watching the Forbidden Forest in front of them.
“What? Are you burned?“ Theo began looking her over again and she brushed him off.
“Grawp!“ She exclaimed. Her head must have taken a nasty blow at some point, but Draco hadn't seen bleeding from her skull. The blood in her hair seemed to originate from her mangled shoulder and a cut along her cheek.
“Is she speaking in fucking tongues??“ Draco demanded and Theo looked as bewildered as he felt. Perhaps a strong confundus?
As he thought more on what could be addling the Brightest Witch of Her Age's thoughts the fucking witch took off for the trees. The Slytherins gave chase, monitoring their flanks for any Death Eaters and Granger started shouting that word into the forest.
“What the fuck is-” Theo was interrupted by an all too familiar thudding and earth trembling foot step. A giant with an almost normal face, not quite as tall as Voldemort's giant's, ate up the forest to them.
“Herminny?!“
“Salazar fuck, it bloody knows her.“ Draco breathed. “Granger, fucking stop!“ He caught up with her and bear-hugged the flailing Gryffindor against him. “You're confused. We'll help you. Me and Theo.“
“I'm not confused you bloody prat!“ She argued lifting her chin defiantly. “Let me go, idiot, or he'll trample us!“
The second time she has called me an idiot.
“I know you're wicked brilliant, but this is madness.“ Draco snapped, searching her eyes for any indication of being under another's influence.
Pain brought tears to his eyes and it was a moment before he registered that she'd headbutted his face. Theo was laughing riotously.
Stubborn. Fucking Ungrateful.
Granger smirked smugly and Draco crushed her mouth with his.
Gorgeous. Infuriatingly sexy witch!
She let out a high-pitched noise of surprise when he thrust his tongue into hers. Using the kiss as a venting of his fear, anger, uncertainty. His long buried want for this witch. Granger returned the violent snog with her own pent up frustrations. For a few blissful seconds Draco let himself fall into the pool of desire that was fucking Granger. She reared back when Draco forgot himself, sinking his teeth into the pillow of her full bottom lip.
They stared for a moment. Her pouty mouth was swollen and red, her chest heaving in rhythm with his own. The brown of her eyes lightened with her skeptical probing, waiting for the jape to land, he supposed.
“If I'd known a snog would shut you up I would've done it long ago.“ Draco mumbled warmly, tracing the line of her jaw with his pointer finger.
“HERMY!“ Merlin, Granger's lips had put the giant far from his consciousness.
“Grawp!“ She broke free of his hold and waved both arms in the air for the giant's attention. “I need your help!“
“Hagerd?“ It stupidly swung it's head back and forth, looking for the oaf.
“Yes, Hagrid as well! I can show you!“ She framed her mouth to carry her scratchy voice. “Watch his feet. He won't harm me. Good luuuuck!“ A hand enclosed her body from the chest down and Draco flattened himself to the lawn, avoiding the giant fist bringing her up to the face.
She's trying to bloody off herself!
“Fucking hell!“ Theo echoed his sentiments, sprinting alongside him to keep up with the witch now directing the great tosser as though captaining a war ship.
She was a queen at war, shouting commands and administering a clever spell to highlight their enemies for the giant's foot falls.
Draco Malfoy felt fireworks in his ribcage that made it hard to draw breath.
Hermione Granger had commandeered his core as easily as she had the giant and Draco could sustain himself off the dreams her lips would surely incite.
Mine.
17 July 1998
THEO was not used to manual labor, but he was keeping his mind and body busy. Normally he'd be part of the sofa in his study, halfway through a bottle of firewhiskey.
The liquor didn't help, not really. It was a way to keep full thoughts from forming. To get out of his own head.
“Watch it, snake.“ A shoulder jostled him into one of the makeshift tables in the dining tent.
Part of the probation required Theo, and his mates, to aid the volunteers in setting Hogwarts and it's grounds to rights. Without magic, as their wands were confiscated until further evaluation.
“You four, in here.“ McGonagall had greeted them on their arrival. The Slytherin's trudged into, what he'd later learn, was the administrative tent.
The interior was spacious with couches and a large work table surrounded by chairs. The new Headmistress positioned herself behind the desk and pointed to chairs across from her. Theo nudged Draco forward when he'd merely appraised the seats with disdain.
It wasn't the diatribe of ultimatums and admonishments Theo had been expecting. McGonagall sat and studied them empathetically, her severe auburn updo had more gray at the temples than he remembered.
“I'm aware of how difficult it is to walk into this camp as the assumed villains. Emotions are very close to the surface, raw and overwhelming to the witches and wizards here. Many lost family and friends. Many will blame you as you're the ones present. I gave my opinion on the matter and it has been agreed that the safest tent for you lot is amongst the staff quarters. Any and all issues or complaints should come to me. I will make myself available should you have need. Any funny business will be dealt with severely and many would use underhanded means to see yous in Azkaban. Mr. Zabini.“ Her brusque manner was eased by a lift of the corner of her mouth at Blaise's feigned offense. His mates affected the pureblood polite interest at the speech and he followed suit. “I commend you lot for aiding The Order during the battle. The courage to do what is right, despite your families' allegiances, is a bravery most would not possess. I am very proud of each of you.“
The first few days at the reconstruction base had been fraught with skirmishes and a general dislike for the Slytherins. After working with Order members, professors, and peers for a bit, there was a tentative acceptance.
Except for Draco. He cared nothing for acceptance and gave none in return. The Malfoy heir ate, labored, and brooded in a dark silence.
The blonde wizard wouldn't admit it, but his usual unpleasant demeanor was worsened by a certain witch's inattention. Although said witch was not as unaffected as she'd like them to think.
Theo saw the little blushes and looks she would try to hide.
He wanted flushed cheeks and searching eyes too. It hadn't surprised him when the spoiled blonde had snogged the wits out of her at the battle. It did sting, the bitterness of jealousy was hard to swallow as a spoiled heir himself.
Which is the only reason he could justify offering to voyage into the Forbidden Forest to help round up dangerous beings.
The Care of Magical Creatures Professor had entered the tent that morning with a despondent expression. He needed more hands and wands to corral his curriculum, while clearing out any remaining dark creatures brought by Voldemort.
The witches and wizards at their breakfasts avoided the half-giant's eyes. Many pretending to have not heard his loud nose blowing and tearful woes.
“Ya see?“ He cried when only Looney Lovegood and the dragon Weasley agreed to work with him.
“I-I'll help - stop it Ronald - Hagrid I'll come with you today.“ Granger hesitantly said, elbowing the redhead for good measure when he tried to protest.
Draco and Theo shared a look.
Events at the battle and the Golden Girl's testimony on the Slyherins' behalf had solidified their shared wishful thinking. If the two had a sliver of hope to know her in every way, to be with her, they would exploit it. Use whatever resources to become close with her.
First, Theo had to even the scores.
“I don't have a wand, but I know the forest pretty well.“ Theo put in. Granger and those seated around her turned to look at him as one.
Her brown eyes were wide and adorably bemused.
Potter was studying him. Weasley was red-faced and glaring. The female Weasley leaned in to say something in Granger's ear. The ginger twins were also whispering, unfortunately.
Theo and his fellow snakes had been subject to their pranks, progressively less dangerous pranks, he was happy to note.
“Hagrid we'll come too. George and I need some ingredients for new product.“ The one not named George, grinned disturbingly.
“Yeah, alright. I'm coming, as well.“ The youngest Weasley brother unenthusiatically offered.
They paired off and Theo leeched onto the Gryffindor Princess.
“I could hardly protect myself from an attack, magical or beast.“ He explained at her surprised expression. “I need a partner that doesn't want me dead and won't leave me for dead. Sort of an obvious choice, yeah?“
“No one wants you dead.“ She tsked, rising to the occasion. Theo grinned, he loved to play. His preferred games were witty and flirty, he enjoyed pushing the Golden Girl's buttons. Her blush was so fucking precious, you'd think she was the most pure creature in existence.
Then she would do some barmy Gryffindor shite. Like leading a giant into battle from it's palm and he found it fucking hot. He got lightheaded at the memory of her bottom half being swallowed by the giant's fist and in the next breath aroused at her barking orders to a bloody giant. Her curls had billowed around her in a spastic dance as her wand arm had slashed and flicked from her bird's-eye view.
“Perhaps wouldn't prevent your death.“ The witch mused, strapping a foraging bag across her back. She un-holstered her wand and checked a second holster on her opposite arm.
“Is that her wand?“ He asked quietly, but willed her to look back up at him.
“I don't know why I keep it.“ She muttered, head bent forward. She took a deep breath. “But, it's proven useful to have two wands. Olivander made this one for me. My old wand wouldn't have worked properly, anyway…what with the war changing so much.“
With the war changing her so much, he surmised from the way she used the curls to obscure her face and the tense body language. Theo understood that. His own wand had been confiscated with the rest of Slytherin House's, the day Voldemort fell. It hadn't felt like his for while. He'd nicked a wand from a Third Year Ravenclaw, on his way through the Great Hall with the rest of the snakes.
Marched down to the dungeons like prisoners of war.
The wand had been returned to its rightful owner upon his arrest. Thank Salazar it had been a pureblood bint.
“You lot be careful.“ Potter called from his walk to the partially refurbished quidditch pitch. The lioness' claws came out as she took three large steps in his direction.
“Sod off, Harry!“ Granger shot back, gathering her hair angrily to secure the curls into a knot on top of her head. Winding a band from her wrist around it, curls springing free along her temples and neck.
“That's quite fetching.“ Theo commented, waving to the hairstyle. It was relaxed and sexy, he could get a proper view of her Botticellian face, as well.
“Nott, are you high?“ She placed her hands on her hips and gave him a reprimanding look. He huffed a laugh at the swotty witch asking if he was under an influence.
“No!“ A bit. “Why would my complimenting your…knot be evidence of me not thinking clearly?“ He had his best thoughts when he was high. It dampened the bitter recalls that filled his mind's idle moments.
“A'right!“ The professor called Granger's focus before she could answer. The pairs were spaced along the perimeter of the forest. Weasley and Fitz-Flinchy, and Lovegood with Blaise on either side of them. Theo was settled a bit at the presence of another snake. Hagrid gave the rules and Granger let his abnormally large dog crawl all over her. “Stay wit yer buddy and we'll all have a strong cuppa later. Fang!“ The monstrous canine bounded to his owner.
“Shall we?“ She stood, and brushed her form-fitting muggle trousers as she started into the trees, confidently. “Stay close to me, step where I step and watch the rear. Constant vigilance.“
Theo snorted, then nodded at her patient stillness.
“Take this.“ She pulled a dagger from her bag and offered it, handle first. Theo eyed her sachel dubiously, twitching when the witch waved her wand over them.
Her magic fell over him, causing his own to sing.
The Gryffindor's baggy yellow top and his white undershirt turned the shades of the forest around them.
“Clever.“ He said and trailed after her.
It was broad daylight and Theo still tensed at every rustle. Slats of sunlight fell through the trees, moving over Granger in ethereal beams.
The witch would find a potion ingredient she was looking for and Theo was enthralled with the excited little grin of triumph she would turn on him. He had only entered the forest at Voldemort's bidding a couple times and it had been teeming with dark creatures.
Granger spotted stray unicorn hairs on a bush in a clearing, and did a dance toward them. Her curls bounced with the extra sway in her walk. Her thick thighs and curvy hips inspired all sorts of salacious thoughts of having those thighs on either side of his head. Or shaking with the force of an orgasm he'd given her.
A shift on the opposite side of the clearing had him peeling his eyes off the Gryffindor. Scanning the tree line for threats, Theo froze in place.
“Granger.“ Theo said out of the side of his mouth. The great hairy, green brute had blended in with the woods behind it, and was a bit shorter than the tips of the trees. The teeth were razor sharp and so long that there were gashes from the points surrounding its lips. Mucus covered it's snout, the dimwitted gaze focused on a bowtruckle stabbing the fist that had seized it.. If the wind had been toward them, or if the Forbidden Forest didn't carry a stench of death and dark magic, they would have surely smelled him.
The club in the other meaty hand was spiked and Theo recognized it as one of the gifts Voldemort gave the the trolls fighting for him. The spikes were cursed projectiles that returned to the club shortly after hitting their target, or targets.
“Hermione!“ He beseeched as loudly as he dared. The beast hadn't taken notice of them, yet.
“What is-” Theo picked her off the ground and twirled behind a tree, out of sight of the clearing.
“One of Voldemort's trolls.“ He breathed into her ear, shielding her body with his own. She smelled like a spicy vanilla.
“Was it green? The Forbidden Forest is known to have forest trolls. They're harmless, mostly grunt to scare things off.“ She whispered into his collarbone, assuredly.
“Voldemort recruited this one. His teeth and club are magically modified.“ Theo peered around the trunk he'd wedged her against. The troll was sniffing the air, meandering around the clearing. The bowtruckle now snapped in half on the forest floor.
“Then we have to contain him while reinforcements come.“ A hint of frustration colored her bossiness. He brought his face back to hers, close enough to see mettalic speckles in the syrup brown eyes. The air around them became thick and he cupped her cheek, elated when she merely blinked at the caress.
“Have you always been a bossy swot? Before Hogwarts even?“ The bass of his voice deepened with arousal and her pupils dilated. Her tongue darted out to swipe her lower lip and Theo wanted to suck that tongue into his mouth.
“Yes.“ He grinned at her simple answer, running his nose along hers. “Nott…w-what are you doing?“
“Can I kiss you?“ He blurted and felt her sharp intake of breath, her whirring thoughts were nearly audible. Theo began to lean away, but wasted no time in forming his lips to hers at her nod. Granger's lips were soft and warm, igniting fresh lust in his body.
He groaned when she opened for his tongue and Theo moved closer into her. She moaned when he wedged a leg between hers, and euphoric spots floated behind his eyelids. No witch had effected him like this with a shag, Granger was bringing him to his knees with a snog.
Theo had thought Draco was merely rubbing his kiss with Granger in his face. He now understood.
“Oh, good lord!“ Exclaimed someone that had stumbled into the clearing, the troll roaring in response.
“Yes?“ Theo answered cheekily.
Granger was under his arm and around their tree in an instant. Fitz-flinchy was scrambling back on his hands and feet like a crab, Ron Weasley throwing frantic spells at the charging troll. His hair was surely a garrish beacon for the violent creature. The redhead's immobolizing spell held it off momentarily.
Theo gripped the back of her shirt to stop her venturing closer.
“Mione, stay back!“ The Weasel bellowed, dragging Fitz-Flinchy over a large fallen tree on the perimeter of the clearing. The troll, now moving freely, advanced on the stupid wizards, again.
“The spikes!“ Granger got out as the beast raised the club. Theo banded an arm around her midriff, holding her to him as the sharp points flew toward the floundering duo.
In a matter of moments, the Golden Girl blocked the spikes from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor with a wide tree limb. Ropes wound around the pale green beast until it was thrown off balance and fell to the dirt with an outraged grunt.
“Fucking hell, Granger.“ He exhaled heavily, resting his forehead in her curls. The witch was a menace to his nerves. “How did you fucking survive this long?“
“Oi!“ Weasley scowled at them while getting the Puff to his feet.
Doe eyes filled with curiosity and pink cheeks were visible as she turned her face to his.
“You can let go now.“ Granger mumbled.
As he realeased her, the Slytherin found it hard to do just that.
30 August 1999
IN the midst of war, and after, life continued undeterred. Babies were born, the elderly died, seasons came and went. It was this constant that kept most from being affected by the properly gutting realities of war.
The pure bliss that came with the ignorance to the emotional and physical weight of experiencing battle was widely unappreciated. And yet those who are properly gutted over their participation, things witnessed, or all of the above, are also expected to proceed in their previous lives. The lives that existed before the war.
At the end of the war, those lives were ripe for the taking. But it wasn’t the same witches and wizards coming back.
Most soldiers were young, joining the fight that began before their time.
Many had thought they would never see home again.
Never have to touch their loved ones with the hands that destroyed so much.
Relieved the haunted look in their eyes would only fall on those mirroring the hurt.
Hogwarts was a second home. Her only home in the wizarding world, Harry's only true home, and it was full of things they'd rather not think of.
The pressure in her chest never went away. It was a constant, the anger. She'd been filled with rage for so long now Hermione wasn't even sure what normal was anymore.
But she wanted it. Whatever normal was, she wanted it back.
The sight of her arm made her sick to her stomach. The nightmares kept her exhausted, waking her and Harry nightly. The guilt and regret ate at her like acid in her soul. Headaches from anxious tension visited frequently. Loneliness made things worse, but she preferred it to the concerned looks and pity.
She wasn't pitiful. She was a sodding teenage war veteran. She gave up everything to help Harry and do the right thing.
“Please, Hermione it's too dangerous. Leave that school. We'll move away.“
“You're a child! You've got a heart the size of an ocean and braver than the rest, but this is not your responsibility.“
“I know things have gone pear-shaped. Tell us and we'll do what we can. We might not have wands and brooms, we're still your mum and dad.“
“SHUT UP!“ Hermione squeezed her eyes until static filled her vision. Her fists beat against the side of her head, trying to break apart the unwanted reminiscing.
“Hermione, stop.“ Harry's soft voice and hands brought her back to her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. He knew everything, from Bellatrix haunting her subconscious to the kisses. She silenced her room habitually. Harry, habitually, removed her wards and she let him.
How twisted was she that she wanted to hide and be seen all at once?
Harry was the only one who really saw her anymore. Everyone else saw The maimed Golden Girl, the swotty know it all can't figure out the logic of herself. Knows all the answers, but how to be Hermione Granger again.
No pining after Ron. That was a sodding mess.
Essentially orphaned. By her own hand.
Sold her childhood home. The emptiness was stark without her mum and dad.
Stuck in a world that only wanted her because of who she befriended at school. From a world that had never accepted her with open arms either.
From her inventory Hermione Granger was an illusion. An illusion she was trying to piece together with Spell-O tape and was as successful as Ron's wand in Second Year. After moving with Harry to Grimmauld Place, some days neither of them would want to talk. She stayed in her room for days at a time and on his bad days, Harry wouldn't leave his room either. She could see her smiles and laughs not convince anyone at the Burrow, during dinners her and Harry would apparate to.
The war had ended, but the demands of her did not. And she couldn’t find a single piece of her true self left in the helter-skelter scraps holding her together.
The twins had become quite close with her and she valued their shrugging off the new Hermione's abrasiveness. Ginny and Ron were still two of her closest and dearest friends. Harry though, Harry was her family. He understood her, as much as she'd let on and he knew that too. He didn't push. He was just there and that was priceless.
“You really couldn't talk Kings out of it?“ Harry told her with his arm slung on her shoulder and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Not even as a favor to the saviors of the Wizarding World?“ He sardonically asked, grinning.
Hermione shook her scraggly hair. “Honestly, you and Ron act as though we took on Voldemort for favors from the Ministry.“
Also she'd already tried that and was rudely dismissed.
He sighed and dropped his head back onto the headboard of her bed.
“Quidditch World Cup tickets is the least Ron could have asked for.“ He smiled at her eye roll.
“We're going, Harry. Besides, Ginny would have your bollocks if you did't show.“ She slid off the bed and levitated her school things with a flick then swish of her wand.
“Why you doing that?“ He asked nodding to her floating luggage, following her to the stairs.
“For bloody school, Harry!“ Hermione exasperatedly responded.
“Ugh, Mione we don't floo until tomorrow evening.“ Harry called down to her.
“You're not borrowing a single thing if you leave something behind!“ She loudly said. “Owl Ron and tell him the same! Yous have plenty of time to get your shite together.“
“Are we going to the feast?“ Harry was floating a hastily packed trunk ahead of him as he descended the stairs.
“You think we should?“ She asked after a moment. The answer was no, she did not want to go to the feast. Hermione wanted to enter the rooms of the castle on her own terms.
“I bet the elves would be more than happy to bring us plates of the Welcome Feast.“ Harry shrugged. “I need my NEWTS for the auror program and I want to be there with you lot.“
Hermione and Ginny couldn't wait for that day. Since no mad dark wizards were plotting genocide, Harry had turned his protectiveness and paranoia on them. It made them both barmy, as the witches had their own paranoia. That's leaving off the fact that they too had wands and knew how to use them.
“Let's be - positive about this.“ Old Hermione tried.
“That looked painful.“ Harry snorted and she scowled.
“Let's just get it bloody over with and try to make the best of it.“ She sighed.
“Hermione you're brilliant.“ Harry suddenly brightened. “It's our final year and we can be average Hogwarts students! Get up to harmless adventures and skive off to Hogsmeade!“
“That is not what I meant, Harry.“ She muttered going into the kitchen and greeting Kreacher.
The old elf had warmed to her and even referred to her as Witch, an improvement over The Muggleborn. Kreacher was putting together a tray of tea and sandwiches.
“Well, that's how we're playing it. Let's have fucking fun, Hermione! When was the last time you had fun?“ Harry persisted, seating himself in his spot across from her at the table.
“Thank you.“ Hermione said as the elf placed the tea service in front of them.
“Kreacher! Don't you agree that Hermione could do with some fun?“ Harry took the teapot from the elf and poured their cups.
“I had a lovely time at the pub the other weekend.“ Hermione defended with a huff.
“You got pissed and debated methods of magic with some ancient bloke at the next table.“ Harry said with and unamused look over his glasses.
“Witch be needing a wizard. Masters Malfoy and Nott is not being shy in their rebellious interest in Witch.“ Kreacher grunted at his work station on the counter. Harry and Hermione looked to each other then burst out laughing.
“Trying to marry me off already, Kreacher? I thought we'd come to a level of cordiality.“ She chuckled into her tea.
“Kreacher be serving the most noble of Houses. Witch not being sad and get good sleeps with her wizards.“ The elf said with his back to them.
Harry's eyebrows were in his hairline and she wasn't sure how to react. She cleared her throat and took her time chewing a bite of sandwich.
Harry knew about the kiss from Malfoy and the kiss from Nott, but this was different, more revealing in an unexplainable way.
“Kreacher, I know I said you could visit Malfoy Manor to see your relatives, but what are you up to with those snakes?“ He asked still watching her.
“Kreacher not being up to anything. Kreacher listens when Master Draco and Master Nott be speaking. Theys be liking Witch.“
Hermione felt faint and a little thrill went through her at the elf's information. They like her. They, as in both, like her? To what end?
What the bloody hell did this mean?
Calm down, this could be a ploy of some sort. Embarrass her without getting their poncey arses thrown in Azkaban in the cruelest fashion. Would the snakes still have that depth of malice for her after the trials and the incidents?
Malfoy's dominating plundering of her mouth had awakened a wanton creature that Hermione was fearful to even acknowledge. The expert swiping of his tongue and that knicker-wetting bite he'd administered to her lip had aroused her to an unknown level.
Nott's fiercely adoring, firm yet tender, snog had been no less effective. Different. Malfoy took what he wanted and pulled the sensations from her. Nott seduced. In an arrogantly charming way that only the curly-headed brunette could actually pull off. His lips weren't as full as Malfoy's and his tongue beckoned, rather than compelled.
He had asked and she'd consented.
She had sodding moaned! Both snogs!
The Slytherins' lips and taste had fogged her brain with lust. She hadn't guessed the war would turn her into a slag for two snakes. Her magic vibrated in her core wildly, pleasantly. Shockingly.
Later, when being on her own was easiest, her jumbled thoughts inevitably led her to comparisons. The sheer manliness the snakes oozed from their pores, the sexy assertiveness the wizards had wielded in distinct ways. She berated her shallowness and girly obsession.
So I kissed two blokes. From Slytherin. Who were Death Eaters.
What the bloody hell is wrong with me?
Her dreams, the few she would have, were of molten silver stares and burning sea green irises filling her vision.
Her nightmares would sporadically feature platinum hair and intense grey gazes. Trying to convey something Hermione could never decipher. Her arm under Bellatrix's knife and storm grey eyes, always indecipherable.
Her arm hurt.
“They made the right choices, in the end.“ Harry diplomatically commented, resting his forearms on the table.
“That doesn't replace the past. I doubt very much, that Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott have completely abandoned their ancestral prejudices.“ Hermione responded lightly, her eyes translating his unspoken words. Harry had grown tired of the rivalry and she suspected, enjoyed watching the snakes meeting their intellectual match.
Ron would go mental at the mere suggestion of Hermione contemplating an interest in a snake, let alone two. He'd likely become ward mates with Lockhart at St. Mungos if he found out which wizards.
Hermione Granger was only manipulated if she wanted to be, or had no other option. Eighth Year was a grand example of that.
She had wanted to attend, for her education and a rebellious part of her had balked at being told she had no choice. She secretly plotted to return the favor to dear Kingsley at first opportunity.
Just as she planned to be indifferent and act as though she didn't think of the dominant masculinity or alluring sexuality. As if neither incident had ever happened at all. They were children soldiers, under copious amounts of stress, and she was sure both wizards had thought themselves near death in those moments.
Forced proximity, ignored teenage hormones, and desperation, does not make a reformed prejudice.
On all parties' parts.
•••
INCESSANT tapping on the balcony doors of his bedroom woke him and the room tilted as he gained his feet. He was still pissed from the night before with the others. How he managed to get himself into bed, to Nott Manor wasn't that great of a mystery.
Theodore Nott called for her and a small elf with large hazel eyes popped next to his wobbly person. Velli had been his elf since the womb and took exceptional care of him.
“Velli, please help me.“ He whined to her pathetically and with a purse of her lips, Velli disapparated.
Theo was certain she made the pop louder on purpose. Holding his head he shuffled to the, still tapping, owl. He shielded his eyes from the painful daylight and untied the day's Daily Prophet from it's foot. Hooting unhappily at being sent away without food, the owl left him in sweet silence.
He slumped in the couch by his fireplace. The Prophet forgotten in his lap.
Velli reappeared just as loudly as she'd left and Theo feared he'd cry from the pounding in his head and stomach. The elf bore a breakfast tray and two vials.
“Yous be drinking too much again.“ Velli muttered as Theo grabbed and drank the vials as a wizard dying of thirst. The elf forcefully set the tray on the coffee table in front of him.
The feeling of his head on the verge of implosion and the churning in his belly subsided, but not entirely gone. He waited a few moments and was still out of sorts.
“Velli, you didn't.“ Theo groaned, accepting the cup of tea from the elf.
“Lady Malfoy very smart witch. Master Draco and yous be indulging often. Milder Hang Over and Sober-up Potions teach yous a lesson.“ Velli firmly responded. He groaned again, longer, and cursed relying on the elf to retrieve him from Malfoy Manor.
Of course, Narcissa would enlist any accomplice she could find in steering the Slytherins away from the metaphorical ledge. The ledge being the downward spiral of too fucked up to stand, nightly. The Slytherins being the original four; Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and him.
Narcissa had always been motherly to her son's lifelong friends, but even more so since the war.
Theo was named Lord Nott after his father's life sentence to Azkaban. Narcissa had been the mother he'd never known. His own mother died when he was young and his father an indifferent cunt. The affection and attention he recieved as a child came from the Malfoys.
As a man, Narcissa guided him through running his ancestral home. Delegating and regulating household, financial, and business tasks.
Velli squeaked and he jerked from his thoughts to see her bludger-sized eyes staring at the paper.
He glanced down and voluminous chestnut curls caught his attention. He opened the paper, scanned the article on the front with her moving likeness cutting annoyed, brown eyes at the paparazzi.
Theo snagged the piece of toast Velli had just buttered and jammed, racing to the floo.
“Master Theo! Yous not eat dinner either.“ The elf complained while folding her arms.
“I'm flooing to Draco's! Narcissa can force feed me there.“ He called just before he went through the green flames to the main hearth of Malfoy Manor.
It had been months since they'd seen or heard about her. The papers speculated and embellished most things, which drove the purebloods mad. Hermione Granger was also well known for despising being in the limelight. Especially the gossip column.
He found the blonde wizard in his billiards room. The unofficial snake pit, as it had become in recent months. In the same clothes as last night, hanging halfway off the settee the ponce cracked an eye open.
“There you are!“ Theo chuckled at his mate's grumble of pain.
“Take it fucking down, Theo. Merlin.“ Draco testily slid to the Persian area rug and rolled to his back. “I was hoping to have actually drank myself to death and now I know death would be better than this.“
The platinum hair was disheveled and yesterday's black shirt was half unbuttoned. His trousers were in a heap by the furniture, dressed in boxer-brief pants below the waist.
“Dark. Even for you. Anyway, The Prophet is quite intriguing this morning.“ Theo stepped over Draco and sat on the settee. He shook out the paper. “'Trouble in Love for The Golden Trio?'”
The blonde lurched up and immediately laid back with a whimper.
“Keep going, wanker.“ He dramatically draped his arm over his eyes.
“'The rumors have all been true. The Brightest Witch of Her Age has given her long-time redhead beau the boot. The famous muggleborn witch was said to have grown tired of the disproportionate intelligence levels between the two-thirds of The Golden Trio.'” The two laughed heartily at that.
“Toffy!“ Draco rasped, desperately trying to quell his mirth. He asked the elf for a hangover cure and coffee. “Wait! Has Kreacher mentioned the witch who resides at Grimmauld Place?“
“Yes, Kreacher says Miss Witch be stayings in her room often.“ The elf answered woefully.
“And wizards?“ Draco, more himself after the potion, sat up and rested his elbows on his knees.
“Master Harry be there.“ Toffy slowly answered, as though fearful of her master's reaction. Hell, Theo was a bit worried for the Malfoy heir's line of questioning.
His broodiness knew no bounds, as of late, and the blonde's short-fused temper shortened by the day. The brunette knew how he felt, the pining to see her again and reassure themselves it had been real. To know her thoughts and feelings, as well as ensure the witch knew their intentions.
To be with the lioness, together. A triad of epic proportions.
“No one else?“ He pressed.
“Kreacher not be speaking of the rude ginger wizard in months. If that what's yous asking.“ The elf smiled as they thanked her and disapparated.
The wizards were quiet, engaged in their individual musings.
“So what, she's gotten rid of the knob. Being unattached and a quick snog from each of us is supposed to enamor her? Her mind would be open to being in a triad relationship, with two former Death Eaters? With me?“ He scoffed bitterly.
“The back and forth grows stale, Draco. You kissed her first, remember? Neither of us was supposed to act on our attractions.“ Theo sighed, closing his eyes.
“I thought I was about to become a giant's foot ornament! It was a bloody kiss, fuck all basically, and it was over a fucking year ago, Theo!“ The blonde looked at him exasperatedly, hopelessly.
“Bullshite. You know as well as I do that it was not just a kiss. My magic had never been affected so strongly by a witch and you've fucking agreed!“ He was losing his patience with the moody prat. “More importantly, I know that she felt it too. With both of us, you knobhead.“ He added when Draco shook his head.
“Ah, I thought I heard the gentlemanly language of my sons.“ Narcissa Malfoy glided into the room and delicately held her hand at her nose to protect against the odor of last night's revelry. Her day robes were ice blue with silver accents and her warm blonde hair done up stylishly, the witch restored to her pre-war pristine self.
“Cissa, the perfect counsel for this subject.“ Theo escorted her to the settee. “Watch your step.“ He guided her over her son's legs.
“Dragon, is this a temper tantrum or a result of over indulgence?“ Narcissa looked down her nose at the wizard.
“Mother.“ Draco greeted, shuffling to sit in the arm chair next to her.
“I see.“ Narcissa glanced from Draco's brooding and Theo's pointedly raised brow.
“You bloody squealer!“ Draco accused the brunette. “You've been chatting to my mum about her!“
“One could argue I have been mother to you both.“ Narcissa leveled him with a look. “A mother sees all, Draco. I confronted Theo about Miss Granger when your father was in Azkaban the first time.“
“We've no need for advice on this, thank you.“ He stubbornly maintained. The Malfoy scowl of betrayal was bestowed on the brunette wizard, boredly inspecting his nails.
“As you say.“ Narcissa acquiesced, too readily, with a knowing smirk. She patted Draco's hand and pecked Theo's cheek as she glided away.
“I feel as though I should remind you of how intimidating Narcissa can be-”
“It's legitimate then?“ Draco grilled. “The congruity? My mother told you.“
Theo could not discern his mood, save for the mania in his eyes, and hesitantly affirmed, “Yes…”
“Then let's get our witch.“
•••
FLOOING to the fucking castle-of-his-worst-mistakes as the Feast commenced, proved Blaise could have good suggestions.
Theo was on his very long list of aggravations still. The cheerful fucker had boundless optimism and was shite at staying the course. Draco would have Theo's bollocks if his impulsiveness ruined things with Granger.
In the same vein, the witch seemed to inspire emotional responses. Snogging Granger during the battle of good and evil had certainly not been in the forefront of his mind. She was so godsdamn careless with herself, generally is from what he could tell, and the thought of never knowing her kiss broke something inside of him.
The taste of her tongue, battling with his own, and her nails digging into the skin of his scalp frequented his daydreams. The ardor of her reciprocation made his cock hard in seconds.
He had often fantasized that the fiery Gryffindor would be as spirited in bed as she was in classes. Draco wanted the witch with a profound hunger. A hunger matched by his oldest mate, and had anyone suggested that in the future Draco would share a witch, he would have hexed their tongue out.
“This is bloody eerie, being back here.“ Blaise shuddered dramatically.
“What is eerie, is the abysmal lack of awareness from three former soldiers and spies.“ The Slytherins exchanged pained glances at their Head of House's drawl.
“Severus, your vampirism has gotten well out of hand.“ Draco boredly observed with a small smirk for his chortling mates.
“Were I, in fact, a vampire you three would have been my next meal.“ Snape sneered. “Mind yourselves in these corridors gentlemen. Be on guard and avoid any implications of wrongdoings at all cost. Embarass me or disrespect the witches and wizards who testified to keep us from Azkaban, and you'll wish that fucking snake had digested me.“
“I've never felt more welcomed.“ Theo deadpanned.
The Eighth Years had their own common room and dorms, being full grown wizards and witches meant no curfew either. The four Slytherins were taking full advantage of these modifications and walked to the lake to smoke. Snape had dismissed them and Pansy had stood outside of Snape's office. Draco wondered where the Gryffindor Princess was and what she was doing.
A cluster of large boulders created a wall of sorts for them to lounge unseen by anyone walking from the castle, and still have the view of the Black Lake.
They hadn't been to the new common room yet and none seemed eager to get there. After some banter and gossip between Blaise, Theo, and Pansy a quiet settled. If Draco's lack of contribution was noticed it wasn't acknowledged.
He was still trying to figure out how to best persuade the Gryffindor Princess, or even find her, when loud stomping alerted the snakes to someone approaching. They all scrambled to look around their rocks to see who.
“Watch the hands, Theo.“ Pansy whispered too loudly.
“Nothing I haven't done before.“
“Fuck-”
“Holy Merlin's pants, it's fucking Granger.“ Blaise muttered. Draco shoved the Italian wizard's head to the side, settling for seeing her in place of running to her like a fucking familiar.
Why is she alone?
Theo had attempted to similarly displace Pansy and was smartly disabled of the notion, settling for peering over the witch instead.
The wild curls were unmistakable in the bright moonlight, as was the angry tromping she was taking to the water's edge. The flimsy jumper and muggle denims were not enough layers for this time of night.
She halted a ways down from Draco and his mates. She waved her wand around herself and took a deep breath.
Then she screamed.
She must have cast a wordless silencing charm as the tendons of her neck were straining and her mouth was open in a tortured “o” shape. A hand gripped the collar of her top and she fell to her knees.
The witch silently screamed again and started driving the fist of her free hand into the ground. Draco and Theo both jerked and the other two grabbed the wizards, keeping them out of sight.
What the fuck was this then? Where the fuck were those useless Neanderthals? The Brightest Witch of Her Age is losing the bloody plot and not one of those tossers are there to…whatever the sensitive pricks did. At least be there for her.
I'm right here, Granger.
She punched the ground twice more then slumped, staring at the mud she just properly throttled. A dainty sniffle meant her charm had worn off. The snakes exhaled collectively, all wondering how dark this would get. He felt a surge of anger that she was being seen like this, her assumed private moment on display.
Draco was just as transfixed as his friends when Granger calmly cast a diagnostic charm. Her hand was broken.
Fucking hell Granger.
Without another sound the witch scourgified herself, mended what she could of her broken bones, transfigured a leaf into gauze and methodically wrapped her hand. Tears sparkled in the moonlight reflected from the water.
Merlin and Morgana. Bloody terrifying.
She was a siren of the night. A halo of iridescence outlined her long curls and bent form in a way that made his breath catch.
“Mione!“ It was the Weaslette coming across the dark grounds, Granger instantly got to her feet and dramatically stumbled.
“Gin, I fell down!“ She whined in an over the top drunk bint voice. The Slytherin's all had their brows raised to their hairlines.
The Golden Girl is more suited to Slytherins than I'd thought.
Theo elbowed him when he saw the beaming grin.
“Bloody hell, you're pissed!“ The Weasley laughed, throwing an arm around Granger. “Oh, let's pop in and have Pomfrey look at that hand, yeah? I'm going to hex Neville's bollocks off tomorrow, Hermione.“
The voyeurs rose to stand and watch the witches walk to the castle. The redhead prattling about revenge on Longbottom for over-serving the Golden Girl. The shorter figure added a trip or veered off to the side, a sloshed witch escorted by her friend.
Blaise whistled lowly, “That was…”
“Endearing?“ Theo supplied.
“Bloody relatable.“ Pansy corrected.
“Enlightening.“ Draco stated.
“I was aiming for arousing, but yes all that shite too. Ow!“ Blaise grabbed the bicep Draco had punched.
“She's hiding it.“ Theo's tone was grim as he ran his hands through his dark curls.
“For what purpose?“ Pansy boredly flicked her butt.
“The swotty, know-it-all, helps everybody, bleeding-heart Gryffindor?“ Draco scoffed.
“Well she clearly needs the bloody support, why not from us? We know better than most about the traumas of war.“ Pansy decreed with her most authoratively dour sneer. The wizards shared sighs and eye rolls, but solemnly nodded.
We're here for you, Granger. Whether you like it or not.
•••
PANSY continued fixating on the deranged Gryffindor through the castle, to Blaise's chagrin he had not two, but now three, mates preoccupied with the Brightest Witch of Her Age. The wizards had fucked off to the library, in need of some book or other. Blaise and Pansy knew it was bookworm the two were hunting for. Literally.
His mates were on a concerning level of emotional investment in a not-so-sure-thing. He had thought the Battle of Hogwarts had done their heads in when both heirs proclaimed their affections for the Gryffindor Princess. Hermione Granger was not a two wizard sort of witch, she never gave him the impression she was the relationship type.
Then again, he hadn't spoken to her at length until the reconstruction. The Weasel had most certainly watered that flower, but he valued his bollocks too much to point this out to Draco or Theo. Blaise had learned his lesson after broaching the subject of Granger's virginity at card night in the smelly tent on the construction base. Without magic he had to wait for sunrise to ask McGonagall to heal his face.
“I'm fucking surrounded! Pans, I can't lose you too. The stalker twats are the limit, yeah?“ He wound her long, raven ponytail about his fist in the way that made her gasp.
“Bite me.“ She sweetly countered and leaned into him, licking into the cavern of his mouth. Blaise pressed his hardening cock to her thigh and she hummed in appreciation.
“Where?“ He leered when they came up for air.
“I'll show you in the dorms, come on.“ The witch grinned mischievously and tugged him along by his hand.
The graceful strut and shapely legs of the dark-haired Slytherin leading him quickened his breathing. He couldn't wait to get the straightforward woman he'd come to care deeply for in a private setting.
Sometime during the bollocks Seventh Year, the year of the fuckwit twins' regime, the trauma-based codependency formed into a relationship. An operose, and a bit toxic, relationship that provided great sex and companionship. A best friend that fucked, swore, drank, and duelled like a wizard.
The only witch able to keep his wandering eye firmly placed on her.
“Subtle.“ Pansy commented on the portrait of the Four Founders, gatekeepers the new common room.
“The enemy is upon us.“ Salazar Slytherin haughtily raised a brow.
“Let the enemy come, for a snake lies in wait.“ The couple harmonized on reflex. Neither met the other's eyes as they entered the portrait hole.
“Draco is going to go spare.“ Pansy muttered, already casting a critical glance around the warmly colored quarters. A multitude of neutral to brown shades decorated the furniture, drapery, and large area rugs.
A decently proportioned common area lie directly in front of the entrance with couches and armchairs. Staircases were on the left and right walls. A study area of sorts was set up under the left staircase. A kitchenette and long dining table with nearly two dozen chairs, under the right one. When one stepped further and turned about, a banister could be seen. A walkway connected the corridors on the second floor.
The witch squeezed his fingers when he started for the stairs. “I don't want to sleep apart. We shouldn't have to! Morgana only knows what sort of low-quality bedding I'll have to contend with.“
Blaise chuckled and half carried her to the second floor. In the first corridor he didn't find either of their names on the plaques adorning the doors. This must be the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor rooms, which is why it rattled the Slytherins to find The Boy Who Lived and Granger arguing in whispers in the dark hall.
“I'm your best friend. I know you're not handling being here well. You weren't even that chuffed when you came back from the fucking library.“ Potter used a finger to push his glasses up his nose. “Ginny said she found you outside. I know you didn't drink that much of Neville's flask. Hermione-”
“Ah, we've been spotted. Good show, truly. I was moved. Pans?“ Blaise stage-whispered as the Gryffindors noticed the Slytherins and looked to his witch for her critique. Pansy shot him a glare of disapproval.
“Zabini. Parkinson. Alright, then?“ Potter nodded in greeting.
“You're bunked with me Parkinson.“ Granger's smile came off pained. Blaise feared he'd lose digits if Pansy didn't allow blood to flow passed his knuckles in the next few minutes.
“Well, night all.“ The Chosen One loudly stated and gave the unaffected Gryffindor Princess a stern frown before disappearing into the farthest room on the right.
“Here's the rub, Granger. We- I've- My beauty rest is rather reliant on Blaise's presence and I understand there is no love lost where you and I are concerned. I had hoped to appeal to your kinder side and be able to continue to-”
“I wouldn't dare interfere in a fellow witch's beauty rest.“ Granger interrupted softly with a sincere expression of understanding. The bruising of sleepless nights were glaringly obvious under the Gryffindor's eyes.
“I could help you-”
“Our deepest gratitude.“ Blaise spoke over the surely abrasive remark. “I should like to see you among us snakes this term.“
“Yes, well…It's nothing. We're all adults. We'll swap. I'll just grab a few things and be on my way.“ Granger awkwardly sidled along the wall to the first door on the left side.
Blaise opened his mouth the clarify and bit his tongue to bleeding when Pansy stomped his foot.
“Thank you, Granger, really.“ The abusive witch gushed, trying to hold in the relief Blaise knew she was feeling.
“I shared a small tent with two wizards for nearly a year.“ Granger shrugged sheepishly. Her bandaged hand an eye sore that was hard to ignore. The anguish she had unleashed an hour before evident in her gloomy mood and exhausted movements.
The Slytherins hadn't slept without each other, save for the time in Azkaban, awaiting their trials. Granger had always seemed kind and considerate, despite her annoying swottiness.
“Night, Granger.“ He cheerily bid.
“Erm-goodnight.“ And she left.
“Why the fuck did you try to cripple me? Why did you let her switch rooms? I'm not sleeping in a separate bed.“ Blaise whirled on the smirking witch admiring the green silk bedding on what was clearly her four-poster.
“You're slipping, love. I'm assuming you didn't see who you were roomed with.“
“You're taking the piss!“ Blaised hooted with amusement. “The stalker twats and Granger in the same dorm. I'm not sure if I should be worried or greatly entertained.“
“Leave the prats a note. Granger will be more than they can handle as is, best to warn them.“ Pansy nodded decisively, smiling widely and inking a quill at the desk abutting her bed.
Come morning she'll have either hexed them or frustrated the Slytherins to the point of madness.
A win-win, really. He'd have to find his book, there was galleons to be had on this botched venture of his mates'. Pansy figured one of them would fuck her and jealousy would end the shared obsession. He did hope it worked out, but the odds of Hermione Granger entering into a polyamorous liaison were low.
Blaise knew a number of his peers who would be willing to bet one way or the other, and all the other possibly lucrative events along the way.
Draco and Theo were his best mates, he knew it wouldn't be easy to deter the wizards from their goal. Granger would challenge at every turn and the besotted twats would relish the chase.
Yes, an interesting breakfast it will be and he fell asleep smiling with a naked Pansy laying over his chest.