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Tell me you love me

Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
I'm going back to the start

-The Scientist, covered by Corrine Bailey Rae
  
FIRST YEAR
 At first, I don’t see her. It’s impossible to under the mess of ratty curls and pile of books she’s lugging through the book shop. Something about her gait and the way she pronounces ‘Fortescue's’ alerts me to the fact that she isn’t from here. She’s British alright, but she’s not from our world. 
She’s a Muggle-born.
 I duck behind a bookshelf and peer at her with wide, curious eyes as she pulls one last tome from the shelf and places it atop her precarious stack. Someone should tell her about the charmed totes near the front, but it won’t be me.  Her teeth are too big, I think to myself while screwing my nose up. I don’t like her smile much and her hair is so unruly that I wonder if she might not own a brush. Perhaps that’s something Muggles don’t do - brush their hair. My eyes tighten as I watch the heel of her right foot scratch at her left shin, her sock now slacking around her calf. I give an indelicate snort but I can’t help but be completely entranced by her. She doesn’t look anything like I imagined a Muggle-born might. She’s quite normal, cheerful even, as she bounces from shelf to shelf. 
Too cheerful.
 I decide it’s time for an introduction and I leave my hiding place, strutting towards her with my chin raised high. She turns at just the wrong moment and I knock into her with my shoulder, her books crash to the ground at our feet and we both start yelping and wailing in pain. “You stupid little Mudblood!” I spit at her, and while I watch while her eyes darken in confusion, her lips forming a pout as she tries to make sense of the word. The words are out of my mouth before I can even think properly and all I want is to suck them back in. Up close, I notice she has a smattering of freckles that look like constellations along her cheekbones, and her irises remind of me of the hot chocolate that our elf, Poppy, makes. She’s not scary, not in the slightest. “Mudblood?” I almost soften. Almost tell her that I’m sorry. “Draco,” my father's bored drawl comes from behind me and I jump at his hand on my shoulder. “Have you made a new friend?” “No, Father,” I murmur. His grip finds my collar and I wince as he drags me from the shop, the fabric at my throat cutting into my skin. I can feel her confused stare attached to the back of my head and my cheeks are stained by a blush I wish I could banish from my skin. “What were you doing, Draco?” he hisses. Father is peering down his nose, his lip twisting up in disgust. “She bumped into me, the stupid girl. Dropped her books.” I’m staring down at my feet and grumbling until his hand moves to the front of my robes and he’s practically growling down at me. “Don’t forget your station, Draco. Entering Hogwarts is a privilege and it’s important that you set a high standard for the Malfoy Family. You can’t be seen interacting with Mudbloods,” he hisses the word like it’s a curse…  as if he doesn’t use it at the dinner table. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” He breathes heavily. “Yes, Father.” I give a single, firm nod. He storms off, cloak billowing like smoke behind him and I chance one last peek at the girl with the too-big hair in Flourish and Blotts. She’s staring at me curiously and I frown back at her with condescending, narrowed eyes. 
I can’t wait for school.
 
Second Year
 “As for me? I hope it’s Granger,” I say with a wicked twist of my mouth. Crabbe and Goyle stiffen and Crabbe even seems to anger at my words. It’s not like I mean them. I don’t really want anyone dead - but I really don’t want her dead. I don’t know why, but I might even be sad if she died. Crabbe and Goyle mumble something to each other and scurry from the common room. I plop down on the overstuffed armchair with a huff. I should have had the better sense to find better lackies - those two are duds. They stumble in again moments later, elbowing each other and motioning to me. “What is going on with you twits tonight? You’re acting strange… stranger than usual.” I narrow my eyes at them and watch as they bristle - they don’t want to tell me something. “Whatever, I’ve got to finish my Potions essay. Piss off, will you?” They nod in agreement and rush with clumsy feet down the hall towards our dormitory. Sodding idiots. -------------------------- “I have a headache, Professor,” I announce quickly and I watch as Snape’s suspicious eyes bore into me. He turns - in that dramatic way he does, whipping his cloak around him - and begins to rummage through a potions cabinet. 
Shit. I hadn’t thought he would have a remedy on hand.
 “Sir, it’s not just a headache actually. I think it might be Black Cat Flu.” His eyes snap to me and my hands break out in a sweat. “What are your symptoms?” “I just don’t feel well. I need to go to the Infirmary.” I’m too panicky and I know he can see straight through me. I should have just waited until after class… “What are you up to, Mister Malfoy?” “Just sick.” I shake my head and avoid his prodding glare. “Fine. Off you go.” He waves me towards the door but I can feel his eyes burning holes into my back as I grab my bag and hurry from the class, sneering at Potter and Weaselbee as I pass. I almost turn around a dozen times but somehow, my feet keep shuffling forward. I’m in the Infirmary in ten minutes flat. Standing in the entry, I let out a weak attempt at a cough and Madame Pomfrey bustles towards me. “You? What’s wrong this time, Mister Malfoy?” She’s all business as she visually assesses me. “I’m sick,” I state smugly. “Uh-huh. Grab a bed, Mister Malfoy. I’ll get you fixed up and feeling better in no time.” She turns back towards her desk and I drag my feet forward. Most of the beds are empty and it’s quiet - as most of the patients are Petrified. There are two beds with the curtain drawn and I follow my hunch and toss my bag down on an empty bed, two away from the one I think might be her. 
I shouldn’t be here.
 I can’t stop thinking about what I said that night, how I wished her dead. I need to see her and make sure she’s alright… it’s a need I can’t make sense of and as I sit on the edge of the lumpy cot, I’m twitching with anxiety. “Make yourself comfortable! I’ll be back in a moment.” Pomfrey calls from the door and promptly disappears. I’m on my feet and next to her bed in seconds. I’ve never seen a Petrified person before but I imagine she’ll just be sleeping. I’ll see her and be on my way in just a few minutes. My hand is trembling as I pull the curtain back, the metal hooks scraping and causing gooseflesh to spread across my skin. When I see her, I feel the blood drain from my face. She doesn’t look asleep. She looks dead. Her skin is gray and her eyes blank, her hand reaching out to me. I’m shaking as waves of nausea roll over me. I rush back to my cot and wretch onto the tile floor. 
At least I won’t have to lie to Pomfrey now.
 
THIRD YEAR
 She doesn’t come to see me in the Infirmary - though, I’m not really surprised. After all, why would she? My arm really does hurt but I wish I wouldn’t have made such a fuss - falling to the ground and wailing like a child - it’s embarrassing, honestly. I’m leaving when I notice her bushy head sneaking behind an alcove and my eyebrows fall low over my eyes. 
What on earth is she up to now?
 I stalk her quietly, sneaking near the wall until I’m close. I can just barely make out her hands, winding a small trinket around her neck. 
A time turner?
 Bloody hell, where did she get her hands on something like that? She vanishes before my eyes and I can’t believe I’ve just seen Hermione Granger use a time traveling device.It’s not my first time seeing one; I’m pretty sure my family has one stored from prying eyes somewhere… but it’s not like it’s a commonly-used artifact. Time travel has all sorts of dangerous implications. I should probably turn her in for this… but nothing is free - not even knowledge. I’ll store it away for later use. Information like this is only powerful if you use it at the right time. -------------------------- I am staring lazily into the crystal ball in Trewlaney’s nuthouse of a classroom. Everything reeks of sage and smoke and there are tea stains everywhere. I can’t see a damn thing. I don’t even really look… what a joke this class is. Trelawney deserves to be sacked for the nonsense she’s trying to pass of knowledge. What a coot. As I stare at the blank glass orb perched on the table in front of me, Trewlaney’s shadow falls across it. My eyes roll as I straighten my spine. “Mister Malfoy,” her hazy voice always sounds like she’s peddling fortunes at one of my mother’s parties. “What do you see ?” I scoff. “I see great wealth and a life of easy pampering once I can get out of this bloody school.” She clucks her tongue and sits on the cushion across for me, waving her hand over the crystal ball and even I can see the immediate difference, fog swirls in the confines of the glass. “You don’t have the sight, dear. That much is obvious… but I see here, great, great heartache. Tragedy and death follow you, dear boy. You will make many decisions that will ultimately lead to the death of the girl you love.” My face drains of blood. “She will die in your arms in the fog of battle.” I snort indelicately, trying to remember that I don’t believe a damn thing this woman says. “But, that won’t be the end.” Her glazed over eyes peer at me through the comically thick glass fo her spectacles. “She’ll love you too. In another life.” I swallow the pain I feel at the mere thought of causing Granger pain, of causing her death. I give a dry chuckle. “Brilliant, Professor.” I roll my eyes again for good measure and her fog lifts. “It is a shame you don’t have the sight. In its absence, fifteen inches on the history of Seers and their contribution to ancient religions should suffice.” She gives me a small smile and twirls off and away. 
Stupid bitch.
 But as much as I try to shove a certain bushy headed Gryffindor from my consciousness... I can’t help but think of her.  
FOURTH YEAR
 
Gods, help me.
 She’s never looked like this before. Her hair is cascading smoothly down her shoulder and not the riotous mess is usually is. Her dress actually shows off the fact that she has a body - a fucking fit body, if I say so myself. I can’t tear my eyes from the swell of her breasts, imagining my hands gripping at her slender waist and pulling her close enough to really feel me. I imagine the sound she would make if I kissed her in the spot that always has Pansy whimpering. I feel physically weak, as though someone has punched me in the stomach, but my weakness is quickly overtaken with a vicious rage. I can’t fucking believe she’s on the arm of that twat. I feel my face pull up into a sneer as they enter the ballroom and I realize that if anyone is paying attention, they probably think I’m disgusted by her - as if that were even possible.  You’re pathetic, I scold myself and rip my eyes from them. It’s nothing, just a small infatuation that has now somehow lasted four bloody years. I keep trying to forget about her, to think of anything else but her… but then she’ll raise her dainty hand in class or pout at her textbook and I’m drowning again. She’s such a curiosity to me and even though she’s forbidden - maybe because she’s forbidden - I’m desperate for any bit of her I can get. She and Weasley are arguing again and I’m not even surprised...what adolt. He seems to have his knickers in a twist over Krum and I don’t quite blame him, although witnessing his jealousy makes me feel an odd sense of protection over Granger. She’s not his to be jealous of in the first place. The night is finally winding down and Pansy is running her mouth to the other Slytherin girls. I’m leaning against the giant doors to the Hall when I hear Granger shouting. Potter and Weasley look chuffed as they stumble up the stairs and towards their tower. Granger looks…devastated. She’s hunched over and silent tears are falling down her cheeks. 
I could throttle those fucking pricks.
 I should go back to the Dungeons. I should grab Pansy and shove her in a broom closet and snog her until she can’t breathe. But of course I don’t do those things… I must have had too much of the spiked punch or maybe someone has hexed me but I’m moving closer to her. My feet shuffle forward, one after the other, and I’m thinking about wrapping an arm over her shoulder before I remember who the fuck I am. I settle for leaning arrogantly on the stone wall and looking down at her with a curve to my brow. “What’s got you in such a fit, Granger?” She sniffles but doesn’t look at me. “Potter didn’t feel up to snogging you tonight? Or is it Weasley? I can never tell which twit you’re slumming it with these days.” I snort. 
Fucking look at me.
 “You really outdid yourself by pairing up with Krum. Bloody oaf can barely string more than three words together. I’m sure you two have the quite the intellectual spar going on.” I roll my eyes and I wonder how much more vulgar and offensive I’m going to need to get before she’ll give me some semblance of attention. “Bet you’ve already spread your legs for him. Didn’t realize you had such a thing for Quidditch players; if I didn’t find you so personally disgusting on a molecular level, I might add my name to the list of wizards who get to take Hermione Granger on their broomstick.” Even I flinch at that. Her eyes meet mine and I’m breathless in the wake of her rage. I want to take it back, shove the words back into my mouth and out of existence but unless she’s still got that bloody time turner nestled between her breasts, I don’t think that will be happening. She’s vibrating with the sheer force of her anger and her once sorrowful eyes are now glossed over with hate. I should apologize. Mother would want me to apologize, even to a Mudblood; I flinch inwardly at the word, I loathe even thinking it. Instead, my eyes flicker towards my expensive, polished shoes and my hands fidget deep in my pockets. “Do you always have to be so positively rotten, Malfoy?” Her mouth is twisting around her words and she looks feral as she sneers at me. “What kind of monster are you? That you would see a girl crying and rush to kick her while she is down - a new low, even by your impossible standards for a human being. What have I ever even done to you? Other than dare to exist in this world you feel you are so entitled to?” Angry tears are streaming down her face; she pushes to her feet and shoves my shoulder with her pointed finger. I’m suddenly having flashbacks to when she decked me last year. “On your endless conquest to be the most disgusting person to walk the face of the earth, please, try to forget about my existence entirely.” “Consider it done, Granger,” I growl at her. 
I don’t mean it...
 “Piss off, Malfoy.” She scoops up her heels and storms barefoot up the steps, shoulders still shaking and I swallow thickly. 
Monster.
 That’s what she thinks of me. That’s all I’ve ever shown her, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
I slither back to Pansy and turn down her advances to sneak away for a bit. I lie to her, tell her I have a headache. I do feel nauseous but it’s nothing to do with the punch or the headache I fabricated. It’s all to do with Granger. 
FIFTH YEAR
 Things are changing and fast. Things around home this summer were tense - closed door meetings were a daily occurance and I could see my father unraveling before me, buckling from the pressure. In July, there was a huge blowout. My mother and father got into a screaming match so loud it drifted up to my bedroom. I’ve never heard them yell like that, at least not at each other. My mother stormed into my room and with a wave of her wand, a trunk was packed. I haven’t returned to the Manor since. We spent the rest of the summer in France, with mother trudging around our summer house, weeping openly. -------------------------- I haven’t done anything wrong. I know that. But I can’t help my hands from shaking as I wait in the Headmaster’s office.
He’s asked to see me without cause and I’ve been so anxious I don’t think I’ve eaten since Sunday at lunch… it’s Tuesday. His phoenix is squawking near his desk and it’s setting my nerves on edge. I wish it would light itself on fire and be done with it. I hear the door creak open and I politely stand to greet him. “Mister Malfoy,” Dumbledore’s rich voice fills the air and I think I’m sweating. “Professor.” I nod with a tight-lipped smile and return to my seat. “Was there something you wanted to discuss?” “Indeed. I wanted to see how your home life was getting on.” He sits comfortably, folding his long fingers across his chest, resting on his beard. My jaw snaps shut and I’m grinding my teeth so hard they’ll flat nubs before the end of this. “Splendid, Sir.” “Is that so?” His eyes crinkle at the edges as he appraises me. “My official capacity as Headmaster is not only to ensure that the students of Hogwarts thrive under the roof of this castle, but in all ways. If you needed help, even on a personal level, I hope you know my door is very much open.” “Thank you, Professor,” I reply lamely, my eyes blank. I can’t believe the audacity this skeleton has to presume to know anything about my family. “Sybil informed me of the prophecy she made in regards to you and Miss Granger.” I see red and my fists clench. “Granger?” I hiss. “Ah, well.” His eyes twinkle behind his half moon spectacles and I think I see a trace of a smile on his bearded mouth. “That’s who she saw in your crystal, I thought she’d have mentioned that. Or that perhaps you already knew?” “I don’t believe in Divination,” I retort. “Well then, that solves that. I would ask, however, that if you see your prophecy starting to come to fruition, remember there are always other paths to take. I am at your disposal in that regard. I fear your home and family may soon be at the center of some very difficult times. If you ever need —” “I understand,” I snap. I’m sick of fucking hearing about this. “Is that all, Sir?” He gives me a sad nod. He didn’t get through to me like he had hoped and he seems to be almost remorseful about it. I rush from the room and by the time I’m in the hall I feel like I’m going to pass out. My head is swimming, clinging to the rubbish prophecy Trewlaney made and everything Dumbledore has just dumped on me. My breath is coming quickly and I almost feel like tears might betray me at any moment. I rest, for a long moment against the cool stone and close my eyes, trying to quell my haggard breaths. “Malfoy?” I tense immediately. “Bloody fucking hell. Of course.” I sneer and I pry my eyes open. “What the fuck do you want, Granger?” She bristles from my curse and her lips make a harsh pout. “I am making rounds, Malfoy. You seemed to be in distress and I was just checking on you.” “If I am in distress it’s because of your lot making my life so bloody difficult all the time.” “My lot? What, Muggleborns?”  What? No, of course not. You good lot.  “If that’s what you want to call yourself.” My lip curls in disgust and she gives a resigned shake of her head. “Curfew is in half an hour. Don’t let me catch you out of your dormitory or I’ll deduct house points.” She continues her pointed walk and as soon as her back is to me, my sneer fades. I study the way her skirt swishes around her thighs and the way her hips dance with each step. I want to pull her back to me and bury my face in her neck, let my hands flow over each curve of her until she’s ripping my shirt open because she can’t bear to not be touching me. Instead, I stomp in the opposite direction back towards the dungeons. Back where I belong. -------------------------- I’m kissing up to Umbridge so much she probably has permanent lip marks on her fat arse but the truth is I loathe the bitch. Her pinched face is always looking at me with such pride that I feel sick to my stomach. I can tell Potter’s up to something and this time he’s dragged his friends along with him. I want to warn her, tell her that Umbridge knows they’re up to something but I can’t ever seem to find the time… or the words. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. At least that’s how I rationalize it and before I know it I’m swept up in the Inquisitorial Squad, hunting them down for extra credit. I wonder if everyone has times like this - times when they are rushing towards things they don’t want to do and feeling completely powerless to change any of it. I can’t stand to look at her when we drag them into Umbridge’s office. I’m so ashamed I’m sure she’ll be able to see it written across my face but instead I stab my wand harder into Longbottom’s fat neck. 
SIXTH YEAR
 It’s the first full day of class and Slughorn’s prattling on - I can hardly focus. My mind is shredded these days and the nausea that once made an occasional appearance has moved in for the long haul. Every time I close my eyes I see him. His gray, scaly skin and red eyes... I want to scratch my skin off. “...For instance, I smell freshly mown grass, fresh parchment and sp-spearmint toothpaste.” Granger is stuttering over a swirling cauldron. I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose: rosebud and old leather, the kind that seeps out of the first editions in the library. We break out into the practical portion of class and I almost smile. Almost.  Granger’s hair is three times larger than it was at the beginning of class and she’s so frazzled at her gurgling cauldron that my lips twitch. -------------------------- “I need that. Her indignant tone alerts me to her presence and I slowly raise my suspicious eyes to her outstretched hand. “‘Scuse me, Granger?” “You heard me.” She stamps her foot and I imagine she thinks she’s a lioness, but she’s all lion cub. “Ah yes, the joys of being within a Quidditch pitch length of you. Hearing is not the issue, it’s that your shrill screeching has left me in a state of bewilderment.” Her eyes narrow and her arms cross tersely in front of her. I’ve missed riling her up; it’s the rare bright spot in my otherwise dreary existence since I’ve accepted my mission. “Shut up, Malfoy. I need that book for my Arithmancy project.” “Ah, that explains the pointing and the shouting but fails to address my involvement.” I smirk up at her and she becomes visibly more enraged. “You’re right, Malfoy.” She’s using her condescending tone and my lips twitch up into a smile. “Let me dumb this down for you. I — ” she points to herself “— need… that — ” another point of her dainty finger “— book .” She places her palms side by side, pantoming a book opening and closing repeatedly. My instinct is to tell her to piss off but I feel like I’ve been drowning in my mission and she’s the smallest breath of fresh air I’ve had. “Why don’t you have a seat on my knee here and I’ll let you read alongside me?” I lean back with another smirk and pat my knee. I almost laugh at how wide her eyes become. “Why do you have to be such a prat, Malfoy? Just give it to me. You won’t pass the class anyway, one of us might as well get use of the book.” I gasp in faux horror and clutch at my chest. “Kitty has claws. Relax; I’ll be done with the book shortly, Granger. You can wait here, just try not to bother me by doing something like talking...or breathing.” I wave at the open seats around me. She growls and falls into the chair across from me, taking to tapping her agitated little fingers against the wood desk. I can’t help but chuckle as I suck my tongue between my teeth. “And what’s so funny?” she snaps. “Funny part of the book.” I chew on my lip as I stare blankly at the pages. “A funny part of the Arithmancy book?” She sneers at me. “Yep.” There’s a long string of silence when I continue to stare at the pages without reading a word and her fingers continue their annoyed rapping. “I know you’re thick, Malfoy, but how long does it take you to read a bloody page?” “Don’t you have something you can work on, other than memorizing the stunning lines of my jaw?” “I’m not going to study with you!” “Then leave.” I shrug but I’m terrified she might do as I’ve suggested. “Give me the book,” she demands again. “It’s just the words are so big and it takes me ever so long to sound them out…” I drawl with a bored wave of my hand. I almost choke when she giggles. 
She giggles.
 The giggle is followed by a sigh and I can hear her removing her a book from her bag. I thank Salazar she’s not leaving. I wonder what my friends would think if they saw me here with a Mudblood in this tiny corner of the Library - but who am I kidding? My friends won’t find me here on a Saturday. “You look like shit, by the way,” she murmurs and I am trying not to smile. “Impossible.” I lean back again and take a long look at her face, the curves of her cheek I’ve forgotten about. “With my pedigree?” I answer with a cocky smile and she rolls her eyes but I swear a see her smile a bit. She’s not wrong, I’ve lost nearly fifteen pounds and my cheeks are sunken. All I can feel is the taint of dark magic on my arm and I wish I could cut the skin from my body. Wish I could forfeit the damn arm if it meant I could go back to the time before.  “Harry thinks you’re up to something,” she says with a hoity twist to her mouth. My stomach plummets. “Maybe I am.” “Hah! Big, bad Draco Malfoy.” She’s mocking me. “Everyone knows you’re all bark, no bite.” “You have no idea, Granger.” I chuckle darkly and she gives me a somber look, gulping. “You know, if you needed help… needed someone to —” I start panicking at the thought of someone caring about me, of her caring about me. I slam the book shut and slide it across the table at her. “Mind your own fucking business, Granger.” -------------------------- I can’t stop looking. I want to rip his fucking head from his neck… but that’s not my place. It’s not even my place to bear witness to her getting thoroughly snogged against the brick outside of Sluggy’s Christmas Party, but I can’t stop. She’s panting as his lips drag along her jaw and her eyes are squeezed tight. She might not like what he’s doing, in which case - it is my business, right? As a gentleman. But then she makes the softest little whimper as his hands squeeze her waist and he steps into her. 
Fucking McLaggen.
 Disgusting excuse for a wizard, if I say so myself. I don’t give a shit if he’s a Pureblood, he’s a fucking git. What on earth Granger is doing with him is mind blowing because there’s no way he has a real chance with a girl like that. I gulp as his hand glides over the bodice of her dress and palms at her breast and her eyes fly open. “Cormac,” she says in a breathy whisper, her hands tugging at his overgrown hair. “Maybe we ought to slow things down… We should get back to the party.” His hand goes up to the strap on her dress and I reach for my wand, about to hex the sodding fool until his teeth turn to jelly and run down the back of his insufferable throat. I don’t need to. I grin as she flicks her wand and causes a spark to hit the stone behind him, he turns to investigate and she deftly turns from his lecherous hands and dips back into the party before he knows that he’s lost his girl. As if Hermione Granger ever needed me to save her. -------------------------- It’s tonight. I’m supposed to kill him tonight and I can’t breathe. I can’t even remember  the last time I took a full breath. I race from the Room of Requirement, knowing that Bella and her lackies will be hot on my heels; I sprint in the wrong direction. My feet are carrying me somewhere I hadn’t intended and I don’t stop until I’m at the door to the Library. I tear through the aisles, eyes wild as I search every table for her. She has to be here. She’s always fucking here. I stop in my tracks when I spot her curled up in the giant armchair. Her leg is bent up and I can see a flash of her bare thigh. The thigh I’ve imagined dragging my tongue up while her hands are buried in my hair, her mouth begging for me. She spies me and her eyes grow wide in confusion. “Malfoy?” She straightens when she takes in my appearance and I lose all my pride, all my strength. I rush to her side and fall to my knees. “Get back to your tower. Don’t come out until tomorrow, don’t stop for anyone, don’t even look back. Just go —” the words are rushing out of my mouth faster than I can keep up. “Malfoy —” she breathes and her cocoa eyes are studying mine. They’re softer than they’ve ever been. Her face is so close that in another time, another place we could be lovers sharing a tender moment. But we’re not. We’re just a Death Eater and the girl he can’t stop thinking about. “I know it sounds fucking insane but I need you to trust me. I need you to run as fast as you can and stay there. Please.” My heart is pounding and I’m fucking begging but I can’t stand the thought of what Bella will do… what Greyback would do. “Why? Draco, if something’s wrong I can help you. We can get Dumbledore —” She’s frantic and the hope looks so tragic on her face that I can barely stand it another moment. My slick palms grasp her cheeks too roughly. “It’s too late. You have to go.” I’m staring at her so intently, that she has to get it. She has to understand. “Do you understand me?” When she doesn’t respond, I shout. “Granger! Do you fucking hear me? Run. They will kill you - tonight! They will kill you… or far, far worse. Please! ”   She nods and I release her, hands falling to my sides as she scurries away with her belongings scattering around her. She runs from the library, runs from me. The Monster. -------------------------- 
SEVENTH YEAR
 Her screams are echoing off the empty walls. The walls that will forever be tainted with her torture. 
Fucking idiots.
 Of course they’d get fucking caught. Of course they couldn’t just keep their heads down and away from Snatchers. I’ve seen that Head Snatcher before and I wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t write his own name, but he’s somehow managed to catch the Golden-fucking-Trio. What I would give to march down to that cellar and Crucio the hair off Potter and Weasley for letting this happen to her, for letting her get caught. They were supposed to be able to at least protect her, at least keep her safe from something. Useless fucking twats. My eyes are closed and I’m trying to imagine the look in her eyes the last time I saw her. The eyes that still had hope. Her hair had been tied up and her necktie loose, her legs draped over the armchair near the window in the back of the library. Another guttural scream tears itself into existence and I chance a look. I peek through barely-there slits in my eyelids and I want to wretch stomach bile onto my mother’s expensive tile. Her back is bent so unnaturally she looks as though her spine might snap and I wish I could fucking do something.  I should hex that crazed bitch or kill her. Maybe kill them all. But I don’t - I don’t do anything. When Bella hovers over her and stabs into her perfect skin, I turn away, unable to stomach it a moment longer. -------------------------- I’m staring out the window of my bedroom over the grassy hills of Wiltshire. I try to remember any happiness but it feels as though Dementors have taken residence here along with Him. All happiness has been leached from my body, not there was much to begin with. I can’t stop thinking about her. I desperately want to know she made it. Want to know that Bella’s knife didn’t find her as Dobby helped them flee. I think of the Prophecy. She’ll die in your arms.  It gives me a sad hope that maybe she’s still alive. That maybe Trewlaney isn’t full of shit and I can still somehow change her fate. I head for the library, ready to pull every book I can on prophecy, and how to change it. -------------------------- There’s death, rubble and dark magic everywhere. I’m stepping over just as many stones as bodies but I just need to make sure she’s okay, need to make sure she’s still alive. I can’t lose her. I almost snort. As if she was never mine to lose.  My feet are carrying me through the school I once felt at home in and it’s almost laughable when I think of the people dying here tonight. But it won’t be Granger. It was decided long before I arrived on the grounds that she was my only goal tonight. I would change that ridiculous prophecy and she wouldn’t die. Not here. Not tonight. I see a shock of red hair and I twist around to peer through the crowds. I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s here. She’s alive.  She’s holding hands with fucking Weasley but given the state of things, we will deal with that later. Instincts take over and I rush through the crowd to reach her. “Granger!” I growl as soon as she’s within earshot and Weasley turns a bright shade of red. I reach for her arm but his fat hand is around my neck, crushing the air from my throat. “Ron!” she shrieks as my skull cracks against the stone wall. Her hands are pulling at his forearm, trying to loosen his grip on me. “Hermione! He’s probably here to kill you!” He shoves her back so hard that she stumbles to the ground, and he presses farther into my neck until I feel like my Adam’s Apple is going to burst. My eyes are bulging as she raises her wand to him and flicks her wrist, sending him flying back and cursing at her. 
She saved me.
 “Stop, Ronald,” she pants. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?” I’m fighting for my breath but manage to spill a few words out. “You’ve got to leave. There’s a way out, through the dungeon… come with me.” I grab her hand and start tugging her behind me but she digs her heels in. “I can’t leave, Malfoy! People are dying! We are looking for —” “Can’t you hear me you stupid witch?” I shout. “They’re going to kill you! Do you not understand that? You’ve got to fucking go.”  She seems disappointed at what I’m saying but at least she’s listening to me. I just need to get through to her, need to take her away from this fucking pit of death before someone steals the breath from her lungs. The last thing I see is Weasley’s twisted sneer as he raises his wand to me. It’s all black then.-------------------------- I wake and cough the dust from my chest. It’s too quiet and my head is spinning from what’s most definitely a concussion. 
Fucking Weasley.
 I stagger to my feet, knees shaking as I claw my way forward. 
Where is she?
 The only sound I can hear is the whooshing of the blood pumping in my ears and my feet are failing me. I have to find her; I’ll fucking kidnap her if I have to. I just can’t lose her. A hand yanks at my collar and I growl, turning to find a masked Death Eater. “Lucius has been looking for you,” drawls a familiar, muffled voice I can’t place in my haze. I scramble from his hold and fall to my knees just as she rounds the corner and stops dead in her tracks, curls wild around her small face. “Granger,” I whisper to no one. 
Why did she come back?
 I know now that these are my last moments with her and I feel my heart crack in my chest so irrevocably that I know it won’t ever heal. I consider that maybe she was coming back for me. Maybe Weasley hexed me and dragged her away but she was coming to make sure I was okay. As if that mattered, as if her safety wasn’t everything and mine was meaningless. It gives me a moment of peace… of hope. She raises her wand at the same moment that I reach for mine but we’re both too late. Magic jets from behind me and I scream, reaching out to her. She lets out a small cry and I see her wand hand drop, her free hand cradling her stomach as blood begins to drain from her, pooling at her feet. 
No, no, no, no! What just happened?
 Realization dawns on me. I snarl as I get to my feet and turn on the animal behind me,  screaming a slicing spell as I slash my wand through the air and I can feel my magic tear through him. I don’t have time to focus on the fact that I’ve just killed someone… don’t have time to even think about who it was. I stumble the few feet towards her and shove my shaking hands onto her belly, willing the blood back into her body. “Fucking hell, Granger!” I think I’m crying but all I can see is blood. Her blood. “Why didn’t you fucking leave?” I’m shouting at her with misplaced anger and her hand goes limp and falls to her side. “You should have fucking left! It’s okay, I’ll get you to Pomfrey. She’ll have something… Do you know a spell? I should have studied healing spells before I came. Why didn’t I do that?” I’m in such a state of shock that words are falling out of me before I can make sense of them. “Wh-why?” Her eyes flutter and her breath rasps as she chokes on her blood. “You could have been safe. I could have gotten you out of here…” I’m shaking my head, imagining anything I could have done differently. Imagining all the things I could have done differently. “Why me?” She coughs and blood drips from her perfect lips and I’m fucking weeping. My cold eyes shoot up to meet hers, this poor girl. The last thing she’ll ever fucking see is my face. She doesn’t deserve that, she should be seeing her friends, Potter… hell, even Weasley. But at least she’ll have someone who loves her staring back at her, even if she doesn't know. Even if I’ve done a shit job at making her feel anything other than hated… I know. “I just…” My voice cracks and I lift her into my arms, cupping a bloody hand over her cheek, tracing the freckles I’ve adored for 7 years with a trail of blood from my thumb. I want to tell her everything right then.  About the day I saw her in the book shop and how beautiful I thought she looked the night of the Yule Ball… there isn’t enough time, her breathing is too slow. “I just didn’t want you to die, Granger,” I manage with a thick voice and I wonder if she knows. If I have to say it. If I can even figure out how to say those words to another person. “Okay.” She smiles and her eyes flutter back in her head one last time, a final breath puffing past the lips I’ve imagined myself kissing a thousand times. “Granger?” I ask, lifting her head and shaking it slightly. “Granger,” I try again, more firmly. “Granger!” I don’t even attempt to hide the tears that are streaking my dirt caked cheeks. “Fuck!” I’m sobbing as I stare at her lifeless eyes. I lay her head down and sit back on my heels, my shaking hands covered in her still warm blood. She’s dead. Hermione Granger is dead. -------------------------- 
AFTER THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS
 The Manor is empty for the first time in years and while I once craved it, now I can’t bear the sight of it. I walk the haunted halls with only one mission, one thing on my mind. I’ve checked father’s study, mother’s tea room, the drawing room and every guest room. I’ve walked the aisles of the library and even ripped my father’s wardrobe apart. There is no sign of the damn necklace that’s been evading me for weeks. I’ve tried to gain access to Gringotts but things are complicated. My father isn’t yet allowed correspondence and for some reason, the Ministry seems to be more preoccupied with trying Death Eaters than it is with expediting my petition for temporary access. I can’t breathe in a world where she doesn’t exist. Even if she was never mine, even if I never got a chance to hold her or tell her everything… the world was still better. Everything seems darker now - bleaker and heavier in her absence. I’m obsessed with finding the one artifact that might bring back hope, might bring her back to me. -------------------------- Weeks pass and nothing changes. Until, finally, I receive a letter from the Ministry. I’ve made it abundantly clear they can have every Galleon, Sickle and Knut in the Malfoy vaults if I can get access to it first. They settle for a paltry fifty percent of its contents and send along the paperwork allowing my access.-------------------------- I’m standing in our vault at Gringotts, surrounded by wealth that most people couldn’t imagine in their wildest dreams, dark magic pulsing in the air around me. I grip my wand, the one Potter saw fit to return a few weeks ago and take a deep steadying breath. I’ve run out of options… this is the end of the line. “ Accio Time Turner.” I flourish my wand in the air and lift my other open palm - waiting, praying, begging to feel the small object fall into my hand. Every moment that passes, a little of my hope dies. It floats off into the nothingness where Granger waits and I wonder if maybe she can see me somehow, if maybe even in the afterlife she will have a small piece of herself that knows I wasn’t the Monster she thought I was. But then, just as I am about to close my palm, I feel it. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, the near nothingness of weight it holds, lighter than a snitch. I dare to peek through my clenched eyelids and see the small, tarnished gold necklace. It looks almost identical to the one Granger wore in third year and I can’t believe I’ve finally fucking found it. I ghost a laugh and close my palm. The last six weeks since she passed have been nothing but searching and planning for this moment but now that’s arrived I’m trembling. The amount of time I am hoping to pass is dangerous, probably too dangerous. I could die. Death doesn’t seem quite as horrifying to me anymore; existing when she doesn’t is far worse.   I slip it around my neck and Apparate to the street outside of Flourish and Blotts and duck in the alley so I won’t be seen. I close my eyes, placing in my mind the moment I need to visit again. The moment where I can change everything else that follows. I begin twisting the time turner, slowly at first and then faster and faster as the world shifts in a haze around me. I can see the darkness of the war and the brightness of the summers that preceded it.When I’m finally there, finally in the moment I’ve imagined a thousand times, I sigh in relief. 
I can’t believe I’ve actually bloody made it.
 I move towards the entrance to the alley again and rack my brain for the sequence of events that day. We went to Malkin’s and my father ran into Crabbe senior; he was frustrated with him and sent me along to Flourish and Blotts - he told me to wait for him there. I peek from the corner of the alley and see straight in the window of Madame Malkin’s. He’s sneering at him and Crabbe looks visibly smaller in the shadow of my father. Even with the familiar look of disgust and ever present loathing in his eyes, he looks younger, less troubled. My heart is pounding and for as much thought as I put into this, I feel horribly under prepared. I close my eyes and try to gather my thoughts, string words together that will make him understand. I haven’t heard his metal tipped walking stick click against the pavement in years but I’d know it anywhere. He crosses the mouth of the alley and I reach out, grabbing a fistful of his robes and drag him backwards into the alley, tossing him backwards so that he stumbles. He’s reaching for wand but mine is at his throat in moments. He’s snarling as his back presses against the wet stone. I can see the surprise on his face as he takes in the shade of my hair, the familiar lines of my jaw. I smirk at him, our noses almost touching. “Hello, Father,” I drawl slowly. “Fa-father?” he stutters. The blood draining from his face as his eyes start frantically trying to make sense of my words. “I’m here to give you a warning.” My lip is curled up as I shove the tip of my wand deeper into the hollow of his throat. “How is this possible?” he breathes. “I’m from almost 8 years in the future.” I hold up the dainty time turner, letting it dangle in front of his gaze. “I’m here to warn you about where you’re going to end up if you don’t stray from the path you are currently on.” “A warning.” He chuckles darkly and straightens his spine, even as my wand crushes against his skin. “You will lose everything. Currently, you are sitting in Azkaban. Mom and I are gone, we haven’t visited you and we have no intention to. Your trial is set for the end of the summer. They are asking for the Kiss or Life in Azkaban.” I toss the information out offhandedly, like it’s nothing to me. “Trial?” His brow furrows “For being one of Voldemort’s loyal followers.” He gives a low hiss and his eyes narrow at the sound of the Dark Lords name. “You are on trial for Murder, Torture, Kidnapping.” “Voldemort is dead —” He rolls his eyes. “He returns.” My voice is losing some of his strength as I remember all the horrors I’ve seen so far. “He burns the Wizarding world to the ground. Our entire generation is bleeding or dead, Hogwarts is in rubble. He tortures you and Mother ruthlessly and moves into the Manor. He attempts a mass genocide so far reaching that thousands of innocent people are slaughtered.” Father gulps once and his jaw tightens. “And I — ?” “And you? You are his right hand, trailing at his coattails and begging for scraps until you are taken by a team of Aurors shortly after his demise. You will never see the light of day again. You are waiting in a cell, alone, for Dementors to rip the soul from your lips or - best case scenario -you go completely mad from the isolation.” He’s considering this… considering the likelihood that I might not be completely mad. “Why would I believe you?” I gulp and fumble with my cufflink before shoving my sleeve up to expose the Dark Mark and his eyes widen in horror. “I’m your son. And in that store, I’m just eleven years old. I still look up to you, still want the best for you and mother. All those things that you will lose? You take so much more from me. You strip me of my childhood and innocence and plant hate and malice in their place. I’ll never forgive you, never speak your name again. You’ll never meet a grandchild and you’ll lose your wife.” His eyes flicker slowly closed on a long blink. “What can I do?” He spits the words out like they taste of acid. “Don’t stop me from introducing myself to the Muggleborn in that store; she’s part of the team that saves the world. Don’t keep drilling into me these falsehoods that we are somehow above the rest of the world because we are inbred-Purebloods. Find Ron Weasley’s rat and murder him - he’s an Animagus and is the beginning of the end. And Professor Quirrell too; Voldemort needs him to survive. Report it to Dumbledore immediately…” I can’t think of all the things I should warn him about. As one thing changes, so does the next. I need him to do the right thing without a fucking roadmap to get there. “There will be more… many more times in the coming years where you will be called upon not to be an utter arse and fear-mongering bigot. I would ask that you rise to the occasion.” I release him and drop my wand, watching him straighten his robes and breathe slowly. He lifts his hand over his fallen walking stick and it rises to meet his palm. “I’ll do my best.” He nods and I breathe a sigh of relief - Gods, let this be enough. “Do better than that.” My chin raises proudly. “Goodbye, Father.” He swallows and moves quickly for the exit to the cramped alley we’ve been sharing. He gives one final somber glance over his shoulder, staring at his grown son who I’m sure he is thinking looks remarkably like him, and then he is gone. I wait a moment, until I hear the bell over the door to Flourish and Blotts and I rush to the street. I peer into the dusty windows and I see her. It takes my breath away to see her breathing again, to see her innocent and well, unburdened by the years of war. I can’t stop the slow grin creeping across my face as I watch myself stumble over to her. The books fall at our feet and we both wail from the pain of it. I’m just about to sneer and insult her when my father’s hand finds my shoulder. He’s… apologizing? With a wave of his wand the books levitate next to Granger and my younger self is staring at him with wide, dubious eyes. I almost choke on my shock when he extends his own hand to the young, bushy haired girl and she grins up at him and introduces herself. He gives the younger-me an encouraging nod and I can tell that if anyone were to bump into me now, I would fall over from surprise. But I do it. I raise my hand to her and she takes it. There are a million things I wish I could run and tell myself, to explain what she will mean in the grand scheme of his life. Tell him to not hang out with those losers Crabbe and Goyle and not to walk around with my chin held too high. I want to tell him not to ruin everything, to keep her alive and not make endless wrong choices. But I can’t. I have to do the one thing I swear I’d never do again… I have to trust my father. I take a step back into the alley and say a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening. I don’t know how time travel works exactly but I offer a silent prayer that when I return to my time, it will be to a reality where Granger is still alive. Where I might know her. With shaking hands I begin to twist the time turner again, nausea racking my body as I realise the gravity of what I’ve done. -------------------------- I haven’t moved but everything is different. It’s nothing like the abandoned side alley I was standing in moments ago. The street is bustling, there is laughter and crowds and a swarm of pixies seem to have taken home in my belly. Diagon Alley hasn’t sounded like this in years and as I step out into the open I breathe… no, I really breathe. I can’t remember the last time my lungs felt so full and I laugh at the sensation. Suddenly, like a thunderclap I hunch over, clawing at my scalp as painful visions rip themselves into the front of my vision. It’s scene after scene and the pain reminds me of when Bella would perform Legillemns on me, stabbing into my consciousness and forcing my mind to go places I didn’t know it was capable of. 
Shaking hands with Granger and leaving the store with my father. He kneels before me and I barely recognize him as he studies my face.
 
“Things will be different from now on.”
 
“Father?”
 
“It will be.”
  Then I almost fall over from shock as he hugs me. He actually hugs me. In public. An act saved for birthdays and Christmas morning.  The scenes that follow are jumbled and it’s hard to make sense of them as I see myself on the boat with Granger leading up to Hogwarts for the first time. I’m sorted, still into Slytherin but Granger smiles at me encouragingly as she takes her seat at the table with the other Gryffindors. Even through the excruciating pain, I can’t help but smile at the memories. We’re friends . I also tend to hang out with a Ravenclaw bloke and on occasion, am friendly with Potter… Weasley’s a bit harder. He’s always been slow to let go of grudges and it’s nearly impossible to prove to him I’m not what he considers a typical Slytherin. As the memories tick by, there is no war. No trolls in the dungeon, no basilisk slithering through the halls. My father is  photographed for the Prophet, but for once - it’s not bad. He’s found Peter Pettigrew and turned him into the authorities, he even helps in the release of Sirius Black and Potter is reunited with his Godfather. The TriWizard Tournament rages on and Cedric Diggory is named the winner. Umbridge never stalks the halls of the castle  and I don’t waste away in my sixth year. Granger still goes on a date with McLaggen and I listen on the walk back to the castle as she swears off boys until her education is done. We pass our N.E.W.Ts. We fucking graduate - an act I didn’t think was possible and I accept a job at the Ministry, pushing paper and living a completely normal life. The pain lifts as quickly as it descends and I am back on Diagon Alley, a cold sweat along my brow and I’m having trouble with my vision. I hear a worried voice echo in my ear and I think I can feel hands on my back. “DRACO! Someone please, call a healer! Draco, can you hear me?” The large black spots are clearing from my vision and I blink them away to find Granger’s face etched with worry just inches from my own. I ghost a laugh and take her hands in mine. “Granger? You’re alive? Am-am I dreaming?” “Draco Malfoy, you are really scaring me now. I’m taking you to the hospital!” She stands and tugs on my arm. There are hordes of people crowding us and I feel anxious being so exposed. “I don’t need to go to St. Mungos.” I shake my head at her. “Can we just leave? I can’t stand all these people watching.” She stares warily at me, her fingers wrapped around my elbow and I can tell she doesn’t agree with me. I don’t care much though, because her touch is setting my skin on fire in all the best ways. “I’m taking you - don’t look at me like that,” she chastises me. “You’d make me go too! If nothing is wrong, we will be out in an hour.” I feel the tug of her magic as we whirl through the air, our bodies swirling around each other and if I didn’t feel so nauseous from the surprise sidealong, I might take a moment to enjoy it. -------------------------- I’m resting on the bed, my head still tender from the assault of memories. Granger is reading in the chair next to me, her legs curled up under her like she always did in the library and I have to physically force myself not to stare at her. Curls are escaping wildly from her messy knot and her white oxford is casually unbuttoned as she plays with the collar. She’s chewing on her lip as her eyes flit over the text, she’s bouncing her foot absently. “Granger —” I start with a shaky voice and she raises her eyebrows, offering a hmm , but not taking her eyes off her book. “Are you seeing anyone?” I gulp. She freezes and looks up at me with giant, confused eyes. “What do you mean?”  What do I mean? Am I seeing her? Does she have a boyfriend? Why can’t I catalog the memories more clearly…?  I can recall some things and others are still ghosting around the edge of my mind. Like someone shoved everything in a glass jar and shook it up, I can’t organize the material properly in its current state. “I’m thinking maybe my short term memory might be failing me. I can’t seem to recall the most simple of things.” I’m almost panting… I don’t know if I should tell her. Just come clean about all of it, about how I changed her life. I don’t have a guess how she might take it and I desperately just want to be near her for a while longer. “Oh,” she breathes and tucks a curl behind her ear. “Well, you know… after Cormac and that disastrous attempt with Ron Weasley —” She’s silenced by the door opening and we both jump a little from the break in the tension. I pale as I watch Albus Dumbledore stroll in casually, snacking on a chocolate frog he must have grabbed from the trolley on his way in. “You’re alive?” I stammer and my fingers clench in the sheets. My heart is hammering so loudly against my chest that I’m sure they can hear it. I see his eyes twinkle knowingly behind his half-moon spectacles and I can’t believe he’s really here. “Why do you keep asking people that?” Granger gives me a disapproving glare, peering at me from the corners of her eyes. “Sorry, Headmaster - Draco seems a bit out of his head today. I didn’t know you were stopping by.” “Ah, yes. I was informed that Mister Malfoy was a patient from a dear friend and felt called to make an appearance at his bedside. How are you feeling, Mister Malfoy?” His voice hasn’t changed, it’s still rich and aged and his eyes seem to be seeing straight through me. “I’m… confused,” I confess. “Miss Granger, might you run and get the Healer for me?” “Of course, Professor.” She nods and with one last concerned look for me, she rushes from the room. I still can’t help the feeling washing over me that I’m staring at a ghost. “How are you adjusting, Mister Malfoy?” He peers at me through the bottom of his glasses. “F-fine. Yes, fine I think.” I have no idea how much I should share with him. “You should tell her, I think. Sooner rather than later. She’ll understand; she’ll be grateful.” He nods to himself and I blanch. He knows. “H-how?” I stutter. “Oh, I have my ways.” He turns and his cloaks billow softly around him. “The simplest way of knowing, was that your Father told me.” He throws me a sly wink over his shoulder. “There are as many prophecies as there are seers, Mister Malfoy. Each one seeing a possible outcome with numerous variables along the way. Streams break off from the river and change the course of nature around them.” “Sir?” “You are a stream that changed the course of history. A stream I had very much hoped would come to head. After speaking with your father, I think I have a general idea of what happened.” He knows. “I don’t understand...” My mind feels bruised and exposed. He chuckles. “I would imagine so, that is why I would take advantage of your ‘new’ friendship with Miss Granger. She will be invaluable to you as you navigate the coming months.” He pauses to chew on a thought and finally offers it to me. “Indulge me,” he says with a conspiring smile, “in your alternate reality - what does the world like?” I’m quiet for a moment as I think about this world they will never have to know. “Death. Endless death. The streets are bare and the shops torn to shreds, broken glass and rubble is everywhere. No one is untouched by Him . It’s a nightmare,” I reply bleakly. He gives me a solemn nod. “Our world will forever be in debt to you.” What an idea. That in this strange reality, I am the Chosen One who saved the world. I didn’t do it with quite the same Gryffindor-esque brazenness and I might have taken a little while longer to achieve the end… but I did it all the same and with far fewer casualties. He turns towards the door and I can’t take my eyes off of him. “I’ll speak to the Healer about your condition. I won’t fill him in on many details other than you are suffering from the affects of the Time Turner. And to answer your question —” I quirk my eyebrows up at him, unable to remember a question “— she’s not seeing anyone.” He throws me a sly wink and the corners of his lips curl up. Dumbledore disappears from the room and I gape at the spot he’s just vacated. It’s not long before Granger is meandering back into the room, this time with a Prophet tucked under her arm and sipping from a steaming paper cup. “How’re you feeling?” She swallows her drink and smiles at me. “Can I take you out to dinner?” The words fall past my lips before I can even think them. Words I never dreamed I would get to say to her. “When? I don’t want to go back to the Thai place again… and if we do, you are paying. I can’t stomach that awful rendition of Pad Thai no matter how much you claim you like it.” She rolls her eyes and moves further into the room. “No.” I shake my head. “Can I take you on a date?” She freezes mid step and I can’t help but smirk at her and her utter shock. “A date?” I nod. “With me?” “No, Granger. With Weasel, I’m just practicing on you to get the nerves out.” I give her a narrowed glare and I hope that’s still who I am. I hope I’m still me . “You prat.” She sneers playfully back. “You always have to have some witty comeback don’t you. Can’t ever just have a normal conversation, always with the banter —” “Granger!” I snap, bringing her back. “Oh, um… well...” She’s nervous and stuttering. My stomach plummets. I might have saved Hermione Granger from death but nothing will change the fact that she’s out of my league. “It’s fine.” I swallow. It will be fine, at least she’s breathing. “No! It’s just… I’d kind of given up hope you were going to ask. After this many years…” I shoot up straight in my bed. “You wanted me to ask you out?” What an impossible notion. She must have hit her pretty little head on something. “Well, it should be quite obvious,” she huffs. “It’s not like I’ve been dating around, I drop enough hints and we spend nearly every free hour together. I figured you just weren’t interested.” I laugh at her. I mean, I really laugh. The ones that start deep in your belly and don’t stop until you’re cramping from the sheer velocity of them. She glares at me and I think she might throw something at me, I’m hoping it’s the newspaper and not the tea. “‘I’m sorry!” I manage between laughs.“That’s just... the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. If you knew...if you everything I’ve done to ask you out…” My laughter dies out and I’m left nearly breathless. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, Granger.” She studies me like a book she hasn’t seen before and chews on the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Tell me at dinner… on our date .” She’s teasing me but I can see the blush staining her cheeks. “Free tonight?” She rolls her eyes. “Maybe. I’ll check my calendar, Malfoy.” As she curls up in the chair next to mine, I can’t believe my good luck. Can’t believe any of it. 
Maybe.
 I can work with a maybe. I hear Trelawney’s batty voice in my ear. “ But, that won’t be the end. She’ll love you too. In another life.”