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Chapter Text

Chapter One: Drink Deep & Descend

"Dear Miss Granger, On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, we would like to offer the Malfoy Manor Estate as not only reparations for the personal toll the war has had on you and your family, but as a thank you for your efforts saving the wizarding world from certain ruin. Please find attached a copy of the deed and title. Yours Sincerely, Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Hermione looked nervously up from the letter she clutched in her hand and whispered "Oh my," as her eyes travelled up the stone path, to the foreboding manor before her.

The gates of Malfoy Manor creaked open in recognition of their new owner. Hermione swallowed and made her way down the path, her suitcase and Crookshanks trailing closely behind.

She stood in the foyer and stared in awe at the magnificent crystal chandelier directly above her. The portraits looked down at her and Crookshanks with disdain, though they didn't dare utter a word.

Quietly she tread across the gleaming marble tiles and made her way up a spiral staircase, all the while looking around in awe at the lavishly decorated manor. Everything untouched and in place.

She alighted at the first landing and wandered down the wide hall, the eyes of portraits followed her in silent disapproval.

As she passed an archway, a flash of something silver caught her eye, she turned and gasped when she saw what- who, rather, it was.

The spectral form of Draco Malfoy glowered at her from across the room, his elbow resting on the mantle of a fireplace. "Granger." He said. "What do you think you're doing here?"

In complete shock she uttered "Malfoy, you're a- a ghost."

He pushed off from the mantle, his steps made no sound as he crossed the carpet to stand over her. "Way to point out the obvious, Granger." He said icily. "You have no business being here. This is my father's residence."

His eyes lingered briefly on hers, before he twisted away. "Leave." He demanded, his back to her.

"Please Malfoy." Hermione said, the smallness of her voice amplified by the vast, empty room. "I have nowhere else to go."

Malfoy spun to face her. "That's hardly my concern." He sneered.

Finding her courage, she met his combative glare with a mutinous one of her own.

"Well you can't make me leave." She said defiantly, realising he was in fact a ghost and therefore couldn't lay a finger on her.

"We'll see about that." Malfoy hissed through gritted teeth.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: There was a Fish in the Percolator!

The clock struck 3:01AM and Hermione was jolted awake at the sound of a wretched wailing. She scrubbed at her bleary eyes and turned to find Malfoy stretched out across her bedspread, singing at the top of his lungs.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please!” He bellowed.

She gaped at him in astonished confusion before her tired brain caught up and realised he’d begun employing dirty tactics to drive her from the manor.

She pushed the covers back, glaring at him furiously as he continued to sing.

“Whether we be old and bald, Or young with scabby knees.”

He favoured singing loudly over being in tune and she pulled a pillow over her ears in desperation.

“Oh my god.” She hissed. His grin grew wider as he drank in her frustration.

“Our heads could do with filling, With some interesting stuff, For now they’re bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff.”

She bolted out of the room in a huff, furious that she had no recourse to stop him.

(~'o')~

Finding a quiet nook in the manor, far away from Malfoy’s singing, she procured a cup of hot tea, deciding to commit to being awake at this early hour. She breathed deep into the warm tea while she waited for it to cool, mulling over spells that might work on ghosts. She thought back to how Nearly-Headless Nick had been petrified by the basilisk’s reflection in second year and smiled at the thought of Malfoy in such a state.

She closed her eyes to take a sip of tea and felt something scuttle across her hand. Her eyes flew open to see her tea had been transformed into a cup of writhing spiders. The cup fell from her hands, and shattered across the floor.

In an attempt to rid the crawling sensation on her skin, she slid into the shower and let the hot water wash over her. Just as she felt herself relaxing, the water turned to ice. Giant balls of snow erupted from the shower head, and crashed into her, the change in temperature was like needles on her skin.

Hermione scurried from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, muttering unforgivables under her breath. She kicked open the nearest door to find Malfoy sitting innocently in a large wingback chair, seemingly engrossed in a book propped on the table.

“Throw whatever you’ve got at me, I’m not leaving!” She said, her voice trembled with unrestrained fury.

Without looking up from his book, Malfoy replied. “We’ll see Granger. Now be a dear would you and turn this page for me?”

Hermione grit her teeth and huffed out of the room. She felt his eyes follow her out.

That night she slid into bed next to Crookshanks, having avoided Malfoy around the manor for the remainder of the day. She propped open a book and began to read. After a short while she cast a weary eye at her cat.

“Maybe he’s finally given up?” She’d barely uttered such a hopeful question before loud music cut through the air. She slammed her book shut; her shortened fuse allowed her anger to spark into unadulterated rage with little resistance.

She pulled her dressing gown from the back of the door, and she thundered down the hallway in the direction of the music.

“That’s it Malfoy!!” She yelled, her slippers slapped against the tile as she threaded her arm through the gown. “If you weren’t already dead, I swear to Godric I’d-”

She pushed open the heavy oak doors to the ballroom, her threats fell away from her. The room was full of ghostly spectres, drifting across the floor. Moonlight shone through the windows casting the room in a supernatural glow.

Malfoy appeared beside her, his arms folded confidently across his chest, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“I’ve had Chauncey organise festivities for an exclusive soirée for all the ghosts in my network.” He said, nodding to the little house elf that had appeared in tow, and was now desperately offering Hermione refreshments. “-And there’s nothing you can do about it! You’ll just have to-”

But Hermione wasn’t listening to him, she was staring at one of the ghosts she’d spied across the dance floor.

“Oh my.” She muttered. “Is that Ghost Shakespeare?” She asked, but she was already walking away from him, cutting a path through the excitable spirits.

“Wait-” Malfoy called after her, but she ignored him.

He watched on sourly as she approached Shakespeare and they talked enthusiastically.

“Well… She wasn’t supposed to enjoy herself.” He scoffed at the house elf who watched him attentively. “Go Away.” He muttered, feeling suddenly foolish.

The elf disappeared with a pop and his eyes drifted back to Granger. Slowly a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he raised a hand to hide his amusement at being outmatched, less she realise herself that she’d bested him.

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Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Lonely Souls

Hermione stood over her cauldron and carefully poured a vial of dragon blood into the solution, while making clockwise motions with her mixing rod.

"What are you doing?" Came Draco Malfoy's voice right beside her. She jolted at seeing him emerge from the countertop she was brewing on.

"You mustn't sneak up on me like that!" She said, adjusting her goggles and turning back to the potion. "I almost dropped my vial of dragon blood! It's highly corrosive."

"Fine." Draco scoffed and narrowed his eyes. "Don't go getting your wand in a knot over it."

He drifted closer to her and hovered over the cauldron.

"Well? What is it?" He said looking down his nose at her potion.

Hermione exhaled through her nose and looked askance at him. "You'll just tease me." She said.

"But I do it so well." Draco drawled. Registering her blank expression he let out a petulant sigh. "Oh, go on Granger. If it really matters so much- I promise not to poke fun." He said with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Hermione looked down into her cauldron and slowly stirred as she contemplated what to tell him.

"Well." She began. "Since the war, everything's been so grey. People don't laugh anymore, there's no one out on the streets, business are boarded up." She thought of the vacant and overgrown playgrounds- Flourish and Blotts closing its doors. "We're all just tucked away like we're expecting the dark lord to come back some how." She paused and rested the mixing rod against the edge of the cauldron. "So I started developing a potion that- I'm hoping- will bring a bit more colour to people's lives. I want to help everyone move forwards- not to forget as such, but help them to remember why we fought so hard for what we have."

"What? Are you competing for Saint-hood with Potter, now?" Draco sneered.

"You swore you wouldn't make fun!" Hermione turned to him angrily.

His shoulders dropped and he averted his eyes.

"I'm not making fun, it's all just... So very Golden Girl of you. I thought You'd be finished with your do-gooder-saving-everyone-complex."

"It's not a complex." Hermione replied. "You don't have to be a Saint to want to do the right thing... I thought you would understand that." She said giving him an evaluating glance.

"Yes well." Draco sighed and he seemed to soften slightly. "It doesn't really matter much to me now. I'm afraid I'm stuck in my ways. Permanently."

"But Malfoy- Don't you remember-"

"Don't." Draco cut Hermione off sharply and brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if pained. "It's dreary enough in here. I don't need to be reminded of all the mistakes I made when I was alive." He said.

His hand dropped away and he straightened to face her.

"Look, suppose I let you stay-"

"Let me?" Hermione interjected.

Draco continued as if she'd not spoken. "What do I get out of this whole arrangement? It's not like I'm going to be able to take this miracle potion, am I?"

"Right..." Hermione agreed slowly. She had to say something convincing so she could get a moment of peace in this house.

At that ideal moment, Crookshanks leapt up onto the countertop, passing right through Draco's chest.

"Company, I suppose." Hermione replied, trying to stifle a laugh.

Draco looked aghast at the furry menace.

"Perish the thought." He muttered as he recovered from the indignity. He turned on his heel. "I guess you can stay- so long as you leave before father returns. He will be most displeased to find you trifling with his things."

Hermione lifted her goggles and watched his retreating back as he approached the nearest wall. "Later, Granger." he muttered, and passed through the stone surface.

She blinked slowly and cast her eyes down at her hands.

"How do I tell him crooks?" She asked the entirely disinterested cat.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Lifted Spirits

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“Just a few more.” Hermione muttered, reaching for another book to add to the lofty stack she already struggled to carry.
“Trust me, Granger. The books aren’t going anywhere.” Draco said from where he was stretched out lazily in the bay window behind her.
Showing her the manor’s library had gone exactly as he’d anticipated, but he enjoyed the spectacle nonetheless.

He had begun joining Hermione for reading breaks in the library in the early afternoons. When she needed time away from her research to let her brain wander the pages, they both found themselves huddled over a book together. It had become something of a 3pm ritual during the long weeks of potion trial and error.
Hermione, of course, read at a faster pace than Draco. Her fingers would dance impatiently over the corner of the page when she finished, urging him to hurry up. She couldn’t help but show off a little- and knew it irked him that he could never outpace her.
“So impatient.” He said through a light chuckle and shake of his head, his eyes raced over the last paragraph as she slowly lifted the page with a coy smile.

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Having wandered back into the ballroom with Malfoy and Crookshanks trailing closely behind her, Hermione looked around the room in awe. The warm autumn sun bathed the room in gold.
“It was so beautiful here, with all the ghosts.” She said coming to a stop under the glittering chandelier in the centre of the dance floor. “I can only imagine what it must have been like, all lit up for lavish balls and parties and all full of, well, living guests… I would’ve loved to see it.”
Malfoy sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Father wasn’t one for entertaining guests.” He said.

“Oh? What about your mother?” Hermione asked.
“Unfortunately she died when I was very young… though I’ve heard tale of how sought after invitations were to her famous New Year’s Eve parties. Father never did host another one after she passed.”
Malfoy kept his eyes averted as she watched him.
“I’m sorry, Malfoy.” She said quietly, before they drifted out of the ballroom together.

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Hermione and Draco stood before the entrance to the hedge-maze on the manor’s expansive grounds.
Draco had promised Hermione a tour late that afternoon. As they wandered through the maze he reminisced about his childhood.
“I got lost in the hedge-maze when I was just a boy.” He said as they turned another corner in the endless topiary labyrinth. “Father couldn’t find me due to the anti-apparition wards.”
Hermione was heartened to see a rare smile from him. She reached forward to brush her fingers lightly along the dense leaves of the maze, feeling the wards vibrate under her touch.
“This magic is quite impressive.” She muttered, turning back to Draco who watched her with intrigue.
“How long did it take you to find your way out?” She asked.
“Oh, almost a full day.” Draco said as he took a slow step backward. His grin widened into something more sinister as he folded his arms over his chest. His edges had begun to blur.
Hermione watched, confused. “What are you-“ she began, but caught on halfway through her sentence. “Wait!” She yelled, realising she’d been deceived.
Malfoy let out a low chuckle as he continued to fade away. “Watch out for the chimera.” He said as he vanished completely with an infuriating wave of his hand.
Hermione spun in place. He’d left her in the middle of the maze with Schrödinger’s chimera and no idea how to get out.
Furious, she clenched her fists and raised her head to the already darkening sky “Malfoy!” She yelled at the top of her lungs.

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Draco had already rolled his eyes at reality TV, game shows and even muggle sports- though Hermione wasn’t able to explain the rules of football to him, or how the penalties worked, so he didn’t have much of a chance with that.
As she flipped through the channels she came across an American fantasy drama called ‘Charmed’ that she thought he’d find amusing.
“Huh.” He said five minutes into the show. The three leading witches had just overcome a petty internal squabble. “So this is what muggles think witches are like, then?”
Hermione smiled and nodded, glad to have found something that held his attention.
There was another confrontation and the head witch, as Draco described her, was shouting obscenities.
A smug smile crept across his face. “I see the muggles have correctly captured your brutish sensibilities.” He drawled observing the witches arguing on screen.
Hermione scowled and tossed a pillow across the couch at him, which passed right through him. Draco shot her a look that suggested his observation was correct.
Critiquing the inaccuracies of how magic worked in the show Charmed became part of their nightly repertoire.

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Hermione thundered down the hallway, vacuum cleaner in tow. “Malfoy!” She shrieked. “If you turn my tea into spiders one more time…” Her threat trailed off as she scanned the drawing room for any sign of his shimmering spectral form. She continued her hunt in the direction of the kitchens. Draco shot Crookshants an apologetic grimace from their shared hiding place behind the staircase bannister.

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On their way to the library, Hermione halted in front of a locked door that had pulled her curiosity.
“Where does this door go?” She asked.
Draco stiffened slightly before answering. “The dungeons… you mustn’t go down there. It’s not safe.” He said, fixing her with one of his more serious expressions.
Hermione scoffed. “Oh? Worried about me now?” She asked with a coquettish shrug of her shoulder.
Draco’s cheeks flushed silver. “Hardly.” He said. “I just wanted to spare Chauncey the distress of losing another beloved family member.”
“How very thoughtful of you.” Hermione said over her shoulder as she continued in the direction of the library with a jaunty bounce to her step.
Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and glowered after her. Then ruefully he followed, not wanting to miss the next chapter of their book.

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“Boo!” Hermione shouted, jumping out from behind the sofa. She was completely hidden under a white sheet apart from the holes she’d cut for her eyes. Draco folded his arms and gave her an imperious look.
“I’m dressed as you!” she said waving her arms, in what Draco perceived, was an offensive manner.
“The implication wasn’t lost on me.” He drawled looking down his nose at her.
The bunting above them read ‘Happy Halloween.’ Hermione had decided to get in the spirit of Samhain, much to Draco and Crooks’ displeasure.

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Hermione and Draco stared in surprise at the meal that had appeared before them on the dining table that evening.
Hermione brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes widened in dismay as she took in the dish.
“I certainly can’t say I miss Chauncey’s cooking.” Draco drawled, unable to suppress a grin.
“What is it?” Hermione spoke through her hand in a small voice.
“Miss!” Chauncey announced after a crack of apparition. “Chauncey brings dessert!!” The little elf plopped a grotesque, slimy pile, of what Hermione could only determine was ‘magical beast offcuts’ alongside the three legged thing on the table.
Horrified, she knelt down and placed a hand on Chauncey’s bony shoulder.
“Chauncey… you’re a free elf now. I really don’t expect you to do any work for me.” She said, hoping Chauncey would take this on board.
Chauncey merely blinked. “It is a great honour for Chauncey to make miss her favourite meals while she works to restore joy to wizarding kind!” The elf squeaked and turned to leave the room. “Miss should not feel embarrassed of her food preferences!” He said.
Hermione was sure she saw Draco wink at the elf as he left.
Now sat back at the table she glared at him over the pile of trembling innards.
“Embarrassed of my food preferences?” She said with an arched brow.
“You’ve such extravagant tastes, Granger.” Draco said, the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him.
“I can’t imagine where Chauncey got that idea.” She sighed.

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Hermione was enticed onto the manor grounds by a rare ray of November sun. The tail end of Autumn had the grounds awash in hues of crimson and burnt umber. She shivered as a cold chill ran through her, and regretted coming outside without a coat. She spied Draco standing in a patch of sun, observing a small gazebo set within some neat shrubs.

She approached him and stood quietly by his side, admiring the garden.

"Father charmed these Narcissus to bloom all year round in mother's memory." He said, nodding toward the blooming daffodils. “She passed before I could keep any memories of her myself. Father told me this was one of the places she spent a lot of time before she died. This is where I feel the strongest connection to her. I used to sit here for days while father toiled on his projects... I never saw her as a ghost how you see me, though father claimed that he had. Sometimes I swear I can hear her.”

Hermione bit her tongue, not wanting to broach the topic of Lucius Malfoy. Not just yet.

She offered him a warm smile, unsure of what to say. He nodded and returned her smile, though his eyes remained sad.

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Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Three's a Crowd

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From a window on the second story landing, Draco watched as Hermione greeted a familiar pair of guests at the manor gates. Dark clouds roiled overhead, threatening a downpour. Draco felt much the same.
The portraits glowered as they entered the manor.
“What’s your problem, ponce?” Ron Weasley glowered back at the portrait, as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“Hermione!” Harry greeted his friend excitedly. “We have amazing news!” He said, as Hermione gestured for them to continue through to the hall to the sitting room.

“Yeah!” Ron added. “We passed the field exam! We start as Junior Aurors next week!”

“That’s incredible news!” Hermione said, pulling them both into a tight hug. “Oh, I’m so proud of you both!” She said, her voice muffled from their jumpers.

Harry and Ron took a seat on a settee as Hermione continued on into the kitchen to fetch tea. They each looked around the stuffy room with trepidation. “This place gives me the creeps.” Ron said as he scratched anxiously at the back of his neck.

“OOOOoooooooo.” A loud wail echoed through the room causing them both to start. Harry pulled out his wand and peered around, looking for the source of the noise.

“What was that?” Ron said, as he glanced nervously at his friend. Harry didn’t respond as he continued to scan their surroundings. He felt a sharp pull on his shirt front.
“H-harry.” Ron’s voice trembled. “Look!”
Harry turned and gasped. “Merlin’s tits!” He exclaimed, jumping to his feet with Ron still hanging off him.
“s-s-s-SPIDERS!” Ron squeaked, as thick ropes of spiders unspooled from every crevice. There was a slight groan, seemingly from the walls, and the spiders multiplied rapidly, scuttling towards them at a terrifying pace.

Harry and Ron sprung over the top of the settee, having felt like they’d dealt with their fair share of spiders in their lifetime already.
As they ran towards the manor gates, Harry turned to Ron. “What about Hermione?” He said.

“She’s a clever witch!” Ron replied, his pace not slowing. “She can take care of herself!”

And with that, they were gone.

Hermione wandered back into the sitting room, now clear of spiders, with a tea tray held aloft. Looking down at it she mused aloud. “I’m excited to try this tea set, it’s so shiny I doubt it’s ever been-” She halted mid sentence as she raised her eyes to see the spectre of Draco Malfoy sat on the settee before her, her friends nowhere in sight. “-Used…” She finished, and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Sorry Granger.” Draco said. “I’m afraid tea goes right through me these days.”

Hermione clenched a fist at her side. “What did you do?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“Over my dead body are Potter and Weasley taking tea at the manor.” He said, folding his arms defiantly over his chest like the petulant school boy from her childhood.

“That was precisely my thinking.” Hermione clipped as she turned in a huff and strode out of the room.

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Draco and Crookshanks were stretched out over the duvet while Hermione got ready for bed.

“You really mustn’t scare Harry and Ron like that.” She said perching on the edge of the bed while removing her bobby pins. “They’ve been through a lot and they’re still quite sensitive.”
Draco raised a brow in response.

“Though…” Hermione continued. “Ron’s shrieking was rather nostalgic, actually.”

She brushed her fingers through her hair, scouring for any wayward hairpins before turning to face Draco.
“Malfoy… Can I ask you something.” She said in a soft inquisitive voice.
“I suspect you’re going to.” Draco said, pushing up from his elbows to a sitting position.
“Can I touch you?” Hermione asked in a voice just above a whisper.

Draco’s brow arched to meet his hairline, a lascivious grin spread across his face. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” He purred.

Hermione flushed scarlet. “Not like that!” She gasped, her brows furrowing. “Look- nevermind. I was just curious.”

Draco raised, what Hermione thought, was a placating hand, then he said. “Go on, Granger.” His hand remained outstretched, his face unreadable. “Before I change my mind.”
Slowly, Hermione raised her own hand to meet his. Though she knew that logically it would happen this way, she was still surprised to see her fingertips pass through his, touching air when she thought that perhaps she might feel him. “Oh.” She breathed, as she continued to move her palm through his. “You’re so cold.” She said, noticing how the temperature dropped several degrees while their hands intertwined.

Draco pulled away first, staring down at his own hand in silent disbelief, as if he too, were expecting to feel the connection that had been quietly creeping between them these past few weeks.

“Yes, well.” He said through a sharp exhale. “I don’t feel anything.” And he stood, striding several paces before Hermione asked him where he was going. He turned back to her and shrugged.

“Thought I might go haunt the west wing… perhaps rattle some chains and groan ominously-”

“Stay.” Hermione interrupted, her eyes widened as though she hadn’t meant to say it aloud. She looked down at the duvet and ran a finger over the embroidery. “That is, if you don’t mind. I’m still not used to how quiet it is out here and I’ve grown quite used to you hovering around.”

Draco folded his arms over his chest. “Hovering?” He said with a derisive edge to his voice.

Hermione patted the bedspread and Draco drifted slowly back to her.
“Alright Granger.” He said, taking up the spare pillow. He looked at her sideways through his lashes. “But if there’s a hint of snoring, I’m outta here.”

Hermione huffed and he tilted his head to face her.

“The afterlife has done nothing for your manners, you know?” She said softly, her eyelids already heavy. Draco offered her a small smile as her eyes slowly drifted closed.

After a few beats he rolled over to face her. Watching as her breaths grew slower as she fell into a deeper sleep.

His chest fluttered briefly and he cursed the absurdity of being plunged into such a state of liminality, still with the capacity to feel.
He examined her features, now relaxed in sleep. She was rather pretty when her face wasn’t pulled into a scowl or a snarl; the light freckles scattered over her skin that he was sure were soft. Her dark lashes outlined against her cheek. The delicate point to her chin and the cascade of curls splayed over the pillow.

Slowly, he reached out his hand to cover hers. He hesitated a moment in case the change in temperature caused her to stir, he whispered. “Can I keep you?”

Though he knew he ought not to hope, he did so anyway.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: A Spirit Tempered to Endure.

Hermione held a vial of dragon blood over the cauldron, the concoction within having been left to cool before adding the final ingredient. This method had yet to work, but after much trial and error she hoped, after adjusting the volumes, that it would finally procure promising results. She tilted the vial and allowed a drop of the viscous liquid to fall into the solution.

Before she had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, the potion erupted from the cauldron, directly into her face.

“Time for a break, I think.” She muttered, pushing her now potion covered goggles atop her head.

She shrugged out of her lab things and procured a face towel, wiping away the last of the grime as she marched down the hall towards the library. There had to be something she was doing wrong for the potion to continue to backfire like this.

Her eye caught the heavy bolted door Draco had warned her about and she halted abruptly. She remembered him saying it wasn’t safe down there and this suddenly struck her as odd. She made her way over to the door, thoughts of investigating the potion evaporating.

“Dangerous my eye.” She said, pulling her wand from her pocket. “Alohomora,” she muttered. The door clicked in response and the heavy bolt slid open.

She pulled open the door and made her way down a narrow staircase. As she descended, the light from the hallway grew faint. “Lumos.” She whispered, lighting the rest of the way down, while also revealing a large machine, partially hidden under tarps.

“What on earth?” She muttered to herself as she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

She approached the machine with caution and stopped before a small bottle that was embedded in the side of the machine. There was a dusty placard beneath it. With her wand still held aloft, she reached out a hand to wipe away the grime.

“The Lazarus.” She read, as the name was revealed. Confused, she reached for the vial of potion, pulling it from its nook to examine closer.

The thick black liquid inside was about as opaque as licorice. Three luminescent globs floated languidly within the substance, resembling a sort of gothic lava lamp that wouldn’t be out of place in Borgin and Burkes. She had never seen this potion brewed before, and stared at it in silent reverie, her mind whirring. Surely it couldn’t be?

“Granger.” A voice hissed, directly behind her.

She jolted so violently at the sudden interruption of her thoughts, that the potion slipped from her grasp. She lunged at it and spun around to hold it directly in the face of Draco Malfoy, who was already frowning at her.

“Malfoy!” She gasped in surprise, as his eyes narrowed.

“I told you not to come down here.” He said, in a carefully tempered tone.

“And I told you not to sneak up on me like that.” She retorted, her heart still hammering in her chest. Her gaze fell away from his as she observed the potion before her. Her excitement gave way to doubt at the impossibility of finding such a thing. “Malfoy… is this-” she hesitated, and raised her head again to meet his eye. “An Ambrosia Elixir?” She asked, clutching the bottle to her chest.

Draco’s shoulders dropped. “More like an instant primordial soup mix.” He said, exuding bitterness. His avoidance at answering her question was as good a confirmation as any.

“I can’t believe it’s been here the whole time!?” She gasped, and turned from him, as if he could snatch the bottle away. Her eyes widened as avenues that had previously been blocked off, seemed to open up before her.

“Granger.”

I mean… this could bring you back-”

“Granger.”

“- A life restoration potion! Right here in the dungeons and you didn’t tell me.”

“It. Doesn’t. Work.” Draco bit out each word, as though he was restraining himself from shouting them.

Hermione looked up at him through wide, curious eyes. He looked back at her defiantly, his arms tightly folded over his chest.

“It doesn’t?” she asked, her voice shrinking.

“No.” Draco replied. Noticing her disappointment, he softened slightly. “It was never finished.”

She blinked and held the bottle closer to her face.

“An incomplete potion.” She murmured. “I’ve faced greater challenges.”

✦•······················(~'o')~······················•✦

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: A Twist of Fate

Hermione turned to scan the paperwork spread out over Lucius’ workbench. Her eyes darted over his writing, the trial and error of his potion making all carefully recorded.

“Just look at all this research, Malfoy, it’s almost complete!” She said, placing the bottle of Ambrosia down carefully beside the sprawling notes. “I mean, this is just incredible,” she said, picking up a piece of parchment to examine the research closer. “An Ambrosia Elixir! I didn’t think it was possible.”

She looked up to exchange an excited look with Draco, but found he had wandered off to take up a seat on the staircase. His eyes were downcast, his forearms slumped over his knees.

“Malfoy?” She asked softly.

“I didn’t want you to find all this.” He said, monotone and unmoving.

Hermione took a few steps towards him. “...Your father’s project?” She asked, taking a seat on the staircase alongside him. “He was trying to bring your mother back, wasn’t he?”

“When he wasn’t murdering people for Voldemort… yes.” Draco sighed.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.” Hermione replied, shaking her head.

Draco scowled. “Because I knew you would go ‘full Granger’ on it. Father’s obviously abandoned it ‘cos it’s a piece of junk.” He said.

“But I can try-”

“I don’t want you to waste your time on this… on me.” Draco said, pointing away from her.

“Waste my time?” Hermione repeated slowly. “Malfoy-”

“Father spent my entire childhood down here, and for what? It’s useless.” Draco snapped, throwing a hand flippantly towards the hulking machine, before folding his arms tightly over his chest. “He was so preoccupied with the past, that he couldn’t see the life he had in front of him. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you- you’re already working on a potion that is actually important. You’ll change people’s lives.”

Hermione felt irritation ignite in her chest. “How is this not important too, Malfoy?” She argued, “I could bring you back, you could have another chance! Lucius’ notes are so meticulous, I don’t think it would take me very long to pick up where he left off-”

“How do you not get this?” Draco said bluntly. “I don’t deserve it, Granger. This is my due for all the wrongs I did when I was alive.”

He twisted around to look her in the eye, to give her one of his patented withering stares, but she held his gaze with a wretched earnestness that he couldn't combat.

“But you don’t remember-” she began.

“Don’t.” Draco said sharply.

“How you died-” she persisted.

“Granger. Stop.”

“But Malfoy!”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.” He let out a long, suffering sigh. “Please, Granger.” He said, turning away from her, so he didn’t have to look into her wide, imploring eyes. “I know I was on the wrong side of the war- I do not care to hear a morbid list of my personal failings that led to this twisted purgatory… just leave me alone.” He said, feeling her body stiffen beside him.

Then suddenly, she was on her feet, her fists balled at her sides, her face contorted into a snarl. “GODS!!” she cried, “you’re more insufferable now, than you were in life! If you would just listen-”

Draco stood sharply, his anger rising to match hers. He tugged up his sleeve and thrust his exposed arm towards her; the twisted black ink in stark contrast against his ethereal glow.

“I hardly need to listen when I can see it for myself!” he said, the tremble in his voice betraying him. “Why would I have carried this into the afterlife if not to remind me why I’m here?”

Hermione gaped at the Dark Mark tattoo on his forearm, her fists remained balled, though her composure had softened slightly.

With her eyes now tightly closed, she raised her wand to meet her eye level. “If you won’t let me tell you…” She said as a thin bright strand of light, Draco recognised to be a memory, curled slowly from her temple and down her wand. “I’m going to show you,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Requiem for the Half-Brained Do-Gooders

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Are you sure?” Hermione said, looking up at Draco from the pensieve. Her grip was tight on the test tube containing the memory of the night Draco died.

Draco smirked. “Trying to back out already?” He said, arching a brow.

She turned back to the basin and gently poured her memory into the silvery liquid. As the contents began to swirl she caught sight of Crookshanks peering over her shoulder and before she could do anything, they were all pulled from the cool dark dungeons into a swirling cacophony of noise and light.

“Oh! Crookshanks!” Hermione gasped as she, Draco and the cat swirled through disjointed fragments of Hermione’s memories.

“Blasted menace.” Draco sighed.

When their feet connected with gravel, Hermione managed to catch Crookshanks in her arms with a soft ‘oof,’ and held him tightly to her chest. She breathed in his sun warmed hay smell as their surrounds slowly came into focus to reveal they’d landed on the grounds of Hogwarts, at the night of the battle.

They squinted through the bright haze of the memory to see that the castle was crumbling, and crawling with acromantulas. Small fires crackled away while unidentified bodies lay motionless across the courtyard.

Hermione exhaled sharply as they turned to see Harry being confronted by Lord Voldemort.

“Oh, Harry.” She breathed, her heart clenched at the sight of her scrawny friend facing the dark wizard, wandless but determined.

She looked across at Draco who was watching, confusion playing on his face.

“We were all so shocked to see Harry hadn’t died in the forest,” she explained, “no one noticed he was unarmed… except you.”

Dracos eyes narrowed as he watched the memory of himself pull away from the group of Death Eaters on Voldemort's periphery. “Potter!” His double shouted, tossing his wand to a perplexed Harry.

“Voldemort turned his wand on you.” Hermione said softly, watching as the dark lord spun in place to point his wand at Draco.

“TRAITOR!” He said, his pointed teeth exposed from his snarl. “Your family has failed me for the last time.”

“And then…” Hermione said, her voice drowned out from Voldemort’s bellow.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

There was a flurry of movement, footsteps pounded across the courtyard. Green light erupted from Voldemort’s wand.

“Your father jumped in front of the curse.” Hermione said, unable to look Draco in the eye as they watched Lucius Malfoy throw himself in front of the killing curse, shoving Draco aside. Lucius’ long hair and robes billowed out behind him, his face pulled into a defiant scowl as the green light barreled through his chest.

“Father!” Draco cried, falling to his knees over Lucius’ crumpled form.

“H-He didn’t suffer.” Hermione swallowed thickly and looked askance at the spectre of Draco Malfoy as he realised his father had died to protect him. His mouth was hanging open slightly, as he watched on in horror. Though he’d never had colour in his ghostly features, she could have sworn he’d grown paler.

“That’s when the final battle began.” Hermione said as green and red lights lit up the grounds. They watched as Harry and Voldemort’s spells collided. Neville sliced clean through Voldemort’s snake with the sword of Gryffindor. Hermione’s heart raced as she watched the memory of her and Ron being chased by an enormous spider. Draco was slumped over his father. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched Lucius’ robes. He looked so small.

“Everything descended into chaos. Neville killed Nagini, Ron and I were cornered by an acromantula. And your Aunt… she was furious” Hermione said, as they watched Bellatrix Lestrange approach Draco’s hunched form, her body contorted with rage.

“You idiot boy. Look what you’ve done.” Bellatrix spat, her movements were sporadic and rigid, like a wooden puppet.

Nearby Hermione shrieked as she struggled against the acromantula, that held her down while it grappled with Ron. They watched as Hermione desperately reached for her wand that had fallen a few feet away, her fingers outstretched.

“The spider had me pinned. I could only watch.” Hermione said breathlessly to Draco.

Bellatrix's shrill voice pulled their attention back to the scene that was unfolding across the courtyard.

“I raised you like you were my own son after your mother died, while your foolish father wasted his life away- and this is how you repay me?!” Bellatrix’s hand rested on her heaving chest as she looked down at Draco with disdain.

“It was bad enough that you interfered to save that pretty little Mudblood.” Bellatrix snarled, her fist clenched around her wand. She paused, her head bent at an odd angle while her voice lilted dangerously. “But this… well, this is unforgivable.”

“Ginny!” Hermione yelled as her friend approached to help her from where she was trapped under the spider. “Behind you, Malfoy’s in trouble!”

“Oh, and you’re not?” Ginny snorted as the spider wrapped Ron up in its web.

Bellatrix loomed further over Draco. “You have betrayed the dark lord and sullied the Black name.” She raised her wand which emitted angry sparks as she took a predatory step forward.

“Ginny freed us.” Hermione said as they watched Ginny blast the spider with a powerful Bombarda, then she and Ginny bolted in the direction where Bellatrix stood over Draco.

“You are no blood of mine.” Bellatrix's voice was cold as Draco raised an arm to shield his face.

“We tried to stop her.” Hermione’s voice came out as a whisper as she and Ginny scrambled across the grounds, firing spells at the witch. “But we were too late.” Her voice broke as their surroundings were bathed in green light.

“I couldn’t save you.” Hermione croaked. They were back in the dungeons now staring into the pensieve. “A-After that, Bellatrix attacked us.” Hermione said, raising her eyes to look into Draco’s stony expression as he stared into the swirling basin.

“Luckily Ron’s mum appeared and-”

“Spiders” Draco said vaguely.

Hermione watched him apprehensively. “Malfoy?” She spoke his name cautiously. He’d brought a hand over his mouth and his eyes had widened.

“So…” Draco said, leaning forward over the pensieve, his fingers pressed to his temple as though he were nursing a headache. “You mean to tell me, at the last possible moment, I developed a hero complex.” He straightened suddenly, his hands clasping briefly together before he leaned forward again on the bench. “And then… on a half-brained impulse I ended my entire bloodline to save- Harry Potter- of all people?” His last sentence came out as a dark chuckle, his face pulled into a maniacal grin. His eyes seemed unfocused as he watched Hermione struggle with a response.

“I, erm- don’t know if I’d put it that way, but-”

“FUCK!” Draco turned away from her and screamed into the sprawling darkness. He was doubled over and took several hulking breaths before turning around to face her, running trembling hands through his silvery translucent hair.

“Apologies.” He muttered without need for explanation.

“Malfoy, I-I’m sorry.” Hermione stuttered. She looked at him through eyes bright with tears. “You kept talking about Lucius as though you expected him to return. I realised that you didn’t remember.” Her head dropped as Draco took a step towards her.

“If I just-”

“Don’t.” Draco said, leaning in to her. Without hesitation he raised his hand to her cheek to catch a tear from falling, but the tear passed through his fingers and travelled down her chin.

“There’s nothing you could have done.” Draco said, his eyes fixed on where his hand should have been touching Hermione’s cheek, but instead Hermione felt only air. He withdrew his hand and looked down at it, his expression weary.

“I wish I could…” He began, but stopped himself. Instead, he closed his hand into a tight fist and lowered it to his side. He straightened abruptly and schooled his voice to a cold aristocratic tone.

“Look, thanks for the memories Granger, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone down here.” He said. His face bore little expression.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, worried to leave him alone with everything he’d just seen.

“Positive.” He replied curtly.

Without another word, Hermione shepherded Crookshanks up the stairs, turning back to see Draco take a seat on the staircase.

As she closed the door behind her, she heard a strangled sob from the other side.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Narcissus

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Undeniable Chemistry.

Hermione poked her head around the corner of the sitting room to observe Draco on the couch watching television through a glassy expression. He’d been sat there for the past several days now, consuming the episodes of Charmed she’d painstakingly downloaded for him.

She took a deep breath and approached, channeling all her positive energy into her next sentence. “I have some exciting news that might cheer you up!” She announced, leaning with both hands on the arm rest, her leg kicking up behind her in the momentum of her enthusiasm.

Draco looked at her askance, raising a single brow before his eyes flitted back to the screen.
“Is it about whether Piper and Leo develop chemistry at any point in this show? Because I’m struggling to believe they like each other at all… Charmed?” He said. “Hardly.”

“No…” Hermione said, battling a grin. “It’s about the potion.”

Draco sat up, his eyes brightening. “Oh, you’ve made a break-through to revitalise the wizarding world already?” He asked, as Hermione plopped into the couch beside him. She hadn’t meant to sit so close, with his arm still resting over the back of the couch, she felt enveloped in him.

“Erm-” she swallowed. “No, not that potion… your father’s Ambrosia Elixir.” She said, shrugging her shoulders in anticipation of his annoyance.

Draco sighed and brought his hand to his temple. “Not this again.” He said. “I told you not to waste your time on it.”

Choosing to ignore his petulant response, Hermione continued to explain her discovery.

“I’ve figured out what I need to complete it -well- your father did most of the leg work, I just connected the dots really.” She said, punctuating the air with her finger. “All we need is ash from a resurrected phoenix.”

Draco visibly recoiled, but Hermione continued, undeterred. “Proteins found in phoenix ashes will bind to the reactant molecules in the elixir and catalyse the reaction. Usually catalysts only accelerate the reaction, and wouldn’t contribute to it- but this is where magic comes in! After the reaction the properties are extracted; phoenix proteins are just built differently to regular proteins. Currently the reaction is happening too slowly, but with a catalyst, this magical catalyst… Malfoy, I really believe it will work!”

Draco merely blinked in response, chemical equations might well have been floating around her head for all he could make of what she was saying.

“Essentially your father has synthesised phoenix resurrection magic!” Hermione exclaimed, simplifying her explanation.

“Very clever Granger, but when was the last time you saw a phoenix? Let alone a recently resurrected one.” Draco replied, guilt spiking as he watched Hermione deflate.

“Well-” she sputtered. “I know they’re incredibly rare, but-”

“There hasn’t been a phoenix sighting since Dumbledore's hen flew off, and before that, who knows how long?” Draco said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Sure.” Hermione countered, willing herself to keep her voice level. “But I’m speaking to someone in an online forum who says they have some ashes and they’re willing to share them with me to support my cause!”

“An online forum?” Draco blinked, feeling, not for the first time in this short conversation, completely out of his depth.

“A chat room on the net. They say they’re located in Egypt and if I were to visit, they’d be more than happy to help! I was thinking that perhaps I could plan a trip after Christmas?” Hermione said, her excitement building at the prospect of an academic research adventure.

‘Ah.’ Draco thought, recognising some of the lingo he’d learned over the past few months, used in association with Hermione downloading television periodicals for him to watch. “So you’re talking to a complete stranger on your computer who is promising you, what could possibly be, one of the rarest magical items in the world- for free mind you- if you just hop over to the transcontinent real quick on an international portkey? And there is nothing suspicious about this to you?” He said, raising his hands in question at her.

“Erm…” Hermione shrugged, her eyes rolling backwards as if just realising this for the first time.

Draco could not understand how she figured out how to synthesise phoenix resurrection magic, but remained completely obtuse to matters of her personal safety.

Sighing and closing his eyes, he asked. “What about your real research Granger? Are you just abandoning it?”

Hermione felt a prickle of annoyance at that, but tamped it down. She was desperate for Draco to understand her point of view, but didn’t want to descend into a chaotic bickering spiral that came so naturally to them.

“Of course I’m not abandoning it… but I can do both,” she said. “You know I can practically multitask in my sleep. Besides- phoenixes are endemic to Egypt and the Arabian Peninsula; it makes sense someone there might have some ashes.”

“What do Potter and Weasley think of this plan?” Draco asked.

Mumbling, Hermione replied, “I haven’t exactly told them…” She said, avoiding his eye.

Suspicions confirmed, Draco turned to her in full, trying to appeal to her sense of reason.

“Granger. I want you to stop. This is going too far.” He said, any sense of agitation leaving him as he looked at the witch now kneeling before him on the cushions, her eyes wide and slightly crestfallen. “You don’t owe this to me.” He continued. “My death is entirely Bellatrix and The Dark Lord’s doing. We’ve talked about this.” He said softly, wishing he could take her hand.

Hermione turned away from him slightly, resting on one leg while the other swung over the edge of the couch. She took a deep breath, not wanting emotion to get the better of her.

“You stopped Bellatrix when she had me under her knife... I just wish I could have done the same for you.” She said, blinking against the memories of Bellatrix digging a blade into her throat.

“So that is what this is about?” Draco replied.

“It’s not just that, Malfoy…” Hermione said, chewing her lip.

“Am I another project then? Another problem for the brilliant mind of Hermione Granger to solve?” He asked, his voice solemn.

“A problem? No, how could you think that? It’s not that I couldn’t save you at the battle and I’m certainly not in this to give myself more work to do... it’s more than that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I- Well-” Hermione felt heat blooming in her cheeks. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.” She blurted and immediately wished she could take it back, as the corners of Draco’s mouth pulled up into a smirk.

“You’ve grown fond of me?” He said, his voice carrying a note of disbelief, as he sat straighter, taking in this surprising tidbit.

“Don’t preen for Heaven’s sake!” Hermione said, her cheeks brightening further. “I care for you, and I think you’re accepting your death too readily. I just don’t understand how you can be so blasé about your circumstances when the opportunity to change them is within our reach.”

“If you do care for me, you’ll respect my wishes and autonomy over my own life, or as it currently stands, death.” Draco said.

“Why won't you let me do this for you?” Hermione asked, as Draco felt his stomach backflip, knowing he’d have to confess to the same feelings if he was going to get this witch to relent.

“Have you thought that perhaps I care for you too? And that I don’t want to see any harm befall you on your feckless mission to finish my father’s potion? If you can find a solution that doesn’t jeopardize your own life or career, then by all means, carry on.” He said in one breath.

“I do think you’re overreacting about my meeting this person from the forum…” Granger pouted, her arms folded over her chest.

Emulating her pose, Draco replied curtly. “I think I’m reacting perfectly reasonably… you’ll simply have to find another way if bringing me back is so important to you.”

“But there is no other way!” Hermione said.

“You’re Hermione Granger. There is always another way. Now. Promise me you’re going to drop this travel nonsense.”

Hermione inhaled sharply, about to fight for what she wanted, to push further and make demands, knowing he couldn’t really stop her. But she felt the strength of her convictions leave her as she looked at Draco. He was smiling for the first time in days. Perhaps he was right, it was his death, as much as she wished she could change things, it wasn’t for her to decide.

“Fine.” She acquiesced.

“Good girl.” Draco said, stretching his arm out behind her on the couch and turning back to the television. Hermione felt her heart rate spike at his words and proximity; even though she knew she couldn’t touch him, she had the sudden urge to bury herself in his jumper.

“Now, turn the sound back on.” Draco said, gesturing to the remote. “Chauncey has queued up Buffy for us. Even though these muggle directors got the wrong end of the stick when it comes to vampires, at least they have undeniable chemistry.”

Hermione’s heart clenched upon a realisation as she unmuted the television.

“Undeniable chemistry.” She repeated under her breath, feeling that she’d just understood how it felt.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: "You've Got Mail."

Hermione placed her gifts on top of the mantle of the fire place and turned to Draco, who sat sulkily across the room in the window sill, his face angled towards the pitch dark manor grounds.

“Before I head to the burrow for the night… I wanted to give you something.” Hermione said, striding with a manufactured confidence across the carpet to stand beside him.

“What need do I have for Earthly possessions?” Draco replied, unmoving.

“Who says it’s Earthly?" Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "It should be clear enough to see now..." She added. Draco blinked up at her and stood, looking at her questioningly.

"Go on, have a look.” She nodded anxiously towards the telescope pointed out the window. Draco raised a brow, then bent to peer through the eye of the scope. Through the lens he could see the Draco constellation twinkling back at him.

“Cute, Granger-” He said as he pulled away from the telescope to smile at her, but she was brandishing a small piece of parchment in his face.

"Here!" Hermione said, a blush spreading beneath her freckles.

“Congratulations on your purchase... of the Draco Constellation.” Draco read from the card. It pictured a star map with the Draco constellation and best viewing times.

“I bought, or rather, rented it for you for the upcoming year." Hermione spoke rapidly. "It’s yours according to The International Astronomical Union! I just wanted to get you something that will remind you that you’re still part of this universe, and that you matter…  I mean you’re not matter, as such, I’m not sure what exactly you’re made of? Possibly myosin microfilaments or actin protein strands? That could explain your endoplasmic structure-"

Draco raised an eyebrow and Hermione's eyes widened.

“Oh God. Sorry, I’m rambling.” She gasped.

“Granger… you bought me the stars?” He said, his gaze soft as a small smile pulled at his lips.

“Your stars.” Hermione returned his smile bashfully. “Happy Christmas, Malfoy.”

“This is really...  you shouldn’t have. I wish I could return the gesture.” Draco replied.

“I think seeing you smile again is a gift in itself.” Hermione said, resting her hands on the telescope as she tilted her chin to him, he was suddenly intimidatingly tall, his appearance more ethereal against the dark backdrop of the sky. They held each other's gaze, as the stars winked like precious gems from a velvet box.

A loud squeak from the telescope broke their stupor. Hermione stepped back, slightly shaken. “Anyway!" She exclaimed in a squeak louder than the telescope and spun on her heel, marching back to the fire place. "I’ll be back before too long.” She spoke with her back to him, still reeling from whatever had just occurred between them. She pulled her wand from her pocket and directed a wordless Wingardium Leviosa at her gifts for Harry and the Weasleys. They sailed into the air with a little too much force, tumbling clumsily into each other above her head.

“Tell Weasley I said boo, I suppose.” Draco said, suppressing a laugh as he leant against the wall.

“Very funny. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive you for that spider stunt you pulled.” She tutted as she gained control of her spell and the presents, readying them for Floo travel.

“Pfft, and he calls himself an Auror. It was really just a training exercise- he should thank me for it.” Draco smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione scoffed as she reached for the Floo powder. “I’ve left my laptop to download the next episode of Buffy, don’t meddle with it if you want it to complete in the next few days!

“I wouldn't dream of it.” Draco drawled, placing his hand over his heart.

Hermione shook her head and tossed the powder into the fire.

“Later Granger. Thank you again. For the gift.” Draco nodded. Hermione smiled, almost longingly at him, as she and stepped into the flames.

Draco watched through hooded eyes as she was swept from the Manor to the Burrow through the roaring fire. His chest was still too light to feel resentful of her spending time with the Weasel and that lot over Christmas.

He lingered for a beat, watching the flames go back to normal, allowing himself a moment to bask in this new, light sensation that had been growing in him over the holidays.

The laptop on the table across the way caught his eye, and he sauntered over to it, hands in pockets.

“Meddle with." Draco scoffed. "Who does she take me for? Potter?” He peered at the screen which had an image of a cat wearing headphones, with the title 'Napster,' written alongside it.

“This is impressive magic.” He muttered, scratching his chin as he observed little numbers accumulating in a side bar.

"You've got mail!" The computer announced in a loud robotic voice, as a message flicked onto the screen.

"H, the package is ready. Hope you've got your portkey to Cairo. - PMan." Draco read the message aloud and his heart sank. Hermione had kept up communication with this stranger promising her Phoenix ashes in Egypt.

That warm fluttery feeling was so quickly replaced with a cold stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Chauncey.” He called for the elf who was watching Christmas movies in another room of the Manor.

The elf appeared with a pop, clutching a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

“Chauncey has spiked his own hot cocoa!” He announced giddily, then noticing Draco's solemn expression he began to speak. "Sir? what's-"

“I'll need you to make preparations to perform the spell.” Draco replied, his eyes still scanning the email. PMan sixty-nine at yahoo-dot-com? what was Granger thinking?

“The spell, sir?" Chauncey asked, his face had fallen into a look of worry.

“Mother’s spell. Oriardum Evanes.”

“But sir!!" The elf cried, falling to his knees, his hot coco becoming airborne. "That means-” 

“I know what it means, Chauncey. But this is all I can do to protect her. I know I can’t make you and I know it’s asking a lot... but I need you to do this for me- for miss Granger. Please.”

Chauncey rose from his knees and studied his feet for a long while.

“Chauncey will do it. For miss.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: No Stars

Hermione’s fingers had barely grazed the floo powder before she heard Ginny's sharp exhale beside her. “Really? An Irish Goodbye on New Year’s Eve?” Her friend said, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed as her hand whipped guiltily away from the powder. “Erm, sorry Gin. I just didn’t feel like explaining myself to everyone.” She said, truthfully.

“Don’t worry, I get it. This party is deader than an actual ghost anyway.” She said flippantly, before narrowing her eyes and raising a shrewd finger to jab in Hermione’s direction. “You know, you really ought to get a move on with that ultimate pepper up potion you’re making… It’s almost the new Millennium and we’re all cooped up in our homes.” Ginny said, her arms now flailing in exasperation.

“I’m working on it.” Hermione said through a sympathetic smile.

“It’s so boring.” Ginny groaned. Hermione couldn’t help but agree. They’d all come to celebrate New Year's Eve at Neville’s flat, but spirits had been sombre. They’d formed a semicircle in the small kitchen where conversation inevitably regressed into talk about the war. New theories had sprouted and squabbles transpired between friends over what the true fate of the dark lord had been. The grey clouds that had gathered outside might as well have drifted in through the window panes.

Hermione shifted toward the floo powder again, hoping she might avoid explaining herself to Ginny. Draco had asked if she’d be home before midnight and she had caught a flicker of something in his expression and realised she didn’t want him to bring in the new millennium alone. He’d been out of sorts since Christmas, and thoughts of sitting by the fire, talking late into the night about anything other than the war was really how she’d prefer to spend the start of the new century. 

“Oh Hermione! Are you leaving?” Luna Lovegood had approached them at the fireplace, looking quite bug-eyed in her tremendous ‘year 2000’ novelty glasses.

“Yes, sorry I didn’t say goodbye.’” Hermione said.

“I can tell you’ve someone painfully important to meet- but if you don’t mind waiting just a moment longer, I have something for you!” Luna said so earnestly, it gave Hermione pause.

“Sure.” Hermione shrugged as Luna skipped down the hall. Ginny shot Hermione an imperious grin. “Tsh” The ginger scoffed. “More like painfully impotent… ‘Cos Malfoy’s a ghost.” She laughed, shooting finger guns at Hermione.

Hermione stiffened slightly, unable to meet Ginny’s eye. She saw Ginny’s jaw drop from her periphery, and knew she should have been more careful around her most intuitive friend. Harry and Ron wouldn’t have batted an eyelid at the hesitation.

“W-What’s that look?” Ginny demanded. Before Hermione had a chance to respond, Ginny had escalated things to a category 5. “OH MY GODS!!” She gasped as Hermione moved to cover her mouth. “YOU LIKE HIM!” she shouted through Hermione's hand.

“It’s not so simple.” Hermione tried pleading with her friend.

“Well of course it’s not simple, he’s dead, Hermione! Have you lost your-”

She pulled Ginny close. “Ginny please!” I’ll tell you about it later.” She said, her expression so severe Ginny seemed to swallow her next sentence.

“Here it is!” Luna announced, stepping back into the room holding up a glittering floral hairclip, oblivious to the commotion.

“It’s an Australian mistletoe variant.” Luna said happily. “Father says it will protect us from the Y2K virus that will spread upon midnight.” She held the hair clip expectantly and Hermione leaned forward, so Luna could place it in her hair.

Ginny was frowning, her arms folded tightly as she watched Hermione raise her hand to touch the delicate hairpiece.

“Thanks Luna.” Hermione said, as she reached into the floo pot, tossing the powder into the fire in a single motion. “Okay-bye- happy new year!” She said in one exhale as she was whipped back home to Malfoy Manor.

As she exited the fireplace she brushed the soot from her black floor length gown; the sequins shimmered in the dim light of the manor.

“Malfoy, I’m home!” She called, relieved she’d made it home before the new year. She was slightly crestfallen to realise he hadn’t been waiting nearby for her. She’d gotten quite used to him drifting through walls to greet her upon arriving home.

“Oh.” Hermione said, noticing a small scroll on a side table across the way. As she approached it she saw two spiders scarpering for cover. She unfurled the scroll, holding it aloft she read it aloud. 

“Dear Miss Hermione Granger. You are cordially invited to attend the Malfoy Family’s New Year’s Eve Ball.
To be held at the Granger Estate.
Enter via the grand ballroom.
Your attendance would be my greatest honour.
Yours sincerely
-D.M”

Hermione stared at the note, as a cold sensation crept up her spine. This didn’t feel like one of his usual tricks. There was something so sincere about the letter. Chauncey couldn’t have penned it, the handwriting was far too neat. She swallowed down her sense of dread and marched in the direction of the ballroom. She would not allow her thoughts to get out of hand.

“Malfoy?” She called his name in question as she pushed on the heavy ballroom doors. “Where is everyone? This had better not be a prank, I really thought we were past all this-”

Hermione froze in place as the doors swung open. She could hardly comprehend what she was seeing.

“Granger.” Draco smiled, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d show.”

His dress shoes clipped across the marble as he made his way across the ballroom floor. As he slowed to stop in front of her, she could hear the rustle of fabric from his suit. A floral scent caught her attention and her eyes drifted to the daffodil boutonnière tucked neatly in the lapel of his suit jacket. He appeared before her, filling the space like he never had before. He offered his hand, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he observed her startled reaction. She’d been wringing her hands so tightly they’d gone white. His eyes twinkled as his hand remained outstretched.

Slowly, she raised her hand to meet his own. It couldn’t be possible, she thought. He had only existed as an absence of space, a presence she could hardly sense in a room, let alone physically touch.

Her fingers trembled slightly as they glided across his palm. Her breath escaped her like a shiver as his fingers closed around her hand, warm when she had expected cold.

“Dance with me.” He said, taking a step towards the dance floor leading her in tow. She followed him on legs that could give way at any moment.

Music crackled to life as Draco led her across the floor. He moved her into a dance position, guiding her arms around his neck while his hands settled at her waist. She was surprised to find her mind empty of thought; Draco’s smile seemed to suggest he was amused by the absence of interrogation. He looked at her softly through hooded eyes. Her hand moved across his chest, resting beside the daffodil boutonniere. Her lips parted as she felt herself leaning into him, then she jolted abruptly, realising her feet were no longer on the dance floor. She peered down past their shoes to see they’d floated several feet off the ground.

“Don’t let go.” Draco whispered as she flung her arms around his neck. He pulled her in close as they continued to drift upwards. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I orchestrated that ridiculous ghost soirée.” He said, his breath fanning across her cheek as his arms encircled her, pulling her in close. “Why are you still waiting?” She asked, glad her mind wasn't trying reason of how this was possible. They moved into each other, eyes fluttering closed. Their lips met and she was certain she’d left her body on the dance floor below as his fingers traced up her spine to rest at the base of her neck. They were suspended in this moment together, locked in a kiss like nothing she had ever felt, nothing she’d even thought possible. She could have soared around the ballroom from the sensation that bubbled in her chest.

She was struck by a foggy memory and pulled away to meet his eyes. “Can I keep you?” She whispered. Draco tensed in surprise as she burrowed into his chest.

“You heard that?” He asked hoarsely, his hands tentative on her back as she listened to his thundering heart.

“Mmhmm.” She replied, closing her eyes as she breathed him in; under the perfume of the flower he was parchment, woodfire and clean cotton sheets. She could get used to this, she sighed as she felt her mind slowly fill with the questions she'd been suppressing. She groaned, forcing them down as they all presented problems she couldn’t bear to face at this moment.

“I don’t want to wake from this dream.” She mumbled into his chest. That must be what this was, she thought. She’d fallen asleep at Neville’s party after too much warm white wine.

“This isn’t a dream.” Draco's voice cut through her hazy wondering and she opened her eyes. “It’s not?” she asked, slightly taken aback. It was then that she saw Crookshanks and Chauncey, crouched before the speakers. Fat tears rolled down Chauncey’s plump cheeks, he gripped the forlorn looking cat tightly in his arms.

Hermione pulled herself upright and looked into Draco’s eyes, where a tear had just escaped.

“Then what-” She began but stopped as she realised they were on solid ground again. Looking down she noticed his feet had disappeared. She gasped, and clutched at his arms.

“What did you do?” She said, the floating bubbly sensation replaced with an icy dread growing from the pit of her stomach. Draco’s eyes had lost their twinkle. She scanned his face trying to understand, her gaze dropped to the flower.

“Narcissa.” She said as the cogs in her brain worked overtime to make sense of what was happening. “Y-your mother… You said you’d never seen her as a spirit?"

“... Not since father performed the spell.” Draco said softly, his hand tracing delicately over her chin. He was watching her figure it out, she realised. He wasn’t going to tell her. She watched him through wide eyes as the ice in her stomach splintered into cold realisation.

“N-not Oriardum Evanes?” she said quietly, her trembling hands moving to cover her mouth as she struggled to remember what she’d read in his father’s lab. “But Lucius’ notes…” and then it hit her like a cold wind had blown right through her, she felt physically winded. “Your father was never able to reverse it!!” She cried, reaching for him as tears pricked her eyes.  “-I don’t know how to fix this!”

Draco took both her hands in his and kissed each of her knuckles, then he looked into her eyes with a determined sorrow. “You can’t. Not this time.” He said.

Her breath stuttered as she watched him slowly disappear before her eyes. He placed both his hands on either side of her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears that gathered there.

“I wanted to give you all of me. And selfishly I wanted to know what it felt like to hold you just once. Before I go.” He said.

“No.” She sobbed, grasping at his jacket in both fists. If she held him tight enough he couldn’t leave. He couldn't.

Then his body gave way to air and she tumbled through the space he had just occupied, the flower from his lapel tumbling delicately beside her. She twisted around on the floor, hand outstretched as the remaining trace of him lingered like a dying flame.

“Please Draco.” She cried. “Don’t leave me.”

But now not even the echo of his former self remained.

Hermione crumpled into herself as the cold marble beneath her seeped into her bones.

She was alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: H.O.P.E

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: More Time

“Bloody Hell.” Ron exclaimed, his face illuminated by the small wooden box held tightly in his hands. “I’ve said this hundreds of times but it really bears repeating... you’re brilliant, Hermione.” The potion inside the box flooded the area around it in hues that hadn’t been seen since before the war.

“Hardly…” Hermione rebutted, despondent. “I discovered it by mistake- by being rather careless actually- and who knows what The Ministry will say? What if their trials don’t work? Then the potion won’t be distributed and this would all have been a terrible waste of time.”

Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks over Hermione’s head, which had dropped into her hands. They were squashed together on a settee in one of the manor’s family rooms. Nearby Chauncey was learning to knit while Crookshanks watched over the trio with his usual contempt.

Ron closed the lid on the box as Harry cleared his throat.

“Hermione… we know you’ve been a bit down since... um…”

“Since that ghost git cleared out.” Ron jumped in at Harry’s hesitation.

Harry and Hermione both shot Ron disapproving looks as he conceded immediately. “Sorry.” He mumbled, raising his hands in apology.

“We’re worried about you.” Harry picked up where he’d left off, “you’ve not been yourself lately.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, “It’s not like you to be so down on your work. You should be so proud of what you’ve achieved, stuff what The Ministry thinks.”

Hermione sighed and the boys leaned in. “You can talk to us,” they said, and Hermione felt a pull in her chest, like a tightly wound spool of yarn coming undone. She’d barely spoken about Draco since he disappeared. She clasped her hands together and stared at the floor as she spoke.

“I-I miss him terribly,” she said, “but I’m also so furious with him... I was so close to completing Lucius’ Ambrosia elixir.” Her hands trembled slightly, in anger or sadness, she wasn’t sure. “I just needed more time… he left and I don’t know why, or where he went… or if he’ll come back.” Her shoulders dropped and her hands fell at her sides as she finally acknowledged the possibility Draco mightn’t return.

Harry had been watching her speak with a quiet intensity, a glimmer of understanding in his eye. He spoke softly, but with a certainty that could only come from someone who had been through the throes of grief. “It feels to me that, maybe, Draco was trying to say goodbye? He would have wanted you to live a full and complete life... something you weren’t really doing when he was here, and I’m sure he could see that.” Harry spoke into his lap now. “The best thing you can do to honour his memory is to keep living your life Hermione… It doesn’t pay to dwell on our ghosts. Trust me. I know.”

Hermione knew Harry was thinking of everyone he’d lost. His parents, Dumbledore, Sirius… she felt a pang of guilt at being so absorbed in her own sadness these past few months, the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts had come and gone and she hadn’t thought to reach out to anyone, though, no one had reached out to her either. “Maybe you’re right Harry.” She said, but the words didn’t feel right on her tongue. She wasn’t ready. “But I just can’t let go. Not yet.”

They sat for a few moments in quiet reflection before Hermione threw up her hands. “I can’t stand this maudlin,” she said, “tell me about your work. How has it been since being promoted from junior aurors?”

“It’s gruelling work, Hermione.” Ron said, relieved to be talking about something other than his ex-girlfriends phantom infatuation.

“I never thought I’d miss desk duty,” Harry added, “but this past month has been more of a trial than the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Oh? How so?” Hermione asked, surprised to see Harry was able to make jest of his traumatic school years.

“Well,” Ron leaned forward excitedly, “we’ve been tailing this guy for months- suspected he was tampering with time turners. Arrested him just yesterday.”

Harry nodded, “It was so much worse than we initially suspected, too! You won’t believe who it was!” He said, matching Ron’s fervor.

Hermione looked between them quizzically.

“Remember Theodore Nott from school, yeah? Sorta creepy, quiet guy. Used to hang out with Malfoy and those Slytherin knobs-” Ron looked cowed before Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Sorry,” he said, and continued, “he’s been up to all kinds. We got him for illegal possession and manipulation of an unregistered and advanced Time Turner, and that’s not the half of it. He’s got an arsenal of dark magic and potions too. Nott’s going away for a long time once we get our hands on all that evidence.”

Hermione felt her heart jump… advanced time turners, what could that mean? Before she had a chance to ask, Harry jumped in.

“Our scans show that his castle is riddled with wormholes- made from frequent attempts at time manipulation. All the wards to the grounds are sealed with an ancient blood magic- so it’s been impossible to inspect thoroughly.” He said.

“Advanced time turners?” Hermione stammered, “wormholes?”

“We think he’s been corrupting time turners and travelling years back- possibly as far back as Tom Riddle’s schooldays, in an attempt to bring The Dark Lord into the present day!” Ron said. “Once senior aurors are able to break down the wards, we’ll know more.”

Hermione’s heart was racing now. “He’s been able to travel multiple years into the past?” She asked, trying not to reveal where her head was at. “I thought that was impossible?”

Ron shook his head. “Like I said, we don’t know the full picture just yet, but give us more time and we’ll figure out the extent of the damage he’s caused.”

Hermione shot to her feet, in three quick strides she had made her way across the room to the harth. “More time,” she whispered to herself.

“Hermione? Where are you going?” Ron said, alarmed. Both he and Harry had risen to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion.

“Azkaban.” Hermione said plainly and steadily, reaching a hand into the floo powder and tossing it into the flames. “I need to speak to Theodore Nott.”

Before Harry and Ron could utter their protestations, she was gone in a lick of green flames.

“Now we’ve done it.” Ron groaned as Harry pushed his glasses up his forehead to squeeze the bridge of his nose. When Hermione was struck by an idea, they had no hope of standing in her way.