1,716Author's Note: Thanks as always for all the kind words, the follows, the favourites. It all means so much. I've hardly had time to write lately, and so I haven't been great with responding, but you've all been so lovely and encouraging.
I mentioned a couple chapters ago I was nominated for a few Granger Enchanted awards, and I'm thrilled and honoured to say I'm now a finalist in all three categories. Chronos Historia for most creative plot; Proximate for best Healer!Hermione; and myself for favourite writer of ten years or more. Thank you, so much, to those who nominated or voted for me in the semi-finals. And voting for the finals is open until April 7th on the Granger Enchanted Survivors fb group, because some people have asked :)
Lastly, before I let you read, there will be ONE more chapter after this one. I'm not one to draw out endings but there was no way I could adequately address all the outstanding loose ends in this chapter. Thank you for sticking with me xoxo
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
Hermione frowned as she walked through the corridor beside Draco, the latter obviously deep in thought and distracted.
The past few months, since the excitement with Ravenclaw and the time portal had occurred, had been in comparison quiet and simple. Hermione, with Draco alongside her – though some days begrudgingly – had fallen into a rigorous NEWT review and study schedule.
On occasion, Helena and Waldo would drift through the walls of the library to join them, but it was clear the two ghosts had no interest whatsoever in helping them prepare for their exams, given Helena and Waldo had not been students for a millennium.
But Hermione felt the heavy tension as their NEWTs grew ever nearer; only a little more than a month remained of their eighth and final year at Hogwarts.
Draco scuffed his boots along the stone floor as he walked, an uncharacteristic slouch to his shoulders and a furrow to his brow.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, nudging him with her shoulder. Draco flinched, looking up to meet her gaze. "Are you nervous about tonight?"
"Tonight," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Why would I be nervous? I'm not the one who has to give a speech in front of hundreds of people."
"Thanks for the reminder," Hermione muttered under her breath.
It was the second of May, and Hogwarts would play host to a commemorative ceremony, in recognition of the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Much of wizarding Britain would be in attendance, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been asked to give an address.
Hermione attempted to push the nerve-wracking thoughts delicately to the back of her mind, as she had done for the past month every time the subject had come up.
"Well, something's bothering you," she said, tossing her hair from her shoulder in an attempt at flippancy. She hesitated, turning to Draco's distraught countenance once more. "If you don't want to talk about it…"
"No, I do," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "I just know how much you've had on your mind in preparation for tonight. I thought it could wait until after."
He turned to her, his lips pursed. Hermione stopped walking, taking a seat on a nearby bench and Draco joined her.
"I've received word from a few of the Potions Masters I reached out to with regards to my apprenticeship," he explained, drawing several sheets of parchment out from the pocket of his robes.
"Oh, that's wonderful news, isn't it?" Hermione asked, blinking. "Or were they not acceptance letters?"
"No, they're all acceptance letters," Draco conceded. "From the Masters in Madrid, Marseille, Budapest." He thumbed absently through the letters as he spoke. "Actually, they all sounded quite eager."
"Well, your samples were brilliant," Hermione said, beaming at him. "And Slughorn is projecting a top O for your NEWT."
Draco hissed at the precognition, and Hermione smiled, knowing how he refused to acknowledge the idea that he might finish top of their class in Potions, in the event that it might somehow jinx his exam results.
Hermione frowned, turning to him once more. "Nothing from the potioneers in England or Wales?"
"No," Draco replied carefully, "not yet. I suspect it might be… too close to home. My name, of course."
So that was why he looked so distraught, despite the otherwise good news. He had guessed, rather pessimistically, Hermione had thought at the time, that the Masters familiar with the name of Malfoy might be hesitant to take him on as an apprentice.
And the completion of his mastery would take two years. International wizarding travel, whether via Portkey, Floo or Apparition, was governed by strict and complex rules.
"I understand," Hermione murmured. While a part of her was thrilled for Draco that he was pursuing his dream of earning a mastery in Potions, with the ultimate goal of opening his own apothecary one day, she was simultaneously saddened at the thought of being apart for the majority of the two years.
Hermione had already been speaking with representatives in multiple departments at the Ministry about pursuing an entry-level position almost immediately out of school.
"So," Draco said with a heavy sigh, forcing a smile. "You see why it's a difficult decision."
"We can make it work," she reminded him, referencing the discussion they'd had when Draco had first decided to reach out internationally. She smiled brightly. "This is good news, Draco! Of those three, which would you prefer?"
"I can't decide," Draco admitted. "I have family near Marseille, which would be nice. Madrid would be the most temperate option. And Budapest has a long and fruitful history in potioneering and potions development. I'm certain I would learn things there that I couldn't learn anywhere else."
"Could your pale skin handle living in Spain?" Hermione teased and Draco raised an eyebrow as he gave her a look of consternation.
"Never you mind my fair skin," he retorted. "I'll have you know I am perfectly capable of getting a tan in the proper climate."
"Right," Hermione snickered. "I'm more inclined to believe you'd burn to a crisp."
Draco leaned in towards Hermione, his grey eyes flashing, though his lips twitched.
"Do I need to shut you up?" he growled, his gaze penetrating hers as he tugged her nearer by her tie.
"Yes," she breathed.
Hermione released a heavy exhale as she smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her gown. The nerves had steadily crept up on her since she and Draco had parted ways that afternoon.
While she understood the collective desire of the wizarding world to celebrate the downfall of the most notorious dark wizard to have ever existed, for many, the Battle of Hogwarts had been a day of devastating losses, and the event would bring those memories back.
Even thinking about it, Hermione was forced to relive the mental images of Fred, of Remus and Tonks, of Lavender and Colin, and so many others.
She took another deep breath.
It would be a night to honour the fallen, and to look towards a better future.
Hermione forced a smile as she met Draco on the landing at the base of Gryffindor Tower. He was dashing in his finest dress robes, his hair done atop his head in a way that made Hermione's stomach clench. A crooked smile grew on his face as he saw her.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, bending to drop a kiss to the back of her hand.
Hermione flushed as she met his eyes, offering him a small curtsy before tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.
"Thank you," she replied, meeting his gaze as they started towards the Great Hall. "You look very handsome, yourself."
"I like that colour on you," Draco said, his tone conversational, though his eyes shone.
Hermione glanced down at the dress she had purchased in Hogsmeade for the occasion. It was a soft, flowing lilac material with silver stitching and beaded embellishments.
"Thank you," Hermione repeated, forcing herself to swallow.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked, turning to her with a playful nudge to her side. "Are you nervous now?"
"I suppose," Hermione said with a sigh. "It's just… so many people will be here who suffered such terrible losses that day. What am I supposed to say to them that will make that any better? Why does it matter what I have to say?"
"You don't need to make them feel better," Draco murmured. "But they want to hear from you all the same. And Potter, and Weasley. I'm not sure whether you realize, Hermione, how much it meant to people to know you lot were still alive, back in seventh year."
"Really?" Hermione asked, eyes flickering to him.
"Really," Draco echoed, his brows knitting together. "Everyone knew if you'd been caught, it would be all over the Prophet. People tried to keep quiet about it, but every day the front page wasn't a great photo of the three of you – I don't know, it was like a morale boost. Your mere existence became symbolic of hope. Around Hogwarts, anyways. And when the Carrows weren't around, of course."
"I didn't know," she said quietly with a long exhale.
"And I can only imagine the same held true in the greater wizarding world," he concluded. "So, I'm not certain they'll care what you say. But the fact that you said anything at all will resonate."
"Thank you," Hermione breathed. "That's helped a bit."
"Good," Draco said, planting a kiss on her lips. "Now come, I want to show you off."
Hermione relaxed into her seat, sipping her Butterbeer as she observed the goings on of the event.
The address with Harry and Ron had gone better than she had expected. Harry had thanked everyone for attending, before sharing a few of his experiences over the months which led up to the final battle; the hopelessness, the struggles they'd faced, and ultimately, the belief that they had to carry on in spite of everything. Many people had been in tears.
Ron had shared stories as well, anecdotes that had had the audience chuckling. Ron shared a message of hope for the future with those in attendance, in a way that only Ron could, and Hermione had found herself to be immensely proud of both him and Harry, beaming at the two of them as they spoke.
And when Hermione had stepped forward, her voice sounding unfamiliar with the Sonorous charm cast upon it, she shared her convictions of the wizarding world moving forward. Of her dreams of an integrated society, where blood purity was irrelevant – a world driven forward by love and forgiveness rather than torn apart by hate.
And when Hermione had met Draco's eye across the hall – she couldn't be certain whether the sheen she had thought she saw in his eye was a trick of the light – she had found herself swallowing thickly as she carried on.
She closed with a moment of silence, in remembrance of the fallen, and many were swiping at their eyes as the attendees rose as one to their feet.
A large memorial plaque that had been mounted was then revealed; the enormity of the list of names had Hermione's eyes stinging as well.
Then she re-took her seat with Harry and Ron, her hand slipping into Draco's on instinct as she glanced at him, feeling her heart swell at the pride in his gaze. Though the emotion of the evening had been overwhelming – Hermione had had to remind herself more than once that they had escaped, they were alive – it was a relief to know the world was able to move on.
"You were brilliant," Draco murmured, turning to her and running a hand down her bare arm. He clinked his wine glass with Hermione's, holding her gaze. He moistened his lips. "I love you."
"I love you more," Hermione breathed, unable to look away from the weight of his grey gaze as she sipped her drink. Goosebumps erupted on her arm where his hand lingered and Hermione swallowed, looking away.
Her gaze fell on Narcissa, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, sitting with Andromeda and Teddy Tonks. Hermione watched as Andromeda and Teddy stood when the crowd began to mingle and Narcissa remained seated, dressed in fine robes, her blonde hair tied into an elegant twist.
"Come on," Hermione murmured, gesturing in the direction of Draco's mother. Following her gaze, Draco nodded and stood, offering his hand to Hermione.
"Draco, Hermione," Narcissa greeted as they slid into Andromeda and Teddy's vacated seats. "How wonderful to see you both. Hermione, darling, you were fabulous. And you look stunning, of course."
"Thank you, Narcissa," Hermione said, offering the woman a smile. "It is nice to see you again."
Hermione's eyes flickered to Draco who looked on with a questioning stare. She took a deep breath and fidgeted with a sheet of parchment she had stowed in a hidden compartment in the dress. Hermione deliberately ignored the many pairs of eyes she could feel assessing her, as she sat with the two Malfoys.
"I meant to thank you for sending Draco that old book on magical heirlooms," Hermione murmured. Draco's eyes flew to meet hers and he smirked in comprehension, slipping an arm around her back.
"Of course," Narcissa said, lips pursing as she looked between the two of them, waiting for elaboration.
"We wanted to test this necklace, you see," Hermione said, showing Narcissa the small, intricate star pendant on her necklace.
Narcissa stared, her brow furrowing as she looked between them.
"It's lovely," Narcissa stated. "Where did you receive it?"
"From my mother, Jean Granger," Hermione said evenly. Without fanfare, she handed the sheet of parchment to Narcissa, who unfolded it and began to read the long, magically populated list.
Draco pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek when Narcissa's breath caught: presumably she had reached the magical generations.
"Black, Selwyn, Burke," Narcissa read quietly to herself, then stopped short, the blood draining from her face. Her blue eyes flew to meet Hermione's, then flickered to Draco's. "Ravenclaw? This can't be true."
"It is," Draco assured her. "Mother, a lot has happened this year. Helena Ravenclaw, the ghost of Ravenclaw, has confirmed it's the same necklace. Which makes Hermione very distantly descended from the house of Ravenclaw."
"But yet…" Narcissa said, shaking her head. "Yet you are Muggle-born." She ran a finger down the long list of names, stopping between Edith Black and her daughter Eva Cromwell.
"Eva Cromwell was a Squib," Draco confirmed.
"But how on Earth did you learn of any of this?" Narcissa asked, bewildered. "Why think to test the necklace at all?"
Hermione met Draco's eyes; he shrugged and smirked. Then she turned back to Narcissa and smiled at the woman.
"You see, Narcissa," Hermione began, "on the fifteenth of January, Draco and I were doing our Prefect rounds together when we heard a strange sound…"
When Hermione and Draco completed an abridged telling of the story some time later, Narcissa stared between the two of them. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it once more, pursing her lips.
Hermione glanced to Draco; he slanted a crooked smile her way.
"I believe you," Narcissa said, adjusting her hair, "if for no reason other than that story is too strange to have been invented." The woman hesitated, staring at Draco. "And so Ravenclaw is gone for good?"
"Yes," Draco nodded.
"And the ghosts? They are still here?"
"Only until the end of the year," Draco responded, "and then they plan to carry on into the next life."
"It's all tremendously fascinating," Narcissa clipped. "But Hermione, dear, what do you intend to do about your newly discovered heritage?"
Hermione glanced to Draco, worrying her lower lip, then turned back to the Malfoy matriarch. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with that."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her wine.
"The more I think about it, the more I believe the true history of Ravenclaw – both Rowena and Helena – needs to be known. The history books, for one thing, will need to be amended." Beside her, Draco snickered. "And secondly, I was thinking it might be a chance to make things right with regards to the true story between Helena and Waldo. The houses of Baron and Ravenclaw didn't end after all, but more importantly, Waldo has been vilified for a millennium. The least I can do is set the record straight."
"Very well," Narcissa said, inclining her head. "And how can I help?"
"I have been considering that maybe we could arrange an interview," Hermione said, glancing to Draco. "It was my hope that you would know someone. Just… not Rita Skeeter."
"Absolutely," Narcissa said, her lips spreading into a demure smile. "I shall send an owl tomorrow."
After Narcissa departed with Andromeda and Teddy, promising to report back soon, Hermione looked up and did a double-take when she spotted her friends.
Harry, Ron and Ginny were sitting at a large, round table with Nott, Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, who was in attendance for the event, despite having opted not to complete her eighth year at Hogwarts. Hermione vaguely remembered that Daphne was dating Nott, and she flushed upon recalling that Draco had a history with the pretty blonde.
Hermione shared a wide-eyed glance with Draco as they joined the large group of their collective friends.
"Someone's spiked the punch," Ginny said by way of greeting, her arms folded across her chest as she and Daphne looked on at the four boys with a combination of consternation and amusement, sipping their own glasses gingerly.
It was only then that Hermione noticed Harry, Ron, Nott, and Zabini seemed to be looser than she had last seen them, gesturing wildly with cups of punch as they seemed to be discussing a quidditch match that had happened the week before.
She slipped into an empty seat beside Harry and Draco followed suit between her and Zabini.
"Long chat with the Lady Malfoy," Zabini teased, turning from the debate and taking a long swig from his cup. "Planning the wedding?"
Draco scoffed even as he avoided Hermione's gaze, and she felt her cheeks flush pink.
"We were telling her about what happened with Ravenclaw," Draco explained, "not that it's your business. Hermione wants to arrange an interview for the history books."
"But of course," Hermione said, smiling, "you don't believe any of it happened anyway, do you, Zabini?"
"I do," Zabini said begrudgingly, "ever since Theo started going on about how he got to meet Rowena Ravenclaw before she dissolved into nothing." Zabini rolled his eyes. "Which, by the way, Draco, I'm never going to forgive you for not inviting me as well."
"You weren't around," Nott cut in from Zabini's other side, smugly. Hermione received the impression this had been a topic of animosity between the two Slytherins for a while. "It isn't my fault I was there at the time and you weren't."
"He's got a point, Blaise," Draco snickered.
Zabini huffed and leaned back in his seat, sipping from his cup of punch with a dark expression. Draco grinned and met Hermione's eye.
"Would you like some spiked punch?" he asked. Hermione chewed her lip, debating the pros and cons of the idea.
"A small glass, please," she decided, feeling the stress of preparing for the event slip away as she finally relaxed with her friends. Draco stood and walked to the punch bowl, returning with two glasses.
Hermione could taste the firewhisky as she sipped cautiously from her cup, and sank into her seat, Draco's arm around her as he joined in on the quidditch debate, discussing the merits of one chaser formation compared to another with Ginny. Harry, Ron and Zabini seemed to be discussing keeper strategies; Nott and Daphne had vanished.
Hermione found herself relieved that no one expected her to join in the conversation and she merely observed, thrilled to see her friends getting along with Draco and his Slytherin friends.
Neville and Luna joined the table some time later, holding hands, Neville red in the cheeks. Hermione met his sparkling eyes and grinned.
When she and Draco made their way to Gryffindor Tower at the end of the night, a few glasses of punch in, they fell into bed exhausted.
And as Hermione fought the heavy tug at her eyelids, warm in Draco's embrace, the last thought that crossed her mind was that no matter what happened in the past, the future looked pretty bright.