47Summary: Ten years post final battle. Somewhat AU, not DH compliant, ignores some character death, and adds others. Some OOC Draco and Hermoine, but not really since it's AU. Some violence, Lemons in later chapters, hence the rating.
Ten years ago Voldemort was defeated, the Death Eaters scattered, and the Order and the Aurors declared the victory. But in the aftermath of war what happens when the victors inherit the wizarding world? Didn't they listen when everyone said "power corrupts"?
Disclaimer:I don't own Harrry Potter, I'm just glad JK lets me take her characters for an adventure here and there.
It was the first time she had seen him in daylight. He had changed, that was the first thing she thought. He didn't just look older, they were all older, the last of their innocence long gone in a bloody war against the most vicious mad wizard to have ever lived. Did he get some of the worst of it? She thought likely yes, after all, she had a better knowledge than most.
His hair was still brilliant, silky blonde, his features perfectly sculpted as though from the finest alabaster, his body chisled and hard with more muscle than he had had the last time any of them had seem him at the trials after the war was finally won. He was a man now, not a stripling boy with something to prove. His left arm was ablaze with intricate emerald, black and silver tattoo work, all the way from the back of his knuckles to his shoulder. She knew with absolute certainty that it had been done to attempt to disguise the serpent and skull dark mark that was burned into his flesh. She saw the tips of the winged dragon tattoo that marked the inner circle of Voldemorts Death Eaters peeking out of the edges of his sleeveless t-shit and nearly laughed. No way to cover that, disguise it, or change it, it simply was.
She would know.
She had tried everything from spells to Muggle dermabrasion to rid herself of the marks, but nothing worked. Even in death the dark lord still had the last laugh in some respects.
He half turned, and she saw the long, thin scar that drew a line from his forehead to the corner of his eye, all way down his jaw. She'd done it with a blade infused with dark magic because Voldemort said he was too pretty. Nothing in the world would heal that scar now. There were more, she knew, and far more vicious, she'd watched many of them being inflicted and had been forced to carve more than one into his perfect flesh herself to keep up the pretense of loyalty that was all that stood between her and certain death. He'd never made a sound. No matter how severe or sadistic the torture, no matter the duration he had borne every second with bitter fury, a hatred so deep that she thought sometimes it frightened even the Dark Lord himself that he couldn't break him.
Draco Malfoy had never been a stranger to pain, he had his father to thank for that, and hundreds of generations of pureblood Malfoy stubbornness to maintain his resolve. In the end even the avada wasn't enough to kill him.
The trials had been a joke, there was still enough corruption and fear even in the Wizengamot to assure that, and even though they proved he had never become a true Death Eater, that he had worked with the Order all along to bring down Voldemort, family prejudices will out and he was sentenced to ten years with no magic use. If he could do that, all would be, if not forgiven, at least accepted.
He had watched impassively as his mother and father had both been given the Kiss, screaming imprecations at him and the rest of the Order with their final coherent breaths. Only she had noticed the muscle jumping convulsively in his jaw, the minute shudders that coursed over his body, and the seen the unnatural brightness in his eyes. No matter what they had done to him, and to countless others they were the only family he had ever had.
After it was all said and done and the Death Eaters were defeated, Kingsley Shackelbolt was made Minister of Magic, Minerva McGonagall the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had joined the Aurors. She would have thought they were tired of fighting, she surely was, but then, they hadn't really seen the worst.
She thought that in the end Severus and Remus, Tonks and Fred and Arthur and the rest who were lost had been the lucky ones. They were out of it, no more pain, no memories, no having to go on making the pretense of living a normal life.
She had been hailed along with the heroes at first until the Daily Prophet had begun to get the details of what she and the other spies had had to do to stay alive in Voldemorts camp. Thank God Severus was dead, they would have crucified him, she though sadly. He had been one of the best and bravest men she had ever known. They had found one another in that hell of a world and taken moments of brilliance. She envied him the escape, and hoped that her love had at least helped to heal some of the scars on his heart. But that was a long time ago, and the pain had long since faded to a bittersweet ache belonging to a person who no longer really existed.
After the stories were released, the headlines of "Voldemorts Whore" and "Death Eater Head Girl?" shouting from every newsstand, the tide of public opinion had begun to turn. Her refusal to go public with a disclaimer didn't help her cause and soon she found herself nearly the pariah that the families of the former Death Eaters were, but even in that group she didn't belong, not with pureblood witches and warlocks, oh no. The pressure from the ministry had gotten to everyone, soon she didn't see Harry or Ron very much, Ginny didn't call. Luna attempted to keep her connected, sweet, non judgemental Luna whose loyalty and trust had not faded or flagged even once during the entire mess, but Hermoine couldn't bring her down with her, and she was too smart to ignore how things were going.
There were no job offers following school for her save one to teach at Durmstrang that she couldn't bring herself to even reply to. Her attempt at opening a bookshop failed miserably as every witch and warlock on Diagon Alley refused to enter her premises. In the end she did the only thing she knew how, she fought again. She collected bounties on werewolves, vampires, and murders. In between she went back to the Muggle world to lick her wounds and forget. And that was where she found him.
Draco had possibly been even better at falling off the map than she had been. His families wealth gave him every means needed to disappear, and he had done so, fading off the notice of the wizarding world so quietly that she thought perhaps she was almost the only one who noticed.
She tried to do the same.
Then the Ministry passed the marriage laws, and now there wasn't a choice. No more hunting murderers in the night, she had been assigned to Goyle as a wife, mudbloods to purebloods, all chosen by the ministry if you didn't cooperate. This time she ran from them. And now that they'd taken even that from her, it was time to start taking things back.
She had something that belonged to him now, though, something she thought he might want back, and she thought that she might barter it for his help. But that was wrong, too. And if she had to do this again, it was time to remember all the way, the priciples, maybe even morals. But she was at a loss as to how to approach him. Fighting on the same side of a war didn't necessarily make people trust one another.