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After the war, the wall went up.
If the lands to the north had given Voldemort his power, well—then no one would be allowed to go up there anymore. It made sense at the time. Both magical and Muggle folk agreed they’d be better off. And in the name of unity, they banded together, intermarried.
And talk of magic became merely legend.
But Hermione still remembered, better than most, what a life with magic had been like. Because she also remembered how non-magical her life had been beforehand. She and her friends had formed a little family—the rest of their relatives having been lost to the war. So she and Harry and Ron now lived in a modest house at the edge of town. She called them her brothers, and they might as well have been for all anyone else knew.
Harry was a respectable citizen of the village and earned a living wage by working as a blacksmith. But Ron, bless his soul, had never really recovered from his devastating losses. He’d get trapped in a memory from time to time and couldn’t handle most jobs. He spent most of his time on their porch, whittling little figures from wood. And though Harry always made sure there was food on the table, sometimes it wasn’t enough.
So Hermione had taught herself how to hunt, using magic.
She had hidden her wand beneath the floorboards during the Great Confiscation and now only took it out when she ventured into the forest.
That was where she had made her fatal mistake.
Hermione eyed her captor again. There was something familiar about his icy blonde hair and the grey eyes that peered out at her from behind his mask. He handed her a piece of preserved meat.
“Eat,” he ordered. “You’ll need your strength for the rest of the journey.”
She had tracked a large deer through the forest and had cast her curse, the bright beam of light hitting it squarely in the chest. However, when she went to collect what would be a feast for her family, she noticed something off about the creature. It wasn’t completely natural.
That’s when the tall, masked man had shown himself from behind the trees. He came from beyond the wall, she knew it by the looks of him. The animal was his friend, in Animagus form, and now for killing him, her life was forfeit.
She tried to ignore his warmth, even as it invaded her body. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him as they rode his horse through the dense wood, hoping to bruise him. But he was so strong, so hard. He chuckled.
“I thought magic had been forbidden below the wall.”
She didn’t answer.
His Manor was huge. She had never seen a dwelling so big, with white peacocks that roamed the grounds freely. He showed her to her suite—not the dungeons as she’d been expecting.
“Dinner is at seven,” he said before leaving.
A female servant with a mask resembling a bird came to help her bathe and get ready for dinner, dressing her in the finest gown Hermione had ever seen. It fit her body like a glove and fanned out at the waist. It was paired with an intricate emerald necklace that looked as though it would weigh a ton but sat delicately around her neck as light as a feather. She looked in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. She hadn't felt this beautiful in a long time.
At dinner, her captor was silent as he appraised her. She could see naught but his silver eyes roaming behind the intricate metal mask he wore. In fact, she had noticed masks on all the servants. Was it a strange custom of their kind she was unaware of?
“You clean up nicely, Hermione.” There was a sly tone to his voice that seemed familiar.
“Do I know you?” She took note of his strong hands, gripping the goblet as he took a sip of wine. A signet ring rested on his right hand, a large M in the center.
“In another life, perhaps. My name is Draco.”
Draco Malfoy, she remembered now. A sneering little boy in the time before, when they had learned spells together before the war. He had changed. “And will you not remove your mask in my presence, Lord Draco?”
He cringed. “It’s just Draco, and I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m afraid it’s part of my punishment… for being on the wrong side of the war.”
Hermione nodded and ate her sumptuous meal with no more questions. She had always thought those above the wall had gotten the better deal, allowed to still practice magic and roam free. But maybe that was not the case.
She learned over the course of the next few weeks she had been very mistaken. The people of Malfoy Manor were no better than prisoners. Even their magic was mournful. Except on occasion… she swore she noticed a hint of a smile beneath Draco’s mask. Usually when he was teasing her.
Like now, as he led her through the sweeping corridors, her small hand in his larger one. “What is it?” She giggled a bit as he tugged her down the stairs.
“Just be patient, Granger. You’ll see.”
He covered her eyes as she stepped in front of a pair of ornate gilded doors. “No peeking.”
Her breath hitched at the contact of his warm hands on her skin. If only she could see his face. She felt him lead her inside a room, the echoes of their footsteps telling her it was large. Once they had walked several paces, he removed his hands.
“Surprise.”
It was the largest library she’d ever seen, with shelves upon shelves of books in varying colors and sizes. “Oh, Draco. It’s wonderful.”
He was smiling again, and she had the distinct urge to kiss him. She tamped it down.
“Hermione! Are you alright? We thought you were dead.” Harry and Ron rushed to her side as she stumbled back through the door of their home.
“He let me go,” she murmured, tears rolling down her face. “He let me go, but I have to go back. I have to help him.”
It turned out there was still an evil lurking in the north. The sorceress Bellatrix was the one who had trapped all Voldemort’s former supporters under various curses, biding her time to amass a new army and retake the land to the south, obliterating the wall and everyone in the village.
When Draco had found out her army was on the move, he sent Hermione away. He placed her on a horse and watched her go. She left without question, the unspoken words dying on the tip of her tongue. I love you.
“Come with me.” She ran around the small house, packing a few things, including several weapons.
“We haven’t used magic in ages, Hermione. What do you think we’ll be able to do to help?” Harry said.
“I don’t know, but we have to try. Please. I love him.”
Ron grabbed his trusty axe and looked more lucid than he had in years. “Let’s go then.”
“No!” Hermione cried just as the dagger pierced Draco’s armor.
Their forces had gotten the upper hand, but not without great cost. Bellatrix lay dying, but her final act had been against the one who had betrayed her.
“Go, Granger. Get your friends to safety. You shouldn’t have returned.” He coughed and a trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth.
“Of course I should have. I love you, you idiot.” She cradled his head, her fingers tangling in his soft hair. “And for that reason alone, you aren’t allowed to die. Isn’t that how this works?”
He smiled and sighed, his head falling back as his eyes closed.
“No!” she screamed.
Just then, Hermione felt a wave of magic so powerful ripple through the room. Draco’s mask fell off his face and hit the stone floor with a crash, revealing the beauty she knew must be beneath. A chiseled jaw and aristocratic nose, looking as peaceful as if he were merely asleep.
“Please,” she whispered.
Slowly his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled. “Had you there for a second, didn’t I?”
“You prat!” She raised her fists, about to start beating his chest, but he yanked her down on top of him and kissed her.
Hermione lost herself to the feeling of him warm and very much alive beneath her. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped inside.
“Oi, get a room!” Someone—likely Harry—yelled from across the way.
They broke the kiss, and Draco winked at her. “Excellent idea,” he said as he Apparated them away back to his bedroom in the Manor.