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The Second Wizarding War was at a standoff.
At the Battle of Hogwarts, a young Death Eater had ignited a Fiendfyre that had trapped and destroyed Nagini along with another remaining horcrux. All of the known horcruxes were now destroyed. ( Only Harry knew about his own status as a horcrux) Harry Potter, separated from the others, had fled into hiding, location unknown. Ron Weasley had gone with his family in mourning after the death of Fred. Hermione was also in hiding and none of them knew the others locations.
Voldemort had fled in fear, as he believed that his horcruxes were all gone. He was no longer in control of the Ministry but there were those within that still held his favor. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was one. Under his authority, all members of the Order of the Phoenix were wanted as criminals. And Draco Malfoy was appointed to the position of Auror.
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Draco Malfoy, Auror 2nd Class, sat at his desk in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and threw his feet up onto it. Leaning back, he relaxed into the comfortable leather chair. The smirk on his face said it was a very good day to be Draco Malfoy.
Since completing his training as an Auror, Draco had worked tirelessly to infiltrate into various groups of Order members, learning their plans and locations, then providing the information through his contacts to the Dark Lord. And his cautious approach to his work was about to pay off big.
Yesterday he had received reports from two of his sources. Neither had been particularly important by itself. But as he sifted through the information he had received, he discovered a hint, a clue of astounding import. If he understood the clue correctly, he had the location of the Mudblood, Hermione Granger.
"The question is, do I tell anyone, or do I take her myself?"
It was an insult to his pride that he was 2nd Class at anything. The position of Auror 2nd Class was far beneath him. Taking out the second Most Wanted Criminal single-handedly would almost certainly bring him his full Auror status.
This was an easy choice. He swung his feet to the floor, closed the file, then stood and walked out the door, grabbing his cloak and warding the door as he closed it.
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The crack of apparition was muffled by the insulation built into the walls of the shed behind the house in Hyde Park. As Draco stepped out of the shed, birds flew up out of the tree beside it, a testimony to the quality of that insulation. The house was modest when compared to Malfoy Manor, yet its location in muggle London offered a sense of anonymity. After the years of darkness under the Dark Lord's residency, the Manor was no longer a place Draco could consider "home." Here, there was no memory of fear, no recurring visions of the tortures he and so many others had endured. Here, authority was his, and his alone.
Draco opened the wards and charms that kept his home secure and stepped in the rear entrance, hanging his cloak on the coathook by the door and closing the door. Rajj, his personal elf, appeared immediately.
"Rajj welcomes Master Draco home. What would Master wish for dinner?"
"Something light; A salad, perhaps," Draco replied. "Serve it with a bottle of chardonaisse in my rooms."
"As the Master requires," the elf responded, then disappeared with a small snap.
On his way, he stopped in his study to retrieve his Briarwood pipe and a small bag of tobacco. Though many of his associates smoked cigarettes, Draco considered them plebian, too much a muggle thing. As an heir to one of the noble houses of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he felt that nobility was as much a matter of impression as was birth.
Arriving in his suite, he found his dinner awaiting on a sideboard along with his wine and a dessert pastry. He smiled at the thoughtfulness of his elf. Not that he would ever voice any appreciation.
After finishing his dinner, he settled into his favorite wing-backed chair and proceeded to clean and pack his pipe. Lighting it with the tip of his wand, he sat back and picked up a book he had previously begun to read. In a little while, he let the pipe go out, then marked and closed the book. Deliciously tired and looking forward to the coming day, he undressed and slipped under his duvet. Sleep took him immediately.
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Draco stood in the drawing room of his ancestral home. A couple of trackers had just brought in several people captured in the forest of Dean. Two were familiar -- Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. The third was a badly disfigured dimwit -- probably some orphan she had taken in. His Aunt Bellatrix had asked the tracker what had been found in their possessions and had gone into a rampage when he displayed a sword he had intended to keep as his pay. She had nearly killed him. The sword had been in her vault at Gringotts. She sent the young men to the dungeons, then proceeded to have a little fun with the Mudblood.
"Crucio!" his aunt screamed. Suddenly, his body was wracked with pain. He stood there, watching the girl writhe and scream, but HE felt the pain. His insides spasmed and twisted, his limbs felt as if they were being flayed with burning knives, his lungs felt as if he were breathing smoke from a fire and his head seemed to be in the jaws of a vise. Yet, he did not move or make a sound. He felt the girl scream that she knew nothing of the sword, and he knew she told the truth because his mind was melded with hers. In his own mind, he felt disgust that he should be inflicted with the pain and emotions of a Mudblood.
Abruptly, the pain was gone.
He was standing on the street outside the Ministry, along with a crowd of colleagues, wizards and witches, all cheering and jeering. In the street, a line of Imperiused people, Mudbloods, Half-Bloods, Blood Traitors and Muggles, moving along to the edge of a magic'd hole in the street, into which each fell as the Imperius was removed and the Avada was thrown at them. A roar erupted from the crowd whenever a Mudblood or Blood Traitor fell.
Again, the dream changed.
This time, Draco found himself in a Muggle house. Before him, kneeling, was the Mudblood herself, Hermione Granger. She was defeated and broken. There was no longer defiance in her eyes, only sorrow, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at him. A moment of pity flicked through him. Such a waste -- she was so pretty. Then, revulsion at the very thought. With a snarl, he threw his wand arm forward, shouting "Avada Kedavr…"
Draco awoke, sweating from the intensity of the dream's emotions. Looking at the clock, he realized that the dawn was fast approaching.
"Rajj," he called out. Immediately, the Elf appeared. "What does the Master wish?"
"A glass of cold water, then lay out my better all black clothing and robes. I will wear all black today."
"As the Master requires," the Elf replied and was gone with a snap.
Draco reached into the cupboard and withdrew a flask of firewhisky and a shotglass. He filled the glass and threw it back in a gulp. Replacing the flask and glass, he turned to the reappeared elf and took the water, downing that in a couple of gulps. He then walked into his en-suite and left the Elf to perform his duties.
While Draco showered, he attempted to wash away the dream. He felt nothing but anger and revulsion. Anger that his dream had inflicted upon him the feelings of a Mudblood, and revulsion that he had felt pity for, let alone had considered the non-existent beauty of the creature.
As he stepped from the shower, his feelings changed to a sense of purpose. These were the reasons why these people must be eradicated from the wizarding world. He would not tolerate such dreams, such emotions in his life. He dried himself, did his hair, and went back into his room to dress. When finished, he went to the kitchen where he broke his fast. Then, cloak in arm, he stepped out the back door, reinstated his wards and charms, and walked to the shed.
The crack of apparition heralded Draco's appearance outside the Ministry. As he shook off the disjointed sensations, he noticed that he was standing on the street from his dream. Feeling once again the anger, he turned and stepped briskly into the building. He took the elevator to his floor and walked quickly to his office. Taking down his wards, he walked in and closed the door, reinstating the wards as he did so. He left the shades on the door down and the room dark. "Lumos," he murmured, drawing a small light from the tip of his wand. Quickly, he reviewed his notes and again cast the scrying spell. Sure enough, she was there. The same room as in his dream. Damn this dream.
He threw his cloak around himself and walked out of the building.
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Draco apparated into a hedge a block away from his target. He threw a charm over himself to make himself look like a muggle, then walked to his destination. When he arrived, he found himself looking at a non-descript white 2-story house. Looking around to make sure he was unobserved, he stepped around to the back of the house, checking and identifying the wards as he went. By the time he arrived at the back door, he had identified all of the wards and charms, including the alert charms that would betray any attempt to enter. He chuckled to himself -- she was good, but he was better. Or maybe she was just too tired of running to care anymore?
Slowly and carefully, he dismantled first her alert charms, then the other charms and wards. When his way was cleared, he stepped up to the door and whispered "Alohomora."
He heard the click of the lock. Carefully, he grasped and turned the doorknob, then pushed open the door.
SCREEEEE CLANG CLANG CLANG SCREEE… He hadn't checked for a muggle alarm.
"Bloody Hell," he muttered as he rushed through to the front of the house, making sure that she hadn't escaped. He quickly threw an anti-apparation spell to prevent her from escaping, then rushed through the downstairs and to the steps leading up. Cautiously, wand at the alert, he began making his way up the stairs. Halfway up, he ducked as a spell flashed at him. He threw a spell back, then cast a protego before rushing up the stairs.
The hallway was empty but he could sense a presence of strong magic close at hand. Diving past a doorway, he cast a Confundus charm, then bounced back with a quick Expelliarmus. A wand flew into his hand. Still holding up his Protego charm, he stepped into the room.
It was just as in his dream. He threw back the hood from his cloak. When she recognized him, her legs seemed to give out and she fell to her knees. As she looked into his death-cold eyes, all hope vanished from her face. Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head, still looking up at him. She didn't say a word; She knew there was no need.
He sneered down at her, yet again he felt the pity and the sense of waste that such a gifted, talented and beautiful witch should have to die.
And he remembered it from his dream. As she looked at him through her tears, he threw his wand arm at her and shouted…
"Avada Kedavr…"
And he threw aside his wand.
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Draco Malfoy looked into the teary eyes of Hermione Granger. And burst into tears himself. What he saw before him was the strongest, purest, most courageous person he had ever known, and he saw in himself the filthiest, most foul and loathsome creature he could possibly imagine himself to be. Epiphany.
Hermione was astonished, stunned motionless, watching as he collapsed to his knees. She recovered, stood slowly and walked quietly over to retrieve their wands. Sliding them into her holster, she quietly stepped around in front of him and dropped to her own knees a couple feet away and just watched.
Draco continued kneeling, crying (as the immature boy that he was), screaming "I can't, I can't, I CAN'T..." Yet he was still himself and his first reaction as he perceived her watching him was humiliation. He rebuked her for staying, for not using his wand and apparating away. "STUPID MUDBLOOD, GET OUT OF HERE !" But she didn't move. He stared at her, then dropped his head and the floodgates truly opened. All of the guilt, regret, horror of the last several years, even to the tiniest bits, combined into one massive wave that overwhelmed him, smashed away the pride, the haughtiness, the prejudice and false judgmentalism that had ruled his psyche. And he was left empty of those things, cleansed, as a vase, empty.
Hermione didn't know what to do. Every instinct told her to take his wand and flee. Yet she stayed, watching in a mixture of horror and empathy as her most powerful and personal nemesis self-destructed in front of her.
Eventually, his wails quieted to sobs, broken as he struggled but failed to gain control.
Without conscious volition, Hermione dropped her hands to the floor and moved closer. Through his tears, he watched her, only curiosity rising from his roiled emotions. Slowly, fearfully, she reached out her hand toward his cheek. He didn't stop her. In a sort of wonder, she lifted her other hand to his face and Draco collapsed into her arms, his head nestled between her shoulder and breast, his sobs recommencing. Startled, she froze for a moment, then moved her hands to his back, pulling him in.
The vase is ready, and she is the rose…