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PROLOGUE

There was once a wizard king named Albus who ruled the mighty and magical kingdom of Gryffindor. Despite his considerable power, his throne was challenged as he and his queen, the wise Minerva, grew old without an heir. One long-awaited day, they welcomed a daughter—a princess they named Hermione.

The infant was met with joy by all the kingdom. Though she charmed everyone with her dark eyes and her wild curls, it was the bright spark of magic that manifested at her birth that hinted at her future greatness.

Nobility from neighbouring nations flocked to Gryffindor to offer their gifts and well-wishes. Among them was the widowed Queen Narcissa of Slytherin, and her young son, Prince Draco. The baby laughed as the toddling prince gifted her a treasured family heirloom: an enchanted heart pendant necklace in purest silver.

But unknown to all, a nefarious plan was underway.

Shunned by all for his curse of lycanthropy, Lord Fenrir Greyback had fallen destitute and grown increasingly desperate. Hermione’s birth had thrown a wrench in the werewolf's plans. He had long been preparing to conquer Gryffindor Castle by means of the Dark Arts.

One night when the moon was full and the kingdom was asleep, Greyback and his lover, the mad Lady Bellatrix Lestrange, infiltrated Gryffindor Castle. Finally he reached the nursery, where Queen Minerva was lulling the princess to sleep. She shielded her child from the beast’s attack, falling in a heap on the floor. Greyback laughed cruelly as he turned to take Hermione’s life.

King Albus swept in and hit him with a volley of Slashing Curses. But Greyback escaped, never to be seen again. Lady Lestrange was captured and sentenced to life in Azkaban.

The grieving King Albus resolved to protect his kingdom and the child he loved. He warded his castle tight, keying it to his daughter’s heart. Once Hermione grew into her magic, she would begin a childhood of lessons at the neighbouring Kingdom of Slytherin, a stronghold of the magical arts in its own right. Until then, he would keep her safe.

CHAPTER 1: THIS IS NOT MY IDEA, PART I

SLYTHERIN CASTLE, SUMMER ONE, SEVEN YEARS LATER

Prince Draco did not want to be here. He was nine years old, practically a man! He had more important things to do than to greet his mother’s silly guests! But Queen Narcissa had impressed the importance of this visit upon him for weeks, so he trudged down to the courtyard of Slytherin Castle to say hello to some princess he hadn’t seen since they were both in diaper linens. He hid behind his mother’s voluminous skirts as the royal entourage from Gryffindor drew in.

Word around the castle was that perhaps King Albus meant to ask for his mother’s hand in marriage. She was widowed young, after all, and King Albus too had lost his wife. So it was with a scowl that Draco watched the bearded king kiss her hand and say, “Dear Narcissa. Lovely as ever.”

His mother curtseyed deeply. “Dear, dear Albus. It’s been years!”

Draco sidestepped her skirts with disdain.

“And who might this strapping young man be?” King Albus winked. “Young Prince Draco, no doubt.”

Draco clenched his fists and scowled harder.

Albus carried a little girl down from his steed. Narcissa greeted her first: “Welcome to our fair kingdom, young Princess.”

Albus smiled warmly at his child, a girl of around seven with the biggest head of curls Draco had ever seen. She looked up owlishly at her father, who encouraged her to step forward. 

Draco's own mother pushed him towards her, too. “Go on, Draco.”

“Mother!” His ears grew hot. Could she be more embarrassing!

“Draco.” Her tone brooked no opposition.

Gritting his teeth, Draco stomped towards the girl with wild hair. “Hello, Princess Hermione.” Just as they practised. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you, Prince Draco!” She dipped into a perfect curtsey.

He turned away before she could rise.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” his mother chided him.

Grumbling, Draco marched back and grabbed Princess Hermione’s hand. It was damp and small in his, just like all girls seemed to be tiny and helpless.

Ugh! And he had to kiss it!

He sneered, catching sight of Hermione’s face. Her nose was similarly wrinkled. She should be honoured he was even touching her! He was a prince! He would be king someday!

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his puckered lips to meet the back of her hand.

“Yuck!” he cried, wiping his lips on his tunic sleeve. And he was supposed to entertain her all summer? He bet she didn’t do anything besides prissy princess things!

Hermione wiped her hand on her dress… then pulled her wand out and pointed it at him.

“Mother!” Draco cried for the second time.

“Father,” Hermione whined.

“Draco,” Narcissa warned. “Mind your manners. Princess Hermione will be your friend for the summer. Won’t that be nice?”

Gods, he would rather be blessed with dragon pox.

“Hermione,” Albus said, “Prince Draco here will be your companion in learning Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. You would do well to thank him for his hospitality.”

Fine. That’s how it was going to be.

“So happy you could come,” Draco said in a sardonic tone.

“So happy to be here,” the princess simpered back. She looked just as eager to flee as he was.

This was not his idea of fun.

---

Hermione clenched her wand tightly. Prince Draco was the worst! Just because he was two years older than her, he thought he was better at every single one of their lessons. But Lord Black and Master Lupin had tested her skill some weeks ago and determined that she could learn at the same level as Draco. That seemed to irk the conceited prince greatly, and when he wasn’t tossing his pretty blond hair around, he was using their every duelling session to try and prove he could outdo her. Luckily she had gotten quite good at the Bat Bogey Hex, and she used it on him with great gusto every chance she got.

Today, Master Lupin had instructed them on disarming one another. Hermione had beaten Draco three to one when he lost his patience and gave chase, conjuring ropes and snakes around her ankles. Hermione decided she would give as good as she got as they sprinted after one another through the colonnade.

It was only lucky for Draco that their parents were also walking through the courtyard. Unwilling to get into trouble, Hermione signalled him to shut up so she could trounce him in silence. Over his grunts, however, she overheard her father and Queen Narcissa agreeing over grown-up matters—something about joining the kingdoms of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, and Draco rammed into her from behind.

“Ouch!” she hissed.

“You did that on purpose!”

“Hush! Can't you hear what they're talking about?” Hermione hunched down, her petticoats gathering at her ankles. “Is Father going to marry your mother?”

Draco stiffened. “That seems to be the word around the castle.”

“They certainly seem to like one another.” Hermione screwed her face into a grimace. “But then I'd be stuck with you all the time!”

That set Draco off. “Gross!” he bellowed, pulling on her curls.

“Hey!” Hermione chased after the stupid prince, turning his white blond tresses different colours until they found themselves weaving in between their parents, who pulled them apart with amusement.

“The children seem to get along quite nicely,” Narcissa chuckled.

“It’s our good parenting, naturally,” Albus said, a twinkle in his eye.

“And politics. Draco’s quite a catch, you know.” 

“As is my Hermione. The children may yet come to hold each other in great esteem.”

Hermione lunged for Draco, who seemed to pick up on the same horrid thing as she did. She hexed him with as much magic as she could muster, and his hair coiled up like hers. Master Flitwick would be proud, she thought.

Draco touched his strands in horror and then retched dramatically.

“Such fun!” Queen Narcissa laughed as she led Hermione’s father away.

—

GRYFFINDOR CASTLE, SUMMER FIVE

“Good heavens, child,” King Albus beseeched through his phoenix Patronus, “don’t dawdle. We can’t keep Draco waiting.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked around her bedroom, where her books and clothes lay strewn about. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She had grown gangly over the last year, and her hair was unrulier than ever. And were those two new spots on her face? 

As if the vain Prince Draco needed more of her insecurities to poke fun at this year. It was wholly unfair that he had stupidly perfect hair and the clear skin to go with it. Worse, Prince Draco knew he was handsome. Hermione cursed his pretty grey eyes and his stupid smirk. She consoled herself that perhaps it was his only advantage when she could match or best him in every class except Potions. Just the thought of enduring another summer of his cruelty made her dread the trip to Wiltshire that much more.

She spoke to the Patronus: “I haven’t packed or washed my hair. But do we really have to? You know I get seasick!” That last bit was a lie.

Soon it returned with another message. “If you come quickly, I will expand your library by a wing in the autumn.”

Hermione bit her lip. Her father drove a hard bargain. She braided her hair into two neat plaits and waved her wand at her belongings. They organised themselves into trunks that waiting servants Apparated onto the king's ship.

“Do it for the books, Hermione,” she encouraged herself, and stepped out of her room.

—

SLYTHERIN CASTLE, SUMMER FIVE

Draco was in a foul mood. He knew Princess Hermione was arriving today, and had spent all morning hexing his crude drawings of her into ashes. His mother had caught him and admonished him before insisting he accompany her to the docks.

Thankfully, his best friend, Lord Theodore of Nott was already there, if only to tease him about his mother's less-than-secret plans to marry him off to that toothy, swotty girl.

“Think she’ll be any different than the last time?” Theo asked.

“Worse, I bet.”

They were fourteen now, he and Theo both. Surely they were too old to be badgered by the princess all summer long.

“We’ll dodge her at every turn, if we must,” Theo said with mock gravitas.

King Albus, the old fart, disembarked the Gryffindor ship first. Narcissa rushed to meet him, and Draco held back in distaste.

“There she is,” Theo whispered wickedly. Draco was already looking at the skinny figure sulking on the gangplank. She’d grown taller this year, and the boys’ clothes she favoured made her look all the more awkward. She tugged at her oversized doublet and crossed her arms, looking everywhere but at the dock.

Theo nudged him. “Watch this.”

“Theo, don’t!” Draco made a grab for his friend’s wand, but it was too late. A tomato from a nearby cart went flying and hit the princess squarely on the chin.

The crowd gasped in horror.

As the queen and king turned to look, Princess Hermione deftly cleaned herself up with her wand, and with another flick, sent Theo flying into the sea.

“Hermione!” King Albus boomed.

“Draco! Theodore!” Queen Narcissa cried.

Theo was promptly fished out of the water, but Draco’s eyes were trained on the princess. She was seething. The cityfolk would definitely gossip. It was going to be another marvellous summer.

---

Hermione resisted the urge to scream. The boys were going to be boys, huh?

All summer long, Draco and Theo tried to elude her as soon as lessons let up. It was hardly her idea of a good time—she didn’t even really want to keep up with them. Their immature antics simply made her blood boil. The same way Hermione could do Transfiguration and Charms better than them, she wanted to prove she could run as fast, climb as high, shoot as well, and play games as roughly. Unfortunately, the boys finally chanced upon the one thing she detested even more than sailing on a ship.

“She can’t fly!” Theo cackled from twenty feet in the air. His broom rocked, and Hermione’s heart hammered with alarm. Stupid boys! They were going to get themselves killed!

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Draco smirked from atop his own broom. “Afraid of heights?”

“No. I just think this is idiotic,” Hermione said primly. A broomstick provided by Draco’s elf, Dobby, lay uselessly at her feet. “I can fly just fine.” She had never even touched one of those wild contraptions in her life.

“Then why don’t you join us?” Theo taunted.

“Perhaps I have better things to do.”

“Oh, yes, Princess,” Draco teased, “go on back to your precious books. Surely one of them will teach you how to fly better than getting on a broomstick.”

Hermione narrowed her gaze at him. How difficult could this be? She was already good at everything else. With a huff, she picked up the broomstick and mounted it the way she had seen them do.

“Wait. Careful now,” Draco said suddenly, his voice coloured with concern as he flew towards her. Hermione couldn’t stand it! She squeezed her eyes shut and kicked off as hard as she could… sending her broom careening towards the sky and straight into the two boys above her.

She barely had time to scream. She collided hard with the pair, and the three of them fell gracelessly to the ground below.

The last thing she heard was poor Dobby's frightened, anguished squeal. When she came to, she found herself surrounded by royal healers. This really wasn’t her idea of fun.

—

Draco winced in pain as bones all over his body cracked and reassembled themselves. The bone-regrowing potion that his godfather, Lord Snape, had sent was not only disgusting, but it was also excruciating to endure. Draco envied Theo, who was out cold beside him. If only they hadn’t goaded Princess Hermione into attempting to fly his third-favourite broom! He had realised she didn’t know how to do it, but he didn’t think she would actually be dumb enough to try!

Hermione clearly had something to prove, but Draco hadn’t a clue what that was. He’d met plenty of noble girls in autumn and winter and spring, all of whom seemed perfectly content to sit in their poufy dresses and giggle and sew and flirt with him. Why couldn't Hermione be like them? Why would she insist on tailing him and Theo? Escaping her was an activity in itself, and an exhausting one at that.

There was no way she even liked him, not as a potential future husband (he shuddered heavily at the thought), and not even as a friend.

Were they friends? Draco certainly spent enough time with Hermione from their summers together to have learned a few things about her.

For one, she liked their lessons. She was a voracious reader, and rather quiet until he provoked her. Which, in all honesty, was a hobby of his. She was far too easy to rile up about anything and everything, from her magical prowess, to her teeth, to her hair, which she had taken to braiding up tight. That was a shame. Draco rather liked her crazy hair. He also liked seeing her furious. It was cute.

But not that cute!

He figured she was lonely. With no one but books, the house-elves, and their tutors to keep her company each summer, she must have wanted… to spend time with him?

Draco scoffed. What a ridiculous idea! She was annoying, and regrowing his bones was far less painful than being forced to spend time with her. And that was that. 

He picked up a book on tactical flight manoeuvres and imagined the kind autumn day when she would sail away for the rest of the year.

—

Meanwhile, a knock sounded on Hermione’s door.

“Come in,” she called, wiping her tears away with her good hand. Her father had already come by to see her, and upon noting she was in good enough health, had given her the sternest talking to she had ever received in her life. The knowledge she had disappointed her father was worse than the pain of regrowing her bones. Yet it would not do for anyone else to catch her in a moment of shame and weakness.

She didn’t expect her next visitor to be Queen Narcissa.

Hermione leaned back against her pillows with a sigh. Perhaps she did deserve another scolding.

To her added embarrassment, the queen looked about, surveying her messy room. Hermione wished her wand hand hadn’t been injured. That way she could have cleaned up the books and clothes that littered the space.

“I’m sorry for the mess, Your Majesty,” she bit out. “I wasn’t expecting company, and”—she held up her broken hand—“I’m unable to tidy up. I can call for a servant—”

“No need, my cygnet.” With a flick of her wand, Narcissa set Hermione’s belongings in order. She walked over and sat on her bed. “Just needed a mother’s touch in here.”

Hermione wouldn’t know a thing about mothers. She looked down at her bandaged hands, reminding herself that Narcissa was here about her own son.

“I’m very sorry for my behaviour,” she said. “And for hurting Prince Draco and Lord Nott.”

Narcissa was quick to reassure her. “It’s quite all right. They’ve been in worse scrapes, and will be well before you know it. As will you. But that’s not what I’ve come to speak to you about.”

“It’s not?” Hermione squirmed under Narcissa's scrutiny.

“You’ve done wonderfully, you know,” the queen said finally. “And so has your father, given the circumstances. You’re an exceptional young lady. An exceptional witch.”

“But?” Hermione asked bitterly.

Narcissa gave her leg a gentle pat. “You have to know that you are not lacking, Hermione. I’ve watched you keep up with my son and Theodore despite their boyhood foolishness. But you are no fool. You don’t have to do any of that to prove your own worth. Not in Slytherin, not in Gryffindor, nor anywhere else. You simply need to let yourself bloom.”

So that’s what this was about.

Hermione huffed. “If you mean you’d like for me to sit still and wear dresses—”

“You misunderstand, my dear,” Narcissa tutted. “I believe you can achieve anything you set your mind to. And one day, you will make a most powerful queen, like Minerva.”

Mother? Father never spoke of her. It pained him too much. Hermione yearned to know more. “What was she like?”

“She was... regal. Headstrong, but kind. And so very brilliant. You were her dearest treasure. She would have been so proud of you, Princess.” Narcissa tilted Hermione’s chin up. “You have her eyes too, you know. Brown, and beautiful, and bright.”

Hermione had always thought her eyes muddy and plain, especially compared to her father’s twinkling blue ones. They had to be her mother’s. She felt them prick with tears.

Narcissa continued, “What I am saying is, you must believe that your worth lies above proving yourself to silly boys who do not yet see it. You are a diamond in the rough, and you must polish yourself if you are to shine for the people you will someday lead. And, yes, presenting yourself well is part of that.”

“But I don’t know how to do that.” Admitting it made Hermione feel impossibly small. She wasn’t beautiful like all the other girls her age, and she didn’t know a thing about being a noblewoman.

“It will take some time,” Narcissa assured her, “to fully grow into yourself. I would be honoured to help. I’ve always wanted a daughter!”

And Hermione dearly wished for a mother. But it occurred to her that the queen might have a motive. “Forgive me, but… is it because you expect me to marry Draco someday?”

“You and Draco are old enough to understand that it would be ideal for both our kingdoms for such a union take place. But your father and I also know it’s a lot to ask of you.”

“Why don’t you and Father marry instead?" Hermione asked petulantly. "I wouldn’t mind.”

And then Draco would be her stepbrother. It was still an unappealing prospect, but still better than if he were to be her husband.

“We are good friends, Albus and I. But we are also far too old, and still very much in love with our spouses. Taken from us as they were. We are thinking about the future.”

Hermione's heart sank. Queen Narcissa had famously married for love, and she understood it completely. So much so that she ventured, “I suppose that’s what I would want someday, too. To love my future husband. I want to marry someone who loves me for me.” Awkward, and bookish, and strange as she was.

That she thought Prince Draco would never be that man did not necessitate verbalisation. He had all the makings of a Prince Charming: a handsome face, a strong body, a brilliant mind. But he had none of the kindness or feeling that she might have wanted from her partner in life.

“And that’s what you deserve,” Narcissa said firmly. “Your father and I only have Draco’s and your best interests at heart, and those of our kingdoms. Admittedly, we do get carried away in the potential. But should fate have other plans, know that our kingdoms will always be on friendly terms. Draco… it does not seem like it all the time, but he harbours a great deal of respect for you, Hermione. He, and Wiltshire, will always be your allies.”

---

THE KINGDOM OF GRYFFINDOR, AUTUMN EIGHT

“You grow lovelier every time I see you, Highness.” Madam Malkin curtseyed as Hermione entered her dress shop in Diagon Alley.

Hermione waved the seamstress’ compliment off with a blush. “You’re far too kind, Madam Malkin.”

“Funny, my clients complain I am far too honest. But if you are looking for a negative, here it is: your breasts have grown too generous for your bodice.”

Hermione gaped before snapping her mouth shut. A little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Queen Narcissa’s chided her on her lack of finesse. She was fifteen, and she really ought to have mastery over her expressions by now. “Are my orders ready, then?”

“Indeed, they are. Would you like to fit them?”

As Madam Malkin laced her into the first dress, a simple periwinkle number for warm weather, she commented, “These patterns Queen Narcissa sent for you are simply divine. She is quite invested in you, and these dresses are proof!”

“She is doing me a great kindness. My own queen mother is no longer around to help me navigate these strange waters.” Hermione hoped that would nip the chatty seamstress’ questions in the bud.

To no avail.

“Poor dearie,” Madam Malkin tutted. “Well, you’re in very good hands now, wouldn’t you say?”

Hermione looked at her reflection. She loved the dress, and she loved how she felt in it. “Yes. You are the best, Madam Malkin.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean me!” she tittered. “Queen Narcissa! Why, all the kingdom knows that you and her son are destined to be wedded. Tell me, is Prince Draco very handsome?”

Hermione grimaced. Suddenly she no longer felt like trying on dresses, especially if she was to wear them in the summer. But she conceded, “He is. But you are mistaken. We are merely allies.”

—

THE KINGDOM OF SLYTHERIN, WINTER 8

“Pardon me, Your Highness.” Dobby bowed deeply before Draco, his large ears casting a shadow upon the book he was reading. Draco grinned, knowing full well there were more sensible places to read than right before the fireplace.

“What is it, Dobby?”

“Your books from King Albus have arrived.”

Draco perked at the news. The king had grown on him over the last few years, and had lately been something of a mentor. He had promised in his last correspondence to send over some additions to Draco’s growing library.

“Bring them to me!” he exclaimed, before adding, “Please.”

Amusing recollections of a certain princess's indignation suffused Draco's thoughts, and he let out a small snicker.

“Right away, Sir.”

The collection was delightfully varied, and Draco was pleased that the old man had good taste. He eyed with interest a set of books that looked well-loved—fiction, but political in their leanings. He resolved to read those first. Dobby then handed him a letter bearing King Albus’ seal.

Prince Draco,

Happy holidays. As promised, I am sending you some literature from the great authors of the continent. I'd like to think this a well-rounded selection, among which are some of my personal favourites: Hogwarts: A History; Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them; The Tales of Beedle the Bard; The Body of Spells; and a few more current novels about ministries and mystery (and romance) which you young ones all seem to love. You need not worry about returning them, for I have purchased Hermione new editions and she will only notice when it is too late.

Let me know which ones you liked best when we see one another next summer.

Until then, my son.

Albus R

Draco stared at the sign-off. My son. 

And R as in rex, to remind him that he was receiving mail not from a friend, but from the king of his ally nation. His potential father-in-law. Gods, he had forgotten. And the very books he was eyeing—he should have known they had belonged to the Princess. His excitement faded somewhat, though at least he’d have something to talk about with her when summer rolled around. He stared into the dancing flames with a sigh, thinking about the riot of curls he had a habit of tugging.

Chapter Text

THE KINGDOM OF SLYTHERIN, SUMMER 9

Hermione took a breath, smoothing down her summer dress. It was the periwinkle one, and today was the first time she got to wear it. She worried that the carriage ride to Slytherin Castle would wrinkle it, though it wouldn’t be any worse than if she had ridden horseback. She missed the feeling of being astride a horse as it galloped freely, but as Queen Narcissa had taught her, ladies only rode side-saddle.

So she fussed, mentally reviewing the rules of etiquette and politesse that the Queen of Slytherin had imparted over the last few years. 

“Are you feeling well, my child?” Albus took her hand.

“Yes,” Hermione assured him. “Father, I’m hardly a child anymore.”

“You’re right.” He sounded wistful. “This is your last year of magic schooling.”

“My last year studying with Prince Draco, you mean.” Her learning would continue, as it had over the years she spent back home.

“Yes. He’s proven a fine peer in academics, has he not?”

“He is very bright,” Hermione conceded. “He's challenged me constantly. Unfortunately, he's preferred to do so by running his mouth.”

King Albus chuckled. “The boy has a good heart. He is far better at writing than he is at expressing himself out loud.”

Hermione knew her father had been exchanging letters with Prince Draco. Much like Hermione had come to see Narcissa as a mother figure, the prince had come to respect her father as his own. Still, he had never seemed to reserve any of that regard for her. She closed her eyes, sighing softly. “You don’t need to sell it so hard.”

“He’s grown up some,” her father insisted.

“That remains to be seen. But I am willing to be civil, Father, if he is.”

“Then I now know you’ve grown up, as well.”

Civil, Hermione reminded herself. That’s all she would aim for. This summer, she and Prince Draco would finish their education. Then she would leave Slytherin, cementing the prince as her equal and ally.

Soon, Slytherin Castle came into view in the distance. As Hermione looked out the window, she could sense her father staring at her contemplatively.

“Hermione?” King Albus reached into his pocket, taking out a silver chain. “You’re not a little girl anymore. I think it’s time I gave this to you to wear.”

---

“Here she comes, here she comes! Draco’s princess!” Theo rubbed his hands together. He had gathered Draco's visiting friends by the courtyard to see Gryffindor's royal entourage roll in. Adrian and Marcus turned their heads disinterestedly towards the carriage, which was flanked by the late King Lucius's large, winged Abraxans.

Draco shoved Theo. “Shut up. There’s no way I’m going to marry her,” he grumbled as the Slytherin entourage bowed towards King Albus, who had alighted.

“Are you sure, mate?” Adrian craned his neck. “Because if you don’t want her, I wouldn’t mind an introduction.”

“Have you even seen her? Are we talking about—” Draco whipped his head towards the carriage as Princess Hermione was assisted out of it. “—the same… girl…?”

In a pretty blue dress that skimmed her lithe figure, she was nearly unrecognisable. From where Draco stood, he could see that her skin had cleared, and her hair was braided loosely to one side. Around her neck, she wore a silver, heart-shaped necklace that dangled enticingly over her décolletage. It looked familiar. His heart gave a little thrum.

Theo seemed just as gobsmacked as he. They watched as the princess curtseyed to his mother, who then pulled her into a tight embrace. The queen touched her necklace, and Hermione giggled, revealing a smile she’d grown into as well. Draco spied Marcus’s expression widen with interest, but before he could put him in his place, Queen Narcissa beckoned them over with an imperious little wave.

Draco let his feet carry him across the courtyard, only vaguely aware of his friends following behind him.

“King Albus,” he bowed. Then he turned to the sovereign’s daughter. “Princess,” he breathed.

He was a full head taller than her now, giving him an interesting view down her dress. Had those been there before?

She wrinkled her nose at him lightly. “Prince Draco,” she greeted in return, dropping into a quick half curtsey.

“Th-these are my friends,” Draco stammered. He had nearly forgotten. “Marcus, the Earl Flint; and the Honourable Adrian Pucey. They are visiting for the summer.”

They bowed to King Albus, and Draco's stomach flipped watching Hermione’s face light up in a smile as they extended their hands to her.

His stomach flips melted into acid to see Marcus lay a gallant peck upon her hand. The acid roiled in fury when Adrian crooned, “Most enchanted, Your Highness. Draco’s stories do not do your beauty justice.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Hermione said, blushing. Her voice carried a gentle tone that Draco’s ears were unused to. “It will be lovely to have more company this summer.”

“And you remember Theo,” Draco cut in.

“Hello, Lord Nott,” Hermione extended her hand to him, as well. Theo blushed as he pressed a wet kiss upon it. She took her hand back with a wry grimace and wiped it surreptitiously on the back of her dress.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the reminder. There was the princess he knew. Dressed up though she was, she could not have changed that much.

Even if she had gotten rather… pretty.

Hermione was getting on Draco's nerves. He almost preferred it when she had spent all her free time after lessons harassing him and Theo, but this year, she seemed content to meet him for class and go off on her own, no doubt to flirt with Adrian, or Marcus, or both. At their next Potions lesson, he wanted to let her know that he was on to her.

“What are you wearing?” Draco sneered.

Her robes were a deep navy that brought out the caramel tone of her skin.

Did that mean she favoured Adrian? Navy was Pucey’s House colour.

Didn’t she know she had to focus on their potion? Lord Snape would not be pleased.

Hermione looked down at her attire. “These are my Potions robes. They cover more skin to protect me from dangerous ingredients.” She cocked a brow at him as if to say, “Obviously.”

“Her Highness is wise.” Lord Snape entered the room, his own black robes billowing behind him. “I would advise you to do the same, Draco.”

The Honourable Severus Snape, Draco’s godfather, was a Potions Master—the very best on the continent. He was a titled old bachelor, but without Potions resources in his own lands, he had agreed to move to Slytherin at Queen Narcissa’s invitation. Here he enjoyed their rare ingredient stores in exchange for teaching Draco, and in the summers, Hermione as well.

Draco scowled as Lord Snape lectured and quizzed them about the nature of today’s project, Felix Felicis. Hermione had an answer to everything, as usual, and their Master indulged her despite rolling his eyes at her enthusiasm.

Of course, Draco knew about Liquid Luck, too. Hermione just always had to one-up him. Now, however, he couldn’t help but watch her delicate hands as she deftly sliced some horseradish and dropped it into the ashwinder egg that was already simmering in their cauldron. He squeezed his squill bulb too hard and had to start over.

“Alright there, Prince Draco?” Hermione murmured.

“Mind your own business, Princess,” he snapped, stirring the cauldron vigorously as his cheeks warmed. It wouldn't kill him to be nice, but he didn't know how to do it. He'd been mean to her for so long, and the only option seemed to be to lean into it.

She ignored him, going on to pare the knobby growth on their Murtlap. Then she asked him to excuse her as she added it to their mixture and adjusted the heat.

It was nearly lewd how she bit her lip when she measured a tincture of thyme and dropped a dash into the cauldron.

He felt warm when she passed him a stirring rod and instructed him to go slowly. She meant stirring, of course.

Clockwise.

Right?

“Focus, Draco,” Lord Snape droned, unimpressed.

Hermione ground up Occamy eggshell and smirked as she pushed the dust into the cauldron.

“Add heat now, and a just sprinkle of rue,” their Master instructed.

Draco fumbled with the burner. He sneezed at the powder. Beside him, Hermione huffed with impatience.

“You seem preoccupied today, Prince Draco. May I?”

“No!” he snarled, blocking her from the potion with his frame. He stirred the cauldron vigorously, and heated it one last time. He waved his hand over the potion in a figure eight and said the incantation: “Felixempra!”

The potion bubbled a ghastly, turbid brown before shifting—the moment of truth—into a mellow, molten gold. Draco exhaled with relief and pride, and Hermione shut the heat off. Droplets of the potion jumped up at intervals, like goldfish leaping from a bowl. Another textbook success. He met eyes with Hermione, who beamed at him in the glow of the happy Felix Felicis. His own heart felt like soaring then, too. 

‘We make a good team,’ he wanted to say.

“Er, not bad, Princess,” he said instead.

She bit her cheek, probably to hold back a retort. She had carried them today, they both knew that.

Lord Snape stepped over to examine their work. “Full marks,” he drawled. He bade Hermione to measure out two small shatter-proof vials’ worth. “You may each have one. Save it, and use it wisely. Do not grow overconfident or reckless. Enjoy it slowly, and it should last you a few hours.”

To Draco’s secret sadness, Snape Vanished the rest of the potion and dismissed them.

Hermione helped the house-elves clean up their station, and Draco lingered awkwardly, fingering the bottle in his hands.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Your hair is a frizzy mess,” Draco blurted. Except it wasn’t. Every lock was in place, tucked neatly into her braid. He wanted to undo her ribbon, and unleash her curls to look wild as he remembered.

Hermione merely smirked. “You need new material, Prince Draco,” she said before floating out of the door. He overheard her surprised, “Oh, hello, Marcus! Have you been waiting very long?” and fought the urge to throttle Lord Flint at her casual address.

The first time outside of lessons that Draco managed to catch Hermione alone, she was in his section of the castle library.

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

Hermione whirled around. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” she sniffed. “You, on the other hand…” She clutched an old book tighter to her chest. 

Draco recognised it immediately, and said, “I know how it looks, Princess, and while I do apologise that your favourite books are in my possession, I must blame your father for purloining and sending them to me in the first place.”

“Father? I searched for weeks! I thought a servant had taken them.”

“He thought I’d like them. And he was right.”

Hermione’s face brightened. “Really? How long did it take you to read them? Which one did you like the most? What did you think about—”

“Easy, Princess. One at a time.”

She shrugged. “I was merely surprised. I didn’t know you could read.”

Draco laughed. “If I didn’t read, Princess, then explain this mess.” His books lay strewn about in piles, some toppled over and many out of place. 

“Perhaps you were building play forts with Theo again.” Hermione turned her back to him and began directing his books to their proper shelves with her wand.

He lowered himself into his favourite reading chair and watched. “We’re building real ones now, by the coast.” 

“Then in this case, I suppose you are simply a slob.”

He smirked, knowing from his mother’s stories that the state of her book collection was not much better.

He wished she would look at him. “Princess.”

“Prince Draco.” She stubbornly faced away.

He wished she would call him by his name, without the title. She had not done so, not once since she arrived. “I have a question.”

“Then ask it.”

“Why is it, Hermione, that you address Theo, Adrian and Marcus so casually, while you always attach my title to my name? We’re of age. It’s hardly proper. Do you like any of them?”

She whirled around. “I don’t!” 

There she is. Draco's heart hammered with glee.

More softly, she added, “Just the same way you don’t like me.”

Draco was torn between relief that she did not seem to favour any of his friends, and disappointment that she did not seem to favour him, either. He pressed on. “So… by that logic, you only call me ‘Prince Draco’ because you like me.”

She raised a brow at him. “Is that why you insist on calling me ‘Princess’?”

Draco snapped his mouth shut.

“I thought so,” Hermione said. Before Draco could say anything else, she stalked out of the library.

Eyeing his tidied shelves with shame, he resolved to send her a few books she might enjoy.

—

Queen Narcissa was right, Hermione decided. Boys were not worth the trouble. Draco and his friends were playing a strange game on brooms that she didn’t wish to devote the energy to understanding. But seeing as they had all insisted she come and watch them toss a ball about mid-air, she sat in the shade with Dobby, who would not stop plying her with sweets. At first, she appreciated how Draco’s thighs looked in his breeches, and how the wind looked in his hair. But then he caught her looking, and blew a kiss at her. So she contented herself feeding the flock of swans in the nearby pond before settling down to read the book Prince Draco had lent her. Why he had lent it to her was uncertain, but she was enjoying it far more than she wanted to give him credit for.

“Did you see that, Princess?” Adrian called, and Hermione fought the urge to sigh aloud.

“Yes!” Her eyes hadn’t left the page. “Marvellous, Adrian!”

“Marvellous, Adrian!” Draco mimicked. 

It was truly a miracle she had not yet snapped. Hermione got up and thanked Dobby for his attention.

“Leaving already, Princess?” Draco asked, and she looked up at him warily.

“Yes. It’s quite warm out.”

“I can cast a Cooling Charm for you,” Marcus offered.

“No, allow me.” Adrian countered. The boys raced towards her. Theo and Draco straggled behind, the latter looking supremely irritated.

“I can do it myself!” Hermione cried. The boys looked at her as though she had grown another head. Except for Draco, who was now smirking. Handsome idiot.

“I mean, you do not need to stop your sport on my account.” Hermione pulled a smile. “I’d also best be going. The Queen asked to speak with me this afternoon about an upcoming trip to town with His Highness.”

“What? Me?” Draco pointed at his face dumbly.

“We’re supposed to visit next week.”

While Draco mulled on that, Adrian interjected, “But it’s our last day here, Hermione.”

“Won’t you miss me, lovely one?” Marcus pried.

“Or me, my dove?” Adrian pouted.

Good riddance, Hermione thought. These boys were rather excessive in their admiration, and she was wholly unused to it. While it had been fun in the first few weeks, it was quickly growing tiresome. “I will miss you both,” she said as diplomatically as she could manage. “I’m sure Prince Draco here will miss you more.”

Theo grinned. “You’re stuck with us, Hermione!”

“As always.”

“We still have the farewell party tonight,” Adrian reminded her.

“May I have the first dance?” Marcus asked.

“Actually,” Draco cut in, “that would be my responsibility. As host.”

Everyone turned to the prince in surprise. Draco was scowling deeply now, so Hermione offered him an apologetic smile as she turned to go. He could dance with the boys if he wished.

“Princess,” he grit out, “would you do me the honour?”

Hermione whirled back around in confusion. “Oh! Er...” A dozen responses flitted through her mind. You don’t have to. You don’t want to. Don’t force yourself, now. Won’t Theo be jealous? You look like you’d prefer to dance with a grindylow. Heck, I’d rather dance with a grindylow.

What came out was a strangled, “It would be my pleasure.” She dipped into a curtsey and fled. There was nothing she could do besides stay out of his hair until the party.

---

“Princess,” Draco offered Hermione a tight bow later that evening. They were in a lesser ballroom, opening the farewell party for their small group of guests. She looked beautiful, he thought, with her hair done up in a modest chignon that displayed her dainty collarbones.

He took her hand in one of his, and placed his other hand other gently at her waist. It was the first time he’d held her all summer. Had she always been this small in his arms?

The orchestra opened to a familiar waltz, one they’d learned together years ago at the behest of his mother. They knew it backwards and forwards, yet their first turn about the room felt stilted and awkward. Hermione's eyes darted around the room, landing on everything and everyone besides him. His eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Adrian and Marcus.

“Was the rest of your game enjoyable?” she asked mildly.

Draco gripped her waist a little tighter. Hermione had never cared much for their broom games, not since their accident a few summers back. Why did she care now? “We did not play for much longer after you retired.”

“Oh.”

They revolved into a new sequence that required Draco to lead her across the floor. His strides must have been long, because she tapped him to ease up.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. 

“It’s fine.” Hermione grimaced. “Are you upset your friends are leaving?”

Why did she keep asking about them? “No.” 

“Have I done something to offend?”

“No!” He insisted. It seemed like he’d been the one to offend her. He had just been observing proper decorum!

“Then what’s the matter?” she asked as he pushed her into a spin.

“If you didn’t wish to dance with me,” Draco bit out, “you could have simply said so.”

“I never said that,” Hermione huffed. 

He snorted.

She stomped on his foot, and he winced. “What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem. Like I said. If you wanted to dance with Adrian or Marcus all night long, you should have just said so.”

“I don’t wish to dance with either of them.”

He paused. “You don’t?”

“No.” Under her breath, Hermione muttered, “You’re the one who doesn’t want to dance with me.”

What?  “Hold on, I didn’t say that.”

“If this is some… pissing contest between you and your friends, I beg you, leave me out of it! We are too old for these childish games, and I’ve been patient enough.”

“I swear, Princess. I didn’t mean—”

“In fact,” Hermione exerted unnecessary force so that she was leading the dance, and not him. Draco was a little weaker on his right side, a fact she was always too happy to exploit. “After this dance, I’m through.”

“You won’t dance with them?” Draco felt something suspiciously like undeserved elation. These days he hardly knew a thing when it came to Hermione. And he'd thought he'd known her well.

“No, and I won’t dance with you, either. This is our last dance, Prince Draco. Mark my words.”

His elation faded into quiet dismay. He had made a colossal mistake. The orchestra rounded out the waltz's last strains, which Hermione always enjoyed. But she seemed to have lost all patience with him now, and with the dance altogether. She released herself from his grasp with a small shove. “I won’t forget.”

Despite Hermione retiring from the party early, Draco couldn’t have been more pleased to see his friends head home. Theo was a little less so, and he whined about their sudden lack of company.

“I suppose we can bother the princess some more,” Draco offered. “Want to play cards tomorrow?” Hermione seemed to enjoy that enough.

“So you can invite Hermione?” Theo’s tone was suggestive, and Draco didn’t appreciate it one bit.

“It’s just more fun to play with a third. Besides, I owe her an apology.”

“I think you really sort of like her.” Theo nudges him.

“I’d like her better if she’d lose at cards from time to time.”

True enough, Hermione trounced them both soundly despite Theo’s best efforts to cheat. (She had accepted Draco’s apology easily enough, too, but maintained that their days of dancing were over. They would have to see about that.)

“You took your Liquid Luck!” Draco accused her.

“Why would I waste it on such a silly thing as cards?” Hermione laughed, a happy peal he found he liked. She thumbed the pendant of her necklace, and Draco’s eyes darted down to it for the nth time in weeks. A little thrum made itself known in his chest. Where had he seen it before?

“I know very well you carry your vial with you everywhere,” he said, sniffing.

“You never know when you might need a bit of luck!”

Theo laughed. “Maybe if Draco uses his, he’ll finally beat you.”

“Hey!”

Hermione laughed again.

Draco cleared his throat. “So... What did Mother have to say about our trip to town?”

“She just thought it might be nice for us to check on your people, the ones who can’t leave their occupations to seek an audience with her. She wanted to know if I would be comfortable accompanying you, since… it’s really more for you than for me.”

“What do you mean?”

Hermione shrugged. “You’re going to be king someday.”

And Gryffindor's crown princess accompanying him would mean… Draco felt his ears heat up.

“I’m only going because your mother wants me to.” Hermione hastily hid the King and Queen cards from her last hand beneath the discard pile. “Please don’t feel like you need to entertain me.”

Draco looked at Theo for help. His best friend only shrugged. “I don’t mind,” Draco said.

He decided he hated the doubt he saw in her eyes.

---

Despite Prince Draco’s antagonism towards her, Hermione knew very quickly that he was born to rule his people. She stood back and watched as he stopped their carriage to chat with the farmers, the tradesmen, the builders, the townsfolk. They seemed to love their prince, who listened intently to their stories and their concerns. Though he was normally more reserved, he laughed loudly and often, and she could tell he genuinely enjoyed helping them with their tasks. And when he assisted a flower farmer with her roses, he slipped her a knut before extending one perfect bloom to Hermione. His grey eyes were bright and she hoped he couldn't see her deep blush when she accepted it with quiet thanks.

Watching him at work was strangely magnetic. In him was a trove of unexpected virtue she had never thought him capable of possessing. She had always found Draco attractive. She had accepted that long ago, despite his behaviour towards her. But now, he was dangerously so. She liked this side of Draco very much. She shook her traitorous thoughts away.

Later on, Hermione noticed Draco making notes of his observations in the carriage. She knew he despised writing—the ink tended to smear all over his left hand.

"I can do it," she offered, and he thanked her with a beatific grin. He brought her by his side and introduced her to new groups of people they came across.

But her presence seemed to fluster him, likely because his subjects’ attention was divided between telling him about their problems and asking him misguided questions about her. Hermione did her best to keep her face neutral as they baldly asked, “Your Highnesses. When is the royal wedding?”

“Oh yes, I’d love to be invited!”

“Will you declare it a holiday? We could use a day or two to rest.”

“What about taxes, Your Highness?”

“Taxes?” Draco asked, stunned.

“When the two kingdoms are united… Might they be lowered, Sire?”

Draco sputtered, and Hermione stepped in.

“Our kingdoms are strong allies, sir,” she informed the tradesman who’d asked. “And while marriage is… decidedly not in our future”—Draco snapped his head towards her—“we are working hard on trade deals to increase our people’s business from exports, ease tariffs where we can, and lower the cost of goods sold locally.”

“Yes,” Draco confirmed weakly.

The man seemed satisfied by her answer, and he offered her a little bow. “Well spoken, Your Highness. It is only a shame, for you make a handsome pair.”

Hermione flushed, and Draco looked ill.

“Your prince has had a long day,” she told the small gathered crowd. “We should be heading back. Please, take your rest as well.”

She took Draco’s proffered hand and let him assist her into the open carriage. To her surprise, he sat right next to her. “You have ink on your face,” he murmured, reaching over with his handkerchief to gently wipe it away. 

As she waved at the crowds they passed, she grew aware that Draco was making faces behind her and throwing rabbit ears above her head when he thought she wasn’t looking. Now was as good a time as any to cut herself loose, if that. Before her traitorous feelings for him grew any deeper.

“Prince Draco,” she said through a thin smile, “I’m well aware you do not wish to marry me. But I’d appreciate it if you hid your disgust and ridicule, at least before your subjects.” She turned to face him.

He looked abashed. “I never said—”

“You don’t have to say it.” Hermione eyed the bloom that lay between them. It had begun to wilt throughout the day, though her memory of Draco giving it to her with a grin burned bright. Before her own confidence wilted, she confessed, “I saw a different man today. You’re a wonderful leader. You care about your people. And you’re so kind to everyone. Everyone, that is, but me.”

“Hermione, I—”

“Prince Draco,” she plowed on formally, “I just want you to know with no uncertainty that I am not holding you to any expectations our parents might have placed upon us. It is no secret that our kingdoms expect us to marry. But… you do not love me. I do not flatter myself to think that you ever shall.”

“We grew up together,” Draco started. “You’re brilliant. And—”

“And that’s all.” Hermione clutched her skirts with both hands. “It’s been challenging and rewarding to learn alongside you, so, thank you for that. And one day, you will meet a woman who’s everything you could ever want in your queen. Beautiful, virtuous… intelligent.” She mustered a smirk. “Do be kind to her.”

“Princess…” He looked lost for words. Hermione imagined he must be relieved, and it made her feel inexplicably hollow. He did not love her. He did not even find her attractive. She already knew that quite well.

“Perhaps we could both be lucky enough to marry for love someday,” she finished. Her cheeks ached from the strain of smiling so insincerely. Her knuckles hurt just as hard from squeezing so tight. “Our parents will be disappointed, I'm sure. But after we complete our shared schooling this summer, please… know that we are allies. Always.”

The gallop of an approaching horse interrupted anything else Draco might have wanted to say. A winded messenger extended a roll of parchment to him, saying, “Your Highnesses. A message from King Albus. The princess must be escorted to the docks posthaste.”

The missive indicated as much. Her father had written briefly to thank Draco for taking care of her for the day. But he was being recalled to Gryffindor to deal with high-level prisoners who had broken out of Azkaban. Hermione caught one name before Draco Vanished the letter—Bellatrix Lestrange. The mad accomplice of Fenrir Greyback.

Upon Draco's urging, their carriage sped faster in a new direction.

They sat in silence until finally he rested a hand on hers. His touch was warm, but firm. In a low, feeling tone, he said, “You must be careful, Princess. Lady Lestrange has escaped… her mind is unwell.”

“I am aware,” Hermione said, trying not to heed the warmth in his hand or his voice. “She was with Greyback when he killed my mother.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I do.” Draco took a deep breath. “She is my mother’s disowned sister.”

Hermione whipped her head towards the prince.

“Your father knows this. I’ve never met her. Mother only told me that she always had an unhealthy interest in the Dark Arts… that’s why she went mad long ago. Did you know Bellatrix Lestrange was wanted long before she broke into your home?”

“Why?”

He took a breath. “Because she killed my father, too.”

Hermione gasped softly. He’d never told her that. No one had. She turned her hand over to squeeze his.

“I’m… I don’t remember him, and I don’t know much about Bellatrix,” Draco admitted bitterly. “But she is dangerous, so please… be safe.”

Hermione wondered about the concern written across his features. She wanted to pull her hands away, to wring out the traitorous tingle in her palms. “I don’t know that I need to go yet,” she hedged. “I am certain Father can take care of it. Not that… I have a reason to stay. Besides our studies, that is.”

He released her hands with a grimace, his expression closing off.

Too soon, they arrived at the docks. The constant crack of Apparition sounded as a horde of house-elves loaded box after box of cargo onto the Gryffindor ship. Her father stood by Narcissa, the pair speaking in low, worried tones.

Draco leapt over the carriage door and opened it for Hermione. Rather than extending a hand, he simply placed his hands on her waist and carried her down as if she weighed nothing. He reached back into the carriage and gingerly gave her back her half-wilted rose. Then he strode over to their parents. “Apologies for keeping you waiting. We came as soon as we heard.”

“Hermione,” King Albus said, “say your goodbyes. We set sail for Gryffindor within the hour.”

“But Father,” Hermione started. “I haven’t finished my studies with Lord Snape. And Lord Black was scheduled to arrive—”

“My daughter,” Albus beseeched, “I know you are disappointed about cutting our visit short. But Lady Lestrange has escaped Azkaban… and she managed to break into Slytherin Castle early this morning.”

Draco’s head snapped towards Narcissa. “You didn’t tell me,” he growled in accusation.

“It was convenient that you already had plans. I needed to get you and Hermione out of the castle so we could do a sweep.”

“And if Lady Lestrange had been in town? We could have endangered the princess!”

“Albus and I agreed that it was safer for you both to be out in the open. We have faith in both your skills, though I’m certain you noticed the Aurors hiding in plain sight.”

Draco’s silence told Hermione he had.

“I take it she hasn’t been found?” she asked.

“No. She escaped yet again. We will need to key the castle wards to Draco while we search for her.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because she is my sister, Draco. She and I share the same blood. Yours is half your father’s, and twice stronger for warding. Should anything befall me, you will need to assume the throne,” Narcissa babbled with uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Do not worry, my son,” Albus said. “I did the same with Hermione long ago. It is her blood that ensures that Gryffindor Castle stays safe.”

Narcissa pulled Hermione into an embrace. “My sweet swan, I am sorry. You must go. We shall see each other soon. For a wedding, perhaps?” she whispered teasingly, gesturing at the rose in Hermione’s hand.

Hermione’s gaze moved to Draco, who was now determinedly avoiding her. The memory of their last conversation rushed back to the forefront of her mind. There was nothing for it but to return home.

She curtseyed low to the queen and her son, whispering her thanks and goodbyes. Queen Narcissa embraced her.

“Do write, dear,” she whispered.

“I will. Be safe, please. And you, Prince Draco.”

He said nothing.

As Hermione dragged her feet up the gangplank, she ventured one last peek at Draco. He sat in the carriage, with his arms crossed and a surly look on his face. This was probably the last she would see of him in a long time, and her heart sank in her chest. But it would not do to entertain silly ideas. At least she did what she had set out to do at the beginning of the summer.

At least they would be allies.

She peered forlornly at the rose in her hands... and dropped it into the sea.

Allies, and nothing more.

Chapter Text

SLYTHERIN CASTLE, WINTER 11

“You said they were coming, Mother.” Draco brooded in his mother’s study as she sat at her writing desk. He’d been in great spirits since Narcissa had told him that Hermione would be returning to Slytherin in the summer. And now, she wasn’t?

The search for Lady Lestrange yielded no results, but outcroppings of her magical signature around Slytherin's lands over the following months had prevented King Albus and his daughter from visiting for another summer. The last year had been silent… and this year, this year, the Gryffindor royals had finally promised to visit Slytherin. They couldn’t simply renege on their word!

“I’m not sure what to tell you, Draco,” Narcissa consoled him “You know Albus and Hermione would not change their plans unless they had a good reason.”

Draco wasn’t so sure. The last time he saw Hermione, she had called out his history of poor behaviour towards her, and primly tucked away any chance they might have had at turning their relationship into something more.

His younger self might have celebrated. He might even have thanked the princess for freeing him of his mother’s cloying expectations. But he felt torn between needing to apologise and needing to confess his long-realised feelings for her.

It was his own fault. Draco had always been terrible with words, and far worse with identifying his own emotions. But from the moment Hermione had set foot in the castle two years ago, his eyes were opened to just how special she was. He was ashamed to acknowledge that it took her bloom, his friends’ incessant attention, and her cool formality towards him for him to see what had always been in front of him.

His little gestures of regard had been too little, too late. Hermione had too keen a sense for his nonsense, and he’d reverted to teasing her like they were children whenever he felt too close to exposing himself. Draco did not take rejection well, and to be rejected by Hermione, after a lifetime of knowing her, and suddenly falling in love with her, would have been too much to take. 

He had been living in limbo for two years now, not knowing how Hermione was, or if she’d given her heart to someone else. He only heard news of her work from her father and his mother. He didn’t have an official reason to visit Gryffindor. And with his own growing list of responsibilities in Slytherin, Narcissa could hardly spare him.

Ultimately, however, only one thing stopped him: the memory of Hermione dropping the rose he’d given her into the water, right as their crew drew up the gangplank and sailed away. How could he ever pick up from there?

Narcissa sighed. “My darling, you’ve never told me what you’ve been holding in your heart. Why, Hermione has shared more with me than you ever have.”

“I made her summers hell,” Draco said ruefully. ”Has she ever told you that?”

“She has.”

“In her letters?”

Narcissa tilted her head in thought, a subtle tell that she was about to lie to him. “Long ago.”

So Hermione didn’t ask after him. That stung.

“It’s times like these I wish your father were still around,” Narcissa said with a wistful smile. “Or perhaps even your cousin Sirius. You could pay him a visit, you know, in Grimmauld. It might be good for you.”

Draco knew what she was alluding to, but he didn't see the point in confronting his own ineptitude in matters of the heart. What use would it be?

He sat in silence.

“Well.” Narcissa got up. Draco rose with her. “Don’t leave on my account, darling. I’m off to speak with the elves about supper. You know how Severus gets when he’s hungry.”

When his mother left the room, Draco warred with himself until he could no longer help it. He stalked over to her desk. To his frustration, her correspondence drawer was warded shut. But the most recent letter she had received sat open on her desk, next to a reply she was still drafting.

One glance told him it was from King Albus. Most of it was business between the two sovereigns. But then one line in Albus's careful script caught his eye: 

What if Hermione doesn’t go for the merger?

Draco turned to read his mother’s draft. In her unhurried flourish, she’d written and underlined,

Urge her!

He backed away and fled his mother’s study in shame. He could never—he would never force himself on Hermione. And if her own father was expressing his doubts… then he knew two things: while his mother kept her hopes for him and Hermione alive, his own were stone cold dead.

GRYFFINDOR CASTLE, SPRING 11

“I said no, Father, I don’t wish to go. There’s far too much work to do this summer. And isn’t Lady Lestrange still at large?” Hermione sent off her Patronus, a graceful, soaring swan. She had done a good enough job of dodging her father the entire day, but there was no escaping his pesky silver phoenix, nor the questions conveyed through it. His Patronus made another appearance not a minute later.

“Nonsense. Our kingdom can run itself for a while. It’s been two years since we’ve been to Slytherin, and Narcissa’s asked me to reconsider. So I have! My old heart would benefit from their more temperate climes, you know.”

That was a lie. Her father was still strong as a hippogriff, despite his beard growing longer and whiter by the year. She reached for a happy memory, and landed on Queen Narcissa. She was the reason her Patronus had manifested the way it had. Narcissa had always called Hermione her cygnet, until they last visited and she finally called her a swan.

“Expecto Patronum.” Her Patronus soared in the sunlight, awaiting her command. Ironically, it was that memory of the queen that guilted her into saying, “Very well, Father. I shall accompany you.”

She would go, and only for Narcissa. Hermione was lonely without any women to keep her company. She and the queen corresponded often enough, an owl every other week. But they always skirted around the one topic Hermione could not bear to discuss: Prince Draco.

For as long as she could remember, her father had told her she and Draco would someday wed. The three months of each summer had been the best and worst of her life, filled with magic and learning, yes, but also her father’s constant poking and prodding and hinting that she should do something to capture the prince’s heart. Her father was usually much more progressive, except when it came to this. He liked to remind her that he and her mother had waited so long to have her, and so securing an heir for their kingdom was a great priority despite her young eighteen years.

What she couldn’t admit to her father was that Prince Draco did not, and would not ever care for her that way. Not the way she had come to care for him. Their last meeting had confirmed it. So Albus could push all he liked, but it would amount to nothing but disappointment.

Yet she was packed and ready on the day their ship was set to depart. And as she had done years before, she stared unhappily at her reflection to pick at the flaws Draco was sure to notice.

“Well, let him notice, then.”

She released her hair from its plait, letting the wild mass tumble down her shoulders and back. There was no reason to hide it any longer. No, she thought, she had nothing to prove to him or to anyone.

SLYTHERIN CASTLE, SUMMER 11

Draco could not bring himself to meet the Gryffindor delegation with his mother that day. He knew it was cowardly, but he holed himself in his study and sent Theo in his stead. Despite having wished ardently just a few months ago to see his princess again, what was he even to say to her when she was no longer his? When she was never truly his to begin with?

His mother had been surprised about his change of heart in the winter. She nagged him to make an appearance until he told her sharply, “I can do much better, I am sure.”

What a cold, hurtful lie. The way his mother’s lip trembled burned sharply in his memory. She had left him alone after that. Now, Draco resolved to stay away from the princess. Perhaps he could get in a few good Wizard’s Chess games with her father, but Hermione was strictly off-limits to him.

He was buried in work when Lord Snape came knocking at his study. “Highness,” he began in a bored tone.

“I’m busy, Severus.” 

“I can see that.” Lord Snape wasn’t even looking his way. “But there’s been an incident that requires your immediate attention. Your mother—”

“Mother?” Draco snapped to attention. “Is she all right?”

Lord Snape’s lip twitched. “She collapsed in the lesser ballroom. It may have been the heat. Or exhaustion.”

Draco rose immediately and pushed past his godfather. Awful possibilities flashed through his mind. His mother had been working herself to the bone to prepare the castle for their visitors. She did not need to, but her desire to oversee things firsthand, or perhaps distract herself from his surliness, had likely driven her to this point. Guilt made him run faster. He would send for a healer and force her to rest!

“Hermione, my swan!” Queen Narcissa gushed when she met them, as always, in the castle courtyard. “The years have done you so well. You are simply exquisite!” She reached over and touched the necklace at Hermione’s throat fondly. “I am so pleased to know you still wear it.”

“She never takes it off,” King Albus chuckled.

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” Hermione said, distracted. She peered around the courtyard for a shock of white blond hair, but none was in sight. Theo, however, waved at her from some distance away. Draco was not with him. Despite her relief, her heart fell. She turned back to her father. “I’m very tired, Father. May I be excused?”

“Oh, no, my love!” Narcissa said. “You must come to eat! I’ve prepared all your favourites. Take even just one bite!” She turned to Albus with urgency.

“We must honour our host, Hermione,” he agreed. “Perhaps we can send up some supper for you later if you feel weary.”

Narcissa nodded. “I would be glad to arrange it.”

Something strange was going on, Hermione thought. Her elders all but carried her to one of the ballrooms in the castle, chattering gaily all the way. Once they arrived at the door, Narcissa chided her, “My swan, we’ve discussed this! No cloaks indoors!” She tugged at the clasp at Hermione’s throat and sent her spinning, quite literally, into the room.

Only, there was no grand meal set up anywhere. The room was completely empty, save for one befuddled-looking Prince Draco. He whirled around and spotted her, too. Their eyes met, and he pulled one side of his lip up in a confused, tentative smile.

He had grown so handsome. All broad shoulders and a wide, muscled chest. And the way he was looking at her…

Hermione felt her knees start to buckle. She was in so much trouble.

Suddenly, wards shimmered around them. They both whipped out their wands. They jumped when Narcissa’s voice boomed into the room, amplified by a Sonorus spell. “Now, children. It’s been a while. I’m sure you’d like to catch up! Ta, talk later!”

Then they were alone.

Draco should have known! He should have known his mother had more tricks up her sleeve. What he hadn’t expected was that Severus would be in on them too. And now he stood before the one person he swore to leave alone, heart in his throat from simply beholding her again.

Hermione was beauty itself. His every treasured memory of her paled in comparison to her presence. He couldn't help it—he drank in her bright, brown eyes, her full lips, and her caramel skin against the wild, wild curls he had missed so much. Before he knew what he was doing, he was taking strides towards her. Consequences be damned.

“You came,” he murmured.

She seemed to tremble at his approach, but she held her head high. And as he stopped, she dipped into a slow curtsey. “I'm happy to be here.”

Draco could have laughed. That was the first thing she’d ever said to him. Did she remember?

He sketched a hasty bow before reaching to take her hand. She hadn’t offered it—she hadn’t in many years. Until now, he hadn’t known how badly he wanted to kiss it, to kiss her. How long he had been dreaming of her! He pressed his lips reverently to her fingers.

“I’ve missed you,” he sighed, wanting to pull her close. He remembered the last time they were in this room together, that clumsy, terrible waltz. He’d never liked dancing, but gods, what he wouldn’t give to dance with her again.

Hermione stared, her eyes wide. She broke eye contact and laughed—it was a soft, dismissive chuckle. “It's nice to know your sense of humour hasn't changed.”

He squeezed her hand and willed her to understand. There was so much he wanted to say, but no time to process it. Inelegantly, he blurted, “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of what you said the day you left. Tell me, did you mean it?”

“I...“ She looks down at their joined hands. “I did.”

It hurt to hear, but the mere fact that she even remembered what she had said gave Draco some hope. This was his one chance. His words were clumsy and rushed as they fell out of his mouth. “What if I told you… I’ve had a long time to think about it, and... I meant to stay away, but seeing you now… it’s useless. There’s no one else for me. No one but you. I lo—”

He didn’t know what made Hermione do it, but she cut him off, jumping up on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his. Draco pulled back in surprise, and then took her face in his hands, softly combing his fingers through her hair. Gods, he loved her hair. He kissed her again tenderly, pouring everything he couldn’t say into their contact. When he pulled away, she was beaming at him.

A thrum in his chest beat steady and bright as he touched the pendant at her neck and whispered, “Princess. I want to marry you.”

Applause broke out around them, and he and Hermione pulled apart in surprise. Their parents had somehow broken the wards and set up an elaborate lunch buffet without them noticing. The orchestra began to play a celebratory symphony as the Gryffindor and Slytherin cohorts congratulated one another on the side. Draco felt lightheaded, too disoriented by his own feelings to comprehend what was happening. Surely, this was a triumph!

He glanced back at his princess, but her eyes darted around the room in shock. And then she opened her mouth.

“Wait.”

The word slipped out of Hermione’s mouth as everything got out of hand. Things had been perfect just a minute before! Draco had been in the middle of his confession, and she kissed him. Then he kissed her back. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it. She ought to have let him finish. She still had so many questions. And now they were celebrating their betrothal? Had he proposed? She hadn’t said yes, had she?

The orchestra stopped playing. The house-elves tripped over their serving dishes. Queen Narcissa and King Albus ceased shaking hands. And Draco looked at her dazedly.

“What?” he said. “Hermione, you’re all I ever wanted. You’re beautiful.”

She blinked, waiting for him to say more. When nothing seemed forthcoming, she said, “Thank you. But, what else?”

“What else?” He blinked back.

Hermione hugged herself to keep from shaking. She wasn't certain she succeeded.

“Is beauty all that matters to you?” she asked. She knew it wasn’t, not to Draco. Not when his compliments were few and far between. But she needed to hear it from him. Her father cleared his throat, shaking his head in disapproval. She ignored him, willing Draco to say something. Anything that was in his heart.

“Draco,” Narcissa prompted, “what else?”

Hermione could see a thousand thoughts running through his head. He looked at her like he wished to impart them to her with Legilimency, but she hadn’t yet mastered the art. His eyes shuttered as he said, “I… er. What else… is there?”

She registered Lord Snape smacking his face with his palm, and Narcissa beginning to sob into her father’s arms. But all she felt was profound disappointment.

The Gryffindor entourage was ready to leave by the next morning. It had been their shortest visit to Slytherin ever—embarrassingly short for everyone involved. But a quick owl to Lord Sirius Black had given Hermione an out. She would spend the rest of her summer at his estate in Grimmauld to finish her studies in Advanced Transfiguration. That Master Lupin lived there as well was an added boon.

It was nearly a day’s trip away by land, so she asked her father if they could ride the first leg on horseback. It had been too long since she'd had the chance.

King Albus was waiting for her upon his stallion at the castle gates, and with him were a teary Queen Narcissa and a sombre Prince Draco.

Her prince… her prince, he wasn’t. She lowered her head, focusing on the sad clop of her mare’s hooves and hoping to pass them by in silence.

“We tried, Narcissa,” she heard her father say. “We can’t say we didn’t try.”

When Narcissa caught sight of Hermione, she looked hopefully between her and her son. But Draco refused to even look her way. 

“Say goodbye, Hermione,” Albus bade her.

She slowed her horse and peered at Draco from behind her hair. “Goodbye,” she whispered.

“Goodbye…?” Albus prodded.

“Goodbye, Prince Draco.”

Narcissa elbowed her son in the arm.

“Mother,” he muttered.

“Draco.”

He lowered his arms slowly. His eyes were blank when they finally met hers, and his voice was flat when he said, “Goodbye, Princess.”

He’s Occluding, Hermione realised sadly. She couldn't speak—her throat was too tight, and her eyes were growing bleary. She nodded her acknowledgment and urged her horse to move forward. When she chanced one final look at him, she saw he had dropped his shields. He wore both his despair and his heartbreak so plainly on his face that she wondered if he saw the same on hers.

Chapter Text

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

“‘What else is there?'” Lord Snape was uncharacteristically passionate in giving Draco a dressing-down that evening, uncaring that the prince was in the middle of a Wizard’s Chess game with Theo. “She says, ‘Is beauty all that matters?’, and you say, ‘What. Else. Is. There?’”

As if on cue, thunder and lightning crashed outside.

Draco moved his bishop to take one of Theo’s knights. “It was dumb, I know.”

Snape looked thoroughly unimpressed. “You should write a book.” He swept a hand through the air. “'How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less.'”

Theo chuckled, ordering a pawn forward. “Your move, Draco.”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” That was the fact of the matter. He’d been caught up in the moment, and his tongue tripped over his heart. And his brain, evidently. He moved his queen absently.

Theo stopped his bishop from demolishing the vulnerable chess piece with a soft gasp. He held it up. “You lost your queen, Draco!” 

“That’s twice in one day!” Draco groaned. He massaged his chest, where a thrum, a pull in his heart was growing ever fainter by the minute. The sensation was new and foreign, and he had only really noticed it after Hermione called things off the day before. Was this what true heartbreak felt like? He felt an inexplicable urge to move, to follow it, as if it would somehow lead him back to the woman he’d lost.

“Think,” Severus commanded. “You’re no fool. You must see something other than Hermione’s beauty.”

Draco laughed hollowly. “Of course I do, Severus. She’s like…” Sunlight after a long winter. A bird’s hopeful song in the spring. The happiest days of summer. The melancholy of autumn. The only measure of time that mattered in his twenty years.

“You know,” he continued. “And what about…” How lovely she was, inside and out. How brilliant, brave, and kind. How stubborn and annoying. How swotty. How challenging.

“And then…” How she pushed him to do better. How she saw the king in him. How she spoke kindly to his people. How his people could be their people. How he could see his future in her beautiful brown eyes. How he dreamt of waking up nestled in her untamed hair. How he wanted to make her happy, and furious, and then happy again, every single day. How he knew her so well. How he would always want to know more. “I mean... right?”

Snape and Theo met him with dubious stares. Damn it! He’d done it again.

“I don’t know how to say it.” At least, not without sounding like a fool. He scowled at the chess board. If he could jump his knight over to the rook, he could win the game. Perhaps if he could Apparate to Grimmauld tomorrow, he could win her back, too. It was a long distance. But he was willing to exhaust his energy and his magic on such a leap. A leap of love.

“Just you watch, Severus,” Draco proclaimed. “I’ll prove it to her.” And then he made his move against Theo. “Checkmate!”

Theo banged his head on the table.

In the distance, lightning struck once more, and wolves’ howls carried on the wind. The thrum in Draco’s chest silenced completely.

THE FORBIDDEN FOREST

Hermione had ridden in silence for most of the day, but as night fell and the rains began, she and her father finally moved into their carriage.

“I don’t understand.” Albus shook his head. “What else did you want him to say?”

Hermione thumbed her pendant. “Father, you and Queen Narcissa have put so much pressure on me and Draco to wed. But I needed to know that he loved me, just for being me. Not Princess Hermione, heir to the throne. Not some… beauty he suddenly noticed after years of ignoring me.” She reached behind her head for the clasp of her necklace. She shouldn’t wear it anymore. The silver glinted sadly in her hand. “I should return this.”

Albus studied her face seriously. “Hermione. Narcissa and I watched you two grow up together. And we would never have pushed if there weren’t a spark we didn’t already see there. You cannot tell me that in your heart of hearts, you do not know how he feels?”

A tear tracked down her cheek, and she clutched her necklace tightly. “I don’t know.”

“Draco… he grew up without his father. And like you, he's had some catching up to do. Tell me, have you ever received a letter from him?”

Hermione shook her head. They most pointedly had never written one another.

“He is a most talented writer, though his penmanship is abysmal.”

“A pitfall of his left-handedness, I know,” Hermione sighed. He’d told her this many times before.

“Yes,” Albus nodded. “But also… his mind moves too quickly for his quill. His missives all contain a manner of scratch-outs and scribbles on the margins that drive his mother mad. I believe his mind also moves far too quickly for his mouth, from which words are less easily forgiven.”

It made sense. Even during their lessons, Draco hardly ever participated beyond a couple of words, but his exams and essays would always garner high marks and praise despite appearing haphazardly written. It also explained why Draco had such quick reflexes; why he excelled at wandless magic, even more so than she did. But… “What are you trying to say, Father? I don't need you to make excuses for him.”

“Humour me. Imagine you were him, afflicted with such an… imbalance of speed. And imagine you never learned—not from your father, nor your mother, and certainly not from the man who might be your father-in-law someday—you never learned a thing about the art of wooing a woman.”

“I would think myself an unfortunate boor.”

“Precisely.”

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. 

“Have faith in your prince,” King Albus told her. “He has a good heart. Let him prove it to you.”

“You think he will?”

“I know he will if you let him.”

Hermione smiled, all hopeful affection. “If it isn’t too late, then, maybe. I love you, Father.”

“And I love you, my Hermione.” Albus held her hand tightly and planted a kiss on her brow.

Outside, the coachman shouted, “Whoa, whoa!” The horses brayed nervously as the carriage lurched to a stop.

“What is it?” Hermione asked as her father peered out the window. His eyes widened, and he took out his wand.

“Stay inside, Hermione.” He stepped out into the storm.

“Father, what is it?” There was no way she was letting him go out there alone! Hermione reached for her own wand.

A flash of red light blinded her momentarily. The Aurors yelled as their horses reared up in fright.

That’s when she heard a sound that made her skin crawl: a low, unearthly wolf howl.

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

The crack of long-distance Apparition was disguised by the continuing thunderstorm, but the castle staff was quick to find Prince Draco in the game room. “It’s King Albus’ captain, Sire! He’s hurt! We’ve brought him in!”

Draco and his companions ran to meet the man, the one-eyed Captain Alastor Moody, who lay sprawled outside the castle walls. He threw up a barrier to shield them from the rain.

“Y-your Highness,” Captain Moody rasped. His magical eye spun around its socket frantically. He was bleeding through, Splinched and injured by some other means.

“Where are the Healers!” Draco shouted.

“They're on their way, Highness!” 

“Get them here faster!” The others ran off, but Severus and Theo stayed. He turned back to Moody. “What happened? Are His Majesty and the princess alright?”

“We…” Moody heaved. “We were… attacked. A great… animal. Constantly… vigilant… but it was too dark… too strong.”

“Hermione.”

The captain hadn’t even finished explaining when Draco whipped his wand out. Within seconds, he was past the castle's bridge.

“Draco, wait!” Lord Snape's shouts were faint in the distance.

Draco didn't care. With a sharp CRACK!, he was gone.

THE FORBIDDEN FOREST

Draco didn’t know where Hermione was, but he did know the way to Grimmauld by heart. Uncaring of the storm, he Apparated to each of his memorised milestones: an unusual boulder formation ten miles down. An abandoned well after that. An old oak tree with his initials scratched on its trunk mid-way. And on, and on, until he finally saw the wrecked carriage and the slaughtered men on the ground, not very far from Grimmauld. His heart was bursting with dread as he ran towards the carnage and threw the carriage door open. “Hermione!” 

She wasn’t inside, though signs of struggle were evident.

Draco searched frantically, calling for Hermione and her father in turns. Then a small glint of silver on the ground caught his eye. It was Hermione’s necklace, fallen into a puddle. Next to it was her wand. His heart sank as he picked them up. No, no, no, no…

Then the sound of gasping caught his attention. He recognised the robes before he saw the man wearing them.

“Your Majesty!”

Draco sprinted over and unearthed the king from the debris of the carriage.

Albus was wounded, and he was bleeding out from large gashes on his chest.

“My son,” he wheezed.

Draco wracked his brain for solutions. The king was too injured to Apparate to Grimmauld, but he had to save him!

“Who did this?” Draco begged him.

“It came so quickly. A great…. animal.”

“Where is Hermione? How can I get you to safety? Please—”

“Listen to me, Draco. It’s not what it seems. S-silver. Not spells. It’s not... what it seems.”

“What’s not?” Draco’s mind raced. Had she been captured? She must not be dead if her belongings were right here, intact. “Where is Hermione?”

“Hermione… is…” 

“Yes?”

“Hermione… is…” Albus’ eyelids fell shut. “...gone.”

It couldn’t be!

“King Albus!” Draco bellowed in anguish. “HERMIONE!!”

Above them, the rain continued to fall.

Chapter Text

THE GREAT LAKE

When Hermione came to, she grew vaguely aware of a man—no, a beast—carrying her in his arms as he walked. His breath reeked of blood and carrion as he leaned close to sniff her. Then... he spoke. “The princess awakens.”

She opened her eyes and tried not to scream in terror. As her eyes adjusted to the light of a floating lantern, she could make out the wolflike features of the animal that had taken their contingent down all too easily. Her curses had rebounded off him, as had those of her father and his men.

“Put me down!” she shouted, beating her fists upon his chest.

“If you insist,” he grinned toothily. He dropped her unceremoniously on the damp banks of what looked like a dark lake.

Hermione scrambled for purchase, feeling around for her wand. Her heart dropped with the realisation that she didn’t have it. But she didn’t back down. “Who are you? And what have you done to my father!”

“Tsk tsk. You’re an impatient one, aren’t you, Princess?” Her title sounded oily on his tongue. He leered, baring his fangs and flapping his bat wings. Wings? Hermione took the rest of him in, talons, tail, and all. “I wouldn’t expect you to recognise me. After all, last I saw you, you were a babe in your mother’s arms. Of course, that was the last she saw of you, too.”

Hermione felt the blood rush from her face. “Fenrir Greyback.”

“Lord Greyback will do.” He took a step towards her, and Hermione backed up with great urgency. If he bit her, she was done for. And that wasn’t the worst he could do to her.

“Get away from me, you… you animal!”

Greyback snarled. The beast’s body began to shake, and Hermione nearly retched as she watched his his fur shed in matted grey tufts. His skin bubbled over and his bones cracked, and he howled with blind rage. It was then that she grasped what was happening: he was shifting back. But how was that possible? Hermione made a quick sweep of the skies, racking her brain for information. There was no moon! How had he shifted into a wolf to begin with?

She looked back in horror at the heaving, hulking man before her. Scraggly and sweaty, he wore nothing but a feral grin.

“Do I offend the lady’s sensibilities?” he mocked. With a snap of his dirty, claw-like fingers, a filthy tunic and breeches appeared upon his person. In his hand was a crooked wand. “Better?”

“Stay back,” Hermione warned again.

Greyback chuckled. “Or what, Princess?” He took a step towards her, and then another. She backed up until the hem of her gown touched the lake’s waters. “Just how do you plan to fight me off?”

She stepped further into the lake, thinking she would rather drown than let him touch her.

“Slow down,” he growled. “I don’t plan on harming you… yet. I’ve brought you here to strike a bargain.”

“What do you want.”

“I’m more interested in knowing what it is you want, Princess.” He pointed his wand at her. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Her body went rigid and she fell into the shallows. Water seeped into her ears.

Greyback leaned over her with a predatory smile. “Legilimens.”

Hermione was not an Occlumens. She had always been poor at hiding her emotions. She had meant to learn Occlumency the year she had prematurely left Slytherin, and now, it was too late. Greyback tore through her memories of her father, picked at her lessons from Narcissa, and perused her recollections of her summers in Slytherin. He defiled her tenderly-kept secrets about Draco with slower interest, taking in every conversation, every taunt, every look, every gesture. He played over and over the moment their relationship failed to take flight, and the messy aftermath. Hermione tried to scream. She tried to shield herself. But she couldn’t.

After what felt like an eternity, Greyback pulled out of her mind.

“So you’re in love with the Prince of Slytherin,” he tutted. “Pretty, isn’t he? But what’s this? He doesn’t seem to love you back. What a pity. He won’t even miss you.”

Hermione glared at him with as much rage as she could muster.

“But I have better plans for us, Princess, if you agree to my one demand. Think about your answer carefully, if you want to keep your little prince safe.” He released Hermione’s throat from the confines of the spell. “Marry me.”

Hermione recoiled. “Never!”

Greyback chuckled. “I didn’t expect you to agree immediately. Fortunately for you, I am a gentleman. And I’ve decided, dear princess, that you will be my guest here until you see things my way.”

He raised his wand and began chanting in a language Hermione did not recognise. A dark cloud enveloped her, gagging her when she tried to scream. She writhed and thrashed in pain as she felt her body begin to shift. Her feet felt like they were vanishing, and her arms flew behind her as her chest began to swell. A prickling sensation came over her body as thousands of sharp needles pushed through her every pore. Her head shrank as her neck drew father from her body. Hermione felt woozy. The black cloud lifted away, and she blinked at the stars above her. She opened her mouth to cry, but only a sorrowful, “Oh-OH!” escaped her throat.

“Well then, Princess,” Greyback mocked as he turned to leave. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Hermione realised in a panic that she was floating on the lake. She peered at her reflection in the dark waters and flapped her wings in alarm. The needles that had poked at her skin weren't needles at all... they were feathers.

Greyback had turned her into a swan.

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

Narcissa wept over King Albus’s body as it lay in state in the Slytherin family crypt. The castle’s residents had gathered to pay their last respects in what needed to be a hasty funeral, due to the wounds the mysterious Great Animal had inflicted upon his body. Next to the king was a symbolic marker for the princess. It was surrounded by fragrant white roses.

Draco clenched his jaw, Occluding deeply as he stood for the ceremony. Hermione was not dead. There was no way she could be dead!

Later that day, after King Albus was entombed, Draco paced furiously in his mother’s study.

“It’s only been a day,” he growled at Queen Narcissa, Lord Snape, and Theo. “How could you do that to her?”

“We have searched everywhere, Draco,” his mother reasoned tearfully. “You most of all. No one has found a trace of our dear Hermione. And with no other survivors…”

“And what of Gryffindor? The castle wards are keyed to her.”

“We have a copy of Albus’s will. Gryffindor is vulnerable, but it will be warded and placed under my care under such a time that a new heir is determined. It would simply be too complicated to wait until she is found.”

“Why would Hermione be the only one missing?” he reasoned. “She’s still out there. The Great Animal took her.”

“Remind me,” Lord Snape interrupted, “what was it King Albus said to you?”

“He said, ‘It’s not what it seems. Silver, not spells.’” A wave of frustration crashed over Draco. He backfisted the wall. What did Albus mean?

“Maybe he was talking about Hermione’s necklace.” Theo gestured at the piece of jewelry on Narcissa’s desk. “Is it not silver?”

“It is pure silver, forged by goblins.” Narcissa said. “It was mine when I was a girl. You see?” She gestured at a painting of her from when she was a child. Around Narcissa’s neck was the very same necklace.

So that’s where Draco had seen it before!

“We gifted it to the princess when she was born.”

Draco tore his eyes from the painting. “So was Albus referring to the necklace?”

“I don’t think so,” Narcissa said. “Although... It has heavy protective enchantments. If she had been wearing it, you would probably have known how to find her.”

“How?”

“That necklace cannot simply be removed. It must be worn and taken off voluntarily. It ensures that the wearer can always be found by one who truly loves her.”

Draco’s heart fell. He did love her. But his current possession of the necklace suggested that she had taken it off herself. She had worn it for years! He wondered if she had known of its true nature.

Lord Snape, who didn’t seem to be listening, looked out the window pensively. “Draco, there is a potion I'm brewing that I would like your assistance with. Accompany me to my workroom.”

THE GREAT LAKE

Hermione awoke shivering beneath a willow tree. It was daytime, yet it seemed she was still living her nightmare. She was still a swan. She peered at her surroundings, listening for signs of Greyback. 

He had left her with a warning not to try to escape. And she had been too afraid to try—too afraid of what might be lying in wait to kill her besides the madman himself. Beyond that, she was heartbroken over Draco and worried about her father. But Greyback seemed to have an agenda, one that required her to be alive. So she had tucked herself into a small ball and tucked her head under one of her massive wings.

The morning was blessedly silent. Hermione warily waddled out into the open and took a better look around.

The lake was expansive, and it was surrounded by what looked like a garden that had gone decades without a human’s touch. The trees were lush and the untamed shrubs bloomed with an array of wildflowers, and they were interrupted by moss-covered ruins of stone arches, stairs, and empty fountains. Hermione wondered what this place once looked like before nature reclaimed it.

In the center of the lake itself stood a crumbling castle, overrun with ivy. It had a single high turret overlooking the surrounding lands. That was probably where Greyback lived. 

Hermione's stomach grumbled, and instinct led her to hop into the lake to forage. The first dive bewildered her; she quickly came up for air, fearing that she would drown. But each succeeding attempt grew easier, and Hermione found she could reach the aquatic vegetation that grew along the lake’s bottom. It was unsavoury to her human sensibilities, but her swan didn’t mind.

Hunger satiated, she glided up the lake to where it seemed to be fed by a high but narrow waterfall. She wondered if she could fly up there, but decided she’d try another time. For now, she needed to learn the place, to ready her escape. 

Hermione went around the lake’s perimeter and learned that the property was enclosed by walls in the distance. She also learned that the castle standing in its center did not have any doors, only high windows. That suggested she was trapped in a Wizarding estate. 

The sun’s path also told her she was still somewhere to the west of Slytherin, which sat on the easternmost side of the continent. But other than that, she had no clue where she was.

Dusk fell, and it was then that Hermione heard Greyback calling for her. She tried to hide, but the currents of the water began pulling her towards the banks where he’d left her. Struggling proved pointless. The water delivered her to the waiting werewolf, still a man in form.

“Ah, Princess,” he cooed. “You’re just in time.” He gestured towards the sky, where the waxing moon rose delicately. Its pale light hit the lake, and the waters around Hermione glowed golden. She tried to flee, to fly from the water. But it rose and crested upon her like a wave. She thought she would drown, but then the water gave way to reveal her return to her human form. Her wet clothes clung to her body, and she crossed her arms as she demanded, “What have you done to me?”

“Stylish, is it not?” Greyback praised his handiwork, all whilst leering at her form. Hermione turned away. “You should be thanking me. See? Being a swan doesn’t last all day.”

“What. Have. You. Done.”

A woman appeared from behind the werewolf. “Stop playing with your food, Fenrir.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the new addition to their company, and goosebumps crawled up her spine. The woman’s wild, curly hair was matted, and her teeth were black. Hermione had no doubt as to who she was. “Lady Lestrange.”

The madwoman sat on a stump. “Hello, Muddy Princess.” 

Greyback seemed amused. “If you don't mind, I was about to humour our guest.” He addressed Hermione again. “When the moon shines on the lake and touches your wings, you turn back into a woman. I will expect you right here for as many nights as it takes you to answer my one question. Will… you… marry… me?”

“Why do you even want to marry me?” Hermione whirled around. “Why me?”

Greyback howled in laughter. “Don’t flatter yourself. You weren’t even good enough for your brat prince. It’s not you I want, Princess, but your kingdom. And with your father out of the picture…”

Hermione gasped. It couldn’t be. She’d feared the worst, and it appeared she was right. She choked on a sob. “Take Gryffindor then! You have enough power.”

“I already tried that,” mused the werewolf. His indulgent tone told her he was only toying with her. “I broke in once, and it nearly cost me my life. But I’m a man who learns from his mistakes. And the easiest way to kinghood is to marry the person Gryffindor is keyed to.”

Hermione tried to keep a straight face. “That’s not true.”

Greyback sneered. “You’re the only living heir to the throne. You will marry me, and you will turn the castle and the kingdom over!”

“I’ll die first!” Hermione pushed past him and ran off. She knew it would be fruitless, but she had to try. For Gryffindor.

“Where are you going, Princess?” Greyback taunted. “As soon as the moonlight leaves the lake, you’ll turn back into a swan. No matter where you are.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks.

“I wouldn’t wander far,” Bellatrix teased. “Especially not on a full moon. Fenrir here likes to lose control.”

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

Aconite, black quicksilver, giant moonwort, myrrh. Draco had never worked with such rare ingredients all at once. And though the components were few, the brew itself was a complicated one that he’d never come across in his Potions studies. Lord Snape refused to tell him what it was, no matter that he’d asked several times.

“Think, Draco,” his godfather urged him. “Work through your distraction. Who, what might need this kind of concoction?”

“Is this a test?” Draco huffed. The combination of poisons and strong medicinal herbs didn’t make sense. “The herbs could potentially neutralise the poisons to some degree, but this seems too toxic for any human to withstand.”

Severus hummed, which Draco took to mean he wasn’t entirely wrong. It could not simply have been meant to poison or kill, because the aconite or the quicksilver would have easily sufficed.

“Is it meant to subdue?” he guessed, pondering next on who or… what might need it. “Is it for a beast?”

“Of a sort.” Severus turned down the heat as the potion emitted a faint blue smoke. Its moment of change. “Well done,” he said. “Full marks for the potion, half marks for participation.”

“I’m far past requiring your assessments, Severus.” Draco scowled. Severus had probably asked him along to cheer him up in his own way, but the exercise only made him think of his former Potions partner, who would have blown him out of the water with her eager answers. His heart clenched.

“It’s good practice,” Severus drawled. “Though it might help you to consider that the components of this potion are also… not what they seem.”

Draco peered at the cauldron suspiciously.

Lord Snape cast a stasis charm upon the cauldron and readied an unusually large number of vials. Eighty-four, Draco counted. That must mean whatever needed these doses—which Snape had said were enough for a year—likely needed to take them for days at a time. As Snape portioned the brew with his wand, he said, “Let us visit your cousin and Master Lupin tomorrow. Your former instructors may have valuable advice on how you may find and defeat this Great Animal.”

Draco agreed. It was not a bad idea. “I’ll ask Theo to join us.”

“If you must. Now, I suggest you pay the library a visit.”

“The library?”

“You have participation scores to bring up. I expect you to have the answers by tomorrow.”

GRIMMAULD CASTLE

Sirius Black, Duke of Grimmauld, was an incomparable rake. Draco’s arrival at his cousin’s estate that morning had been met by boisterous jokes and a prank, no doubt Sirius’s attempt at allaying Draco’s worries. But they’d jumped into Transfiguration and Defence practice immediately, and Draco had left Sirius’s training yard in shambles.

“Cor, Draco.” Theo applauded from the sidelines. “You’re an absolute savage!”

“Feeling better?” Sirius asked with a smirk. “Your Blasting Curse is excellent, by the way, if a touch aggressive.”

Draco nodded, inspecting the carnage. “I will replace your training dummies, Cousin.”

“No need. Remus and I have been meaning to purchase new ones, anyway.”

“Where is Master Lupin?” Theo asked. “I thought this was more his thing.”

“With dear Snivellus, no doubt. Putting away his potions delivery.”

Draco tilted his head. The ones they’d brewed the night before? Why would Remus need those?

“So,” Sirius said. “I’ve been thinking about this Great Animal. I believe the fact that King Albus was unable to identify the animal on sight means that it was not any beast we might encounter in a book. Its ability to maim and kidnap implies it is likely a magical being… or a wizard with the ability to transform. Observe.” Sirius took a leap and instantly transformed into a massive black hound.

Theo spat out the apple he’d been eating.

Draco had heard of Animagi before. Becoming one was a rare skill that took great pains to achieve. He was unsurprised that his cousin, a Master of Transfiguration, had done it. “Impressive.”

Sirius transformed back. “Thank you.”

“Does being an Animagus come with enhanced powers as well?” Draco thought of the claw marks that plagued his nightmares. “Like incredible strength?”

“No. Save for an immunity to faes’ influence and a rudimentary ability to communicate with animals. I once escaped a horde of Dementors undetected, you know, as a dog. And I have a fondness for… communing with wolves.” Sirius smirked.

“What about an immunity to curses?” Draco pressed.

Sirius eyed him shrewdly. “It does not add up,” he muttered, almost to himself. It was not an answer.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Sirius said. “Nothing at all.”

Beasts and beings, beasts and beings.

Draco was poring over his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—the same one King Albus had gifted him—when Lord Snape came by his guest room.

“Studying, I see.”

“That’s what you wanted me to do.”

“And?” 

“And nothing. Nothing makes any sense to me, least of all your Potions assignment.”

Snape cast him an unimpressed look. “Recite the ingredients again; their names and properties.”

Draco sighed. “Very well. Aconite, also known as wolfsbane, is a poisonous flower that—”

A loud bang from his wardrobe cut him off. And then another, and another.

He and Severus shot each other concerned looks.

“Go get Sirius,” Draco said. He knew his cousin housed a manner of dark artefacts in his home. Some were items that used to belong to his mad aunt, that only a blood relative could neutralise. Sirius would know what to do.

Snape was out the door in a second.

Bang! Bang! The wardrobe rattled once more, and out the closet fell…

“Hermione!”

Draco ran towards her prone form in a panic. What was she doing here? Her torso was slashed up and bloodied like her father's was.

Gods, she wasn’t breathing!

Draco shook her, hot tears welling in his eyes. Hermione’s head lolled over, her body a dead weight in his arms.

“Hermione, please!” he sobbed, cradling her face. “Wake up! Wake up!”

Footsteps pounded down the hall.

“Draco?” Theo had reached him first. “Is that the princess?!”

“Move, Draco!” came Sirius’ imperious bellow.

Draco struggled as Remus and Severus began pulling him away from Hermione’s body. “Let me go!” he shouted. “Help her!”

But as Sirius approached, Hermione warped, spun, shifted into… Master Lupin? Draco looked around him in bewilderment. Remus was still holding onto him, as was Severus. He glanced back at the other Remus, who lay equally dead as Hermione had on the ground.

Sirius pulled out his wand. “Riddikulus!”

Dead Remus sprang back to life, now donning the frilliest gown Draco had ever seen.

A boggart. Draco fell limp, feeling foolish. He should have known.

“A little help here, Lord Snape?” Sirius said tightly. “Lord Nott?”

Severus gave a long-suffering sigh and stepped up to the boggart. It warped once more, and a black-haired man sneered at him while planting a lascivious kiss upon a redheaded woman. Draco squinted. Was that… Lord Potter of Peverell? And his wife?

Sirius exchanged looks with Remus.

“Riddikulus,” Snape uttered bitterly. Lady Potter vanished, and Lord Potter repeatedly bashed his face into a pie. Snape turned to Sirius. “Not. A. Word.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Theo, if you please.”

Trembling, Theo walked up to the pie-torn boggart. It tasted the air and whirled into… a version of Theo that was covered in pockmarks, warts, and boils.

“No,” he whispered tearfully.

“The spell, Theo,” Remus instructed. “Think of something amusing.”

“R-Riddikulus.”

Boggart Theo grew house-elf ears. It pranced around the room in nothing but a tea cozy.

“It got worse,” Theo cried.

Remus released Draco and approached the boggart last. It warped once more, and turned into a glowing orb wrapped in a blanket of fog. “Riddikulus,” he murmured, and the orb turned into a smelly wheel of cheese. Then Remus wordlessly cast the boggart back into the wardrobe, locking and warding it shut.

“I'm sorry about that, Draco,” Remus said. “We’ve been hunting this boggart down for weeks. It’s been terrorising the staff. But with Sirius and myself being the only wizards in this castle, it was proving very difficult to find and subdue.”

Draco sat still on the floor, taking stock of what he had seen. He was still shaken from seeing his own greatest fear. But Sirius’s? He looked between his cousin and his former teacher. “Are you two…”

“Inappropriately close friends of the male persuasion?” Sirius smirked. “Astute, Cousin.”

Theo gasped softly, but Draco only blinked. “It certainly explains a lot.”

Then he turned to Snape.

“Do not ask,” Severus commanded. Draco nodded once.

Theo’s fear was simple in that he was a vain creature.

“You all right, Theo?”

“I will be,” he replied solemnly.

That left Master Lupin. His greatest fear was no orb, Draco realized. It was… A full moon. Aconite—wolfsbane. The potion. A suppressant. Draco’s eyes widened. Beasts and beings. Claw marks. “You’re a werewolf,” he said dumbly, seeing the scars on his old teacher’s face in a new light.

“I am,” Lupin confirmed with a weary sigh. He walked over and offered Theo and Draco some chocolate from his pocket. But he addressed Snape. “I believe, Severus, that you had your own suspicions. Is that why you brought Prince Draco with you to deliver the Wolfsbane today?”

Severus didn’t deny it, nor did he apologise. “I broke no oath,” he said. “I did not tell the prince; else, I would be dead.”

So Lupin’s affliction was a secret. But in Draco’s eyes, it made him no less of a man than before. He took a piece of chocolate gratefully.

“I know what you’re insinuating, Severus,” Sirius said in a warning tone. “And I don’t like it. But things do not add up. The night the princess went missing, we did not have a full moon.”

Snape nodded. “To make myself perfectly clear, I am not suggesting that any of this was Remus’ doing. Only that it seems this… Great Animal… may share some lycanthropic characteristics. I was hoping the prince could consult with you, but he couldn’t do so if he didn’t know.”

“Silver, not curses,” Draco uttered. “That’s what King Albus said.” It did make sense.

“I have not heard of a werewolf that could shift at will,” Remus said doubtfully. “But… my kind, we are indeed vulnerable to silver.”

No wonder all of Sirius’ cutlery was solid gold. Draco had thought his cousin was merely the ostentatious sort. Which was still very much true.

“A Great Animal that is not what it seems…”  Draco turned it over in his head. “Potentially a man, a... being, whose weakness is silver, not curses.” It felt like a step in the right direction, yet no closer to an answer than before.

“You wish to hunt it? You don’t still think Hermione is out there?” Remus asked.

“I know it,” Draco rose from the ground. “When I find the Great Animal, I will find Hermione.”

“It’s been days, Draco.” Severus said. “You may find her, but she may not be alive.”

“You’re wrong. Mother said something yesterday that convinced me.”

“And that is?”

“The wards on Gryffindor castle. They’re keyed to Hermione. If she were dead, the castle would have shut down and locked everyone out until Mother lifted it, as Albus's will dictates. Has Mother had to do that?”

“No.” Severus looked thoughtful, and even faintly impressed.

“Hermione’s alive. And I’m going to find her.”

Silence filled the air.

Finally, Sirius spoke. “Lucky then, that you’ve found yourself amongst a veritable band of animals.” He winked. “Are you handy with a bow, Cousin? Might I interest you and the young Lord Nott in a round of archery?”

THE GREAT LAKE

Nearly a fortnight had passed. In the time Hermione spent as a swan, she busied herself with learning the extent of her animal abilities. She could fly with decent speed, but never beyond the walls of the property. Its wards, though weak from years of neglect, still succeeded in keeping her within its bounds. Though she tried to find a weakness along the perimeter—a hole in the wall, perhaps, or a fissure in the free air—so far, she hadn’t succeeded. And after she underwent her nightly transformation and her captors had their fun, she practised wandless magic to clean herself up and prepare a simple meal with the fruits, herbs, and small fish she foraged and hunted. If Greyback knew she wasn’t starving, he didn’t seem to care.

Into the night, she tried her best not to wallow over her father, over Draco, and over her circumstances before she eventually fell asleep beneath the stars.

It was a lonely and irksome routine, and Hermione considered over her supper that she might be going mad. Because she suddenly seemed able to communicate with the creatures that lived by the lake.

She watched as a little frog appeared to bicker with a tortoise. She couldn’t talk to them, not really. But she could understand that they were friends of a sort, and that they knew she meant them no harm. They liked to watch her shift from a swan into a human, and would often stay close by to entertain her with their antics. Or perhaps they were simply attracted to her small campfire. She wasn’t entirely convinced of her newfound ability, but it was comforting, if not mildly amusing, to know her descent into madness was not a completely lonely one.

Hermione turned to observe the moon. It would be full tomorrow night. She worried that she was running on borrowed time. Despite being unable to kill her, Greyback seemed to lose patience with each denied proposal. She wasn’t sure if it was simply due to the lunar cycle. He would lose himself in the shift, and then what? Would she be able to hide? Where would Bellatrix be?

She supposed she had been fortunate enough. The potential reward Greyback sought to reap out of this arrangement likely outweighed his oft-voiced temptation to touch her, maul her, or otherwise harm her beyond how he already had. On the other hand, Bellatrix, for her reported madness, seemed disinterested in her, and seldom accompanied Greyback on his nightly visits.

Hermione had still more reasons to hope. She had been thrilled to discover a few days ago that her prized vial of Felix Felicis was still in the pocket of her dress. She’d hidden it, biding her time until she could maximise it. After all, she needed all the luck she could get if she was to break this curse.

But first, she needed to understand it.

The light that streamed from the castle windows informed her of her captors’ nighttime whereabouts. The two seemed to only occupy one chamber, for purposes she didn’t wish to know. In the daytime, however, the castle sat quiet. Hermione wondered if they were even on the property, and if she could break in. Maybe the ancient structure housed a study. Maybe it would hold the answers to her curse, or to Greyback’s bizarre shifting patterns. And maybe it would have a map.

So many considerations. If she could just break this spell, she would run to Draco immediately. She would apologise, she would tell him how she felt. Then perhaps… perhaps she would take the lonely trip home to Gryffindor. She couldn’t let herself hope for much else beyond that. Yet she allowed herself to hope that Draco was finding his way to her, too.

Chapter Text

SLYTHERIN CASTLE, THREE WEEKS LATER

Draco tossed and turned in his bed. The weeks he’d spent in Grimmauld had been productive and frustrating in turns. His archery was the best it had ever been, and it was just one of the multitude of hunting and dueling scenarios he had worked on with his teachers daily. He trained in between actual hunts with Theo in the parts of the Forbidden Forest near Grimmauld. But with only vague clues as to what the Great Animal actually was, they had returned empty-handed each day.

Something, and he couldn’t put his finger on what, continued to bother him about his search. He was a skilled navigator, but at some point in his daily excursions, he would without fail find himself circling the same area of the Forbidden Forest he was certain he’d already visited. This part of forest was likely enchanted, and Draco instinctively felt it meant that the Great Animal resided there.

So near, and yet so far. He wasn’t even sure he was properly equipped. Sirius and Remus had gifted him with a quiver of silver-tipped arrows, which Severus had also dipped in potent aconite oil. If he were even searching for a werewolf, it would work. But as he stared up at the waning moon, he worried that the faceless beast could be anything.

Draco thought up a new plan to revisit the woods the next day with Theo. What could he try that he hadn’t already? He sighed deeply into his pillow.

In the quiet of the night, his regrets filled him. Hope was proving untenable, but he couldn’t afford to lose it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Hermione’s necklace. On a whim, he looped it twice and clasped it around his own wrist. It was both a comfort and a lead weight wearing her close to him. He had so much to make up to her. She would not have been taken, and King Albus and his men would not have been killed that day if not for his own foolishness and inability to speak what was in his heart. For that alone, he would never give up. Whether she would accept him or leave him for good was inconsequential. He would hold her in his heart forever.

THE GREAT LAKE, THE NEXT DAY

Hermione learned that afternoon that swans were capable of yawning. At least, she was. A new, foreign thrum over her heart had rendered her unable to sleep all night. Yet it did not feel like cause for worry. It was reassuring and warm, and somehow she felt herself being pulled… somewhere due east. To Slytherin, to Draco. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt almost like he was right there with her, although they were miles and miles apart. It made her heart ache in a different way. Never mind that it was her swan’s heart in her borrowed form.

The past few days had been suspiciously peaceful. Neither Greyback nor Bellatrix had stopped by to harass her in the evenings, and it made her think that today might be the day to make her move. She wrestled with restless indecision until the throb in her heart grew too difficult to ignore. At last, she made her choice. Today, she would use her Felix Felicis and break into the castle. With some luck (that was the point!), she might finally be able to find some information on her curse and a way out of this place.

She waddled over to the tree hollow where she’d concealed the vial, and unearthed it from the dead leaves that camouflaged its golden contents. Getting it open was her next challenge. She tried over and over, but her beak was proving ineffective against the shatter-proof glass and its stopper.

A small tap on her webbed foot made her pause. She extended her neck and found her little frog friend staring up at her with his beady eyes.

Hello there, she thought.

He hopped away, and returned a moment later with his tortoise companion.

Hermione honked a laugh. Are you here to help me?

She watched with interest as the tortoise slowly, gently took the vial in his mouth. He tilted it ever so slightly, and the frog clung onto the stopper with his sticky, four-fingered front feet. Then the frog gave a mighty leap, unstoppering the vial to Hermione’s greatest surprise. 

Thank you, she wanted to weep. My little friends, you have done me such a great service.

The frog croaked in acknowledgment. The tortoise extended his neck so Hermione might take the vial from him. Carefully, she picked it up with her beak and knocked the liquid gold back. It tasted like sunshine, like a summer bloom. And as it came into effect, bubbling within her, Hermione felt like it would be a perfect, perfect day.

As luck would have it, it would be.

Where to begin? She had meant to fly into one of the windows of the castle with no doors, but she had a really good feeling about taking a glide on the lake. She absently paddled next to the castle walls until she reached a particularly mossy wall. Interesting, this moss. Hermione wanted to eat it! So she pecked at a patch, once, twice, three times. By magic, the wall opened up for her.

It was dark, but Hermione stepped in fearlessly. The wall closed in behind her, but that didn’t worry her a whit, because then the torches on the wall lit up. How convenient!

Books, bones, and rancid potions lay strewn about the cramped, smelly space. But Hermione was delighted. Something told her she should make her way over to the desk. She hopped onto the mouldy leather chair and craned her neck to see. 

Oh! What a dump! I ought to tidy up a bit. So as best as she could, she stacked the pieces of parchment atop one another. She pulled at the last sheet, and it revealed… A journal?

Greyback didn’t strike her as the journaling sort. She shouldn’t read it. But it was covered in crumbs, what a shame.

She batted a wing at the page, but her clumsy limb turned the page instead. And written upon the new page was an incantation in a foreign tongue. She missed learning spells, and this one was like a tongue twister! Hermione tried it three times fast in her head. Satisfied, she went on to read the next. Only it was in her language, explaining what it was she had just read.

A moonlit curse of captive form, freed only by one’s greatest desire.

She loved riddles! A moonlit curse… captive form… Gee, that sounds like me! she thrilled. She could only break this curse with her greatest desire? Well, that was easy! Her greatest desire was for Draco to prove that he loved her. Ha-ha!

Now she just needed to find him and get him to do it. Properly this time!

Hermione had to hand it to Greyback. He didn’t seem very intelligent, but this was rather creative. He believed Draco did not love her, and if that were the case, the curse would be unbreakable. She didn’t know if she was capable of coming up with such poetically painful terms of capture. Greyback should apply himself and write a novella!

Only, he was mistaken. Draco loved her! Hermione honked giddily. Silly werewolf. Well, Draco hasn’t actually told me, but….

Well, that seemed to be what she came for. She was hankering for a snack. There was a patch of wild rice in the glen with her name on it. She hopped off the chair, but then she slipped over some parchment littering the floor. What was this? A map! No, two maps!

They looked identical, save for one glaring difference. Where a castle was plotted on one—close enough to Grimmauld, she noted—it was completely absent from the other. Only the Forbidden Forest was marked. She inspected the castle in question. It looked smallish, and it sat in a great… lake!

Oh! She may have had a bird’s brain, but she felt so very bright. It jogged her memory of something she’d read in a book years ago: this castle was obviously being hidden under a Fidelius Charm. And being here, finding these maps, had made her a secondary Secret Keeper.

Hermione felt awfully smug. She would have gotten full marks had this been an assignment, and then some.

But the fact remained that she was hungry. Famished! She tapped the wall again, and it released her back into the lake. She glided her way towards a random, marshy patch of wild rice, and made a beeline for the tallest, thickest stalks growing closest to a perimeter wall. Should she indulge? Grains of rice were nearly impossible to enjoy as a wandless witch, but she quite liked the husks as a swan. She tore into the stalks happily. There was a particularly toasty looking cluster of rice just out of her reach, so she trampled the grasses to get there. But she lost her balance (Clumsy swan feet! ) and tumbled, tumbled, through a well-concealed hole in the wall that she’d never seen before.

That hurt!

Hermione shook the dust off her feathers and blinked back at the wall. The uneaten stalk of rice taunted her through the hole, which was wider than she would have guessed. Well, that’s just irresponsible warding. But… was she on the other side? She was! She’d done it! She’d found the break in the wards! She was outside of the property at last!

Her heart thrummed again, the same beat that had kept her awake the entire night before. There was nothing for it but to follow the pull. So she launched into a run, beating her wings with all her might. And slowly, surely, she made her ascent.

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

“Draco? Is that you?”

The prince stopped in his tracks. His mother’s voice made him cringe. Narcissa rounded the corner and tapped her foot at him.

“Dobby told me that you finally returned from Grimmauld last night. You didn’t even stop by to say hello!”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I was tired and I didn’t wish to bother you.”

Narcissa crossed her arms. “The crown prince disappears from his kingdom and his duties for a month, and doesn’t think his mother, the queen, would want to immediately learn of his return?”

The truth was, Draco was still sore with her. For someone who claimed she loved Hermione like a daughter, his mother had been far too quick to assume the princess was no more. But he had no time to waste. “I apologise for worrying you. It won’t happen again.”

She eyed him from head to toe, her steely eyes glinting at the bow and quiver of arrows slung across his back, and then the broomstick he held in his left hand. “Just where do you think you’re going now?”

“I’m off to find the Great Animal.”

Her expression softened. “Draco.” She took his hand, smiling sadly at Hermione’s necklace that still hung from his wrist. “My dearest, I know it’s been hard to take, but Sirius wrote that you haven’t found anything… Neither hair nor hide of this beast. I beg you, let it go.”

“I can’t give up, Mother.”

“No, I know how difficult it is to let go of someone you love. Your father… he was taken from me, too, far long before his time.” Narcissa had never told him precisely how his father, the late King Lucius, had died at the hands of her sister. She had never even told him why. She continued, “But you must endeavour, if not for yourself, then for the kingdom.” Rich, coming from her. His father’s death had broken Narcissa’s heart, and she never loved again. But at least they had an heir.

“She’s alive, Mother. And I need to go. Theo is waiting for me.”

“Your Hermione will always be alive.” She tapped over his heart. “In here.”

Draco’s throat felt thick.

“Do what you must,” Narcissa continued, resigned. “Just make sure you’re back by tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Didn’t you read my letters? We’re hosting a ball.”

Draco frowned. “Is that appropriate?” Their greatest allies were in crisis. Her dear friend, King Albus, lay newly entombed in their family crypt. Hermione was missing.

“It’s just a few friends,” Narcissa said. “And their daughters.”

So that’s what this was about. This ball must be her backup plan to find Draco a bride. His heart ached with fury and sorrow. It was difficult to keep the bite out of his tone as he said, “Mother, I can’t.”

Narcissa’s face crumpled.

Draco sighed. Perhaps his mother needed it more than he did. “If I leave now, maybe I can be back in time.”

“Oh! Thank you, darling.”

THE FORBIDDEN FOREST

It took a considerable amount of energy, but Draco Apparated himself and Theo to his newest marker in the enchanted part of the forest.

“Do you need a moment, Draco?” Theo asked. "That was a long trip."

“No,” he replied roughly. “I’m fine. Get on your broom, Theo. Keep an eye out.”

They did a sweep of the trees together, and just as before, they wound up back in the same place, by Draco’s Apparition marker.

Damn it all. “Let’s go again.”

“This place gives me the creeps,” Theo complained. “It’ll be dark soon. We should return to Grimmauld before we come across an Acromantula or something!”

Draco directed his broom in a new direction. “Just stay close.” 

Theo did not need to be told twice.

King Albus’ words rang in Draco’s head the way they always did when he was out here: “It’s not what it seems. A Great Animal.”

It was those same words that Draco found himself repeating when a flash of reflected brightness hit his eyes. He squinted, clutching his broom tighter. Something was coming—flying his way. It was the first time he’d ever encountered a disturbance of the sort among these trees, and he was torn with indecision over whether he should reach for his wand or his bow. 

As he lay in wait, the figure loomed larger. A swan, Draco realised. A lone swan. He’d observed enough of the bevy of swans that occupied Slytherin Castle’s pond to know that they were not solitary creatures. And seeing as there was not even a body of water nearby…

It’s not what it seems. 

Draco angled his bow, willing the beast to come a little closer. The Great Animal might not be a werewolf, but the aconite that laced his arrows was fatally toxic, even to birds. And his aim was equally deadly and true. He nocked an arrow and counted the seconds.

Draco, Hermione’s heart sang happily. She could feel him, actually feel him nearby. She flew through the thicket of trees, thinking perhaps it was getting a little tight here. She swerved towards an area that looked just a tinge wider.

It was a good thing she did, because an arrow whizzed straight past where she had just been flying! Was someone shooting at her? That didn’t seem very lucky, and she was certain she still had some Felix Felicis coursing through her body. She chanced a glance at her would-be assailant. Her bird eyes widened. It was him! Draco was here!

She tried to call out, but another arrow narrowly missed her head. Why was he shooting at her? She must have still been in luck, because Draco rarely missed twice.

But Draco on a broom was something she wasn’t sure luck could save her from, and he had begun to give chase. She flew out of the trees and into a clearing as fast as she could, riding on serendipitous gusts of wind. They took her far enough away that Draco couldn’t reach her if he insisted on using his bow. But he could fly and cast spells at the same time, and soon he was gaining on her, casting hexes and curses her way.

Hermione felt muddled. She ought to be trying to save herself, but suddenly, all she wanted to do was to reminisce as the day came to a close. 

Oh! What a pretty sunset. She flew into the last vestiges of the sun. Behind her, she heard a crash. Draco had been momentarily blinded, but he was again mounting his broom and pursuing her.

Hermione ducked back into the small grove, where the wall’s wards were broken. It was all too good to be true! By letting Draco follow her here, she would be able to reveal the castle’s secrets. The Fidelius Charm would be broken!

She flew into the hole, glancing back only to make sure Draco was still behind her. He was! But it was too early to celebrate. The sun had set all too quickly, and Hermione crucially had one more thing to show Draco before he managed to kill her. There was also the matter of her Liquid Luck. She had exerted herself so hard that she felt the last of the Felix Felicis burn away.

Thankfully, the moon always rose at twilight in this forest. As she landed on the lake, she aimed right for the crescent and prayed its light would touch her wings on time. 

THE GREAT LAKE

Something strange had happened, Draco could feel it in his bones. It was evident that the beast he was chasing down was no ordinary swan. Not only was it able to dodge his two arrows and his succeeding volley of spells, but it was also swerving away from him with unusual intelligence. This swan wasn’t merely trying to escape; rather, Draco thought it was trying to lead him somewhere. It was almost certainly a trap. But wherever the swan went, there Hermione could be. That, he was even more sure of.

As he flew out into a clearing, and then through a wall he’d never encountered before, he felt a ripple of magic sweep over him, like a veil being lifted from his eyes and his mind. Concealment magic, he realised. He’d never found this place, a derelict estate from the looks of it, because someone didn’t want it to be found.

A flash of white plumage brought him back. The swan continued to flee. As it crossed over the side of a large lake, Draco urged his broom onward along the water’s edge. He would need to be on solid land to have the best chance of intercepting it and taking it down.

The swan landed gracefully on the shallow banks of the lake, right where the moon’s partially obscured light reflected in the water. Draco dismounted his broom and set into a run, nocking a new arrow against his bowstring. Would it transform into the beast that had taken Hermione? Would it try to attack, or keep him prisoner in that castle nearby? Could he kill it and search for his princess here? It didn't matter. Draco wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He stopped a safe distance away and took aim.

But the creature did nothing but flail about helplessly. In the brief moment the peculiar motion gave him pause, the water began to glow a blinding gold. Draco tried to keep his eyes trained on his target, even as the water crested over the swan’s head and obscured it completely.  It swirled and splashed, finally giving way to...

“Princess?” Draco lowered his bow slowly. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Had she become an Animagus?

“Draco.” His whispered name sounded like music to his ears. But he had to be sure.

“What did I give you the day you left Slytherin two years ago?”

“A rose,” she answered with a watery smile. “Thorough as always, I see.”

Draco dropped his bow. In a few long strides, he had her in his arms. He held her long and tight. She was real, and she was here. His voice was rough when he said, “No one believed me, but I knew. I never stopped looking for you.”

“Never?”

“Never. But it seems you were the one who found me.”

She shot him a secret grin. “I used my Liquid Luck. Something in my chest led me right to you.”

He huffed a laugh. Of course she still kept it on her person. But he sobered quickly. “Thank the gods you did. Why did you wait to shift back? I could have hurt you.”

“I’m all right, Draco.”

“Never again.” He buried his face in her hair with a tired sigh. “Let’s get you home.”

Hermione pulled back, her hands picking at his vest. “Draco, listen to me. You can’t stay.”

“Can’t stay?” Was she out of her mind? “No! I’ll never let you out of my sight again!” 

“I may have found a way out of this place today, but when the moon sets, I’ll turn back into a swan.”

“You aren’t an Animagus?” 

She shook her head. “I’ve been cursed. By Fenrir Greyback.”

Draco paled. Hermione didn’t need to explain who Greyback was, though no one had heard of the deranged wizard in years. Though Draco’s assumptions had been mostly correct, he wanted to kick himself for not even considering that the notorious werewolf was the Great Animal.

He listened in mounting horror and rage as she told him a rushed account of the attack and her capture, of her curse, and of Greyback’s plans and unwelcome advances. “At least Lady Lestrange hasn’t—”

“She’s here, too?”

“…Yes.”

Draco rifled his hair in frustration.“You can’t expect me to leave you in such a dangerous position.”

“I’ll be fine. They can’t kill me, not if they want to take Gryffindor.”

“There’s no telling how long that will go on for!”

“I don’t know, but… at least I’ve learned how to break the curse.” She averted her eyes, a dark blush staining her cheeks.

“That’s good.” Draco tried to recapture her gaze. “Tell me.”

“It’s foolish.”

“Foolishness is more my specialty.”

The princess cracked a sad smile. “I never thought I’d hear you admit it.”

“Tell me, Hermione,” he asked again. She shivered at her name. It was arresting. “Please.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s described this way: ‘A moonlit curse of captive form, freed only by one’s greatest desire.’”

“And what is it you desire the most?” he breathed.

“Greyback is a Legilimens,” she began, looking very flustered. “He saw my memories…”

“It’s all right,” Draco said gently. “I won’t laugh.”

She dithered, gathering her thoughts, perhaps, or courage. “I just… I wanted someone to prove they loved me. Just for me.”

Her doubts cut Draco deeply, though he knew it was his own fault. “Princess… Couldn’t that be me?” He barely croaked it out, but he hoped she could hear all the hope and sincerity in his voice. The past month, he anguished over what he might say to her, scarcely even holding out hope that she might feel the same. After all, she had never said it back. She refused him. Rejected him. And now, he was begging.

“Could it?” She looked up at him, her wide eyes brimming with sadness. “Greyback… he saw everything when he violated my mind. My thoughts, my feelings… I think he chose this curse specifically because he believed it unbreakable.” It seemed she did, too.

Draco shook his head. It couldn’t be further from the truth. But words eluded him yet again. They wouldn’t do—they would never be enough. He took her face in his hands and drank her in. Though her curls had grown ever wilder and her dress looked worse for wear, she looked as lovely in the moonlight as she had when he last saw her. He knew now that her heart had endured too much in his absence. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t tell you how much I regret letting you leave. It was all my fault, all because I couldn’t…“

“No, Draco. I should have… I should have let you prove it. I wanted you to.”

“How can I prove it to you?” He would do anything.

Hermione deflated. “I don’t know.”

And then, an idea struck him. “Tomorrow night. Mother is throwing a ball. Say you’ll go.” Draco was never one for grand speeches, but he would make her vow of everlasting love before all those people, if that’s what it took.

“That’s impossible. Slytherin is too far, and—”

Draco pulled at the brace he wore at his wrist, unclasping the jewelry he’d tucked into it for safekeeping. His precious cargo.

“My necklace!” cried Hermione. “You found it.”

Draco concentrated a stream of magic from his wand onto the heart-shaped pendant. “I learned this from Sirius,” he murmured. “I’ve made you a Portkey. Your necklace will take you straight to Slytherin Castle after moonrise tomorrow night.”

She looked impressed. It was never an easy feat, impressing Hermione. He allowed himself a smirk.

“May I?” 

Hermione turned around, and he fastened it carefully around her neck. As he swept her hair back over the chain, a familiar thrum beat warm and strong in his chest anew. It was then that he realised how Hermione had found him. It couldn’t have just been Felix Felicis. Despite her doubts about him, she did love him back. This necklace was proof. His heart swelled with wonder.

She touched her pendant and smiled. “Thank you, Draco.”

“That necklace, it also—”

A loud crack of Apparition sounded in the trees.

“Princess!” a man’s voice growled.

Greyback.

“He’s back,” Hermione said, eyes wide with worry. “You need to go.”

Draco clutched his wand. “Let him come.” 

“No! He has great, dark power. He can shift into a werewolf even without the full moon. Please, Draco! I’m begging you. Don’t fight him on your own.” She pushed him away.

“Princess!” Greyback barked louder.

Draco hated it, but she was right. Now that he knew where this place was, he could take Greyback and his aunt down with a contingent of his best Aurors. After he and Hermione broke the curse.

“Be safe,” he pressed urgently. “Tomorrow night. I’ll see you at the ball.”

“Tomorrow night,” Hermione whispered back. “Now, go.”

It was the hardest thing Draco ever had to do, but he turned away from Hermione and set off to find his broom.

“There you are,” Greyback snarled. “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

Hermione whirled around. He’d been closer than she thought!

“I thought I heard voices.” The werewolf rounded Hermione and peered into the bushes.

“Voices?” Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Yes. Voices.”

“Well, I…”

“You what?” He seemed on the verge of an outburst. Hermione had to pacify him, quickly.

“I’ve decided… to become your queen,” she blurted. Good gods, Hermione…

“So she sees reason.” Greyback bared his fangs.

“About time,” Bellatrix said, stepping out of the shadows. “It seems our princess grew tired of rolling around in the mud.”

Hermione was suddenly very thankful she convinced Draco to leave. He was a sharp duelist, but would he have been able to take on two dark wizards while trying to protect her?

She held her breath as Bellatrix swaggered towards them. “Been busy, girl?”

“Not at all,” Hermione lied.

“Hm.” Bellatrix pulled out her wand. “Accio!”

To Hermione’s horror, Draco’s bow flew out from the bushes and straight into his aunt’s scraggly hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who this belongs to, would you?” She flashed her black teeth in a simpering smile.

Greyback's body rippled with rage as he approached Hermione. “I can smell him on you.”

“I’ll see you at the baaall,” Bellatrix mimicked in singsong. She emitted a high-pitched cackle, doubling over in mad delight.

“You take me for a fool?” Greyback demanded. She found herself unable to escape as he lunged for her neck. He gripped so tight she couldn’t breathe, and lifted her too easily off the ground.

Suddenly he dropped her, howling in pain as he gripped his hand. His flesh was smoking. He sneered at his burn, then darted his eyes back to her throat.

Hermione realised it as soon as he did—her necklace! She hadn’t had the chance to hide it! But it was silver—Greyback’s true weakness.

“Where did you get that?!” Bellatrix shouted, tossing Draco’s bow aside. She stalked over to Hermione and yanked at the necklace, but it stayed put. Hermione’s already-bruised neck, however, did not. She doubled over in pain.

“It was Queen Narcissa’s,” Hermione replied through clenched teeth.

“You insolent brat! This is mine!” Bellatrix slapped her. “That bitch has a nasty habit of taking everything that belongs to me. But after tomorrow night, never again! Incarcerous!”

Thick cords wrapped themselves tightly around Hermione’s wrists. Bellatrix grabbed her and Greyback and Apparated all three of them into the castle. Hermione then found herself being dragged by the hair into a makeshift cell in the hall. Bellatrix threw her in with a sneer and warded the enclosure sloppily.

“I might not be able to take that trinket from you by force," she said, "but mark my words. Once you turn Gryffindor over to Fenrir, nothing is going to stop me from slicing your pretty head clean off.”

Greyback approached the cell as well. Hermione’s eyes darted to his hand, where an unsightly burn wound in the shape of her pendant bled and bubbled. “This is not how I thought we would be celebrating our engagement, my pet.”

“I will never be yours, you vile creature!”

“It seems you’ve been enjoying the freedoms you’ve been granted a little too much,” Greyback sneered. “No matter. Bella and I have a big ball to attend, unlike you.”

Hermione didn’t know what gave her the confidence to say, “If you want to stop me, you’ll have to kill me.”

“I don’t think so,” Greyback sneered. “You see, you’ve forgotten one very important thing. Tomorrow night,” he gestured at the crescent moon shining through the window, “There is. No. Moon.”

He reached in and pulled a single hair from Hermione’s head, laughing cruelly at her tears that finally fell.

Chapter Text

SLYTHERIN CASTLE 

Draco spent the night in his library, feverishly piecing the last of the Great Animal mystery together. He oscillated between periods of immense distraction and focus, unable to believe that he had left Hermione in the clutches of the creature he needed to learn how to defeat.

He worked through the stacks, stopping now and then to check on the thrum in his chest. It was gentle now, but it had spiked worryingly several times in the hours before. The first time it happened was very soon after he escaped. His heart had thumped so violently that he nearly turned his broom back around. But then it slowed. Remembering Hermione’s wishes, Draco had reluctantly Apparated home.

He thought that had been a mistake for two reasons: first, he’d forgotten all about Theo; and second, he’d let himself miss the opportunity to take Greyback down on Hermione’s urging. He’d had a wand. He’d had his weapons. He could have, he should have.

But he had to believe Hermione would find her way to him. And then…

And then he would correct every single one of his wrongs.

Dawn was upon him when he reached for the last remaining book of spells. It was very old, but he recognised it on sight. King Albus had given it to him years ago: The Body of Spells. It was a heavy tome, one which housed ancient runes and incantations that were a headache to read. He hadn’t had the patience for it then. But he persevered, looking for something, anything that would explain the beast Greyback had become.

THE GREAT LAKE CASTLE

Hermione had overheard enough from her makeshift cell to know she was in big trouble. Her brashness had been beyond careless, and it had stemmed from her security in knowing that she was useless to Greyback dead. But she had finally caused him to boil over, and if she didn’t get out of here soon, she and Draco would pay the ultimate price.

The previous evening, she didn’t get a wink of sleep. Her captors had noisily plotted nearby, uncaring that she could hear them. Perhaps they wanted her to hear. To hear how they planned on Bellatrix impersonating her with Polyjuice Potion. How they would murder Draco and Narcissa before all their guests so that Bellatrix could lay claim to Slytherin. How they would return to bind her to Greyback by force. How they would circumvent the protective powers of the necklace she wore to use her and dispose of her afterwards. And how they would take Gryffindor the very same day, and rule the two kingdoms together, like they had planned eighteen years ago.

After that, they proceeded to celebrate their evil plot by rutting like animals all over the mouldy furniture. Hermione had wanted to vomit.

When the night grew dark and silent, Hermione paced around her cell thinking of a means to escape. Their plan was certainly ambitious, but Hermione didn’t really know what dark magic they had going for them. Her last hope was to warn Draco. The sooner the better.

The bars of the cage held fast against even her best wandless magic. She couldn’t turn into a swan at will. Nor could she get the Portkey to activate a day early. When the moon set and she became a swan, she tried to squeeze through the bars. They were just a little too tight, and she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to do it without injuring herself. She would have to wait until they left and her necklace could get her to Slytherin. She only hoped she wouldn’t be too late.

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

Draco stepped through the castle in a rush. He’d had a breakthrough in the wee hours of the morning, and he had to run his plan by someone. Anyone. Theo, ideally. But Theo was still nowhere to be found.

The castle was a flurry of activity in preparation for that evening’s ball, and it did nothing to help Draco’s increasing agitation. More than once, he nearly knocked over a house-elf carrying three times its weight in roses. But it was necessary madness, if he was to pull off what he had to tonight.

He entered the grand ballroom with a haughtiness he reserved for the most trying of circumstances, and spotted his mother fussing over the orchestra’s repertoire. “Mother,” he said imperiously, “I need to speak with you.”

“Don’t you give me that look, young man, I taught it to you.”

Feigning confidence he didn’t possess, he said, “I usually leave you to your devices when it comes to this sort of thing, but I need you to know that I mean to choose my bride tonight.”

The surprise on Narcissa’s face was beyond concealment. “Oh, Draco! Are you certain?”

“Yes, mother. My search is over.”

He let her take that however she wished, because the less anyone knew about Hermione, the better. Much still remained to be done—and breaking the curse was only the first on his list.

Narcissa seemed equally hopeful as she was sad, so he took her in his arms for a quick spin to the music of the orchestra’s rehearsal. It was a waltz, one that reminded him only of Hermione and the summer Narcissa had forced them to learn it together. He had been a lanky sixteen to her awkward fourteen, and neither of them could stand being in such close proximity to one another for extended periods of time.

“Do you remember teaching us this, Mother? Hermione and me.”

“Oh, yes,” she laughed. “You were both so upset. A couple of—”

“Rampaging trolls,” he completed her old assessment with a smirk. “But we managed, didn’t we?”

“Eventually. You made quite the pair at the summer ball,” Narcissa said, sniffling into his tunic. “She was so graceful when she set her mind to it.”

“Like a swan,” he agreed quietly. What he wouldn’t give to dance with Hermione again. Their last dance had left something to be desired, and he’d never gotten to redeem himself in her eyes.

“Not all is lost, Draco.”

“No,” he replied, kissing his mother gently on her cheek. “It’s not.”

The waltz ended, and he released his mother. “Have you seen Theo?” He had been searching the castle all afternoon. He even enlisted Dobby’s help, to no avail. He’d also sent an owl to Grimmauld, but hadn’t yet received a reply.

“No. Was he not with you?”

Draco shook his head. “I’d better get going, then.”

“Oh! All right. I need you to lift the wards on the castle before you go. Our guests will be arriving in a few hours.”

Her request gave Draco pause. “Mother, that isn’t safe.”

“It’s only for one night.”

He supposed Hermione would need the wards to be down, too. But with Greyback and Lestrange in the picture… he debated with himself over whether or not he should tell his mother. It would not do to worry her, not when she’d already invited nobles from far and wide.

“Every Auror needs to be in the vicinity and on high alert.” He would brief them himself. “And we end early. Can you promise me that, Mother?” 

“Yes, yes.” She waved him off. 

“Mother.”

“I promise you, Draco. We will take the necessary precautions.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. That he had to do this at all…

For Hermione, it was a risk he would have to take.

THE GREAT LAKE CASTLE

“Well, Princess?” Bellatrix spun before her. “How do I look?”

Hermione felt sick as she watched Lady Lestrange parade before her in her body. She now wore a form-fitting black gown that Hermione would never have selected for herself. She tucked a large vial of the potion up her sleeve.

She ruffled her feathers in dismay and tried to look elsewhere, anywhere but at the person masquerading as her.

Bellatrix seemed too at ease in Hermione’s form. She had all the manners and mannerisms of a well-bred lady—after all, she was raised as one. Her preening was only disturbed by Greyback’s return. The werewolf marched straight to her cage. He shot a painful hex at her. “You’ve been busier than I thought!”

“What’s she done, Fenrir?” 

He did a double-take at Bellatrix. “Well, don’t you look good enough to eat.” He bared his yellowed teeth and marched up to her. He licked a column up her—Hermione’s—throat. Hermione stifled a gag.

Bellatrix smirked, pushing her breasts together. “I could get used to this. We should shave her and all keep her hideous hair for next time.”

Hermione honked angrily at her captors.

“Silence!” boomed Greyback. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve been in my study. Did you feel clever, hmm? Nosing through all my notes and spells? Do you think you’ve figured everything out?” He banged against the cage. “Well?” 

Hermione backed away. 

“Legilimens!”

Hermione recoiled, bracing herself for another intrusion. But none came.

Greyback grabbed her swan's head with a meaty hand and forced her to look into his eyes. “Legilimens!” he tried again. And again, nothing happened. He flung Hermione's head back in disgust, and she struggled to catch herself against the strength of his throw.

“You think that trinket of yours will save you? I don’t mind. Soon, your secrets will die with you. Because once your precious prince dies at my hands, any hope you might possess of breaking the curse will be gone. That won’t kill you,” Fenrir snarled, “but I’ll make you wish it had.”

He clattered his wand against the bars of her cage. “Would you like a taste of your future, Princess? Let’s see how that thing holds up against an Unforgivable Curse.”

Hermione backed up into the wall.

“Crucio!” he cried. 

Pain. Pain like she had never felt before coursed through her veins. It tore at her skull, it wrung her long neck, it twisted and boiled her insides. It yanked at her wings, and it clawed at her eyes. She cried out as she writhed, but even her lungs felt like they were on fire, or underwater, or both. It felt like a slow and painful death. Hermione registered her head hitting the ground hard, and heard the loud crack in her skull. But she was in too much agony to pay it much heed.

And yet... a sensation of relief blanketed over her as soon as Greyback let up—as if soothing her, trying to repair what had been damaged. A trickle though it was, Hermione could tell it was emanating from her necklace. It might not have been able to stand up fully against Dark Magic, but what other powers did this thing have?

“Didn’t see that in my journals, did you?” Greyback sneered.

Hermione tried to lift her head up, but it was too heavy. She was too exhausted, horrified by what he had just done to her.

“I’ll tell you once more,” Bellatrix called in a bored voice, “Stop playing with your food. We need to get going.”

“I fear our guest might get lonely,” Greyback mocked. “The prince is busy, of course, but I’ve arranged for a substitute.”

A door materialised in the stone wall, and in walked none other than…

Theo! Hermione panicked. He was extremely disheveled. His eyes were glassy, and his movements were stilted as he walked straight into the cage with Hermione. Greyback seemed to be controlling his mind and movements somehow.

“Poor fellow,” Greyback chuckled darkly as Theo slumped over, unconscious. “He got lost in the woods. Lucky for him, I could use a lackey.” As Greyback locked and warded their prison, he said, “I’d love to stay, but if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. That’s tacky.”

SLYTHERIN CASTLE

Draco buckled his cloak on with distaste. Not often was he required to employ the full force of his regalia, but there was no escaping it on a night such as tonight. His mother had laid it for him out along with a fine new tunic and pants, and he donned each item with little complaint. He needed as much patience as he could muster—knowing his mother, she would require him to take a turn about the room, or twelve. He sighed.

The sun was setting, which meant in just two hours, he’d have Hermione in his arms again. Hermione knew he hated speaking in public. But he would declare his undying love for her before every noble person of importance, to prove his love and break the curse. The gesture felt trivial despite its grand scale. But it would be enough. It had to be. Right?

A knock sounded on his door.

“Come in,” he sighed.

“Cousin.” Sirius came in with a grin on his face. “Look at you. Dressed for the ballet.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Your guests are arriving.”

“Don’t remind me. Mother promised she wouldn’t make this another one of her pageants, but you know how she gets.”

“Princesses on parade.” Sirius smirked. “Listen, I can help fend off the ladies for you. But not all of them. I am but one dog.”

Draco raised a brow. “What about Master Lupin?”

“He knows I like a good party.” Indeed, Sirius already had a goblet of wine in his hand.

“Makes one of us.”

Sirius walked over to him and straightened his cloak. “Are you all right?”

Draco nodded. And then he shook his head. No amount of Occluding could prevent him from stewing in his thoughts all day, and he was a cauldron fit to burst. “I have a question.”

“I am all ears.”

“How does one go about proving they love someone?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I just…” Draco rifled a hand through his hair. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Depends,” his cousin teased.

“I found Hermione yesterday.” 

The duke’s brows shot up in surprise. “Alive?”

“Yes. She’s under a curse that only I can break. I’ve given her the means to come tonight. I intend to prove my love—no, I have to prove it. Tonight. And I still have no idea how.”

Sirius’ face softened. “If I may share my paltry knowledge on the subject?”

Draco nodded tersely.

“Love… it doesn’t always take the form we expect. Sometimes, we love someone we’re told we aren’t allowed to have. Other times, we love someone who may never love us back. And still other times, we love someone who’s been right in front of us all along, so it’s difficult to distinguish where friendship—or antagonism—ends, and love begins. One day you wake up and they’re all you see: everything good, bad, and unique about them. And you wonder how you’d never seen them in that light before. You know?”

Did Draco ever.

“Some people,” Sirius continued, “they do crazy things for that love. Your father put his throne on the line. He angered the Blacks when he broke his arranged betrothal to their eldest daughter, your Aunt Bellatrix. All so he could marry your mother and make her his queen. Yet the stories say that Narcissa had been a thorn in his side since they were children. Much like you and someone we know.”

“Hermione isn’t—”

“Don’t deny it.”

“She’s not a thorn. She hasn’t been, not in a long time.”

“You might know that, but does she?” Sirius levelled him a knowing look. “Lucius realised one day that the reason Narcissa got under his skin was because she was precisely what he wanted, despite his best efforts to do his duty and attach himself to Bellatrix. Bella was always a little…”

“Unhinged?”

“At the time? More like extreme. Many believe Bella turned to the Dark Arts because of what Lucius had done. But your father courted and married your mother anyway, despite the family frowning upon the union. He won her over and then defended her staunchly, because he loved her far longer than she’d loved him. In the end, only Bella was unhappy, although she did wed another—the ill-fated Lord Rodolphus Lestrange.”

“She killed my father anyway.”

“After she killed her own husband, yes.”

There was the damning evidence. Bellatrix's motives were now clear as day. Hermione’s situation was wholly his family’s fault, far more than Draco had ever realized. “About Bellatrix… she’s still working with Greyback.”

Sirius paled. “Does your mother know?”

“No. I didn’t want to worry her tonight. I plan on tracking them down as soon as I break the curse. Which I haven’t figured out how to do.”

“Well, then. You say you must prove your love?”

“Yes.”

“Love… It blooms with constancy. It’s about consistently proving the one thing that matters to Hermione. Do you know what that is?”

“I think so.” After years of doubt borne of actions, Hermione needed, no, she deserved to be shown why he loved her every single day. She deserved to see herself from his point of view. And if he knew her, grand gestures would do little more than embarrass her. “But I don’t have that kind of time. I need to do it tonight.”

“Tonight?” Sirius frowned. “Regardless, you should do your best to take that first step.”

That didn’t help Draco much. Sirius beckoned him to join the party downstairs, and Draco had to hope he would see Hermione again.

As they left the room, he remembered something else. “Did Theo come to Grimmauld yesterday? Did he accompany you back here?”

“No,” Sirius said. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Draco’s instincts flared with alarm. That couldn’t be good.

THE GREAT LAKE CASTLE

Theo, Theo, please wake up, Hermione mentally begged her companion. The sun had set, and their captors had finally Apparated away. She needed to get them both out of here and make their way to Slytherin. Theo needed to be touching her necklace when the Portkey activated. If it activated, because the moon would not rise like she and Draco thought it would. Did Portkeys work on animals? She had to believe they would. Else, she and Theo were dead ducks.

Theo finally stirred, slowly focusing on his surroundings. “Where am I? Where’s the Princess? Could’ve sworn…”

That gave Hermione hope. He must have seen Bellatrix and Greyback leave!  

His eyes darted around the cage and beyond it before finally landing on her. “A swan?”

Hermione took an uneven step towards him. She was still sore all over. It hurt to put weight on her feet.

“Gah! Get away!” Theo cried, brandishing his bow at her. “If you’re the Great Animal—” He reached behind him and took an arrow from his quiver.

Hermione backed away in frustration. She shook her aching neck at him, and her brain rattled in her skull. She gingerly bent her wing and gestured at the chain hanging around her neck. Please understand me. Theo had never been good at their childhood games of charades, but surely he wasn’t that dim!

Theo’s eyes finally fell on the heart-shaped pendant. “P-Princess?” 

Hermione nodded once, and slowly.

“Then who was that who walked out the door?”

Not me, Theo!

“Was that an impostor? Gods, did they do this to you?” He lowered his weapon and returned his arrow to its quiver.

She limped back over to him and pulled at his trousers. When he sat down next to her, she tugged his sleeve.

“You’re hurt!”

She tugged harder, pulling his hand to her necklace.

“You want me to… take it off?”

She shook her head no. Her world spun.

“Then…” he took the pendant in his hands.

Hermione nodded, fighting against the urge to close her eyes. Don’t let go.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Theo dropped his hand, and Hermione honked in irritation. He placed it back on her necklace. “I don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” he admitted. “But wherever we are, and whatever’s happened, I sure am glad to have found you.”

He looks at her necklace thoughtfully. “Draco found you first, didn’t he? I was with him when we searched the woods yesterday. I got lost, though. Is he all right?”

Hermione honked sleepily. She worried that the Portkey wouldn’t activate on time and she would fall unconscious.

“You don’t look so good. They must have hurt you badly,” Theo said. “Listen, if we could just get out of here…”

Just as he made to get up, a sharp pull tugged at her abdomen, transporting her and Theo out of their warded cage and into nothingness.

Chapter Text

THE GRAND BALLROOM, SLYTHERIN CASTLE

The orchestra played a lively tune as couples took to the dance floor. It was a huge affair, and Draco was under no illusions as to why his mother had gone to such lengths. The party was impossible to enjoy, what with the thrum in his chest beating urgently and then calming down in worrisome intervals.

“You promised you wouldn’t be late,” Narcissa admonished him through a tight smile.

“You promised this wouldn’t be a pouf pouf production, Mother,” Draco murmured back irritably.

“It was one number, and the girls certainly didn’t mind.”

Draco reined in a sigh. “Of course you’d find a way to wrangle every eligible girl into doing your bidding in half an hour’s time.”

“Give yourself some credit. You are a motivating prize.”

Draco brooded. Hermione had never thought of him as a prize. Nor had he ever thought her as one, despite his bungled confession not so long ago. Her value lay in her mind and her heart, not in her status or her appearance. And that was the difference between her and all these other ladies in attendance. As he kissed the hand of girl after girl—the simpering Lady Pansy of Parkinson, the fair sisters Greengrass, and even the sturdy Lady Millicent of Bulstrode—he felt like a child again, being hastily pushed into another betrothal.

“When are you going to dance, Draco? They are all waiting for you to take a partner.”

“Mother,” he began, “This isn’t what I meant when I said—”

The ballroom doors above them opened with a loud creak. 

Narcissa’s sharp gaze turned upwards, and she muttered to herself, “All who were invited are here, are they not?”

Draco turned to attention, hope beginning to bloom in his chest.

But it was only Dobby, who trembled on the landing of the staircase. His eyes were wide with fright as he signalled the orchestra to stop. “Y-Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he announced, “Lords and Ladies, m-may I present…”

He fell into a faint.

Draco pushed past the crowd, ignoring their surprised, disapproving din as he rushed to check on his house-elf.

Just as he Rennervated Dobby, the double doors swung wide. The elf scurried out of his arms, but Draco didn’t even notice. Because in the entryway stood the most beautiful creature Draco had ever seen.

“Hermione,” he breathed.

The crowd gasped and fell silent. Rumours of the princess’ demise had scattered, and those who hadn’t heard the gossip before had almost certainly heard it tonight.

The room was so quiet that Draco could hear his mother's distressed whisper. “It can’t be, Severus. How could it be?”

Scandalised whispers began to break out.

Draco rose slowly as he beheld her. She was as fine as he’d ever seen, with her skin gleaming and her every curve enveloped in an unexpected black gown. His throat caught as Hermione glided down the steps and stopped before him. She was just… And her hair. And that dress. He shook his head in wonder. 

“I was beginning to worry,” he began. “I thought—”

Hermione placed her delicate hand to his chest. “Nothing could keep me away.”

He took her hand in his and led her down the steps. The crowd parted. Among them, his mother gaped as Sirius and Severus looked on. While the former gave him a thumbs up, the latter eyed them skeptically. He paid them no mind. After tonight, no one would have a single doubt.

Draco snapped his fingers, and the orchestra put on a waltz. Their waltz.

“Dance with me?” he whispered.

SLYTHERIN CASTLE GARDENS

“We’re in Slytherin! This is the castle!” Theo cried. “Hermione, you did it! You got us out!”

The Portkey had worked. It had worked! But instead of relief, Hermione felt utterly ill. Whatever good the necklace had done her had been swiftly undone in the jump. It would have been enough to make her throw up her food, had she had anything to eat in the last day. She retched, but nothing made it out her swan neck.

“Princess!” Theo’s jubilation faded quickly. “I—I need to get a Healer! Or Draco! He’ll know what to do!” He carried Hermione to a spot by the pond, beneath her favourite tree. Nearby, Narcissa’s swans eyed her warily. “Will you be safe here?”

Please, she begged them. The prince is in danger. Help Theo warn him.

“There’s no one around,” Theo went on. “But do you hear that? Music! The queen’s ball is tonight!”

Hermione pushed him away with a feeble wing. Go, stop Bellatrix. Stop Greyback. Save Draco. Please.

One swan stepped out of the water, followed by another. 

“Get away from her!” Theo cried.

They honked at him with irritation. One swan sat next to Hermione and offered her some watercress, which she gratefully took. The other swan tried to herd Theo away, and get him to do Hermione’s bidding.

“You want me to go?”

“Oh-OH! Oh-OH!” Hermione cried weakly. Yes!

“But where?”

Three more swans craned their necks toward the castle doors. They looked unimpressed.

Hermione hoped Theo would figure it out. But she needed to do what she can. Maybe she could fly up to the windows, interrupt the party… Maybe Draco would notice. And if he was with Bellatrix, he’d think twice.

She tried to rise.

The swan next to her, a female who Hermione surmised was the elder of their flock, raised her wings and rumbled in motherly disapproval. She returned to the pond and bobbed her neck at a few others, who beat their wings and took flight.

Hermione was overcome with emotion. They were helping her!

Thank you, she wept inside. Thank you.

THE GRAND BALLROOM, SLYTHERIN CASTLE

They were a mere few counts into their waltz when Draco noticed it felt… unusual. It had been years since he and Hermione had last danced. Hermione was more graceful than ever, but they’d danced this waltz enough for him to know which parts she tended to need more leading through, which parts she thrilled at, and which parts she stubbornly tried to lead herself. But tonight, she was the perfect partner, stepping lightly at his touch and letting him take her through every movement with a docility he seldom encountered from her. The way she danced reminded him of his mother.

"Princess?" He hummed to the music. “Something about you seems… I don’t know. Different.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked lightly.

“Do you remember the last time we danced together?”

“It was just as lovely.”

“Really.” He’d thought about that awful party for years, and it was far from that. “You swore you’d never dance with me again. You swore you wouldn’t forget.”

“Perhaps I did not wish to remember it.”

“You wouldn’t. You thought I’d asked you to dance so I could make fun of you. In reality, I was simply jealous of Adrian and Marcus. I can admit that now.”

“Mmm, yes.” Hermione smiled politely.

It was unlike Hermione to forget anything. Remembering the minutiae of any and everything was a point of pride for her—she was simply that swotty. He'd once thought it an insufferable trait. Now, he wished she'd argue with him mid-box step.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco spied a flash of white in the ballroom’s high windows. Was that…?

Hermione swung them around with a grin on her face. “Oops,” she said, grinning.

Draco chuckled. That was more like it.

But then another flash of white flew into Draco’s line of vision. A swan? It pecked at the glass, seemingly trying to capture his attention.

He looked back down at Hermione. She rested her head against his heart as they swayed to the strains of the violins. He felt for the thrum in his chest. Its buzz was strong since the moment Hermione walked through the door, but as he peered at her neck, he noticed she wasn’t wearing her necklace. He returned his gaze to the swan pecking urgently at the window, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

“Where is your necklace, Princess?” Draco murmured. “I hoped you’d wear it for me tonight.”

“I forgot to put it back on,” tittered Hermione. “It’s right here.” She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a gleaming heart-shaped pendant on a silver chain. But if she wasn’t wearing it, why did Draco feel her in his chest?

“Don’t worry,” she flashed him a sweet smile. “After tonight, everything will be perfect.”

“Of course,” Draco said, his heart hammering hard. “Of course.”

SLYTHERIN CASTLE GARDENS

Hermione couldn’t afford to just lie around. Though she was still woozy, she had gathered just enough strength to stand and stretch her wings. The wide balcony connected to the grand ballroom wasn’t far from here. If she could just make her way there…

“Oh-OH!”  The swans around her flapped about, trying to dissuade her. Their sleepy cygnets chirped at her feet.

She shook her head at them. I’m sorry, my friends, but I need to try.

She beat her aching wings with all her might until finally, she was airborne.

THE GRAND BALLROOM, SLYTHERIN CASTLE

Draco led Hermione about the floor a couple more times until the music came to a close.

Now or never. As the guests applauded, Draco walked Hermione over to the center of the dance floor. He ran his hands down her arms as he addressed the room. “Ladies and gentlemen.” He turned to Narcissa. “Mother. I wish to make an announcement.”

Narcissa clutched Lord Snape’s arm, awash with emotion.

“Yesterday, I found the woman I had always wanted to marry. It’s funny, because I’ve known her my entire life. When I had every chance to be by her side, I got it all wrong. And when I lost her, I thought nothing would be right again. Tonight, I wanted to begin making up for all the wrongs I’d done her. To make her a vow before everyone here. A vow of everlasting love. But...”

To Hermione, he whispered, “Turn around. May I put your necklace on?”

She shot him the sweetest smile, and his throat closed up. He had never seen her smile at him like that. She moved her long curls to the side as he reached his arms over her head. “I have one question to ask you,” he said. And then he yanked the chain to tight to her throat. “Who are you, and what have you done to Hermione?”

Over the crowd’s horrified gasps, Narcissa cried, “Draco!”

Hermione—or her impostor—scratched at his arm before emitting a choked laugh. “You’re not as dumb as everyone says,” she hissed.

He tightened his chokehold and brought his wand to her head. “I won’t ask again.”

“Your princess will pay dearly for this, nephew.” Her lips curled into a feral snarl.

“Bellatrix?” Narcissa gasped.

Severus held her back. “Your Majesty!”

Suddenly, thunder and lightning crashed outside, and the balcony doors blasted wide open. A gust of wind blew out all the candles, sending guests running and screaming into the corners of the ballroom.

A hulking figure appeared in their midst, clutching a struggling person by the neck.

It was Theo!

“Draco!” he screamed. “Stay back! It’s—”

“Greyback.” Draco growled.

The man sauntered into the room, tossing Theo aside easily. “Hello, Little Prince.”

Draco’s jaw clenched. “What have you done to Hermione!” he demanded.

Greyback leered. “Hermione,” he snarled, “is mine. You’ve only sped up the inevitable, boy. Don’t worry, we’ll be done here soon.”

Bellatrix bit down on Draco’s arm, and he released her with a surprised cry. Then Greyback cast his wand towards Bellatrix, whose borrowed skin jerked and bubbled up grotesquely as she returned to her original form. His stomach churned as he beheld her scraggly hair, blackened teeth, and the mad glint in her eye. She grabbed a wand from a bystander and pointed it at Draco.

“Everybody out!” Draco shouted at the guests. Left and right, they ran and Apparated away.

Sirius, Remus, and Severus sprang into action, blocking Narcissa and aiming Stunners and hexes at both intruders. Bellatrix dodged them nimbly, shooting back curses of her own.

Greyback, who had doubled over momentarily, broke out into a maniacal grin. “Enough!” He pointed a wand at Draco, Narcissa, and the three men, petrifying them with a sinister, ice-cold curse. Draco fought against his invisible bonds, but it was no use.

Bellatrix let out a cackle.

It was then that a swan barrelled through the doors and crashed into Greyback. Around its neck hung a shining silver necklace.

Hermione! Draco strained harder, trying every wandless spell he could think of, but to no avail.

Though the werewolf swung at her hard, she pecked at him ferociously and managed to snap his wand in half. The effect was instantaneous—the petrifying curse broke, and Draco and the others fell hard to the ground. But before he could get up, Greyback grabbed Hermione by the neck.  “What’s this?” he taunted as she struggled in his grasp. “Another late guest? I still have plans for us, Princess. You’re just going to have to wait!”

“NO!” Draco watched in horror as Greyback sent Hermione hurtling off the balcony. He reached for his wand to Apparate after her.

“Where do you think you’re going, Little Prince?” Greyback growled. He beat his massive chest and bellowed, “After tonight, everything you own, and everything you love will be mine.”

Red flashes of light erupted from Greyback’s chest as he transformed into the most grotesque beast Draco had ever seen: a creature that looked just like a werewolf, but with talons for feet, and enormous bat wings protruding from its mangy shoulders. A scaly tail erupted from its spine and whipped around its torso. He, Sirius, and Remus hit Greyback with strong Stunning spells and Slicing Hexes, but they only bounced off the beast’s skin.

“Use Slashers! Blast him!” Draco shouted, but too late. The Great Animal—Greyback—let out a piercing shriek and charged at him.

“Draco, watch out!” Narcissa screamed.

Draco dove out of the way, throwing Blasting Curses at Greyback’s chest. Chest blooming with blood, the beast howled in rage and launched itself into the air, and leapt off the balcony.

A whizzing flash of light shot in his direction, followed by Bellatrix's shrill cackle. She sloppily aimed several more in his direction, until she got hit in the stomach by a sickening flash of purple. His aunt toppled over where she stood, clutching her stomach and bleeding at the mouth.

“How dare you, Bella. You killed my husband!” Narcissa trembled with rage, her wand smoking in her hand. “You will never lay a hand on my son!”

“Severus,” Draco shouted, “Stay with Mother. Sirius, Remus, come with me!”

The trio Apparated into the gardens below. There was no sight of the beast, but down by the pond, a bevy of swans surrounded their fallen companion.

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Sirius told Draco. “Go to her.”

He sprinted over, his heart in his throat. 

As if the swans understood, they parted to let him through.

“Hermione?”

She lay on the ground, breathing shallowly. She tried to crane her swan’s neck at the sound of his voice.

“Don't move.” Draco remembered the complex, form-revealing incantation he’d found in The Body of Spells. He’d meant it for Greyback, but he had to try… “Homorphous.”

A second passed. Two. And then, like a lily unfolding, Hermione’s swan gently unfurled to reveal her limp human form.

Draco cradled her in his arms, stroking her hair tenderly. “What have I done to you?” He never should have left her in the hands of those monsters. “Forgive me, Hermione. Forgive me.” He held her close, fearing that if he couldn’t feel hear breathing, he might cease to do the same.

“Draco?” Hermione stirred. Her voice was fragile, and softer than he’d ever heard before. But it allowed him to hope.

“Yes, Princess. I’m here.”

“Draco...” She clutched his tunic. Her eyes brimmed with pained tears, and she looked exhausted. “It hurts.”

“I know.” Righteous anger bubbled in his stomach. He couldn't even imagine the pain she had endured to reach him. He'd been so foolish. Greyback needed to pay.

“I feel so weak. I don’t think I’ll…”

He took her face in his hands, directing all his attention to her. “No. Don't say that. You’ll live, Hermione. Please have faith. I can’t lose you.”

Hermione reached up to stroke his face. Through her trembling lips fell the words he'd longed to hear for so long. “I love you, Draco.”

It was the first time she’d ever said those words to him. And it could very well be the last. Her hand dropped, and her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness in his arms.

“Hermione?” Draco shook her lightly. “Hermione!” She would not come to. Shakily, he lowered her body onto the ground and pressed an ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was so faint and so slow, he could barely hear it over his own. He felt overcome by disbelief, despair and growing rage.

A roar sounded over the silence of the lake, followed by the sounds of a skirmish.

“Draco!” Sirius yelled.

Draco whipped his head around and witnessed Greyback tackling his former teachers to the ground. He gnashed his teeth at them, but Remus fought him back with a mighty heave. But both men were no match for the Great Animal, who sent them flying into the colonnade. They slumped down, unmoving.

Draco wasted no time, casting Blasting Curses at Greyback with all his might. That monster would never take his kingdom or Hermione’s. He would never harm his friends. He would never harm the princess again. Not if Draco could help it.

The beast screeched and lunged at him with impossible speed. His talons gripped Draco’s shoulders hard, and then they were flying, flying, up into the air. Draco continued to cast blindly, hoping his curses would land. Greyback howled with rage, and suddenly Draco was falling quickly.

But before Draco could cast a Cushioning Charm, the beast picked him up again and threw him into the trees. The wind got knocked out of his burning lungs as his body hit a tree trunk, and again when he fell from a great height to the ground below.

Wincing, he picked himself up. He held his wand at the ready as he peered around him for any sign of Greyback. A commotion sounded from the ballroom, making it difficult for him to detect the beast.

Draco squinted about him. It was too dark, but he did not dare cast a Lumos. A sweep of the moonless sky reminded him just how badly he’d miscalculated things. On instinct, he edged towards Hermione. He needed to keep her safe.

There she lay, still as death beneath her tree. Before Draco could move much further, Greyback pounced from where he’d been lurking above, and pinned Draco to the ground by his shoulders.

Draco’s wand snapped, and he grasped around him for something, anything that might save him. His fingers closed around some loose rocks and dirt, and he flung it into Greyback's eyes. While his adversary reeled and screeched, Draco delivered a swift kick to his groin and sent him swooping away.

Draco now had a small window of opportunity. He breathed hard, wincing from the pain in his side. He had surely broken a few ribs. Still, he did his best to run in the direction of Sirius and Remus, praying they still had their wands on them.

“Draco! DRACO!”

He turned towards the sound of his name. “Theo?”

His best friend was rushing towards him, waving a bow and a quiver of arrows about. But Greyback had seen them, and was gaining on him from high above with loud flaps of his wings.

“Summon!” Theo shouted. “Do it now!”

He didn't need a wand for that.

“Accio!” he yelled, and the bow and quiver were in his hands in a second. He nocked an arrow and swept around, releasing it as true as he could. Miracle of all miracles, the arrow met its mark.

Silver, not curses. King Albus’s words echoed in Draco’s head as Greyback groaned. Flashes of red light sparked and sizzled from where the poisoned silver arrow had embedded itself in his heart. 

The beast’s wings gave out. He careened swiftly downwards, crashing into the ground with a heavy thud and the sickening crunch of bone. An explosion of light reached out violently, then puffed out in a cloud of rancid smoke. Draco didn’t even need to ascertain that Greyback was no more. He simply knew it.

Heaving, heavily, he lowered his bow and clutched his side. He’d gotten lucky. Luckier than he deserved.

Theo approached him slowly. “You all right?”

Draco shook his head. “Where is Mother? Does she need—”

Theo gesticulated wildly. “You should have seen her. She took her sister down hard.”

Draco released a sigh of relief. That was good. Very good. “Where are the Aurors?”

“The Great Animal took them out.”

“Alert the Healers. And please… tend to Sirius and Remus. I….” He trailed off, looking in Hermione’s direction. “There’s something I need to do.”

---

Hermione felt like she was drowning. She tried to breathe in, but she couldn’t. Everything hurt. Her body had been wrung out, beaten, and cursed, and then shifted back into her human form. And now, she was dying.

After Draco had laid her down, she fought hard to stay awake. It was difficult to open her eyes again, even with the pandemonium around her. Draco… at least she got to tell him she loved him, even if there were so many things she wished she could have said and done. Had she brought tonight upon them?

Her heart ached at the thought of him and her kingdom. She wanted to sob, but she couldn’t. Her father was gone, and soon she would be, too. She tried to find solace in one fact about her death: Greyback would never have Gryffindor. The wards would lock him out if he failed to bind himself to her. She hoped Draco would care for her kingdom, even if she wouldn’t be by his side. He would be a strong leader, a king her people deserved.

Draco needed to survive. He needed to defeat Greyback and Bellatrix.

Please, Draco, she prayed as the sounds of fighting rang around her. For me.

She coughed. It tasted like blood, metallic and sour and heavy in her mouth. 

The necklace she still wore thrummed low upon her chest. Throughout her ordeal, it had enveloped her in a cool, healing embrace. It was probably the only thing keeping her alive. It would not be enough, but Hermione wept as the pain was slowly leached from her bones, from her organs and her skin. One last kindness. Right as she felt herself finally drifting back into unconsciousness, a loud wail and the sounds of magic startled her back awake.

She heard familiar footsteps, light but urgent, making their way to her. Draco.

He took her in his arms again. She could hear it in his breath—he’d been hurt. He was hurting. She wished she could reach out and touch him. 

“Forgive me, Hermione,” he whispered the same words from before. “I only wanted to break the curse. To prove…”

Tears pricked behind her closed eyes. It’s all right, she wanted to say. You don’t need to say it.

But then, he did.

“I needed to prove that I love you,” Draco confessed. “I keep thinking about what I said that day. You’re so beautiful, and I can’t believe… can’t believe I couldn’t tell you everything I meant by that.” He was trembling. She felt him tenderly sweep her curls out of her face. “You should know… that I think you’re brilliant, and brave, and frustrating. And kind. And far too good for me. I am in love with you, Hermione, and I have been for a very long time.” He barely croaked it out, but she could hear all the sureness in his voice—all the love and pain. It fed her soul to hear it, and she felt a stirring in her spine, her strength quietly returning to her.

“These last two years were painful,” Draco continued. “I don't think you would believe me when I say... It killed me not seeing you, not hearing from you. I missed you. But I didn’t deserve you. Not after everything.

“But you know what? This last month was so much worse. Do you know I nearly went out of my mind trying to find you? So to lose you…” A wrangled sob slipped from his throat.

“Maybe it’s what I deserve. But not you, never you,” he whispered brokenly. “If I could take everything you suffered for myself, I would. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never should have let you go. There’s so much I wanted to make up for. Even if I couldn’t have you by my side. And now…” He pressed a gentle kiss to her brow and buried his face in her hair. She felt his quiet sobs, his hot tears trickling down his cheek and hers.

“Draco.” Hermione willed herself to open her eyes. Enough of her strength had been restored, and with it a renewed sense of self—a sensation that she was whole again. It felt like a promise that while she still lay bent and broken, she would be all right.

“Princess?” He pulled back with disbelief.

“You did it,” she whispered, raising her hands to cup his face. She wept as he held her tight and kissed her, finally, upon her waiting lips. “You did it.”

Chapter Text

PRINCE DRACO'S WING, SLYTHERIN CASTLE, SUMMER 11

“She’s awake, Your Highness,” Dobby informed the prince three days after the incident. Draco nodded once, trying to contain himself as he called his meeting to an early close.

He Apparated to his wing of the castle, where two chambers have been set up next to his: one for Sirius and Remus, and another for Hermione.

He rapped on her door and wiped his hands on his trousers. He felt like a boy again, awkward and unsure as he waited.

His mother opened the door with an exasperated smile. “Shouldn’t you be with the Consul of Beauxbatons today?” she chided him.

“Shouldn’t you be resting, Mother?” 

“Pish-posh. It was one duel, Draco. I am fine.”

Narcissa had indeed taken care of her mad sister with a startling efficiency that Lord Snape seemed impressed to impart. Draco had eyed his mother warily since then, wholly unsure of what other weapons she had at her disposal. Today, it was her old standby: nagging.

“You need to be out reassuring our guests that all is well. Have you asked how they were? What about reparations?”

“They weren’t that angry, and this couldn’t wait,” he said. “Is she…?”

Narcissa stepped aside to let him in. “She asked for you. I’ll go see about tea.”

As she closed the door behind her, Draco padded past the antechamber and into the bedroom proper.

Hermione sat on her four-poster bed, a book on her lap as she gazed out the window. The indirect afternoon sun cast a pretty glow on her face, and she looked in good health, especially against the blue papered walls.

“Hello, Princess.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Hello, Draco.”

“Have you been awake for long?”

“About an hour? Though for the first time, I don’t feel like I want to go right back to bed.”

“That’s good.” Though Hermione had survived her ordeal, she had needed much more than the help of a necklace to nurse her back to health. A team of Healers had serviced her and the others assiduously, and a tray laden with potions lay by her bedside.

“Lord Snape tells me I have you to thank for some of these.” She gestured at the vials.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck. “It was nothing. I didn’t want to give you anything we didn’t brew ourselves.”

“They worked very well, thank you. The Healers say I’m ready to go outside again.”

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Maybe tomorrow. How are Lord Black and Master Lupin?”

“They’re perfectly all right. They went hunting today, if I’m not mistaken. With Theo.”

Hermione chuckled. “Dear, brave Theo. He was a great help.”

“Won’t stop crowing about it,” Draco said. But he was glad of it, so he allowed Theo his glory. Even if his boasting had gone on and on.

They lapsed into silence, and while Hermione looked comfortable, Draco resisted the urge to fidget. After all, she’d slept for the better part of three days, time during which he had been alone with his feelings. He had thought and thought of what he would finally say to her when he had the chance, and once again, he was coming up short.

“These aren’t my usual chambers,” Hermione remarked, looking back out the window.

“No, they’re not.” Hers had been in Narcissa’s wing of the castle, overlooking the queen’s famous rose gardens. “You’re in my wing. But I can arrange for you to be transferred if you wish.”

“Oh!” Hermione tucked her chin down, but Draco noted she looked rather pleased. “No, no, this is fine.”

“All right.”

She grinned. “You’ve never let me in your wing before.”

“Please don’t remind me,” he said, cringing. “I was a right brute.”

“You had your moments.” Hermione looking around. “It’s a beautiful room.”

Indeed, it was fit for a queen. Draco’s, specifically. All decked out in blue and light wood, the bedroom occupied a corner of the castle that mirrored his.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” Draco offered, hoping she knew what that meant.

Simple but fine pieces of art decorated the space, but Hermione’s eyes drifted to where a large bookshelf stood next to a large window. A reading nook. “Well, my old room didn’t have that.” She smiled. “Can we?”

“Of course.”

Hermione didn’t need assistance getting out of bed. Thankfully so, because Draco nearly balked at the sight of her in only her robe and nightgown. Only his years of breeding and a dash of Occlumency kept his expression impassive.

“You don’t need to do that around me.” Hermione eyed him shrewdly. “I don’t want you to.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologising, Draco.” She took his hand in hers and walked them to the window. “I think we’re past that now.”

Draco let his Occlumency walls fall with some reluctance and willed himself to speak. “I don’t think I’ll ever be through apologising to you, Princess.”

“You saved my life,” she said simply.

“You wouldn’t have been in danger if not for me.”

“Not so,” she said. “Greyback and Bellatrix had been planning this for two years.”

“I never should have left you with them.”

“I asked you to leave.”

Draco sighed. “It seems we shall never agree.”

“No,” Hermione grinned. “Though that’s something I’ve grown to like about us.”

“Us.” A smile pulled at his lips. “I like the sound of that.”

“I do, too.” So they could agree on some things, after all.

Draco looked down at their joined hands. Though Hermione's fingers had long outgrown the plumpness of youth, her hand never looked so small in his. But this time, he never wished to let it go. He brought it up to his lips and kissed it gently, admiring her pretty blush as he did so.

“You’re staring,” Hermione accused.

So he was. “There’s still a lot we need to talk about.”

“I know. There are many things that need my attention now, and yours. Matters of Gryffindor and—“

“Hold on,” he interrupted. “Those things can wait. I just wanted to ask how you are.”

Hermione's expression softened. “I hardly know. When I find myself thinking I’m happy to be alive, I remember my father and then I’m overcome with guilt. And then I think of you and…” She caught the quirk of his lips. “Oh, don’t look at me that way!”

“Look at you what way?” he asked, all innocence.

“Like you… ugh!” She smacked his chest. “You know what I mean.”

“I think a lot of things get lost in translation where you and I are concerned.”

“You’re lucky you’re so handsome.”

He knew he was grinning like a fool now. “What else?” he joked.

“What else is there? Honestly, Draco. Did you think I loved you for your heart or something?”

There was that word again. Love. She loved him. His heart swelled. “No, you most certainly only like my face.”

Hermione reached up to cup his cheek. “It is a nice face.” Her smile dropped a little. “Father would've been so smug. He was right about you, you know. Our last conversation… it was about you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He had great faith in you, even when I had my doubts. He believed you’d prove yourself if I let you.”

“I’m grateful you did. I hardly deserved your regard. Or his.”

“He loved you like a son.”

Words Draco never thought he had longed to hear. “He was like a father to me, too.”

Hermione nodded. “Would you… could you take me to see him?”

“Anything you want.”

THE ROYAL FAMILY CRYPT

“I’m sorry,” Hermione sniffled in Draco’s arms later. “I didn’t realise how many more tears I had left until you took me here.”

They sat before her father’s tomb, where he had gently told her the story of how he’d found King Albus and their contingent. He’d given her room to grieve in private, but she found she preferred his company. So he let her cry in his arms for as long as she wanted.

“It’s no trouble,” Draco said. He rubbed soothing circles on her back with his thumb.

And after her tears dried, they walked through the garden, hands intertwined, quietly discussing their way forward.

“Mother is preparing to abdicate in the winter,” Draco informed her. “She says she isn’t tired, but after that mess with her sister, I think she finally realised that she’s earned her rest.”

“So you will be King of Slytherin.” Hermione smiled. He was ready and she knew it.

Draco grimaced. “And you will be—you are technically already the Queen of Gryffindor.”

Queen. Though she knew she’d been prepared well to assume the role, it was a daunting prospect to tackle alone, and at so young an age. She confessed as much to him.

“You don’t…” Draco began, “you don’t have to go at it alone, if you don’t want to.”

His cheeks and ears were pink, Hermione noticed, but she knew better now than to assume. So she looked him in the eye, and waited patiently for him to parse out his thoughts.

“I mean… I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing into what we have, no matter what our parents’ expectations were. But. I want to be there for you, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. As an ally. Or a friend. Or a lover. And…”

“Yes?”

“And...” He squeezed her hand tighter. “I want to earn your love. Properly. We’ve known one another our whole lives, Princess, and the last thing I want is for you to feel is that I only love you becauss it's convenient. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. When the time is right, perhaps… That is, I hope… I hope you’ll come to see me as someone worthy of standing by your side.”

Hermione burrowed her nose into his chest, taking in his clean scent. It was not a proposal per se, but it was better. For the first time, she allowed herself to see it: a future with Draco, he the king and she the queen of their unified kingdoms. Perhaps they’d bind their magic in private, and then hold a big wedding celebration for the benefit of all their people. Maybe two celebrations, if Gryffindor and Slytherin were not joined by then. He’d wear his finest regalia for the occasion, and she’d wear a flowing white gown. Perhaps one with swan feathers? The thought made her smile.

“How about it?” Draco asked. “Will you let me try?” He played with a loose curl, his casual demeanour belying his anticipation of her answer. She already knew he was worthy, but she loved his words of intent nonetheless.

“I’d like that very much,” she whispered as she leaned in and kissed him.

Finally, this was her idea of love.

FIN