One Life for Another

Two days after her return, Hermione woke feeling an almost unbearable urge to return to the Lake. It was a sensation almost like paranoia, as if some part of her was so concerned about her duties that she couldn’t function unless she went and performed them. She went quickly to dress and left Grimmauld Place without an explanation to anyone. Any unnecessary delay was very nearly agonizing to her.

It wasn’t hard to apparate back to the Malfoy property, and she quickly made her way back to the Lake. Finding the entrance to Nimue’s home was easier than she had expected. It was as if the land itself was welcoming her, and the Lake was revealing itself to her. As she descended the stairs and came to that familiar door she felt a tug on her heart, then a pain like a knife piercing it, but she shook it off and entered.

The cavern home was every bit as she remembered it, with stasis charms on much of it and everything organized neatly. It was the epitome of home to her mind and she quickly set to exploring every inch of it. On the table by the hearth Hermione found a stack of papers. At the top of it sat two letters, one with her name on it and the other with Galahad’s. She found her hands shaking as she picked hers up and opened it, leaning against the table to read.

My Dear Hermione,

There is so much I have yet to teach you, and yet fate has not permitted me to do so in person. I am leaving notes for you of those things we didn’t have time for. I trust your bookish nature will make quick work of them and make up for my lack of presence with you. I have left herbs and potions also, though I’m not sure how well the stasis spells will hold over the next fifteen centuries.

Give your Protector my regards. I wish I could be there to see your daughter be born. Train her well. Between the three of you, I trust all will be set right.


Nimue

Hermione had to smile there at the end. Nimue had never been one for long and drawn out explanations, although the stack of notes looked like they would be very thorough. She wondered if the last paragraph was what Nimue hoped for or if she had actually seen the future. Hermione had to admit that the idea of finding a Protector in this life was appealing to her, though she was sure she would always wish it could have been Galahad instead.

With a sigh she picked up the stack of notes and began studying. If she was to be of any use as Lady of the Lake, she needed to hurry her learning along.


Draco Malfoy walked back into his bedroom after having taken a shower, full of ideas for his day. The Dark Lord seemed to be in a good mood because he had finally ceased in giving Draco endless little tasks that left the Malfoy heir tired and covered in blood. It was a relief to have a day to himself, and he wasn’t having and problems thinking of possibilities for it.

He made it about halfway across the room when he felt a sharp pain in his chest and fell down onto his knees. The pain was focused on his chest, but the rest of his body ached as well, and a dull throb was beginning to take its place.

Unexplainably Draco began to see images, one after another, passing through his mind so quickly that he barely had time to process one scene before he saw another.

He saw himself as a young boy, playing by the lake with a man dressed as a knight from the stories. He saw a woman who walked as if the very earth itself would move at her request, but she still came to his rescue when the little boy scraped his knee or bumped his head.

He saw himself as a young man, just done with his training and the feeling of elation upon being knighted by Arthur. He saw the cold winter nights spent by the fire, listening to Merlin’s stories.

He saw himself travelling in the forest and coming upon a girl from another time, and feeling as though he would die for her. He saw himself training under the Lady, and losing the girl.

He saw the Holy Grail, felt the cold blade in his hand...

And he knew. As Draco finished reliving the memories, he felt a tug on his heart. The Lady had returned to the Lake. She was so close, but he could not bring himself to go to her. Instead he lay on the floor, his heart processing those things that his mind could not wrap itself around.

He was Draco Malfoy. He was also Galahad du Lac, though only today had he remembered it. Today, the day the girl returned as the Lady. That was the catch, really. Galahad loved the girl more than life itself, and had sacrificed that life in hopes of spending another in which he could be with her. Draco, on the other hand, recognized the girl as the Mudblood Granger, the know-it-all bookworm he had wanted for years. He’d not handled the attraction well, and had turned to cruelty towards her to hide from it. Did it matter that every time he’d called her a ‘Mudblood’ and smirked at her, a little part of him had mirrored the pain that would be in her eyes?

And all of that childhood cruelty could compare to his actions during this war, when he had stood by while his Aunt Bella tortured Granger her beyond the point many others could bear. When he had chased her into the forest after her escape, wondering if he could really bring himself to kill her if he found her. It wasn’t just what he had done to her though, but what he had done to everyone else as well. Galahad du Lac had not been called Galahad the Pure for no reason, and the knight that had only wished to help and protect others cringed terribly at the realization of what horrors he had committed as Draco Malfoy.

As the two lives were processed, and Draco felt himself become as one person with memories that just happened to go back further in time, a feeling of despair set in. He was a Death Eater. He was tied to the Dark Lo... to Voldemort. There was no escape, as his godfather was proof of. Severus Snape had felt deeply the loss of Lily Evans. Would Draco be forced to feel the loss of Hermione Granger as well?

He could feel her nearby, so close to him, but he couldn’t go to her. How would he be able to explain? And would she forgive him? Or would she look at him and see only Draco Malfoy, the cruel boy, and nothing of Galahad?

He didn’t think he would be able to handle the look in her eyes if she rejected him, and really, he had no right to expect anything else. In the last life he may have been a good man, but in this life he had not been. Maybe one day he would be able to make atonement for his sins, but for now he just needed to survive.

A new pain laced through him as his Dark Mark began to hurt terribly, and Draco fought to control his emotions before going before Voldemort. Whatever he decided to do, he could not let Voldemort see his inner turmoil. Draco would just have to deal with whether or not Hermione would forgive him later.

Pushing Hermione and just how close by she was out of his mind, Draco disapparated.


Back in the Lady of the Lake’s home, Hermione had gotten a good deal of the notes read and begun taking a few of her own. She felt a pang of loss suddenly, as if some comforting presence had left her, and could no longer concentrate on her studies. Her mind was full of Galahad, and whether he was okay. Granted, he had died centuries ago, but in her mind he was still the way she had left him. Had he finished his training and done well? Surely he had, but she could not turn to the myths for answers.

Had he ever married? Had any children? Hermione hoped he’d been happy, but couldn’t bear the thought of him being with anyone else. She wondered who the father of her daughter would be, and that was the thought that stopped her in her tracks.

She, the know-it-all who always found a solution to everything, had forgotten a contraceptive spell.