Fate's Path

Hermione Granger had spent the last four months of her life working to prove the innocence of a man who had once been her childhood nemesis. Now that the war against Voldemort had been fought and won, Death Eaters were being rounded up. Draco Malfoy had been apprehended by Aurors more than two years after he had fled from the wizarding world.

It had surprised Hermione when she had received a letter from Malfoy a few days after he had been sent to Azkaban to await his trial, requesting she visit him. Her friends had tried to talk her out of going, but she had been very curious to see why Malfoy would want to see her.

When she saw him for the first time, it was as if she was looking at an entirely different man. The self-assured, arrogant boy she had known was no longer visible. The man who sat in front of her was gaunt, dirty and anguished. She hadn’t walked into the meeting planning to feel any sort of pity for the boy she had once known, but after seeing the bleakness in his eyes, the pity rushed through her.

He didn’t apologize for the way he had treated her growing up; he just started talking. He told her he had nowhere else to turn, and she was the only one who could help him. He told her his side of the story as to what had happened that night so long ago on the tower at Hogwarts, and she didn’t interrupt. His story was nearly exactly the same as the one Harry had told her just after Dumbledore’s funeral. Malfoy didn’t claim that he was innocent; instead, he seemed to accept the responsibility for the things he had done, and she could clearly see the guilt in his eyes as he spoke.

When he finished, she had asked him why he felt she could help him. He confessed that shortly before Severus Snape’s death a year previously, Snape had told him that if he was ever caught, he needed to go straight to Hermione. If there was anyone who could help him, it would be her, just because of her ability to look past the obvious and see what was really going on in a situation. When Draco had been caught, he hadn’t wanted anyone to help him; he knew he was guilty of leading the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that night, but he knew he couldn’t refuse Snape’s last request.

Hermione hadn’t known what to say to the confession that Snape, the man who had tortured her through six years of school, had held her in such regard. Draco confirmed her suspicions that Snape had still been on the right side of the war, no matter what anything had looked like.

She admitted to Draco there really was nothing she could do, but Draco had asked one last favor of her. He wanted her to go retrieve the contents of a safety deposit box in a Muggle bank in Leeds. Snape had told him before he died that there was something important in that box that could help people understand the activities of that night.

Hermione had been intrigued and had agreed to track down the items left behind by Snape. She hadn’t expected to find anything that would sway her opinion of not being able to help, but her curiosity once again had trapped her.

She was surprised to find about a dozen crystal bottles, all with a silvery-white substance swirling around inside of them. She knew immediately that she was looking at what Professor Snape considered to be very important memories. She anxiously took them back to her small cottage in Hogsmeade after acquiring a Pensieve, and spent the evening immersed in Severus Snape’s memories. She had mixed emotions experiencing the memories, from anger to sadness and shock. She had been surprised by the lengths Professor Snape had gone to in order to help Dumbledore through his life. She had seen Snape’s version of what had happened that night on the tower, and saw what he had to do. She had seen the memory where Dumbledore had told Snape there would come a time when he would have to be the one to strike him down. She had seen Snape’s adamant refusal and had seen Dumbledore convince him it was the only way. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear dropped from her face onto her hand.

She waited a few days before returning to Azkaban, processing everything in her mind. When she saw Malfoy, she knew she had to help him. People had to understand why he did what he did. People had to know that Dumbledore had been aware of what Draco had been planning all along. They had to know that it was Dumbledore’s idea to allow the plan to happen, hoping he could help Draco, who had only been doing everything to prevent the death of his parents at Voldemort’s hand.

Despite the circumstances, Hermione knew that Draco would never have been able to save his parents. The night of the attack on the tower, Voldemort had killed Narcissa, and at the same time, Death Eaters had broken into Azkaban and killed Lucius. There had been nothing Draco could have done to prevent their deaths, as Voldemort had planned to kill his parents no matter what.

Hermione told Draco she would try and help him in his trial, but with no legal experience or training, she wasn’t sure how much she could do. He had accepted that, telling her that he would be grateful for any help she could provide even if it was for naught.

Hermione had taken a leave of absence from her job as an undersecretary in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to work full-time on the case for Draco.

Going into the trial, she was nervous because a man’s life rested in her hands. If she did not provide him with adequate council, he would be sentenced to death. She didn’t have much confidence in proving him innocent because the two people who could help her case had both been killed. Knowing Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore couldn’t testify, Hermione had argued that memories involving conversations between the two of them, be allowed into evidence. She had set a precedent by actually getting the court to accept the memories as evidence.

She tried not to show her worry to Draco throughout the trial, but it was difficult, even though she knew Draco had faith in her. The jury seemed to be disregarding everything she had tried to prove, and it wasn’t until the last day of the trial that Hermione decided to take a chance and put one of her best friends on the stand. Hermione called Harry Potter to the stand, and everyone had been shocked, including Draco. Hermione had tried to convey to Draco that he should trust her, but she could see his faith wavering.

Hermione had hoped that with maturity and time, Harry would see the past few years in a different light. She had spoken with him before the trial about the possibility of calling him to the stand, but Harry hadn’t been able to say for certain what he would say. He had been present in the courtroom every day of the trial, hearing all the testimony. In the end, Harry’s testimony had been the turning point in the case when he testified that he didn’t blame Draco for anything that had happened that evening. Before the prosecutor could stop him, Harry had confessed that if he had been in the same position as Draco, he would have done the same thing.

The courtroom exploded, people not believing they heard the man who had saved the wizarding world make such a confession. Harry and his confession had been the reason that it took only moments for a jury to return a verdict of not guilty.

Hermione couldn’t believe she had done it. She had taken the chance and put the one living witness who had been on the tower that night on the stand, and he had managed to put aside his past differences in order to see the truth of what had really happened.

Draco had been swept away by the reporters, each of them wanting to be the first to interview the man they had condemned just hours before. Hermione had managed to slip away unnoticed after nodding at Harry, silently thanking him for looking at things in an impartial light and telling the truth.

All Hermione wanted now was to relax. The trial had tired her out. All she could think about was getting a full night’s sleep, something that she had been deprived of ever since deciding to help Draco with his case.

Hermione quickly Apparated to Hogsmeade and hurried in the direction of her home that was just outside of town. It looked as if it was going to rain any minute. The sky had grown very dark and the wind had picked up, blowing scattered debris along the street.

As she made her way up the path to her cottage, she was surprised to see Malfoy on her porch, pacing back and forth, holding a large bouquet of lilies in his hands. When he looked up and saw her, he broke into the first smile Hermione had seen from him in months.

She tried not to think about what it meant that he had arrived here at her home, but she couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach. She had been surprised to find that working so closely with Draco in Azkaban had given her a new opinion of him. His ego had taken quite a blow when he had been forced to run for his life, only to be caught later. He had been humbled and had been forced to turn to the one person he had never been able to resist tormenting. Knowing what she now knew about him, Hermione finally understood that the insults that had always poured from his lips had been the product of his upbringing, not necessarily what he truly thought deep down inside. No one had ever bothered to look deep inside of him before, and in preparing for the trial, Hermione had been forced to do just that.

She tried not to appear nervous when she spoke. “How did you manage to break away from all those reporters?”

Draco smirked in his usual manner before gloating, “I pushed them in the direction of Potter.”

“You didn’t!” Hermione gasped as she fumbled for her key to unlock the door.

“I did,” Draco confirmed. “He looked as if he wanted to hex my arse, too. I bet he was regretting giving his testimony, but I had to do it. I couldn’t stand another reporter getting in my face or someone taking another picture of me. Potter has so many fans that I thought they wouldn’t mind hearing from him. He hasn’t had much press since the war ended.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Hermione laughed as she held the door open for Draco to enter her home.

She watched as he entered and looked around. It wasn’t the best cottage in the world, and it was certainly nothing compared to what Malfoy Manor had been before the Ministry had confiscated it and torn it apart looking for evidence against Draco.

To Hermione, it was home. It was a place she liked to spend time when she wasn’t in the office working fourteen hour days. She was a bit embarrassed to have company though because her house was still a mess from all the research she had been doing for the trial.

The dining room table was covered with legal books, both from the Muggle and wizarding worlds, which Hermione had been using to research similar cases. The Pensieve she had acquired was still sitting there, Snape’s memories lined up next to it, in a row in order of importance.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she apologized.

Draco shrugged his shoulders and walked to the table, picking up the closest crystal bottle holding one of Snape’s memories. “I never knew what he had put in that strange box. I never knew he had kept his own memories bottled up. I feel like I owe him so much.”

Hermione could hear the guilt in Draco’s voice. “He knew what he was doing, Draco. He knew that if he couldn’t save himself, he could save you.”

Draco smiled wistfully and carefully placed the crystal back on the table. He turned towards her, and for the first time she saw the light come back in his eyes, the light that had been missing ever since their school years. He slowly advanced on her, and he could see he was making her uncomfortable. Stopping just short of her, he said quietly, “He’s not the only person I owe. You have earned my gratitude, Hermione.”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to protest, looking away from him.

His hand came to her face, and she was surprised by how gentle he was as he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Bullocks. You saved my life. You were able to put the past behind you and help me."

Hermione didn’t know what to say. Her stomach was churning again from having Draco touch her. She had never imagined she would have ever been attracted to the arrogant prat, but here she was, her heart thumping so loud that she thought he could hear it as well.

“I’ve never apologized for the way I treated you in school, and I don’t plan to apologize. I can’t take it back by groveling at your feet for forgiveness. I can only tell you that I did what I thought was right back then. I did what I knew. Hiding out for the last two years changed me, Hermione. It made me into a different person, so different that I barely recognize myself when I look into a mirror. Always looking over your shoulder, alone with your thoughts, thinking about what you have done, changes a man. I can never take back my part in any of this. I used to wish I could take it all back, but right now in this moment, I no longer wish that. If all my past discretions were abolished, I wouldn’t be here in this moment, looking into your eyes.”

Hermione could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as Draco exposed his feelings to her, something he would have never thought about doing before. It was true. He was a different person than the one she had known. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she finally managed to respond.

“Don’t say anything,” Draco whispered, just seconds before touching her lips gently with his own.

Hermione was finding it difficult to breathe. She had been unprepared for anything like this; it just hadn’t been on her schedule or been in the planner that she carried everywhere. His tongue swept in her mouth, the pressure growing more intense as they both got lost in the moment. She could feel the passion building even as she found herself clutching at his shirt. His hands were running over her back as he pulled her closer to him. Their bodies molded together as if they had been together forever. Hermione found herself giving in to the heat of the moment as she fought for control.

When they broke apart, they were both gasping for breath. They stared into each other’s eyes, his gray eyes glowing with a savage inner fire into her passion-filled brown eyes. She didn’t think about what she was doing, she didn’t worry about what her friends would think, and she didn’t worry about this being unplanned. The only thing she could think about was how right everything felt at this moment.

With a confidence she wasn’t aware that she possessed, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs to the second floor of her small cottage. She was shaking, not only from nerves, but from pure animalistic desire. She managed to suppress the fear she had about opening herself up to someone, especially someone like Draco Malfoy. She didn’t want to second guess herself in this instance. It was time for Hermione Granger to live in the moment. It wasn’t time to weigh the pros and cons of the situation she found herself in.

They reached the bedroom faster than she had thought it was possible. She had enough sense to use her wand to light a few candles before turning back to look at Draco. He was breathing deeply, and she could read the desire in his eyes as if they were open books.

Trying to stay in the moment, she took the first step towards him, going into his arms. His lips were so soft against hers, but his kisses had turned impatient. With a strength she thought he hadn’t still possessed, he lifted her up against him, nearly growling as her body made contact with his. A sense of urgency swept over him as he carried her over to the bed that had been hastily made earlier that morning. He placed her gently on the soft pink comforter and stepped back from her. He needed to slow down. He didn’t want her to think he was some randy teenager that didn’t know how to control himself.

He groaned as he looked at her lying there, the candlelight dancing over her face. He had never thought of Hermione as beautiful until now, despite the fact that she still looked the same as he had remembered. The difference was now he could see what he had never been able to see before. Her loving, understanding, compassionate nature, the side she had never shown to him before because he hadn’t deserved it. He followed her onto the bed, eager to feel the heat of her body.

Hermione had never felt such a need before in her life. It mirrored the thunderstorm that had started outside. The passion she felt was like lightning in her blood. In all of her previous relationships, she had never felt as much excitement as she did now, with someone she could have never imagined. They were Malfoy and Granger, Slytherin and Gryffindor, Death Eater and friend of Harry Potter. There was never supposed to be anything like this between them.

Reclaiming her lips, Draco crushed her to him. He knew in that moment that everything leading up to this point in time had been preordained. He would gladly relive the past experiences of his life over and over as long as he still ended up in this moment.

* * * * * * *


Hermione turned away from the window, tired of seeing the same rain that reminded her of the first night she had shared with Draco. They had spent two short weeks together learning more about each other and making plans for the future before he had disappeared.

Two years had passed, and many thought Draco Malfoy had been killed. Killed for betraying Voldemort, killed for getting what some considered a free pass after everything he had done the night Dumbledore had been killed. Hermione didn’t know what to think. Logic dictated that he was dead, but love had her heart hanging on, hoping he was still out there somewhere.

Hermione walked to the chair next to her bed and picked up the old Slytherin tie Draco had worn during his trial. It was something she kept with her at all times since that day, something that made her feel closer to him. She rubbed it against her cheek absently as she thought about something Draco had told her the day before he vanished. “Hermione,” he had said, “fate can be a fickle thing. One day you think your life is over, and the next it’s just beginning. We have to seize each moment we’re given and make it our own.”

Even had she known that their affair would end in heartbreak; Hermione still wouldn’t have changed a thing. She knew, deep down, that it was better to have loved for a short time than to not have loved at all.