Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Songs of Regret	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 76454 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I also hold no rights to any of the songs mentioned. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: I’d like to give an enormous thank-you to Whitney, discord_the_lunatic, angel0fmusic, magi, Trelweny, and Juliesnaps for being my very first reviewers EVER! Your encouraging words mean so much. I’m quite committed to this story and am doing my best to get you updates as often as real life allows. Cheers!!!!

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“Hello?”

((hello hello hello hello))

“Can anybody hear me?”

((hear me hear me hear me hear me))

Hermione stood still for a moment waiting to hear any sound other than the echoing of her own words. She strained her eyes to try and see anything beyond the white fog that surrounded her. She had no idea where she was. She saw a dark shadow move just beyond the fog.

“Who’s there?”

((there there there there))

The fog swirled and began to dissipate directly in front of her, but remained thick on either side of her. Before her was now a long white hallway. Hermione turned around but there was still nothing but haze. She could only go forward. She took a step into the path of the hallway and suddenly a raven appeared on the ground, standing just ahead of her. The bird cocked its head at her and then cawed loudly. The sound of it was terrifying and Hermione screamed but she made no sound.

The raven turned away from her and started to strut down the hallway. Hermione felt her feet move to follow it involuntarily. The bird led her past a series of white doors with no handles. It stopped in front of one and pointed its beak in the direction of it. Hermione stepped-up to the door and peered inside through the tiny window at the top of it. Inside she saw two children sitting on the floor of an all white room, playing chess together at a low table. They were her children. Hermione suddenly became panicked.

What were they doing in there?

Hermione grasped at the door, but it was without a handle like the rest. She needed to get her children out of there! “Rose!” ((rose rose rose rose)) “Hugo!” ((hugo ugo ugo ugo))

Her children showed no signs that they knew she was there. She pounded on the door with her fists. She turned to the raven, “Let them out!” ((out out out out out))

The raven walked to Hermione’s feet and tapped its beak on the floor.

Tap tap tap tap!

Hermione gawked at the bird as it took another step toward her and went to peck at her very feet.

Tap tap tap tap tap!

“No!” she gasped as she woke from the dream. Hermione bolted upright in the bed, blinked her eyes rapidly and looked around. She was still in Draco’s bedroom. She turned and looked beside her to see Draco lying on his back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP

“The raven!” Draco shouted as he scrambled to sit-up.

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat at his words. Had they dreamt the same thing?

But the memory of the dream quickly floated away when the tapping sounded again and Hermione looked toward the source of it to see Nyx standing just outside of the balcony doors.

“She’s back!” Hermione yelled and she threw the heavy covers of Draco’s bed off of her legs and darted to the doors.

Draco scrubbed his scalp with his fingers as he watched Hermione open one of the balcony doors. Nyx hopped inside and Hermione squatted down in front of her to retrieve the small envelope that was clutched in her outstretched claw. She scratched the owl just behind one of her feathery horns and Nyx clicked appreciatively before flying to the corner of the room to settle down on the back of the green armchair.

Hermione stood up and turned the envelope over in her hands. It looked exactly like their Hogwarts letters except, instead of her name and address on the front, it simply read: To: Students Seeking Help. The back of it displayed the Headmaster’s embossed seal.

“It’s from him!” she said, looking anxiously up at Draco.

“Then open it, woman!” he jokingly demanded.

Hermione came back to the bed and crawled up onto it to sit beside him. He leaned over and said, “By the way, good morning.”

He kissed her lightly on the temple and she hummed with a smile. Draco turned back to eye the letter in her hand. Hermione popped the seal with her finger and they both reflexively held their breaths as she pulled the parchment out from the envelope. She unfolded the page and they both leaned in to read Dumbledore’s tidy scroll.

Dearest Students,

You are correct when you state that I have said that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. What is most intriguing about your statement is that I can think only of a handful of people to which I have ever mentioned that phrase. To invoke my words under a title of anonymity is most troubling to me as was your declaration of your situation being one of life and death.

I will of course assist you in any way that I am able; however I do insist that when we meet you reveal your true identities and the full scope of your circumstances. If you are sincere in obtaining my assistance, you may Floo here to my office any time before 5:00 pm (Hogwarts’ time) today. I have made a special arrangement for only the recipients of this letter to be able to do so.

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

Hermione set the letter down on the bed when she finished reading. She scooted to the edge of the bed and grabbed hold of her wand that was on Draco’s nightstand. “What are you doing?” Draco asked her as she stood.

“Getting ready,” she answered,stooping to pick-up her re-transfigured trousers and shirt. “I think we should go as soon as possible. Is there a Floo here that we can use?” she asked as she pulled on her clothes.

“Of course we have one. We actually have ten,” he answered as he watched her quickly spell her frizzy hair into sleek waves again. He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Why did you never do that in school?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Hermione responded distractedly as she then shook out her robes to see if she could repair the damaged shoulder.

“Your hair. Why did you never make it look nice back when we were in school?”

Hermione frowned at him. “Well, for starters, I didn’t know the spell back then. It took me quite a few years to perfect this one. For some reason my hair likes to resist being tamed. Secondly, I was much more concerned about important things, like my studies, rather than my appearance. Thirdly, I didn’t realize I needed to look good for anyone at school. And finally, from what you told me yesterday, it seems it didn’t matter that my hair was not nice,” she finished indignantly.

Draco felt about two inches tall. He hadn’t meant to insult her, he had merely been curious. “Granger, I didn’t…”

“Are you going to get ready or not?” Hermione snapped at him with a stony expression.

Draco felt a sting of anger in his chest at her interruption, but said nothing. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and bent over to grab his own clothes. He had just pulled-on his trousers when a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

“Draco?” a woman’s muffled voice asked from behind the door.

“Fuck,” Draco cursed and he shot a glance to Hermione. She stared wide-eyed at the door for a moment and then hit the floor to hide beside the bed when the door handle clicked open.

“Draco, dear, are you awake?” came Narcissa Malfoy’s voice again through the crack she had opened in the door. Draco bolted to the door and placed a hand on it to prevent her from coming in.

“Yes, mother. Now, what do you want?” he whispered in agitation.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her son through the crack. “I want to come in,” she answered in a stern tone. “You have never barred me entrance to your room before. What is the matter?”

“Nothing. I just want to be alone,” he lied feebly. Narcissa furrowed her brow and pushed on the door to try and enter the room, but Draco held the door firmly.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you let me in this instant!” she demanded and pushed at the door again.

Draco released the door and she marched through it. Narcissa looked around suspiciously for a moment and then looked back to her son. Draco had turned slightly to look about the room as well, afraid of what his mother might find. He felt his mother’s slender hand suddenly grip him by his upper arm and yank him around to expose his bare back to her. She tsked loudly.

“For Heaven’s sake, Draco,” she said as she observed the scratch marks that Hermione had left down his back. She turned him back around to face her and the sheepish look on his face told her all she needed to know. “So, is she still here then?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow.

All that Draco could manage to get out was, “Uh…” before his mother spoke again.

“Please come out my dear. I would very much like to meet the young lady that has earned my son’s affections,” she called out in a gentle voice.

Draco watched helplessly in horror as Hermione stood cautiously from her hiding spot next to the bed. However, he did an almost comical double-take when he saw her. The woman standing on the other side of his bed was not Hermione. This woman had short blond hair, green eyes, and a button nose covered in freckles. He stared, mouth agape as his mother introduced herself.

“Hello, dear. My name is Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy. I am Draco’s mother,” she said proudly with a slight bow of her head. “And your name?”

“My name is Margaret Monroe, ma’am. It is very nice to meet you,” Hermione spoke in a drawl. Draco’s mouth fell open even wider.

“You are American? How is it you’ve come to know my son?” Narcissa asked in slight surprise.

Hermione stepped around the bed to face Narcissa more directly, “My mother and father sent me here to study for summer vacation with the hope that I might be able to graduate early before my debut cotillion next year. Our school years end in May, so I was able to attend Hogwarts briefly this month to begin my tutoring sessions.”

Narcissa smiled widely. “You are from a wealthy family?”

Hermione nodded with a coy smile, “Oldest Pureblood family in Texas, ma’am.”

“Well, it is a pleasure to have you here in our home. Won’t you please join us for breakfast?” Narcissa offered sweetly.

“Sorry, mother,” Draco replied, finally having regained his composure, “but I promised Margaret that I’d take her sightseeing today. You don’t mind do you?”

“No of course not,” Narcissa said. “Margaret, it was very nice to have met you. Please know that you are always welcome here, and I do hope to see you again soon.”

Hermione curtsied in her direction and Narcissa walked to the door with Draco right on her heels. She turned to her son just before she exited and whispered, “I trust that you will remember that you are both a gentleman and a Malfoy, and that your father and I expect you to act as such.” Draco nodded. “Good,” she replied. “Now go and enjoy your day.” She kissed him on the cheek and retreated down the hall.

Draco closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh of relief. He turned to Hermione just in time to see her tap her wand on the top of her head. At once “Margaret” faded away revealing Hermione’s true appearance. “That was bloody brilliant, Granger. How the hell did you think of that all so quickly?” he asked in awe.

“Well I was the bloody Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, if you recall,” she said in a huff. “We were trained to go under cover at a moment’s notice.” There was an awkward silence for a minute while they both just stared at the floor.

“So,” Hermione sighed as she picked-up her robes once more, “your mum seems nice.”

“Yes, well, she thinks you are a Pureblood heiress, doesn’t she?” Draco remarked as he went to his dresser and removed from it a set of fresh clothes. He then walked swiftly to his bathroom and disappeared inside.

Hermione flopped down on the edge of Draco’s bed with an irritated puff. She didn’t want to be upset with Draco, but his comment about her hair had really bothered her. It made her feel so foolish for having believed him earlier when he said that he’d found her attractive in school. He had said exactly what he had needed to to get her into bed and she had fallen for it in a moment of weakness. “How could you be so stupid?” she thought to herself angrily.

She finished repairing her robes and donned them while still chastising herself. “What is wrong with me? How could I sleep with him? And after less than a day together! What the hell was I thinking? And why do I want to do it again?”

And sweet Merlin did she want to do it again.

“Morally fucked-up,” she sighed out loud.

“What is?” Draco queried as he emerged from the bathroom neatly groomed and dressed in black trousers and a dark gray button-down dress shirt.

“Me,” Hermione answered dejectedly.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that. Though I have yet to see proof of it,” he said as he grabbed his robes that were hanging on his bed post.

“You saw proof of it last night when I had sex with you,” she retorted.

Draco stopped dead. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “You think it’s morally fucked-up for someone to want to have sex with me?” he asked sullenly.

Hermione looked up at him and saw by his expression that he seemed hurt by her statement. Maybe there was more to this man. She went to him and cupped his face in her hands. “No that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. I meant I’m fucked-up because I slept with you so soon, and that it doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should that I slept with you the same day that my husband suggested that I do so. Furthermore, I feel like something must be wrong with me because despite all of this mess, all I can really think about is being with you again.”

Draco gave her a weak smile. “You think I used you, don’t you?” he asked softly. Hermione lowered her hands from his face, but said nothing. Draco took her silence as an affirmation. He took in a deep breath and looked at her hard.

“I want you to listen to me Hermione,” he began in a steely tone. “I am self-serving, and I am vain, and I am materialistic. I can be charming, and I can be cruel, and I can be manipulative. I was a bigot, and I was a torturer, and I was a murderer. There are many things about me that are ‘morally fucked-up’. But you should know also that I am generous, and I am loyal, and I am protective of those I care about. I have had very few good people in my life and of them you and my mother are all I have left. We both lost everything. Why is it wrong to want to get it back together?”

Hermione smiled genuinely and took a hold of his hand and interlaced their fingers together. “It’s not,” she answered. She stood-up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “But this is all too fast. Just yesterday I had a husband and you had a wife. And I am still terrified that I may have lost my children forever. I will do ANYTHING I have to to get them back. I’m not saying I don’t want this, but I can’t commit to anything until after we talk to Dumbledore. Okay?”

Draco squeezed her hand gently and nodded silently.

“Are we ready to go then?” Hermione asked expectantly. Draco frowned a little and looked at the floor.

“How can I face him again? He died because of me,” Draco said morosely.

“No, he didn’t,” Hermione replied bluntly. Draco gave her a questioning glance and she raised an eyebrow at him, “Did Snape not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” he said with apprehension.

Hermione was thunderstruck. How had he gone all of these years not knowing the truth? “Did you never wonder why Snape was posthumously pardoned?”

“Of course I wondered, but they held a closed-door trial and the details were sealed and never made public. What do I not know?” he asked her anxiously.

“Draco, you were not in any way responsible for Professor Dumbledore’s death. He was already dying from a curse. Professor Dumbledore knew about your mission the entire time. He ordered Snape to kill him to spare you and to ensure Snape’s position as a double agent,” she explained.

“Snape was a double agent…for Dumbledore?” Draco looked at her with an expression of total bewilderment.

“Surely you knew he was a double agent?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“Yes, but I thought he was one for the Dark Lord.”

“He was very convincing,” Hermione conceded, “but he was absolutely essential in Voldemort’s downfall. He is the one that gave Harry the information he needed to ultimately defeat him.”

“How do you know all this? Potter tell you?” Draco asked still in shock.

“I was there. Now look, I realize this all must be a shock to you, but we really must be going. I’ll explain everything to you later, okay?” Hermione said with an imploring gaze.

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “Fine, but you will tell me everything.”

Hermione suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine. His statement was a command, not a request, and for some reason it had instantly turned her on. She realized in that moment also that she had felt similar small jolts the two times he’d already called her “woman.”

“Merlin, what is the matter with me?” she thought. She pushed the thought away and nodded at him.

“Nearest Floo is just across the hall in the master study,” Draco said and took her by the hand to the door of his room. He opened it and poked his head out to make sure his mother was out of sight. When he was sure the coast was clear he hurriedly towed Hermione with him into the hall and up to the study door.

“How do you know she’s not in there?” Hermione whispered to him as he grabbed for the handle.

Draco did not answer and instead pushed the door open, pulled them both inside, and quickly shut the door behind them. He released her hand and walked promptly to an enormous stone fireplace that was complete with small gargoyles perched at either end of the mantel. Hermione was completely taken aback by the grandeur of the room. She gaped around the room at its polished wood paneling, intricately carved moldings, and high domed ceiling. Two giant stained glass windows with Celtic knot patterns took up most of the far wall. Several large brocade armchairs stood around the room, each with its own round decorative side table and lamp. Hermione was eyeing the vast assortment of books and scrolls upon the tall bookshelves around the walls appreciatively when she was startled by a throat clearing.

“When you are done admiring my home Granger, I believe we have an appointment,” Draco said as he motioned to the fireplace with his hands. Hermione blushed slightly and hurried over to join him just in front of the hearth. He took a beautifully engraved wooden box from the high mantel and opened the hinged lid to reveal a stash of glittering Floo powder. He held it out to her and she grabbed a handful. Draco grabbed his own handful and replaced the box. He stepped into the fireplace and turned to Hermione. “Coming?” he asked.

Hermione smiled meekly and stepped in beside him. Draco hugged an arm around her waist and he smirked to himself when he heard her breath hitch slightly. “On three then,” he said. She nodded. He counted down and on three they both threw down their handfuls of powder and yelled, “Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office!”

They were consumed with roaring green flames and felt the rumble of the passing grates and jerked to a halt at the grate they knew opened to Dumbledore’s office. Draco and Hermione stumbled out slightly clutching each other.

Draco helped Hermione right herself and brushed-off the soot he saw on her robes. Hermione wiped a smudge of soot off of Draco’s cheek with her robe sleeve. They both jumped when they suddenly heard a loud, “Ahem.” They turned and looked-up to see Dumbledore seated behind his desk staring at them expectantly over his half-moon spectacles.

Hermione reflexively clutched her hand around Draco’s forearm to keep herself from collapsing with the shock that her old Headmaster’s appearance had given her. They both just stared at him looking like deer caught on the highway.

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, “and… Mr. Malfoy. I must admit that it is rather a surprise to discover that the two of you are my troubled students.”

“I’m afraid you will soon find that that is not the only thing you will be surprised at Professor,” Draco said somewhat gravely.

“Indeed,” said a low, silky voice from behind them just beside the fireplace. Draco and Hermione froze as the impressive figure of Severus Snape walked before them and came to stand next to Dumbledore’s desk. It was Draco’s turn to clutch at Hermione in shock and the two of them went silent and wide-eyed again as a pair of twinkling yet concerned blue eyes and a pair of mysterious and calculating black eyes stared down at them.

“Please, have a seat,” Dumbledore said kindly, nodding to two chairs seated just in front of his desk.

Draco and Hermione exchanged a brief apprehensive glance, then let go of each other and hesitantly took their places in the chairs. Dumbledore reached across his desk and lifted a small dish towards them offering them a piece of the glistening hard candies inside. Draco politely shook his head, but Hermione started to tremble slightly and tears began to well-up in her eyes. She thought she had been prepared for this, but the sight of her long deceased professors before them alive and well forced her mind to accept that their situation was real. Some part of her subconscious had held-out hope that they had simply been part of some prank that caused them to think they were young again. But dead men did not come back to life and offer one candy as part of prank.

“Does my sweets selection upset you, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore said with mock seriousness. Hermione said nothing and simply shook her head. Dumbledore set down the dish and regarded the two silent teens before him. His expression sobered considerably and with a tilt of his head in Hermione’s direction said, “How is it that I might be able to assist you?”

Hermione pulled herself together and focused on how best to begin telling them their impossible story. “Before we begin, Professor, may I please see both of your hands?” she asked frankly. Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow at her request, but held up both of his hands over his desk. Hermione breathed a noticeable sigh of relief at the sight of his perfectly healthy looking hands.

“Does your request to see my hands have anything to do with the post script on the letter you sent me yesterday,” Dumbledore asked her.

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

“Is that why you and Mr. Malfoy are here, Miss Granger?” he questioned with a penetrating stare.

“No, sir. We are here because we…” she paused to try and find the correct words. She took a deep breath and said, “Sir, Draco and I are thirty-seven years old. For us, yesterday was the first of September…in the year 2017. We were brought back here through the use of a Paenitentia Pearl.”

Both professors looked at her like she had two heads. Hermione looked at Draco with a worried expression, but he was frowning at the two men that had shifted their gazes to him.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore said, giving Draco a hard accusing stare.

“What?” Draco asked uncomfortably. Dumbledore and Snape exchanged glances and Snape walked around the desk to stand directly beside Draco. He looked down at him severely.

“Your wand, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said curtly, holding out his hand. Draco looked confused, but reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. He handed it to Snape and watched as his old potions master performed a diagnostic spell upon it. Visible words formed in the air in front of them listing all of the recent spells that Draco had performed. He looked on curiously as Snape and Dumbledore read through them.

“There are only cleansing, silencing, fire lighting and conjuring spells here, Albus,” Snape said with a hint of disbelief. Dumbledore said nothing but inclined his head towards Hermione. Snape nodded slightly and handed Draco back his wand and then held his hand out to Hermione. “Your wand, Miss Granger,” he demanded. She handed it to him with a skeptical look. Snape performed the same diagnostic spell upon her wand as he had Draco’s. “A few cosmetic charms, transfigurations, repairing spells, and… a Ministry grade appearance modification,” Snape said with a raised eyebrow at Hermione.

“That spell is both complex and regulated, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said sternly. “Would you be so kind as to tell us where you learned it?”

Hermione looked from Dumbledore to Snape and back to Dumbledore again with a look of uncertainty. She shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. “I am the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Appearance modification is standard training for any position in the department,” she said matter-of-factly. The men gawked at her again and Hermione started to get annoyed. They were getting nowhere. “Why did you check our wands?” she asked rather forcefully.

“We were searching for an Imperius or similar influencing spell,” Snape answered simply and handed her back her wand.

She looked puzzled for the slightest of moments and then realization hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. “You think Draco forced me to make this all up? What, like some kind of giant, fucking hoax!?” she asked angrily.

“Language, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore admonished lightly, “and yes, that was the general idea. You must understand. What you just told us is nearly impossible as a Paenitentia Pearl has not been seen in several millennia. We have never known you to be dishonest apart from a little contraband potioneering and given the past animosity between yourself and Mr. Malfoy it was only logical…”

“To assume that the no-good Death Eater put her up to it,” Draco interrupted scathingly.

“You are not a Death Eater,” Hermione corrected him sternly. “Not yet. We have until the fourth.”

Snape’s eyes went wide. “What did you just say, Miss Granger,” he asked in a deadly voice.

Hermione looked at him defiantly and said, “I was reminding Draco that he won’t be given the Dark Mark until the fourth of July.”

Snape gave Dumbledore a troubled look and then returned his focus on Hermione.

“Please tell me what you know of Mr. Malfoy’s Marking,” he implored. Hermione shook her head slightly.

“I’m sorry Professor, but I only know the date and that he’ll receive it on his left arm,” she replied.

“And how is it that you know of the Marking’s proposed date and placement,” Snape questioned her harshly.

“Because I told her and she saw it,” Draco butt-in angrily. He was tired of them asking Hermione questions about him in front of him like he was a fucking criminal on trial. He moved to the very edge of his chair dramatically and sat-up straight. He did not want to recall one of the worst days of his life, but he knew that Snape had already been told the details of what would happen and he and Hermione desperately needed their old mentors to believe them.

Draco looked purposefully between Snape and Dumbledore and, using the same charismatic tone he used for his business meetings, said, “What will it take for you to believe our situation, gentlemen? Details? Fine. I shall give you details.” He then pulled back the left sleeve of his robes and began to roll-up his shirt cuff, talking as he did so. “I will receive the Dark Mark at exactly noon on July 4^th, 1996. There will be six of us Marked that day. Four men and one woman will receive the Mark alongside me.”

He looked down at his now exposed forearm and touched it gently with his hand exactly where the Dark Mark had been and continued. “To create the Mark, the Dark Lord will press the tip of his wand into my arm just here (he poked his flesh with his finger) and then speak something in Parseltongue. The pain of receiving it will be so severe that I will crack two teeth from clenching my jaw so tight to keep from screaming. One of the men will die from a heart attack because of it. Afterward, the five of us that remain will each be given a separate mission as part of our initiation.”

“And your mission?” Snape asked brusquely. Draco looked directly at Dumbledore then.

He looked the old man straight in the eyes and answered, “The Dark Lord plans for me to murder the Headmaster.”
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Songs of Regret