Forged

Draco Malfoy had a fucking dragon. Go figure.

How fitting, Hermione had thought. It made almost too much sense for the white haired prince to have a creature that aligned with his namesake. He probably was gifted it a birthday present from his Mummy.

Neville had explained it was Malfoy’s dragon that killed Ron. A meeting that went sideways when Malfoy revealed his new asset.

It was just a quick in and out meeting with an informant they’d been getting information from for weeks. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Nothing worth dying for. They all took turns meeting with the informant and changed the meeting location often. While he or she had provided unmatched intel, they were not foolish enough to trust them. They always wore a death eater mask, disguised their voice, and put a charm over their body that even Hermione could admit was clever magic. Anyone who met with the informant would have a different description of them. To some it was a female, others said it was a male. Some swore they were tall and lean while others thought of them as short and stocky. Hermione had yet to discover the element that determined how each person would perceive them. Maybe they all just saw what they wanted to see.

To Hermione, it was a man. His build seemed youthful in a way. It was lean and athletic. The robes often covered so much that she could not glean much more, but she sometimes swore a ruby earring caught the light when they tilted their head just so. She often took to calling him Ruby out of simplicity.

Neville had recounted that they barely reached the meeting place when a dragon that looked like white fire swooped overhead and set the ground ablaze. It was roughly the size of a large car at the time, but this did not hinder its agility or firepower. The whole ordeal only took a few seconds. The informant threw up a protective spell faster than Neville could think. It had covered Neville and Ruby, but left Ron exposed a few feet away. As quickly as the dragon appeared, it took back to the skies and left. Neville was barely able to catch a shock of white hair attached to the rider. As Neville prepared to apparate an already dead Ron back to Grimmauld, the informant had spoken from beneath their cloak.

“Well,” Ruby’s tone dripped with sarcasm, “I suppose you know now what I needed to tell you.” They brushed themself off as they continued, “Draco knows of our meetings, don’t reach out. I will come to you when I can.”

And then they had disapparated, leaving Neville to carry the body of Ronald Weasley back to his family and friends. It was laughable really. Hermione and Harry’s whole world was overturned in a matter of moments….and for what? Ron wouldn’t have wanted to end that way. He would’ve wanted to go down swinging, on the battlefield, fighting for a new world, fighting for his loved ones.

Hermione knew better than to believe in clandestine timing. Someone had tipped off Draco as to the meeting place and time. Personally, she was convinced it was the informant. She and Harry had been very demanding that they capture and interrogate Ruby. The pair had subsequently been thrown off of the rotation that met with him for “lack of objectiveness” and “inability to see the big picture” or some shite like that. Kingsley had argued that The Order couldn’t risk losing their only link to the inside of the death eater regime.

Hermione knew deep down that he was right, but she was no longer a woman that found she cared much about the long game. The war had embittered her. There was a time when she would have put the greater good above all else… perhaps when Dumbeldore was alive to feed them false hope, or a time before Ron Weasley took a piece of herself and Harry with him to the next life. Now, everything was personal, and what she wanted… no needed… was revenge. The greater good could wait until then.

—————————————————————————-
2 Years Later

Hermione rushed through the halls of Grimmauld Place to her room. Minerva McGonagall was hot on her heels.

“Hermione, listen to me for just one moment,” she pleaded.

“Minerva.” Hermione said impatiently as she stalked into her room and threw open her trunk to begin strapping on gear, “I have listened and if there is even a slight chance to take that blasted beast out of commission, I am going to take it with your permission or not.”

“You have taken the last three chances and none of them have been fruitful and all were extremely dangerous,” McGonagall snapped.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her as she strapped her wand holster to her arm.

“I suppose you have a better plan then?”

“No, I just think that there should be some plan before you risk your lives again. The younger Hermione Granger I knew would have understood that.”

Yes and the younger Hermione Granger did not see her best friend’s melted face, Hermione thought drily.

Just as she opened her mouth to retort, Harry streamed into the room and started throwing open his own trunk.

Minerva started, “Harry please see reason– Oh Merlin! Harry Potter! That is quite inappropriate!” she screamed as he began to strip out of his clothing to change. “You two rooming together is not appropriate either come to think of it…”

Hermione ignored her. She respected the Professor’s opinion, but she wasn’t in the market for one in the first place. She and Harry had begun living in the same room a few days after Ron passed. The first night, Hermione awoke to Harry screaming so loudly next door that she thought that something horrible had happened again. She sprinted to his side to find him in the thralls of a nightmare. She shook him awake gently.

“Harry,” she whispered, “Wake up, it's me.”

He sat up suddenly and yelled into the night, “HERMIONE!”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok I’m right here,” she soothed.

“Oh, God I thought you were gone. You and Ron both were just….” he looked at her with tears in his eyes and seemed to think better about explaining his dream too thoroughly, “You were just gone.”

“‘I’m here.”

“Stay with me,” he whispered.

“Ok,” she said simply as she crawled into bed with him.

They had become inseparable ever since. They had moved Harry’s bed into her room and slept with only a few feet between them. They took turns soothing the recurrent nightmares that plagued each of them. Her’s were always of Malfoy. She saw him laughing as his dragon stalked up behind him. It would growl low and menacing while taking measured steps. Steam curled out the sides of its mouth.

“My dragon can smell your fear, Granger,” Malfoy would taunt.

And she was always so truly afraid. Ever since she had learned of Malfoy’s dragon, the thought of burning alive had tormented her day and night. She could not imagine Ron’s last moments, nor did she want to. The pain, though brief if it was as quick as Neville said, must have been unbearable.

Malfoy would look lovingly in his dragon’s direction and would speak in a lover’s caress, “Go ahead, darling. Finish him.”

Him? Hermione always thought. Then the dragon would whip its gigantic white head to Hermione’s right and spew fire. She would turn at the last moment and see Harry’s face paralyzed with fear. She always woke up screaming his name.

Harry never talked about what he saw. At times, she thought it was probably for the best so that her brain did not get new ideas. But she often worried about what he kept to himself and why. He yelled different names into the night. It alternated each time. Sometimes it was her, other times it was Ron, Remus, Fred, Sirius, or Ginny. It worried her how many people he felt responsible for. That was where they were different. After Ron, she learned that the most important thing to her was Harry. He was the one who was supposed to defeat Voldemort and he was her only remaining family. Getting too attached or worried about others was too much for her brain to handle and Harry did enough of that for the both of them. She needed the space to think logically and she couldn’t do that with the weight of the world on her shoulders. If she thought too long and hard about the consequences of them losing the war… she would lose it. So she didn’t think. She worked and planned and fought.

She laced her shoes and threw her hair up in a bun. It would undoubtedly come undone, but she did not have time for her usual two French braids.

“Seamus confirmed they are just outside of London,” Harry shot in her direction as he pulled a shirt over his head.

“Yeah I heard. This will be our last chance for a while. He’s headed to America tomorrow.”

“Great,” Harry muttered.

“Thank Merlin,” McGonagall muttered.

Hermione had forgotten she was even in the room.

The dragon had been on a rampage throughout Europe. If there was any chance the Order even had a shot of winning before, it had been thrown out the window the moment White Fire had arrived. The stupid ominous name for the dragon had caught on after Neville’s account of the meeting that led to Ron’s death.

Muggles and wizard folk alike were being burned to death in the thousands. The statute of secrecy was up in flames along with everything else. Muggle governments were getting involved and any attempts to work with them was shot down by their fear of anything or anyone that was magic. They did not differentiate between the Order and the Death Eaters, they just killed who they could.

The last time Hermione had seen Malfoy and White Fire, the British Armed Forces had sent in tanks to take them down. The entire field had been incinerated in sixty seconds. The tanks had melted to the ground and every soldier was dead.

She hated to admit it, but the dragon was so bloody beautiful. Hermione always stood in awe for a second too long when she saw it. It had white scales from head to toe that gleamed in the sun. It was almost transparent in the light of day, but it often reflected the colors that surrounded it. Every color of the rainbow could be seen in its scales. When it breathed fire…. Hermione could understand what Neville had meant. The reflection of the warm fire on its blank canvas made it look as though it was fire itself. Hermione had never read or heard of such a creature. No one in the Order had.

Hermione and Harry started out the door and Minerva remained on their heels but did not say a word. When they reached the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the front door she finally spoke.

“Hermione, dear, just give me one moment before you go,” she pleaded.

Hermione stopped in her tracks and sighed. Harry turned to look at her before she silently communicated for him to go on and she would catch up. He rolled his eyes and headed out the door. She spun on her foot and folded her arms across her chest. Her fingers tapped impatiently against her arm.

“Yes?”

McGonagall was silent for a moment as though she was contemplating what to say next. Hermione watched a crease form between her eyes as she attempted to quickly think of something good enough to make them stay. Her eyes suddenly lit up.

“Charlie is here,” she said and then paused as though for dramatic effect.

Hermione looked at her as if to say, “Go on.”

She was happy Charlie was safe. They had lost contact with him for months now and his family had been so worried, but she was not his family and had more pressing matters to attend to.

“He traveled all the way from Romania. He had a tough time making it with the anti-apparition wards and had to be smuggled into the country. He just got in this morning. He said he might have some information about the dragon. If you stay, perhaps you can learn its weaknesses and recoup to prepare for Malfoy’s return from America?” she asked hopefully.

Hermione thought for a moment before turning around again and walking out the door.

“This might be our last opportunity for a while. I will speak to Charlie when we return. Tell him we are happy he is back and we will see him soon,” Hermione said over her shoulder.

McGonagall sighed in defeat.

Hermione shut the door behind her and walked to the end of the path to meet Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, and Seamus. Ginny was looking longingly in Harry’s direction but he either hardly noticed or chose not to. He had shut down anything between the two of them ever since Ron. He never gave a reason to anyone and she had never asked. Hermione was certain Ginny and others in the Order thought that there was something between Hermione and Harry, but she didn’t have the time or care to explain how trauma can be a powerful bonding agent of its own and that there was in fact, nothing there romantically.

Hermione looked over at Harry and her eyes warmed. She loved him in a way that transcended social constructs and she knew without asking that she was just as important to him. No one could ever question their devotion to each other when it was so clear from their actions. They were the only family they each had left. The absence of Ron had forced them closer than ever in an attempt to fill the gaping hole he left.

It was never enough.

“Ready?” Harry questioned as he met her gaze. His eyes silently asked if she was ok. Hermione simply nodded.

Everyone nodded and Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot in anticipation.

“Alright, you know the plan. Malfoy is leaving the country tomorrow. We have to make this count,” he said.

“Stay in formation and don’t deviate from what we discussed.” Hermione said, making eye contact with each of them.

With a final nod, they all disapparated with a crack.