The Invisible String or; The Day Our Fates Were Sealed
When Draco Malfoy was 6 years, 5 months, and 18 days old, something happened that would change the trajectory of his life forever. In an instant, in the seconds it would take to strike a match and watch it burn, the world as he had known it was irreversibly turned.
The nation watched as they fished the remains of his uncle and the small body of his cousin out of the smashed-to-bits limousine he had only seen them leave in after breakfast.
"Daddy is taking me to the zoo today," Theo had told him at breakfast, with a look of satisfaction. "We’re going to open the new lion exhibit."
Stabbing his eggs with more force than was needed, Draco tried his best to remember what his mother told him.
You must always be nice to cousin Theo; never let your temper get the best of you.
Narcissa had sat him down in the corner after the last time he screamed at Theodore for snatching the teddy his grandmama had gifted him on the day he was born from his hands.
It was near raggedy by now; even his mother's magic could only clean it so well, and he knew that his cousin only wanted it because it belonged to him. Even so, Draco still got into trouble for defending what was his because his war with his cousin could never be won.
And so Narcissa’s son did as he always did.
As he was told.
"That’s really cool, Theo. I wish I could come, but Mum says I have to study more," he said, suddenly feeling less hungry at the thought of spending another afternoon listening to Mrs. Park recite more poetry in French.
Why did it matter anyway? He was never going to be a prince like Theo was a prince. Not Prince of the Whales like him.
"I wish you could come too, but my mom says it’s special. Only for princes who will be king one day," Theodore said cheerfully.
Draco didn’t miss the way his own mother's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch at this proclamation.
She wasn’t supposed to be listening in from her corner of the room, where she and Theo’s mom, Aunt Teresa, sat sipping tea. Draco watched for a moment as his own mom's pinched smile disappeared behind a teacup.
As someone who knew his mom better than anyone, he knew this smile didn’t mean she was happy. The only time she was truly happy was when she and dad packed up for the summer to spend a fortnight at Malfoy Manor.
There were only real smiles at Malfoy Manor. It was the only place he had seen his parents kiss openly and freely. He had his parents full, undivided attention here. They watched him ride his toy broom around, cheering when he caught the training snitch.
A Slytherin, his dad proclaims as he hoists him onto his shoulders, parading him around the garden. Darling, can you believe it? Our boy, the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team.
His father always got a twinkle in his eye when he thought of his days at Hogwarts. Draco erupts into laughter and begs his father to spin.
Well, Slytherin is the best house, and since we have the best boy, I’ve no doubt he’ll be sorted there, Narcissa says, as if there are no doubts in her mind. He'll make us so proud.
His parents pressed a kiss to either of his cheeks before sending him off again. They held hands as they watched from the steps and smiled at him. There was never a place where they were happier.
For Draco, love existed at Malfoy Manor. It seeped from the walls; it pollinated the evergreen garden; and it could be found on every page in every book of the library.
The manor was all Draco could think about when his uncle died, and all of England laid flowers and gifts at the gates of the palace. When he visited Theo in his room, his cousin sat unmoving on the hospital bed. Draco knew the fact that he only had cuts and bruises here and there was a small miracle compared to what could have happened.
Although he didn’t respond when he took his hand, Draco did the only thing he could have for his cousin.
He wished; hoping the magic inside of him would grant him this.
He’d wished he was at the manor now and that he could take his cousin with him. And looking back on it years later, staring at the ceiling of his room the night before his wedding, he added one more to the list of unanswered wishes: that his father never became king.
Unfortunately for him, at 6 years, 5 months, and 18 days old, Draco had no way of knowing that it would be years after that before his family would ever occupy Malfoy Manor again.
T H E W I T C H I N G H O U R
Beatrice Granger had never thought the day would come in her life when she would finally become a mother.
She met her husband, Augustine, at 32, an already prehistoric age for child-bearing as far as her own mother was concerned. Not that her mother wasn’t right. She had lost three babies before her current pregnancy stuck. She had all but lost hope she would have children at all before she finally reached the third trimester of her fourth and final baby.
It took 49 hours of labor and one final heaving push to bring Hermione Jean Granger into the world. The moment she held her daughter, her sweet girl, Beatrice knew it was all worth it, knew there was something about her girl that was pure magic.
Her daughter was destined for greatness. She was willing to stake her life on it. For the first time in Beatrice’s life, she felt the rush of magic flow through her.
When Augustine lifted Hermione into his arms, she knew that his thick brown curls weren’t the only thing that he had gifted their daughter.
Although they had both been one of the unlucky few, born without magic, they had given their family magic to her. She was a witch, and she would belong to a different world than she was born into and that her mother and her father chose to live in.
Looking at her husband hold their precious child in his arms, she knew the clock was ticking, even now. One day, she would board the train, just as they had longingly watched their cousins do, and she would arrive at that great castle on a lake that she read about.
Each day from the moment she received that letter, she would slip further and further from this ordinary life.
This is why, when her parents-in-law arrived at the hospital in their strange clothes, too fast for people who only got the call five minutes ago and lived two hours away, she knew what she had to do.
She had to let Hermione live the extraordinary life she was destined for.
For Beatrice, this meant that she let her in-laws give her daughter the opportunity of a lifetime. Her own parents were gone, or they would have tried to arrange a match for her as well.
Ignatius and Evelyn Granger had came to their son’s London flat a week into her third trimester, when they felt the child would truly last long enough to be born. They sat awkwardly on the muggle furniture and were served tea in less-than-fine china.
Her heartbeat is strong, Augustine’s Mother pressed her hand gently against her daughter-in-laws growing stomach.
If Beatrice didn’t know any better, she would almost say it was approval in her mother-in-laws voice. But she did know better, and she knew from the first time they met, Evelyn Granger hated her daughter-in-law.
Unfortunately for them both, Augustine was her only child, and the only possibility of having an heir to the Granger family fortune was if they birthed one. They couldn’t let the cousins who only came around for the holidays and the occasional handout get their grubby Parisian fingers on what belonged to them.
We have arranged for her an auspicious match, Pulling her hand away and wiping it down the front of her robes, Evelyn crossed the room to watch the bustle of the London street below, If she indeed is born a witch, then she owns the Granger fortune and the right to the arrangement.
Augustine was the only one to speak. Do we get to know who it will be before we make any decisions?
Have any of you ‘ot a light? Ignatius Granger said with a cigar tucked into the corner of his mouth. He patted himself down.
Surely he had his wand somewhere on him.
He walks to the fireplace and sticks his cigar inside, waiting for it to catch before bringing it up to his mouth in a long, victorious drag. His victory, however, is short lived as his annoyed wife vanished it with a wave of her hand.
Evelyn turns back to them with a wider smile than Beatrice has ever seen when she says, Remember my dear friend Celeste? She just had a grandson, I’m sure you’ve heard. She and I have made the arrangements, magically sealed and binding with the ministry in the event that Hermione should choose to marry.
Yes, Hermione’s life was not meant to be ordinary, but it was bound to be interesting at the least.
On this side of her life, she would live like any other girl in England. She would attend primary school around the corner from their house in Hampstead. Hermione would eat food from the chippy, ride the bus on trips to the library, and scrape her knees with all the other children on the playground. She would have all the makings of a completely ordinary child.
One day though, Augustine and Beatrice Granger’s only child would be married to the man her grandparents arranged.
Until then, she would remain in their eyes just as she was now. Always the beautiful tiny girl with tiny brown curls swaddled in pink.
She was lovely and for now, she was theirs.