FIC: Save His Soul, Hermione/Draco, R
I of course do not own the characters, or well, anything, short of some bills, a computer, and the clothes I am wearing. Ok, maybe a bit more than that, but the point is, the idea for the story is hatched of my own head, and other than that, I only use characters which J.K. Rowling has thoughtfully gifted the world with.
Pairing: Hermione and Draco
Rating: R
Summery: 11 years after graduation, Draco is a lonely man, whose wife and son were murdered years before. To pull out of his depression, he returns to Hogwarts as the new Potions Instructor.
Words: 1379
The pale glacial eyes of Draco Malfoy roamed restlessly across the crowded street, which helped to make up the magical shopping district Diagon Alley. The school term for Hogwarts was nearly ready to begin, which had become little more than a painful reminder to Draco. Nearly five years prior, Draco’s wife, Angelique, and their four-year-old child, Dominick, had perished at the hands of a small sect of dark wizards known as The League.
It was hard to think of them at any time, but at times like this, it was an especially bitter potion to swallow. Draco swirled a glass of fiery amber liquid, before tilting the glass to his lips, and letting the whiskey slide down his throat.
Finally, he glanced away from the window and down at the parchment resting on his table. It was a letter from Albus Dumbledore, welcoming Draco to Hogwarts as the new potions professor. Apparently, from the gossip he had heard, Professor Snape had finally been accepted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. For as long as Draco could recall, Snape had been after the DADA class.
As Draco reread the material, he snorted and swallowed another swig of the fire whiskey. What in the name of all that was holy possessed him to accept the proffered position in the first place, was beyond his line of thinking. Along with the letter welcoming him to the staff, there was a small side note instructing him to pick up any ingredients he might be in need of, at the cost of the school.
The cost mattered little to Draco. He had inherited a great deal of galleons when his parents had perished in the Great War. In addition to his own funds, the trust fund Dominick had, as well as Angelique’s inheritance, both from her parents, had reverted t him. No, he certainly did not need any money.
His acceptance, at the time, had been based more on his desire to tie up his spare time, something else he found himself in abundance of. Spare time had done nothing save serve to make his mind wander. Taking a final swig of the bitter whiskey, Draco tossed down a galleon for a tip, scooped up his letter, and was out the door. His long black clever cloak swirled around him as he left. Dressed entirely in black, with his shock of white-blond hair, Draco Malfoy cut an imposing and impressive figure.
During the past few years, Draco’s appearance had changed a good deal, and understandably so. It wasn’t that he was unkempt, merely that his previously elegantly groomed façade had slipped, leaving behind this man who looked rugged and dangerous in his stead. Most women would likely agree that he was more appealing now than before, with his bad boy appearance.
Gone was the pale skin and soft body, replaced with a healthy tan, and a toned musculature. Draco’s hair reached just over his collar and was haphazardly tossed back from his face. Most noticeable of all, however, was the hard stare he fixed on people, a stare that made one feel as though he was looking directly into your soul.
As Draco stepped out onto the street, he could feel the eyes on him, though he ignored them. He did pause briefly to glance around, his eyes darting from figure to figure with no agenda. Finally, they settled onto a small gold gilt sign for the potions shop. His purposeful strides pushed him across the street, and into the shop of choice.
In the years immediately following school, Draco had started fiddling with different items, and had come up with his own unique potions. Certainly, Draco had excelled in his potions class, but never before had he shown an initiative in deviating from the course work. Once he started, he found that he had a knack for making potions out of supposedly “unpotionable” spells.
A year before his wife and son had perished; Draco published a potions book, which was now a common textbook for the 7th year students at Hogwarts, as well as other magical institutions around the world. Draco had just been starting to research new potions for a second such text when the “accident” had occurred, leaving him devastated, and empty feeling.
Despite the years separating him from the deaths, Draco had yet to finish the text. He had only just started working on it again, over the past year. The newest text would center around the ability to quick brew potions, which presently would take months or longer to brew. Basically, he was putting together potions to mimic existing ones, using different ingredients. Draco’s current goal was to create a quick brew polyjuice potion, which would hopefully last longer than it’s current method.
Upon entering the shop, Draco’s senses were assaulted with the many scents coming from the different powders, herbs, and other assorted ingredients. His potions were an escape from his life, and entering this shop eased his mind.
It took Draco no time at all to find the items he required and to set up delivery straight to Hogwarts. At the same time, he set up a standard monthly order for replenishing his private stocks, as well as his class stocks. Once this was accomplished, Draco set out with a flourish of his black cloak.
As he walked back down the street with little purpose in mind, Draco ignored the whispers, the pointing, and the stares. Quite honestly, the pale haired wizard rarely even noticed the behavior anymore. Draco paused abruptly as a door to a shop was thrown open immediately in front of him. Pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly to complete the scowl on his face.
A short witch with hair the golden amber color of whiskey stepped onto the path, her arms bulging with packages. Barely reaching his chin, the petite girl looked young, much younger than his own 29 years. However, when crystal clear cinnamon brown eyes reached his in apology, he knew she was his age, because he knew her.
Her hair was different, and her eyes seemed wider somehow. But she was the same. She had been pretty before, in an unconventional way. Now, it was simply in a more conventional way. Her looks were noticeable, not just to him, but to others as well.
Hermione Granger’s hair was several shades lighter than it had been before. Topaz golden highlights streaked the hair that was no longer frizzy. Her hair tumbled down her back in perfectly formed corkscrew curls now.
Hermione stopped abruptly, and glanced up as she started to apologize for nearly running the person down. As her eyes met his, however, her voice caught in her throat. It had been years since she had seen him, but she recognized him instantly, despite the changes in his appearance.
“I apologize, Mr. Malfoy. I didn’t realize you were standing there.” She finished her reply in an overly polite and stiff voice. “If you’ll just excuse me…” Hermione trailed off as she moved to pass by her old classmate. Draco’s arm reached out, however, halting her progress.
“No, please, excuse me. I was hardly watching just where I was going. I understand you are returning to Hogwart’s this year as the Arithmancy instructor, Professor…. Granger is it, still?” Draco asked her in a deep voice. He released her arm as he looked down at her with a polite smile on his face.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I am returning for my third year with the school, and will be starting my first year as the head of Gryffindor house.” Hermione looked up at him, half wondering at his politeness and small talk. “And yes, it is still Granger.” She wasn’t certain why, but it irked her that he would ask such a question, and she found it irked her even more to have to answer it as she had. Another part of her wondered just when he had grown into a man, but she quickly quelled that thought in her head.
“I look forward to seeing you again soon, Hermione. I need to be going myself. Good day.” With a tilt of his head, Draco left her standing there staring after him, wondering at his comments, and the use of her first name.
Chapter One Two Three
Pairing: Hermione and Draco
Rating: R
Summery: 11 years after graduation, Draco is a lonely man, whose wife and son were murdered years before. To pull out of his depression, he returns to Hogwarts as the new Potions Instructor.
Words: 1379
The pale glacial eyes of Draco Malfoy roamed restlessly across the crowded street, which helped to make up the magical shopping district Diagon Alley. The school term for Hogwarts was nearly ready to begin, which had become little more than a painful reminder to Draco. Nearly five years prior, Draco’s wife, Angelique, and their four-year-old child, Dominick, had perished at the hands of a small sect of dark wizards known as The League.
It was hard to think of them at any time, but at times like this, it was an especially bitter potion to swallow. Draco swirled a glass of fiery amber liquid, before tilting the glass to his lips, and letting the whiskey slide down his throat.
Finally, he glanced away from the window and down at the parchment resting on his table. It was a letter from Albus Dumbledore, welcoming Draco to Hogwarts as the new potions professor. Apparently, from the gossip he had heard, Professor Snape had finally been accepted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. For as long as Draco could recall, Snape had been after the DADA class.
As Draco reread the material, he snorted and swallowed another swig of the fire whiskey. What in the name of all that was holy possessed him to accept the proffered position in the first place, was beyond his line of thinking. Along with the letter welcoming him to the staff, there was a small side note instructing him to pick up any ingredients he might be in need of, at the cost of the school.
The cost mattered little to Draco. He had inherited a great deal of galleons when his parents had perished in the Great War. In addition to his own funds, the trust fund Dominick had, as well as Angelique’s inheritance, both from her parents, had reverted t him. No, he certainly did not need any money.
His acceptance, at the time, had been based more on his desire to tie up his spare time, something else he found himself in abundance of. Spare time had done nothing save serve to make his mind wander. Taking a final swig of the bitter whiskey, Draco tossed down a galleon for a tip, scooped up his letter, and was out the door. His long black clever cloak swirled around him as he left. Dressed entirely in black, with his shock of white-blond hair, Draco Malfoy cut an imposing and impressive figure.
During the past few years, Draco’s appearance had changed a good deal, and understandably so. It wasn’t that he was unkempt, merely that his previously elegantly groomed façade had slipped, leaving behind this man who looked rugged and dangerous in his stead. Most women would likely agree that he was more appealing now than before, with his bad boy appearance.
Gone was the pale skin and soft body, replaced with a healthy tan, and a toned musculature. Draco’s hair reached just over his collar and was haphazardly tossed back from his face. Most noticeable of all, however, was the hard stare he fixed on people, a stare that made one feel as though he was looking directly into your soul.
As Draco stepped out onto the street, he could feel the eyes on him, though he ignored them. He did pause briefly to glance around, his eyes darting from figure to figure with no agenda. Finally, they settled onto a small gold gilt sign for the potions shop. His purposeful strides pushed him across the street, and into the shop of choice.
In the years immediately following school, Draco had started fiddling with different items, and had come up with his own unique potions. Certainly, Draco had excelled in his potions class, but never before had he shown an initiative in deviating from the course work. Once he started, he found that he had a knack for making potions out of supposedly “unpotionable” spells.
A year before his wife and son had perished; Draco published a potions book, which was now a common textbook for the 7th year students at Hogwarts, as well as other magical institutions around the world. Draco had just been starting to research new potions for a second such text when the “accident” had occurred, leaving him devastated, and empty feeling.
Despite the years separating him from the deaths, Draco had yet to finish the text. He had only just started working on it again, over the past year. The newest text would center around the ability to quick brew potions, which presently would take months or longer to brew. Basically, he was putting together potions to mimic existing ones, using different ingredients. Draco’s current goal was to create a quick brew polyjuice potion, which would hopefully last longer than it’s current method.
Upon entering the shop, Draco’s senses were assaulted with the many scents coming from the different powders, herbs, and other assorted ingredients. His potions were an escape from his life, and entering this shop eased his mind.
It took Draco no time at all to find the items he required and to set up delivery straight to Hogwarts. At the same time, he set up a standard monthly order for replenishing his private stocks, as well as his class stocks. Once this was accomplished, Draco set out with a flourish of his black cloak.
As he walked back down the street with little purpose in mind, Draco ignored the whispers, the pointing, and the stares. Quite honestly, the pale haired wizard rarely even noticed the behavior anymore. Draco paused abruptly as a door to a shop was thrown open immediately in front of him. Pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly to complete the scowl on his face.
A short witch with hair the golden amber color of whiskey stepped onto the path, her arms bulging with packages. Barely reaching his chin, the petite girl looked young, much younger than his own 29 years. However, when crystal clear cinnamon brown eyes reached his in apology, he knew she was his age, because he knew her.
Her hair was different, and her eyes seemed wider somehow. But she was the same. She had been pretty before, in an unconventional way. Now, it was simply in a more conventional way. Her looks were noticeable, not just to him, but to others as well.
Hermione Granger’s hair was several shades lighter than it had been before. Topaz golden highlights streaked the hair that was no longer frizzy. Her hair tumbled down her back in perfectly formed corkscrew curls now.
Hermione stopped abruptly, and glanced up as she started to apologize for nearly running the person down. As her eyes met his, however, her voice caught in her throat. It had been years since she had seen him, but she recognized him instantly, despite the changes in his appearance.
“I apologize, Mr. Malfoy. I didn’t realize you were standing there.” She finished her reply in an overly polite and stiff voice. “If you’ll just excuse me…” Hermione trailed off as she moved to pass by her old classmate. Draco’s arm reached out, however, halting her progress.
“No, please, excuse me. I was hardly watching just where I was going. I understand you are returning to Hogwart’s this year as the Arithmancy instructor, Professor…. Granger is it, still?” Draco asked her in a deep voice. He released her arm as he looked down at her with a polite smile on his face.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I am returning for my third year with the school, and will be starting my first year as the head of Gryffindor house.” Hermione looked up at him, half wondering at his politeness and small talk. “And yes, it is still Granger.” She wasn’t certain why, but it irked her that he would ask such a question, and she found it irked her even more to have to answer it as she had. Another part of her wondered just when he had grown into a man, but she quickly quelled that thought in her head.
“I look forward to seeing you again soon, Hermione. I need to be going myself. Good day.” With a tilt of his head, Draco left her standing there staring after him, wondering at his comments, and the use of her first name.
Chapter One Two Three