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Draco lounged around the Manor, bumbling around the buildings and the corridors as he trailed his fingers along the wallpaper. The material beneath his fingertips feels off. He had never felt this inhumanely bored before, though the only situation he could compare now to was when he was a young child, maybe around five or six years old, and his parents were too busy entertaining their friends in the large Manor ballroom and with no elves to pester, he had no one to entertain him. He had been left alone.
Today, he shouldn’t be bored. There was a war going on around them, ruining the state of Wizarding Britain but he was on the “right” side of the battle. Draco was a Death Eater. He was safe. He wouldn’t be hurt by the fallout.
However, his life was minutes away from changing.
A simple click of a command passing from Lord Voldemort’s lips was changing his life.
“Infiltrate the Order. We need someone on the inside, messing with their inner workings and their missions so that we gain the upper hand once again.”
Voldemort’s loud and booming voice declared, staring down at Draco. Intimidation. His snake-red eyes were glaring deep into the blond’s soul, pushing at his emotions until he had nothing else to say but accept the command.
Draco had no way out of this mission, he had to accept. He wanted the Death Eaters to have the upper hand again, right? He wanted to please his parents. He didn’t want his mother getting hurt anymore, she had experienced torture at the hands of their master for too long.
The morning of him leaving the Manor, he found himself staring at his changed reflection in the mirror. Not recognising the person in front of him.
To make this transition and infiltration believable, Draco had to change his appearance. Look like a young woman who has been struck out by the Death Eaters. Opposite him was an almost spitting image of his mother when she was younger. Long flowing blonde hair. Grey eyes full of life. A petite nose and all the sharp points of his face softened as he didn’t recognise the happiness that echoed in this lie.
The only thing that was similar on their bodies was the Dark Mark but he wasn’t free. She was. This fake person.
A long deep gash sliced across the mark signified that this young woman had been struck off by the Death Eaters and had been abandoned by the group she thought welcomed her, which left her alone and banging on the front door of the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters.
A voice modifier had been placed over him along with several other charms that allowed the transformation to stick — magic that their side had been perfecting for weeks. Along with a new name, Draco no longer was the boy haunting the Manor.
Draya Black — a distant forgotten relative of the Black family was the story she had decided upon — was the newest member to be cautiously welcomed into the Order.
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A meeting was called several hours after her arrival. And she tried her best to keep a straight, unaffected face as Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger stumble in and sit the closest to her and Kingsley. Draya fiddled with her fingers nervously, staring at the faces of those she’d been fighting against for months and now they were on the right side with each other.
Once everyone in the Order, or at least everyone that was here at the time, arrived, she was waiting on bated breath for SOMEONE to start speaking. She wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.
“Who the hell is this?” Weasel was the one to break the silence in the end.
“Draya.” She stares down at her hands, nerves shuffling through her. Draco wouldn’t act like this but she needed to think of them as two separate people because otherwise, she’d find herself getting confused.
“Draya?” Granger’s voice was stark against the other voices echoing around the dining table.
A small nod came from Kingsley before he leaned across the table, commanding all attention to fall onto him. While Kingsley explained everything that Draya had come up with, she felt the aggressive hot stare coming from the curly-haired Gryffindor. It was like she was staring into Draya’s soul to know the truth.
“...Granger, you will be Draya’s mentor and the two of you will be sharing a room here at Headquarters,” Kingsley explained.
“What?” Granger questioned, her voice cracking with a squeal.
“What?” Draya asked, turning towards Kingsley. That hadn’t been a part of the equation.
And that was how she found herself sharing a bedroom with Hermione f*cking Granger. A Mudblood and a Pureblood share a space together until her mission of infiltrating the Order is complete in Voldemort’s eyes.
“Turn around, please. I need to change.” Hermione’s voice was quiet.
With a shuffle and muttering under her breath, Draya turned around and stared at the wall.
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Life was a mess at the Order Headquarters.
Draya had started messing around with the missions but it was tricky to be alone long enough to be able to screw them around. Granger was always hovering around and if it wasn’t her then Kingsley wasn’t far away from hovering. She really struggled to complete her mission but found herself enjoying the company of Granger, even if sometimes the overcrowding got a little bit too much at times.
“Draya.” Hermione nods, passing the blonde in the corridor with a large smile across her lips.
“Hermione.” Draya smiles, nodding back. The temptation to utter “Granger” was too strong but she couldn’t allow suspicion to arise from any wrong move. She needed to keep her head down and be a good member of the Order, not hurt anyone with any wrong move.
The Order of the Phoenix was a chess board and one wrong choice would mean a loss for this side.
However, wasn’t that the idea? Draya was a Death Eater, she was supposed to be batting for the loss of the Order. Her side was supposed to win this War. But, why was she suddenly having a change of heart? What the f*ck was happening to her?
Too long surrounded by bloody world saving Gryffindors.
However, during the raging battles against her own friends and family, she could feel her heart changing ever since. She felt a lot of things about herself changing since battling against the side she had been raised to respect. It felt odd.
“Draya!” Hermione calls across the field, her voice echoing throughout as she runs towards her and stops a killing curse hitting her chest, the grazing of a spell hitting his side. Draya stared at Granger, panting loudly and shaking herself from the stuttering of a moment that just happened. She was close to death and Hermione Granger just saved her. “You idiot!” She slapped the blonde’s chest.
“Hermione, you are the craziest woman I've ever met. And for that, I owe you my life. From now on, you have my trust.” Draya stares at the curly-haired Gryffindor. The realisation hit her like a sudden bullet to the heart.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Draya’s heart was beating faster and something changed. Almost like someone clicked their finger and changed the way she was rooted to the spot.
Hermione’s lips pressed against his cheek. The feeling there and then was swiftly gone again.
A blossoming had attacked her, flowing through her bloodstream and she knew that this infiltrating mission was a mistake.
She had failed her Lord.
She had failed.
Draya had failed by falling for a Mudblood.
She had fallen for Hermione Granger and she was in the wrong body. And Hermione thought that Draya was a woman.
She had made a massive mistake here.
Cheers surrounded her as they all apparated back to Headquarters to deal with the injuries. Draya smiled before clutching at her right side, her hand moving away slightly as she stared at the blood covering her hand. It was seeping through her shirt. She gasped, the sound grabbing Hermione’s attention as she turned around.
“Draya, what’s wrong?” Hermione steps closer. “You’re wounded.” She balances Draya against her side, hobbling the two of them towards the small medic room they had built into Headquarters as the weight against Hermione’s side got heavier. “Draya, hold on. Hold on.”
The sight of Hermione and the other fleeting members of the Order began to fade to black as the blonde lost consciousness.
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Giving the blond some space, Draya and one singular medi-nurse were left together inside the room with Hermione nervously pacing outside of the room. Hermione was supposed to make sure Draya stayed safe but she had failed that today.
Several other Order members stand close. Kingsley is sitting against the wall, with Ron grumpily standing beside the older man as they wait for news about what happened to Draya. Hermione is drumming her fingers against her knees, as the pacing stops.
The medi-nurse exits the room, whispering quietly to Hermione as a look of astonishment paints her face before she follows the nurse back into the room.
Draya is lying down, opening her eyes slowly. Draya sees Hermione and smiles warmly at the sight of her. She slowly sits up, allowing the blanket to fall to her waist and almost like a spell washing over her, Draya’s face changed. The points poked back as the hair shortened. It was like being splashed completely with water.
Draco notices Hermione’s surprised look and that’s when he realises what happened. His masculine form is on show again. As if the blanket can force the magic back on his skin, he picks it up and covers his clothed chest.
“I can explain.” Draco panics.
The door opens with a sudden burst of anger, bouncing against the wall with a bang. Ronald enters, staring at Draco with shock written as pure as the sun. “It’s true. I knew it. I knew there was something wrong with this supposed ‘Draya’.”
Hermione storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridors until they are practically silent. Draco tried calling after her but it was pointless.
Pulling his arm, Ronald drags Draco out of the bed and out of the room, showing him off like a fish to the rest of the members who had all crowded around at the commotion.
“Treacherous snake!” Ronald declares, shouting.
Draco was staring at everyone, clearing his throat as pain shuddered through him. “My name is Draco, like many of you obviously know.” He rolls his eyes. “I did this to save my mother. I’m fighting for your side.”
“This is practically treason.” Ronald scoffs.
“I wasn’t sure it was going to go on for this long. My opinions and options have changed. I am fighting for your side. Voldemort has no chance of winning. I can see that now.” He tried explaining everything that he’d realised but they weren’t listening.
“Ultimate dishonour.” Ron spat in his face.
“It was the only way. I’m sorry. Please believe me.” Draco begged.
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Voldemort storms London, his naked feet touching the ground as the fire spreads around him and his loyal Death Eaters. Nagini slithers around his feet, the most loyal out of the group. He glances around with a smirk. There is a death silence echoing throughout the city as Voldemort’s steps on the gravel are the only human sound, apart from the several mutters and laughs of insane Death Eaters.
They move as a group, together as one mass.
Sneaking out of Headquarters and starting to walk away from the first welcome home he had felt safe within, Draco notices the hum changing in the air as the fire flickers like a tongue against his skin. The heat kissed him as he tried running quietly back towards Headquarters.
He bursts back into Headquarters to be alone. They’ve already gone. Draco leaves once again and tries to follow the shouts that coming from around the corner. The hum grew louder as Voldemort’s shouts and cheers were followed by booming and shattering of spells flying from both sides.
“Granger!” He shouts out as he pushes through the Order crowd to get to her.
“What are you doing here?” Hermione stops as the rest of the members of the Order push past them to get closer to the fight.
“To fight. To fight with you! Why else would I come back here if I wasn’t on your side? You said you trusted Draya. Why is Draco now any different?” Draco was panting heavily, his wand slipping in his sweaty hand.
“Fine.” Hermione shrugs, sighing as she thrusts herself forward into battle. Fighting alongside her friends and family, Draco is by her side as he fires spells and attacks at his own friends and family.
Spells grazed his cheek as he moved with an easiness that had been forced into him by fellow Death Eaters and was now used against them as he carefully fired spells against the members he hated the most. A smirk bloomed across his lips as he shot a killing curse directly into the chest of Dolohov, a thumping noise ringing out as the older man hit the ground.
Potter was towards the front. A face-off battle. Potter against Voldemort. Like the prophet had called for.
This had to end now.
Draco’s hand found his in Hermione’s as a quiet dusk settled across the makeshift battlefield. Death Eaters — the ones still alive — moved away as they watched their master face the boy. A final green curse flew through the air towards Potter as he fought back with a Stupefy.
Draco watched with a bated breath, clutching Hermione’s hand tighter.
They watched along with everyone as the spell cracked through Voldemort’s wand — the Elder wand — and burst through him like nothing Draco had ever seen before. Hermione gasped as a high-pitched scream sounded through the battlefield that London had been turned into as Voldemort’s body turned into dust, being carried away in the wind.
They’d won.
The good had won.
Draco had helped the Order win.
He had failed his mission. But, in a sense, succeeded in his mission.
Hermione flung herself into Draco’s chest, her arms flying around him as she gripped him tight into a clutching hug. “Um…” Draco laughs. “You…” He remains quiet, staring down at her. “You fight good when you’re fighting on the right side.” She laughs, nuzzling her face into his chest, hiding her face.
“Oh, thank you.” Draco absorbs the compliment with a huge smile across his lips.
“You did good, Draco.” Hermione acknowledges as she kisses his lips lightly with a smile. “You did good.”
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