Disclaimer: How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood. I don't know, but a wood chuck will chuck wood before I own Harry Potter…. *sigh*

Night

Opening his grey eyes to the whiteness brought Draco to a familiar place, but as he turned to meet his newest and final companion, he was somewhat shocked. He hadn't expected muggleborn Hermione Granger to be waiting in the replica room of Malfoy Manor where she had been tortured ruthlessly by Draco' insane Aunt Bellatrix.

He blinked, but it was indeed the petite Gryffindor witch with the nasty right hook.

"Hello, Ferret." She said, with smile to show she meant nothing truly malicious. In fact, her tone was quite casual, as if she were speaking to one of her school acquaintances, like Hannah Abbott, or Anthony Goldstein; polite and friendly, but peculiar, here, seeing as she was conversing with Draco Malfoy.

He cleared his throat and returned the greeting, albeit awkwardly, as his mind seemed to recall every insult he had ever thrown at her of its own, cruel volition.

Hermione was seated on an ornate wooden table, her legs swinging gently off its edge as she took in Draco's appearace; his lithe form and white blond locks that gave him an angelic glow. She smiled.

"When I first saw you – on platform nine and three quarters, during our first year – I fell in love with you. You were stunning, and clearly a wizard. Your parents were beautiful standing together and I was jealous looking at you all. Perfect and pureblooded.

I wished that I had been born into the Wizarding world… to have known about it all before I turned eleven." She spoked melodiously, as if she were reliving the memories in her head. Her eyes seemed to look through Draco, unseeing. He shifted his feet nervously.

"When you said you were going to be in Slytherin, I begged the hat to place me there…" She focussed on him then. "And do you know what it told me?"

Draco shook his head.

"It said 'a muggleborn, in Slytherin? No, no... I think Gryffindor would suit you nicely. Less prejudice." She told the blond mockingly. "It had told me I was cunning, ambitious and intelligent, but it refused me Slytherin on the basis of my blood."

Hermione sighed.

"What's worse is that it only made me wish to be a pureblood even more."

She stopped swinging her long, tan legs that were dangling off the table and tilted her head to one side in a thoughtful pose.

"It was your insult in second year that brought me to my senses." She threw in casually. "I recognised the futility of want, and chose to be proud of who I was and who my parents were. I hated you for a while, for shattering my dream, despite the ugly truth that you had told me."

The slender girl slid herself from her perch and stalked towards the Malfoy boy with a grace that pureblood women strived to achieve and straightened his clothes in a very domestic manner that gave Draco a strange feeling as he stood motionless.

"I thought of you and all of the children of Slytherins and how ruined you were by your biased upbringings when I fought Riddle, standing by Harry's side. I fought so vehemently against Lord Voldemort because of you." She smiled sadly.

"Isn't it strange?" Hermione asked him. "How one can go from love to loathing and back again in such a short time…"

Her hand had found itself resting against a pale cheek as the boy drew in ragged breaths, confusion evident in his expression. This girl, who was speaking rather tenderly to him, was not supposed to be admitting these things to him. She should have been socking him in the nose much like she'd done in a fit of hysterical anger during their third year.

"Yo-you don't love me." Draco stammered, but he didn't flinch from her touch. She 'hmm-ed' in nonplussed manner, clearly having expected his denial of her declaration.

"And you don't know me well enough to judge that, do you?"

He had forgotten her stubborn nature and tendency for quick retorts. Draco couldn't help but smile.

"What I have told you is for your benefit. You'll be making a choice very soon." Hermione told him, removing her hand from his cheek and walking towards the monstrous bookshelf before selecting one of the ancient tomes.

Draco followed at a reasonable distance, twiddling his fingers as he considered how to best ask the question that sat at the front of his mind.

"How come…why are you here?" He finally questioned the brunette witch, emphasising the 'here' by waving an arm to indicate the lavish room of his ancestral home.

She tracked his hand with her expressive brown eyes, if only for a few seconds, before answering him.

"Professor Lupin once said that a person's biggest fear is fear itself." She began her explanation. "I had never been as scared for my life as in the moments when Bellatrix was Crucio-ing me. I thought that I'd never be able to return here without feeling the pain all over again. But then I died, and here seemed to be the right place. Being exposed to the room, without people in it, established it as any other room I had ever been in. It wasn't the location that I feared, but the idea that I would be scared to return."

Draco considered her theory, but was still slightly confused. After all, surely there were places that she would have preferred than this room in his home.

"I've overcome fear by coming here. There is nothing to fear anymore, not Death, not Life, not anything." She smiled and opened the enormous book.

A blackness suddenly covered Draco's vision and he cried out in shock before Hermione's smooth voice reached his other senses. The scene wasn't changing per se, because he heard and felt Hermione's maintained presence beside him.

"This is what lies ahead should we – or should I say you – choose the first option."

Draco's brow furrowed.

"Let yourself see this new Life, Draco."

Had they still been alive, the pointy faced blond would never have admitted, not even to himself, that hearing Hermione Granger speak his Christian name would be one of the greatest comforts he could have asked for. Instead, he let the blackness overwhelm him.

Before he could even process what was going on, he was swarmed by Not-Memories of what could be should he choose their reincarnation.

A young blond child, perhaps six years old, was running through a large back garden with enormous green bushes and a tree-house in the corner amongst the great branches of a large tree. His arms were splayed out beside him, and he was making loud noises as he tore across the grass to a kind-faced lady who caught him in a hug. There was no sign of anything magical; nothing at all like the childhood Draco had experienced in the Life just passed.

It blurred, and the blond boy was older, ten or so, and sat in the back seat of a dark green muggle car. A man was driving, one of his hands on the steering wheel while the other held the lady's. The boy smiled.

Next, the child sat at a table, opening a letter. He was a similar age, and it was only when Draco spotted a tawny owl being fed a treat inconspicuously by the man that he realised it was a Hogwarts letter. The lady read over her son's shoulder sceptically, before the man pulled out a wand, clearly trying to explain the reality of the situation to his family. The woman fainted.

The scene changed to reveal the Hogwarts Express, and a family with a daughter the same age as Draco's possible self were waving to an older child. They were obviously muggles, despite having been a part of the magical world for several years. The girl caught his eye and blushed, straightening her yellow sundress self-consciously.

The boy was older, perhaps fifteen now, and spoke to the girl from the step of the train as she waited on the platform, her curly hair held in a ponytail and a pretty pink dress on her slender figure, a pretty blush on her fine features.

The boy was in a club, dancing with the girl under the strobe lighting. Mesmerised by the slow music, he stepped closer and kissed her, smiling when her arms wrapped around his neck.

The boy waited at the altar of a large church, nervously twitching his fingers. A boy wearing tuxedo-like dress robes winked at him, before composing himself as music started – the church doors opening to reveal the girl, the woman, in a resplendent gown of white that shimmered and caused t he boy to swallow, painting a blissful smile on his face.

The boy was holding a tiny baby as his wife slept on the large bed, and he flicked his wand to summon a bottle of baby formula, placing it gently in the child's mouth and watching it suck greedily.

The pair grew older, watching children grow up and go to Hogwarts, like their father, or to muggle schools, like their mother. They were happy and smiled often. Their Life was good.

The girl, now an old woman with grey hair and a kind, round face lay in a hospital bed in St Mungo's. The boy, an old man with barely any hair left, sat beside her in a chair, whispering loving words to her. She closed her eyes, and the man didn't bother to wipe away the tears that fell.

The Non-Memories faded away and Draco's blanket of darkness was removed. He was back with Hermione, the girl from the vision, in his Manor. He swallowed thickly, remembering all he had seen.

"So, what I saw," he stated to Hermione, "was what we could have should I make the first choice."

The witch nodded, impassively.

"We won't have any memories of this, or of our past life. It'll be like starting again." She added with a gentle smile as she looked into the blond's grey eyes. "A new Life."

A new life, Draco considered. Thinking of all he had seen, the pleasure his counterpart seemed to find in his Life despite the lack of magical upbringing, and how he wouldn't be a Malfoy anymore. He wouldn't have to justify himself because of his lineage – wouldn't have to live for the ascension of the Malfoy name.

It sounded nice – different – Draco thought.

"What is the second option?" He queried.

Hermione sighed softly.

"We move on." She answered him. "We enter Death, and we don't return to world ever again. Instead, Heaven awaits us, and the journey will be over."

Heaven. Draco had heard a number of theories regarding what Heaven was really like, but none had been particularly inviting.

"Heaven…" He chose to ask Hermione. "What is it like?"

Hermione shrugged.

"That's all a part of the adventure - it's the Unknown." She supplied, as Draco turned away slightly to reflect on his two options.

Glancing over at Hermione, who was leaning against the shelves, keeping her face devoid of any incriminating emotions, Draco made his decision.

This new Life was everything his past life was not, and everything he had often wished it could have been. He would choose the first option.

He voiced it aloud, and Hermione broke into a smile before launching herself at him and pressing her soft lips against his. It was quick, gentle and almost too loving, but when she pulled away, he heard her whisper 'thank you'.

The white light flared more violently than ever.

**

A baby's cry punctuated the air and a pair of gloved hands wrapped the tiny baby boy in a blue blanket, the muggle machines beeping their assurances that the mother was safe and healthy.