The Promises We Keep

Summary: Ten years after 'The Sacrifices We Make,' Ginny Weasley seeks vengeance for the past. Hermione Granger seeks to protect her mate and pack at all cost. In life and death, we are bound by the promises we keep. Werewolf!Draco, Lupa!Hermione, AU.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Cho Chang, OFC, OMC

Warnings: Dark/Mature Themes, Werewolf!Draco, Lupa!Hermione, Dark!Ginny, Angst, Lemons, Character Death, AU

Author's note: I will say this once. Ginny Weasley will engage in dark activities in this fic. I am not bashing her, as she's actually one of my favorite characters, but as a result of past circumstances, she is quite broken (see this fic's predecessor 'The Sacrifices We Make'). That is all I will say on the matter. You have been warned. Additionally, there will be very little world-building, as this is a sequel.

Chapter One

Twenty-nine year-old Ginevra Weasley did not dream anymore. If she thought about it, the last time she had was sometime before the war. Pre-second Wizarding War Ginny dreamed about Quidditch championships, her friends, and a future that would never come to past. Now, Ginevra was thankful for a perpetual dreamless sleep because she if she did dream, visions of what could have been would haunt her.

She knew what awaited her on the other side: a love that never came to fruition; her brothers, Fred and Ron; and, more recently, her mother. All had been taken in their prime. Ginevra attended Molly Weasley's funeral two years ago, but if anyone had asked, she could not remember a single detail about it. The entire time her family grieved, she sat there, frozen and adrift in memory because she just knew that Molly Weasley had died of a broken heart.

Weasley women were tough by nature, but they weren't infallible. Her mother's death had been the catalyst for everything when she looked over the stops and starts that lead her here. It was as if she had finally, finally, awakened from a nightmare with a focus so sharp, it stung her insides.

Keenly brought back to the present, Ginevra scuffed the toe of her metal-capped boot in the cold ground as she shifted on her feet, uncertain. She wasn't typically one for melodramatics, but something inexplicable had driven her to the Prewett family graveyard. Duty, or some shit, she guessed. She sighed, frustrated, but determined to see this through.

Tapping her wand against her thigh, she began after several tries, "I've never ascribed to be the perfect daughter. Or friend, or sister, for that matter. I think you knew that. But I did try." Here, she sighed, and forcibly closed her eyes against a pain that wound its way to the surface. She beat it back as she always did and continued, resolved.

"I tried to be fair, even when I didn't receive the same in return." The young woman laughed, full of bitterness and scorn. "They told me to 'move on', you know? Mum and Dad. After you left. But look where it's got them. Mum's gone now, and Dad hasn't been right since. And through it all, I find myself … incapable." She looked off in the distance, lost in memory. Suddenly, she was eighteen again and fighting for her life. She thought she'd fought for justice, and for Harry, but …."I can see it so clearly," she remarked to the wind. "Malfoy and Hermione standing there, on the edge of battle. Oblivious to the lives they'd ruined."

She chuckled, a dark and twisted sound, as she continued, "All so she could execute her plan." She looked away as tears suddenly obscured her vision. "It was always about her," her voiced cracked as she recalled the bushy-haired witch of her youth. Ginevra had not seen the witch since that final battle on the shores of Shell Cottage. After the Light emerged victorious, she did not stay to celebrate. Admittedly, she ran away from it all, but the pain always followed. It was never far behind.

She twisted the witch's name as if the syllables were poison. "Hermione Granger. Neither you, nor Harry, for that matter, could go five minutes without talking about her." Taking a breath for purchase, she whispered to this side of living, "And look where it's gotten you both …"

Ginevra rubbed the heel of her palm into her eye, refusing to glance at the granite tombstone bearing the name of her deceased brother. His death had rent her soul. "But I never forgot about you," she whispered. "Or Harry. Does she come to visit you? I wonder, if Malfoy accompanies her? But that wouldn't be right. Your murderer coming to pay respects to the one he killed?" she mocked to the silent granite.

"Mum never spoke about that night at Shell Cottage. Dad tried, but … he couldn't. It hurt her too much. Until it was too much." Here, she sighed and straightened her shoulders, resolve creeping to cover every inch of her features. "But I didn't come here for that shit. During the war, there was never a proper time to tell you or Harry. Looking back, I guess I was too ashamed to. I'm not any longer." She lifted a freckled hand to eye-level and examined the appendage as if it were a foreign object. "Tom gifted me something all those years ago, in the Chamber of Secrets. Don't worry, I'm not a horcrux, silly," she giggled, imagining her deceased brother's reaction in the afterlife. "Still, it's rather intriguing. It took me a bit to understand why? But after all this time, I think finally I know."

Because dark magic always left behind traces. Always.

Ginevra lowered the hand as it clenched into a fist and wrapped herself in vengeance. Yes, she could name it now. Fierce winds began to pull at her hair, until it flew free, loose and unbound. She had tried waiting her vengeance out, as if it could be ignored, but it was always there. She had tried bargaining against it.

She stopped the day she put Molly Weasley in the ground.

It was then that she knew, finally, what her purpose was. Softly, she admitted to wind, "Neither one of us are innocent. Not anymore." Firmly, she finished, "And I swear to you and Mum, before I leave this earth, she will remember that." Ginevra took in the memorial her family had erected in Ronald Weasley's memory. She touched the cold stone before swearing, "I promise you that."

She took two steps back before Dis-Apparating away, leaving the howling wind in her wake.

'Prewett Palace' was anything but a palace, but seeing as Aunt Muriel had bequeathed the decrepit property to Ginevra after her demise, the three-bedroom cottage became her sanctuary these last few years. The cottage sat in the middle of a dense wood, overcome by undergrowth, and surrounded by a poorly-maintained muddy moat. Despite its rugged exterior, she had come to love its antiquated charm. She spent her free time warding and updating the property. She placed it under a Fidelius charm and made its lone house elf, Tulip, its secret keeper.

After her detour to the Prewett family graveyard, she arrived in the dead of night and pushed past the wards. Like thick syrup, the wards washed over her, welcoming her home. Her pilgrimage complete, she walked over the bridge, charmed to hover across the muddy moat, and entered the rustic dwelling she called home.

A brunette witch with silky black hair looked up at her entrance. "That didn't take long," Cho Chang remarked from her chair. "I didn't expect you back for some time."

Ginevra had crossed paths with the former Ravenclaw at her mother's funeral. The pair quickly bonded over losses they'd suffered during the war. Cho, the dutiful Order member, couldn't fathom how the Order lined up behind Hermione and Malfoy after Ron's murder. She became disillusioned after that. Very quickly, the two connected over past wrongs, and what started as idle conversations, festered and grew slowly into action. Cho, who worked in the Department for Magical Creature Collaboration (or MCC) as it was now called, steadily collected information on Hermione and Malfoy's whereabouts after the war. Through her position, Cho amassed numerous contacts with werewolves and other magical creatures. She had her ear to the ground around tensions that still festered between the Ministry and magical creatures. Ginerva found it deeply satisfying that for all her lobbying, Hermione Granger still had not succeeded in her life's work.

"I finished quicker than I'd expected. You've spoken with Roux?" Ginevra nodded her head at Tulip, who promptly started a fire to ward off the September chill. The crisp night air spoke of a brutal winter to come.

The pretty witch smirked into her mug as she took a sip of her tea. "You were right. His pack was eager to join us," Cho replied. "There are factions that are unhappy with Hermione's entrance into their world, even after all this time. They've been quiet because she's the Ministry's darling representative when it comes to magical creatures' rights, and to harm her would negate the progress she's made on their behalf. Not to mention, they fear Malfoy's wrath if anything were to happen to her. They …" she searched for the right word, "… respect her for the work she does, but it is begrudgingly given. But they fear Malfoy because of his power."

Ginevra perched a brow. "Even if she is mated to Malfoy and is the mother of his children? Is it true she has her own pack of werewolves?"

Cho tilted her head as she carefully chose her words. "Roux doesn't share everything with me because I am unkin, so I can't be sure. There are whispers that she does have her own pack, or that she rules with Malfoy over a large pack hidden within the Forbidden Forest. But Roux would never tell me outright. What I can sense is, his distrust. Werewolves are attracted to power, and there is no denying Malfoy and Hermione's pack is the strongest pack on the isle. Frankly, from what I know, I'm amazed they've managed to maintain their authority all these years. But you can see it in his eyes, there is a jealousy there. They all want what Hermione and Malfoy have."

"Your lover told you all of this?" Ginevra asked as she joined Cho at the table. A mug appeared by her hand. She took a sip and nodded her thanks to Tulip.

"Roux is quite chatty after sex, but what he cannot say out loud, I can read in his body language. But no matter, he has pledged his pack to our cause. He's curious as to what mere witches can do to overthrow the strongest Alpha and Lupa seen in a generation. All the same, he wants them gone."

Ginevra smiled, and pretended to examine her fingernails in earnest. "I bet he is. Tell your lover to lay low. We'll contact him in due time. In the meantime, how many packs does that bring us to?"

"Three now. They're rather small, but it's better than none at all. I'm travelling with a Ministry envoy to Wales this weekend. I'll see if I can discern any other … disaffected packs for our coalition."

Ginevra smirked and took a sip from her mug. "Brilliant."

an: When I completed 'The Sacrifices We Make,' something drew me back to these characters. I had unfinished business with them, and so, this story was conceived. I hope you join me for the ride! Til next time. ~L