After the war and Voldemort wins, he dies from old age; but not before attempting to create a potion to keep him alive. His remaining Death eaters finish what he started, and soon a potion that staves off death is in the hand of every pure blood, Death eater and the wealthy. The key ingredient to the potion? Muggle-born blood (No copyright intended, all characters belong to JKR)

[eighth year post-war] Everyone has their vices. They just so happen to be each other's. {all rights go to JKR ew}

How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco's daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing morning coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can't find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why is morning coffee with Draco Malfoy the only thing that makes sense anymore? *cover art created by @eternallyreadinggoodthings

Draco Malfoy is Voldemort's head Death-Eater, and Hermione Granger holds the key to his redemption. Together, they have to find a way to end the war in a world governed by draconian laws. Copyright © 2015 by Noelle N.

Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl.