A/N: TW: Coarse language. There will be three chapters.
Draco thought highly of Hermione Granger during first year and only disliked her because he hated being second-best. He found out she was Muggle-born sometime in October and was stunned. Muggle-borns were supposed to be stupid, inconsequential people who stayed out of the way of those with worthy blood. Granger was the opposite of those things. When Draco said as much his father replied,
"Then that is what you must make her."
Father was never wrong.
.oOo.
Draco called her a Mudblood just as his father told him to do. The pain in her expression made him feel good; it felt like he had won. When threats were written on Hogwarts walls in blood, Draco laughed. He was perfectly safe and it would scare all the Mudbloods in school. It was a win all the way around.
Then she was petrified.
Draco was frightened for her. Not that he ever told anyone, because he was not allowed to feel anything for her. She was dirt to be stomped on and nothing more … Except she wasn't. Deep down he knew she wasn't that, but if she was worth as much as him then everything he knew was a lie. It was easier to believe the lie than confront it, so he ignored the hole in his lungs that opened each time he saw her empty seat in class.
He missed having to look past her bushy hair to see the board. He missed how good it felt to see the disappointment on her face when Slytherin won a Quidditch match. That was almost as good as catching the Snitch. Draco wanted Granger in his life because she pushed him. He caught the Snitch to prove he was better than her at something. She always pushed him to be better in class, because one day he would outsmart her in something. He had to. He was desperate to.
Draco went to the hospital wing once before dinner. The Creevey kid and Finch-Fletchley were there, but Granger looked so unlike herself. She was frozen, a statue, the opposite of someone normally so full of life and knowledge. Draco looked down at her, too still on her hospital bed, and allowed himself a moment to admit he missed her.
.oOo.
Muffliato was a Slytherin secret, handed down from fourth-years to third years since 1975. When anyone asked about its uses the politically correct answer was "to have secret conversations in class." The reality was nobody wanted to hear the person in the next bed wanking in the middle of the night. It was November when Draco's fantasies shifted. Suddenly, the girl in his mind had a face …
Hermione fell from his lips as he came. Thank fucking goodness for Muffliato otherwise he would have a lot of explaining to do. Draco cleaned himself up, ashamed. It was a one-off, he told himself. Draco told himself again and again, a dozen times before he admitted something was wrong. Something had to be done so he taunted her friends. He took the piss out of her at every turn, hoping, praying that her face would disappear from his mind's eye.
Professor Lupin brought a Boggart to class and Draco thought he knew what it would turn into. His biggest fear would be his mother lying dead. It turned out Draco hardly knew himself at all.
When he stepped in front of the Boggart, Draco found himself surrounded by his classmates, his friends, all pointing and laughing. There was Theo up front with Weasley and Potter over to the side. Draco's father appeared in the back and looked at him with that face he always made when Draco fucked up. The crowd parted so Lucius Malfoy could make his way through. He stopped in front of Draco and said,
"You are my biggest regret."
Draco swallowed thickly. He felt his classmates watching him, judging his insecurity. Draco bit down on his tongue and willed back the water building up in the corner of his eyes. God, his father looked so real. He had seen this in his head several times, but never with his father physically in front of him. Everyone around was still pointing and laughing. Granger was on his right, doubled-over in laughter and taking pride in his shame.
He heard Professor Lupin call out to him but it was hollow, like the sound came through a tunnel. Draco couldn't feel the fingers of his wand hand. How was this funny? How could he possibly make this funny? There was no room for laughter.
There was no room for failure.
There was no room for second-best.
Draco would do anything to be what his father wanted.
.oOo.
Draco ignored his heart for three years. Theo admitted he had a crush on Tracey Davis, a girl a few years below them. Crabbe and Goyle were so thick-headed Draco was surprised they were able to find their cocks without a map. Blaise forgot to cast Muffliato one night, so they all found out about his thing for Roger Davies. Draco had no one to speak of.
Pansy had a crush on him, but it was obviously a one-way path. Draco took her to the Yule Ball because there was no reason not to. No one really captured his fancy. His fantasies blurred over the summer holiday and had yet to sharpen. Things were fine. Life was fine …
Until he saw Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball. She had slicked her hair back into an updo and she wore a lovely blue dress that made it appear she was floating everywhere. Draco had always assumed she made an effort in everything, just as she did with her schoolwork. He presumed the Hermione Granger he saw every day was all there was to her.
Draco would never underestimate Hermione Granger again.
Pansy had to constantly tear his gaze away from Granger because he kept looking back. It was not the first time Draco wished he was Viktor Krum, but goddamn his heart was doing an anxious dance that Bastien would say resembled jealousy. But that was impossible. Draco couldn't be jealous of Krum, but toward the end of the night he finally admitted what he had always feared: Draco had a crush on Hermione Granger.
.oOo.
The Inquisitorial Squad was the perfect excuse to keep an eye on Granger. Merlin only knew what the hell she was doing with Potter and Weasley. Yes, Draco was jealous and he hated himself for it. The worst part was that Granger and her fucking friends were not wrong. While their enemies were different, they all needed to learn the same things. Nothing Umbridge was teaching would do anything to protect them against foes that were all too real.
Voldemort had returned and most of Slytherin House knew it. Their parents were Death Eaters, and those who weren't had friends whose were. Draco was terrified. The Dark Lord had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor that January, just before Draco left for school. The man—was he that?—was terrifying. He could feel Voldemort before walking into a room. It was like the worst parts of himself were brought to the surface and any hope of happiness was left in the foyer.
Father was sent to Azkaban and Draco tried to stab Harry Potter in the eye with his wand. A couple Hufflepuffs pulled him back before Professor McGonagall arrived. He thought his crush on Hermione Granger would dissipate afterward but he was wrong. If anything, it got stronger. Draco wished he had her knowledge, her level-headedness. He would need it.
Theo confronted Draco just before the end of term. He knew. Bastien came up to him after dinner and said he knew, too. They insisted it was okay; Theo thought it would go away while Bastien said he should stop being a prick and act on it. Draco knew they were both wrong and he had to do something about it before anyone else could see what was apparent to anyone who knew him.
.oOo.
Draco gave Aunt Bella a hug and said, "I need you to teach me Occlumency."
She strapped him to a chair, pointed her wand at him, and shouted, "LEGILIMENS!"
Days and days each week for six weeks. Aunt Bella knew what Draco desired. She saw Hermione Granger in his head every time she entered his head and felt the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the sight. She glimpsed his fantasies and that made his face turn a deep crimson red. She did not judge.
"We all want to lie in the dirt, nephew," she said. "Perhaps when we win the war you can have her all to yourself, to do with as you please."
Draco pushed down the bile that rose up in his throat at the thought. Granger would kill herself before submitting to him. After a couple weeks of lessons it was easier to shut Aunt Bella out. Then she prodded him with insults, she Crucio-ed him once. Draco built a wall around his memories that not even the Dark Lord could penetrate. Draco's memories belonged to him alone.
And it was a damn good thing because upon receiving the Dark Mark, he swore allegiance to the Death Eaters and their cause. If there had been so much as a crack in that wall, Voldemort would have seen that Draco had no intent to uphold that oath. Draco only wanted to protect his family, and if he had to pay for his father's mistakes, so be it. He would fix this. He would save them.
.oOo.
Easter. 1998.
Draco expected to save his family, but he never expected to save Harry Potter. Aunt Bella pushed him toward the three detainees in the drawing room. He knew immediately that it was Potter since Weasley and Granger would not be travelling with anyone else. They weren't smart enough for a bait-and-switch, clearly, they had underestimated the Snatchers. But Draco looked into Potter's eyes and hoped he understood.
Fenrir Greyback was off in the corner. Draco wasn't scared of the Dark Lord any longer, not really. Death was something that followed him around like a cloud, but being ripped apart and bitten terrified him. Draco lost the feeling in his fingertips as his father whispered how important it was that "we be the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord." Fuck the Dark Lord and fuck Fenrir Greyback and fuck this whole goddamn war.
Draco looked to Hermione for no more than a half-second, but she had her eyes trained on Aunt Bella. The right move since Granger would be fortunate to make it out of that room with all her limbs attached. It occurred to Draco he had never seen Hermione Granger afraid of anything, never faced with a problem she could not solve. She had a determined look on her face but Draco had spent enough time bullying her to know what her confidence looked like. Whatever she was feeling was a hell of a lot closer to fear than it was anything else.
"I can't be sure," Draco said. He wanted to lie but knew his voice would give him away. He always had been a rubbish actor. Granger wasn't faring much better as fear began to leach into her expression.
"Look harder, my son," Father insisted. Draco leaned forward and prayed Potter trusted him enough not to do anything stupid.
"It does not look like him," Draco said aloud. "I can't be certain."
He saved Potter. He saved Weasley. He couldn't spare Hermione Granger.
Weasley offered to go in her place, completely ignorant of how much Aunt Bella enjoyed torturing Mudbloods. She said blood traitors were equal but that was a lie, she wanted to hurt Granger. Draco tried to leave. They sent him to fetch the Goblin whose name he wouldn't bother to remember. When he reentered the drawing room Granger was on the floor, sweat shining on her forehead.
Aunt Bella raised her wand again and Draco backed toward the door. Father grabbed the shoulder of his cloak and pulled him back. Granger's screams were the worst thing Draco ever heard. She screamed for nearly two minutes as Aunt Bella taunted her, shouted until her voice had died out. For minutes afterward she could only whisper, "Please," as her tears pooled on the floor.
Hermione Granger did not deserve that.
She was in and out of consciousness for the final minutes, likely a blessing. Draco would never admit how relieved he was when Potter and Weasley came running out of the cellar. Aunt Bella would be distracted so Hermione could have reprieve. Or so Draco believed, he was always naïve to the ways of war. He could never stomach it when it mattered.
Draco's allegiance shifted when Aunt Bella put her knife to Granger's throat. Even if Hermione was dirt, she did not deserve death. The more Draco watched her withstand everything Aunt Bella did to her, the more he believed Granger was worth far more than he ever gave her credit for. She was his classmate, for Merlin's sake! When they left Malfoy Manor, Draco realized that to survive, he needed to be more like Hermione Granger and less like his father.
.oOo.
Eighth year was terrible.
Everyone hated him, sure. They were not always open about it, but their disdain was evident in the little things. No one to pair with for group projects, somehow never getting to dinner in time to grab an apple … Small things.
Hogwarts was still scarred from the Final Battle, reminders lurking everywhere he looked. There was a suit of armor completely disassembled in the fourth floor corridor. The second floor was still stained with Lavender Brown's blood where Fenrir Greyback attacked her. Draco shuddered just thinking about it and avoided that hallway at all cost. Malfoy Manor was much the same, with Aunt Bella's shadow threatening to leap at him from dark corners.
"No, that's a three."
It was the first thing Granger said to him that year. It was the middle of November and they were working on Arithmancy together. "Together" meaning "in silence on opposite sides of the table." Granger pointed out that what Draco had read as an eight was actually a three. He thanked her and continued working, presuming it was a fluke.
Then she helped him again and again, so by the time December rolled around Draco was asking her questions. After the Christmas holiday, they ate dinner together. They swapped potions notes, notes for most classes since their N.E.W.T. subjects were identical. Graduation that year felt like a departure he wasn't willing to make. It felt like his relationship with Hermione Granger had only just begun and ended just as abruptly. They stepped off the Hogwarts Express, both sets of their parents waiting on the platform. They looked at each other once, hugged, then went their separate ways.
Draco realized once he had stopped competing with Hermione Granger he learned so much more, and became a better person for it. He wished he had done it a hell of a lot sooner.
.oOo.
Granger and Weasley announced their engagement in 2003. It took up the entirety of the front page of the Prophet. Draco scrunched up his nose and read the article. It was typical, mundane, and very Ron Weasley. They would be married, send him an invitation as a courtesy, and he would find an excuse to decline. Draco looked over the top of the paper at Astoria and remembered he was happy. He did not deserve someone as kind, as compassionate as Astoria Greengrass, but for some reason she was still at his side. Even with all that, Draco couldn't help but wonder whether he had let something better slip through his fingers long ago.
What could life have been?