That Which Destroys Me

Chapter 1: Never Challenge a Malfoy, Darling

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I just like to make the characters suffer and do dirty things to each other. Oh boy, here we go. Join me in my plunge into this deep, dark pit where Draco Malfoy plays out my depraved fantasies.

None of this was my fault, Draco thought petulantly. Did he ask for it? Hell no. Was he surprised? Yeah. Well, actually he was Draco fuckin' Malfoy and all Malfoys before him got the same letter. In fact, he was pretty sure all of this was the fault of that crack-pot old fool, Albus Dumbledore. The arsehole probably thought it would be amusing to pair him up with the bane of his existence and watch the anarchy go down before him.

The letter in question, the one which sealed his fate for the next year, was in his mother's clutches as she twirled around the living room, emitting shrieks - albeit graceful and ladylike ones, but shrieks nonetheless - of joy. His father was eyeing her over the top of The Daily Prophet in his hands, assessing whether it was safe to lower his shield. Draco watched her warily as she got closer and closer. Before he could even blink, the mad woman had grabbed him and crushed him against her chest.

"Unhand me, Mother!" he demanded, but his words went unnoticed as she rocked them side to side to the beat of her sobs.

"Oh my baby boy is going to be Head Boy," she cried, letting her tears further destroy any semblance of a hairstyle he had left after her deadly hug. "Finally a Malfoy tradition I can be proud of."

Lucius let out a sound akin to choking and Draco snickered as he tried to imagine the flabbergasted expression on his snooty face. Actually, he didn't have to imagine. He wrangled himself out of the woman's death grip and snuck a glance over her shoulder. The look on Lucius' face was worth it, Draco decided as he fixed his hair and smoothed out his clothes.

"Now, Narcissa, that was uncalled for -" Lucius began to sputter but Narcissa shushed him with a wave of her hand.

"Oh hush now. Our precious Draco is going to restore our tainted name and make his mother proud. Oh my, he's all grown up, my baby boy," she wailed and lurched forward to grab Draco into another hug.

Thankfully, he retained enough of his senses to side step her unfurling talons and hedge towards the doorway.

"If that would be all, Mother, I'd like to return to my wing. I'm expecting Blaise to join me for a game of Quidditch this afternoon."

"Oh but we must celebrate tonight. Mister Zabini can even join us. How about that beautiful restaurant in Prague your father took me to for our anniversary? Lucius? Why are you being so quiet? Your son is Head Boy, just like you were in your seventh year. Aren't you going to give him any advice?"

"Darling, I -"

"Wait, Lucius! It just occurred to me. He's a man now! He'll be graduating in less than a year," she interrupted as another thought hit her. "When are you going to make your mother happy and bring home a beautiful bride. I want grandbabies, young man!" She turned to Draco and waggled her finger. It was his turn to choke and Lucius smirked from his place by the fireplace.

"Mother, I was under the impression your heart was just bursting with joy at receiving this letter," he gritted out after shooting his father a dirty look and composing himself.

"Don't act smart, Draco."

"I was just concerned for your wellbeing, Mother. I wouldn't want your heart to overdo itself with such immense happiness," he said innocently, batting his long eyelashes while a smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth.

"Narcissa, what about -"

"Ah yes, Lucius. Draco, do you have any idea who the Head girl will be?"

If he hadn't been so well trained with hiding his emotions he would've flinched and his parents would've noticed his discomfort right away. As it was, Draco was a Malfoy and had trained under the Dark Lord himself, and so in the calmest voice possible, he said, "I have no doubt it will be Granger."

"Granger?" Narcissa's voice was faint and the smile on her face faded. "Kippy, could you bring us some tea?"

The head house elf of the manor came padding out of the kitchen moments later, his large ears flopping all over the place as he moved. "Kippy broughts the tea, mistress."

Kippy's beaming smile stood out between the ashen faces of Draco's parents. Narcissa gracefully fell back into the sofa behind her and took the steaming cup from Kippy's outstretched arm. Lucius also took a cup but didn't drink from his, instead sitting there with a constipated look on his face. Draco supposed they'd need some time to adjust to the news, just like he had when he'd initially gotten the letter. Of course, they hadn't spent the past six years around the bossy, know-it-all so they shouldn't even be as taken aback. He was the one who would have to share a common room with that bint, not them!

"Isn't she the one…." Narcissa trailed off anxiously, for once none of that regal confidence keeping her put together.

"The one your batshit crazy sister tortured on the floor of this very living room?" he muttered dryly, avoiding the even bigger truth. Granger was more than just the mudblood who was tortured in their living room and checked into their dungeons for an extended stay. Thankfully, neither he nor his parents actually wanted to hear the words out into the open. "Yup, that's her."

"Draco!"

"What, Mother? As if it isn't true. She probably still carries the scars on her body and has nightmares about it every night."

"Draco, what your mother is trying to say -" Lucius began in that patronizing tone of his but Draco toned him out with his own mutterings.

"Merlin knows none of us actually sleep through the entire night."

It was true. When the sun went down, the vast halls of Malfoy Manor echoed the haunted screams of its occupants. The darkness had never truly left, despite all the remodelling his mother did. The grand living room, in which they were currently enjoying a pleasant Sunday afternoon, no longer had dark walls and ancient furniture. The polar bear his great-grandfather had poached and transfigured into a god-awful carpet had finally been removed along with the portraits of their ancestors. They had been relocated to the abandoned South wing, far away so they wouldn't have to listen to the constant yells of "Blood-traitors!"

Draco loved the sage walls with their cream accents and the priceless Wizarding and Muggle paintings that adorned them. All the furniture had been replaced with custom designs from Italy, bringing with it memories of sunsets in vineyards. Despite the warmth and inviting atmosphere the entire room radiated - a testimony to his mother's skills - he couldn't help but recall the horrors that happened here. It may not look the same as it did in his nightmares, but this room had witnessed some of the most horrific experiences of his life. The pained screams of the brave lioness would never stop ringing in his ears, no matter if he was awake or asleep.

"Please, Draco," Narcissa pleaded, "As if I weren't there for the entire awful experience."

"It doesn't matter," Lucius interrupted. "We helped vanquish the Dark Lord. We supported the Order and Ms. Granger is aware of that."

"Doesn't change the fact that she hates my guts," he pointed out, rolling his eyes at their pathetic attempt to mollify the situation. "And I hers."

"Don't tell me you're still going on about the blood prejudice thing."

"Mother, that girl is living proof that all that blood prejudice stuff was a pile of dragon dung. Though, she's still a bossy, know-it-all with morals that she grips tighter than her chastity belt."

"Draco!" Narcissa looked positively appalled.

Lucius scoffed and remarked dryly, "You're still not over the fact that you're only second to her in marks in the entire school?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at that smirk and opened his mouth to give a sharp retort when the fireplace gave a roar. Green flames gave way to a tall, dark-haired Italian and he stepped forward, brushing off imaginary soot from his robes. Arsehole. He knew well enough that the fireplace had been charmed to automatically cleanse anyone who came through.

"Mrs. Malfoy," he crowed, striding over to Narcissa and bending over to brush his lips over her knuckles. "I swear you look younger and younger each time I am graced with your beautiful presence."

Draco scowled at the back of his arse-kissing head and the bastard had the nerve to greet Lucius next.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir," he said evenly and held out a hand for Lucius to shake.

As always, they were absolutely charmed by his presence. You'd think they'd forgotten who their son was and, as such, they shouldn't be so impressed by anyone else.

"Are you quite finished?" he growled as Blaise continued to suck up to his gullible parents.

"Oh, you're here too," he deadpanned.

"Hilarious," Draco remarked with a roll of my eyes.

"I didn't think it was possible, but you've gotten even more dramatic in my absence."

"Ah, yes!" Narcissa interrupted excitedly, "Tell me all about your trip to Australia. You must be exhausted from all the excitement of vacation."

"Oh he's exhausted all right. Just not from excitement," Draco snickered as he recalled Blaise's previous owl regarding the excess of female entertainment he indulged in.

Narcissi's eyes narrowed as she caught on to his words and Draco swore he could see her mouth open in slow 'd think after all these years she would be used to his crude humour. He hurried to save his own arse by grabbing Blaise's collar and pulling him towards the doorway.

"We'll be off now, Mother. Quidditch waits for no one," he called over his shoulder. Then, glancing at Blaise's expression as he walked next to me, Draco snapped, "Get that smirk off your face."

"I just find it amusing how afraid you are of a woman who comes up to your chest."

"I'm not scared of Mother," he scoffed.

"Right," Blaise drawled and coughed out a laugh.

Draco waited a beat and exclaimed with a shudder, "She goes from shrieking with joy to bawling like a goddamn faucet in half a second. It's madness."

"Just wait until you get married. You'll be dealing with the exact same madness on a daily basis," Blaise chuckled, looking entirely too amused.

"Airhead heiresses that are good for nothing but spreading their legs and spending all your galleons," he scoffed bitterly.

"You've known this was your future your whole life. Plenty of time to come to terms with it."

Draco frowned and swallowed the explanation that was struggling to burst forth from his chest. He wasn't a fuckin' Gryffinder. Those maroon morons with their bleeding hearts and disgusting tête-à-têtes.

"Things change," he finally offered in a clipped voice.

"You mean war happens."

Draco looked over at this man who'd been his closest friend for the past seventeen years. If he really had to give anyone the title of best friend, it would be him. Blaise knew him too damn well and he put up with all the shit Draco gave everyone around him. Anyone else would be afraid to stand up to him, but this motherfucker had no qualms about telling him to get his shit straight.

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"Even if I have to get you drunk," he said with an arched brow. "Some shit has been going on with you for the past few weeks, but you won't let anyone see. I gave you time. I get that the war fucked you up. It fucked all of us up. But I'm not going to sit back and watch my brother self-detonate."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the gall of him. Blaise returned his cold look with a firm one of his own.

Finally, Draco let out a sigh. "A game of Quidditch first. And then the alcohol."

"And I thought, 'Why not, you take everything else the wrong way."

The two roared with laughter, falling back against their armchairs. The sun had barely set and they were already drunk off their asses. Several empty glass bottles littered the table before them, blinking at the light from the chandelier above. Foolish grins lit up the haughty looks their Slytherin-bred faces permanently supported.

"Our sense of humour is kind of fucked up, Draco," Blaise admitted after they'd been quiet for a minute.

Draco snorted and tilted his head back, chugging the remaining contents of the bottle in his hands. "I figured that when you started the joke with 'So I asked this witch for anal sex.' "

That prompted another fit of sloppy laughter.

"The world is spinning," Draco sighed and said grimly. "But it's a bloody relief…hell-it's…now…now my head is spinning. For once, I can just stop - just stop thinking and stop thinking and stop-"

"Do you ever feel your soul screaming at you?" Blaise blurted out, interrupting his word-vomit.

"Uh - I think so?"

"No, listen. It's just wailing and then sometimes it wraps it's hands around my neck," he muttered. "It's trying to punish me for being alive."

"Zabini, why do you insist on killing my buzz?" he groaned.

"Stop being a pussy, Draco."

It was hard for him to take Blaise seriously, even in this state, when his words came out slurred.

"Fine, I feel it too okay. I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts and get away from these toxic memories," he gritted out, every cell in his body screaming for him to shut up and raise those walls. This is just Blaise, he told himself firmly. He's the only one you haven't scared away. Better make sure he sticks around.

"I can't even imagine the sort of fucked up shit you've seen with the Dark Lord as your roommate."

He held back a scoff. Blaise didn't know even the half of it.

Dark ocher eyes flashed across his mind.

"I get nightmares," Blaise whispered darkly and Draco's chest tightened. "I'm no bloody Gryffindor and so I'll say this."

Draco waited as his companion inhaled sharply and let out in a steel voice, "I'm scared to let myself sleep."

It isn't until nearly thirty minutes later, when soft snores filled the room, that Draco finally unclenched his muscles.

"Me too, Blaise."

"Draco!" Blaise called out just as the whistle of the train let out a warning shriek.

The platform was ridiculously crowed with idiots, who clearly cannot tell time, running around frantically. Peasants.

"Until next time," He nodded at Mother and then gave Father a pointed look. The bastard better keep her happy.

Draco boarded the train and followed Blaise down the corridor, eyeing a particularly nasty batch of first years complete with their snivelling noses and big, loud mouths. He opened his mouth to tell Blaise to stupefy any first year that got in the way, but instead choked on roses. Er, the smell. Not actual roses. Just as the painfully sweet aroma started to caress his senses, a pleasurable hint of cardamom floated by. His eyes drifted close to the hot pinch of cinnamon wafting over him and he was done. Snitch. Broomstick. Crash.

A jerk in his abdomen swirled him around and tugged painfully. Like cooing for her lover to join her in bed, the entrancing smell drew him close. H stumbled around and - oompf -nearly collided with a bird's nest. A really soft bird's nest. His hands gripped the shoulders of the petite figure that was bent over clutching her head.

"What the hell?"

He flinched at the familiar voice and winced as she nearly whipped him with her hair when straightening up.

"Who - Malfoy?" she yelped, jumping back in surprise. His fingers barely moved when she tried to pull away and she stared up at him with wide almond eyes. They both glanced down at his hands, which were still holding her.

He slowly let go, taking his time as he released the probably angry witch.

"What is your problem, Malfoy?" Granger yelled and narrowed her eyes.

Yup. Most likely angry.

"Good morning, Princess," he purred, smirking as he gave her another once over.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she caught the motion and blood rushed to her cheeks.

A shrewd red rose.

"Well it was until you came along," she growled and in his peripheral, he could see her reaching for her wand.

His hand shot out and wrapped around her thin wrist. Merlin, did this girl not eat?

"No need for such measures. We're all friends here," he murmured, his voice getting huskier near the end.

It was incredible how one small change made such a stark difference. Her bushy nest that she called hair was now a mess of silky curls. It was still kind of bushy, but it had been tamed into a wild sort of beauty. His hand twitched with the urge to run his fingers through those thick locks and pull just hard enough to entice a moan from the witch.

He had to admit that he did not see her dainty little foot coming and yelled in shock as she stepped on his foot with all her strength, which was not much actually. He barely felt a sting.

"Don't you dare, arsehole," she growled.

He leaned down until his face was inches from hers, staring into her furious eyes with his own icy gaze.

"Never challenge a Malfoy, Darling," he snarled.

He turned on his heel and headed towards the Slytherin compartment. Without looking back, he called over his shoulder, "I'll meet you in the Prefect's carriage an hour before we arrive."

He heard a shriek when realization hit her and he laughed under his breath. Surprisingly, she hadn't noticed the badge pinned to his chest.

The last little bit was his own small piece of retaliation. Don't punish the harpy, but give her a little something to agonize over. Potter and Weasley would shit a galleon when she told them the news. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk. At least something came out of the mess that was Dumbledore's twisted sense of humour.