Chapter 2: Hogwarts and beyond

"Hey you, I'll take that bed in the corner. I need more space for my dragon companion."

The thickset boy looked up at Draco, then stretched to his full size and took a deep breath to enhance his breast. "And who are you to tell me anything?" A second boy, smaller with a low forehead, came up to the side of the first boy.

Draco didn't feel out of sort at all. "I'm Draco Malfoy and I'm entitled to the best bed in the room. I have first choice because I have..."

The thickset boy didn't seem that impressed at first and cracked his knuckles. The second boy grinned broadly. Draco was about to finish his sentence and pull Fafnir out of his trunk, setting him on these unsophisticated apes when, suddenly, both boys cowered, looking anxiously over Draco's shoulder.

"What's going on, here?" came a deep, stern voice from behind Draco. The swish of a cloak and the unmistakable feeling of authority in the room made the two other boys take a step back and Draco look up in surprise.

The thickset boy spoke first. "Professor Snape, we were just negotiating who gets which bed. Draco Malfoy, here, insisted he gets the best bed in the corner."

Snape frowned. Lucius' warning from an earlier Floo-call firm in his mind, he knew he would have to do everything in his power to protect Draco against ridicule from his peers. His godson's obsession with his imaginary friend had not ceased and, until it had, he, Snape, would have to keep a steady eye on the goings-on.

"That appears quite alright to me, Mr. Goyle. I'll have no quarrels like this in my house, so you'd better sort this out without any 'discussions'." Snape's icy tone of voice left no doubt that there would be serious, uncomfortable consequences if his directions were not followed.

When Draco went, with a satisfied grin, to set up camp in the corner bed, Snape fixed Goyle on the spot with a penetrating glance.

"In fact, I'd advise you to stay on Draco's good side, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe. Draco's father, after all, is one of the school governors, and Draco is, among other things, my godson. The Malfoy family is quite high up in the ranks. As a Slytherin, I expect you to consider your loyalties quite carefully."

With a last sharp glare that went through Goyle's and Crabbe's thick skulls like a knife through soft butter, Snape turned with his customary cloak swish, leaving Goyle and Crabbe standing like sheep in front of an open gate: flummoxed and unable to take the extra step to freedom.

"Um," Crabbe ventured. "My father often speaks with high respect of the Malfoys. Perhaps we should …"

Goyle shook out his shoulders. "Yeah, we should."

Ambling over to Draco who had, unbeknownst to them, just set the Disillusioned Fafnir in a corner at the top of his bed, making it look like he was fluffing up his pillow, they both stretched out their hands synchronically.

"Hi, Draco. My name is Crabbe; this is Goyle. Need some friends?"

When Crabbe and Goyle were gone, hands shaken and partnership established, Draco rolled on his bed, laughing. "Boy, you sure scared them off. You were great, mate."

Fafnir growled after the disappeared boys and let some wads of smoke escape from his nostrils. "Don't you dare call me a pet. Yeah, you bubs."

With a pacifying pat to the head, he said to Draco, "Sure thing. It's isn't every kid who has a dragon for a friend."

A few days later, Draco sat in the library.

"Hi, my name is Hermione Granger. Mind if I sit with you for the study session today?" Without waiting for his reply, the girl with the impossibly curly hair put her book bag, which looked like it contained half the library, on his table, shoving his stack of books to the side.

Draco frowned at her over the intrusion. "Yes, I do mind. Go sit somewhere else."

The girl smiled. "Aren't you a grumpy one? What are you reading, anyway?"

"How to blow up unwelcome visitors," Draco mumbled while turning back to his book. She plopped down on the chair next to him, completely undisturbed by his lack of friendly reply.

"The food here is really different from what I had in my old school. I had pumpkin soup for lunch today. What did you have?"

"Minced Acromantula pie," Draco groused, unnerved by the girl's insistence to stay.

"Ewww, you did not. Don't be disgusting." Draco looked up at her tone and stared into wide brown eyes. It was a lovely brown, just like Fafnir's wings, all soft and squishy. It alerted him that there was fun to be had with this obstinate girl. What was her name again? Hermione? He snorted mentally. An annoying girl with a completely uncool name.

He grinned. "Yeah, I dietary order, my mother made sure I get it every day. If I'm lucky, I find a piece of leg or two. I really like to suck on those hairy pointy appendages." With glee he noticed the girl's disgust and saw her taking a deep breath to complain about his unsuitable study behaviour. He dealt her the last blow.

"Do you want me to describe the feeling of their spiky hairiness on my tongue in detail? Or were you leaving?"

With a huff, Hermione grabbed her books and left with a last exasperated look at him. Success! Draco gleefully thought about how he was going to tell Fafnir about this. He would laugh himself silly, the big lizard.

"Hi, erm, Draco, is it? I couldn't help wondering, why do you always look so grumpy? Don't you like school?"

He should have ignored her - Hermione Granger. It was the second week at Hogwarts, and Draco had found a good spot on the third floor, far from the usual paths, to give Fafnir some time to stretch his wings. He didn't expect anybody to approach him here, in this hidden corner.

However, for some reason Draco felt compelled to answer. "I can't believe I'm here, going to school. Fafnir just said, 'where did the summer go?' There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want. Now, I'll have to go to classes and study every day. As if I need it. I'm already smart. They should give me my degree and send me back home. "

The girl first looked at him quizzically and then scanned the area where they were clearly alone. "Who's Fafnir?"

When Draco clamped his mouth shut, not making any effort to answer, she chatted on. "I, personally, couldn't wait for school to start. I got all the books and already read them, too. We'll be making new friends and learning important things. I'd never heard of Hogwarts or that there are schools for magic before my letter arrived. Had you?" Her excitement radiated in a way that almost made Draco jittery, but only almost, because, as he stared at her, what she had said connected in his mind.

"You never heard of Hogwarts before? What, did you grow up under a rock? Oh, wait, I got it. You're a Mudblood. Right?" He sneered. "No wonder you're not normal and look forward to going to school."

The smile on the girl's face froze, and then it vanished, making room for a frown with furrowed brow. Draco could see that she was tempted to ask for explanations because her mouth worked like a fish's. Her arm twitched at shoulder level, and Draco wondered if she was one of those teacher's pets who can never resist the temptation of answering a posed question. His sneer deepened, and it had the wanted effect. The girl huffed, turned her head away, and left, goose-stepping down the corridor, without another word.

Later, Draco sat in a quiet corner of the library, undetected. "Look at her go, Fafnir. She's carrying more books than should be healthy. It's a wonder her spine doesn't fold. When you put another book in front of her, she balances her pile and even picks up the one on the floor and adds it to her burden. She doesn't let anything stop her."

He snorted. "How typical for a Mudblood, trying to catch up with what she should naturally know after years of growing up in a magical environment. And not using magic to levitate a book either."

"Don't you think you are a little harsh, Draco? She's just trying to be a good student," Fafnir replied quietly.

Draco shook his head in exasperation. "I just can't identify with that kind of work ethic. I'm a pureblood. She should do the work for me."

"Hey, Granger. Did you have trouble with the potions essay?"

Hermione shook her head in surprise that Draco the Slytherin addressed her after his brusque dismissals before but also a little bit pleased. "Not at all. Why?"

"I thought a few parts were tricky. Mind if I check my answers with yours?"

Hermione beamed. "Alright."

Draco smirked. "Okay, what did you get for question one?"

"7 ounces of dragon blood."

Draco quickly wrote it in the blank of his parchment. "Good, that's what I got. What did you get for question two?"

Hermione's eyes widened with the realization of how he was using her. "You didn't do your homework at all? You're copying your answers from me?" The notion of betrayal was written all over her face.

Draco sneered in response. "So? What else would a know-it-all Mudblood be good for?"

Her features darkened in response, and Hermione turned away with resolve. "Drop dead, Draco."

Draco's blood boiled under the surface. How dare she tell him to drop dead? He was one of the purest of the purebloods. He would make her pay. He would hex her to look like a harpy, not that it would take much to do that.

What an annoying girl.

It was time to resurrect the Powerful Pureblood Warlock. He had a mission. As a predestined pureblood, he had the duty to rid the world of Mudbloods like this Granger girl. It was of utmost importance that he made her life a living hell, while keeping up his impeccable profile as the well-behaved Malfoy heir.

Deep in thought, Professor Flitwick's calling his name almost escaped his attention. "Mr Malfoy, what is the incantation for the elevation charm?"

Caught in his mindwaves, Draco stuttered, trying to find the right train of thought. "Um, hm, …"

Flitwick gave him a reprimand. "Try to pay more attention next time, will you?"

At the end of the lesson, Draco donned his cloak. It was an irony of fate that his godfather, Severus Snape, did it the same way to give himself an air of authority, which only showed Draco how utterly important he himself was. It was in his power to change the world. This was his task.

He made his way outside to find a way to spoil Hermione's day.

Leaving the classroom, he intentionally banged into Hermione, making her stumble and stop.

"It must be awful to be a Mudblood," he hissed with malicious glee. When Granger looked up with wide eyes, he continued with a sneer. "I'm sure it's frustrating knowing that purebloods are bigger, stronger, and better at magic than Muggleborns."

When she narrowed her eyes while looking at him, he sniggered. "Really, if you're a Mudblood, what would make you go on living?"

"The thought of beating someone like you in every lesson and test, you git," Granger hissed back.

"Ha, as if you could, stupid girl," Draco finished with a snarl and turned to go to the Great Hall for lunch. "Why don't you give us all a break and do away with yourself?"

Granger smiled sweetly. "Who would put you in your place if I wasn't here?" she said in a saccharine tone.

Draco turned back. "I'm already in the right place, unlike you, Mudblood."

Granger held his gaze without a blink. "We'll see about that," she said and turned away, in the direction of the Great Hall, effectively cutting of the conversation.

With a deep frown Draco looked after her. "You're gonna make the tooth fairy happy tonight, Granger," he mumbled an empty threat into thin air before proceeding to lunch himself.

"Psst"

Severus Snape sat in his potions classroom, grading fifth year essays, tutting about the typical dunderheadedness of students in general, and some students in particular, when some noise disturbed him.

There is was again. "Pssssst."

"Who's there? Show yourself," he demanded fiercely and sent a Detection charm toward the door.

It turned out to be an 11-year-old boy, and subsequently Draco shoved himself into the classroom and closed the door.

Snape scowled. He hated being interrupted in his work, but he would make an exception for his godson, of course. "Draco, what is it?"

The boy stood in front of his desk, with hunched shoulders and a shifty look in his eyes. "Can you teach me the Reducto charm, Uncle Severus?"

"Standard spell for fifth year, Draco. Not yet."

Draco thought quickly. "How about a potion that blows up on contact?"

Snape shook his head. "There is one. But it's way too dangerous to hand to a first year student. By Salazar." He felt almost amused at the thought of a few students experimenting with it and blowing their hair off.

Draco huffed. "Well, I'm trying to blow a Mudblood girl I know into space, perhaps you have some suggestions?"

Snape stared at his godson as if he was seeing him for the first time. It seemed that, after all, Lucius instructions were remembered. After a disbelieving headshake, he tried to get rid of the immature boy.

"Draco, my boy. I'm a teacher. I can't help you. Go, just go. Do your homework, will you?"

Draco left grumbling, and Severus pondered what he could possibly do to curtail Draco's vivid imagination.

"What are you doing here? Didn't I just send you back to your common room to do your homework?"

"Twisted fiend. No four walls of enchanted stone can hold me, the Awesome Augurer! You've been foiled, evil god-father bat."

"Is that right?" Snape lowered himself to Draco's eye level to give him the full effect of his piercing glare. Draco seemed to have gotten the message when he suddenly turned and started walking back.

"Great Bott, he must have fixed a mind-scrambling Confundus charm on me. I'm suddenly filled with the urgent desire to go back and do as he nefariously bids."

"I'm glad to hear it," Snape mumbled with a deep frown. He had to have a talk with Lucius. The boy's imagination hadn't folded one bit. Severus would still be on the lookout for his plagued god-son, lest other pureblood families hear about Draco's shortcoming.

Much later:

"Look, Fafnir, a perfect buckeye." Draco had taken to walking his dragon close to the Forbidden Forest. He smuggled him, Disillusioned, out of the castle and, due to the fact that most students abided Dumbledore's request to avoid the forest, he'd found a perfect spot to be undetected. He was also able to avoid run-ins with the Annoying Girl. Speaking of which …

"It is pretty. What are you going to do with it?" Fafnir asked, lazily hovering over his companion, his snout next to Draco's head.

Draco's face took on a sly look. "I'm keeping this one. I'm going to dent Granger's skull with it from 50 feet in the air, hehe."

Putting it in his pocket, he missed the fact that Fafnir hid his snout behind his front paws and shook his head in exasperation.

"Hey, Granger, how was your lunch today?"

Hermione's face darkened as she became aware that her favourite table in the library was taken by none other than the boy she had come to loathe.

"Don't talk to me about lunch. I don't want to know what disgusting thing you had. In fact, don't even talk to me at all," she said with the deepest frown she could muster, while backing away.

Draco sniggered. "Relax, I wasn't going to say a word about my lunch. In fact, I was going to offer you a drink." He pointed to a flask next to him. "Care to join me?"

Hermione's face relaxed visibly. Even though she wasn't sure whether she should trust this mean boy's civil behaviour, she changed her direction and approached the table slowly. "Alright. What do you have there?"

Draco grinned smugly. "Well, that depends on whether you have some salt on you. You can swallow them just like that, but slugs are way more tasty and juicy when you shrivel them up first. Besides, I believe they pee, too. I would let you have the first taste, of course."

He thought the revulsion on her face was worth it.

"Way to go, Draco," Fafnir sniggered later in his dorm when he told him. "Barely arrived at school and already making the girls' heads turn. Not in the right direction, of course, but it's a start."

"Ha ha," Draco replied sourly, not at all pleased at Fafnir's reaction. "As if I wanted anything from a Mudblood girl like her."

"Wait! Oh, wait, I've got to savour this moment. She'll never expect a snowball in September. The brilliance of it, me, a pureblood of purest magical power, conjured a snowball from thin air, and I'm going to pelt her skull with it. Ha – haaa!"

Draco stalked through the deserted hallways of Hogwarts castle. The hallways were deserted because everybody was outside, enjoying the last sunrays of the late summer. It was a beautiful September weekend afternoon, and only Draco was up to some mischief. (And perhaps Fred and George Weasley, but this is not their story.)

When he detected her sitting alone by a grove of trees, a book in her lap, of course, he snuck up, closer and closer, hiding behind a tree here, a rock there, until he was right behind the tree she was sitting under. He barely hid a snicker while aiming and thought to himself 'This is going to be great. Here it comes, hehe.'

Yelling 'Hey Granger', he threw the snowball with all his might in her direction. It should have shattered right on her chest, sprinkling the book, her clothes, and her hair with flakes of snow in the process, soaking and shocking her – if only his aim had been better.

The snowball flew wide and landed right on the other side of her legs. He couldn't believe it. There went his career as a Chaser.

"I missed! Darn it, darn it, darn it! Of all the miserable luck! Aaarrrrgh!"

Missing Hermione's thunderstruck expression, he kept on complaining about his bad luck, because, of course, it couldn't have been his lack of talent, oh no. "She must have put a protection shield around herself. How can a Muggleborn have such talent already in first year? It's unheard of. Nobody could have known. I conjured this ball myself, showing the brilliance of my magical power …"

Lamenting, he missed Granger's wily reaction, when she scooped the splattered snow together to form a new ball. As soon as he looked up to take a breath, she threw the ball right in the middle of his dopey face.

With a victorious smile, she got up, gathered her books, and left him lying in a puddle of melting snow.

Fafnir laughed himself silly when Draco told him later. He had a bellyache for the rest of the day because of it.

'The Powerful Pureblood Warlock is on his way, another day trying to rescue the world as we know it from useless Muggleborns. Sitting in the classroom, cleverly disguised as his meek alter ego, Draco Malfoy, he tricks his target into believing he is completely concentrated on a History of Magic class, by fixing his ultra-strong eyeballs on the spiritual professor. Nobody would know that in reality he cleverly plots to hex the well-known Mudblood Granger with a Densaugeo charm, making her teeth grow so large she will trip and stumble to the ground where she belongs.'

He hears a whisper. "Malfoy!"

'Aiming his wand at the back of his target's head, he prepares the incantation while looking straight at the front of the class …'

Again the whisper. "Malfoy!"

'Den…'

"Malfoy, if you so much as direct a sparkle of magic at me, I'll have you hauled to Dumbledore's office for disrupting a class so fast you'll think you were dropped by a giant into a Portkey office," the angry whisper interrupted his careful deliberation.

Draco looked down at his wand. 'Wandlock! Blast it! The spell is jammed.'

A lone student stood not far from the Forbidden Forest amongst the abundance of snowflakes falling silently on an already white landscape. He was building, forming, sculpting, creating forms from the white mass. Dressed in his warmest cloak, his hands covered in gloves, he lovingly shaped a curve here, a corner there, surrounded by his creation.

The crunching of feet on freshly fallen snow announced a visitor.

"Let's see – a werewolf with what looks like a human leg hanging out of its chops, a Boggart in some ghastly form, a group of Dementors closing in, an Acromantula skewering a witch, I can see her uvula, her mouth is that wide open, a wizard torn apart by some spell or another, is that his nose over there, an Inferi, all standing around a decapitated unicorn with gore hanging out of its belly. I say, it's no wonder there's a Statute of Secrecy. If Muggles knew we magical people have weirdoes like you, they would lock us up."

Draco looked up from the unicorn leg he had just finished. Granger wore a red scarf over her cloak and had a wool hat pulled over her mass of hair, but there were still many strands poking out, standing up in all directions. Her nose was red from the cold, and her fists were clenched in her gloves, but her cheeks had a lovely rosy tone. Her face, however, expressed her repulsion, exasperation, and some kind of resigned understanding.

He drew his wand and cast a spell over his snow figures, making them look as if the by-standers leered and the almost dead unicorn twitched, its snow blood pumping out of its opened belly.

Smiling in satisfaction, he looked over his snow oeuvre and said, "When you grow up with monsters, you're used to seeing them everywhere."

Granger gave him a sidelong glance. After a minute, she replied, "Talking to you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out-of-body experience."

Then she shook her head and turned around to walk back to the castle. Draco stared after her for a long time, watching her retreating back, noticing how her cloak swished from one side to the other. To throw a snowball at her seemed more and more like a great idea. A white splotch would look excellent on the dark cloth of her cloak. With any luck, he would be able to knock her teeth out.

Why, he would need stupendous strength for a snowball throw so strong it would knock her teeth. This was a job for the Powerful Pureblood Warlock, Foe of Mudbloods and Defender of Pureblood Liberty.

With muscles of might, he rolled a snowball the size of a Quaffle and then summoned his broom. Wrapped tightly in his cloak, which he had straightened with the right authoritative swish, he got on his broom, up, up and awaaay, the snowball tucked tightly under his arm.

He followed Granger's footprints until he hovered right over his diabolical arch-fiend, Annoying Girl. Using his magnificent magical vision, he aimed, prayed to Merlin, and dropped the ball directly on her head. It burst with a big splash, muting Hermione's scream and covering her from head to toe in white, mushy wetness.

'A direct hit! Victory! PPW saved the day!

With Annoying Girl vanquished, the whirlwind wonder zooms back to resume his secret identity.'

Meek and mild-mannered Draco landed his broom on the Quidditch pitch and walked back to the castle at a casual stroll.

As soon as he reached the entrance hall, he was called aside by Professor McGonagall, who had a particularly stern face. "Mr Malfoy, will you come with me, please?" Turning toward the stairs, he saw Granger, wet and miserable in drenched clothes, waiting for her Head of House.

"It wasn't me," he countered immediately. "I was nowhere near Granger. I was on the Quidditch pitch, with my broom, see?" He held up his broom for proof but to no avail.

McGonagall gave him the look she seemed to reserve especially for bothersome Slytherins, and Draco had no choice but to follow her in doldrums, arguing all the way. "You got the wrong guy. I'm very mild-mannered. You need to look for the Powerful Pureblood Warlock, Magus of Magnitude. He likely threw a snowball. I'm sure Granger deserved it. Don't punish me, I've got nothing to do with it."

He shut up as soon as Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk and looked at him over her glasses. He knew he would get an earful - despite all his objections, he had been seen and identified as Draco Malfoy after all- and mate, did he ever. He was given the sixth degree with regards to respecting his fellow students, especially girls, the potential for injury when throwing a snowball from such great heights, he certainly hoped so, even though he didn't see anything obviously damaged in Granger's wet form, which by the way made him actually feel a smidgen of pity, she looked so miserably like a drowning cat, and for using his broom without asking permission. Subsequently, his broom was confiscated until further notice, based on his future behaviour, and he received detention with Mr Filch every night for the next month.

When he left McGonagall's office next to Granger, as soon as the door had closed behind them, she whispered, "Serves you right. You could have really hurt me."

Draco sneered back. "Who asked you, Mudblood? In case you haven't noticed, nobody likes you in this school, and that includes me first and foremost. I hope you suffer debilitating brain spell damage."

Fafnir greeted him with,"She's cute, isn't she?" when Draco returned to his dorm room.

"Go away, you big, flying serpent," Draco grumbled. The way Granger had almost cried and tried very hard to hold her tears back before she ran off didn't sit right with him. When he told Fafnir what exactly had happened (Fafnir didn't like the cold and had preferred to stay inside), his companion became serious.

"That was very rude, Draco. You know better. I think you should apologize."

Draco winced. "Argh, isn't there a less obvious solution?"

Fafnir snorted. "Well, you can choose your option of how to apologize: in person, by owl, by singing delivery, or, best, in person!"

Singing delivery made Draco think of Valentine's, which was coming up in two weeks, and Valentine's made him think of cards. "I know! I'll make her a card, see? A big red heart, with lace all around it." He conjured red card paper and cut a heart form with a Severing charm, then stuck some lace paper on it.

Fafnir smiled in response. "That's very sweet. I'm sure she'll like it."

Draco wrote on it: 'Granger, I despise you. Go drown in the lake. Say 'hi' to the Giant Squid while going under. Sincerely, Draco Malfoy'

The next time in the library, she cornered him with murder in her eyes.

"Malfoy, you twat. You sent me a hate-mail Valentine with black lace and a bunch of manure covered Screechsnap and Bubotuber."

Dumping it all on his lap, she screeched, much to the displeasure of Madam Pince, "So, there's a Valentine for you, you conceited twit."

The pandemonium that broke out when a pustule of the Bubotuber broke, splattering pus everywhere, so that all the other students sitting at Draco's table and Madam Pince tried to escape as quickly as they could, helped Hermione to get away without retribution. However, stomping back to her tower common room, Hermione thought with a hidden smile on her face, "A Valentine and flowers. Who would've thought?"

Draco snuck out just as quick while musing "She came to me. She likes me!"

The following weeks were spent exchanging pleasantries wherever they met in the hallway.

"Hey, Granger, you're so ugly, I hear your mother does a glamour charm every time before she kisses you good-night. Oh, wait, she can't, right? Because she's a Muggle! What do Muggles do? Put bags over the heads of their ugly children?"

"Snuff it, Malfoy. Didn't you get the Bubotuber pus off your uniform? Because it stinks like you have dead animals in your shoes. Too powerless to do a proper Scourgify?"

Fafnir just shook his head. "It's shameless, the way you two flirt. And in public, too!"

Until one night, at the end of the second week, it stopped. Draco was rarely about, and when Hermione did see him he didn't pay any attention to her. In fact, she thought, Draco looked rather forlorn, as if he had lost his best friend.

Draco hadn't been quite wrong with his snide remark that nobody liked her at Hogwarts. While Hermione had found friends in her fellow Gryffindor's, Harry and Ron, shortly after Halloween last term, her tendency to show her ability to answer each and every question in class didn't make her popular with the other girls in her House or her classes.

Therefore, fleeing one day from the less than subtle remarks about one well-known "Know-it-all" from a group of popular girls, she hid herself in a girls' lavatory on the second floor. She was sure nobody would follow her here, as it was widely known that this bathroom was haunted. Hermione had met the resident ghost once or twice, but Myrtle hadn't minded her at all. If you had strong nerves, you were able to use the bathroom without being distracted by her whiny lamentations.

Hermione warded her feet, just in case, as Myrtle's bathroom was prone to flooding, a side effect of Myrtle's diving. But on this day, everything was dry. Surprisingly, not only was Myrtle absent, but in a corner behind the wash-basin, distorted by a curtain of shimmery air, lay a stack of ancient books. Hermione felt a strong impulse not to touch the books. They were likely the personal property of a professor, the impulse indicated - invaluable and simply briefly left behind. The professor would come back to collect them, once she noticed them missing, with a strong implication of punishment to whomever had touched the books in the meantime.

However, when books were involved, Hermione had a near insatiable curiosity. She scooted closer, half-step by shuffle, until she could see the titles on the spines. "Most Potente Potions" it said on one, and "How to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death" on another (which told her that Professor Snape wasn't as freakishly clever as he wished to appear – stealing book titles, I tell you).

Hermione gasped. She would kill for a peek in each of these books, normally well-guarded in the Restricted Section. While her mental alarms rang "Danger, alert, battle station, ahwooga, ahwooga, do not touch, imminent death or worse, expulsion from school upon discovery" in flashy red letters upon her brain waves, her hand stretched out to grab the book on top. For only a quick peek, of course. Nobody would see. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes ….

…until her fingers closed around a smooth, firm material that twitched and was certainly not a book but rather a limb.

Her eyes flew open, and she saw a Common Green Welsh in pocket format. Well, a big pocket, admittedly, Hagrid's coat would have one of the right size, but a dragon version smaller than the original, for sure. Smoke curled from its nostrils, and its tail swished back and forth, but it looked at her rather friendly. Her hand held it by a leg, and when it shook off her hold, it spread its wings and flew up to her shoulder to settle on it.

"Hello, there, fella," Hermione said surprised. "Looks like somebody forgot you in the bathroom. How strange. Hm, you're a pretty one." The little dragon preened, apparently flattered at her admiration. She stroked soothingly over his back, careful to avoid the spiky spine. "Look how smooth your hide is. Each scale painstakingly reproduced and shimmering. And you move. I can feel the muscles rippling under your hide. What an incredible piece of magic. Can you really fly?"

The dragon spread its wings again and flew a turn around the entire bathroom, up to the ceiling, dipping into every stall and out again, and back to her shoulder. Hermione laughed.

"That was beautiful. I wonder … well, …" Befuddled by the Repelling charm on the area, and the alarm bells still ringing in her head, Hermione couldn't think clearly about the fact that this magical wonder surely belonged to somebody. "Well, I can't quite think. But that's nothing a cup of tea with the house-elves won't fix. Let's go, my dragon."

She was of sound mind enough to put a Disillusionment charm on the miniature and stuff him into her book bag, which was always filled to the brim and pulled her down lop-sided. Then she made her way to the ground level where she knew the entrance to the kitchen was.

Severus Snape was a torn man. On one hand, he wanted to protect his god-son from the wrath of the Dark Lord should he return. Dumbledore was sure he would return, it was only a matter of time. Snape was certain that to be protected from the Dark Lord one had to give him little reason to be angry. Difficult as this was in any case, he was certain that a delusional Malfoy heir was reason enough for anger. Therefore, Draco's delusions regarding imaginary friends and imaginary powers had to stop.

On the other hand, Severus wasn't really behind the Dark Lord's agenda anymore. Not only was Severus himself a half-blood, but so was Voldemort. Therefore, powerful beyond any wizard's dream as Voldemort was, his dogma lacked certain logic. Ever since Voldemort had done away with the better half of the Potter family, a hole in Severus' heart was not to be filled, and certainly not with a non-sensical doctrine.

He was, therefore, not quite of a set mind when it came to purging Draco of his delusions. For this reason, Severus was not quite as thorough as he would usually have been when hiding Draco's dragon companion. He had snuck the miniature from Draco's bed without anyone knowing (He was the Slytherin House master, after all. Even the older students were not sneakier than he.) When hiding it, however, he had been a little, let's say, distracted.

Meeting Aurora Sinistra on his way, while floating a disillusioned miniature dragon in front of him (how would it have looked if he had i carried /i something invisible around?), had made him a little nervous, especially when the attractive witch had tried to engage him in a conversation he didn't want. Finding a hiding place, therefore, had been cut short, his time run out before Draco was finished with his detention, and he had dashed into the nearest girl's bathroom, certain that Draco would never search there, and masked the dragon's presence with powerful charms.

It was short-sighted, he knew, to simply take this imaginary friend away from Draco. For all he knew, Draco could continue to pretend. That's what imaginary friends were all about. But unlike Narcissa, Severus very much believed in the power of ripping out short-comings like old plasters. The boy had to start somewhere, somewhen.

Draco was one morose boy. He had looked everywhere in the castle, but Fafnir was nowhere in sight. He had started with every dorm in Slytherin House, even the girls' dorms, then expanded his search to the entire dungeon, the kitchen area, the entire lower floors and up to the library floor.

He didn't bother instigating other House members to look in their dorms. He couldn't imagine that anybody but a Slytherin had taken Fafnir from him. Only Slytherins could get into Slytherin dormitories, and no Slytherin in his right mind would conspire with another House member to do a prank.

Ergo, a Slytherin had taken Fafnir and hidden him as well. Unless, it had been a teacher. Somehow, he couldn't imagine any teacher going to that length to take a (disillusioned) toy from a first-year student's bed. It didn't make sense.

What also didn't make sense was why Fafnir had disappeared altogether. Unless Fafnir was hiding himself, and Draco didn't put it past him. Still, Fafnir would never stay away so long as to make Draco really worried about not finding his friend again.

Fafnir had been taken, Draco was sure of it.

When he moved toward the Grand Staircase to go down and give the Great Hall another look, Granger came from the other side and went the same way.

"Hi, Draco, want to join us for a cup of tea?" she chirped.

Draco glowered at the exuberant, annoying girl. Witch, he corrected himself. Girl, his higher conscience smacked him over the brain. Alright, Girl, Draco admitted and deepened his scowl. "Heck, no, Granger. I'm trying to find my best friend, erm, hm, something very special to me. Somebody took it from my dorm, and now I'm wasting my precious time walking all over the castle trying to find it, and your interference is not helping. Leave me alone."

With that he turned and made his way down the staircase at a brisk pace, leaving the affronted Hermione behind. After a minute, when Draco had disappeared around a corner, she shook herself, ridding the last remains of the Repellent charm in the process, and said to the invisible hovering dragon next to her, "Well, I think i Mr /i Malfoy was very rude, don't you, my dragon? Yes, I think so, too. Let's go get that tea, shall we?"

When she reached the kitchen, the house-elves were only too happy to provide her with tea, and biscuits to boot, and Hermione proceeded to lift the Disillusionment of the magical miniature. Sighing happily, she stirred two sugars and a drop of milk into her infusion, missing the puzzled looks the house-elves threw each other regarding the miniature on top of their worktable.

"Misssss …," started one, only to be stopped by an older version with a stomp on its foot.

"Shhh," the older elf said. "We does not meddle in the humans' matters. Perhaps the Malfoy boy has given her his dragon. He seems to like her. Go, Shappy do the dishes."

The younger elf let his ears droop and trudged over to sink full of dishes, only too aware that he was going to miss all the fun.

Just when Hermione picked up one of the delicious biscuits to take a bite, the kitchen portal opened again, and Draco Malfoy came in, his head low and all energy gone out of him. Without looking up, he addressed the house-elves. "Elves, I have a request. A dragon miniature that was a dear gift to me was taken, and I wondered if you would help me locate it within the … Granger?"

Before he could say "castle", Draco had looked up when some of the house-elves had coughed abashedly and looked right at Granger with a biscuit and – Fafnir.

"Fafnir!" he exclaimed. "You found him, Granger! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank youthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou." He hugged Hermione tightly where she sat, then grabbed his dragon over the top of the table and turned to leave. He said a quick "Never mind" to the house-elves and left the kitchen as quickly as Devil's Snare faced with fire.

"Well," a dumbstruck Hermione said, to the kitchen in general and to the house-elves specifically, without expecting an answer. "Wasn't Mr Malfoy happy that he got his dragon back? I hope …"

She stopped when her gaze fell onto the platter. "Hey, who took all the biscuits?"

On the way back to the dorm, Draco berated his dragon. "What happened to the Mandibles of Death, you sissy serpent? Why didn't you eat her, hm? She's a Muggleborn. We despise Muggleborns."

Fafnir grinned back. "Doesn't apply to me. She liked my hide - and my flying skills. I was beguiled by her feminine charms. You're just jealous. Go soak your head…ooh, what a babe." He sighed happily.

"Oh, Uncle Severus. Can you imagine? Somebody took Fafnir away, but I got him back. Granger found him."

Coming around a corner, on his way back to his quarters, Severus Snape stumbled over Draco and his very obvious dragon miniature. The Potion Master grimaced; clearly, he hadn't considered that there would be clever girls who could break through his charm this quickly. His grimace didn't look unnatural at all since he usually had a reason to grimace at one dunderhead or another.

Draco went on. "I think somebody is out there, trying to take Fafnir away from me; perhaps to hold him for ransom. I searched the entire castle, and I found him with Granger. Whoever wants to separate us has to get up earlier than that. We are inseparable. A team. One day we'll rule the world, together. Good night, Uncle Severus. I'm going to bed."

Snape looked after him with a strange look on his face. "Yes, my boy, I also wish you could be 11 years old all your life, lost in your daydreams," he mumbled to himself.

Draco didn't go to bed. He snuck with Fafnir under his arm up to the Astronomy tower and spent a few more hours looking at the stars.

"When you look at the stars and imagine you're out there and look back on our world, you know it's just a tiny speck in the infinite reaches of space. You have to wonder about the mysteries of creation. Aren't we all part of a great design, no more or no less important than anything else in the universe, where everything else fits together and has a purpose, a reason for being?" Draco's tiny voice carried softly over the quiet night air.

Fafnir took the time to exhale an entire lung-full. "Yes, one would think so," he finally replied calmly.

"And if we have a purpose, what's this business of death? If we're just going to die, what's the point of living?"

"You heard about Hannah Abbott's mum, did you?"

Draco nodded. "She was a Muggle."

"Yes." Fafnir nodded, too.

"She had a purpose."

"Yes," Fafnir replied.

"So, what's the point of taking her back so soon?"

Fafnir looked at his human friend. "You tell me, Draco".

"She was a Muggle."

Fafnir nodded. "Yes, you said that."

"Is that reason enough?" Draco kept staring out into the night.

"Do you want to hear my opinion, Draco?" Fafnir asked after another contemplative pause.

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"I think it's either mean or arbitrary that somebody leaves early, and either way it gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Draco nodded his confirmation that he heard. "As long as you don't go anywhere."

Fafnir hugged his friend. "Don't worry. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Draco hugged him back fiercely. "Why do we have to have these talks in the dead of the night?" he asked when they'd taken their places again.

Fafnir chuckled. "Because then the distraction of the usual noise on your thoughts is gone."

"Noise?"

Fafnir shrugged. "Parents' induction, teachers' blabbering, friends' opinions – it's all silent and you can give room to what you really think."

Draco smiled. "You want to know what I really think?"

Fafnir grinned. "Sure."

"I think I want to be a millionaire when I grow up."

Fafnir chuckled again. "You'll have to work really hard if you want to do that."

Draco shook his head. "No, not me, my father."

Fafnir barked a laugh. "Excuse me?"

Draco smirked. "I just want to inherit it."

"Would that make you happy?" Fafnir asked with a smug smile.

"Sure," Draco replied with a shrug. "With money, you can buy power and fame, and that would make me happy. Isn't that what the Dark Lord does?"

Fafnir shook his head in amusement. "If you ask me, happiness cannot be bought."

Draco looked up at his draconian friend. "What would make you happy? If you could have anything you want?"

Fafnir stretched out against the battlement behind him and then flinched away from the touch of the cold stone. "A big sunny field to be in."

"A big sunny field? You can have that any boring day! Think big, think riches, power. Pretend you could have iany/ithing," Draco exclaimed.

Fafnir sat with a big, goofy grin on his face, entirely at peace with the world in the contemplation of his happiness.

Draco grumbled. "It's hard to argue with somebody who looks so satisfied. So, you mean using magic to increase your power is the wrong way to go?"

Fafnir sighed happily. "Entirely. More power means more responsibility, and I don't know anybody who could live up to it."

"Not the Dark Lord?"

"Especially not the Dark Lord!"

Draco harrumphed, but he couldn't help seeing what Fafnir meant.

"You know, I hate these talks under the vastness of the stars. All you can do is sit here and imagine what's going to go wrong during the day, being the powerless little speck you are," he said.

And then, they sat for a few long moments, watching the stars twinkle and shine.

"Fafnir?"

"Hm?"

"Are you ever going to get married?"

Fanfir contemplated for a moment. "Hm, if the right girl came along, I might." Looking off into the distance, he indulged in his fantasies. "Somebody with smooth scales and green eyes and a nice laugh, who I could call 'Softie paw'."

Draco was appalled. "Softie paw?"

"Or 'Bitsy Pookums'," Fafnir added with a big, dreamy grin.

"Yech, that affects my gag reflex a lot more than my feelings," Draco replied with a grimace.

Fafnir didn't pay him any mind. "'Bitsy Pookums', I'd say. 'Yes, Snoogy Woogy,' she'd reply …," he kept dreaming aloud, ignoring that his human friend's face was temporarily stuck on a setting that implied indecent puking if more words of this kind were spoken.

After another pause, during which Fafnir hummed happily, Draco spoke again.

"Granger is the smartest girl in school."

"Yes." Fafnir agreed.

"And she's a Muggleborn." Draco harrumphed again. "I'm never gonna get married. It's hopeless."

Fafnir chuckled quietly. "Draco, do you believe in God?"

"Well, somebody's out to get me, up there," Draco groused.

Fafnir laughed again. "You know, my friend, you have no common sense, that's your problem."

"I have plenty of common sense," Draco argued. "I just choose to ignore it."

The tinkling laughter of two friends united under the stars could be heard all the way to Gryffindor tower.

" … and Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy on the planet Mercury. That's all, class. Essays are due next week. Remember, no less than two rolls of parchment." Professor Sinistra clapped in her hands and released the class.

Draco sat stock still in his chair until the class had filed out.

Hermione built herself up in front of his desk. "Meet me in the library after the last class today," she said with a sneer.

When Draco didn't move a muscle, she waved her hand in front of his open and straight-staring eyes. "Hello, anybody home?"

Enervated by her movement in his personal space, Draco said morosely, "I can't believe we were assigned to do a project together."

Hermione huffed. "All I can say is you'd better do a great job. I don't want to flunk because I was assigned a conceited pureblood for a partner."

"Conceited pureblood? That's an oxymoron. We have natural poise, and we are entitled, that's all," Draco argued.

"Entitled for a kick in the butt if you don't do your part. I'll meet you in the library, capisce?" Hermione gave back.

"I don't take orders from Mudbloods." Draco sneered.

Hermione got in his face with her eyes narrowed to slits. "I don't care who you 'take orders from' like an idiot. You'll meet me in the library to research this project together, or Professor Sinistra will hear about this."

Then she turned so that Draco got a swish of her long hair (it smelled like strawberries, he noticed, and was softer than he expected) and goose-stepped out of the room.

He huffed, aggravated, and swore to himself he would boycott this project and drive Granger insane if it was the last thing he would do.

Draco was going for stupidity. He was certain it would drive Granger nuts.

"So, what do we have to do?"

Hermione breathed evenly in and out, to calm her nerves. "Weren't you even paying attention? We are supposed to be researching the planet Mercury and how its different orbital eccentricity affects the seasons on it differently than on Earth."

Draco folded his arms over his chest. "And what have we found out?" 'She is already trying to stay calm', he thought. 'It's working.'

"Nothing!" Granger replied fiercely. "Because I refuse to do the whole project alone!"

Draco sneered. "You'd probably goof it all up. You need pureblood management telling you what to do. Let's get started. You'll be the labourer. Go, get the books. You carry half the library around most of the time anyway."

Hermione jumped up in upset and yelled through the library, "Does anybody want to trade partners?"

Wrangled back in her seat, she was silenced by Madam Pince, who told her in no uncertain terms that, should she yell one more time, she would be excluded from the library for the rest of her school years, and that was only because she had such a good record so far; normally, Madam Pince had Mr. Filch take care of rule-breakers. Receiving pitying looks from her cohort, who wouldn't trade with her if their life depended on it, Hermione shook in anger, stood, packed her bag and left the library with the research materials, indicating for Draco to follow her. She led him all the way to the Room of Requirements, where a table with a lamp and two chairs materialized. She sat down.

"Why do you have to be so dead-set on making my life difficult?" she asked through clenched teeth when he sat across from her.

Draco lazily examined his fingernails – impeccable as usual, he decided. "Because you are a Muggleborn, and I am supremely superior as a pureblood. That's the way of life."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then took the opportunity by the horns. "Then how do you explain that I have better grades?"

He sneered. "Luck, and the fact that you are the teachers' pet."

She kept on. "I study hard. How could I be the teachers' pet when in "the way of the world's" opinion I'm so far beneath you? Seems that people beg to differ from that opinion."

He snorted. "Blood traitors or Muggle-lovers."

She smiled, on to something. "So, in your mind, the world exists in black and white, is that correct? You either believe in the superiority of purebloods or you don't, in which case you're wrong. What are the consequences for being wrong?"

"Um," Draco said. He didn't want to follow her arguments, she was a Muggleborn, she could never be right or even logical, but it was easy enough to follow. To this question, however, he didn't have an immediate answer. "Well, you are being snubbed by the people who count, excluded from good company."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "The punishment for not believing the way you do is to not be invited to your parties?" When he didn't reply, she said with a wicked smile, "You know what, I can live with that – very well, to be honest. I have my own friends."

Draco turned his sinister gaze on the witch in front of him. How dare she make fun of his value system? "The punishment for not believing as we do is death."

Hermione adjusted her face to the seriousness of his message. "I know, Malfoy. I heard the news about Hannah's mother. This seems to apply to everybody who doesn't fit into your 'scheme.'" She held his gaze with the equal intensity. If this had been a romantic situation, the air would likely have crackled.

"Tell me, Malfoy. Does this system only apply to outsiders? Or is it possible that insiders might also be affected?"

Draco held his breath. She couldn't know the pressure he was under. She couldn't know what was going to happen to his parents if he didn't fulfil his task. She couldn't know!

"What are you playing at?" he whispered spitefully.

She licked her lips. "I mean, Draco, that you don't look so good. There are dark circles under your eyes, and you look like you haven't slept through a night since the beginning of the school year."

He leaned closer, even though it wasn't necessary. "Fafnir growls at night. You know him. Do you think you would sleep well next to a fire-breathing, badly dreaming dragon?"

Granger leaned a little back, her eyes shining with mirth. "Fafnir, is it?"

Draco kept his posture and held her gaze. "Yes. He wakes me up, each and every night. It's no wonder I never look rested."

Granger looked a little smug, for some reason Draco couldn't identify. "And why, may I ask, do you not make him sleep somewhere else, where he cannot wake you up? In front of your bed, for example?"

Draco scoffed. "He's warm, and warmth is hard to come by in Slytherin territory. Besides, he's my best friend. Would you make your best friend sleep before your bed like a dog? By the way, that's too close to where the monsters are. I'm not going to feed my friend to monsters, no matter what you believe of me. Would you?"

Granger raised her eyebrows until they almost disappeared in her hairline. "Monsters?"

"Monsters," Draco confirmed. "Big, fat, slobbering, children-devouring monsters. Never had them under your bed, Granger?"

Granger shrugged but luckily decided not to look smug. "Sure, when I was four years old. However, at one point they disappeared."

"Yeah." Draco sneered. "Mine didn't. They are still there."

"Monsters." Granger held his gaze, but there was no ridicule. He could see how her brain waves churned, working, thinking up a solution.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Monsters."

"You know…," she finally spoke hesitantly, "… my monsters disappeared when I stopped believing in them. Stopped believing what they told me, about coming to them and getting the great toys. When I stopped believing what they promised me would come true. And you know, light shrivels them up. If you let 'more light' into your life, they may stop coming to you."

Draco nodded slowly. "They may. But consider what it would require from me. I know you don't like to ride brooms, but can you imagine what happens when you change direction in mid-flight?"

She shrugged. "I know Harry can do it. That's how he caught the snitch several times before you. And I know the sun changes direction on planet Mercury in the middle of the day."

Draco looked at the witch as if he'd seen her for the first time. A matter of perspective, was it?

"Will you help me, Granger?"

She shook her head. "No. You have to help yourself."

Smartest witch her age, his left foot.

In the midst of the hullabaloo in Malfoy Manor's drawing room, while pulling Hermione up from the floor, Draco screamed, "I've got her wand! I've got her wand! Run, Hermione, run!"

"Draco! Draco, come back here!"

"No! No, Father. I won't come back. I've made my decision. What did you say? To become a master, I have to be decisive, indomitable, and firm. I've made my decision, I won't be swayed from it and I'm firm: I will i not /i follow in your footsteps. I don't live on honey and fairy cakes, but I'll never like Kelpie pie. And the way of the world? What's expected of me? I'll tell you what's expected of me: to be happy. To spread happiness, to have a wife who loves me, and to further the well-being of everybody."

With a last look to his parents, he turned to follow Hermione out, while his Aunt Bellatrix lay choking on the carpet, and his mother, who was bent over her sister, cast him a surreptitious smile. As a parting shot, he proclaimed, "And that's what I'm going to do. You're welcome to share it with me, but only if you leave this lot behind. Aunt Bella, never a pleasure, I hope to never see you again. So long, folks."