Draco really didn't care to return to Hogwarts, after all, both his family name and House had been disgraced during the Battle of Hogwarts, and he was the poster child for both.
Now that he was in Hogwarts, he cursed himself for listening to something as fleeting as a whim.
He knew the hope of a relatively quiet return was ambitious, if not outright impossible, but he had not prepared himself fully for the fury that engulfed him at the words thrown around carelessly about him.
The burning questions surrounded him like fog on a London evening, and he bore it painfully, urging himself to think of his family's name as he fought to keep his composure.
"Is it true that the Malfoys sacrificed Dumbledore to bring You-Know-Who back to full power?"
"Malfoy, Head Boy? Of course… that vermin family has money tunnelled away to who knows where …"
The whispered conversations were as loud as if they had been said straight to his face. Draco burned beneath the surface, silver eyes igniting with fury under his thick lashes.
It was a good thing Blaise had managed to smuggle him some Sleeping Draught on the train. Despite the heaviness that lingered on his consciousness, he fought to remain composed.
"Can't believe he's got the audacity to come back. What I wouldn't do to get a crack at him or his horrible family…"
"… walked right over to his Beloved Dark Lord's side as soon as he could—"
Draco focussed desperately on the thoughts of his family and what could happen should his heritage be revealed. No one must know.
It would sure as hell be suspicious if he sprouted wings and lunged at people for talking to him on the other end of the hall on the first day back to school. He knew the professors were wary of him and wasn't keen on inviting any more disciplinary action than they were itching to give him.
"— rumour's that Malfoy's are completely broke, destitute even. My dad's said they might end up selling the Manor…"
"… just like the House of Black, raving mad and completely unstable. Not even their fellow Death Eaters will speak to them…"
Thinking back to his father's demands that he keep a low profile this year, he grit his teeth. His main purposes this year was to try to stay alive and to normalize the Malfoy name again. This did not include petty, low-class brawls with Sixth Years.
"They're an absolutely mad lot, those Malfoy's, thank Merlin they're on their way out …"
"… my sister says the Minister took away almost all their money, I bet Malfoy won't be able to afford his books this year…"
Draco raised a hand to his parched lips, pressing to remind himself not to use an Unforgivable Curse right then and there. To suggest that the family fortune had been drained by the Ministry of all establishments was almost a worse offence than the time Granger slapped him.
Hermione Granger.
For some strange reason, the thought cleared his mind. He wondered if she had returned. He had read articles about her unknown whereabouts for the past couple of months, while Potter and Weasley made their career choices evident with their announcements and parties.
Raising his eyes for the first time since he had gotten there, he looked over the sea of uniforms. The papers had publicized the Golden-Boy and the Weasel's new attempts at a career, but hadn't mentioned any advancements in her life.
An unwelcome smile jerked his lips upward as he thought of the witch hexing away reporters.
"… good riddance, that family should be locked in Azkaban together... horrific lot, I wouldn't be surprised if Draco Malfoy was the last of them all…"
"… heard in good confidence that they're all going to be executed, but if not, their money won't last them forever and their good old pureblood backup marriages for money are ruined... on account of them being war criminals, of course …"
He wondered if she had even spent the summer in Europe.
His lips twisted into an unpleasant snarl as he was jerked out of the numbness of the Sleeping Draught at the memories that invaded his mind.
He remembered tracing her parent's location to Australia at his aunt's behest, before deciding to turn away at the last minute. It had been at the height of the war, when her bloodlust was at an all-time-high.
Luckily for him, his training in both giving and withstanding torture came from Bellatrix, and it had proven to be another usual weekend night for him, coughing up blood on the same floor in Malfoy Manor that he had once hosted masquerade balls in.
He thought back to that night at the Manor, when he had lied about Potter's identity, when he had the limits of his Occumlency tested by Bellatrix and Voldemort himself. He had passed, not without suspicion, but it didn't save her from being tortured.
Surprisingly, his memories of the night were vivid, and he could remember the smell of the blood through the air. Draco wondered if Hermione hated him for it.
It shouldn't matter. The entire wizarding world hated him.
"They're just as bad as Bellatrix, if not worse, at least she was openly insane, who knows what they're really like behind closed doors…"
"Who knows what those Slytherins are hiding, I've heard Voldemort only trusted them… bet they've got hundreds more secrets."
Distantly, Draco remembered scrying into Granger's family's new home in Australia.
They seemed happy, and he could tell she was a skilled Obliviator. Her father had her unruly curls and her mother had her dark eyes. He recalled watching and getting lost in the realization that despite the tragedy that was sweeping the Magical World, there were people still thriving, with their parents, unbound by time-old magic, and untainted by blood obligations.
For the first time in his life, he wished to have been a Muggle. The memory of the thought jarred him and he jerked back, face paling at the moment of weakness.
"… disgusting that they've bought their way out again, but then again even a headless cockroach will die eventually, we'll just have to wait…"
"Absolutely disgusting family...Tyrants, the lot of them. Lucius is going to get what's coming for him and Narcissa's next."
At the sound of his mother's name, he bristled. His mother had never done anything wrong. It hadn't been her fault that the Veela pull had destined her to be with someone who was willing to go so far in the name of personal glory. He felt his body temperature spike, his upper lip raising in-between a snarl and a sneer.
"Aurors found thousands of Dark Arts Artifacts in Malfoy raids, but who's surprised…"
"Oh, you haven't heard what they found at Malfoy Manor? Tons of dark blood magic, huge mass grave …"
If he were to be honest with himself, it had become harder and harder to keep up the cold facade of the Malfoy name. As his blood turned inside of him, he found that with each passing day, he felt the burning desire to let his anger loose and have his way, no matter what stood in his path.
Blaise ignored his brooding friend, cheerfully chatting up a visiting former-Hogwarts student, as they walked from the Great Hall. Her name was Cara Bianchi, a sharp-eyed professional, and she would have been an Eighth Year Slytherin as well, had she not opted to enter the private sector so quickly.
"It really is a shame!" Blaise grinned toothily. "There have barely been any Eighth Year's in our House."
"I wonder why," Cara remarked drily, dark eyes trained down the hall.
From what they could tell, she was in Hogwarts to ambush one of the poor professors-in-training in regards to a very secretive topic. Secretive enough to withstand the Zabini charm. She had only divulged that it was in regards to a highly unknown topic of Magical research in the Ministry. That was enough to make the both of them lose interest.
Draco huffed, rolling his eyes, his grey bags seeming to drag down his face in the castle's candlelight.
"Hey, if you're going to be in anytime soon, just come by the Slytherin dorms anytime you want and ask for me." Blaise winked as he watched her strain her neck. Suddenly, she caught sight of a new and relatively young professor with blue and bronze charmed braids, laughing and leaving the Dining Hall with Professor Flitwick.
"It's been a pleasure." Cara roughly shook his hand and all but sprinted after her.
"Great, another biased professor. Just what I need this year." Draco sneered in distain as he watched the charmed braids on the new professor's head rearrange themselves in various up-does. Blaise snickered and muttered an agreement about their doomed final marks.
For a moment, all that was heard were their dress shoes, sharply clicking against the stone floor.
—
The Welcoming Feast had been a spacious event, many of the tables rearranged to attempt to make the absence of the fallen less obvious.
It hadn't worked. The vast Hall appeared all the more hollow, and it was clear that many of the students were still reminiscing on the memories of last year.
Hermione sighed.
The amount of House squabbles she had to break apart on the way back to the Head of House lodgings was more than she bothered to count. The animosity between Houses, particularly towar ds Slytherin, had heightened considerably. Even the Prefects were incredibly biased.
A deep frown found its way on her face when she remembered the confusion on everyone's faces when she had stepped in. How they had tried to justify their bullying, taunting, even the physical aggression that they had displayed.
She had felt like hexing the lot of them. When the first years were sorted, there were open boos and insults thrown to the new Slytherins. McGonagall had to step in to remind everyone to be civil.
It disgusted her. The entire war and its efforts seemed to be fading away quickly. In place of blood mania, there appeared to be a new crazed bias arising. People didn't seem to understand the choice of victim did not matter, Hermione clenched her fists in anger.
The principle was what was important. Prejudices were not to be tolerated.
Her head felt cloudy and irritable.
Perhaps it was the strain from Apparating several times, to the Hogwarts Express. As advanced as she was, she didn't know any wizards or witches who could Apparate from one side of the world to the other. Blaming her snappiness on her magical version of jet-lag, she excused herself quickly from a gaggle of Fifth Years who were quizzing her on Harry Potter.
The same strange feeling kept resurfacing, over and over again, but everytime she tried to focus and pinpoint it, it would submerge again.
She spotted a familiar head of red hair in the crowd, the flaming tresses separated into two braids.
"Ginny!"
"Hermione!"
Ginny turned and froze, lips parted at the sight of her friend. Her friends moved on when she waved them forward, carrying down the Hall to the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Where were you? I didn't see you at the Welcoming Feast."
Hermione took in the welcome sight of her friend. She was paler than usual, not surprising with the stressful events that had occurred since the end of the war. Ginny looked impossibly happy, a sign that her relationship with Harry was only getting better since he had returned and been able to set up permanent residence.
"Arrived late. My mom tried to convince me not to come." Ginny shrugged. "You know how she is."
Hermione pursed her lips. She had wondered how Molly Weasley would react to Ginny wanting to return to Hogwarts, especially after Fred's death on the grounds.
"Either way, I had to get some orders from McGonagall."
Smiling, Ginny flashed her Prefect badge. Gasping in delight, Hermione hugged the younger witch fiercely.
"I'm so proud of you!" Hermione squeezed. "I knew you'd get it."
"I wanted to tell you earlier, but I saw you yelling at some Fifth Years and thought it would be best to wait."
"Don't get me started on the ridiculousness that is in these kids heads. I knew this was going to be a difficult role, but I didn't think I would be thinking of resigning on the first day." Hermione groaned in frustration. "What makes it worse is that the Head Boy hasn't bothered with helping. I don't even know if he's here. So many of the Eight Years hadn't bothered to show up. I'm so glad you made it. It's a shame we won't have any classes together. But at least we'll have Prefect meetings together. After all, I am in charge of you."
Ginny playfully rolled her eyes as Hermione laughed.
"Mum was so happy, this was one of the only reasons she was okay with me coming. That, and Harry would be dropping by every month to check on me— us." Ginny blushed. "She really misses you, Hermione. We all do."
"Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't get a chance to come by the Burrow."
"It's alright, we understand. How are your parents? How was Australia?"
"It was really, really... just so good! I missed them a lot. I can't believe the last time I slept at home was over a year ago!" The traces of guilt that had seeped into Hermione's features were gone as pleasant memories flooded my mind. "We went out a lot, I honestly don't remember the last time I spent so much time outside with my parents. When I was younger, I was so preoccupied with books."
"It sounds so fun! And good thing you were such a smart kid, without you, I bet Voldemort would still be in power. Merlin knows Harry and Ron couldn't have gotten past first year without you." Ginny laughed warmly, admiration in her eyes. "And you look amazing! Your hair is ... so pretty! Looks like silk. And you're so tanned! Are those freckles I see? Becoming a Weasley from proximity alone, huh?"
"My mum finally forced me to go out and to some beauty shops with her. Of course, magic creams and gels work much faster than the Muggle way of getting ready and looking presentable, but it was a good introduction. I wish I spent some more time learning about cosmetic charms earlier."
"Well, the rest of us witches are lucky you didn't!" Ginny marvelled at her. Her uniform was perfectly tailored, no longer sloppy as it had been in earlier years, her hair was shining under the light of the castle halls, and her nails were neatly manicured. "Hermione, you've really got to teach me how to get my shite together!"
"Of course, Ginny, you're a Prefect now. We must lead by example." Hermione giggled, mimicking McGonagall's letter that she was sure Ginny received as well.
"You'd think battling Death Eaters would be enough of an example." Ginny rolled her eyes. "I can't believe she needed to remind us of decorum."
Giggling to themselves, the two girls parted ways, Hermione to her quarters, and Ginny to the dormitories.
