A.N. Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long, I've been going back to edit what I have already written and try to add some moments in. I would love to hear what people thought for some guidance on future chapters!
Thank Merlin for pepperup potions. Draco downed a serving first before passing the jug to his two friends. With his newly un-muddled mind, Draco straightened his tie and set off for breakfast, Theo and Blaise following after they swallowed their medicine. The three Slytherins had been friends as long as any of the three could remember; Draco had known Theo since they were in diapers and Blaise since they were in training underpants. Theo and Blaise had never been his followers as Crabbe and Goyle had been, the former pair would call him on his bullshit, which was why the three were not often seen together in their early years when Draco was only looking for lackeys and the power they conveyed. The three complemented each other in ways their other classmates could not. Theo and Draco were standoffish, but Blaise schmoozed anyone who crossed his path. Draco and Blaise wooed any girl who crossed their paths for quick tryst while Theo preferred to pine from afar. Blaise and Theo preferred to lurk in the shadows, out of the public eye, but Draco always desired to stand in the spotlight.
When the trio first came to Hogwarts, Draco had desired fame apart from his father. On the platform, the blonde shunned his equals in favor of witless muscle named Crabbe and Goyle. His enforcers followed him up and down the train, helping him terrorize his fellow classmates, while Theo and Blaise lounged in a compartment alone, swapping sweets and trading gossip. Draco happened upon them, with Crabbe and Goyle at his back. He asked if they wanted to join him, the makings of a true gang. They laughed in his face, telling him that the fumes from his hair gel were clearly distorting his image of self-importance.
Eight first days later, the boys walked in step with one another through the silent hallways. This particular plan was Theo's brainchild. After watching his friend get heckled,at the Opening Feast no less, Theo thought it best to avoid large crowds, Gryffindors. Zabini and Draco quickly agreed. This is how the three found themselves descending the main staircase at six in the morning, a full hour and a half before breakfast formally began. The Grand Hall held only a smattering of Ravenclaws, a couple Hufflepuffs, McGonagall, Sprout and Sinistra without a single Slytherin or Gryffindor insight. Theo's plan was off to a good start as the three settled at the end of the eighth year table and tucked into their breakfast.
A single owl fluttered through the rafters, swooping down to drop a letter in Theo's lap and then another in Draco's. A reminder about their required nuptials. Draco huffed, all Theo's threatened was a delay in his access to his trust fund: pushed back from age twenty to age twenty-five if he hadn't married by his twentieth birthday. The ministry kindly included a list of eligible women for Draco to consider. Abbot, Hannah … Brown, Lavender… Granger, Hermione … Greengrass, Astoria … Parkinson, Pansy… Patil, Padma … Patil, Pavarti … Draco wrinkled his nose. Those on the list he could tolerate would never deign to associate with him. He had his work cut out for him.
Draco was intended for Daphne Greengrass as recently since their infancy. She was found dead in July on the edge of the Black Lake. She was lucky though, Fenrir Greyback had found her before her death. Had she not died, she would have certainly been transformed into a werewolf, a fate Draco knew she perceived as worse than death. Draco attended the funeral, supplied his condolences, and then looked to remove himself from the Greengrass sphere of influence.
The Greengrass prided itself for its position on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list and they would do anything to maintain it. Or anyone. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Rumor had it even brothers and sisters. Clinging to their blood and wealth, the Greengrass family would not survive the new world order. Draco had promised his mother before she went away that he would work to restore the Malfoy family name and to repent for the sins of his father. He could not do that with a Greengrass by his side, even one as malleable as Astoria.
She was too malleable, Draco realized. He wanted a partner, not a submissive. He wanted his wife to stand at his side. He wanted her to be his equal in every way. But that list was lacking. It gave him no viable options. There were choices if he could stomach a bigot. There were choices if he could tolerate a traditional pureblood wife: pretty and vapid. But there were no choices if Draco wanted an intelligent, strong woman to stand at his side, to help him redeem the Malfoy name, to begin a new dynasty with new traditions and a reputation for tolerance, and to do so willingly, not for his money or his name.
Draco raked his fingers down his face. His fortune would be gone and he would be alone.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
The sounds of Hogwarts woke Hermione for her first day of classes. She could hear the birds chirping as she flicked her wand to draw back the curtains. She could smell the breakfast wafting up from the Great Hall as she crossed to the bathroom. She could feel the magic tingling through the air, dancing across her skin as she stretched and looked in the golden-framed mirror. It looks like I waged a war in my sleep. Her hair stuck out in every direction, her eyes were red, but the skin underneath them were a deep blue. Thinking back to last night she resolved to never break like that again, not out of self-pity. I will not be a victim. I will not dwell on what I lost. I will think of the future I have gained a chance at. She had lost so much, some never to be regained, but she still had Harry and Ginny and Ron. And Mrs. And Mr. Weasley and George. She would be alright, she worked to convince herself.
Seven years ago, when Hermione had caught her reflection in a similar mirror in the first-year Gryffindor dorms, her eyes had twinkled with excitement for her first full day immersed in the wizarding world, her hair had seemed alive and electric. That was no longer the case; a year on the run had its consequences. Despite Molly Weasley's best attempts, Hermione was still much lighter than she had been this time last year. Her elbows protruded unnaturally away from her frame and her ribcage could still be seen under the skin of her stomach. Although today's outward appearance was particularly bad, the red eyes and the bags were a new regularity of her appearance. The dark shadows perpetually hung around her eyes and she had found not one, but three gray hairs last week. She could not fix the internal turmoil that caused most of these visual changes, but she had a trick or two up her sleeve to fix the physical. During her fourth year, just in time for the Yule Ball, she had had enough of the teasing and the taunting she endured because of her appearance and had searched the library to discover Madame Minnie's Most Necessary Appearance Enhancers. She used charms to puff up the skin under her eyes, to smooth her hair back into an easy ponytail, to brighten her skin just a little, so she didn't look like a zombie. She hoped it would be enough; she hated when people worry about her.
Tying a simple red ribbon around the base of her ponytail and then making quick work of the regulation uniform, Hermione set off for breakfast. She quietly closed the door to afford her roommates another moment or two of sleep. Hermione nearly hopped down the stairs trying to convince herself that she was happy and that the only emotion plaguing her mind was excitement for another first day of school. Her final last day of school. She reached the bottom of her staircase, hiked her bag over her shoulder and set off for the Grand Hall alone.
Hogwarts was just how she remembered, despite having hosted a tragedy only months before. Despite the sun slanting through the windows, casting overly long beams of light on the walls opposite, there was a perpetual draft through the corridors. The knights that had come alive to protect the castle that fateful night stood in their alcoves, waiting for another call to action. The castle seemed cooperative this morning as staircases waited for her before swinging to different locations and Peeves was nowhere to be seen. There was a quiet murmur coming from the Great Hall, only a few students awake to fill the hall. Being on the run had forced Hermione to be both a morning bird and a night owl, there was no reason that would stop simply because the war was over. That would have been too easy, to sleep.
Walking through the double doors, Hermione saw them before they saw her. The eighth-year table was empty, aside from the three Slytherins. She slowly crossed the hall to the table. Do I sit where I was last night and leave them alone? Or would that be rude, look like I'm avoiding them? I'm not avoiding them. I just don't particularly want to spend my morning meal with them. Talking to Malfoy last night wasn't terrible, but what about the others? They didn't stay, they had left. I should have waited for Fay, but waiting for Fay probably would have meant Lavender. Maybe I'll make plans with Neville…
"Promise we won't bite, love," Zabini drawled with his Italian accent, "Unless that's your thing." Zabini winked. Malfoy rolled his eyes, Nott let out a small chuckle. Hermione had managed to cross the hall while pondering her seating choices and was stupidly standing in front of the table, "Here." Zabini patted the seat beside him, "It would be an honor to sit next to one of the wizarding world's saviors." She hesitantly sunk onto the bench beside Zabini, still contemplating her choices. Do we chat? Do we eat in silence? Why didn't I wait for Neville?
"What are the plans for tryouts this weekend? Anyone promising?" Hermione couldn't tell who had spoken, no one had moved.
"Hope some halfway decent players show up and try to field a team." Draco didn't look up from the boiled egg he was trying to de-shell. They were speaking without moving a muscle. They look like they're sitting in silence and yet they're having a conversation.
"Draco," It was Blaise, his lips had twitched almost imperceptibly, "We're missing an entire team. We have the three of us. We need at least four more to field a team. Having a couple alternates, one for each position would be best, but we wouldn't want to get greedy." That's when it struck Hermione. The lack of Slytherins yesterday was because none of the sixth or seventh years had returned to school. Other students throughout the years were missing, but the bulk of the gap lay in the missing upper years.
"Because they were either locked up or someone they knew was locked up. Or they're dead." Malfoy finished her sentenced, "If you're going to disparage my house, please do so in your head rather than aloud." An awkward silence fell; Hermione hadn't realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Did that mean our truce is over?
"I – I'm sorry." She stuttered out, "I didn't mean to offend, I didn't even mean to speak. I just not-"
"It's fine, Granger." Malfoy bit, "You've done enough for the world to gain some leeway."
She was about to give them her speech about not wanting special treatment because of her role in the war. The speech she had perfected in declining those condescending job offers. Before she could begin, It was all by chance! Because I happened to be sorted into Gryffindor with Harry, Fay and Lavender arrived, Neville in tow.
"Sitting in the snake pit today, I like!" Fay plopped on to the seat next to Theo, Lavender beside her, and Neville into the one next to Hermione, "Fay Dunbar." She introduced herself to each boy in turn. Nott shook her hand with a warm smile. Malfoy accepted with a skeptical face. Blaise made some inappropriate comment about her reputation preceding her. "Hermione, you were so lucky to wake up early! Lavender barricaded herself in the bathroom again this morning." Fay flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, her glasses given way to contacts, "I marched her down to the Hospital Wing myself. Something is clearly wrong and I will not be inconvenienced by a roommate vomiting every chance she gets." Hermione, having lived with Fay for our entire time at Hogwarts chucked at the girl's sarcasm before returning to her meal in silence. The boys, on the other hand, looked nonplussed.
"Hey, Longbottom?" Hermione's eyes shot up. Theo was looking at the boy in question. She didn't know his voice well enough to confirm it was he who had spoken until he continues, "I heard your right good at Herbology." Neville cautiously nodded. Hermione prepared for the biting attack she knew would come. Nott might have been quiet throughout school, but he was still a Slytherin and Neville was, well, Neville. "Mind giving me a hand this year? I somehow ended up in the N.E.W.T. level and I'm woefully unprepared." Neville blubbered out an affirmative answer, and Hermione's jaw fell, "Thanks, man, I'll owe you."
Hermione leaned back on her bench. Not only was Nott asking for help, but he seemed genuinely thankful for it. This was the closest Hermione had ever been to the three Slytherins without her brain whirring for another insult or witty comeback. Malfoy was athletically built with muscular features. His pointed features were muted by his now messy hair. If Hermione hadn't known better she would've thought he had styled it after Harry's, just a tad less shaggy. Over the past few years, his demeanor had gone from smug to lost to something else entirely. Perhaps a quiet confidence? Zabini was built very similarly to Malfoy with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He was as dark as Malfoy was light. The pair seemed comfortable in each other's company, poking fun at Nott's need for help. Though none of the punchlines were directed at Neville, much to Hermione's surprise. Nott looked nothing like his friends. He was soft where the others were sharp, although he was still slender. Nott had mousy, brown hair and light brown eyes. Hermione couldn't help equate him to a child's teddy bear.
The hall quickly filled following Fay, Lavender and Neville's arrival. At seven thirty sharp, a swarm of owls descended on the hall. Most of these owls perched with first years, some drifting to older students. Hermione herself received her copy of the Daily Prophet. Just as she was about to open the paper, Oliver Wood, now Professor Wood, reached the eighth-year table.
"Neville, if you're only taking these three classes I expect great things." Wood chided, handing the boy his question, "And Lavender, please try to apply yourself across the board rather than just in divination. I understand you're only returning for that one class, but you are required to enroll in at least three. Fay, no complaints for you. Hermione," He paused looking at her schedule again, "Are you sure about this? Surely last year proved beyond doubt that you're a very capable witch and that you don't need to take eleven N.E.W.T.S?"
"I don't need to do it, but I want to. Learning on the run leads to deficiencies that could prove vital at some point." She sat up straighter, aware the Slytherins around her were watching her with calculated expressions.
"Yes, I'm sure turning a tea cup into a rat will be essential to your daily life." Wood quipped before he handed the scowling Head Girl her ambitious schedule, "Just, if it gets to be too much, please reach out to me sooner rather than later." She promised and Wood left for the main Gryffindor table.
Left to examine her schedule in peace, Hermione couldn't have been happier with what she saw. A full schedule greeted her, stretching from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. Not to mention the weekly astronomy lessons Tuesday at midnight. She had decided as soon as she was presented with the opportunity that if she was returning to Hogwarts, she was going to do it right. Hermione enrolled in as many N.E.W.T. subjects as the schedule could hold without a time turner, neglecting only Divination. Part of her was thrilled Harry and Ron hadn't returned to Hogwarts, now she could focus on excelling on her own education rather than helping them tread water.
"Mister Malfoy!" Slughorn cheered, "Mister Nott, Mister Zabini. I hope you've all had wonderful summers! Yes, can't wait to see you boys, you men, represent Slytherin in the Quidditch cup! If you need any help with tryouts this weekend please let me know."
"Thank you, Professor." Malfoy drawled, "There is something I mean to speak with you about regarding tryouts. May I speak with you tonight after dinner? Perhaps around eight?"
"Yes! Of course, Mr. Team Captain. Or would you prefer Mr. Head Boy? My, my, your mother would be proud of you!" Slughorn beamed. Hermione couldn't help notice the professor's skirting of Malfoy's father, "On that note! Here is your schedule. All twelve N.E.W.T.S! Very ambitious! Perhaps put off this meeting until later in the week when you are better adjusted?"
"Professor, if it is all the same to you, I promised someone we would have the conversation tonight. If I was to renege on that promise she would never forgive me." Malfoy spoke humbly.
"Oh!" Slughorn squeaked. "Well we wouldn't want to disappoint your lady friend with your deadline so near! Tonight then!" Malfoy balked, "Would you and your lady like to simply have dinner with me in my office? It would save time!" Malfoy agreed, if only to hurry the stout professor on his way.
Much to everyone's pleasure, Malfoy's curt nod did the trick: Slughorn handed the other two boys their schedules and hurried away. It was Zabini who spoke first, interrupting the sought-after silence. "Lady friend. Please do tell, Draco! Who is this lady friend?" His tone was taunting, Hermione knew she was missing something. He was taking twelve N.E.W.T.S?
"Lucy?" Nott questioned. Draco nodded, "She's too small to fill any of the positions we need. Maybe a reserve, but she won't see playing time until next year at best." Draco shrugged, "And really Draco? Twelve N.E.W.T.S? You barely survived eleven sixth and seventh years. How'd you just pick one up?"
"I had other worries in the past." Draco rolled his eyes as he folded his schedule to fit into his robe pocket, "And as for the eleventh class, it was something I could no longer put off." His eyes flickered to Hermione and she was certain they were both thinking the same thing: muggle studies.
"Still, mate." Blaise reproached, "Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Gentleman Friend of Miss Lucy, Twelve N.E.W.T.S?" He scoffed, "You might have to try!"
"I always try, you imbecile." Malfoy smugly smirked, "Whether it's my hardest has yet to be seen." His eyes flicked up, meeting Hermione's. She wanted to look away, really, she did, but something held her in place. Twelve N.E.W.T.s? His eyes seemed to twinkle, the blueish flecks catching the light, perhaps. He was taunting her. She never backed down from a challenge. His usually slicked back hair fell casually, as it had during their sixth year, when he had been too busy with otheractivities to worry about the state of his hair. This hair was blonder, less platinum, less like his father's. His features were delicate and at the same time they were masculine. His nose and chin were pointed, aristocratic, but they were accompanied by a strong jaw line with a light dusting a stubble, showing his transition from boyhood to manhood. His shoulders were broad, and his muscles rippled ever so slightly when he moved. Hermione found her eyes drawn to his left forearm where she knew it was. She had heard the mark faded after Voldemort's defeat, but was it still there? Like her own? "And I would appreciate it if you could stop insinuating there is more to Lucy and me than what there is. She's eleven-years-old for Merlin's sake."
As if on cue, a little bundle of energy bounded up to the eighth-year table. Hermione recognized her from the sorting: she was the only girl sorted into Slytherin. She had not been given a last name, but it fell somewhere between Brott and Fisher. Why hadn't she been given a last name? Lucille. Lucy as Malfoy had called her. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with excitement and she clutched a large tome to her chest. Hogwarts a History: 1998 edition. Hermione couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. Aside from the different coloring, Lucille reminded Hermione of herself as a first year. Hermione's noise had pulled Lucy's attention to her, "You have a ribbon in your hair just like mine!" Lucy exclaimed, pointing to the emerald green ribbon holding her hair in a high pony tail, "My name is Lucille! What's yours?"
Hermione caught Malfoy tense. The arm he had resting on the young girls him pulled her a bit closer to him as Hermione gave her name. Lucy gave out a dejected oh before she asked Draco to show her where the transfiguration classrooms were.
"That girl has him wrapped around her finger." Blaise chortled, watching his friend carry the little girl's bag out of the hall, with her skipping beside him.
"Blaise, their mothers both asked him to keep an eye on her in light of recent events." Nott scolded silently, Hermione knew she was not supposed to hear.
"Either way," Zabini shrugged, speaking at normal volume, "It's a pity she isn't older, or Draco doesn't have more time. She'd be an excellent wife and an easy solution to his problems. They've been family friends for decades." Hermione wrinkled her nose, what problem could justify marrying off an eleven-year-old?
"Blaise, you know her family's – station – is less than desirable for the Malfoy family." Nott reminded.
Hermione did not hear Zabini's reply as she was already storming off to her potions class. Less than desirable. The girl was a Slytherin, so she must be at least a half-blood. Hermione could only imagine what her own dirty blood would be considered by Malfoy and his friends. She had hoped Malfoy had turned over a new leaf over the summer; he had been rather civil to her in their interactions thus far and did not seem to harbor any animosity towards her. But clearly his blood supremacist views were still intact. If the horrors of war hadn't changed Malfoy's views nothing would.
The Head Girl settled into a bench at the front of the classroom, making cheerful conversation with Professor Slughorn until the rest of the class arrived. There were nine students in the class. Hermione sat beside Fay as they were the only two Gryffindors and Hermione knew Fay to be an adequate potions brewer. Hannah Abbot sat at the table behind the Gryffindors with Michael Corner. Terry Boot and Michael Goldstein waited in the bench beside Hermione's. The three Slytherins arrived just in time for the start of class and set up in the very back row, Malfoy at his own table.
Potions would be a breeze this year, Hermione was sure. Hermione had survived five years of Professor Snape's teaching. Compared to the greasy haired teacher, Slughorn would barely scratch the surface. Not to mention, Hermione had brewed most of the potions Slughorn had listed, if not more difficult variations, in the past year to prepare for their horcrux hunt.
"Granger?" A voice called from behind her as she forced her textbook back into her bag, "You coming to Transfiguration?" Theo Nott was asking. Malfoy stood beside the door kicking his boots at the ground and Zabini picked at a stray thread on his tie. Hermione nodded, "Come along then." Hermione crossed the divide between herself and the Slytherins, "Draco, don't be impolite, take the lady's bag."
Draco's head snapped up, shooting a glare at his friend. He took two steps to Hermione and gently lifted her messenger bag from her shoulder, his fingers lightly grazing her collar bone. His forehead wrinkled as he bounced the bag up and down before slinging it over his shoulder, "A featherlight charm?" He asked, apparently bemused. Theo and Blaise were rough housing their way through the halls ahead of them, reminding Hermione painfully of the Weasley twins.
"And an undetectable expansion charm." Hermione tried to sound offhand. She was still upset about his thinking Lucy to be below his status, "Quite simple really, for anyone with any skill that is."
"Of course." Draco nodded. An awkward pause followed and Draco readjusted his own bag, "Anyway, would you like to meet tonight to discuss prefect rounds? After dinner? Seven?"
"I'm sure we'll have quite a bit of work to do by then. I'll be in the library if you care to join." Hermione poked bluntly and sped her walk to join the more amiable Slytherins.
xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox - xoxox - (()) - xoxox
Hermione threw her hands into the air, startling the redhead slouched in the chair beside her own. History of Magic had been horrendous today. Apparently, Professor Binns had decided to make his N.E.W.T.S. class more current. As such, their first unit in the curriculum was the second wizarding war and the rise and fall of the dark lord. Binns insisted it was best to learn while fresh in their memories, Blaise griped that it was a way to pick their brains, Hermione's in particular, to make sure Binns's new book had the best narrative the entire way back to the eighth-year common room.
Exasperated by Lavender's breathless rambling about her first day of school in the common room, Hermione had retreated to the library with her overflowing bag, soon to be joined by Ginny Weasley. Ginny and Hermione had spent most of the summer together, especially when Ron forgot plans he had made with his girlfriend and ended up in the bar instead. Hermione had neverminded being forgotten, though. She would spend the night with Ginny, and in the morning – early afternoon, more realistically – Ron would return with flowers to apologize. She would follow him up to his room, allowing him to collapse onto his bed and curling up between his sprawled limbs. She would lay awake while he snored loudly, his inflated prick poking into her rear.
Ginny's eyebrows rose at Hermione's uncharacteristic display of emotion in her precious library. Hermione explained the new History of Magic curriculum to her oldest girl friend who quickly validated her outrage. "Does Binns have the slightest clue what P.T.S.D. is? There is no way McGonagall knows about this! If she did, Binns would be out on his arse! Hermione, we all lost people during this war and none of us are ready to study it unless in the presence of a psychiatrist."
Hermione chuckled ruefully and unrolled her parchment a bit further, "Binns says if it ever becomes too much for us we should just tell him and report to the hospital wing for counseling services McGonagall mentioned during the Opening Feast. He says it will be a service to us. Plus there are only six of us in the class and only Malfoy and I have a direct connection to today's subject."
"Which was?" Ginny leaned back in her chair, tipping back so the front legs came off the ground and crossing her arms.
"The pursuit of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's horcruxes and the role of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." Hermione read off her notes from class.
Ginny was off her chair and out of the library before Hermione could utter another word. Harry had always been the ringleader, charging into danger without a second's thought. Ron was the comedic relief and the only one with a magical childhood and the information that entails. Hermione kept the other two from making too big of a mess, insisting on research and planning and doing her best to prevent Harry's foolhardy plan-less actions. Their roles were well documented in the papers and apparently now in textbooks. What no one seemed to realize was Ginny, along with Neville and Luna, had played quiet the role in fighting the war. Ginny operated outside the immediate bubble of the Golden Trio as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been done and in doing so she served as the perfect support. Ginny was always there to help Hermione knock some sense into the boys or to remind Hermione when she was expecting too much from them. Ginny was the protector, always jumping to defend Hermione when girls were mean in the dormitories, Harry when people doubted his truthfulness, and even Ron when Slytherins tormented him. Hermione guessed the fiery redhead was already halfway to Professor McGonagall's office.
"What got Red's panties in a twist?" A drawl startled Hermione out of her thoughts. Draco Malfoy settled himself into the seat across from her.
"She's upset about Professor Binns's choice of material for the first day." Hermione dipped her quill into her ink. Malfoy's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he nodded without further comment, "Well, here is a schedule I created for rounds. It's a bit more intense than past years since we have fewer prefects," because Slytherin has only two. Hermione waited a moment before speaking again, "I was looking for your input before I talked to Headmistress McGonagall about it." He arched an eyebrow to indicate he was listening while he continued to scan her schedule, "Slytherin needs prefects, it only has two and is missing six. Perhaps we could enlist Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini? Maybe some of the younger students?"
Malfoy snorted in a very un-Malfoy-like snort, "Theodore Nott? I don't think anyone calls him that except his father when he's cross. Call him Theo. And Blaise, Blaise. Anyway, their immature schoolboys despite their age, you'd be better doubling up on fifth years and recruiting some fourth years." Hermione blinked at his insulting his friends. Apparently pure blood and friendship wasn't enough to save anyone from Malfoy's wrath. "Maybe Astoria Greengrass and Malcolm Baddock. They're fifth years; Tori repeated a year so she wouldn't be alone in her year. Maybe Niles Hanley and Sylvia Melville." Hermione scoffed, "What? They are the top of their classes and I'm sure Slughorn would have recommended them anyway."
"Nothing. I don't know why it surprised me that they're all purebloods."
Draco thought for a moment, "I'm fairly certain Niles is a half-blood and I know for a fact Malcom is a muggle-born. Why would you assume they were all purebloods?" Hermione recounted Theo's comment earlier that morning and Malfoy nodded along. When she finished, he gave her a condescending smile and laughed lightly, "Granger, dear, he didn't mean their 'station' was below mine because of her blood. Lulu is a pureblooded witch from a very powerful and connected family. Theo meant," Malfoy quieted he voice, "Well, he meant, that that power and those connections were unsavory. Her father was one of the inner circle." Draco didn't need to say of Voldemort's for her to understand.
"And you need her to marry you because?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow.
"It's a very long story, Granger." Malfoy seemed to age before her eyes.
"Well, I plan on being here for a very long time, so we have time." Hermione made a show of settling into her seat.
Malfoy appraised the girl across from him. He had had a fascination with Granger from the first time they had met. She was intelligent and kind and loyal. How many times had he insulted her and her friends and yet she sat there being more-or-less civil to him. He dove into a story of some vindictive Malfoy ancestor, who had been rejected by Elizabeth I, enforcing his disappointments in himself on his progeny. Hermione was too busy trying to deduce to which Death Eater Lucy belonged. Carrow…Crabbe…Dolohov… Those were all she could think of, though she was certain there were more.
"So basically, I have nine months to find a woman willing to be my wife and another year after that to marry her." Draco pressed his fist against his forehead as Hermione had notice him do in classes that day when something stumped him.
She felt the urge to comfort her old enemy and spoke softly, "You have nine months! That's long enough to create a human being!" She tried to sound uplifting, "Just put the feelers out in that pureblood world of yours. I'm sure socialites will be tearing down the doors to get to you!"
Draco rolled his eyes, "Granger, if I wanted some mindless cow to sing my praises I would have proposed to the Brown girl you're lucky enough to share a dormitory with. I'll have you know I'd like a little more out of the woman I'm required to spend my life with and who will bear my children." Hermione laughed at his cheap dig into Lavender, she had always been one of Hermione's least favorite people.
"Whenever I'm trying to make a big decision, I like to make a list." Draco was astounded with how well she was taking this pureblood marriage contract nonsense, especially considering her reaction to the potential of a marriage proposal from the Weasel, "So let's think. What are qualities you want in a wife?" Draco sputtered at Hermione's question, "Alright, I'll start. I imagine you want her to be pretty. And a pureblood. And probably from a wealthy or connected family."
His eyebrow climbed his forehead, casting a skeptical gaze on Hermione, "Is that what you think of me? That I want my companion to be pretty, pureblooded and wealthy?"
"You've never given me any reason to think otherwise." Hermione rose a defiant eyebrow.
"Granger, don't most people hope their spouses are at least a bit attractive? And we've seen where that pureblood supremacy got us last time around, so I will happily nix that from your list for me." He stood to leave, "And Granger, I'm already the fifth wealthiest man in Wizarding England with my personal accounts that my parents regularly deposited into throughout my life. Wealth is not a consideration of mine when picking a wife." And he was gone, leaving her alone with Ginny's and her things.
A.N. What did you guys think of all the personalities? I'm trying to stay as close to the books while also accounting for the horrors of war. And thoughts on Hermione and Draco's interactions? Too combative, not enough? Let me know!