A/N – A thousand thank yous for the feedback and wonderful words at the end of last chapter! We are coming up on my absolute favorite chapters of the entire story and I hope you love them too! The next update is on 06/07 and is titled The Slytherin Healers.

September-October

Year 7

Draco Malfoy had grown up surrounded by luxury. The Manor's grandness included a ballroom that dwarfed entire mansions; it boasted dozens of bedrooms, multiple libraries, kitchens, and dining spaces.

In short, Draco was difficult to impress.

However, his first day at Hogwarts, he was completely enchanted by the castle, which seemed to breathe life into the air around it, humming with magic. In comparison, the Manor seemed cold and uninviting, even with its ornate décor and thriving gardens. Though they were both made of stone, Hogwarts felt different than the Manor—Hogwarts felt alive.

It was the first memory that flashed through Draco's mind as he entered the castle for the first day of his seventh year. An icy chill brushed down his spine at the change in the air, the space heavy with the palpable feeling of dread. The students who walked alongside Draco, Theo, and Blaise were eerily silent, marching towards the castle with solemn faces and fearful eyes.

Down the corridor, the walls were plastered with signs, reminiscent of Umbridge's Decrees. Since he was trying not to stare, he only caught glimpses of words as they walked to the Great Hall.

Muggleborn Registration

Reward for Information on Undesirables

A History of Mudbloods and Stolen Magic

The Dark Lord's Destiny, Divination for Believers

Draco's stomach turned as he focused on moving one foot in front of the other. During previous years, the halls had been filled with conversation and enthusiasm, but today there was nothing except the ominous sound of footsteps and hushed whispers.

On the train ride to Hogwarts, Death Eaters had stormed the Hogwarts Express and tore apart each compartment in search of Harry. Word quickly spread through the train that the Chosen One was not coming back to Hogwarts this year, and that blanketed the students with terror. It had been difficult for Draco to regain the attention of the Prefects in the carriage for their meeting.

For the entire train ride, the Head Girl had been mysteriously absent and it was up to Draco to prepare the Prefects for first year tours and introductions. Following the meeting, he encouraged the Prefects to break protocol and go to the nearby carriages to comfort the younger students who had been shaken by their encounter with the Death Eaters.

After the interrogations on the train, the entire mood shifted, all of the usual joy disappearing. Within Hogwarts, the feeling of magic was drained, replaced with a sense of foreboding that itched at his skin.

Hogwarts felt lifeless.

Clusters of students filed into the Great Hall and there were visible gaps at each table, save Slytherin. With the decree from the Dark Lord to reopen Hogwarts, Muggleborns went into hiding with their families. It was not safe for them to return to school while it was under the control of the Death Eaters. Half-bloods were begrudgingly allowed, given that they could provide proof of their magical parentage.

Draco scraped his eyes away from the space at the Gryffindor table that he spent the first few years of Hogwarts memorising. The place that Hermione usually sat, situated between Ron and Harry, was empty. Tonight, it would finally be safe to open the journal and send her a message. Draco had survived the summer on scraps of information, and he was starving for her.

Amelia was missing from the Hufflepuff table, and he hoped that she was safe wherever she was.

Hunted

It kept flashing in his mind, dragging his memory back to the Manor and the jeers of the Death Eaters. A wave of nausea overcame him at the thought of his peers falling prey to the monsters who set up base in his home.

His hand slid back into the pocket of his cloak and he gripped the Galleon in his fist, counting the seconds until his heart rate calmed.

It was only then that he realised no one had made mention of his involvement at the end of the previous year. In fact, no one paid any attention to him at all. Not even the sparsely filled table of Gryffindors, who he expected to have the strongest reaction to his betrayal. There was only one explanation.

Harry had not told anyone that Draco was on the Astronomy Tower with Snape when Dumbledore was murdered.

The feeling that swept over him was akin to that of a dive after the snitch—his stomach dropped and his breath caught.

Inside the Great Hall, the air stilled, the motions of the room seemed to slow and blur as his stare connected with Snape's black eyes. After the first years had been sorted, Draco was filled with a sense of discomfort.

Everything felt wrong.

The sorting ceremony, usually a joyous occasion where students were embraced and welcomed into their new houses, gave the impression of children walking to their demise. There was visible relief on the faces of first years when they were sorted into Slytherin, as if a sense of safety accompanied the house under the reign of the Dark Lord. The students who were sorted in Gryffindor had an air around them, holding their chins up as they passed the Head table, as if they were unafraid.

Foolish.

The thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

And brave, he mentally corrected himself. They could be both.

This year would be different than any other. As Head Boy, he would have additional duties outside of his standard Prefect duties. With the changing of the guards from Dumbledore to Snape, Draco was unsure of the expectations that surrounded his new post. After supper, the Prefects directed the first years to their dormitories for orientation.

Void of emotion, Snape made his way up to the podium. If Draco had not grown up accustomed to reading his lack of expression, he would have thought the new headmaster heartless. Before speaking, Snape paused, but that was the only indication that he might be affected by replacing the man he had murdered mere months ago.

The pit in Draco's stomach grew as Headmaster Snape addressed the Great Hall, standing where Dumbledore stood on the first of September for decades. Seated on either side of Snape were the Carrow twins. As per the Dark Lord's orders, Alecto Carrow replaced McGonagall as deputy headmistress and Amycus Carrow was appointed deputy headmaster.

Dumbledore's usual words of enthusiasm and encouragement had been replaced by Snape's low droning speech, exhausting the magic and energy from the room. Behind Draco, a first year began to cry, her shoulders shaking through the hiccups; his heart clenched, thinking back to Amelia in her first year, crying at the hands of the bullies.

This time, there was nothing Draco could do.

Scanning the room, he took note of the varying expressions spread across the Great Hall as students from all houses watched Snape's address. There were several students who Draco recognised as children of Death Eaters sitting at the Slytherin table with smug expressions, as if they thought themselves immune to the trials the year would bring.

Even Blaise was not his jovial self, making no jokes or mentions of spending his summer under a pile of witches. Draco made a mental note to ask him about Luna later; he had not heard from Blaise all summer.

The rest of the banquet passed by him like a buzzing in his ears, inconsequential and irritating.

As he opened the portrait to the Head Dorm, password 'Eternal Reign', he shuddered at the implication. The Head Boy badge hung heavy on his cloak. Even a year ago, the title would have felt like an accomplishment. Today, it felt like tighter strings in his back from a puppeteer, controlling him and moving him around as they pleased.

"Pansy." The name dropped from his mouth as he stopped in his tracks at the sight of the raven-haired girl lounging on the Common Room sofa. "You're Head Girl?"

Scoffing, she inspected her perfectly manicured nails. "You don't have to sound so surprised. You know my father has pleased the Dark Lord over the past year. Funded the project to bribe the Giant Colony in Scotland."

Draco's brows raised with a skeptical air.

"It's not undeserving, Draco. I was Slytherin Prefect, you know."

"I know."

Looking around the room, he took in the surroundings with curiosity; he had never seen the Head Dormitory before. Though he and Pansy were both from Slytherin, the Head Common Room was designed in neutral beige and brown with no house affiliation, reminding Draco of the design of his and Hermione's place in the Come-and-Go Room.

"Your room is up on the right, mine on the left," Pansy informed him, her eyes holding on the pair of matching entrances on either side of the far wall. "The rooms are larger than the dungeons, and we even have windows that provide sunlight instead of the light from the lake."

With a slow nod, he felt at a loss for words.

"It feels different, doesn't it?" Her eyes glazed over, settling on the vase of white pansies on the table.

Before he could ask what she meant, Pansy's expression shifted and she became focused. "I'm sorry that I missed the train ride with the Prefects but I was…indisposed. Other business. You and I have to lead the first Prefect meeting this weekend. I spoke with Sna—with the Headmaster and he informed me that we have to enforce new guidelines provided by the Dark Lord."

"New guidelines?"

Her eyes flickered a moment before neutralizing, and she walked across the room to Draco as she spoke. "Guidelines for the students. The professors were trained last week on how to cover material in their courses. Most subjects have been stripped of content not in harmony with the Dark Lord's ideals and have been replaced with curriculum he has approved. As Deputy Heads, the Carrows will oversee all disciplinary actions."

A dozen stories from the summer flashed through his mind, reminding him of the horrors carried out by the siblings. They were notoriously cruel; most Death Eaters did not relish in torture, merely carrying out orders when necessary. There was no doubt in his mind that the Carrow twins enjoyed inflicting pain. Their specialty was the Cruciatus Curse, doling it out like candy at a parade. Tortured and ragged screams had echoed down the Manor halls from the Carrows, searing into Draco's head and making their way into his nightmares.

A lightheadedness overcame him, spots dancing in his peripheral vision. He thought of Hermione sitting patiently with her notebook, waiting for him. "Do you mind if we continue this tomorrow, Pans? It's been a long day and I could use the rest."

Placing a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder, Pansy gave a sympathetic nod. "I understand. Go get some rest. We can talk in the morning."

The comforting touch nearly brought tears to his eyes; he had pulled away from his parents over the summer and his only consistent human contact during the past few months had been with his aunt, which left him on edge. Theo had all but completely withdrawn from Draco, his pain palpable as he battled against his agony over Harry.

Draco missed his witch.

Following the path to his new room, Draco's legs felt heavy underneath him, threatening to buckle. After three months away, he could finally write to Hermione in the journal. She would know that today was the first day back to school; she would know that he would write to her tonight.

Staring blankly at the page, he dipped his quill in ink. He could not decide what to write first. There were a thousand messages that he needed to give her. After a pause, he settled on writing the one message that ached in his soul.

I miss you. He watched as his words disappeared, his fingers tapped on the wooden desk as he awaited her reply.

I miss you more than words can say…

Stifling a sob of relief, he let out the breath he had not realised he was holding. The words, though simple, were beautiful to read.

Are you safe? Are you eating enough? Do you need anything?

Yes, yes, and you. Fighting a smile, he imagined Hermione's teasing look as she replied. But second best would be Pinky's scones. I'm rather sick of mushrooms and fish.

He stilled, dipping his quill again as more words appeared before he could reply.

Before you panic, that was a joke. Mostly. Don't think I didn't miss Pinky sneaking a horde of food into my satchel last month. I had to tell Harry and Ron that I nicked the food from a nearby campsite so they weren't suspicious. Though it was the best meal we've had since leaving the Burrow. Turns out three magical teenagers aren't exactly skilled fishers.

I wish I was with you.

Is this where you try to convince me that you're a skilled fisher?

I did catch the cutest witch I know. A small smile spread on his lips as the words faded.

That doesn't count. You only thought you caught me, but really it was you who fell into my trap.

The curve of his lips grew into a grin as he dipped his quill into the ink, prepared to give up every second of sleep for just a moment more with her.

The first course of the day was Muggle Studies. Over the summer, his old professor of Muggle Studies—Charity Burbage—had entered the Manor for questioning and had not been seen since. His mother refused to give him details from the meetings at the Manor in an attempt to spare him, though he was not a child. He knew Professor Burbage had gasped her last breath in his home.

When Draco entered the old Muggle Studies classroom, the first thing he noticed was the high number of vacant spaces scattered throughout the classroom—where the Muggleborn students usually sat. The second thing he noticed were the new books on every desk. Before he even reached his seat, he recognised the deep purple cover of the book; he had seen it at his grandparents' home as a young child.

Draco's grandparents had been raving blood purists, making his own parents appear loving and tolerant in comparison. His grandparents were well known for their schemes against Muggles and Muggleborns. His grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, was widely believed to have been involved in the plot to force the first Muggleborn Minister for Magic out of office. Due to the Malfoy vaults and extensive connections, no conclusive evidence was found against him.

His grandmother regularly conspired with her social circle to trace lineage of several powerful families and blackmail them. If a squib or Muggle were found in the family line—and it became public knowledge—their place in society would immediately fall, never to recover.

'No amount of gold in the world can offset proper breeding and pedigree,' his grandmother used to say in her grating voice.

Alecto strolled into the classroom, twirling her wand in her hand. The sound of the class died down into petrified silence; the rumours about Alecto preceded her.

"Welcome to the next stage of your education. The Dark Lord has had the inspiration and wisdom to reopen Hogwarts and clean up the disgusting lies that they were teaching you children. This course is mandatory for all years and will be the most important information that you study all year. As you know from the welcome feast, I am Alecto Carrow, the Deputy Headmistress and your new professor for Corruption of the Bloodline.

"There will be oral examinations at the start of each class. Failure to answer will result in detention. The book in front of your desk will become one of many that you will read for this course." A nasty sneer spread across her face. "The Pure-Blood Directory was written by Cantankerous Nott in the 1930's. It lists the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. Does anyone know what I mean by the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

Her beady eyes scrutinised the room, waiting for a reply. When no student spoke up, she flicked her wand, raining painful sparks down on the students. A white spark landed on Draco's bare hand, stinging with pain. An angry red burn glared against his pale skin. After his summer, he did not even react, merely watching the mark form with curiosity. Quiet sounds of indignation and pain made their way across the room.

"I'll ask again. Does anyone know what I mean by the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

Hannah Abbott's hand raised, visibly hesitant. "They are the twenty-eight families whose lineage can be traced with no Muggleborns in their family tree at the time of publication."

Alecto's pointed teeth shone as she curled her lips at Hannah. "Very good. And you are?"

"Hannah Abbott," she squeaked, shrinking down in her chair.

"Abbott. A Sacred Twenty-Eight family—I'm pleased. A Sacred Twenty-Eight family means they are pure. The family ancestry can be traced back without any beastly ancestors whatsoever as far as can be determined. This is extremely rare and most precious. How many of you have Sacred Twenty-Eight blood?" Alecto raised her thin brows expectantly.

Draco watched as hands raised around the room. Hannah Abbott. Millicient Bulstrode. Pansy Parkinson. He shared a glance with Theo, before they both raised their hands.

Neville Longbottom sat with his arms crossed in front of him, defiant and unyielding.

With a tilt of her head, Alecto turned her attention to Neville. "Did you forget something? Mr. Longbottom?"

"It doesn't matter," Neville declared, his face hardened. "Blood is all the same no matter what. Why should I care about some publication written sixty years ago by insane blood supremacists?"

The corner of Alecto's eye twitched as she let out a low growl. Waving her wand, Neville's head slammed down against the edge of the wood desk with a hard thud. "You'd do to watch your mouth, Longbottom. Detention. Tonight. Don't bother bringing your quill—you won't be writing lines."

With the rest of the class watching her with wide eyes, Alecto continued down to the other side of the classroom. "You have been manipulated and deceived by your so-called professors. The only legitimate ruler of magic is the Wizarding Race. The beasts—or as you were taught to call them, 'Muggles', are below filth."

The veins in her neck popped with her eyes as she grew more animated, spitting vitriol across the room. "They will never be worthy to hold magic and any Mudblood with magic stole it from a witch or wizard to taint the bloodlines and corrupt our world. They are like animals, brainless and foul. They have driven real witches and wizards into hiding with their vicious and savage ways."

Draco glanced at Neville from the corner of his eye; a purple bruise was already starting to form on his head.

"Well, no more!" Alecto's wand struck against Pansy's desk, causing her to move back, away from the professor. "The natural order is being restored through our brilliant and powerful leader, the Dark Lord. Once reestablished, we will rule over the dirty creatures and usher in a new golden age of the Wizarding World. Your first assignment is to memorize all twenty-eight families for the next lesson. You are dismissed."

Draco thought back to Theo's words. This is only the start.

I can't believe my witch is eighteen years old today. Happy birthday, love

Draco watched as the words bled into the journal and faded.

Not quite how I anticipated this birthday, though I'm expecting you to go all out for the next one. I expect a birthday crown, a judgmental look from Pinky, and at least one serenade. And don't you worry, I'll be home with you before your birthday.

Her words stabbed at his chest; June felt so far away.

I promise to never miss another birthday for as long as I live.

Scratching the quill against the page, he began sketching out a sequence of panels. In the first scene, he drew himself, alone and sad in bed with a thought bubble above him and an image of Hermione in the bubble. In the second panel, he drew a heroic and powerful Hermione, her hands on her hips and the Dark Lord on the ground beneath her foot. The third image made him laugh; it was him running into her arms and her carrying him away in victory as they celebrated the death of the Dark Lord.

The image disappeared and he waited for several moments for her reply.

I just had to come up with a ridiculous lie about why I'm sitting in the tent and laughing. I hope you're proud of yourself!

He imagined her chewing on her lip, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed at the images.

I am proud, thank you very much. If I can't give you a proper gift, I thought a glimpse into the future would suffice. What was the excuse?

I told them I'm reading a humourous take on Egyptian Hieroglyphics. They didn't care to ask for more detail after that.

Tell them you're reading De Libro Sexus

…do I want to know?

Wealsey will know what it is. His parents had a thousand kids, so I guarantee they owned at least one copy.

Draco.

It's the magical version of that Muggle book, the Kama Sutra

DRACO!

Blaise brought them both to school with him—don't blame me for his depravity! His mother is just a bit too open minded with that sort of thing. She didn't entice seven husbands with her glowing personality.

Oh my god.

…part of you is curious though. Isn't it?

Shut up.

A moment later more text appeared.

But yes.

For academic purposes, of course.

Draco fell asleep with a smile on his lips that night.

"Nope. I refuse to believe it." Hermione's wild mane of hair shifted as she shook her head. "You're lying."

A smirk tugged at Draco's lips. "I'm not, I've never made a snowman. It must be a Muggle tradition."

"I firmly believe it has to be from wizards. There's even a famous Muggle story about Frosty the Snowman. He comes to life."

Stopping mid-stride, Draco gave her a look of incredulity. "How do Muggles know about Frostine?"

"Frostine?" she repeated blankly. "Do you mean Frosty?"

"No." His brow furrowed. "Frostine, the Witch of Winter. She used magic to bring snow and ice to life to create an army that couldn't be killed. Tried to take over the Wizarding World."

Hermione frowned. "Why haven't I ever heard this story?"

"She wasn't exactly successful."

"Because she forgot about fire?"

He choked on a laugh. "Yes, Granger. Because she forgot about fire."

"And summer," she added with a knowing look.

Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. "Nothing gets past you, my love. She had much to overcome, being fictional and all.

Giving a slight tilt of her head, Hermione pondered, "I wonder how many Muggle legends began as children's tales from the Wizarding World."

The snow crunched beneath their feet as they continued walking around the grounds of Hogwarts, all but abandoned due to the cold. Hermione cast another Warming Charm over them, rubbing her hands together and breathing hot air onto them.

Tugging his scarf free, he placed it around her neck, looping it around until it was snug.

Her hands drifted up to fiddle with the soft material, a small smile dancing on her lips. "Thank you."

"You should keep it." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "It looks good on you."

"That means I officially have your Falmouth Falcons shirt, Slytherin Quidditch jersey, scarf, and tie. In a few years, you won't have much left to wear."

A low sound of approval came from his chest. "I like seeing you in my clothes. Speaking of, you don't wear the jersey nearly enough."

"You only like it because it says 'Malfoy' on the back." She grinned, nudging him with her shoulder as they walked.

"What can I say? The name looks good on you, Granger." He winked, his chest swelling as he watched a pretty blush cover her cheeks. "Hermione Malfoy has a nice ring to it."

"You'll have to stop calling me Granger then," she teased, pressing her teeth into the pillow of her lower lip.

"Never!" He spun around to face her, his hands swooping down to spread across her back as he dipped her into a kiss. "You'll always be my Granger."

She returned the kiss, tangling her fingers in his hair. "And you'll always be my—"

A pounding noise on Draco's door woke him, stirring him out of his memory. Groaning, Draco threw his pillow across the room in annoyance.

"Are you decent? I'm coming in either way," Theo called through the closed door, entering the room.

"Why are you in my room? I told Pansy to not to give you the password to the Head Dorm." Draco slung his arms over his head. "You ruined a perfectly good dream. You know how few of those I have these days."

"I had an epiphany at the bottom of my bottle of whisky last night," Theo announced.

"Why don't you go bother Blaise?"

Theo snagged Draco's cloak from the wardrobe. "Blaise is busy with Luna. He moved her into his room full time after she had a run in with the Carrows near Ravenclaw Tower. You were right, we need to stop moping around. Harry and Hermione need us, and we aren't doing shit to help by feeling sorry for ourselves."

Glaring, Draco sat up in bed. "As annoying as it is that you woke me up, it is refreshing to hear you admit that I'm right. What are you proposing?"

"We have to start planning so we are ready when they get back," Theo insisted, picking up Draco's pillow from the floor and tossing it back at him. "Time to get up, sunshine. We have work to do."