They don't speak again, and they never look at each other if they can help it. They stay on opposite ends of any room they both wind up in and stagger their exits. In effect, she's constantly on edge.

She can't forget what he said. It comes to her between thoughts, a whisper in her ear when she slips into the bath or catches a boy staring at her (which is happening with disturbing frequency these days). "The skin... on the back of her thighs? Is so soft." She'd frozen in shock when she'd heard it, unable to process that Draco Malfoy was complimenting her. Everyone's eyes had swiveled between her and the fight, especially after... It was somehow both better and worse than she'd imagined. Better because he hadn't called her ugly or disappointing or insulted her body. He hadn't divulged any details since the incident on the grounds to the best of her knowledge. She'd been keeping abreast of the gossip through Ginny. But it was also worse because in his efforts to wreak emotional havoc, he's framed the idea of having sex with her favorably. He's turned her into a sexual idea to her classmates. Pulled her off her pedestal and brought her within reach in explicit terms. In an outcome she hadn't foreseen, Hermione Granger has become touchable. A particularly bold Ravenclaw had tried to get his hands up the back of her skirt on Wednesday before Ginny bat-bogeyed him. She had hoped that would deter other would-be harassers, but the boy had left the Infirmary with a week's worth of detention claiming it had been "worth it". She'd have to drive the message home in a more.. personal manner.

The girls are just as bad. Parkinson has taken to moaning loudly whenever Hermione is around. "Oooooh my goooood, oh god, oh my god." The snickers follow her throughout the castle, an unwanted companion. The humiliation stings, and she begins to withdraw from her social routine. She studies in her room as often as possible and wakes early to eat breakfast alone. She's paranoid about her friendships suffering, but feels even worse drawing eyes and taunts everywhere she goes. She knows Harry's had more than enough of that and can't stifle her guilt. Hermione has always spent a good amount of time alone, she enjoys her own company and often has school and personal projects keeping her busy. However, she's spending too much time by herself these past two weeks and it's beginning to depress her (with the help of an entire school full of assholes). She does her best to think of other things, catch up on her reading, color code her clothes. She even allows Parvati to show her how to do her eyeliner in a cat-eye shape. But in the quiet moments she wonders why other people reveled in humiliating her so much. Is it because she likes to win? Hermione didn't see the harm in wanting to be the best. She worked hard and didn't cheat. She earned every single achievement. If other people fell short of the mark, wasn't that their fault? Ernie MacMillan loved to boast about his accomplishments and nobody was pouring philters in his morning tea.

Maybe it's because she's a woman, or because her parents are Muggles. People don't want to see her succeed. They want to shut her up. Maybe they're all fucking jealous. Or something in her is just... unlikable. And that's why her only friends are the extremely insecure kid and the mistreated, traumatized orphan. What a group they make.

It's such a nasty thought, and that makes her feel infinitely worse. As though she truly does deserve to be alone.

As it turns out, most pureblooded wizards are absolute fucking hypocrites. Even those who turn their noses up at him don't do it quickly enough - he sees the envy. They wait, either until they're in a large enough group or when they can catch him alone. And then they ask all sorts of questions. What do her tits look like? Are Mudbloods like regular girls down there? Was she a virgin? Was she loose? What did her cunt taste like? What's her ass like? and followup - did she let him fuck it? Was she loud? Was she obedient? Did he pull all that hair? Did she suck his cock? Did she like it rough? And on and on they go, speculating all the while.

He doesn't answer a single one.

As the weeks go on and he comes no closer to fixing the cabinet, the only solace he finds is in his mother's letter and Hermione's memory (he refers to her by her given name when he thinks of their time together; it makes him feel like it happened with another person altogether). It's the bright spot in what just may be the twilight of his short life, the only precious thing he still has tucked away inside of him. And they want to wank to it.

Unfortunately, NOT talking about it (past his comments on the lawn) has left room for imaginations to run wild. The person bearing the brunt of this was, naturally, Granger. Fucking Draco Malfoy? That's a story. Fucking Hermione Granger? That was a fantasy; shared throughout House and Year and most likely, faculty. In retrospect, he shouldn't have been so shocked at the interest in her. People always wanted what they couldn't have. The forbidden things call out the loudest. Plus, as his mother had often told him, "People love to tear a strong woman down." He sees the truth of it now, watching Granger push her way through crowds of jeering boys and vicious girls.

He can't wait for the next scandal and hopes desperately it isn't his. He watches her closely when he thinks he can get away with it. She hasn't been late to any of her classes and hasn't shown any signs of feeling ill. She should be able to perform the spell soon. Snape had told him she'd report to Pomfrey and he'd be notified from there. He's agonized over it sleepless night after sleepless night, running through his options. He always comes back to the same certainty: If she's pregnant, he has to hide her. Halfblood or not, it was his. Besides, Snape was a halfblood and he was a gifted wizard. Potter's mother was a Mudblood and he was doing, well, pretty alright when people weren't trying to kill him. If there was any Muggleborn safe to reproduce with, it would have to be Granger. Her magic was strong, no child of hers would be a squib. He couldn't give it his name of course, but he would do his duty as a father. He just had to make sure his father didn't find out about it...

He shakes his head, focusing back on his task. It's a boring wait, but he'd be pissed at himself if he missed his opportunity. He's crammed between the rough hewn stone wall and a gigantic likeness of Gomer the Good. There's just enough flowing cape to cast a shadow over his face, yet provide him the perfect view of the corridor leading to Ravenclaw Tower. He'd heard of Aldwyn Burley in passing; obnoxious little attention seeker that occasionally said something funny enough to warrant his survival (he completely misses the irony). The kid's probably been sorted incorrectly, can't be that clever if he's flipping up Granger's skirts. The fool should really be grateful he's chosen to inflict punishment before she does. Who knows what Granger would've done to him? He could be the next Marietta Edgecombe. Or hell, Delores Umbridge.

His fingers flex in his dragon hide gloves, careful not to drop the balloon filled with Butober pus. It's harsh, but some lessons need to be learned.

My dragon,

Life can take turns we don't expect and burden us with grief we feel we cannot carry. But you are a Malfoy and a Black, and you are not alone. I think of nothing but you and your father. I think one day you will find that the love of your child is the most priceless treasure you will ever possess.

I'm certain you remember the stories I read aloud to you when you were small. What do dragons do with treasure my darling?

Trust in Snape.

I love you.

Your eternally devoted mother