Content Warnings: alludes to child abuse, scenes of torture, scenes of attempted suicide, implied depression. Rated M because of this, rather than smut.
A/N: Other stories of mine either available on AO3, or are being finished behind the scenes and will be posted again when done (I don't have a timeline-I barely have time to write right now). I'm starting out with this one story for now and don't know if I'll ever upload the others here again or only completed future works. I'm already leery about posting here again. This story has no beta, 8 total chapters, is fully written, and will be updated on Thursdays. Thank you for reading and I hope you'll enjoy.
Chapter 1: Date the Girl Who Bests You In Every Class
Draco's thoughts were entirely consumed with her. Eleven years old and he felt the stirrings of infatuation beginning already. He knew what his parents would say—but what did they honestly know?
They'd always told him that Mudbloods were unworthy of the gift of magic, that they could never be as quick and efficient as a person borne of a long-reigning and pristine lineage. But how could that be, when the very subject of his infatuation was a Mudblood? What about her is muddy anyway? Besides the colour of her eyes. A flutter tickled in his stomach at the thought of the way her eyes lit up when she mastered a new spell. She isn't dirty—her regulation Hogwarts uniform looks tidier than any other student's.
"You alright, mate?" Theo asked from across the train compartment. "You've hardly said anything since we started out."
Draco saw the train station drawing nearer and leaned away from the window, shaking the image of her from his mind. "Just worrying whether father was able to get a release date on the Nimbus 2001. It was my only request for Christmas, so I don't see how he could fail in sneaking out a prototype."
Theo rolled his eyes and popped the last of his Bertie Bott's beans into his mouth, wincing at one that looked suspiciously vomit-flavoured. "Spoiled little sod."
Draco clasped the lapel of his robes haughtily and shrugged. "You're just jealous."
"Hell yes I am," Theo responded just as the train jostled to a stop. "You're coming over the day after Christmas, right?"
"If I have time," Draco replied, knowing full well he'd never blow Theo off. "Happy Christmas."
He disembarked the Hogwarts Express to find his mother's dearest friend and her daughter waiting away from the other parents. He searched the crowd for a head of blonde hair and his shoulders sagged when he found none. With a sigh, he straightened up once more and went to Mrs. Greengrass. "I suppose Mother is at home, decorating a dozen firs?"
"Something like that," Mrs. Greengrass laughed with a nod. "You know Narcissa. Always aims to please you."
"She could have shown up."
"Go easy on her, Draco. She's only trying to make your first Christmas home memorable. Ah, and here's Daphne."
She stepped around him to greet her eldest daughter and Draco was left to keep company with the youngest—a girl of only nine—nine! Her cheeks tinged pink and she looked at him bashfully. "Hi, Draco."
He rolled his eyes and remembered his mother's harsh warning. Treat Astoria with kindness, Draco Lucius, for one day you may find yourselves betrothed. "Astoria," he murmured, uneasy as thoughts of a bushy-haired witch flooded his mind. Betrothed. The sea of Sacred Twenty-Eight members was narrowing into more of a pond, and she was one of the few choices nearing his age. He shook his head, ridding it of both Granger and thoughts of the Greengrass parents being thrilled to have him courting their daughter.
"Come on, then. Mrs. Malfoy has requested we join them for dinner."
And with that, he followed Mrs. Greengrass through the platform and to a floo. His home smelled of cinnamon and clove making his stomach growl. Dobby always made the best cinnamon and spice tea cakes, though he'd never show a measure of gratitude in front of Father. Faerie lights and evergreen hung everywhere, baubles enchanted to float above their heads and the ceiling mimicked the one at Hogwarts, snow falling and melting before it reached eye-level.
His mother gave an uncharacteristic shriek and threw her arms around him. "Welcome home, Draco! I've had the house-elves preparing you a feast unlike any other we've had here."
He doubted that it could compare to the feasts they shared in the Great Hall but he tapped his mother's back and smiled. "Can't wait."
When they entered the dining hall, his father was already seated at the head of the long table, his hands crossed. "Well?" Draco asked upon seeing him. "Did you find any?"
"They will not be produced until the summer," his father answered.
"I need that broom if I am to beat Potter in a match."
"Don't you need to make the team first?" Daphne queried, sitting daintily in her chair.
"I think a charitable donation on our part might grease the wheel a little bit, son," Father told him, winking in a way that exuded confidence in his words. "You may not have it for Christmas, but I've ordered one for each member of the team, expecting you'll be made Seeker right away, of course. A mere token of our appreciation."
Draco felt his smirk widen. There wasn't a chance Potter could beat him to the snitch with that broom between his legs. His mood was far more jovial as he began shoveling food onto his plate.
"How are your classes going?" An innocent question posed by the kindly Mrs. Greengrass. Until—
"Draco's second in the class. A girl is besting him at every turn," Daphne reported proudly, smiling behind a spoon of soup.
Draco glared at her, knowing this conversation was spiralling downward fast. "It's only by a short margin. I could easily catch up in the second half of the year."
"So a young witch is top of the class? She must be brilliant to be ahead," Narcissa accessed, eyeing her son's reaction.
Draco swallowed hard and nodded. "She is. She's always got her hand in the air and bouncing with the need to spew knowledge over us all. Her potions are perfect and her essays are always a foot longer than mine."
Father leaned in conspiratorially, though his voice was above a whisper with the distance between him and Draco. Giving a side-long glance to his wife, he grinned. "You know, son, I say go for it and date the girl. I went for someone far more intelligent and we've been married for nearly eighteen years." Mother and Mrs. Greengrass shared a coy laugh.
Date the girl. Draco nearly choked on a potato and Astoria patted him on the shoulder to try and unlodge it from his windpipe as he coughed. His eyes flickered to Daphne where her smile only spread and a hint of mischief touched her eye. "She's a Mudblood."
"Do not use such foul language, Daphne Greengrass!" her mother chided.
Daphne simply took a sip from her drink. Draco never liked her, she was always sneakier than even a Slytherin should be. "That's impossible," Father bellowed, scooting back from the table. "Mudbloods don't possess the magical prowess to rise above others."
Draco looked to his mother, who pursed her lips, her big dinner ruined. "Is this true, Draco?"
Draco thought about lying, about cursing Daphne under the table. Instead a tiny light shimmered at the back of his mind. What if I can get them to see they're wrong? His parents, though they never spoke of it, had fought on the losing side of a blood war a decade before. His father regularly had dealings with Muggles and Muggleborns alike. If he profited from their prowess and intelligence, then surely he could see how he's wrong here?
"It's true," he muttered, dropping his eyes to his soup when his father's face began to turn a deadly shade of puce. "She defies the logic of the Old Ways. But father, if she can defy every rule or belief, what if others can, too?"
"I will not listen to this nonsense in my home a moment longer." Father was standing now, dinner all but abandoned. "You will go back to school and you will study every moment of the day. If she writes an essay a foot longer than others, you write one a foot and a half longer. If she leaves the library at ten, you leave at eleven."
"Lucius," Mother murmured, touching his arm to calm him. "I'm certain Draco sees the error of falling behind even for a moment and will do better in the coming months."
"I study enough as it is. When would you have me sleep, Father?"
Draco knew he'd mouthed off a step too far when his father brandished his wand from its holster in the cane and pointed it in the direction of the dungeons. Draco would be punished for his sass. His Mother stepped in front of them in protest. "Lucius, it's Christmas. Can't we just put this behind us and we can hire a tutor come January?"
Father ground his teeth, working his jaw. His anger still evident, he looked down at his wife. "You coddle him too much, Cissy. You're turning him soft. We cannot have him falling behind a Mudblood. What would the others think? You know we have big plans for the future—what if he grows sympathetic to their cause?"
Draco put a hand on his mother's shoulder, squaring up now that the threat of punishment seemed less pressing. "Father, I can assure you, I'm not growing sympathetic to their cause. She's a repulsive hag of a girl. I'll meet with the tutor every day, if you'd like. I'm sorry I failed you."
With a curt nod, his father turned on heel and strode away to his study, clearly unhappy with the situation and only humouring his wife for the holidays. Draco and his mother turned to look toward the table and say that their guests were nowhere to be found. He began plotting revenge on Daphne. He only narrowly avoided two weeks without any comforts in the dungeons due to her gossip.
His mother shrugged, levitating only a tray of fruit and cheese, leaving a nearly untouched spread. "So much for 'date the girl', huh?" her lips pursed into a thin line and she scoffed. "Let's enjoy the last of the Yule log, shall we?"
She snaked her hand over his shoulders and led them toward the drawing room. Granger's face, bright and alive with wonder danced through his mind. Wild curls and too-large teeth that somehow fit her face. A hag. Even he couldn't convince himself of such nonsense.
Date the girl.