Chapter 5: Date the Girl Who Rides Fucking Thestrals Into Shitty Situations

Draco was going to murder her. No, scratch that. He was going to murder her supposed two best friends. He had tried to hold them in Umbridge's office, tried to make a scene great enough to ensure they didn't head to the Ministry of Magic. Though he had no idea of what his father's orders were, exactly, he knew enough by listening in to his parents' hushed conversations that something was amiss.

His instincts told him it involved Potter. And where Potter went, Granger's besotted arse followed. Talk around the school was that she was, once again, in the Hospital Wing. That they'd ridden fucking thestrals out of Hogwarts. That Granger had been hit with an unknown curse. That his father was the one to do it to her.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and marched into the Hospital Wing under the guise of needing a Dreamless Draught. His father had just been arrested, certainly such a request would draw no unwanted attention. As it turned out, his guise was not needed. Pomfrey was nowhere to be found.

"She's gone to the Gryffindor common room. Seamus tried to create a bomb using muggle technology and unpleasant potions. Didn't end well for him apparently," Granger told him, leaning down to tie the laces on one trainer.

He didn't miss the wince and the release of breath when she dropped her foot to the ground and waved her wand to do it. She pursed her lips, no doubt at the use of magic for such a menial task and looked up at him.

"Granger, what in the fuck were you doing in the Department of Mysteries?"

He hadn't meant to blurt it out, but Granger made him do odd things and stutter like a fool on a good day. She shrank back slightly at the hostility in his voice. "No 'sorry my father tried to kill all of you?'"

It was Draco's turn to wince. His father's jail time was a sore subject and the Dark Lord's retribution was sure to be at the forefront of his summer. He watched as Granger delicately touched the bandaging around her midsection. Whatever lay beneath was already soaking through, a bloom of blood spreading over her white shirt. "Dammit, I've popped it open again." She lifted her shirt and peeled the gauze back to reveal a violent purple scar running the length of her ribcage. He had to swallow to keep from being sick. "Dolohov nearly finished me off."

Dolohov. Not his father. Still, guilt ran through him. It may not have been his father, but it was evident now that he was associated with the Dark Lord's rise. He had helped to orchestrate the plot to end Potter and his friends. Draco's peers. Children. He swallowed thickly once more.

"You're lucky it wasn't my aunt who got you," he mentioned when Granger didn't bother to raise her voice or hex him.

"I wish that crazy cow would try. If any Death Eater deserves to die, it's her. She killed Sirius for no reason other than to torture Harry."

She attempted to reach the salve jar on her side table, instead sending rivulets of blood to run down her stomach. Draco stepped forward and retrieved it for her. His fingers itched to touch her, to feel that she was here. Safe. For now. He didn't trust himself to touch her, didn't deserve to. Instead, he leaned back against the corner of the potions cabinet and raised a brow, watching her rub the greasy balm over the incision. "I can't disagree with you there."

Granger looked up at him, mirroring his facial expression. He rolled his eyes. "She's been in Azkaban damn near my whole life. We haven't really shared too many meaningful moments. Though that's likely to change soon enough."

"You speak as though you know what's in store for you." She said it in a matter-of-fact tone, little to no empathy.

"Well, thanks to Potter's little stunt, my father is imprisoned. I'm his only heir, so sins of the father, and all that."

There it was. The softening of her features. Draco knew it was coming and still, he felt undeserving of the warmth that flooded her, the conviction with which she spoke next. "You have another choice. With You-Know-Who's return, others are gathering to fight. While your father is imprisoned, you could defect."

"He'd hunt me down and execute me."

Granger didn't seem to know whether he spoke of the Dark Lord or his father. He supposed it didn't matter. Either choice was plausible. Thoughts of returning to the Manor in a few short days made him physically ill, and he couldn't let her see him swoon. Not when their first real conversation was going so smoothly. "Did you really ride those god awful beasts?"

A sly smile crossed her lips as she stuck a new bandage to her wound. "Flying isn't my strong suit. But it makes for a pretty good story, doesn't it?"

"A story legends are made of." Draco smirked and for the first time, it held no malice, real or faked. "You Gryffindors are all bloody insane."

It was at this time the doors to the Hospital Wing slammed open and a flood of students gushed in. They accompanied a groaning Finnigan, looking a little worse for the wear, and a frantic Pomfrey. "See?" he muttered and Granger only sighed, pushing up from her bed to be a dutiful Gryffindor.

"Have a good summer, Malfoy," she breathed, shoving past him and shoulder-checking him for good measure.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Malfoy?" Pomfrey called, already turning her back on him to begin moving Finnigan from the air to a bed.

He made a show of plucking a vial of Dreamless Draught from her cabinet and sauntering out the door. "Just needed this. Salazar knows these repugnant lions give me nothing but nightmares."

"Or maybe that's just your family's constant failures," the Weasley girl spat and he turned to open his mouth in retort, only to be pushed from the room by Pomfrey.

"Out, Mr. Malfoy. Now."

He huffed and gave Granger one more furtive glance before raising his chin and strutting toward the dungeons like his name and breeding still carried clout. It didn't, but that was beside the point. The Weasley girl would absolutely shit a live dragon if she knew what he faced in the wake of his father's failures.

It made his heart race with anxiety to even think of his mother's last letter to him. The Dark Lord is angry, Draco. He wants to know what we will offer in our efforts to make amends. Draco knew what the vile bastard would demand. He'd have to take his father's place.

How would he ever step out of the shadows and show Granger that he wasn't Lucius? His mind warred with itself, a battle between saving his mother and losing Granger, or choosing Granger and watching his mother being slaughtered. It was a fight his weary brain knew all too well these days. He hadn't lied when he took the vial of draught—the Gryffindors really were at the center of his nightmares. Well, one fiery little Gryffindor witch with a penchant for trouble and a mastery of ill fortune.

His shoulders fell when he noticed the common room was empty, his facade completely melting away. There was one more O.W.L. in Beginners Alchemy that he needed to study for, but truth be told, he saw very little point in even trying any longer. His days were numbered. The Dark Lord was a very impatient man, and the implementation of his vengeance drew closer every day.

He stripped quickly and got into bed while the others were at dinner in the Great Hall. Chugging back the entire vial of the draught, he willed every negative thought to leave his body and soul. He didn't want to think of his father, shivering under the reign of the dementors of Azkaban, or the Dark Lord using the Cruciatus Curse on him over and over again until he was a drooling mess at his mother's feet, or the image of his mother bleeding out as he screams for her.

Not tonight. No, tonight he wants to relish in his fantasies. Fantasies where he's free from the restraints of his upbringing. Where he and Granger could be easy friends, study together, hold hands. He rolled onto his side and a smile graced his lips as he thought of taking Granger on a date to Madam Puddifoots. Would she like that? Probably not. She'd much rather be lavished with books. Perhaps he would take her to the Manor and show her the sprawling library within its walls.

Draco had no doubt in his mind that his life would be far different, teeming with joy, if only he could date the girl.

xXx

A/N: Sorry it's late. But to make up for it, I'll be uploading the last three chapters this week, a couple days apart. I'm shit at an update schedule.