"No."
Draco shook his head so violently that he wondered if it were humanly possible for it to fall off his shoulders. He imagined his head falling from his shoulders and rolling across the centuries-old rug that adorned the room. Maybe that was something to strive for, actually. Finally, when his head settled back into place, he planted his feet firmly into the ground and crossed his arms over his chest, as if somehow this was going to make his unwavering rejection more evident.
Never had he been more horrified in his life and that included a lifetime dotted with a number of gruesome incidents, particularly from the past six months and most of them involving at least a couple crazed Death Eaters. He had never imagined that his worst moment would happen here in the office of Minerva McGonagall, with Severus fucking Snape bearing witness. He felt as though he might actually be sick all over that stupid ancient rug.
"No," he repeated, a bit more aggressively. "I won't do it and you cannot make me."
"Oh, I assure you that we can, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall corrected. She stepped towards Snape who was hovering by the fireplace. Her right eyebrow arched high as she gave her colleague a knowing glance and then she turned to purse her thin lips at Draco. "And we will. I'm saddened to say that your academic performance has been shockingly unsatisfactory so far this term. Your attendance record has been non-existent. You have not handed in even one of the essays assigned to you. Above all of your crimes, however, is your harassment of teachers as well as your fellow students. I'm afraid that we cannot allow you to remain a student at Hogwarts unless your grades - and attitude - improve immediately."
What a shame that would be, Draco thought.
"Your grades, Mr. Malfoy, are abysmal." This time, the lecturing came from Snape. He loomed behind McGonagall just as a child would cower behind their mother. With his arms crossed over his robes, Snape reminded Draco of a teacher's pet tattling on a classmate. If his mind weren't on more pressing matters, Draco would have taken a moment to enjoy the sight before him. But none of this was any laughing matter.
The tension between Draco and his professor was palpable. Frankly, Draco didn't give a damn. He felt the way that Snape was glaring at him with his pitch-black eyes, silently advising Draco to be subservient. To do as the old bat said, in other words. But Draco wasn't about to budge. Sure, he could be pushed around by his father, by Snape, or by Lord Voldemort. But he wasn't just going to allow McGonagall to boss him around. Let Snape be mad at him all he wanted. If the bastard wanted to be bothered, then so be it.
"So what?" Draco said finally. "Suppose I get my grades back up to par on my own. In my opinion, I find it highly unnecessary that I have some snot-nosed little first-year teach me Potions or whatever it is that you two have been concocting. How about you just take my word for it that I will make an effort to improve?"
"Unfortunately, I'm afraid it is no longer up to you. We have given you ample opportunity to mend things on your own and yet you have chosen not to do so time and time again."
Draco's patience was wearing thin. Maybe it was the suffocating anxiety Draco had already been feeling, or the unbearable heat in McGonagall's tiny office, or the way that Snape's beady eyes were antagonizing Draco more and more with each passing moment. Maybe it was a combination of all three. He could feel the anger boiling inside of him, slowly waiting for its moment to spew itself onto his professors.
Trying to remain as calm as possible, Draco turned to narrow his eyes at the Deputy Headmistress. "I'm sorry, but why are you even here? I believe this is something that I should be discussing with the Head of Slytherin house, or perhaps even the Headmaster, don't you agree? I just can't see how lecturing Slytherin students about their grades falls under the job description of the Head of Gryffindor house."
"You will watch your tongue and show respect to Professor McGonagall," Snape snarled.
"As a matter of fact, this matter concerns both myself and Professor Snape."
Now Draco was intrigued. "Enlighten me."
"The student whom we have arranged to tutor you is from the Gyffindor house. Thankfully, after significant persuasion on my part, they have agreed to help."
"Not a damn Gryffindor. Which poor sod have you decided to unleash me upon?"
"Ms. Hermione Granger."
McGonagall's words hung in the air as Draco struggled to absorb him. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, as if he could erase the words with force. Hermione fucking Granger.
"You're having a laugh." Draco glanced back and forth between the professors, expecting one of them to crack a smile and reveal it all to be a prank. "What kind of a sick fucking joke is this?"
"Mr. Malfoy, I have tolerated your poor conduct to this point and I have been quite lenient with allowing your profanities. But I will now remind you that you are speaking to two of your professors, one of whom is your Head of House. I should warn you to exercise caution and watch your language."
Draco could not wrap his head around anything they were saying. He was fairly certain that McGonagall had had it out for him since the moment she saw him walk into the Entrance Hall in his first year. The Malfoy name did carry a reputation that no one could look past, for better and for worse, and of course, these things did come with their prejudices. Of course, McGonagall hated him for his name. Frankly, who didn't these days? This must have been some sort of backhanded way at getting back at him for being a Malfoy. He had to hand it to her - she had really hit the nail on the head with this one.
"This is absolutely ridiculous. I'm -" Draco started to say. Then he stopped. He had almost said that his father would hear about this. But his father wouldn't, would he? And even if he could get in contact with his father, what exactly would that achieve? McGonagall would laugh in his face.
Draco pictured Hermione Granger in his mind, her chin perpetually tilted to the sky as she strutted through the corridors of the school as if she owned it. How the students at Hogwarts thought she was so remarkable, despite her dull appearance and unexceptional character. This plain girl was meant to tame someone like him? The thought was absolutely laughable to Draco.
He looked McGonagall in the eye, calling her bluff. "Not bloody likely. But thank you for the opportunity."
"Mr. Malfoy, if you do not accept these extra lessons, your academic study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be terminated, effective immediately. Your trunks will be packed within moments and you will be sent home before dusk. Is that what you want?"
Draco almost immediately agreed. Almost. He saw his freedom flash before him like the light at the end of a tunnel, calling out to him and promising a world without Harry Potter or Hermione Granger or Severus fucking Snape. But then he remembered he had a job to do. Kill or be killed. How the fuck was he meant to murder the Headmaster as well as sneak a dozen Death Eaters into the most protected building in Europe if he was expelled from the school?
A knot tied itself in his stomach. He knew what he had to reply, but the words caught in his throat. Finally, he spat them out as if they were poisoned. "No. That is not what I want."
Snape looked instantly relieved. Behind McGonagall's back, he gave Draco a curt, approving nod. Fucking tosser.
"Excellent," McGonagall said. Draco could have sworn that she was holding back a smug smile. "Your first lesson will be this evening in the library."
"Tonight?" Panic rose in his throat. He had no time to prepare, let alone plan his escape from the school and from his life in a few short hours. He racked his brain for excuses. "I won't count on it. Granger will never do it. I'd rather not waste my time."
"I've already spoken to Ms. Granger, as you'll remember me saying. She has agreed. 9 o'clock. Don't be late."
McGonagall started towards the door. Draco was desperate. He stepped forward, calling his professor's name.
"I should warn you that I'm not feeling well this morning. I ate a bad egg this morning at breakfast."
McGonagall glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, understandable. I'll let Madam Pomfrey know you'll be visiting this afternoon. She'll have you fixed up in no time, to be sure. Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."
With that, McGonagall left the room and Draco was wordlessly dismissed. McGonagall had won this round, although what she didn't know was that it was all for naught. The only thing keeping Draco at Hogwarts was the eventual death of Dumbledore. The irony was not lost on him.
Defeated, Draco stalked into the corridor with his hands clenched in fists at his sides. He never was a physically aggressive child. Why bother when he had an endless supply of magic that he could use at any moment to torment his schoolmates with? But right now, he felt as though he could punch right through one of the stone castle walls. The school term had only just begun and already it was by far the worst one yet.
As he stormed down the corridor, he felt as though the walls were closing in around him. He could hardly breathe, but it wasn't from his pace. He cleared his throat repeatedly and reached up to loosen his tie so that it wasn't pulling so tightly against his neck. He felt as though he was choking. After taking in a few deep breaths, he hurried down the staircase to the ground level of the castle.
How long would he have to suffer? How long would he have to endure the consequences of his father's existence? Why had the man brought him into the world only to shackle him to a life where he was destined to fall? Where he was under constant surveillance by a raging psychopath with unreliable violent tendencies? Voldemort would have him killed for a number of reasons but if Draco let slip the plan to murder Dumbledore before the deed was carried out, he was sure to have his head on a spike or something similar within the hour. A powerful man like Albus Dumbledore would be protected. He would effectively disappear from their world and would never be seen again if he found out what was coming for him. He had done so for far less. The only reason they had a fighting chance was that Dumbledore was so ancient that he let his guard down and was now sauntering around a castle playing teacher to a bunch of halfwitted students.
Draco made his way down one of the open corridors that looked out upon the courtyard. The light was nearly gone from the sky but many students were still lingering, trying to soak in whatever bit of fresh air and freedom that they could. With the strict restrictions on the castle, it was hard not to feel claustrophobic this year. In that regard, Draco felt almost akin to his classmates. It might be the only bond they had ever shared in all of these years. But Draco tried not to be too sentimental about it. In a few months, they would all want his head anyway. Why bother feeling connected to them now?
A burst of wind blew through the open windows and Draco shuddered, tugging his sleeves down over his fists. His mother would Avada Kedavra him if she knew he was out without his coat on. It was sort of funny how she worried for his health like that, as if he weren't about to put his life at risk.
As Draco passed through the corridor, he glanced out to the yard and his eye caught a mass of dark curls billowing in the wind. His blood ran cold. He stopped in his tracks and stood behind a partial stone wall, weathered from the years. He observed Hermione Granger from afar as if studying a creature. She was sitting on a concrete bench, just as she had been on their last encounter, but this time she was scribbling her quill hastily across a parchment paper.
Her hair had gone completely wild, not that she gave a toss, and she seemed equally unbothered by the commotions around her. In fact, Draco wasn't even sure that she realized anyone was with her at all.
It pissed Draco off. How could someone be so bloody ignorant about the world around them?
Sure, maybe it was possible that he was projecting his own personal crap onto her, and everyone else, for that matter. But personally, he felt it was warranted. If anyone deserved to be targeted in this spew of hatred, it was Granger. Supposedly flawless and indisputably intelligent - yes, even Draco could admit to himself that Granger was smart - he didn't know anyone who didn't openly or secretly worship her. If her biggest problem in the world was being teased for being a know-it-all, then she had nothing to complain about. Every summer, she went back to her bizarre Muggle world with her perfect parents who brushed teeth for a living, and Draco went home to his emotionally abusive father and poor damaged mother. Draco laughed internally at the thought of Granger spending a day in his shoes.
Fuck her, Draco thought. He shook his head and continued through the corridor. He couldn't fathom how he was going to spend the night being lectured by that prissy little Gryffindor.
As he entered the castle, his eye caught a figure standing in the shadows of a corridor. Nearing the figure, he saw distinctive jet black hair and striking green eyes gleaming back at him.
"Afternoon Draco," Pansy Parkinson purred. She stepped forward, reaching up to adjust Draco's collar with a frown. "I've been looking all over for you."
"Yeah, well, I've been busy."
"Too busy for Pansy?" Her bottom lip pouted out dramatically. She tapped her index finger against his collarbone. "I missed you this summer."
Clearly, she wasn't all that interested in finding out where Draco had been all afternoon. But he wasn't resentful. In fact, he was grateful for her disinterest. He didn't want to share and she didn't want to listen. Maybe that was why they worked together.
"Yeah?" he responded absentmindedly. He wasn't typically all that interested in what Pansy had to say, but today he felt even more lost in their conversation. His mind was somewhere else, and that it felt fuzzier than it had these past few weeks of school was truly saying something.
"Why don't you meet me after supper tonight? We can… catch up."
Frankly, Pansy Parkinson annoyed the fuck out of Draco. She was quite possibly the least interesting person he had ever met, including Granger. And she had not a single brain cell to call her own.
But he said yes. Not because he wanted to per se, but because she was there and Merlin knew he needed a distraction. That's what Pansy was for him - an adequate distraction.
Leaning onto her tiptoes, Pansy pressed a kiss on Draco's neck, just below his ear. She bounced back down and linked her arm into Draco's, leading him towards the Great Hall. The pair sauntered down the corridor together while Pansy babbled on about her summer and passersby looked on with judgement. All the while, Draco kept an expressionless look on his face as his mind drifted to thoughts of the curly-haired witch that awaited him that evening.