Reformed

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Goldensnitch18

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Rated M for Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Language, and Violence.

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Summary: Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban and sent to Hogwarts for his eighth year where he has a year to show that he can be reformed. Hermione Granger, and her friends, are struggling to come to terms with what has happened to them and move on, but she has agreed to be Malfoy's Muggle Studies tutor anyway.

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Disclaimer: I am not profiting from this story.

Anything you recognize belongs to the great and mighty JKR.

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Chapter Sixteen

Sunday, November 8th, 1998

One week.

It had been a week, and he was utterly consumed by her presence and absence. Tonight, it was her absence that drove him mad. For five days straight, he had been able to hold her, kiss her, taste her as his hands ran over her clothes, and then it was the weekend, and he hadn't seen much of her at all. She came to meals with Weasley's sister and left with her too, and she'd been talking to Longbottom when he walked through the dorm to his room earlier that evening from dinner. Otherwise, nothing.

It was killing him.

He didn't want to admit it, but she was overtaking nearly all of his thoughts, only partially because of the memories of her in the same bed that he was lying in now, alone and tired, but unable to sleep. He didn't even know why he was allowing himself to get so attached, so entwined. She was Hermione Granger. She belonged with Weasley and Potter. As this thought crossed his mind, his hands clenched into fists. He forced himself to relax, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. They were her friends, just her friends, though he couldn't figure out why she would want to be friends with either idiot, and she wasn't his, except …

Except, she certainly felt like his.

She would probably be offended by the suggestion that he had some claim, some ownership over her, but he would gladly fall to his knees and beg to be hers, to give her everything in return. It was insanity, a quick and desperate spiral into the very thing that could destroy his life, or maybe even redeem it.

His eyes closed as he tried to think of his mother's face. What would she say? What would she think? He tried to remember his mother's soft scent, the way she rubbed his back when he was young and couldn't sleep, the way she was always sure and confident of what was right and true. She had always been Pure. She had always been beautiful and composed, until she wasn't. At his trial, she had been something new, something entirely un-Malfoy. Could it be possible that she may come around, may understand? He doubted it. He loved his mother. She was nearly all he had left, but she was not a woman given to change or Muggles.

And, his father. There was no reason to even entertain the idea that he would ever accept Draco being involved with a Mudblood. He may as well try to date a Hippogriff, but his father was in Azkaban at least. He ran a hand down his face, rubbing away the memories of that place as well as his knowledge of what his father's life must be like. He wanted to care, but somewhere along the way a sliver of resentment had pierced his skin and blossomed into anger that threatened to consume him. His father had done this to them all, driven them to this point.

In the midst of his resentment and anger, Granger wrapped herself around him, stripping him bit by bit of each wrong and cruel piece of himself as she replaced it with something he didn't entirely understand. She was the most delicious water, filling him with an incredible thirst for her way of looking at the world. While he longed to touch her, feel her, taste her more and more, he needed her in a way that went beyond simple physical desire and shook the foundation of who he was and what he represented. He was falling for her and becoming someone he barely recognized on the way down.

Exhausted and resigned to not sleeping once again, Draco pushed at the blankets haphazardly strewn over the bottom half of his body, and he pushed up from the mattress. The worst part of the whole thing was knowing how close she was. She was a few doors down, and who knew if she was sleeping or not, probably not. She seemed to have the same insomnia that plagued him each day, though he wasn't sure if her memories of the war were being slowly replaced with the ghosts of fingertips and tongues on skin as his were.

His hand slid through his hair as he moved towards the door. He needed to get out of his room, to stretch his legs, and get some space between himself and her door, that stupid closed door which called to him as he strode across the common room and out of the eighth year's dorm. The stone beneath his feet chilled his toes through his socks as he walked, not bothering to care if he was found out by a teacher. It had become clear over the past couple of months that his dorm mates were operating under a different set of standards than the rest of the of the student body.

He passed through the halls with a slow determination, not positive of any destination, but sure he wanted to put space between himself and Hermione Granger's dormitory door. It would have been so easy to knock on the wood dividing them instead of leaving the common space. It would have been so easy to bury all these thoughts by pulling her close and pushing her down onto her bed, but they couldn't be found out. They couldn't be anything real, anything that anyone knew about. They were so different, no matter what the war, or Voldemort, or Azkaban, or Hermione had done to him. He could easily admit that she deserved something so much more than a Death Eater, and even if she forgot that, the world would never let her. Scandal was a soft word for what a relationship between the two of them would mean, so what exactly were they doing?

He sighed again as he faltered for the first time, realizing that he had ended up in some tower or another. He spun around to gain his bearings only to notice that he was being followed. He pushed his hands into his pockets and waited as Theo moved closer.

"What are you doing?" Theo asked, and Draco shrugged, his expression stony.

"Nothing. I just needed a walk," he said.

Theo stopped in front of him, glanced over to the nearby window and out at the dark forest. "You know, I'm trying." Draco wanted to push back, to insist that he didn't need Theo, or anyone else to try. He was perfectly fine, but that was a lie.

"You don't have to," he said instead.

"I know I don't fucking have to," Theo growled, his calm facade shattering as his fists clenched. "You aren't the only one that is trying to figure out where the fuck to go from this shit situation."

"I know," Draco began, but Theo swung his hand into the air.

"No, you don't know, Draco," Theo spat. "You spend your days with Granger, who seems to have forgiven you for some completely insane fucking reason, and locked in your room, and you ignore the rest of it, the rest of us. I don't get that luxury. I know I wasn't as involved as you, but I'm still one of them whether they burned their mark in my skin or not, so stop being a fucking martyr and grow up."

"I'm not-"

"You are. I'm done with it. I don't want to be your crony, and I don't want to fight with you and Blaise over whatever idiotic status bullshit he seems to want." Theo stared at the window again, his cheeks dark even in the faint light.

Draco watched him closely, his mind sputtering as he considered Theo's words. He had seemed to genuinely attempt to build some sort of friendship over the past few months, and his father had been arrested and put into Azkaban the same as Draco's. It was possible that he only wanted a friend, someone who understood what it was like to be him.

"Okay," Draco said, deciding that he was going to have to trust someone eventually. It may as well be Theodore Nott.

"Okay," Theo repeated.

XXX

Monday, November 9th, 1998

Hermione was reading as she walked down the hallway to her tutoring appointment with Draco. They were taking the day off practical lessons, so she was meeting him in the abandoned classroom they had taken over for snogging and studying. It seemed that last week the snogging had somehow become more important than the studying, and she was intent on changing that. She knew that they needed to focus on his lessons, but he made it so damn hard when his hands touched her skin. She could still remember the way he had felt as he had moved inside of her just over a week ago, and a large part of her was desperate to feel that connection again. The moments stolen in the classroom were not the same. They were heavy and satisfying in a different way, but they didn't provide the open intimacy that she had experienced when they had been bare to each other in his room. She was intent that they would get back to business, that she would be firm and insist that they complete his work before any touching was allowed. She would sit on the opposite side of the desk instead of next to him. She would keep her robes on because he seemed unable to keep his eyes from drifting across her body.

This plan, however, went to total shit the moment the Prophet landed in front of her at breakfast, though she wasn't aware of it. She scanned the paper quickly as she had done every day since meeting with Lavender, and today it was there. The front cover sported an image of Lavender Brown, her scars prominent across her neck. Hermione had to resist the urge to reach out and touch the image. She could easily imagine how Ron had come to blame himself and feel responsible for this horrible reality. Lavender had been fragile and cute before, but something in her eyes confirmed what her words had already told Hermione. The girl was gone. In her place, a stronger, more confident woman sat, her smile filled with determination. Hermione thought the only word to fit the image was beautiful.

She ate her breakfast quickly and then excused herself to go to her tutoring appointment. As she walked, she read the article, happy to find that Lavender had taken nearly all of her suggestions. Hermione hoped that she would take her suggestion of writing a book as well. Her words were stirring, blasting the community at large for their demonization, ignorance, and segregation of Werewolves. Lavender claimed forcefully that it was this stigma that had led Werewolves to feel like they must fight for any right to power and ownership in the world, a feeling that had led to monsters like Greyback who would attack for sport, destroying lives without concern. It was sure to begin a discussion. A book would ensure it continued.

Hermione was nearly done with the article as she arrived in the room that she and Draco had been using. She pushed the knob open with one hand as she stared down reading the paper clutched in her other hand. The moment she closed the door behind her, the paper was crumpled against her chest. She released it as her back hit the wall, and her lips were nearly assaulted by Draco's. She let out a startled gasp which was lost as his tongue swirled effortlessly around hers. Hermione dropped her bag, not caring that several somethings fell out of it and onto the floor. Draco's hands were on her robes then, pushing them away from her body, and she scooted closer to him to let it fall behind her. His fingers dug into her thighs next, pulling them up as her back hit stone again. Her feet crossed behind his back and one hand moved up to pull at her shirt.

"Fuck," he hissed before his mouth slid feverishly down her throat. Hermione pulled at her tie, loosening it and tossing it down at his feet. Draco sucked at her throat above her shirt, and Hermione pushed him back, knowing that he would leave a mark. She pulled at the buttons, revealing the curves of her breasts to him. He dived, devouring the soft skin, which was more easily covered by her shirt, with grazing teeth and eager kisses. Hermione let out a moan, and her head hit the wall. She had not expected this. He had never once sprung on her like this. He had waited patiently, biding his time until they were working to gently coerce her into a break. This was new, and this was making her want him even more than she already had.

"Draco," she sighed, her fingers reaching for his hair, gripping it tightly.

"Fuck your rule, Hermione. Please," he responded. His hand moved under her skirt, demonstrating exactly what he was after by sliding a finger down the front of her knickers, and she was inclined to not give a damn. What did it matter really if they had sex in his bed or here in this room?

"Lock the door," she told him, and he let out a sound of triumph. He settled her feet back to the ground and pulled out his wand to lock the door. Hermione became aware of her wildly thumping heart as she watched him, knowing what she had just agreed to. She wanted it, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking to actually be doing it … again.

Draco spun the moment his charms were in place and dropped his wand in a needless show that he didn't care about anything but her in that moment. She could see his eyes now. They were burning ice, a contradiction she wasn't sure she would have ever used before this moment. He stalked back to her, and she let out a horrible, stupid giggle as he pushed her back towards the teacher's desk. "I've wanted to do this all week," he told her.

"Me too," she admitted, not sure why she had ever thought sex on a desk was undignified. It sounded exquisite in the moment. Draco grinned as if he had known that she would eventually be letting him lift her onto the wooden surface, his fingers crawling under the sides of her knickers to pull them down. She lifted her bum to allow him to remove them, and he seemed to tremble, though she wasn't sure if he was as nervous as she was or just anxious to be inside of her again.

He pulled off her shoes in the same motions as her underwear, shoving her skirt up to her waist as she pulled her shirt off. One of his hands moved up her body to pull one breast free. His tongue circled her nipple and she arched her chest into his mouth, the sensation shot down her belly and between her legs. The hand still resting on her left thigh slid across her skin until his fingers were moving up her slit, no doubt finding her wet and ready for him. He groaned against her breast as two of his fingers buried themselves inside of her.

Hermione reached for his trousers, unable to pretend like she wasn't anxious for him. Draco let her fumble with his belt and shove at his trousers and pants. They fell to his shoes, and neither of them seemed interested in taking the time to remove them properly. Draco took a step closer to her, and Hermione's fingers slid around his cock, positioning him at her opening. He removed his hand, leaving her aching to be filled again. As he pushed inside of her, she repositioned, gripping the edge of the desk with her hands. Draco paused when he was fully inside of her, both of them hardly breathing from the satisfaction of the sensation.

When he began to rock against her, Hermione's eyes fell shut as she focused on the movement, letting her mind shut off anything outside of this moment. She had been driving herself mad wondering what this all meant and what Draco was thinking, but she didn't care right now. She would figure that all out later. All she wanted and needed was this here with him, the utter bliss of losing herself in him and knowing that he understood her in a way that no one else ever had. It was freeing in a way she had rarely ever experienced. He moved his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, and she gave into him entirely, trying to relay all of these thoughts to him with her body.

XXX

Saturday, November 14th, 1998

Ginny was flat against the wood of her broom. As she breathed in deeply, she could smell the ebony of the handle mixing with sweat, mud, and windy rain that flew loose pieces of her hair back against her ears. She was inches from the Snitch, her fingers stretched straight out in front of her as her knee brushed against the Slytherin Seeker's head. She briefly considered moving her leg to knock him off course, but it wasn't necessary. The very tip of her middle finger touched the wing of the Snitch moments before she clutched the golden ball in her palm. The rush of blood and wind pounded in her ears as she let out a jubilant sound of celebration that ended up somewhere between a grunt and a whoop as she readjusted her course for the ground. As she began to slow her pace, she could hear the thunder of cheers spreading through the crowd.

Her feet touched the sodden dirt with a squelch a moment before she was engulfed with multiple limbs, her hearing all but destroyed by the screams of her teammates. She felt joy, true unfiltered, untouched, joy, coursing through her veins and settling in her heated cheeks. They had won. Everything had been against them, and they had done it anyway.

"Ginny!" she heard his voice and turned immediately, her arms already reaching for him. Harry pulled her in tight, kissing her hard amidst the shouting and catcalls. "That was amazing," he told her as she pulled back. His hand ran through his soaking hair as water ran down his glasses. He was smiling, and it looked genuine. She stared at him, knowing that she needed to savor this perfect moment between them. She was so glad that he had made the trip here for this, if only because it gave her this moment.

"Thanks," she leaned in to kiss him again, but stopped as his eyes moved behind her, and his jaw dropped.

"I was under the impression you were a Chaser," a voice said behind her. Ginny turned, spinning back towards the voice, and then she knew why Harry had been stunned. Gwenog Jones was standing behind them, a small smile on her face. Beside her, one of the Slytherin Beaters stood with a sullen expression on his face. The Holyhead Harpies Captain reached out her hand, and Ginny took it, still in amazement. "I'm Gwenog."

"Yes, I know," Ginny sputtered, knowing that she sounded like an idiot and not really able to care. This was Gwenog Jones, holding her hand and speaking real words to her.

"So, Professor McGonagall told me you were a Chaser," she said again. The boy beside her shifted his feet, and Ginny glanced over at him confused by his presence and the news that Professor McGonagall was talking about her to Gwenog Jones. "This is my brother." Gwenog clapped the boy on the back. "He doesn't like to claim me."

"There will be no doing that now, will there?" the boy grumbled.

"Oh, shut it." Gwenog rolled her eyes at his words and turned back to Ginny.

"My Seeker landed himself in detention this morning. I played Seeker for Harry last year, so I just did some shifting," Ginny explained. Gwenog moved forward to extend a hand to Harry, who shook it, but her eyes moved quickly back to Ginny.

"You're damn good on that thing," the older woman told her, motioning to the broom at her side.

"I've been flying all my life," Ginny told her.

"The Headmistress seems to think you might want to make a career of it." Gwenog shrugged as if it didn't matter to her at all, but the boy rolled his eyes.

"She wants to give you a trial," he told Ginny bluntly.

"What?" Harry asked, his amazement and excitement palpable. Ginny felt her heart stall momentarily before it began to beat so loudly, everyone in the pitch must have heard it.

As she glared down at her brother, Gwenog nodded. "He is tactless but correct. I'd love to give you a trial after graduation. McGonagall has owled me about three players in the past few years. I've put every one of them on my team."

Ginny struggled for words as her world shifted, clicking in places that she hadn't realized were bothering her. "Yes, of course, I would love to," she said, still sure she sounded like an idiot.

"Great," Gwenog told her, "Pleasure to meet you both." She nodded at Harry, and then she was walking through the mud towards the Headmistress, her brother on her heels.

Harry chuckled beside her, and Ginny looked up at him. "What?" she asked.

"It was kind of nice to be ignored. You better be damn good at Quidditch and get loads of fans. I liked it." She shook her head at him, laughing, but she knew that somewhere inside of him, being ignored by the vast majority of people was all he really wanted.


A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY. This took forever. Writer's block and family drama. SORRY.

I hope you loved it! I hope I get my stuff together and don't take forever again. SORRY.

Also, find me on Tumblr if you want to be able to see updates and ask questions. It's easier to respond to people on there quickly from my phone. It's goldensnitch-18.

You are all amazing, and if you haven't seen it, I wrote you a love letter on Tumblr also. You can find it by going to my page and searching for love letter.

SORRY again. If I say it a bunch of times in all caps maybe it will make up for this ridiculous delay.

LOVE YOU.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Meg