Hello children, long ago, *cough cough* or if we're actually calculating time, less than a year ago, I started this fic and got an odd amount of hate for it. I recently re-read my work and was really impressed with myself so I'm going to try and continue it again.

And this is my work btw. So to the people who commented saying that it wasn't or that I'm acting funny with it- no. This is the authors only account and the only place this has been posted. Thank you very little.

Thank you very much to the people who commented encouraging things- you're very sweet and the reason I'm writing this!

So without further ado...

Draco woke before Granger.

No fucking surprise there since she was thrown around the great hall not too long ago.

Merlin if he hadn't thought Potter was a fucking nut case before. Speaking of that whole debacle, he would have to make the best of the retched situation that was his matrimony to the boy-who-lived girlfriend. Draco had already attempted to petition the court in every way he possibly could, so that he might be wed to anyone else.

No Bueno. Not to mention his other legal troubles since the war ended.

Sadly, being a death eater and an accomplice to the death of Albus Dumbledore wasn't something he could fully detach himself from no matter how many times he said he didn't recognize Potter to his crazy aunt. Yes, Draco faced legal retribution in the form of being on magical parol, meaning he only had access to a wand during classes.

Other than that he got off almost free if his mother being on house arrest and his father being locked away for life looked free.

He looked down at Granger with a snarl, she had gotten so... pretty. Don't give him that look, it was the fucking truth, she was aesthetically appealing these days and he didn't know how to feel about it. She had gotten a proper fucking haircut and it made her look- well non-granger-y. At least her fucking attitude was the same. Her egregious bookworm persona was perhaps darker than before the war but otherwise, she remained the same lunatic that punched him in the third year and had gotten between him and Potter in the Great hall the other night.

Frankly, he was more than sure she had some sort of 'mental illness- as the muggles called it since usually her safety was far down on her list of concerns. Perhaps that's just a symptom of being a Gryffindor. Anyway, she was technically his responsibility now and Malfoys don't shirk. So he had stayed by her bedside braving a menagerie of wild Gryffindors and Loony Lovegoods alike.

It was too bad she was a mudblood; other than her unfortunate blood status and her more than annoying friends, she was a notable witch. But things are how they are and far from Draco to stray from the flock.

He got out of bed, planning to go down for some breakfast. He had changed clothes when Granger had gone to sleep, not everyone had the pleasure of being brought pajamas by the female Weasley. So he was only in pajama bottoms when he heard a loud knock.

Draco rolled his eyes and went to open it, more than annoyed when he had to look at Potter's face this early in the morning. The-boy-who-wouldn't-fucking-die looked taken aback by Malfoy's appearance and fixed his face into a hardened expression. He was wearing what looked like his own pajamas under a robe that almost hid that fact. He had dark circles under his eyes and had his hand over a pocket Draco could tell was housing a wand. Draco was also sure that Potter could see the scar he had so kindly given him in 6th year, fully exposed, it cut up his abdomen and stood out against his pale skin.

And surely, he was aware of the sleeping quarters in his room and could assume Draco was sharing a bed with Granger in his current state of undress.

"Potter." Draco sighed, "unpleasant to see you this early."

"Where's Hermione," Potter said, trying to look around Malfoy into their room. Draco almost felt bad for Potter, almost.

"She's asleep." Draco smirked at him, "long night." He implied. Honestly, this was the best thing about being attached to Granger. Draco was sure he could see a blood vessel explode in Potter's head right then and there. "I'll tell her you stopped by... or maybe you'll just see her at breakfast, she's got be hungry after-."

"-Malfoy stop it," Came a sleepy feminine voice, Granger pushed past him and Draco stepped behind her, smiling cheekily at Potter all the while. "what is it, Harry?" Could Draco hear a hint of frustration in Granger's voice?

"I came down to the hospital wing this morning and you were gone." Potter said in a guilty voice, "You spent the night here?" Granger rolled her eyes.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"N-no," stuttered the boy who beat Voldemort.

"Then I'll see you at breakfast," Granger said and shut the door, she turned around to face him, her eyes welling with tears.

Malfoy looked down at Granger, "Making friends?" He poked.

"You know, you provoking him was what got us into this situation in the first place." Granger spat at him.

"Granger, I could care fucking less about what situation you're in." Malfoy almost laughed- his tone shifting, "And there is no 'us'. Got it?"

"Got it." Granger snarled.

Malfoy walked down to breakfast alone, thank god. He found the Slytherin table quickly and was immediately disgruntled by the appearance of a Weasley in his seat. The female Weasel was chatting with none other than Theodore Nott. It seemed like neither one of the Slytherins got very lucky.

"Theodore," Draco drawled, "your guest is in my seat," Nott rolled his eyes.

"We don't have 'seats', Malfoy,"

"Yes, we do," Chimed in Pansy from across the table.

"Nobody asked you, Parkinson," Theo said annoyed, "Malfoy, sit next to Pansy and brood like you usually do," Draco muttered incoherently for a second but did end up sitting next to Pansy.

Because he wanted to.

"So... Ginny, is it?" Draco turned his head to the carrot head, "Guess I can't call you Weasley anymore... Ginny Nott," He said, pretending to mull over the name, "has a ring to it, doesn't it?

Girl Weasel sighed giving him a nasty look. "You know what I'm known for, Malfoy?"

"You don't want me to answer that," Draco suggested crudely.

"The Bat-Bogey hex, Malfoy, I'm good at it." Ginny eyed down the blond for a moment, "See you later, Theo," She said, standing up. Theo gave her a weak wave as she walked over to the Gryffindor table.

When Draco got up to sit next to Nott he was smacked harshly in the back of the head.

"What was that for!" Draco clutched his noggin, feigning pain

"Fucking Pratt," Theo said, taking a big sip of coffee.

Malfoy looked to the other side of the great hall where the redhead had recently sat and spied half of Gryffindor's house looking at him like he'd murdered all of their lions. He shot a glare at the leader of their stupid show of dominance, none other than his morning annoyance. Man, you'd think he married their princess or something.

Speak of the devil and she will arrive.

Mrs. Nott as he would now call her, rushed to help her friend into the dining area, causing more people to look over than probably would have otherwise. Granger waved her off and limped into the great hall. Merlin if he could frame Potter's face right now he would hang it on a wall. The poor idiot was looking intently at his porridge while everyone except the Gryffindors gave him looks and whispered under their breath. You know for someone as popular as him he was often and widely disliked.

When Malfoy was done with breakfast he hurried to class. While Potter was struggling for breath socially, Malfoy had drowned long ago; not just at Hogwarts but in the wizarding world entirely. While he wasn't given the cold shoulder by the Slytherins at his table, everyone else in school felt differently. He was a monster to them, still a deatheater.

While he sat in potions, listening to Snape drone on, his mind wandered to the other day. While Granger was doing acrobatics in the great hall, McGonagall explained in depth the extent of the law. It was based around continuing the magical community in Britain and would last for 10 years. During this time, all adults would be married to other adult citizens of magical Great Britain, the perimeters were only really for age. For example people ages 50 and older were excluded from the law, and people would only be matched up with those who were 7 years younger or older. Furthermore, every five years of marriage partners are expected to have 1 child together. This would be doable if it wasn't for the last part of the law. That all couples must live in the same residency and reside (sleep) within 5 meters of one another. This would be controlled by magical contracts they would have to sign before they left Hogwarts.

He decided he would let Granger figure this out through her little friends since he didn't care enough and was sure they would inform her accordingly.

Draco was sure that Granger would live with him, she would have to get over any hang-ups she had about... last year. His mother was redecorating anyhow and had insisted that everything be different. It kind of puts a damper on the home when you've actively been tortured and held prisoner where you're trying to have tea.

She would live with him in his wing of the house- but she would be given a room to keep personal belongings and whatnot, spend her days when she's not... reading or whatever Granger does.

He would also have to talk to her about appearance and wardrobe while she's living with him, give her however many galleons she required to at least look like a Malfoy. The clothes he'd seen her in the paper as of late weren't terrible, war reparations and money for saving the world had to help there.

He looked at Potter who was whispering to Weasley about something, the redhead shook his head vehemently and while not directly looking in Malfoy's direction, his head and body language signaled to Draco they were talking about him.

Draco's jaw tightened, another altercation with that no-good ingrate was going to give him a migraine. Heaven help him if he was going to have to start dealing with the Weasel King as well.

"Turn to page 213," said Snape's monotone voice as Draco looked for his best escape route. Potter and Weasley were blocking his access to the door, his only friend close enough to help him was Blaize Zabini who would rather watch the altercation than help Draco avoid it.

He had never missed the presence of Crabbe and Goyle more.

At the end of class, Draco decided he would wait for the pea brains out. He would risk the potential conversation with his godfather if it meant getting away from dumb and stupider. Sadly, even after waiting for five minutes, he found himself trapped in the hallway with Romeo and Mercutio, (yes Shakespeare was a wizard).

"Want to see if you can hit the target this time," Malfoy deadpanned as he confronted the two. "Granger is on the other side of school so it will be easier to miss her." He saw Potter's eye twitch.

"We're here to talk to you about consequences, Malfoy." the redhead beside him spoke, drawing attention away from Potter, "What will happen if you hurt Hermione." Merlin save him.

"I don't want your girlfriend," Draco rolled his eyes, "The situation was quite literally forced on me, not that you bozo's weren't already aware of that little fact." Malfoy sighed. "Look I can tell that two dodo birds such as yourselves have a hard time grasping this so let me explain it to you for the first and final time. I am not interested in molesting your bird's nest of a friend, I'd rather claw my own eyes out. So can you two bugger the fuck off?"

"If you touch her-" Potter started,

"Didn't I just explain to you idiots that's what I don't want to do?" Draco said exasperated. "I. do not. want. to. fuck. Hermione. bloody. Granger. End of discussion."

"You wouldn't want to sully the Malfoy line, huh?" Potter said, a disgusted look on his face.

Sweet Merlin.

"Yes Potter, you've hit the nail on the head. May I leave now?" Draco didn't wait for his response, pushing past the two.

He headed down the hallway in the opposite direction, taking the longer route if it meant he could get the ginger-haired tag along and the forehead of wonder out of his line of sight. Draco's on-parol wand had a timer on it as soon as he stepped out of the general vicinity of the classroom. Meaning, Draco had about ten minutes to get to Transfiguration before his wand would stop working altogether, (or at least until a ministry employee had time to reset the spell). If Draco were to try and leave the school grounds or cast any spells during this time his wand would all but spontaneously combust.

Walking down the crowded hallways the seas of students parted for him. Before, Draco would have seen this as a sign of respect, 'as you should,' he might have thought. Now, people were afraid to speak his name and look him in the eyes, whispers followed him wherever he went and eyes watched as he did the mundane tasks everyone else was doing. Draco hoped they all choked to death.

As he neared McGonagall's classroom someone shouted out his name.

Draco turned his head to see Gryffindor red and a flash of purple light before he felt a burning throbbing pain on the right side of his abdomen where the spell hit him. Frantically he pulled up his shirt and looked down in horror to see a bubbling festering wound. Draco's first thought was his wand. Heal himself, fight back! His mind screamed, but he knew he was unable to. Speaking of which he needed to make it inside the classroom before the timer on his wand fucked him.

He stumbled the 5 meters into McGonagalls room before tossing his wand to the bewildered teacher and promptly peeled over.

Draco groaned and clutched his stomach in agony as people were screaming around him, if he hadn't been tortured before he would have blacked out from the blinding pain but lucky for him, right? He felt himself being levitated into the air and heard the urgent teacher voice of McGonagal shouting- though it was incoherent to him. Weren't he and Granger a pair? Sadly, another wave of pain practically blinded him. With the torture curse, you could find comfort in the fact it wasn't physical pain, that you couldn't pinpoint where you were hurting. This curse however was drawing all attention to his side, and Draco knew it was boiling his skin.

Someone cast a sleeping charm on him as he let out a particularly painful-sounding scream, and he drifted into sweet unconsciousness.

Hermione thought about Theo's offer. Could she be strong? Wasn't she already? Even though she put on a false sense of bravado, she couldn't tell anymore. She didn't even know what it meant or how to act it. Was Dumbledore strong? Was Voldemort? Both of them are dead. Is strength found in sacrifice? Does that mean Remus Lupin and Lily Potter were strong for throwing themselves into the line of fire? Was Harry strong for walking into the forbidden forest? Would he be stronger if he just fought?

Hermione had a problem with curiosity, her muggle doctors called it OCD.

She couldn't put down a book until she finished it, needed things to be orderly- whether they were objects or people, and she just couldn't stand the thought of being dirty.

Her curiosity made her obsessive, pushed her until she broke, and never let her let a lead grow cold. It was what people admired most about her, but it made living in a world where 'anything is possible,' utterly maddening.

It had gotten worse after the war, when she had locked herself in her room and chased endless loose ends found in the pages of dusty books. She couldn't sleep if something was evading her. And something always was. Perhaps that was why divination was so difficult for her to believe to be true. Everything was guessed and interpreted and nothing could or would be fact.

So, when Theo Nott asked her if she'd be interested in power... It made her utterly curious. Foaming at the mouth would be a more correct phrase.

Hermione wanted to hunt Nott down, force Veritaserum down his throat, and hold a quill in her hand to write down whatever he was hiding. She probably couldn't do that though.

Hermione, as many had told her before, would have to let it go. Easier said than done. Hermione flicked her door open with her wand and marched outside her apartment. She would just ask Nott some follow-up questions.

First, though she would visit Madam Pomfrey since she promised she would before going to any classes or otherwise exerting herself.

As she walked down the halls whispers followed her. Were people still so concerned about the other day? Things hadn't been so bad this morning when she got breakfast with the lot of them.

She heard them before she saw them, but the footsteps of her two best friends ran up to her as she marched to her destination.

"Where are you going, 'mione," Came the out-of-breath voice of Ronald Weasley.

"The hospital wing," waved off Hermione, "shouldn't you two be in class?" She asked them pointedly.

"We wanted to-" Hermione turned to look at her black-haired friend and he froze for a second before continuing, "W-We wanted to tell you that it wasn't us." Hermione was confused.

"Of course, it was you, Harry," Hermione said, "You don't need to deny it, like I told you this morning, I forgive you."

"No Hermione, I promise you," Harry reiterated profusely, "It wasn't me. I know we threatened him this morning but we had to, to protect you. It was someone else who cursed Malfoy."

"Malfoy's been cursed?!" Hermione gasped,

"You didn't know?" Ron said surprised, "He was hit by a pretty serious spell."

"I have to go," Hermione said, pushing past them. She practically ran, ignoring the pain.

Down to the hospital wing she went, her mind racing. Though only one question played in her head. Why did she care? One day of being attached to Malfoy and she was rushing to his bedside? Was this normal? No. None of this was normal.

When she got there, she knocked hard on the door and when it opened, Madam Pomfrey ushered her inside.

Malfoy was paler than before, he looked worse than he did in sixth year and that was saying a lot. She walked over cautiously.

"Mrs. Malfoy-" Madam Pomfrey spoke, Hermione turned around, thinking she'd see Malfoy's mother, but realized her new title and turned back to face the healer. "Hermione. He was hit by a rarer spell."

"What are the effects?" Hermione asked, her eyes fixed on the boy in front of her.

"They won't be long lasting, and the wound will heal with little scaring." Madam Pomfrey said.

Hermione eyed his other scars, and inched closer, his lower torso was covered in bandages and his eyes were closed, peacefully enough.

"Have you written to his mother?" she asked the healer, Madam Pomfrey nodded. "What sorts of pain potions is he on? Any with side effects?"

"You should sit," the older woman motioned, "you shouldn't be worrying after breaking as many bones as you did." Hermione took the chair next to Malfoy's bedside and without thinking she moved the hair from his face like she would Harry's. While her hand was there, she pressed a palm to his forehead, checking for a fever.

"I'll leave you two alone," Madam Pomfrey said, and closed the drapes around his bed.

"What a pair we are, Malfoy," Hermione smiled sadly, who had done this to him? "This marriage has been bad for both of our healths."

She didn't touch him after that, just stared at his face at rest, he was under so much potion he probably had never been more relaxed in his life. Hermione understood the hypocrisy, her, relaxed? She didn't know the meaning of the word.

He was so handsome, objectively of course. He had a very symmetrical face, a lean and athletic body, and hair the perfect short ashy blond. He could be a muggle model, and she could imagine him posing in the most expensive brands. His breath was deep and steady, and each exhale reassured her just a little more. As she looked at him, she made up her mind.

She would find the culprit.

Hours passed, but her gaze didn't falter, not at least until she heard a newly familiar voice.

"Already so infatuated?" Asked Theo Nott, stepping from the shadows. "Poor Malfoy, all he's ever wanted was your attention and now that he has it, he's not even awake." Hermione couldn't help it, she had to hide her excitement. Her questions were about to be answered.

"You talk about it like he was in love with me." Hermione said softly, "We hate each other."

"Oh Granger, there's a fine line between the two." Theo crossed the room to sit across from her, and for a second they both looked at each other over Malfoy's body. "He's a prick, I've never liked him." Said Theo after a second. "We all act like we do, of course. It's easier to bend to the worst of us. I've always taken the easy route, Granger. Always played it safe."

"It's the Slytherin in you," Hermione responded, suddenly she didn't feel so excited.

"Do you know how Malfoy's father avoided the kiss?" Nott asked her, Hermione shook her head, that type of Information wasn't even accessible to her. "Well, he agreed to give up a couple of other wizards, including my father. Who, I don't know if you know, killed himself a couple of weeks into his sentence."

"But you said Slytherins killed him in the war," Hermione questioned, her heart beating quickly in her chest,

"I lied." He laughed, "I hated the bastard but like I said. Fine line." Hermione eyed him nervously, "I can't hurt Lucius in prison," Nott said.

"But you can hurt his son," Hermione whispered.

"Exactly!" Theo praised her, "Exactly. So smart, you are so smart." He licked his lips, "So I have a little proposition for you, Hermione Malfoy." He took out his wand from his pocket and observed it, standing up so he was looking down on her. "Join me. Or the next time I dress up in Gryffindor robes, the spell will be fatal."

Fuck.

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