No author's note. Just read

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Dear Miss Hermione Granger,

Due to your excellent marks at Hogwarts, you are invited to join our staff as the new Transfiguration professor. Our current professor will be taking place as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry because of the retirement of Headmaster Dumbledore. Please consider this offer very carefully, and reply as soon as possible.

Best Regards,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

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Draco's stomach grumbled.

But he didn't move.

He was grounded for life. No food, no Quidditch, no 'hanging out.'

Now, he stared at the ceiling, wondering what he had done. No, he remembered what he had done. His bed was taken away, and the only thing left was a desk, chair, and rug. He had one bathroom break.

DRACO MALFOY! HOW DARE YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?

Nobody had gone to the train station to pick Draco up. He had to secretly tag along with Blaise and floo himself back by Blaise's fireplace. His mother would have never let Draco into the house. When he got home, his mother whacked him with a broom and screamed for him to get out.

YOU ARE SUCH A FAILURE! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? AFTER ALL WE'VE DONE FOR YOU! AND YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT NOW! IT'S TOO LATE! GET OUT! YOU ARE NOT MY SON! OUT! OUT!

Draco got on his knees and begged like a panhandler on the streets of London. He had begged for hours and hours until the mother fainted and was taken to her room. Draco took the chance to escape to his room to find everything except his desk and carpet gone. When his mother regained consciousness, she told-more like screamed-him that he was grounded for life, and he would get over 10 NEWTS when he went back. No minuses, no 'Acceptable.' He had to be Outstanding. Outstanding? It was new to him.

So now, he saw the point of the desk. He was to study 24/7 the whole summer.

But Malfoys just didn't do that. Malfoys fooled around all the time, rolling around in their money.

Draco was a Malfoy no more. He had been stripped from his Malfoyness when he made his decision-the stupid decision.

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"What are you planning going to do now?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sprawled out in the living room, drinking away at their butter beers, chomping on some sweet delights, and making a mess of the living room of the Order. They were, as their excuse, graduated and stressed out teenagers who have just defeated the most powerful and threatening 'dark lord.'

Of course, they should be allowed to fool around the summer while everyone else bustled busily around them.

"I don't know. I guess I've got to start doing the auror thing." Harry threw his leg on the backrest of the couch. "What about you?"

"No idea. Maybe I'll follow dad around the ministry. Or I can do the auror thing with you. Or, I can help Fred and George with the shop. Depends." Ron burped. "Excuse me."

"Yeah… hey you think I should go teach at Hogwarts?" Hermione's nest of curls got lost somewhere in the carpet as she slammed another bottle of butter beer on the susceptible table.

"Huh?"

"I got this letter that asked me to teach Transfiguration, but I'm not sure. I mean, after all those hard seven years, do I really want to go back? And I've never done a minute of teaching before… I'll just be sitting there with a bunch of old professors, and it'll make me feel bad."

"Wait… you got asked to teach?" Harry's leg came falling down as he stretched his back to ask Hermione.

"What? How come I didn't get a letter?" Ron inched up on the sofa. "We worked as hard as you did… sort of."

"Yeah. And what happened to McGonagall?"

"That's PROFESSOR McGonagall, and she happens to be in the room right next to us, dufus. She's the new headmistress. Dumbledore's putting all his energy to this Order now."

"What? But Voldemort's dead!" Harry sat up.

"Don't ask. How should I know? But do you really think I should go?" Hermione chugged her fifth bottle of butter beer. "I wonder if they'll mind if we sneak in some fire whiskey…"

"Of course you should take the offer! You're just out of school, and if you get offered to even be some kind of room service maid at the Leaky Cauldron, it's an achievement! But… a full time professor? Dude, you're SMART." Ron exclaimed. "Yeah, I'll like some fire whiskey…"

"Don't bother. Your mother will never let us. She'll go ballistic on us." Harry slurred lazily.

"So I should go?"

"Yeah. That'll be a good idea. And you can watch over Ginny while you're there and make sure no guy even touches her."

"All right. I'll make sure she makes out with every boy in their seventh year."

"Who? Me? Don't trouble yourself, 'Mione, I've already done that. I'm trying to score on the really hot Ravenclaw, though. Apparently, he loves his books more than some good loving." Ginny cavorted down the stairs with a Potions book in her hands. "What are you guys doing around here? Don't you have something to do?"

"No." they said unanimously.

"Oh. You've got the 'I-just-graduated-itis,' huh? Need anything? Butter beer? Fire whiskey?" Ginny plopped down on a free couch.

"You read our minds. But first, how would you like it if I was the new Transfiguration teacher?" Hermione asked.

"Are you serious? That's bloody fantastic! You can give me an easy Outstanding right? How awesome! I would LOVE that."

"You won't let her pass that easily, right? You never did that with me…" Ron whined.

"She wasn't a professor then, dummy. Remember? She's the same age as you!" The sibling sneered at each other until Ginny popped up and announced, "Did you hear? Draco Malfoy FAILED! Apparently, he didn't take any of his NEWT tests so he has to go back for ANOTHER year.

Hermione bolted up.

"What?"

"Yeah! I heard it from Dean who heard it from Seamus who heard it from Parvati who heard it from Patil who heard it from Hannah who heard it from Luna who overheard Draco telling Blaise. Isn't that the most… WONDERFUL thing ever? Haha! He deserves it! That little git…"

There was a faint whimpering. It was Draco Malfoy.

'Is that why…'

"Can't you tell when somebody is distressed? This isn't something the goody-goody head girl can't fix."

"Have a fantastic feast. Have a bloody fucking fantastic feast."

'Malfoy failed. That's why he's been…'

A cruel and evil smile crept up on Hermione's face.

'And I'm going to be his professor.'

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There were black circles under his eyes as Draco pulled himself out of bed. It was September 1, and it was time for school. Oh, goody.

There was a mountain of books on his desk. He had promised himself and his mother that he would be an outstanding student, just like that mudblood Granger. No food, no bed, and no fun for the whole summer… or so he thought.

He made food out of potions and transfigured little things into a meal. He transfigured a piece of paper into a bed. And he found fun in the books, or some of them. Yet, he needed something. He couldn't find the word…

Ah, love.

Not only did he miss MAKING love, but also to BE loved. He half expected and hoped in the beginning of his imprisonment that his mother would find it in her heart to let him out and to embrace him and smother him with kisses. But she never did.

He could have gotten himself out again, but he was scared. Not scared, more like ambitious. It was his punishment, but he was set on making his mother see that he could do it. He could manage on his own without her feeding him or supplying him with fancy glories.

Now, it was time for the new beginning, and he was starting alone. He did not want to even look at his mother. He couldn't after what he had done to her, and she had done to him. He pulled out an old ratty pair of jeans, which were the best he had, and a plain shirt and jacket from his trunk, which acted as his closet. He had not been able to learn how to transfigure objects into a closet yet. He crept into the bathroom, and prettied himself up. It was five AM.

What was he going to do until 9?

Oh yeah, read. Read, read, read, that's all he's done the whole summer.

Slowly and ever so carefully, he put each book and supply inside his trunk once more. He pulled out his wand. "Locomotor trunks." Immediately, his cases rose up about half a meter. "Alohamora." The door swung open and his trunks were directed to the front hall. Draco put a toe on the stair when he had an urge.

An urge to make his mother open her eyes to see the man that he had become over the past 2 months.

Mother-

So you lock me up, throwing away the key, and you block me from the rest of the world. I admit. It is my punishment and it was fair. But I was shocked that you did not even have the heart to wonder how I was. I hear noises and sounds from my room, but I don't hear noises and sounds to my room. I know I do not deserve to live with such wonderful fittings, but you, out of all the people, should have tried to console me. Do you not know of all the tears that I have shed? Did you not think of what was going through my mind and my heart as you screamed and when I got to my senses? In my prison cell, I've contemplated and even attempted suicide. But I did not do it. Why? It was only to show you that I am a man. I have grown up. And I can thank you for it. You've humbled me greatly.

People make mistakes, mother.

And I'm afraid I am human.

Thank you

Draco Malfoy

Draco tip-toed to his mother's master bedroom and placed the letter on the bedside stand. His eyes lingered.

His mother was lying in deep sleep. Her face was half its usual size. Her fingers were gently draped over her pillow. Draco could not keep himself as he leaned over to feel the warm breathing of his mother's slumber. Softly, he placed a small kiss on her cheek.

"Good bye mother."

He closed the door soundlessly and fled down the stairs. The house was empty. There was only a single sofa replacing the grand velvet furniture set that once stood in the mansion.

Draco sighed. It was his entire fault. He took a few pebbles from the porch and transfigured them into more couches and rugs.

'No… she can't live a full year with only these furniture. She needs money. She needs food.' Hesitantly, Draco reached inside the pocket of his jacket and retrieved a small silver key. His key to his very own Gringotts vault. He placed it on the new antique table and finally left.

Surprisingly, he was very satisfied.

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"Robes?"

"Check"

"Clothes?"

"Check"

"Books?"

"Check"

"Papers?"

"Check"

"Socks?"

"Err… Check"

"Wand?"

"Check"

"Condoms?"

"Ch- Ginny!"

"Just kidding, just kidding! Take a joke, 'Mione!" The two girls fell into a shower of laughs. "Oh! It's going to be so fun having you around! And I get to laugh at you while you teach and spread nasty rumors…"

"Ginny…"

"Joking… The only rumor I'm going to spread about you is that you slept with Harry."

"I did NOT."

"Aha! So you DID!"

"What? I just said that I didn't!" Hermione threw a pillow at Ginny.

"Okay, okay. You only slept with my BROTHER then, right?"

"Ew, NO!"

"Aw… come on. You must have slept with at least one of them…"

"No! Ginny! Don't get any ideas; Ron and Harry are only my FRIENDS. The only person I ever slept with was- Ginny! That was not funny!" Hermione blushed violently as another pillow went flying toward Ginny.

"So you DID sleep with someone! I knew it! Who was he? Or… she?"

"You know what? Get out!" Hermione chased Ginny around the room until the door flew open.

"What are you girls doing? You'll be late! Both of you will miss the train and Hermione, you, out of all the people here, can't miss the train! Hurry up now!" Mrs. Weasley chided.

"Oh, Ginny, I don't know how I'm ever going to live a whole year with you."

"Don't worry; you won't be living with me. You'll probably be living with Snape. Maybe even professor Binns. Tell me how that goes!" Ginny giggled ferociously as another cushion hit her laughing face. "OKAY! I'M GOING NOW!"

The door shut behind Ginny and Hermione plopped down on her bed.

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Haha- I wanted a change so I stopped the chapter in the randomest place. Usually, I'll have Hermione think of something really serious and dynamic. But I didn't feel like thinking for her. Wow. And that whole Draco monologue-ish thing was so serious, it almost made ME cry. I couldn't make up my mind if he should be mad at his mom or understanding to his mom. I think you can kind of tell. One minute he's like "How could you do this to me, mother?" and then the next he's like "I love you mother."

I'm sick by the way… Tylenols, here I come!

Toodleloos

Youngwriters56