Draco knew he couldn't do anything, but guided by some impulse he couldn't name, after dinner that evening he went to watch the hippogriff's head get chopped off.

Pansy gave him a questioning look when he left the dungeons, but he just shrugged and said he was going to the library. They did have a Transfiguration essay due on Monday, so it was a plausible excuse, although Pansy didn't know he'd already finished it, and using the excuse of the library had a secondary benefit of deterring Crabbe and Goyle from coming with him, too.

He found a nice vantage point behind a rock and watched Hagrid feeding dead rodents to the doomed bird. He felt increasingly idiotic and useless as he stood there just… watching.

"Come to gloat?" a voice called, and Draco turned to see Granger headed down the steps, looking absolutely furious. Longbottom and Weasley followed closely, and they didn't look too happy either.

Draco had hardly realized how this would look to them before Granger was upon him.

"You vile, foul, evil, loathsome little cockroach!" she cried, and then slapped him so hard he was sure he'd feel it for days. He doubled over, one hand cupping his cheek gingerly, and then, feeling tears coming to his eyes, he ran back towards the castle. Hearing shocked laughter from Weasley and Longbottom, he tried to run faster, and once he was sure they couldn't see or hear him he stopped trying to control his sobs. He'd never been hit like that before in his life. And Weasley and Longbottom had just – they'd just stood there and laughed. He felt so humiliated.

When he reached the school, he thought to go find an empty classroom to hole up in, but a quick, tear-filled glance down the corridor to the nearest rooms showed him the vague shapes of two people. Draco definitely did not need anyone seeing him in the state he was in and immediately darted in the opposite direction, taking random turns until he reached an empty courtyard that opened on one side to the rest of the grounds.

Draco had never come across it before, but the gentle sway of the enormous willow in the yard was rather comforting, so he tucked himself into one of the alcoves with a view of the peaceful tree. The solitude and silence gave a few more tears permission to pool in his eyes and spill over, forging fresh paths down his cheeks. Draco lifted his arm to wipe them away, but the fabric of his robes brushed too roughly against his tender skin and set off another fresh wave of tears. There was nothing for him to do except wrap his arms around himself as tightly as he could and let them come.

By the time he heard the clock strike the short chimes of half-past the hour, Draco had managed to mostly collect himself. The hippogriff was to be executed at sunset, he recalled as the last of the chimes faded, and although he couldn't see the western horizon from where he was sitting, the sky was dark enough that it was safe to assume the sun had just gone down.

Draco sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. It was getting pretty late, but he didn't want to go back to his dorm. It was Friday, and he was sure every Slytherin would be hanging around in the Common Room, having a relaxing evening at the end of the school week, and he wouldn't be able to sneak past even half of them before it would become apparent to his entire house that he had been off crying, which was much more embarrassing than the fresh imprint of Granger's hand that he could still feel on his face.

No, he couldn't go directly back to the Slytherin dungeon, but he could make a detour to Snape's office – he was always there late – and get some salve or something for his cheek, and by then hopefully it wouldn't be so obvious that he'd been emotionally compromised.

Buoyed by this optimistic thought, Draco jumped to his feet and started back down the corridor. He hadn't taken more than ten steps, however, before he heard distant shouts coming from the grounds, which he was only mildly curious about until he heard them again, closer, and could distinguish the words.

"Scabbers, ow!"

"Ron!"

"Padfoot, no!"

Draco's head whipped around. That was Cygna! What in Merlin's name was she doing with Granger and Weasley, he wondered, and – Scabbers!? That was what Weasley called the rat, wasn't it? Hurriedly, Draco scrambled over the low stone wall separating the corridor from the courtyard, heading approximately towards where the voices had come from.

Weasley appeared, running up from the grounds on the other side of the willow, his eyes fixed on something on the ground in front of him, and seemingly oblivious to Padfoot charging up wildly behind him. As Draco slowed, trying to spot where Pettigrew was in the grass, Weasley abruptly dove and rose back up with the rat clutched to his chest. At the same time, movement from above caught Draco's eye, and with some confusion he saw that the previously tranquil tree was moving, becoming more and more disturbed and violent as Weasley backed away from Padfoot.

"Weasley, move!" he cried, as one particularly knotty branch whipped downwards in the redhead's direction. Unfortunately, all Draco achieved was drawing the bewildered Weasley's attention towards himself, and he watched in horror as the branch's trajectory continued, unable to tear his eyes away. But he'd forgotten about Padfoot, and at the last second Weasley toppled beneath a blur of black fur.

A sigh of relief left him as Padfoot dragged the still-protesting Weasley away from the barrage of branches. Despite everything that had happened earlier that evening, Draco didn't really want to watch anyone die.

"Ron!"

Granger and Longbottom, followed by Cygna, came up over the rise. Thankfully, all three stopped at the sight of the thrashing willow tree. Draco began to carefully walk around the outer edge of the courtyard and made his way safely around the tree to Cygna's side.

"Where did Padfoot take that boy?" She asked him.

Draco had been trying to figure that out, since the trunk of the tree had blocked his view, and now he remembered that Black had mentioned a passageway to the Shrieking Shack. He'd spotted it on the Map one night while watching it for Pettigrew's name with Lupin, and noticed that it had started by a tree, although he hadn't known it was this tree, but it did make sense. How better to protect the secret tunnel that led to a werewolf than with a homicidal tree?

"There's a tunnel under the tree –" Draco started to tell her but was interrupted.

"That's your dog?" Granger asked sharply. "Why didn't you stop it attacking Ron? And who are you, anyway?"

"She's my friend," Draco said, before Cygna could answer for herself, "and Weasley's perfectly safe with Padfoot."

"Safe!" Granger shrieked. "How can you say that?!"

"It looked like a Grim," Longbottom said nervously.

"Well, he's not," Draco insisted. "He was just getting Weasley away from those branches."

That seemed to give Granger and Longbottom something to consider, and in the ensuing pause, Cygna finally spoke up.

"How do you suppose we get that tree to calm down?"

Draco shrugged. He wasn't sure spells would work, since it was a magical tree, and besides, he didn't think his spellwork would be powerful enough to affect it at all.

"You just have to hit the knot," came a voice from behind them, and they all turned at once to see Lupin standing there. He must have seen them on the map, Draco realized, and came to help.

"The knot?" Draco asked curiously.

Lupin nodded, and wordlessly flicked his wand at a stick, levitating it towards the writhing tree until it poked the center of a rather large and twisted knot on its trunk. The tree promptly froze in place, as if he'd cast a Petrificus Totalus over it.

"Cool," Draco said under his breath. Cygna just rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, come on," Lupin said, striding towards the still tree. "We can't let Padfoot have all the fun."