Hermione smoothed down her new navy blue robes and ran a hand through her
smoothed out hair. On an impulse that morning, she had used a hair potion
to tame it down. It fell soft and straight to the middle of her back. She
had even applied a touch of mascara and a bit of lipstick. She refused to
think that she did any of this to impress the seventh years, especially not
Malfoy.
Looking around the classroom, she saw that a third year had left a book behind and that two quills were on the floor. She slowly walked over and leaned down to pick them up. A scuffle of feet sounded at the door, and her head shot up to see who was arriving first.
A pair of grey eyes met her gaze and a smirk appeared on his pale face.
"Granger." He nodded his head in greeting, the smirk still plastered across his countenance. He walked straight up to the seat right in front of her desk and tossed his books onto it. She trembled slightly as she made her way back up to the front of the classroom with the book and the quills in her hands.
She placed the items on top of her desk before looking at her student. Shaking her head slightly, she asked, "Why are you sitting there, Malfoy? And, why are you here so early?"
He slid onto the seat before answering. "Why, Professor, this is the best seat in the classroom. I just wanted to make sure that I got it. I don't want to miss anything that my new professor could teach me."
The mocking tone in his voice almost set her temper off, but she managed to control it until a few other students wandered into the room. She became distracted and completely forgot the whole issue with Malfoy when she realized that they were all Slytherins. Panicking, she shuffled through the papers on her desk to find the class list. One glance told her what she wanted to know.
"Yup, it's you and all of the Slytherins in one classroom, alone," Malfoy confirmed in a low voice. He picked up his quill and twirled it in his hands. "What a way to start your day, huh, Professor?"
Hermione's head jerked up, and a look of compassion actually flitted across Malfoy's face. He lowered his head and then turned to talk to Goyle who had sat down directly behind him. The bell sounded, and gradually, everyone stopped talking and stared at their new professor, matching sullen looks on all of their faces.
Hermione pulled herself together, both mentally and physically, and began to call roll. Her voice only cracked once, and that was on Malfoy's name, but she didn't let it deter her.
"All right, then," she continued, "as you all know, this is your last and final year in Defense against the Dark Arts. During these last months, we will discuss the role of the dark arts in our modern day world and what the latest developments in curses, hexes and the sort are. We will also discuss what Dark Wizards we know currently exist, and what their prominent powers are." No reaction came from any of her students, and so she plunged on, assuming that they had heard her.
"We will discuss theories of what next will happen in the war against the Dark Side, and what measures are being taken to prevent terror attacks in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds." Still, no reaction. "All right. In addition to your books, I would like every single one of you to take out a subscription to the Daily Prophet, if you do not already have one. Please begin to bring these to class every day, for we will start to discuss the current events in the Wizarding world. Now, please take out your books and turn to Chapter One."
A single book slammed down onto a single desk. No one else moved. Hermione just stood there, waiting for her students to do as she asked.
"Why should we listen to a filthy little Muggle-born like you?" piped up a blond-haired girl who Hermione had hated since her first year at Hogwarts. It was Pansy Parkinson.
Ignoring her, Hermione took Modern Dark Wizards from her own desk, and opened it to Chapter One. She began to read the first paragraph, knowing that the only person who had done as she asked was Malfoy. At the end of the first page, she asked a question, "Why is Grindelwald considered the second most prominent dark wizard of the twentieth century?"
A few of the girls were whispering behind each other's hands. Some of the boys had started doodling on pieces of parchment. Crabbe's chin was resting on his fisted hands, and he was staring at Blaise Zabini. No one was paying a bit of attention to her.
She slammed the book closed, startling the entire class. "Fine." Her voice rose just a little and managed to get what she had been seeking for the past fifteen minutes, everyone's attention. "If you don't want to be here, then leave. There's the door." She pointed to the place that they had entered through just moments before.
With an indelicate snort, Pansy stood, picked up her books and left the room with her gang of Slytherin girls following in her wake. Crabbe and Goyle raised their eyebrows at each other, shrugged and followed suit. The classroom quickly emptied out until the only two people left were Malfoy and herself.
Giving up all pretense, she flopped into her own chair and buried her face in her hands. A moment passed and she realized that Draco really hadn't moved. In fact, his book was still open to the second page. Pushing her hair away from her face, Hermione stared at him. "Why are you still here, Draco?"
Instead of answering her question, he answered the one that she had asked moments before. "Grindelwald is considered the second most dangerous wizard, instead of the first, because he was mortal. Voldemort, as far as we know, is immortal, which makes him ten times harder to defeat."
Hermione just stared stupidly at him. "That's right." Sighing, she sat upright and straightened the books on her desk. "You can go, you know. There really isn't a point in continuing this lesson." A bitter sarcasm crept into her voice. "You probably know more about the Dark Arts than I'll ever know anyway."
Draco didn't dispute her statement. He closed up his books and walked up to her desk. She looked up at him from her sitting position, and he smiled down at her. He actually smiled, not his usual sneer, but a genuine, honest to goodness sincere smile. And the effect was amazing. He almost looked. well, attractive.
He leaned down, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione thought he was going to kiss her again. But, he didn't. Instead he playfully tugged her hair and said, "You look different today. Pretty, actually."
Her jaw dropped in astonishment. She was speechless. He chucked her gently under the chin and then strode out of the classroom, whistling.
Later that night, Harry and Ron followed Hermione back to her own apartments in the castle. As a teacher, she sat up at the Head Table during all meals, and she had watched Harry and Ron enviously, They had obviously been enjoying themselves. She had seen more than one peanut fly across the table at where Dean and Seamus had been sitting. One of them had even hit an unsuspecting first-year right between the eyes.
She now listened to them complain about the amount of homework Snape had given them, and how hard he had been on the Griffyndors in class earlier that day.
"How did you stand one-on-one sessions with him, Hermione?" asked Ron, shaking his head. "I'm surprised that you didn't kill each other."
Hermione shrugged, and then gave the password to the milkmaid. The trio entered her apartment, and she heard Harry say, "Whoa!" under his breath. She smiled a little at their reactions.
"This is brilliant!" cried Ron, staring around at the circular room in amazement. An Aubusson carpet lay on the floor, a couple of armchairs were gathered around a fireplace, and there were portraits of ancient witches and wizards on the walls. He walked through the doorway into her bedroom, and said, "No fair!"
Harry rushed to see what he was talking about, and Hermione followed them as they both jumped onto her enormous bed. They laid back, putting their hands behind their heads.
"How did a five foot, three inch girl get a bed this big, and I'm still in one of those cramped little things that they give us in first year?" Ron demanded to know. Glancing at his six foot two inch frame, Hermione had to giggle.
"Well, Ron, if you had worked a little harder, you would have been made prefect. Things get upgraded, then," she replied, "Move over." She shoved Ron over to the side, and Harry, always a gentleman, sat up and moved on his own.
"How did your first day with the Slytherins go?" Harry asked with a look of concern.
"It was. interesting," she said.
"Did Malfoy give you any problems?" asked Ron, suddenly sitting up.
"No, no," she assured him. "Actually, the thing that made it so interesting was that Malfoy was the only one who didn't give me any problems."
"What?" her friends cried in amazement.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, you see what I mean. It was interesting."
"He acted like he actually wanted to be there. Like he actually wanted to learn something," explained Hermione. "Nobody else was listening to me, and I finally told them that if they didn't want to be there, then to leave. He was the only one who stayed."
"Are you serious?" Ron asked incredulously. "Malfoy? We're talking about Draco Malfoy here? The same Draco that we all know and love?"
Once again, she nodded. "Yes. And, he acted differently around me. Like, he almost respected me."
"What did he do after everyone left?" prodded Harry.
"Well, first he answered the question that I had asked the class. Then, I told him that there really was no need for him to stay, seeing that he probably knew more about the Dark Arts than I'll ever know."
"Did he deny it?" Ron asked excitedly.
"No, actually." Hermione leaned back on the bed herself.
"Well, then, what happened?" Harry ignored the angry look on Ron's face.
Hermione blushed slightly and avoided both boys' eyes. "He. he complimented me."
"What?" cried Ron.
"He. he complimented me," she stuttered. "Told me that I looked pretty today."
Both boys' leaned back and looked her over.
"You do look rather nice today," Ron commented. Harry nodded in agreement. "You did that thing with your hair again. But, why would he do that?"
"I have no idea." Once again, she avoided direct eye contact.
Harry shot her a look saying that he clearly did not believe her. Ron just shook his head.
Hermione, trying to get out of the uncomfortable situation, shot up out of the bed, and announced, "You two should probably start your homework. I've got loads to prepare for the second-years tomorrow, too." She started walking towards the door. The boys didn't follow her right away, just exchanged a glance of concern between themselves.
"You find out," muttered Ron under his breath. Harry nodded in agreement, and they went into the common room to do their homework.
Down in the Slytherin common room, Draco was having a blazing row with Pansy Parkinson.
"Why are you so concerned about a creepy little Griffyndor, anyway, Malfoy?" she shouted at him.
"She's not a Griffyndor anymore, Pansy, and she's our teacher. If you don't start showing her a modicum of respect in class, I am going to start taking points off our House," Draco bellowed. He pulled himself up to his full height and glared down at his adversary.
But Pansy had dealt with Draco for the past six years, and he couldn't scare her off. Hands on hips, she screeched, "She's just a brainy little show-off. It's not like she can teach us anything about the Dark Side, and what's happening out there. Half of us know tons of inside information." She gave Draco a meaningful look. "You know, ever since your father died, you've been acting completely differently. What is wrong with you?"
Draco's lips thinned into a line. "Leave my father out of this," he said evenly.
A silence descended upon the entire room, and many heads turned towards the two seventh-years. Many of the younger students were a little afraid of the seventh-years, but didn't curiousity kill the cat?
A smugness came over Pansy. "You know, Draco, if I didn't know any better, I would almost say that you seem to like Hermione Granger the Mudblood."
Draco blinked, and then replied, "I never quite realized how ignorant you were before this moment, Pansy Parkinson. Or, maybe, even a little jealous of Miss Granger."
Pansy huffed and stamped the floor childishly. She scowled once more at Malfoy, and then swept out of the room towards the girls' dormitory. With one last look at their audience, Draco stormed off to his own room.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he fell face-forward onto the newly made bed. He grabbed his pillow, and shoved it underneath his head before turning it towards the window. The night shadows had begun to creep into the room, and he felt desolate and despondent. He didn't need Pansy's reminder to know that he was alone in this world now. Though, their fight had helped him to vent some of his frustration.
He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. Since his father's death, he hadn't really seen eye to eye with most of his friends. In fact, he realized that he hadn't really seen anything until after his father's death. Like, what Voldemort really was. The man really was just a murderer, as Potter had often said. Though, Draco didn't like to think that he and Potter actually agreed on something. He had not mentioned any of his new musings to anyone, not even Crabbe and Goyle. After all, their parents hadn't died in a meaningless attack.
The Death Eaters had all planned a bit of sport one weekend early in the summer. A few assaults on some muggle-born wizards and their extended muggle family. Apparently, the muggles had been tipped off, and a plan to catch some of Voldemort's followers was made. Voldemort had known that it was a set-up, yet he had sent Lucius Malfoy to do his bidding anyway. Lucius had never had a chance. He was captured almost immediately, and when he struggled, an auror had inflicted him with the Killing Curse.
Voldemort had immediately flocked to the Malfoy manor. He had ransacked the entire house, taking things that he felt should be his own. He took most of the dark artifacts that were hidden in a chamber underneath the drawing room floor and emptied the house vault of galleons and family jewels.
Aurors and ministry wizards had apparated outside the family home moments after Voldemort arrived. His mother was lying dead in the middle of the drawing room floor, and Draco himself had hidden in a secret passage outside on the grounds of the estate. Voldemort had found him and had been chasing him through the trees when it happened.
"Ahh, the last Malfoy," the Dark Lord had sneered. Pointing his wand at Draco, he had shouted, "Avada."
A lone figure had thrown himself in front of the wand and had shouted a shield charm at the same time. The Killing Curse had bounced off the shield, and ricocheted into some trees. Voldemort, realizing he would soon be outnumbered, disapparated quickly. The ministry wizard, Draco realized, just happened to be a former Hogwarts student. A Hufflepuff who was muggle- born whose name was David Flannery. One whom Draco had taunted several times when they had both been younger. The wizard had been taken to St. Mungo's with several serious injuries.
Draco had often wondered why the man had done such a foolish thing, but David told him later that he had just been doing his job. And if he had not, Draco would surely be as dead as his mother and father.
Draco shuddered and brought himself back to the present. The Hogwarts students knew none of the details of this particular incident. Merely that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had died in an attack. No mention of which side they had been on when it had happened.
On that day, Draco's staunch support of the Dark Lord had shifted. A numbness had settled over his entire body and soul. As he watched the earth cover up his parents, he realized that all of his knowledge of the Dark Side could be put to use. But he didn't want to create suspicion so he not only withdrew from his friends but also kept his distance from his enemies. Actually, his enemies didn't really seem quite so bad anymore. He could even relate to Potter, with both of them now being orphans, both having lost their parents to Voldemort.
He was hoping that with information and ideas flowing in the DADA classes, he could come up with a way to help out Dumbledore in the war against Voldemort. Thank goodness his father had thought it best to wait until he was out of Hogwarts to be officially welcomed into the fold. He had never had a mark burned into his arm, and for that he was immensely grateful.
He knew that Granger was suspicious of him, too. As much as he detested asking for her help, he knew that she would have some clever ideas. Even Potter and Weasley pulled decent marks in most of their subjects. Open discussion in some of their other classes had revealed that the trio often came up with brilliant ideas and plans. And, being Gryffindors, they actually put them into motion. If Granger encouraged open discussion in the Slytherin DADA classes, he hoped that information would spill without the Dark supporters realizing it. And plans could be set into motion to stop the Dark Lord's work.
His thoughts turned to their kiss the other day. He had no idea why he had decided to kiss her when he did. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. What really shocked him was that he had enjoyed it. By her reaction, he rather thought she enjoyed it as well.
And, he had not been lying when he told her his reason for getting to DADA early. He really did want to learn what she had to teach. It would fill in the gaps that he did not know about the Dark Side. It would make the puzzle pieces connect, and he would understand fully what was going on in the war that existed outside of Hogwarts. While he was sitting in the best seat of the class, he might as well enjoy the view.
He had liked the way her hair had fallen across her shoulders. The way her eyes flashed when she was in a temper made him want to tease her more than usual. Her new robes were a bit more fashionable than the school robes and showed her figure to advantage. Hermione Granger had changed over the summer, or maybe Draco had.
Looking around the classroom, she saw that a third year had left a book behind and that two quills were on the floor. She slowly walked over and leaned down to pick them up. A scuffle of feet sounded at the door, and her head shot up to see who was arriving first.
A pair of grey eyes met her gaze and a smirk appeared on his pale face.
"Granger." He nodded his head in greeting, the smirk still plastered across his countenance. He walked straight up to the seat right in front of her desk and tossed his books onto it. She trembled slightly as she made her way back up to the front of the classroom with the book and the quills in her hands.
She placed the items on top of her desk before looking at her student. Shaking her head slightly, she asked, "Why are you sitting there, Malfoy? And, why are you here so early?"
He slid onto the seat before answering. "Why, Professor, this is the best seat in the classroom. I just wanted to make sure that I got it. I don't want to miss anything that my new professor could teach me."
The mocking tone in his voice almost set her temper off, but she managed to control it until a few other students wandered into the room. She became distracted and completely forgot the whole issue with Malfoy when she realized that they were all Slytherins. Panicking, she shuffled through the papers on her desk to find the class list. One glance told her what she wanted to know.
"Yup, it's you and all of the Slytherins in one classroom, alone," Malfoy confirmed in a low voice. He picked up his quill and twirled it in his hands. "What a way to start your day, huh, Professor?"
Hermione's head jerked up, and a look of compassion actually flitted across Malfoy's face. He lowered his head and then turned to talk to Goyle who had sat down directly behind him. The bell sounded, and gradually, everyone stopped talking and stared at their new professor, matching sullen looks on all of their faces.
Hermione pulled herself together, both mentally and physically, and began to call roll. Her voice only cracked once, and that was on Malfoy's name, but she didn't let it deter her.
"All right, then," she continued, "as you all know, this is your last and final year in Defense against the Dark Arts. During these last months, we will discuss the role of the dark arts in our modern day world and what the latest developments in curses, hexes and the sort are. We will also discuss what Dark Wizards we know currently exist, and what their prominent powers are." No reaction came from any of her students, and so she plunged on, assuming that they had heard her.
"We will discuss theories of what next will happen in the war against the Dark Side, and what measures are being taken to prevent terror attacks in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds." Still, no reaction. "All right. In addition to your books, I would like every single one of you to take out a subscription to the Daily Prophet, if you do not already have one. Please begin to bring these to class every day, for we will start to discuss the current events in the Wizarding world. Now, please take out your books and turn to Chapter One."
A single book slammed down onto a single desk. No one else moved. Hermione just stood there, waiting for her students to do as she asked.
"Why should we listen to a filthy little Muggle-born like you?" piped up a blond-haired girl who Hermione had hated since her first year at Hogwarts. It was Pansy Parkinson.
Ignoring her, Hermione took Modern Dark Wizards from her own desk, and opened it to Chapter One. She began to read the first paragraph, knowing that the only person who had done as she asked was Malfoy. At the end of the first page, she asked a question, "Why is Grindelwald considered the second most prominent dark wizard of the twentieth century?"
A few of the girls were whispering behind each other's hands. Some of the boys had started doodling on pieces of parchment. Crabbe's chin was resting on his fisted hands, and he was staring at Blaise Zabini. No one was paying a bit of attention to her.
She slammed the book closed, startling the entire class. "Fine." Her voice rose just a little and managed to get what she had been seeking for the past fifteen minutes, everyone's attention. "If you don't want to be here, then leave. There's the door." She pointed to the place that they had entered through just moments before.
With an indelicate snort, Pansy stood, picked up her books and left the room with her gang of Slytherin girls following in her wake. Crabbe and Goyle raised their eyebrows at each other, shrugged and followed suit. The classroom quickly emptied out until the only two people left were Malfoy and herself.
Giving up all pretense, she flopped into her own chair and buried her face in her hands. A moment passed and she realized that Draco really hadn't moved. In fact, his book was still open to the second page. Pushing her hair away from her face, Hermione stared at him. "Why are you still here, Draco?"
Instead of answering her question, he answered the one that she had asked moments before. "Grindelwald is considered the second most dangerous wizard, instead of the first, because he was mortal. Voldemort, as far as we know, is immortal, which makes him ten times harder to defeat."
Hermione just stared stupidly at him. "That's right." Sighing, she sat upright and straightened the books on her desk. "You can go, you know. There really isn't a point in continuing this lesson." A bitter sarcasm crept into her voice. "You probably know more about the Dark Arts than I'll ever know anyway."
Draco didn't dispute her statement. He closed up his books and walked up to her desk. She looked up at him from her sitting position, and he smiled down at her. He actually smiled, not his usual sneer, but a genuine, honest to goodness sincere smile. And the effect was amazing. He almost looked. well, attractive.
He leaned down, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione thought he was going to kiss her again. But, he didn't. Instead he playfully tugged her hair and said, "You look different today. Pretty, actually."
Her jaw dropped in astonishment. She was speechless. He chucked her gently under the chin and then strode out of the classroom, whistling.
Later that night, Harry and Ron followed Hermione back to her own apartments in the castle. As a teacher, she sat up at the Head Table during all meals, and she had watched Harry and Ron enviously, They had obviously been enjoying themselves. She had seen more than one peanut fly across the table at where Dean and Seamus had been sitting. One of them had even hit an unsuspecting first-year right between the eyes.
She now listened to them complain about the amount of homework Snape had given them, and how hard he had been on the Griffyndors in class earlier that day.
"How did you stand one-on-one sessions with him, Hermione?" asked Ron, shaking his head. "I'm surprised that you didn't kill each other."
Hermione shrugged, and then gave the password to the milkmaid. The trio entered her apartment, and she heard Harry say, "Whoa!" under his breath. She smiled a little at their reactions.
"This is brilliant!" cried Ron, staring around at the circular room in amazement. An Aubusson carpet lay on the floor, a couple of armchairs were gathered around a fireplace, and there were portraits of ancient witches and wizards on the walls. He walked through the doorway into her bedroom, and said, "No fair!"
Harry rushed to see what he was talking about, and Hermione followed them as they both jumped onto her enormous bed. They laid back, putting their hands behind their heads.
"How did a five foot, three inch girl get a bed this big, and I'm still in one of those cramped little things that they give us in first year?" Ron demanded to know. Glancing at his six foot two inch frame, Hermione had to giggle.
"Well, Ron, if you had worked a little harder, you would have been made prefect. Things get upgraded, then," she replied, "Move over." She shoved Ron over to the side, and Harry, always a gentleman, sat up and moved on his own.
"How did your first day with the Slytherins go?" Harry asked with a look of concern.
"It was. interesting," she said.
"Did Malfoy give you any problems?" asked Ron, suddenly sitting up.
"No, no," she assured him. "Actually, the thing that made it so interesting was that Malfoy was the only one who didn't give me any problems."
"What?" her friends cried in amazement.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, you see what I mean. It was interesting."
"He acted like he actually wanted to be there. Like he actually wanted to learn something," explained Hermione. "Nobody else was listening to me, and I finally told them that if they didn't want to be there, then to leave. He was the only one who stayed."
"Are you serious?" Ron asked incredulously. "Malfoy? We're talking about Draco Malfoy here? The same Draco that we all know and love?"
Once again, she nodded. "Yes. And, he acted differently around me. Like, he almost respected me."
"What did he do after everyone left?" prodded Harry.
"Well, first he answered the question that I had asked the class. Then, I told him that there really was no need for him to stay, seeing that he probably knew more about the Dark Arts than I'll ever know."
"Did he deny it?" Ron asked excitedly.
"No, actually." Hermione leaned back on the bed herself.
"Well, then, what happened?" Harry ignored the angry look on Ron's face.
Hermione blushed slightly and avoided both boys' eyes. "He. he complimented me."
"What?" cried Ron.
"He. he complimented me," she stuttered. "Told me that I looked pretty today."
Both boys' leaned back and looked her over.
"You do look rather nice today," Ron commented. Harry nodded in agreement. "You did that thing with your hair again. But, why would he do that?"
"I have no idea." Once again, she avoided direct eye contact.
Harry shot her a look saying that he clearly did not believe her. Ron just shook his head.
Hermione, trying to get out of the uncomfortable situation, shot up out of the bed, and announced, "You two should probably start your homework. I've got loads to prepare for the second-years tomorrow, too." She started walking towards the door. The boys didn't follow her right away, just exchanged a glance of concern between themselves.
"You find out," muttered Ron under his breath. Harry nodded in agreement, and they went into the common room to do their homework.
Down in the Slytherin common room, Draco was having a blazing row with Pansy Parkinson.
"Why are you so concerned about a creepy little Griffyndor, anyway, Malfoy?" she shouted at him.
"She's not a Griffyndor anymore, Pansy, and she's our teacher. If you don't start showing her a modicum of respect in class, I am going to start taking points off our House," Draco bellowed. He pulled himself up to his full height and glared down at his adversary.
But Pansy had dealt with Draco for the past six years, and he couldn't scare her off. Hands on hips, she screeched, "She's just a brainy little show-off. It's not like she can teach us anything about the Dark Side, and what's happening out there. Half of us know tons of inside information." She gave Draco a meaningful look. "You know, ever since your father died, you've been acting completely differently. What is wrong with you?"
Draco's lips thinned into a line. "Leave my father out of this," he said evenly.
A silence descended upon the entire room, and many heads turned towards the two seventh-years. Many of the younger students were a little afraid of the seventh-years, but didn't curiousity kill the cat?
A smugness came over Pansy. "You know, Draco, if I didn't know any better, I would almost say that you seem to like Hermione Granger the Mudblood."
Draco blinked, and then replied, "I never quite realized how ignorant you were before this moment, Pansy Parkinson. Or, maybe, even a little jealous of Miss Granger."
Pansy huffed and stamped the floor childishly. She scowled once more at Malfoy, and then swept out of the room towards the girls' dormitory. With one last look at their audience, Draco stormed off to his own room.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he fell face-forward onto the newly made bed. He grabbed his pillow, and shoved it underneath his head before turning it towards the window. The night shadows had begun to creep into the room, and he felt desolate and despondent. He didn't need Pansy's reminder to know that he was alone in this world now. Though, their fight had helped him to vent some of his frustration.
He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. Since his father's death, he hadn't really seen eye to eye with most of his friends. In fact, he realized that he hadn't really seen anything until after his father's death. Like, what Voldemort really was. The man really was just a murderer, as Potter had often said. Though, Draco didn't like to think that he and Potter actually agreed on something. He had not mentioned any of his new musings to anyone, not even Crabbe and Goyle. After all, their parents hadn't died in a meaningless attack.
The Death Eaters had all planned a bit of sport one weekend early in the summer. A few assaults on some muggle-born wizards and their extended muggle family. Apparently, the muggles had been tipped off, and a plan to catch some of Voldemort's followers was made. Voldemort had known that it was a set-up, yet he had sent Lucius Malfoy to do his bidding anyway. Lucius had never had a chance. He was captured almost immediately, and when he struggled, an auror had inflicted him with the Killing Curse.
Voldemort had immediately flocked to the Malfoy manor. He had ransacked the entire house, taking things that he felt should be his own. He took most of the dark artifacts that were hidden in a chamber underneath the drawing room floor and emptied the house vault of galleons and family jewels.
Aurors and ministry wizards had apparated outside the family home moments after Voldemort arrived. His mother was lying dead in the middle of the drawing room floor, and Draco himself had hidden in a secret passage outside on the grounds of the estate. Voldemort had found him and had been chasing him through the trees when it happened.
"Ahh, the last Malfoy," the Dark Lord had sneered. Pointing his wand at Draco, he had shouted, "Avada."
A lone figure had thrown himself in front of the wand and had shouted a shield charm at the same time. The Killing Curse had bounced off the shield, and ricocheted into some trees. Voldemort, realizing he would soon be outnumbered, disapparated quickly. The ministry wizard, Draco realized, just happened to be a former Hogwarts student. A Hufflepuff who was muggle- born whose name was David Flannery. One whom Draco had taunted several times when they had both been younger. The wizard had been taken to St. Mungo's with several serious injuries.
Draco had often wondered why the man had done such a foolish thing, but David told him later that he had just been doing his job. And if he had not, Draco would surely be as dead as his mother and father.
Draco shuddered and brought himself back to the present. The Hogwarts students knew none of the details of this particular incident. Merely that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had died in an attack. No mention of which side they had been on when it had happened.
On that day, Draco's staunch support of the Dark Lord had shifted. A numbness had settled over his entire body and soul. As he watched the earth cover up his parents, he realized that all of his knowledge of the Dark Side could be put to use. But he didn't want to create suspicion so he not only withdrew from his friends but also kept his distance from his enemies. Actually, his enemies didn't really seem quite so bad anymore. He could even relate to Potter, with both of them now being orphans, both having lost their parents to Voldemort.
He was hoping that with information and ideas flowing in the DADA classes, he could come up with a way to help out Dumbledore in the war against Voldemort. Thank goodness his father had thought it best to wait until he was out of Hogwarts to be officially welcomed into the fold. He had never had a mark burned into his arm, and for that he was immensely grateful.
He knew that Granger was suspicious of him, too. As much as he detested asking for her help, he knew that she would have some clever ideas. Even Potter and Weasley pulled decent marks in most of their subjects. Open discussion in some of their other classes had revealed that the trio often came up with brilliant ideas and plans. And, being Gryffindors, they actually put them into motion. If Granger encouraged open discussion in the Slytherin DADA classes, he hoped that information would spill without the Dark supporters realizing it. And plans could be set into motion to stop the Dark Lord's work.
His thoughts turned to their kiss the other day. He had no idea why he had decided to kiss her when he did. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. What really shocked him was that he had enjoyed it. By her reaction, he rather thought she enjoyed it as well.
And, he had not been lying when he told her his reason for getting to DADA early. He really did want to learn what she had to teach. It would fill in the gaps that he did not know about the Dark Side. It would make the puzzle pieces connect, and he would understand fully what was going on in the war that existed outside of Hogwarts. While he was sitting in the best seat of the class, he might as well enjoy the view.
He had liked the way her hair had fallen across her shoulders. The way her eyes flashed when she was in a temper made him want to tease her more than usual. Her new robes were a bit more fashionable than the school robes and showed her figure to advantage. Hermione Granger had changed over the summer, or maybe Draco had.
