Trigger warnings: brief mentions of torture.

"Have you heard the rumours?" Theo asked Blaise and Draco while they were following the Headmistress around the castle along with the other Eighth Years. They were on the way to their new dorms when Peeves had the great idea to flood the hallway they needed to cross to get there. Naturally, they had to take the long way while Filch took care of it, which became awfully longer once the stairs decided to change their course as well.

The three friends were somewhat apart from the rest of the group, decidedly ignoring any and all potential questions from their fellow classmates. As Theo and Blaise chattered away, Draco scanned the familiar faces to double-check who else was back.

"Apparently, she hasn't been seen for two whole days…"

From Slytherin, there were his two friends, as well as Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. They weren't going to bother him or his mates, but he didn't expect them to be all chummy either.

"Bloody hell. I was wondering why she wasn't here."

Then, they had the sodding Gryffindors: Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan. The Patil twins were also there, along with Lovegood and the Weaselette, for some reason. He'd most definitely snoozed through that part of the conversation.

"Yeah. They say only her clothes were found-"

He didn't even bother looking at the yellow nor blue-clad students. He only knew that the one person he was hoping to see was not there.

"We're here" the Headmistress exclaimed, coming to a sudden halt at the end of a very long and narrow corridor. Draco swore he'd never stumbled upon that place before in his life — which, on second thought, was an easy feat to accomplish at Hogwarts.

All of the young ones were now admiring an enormous painting consisting of all of their house animals playing on a flower field, frolicking amicably in the grass. At the very back of the scene, they could get a glimpse of the Castle in its early years. Perched on the top of the highest turret, a phoenix bird overlooked its other animal companions.

Much to the students' amusement, McGonagall greeted the inhabitants of the painting.

"Good evening, Wise Ones" she exclaimed with a smile and a subtle inclination of her head. In turn, the five animals inside of the painting bowed regally, suddenly aware of the people in front of them. Draco never thought he'd see the day in which a snake would bow. Although, he'd already done that, hadn't he?

"These," McGonagall explained with her outstretched hand towards the canvas, "are the Wise Ones. This hallway was found once the castle reparations were done, with the painting already on the wall. Professor Flitwick and I were granted entrance while we were examining it, and inside we found fifteen bedrooms with individual bathrooms — one for each of you."

She paused, lifting her eyebrow at Draco.

"The Wise Ones grant access only to those who belong here, as well as the Head Boy and Head Girl, who may also make use of the amenities even though they have their own private quarters. Much like the Thief's Downfall in Gringotts, there is no enchantment or potion strong enough to outsmart them."

With a small sigh, she nodded once again and the Wise Ones let them through.

Once inside, everybody's mouths were agape in wonder. Their common room — a wide, rectangular space big enough to house the whole seventeen of them — was decorated in rich purple tones instead of the individual colours of each House. In their place, it seemed to have a bit of every one: there were several comfy armchairs next to a warm fireplace, as well as dark wood cupboards and tapestries depicting the Four Founders. On one of the walls, there were bookcases from side to side filled to the brim with several tomes, and potted plants could be found nearly everywhere. There were a couple of low tables here and there, mostly next to the armchairs. Finally, at the very back of the room there was a huge table perfect for meetings, studying or playing games. Not that they'd invite him, though.

As everybody let their eyes roam around and drink everything in, the Headmistress stood in the middle of the plush carpet and beckoned for their attention for the last time.

"As I said before, you will each have individual dormitories. The ladies can find theirs behind Rowena and Helga's tapestry," she said, pointing them in the right direction, "and the gentlemen can find theirs on the opposite side, behind Salazar and Godric's. As we are well aware, you are all consenting adults of age, so there are no charms preventing you from visiting each other. In spite of this, I urge you to be responsible with yourselves. You can go talk to Madam Pomfrey or to the library in case you need contraceptive potions or spells. Is that clear?"

Their silence and flushed faces were the answer. McGonagall could only hope the message got across. Godric forbid they finished the school year with an extra student on the way.

"Alright. Please look for your names on top of the bedroom doors. Your things should be already inside. I'll leave you to make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Malfoy, if you would please follow me" the old witch said, strutting towards the entrance without looking back to check if Draco followed.

The Heads' dormitories weren't far away from the Eighth Years'. In fact, they were exactly three hallways and a quarter floor apart — if the stairs behaved. Draco was relieved to be in a secluded part of the castle, where the possibilities of somebody else stumbling upon his dorm were minimal.

What he liked the most about McGonagall was her sensibility, as well as her no-nonsense attitude towards every endeavour she was involved in. She wasn't one for small talk, she never beat around the bush and she certainly took care of making herself very clear, both in the classroom and out. When he was younger, he hated how stern she was, but now he appreciated it a lot. His odds of survival were higher with her directing the school, he supposed. Merlin forbid Slughorn to ever be appointed Headmaster. He shuddered at the thought.

Right in the middle of the fourth hallway they sauntered by, they were greeted by the Snake of Slytherin and, oddly, by the phoenix as well, in a portrait not unlike the one at the previous dorms. The only difference was that the other Wise Ones were missing.

With one look at Draco and the Headmistress, the Snake let them in, with the former at the rear.

"Before you ask, yes, it is the same Wise One who travels between portraits and no, the other ones cannot leave the previous one unattended, except for the Lion. I am sure you can imagine why" she said, lifting one eyebrow at him questioningly. He just nodded, for he already knew who the Head Girl was.

Once the entrance was sealed behind their backs, Draco decided to do them both a favour and quit the idle chatter.

"Headmistress, where is Granger? I thought you mentioned her being Head Girl for this school year."

"I did" McGonagall whispered with a sad, troubled look. She motioned for Draco to sit down in one of the leather armchairs by the fire and she took a seat in front of him, wasting no time in settling down. This seemed to be a serious conversation.

"I'll be truthful to you, Mr. Malfoy, and spare no details. After all, she's been your classmate and colleague for almost seven years. In turn, I must ask you to keep this to yourself, except, perhaps, Miss Weasley, as she has already been alerted by Mr. Potter."

Draco swallowed, feeling a cold bead of sweat travelling down his spine. He nodded, closing the books in his mind and carefully placing them on their bookshelves. He needed to get rid of his emotions as he always did whenever she was involved.

"Mis Granger has been missing for more than 48 hours, and there is currently no knowledge of her whereabouts."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Draco felt the pages flutter, his books wavering, threatening to fall down and collapse. Yet, he was able to hold them in place. McGonagall's voice sounded far, far away, the words barely distinguishable.

"The robes she was wearing were found on the floor, along with her wand and other belongings, near the Apparition Point in Hogsmeade. She was supposed to arrive yesterday, you know…?" the Headmistress told him, her throat tightening. He imagined her loss would be a significant one for the woman, given the relationship the ex-Gryffindor Head had with Granger. He had no right to feel like that about her… but his chest tightened. The war was over, wasn't it? Then, why…?

The silence stretched as she cleared her throat.

"Of course, the Aurors are already investigating the case, but no significant development has been made, at least not that I know of. We will wait and see if she turns up before announcing your position to the school… if a month has passed, I'm afraid I'll have to appoint a different person in her place. I hope we don't get to that point."

McGonagall sighed, staring at the crackling fire. A heavy silence formed between them, both lost in their own thoughts.

After an unknown amount of time, the witch left Draco to himself. No more words were exchanged between them. They had enough going on inside their heads.

Draco woke with a start, all sweaty and agitated, tangled in his own robes. He had fallen asleep on one of the armchairs, holding on to an empty glass of firewhiskey. His head was throbbing and his stomach was a queasy mess after processing such a copious amount of alcohol with so little sustenance. He wasn't bothered much by it, though; it was a normal occurrence in his sad, little life. What bothered him was the dream—or rather, nightmare— he was having.

The curious curly-haired cat he had seen earlier was now in the castle. It was on one of the corridors near the library, if he wasn't mistaken. There, the caretaker's beast was savagely attacking it, biting and scratching while the poor thing curled to the wall, unable to defend itself, covered in its own blood.

It was a horrible vision, for sure, albeit unusual. He'd never dreamt anything similar before; his dreams usually involved the bloody lunatic that had ruined his life. Some other times, it involved his father. The ones that came the least yet startled him the most, were of… her.

"What else did you take? What else have you got!? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife! How did you get into my vault!?"

"It's a copy, I swear!" her voice, raw and pained, echoed on the high ceilings of the ballroom.

A hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Control yourself, Draco. What would Severus think?"

"CRUCIO!"

With thoughts of her came the pictures, the smells, the sounds. All the voices and sensations swam around, spiraling. The memories got muddled with his nightmares. Screaming. So much screaming. Her blood.

"I will carve you up like the filthy animal you are!"

Draco occluded heavily once again, trying to place each thought and feeling unto their corresponding pages and closing the books.

The one for Bellatrix. The one for Fenrir. The one for Lucius. The one for Severus. The one for the war… the one for Hermione.

He tried to go back to sleep. He tossed and turned, but couldn't get rid of the nagging sensation that he should go and look for the damn cat—just to make sure it wasn't really injured. Or real, for that matter.

Anxiety began bubbling in his chest. He knew it wouldn't go away until he fucking went and checked for himself that there was no cat.

"Bloody hell."

He wandlessly Aaccioed one of the many Hangover potions he had on his chest — couldn't drink himself to sleep on a daily basis, otherwise — and went on his way to not find the stupid animal.

It was hard to navigate Hogwarts even before the Battle. It didn't matter if you were in your first or seventh year: the blasted building always changed, vanished and added corridors, passages, portraits or even doors. It was part of its magic. It was a new thing altogether to find your way in an entirely new area, half-drunk and in the middle of the night.

Although logic told him constantly that the library was the other way, he decided to trust his instinct for a change. There was something inside telling him where to go as he wandered through the stone hallways, ignoring the dirty looks the portraits gave him as he unintentionally woke them up with his Lumos.

Suddenly, just when he thought he'd lost his way for the twentieth time, he heard it: an angry hiss and a pained meow.

Merlin's balls.

Draco ran like a man possessed, Filch be damned, to where the hopeless yowling creature was. As the tip of his wand settled on the very image from his nightmare, a sense of detachment overcame his body. He hardly processed the wand movement nor the incantation that escaped his lips, letting his muscles act on their own.

"Petrificus totalus."

As soon as it hit its target, Mrs. Norris lay frozen on the cobbled floor with her claws out, halted just before she could attack. The ugly cat's mouth was open on a fierce hiss, her fangs glistening in the dim light. He'd always hated the bloody animal, but he'd never dare add 'animal abuser' to his list of sins. She was just a wretched, ancient lady.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of ragged breaths coming from the other hairball at his feet. Draco saw, much to his chagrin, that the poor thing had been mauled by the vicious beast. Meanwhile, Mrs. Norris didn't have a single scratch on her. Had the nameless familiar defended itself at all? It seemed unlikely, if the amount of blood was any indication.

Without really thinking things through, Draco Malfoy carefully cradled the brown creature in his arms and left Filch's poor excuse of a pet, petrified still, to her own devices as he made haste back to his quarters. She deserved as much.