For the third time since she'd left the safety of her single-occupant bedroom this morning, Hermione desperately wished she could retreat from the overwhelming bustle of Hogwarts. Her first week back at school had been a whirlwind to say the least, and her mental health had suffered.
Hogwarts had provided a fine distraction, but it hadn't completely eradicated the emotional turmoil that writhed just below the surface in her mind, as reflected in the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and the pallor of her normally golden brown skin. She'd been surrounded by people constantly since returning to school, yet at times had never felt more alone.
In some ways the solitude was welcome amidst the deluge of social activity, but in other ways it only served to amplify the darkest aspects of her thoughts. This was especially true during the nights she spent tossing and turning in her bed, which in turn reminded her of the long hours she spent doing the same in her childhood home after learning of her parents' fate. It felt like she experienced the dark night of the soul every night.
While huddling in her bed beset by anxiety, the future would yawn before her like an inexorable monolith, reminding her that it was coming whether or not she was ready for it. Worse, harsh echoes from the past would also chase her, nipping at her heels like ravenous wolves in the night. In her darkest moments with tears soaking into her pillow, an existential all-encompassing fear would overtake her.
That terror could hold her in its vise for hours if she stayed put, so she had taken to fleeing to the common room when it became too much to handle. The risk of running into Malfoy out there at odd hours of the night was worth the potential embarrassment if it meant a slight reprieve from her waking nightmares. Thankfully she hadn't encountered him while in this state yet.
Despite her struggles with sleep and anxiety, Hermione was determined to fulfill her duties as Head Girl and make the most out of her second chance at Hogwarts. Still, she was grateful there were only two hours left in the school day today, and another hour of Head meetings after dinner until the weekend was officially hers.
Thank Merlin living with Malfoy had been much less of an impediment than she'd initially guessed it would be. At his insistence, they'd taken the unusually proactive step of sharing their schedules and living preferences on their first night back at Hogwarts. Now they had a system in place for their daily schedules, one that helped minimize the butting of heads that still occasionally occurred between them. They barely saw each other, and that was probably for the best.
If only the rest of Slytherin had turned over the same leaf as Malfoy, she thought wistfully. It wasn't as apparent in the younger Slytherin students, but the resentment and dislike emanating towards her from some of the older Slytherins was obvious to Hermione after only a few days back at Hogwarts.
From the challenging stares that went on for too long, to the insults whispered behind her back, to the 'accidental' shoulder checks that caused her to drop her school things—it was clear that some of her peers held a grudge. While she deducted house points and handed out detention in cases where her Slytherin bullies lacked plausible deniability, there were still plenty of times when their bullying was too subversive for such heavy-handed responses.
Hermione took her position as Head Girl seriously, and as such she refused to abuse her power just to lower herself to the level of a bunch of sore losers—for now. She was also too prideful for her own good, which explained why she had yet to mention it neither to her Head of House, nor the Slytherin Head of House.
Lost in thought, Hermione failed to anticipate the very behavior from Slytherin that she'd just been contemplating on her way to a double block of Transfiguration. She was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of a few snickers coming from behind her.
"—stupid bint has it coming," came the derisive voice of Norman Burton, an entitled 5th year Slytherin who'd grown more brazen in his disdain for her in the past day or two. Although his words were directed towards two of his Slytherin housemates, he turned to make eye contact with Hermione as his group came to walk next to her in the corridor.
"Hear that, Granger? Not everyone in this bloody school worships the ground you walk on. Some of us still know where you belong—in the mud," he spat, pathetically obvious in his attempt to get under her skin, hoping to get a rise from her. He reminded her of a cheap imitation of Malfoy in his heyday.
Unimpressed, Hermione stopped to face them and raised an eyebrow, "Norman, I assume you understand the abject stupidity of blatantly antagonizing me like this, which tells me you're either dumber than I thought, or that something's galvanized you. Quite frankly, I'm banking on the former."
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared at her words, and though she could see his mouth preparing to spew more narrow-minded drivel, she continued, "Ten points from Slytherin—and that's a favor, Burton. One more idiotic word from you, and I'll show you just how exacting of a Head Girl I can be."
Hermione could see the hatred simmering in his gaze as well as in the eyes of his companions, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. She'd been more than patient this week, and now she'd reached her limit. She also knew how important it was not to show weakness in these situations.
If anything, she was grateful this latest display from Slytherin had been obvious enough to warrant a points deduction. It meant she'd been able to do something about it—this time. She would have to talk to Malfoy about this before it got out of hand.
No longer interested in wasting her time on obtuse mouth breathers, she continued on her way to Transfiguration, choosing to ignore the indignant huffs that followed in her wake. Although she'd turned her back on them, she had her wand at the ready. It was holstered on her forearm for easy access in situations like this one, just in case some prepubescent idiot ever became over-confident and trigger-happy.
The war may have ended months ago, but it had begun to dawn on Hermione that in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, the underlying root of pureblood hatred had remained at least partially intact. It made her heart ache to think that everything the Order had sacrificed—everything she had sacrificed—still hadn't been enough to eradicate such a deep-seated hatred.
Shaking off her morose train of thought, Hermione took a deep breath and schooled her expression into something more pleasant. It wouldn't do to let a few 5th year taunts ruin her last class of the day before the weekend. Resolved to put it behind her, she made her way into the Transfiguration classroom, ready to learn.
"You've been quite elusive this week, mate," Theo said amiably as he fell into step beside Draco after dinner.
The accusation implicit in his words was concealed beneath a thin veneer of companionable warmth as he spoke. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've been properly whipped by these weak excuses for magical heredity."
Draco's cool gaze cut left to Theo, unsurprised that only four months after the Battle of Hogwarts the school had already turned into a breeding ground for hatred once again. He wondered why it had taken Theo this long to confront him.
"So what if I have been?" Draco baited with a raised brow, holding Theo's gaze. "I have nothing to gain from doing otherwise. The Wizenmagot made sure of it."
Theo's eyes glinted with challenge, "You like your leash, do you wittle Draco?"
Draco's sardonic expression morphed into a sneer. He cocked his head to the side, "Compared to rotting away in Azkaban like my father? You'd be an imbecile not to choose freedom if you were wearing the mark that's on my arm."
Theo's nod was conciliatory, but his expression was calculating, "It's a shame Lucius didn't manage to escape after the Final Battle like some of his brethren did. I suppose that's what happens when your incompetent son's a blood traitor."
Draco shrugged noncommittally, impervious to Theo's elementary provocations, "Considering he got the Kiss and I'm standing here a mostly free man, I'd say I got the better end of the deal."
Theo chuckled darkly, "Pragmatic as always. So are you gracing us with your presence tonight, Head Boy? Fancy yourself a little back to school fête? Or does your leash not extend that far?"
Draco smirked, "Didn't know you missed me that much, Nott. In any case, yes, I'd planned on showing up to see what you ingrates are up to. In the meantime I've got business to attend to."
The pair split at the next corridor without another word, and Draco made his way to the common room that he and Granger shared so he could prepare for their upcoming meeting. He sat at their work table and began sorting through his notes wearing a pensive expression.
The past week hadn't gone the way Draco had anticipated it would. It was the small discrepancies that had left him feeling most intrigued. He'd spent his first week back at Hogwarts running his own personal form of surveillance on the rest of the school, testing the waters before he could choose the best contingency plan to use to his advantage.
It had meant less time spent with Granger at first, but he'd been checking in on her too, in his own covert way. He was concerned about what he'd noticed in the short week they'd lived together. She barely ever seemed to sleep, and seemed to be plagued by night terrors. He couldn't empathize—he rarely ever dreamt, and mostly slept without issue now that the war was over and his family's fate decided. Still, her performance at school didn't seem to be affected. If anything, her academic prowess was only fiercer now, something he'd noted appreciatively if competitively. Realizing he'd become distracted by her, he deferred all thoughts about his fellow Head Girl away for later.
With nearly all said and done, the results of his surveillance of Slytherin House were equal parts suspicious and relieving. To begin with, the power dynamics in the House of Slytherin had shifted in a direction he'd disregarded as unlikely when Blaise had warned him about it a few weeks earlier. Yet it had quickly become clear to him that Theo Nott was indeed at the top of the food chain now, with a considerable number of loyal Slytherin supporters who seemed too tight-knit and disciplined to have formed over the course of only a few weeks. Whatever Theo was pulling, it had been in the works since last year's school term, at least.
Draco's jaw clenched. Theo would have been building his network of chums during the time when Draco was consumed by the fallout from attempting to complete Voldemort's task, along with the fallout of what he'd witnessed while Malfoy Manor was under siege by Death Eaters. Of course Draco wouldn't have paid attention to something so seemingly inconsequential at the time while he'd been haunted by what he'd been forced to see and do as one of Voldemort's henchmen.
Looking at where he was now, Draco wondered how the war would have played out if he hadn't unleashed Death Eaters upon Hogwarts. He wondered if he and his mother would have still improbably received a second chance if things had gone differently. More than likely, his family would all be dead. He felt a shiver of relief race down his back and chose not to think too long upon the worse fates that could have befallen them—that could still befall them, if he wasn't careful.
Draco could tell Theo was up to something. Like recognizes like, after all, and Draco was nothing if not experienced in the art of wreaking havoc. It was just that this was his first time being on the periphery, excluded from Slytherin's inner circle, relegated to the level of an outsider in his own House.
On the first day of school he'd received nothing but cool tolerance from the likes of Theo, Marcus, Graham, and the others. He knew there had to be deeper motivations reining in their resentment towards him. He just couldn't figure out what those motivations might be. What's the end game? The desire to know why was niggling incessantly at him.
Draco had begun to penalize his own house for their offenses, yet he still received nothing but cool disregard from his housemates. He couldn't help but feel like he was playing a cat and mouse game with Theo and his cronies – as if Slytherins' antics were nothing but a smokescreen. Draco suspected his limits and tolerances as Head Boy were being tested to see how far they could be pushed.
Curious indeed.
He looked up when he heard the portrait entry to the Heads' quarters swing open to admit a harried looking Head Girl, her mass of curly hair sticking up in a million different directions. It would have been endearing if Draco cared about that kind of thing. Unfortunately cute wasn't really his box of jelly beans.
"Malfoy," she greeted absentmindedly, "Sorry, I just need to get a few of my things in order and I'll be right out."
Draco smirked, "You're four minutes early, Granger. At least wait until you're late to apologize. Or are you that much of a goody goody?"
She rolled her eyes as she made her way across their common room and opened the door to her bedroom. "Just for that, I'll make sure to take an extra long time, you prat!" she called out over her shoulder before closing the door, but her words lacked heat.
She emerged nearly ten minutes later clad in her muggle lounge clothes, looking much frailer than her school robes suggested. Her disheveled appearance elicited a raised brow from Draco, but nothing more. Maybe cute's my thing after all, he mused. Merlin, what is wrong with me?
He would never be caught dead admitting it, but he enjoyed the domesticity their evenings in the Heads' common room afforded them. Given the struggle that seemed to be simmering below the surface in her, he liked knowing that Granger felt comfortable enough with him to let loose in some small way, however insignificant. It meant progress, and it beat slumming in the Slytherin common room any day. He was surprised to find that living with her made him like her more. She was growing on him.
With her short after-dinner routine complete, Granger plopped down in the seat across from Draco and exhaled loudly, "What a week. Alright, let's compare agendas so we can add some structure to this meeting and get out of here in time to attend those back to school parties we're supposed to pretend we know nothing about."
Draco snorted inelegantly at Granger's ability to jam so many words into a single breath, but nodded. He wanted to make an appearance in Slytherin's common room tonight to learn more about what Theo was up to—more out of a sense of self-preservation than anything else.
He and Granger compared notes, and then proceeded to dive into the minutiae of their Head duties. At some point between a discussion about night patrol schedules and an argument about how to interpret a particularly obscure school rule, Draco zoned out. He found himself lost in the spark lighting Granger's eyes as she animatedly refuted his most recent (and admittedly ridiculous) claim.
"Detention with Peeves?" she asked incredulously, "We want to punish rule breakers, not scar them for life!"
Draco shook himself out of his reverie and shrugged, "Nothing less than a scarring experience will work on some of the idiots we have the misfortune of calling classmates. And even then, some of them are too far gone for help."
It was obvious that Granger could no longer tell if he was joking or not. For that matter, neither could he. It was true after all. Only a week in, and he could already see the cracks beginning to show at Hogwarts. Old prejudices were creeping in, as if a war hadn't just been fought to refute the very insults that were being slung around campus today.
Granger deflated before his eyes and nodded grimly across from him. She took a moment to stare off into space, her mind clearly elsewhere. Seeing the effect his words had on her, he found himself wishing he hadn't said anything to break their humorous interlude. She looked so much smaller when she wasn't in the process of ripping him a new one.
"Have you noticed it?" she asked after a beat, "The Slytherin bullying, I mean? It's oddly selective, isn't it?"
Draco nodded, deciding now was the time he'd offer another olive branch in his efforts to build a bridge between himself and the young woman across from him.
"I've noticed. It's the only reason I'm showing my face at Slytherin's party tonight," he admitted, "My housemates have been far more brazen than I would have expected them to be so soon after the war. Something's going on, and I want to know what."
Granger looked at him thoughtfully, "And if something is going on?" she queried, "You've never exactly struck me as the heroic or do-gooder type, Malfoy. Not unless you have something to gain from it. In fact, if you'd asked me a few months ago I would have expected you to be in on whatever Slytherin's up to."
She was right, and they both knew it. Draco ground his teeth and counted to ten in an attempt to keep his cool before responding, "You're not wrong, Granger, but I'm not the same person I was a few months ago. Turns out being scarred for life was the best thing that could have ever happened to me."
She considered him for a moment before conceding, "Fair enough. I won't apologize, but as long as you remain a decent human being I'll refrain from needling you for behavior you no longer exhibit."
Draco huffed out a dry chuckle and realized that even getting this much from someone like Granger so soon after the start of term was plenty, and indeed more than he probably deserved. One side of his mouth lifted in a tiny involuntary grin before he could stop himself.
Her expression transformed into one of surprise for a split-second before morphing into arch imperiousness, "Don't make me regret it."
"Far be it from me to ever earn your ire again, Granger," he drawled, his tone damn near playful. What the hell am I doing?!, he wondered frantically, Am I flirting with Granger?!
She rolled her eyes at him before standing and stretching languidly, "See to it that you don't, peasant. See to it that you don't."
"Peasant? As if. Are we done here?" he asked, scoffing as he scooted his chair back, nearly catching Crookshanks' tail in the process. The fluffy monstrosity hissed at him and gave Draco an agitated flick of his tail before stalking off into another corner of the common room.
Granger nodded absentmindedly and made her way to the loveseat Crookshanks had chosen to sprawl out upon, giving him some scratches on the belly and cooing at him while he purred in response. Draco rolled his eyes and stood up to stretch as well, unwilling to stick around for one more second of the disgusting display of affection. That stupid cat was a master at eliciting sympathy.
"I'd wish you a good night," Draco teased as he made his way to his bedroom, "But I can't even begin to imagine what inanities you Gryffindors must get up to when you have an excuse to celebrate. Knowing your housemates, someone's likely to end up choking on their own sp-"
Granger cut him off sweetly, "Don't want to hear it Malfoy. Just continue on your merry way and relieve me of your presence. Have fun getting alcohol poisoning!"
This time his grin was full-fledged, "That's the spirit, Granger."
A/N: Thanks to those of you who've expressed interest in this story! Heads up, next chapter is where things pick up and I'll be changing the rating of the story to reflect that when I'm ready to publish next week's chapter. I'll also be posting warnings about these things in the upcoming chapters in case you'd like to keep reading without reading the darkest parts. Find me on Twitter config_space, Tumblr configuration-space, and Reddit configuration-space if you'd like to connect with me online!