1996

Draco hated going to Azkaban to visit his father. He went twice a year, and only at his Grandfather Abraxas's request. His father looked more and more terrible every time that he saw him, his long blond hair stringy and dirty, his eyes wild and crazed. No matter how insane Lucius looked, he always managed to deliver cutting remarks that put his mum in quite a mood.

He hated the way the man that had sired him looked down on all the positive changes that his mum was making, complaining about mudbloods ruining the Malfoy name. Draco thought it was ironic that he was so concerned, when Lucius had done more to ruin the Malfoy name than anything he or his mum could ever hope to accomplish.

It was a draining, trying experience, to be reminded that your father thought you were a failure and a disappointment. He liked to think that what Lucius thought of him didn't matter, but it would be a week before he could get the negative comments out of his head.

That's why he was so grateful when Hermione was waiting for him at the entrance to the Headmaster's office when he returned from his visit, wrapping him up in a quick hug. She knew all the horrible details of what his father had done as a Death Eater, and he knew that he didn't have to hide from her, but she didn't go out of her way to make him talk about his feelings.

Draco was content to feel her warmth seeping into him, his nose buried in her hair while he breathed in her bright scent.

"Off to visit your Death Eater daddy, then, Malfoy?" Weasley's voice pierced the calmness of the hallway.

While he was generally liked by all of his classmates, Weasley did not seem able to let go of his hatred of him. As the redhead constantly wore a chip on his shoulder, it was no surprise that he resorted to name calling and underhanded remarks to get a rise out of Draco. It was a pity that it always seemed to work so well.

He hated having any association with his father made, hoping that he could be seen as his own man like his mother had promised. It was an uphill battle, he knew, owing that he could thank Lucius for some of his good looks, the older professors commenting on how much he'd grown up to look like him. Draco didn't want to be told that he seemed anything like the man who'd made a sport of killing muggles.

"Just ignore him," Hermione said tersely, squeezing his hand in hers, trying to convince him to take the high road as always.

"Do you need your little girlfriend to fight all your battles for you?" Weasley sneered, not sensing that Draco's emotions were already raw, already on edge from the visit he'd just had. "Does your scum father know that you like to fuck a muggleborn? Or, let's be real, he'd call her a mudblood."

Draco had drawn his wand, pointing it in Weasley's direction before he could even think. His heart was pounding in his chest, his pulse rushing in his ears drowning out all the other noises. "Don't you dare talk about Hermione that way, Weaselbee," he sneered. "And Hermione's not my girlfriend."

The thought of Hermione and fucking in the same sentence was doing something peculiar to his mind, sending images - forbidden images - behind his eyes. Of course you'd have to be bloody blind not to see how pretty Hermione had grown over the years, but...she was his friend and...anything else seemed tantalizingly out of reach. It wasn't something he wanted. Right?

"Run along Weasley, before I give you detention," Hermione instructed, wanting to use her status as a fifth year prefect to avoid a duel in the hallway, if she could help it. Draco knew that she wouldn't hesitate to take house points from him if he cast a jinx in front of her.

Weasley scoffed at her. "You're delusional Granger," he answered back, but made to move like he was going to leave. "Even he doesn't want you."

When Weasley was finally gone, Draco turned to see Hermione looking upset. Hurt even. Her eyebrows were knit together in confusion, and he could practically hear her brain whirring away, overthinking things. Her jaw was clenched and he knew that she was holding off on telling him whatever it was that she wanted to.

Stepping closer to her, he pressed his hands to her shoulders. He hoped that she wasn't hurt by his vehemence, but he had wanted to set the record straight. "Hey, you know that I didn't mean it in a negative way, right?"

Hermione had to crane her neck up to look at him these days, and Draco wondered when she'd grown so short. Or maybe, when he'd grown so tall. "Right, no need to apologize," she snapped at him.

Then he knew that she was hurt. "It's not that I don't like you," he said in a rush, feeling his heart skip a beat at the words. "I do like you. You are my best friend, Hermione." It was true, too. He might have Harry and Alphard now, but there was no denying that still, after all these years, different houses and growing up, Hermione was his best friend. He couldn't imagine a world where they didn't get along.

"Of course, best friends," Hermione nodded, her voice wavering. She broke eye contact first, before shaking out of his hold and turning to leave. "I've got some more homework to catch up on," she dismissed him. "Maybe I will see you later."

He wanted to call after her, to talk more about...whatever the hell had just happened, but he didn't know what more he could say. All he knew was that he hurt Hermione, but he wouldn't be able to fix anything now, not when she was in one of her stubborn moods. Feeling more confused than ever about Hermione, he decided to return to his dorm in Slytherin for some introspection.