Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter 1
His heart grew ten times heavier when he boarded the train.
For the last time, he thought. Each step away from the castle weighed him down, filling his limbs with lead.
He never guessed his heart would ache to leave Hogwarts. Only two years prior, he loathed the school—his assignment. His prison. His coffin, and his own personal hell. Somehow, he found salvation between its walls; and after Voldemort's defeat, it became his sanctuary.
Leaving it sank his heart to his soles.
"Oh!"
His eyes flicked up at the sound, and he dodged to the right, avoiding the collision by a hair's breadth. The witch danced on the balls of her feet, arms flailing to regain balance.
Without a second thought, Draco reached out, his fingers wrapping around her upper arms.
Her hands landed on the crook of his elbows, and her feet planted firmly on the floor. "Oh, thanks, I didn't see you—" Brown eyes lifted to his face and widened when they took him in. "Draco," she whispered.
"Granger," he said stiffly. Acutely aware of the warmth of her arms and the faint strawberry scent of her shampoo, he released her and took a solid step back.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Ready to go home?" A corner of her lips twitched, as though—despite great effort—a smile refused to make an appearance.
Draco bit back the snark that had been building in his chest the entire cursed morning. "Ready or not. It's not like we have a choice."
"No," she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I suppose not."
A deep frown marred her pretty face, and the sight of it made him...uncomfortable. His feet shuffled restlessly as his hands slid into his pockets. "We all have to leave Hogwarts sometime." He grasped for something—anything—to say that might erase her dejected expression. "Although, if I were you, I'd stay at Hogwarts."
"Oh?" Her shoulders sagged.
Draco tutted. "Of course! Hogwarts is full of books and learning. Out there,"—he gestured out the window where tardy students rushed towards the train—"we're overrun with world-saving wankers and worse...Weasleys." His face twisted in mock disgust.
Hermione gave him a reproachful look, but beneath the thin layer of admonishment, her eyes sparked. The stiffness at the base of his neck eased.
"Harry and Ron are busy with Auror training," she said, glossing over his jibe. "So I won't be seeing them for a few weeks longer."
He opened his mouth to ask her where she was headed. Their friendship—or whatever it was between them—confused him at the best of times. Were they the type of friends that are privy to future plans? To social calendars? Another look at her countenance—friendly and warm, but decidedly cautious—snapped his jaws shut before the question could come out. Instead, he gave her a terse nod.
Movement caught at the corner of his eye; he turned his head.
"Excuse me." A young Hufflepuff glanced at them expectantly, the trunk he dragged behind nearly dwarfing him.
Hermione gave him a broad smile. "Sorry about that." She turned her smile on Draco and shrugged. "We should keep the corridor clear. Train's about to leave."
"Of course." Draco stepped aside, gesturing for the witch to pass him. "I'll see you around, Granger."
She stared at him a moment longer, the depth of her gaze drawing him in. Then, she nodded once and swept down the corridor.
He ducked his head into the nearest compartment, finding it empty. Sparing Hermione a final glance—she disappeared into a compartment at the other end—he stepped inside and settled in.
As the train whistled a final warning, he tried to keep his mind off the bewildering witch.
Rain streaked across the window as sunlight struggled against the steel clouds. He was too lost in Anna Karenina to bother with the weather, but after an hour of reading in low light, pain throbbed behind his eyes. Without lifting his gaze from the book, he pointed his wand before him and summoned a small flame.
He was halfway down the page when the sound pulled him out of his head.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The door shuddered with each knock as if whoever was on the other side was throwing their weight into their swing.
Draco snapped the heavy tome closed and marched to the door. Whoever it was, they were about to get chewed for being so blatantly rude. His fingers curled around the handle, and he slid the door open, a snarl ready on the tip of his tongue—
And found no one. He stepped out, looking up and down the length of the carriage. Not a single student lingered in the passageway.
With an irritated sigh, Draco stomped back into his lonely compartment and slammed the door. It was likely those blasted Gryffindors—a rowdy group of second- and third-year boys who made it their mission to be a thorn in everyone's side. Especially for Slytherins.
"Well," Draco muttered as he settled back onto the bench. "That's one thing I'm not going to miss."
For the most part, those boys left him alone. Everyone did—even the students in his House. As the only Slytherin to return for an 'eighth year,' they gave him a wide berth, either out of respect or enmity.
All except one.
Before he could dwell for too long—thoughts of Hermione Granger always came with a mixed bag of emotions—he picked up his book, eager to jump back into Tolstoy's captivating prose.
He had scanned three lines on the page before he noticed it.
The flame he had conjured still hovered five feet above the floor—blue like the ocean and as small as a thumbnail. Its light had erased the shadows that had been growing under the benches and above the shelves.
So when the shadow at the corner of his eye moved, breath hitched in his chest.
Draco froze, fingers clutching the hardcover and legs splayed out in front of him. His wand—tucked inside his robe. A vulnerable position, and whatever that was—a looming darkness in the periphery of his vision, expanding and contracting like it was breathing—panting—growing bigger—
Something deep inside him twinged. Not his heart, thundering inside his ribcage. Not his lungs, burning for oxygen. Something deeper still.
His soul. It knew what that thing was. And it screamed for him to run.
After they passed through the tunnel out of Hogsmeade, Hermione fell asleep. She had found an empty compartment, and, miraculously, was left undisturbed by boisterous younger students.
It was an empty kind of sleep—like falling into a void. Lonely, quiet. And blessedly dreamless.
A rare and welcome occurrence.
She was floating in the tranquil darkness when it happened.
A flash of ice—covering her entire body, burning through her skin, spearing through her bones.
And then she was yanked out of her slumber with such force that she fell forward onto her hands and knees. Her breath came in shuddering gasps as she stared, unseeing, at the scuffed floor.
It was here.
It was here.
"No-no-no," she whispered. Cold sweat sprouted on her forehead. "Please, no." Her muscles clenched as if the frost in her nightmare clung to her limbs.
She peeked through the curtain of curls hanging over her face. The compartment was empty, save for her bag on the opposite bench and her trunk on the overhanging shelf. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and forced her breathing.
A trembling breath in. A shaky breath out.
In. There's nothing here. There's nothing here.
Out. Safe. Safe. I'm safe.
Her eyes blinked open and, like a mouse coming out of hiding, she warily glanced around. There was a stillness inside the compartment; yet she assessed every innocuous shadow. By the time she rose to her feet, her heart rate slowed to a less troubling pace.
That feeling, though—that burning cold, like a call to her soul…
Something was here. But not for her.
Before her mind caught up, she had already thrown the door open and was racing down the corridor. Halfway down the carriage, a dull thud resounded from a compartment on the other end.
Her heart stuttered. Draco.
Hermione raced down the narrow path, her feet barely touching the worn carpet as she ran.
She reached the door she spied him entering earlier and pounded on the frosted glass window. "Draco!"
Hermione grasped the handle and jerked the door open. There, on the faded green floor, lay Draco Malfoy. And poised over his prone body—
Hermione raised her wand and screamed.