"This is a terrible idea," Draco said for probably the tenth time as they faced the door to his doom.

Doom might have been being a little dramatic but he was walking into a room full of Gryffindors of his own free will.

"It is not. They asked to hang out with you, remember?" Hermione reminded him–for probably the fifteenth time—as she poked his crossed arms.

"I do not believe you. This is you trying to make us all be friends." Draco continued to glare at the door because if he looked at her, he wouldn't be able to keep this up anymore. She'd be giving him her own version of Theo's look… all wide-eyed and hopeful. She'd look happy and he wouldn't be able to turn her down because it had been too long since there was a look of joy behind her eyes.

"You're friends with Ginny and Harry." Hermione continued to poke his arms in various spots, trying to get his attention.

"No. You're friends with Ginny and Harry. I love you and thus I tolerate them. It's different," he said, his voice firm.

"Please. Just give it thirty minutes. If it's as terrible as you imagine, we'll leave," she promised.

He risked a glance to the side and felt his resolve slipping. "And we can sit on the couch?" She nodded slowly. "And I can lay in your lap?" She laughed softly and reached for his hand.

"You can do that anyway. And I'll pet your hair for as long as you like," she said while lacing their fingers together.

With a heavy sigh, Draco looked at their hands and then back at her, "Fine. Let's go."

Hermione walked ahead of him and the minute the door opened, it was like someone had cast Silencio . All conversation ceased and Draco immediately wanted to bolt.

He'd avoided people after the war for this reason. It wasn't usually a positive interaction and injuries were likely. For him.

In the room, Weaselette was perched on Potter's lap in a desk chair, Finnigan and Thomas were cuddled together on a conjured sofa, and Longbottom was manning a makeshift bar behind what should've been a teacher's desk. It appears his Granger had wrangled moral support by inviting Lovegood and Tracey to this little gathering as well.

The two he was concerned about were Finnigan and Thomas. He'd made progress with everyone else in this room, but he'd given those two some space. Finnigan was notoriously hot-headed, even to other Gryffindors like Potter.

Merlin only knew how he'd react to a Slytherin former Death Eater.

And Thomas…well he was Muggleborn as well. And he'd suffered his own share of torment in school at the hands of Draco and his friends.

"Malfoy," Ginny finally broke the silence. "Come on in. Have a drink."

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione said brightly and dragged him by the hand fully into the room. Where there was still an unnerving amount of silence.

Draco took the firewhiskey—a generous poor, he noted—from Longbottom's outstretched hand.

"Good luck, mate," Neville mumbled under his breath.

Draco stared into his glass and vaguely listened to Hermione try to fill the silence by talking about homework assignments or peppering Tracey with questions about the program. He heard snippets of the conversation around him and it all felt stilted. Awkward.

It reminded him too much of the awkward dinners his parents used to host with their society friends. All small talk and no real substance. The same stories told every time. The same boring jokes. It was superficial and not at all like the boisterous conversation he'd witnessed across the Great Hall for years.

He hated it.

He hated that he was dragging Hermione into it. That he was tainting her interactions with her friends.

He wanted to run from this and pretend it hadn't happened. But that would put Hermione in an awkward position and she'd dealt with enough. So he channeled his bold Gryffindor girlfriend and decided to face the problem head-on.

"Sorry to interrupt, love," Draco broke into the conversation. "But I feel like we should just address the hippogriff in the room." He looked up at Finnigan and Thomas.

"I'm sure you both have things you'd like to say. Or a few spells you're itching to throw. And I think it'll be better for everyone involved if you just get it all out."

"Draco–"

"No, Granger. I can take it. And I more than deserve it." He stepped away from her and put his glass down. "In your own time."

It was silent and still for what felt like an eternity. Finnigan was the first to move.

"Seamus, please. Let's not," Thomas tried to reason with him and grabbed his hand.

"No. No, he's right. I have things to say," Finnigan stated, ripping his hand away and Draco saw it twitch to his pocket where his wand likely was. "How many people did you kill for that monster?"

"Wow, jumping right in are we?" Potter mumbled into his own drink.

"Four," Draco answered numbly. He saw the shock on Granger's face in his periphery. Things had happened in the war that they hadn't discussed. And to his credit, the four he'd killed were Death Eaters that were deemed unworthy or traitorous to the cause. Not exactly innocents, but they were still deaths he'd carry with him.

"Anyone we went to school with?" Thomas asked. He didn't seem angry but more sympathetic. Draco supposed Thomas had seen a lot while on the run and would be more inclined to see the world in shades of grey.

"No. No one you would've known or missed."

"How many people did you torture in that big mansion of yours?" Finnigan continued with his interrogation.

Draco hesitated. This number was much larger and there had been too many familiar faces bleeding and bruised on the marble in his home.

Two of whom were in this room.

"107. I counted each one so I wouldn't forget what I'd done," Draco admitted with a swallow. "And yes, there were people from school and people we knew."

"How fucking could you? How could you look at them and Crucio them?" Finnigan shouted.

"It was either watch my parents in their position or do what I had to. People I loved were threatened daily. I took my own fair share of punishments when I could," Draco stated calmly. He found it best in these situations that getting emotional and defensive just pissed people off more.

"You probably enjoyed it, didn't you?" Finnigan shouted back.

"Actually, he was quite ill afterwards," Lovegood's dreamy voice broke the rising tension.

"Lovegood, it's fine," Draco sighed.

"You tortured Luna?" Thomas asked incredulously.

"Dean. Seamus. I think you're being unfair to Draco," Luna stated. "He occluded while it happened. And when he cast the spells they didn't always hurt as bad so I imagine he didn't mean them."

"He tortured you, Luna!" Finnigan yelled and his hand gripped the wand in his pocket.

"Yes. And then he brought me food, blankets, and potions during the night so I wouldn't be in so much pain. The dungeons were a good place to hide for Draco while he got sick. It was not easy or enjoyable," Luna asserted, her usually relaxing voice taking on a slightly hard edge.

"Look, we can all play who had it worse and turn this evening into a depressing mind-healing session. Or we can let Finnigan three free shots and we all move on," Draco stated firmly. "Sound alright to you, Finnigan?"

"Works for me," the other wizard said, drawing his wand.

"Draco, you don't have to do this." Hermione said while nervously wringing her hands.

"I've survived worse," Draco repeated her mantra back to her. "No one intervenes unless one of us violates the agreement. Understood?"

He was met with a quiet rumbling of concurrence from the others in the room.

Draco took out his wand and placed it on the table nearest him. He put his hands behind his back and planted his feet in a wide stance to brace himself.

"Let's have it, Finnigan. Three free shots."

Finnigan drew his wand and cast a particularly vicious stinging jinx that hit Draco on the exposed skin of his neck and jaw. Draco didn't even flinch considering the number of Crucio s he'd suffered had strengthened his pain tolerance.

Finnigan then shocked Draco by casting Crucio. It was quick and clearly not well practiced, but strong. So he'd clearly meant it. Draco heard gasps and shouting from around the room through the ringing of his ears, but he still didn't fall.

"I didn't give him any limits so he's within his rights. One more, Finnigan," Draco gritted out.

" Flagrante, " Finnigan yelled and the flames shot from his wand directly toward his chest. The flames burned through the jumper he had on and marked his skin with the curved shape of a slithering snake.

"Enough!" Hermione shouted as Draco stumbled slightly from the pain. He felt her hands on his arm and heard her muttering healing spells to close the wound and try to prevent scarring.

"We good, then?" Draco looked Finnigan directly in the eyes.

"We're good," Finnigan nodded, satisfied that justice had been served.

"Thomas?"

"You can call me Dean, you know. We were fine before you let my boyfriend curse you, so yeah. We're good," Dean stated.

"Boys." Hermione and Ginny simultaneously sighed in annoyance.

"Great. Granger?"

"Yes, love?"

"You mind letting me lay down while you're working on my chest? I can feel the post- Crucio tremors coming on." Draco was promptly helped to the ground and was handed his wand and a nearly full glass of firewhiskey.

Draco downed it in one and then sighed as he rode out the pain.

Once Hermione had worked her healing magic and Draco's jumper had been repaired, the group had a slightly tense but pleasant night of reminiscing about Quidditch matches—much to Hermione's displeasure—and the drama of their younger years before the war.

He'd even managed to get a reluctant laugh out of Finnigan when he told the story of how he and Blaise had floated Theo's mattress out on the Black Lake and then shot sparks at him until he woke up flailing and then fell promptly into the chilly water.

"Sounds like the shit we used to pull on Neville before he was the great snake slayer of Gryffindor," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah. You all were hilarious. Charming my shoes to tap-dance, tailoring my uniform to be two inches too short, hiding my pajamas when I went to shower…good times!" Neville said while pouring another round of drinks and throwing corks from the butterbeer bottles at his friends.

"Thank you for respecting our comedic genius," Finnigan said with a mock bow.

"I hear your genius is more of the making-things-explode variety," Draco chuckled and slung an arm around Hermione's shoulder. She was flagging and starting to use him as a pillow.

"You make something explode in first year and suddenly you're the fire guy."

Potter snorted. "Seamus, mate, you made things explode on a yearly basis and it was rarely intentional. Yes, you're the fire guy!"

"I didn't hear anyone complaining when I took down an ancient bridge and saved everyone's arses!"

"Yes, we are forever grateful for your talents, babe." Dean gripped Finnigan's jaw and pulled him in for a kiss.

Draco looked at the love the two shared and felt a pull in his chest toward the witch who was slowly curling up in his lap like the cat she once had. He placed a tender kiss on the crown of her head and twined his fingers with hers.

He observed the other couples also exchanging a tender moment.

And then there was Neville.

"Merlin… you all make commitment look very appealing," Neville sighed mournfully.

"You have witches and wizards lining up, Nev. Pick one," Ginny declared.

"I'm holding out for true love!"

"And enjoying the perks of being a war hero in the meantime," Tracey chimed in on a stage whisper.

The group devolved into laughter as Neville's face turned the brightest shade of red. Hermione sighed happily and pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

"Not so bad, right?"

He looked into those big, brown eyes full of hope. "No. Not so bad."

Hermione was distracted. She'd gotten her Potions, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic essays back and had been sifting through her professors' comments. Her friends had all tried to pull her out of the library hours ago, but she insisted that she needed to find her mistakes and analyze where she went wrong.

Draco had asked her to not be too late and to try to find someone else in the library to leave with. He was still worried about Ron and Astoria. They'd both been glaring at her and making snide comments since her and Draco had become more public in their relationship. It felt like flaunting it—like she was asking for a reaction or retaliation.

And it appears she had been.

"It must be my lucky day," Astoria's shrill voice echoed off the castle walls. Hermione looked up to find her path blocked by a group of Slytherins. Most of which she didn't recognize but they looked to be a few years below her.

"Astoria," Hermione greeted and discreetly looked behind her to see if she could simply turn around. No such luck. More younger Slytherins blocked her the route she'd just come from. It was just them, late at night, alone in a long hallway.

"I can't believe he'd choose you. What does he even see in you?" Astoria stalked toward Hermione and the groups on either side pushed in as well. Hermione tucked her books and papers in her bag and dropped it to the stone where it landed with a soft thud. She subtly drew her wand from her robes.

She'd fought Death Eaters. She was a decorated war heroine. And this little twit wasn't going to hex her and not get a good fight.

"Perhaps he simply tired of your simpering looks. Or you remind him far too much of his mother. That tends to be a turn off for most men," Hermione calmly replied with a saccharine smile on her lips.

Astoria shot a slicing hex and Hermione's left arm. It barely landed as Hermione dodged the spell. "I tried to be nice, mudblood. Tried to warn you to stay away from him. You didn't listen. So now you must face the consequences."

"Consequences. What an interesting way to look at a petty revenge plot," Hermione spat as blood stained her shirt. She raised her wand to cast at Astoria, but she was hit from behind with an Expelliarmus. Her vinewood wand flew from her hand and clattered down the hall.

The next thing she knew, colors from various spells burst in the small space as Astoria and her band of violent followers cast hexes, jinxes, and curses at her. Hermione had enough wandless magic to maintain a weak shield.

Her vision started to blur from the strain and from the pain of her injuries. She could feel cuts on her face, legs, arms…and she was pretty sure someone had attempted a weak Crucio based on the fire burning her nerves.

She closed her eyes and let unconsciousness take her.

You've survived worse , she thought before she blacked out.

When she came to, she crawled to her wand and used the walls to drag herself to her feet. Who knows how long she'd been out, but it was still dark outside so she was hopeful it hadn't been too long. Draco and the others would be worried if she wasn't back by now.

Hermione limped into an empty classroom and slumped into a desk. Looking at her body, she realized that they'd continued hexing and cursing her even after she'd lost consciousness. Her uniform was torn and dirty and there were too many bruises and open wounds to count.

Digging into her bag she found the kit she'd never gotten rid of with dittany, bruise paste, and a Pepper-Up and Blood Replenishing potion. Hermione downed the potions with a grimace and started healing the major wounds.

Hermione sighed heavily and summoned her Patronus. "Find Draco. Lead him here. Draco, I need help."

She sent the otter off as the tears started to brim. She continued to heal her wounds and eventually forced herself to stand to get a feel for the full extent of the damage.

Draco suddenly burst into the room and stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

"Hi," she said, voice small. He was at her side in a moment.

Draco tilted Hermione's chin up to get a better look at her face and the evidence of the fight. He delicately thumbed away a streak of blood by her mouth, saying nothing as he examined it. After a brief pause, Hermione's heart skipped a nervous beat as Draco looked her dead in the eyes. His voice was quiet and tense with barely restrained anger. "Who did this to you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm fine. I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know you can. I wouldn't dare insinuate otherwise. That doesn't mean I don't want to exact my pound of flesh." Draco's jaw tightened. He was trying desperately to hold his rage back. She knew he believed she didn't deserve to be on the receiving end and he wanted to unleash its full potential on the degenerates who had dared to touch her. "Tell me."

As if her bravery and courage had run out, Hermione felt the tears well in her eyes. She could handle this. You've survived worse, she thought. Her mantra was starting to feel empty with how much she'd used it recently. But part of her wanted to just sink into him and let someone else take care of her, let someone else solve her problems. As the first tear fell, she saw his eyes flash with anger before softening just for her. She gave in.

"Astoria. She had a group of other Slytherins but they were just there to block me in. Astoria cast the first spells and looked to be the ringleader."

He wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her to his chest. With a kiss to the top of her head, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. "Can you walk?"

She tested her leg and there was soreness but nothing she couldn't handle so she nodded.

"Don't be brave. If it hurts, tell me. If you want me to carry you, tell me."

She fought back another wave of tears. "I'm okay. I can walk."

He pulled back to look in her eyes. "Go find Theo. He's in our room, probably with Pansy so knock… loudly . I don't want you to be alone and I have business to take care of right now."

"Draco, don't," she whispered. "Please…just let this go. Or wait until you're thinking more clearly."

Draco sighed heavily and rested his forehead against hers. "Compromise. I'll walk you to the common room. Get you settled. Take a minute to cool off. Then, I'm going because I will not allow this to stand. People don't get to hurt you like this anymore, not when you're with me. And certainly not because you're with me."

Hermione pondered his words as his hands gently threaded into her curls. He was right that there should be consequences, but at what cost? She didn't want to be like these people who acted so quickly with violence. She didn't want to encourage it.

"Don't do anything stupid or overly violent, please. Just…be better than they are. Shout at her or whatever, but just…don't do this to her." She gestured at her face. "I don't want to be the reason another woman has to cover bruises. Even a bitch like Astoria."

Draco chuckled. "Fine. Mild threatening and a few fourth year level hexes. Got it."

He wrapped an arm around her waist to take most of her weight, summoned her belongings, and made good on his word to walk with her.

Draco watched her sleep on the sofa in the common room for ten minutes before storming off to find Astoria. Theo, Pansy, and Daphne were all watching her now.

He'd promised Hermione that he would take some time and he had. But every time he looked at her, he saw a spot of blood in her hair or a new bruise and the fire of his anger was stoked to a blaze again.

She'd suffered enough. He's made the promise to himself that she wouldn't be in anymore pain so long as he was around.

And he'd failed.

She'd been alone and someone had hurt her. When would people stop hurting her?

None of their friends had argued with him, surprisingly. They'd all gotten a bit protective of her and he imagined Pansy was more pissed off that she wasn't going with him. Daphne had been eerily quiet. Probably trying to come to terms with the fact that her little sister was truly capable of such violence.

There had been rumors during the war about Astoria's bloodlust. She was too young to really fight but her obsession with his Aunt Bellatrix was obvious to anyone in the inner circle. It seems some of the rumors of her training were true.

Fortunately, some of the rumors about Draco's training were also true. He was a Malfoy. He was a branded Death Eater. He had done things during the war that he wasn't proud of, but all of that was about to come in handy when it came to dealing with Astoria.

He wouldn't hurt her. Hermione had been right about not wanting another woman to be covered in bruises because of an angry man.

But he'd use his reputation to scare her enough that even thinking of hurting Hermione would cause her to feel ill.

It didn't take long to find the witch. She had her usual haunts and Draco found her lounging in an alcove with her cronies, laughing loudly over bottles of Butterbeer.

"Greengrass," Draco barked. "A word. Now."

"Finally see what you've been missing?" she responded with a smirk.

Draco didn't bother responding. He just stared her down, arms crossed, trying to keep his anger in check.

Astoria sighed and gracefully rose from the ground. "Shall we?"

Draco tipped his head to the right to indicate she should walk ahead. She strolled on, clearly not realizing the severity of the situation. Draco prowled behind her. Astoria stopped a few paces away and leaned against the wall, hands behind her back, ankles crossed, and pushing her chest out. Clearly trying to appear seductive, but all Draco saw was the epitome of Slytherin's conniving reputation.

"Well?" Astoria prompted when Draco remained silent.

"Drop the act, would you? I'm not interested. Never have been." Draco's voice was clipped and flat as he responded.

"Did she run crying into your arms?" Astoria asked with a slow smile.

Draco snapped and crowded her space. He didn't touch her, but she wasn't getting out of this. Astoria's smile fell as she realized nothing about this would be the passionate moment she wanted.

"You little bitch. I know you think you are the next Bellatrix Lestrange, Merlin knows why you'd want to be. But let me tell you…you are not her. And even if you were, it's nothing compared to me," Draco snarled. "You attended meetings and had your little tutoring sessions with a madwoman. Do you know what I did?"

Draco stared into her eyes and waited for an answer.

"It wasn't a rhetorical question, Astoria. Do. You. Know," he drawled.

"I-I-I heard rumors…" she stuttered out.

"Oh rumors…usually an exaggerated version of events, like for you. For me…they were more palatable versions of the truth." Draco kept his voice level and never broke his eye contact. "No. I had to prove myself. I had a family to protect if I didn't obey. I was the youngest Death Eater to be marked. And I'm an Occlumens. I could turn off the part of my brain that felt fear, that felt sympathy. I could get the job done and look completely unaffected."

Astoria swallowed and Draco watched the fear in her eyes grow.

"Yes. I did some terrible things. I didn't enjoy them, but make no mistake…I am more than capable. And for you? Oh, I would enjoy it. I would enjoy watching you in as much pain as you put her in. But she still has a soul. She asked me not to hurt you for what you did tonight. And I love her, so I'll respect her wishes." Draco finally drew his wand and dragged the tip of it along Astoria's hairline.

"But make no mistake, you hurt like that again…if you so much as bump into her in the hallway and leave a bruise…no person on this Earth will be able to save you from my wrath. Do you understand?"

Astoria was frozen and Draco clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"Not rhetorical, Astoria…"

"Yes," she rushed out to say. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. So glad we had this little chat." Draco pocketed his wand and strode away from her and back to the witch who made him feel good and whole. He needed the reminder that he wasn't all evil and darkness. It was there, but he'd keep it on a leash.

He'd be the man Hermione Granger deserved.