I
May 1997
Maybe it was because of habit, and maybe it was because he willingly thought of Dumbledore for the first time in months and stood in front of the man's office - fuck that gargoyle for not letting him in, Draco would find a way to submit a strongly-worded complaint to someone - but his feet carried him to the seventh floor corridor.
Taking a deep breath, Draco paced three times in front of the room, thinking, I need the place Hermione Granger went, wondering if she had wound up in the Room for some reason and if it would let him in if she were there.
She had mentioned before Potter had figured out he was doing something in the Room of Requirement, sometimes using a Polyjuiced Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. Draco couldn't decide if he was (grudgingly) impressed or concerned Potter's imagination led him to all these ridiculous conclusions. Had it not been exactly what Draco was doing, he would never have believed such a plot to be possible.
In any case, Draco tried to convince himself that Granger was just too curious and wanted to see what was in the Room, but when the wall stayed infuriatingly blank, he cursed to himself and tried again, wishing for the Room with the cabinet he needed.
As the black lines appeared on the wall and the door emerged, Draco slipped inside, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He hadn't been here in so long, he had almost forgotten what it was like here. Almost. He would have blocked the entire area from his memory had it not been featured several times in his nightmares.
Draco lit the tip of his wand with a nonverbal Lumos, scanning through the junk to see if Hermione was there for some reason. He traced the same path he always went until he was in front of the covered cabinet, calling Granger's name with each step.
If the two of them hadn't hated his task as much as they had, and if it wasn't bringing Death Eaters into the castle and committing literal murder, Draco would have gladly worked on the Vanishing Cabinet, if only to take his mind off Granger's disappearance.
But he would only loathe himself even more for working on the cabinet when he was so focused on Hermione, Hermione who hated his mission, Hermione who was missing, Hermione who wanted him to talk to Dumbledore and switch sides.
Like there could be that option for him, he had scoffed. Not when he was trying to be a murderer.
He couldn't help but let his mind wander, however, in times of silence. In moments of peace, like when Hermione was falling asleep on his shoulder or he was just closing his eyes in his bed, or when she was fucking missing and there was nothing he could do. It seemed almost cruel to wonder what it would be like if he could go to Dumbledore and - if he had to - beg the old geezer for help, to protect him and his mother. Maybe then he could be seen in a better light by Hermione and her friends, and they could see he wasn't evil, not anymore. Or maybe he was just tormenting himself by thinking about the what-ifs.
With a shout, Draco saw his foot shoot out and kick the cabinet, the wood groaning as the dragonhide leather made contact. He bit back a hiss at the flare of pain that shot up his foot, a grim smile on his face. He was sure he made the ancient armoire furious with him, and would probably have to spend the next month providing bribes and offerings in penance, but the impulsive action was still rather satisfying. Of course, he wouldn't be able to list this action if the Dark Lord ever wanted a status update, but what the manic lord living in his ancestral home didn't know wouldn't kill him. (He hoped it would but as he was not Harry-fucking-Potter, the odds of landing the finishing blow - or causing it - were slim to none.)
But as the pain faded, so did his amusement, and he was once again locked in his worry.
"Where the fuck could Granger be?" Draco let his fist smack satisfyingly at a nearby table, feeling a lot less satisfied when his hand immediately began to throb. "You better not be fucking broken," he told his hand stupidly. Flexing his hand for a few moments convinced him nothing was broken when the pieces clicked and he suddenly had an idea.
"I'm an idiot," he growled to himself, prowling out of the Room of Requirement and tearing down the halls until he was at the hospital wing.
Maybe she hadn't vanished off the premises, maybe she was just… terminally ill. Or she fell down the stairs or her bed or accidentally ate strawberries and had an allergic reaction. At least if she were in the hospital wing he could stay by her side the whole time and he had a good stamp on what was going on. This constant limbo of I don't know what's going on and I don't know how to help and I don't even know where she is was giving him a persistent headache. He rubbed at his temples as he opened the door, pleading for her to be sitting in one of the very uncomfortable beds.
"Mister Malfoy? Why is this the first time I have seen you all year?" Madam Pomfrey bustled away from another student - Slytherin with a black eye, interesting - and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips.
"I- I haven't been sick or injured," he said slowly, and she tutted to herself, giving him a once-over.
"But it seems you are malnourished and could use a good few nights of sleep," she said. "Sit down."
He hesitated, and she immediately reached out and snagged his arm, tugging him toward a bed until she could force him down. "At least you aren't playing that barbaric sport anymore," the matron grumbled to herself, "and I'm not getting you in here for any pointless injuries. Now, what is plaguing you?"
Draco peered at her. "As in, why I walked in, or what's stopping me from eating and sleeping?"
"At least your silver tongue is still in working order," Madam Pomfrey huffed, reaching into a nearby cabinet and plucking out a green apple. "Eat." She ordered, and he took the apple from her.
"I was curious how many students you had in the hospital wing," he said, staring at the apple. When he glanced up and noticed how she had paused, he immediately elaborated. "From the mysterious illness that is spreading, I mean. I wondered how many students were out of commission."
"There are only a handful of students that I'm holding for further observation, most of whom are Ravenclaws. I don't suppose you'd know why he has a black eye?" Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow and jerked her head back towards the Slytherin she was originally tending, and Draco shook his head, drawing a huff from the witch.
"Any Gryffindors?" He asked carefully, and her raised eyebrow grew even higher.
"None staying here, though we have a large number of them throughout the castle."
"Hilarious," he said sarcastically, a little shocked to hear sass back from the older witch who - based on what he had experienced - had never acted sarcastic before. "How many are sick?"
"I've had a Gryffindor walk in once or twice today, but nothing serious. Now, is it my turn to ask the questions? I would start with the reason behind your inquisition about my patients. While you're at it, eat that apple."
Draco sighed, taking a bite to appease her. "I'm looking for Granger, I need her for… classwork."
"Finally admitting that girl is beating you?"
"Was, not is. Was."
"Then why are you needing her for classwork?"
"Fine. Is," Draco grumbled, throwing a dirty look to the matron. She smirked at him.
"I haven't seen Miss Granger recently, but I can keep an eye out if you would like."
Draco shrugged. "It's not a big deal," he lied.
"Mhm," Madam Pomfrey said, clearly unconvinced, but Draco didn't have the energy to deal with her.
"Thanks for the apple," he stood and stretched, taking another bite, the fruit delicious and a touch sour, just how he liked it. Granger always teased him about his apple consumption - everything had to be sweet except his apples. "And you," he'd add, and she'd blush and the conversation would be derailed for a while.
"And who said I am clearing you to leave?" Draco glanced at the older witch, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"I'm not sick nor do I have any extreme concerns that require you to keep me overnight."
"Other than how I could count your ribs through your robes and the bags under your eyes could carry several bushels of apples," she said.
"Madam Pomfrey-" he started, but she smirked and waved a hand.
"Just stop by the kitchens to get dinner, finish that apple, and get a good night's rest tonight, understood?" She ordered, and he nodded quickly.
"Thank you," he said, quick to escape before she could drag him back in for one reason or another.
As Draco had seen neither the hide nor hair of Hermione, McGonagall, or Dumbledore, he was forced to stalk back to the library and silently fume in their corner. How was he supposed to find Granger and see for himself that she was okay? How was he supposed to be okay with sitting around and waiting when he didn't even know if she'd be back?
He forced himself to focus on what he could do until she returned in order to curb the sudden downward spiral and quell the panic attack he could feel rising before it was too strong to escape from. Pausing before he could reach the library, he ventured to the kitchens just as Pomfrey commanded, ducking into the shadows and peering down corridors before walking through them so he wouldn't be spotted by anyone.
Once inside, he ordered - requested, because even though Hermione wasn't with him he had been conditioned into treating the House Elves with kindness and respect and other such adjectives that made Hermione glow with pride when she saw his interactions with them - a large array of food, unsure of what she would want when - if - she returned from wherever she had gone. He also requested an assortment of sweets, and though he internally declared them for Granger, it was ultimately just for him, as his sweet tooth was four times the size of hers.
Nourishment procured and under several stasis charms, extra protection spells, and Disillusionment Charms in case Pince was sniffing around for crumbs, Draco once again was stuck. He managed to slip past Pince and all the other students to their spot.
Crookshanks, who had been at the library and in their spot as Draco walked in, the expression in his beady eyes making Draco wonder if the "cat" had been waiting for him, let out a soft purr as it spotted Draco, who set the food down in front of the creature. Draco hadn't seen Crooks around all day and had originally thought the beast was with its mistress.
"She left you too, huh?" He asked, looking down at the fat orange creature, who gave him a plaintive meow in response. "Any idea where she went?" When he didn't get a response - which was a good thing, had the "cat" actually responded, Draco might have hexed it into oblivion.
"Don't eat it, now, that's for Granger," he said with an authoritative tone, receiving only a slow blink in response. He paced the small area and wandered the shelves for anything to take his mind off her. At least he was getting plenty of exercise from running up and down the stairs and through the hallways all day. She had spent the past four months chiding him to exercise, it'll help for when you feel down, except it meant needing more energy than he had left in his body. He would have continued to pace a hole into the floor had Crookshanks not become fed up with his constant movement and sat on his foot.
Instead of kicking the demon beast off and infuriating it further, he was a Slytherin after all, and self-preservation was strong even in times of panic, Draco - dragging the foot with the "cat" on it - stumbled to the table and slumped into his chair. He let his head hit the table, narrowly missing the small bowl of pudding. Crooks leaped from his foot to his thigh and then landed atop Draco's head, and the Slytherin couldn't even find it in him to chide the demon for messing up with his hair and neck strength.
"If you were any heavier, my neck would snap," Draco grumbled after some time, and the purring volume only increased.
Maybe she went to the Astronomy Tower? Granger always mentioned Astronomy was one of her favourite classes, and the outside air always calmed her. It was getting darker, too, close to dinner, so maybe she had already made it to the Great Hall.
As he was planning his way to the Astronomy Tower, fighting off the sleep that was calling to him thanks to the warm, heavy presence of Crooks, Draco told himself he would get up and check the Tower for her. After a few minutes and he still was unable to move his limbs, he told himself another five minutes. And then another five minutes after that.
And then, he was out.
II
November 1996
Part II
"What are you just standing here for? You're acting as if you don't already have enough to do. Or are you skipping classes just for fun?" Snape sneered, causing Draco to jump with surprise. He hadn't heard his godfather approach. The way Snape was looking at him suggested he had no clue what "fun" was.
"I'm not skipping them for fun, I have shit to do, so let me do it already," he shot back, crossing his arms. There was too much tension in his body from his fight with Granger to be able to think properly, and it took almost all his concentration to triple-check his Occlumency shield in case his Professor had any bright ideas.
The greasy-haired professor grunted. "At least you're practising your Occlumency," he said, proving he was trying to break into Draco's mind.
Draco made to leave, knowing no good would come of the conversation, and then paused. "Professor," he started uneasily, "do you… I heard there was a possibility, provided we hadn't been inbreeding for years, that only Purebloods were supposed to inhabit Slytherin House?"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And why would half-bloods be excluded?" He asked.
"The same reasons Mug-Mudbloods are." Draco hoped that was subtle enough that his godfather wouldn't know his angle.
"The odds of that are unlikely," Snape didn't elaborate on what he meant, so Draco let that topic drop.
"What do you think of the word Mudblood?" Snape looked slightly stricken, which Draco could tell thanks to the slight downturn of his eyebrows and the minuscule narrowing of his eyes.
"What's wrong with it?" He finally asked dryly.
Draco shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's not the most creative term to put someone down. It's a critique against blood, something that can't be helped."
Snape gave him a long look but said nothing.
Draco tried again. "It's just that, I was raised to think the term was meant to emphasise a fact, not just to put someone down, and it wasn't until I used it-"
"I suggest you focus on what you're supposed to be doing instead of trying to solve blood prejudice."
"What's so wrong with that?" He feigned confusion.
"Listen well, boy, I'm only going to say this once. You do not have the time or energy to worry about that. Put it aside and stop mulling over whatever Miss Granger was shouting at you before I found you. Understood?" He waited until Draco gave a hesitant nod before continuing, "Now, tell me what you have planned. Is it another cursed object? I can help you, Draco, I swore an oath-"
"This isn't the kind of help I want," Draco said honestly through gritted teeth. He wanted his godfather to help guide him, to tell him if he'd been taught incorrectly as a child.
Snape leaned closer, black eyes glittering dangerously. "It's all the help you're going to get," he said darkly, and Draco knew Snape was merely ignoring his subtle pleas for direction.
"Then get out of my way," Draco thundered, storming past the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and hurtling down the corridor. He let his feet carry him anywhere, as far away from Snape as possible, but ran into a blonde someone significantly shorter than him just as he turned a corner.
He glanced down in surprise to see Luna Lovegood bouncing off his chest.
He started to say "Loony," and realised he was being an asshole again, so he shifted quickly. "Lovegood. Why aren't you at dinner?"
"I don't mind it when you call me Loony," she responded, and he blinked down at her.
"What?"
"Well," she tilted her head in thought, "I do mind it, but at least it doesn't hurt the way it hurts others when you insult something they can't control."
He almost asked if she could control the looniness, it was on the tip of his tongue, but cleared his throat and asked, "Did you happen to hear the argument between Granger and me?"
"The Grey Lady was nearby and heard the entire conversation. She told me because she was worried Hermione might kill you, but you were fine."
"Did the Grey Lady tell anyone else?"
"No," Lovegood said dreamily, "I asked her not to. I said it wasn't any of the other students' business."
"Well," he started, thinking carefully about his response, "thank you."
"You shouldn't beat yourself up so much," she advised airily.
He turned to face her incredulously. "I'm sorry, did you say I shouldn't beat myself up so much? After spending six years being a relentless bully to several of my classmates, not only being outright racist to half of them but also mocking others - yourself included!" He burst out, his chest heaving and gut swirling at the end. Saying his words and actions out loud-
"I didn't say you're right in any of these scenarios," a slight downturn of her eyebrows, the closest expression to a frown for Lovegood, crossed her face. "Only that you shouldn't beat yourself up so much."
Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes and moving to step around her so he could leave in peace. "Piss off if you don't have anything meaningful to add," he said harshly, reverting to old habits that made him want to chuck himself off the nearest tower. Could he not stop being cruel? Was that his curse, his lifelong "ability", just to be an overall tosser to everyone around him?
"The definition of something that is meaningful is different for everyone," she said, still staring at him. Draco didn't notice her blinking, either because she wasn't - which was a Luna Lovegood thing to do, he supposed - or because she was blinking when he was blinking, so- "but to put it in a way you understand: stop feeling sorry for yourself."
He blinked and glanced over his shoulder at her. "Excuse me?"
"I can see you pouting about what you've done. I'm glad you regret it, but you aren't doing anything to change your current behaviour, either." She gave a blasé shrug and began to walk past him.
"I'm sorry for being so cruel," he called after her and saw her shrug in response.
"I'm sure saying it to one's face makes the apology feel more sincere."
He took a few steps after her, intent on taking her advice, but as he neared her, she sped up. He kept pace, chasing after her, until he was literally chasing her, his legs burning as he ran after her.
Lovegood stopped suddenly at the steps to the Ravenclaw tower, and he had to skid to a halt before he crashed into her.
She was grinning dazedly at him when he managed to see her face, and he tried not to focus on the high likelihood she made him chase her like a bat out of hell for her own amusement. "Lovegood," he huffed, holding her amused gaze, "I'm incredibly sorry for everything I've said and done to you. How can I make it up to you?"
Lovegood tilted her head in thought, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. "I suppose you could… hm," she made a noise and fell silent, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited. "Focus on how you can change. You have to want it, Draco Malfoy. And once you do, act on it."
He could understand why she was in Ravenclaw. She was incredibly perceptive, and, when she wasn't… highly eccentric, she had wisdom seeping out of her pores. Then again, maybe she was so wise, those who weren't as eccentric as her couldn't process her wisdom. Or he was blowing smoke up his own ass.
"Thanks, Luna Lovegood," he said quietly, and she gave him a small smile, patted his cheek three times, handed him a blueberry she had in the pocket of her robes, and vanished.
Granger was avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding her. He wasn't looking for her, of course not, but he felt a strange satisfaction at the dark circles around her eyes and the way she would vanish whenever they saw each other in the corridors. He hoped she was tired; he hadn't slept in days, all because of her little moral confrontation that turned his entire world upside down.
A Muggleborn Hufflepuff - his name had something to do with birds; Goose? Sparrow? - was so busy laughing with a Housemate that he stepped on Draco's foot and, to add insult to injury, elbowed him as he whirled around to see what he'd stepped on.
"Er, Malfoy, didn't see you there," he said, sharing a glance with the witch who walked beside him.
"Watch where you're going," Draco growled. He bit back the harsh, "Mudblood," he instinctively wanted to hiss, twisting his lips into a frown to indicate displeasure and to stop himself from saying something he didn't think he could - didn't think he wanted to - say anymore. Draco swept past the Hufflepuff with a sneer, using what Snape taught him when he was little to have his robes billow frighteningly behind him.
Having heard it from Granger's mouth, it was as if something was knocked loose in him. A puzzle piece snapping into place; now that he was understanding the weight of his words, it seemed he was more careful with how to wield them.
It wasn't until he was almost to the end of the hall that he noticed Granger frowning at him from the bench beside him. He had almost missed her, and it seemed he only caught a glimpse because she had lowered the enormous tome that was hiding her face from view.
"Granger," he said cautiously, and she dipped her head in greeting. That wasn't the typical response in Pureblood customs, and he was unsure of what to say next. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, glancing first to the stone floor and back to her. "I'm, er, I'm sorry. For calling you-" he paused, "all these years. And for all the other insults. And jinxes. And-"
She hid her small smile - it was more of a slight curvature to her lips, but he saw it, it was there - but said softly, "Thank you. I guess I'm sorry, too, for some of the things I said."
"Some of them? Not all?" He teased, the air slightly clearer between them. Teasing her was new, and it felt almost… refreshing.
"Well, I feel that you had a lot more to apologise for."
Draco felt his shoulders tighten at the nasty truth. "You're right about that." When he saw her curious expression, he hurriedly restored his airy attitude, adding cheekily, "Don't expect to be right every time we speak, though. Only occasionally."
Her smile - this time marginally larger - was teasing. "Only occasionally? That can't be true, because then it means you are mostly right, and you couldn't even tell Flitwick the proper terminology last period for-"
"Yes, yes," he interrupted, "I see your point. Was that all, or may I attend class without you holding me up here for more of my stellar conversing skills?" He felt lighter than normal, the buoyant feeling strange enough he was looser around her, joking more than either of them was used to, based on the stiffness still evident in their shoulders.
"Finally attending class?" Granger grinned. "Maybe I was just trying to make you late enough Professor McGonagall gives you detention for tardiness."
"That would mean beating me through the door, a difficult feat considering you're still sitting here."
"Oh, I had a plan for that, I was to send several tripping jinxes your way and, if you had caught up to me by then, pushing you out of the way so I could make it into the doorway just in time." She slipped her book into her bag, slinging it over a shoulder and following half a step behind him as he marched down the corridor.
"Ah, that is genius," he chuckled, wondering if he were floating down the hall, "you'd make a fine Slytherin."
"Tell that to the Sorting Hat," she snorted. "And Salazar himself."
He glanced down at her and noted her small frown, so Draco nudged her with an elbow. "We're missing out."
"So," she started as they walked up the stairs, "you didn't call Justin a-"
"No," he cut in, and left it at that. He felt her inspecting him, so he quickened the pace he had slowed down for her shorter stature, forcing her to a near jog to keep up. "We're getting quite a few stares," he noted aloud, and she snorted.
"We'll have to have a big blowout and duel to remove the rumours that will grow," she said, and he grinned.
"What a wonderful idea."
He shot a trip jinx at her, laughing at her muffled curse, and then he wasn't laughing because he was a cockroach.
Literally.
She at least had the decency to levitate his bug form with her as she ran to class, dropping him outside the door and removing the transfiguration - away from McGonagall's watchful eye - once the bell rang.
He spent his entire detention writing lines while plotting what to charm her with the next time she tried to sit down in her seat at the library.
Their conversation had felt natural, and though he knew neither one of them had forgotten how he'd treated her - and half the Hogwarts' population, for that matter - it felt a little like forgiveness. And a chance to try anew.
a/n: please note I have never in my life had a cat nor have I had one rest on my head, so this moment between Draco and Crookshanks is entirely fictional (more so than the rest of the story, I guess, lol) as I am unsure if this is common practice or remotely comfortable. I just thought it was cute.
Snape is an asshole confirmed. I originally had a short shift in Draco's perspective on blood purity, but started wondering if it would make things… more if I expanded on it and… well, here you go.
Next update: 6/12
- Meg
