Chapter Three

Draco had never felt so mortified in his life. Not when Potter out-flew him their second year, not when Buckwheat clawed his arm in front of all his friends, and not even when fake-Moody turned him into a scrambling, scared ferret. This was worse than all those moments. His entire body had turned a bright shade of red as he swayed upside down, side to side in nothing more than his underwear.

Some seventh year Gryffindors had cast a Petrificus Totalus spell on him when he had been using the restroom. They had hung him up right outside of their next class allowing everyone who passed by to laugh at his shame. No friends would show up to save him. Silas and Leanne would be on the way to their own classes and there was no one else whom he thought would rescue him. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to be furious, to be able to take revenge on them, or to at least have enough pride left to yell at them. Instead, he felt like he was going to cry.

"Oi! What's with the dumb look you've got plastered on your face? Not enjoying yourself?" someone sneered.

Another student pushed him, making his body sway more leaving Draco with a queasy feeling in his stomach.

"Got something to say mate? Go on! Spit it out then!" another student laughed.

"Now your dark mark is on display for everyone to see!"

"Ya! Your family may have been pardoned, but you're nothing more than a dirty death eater." The students around him continued to throw insults at him, cackling over their own cleverness.

For weeks, the other kids had left Draco alone, scared of the dark magic he used to possess. However, they had begun to realize how docile he was in comparison to his past. They had begun to push him, little by little, playing pranks on the Dark Lord's underling. It started with passing remarks, the occasional shove in the hallways. Then a dungbomb was let off under his desk. He had even found a white ferret in his bed the week before. Clearly, things had escalated. He was permanently humiliated. There would be no escaping the cruel students of Hogwarts. As he waited in agony for someone to finally release him, he thought back to a conversation he had had with his father before he had left.

"You don't have to go back my love" cooed his mother, stroking his shiny, platinum hair. She had been coddling him more the closer they came to September 1st. "You can stay here with your father and I. We have more than enough money to stay comfortable."

It was true. They had lost their reputation, the trust of anyone they had ever had connection to, but they hadn't lost their money. But Draco needed more in life than just money to be happy. He needed her.

Draco smelt his father before he heard him. Lucius had taken to drinking, the loss of his reputation being too much for him to bear without a crutch.

"Foolish boy" he sneered, "You think that Hogwarts will just take you back with open arms? That they will forgive you as they have forgiven us?" Lucius opened his arms in a mocking demonstration.

"I've told you father, I've changed. I've made friends. Good friends. Real friends! They might not worship me like they used to, but I don't want that anyways. I just want to properly graduate."

"Rubbish. You think they will let your crimes go? You're even dumber than I thought. They will torture you, torment you, until you are forced to leave. That, or until you screw up your new little act and get yourself expelled. I'm not in a position to protect you from your stupidity any more. Mark my words. They will push you until you break." His words were harsh, but his eyes shined with truth. It didn't matter though. He would just have to persevere through the trials.

Draco felt his heart yearn for a different path, an easier path. The class had given up on their snickering, moving on to more interesting subjects, but they had not released him from their torment. He felt his resolve begin to slip away as the minutes ticked by. Soon everyone would leave for their class, and Draco had no doubt they would go without him. His eyes shut, losing all his remaining hope, which made him unprepared for his release and consecutive fall.

Draco's head thudded against the stone floor, his brain smashing against his skull. It hurt less than he thought it ought to, but the impact still left him dazed. He looked up to his savior only to find a silhouette in its place. But there was no mistaking that frizzy mangle of hair. After what felt like minutes, he finally regained his senses, only then realizing the silence that cut through the air. All the students stood frozen, watching his savior intently, but she only looked at him. Draco had to resist hugging her, instead opting to bow his head and whisper a gentle 'thank you' before rushing back to the Slytherin dormitory. As grateful as he was, it was outweighed by his utter mortification. Hermione had seen him in such a vulnerable state, and then saved him from it. Tears welled up in his eyes until they began to pour out. And thus, Draco Malfoy spent the rest of his night crying every tear he had held back for years.

*

Words could not describe the fear that the seventh year Gryffindors felt under the scrutinization of both Hermione Granger and Headmistress McGonagall. They felt no remorse for what they had done to Draco, but they surely regretted it. Nothing was worth getting on the Headmistress' bad side.

After Draco had run off, Hermione immediately took the entire class to be punished by McGonagall. She didn't understand the sadness she felt for him. She had said she forgave him, even had agreed to tutor him, but that didn't take away the years of torture. She had thought she would feel some satisfaction from her old tormentor turn tormented, but she had found there to be none. She only felt pity. Of course, no satisfaction would outweigh what she had felt slapping him across the face during their third year. He had run away with his tail between his legs back then. Now, however, watching him run away in the same manner brought on sadness, and a bit of anger.

Remembering his nearly naked body brought a blush to her cheeks, but she was quickly able to mask it with another glare at the students as Headmistress McGonagall continued to chastise them. Draco was way more muscular than she had thought. Of course months of clearing away heavy rubble without magic would have some effect on his body, but he had hidden it well. She would never have guessed how strong his shoulders and thighs would look. Even his unusually lean arms had been improved.

She chased the thoughts of his pale skin from her mind while making a mental note to send Leanne or Silas to check on him later. For a moment, she thought of going to comfort him herself. However, she quickly came to realize how ridiculous an idea that was. They weren't friends in any sense of the term. They had just come back from being enemies. There would be no way that she, the best friend of Harry Potter, would be an appropriate candidate for comforting Draco Malfoy, a death eater.

Frowning, Hermione realized the prejudice of her thoughts. She would need to be more conscious of how she thought of Malfoy. He was no longer a pawn of Lord Voldemort. Now, he was just another Hogwarts student, one who was being unjustly tormented, and as Head Girl, she would not allow it.