Draco awoke early on the morning of the first quidditch match of the year. As previously stated, he was truly hoping for a historic outcome in which both teams lost. A tie would be far too pleasant. This was something he'd considered in his shower, having risen long before any of the other Slytherins. Good. He wanted some time alone to fucking think.
Standing at the window of his room, looking out into the underwater landscape of the Black Lake, Draco thought about the stunning shift that had occurred in his relationship with Granger the evening before. And not because she'd blown him or anything. Not a physical shift. A bloody emotional one. How glorious.
And yet the pulling in his chest, while still noticeable, had become much less prominent in the two weeks since they'd decided to give their whole thing a real go. And now that Draco had told her they were boyfriend and girlfriend, which she'd bloody agreed to, he felt even less uncomfortable. Still uncomfortable though, don't get him wrong. Being so physically distant from Granger was probably never going to be pleasant. It just didn't seem right, now that they both agreed to live in reality rather than pretending to be above the whole thing as they'd attempted to do at the beginning. How cute, Draco thought, that he'd ever believed he was in control of this or immune to the potion's strength.
Draco glanced down from his window to check his watch. Half seven in the morning. What was Granger doing to him? Robbing him of his bloody sleep on the weekends, evidently!
He decided he wanted to get above-ground for some fresh air that morning. As he ascended the stairs from the dungeons towards the main level, he hoped the clothing he'd selected would be sufficient. It was almost mid-October now, and Draco knew the morning would likely be brisk. That was part of the reason he so craved a walk outside. He wanted fresh air and space to reflect. Gods fucking damnit, his entire Granger-induced personality shift required he have personal time to think about things. It was nauseating and he detested the quick work she'd done of his previously distant mood of indifference to nearly everything.
But that was another thing that bothered Draco a bit as he walked outside, immediately finding he'd anticipated the temperature perfectly. What else was new.
Hermione had already pulled some pretty positive changes out of him in the short time they'd been together. Positive changes by any other person's standards, of course. He was still adjusting to how he interpreted it all. But widely accepted as positive, he admitted. Draco was less nasty in a general sense. Usually, he goaded everyone and anyone - including his own mates - but mainly Granger's and those from other houses. But now, fucking pillar of decency Granger was, he'd been hesitant to continue harassing and humiliating others. He didn't need to give Weasley another reason to dislike him. It'd only complicate things with Granger. And more complications were not what they needed. Not after last night.
Draco had been irate. Despite the positivity she seemed to trigger in him, he couldn't help but feel he saw a different side of Granger the more he got to know her. There was a toxicity that lingered below the surface and it concerned him. When she'd made the comment about his dark past last night in an attempt to upset him, he'd quickly recognized it as a defense mechanism. Hit him where it hurts, before he can hurt you. Of course. Draco was a professional at that exact tactic, so of course he could recognize it when she used it against him. Again, they were more fucking similar than he ever could've anticipated. Blood Ministry and its stupid fucking meddling.
Not that he wasn't secretly grateful that the Ministry's intervention had brought Granger to him. He was truly fucking obsessed with her, and not in the way of wanting to control her or run her life. Draco knew for sure that they valued and respected each other the way people in relationships were supposed to. Well, he did, anyway.
That was a bit unfair, Draco conceded in his own mind as he walked past the Whomping Willow that autumn morning. Hermione Granger was still a bloody saint – she was every bit the wonderful witch everyone believed her to be. But she was also cunning and quick to anger, like him. And she could be petty and downright hurtful when she felt vulnerable. So again, more similar to Draco than he ever thought possible. But for him, his toxic traits seemed neutralized by his growing relationship with her. Granger honestly made him want to be better, to not hurt her with his worst tendencies like he'd done to others in the past. It was absolutely disgusting the impact she had.
And he thought, despite it all, he was bringing… something out of her as well. His mind shot back to last night as he continued walking. Granger had been awful, and then so clingy he couldn't breathe, and ultimately desperate for his forgiveness. As if she wouldn't always get it. Despite what he'd said in the heat of the moment.
But it was also true that he didn't like when she said positively Malfoy-esque things to hurt him. Not only because it worked, but because he knew it wasn't really her. And so imagine Draco's surprise when she instantly spilled the beans about her parents after he'd brilliantly mentioned abandonment issues. In any other situation, he'd have likely gotten slapped. But Granger instantly conceded that he was right, just like they always seemed to do when they were on the brink of a truly magnificent row.
Draco had finally gotten to the core of why Granger was so quick to nastiness – part of it, anyway. He assumed the other part would reveal itself in time. He had his suspicions – likely the fault of her two fuck-head best friends. Not that he could really hate the wankers for it. All of them had fought in a war, and all of them were traumatized. Draco suspected that the torture Hermione had experienced at the hands of his dead aunt, while he stood by and watched, also had something to do with her issues. Probably his past bullying, as well. So it really hadn't been totally fair when he'd threatened to cut her off when she'd mentioned it. She'd earned the right to call him out, regardless of how much he'd changed since they were younger. And what of it? He still had some maturing to do. Rome wasn't built in a fucking day.
But yeah. Draco and Hermione definitely had a good bit of shit to work through. He almost fucking heaved at the idea of wanting to put work into a relationship in his life. It was truly insane how much he cared about nurturing their bond. Which is probably why he'd made unfair threats last night, because he couldn't be expected to give up everything about who he was instantly. In all honesty, he didn't think he'd ever completely let those parts of himself disappear. He was still Draco Lucius Malfoy. If he changed everything about himself, even the less kind parts, he wouldn't be the wizard Hermione Granger was so well-suited to.
Gods, everything came back to her with him these days, Draco thought to himself as he walked back towards the castle. His watch told him it was almost 8:30 in the morning now. A perfectly reasonable time to head to breakfast. Hopefully Granger would be there already. He hadn't seen her in hours. He rolled his eyes at himself but made a mental note of his morning walk conclusions. One, he was still a piece of shit compared to Granger, despite how much of a bitch she could be when wounded. Two, Draco would probably just take it for the rest of his life, even if she never resolved whatever internal conflicts she was dealing with that made her so nasty and lethal. She was too bloody perfect to leave. Three, and most important, he thought – he wanted to make a genuine effort to try to talk things through with her. Even if she stayed an absolute bloody assassin below the surface for the rest of her life, Draco still thought it was important to at least attempt to work through the things that made her so… similar to him. He wanted to really unpack and heal his own role in it, as well as to help her with the other shit. Jesus fucking Christ, was he a fucking Hufflepuff now?
Draco entered the Great Hall with a grimace on his face, disgusted by his newfound fucking nobility when it came to Granger. His features instantly shifted into something more pleasant the moment he felt her presence, the continuously less-noticeable tug in his chest disappearing instantly when he was near her. He felt utter confusion when he looked at her usual spot at the Gryffinfuck table and found it vacant. Granger had to be here somewhere. Why else was he so fucking at ease?
Draco looked at the Professor's table to see if she was up there, perhaps participating in an early-morning brown nosing session with McGonagall or Vector. But no such luck. No frizzy-headed witches in sight.
Draco, much to his disgust, immediately fucking glowed upon finding her sitting at his bloody table with his bloody mates. Who was she, fucking Lovegood? Playing musical chairs and fucking with everyone's vibe?
Of course she wasn't. Her bloody presence was a gift to all she graced it with, unlike Theo's weird bint of a witch. Draco challenged anyone to say otherwise about Granger. She could sit wherever the fuck she wanted. Especially with him.
Hermione was truly elated to find Draco strutting into the Great Hall that morning. Her heart clenched in affection when she noticed how he instantly searched the room for her, looking put off by the fact that she wasn't at her usual seat. She almost laughed when he immediately scanned the Professor's table, because honestly, it was a decent guess. And she felt herself blush the moment his eyes found hers at his own house's table, looking positively content.
She was admittedly relieved that he was happy to find her there, sitting next to Pansy, who'd been shocked at her relocation as well. To her credit, Parkinson had handled Hermione's seating quite well. She'd made some comment like 'you and Draco genuinely make me fucking sick,' and then sat down next to her, instantly looking across at Blaise and saying, 'can you fucking believe this shit?'
Hermione woke around 7:30 feeling anxious about seeing Harry and the Weasleys, as was to be expected. But she also found that she was equally, if not more anxious to see Draco that morning. She was desperate to smooth things over with him after everything that had transpired the evening before, including her trauma-dump on his conscience regarding her obliviated parents. He'd handled it so well that she nearly floated back to her room that evening. And he'd almost immediately forgiven her for her terrible words, understanding much better than she deserved why she'd acted that way.
So Hermione had decided as she showered and dressed for the day that while she couldn't control how things went with Ron and Harry and the Weasleys, she was totally responsible for the state of her relationship with Draco Malfoy. And since she could do something about that, she decided to pull a Luna that morning, seating herself among the Slytherins, much to their surprise. She'd been a bit shocked Draco hadn't beat her to the Great Hall, but she was quickly distracted by conversation with Blaise and Pansy. Well, she was quickly distracted by her attempts to get them to like her by asking them about themselves, while they rolled their eyes and gave her short answers in response. Although, she had to admit, Blaise was pretty pleasant. Funny, too. She could see why he and Malfoy were so close.
"Good morning, Granger – or are you actually just fucking Lovegood after accidentally consuming Polyjuice following an evening of tasting potions for fun?"
Draco Malfoy would never cease to impress her with how quick he was to adapt and respond.
"That shit is so fucking weird," Blaise commented, referring to Luna's love for tasting potions, as he drank his coffee without looking up from the Prophet.
"Good morning yourself, Malfoy," Hermione answered, trying not to sound too excited by his arrival. He took a seat next to Blaise, across from her and began buttering a bit of toast as he stared at her with amusement.
"It is you, isn't it, Granger? Why the fuck are you gracing the Slytherins with your presence this morning? Finally seeing the light and recognizing our superiority after all?" Draco asked without a bit of meanness.
Before she could say a word, Pansy cut in.
"I'm trying not to be a bitch, Draco, but the two of you have gotten far too fucking comfortable with your public interactions. It's not even nine o'clock yet. Please, spare the rest of us," she said, genuinely sounding exasperated. Hermione cringed. Was she making them hate her?
"I'm sorry, Pansy, I don't-" Pansy cut her off.
"Oh shut up, Granger. Your apologies for being entirely too interested in this twat are only making me like you more. It's too early for this shit," the dark-haired witch replied, her tone dripping with annoyance.
Hermione looked at Malfoy, confused as to how she should proceed. Had Pansy just said she liked her better than she had before?
"Ignore her, Granger. She can be quite bitchy in the mornings before she's had her fruit," Blaise replied from across the table, looking at her now from over his mug.
"Say, Pans," Draco began, sounding far too intrigued, "I know you're not jealous, because we'd both rather die than shag one another. But why so fucking rude? I asked if she finally wanted to acknowledge we're better company than her lot, not if she'd let me rub her back," he finished.
Hermione quietly wondered if Pansy herself was a bit anxious for Ronald Weasley to arrive on the grounds. She hadn't told Draco about Ginny's disclosure, but Hermione assumed everyone would know soon enough. Maybe Pansy was jealous, just not for any reason that Malfoy could anticipate. Perhaps Pansy was envious that she and Draco were here together and the wizard she might have bonded with was off training with the DMLE.
"Fuck off, Draco. The whole thing is far too performative. I feel like I must be living in a production if Granger here is acting interested in you," Pansy responded, and again, Hermione wondered if maybe Pansy did like her. She had to admit, her affection for Pansy had only grown the more patrols they undertook. She was funny and could be quite talkative - but without being obnoxious.
"Now I'm just concerned for your sanity. Witches are lining up to-" Draco thought better of finishing that sentence, glancing at Hermione with both fear and intrigue. He was so full of himself; she could hardly stand it.
Malfoy smirked at her as she sipped her tea, having already finished her breakfast in the ten minutes before he'd arrived. Hermione wasn't the biggest breakfast person, just a bit of toast or a yogurt and she was fine until lunch. Her appetite certainly wasn't large that particular morning, either, for obvious reasons.
It seemed Draco was on the same page, pushing his plate forward after finishing the last of his toast.
"Want to get out of here, Granger? Go somewhere with a little more privacy," Draco suggested, giving Pansy a look, clearly just to amuse himself. Parkinson fed his joy by gagging in response. He barked a laugh.
Hermione, on the other hand, was mortified by the implications of such privacy needs being mentioned in front of others, especially his friends. Not that she didn't know they'd certainly heard worse considering it was Malfoy they were dealing with. She winced at the thought of him having been with other witches and discussing it with them.
"You alright, there, Swotty?" Blaise asked, interest in his features as Hermione realized just how much must be showing on her face. She nodded her head.
"Fine!" She exclaimed, rising to leave like Malfoy had suggested. He glanced up at her, seeming a bit confused as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, ever the picture of perfect table manners, then moving to stand himself.
"Don't wait up for me before the match, Blaise," he told Zabini, "and please let me know if you'd like me to set you up with a mind healer, Pans. I worry," Draco finished, taunting Pansy. She rolled her eyes dismissively.
By the time Hermione and Malfoy had made their way out of the Great Hall and into the corridor, Ginny was heading straight towards breakfast, already wearing her quidditch uniform. Hermione beamed.
"Captain Weasley, you're looking as ridiculous as ever," Draco taunted from beside her. She rolled her eyes at his inability to ever let a moment of teasing pass him by.
"Ferret, you're looking as pointy as ever," Ginny hissed. Hermione sort of enjoyed the harmless banter. As long as it didn't go too far.
"Good morning!" Hermione cut in, hoping to avoid another round of insults popping off. Ginny smiled, quickly kissing her on the cheek as she moved to pass her.
"See you in a bit, Hermione?" She asked, still looking at Hermione as she moved further towards the dining hall.
"I'll be there," Hermione promised, knowing Ginny was referring to the match, which started at 11 on the dot.
She turned her attention back to Malfoy, who looked bored by her display of close friendship with Ginny.
"I do actually want to speak with you about a few things before everyone gets here," Hermione told him.
"Ah, lovely. More discussions. Shall we head back down to the lake, Granger?" Malfoy answered sarcastically.
"Actually, I was thinking you could come back to Gryffindor. With me," She squeaked out the last bit, nervous for how he might respond to such an offer.
He didn't disappoint. Malfoy did a double take before saying, "I beg your pardon?"
Hermione laughed at his reaction.
"I'm serious. There are no rules against you accompanying me to the tower. Besides, I have my own room. You won't need to play nice with Seamus in the common area," she taunted. On second thought, Hermione herself was also probably incapable of playing nice with Seamus in the common area.
"Are you fucking mad, Granger? You actually think the fat lady will ever allow my entry?" Draco sounded stunned as he followed her, unknowingly headed in the direction of Gryffindor tower.
"She doesn't have a fucking say," Hermione spat, still bitter towards the portrait after her taunts earlier in the term.
"Alright, Granger, I'll follow your lead. But if anyone tries to attack me, you'd better be prepared to testify on my behalf. Again," Malfoy replied.
"No one's going to attack you, you prat," Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly, the dramatics.
She dragged him in the direction of Gryffindor house, refusing to hear any more of his nonsense, subconsciously hoping he wasn't right.
Chapter 31: Thirty One
Notes:
In which the truth comes out and everything changes.
Content warning: disturbing subject matter, reference to war.
Chapter Text
Following a bit of a nasty back and forth with the fat lady, as predicted, the portrait had opened to allow Hermione and Draco inside. She was right, after all. The guardian had no power to deny entry to a guest if they were accompanied by a Gryffindor with the correct password. Even if said guest was a Slytherin.
As Hermione led Malfoy through the portrait hole, she glanced over to watch his reaction to her beloved home. Really, she absolutely adored Gryffindor house. It felt just as comforting to walk into this place as it did to return home in the summers, perhaps even more so. Hermione winced at the memories of spending warm months with her parents.
"Granger," Malfoy hissed to her right. Her attention snapped back to her surroundings, instantly regretting that she'd been too lost in her own thoughts to witness how he'd reacted to the cozy common room. She glanced up to where Malfoy was looking, finding, of course, Seamus and Dean. Plus, a bunch of younger students.
"You've got to be bloody kidding me," she heard Seamus mutter under his breath. Dean instantly whacked his mate on the back of the head, much to her amusement.
"Good morning, everyone," Hermione greeted, trying to pretend she wasn't aware of how strange it would be for all of them to see the Slytherin in their quarters. She pulled Draco along behind her, heading in the direction of the stairs.
"Morning, Hermione," Dean called evenly, though she knew he had to be as surprised as everyone else. Just smarter than the others, and more fearful of Ginny's wrath. Though, Hermione thought, even Ginny might not be thrilled to learn of Draco's presence in their dormitory.
"You're out of your fucking mind, witch," Malfoy told her as he let her lead him up the stairs towards her room.
"Possibly," she admitted, finally letting the brazenness of her actions sink in. Whatever. She could deal with it later.
Hermione threw her door open, beckoning him to follow quickly as she shut it behind him, locking it and silencing the room.
Draco glanced around her room, taking in her space with an unreadable look on his face.
"What?" She asked, curious as to why she couldn't decipher what he was thinking, or at least an idea of it.
Malfoy continued looking around before returning her gaze, grinning now.
"Nothing, Hermione, just taking inventory of how much better Slytherin's rooms are," He teased. She couldn't tell if he was being serious, or if he just thought they were superior because he was him.
"Honestly, how do you breathe in here? Absolutely no space for anything!" Malfoy spat, pretending to be judgmental.
"You're honestly telling me your room is bigger than mine?" Hermione responded, exasperated by his dramatics, but mainly entertained.
"Oh, it's a palace compared to this," he smirked, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto her bed as though he owned the place.
Hermione stood gaping at him.
"Alright, I'm ready now. Speak, witch," he declared.
"You're quite ballsy, Draco Malfoy!" Hermione couldn't decide if she was surprised or completely unsurprised by him behaving in such a way. He lifted an eyebrow at her as she followed suit, removing her own shoes and crawling to sit beside him. He was in her spot!
"Don't feel bad. It's charming, Granger. In a shoebox sort of way," Malfoy told her, continuing to look around at where she slept, dressed and – admittedly – thought frequently about him.
"You are so truly ridiculous," Hermione laughed.
Suddenly, he was looking at her with darker eyes. Oh. Right.
They were together, alone, behind a locked door in a silenced room. On her bed.
"I'm being serious. I want to talk!" Hermione insisted as he rolled his eyes, waving a hand in a gesture for her to continue.
"I wanted to apologize. Again. For last night," she began, holding her hand up when he instantly started to speak.
"And don't tell me that it's fine, that I'm forgiven, that you understand. I know you do. But it's not fine that I react that way. Especially towards you," Hermione told him, her voice small as he looked at her with a pained expression. He seemed like it took a lot out of him, but he let her continue.
"But I also want to tell you that it is far too easy for me to use your past against you when we've hardly discussed it. And I know your mother is a hard subject for you, I know it's one of your only rules, but I feel… compelled. To have a real discussion about the way things were between us in the past. I can't keep bottling it up and just living in the moment with you, not if I'm only going to continue throwing it in your face when I'm upset," Hermione finished, nervous to hear his response, especially at her mention of his mother.
"I agree."
Now that, she hadn't expected.
"You do?" Hermione asked, unable to hide her surprise.
"Am I going to have to fucking repeat myself often, or will you keep up?" Malfoy barked, suddenly nasty. She flinched.
"My turn?" He asked, tempering his tone a bit after her reaction. Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at him but nodding anyways.
"I apologize," Malfoy began, much to her surprise, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just anticipating how unpleasant this conversation might be," and she softened, uncrossing her arms.
"I'd deny it if anyone else ever asks, but I had quite the stroll this morning. And I thought about things… as they pertain to us." Hermione's heart fluttered at his use of the word 'us.' Draco Malfoy had gone on a walk to think about their relationship? Was she dreaming?
"Stop looking at me like that," Malfoy demanded.
"Like what?" She asked, suddenly on guard.
"Like I'm so bloody sweet for taking the time to think about our relationship. I do it a fucking lot."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at his admission. She suddenly wanted very badly to kiss him. Focus, Hermione. They were supposed to be talking.
"Ok," she told him.
"And I've deduced a few things, Granger. Most notable, that clearly, you have a lot of… pain. To unpack. And not just from the situation with your parents. With me, with my family, our past, and your fucking idiots of best mates. But I'll try to reserve judgment on the things that don't involve me," Draco said, and she tried not to let her mouth hang open. He'd pretty much hit the nail on the head. Everything she felt they needed to discuss; he'd mentioned.
"Well? Anything to add, witch?" He pressed.
"No, I think that about… sums it up," Hermione said cautiously.
"Good. Now tell me what it is that I've done in the past that keeps you up at night. Don't leave out the gory details. I can handle it," Malfoy told her, schooling his expression into one of hardness. Was he occluding?
"Are you occluding?" Hermione asked in disbelief.
"Is that not allowed?" Draco looked annoyed that she might tell him it wasn't. Because, she knew, he'd probably drop the whole thing if she asked him to. He was… better to her than she sometimes deserved.
"I suppose it's fine, I just wasn't expecting it. I do the same," Hermione replied, adding it to the list of things they had in common.
"Of course," Malfoy rolled his eyes, probably thinking the same thing. But then his features softened as if he was changing course, deciding against occlumency. She looked at him with what she assumed were doe eyes. Hermione couldn't be sure because she couldn't see herself.
"Oh, cut it out. I've just decided it's probably better if I… feel this. It's not just because you noticed I was doing it," Malfoy told her. She was sure that was at least half-true.
"I really like you," Hermione told him, unable to stop the words from falling out. Of course, he just gave her a look that made her feel even more like she wanted to kiss him.
"Likewise. Now speak," Malfoy insisted, no longer occluding, but appearing to try to prepare himself.
"I want you to know that nothing about our past or anything else will change how… strongly I feel. I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I just want everything out in the open, so I don't feel so close to attacking you every time you don't hold my hand when I say something you aren't expecting," she explained, meaning every word. He nodded tightly.
She took a deep breath in, preparing to unload. It was only half nine. They had time.
"It's very hard for me. To feel the way I do about you, and feel so trusting of you, when we have the past that we do. Half the time, my brain won't let me accept that you feel the same. Like it's impossible for you to see me as positively as I do you," Hermione began, and to his credit, Draco looked understanding.
"You spent seven years saying nothing but awful things to me, calling me a word that no one should ever use against another person. It represents so much… hatred. And yet, I find myself reeling when I think back on it differently because I no longer even believe you ever… meant it."
"You're… correct," Draco answered, looking uncomfortable.
"How? Why did you treat me that way if you didn't really believe it yourself?" Hermione asked.
"I know it's… difficult for you to understand. But I was raised to hate everything about you. To believe you were nothing but a fraud, unworthy of our world," Malfoy told her honestly, and she surprised herself by not wanting to die at his admission.
"But I'd never actually spoken to a muggleborn before I came to school. I knew I was supposed to see them differently from purebloods, but when I got here I just… didn't. Everyone was the same. And I was better than all of you," he told her honestly. She knew he still pretty much believed that. Hermione almost wanted to laugh but let him continue.
"The problem was never with your blood, Granger, or anyone else's, for that matter. The problem has always been that I am, by nature, a dickhead. It's who I am. I'm not going to apologize for that being true now, but I am genuinely sorry for the way I treated you. Because I used purity as a reason to rationalize being awful to you and everyone else. Because the way I used to act was… beyond being just a dickhead, as I like to think of myself now. I was vicious. Because I was raised to think I was so much better than everyone, and so untouched by mistreatment, that I truly had no fucking concept of how my behavior affected other people. Even if I'd been told at the time, I don't think it would have changed things. Only living through shit can do that. At least, for a wizard like me." Draco explained.
"I won't lie to you, Granger. I'm probably never going to be particularly… friendly. Or nice. Or warm, like your lot claim to be. But after the whole fucking Dumbledore thing, and after having that scum living in my home, sitting where my father sat, I had some… revelations."
Hermione could hardly hide her intrigue, moving closer to him and holding his left arm as she laid her head on his shoulder, rubbing her right foot on his leg. He instantly moved his hand to place it on her thigh. Their responsiveness to each other, physically… it stunned her. It was as easy as breathing.
"It's never been about blood. Not for me. Not for any of those fucking low lives who followed the Dark Lord blindly. He himself was a fucking half-blood. It is all based on a lie. It's just darkness for him, for the people he led. Fear and insecurity and blind desire for power. Fucking disgusting," he spat, and she stiffened a bit at the mention of Voldemort. At the way Draco still instinctually referred to him as his lord.
"At first, I saw no issue. It lined up with what I'd heard my entire life. And I thought the Malfoy's would be situated at the top of the society he was going to establish. Just like we already were in this sodding society. But then my fucking father looked so bloody pathetic the moment he knew Voldemort was back. Confused the living fuck out of me to see him that way. He was always so… sure. And when he looked like a scared little bitch? Yeah, that's when I started wondering about what sort of world we were going to be working to create," He continued. Hermione nodded.
"And when I met the fucking monster? Yeah, that about did it. He was freaky as shit. Grown men I'd feared my whole life cowered in his wake. I mean Theo's dad, rest his absolutely vile soul, had always been like, on my father's level. In my eyes, I felt like Nott Sr. was probably just below Lucius as far as purity and wealth and all that other shit. And that fucking piece of shit acted just like my father. Like he'd literally shit himself if he met the Dark Lord's eye. Pathetic and honestly, just shocking to me at the time," Hermione found herself shaken by Draco's honesty.
"Theo's dad… he died before the battle, didn't he?" Hermione asked nervously.
"He did. Only good he ever did for Theo, really. Got himself killed before he could force his son to bow before his beloved lord and take the mark. My father was too busy getting sent to prison for Tom to stop the same from happening to me," Draco spat. She could feel the hatred he had for Theo's dad. For Voldemort himself. Even for Lucius, maybe.
"Again, the Dumbledore shit… I didn't like the man. I won't lie to you; he never held the same appeal he seemed to have for your lot. But I didn't hate him, either. He and Snape trusted one another; Snape respected him. For real, not bullshit. I could see that. And Snape… I trusted Severus. He was my godfather," Draco explained.
"What?!" Hermione couldn't contain her shock. Severus Snape was his godfather?
"He and my mother were really close. My father, too. Back before fifth year," He trailed off. Hermione flinched, knowing it was likely all related to Voldemort's return and Lucius' subsequent imprisonment.
"Severus and my mother stayed close until the day he bloody died. But what I'm trying to explain is that he was… good. Better than you lot thought he was, even before he fell on a sword. And so is my mother. And it fucking destroyed me, being here, expected to kill the fucking Headmaster, while the Dark Lord lived in my house and my mother suffered. I mean, I was fucking terrified. For her. All the time. I cannot stress it enough, Hermione. The people who followed him… they were all fucking monsters. People who used to come to my parents' bloody parties and command respect and behave like actual human beings. But they weren't. They were all fucking cowards and pigs and rapists. Killers. And I was supposed to be one, too." Hermione could feel the tears in her eyes but refused to cry. This was about him. It was important he continue without her making him feel more awful.
"That's when I finally fucking understood how much of a piece of shit I'd been. Sixth year. When I realized that I'd end up just like all the rest of those fucking pathetic excuses for witches and wizards if I blindly followed him. Like my father had. And my father – it wasn't even like he really believed it. It really fucking irks me, even now, that he let me live my life thinking the Dark Lord was to be revered and that purity was legitimate. I didn't know that he was full of shit, too, until I saw him when he got out. After sixth year, before all the other shit. I mean, he was a shell of himself. And the only reason he fought for the Dark Lord was because he was fucking terrified of him and terrified of dying and whatever else if he didn't fall in line. But when it came time to kill the old fuck I just… I couldn't. I realized the only reason I even made it to the Astronomy Tower that night was because I was scared of what would happen to my mother if I didn't. My father, too, as disgusted as I was by him. And then of course Dumbledore showed my dumb arse kindness, and he already had a plan and Snape fucking helped me out of it. I'll never… I'll never be able to repay him. For making it so I wasn't a murderer. I couldn't live with myself if that was true, too."
Hermione's heart was breaking at his honesty.
"You're not a bad person, Draco. I'm… I understand so much better now-" But his grip on her tightened and he cut her off.
"If we're going to finish this discussion, you need to hear everything. I'm not a fucking good person, that's for fucking sure," he told her, and she remained silent because she knew her words had had the opposite effect of what she'd intended. He needed to get it off his chest without her trying to convince him that he was already forgiven.
"So, he saved my fucking arse of course, because I always seem to get out of shit unscathed. And then Bellatrix blew up the oaf's- sorry, Hagrid's hut, and we're back at the fucking Manor, and all is fucking well because Dumbledore is dead and for whatever reason, all powerful, good wizards have to be dead for him to fucking spare us. The only way to survive with the Dark Lord is if everyone is actually fucking dead. We would all be dead at some point once we'd served our purpose. It was never about blood, Granger. Never. If it was, he wouldn't have killed so many purebloods on a whim. If blood purity actually fucking existed, he never would've needed everyone dead. So when I taunted you, when I called you a mudblood, it was all coming from ignorance, not real hatred, because I had no idea what real hatred was until I looked at Voldemort and my fucking aunt and all the rest of the true believers," he sounded desperate. She let him continue.
"And holy fucking shit, when you and Potter and the Weasel fucking showed up at the Manor last year… I was fucking ill. As much as I can't stand him, even now, I knew Potter was the only hope we had of getting that undead piece of shit out of my house. Away from my fucking mother, who I'll have you know, has never been a Death Eater's whore, like fucking Finnegan called her," and Hermione flinched. She knew Draco hated Seamus, but she hadn't realized it went deeper than just him being a bit of a tosser.
"She would have died for me. In a fucking second, Granger, she would have died miserably if it meant protecting me. And that's why… that's why we fucking stood there when Bellatrix tortured you. Not because my mother hated you, not because she and I thought you'd be better off dead. We were just trying to live. And so refusing to identify Potter, the bare minimum – an act of bloody courage as you described it – that was literally all I could think to do. To avoid Potter being dead or my mother being dead. Because trust me, Bella was loyal only to the Dark Lord. Her affection and love for her family died long before she got broken out of Azkaban," and Hermione's stomach turned, because she knew he was going to tell her everything from his perspective that day. God, she could vomit at the thought.
"I think maybe I knew, even then, Granger. That… you were… I don't fucking know. Important to me or some shit. But it didn't matter, because no matter how much I wanted to fucking stop it, and no matter how quickly I puked after you all fucked off, I didn't do shit when it mattered. I stood there and watched you fucking scream as my aunt tortured you. I had known before then that none of the shit I'd said about you and thought about you was true. Your blood… it didn't… it didn't make you less of a fucking person. And you were laying on the floor of my childhood home dying. And I just stood there because it was all I could do to keep my mother from being dead," he sounded so broken at the memory. Hermione's tears were flowing easily now, but she didn't make a sound.
"What I'm trying to tell you, Granger… I'm so fucking sorry. I really fucking am. For everything. Not just because I feel this way about you now. Because it was fucking wrong, how I treated you, how I stood by for my whole fucking life while shit just happened. I don't deserve your forgiveness, I never will, and I definitely don't deserve to feel this way about you or be near you or have you like me. I don't. But I'm selfish and I'm not like fucking Potter. I want to be with you, and I hate how I feel when I'm away from you. I'll let you think whatever the fuck you have to about me if it means you're with me."
Hermione dove onto his lap, throwing her arms around him while she sobbed.
She didn't care what he told her. She didn't care what anyone else thought, even if they knew as much as she did about him now, they'd be wrong.
Draco Malfoy was not a bad person.
Fuck, Draco wanted to cry. She was hugging him and sobbing and holy fuck, he wanted to cry too. Because he'd told her all of it, and it wasn't enough, and he never should have told her she wasn't allowed to use him as a punching bag, or anything else for that matter.
He deserved everything Finnegan thought he did, no matter how fucking stupid that twat was.
"You shouldn't have to live with me attached to you, Granger. I'm a fucking disease. I'll only pull you down with me," Draco choked out, mortified that she'd ever considered him, that he'd ever let her. She went fucking rigid in his arms and pushed his chest away. As she should.
"Don't ever say that to me again. Ever. Do not," she spat, and he couldn't help but let his jaw drop. Was she serious?
"You don't get to tell me the truth of it all, make me finally understand, and then just tell me I'm better off without you. I. Am. Not."
"Understand? Understand, Granger?! Hermione – I – you can't be serious. I can't be serious, sitting here with you. That's the first time I've ever gone through the whole thing without occluding, and FUCK! How could you possibly understand and think you aren't better off? I literally stood by while you were being tortured. Potter was right about me. I would've stood by if she killed you. Don't you understand?" Draco thought he might be crying now. He didn't care.
And Granger. Oh gods, she was so fucking good. She was innocent in all of it. All Hermione Granger had ever done was be born, which, even that she didn't ask for. And she was forced into his fucking world because she was extraordinary, better than literally everyone else, and she'd almost died for it. He'd almost let her die for it. And then she'd have been dead, and he never would have known. Known her and felt this.
"Draco, I told you before we started this conversation. I told you! That nothing – not anything – could change how I feel. And actually, I was wrong. Because I feel even stronger for you now. If that's even possible," Hermione screamed the words at him, and he was truly fucking shook.
"Don't even try to tell me you don't deserve anything good. You do. And I'm allowed to say that, because I'm the one who gets to choose whether or not to forgive you. And I do. I did. A long time ago," she continued, and he literally had no idea what he'd done to deserve to hear this come from her lips.
"I feel sick over it. The fact that you were told from the time you could think for yourself that you should hate me. And even so, you didn't. You called me mean names. Acted like a prat. So what? Why do you think you were, as you put it, such a coward? You weren't a coward, you were just born to the wrong side, Draco. Your mother couldn't help who the Blacks were, just like Sirius couldn't, and she couldn't change who your father was. And you didn't ask to be fucking born!" Granger exclaimed. Go figure. He'd just had the same thought about her. They shared one fucking brain. It was beyond belief.
"Right, Granger, I didn't. But I should've fallen on the bloody sword at some point, just like you and your lot would have. You know you would have died, gladly, to win that war," he begged Granger to understand.
But, of course, the next words she spoke stunned him. Changed everything about him in a single fucking moment.
"Of course, I would have, Draco! Of course, I would have gladly died for this! And if I'd known about you? I don't even want to know how I would've acted. But I am just like you. You said it yourself, you self-sacrificing bastard. You and your mother – you would have died. Gladly. To save one another. And not because you wanted the other to live to see Voldemort's fucking dream world come to fruition. I mean honestly, your mother lied to Voldemort, told him Harry was dead when he wasn't because she knew. She knew the only way to get back to you was if she said he was dead. Because you love each other, like I love my friends and my parents, and you just wanted each other to be alive. If I'd been born to your parents, Draco, raised the way you were, with the opportunity to do the things you were supposed to… I hope I would've been as brave as you. And your mother, for Godric's sake. I can only hope I would've loved my own son enough to lie in the face of living, breathing evil. She's the only reason we're all still alive. And we all just did the best we could. And we're lucky, Draco, don't you see? We're alive, and so many of them are dead so we could be here. Together. We were meant to be. Not just because of the potion, Godric, I don't even care about that anymore. I'm just lucky it forced me to get to know you. The real you, not the façade. You are… so much more than I could ever have imagined. I never in a million years dreamed I could feel this sure about something. About someone," Hermione cried, breathless, tears falling onto her perfect fucking cheeks.
Draco just fucking pulled her to him and squeezed her so tightly that he grew concerned he might be killing her. He let go instantly, checking that she was still alive.
She was. She was perfect.
"I… don't know how to respond. I am… overwhelmed," Draco told her, speechless, finally feeling like maybe he'd been wrong before. Maybe he could be worthy if she actually fucking believed it. Gods, this was truly fucking nauseating stuff. Genuinely horrifying to feel this way about another person.
But maybe it wasn't.
Maybe it was meant to be.
Chapter 32: Thirty Two
Notes:
In which Draco earns a new nickname.
Chapter Text
Hermione was staring at Draco like she had the moment they'd felt their cores resealing, one in sync with the other. Like she was seeing him, the real Draco Malfoy, for the first time.
And she was obsessed with him. He'd used the word to describe how he felt for her, and it seemed so fitting. She was completely enamored. She would never not be in awe of him.
And then she remembered that she was supposed to be going to a quidditch match.
"Draco, what time is it?!" She exclaimed, searching the bed for her wand, finding it under her pillow.
He tore himself from his own state of shock, checking his fancy, expensive watch.
"It's 10:30, Granger – we should head down," Draco commented, not really seeming to care about the match.
Hermione didn't either, if she was being honest. But she did need to try to make nice with her friends, who were probably already taking their seats in the visiting spectators' section. And suddenly she couldn't wait to march up to them with Draco Malfoy. She was… quite proud he was her boyfriend.
Boyfriend. She felt butterflies at the label – it was still so new – and yet after all they'd just discussed, Hermione felt like it wasn't enough to explain their connection. Whatever. It would have to do for now.
"You'll still go with me to the guest seats, won't you?" Hermione asked him pathetically, standing from her bed to straighten her clothes. She was wearing her jeans and a Gryffindor jumper. She glanced at herself in her mirror, rushing forward to wipe the streaks of mascara from her cheeks and to reapply it.
"Obviously, Granger. You're completely fucking stuck with me now," Draco told her, almost like he was sorry about it and like it wasn't music to her ears. She rolled her eyes. She really was picking up his habits.
"Why do you put that shit on, anyway? You don't need it," Draco told her, referring to her mascara and gloss.
"I'm not entirely sure, really. I never used to," she responded absentmindedly, thinking back to how she'd randomly felt compelled to wear it for the first time a month ago.
"For you, actually, when I think about it," Hermione confessed, suddenly realizing how well the timeline matched up. Of course. The pull. Everything. It was all to please him – not please him, that wasn't the right word – she wasn't trying to please him. It just felt nice to look nice for someone you cared about.
"Me?" Draco exclaimed incredulously. Hermione giggled, turning back to pull him off her bed and straighten his shirt. How annoying. He wasn't even wrinkled.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. I only just realized it myself. I started doing this the morning after we took the potion. Putting my hair up, too. I still don't know why I did that, but I'll admit, it's nice to have it tied back," Hermione told him. He smirked.
"Your neck. I love looking at your neck, Granger," he admitted easily, reaching up to trail the back of two of his fingers along the side of her neck.
"My neck? You like my neck, you weirdo?" Hermione laughed her question, completely unsurprised to discover he was the reason for her new hairstyle as well.
"Yeah, your neck, Granger. Does things to me. Don't ask me to explain, it just does," Malfoy was using her own words against her again. She didn't mind.
They were walking hand-in-hand down the corridor, almost to the doors that would lead them outside to the pitch. Hermione tugged the hand she was holding to check his watch. 10:41.
"Cheeky, Granger," he laughed at her maneuver and she smiled shyly, unsure why she felt shy when he said things like that.
They made their way to the base of the guest stand and she turned to look at Malfoy, preparing herself for whatever version of Harry awaited.
"I know I don't need to ask-" Hermione began, finding herself instantly cut off.
"I'm not going to start any shit. You have my word," Draco told her, his voice as strong as it was annoyed. She smiled, her hand still in his as she turned to begin climbing the stairs to the stands.
As they stepped onto the platform, Hermione saw both teams already circling in the air. It was overcast, but she didn't think it would rain. It was the perfect temperature for being a spectator – cool enough to wear a sweater, warm enough that you didn't need anything more. Hermione set her focus on searching for familiar faces among the stands.
Harry came into her view before she could even really begin to look for him.
"Hermione," He breathed, looking positively relieved to see her. Harry moved to pull her into a hug, freezing when he noticed one of her hands was occupied, then noticing who it was occupied by.
"Malfoy," Harry acknowledged, nodding once. Hermione glanced nervously at her boyfriend.
Ugh, he was so bloody handsome. And polite. He nodded back at her friend, who until this moment, had been on her shit list.
"Potter. You're looking… yourself," Draco tried, unable to actually give Harry a compliment. She giggled and Harry looked at her.
She glared back at Harry, unsure how else to handle it. She'd been so prepared for him to be awful. He cringed when he noticed how defensive her demeanor was.
"I'm sorry, Hermione - for everything. For behaving like a caveman and sending you such a shit letter. I was in shock when I sent it and once I got over that, I didn't know what to say in a second letter. I thought I should just wait to apologize properly, in person. You deserve better, and I hope you'll forgive me," Harry said sincerely.
She let go of Draco's hand and threw her arms around Harry, thanking Godric he'd behaved exactly how she'd hoped he would. And how Malfoy had said he should.
"I'm really, really sorry, Hermione. Ron's talked some sense into me, believe it or not," Harry said into her hair and she laughed.
Draco coughed beside her, reminding her he wasn't… fond of sharing. She rolled her eyes, stepping back from Harry.
"We're right over here. I saved a seat for you," Harry told her, looking awkwardly over at Draco.
"I didn't realize you'd be coming, Malfoy, but I'm… sure we can make room," Harry attempted. She'd take it. They followed him down towards the third row, past prying eyes to which Hermione paid no mind. And one set of eyes in particular that Hermione would have hexed out, had she been paying attention.
"Hermione!" Ron greeted cheerfully, standing when he saw her following behind Harry. To his credit, his face didn't even fall when he saw Draco behind her. He just nodded in his direction before enveloping her in one of his bone-crushing embraces.
"Ronald, I hear you're the pillar of maturity and goodness," Hermione told him as she hugged him, never more grateful for him than she was now. Well, except for all the other times they'd saved each other's arses from certain death.
"You know me, 'Mione, and don't sound so bloody shocked. I've always been more controlled than this wanker," Ron said, releasing her and tilting his head towards Harry, who immediately rolled his eyes and took his seat.
"Mum, Dad, George, Bill and Fleur should be here any minute," Ron told her, explaining the vacant seats beside him. Hermione nearly snorted at the mention of Fleur.
"I can't wait to see them," Hermione told him, taking a seat between Harry and Draco.
The moment they were settled, Draco put his hand on her right thigh, and she instinctually covered it with her own hand, squeezing him and smiling.
"Shit. Mum's in for a right fucking shock," Ron said, staring at Hermione and Draco's hands.
"What, Weasel, you think she can't handle it? Haven't you noticed you have like, 40 siblings?" Draco scoffed, and Hermione bit back a laugh.
"Shut your mouth about my mother, Malfoy. Or I'll stop encouraging Harry here to have a bloody heart," Ron replied, rolling his eyes and looking out towards the pitch. The match would be starting any minute.
"Ron don't act like you're the only reason I'm tolerating this. Ginny is another reason. As well as my love for Hermione, despite her questionable choice in men for soulmates," Hermione cringed at Harry's defense and his own lack of comfort at using the word soulmate in reference to Draco.
"Yeah, well I'm beginning to wonder myself if Weaslette out there caught a few too many bludgers - to be happily bound to you, Potter - it's cause for concern," Draco spat.
"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley's voice instantly brought a smile to Hermione's face, despite her anxiety.
The Weasleys all shuffled down to their row, Molly stopping as she met Draco's gaze. He stood immediately.
"Molly, you know Draco Malfoy. My boyfriend," Hermione said warmly, smiling at him before looking back at the woman who'd stood in as mother to her so many times.
Hermione also smiled at Arthur and George, the latter with a shit-eating grin across his face. Maybe he was feeling more like himself since she'd last seen him. Hermione smiled wider.
Molly stared at Draco, a bit in shock, as did Arthur and Bill. Fleur was indifferent. She'd bloody better be.
Then, as if the skies opened, Molly's face softened, not quite to her usual warm smile, but into a pleasant grin.
"Draco," she nodded, as he moved to take her hand to help her past him towards her seat. Ugh, what a bloody well-bred prat. Molly looked almost charmed as she wiggled her eyebrows at Hermione as she passed her, something Draco hadn't seen as he'd turned to greet the rest of the Weasleys.
She was going to owe him big time after this one. She smirked at the thought of what he might request, all indecent thoughts vanishing as Arthur pleasantly patted her on the shoulder, squeezing by to follow his wife.
"Weasley," Draco greeted George with a nod. Hermione was quite sure George would easily become Draco's favorite Weasley if all continued to go well. Actually, she shuddered at the thought of how well the two of them would get on.
"Draco Malfoy. Fucking wild, life is," George shook his head, moving past to greet her.
"Hermione Jean Granger. I'm here to rescue you. I've seen the papers. I've come prepared," George said, putting on a proper show.
"Shut up, George," Hermione laughed, hugging him briefly.
"I mean it. I am prepared. For all things," George warned, shooting Malfoy a pretend-protective glare. Malfoy even looked amused.
Then came Bill and Fleur, who, admittedly, Hermione was never close to. She gripped Draco's arm.
"Bill, Fleur, it's lovely to see you! You know Draco Malfoy,"
Bill shook Malfoy's hand and Fleur greeted him with two air kisses on the cheeks. So bloody French. Hermione could vomit.
"Zis ees your boyfriend, I 'ear, 'Ermione!" Fleur squealed as she passed her, greeting her with air kisses on each cheek, as well.
"Well done, ma chérie," Fleur whispered, moving after Bill into her own seat.
Well, that was that. Hermione wanted to kill and giggle with Fleur all at once.
She and Malfoy retook their seats as the match began, Hermione paying little attention and simply enjoying the pleasant moment. After about 30 minutes of whispering and giggling to Draco, like an idiot, Harry coughed.
"Hermione," He leaned over, clearly intending to tell her something.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Is this for real? I mean, I know it is. I'm just – I actually don't know what I'm trying to say here. I can't really believe my eyes," Harry told her, clearly referring to her and Malfoy.
"What's that, Potter?" Draco cut in, an edge to his voice. She cringed.
"Nothing, Draco, don't be so nosy," she scolded, trying to let him know she could handle Harry on her own. He gave her an irritated look before turning back to the game.
"Fuck, he's trained!" Hermione heard George exclaim from the other side of Ron. Oh boy.
Draco's head snapped back in his direction, now looking quite pissed.
"I'm not trained, Weasley. I'm well-bred. And I'm respecting my girlfriend's wishes. Where's yours?" Draco spat, and Hermione nearly slapped him before turning to see the look of amusement on George's face.
"Too right you are, Drakeykins, too right you are! Do you know anyone looking for a rich, self-made joke shop owner boyfriend, someone well-bred I can call my own?" George teased without any malice whatsoever. Hermione actually choked on her laughter at the nickname George had given him. It was a variation of Ronald's; one she knew her friend despised. Which meant he would never be free of it, of course.
"What did you just call me?" Draco hissed and now she and Harry both laughed. Ron's focus seemed to be elsewhere.
Hermione turned to Draco, who looked positively incensed.
"You're only making it worse, Malfoy. He was testing you with an awful and adorable nickname. You've showed your hand. Now he'll call you that for the rest of your life," Hermione laughed at him as his horror grew.
"Never again, Granger. Never again are we attending a quidditch match with your lot," Malfoy grumbled, again turning back to the game. She smiled in George's direction and he winked at her.
Five minutes later, Harry and Ron and George all leapt to their feet, roaring their applause. Hermione glanced around, knowing Gryffindor must have caught the snitch.
She heard the announcer shouting, "Gryffindor wins!" and smiled at Draco.
God, he was a toddler. He looked disgusted.
"Oh, stop the pouting, Malfoy," she cheered, clapping along with her friends at her house's victory. He rolled his eyes.
"What a long fucking year ahead," Malfoy drawled.
Draco Malfoy was ready to blow a gasket.
After behaving like the absolute charmer that he was for the entire quidditch match, he'd been rewarded by being torn from his girlfriend by way of her awful friends and the Weasleys. They'd be going to Hogsmeade for a celebratory butterbeer following She Weasel's team victory. He thought he'd be sick.
Perhaps torn from Granger wasn't the correct word. They'd invited him to come, as well.
Over his dead fucking body would he celebrate a Gryffindor win! And with the Weasleys, to boot? Outrageous. Next fucking question.
He didn't hate that George Weasley, though. He was a complete shithead and actually had a sense of humor. Draco never thought he'd see the day. Not that he'd be advertising the news anytime soon.
Actually, the match had served as a bit of a wakeup call. Draco felt confident in the team he and Adrian had assembled, but after that performance, he felt compelled to call a bloody strategy meeting. I mean, what the fuck? Weaslette had always been pretty fucking good, though he'd always hated to acknowledge it – but Hufflepuff? Fucking Hufflepuff was decent this year? Fuck.
Draco was headed for the dungeons with a bloody bone to pick.
He tore into the common room, snarling Adrian's name the moment he saw him.
"I fucking know Draco, I was there. I've already called a strategy session," Adrian replied, clearly on the same page.
"For when? You didn't consult me. What if I'm fucking busy?" Draco shot back, irritated that Adrian had beaten him to it.
"Draco, please just shut up. It's in an hour, right bloody here," Adrian scowled, and Draco found himself a bit stunned at the attitude. Who did he think he was talking to?
"I beg your pardon?" He yelled, instantly prepared to fucking rip Pucey to shreds. For honestly no reason at all.
"I believe he told you to fuck off, Draco," Pansy laughed from behind him and he turned. She looked… odd.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Draco asked, unsure what was different about her.
"I think I've found my potion match, if you must know," Pansy declared proudly. She was being all forward and… not Pansy like.
Blaise now stood up, choking on the firewhiskey he'd been sipping.
"What the fuck Blaise, is that mine?" Draco yelled, suddenly recognizing his flask. Blaise's eyes widened and he vanished it.
"That better have just fucking landed in my trunk. Where I left it," Draco bit, lacking his usual edge due to his distracted state. Pansy was in fucking love. Wonderful.
"Tell me, Pans, who is the poor bloke?" Blaise drawled as Draco smirked. All eyes were on Pansy.
"Fucking Weasley," She said, rolling her eyes. Blaise instantly started fucking dying of laughter.
"Which fucking one?" Adrian called, chuckling as well. Good point. Draco looked at her in disbelief.
"The worst of them all, of course. Potter's boyfriend," Pansy conceded, much to Draco's shock. And to his absolute disgust, Astoria and Daphne now appeared, looking mortified. Bitches. Astoria, anyway.
"What the fuck is going on in this world?" Astoria whined, clearly upset to hear yet another Slytherin had bagged a Gryffindor. He couldn't totally blame her. But his witch wasn't just a Gryffindor. She was Granger. Exempt.
"I know. But I can't deny it, especially not while Draco here prances across the pitch with my future in-laws. God, our parents are going to fucking die," Pansy groaned.
"I don't prance," He sneered at Pansy, neglecting to acknowledge aloud that she'd been right. Arabella Parkinson and Narcissa Malfoy were going to be in need of a lot of support when they heard the news that they'd probably have to associate with Weasleys forever. Arabella, at least.
"Yeah, and you don't fall in love, either," Pansy taunted, quickly moving on.
Fall in love?
Was that what he was doing?
Oh Jesus Christ, he was going to be sick. He'd been through enough today. He wasn't going to think more on the prospect, not after all he'd seen and heard, sitting amongst the Weasleys.
"Where the fuck is my Weasley?" Blaise began with false sorrow, "Oh wait, that's right. I'd rather shove my broomstick up my-"
"Hey, easy," Theo said, suddenly the defender of all losers. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes, mate. You're just as bad as Theo these days," Blaise told him.
"I am not!" Draco was appalled!
"I mean you're not as fucking weird, and you aren't wearing any fucking protective crystals… but yeah. You're easily as gone as Nott," Pansy replied as Blaise crossed his arms, looking at Draco with raised eyebrows, clearly signaling he had support among the other Slytherins.
"Well, Granger's way better than fucking Lovegood! What do you expect?" He insisted, knowing they all agreed.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you say that," Theo answered calmly, to his credit. Draco was actually impressed. If Theo had said that about Granger, he'd be unconscious.
Blaise shrugged in acknowledgment of Draco's assertion. Ha! See, they all fucking liked Granger. He wasn't the only one.
"Please shut the fuck up," Daphne said from next to Pansy, but she sounded entertained. Hmmm… George Weasley had said well-bred, hadn't he?
"Say, Daphne, do you by any chance need a fucking tosser to irritate you for the rest of your life?"
Chapter 33: Thirty Three (By Rita Skeeter)
Notes:
In which Rita Skeeter accurately describes the quidditch match in the Monday paper.
Chapter Text
War Heroine Hermione Granger and Ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy Attend Match With Chosen One, Weasleys
Rita Skeeter (Sports, Politics, Breaking News)
All seems to be healed in our world.
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley arrived early on Saturday morning to attend the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match – Hogwarts' first quidditch game of the year. Stay tuned for my play-by-play coverage of the upcoming Slytherin-Ravenclaw match in the coming weeks, as well.
Sources close to Potter and his longtime suitor, Ginevra Weasley, claim these two have officially solidified their relationship through the Ministry's potion mandate. Ms. Weasley and Mr. Potter had been on the brink of separating prior to taking the potion due to the unrequited nature of their relationship, and the Prophet has on good authority that the requirement for of-age, unwed witches and wizards to participate in the novel program saved this young union. Congratulations to Ms. Weasley, especially, who has allegedly been in love with Mr. Potter for many years without reciprocity. Mr. Potter has, as previously reported, a very checkered history with Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang, Fleur Delacour-Weasley and others.
That past with one Miss Granger seems to be solidly in the history books… for now. Hermione Granger arrived, hand-in-hand, with Draco Malfoy at the match to sit with her two former flames in the visiting spectators' stand, where representatives for the Daily Prophet are always in attendance. Granger and Potter seemed to share a few contentious words before entering a "platonic" embrace which was sealed with a farewell kiss. Sources report that Granger and Potter told one another that they would always love each other, but ultimately agreed the Ministry's potion project made it impossible for them to proceed. Mr. Malfoy had to be restrained – the Prophet chooses not to speculate about whether or not this violent outburst was in violation of his probation but would be remiss not to remind our readers that all hearings before the Wizengamot regarding war criminals are documented in Section C and are updated regularly. Miss Granger, as reported, saved the former Death Eater from certain life imprisonment in Azkaban Prison with her testimony, prior to their falling in love.
While Hermione Granger and Harry Potter seem to have officially called off any romantic relationship, thanks to our Ministry of Magic, all is not pumpkin juice and pixies on the horizon for our war heroine and her shocking soulmate, Draco Malfoy. Upon a highly intense and unfriendly interaction between Granger's adopted family and the love of her life, the two went their separate ways following a Gryffindor win. Mr. Malfoy seemed irate, dejected and heartbroken as he left the match alone. Miss Granger attended a celebratory event in Hogsmeade with both of her former boyfriends and the Weasley family after the match. She appeared unscathed following the blowout.
While no official word on a breakup has come, be sure that the Prophet will keep you informed of all the goings-on in this tangled web. Despite encouraging comments from one Narcissa Malfoy in past weeks, there may be trouble in paradise, after all, for our unexpected soulmates. None of the players in this article could be reached for comment.
