Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise nor the characters in it.
This story is purely for the sake of shits and giggles, with a plot, of course. I hope y'all enjoy, and if you want to reach me, my Tumblr handle's /apollognese but I do have a Dramione-centric Reddit account at u/Swotdoodler.
Eighth Year was not going well for Draco Malfoy.
Since the Wizengamot had declared him unfit for prison, his life's routine became a series of mirroring glares, receiving punches, and dodging unwarranted curses—only made worse when he received his annual Hogwarts letter, blasting him in the face with an additional responsibility that he could not reject.
He supposed it had its pros—that Head Boy would at least make him untouchable to the student body—but even the sodding professors managed to sneak in a hex or two.
'Bloody unprofessionals, the lot of them.'
Draco could handle verbal duelling to an extent, though constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure some twat wasn't on their way to reopen his stomach was another thing.
He shuddered at the memory.
During one of his nightly patrols, he'd had the misfortune of coming across a nasty brawl between two third-year Gryffindors, and didn't expect one to have concealed a three-inch long dagger. He realised as much when the tosser had buried it deep into his left abdomen and yelled something about Death Eaters—something Draco was sure he'd heard hundreds of times since his acquittal—before he ran with the bloke he was beating up.
It was no different than the war, really. Only this time, there were more people out to get him, if not all of them. Except for her.
Draco believed it ludicrous that the only upside to not rotting in a cell in Azkaban was his fellow Head and dormmate: Hermione fucking Granger.
Never in his life would he have thought that Granger, of all people, would become his only source of peace and happiness or any other emotion he was sure he was incapable of having. She made him hurt, she made him annoyed, she made him smile and laugh so hard he might have popped a vein. Worst of all, she made him love.
It wasn't the kind of affection he held for his mother either, or any of his new and few friends; rather, a genuine and sappy love that had him pulling up twice the amount of Occlumency walls just so he wouldn't get on his knees and start wooing her with poetry.
The insufferable swot made him care for things he wouldn't even have thought twice about, and he didn't know whether his clenched fist was a form of disgust at what he had turned into, or resistance from the need to just pull her doe-eyed face to his and snog her senseless.
It was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. If not her, then her blasted familiar was.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?" Draco reprimanded the orange wad of fur currently digging a grave at the gap of Hermione's door.
The old fart had the audacity to ignore him, making the scratches and grumbles louder for effect. Draco sneered and took four long strides towards Crookshanks. He was an inch close when the cat hissed and ran down into whatever hellhole he crawled out of.
Was Granger still in her chambers? From what he knew, she went ahead and offered the fresh Muggle-born students a tour of Hogsmeade, actively squashing his plans of asking her to accompany him instead. It marked the third time he'd been turned down by her, no matter how fortuitous it was.
Draco could only ruffle his hair in frustration. Was asking a witch on a date supposed to be this hard?
His friends could not deny it. Not when it was Miss I-have-plans-every-minute-of-every-day Granger. But Draco didn't know, he was never one to ask because the girls did it first, sometimes unnecessarily throwing themselves at him in the process and giggling into his ear.
Should he do that? He wasn't sure about the giggling, but if she spoiled his ploy one more time, he'd seriously consider it as his only option.
"Mate, you ready?!" an idiot boomed below. Theodore shitting Nott was early.
"You're early," Draco voiced, stepping down to the common room.
Next to an annoyed looking Theo was a blonde woman covered in a Slytherin cloak that was much too big for her. It hid her body—no doubt dressed in an odd combination of colours and cloth—but her pale face smiled at him dreamily.
"Yeah, because the sooner we get there, the longer I get to enjoy my date," Theo argued, looping an arm around Lovegood who affectionately patted his hand in return. The sight did not fare well with Draco's stomach. "We already wasted enough time waiting for everyone to go first."
Why did he agree to come with them again? Oh, yes: backup, unless he wanted to revisit bleeding to death. That, and he wanted to see Granger.
"I believe Hermione would be in Zonko's at this time," Luna informed with a slow blink, her smile unwavering.
Draco raised a pale brow. "And you know this, how?"
"She made a timetable."
"Of course, she did." He rolled his eyes and went straight for the door, past the couple. "Let's go."
The sooner he found Granger, the better. Draco couldn't help but smirk at the image of her fuming in annoyance when he disrupts her tour, effectively screwing up her programme like she did his.
"You think you're going to be alright, Draco?" Theo asked, no longer focused on him being a burden on his time with Luna, but worried for a friend.
He had been there when Draco was stabbed. He and Granger had both been there, and they were the ones who patched him up. It was not a good night for each of the parties involved.
"As long as I keep out of sight," Draco replied.
"Don't worry! Good ol' Theo's got your back."
No the fuck he did not. As soon as they got past the first shop, Theo excitedly dragged his girlfriend inside with him to spoil her with whatever—probably another addition to her collection of weird-looking garments.
'Good for him for finding something else to fixate on,' Draco thought. Since Nott Sr. had passed not long after the war by his own hand, his only heir naturally inherited everything from the gold to the dirt. But Theo was not in a good place and had used almost half of it on every alcoholic beverage imaginable, magical or otherwise.
Then one day, out of the blue, he shows up a month late at Hogwarts looking sharp and happy as ever for a reason Draco soon found out to be bloody Lovegood. He wasn't apprised of the technicalities, just that loony bird had somehow pulled the boy out of his miserable shell and now he was sickeningly obsessed with her.
On the other hand, Draco still couldn't see a single sign of Granger anywhere, and his bollocks were a minute close to becoming ice cubes. What's more, thick bits of snow had started falling again, making it impossible to see things at a distance and possibly wetting his black suit.
He could hear, nonetheless, and the first thing he picked up were the taunting, high-pitched cackles of an unknown, secluded group.
Located in a snowy clearing a couple ways from a row of houses were what looked to be five students between fourth and sixth-years wearing a variety of silly, demon-esque masks. They were laughing, cheering, everything akin to a boost for the holiday spirit as they had their wands and attention raised up to the sky.
Only then did Draco see something floating—no, bouncing—in the air. As he got closer, he realised it was an animal. Not a dog, or a cat, but something equally as small, if not smaller. All he could really make out was that it was brown and a bit long and slim, considering the way its body twisted and turned like the springing toy Hermione had showed him a month ago. What did she call it, again? A slunky? Slinky?
The animal's chirps and squeals of terror reached him, further solidifying his initial assumptions and making his blood rise in anger.
The scene was all too familiar for him suddenly, as flashes of Impostor-Moody were conjured in the back of his head.
"Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret!"
The sensation of his feeble ferrety body colliding on the stone floor again and again while the rest laughed stunned him like a Crucio. Up and down, up and down.
His hand yanked the wand out of his pocket and he marched towards the conniving brats, uncaring that the first thing in his mind was an unforgivable curse.
They were too busy with the crying slinky, ignorant to his heavily charging footsteps when a tree exploded. All five jumped as high as they could, startled and silenced, until they snapped their heads towards the dark-clad figure a metre away.
"Drop it," Draco ordered. Venom laced his tone which had each scrambling in different directions, taking the floating spell with them and he caught the animal just in time.
It was a river otter. A very dizzied one, from the looks of it. Its head swayed side to side like a drunk while its paws trembled on the lapels of his coat. Its silky, brown hide was a contrast to the creamy underbelly; and it had a darker, button nose.
He shifted the mustelid to lay down on his forearm, parallel to a newborn, when the swaying stopped. Its beady, black eyes locked onto his with a drop of its jaw as it stiffened in his hold. They continued the contact for what felt like two, long seconds before the otter completely lost it.
It went mental—squirming away from him so vigorously as though it had been burnt. Draco tried keeping it steady and calm but it eventually slipped out and fell into the white, cold pillows below, still freaking the fuck out.
"Hey, it's alright," Draco held his hands up cautiously. What the fuck was he doing? If only his younger self could see him now. "It's alright. I'm not one of them."
The otter froze on all fours, its back arched, and looked at him incredulously—if that was even possible. It was heaving, then it stood on its hind legs as it gazed down at its tiny paws.
It went feral once more, spraying snow everywhere it landed.
Draco was at a loss on what to do as he observed the scene. Had the students addled its brain somewhat? Should he take it to Pomfrey? Did the bint even know how to treat animals of this kind?
He stopped, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nope. He saved it, that's what matters. It was time to move on.
Walking away to resume his previous task, he heard a desperate squeal from the otter—different than the ones it was emitting during the tantrum. It was clear and steady, beckoning him to turn around.
The mammal hopped towards him in record speed before palming his trouser leg for support and it peered up with pleading eyes. His brows knitted.
"Now you want my help?" Draco asked.
He received a chirp in response.
"Well, I can't very well take you to any of the magizoologists or healers in the area since I'm not welcomed anywhere but outside," he exclaimed with a shrug. "Besides, you seem to be doing just fine and dandy now. Go back to your nest or something."
It mewled angrily, following each stride of his retreat.
"Are you daft? I said go already."
It didn't, which prompted a game where the otter raced ahead of him to block his path only for him to step over it easily. Even so, he had to be careful not to accidentally kick the persistent, little thing.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Fine! I'll take you to Pomfrey," Draco threw his arms up in exaggeration. He picked up the mangy rat using one hand, fingers wrapping around its torso as his palm supported the chest. It laid with its belly flat against his inner forearm, short legs on either side as its front claws dangled down uselessly. "But first, you're going to help me look for Granger. Who knows, you might even help me win her over."
The otter suddenly screamed and repeated to thrash about.
"You keep that up and I will throw you back where I found you." It surprisingly understood, going limp as a Hippogriff's meal in defeat. Was it actually pouting?
Draco shrugged. He couldn't care less. All he needed was for it to behave.
Finally, he sauntered back to Hogsmeade, his thoughts back on Hermione—wondering what she'd think of him saving a threatened otter. Would she like it enough for her to look him in the face again? Would it entitle him another kiss?
Unfortunately for his mood and high expectations, his search ended up a waste hours later when it was near time to return and he'd not seen a single strand of Hermione's bushy head over and under the crowd.
Theo, sporting a shit-eating grin, had found him eventually—sulking in a corner—and sure enough, he and Luna were carrying huge bags of Merlin only knows what. If what they were wearing was any indication, he didn't want to know.
"Where's Hermione, and what is that?" Theo pointed to the passed out mustelid in his arms, now bundled up in his scarf.
"I've not seen her actually," Draco answered. He sighed heavily. "And this is just something I found being tormented by some trolls this morning. I'll take it to Pomfrey as soon as we get to Hogwarts."
"How… Gryffindor of you." Theo's smirk was punchable. He had no energy for it though, having spent it all looking for a swot that had successfully avoided him in precisely nine hours and thirteen minutes.
Luna, being herself, simply stared at the creature in fascination before reaching out to gently stroke its head. The otter whined in protest, turning away to further bury itself in the woolly cocoon.
"She's quite lovely," she said.
"She?" Draco asked and caught himself just as quickly. "You know what, let's just go. It is bloody freezing right now and Granger's probably gone back, too."
Much to his utter disappointment, she hadn't.
And when rumours broke out that no one had seen the Head Girl since brunch, Draco's irritation transformed into worry.
Where the hell was Hermione Granger?