Hello everyone,

I hope you're all doing well. This is my first story on this account, but trust me, it's not my first fanfiction. Somewhere out there, hidden under another name, you might stumble upon more of my work. But let's focus on this one. And Then Malfoy Jumped, yeah, that title popped into my head one evening for no reason whatsoever. No deep inspiration or life-changing moment. Just Malfoy literally jumping. Naturally, I thought, 'I absolutely have to write this.' So, here we are.

I plan to post a chapter each week, as long as inspiration sticks around and I don't decide to tear everything apart in a fit of writer's regret. So let's hope for the best!

English isn't my first language, so please, be gentle with me. But feel free to leave any feedback cause I'm always open to hearing how I can improve.

I really hope you'll enjoy this new fanfiction. I'll see you next week for chapter two of ATMJ!

P.S. Comments are like fuel to me. If you've got a spare moment, leave one! I spent years lurking silently in the fandom, and now I'm making up for it because, honestly, a single comment can make an author's whole day. So don't be shy, we love it!

Happy reading, and enjoy the drop!

xoxo, azraelia


Draco Malfoy jumped from the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione Granger stood still, frozen by that single sentence. She had first overheard in a hushed, muffled whisper, exchanged in the cold corridors of Hogwarts. Then it spread, like a silent wave, passing through whispered conversations until it became a fact accepted by all.

Draco Malfoy was dead.

It didn't feel real. How could a boy who had survived so many horrors, who had managed to navigate between darkness and light during the last year, simply… give up? Hermione had often wondered what went on inside Draco Malfoy's head. He had changed since the previous year. The arrogance that once defined him had been replaced by a quiet tension, a burden even she, one of his oldest enemies, had noticed.

But never had she imagined it would lead him to jump.

She had been there that day, so close, even though she hadn't seen him fall. So near, and yet, she knew nothing. The Astronomy Tower had become silent since Dumbledore's death, almost a sacred place that few dared approach. Draco had been there, alone, and something larger than his own fears and his own doubts had driven him to commit the irreparable.

Hogwarts was no longer the school where she had learned her first spells, where she had made her first friendships. It had become a silent battleground, where Severus Snape, now headmaster, ruled with cold ruthlessness. The Carrows, those infamous Death Eaters, patrolled the corridors, spreading terror in their wake.

Even so, Draco could have survived. Couldn't he?

Hermione now stood in an empty common room, the crackling fire offering a bit of warmth but no comfort. Harry and Ron were asleep, exhausted by yet another day of preparation, their silent planning for the war that threatened to erupt at any moment. But she couldn't close her eyes.

Why?

That was the question burning in her mind. Why had Draco chosen to leave? She knew he had changed. During their sixth year, she had often caught his anxious glances, his hesitations, but also his strange, almost obsessive resolution. Thanks to Harry and his experiences with the Pensieve, she knew just how deeply Draco had been involved in dangerous plans, acts dictated by constant fear. The mission to kill Dumbledore, that weight on his shoulders… But wasn't that supposed to be over? Had Voldemort abandoned him? Or was it the other way around?

Hermione couldn't reconcile the image of the arrogant, haughty, and cruel Malfoy with that of a boy so desperate he would jump. She had seen him this year, often alone, drifting through the corridors like a shadow. But she never believed he would go so far. There was something she didn't understand. Something just out of her reach.

Maybe, if she had been more attentive, she would have seen the signs. Maybe she could have talked to him, asked him questions. But the truth was, she had never really tried to understand him.

She had hated him from the first time they met, and that hatred had only grown over the years. His arrogance, his pure-blood status, his open disdain for everything unworthy of his elitist world… Draco Malfoy embodied everything Hermione loathed. He was the antithesis of everything she stood for. And for years, she had clung to that hatred, almost comfortably, because it was easier to hate him than to see beyond his actions and beyond his insults.

But to wish him dead? No, she had never wished that.

Death was absolute, a final stroke with no return. Hermione had no place for blind hatred or vengeful desires. She had seen too many needless deaths in this looming war, cruel and violent deaths, and despite everything Draco was, he didn't deserve to end like this. Not like that, alone, abandoned, and most likely broken.

She forced herself to push back the wave of pity threatening to engulf her. It wasn't Draco she mourned, but the injustice of his end along with the absurdity of that desperate act. Hermione couldn't accept that death was the only way out for him, that it was the answer to all his problems.

He had jumped from the Astronomy Tower. But why?

She couldn't shake that question. It was like a splinter lodged beneath her skin, impossible to ignore. And the more she thought about it, the more it became an obsession. Draco Malfoy had always been an enigma, even when he openly hated her, even when he hurled his venomous insults. But this act… this act didn't fit the image of the arrogant and self-assured boy she had learned to hate all her schooling.

So, why?


The next day, Hermione returned to the library. There, among the books, she hoped to find some form of distraction, a way to bring order to her thoughts. But today, the words seemed to float in front of her eyes without sticking.

The mechanically turned pages offered no diversion, and in every silence between breaths, she returned to that invisible scene etched in her mind.

Hermione sighed and abruptly closed her book. She simply couldn't focus, her mind constantly drifting back to the image of Draco jumping from the Astronomy Tower, even if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. It wasn't sadness she felt. She had never liked Draco Malfoy, after all. They had despised each other for years, and he had bullied, insulted, and humiliated her at every opportunity he had. So why was she so disturbed? Perhaps it was because none of this matched the image she had built of him.

She stood up sharply, too restless to remain seated in the uncomfortable chair. Her feet led her, almost automatically, to the restricted section of the library. At this late hour, the place was nearly empty. Even Madam Pince seemed to be elsewhere. Hermione loved this place, its tranquility, the chance to get lost among thousands of books.

She wandered slowly through the aisles, her fingers brushing the dusty spines of rare tomes. She had no real purpose. Her mind wandered, still troubled by recent events. Then her gaze fell on a corner of the shelf, a row of dog-eared and poorly arranged books, as if they had been hastily shoved there by careless hands.

A notebook. No, not a book - a diary. Its cover was worn, and the letters engraved on it were barely distinguishable. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed it. It didn't belong here, not in the midst of the dusty and precious volumes of the Hogwarts library.

Turning it over in her hands, she frowned. This wasn't an ordinary magical text. There was nothing special about it at first glance. No seal, no title, nothing to indicate it was something notable.

Curious, she opened the diary to the first page.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

"D.M."

Those initials, scrawled in a corner of the first page, made her stiffen. "D.M."? Her heart raced, and her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the first few pages. Could this really be what she thought? It didn't make any sense. What was Draco Malfoy's diary doing here, in the library, in this neglected and forgotten corner? She quickly glanced around. Still no one.

Hermione took a deep breath and began to read.

September 15th

I no longer sleep. The dreams chase me every night, and the rare times I find sleep, I wake up drenched in sweat, feeling like my heart is going to explode. Dumbledore's face haunts every corner of my mind. He offered me the chance to stop everything, to choose another path. But I couldn't. I was too weak. There's a bitter irony in that, isn't it? The pure-blood, the Malfoy heir, too weak to do what is 'right'. The mission is over, but I don't feel freed. Every day, I feel the chains tighten a little more around me.

Hermione blinked. She had always imagined that Draco didn't care about the consequences of his actions, that it was all just a power game for him. But these words seemed to suggest otherwise. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she really had the right to read what appeared to be such intimate thoughts. But curiosity got the better of her, and she turned another page.

October 2nd

Hogwarts is no longer the same. This castle that I've walked through hundreds of times, where I despised and hated so many people, has become a prison. The Carrows delight in the terror they spread, and I pretend to enjoy it even to take pleasure in it. But each wand stroke they inflict burns me inside. I see the faces of those I've hurt, and sometimes… sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just stop. To simply jump.

Jump? The word echoed in Hermione's mind with a chilling intensity. He had thought about this long before what happened. For weeks, he had contemplated this way out, and no one saw it coming. Not her, not Harry, not any other student, not even Snape. She continued, turning to a new page, her breathing now faster.

October 10th

He watches me. Voldemort. I feel it, even when he's not there. It's like he left a part of himself in my mind. He no longer needs to speak, to give orders. He knows. He knows what I think, and he knows I am not worthy of him. I will never be like my father, and maybe that's what will save me. Or perhaps more it's what will doom me.

I saw him in my dreams last night. He told me that if I didn't complete my task, my mother would suffer. But I no longer want this task. I no longer want this burden.

I hate hearing my mother cry out in pain.

Hermione felt her throat tighten. This was no longer the boy she thought she knew. She had always seen him as an enemy, someone petty and cruel, but these words showed something else. Just a little boy trapped, torn between his family's expectations and his own conscience.

She couldn't believe he had left such a journal here. Why abandon it in the Hogwarts library?

She turned another page.

October 22nd

They know nothing. No one knows. They still see me as little Malfoy, daddy's boy, arrogant and despicable. They have no idea that I'm already dead inside. Every day is a struggle to keep the mask on. Every smile is a farce. Sometimes, I envy Potter, Weasley, and Granger. At least they know where they stand. They know who they are and what they have to do. Me, I'm nothing more than a puppet in a war I never wanted.

If only they knew how lucky they are…

Hermione slammed the journal shut, her mind racing. She couldn't keep reading anymore. Everything she thought she knew about him was crumbling page by page. She had never considered what he might be feeling. She had never seen him as anything other than the antagonist. But now, after reading these words, this vulnerability, she could no longer pretend he was just a coward.

She leaned against the shelf, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. Hermione clutched the journal against her, her eyes lost in the darkness of the library. She had never wanted to see Malfoy in a different light, but now, she had no choice. He was so much more complex, more broken than she had ever imagined.

Hermione didn't know what to do with this revelation. She wanted to say that it didn't concern her, that Draco Malfoy's suffering didn't matter to her, that he was just a former rival. But the words she had read haunted her, red-hot forged in her mind, leaving her with a feeling of unease she couldn't shake off.


She hadn't reopened the journal since that night. Just knowing it was under her pillow was enough to intrigue and frighten her at the same time. Every night, as she slipped into bed, she felt the journal's cover pressed against her cheek through the pillowcase, like an extra weight on her mind. She slept with it there, so close, but she hadn't dared to read it again.

At the same time, it held a strange fascination for her. The idea that these pages contained Draco's deepest thoughts, this long-time classmate, this boy who had always been a source of irritation and hatred for her, disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. There was something intimate, almost forbidden, about possessing this journal, and maybe it was this newfound closeness with Draco's mind that made her so nervous.


One evening, after a long day avoiding the Carrows and trying to help Harry and Ron figure out the next step in the Horcrux hunt, Hermione collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. She closed her eyes for a moment, but her mind was still too agitated to find rest.

She knew she wouldn't sleep.

Her fingers slid under her pillow, finding the journal. She hesitated, her hands trembled slightly as she gently pulled the notebook from its hiding place, holding it before her in the soft moonlight. It was worn, a bit tattered at the edges, as if it had been flipped through countless times, but always with a certain restraint.

Hermione knew she couldn't simply read it here, in her bed. That would be… disrespectful, in a way. If she were to dive back into his thoughts, it had to be in a place that meant something. A place where, perhaps, she could understand what had driven him to write these words.

The Astronomy Tower.

The idea came to her so quickly it surprised even herself. After all, that's where it all started. That's where he jumped. Where his story ended. Maybe by returning to that place, she would find answers she couldn't discover otherwise.

With the journal in her hand she got up cautiously. The dormitory was silent as Parvati and Lavender slept peacefully, their breaths slow and steady. Hermione quietly stepped out on tiptoe, careful not to make a sound.

The corridors were empty at this late hour. The castle, usually lively even at night, seemed asleep under the weight of the battle that was about to break out at any moment. The portraits, frozen in deep sleep, no longer observed the few students who dared to venture out after curfew, for fear they would be punished by the Carrows. Hermione walked quickly, a knot of anticipation in her stomach, each step bringing her closer to the tower.

Finally, she reached the spiral staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower. The climb felt long, even interminable, and she began to feel breathless.

When she reached the top, the cool night air hit her face. The half-moon shone high in the sky, bathing the tower in a pale, almost ethereal light. She remained still for a moment, breathing in the cold air, trying to calm her heart, which was pounding from the physical exertion.

She slowly approached the edge, where Draco had jumped. Her fingers gripped the railing tightly as vertigo seized her. It must have taken courage to jump from such a height.

Sitting slowly against the wall, she opened the journal to a new page.

November 12th

I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Each day seems more unbearable than the last. They all look at me. Some with pity, others with contempt. I see their judgment in their eyes. Even my own mother… I've become a stranger in my own home. And here, at Hogwarts, I'm a ghost.

I pass by them, and they lower their heads, as if they don't want to see me. Maybe they're afraid of what I've become, or maybe they simply prefer to forget me. I don't blame them.

Sometimes I wonder what a different life would have been like. If I had made different choices, if I had refused to follow the path that was set for me. But it's too late. And now, I must live with the consequences.

There was something painfully honest in these words, something she had never seen in him. She wondered if anyone had ever taken the time to truly see him, but considering how he ended it, she assumed the answer was negative.

November 28th

They asked me to do it today. Again. A new mission. As if I hadn't already failed enough. As if my past mistakes weren't enough to prove I wasn't up to the task. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to obey them. Part of me just wants to say no, but I know what would happen if I did. My mother's scars are the horrible proof of that.

But I can't afford to make choices. Not really.

Hermione shivered, though the night air wasn't that cold. A strange feeling of unease settled over her, and she gently lifted her head from the diary, looking around. There was nothing and no one.

She turned her attention back to the journal, but the discomfort lingered in the pit of her stomach. A faint breath on her back followed by a slight movement at the edge of her vision ahead. Her heart raced in fear as she slowly looked up, her breath catching in the cold air.

And there, standing before her, almost floating, was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione froze. Her fingers released the journal, letting it drop to the ground with a dull thud. Her mind couldn't process what she was seeing. Draco Malfoy, the same boy who had jumped from that tower one week ago, stood a few meters from her, pale, unreal, almost translucent in the moonlight. His face was frozen in an indecipherable expression, his gray eyes fixed on her with an intensity she had never seen in him while he was alive.

She opened her mouth to speak, but shock rendered her mute. She couldn't look away, afraid that if she blinked, he would disappear. This wasn't a dream, it wasn't a hallucination, was it?

He didn't move, seeming just as surprised as she was, as if he hadn't expected to find her here, at this precise moment. An eternity seemed to pass before either of them spoke.

At last, Draco's lips parted. His voice was tinged with curiosity, almost uncertain, as if he himself doubted what he was seeing.

"Granger, can you see me?"