Lesson Learned
On Draco Malfoy’s eighth birthday, he received a training broom. Lucius smiled at him, beaming. “You will be the best seeker Quidditch has seen.” Draco practiced every day in the sweltering heat and blustery cold. He would be the best. His Father had said so.
At eleven years, he arrived at Hogwarts ready for a year of studying the teams. First-years never played. But then Harry-bloody-Potter was selected for Gryffindor’s team. Every week cheering for him in the stands was his little Mudblood bitch. Draco seethed. He was the best. He was supposed to have girls cheering.
In Sixth Year, Draco left such childishness behind. He bore the mark of the Dark Lord. He’d be the best disciple, the most loyal. He worked tirelessly fixing the vanishing cabinet, correcting his Father’s failures. No one needed to know he cast a protective spell on Hermione Granger during the attack.
While serving his sentence in Azkaban, Draco reflected. He’d done wrong. He’d been led astray by Father. He wrote to Hermione, explaining how he’d been enchanted by her since First Year. How he’d kept her safe even though he’d never told her so. How he was a better man now, and he knew she felt as he did. Deep down, she loved him.
When he received her swift reply, his heart leapt. With shaking hands, he opened the fine stationery.
Malfoy,
I am shocked you reached out. I thought that sort of pluck would be sucked out of your soul. You should know I never once had feelings for you. You are scum. And now, reading how you protected me but left the people I love to die, I hate you even more. Harry and I eloped last spring. Our daughter is due in a few months. Get fucked.
Humbly,
Hermione Granger-Potter