Chapter 3
Draco
The first two weeks of school were exhausting.
Draco had been obligated to take Muggle Studies and since he had missed the first four years of this subject, he had no idea what the teacher was talking about.
The other classes were just exhausting. Usually, he had no trouble keeping up, but the lack of sleep made it so hard to focus and while most teachers went easy on him, it antagonised Slughorn even more. As expected, the man still didn’t like him. He hadn’t contacted him regarding the mind-healer and Draco couldn’t really bring himself to complain to McGonagall about this. And that wasn’t all. He made mistakes in potions, nothing major, but things he would not have done before. Potions had always been his favourite subject, Severus had taught him from a very early age, but now he just lost focus, stirred the potion too often or not often enough, his sometimes shaking hands didn’t cut ingredients as precisely as they had before, little things like that. He tried, he really tried, but it didn’t get better from Slughorn seemingly always having his eyes on him, always calling him out on every little thing, questioning Severus’ judgement regarding his grades in earlier years. Especially then, it was hard for Draco not to speak up. Severus had been a close friend to his parents, his godfather, whom he had known all his life. He missed him painfully and Slughorn talking about him like that, made him so angry. Yes, Snape had sometimes shown favouritism towards Slytherin, but he would never have given him the grades he’d had without earning them. By the second week, he had come to dread Potions, of which they had a double lesson twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays.
Other students mostly left him alone, there was the occasional Death Eather comment, sometimes a little jinx in his direction, but nothing major. It seemed to mainly come from people who had lost someone during the War and needed someone to be angry with. Draco didn’t fight back, didn’t want to give the Ministry ammunition against him. He tried to keep himself prepared for being hit by a jinx, so it wouldn’t cause him to have a flashback to the War and it didn’t exactly help that he was always prepared for an attack, albeit a harmless one.
He had further come to skip most meals to avoid sitting awkwardly on the table with the others and even with what little appetite he had had lately, he did feel somewhat hungry now. Most of his dorm mates just ignored him, except for Luna – he had no idea why she always greeted him so enthusiastically considering she had been a prisoner in his home. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger at least initiated greetings. After classes, the others always sat together in the common room and Draco stayed alone in his room. The only thing even he couldn’t miss was the constant bickering between Granger and Weasley. They shared a room and apparently that fact took a toll on both of them. That Draco could understand. He had sometimes wondered how Granger had managed not to kill Weasley while they had been on the run.
It was still painful to look at her, to remember what had happened in their drawing room. His nightmares were mainly about that since they had come back to Hogwarts and it was one of the worst memories for him to relive again and again. He felt terrible for the way he had treated her when they had been younger and he hated himself for not having been able to help her when his own aunt had used the Cruciatus on her. He would never forget the sound of her screams, the desperate look in her eyes when they briefly met his.
And still he approached her once, in the middle of the second week back at Hogwarts. It was rather late and she was reading alone in the common room, presumably to have some peace from Weasley. He had been trying to finish his Muggle Studies homework, but after two hours he still set in front of an empty piece of parchment. He had no idea what to write. He had no idea what a bloody television was, let alone the kind of entertainment it provided. The explanation in the book obviously required knowledge from the years he had missed out on. He couldn’t not to do his homework for the one subject the Ministry required him to take, so after a while, he gave up and left his room.
He was relieved to find her alone. She hadn’t heard him come out and seemed to be deeply engrossed in her book. Her monstrosity of a cat lay on the sofa next to her.
“Granger?” He finally spoke up. She flinched and looked at him.
“Oh, Malfoy, sorry, I didn’t hear you. What is it?”
This was humiliating. They weren’t friends, she had no reason to help him and had, in fact, already done so during her testimony. But it was her or Potter.
“I … was wondering, if you could explain something to me. You may know I have to take Muggle Studies and I seem to have missed out on quite a lot that I need for this homework in the previous years …” Shit, maybe he just should have written anything down, made something up.
But she didn’t look annoyed, a little surprised maybe, but not annoyed “Sure, come, sit down. Crooks, make room.” The cat on the other hand did look annoyed, but in the end, he moved to one of the armchairs.
“Thank you,” Draco said quietly and sat down next to her, opening his book and explaining what the essay had to be about. To her credit, she explained the whole thing patiently and in a way that was easy to understand, she even gave him a few tips for the essay and he thought that televisions or tellies, as she called them, were actually quite interesting. When she was done and he had taken extensive notes. He thanked her again and went back to his room. He finished the essay at past 1 am and when he finally fell into bed, he tried to get at least an hour or two of sleep. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t function like that much longer.
Hermione
No, she didn’t want problems this year, but she couldn’t help but worry. Draco wasn’t doing well at all, that at least was obvious to anyone. He also wasn’t doing well in classes, which was unusual for him, and she usually only saw him at meals once a day.
Hermione’s minor dislike for Slughorn had grown to something major. Slytherin and Gryffindor had Potions together and what Slughorn did to Draco was nothing short of bullying. Snape’s behaviour towards Harry had almost been harmless against the way Slughorn behaved towards Draco. He bore it silently.
When he asked her to help him with Muggle Studies, she wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t figure it out. It was ridiculous to make him sit through that class when he had missed all the basic knowledge that had been covered in years three to six. When he took notes, she noticed that his hands were shaking slightly, and although he was clearly trying to focus, he often crossed words out and once or twice she had to correct him.
Luna had told him repeatedly that he could just join them for meals, but he just nodded and moved on. He had lost even more weight in the last two weeks.
She wondered, if Slughorn had even brought up the topic of a mind-healer to him. Probably not.
“Maybe we should talk to McGonagall, or at least invite him to spend some time with us,” she said to Harry, Ron and Ginny, as they walked the grounds to get some fresh air on the second Saturday of their school year.
Ginny nodded thoughtfully, surprisingly Harry did too. Ron on the other hand, looked at her like she was mad. “I’m not spending time with that prick. And if he and Slughorn don’t get along, he can go to McGonagall himself.”
Hermione forced herself not to snap at him again. She had had more fights with him than she cared to admit and she now vigilantly held herself back.
She decided to wait a few more days, to see if things got better. She had no idea how much she would come to regret that.
Draco
It was Sunday and it would be full moon tonight.
Thankfully, no one would wonder about him not showing up in the common room all evening. The pros of being isolated, he thought bitterly.
He used a quick spell to lock his door and put a silencing charm on the room, so no one would hear him, if he screamed. He always did. The transformations were so bloody painful and worse, they reminded him of Bellatrix’s punishments every time she had assumed that he hadn’t performed well enough for the Dark Lord. Something else he had kept from his parents.
Speaking of his parents, his gaze fell upon the letter next to the empty vial that had held the Wolfsbane Potion.
Draco,
We understand, if you are busy, but please let us know how you are doing. A short letter will absolutely suffice.
Your Father
He hadn’t had the energy to write to them in the last few days. He had hardly managed to get through the days, let alone write a letter, pretend everything was fine to not worry them further and walk to the Owlery to send it. In the first week, he had written relatively often, but the letters had been full of lies. He was fine, he was seeing a mind-healer, he was eating, the nightmares weren’t so bad at the moment and so on. He hated that, but what good would it do to tell them how he really was? They couldn’t help him and that would be even more painful for them.
Like the day before, he promised himself he would write the next day and then the transformation began, slow, excruciating. After what seemed like a small eternity, a large wolf limped to the fireplace and rolled up in front of the flames
xxx
Draco felt sick the next day. He skipped breakfast for the sake of not moving a few more minutes. Everything hurt, the state he had been in before made the aftermath of the transformation so much worse.
But eventually he had to get up, get dressed and make his way to the dungeons, where a double lesson of Potions awaited him. Once his favourite subject, he now dreaded it deeply.
Walking the steps, even downstairs, hurt. He had no idea how to get back upstairs again, but he supposed that was a problem for later. He met Granger, Potter and Weasley in front of the Potions classroom amid the other students waiting for the lessons to start, and all of their eyes widened at the sight of him.
Just great. He probably looked as fucked up as he felt.
He almost fainted when it was the Weasel who spoke first. “Are you ok? Because you look like you’re dying or something.”
Charming.
“I’m fine.”
Granger looked like she wanted to object, but at that moment the door opened and Slughorn let them in.
His heart began to race at the sight of the teacher. If he would just leave him alone, just for today, he could get through the day. He took a few deep breaths and focused on his steps. He had only had two panic attacks since he had come back to Hogwarts (except for the ones he often had after nightmares) and both times he had been able to hide away in empty classrooms. Draco refused to have a third one in front of bloody Slughorn of all people.
He wanted to sit down, but in Potions that wasn’t really an option, so he just dropped his bag on the table, got his book out and listened to Slughorn’s endless babbling. That man really loved to hear himself talk.
And of course he wouldn’t leave Draco alone. He called on him twice and both times Draco had no idea what he had just said. The second time, Hermione fucking Granger got called out because she tried to whisper the answer to him. Obviously, he had managed to gain her pity. Why was he so fucking pathetic? Everyone seemed to be doing just fine and here he was, barely functioning. No, strike that, he wasn’t at all functioning today.
When they started to brew, Draco’s potion turned a bright blue, a colour it really shouldn’t have and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. His brain just wouldn’t work and his legs hurt so much from standing for so long the day after the transformation.
And then there was a hand on his shoulder. “Well, that didn’t turn out well, did it?”
It wasn’t Slughorn’s voice he heard, it was Bellatrix’s. “Well, that didn’t go well. You’re a disappointment, Draco” and then he knew pain would follow, pain worse than that of tonight and, gasping for air, he violently jerked away, stumbled and fell, his hand reflexively grasping the hot cauldron and its hot content spilled all over his legs. He screamed, but he wasn’t the only one. Granger screamed, too. Bellatrix was hurting her, torturing her, and he couldn’t get up, he couldn’t breathe.
The hot fluid was suddenly gone, but he hardly noticed.
Hermione
“Ron, get Madam Pomfrey! Harry, get everyone out!” The last thing Draco would need, was people crowding him.
Ron ran, Harry, too, did what he had been told, she heard him yell at Slughorn, but she didn’t pay that any mind as she knelt down next to Draco. He was having a panic attack and was gasping for air, trying and failing to move, to get up. It was painful to watch. The unfinished, incorrectly brewed potion had burned his legs badly before Hermione had been able to make it vanish. She hoped that whatever had been in there wasn’t harmful.
“Mal … Draco?” She was afraid to touch him. It had been Slughorn’s uncalled for, unprepared touch from behind that had caused the panic attack in the first place, she didn’t want to make it worse. “Draco, can you hear me?” She kept her voice low and calm, even if she didn’t feel calm at all. Why hadn’t she gone to McGonagall the day before?
“Draco, please?” A little louder, and this time his head jerked into her direction. “Good, you hear me. It’s ok, you’re safe, you’re at Hogwarts, we are in the Potions classroom, we are alone right now, you’re safe.” That was true, Harry had closed the door and there was no one else here right now. Draco gasped for breath, but managed to choke out her last name. “Granger?”
“Yes, it’s me. You’re doing great.” He wasn’t, actually. If he continued to hyperventilate like that, he would pass out. His burnt legs were flailing over the ground. She cast a mild cooling charm on them.
“Can I touch you?” Hermione asked and when he nodded frantically, she gently took his hand and felt him hold onto her for dear life. “It’s ok, I’m here,” she continued in a soothing tone and after a moment’s hesitation, she stroke through this damp hair with her other hand.
“You need to run!” He stared at her urgently. “Bellatrix will …”
“Shh, Bellatrix is dead, Draco, the War is over. You’re at Hogwarts, in the Potions classroom, you’re safe.” She kept talking to him in a soothing tone and painfully slowly, his breathing became calmer.
Minerva McGonagall
The new Headmistress of Hogwarts looked up from her paperwork as she heard Potter’s voice calling, no yelling, her name from the other side of the stone Gryffin guarding the office.
She got up, opened the office door, went down the few stairs and after the Gryffin had moved aside, she stared at Harry Potter.
“Mr Potter, what is this about? Did something happen?”
“Yes! Prof… Headmistress, you have to come.” And then he started a frantic explanation of how Draco Malfoy had been doing in the past two weeks, how he had looked especially bad this morning, how Slughorn had treated him in class, how he had caused a panicked reaction by touching his arm from behind, how the cauldron had emptied itself over his legs.
Minvera McGonagall did not curse, but she was very close to doing just that as she hurried towards the dungeons behind Potter. On the way, they were joined by Weasley and Madam Pomfrey.
The last two weeks had been busy and while Malfoy had looked bad upon arrival, she had trusted Horace Slughorn as his house teacher to make sure he would settle in alright and get the help he needed. Instead, he apparently had made everything worse.
This morning, knowing it was the morning after full moon, she had wanted to check on Malfoy, but she had been deterred by a floo call from some members of the school board and then it had already been time for class. She should have gone through with it.
They arrived at the dungeons, Poppy entered immediately and at a glance inside, she saw Malfoy lying on the ground, Hermione Granger kneeling next to him, holding his hand and running her other hand through his hair in a soothing, repetitive motion, old enmity apparently forgotten for now. She was proud of the three of them.
The one she wasn’t proud of, was her colleague.
Angrily, she turned to Slughorn. “What were you thinking?”
“Minerva, I didn’t do anything. I just looked over his shoulder and …”
“Everyone, leave.”
The students scattered, except for Granger, who was still sitting with Malfoy, still holding his hand, while Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher.
When the students were gone, she glared at Horace. “You’re fired, Horace. In an hour, I don’t want to see you here anymore.”
“Minerva, that’s …”
“You were responsible for him as his house teacher! Did you even talk to him about a mind-healer? And don’t think Mr Potter didn’t tell me how you treated him in class.”
“He was a Death Eater, not a victim!”
“Pack your things. I need teachers I can rely on.”
The stretcher with Malfoy on it floated past her. He looked half unconscious, she could only see small slits of his grey eyes, they were glassy, and he was terribly pale. But his hand was still holding onto Hermione Granger’s, and she didn’t pull away, but walked slowly next to the stretcher.
Poppy looked at her urgently. “Minerva, you should come to the Hospital Wing with us.”
~tbc~