fervere

Chapter Nine

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing closed in order to focus on not exploding on Draco early next morning. He had pulled him away from the comfort of his bed just as day broke for the mere purpose of having Draco fully tell him about Trelawney and her string of nonsensical predictions

Tired and confused as to why it was such a big deal, without meaning to, Draco locked eyes with Snape. In his sleepy stupor, Draco was caught off guard from Snape’s forceful intrusion, allowing him to come across the lovely memory of Hermione’s plump rosy cheeks and slow strides in the corridors late at night.  

Draco didn’t have the energy to block him out so he allowed Snape to roam freely on his treasured moment with Hermione. If he was honest, Draco could see how much easier it was to allow the legilimence to occur. It was the occlumency that was nearly killing him to learn. Even when Snape pulled away, pacing back and forth furiously, Draco felt completely fine. It was a stark contrast of having to fight to protect himself. It was just easier to allow it to happen.

Draco eyes his professor who had fallen silent. Aster, his office pet, curled up at Draco’s feet pleading with his owner to be kinder to his student.  

 "First name bases now?” Snape scoffed at the silly hints of teenaged romance, “Why don’t you let her take your family name while out having late night strolls in the castle next time? It would certainly save your family the time and pain from knowing where your allegiance lies.”  

Draco didn’t flinch at the slight threat, instead he felt his stomach grumble as he straightened up in the armchair that he had frequented every time he had a lesson with Snape.  

“What do you think about Trelawney?” Draco asked, fully knowing that was the reason for his abrupt rising. He had hoped that Snape had the same disdain for Divination. Draco hoped, in some way, that even if he felt every confirmation of fully fancying the living boggart out of Hermione, perhaps a bit of doubt from Professor Snape would lasso him down to reality.  

Snape didn’t reply.  

Draco didn’t understand why his professor didn’t immediately dismiss the claims of an old crackpot. Most students considered Trelawney a full-on phony, except for a select few, that is. Draco’s first thought would be that Snape would also consider her work a flashy baseless theory but his silence made him doubt his speculations.  

“You don’t believe her, do you?” Draco began.  

“What does it matter if I do or not?” Snape hissed, “When you are falling in line of her foresight, gallivanting around the school grounds with a big stupid lovesick grin on your face.” 

Usually this was the kind of thing that would stress Draco out and force him back in line to focus on his one important objective: protect those he loved.  

It was just unfortunate the circle of those he cared about was growing bigger and he wasn’t sure how strong his occlumency was to cover everyone.  

Snape dismissed him so Draco could grab breakfast and enjoy the final days of school.  

Despite having two free days to celebrate the end of exams, Draco stayed clear of Hermione, using the time to rearrange his memories. Although Snape had already seen them, it was best to make sure they were no longer accessible for anyone else to witness. He had to, after all, protect her in some way. 

That didn’t mean he would stuff away the memories for good. In all his selfishness and indulgence, Draco relished in his memories all of the details of the night before, just like the muggle movies that played in his head. He repeated it over and over again for the rest of the day that Draco was sure he was looking positively stupid with a lovestruck look on his face. He treasured the moment so much so that he wished to keep it to himself for as long as possible before he sorted and hid it. 

Not that Draco had any more objections towards the predicament he found himself in. He just knew that his second year self would be fiercely throwing a fit with his present self if he knew what was coming to him.  

Draco was caught a few times by Hermione staring at her. She was looking radiant across the Great Hall eating her dinner. He didn’t mind it when she took notice of him and looked away in surprise. In fact, he liked the skip in his heart when they locked eyes. Draco did find Ginny a bit more frightful when she kept throwing nasty looks in his direction. Still, it wasn’t enough to deter Draco from enjoying the sight.  

Just as their last free day rose to be a beautiful warm day, students were expected to be stuck inside to begin packing their belongings and have everything in order for the lengthy trip back to London the next day.

Most students had found themselves everywhere but cooped up in their dorms, much to the dismay of their professors who worried of leaving everything last minute. Even Draco found it hard to ignore such a beautiful warm day. He halfheartedly packed his books and left for the Great Hall for breakfast. It was there when he was greet with the shock of fresh air and a fresh breeze. There was no way he was going to spend most of his day down in the dungeons.

The day soon grew to be a pleasant June afternoon and there were quite a few Beauxbaton and Drumstrang students mingling with them, spending a lazy day by the Great Lake watching some of the past quidditch players zooming around the lake area on their brooms.  

Some of the Beauxbaton students pulled out sets of charming wicker baskets to have a tasty picnic. Some of the Drumstrang students took out their brooms to fly around hoping to give a final last impression to some admiring eyes. 

(Thankfully, Krum was nowhere to be found.) 

They were given permission to fly but only if they flew low enough. Due to the fact that the Maze had grown right next to the lake, there were fears that students would grow curious enough to take a peek.  

There were already a few students up in Professor McGonagall’s office in trouble for flying too high in hopes to see what was in the Maze. They were punished with being banned from the final task, a fate that most of the school certainly didn’t want to face. It was the last thing to look forward to before the school year officially ended.

Although Draco loved flying and was looking forward to the following year to have quidditch resume once more, Draco had no intention of flying when he felt weightless at the moment. He simply laid down, hands behind his head and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.  

Crabbe and Goyle were faithfully at his side, no wicker basket or broom in sight, childishly pointing at the clouds and making out forms and figures out of the shapeless puffs. Draco thought of airplates again and the hopes of having perhaps another go at muggle science stuff this coming summer with Professor Snape. Maybe Snape could tell him how motorcycles worked. 

Draco thought of ways to ask Snape about muggle things without making it obvious it was all in hopes to talk to Hermione. Surely Snape would suspect if Draco began to ask how muggles dated and if it was okay to have a girl in the back of the motorcycle with him.

Draco smirked, thinking of what kind of a well deserve punishment he'd receive and how livid Snape would be with his inquiries. 

Couldn’t be that different from the way they dated in his world. Would Hermione like those movie places he visited during the summer? Maybe she had her own bike.  

“Guess what I read in Witch Weekly ,” Goyle gushed, pulling out grass from the roots around him, “Krum asked Granger to visit him Bulgaria for the summer. Said that he’s never felt something towards a witch like this before. Could you believe it?” 

“What a dog!” Crabbe cried out, “What has Rita Skeeter said about them? She’s been awfully quiet in the Daily Prophet, hasn’t she?” 

“Dunno, she seems like she hasn’t reported anything even about the Tournament,” Goyle hummed out, before pointing to the sky, “That one right there looks like an owl, don’t you think?” 

Crabbe squinted at the cloud shape, “Oh yeah, I suppose it does.” 

Draco had tensed up but made no attempt to look interested in the topic of conversation. His ears, however, were perked up in hopes to catch every single word. 

Goyle cleared his throat, “I heard that she’s in Saint Mungo’s, she got beat up pretty bad. Probably Krum wasn’t too pleased with the reports on him and Hermione. Probably ordered a hit out on her.” 

Crabbe snorted, “What did it matter? Krum and Hermione are still being reported in other articles.” 

Goyle sighed, “Right, Skeeter missed out on some juicy news if it’s true, didn’t she? Can you imagine Granger in Bulgaria with Krum, Draco? What a laugh.” 

Draco felt a deep frown form on his placid face. Apart from having his peace disturbed by the sudden gossip, Draco was already forming a very strong opinion on it. Clearly Krum was out of his mind inviting Hermione to Bulgaria. He'd only known her for months! There was no way Hermione would have accepted either. She was too smart to jump into the arms of some beef head like Krum without proper evaluation. 

“You read Witch Weekly ?” Draco questioned, earning a light punch from his friend.  

“What else is left to read when you’ve been swiping my Wand Whisperer .” Goyle retorted.  

“Well, you don’t read it for the articles, do you?” Draco scoffed, wishing his friends would just shut up and let him rest and enjoy this warm sun for a moment. 

“Shall we make posters for tonight’s task?” Crabbe asked, “I’ve got some glowing paint left over! We can write ‘Potter blows’ on it and then, Goyle’s really good with drawing! You can draw, like, air coming out of his arse-” 

“Bubbles!” Goyle pipped up. 

“Mature.” Draco snorted.  

Moments later, Draco abandoned his friends in search of a bit more peace and solace. Draco wasn’t really in the mood to plan out stupid signs to wave around in the final task. He was thankful to have been carrying around a hand sized book he had meant to pack up that morning. Inspired to finish reading it (for the fifth time), Draco found himself alone in the hidden library nook, reading the last of Beauty and the Beast as he had been for the past hour. 

...the marriage was celebrated with the utmost splendor and an uncountable number of roses. The former beast took Beauty by the hand and promised a life full of happiness and life’s riches. And such was their beautiful little lives, living happily ever after.   

Draco smiled at the small accomplishment of turning the last page on this muggle fairy tale. He pocketed the small book and glanced at the science book he’s long abandoned on the small study table. Draco had attempted to understand the terms discussed but it was completely out of his scope of knowledge that eventually, he summed up that muggles had their own magic to help them live. 

Nevertheless, Draco found it fascinating how muggles used numbers to explain their world. Immersed in an illustration of something called an engine, Draco heard the bookshelf groan as it made just enough space for the narrow entrance. He quickly bagged his things in a panic and found himself face to face with Daphne again.  

He visibly relaxed, unaware of how tense he had been at the thought of being caught with muggle books. 

“Ah, it’s you. You'll be easy to kick out,” Daphne smiled, before she really took a look at Draco, “You look cheerful?” 

He nodded curtly, “Yeah, well, we’ve got summer break to look forward to, don't we? Any plans?” 

Daphne crossed her arms, “Nothing terribly exciting, except, I think mum is reconsidering moving us to France.” 

Draco, astonished, raised his brows, “Beaubaxton is nothing to you?” 

Daphne chewed on her lip thoughtfully, “Well she’s been on edge for the entire year now... You know how the Deatheaters marched at the World Cup last summer? Mother has convinced herself that we’re better off in France for the time being. She said something about it feeling like the how the war started before.” 

Draco felt a pang of guilt as if he was one of the Deatheaters marching with his father. He could see how terrifying it could be for those not involved on either side. Daphne’s family was one that never involved themselves politically and lived quietly.  

“You wouldn’t know anything, would you?” Daphne boldly asked before looking apologetic, “Sorry, I don’t mean to assume the worst of your family.” 

Draco shook his head. 

“No, don’t worry,” He assured, “I’ve heard things here and there but it’s hard to connect. But if I’m honest with you, I have my doubts.” 

Daphne gave him a weary smile and let out a long sigh, “Merlin, I hope so.” 

Draco recalled from some of his father's ramblings of the betrayal of some wizarding families who resorted to relocating to avoid having to announce any allegiance in the war. Draco could only imagine those families rather not deal with what Dumbledore predicted to come. Draco, himself, rather be across the world despite being skeptical on Voldemort's return.  

Draco envied the idea of being a part of a neutral family. If only his father could have just minded his own business years ago like the Greengrass’s. Draco wouldn’t have to be in such a predicament. He could worry like Daphne and not conflicted like he was now.  

Funny how when put into perspective, Draco’s own worries paled in comparison to Harry who would have the fate of the world on his shoulders should Voldemort ever return. Draco cracked a smile imagining that gangly bloke, who could barely dance, defeat Voldemort in a duel. Pretty embarrassing if you’d ask Draco. 

“Had a funny thought?” Daphne asked, throwing him a questioning look.  

Draco gave her a smug look, “Yes, actually.” 

Draco wasn't about to divulge that Voldemort's revenge on the baby who defeated him was awfully childish of him. Daphne rolled her eyes as Draco kept a tight lip as to what was tickling his sense of humor.

“You’ll write, won’t you Draco?” Daphne defeatedly asked, “Tell me what’s going on here and update me on Weasley, right?” 

He groaned, “Merlin.” 

Daphne twisted her face into a shy smile and shrugged, “You can’t blame me for being curious.” 

It was a feeling Draco knew all too well.  

“I have a feeling you’ll be more inclined to hear about Weasley if I write,” Draco sighed, “Why don’t you just approach him before the year ends?” 

Daphne shot him an incredulous look, “I didn’t think of that.” 

“Really?” 

Daphne’s soft face formed into a justified expression, “Well, I was told it was undignified! A girl like me should be approached.” 

Draco smirked, “Well, you’re not wrong. But if it has to do with Weasley, you’ll be waiting forever if you want him to approach you.” 

Daphne looked crestfallen and Draco immediately began to explain.  

“He’s daft,” He elaborated, “He’s barely acknowledging his own friend is a girl and I’m sure he’s just beginning to realize there are other kinds of humans around him.” 

She crossed her arms and cocked her head in thought, “That's mean, Draco, but I suppose you’re right.” 

“Of course, I am.” Draco pointed out, “And even if he hasn’t recognize you yet, I’m sure he’s aware you’re way out of his league.” 

“Shut up,” She said hiding a grin, "I meant approaching him. I should probably pucker up some courage and at least introduce myself."

Daphne's lips pursed in thought. It was her final chance before she was shipped off to another school.

“I hope your mother reconsiders moving you to France,” Draco honestly said, “You were decent company this year Daphne. I know that’s not saying much from Slytherin.” 

Daphne snorted, “It is a low bar, isn’t it?” 

Draco reflected her warmth back.  

“Try to come back... I’d really hate it if I waste scrolls detailing the likes of Ron to you next year.” He teased. 

 “Get out, I need a smoke.” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Later on that late evening, after a marathon of packing, students from all three schools were all gathered by the quidditch pitch, sitting on stands by the large entrance of the maze. There was a certain hum of excitement in the air as bodies poured in, looking for the best seat. Granted, they were told in advance they would not be able to see anything within the maze like they did with the last task but the moral support for the champions was greatly needed.

Draco found himself sitting near some very chatty Ravenclaws while Goyle proudly held up his sign and Crabbe sang along to Diggory songs.   

It seemed to Draco like everyone had come out to see the Final Task. The stands were full but there was still quite a lot of people roaming around in search of seats. Most students were trying to squeeze together on a bench while others preferred to stand in the very back to chat. There was some space in Draco’s row and the one person who noticed was Hermione who had walked by them. Ron and Ginny were at her side.

They all paused for a moment. Ron and Ginny looked around hunting for a some seats, except for Hermione. 

She kept her gaze on him, breaking into a small grin.

It took her no time to convince her friends to sit on the very same row as his. Hermione didn’t give Ron nor Ginny a chance to protest because she began to shuffle over the pair of Ravenclaws to reach Draco. She took a small space next to him and seated herself, looking expectantly at her friends. Draco remained silent as the two Weasley glanced in their direction bewildered at the fact that Hermione had chosen to not die before willingly sitting next to Draco. 

It if wasn’t enough trying to pretend that it was no big deal that Hermione was sitting next to him, Daphne had appeared in her blonde glory just as Ludo Bagman began his announcements.  

Daphne caught sight of Ron, a double take of the two Weasleys now shuffling over the pair of disgruntled friends. Squeezing the Weasleys in was already a task, as they all scooted closer and closer to make space. 

Daphne twisted her face in thought and Draco did her a solid favor by pushing both Crabbe and Goyle to join the row in front of them. Without much questioning, they pushed away a tiny first year from his seat and cheered along with some Hufflepuffs.  

 Daphne took the chance and tiptoed elegantly over the Ravenclaws to once it seemed there would be space for everyone.  

“Ladies and Gentleman! The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!”  

“Can I sit here?” Daphne asked out loud but it wasn’t directed towards Draco as one would expect. They all turned to see Ron turn a warm color as he panicked at being spoken to by a Slytherin girl and without an ounce of disdain in her voice. They stared at each other for a stretch of time, until Draco cleared his throat hoping that would clue Ron in that he hadn’t answered. 

“All the other seats are a tight squeeze.” Daphne gave Ron a small smile. Ron looked helplessly at her before he sputtered a small yeah, sure. Ginny mumbled her annoyance under her breath. Something about being sandwiched between two couples.  

“I’ll scoot over,” Draco announced, taking up the available space that his two friends took up. It seemed like Goyle and Crabbe were both enjoying the cheers of the crowd as they joined the last row of Hufflepuffs in their celebration of their champion. With them gone, there was ample space to have them all sit comfortably. 

Hermione immediately scooted closer to Draco and bumping her side with him until they wre all settled. Draco felt warm, their sides were pressed so close together that Draco thought it had been unnecessary considering how much room Daphne had once she sat next to Ron.  

Ron seemed immediately taken to her and, although it was a sight to see Ron stumbling over his words, Hermione had caught Draco's line of sight. They exchanged long looks that could have stretched on, but Ginny cleared her throat loud enough to distract the entranced pairs that she was sandwiched between. 

“It’s about to start,” She pointed out, crossing her arms. There was a loud drawn-out whistle that cut through the air and Potter and Diggory sprinted into the Maze. The crowd exploded into cheers. Another moment later, Krum was whistled into the maze. The Drumstrang students cheered him on.  

Clapping, Draco leaned over to Hermione when a sudden intrusive thought took hold of his actions 

“Are you really going to Bulgaria this summer?” He asked watching closely for her reaction

Hermione winced and then looked up shyly at him, “You read the article?” 

“No,” Draco admitted, “But I heard from... people.” 

“Well,” Hermione let out a long drawn out sigh, “He did ask.” 

Draco felt his heart drop as he analyzed her face for any hint of attachment towards Krum was written in her eyes. Another whistle and Delacour was off.  

“But I don’t think I can,” She shook her head, “Or should I say I think it would be too much too soon. I feel like... I barely know him, you know?” 

A faint smile appeared on Draco’s face. He couldn’t help it when a sense of relief washed over him when his intuition on Hermione was proven correct. She was a smart girl. She wouldn’t go as far as traveling to see Krum when she just met him this year.  

He breathed out, “That's disappointing. You’ll let down the faithful gossip readers.” 

“Shut up, Draco. I think it's better to spend the summer holiday somewhere closer to home.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone just as the fanfare of the crowd dissipated. Although they were unable to really see what was going on in the maze the crowd was still in high spirits. There was lots of chatter and butterbeer being passed around.

Ginny was discussing that she heard from Seamus that he saw them flying in a minotaur into the maze. Ron dismissed it by discrediting Seamus, calling him a wild exaggerator. Daphne’s eyes rounded out amused by Ron as if she was enjoying every second of the first real interaction she’s had with him. The admiration in her eyes was palpable that even a dunce like Ron was able to sense it. Ron would catch sight of Daphne and he’d slowly forget to finish his thoughts mid sentence as they stared at each other. 

It was quite entertaining to witness, Draco admitted.

Ginny gave up directing her thoughts towards them and begrudgingly turned to Draco and Hermione as her last hope. She looked particularly shocked that her evening had turned into such a confusing mess. First her brother was looking like a bumbling fool over a Slytherin while Draco and Hermione were sitting next to each other with no signs of wanting to strangle each other. Ginny even shot Draco a glare as if all this was his fault. 

Ginny huffed, “This blows.” 

Hermione nudged Draco, lightly looking away from him when he focused back on her. Hermione spoke into her butterbeer to not draw so much attention that she kept speaking directly to Draco. Sure, they were sitting together but imagine the kind of gossip that would sprout if the students actually noticed that Draco and Hermione were sharing smiles and were on speaking terms? 

“That’s why I asked you.” Hermione mumbled referring to Ginny, “Hearing everyone’s wild ideas just helped me prepare Harry as much as possible. I didn’t even think of a minotaur... hope Harry’s doing alright.”  

“Fair enough, Granger,” Draco smirked before her eyes darted to him, her butterbeer covering the sparkling smile she had plastered on her face. Draco might be going insane but he imagined a small giggle escaping her mouth. 

Draco and Hermione eventually turned their attention back to the Final Task after exchanging looks. Although the spectators had limited knowledge of what was going on inside, they managed to have fun in the crowd. Drumstrang led the cheers with their booming chants and Beauxbatons with an array of dances.  

“You’d think they were getting graded for their performances,” Ginny scoffed out loud to which Daphne added, “They are.” 

Ron, who didn’t look as mesmerized by the Beauxbaton girls as before, smiled widely at Daphne.  

“That is a very strange curriculum to have,” Ron snorted, his goofy smile still on the poised blonde. 

“I think it our turn to rev up the crowd. I wonder who will lead- oh .” Hermione pointed out when there was a slight lull in the atmosphere. Crabbe and Goyle immediately were at the front with some Hufflepuffs, waving their arms around to grab the attention of all Hogwarts. They began wildly dancing for everyone.  

“Oh god,” Draco groaned out.  

“ Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts! ” Goyle screeched while Crabbe raced around trying to get everyone to join in. They all sang along with less enthusiasm than the first two schools, seemingly embarrassed that their school traditions were a bit cheesy. It seemed like only Goyle and Crabbe were the only ones in the school spirit and that was enough to keep them entertained. They were even able to get the Hufflepuffs to do the can-can.  

“They should lay off the butterbeer,” Ginny groaned out.  

Draco held in a small laugh, “You’d be surprised. This is them in their natural state.” 

Hermione was kind enough to comment that they were doing their best. There was a little ball of fuzz that tickled Draco’s chest. Hermione was genuine when she defended Draco’s two friends. Despite how horrible they have been, she was still able to hand out a bit of grace towards them. Draco hoped with all his might she had been able to see him, truly see him. 

Hermione clapped at the end of the can-can performance before the band took over for some cheery music. She was almost startled to find Draco staring at her almost mesmerized once she returned to finish off her butterbeer. It was as if he was silently pleading with her to see him and voice her opinion too.  

“Do you want to sit next to Daphne?” Hermione pressed her lips together, glancing over at gushing Ron and an attentive Daphne. Draco didn’t take his eyes off her. 

“No, not really. I would hate to interfere with the chum,” Draco smiled but she took note of something else. 

Hermione took another good look at them, “You don’t say... them ?” 

“I’m not saying anything,” Draco chuckled.  

“Pipe down you lot,” Ginny groaned at the fact that she was surrounded by chumminess everywhere, “The tension is so thick I can barely breathe.”  

“You think Ron would fancy Daphne?” Hermione whispered towards Draco, ignoring Ginny, “I don’t think I've ever seen him talk to her.” 

Draco puffed his chest out, proud that he knew one thing Hermione didn’t. 

“Switch it around,” He plainly said, as to not draw suspicion from the disgruntled sister sitting next to him, "And it's not speculation. It's confirmed."

Hermione’s mouth dropped, “No way!” 

Draco replied with a wink.  

“Odd pair,” Hermione mused, "Don't you think?"

“I could think of an odder one,” Draco licked the corner of his mouth, catching her gaze. Once his eyes were set on her, he could see nothing else. He resented that he couldn’t easily charm her like he’s done plenty of times with other girls. He still had to be careful and he knew that with people around, they would certainly talk. Not to mention that Snape would have certainly have a choice word or two about how reckless he has been recently. 

Still, it was hard to resist reaching towards her hand to see how her hand felt or even stare a second too long without restraining himself from planting a curious kiss. It’s all he wanted to do. It was a hunger that ached in him and to fight against leaning in was destroying him.  

He didn’t care who was around. Draco found himself swimming in the brown pools of her eyes diving deep into his soft beautiful thoughts. He felt himself lean close as if he were about to whisper something to her, but a stream of red sparks cut through the inky black night sky.  

The crowd settled down and a murmur replaced the music that tapered off, anxious to see who had sent the red sparks. They all took guesses on who was the first one out and when Delacour appeared Beauxbaton’s lost their enthusiasm.  

But there was more to her forfeit.  

She was seen weeping and wildly gesturing back to the maze. It almost looked maddening to Draco who was coming down from a racing heart.  

“Think she’s trying to talk her way back into the task?” Ron asked.  

Hermione shook her head, “No... no, something is wrong.” 

Delacour’s undecipherable wails were hard to understand, much of it was in French and the rest in broken emotional English.  

“He attacked!”  

That was the most people heard and they couldn’t understand.  

“...Hunted!”  

“You don’t think something is wrong, do you?” Ginny asked Hermione and her face went blank. Her eyes emptied out as if she was searching for a missing clue she hadn’t realized was there. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione frowned, “There’s something every year...”  

Another set of red sparks and then Krum stumbled out. Delacour looked frightened as Krum blinked blankly at his return. His confusion was met with more confusion from Drumstrang who recognized something was amiss with Krum. Hogwarts students, on the other hand, were suddenly lively at the one hundred percent chance that one of their own would possibly win. Delacour, who had found a bit of respite, began screaming again, pointing at Krum.  

There was so much commotion between them it was as if they became the new entertainment while everyone speculated what was going on. Professors from all schools gathered around both champions. It seemed like a lot of wild accusations were being thrown at Krum while he visibly looked to be adamantly denying something.  

“Seems like he knocked Delacour out of the competition,” Ron crossed his arms like an old man, “I mean is it really against the rules?” 

“It's not good sportsmanship, is it?” Ginny smirked, “Still kind of cool of him.” 

“If Krum knocked Delacour out,” Hermione wondered out loud, “Then who knocked him out?” 

“Couldn’t be Diggory.” Draco pipped in with his own opinion.  

“Harry would never!” Hermione scoffed, nearly offended.  

“You’ve never been on the opposite end of a duel with Harry, have you?” He reminded, retelling of the dueling club Lockhart set up for them during their second year. She chewed on her bottom nervously.  

“Well,” She grumbled out the possibility, “Still, wouldn’t that mean that one of them is close to winning? They can’t be that far from the trophy, can they?” 

All of them shrugged but Hermione’s suspicions became a growing concern amongst all. 

They waited and waited, thoughts of kissing Hermione taking second place while they all anxiously awaited the results of the Tournament. It had to be close to finishing. Then Draco would have all the time of the world to lure himself back into her eyes and press his lips against Hermione. 

It was nearly an hour after Krum had stepped out and no sign of Potter nor Diggory was seen. Even the professors were pacing back and forth waiting for any sign to possibly jump in and help. Ludo Baggman highly discouraged having any of the worried professors meddling with the games, interfering with the tournament would be a terrible look for the Ministry.  

When it looked like a few professors, mainly Dumbledore and Snape, were about to start a match, a loud pop and thud appeared right at the entrance of the maze. 

It was Harry and Diggory both collapsed on the ground.

The Hogwarts crowd cheer and Draco clapped to congratulate. Who know Potter had it in him? Draco saw Harry had throw the trophy away and he crumbled to the fact, as much as it pained him to admit, Harry Potter must be an extraordinary wizard.

The cheers suddenly became hushed as a wailing cut through the silence, freezing everyone on the spot. The cries were even louder when the cheeres for the victors died off completely. Draco stood up to take a better look at what was going on. It was a slight frenzy when Delacour approached and began her hysteria again. Even Krum was being held back from approaching the winners.  

An eerie hush fell over the crowd when Harry’s voice rang clearly through the crowd.  

“He’s back!” Harry sobbed, “He’s back. Voldemort !" 

The world stood still for a moment. Hermione’s hands found Draco’s robes, clutching them tightly pulling him close. Startled Draco looked down at her hands. Hermione realized it too and immediately let Draco go, muttering a sorry under her breath. 

His heart attempted to flutter but it was weight down by the frightful thought that Voldemort had returned. Judging how Hermione reacted, Draco was certain he wasn’t insane. She had heard it too. Her eyes wide and bewildered at the spectacle in front of them.  

It suddenly hit Draco, splashing him with ice cold possibility. His doubt was proven wrong, pushing him to solidify the fact that Draco had now reached a fork in the road.  

Harry scrambled over and over to Cedric who wasn’t moving, crying out while Amos Diggory, Cedrics Dad staggered over to his son and the wails of his heartbreak tore in the now suffocating summer air. Mr. Diggory crawled over to his son and softly cradled Cedric. His body looked ridged, and a horrifying still look on his face seared itself into Draco’s mind. 

“Cedric’s dead!?” A voice shouted out and Draco’s vision blurred the moment he tore his sight off Diggory’s body. Draco denied it thousands of times, over and over again, in his head. Repeating it like a prayer. This was just a dream. They had it wrong. Harry probably saw a boggart in there. Diggory was probably stunned. He repeated any excuse to explain this.

Certainly Cedric couldn't be dead.  

Professor McGonagall was quick to act and began escorting all the students out of quidditch pitch, trying to reduce the slight panic and confusion that was growing around them. The entire mob of students slowly rose to their feet and with the help of all the professors and Prefects, all of the students were walking back to the castle. It should have been a nice warm nice, but the chill of the events shuttered down each and every spine.

“There’s no way Harry’s telling the truth.” 

“How could he be back?” 

“How did he die?” 

“Can’t be true? Maybe he’s injured.” 

“D’ya think Harry killed him?” 

All of the questions added to the confusion and before Draco knew it, he was separated from Hermione who was being dragged by Ron in a direction that Draco was familiar with.

The Headmaster’s tower.  

Draco stood in the middle of a terrified slow moving mob to watch them disappear up the stairs when Daphne appeared at his side, casting him a knowing look. She needed him to follow her and he did, widening his steps to catch up to her slight jog to get as far away from any eyes or ears. Daphne’s kind blue eyes watched him as if she was gathering evidence for herself.  

“You believe him,” She said, meaning to be a question but rather, it came out as a statement. A way to confirm without beating around the bush.  

Draco rapidly blinked, “I- I... it’s possible. Yes.” 

“You knew ,” Daphne whispered harshly out, “They been planning this all along, haven’t they?” 

Draco twisted his face around, feeling the panic rise in him. Because if it were true, he knew it was only a matter of time that he would be pulled into that world. He selfishly wanted more time but, genuinely, they needed more time. Draco couldn’t imagine how Harry will fight off Voldemort, surely he would want to kill Harry. Harry was only fourteen. It certainly not a fair match.

“I didn’t know it had anything to do with the Tournament.” Draco gulped, feeling quite stupid when he started to think of the year. How convenient that a dangerous event, such as the Triwizard Tournament, was stage just for Potter to bypass all the rules and restrictions. An unwilling Champion? 

It was a death wish to lead him to some trap that Draco didn’t understand. Was there a graveyard in the middle of the Maze? Were there Deatheaters roaming around in the labyrinth, is that who had attacked Fleur? Draco had plenty of questions swirling around in his head. 

“You won't return, will you?” Draco shook his head to get rid of the unanswerable questions that were plaguing him. 

“If mum get word of this, then no. She won't feel at ease knowing that our house is filled with a bunch of sons and daughters of Deatheaters.” She looked around cautiously, “But what about you Draco? Draco?” 

Still in shock, Draco asked stupidly, “What about me?” 

Daphne’s frowned, upset for me, “Your father Draco. Surely he will return to his side and... if not, then...” 

Draco felt a fear rip through the innermost layers of his soul like never before. Stories of the Dark Lord that seemed triumphant and admirable when he was a child, were now hollowed and possibly more terrifying than he had imagined. He had no choice in the matter whether or not his father would resume his role with the Dark Lord. Being a Deatheater was a vow for life. Something his father will not escape from, even if wanted to.

He only saw the difficulties ahead of him after seeing the true greed of Voldemort, sacrificing innocent and young. Surely, his fate wouldn’t be easy being so closely associated to Voldemort. 

Draco and Daphne headed to the Dungeons to try to rest, unfortunately for Draco, he spent a restless night seeing Cedric’s visceral blank face. It was made unforgivably worst when Draco was reminded that it was real. Even when Draco closed his eyes, the horror was there when he tried to sleep. The dread crept through him like slow suffocating drowning from an inevitable fate. Something that he saw perhaps far down in his life was now here.  

He could clearly see his life on Voldemort’s side and he couldn’t stomach it. If he had to watch someone like Diggory fall victim to Voldemort, then there wasn’t much separating him and Draco. He didn’t know if he could pretend to support it. The distaste grew in his mouth envisioning himself as a Deatheater. Seeing the horror in the faces of his friends pushed Draco to cement his decision. He had to choose a different path.  

He must.  

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory...”  

Draco sat towards the back of the Great Hall with most Slytherins at the End of Term feast. Most Slytherin’s had felt the shock of Diggory’s death but none of them felt adequate enough to share their condolences with any of the family. Some whispered their doubts of the Dark Lord’s return while others claimed they heard in passing from their parents that it was bound to happen.  

The odd sensation that Draco could have done more to delay or even stop the entire thing plagued his mind. Logically, he knew it was all impossible given that he only had a bit of information but that dull guilt settled at the pit of his stomach seeing how it resulted in a death.  

It could have been anyone, Draco thought, his eyes scanning around. Naturally he found himself observing the back of Hermione’s head but then he glanced around at several others in the same year as he was then over to his own housemates. The thought that it could have been him also crossed his mind and he went cold, sending his mind into a race of thoughts he had trouble trying to detangle into a decipherable one to understand. 

If I had just pushed Dumbledore... Snape could have shown me legili- and father... Why did they let Potter... how was that not the most obvious... If Diggory can suffer the same fate... There has to be a way to stop...  

Draco needed to find a way to debilitate His cause without bringing any attention to himself. Daphne accidentally bumped his side as she silently wiped tears from her cheeks listening to Dumbledore. There were a few Slytherin’s fighting back tears much to Draco’s surprise. He supposed that even he had misjudged his own house for being cold.  

Of course, there were the likes of a handful like Theodore Nott who had difficulty hiding a joyous smirk throughout the End of Term feast. Crabbe and Goyle were oddly stoic. They had suppressed their confusing sorrow and fear into a silence that Draco sensed they knew what was to come. 

What was expected of them considering their fathers’ roles as DeathEaters. 

Considering how quiet and unresponsive Draco's friends were, he suspected his friends felt somewhat responsible for their father’s actions. Seeing how invested and entertained both Crabbe and Goyle were during the tournament, it was very much a possibility they had grown to care for Diggory. If not for Diggory, just the plain atmosphere of enjoying a tournament with their fellow schoolmates.  

Draco had hung his head as Dumbledore continued talking, his eyes periodically glancing over to Hermione who had just placed her hand over Harry’s fist. Draco wanted to apologize. He wanted to do whatever it took to convince them (Hermione more so than Harry) that he had nothing to do with it. 

There was no denying it now, not when Draco had heard that Harry said there were Deatheaters present during Voldemort’s return. He never mentioned names but judging by the nasty glares Harry would shoot at Draco, he was certain that his father had participated. It would also mean that a good handful of Slytherin’s would be directly tied to Harry’s allegations.  

Despite his father’s actions, Draco wanted to prove that he had given as much information to Dumbledore so he could take care of the troubles that were in plan. He just never imagined the plan would come to fruition.  

Draco required time to think despite his heart settling on a very unexpected choice. Much like everyone else, his own world was in for a rude awakening. The ideas he was brought up with, almost like a religion, had been crumbling without Draco noticing and only now when Voldemort had returned, did he realized his foundation was demolished.

Draco needed to reform and figure out exactly who he wanted to be. He knew the answers but faced a daunting task ahead of him, one as worthy as the Triwizard tournament tasks Harry had faced. He had to somehow forsake his own name and yet, appear to remain loyal to shield those he loved. A double agent.

Was it even possible? And was he even skilled enough to fool those around his family? 

It didn’t matter at this point, Draco had to live up to the tasks that were required of him.  

There was an intense ringing in Draco's ear when the feast had come to an end, the majority food was left tun touched. Beauxbaton departed first, a mob of French girls surrounded Draco kissing both of his cheeks as they tried to make a last impression on him.  

“‘E is so ‘eartbroken!” They would say as they walked away from him, “ Je suis attristé... ” 

Their words were comforting but it wasn’t to the extend of the warmth one felt with Drumstrang’s departure. Draco received a couple of tight warm hugs and a surprise peck on the forehead from the students, their own way of showing their sympathies. 

Draco was joined by Crabbe and Goyle, who silently watched the schools leave. They were set to start for Hogsmeade Station for their train that departed at ten.

“I don’t want to go home,” Crabbe quitely admitted.  

Goyle turned to see his friend frowning.  

“Me too,” Goyle hung his head.  

Draco remained silent, refusing to say anything in fear that his voice would crack from the knot in his throat. His own dense friends knew. They knew of what was to come if it were true and it certainly looked like it was.  

“What do you think next year will be like?” Goyle asked, leaning over the parapet to get a good look at the Drumstrang ship sailing away, “You think they’d bring back the dementors?” 

“No,” Draco shook his head, as more of a hope than his own guess.  

“Think Potter really saw him?” Crabbe sighed out in disbelief.  

“Yeah,” Draco nodded, “Did you see how he was glaring at us? He must have seen our parents.” 

Crabbe winced, “Yeah but that’s our parents, we didn’t do anything. What use do we have for Voldemort?” 

Goyle joined in with a laugh, “Yeah, what would at powerful wizard like him need help from students like us?” 

Crabbed snorted, “Doesn’t sound so powerful if he asks for our help. Could you imagine?” 

Draco felt a smirk coming on his face, “Better yet, could you imagine having such a title and needing to defeat at fourteen-year-old to prove yourself?” 

The three friends shared a laugh and the more that they laughed, the tighter their stomachs squeezed. Draco began to wipe away tears.  

“Or needing a ton of supporters to help him,” Goyle snorted out.  

Draco felt his face turning red from the deep belly chuckles that rattled within him. Was it appropriate to be laughing at this moment? No. But was it desperately needed? Absolutely.  It was fully appreciated that there was a noticable change in Draco's friends. Draco could sense it in them. Perhaps Draco wasn’t alone in wanting something else entirely different. Perhaps it was fear that caused doubt in Crabbe and Goyle, and allowed them to joke about the absurdity of their situation. Whatever it was, it was a start.

They eventually made it to the carriages that took them to the station. A bustle of Hogwarts students boarded the crimson train in various states of uncertainty. Nobody, not even Draco knew what it meant for next year or what it would look like with the threat of Voldemort over their heads. Despite that, after a shit night of attempting to sleep, Draco clung on to a few vials of sleeping tonic he planned on taking on the train ride back to London. He gave his friends some too and ended up locking themselves in the first compartment they saw empty on the Hogwarts Express.

Draco had a pleasant rest but it also gave him strange dreams of Hermione. 

It was nothing special in particular nor menacing. She was simply there in his dreams as if they were waiting for the other to speak. They stared at each other for a long time. Draco was content to see her without the added fear of the world weighing on them. They simply existed there in his dream, and it sufficed.  

It must had been past seven o'clock when Draco finally woke up. Unfortunately for him, his pleasant dream warped and worsened towards the end. The sleeping vials had done their job of imprisoning Draco in his nightmares where he couldn’t wake up from Diggory's frozen face or the haunt of the unknown Voldemort at the foot of his bed. He shook out of his slumber and pushed Crabbe off of him. His friends body flopped over to Goyle who muttered out an order of fish and chips.  

Draco observed his unconscious friends, drooling on the shoulder of their robes, and wondered if it were possible to weaken the Deatheater’s side by disrupting the next generation’s beliefs. If it was at all possible for Draco to evolve and change, then it was capable for any of the Slytherin’s in his house.  

Draco stuffed himself in the corner and smiled, wondering if it were possible to discretely dismantle any thoughts of future Deatheaters in their midst.  

It was when Draco completely understood that the choice was now at his doorstep, just like Dumbledore predicted. Like Snape did as well. With heavy bags under his eyes, Draco realized whether he was ready or not, a choice needed to be made if it was true about Voldemort’s return.  

And Draco was surprised how easy it was to decide.