fervere

Chapter Forty Four

As the summer trickled on there was a strange mix of a sense of relief and foreboding in Draco. He often found himself staring out his window when he had nothing else to do, waiting for something, perhaps fate or death, to swoop in and save him. He’d scan the skies as a comfort to keep his mind at peace. It was the only thing that helped him focus on the wave of pain of his new reality.  

He knew he had to confront his own mourning. If he stashed it aside, he wouldn’t be able to accept this new life and delaying the acceptance meant he couldn’t organize beyond the burning fury he had for his family.  

There were plenty of nights where Draco would wake up in the middle of his dreams to find tears stinging his skin, rolling down his face. The corners of his eyes were matted with the salts of those tears when the morning came. His spirit was crushed.

And while he trained to be a faithful servant to Voldemort, Draco thought of faces of friends he had grown close to.  

All that effort he had put in to gain their trust and their confidence was down the drain. They’d never believe that Draco was forced into this life, would they? 

He desperately didn’t want anything to do with this life that was forced upon him, that even Bellatrix picked up on it quickly. She did her best to train it out of him. Have Draco submit.  

He did.  

Somewhat.  

He ran to get the false sense of escaping, sprinting until he couldn’t breathe and threw up the contents of his breakfast, only to continue running again until he ran for hours just to avoid lessons from Bellatrix.  

His aunt had brought in an old punching bag, so Draco could find the spark in him to throw a good punch. Channel all the rage in him in hopes that it would help Draco throw a good spell. It did help. Sort of. It ignited an anger in Draco, cutting up his knuckles until they bled to the bone. He imagined fighting a young version of his father, around his age, feeling like his hit hard enough it would warp the timeline to knock some sense into his younger father.  

Draco turned three punching bags into shreds but it still didn’t give the results Bellatrix was now panicking over.  

“The Trail of Worth is tomorrow and all I’ve managed to do is make him fatter!” Bellatrix would complain.  

Draco paid her no mind, as he did a final set of push ups dripping with sweat. He gently led her out, asking for privacy when he wanted to shower off. His aunt didn’t argue. Bellatrix stalked off, muttering under her breath, worried sick because she hadn’t completely broken Draco.  

He locked his room and grabbed a towel, placing a set of headphones over his ears. The sounds of music lifted his mood a bit as he ripped off his clothes in the bathroom, observing his hands for any new callouses to ask Sephina to mend.  

There were a few lashes on his back his aunt gave him that were know fading. Draco twisted around to see his reflection and although his back looked fine, there was still that deep healed gash on his arms he had received at the Department of Mysteries.  

Sephina popped in with a tray of his usual toiletries and medicinal pots to use. 

“It still hasn’t faded,” Draco muttered, glancing at his bare torso once more before he turned to Sephina who crawled up the toilet seat to jump onto the counter. She had a pot of dittany oil to daub on his old scar.  

“Wicked curses often never do,” Sephina gave him a weary smile, “But I’ll put a few drops in your bath-” 

“No bath,” Draco cleared his throat, “Just a shower today. I need to be ready by noon.” 

“Right,” Sephina nodded, “Diagon Alley.” 

Draco dismissed her and jumped into the hot shower. Despite the limited time, Draco ensured that every nook was clean. It didn’t help with the pain of a sore body, but at least the warmth of the water running down the ripples of his back help with the tenseness.  

Draco was not at all fatter as his aunt would often point out. He was bigger. Nothing really fit him other than sweat pants and hoodies and if he wasn’t wearing that, Draco was usually shirtless, outside enjoying the hot summer sun sizzling at his pale skin.  

It brought a little bronzy color into his face. Draco felt like utter shit about everything else but at least his face was glowing and the development of muscles wasn’t too bad.  

He managed to find a pair of black slacks that were long enough and found a school vest amongst his things that belonged to Goyle. Sephina later brought him a plain black robe that belonged to his father to wear.  

And then he stared out the window again, watching the small fluff of clouds lazily cover the sun and the drift off once more, letting his skin drink up as much warmth as he could.  

His mother fetched him about ten minutes later with one of the bigger houseelves to tag along as an assistant. Draco and Narcissa shared a tense conversation about nothing in particular as Narcissa lead him to their grand fireplace, ready to floo.  

Once the green flames engulfed them and they stepped out into Diagon Alley, his mother stopped him for a moment and explained their plan.  

“Shopping,” She plainly said, “We have books to retrieve, potions ingredients to refill. Snape informed me your cauldron needs a good replacement; we’ll grab a new pewter one too. I’ll have Freddy from the Owl Emporium ship you a years' worth of owl food for your pet.” 

A memory ticked into Draco’s head of perhaps a reason why he had been staring out his window.  

Right. His owl... He hadn’t used his owl at all this summer. 

“And a trip to Borgins,” His mother finished with a flourish finality it took Draco a second to react when she promptly began to walk away from him.

Draco’s mind had been stuck on owls.  

“Borg-,” Draco snapped his mouth shut when a group of people scurried by him, all looking like they were anticipating something to pop out of the shadows and rob them. He lowered his voice, “Why are we going there?” 

Narcissa ignored her son and popped into Flourish and Blotts, taking out the list of Draco’s school list of new books to buy. Draco shook his head.  

“Is that my school letter?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Narcissa muttered under her breath, “Seems like I need the advance editions for potions, charms, transfiguration, and astronom- No runes, Draco? I thought you loved runes.” 

His mother gave him an expectant look while he craned over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the list he didn’t know had arrived.  

She turned back to the shop keeper who was jotting down her order, “And NEWT levels for the rest of his sixth year courses, thank you.” 

Draco snatched the letter from his mother’s hand and looked over it once. The shopkeeper was still scribbling something on a notepad, smiling politely at her request. 

“You have my letter?” Draco asked, and his mother gasped, clasping her hands together. 

 “Oh! Danforth! Can you please add on to the order? Draco will need a new quill and ink set and a new planner, Draco will be quite busy this coming year.” Narcissa threw on her best smile at the old wizard who finally stepped away to grab their things.  

“Mum?” Draco asked once more. She turned to their Houseelf, Saldorph, and handed him a punch full of galleons. 

“Pay the nice man when he retrieves all of the books,” Narcissa ordered, “And take them immediately to Draco’s quarters. He'll need to finish up packing his school truck by tonight.” 

Saldorph bowed.  

“And when you return, please wait for us at Madam Malkin,” She instructed and once again, Narcissa managed to wiggle her way out of her son’s curious questions. He took off like a rocket and Draco almost had to jog to catch up to her.  

The clack of her heels were the only sound echoing down the empty Alley. Draco felt a strange sensation they despite the deserted streets, someone was watching them.  

“Mum!” Draco called out, “Why do we need to go there?” 

Draco eyed the entrance to Knockturn Alley, begging her to at least clue him in on what was going on. 

“We’re buying furniture,” She stated. 

“Furniture?” Draco repeated flatly.  

“Yes, that’s what I said. Furniture.” She gave him a stiff smile and trotted along. Draco groaned and followed behind once more.  

“And what is so special about this furniture, may I ask?” Draco sighed out and he immediately regretted asking. His mother pushed him up against the cobbled walls, pointing her finger at him as a fair warning. It wasn’t that Narcissa found an inhumane amount of strength to push her son that clearly outweighed her by nearly ninety pounds. It was that it was so sudden it caught Draco by surprise.  

“Stop questioning,” She hissed, “Learn to keep your mouth closed and allow those who know better to navigate you to the best of our abilities.” 

Draco snorted, “You think you and dad know better?” 

In one swift motion Draco bared his forearm at her, his Dark Mark still pink at the edges, “Is this really the best you managed to do when you’ve begged my professor to keep me out of this life?” 

There was the slap of guilt that radiated pain across Narcissa’s face and Draco took a shaky breath, surprised at his own outburst. Narcissa’s eyes filled with glossy tears that threatened to fall but never did, as if she willed them to stay in place.  

“You’re right,” She quietly said, and reached to his forearm, pulling down at the fabric to hide his mark, “We’ve done a poor job but I am trying, Draco.” 

“Trying to what?” He snapped again, “Break me? You think that Aunt Bellatrix and I have a grand ol’ time chatting up in my room?” 

Narcissa felt the pain radiate off his body and it made her sick. She was complicit in his torture, the same torture she didn’t want him to experience at all.  

“Tell me what is going on,” Draco glared, “If I am capable enough to carry out his orders then it is only logical to know what you are up to as well.” 

Narcissa gulped. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“So you think I’ll be able to fix a vanishing cabinet?” Draco repeated lowly as they exited Borgins and Burkes.  

She flashed a glare at her son, almost regretting spilling her entire plot to him.  

His mother scurried on ahead of him, while Draco trailed behind following her down the very deserted streets of the Alley. It was odd but Draco didn’t have time to take in his surroundings while his mother paced ahead of him.  

“No, I don’t believe it but He will be coming tomorrow night, Draco,” His mother hissed lowly, “And I refuse to cast any doubt on you.” 

“So you don’t think I can but you want me to tell him that I will?” Draco asked, stunned at the idea. 

“I need you to make him believe,” Narcissa stuck her chin up as she walked by a few witches who scurried on inside a broom shop.  

“It will buy us time,” She finally breathed out, once the streets were empty again. She paused, midstep, to observe her towering son. He felt bleak to her, like he had lost hope and it tugged on her heartstrings. But there was an overwhelming relief that at least he didn’t feel like the eruption of first love when he first arrived. Narcissa wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was Mildred Clearwater that was the source of that dormant passion that radiated off of Draco.  

There were other concerns to worry over. Narcissa had placed her full confidence in her sister to train her son, only to come to the conclusion that Bellatrix had grossly exaggerated his progress. It made her see red sensing the lies in her sister's reports. Narcissa wouldn't have to always be scheming if everyone around her would just be honest with her, that way, she wouldn't have to take such drastic measures.

“If you succeed tomorrow, you’ll be able to buy us more time so we can figure something out. An escape, hopefully.” 

Draco pulled his mother back, towering over her slimming frame. She had not been well these past two months.  

“Escape?” Draco asked, “Just you and I?” 

Narcissa shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line.  

“You’d leave father behind?” Draco asked incredulously.  

She sniffed, “Draco, he’ll kill us all when you fail.” 

“So you’d leave him?” Draco scoffed, “Your husband?” 

Her face broke in shame and she shook her head, “If I could figure out a way to save your father, please the Dark Lord, and still have your soul intact and whole, I would. I would give myself up a million times over so you wouldn’t have to make this decision.” 

Her face twisted.  

The foolish glimmer of hope, the one that helped Draco stay sane the entire summer, pulled at his heartstrings.  

“And if I found a way?” Draco proposed.  

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” She sniffed, “I can barely see us making it out alive when the Dark Lord has your father by the balls and he wants you to...” 

She let out a sarcastic dry laugh. 

“It’s honestly laughable,” She frowned, “The First Mission he gave you. You understand he’s is expecting you to fail, make a mockery of our family. An example.” 

It had been on the back of his mind, gnawing at the possibility of failure. The confirmation of his mother certainly made him wish he could have worked a bit harder that summer. It’s not like he thought it was possible he could perform an Unforgivable Curse to the fullest capacity, but at least he would have been able to collaborate with his mother about a plan, her plan, so Draco wouldn’t feel so left out in the dark.  

“Promise me, mum,” Draco gulped, “Stop keeping secrets from me. This can only work if you tell me everything you’ve been working on. That way... maybe with buying time, we can have it all.” 

Draco’s eyes were full of hope and it destroyed Narcissa. She read him like an open book, the flourishing feelings of good and yearning for something better, to turn a new leaf in the family name that burden him so much.  

“You do realize that even if we succeed, we will not be accepted by either side once this is all over,” His mother whispered, gripping onto his arms, “There are some paths so far taken, it is impossible to correct. Succeed or fail, we are not safe.” 

“You’re not actually thinking about leaving? England?” Draco furrowed his brows, “Mum, we can’t run-” 

“Focus on what you need to accomplish tomorrow, Draco.” His mother cut in, “If you must pretend, then pretend. But do it with confidence so that no one would ever question or doubt-” 

She cut herself off mid thought. Narcissa’s head snapped to the left, down a very empty narrow alley. She narrowed her eyes as if she was facing an invisible foe. Draco remained confused as his mother stomp away again, leading them back to the main street of Diagon Alley, they were immediately greeted by the oddity of silly inviting music and a brightly colored shop. 

His mother dodged around the small crowd gathered around the spectacular storefront window where a few faces were pressed against, cheering at some magnificent display. 

A rather silly poster drew Draco attention from the corner of his eye. 

“Why are you worried about You-Know-Who?” Draco read his brow twitching up. There was plenty to worry about he thought, “You should be worried about You-No-Poo! The constipation sensation that’s gripping the nation.” 

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. 

He realized it was almost exactly a year ago when the twins had announced they had secured their shop.  

Draco felt the pull of a bittersweet smile when he remembered The Weasley’s and how lovely they had been in welcoming him in last summer (with a few bumps in the road, of course). Even his departure of Grimmauld was met with their rambunctious and sweet goodbyes. 

There was an innate need in Draco to celebrate with them and show his support.  

He was proud of them. Draco didn’t know that many successful entrepreneurs and he only knew of two that were eighteen years old.  

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was the only shop on the strip that was lively and bustling with customers.  

And that’s when Draco saw a split second of her.   

Almost like a hallucination through the windows of the shop, her chocolate brown eyes darting around the fanciful inventions of the twins.  

Her mouth broke into a grin and she simply looked angelic.  

Hermione. 

Draco’s insides hollowed out and his grin wore off. It hit him like the full weight of a dragon sitting on his chest. 

He hadn’t bother to write to her over the simple fact that he was surviving. In fact, that one single letter he had prepared before his Sixteenth Reception was still tucked away at his desk, unsent.  

His chin puckered battling his heart who fought against him.  

Draco squeezed his heart, calming it down from the cries of the tender pain of realizing he couldn’t have her, not after everything that has occurred to him. He had the opportunity to grow closer over the summer but Draco faced a new road and new focus.  

His parents had condemned him, Draco was aware. They weren’t his favorite people at the moment but to ensure his survival he needed to make sure they stay alive as well.  

The Dark Mark on his arm reminded him of that. A wave of dull shallow pain pulsed at his head from the stress of everything. He needed to keep it secret. The shame associated with being unable to run away from generational expectations was something he didn’t want any of his friends to know.  

They’d call him weak.  

They’d probably wouldn’t understand why he didn’t stand up to Voldemort and refuse to work with him. That was the brave thing to do. That was something someone would have done if they were worthy of Hermione. 

Hermione wouldn’t want anything to do with him if she discovered the truth.  

And she will, eventually.  

Succeed or fail, it was inevitable that Hermione will learn the truth of Draco’s ties with Voldemort and the task he was meant to execute. She wouldn’t want him then.  

How can she when Draco now stood aligned with someone actively looked down upon muggleborns like her? 

Draco ripped his eyes off her, blinking rapidly at the empty sensation of the hole in his chest.  

He’d have to mind his business this next year. Draco needed to focus anyways. His mother was right. He’d need to buy time somehow to dig himself out of the hole he was pushed into.  

No friends.  

No Hermione. 

His mind was set (he hoped).  

“Darling?” Narcissa called out. 

Draco rushed back to trail his mother who hadn’t noticed Draco fall behind for the two seconds he was staring at Hermione. She had been talking a mile a minute and scanning around like a security guard until she noticed her son was not directly behind her.  

He rushed over. 

“I’ll have the Houseelves burn some of those atrocious muggle clothes you have.” His mother ranted on, “I’m so glad Madam Malkin was able to redo your measurements, I didn’t think you’d grow another inch within da-” 

His mother paused, her head snapping over to her shoulder. She stilled and listened, straining her hearing to listen out for soft footsteps. 

“What is it?” Draco asked. 

His mother turned to him, swooping an analytical glance over him, “Nothing. Anyways, no need to fret over your old clothes. They do you no favors.” 

Draco heard his mother mention it to Madam Malkin over and over again how much weight he had gained over the summer once they were in the shop. 

What Madam Malkin hadn’t realized until they showed up for fittings was that the weight was muscle sculpting his frame, broadening him out and filling areas where limber was no longer an accurate description of him.  

Madam Malkin had to correct a few numbers in her records to adjust.  

“I should have been more aware,” Madam Malkin chuckled, “Sixteen is usually when boys have their growth spurt. I just had a very busy month with students coming in with shoe adjustments. Had to send them to my husband, he’s much handier with dragon leather.” 

Madam Malkin began to hand their houseelf, Seldorph, garment bag after garment bag stuffed with new clothes. 

“Please feel free to pop in with more of Draco’s old wardrobe,” Madam Malkin smiled, “I can fix light wear and tear of his garments. Anything he’s severely outgrown... like his clothes from first year, I’m more than happy to talk those off your hands, there are always less fortunate people who need the second hand option.” 

His mother withheld her sneer. 

“Surely,” Narcissa smiled, “Is this all his clothes?” 

Madam Malkin perked up but waved her boney finger at them, “Oh, no no no. I have his new school robes in the back he needs to try on first. I’m not sure if the shoulders will fit. Draco really did fill out this summer didn’t he? You must be worried Narcissa, he’ll be fighting off girls by the dozen.” 

Madam Malkin let out a teasing chuckle and disappeared into the back, leaving Draco in a very awkward moment with his mother.  

They stood in silence for a moment before Narcissa spoke up again.  

“Speaking of girls...” His mother let out a nonchalant lengthy sigh, “What was it again? The reason you broke up with that Mildred girl?”  

She flickered her dark eyes at him. It took Draco a second to recover from the suddenness of that surprising question, standing in front of the shop mirror, smoothing over a new green school vest that was much more brilliant in color than the one he wore that belonged to Goyle. 

Draco was stunned to realize his mom knew of Mildred when he never mentioned it to her. When could he really? He was holed up in his room with his insane aunt most of the summer and when he wasn’t he was out trying to escape her.  

“You received an owl. She returned the bracelet you gifted her,” She gave him a stern look. 

Draco gulped, “Right. She was, erm- not who I thought she was...”  

It was the truth but in no way did he want to leave the impression that he wanted to speak on his love life with his mother. 

“Well said,” His mother cleared her throat, “Lovely family, but peculiar daughter. Minister... At least she honorable enough to realize something like that didn’t belong to her. Terrible that she sent our precious family jewelry in a paper package. She couldn’t have used a cushioned box?” 

Madam Malkin returned with five new school robes, “Here they are! Ready to try them on, my dear?” 

Draco smiled politely to the seamstress and she quickly unhooked a robe to help him slip his arms into. Draco wiggle his shoulders around to find the fit settle nicely on his stature, glancing at the large floor length mirror by the window.  

“Perfect,” Narcissa crossed her arms in satisfaction. She approached Madam Malkin and handed her a pin to which she gasped and beamed up at Draco.  

“Oh, well, I didn’t know!” Madam Malkin gasped, wobbling over to pin a badge on Draco’s chest, “Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy!” 

Draco watched his mother for a second. She had a pleased disposition but didn’t dare look directly at him. He casted his sight back to the mirror and his heart dropped.  

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Draco had enough of lessons. He heard his Aunt Bellatrix storming over to his room later on that night and Draco simply wanted a single night of respite.  

Even if he would be facing Voldemort sometime the next day, Draco yearned for a peaceful night. Perhaps he would even find tomorrow’s encounter better to face. 

It had all happened too fast. Draco found the handle of his broom in his hand while the other hand was pushing the windows wide open. 

He thrusted into the air, in glorious flight, rocketing out of his room and straight into the rolling meadows of Wilshire. The sun was setting low in the horizon and outstretched in front of Draco was simply an expansive eternity.  

He could run away.  

He could just leave his family and have them fend for themselves and figure out the mistakes that were not his to fix.  

It was not his fault his father had selfishly joined Voldemort in the first war. Nor was it Draco doing that his father denounced having anything to do with him. Draco might have been working against his parents to correct the way he was brought up but none of it excused the series of events that led his father to offer his only son to Voldemort.  

The sun sunk low in the sky staining the sky into a burst of deep red and shades of brilliant orange and pinky purples. Draco sighed, his broom slowing.  

His breathing slowed as well, shifting through his memory of the shittiest summers he had ever had. He almost thought it strange how he thought being dropped off at Snape’s for the summer was the worst.  

Now Draco wished he could have savored those summers a bit more. It was the only thing he hung on to to keep him from going insane.  

The first time on a muggle bike.  

Finding Aster, Snapes faithful dog. 

His first movie.  

Finding comfort in the tiny room Snape had set up for him.  

Then his mind drifted to the most bittersweet times of laughing with Ron and Ginny over a plate of warm roast Mrs. Weasley made. He’d do anything for a bite of her food at the moment.  

Sirius Black who was like a cool older brother, recounting tales of his youth and his belly laughs that echoed throughout Grimmauld Place. It once inspired Draco to want to get a motorbike of his own to learn how to ride.  

And then of course was Hermione, who spent countless nights up in the attic with him, sharing her ideas and music and... 

Draco hated his father.  

But he couldn’t quite find it in his heart to abandon him in Azkaban. He didn’t want to care. He never had the best relationship with his father anyways but despite that, Draco couldn’t abandon them. If his mother had been trying and, still trying, to get him out of this ordeal, then there must be some way.  

If there was hope in her heart, then surely Draco could figure out a way to have it all.  

Flashes of Lucius’ own way of correcting his own mistakes filled Draco’s head. 

“My Lord.” Lucius’s voice wavered, throwing himself on his knees, “Anything. You can have anything you want. My money. Resources. My life. But not my son. I beg you. Not for that task.” 

“Beg?” Lord Voldemort’s sinister eyes flared in amusement, “What authority do you stand on asking me to not take what is needed? He is the perfect person for this role.” 

“Please-” 

“I gave you two,” Voldemort held up two long skinny fingers, “Two simple, easy opportunities to prove yourself to me. You lost me my diary!” 

“I didn’t know!” 

“AND YOU LOST ME MY PROPHECY!” Voldemort raised his voice, “I knew you were inept, Lucius, but stupid? You couldn’t possibly think that there would be no consequences to your failures.” 

His father bowed his head, hiding his broken expression.  

“It’s either I kill you all, or,” Voldemort mouth flickered into a sickening smile, “Have your dearest Draco be the man to save the last of your family. And what an honor it is to have the last remaining bloodline defend their honor to keep the Malfoy name alive. Isn’t it, Draco? 

Draco nodded, unwillingly bearing the full weight of his parent's decisions. 

The night fall pulled its dark inky covers over the sky. Draco idly floated low over a thicket of lush weeping willows. He hopped off his broom as soon as the ground was securely below him. He placed the broom against the thick trunk of a tree and then he sprawled out in the middle of some tall soft grass, watching the sky morph darker and darker until the stars began to appear.  

He didn’t want to think more of his father for he had hated him for so long for being a coward. It killed him with the recent revelations, it didn’t dismiss Lucius, but it humanized him and that hate Draco had for him was harder to grasp on to.  

He didn’t have the energy.  

He was meant to be another mediocre Deatheater in the history books.  

‘Kill Dumbledore’.  

The order was obvious. It was the convincing that he was capable to Voldemort that had Draco worried.   

The Killing Curse was out of the question and the more Draco pondered the more he lost himself in the great mystery of how he was going to even accomplish half of what was being required of him. Draco didn’t even want to go down the path of wondering what would happen if he didn’t impress Voldemort tomorrow. 

“Buy time,” His mother’s voice filled his head. She had already done the planning of accomplishing the feat and his aunt, well, she had attempted to train him sufficiently enough to be a worthy fighter for Voldemort. It was Draco who hadn’t put forth anything of note to help his family out. 

A small pop next to Draco warned him that he was no longer alone.  

He closed his eyes shut and waited for his peace to be disturbed. The wait was long drawn out.  

Draco groaned.  

“Yes, Sephina?” His eyes fluttered opened once more, taking in the first constellation of the night. It swirled and twisted in his imagination as the constellation Draco appeared high in the early summer night.  

A distance memory tore at his heart.  

Sephina’s voice came out as a whisper as if she was afraid that someone was listening in.  

“Master Malfoy,” She called out, “When will you return? You still need to pack-” 

“Never,” Draco half joked.  

Sephina squeaked in surprise. Draco grinned lazily at her reaction. 

“Would you?” He asked, “After you’ve seen what I’ve been through this summer. What I’ve done. Would you return?” 

Sephina winced, rubbing her tiny hands together, but she didn’t answer.  

“Why do you stay Sephina?” Draco asked, “You’ve been freed.” 

“For you, Master Malfoy,” She squeaked, “You’ve asked and you have been kind and honorable-” 

Draco snorted, “I can’t agree.” 

After all, between him and Bellatrix, the Houseelves have been beaten up pretty badly over the summer. And yet, even after witnessing all of their abuse, Sephina faithfully remained at his side. 

She would have surely warned Draco of what was to come once he returned. She had always been on the look out for him. It only cemented the fact that Voldemort’s plan was conveniently rushed to punish his family.  

Voldemort would only benefit from having Dumbledore out of the way, but why do it himself when he could have the Malfoy’s do it? It'll kill perhaps three birds with one stone if it was all done according to his plan.

Draco groaned about the following day, groaned about his life, and groaned that he couldn’t find his way out of it. 

He needed a clever way to deceive, buy time, anything to help him figure this problem out. Maybe he could make his mother go into hiding but... his father. He wouldn’t be released until Draco completed his mission.  

A mission that no one had any faith in him.  

Draco lifted himself by his elbows, propping his upper body to face Sephina.  

“Master? I have... an idea.” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Draco stood with his shoulders back chin slightly up, (as much as he could at least), in the presence of the Dark Lord.  

It was the same circle of cloaked figures, watching Draco step into the circle while Voldemort took the first few steps of their grand staircase.  

“Draco,” Voldemort breathed out, souring the air around him. Draco heard his breath, “It is good to see you. Your Aunt, Bellatrix, has told me about all the work you have done over the summer.” 

Bellatrix, who was known for her cocky confidence, remained quiet watching her nephew in suspense. 

“I owe a great deal to her,” Draco gulped down the sick. The more he stared at Voldemort the more Draco wondered how it was possible that anyone could serve someone as grotesque as him.

“You have prepared something for me? For your Trial of Worth?” Voldemort airily asked, toying with his prey. Narcissa’s knuckles turned white as her hands gripped on to themselves.  

“A plan, several, actually” Draco gave a single nod, “Although I will not take credit for the ideas, I will assure that I have plenty of backups, should one fail.” 

Voldemort chortled an ear scratching laugh. It sent shivers down Draco’s back, “Surely, Dumbledore will notice multiple attempts at his life. You only need one.” 

“I do, a strong one at that,” Draco nodded, “However, it will take time.” 

Voldemort’s amused face fell, the darkness taking over his distorted features.  

“Time?” Voldemort repeated, a frown pulling at his thin skin.  

“I am well aware that as a new student of the unforgivable curses, I still need time to perfect them,” Draco stopped himself from chewing on his lip, “In order to ensure my curses will be as effective as it can be, Dumbledore needs to be weakened... gradually.” 

Bellatrix and Narcissa exchanged surprised looks as Draco repeated Narcissa plan as eloquently as he could. It was a rather bold admission to include Draco’s weaknesses but hiding behind bold overly decorated proclamations would not do Draco any good.  

Voldemort would see right through Draco if he promised like his father did. He used the finesse of his mother.   

“I know you seek only the strongest fighters,” Draco inhaled and immediately regretted it. His face twisted a tiny bit in nausea, “But I do not shy away from my weaknesses. If I ignore the areas in which I lack, I will be shooting arrows in the dark. Like you said, multiple attempts would be foolish.” 

Voldemort listened to Draco as he explained with a flourish of confidence what his proposal was to secure the aid he needed if Dumbledore were to fall. If Draco was expected to kill the beloved headmaster, he needed the escape and he needed the aid of someone on the other side of the cabinet to ensure the bridge was repaired. Voldemort did not like the answer but could not reasonably argue with Draco’s proposal. He whipped around to Bellatrix, his slim jaw firm.  

“Well, what can this boy do then?” Voldemort snapped, “Vanishing cabinets or not, he still hasn’t proved if he can harm.” 

Bellatrix jumped and bowed at him, she then turned around to shout into a dark corridor and Draco fixated on the three small figures that cautiously stepped in. His calm his racing heart, reminding him that this was all part of his big ruse. 

A line of three petrified houseelves filed in, Sephina being one of them. Draco’s eyes darted to his Voldemort who looked amused with the selection of creatures. The hint of distaste of anything below himself was etched into his face. 

Draco did a double check on his mental barriers that felt as thick as the rumored walls of Azkaban. His mind still remained the only part of him that was untouched by Voldemort. Draco thanked Snape for giving him the sense of security. 

“Show me,” Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Draco gulped. He lifted his wand arm, holding the cool handle of the obsidian of his wand.  

“Imper-” 

“No,” Voldemort cut in before Draco could finish his wand movement, “You know the one.” 

Draco paused, “I believe, then, you’re not interested in seeing the Cruciatus curse?” 

Voldemort gave him a wicked smile.  

“Go on,” He encouraged, gesturing to the three houseelves awaiting their fate, “Pick one.” 

Draco’s breath hitched up into his throat, when his eyes settled on Sephina. Tears threatened to prick at his eyes when she realized he was pointing the wand at her. The other two elves took a tentative step away from Sephina, wanting to be as far as possible from the blast of the incoming curse. 

“Master-” 

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”  

Sephina was hit by a blinding light of green and her body tumbled back with the force of the spell. The other two houseelves hunched over in fear, shaking. His mother jumped to her feet, petrified fear painted her features, as she peered over Sephina’s limp body. 

“Is it-” 

The other two Houseelves cried softly next to them and Voldemort forced a smile of delight, “They weep for their own. Well done, Draco.” 

The visit soon concluded after that with a stern warning that he expected updates. 

Draco wasn’t sure if he impressed Voldemort or not but he was somewhat glad for Voldemort’s visit. It certainly instilled that fear back in him that if he failed, he’d cost his family their lives.  

As well as his.  

But it also reminded him of one glorious person that would be able to help Draco untangle the web of secrecy he had tangled himself in.  

Dumbledore. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

There was an eruption of whispers and stolen glances before people out right stared when the sea of witches and wizards parted to give way to two people. 

Mouths parted in surprised once the realization sunk in of exactly who they had been staring at.  

A whirlwind of confirming nods and raised brows when the topic of Azkaban was brought up but no one quite dared to step over to Draco and his mum as they strutted down Platform 9¾.  

A blistering heat wave didn’t seem to faze Draco who was dressed up to his neck with the finest clothes his mother got him from Madam Malkin’s.  

“Pay them no mind,” His mother whispered out to him, stopping at the nearest train cart. She intended to still display their dominance in their social circles by not hiding away, however, Narcissa desperately wanted to get this drop off over with. 

She inspected Draco once more. 

There was something rather mature about his now tanned cheeks and golden blonde hair. It was all the sun he had received despite the terrible summer he had. Draco did spend an awful lot of time working out punishments outside in the middle of the day, shirtless, while Bellatrix yelled at him from the second floor terrace.  

Draco sighed, “I despise the attention.” 

Narcissa shrugged, sensing that intense privacy that her son always craved. Surely having his family business blasted all over their news articles was nothing but uncomfortable for Draco.  

“Have them speak of other things then,” Narcissa strained a smile, “Control the narrative if it bothers you so much.”  

Draco knew what she meant. Despite his father staining their reputation, Draco could work hard on achieving other great things like academic pursuits or being awarded captain of the team. He could go against his family and erase his father’s legacy and just be kind. 

But then he reminded himself that if he was required to kill Dumbledore and when the time comes of that coming out, he wasn’t sure if the effort was worth it.  

Draco was aware that the cause of this unwanted attention was because of his father’s imprisonment but a slight doubt was casted when a few raised brows and playful smirks were thrown his way.  

“You know the deal, Draco,” His mother said to catch his attention. 

“Write every month,” He nodded, eyeing a squad of guards now at every entrance of the train carts, inspecting every single student who boarded. He was aware that security will be tightened this year, perhaps even more than when Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban three years ago.  

“Do not worry about any school inspections,” Narcissa quietly said, eyeing the same guards, “Snape will help you.” 

Draco closed his eyes tenderly, “Don’t tell me you’ve told him.” 

“Of course I did,” She hissed out, reaching out to his collar to adjust properly, “Otherwise how else would you be able to smuggle in the things you need. You think just because you wrapped that necklace and the laced mead in twenty layers of your clothes that they wouldn’t be able to fish it out?”  

Narcissa scoffed, “Not to mention our family spell book wouldn’t even be considered to be included in the restricted section at the library.” 

A vein in Draco’s neck veins bulged when his jaw firmed. He had to watch his mother go through his things last night to ensure he had packed all the most necessary items to carry out Voldemort's will.

“I told you,” Draco leaned in, scanning his gaze over his mother’s head, “I’ve got this. I don’t need any more of your help.” 

Draco stood firmly as his mother kissed his cheek, a throb of a headache began to pulse at his temples. 

She stared at him, “Everything is fine as far as your friends are concerned, you understand?” 

Draco’s brows hitched up, “Friends? You think I should still have friends?” 

Narcissa frowned, “You think no one will question if you suddenly dropped everything and everyone you spoke to? What part of convincing did you not understand? In order to fool one of the greatest wizards, you must fool everyone else.” 

It went against what Draco had originally planned. He thought if he cleared out all his friends, he’d be able to go under the radar and have the time to focus on the phases of this plan... on top of handling his academic life which was now a load comparable to his fifth year. 

A budding hope of actually still being able to talk to friends sprouted in him.  

“I- I suppose you’re right,” Draco gulped, feeling lighter at the prospect that he didn’t have to give up his friends... well at least not immediately. He knew that there was a point that he may lose them all, but if he could figure out a way to avoid it.  

He could have it all.  

Without so much of a loving goodbye, Draco smiled at his mom and turned on his heel. He felt the headache take over his senses as he stomped towards the train, handing over his ticket to a guard. Irritation filled his head at the shouts and chatter around him, aggravating the assault of pain.

He immediately boarded, looking over his shoulder to give a farewell nod to his mother who waved at him, now tearfully. Guilt filled his mouth just as he fully boarded the train, hoping to find an escape to some peace and quiet. 

Truthfully Draco did need the help, just not from his mother. He had someone he trusted more to guide him. Like before, Draco was set on meeting Dumbledore this very night. If anyone in the Order could help him, it would be the most powerful wizard he knew. 

He wasn’t exactly planning on telling his mother that because it only threatened to reveal that he had Dumbledore’s advice on many other occasions. Draco wasn’t ready to tell that to his mother. 

Draco dodged a few first years who were running around, squealing and pressing their noses against the windows to wave at their parents. A few second and third years were showing off their new pets, blocking Draco’s path to finding an empty compartment. He glared at the group of three who immediately flattened themselves against the windows to allow him to pass. An owl squawked at him and he slipped by. 

He stalked by few compartments all filled with a mixture of houses of older year students. Draco could have easily picked any one of them and blended seamlessly now that he was away from the guidance of his mother, but he preferred to be alone.  

That damn headache was definitely something he was going to complain to Snape about, in hopes he could concoct a potion for him. It wasn’t like Draco had the liberties of strolling into the Hospital Wing with a Dark Mark tattooed on his forearm now. 

Crabbe and Goyle didn’t noticed Draco as he walked by. How could they when they were immersed in a riveting story told by Neville and Luna? 

Ron and Daphne were cooped up with another couple, a startling one at that. Blaise Zabini had his arm around Mildred Clearwater, who was cautiously regarding a couple she never thought she’d have to mingle with. 

Draco then bumped into Ginny who was in the middle of snogging Dean Thomas right in the middle of the walkway. Draco cleared his throat at the couple, raising his brow at the red headed girl. Ginny huffed and pushed up against the wall to give way to Draco who was increasingly annoyed at the amount of couples he had seen.  

It took Ginny a full second to recognize who interrupted her snogging. 

“Busy this summer cousin?” Ginny shouted at him. Her voice pierced Draco's head, wincing at the way it rung back and forth. 

Draco ignored her, finally finding an empty compartment for himself. He waved his wand at the door to lock it and blocked out any noise from the outside so he could rest his throbbing head. With legs outstretched, bridging over to the seat across him, Draco crossed his arms and rested his head back to close his eyes.  

He sat there, breathing, his eyes peacefully closed and unaware that girls would walk by him and peer into this compartment for a bit too long to consider it glancing. They’d rush off giggling as they gossiped to anyone that was willing to listen how Draco Malfoy was now a certified Adonis.  

Word spread, igniting the flames of the rumor mill that had lain dormant for the summer. Yes, Voldemort was back and the whispers of disappearances was chilling but the sight of a beefed-up student certainly alleviated the somber mood.  

Word of Draco Malfoy’s summer transformation reached the very compartment where Hermione was scanning through a book she had Tonks help her with.  

Tome of the Forgotten: The Soul’s Library of Memories by Hershel Manas 

Perhaps diving into memory retrieval was her only way to make sense of Draco’s silence over the last months. She had concluded a thousand different scenarios but only one really gnawed at her heart.  

Maybe he found a way to remember what happened at the Ministry before Hermione and truly didn’t want anything to do with her. 

Or maybe, he didn’t really like her much at all.  

Both twisted Hermione’s insides into knots. 

It had been an extremely long summer for Hermione. She promised herself to keep tabs on the news as well as juggle any kind of information on memory retrieval and muggle math. The only thing that kept her long summer days going was hoping that tomorrow was the day she’d receive a letter from Draco.  

And it never came. 

“You know there are plenty of reason he probably didn’t answer. What if he was out of the country?” Hermione suddenly shared another probability that Draco hadn’t received her letters directly, “I only have one address to send letters to.” 

Harry flashed his green eyes at her, in absolute complete boredom from hearing Hermione speculate all morning, “Hermione, even if that were true, he has your address. He could have easily given you the heads up. Plus, Mr. Weasley said that the Order has been keeping a close eye on his family due to suspicious activity. None of them left the Manor.” 

Hermione knew that. She knew she should accept defeat but speculating foolishly felt a lot better than facing reality. She couldn’t even imagine bumping into Draco and the suspense was itching at her chest.  

What should she even say to him? Would it be awkward to bring up the fact that he never wrote? 

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear, now loose voluminous curls she had pulled her hair into. 

Ginny, Daphne and Hermione spent the last week of summer together and during late nights, they poured over Witch Weekly articles on how to improve one’s appearance.  

Daphne insisted that Hermione needed to let out hair out of her braid she consistently wore last year. Ginny pulled on one of Hermione’s curls and was surprised that it reached her hip before it sprung back up to the middle of her back. 

They spent a considerable amount of time doing each other’s hair and make-up, giggling into the early hours of the morning just chatting away.  

The result was now rosy cheeks and a slightly freckled nose on Hermione while her face was framed with long tresses of glossy loose curls. She had the urge to tie it all back in a pony tail but Ginny warned her not to.  

“Make him regret not writing back at all,” Ginny advised before she skipped off to find her new boyfriend Dean.  

Harry didn’t say much on the girls’ transformation. Ron on the other hand was completely smitten when Daphne lost her trademark head band and had a slightly more tussled look to her blonde hair. It also helped that her lips were slightly pinker, not by much, but Ron couldn’t help but to stare in awe wondering what spell Daphne had put him under.  

Hermione glanced out the window, squinting to see if she could spot Draco coming. She had been mentally preparing herself to catch the first glimpse of him. 

Daphne had coached her on the car ride over to King’s Cross equally annoyed with Draco as Hermione was. She instructed her good friend to not give him much of a response.  

“Be aloof,” Daphne reminded her when they boarded the train, “And don’t you dare give him those puppy dog eyes whenever you think about him. He doesn’t deserve to hear about your amazing summer. He should have already known about it if he read your letters.” 

“And what if he didn’t! And I do not look like... that,” Hermione argued back.  

“You kind of do,” Ron chided, “You kind of freaked out when Harry said he saw him at Diagon Alley, remember Daph?” 

Daphne chewed on her bottom lip trying to hide an unforgiving grin recalling howHermione had begged Ginny to use her mirror to double check herself before she ran out of the Twin’s shop to join Harry on his pursuit. She was only able to catch a glimpse of Draco' back side from afar before he flooed away. 

Ron and Daphne hadn’t stuck around after boarding the train.

They left for their own compartment, sensing Harry’s ruddy mood. Hermione promptly volunteered to pair herself up with Harry who preferred the silence. Hermione endured it only because she needed the space to calm her anxiety. All of her friends had been lightly teasing her for the past days, surely her anticipation wasn’t that noticeable, was it? 

The pair sat there waiting for the train to depart while Hermione scanned over the Daily Prophet. 

The newspaper popped open with the flick of Hermione’s wrist when she opened it right in the middle. Her eyes scanned over the first few articles before settling on a name she knew very well. 

“He was sentenced to serve ten years in Azkaban,” Hermione said with a guffaw. Harry gave her a side glance and sighed.  

Harry sighed, “Can you talk about something other than Malfoy? You’ve been obsessing about him all summer.” 

Hermione frowned, abandoning the newspaper and crossing her arms. 

“I have not.”  

Harry closed his eyes and let out another deep sigh, “I’m telling you Hermione, you’re barking up the wrong tree this time. At Diagon Alley... he was plotting something.” 

Every time Harry used that line, Hermione would perk up. 

The switch of suspicion that Harry had on Draco certainly concerned her but she couldn’t quite let herself to blindly believe Harry.  

“But you said that St. Mungos...” Hermione gulped, “You said he helped fight. He wouldn’t just turn around and betray us like that.” 

Harry scoffed, “He would, especially since his father is now jailed for ten years, according to you.” 

It didn’t escape Hermione’s extraneous attention to detail. Harry, after spending nearly every weekend at St. Mungo’s, was able to recover his memory.  

So it was possible.  

Hermione had to push herself back into her seat, after wiggling herself up to the edge in anticipation, Daily Prophet and memory book now abandoned. She wanted to ask Harry what he had taken, what enchantments why had used on him but it wasn’t the right time. 

Harry wasn’t annoyed with her or anything. He looked grief stricken from the death of his godfather. Hermione gathered that Harry actually witnessed the event and surely, that couldn’t be a pleasant thing to be forced to remember.  

Nevertheless, Hermione couldn’t help herself. She held out her encouraging hand and placed it on his knee. 

“If you want to talk about it-” 

“That’s just it, Hermione. I don’t,” Harry cleared his throat, “I don’t want to t talk about anything. I need to walk, get some air...” 

Before Hermione knew it, Harry rushed out leaving her cringing in regret.  

Hermione’s solitude only lasted a second before the atmosphere completely changed when Ginny tumbled in, along with Lavender Brown, Pansy Parkinson, and Cho Chang all giggling amongst themselves.  

Ginny looked positively lethal, her lids lowered at Hermione with a devilish smirk on her face. She crossed her thin arms smugly at Hermione and crossed her lengthy legs as if she held a giant secret over Hermione’s head.  

With a look like that, Hermione didn’t doubt Ginny came across some interesting tidbit.  

Hermione thought Ginny flourished over the summer she looked rather statuesque and striking in appearance once she lost the baby fat in her face. As for Hermione, well, she grew too. She had to buy a whole lot of new set of uniforms due to the fact that her hips widened just a tad bit more and her shirts were now tugging at the armpits and the buttons across her chest.  

“Please tell me you’ve seen Draco,” Ginny gasped, watching Hermione like a hawk as she plopped down in front of her. The mention of his name pulled at her insides.  

Lavender Brown let out a scoff, a wicked smile played on her lips, sitting next to Ginny, “Merlin have mercy, is he looking fit. Isn’t he Pansy?” 

Hermione’s face fell, the sensation of feeling oblivious filled her upon seeing the way the girls exchanged looks. Her lids fought back the sting of tears that irritated the rims of her eyes. The reminder of his silence hit her hard.  

She foolishly thought that Draco would have been more proactive in responding to her letters. He promised after all. It was impossible to think he didn’t have a spare five minutes of free time to write back. 

Cho smiled, affirming the truth, “I believe he’s about three inches taller than before.” 

Pansy crossed her arms, “And clearly he’s been working out.” 

Hermione blinked. Draco taller? 

“Parvati said she was going to try to talk to him,” Lavender announced, which caused Pansy to scoff. 

“If he’s sulking in a compartment alone, then he clearly doesn’t want to be bothered,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “Trust me. I know.” 

Hermione frowned. Wait. How would Pansy know? 

“Parvati is going to be rejected even before she can open her mouth,” Pansy nodded confidently, “And let me say, that boy does like his mouths.” 

Ginny winced upon hearing more details than she deemed necessary about someone she considered now close as family. 

Lavender gasped, “How do you know?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes up and shrugged. Cho blinked her wide eyes at Hermione who began to deflate when the history of Draco was unexpectedly thrusted upon her.  

“Early sexual experiences are more common that one thinks, I’ve heard,” Cho cleared her throat, “Especially in males. I believe it’s the curiosity of it. It’s nothing too serious at that age.” 

Ginny snorted, “Girls can be equally as curious!” 

Lavender stretched her arms out as if to announce something rather important, “And I am VERY curious about Malfoy. Is it true?” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Ginny groaned, covering her ears in hopes she could distract herself from learning more about Draco. 

“Well,” Pansy clicked her tongue, sighing as if it were such a long time ago, “We did snog a lot our first and second year. Third Year not so much since we took a break, but there was a lot of grinding, that’s for sure. Fourth year was interesting...” 

Hermione’s heart braced for a sharp slash at her heart.  

“Wait,” Lavender gasped, “Is that why you were expecting Draco to ask you to the Yule Ball?” 

Pansy crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air, “Well naturally, when you’ve been on and off with someone, I assumed that it would be the night we... you know.” 

“Oh god!” Ginny inwardly groaned. 

“So you didn’t?” Cho blinked. Hermione gulped, hopeful when Pansy shook her head.  

“Nope,” Pansy corrected, “But like I said, there had been a lot of grinding and fooling around. What can I say? We were both curious and I stumbled upon how big it is and, yes, unfortunately it’s one of the things Millie didn’t grossly exaggerate last year.” 

“Eight inches?” Cho airily asked. Lavender sat up straighter in anticipation.  

Ginny caved into herself, experiencing a new wave of torture. She had strolled in with the intent to tease Hermione to warn her about the eyebrow raising changes. She was not expecting to be facing karma, roping Ginny in on the recounting of Draco’s personal details.  

Pansy hummed. “Well, I mean it was a lot to hold but he was the largest I’ve seen so far.” 

“So far?” Hermione said.  

Cho gaped at Pansy, “You’ve seen more?” 

Pansy let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes up playfully, “Maybe?” 

“WHO!” Ginny shouted, happy to get the topic off of Draco. 

“Well Warrington from the Quidditch team, then there was Seamus. He has pretty good energy. Oh and my current target is Harry.” Pansy counted off. Ginny made a face. 

“POTTER?” Lavender gasped, “You lie!” 

“I don’t!” Pansy rolled her eyes, “I promise I think it was the reason why I got decent scores on my OWLs last year. I liked studying with Harry and he’s fun to be around with. A little awkward but those make the best lays.” 

“You can tell?” Hermione blurted.  

Pansy who had been enthralled talking about her experiences turned to Hermione confused, “You can’t?” 

Ginny blinked and pouted, “I’m not sure if i can either, if I'm honest. I think Dean is sweet but we haven’t...” 

Pansy sat up straight, assuming the role of teacher and for the next hour Pansy divulged in all the ways to tell if someone was good in bed.  

“Ultimately, the best is when you like each other. Actually like each other.” Pansy shrugged, “I’m not sure if it’s happened to me but my older sister told me that. Technique can be good and playfulness can be great but when emotions are involved... She said it was just different.” 

Pansy chewed on her lip, “I think it’d be nice to sleep with someone who adored me.” 

Lavender’s hand was on her chest as if she was astonished by the wealth of information Pansy just told them. Cho looked slightly teary eyed and Ginny looked afflicted.  

“Oh,” Hermione breathed out and Lavender turned to her and perked up.  

“What about you Hermione?” Lavender asked, catching Hermione off guard, “How was Krum?” 

Krum? 

Hermione blinked back at her friends who stared at her hoping to get juicy details from a flame that felt like ages ago to Hermione. There was a tint of blush at her cheeks when she recollected a small memory of Krum during the end of summer, last year.  

Krum had been very much a gentleman, she thought. She nearly flung herself at him but it was nothing but a rather messy and passioned kiss that left a lingering want in Hermione. When Krum came to visit her months later, he pulled her away from the party at the Three Broomstick.  

They tried... technically.  

Hermione glanced at her watch, “Oh would you look at the time, Prefect Meeting! Cho?” 

Hermione cleared her throat, prompting Cho, another fellow Prefect, to join her as she stood up. Cho remained in place.  

“It’s not for another ten minutes,” Cho shook her head slowly. 

Lavender reach to cup her hands around Hermione’s wrist, “Please tell us! Don’t avoid the question!” 

Hermione gulped, shame creeping up her neck in waves of heat. 

Hermione grimaced, “He was... good?” 

Pansy’s eager face faltered, “Good?” 

Ginny fell back in her chair and crossed her arms, “You sure? Or are you covering for his fame sake.” 

Hermione glared at Ginny, the only person that got the full details of that night. There had been a lot of heavy petting but his earnest attempts to make Hermione feel good was a bit too heavy handed. Even when Krum was hovering over her, Hermione covering her bare chest with her arms in slight shame, he noticed how scared she was. 

Even when he was half way in. 

When Krum suggested to try again some other time Hermione quickly agreed, flying out of the bed and throwing her clothes back. That had not been what Krum had expected. He had followed her out, asking to stay. He promised they didn’t have to do anything, but to just stay.  

That’s when Hermione came across Draco and... 

“He’s...” Hermione began, “He’s quite eager with his fingers.” 

Lavender squealed, clapping her hands over her mouth, “Shut up. A pro quidditch player!” 

Pansy gave her a look of approval, “I’m impressed Granger.” 

Ginny scoffed, “Didn’t you said it wasn’t any good?” 

Hermione glared at her closest friend, “That’s not what I meant!” 

Pansy shrugged, “Makes sense.” 

Cho turned slowly Pansy “How so?” 

“The bigger the ego, the more they think they can get away with,” Pansy nodded, “It wouldn’t surprise me if Krum thought he could just lay there and do none of the work.” 

“Oh, look!” Lavender perked up, “It’s Parvati!” 

Lavender waved her friend in. Parvati stuck her head in her long beautiful braid slipped off her shoulder. Hermione took the time to excuse herself, exhausted with the wealth of news regarding the boy that had been on her heart and mind all summer. Hermione also didn't want to stand another second of another girl talking about Draco, in the case that Parvati was successful in her attempts.

Cho followed suit wanting to be a few minutes early for their Prefect meeting. 

Hermione and Cho quietly headed for the front of the train. Hermione shouldered on her school robe with her Prefect badge pinned on the front, half hearing Cho mention something about Head Boy and Head Girl this year. 

Hermione hooked her hand under the nape of her neck to scoop out her hair that was tucked under the robe traveling up cart after cart, humming in affirmation at Cho, not really listening in. 

They reached the large compartment just in time. There was already a handful of Prefects sitting around lightly chatter. Luckily, Hermione spotted two familiar faces in the midst of the crowd, smiling in relief at Daphne and Ron. Her heart knew it was only a matter of time before Draco would appear... that is if he accepted the role of Prefect again this year.  

Hermione took her seat next to Daphne. 

Ron sat back with his arm slouched around Daphne’s shoulders and her hand resting peacefully at his knee. Hermione had barely greeted her friends before Katie Bell handed her a sheet of parchment paper, outlining the year and duties they needed to assign.  

A lot of fifth years looked around scared of the unknown roles they needed to take upon themselves. While Hermione leaned over Ron to whisper over to Daphne about patrols dates they should take, a throat was cleared, grabbing everyone’s attention. 

At precisely noon, Katie Bell announced the start of the meeting and introduced herself as Head Girl to the group of Prefects, old and new. They politely clapped for her. Hermione, mid clap glanced around, noting two very obvious missing faces.  

It seemed like Katie also sense the absences, looking around in confusion, counting the number of students and glancing down at a list in her hand. Her hazel eyes flew over to the glass of the door and she smiled before announcing the first order of business. 

“Apologizes, we are still missing some people, I can see them coming down. First, I want to welcome everyone back for a new school year! And also, congratulations to-”  

The door flew open once more and Hermione’s nerves dropped into her core when two bodies tumbled in. There had been a fear that perhaps Draco and Millie had reconciled if they were coming in together. The thought brought a bitter itch at her chest but all those negative thoughts were destroyed the second Draco gently shoulder in, giving a regrettable look to the Katie. 

Theo poked his head from behind Draco. 

“Fuck,” Hermione mouthed out her whisper, closing her eyes at how annoyingly gorgeous Draco had become over the summer. It made something inside her core coil. Hearing all the gossip that morning about Draco and finally laying eyes upon him was quite the experience. 

Hermione can say her friends were under describing his looks.  

His face was more defined, loosing most of the fat in his face that made him look adorably boyish and charming. There was a swell on his chest, hinting at pecks and his crisp white shirt did a terrible job at concealing the shadows and contours of his well sculpted torso.  

Draco had been toned before, yes, but this was different.  

His skin was no longer pale but sun kissed. His hair was now a golden honeyed blond and it was combed away his face in a thick wavy style that suited him so much better. Even his clothes screamed in the wealth his family possessed. He looked like he walked straight out of a TV show as the lead.  

“Sorry we’re late.” Draco apologized, giving a half sheepish smile to Katie. 

And Hermione felt... feral.  

His voice had grown deeper and rung deep in her ear that made her want to twitch in response. She mentally cursed him out, almost livid that he had the audacity to look so good but blamed it on his tardiness if anyone asked why she looked disgusted.  

Thankfully no one did.  

Katie Bell smiled at the pair and introduced them.  

“I’d like to welcome Theodore Nott,” Katie Bell smiled, “As a Sixth Year Slytherin Prefect.”  

Hermione’s eyes flew up at the pair, as confused as everyone else.  

“And Draco Malfoy as this year’s Head Boy,” Katie grinned, her gleaming hazel eyes sliding up at down at her partner. 

Hermione’s heart dropped.