The Challenge
Appalled.
Revolted.
Those were the words for what he was currently witnessing in what should have been a private compartment of the Hogwarts Express as he stared incredulously at the sight before him.
Had they no class? No decorum.
It made him wonder why he even stayed friends with them both as he watched Blaise's hand brazenly traverse the inside of his ex-girlfriend's skirt. Pansy's face was nestled against his neck, her lips tracing the contours of his earlobe.
"Draco, if you don't put a stop to this, I swear I'll gouge my eyes out and yours for allowing them in our compartment," Nott stated nonchalantly. He still had his nose buried in a book, his legs crossed beside Malfoy and was not looking at the pair in front of them directly.
Malfoy was doing everything he could to avoid looking at them, but the sounds were distracting.
They were interrupting his brooding, his time to reflect on the stupidity that this year would bring. Another bloody year at Hogwarts? To make up for lost time, they'd said to him. To make amends, his father had urged. Amends for what: his stupidity, his family's relentless loyalty to a sick psychopath that had led to the downfall of their name.
What was the bloody fucking point?
Muttering, "Incendio Caligae," Malfoy watched as a wisp of smoke began to curl up from Blaise's shoe. It wasn't overly distracting until Pansy, sitting nearby, started sniffing the air, her nose wrinkling in confusion. She finally glanced down and her eyes widened in shock as she noticed her boyfriend's shoe smoldering with faint flames.
In a panic, Pansy let out a startled scream, leaped to her feet, and promptly grabbed her own coat to swat out the flames on Blaise's footwear.
Theo Nott, taking his nose out of his book, observed the scene with an amused grin and applauded Malfoy, saying, "Brilliant, mate."
Pouting, Pansy crossed her arms, her annoyance clear as she whined, "Do you two gits have any idea how much that coat was worth?"
Rolling his eyes at Pansy's materialistic concern, Malfoy turned away from the commotion and looked out of the window, resuming his brooding thoughts.
Another year at Hogwarts. At nineteen years old.
Pathetic.
This whole situation was pathetic, and he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of disillusionment as the train chugged along toward the castle.
"What's his bloody problem?" Blaise muttered to Theo as he quickly cast a spell to repair his charred footwear.
Theo let out a weary sigh, setting his book down beside him with exaggerated care. He regarded both Blaise and Pansy with a faux expression of concern, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Are you both daft? All of us in this compartment bear the mark that shows what our allegiances were in the war. A war we lost, may I add. And you both seem to think this year is going to be a walk in the park."
Malfoy, sitting in the corner, couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation. Finally, someone understood the gravity of their situation.
Pansy shot Malfoy a knowing look, silently pleading with him not to go off recklessly this year and risk everything for the rest of them. However, he met her gaze with a clenched fist, the hand bearing the dreaded mark that still burned and itched on his skin. He turned away from her, feeling a profound sense of detachment.
She didn't know him anymore. Their relationship had ended before he had even turned sixteen, and she had no idea what he had been through since then. Pansy had been a Death Eater for a mere six weeks before the Battle of Hogwarts, and before that, she had spent a short time at Hogwarts with Blaise.
As for Blaise, he had been a Death Eater for less than four months.
They didn't know anything.
But Theo, Theo understood.
Malfoy had just turned sixteen when he had taken the mark and was required to start training that summer. Theo had taken the mark during the Holiday season of that same school year.
That was the year when Malfoy had masterminded and actively participated in the cold-blooded murder of the school's beloved headmaster, Albus fucking Dumbledore.
His words of that fateful night always echoed in his thoughts, his dreams, his damned nightmares. "I often talk aloud to myself. I find it extraordinarily useful. Have you been whispering to yourself, Draco? Draco, you are no assassin." Dumbledore always seemed off, like a crystal ball at a carnival, wise and full of words but words that never made a bloody ounce of sense.
He was an assassin; he had been one long before he was ever tasked with being rid of him, and he'd done unspeakable things. Yet, when the moment came, he couldn't kill him. He couldn't do it.
These days, he found himself talking to himself more often, muttering in the dark corners of his thoughts. Reflecting on how utterly messed up things had become and how thoroughly ruined his bloody life was.
Truth be told, their "invitation" to attend their final year at Hogwarts wasn't an invitation at all; it was more of a bloody requirement, a necessity imposed upon them while trials and judgments loomed large.
His solicitor had argued passionately that refusing this "invitation" wouldn't bode well for him, his mother, or his father when they had to face the Wizengamot. Malfoy couldn't help but acknowledge the truth in that argument. They were the Malfoys, but their mother had betrayed that Moldy Voldy sick fuck when it mattered most, and that had helped, but presenting a spectacle of wanting to be reformed would serve them all well.
His father was already rotting away in Azkaban, and Malfoy knew the wanker would probably wither away there for good.
His role in the scheming had been too grand, too complex. And despite the occasional pangs of guilt that plagued him, sometimes all he could feel was a profound sense of relief.
Relief from the burden of living up to the expectations of a bloody psychopath.
What the bloody hell was Theo reading anyway? Draco wondered as he shot his mate a sidelong glance, noting the book's cover: Unveiling Shadows: Breaking the Prejudice of the Muggle-Born.
Merlin, Theo was certainly going all out to demonstrate his commitment to this so-called "reformation." It was funny how, just a year ago, reforming the world meant nothing but slaughtering anything non-magical and purifying their world of impurities.
Theo sensed Draco's curiosity and shot him a knowing look that said: Don't you dare ask me why the hell I'm reading this bollocks, or I'll punch you.
Malfoy's lip curled in disgust, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
Finally, the train came to a halt, and Blaise stood up to swing the compartment doors open. It was time to proceed out into the bloody procession, back to the castle they had left just four months ago—a castle where they had witnessed the gruesome slaughter of hundreds of their peers, mentors, and family members. It all made perfect bloody sense.
Ahead, Malfoy did a double take as he noticed a striking brunette stepping out of the train carriage she had been in. She carried a brown leather bag in hand, wore tight black pants a form-fitting pink chiffon shirt, and had her hair pulled back into a tight bun. What caught his attention more than her attire was the fact that none of the students were wearing their house robes. They had been instructed not to wear them on the first day back, as it was a way to show unity. The Great Hall, in honor of those who had fallen during the war, would remain undivided for their first supper together.
Students were encouraged to sit anywhere and mingle, a departure from the usual house-based seating arrangement. It all seemed rather absurd.
As the mysterious witch walked ahead, Malfoy couldn't help but notice that her posterior was perfectly round, even quite plump.
His curiosity was piqued.
Nott let out a low whistle beside him and raised an eyebrow, "Dibs."
Malfoy shot him a glare, "Bugger off, Mate, I spotted her first." Just then, a tall redhead appeared at the brunette's side, slipped his arm around her, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. It was none other than the Weasel, Ronald Weasley.
Malfoy felt a surge of irritation.
"Weasel," Malfoy taunted, unable to resist the opportunity, "Did you manage to scrape together two sickles to buy yourself a fake girlfriend?"
The brunette turned, her gaze meeting his, and if he had been sipping a drink, he surely would have spat it out. It was the same Mudblood, Hermione Granger, but she had transformed. She had filled out, her figure lean yet curvaceous. Her face had matured as well, her cheekbones sculpted and her brows impeccably groomed.
Merlin, Salazar, forgive him, but she was drop-dead gorgeous. When the hell had this happened?
"Fuck off, Malfoy," she retorted in her usual haughty and irritating tone, and Malfoy could not help but be intrigued. He quickened his pace to walk alongside her, blatantly ignoring the Weasel on her arm, and asked, "Granger, how have you been?" It was a rather impulsive and, some might say, stupid move. Maybe it was the result of pent-up hormones?
After all, it had been two long months since he'd had any action, and for someone of his age and stamina, that was quite a dry spell.
"Malfoy, didn't you hear her the first time? Fuck off," Weasel chimed in, lowering his voice on the last two words, "Death Eater."
Nott, now standing beside Weasel, cupped his hand to his ear theatrically and added, "What was that, Weaselton?"
Oh, He was ready for a fight. He truly was.
"They both said fuck off."
Malfoy formed a fist at his side as Potter joined their procession towards the great hall, his hand holding the littlest weasels and his idiotic glasses fogging. It was too soon to get in trouble. It was too soon to get expelled and risk Potter changing his mind about being a witness to help both he and especially his mum's case.
Fuck.
"Potter," Malfoy stated curtly, acknowledging the presence of his long-standing rival.
Who the hell cares that he defeated Moldy Voldy for the second time? Dumb luck.
Scarhead was destined for it. It didn't mean they had to be nice to him all of a sudden.
"Let's not start this year off like this, Malfoy," Potter suggested, casting an exasperated look at both Malfoy and Nott.
Malfoy responded with an indifferent shrug, as though he were already fed up with the entire spectacle.
He gave Theo a subtle nod, signaling for him to walk ahead. Without looking back, they left the Golden Trio behind, likely engaged in their usual gossip and criticism.
"Fucking hell," Malfoy muttered under his breath as they reached the Great Hall.
Theo gave Malfoy a sly grin. "I was beginning to wonder how I'd make it through this year and show the world I'm reformed," he remarked with a touch of humor. They continued walking and reached a table of first years, who promptly fled to the end of the table away from them in response to both their intimidating presences.
Malfoy sighed heavily as he took his seat and surveyed the Great Hall, his expression one of weariness. "Go on," he said to Theo, his tone tinged with boredom.
"I'm going to date the mudblood," Theo casually announced as he stood up to fix himself a plate.
Pansy who had caughtup with them became taken aback, gently grabbed his arm and demanded, "What the hell did you just say?"
Theo responded with a sly and mischievous smile, "You heard me."
Blaise exchanged an exhausted look with Malfoy, and the two of them silently communicated their exasperation at Theo's audacity.
Astoria who had just appeared, her gaze fixed on the book Theo had set down, offered her perspective. "It's a strategic move for your image, Theo. That's actually quite clever."
Theo perked up and pointed at Astoria, remarking, "Someone's paying attention."
Malfoy, rolling his eyes in response to the ongoing drama, turned his gaze forward just as the Golden Trio made their grand entrance into the Great Hall, where they were met with thunderous applause.
"Fucking war heroes," he muttered under his breath, "Who cares?"
Blaise cast a meaningful look at Malfoy and remarked, "Everyone, Mate."
Theo returned with a heaping plate of food, while Daphne and Astoria rose to fetch their own meals. Pansy observed Theo with a mix of suspicion and curiosity, her eyes fixed on him.
"She's so far up the Weasel's ass, I doubt you'll get a chance with her, Theo," Pansy commented, her tone skeptical. "Besides, you're a Slytherin and an ex-Death Eater, may I add. There's absolutely no way."
Theo raised an eyebrow, taking a thoughtful bite of his meal before looking at Pansy, Malfoy, and Blaise. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he proposed, "Care to place a bet?"
Blaise, still annoyed with the situation in the train compartment, bore a glowing mask on his face, and he exchanged knowing glances with Pansy before both of them turned their attention to Malfoy, who was glaring at them.
"She's a bloody mudblood," Malfoy grumbled as he caught onto their intentions.
Blaise nonchalantly shrugged. "First one to get her to fall in love, not just shag her, Mate, will get my mum's villa in France."
Pansy made a face at the mention of the villa. "The one where her fifth husband died off that balcony in the front and is still haunted?" she asked skeptically.
Blaise casually shrugged again. "Yep, that's the one."
Theo burst into laughter. "I'll sweeten the deal with my grandfather's original manuscripts."
Pansy's mouth dropped open in surprise, and she turned to Malfoy to gauge his reaction.
Malfoy sighed, "If my father finds out about this, he may just have my head." He pretended to consider it for a moment. "And that is a risk I'm willing to take." He chimed in with a devious smile. "I'll add Bellatrix's vault and its contents that I somehow inherited to the mix."
Pansy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And if neither of you gits gets the job done, Blaise and I win."
Theo looked at Malfoy, seeking confirmation. "By your birthday, Mate?"
Malfoy pretended to contemplate the timeline. "June, those are acceptable terms."
Blaise chuckled knowingly. "Malfoy, you're going to have much more trouble than Theo. Theo didn't spend years torturing her and her friends, and nobody knows about his involvement with Dumbledore."
Malfoy drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes scanning the Great Hall.
He fixated on the spot where Granger, looking rather ravishing, sat with her two dimwits.
A crooked smile crept across his face as he leaned in and declared, "Challenge accepted."