Bloodied teeth
The moment Umbridge had stepped foot in the castle Harry already knew she was no good. He always felt her glares at the back of his head.
And, just like always, Draco stood for nothing but trouble.
He didn't trust either of them, but the two of them together? That was just worse.
He had been staring at the map for half an hour already, Malfoy and Umbridge's name tags just occasionally shook or stumbled, but never moved. He hadn't even seen when they first stumbled into each other, just remembered his attention being caught by their name tags moving around one another, like some sort of chaotic dance.
Umbrigde's tag had stilled almost completely, but Malfoy still moved.
The reason Harry hadn't already thrown on his shoes and cloak to stalk them was because Neville was still awake. Bless Neville, he really liked that lad, but sometimes he was just insufferable.
The moment Neville had turned his back on Harry, he had hurried his cloak around him and stumbled out the gryffindor common room.
"Harry?"
He froze immediately, and looked back.
Ron was peeking out from under his sheets, his ginger hair messed up into a puffball from his well-abused pillow. (Harry did not want to know what he did with his pillows.)
"What'u doing?"
Harry lifted the hem of his invisibility cloak and looked at Ron, then waved his hand.
Ron grumbled and moved, his long legs trapped in the mess of sheets, and he fell out of his bed in the most graceful manner a Weasley could muster
Typical.
He crawled towards Harry, cradling his darn pillow to his chest.
Harry ushered him under the cloak and they left the common room, sneaking through the dark and empty corridors.
Malfoy and Umbridge were still in the same spot, but now they were unmoving.
"Think they're shagging?"
"Ugh!" Harry hated the mental image in his head, and he shivered. "Don't say that you git," he hissed.
Groans and moans are what could be heard, along with something distinctly wet.
Ron gave Harry an eye-wide stare, and Harry punched him in the gut.
Thankfully, it wasn't what Ron had thought it was.
It was something much worse.
Harry had lifted his wand to cast a dim Lumos, and he waved his wand around along the walls.
There were splatters of something dark on the walls, portraits were crushed and the walls were damaged- like someone had thrown a heavy object at it.
When they rounded the corner, there was a small pool of the same dark substance, and a trail leading into the darkness of the hallway up ahead.
It was blood.
Someone bleeding badly had been dragged a good 100 meters down the hall, and had been thrown into the walls.
The sounds grew louder.
Ron and Harry both raised their wands, and they stiffened when they saw the scene.
Bloody.
A hunched silhouette was moving in the dark, and a singular heeled foot stuck out behind the figure's cloak.
Harry looked back for the other heel, but saw nothing.
Ron looked horrified, and he lifted the cloak off of him to get closer, the tip of his wand shining-
Malfoy.
Harry violently recoiled.
Malfoy was sitting on top of Umbridge, his knee digging into her shattered rib cage, bending her spine in an unnatural way and crushing her organs- well, those that were left.
His hands were scooping up Umbridge's organs like a claw machine, his bloodied hair twisted in the air by the force of which he stabbed into her face with her missing heel.
"Oh my Merlin-" Ron backed up.
Malfoy didn't seem to hear, or maybe he just didn't care.
His body was shaking and he looked like a small carnivorous predator. True to his name, like a dragon.
And he kept plunging the heel into the remains on the floor, shattering her already caved in skull and squashing her eyeballs with such force it made Harry quiver.
He never knew Malfoy was that strong- of course, everyone knew Malfoy was strong magically, but physically he was hopeless. Even Hermione could pick him up and manhandle him if she wanted to.
So why?
Why was it that Malfoy didn't have a single scratch on him?
He looked elegant and beautiful as he always did (Harry wasn't willing to admit that out loud though), but he was bathed in blood.
His jaws kept snapping dangerously, blood and spit dripped off of his red lips, and Harry noticed that there was brown hair in between his teeth.
The blonde boy was breathing harshly, practically wheezing, his chest heaving as he finally, finally, stopped attacking the lifeless corpse.
"What have you done?" Harry asked, his hands shaking, his wand clutched in his grip like a lifeline, but he was frozen.
Malfoy looked back at them, his eyes glowing in the void, blood dripping down his chin, nose, eyelashes, hair, lips, teeth-
God.
Malfoy had ripped her throat out with his teeth.
"M…Malfoy," Ron whispered, trying to sound brave but he was clearly terrified.
The boy stared at them without a word, swallowing down lump after lump of blood, like a true man eater.
Then he collapsed.
His head fell into the open cavity of Umbridge's stomach, in between her shattered ribs and her still beating heart.
He must've blacked out from the sheer force and exhaustion of his brutal murder.
Harry and Ron rushed forward and grabbed his forearms, secured them behind his back and yanked him away from the bloodied pile.
Malfoy was knocked out cold, his breath ragged and his throat clogged with blood.
Ron risked another glance up ahead, and he felt bile rise in his spasming throat.
Umbridge was beyond repair, it looked like she had been mauled to death by a dragon, her face shriveled like she had been dipped in a meat grinder head first.
Her intestines were wrapped around Malfoy's clenched fist, just like Ron twirled spaghetti around his fork.
Harry looked at Malfoy.
"Ron…," he gasped.
That night, the two boys came to the conclusion that Draco Malfoy was not human.