Imminent

My neck is breaking, body shaking, Sometimes it's so hard to breathe
But no-one sees it follows me, I always end up underneath
These thoughts won't rest, I can't forgive
I overthink until I'm sick, I'm too damn tired
Too worn to fight, I don't feel strong enough
To leave on the light
(Weight of the World, Citizen Soldier)

September 1996

Draco leaned against the cold stone of the pillar looking out over the forest, the lake to his back. It was one of those calm, serene nights. The kind that should’ve helped you focus, meditate even. The kind that should’ve made you feel at peace. 

Draco was feeling anything but peace in recent months. His father was becoming unhinged again and he was forced to leave his mother and attend school. If he had a choice, he would have stayed home. 

Stayed and protected her. 

He couldn’t focus on his schoolwork. Struggled to focus on his other task. His mind was plagued by thoughts of what god-awful things Lucius might try doing to his mother now that the Dark Lord had freed him from Azkaban and Draco wasn’t there. Milly and Hugo were directed to contact him immediately but with Lucius still being master of the house, he could order them to stay quiet. 

The feeling gnawed at him continuously. He didn’t think he could bear to see his mother with another glamoured black eye when he went home.

He took a long drag from the cigarette between his lips. He hoped that the burn of the tobacco would give him something…anything…but no. 

All it did was leave him with disappointment. 

Now it was a terrible habit when things started to feel…a bit too much. Sneaking out of the common room like it was a dirty secret. It was anything but. They all knew, he was sure of it. Even freshening charms couldn’t completely hide away the smell of burnt tobacco.

Even though the burn wasn’t satisfying, he hated how soothing the smell was becoming. His mother’s voice echoed in his head, Nasty smelling habit. Gentlemen don’t smoke cigarettes.

“Malfoy?”

Her soft voice almost made him jump. Almost. Draco managed a quick breath to calm himself. He stayed leaning against the cold stone, appearing nonchalant at best. He peered at her from the corner of his eyes, taking in her appearance. Her hair was windswept, her normally pristine uniform slightly rumpled, and she had a rosy glow to her cheeks like she’d been running.

“Granger,” he drawled and took another drag. He blew the smoke away before turning his head towards her.“Bit late for you to be out, isn’t it? Breaking curfew doesn’t seem to be your style,” he murmured, keeping his expression stony.

“I could say the same for you. And enjoying a nasty habit it seems?” She crossed her arms and Draco feigned disinterest. 

Why should Granger care if he had taken up smoking? Maybe it was one of those righteous causes she deemed to need her attention. He shrugged and took a final drag before stamping out the light. Draco finally turned to her fully and felt himself almost stop at the sight of her. 

Something about Granger right now was…intriguing him. Was it the rosiness to her cheeks? The brightness her eyes seem to shine with right now? He couldn’t place his finger on what exactly it was. Though he was starting to become irritated with himself for giving so much thought to how Granger’s eyes suddenly seemed very pretty... 

“Sometimes nasty habits are good for you. Keeps you from doing stupid things. Like becoming friends with stupid people. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be hovering over Potter and Weasley? Being all motherly?” 

He tried to sneer at her. He really did. He internally cursed himself for not having the effort to be his usual snarky self. It was just so damn tiring to keep up the charade and right now he could barely muster the energy. He just wanted some damn peace and quiet. Was that really too much to ask for right now?

“I’m not their mother, Malfoy. And I don’t hover,” she snapped with a roll of her eyes and started walking away. Draco shrugged and headed towards his common room…which happened to be the same direction she was going.

Dammit.

She quipped at him, “Lost, Malfoy?”

He tsked and resisted the urge to roll his own eyes. She could be so aggravating, the little swot.

“You know my common room is this way, don’t get your fantasies twisted, little muggleborn.”

She stopped abruptly and stared wide-eyed at him. Draco kept his cool demeanour but chastised himself. 

Shit.

It was one thing to not have the energy to be a dick, it was another to slip and not degrade her like he always did. He was supposed to keep up the facade of hating her, that she was disgusting. That muggleborns were lowly creatures. Mudbloods, specifically. So why did he slip with her? She was the worst of them…wasn’t she? 

Whatever the reason, he could determine it later he decided. Right now, he needed to figure out a way to recover because she’d caught him. 

“Quit gaping like a fish. It’s most unbecoming, even for you.” He did roll his eyes that time and smoothly sauntered past her.

“I…wait…what?”

“You heard me, Granger,” he called back over his shoulder and kept walking. 

Draco tried to keep the smirk off his face. There was something satisfying in making Granger speechless. He wouldn’t mind doing it more often, he admitted.

The next few days left Draco having a sort of complex. 

He found himself needing to constantly remind himself that he hated Granger. He hated that she was smarter than him and excelled brilliantly with all of their classes. He hated that she was friends with those bastards, Potter and Weasley. He hated that she found it easy to have conversations with people outside her friend group. He hated that she had ridiculously curly, frizzy, hair. Though, when she managed to put it up in one of those messy bun things he guessed it wasn’t too bad.

No, Draco. Bad Draco.

No, her hair was always bad. It was unruly. It was too curly. It was too plain-coloured. 

Gods, what was wrong with him? 

Draco stabbed a little too aggressively at his breakfast with his fork. Thankfully, his friends were too involved with gossiping about Blaise’s black widow of a mother to notice his irritation. If he wasn’t outright joining in on their fun, they left him alone. Or at least most of the time they did.

Theo and Blaise periodically asked him how he was doing, how his mother was. Even his iciest glares or coldest shoulder didn’t deter them from at least trying a few times a day. He’d practically abandoned them over the summer due to the situation growing in his household. Owl after owl had arrived with letters from the two boys and Pansy. Draco didn’t have the heart to open and read them, feeling too ashamed at his treatment of them. Pansy had even tried visiting over the summer only to be stopped by Milly at the Floo, being told that Draco was much too busy and couldn’t have visitors. 

When in fact he had been bedridden, healing from the grotesque branding.

Draco guessed he should at least be thankful that they were still willing to try. He certainly didn’t have the energy to pretend to try anymore. Not when he was too preoccupied by the Snake that invaded his home and his unhinged father, who was most likely tripping over himself to allow the Dark Lord free reign.

It was…well he couldn't really think of the best word for it at the moment. Everything was a mix between overwhelming, frustrating, and downright enraging all at the same time. Draco felt himself slipping into a deep depression at the thought of it all. It certainly made his head hurt when he put too much thought into it. He needed to focus on the one thing that could  influence the state of his mother when he next went home.

He had no idea where to even start.

Maybe he could hide away in the library for some peace and quiet and even find a book on repairing magical objects…

Two weeks of scouring the library passed and all Draco came across was a general description on repairing complex magical objects. Sure there were small charms meant for small jobs, like fixing your grandfather’s pocketwatch or even a Rememberall. But nothing to specifically help with a teleportation device. So it did little to help the enormous problem he had. In slight desperation, he tried the simple spells, ensuring he recited each one about ten times in the hopes that any worked. 

The apples that volunteered to go through the Vanishing Cabinet weren’t so lucky…each one returned as a sauce.

Out of frustration, he was practically slumped in the far corner of the library, close to the Restricted Section. The smell of the old books gave him a renewed sense of calm instead of the headbanging frustration that was his constant companion now. Thankfully the rest of the student body seemed content with ignoring his existence…or at least pretending to ignore it.

He would be a fool to think that they weren’t whispering behind his back. It followed him like a little black cloud no matter where he went. There were always whispers. Whispers about his father going to prison. About the escape from prison. About his mother, about how she could have allowed such things to occur. About him, how he was certainly a Death Eater by now. 

He knew Potter and Weasley were culprits for the last one. 

No love lost there, obviously. 

Potter was always loud in his accusations and this was no different. The boy had never been one to shy away from confronting Draco about his suspicions before, but so far hadn’t said anything directly to him this year. No, instead Draco had heard it muttered between the three friends in the halls when he was just a few feet away. 

 It was just whispers. 

Always whispers. 

And he hated it entirely.

And then there were the girls who tried to “live dangerously” and would flirt with him. He didn’t understand why some girls were so airheaded that they truly thought it was worthwhile to date a suspected Death Eater. How was that even slightly appealing? It was nauseating to say the least. Draco gagged at the thought of a wide-eyed, giggly nuisance attached to his arm. 

He made sure to keep a mental list of them. Those would one day be the women that he’d be wise to avoid at all costs. One day be the eligible ladies looking to snag the Malfoy heir for clout. It was one of the reasons he was sitting in the very back of the library, hidden by the musty old books between the restricted section and forgotten languages with a window overlooking the quidditch pitch as his only other source of comfort.

It was a nice little reprieve, he would admit. If he had his choice, he would be flying around that pitch, rejoicing in the wind whipping past and the feeling of free falling. It was surely the greatest feeling in the world.

Though if you asked him later in life, Draco would compare that feeling to the day when those honey-coloured eyes landed on him in the library.

It was always her eyes that stood out to him. Even from the first time he met her back in first year. They were never just a simple brown or hazel. It was like they were ever-changing. A swirl of shades. And whenever he caught a glimpse, Draco hated to admit that sometimes his breath would catch. But if anyone ever asked, of course he would scoff and deny such a thing.

No, Draco. Bad Draco…

Draco decided that was the perfect opportunity to work on his Occlumency. It was going to become an absolute necessity in his arsenal to handle the debacle at home. So there he sat, in his little corner of the library, ignoring the rest of the world while he built his mind palace which had started to resemble the Hogwarts and Malfoy libraries. 

And he was certainly ignoring the slightly bushy, curly haired witch that was making her way out of the Restricted Section. It was no surprise that she had a pass to the Restricted Section. She was, after all, a teacher’s favourite and showed she was more than adept at controlling any urges to misuse the books in that area.

Draco certainly wasn’t allowed in there. Nor would he swallow his pride and ask Granger to find any books for him. No, she would probably run to Potter and Weasley and confirm their suspicions that he was up to no good.

The thought that Granger might actually view him that way didn’t sit right with him. And that thought disturbed him even further. Maybe it had something to do with Milly chastising him about his treatment of Granger whenever he would report all the details of the school year to her over the summer. Milly practically had hearts in her eyes when Draco first talked about Granger, even moreso when he told Milly about Granger’s campaign for elf rights. He had hoped the little elf would riot and be on his side.

But no…

Milly just had to go on a tangent that “the young miss is going places with her life. Such morals. Such good upbringing to be thinking of us small elfs. Many elfs won’t like it, oh no. But the young miss could do so much more for others. Just like you can, Master Draco. Yes, you can too. Like I’ve told you for years and years and years and years…”

Milly’s tangent had lasted for about five minutes until Draco pretended that her scones were burnt. Milly was so angry at his lie that she’d shooed him out of the kitchen with a wap of a kitchen towel. 

Draco chuckled to himself at the memory.

He loved Milly as much as his own mother. If the little elf ever left them, Draco knew he would be heartbroken.

He was pulled from his musings by a quiet voice that he almost didn’t hear.

“Can I sit here?”

Draco looked up from the runes book he was trying to understand to find none other than Hermione Granger. She seemed to be fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe, the strap of her bag hitched up on her shoulder and looking at him expectantly.

And she was asking if she could sit at the table and study in the library?

With him?

Was Hell frozen over? Was she Imperiused? Had someone slipped her a potion?

“Malfoy?” she asked when he only blinked at her.

No, this had to be a ruse. Set up by Potter and Weasley. It had to be. But he had never known Granger to be outright cruel. Sly, cunning. Wicked maybe at most. But not cruel. Unless you counted the time she punched him in the nose in third year…but he supposed he had that coming…

Oh, she was still talking…

“-tables are full. Actually, this is one of my preferred tables. Hardly anyone bothers me when I sit back here. But you’ve sat here so much lately, I haven’t had a chance. Do you mind?”

He just nodded and waved his hand, gesturing for her to do as she pleased. She muttered a thanks and pulled out a few books, parchment, and some very odd looking quills. Were those quills? They certainly didn’t look like quills. She was using them to write so he guessed they were? Maybe it was some weird muggle contraption. Either way, he forced himself to ignore his curiosity. It wouldn’t do to show interest in muggle things when he’s supposed to hate her…

Supposed to…

Granger was careful to keep her books away from him, perched delicately on one side of the table. She seemed to be overly conscious and cautious of how much space she was using. Draco wondered if that was because of her years studying with others or because she was mindful of him? He decided to return to his reading, glancing up periodically to see if he had imagined the whole thing.

Nope.

There she was, sitting across from him, studying. Occasionally she would glance up and ask him a question but otherwise stayed silent.

It was…dare he say it? Oddly nice.

Draco tried to not think too much of it. 

This is normal. Act normal, Draco. Don't be weird.

It was a surprisingly normal thing wasn’t it? To sit with someone in a library as each studied whatever it was they were studying? He used to sit with his friends but since the start of the year they gave him the space he’d purposefully set. It made him miss sitting across from Blaise and Theo. He missed hearing them muttering back and forth. Blaise would call Theo a know-it-all git before Theo would send a jinx to Blaise’s quill. The two would only calm down with a stern grumble from either Draco or Pansy.

Oh, he missed it.

So, yes it was normal…

But this wasn’t normal. 

Because he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger. 

This was definitely not normal.

But apparently Granger was determined to make it normal. So much so that she sat with him every day for the next week. And he found it oddly nice…again…

Because she didn’t shy away from him anymore. She didn’t mock him or snap at him. And he didn’t do it to her either. They were just two students studying for classes. And Draco found in that short week that he really rather enjoyed studying with Granger. 

She was classically witty and would match his sarcasm. He knew–everyone knew–she was insanely intelligent but Draco now saw firsthand just how intelligent. The girl seemed possessed as she worked on assignments that weren’t due until the end of term. And she flew through everything with such ease that he was almost gobsmacked to discover that she was learning several languages in her free time.

Though he was amused to find that one subject that Granger struggled with was potions. And that was obviously his forte. He found it heartening that she wasn’t too proud or stubborn to ask for his help when she was having a problem with a potions essay. He was amused to learn that many of the notes she scribbled down in class were questions she wanted him to answer.

Not Slughorn, not Snape.

She wanted his answers.

And Draco thought that might've been the point when he started seeing Granger as more than just another annoying little muggleborn.