Prisoner of A Father

They end up making a group decision not to go to class the next day. 

And really, it’s the room that decides for them. 

Draco wakes up first, swearing he fell asleep on a couch and not a bloody comfortable bed, and that his friends had been in chairs not under sheets and fluffy blankets. He’s also pretty sure that their school books hadn’t been by a giant fireplace, and that none of them thought to cast a warming spell on a cup of coffee that definitely hadn’t been there last night. LuLu doesn’t seem to mind the development, though, so Draco decides it really isn’t such a bad thing. A day inside with his friends doesn’t seem that bad, and really they’re not missing much. Care of Magical Creatures had been put on hold, and although he doesn’t know why, he does have a rather bad feeling about it.

Pansy and Blaise don’t even bat an eyelash when they wake to find him and LuLu pouring over their Potions assignment, they merely sink to the floor, dragging their blankets with them, and open their own books. 

The room supplies nearly everything except food and a clock, so when their stomachs do finally start rumbling they make a real, brain powered, decision to leave. According to the grand clock in the common room, they were right on time for lunch.

“Really,” Pansy's saying, “Who knew it was even there.”

“Life is a mystery, darling, if we question every weird thing we see we’d be at this table for the next ten years.”

Draco doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes at Blaise, or explaining to Crabbe and Goyle where they had disappeared to. Partly because he’s too busy shoving food into his mouth and then choking on it when he sees his father’s owl coming towards him.

Blaise, bless him, pats his back until his air pipes are no longer blocked by steamed broccoli, and even makes an effort to remain close when he opens the letter.

Something about ignorance being bliss comes to mind as he reads, and then rereads the stupid thing. Hagrid’s vanishing act starts to make a lot more sense as phrases like ‘ that awful creature and ignorant oaf stood trial ’ and ‘ the death sentence was really the only option’ finally start to sink in. Draco’s personal favorite is ‘the mockery upon our name must be wiped out’ , as though his ancestors would be proud of his father’s willingness to act like a fangirl over something as stupid as an evil lizard-man. 

He’s on his feet before he knows it. 

“Draco? Where are you going?”

Pansy and Blaise call after him, and he’s fully aware that he’s more than likely causing a rather big scene by fleeing the Great Hall after making a very late appearance in the day, but he’s also a little busy trying to fix his father’s bullshit. Again. 

Hagrid’s hut still disgusts him, and Merlin does he hate the walk down, but his father hadn’t told him the final remark, and he had to be sure before throwing himself into finding a course of action. Two knocks later and he regrets coming more than he regrets being born into a shit-show of a family.

“What ‘re ye doin here?” Hagrid sniffs, eyes red-rimmed and snot still in his beard. 

Draco takes it in stride, “Are they really going to kill him?” He lets an edge of worry creep into his voice, just so his act is a little more convincing. 

Hagrid sobs . “Come to gloat, then?! As if losing’ Buckbeak ain’t enough…”

Deciding that doesn’t dignify a response, Draco turns on his heel and marches to the side of the man’s hut, finding the Hippogriff and bowing deeply. He knows Hagrid is watching, but at this point he doesn’t fucking care. 

Buckbeak bows back and makes to come near him, but a chain keeps him from going far so Draco meets him halfway, hands reaching out to stroke surprisingly soft feathers. 

“I know I’m an asshole,” He whispers, “But I swear if there is any good left to my name I will not let an innocent creature die for my father’s mistakes. Not without a damn fight.” 

And although he knows Hagrid can’t hear him, no one could miss the nuzzle Buckbeak gives him in response. 

----------

He’s deep in law books in the middle of what should be his free period when he remembers his promise to Potter. 

The reminder comes in the form of said Scar Face glaring at him from three tables away, beady green eyes ruining his search for a fault in his father’s reasoning. Once he does remember, he’s out the door before Harry can think to corner him. How the boy manages to catch up to him in Dumbledore’s stairway, he has no fucking clue.

“I forgot!” Is the only excuse he can offer, because it’s really the only one he has. 

“Forgot?! You came up with the bloody plan!”

“How else was I supposed to get you to bed? I had a late night, give me a break.”

Harry looks like he’s about to ask what the fuck that means, but Dumbledore is in front of them with a strange, but happy, look.

“Boys,” He smiles, “What a pleasure to see the two of you together. How may I assist you?”

Draco takes a seat, Fawkes greets them both before they settle in with tea and somehow spend the next two hours recounting their previous night to an asshole of an old man. Neither of them bring up the Astrology tower, Harry willingly goes along with the lie that he walked the boy straight back to his dorm. Somehow it makes the whole thing seem a lot more intimate than it really was.

The bad news is that Dumbledore didn’t know Pettigrew was alive, but apparently he never trusted the man in the first place. The good news, if you could call it that, was that Dumbledore also already knew Pettigrew was an issue. 

“More secrets, I presume?” Draco draws in his most seething voice yet.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He’d give anything to wipe the look of innocence off the fuckers face, but Harry is in the room. Somehow, and only Merlin knows how he does it, they finish their conversation without any hexes being thrown. Draco’s half convinced he’s managed to get away with his little comment, but then he and Potter begin to take their leave for dinner and Dumbledore decides now would be a great time to add to Draco’s ever growing reasons to question his sanity.

“I heard you visited Hagrid today….”

They were so close, literally three feet from the fucking door but that one sentence makes Draco freeze in place, and Harry, the complete dumbass, turns and gives the headmaster a confused look.

“But I didn’t-” Draco can feel his eyes widen. He would pause to have a chat about it, but he’s a bit too busy fleeing from the room with his head held high like he’s not about to run and complain to Snape. It’s a shame, really, he’s sure Dumbledore would’ve loved to see the annoyance creep into his face.

Like most things lately, his plan doesn’t work out.

Harry grabs him by the arm and hauls him into an empty classroom, casting locking and silencing spells before Draco can even think to be angry.

“You went to see Hagrid?!”  

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about Pettigrew instead of gawking at my humanity?” 

Potter completely ignores him. “Is that where you were this morning? No, because Hagrid didn’t get back until lunch! Me, Ron, and ‘Mione were going to go visit him after dinner, but you went after lunch didn’t you?! That’s why you stormed off in a huff-”

“I’m honored to frequent your thoughts, really, but isn’t it a bit early for this conversation?”

That Harry has no problem hearing, or laughing at that. “Draco, my gang once brewed Polyjuice Potion in a girl’s bathroom, I’m fairly good at not getting caught.”

Draco has to bite back a scathing comment about how well his Crabbe and Goyle impression had been. He literally chomps down on his tongue before rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “Is that why you dragged me in here? To gloat about your shitty impression of my friends?”

So maybe he could only bite back the ‘you’re a moronic bloody git’ part, but Harry takes it in stride and has the audacity to look at him like he’s the crazy one. In his defense, he has only had two hours of sleep in the past two days and potions and coffee can only do so much.

“Merlin no, I wanna know why you went to see Hagrid.”

Draco has been called many things in his thirteen years, but no one had ever accused him of being patient. 

“I went to have bloody tea with him. We ate fancy cakes and parted the best of friends with the promise of adding him to my manor floo network.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Yes and I’m sure Snape dresses in a lovely pink gown whenever you have tea too. The truth. Please.”

“Just because we’re friends now does not mean I have to tell you all my sodding secrets-”

“I’m trying to save Buckbeak, okay?” Looks like Harry has figured out shouting does in fact shut Draco up for a few minutes. “The three of us have been at it since we found out there was even going to be a trial. And you’re right, you don’t have to tell me all your juicy life details, but there is an innocent life at stake here and I’d rather not see it ended just because your father is a dickhead!”

The worst part of it all is that Draco can’t find a single point to argue with in Potter’s little speech, so he sighs and lets go of his defensive potion. He really needs to work on whatever hold Scar Face has on him that makes him want to tell the truth. It’s starting to damage his personality. 

“I went to find out if what my father said was true. I didn’t even know there was a trial until I got his letter at lunch, and when I realized the beast is facing the death penalty, I didn’t believe it, so I went to ask the oaf for myself.” Draco rakes a hand through his hair, “I’ve been in the library going through wizard law books trying to find something to change their mind because once a sentence is set it can still be challenged but there’s only six weeks before the executioner comes knocking, so I’m running on a bit of strict schedule.”

“We’re running on a strict schedule.”

Whiplash. He’s definitely going to get whiplash if Harry keeps saying things that makes him turn his head so quickly.

“We? Who is this we, Potter?”

On a scale of awful to hellish, the smile he’s looking at is probably the second worst thing he’s seen today, right under realizing a pure creature was going to die because of him. It honestly activates his flight or fight response more than his father does, and that’s saying something.

“We, as in me, you, Ron, and Hermione.”

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t stop the horror gripping his every atom. “No. No-Potter! Absolutely not! Do you have brain cells left in that big head of yours?! Let me spell it out for you! I. Am. A. Slytherin . We don’t hang out with you honor-loving wankers! Not to mention that Weasleys and Malfoys have hated each other since before my parents were born! And what about Granger?! She loathes me!”

Harry’s smile doesn’t even dim, much to Draco’s growing sense of doom.

“No. It’s not happening. ” 

“Oh it’s happening.”

“No.”

“Come on, Draco,” Fuck, is he getting used to Potter using his name? “Think about it! You and ‘Mione are the two smartest people in the whole school! We have a better chance of saving Buckbeak together than we do separately, and you know it. Do you want to save him or not?”

Shit. He’s half-tempted to bang his head against the wall until he has a concussion so bad he’s useless for the rest of the school year, possibly the rest of his miserable life. But, ass-for-brains Potter makes an excellent point, plus if he managed to wrangle Granger into not hating him, he could figure out how the hell she was taking every class known to third-years. Their little trio had pulled off more things than Draco had thought possible of children, and if anyone could help him here it would be them. Not even Pansy, with her lawyer father, and Blaise, with his never ending bookcases would be of use to him for this expedition...but they could provide relief. 

“I have a condition.”

Harry grins like the sun is shining out of his ass.  “What is it? Tea? Cookies? A winning streak in Quidditch?”

“Pansy and Blaise get to come.” 

Draco was proud of not rising to the Quidditch bait, but only because he has the satisfaction of watching Harry’s blood drain from his face. Finally, a way to pay back all those headaches. 

“No-”

“Now, Harry.”

“Absolutely not! You’re one thing, and they are another! We know you’re on our side but-”

“I trust them with my life.” Draco lets the words hang between them for a moment before continuing. “You know they’re contracted to me with a blood binding spell of all things. They wouldn’t be able to talk about anything even if they wanted to, but seeing that their loyalty lies with me I doubt they would want to.”

He can see the gears turning in Potter’s head like he’s mulling over some life or death crisis. “I thought Slytherins were loyal to their families first.”

“Surely you know family doesn’t always mean blood. Besides, did you really expect me to walk into the lion’s den outnumbered?”

Their plan is stupid, it’s so fucking idiotic and Blaise and Pansy remind him of this for the full twenty-six hours between him telling them about it and their arrival at the old Alchemy classroom door. 

“May I reiterate that this is the dumbest thing we’ve ever done?” 

“Well, Pansy didn’t call us three idiots for nothing.”

Pansy smacks his arm, “I meant that as a joke! Not as a ‘let’s join the Golden Trio’ bullshit! I still think we need to take you to Madam Pomfrey and get your head looked at.”

They could stand outside and argue about this all night long, but it’s also an hour past curfew and the three of them look more suspicious than they ever have. Before Blaise can agree and start dragging him away, Draco throws the door open and shoves his friends inside. 

From the looks of things, Harry was having a similar conversation.

To call it awkward would be the understatement of the century. A more accurate word would be painful, excruciating maybe. Something along those lines.

Weasley scowls at them, his face a very unattractive blotchy purple that isn’t doing anything for his freckles. Granger looks a little less insulted, but her eyes are guarded. She shifts her gaze between them like she’s trying to think of the worst that could happen and that’s exactly what Draco’s doing. At least she’s not likely to hex them without provoking on their part. Harry just tries to smile, but it comes out forced and wary. The two sets of three glare and size each other up until Granger huffs and steps forward, sticking her hand out for Draco to shake.

“You’re all prats, but we’re saving a life here, so let’s make this as painless as possible.”

For a moment he’s genuinely shocked, but then a smile spreads across his lips and he finds himself shaking her hand.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Surprisingly, when they’re not busy insulting each other, the two of them get along swimmingly. Granger leads him over to a desk with notes piled as high as a text book and they pointedly ignore everyone else in the room to dive head-first into them. Sometime during all their debate on whether it would be worth pointing out that Buckbeak was only reacting to his natural instincts, the rest of their weird combination had piled around. He does note that Weasley and Harry stay closer to Granger and Pansy and Blaise stay close to him. 

“That won’t work, Granger, my father doesn’t use practical logic when he knows there isn’t any. He puts on a show and bullies people over, right now the Ministry all thinks they’re doing the right thing, we’d have to start with something even they can’t deny.”

“Well the Ministry is full of idiots. I suppose we can’t very well say that to their faces, though.”

Draco barely contains his grin, “Probably not the best move when trying to win people over, no.”

Granger lets out a frustrated sigh, “Could we tell them the wound didn’t really come from Buckbeak?”

“No.” Pansy says at the same time Blaise spits “Over our dead bodies.”

Harry perks up with other people talking besides the two ‘nerds’, “Why not?”

“Because then they would want to know where the wound came from.”

Blood drains from four of their faces, but Weasley apparently really does lack all common sense.

“Where did it really come from? If it wasn’t from BuckBeak, why not tell them who it’s from?”

Pansy whirls on him, “Because I’d rather not see Draco dead, thank you very much!”

 “Pans!” Blaise and Draco shout at the same time, which isn’t their smartest move because it only spurs the redhead on.

“Dead? What? You mean to tell me the prick is in some secret cult? Wouldn’t surprise me with his daddy’s past-”

“Ronald!” Granger warns right as Draco sees something snap in Pansy’s eyes. Her wand is out before any of them can react and poking right into a freckled throat.

“What your mouth!”

“Enough!” Harry bellows. 

It’s loud enough to make them all still, eyes moving from the wand to blazing green eyes.

“We aren’t here to act like children pulling pigtails! In case you all forgot, there is an innocent life at stake! That is why we’re here. I won’t endanger a life to save another one. No one is fucking dying this year, okay? I don’t care if I have to steal Buckbeak from right under Fudge’s nose!”

No one moves for an uncomfortably long time, so Draco takes it upon himself to break whatever trance they all got sucked into.

“I think that might be a last ditch option, Harry.”

Weasley sputters indignantly, “You’re on first name biases with this sodding fuck?!”

“Ronald Weasley!” Granger snaps, “Get your head out of your ass! Need I remind you that Harry and I could have left you in the dorm tonight, and don’t think I won’t send your sorry attitude right back up there if you can’t show a little respect! Malfoy might have been a wanker in the past, but he has been on our side from the very beginning! Parkinson and Zabini and here as his moral support just like you and Harry are here for me. Suck it up or leave!”

She’s red in the face when she finishes and Draco suddenly has a whole new level or respect for her. From the look on Blaise’s face and the way Pansy lowers her wand, his friends are feeling the same way.

“Thank you, Granger.” He tries desperately to ignore the smile on Harry’s face. “Could we get back to the task at hand now? There’s only a month and a half left, you know.”

----------

They end up meeting during their free nights more often than not, although at some point, after they decide no one is going to kill anyone, Pansy, Blaise, and Weasley stop showing up for every brain storming session. 

It’s the next Tuesday when he finally notices something weird. Pansy is knee-deep in her portfolio final and Blaise is drowning in his extra projects, so they both squirm out of coming. Weasley is nowhere to be found in their new secret room, but Harry and Granger are both there. 

Well, Granger is there, and Harry is passed out and probably getting drool on the desk.

“This has to be the first time he’s slept in the past two weeks,” Hermione mumbles, rubbing her eyes and yawning a bit.

She’s the one who looks like she could use a good nap right now, and with finals right around the corner, they probably all could. Somehow, the bags under her eyes are just a bit darker than everyone else's.

Draco studies her for a second before he sighs, “Stop for a second, Granger. It’s past midnight and if we’re going to make any headway tonight we’ll need coffee.”

It’s a testament to how tired she is that she doesn’t bother arguing. 

“Dobby?” he calls out. It takes all of three seconds for the elf to appear with a big grin.

“Master Draco!” 

The yell is so loud it startles Harry back to the land of the living, and then right out of his seat when he sees the small grey figure.

“I assume you know Harry and Granger?”

Dobby grins at Harry, who manages a pathetic excuse for a wave, and then peers at the girl with her jaw on the floor.

“Who-”

“Ah, I guess it’s just Harry.” Draco interrupts her because he’s really too tired to explain House Elves when he knows she probably understands them better than he cares to. “Dobby, meet Miss Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger, meet Dobby.”

“You’re-” Granger gasps, “You’re Dobby? The elf that gave Harry so much trouble last year?!”

“Technically that was Draco’s fault,” Harry yawns, moving closer to them so he can shake Dobby’s hand.

The elf is all business, “Master Draco was only tryin’ to help Mister Potter! Dobby had orders not let Mister Potter die is all! Dobby meant no harm!”

“And you didn’t cause any harm,” Draco reassures him. He sends a pointed glare at Harry before he can protest and do something awful like make his old friend feel bad. “But I didn’t ask for you so we could relive last year, I was just wondering if you’d be willing to do me a favor.”

Dobby’s ears perk up, “Anything for Master Draco!”

He’s far too tired to pretend like he isn’t smiling. “Would you mind bringing us some coffee?”

“Not at all, sir!”

A crack and the small creature is gone, leaving Hermione gaping and Harry still trying to open his eyes all the way. Before Granger can launch into whatever crazy tangent is brewing in that bushy hair of hers Dobby is back and placing three cups on their respective tables.

“Thank you Dobby, have a good night.”

He gets a grin back, “You be having a good night too Master Draco! Miss Granger! Mister Potter!”

They all wave ‘goodbye’ and throw their caffeine back like they’re alcoholics on free shot night at the Three Broomsticks. An hour later and Harry is asleep again, leaving him and Granger crossing off yet another idea from their master list. 

“Does he just not sleep?” Draco eventually snaps. In truth he’s just a little cranky because it’s a little rude to sleep when you’re supposed to be helping.

Hermione shrugs, “He’s been having more and more nightmares recently. He barely slept beforehand with all this Sirius Black bullocks, now with a living dead man, Dementors, and overthinking on top of his school work and Quidditch…..I think his brain just doesn’t let him anymore.”

“Has he tried a Sleeping Draught?” 

“Please,” Granger laughs, “If he’d take it I would’ve forced it on him ages ago. I’ve decided to take him one battle at a time. Right now we’re working on eating.”

Draco frowns, “Let me guess. Eating, sleeping, lying to his friends, sneaking around, nightmares, and then his inevitability to stay out of trouble.”

“You do have a marvelous brain, don’t you?” Is the dry response.  

They go back to working in a comfortable silence, but there is a new heavy weight on Draco’s chest. On the plus side, now he knows for certain that he’s not the only one worried grey about the sleeping boy in front of them.

“How do you do it?” Granger asks after a while. “I mean, you and I are competing for top student, you’re doing extra Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, taking night watches to make sure Harry doesn’t get killed- and that’s impossible by itself- not to mention you’re having to keep all this hidden from your parents and you’ve still found time to help us try to save Buckbeak. I’m only taking twelve classes and-”

“You’re taking twelve classes?! Merlin! No wonder you always look so dead inside!”

“Nonsense, Draco, that’s just a side effect of having a friend who’s always on some sort of suicide mission.”

Draco makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “Draco, huh? You do realize Weasley is going to have a heart attack when he hears me calling you Hermione.”

She grins a little too evil-like and he decides that she needs more sleep than any of them.

“I dare you to. That would serve him right for acting like such a dick.”

“A curse word? From a calm, goody two-shoes like you?”

The glint in her eye is only a little crazed, “I haven’t been calm since I first laid my eyes on those two idiots. It’s a wonder my hair hasn’t gone grey yet.”

Draco decides then and there that Hermione Granger is one of the best Gryffindors to ever walk the Earth, even if it is because he can tell she also suffers from Potter Headaches at a frequent rate. He’d have to bring her some of his potions their next meeting. As a sign of their new friendship, of course, not because he secretly fears what she would be like if she did snap one of these days. 

----------

Hermione’s snap comes two days before the final Quidditch match of the season, the one that determines who wins the cups. Finals are only three weeks away, and he’d honestly been expecting this since she came in their abandoned classroom raving like a howler about how pointless Divination is. As much as Draco and Pansy had agreed with her, it still scared the rest of their merry crew enough that Weasley didn’t even glare at them. Blaise had actually given Draco some Calming Draught to add to his Headache Potion the day after.

News of her walk out spread through the school like wildfire and if he wasn’t scared of her when he saw her study plan for finals, he definitely was now.

“I think it’s impressive.” Pansy informs them on the way back to the dorm.

“Darling, you think anything with two legs has the potential to be impressive.”

They both roll their eyes at Blaise, “You say that like you’re not terrified of her too.”

“I think it’s funny….when her rage isn’t directed at me, of course.”

Given the upcoming match, Draco, Harry, and Weasley hadn’t been able to attend their meetings as much, which left the other three in close quarters where they apparently got along just fine. In all honesty, between his studies and practices, Draco was so tired he didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of it.

And when Harry snatches the Snitch right of his hand, he can’t even bring himself to care about losing the cup because it means he can finally get some fucking sleep. The six of them agree not to meet the night of the final game. Draco takes a long, hot shower, puts on his most comfortable pajamas, locks his curtains, and sleeps until Blaise’s shouting wakes him up.

“Are you alive?! Pansy is three seconds away from cutting your curtains open!”

Somehow, during his sleep, he’d managed to swallow a wad of cotton. That or his mouth was insanely dry. Either way, he really doesn’t feel like having his bed curtains ruined so he rips them open to see Blaise’s stupid smiling face. He seriously considers hexing it off, but then his friend hands him a glass of water.

“You’ve been asleep since Saturday.”

Crabbe and Goyle peer over his shoulder, relief flooding through them.

“What day is it?” Merlin, he sounds like he’s been smoking for the past seven years.

Blaise, the bastard, ruffles his hair, “Monday, dearest. We all thought you died, and we would’ve let you sleep it off but Snape said that if you missed one more Potions class he’d personally skin you.”

Oh fuck…..”How long do I have?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Draco ignores his friends laughing at the panic on his face, swearing up and down that he loves Blaise with all his heart as the boy gets Draco’s things ready for the day so he can throw on some robes and make himself presentable. 

“Really, the love of my life, I would be lost without you. A shining star in my darkness, the keeper of my-”

“We get it, doll,” Blaise rolls his eyes but Draco takes delight in the flush on the taller boy’s cheeks, “I’m your moon and stars, just remember that when I don’t save you from Pansy’s wrath.”

Pansy and Hermione make a terrifying sight when they team up together. 

He’s not sure who grabs him and shoves him into the empty classroom on his way to dinner, but one moment he and Blaise are talking about dessert options and the next he’s in a room with two angry women, and angry Harry, and an annoyed Weasley. He can feel Blaise thinking ‘I told you so’. 

“Will you stop worrying me sick?!” Pansy throws her arms around his neck. That part isn’t all surprising, but Hermione grabbing his face so she can inspect his face is.

“Your eye bags are gone. Did you finally get some sleep? Pans and I have been going mental, I swear! You’re just as bad as Harry!”

He’s not sure who’s more offended, but Harry still knocks Hermione out of the way to glare at him.

“Where have you been? You lose a Quidditch match and disappear? For two days?!”

“Oh you’re hardly one to talk. Didn’t you sneak out in a school wide lock-down to kill a thousand year old deadly beast last year?”

Draco really expects someone to come in between their glaring contest, but then, to his astonishment, Weasley snorts.

“He’s got you there, mate. I doubt Malfoy actually goes looking for trouble.”

The rest of them don’t have any clue what to do because never in their wildest dreams did any of them ever expect Weasley to say his name without deep hatred. Harry recovers first.

“I do not go looking for trouble! It comes looking for me!”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “I love you, Harry, but you really are like a magnet for bad fortune.”

“And life-threatening situations,” Draco adds. 

“Don’t forget stupid ideas.”

“Or bad decisions.”

Weasley grins at Harry’s protests. “Looks like you’re outnumbered, mate.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” There’s no malice behind his words, and the smile really dampens the whining effect, but it makes Draco laugh. Blaise does a weak impression of it that has them all snickering and for a moment he can breathe easily. 

And then they walk out the door and finals week has started.  

If Draco thought the muggle witch was scary when she was angry, Finals Week Granger was down right nightmare material.

“Don’t fret,” Harry whispers to him during one of their meetings that have somehow started to double as group study sessions, “She’s always like this, although I think the extra classes are wearing her down faster than usual. Normally she’s not in this state until the last day, I’m honestly worried about her.”

There’s too much irony in that last statement for him not to laugh.

He does have to admit that he’s never felt more prepared for exams. Each of them have their own strengths, Harry leads them in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which isn’t surprising. Blaise takes Herbology as his specialty while Pansy breaks down and gives them all a lecture in Transfiguration. Weasley even makes some quips when they’re studying for Care of Magical Creatures, and since he’s playing nice, Draco assists everyone in Charms. When Hermione isn’t having a breakdown, she gives them History of Magic lessons. They’re all too afraid of what will happen if they don’t pay attention to fall asleep. Amazing how effective fear tactics can be. 

Draco does overhear her mumbling about classes he knows are at the same time and briefly wonders how she does it, but given her current state he’s a little too cowardly to ask. 

Day by day, test after test, and he’s finally done. Sure, it’s a little hard not to stare on the last day when Hermione breaks down crying after her DADA exam, but he’s also fairly sure he’s hallucinating seventy-five percent of life, so who’s to say it’s not just a weird lucid dream.

It all passes so quickly they nearly forget about Buckbeak until Draco, along with Crabbe and Goyle, round a corner and see Harry talking to Minster Fudge. Given how pale his scarred friend looks, Draco doesn’t think they’re discussing the weather. He feels sick.

“So they really are going to kill it, then?” Goyle asks.

Draco nods, and to his surprise they each pat him on the back. “Do you want us to go with you?”

After a few seconds it hits him. They knew he would be near when BuckBeak was put down. He’d been ranting and raving about it to all of his friends, and when he wasn’t making sure they were studying, they had been getting an earful too. Before he knows what he’s doing Draco’s nodding and they make their way to the hillside. 

The two share a knowing look, and Crabbe rests his hand on Draco’s shoulder. 

“I know it sucks, Draco, but you couldn’t control it.”

“His death isn’t your fault.” Goyle reminds him.

For a second he’s distracted enough to remember that Goyle actually cares about magical creatures. He had been thrilled to take the class, and Crabbe, while he didn’t love it, he was sensitive to Draco’s feelings.

They stand beside him, just far enough so they can make out the shapes down at Hagrid’s huts. Draco makes a mental note to spend more time with them, he’s sure it will fit into his schedule.

He’s thankful when they link arms with him and turn them away, even if he does feel guilt clawing up his throat when he hears crows flying away after the ax swings.