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Chapter Text

It happened when she decked him in their third year. He'd stood above the grounds, looking down on Hagrid's hovel with Thing 1 & Thing 2, when she descended like a harpy.

Potter and Weasel stopped her as her wand pressed into his throat. It was the first moment he felt fear, actual fear, on the castle grounds. He might have made fun of her parentage and the bushiness of her hair since their first day of classes two years ago, but he wasn’t stupid. Draco knew she was the smartest in their level, the quickest at charms, and a natural at transfiguration. In fact, Draco’s father often pressed him on why he was always tied with Theo Nott for second place to Granger. But at least his father didn’t beat him. 

“Hermione don’t, he’s not worth it!” he heard Weasel cry. 

She must have seen reason…for a moment, because instead of hexing him, the witch decked him square in the jaw. It was the first time anyone had hit him, and as she marched away with fric and frac in her shadow, Draco's eyes widened as her hair, which was actually more curly than bushy now, swayed in the breeze. And to his absolute horror, what blood he didn’t taste rushed south towards a much more delicate region. It took everything in him not to turn red as he ignored Crabbe & Goyle’s whinging and proposed threats of violence as he quickly paced back to the castle and descended into the dungeons to their common room. 

Draco continued to ignore the two as he stalked to their chamber, threw himself on his four-poster bed, drew the luxurious green velvet curtains, cast a minor ward so that no one could approach, and then a silencing charm. 

Breathing heavily, Draco stared at the dark canopy of his bed, blood also ringing in his ears. Slowly, he turned his eyes southwards towards the issue in his trousers. 

“Fuck.” he whispered. His head fell back on his pillow, and he silently prayed that if he ignored it, the sudden attraction that inspired it would go away. 

Draco prayed this prayer for another three years…..

Chapter Text

It was the beginning of the sixth year, and Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She'd felt it on and off since their fourth year. Still, with Harry trying to survive the tournament and Voldemort returning, she didn't have time to focus on eyes wandering along her backside or the way a certain Slytherin kept appearing in her line of sight.

Speak of the devil...

Across the Great Hall, she could see his blond hair shining in the candlelight. She hadn't seen him on the train, but she'd spent most of the journey getting to know the other prefects. 

Dean Thomas had also been chosen from Gryffindor, Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillian from Hufflepuff, Padma Patil and Marcus Belby from Ravenclaw, and Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode from Slytherin. The Head Girl and Boy for the year required that they share a compartment on the journey to foster friendly relations and set expectations for the year. 

By a stroke of luck, Pansy Parkinson, whose dark hair blocked her view of the Malfoy heir's face, moved, and Hermione was gifted a perfect view of the boy. Hermione felt her eyes widen as she took in the change. 

Draco had grown. His face had lost its last bit of pudginess and was now angular, with his silver hair longer, falling into soft waves around his ears, along the nape of his neck, and one stubborn lock that wanted to make its home flopping into his face. His mouth was fuller, and to Hermione's embarrassment, she felt herself clench as she watched his tongue lick custard off the back of his silver dessert spoon. And as if he knew she was watching, his piercing silver eyes wandered from his plate and locked dead on her, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. Heat rushed to her chest, beneath her arms, and settled even more firmly below. She'd been caught staring. Quickly, her eyes returned to her own plate, a minimal effort at preserving her dignity. 

An elbow nudged her side, and she glanced at Ginny, who gave her an odd look.

"Are you alright?" Her eyes raked Hermione's before following the line of sight her best friend had just abandoned. "Hmmm.." she murmured appreciatively, "I saw him on the train. He's gone and got fit." 

"Oh shut up," Hermione mumbled into her crumble. 

"It's such a shame that face and that body are on Malfoy because I'd love to swap places with his broom."

"Ginny!"

"Oh come on, I know you see it too."

"That entire statement was an inside thought." 

Ginny laughed. "I don't hear you disagreeing, Hermione."

"Oh fuck off," she gently elbowed the ginger beauty before dropping her head on her shoulder. A moment of silence passed between the friends before Ginny's soft voice whispered towards her.

"Listen, I know things didn't work out well with you and Ron….maybe you should try and find someone to…distract you…or help you destress?"

"I'm not stressed, Ginevra."

"Sure, and Harry's not being hunted by the Dark Lord." They sat in the silence as the weight of that truth shadowed the moment.

"At the risk of making this quite awkward," Ginny continued, "I know Ron wasn't handling things properly." 

"Ginny Weasley!" Hermione's voice jumped an octave as did her head. Curious glares from their housemates skirted over them as Ginny discreetly muttered a silencing charm. 

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," she spoke plainly now that they had a layer of privacy. "I know you snuck off to his room every night you stayed at the Burrow, but I also know you had to finish yourself off in the bathroom each and every time." 

Hermione stared at the youngest Weasley in horror.

"Silencing charms," Ginny waved her hand around their shared air, "you should try them sometime." For the second time that evening, Hermione felt like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole as she remembered that the loo at the Burrow was right next to Ginny's room.

"Oh Gods," she wailed. "Did everyone else hear as well?"

"No," Ginny smiled and said sweetly, "Because you have a best friend that silenced the loo for you." Hermione passed her a sheepish thank you that followed a fit of shared giggles. 

Stress was common in their circles. Everyone worried about what was going to happen next, not to mention the hormonal changes that seemed to affect their every thought and movement for those in their age group. 

Hermione always thought she would have been older when she lost her virginity, but the sudden return of the Dark Lord had her and Ronald Weasley pawing at each other in the Burrow garden shed, making choices they probably wouldn't have in different circumstances. 

Hermione wasn't unfamiliar with attraction. She'd gone to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum and after a very lovely night of drinking and dancing and ignoring the sullen looks on Harry and Ron's faces, she and Viktor ended the night in the back of one of the enchanted carriages in the courtyard, escaping flushed and covered in love bites just before Snape burst open on the carriage door, in an attempt to fulfill his chaperone duties.

In the weeks following the ball, she'd snuck off to darker corners of the library with him, their time together a cacophony of heavy sighs and repeated orgasms for Hermione. Viktor Krum had been her first, and Ronald Weasley her second. And now she had an itch that Ronald couldn't scratch, and in these dark times, Hermione needed all the joy and relief she could get. 

Suddenly feeling brave, she allowed her eyes to wander back to the Slytherin table and immediately regretted her decision. Draco was no longer facing her, but completely turned sideways in his place at the table, mouth syphoned to Astoria Greengrass. Hermione watched in shock as no one from their table seemed bothered by this outward display of intimacy or the fact that Draco seemed to be eating the girl's face off. 

From across the hall, Hermione could clearly see that Draco knew what he was doing. His fingers curved gently but firmly around the witch's jaw, tilting her head in the way that pleased him most. Hermione felt a familiar ache settle in her core. Her shock must have registered to her housemates because other Gryffindors followed her stare and were soon gasping and standing to watch the Slytherin prince tongue the very eligible and beautiful Greengrass girl.

Much to her dismay, Ginny again offered an opinion. 

"I suppose in the dark you could pretend he was someone else." Her green eyes glued to the couple. A beat of silence passed between them before Ginny stood.  

"Where are you going?" she asked, "McGonagall hasn't dismissed us yet!"

"I'm not a first year Hermione, I know my way to the tower." Ginny's eyes flitted over to the Slytherin table once more before an anticipatory smirk covered her freckled face. "And I fully intend to get a wank in before everyone else goes to bed."

"What happened to the merits of silencing charms!" Hermione looked on in shock at her friend's brazenness.

Ginny rolled her eyes and waved a hand. "They're useful for sure, but the finish always feels just a tad less satisfactory." With that, the youngest of the Weasley clan stepped over their shared bench and flounced out of the Great Hall.

Hermione looked around to see if anyone else caught the end of their conversation and found herself quite alone. Harry was a few Gryffindors down, staring at Ron as the youngest Weasley son continued to pile desserts onto his plate. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Harry smiled at her, brotherly as ever.

In the wake of her distancing herself from her intimacy with Ron, an awkwardness had settled over their trio, and Harry hadn't chosen Ron, but he recognized that the brash boy needed more time and attention to get over what he must have considered a personal slight. There had been times in their friendship where Hermione felt that it was really just Harry and Ron, and Hermione was just there to fill in the blanks. But Harry, more often than not, saw her insecurity and never stopped reassuring her that his love and loyalty to Ron was equal to his love and loyalty to her. He respected her in a way Ron didn't seem capable of and had, on more than one occasion, thanked her for the countless ways she made life better by simply existing.

Hermione's eyes briefly flitted back towards the crime scene at the Slytherin table and felt her stomach drop ever so slightly when she took in Draco and Astoria's missing forms. They'd left the Great Hall. Hermione looked around the hall, trying to compose herself internally. Why should she care? Malfoy hated her. Their last interaction had been her punching him in third year after the prat laughed at Buckbeak's fate. But something in her was saddened. Something in her was also threatening to snap. She was wired. And as McGonagall took to the podium to call the Welcome Feast to an end and instructed the Heads of Houses to guide their new students to the dorms, Hermione knew Ginny had had the right idea. 

Chapter Text

Draco opened his eyes as thin light peaked through the magically, fortified stained glass window next to his bed. Since first year, he’d always chosen the bed closest to the window, where he could see some of the life in the Black Lake.

Draco once again found himself in the predicament that first occurred after Granger punched him. With a frustrated groan he lifted his duvet and looked at what had come from whatever dream of the girl had danced through his head. He swallowed thick, feeling his heart pound as he considered handling the situation. But Draco had a rule: he was absolutely not allowed to personally relieve himself of what Hermione Granger inspired. He knew it would be a slippery slope if ever let himself succumb to fantasies and hours behind his charmed curtains. 

Sure, Draco got off once or twice a week with witches in the castle, it was only normal. And did he sometimes find himself imagining Astoria’s blond hair or Pansy’s black hair as the familiar curls and ringlets of a certain Gryffindor princess? Yes. Definitely. Did Draco often charm himself to not speak her name when these eager witches got on their knees for him or the few times he brought one back to his charmed bed? Every. Single. Time. 

The sound in his shared dorm was still quiet and so Draco, ever stealthy, threw on his dressing gown and made for the bathroom to start his morning with an extremely cold shower. 

As the cold water dripped down his back, he couldn’t help but think how they had been at school nearly three weeks; he'd hardly seen Granger except for the odd sighting in the Great Hall. As their classes grew more advanced, and longer in duration, it was becoming common to find three houses in one class, a ratio of their one professor to around thirty students and there always seemed to be a barrier house between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He did turn up to class early once hoping to see the swot, but it just so happened it was a day where she was held up on prefect duties and so Draco missed the opportunity to sit in a barely filled classroom staring at her perfect ass. And of course he couldn’t turn to look at her when she finally walked in.

Somewhere in Draco’s fucked up head, he convinced himself that he was better than some of the other boys gaping at Granger because he developed a closeted fondness and attraction to her before she filled out. She'd gotten a little taller, but was still a few inches shorter than Draco. Her chest had filled out to more than an ample handful, swooped down into a soft waist, wide hips, and a bum that must have required a charm to get her skirt to lay smoothly. He didn’t often allow himself to picture her naked, but he just knew she had that delightful crinkle around her midsection when she curled up to sleep.

Draco looked down at his flagging cock and quickly averted his eyes to the ceiling knowing the longer he stared down at it the more he would picture Granger there in the shower with him on her knees. 

Soon Draco found himself dressed and wandering towards the Great Hall. There were a few other students, he wasn’t the earliest bird, but it was the best time to grab breakfast without the incessant noise of the younger students in the incessant flutter of owls. 

From his place at the Slytherin table Draco poured steamed milk into his earl grey and carved small chunks of a green apple with a knife. Movement by the doors of the hall caught his eye and Draco paused in chewing his bite of apple. 

Granger.

There was an air of relaxation in her shoulders as she walked steadily to her place at the lion table. She hadn’t yet noticed him so Draco took a moment to drink her in. Hair slightly mussed from sleep and from what he could tell her face was slightly puffy, particularly her mouth. Her robes were thrown over her arm affording him the perfect view of a fitted uniform shirt tucked into her skirt. Salazar her breasts had grown. The buttons on her shirt strained a smidge with every movement. 

Hermione's seat faced his and Draco watched as she made her breakfast choices: yoghurt, toast with strawberry conserve, and coffee with milk. The girl was so into her book that she didn’t notice him. 

“So that’s what got you so distracted.” Draco looked up in surprise and found Nott sliding into the spot next to his.

“What are you on about Theo,” he mumbled into his tea.

“Don’t think I haven't noticed you scanning rooms, always looking for something.” Theo leaned in briefly, “Or should we say someone.”

“I have no clue what you’re on about.” Draco sighed, rubbing his eye and effecting the practiced annoyance particular to their pureblood circles.

“Yes, well it seems that the object of your attention also thinks you’re quite interesting.”

Draco eyes, which were trained on anything but Granger, shot directly to her, making contact with hers. A flush filled her face and Draco fought every bit of his biology and looked away, pretending he didn’t see her. 

“Oh don’t give her a hard time on my account, Drake.” Theo gloated. “I too have noticed the merits of a certain Gryffindor.” A pause. “In fact I’m sure she’s the reason for several silencing spells on our level.” Another pause. “Although I’m pretty sure Blaise just can’t be arsed, because I’d bet all the gold in my family vault that I heard a very familiar name over and over again behind his curtains aft—”

“Give me your rotations.” Draco turned to Theo and demanded without room for question.

Theo narrowed his eyes at his best mate, scanning his face before-- “Sharing confidential information about castle administrative procedures is a grave violation of trust,” Theo said matter of factly. “However, if I accidentally misplaced my schedule or it was stolen in the Great Hall, I could hardly be held responsible.” Theo finished swallowing a bite of toast before sliding his copy of their Arithmancy book towards Draco. 

Draco blinked and looked down at the volume, clearly covered in Theo’s extensive annotations. 

“Why yes Draco, you can borrow my Arithmancy text,” Theo now said a smidge louder “Just return it before class.” With that, Theo rose from the table and sauntered out of the hall, a smile playing around his mouth. 

Draco’s confusion cleared as he flipped open the book and found nestled in the cover, a charmed, ever updating schedule of the prefect’s rotations. 

And it looked like Granger was on duty that night along one of his favorite corridors. Draco's heart beat a mite faster as a small plan began to form.

Chapter Text

The day had passed without incident. Hermione firmly put the moment she and Malfoy had made eye contact at breakfast out of her mind. She had other things to worry about. She needed to update her study plan for the year, not think about Malfoy’s long fingers placing bits of apple on his tongue. She needed to do some research with Harry on an obscure piece of information Dumbledore dropped into the poor boy’s lap, not what it would have been like to sit next to Malfoy, legs touching, his hand on…or maybe inching up her thigh as he sipped his tea.

Hermione blinked. When did her daydreams about the boy become so domestic. Quiet breakfasts were for friends and lovers, not two students on opposing sides of the castle. But if she was being honest, she’d taken a page out of Ginny's book and gone back to her dorm after everyone had come down for breakfast and ridden her fingers till she cried.

Ginny was right, it was so much better without a silencing charm.

It had briefly crossed her mind to find comfort with one of the other students. Unfortunately there was no one else in their year who passed muster and within their house, the only older students who remotely made her eyes widen happened to be a pair of twins with the same last name as her previous romantic partner. 

Hermione knew it was crossing a line that she even looked at them but late one night after sneaking out of Ron’s room to head to the loo, she ran into them into the hall, shirtless, leaving said loo after a quick pre-bed shower. The twins had come in late from doing gods knows what. And yes, they showered together. The twins did everything together. She’d heard in passing during fourth year from a very satisfied witch in the year above that the twins shared everything. And much to Hermione’s shame, that had been her inspiration that night, locked away in the Weasley loo, desperately seeking some kind of post-coital release. 

Dinner in the Great Hall had ended an hour ago and Hermione had begun her rounds solo. She was supposed to be partnered with Belby but he’d suddenly come down with an odd rash and was sequestered in the hospital wing. So Hermione walked alone along her assigned corridors. She liked this route, it was quieter and although she was grateful for the privilege that came with holding a prefect’s badge, it was nice to drop her guard. 

Her footsteps were the only sound in the dimmed halls and so she began to hum to herself. And then she heard it, faint at first- the sound of someone crying. It wasn’t terrible their breath had that choppy cadence that came with struggling to breathe through tears. The sound grew louder as she neared the corner where a small classroom sat closed. Pulling her wand, she cracked the door and stuck her head inside. 

“Hello?” she called out into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything at first but could detect movement at the front of the room. 

“Hello, who’s there?” she tried again. “Lumos” she muttered, bringing forth a small ray of light. Hermione nearly dropped her wand and her heart began to race. There at the front of the classroom was one Draco Malfoy, leaning back against the professor's desk, legs spread wide as a witch, which one Hermione didn’t know, choked on his cock. 

No one was hurt. No one needed her help. 

A witch was on her knees, in front of Draco Malfoy, crying as her mouth greedily slurped down the pureblood heir’s length. Hermione felt her knees shake and a steady thrum in her core. 

And then the bastard started talking.

“Just like that,” he whispered, one hand around the girl's jaw and the other in her hair, silver signet ring catching the sparse light. “You’re so good for me.” he gasped out, his silver hair falling down around his face as he looked down at the witch in front of him. Hermione continued to stare as he whispered something she couldn’t hear. Draco started moving, holding the witch in place while he slowly pushed his cock in and out of her waiting mouth. 

The pressure in Hermione’s core began to build as she watched the object of her recent desire fuck his pleasure into someone else. 

The reality of the situation suddenly became clear, and Hermione made to move discreetly from the room when she realized her limbs were locked. Again, she tried to move, but her body wouldn’t budge. And then the horror of it all hit her - what Draco had muttered, but she couldn’t hear - a body binding spell. And as if he registered that she’d become aware, Draco’s eyes left the witch in front of him and locked dead on her as he continued to thrust in and out. 

His eyes were heavy, mouth slightly agape as his breath came out in heavy pants. A flush covered his pale skin and small wisps of his silver hair stuck to sweat around his neck. His tie undone and askew laid over an unbuttoned shirt that gave her a clear view of Malfoy's toned chest and a thin silver chain holding a dragon pendant, which bounced ever so slightly as he moved.

“Do you like that?” he whispered to the girl, eyes locked on Hermione. Fuck. She thought silently. 

“Where do you want it?” his eyes still on her. The girl on the stone floor grabbed the back of Draco’s thighs enthusiastically and a dangerous grin spread over his face. “You know better than that,” he bit out, amusement covering his ragged voice. “Quick, before I choose for you: face or tits.” His breath was coming more quickly and heavy now. Ragged, so ragged. The girl quickly ripped open her shirt, buttons flying everywhere and Draco immediately pulled out of her mouth, and placed her hand on his cock making her stroke him to finish on her breasts.

Hermione felt as if her core was going to break in half if something or someone didn’t touch her soon.

As he panted heavily, the witch spoke. “Why can’t I swallow you?”

“It’s the rules.” he murmured, biting his lip and pulling her up off the floor.

“Well, are there rules about returning the favor?” she sighed. And instead of responding, Draco swung her around to lay on the edge of the desk and dropped down to his knees before her spread thighs and a ragged moan tore from the witch's lips as his mouth descended on her core.

Hermione didn’t know what happened but suddenly she was on the floor, outside the classroom, the door closed in her face. Movement now accessible, she scrambled to her feet and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Sweat prickled her arms and the back of her neck. 

What the fuck. He'd kicked her out. 

Hyperaware of the river in her underwear and her nipples, very visible through her uniform shirt, she raced down the corridor, found another abandoned classroom and slipped her hand down her skirt. She came quickly imagining a blond head pressing her against the door where she now stood, sucking and licking at her clit until she came. It took everything in her not to scream his name. 

On what felt like a walk of shame back to the tower, arms folded across her chest just in case there was any lingering evidence, Hermione couldn’t help but think that was indeed well and truly fucked.

Chapter Text

Later That Night in Gryffindor Tower

Hermione lay in her bed, listening to the soft voices of her fellow dorm mates. A book nestled in the curve of her stomach went unread as she stared at the dying embers in their fireplace.

Frustration of several kinds and fear she refused to acknowledge had settled in her body over the past several months. Their world wasn’t safe, and she knew that eventually they’d have to stop being children and face the dangers of their world head-on. 

In reality, she already had. Just a few months fresh from being legal, there was a cost to standing by Harry’s side - but it was a price she was willing to pay over and over for a boy who had no other choice but to fight and respected her knowledge and talents. Harry might have led the way, wand ever raised, charging into the belly of whatever beast needed conquering. Still, her mind organized their routes, filed away pieces of information, and forever seemed to have a backup plan when something went amiss. 

Hermione was tired of thinking. A tear rolled down her face as she thought about how good it would feel not to think. To let someone else make plans and take care of her. 

In some ways, that’s what she had been looking for in her intimacy with Ron—someone who would just take charge and just let her feel. And technically, Ron did that, but he missed the part where she was supposed to finish as well. His endless groaning of her name into her neck did nothing for her. He was also a bit clumsy and uncoordinated, and Hermione had no doubt that with time and practice, he’d become a decent lover - but she had absolutely no interest in teaching Ron yet another thing. 

Ron might’ve taken her virginity, but Viktor had been very instructive and generous with his orgasms - she knew what the beginning to good sex should feel like. 

Hermione wanted someone with whom she could turn off her brain. Mindless. Boneless. A fucking rag doll for all she cared. 

Her mind drifted back to Draco. He hadn’t been cruel to her in ages. Now that she thought about it, the last time he said anything untoward was in third year. Yes, he was nearby when Parkinson taunted her about her appearance, and Flint called her slurs, but he didn’t engage. So what in the hell was his deal tonight?

The more she thought, the more something bothered her. And then she began to think back, remembering that feeling of someone watching her. Not in an unnerving way, just observing her. A charged observance, one could say. The kind where someone examines you when you’re not looking, admiring. It only ever happened at school, mainly in the joint house classes.

A memory of the Yule Ball suddenly resurfaced, and she remembered that as she processed in on Viktor’s arm, she spotted him standing with the other Slytherins. But while some of them expressed severe annoyance at her elevation, Draco’s face was guarded and bored, but his eyes were angry. 

And then she found herself thinking about the previous year when Umbridge ran rampant and had Slytherin patrolling the halls like a junior Death Eater squad. Draco and a few others, like his friend Theo, and even that Zabini, looked so bored and put out, like they’d been forced into it. And Hermione thought it strange back then that there had been times when Draco simply pretended not to see her wandering the halls, after hours, on the way to DA practice. 

The more Hermione thought, the more she began to piece together that maybe…just maybe…Draco Malfoy was attracted to her. 

Hermione sat up in bed as the pieces fell into place.

That blond bastard had been putting on a show since the first night in the Great Hall. He must have seen the flicker of interest in her eyes then. And then, for reasons that were entirely irrational, Hermione felt anger surge in her belly. 

He wanted her to see him fucking someone else. He knew she wished that had been her. He was goading her.

The more delicate frustration alive in her bones became irate. She needed something badly, and he was giving it to everyone but her. That final thought was enough to drive her over the edge. Hot angry tears poured down her face as the chatter in the room dwindled into silence. 

As Hermione let her tired mind and the tension in her body find temporary reprieve in sleep, she felt a small piece of her heart ache. But even in her knackered state, she knew it was best to ignore it.

Also, Later That Night in the Slytherin Dungeons

Draco ignored the feeling of dissatisfaction that settled in his stomach. To be clear, the lovely witch he’s spent an hour with in that dusty classroom was great, and Draco had more than returned the favor for sharing her talents with him. But he wanted her. 

He knew he was in for a rough night, the memory of her watching, eyes glassy, face flushed, breath short, as he railed another witch bright behind his own eyes. It’s what he’d wanted, right? To show Granger what she was missing – what she couldn’t have. 

A silent truth settled in Draco’s mind, the one he’d been avoiding since the moment he realised he’d never met or would meet another witch as fascinating and brave as her. Because that’s truly what had caught his attention. The Muggle-born princess had drawn her wand on the one boy whose father had more power than the rest of the purebloods at the school combined. And this was after he’d gotten Hagrid’s pet chicken executed on account of Draco’s stupidity.

He’d remember that moment forever. 

All the things Parkinson has said since first year didn’t matter. Even back then, her hair had begun to fall into more neat curls, her teeth had aligned to fill out her mouth, and, more importantly, Draco, for the first time, got a good look at Hermione Granger as she stared him down from close proximity. Hermione Granger was adorable. Her eyes were brown like hot cocoa, eyebrows full and arched – enough to give any pureblood girl a run for their galleons, and at the corner of her mouth was a tiny freckle almost in the shape of a star.

 It wasn’t that she couldn’t have Draco. Draco couldn’t have her. Nothing about their lives, their social positioning, even the war he was sometimes allowed to ignore being at Hogwarts, would allow Draco Malfoy to make Hermione Granger his future. He was doomed to always look at her and want her from across enemy lines. To avoid her in conflicts and maybe fail in his tasks if it meant she went unharmed, like last year, when Umbridge had him and the boys patrolling the halls. Theo had shot him a curious glance when he told them just to wander and not take the job too seriously - that really what were Granger and Potter going to do that could really cause that much troub

Still, as Draco lay in bed, his head turned to watch the dark movements in the lake, the sound of rustling from his immediate left caught his attention. Theo. 

A quick flick of his wand and his curtains parted to find his best mate stripping out of his trousers and changing into his pajama pants. 

“Just getting in?” Draco observed. 

“Mhmm,” Theo hummed, not giving up on any information. Draco watched his friend a beat longer, eyes narrowing as he noticed a fresh bite on his neck.

“Who was it this time?”

“Now why should I tell when you can’t admit your attraction to –” Theo stopped as he saw Draco’s wand suddenly pointed at him. Draco craned his neck to see if any of their housemates were also awake, Theo suddenly realising Draco’s fear. Silently, Draco waved Theo over to his bed, and the tall brunet flopped into bed next to him as Draco cast a silencing spell.

“Sorry,” Draco mumbled. 

“Don’t apologise, it was the dumbest thing I could say out loud down here.” A slight nod from Draco confirmed this unfortunate fact.

“So you like her.” Theo continued, keeping the witch's name out of the air. Draco sighed and covered his eyes with his arm. “Oh,mate, you’ve got it bad.”

“I don’t know what to do with this.” Draco began sighing heavily. “Relationships have always seemed contractual in our world. I can’t even tell if my parents like each other.” Theo nodded.  

“I could date Pansy all these years here and still be contracted to marry Astoria at the end of it all,” he continued. “So what do you do when you actually meet someone different, and they don’t fit the mold?” 

“You’re afraid."

“Terrified, Theo. But Salazar, I want her. Just her.”

“And…this is why you needed my rotations?”

Draco groaned. “I don’t even know what I’ve done.”

“You didn’t...hurt her did you, Drake?”

“No, I don’t think so. She seemed...intrigued, really.” Theo nodded, letting the topic fizzle out for the time being. 

“So,” Draco said, a curious edge to his voice, “how long have you been sneaking off to see Weaselette?” Theo’s head quickly whipped around in shock, and he punched Draco in the arm.

“How did you know!” he demanded. 

“There are very, very few gingers at this school, Theodore,” Draco sighed and reached to pull something from the shoulder of Theo’s gray Slytherin jumper. “And only one of them has hair this long.” The two stared at the evidence in Draco’s hand before falling into a fit of muffled laughter.

Chapter Text

Hermione actively avoided Draco Malfoy. She cornered Harry as he left the boys' dorms the next morning and demanded the map. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, unnerved by her abruptness. 

“Yes, quite. I just need it for my rounds.”

“Oh!” he blinked thoughtfully. “I suppose that would make them easier.”

She nodded with a stiff smile, reluctant to offer more. Harry dashed back upstairs and soon returned, handing her the old, folded parchment. Together, they walked down to breakfast and found room near Ron and Ginny. 

Hermione made sure to sit with her back to Malfoy; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her face this morning. She ignored the curious glance Ginny sent her way as Hermione settled onto the bench across from her rather than her usual place beside her. Wordlessly, she tucked in her food, tuning out the conversation around her. Ron sat at her side today. She could feel the hint of awkward rolling off of him, but much to her surprise, he offered her a slight nod and turned back to his bowl of sugary cereal.

After a few more glances in her direction, Ginny leaned forward. “Hermione, why is Malfoy staring a hole into the back of your head?”

“How would I know?” she murmured, flipping through a textbook with feigned interest. Ginny’s eyes narrowed for a moment before making eye contact with the brown-haired boy next to Draco, who gave her a discreet smile. Their morning meal passed with more silence than conversation, each Gryffindor lost in their private thoughts.

Hermione continued to feel a particular pair of silver eyes on her throughout the day, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of engaging. They shared three classes that day, and in each, she positioned herself in his line of sight despite house division. In Potions, she took a place at the end of a row in the aisle.

Earlier, she’d stopped in the girls’ loo and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Staring back at her was a seventeen-year-old woman who’d seen more death than she ought. Shoulder-length curly hair framed an oval face with chocolate eyes and a small freckle near her mouth. As a child, her mother would call it her hidden kiss - visible to all but available only to the one person who understood her and loved her the most. Before she learned of her magical ability, Hermione dreamed of a prince who would come and sweep her off her feet. As she grew into her magical abilities, her prince morphed into a gallant and intelligent wizard. 

And now at seventeen, all Hermione Granger wanted was to be seen and felt. To drop her guard and know that the person, her person, would love her from now till the stars fell from the sky. To know she was loved and desired for everything she was and everything she wasn't. To be loved for her frizzy hair in the morning, and her forever need to ask questions and understand. Hermione wanted to be consumed and commanded. To have someone who would tell her what to do because she was tired of doing for everyone. Hermione wanted to rest. 

It was there in that bathroom that she examined the more pronounced portions of her body and wondered what parts of her were the most pleasing. She saw the slight strain in the buttons on her uniform shirt and how her skirt, which was already charmed to encompass her ample backside, skirted a few inches above her knees. 

It had taken Hermione a long time to love herself. For so long she had heard the words of peers that made her feel less—taunting about her hair, her teeth, her mind…her blood. But now, as she stood in the hazy mirror of the fifth-floor prefect’s bathroom, Hermione smiled. She’d survived and would continue to do so. She was alive, and though the hours seemed dark and scary, Hermione wasn’t made to cower or shrink herself for other people. 

And maybe that was also what made her angry at Draco Malfoy. This boy. This pureblood boy, who could have anything or anyone he wanted, might possibly want her. And rather than make amends, or talk to her, or proposition her even, he’d rather humiliate her and taunt her in the way that made her feel the most vulnerable. 

Hermione knew herself. She was comfortable with herself. And so with full awareness of what she was doing, she charmed her shirt tighter so that there was a gape in the buttons, and her skirt two inches shorter.

In Potions, Hermione stood at her aisle station, chopping, grinding, and stirring, ever aware of the heated glare of two silver eyes following the movement of her skirt, as she stood on her toes to crush beetles and reached above to grab tools to help her stir the contents of her cauldron. 

She found herself setting many of her implements out of reach on the large shared table so that she had to lean over the span of weathered wood to reach. She knew Draco wasn’t the only one to notice her. Many eyes followed her during that period, but Hermione ignored them all and focused on the task at hand. 

Harry stopped by her station at the end of class with an odd expression. 

“Yes Harry?” she murmured as she penned a final annotation.

“Just checking on you.” he mumbled, eyes skirting around the room, taking in the attention directed her way.

“Why?” she looked him square in the face, unblinking. Harry stared back, and she could see a slight blush rise in his cheeks. A thread of guilt wormed its way into Hermione’s conscience. Harry was just being Harry, loving her in the best way he knew how - by checking in. He must have sensed the oddness in the behavior of the other male students around them. And rather than comment on her attire, he’d rather talk to her.

“I–” he began before Hermione cut him off, putting him out of his misery.

“Would you help me tidy up?” she asked, grabbing her robes, thrown over the chair, and putting them on. Harry gave her a small smile and nodded. 

Later that night, after careful rounds aided by the ever-helpful Mauraders, Hermione lay in bed, staring at the crimson canopy of her bed. A thought sprang into her head, and without pausing, she quickly penned a letter and ran to the owlry. There, after hours, she stood in the cool October night, watching an owl depart with her letter bound for Bulgaria.

Chapter Text

It had been three weeks of Hermione Granger ignoring him. Not that they ever interacted previously, but Draco noticed an advanced iciness in the girl. She didn’t afford him easy glimpses of her face, and when they did happen to be in closer proximity, she avoided his gaze with the discipline of an Unspeakable. 

Draco knew he was getting what he deserved, but Hermione was clearly capable of antagonizing him as well. Not only was her clothing a little more snug than usual, but Draco had to employ every ounce of his self-control after watching her climb a small ladder in Potions to retrieve more ingredients. 

It was borderline indecent how good she looked, and much to his frustration, he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Her pleated skirt flirted with her lower thighs, and as she stood at the top of the ladder and reached for one of Snape’s well-labeled jars, Draco caught just a whisper of the place where her thighs met her deliciously well-formed ass. Draco had had so many detailed imaginings about Hermione Granger’s backside and what he’d do with it if she ever let him touch her. 

Theo was also being a right cunt about it. “Feeling alright Drake?” he murmured over his cauldron, not bothering to focus on the minx at the front of the class. 

“Why are you asking?” Draco deadpanned.

“Your potions gone a funny color, mate.” And true enough, when Draco looked down, his potion was indeed off - a shock to anyone who knew of the young Malfoy heir’s proficiency. Granger might have been first in every class, but Draco was always the most successful in Potions. He was truly a natural, something that often brought his father extreme pride and made his brooding godfather, Snape, offer a rare expression of satisfaction. 

“Fuck.” he whispered into the air. Draco glanced at the instructions and analyzed where he’d gone wrong. He’d let the last ingredient brew too long, and now he required ingredients not on the list to fix it. Without a second thought, he stalked to a different corner of the room, scanned a row of unmarked jars, and returned with what he needed. Draco’s fingers flew as he quickly chopped and crushed the additives and sprinkled them into the boiling pot. And very soon, his potion was back on track and reaching completion. As Draco stirred the final ingredients and shuttered the flame on his cauldron, he breathed a subtle sigh of relief. He’d never fucked a potion before. 

Draco let a small smile slip through as a feeling of pride settled into his chest at his quick save. He truly enjoyed potions and reveled in having a talent come so naturally. In his heart, he had a small dream of owning an apothecary and brewing the most wonderful things - spending his days experimenting and inventing. But that was plebian. Draco knew that no matter what, his future was a lordship and the continuation of his family name. 

His eyes briefly flicked around the room, gauging everyone else’s progress, and stuttered for a moment when they landed on his godfather. Snape sat at the desk at the front of the room, shrewd eyes observing all, and currently, they were honed in on Draco, slightly narrowed and analyzing.

Draco felt his heartbeat race for a moment, knowing that expression, Severus Snape was not altogether pleased. 

As he circled the room, giving feedback on everyone’s assignment, he paused when he reached Draco’s cauldron.

“See me after class Draco,” he intoned without bothering to comment on Draco’s work. Next to him, Draco could feel Theo stiffen. It wasn’t uncommon for Snape to report back to their fathers on their grades and behavior. And while Draco often had nothing to worry about, Theo consistently worried that any public slip-up on his part would result in another broken bone or concussion. 

However, Draco had the sneaking suspicion that Snape knew of Nott Sr.'s sadism and sang Theo’s praises. Even his own father offered on numerous occasions to have Theo at their manor if he was too “troublesome” for Nott to deal with. Draco distinctly remembered the time his mother had convinced Lucius to have the elder Nott over for expensive brandy and several courses, all to get the man to allow Theo to live with them. Lucius has couched the entire idea as a need for Draco to toughen up more, and that having Theo around would have a significant influence. But Nott Sr. countered that idea and offered instead for Draco to take up residence in Nott Manor. That idea was quickly rejected, and no further discussion was ever held about the matter.

Draco glanced at Theo and offered a small smile. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered.

Nearly forty minutes later, the class had cleared out, and Draco was left alone with the potions master. 

“Two things, Draco,” he began smoothly. “I suppose you know I’ve been assigned to assist you in the task you were given over the summer.” He took Draco’s silence as a yes. “If you should find everything too daunting, I will do what’s necessary to protect you and aid you in your task.”

Draco felt his knees weaken. Snape spoke of things he wished didn’t exist. In fact, Draco spent most of his time at Hogwarts trying to pretend the war outside their castle was a dream. Dissociation had become second nature to him, and when he wasn’t avoiding expectations and rules, he was trying to find the light. And that’s when Hermione Granger’s wide smile and bright eyes often popped into his dreams. 

“And last, while you still are the most talented potions student I’ve had in years, do try not to let the whiff of an unsuitable girl distract you from the Tasks. At. Hand.” His last three words came through gritted teeth. 

Draco felt anger surge in his belly. Snape’s words were a cold bucket of water - a reminder that the brilliant girl was not for him. He met his godfather’s eyes head-on, and for a moment, he saw them soften.

“Draco,” his voice dropped to what could only be described as Snape’s version of a delicate whisper. “I am not entirely inexperienced in how it feels to…admire someone.” 

Draco felt a warm spread across his neck and up to his ears. This was mortifying.

“But I warn you,” he continued. “If you find this interest more than a passing fancy, you would do well to bury it.” Steel entered Draco’s eyes, and Snape responded in kind. “Now is not the time to put anything…delicate in danger.” he finished. 

Draco hated that he immediately understood the sense in Snape’s words. Draco's attraction to  Hermione was a problem for her safety and even his own. His father would only yell and curse at him, the Dark Lord would kill him - and her. Or maybe make him watch as he killed her. The scenarios of what that monstrosity of a Dark Lord would do were endless. And so Draco heard the wisdom in his godfather’s words, nodded, and left the room.

Draco immediately went to the Great Hall and slid onto the bench between Theo and Blaise.

“What did he say?” Theo whispered. Draco swiveled a bit of pumpkin juice in a goblet and took a small sip before responding.

“Just a reminder not to fuck things up.”

“Ah.” came Theo’s single-word response.

Suddenly, an onslaught of wings and screeching came pouring into the hall, letters dropping onto tables and parcels into laps. But above them all soared a massive eagle that had all heads craning to watch its descent. And when it did finally land, it landed gracefully and powerfully, next to one Hermione Granger, a rolled piece of parchment wrapped in crimson velvet attached to its leg.

“Salazar, that's a Bulgarian eagle.” he heard Blaise whisper in awe. Blaise had a terrible fascination with birds, much to his mother’s dismay. It wasn’t very pureblood of him. Whispers flowed through the hall as everyone watched her detach the missive and thank the bird with a fat chunk of ham. 

Draco froze mid-bite as he put two and two together. There was only one person Granger knew in Bulgaria. Viktor Krum. 

Chapter Text

Hermione moaned as a blond head nestled between her thighs, slowly licking up the tender flesh, making his way to the place she needed him most.

“Please,” a breathy moan, slid from between her parched lips as she watched him watch her, silver eyes gleaming as his mouth worked magic across her burning skin. 

“I need,” she began to pant as his mouth inched closer to her swollen core. He’d spent nearly half an hour working her up - licking across her neck, biting along her jaw, and down her throat, and avoiding the most tender spots where she most wanted his hands and mouth. 

Now she found herself spread out on the large potions desk where he often worked his best magic, letting him tease and suck at her skin while she begged him for more. 

Large hands gripped her thighs, holding them open, fingers and signet ring digging into her flesh - she couldn’t wait to see the bruises the next day. The thought of his efforts littering her perfect skin made Hermione clench, and more of her arousal became apparent as it slowly slid out of her and down her folds. She wasn’t completely undressed but laid out in the way he liked her best for their impromptu rendezvous – shirt unbuttoned enough so that he could pull her breasts from her bra, skirt hiked up around her waist, and knickers eviscerated. 

“Do you want me here?” he whispered as his warm breath skirted over her core. “Is that what you need?” Hermione nodded, breath coming out even more ragged as she anticipated his mouth closing around her. “Words, Granger,” he taunted. “I want,” he placed a kiss next to clit, “to hear,” another kiss, “you,” kiss, “say it.”

“Yes,” her voice broke on the word. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for more. “I..I want you to–”

“Want or need, Granger?” his eyes flashed in the moonlit room.  

“Need,” she whispered, barely able to breathe. “I need you there,” she finished, desperate tears rolling down her face. And that was all he needed. Warmth flooded Hermione, and her head hit the desk beneath them as his mouth closed around her core. He wasn’t gentle in his assault, alternating between demanding pulls of her bud into his mouth and the steady massage of his tongue. Hermione felt her back arch off the wood when two of his fingers inched their way inside of her. He knew better than to start with one; she lived for him being rough with her. His fingers curled into that sensitive spot inside her worked in tandem with the art he performed on her core, making her thighs shake and her gush around his fingers. 

She was close. She knew it. He knew it. She felt him add more pressure to his fingers and more force behind his mouth. And suddenly, Hermione felt the added sensation of a steady vibration right above her clitoris, radiating from something cold and hard - his signet ring. She knew it before she shot up to look down at it. Look down at him. And there, on one of their potions master’s perfectly scrubbed tables, Hermione Granger screamed out an orgasm as Draco Malfoy masterfully devoured her clitoris and fucked her with his fingers.

Hermione had a secret. Since her run-in with Draco and the nameless witch a few weeks ago, she’d been sneaking into classrooms before her rounds to get herself off. Tonight, she was set to pair with Nott—a first. She’d never really spoken to the boy, but he ran with the other snakes, so she wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d had an hour until she was due to meet him outside the doors of the Great Hall, so she’d slipped into a rarely used classroom on the other end of the castle, and cast a locking charm and a silencing spell. 

Alone in her afterglow, she tried to ignore the intense emptiness and lingering dissatisfaction. A quick scourgify righted the evidence of her latest fantasy, and she quickly left the room and made her way to the Great Hall. 

A few students lingered in the dim room, poring over textbooks and scratching away at parchment. Hermione looked fondly at the younger of these and remembered being that small with Harry and Ron, completing rudimentary assignments and trying not to get lost in the halls and ever-moving staircases. 

“Cute little sprogs, aren’t they?”

Hermione's head swiveled quickly to her right and found the tall brunet Slytherin looking out over the great hall beside her. She blinked, taking in his appearance. Theodore Nott was a very attractive boy, she decided. 

She never really paid much attention to him before, even on the train ride to Hogwarts. Hermione had been much more focused on listening to the Head Boy and Girl’s expectations for the school year and reading through parts of her Arithmancy text. He stood around four inches taller than her average height, and up close, she could see the lightness of his hazel eyes and a small healed cut through his left eyebrow. And now the student in question was turning those eyes on her, a hint of mirth dancing behind them.

Hermione cleared her throat, extended her hand, and said, “Nott”. 

Theo returned the gesture with a slight wince and “Hermione.”

Hermione’s expression softened when she heard the young Nott lord use her first name. She was so used to people in Slytherin calling her Granger, and she’d assumed he would do the same. Their hands still clasped, Theo then asked, “Do you mind calling me, Theodore or Theo, or anything else really? I don’t love being associated with my father.”

A sad smile broke out over Hermione’s face, and she nodded. She thought for a moment, and then her smile widened. “How about Teddy?” she asked shyly.

Theo‘s face lit up like a beacon, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Teddy works perfectly.” They stood a moment more in the glow of their new friendship before heading down one of the castle corridors to begin their duty. 

They walked in silence for a few moments before Theo asked her about her previous rounds. “How’s it been going for you? Mine have been pretty uneventful.”

Hermione took a moment to school her features before responding, Theo missing nothing. “Nothing all that memorable to report.” she replied, and Theo nodded, accepting her account without question. 

“What are the Slytherin dorms like?” Hermione found herself asking abruptly. “Only, I’ve visited Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw before for parties and study sessions, but none of us ever ventures down below…”. Theo cut her a surprised glance before responding thoughtfully. 

“Well, I know they call them dungeons, but that’s really not true,” he began. “Of course, we live below, but everything feels so intricate and sometimes ancient and ornate. The furnishings are soft, and fireplaces in every room to keep us warm. I can’t say what the girls’ dorms look like, but the boys’ dorms have a solid double bed with green curtains.” Hermione nodded as she listened to his descriptions.

“A lot of the walls have these medieval tapestries, and the ceilings are charmed with gold and silver constellations.” A tender smile cracked across Theo’s face.

“Is that your favorite part?” Hermione asked, noticing the fondness in his expression.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice dropping a mite lower. “When we were first years, Drake and I used to look at them to help us sleep.” Hermione felt her heart stutter as Theo casually talked about his best friend. “When second year came, we realised it was a charm strictly for the first years,” he paused. “You see, we don’t get to see the night sky down there.” Another beat. “Drake always found sleep more easily than I did, I think he was actually pretending first year so I wouldn’t be alone.” he continued softly, “Plus his bed is also the one next to the enchanted glass.”

“Enchanted glass?” Hermione cut in, brows crinkling.

“Yeah,” Theo breathed and sighed. “All the other houses can see the sky, but we have views of the Black Lake. Every year, Drake claims the bed next to the glass so he can watch the merpeople and whatever else stops by.” Theo stopped speaking, and Hermione let it stretch, sensing there was more on Theo’s mind. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t desperate to know. 

“So often, I’ve found him just staring out of the glass, lost to the rest of us.” His voice, shrinking to nothing more than a concerned whisper. Hermione tried to ignore the part of her that wanted to ask more, so she pivoted to something more positive. 

“Well I suppose the good thing is that you got over you fear of the dark.” she offered with a small smile. A small blush covered Theo’s face.

“Well,” he began reverently, “A week after our second year, I wandered into our dorm and when I looked up into the canopy of my bed, there was the night sky and constellations.” Hermione felt her heart freeze as a tender smile blossomed over Theo’s face. “I still don’t know how he did it, but he’s done it for me every year since.” Theo finished, blushing. 

Hermione embraced the silence that fell between them. Theo had just shared something so intimate. She really didn’t know what to say, think, or feel.

Truthfully, Hermione had never noticed Malfoy in the way she had recently. She was very aware of his existence since her first days at Hogwarts, but her understanding of him left much to be desired. It wasn’t until recently that she had cause to examine some of his behaviors and wonder if he was everything bad they’d always pegged him to be. 

Of course, there was no excuse for some of the genuinely foul things he’d done in the past, but if Hermione was being fair, there was a change in him after third year. And now, hearing about him in such intimate terms from his best friend made her nervous. Nervous about her perception of people and assumptions based on house classification. What else was she assuming about the people around her because of their names, their friends, their parents? Their world was being ravaged by war, built on dated ideologies and prejudice. And here she was upholding them at the most basic level, in the halls of their school. One could even suggest house division helped sow the seeds of distrust and rivalry that seemed to last a lifetime in their world.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Theo broke their comfortable silence. Hermione cut him an odd look with an awkward smile. 

“Well, since you shared….I suppose.” she conceded. 

“Are you writing Viktor Krum?” Hermione laughed, surprise failing to register on her face. She knew the stir his eagle had caused in the hall that afternoon. Anyone with half a brain and a basic knowledge of falconry would have recognised the breed.

“Yes,” she admitted, her heart beating a smidge faster, which had absolutely nothing to do with her confessing this truth to Theo, Draco’s best mate. “He’ll be in the country on All Hallows’ Eve and wants to see me in Hogsmede,” she flushed. And then, because she was brave and knew there was a possibility that, despite their budding friendship, Theo might share portions of their first conversation with Draco, she continued, “It’s…been a while…” She let the implication hang for a moment before finishing, “since we’ve seen one another and we both thought it would be wonderful to…reconnect.” 

Theo hummed his understanding, but Hermione could see the cogs spinning in his head. For a moment, Hermione panicked, wondering if she’d put him off or overshared, but Theo offered her a friendly smile and said with genuine sincerity, “I hope you find what you’re looking for Hermione.”

They continued their prefect duties in a shared and relaxing silence. Thankfully, no errant students required write-ups or reprimands, and so they were free just to enjoy each other’s company. As their shift drew to a close, Theo insisted on walking her to the staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower.

“Well,” he smiled down at her, “I would be remiss if I didn’t admit how nice that was.” Hermione nodded her agreement. “Watch out, Granger,” he said playfully, “You just might find that I’ll request you as my permanent buddy.”

“That’s against the rules.” she smirked.

“Yes,” he conceded, “But they might just feel inclined when I point out how it promotes house unity.” Hermione had to admit that he had a serious point. Hogwarts was ground zero for many divisions in Great Britain’s wizarding society.

“Well, we’ll see,” she allowed. “Goodnight Teddy.” she said, drawing their evening to its end.

“Goodnight Hermione.” Theo returned, offering one more smile before turning on his heel and walking around the corner.

As Hermione made her way up the staircase, she heard a loud thwack followed by a grunt and a muffled curse coming from the direction Theo had just disappeared. She paused and listened and heard a voice moving faintly away saying, “Teddy! What the fuck was that, mate?” This was swiftly followed by the soft laughter she now knew belonged to one Theodore Nott Jr.. Theodore. Theo. Teddy.

Quickly, Hermione pulled the map out of her pocket - she’d made sure to keep it hidden on their rounds.

There, moving away from the main corridor, towards the dungeons the Slytherin students called home, were Teddy and Draco Malfoy.

Chapter Text

Two Years Prior - The Yule Ball

Draco stared at the glistening floor as countless pairs of feet rushed in the direction of the stage. The planning committee had hired The Weird Sisters to close out the night, and while he appreciated the banger genre of their tunes, he wasn’t altogether in the mindset to participate. 

He’d been in a right mood since the champions' processional. 

Fleur flounced in with an older Ravenclaw, Potter with one of the overly excitable and chatty Patil twins, Diggory with the Cho, whose reserved nature seemed to crack just a bit for the evening's festivities, and then came Krum. 

He’d heard many of the Slytherin girls wonder who the famous Quidditch player might ask and even caught snippets of their differing plans to ensnare his attentions. Still, none of them worked, and the tall brooding captain of Bulgaria’s national team never gave any of them a second glance.

So imagine everyone’s shock when the world's youngest professional seeker walked in with Hermione Granger. Draco’s heart froze when he recognized her curls bouncing as she walked in on Krum’s arm. And then came the nastiness that made his heart pound, anger stirring in his belly. 

Several of his housemates had a multitude of unkind things to say about the Potter’s best friend, and it took everything in him not to send a few hexes their way. A vein ticked in his forehead as he reluctantly watched Krum’s hands encircle her waist and lead her into the opening dance. She looked so happy. A smile he was never afforded radiated across her face, and she looked up at Krum, whose usual stern visage was replaced with a look of utter satisfaction and contentment. Viktor Krum was smitten.

From the corner of the room, Draco could see the wizard his father would have preferred to his headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, eyeing the two suspiciously. He had a feeling the former Death Eater wasn’t all too pleased with his star pupil’s choice of partner. For a moment, Draco wondered how different his life would have been had he gone to Durmstrang – probably filled with meticulous studies, physical requirements, and education into the darker aspects of magic. While Draco knew parts of Hogwarts could use more discipline, and that he might have more in common with many of the students, as they only admitted purebloods, Draco knew that he’d be excessively lonelier.

There would be no Theo at Durmstrang. And even if his best friend were sent right along with him, Theo’s father would have too much access to him there. Theo wouldn’t sleep well because of the dark. Theo was the second child that Narcissa and Lucius never had. It was an unspoken rule in their home to protect Theo to the best of their magical ability.

The night went on, and Hermione Granger’s cheeks never lost their flush and shine. Her eyes absolutely twinkled. 

“Something on your mind Drake?” Theo plopped into the chair next to his as their peers sang along with the band on the dance floor.

“Just tired.” he returned somewhat bitterly. Theo hummed his understanding.

“Who would have thought Krum and Granger, eh?” Silence for a beat.

“Yeah, I bet he’ll get a right earful from Igor.”

“Yeah, but who cares when you’ve got her looking at you like that?” They both glanced at the couple, and sure enough, there were stars in Hermione’s eyes as Viktor danced around her and whispered things in her ear.

Draco turned away first and looked down at his fists clenched in his lap. He ignored Theo as his eyes also followed Draco’s hands. 

“Hey,” asked softly, “You want to get out of here?” Draco nodded silently, and the two wandered from the hall and out towards the lake, where Theo produced a small silver flask. Firewhiskey burned Draco’s throat as he sipped.

“Do you li–?” Theo’s voice slipped through the silence.

“Yes.” Draco cut him off, firmly.

“How long?” Theo pressed further.

“Since the wild bint socked me last year.” Theo’s strained laugh cut through the air, and Draco fought the urge to smile.

“Do you know how masochistic that sounds, Drake?” Theo turned to him, mirth covering his face. “You got a stiffy from Granger hitting you!”

“I never said anything about a stiffy!”

“But you did didn’t you?” Theo roared, face flushed from joy and the cold. Draco quickly muttered a warming spell over them. Theo was very good at ignoring his discomfort and pain – a habit from a lifetime of being Nott Sr.’s punching bag. Draco refused to allow his friend to suffer as long as he was around. For the next hour, they sat in the charmed warmth till the entire flask was drained before walking back into the castle. 

As they passed the courtyard, which was full of the carriages the visiting schools used to transport their students, a flurry of action caught Draco’s eye. An ermine-lined suit and a familiar head of curls quickly scampered out of one of the carriages, across the frozen grass, and down a darkened corridor of the castle. Draco tried to ignore the pounding in his ears as the clarity of the carriage’s previous occupants settled over him. He turned briefly to look at Theo, who offered a sad smile before throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulders. 

“C’mon,” the boy slurred every so slightly, “Let’s get you to bed.”. Together, they walked back to the dungeons, to their warm room, and watched the stars in Theo’s canopy until sleep claimed them.

Present

Draco waited for Theo in the courtyard. It was All Hallows’ Eve, and the older students were being permitted to go to Hogsmeade if they wished. The breeze on this final October day was particularly sharp, and Draco found the need to pull the collar of his black woolen coat higher around his neck.  Draco took a moment to drink in this quiet moment. He tilted his head back and looked at the sky, appreciating the quiet and the safety this castle afforded him. He knew moments like these would be rare in the future, and so he just breathed.

The entire castle was decorated with floating pumpkins and candles, and one had to be ever so careful of Peeves, who found it incredibly funny to grab the smaller of the floating jack-o’-lanterns and aim them at the students. 

Soon, Theo’s curly head came into view, and an anticipatory smile splashed to his face. Outfitted in a long, dark brown woolen cape, with matching gloves and a scarf, he stalked over to Draco.

“All set.” he chirped. 

“So good of you to finally arrive, Teddy.” Draco sneered. Theo gave the boy a slight eye roll and tried to hide a smile. Draco had given Theo a hard time the entirety of the week since overhearing his parting words with Granger. 

Draco couldn’t believe his ears that night when he heard Granger whisper the nickname on the steps to Gryffindor Tower - his pulse had quickened at the intimacy of it. Here, Granger wouldn’t even look at him — which he knew was his fault — but his best mate was getting private nicknames…and her smiles…and a hint of her softness. 

“You can call me that too if it bothers you that much, Drake.” Theo chided, and Draco gave a noncommittal grunt. 

They continued their trot down to Hogsmeade in a comfortable silence, brogues clicking on cobblestone and leaves crunching under their feet. They weren’t far when the scents of chocolate, candy, and smoke wafted in the air to greet them.

They ducked into Honeydukes first, buying a ridiculous amount of sweets to stash in the bureau between their two beds. And then it was off to the Broomsticks for butterbeer and mulled wine, if they could convince the barkeeper to sell them the alcohol. As they approached the wonky-shaped alehouse, Draco caught whispers of Krum floating in the conversation of other students as they milled about. 

Draco felt his eyes lock in as he discreetly scanned the passersby, looking for the man in question. They entered the pub and found a table in the back, away from the excessive sound and natter of students. Draco sipped his butterbeer while Theo sank into the warmth of mulled wine. They didn’t speak, just existed, watching the students and citizens of the small village buzz about. And then Draco heard it – a familiar giggle. 

He glanced round, looking for curly hair, but found none; still, her voice was nearby somehow. Draco looked at Theo, and for some reason, the boy was suddenly very interested in the ingredients on the back of a pack of chocolate frogs. His eyes narrowed, and then he heard a distinctly accented male voice from behind him. Draco turned and realised that their booth shared a wall with one of the Broomstick’s private booths. 

They were charmed so that no one outside of the reserved occupants could see or get inside. They were rather normal, actually, often used for more relaxed business meetings, private interviews with reporters, and even first dates for shier couples. Draco didn’t even bother to hide the fact that his ears were attuned only to the conversation and movement on the other side of the wall.

“It is very good to see you again, Hermes,” Krum’s voice came. 

“It’s absolutely mental that you still can’t pronounce my name.” Hermione teased. A semi-embarrassed chuckle poured from the man’s mouth. Draco imagined the git was looking proper sheepish.

“I vas really happy to get your letter,” he continued. “But…I must admit to you now that I omitted someting in my reply…that umm…may affect how you feel…” he rushed out. Draco continued imagining a look of nervousness and trepidation on both their faces.

Krum’s voice dropped a mite lower, “I am engaged–” he began, and Hermione cut him off.

“Oh Viktor I never would have written you had I–.”

“No, listen,” he pressed on. “I am to marry one of my teammates.” he said shyly. “We…we don’t have a conventional relationship–”

“Viktor there’s absolutely nothing unconventional about liking men.”

“No, I know,” he said firmly. “Please, just let me finish.” A small smile quirked at Draco’s mouth at this development, and the need for yet another person to ask Granger to be quiet. The beautiful girl was always so eager.

“My fiance,” Viktor continued, “Petar…he…he wants to watch.” 

Draco choked on his beer and met Theo’s gaze, who had dropped all pretense of minding his own business and had gone red. 

There was silence for a beat beyond the wall. And then Hermione’s voice came out tentatively, “Petar…wants to watch you make me…come?” 

Draco stiffened everywhere. 

A dark chuckle and an intimate, gravelly tone took over Viktor’s mouth. “He wants to watch more than that, mila,” the implication hanging in the air. “We started together not long after you and I stopped writing each other, and…back then I told about our time together…I…I have to admit,” the sound of Viktor sliding closer in their booth towards Hermione sang through Draco’s mind. “I might have talked about your…putka…in very vivid detail,” the twenty-one-year-old Bulgarian finished with the then unmistakable sound of a soft kiss and a whimper from Gryffindor’s brightest star.

Draco felt his hands shaking. 

“Tell me,” his voice came again, between kisses, “Who was it?”

“Who was what?” she whispered. 

“Who did you…” He said again, and Draco imagined him waving his hand to further the implication in his question. Hermione let out a low and relaxed laugh.

“Viktor,” she hummed, “ You mean to tell me you can talk about my cunt in a pub but can’t ask who was the first person I slept with?” Draco imagined the man again had the decency to look sheepish. 

“It was a friend.”

“Potter!?” Krum asked in alarm.

“No!” she exclaimed. “I love Harry but not like that. It was umm… Ron.” She ended flatly.

“The orange hair boy with all the siblings?” confusion coloring his tone. Draco had to agree with him there. Giving Ronald Weasley one’s maidenhead seemed very questionable. 

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Well…why did you write me if—“

“We’re not together.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to be for—“

“We weren’t compatible.” Draco quirked an eyebrow at this tidbit of information. A silence passed between them, and then Draco heard the danger in Viktor’s voice. 

“Oh, mila,” he whispered dangerously low, “How badly do you need it?” Draco heard another kiss and a hiss. Draco stiffened and, in his peripheral, could see Theo gripping his mug so firmly his knuckles were going white. 

The sound of clothing ruffling filtered through the shared wall, and Draco immediately looked at Theo, shock registering on both their faces. A soft pant and a muffled moan tickled at their ears then — “That much, mila?” Viktor's voice was hoarse. 

Draco was too shocked to feel anger. And he’d be damned if he’d ever admit that a large part of him was ridiculously aroused. The sounds of heated kisses rang in Draco’s ears before Hermione's strangled voice whispered, “Can we go now?”

It was in that moment that Draco realised that they’d have to walk past his and Theo’s booth. Louder movement vibrated through the wall as the couple exited the privacy of their booth and suddenly stepped into view. Krum saw him first, face lighting in recognition. 

Unfortunately, Igor’s propensity for carting Krum around everywhere meant that Draco had met the man on numerous occasions, especially when he called on his father. They’d also played a round of Quidditch during fourth year, Krum giving Draco some tricks to improve his game.

“Draco!” he said gruffly, a crinkle of pleasure cracking through his stern facade. Beside him, Granger blanched. 

“Krum.” He nodded stiffly. 

Krum nodded in Theo’s direction. “This is your boyfriend, no?” Theo’s laughter broke through the pub, and Draco slowly turned his head in Theo’s direction. 

“No,” he responded as the boy tried in vain to stifle the laughter that desperately wanted to continue to pour out of him. 

“Sorry,” Krum stuttered out. “I just thought—“

“We better be going,” Hermione’s voice cut in quietly. Draco intentionally avoided making eye contact with her and focused on Krum’s hulking form. 

“Bye, Hermione,” Theo said. Draco saw him give her a skittish smile before flashing his eyes in Draco’s direction. Krum watched the interaction silently, his eyes shifting between all three before giving the two a nod and turning to lead Hermione away. 

“Bye, Teddy,” she waved, her usual timbre diminished.

Draco watched them walk away, vaguely in the direction of the backstairs that led to the pub’s upper rooms. 

And then they were alone. For a long time, neither spoke, and when Theo stood and wrapped his cape around his shoulders, Draco followed suit. 

Draco didn’t remember the walk back to the castle. He didn’t hear the screams of one Katie Bell either. All Draco knew was that one moment he was in the Three Broomsticks, and next, he was curled up in a ball looking at the twinkling sky in Theo’s canopy.

Chapter Text

Theo glanced from his book to Draco, who had fallen asleep next to him. He did that dissociation bit again, not long after Krum and Hermione left their sight. He watched the rise and fall in his best mate’s chest, his dark eyelashes framing the ever-darkening rings under Draco’s eyes. 

Theo knew something was happening, something that Draco wouldn’t reveal. Too often, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and find Draco‘s bed empty, and when he finally returned, it would be at odd hours, his tall frame slightly hunched over, shoulders heavy with fatigue and stress. 

He hadn’t always been this way. Theo had noticed a change in him towards the end of the summer, right before they returned to school. Draco was wound too tight.

It had been an odd summer. Theo again spent most of his time at Malfoy Manor, but this time Lucius and Narcissa forbade the boys from entering particular wings of the house. He and Draco were moved into the guest house behind the property - Narcissa offering the thin excuse that she was decorating. 

He respected them too much to question it.

Still, something in his stomach told him something was wrong. He knew things were happening and moving since the Dark Lord’s return. He had it in the whispers of other Slytherin students, whose parents were also Death Eaters. He could smell it in the air as wizarding Britain became darker overnight. He saw the reports and heard the rumors of people missing, vanished, and kidnapped. He heard of werewolf attacks and strange things happening under the power of the imperious curse. 

On more than one occasion, he tried to talk to Draco about it, but he could see the fear in his friend's eyes, and the conversations often ended as quickly as they began. 

Theo looked at the clock and saw it was nearly seven-thirty. With great care, he moved from his bed, trying earnestly not to wake Draco. He closed the curtains around the boy instead, set a privacy charm, and quickly slipped from their dorm and out of the dungeons.

A quick disillusionment and silencing charm, and Theo was walking quickly to the fifth-floor prefect bathroom. Since they all shared the privilege of having access to the ornate facility, their Head Boy and Girl for the year made a chart so that after a specific time every day, there was a set schedule and a new password for who would have sole use of the bathroom’s massive tub. Apparently, in previous years, there had been one too many occasions where multiple prefects attempted to use the bathroom at the same time, creating quite a problem. 

Theo slipped inside and saw a familiar head of long auburn hair floating in the pool-sized tub; the smell of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air. He quickly shed all his clothes, lowered himself into the deep end, moved through the warm suds, and wrapped his arms around Ginny.

“You’re late,” she murmured.

“Sorry, I was reading and lost track of time,” he sighed as his hands trailed down her naked body and wrapped her legs around his waist. Ginevra looked him square in the face, an amused arch forming in her brow. 

“Just reading?” she whispered before planting a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. “Not cuddling and whispering sweet nothings with a very tall, brooding blond?” She kissed him again, and Theo smirked behind her mouth.

“Unfortunately for me, no,” he whispered against her mouth, an almost undetectable tinge of sadness in his voice.

Ginny Weasley and Theodore Nott Jr. had an arrangement dated the night of the Welcome Feast. Theo had seen the effect Hermione’s shock had registered across the rest of the Gryffindors, and as he looked at the house of goody-two-shoes, he saw in Ginny interest rather than revulsion. As she looked on at Draco and Astoria that night with blatant curiosity, he caught her eye and winked. The girl had been bold enough to stare him down, keeping her eyes fixed on him as she chatted with Hermione. He saw her leave the hall, throwing him a final look and a smirk before disappearing through the doors. That was all the invitation Theo needed, and without a word to anyone at the table, he left and stalked after her. 

It didn’t take him long to find the willowy girl. He nearly walked past her, but she was quick and pulled him by the back of his robes into a hidden doorway behind one of the tapestries. For a while, they shared playful and competitive kisses, which then morphed into fevered over-the-clothes touching, and soon culminated in his fingers down her skirt while her hand firmly wrapped around the length in his pants. 

They agreed to meet often, purely physical, purely necessity. But somewhere along the line, they started sharing their secrets, passing a whiskey and the odd cigarette after their rendezvous. Ginny was not a virgin, and neither was Theodore, so the business of guiding each other through first fumbles was thankfully avoided. When he’d asked her about Potter, she told him that Harry was her endgame. They’d kissed and she’d loved him for years, but he hadn’t yet asked her to be his girlfriend, and whatever he got up to these days meant she rarely saw him. Theo understood. Draco disappeared and reappeared so often that at times, Theo thought he was losing his mind. It was no surprise that both Draco and Potter were behaving oddly.​​

Theo pressed Ginny’s back against the side of the tub and quickly slipped into her.

“Go slow today,” her voice hummed in his ear. “I think…I think our time may be coming to an end.”

Theo nodded in agreement. She felt it too – she knew something was very wrong.

Their soft pants and moans filled the humid air, and Ginny dug her heels in the closer she got. Theo’s thrusts started to get sloppy as he, too, neared his finish. They came together, Theo grunting into her neck, and Ginny’s nails hardened into his back.

Slowly, he let her down, and they both floated in the water, not speaking.

“Harry’s saying Draco cursed Katie,”

“Stupid speckled git,” Theo grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Well, do you know for a fact he didn’t?” Ginny pressed, and Theo turned to look at her, upset clear in his eyes. “Theo,” she said calmly, “I’m not accusing Draco, I’m simply asking if you know anything that could…absolve him. It helps no one for false accusations to fly around the castle. People will listen to me. Harry will listen to me. I could tell him otherwise.”

Theo sighed in exasperation and shook his head. Ginny was right; it would be helpful if the people surrounding Draco and Harry could help diffuse tension rather than add to it.

“I don’t know anything, Gin,” he whispered. “He’s so despondent these days. One minute he’s there and the next he’s gone.” Theo paused. “But it couldn’t have been him, I was with him the whole time.”

Ginny nodded, accepting this and slowly moving towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered into his throat, “Have another one in you?”

Theo smirked and nodded, his arms moving under her thighs to spread her open and sink himself inside of her.

Thirty minutes later, as they walked disillusioned from the bathroom, Theo had a thought.

“Why does Potter think it was Draco?” he murmured as they walked through the empty halls, avoiding corridors he knew other prefects would be patrolling. 

There was a moment of silence from Ginny, but then she replied, “He saw Katie go into a loo that he swears Draco had just left. But you’ve just said he was with you the whole time." She paused. "I think the pressure of everything is making him lose it,” she finished softly, sadness seeping into her voice.

As they went their separate ways, Theo felt his heart pound and sweat prickle under his arms and on his palms. It wasn’t until Gin mentioned the loos that he remembered.

After Krum and Hermione left their table, he and Draco left the Broomsticks. But no sooner had they crossed the threshold, Draco had doubled back to use the loo, leaving Theo outside to watch the falling leaves.

Chapter Text

She never got that orgasm. Viktor introduced her to Petar in the room they rented, and they spent about 30 minutes talking and laughing, getting to know one another, when Viktor finally leaned in to kiss her. She sensed Petar’s attention had shifted, but right as Viktor’s hand trailed down the length of her body to unfasten her trousers, a loud gut-wrenching scream sounded outside the pub.

Hermione felt all the air leave her body, and they all jumped, running to the window, where a commotion brewed outside. Everyone pointed towards the sky, and as she turned to follow the sea of shocked faces and pointed fingers, her heart began to race. There, floating above them, was Katie Bell, face a picture of intense pain, her screams echoing through every atom and fiber for miles.

And then she heard Harry, screaming for someone to help. Hermione didn’t think, only acted. She flew down the stairs, coat in hand, and nearly collided with her friend as he stood at the center of the melee, trying various spells to bring her down. 

“Harry, go get help. I’ll stay here,” she urged him, pushing him towards the path back to the castle. Hermione stood there, wand drawn, as villagers and students stared or ran in various places to hide from the screams. A warmth at her back had her peering over her shoulder to find Viktor and Petar, eyes full of concern.

“Vat can ve do to help?” Viktor’s voice murmured above her.

“Move everyone back,” she begged. Katie’s screams resounded in her head, and she could feel herself starting to crack. It was unnatural, inhuman. The closest she’d come to hearing something this primal was Amos Diggory as he wept over the body of his son two years prior. 

For the first time in her life, relief swept through Hermione as Snape marched through the crowd and came to stand beside her. And for the first time, he didn’t regard her with disdain, but rather murmured for her to lower her wand and stand aside. She was all too happy to comply. Hagrid lumbered not far behind, a pile of blankets in his hands.

She watched as their potions master murmured a series of spells she couldn’t discern, and soon, Katie’s body was back on the ground, and Snape slipped a potion down her throat that instantly silenced her screams. Hagrid moved around the villagers and picked up a small parcel that slipped from Katie’s hands, using the blankets to handle it and tuck it into his great overcoat. Without a word to anyone, the half-giant quickly stalked back to the castle, and Hermione turned her attention back to Katie.

“Where’s Harry?” she heard herself whisper in Snape’s direction. Snape stood, levitating Katie’s body at a more appropriate height to take her back to the castle.

His sneer returned as he replied, “Mr. Potter is perfectly well, throwing accusations around in the headmaster’s office.”

Good, Harry was with Dumbledore. Viktor and Petar reappeared next to her, demanding to walk her back to the castle, and she eagerly agreed, not keen on the idea of being alone. They said goodbye at the wards, Viktor placing a chaste kiss next to her mouth and Petar giving her a very warm smile and handshake.

“If you ever need to write me again,” he murmured into her hair as he hugged her goodbye, “Petar vill not mind.” Hermione nodded, feeling just a mite more relaxed after the chaos of the afternoon.

Instead of returning to the tower, she found herself on the path to the Headmaster’s office, eager to see Harry. She paced in circles outside the gargoyle for nearly an hour before it shifted, and the boy stalked towards her, frustration etched in his brow. He immediately wrapped his arms around her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes of course, what did Dumbledore say?”

“Everything and fucking nothing, as usual,” he grumbled. Hermioned nodded, understanding immediately. The old man, wise as he was, had a penchant for speaking in riddles. While this seemed enchanting and mysterious when they were much younger, it was starting to grate on their nerves as the danger in their community grew.

“Harry, what happened?” she peered at his face as they moved out of the hall and in the direction of their common room. “Did you see what happened?”

Without missing a beat, he bit out. “It was Malfoy.”

Hermione felt her heart slowly sink into her stomach. She knew dark things were happening, but Draco was their age. They were all on the cusp of legality, but still, it couldn’t be true. There had to be some mistake.

“Are you quite sure?” she asked carefully. Harry stopped and looked at her, gaze deadly serious.

“I know what I saw, Hermione. It was him.” his tone was firm but not unkind. She nodded, trusting him.

“Okay, I believe you.” she responded, knowing that even if Harry was mistaken, he’d been given reason enough to believe otherwise. Despite the animosity between the two boys, Harry learned after his fourth year to avoid making accusations without proof. His name being pulled from the goblet and the accusations that swirled and followed him through the halls had caused enough misery for him, even affecting his relationship with his own housemates.

Together they walked in silence back to the safety and warmth of their dorm, where they soon separated to put on more comfortable clothes. 

The first of November crept over the horizon, the air still and full of suspicion and unrest. Everyone in the castle knew about Katie. And while Harry had refrained from playing the town crier, soft whispers carrying a certain Slytherin’s name drifted through the castle halls, around breakfast tables, and into classrooms. 

To his credit, if anyone approached him to ask what happened, Harry pushed them off, keeping his belief to his core group and encouraging them to let Dumbledore handle everything. 

Hermione had rounds with Theo again that night, and to her surprise, she felt a little more nervous than she had the first time they met. 

“Hermione,” his voice was warm and bright behind her. She turned to find him smiling at her curiously – and was that a hint of nerves on his end as well?

“Theo,” she returned, trying not to be awkward.

“Ah, no more Teddy?” he asked, trying to joke.

Hermione felt herself relax a bit, and she tried again. “Teddy.”

He nodded in approval, a small light rekindling in his eyes. 

“Shall we?” he asked, waving his hand in the direction of their mandated corridor. And so it began. For a while, they walked in silence, and then she could tell he was itching to ask her something, so she broke first.

“Okay, what is it?” she asked. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, nothing,” his voice came a tad higher than usual.

“Teddy,” she gave it her best professor impression.

“Oh, please don’t do that,” he laughed. “You sound like Hooch!”

“Really? I was going for McGonagall.” A giggle spilled from her mouth. “But really,” she continued. “What is it?”

He waited a beat and then, “So Viktor and…Petar?” he left it there, waiting for her to fill in the gaps.

Hermione felt her face flush and sweat prickle under her arms. “How much did you hear?” she whispered.

Theo didn’t respond, but a quick look at his face gave her the answer. “You should consider silencing charms, Hermione. They’re quite ingenious.”

“Would you believe you’re not the first person to tell me that this year.

Theo barked a laugh, a grin splitting across his face. “And who was the first?”

Hermione giggled and flicked her eyes at him. “Ginny. Ginny Weasley.”

She heard him chuckle and murmur, “Figures,” a soft smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Hermione felt her heart skip just a bit, and a burning curiosity nipped at her gut. “I'm sorry, what do you mean?”

Theo shook his head and waved it off, “Oh, nothing. Don’t listen to me, I just have all these ideas about what the perfect Gryffindor girls get up to in their tower.”

Hermione choked out a laugh, accepting this, but still, something needled in the back of her head. “So how’s Draco?” she found herself asking without thinking.

Theo’s steps startled, and he cut her an indiscernible look. “Tired.” his tone had shifted, becoming soft and sad. Silence enveloped them, and then he broke it. “Aren't you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“If he did it?” 

Hermione waited a beat and then shook her head. Theo stopped walking entirely and stared at her. She stared back and saw fear hidden in the corners of his eyes.

“You’re afraid for him.” she murmured,

“Aren’t you for Potter?”

She nodded again, examining his face, seeing the tension in his body, and it clicked. Something she’d suspected after their first conversation, but passed off as a lifetime of friendship. “You love him.”

Theo's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he took a small step towards her. She fought the urge to step back. He nodded stiffly, eyes searching hers.

“Theo,” she began softly, “there’s nothing wrong with it.”

The young wizard looked at his feet and breathed a heavy sigh. “It is in our circles, Hermione.” He didn’t immediately look up at her, but when he did, she could tell he was looking to see if he’d offended her. Imagine that, moments after revealing a private part of his life, he was looking after her comfort. Hermione slowly reached her hand out to his arm and felt the tension in his body lessen somewhat.

“C’mon,” she whispered, “Let’s find someone to write up.”

Theo nodded, and together they walked down the quiet corridor with only the shadows for company. Just when she thought the rest of their time together was going to be in comfortable silence, another curious expression came over him.

“So did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Viktor and…” he murmured, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione shook her head, feeling the flush once more.

“What happened? Not into two wizards at once?” he tried to joke.

It was Hermione’s turn to peek at him. He sounded genuinely curious. “It just didn’t work out,” she sighed, ending the conversation and missing the satisfied and smug look that bloomed on his face.

Chapter Text

Draco slowly felt the world close in on him. The only rays of light were Theo and the occasional glimpse of Granger. Every time he left his room to disappear to the Room of Requirement to work on a certain task, he felt himself dissociate. He didn’t want to be here; he didn’t want to do this. But his father’s failures had put his mother at risk, and Draco could not bear the thought of harm coming to her. 

He tried not to hate his father, but all of this shit because he allowed himself to take an ugly, burning tattoo fifteen years prior was enraging. These times were not full of the glory many of the purebloods had been promised. They’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, and now no one was safe.

So much had been carefully hidden from Theo. He knew the boy knew something was wrong, but he also knew not to pick too hard. The summer had been awful. The worst Draco had ever known. One moment, he and Theo were lounging in his room, lazily tossing a quaffle back and forth. Next, his mother stalked in, calm but with a manic look in her eye, telling them that she was suddenly interested in redecorating the family wings of the manor. So he and Theo would need to move into the guest house for the foreseeable future. Something about the crazed look in his father’s eye from the hall shadows told him not ot argue. In fact, it scared Draco.

Draco knew it was bullshit; it just took him a minute to figure out what they were hiding. It wasn’t until he tried to access the manor late one night for something from his father’s study that wards, he didn’t know existed, propelled him through the air back in the direction of the guest house, that he got an inkling. He’d looked up into the sky and saw the dark mark floating heavily above, and that’s when it hit him: The Dark Lord had taken up residence in their home.

The wards barring him must have been especially attuned to his mother because no sooner had he wiped the dirt from his trousers did she come stalking across the grass. 

“Get back inside,” she hissed, eyes immediately regretting snipping at him. She turned to look over her shoulder, carefully inspecting the windows of the manor. When she turned back to face him, he stood in the open doorway. She took a step forward and dropped her voice. 

“Draco, listen to me, do not leave the guesthouse ever. I don’t care what you think you see or hear; you stay inside. Your father and I will come and get you if there’s ever a reason to leave the grounds.” She paused, looking up at the sky and then back at him. 

“Don’t tell Theo,” she whispered. “I’ll send you boys whatever you need, books, food, games, even the odd firewhiskey, but do not leave this house.”

Draco remembered feeling himself nod, fear washing over him at the stress etched across his mother’s face. “Are you okay, mum?”

“Everything’s going to be fine my little dragon,” she whispered, falling back on the nickname from his younger years. “Your father will fix it.”

She didn’t sound confident. She wasn’t. Draco’s current situation proved he’d been unsuccessful. 

Whispers still followed him through the halls of the castle; the only place people didn’t care was in the dungeon. He didn’t even care that Potter had accused him – Snape told him as much one night in the privacy of his darkened classroom. All Draco wanted to do most days was find Theo and sit in the quiet with him. He felt so much better when the boy was near. It was easier to breathe. A lifetime of friendship had made Theo’s presence and well-being a non-negotiable in Draco’s existence. 

He tried not to think about how the boy got to spend time with Granger. He asked him once what they talked about on their walks, but he only gave  Draco a slow, sneaky smile and shook his head, refusing to respond. However, he did give up one bit of information that brightened Draco’s day and had even kept him warm that night after moving from Theo’s bed to his own.  She hadn’t slept with Krum.

Today, they were back in potions, and Draco could feel Potter’s eyes on him. He ignored it as he did all other stares, worrying about what that boy thought of him would do nothing to save his mother and keep Theo safe. 

It happened a month into the new presence in the manor. Draco had been sleeping, Theo, a few feet away in the same enormous bed. They’d drifted off, reading books for the upcoming year.

A hand gently nudged him, and when he looked up, his father stood beside the bed with a single finger to his lips. He looked haggard and tired. His long, usually perfect hair, which he’d taken to wearing tied neatly at the back, was frizzy and wild. He hadn’t shaved in days, and his eyes were bloodshot.

This was not the man who raised him, who taught him to take pride in his appearance. This was a shell. A shaky shell that now beckoned him to follow him quietly into the hall. When the door silently closed behind them, his father stared at him for a moment, softly panting. 

“Draco,” his voice wavered. “You must come with me. I’m…I’m sorry son. I tried.”

He didn’t know what to think as his father led him from the guesthouse through the wards of the manor. The air was different. His mother had always been such a wonderful homemaker, the house always full of flowers, smelling of jasmine and other beautiful florals and gourmands. But now the air was damp and cold. It smelled of death and fear, and there was an unnatural stillness that threatened to suffocate.

Silently, he led Draco into the grand dining room, where it seemed some kind of redecorating had indeed taken place. The room, which once hosted a large but family-sized dining table with floral arrangements and beautiful chairs, had been transfigured into thrice its length. At the head of the table, in a chair that looked more like a throne, sat that snake-faced half blood so many of the Sacred 28 had pledged their loyalty to. It never failed to baffle Draco that, with all this shit they spouted about blood supremacy, this thing didn’t even make the cut. As he drew nearer and the other side of the room came into view, his heart froze. 

His mother was on the floor on her back, limbs outstretched, blood running from her nose, gasping to breathe. Immediately, he tried to run to her, but an unseen force threw him back against his father, who hunched over in his own shame.

He would never forget the sound of that thing’s voice slithering across the floor and into his ear, telling him that it was up to him to save his mother. His father had failed at one too many tasks, and if he wanted to see his mother alive, then he needed to agree to do as told. The thing demanded that he come closer before him. When he made to step forward, he was told to stop and crawl.

Anger flared in his belly at this ritual humiliation. Death Eaters surrounded them, and he had to crawl to this abomination. But he did it anyway, for his mother. There at its feet, he agreed to kill Albus Dumbledore. Narcissa was instantly released from her bondage, and Draco heard his father limping toward her to help her up. And just when he was about to stand, he heard that damned Nott Sr offer up Theo as a soldier in his army, ever eager to get his progeny in the spotlight as well. 

Draco had a visceral reaction, immediately falling back to his knees and telling the Dark Lord that having more than one person floating around at Hogwarts doing his work was dangerous. Instead, Draco would take the mark, putting the weight of all his desires on him. Draco heard his mother scream, telling him to stop. But Draco pressed on, lifting the sleeve of his shirt and bearing the clean of his skin for a copy of the damnation his father had sown into their lineage. 

That night, Draco soiled himself, writhing in pain on the floor as the mark was etched on him. But he did it for his mother and for Theo. When it was over, he blacked out, and when he awoke, he was back in his bed in the guesthouse, his shirt sleeve firmly buttoned around his wrist. 

So now, Draco passed each day in a daze. Waiting for the moment that he would have to fulfill his task and the day that the violence we had to perpetrate might actually push Theo away and make Granger hate him forever.

She’d stopped teasing him with her clothes, but Draco found that more often he could feel her eyes on him. Not heated with desire but curiosity.