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His eyes scanned the crowd slowly, wondering if she was with the irritating group of redheads he knew to be coming to the match. His father had mentioned that the Weasley father had been invited and given tickets to the World Cup to sit with the Minister. Exactly where he was sitting.
“Do pay attention, Draco,” his father drawled from his left, eyes never leaving the group of oddly-dressed men about 10 yards ahead. “These dignitaries,” he added, conveying to Draco that his father thought them to be anything but, “will be in the box with us. I expect you’ll be able to carry on a conversation if engaged.”
“Yes, Father,” he intoned obediently while his eyes continued to search for her.
No, he scolded himself mentally, you’re not searching for her. You don’t want to see her.
It sounded like a lie even as he was trying to convince himself that it was true. Ever since she’d slapped him the year before, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. No girl had ever stood up to him like that before. It was driving him mad.
“Oh great,” he heard from his right and his head snapped in the direction of Potter and the worst Weasley of the lot. His nose curled as he surveyed the two. “What’re you doing here?”
“Aside from being accosted by the stench of your poverty? I think the answer to that is pretty clear,” he shot back.
“Let’s just go.”
His eyes snapped to where Granger stood, small and hidden behind her taller friends. He hadn’t intended on her hearing his slander, but of course she’d been right there. He’d have to be more mindful of that in the coming year; he didn’t want her having to witness him tearing down her oafish friends.
“Thought you didn’t like quidditch, Granger,” he said, but then instantly realized his mistake. “You’re never paying attention at games.”
And then made it infinitely worse.
“I - I like quidditch just fine,” she answered, a bewildered look on her face. He couldn’t really blame her either. He was a complete fool for even opening his mouth. “I just … think it’s dangerous.”
“Anything’s dangerous if you don’t know how to do it right.”
She licked her lips and his stomach clenched at the sight of it. She opened her mouth, presumably to respond, when the ginger troll got there first. “When was the last time you beat us at anything?”
He told himself to roll his eyes and walk away. It’s not worth it, his brain reasoned, she’s right there and you don’t want to be a massive prat in front of her. Decimate the weasel and his potty later when they’re not around.
His mouth, however, was apparently not in the mood to listen to his brain. “How about in every single class we’ve been in? Just because Potter’s gotten lucky on the pitch a few times doesn’t mean he’s better than me.”
Before he could continue, he felt a hard grasp on his shoulder and looked up to see his father’s cold eyes on him. He swallowed and watched as his father looked to Granger and the others and then rose to meet those of the Weasley father. He remembered the fight between them two years prior and wanted to intercede before they all got tossed, but his father just gripped his shoulder and directed him away from the group without a word.
“What have I told you about associating with those poor excuses for wizards?” his father asked lowly as they made their way through the crowd to the Minister’s box.
He wanted to correct his father, say Granger was actually bright, but he knew that was common knowledge in his household. Snape never failed to remind his old school chum exactly where Draco fell in each of his classes: second. To Granger. The thought made him wrinkle his nose, but he pushed it aside. “I apologize, Father. I shouldn’t have engaged.”
“See that it doesn’t happen again. There’s no telling how long this match will last and I won’t have you ruining any relationship I may be able to form with the Bulgarian Minister because you can’t suppress your petty school rivalries for a few hours.”
Draco thought it was rich for his father to talk about petty rivalries after the look he gave to the Weasley father but he wisely held his tongue.
An hour into the match and Draco was certain he was going to go mad. Granger smelt of fresh linen and despite being in an enormous stadium with endless food, drink and other smells, the only one he could identify was fresh linen.
Granger wasn’t all that engaged in the match but she’d managed not to bring a book with her - probably the work of Potter or one of the redheads. The girl could have been responsible as well, since she was the one most often trying to explain what was happening to Granger.
“I just don’t understand the point of a wonky faint,” Granger whispered loudly. “And I don’t understand why a student is playing on a national team either. It all seems very …”
The girl Weasley cut her off, her hands flying as she tried to educate her friend on the one area where she fell a bit short.
A gasp from the crowd drew Draco’s attention away from the girls and he almost laughed out loud at Krum in the midst of a wronski feint. Appropriate, he thought with a grin, his eyes traveling over to see Granger cross her arms but smile.
It wasn’t much longer before Krum actually caught the snitch and the match was over. As a seeker himself, he thought it was stupid that the Bulgarian had ended the game when they were behind, but the Irish were scoring too many points for Bulgaria to catch up. He supposed Krum was just trying to limit the damage.
He and his father made their way back to the tent and Draco began stepping inside when his father gripped his shoulder. “Go to the woods and wait until I come for you,” he said seriously. “Be seen but don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“Why?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“Just do as I say,” he father spat, shoving him in the direction of the woods.
Rolling his eyes, Draco pushed hands hands into his pockets and started the long walk towards the tree line. He wished his father had given him a moment to get his cloak - it was a bit chilly and if he was to be out braving the elements for any length of time, he wanted to at least have some source of warmth.
He was still a fair distance away when the screaming started. His head snapped up and his eyes widened as he heard an explosion and saw a fire erupt off in the distance. And then another. It didn’t take long for people to start rushing past him as they ran away, all towards the tree line Draco had been heading for in the first place.
A sick feeling twisted his gut but he swallowed it down and put his long legs to good use, running for the trees with he crowd. It was busy and congested but he made sure, like his father said, to run into some people he knew or that he was certain his father knew. He didn’t know what was going on but he was sure his father knew about it. He wouldn’t have gotten a head start to the forest otherwise.
“Harry! Ron!”
Draco stood taller as his eyes scanned the crowd for her. He would know that voice anywhere, especially when it was calling the names it was, and it appeared as if she’d been separated from the people she’d arrived with.
He heard whispers of Death Eaters and he thought he might be sick. He’s assumed, of course, but this pretty much made up his mind. His father was a Death Eater. His father was after people like Granger.
Not today, he thought to himself before moving through the crowd towards her.
“Granger,” he called out, reaching for her elbow and tugging her a bit further away, to a more secluded and hidden spot.
She shook him off as soon as they stopped. “I’ll ask you to not manhandle me, Malfoy,” she spat at him, though he could tell it was laced more with fear than with anger. She was alone and unprotected and he had the power to change both things.
And maybe needle her a bit, see if her hair really sparked when she was riled up or if he’d just imagined it.
“I assumed you liked that sort of thing, what with the beating your intelligence must take just being in close proximity to your little friends.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away and he grinned. He very much enjoyed getting Granger all worked up.
“I can’t find Harry and Ron,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “We were supposed to stick together. With Fred and George and Ginny too. We got - I got separated from them. I’ve been searching for ages. Have you seen them?”
He hadn’t but he wasn’t going to say that and let her run off by herself again. There were more fires and he worried something would happen to her. Mostly, he worried his father would find her and either he’d be exposed or she’d be …
“Are those … is that the muggle family?” she gasped, stepping behind him slightly and gripping his jacket sleeve. Consciously, he knew she probably forgot where she was and who she was with, but he took the little victory for what is was and stepped a little further in front of her, shielding her body from the passing group of Death Eaters and the muggles they were toying with.
“I think so,” he answered. “Stay - stay behind me, Granger.” He was tall enough to block her out and if his father was with this group - Merlin, please don’t let him be with this group - and he was spotted, he could say it was just some little girl who’d latched onto him or something. No one, especially his father, had to know it was Granger.
Once the Death Eaters had passed, she shoved away from him, as if realizing who they both were for the first time. “I’m sure you’re amused by it,” she spat, turning to stomp off further into the woods.
Draco couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. This girl was infuriating and and made him quite cross with himself since he couldn’t stop thinking about her for anything. “Do you see me laughing?” he asked as he followed - he did not chase - after her. “Or do you see me trying to keep you out of harm's way?”
“I see you being a nuisance and keeping me from finding my friends,” Granger answered in the same swotty tone she often used in class when correcting Longbottom or whoever was fortunate enough to be working with her that day.
Unfortunate, his brain tried to correct but he shooed the thought away easily. What he wouldn’t give to share a cauldron with her just once. He was sure they could break school records or something.
Focus, he reminded himself as he hurried to get in front of her. “Granger, you’ve got a reasonable brain in your head. Do you think they won’t go for you just because you’re not a muggle. They hate everyone who isn’t …”
“Isn’t a pureblood?” she finished for him, a haughty glare in her eyes. “Yes, I’ve figured that out already, thanks. But I’m sure the one thing they want more than muggles and muggleborns is Harry. Who I can’t find. Who is sometimes recklessly stupid and endearingly unconcerned about his own wellbeing. If he’s seen the muggles, he’s going to want to do something.
“He can’t,” Draco answer. “Not tonight. There’s - there’s got to be more than one gang of them,” he added. “He’d be outnumbered.”
“I can assure you,” she said, and a little laugh escaped her lips, “that he was most definitely not take that into consideration before running headlong into a dangerous situation. Especially if he thinks I could be in danger.”
Her words made him freeze. Were Potter and Granger …?
What? the swotty voice in his head asked. You really think she’d go for someone with half a brain and even less talent?
“You are in danger … or you could be. Just … just stay here until they’ve gone, alright? No one will say or do anything to you if you’re here.”
“With you?” she asked, her tone curious. “Are you … staying?”
Trying to be cooler than he felt, he casually leaned against the closest tree. “Got nowhere else to be right now, I suppose.”
His heart pounded painfully in his chest when he caught a shadow of a smile cross her lips.
The letter he’d received from his father indicating he should escort Pansy to the Yule Ball made his stomach clench. He didn’t want to go with Pansy. Then again, the only person he thought he would be able to stomach a night with was the one person he knew he couldn’t even look at during the dance.
There were too many eyes at Hogwarts this year.
“You look dashing, Draco,” declared the simpering, breathy voice from beside him.
Schooling his features, he looked down to meet Pansy’s eyes. “And you look beautiful,” he lied, grinning at her. He watched her cheeks stain a pink to rival her dress and he knew if he wanted her, she’d be his. Most of the school already thought she was, he knew.
He offered his arm to her absently and when she didn’t take it, he looked at her and then followed her line of sight to the staircase leading down from the dormitories towards the Great Hall.
Draco wasn’t sure if this was what having some kind of cardiac event felt like but he was positive his heart completely stopped beating in his chest. There was no more air in his lungs and he struggled to hold in what could only come out as an embarrassing choking noise at the sight of the girl descending the stairs.
I know I haven’t been the best son, friend or student, he thought viciously, but this is just cruel.
Granger looked like she was walking right to him in her periwinkle dress robes and Draco felt terrifyingly close to reaching his hand out to her. Thankfully - or not - a tall figure in red Durmstrang robes stepped in front of him and Granger slid her hand into the corner of his elbow.
“What the fuck?”
He must have spoken aloud because the eyes of all students around him, including Potty and the Weasel, turned to him. He grimaced and waved them off, instead offering his arm to Pansy again, who took it with all the grace someone of her upbringing could muster. It was neater than how Granger had taken Krum’s, and Draco hated it. It was strange and terrifying, but he preferred the idea of instructing the know-it-all on proper etiquette.
His stomach clenched and he held back an uncomfortable grunt as he thought he wouldn’t mind instructing her any any number of things, or allowing her to instruct him, so long as he got to spend some time with her. He preferred verbally sparring with her more than spending any time at all with any other girl.
Fuck.
When the Champions and their guests - Granger was not on a date with an international quidditch star - were dancing, he kept his eyes on Potter. He told himself it was because he wanted to watch the idiot fail but it sounded weak to his own mind. He refused to actually think the truth though.
Once the Champions were done, everyone was invited to dance. Pansy, of course, wanted nothing more but to be on the dance floor, showing off her dress, her jewelry and him. He thought he saw Daphne Greengrass sneering at them from her place beside Nott.
When they moved into more traditional dances, a lot of the crowd thinned out, not knowing the steps. Draco, of course, was dragged into line by his date. Making a mental note to write his father to ensure this would be the first, last and only time he was required to escort Pansy Parkinson anywhere.
Mindlessly, he moved through the choreography, switching partners where necessary, never paying attention to a single one. That was, until, periwinkle invaded his unfocused eyesight and he was face to face with Granger.
Draco watched in something like awe as her cheeks pinked and she curtseyed to him. At her imploring look, he shook himself and bowed. Her hand extended and he followed suit, transitioning smoothly through the movements with her. Draco’s heart raced as he kept his eyes locked on hers throughout their partnership and she did the same. He wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his.
After, when they were back with their own partners, there would be seconds, not long enough to be classified as anything but coincidence, where their eye met and he saw her cheeks darken and he felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. Those coincidences got him through a long night of listening to Pansy complain about her feet hurting or how she liked someone else’s dress better.
Ever since the Yule Ball, Draco thought Granger might be finding ways to see him; he thought it because he knew he was doing the same with her. They never spoke, but he would catch her eyes and she would smile and he would feel like he could do anything.
It was weird, being in class and having some kids from other schools in there too, but some pretty Veela from Beauxbatons was sat between him and Granger and if anyone asked, he would lie and say he was looking at her.
Only he and Granger needed to know the truth.
When the morning of the Second Task came, he expected to see Granger and Weasel glued to Potter’s side. Instead, it was Longbottom, whispering frantically to the speccy git. He hoped the idiot froze in the lake. He didn’t deserve to be a Champion.
His eyes searched the crowd - was Granger with the girl Weasley? - as the Champions lined up on the platform. He didn’t see her bushy head of hair anywhere.
Once the Champions were in the water, things kind of got … boring. They couldn’t see anything and it was bloody freezing, so he spent his time searching every face in the crowd for Granger. Maybe she was staring at him, hoping he would see her.
When the first person broke through the water, he rolled his eyes. It was the blonde girl - Fleur, he thought - and she was alone. What kind of treasure could possibly be down there? But then she screamed and tried to dive back down. She was stopped, probably some kind of enchantment keeping the Champions from cheating or something, and she started screaming as they pulled her from the lake. His French was a little dusty but he thought she was saying something about her sister.
Then Diggory popped out of the water with the Ravenclaw seeker he was dating and Draco got a sinking feeling in his gut. His eyes traveled the crowd and he was able to pick out every Durmstrang student he’d seen spend any time with Krum.
“No,” he muttered into his hands as he brought them to his mouth. Time had already run out. Diggory was late and the Ravenclaw was still alive.
But he was only late a minute, the cynical part of his brain whispered. You can hold your breath that long. But two? Three? Five?
“Shut up,” he muttered into his hands, shoving Crabbe away when he asked what Draco’d said.
Draco had no idea how much time passed before a shark head burst from the water and then Granger behind it. He felt his knees go a little weak but ignored them, gripping the railing and watching as Krum tugged Granger towards the platform.
His relief was short-lived, however, because he realized that Krum’s greatest treasure was Granger. Which meant that he and Granger were probably …
He shoved away from the railing as a cheer broke out and he assumed Potter was alive. Great. He was the first in a boat waiting to go back across the lake, hoping to avoid Granger and her stupid, oafish, gitish boyfriend, who wasn’t even that good at quidditch.
“You’re avoiding me.”
It had been weeks since he’d made casual eye contact with Granger across the Great Hall or in Defense. Honestly, he hadn’t expected her to notice at all, let alone notice enough to be bothered by it and bring it to his attention.
“No I’m not.”
She stepped in front of him and rolled her eyes for effect. “You are, and I’m not sure why.”
Draco made a point of looking up and down the corridors before turning to face her again. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“My - who?” Granger asked as she looked up and down the corridors as well. He hated that it was a bit endearing that she honestly had no idea what he was talking about. “I hope you don’t mean Ron or Harry because …” She made a face and a little shiver ran up her spine and he felt a bit of tension leave his shoulders.
“Krum,” Draco retorted, hoping he didn’t sound as jealous as the twist in his gut made him feel.
“Viktor?” she asked. “We’re not …” She cut herself off and he felt something akin to dread creep into his heart. He tried very hard not to swallow loudly when she got this look in her eyes. He imagined it was the look a predator got just before pouncing on its prey. “You’re jealous!”
No kidding! “No I’m not,” he denied, though he heard his voice crack and he cursed his inability to lie very easily. He would need to ask for occlumency lessons at some point.
“Yes, you are,” she determined haughtily. “You’re jealous that Krum is a Champion.”
“No I’m -“ He paused, tilting his head and squinting as he considered her. “You think I’m jealous that Krum has to try not to die three times in front of thousands of people?”
“I …” This time it was Granger who faltered. “Yes?”
This is your out, he thought to himself. Agree and move on. It may be a little embarrassing but not nearly as bad as admitting the truth.
Unfortunately, his mouth and his brain had very different agendas. “No.” He wanted to slap himself. “That’s not why I’m jealous of him.”
“Then why?” she asked, confusion written all over her face. Draco thought it was absurd that the girl on the arm of the best quidditch player in the game didn’t think anyone could fancy her.
He scoffed and he noticed her cross her arms. She was beautiful when she was riled up but this was different. She was … insecure? Embarrassed. “Because he’s with you,” he admitted softly. “I’m jealous because you’re with him.”
Neither of them said anything for a long while. Draco was terrified he would do something stupid like run away. Or something even stupider like kiss her. It looked to him like she was trying to process what he said and reconcile the change in their relationship over the past several months. He wanted her to react one way or the other but he forced himself to be content with her silence for the moment.
As soon as she opened her mouth to say something, her name was called from down the corridor and whatever bubble they were in burst. He figured she had some kind of long speech to deliver but with Potter shouting her name, she couldn’t. Instead, she met his eyes and whispered, “Stop avoiding me,” before shouting back at Potter and hurrying off.
For the rest of the day, when anyone asked him why he was smiling so widely, he said he’d bested Granger on an exam.
The whole thing was fucked. A portkey in the Cup, a dead Champion, and if what Potter said was true, the Dark Lord was back. That meant his father would likely be dusting off the dark artifacts and rejoining, if he hadn’t already.
His eyes scanned the Great Hall as he and Nott entered. As luck would have it, Granger had an open seat beside her and there were few remaining so it wouldn’t look terribly out of place if he sat beside her. Besides, they were all in mourning; childish rivalries could be set aside for an hour or two so they could reflect on the life of someone who was gone too soon.
She looked up at him as he slid onto the bench, offering her a nod, then one to Potter as well. Weasley was sneering but he couldn’t bring himself to react. Not today.
Granger nodded to him and then to Nott before turning her attention to the front where Dumbledore stood. Madame Maxime was sitting to his left, large tears sliding down her cheeks and little Gabrielle was in the arms of another student.
He heard Granger sniffle and he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a handkerchief to offer. She took it with a wet smile and dabbed her eyes before she held it back out to him. “Keep it,” he whispered. “Probably won’t be the last time you need it.”
She whispered a thank you and held it in her right hand, her left resting on the seat between them.
Dumbledore spoke of a girl he didn’t know but who he had come to admire and respect. He spoke of friendship and love and unity. Draco’s heart hammered in his chest as he thought about everything that would be coming. Potter had no reason to lie; Draco was sure the Dark Lord was back, alive, and ready to start another war. A war in which he was certain to be part of the wrong side.
As Dumbledore spoke about coming together and filling the world with more love, he felt a cool hand slide against his and then link their fingers together. Granger kept her eyes forward but didn’t relax her grip once. She dabbed her eyes and sniffled, she blinked and let some tears flow, she looked to Potter and Weasley, but she never once let go of his hand.
He didn’t let go either.