Chapter Text
Draco stood in front of Hermione. One hand held his wand in front of himself; his other stretched over Hermione, shielding her from the man in front of him.
"Draco." His father's voice was smooth, like velvet on steel. He stood at the other end of the classroom. "Well, well, well. I would never have taken my own son for a traitor."
"Draco." Hermione's voice was soft. "Where's Harry?"
"I don't know." Draco didn't move. He couldn't think of a way out- not here, not now. In the castle, he could hear the cries of the death eaters, the screams of the students. "He's with Dumbledore."
"Why would you betray your own family?" His father was circling the two of them; his wand flicked up and down, like he was searching for an opening. He'd be hard-pressed to find one; Draco was very good at defending himself from offensive spells. "For a filthy mudblood woman?"
"Don't call her that." Draco's voice remained as calm as he could keep it. His voice shook all the same. "She's brilliant. She's the smartest person I know."
"Draco." Hermione's voice was soft- too much so for his father to hear. "Draco, when I say so, I need you to drop your wand. Make it look like an accident"
Draco didn't reply. He knew she knew he heard her, though. He replied to his father, pitching his voice low, like he was grasping for some kind of authority. "She's worth betraying someone as foul as you."
His father's face pinched. "You'll regret saying that in just a moment."
"Drop it!" Hermione hissed.
Draco obeyed. He pretended to stumble- h is wand clattered on the floor.
For a moment, he thought Hermione had made a mistake. His father laughed, and lifted his arm above his head to attack-
Hermione struck like a snake; her spell lit the room in a heavy web of lightning.
*
Four years ago
Flourish and Blots was crowded, full of far too many middle aged witches. Draco watched them from the balcony, as they poured themselves around Lockhart, like bees around a queen, begging for even a moment of attention. The buzz of the crowd peaked when someone stepped out from among them; a dirty, ashy young boy that they practically swooned over.
It didn't take Draco more than a moment to recognize him. Harry Potter. The center of attention, as always.
It wasn't that Draco was jealous of him. Draco was a rich son of one of the oldest wizarding families- he didn't need to be jealous of anyone. But everyone loved Harry- they bent over backwards to make him happy.
Sometimes, Draco had strange, malformed fantasies of being in Harry's shoes- of having people excitedly greet him, of being the boy who lived, of having that immediate attention and favor.
Certainly, it wasn't always good attention. Draco wasn't a moron. He saw how Snape treated Harry. But it was the rare teacher that treated Harry as just another student; even the ones who hated him gave him more time than the students they supposedly favored.
It doesn't matter. He's not a pureblood. Draco sneered once in Harry's direction, and then turned back to his book.
The page Draco was on showed a basilisk. It looked ferocious; mouth open wide, fangs bared, ready to attack. His father had been eagerly talking about this kind of monster all summer; it was a strange interest for his father, but Draco was trying to keep up. Maybe if he learned everything there was to know about it, his father would be proud of him.
If I was a basilisk, I'd tear Harry to shreds. Or, part of him thought, what if he killed the basilisk- killed it heroically, standing on a rock, while a girl hid behind him, clutched at her bushy hair-
Draco pushed the traitorous thought to the back of his mind. Without thinking, he tore out the paper with the snake. He'd show his father later; maybe he'd even get a little present for being so studious.
Or maybe he'll smack me for disturbing him. It was hard to tell with his father. He stuffed the paper into his pocket anyway and sauntered down the stairs.
*
His biggest accomplishment that year was getting into the Slytherin Quidditch team, with a little surprise help from his father. Malfoy was thrilled; watching as his father gifted broom after broom to the team was like getting his approval over and over again. His father was proud of him; his father wanted the best for him. It put a little boost in his step for a solid week.
Somehow though, Harry and his gang managed to steal the joy out of even that small victory.
It happened while Draco was following the rest of the Slytherin team to the courtyard. He was leaving the castle when he heard noises; as he moved closer, he realized that the Gryffindor team- and Ron and Hermione, for some reason- was in the field already, and arguing with the Slytherin team. It was rather stupid, since most of the Slytherins were much bigger than the Gryffindors, but also utterly unsurprising. No one ever said Gryffindors had much common sense.
Except Hermione, anyway. Draco hurried a little to catch up with his team, just in time to hear Harry speak.
"Malfoy?" Harry was saying. "You made Malfoy your seeker?"
"That's right." Draco hurriedly pushed past the other Slytherins, happily taking center stage. "And that's not all that's new. Take a good look." He moved his broom against his shoulder, a little bit proudly. His father had bought it for him, after all.
"A nimbus 2001!" Ronald sounded impressed.
"That's right." Draco couldn't keep the gloat from his voice. "See, unlike some, my father can afford the best."
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in." Hermione's eyebrows moved as she spoke, giving emphasis to her words; somehow, she managed to sound even more smug than Draco. "They got in on pure talent."
Malfoy was cold at first; then a deep fury rolled through his body. She was talking about Harry Potter. She thought he got in on talent. It was like she'd stolen all the pride he'd had in his father's approval. Without thinking, Draco moved in front of her and leaned forwards to speak, emphasizing his words.
"No one asked your opinion." He paused, letting it sink in, before adding, "You filthy little mudblood."
The gasps around him- even from a pair of Slytherins- told Draco everything he needed to know about the effectiveness of his words.
"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy-" Ron moved forwards, pulling out his broken wand- "Eat slugs!"
Draco stepped back instinctively, but he shouldn't have bothered. The spell backfired immediately, throwing Ron into the ground; Draco laughed half-heartedly as Ron began puking, but it wasn't really what he'd wanted.
If he was honest, he'd wanted Hermione- and Harry, even- to be impressed. With him, with his father's wealth, with his father's approval. Somehow, even this victory- watching and laughing as they ran towards the groundkeepers hut, trailing slime and slugs- well, it felt a little empty.
Ron might be an idiot, but at least he had friends.
*
It didn't take long after that for attacks to begin in earnest. It scared Draco, if he was honest; more so than he should have been, considering that he was pureblood; especially as he began to realize what the monster was.
A basilisk. A giant snake that kills with its eyes, attacking the mudblood students.
Draco's father had wanted this. But Draco was beginning to realize that he didn't want this at all.
For all his bravado, he didn't want anyone to die.
He stood in the library one night, watching through a gap in the bookshelves as Hermione studied. In his hands, he held the sheet of paper he'd torn out so long ago, at Flourish and Blots.
His father hadn't been impressed by his knowledge of the snake. In fact, he'd hit Draco across the face for bothering him. Despite that, Draco had held onto the sheet; he'd folded and unfolded it until it was softer than fabric. It was still legible; the snake somehow looked even more terrifying for all the creases in the paper.
Hermione could fix it.
It was so stupid. Hermione wasn't any more equipped than he was. But she was smart- she'd figure out, like Draco had, that it was a basilisk doing the attacking. And then she'd go further. She'd find a teacher, or take it to Harry Potter, or even take it all the way to Dumbledore- all the things that Draco's father would beat him for even considering. Maybe she'd even find a way to stop the snake herself; somehow, Draco didn't doubt that she could.
Hermione stood suddenly. She left her books on the table, and took off through the bookshelves; for a second, Draco thought she was leaving them behind. Then he realized that she was just taking a bathroom break, and he felt like an idiot all over again.
Now's my chance. Draco waited until she was out of sight, and then darted for her books. He left the paper on top of her essay, and then hid again behind the bookshelves, waiting for her to come back.
It seemed to take her forever. Draco wondered briefly if he'd made a mistake- if maybe she'd just throw the paper away, not even consider what it could mean. In fact, he was about to go rescue his precious stolen sheet when he heard soft footsteps.
Hermione sat down. She picked up a quill to start writing again- then stopped above the paper.
She frowned at it disapprovingly. Draco winced; he knew that she would never approve of ripping pages out of books. All the same, she picked it up.
It took a heartbeat. Then another. Draco was wondering if he should have left a more obvious hint when her eyes suddenly lit up; as he watched, she grabbed a quill pen and jotted something down on the paper, before picking up another book and searching the pages.
A deep sense of relief flooded Draco. He slipped quietly away from the bookshelves to let her work, making his way from the library and back towards his common room.
It wasn't over yet. Not by a longshot. But Hermione was on the case- and he had no doubt that she'd figure something out.
Somehow, she always did.