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Draco paced his private dormitory, chewing at the side of his thumb as he stared at the parchment dominating the wall across from the end of his bed. Sketched across the parchment was a scale drawing of the Hogwarts floorplan, with every hidden room cataloged. He wouldn't forget the Room of Requirement like the students before him.
However, unlike the predecessor to his wall art, the map only showed one set of footprints.
Hermione Granger.
Ever since his forced to return to Hogwarts for his eighth year as part of his parole, he'd found himself drawn to Hermione Granger, who returned without her idiotic friends.
Well- Harry was less of an idiot than Weasel. Not that that said much.
Draco felt responsible for the girl in some strange way. She gained the worst of scars on his floor, and his words left dent after dent in her childhood days. For some of it, he couldn't be found at active fault, but Draco would be faulted in many moments.
Upon their return to Hogwarts, they had classes together since Draco was not lagging too far behind Hermione in marks, so he bit the bullet and extended a symbolic olive branch. Draco apologized and asked if they could start over or at least start a bit fresher, and Hermione outstretched her hand and waited. It had taken Draco an uncomfortable amount of time to realize she was asking to shake his hand, and while ignoring the slight smirk on her face, she gripped her much smaller hand.
She never said anything, but he had become hyper-aware of her from then on. The perfume of her hair when she breezed by him, the crackling of magic seeping from her pores at odd times, and the way she tucked her wand in her hair as she wandlessly managed the simplest tasks. Draco wasn't one to find someone enchanting- but the most straightforward things enticed him. He would follow her, a reasonable distance away, along dusty corridors- watching her as she took in each portrait or odd landmark. With the War behind them, Draco was well aware Hermione had been on the reconstruction team during his tenure in a Dementor-less Azkaban. While he wasn't allowed out until his trial, Theo had brought him a fair bit of news and kept him up to speed.
Unable to help himself, he would poke and prod at her mind. He never pushed more than to get the imprint of her emotions, but he was always surprised at the reverence she held. Each push and poke showed him a young woman reverent in her appreciation of the Castle, the walls holding her sorrow and guilt as she only embraced them when she gazed upon the cold stone. Draco knew how much was lost at the Battle of Hogwarts, especially on the side of the Order, whose deaths were monumental compared to the faceless Death Eaters that fell to the Castles's defenders.
So, he would follow her, and there would be times when he would walk while keeping that gentle press against her mind, and Draco would entertain the idea he was walking beside her instead of paces behind her. Hermione's mind was defenseless in these moments, her emotions loud and straining to be heard. Draco knew it was because of this he could feel those imprints despite not looking her in the eye- he was also aware this was the only time Hermione thought she could let those emotions move through her. Whenever her happiness brushed him, his heart soared in response, and when his heart lurched with her anger, he had to fight the rage that rose unbidden.
Everything she did called to him like no other woman had, and Draco had tried.
Despite his recent history, he had his fair pick of Slytherin women, and he wanted for nothing. But something about how her skirt would rise at her thighs or the slope of her neck made his blood heat, and he would find himself needing a quick distraction to continue his day. Many a Slytherin female had found herself willing to participate in these moments of distraction. Despite their best and most hopeful intentions, his mind never strayed from the curly-haired witch that had taken up his entire vision.
They never spoke after their initial olive branch moment, but it didn't stop Draco's obsession from growing.
Taking a break from his pacing, he leaned towards the map, his eyes scanning her usual places. His blood pressure began rising as Draco realized she wasn't there. He checked the map, his hands resting on the dresser below it as he leaned in. Hermione wasn't in her private Gryffindor tower suite, she wasn't in the library, the Room of Requirement was empty, and he didn't see any footprints in any hallways.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her footprints by the Black Lake- stationary, and his stomach filled with dread. With a swish of his wand, the parchment blanked, and he grabbed his cloak before leaving his room and slamming the door behind him.
~
Once in the hallway, Draco stopped to compose himself into his usual careless mask before taking long strides down the hallway, passing the shared dormitories and through the Slytherin common room. He took a quick stock as he passed through the central room of the Slytherin Dormitory, seeing what students were there and what students weren't. With a sinking stomach, he noticed a few of the younger students were missing- the older ones too involved in their studies and own worlds to acknowledge Draco was there.
Upon their return to the Castle, the Pureblood families that chose to send their Slytherin students back to Hogwarts were the families that hadn't been active participants in the War- but they did support it in their silence. Because they had lost so little in the final Battle of Hogwarts and hadn't suffered under the heel of Voldemort in his return, they still held the same beliefs despite the War's outcome. Active Participation, at least in the sense of the War, meant children fighting and dying for a cause they shouldn't have been aware of, to begin with, all while families fought financially in the shadows.
The students of Slytherin whose families assisted the cause had done so with their silence- protecting their families by staying out of the way and without projecting their bigotry openly.
However, upon their return, some students decided they needed to double down on their parents' teachings. While burning brands into their skin or sending curses into the sky wasn't their thing, they bullied Muggleborn students and weren't kind to anyone that was 'less' in blood status than them. While the older Snakes, decimated by the Second Wizarding War, had done their best to corral them, there was only so much they could do. When Professor Snape was in charge of Slytherin House, respect was given to the older years- but with his death and the defeat of Voldemort, the new Pureblood problem children found them weak and only listened as far as would convenience them.
With a turn on the heel of his dragonhide boots, Draco was out the Slytherin porthole, up the sloping stone corridors, and headed to the massive front doors of the Castle.
He only hoped he was wrong.
~
With a gasp of icy air already hurting his lungs and his eyes squinting against the bright light, his eyes followed the lines of footprints leading to the Black Lake. A smear of black cloaks near the water's edge blocked all but the ends of Hermione Granger's riotous curls as they stood before her. Draco exhaled at the crackle of magic, its tendrils snapping at his periphery as it always did when it came to Granger- however, on most days, it was a gentle caress.
He bustled across the snowy ground of Hogwarts, the wind catching his cloak to make the edges snap as his lengthy strides carried him to where the group stood, seeing the end of what one of the Second Year students that hadn't been present the year before when the Battle of Hogwarts had taken place- they had been privileged enough to be homeschooled during the worst of the War and only returned during peacetime. Draco wasn't sure which family the boy was from, but it was a freshly minted Pureblood tree, hoping to use the devastation of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to their advantage.
"...just because you know the Potter boy doesn't mean Mudbloods have any business here." The boy sneered, his face twisted in disgust as his companions jeered and kicked snow at the lone Gryffindor. "Salazar knows why you were brought back- can't imagine there's much you need before you return to where you belong."
"What makes you think I'm headed anywhere besides Wizarding London?" Despite the crackling of her magic in the air, Hermione's voice was calm. Her eyes zeroed in on the group's primary aggressor: "I have just as much a right to be here as any of you."
Hermione's statement set the group off, and they all laughed at the idea that she belonged anywhere, the sound echoing across the frozen lake.
"Oh, do you, little Mudblood?" That same boy leaned in, his hair greased much like Draco's used to be, but instead, it was a gross dark brown tint glinting in the bright sun. "I hear not much changes for you outside these walls—the Dark Lord saw to that."
"Well, well- what have we here?" Draco had enough, "A party I wasn't invited to? What a shame."
The gathered Snakes seemed to wilt in his presence—not enough to be contrite—just enough to take some of the edge off the conversation. Hermione looked shocked as she took him in, her eyes dragging over the hands in his pockets that pushed his robe back from his body up to Draco's slate-grey eyes. Her eyes widened at the rage she found despite the passive look on his face.
"Not only are we invoking the Dark Lord, someone who none of you even met," Draco's face hardened at that, making the Snakes wilt even more, "but we've decided to attack a Merlin be damned War Heroine! And, furthering our idiocy, she's also the Headmistress's favorite and top of the eighth-year class."
Uneasy looks began to be shared between most of the first- and second-year students. However, the lead aggressor seemed to be biting his tongue, and the look on his face turned more murderous by the second. Draco decided that was the one he would put pressure on as he walked over to stand in front of Hermione, not enough to block her but enough to force some distance.
"Usually, when my fellow Slytherins do something, I try to find the best in it- truly." Draco sighed in mock exasperation, his eyes rolling, "But this was one of the most stupid things I've seen a student do- and I can't give points for creativity either. You dunderheads must know that if Granger wanted you all laid out and useless, she absolutely could, right? Please tell me you thought this through."
"Oh, please, " the leader scoffed, finding his voice, and crossed his arms with a disgusted look. She could be Merlin's favorite, and I'd be more concerned about his failing mental state than her accomplishments. The Mudblood got lucky- she had one Pureblood and one Half-Blood."
"That word..." Draco trailed off, looking down at the small hand that had come up to rest on his forearm as Hermione had stepped up to stand beside him. He looked up at her in shock, his eyes catching hers and seeing the pain reflected before she tucked it away behind a shield.
"That word means nothing coming from half-wits who couldn't duel themselves out of a paper bag." Hermione smiled softly at him, her hand warm on his forearm as she looked her tormentors in the eye, "Please know that I've faced worse than you, and I will destroy better than you."
Again, the leader scoffed, nudging a boy next to him and gesturing to her with the look of 'Can you believe this?' before pulling out his wand and stepping towards her, causing her to tense.
Before she could respond herself, Draco had already moved. With the flick of his wand, the self-proclaimed leader found himself suspended by his ankle, which was high in the air.
"You know," Draco drawled, his voice belaying the rage in his eyes, "My Godfather, may he rest in peace, said doing this to someone was horrendous. I'm finding this more humorous than horrendous."
Hermione didn't move from behind; her her eyes trained on the dangling student as he attempted to twist his way around. His cloak obscured his face and made it impossible to get his eyes on Draco to try to retaliate, "Granger, should we give him the Mad-Eye treatment? I can say from experience that it's not the best feeling." Draco smirked, his eyes drifting over to take in the thinly veiled amusement on Hermione's face, "But then again, that wasn't. Was it? Just some crazy Death Eater. Not that these fucks would know the difference- their mummies and daddies kept them away from the scary War."
"Let him down, Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with her wand still clasped tightly in her hand. "Merlin knows he won't learn anything- couldn't even protect himself from getting hung upside down. That's basic nonsense."
"As the lady commands," Draco shot her slight a slight grin, chuckling lightly as Hermione's face morphed into surprise. He then canceled his spell and let the Second Year drop heavily to the ground with a thud and a painful groan. Leveling a look at him that Draco couldn't read, Hermione flicked her wand, making the boy flip over on his back before gesturing to Draco to handle the groaning boy on the ground.
"Looks like it's your lucky day.approached over to the prone boy, his dragonhide boots crunching against the rocky, snowy ground alongside the Black Lake. He kicked some of the cold, snowy grit into the face of the boy before leaning down and smacking his cheek harshly. "Hermione Granger has decided to spare you her brand of mercy. Trust me- you should thank her for it. You are my problem now, little Second Year."
"Malfoy." Hermione made her way ovher own boots crunching along the same path he did, before she leaned down, her breath tickling at his ear in hot puffs as she spoke lowly to him, "You're a good boy for taking care of this for me."
Draco melted and did as she asked.