Vindicated

Title: Vindicated

Author: Quicksilver Eyes

Rating: R later on

Pairing: Draco/Hermione

Summary: Draco's always looked out for number one, but a bushy headed Gryffindor, an escalating war, and old secrets long buried but not forgotten make this harder than one would expect.

Warning:

Word Count: 7,736

Disclaimer: I do not nor have I ever owned the Harry Potter series. It is the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. so please don't sue. I'm just borrowing

AN: Not HBP compatible although parts will be used. You'll see what I mean...

Chapter One - Potions and Molds

'Dammit', Draco Malfoy thought as he stormed down the corridor. It was 11:00 PM on a Friday night and he was making his rounds patrolling Hogwarts' hallowed halls for wayward students. He didn't object to the patrolling per se, but for Merlin's sake, Head Boys should not have to give up their Friday nights to chase around sticky-fingered first years who thought they had something to prove. There were other prefects who could have been patrolling in his stead and he highly doubted anyone would be out roaming the halls now either. Friday nights were spent in common rooms celebrating the upcoming weekend and having survived the week (with all body parts intact at least).

To top it all off, Draco had seen not one sign of his fellow patrolling partner and Head Girl tonight. If he didn't know better, he would have suspected she'd skived off tonight's duties and was currently brushing her teeth and not combing the shaggy animal on her head in preparations for bed. Yes he could almost hear her voice now telling her enchanted mirror to wake her up at whatever ungodly hour it was that she rose in the morning. What really irked him was how she'd been the one to suggest they take this rotation together in the first place.

"Malfoy, we should patrol together on Friday," she'd said to him as soon as he walked through the doors to the library after only the first day of classes. She had been sitting at a table facing the doors making it seem as if she had been simultaneously looking out for when he came in and making herself visible and available for anyone who needed her. 'Such a good little Head Girl,' Draco had thought. Her voice had been suitably hushed for Madam Pince's liking, but it somehow managed to cut through the heavy silence that always pervaded the space and the light murmurings of other students to reach his ears. He didn't know how she did it, but he could always pick out her voice, grating though it was, in any crowd. He suspected it was from the way she was always lecturing on about some little know, little cared for bit of trivia.

Either way, when he heard her suggest they willingly patrol together, he was immediately on guard. There was no love lost between them and that she would consentingly perform any task with him made him suspicious.

"Granger, you must be out of your bushy little head. There's no way I'm spending more time with you than I have to, especially on a Friday night," he said with a laugh.

Choosing not to respond to the disparaging comment about her hair (which really wasn't true... anymore at least... well not as much!), she sighed and said "That's exactly what we need to work against. Patrolling together will serve the dual purpose of showing the other prefects that despite being Head Boy and Girl, we won't be expecting preferential treatment," Draco scoffed. "And promoting interhouse unity," she'd barreled on in that annoyingly superior tone she had. This was something that Dumbledore had been going on about for quite some time now. He had reiterated it the day before during his meeting with the two head students. It seemed he'd made an impression on her to say the least.

Draco knew she had a point. As the Heads, it was their job to promote cohesion and order within the masses, but to his thinking, there was a reason he was Head Boy and not someone else. The position should have meant that it afforded him certain accommodations such not having to spend his Friday night wandering the halls and threatening to call the Bloody Baron on Peeves if he didn't stop overturning the suits of armor!

"Granger, I know you don't have a life and probably spend Friday nights like every other, buried in a book, but that doesn't mean the rest of us are in the same boat. So you're jus going to have to reschedule because I'm not doing it." Then he'd tossed her one of his patented and copyrighted trademark Malfoy smirks and walked away thinking that would be the end of it. But no, the Gryffindor, who was just too damn stubborn for her own good, had followed him into the stacks.

"Listen to me Malfoy! I will not change the schedule and we will patrol together on Friday. We agreed to share scheduling duties which mean that you must respect my choice. You can have input when it's your turn to draw up next week's schedule and that's final!" Such fire. They'd had some fantastic rows together in their time, especially in sixth year. Following the telltale signs of an impending eruption, her two bodyguards always backed up a few steps and crowds gathered for the show. After that unfortunate incident in third year when she'd sucker punched him (the only way she'd ever get one in), it seemed their fights had gotten more and more heated. Oh they never got physical like he would with the other two thirds of the golden trio, but Potty and Weasel could never keep up with the battle of words that always ensued between them. No one could.

Another smirk crossed his face. "Yes I do get to draw up next week's schedule don't I?" An apprehensive look crossed her face.

"Yes," she'd said uncertainly.

"And you don't get to have any input?"

"Your point would be what?" Her eyes were narrowing now.

"Very well. We'll patrol on Friday." With that he concentrated on finding the potions book he was looking for leaving her no option but to wander back to her table with a slight irritated shake of her head. She'd expected him to lash out at her. Silly Gryffindors, always laying their cards out on the table. Something told Draco that Hermione would be spending next week's patrolling duties on Wednesday night with Pansy Parkinson. And if he wasn't mistaken, they had a potions essay due on Thursday...

However, that still did not ease the boredom of the current situation. One more hour. He'd walked the same corridors long enough and decided to veer off the path so to speak. Hermione had given him the west wing to patrol while she took the east, both starting on the first floor and making their way up. If something were to happen, they'd hopefully always be on the same floor to hear a call or see the red sparks that signaled danger. He hadn't seen hide or tail of her at all tonight though he would have thought she'd check up on him to make sure he was doing his job. Strange.

He was up on the second floor and had just passed the stone gargoyles that led to the headmaster's office when he heard a peculiar sound. His wand was in his hand within milliseconds pointed in the direction from which he thought the sound had come. It had sounded like the ethereal high-pitched squeal of a girl muffled through a wall. It was coming from the direction of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Silently, he edged towards the door, wand firmly in hand. He could hear another voice too, this one not quite so piercing but female nonetheless. He slowly eased the door open a crack and silently thanked Filch (surely the first time in his life) for obsessively oiling every door hinge, even if it wasn't still in use. He barely stifled a gasp at the sight that greeted him.

The first thing he noticed was Granger. There was sweat on her brow, she had taken off her outer robe, and her hair had turned into a puff ball in the humid air. She was stirring the contents of a cauldron that was emitting smoke, purple light, and the occasional spark. Draco almost gagged on the sickly sweet cloying smell coming from it. What the hell was she doing? Then a ghost came through the wall of one of the stalls. It was Moaning Myrtle. She perched on the sink not at all surprised to see Hermione's makeshift potions lab in her domain.

"Did you see anyone out there," Hermione asked.

"Nope, there's no one."

"You really need to be quieter Myrtle. I could get into some serious trouble if anyone catches me."

"Well you can't drop such a bomb on me and expect me to keep quiet. Who are you patrolling with tonight anyways?"

"Oh just Draco Malfoy," she said. Draco took great umbrage at that. He'd never heard his name uttered with such carelessness. Hate, annoyance, flirtation yes, but never carelessness.

"He's probably in the Slytherin common room by now, but I needed to patrol with someone tonight who I wouldn't have to worry about looking for me."

Dressing up her ulterior motive in interhouse unity to throw him off? How very Slytherin of her. Draco would never have suspected there was more to their pairing if he hadn't stumbled upon her tonight. He was quite surprised at himself actually for not skiving off like she had thought, but he was taking his head duties seriously. He decided that he would stay and see what she was up to. If he had to make a rough estimate, Draco would have guessed she was breaking at least six school rules. Plenty to hold over her head.
"Besides, it's not a bomb. Everyone in the school has been expecting it."

"No, everyone in the school thinks you and Ron will get together, not that you will sneak around school brewing love potions in the girls' toilet to get you two together."

A love potion, eh? Why Granger, I never knew you had it in you...

"It's not a love potion. It's just a little something that will bring any love he has for me to the surface. So I'm not creating love where there was none, just encouraging what was there all along," she rationalized. "Once he realizes his feelings, I'll be able to do the rest on my own. He's just so thickheaded he can't even see what's in front of him."

"Then why do you need a potion? Can't you just... I don't know, seduce him or something?"

A pink tinge crept up Hermione's neck. "I've tried!"

"What happened?"

She mumbled something that escaped Draco's ears.

"Evidently it escaped Myrtle's as well. "What did you say?"

Hermione sighed. "He, um, laughed and I threw a chess board at his head."

At breakfast, Draco had been wondering what that unsightly bump had been. He just thought Weasel's little sister had beaten him up again.

A dreamy expression crossed Myrtle's face. "I remember when I tried to seduce Andrew Dinker. I followed him everywhere and read him poetry and sang him songs that I made up." Then she began warbling:

'Andy, you're so sweet like candy.

We belong together and can be forever.

Why don't you die so we can float off into the sky...?'

"Oh... how... sweet, Myrtle. What happened?"

A sick smile tilted Myrtle's lips up. "Oh he died of hypothermia from all the cold spots I made when I followed him around, but he didn't turn into a ghost. Oh well."

Silence. Neither Hermione nor Draco behind the door knew how to respond to that.

Then Myrtle let out a guffaw. "Hahahaha! Just kidding! He transferred to Durmstrang. I hear he writes pop songs for the Weird Sisters these days with the odd line from one of my poems stuck in."

"Oh." Myrtle was an odd one, Hermione was sure.

"What exactly did you do," Myrtle asked.

"What?"

"What did you do to seduce Ron?"

The pink tinge became a tomato color. She stalled by adding a few ingredients to the potion. "One night Harry was serving detention with Snape and Ron and I were alone in the common room. I don't know what came over me, but I remembered some of the hints from of the girls' magazines I'd read over the summer when I was making my plan. I went to the bathroom, rolled up my skirt, undid the top three buttons of my shirt and threw some water on my hair. He didn't notice when I came out, just kept doing his stupid divination homework. He didn't even realize that he'd predicted his death by stampeding thestrals twice. So then I sat next to him really close and he asked me to move over so he could write properly! He just kept talking about Quidditch and his brother's newest joke shop gag. I got so fed up that I snatched the quill from his hand and, and, and then I kissed him! And do you know what he did next?!" Hermione pacing back and forth was on a roll now, determined to recount every moment even if she combusted from embarrassment. "He laughed! In my mouth. It was a weird high pitched nervous sound that I've never heard from him. I opened my eyes and he was staring right at me. He asked me what I was doing and I said 'Seducing you' and then he gulped really loudly, pulled away, and told me he had to go to bed. He got all of his stuff together really quickly then sprinted up the stair, but he paused at the top. He asked me if the house elves had accidentally shrunk my clothes again and that's when I threw the board at him..." She petered off sheepishly and hid her face in her hair. Myrtle clamped her fingers over her mouth to prevent another high-pitched giggle from escaping.

Draco couldn't help it, he snorted. He tried to stifle it, but it still escaped him. Luckily, Granger had been too busy ranting to hear him. This was just too funny. To think of Granger as a sexual being was just too close to pigs flying, hell freezing over, and Armageddon all rolled into one. She wasn't bad looking or anything, Draco just thought of her as sexless. Grangers read books, answered questions, and wrote essays. They did not like boys, try to seduce them, or make potions to ensnare them. (But Weasley was still an idiot for passing up the opportunity she had been giving him.)

Never in a million years would he think Granger could ever do something like what she had just described. It seemed they were both underestimating each other these days, still using old observations and assumptions to judge each other. This proved she wasn't infallible like she always pretended to be and that all was not well within the ranks of the golden trio.

"He still hasn't said more than the odd word to me since then. I just don't understand! He hasn't been that awkward since fifth year. Last year alone he went out with Lavender, Parvati, Romilda, Padma, Lisa, Mandy, Hannah, and Susan. Those were just the official relationships and I'm sure there were a lot more that I don't know about. There's no reason for him to not ask me out. This is our last year and it's time one of us at least took some initiative," she said squaring her shoulders and taking up her stirrer again.

"I didn't want it to have to come to this, but the potion was my backup plan if all else failed. And it has. Not even the special perfume Madam Puddifoot gave me worked. Ron started sneezing uncontrollably and Neville Longbottom tried to paw me in the halls. I had to run back to the dorms during my free period for a quick shower. Then there were the chocolates in the common room that I got from Diagon Alley. He refused to eat them because they were coconut! Harry and Ginny got into them when I was tutoring a third year and, well, they had to excuse themselves pretty quickly. I found this potion recipe in 101 Legal Ways To Make Him Love You in Flourish and Blotts. I mean, it's not illegal because it's not forcing Ron to love me."

Hermione picked up something from the makeshift worktable she'd set up on the sink counter that looked suspiciously like red hair. When she dropped them in, the potion hissed and bubbled, then turned green.

"The first night back, Parvati and Lavender were in the common room talking about the boys they'd met over the summer and when I came and sat down next to them, they started talking about Transfiguration! Like I wouldn't be able to understand or want to hear about their summer exploits. I spend enough time in classes and studying. I know this doesn't sound like me, but I just want this year to be different. After what happened at the ministry in fifth year and the end of last year, I know how quickly things can go bad. We're growing up and with the war going on outside, this may be our last chance to be impulsive, to be selfish... to just act our age. I know I deserve that as much as everyone else." Hermione got that determined look in her eyes that she usually reserved for when defending the rights of "helpless" creatures and stirred her potion with renewed vigor.

"Well why does it have to be Ron? You could get plenty of other guys," Myrtle volunteered helpfully.

Hermione laughed derisively. "Nobody thinks of me like that. I didn't even think of myself like that until this summer. Sure boys have had crushes on me, but not for the right reasons. Ravenclaws just admire my mind and Hufflepuffs are too intimidated to ever make a move. Of course I want a guy who respects my intellect, but I also want one who appreciates my other assets too. It's like the boys think I'll get angry with them if they show any interest in anything but my brain. I'm a girl and just once, I'd like to be treated like one." Restless, Hermione paced the narrow bathroom floor from one stall door the sink which hid the portal that led deep into the bowels of the castle. "Ron and I love each other and are meant to be together. All I'm doing is speeding things up."

"What about that hairy fellow with the bad English?"

"I assume you mean Viktor. He's a full time seeker now for the Bulgarian Quidditch team. They're constantly touring and during the off season, he's at home in Bulgaria. He's made it clear that he really likes me, but I don't want a long distance relationship right now. And truth be told, he's a bit too much of the strong silent type for me. During his stay in fourth year, our relationship had been more, er, physical than anything else." At Myrtle's raised eyebrow, Hermione flushed and said, "Oh get your mind out of the gutter! It was just a few heated snogs here and there whenever we could get away." Hermione stopped pacing in front of the cauldron staring into its depths. "But this is seventh year now and I think I want more than a handful of kisses."

Draco was stunned. Who would have thought that Granger had these types of feelings? Her pitiful romantic life had never seemed to bother her all that much before. Any potential suitors who weren't scared away by her two guardians had been intimidated away by her grades and confidence. She confused the boys because most girls deferred to them and she saw no reason to. She was smart, she knew it, and would never consider hiding it. That she was showing herself as anything but the confident, know-it-all snob that she usually was boggled Draco's mind.

Technically she was female, yes, but she had never acted the part. She didn't giggle and gossip like some of the other girls in her year. She didn't even have girlfriends other than the she-weasel and maybe that weird girl with the strange jewelry who was always talking about those crumple-thingies. Her skirts had always been knee-length and her shirts starched and buttoned to the neck. Looking at her now, Draco could see that this was no longer true. She was still modestly dressed, but she didn't look like Professor McGonagall had selected her clothing. Her skirt was cut above the knee and clung to her hips, showing off shapely legs. Her shirt was more fitted and accentuated her waist. The top few buttons were undone and the hot room and titillating conversation had given her cheeks a healthy flush. Her hair had also changed, it no longer seemed to swallow her face, but rather framed it quite nicely. It would never be tame, but it had a unique beauty and life about it that she had grown into. Hermione had grown up and out, but no one had noticed. No one until now that was.

Draco was already thinking of ways to use his newfound knowledge to his advantage now that the chinks in her armor were bared.

"I'm sorry for ranting, I just needed to get that off my chest to someone. I can't tell Ginny because she's always had boyfriends and it would be a bit embarrassing. It would also probably weird her out if I enlisted her help in landing her brother," she said with a wry smile.

'It's getting late and I need to get to bed. I'll be popping in now and then throughout the day tomorrow to check on the potion. We'll talk again tomorrow night?"

"You make it a question like I have anywhere to go."

"Oh, er, sorry Myrtle. You won't ell anyone will you?"

"Who would I tell? No one likes me anyways. This is the most fun I've had since before Ernie Macmillan told everyone I like to watch people in the prefects' bathroom."

Draco knew it hadn't been paranoia all those times!

"Well you must admit it is quite a shock to dive under and see you sitting on the bottom."

Myrtle giggled, "Ernie was just mad that I'd caught him with Hannah Abbott".

"He said he was teaching her how to swim."

A wicked grin tilted Myrtle's lips. "Yes, I believe they were practicing the breast stroke". Hermione shuddered at the thought and Draco wished he could obliviate the image that conjured from his memory.

Hermione went about cleaning up. She created a waterproof fire in one of the toilets and levitated the cauldron over it. She covered it, then with another sweep of her wand, the room was cleaned leaving no signs of what she had been doing. "Goodnight, Myrtle." Hermione began walking towards the door and Draco decided it was time to get out of there. He quickly backpedaled and barely made it around the corner before Hermione opened to door. Turning, he headed off for his own room. He'd planned on visiting the Slytherin common room tonight, but he decided against it. He had too much to think about.

Just outside the girls' bathroom, Hermione paused to make sure no one was coming. Her eyes could pick out nothing moving and her ears heard no sound beyond the soft snore of the portraits and occasional creak of a shifting suit of armor. Just then, a furrow creased he brow as she caught a hint of a peculiar scent that did not seem to belong in the deserted stone hall. It was fresh and clean with a hint of spice and something else, something that eluded her. It was comforting and familiar in the way that Hogwarts A History was yet Hermione was sure she had never encountered it before. She wanted to wrap it around her, burrow deep into its folds, and get lost in its layers, but then a quiet meow and eyes that glowed in the dark jerked her from her reverie and sent her on her way, all thoughts of the aroma banished from her mind.

----------------------

Hermione hurried to her private room making sure to stay within the shadows and watching out for Mrs. Norris' counterpart, who was never too far away. She wasn't going to Gryffindor tower because she was still feeling a bit awkward about the other night in the common room with Ron and wanted to avoid as much tension as possible until the potion was ready. She made it safely and whispered the password, forked tongues (it was Draco's turn to choose), to the portraits of Milo, the Greek artist and Nika, his inspiring muse who guarded the entrance to the apartment. The two had a dramatic on again off again whirlwind of a romance. They reminded Hermione of a cross between hippies of the 60's era and the main characters in one of her mother's torrid romance novels.

Currently they appeared to be on again. So much so that they didn't seem to hear Hermione's approach and the password she'd whispered. They were in a heated embrace with Nika pressed tightly to Milo and his arms encircling her waist. One of his hands was tangled in her long curly red hair and the other was on the small of her back inching lower and lower...

"Milo!" Hermione decided to interrupt before they went much farther. Milo's hand stopped moving and he looked up with glazed slightly confused eyes. However, his face broke into a smile when he saw who had interrupted him, but he made no move to take his had off of Nika's bum. Bloody exhibitionists. Hermione had caught them in much worse positions and considered herself lucky this time. Nika twisted in Milo's arms so that she could get a better look at Hermione and smiled as she took in her appearance.

"What have you been up to, Hermione," she asked with a coy knowing smile.

Hermione blushed when she realized what Nika was implying. "Hahaha, not that, I assure you." She supposed spending so long in that stuffy bathroom breathing in the potion fumes could give her the disheveled just shagged look. If only. Maybe her answer would be different when the potion was ready...

She gave the two lovers the password and went quickly inside. She was still awed by the beauty of the apartment. The front door led into the high-ceilinged common room that she shared with Draco. The stone walls were polished and glittered with bits of mineral and crystal that reflected light from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Hermione loved to walk barefoot on the lush rug that seemed to swallow her toes. A stuffed couch and fat armchairs sat in the middle of the room across from of a great fireplace on the right-hand wall. To the side, there was a mahogany desk for studying. Adjoining the room was a small kitchen made for lazy weekend breakfasts and fixing snacks. A staircase led up to the living quarters with Draco's room to the left and Hermione's to the right. On the other side of Hermione's door was a small area that looked down over the common room and ended in French doors leading to a balcony that looked out onto the lake.

Hermione tip-toed across the room and up the stairs, pausing to notice the light coming from under Draco's door. She eased her own open, slipped in, then flopped onto the bed.

"Rough day?"

Hermione turned her head in the direction of the voice and sighed. "Very." She was talking to the portrait of Esmerelda Vanlow, Hogwart's first ever Head Girl. She had been placed in the room to give Hermione Head Girl advice whenever needed. She was also a Gryffindor. "Snape is back to being his horrible self in potions, a plant puked on me in Herbology and I had to oversee a third year study period. To top it all off, Ron still won't look at me."

Esmerelda tried to hide her smile behind her hand. She was succeeding for the most part, which was more than she could have said when Hermione first told her about her failed seduction attempts. "I'm sure he'll get over it in time."

"I suppose," Hermione said noncommittally and went back to staring up at the burgundy ceiling of her canopy bed. Her room was done all in creams and dark reds with gold overtones. The framing of her bed was made of a dark rich wood. Her comforter was burgundy and cream with gold trim and the rug on her floor was beautifully patterned. Lions and griffins and other mythological creatures ran around it, sometimes playfully trying to bat at Hermione's feet whenever she walked across it.

Hermione hadn't told Esmerelda about the newest installment of her plan to win Ron. She didn't know how exactly the portraits system worked and didn't want to risk Esmerelda blowing her plan by going off and telling someone. Although Hermione didn't think she would tell, it was only the end of the first week and they were still getting to know each other. She didn't want to take any chances. Maybe she was just thinking about what she might have done had their places been switched (a year ago, she'd never have cooked up such a scheme). Besides, she'd had enough of people laughing at her and wanted to salvage what little bit of pride she still had left.

Hermione got up and shuffled over to her wardrobe to pick out something to sleep in. "I better go to bed. It's getting late." Then she went into the bathroom to wash up. She loved her bathroom, it was clean, pale blue and tiled. There was a shower with a tub sitting next to it. The tub was by no means as big as the one in the prefects' bathroom, but it was very comfortable with intricately wrought gold handles and knobs. She planned on taking a nice long soak with scented candles all around her one of these days when she found the time...

There were also his and her sinks which was great because Hermione didn't think she could stand Malfoy's products taking up all of the space around it (she did mention that she shared the bathroom with him, didn't she?). Hermione locked the door on Malfoy's end then stepped up to her own sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She did that thing that all girls do where she scrutinized her face, pulled her hair back, and scrutinized some more turning her head this way and that. She didn't think she was by any means a stunner, but she couldn't see anything horribly wrong either. She sighed, let her hair fall to her shoulders again and made a face. "You shouldn't do that dear. It might get stuck that way." Hermione gave a start at the disembodied voice. She'd never get used to talking mirrors. Maybe it was one of those things that you had to grow up around and as a muggleborn who'd spent most of her life with inanimate mirrors, it would always take her by surprise. "Thanks," she muttered and set about her nightly routine.

Returning to her room wearing one of her dad's old university shirts and a pair of short shorts, she slid under her cover and extinguished the lights.

"Goodnight, Esmerelda."

"Goodnight Hermione."

She lay there thinking about Ron, the potion, and Myrtle until she could no longer keep her eyes open. It really had been a long day.

Draco on the other hand was having a much harder time falling asleep. He got up and started pacing the small stretch of floor between his bed and desk, every so often running careless fingers through silver-blonde hair that did not quite reach his shoulders yet. He'd heard Granger come in some time ago and she had only caused his thoughts to churn about in his head more furiously. Something was horribly wrong with the universe. In mere minutes, she had turned him upside down without even knowing it. His perception of her turned out to be all wrong, everyone's perception of her was. Draco wondered what else he had been wrong about. There were certainties in life that did not change, and the know-it-all-bookworm was one of them. He couldn't have her running about breaking the rules and having feelings, he just couldn't. He didn't realize how much he depended on it, but recently he had gained a greater appreciation of the static things in life. His life had gone through some radical changes that year and he'd worked tirelessly to bring it back under his control. It was disconcerting to see it changed so suddenly again despite his efforts.

After Draco's father had been captured in the Ministry and put into jail, things went downhill. It had been a terrible blow to the Malfoy name, not because Lucius had been doing something illegal, but because he had been caught doing it. If there was one thing his father had always taught Draco, it was to never get caught. There was no amount of money that would persuade the Ministry of Magic to look the other way this time. Aurors and other lackeys were constantly watching the manor and stopping in for surprise searches like a neighbor would for tea or a cup of sugar. Whispers now followed Draco and his mother whenever he escorted her in public (because she refused to hide). He was unused to that kind of treatment because people had always deferred to him. Maybe that was why he always reacted badly to the golden trio; they never gave him the respect he was used to (and made him question if he even deserved it in the first place). It was overwhelming to be suddenly disdained, hated and worse yet pitied so openly by the very people who would have considered themselves blessed to be allowed to wash his feet. It was a shock, but Narcissa taught him to ignore the busybodies and to hold his head high. He was stronger now than before his father's downfall and had learned who he could truly depend on.

Children often follow their parents' lead and when Draco arrived at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he found himself to be in much different standing than when he had left it. Gone were the looks of reverence and pining from his housemates to be replaced with contempt and more pity. He was suddenly infamous instead of famous. However, they all failed to understand one thing: the Prince of Slytherin gave his throne to no one. His father's arrest had been a blow, but it didn't signify the end of his reign. Draco'd had to fight all of the upstarts who had thought the way had been cleared for them to seize his crown. They didn't fight like lions roaring on the open savanna, but like snakes that struck in opportune moments when you weren't looking. Guerrilla warfare in halls of Hogwarts. However, Draco had emerged the victor and now no one could claim he had not earned his right to rule. His people respected him and looked to him for support.

Perhaps worst of all was the fact that the Malfoys were no longer favored by Voldemort. His favor had always afforded them protection and respect from all of the other dark families, not just the ones that were Death Eaters. Even when Voldemort had been gone, the dark wizards still maintained the ranks he had established and Lucius remained at the top. Draco never knew what his father had done to get there, but he assumed it was because Malfoys were always leaders and Lucius had set the bar high for him. But now, he feared he would have to take the dark mark when he left Hogwarts in order to atone for his father's sins. He did not want to serve the madman that the Dark Lord had become.

However, Draco was a Malfoy and could deal with everything that the world had thrown at him up to that point. He was like a cat that always landed on its feet. He was young and cunning and would figure something out he always told himself and he was usually right. Sixth year had been hard, but he'd had the support of his mother and a few close friends to see him through.

He'd been almost to the end and could see the summer hols in the distance if he squinted a bit. But life is never quite that easy.

It had been a warm June evening when Draco's life spun out of control; it had been his birthday, June 5^th, actually. He'd been walking through the corridors on his way to dinner and enjoying the brief respite he'd gotten from his slightly overly-exuberant friends who were intent on making his seventeenth birthday the best one ever. There was a genuine swagger to his step that had been somewhat less authentic during the difficult year. And why not? He was a man now come of age, had survived the school year, and things were finally looking up.

Then suddenly, he found himself looking up, quite literally at the stone ceiling of the hall. What the...?! He couldn't for the life of him figure out what had happened, but the world had tilted on it's axis. Or perhaps it was just him. Either way, he found himself flat on his back. He didn't move for several seconds, then when nothing else happened, he got up, smoothed his robes down, and thanked Merlin no one had been there to see the Prince of Slytherin lose his cool. He resumed walking, but he hadn't taken five steps before it happened again and kept happening.

This time he fell to his hands and knees. The world was spinning and he couldn't tell which way was up. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. His arms gave way to his weight and he sprawled once more on the ground. Something invisible was pushing down on his chest grinding his shoulder blades into the chilly flagstone beneath him. It got heavier and grew claws, no longer trying to squash him, but worse, it was trying to get inside of him. He could feel his rib cage straining with the pressure and imagined the beast was a dog digging a hole for its bone inside of his chest. Draco had never heard of such a beast, nor could he fathom how one would have gotten into the castle. He was losing touch with reality. A bright shimmering golden light filled his vision and the sounds of his pounding heart and strangled gasping breathe were drowned out by a shrill hypersonic ringing in his ears. He could taste the bitter coppery flavor of blood at the back of his throat.

He felt the barriers of his flesh give way and the beast surged into him. He threw back his head and screamed the intensity of his feelings. It's power was phenomenal and crackled like lightning under his skin. Draco had never felt anything like it before in his life. Not quite pain, but too extreme to be called pleasure. It spread until it touched the tips of his toes and fingers, the ends of each strand of hair and stuck to his ribs. It grew until it filled all of him until he felt it nudge the ball of power within him that was the source of his magic. The nudging became a push and then a pounding. Draco fought it with all of his might because he knew instinctively that if he let it in, nothing would ever be the same again.

Suddenly he felt strong arms grabbing him. He had no power of his own to fight back and let himself be lifted. All of his concentration went to fighting the beast that had broken into his body. Draco did not know how long this went on for, but he felt himself being laid down onto a soft surface and then a cool cloth was laid against his head. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out; the beast was tireless and Draco was only human. Then something made it past the ringing in his ears. It was a voice and Draco got the feeling it had been speaking to him for a long time. It kept saying the same thing over and over. "Let go. Just let go, Draco. Let it in. Everything will be alright, Draco, just let go." The voice was soothing and comforting; it was familiar in some way though Draco could not tell whose it was. He was reaching his breaking point and wanted in that moment nothing more than to give in and do as the voice said.

He felt his shields crack and then shatter.

Draco braced himself for the pain he thought would come, but never did. Instead he felt a warmth and light as the beast caressed his magic. The two wrestled together, rolled around entwining themselves with each other. Before, Draco knew what was happening, he could no longer tell what was his magic and what was the beast's, they were both his now. He didn't know how he knew this, but the thing that had accosted him in the halls wasn't out to hurt him and it wasn't going to leave him anytime soon if ever. He was awed by the feelings surging through him. The beast's power was his own now and for one brief moment he felt invincible and at peace. Then the golden light began to fade as if it were being absorbed by his skin, but the warmth remained. His skin tingled and his senses were coming back to him. Finally, the ringing in his ears was gone and he could see again.

Draco straightened his body from the ball he'd curled into and sat up. He tore his robes open then lifted up the button-down shirt he had on underneath. His chest was a little red in the place the beast had entered his body. The past few moments had definitely happened, he wasn't going crazy.

Looking around him for the first time, Draco discovered that he was on a pile of cushions on the floor of an abandoned classroom and that he was alone. If it hadn't been for the fact that this had all started in the corridor, he would have sworn the voice had been a fabrication of his mind. However, there was no explaining how he'd gotten into the classroom. He certainly wouldn't have been able to get there on his own in the state that he had been in. It worried Draco that there was someone in the castle who knew what had happened to him and what would happen before it did. They seemed to know a lot more than he did in fact.

Draco took a moment to collect himself, vanished the cushions, then continued on to dinner. He really hadn't felt like eating anymore, but he still had to keep up appearances.

Keeping up appearance became almost impossible when he discovered that the incident in the hall was just the beginning...

Draco shook himself out of his reverie. It was late and he had much to do tomorrow. Sexually frustrated Gryffindors and disturbing memories would have to wait until after he got some sleep. He slid into bed and extinguished his light with a wave of the hand. Yes, things have certainly changed, he thought to himself.

In the moments before sleep claimed him, Draco lay in the stillness of his room and dark of the night and gave in to his unruly thoughts that kept straying back to the Head Girl. Maybe the real reason why he had been so disconcerted by tonight's revelations was because it felt like someone had been holding up a mirror not to his face, but to his soul. It was discomforting to see himself so clearly in another being while her guard was down. He'd almost felt compassion back there standing outside the girls' lavatory instead of the victory he should have felt at gaining the upper hand, something to hold over her head. He had enough information to make this year very entertaining. But something held him back; it was as if betraying her would feel like betraying himself. They were at similar crossroads in their lives. Granger had grown up, but no one could see past the image of the past six years. She was stuck in a mold that was no longer the right size or shape and she could either conform to it or shatter it. It looked like she'd chosen the latter. Draco had laughed at her behind the bathroom door, but now he couldn't escape the niggling feeling in his stomach that felt like respect. She was shattering the mold and it was costing her, but she wouldn't stop, wouldn't give up. Her Gryffindor courage wouldn't let her. Now all that remained was for him to make his own choice.

A lot of things had happened to Draco since his father's arrest and since the incident on his birthday. Yet, he'd given no outward signs of the effects they'd had on him, despite having been forced to the head of his family and being given incredible power and responsibility.

Draco was still and would always be the Prince of Slytherin, still haughty, cunning, and just a little bit spoiled, but he was growing tired of playing the same petty games that he had in his early years. He was in need of a change and its arrival was inevitable.

One thing was for sure, though. Draco wasn't going to let Granger make him look like a coward for not trying his hardest. They were the top two students at Hogwarts, but he had better hair.

He'd annihilate his mold. Just watch.