Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

The bad weather continued. Storm seemed to be brewing, and it was filling the days at Hogwarts with bleakness, rain and cold temperatures. It wasn't normal. It was June. It was spring. The green pastures outside Hogwarts were overflown with muddy rainwater. The Dark Woods swayed in the constant, chilly wind, moaning troubled. The students kept indoors. They had no excuses not to be studying, and they grudgingly prepared for their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts. Every morning, the Daily Prophet was brimming with dark news of missing Muggle-born witches and wizards. It frightened them to read how people were picked off from the streets only to accidentally die during interrogation a few days later. The face of Dolores Umbridge was more and more often to be seen on the front page, smiling lovingly as she had done when she'd been a professor at Hogwarts, claiming to have unravelled yet another plot to undermine the authority of the Ministry.

Dolores Umbridge was greatly disliked by the general population of wizards and witches these days. She was running a strong campaign in favour of a road project which would see the destruction of a rich wildlife in a forest north in England. She'd motioned for a law which would give her the authority to deport any magical creature in the way of 'civilization', and this was currently the source of great debate everywhere in the magical community. Had the Ministry officials gone completely bonkers? Whatever did they need roads for when the primary means of travel were either by Floo Network, Port key or broomstick?! No, the weather was fouler than in centuries, people were missing and now the Ministry was going haywire. They all knew it, but none would speak of it: Lord Voldemort was slowly and surely digging his claws into the Ministry, the very heart of the wizarding community.

It was Ronald Weasley's turn to feel what it was like to be all alone. He had awoken a week earlier in Draco's room to find himself surrounded by two eudaimons, the headmaster and Professor Snape. And he had been feeling awfully guilty, cause he remembered everything – unfortunately. He had been mildly interrogated, as it proved that Marian had lifted the Imperius curse Ron had been under. Ron had in deed gone to Pansy with the intention of hurting Hermione. But he'd never dreamt that Pansy would be able to do something like that! He'd had no way of fighting the Imperius curse as he himself had wished for Hermione to not be pregnant. His guilt did nothing to soften his dislike for Draco. Ron was envious because Draco had gotten round to bed Hermione first. The news of the unexpected pregnancy was like salt in Ron's open wounds. Ron was let off with another warning. One more misdeed and he would be banned from the grounds and forever denied access to Hogwarts as a student ever again. And life seemingly returned to normal – as normal as it could get under the sombre circumstances in general in the wizarding community. In Defence Against the Dark Arts, Snape never forgot to deal remarks and hints about Ron's betrayal, and in the Gryffindor common room Hermione felt pressured to relay parts of what had happened to the others. It left about every Gryffindor waiting for some sort of showdown between Draco and Ron. The tension was so thick one could slice it with a butter knife. But Draco played it cool, appearing collected and aloof, never uttering a word to Ron, hardly acknowledging his presence.

Ron, feeling guilty and not guilty all over, was torn inside by Draco's conduct. It had been so much better if the blond had yelled at him, punched him or beat the crap out of him. Instead, only silence. And silence was worse than anything. In Ron's presence, Draco became unreadable, leaving it only to Ron's imagination to guess how the former Slytherin was doing.

The friendship with Neville Longbottom flourished. It was a rare union which had everybody baffled. Draco Malfoy, the tough and incredibly handsome demon-slayer with the breathtaking grey-blue eyes and fierce stance (yes the female students could come up with many suitable adjectives about Draco Malfoy without blinking) and Neville Longbottom – dreamy eyed, slightly shy dark but not so handsome and somewhat clumsy to-be Herbologist who had trouble getting the words across his lips – had found each other at the most unlikeliest of arenas. They both shared an interest for ballroom dancing.

Draco would bring Hermione to the Three Broomsticks on Fridays and Saturdays. They would have a drink, talk and stare into each other's eyes and then dance to the live music provided by a local folk band. Draco had swept Hermione totally off her feet by showing her his dancing skills. He knew waltz – of course, being of pure-blood stock it was a must – and swing, which was much more uncommon since it was generally a Muggle dance. Draco knew at least three different sets of waltz, including the ballroom version in which he glided off along the floor whilst Hermione did her best to hang on and not step on his toes. Neville was also at the Three Broomsticks quite often on these nights, dancing with whatever company the room had to offer, or Ginny or Luna would go with him. And when Neville and Draco had had one extra drink, they would dance with each other, much to the delight of the giggling girls. Then they would call it a night and trudge along back to Hogwarts. The Gryffindor and the ex- Slytherin realised they had a tempo and a manner which suited each other. Draco adored Snape. Neville hated Snape. Draco detested Herbology, Neville loved it. They had loads to talk about, and as Neville realised that Draco listened to whatever he had to say, they started giving each other advice on various subjects. If there was a Quidditch match, they'd often take up seats next to each other, bring sodas and popcorn and really get into the game, cheering and booing. It was particularly fun the times Harry Potter would be playing in the game and discover the two of them together. Draco would almost be his old self, howling at Potter and tell him how the Gryffindor captain was rubbish on the field. Harry would get distracted and do a lot of basic mistakes, much to the content of the former Slytherin. It made him awkwardly happy to see that Neville and Draco had found each other, much because deep inside Harry wished Draco the best, seeing the genuine in Malfoy every time he saw the blond together with Hermione or with Neville. And somewhere deep, deep within sang an envious voice. For Neville had discovered it was all right to be physical with Draco. Neville held his hand, danced with him and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist pretending to be snuggling like lovers when there was a slow dance. Hermione and Ginny would be writhing on the floor in laughter, but Harry couldn't laugh at it. For him it was serious. Neville had ventured on forbidden territory and lived. Draco awoke something in both Gryffindors – something sexual – but only Neville was allowed past Draco's defences. Not that Harry actually had attempted something. He still struggled to find topics they shared. Unlike with Neville, conversation between Draco and Harry came to an immediate standstill the moment they lay eyes on one another. What was this called anyway? Was Harry falling … in love?


The weather wasn't the only thing making a foul mood. With a boost to his confidence – knowing Hermione was momentarily out of danger – Draco felt suppressed frustration surface. The days flew by. Hermione's morning sickness wore off and when undressed, her belly was beginning to show. Draco began to look at the people around him. And the Slytherins in particular was a constant source of annoyance. They were like strangers to him – with their haughty airs and contemptuous stares – and Draco wondered how he could ever have been like them. He failed to understand the enormous process his mind had gone through. Draco was beginning to see the injustice. It made him sick to his gut to see younger students being bullied, and he was astounded how even Harry Potter turned a blind eye at it. He looked at Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini and he felt mortified for ever having been a Slytherin.

The Slytherins usually passed Draco in wide circles, but of late, his former gang members had taken to being a bit bolder. They had stopped looking at him as if he was a leper. Instead, their gazes bore malice and they often mumbled the word 'traitor' when they thought he was out of earshot. No doubt the work of Pansy Parkinson. Now that he was on his way to becoming a strong wizard and a demon-hunter, they could not fathom why he didn't revert to his old ways. All that power and he still acted as if he was a spineless victim. They didn't have to say it out loud. He saw it in their eyes. He had replaced Parkinson with a Muggle-born witch. He – a former Death Eater – did not return to his dark lord. He – whom Snape himself had declared had nothing more to learn in Defence Against the Dark Arts – still attended classes as if he thought he had any business being there. He was a traitor in everything he had become. He could have been their Slytherin Hero.

Outwards, Draco paid them little heed. He seemed cold as stone – almost his former self but without the arrogance. Towards the Slytherins he acted spiteful, though some admired him it was never said out loud. Draco displayed a lot of Slytherin skills still. He was accurate and formal, his face a mask of stone when he studied or attended class and he showed little or no interest in Granger until free periods or lunch and dinner times. He seemed resolute with her, authoritative and in control. And she appeared to bend to his will without question. That at least, was something positive. It was observed that Draco hung out a lot with Neville – which wasn't half bad considering that Neville was a pure-blood. Malfoy seemed to dislike Potter – and that was a good thing. But there were no confrontations between them either. It seemed to be some sort of truce between the two opposites, and that, the Slytherins didn't like. Now that Draco was on the offensive, they thought it was ridiculous that Draco didn't do something about Harry. Like blast the living daylights of out him.

Crabbe, Goyle and Montague were on the warpath one day late in June. Professor McGonagall had scolded them for their ignorance and sent them to the library. And good Slytherin never showed himself in the library. Having swallowed their pride – with the upcoming N.E.W.T exams in mind, they had spent two painstaking hours reading in books as they had to prepare essays which would be turned in the following morning. With their brains on overload after this unexpected influx of information so late during the day, their frustration levels were soaring. And unfortunately – a fourth year accidentally got in their way as they swung out from the library and out into the corridor. The boy in question – unruly dark curly hair, glasses and Ravenclaw uniform – was busy balancing a stack of books. He never saw them coming.

“Watch where you're going, little fart!” Goyle barked. Adding his enormous weight, he shoved the fourth year student with full force, sending the child nose-first on the stone floor. His books fell in a clutter. The boy began to cry, and when he turned, looking for his glasses, he was sporting a nose-bleed. There was a noise of glass breaking as Montague stepped on the boy's glasses.

“Oh my, what a terrible – terrible accident” Montague said, feigning surprise. Goyle and Crabbe sneered loudly. This was satisfaction in deed.

“Well, well, if it isn't the Three Billy Goats” Draco sneered in a perfect Slytherin manner. He shot them a cold smile, and was about to pass, as Crabbe – who was standing closest to Draco – put his foot out in order to make Draco trip and fall. Avoiding the setup with elegance, Draco walked over to the boy and helped him up. Draco picked up the broken glasses, produced his wand and said: “Oculus Reparo!” The glasses mended themselves in one fluid movement. He then turned to the Three Billy Goats and said: “Honestly. You're sixth year students and you're acting as if you're still in your third year, bullying innocent lads a quarter of your own size. Grow up!”

“Shut up Malfoy!” Crabbe spat.

“Yeah, shut up … traitor” Goyle mimicked the attitude but was much less convincing. Face to face with Malfoy was actually a bit frightening.

“You and your Dad are finished, you hear! He's a gutless fish and you're a spineless scum! Just wait till You-know-who set things straight around here. Then you and your loser of a father can snuggle with the fishes together – on the bottom of the Black Lake!”

Had Vincent Crabbe not been so preoccupied with boasting about the fishes, he would have seen Malfoy flick his wand gently before putting it away. As the wand was put away, it looked as if Draco dropped his books. They landed on Crabbe's toes weighing seventy kilos more than they ought to have. Quite accidentally, really.

Draco feigned surprise at Crabbe's apparent pain. The brute was, however, angered and kicked the books away. Limping around, he eventually found his wand and pointed it at Malfoy. The gathered crowd promptly booed, as Malfoy remained unarmed, challenging Crabbe in a staring competition. Crabbe took the hint. Cursing an unarmed student would look incredibly bad, though he knew that Draco must have hexed his own books. The Slytherin put his wand away, flexed his hands to the point where the bones made a cracking noise.

“You're going to be sorry about this, Malfoy. I'm going to break you in half!”

“Whatever!” Draco retorted poisonously, clenching his hands together into fists. Crabbe advanced, his face going slightly pink by the effort. The large student eyed his slim opponent, and then hit after Malfoy with surprising speed. But Malfoy was by now used to fight enemies moving thrice as fast as Crabbe, and he spun away with no effort at all. Draco kept an eye on Goyle and Montague, expecting an attack from behind. Crabbe set in another blow, aiming his fist for Draco's nose. Draco put an effective stop to it, seized Goyle's wrist to hold him fast. He then planted a knee right in Crabbe's gut, hitting the air out of the fat Slytherin student. He repeated the action until Crabbe collapsed with a gurgling noise. Coming to a turn, Draco ducked as Goyle tried to grab his neck. Spinning, Draco clasped his hands together and put in a forceful blow to Gregory's neck. The Slytherin fell to his knees, howling in pain. Montague was more of a challenge as he was thinner and more trained. To Malfoy it was only a bit of fun – an excuse to vent out a deep frustration over his former housemates. It wasn't pretty, and Draco had to restrain himself in order not to kill the man. It felt good to let out a bit of the animal squirming inside Draco. He was amazed to see his skills in full bloom. He took a few beatings, but he always had the upper hand, hitting and kicking all three Slytherins until they were bleeding from their noses, spitting teeth and vomiting. It was over too soon. Draco wished they'd put up a bit more of resistance. When no one any longer moved, Draco realised he was soaked in sweat, covered in blood and breathing fast. His hands were shaking. Not from fatigue, but from anger. He was shocked to find such anger on the inside. He thought he had let it out when he was training with Melchior. But this – this was not about Melchior, it was about the Slytherins. It was all about the betrayal he felt they'd committed. Crabbe was whimpering and spitting teeth, and once he found the strength to look up to see Malfoy towering over him, he winced. Draco looked as if he was ready to step on Crabbe's face.

“Bastards!” Draco barked at the defeated Slytherins. “Bloody, gutless bastards! You kicked me out when I needed you the most! You turned your backs at me when I needed your friendship! Bloody Slytherins and your sense of self-preservation! You're all filth!”

The crowd had gone silent. The sneers and the cheering was gone. They'd sobered up when they heard the anger and the sorrow in Draco's voice. Harry and Hermione was also there, though not at the front. Standing on their toes, they saw Draco turn to the fourth year. He knelt in front of him and picked up his books. He ruffled the boy's hair, eyeing him seriously. “Never trust a Slytherin. Avoid them if you can.”


After that incident, Draco's insides were in turmoil. He had opened up a wound, and now the malice poured out. It was Potions/Herbology class because of Professor Sprout's absence that day, and the students were preparing for their N.E.W.T, going through their text books and re-attempting concoctions and various experiments of their choice. Draco had placed himself next to Neville, and incidentally opposite Harry. Hermione was sharing table with some Ravenclaws. At another table stood the Slytherins. Two Slytherin girls, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise Zabini. The tension was already to the roof, as it had been every day since the incident outside the library. Everyone anticipated another fight.
Harry cursed loudly. He had replaced his book during the school year for some odd reason unknown to Draco, and he had gone from being the star student to becoming a failing star. The substance in his cauldron was looking, well, hideous. He eyed Draco dejectedly.

“It just doesn't –!” Harry excused himself, attempting to strike a conversation with the former Slytherin.

“ – didn't Mommy teach you how to read, Potter? Oh, that's right. She was dead long before you could say Babbling Beverage, eyh?!” Goyle snickered. He eyed Crabbe for support, and the latter roared with laughter. The two Slytherin girls only smirked as they had trouble taking their eyes off Draco's taut frame. His buttocks in particular. Leaning a little over the table as he did, they got an excellent view. Oh how the world was unfair! Why did Draco Malfoy have to date a Muggle-born?! Why was he dating at all? Why couldn't he just be single?!

Those were the kinds of thoughts running through their heads all the while Goyle's comment sort of fell dry. All, until Neville suddenly said:

“Hey Malfoy! Did you see Hagrid's latest addition to the forest's population?” The comment was innocent enough in itself as Neville in fact referred to a host of Lumpahoovers – a kind of wild hog imported from Sweden. And Draco was in fact not lying when he replied: “Yeah I did! Ugly little critters, weren't they?! The young sort of looked like Goyle, if you know what I mean” Draco glanced from Neville to Goyle, “One could almost think that Goyle himself had paid their mother a visit on a previous occasion!”

Neville held his tongue as he watched Goyle's face bloom with an ugly purple colour. He was so glad his name wasn't Draco Malfoy, or wearing Draco's shoes for that matter. Goyle was glaring at Draco, and it looked as if the obese Slytherin was about to have a heart attack. Harry was so surprised by Draco's Slytherin cheeky attitude he forgot to 'Stir evenly for five minutes before adding one table spoon of Norwegian Frog Eyes'. It didn't matter. He held his breath as the scene – which easily could turn nasty – unfolded. Where was Norway anyway?

“Take that back!” Goyle barked, pointing one menacing finger at Draco. “Take it back or I will – I will – !” his index finger was shaking.

“ – oh hey, I'll gladly admit my error” Draco sneered, “but first you apologize to Harry Potter!” Draco said gravely, nodding in Harry's direction.

Was Draco actually standing up for him? Harry felt flattered. He felt his face go red. He felt sublime. Chosen. Surprised. Was Draco really doing this for him?

Harry forgot all about his bubbling brew. Goyle was obviously considering his options. It was a stroke of luck that Professor Slughorn was momentarily away.

“Shove off, Malfoy!” Goyle growled proudly. “Why don't you just crawl right back under the wings of that – that thing –!”

“ – oh listen to that” Draco sneered in a high pitched tone. But his smile was erased as he continued: “The pig squeals!” The irony was gone. Replaced with heavy sarcasm and a menacing attitude. The room fell silent as they saw Draco lock a challenging stare with Goyle. There was no doubt whatsoever that the comment concerning the likeness between Goyle's appearance and a pig, had hit Goyle hard in the gut. The eyes of the Slytherin grew dark, and his face a deep shade of red. Hermione shuddered as she saw the Slytherin in Draco emerge to its fullest, most evil form. He hadn't been this vile for nearly a year. She didn't like what she saw. Not at all.

Draco got the last word as Slughorn entered the room, eagerly chatting away with Professor Snape. Smiling innocently at the professors as they nodded to him, Draco went on as if nothing had happened.

Draco passed his exams with top grades. Hermione followed right behind with a spotless record to match. Harry didn't do so well, but well enough to make it to become an Auror. But it all seemed so insignificant when the news were brimming of collapses in the Muggle world. Even there, the weather stayed foul. Then the first lists over Muggle-borns wanted for interrogation appeared in the Daily Prophet. The newspaper changed its language, and there were more and more articles containing hostility against Muggle-borns, half-breeds and pure-blood traitors. Draco only saw one solution to this.

They were summoned to Professor Snape's office one day. Draco was stunned to find Melchior there, and his first impulse was to hide Hermione behind his back. He hadn't seen Melchior in weeks, but little had changed about the eudaimon. Melchior was leaning against Snape's desk as they entered, and he immediately eyed Hermione. Walking over to her, he extended his hand to her. Draco felt in the way, and allowed her to go to the eudaimon. They shook hands, and Melchior was polite to her and smiled. Draco immediately took her hand afterwards, feeling a need to protect her.

“It is time we discussed your impending future. As Harry Potter's closest confidante for years, you – Mrs. Malfoy – will be on the top of the list of a number of enemies. The Ministry is being infiltrated by Death Eaters and their followers, and it's already good on the way of being poisoned by people who not necessarily support Voldemort but who shares the same beliefs.”

The eudaimon spoke to her only. It felt strange, Draco thought, but now things were no longer about just him. She would have to learn how to deal with him.

“I am hereby ordering Draco – your husband – to take you to the Lighthouse Farm, which at the moment offers the strongest protection possible, until Harry Potter resolves the situation with Voldemort.”

“But – but no one knows when that's going to happen! It could take a whole year …!” she retorted annoyed.

Melchior stared blankly at her, as if such details didn't concern him. The exclamation remained in the air for some time. Neither Snape or Draco said anything. Draco just held her hand, which was becoming clammier and hotter by the second.

“You're thinking: How is Potter going to manage it on his own? You should have been there with him helping him achieve his goal. But – Mrs. Malfoy – it's time to step back. You will wait until the child is born. Whatever you do afterwards, is up to you, but the child stays in Draco's care.” Melchior's voice was calm and cold. He appeared to be staring right through her, and it made Hermione bristle with anger.

Draco let go off her hand, and it made her forget her momentary irritation. A deep frown creased his forehead and he seemed deep in thought.

“You would leave me and the baby – just to help Potter? Is he really worth more to you than your own child? Our child?” Draco asked her with resentment in his voice. “Would you?!”

It was all of the sudden quite an unbelievable situation. Not only was she being opposed by Draco's eudaimon, but now Draco himself was turning against her.

“And you worry about your education. Do you really think, Mrs. Malfoy, that once the Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry, that you will be allowed back to Hogwarts?”

This wasn't going well at all. The thought had struck her mind. She looked from Melchior to Draco and back again.

“I am sure that once the year commences, that Professor Snape here will provide you with the curriculum – at least.”

“If she can't go back to school, then neither will I.” Draco replied. “She can't do this on her own. Caring for a newborn and studying at the same time.”

It warmed her heart to hear him say that. He was staying true to her, just like he said he would.

“At some point in a year from now, you will have to leave her. It is your help Harry Potter will require, not hers.”

“I don't have Hermione's wisdom” Draco replied softly.

“Perhaps we can set up some sort of connection from the Lighthouse Farm” Melchior replied, eyeing her. Draco had obviously turned the situation for her by removing the hostility. He had shown his lord whose side he stood on, and Melchior was giving in. “Once in control, the Death Eaters will monitor all communication ways in order to locate and trap Potter. Perhaps we can provide him with means of communicating to you so that you can in deed alleviate your conscience and help him to the best of your ability.” It didn't stop Melchior's ironic tone of voice, though.

“I would appreciate it if you didn't mock her loyalty to Potter” Draco said, folding his arms above his chest. Hermione felt as if she could rise her head a notch further, and she shot Draco a dear glance.

“Of course. Forgive me, Madam.” Melchior replied with a forbearing smile. Draco's mild reproach was tolerated.

“If we are to stay at the Lighthouse Farm, we need accommodation of our own” Draco stated.

“Of course. And might I advice you – Mrs. Malfoy – to think of your parents. As you will be sought for questioning by the Ministry, no doubt, they'll go looking around your parent's home and inquire after you. In a rather uncivilized manner. Might I suggest you relocate them. For now.” Melchior turned to Draco once more.

“I have your first assignment ready” Melchior stated. He reached out and touched Draco's forehead with timid fingers, brushing the blond strands of hair. Gazing into his grey-blue eyes, Melchior transferred the knowledge Draco needed in order to carry out the assignment. When it was over, Draco sighed and stumbled backwards a bit. “She is to be retrieved by all means necessary.”

“Yes, my lord” Draco replied meekly, and swallowed hard. He looked at Hermione. They both had gotten something to think about now.