Long Time in the Making
Fifth Year
Having achieved more this year than in any other, Draco patrolled the hallways and stairways of Hogwarts looking to increase Slytherin’s unassailable lead in House points.
The year couldn’t go better without a barrel of Felix Felicis (which Snape refused to teach them to brew).
Merlin’s kindness bestowed Prefect’s badges on himself and Pansy — and NOT on Tri-Wizard Champion Nutcase Harry Plotter. Baiting the red-headed charity case and The-Boy-Who-Wanted-His-Dead-Mummy into a fight assured Slytherin the House Cup. Draco’s new favorite DADA teacher banned the Gryffindorks from Quidditch, leaving Weasley with no help and no brains — Draco even penned a jaunty cheer, “Weasley Is Our King”, about the situation.
October improved on September when Dolores Umbridge named Draco to her Inquisitorial Squad, thus giving him control over every student in the school. Most recently he’d caught Harry Punter sneaking out of a wall where no door stood. On his arse like a Seeker on a snitch, Draco hounded Dumbledore’s pet until the day Merlin went nutter…
Harry, Ron and Hermione were in custody.
Draco conducted a quiet but heated interchange with his prisoner while Crabbe and Goyle worked their two-celled brains through his hastily cast Confundus charm.
“Stay away from Scarhead — Umbridge has it out for him.”
“I’m not a possession or a child to be ordered about, Malfoy!” an incensed Hermione hissed back, full of piss and vinegar.
“Don’t you have enough sense to save yourself, you marble-headed bint!? There are DEATH EATERS watching the school!”
The argument slowed their progress to a standstill. While Harry and Neville worriedly watched over their shoulders, Hermione disappeared as the others turned the corner.
“Are you one?” she challenged.
“N-N-Not yet… But Father says I have to join!”
“No you DON’T! Talk to Dumbledore — he’ll protect you!”
“You really don’t get this, do you? I can’t keep saving your arse! Use those brains and keep your Mudblood head down, for fuck’s sake!”
Snatching his wand from his slack hand, Hermione swished a few harmless cuts and bruises onto her body. Swirling hints of caramel highlights in her whiskey-brown eyes softened her final words —
“So no one will know who you really are, Draco.”
Handing him back his wand, she struggled just enough to make his entourage and Umbridge happy about his bounty.