Chapter Text
Chapter 4
(Two years later)
The longer Draco spent in any place, the more and more convinced he became that he didn’t belong anywhere.
Two years at Hogwarts, two whole years, and he never felt like more of a liar.
Every summer, he went home and pretended to be the perfect little daughter. Ribbons, dresses, and makeup, getting hit on by boys five years older than him when he was forced to go to his parent’s parties, forced to socialize, constantly being introduced as their daughter, their smart daughter, their beautiful daughter, all the while he kept his shaking hands folded to keep anyone from seeing them tremble, his stomach aching from the stress, every part of him begging to scream - just once, just ONCE - but he couldn’t. Then he’d go back to school, and suddenly, he was in the spotlight again, in a completely different way. A moody, pretty boy, second in his class, Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, with so many friends, so much going for him, primed to be successful in whatever he chose to do, so enviable and so perfect. No one knew the life he lived when he went home, and Draco had gone out of his way to make sure of it. He’d fled parties, he’d faked illness, he’d damaged relationships, he’d done spells outside of school, and learned spells he wasn’t ready to perform, all in order to keep the charade in place. It was a difficult balance, and he often felt like he was walking across an intricately woven web over a deep, dark chasm. He had to stay perfectly balanced, and catch himself every time he slipped - otherwise, he would plummet down into the darkness, not knowing what lay ahead, not knowing if he would make it out alive. But the older he got, and the longer the game went on, the harder and harder it became to keep his balance.
On top of it all, Harry Potter had become more of a pain in the ass than Draco ever could have predicted.
Not only was the boy famous, no, he had to be a good Quidditch too. Playing Seeker, no less. And despite the fact that his grades were generally between passable and downright deplorable, he always seemed to be treated like he was special. And to cap it all off, he was CONSTANTLY in trouble, trying to fight the dark powers he always seemed to just find somewhere in the depths of the school, and instead of being punished, like anyone ELSE would have been, Potter got away with it. Or worse, got REWARDED for it. Year after year, Gryffindor won the House Cup because of some insane end of term heroics pulled off by Potter and his tag-along friends, and no one ever cared then about the amount of rules they broke to quote-unquote “save” the school. Draco was pretty sure they were making up at least some, if not all, of it.
“Well, they can't be making it all up.” Pansy insisted as the two of them walked down the lawn towards the herbology greenhouses a week after the year started. “Even though Dumbledore favors them and all, he still wouldn't let them get away with making stuff up about the Dark Lord. That's too serious.”
“Well then, maybe he believes it. I don't know!” Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. “But it's all just too insane. And besides, he's just using it as an excuse to get at me, I swear. He always thinks I'm ‘up to something.’ Remember what he and that Weasley boy did to Crabbe and Goyle last year?”
“That's not proven, Draco, it's just one of your theories.” Pansy said patiently "And besides, they couldn't have possibly made up the Chamber of Secrets. Even your father said it was true.”
“Well, either way, those three are up to no good.” Draco replied adamantly. Pansy just shook her head.
“Draco, are you coming?” Pansy asked, standing by the door to the greenhouse.
“Go along without me.” Draco said, deliberately putting the books into his bag slowly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Alright then.” Pansy said. She sounded normal, but Draco saw her cast a dark look in the direction of the only other student remaining in the greenhouse: Hermione Granger. But she left, and once she was gone, Draco shoved his remaining supplies and books into his bag messily, self consciously pulled his sweater away from his chest, then approached Hermione cautiously.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she said, not looking up. “If you’re gonna say something nasty, save it. I’m not in the mood.”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry, actually.” At that, she looked up, surprised. “I was awful, for the last few years. I was being shitty, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” She finished putting away her things, and pulled her bag up onto her shoulder. “What made you realize that, huh?”
“A lot of things.” Draco said vaguely. He wasn’t ready to get into the real reason why he was always an asshole, he hadn’t really even began to unpack that with himself. All he knew was that it was a learned behavior he’d been using as a mask, but as for why and what made him change… not now. “But I was jealous of you, and… I was being petty and stupid.”
“Well, I didn’t expect that from you.” Hermione replied, genuinely. “But rest assured, you have nothing to be jealous of. I have it harder than even my closest friends know. And besides, you’re plenty smart. Second in class is nothing to be ashamed of.” She sounded slightly awkward, like she wasn’t really sure what to say, understandably. “Thanks for… apologizing. Most people wouldn’t do that.” She made for the greenhouse door, and Draco was about to let her leave, but then remembered what he’d initially wanted to ask her.
“Hey, wait!” Hermione stopped and turned back, further confused. “...How did you know what Professor Sprout was talking about earlier, with the negative potion reactions that can be caused by… whatever the plant was called. I didn’t quite understand.”
“Oh.” A cloud seemed to pass over her face, and for a moment, Draco regretted asking, even though he didn’t know why. “I was… doing some extra research over the summer. That’s all. I can explain it to you if you want, it’s really not that difficult, especially with a diagram.”
“That would be great.” Draco said, relieved. “I’ll be in the library after dinner, if you’re free then.”
“Yeah, sure.” Hermione replied, then looked down at a small Muggle watch she had on her wrist. “I’ve got to go, I’ll… I’ll see you later then, I suppose.”
“Okay, thank you so much.” Draco said earnestly, but he didn’t know if she heard him. He followed her out of the greenhouse, and as she ran off towards the castle, he followed behind at a more casual pace, wondering what about lunch had her so hurried.