tags: eighth year, drarry, fluff, swearing, drama, melodrama, angst, potion theory, magic theory, house elf history, slow burn, ptsd, explicit sexual content, drinking, Harry’s horrible shitty childhood, tabloid journalism, discussions of mental health and trauma
suggested rating: 18+, for heavy themes and sexual content
<– Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <– Part 105 || Part 107 –>
Harry didn’t always sit with Draco in the classes they shared. It seemed random which classes he picked, some days they didn’t sit together at all. Although Harry always seemed to be his partner in Potions.
Draco didn’t mind. Harry made a very capable brewing assistant provided he knew what and why he was doing something. Nothing frustrated him more than being ordered around without knowing why. When Draco asked him why, late one night when they ought to have been sleeping, Harry had shared fragments of stories about being withheld information by people he trusted in fifth and sixth years, of being frustrated and feeling powerless and never wanting to feel that way again.
Draco was mentally trying to piece some of that story together with his own experiences as as he was leaving arithmancy.
He did not hear Granger walk up beside him, “Hello, Malfoy.”
Draco might have flinched, but he was fairly sure he didn’t show it. “Granger,” he said with a nod.
“What are you going to do until dinner?” Granger asked.
“…Study in the library,” Draco answered warily. “Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering if you might want to study with us,” Granger cleared her throat and added quickly, “up in the tower.”
Draco narrowed his eyes, “I beg your pardon?”
Granger’s nostrils flared in annoyance, “I asked if-”
“I heard what you said. I can’t comprehend for the life of me why. Is this Harry’s idea?” Draco asked.
“No. He’s been called to Professor McGonagall’s office,” Granger said, “I know Harry’s been trying to help you. Ron and I thought that maybe we could lend a hand. He is our friend.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Draco replied sarcastically. “So you think you can improve my standing if I’m seen in the tower with you and Weasley.”
Granger grimaced, “Not standing. But right now most people think Harry just biased towards you for… some reason. I don’t know about the rest of the school, but I’m certain we can help with Gryffindor.”
Draco had no doubts that it would be unpleasant but Granger was right, it might help him with the lions. And he probably ought to be tolerant of Harry’s friends since Harry was talking to Pansy now, about their mysterious ‘plan’.
Draco gestured ahead of himself, “Lead the way.”
Granger straightened her shoulders, steeling herself for- Draco, presumably, “This way.”
Draco fell in step with her, through the halls and up several flights of stairs to a massive portrait of a woman dressed garishly in pink silk. He vaguely remembered seeing her in another painting being giggly drunk.
The pink lady looked suspiciously at Draco, “This is not your dorm room, young man.”
“Felix fortuna,” Granger said.
“This is not the Slytherin dorm,” the pink lady insisted.
Granger put her hands on her hips, “I invited him, and there’s nothing in the rules that says he can’t come in. I checked. Now, open up.”
The pink lady huffed, “What would Godric think.”
The portrait swung open revealing a round opening which- what in the world was wrong with having a door shaped hole- and the bottom of the hole was a foot off the ground. Draco had to wonder how many Gryffindor’s tripped and fell on their arse just trying to get in and out of their own dorm.
Draco grimaced, knowing he would have to wait until he saw Pansy again to mock all of this mercilessly. He decided it would be best if he pretended this was a very formal function with his mother glaring at him to behave, at least until it was over. It was going to be sheer torture.
He tried to keep in step with Granger as she crossed the crowded common room over to a small couch and a few chairs over near a window. The conversations around them shifted to nervous whispers as Draco passed, too quiet for him to overhear.
Weasley was already sitting on the loveseat and shot to his feet when he spotted Draco, eyes a little too wide, “What in-”
“Shh-” Granger hushed him, her voice low, “Harry had to go speak with Professor McGonagall, and I had my last class with Malfoy, it was too perfect to pass up. We talked about doing this.”
“Yeah,” Weasley said wilting back onto the couch, “I just thought it’d be, y’know, later.”
Draco waited for Granger to sit beside Weasley before lowering himself into an armchair.
“So, err, how’s things, Malfoy?” Weasley asked.
“Very well, thank you. I hope you are doing well?” Draco said in his blandest, most polite voice.
“Uh, err-” Weasley looked at Granger, a bit panicked.
Draco took the opportunity to look around at the décor.
Weasley shrugged, whispering back, “I don’t- Are you sure you got Malfoy? Is this someone else in polyjuice, cause that’d brilliant.”
Draco tried not to wince, they still hadn’t grasped the point of whispering, which was that no one else was supposed to hear. Well, he could carry the conversation himself if he had to.
“Are all your chairs this soft?” Draco asked.
Weasley immediately stiffened, “Yeah? So?”
“The dungeon furniture is all done up in leather, which does last longer of course, but it doesn’t tend to be nearly as comfortable to sit on,” Draco said.
Weasley looked confused again.
Granger smiled politely, catching on faster than her tangerine boyfriend, “They’re very comfortable.”
“The windows must provide you quite a nice variety to look at,” Draco went on, striving to be as boring as humanly possible.
“Errr… variety?” Weasley said looking through the window in confusion.
“Yes, seasons, weather, that sort of thing,” Draco said, “As I’m sure you know, Slytherin looks into the lake. The view is green. Occasionally there is a fish to break up the monotony.”
“Oh, uh, do you ever see the giant squid?” Weasley asked.
“Very rarely and mostly from a distance,” Draco said, “I heard it once swam right by the common room and its eye filled the entire window. A girl took such a fright she fainted on the spot. It’s just a story I’m sure.”
“The giant squid isn’t that big,” Granger said, “Its eyes can’t be larger than dinner plates, at the most.”
Draco gestured to her, “There you have it. Just a story. How are your NEWTS revisions coming along? I’m finding them quite challenging.”
“I have a schedule to maximise information retention,” Granger said, she took the beaded bag off her wrist and pulled it open, reaching into it up to her elbow.
Weasley slid down the couch with a groan, “Not the schedule.”
Draco leaned forward, suddenly far more interested in seeing what caused Weasley such distress, “The extension charm on your bag must be very robust. Did you do it yourself?”
Granger pulled out a literal sheaf of parchment held together with a metal clip, “Yes. It took me a few tries to get it to stick, but I’m very proud of it.”
“It seems useful,” Draco said.
“You have no idea,” Granger said unclipping the pile of papers. She handed him a piece of parchment on which was drawn a grid with a strictly regimented daily schedule, it included; all meals- including a half an hour study time during each, free time- fifteen minutes to an hour at the most, and even bathroom breaks. “I found my ability to study dropped after two hours, so I avoid studying longer than that. Ideally, I study for an hour with a fifteen-minute break in between but that works best on weekends and Ron insists on sleeping in, which I’m worried is going to severely impact his NEWTs scores.”
“I’ll be fine,” Weasley said sulkily.
“You need all O’s to be an auror,” Granger said.
Weasley rolled his eyes, “Other people need O’s me an Harry don’t need NEWT’s at all, we only came back so we can do a good job when we start, it’s practically a kindness, really.”
“It’s practically a, you’re full of yourself, Ronald,” Granger shot back.
“I’m studying aren’t I? And I’ll cram the week before and pass no problem, with O’s,” Weasley said.
They shared a half-hearted glare that didn’t last, their fondness overwhelming them at the end. Granger shook her head with a smile while Ronald grinned and put an arm over the back of the couch behind her.
Draco looked down at the schedule again so he wouldn’t throw up in his mouth, choke and die an ignominious death. He could see the value of her study regimen but also could understand McGonagall’s concern, she was going to fall apart at such a pace.
He passed her scheduled back, “I tend to agree two hours is the maximum time one should study. I prefer two hours before dinner and two after, an extra two on weekends.”
“Only six hours?” Granger said in dismay.
Weasley looked vindicated, “Sounds reasonable. I mean, sort of. Comparatively.”
“Well, I’m not planning to be an auror or Minister of magic, so I don’t necessarily need O’s though it shouldn’t be too hard to get them anyway. Cramming the week before is also useful in that measure,” Draco said.
“Told you!” Weasley said.
Granger glared at both of them, putting the clip back on her papers.
“Don’t do third year all over again, Mione,” Weasley said.
“I’m not! I’ve scheduled plenty of sleep and breaks,” Granger said.
They started bickering again, their arguments running together into a tangle of words that presumably they had both heard many times before and didn’t need to actually articulate.
to be continued on friday. This chapter is turning out to be a big one, it might take three parts
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