Sparks fly when Draco and Hermione work together to solve a murder at Durmstrang.
Draco, unwilling to face his peers at Hogwarts, enrolls at Durmstrang Institute for his Seventh year. Things become complicated when Hermione Granger appears. In the...
**D I S C L A I M E R** I am simply writing fanfiction. I love these characters.
**Content Warning** This D R A M I O N E fic contains mature content. There are scenes of a sexual nature, cursing, violence, and death.
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Narcissa gripped his shoulder with surprising strength. "You don't have to do this, Draco."
He met his mother's eyes and whispered, "Yes, I do."
Narcissa pursed her lips. She had been a pillar of strength in the months following the fall of The Dark Lord, and didn't fail him today.
"I trust you will rely on your instincts. You have always been exceptional."
Exceptional. The word made his body clench.
Draco's gaze swept over the underground lake. The cold underbelly of the cave at odds with the bustle of students and parents dragging trolleys and exchanging greetings.
It wasn't long before the surface of the water began to ripple like a great beast raging beneath the surface.
Together, mother and son watched with matching disinterest as the ripples became white caps, and from the once calm surface erupted a massive galley. Rigging damp and sails dripping.
Narcissa released her grip on Draco's shoulder, which he took as his goodbye. Even though they shared a warm relationship, Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't be caught dead hugging and kissing him. Their reputation demanded refinement and grace.
Without another word, Draco's eyes nearly betraying his confident demeanor, he wheeled his trunk up the ship's gangway and into the stinking recesses of the lower decks.
A reverie took Draco by surprise as he was given his cabin assignment. During his first trip on the Hogwarts Express, he had been a walking testament to pureblood supremacy. Surrounded by friends and the overconfidence of youth, Draco had never been more excited. With pride running through his veins like poison, he had sought out sycophants to surround himself with. All that changed the night Albus Dumbledore died.
The arrogant boy he had been died that night, too.
Don't think about that. Not now.
Draco had only just begun to piece his pride back together. It was a painstaking process that left him feeling hollow—the shell of Draco Malfoy, not the man.
Who was he without pride?
Unable to fully answer that question, Draco hadn't been able to face his peers at Hogwarts. Hadn't known who he would be at the school. A Slytherin Prefect? A Seeker? More than anything, Draco wanted that answer to be yes. But he knew the other students would never respect this pathetic version of himself--weak and ridden with anxiety. Not that he gave two fucks about what most students thought. Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws. Gryffindors least of all. It was his own house that he feared.
