January 9 1997
Granger has been different ever since new years, not in a bad way but different nonetheless. She's focused, determined to take down Voldemort and I believe in her, truly. If anyone is capable of doing so it's her but I'm worried, there's a lot she still needs to learn. For starters, her occlumency is still terrible. One of Voldemort's favorite things to do is use one's mind against them, their fears, memories of loved ones. Granger is a walking bleeding heart and that can very easily be used against her.
The next is her combat skills. She's an excellent duelist but without a wand all she's left with is that big brain of hers which is helpful for strategy but ultimately useless when someone is charging at you with a dagger. I keep having to remind her that us death eaters are cross trained. We were forced to become resourceful with and without magic, I could easily kill someone with a fucking feather if I needed to.
All I've been able to think about as of late is what happens after I finish mending the cabinet. The aftermath of me killing my headmaster and death eaters invading Hogwarts. War. War is what happens. Sides will be chosen and even more blood will be shed. Sometimes I think she forgets that we will be on opposite sides when this happens.
January 15 1997
"How many people have you killed?" Granger casually asks as we're laying in bed.
"How many goalposts are there on the quidditch pitch?"
She wastes no time in answering "Six."
"Times that by five."
"Merlin!" She gasps. "I mean, I guess that's not as bad as I thought it would-"
"Or by six.. maybe seven.. eight? Honestly Granger, I haven't a clue." I shrug. "I got bored of keeping track after 5."
"How on earth does one get bored of keeping track of how many people they've killed?"
"When it surpasses the number five." I reply. "It just became too tedious at that point."
Truth be told, I could give her a number if I wanted to. I don't know it off of the top of my head but I do have the ability to figure it out. If I had to guess I'd say just north of 60. I remember their names, their faces, where they lived, age, family members. I'm given extensive files on each target and part of my job is to study them, memorize everything that I can. It's not that I intentionally remember these facts, it's just how my brain works. Once I've learned something it sticks.
January 23 1997
"You're not even moving out of the way now!" Weaslette complains.
"And yet you still can't mark me. Honestly, you should be extremely embarrassed at this point."
I've agreed to continue to train her on the condition that Granger begins partaking as well. They're both dreadful and seem to only get worse each time, I didn't know that was possible. Freckles lunges for me again and I simply take one step to the left to avoid her completely, ruffling her hair as she passes by.
"Are you trying to be terrible at this?" I genuinely ask. "At this point I think a bloody first year would have a better chance at stabbing me."
"I'm trying!"
"Well if this is you putting in effort I can see why Potter has no clue you fancy him. Minimal effort is a waste of time, energy and will provide you with no results. It's all or nothing."
She attempts to take a cheap shot at me while my back is turned but I grab her wrist just as the tip of the blade was about to make contact with my neck. "That was better." I smirk. "It almost seemed like you were actually trying to kill me that time."
"I was." She says.
"Unbelievable," I scoff. "You'd really kill your only friend freckles?"
"I have other friends beside you." She argues.
"I find that very hard to believe."
"But it's true."
"Okay, name one then and don't say Granger, she doesn't count."
"What? Why doesn't she count?"
"Because you two are practically family." I tell her. "Family doesn't count as friends." She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes as she lets out an irritated huff. "I'm still waiting for you to list a single name." I taunt.
"Har-"
"No."
"You didn't even know who I was going to say Draco!"
"You were going to say scarhead and he doesn't count either. You want to shag the man not be his friend. Try again."
The room is nothing but silence for a few minutes before she finally says "Fine! I don't have any friends other than you. There, happy?"
"Aw, freckles." I frown.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks.
"Because your life was already so sad to begin with but now it's just depressing."
She attempts to charge at me but I stick my arm out, my palm smacking against her forehead to stop her.
"Such a fucking git - spoiled prat - blond bitch." She's swinging her arms and trying to kick me as she continues to mutter several insults and curse at me.
The door swings open and in steps Granger but her presence doesn't distract Weaslette from the task at hand, which based off of the current direction her legs are swinging, I'd say is to kick me in the balls.
"Hello love." I smile over at Granger.
"Draco, what's going on here?" She asks.
"Oh you know, just another day of quality bonding with freckles here."
"Hermione, I swear I'm going to kill your boyfriend!" Weaslette shouts.
"She's very good at talking a big game but never following through." I say, dropping my hand which results in her falling face first into my bed. Walking over to Granger, I pull her into me by her waist and lower my head down to kiss her.
"You both make me want to hurl."
Nonverbally, I conjure my door to swing open and point for her to leave. "Did you just do wandless magic?" She asks, her tone full of shock.
"Time for you to fuck off freckles." I mutter before kissing Granger again.
"But you just-"
"Now!"
I hear the sound of her footsteps crossing the room as she mumbles several expletives. Once I hear her step just outside the room I conjure the door to slam shut and lock.
February 8 1997
"A horcrux, you're sure?" She asks me.
"Yes, he made seven in total."
"Do you know where the rest of them are?"
I shake my head. "All I know is that you won't be able to kill him unless you destroy those. I mean, you technically could but he wouldn't stay dead."
I've been providing Granger with any useful information I come across and then she relays it to Potter and Weasley. They've been giving her a hard time, asking her how she knows any of this and when she says she can't tell them they just throw a fit. I think she would be better off just doing this without them, their stupidity will only slow her down.
She'd never leave them behind though, a fact I absolutely loathe. I don't know why she bothers with them, they don't bring anything useful to the table.
"They're my friends." She always tells me. So? Blaise, Theo and Pansy are my friends but that doesn't disable me from being able to see how moronic they are.
When it comes to war you need to rid yourself of anything that weighs you down and in Granger's case, it's her friends. Potter thinks that because he's the chosen one he has all the answers. He doesn't. Almost everything he's accomplished has been due to Granger. As for Weasley, I really don't know what purpose he serves. I guess he'd make for a good sacrifice. If someone tries to kill you just push gingerfuck forward and run. I think that's a good plan, even suggested it to her. She wasn't a fan.
I don't know what she sees in them, especially him. Potter has been doomed from birth so I guess it makes sense she attached herself to him, she's extremely incapable of turning away a charity case. But Weasley? Fucking Weasley. He is the most useless human being I have ever met in my life. My house elves rank higher in society than he does. I'm pretty sure they're in possession of more intellect than him as well.
February 24 1997
I immediately come to a halt when I step into my room and see Granger in my bed and her demonic cat laying in her lap. "What the fuck is this?" I ask, tossing my coat on the nearby chair. "Crookshanks." She smiles innocently. "Yes love, I know what that thing is but why is it here, in my room?"
She stands up, the furball in her arms and walks over to me. "I just figured with me sleeping here every night that I should bring him."
"No. Absolutely not."
"Oh come on, he's harmless." She says.
"He's hideous and has tried to kill me."
"You're being dramatic. He wasn't trying to kill you."
"I strongly disagree. The thing laid directly on my face, that's attempted murder by suffocation. Trust me, I'm very familiar with the tactic."
Granger completely ignores me and sets the thing down on the ground before kissing my cheek. "I'm going to go take a shower."
"He's not staying!" I shout as she walks off.
The bathroom door shuts and is shortly followed by the sound of the shower turning on. I look down at the furball by my feet and he just sits there, staring at me. "What the hell are you looking at?" He lets out a small meow. "You're not staying." I tell him. "The second she's done with her shower you're out, understood?" He meows again. "I have no fucking idea what you're saying but I'm going to take that as a yes."
I carefully step past it and walk over to my desk, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. As I'm reading through my latest stack of reports I hear a meow again. Looking down to my left I see him right beside me. This thing has terrible attachment issues.
"Go away." I say, waving my hand but he remains planted. I grab a scrap piece of parchment and crumple it into a tiny ball, holding it up for him to see. "Look, a toy, go get it!" I toss the ball of paper across the floor and his head turns, watching as it falls to the ground but he still doesn't move, just turns his head back and stares up at me again. "Whatever, I tried. Just stay over there and don't touch me." Rolling my eyes and turning my attention back to my work.
Whoever is in charge of writing these reports needs to be replaced. I already have a headache from the countless spelling errors within the first paragraph. I'm leaning back in my chair, stretching my arms out to the side when suddenly the bloody thing jumps into my lap.
"You've got to be kidding me." I groan. He looks at me, meows, rubs his head against my torso and then curls up into a ball in my lap. "You're a lot like your mother." I say. "She doesn't listen to me either." I can feel a small vibration against my thigh as he purrs. I slowly lower my hand and lightly pat his head. "I guess you and I have a lot in common too. We both love being touched by Granger and... well I guess that's it actually." He lifts his head and slowly blinks at me.
I look over at the bathroom door and listen to hear if the water is still running. Once I know that it is I turn back to the cat and whisper "You can understand me, can't you?" He stares at me, blank expression, not a thought in those eyes. "Yeah.. you definitely can." I say, narrowing my eyes. "You're not fooling me. If I let you stay, you better not pull some shit like last time. If your hairy arse comes anywhere near my pillow I will transfigure you into bloody fish and feed you to the grindylows, got it?" This time, his eyes widen a bit. "I knew it!"
"Knew what?" Granger asks, stepping out of the bathroom as she dries her hair with a towel.
"Oh nothing, nothing at all." I reply.
Her eyes land on crookshanks in my lap, her lips instantly curving up into a smile. "It looks like the two of you have finally made up."
I look down at him, a smug look on my face and say "You could say we came to.. an understanding."
"Good." She says, walking over and kissing me. "I'm glad you two can finally get along."
Returning my gaze to the cat I whisper "I meant it hairball, get near my face? You. Fish. Grindylow."