Draco Malfoy's history of poor decision-making continues after the war, when he returns to Hogwarts under strict probation. Bored and restless, he decides to cast the infamous Vanishing Cabinet spell to link his bed with the bed of a willing witch...
Welcome to my latest Dramione story! Expect regular updates, 2-3 chapters a week.
Aesthetic by the talented K Writes Dramione.
Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise. It all belongs to JKR and Warner Bros.
Warning: This first chapter isn't dub-con, but things do get a little pushy.
"This wand will demand honor, which means you are capable of such." — Garrick Ollivander
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Draco Malfoy was harsh and cold and hated by all. And Draco was fine with this. He liked the fearful stares and whispers, the cringing away as he passed. He liked the nervous starts when he was assigned to partner someone in class. Nearly everyone at Hogwarts walked warily around the last Marked Death Eater legally at large after the war.
You should be in Azkaban, people whispered. Draco could only agree, he should be in Azkaban: He'd followed the Dark Lord every step of the way, after all, and surely would have killed Dumbledore if he'd been given just a little more time.
So the harshness and coldness and hatred were working fine for Draco and he would have spent an uneventful school year sneering at everyone except for one minor issue: He needed a witch. Taking the Mark had destroyed that aspect of his life early in Sixth Year, rendering Draco too terrified and haunted to go about things properly. A shame, really—sex would have been an excellent release and plenty of witches had been eager to help. Slytherin girls liked their boys icy, mean and dangerous, especially when they were also rich, titled and handsome.
But the horrors of that year had played hell with Draco's nerves, so he'd pushed such distractions aside to concentrate on his little Woodworking Project of Death. Seventh Year was no better, with Death Eaters running the school and the Dark Lord ensconced in his home and all the screaming and the torture and the terrible dinner parties, with his mother in the midst of it all. He kept getting called home and that revel in September alone was enough to ...
Never mind. The war was over now and against all reason Potter and his friends had prevailed. Mother's role in this victory, while it didn't save Father, at least helped spring Draco out of Azkaban after two months. Draco had barely stepped off the island when an owl arrived with an invitation to repeat his last year at Hogwarts. He was glad to go. He had a lifetime to sit in that mausoleum of a manor, where Aurors were still finding bits of victims in the walls and under the floorboards.
So there Draco was, back in the castle with nine other returning students. This small band of "Eighth Years" of all Houses were considered adults and exempt from many school strictures. They could come and go as they pleased, wear what they pleased, even ignore curfew as long they acted as proper role models for younger students.
