poison ✞ dramione

part twenty one

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draco woke the next morning to an owl pecking at his closed window. he grumbled loudly, stepped out his warm bed then opened the latch to the window just enough for the owl to hand him his letter and fly off.

draco closed the latch a moment later then groaned when he saw the ministry wax seal. really? nearly a month later and now they're acknowledging his existence? not that draco minded blending in, he just wanted the trouble that is his sentence to just be over so he can prepare for what's to come.

however, despite his better judgement, draco ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter. he threw the envelope carelessly onto his desk and flipped the letter open, rolling his eyes when he noticed it was from the temporary minister himself.

i apologise for the disturbance, mr malfoy, but we must discuss your sentence as soon as possible. i took it as my personal job to cancel anything you've had planned today so you can come speak to me in person. i've spoken to headmistress mcgonagall and she doesn't mind, provide you behave and make sure your group partners know where you're going.

please meet me at malfoy manor at half noon, jut floo in directly from the headmistresses office. if you do not attend it will be within my rights to act with force. aurors will come and bring you here if you do not bring yourself, mr malfoy.

the meeting shouldn't take too long, i'm sure. as long as you keep that sharp tongue of yours in check then we should be done by half one, if not earlier.

half noon, mr malfoy.

—kingsley shacklebolt, acting minister of magic.

draco rolled his eyes at the formalism presented in the letter when it was glaringly obvious shacklebolt didn't give a rats arse about him. no one did, really. however, draco couldn't bother to care himself. all those who he ever really cared about are dead now.

maybe, once upon a time, he cared about daphne and theo. maybe they were good friends. maybe they knew some things about him. maybe they fucked around a bit—but who cares? the past is the past and everyone's lives would be so much easier without draco in them.

draco threw the letter into the fire and went about his usual morning routine. he had a long shower (as his day had been, quite clearly, cancelled and no one else was up), he made breakfast for himself, he brushed his teeth then changed into his school attire minus his robe and proceeded to finish off some homework down in the common room. when the clock struck twenty past eight draco, despite his better judgement, began to worry as potter nor little granger had woken up. he then remembered that it was always granger waking them both up.

draco groaned then made his was to potters room. he slammed the door open, stalked over to potters bed then ripped off the duvet. potter, unfortunately, had been next to naked under the covers and had woken with a little scream when the cold air of late september hit him.

"what the fuck?" potter shrieked, noticing draco standing next to his bed with his arms crossed. "why're you in my room, malfoy?"

draco rolled his eyes, tempted to dump ice cold water onto potter. "it's nearly half past eight, you dumb shit. don't you have a class as nine?"

potters eyes widened then he scrambled out of bed. "shit," he muttered, pulling on his glasses.

draco walked out then proceeded to grangers room. this time he carefully slipped the door open and peeked his head inside. granger was fast asleep in the middle of her bed.

"little granger," he called out a little too softly for his own tastes. she didn't stir. draco pulled away the sheets carefully, thankful she wore a full set of pyjamas—button-up top and ankle-length trousers. "wake up," he said a little loudly, shaking her.