Welcome (back) to Draconian!

In this new version, you'll find that nothing much has changed—apart from the cast list (like I said, you can picture them however you want, as will I) and certain grammatical/spelling issues that older!Noelle has noticed.

Older!Noelle has also decided to add some lines from her original version of Draconian. That's a version I've never posted anywhere, not even back in 2015. But I've decided to add that I deem central to this story, which I'd initially removed because I was still testing the fanfiction waters back in 2015.

One such example, in this chapter, is Draco telling Hermione "just relax" when he brings her back home. In my version, what Draco really says is

Let's begin.

x Noelle

NOTE — all spoilers will be deleted so that the reading experience will not be ruined for FTRs. If you decided to spoil in the comments, I will block. If you see any spoilers in the comments that are ruining the book for you, do let me know so I can fix that. Happy reading FTRs, hope this book does not disappoint.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Illuminates the wand tip.

of those dusty, second-hand patrols he was never supposed to take. But then Theodore Nott, like the fucking tosser that he was, apparated home drunk that night.

Draco was awake – he always was; so he heard Theo stumble across the living room. He bit back a curse and turned on his side. But before he could close his eyes, there came three loud knocks on his door.

This time, he swore aloud. Climbing out of bed, he rearranged his features into his signature scowl and yanked open the door. "What – " His eyes narrowed when he saw his friend passed out in front of him. He nudged Theo with his foot for good measure. "Theo."

Nothing.

"Get up, you lazy wanker."

Still nothing.

Draco swore again when he realised that Theo was completely hammered. Fucking great. He stepped over Theo's sleeping form, making sure to kick him accidentally on the way, before going over to the room in the east wing, the one opposite Theo's. He quickly undid the silencing charms on the door before rapping sharply against it.

"Either one of you - head to the Quarry now. Nott's wasted."

There was a pause from the other side of the door, followed by certain muffled whispers and shuffling. Draco knew that if he listened harder, he'd be able to hear them talking, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He'd regretted it most of the times he tried, hearing things that planted images in his head he couldn't ever get rid of. Not even with Obliviate.

After awhile, the door opened slightly and he came face to face with a frazzled Pansy Parkinson wearing nothing but a black negligee. She stared back insolently at him for a brief moment before she shook her head. "Yeah, I don't think so. We're kind of in the middle of something here. Blaise just came back from his patrol and - "

"That's why I said either."

" - I'm tied down," her lips curled in a smirk as she raised her hands. To Draco's utter disgust, they were, indeed, tied together with complicated knots that could only have been made with magic. "We've been going all the times Theo's gotten himself wasted, and Theo has covered for us the times we couldn't make it. I personally think it's time for a change." Her eyes glinted and he knew what was coming even before she asked. "Why don't you go?"

"No."

"Then go get Theo – "

"He's dead to the world."

"Too bad." She met his gaze evenly. "Because Blaise and I aren't going."

"Fine. No one goes." Draco spun on his heel and was halfway back to his room Pansy spoke again.

"Poor, poor Theo. He's going to get Crucio'd when the Dark Lord finds out. All because his best friend won't help him out. Not even once. Such a shame, isn't it? And to think, Theo has looked up to his best friend for so many years, even to become a horrible Death-Eater, following in the footsteps of - "

Draco slammed his door shut. But moments later, he came back out with his wand in hand. Ignoring Pansy, he went to the coat rack and donned his Death-Eater robes and mask. Then he apparated out of the apartment in a blink.

"Did he go?"

Pansy turned to Blaise, who had been lounging on their bed, a satisfied smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes, but sat back astride him. "You win."

"Told you he'd care."

"I know he does," she said softly. "It's just easy to forget, sometimes."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Draco was not surprised to see the stunned faces of the Death-Eaters when he got to the Quarry. Everyone had donned their masks, but the expression in their eyes was telling. Some looked awed, but the majority looked scared out of their wits. He let his cold, hardened eyes sweep across the lot slowly, enjoying the squirm he got out of at least two Death-Eaters, and the shudders of several others.

"G-good to see you, Malfoy," Augustus Rookwood stumbled over his words in a bid to sound as formal as he could. "I was expecting Nott but – "

"I'm in charge tonight," Draco said flatly. "Has everyone been briefed?"

"Well, yes – "

"Then there will be no room for mistakes. Let's begin."

He took the first step towards the house, and suddenly there were dusty sounds of apparitions around him, ahead of him, as the other Death-Eaters charged on silently. Draco followed at a more leisurely pace, taking the time to mentally curse Theo in his head. If it wasn't for that drunk bastard, he would've been - well, he didn't know what he would be doing, probably stuck staring up at the ceiling as usual, but it would've been better than being here anyway.

Realising that he was far behind, he apparated to the basement of the building. He'd been here several times before, back when there were more important leads. But lately, this place had been forgotten, like so many other places he knew.

The basement was silent, although he heard the occasional creak above from the other Death-Eaters. He frowned at the noise and made a mental note to talk to them about it. Clunky footfalls might go ignored when he was head of patrol. But if the Dark Lord was leading, a little stealth could save many lives. He cast a silent Lumos and wandered further into the basement.

Then he saw them. Six refugees - wide-eyed, bedraggled clothes and huddled in the corner of the room. He stepped towards them, and they shrank farther back. One of the men spread his arms out, as though to shield them all from the killing curse.

As if they could stop him if he really wanted to kill. He raised an eyebrow at them. "Are there any more of you?"

If he'd not been watching closely, he wouldn't missed it. But the youngest, a boy who didn't look a day over eight, slipped. The boy's eyes flickered to the floorboards, then snapped back up. Draco's gaze narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak when someone beat him to it.

"Over here!" Yaxley. Yet another incompetent Death-Eater. The older man prowled towards them, grinning and baring his teeth. "You know, the werewolves are quite hungry this time of year."

The young boy flicked terrified eyes to Draco, who simply stared back evenly. "Where're the others?"

"On their way down. You sure have the nose of a bloodhound, Malfoy, always the first one on the scent - "

"Shove your flattery up someone else's arse, Yaxley, I haven't got all bloody day."

"Y-yes," Yaxley stammered, before raising his voice to yell at the Death-Eaters upstairs. "Hurry up!" Without waiting for the rest, he went over to the refugees and began to bind them tightly with his wand. The young boy cried out in pain as the ropes dug into his skin and Draco immediately cast a wordless silencing charm on him. The louder you resisted, the more it'd hurt. Death-Eaters simply thrived on fear.

The rest of the Death-Eaters swarmed in and Draco stepped aside, watching as they bound the refugees to be transported to the cells in Godric's Hollow. "You coming, Malfoy?" Rookwood asked, when they were done.

"No. Now get out. I want to do one last scout around this place."

Loud pops of apparition filled the basement as the Death-Eaters left with their new prisoners. When the last of them had left, Draco cast a quick Muffliato around, as well as a Disillusionment charm to make the basement appear empty. He gripped his wand tight and tapped the floorboards with his foot.

"Is anyone down there?"

Silence. He tried to remember where the young boy had previously looked at, and tapped the floorboard beside it.

"Hello?"

More silence. He crouched down and knocked on the floorboards.

"Anyone?"

Nothing. He swore and stood up, fighting the burn of disappointment in his chest. Bloody kid. He never should've given a second thought to that young boy's actions. Probably just a diversion tactic, that's all it was. He straightened, only to freeze at a sudden sound.

The cry was quiet, weak and came from below. Immediately, he crouched back down and slid his hand across the floorboard. Why hadn't he noticed this before? A tingle of magic, barely noticeable had he been a lesser wizard. His heart raced as he undid the complicated charms, then stared as the floorboards slid open.

And in the darkness, he finally found her.

He could've sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. A short flight of stairs led him to her, and he fought the urge to gag at the putrid smell. He glanced around—there was no one else but her—and lit his wand. Mere feet away, she lay with her cheek against the floor. Dressed in tattered rags, her grimy hair plastered to her face, utterly filthy... And he'd never been more relieved to see her. He swallowed hard and whispered her name.

"Granger?"

The figure before him shifted. And then a tiny sound escaped her lips. "...Draco?"

I've found you. After all this time, I've finally found you. He pushed his mask off his face and knelt down next to her. Dried blood streaked across her face, one of her eyes so bruised that it barely opened as she gazed up at him.

"Granger."

Her fingers curled around his arms in a weak grip. "Draco," she whispered, the syllables of his name drawn out like she had trouble even remembering how to speak. "It's – it's really you?"

"Yes, it's me," he breathed, so relieved that he forgot the normal coldness he'd always assumed. As her eyes fell shut, he quickly reached out to grip her shoulders. "Granger, stay with me. I need to know when you last saw someone."

"Can't...can't tell how long it's been."

"Brightest witch of our age and all, at least try to remember!" He'd been trying to goad her into remembering, but he could hear the desperation in his voice.

A faint, tired smile curled the corners of her lips. She released his arm and slowly let her hand fall to her rib. "This is...the last one, I think – "

He drew his wand over her ribs and, finding two broken ribs, did a mental calculation in his head. Two weeks. She'd had this injury for awhile now.

So it was safe. She was safe now.

He lowered his head and gently wrapped his arms around her. "I've got you," he whispered, and apparated the both of them back home.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Taking Hermione Granger to St. Mungo's was out of the question, even though they had the best Healers there. Too many Death-Eaters infiltrated the hospital on occasion, and he couldn't risk losing her as soon as he'd found her. The safest place was the apartment he shared with his friends – in the hopes that they wouldn't notice.

As soon as he arrived at the flat, he slipped off his shoes and carried her into his room. Kicking the door shut, he cast muffling and locking charms before he laid her down on his bed. She blinked up at him as though she could barely believe he was there, and then reached for him.

"Draco?" She rasped brokenly, his name a tired slur on her tongue. It seemed to take a herculean effort each time she spoke. "Is it – is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me. But you have to keep quiet because no one knows you're here." He made to pull away from her, but her grip immediately tightened.

"Don't go," she gasped, her unbruised eye widening in fear again. There was a slight unhinged look on her face, sheer panic and painful desperation. "Please, please don't - don't leave me - "

He swallowed at the tightening in his chest. "I'm just going to get some healing potions. I'll be back before you know it – " He stopped when she began to push herself up.

"Then I'll come with you – "

"Granger - " A tear trickled out from the corner of her bruised eye, and he drew in a shuddering breath. When had he ever seen Hermione Granger cry before? That's right - he hadn't. Because Hermione Granger never cried. "Fuck. Okay, fine, I'm not going anywhere - just lie back down."

"Thank you." She eased back down, but kept her grip firm on his jumper.

He knew he'd feel wretched if he pulled away again, so he didn't try it. Instead, he picked up his wand. "I'm going to cast some healing spells on you now. Just lie still and try not to make a sound."

As he healed her, he felt her gaze – steady, patient, almost forgiving – on him, and fought to keep his composure from cracking. How strange that she should look at him that way, when he deserved none of those, especially not the latter. Clenching his jaw, he refocused his attention on the worst of her injuries. Once done with the bruises on her face, arms and legs, as well as her broken ribs, he drew back to look at her.

"Better?" he asked, finally meeting her gaze again. "You have to take some potions to heal the rest of it. Let me know if you hurt anywhere else."

She shook her head, but tears seemed to prick the corner of her eyes and before he knew it, she was crying. Draco immediately tensed, casting another muffling charm, just in case. "Fuck. What did I say?"

"No – I just..." she trailed off, unable to say anymore.

He sighed and stood up, only for her to latch onto his jumper again. "I'm going to get you some clothes. You should take a bath."

She nodded and slowly climbed off the bed. It was difficult to ignore the way she trailed after him as he went to grab a random shirt and boxer shorts. Even when he stepped into the bathroom to draw the bath, she still hovered behind him.

Draco spun round and tried to pry her fingers off his jumper. "You should – " he sighed when she let out a fearful whimper, staring up at him with desperate brown eyes. "Granger, I'm not going anywhere."

"I-I know, I just - " her eyes swam with unshed tears and he mentally kicked himself for making her cry again, even though it had been completely unintentional.

"Fine, I'll be right out here." He settled down on the closed lid of the loo and motioned her into the tub. When she climbed in, he tugged the curtain close, only for her muffled cry to stop him.

"Please don't. I-I need to - " she seemed to force the words past her lips. "I need to know you're there."

He sighed and turned so that his back faced the tub. "Better?"

"Thank you, Draco."

A moment later, he heard the sloshing sounds of water against the tub, accompanied by her stifled whimpers as she tried to clean herself. A part of him wanted to help but - no, he'd already done far too much tonight. Gone far beyond his call of duty and what for? Just to ease saint Potter's guilt.

Well, that and his own too.