Of all the loathsome people I could have been given to watch, I'm stuck with the foulest arse of them all. Draco Malfoy, sole male heir of his family's (admittedly mostly nonexistent now) fortune, and newly dubbed criminal.

He'd gone completely under the radar after the war, he and his mother locking themselves away in the dark interior of the manor for months on end. Then he'd made a sudden reappearance, caught in the midst of raiding a muggle town with several other Death Eaters that had managed to avoid the ministry for far too long. His punishment was nowhere near as bad as the others, seeing as they were locked in Azkaban now.

It is still a punishment though, I'm just not sure who for now that I know it's him that I have to keep.

What will Harry think of this? What if he never visits again, or refuses to even speak to me while Malfoy is staying here? If he does that, then I wouldn't ever see Ginny either.

My chest constricts painfully, not for the first time since seeing Malfoy standing on my front porch, my eyes already feeling heavy with tears of fear.

Why hadn't the Ministry informed me of any of this? Or better yet, why did they have to send him to me? There were plenty of other muggleborns working for the ministry, all of them more than capable enough to handle Malfoy. Yet they chose me, even knowing how resentful I was towards him.

Perhaps it's best to write a letter and request a change, I think, tapping my fingers on the table.

"Granger!" The voice startles me from my thoughts, making me jump from where I had been sitting at my desk chair.

Scoffing softly to myself for being so jumpy, I snap, "what do you want?" From behind the door, I can hear him snickering softly to himself, making me scowl at where I imagine he is standing.

"It's late and I believe you said dinner would be prepared for me," he informs. A moment passes and then in a jeering tone, he adds, "you said it would be ready over an hour ago, by the way." Breaking my glare with the door, I glance to the clock on my nightstand, seeing that it is nearly nine in the evening. Running to the door and cursing under my breath, I yank open it open and am immediately greeted with the pointed face of my new housemate. "Took you long enough," he sneers as I brush past him.

"Not a word, Ferret," I bark over my shoulder. He mutters something I can't quite hear. "What was that?" I glance back to him, seeing that he's chosen to follow me down to the kitchen. On his lips is the trademark Malfoy smirk that every girl seemed to swoon over in school. The very sight of it leaves me wishing it's still reasonable to strike him as I had in third year.

"I didn't say anything," he replies, feigning innocence. With a snort, I pull open the refrigerator and grab the chicken I'd set out to thaw earlier in the day. Malfoy watches for a few minutes, leaning against the table with his arms crossed over his chest, but when I pull out a glass dish and several spices, he arches a brow. "You're actually going to cook that yourself? By hand?"

"Of course I am!" I look to him with a furrowed brow. "Magic gives the food a strange taste, so I always cook it myself when given the chance." Before smirking mischievously in a way that would rival his own, I clean the chicken and lay it out in the dish. "Don't worry though, soon enough you'll know how to cook your own meals."

His jaw drops in a way that is very unlike his usual composed self. "You mean touch something raw?" he asks.

Nodding, I spin around and meet his gaze. "What? Did you never have to do anything for yourself back at your mother's house?" I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing as his face turns a startling shade of crimson. His hand slips down to his waist, to the place he must usually keep his wand, but when he grips empty air, he turns a shade darker. "Useless without your magic, aren't you, ferret?" Unable to fight it anymore, laughter bubbles up my throat and spills from my lips.

"Shut up," he snarls, adding, "mudblood" as an afterthought. I fall silent instantly with the derogatory term. Turning away so he won't see the sudden shift, I grab the dish from the counter and toss the chicken in to the garbage. "What are you doing? Can you possibly be any more of a fool?" he shouts, grabbing my arms and squeezing tightly before forcing me to face him again.

Blinking away the sudden prickling at the back of my eyes, I cover the emotion with a mocking glare. "Dinner is your problem tonight. If you want food then you better find a way to make it without magic. Maybe it will teach you not to call me that godawful name." Tearing out of his grip, I stomp past him, ready to storm out of the house. Just before I reach the kitchen doorway, his fingers wrap round my wrist once more and yank me backwards.

"Wait a minute," he demands.

"What could you possibly want now?" I hiss, trying to escape his grasp, but he won't let go this time. Looking up into his face and meeting his steely grey eyes, I silently dare him to try anything else. Something in his gaze shifts, and for a moment I think he might apologize, but I should know by now that a Malfoy never apologizes.

"You are nothing but a filthy mudblood who doesn't deserve the gift you've been given. I should have taken you down when I had the chance back at the manor. You were so weak and pitiful that night, weren't you?"

My eyes squeeze shut against the sudden burning of tears, willing back the memories that are trying to sweep me away to the past. The cold, empty, laughter echoing in my ears like she is standing beside me, her icy fingers around my wrist instead of Malfoy's.

"You remember it well, don't you. The scar is still there to remind you everyday so you never forget. And I'm sure that, being the weakest link of the Golden Trio, you still have nightmares about her and that night in the drawing room," he hisses. I have to bite back a cry at his words, turning my head to hide as much as I can from him.

He is right of course. The curses she cast on me are imprinted in my mind, and the scar on my arm will never heal properly.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I whisper, "let me go." My voice cracks with the strain of keeping in tears, jaw working as I fight to hold myself together. I don't look back as he silently releases me, knowing well enough that he'll be smiling like a child on Christmas morning. Without another word, I run for the front door and rip it open.

The moment it slams behind me, locking him in and keeping me from going back, the tears I had fought to hold in are streaming down in rivers.

Why do I allow him to affect me so much? I never allow myself to break anymore, not since after the war. No matter how much I wanted to let myself crack apart, I always stayed strong for everyone else. I can't show weakness again, not like I had in the past.

But with Malfoy, a simple word sends me into a rage and a few sentences has me fleeing my own home. He is too similar to his aunt in those moments, and even worse, too similar to the only other person who made me feel completely worthless besides Bellatrix. Someone I swore I wouldn't ever think of again.

Yet after only a single day, Malfoy has managed to bring up those memories and the ones from the war. I've got to be stronger with him, build my walls higher. I can't show weakness to him again.

Swiping at my tears, I pull out my wand and apparate to the one place I know I'm always welcome.