Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and associates. No money is being made from this fanfiction; it is purely for entertainment.

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Because She Was Granger

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It wasn't until Draco stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ to catch the Hogwarts Express that he realised it. The Golden Trio—she—wasn't there. He knew they wouldn't be. Really, they would have been crazy to even attempt going to school this year. But he found himself half expecting —hoping— that they would be, that it was just another year like any other, that nothing had really changed. But that wasn't true. Everything had changed. The Dark Lord had risen, the Death Eaters had taken control of wizarding Britain. And he was part of this—he knew firsthand that everything had changed.

He stepped onto the train, thinking that it felt ridiculously normal to be doing so, when it shouldn't have. Life wasn't supposed to continue on. It was supposed to stop and wait while everything got sorted out.

He looked around as he walked, searching for something — someone — that he knew he wouldn't find.

No more Harry-Bloody-Potter to steal his limelight. Finally, Slytherin would win the House Cup this year. And they'd easily win the Quidditch Cup—no muggleborns were returning to Hogwarts and a number of half-bloods wouldn't either, which would leave the other House teams depleted. Slytherin, of course, would be unaffected.

No more Ron Weasley kissing Potter's arse. Now that was a sight he could definitely live without. He strongly suspected there was more going on there than they let on. Ginny Weasley was definitely camouflage.

No more Hermione Granger to distract him with her bushy hair and annoying voice. He couldn't say why that thought didn't really appeal to him. But, then, he supposed it was because she never really did anything to him other than exist. It wasn't like he'd suddenly have the top marks in school just because she was gone.

He saw a flash of brown curls appear before him in the train and instinctively reached out. The girl turned around. "Draco Malfoy?" What was her name? Lydia Belmont or something. She was a Slytherin sixth year. Definitely not...

"This is your final year, isn't it?" Lydia was saying. "Bet you're glad no Mudbloods are here to ruin it?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Big improvement."

He found a compartment to himself and settled in for the ride. There was plenty of extra room this year, so he knew he'd have it to himself. He wondered what the Trio was doing now. Were they living in some cave to avoid the Snatchers? Potter and Weasley had better make sure they kept Granger's stupid bushy head down—Snatchers always went for the Mudbloods first and they weren't nice about it. He found the whole thing pretty distasteful, if he was honest with himself. Potter and Weasley would get whatever they deserved, but Granger was a girl, even if she was a Mudblood, and there were things you just didn't do to girls.

He found himself in such a foul mood that he almost snapped Pansy's head off when she peeked her head into the compartment and asked if he wanted some company. His mood continued when they reached the school and into the opening feast. They—she—should be sitting at the table opposite him.

Professor Snape made the official welcome, which was odd and only served to bring back horrible memories of that night in the Astronomy Tower. He couldn't help thinking that it should have been Dumbledore, that if only last year hadn't happened, if he hadn't—then it would have been.

There was a strangled tension between the Houses or, more accurately, there was tension between Slytherin and all the other Houses. No one spoke to them—they didn't mind so much, but this was even more hostile than usual.

His first class on Monday was Advanced Potions with Alecto Carrow. There were eight Slytherins and only three Gryffindors in the class. He almost felt sorry for them. It was clear from the first day that Slytherin virtually ruled the school now.

Professor Carrow asked if anyone knew the ingredients to brew a Blood-Replenishing potion. The class was silent. The Slytherins already knew they'd pass even if they didn't do anything and the Gryffindors were too afraid to speak. Where the hell was Granger when you needed someone to yell out an answer? He could almost picture her sitting in the front row, hand up in the air, spouting off every damn thing in the book as if she'd memorised the entire thing.

Come to think of it, she probably had. Even he had to admit it was impressive. How was it possible that a muggleborn witch knew more spells than he did?

It was because she was Granger, he decided. She was just some kind of freak of nature.

It was on a cool October afternoon, while Draco was relaxing in the Slytherin common room after a particularly quick Quidditch match against Ravenclaw (in which they had won within the first thirty minutes), that Theodore Nott sat down beside him, grinning like an idiot.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked.

Nott propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Just asked Pansy Parkinson to go out with me."

"Pansy?" Draco's mouth hung open in shock. Sure he hadn't paid any attention to her this year, but he was still surprised that she would have gone out with anyone else.

"Well, since you never actually claimed her, I figured she was fair game."

"When did—how-how did that happen?" How had he never noticed that Nott had a thing for Pansy?

"I don't know. I used to think about her all the time in sixth year—you know how it is, when you can't stop thinking about a girl?"—for some reason, Draco knew exactly what he meant—"and then I realised I had to make a move or I was going to lose her. She said yes. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, no, it's fine. Like you said, I didn't claim her."

It didn't bother him as much as it should have. Truth was, he never really cared for Pansy in that way. She was convenient to have on his arm, because she was pretty and a pureblood and she looked good there. But, otherwise, he found her girlish chatter irritating and inane. Nott could have her.

It was on a day not long after Christmas while he was still on holidays and walking around London, that Draco caught sight of frizzy curls peeking out from beneath a witch's hood. His stomach twisted in knots. The snow was falling heavily all around. If one wanted to sneak out and be inconspicuous in a heavy cloak, it was a good day to do so.

But it couldn't possibly be her. He hadn't seen her since last June, had thought he'd never see her again. Alive, anyway.

His feet seemed to make their own decision and he followed the heavily cloaked witch through the snow. It was easy enough to keep a fair distance behind and follow her footsteps—small, dainty footprints in the snow.

She reached a small alley between two buildings and pulled back her hood, shaking out her hair and taking a deep breath of cold air.

It was her.

He had known it was her—known the moment he saw that familiar bit of hair—that hair he saw in his dreams so often—known from the way she moved and from the small, white hands that protruded from beneath the cloak.

He should call the Snatchers. He had seen Fenrir Greyback prowling around town with a few other Death Eaters. He could summon them, make Granger take them to Potter, and then the Dark Lord would forgive his family and everything would be right in the world again.

And Granger would be dead.

She was a girl. There were things you just didn't do to girls.

Greyback would tear Granger apart.

She pulled a small piece of paper from beneath her cloak and looked it over. Her eyebrows furrowed as if something was wrong. She stuffed the paper back into her cloak, pulled the hood back over her head, and began walking in his direction.

He had to move.

I had to make a move or I was going to lose her.

He did, not in the way he wanted to, but in the way he had to. He grabbed Granger by her shoulders and pulled her back into the alleyway before she could even open her mouth to scream. She began to struggle and he shoved her against the wall, pinning her in place with his larger frame.

"Don't," he hissed and she was silent. "The Snatchers are here. Greyback will sniff you out if you go."

She nodded.

"Malfoy?" she whispered. He could see her breath coming out in short, white puffs in the frozen air.

And he pulled back her hood so he could see her, wide brown eyes looking up at him in relief and confusion, cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

He thought he would never see her again.

He didn't know what to do.

He fancied that he had just saved her life. Or diverted potential disaster anyway. What did one say in this situation?

"Get out of here, Granger."

"Thank you," she said, before pulling the hood back over her face. She turned and apparated on the spot, so that he was left standing alone in the alleyway.

He wasn't sure why he did it. Draco had never been particularly good at understanding his own mind and so he usually didn't bother to try. But something about the thought of her being hurt really bothered him. It made his stomach churn in a very uncomfortable way.

It was because she was a girl, he told himself.

It was because she was young and innocent and so damn pretty.

It was because she was Granger.

A/N: Read and review please. Feedback is greatly appreciated.