Harry's Shorts: 2.0

BY : Gandalfs-Beard
Category: Harry Potter > General > General
Dragon prints: 6004
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or any associated properties (that would Rowling and various companies), nor do I make any money from the production of this work

Random Short-stories, Oneshots, and Drabbles set in Potterverse. Will probably lean towards humour/satire, but there could be some romance, angst/drama, and adventure as well. Some crossovers with other fandoms should be expected. ... Not all stories will have sex (the ones from Version 1.0), but this is Version 2.0 which will also include any smutty one-shots I come up with. ... Stories in Version 2.0 will not be in the same sequential order as in 1.0 ... Appropriate tags will be added, and the rating will be changed when I start posting ze smut! 

Chapter Summary: Draco returns to Hogwarts for seventh year after it reopens, with three goals in mind: Restore the family's standing after their fall from grace, become the Head Boy... and most importantly, to show the girl he's had his eye on for years how he really feels about her...


Marry Me, Mudblood


All things considered, Draco thought things were going reasonably well. The repaired Hogwarts had been reopened, and he had decided to return to complete his education. His father had impressed upon him that it would help to raise the Malfoy family’s standing in the wizard world and show that they were turning over a new leaf.

Draco still didn’t have a clue why Potter had let them off scot-free after the battle, nor did his father. Mother had just looked at him a bit distantly whenever Draco asked her if she knew why.

So Draco had decided to roll with it and work harder at not calling people Mudblood to their face. Father had managed it for well over ten years after the first war to keep up appearances, and Draco reckoned he could do the same with a little practice.

Sure, loads of people were still giving him dirty looks. And some of them had even rudely asked him why he wasn’t in Azkaban.

“Potter forgave me,” was Draco’s standard reply, “Why can’t you?”

And if they were being really rude they would say something like, “Mental! Potter’s off his rocker if thinks you’ve changed.”

It was annoying to have to put up with the riff-raff heckling him like that, but things could be worse - he could actually be in Azkaban right now instead of starting his first day back at Hogwarts to do his seventh year.

The first thing on Draco’s to-do list following the beginning of the year Feast was to hit up Headmistress McGonagall, who apparently had not assigned a new Head Boy yet. Draco caught up with McGonagall just as she was leaving the staff-table.

“Good evening Professor McGonagall,” he said in his most ingratiating manner, beaming broadly, “Could I have a word please?”

McGonagall gave him a very odd sort of look, almost as if there were a bad smell in the room. Draco wondered if he had overdone it with the cologne.

“I suppose,” said McGonagall, letting out a weary sigh. “Very well Mr Malfoy, what can I do for you?”

“I... er... I was just wondering, I heard you hadn’t chosen a Head Boy yet. And I reckoned... well, I was a prefect after all.” Draco peered at McGonagall hopefully with his best doe-eyed expression.

Professor McGonagall looked utterly shocked, which Draco had to admit stung a little.

“Er... you’re joking, right?” said McGonagall when her voice returned. She peered around the Great Hall as if looking for someone before returning her attention to him. “Who put you up to this? I swear if you’re George Weasley polyjuiced to look like Draco, dead twin or not, I’ll sign you back up for Hogwarts just so I can expel you...”

“What? I’m not George Weasley!” The accusation cut Draco to the bone. “It’s really me - Draco! I just thought that seeing as the position of Head Boy was still open, it was worth a shot.”

McGonagall looked like she might faint, and like she was struggling to control herself.

“My apologies, Mr Malfoy,” she began, her voice sounding a bit strained, “I thought you were messing me about. But it would appear that you got hit with some sort of overpowered Confundus spell during the battle. You really should see some mind healers at St Mungo’s, if you haven’t already. But in the meantime, perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey...”

“I’m fine!” snapped Draco, before he remembered he was supposed to be acting nice. “I mean... I’m alright, really,” he said in a contrite voice. “I don’t know what came over me... Some sort of headache - maybe I should go see Madam Pomfrey after all...”

McGonagall’s features softened and she peered at Draco a bit more sympathetically.

“Of course dear,” she said as if speaking to a brain-damaged child. “And if you must know, I am holding the position of Head Boy open for someone whom I hope will consider returning to Hogwarts. I had no intention of hurting your feelings.”

“Er, that’s okay professor,” said Draco. “I understand.”

But he didn’t really, and he thought that could have gone much better. Draco wondered if he should have tried a different approach. Perhaps he should have played the “Potter forgave me,” card.



The next few days flew by as he reacquainted himself with schoolwork, and as Draco began to settle in, he thought he should tackle the next thing on his to-do list. He knew this one would require more finesse than the first item on his list, and he had been a bit dubious at first. But his father had assured him that it would be a massive public relations coup and that if he used the right approach, Draco could be almost guaranteed success.

By the weekend, Draco had it all worked out and knew exactly what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. He had practiced for hours in front of the mirror, and he went over his notes from the dozens of romance novels he had read over the summer in preparation for this moment.

Draco gave himself one last look in the mirror, and tousled his hair so it had that sort of dashing devil-may-care look that the ladies always seemed to like. At least that was what Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis had said they liked most about Potter. Then he undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie.

Taking several deep breaths, Draco made his way through the castle to the place he was almost certain he would find her. Peeking through the library door, Draco congratulated himself for being right. There she was with those tawny brown curls tumbling over her shoulders as she hunched over a book.

For a moment he was more breath-taken than he had expected he would be, the way the sunlight streaming through the window caught the golden highlights in her hair. Wait, what was he thinking? said the innermost core of Draco’s soul. She wasn’t that hot was she?

But his carnal urge said otherwise, and the pragmatic side of Draco said, use it, use it, it’ll sell the proposition better.

So for the moment, Draco’s carnal instincts and his pragmatism overruled his Noble, superior self which was screaming at him to immediately head back to Slytherin and start working on a plan to rid Hogwarts of Mudbloods once and for all.

Draco sauntered into the library, looking as casual as possible. He picked up a random book off a shelf and leafed through it, then put it back, as if it didn’t have what he was looking for. Then Draco ambled over to another bookshelf, drawing nearer to his target. He perused another book in which he had no interest whatsoever.

After yet another bookshelf, Draco was finally close enough to make his approach without seeming desperate. And bonus! ... Score! ... She was crying quietly, wiping away tears from her rosy cheeks with a lace hanky.

“Hey Granger,” he said softly. “You alright?”

“What?” she looked up with those big brown eyes of hers, glistening wetly. “Oh, Malfoy, it’s you! What do you want?”

Draco tried not to let her mildly disdainful tone get under his skin, and thought he was doing so admirably.

“It’s Weasley again, isn’t it?” he said sympathetically. “You deserve so much better, you know. I would never treat a girl the way he treats you...”

“Er... No, it’s not Ron,” she replied, looking a bit confused. “He and I broke up after... I’m just sad, thinking about all the friends I lost when... you know...”

Abort, abort, screamed Draco’s Noble self, but his pragmatic side urged him to keep going.

“I do know,” he murmured, casting his eyes down sorrowfully. “I’m sorry,” he said in almost a whisper, moving closer, a tear tricking down a pale cheek.

“You are?”

“I am... Hermione. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Oh.” She looked more confused than ever, but she was trembling slightly, her breath quickening, those perfect pouty lips parting slightly.

It was working! It was working! cheered both the pragmatic and the carnal Draco. Keep going! You’re on a roll!

“So,” he murmured, “what did happen between you and W... Ron, anyway?”

“Oh, er,” Hermione’s cheeks flushed slightly, and her glistening eyelashes fluttered as she cast her own eyes down, “well, if you must know, after it was all over - the war - I finally realised that we’d never really work out. We were just too incompatible...”

“Wait, why am I telling you this?” Her eyes shot up again, her brow furrowed with that adorable frown of hers.

“It might be my Veela heritage,” Draco suggested, lying his arse off. “I’m one sixteenth on my father’s mother’s side.”

“Really?” She actually looked interested, and she was trembling slightly again

Draco smiled and nodded, moving even closer.

“Really!” he said.

“What are you doing to my hand?” she said sharply, suddenly snatching it away from his.

Draco gasped. He hadn’t even realised that he had been gently caressing the back of her hand with his fingers. Play it off! Use it!

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled apologetically. “It’s just... every time I see you like this ... a little part of me dies...”

“It does?” Hermione raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“Yes!” Draco nodded, gazing at her with his soulful grey eyes. “I... I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe - but I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Hermione looked stunned, then she frowned skeptically again, and then she sighed and peered at him sadly. Draco melted. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as beautiful and heart-wrenching as that look.

“George, if that’s you, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. You can’t keep hiding your grief with these silly pranks...”

Needle scratch across a vinyl record! Everything came to a screeching halt in Draco’s brain.

Bloody hell! George again? Why the bloody fuck did everyone keep thinking he was George Weasley?

Play it off! Play it off! Act cool! Keep it together!

“N...no,” Draco stammered miserably. “It’s really me, Hermione, Draco! ... It’s just ... you don’t know what it’s like - having to grow up in a pureblood household - always having to pretend - having to hide your true feelings! ... I love you - I do, and I always have!”

Hermione peered at him more skeptically than ever.

“So,” she said sternly, “When you first called me Mudblood...?”

“An act! I had to put on a good show for the other Slytherins...”

“And all the other times you called me Mudblood... hundreds of times... ?”

“All for show! I swear!” said Draco with an earnest, yearning gaze.

“And all the times you hoped I’d be murdered? ... Second Year - the Basilisk? Fourth Year - after Voldemort returned...?”

“I never meant a word of it! I love you - you have to believe me!”

“And when you sexually harassed me at the World Cup? There weren’t any other Slytherins around when you said you wanted to see my knickers while I was dangling upside down like that poor muggle woman your father and his friends were abusing!”

“That...” Draco’s pallid cheeks flushed. How the hell was he going to play that one off? It suddenly occurred to him.

“I... I’m sorry about harassing you like that! Really! I...it’s just - I’ve got a thing for you, alright? I really didwant to see you in your knickers... because you’re just so damn hot! I couldn’t help myself!”

Hermione almost snorted at that and giggled.

“You can’t be serious!”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life! You mean the world to me, Hermione!”

“You mean like when you let your auntie torture me?” she said, her voice hardening. “I’ve still got the scars, you know. A blade like that - cursed! Those scars will never fade.”

“I hate myself for that! ... I hate myself for not being strong enough to stand up to my family when it counted most! You don’t know how many nights I lay awake, crying about what I’d let her do to you. ... I should have died for you! I would die for you! I’d protect you - I’d never let anyone hurt you ever again!”

Hermione’s features softened. Draco felt another surge of hope!

“And what about my friends? What about Harry? You tried to kidnap him for Voldemort during the final battle...”

“It was all Crabbe and Goyle - they were the ones who were trying to capture Harry. I was just playing along until I could get away and join you lot - I swear! You have to believe me! And, er... and to be perfectly honest, one of the reasons I always heckled Harry was because I was jealous... mainly because I thought that he and you were, er... you know - together...”

As he peered at Hermione pleadingly, Draco could see her relenting - she was buying it hook, line, and sinker. He praised himself for a job well done and reckoned now was the time to drop the bombshell.

Draco got down on one knee and reached into his pocket, retrieving a black velvet jewellery box, his heart racing. He wasn’t even sure why his heart was racing, but in that moment Draco didn’t question it. Even his Noble self was strangely silent.

Hermione simply gaped at him in amazement as he opened the box, displaying the golden ring inset with a sparkling forty carat diamond. She loved it; he could tell.

“Hermione Granger, from the bottom of my heart, I love you now and forever. Would you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?”

He had her! Draco knew it - that look in her eyes - those big gorgeous brown eyes that one could lose themselves in forever. Hermione looked like she was about to cry. She took his free hand and clasped it between her own. The warmth of her touch sent shivers up his spine.

“Oh Draco,” she said softly, her voice like an angel’s, “You poor, poor thing! ...”

Wait... what?

“I am so sorry! ... Believe me, if I’d known how, er... how, erm... well, er... you really ought to be seeing a Mind Healer - you must have taken an extremely powerful Confundus Charm during the battle. It must be simply awful for you. I’m so sorry I laughed at you a moment ago...”

She patted his hand gently. Draco couldn’t believe it as his world shattered, the shards littering the depths of his soul.

“...And I’m so sorry that I have to break it to you this way - knowing how much you probably actually believe everything you just said - but I’m already engaged... to Harry! Now, how about I get you to the hospital wing...”

Draco’s eyes suddenly caught the sunlight glinting from a slender, elegant gold band on her ring finger. How could he have not seen it? She must have been deliberately hiding it.

Draco quickly stood up, his eyes stinging with tears, his cheeks blazing like a furnace, his lips quivering, nostrils flaring. He quickly turned around and stalked out of the library feeling like his heart had been ripped out, barely hearing her call after him, “Draco - wait... you need help...”

She had been playing him the whole time. A bubbling rage boiled in the churning cauldron of Draco’s stomach. That stuck-up, Mudblood bitch - he should have known! Well one day... one day when all the fuss had died down, when everyone was complacent, the Purebloods would rise again from the ashes of history and then she’d pay - they’d all pay!

Potter, Granger, Weasley, and everyone they had ever loved would burn as Nature’s Nobility once again took their rightful place upon the Earth...



“Wait, you can’t be bloody serious!” Harry gaped at Hermione in amazement. “You’re pulling my leg!”

“I’m not, Harry. I promise!”

“He actually asked you to marry him? ... Draco asked you to marry him, and he really thought you’d say yes?”

“I think so, Harry! You should have seen the look in his eyes. And when I told him... He was absolutely crushed! ... Even though I can’t stand to be in the same room with him, I still felt dreadful...”

“Bloody hell!” Harry shook his head, still not quite able to wrap his mind around it. “Blimey, he’s off his bloody nut! He must’ve been brain damaged during the battle...”

“Now that you’re here, you won’t use your position as Head Boy to be mean to him, will you?” Hermione asked worriedly. “I mean, I know he’s absolutely horrible, but he’s not in his right mind - and anyway you’rethe one who forgave him and told Shacklebolt to give him another chance...”

“Er... I thought that was what you’d want me to do.” Harry began to feel a bit puzzled.

“Not really, no!” said Hermione, shaking her bushy head. “I think he should have gone to Azkaban for all the awful things he’s done - for a few years at least - but now he belongs in St Mungo’s! ... His father though - he should have got life if you ask me.”

“Why didn’t you say so at the time?” asked Harry, feeling very bewildered now.

“Because you were in so much pain Harry!” Hermione shot him a look of such deep sorrow that it made Harry’s heart ache.

“You’re still in pain,” she continued, “I feel it every night when I’m with you! ... Forgiving people is your way of dealing with the grief! I couldn’t take that away from you. It’s one of the things I really love about you... but sometimes you’re a bit too forgiving for your own good.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, rubbing at his forehead, “You’ve got a point there. ... I mean, Ron’s still sulking after the blowout, but eventually he’ll come around - he always does - hopefully in time for our wedding, and I’ll forgive him of course - ...”



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