A/N: My name (still) isn't JK Rowling, and I don't lay claim to any of her hard work.

Hello my darlings,

Some of you may remember the little competition I hosted on Tumblr. A lot of people voted for me to write a Dramione fic, so here we are.

Dramione in a Hogwarts setting proved a lot harder to write than I initially thought. I'm super nervous about this one, because I want everyone to like it as much as I did as I wrote it.

If you're not here because of Tumblr, then I applaud you because my summary, like always, sucks. :')

This story will be about how Hermione and Draco deal with the events during and prior The Deathly Hallows. There will be PTSD, there will be romance and there will be angst. If you're game for these three things, then I welcome you. If you're not, I will still welcome you. (Just be nice if you dislike it.)

I am not JK Rowling so my biggest fear is that I see her characters in a different light than someone else. Know that I mean no offense in my portrayal of these characters. Just like with "The Christmas Date" I'll be uploading a new chapter ever Sunday.

That being said, I would love to hear your thoughts on this work! Enjoy!

Love,

Kelly

I Of Monsters and Witches

1. Isolation

Hermione was in denial about many things, but not about Draco Malfoy. She might not hate him as much as she used to – he did throw his wand at Harry during the final battle, after all – but that didn't mean she liked him. That didn't mean anything, but that he wasn't the monster she'd always thought he was. Okay, maybe that was taking it a bit far, she thought.

Draco Malfoy wasn't a monster, but he was more than just a villain.

She'd been worrying over her mental analysis of his behaviour that day when she realised she'd be late for dinner if she didn't hurry.

She hurried along the empty and chilly corridors of Hogwarts, and wished – not for the first time – that her friends were with her. It was weird spending so much time apart, especially after they'd been inseparable for the past year when they hunted Horcruxes.

Hermione tried to fight the chill that had settled in her body as she dashed through a maze of corridors. So many had died in May. Had it really only been months ago? She'd tried not to notice the castle's new inhabitants, but it was rather hard when she used to sit next to them in classes.

So yes, maybe they weren't new inhabitants per se, but they certainly were new ghosts.

She was doing this all wrong.

She stopped when she arrived at the Great Hall, and before entering, hid behind a pillar to catch her breath. She hadn't realised that she'd been running her way down. A sob caught in her throat, and she cursed herself for not going home during the holidays.

She'd written Harry that she couldn't see him right now, and she'd written him that staying at school would keep her more focused on her studies. Ron hadn't deserved the way she'd broken things off over the summer, but they were just too young and this was going too fast and Hermione couldn't breathe.

She loved Ron. Had loved him for years, but it didn't feel the same after. That wasn't his fault, nor was it hers. Nothing bad had happened over the summer, but the epic kiss they'd shared during last year's battle had been the only one that conveyed so much emotion and love.

After the thrill of the chase and being chased, Hermione wanted more out of life. She wanted more than the standard job at the Ministry of Magic, she wanted more than the 2,63 children Muggle analysts promised her she was likely to have. Hermione tried to calm herself down. There was no reason to have a panic attack on the first day of the Christmas holidays.

She'd insisted on coming back to finish her school career this year, despite her parents' wishes. Harry and Ron had supported her decision, but she could tell that they both thought she was crackers. They had enrolled into Auror school, and she missed them terribly. Hogwarts just wasn't the same without them. Ginny tried to make her feel welcome and appreciated, but mostly Hermione just felt lonely. Not unlike how she'd felt when she first came to this school when she was eleven.

She couldn't help but feel that she needed to be alone to find herself again, and that maybe them being apart wasn't such a bad thing at all.

She knew this, but she felt like today wasn't one of those days where she accepted it as well. She irrationally felt abandoned by everyone.

Someone would surely come looking for her if she didn't pull herself together and faced the music. She stumbled from behind the pillar, when she thought the coast was clear.

It was only then that she saw how beautifully decorated the pillars in front of the Great Hall were. Enchanted blue and silver lights floated up and down the pillars and lit a path to the great, wooden doors of the Great Hall.

From what she could see, from where she stood, the Great Hall itself had been transformed into an ice palace. Floating candles, little bushes of mistletoe and the ceiling was snowing faintly under a dark winter sky.

She didn't really think she was ready to go in yet, because she knew who she'd see there. It was weird how she'd started obsessing over someone she used to hate, and still heavily disliked. Was it really because Harry and Ron weren't here with her? Was she catching Harry's crazy from sixth year? He'd been really obsessed with the lad himself then, and now he seemed to have passed the torch on to her.

Hermione didn't like watching Malfoy whenever she crossed his path, but she felt like she had to. It wasn't that she expected that he would do something nasty or evil. No, her gaze was drawn to him, like an art connoisseur's to a Rubens. She had to study the paint, the game of tag between shadows and light, that made it a masterpiece. Not that Malfoy was a masterpiece to her, it merely shocked her to see that he was struggling as much with what had happened as everyone else.

Which was only logical, she supposed, and yet she didn't trust his reaction. She felt like it was up to her to keep an eye on him for all of them, to ensure that he didn't lead another pack of stray Death Eaters into the Great Hall.

With a deep breath, she tried to finally push Malfoy, the battle and Harry and Ron from her mind. These thoughts would do her no good now. She closed her eyes for a second, before she entered the Great Hall. In the middle of the room, a small table was set for the those that were left behind this Christmas. There were only ten of them this year, and Hermione could understand the need to leave this place filled with ghosts and nightmares.

Sometimes she wondered if she'd ever wake up.

The teachers were merrily chatting away on their usual seats, and some of them nodded at her when they spotted her walking down the length of the Hall to join the others. She forced a smile as she sat down at the large, round table and grabbed a piece of bread.

"Hi Hermione," Seamus greeted her. His sandy hair looked a little dishevelled, which wasn't that weird since she'd seen him napping on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room earlier.

"Hey," she murmured with a little smile, and nodded to Dean who was sitting next to Seamus. Next to Dean sat a first year Hufflepuff named Anita. She'd become an orphan after the Second Wizarding War, and would rather stay at school than go back to her grandmother's. She had tiny freckles dotted across her nose and was quite popular already among the other first years. She'd do well here, Hermione thought.

Next to her sat Zacharias Smith, much to Hermione's dismay. He didn't greet her, even though they used to be in DA together. In a way she was glad, she didn't like the way Zacharias had behaved in the years she'd known him. Maybe Ron's dislike for him had rubbed off on her, but the way he'd gone on and on about Cedric Diggory during DA meetings had been grating.

She could understand the curiosity and thirst for knowledge, but he hadn't wanted to know about Cedric's last moments because he cared. No, he'd wanted to know because of the sensation, because he'd probably wanted bragging rights and because he didn't believe Harry.

Harry was Hermione's best friend, and it felt like when you hated him, you also hated her. She wouldn't stand by and watch any of her friends be mistreated. Definitely not by Zacharias Smith.

Next to Zacharias sat two Ravenclaws. Her gaze moved further along the round table, and she saw that on her other side another third year was sat.

"Quinten, right?" she asked the uncomfortable looking Slytherin next to her.

It couldn't be easy staying at Hogwarts with only one other Slytherin as your companion.

The boy gulped as he stared at her, before he quickly nodded and turned to look at the Slytherin seated between him and the two Ravenclaws. Draco Malfoy didn't even so much as glance at him.

Okay then. Hermione sighed and decided that some mashed potatoes would probably make her feel better.

"Anyway," Seamus said, "as I was saying, I just don't get what you're doing here this year, Malfoy."

Zacharias snorted at that. "Me neither."

"Well," Hermione said flippantly without thinking, "none of us get why you're here either, Zacharias."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the lean blond asked Hermione heatedly, a blush rising to his cheeks.

"If one wants to abandon a sinking ship, all they have to do is follow the rats," she said vehemently.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Please," Dean suddenly said, speaking up. "Didn't you run from the battle last year?"

Zacharias gave the Gryffindors a filthy look. "We weren't obligated to stand with Potter, you know."

"Oh," Rina, a fifth year Ravenclaw, said. Her hazel eyes zeroed in on Zacharias as if she was an eagle that had just spotted its prey. "Are you telling us you stood with You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort," Hermione heard Draco whisper under his breath.

She paused and lowered the fork she'd been about to put in her mouth. She gripped it tighter and turned slightly to study the Slytherin sitting one seat away from her. His strong jaw was clenched as he stared at Rina.

"I didn't quite catch that," Rina said with a raised eyebrow, pushing her long raven hair out of her face as she focused on him.

"His name was Voldemort," Malfoy repeated again. "You might as well use it now."

Hermione silently stared at him, like everyone else at the table minus the small Slytherin on her left.

"Right," Seamus drawled. The drawl made his Scottish accent even heavier than it already was. He shook his head incredulously, as if he couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "We'll take advise from the biggest traitor at this table. Why McGonagall allowed you to come back, I'll never understand."

"Education should be available to all," the girl on Rina's right and Malfoy's left spoke up. She was wearing some of the mashed potatoes Hermione had been enjoying, and had her red hair done in a nice looking braid Hermione was a little jealous of.

"Listen, Frey, I would normally agree with you," Seamus started, shoving his fork roughly into his mountain of minced carrots, "but I doubt Malfoy's money couldn't hire him tutors so he could be homeschooled."

Hermione saw Malfoy shift in his seat from the corner of her eyes. "My money," he finally said coldly, "is none of your business."

"You shouldn't even be here," Seamus bit out, before shovelling his food into his mouth violently.

Hermione made a face as she watched the complete lack of table manners next to her. She just prayed that he wouldn't accidentally spit any of it on her when he talked. He ate with so much gusto, despite his anger, that it reminded her a little of Ron, and she couldn't help but grimace a little.

"Hermione might not think I deserve a place at this table, but I would much rather be a coward than a traitor," Zacharias added with a nasty glint in his eyes as he sneered at Malfoy.

"Just leave him alone already," Hermione told everyone at the table, interrupting whatever angry speech Malfoy was about to give. She couldn't deny that Malfoy had been her rival in more ways than one. He might have been working against them in the past, but he'd been nipping at her heels with his grades. He was still a close second to her near perfect grades in classes. She understood Malfoy's need to come back to school on an academic level.

On a social level, or on a human level, she would have advised him to stay far away from them all. She didn't know why she'd spoken up on his behalf though, he certainly wouldn't have for her.

But she was done with everyone whining about Malfoy's presence at the castle. If she heard one more moan about it, she was going to erupt like the Fat Lady at a concert hall. The horrible screams that would leave her throat would give them headaches for days. It had been McGonagall's decision to allow him back, and Hermione trusted McGonagall.

She got a bit flustered when everyone turned to her. "I just meant," she said a bit more carefully, "that it's none of our business why he returned."

Dean gave her a weird and worried look. "Are you quite all right, Hermione?"

If others were starting to notice that she was tearing at the seams, she needed to do a better job of hiding her broken parts. "Just peachy," she replied primly.

"It almost sounds like you care whether he stays or not, Granger," Zacharias said with a scowl that did nothing to compliment his features. He should have graduated last year, but thanks to the Battle all exams had been cancelled. A lot of past year's students had returned for one last year at Hogwarts, but Hermione wished that Zacharias hadn't been one of them.

She shouldn't have spoken up on Malfoy's behalf. She knew from experience what it was like to be picked on, to be sneered at, but most of that had come from Draco himself. She should have left it alone. Without looking in Malfoy's direction, she said, "Draco Malfoy is nothing to me."

Hermione was seated at her favourite table in the library. She'd tried to tame her insane haystack she called hair again by putting it in a ponytail. She wondered if the elastic band would have bursted by the end of the day.

It was Sunday morning and Christmas was only four days away, but Hermione Granger didn't feel very merry at the moment. Melancholy was a better term to describe how she was feeling, she supposed. Whenever she tried to focus on her homework, she kept seeing the face of Lavender Brown as Greyback feasted on her flesh like the monster he'd been.

She took a deep breath and remembered how Lavender had stirred after Hermione had blasted him off of her. Professor Trelawney had knocked him over the head with one of her blasted crystal balls, but even the thought of Divination finally being useful for once couldn't cheer Hermione up.

She tried to revise her Transfiguration homework again, but all she saw were Lavender's brown eyes staring back at her instead of her neat handwriting.

She rolled up the sleeves of her blue jumper and put her head on her balled fist as she stared unseeingly through the window.

The grounds had been restored the way they'd been before the battle had occurred. Winter now coated the world in a lovely blanket of snow and ice, but the lovely picture King Winter had painted outside left her cold. She didn't much care about the snow, when she knew that an Order member had died on the exact spot Rina and her friend were currently throwing snowballs at each other.

It was eerie in a way, Hermione thought, how easily she could fall back into the past. She wished she still had her Timeturner, because she would love a chance to do it all over again. To save Lavender before it was too late, to save Fred, to prevent Remus and Tonks from dying. She didn't want Teddy to grow up without parents, and she couldn't understand how they'd just abandoned him.

How they'd all been so reckless to get killed.

"Blimey, Hermione," she said to herself, "you're being irrational."

She knew no one had forgotten about the fallen. There was now a huge plaque at Hogwarts' entrance with all the names of the dead. No one had forgotten, and no one would ever be able to forget. And that might be what angered her the most. No matter how hard she tried, whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw were flashes of light chasing the ones she loved. She praised both Merlin and Morgana that so many of her friends had gotten out of that hell alive.

When she opened her eyes again, they fell on the scar on her arm.

"Mudblood," it said.

Air left her on a loud whoosh as she kept staring at the reminder Bellatrix Lestrange had left on her arm. Healers had assured her that they could take the scar away, but just like Harry, she'd refused. He still had the reminder not to tell lies on his hand, and she would wear the proof of her heritage with pride.

Yes, she was a "Mudblood", and she had survived the second war whereas Bellatrix had not. Many Purebloods obsessed with the purity of the Wizarding World hadn't, and Hermione couldn't say she regretted their passing as much as she did her friends'. It was still a shame that anyone had had to die, and it made her ashamed to say that she was relieved that Bellatrix was now gone. Sometimes, she could still feel the echo of Bellatrix' cackling and of the horrible sting in her arm.

Her quill broke in two, and with a shake of her head, she grabbed her wand.

"Snap out of it," she told herself, as she wordlessly repaired her quill.

She forced her eyes back to the parchment before her, and her neat handwriting was a welcome sight. Hermione wasn't fond of running away from her problems. She liked tackling them until she'd solved them.

When Hermione couldn't figure out how to use a certain difficult spell, for instance, she'd practice all night, if need be, until she'd mastered it.

It was harder to be a master of your own head when your brain rebelled against the mere thought of moving on. Hermione's books helped her find the focus she'd lost over the years. Whenever she had a goal, she used books to guide her through the obstacles she faced to reach it. Hermione liked studying and the tunnel vision she had whenever she was lost trying to figure out a difficult spell or potion. When Hermione held a book in her hands, there was nothing else but her and endless possibilities. It helped her take her mind off those horrible memories, and let her focus on the future instead.

Merlin, how she wanted a fulfilling future, and the only way to get there, or so she figured, was to finish school and find a job that would help her do some actual good in the world. Never again, did she want something like the past two wars to happen, and if that meant she had to find a job at the dreaded Ministry then so be it. But she preferred to avoid it if she could.

She'd finished revising her Transfiguration essay, and had only just started on her Runes translation when she heard someone taking a seat at the table behind the bookcase before her.

"It's sad in a way," a small voice said, "that they didn't succeed. We would have a lot more time with our professors if there were only Purebloods at Hogwarts."

Silence greeted that statement, and Hermione pushed herself out of her chair. What the bloody hell did that snobbish little brat think he was saying?

"Shut up," a cold voice hissed, "that kind of thinking got hundreds killed."

She froze when she recognised the voice. Draco Malfoy was speaking up for Muggleborns?

"Y-You can't say that you've changed your ideals?"

Hermione moved to the bookcase and peered curiously through a crack between the books to catch a glimpse of Malfoy and Quinten. Malfoy was sitting with his face towards her, and Hermione allowed her eyes to travel over what she could see of his body.

He was wearing a soft green jumper that made his eyes pop and hugged his shoulders. His hair was neatly styled, as always, and his frosty eyes were coldly regarding the small boy before him. He looked like a prince made of ice.

"You don't know what you're saying," Malfoy said unfeelingly. "You're an ignorant twelve-year-old boy. You should stop spouting nonsense before it gets you sent to Azkaban."

"Ah. So you're just saying whatever gets you out of trouble?"

She hadn't thought it possible, but his eyes frosted over even more. His hard features seemed to sharpen in the soft December light as he looked the boy up and down. He opened his mouth to speak, when his eyes suddenly snapped to hers.

Hermione pulled back and moved out of sight as if she'd been shocked. She leaned against the bookcase for a moment as she caught her breath.

"Draco?" she heard Quinten ask curiously.

She'd taken the Slytherin boy for a meek follower, someone out of place now that his friends had gone home for the holidays. How wrong she'd been. In him still slumbered the ideals and wishes of the wizarding elite. They, too, seemed stuck in the past and wished to return.

But unlike her, the Pureblood families didn't want to change anything. No, they wanted everything to remain exactly the same.

The fact that someone that young was still brainwashed into that way of thinking, while appearing meek and frightened in the company of others, made Hermione furious.

These games they played were dangerous.

Besides, who did Draco Malfoy think he was? Saying the right stuff so he wouldn't follow his crazy family's example and be locked up in Azkaban? Was that really what he was doing?

How dare he pretend he was better than anyone else? When it was his fault that the Death Eaters managed to get inside in the first place!

He had been tasked to kill Dumbledore, and he had lured Katja Bell to a bathroom and hexed her. Draco Malfoy was the scum of the Earth, and Seamus had been right. He didn't deserve to be here anymore. He'd had his chance, and he'd gotten Dumbledore killed.

The more she thought about it, the less she understood McGonagall.

She moved to her table and started throwing her stuff into her bag. She needed out of here, before she hexed the ice prince into a puddle of mud water.

"Eavesdropping, Granger?"

His voice was like a frosty winter day; beautiful, but brisk.

"Get away from me, Malfoy," she muttered, as she turned around to face him. She didn't fear this ferret. She'd seen his worst sides, and there were many. None of them had scared her. She raised her chin. Hit me with your worst, she seemed to say.

"Or what?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow, which told her he was less than impressed by her performance.

She opened her mouth, and she was sure that a year ago she would have given him a witty retort. Right now, however, she came up empty, which hadn't really happened to her before. She closed her mouth again, realising how idiotic she must have looked, and pushed her way past him. She hurried out of the library and allowed her feet to carry her as fast as she could towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

The steady cadence of her feet seemed to ground her more than a nasty dig at Malfoy ever could have. It almost seemed like the knights standing guards in the corridors were trees, and she was madly dashing through the woods again, trying to escape.

But she wasn't, she was back at school, and she hadn't realised that she'd arrived at the Common Room.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked her in an irritable voice, making Hermione wonder just how often she'd already asked.

She looked around herself, a bit embarrassed, and wondered how long she'd been staring blindly ahead of her.

"Christmas carol."

The portrait swung open, and when she entered the Common Room, she spotted Seamus and Dean, who'd been sitting suspiciously close to each other. Normally, Hermione would have cracked a joke or teased them a little, but she couldn't be bothered today. She smiled at their greetings, but made no effort to join them.

Even the twinkling Christmas tree beside them looked bleak to Hermione in that moment.

She hurried her way upstairs, where she dropped her bag on the floor. When she heard her ink bottle crack she stomped her foot on the ground in frustration. But instead of banding down to rescue her essay, she slowly walked to the window and sat down in front of it.

She stared towards the Lake and let her memories of happier days whisk her away.