If Draco had his health to worry about, he would be concerned with his obsession. As it turned out, he had come to terms with the fact that he would most likely live longer than the average wizard, and he had also come to terms with this.

His obsession was in the form of a rather ordinary brunette, and over the years he had struggled with understanding why she invaded his thoughts and dictated every action he took. Draco had once chalked it up to harmless competition. He had detested being second best, so it was only natural to track her habits to determine just why that was so. Why did she go to the library for hours a day? Why did she go at night? Why did she seclude herself in corners of Hogwarts' walls? Places, he was unashamed to admit, where he melted into the shadows?

Now that he was older, school over, and the days of competition far and few, Draco had no excuse as to why he still called shadows home. He could find his witch in the dark. He could even hear her from miles away if he listened hard enough. In fact, it was that latter skill that brought him to where he was tonight. He hated what he had heard, and it had led to the animalistic destruction of his home. Despite that, it didn't quell the rage and jealousy in his heart.

And so, he waited. Although he knew the precise number of steps and kilometers from his home to hers, he had used his keen sense of hearing to guide him. On the journey there he had alternated between anger and longing. The evidence of her pleasure, screams for "more," and grunts and groans, had painted a vivid picture for Draco. It was an image that he loved and desired more than anything. It also infuriated him because he wasn't the cause.

An hour was spent listening up close, eyes closed and attempting to hear her and only her. It was just before dawn, but the sky looked like midnight. Draco was still at the house, and he stood cautiously as a man who didn't live with her left it. There was an apparation spot nearby and that was the direction the stranger took. Draco followed at a distance, smiling with pointed teeth at how uneasy the man was. Quick steps, pauses, turning his head this way and that. It was comical and heightened the hunt.

The man seemed relieved to have made it to his destination, but before he could disparate Draco pulled him by the shoulder and rammed him against the wall in the alley they were in.

"What are you-?!"

"Shh," Draco hissed. It wasn't his words that had quieted the man. It was the fact that his suddenly clawed fingernails had gently grazed the man's face from temple to chin. "You made a mistake by touching my witch."

The man gulped and his gaze focused on Draco's mouth, his teeth sharp like a razor's edge.

"H-Hermione said that she wasn't s-seeing anyone."

"She's not," Draco confirmed. "And neither will you be."

Draco's clawed hand slashed against the man's neck and left five gashes, blood leaking from each one down to his chest. He let the man drop to the ground and he sighed, looking left and right before straightening his collar and disapparating as though nothing had happened.

Author's note: Well! This brainchild was the work of three lovely people who are utter enablers (one who's pen name is ravenclaw-sass :). I wasn't planning on posting this yet, but a trope thread in a Facebook group was an excellent prompt for this. A drabble for now, but yes, I'd like to continue it when classes are not in session and my other WIPs finish :).