Author's Note: Hey everyone, and welcome to OGDL! This short story has been in the works for almost a year now. It is ten chapters long, is completely written, and updates will be weekly. I hope you enjoy!

Love and hugs to my alpha, Kyonomiko, and my beta, I Was BOTWP, for their assistance.

Warning: This story contains the following: Alcohol consumption, sexual content, and smut.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

Draco Malfoy dawdled as he paced the hallways, keeping one halfway-attentive ear open for students out of bed. His gaze fell to the Prefect's badge affixed to his chest. Though he still wasn't entirely certain whether McGonagall hadn't lost it during the war, after being back at Hogwarts for a month now, Draco had started to settle into a routine again.

And while he thought she was barmy for giving him Prefect, he enjoyed the perks, especially usage of the Prefect baths. If it meant he had to drag his arse around a few times a week after hours, then so be it.

Draco had realized shortly after returning for his eighth year, it was nice to have the time alone to think. And to avoid other students.

Not that Draco didn't have any friends at Hogwarts – he was lucky Blaise and Theo had both decided to return and complete their NEWTs as well – it was simply that most of the other students avoided him. Which he preferred to the scathing, hissed remarks.

Death Eater. Scum. Rot in Azkaban with your father.

He had been one hundred percent over it after two days.

Despite the three weeks he had spent in a holding cell in the bowels of the Ministry, Draco had been acquitted, his actions cited as under duress. The only condition of his freedom had been to complete his education at Hogwarts – which he had intended to do, regardless.

But as things fell into a new normal, Draco's return to the school had become old news. There was a new Defense teacher. Muggle Studies was now mandatory. McGonagall had taken over as Headmistress. Most of the damage had been repaired over the summer – the few lingering cosmetic issues had healed themselves shortly after the year had begun. Draco had always suspected the castle to be sentient, and now he had proof.

The Room of Hidden Things remained damaged beyond repair. Good riddance.

The palpable tension that had hung, thick and rancorous in the air the previous year had dissipated.

Draco slipped a finger into his tie, loosening the Windsor, and released the top buttons of his oxford. He was nearing the end of his patrol route and it had been a tiresome day. He was more than ready to drop into his bed in the newly built eighth year dorm, and pass out.

He halted in his step at the sound of a high-pitched giggling.

He rolled his eyes, huffing a long exhale. He had been so close to a quiet, incident-free night.

As he neared the room from which the noise had come, Draco shook his head. A deeper voice, muffled through the door, could also be heard. As if they hadn't heard of a Silencing Charm.

Draco sniffed, lifting his chin. Some of the students in this school possessed an utter lack of decorum. Snogging – or Merlin forbid – shagging in a bloody classroom? He released a haughty sigh.

Probably half-bloods. Or Muggle-borns. No purebloods Draco knew were so improper.

In fact, most of the Slytherins at the very least, had been raised much like Draco. It was only proper to save oneself for their intended.

Sure, Draco had fooled around here and there, but sex was another thing entirely.

But yet students traipsed around the school, tittering about, and towing one another into broom closets like they lacked any sense of pride whatsoever.

No, thank you.

His nose wrinkled and lip curled into a sneer, Draco opened the door.

The students, two seventh years, by what Draco could tell, scrambled to collect their clothing, in various states of undress.

"Detention," Draco drawled, raising one elegant brow. "Both of you. And get back to your dorms before I make it more."

The girl was a Ravenclaw and Draco narrowed his eyes as the boy shuffled past, swinging a Slytherin tie around his neck. Draco sneered, staring as he handed them both a magically binding detention slip.

"You ought to be ashamed," he sniped and the boy rolled his eyes.

"Like you haven't done it?" the seventh year asked with a sort of shrug, following his girlfriend – floozy – tramp – from the room.

Draco scowled and carried on with his rounds.

There was a small contingent of night owl eighth years still awake when Draco returned to the newly constructed common room on the fourth floor, including Theo and Blaise, who were playing chess and drinking Firewhisky.

"You look grouchy," Blaise commented, taking a swig from his glass as he advanced a rook.

Draco sighed and swiped a tumbler from the kitchenette, helping himself to a glass of Blaise's alcohol.

"I came across two seventh years in a classroom, doing who knows what, and they hadn't even bothered to cast a silencing charm. And he was a Slytherin and ought to have known better."

Blaise shrugged. "So?" Then he cursed as Theo claimed one of his knights. "It isn't that big of a deal."

"Maybe not to you," Draco sniffed. "He's from an old house, like Theo and I. It's improper."

"Well then count me glad I'm not from an old house," Blaise said with a lazy grin, even as his gaze flickered across the room to three girls – one Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws – who were sitting in the far corner and giggling over a bottle of elf-made wine. "Life at Hogwarts without women is just school, and that gets boring fast."

Draco rolled his eyes and settled back on the couch, feeling the tension leave his shoulders. "You're a fucking rake, Blaise. Not everyone is like that."

"I, for one," Theo spoke up, his attentive gaze still fixed on the chess board, "intend to make reparations for my current situation as soon as possible. Now that Father's in Azkaban, I have no one I need to please. So that means, no archaic marriage arrangements for me, and I can do whatever I want." His gaze travelled to the group of girls, a smirk on his lips. One of them looked up and waved with a shy smile. "For instance, that Hufflepuff Perks over there."

"You can't be serious," Draco intoned, glancing at the girls and quickly back to his oldest friend. "You too?"

"It's a new age, Draco," Theo quipped with a shrug. "The half-bloods and Muggle-borns are all having sex. Why shouldn't we?"

"Because it isn't how we were raised." Draco rolled his eyes, even as the words of his two best mates niggled at something in the back of his mind. "Won't you expect your future wife to have saved herself?"

Theo raised his hands. "If she wants to have fun before we meet, who am I to say otherwise?" He fixed his hazel eyes on Draco. "Are you telling me, even with Lucius inside on a life sentence, you're going to continue putting any stock in such outdated customs? We're heads of our house lines now, Draco, and it isn't the sixteen-hundreds anymore."

Blaise nodded with a pointed gesture at Theo. "You ought to get on with it too, Draco. Before you're the last bloody virgin sixth year and up."

"That can't be true," Draco scoffed. "What about the girls in Slytherin?"

"Most of them have had sex already," Blaise said with a shrug. Then he cursed as Theo slipped his queen across the board with a smug gin, putting Blaise's king into checkmate. "Fuck this; that's the fourth time tonight!"

"Daphne," Draco deadpanned.

"Oh, Daph's a fucking vixen," Blaise said with a chuckle, his irritation over the defeat already passed.

"No!" Draco exclaimed, feeling an uncomfortable lump settle in his stomach. "Daph and I were meant to be arranged, before the war and everything happened."

"Well, you'd have been the only one waiting, I'll promise you that," Blaise said, pouring himself another glass. "I mean it – you're one of the last buying into those old traditions. Especially in this post-war climate."

Draco frowned, sloshing the liquid around in his cup. Perhaps he was looking at this wrong.

Theo fixed him with a stern glare. "Do you want to go the path of your father or not?"

"Not," Draco said with distaste. His father had nearly ruined Draco's life along with his own, and his mind was still often riddled with terrible memories and nightmares from his time as an unwilling Death Eater.

Theo turned back to the chess board and began setting up the pieces for a fifth match. "Then there's your answer. Find a woman and get yourself laid."

Draco stared across the room at the three eighth year girls, his eyes narrowing. None of them were bad-looking, but he wasn't going to simply approach one of them and ask. For one thing, he was a little embarrassed to learn he was one of the only ones keeping to the old traditions and he didn't need that to become public knowledge.

He wasn't terrible with women, despite that relationships had been the last thing on his mind through his sixth and seventh years. But life was different this year, and now Draco had the time and the mental bandwidth to consider these things.

"By the way, the Muggle-borns are the most willing," Blaise said, sipping his whiskey as he moved a pawn two spaces forward. "And the half-bloods. If you want something without too many strings attached. Which I recommend, for the first time. You might not be the most adept."

"I'll be plenty adept," Draco retorted. He hated feeling at a disadvantage, and even Theo had prospects when he didn't. "The Muggle-borns though? Really?"

"Absolutely," Blaise agreed with a nod. "Muggles are far more open about their sexuality than witches and wizards, as a general rule. And they're also more… adventurous."

Draco snickered and shook his head. "Most of them, I'm sure. Not Granger. She's got that stick so far up her arse."

Both Blaise and Theo burst into laughter and Draco's brows shot up high on his forehead.

"Not Granger?" Blaise repeated, chuckling. "I guarantee you, Granger is one of the most adventurous, despite that she isn't the most outwardly promiscuous."

Draco gaped at his mate. "You?"

"Not me," Blaise said, and quickly amended, "not yet. But I've heard things."

"From who!" Draco demanded. He refused to believe that he was a virgin, while swotty, teacher's pet Granger wasn't.

"I don't remember," Blaise said with a shrug. "But the point is, Draco, you're not gaining anything by waiting. Trust me – you'll be happier when you loosen up a little."

"But Theo hasn't," Draco pointed out.

"Theo hasn't yet," Theo echoed; he was still making eyes at the Hufflepuff across the room. "Give it – two weeks."

Draco scoffed. "Two weeks! You won't even have asked Perks out two weeks from now."

Theo's eyes narrowed as he made a move on the chess board and then looked up. "Perks!" he shouted and she looked up, smiling. "Hogsmeade Saturday?"

Exchanging a glance and a giggle with her two Ravenclaw friends, Perks nodded with a sort of self-deprecating shrug.

"I think I can fit you in," she returned.

Draco groaned, shaking his head.

"Your move," Theo said, turning his triumphant stare back on Draco.

Draco eyed the two Ravenclaws with consideration. Blaise smacked him on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Not those two," he hissed. "I've got my eye on one or the other. Find your own."

"Unreasonable," Draco snipped. "But fine. I'll find someone, but I'm not setting any time limits. I don't want to rush it with just anyone."

He still couldn't believe Granger wasn't a virgin.

"You have a month," Blaise said, dismissive.

"No," Draco said through ground teeth and a clenched jaw. "I'll take my time."

"It isn't studying for NEWTs, Draco, it's having sex. You don't need to take your time, just pick one and do what you have to do. Like Theo's just done."

Across from Blaise, Theo chuckled.

"It feels like taking advantage of them by only looking for sex," Draco admitted.

"Not if they only want sex, too," Blaise reminded him. "Obviously I'm not telling you to cross any lines or make undue promises. That's heinous and distasteful."

"Fine," Draco said, his eyes narrowed. "I'll give it some thought." He slammed the remainder of his Firewhisky, his body heavy with fatigue. "I'm going to sleep."

Then he stalked down the corridor towards the dorms. Every eighth year had their own room, and now having learned this startling revelation, Draco felt glad of it.

He awoke the next morning feeling groggy and restless, having found little sleep the night before. All Draco could think about was the fact that he had been mistaken in his beliefs that he wasn't the only one still holding out, and the fact that he had committed to finding someone to whom he would give his virginity.

Without being an awkward bumbling fool. He had snogged a few witches before, but he wasn't familiar with the inner workings of the female body, and it would be obvious to any potential bed partners that he didn't know what he was doing.

Briefly, he considered asking a friend for a favour – if Daphne had already had sex, Pansy would have most certainly done as well.

But he didn't want either of them to know. He and Pansy had dated briefly in fifth year but it hadn't gone anywhere; it wasn't a can of worms he was looking to open again.

Ideally, it would be someone with whom he didn't have an existing relationship of any kind, someone he didn't see on a regular basis, and someone whose opinion meant little.

In History of Magic that morning, Draco found himself making a list of potential girls – he had charmed the parchment so no one but him could read its contents – and the list was long enough that Draco began to feel hopeful. Even if some of the girls were simply monikers, such as Blonde Seventh Claw with Fringe.

Theo snickered beside him as he worked, but given he couldn't read the list, Draco wasn't concerned.

Even despite that, he shielded his hand as he wrote the last name: Granger.

It wasn't as if Draco thought she was even that fit – although, he supposed, she was fit – but he couldn't shake the idea that she was more promiscuous than he. That she was, as Blaise had put it, adventurous.

He had only ever seen swotty, prissy Granger with her nose in a book. The thought that there was such a contrary side to her had Draco more than a little intrigued and, if he was honest, hot beneath the collar.

But of course, she would never go for him. Not with the ugly past that lingered above them. Hesitating, he nearly scratched her name from the list but couldn't bring himself to do so.

He folded the list into a tight square and tucked it into the bottom of his satchel.

The problem with Draco's list, he had learned a few days later, was that most of the female population of Hogwarts had no interest in him.

He'd had decent enough luck with girls before the war – but it appeared that no longer held true. His list had been admittedly ambitious and optimistic, but in the first two days he had crossed off more than half the names. Although some had been borne of his own second thoughts, and not from failed social interactions.

He found himself staring closer at the girls in his classes, in the eighth year common room, in the Great Hall at mealtimes. Watching, wondering – and for the first time, allowing himself to consider the options.

Prior to the war, he had believed he would be betrothed and wed to Daphne Greengrass, and so there had been no consideration to the development of a true relationship with anyone else. But the arrangement had been called off after Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to Azkaban, and Daphne's parents – from what Draco had heard – were looking into other options.

Draco didn't mind, even though he considered Daphne a friend and she was pretty enough. She wasn't the sort of girl he would have chosen for himself, and he knew the same was true for her.

But now with the freedom that lied outside of potential arrangements, Draco found himself wondering whether he might be interested in pursuing a real relationship with someone.

Which made the pressure to find someone with whom to have sex all the more overwhelming. Would it be a person he was actually interested in? Or would it simply be a mutual exchange of – he hoped – sexual satisfaction? A means for Draco to wet his wick and move on to the next with the knowledge and preparedness he currently lacked.

Blaise's pointed stares weren't helping. "Just pick someone," he scoffed, with an exaggerated sigh, on the third morning.

Draco sniffed and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "You don't just pick a stallion when you have a breeding mare, Blaise."

"Well unless you're trying to breed with someone, it doesn't matter," Blaise said. "You have twenty-eight days."

"I never agreed to your inane and inadequate deadline," Draco said, idly scratching a name from his list, given the girl had sneered and turned in the other direction when he approached her before breakfast.

"You should want it faster," Blaise snorted. "Believe me."

Draco's eyes narrowed at his rapidly dwindling list.

Draco scowled across his table in the library at the back of a curly, brunette head of hair.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, he had yet to cross Granger's name from his list. If anyone, she should have been one of the first, as there was certainly no reconciliation in the cards for the two of them. Draco had been a right arse to her for six years – and the girl had literally been tortured on the floor of his drawing room less than a year prior.

But he couldn't seem to sate his curiosity.

Presumably feeling his gaze sear into her, Granger's head spun around and her eyes narrowed upon seeing Draco at the next table over.

"What?" she hissed, a frown curving her lips.

Draco wondered what Blaise meant by adventurous. He wondered who had told Blaise – who had received the first-hand experience.

He felt a faint pinking in his cheeks and sneered. "Nothing."

With a huff, Granger spun her whole body in the seat. Draco couldn't help his gaze from flickering to her uniform. Her tie was removed and the top two buttons of her shirt undone. It was more modest than some of the girls wore but he swallowed, feeling a twitch in his trousers.

"Malfoy!" she snapped in a sharp whisper, and Draco swept his gaze up to meet hers, feeling out of sorts. "Why are you staring at me!"

"I wasn't," he denied, brow furrowing with a frown. "I was considering the sentence I just read and you happened to be sitting there."

Granger rolled her eyes and shook her head. "If you're just here to mock me –"

"Not everything revolves around you, Granger," Draco scoffed and fought the urge to wince at his heavy tone. Because he needed another reason to cross her from his list.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder and scratched her neck – she kept her fingernails longer than Draco would have expected from such a practical and studious girl. His gaze lingered on the creamy column of her throat.

He wondered whether she was the type to scratch her partner during sex and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

"You're still staring!" Granger exclaimed, the pitch of her voice growing higher with her derision.

Draco took a breath, moistening his lips with his tongue. He opened his mouth to tell her off again, and hissed, "Do you want to have sex?"

His eyes widened and his jaw snapped shut.

Something flashed across Granger's face and then she steeled her expression, her eyes hard. "Sod off, Malfoy, you tosser," she snapped, stacking up her papers and shoving them into her bookbag. Her lip curled as she rose to her feet, standing abruptly to leave.

Draco blinked after her, wondering why he felt so numb.