Smells Like Teen Spirit

London Loves

A/N: Playlist is on spotify at canttouchthis or can be found on my Tumblr at canttouchthis87

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April 8, 1998

Spring was bittersweet for the Seventh Years; there was the growing excitement over Graduation, but also anxiety over NEWTS and the knowledge that their time at Hogwarts was nearing its final end.

Draco distinctly remembered 'hating' school not long ago, thinking of how excited he would be to graduate. But now, as he sat in the library watching Hermione write notes on Arithmancy and frantically consult her timetables, he couldn't imagine possibly longing for such a thing.

The precipice was growing nearer and nearer - that moment where he would have to decide whether to take the easy path or not. The problem was, it was no longer clear which was which.

As a child, before he knew better and had idolized his father, he dreamt of taking on his father's role as head of family - he'd accompany Lucius to work and meetings and imagine himself sitting behind the mahogany desk, drafting memos and ordering underlings around.

Now, beyond the simple fact that even the idea of such work bored him to tears, that life seemed inherently flawed - since she could never be in it. He knew it was irrational to consider such decisions with Hermione in mind - but he couldn't help it. Somehow, in such a short time, he felt they had become inextricably linked.

He had tried to indirectly broach the subject with his father on a phone call, asking if perhaps the requirement for marrying a Pureblood was really more of a suggestion. The resulting tantrum from Lucius assured him that there was no room for compromise.

There was no choice. This was his responsibility.

But it felt inherently wrong.

"Draco." Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Have you solved question 34?"

He looked down at his NEWTS study workbook Hermione had made for him as a 'present'. He resolved to have a chat with her after NEWTS about the difference between a gift and homework — but in the meantime, had agreed to follow her regimen and guides. Even if it was a bit much.

"Er... sorry. I'm on 9," he replied with a sheepish grin, his eyes apologetic.

She frowned, her eyes shining in disappointment. "NEWTS are only a month away! You have to take this seriously."

He felt properly chastised but couldn't help smiling at the way her hair shot to the side when she huffed and how her ears turned red when she was angry at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just preoccupied," he told her honestly.

She deflated slightly, appearing sympathetic. "Try not to think about it."

That was typically his line whenever the subject of his father and life after Hogwarts came up.

The issue was, since Justin died, Draco felt his mortality in a new way. In the back of his mind, he had always imagined that perhaps he could complete his "duties" in the short term, but at some point would be able to live the life he wanted. But such an opportunity wasn't guaranteed - and if he only had so much time to live, he didn't want to live it as that person.

But he currently didn't see any alternatives. For all of Hermione's rants on change, and finding a way to maintain the Malfoy legacy while allowing Draco to have the future he wanted, it simply didn't seem possible.