For Hermione
Over a year in Darrow, and Draco continued to resolutely avoid settling down, in any real way. He'd learned to exist on meager Muggle funds, subsidizing his lifestyle with magic, when possible. It perhaps wasn't the most moral of choices, but Draco had never particularly cared for those types of rules. He wasn't stealing money, but if he could magic a solution to problems for which Muggles might've only had their money to save them, he certainly wasn't going to hold back.
However, there was still one problem he'd yet to solve: Boredom.
It was a constant, creeping pit in his chest, this feeling of listless uselessness. This life without purpose or identity. He didn't even have any real rivalries anymore. He didn't even have any hatred to pour his energy into.
It was pathetic. It needed to stop.
That afternoon, he found himself at the Lamplight. Once, Granger was a bitter enemy, but on the island, she'd become a voice of reason. A person to speak to, when he needed advice. And the sad truth was, in this place, he didn't have anyone else to turn to.
However, there was still one problem he'd yet to solve: Boredom.
It was a constant, creeping pit in his chest, this feeling of listless uselessness. This life without purpose or identity. He didn't even have any real rivalries anymore. He didn't even have any hatred to pour his energy into.
It was pathetic. It needed to stop.
That afternoon, he found himself at the Lamplight. Once, Granger was a bitter enemy, but on the island, she'd become a voice of reason. A person to speak to, when he needed advice. And the sad truth was, in this place, he didn't have anyone else to turn to.