Three years after the war finds Draco Malfoy imprisoned in Azkaban. He's had no trial and no official sentence, just the cold cruelty of Azkaban that is hell-bent on breaking him. Until he's given a choice. A choice he'd be stupid not to take.

It was the third time this week that he'd lost his temper with her resulting in the current state of the flat. Their sanctuary. It was virtually unrecognizable, so unlike the cosy space that she had painstakingly cultivated. And for what? Because she was going to lunch with Ronald Weasley. Again. A drabble inspired by when the party's over by Billie Eilish

He was conflicted. Everything in him told him above all else, he should place himself. His childhood, his house, his heritage but then she'd never fit the mould.

He'd always been aware of her. Always seemed to watch her. Always wanted her. She never seemed to notice.

Hermione Granger's life has always had a way of attracting trouble. Her 7th Year at Hogwarts would be no different, poltergeists, ghosts, murderous madmen, Malfoys. Let the games begin.