Divide et Impera | By : Nephiel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 4238 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Divide
et impera
:†:
Nephiel Nephilim
:†:
Parte Prima
Capitolo Tre ~ Rosa e
Spina
_____________________________________________________________
* * *
For me ‘tis silence, for thee ‘tis love,
But
this silent love ‘tis not for us
* * *
_____________________________________________________________
eleven months later…
As Hermione stepped out of the car a bright
sunray dived to reach her hoary irises whom ricocheted a lost . She knew why
she was there but she didn’t understand why. She was after all to enterprise an
English education so it was beyond her why she was in Milan’s countryside or
how she had learned to call it, periferia
di Milano.
“Miss Malfoy, you now have French lessons
with Madame de Courivaud and afterwards you will join la signorina Martinetti for…” Hermione turned her complete attention to
a young boy standing behind one of the villa’s windows. She wished it were
already night so that she could floo her father. It was her only distraction
from all her duties, to have long conversations with her father. Albeit it was
his fault if she was in Italy
alone, Hermione couldn’t really blame him. Lucius Malfoy wasn’t know for having
bad manners and since she was the only daughter of the illustrious minister, he
had resolved to give her the best lady education a witch could dream of. Sure,
she met quite some people, cousins included, but she was away from her home. It
was surprising how three months had tied her to the Malfoy manor so, and it was
even more incredible how much she had bonded with Draco. At the moment Hermione
would have given anything just to have an English bred boy to talk to, even
Blaise would have worked for her.
Hermione followed her tutor diligently and
silently but not because she respected the bloody bitch, no, never for respect.
She did it because that was what was expected from a Malfoy such as herself.
Hermione had by now memorised every detail of Madame de Courivaud’s villa. It
was very French in every decoration, no Italian décor transpired from its curtains
or chairs or walls. Lucius would have probably commented with his perfect
French and said les goûts
de Madame de Courivaud sons vraiment patriotiques. She was sure she could
walk directly to Madame’s room with blind eyes, but it wasn’t very wise to walk
into classes unprepared and so Hermione collected all her thoughts and
freshened her memories. ‘Bonjour Madame de
Courivaud, je suis heureuse de vous voir…’
"Miss Malfoy we have to wait, I’m
afraid we’re a tad bit early,” admitted the blushing woman. Hermione directed
her attention to the woman and glared at her and by so provoked an unpleasant
headache to the unpleasant woman whom being a squibb wasn’t able to stop
Hermione’s anger-induced jinx.
“Then I’ll be at the gardens,” came Hermione’s
curt response, ‘blasted wench, I knew it was too early when you woke me, after
all Martino doesn’t sing before eight o’clock precisely and when you marched
into my chamber the bird was still sleeping.’
“But Lady Malfoy!” came the woman’s desperate
call but it was too late for Hermione had already turned the corner.
A month prior - hawaii islands
Draco woke to
the chiming of his enchanted pillow…it was nine, ‘how nice,’ thought the blonde
as he fell over his blankets trying to get back to sleep. Night was the only
part of the day during which he didn’t feel her absence. Whoever said that eleven years was too early an age to
fall in love sure hadn’t met her at
the aforesaid age. Of course, being Draco Malfoy meant things were always
harder for him, in fact he had to withstand four months of her absence before
he could realise that he was in love with her. Oh, he did love her before that
but he had labelled his affections as those of a brother, when his wise cousin
Adrian had told him about the famous butterflies in the stomach sensation Draco
had to immediately re-evaluate his feelings towards Hermione. Surprisingly it
didn’t take long, many nights he had dreamt about her last words, although in
his dreams they withheld a different meaning. In his dreams she admitted to
being in love with him and not being able to live a life where she wouldn’t be
allowed to demonstrate her feelings towards him because of their sibling
relations.
In three months
he had come to know the first real person in his life. Like him, Hermione had
suffered the absence of a mother. Even though his had died and hers hadn’t.
Maybe, he had come to realise, it was less painful to have a dead unknown
mother than a living and uncaring one. To him, Hermione was beautiful in every
way, that was why he didn’t understand Narcissa’s excess of affection towards
him and the total absence of it towards her own blood. Strangely enough his
father had grown very attached to her, teaching his sister everything he had
taught him and, Draco suspected, more. His right hand reached the bridge of his
nose and massaged it, easing his over thoughtful mind.
The first months
had been hard without her, sleeping was the most difficult task for he had
become accustomed to her, crawling under his covers and caressing him to sleep
wile she sang magical songs. He suddenly felt stupid for the umpteenth time, he
had been so angry when she told him of her departure. He remembered it like it
was yesterday.
- flashback -
Draco was in the
potions room mixing a sleeping draught when she walked in wearing a long black
dress with fine brocade. She walked up to his table and leaned on it with her
hands.
“Buondì… is that nocturna?”
Draco lifted his
eyes to meet hers for a fractions of a second and then nodded his head in
response.
“What’s with the
Italian at eleven in the morning?” he asked feeling a strange vibe coming from
her.
“Don’t you like
it? Italian I mean,” she asked trying miserably to hide her apprehension. Draco
stilled for a moment and then answered with a question of his own.
“Did you come
here at this time of the morning to ask me that question?” joked Draco trying
to cheer her weird mood but when he noticed her determined expression he became
more serious, “I don’t mind it, why?”
“Draco, I’m
leaving, mother’s orders,” she said in one single breath fearing she might stop
and flee the room and his reaction.
Draco in the
other hand had barely registered anything after the word leaving, he didn’t even acknowledge the potion he was holding as it
slipped down and fell to the ground shattering into a million pieces, a navy
liquid invaded the floor spreading like the queer sensation inside of him…
equally obscure.
“What do you mean
leave? You can’t leave!” barked Draco as he surrendered to the angst that
surged from the pit of his stomach. Hermione however walked towards a stool
nearby, apparently unfazed by the tension that had filled the room, and sat on
it ignoring his reaction.
“Draco… don’t
complicate something that’s quite simple, besides, there’s nothing that can be
done to avoid it. As I already told you, it’s my mother’s orders,” explained
Hermione trying to make their goodbye the least painful possible.
“What about father?
If we tell him you’ll se that he’ll have something against it and you wont have
to leave,” reasoned Draco with new found hope. Hermione sighed and put her
hands on her face, she sighed in frustration.
“He…Draco, this
morning, before I went to look for you I found father in my bedroom. He was
sitting on a chaise beside my bed, when I first awoke he scared me out of my
mind, but then, after one of his usual speeches on ‘alertness’, he informed
about what him and mother have been planning for since the day I came to live
here. He said it’s all to my benefit so that when I come back from my one-year
stay in Italy I will be a very well educated pureblood witch. He calls it a
plus to my dowry, even though I don’t think it’s that nice, more degrading if you
ask me but what was I supposed to do except keep my tongue and obey?”
Draco stood
unmoving, “one year… she can’t do this to us! They can’t abandon us in a dreary
manor for a month, expect us to get along and when we finally do, tear us apart
for one blasted year! They just can’t!” he shouted making Hermione a bit
uncomfortable.
“Draco calm
down,” she tried to soothe his boiling temper.
“CALM DOWN?!
YOU’RE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN? HOW CAN YOU BE SO ACCEPTANT OF THIS
SITUATION?!” shrieked Draco losing what little bit of control he still had, he
pushed everything that stood on his way and marched up to her with blood-shot
eyes.
Hermione
whimpered silently and quickly dried the tear that fell from her left eye. She
mentally forced herself to remain composed. She had to be strong enough for
them both or she just knew that Narcissa would punish him too for her faults.
“Draco I
honestly don’t understand why you’re overreacting like this, for Mab’s sake
it’s only a year!” she tried to reason with him without making it blatant that
she was scared shitless.
“AND IT DOESN’T
HURT YOU INSIDE TO KNOW WE’LL BE SO FAR AWAY, WITHOUT EACH OTHER’S COMFORT!” he
burst into a ragged breathing, “what are you not telling me Hermione?” he had
felt something queer coming from her and finally he was able to put a finger to
it, she wasn’t in angst… she was hiding something, something that had nothing
to do with the news of her departure.
“I think it
would be best if I left, I’m sorry Draco,” Hermione admitted knowing that it
was only half of what she was hiding. She bowed her head and looked at her
shoes in rapture. To her it was merely an action of surrender but to Draco it
was a sign of cowardice. To him, she feared his reaction because she couldn’t
understand it and it’s intensity. Now if he would have been a little bit more
calm he could have even understood this reaction and comforted her but
circumstances being what they were he could only muster loathing for her
weakness.
“So that’s why
you’re accepting their orders without a fight,” he felt anger surge from his
blistered trust-bone, she had managed to grasp his trust and hurt it in less
than a year, accomplishment that he had to admit no one else was able to claim.
Not even his father.
Hermione wasn’t
sure why he hadn’t exploded yet, maybe he had taken it better than she had
assumed… or maybe hell froze over and he was just in shock. She herself didn’t
know how she would take it if Draco came to her and told her that he needed
some away time from her. Unfortunately for the both of them Draco wasn’t
exactly clear minded and only saw halfway through her mask.
“You’re scared
of what we have. I must admit that this cowering side of yours disappoints me
as much as it catches me off guard, I never knew you could be such a spineless-“
but he never got to finish his line of thought because Hermione all of a sudden
burst in anger.
‘How dare he?
Sure I’m faking this façade for him but not even hate-blinded would I ever degrade
him… and if I wouldn’t, then why is he doing it?!’ thought Hermione affronted.
“What’s there to fight for? What
unmentionable tasks are we to act? This isn’t some Greek tragedy! we’re no
bloody heroes in search of a bloody battle
of beliefs! We’re bloody ten years old!” screeched Hermione igniting, unbeknownst
to her, Draco’s fury.
“Don’t you pull the defenceless victim card
on me Hermione, if you’re too scared to do it then at least support me while I
fight for us INSTEAD OF BEING SO BLODDY SUBMISSIVE!” he yelled at her hitting the books she
was holding, off her hands. After his outburst he was able to catch, albeit for
only a mere instance, a glimpse of loss radiating from Hermione’s eyes.
Hermione didn’t
know what to say to make Draco give up on her, it had hurt to hear the truth,
she was indeed scared but not of her and Draco, she was scared of what her
mother might do to him if she didn’t submit wordlessly.
“I won’t disobey
my mother, my blood! Draco you’re not my bro-”
Draco who had
had his back turned to her suddenly swirled around and slapped her hard on the
face, knocking her on a table. A murky silence befell the room as the
white-blonde boy looked from his hand to his sister’s red cheek, her head was
inclined slightly in the position a slapped face should be, her hair covered
her eyes but he could distinctly make out her ragged breathing, a seething
breath. His imprint was forming a red handprint on her right cheek. Then
realisation hit him like a brick wall. He had hurt her because she had hurt
him, she had used words and he actions, he had done the very thing he had
promised himself and her never to do. He had reacted like his father would have
in such a situation. He detested himself every second more but he also knew
that nothing he said would excuse his action and surely no words would ever
make her forget what he had done to her. Draco had to admit that if Hermione
had blistered his trust for her, he had shattered the trust she held for him.
He was supposed to be the only one to make her feel ok and safe from the
atrociously cruel world that they had learned to live in. They were supposed to
be each other’s haven. He wanted to cry so much in anger… for himself this
time. However before he could gain the courage to speak she had done so
herself, the words echoed in his head, cold words that froze his world.
Acknowledging that he had hurt the one person he proclaimed to love Draco
slumped on a sofa.
“Is this what
you want to fight for? Let it go Draco. You can call me a coward if you want,”
she said walking towards the exit where she stopped only to say, “but you can’t
call yourself my brother,” and with that she left.
Draco who had
been silently sobbing and holding his stinging right hand spoke his vow to
Hermione’s retreating form, a vow he had every intention of keeping even to his
grave and beyond.
“No Hermione,
you’re my sister and I’m your brother… forever,” and he broke down crying his
anger away. That night Draco Malfoy cried because he had thrown away a sister,
a relative, the only one he loved, his only breech to what his grandfather had
so many times told him was the golden rule for a Malfoy. Don’t care because caring brings pain and pain makes you cry and THAT
is a weakness no man should express.
- end flashback -
Now that she was
gone and he had cooled down he had time to see things in the right prospective.
He had to acknowledge the fact that she might never want to see him again. The
first months he had waited for a letter in which she would forgive him and by
so make things go back to how they were before their argument.
She hadn’t owled
one single word.
Lucius and Narcissa hadn’t told him anything and
he hadn’t asked. From what he could hear here and there, Hermione was doing
fine, actually it seemed that a ‘signorina’ something was quite pleased with
‘Miss Malfoy’s’ progresses.
Other than
laying around in the manor between his tutoring, Draco spent a lot of time with
Narcissa in her society parties. He had met a girl his age, a certain Agnes
Carlisle who had immediately taken a liking to him, too bad he hadn’t.
Thankfully he was able to evade Narcissa’s partying, his tutoring, his father
and Carlisle with a long trip to a much more
tropical climate. He had wished to go to Italy,
even Sicily
would have been alright, just to have a bigger chance to meet Hermione and make
amends with her but then again if he had walked up to his parents requesting
permission to go there it might have been a bit too obvious. He was sure of one
thing though, it seemed that his parents, or more likely his mother, wasn’t
very happy with his and Hermione’s bond. Now that he had more time to analyze
Narcissa, Draco was able to pick up on things that he had never noticed before.
Like his unreasonable dislike of her own daughter.
Here he was, in
Magical Jamaica…
how sweat.
Braeden Morgan
suddenly busted into the room wearing khaki shorts with a white shirt.
“Really Draco,
it’s already nine! What are you doing still in bed?” squealed a very active
Braeden.
“Morgan, I have come
here to find peace from England’s
chaotic high society,” explained Draco while Braeden rummaged in Draco’s
drawers, “B, mate, what are you doing?” asked Draco now sitting on the edge of
his bed. Soon enough Braeden peeked his head out of the closet baring a navy Bermuda and a white plain shirt.
“Why, choosing
your daily attire since apparently you aren’t even capable of getting out of
bed on your own,” explained Braeden merrily and in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I’m not going
to be able to convince you to leave me alone are my?” asked Draco with a smirk.
“I see you’re a
brilliant observer, come on and hurry getting dressed, I’ll be waiting at the
bar with Crabbe and Goyle. In two weeks time we’ll be flung into Hogwarts,
might as well enjoy the free time we have left!” explained Braeden as he walked
out of the hotel room. As soon as Braeden had finished speaking, Draco realised
that soon he would see her again and he couldn’t help but wonder how much she
had changed during the last eleven months he hadn’t seen or heard from her.
ELSEWHERE IN ANOTHER TIME AND SPACE
“HOW COULD
YOU?!” bellowed the male figure as he walked up and down the chamber. He had
long-straight white-blond hair with, silver-white eyes, he was abnormally tall
and he had crystal like wings that adorned his back .
“Calm down or
else I’ll never allow you to see it,” threatened the woman figure as she flew
to her bed of petals.
Walking away
with anger the figure halted only a second before soaring into the air
screaming his threat to her.
“I’ll find my
child and when I do you will pay for what you’ve put it through for all these
years!!” as soon as he was gone the enchanting woman sighed and closed her
eyes.
“Do you really
think I’d put our child through all this without a reason?” she sighed in
frustration before letting one single tear fall on the petals that surrounded
her.
* * *
* * * * * *
* * *
Fine Capitolo Tre
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