Getting There | By : cateatsburgers Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 2429 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no money off of this story. |
I suppose it all started, really, when the moth flew from Malfoy's sleeve.
That was remiss of me, to suddenly jump to the moth incident. Perhaps I'll backtrack a bit to allow you to acclimate to the situation. Set the tone of my anecdote, as it were.
We were all very young back then. Harry, Ron, myself. All the others, too: Neville, Ginny, Luna. Fred and George to an extent. We had no idea of what would become of us. We were in a system. A safe one, in which our parents and their parents before them had been successful. Or unsuccessful, in their small ways. But for the most part, a stable and ancient system in which we were to place our trust. And we did. Certainly, there were dangers. But life is danger. To live, in essence, is to die. And so we were not afraid at first. We were strong. Brave. Is that not what being in the noble house of Gryffindor is about? Bravery? Strength? Granted, not all of us were Gryffindors. There were more than a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in our ranks. Towards the end, a Slytherin or two.
Our bravery began to fade as things got worse. Our surety began to crumble. At first, the allowance of "mudblood" as an acceptable term. Then the rapid degeneration of our peers into laughing torturers. Jailors. Frequent talk of the Dark Lord. Lines drawn. Wands gripped tight. The horcruxes. The catalyst that sent us all to bloody hell. The abrupt end of our innocence. Sirius Black. Cedric Diggory. Amelia Bones. Emmeline Vance. Florean Fortescue. Mrs. Abbott. Albus Dumbledore. Colin Creevey. Vincent Crabbe. Hedwig. Alastor Moody. Rufus Scrimgeour. Dobby. Vincent Crabbe. Severus Snape. Fred Weasley. Nymphadora Tonks. Remus Lupin.
I tell you this so that you might understand. Please, don't think me self-absorbed, to blame my actions on the deaths of my friends. I don't. It has nothing to do with them. They were all good people. I can't imagine what the might've thought of me. Humbug. Slag. I know. I do.
Three months after the defeat of Voldemort. The acclaim had died down. I felt safe walking the streets with my only recognisable feature trained into a strict pony tail. There are many brunette witches.
It was on one of these incognito walks that I suddenly felt someone grab my arm. I immediately had my wand in my other hand, and spun around to stand nose-to-nose with the owner of said hand.
"Granger."
I wasn't shocked, per se. I was nervous. A bit startled. I hadn't seen Malfoy after the battle at Hogwarts. It was late. Dark. I hadn't any idea of what he wanted.
"I need to talk with you."
"About?" We'd never been close. I wasn't guilty in the slightest about being short with him. He seemed to share my disinclination for small talk.
"It's not for the street to hear. Perhaps..." He struggled. As much as I didn't wish to speak to the man, if he felt it important enough to seek me out, I didn't dare to write it off as stuff and nonsense.
"I live a short bit from here. Shall we?"
"Fine, then."
We walked quickly to my flat. I hung up my coat on the peg near the door, reached for his as he was leaning to hang it up himself. I bumped my hand sharply on his chest. He was very close. I almost cursed myself for not noticing.
"Sorry about that."
"Put a sock in it, Granger. I've more important things to talk about than your clumsiness."
"Pardon?"
"I told you to shut up."
I almost told him to leave, angry as I was. But he'd said he had something to speak to me about, and it was important.
"Are you going to get on with it, then?"
He straightened the lapels of his shirt. Starched. Pale green, of course, the proud little Slytherin still.
"Of course."
He looked over at my couch. I'd moved it from my parents' house. They were still somewhere in Australia; I wasn't entirely certain that it was safe for them yet in England.
Not seeing any other place to sit, he sighed and dusted off a cushion.
"There isn't any easy way to say this."
"You've strung it out long enough, Malfoy."
"Yes, well. I suppose." He picked imaginary lint from his shirtsleeve. "Look. I... I don't know if you know this, but Severus was my godfather."
"I didn't." It did explain why he'd always gotten good grades, better even than most of the Slytherins attending Snape's class. He was a hard taskmaster, that one.
"I need to bury him."
"What?" All this time, and he hadn't been buried? Certainly he must've begun to smell by now, and... Jokes aside, this was bad territory for me. Leading to thoughts of Lupin, Tonks. Fred. My friends, all in the ground.
"Not... Not like that. I haven't had a ceremony for him. There's been no one to tell me how, and Merlin, I never thought you'd be the one I asked."
"Certainly there's someone you'd prefer. Your mother, or... Goyle, Patsy?"
"I... No. There's no one." He hadn't been looking up for a while, but suddenly he turned his eyes to me. They were the same as I remembered them. Grey. It wasn't a common color, and it made them stand out. A cut above the rest. As all Malfoys were, if I were to believe what I was told.
And suddenly I realized. He truly didn't have anyone. After his betrayal, Draco Malfoy had lost most of his friends, and from the sound of it, his family ties were strained at best.
In the end, it was this that made me say what I did.
"Well. If you're that desperate, I suppose I can help you." And I smiled. As did he.
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