Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ After the End ❯ Floo me to my memories... ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Odi et amo 
Hermione sneaks away to Malfoy Manor, where an anxious Draco waits...
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 07.30.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 672 | Status: Work In Progress
Hermione sneaks away to Malfoy Manor, where an anxious Draco waits...
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 07.30.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 672 | Status: Work In Progress
Draco paced in agitation the moment he arrived home.
Why did he do that?
What on earth had possessed him?
He had invited a former enemy into his home. He was actually having emotions other than hate and jealousy towards her. He felt sorry for her, and he felt empathy. He had thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in that alleyway before recognizing her, and now he was feeling a mixture of trepidation and anxiousness towards her visit tomorrow.
He wanted to see her.
He wanted to hold her.
And he wanted to give pothead potter and the weasel a good slug or two for lying to their best bloody friend for four bloody years!!!
How could anyone humanly keep someone they supposedly love in the dark for so long? How could they keep her own name from her without feeling a twinge of remorse?
This was the one reason Draco was grateful he had no friends. Pansy has only wanted him for his money, and to be honest, he hadnn't minded the easy fuck the little whore gave. She was just as treacherous as Blaise though, and he regreatted even knowing her for the time he had. Blaise...Blaise had revealed to Voldemort that Draco had turned spy, right before the end of the war. He had spent those last two months in hiding, unwilling to do even the smallest spell for fear that Voldemort would track him down. He still wasn't sure how Blaise had ever found out, and truth be told, he didn't care.
Grabbe and Goyle had died in battle, prefering to remain loyal to Voldemort and help try to kill him when he was revealed as a traitor. Blaise was now in Azkaban, a hollow shell of the man he had been thanks to the dementors kiss, Snape was there, Pansy was there, in fact nearly every childhood friend, or long-known family friend was in there. His father was dead now, his mother in Azkaban.
But he didn't mind the loneliness. It was better than constantly watching your back for fear of having someone avada you for breathing wrong. It was better than being tortured for giving a sympathetic face to a muggle family they were currently torturing, it was better than his entire life even. Hie heart still ached from misery, but it wasn't as strong.
He was lonely, but he was happy.
And maybe Granger was lonely too. Maybe she was tired of being betrayed as well.
Maybe she wouldn't hate him.
For all his faults, Draco Malfoy was a good person. At least he thought so. He had donated nearly half his fortune to the PWRS, or Post War Ressurection Society. They had rebuilt houses, donated to families so they could bury their lost loved ones, and slowly begun to change a few of the wronger laws for the wizarding world.
Right now, if you were in school and above the age of sixteen, you could perform simple spells at home for your convienence. Right now, lands that Centuars lived on were banned from being industrialized in any manner, and building homes or any sort of building was forbidden. Firenze had loved that. Half-giants could go to wizarding schools if they possessed magical powers, as could anything that was a half-blood. Life had become better, more peaceful, and he had helped in his own way.
His fortune would still last at least five generations easily, if not more.
Draco looked up at the grandfather clock as it chimed only once. He had been in the library for the past three hours, stuck in thoughts about Granger, his past and the magical world in general. Suddenly he was aware that he was actually tired. Bone weary as a matter of fact.
He went up to his room and sat down on his bed after removing his robes, shoes, shirt, pants and belt. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, now mid-back length white-blond hair falling around his face.
What on earth had possessed him?
oooooooooo (Did anyone else pronounce PWRS as "powers", because I did...and then I thought of Austin Powers...)
Hermione tried to appear calm the next day. She hadn't said a word of truth to Harry about who it was she had been talking to, opting instead to say that she had tripped and he was helping her up. When he asked why he had been kneeling she laughed it off and said that he had dropped his umbrella in shock when she fell down.
He had twisted his mouth in a manner that said he didn't believe a word of it, but didn't press further.
The rest of the night had spent at the Weasleys, listening to Molly rant about Fred an George because they had designed a type of candy that made you literally sprout wings for about ten minutes. Apparently Ginny had tried one and had fallen ten feet after her wings abruptly dissapeared.
Hermione's first though had been, to her shame "Serves her right, the lying little bitch..." After that she went to her room and collapsed from exhaustion. Her little break-down in the alleyway had made her tired, even though her mind was whirring with the facts that had been revealed to her.
Her full name for one.
That there was a person out there who wasn't connected to Harry or Ron in a friendly manner who knew her, for another.
And so the morning she woke up the suspense and anxiousness from needing to see him that day had caused her to drop her milk at breakfast, accidentally put her shirt on inside out and backwards, nearly trip down the stairs and a number of other mishaps. All of which happened the moment she thought of him and how she was finally going to know who she really was.
Fuck St, Mungo's. Hermione Jane Granger refused their orders to keep her in the dark! And Draco Malfoy of Malfoy Manor was going to be her light!
For the first time in four years, she was relieved.
After lunch everyone began taking their leave, and Hermione decided she would too. But she wasn't going to apparate. In her mind, anyone who had a home with their last name having the word "Manor" would logically have defenses against apparating on the ground. Manor was such a snobbish word after all, and most snobs tended to hate visitors.
So she flooed. It took her nearly an hour to get the fireplace to herself, and she stepped in with enough time to say "Malfoy Manor" right before Molly stepped back into the room.
Thankfully she didn't hear Hermione's words.
oooooooooo
He was pacing again. An irritating but useful habit that bespoke of how much he wanted to see her.
He had been in front of the fireplace for nearly three hours now, just pacing. Lunch had been an assortment of small sandwiches the house elves had made him for fear he would starve himself again. Yes, again. But it only happened for maybe one or two days at a time, and it was only when he was too depressed and lost in the past to think straight, let alone take care of himself.
So they needn't worry. After all, Tipsy had been there when he dresses, picking up outfit after outfit and putting it away after he flung it to the ground with muttered words that fell alnong the lines of "No...not good enough....too pompous...don't want to look like I'm trying...maybe this...no..no...She never liked that color..." as well as numerous other things until he finally decided on a pair of black hessian boots, black slacks tucked into said boots, a dark gray dress shirt, black tie, and black robes with lime green lining.
He looked very victorian, if he said so himself. And Granger had always liked victorian era men's clothing.
So he tied his hair back towards the nape of his neck in the manner of nearl 150 years ago, and made sure not a hair was out of place, that he had shaved, brushed, not gotten dust on him, etc...
To say he was nervous was an understatement.
So when the fireplace popped and she stepped out, looking for all the world as if she had merely pulled on whatever she say first, he felt a bit embarrassed at his enthusiasm.
He didn't know she had changed five times after her realization that her shirt was on wrong, and that it was too casual. After all, who wears a t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it to rediscover their past?
She looked up and their eyes caught and held each others for a long moment. She suddenly remembered her surroundings when the door opened with a house elf holding a plate of mini-sandwiches and caused her to look over. The elf froze in his tracks and looked first at her, then at his master, then at her, then finally to his master.
"Is Master Malfoy wanting Tipsy to bring the master and his misses some drinks sir?" He squeeked out, running into the room to set the new plate on the coffee table and to take the old plate away. He looked up inquiringly. Draco looked at Hermione, whose eyes had gotten wide and was staring at the house elf as though amazed. He coughed and she visibly shook herself out of her daze.
"Oh um...butterbeer or tea...I think I had enough alcohol last night to last me the month." She said, her voice sounding very far away.
Draco nodded at Tipsy, who scurried out of the room. Hermione spoke again.
"You want to know something funny? I've always wanted to start a little society dedicated to freeing house elves and giving them rights. Ron and Harry have always told me that with all the new changes in the wizarding world, it was only a matter of time before the a law was passed freeing them." She looked back up at them.
"I always imagined a name like the Society for..."
"..the Promotion of Elven Welfare?"
"....Yes. How did you?"
"You've already done it."
He waved a hand indicating her to sit where she pleased. He did so after her, choosing to face her from the chair on the other side of the fireplace. Flames flickered over her confused features as Tipsy came back in with the drinks. Draco whispered something Hermione didn't catch to the elf, and he dashed off again, only to return with a little round object. Draco handed it to her.
She looked it over, turning it im her hands with an expression of amazed sorrow on her face. It was a badge with the name of her society on the front, as well as the words " The House Elf Liberation Front" at the bottom. She looked back up at him.
"I believe the Weasel is the one who came up with the other name. After all, your original name had an acronym spelled S-P-E-W, or as it would be pronounced, spew." She gave a harsh laugh.
"Did it fail?" She asked, looking anxious. He shook his head no, and she sighed, relaxing a little more in her chair.
"It was abandoned with the War."
oooooooooo
So...the next chapter will be more in depth, with Draco pretty much telling Hermione of her past, but from his point of view.
For all of those of you wondering why he's being so OOC, keep in mind this is four years later. They're both twenty-two at this point, and Draco is pretty much weary of life. He has lost all resentment he felt towards muggles and muggleborns, as well as pretty much any real will to live. His life was horrid, and now...he's just weary of living. He merely exists because he's the last Malfoy left who isn't dead or in Azkaban. The only left at this point is to produce an heir, leave a will, and die.
Which is a feeling I identify with. I think I understand him more than I do Hermione....
But yeah....read and review!!! Please?!?!?!?!?! ^.^
Why did he do that?
What on earth had possessed him?
He had invited a former enemy into his home. He was actually having emotions other than hate and jealousy towards her. He felt sorry for her, and he felt empathy. He had thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in that alleyway before recognizing her, and now he was feeling a mixture of trepidation and anxiousness towards her visit tomorrow.
He wanted to see her.
He wanted to hold her.
And he wanted to give pothead potter and the weasel a good slug or two for lying to their best bloody friend for four bloody years!!!
How could anyone humanly keep someone they supposedly love in the dark for so long? How could they keep her own name from her without feeling a twinge of remorse?
This was the one reason Draco was grateful he had no friends. Pansy has only wanted him for his money, and to be honest, he hadnn't minded the easy fuck the little whore gave. She was just as treacherous as Blaise though, and he regreatted even knowing her for the time he had. Blaise...Blaise had revealed to Voldemort that Draco had turned spy, right before the end of the war. He had spent those last two months in hiding, unwilling to do even the smallest spell for fear that Voldemort would track him down. He still wasn't sure how Blaise had ever found out, and truth be told, he didn't care.
Grabbe and Goyle had died in battle, prefering to remain loyal to Voldemort and help try to kill him when he was revealed as a traitor. Blaise was now in Azkaban, a hollow shell of the man he had been thanks to the dementors kiss, Snape was there, Pansy was there, in fact nearly every childhood friend, or long-known family friend was in there. His father was dead now, his mother in Azkaban.
But he didn't mind the loneliness. It was better than constantly watching your back for fear of having someone avada you for breathing wrong. It was better than being tortured for giving a sympathetic face to a muggle family they were currently torturing, it was better than his entire life even. Hie heart still ached from misery, but it wasn't as strong.
He was lonely, but he was happy.
And maybe Granger was lonely too. Maybe she was tired of being betrayed as well.
Maybe she wouldn't hate him.
For all his faults, Draco Malfoy was a good person. At least he thought so. He had donated nearly half his fortune to the PWRS, or Post War Ressurection Society. They had rebuilt houses, donated to families so they could bury their lost loved ones, and slowly begun to change a few of the wronger laws for the wizarding world.
Right now, if you were in school and above the age of sixteen, you could perform simple spells at home for your convienence. Right now, lands that Centuars lived on were banned from being industrialized in any manner, and building homes or any sort of building was forbidden. Firenze had loved that. Half-giants could go to wizarding schools if they possessed magical powers, as could anything that was a half-blood. Life had become better, more peaceful, and he had helped in his own way.
His fortune would still last at least five generations easily, if not more.
Draco looked up at the grandfather clock as it chimed only once. He had been in the library for the past three hours, stuck in thoughts about Granger, his past and the magical world in general. Suddenly he was aware that he was actually tired. Bone weary as a matter of fact.
He went up to his room and sat down on his bed after removing his robes, shoes, shirt, pants and belt. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, now mid-back length white-blond hair falling around his face.
What on earth had possessed him?
oooooooooo (Did anyone else pronounce PWRS as "powers", because I did...and then I thought of Austin Powers...)
Hermione tried to appear calm the next day. She hadn't said a word of truth to Harry about who it was she had been talking to, opting instead to say that she had tripped and he was helping her up. When he asked why he had been kneeling she laughed it off and said that he had dropped his umbrella in shock when she fell down.
He had twisted his mouth in a manner that said he didn't believe a word of it, but didn't press further.
The rest of the night had spent at the Weasleys, listening to Molly rant about Fred an George because they had designed a type of candy that made you literally sprout wings for about ten minutes. Apparently Ginny had tried one and had fallen ten feet after her wings abruptly dissapeared.
Hermione's first though had been, to her shame "Serves her right, the lying little bitch..." After that she went to her room and collapsed from exhaustion. Her little break-down in the alleyway had made her tired, even though her mind was whirring with the facts that had been revealed to her.
Her full name for one.
That there was a person out there who wasn't connected to Harry or Ron in a friendly manner who knew her, for another.
And so the morning she woke up the suspense and anxiousness from needing to see him that day had caused her to drop her milk at breakfast, accidentally put her shirt on inside out and backwards, nearly trip down the stairs and a number of other mishaps. All of which happened the moment she thought of him and how she was finally going to know who she really was.
Fuck St, Mungo's. Hermione Jane Granger refused their orders to keep her in the dark! And Draco Malfoy of Malfoy Manor was going to be her light!
For the first time in four years, she was relieved.
After lunch everyone began taking their leave, and Hermione decided she would too. But she wasn't going to apparate. In her mind, anyone who had a home with their last name having the word "Manor" would logically have defenses against apparating on the ground. Manor was such a snobbish word after all, and most snobs tended to hate visitors.
So she flooed. It took her nearly an hour to get the fireplace to herself, and she stepped in with enough time to say "Malfoy Manor" right before Molly stepped back into the room.
Thankfully she didn't hear Hermione's words.
oooooooooo
He was pacing again. An irritating but useful habit that bespoke of how much he wanted to see her.
He had been in front of the fireplace for nearly three hours now, just pacing. Lunch had been an assortment of small sandwiches the house elves had made him for fear he would starve himself again. Yes, again. But it only happened for maybe one or two days at a time, and it was only when he was too depressed and lost in the past to think straight, let alone take care of himself.
So they needn't worry. After all, Tipsy had been there when he dresses, picking up outfit after outfit and putting it away after he flung it to the ground with muttered words that fell alnong the lines of "No...not good enough....too pompous...don't want to look like I'm trying...maybe this...no..no...She never liked that color..." as well as numerous other things until he finally decided on a pair of black hessian boots, black slacks tucked into said boots, a dark gray dress shirt, black tie, and black robes with lime green lining.
He looked very victorian, if he said so himself. And Granger had always liked victorian era men's clothing.
So he tied his hair back towards the nape of his neck in the manner of nearl 150 years ago, and made sure not a hair was out of place, that he had shaved, brushed, not gotten dust on him, etc...
To say he was nervous was an understatement.
So when the fireplace popped and she stepped out, looking for all the world as if she had merely pulled on whatever she say first, he felt a bit embarrassed at his enthusiasm.
He didn't know she had changed five times after her realization that her shirt was on wrong, and that it was too casual. After all, who wears a t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it to rediscover their past?
She looked up and their eyes caught and held each others for a long moment. She suddenly remembered her surroundings when the door opened with a house elf holding a plate of mini-sandwiches and caused her to look over. The elf froze in his tracks and looked first at her, then at his master, then at her, then finally to his master.
"Is Master Malfoy wanting Tipsy to bring the master and his misses some drinks sir?" He squeeked out, running into the room to set the new plate on the coffee table and to take the old plate away. He looked up inquiringly. Draco looked at Hermione, whose eyes had gotten wide and was staring at the house elf as though amazed. He coughed and she visibly shook herself out of her daze.
"Oh um...butterbeer or tea...I think I had enough alcohol last night to last me the month." She said, her voice sounding very far away.
Draco nodded at Tipsy, who scurried out of the room. Hermione spoke again.
"You want to know something funny? I've always wanted to start a little society dedicated to freeing house elves and giving them rights. Ron and Harry have always told me that with all the new changes in the wizarding world, it was only a matter of time before the a law was passed freeing them." She looked back up at them.
"I always imagined a name like the Society for..."
"..the Promotion of Elven Welfare?"
"....Yes. How did you?"
"You've already done it."
He waved a hand indicating her to sit where she pleased. He did so after her, choosing to face her from the chair on the other side of the fireplace. Flames flickered over her confused features as Tipsy came back in with the drinks. Draco whispered something Hermione didn't catch to the elf, and he dashed off again, only to return with a little round object. Draco handed it to her.
She looked it over, turning it im her hands with an expression of amazed sorrow on her face. It was a badge with the name of her society on the front, as well as the words " The House Elf Liberation Front" at the bottom. She looked back up at him.
"I believe the Weasel is the one who came up with the other name. After all, your original name had an acronym spelled S-P-E-W, or as it would be pronounced, spew." She gave a harsh laugh.
"Did it fail?" She asked, looking anxious. He shook his head no, and she sighed, relaxing a little more in her chair.
"It was abandoned with the War."
oooooooooo
So...the next chapter will be more in depth, with Draco pretty much telling Hermione of her past, but from his point of view.
For all of those of you wondering why he's being so OOC, keep in mind this is four years later. They're both twenty-two at this point, and Draco is pretty much weary of life. He has lost all resentment he felt towards muggles and muggleborns, as well as pretty much any real will to live. His life was horrid, and now...he's just weary of living. He merely exists because he's the last Malfoy left who isn't dead or in Azkaban. The only left at this point is to produce an heir, leave a will, and die.
Which is a feeling I identify with. I think I understand him more than I do Hermione....
But yeah....read and review!!! Please?!?!?!?!?! ^.^