Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ After the End ❯ Candid Conversations ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Odi et amo 
Draco and Hermione have a little heart to heart...
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.02.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 655 | Status: Work In Progress
Draco and Hermione have a little heart to heart...
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.02.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 655 | Status: Work In Progress
"It was abandoned with the War."
Hermione blinked. So...it hadn't failed...but it didn't really exist anymore? And the war.... She knew from vaque descriptions that some man named Voldemort tried to take over the wizarding world and Harry had killed him, but there were no details other than that. In truth, it sounded more like a theory for a book than a true life story. But she had seen the aftermath. She remembered waking up only to have to visit a series of funerals and ceremonies held in honor of the dead. She knew that laws were being changed.
The past four years were not a mystery to her. They were a series of precious memories and nightmares.
She looked at Draco.
"Start at the beginning."
A sigh fell from his lips, and his voice came out as a dream, a faraway look in his eyes.
"When you and I first met, we were enemies. But not because of you alone. It was who you were with."
"Who?"
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived and his blood traitor friend, Ronald Weasley. Although at the time you were merely friendly aquaintences. I tried to make my friends, in my usual manner of insulting those around him, then holding out a hand to shake. You were near him at that time. We were eleven. It was our first year at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
He gave her a funny look. Did she seriously not remember the name of the school they had gone to? Did those bastards actually keep it from her? He cursed silently in his head, although his expression never changed.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am a pureblood Granger, you were a muggle born. That is, my parents possessed magical powers whereas yours did not. If I remember correctly they're both dentists, by the names of Alex and Janet Granger. You were born to them sometime in late september."
Hermione gave him a funny look. For someone who was her supposed enemy he seemed to know a lot about her.
"Our contact was limited. Me verbally abusing you in the halls, you threatening to hex me everytime I called you a mudblood, my father cursing at me averytime you beat me in a subject...lots of things, but limited. In class we ignored each unless we were about half a rows distance from each other. Then we tried to make each others life hell. I actually enjoyed irritating you Granger."
"Call me Hermione. As much as I like knowing what my last name is, I do think that under the circumstances we could be on a first name basis." She cut in, a small smile on her lips. Draco nodded.
"As you wish. Call me Draco as well. I hate being known by my last name all the time."
She gave a light chuckle.
"Anyways...in third year you punched me, straight in the nose. It was the whole mudblood comment again. After that, because I know you're curious, I took an interest in finding everything about you that I could. I know you were homeschooled until Hogwarts, I know that you got a toothbrush and paste every year for christmas from your parents, as well as some muggle books, I know that need to know everything, and end up reading for hours if you find something too fascinating to put down, and that you did your homework and then let pothead potter and the weasel copy off of you. More than that even.
"I did it because I was looking for ammunition to harm you more, but I never really used it. You were too normal, except for your bookish ways and the muggle heritage. So I gave up.
" Fourht year was the triwizard tournament. That year you started dating Viktor Krum, the bulgerian seeker of the Chudley Cannons, and blackmailed Rita Skeeter. A fact that you and your friends were supposed to be the only ones to know, but I have ways of finding out things. Oh, and you somehow managed to straighten your hair for the yule ball, as well as find a dress that was decent. I didn't recognize you at first. To be honest, until I did recognize you, I was going to ask you out. Then I was repulsed by the very thought the moment your name popped up in my mind."
She gave him a funny look. Was that a compliment or an insult? He called her pretty then denounced it based on her heritage. Her eyebrows rose and she looked at him inquiringly. He glared at her for a second, then returned to his story.
"After that, in fifth year, Voldemort, aka Tom Marvolo Riddle returned. So I was forced to become a death eater, work for Voldemort, and begin my career in servitude to a man I had been raised to be in awe of, but learned to hate because he wasn't exactly the smartest, or most humane guy around. He wasn't even a pureblood, and yet he said all muggles and muggleborns were useless. So I guess he was basically proclaiming himself to be trash. But it was in sixth year that I left Hogwarts, helped kill Dumbledore, the headmaster at the time, and...well... that part of life is secret. You left Hogwarts as well, to help Potty and Weasel and the Order of the Pheonix, to hunt down Voldemort. The rest of your life is unknown to me until the final battle.
"....There....I believe that it's there that you lost your memories. You were aiming a hex at one of the Death eaters, stupify I believe, when he shouted expelliarmus, and the spell was sent back to you, slamming into you and forcing you to the ground. From what I know you cut yourself on your head somewhere, and didn't wake up until two days later. I know this because while you were busy fighting, I had run off after doing...things...and had taken a knife to my arm to skin the dark mark off of me.
"While I was busy ripping off the last of the flesh where the mark was, I looked up and saw you aim that spell. I fainted from the bloodloss shortly after you fell."
He looked up from the half empty butterbeer he had taken to staring at and gave a rueful smile.
"Someone healed my arm for me, and left a small scar. When I was tried as a death eater they pulled up my arm and saw nothing."
"I was there." She said softly. looking up. "Harry and Ron dragged me to all the trials, and I did see you then. But your hair was shorter, dirtier, and your robes were mussed from the cell."
"Indeed."
He looked up at the clock, then quickly downed the rest of his butterbeer. She looked as well, and gasped when she saw the time. It was nearly six! Ron would be at her apartment any minute to take her to the Weasley home for dinner with tha family. it was tradition that they do so every saturday! She looked at Draco, her eyes panicked.
"I have to go. I don't want them to worry about..."
"Go then. But do me one favor?"
She nodded.
"Return sometime. I'm bored here. There's nothing to do but spend money I don't want to spend, or read books I've read before."
She nodded again, then grabbed a handful of floo powder from the desk next to the fire. She stepped in and gave him a fond wave goodbye. He gave a small bow.
"Fourteen fifteen West Summit lane, apartment 2!"
And then she was gone.
oooooooooo
When she arrived there was someone sitting on her couch. One glace at the bright red hair alerted that it was Ron, and one pop from the fireplace with her arrival alerted him that she was home. He looked over, a frown on his still boyishly handsome features.
"Where have you been?" He asked, standing and coming over to her. She placed her purse on the counter and walked over to the bathroom to grab her brush.
"Library." She answered. He walked in behind her and leaned against the wall, his tall frame still towering over hers.
"The library is a block away, and it is a muggle building devoid of a fireplace. I doubt you could have flooed from there. And if you did go, why don't you have any books with you?"
"So it's an interrogation now is it? Fine. I'll be honest. I wasn't home."
"Obviously."
"But my business is my own, and you have no need to know where I was." She said calmly, deciding that for once, she wasn't going to answer to him or Harry all the time. Her movements didn't need to be monitered, and Ron and Harry didn't need to protect her.
Before she could listen to anymore questions as to her whereabouts she finished putting her hair in a bun and walked over to her fireplace. She grabbed another handful of floo powder and stepped in. His stunned and slightly angry face dissapeared as the green flames overwhelmed her.
oooooooooo
The moment she dissapeared Draco flung his empty glass against the wall.
Damn it all! Bloody damn it all ti the ninth hell and beyond!!! Why was he actually inviting her here? More than once! He had told her as much as he was willing to, and that was all she needed to know. He held no obligation to her, no honorable need to let her out of the dark. His excuse was poorhearted in inane.
Bored here?
No. He was bored here, but he didn't need the company of that...of that...
His shoulders slumped.
Mudblood.
And yet it didn't seem to matter. She was company that he got along with, and at least she had intelligence. Unlike most of the other people he knew. Or used to know. But maybe that was his problem. He should be in azkaban for his crimes, along with the other pureblooded bastards who thought their names were worth more than a persons life. He hadn't thought that way in a ling time now, but it had been true at one point. It had been true for the greater part of his life, or so he had been led to believe by his father.
He sneered.
His father deserved what he got and worse, and his mother had been no better. In fact every Black/Malfoy on the planet, other than Nymphadora Lupin and the now departed Sirius had been a bunch of self-serving, sneering, cruel, and utterly worthless bastards. They were foul.
He sat down again and leaned his head back until he was staring at the celing.
Gray.
Such a good color. It was the color that defined life. There was no black and white, only shades of gray. There was the grayness of his misery, the utter apathy that encompassed his life. The gray of war, that moment after the blood has been spilled and it was all over, when every moment was less reality and more of a bitter dream.
His eyes closed against all the grayness and he gave a sigh.
For the third time that week, Draco Malfoy, last of the Malfoy line, contemplated suicide.
oooooooooo
Yay! Another chapter! One with a lot of conversation, which was really odd to write but seeing as he had some explaining to do, yeah.... Draco officially talks a lot. ::nods::
Anyways, you know the drill, read and review!
Hermione blinked. So...it hadn't failed...but it didn't really exist anymore? And the war.... She knew from vaque descriptions that some man named Voldemort tried to take over the wizarding world and Harry had killed him, but there were no details other than that. In truth, it sounded more like a theory for a book than a true life story. But she had seen the aftermath. She remembered waking up only to have to visit a series of funerals and ceremonies held in honor of the dead. She knew that laws were being changed.
The past four years were not a mystery to her. They were a series of precious memories and nightmares.
She looked at Draco.
"Start at the beginning."
A sigh fell from his lips, and his voice came out as a dream, a faraway look in his eyes.
"When you and I first met, we were enemies. But not because of you alone. It was who you were with."
"Who?"
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived and his blood traitor friend, Ronald Weasley. Although at the time you were merely friendly aquaintences. I tried to make my friends, in my usual manner of insulting those around him, then holding out a hand to shake. You were near him at that time. We were eleven. It was our first year at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
He gave her a funny look. Did she seriously not remember the name of the school they had gone to? Did those bastards actually keep it from her? He cursed silently in his head, although his expression never changed.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am a pureblood Granger, you were a muggle born. That is, my parents possessed magical powers whereas yours did not. If I remember correctly they're both dentists, by the names of Alex and Janet Granger. You were born to them sometime in late september."
Hermione gave him a funny look. For someone who was her supposed enemy he seemed to know a lot about her.
"Our contact was limited. Me verbally abusing you in the halls, you threatening to hex me everytime I called you a mudblood, my father cursing at me averytime you beat me in a subject...lots of things, but limited. In class we ignored each unless we were about half a rows distance from each other. Then we tried to make each others life hell. I actually enjoyed irritating you Granger."
"Call me Hermione. As much as I like knowing what my last name is, I do think that under the circumstances we could be on a first name basis." She cut in, a small smile on her lips. Draco nodded.
"As you wish. Call me Draco as well. I hate being known by my last name all the time."
She gave a light chuckle.
"Anyways...in third year you punched me, straight in the nose. It was the whole mudblood comment again. After that, because I know you're curious, I took an interest in finding everything about you that I could. I know you were homeschooled until Hogwarts, I know that you got a toothbrush and paste every year for christmas from your parents, as well as some muggle books, I know that need to know everything, and end up reading for hours if you find something too fascinating to put down, and that you did your homework and then let pothead potter and the weasel copy off of you. More than that even.
"I did it because I was looking for ammunition to harm you more, but I never really used it. You were too normal, except for your bookish ways and the muggle heritage. So I gave up.
" Fourht year was the triwizard tournament. That year you started dating Viktor Krum, the bulgerian seeker of the Chudley Cannons, and blackmailed Rita Skeeter. A fact that you and your friends were supposed to be the only ones to know, but I have ways of finding out things. Oh, and you somehow managed to straighten your hair for the yule ball, as well as find a dress that was decent. I didn't recognize you at first. To be honest, until I did recognize you, I was going to ask you out. Then I was repulsed by the very thought the moment your name popped up in my mind."
She gave him a funny look. Was that a compliment or an insult? He called her pretty then denounced it based on her heritage. Her eyebrows rose and she looked at him inquiringly. He glared at her for a second, then returned to his story.
"After that, in fifth year, Voldemort, aka Tom Marvolo Riddle returned. So I was forced to become a death eater, work for Voldemort, and begin my career in servitude to a man I had been raised to be in awe of, but learned to hate because he wasn't exactly the smartest, or most humane guy around. He wasn't even a pureblood, and yet he said all muggles and muggleborns were useless. So I guess he was basically proclaiming himself to be trash. But it was in sixth year that I left Hogwarts, helped kill Dumbledore, the headmaster at the time, and...well... that part of life is secret. You left Hogwarts as well, to help Potty and Weasel and the Order of the Pheonix, to hunt down Voldemort. The rest of your life is unknown to me until the final battle.
"....There....I believe that it's there that you lost your memories. You were aiming a hex at one of the Death eaters, stupify I believe, when he shouted expelliarmus, and the spell was sent back to you, slamming into you and forcing you to the ground. From what I know you cut yourself on your head somewhere, and didn't wake up until two days later. I know this because while you were busy fighting, I had run off after doing...things...and had taken a knife to my arm to skin the dark mark off of me.
"While I was busy ripping off the last of the flesh where the mark was, I looked up and saw you aim that spell. I fainted from the bloodloss shortly after you fell."
He looked up from the half empty butterbeer he had taken to staring at and gave a rueful smile.
"Someone healed my arm for me, and left a small scar. When I was tried as a death eater they pulled up my arm and saw nothing."
"I was there." She said softly. looking up. "Harry and Ron dragged me to all the trials, and I did see you then. But your hair was shorter, dirtier, and your robes were mussed from the cell."
"Indeed."
He looked up at the clock, then quickly downed the rest of his butterbeer. She looked as well, and gasped when she saw the time. It was nearly six! Ron would be at her apartment any minute to take her to the Weasley home for dinner with tha family. it was tradition that they do so every saturday! She looked at Draco, her eyes panicked.
"I have to go. I don't want them to worry about..."
"Go then. But do me one favor?"
She nodded.
"Return sometime. I'm bored here. There's nothing to do but spend money I don't want to spend, or read books I've read before."
She nodded again, then grabbed a handful of floo powder from the desk next to the fire. She stepped in and gave him a fond wave goodbye. He gave a small bow.
"Fourteen fifteen West Summit lane, apartment 2!"
And then she was gone.
oooooooooo
When she arrived there was someone sitting on her couch. One glace at the bright red hair alerted that it was Ron, and one pop from the fireplace with her arrival alerted him that she was home. He looked over, a frown on his still boyishly handsome features.
"Where have you been?" He asked, standing and coming over to her. She placed her purse on the counter and walked over to the bathroom to grab her brush.
"Library." She answered. He walked in behind her and leaned against the wall, his tall frame still towering over hers.
"The library is a block away, and it is a muggle building devoid of a fireplace. I doubt you could have flooed from there. And if you did go, why don't you have any books with you?"
"So it's an interrogation now is it? Fine. I'll be honest. I wasn't home."
"Obviously."
"But my business is my own, and you have no need to know where I was." She said calmly, deciding that for once, she wasn't going to answer to him or Harry all the time. Her movements didn't need to be monitered, and Ron and Harry didn't need to protect her.
Before she could listen to anymore questions as to her whereabouts she finished putting her hair in a bun and walked over to her fireplace. She grabbed another handful of floo powder and stepped in. His stunned and slightly angry face dissapeared as the green flames overwhelmed her.
oooooooooo
The moment she dissapeared Draco flung his empty glass against the wall.
Damn it all! Bloody damn it all ti the ninth hell and beyond!!! Why was he actually inviting her here? More than once! He had told her as much as he was willing to, and that was all she needed to know. He held no obligation to her, no honorable need to let her out of the dark. His excuse was poorhearted in inane.
Bored here?
No. He was bored here, but he didn't need the company of that...of that...
His shoulders slumped.
Mudblood.
And yet it didn't seem to matter. She was company that he got along with, and at least she had intelligence. Unlike most of the other people he knew. Or used to know. But maybe that was his problem. He should be in azkaban for his crimes, along with the other pureblooded bastards who thought their names were worth more than a persons life. He hadn't thought that way in a ling time now, but it had been true at one point. It had been true for the greater part of his life, or so he had been led to believe by his father.
He sneered.
His father deserved what he got and worse, and his mother had been no better. In fact every Black/Malfoy on the planet, other than Nymphadora Lupin and the now departed Sirius had been a bunch of self-serving, sneering, cruel, and utterly worthless bastards. They were foul.
He sat down again and leaned his head back until he was staring at the celing.
Gray.
Such a good color. It was the color that defined life. There was no black and white, only shades of gray. There was the grayness of his misery, the utter apathy that encompassed his life. The gray of war, that moment after the blood has been spilled and it was all over, when every moment was less reality and more of a bitter dream.
His eyes closed against all the grayness and he gave a sigh.
For the third time that week, Draco Malfoy, last of the Malfoy line, contemplated suicide.
oooooooooo
Yay! Another chapter! One with a lot of conversation, which was really odd to write but seeing as he had some explaining to do, yeah.... Draco officially talks a lot. ::nods::
Anyways, you know the drill, read and review!