Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Melody of Oblivion ❯ Loneliness ( Chapter 2 )

Melody of Oblivion

By Kitsune Yarisha

 

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

 

 

Chapter One: Loneliness

 

“The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, peculiar to myself and to a few other solitary men, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence.” - Thomas Wolfe

 

--

 

Draco Lucius Malfoy was not at all a pleasant soul Monday morning.

He'd had porridge spilt on him, was treaded on, late for work, and worst of it, was now stuck helping the Weasley twins find Mandrake leaves.

 

“We looked in the Ls…”

 

“Couldn't find it!”

 

“And now…”

 

“We've got to ask you, Malfoy!” The twins chimed together in unison.

 

Draco fought back a sneer as he asked slowly, “Did you look under the Ms?”

 

“No,” they replied blinking.

 

“There's your problem. It's M for Mandrake Leaves, not L for leaves of Mandrake,” he explained with surprising calm.

 

They nodded before walking off to the next aisle cheerfully.

 

Draco shook his head and went on break.

 

As he moved to the back, he took in the store. It wasn't much, this Potions and Cauldrons, but it was his life now since he had killed his father during the war. His mother soon followed after finding out, and, truth be told, he was almost glad; he'd nearly been disowned.

 

He sighed heavily and sat down on the counter in the break room. “Accio apple,” he drawled in a bored voice, holding out his hand to catch the green apple as it flew toward him.

 

He took a bite and stared at the opposite wall in thought.

 

It really had been a while since he had had the time to just sit and think. Times like this usually led to him crying over pictures, but it didn't matter to him.

 

Taking another bite of his apple, he reached over the microwave and grabbed his sketchbook and flipped it open to a clean page.

 

Thinking for a moment, he began drawing.

 

Before long, a set of detailed eyes appeared followed by a stout1 nose, and defined mouth.

 

“Draco?” The manager called into the break room, startling the blonde haired man. “There's a man asking for your assistance, and your break is over,” he told Draco as he put away the sketchbook and finished his apple.

 

“Yes, sir. I'll take care of it,” Draco promised as he moved out the door, searching for the customer.

 

“Do you keep everyone waiting that long?” A familiar voice asked coldly from behind him.

 

Draco turned and inclined his head forward slightly and greeted, “Hello, Professor. How may I help you?”

 

Snape gave him a dry look as he snapped, “Wolfsbane, Draco!”

 

“Yes, sir. This way, sir,” Draco said politely, gesturing toward an empty aisle.

 

They moved quickly through the crowd of shoppers, not stopping until they were out of potential earshot.

 

“What's wrong with Harry?” Draco asked in a hushed tone as soon as they had stopped.

 

Snape told him everything.

 

He told him that after Harry awoke, about two weeks ago, he had steadily undergone rehabilitation, which in fact was going quite well.

 

However…

 

“What does he remember?” Draco asked finally in a hesitant tone.

 

“Everything.”

 

“Everything?”

 

“Except for you and a few others.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Snape's expression warmed and softened as he said, “The memories are there, Draco.”

 

Draco gave him a dry look. “How do you figure that?”

 

“His eyes and voice told me everything.”

 

“What do I do now?”

 

“Reawaken the memories.”

 

Silence followed that calm comment awkwardly.

 

They stood, staring in the opposite direction of one another, before Serverus managed, “You know, I really do need a bottle of Wolfsbane.”

 

Draco gave him a weak smile and led him away.

 

--

 

Draco arrived at his manor with little incident.

 

No traffic accidents, crashes, bed drivers, or hitchhikers.

 

He sighed, pulling off coat and hanging it up, as he managed to remove his shoes.

 

In a dazed trance, Draco walked up a large flight of stairs to his room.

 

The walls, painted black and green, welcomed him home. The bed, looking extremely comfortable and warm, called his aching, weak body in invitation.

 

He declined unconsciously as he shifted around the desk in the left corner of the room. Behind it, he sat on the windowsill and gazed blankly at the comforting rain.

 

It drummed pleasantly against his double paned glass, soothing his mind till he could not recall his worries.

 

However, shrill screams of a distressed woman played against the melody of the rain in his mind.

 

She was dying, slowly and painfully, he remembered.

 

It was raining in the background, similar to this night.

 

His father had tortured her, forcing her to spill information about the light side.

 

And Draco… Draco had been there, treated to a show of nightmares no one should experience.

 

A victorious laugh emitted from his father as he released the woman from the torture with the Killing Curse. “Avada Kedavra!”

 

Draco flinched as the woman gave an inhuman scream in his memory. Ha had turned and fled the room that night, seeking comfort in the potions lab that existed in the manor. He had had horridly gory dreams, nightmares, that night.

 

Draco pressed his forehead to the glass, recalling with morbid interest that it had been raining the night he had murdered his father for the light side.

 

The glass felt good against his hot skin.

 

He was pulled from his memories as the muggle phone on his desk rang.

 

He got up and, taking a seat behind the desk, answered the phone, drawling, “Malfoy Manor. Draco speaking.”

 

“Drae? Oh, Draky-poo, good news, sweetie!” A feminine voice squealed into his ear, obviously not use to being limited to muggle electronics as Draco was.

 

He flinched.

 

Pansy Parkinson.

 

“What is it, Pansy?”

 

“Oh, Drae! Potter's…”

 

“Alive and awake, I know,” Draco interrupted impatiently.

 

She gasped in shock. “Who told you?”

 

“Serverus.”

 

“No fair! He knows where you work!”

 

“I've told you countless times, my dear, but you simply do not listen.”

 

“Not true!”

 

“All right, don't believe me.”

 

She huffed, “Fine, then. I won't, Draco.”

 

“All right with me. Good-bye, Pansy,” He replied politely.

 

The line went dead instantly.

 

He sighed and hung up the phone. He moved about his room for a short time before, giving up, he crawled into his bed and let sleep engulf him.

 

--

 

It rained harder now, a constant reminder of the dwindling time. Near him, Longbottom and Granger slew another Death Eater, as he moved past his father's corpse.

 

They looked weary and old, the stress of the final battle almost too much for the young eighteen year old pair.

 

He watched them run toward him and question worriedly, “Where's Luna?”

 

He stared at them for a moment, before remembering that, ah yes, she was paired with him to fight off the enemy. He, Draco, just shook his head in grief.

 

A sob pushed past Granger's lips and Longbottom gave a shout of rage at the loss of his girlfriend.

 

Draco flinched but pressed on with his own inquiry, “Granger, Longbottom, where did Harry go?”

 

Granger sobbed with anew in anguish as Longbottom sighed.

 

“He's followed You-Know-Who to the graveyard.”

 

As if on cue, two voices screamed, “Avada Kedavra!”

 

“No!” Draco shouted as he pushed past the former Gryffindors, hurrying toward the voices.

 

Even in his panic filled haste, he managed to pull himself toward Harry's magical power, searching through it frantically for life traces.

 

He ran into the graveyard, huffing.

 

“Expelliarmus!” Voldemort shouted, the light from his wand an unusually bright blue hue.

 

Harry was slumped against the Marvolo grave, his eyes a striking emerald green as he shouted, “Avada Kedavra!”

 

 

To be continued.

 

A/N: 1 I meant stout as in firm and strong, not as in fat.

 

I could not resist putting in the Weasley Twins.

 

That last part was a dream/memory Draco was having of the last battle. I had a really had time deciding if I was really going to put in this bit because I wanted to make it seem as if he remembered everything but it wasn't haunting him. However, I figured after hearing Potter was awake alive that he's need to have a good reaction, and what better than to make him dream of that last battle!

 

To anyone who hasn't figured it, the word for Harry's condition was Wolfsbane. Obvious, I know.

 

Um, that last bit there `the Marvolo grave', that'll change/vary in the next chapter because of the center POV. Still third person though.

 

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one.