Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, nor does the plot. They belong to JK Rowling and O. Henry, respectively.
1/19/07 Whew! Just finished my finals! Oh yeah! The best part about it was that I discovered this story called "Hearts and Hands" by O. Henry, which inspired this piece. I don't think my writing did the story proper justice, but oh well. Also, please point out any typos, I proofread it myself, and you know how unreliable that is. . . Enjoy!
DMHG, in a way. Hermione sits alone in a coach and receives in unexpected visitor. And so leads to a conversation that will change her outlook on life.
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Hearts and Hands
Hermione Granger sat alone in an empty coach. The plush velvet seats had been worn away and the marks of years of use stood apparent. Her luggage sat by her feet; a simple leather carry-on filled with her clothes and toiletries. She parted the window curtains with a callused hand.
She looked outside the window. She looked, but did not see, the fertile green land with sun shining on it rushing by her. It was beautiful, yes, but it seemed superficial to her. Because, she knew that out there, were people who didn't even know of Voldemort and the pains the wizarding community had taken to make sure they remained ignorant. The Minister of Magic had said it was their duty to maintain their innocence, because surely, they weren't ready to realize our existence. Hermione of course, had disagreed, but her arguments fell upon deaf ears. And so she was on the train, running away from the politics she had become a part of, even though she never wanted to do so.
Hermione had wanted to become an auror at first, it was what Harry and Ron wanted to do after all. She had been content to follow the boys wherever they chose to go, who else would watch over them? Who else would dig through ancient documents and spells to find the one they just needed? But soon, she realized that path wasn't hers. For once in her life, she didn't know what to do. There was no one particular subject she had wanted to specialize in, and so she went to Professor McGonagall. The Professor had looked sadly at her over her glasses and simply wrote a letter.
"Give this to the Headmaster," was all she had said.
Hermione was puzzled, but took it anyway. She didn't read it of course, that was rude. And so, she made her way to Dumbledore's office only pausing to enunciate the password of "Lemonheads." As she put the letter in Dumbeldore's hands, she was filled with an unknown sense of anticipation. Her intuition was telling her that whatever came next, was her set path, and nothing she could do would change it. And so she was right.
Dumbledore had then told her of their need for someone in the Ministry who could initiate the required change needed to further their cause. Obviously, Harry and Ron couldn't do it, so that left only her. He reminded her that it was ultimately her decision, that it was her choice, her life. Hermione had hesitated in replying. It wasn't that she was afraid, it was that she knew her life had just taken an inexplicable turn she wasn't ready for, despite her earlier intuition.
She was opinionated, and couldn't keep her mouth shut about what she believed in. She didn't hesitate to show her open dislike of policy and whatnot. But that was her problem. She would make a terrible politician. She had no like for secret machinations and dangerous political alliances. She had never had a talent for Slytherin-like things. She expressed her worries.
"You will rise to whatever occasion presents itself," was his response.
And so she entered the political minefield of the wizarding world. Harry and Ron both understood what she was doing, but not quite all of it. They knew it was what she needed to do, and so it was fine with them. They had no inkling of her insecurities about leaving behind her friends. Because in order to make her way into the heart of the politics, she would have to face people who hated Harry, and challenge policies that the Weasleys supported.
But she rose to the occasion just as Dumbledore had said she would. She was brutal and determined, she showed no hesitation and did what needed to be done. She betrayed some of her ideals, yes, but in the end, she triumphed. If not a little battered for it.
But the constant destruction of her morals for the greater good took its toll on her. Her once bright eyes had seemed to become lost in a perpetual haze of blackness and her countenance no longer as lively. The final blow had become known as the Decree of Ignorance, the Minister's decision to keep muggles ignorant.
And so, here she was on the train, running away from it all. But she couldn't run away from the feeling that she was losing sight of who she was. Leaving all vestiges of her former personality on the platform she had boarded, along with her discarded luggage that carried her political dissertations.
X X X
A knock on the coach woke her up. At first she thought she was dreaming, but soon realized the cold window pane really was against her forehead. And then her eyes opened, only to see that her breath had frosted on the window. She drew away from the window and looked to see who was entering the empty coach.
Two men entered. The first to enter was a tall man, built with muscle. Ugly scars wound their way across his body only stopping when encountering burn marks here and there. His chest was broad and shoulders huge. Clothes stretched across his body, barely accommodating to his large size. His dark hair was in disarray and fell into his shrewd eyes that surveyed the coach. His eyes fell on her and she nodded in greeting. The man entered the coach and was followed by a second man.
The second man was the opposite of the first. His white-gold hair was long, but stylishly cut. His clothes were neatly pressed and obviously tailored. His robes were a deep shade of green trimmed with cream and silver. His footsteps seemed light and his demeanor denoted style and class.
They moved across the coach and sat across from Hermione. She took a closer look then, and was quickly filled with shock.
"Malfoy! What in blazes are you doing here?"
Draco Malfoy roused himself from his sleepy position on the seat and peered closely at her. He queried, "Do I know you?"
"Of course you should! We went to Hogwarts together for seven years! Surely you remember me, don't you?"
Although her surprise was authentic, she wasn't overly so. After Hogwarts, her body had gone through the last part of puberty, finally letting her grow quite nicely. Most people didn't recognize her without the frizzy brown hair and buckteeth. Yes, he had seen her after Hogwarts, but she had still changed somewhat since then, she had just thought the overly-observant Malfoy would instantly recognize her regardless.
"Granger?"
She replied warmly, "Yes!"
"Good God, how did I not notice you by your hair? Hasn't changed much has it?"
She was going to make a sharp remark about how little his pale-complexion had changed, but she realized the teasing smile on his face. Instead, she said, "Don't tease, now. It's been, what? At least five years since I last saw you. It was during the Christmas party the Ministry held and you had come with Ron and Harry, I believe."
"Sharp as ever. Yes, it was then."
"It's good to see you again." She extended her hand in greeting.
"Forgive me, but my right hand is currently preoccupied." He raised it and revealed the handcuffs binding his slim hand to the man's paw-like hands.
She inhaled sharply and wondered what could have happened. During seventh year, Malfoy had finally straightened out. He decided to walk a different path than his father and quickly became friends with Harry, Ron, and her. However, both of them weren't able to break the habit of calling each other by their surnames; she supposed it had become a term of endearment in one way. She thought all the Death Eater deeds were behind him. . .
Then the other man spoke up in a large, booming voice, almost animalistic. "Don't worry about the auror, miss. He's escorting me to Azkaban for killing Lucius Malfoy. Hopefully, he'll put in a good word or two for me. It might make the difference in whether I get the Kiss or not. . ."
So, Lucius had finally died. Good. She had heard about it in passing once, but was too busy to look into it further. But she didn't want to talk about that. Things like that never made for good conversation. But still, something wasn't quite right with the picture here. . .
The man continued, "Don't worry about me Miss, the handcuffs keep me from working any magic an doing any harm."
She stayed silent for a moment, but thought it best not to continue with the dark thoughts.
"Is that what you've been doing all these years, Malfoy? I never imagined you as an auror, but I suppose I can now. . . I bet you're an excellent one at that. You always excelled in the cloak and dagger skills."
"Huh," he snorted. "I never imagined I'd be doing this either."
X X X
And so the two talked for hours. They talked of times long gone, their stories of rule-breakings and opinions of their teachers. How Harry and Ron missed him in their own backwards way. Of course they had argued a few times, but they always had. She expected nothing less of him.
She was happier than she had been in years. She was able to talk openly with him, without fear of judgment. He had never been one to judge, only to reflect and give suggestions. And she too listened to his stories, without the haze of prejudice because of his years as a Slytherin prat.
They heard the announcement declaring the next stop. It was the one Malfoy would get off on if he was going to Azkaban. So, she asked once more, "Must you go on the Azkaban?"
"Yes, I must."
The whistle sounded, and Malfoy and his prisoner stood.
Hermione realized this would be the last time they would see each other in a long time. They probably wouldn't even see each other again, it was only chance they were here now. . . So, she reached into her pocket and extracted a coin stamped with a phoenix. She grabbed his left hand and pressed the coin into it.
"If you ever need me, use that coin. I have the matching one."
"Alright." A moment's pause. "Goodbye Hermione."
"Goodbye Draco."
And he left the coach.
Hermione sighed, all her energy had deserted her. She covered her face with her hands and then looked out the window again. The green countryside was no longer sunny, but instead overcast with thunderclouds. The scenes no longer went past her at high speeds, but seemed to slow down. She took a good look outside.
And then she realized it.
Neither had mentioned the night at the Christmas party when they had kissed. . . when it had all began, and. . .
Aurors never cuffed people on their right hand.
And she cried.