When Draco left Hogwarts with his parents a weight was lifted with each hurried step away from the castle. When they finally breached the wards it felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured down his body, and the bracing shiver that ran through him released him from any hold that place had over him.
The days that followed were a blur of death notices, and Ministry interviews. There were no public funerals held for the like of his aunt, but he alone from his household was given leave to attend that of his godfather. Severus was laid to rest with little fanfare, considering who was in attendance. The split allegiance left both sides questioning whose side he was truly on when he died. Draco felt like a fraud as he sat in the front of the small chapel and listened as Harry Potter delivered a short speech about forgiveness and moving on. He watched as the casket closed on the man that had been there for him when he needed it most.
The word forgiveness ran through his mind all night.
It rang through the room in the depths of the Ministry months later when he stood trial for his role in the infiltration of Hogwarts in Year Six. Never from his own lips. He didn't deserve forgiveness. He needed to pay for everything he had done. Not like his father paid, by opening the Malfoy vault to pay for rebuilding the Hogwarts grounds. No, that would be too easy. He needed to be punished.
When Harry walked up to the podium, a shudder ran down Draco's spine. This was it. No one had reason to doubt the defender of the wizarding world. They would hear how he attempted to kill Professor Dumbledore. They would hear how Draco stood by and watched as the young woman standing beside Harry was tortured with Unforgivables. That is what Draco prepared for, was hoping for. The cathartic purging of his wrongdoings for the world to see, and to be rightfully condemned for them. His own hands shook as he fiddled with unseen lint on his robes as he prepared to face his demons. But it wasn't Harry who spoke.
"Miss Granger," a deep voice boomed from the Chief Warlock's seat, "You have requested an audience regarding the fate of Mr. Malfoy. Please proceed."
His stomach clenched as he again prepared to hear his worst sins laid bare. He seemed to save the worst ones for her. For everything he'd done in the past few years, standing by and allowing her to be nearly killed was the one that haunted his dreams most often.
.o0o.
"Excuse me, Miss," one of the Unspeakables who was flanking him barked at Hermione, who had made her way to the back of the room where they were headed.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this the door you use for prisoners? My mistake." She smiled politely at the man and his partner and turned on the spot. Her cloaks billowed around her in a manor that would impress even his father; in the comotion, no one noticed a small parcel pressed into Draco's hand. Not even Draco. He was looking back at Hermione as she wound her way through the throng to Harry who was still in the center of the room. Draco couldn't help but shake his head at the pair of do-gooders, he deserved more that he got thanks to them.
Or, rather, thanks to her.
Why had she spoke out against sending him away and throwing away the key?
When Draco arrived at Azkaban hours later and was in the confines of his cell he took out the tiny package Hermione had passed to him. It was small, about the size of one of those Muggle credit cards, and for some reason none of the guards had detected it. He turned it around in his hands for a while but dropped it on the floor when it felt like it was burning his hands.
The words Open Me burned across the front. Once it was cool enough to hold, Draco unlatched the small clasp on the front and peered inside.
"How the bloody hell did the witch do that?" He asked no one in particular while shaking the contents onto his pallet bed. There wasn't much inside the small package; just a handsome black dragonhide journal, and two quills. He ran his finger down the spine. It felt like any other journal he'd ever owned; the leather was very supple, as though it were crafted by a master, and the pages were a sturdy cotton with a vellum finish. When he opened to the second page his heart stopped. He watched as dark red blossomed and spread across the pages.
Hello Draco.
Hope the charms I put on this package worked. There is an undetectable extension charm on the inside has been battle proven. The outer concealment charm, however, is a new one.
Use the red quill to let me know you got this.
Regards,
Hermione
Draco shoved the journal along with the black and red quills back into the small package and put it under his bed. What was she thinking? Sending him something like this?
His dreams that night, when he finally fell asleep, were riddled with ferrets and bushy hair, broken noses and broken girls, and forgiveness.
The next day, he paced the floor in his cell from the time he woke up until the time he laid down for bed. Memorizing the steps from one end to the other was a game he had invented and played using Eyes Open Draco, against Eyes Closed Draco. Eyes Closed Draco was doing better every time, Eyes Open Draco found himself looking to the spot under his bed where he stashed the package more frequently than he ought to.
That night while laying on his bed, he took the journal out of the package and just held it, not exactly knowing why. When it heated up this time, he realized it wasn't as hot has he thought it was. Either that, or the chill of Azkaban had begun sinking further into his body and the warmth felt good. He told himself it was that desire, to feel warm again, that made him open the journal. There was no other reason he would need to see the sprawling handwriting of the know-it-all from Hogwarts. The red blossomed across the page again and he was not waiting anxiously to see what she had to say tonight. At least, that's what he told himself.
Draco,
I really hope this is you. I'm sure you have questions, and I would like nothing more than to put your mind at ease that it is me and I mean you no harm.
When we were in Sixth Year, the password to the Prefect Bathroom was 'cannonball', which was ridiculous. Anyway, you walked in once when I thought I was by myself and was doing a rather… embarrassing thing. Something I know you wouldn't have told another soul.
Please write me back using the red quill.
Awaiting your reply,
Hermione
Draco laughed. It was the oddest feeling, and something he would bet money on never happening: laying on the uncomfortable bed in Azkaban, looking down at a message from Hermione Granger, and laughing. Who even was he?
Hesitating a bit longer, he wondered what would happen if put quill to paper. Was it some sort of trick? Would it sound an alarm that he was attempting to communicate with someone outside of the prison? But he didn't care. What would they do, keep him here longer? That was what he wanted anyway. Taking a deep breath, he began writing.
Dear Hermione,
I am in prison, where I belong; why are you torturing me further by bringing up that night? But fine, because I need to feel more pain, I will put your mind at ease.
Your plan of giving me this journal, for whatever reason that may be, was successful. And, to prove it… I walked into the Prefect bathroom that evening expecting to be alone. When I heard someone who, to my dying day I will insist was Moaning Myrtle, was singing Spice Girls. I will also vow that I was under some spell or enchantment, because I started singing along. I am now thoroughly and completely at your mercy.
Are you happy now?
~D
The letters went back and forth. Hermione explaining that the journal was only two way when he wanted it to be. If he wrote in black, nothing would be sent to the other person, it was just the red quill that was enchanted to transfer to the twin journal.
The years Draco spent in Azkaban were long, but the nights that he was able to write to Hermione and she was able to write back were the best. They had gone through a lot together. She brought lightness and clarity to some of the darkest places in his heart. He supported her when the world looked to the other two 'Heroes' of the war. They made each other better people by telling secrets in the journal they shared. With the words of encouragement and being absolved of his sins by the one he sinned against most, he finally felt at peace.
.o0o.
CHASER 3: The Nati of Himachal Pradesh; write about a character who makes a friend that makes them peaceful
[Poem] A Friend - Gillian Jones
[Object] Journal
[quote] "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." -Eleanor Roosevelt
Hogwarts
Ravenclaw
Arts and Crafts -Lesson 3: Write about doing something in a unique way. (Communication via journal)