Chapter 1: Letters From Home
They say that time changes people. They say that time changes everything. Things that seem stable and constant can be blown away by a gust of wind. Things that don't seem to fit together can suddenly snap into place in the blink of an eye. So much can happen in one lifetime.
Hermione sighed and put the book down. "Bollocks," she muttered to the darkness. A lamp spilled light over a small corner of the lounge where a young woman sat reading a Muggle philosophy book. It was late—9 p.m. maybe. She couldn't be sure, as the clock had been shattered a few weeks ago by a small girl throwing a temper tantrum.
The brown-haired witch rose from the chair, deciding to retire to bed. She held the book under her arm and began to climb the stairs exhaustedly.
"Mum, is that you?" a voice called from behind a door to her left.
She opened the door softly. "Seth, what are you doing awake, honey?"
"Couldn't sleep." His voice was laced with grogginess and yawns threatened to overtake him. Hermione smiled at her young son.
"Alright, well, try to," Seth opened his mouth to protest. "Or you can start on your Charms homework, which I don't believe you've begun yet, correct?" she asked sweetly, sensing him tense.
"Actually, mum, I'm really tired…I think," he yawned, pushing his platinum blonde hair out of his face. "I think I'll go back to sleep now." Hermione nodded her approval and shut the door quietly.
The door to her right was the bedroom of her young daughter, Cassie. She opened the door softly, and being successful in her stealth, did not wake her sleeping angel.
"Granger," he nodded in her direction. The library held several students today, all preparing for OWLS and NEWTS. Hermione Granger was no exception to this rule. She sat in the back corner of the library pouring over a potions book.
"Malfoy."
"Think maybe you could move, Granger? You're in my way."
Hermione smirked. "There's no one here, Draco." She glanced around to reassure herself. Sure enough, her particular corner of the library was deserted. Even the students had begun to filter out every so often.
"Have you ever danced?" his mood changed slightly and he brushed his hand against hers, sending shivers through her body.
"Of course I have," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
"In the rain?" Draco asked, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. A rare sight, Hermione was lost in his shining eyes that seemed to be dancing themselves.
Hermione looked at the boy and silently shook her head 'No'. Draco grabbed her hand once more and Hermione ran with him to the Entrance Hall. Throwing open the doors, the rain poured from the sky. They sprinted down the steps of the castle. Slipping and sliding, they made their way to a tree near the Forbidden Forest. Draco took her hands and placed them over his shoulders while resting his on her waist. One hand went to push a strand of brown hair from her drenched face. "Is this real?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Yes," he responded quickly, kissing her forehead.
"No…I mean…this: us."
"Absolutely," he whispered.
"Okay," she leaned into his strong arms, nestling her head in his chest. The pair stood in silence, listening to the pounding rain on the trees.
"Marry me," he said suddenly, pushing away to look at her face with the utmost sincerity.
"Sorry?" Hermione looked up into his smoldering eyes.
"Marry me," He whispered again.
Hermione hesitated, trying to read his face.
"I love you." He kissed her nose softly.
"I—"
He was Ten. Ten years old when he left. One more year until Seth got his letter, and he couldn't wait to be just like his father.
Seth slowly sat up and walked over to his computer desk. Sleep was difficult that night. He wasn't sure what it was, but he kept having dreams about his father yelling. Over the last few years, the dreams had left him in a state when he awoke.
He sighed as he sat down in the chair and picked up a photo lying on the desk. The frame was chipped in place; the glass was long since shattered. Seth was nine. He was the identical copy of his handsome father. Seth and Draco were about 200 feet up in the air in the countryside, away from prying muggles. The broomstick was Seth's- he had received it on his ninth birthday. A Tru-Touch 7000 was the most up-to-date broom in that time. Seth glanced at his open closet. His favorite broom stood there against the wall. Though he hadn't flown it since then, he would never forget the feeling of the Tru-Touch 7000.
Taking out a pen and paper, he thought of what he could say. He had so many questions, but couldn't write them all in words.
Hey Dad,
Hey Dad
I'm writing to you
Not to tell you
That I still hate you
Just to ask you
How you feel
And how we fell apart
I don't really know what to say. I don't even know you. I don't know why I'm writing this, other than I can't sleep. Do you have any idea what you've put us through? Mom was in a state when you left. Working and trying to stay on her feet and keep Cassie and me together as well.
Are you happy out there
In this great wide world
Do you think about your sons
Do you miss your little girl?Cassie hardly remembers you. She's turning eleven in a few weeks. She'll get her letter soon, and I wish you could be here to see her grow up. She's so beautiful, and I love her.
They say that people love because they have something they need to give. Love is the greatest of all things, but also the greatest of all evils. Giving someone the power to love you means trusting them that they will care for you. Giving someone your love means giving them the power to hut you and trusting that they won't.
Hermione sighed and bookmarked her page. "Muggle philosophy…it's all a joke," she grumbled, placing the book on her bedside table. She drew the sheets and a comforter around her and plopped her head on a pillow.
"Draco, what's wrong? You're not yourself," Hermione murmured in his ear. The Room of Requirements, found in her fifth year, proved to be a quiet and relaxing place. Hermione and Draco sat on the couch together, her hand on his chest and his in her hair. A far off look was set in his eyes.
"I'm fine." he said flatly.
"Draco, please trust me," Hermione begged, a worried look in her chocolate eyes.
"I'm fine," Draco repeated.
"Draco, I know you're not," she entwined her fingers with his.
"Father…is going to Azkaban."
Hermione worked up some pity and set it in her eyes before turning to Draco. "I'm sorry,"
He laughed dryly. "Hermione…you don't have to be. That bastard got what was coming to him."
Hermione fingered a piece of paper, folding and unfolding it nervously. Draco had been so lost in himself he had failed to notice it…until now. He snatched the paper out of her hands playfully, but her face lost its color and became pale. "Draco, give it back," she said softly.
"What's this? A love note?" he crooned, kissing her cheek. "H—meet me tonight in the kitchens. We need to talk about last night.—R" Draco's voice changed from arrogant to questioning, to accusing, to soft hissing.
"Weasley?" he hissed, dropping her hand from his as if it had burned her.
"Draco, it's not what you think. I was going to tell you about it, but you—"
"What, that you're snogging Weasley on the side? That you're messing around with him behind my back?" his voice rose threateningly. "I'm risking everything for you, Hermione. What's going on?"
"It was an accident. He was going to apologize. We were alone in the common room and he…he kissed me," Hermione saw the anger rising in Draco and worked to calm him down. "But I pushed him off. And he just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry you found out like this—I was going to tell you, honest."
When you lay your head down
How do you sleep at night
Do you even wonder if we're all right
It's been a long hard road without you by my side
Why weren't you there all the nights that we cried
You broke my mother's heart
You broke your children for life
It's not okay
Seven-year-old Seth bounded down the stairs as he heard his mother's voice, "BREAKFAST!"
"Mornin' sport!" Seth's father, Draco Malfoy laid the Daily Prophet on the table and rose from his chair. He crossed over to his small son devouring him in a great bear hug. Draco looked at him suspiciously. "Son, you're going to have to stop growing," he said in mock seriousness.
"But Dad, I'm gonna be just like you." Seth told his father indignantly, puffing out his chest.
"Oh..You'll be just like your old man! You're gonna be a great seeker on your house team and a prefect. Then you're gonna be head boy. You'll be quite the lady's man as well, sport." Draco winked at Hermione, who was currently setting the pans to wash themselves. Hermione smirked good naturedly and rolled her eyes.
"But not too soon. Don't want you growing up any quicker than you have to," Hermione said with a small laugh, ruffling her son's blonde hair. Setting Seth down on his own two feet, Draco walked over to the table and started to eat.
Suddenly, a ruffling of feathers interrupted his meal.
"Mail's here!" Seth screeched, groping around, trying to nab the owl in mid-flight. Seth's ten-year-old spunk did not seem to impress Ringo, the Malfoy's Snowy Owl, who lighted on Draco's shoulder. He carefully reached up for the mail. In exchange, Ringo gratefully accepted a whole piece of toast from his little master, Seth, having to fly down to retrieve it. "Did I get anything Dad?"
"Sorry sport-nothing today. Maybe tomorrow. What are you expecting anyway?"
"Nothing," Seth said a little quickly. He didn't want his dad to know that he had won tickets to see the Turning Thatches in Concert. It was his dad's favorite band.
Draco's face suddenly fell. He stared at a certain letter for the longest time. It felt like days to Seth, but in reality, it was only a minute or so. His father turned the letter over and over in his hands, running his fingers along the edges as if making sure it was real.
"What is it Dad?" Seth asked cautiously. From his father's face, he could tell it wasn't good.
"It's not important. Seth, go help you mother clean the house. I need to go somewhere. I'll talk to you later, sport."
A/N: So...there it is, hopefully better now.
If you can read it, you can review it!
Cheers!
//Kat