The Broken One
By Azure Darkness
Draco Malfoy walked out of the door, defeated once again by forces he couldn't control. He cursed the new wizarding world. It was nothing he could be apart of anymore. The dark mark seperated you from the general public and there was nothing you could do or say to make anyone change their mind about you. Once bad, always bad, they'd say.
He had lost his fortune and his parents sat rotting in Azkaban. Well, at least he wasn't there. That would be worse than his current state. No place to call home ... permenantly. Food was found, not bought. And clothing came when he could find something that wasn't torn to bits in the rubbish bins or the dark alleys in which he had spent the night in many a time. It was a life he had never imagined for himself. No, this was some alternate world in which he had been deposited. He was on the other side of the extreme. He'd once been extremly rich, now, he was extremely poor.
He stepped away from the store that had told him they had no work for him, though an enchanted 'Help Wanted' sign hovered behind the frosty window. He knew why he wasn't allowed the job. He was a former death eater. A killer. A wizard who made a bad choice and was being punished for it. He kicked at a small pebble that stood in his path. He looked up at the sky. It was dark. He'd been out looking around at places, any place, for a job. No luck, once again. Hopefully, it wouldn't rain, as he would be sleeping under the stars tonight.
Hermione Granger sat down in her favorite chair. A plush, royal blue recliner that she'd purchased soon after she moved into the house she'd seen for sell at the edge of Hogsmeade. The sky was darkening and she knew it'd be cold this October night. She'd wished she'd stopped at the bakery for a brownie or something sweet. Her sweet tooth was looking to be indulged and she had nothing in her house to sate it.
She reached over to her side table and picked up a book she'd started reading the previous night. Some story about a poor orphan wizard down on his luck and no hopes of ever getting out of his pitiful situation. She opened the book to the page she'd been on and started reading. Nothing could ever calm her as much as a warm cup of tea and a book.
Draco slinked through the dark streets, hoping no muggers or killers were out looking for prey. He didn't have any money. Well, beside the galleons he'd seen a little girl drop in Diagon Alley. He'd waited until her and her mother disappeared into the store and then he'd greedily ran over and grabbed the few gold coins before anyone came along. He'd held onto the coins as if they held his very soul, as they were hard to come by.
He didn't know where he'd sleep tonight. He'd wondered if he'd been better off being killed in the war. This was no way to live, but he reminded himself that people have been living this way for centuries and they'd been fine. As fine as they could be. He peered around the corner and saw a small house. It looked dark, so maybe it was abandoned. He smiled. Maybe he'd be sleeping with a roof over his head after all.
Hermione woke up in a cold sweat. She hated being alone, but since Ron had died, there was no one to share her bed and she wasn't sure if she wanted anyone to, anyway. She calmed herself down with the fact that it was finally morning and she'd made it through the night with only one bad dream of the war. Usually it was much worse. She could barely sleep most nights, but she was getting better.
She reached for her wand that sat on her bedside table and opened her curtains a little more to let the light shine in. She sat the wand back down before climbing out of bed and going to take her morning shower. If all went as planned today, she'd have a great work day.
Draco Malfoy woke up to the sun shining on his face in the most awful manner. He wished the old house he'd found had had blinds or drapes or anything to keep the sun out of his face. He wouldn't mind sleeping longer, for he hardly ever got a chance to sleep indoors and with an actual place to sleep. Well, it wasn't a bed, but an old, deserted couch with a dusty blanket over it was close enough. Better than most things he slept on.
He sat up and looked around. He didn't have a chance to do so the night before. The place was dusty and old. Nothing was on the walls. There was no furniture except the old couch and an old small side table that was covered in spider webs of dust and dirt. The floor was covered with a shaggy brown carpet that didn't look quite as dusty as the wooden floor it laid on. He sighed. Maybe this was a sign his life was taking a turn for the better.
Hermione couldn't understand why she couldn't figure out the last ingredient to her potion. True, it had taken her months to get this far, but now she thought she'd had it down. The day before she said she'd have it ready for St. Mungo's to use and now she couldn't remember what finished it off. What type of researcher was she, she wondered. One who was stupid enough not to write down the steps and ingredients to a potion because she'd been too excited at the prospect of creating a temporary cure for Lycanthropy.
She pulled off her worn dragonhide gloves and sat them down on the table. She turned the fire off under the cauldron she'd been brewing her potion in. No use in letting it boil any longer when she wouldn't know what to put in it. She ran her fingers through her hair and thought about outside. She'd barely been out since she'd started her work on the potion almost nine months ago. Sure, she'd gone out to get the occassional food and book or went to visit her friends who remained, but other than that, she didn't venture any further than her own front yard.
She pulled herself out of her chair and decided that maybe she needed something to eat and a little rest. Maybe then her mind would remember what the last ingredient was for her potion. She took off her long, black robe and draped it over the worn out wooden chair she'd gotten from her parents house before it'd been attacked and destroyed by two of Voldemort's reckless followers. She hadn't really gotten over their passing, but she still liked to keep things in her house to keep their memories alive.
"Look, I can work. I will do whatever you need me to. I'll scrub toilets with my bare hands. I'll get on my knees and wash the floor with my own toothbrush if I have to. I really need a job, sir." You could just barely hear the disdain in Draco's voice.
The graying wizard looked down at Draco and scrunched up his pig-like nose. He wasn't going to give Draco the job, but Draco didn't know that. The man could get a cheap days work out of him, though. "I'll try you out and if you do a good job, I'll pay you for the day and hire you. If not, I'll throw you a few galleons and you be on your way and don't show your face around here again."
"Thank you, sir." Draco said. It literally burned his tongue to have to call someone who would have been beneath him before the war, sir. The greasy, portly man probably didn't even know the meaning of the word, but he was giving him a chance. More chance than he usually got. He had to take it and hope the man showed him some mercy.
"Hermione, you've been working too hard. Don't you want to take some time and enjoy life?"
"My life ended when Ron died, Ginny. There is nothing else, but my potion to keep me going."
Hermione sat at her kitchen table while her fiance's sister tried to get her to leave the house. It was an on-going thing that Hermione allowed only because it brought her company. She'd never tell Ginny that she'd been out in the world and didn't like what she saw. Aurors patroling the streets and bothering anyone who even looked at one of them funny. People were being sent to Azkaban for the simplest things now. Many witches and wizards with their children on the street because they had been related to or associated with death eaters. Some hadn't even known of their relations to the relatives in the death eaters, but nothing they said could stop the Ministry from taking their money and accusing them of being traitors to the light side that was in control now.
"Ginny, don't worry about me. You be happy and tell everyone I said hello."
"Hermione, you're isolating yourself and Ron wouldn't like it."
"Well, you know what? Ron isn't here and you don't know what he would or wouldn't like. Good bye."
Draco couldn't believe what a fool he'd been. He'd worked the entire day, scrubbing, serving, washing, walking, stooping, climbing, and scraping and the old man said he wasn't good enough. The old man had given him five galleons, barely enough for all the work he'd done, and told him to honor their deal. So, Draco left and wouldn't show his face around the dodgy, old pub again.
He pocketed his meager wages and walked to the edge of Hogsmeade. He had his wand, which had been reworked so he could do nothing more than the most simple spells, transfigurations, and charms with it, but he'd decided to walk instead of Apparate. He needed to clear his mind and let off the steam of anger that was clouding his mind.
It almot blew him away when he'd been standing, looking straight ahead, and saw a brown-haired witch come out of a large, but modest looking house. It took him a moment, but he realized just who the witch was. The famous Hermione Granger.
Hermione went out into her garden to study her various herbs and flowers. She'd finally figured out what her last ingredient was and quickly went outside to find the flower she needed. It was in the farthest part of her garden. A special flower that took years to bloom and was only at it's best for a few days before it wilted and could no longer be used in any potions.
She reached it and kneeled down on the ground, careful not to crush anything, to gather the flowers. It would be a few more days until they wilted, but if she put a freezing charm on them they'd stay good for at least a year. She gathered the flowers that were scarlet, tipped with the slightest silver, and started back towards her front door. A hand stilled her movements.
Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger stood face to face for the first time in years. Where Hermione had filled out and had a curvy, womanly shape, Draco was willowy and straight. He looked as if he hadn't had a decent meal in a while. Where Hermione's hair was dull from not gathering enough sunlight, Draco's was bleached ever whiter from the summer sun that had recently passed. They looked at each other in awe before either uttered a word.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione questioned, gathering her wits about her first.
"I could ask you the same thing. I thought you'd be living in a grand house and not looking ... so sick."
"I thought the same of you. You look like you've been living in the gutters of London."
Draco's lips hinted at the old smirk that used to annoy Hermione to no end. "That's where I have been living. Well, until I found a house on the other end of Hogsmeade."
"The Lightfoot House."
"What?"
Hermione quickly looked around and pulled Draco, who allowed himself to be pulled, into her house and looked her door behind them.
"You don't know about the Ligthfoot house. It was where the old lady lived who was taking care of war orphans. She died a year ago and no one's been in that house since. They've spoken of fixing it up and selling it, but I guess they haven't done anything with it yet."
"Oh, Mercy Lightfoot. She did wonders for those children. Too bad they've been sent to the wizarding orphange. I'm not saying the place is bad, but no one should have to grow up in a place like that."
Hermione looked at Draco. Or more, she studied him. His face seemed a bit more pointed than the last time she'd laid eyes on him. It was probably because he was skinnier. Not that she hadn't lost a few pounds since Ron's passing, but she hadn't been living out on the street and she wasn't eating because she was busy, not for lack of food like Draco.
"Again, what are you doing here?"
Draco sat down and took in the cozy surroundings. Plush furniture, rich colors on the walls, beautiful paintings, a warm fireplace. Such simple things, but more than he had. "I really don't know. I saw you and just came over. I didn't really have a reason or anything."
"Oh, well, would you like some tea?" Hermione offered, moving over to her kitchen. It wasn't big because Hermione only knew how to cook simple meals and she'd no need for a big kitchen now that she no longer had to feed Ron and his bottomless pit of a stomach.
"I'd die for some." And Draco was telling the truth. It'd been months since he'd actually had real tea. He'd once been able to find a cup and an old tea bag. He'd asked to use the bathroom in one of the shops and he'd run the water until it was hot. He'd filled his cup and sat the tea bag in it. There wasn't much essence left in the bag, so the tea was very weak and there were no two lumps of sugar, as he usually had, but it was tea nonetheless.
"I don't see why you're living on the streets. You had very good scores on your NEWTs and you're smart. Why haven't you gotten a job?"
"Are you mocking me? Where would I get a job? No one wants to hire a former death eater, even if he isn't doing anything and even if he only killed two people so he wouldn't have to die. Even if he's lying in the streets every night in the cold. I never thought I'd end up like this. I'm too young. I'm not even thirty yet."
"I'm sorry for you-"
"Don't be! I didn't come here for pity." Draco yelled, then lowered his head. His voice startled him. It was louder when he was indoors compared to when he'd yell outdoors and the wind would carry his voice away.
"I thought you didn't know why you were here? Maybe you did come for pity."
"No. I guess I just thought maybe you'd offer me a meal and a little civilized company for the evening. Maybe even a real, warm bed for the night. It's supposed to rain later."
"Well, I do have that extra room and no one's using it." Hermione said this more to herself than to Draco. No one, especially a man, had stayed the night with Hermione since Ron died and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. But then she thought, he only wanted a meal and a bed. It would help him ... for a little while. "You can stay, but only until the rain stops. If it's not raining tomorrow night, you'll have to find somewhere else to go."
"I'm fine with that. If I'm lucky, no one will mess with that Lightfoot house until after winter and I'll have a place to stay and be dry."
"Let's hope." Hermone said, using her wand to hover the cup of tea to Draco, then turning back. "What would you like to eat?"
Draco had eaten his fill and was now sitting in clean clothing that Hermione had given him. The clothes had been Ron's, Draco knew this, but it didn't bother him as much as it would have years ago. He was just happy to have something that hadn't already been worn until it was falling apart. It wasn't something he'd transfigured.
Hermione was curled up in her favorite chair, sipping tea and continuing the book from the other evening. She wasn't sure what else to say to Draco. Usually, someone else was doing most of the talking and it was about why she didn't go out more and how she needed to get over Ron, but she doubted Draco would want to talk about those things. And she didn't really want to either. So, she stayed silent.
Midnight chimed and broke the stiff silence that had consumed the small room Hermione and Draco occupied. Hermione put her book down on the side table next to her empty cup that had held tea. She looked straight ahead in thought and then turned to Draco, who was staring at her and didn't turn his head in time so that she wouldn't see.
"I'm going to go to bed. I have a big day tomorrow."
"What's big about it?" Draco was curious and he also wondered if it would mean he'd have to leave first thing in the morning before he could have a shower and maybe a nice breakfast.
"I have to take a potion to St. Mungo's and they may buy it from me, if it works properly." She didn't sound as excited as Draco thought she should sound.
"That's good. What time will you be going?"
"Sometime after noon when the head healer will be there."
"Oh." Was all that came from Draco's mouth. It was more of a breath than an actual word.
Silence surrounded them once more, only to be broken by Hermione getting up and checking the locks on the doors and windows. When she finished, she stood near the entrance to the hallway. Draco took her meaning and followed her to the back room that he was to sleep in for the night.
They entered the dark room. Hermione lit a candle and sat it on the dresser next to the door. It suddenly burst with light and illuminated the entire room. Draco stared at the large comfortable bed that stood at the back of the room. There was a chair sitting on top of a round, braided rug. And a table with a modern-style lamp sitting on it that didn't seem to fit the room. He smiled back at her and thanked her. She nodded and closed the door behind her. Draco sat down and wondered what the strange feeling was that he'd gotten from the witch whom had just left him alone.
Hermione had settled herself in her bed and stared at the ceiling. She wasn't as happy as she thought she'd be about her potion. It would be a huge step towards a permenant cure, but it didn't excite her. Remus was gone, so he wouldn't be able to enjoy it and she didn't know any other werewolves personally. The werewolf she'd tested on was a lady who'd answered an ad Hermione had placed, so even though the lady was happy, she didn't know Hermione well enough to share it with her as Remus would have.
And Ron. Ron would have been so proud. He'd never really been into potions, but after the war when Hermione decided she wanted to work on potions fulltime, he'd been very supportive. He would bring her things she needed. Ingredients she didn't have and books on potion research. She felt so lost without him, now. There was almost no reason to wake up in the morning. After Ron died, she'd already made up her mind, but she had to get the potion created and finished before she could do it.
Hermione fell into a fitfull sleep.
A scream woke Draco out of his peaceful slumber. He'd almost fallen out of his bed because the sound had chilled him to the bone. It sounded as if someone was dying or in deep sorrowful pain. He'd thrown off his covers and raced out of his room.
Everything seemed quiet now. Draco walked over to Hermione's door and put his ear to it. He could hear the faint sound of shallow breathing and then a sob. He wondered what was going on. Had someone broken in? Had Hermione been in pain? He thought he should go back to bed and maybe mention it in the morning, but the scream echoed in his mind and it was still as chilling as when he'd first heard it. He pushed the door open.
Hermione's head quickly turned to the door and she immediately wiped the tears from her eyes, but Draco had already seen them. He walked slowly into the room, ready to stop and leave if she said so. She didn't. He continued and sat down next to her on the bed.
"What's wrong?"
Hermione looked at the concerned look on Draco's face. It looked so strange there. She was used to him looking mean, smug, or evilly happy, but never concerned. She wondered if she should share her torment with a wizard she barely even knew.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked again. He wasn't sure if she'd heard him the first time.
"I miss him." Hermione said in a barely audible voice, but Draco heard. And he knew whom she was speaking of.
"I know. It shows." Draco took a deep breath before continuing. "You're pale and you're starting to get as skinny as me. You used to be so happy, it made me sick. Your hair isn't as radiant as it used to be. You're letting your missing him, kill you."
Hermione didn't correct him because he was speaking the truth, more than he even knew.
"It almost hurts me to say this, but I'm the broken one and I'm trying not to let my situation break me any further, but you're letting yours break you completely ... and it's not even a bad situation. People die all the time. At least you know he loved you. Some people don't even have that."
"I know." Hermione gave a hollow chuckle. "I shouldn't ... you're sleeping out in the cold and ... I'm acting like ... I don't know what I'm acting like."
Suddenly, Hermione reached out and grabbed Draco around the waist. He was startled by the touch, but didn't pull away as Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. He realized she needed a little comforting and this wasn't much different from when his mother used to sit and lay his head in her lap and talk soothingly to him. He whispered a few words to her, knowing they probably didn't make any sense, but it seemed to be calming her. Her silent sobs were slowing and her shoulders had stopped jerking with her sniffling.
When she calmed down completely, she backed out of his arms. She looked into his eyes, as if searching for something she couldn't see anywhere else on his face. Draco sat there and allowed her to stare. He'd never really looked anyone in the eyes, afraid of what he'd see or what would be seen in his own.
"Kiss me, Draco."
The request came out of nowhere. Draco had barely seen Hermione's lips shape around the words before her lips landed on his. They felt like soft pillows. Satin pillows, that were firm, but not too much. He pressed his lips into hers, creating as much pressure as she was giving. The kiss lasted only seconds, but it would be burned into Draco's memory forever.
Hermione lowered her eyes as they seperated, not sure what had just overtaken her. Maybe it was just that she hadn't been kissed by a man since Ron died and she wanted to feel it again. To know it one last time. Then, her body seemed to take on a life of it's own. She reached out and pulled Draco's face down for a kiss again. This time there was more passion behind it and more wanting.
Before either of them knew it, Hermione was on her back and Draco was undressing over her. She didn't look into his eyes at first, but she felt his burning into hers and she couldn't help but look. Draco slowly lifted her shirt, an old shirt Ron used to wear while sitting around their old house, and spotted her plentiful breasts. He lowered his head to them and curiously tasted them, wondering if she'd suddenly sit up and make him leave. She moaned out and he figured she wanted this just as bad as he realized he wanted it.
Hermione, while Draco feasted at her bosom, snaked her arms down his body and tugged at his boxer shorts. Draco stopped what he was doing to help her pull them off. After they'd wrestled them off, she threw them blindly and they landed somewhere unknown in the dimly lit room. Hermione's moans rang out again as Draco kissed a path down her breast bone to the small thatch of hair covering her mound. When his tongue touch her, she felt as if she exploded. Ron had often touched her there, but he'd never done anything with his mouth. She was curious and excited about it.
She sat up on her elbows to see Draco's head working between her parted thighs, as if working a difficult instrument. She could feel the vibrations travel up and down her body, making her tremble, as if she was freezing. As his mouth moved more quickly she couldn't hold herself with her elbows, as they were weakening. She threw her head back in a sigh as her orgasm reached her and pulled her through it's process.
Draco watched Hermione's face transform with pleasure. Her breath quickened and got eerily shallow for a few moments. He held his breath for a few seconds, awaiting her to come down from her pleasurable trip.
Hermione, when she recovered, pulled Draco down to her for a kiss. He slipped his knee in between her legs as they battled with lips and their tongues. Hermione manuvered her hand down between them and guided him into her. Draco sunk into her and Hermione's eyes closed and her arms flew around his neck as he started a gentle rocking motion, taking them back and forth.
Hermione's earthy moans turned into screams of pleasure as Draco moved faster and with more determination. She let her eyes flutter open to see Draco's face. He seemed to be in a different world, though he was right there with her and his eyes were on hers. She quickly thought about the way the wizarding world was, now. No respectable woman would dare take him to bed, knowing the sort of rumors that would start. No, Draco probably hadn't been with a woman since the war. Hermione squeezed her muscles, creating more friction and Draco let out a hiss of breath.
Draco was the broken one, but right now, he felt anything but. He hadn't been close to a warm body since before the war and he'd convinced Pansy that they should spend the night together, as they might not ever get another chance. And they hadn't. During the war, Pansy was hit with an unforgivable and had been admitted into St. Mungo's where she resided right to this day. In a padded cell with nothing but her wild thoughts and sweet memories to keep her company.
Hermione could feel the end coming close and she wrapped her legs around Draco's hips, forcing him to go deeper and give more firm strokes. Her mouth fell open, spilling Draco's name from her lips. Her voice raspy with the screaming she'd been doing earlier. It'd been such a long time since her voice had gone even one octave above her normal range and her voice was showing it. Her throat felt incredibly dry and she wanted, no, needed something to drink.
Draco, feeling Hermione's orgasm led to his own. He rode on the waves of her aftershocks and came fiercly. It felt so good after all this time. He came to a rest and fell softly onto her. They could both hear the other's heart beating wildly, then calm to the normal resting rate. Draco rolled over and onto his back, feeling more sated than he had in a long time. He felt better than when he'd eaten hours ago. He'd even forgotten about the big breakfast he was going to ask for in the morning.
Both fell asleep peacefully. No bad dreams for Hermione Granger. Not ever again.
Draco awoke the next day and reached over for Hermione, but her bedside was cold. He sat up slowly, noticing a note on her pillow. He figured she'd gone out to buy something to prepare for breakfast or maybe she'd left early to go to her meeting. He leaned over and picked the note up to read. It also had another parchment connected to it, but he'd read it after he finished with the first note she'd left.
Draco,
Thank you for a night of pure bliss.
I haven't had one in a long time and it was beautiful.
You said you were the broken one, but I don't believe that.
The wizarding world is damaged right now, but it is getting better.
You'll find someone who will love you as I loved Ron. And I hope
you love her because you never know when love will leave you.
Cold and alone.
Attached to this letter is my potion for a temporary cure for
Lycanthropy. Please take it to St. Mungo's for me. I've already
owled them to let them know to expect you and why you'll be bringing
the cure in for me. I also wrote them and told them how great you were
in Potion's, too, and that you helped me with the creation. I know it's a lie,
but just read the ingredients and the procedure and you'll be able to fake it.
You've always been good at taking credit for things you didn't do.
I mean that in the best possible way.
They'll be interested in giving you a job. I hope you'll take it.
Finally, I came to realize that when you leave and take that cure to St. Mungo's
you will no longer be the broken one ... the broken one will be me.
Hermione Granger
Draco lifted the top note to look at the bottom one. It was indeed her instructions and ingredients to the potion she'd worked so hard on since Ron died. He still really didn't understand the letter. How could she feel she'll be the broken one? She'll have fame beyond her wildest dreams when this cure hit the shelves of St. Mungo's. Plus, she still had this beautiful house and friends and people who loved her. If he took the paper in, he'd have a job, he wouldn't be broken anymore. But what was Hermione talking about? How would she be broken?
Draco got up and went into the shower. He washed all the grim of the street off of him.
After his shower, he looked at himself in the mirror. It was like going back in time. As if none of the dreadful things had ever happened. He threw the old clothes he had of Ron's into Hermione's clothing hamper. He went to her room and found her closet. Half of it was still full of Ron's clothing. He took an outfit and dressed. He even took a pair of shoes and a tie. If he was going to go to St. Mungo's he couldn't look like a wizard who'd just come in off the streets.
Draco went into Hermione's kitchen and fixed him a small breakfast and then washed the dishes. He didn't know when Hermione would be back, but he didn't want her saying he'd left her place a mess. Since he figured she wouldn't need any of Ron's old clothes, he filled a bag with a few pants, sweaters, and shirts. It'd keep him supplied for the winter and maybe he'd come back and check in on Hermione. To make sure she was okay. He'd gotten a feeling that she wasn't as well as she made it seem.
Suddenly, he forgot his clothing in the back room. He put his bag down by the front door. He would get it on his way out. He walked through the silent house and opened the room's door only to be shocked.
Hermione was lying on the bed, a picture of Ron loosely clutched in one hand and Draco's shirt in the other. He looked around the room, an empty bottle of pills lay on the polished, wooden floor.
So, Hermione was the broken one after all.
A/N: So, a new one-shot. I was surprised because this came out of nowhere. I was listening to music and I just started typing. And this is the result. The end seemed a little sketchy, but probably because I'm sleepy. It's past midnight and I have to get up at eight in the morning, so I don't know why I'm still up. I'm about to go to bed. Good Night!
Review, why don't you?