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Hope After Fairytales
by: dani-chan3


She held back as they stepped over his body, deformed by the numerous curses and hexes they sent his way. Harry grinned at her, but instead of feeling blessed, she wondered how a supposed hero could be so merciless. Unforgiving. She found him disdainful after that.

Maybe he didn't really deserve that Bat Bogey Hex thrown at him the other time. He was just as trapped as she was by this impending war, by his family. So when Narcissa Malfoy climbed aboard, she pointed to where he lay disfigured. And she just managed to whisper out an apology which stuck at her throat a few times, catching a glimpse of the woman's sorrowful face. Had anyone ever seen the Ice Queen this way? She ran down the train, and into the warmth of her welcoming family.


There are many fairytales with princesses and evil witches.


The next school year, she was determined to know if there was more behind that wall of ice. His entire family was buried in it, and it seemed like no one ever even bothered to try and see through it. She would have to dig him out. He would resist, of course, but how could she turn her back on this when he looked so, so tired? As if he needed someone to take him away from all this. As if he needed her.


With their locked-up towers.


He's failing his classes, she heard Hermione complaining. She said she missed having to compete with.

Even his glamour charms got worse each day. Of course she knew what glamour charms would look like on a face. Hadn't she done the very same, only in her first year? He had faint, dark circles under the eyes which seemed to cross paths with her own, each time they were within range of each other. Eyes which were partially covered by his ungelled, unkept hair. It was amazing, really, to the point of absurd, how it gave him a softer look, making it easier to believe he was human after all.


And menacing dragons.


At first, she would flinch at his gaze, expecting the usual insults. Maybe a hex or two would be thrown her way. Didn't Slytherins always have their revenge?

But when she received none of those, a point in the school year came (although she could not determine when that point was, exactly) when she got used to his penetrating eyes. It was a steady gaze, taking in every part of her and more. It's funny how she didn't feel violated, as she usually would. She would have returned it, if only she was as brave as she seemed to be when she was at the Department of Mysteries. But she turned her own sights onto other people, to distract her from him.

Maybe she shouldnt dig into such matters after all.


With their heroes and their Happily Ever Afters.


But he would not relinquish the hold his eyes had on her. She could feel it on her, each time she entered a room he was in.

He wasn't even wearing glamor charms anymore. He looked terrible, and she itched to hold him in his arms, even as she hung onto Harry's.


But what happens when the "The End" sign has come and gone?


There was that thrill that came with each gaze - the fluttering of those cliched butterflies in her belly (which tightened at the sight of him), the shiver that wracked her body (it was never cold at those moments), the way she could hear her heartbeat in her ears (and feel it pounding in her veins).

It didn't come from Harry. So while she mourned Harry's choice to stand alone when he needed someone in these dark times, she was also faintly relieved.


When the screen finally blacks out?


She was being ordained into the Order. She was only sixteen, but she wanted this. The Order needed this. So together with the Golden Trio, a few other trustworthy, seventeen year old students from Hogwarts, she rose from her knees and stood as a warrior. And as she let down the hood of her robes, a gasp and a scream echoed in the room.

One of the new members of the Order was crowned with a mane so golden, it was almost white.

Draco set his sights on her yet again, and there was nothing left to do but return the steadiness of his gaze. It seemed that fate wanted her to dig him up from his proverbial hellhole.


And we are left to stumble in the dark, to plunge on head first into the perils of the unknown, with our sights set only on that invisible light of hope.


He burst into the room - his eyes were wild, his hair had leaves in it, and his robes were in a complete disarray. His eyes met hers in an instant with an different kind of intensity, an urgency, that was still to go unparalleled. She could feel his eyes probing into her soul, reaching for her at that moment across the few feet that separated them from one another. She could feel her own body responding to his need, crying out to hin.

She could have sworn that the world stopped at that moment.


How did it all come to this?


She lay there in her bed, on the third floor of Grimmauld Place. She lay there naked, her whole being bared for the world to see. But she was not alone.

Her world lay there beside her, head propped up with one hand, and the other twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers. He seemed amazed by the way its color danced in the candlelight, with the shadows the faint light threw around the room. His eyes burned with a light. How can you bare your whole self to one person and expect them to accept each part of you? How can you expect them to bear the whole weight of your humanity on their shoulders?

How can it be that our lives do not belong to ourselves anymore? It was taken from us by a simple

"You have me."

Her heart had pounded so hard, she was sure he could hear it. She hoped his pounded, too, with all the strength of her own. But do not hope with a Slytherin.

"Do you mean that? You're only afraid of tomorrow. But it's alright, Draco. I'll hold you anyway."

He didn't say anything more after that. And although she would never admit it, because it was foolish to expect anything from him, his silence hurt more than anything. She wanted him to tell her that he did mean it.


How did it come to be that we are now abandoned? Like orphans on the street, or unwanted pups left in a cardboard box. There is no one left to guide us or tell us it will be all alright.


She caught up with him, a second before he apparated away with Snape to receive his mark. She pulled him away, thankful that no one but Snape was there to look suspiciously at her, as she pulled him away for a brief, frenzied, whispered conference.

"You're leaving."
"You do know, of course, that we can't let anyone find out about..."
"Last night. Yes, I know."

And he touched her face tenderly, as if he cared. She spared a glance at Snape, despite the wave of emotions rolling over her. He had an expression on his face similar to the one she witnessed on Narcissa Malfoy's over a year ago. Draco turned her face back to him, and she bit her lip in an unsuccessful attempt to try and curb her tears.

"We hope for the best, but we cannot say it will turn out alright."

She looked down, her tears falling onto their shoes, so close together. She wished he would not be so blunt, so fatalistic, so realistic sometimes.

"Say it will be. Say you will be for me."
"I will be forced to make a lot of decisions, do many things for the sake of this war. But I will not be forced to lie to you."
"Draco..."

I cry out his name, my fists making red, half-mooned marks in my palms.

"Do you want me to lie?"

Haltingly, increasingly aware of his hand caressing her cheek, of her heart racing in time with the rhythm and pattern her tears made on their shoes and on the floor, of Snape observing them sorrowfully, she reached up to put her hands on his chest, fiddling with the clasp of his dark, dark robes. Dark as the night and as the times they were in.

"Do you want me to lie? Everything will turn out fine."


No one would dare to tell us it will turn out fine.


She whimpered, and started to move away. But he grabbed her and shook her, his hands digging into her upper arms. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to tell him what she needed to tell him now, before everything was lost. Couldn't bear to look at a face she wasn't sure she'd see again.

"Listen to me, last night..."

A deep intake of breath. Their shoes, the floor, was stained a darker color with her tears. Each drop to the floor seemed abnormally loud, even as she tried to hold it all in.

"I'm not afraid of today, or of tomorrow."

She looked at him then, unable to control the wracking sobs that tore themselves from her chest. Through her tears that made it hard to see, she savored the darkness of his eyes that shone with a light for her alone, the line of his jaw that she could trace in her sleep, the shades of the hair she run her hands through as they made love, and the faintly pink, thin lips that had worshipped her body.

"What I'm afraid of..."

He enveloped her in a hug, knocking the breath out of her. But she held back just as tightly, feeling lost. And he pulled back to wipe away her tears, as she had done with the lone one the dropped out of his pained silver orbs.


We are all alone.


"Is that I might have not the chance to spend it with you."


We have no one left to hold. Nothing to keep to ourselves. Nothing to hold sacred, nowhere to keep it all safe.


"He's a Death Eater! He betrayed the Order! HE'S RESPONSIBLE FOR PROFESSOR SNAPE'S DEATH!"

The world spins, and she can't breath. Let it all stop, she prays. She prays for grey. Shades of grey between the grisly white and black of fairytales. Shades of grey in dark mercury orbs that swirl with desire for her.

"But what if he's like Severus? Remember, we thought Severus a traitor too, Harry. But he killed Albus on Albus' orders."
"HOW CAN YOU BE ON HIS SIDE, ARTHUR!"


Oh, Harry, she pleads silently, her eyes tightly shut. And even as she fainted, she thought: Open your eyes.


No one is safe or free in a war.


"I'm pregnant, daddy. Draco's the daddy."

Oh, Draco. I hope you're okay. I hope you're out there somewhere, fighting for me and this baby. And she wonders if he meant what he last said, and she drowns in despair because there is a large possibility that he might not have meant it after all.


No one is stronger than the other, or safer than the other.


She would not allow them to coddle her. She refused to stay at Grimmauld, and insisted on continuing in joining the battle. After all, what use was there in keeping her and child safe, if they were simply to mourn Draco's inexistence in their life?

They wouldn't be completely safe in Hogwarts, under Madame Pomfrey's caring eye, either. No place is safe.

She stood up, and apparated to the battle grounds.


The only defense we have in this war is our courage, the strength of our hearts.


"Didn't you ssay that you LAY with thisss one, Draco?"
"Yes, my Lord."

This snake is disgusting with his too raw, red skin. With his burning, unmerciful, and unholy eyes of yellow. With his words dragging through the air, too concise and unfeeling. He has a laugh that has no trace of mirth in it. It made her grimace, with it's coldness, and with the hissing sounds it spouted.

"Tell me Drraco, did sshe mean anything to you?"

He risked a glance at her that He did not miss.

"No, my Lord."
"Becausse I think that that iss yourr child inssside herr."

The snake turned an upside-down frown on him. A smile that was not, a smile that made his insides turn, and his head pound.

He knew what He was going to ask of him. And for once, in all these dark times of despair, he dared to hope that he would not be so predictable.

But this is a war, Draco.

"Torrrrture the girrl."


The only safe haven we have are our hearts, and the hearts of the ones we share our own with.


She put a protective hand over her swollen belly. She knew Draco would not hurt her. He meant what he said, he meant what he said. She chanted it over and over again in her head, as he nodded his assent to his Lord's orders, as he slowly walked over to her, as he took off his skull mask to stare her in the eye.

There was a flicker of something there that she couldn't understand. But it turned cold and unfeeling. And the sight of it made her blood crawl. Perhaps she wanted to live, after all. With his face grave and with his hand trembling, she could almost believe he was prolonging it in hopes of saving her. But Death Eaters prolong torture.

Oh, Draco. His eyes were tired again. So, so tired. Like they were two years ago. Has it been almost two years, Draco? His eyes were missing the light they shone with when they had made the life inside her.


Happily Ever Afters do not exist in that place where we venture into when the screen has gone black.


He cast the Cruciatus on her, but the hurt of his betrayal pained her more than the curse did. Perhaps a Dementor would have done more damage. Oh, Merlin. She could feel their child, writhing in pain inside as well. My poor baby.

Her vision was dimming, but she could faintly register members of the Order springing out from their hiding places. She tried to open her eyes further, to murmur his name. She couldn't see him. She wanted to see her Draco. What was hers, should stay safe with her.

She prayed, some sort of god was sure to answer the hope that somehow remained in the midst of a war. Do not harm him as he harmed me.


We are caught in the darkness. Who will save us now?


The darkness was overwhelming.

She could feel him sobbing in relief for her, and in pain as he cast curses on his Death Eater comrades. Oh, please, please be alright. Please be over, I want my baby to be alright.


But still, there is hope.


It was so hard to fight. So hard to stay safe and to be alright. But she could somehow hear him whisper: I love you, red.


And she held on.


There are many fairytales with princesses and evil witches With their locked-up towers And menacing dragons. With their heroes and their Happily Ever Afters.

But what happens when the "The End" sign has come and gone? When the screen finally blacks out? And we are left to stumble in the dark, to plunge on head first into the perils of the unknown, with our sights set only on that invisible light of hope.

How did it all come to this? How did it come to be that we are now abandoned? Like orphans on the street, or unwanted pups left in a cardboard box. There is no one left to guide us or tell us it will be all alright.

No one would dare to tell us it will turn out fine.

We are all alone. We have no one left to hold. Nothing to keep to ourselves. Nothing to hold sacred, nowhere to keep it all safe. No one is safe or free in a war. No one is stronger than the other, or safer than the other.

The only defense we have in this war is our courage, the strength of our hearts. The only safe haven we have are our hearts, and the hearts of the ones we share our own with.

Happily Ever Afters do not exist in that place where we venture into when the screen has gone black. We are caught in the darkness. Who will save us now?

But still, there is hope.