It was quite a surprise to see him after all this time. After our graduation at Hogwarts, I'd never expected to see him again. However, there he was, in the Three Broomsticks, sipping a mug of butterbeer, casually looknig around the small pub, watching everything that moved, listening to anything that made a sound. Of course, to the normal eye, it would look as though Draco Malfoy was simply enjoying the lightly lit atomsphere of the small cafe.
But I knew much better than that.
"Butterbeer, please," I requested of the waitress behind the counter. Rosimeretta was long gone from this place, she'd left three years after I had graduated, but had appointed a good friend of hers to run the pub in her absense. Back in those days, mostly everyone fled from the magical world and into the muggle realm. Fresh out of Hogwarts, I and my two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley decided to train as Aurors to help fight off Voldemort and his legion of Deatheaters. All seven years at Hogwarts we three had faced his wrath over and over again, but nothing compaired to what we experienced for hte next nine years of our lives. The things that we went through in those 3,285 days of war are things that I wouldn't wish on anyone, not even my blond counterpart over there...of course, Draco was instrumental in the Light Sides defeat of Voldemort.
I took my butterbeer that had arrived a few moments ago and took a slow sip. So far, a year of peace had gone by, with Auror PeaceKeepers making sure that obnoxious pureblood witches and wizards didn't start anymore trouble. My gaze once more flew to Draco. For nine years, I really hadn't trusted him. In fact, the only person who did seem to believe him was Dumbledore. Whatever happened between Malfoy and the old Headmaster of Hogwarts still remains a mystery, even more so, now that the greatest wizard of our time is dead. It was year five when Dumbledore fell to Voldemort. He was...he was just so old, so weak. I was surprised he lasted as long as he did actually, even though I should not have been.
Well, it seems as though Malfoy has decided to make it known to me that he knows I'm here. Finally. Picking up my own beverage, I casually made my way over to the two person table that Draco was occupying, taking the time to smile and greet others that I knew before I reached my destination. As I came up to the table, Draco eyed me, a look was on his face that I couldn't really at the moment. Usually, the only expressions I saw on his pale, pointed features was either anger or arrogance. Neither was there at the moment though. For a brief period of time, I stood there, and he sat there, and we both sipped our drinks in silence.
Finally, I heard an obnoxiously annoying sigh and I looked down. Draco was looking up at me, platinum eyebrows raised, an expression of impatence plastered on his face. "Well," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him, "are you just going to stand there, or are you going to sit down?"
I gave him a once over, looked around the bar, and then nodded my head slightly, pulling out the chair and easing myself into it. "Don't mind if I do," I answered, giving him a somewhat tight smile. Afterall, he and I had been enimies for at least seven years before the war. If Ron were here, he'd say, "Might as well keep a good thing going." It was true, Malfoy and I had many problems and disagreements to sort out. Tonight would be the beginning of that process. It's not like I want Malfoy to be my best friend, I've already got...well, I was going to say two, but I've actually only got one now...
"So," I started off, wanting to get away from the latter thoughts, "how have you been, Malfoy?"
He looked over at me, a funny little look on his face. One side of his lip was curled up, his eyebrows were furrowed. I could almost hear Hermiones voice saying, "Speak up little ferret!" Malfoy took another sip of his butterbeer andthen answered, "Not that you care, I am sure, but I have been doing rather well."
I nodded, taking another sip of my drink. "Glad to hear it."
Again, the funny look.
"What do you want, Potter?" I looked up from my drink at him. He was staring out the window, casual as he could be, but I saw the underlying suspecion in his narrow eyes. Couldn't really blame him. After all, we'd never exactly been brothers. I decided to get right to the point.
"I want whatever animosity, whatever tension that was or still is between us to go away." There, I'd said it.
Draco just looked at me for a while. He ran a finger along his jawline, scratched an area behind his ear. Finally, he positioned himself full front, right foot resting upon his left knee, arms crossed and said, "I'm sorry. You want what?"
I groaned. I should've known he wasn't going to make this a walk in the park. Sliding my drink aside, I leaned forward. "Listen Malfoy. For the past 17 years, we've loathed eachother, and for what? The first seven years, I knew why I hated you. But we have been on the same side for 10 years now, and there is still hatred there. I want that to go away. I'm tired of fighting with you."
Well, I didn't know how I could put it any plainer. I continued to look at him, watching his reaction. At present, he was looking out the window, at the snow covered walkways of Hogsmeade. When he turned his attention on me again, I could tell I was in for a very long discussion indeed.
"It's a little late to grant Hermione her dearest wish, isn't it Potter?"
My heart skipped a beat. My breathing caught in my throat. I hadn't expected that, not by any means. But I should have. Draco is a Malfoy, and Malfoy's play dirty. I shook my head at him.
"This has nothing to do with Hermione, Malfoy." I told him, gritting my teeth a little as I spoke. Draco knew that Hermione was a touchy subject for me, almost as touchy as it was for him, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
"Oh, I think it has alot, if not everything, to do with her," Malfoy was now leaning forward, hands steepled on the table, elbows resting comfortably on the wooden surface. "I think you feel so guilty about her death tha tyou want to make amends now. Well, it's to late for that, Potter." He leaned back in his seat and looked away from me. I could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. "It's to late," he muttered once more. Now I leaned forward; I wasn't about to give up so quickly.
"You're right in one respect, Malfoy," I said. He looked at me, an air of triumph around him. "I do feel guilty for Hermiones death. I should have been there to prevent it, I should have been quicker," I locked my green eyes with his grey ones, "but you're wrong about the fact that I'm trying to make amends because she died, because you say it happened to be her 'dearest wish'. I want all of this solved so that I can move on with my life, and so that you can also, believe it or not."
The expression of triumph on Malfoys face faded slowly to surprise. I leaned back and crossed my ankles and rested my hands on my stomach. I looked at him as if to say, 'your move'.
My move. I suppose I've been waiting for this moment since Hermione died, to tell Potter what I really think of him. Somehow though, I don't think that will much matter to him. It hasn't before. But he should know one thing.
"It's becoming quite stuffy in here," I said, getting up suddenly and putting a few sickles on the table. I headed towards the door, not bothering to look behind me to see if Potter was following me. HE sought ME out afterall, why shouldn't he come after me?
I passed through the doors of the Three Broomsticks, into the white colored street. A light snow had begun to fall earlier in the day. Now, it covered the rooftops, the windowsills, and the trees and bushes of Hogsmeade. Footprints were seen in the five inch thick snow. Children walked with thier parents in and out of shops, carrying huge bags and packages.
I felt Potter's presense beside me, waiting for me to go forward. At least he wasn't being pushy about this. Oh well, might as well get this chat over with as soon as possible. I looked up at the starfilled heavens above. There was Beetlegeuse, Hermiones favorite star. She loved it because of the brilliant sparkles of red that it gave off. One of her house colors.
*Only for you, Hermione*
"You weren't there when Hermione was killed. I suppose you'll want to know what happened." I gave Potter a side long glance. He clasped his black gloved hands behind his back, and I caught a nervous flicker of green eyes towards the ground. "I read the report," he answered quietly. "So did I, and what was written there wasn't half of what had happened, Potter. Take it from me. I had to watch the whole thing."
I cleared my throat. One thing that Malfoy's did not do was talk about a loved ones death.
And Hermione was most assuredly one of them.
"You know that Hermione, along with two other Aurors were captured by my father. Lucius had known by the third year of the war that I had deserted Voldemort and the Deatheaters. He was kind enough to send me an owl, telling me the next time he glimpsed me, he would have a surprise for me in the form of an unforgivable curse." I held my hand out to catch some flakes of snow before I continued.
"In the seventh year of the war, Deatheater spies had discovered that Hermione and I had a...rather close relationship with eachother. I recieved yet another owl from my father, but this time, the paper was blank. However, the message was loud and clear. He was proving to me that he could find me anywhere, anytime." I withdrew my hand to my side and stopped walking, turning to face Potter, and he did the same. I cut to the chase.
"What the report didn't mention was the fact that the two Aurors that were with Hermione were infact spies for Voldemort. They led her straight into my fathers hands." I paused to let this sink in, and to gather my thoughts as well. I knew what the next question would be out of Potters mouth.
"Why was that not stated in the final report?"
See, predictable Harry Potter is...I cleared my throat.
"Our wonderful Minister of Magic at the time was not convinced of my loyalty to the Light. That and the fact that not one, but two of Voldemorts people had been allowed to train as Aurors. Those two knew everything about both sides; weapons, base locations, codes...if word had gotten out to the public that two deatheaters had been trained as Aurors, it wouldn't have reflected very well on the Ministers administration." I blinked my eyes, then continued on into another pub, the Leaky Cauldron. The cafe was somewhat busy, but I managed to make my way through the door and to a small table in a sparcly lighted area of the pub.
I sat down, and a few moments later, Potter was doing the same. A waitress immediately came to our table. "Red Current Rum," I ordered, looking to Potter for him to order as well. "I'll have the same, please," he requested. I arched an eyebrow at him.
"Saint Potter going for something stronger than Butterbeer?" His response was that of a small grin. "After the past ten years, Malfoy, it would be difficult to call me a Saint." The grin on his face fell to a small frown, and his eyes looked to the table top. There was an uncomfortable silence between us until the drinks arrived. I thanked the waitress, Potter doing the same, and when she had gone, took a sip of my drink.
"How did she die?"
I set my drink on the table and circled the rim of the glass with my finger, not looking at Potter for a long time. When I finally answered, even I could hear my voice croak slighty.
"Honorably." That was the only way I could think of to describe it. Because she had died honorably.
"Back when we were at Hogwarts, I would have never dreamed that there was such a resilient young woman in her. Oh, I knew she was stubborn," I explained, seeing Potters expression of awe and slight ammusement. "Yes, I knew she was stubborn. But I must say that in the face of Lucius Malfoy, I would have thought that she would have crumbled under any circustances. I was proven wrong...with a terrible price, but never the less, I was still proven wrong." I downed the rest of my alcohol in one gulp and rested the glass on the table.
"You really want me to explain how she was killed?" I asked. Potter nodded his head, and I did the same with mine.
"Lucius was Voldemorts right hand. He was in that position for a reason. He knew how to get what he wanted from people, and he knew what to do with them afterwards. But Hermione...Hermione simply would not give in. She wouldn't tell him anything, wouldn't show any fear or anger towards him. She showed nothing. Her face was stone. If there was one thing in the world that Lucius hated the most, it was not getting what he wanted, and being slapped in the face afterwards." I allowed a small smile at that thought. "You see, everyone always bowed down to Lucius Malfoy. My mother, myself, our other family members, and of course the servants...but when Hermione refused to give him that satisfaction..." He clicked my tongue against my teeth. "He didn't take it so well."
I saw Potter swallow and nod his head. "What did he do to her?"
"He tortured her. For hours at a time. Crutio, Imperio, whipping, beating, verbal abuse, threats...hot irons..." I winced at the last device. That was the one that I had been there for, when I had gone in with a team to get Hermione out. "I had been captured, and brought to the same cell as Hermione." I circled my finger around my glass, thinking, going back as I spoke. "He used me against her. Nearly killed me, if I remember correctly..." I looked up at Potter, who, I knew had not taken his eyes off of me since I had begun to speak, "and she still would not say a word."
"What was his final blow?" I could barely hear Potter as he asked his question. His face was almost haunted looking, as though he were inwardly attacking himself for not knowing all of these things. A small part of me took pleasure in that, but a larger part merely felt sympathy for him. When I answered, my voice was as low and haunting as Potters was.
"The Cructatious Curse can only be administired so many times..." I clenched my fist that was resting on my lap and took my finger away from the glass which it had been circling, knowing that I had the strength to break it at this point.
As I sat there, listening to Malfoy recall what had happened the night Hermione died, I felt my tears fall freely down my wintry rosy cheeks. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she must have gone through in her last days.
"Well, I must say, I have never seen you cry before, Potter." Malfoys voice broke through my thoughts, and I quickly put a hand up to my eyes, wiping the tears away. "S'alright," Draco continued, watching me closely, "I cried enough tears that night for the both of us. With my father watching and laughing." I took a deep breath, the memories and feelings beginning to overwhelm me.
"Bloody bastard even taunted her in her death."
My eyes rose to meet Malfoys, and I could have sworn that in those stormy grey eyes of his, I could see a little rain begin to fall. We both remained quiet for a while, just sitting at a table in a bar, occasionally glancing at one another. There came a point though, when I could stand it no longer.
"Do you blame yourself for her death as well?"
Malfoy looked at me, an obvious expression in his eyes. "Does Weasley have a temper to beat out all menopausal women?" he asked dryly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You wanted something of truce between the two of us, correct?"
I nodded my head.
"For Hermiones sake, I think that can be arranged." He held up a finger quickly. "However, that does not mean that you and I are the best of friends, Potter."
"I'm not asking for friendship from you, Malfoy," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest. "Just a cease-fire." The blond nodded, looking away and crossing his own arms as well. Once again, silence reigned between us.
"You know, I really did love her, despite what you and Weasley may think."
I looked up at him, surprised that he'd said that. He didn't look at me, just over my shoulder, so that it would look like he was looking at me.
"I know you did. And I think Ron does too. Believe it or not, he can be more stubborn than Hermione ever could be sometimes...but that was just the way he was. He warmed up to it, after a time." Actually, the warmest Ron ever got about the idea of Hermione and Draco together paralleled an eskimo freezing in the Arctic Ocean. But I wasn't about to say that to Malfoy.
And I didn't have to.
"You'd think after 17 years, you'd learn to tell a decent lie, Potter." A smirk was just touching the corners of Malfoys mouth and I shook my head in ammusement.
"What are you doing?"
He looked at me.
"I'm sitting here, my arms crossed over my chest, trying not to freeze in this bloody rediculous weather, Potter. What are you doing?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. "I think I'm going to visit Hermione." With that, I got up, straightening my cloak and looking down at him. "Would you like to join me?" He didn't answer me and after a few moments, I nodded. "Alright then. Have a good night, Malfoy, I'll see you at work tomorrow." I tightened my scarf around my neck and turned from him, heading for the door.
As I walked out of the Leaky Caulron, I looked up into the clear night sky, watching the stars dance thier twinkling dance. It was still snowing, though it was slowing down, and carolers were beginning to make thier rounds. I felt someone brush by me, but I paid no attention, only continued to watch the sky.
"Well, are you going to stand there all night like an idiot, or are you coming along?"
I leveled my gaze at Malfoy, who was standing in the middle of the street, his hands in his pockets, looking at me with an expression that clearly let me know that he thought I was the slowest thing on Earth. However, I nodded my head and walked up to him. "I suppose I'll tag along."
And together, we walked to Hermiones gravesite.
But I knew much better than that.
"Butterbeer, please," I requested of the waitress behind the counter. Rosimeretta was long gone from this place, she'd left three years after I had graduated, but had appointed a good friend of hers to run the pub in her absense. Back in those days, mostly everyone fled from the magical world and into the muggle realm. Fresh out of Hogwarts, I and my two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley decided to train as Aurors to help fight off Voldemort and his legion of Deatheaters. All seven years at Hogwarts we three had faced his wrath over and over again, but nothing compaired to what we experienced for hte next nine years of our lives. The things that we went through in those 3,285 days of war are things that I wouldn't wish on anyone, not even my blond counterpart over there...of course, Draco was instrumental in the Light Sides defeat of Voldemort.
I took my butterbeer that had arrived a few moments ago and took a slow sip. So far, a year of peace had gone by, with Auror PeaceKeepers making sure that obnoxious pureblood witches and wizards didn't start anymore trouble. My gaze once more flew to Draco. For nine years, I really hadn't trusted him. In fact, the only person who did seem to believe him was Dumbledore. Whatever happened between Malfoy and the old Headmaster of Hogwarts still remains a mystery, even more so, now that the greatest wizard of our time is dead. It was year five when Dumbledore fell to Voldemort. He was...he was just so old, so weak. I was surprised he lasted as long as he did actually, even though I should not have been.
Well, it seems as though Malfoy has decided to make it known to me that he knows I'm here. Finally. Picking up my own beverage, I casually made my way over to the two person table that Draco was occupying, taking the time to smile and greet others that I knew before I reached my destination. As I came up to the table, Draco eyed me, a look was on his face that I couldn't really at the moment. Usually, the only expressions I saw on his pale, pointed features was either anger or arrogance. Neither was there at the moment though. For a brief period of time, I stood there, and he sat there, and we both sipped our drinks in silence.
Finally, I heard an obnoxiously annoying sigh and I looked down. Draco was looking up at me, platinum eyebrows raised, an expression of impatence plastered on his face. "Well," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him, "are you just going to stand there, or are you going to sit down?"
I gave him a once over, looked around the bar, and then nodded my head slightly, pulling out the chair and easing myself into it. "Don't mind if I do," I answered, giving him a somewhat tight smile. Afterall, he and I had been enimies for at least seven years before the war. If Ron were here, he'd say, "Might as well keep a good thing going." It was true, Malfoy and I had many problems and disagreements to sort out. Tonight would be the beginning of that process. It's not like I want Malfoy to be my best friend, I've already got...well, I was going to say two, but I've actually only got one now...
"So," I started off, wanting to get away from the latter thoughts, "how have you been, Malfoy?"
He looked over at me, a funny little look on his face. One side of his lip was curled up, his eyebrows were furrowed. I could almost hear Hermiones voice saying, "Speak up little ferret!" Malfoy took another sip of his butterbeer andthen answered, "Not that you care, I am sure, but I have been doing rather well."
I nodded, taking another sip of my drink. "Glad to hear it."
Again, the funny look.
"What do you want, Potter?" I looked up from my drink at him. He was staring out the window, casual as he could be, but I saw the underlying suspecion in his narrow eyes. Couldn't really blame him. After all, we'd never exactly been brothers. I decided to get right to the point.
"I want whatever animosity, whatever tension that was or still is between us to go away." There, I'd said it.
Draco just looked at me for a while. He ran a finger along his jawline, scratched an area behind his ear. Finally, he positioned himself full front, right foot resting upon his left knee, arms crossed and said, "I'm sorry. You want what?"
I groaned. I should've known he wasn't going to make this a walk in the park. Sliding my drink aside, I leaned forward. "Listen Malfoy. For the past 17 years, we've loathed eachother, and for what? The first seven years, I knew why I hated you. But we have been on the same side for 10 years now, and there is still hatred there. I want that to go away. I'm tired of fighting with you."
Well, I didn't know how I could put it any plainer. I continued to look at him, watching his reaction. At present, he was looking out the window, at the snow covered walkways of Hogsmeade. When he turned his attention on me again, I could tell I was in for a very long discussion indeed.
"It's a little late to grant Hermione her dearest wish, isn't it Potter?"
My heart skipped a beat. My breathing caught in my throat. I hadn't expected that, not by any means. But I should have. Draco is a Malfoy, and Malfoy's play dirty. I shook my head at him.
"This has nothing to do with Hermione, Malfoy." I told him, gritting my teeth a little as I spoke. Draco knew that Hermione was a touchy subject for me, almost as touchy as it was for him, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
"Oh, I think it has alot, if not everything, to do with her," Malfoy was now leaning forward, hands steepled on the table, elbows resting comfortably on the wooden surface. "I think you feel so guilty about her death tha tyou want to make amends now. Well, it's to late for that, Potter." He leaned back in his seat and looked away from me. I could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. "It's to late," he muttered once more. Now I leaned forward; I wasn't about to give up so quickly.
"You're right in one respect, Malfoy," I said. He looked at me, an air of triumph around him. "I do feel guilty for Hermiones death. I should have been there to prevent it, I should have been quicker," I locked my green eyes with his grey ones, "but you're wrong about the fact that I'm trying to make amends because she died, because you say it happened to be her 'dearest wish'. I want all of this solved so that I can move on with my life, and so that you can also, believe it or not."
The expression of triumph on Malfoys face faded slowly to surprise. I leaned back and crossed my ankles and rested my hands on my stomach. I looked at him as if to say, 'your move'.
My move. I suppose I've been waiting for this moment since Hermione died, to tell Potter what I really think of him. Somehow though, I don't think that will much matter to him. It hasn't before. But he should know one thing.
"It's becoming quite stuffy in here," I said, getting up suddenly and putting a few sickles on the table. I headed towards the door, not bothering to look behind me to see if Potter was following me. HE sought ME out afterall, why shouldn't he come after me?
I passed through the doors of the Three Broomsticks, into the white colored street. A light snow had begun to fall earlier in the day. Now, it covered the rooftops, the windowsills, and the trees and bushes of Hogsmeade. Footprints were seen in the five inch thick snow. Children walked with thier parents in and out of shops, carrying huge bags and packages.
I felt Potter's presense beside me, waiting for me to go forward. At least he wasn't being pushy about this. Oh well, might as well get this chat over with as soon as possible. I looked up at the starfilled heavens above. There was Beetlegeuse, Hermiones favorite star. She loved it because of the brilliant sparkles of red that it gave off. One of her house colors.
*Only for you, Hermione*
"You weren't there when Hermione was killed. I suppose you'll want to know what happened." I gave Potter a side long glance. He clasped his black gloved hands behind his back, and I caught a nervous flicker of green eyes towards the ground. "I read the report," he answered quietly. "So did I, and what was written there wasn't half of what had happened, Potter. Take it from me. I had to watch the whole thing."
I cleared my throat. One thing that Malfoy's did not do was talk about a loved ones death.
And Hermione was most assuredly one of them.
"You know that Hermione, along with two other Aurors were captured by my father. Lucius had known by the third year of the war that I had deserted Voldemort and the Deatheaters. He was kind enough to send me an owl, telling me the next time he glimpsed me, he would have a surprise for me in the form of an unforgivable curse." I held my hand out to catch some flakes of snow before I continued.
"In the seventh year of the war, Deatheater spies had discovered that Hermione and I had a...rather close relationship with eachother. I recieved yet another owl from my father, but this time, the paper was blank. However, the message was loud and clear. He was proving to me that he could find me anywhere, anytime." I withdrew my hand to my side and stopped walking, turning to face Potter, and he did the same. I cut to the chase.
"What the report didn't mention was the fact that the two Aurors that were with Hermione were infact spies for Voldemort. They led her straight into my fathers hands." I paused to let this sink in, and to gather my thoughts as well. I knew what the next question would be out of Potters mouth.
"Why was that not stated in the final report?"
See, predictable Harry Potter is...I cleared my throat.
"Our wonderful Minister of Magic at the time was not convinced of my loyalty to the Light. That and the fact that not one, but two of Voldemorts people had been allowed to train as Aurors. Those two knew everything about both sides; weapons, base locations, codes...if word had gotten out to the public that two deatheaters had been trained as Aurors, it wouldn't have reflected very well on the Ministers administration." I blinked my eyes, then continued on into another pub, the Leaky Cauldron. The cafe was somewhat busy, but I managed to make my way through the door and to a small table in a sparcly lighted area of the pub.
I sat down, and a few moments later, Potter was doing the same. A waitress immediately came to our table. "Red Current Rum," I ordered, looking to Potter for him to order as well. "I'll have the same, please," he requested. I arched an eyebrow at him.
"Saint Potter going for something stronger than Butterbeer?" His response was that of a small grin. "After the past ten years, Malfoy, it would be difficult to call me a Saint." The grin on his face fell to a small frown, and his eyes looked to the table top. There was an uncomfortable silence between us until the drinks arrived. I thanked the waitress, Potter doing the same, and when she had gone, took a sip of my drink.
"How did she die?"
I set my drink on the table and circled the rim of the glass with my finger, not looking at Potter for a long time. When I finally answered, even I could hear my voice croak slighty.
"Honorably." That was the only way I could think of to describe it. Because she had died honorably.
"Back when we were at Hogwarts, I would have never dreamed that there was such a resilient young woman in her. Oh, I knew she was stubborn," I explained, seeing Potters expression of awe and slight ammusement. "Yes, I knew she was stubborn. But I must say that in the face of Lucius Malfoy, I would have thought that she would have crumbled under any circustances. I was proven wrong...with a terrible price, but never the less, I was still proven wrong." I downed the rest of my alcohol in one gulp and rested the glass on the table.
"You really want me to explain how she was killed?" I asked. Potter nodded his head, and I did the same with mine.
"Lucius was Voldemorts right hand. He was in that position for a reason. He knew how to get what he wanted from people, and he knew what to do with them afterwards. But Hermione...Hermione simply would not give in. She wouldn't tell him anything, wouldn't show any fear or anger towards him. She showed nothing. Her face was stone. If there was one thing in the world that Lucius hated the most, it was not getting what he wanted, and being slapped in the face afterwards." I allowed a small smile at that thought. "You see, everyone always bowed down to Lucius Malfoy. My mother, myself, our other family members, and of course the servants...but when Hermione refused to give him that satisfaction..." He clicked my tongue against my teeth. "He didn't take it so well."
I saw Potter swallow and nod his head. "What did he do to her?"
"He tortured her. For hours at a time. Crutio, Imperio, whipping, beating, verbal abuse, threats...hot irons..." I winced at the last device. That was the one that I had been there for, when I had gone in with a team to get Hermione out. "I had been captured, and brought to the same cell as Hermione." I circled my finger around my glass, thinking, going back as I spoke. "He used me against her. Nearly killed me, if I remember correctly..." I looked up at Potter, who, I knew had not taken his eyes off of me since I had begun to speak, "and she still would not say a word."
"What was his final blow?" I could barely hear Potter as he asked his question. His face was almost haunted looking, as though he were inwardly attacking himself for not knowing all of these things. A small part of me took pleasure in that, but a larger part merely felt sympathy for him. When I answered, my voice was as low and haunting as Potters was.
"The Cructatious Curse can only be administired so many times..." I clenched my fist that was resting on my lap and took my finger away from the glass which it had been circling, knowing that I had the strength to break it at this point.
As I sat there, listening to Malfoy recall what had happened the night Hermione died, I felt my tears fall freely down my wintry rosy cheeks. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she must have gone through in her last days.
"Well, I must say, I have never seen you cry before, Potter." Malfoys voice broke through my thoughts, and I quickly put a hand up to my eyes, wiping the tears away. "S'alright," Draco continued, watching me closely, "I cried enough tears that night for the both of us. With my father watching and laughing." I took a deep breath, the memories and feelings beginning to overwhelm me.
"Bloody bastard even taunted her in her death."
My eyes rose to meet Malfoys, and I could have sworn that in those stormy grey eyes of his, I could see a little rain begin to fall. We both remained quiet for a while, just sitting at a table in a bar, occasionally glancing at one another. There came a point though, when I could stand it no longer.
"Do you blame yourself for her death as well?"
Malfoy looked at me, an obvious expression in his eyes. "Does Weasley have a temper to beat out all menopausal women?" he asked dryly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You wanted something of truce between the two of us, correct?"
I nodded my head.
"For Hermiones sake, I think that can be arranged." He held up a finger quickly. "However, that does not mean that you and I are the best of friends, Potter."
"I'm not asking for friendship from you, Malfoy," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest. "Just a cease-fire." The blond nodded, looking away and crossing his own arms as well. Once again, silence reigned between us.
"You know, I really did love her, despite what you and Weasley may think."
I looked up at him, surprised that he'd said that. He didn't look at me, just over my shoulder, so that it would look like he was looking at me.
"I know you did. And I think Ron does too. Believe it or not, he can be more stubborn than Hermione ever could be sometimes...but that was just the way he was. He warmed up to it, after a time." Actually, the warmest Ron ever got about the idea of Hermione and Draco together paralleled an eskimo freezing in the Arctic Ocean. But I wasn't about to say that to Malfoy.
And I didn't have to.
"You'd think after 17 years, you'd learn to tell a decent lie, Potter." A smirk was just touching the corners of Malfoys mouth and I shook my head in ammusement.
"What are you doing?"
He looked at me.
"I'm sitting here, my arms crossed over my chest, trying not to freeze in this bloody rediculous weather, Potter. What are you doing?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. "I think I'm going to visit Hermione." With that, I got up, straightening my cloak and looking down at him. "Would you like to join me?" He didn't answer me and after a few moments, I nodded. "Alright then. Have a good night, Malfoy, I'll see you at work tomorrow." I tightened my scarf around my neck and turned from him, heading for the door.
As I walked out of the Leaky Caulron, I looked up into the clear night sky, watching the stars dance thier twinkling dance. It was still snowing, though it was slowing down, and carolers were beginning to make thier rounds. I felt someone brush by me, but I paid no attention, only continued to watch the sky.
"Well, are you going to stand there all night like an idiot, or are you coming along?"
I leveled my gaze at Malfoy, who was standing in the middle of the street, his hands in his pockets, looking at me with an expression that clearly let me know that he thought I was the slowest thing on Earth. However, I nodded my head and walked up to him. "I suppose I'll tag along."
And together, we walked to Hermiones gravesite.