Hello people of the Internet! This is my first fic so please review! Constructive criticism is VERY welcome ^^. Hope you enjoy the story! You get a cookie if you know where my title came from ;D
~RiseAgain
My Death Eater scar was hurting, burning even. It had faded away but the pain still remained. It reminded me of my father. He who followed the Dark Lord to the very end. He who persuaded me into taking the Mark and he who died because of that stupid Unbreakable Vow.
After the war, everything I saw or heard made me feel like I was about to go insane. Skeeter writing the lies about mine and other Pureblood families that partook in Voldemort's scheme. But one particular family seemed to be the most popular out of them all. Mine.
One day, everything died down and just went away. I decided to go out for the first time in months maybe even years, I wasn't sure. I stepped outside in my favorite black cloak, the sun piercing my eyes like daggers. i headed to The Three Broomsticks for some time without my mother's constant ramblings and jolting screams at night. I know she's still traumatized by father's death, but sometimes I just want nothing. Absolutely nothing. Peace and quiet.
On the way, I reminiscenced school life. Ghastly, I remarked within, Potter. Who would have thought that little scum like him could shake his world so much. Now, Saint Potter has become the toast of the Ministry of Magic, become the staple of the Daily Prophet, with his column detailing his life. Even that bitch Skeeter was writing the truth! The leaves shook in the autumn breeze, as if in protest of those vile thoughts. Somehow, those orange leaves dropped to the pool of mud. Mud, I thought, and it hit me. It wasn't the fact that Potter survived the killing curse that catapulted Harry Potter to his fame but that so called genius he brings around him, that... "MUDBLOOD," My lips shaped the words in pseudo-estacy.
Ever since the fall of the Dark Lord, the closest mention of mud will get a wizard into Azkaban. But there was one Mudblood in particular that was still fresh in my mind. "Granger," I missed calling her name on the way to classes. Tormenting her about her blood status and idiots of friends she has. But suddenly a pang of guilt surged through my very being and I wondered what she looked like after the last time I saw her. She was being tortured by Aunt Bella scarring her forearm with that vile word.
As if on cue I heard the crack of Apparation and there she was. The girl I was just thinking about. She didn't seem to notice me standing a few feet away from her. She had changed a lot over the years or was it months? Whatever. Her wild, bushy hair that resembled a bird's nest was gone. Now, it cascaded down her back in light waves and seemed to have lost some of the chocolatey brown it was renowned for. I wonder if she dyed it? She had filled out really well too. Her formerly stick like figure had changed into an hourglass. Damn, puberty seemed like something more powerful than magic But something was different. Her face didn't look like the usual fierce Granger he used to know. She looked like she was about to pass out. Her skin looked paler. Her cheeks hollow. Eyes bloodshot. Oh Merlin, now she's vomiting. Wait, that's not vomit. Was vomit normally red?
A/N: I don't know if that can be considered a cliffie or not. I know it's a very short one but don't fret! Future chapters WILL be longer! I promise with all my shipping heart :)
~RiseAgain