A/N: Hello there! As an avid reader of fan fiction and Harry Potter, I came up with this little Dramione fic. Enjoy!
Prologue
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Golden flames danced along the connection between Voldemort's and Harry's wand; Voldemort's wand flew through the air, caught by the talented Seeker, Harry himself. Voldemort fell backwards on to the ground, the scarlet pupils of his eyes rolling upward. A blanket of silence covered Hogwarts; only the sound of fast, beating hearts and the occasional fidget were heard. Harry let out a breath of relief, and from there, Hogwarts erupted in cheers and roars. Hermione and Ron were the first to reach Harry, shouting their inaudible praises just as the rest of the watchers hurried over. Hermione could feel the bodies of people digging into hers; but she didn't care, the war was over.
Hermione withdrew herself from the crowded celebration, needing time to herself to properly digest what actually happened. She walked through the rubble and bodies strewn throughout Hogwarts, until she unknowingly walked into the Potions dungeon. The dungeon wasn't hardly recognizable; desks were broken, all of Snape's potion ingredients flowing onto the floor, papers all over the place, and remarkably, a hole in the wall where someone must punched with rage. Hermione fell on her knees and shuddered out a breath; fingernails digging into her palms, she tried to relax. Tension was built up in her back muscles, which were aching terribly. Hermione saw the events of the war flash through her eyes; Harry's "dead" body, Death Eaters maniacally grinning, and worst of all—Voldemort's smile that made her sick.
She let out a strangled sob, tears running down her face; she couldn't hold the pain any longer. Too many sacrifices were made this year; deaths of her classmates and teachers haunted the corridors of Hogwarts. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to coax herself that everything was alright. She tried to regulate her breathing, but the result was only sobbing harder. Hermione knew this wasn't something Hogwarts could forget with a good-night sleep; this was something that would haunts their nightmares and sights forever. Now that the war was over, Hermione needed to restore the memory of her parents in Australia. When she had set the memory spell, her books had stated that only the most advanced charm ability could reset the spell.
Hermione needed an expert that could aid her through the difficulties of removing the spell, someone like Professor Flitwick. His guidance could help her regain the memory of her parents; but her parents had to stay in the dark for a couple weeks before she removed the spell. Hogwarts needed to recover; its students and teachers were traumatized and the whole Hogwarts was practically in shreds. She would wait until the Wizarding World had woken up from the trauma. Hermione felt like she had just dropped Galleons of stress off her body; she felt more calm and relaxed now that she had talked herself through. Feeling brave enough to face the crowd of people outside Hogwarts, Hermione got up and walked out the Potions dungeon. As she walked, her steps echoed across the walls.
As she was almost towards to the end of the dungeon, she heard someone sobbing around the corner. She peaked around the corner, to see a shocking sight in front of her—Malfoy was crying. He was crying into his hands, crouched into a fetal position, with his back up against the wall. His before vibrant white-blond hair looked as dirty as ever; the sides of his face had blood streaming down. His hand looked broken, blood was gushing through the torn skin, his fingers sprawled at a bad angle. For the first time in her life, Hermione had seen Malfoy in the worst position of his life. He was no longer that prejudiced, arrogant boy that strutted down the corridors; he was a young man who had faced so much in his life, that he couldn't handle keeping it in.
"How could you, Sev?" Malfoy muttered, trembling. "How could you leave from this world? Without me?"
Hermione had witnessed the same breakdown when Sirius had passed; Harry was such a horrendous, grieving mess that she thought Harry was going to go along with Sirius. Hermione's father used to say that men that cried were secure enough with their masculinity to be emotional. It wasn't cowardice or the display of vulnerability, it was the fact that it was hard to keep up that shield against emotions. Hermione watched Malfoy in thought; she knew she had to say something. She walked towards him quietly, and when she was passing by him, she whispered, "It will be alright, Malfoy." His cradled head shot up, catching no sight of the speaker but a 'Mudblood' scar on her arm. Granger.
As Hermione continued walking, she had feeling that everyone would take a vial of Sleeping Draught before they tried to catch a couple hours of rest. She would find Harry and Ron, and would proceed to find what was left of their dormitory, and rest. That's what she needed—rest. And hopefully everything would go back to normal.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please give your feedback/opinion to that lovely little button down below, that says "REVIEW".
~Sarai