Subject: Potions
Task #2: Write about someone being forced to relive or remember a past trauma.
Word Count: 2,271
Song Lyrics Used: 'And at last I see the light.'
Extra Prompt Used: 'It's her chaos that makes her beautiful.'
. . .
He couldn't believe he was back here again, after everything he had done.
Hogwarts, what a beautiful castle it was. It was grand, magical, and it was home. Yes, even though he had helped destroy it, Draco considered Hogwarts as his home. Malfoy Manor became a living hell for him, ever since the Dark Lord visited. Most of his childhood days were spent in here, anyway, and he was going to come back home again.
He was invited back by Headmistress McGonagall because his generation's education was interrupted by the war. Draco believed that he wasn't going to get a job if he didn't study, so here he was. He had nothing to do, anyway, nothing but to sit around the Manor and contemplate suicide.
When he was on the train, he got the treatment he knew he'd deserved. They told them that he shouldn't be here, that he helped kill Dumbledore, and that he should be in Azkaban. Everything they had said was true; he was a coward, he was a Death Eater, he was a prejudiced bastard, and he was a good-for-nothing son of a bitch. Draco never retaliated because he never found the courage to do so. Why would he battle against something he knew was right?
He wasn't really looking forward to the year, he wasn't really looking forward to anything. He wasn't happy that he was back here, he didn't deserve to be back. He wasn't really happy for anything. Draco was just... nothing. He felt like nothing, anyway. He felt like doing nothing or being nothing. And he was sort of tired of being that way, but he couldn't really do anything about that.
Draco was hoping, at least, that entering Hogwarts would change him for the better.
. . .
He winced as he felt his cheek sting in pain. Some Gryffindor kid punched him in the face a few hours ago. He honestly did not know why he got punched, but the kid said that he did it because it was time for Draco to pay for his sins. The kid tried to hurt him even more, but a Prefect got in his way, and reprimanded him. Draco wouldn't fight back if the kid decided to even kill him, he knew he deserved it. Draco did worse back in his younger years. He knew he was awful.
His former friends turned on him as well. His Slytherin friends. Gregory Goyle blamed him for Crabbe's death, Pansy Parkinson thought he was a coward for not killing Dumbledore himself, and Blaise Zabini had hated him from the beginning. They called him a traitor, and he was. He betrayed Hogwarts, he betrayed the Dark Lord, and he betrayed himself. He chose to betray because he was a coward.
Draco decided that he didn't want to live anymore, but he couldn't kill himself, he was too afraid. Merlin, he was such a fucking coward.
He passed by the library, and saw Hermione Granger reading a book.
Moments later, Draco realized that she was crying. He could hear her sobs and whimpers from where he was standing.
He told himself that she didn't matter to him. And as she cursed and shook, Draco remembered that he owed her at least a bit, that she was one of the few people who thought him worthy enough to save. Hermione Granger did matter to him.
So, he slowly approached her.
She became aware of his presence when he asked, "Why are you crying?"
How awfully blunt of him, and what a terrible question to ask. Who wanted to be bombarded by a question like that? Clearly, he couldn't do anything right.
She gave him the most exhausted-looking glare he had ever received.
"Why are you here?" she asked him.
Well, he was just strolling around the castle, like he always did, when he saw her crying in frustration. But he felt like she was attacking him for some reason, so his defense mechanism kicked in.
"I'm not here to watch you eat your snot, at least," said Draco.
Granger hissed. "Just get out!"
He ignored that. "I've answered your question, now answer mine."
She wiped her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeve.
"I don't have to do that," said Granger, nose raised in the air.
He shook his head. "No, but I'd rather you do it anyway."
Granger took a deep breath. "I can't sleep."
"So, you cry?" Draco was confused.
"No!" she exclaimed. "I'm just... tired."
Draco could tell that from a mile away. She was thinner than usual, paler than usual, and her eyes looked dead. She was kind of like him.
"I'm exhausted, too, actually," Draco mentioned, "tired of living. Tired of being alive."
He said it so casually, like it was normal - well, it was normal for him, but he doubted it was the same way with the Brightest Witch of Her Age.
She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you say that?"
Because it was the truth, and Draco wanted to say the truth for once.
So, he stripped everything down, and decided to be vulnerable. Granger looked like a trustworthy woman.
"I want to die," he confessed, like he was a sinner and she was a Muggle priest. "I... I don't see the point in living anymore. I just want to die, and I don't care if they take me to heaven or hell or whatever the fuck - I just want to die."
Draco chanced a glance at her, and she looked at him with the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen - pity. He didn't tell her that just for pity. It was repulsing, she was repulsing, but before he could say anything about that, Granger spoke.
"Do you... do you attempt to kill yourself?" she asked, without looking at him.
Draco snorted. "As if I would have the courage."
"You're not a coward," she told him.
"Yes, I am."
"You're really not." She shook her head. "No one is really a coward, we just got different types of bravery."
Was Hermione Granger really trying to save him from himself?
"I'm not brave," he denied. "People like you are brave. People who can stand up to an evil man and defeat him - that's bravery."
"We're all brave," she insisted. "You're brave enough to keep living even if you don't want to."
"That's not enough," he pointed out. "And, how about you, Granger? What's your problem? Why are you tired?"
Granger hesitated before she eventually spoke up. "Your... my... erm..."
"What?"
She inhaled. "I have dreams - terrible, abnormal dreams about the war and the night I was... tortured in your home. I can't get rid of it."
"Try a Dreamless Sleep Potion, it works perfectly - "
"It doesn't work on me!" Granger interrupted. "My case is very... special. They're not normal nightmares, they're caused by a dark curse. A dark curse given to me by your gracious aunt. No one knows what the curse is, but all it does is make me dream about something I do not want to remember. And it's so hard. I don't want to sleep, but I'm so tired. I don't want to even try to close my eyes or even rest for a bit - I don't want to see the faces of dead children I've failed to save, I don't want to hear the shrieks of people being killed, I don't want to see Bellatrix's grin ever again, I don't want to look at the dead, red eyes of Voldemort once more - I just want to forget about it all, and sleep!"
By the end of her speech, she was crying again, babbling like a child that had been denied his mother's milk.
"I just want to rest," she repeated. "Just one good sleep."
Draco didn't know what to say. What she had said was a lot more than he told her.
So, like the craven he was, he chose to leave her alone.
. . .
Draco thought about being dead. He wondered what it would feel like, what he would see. Where would they bury him? Would they just put him in a sack, and throw him in a river? What would God think of him, if he was real? Draco knew what he thought of him, he thought that he was a piece of shit. Useless fucker, letting evil live, and letting the good suffer. God was probably amused by the pain everyone was going through. Why was he blaming God for all of this, anyway? Everyone's problems were everyone's faults.
He wondered if someone would cry for him. Would his parents be informed of his death? They were in Azkaban, after all, and no one cared about the prisoners. He knew his parents loved him, but would they even be allowed to mourn him?
The world was better off without him, that much he knew. The majority of the students currently in Hogwarts probably would not care if he decided to kill himself now. Would he still be labeled as a coward if he found courage to face the unknown?
Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this was punishment for serving the Dark Lord.
Draco slowly took out his wand. He pointed it at his chest. Two words were all he needed. Avada Kedavra.
He took a deep breath, and -
"What are you doing?" asked a familiar voice.
He immediately hid his wand before facing his 'savior.'
Granger. It was Granger, of course, the golden girl she was.
"Just trying some new things," he answered.
"New things?" She sat down beside him. There were bags under her eyes, her cheekbones were pointy, her hair was tied into the messiest ponytail, and she was as pale as snow. Granger was not getting any sleep, and it was showing. Sometimes, her hands would shake out of nowhere, and she told him that her vision was sometimes blurry. But she had never looked more gorgeous to Draco. He thought she was particularly unattractive when she was basically perfect, but now that she was broken, she looked like a doll. It was her chaos that made her beautiful to him. Knowing that she was needed fixing, Draco liked her more.
They had been talking to each other, acting like each other's Mind Healers for a few weeks now. They talked about how fucked up their minds were, how helpless they both felt. He was not sure if they were friends, but he hoped so, he was enjoying her company quite a lot.
"Have you done the assignment in Herbology?" she asked before proceeding to an animated ramble about homework.
Draco smiled slightly. He was a bit thankful that she had interrupted his 'attempt' earlier.
. . .
He was absolutely useless. He couldn't even - fuck!
Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he didn't bother to stop them. He gripped his hair with both hands, wanting to pull the strands out of his scalp. He was pacing back and forth. His heart was pounding, he could feel it beating in his throat. His hands were starting to shake too. He felt lightheaded, and he couldn't focus on anything but the fact that Hermione Granger didn't love him back.
Draco was so bloody in love with her, and he didn't even realize it. She was all he could think about. She had given him a reason to live. She became his angel. She was bloody and broken, and she saved him. He thought he had saved her, too, just a bit - but that wasn't even his job.
Draco thought that his heart actually broke when she told him that she was dating Ron Weasley, the redheaded boy he used to bully.
Fuck. Was he that unlovable? Was he that ugly? What the fuck was wrong with him?
This was the strongest feeling he'd ever felt in months, and he hated it. He'd rather feel nothing at all than to feel this hurt.
He stopped his pacing, and glared at the sky.
"Where the fuck are you, God?' he shouted, not caring if it made his throat bleed or anything. "Strike me down, if you're real! Just fucking kill me!"
But God, if he was real, did not do anything. He was probably watching Draco be an idiot.
He didn't want to do this anymore - now, he truly did not have any purpose. He couldn't watch the woman he loved be with another man. He didn't want to hurt anymore. He didn't want to live anymore.
Draco glanced at his left, and saw the Black Lake.
He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath.
He ran towards the body of water, and jumped.
He felt the water closing him on him, and it felt like release.
His body sank to the lowest it could get, and he breathed in all the liquid he could get.
He felt his lungs constricting and the need to breathe air.
He ignored that need and accepted death.
And at last, he saw the light. The light that meant both salvation and damnation. The light that would give him eternal peace and freedom. The light he'd been looking for all this time.
Then, he saw nothing at all.