The Verdict
The P!nk Challenge by Niflheim07
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What do you feel when you see the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?
How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?
And tell me why.
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Growing up in the muggle world, Hermione had been educated in this history of muggles long before she even knew witches, wizards, dragons, and other mythical beings even existed. As a small girl, those were only figments of her imagination. The small strange happenings that occurred in her life and the tricks she could do, Hermione came to accept, was just a talent of hers, a slight of hand. Life was not easy, although she was blissfully unaware of Voldemort and other dark happenings.
Hermione had always been a smart girl, taking her learning beyond the classroom. If she was being taught the structure of the earth, she asked questions concerning the other planets in relation to their makeup versus that of the earth. It was these kind of questions that lost her the most friends; regular students just wanted to get by. Normal, yet eerily scary, it is for a girl or boy to want to just pass school and be taught but not learn anything. Hermione had not been one of these people.
She was especially interested in how things pertained to her own life, even from the tender age before Hogwarts. The formative years begin when one is ten, it is said, a good year before her acceptance letter was received by owl.
Taking examples from the past such as Adolph Hitler or Attila the Hun, Hermione was torn between hating them for their crimes against people or trying to appeal to their human side and reform them. With such extremes, it was difficult to look past their actions, and she found she failed.
Little did she know, about seven years after receiving a joyous letter, she would have to revisit the same mentality of thinking.
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The Burrow was bustling with people, almost ready to burst with excitement. It was like an oasis among a desert of destruction and pain that Voldemort and his Death Eaters left in their wake. It was almost as if they were untouchable here; this was a place of warmth and security.
Hermione still felt cold inside.
They had only been seeing each other secretly in the previous year for about five or six months before he called it off due to personal matters. It wasn't her, he claimed, it never would be her, so don't ever think that. Personal matters, the Gryffindor aptly assumed, meaning his duty to his family and more importantly his father.
She had grown to know him as a person, as a friend. They had been somewhat romantically involved; a few stolen kisses in an alcove didn't amount to much, she knew, but it had been better than the empty nothingness the brunette had been since accustomed to. It was much harder to properly judge a friend on his actions. Most of the time, she found she couldn't.
Staring into the darkness, Hermione knew he was out there somewhere. Plotting, planning, even possibly killing, they were all possibilities, yet none of them truly fit who she had become friends with. Her friend would never have done that, in fact he didn't want to. Yet duty, family name, and his need to be accepted by his father overruled that.
How could she pass judgment onto him? He had done so many terrible deeds to the people she cared deeply about, and it was almost guaranteed that he would be commanded to commit more. Like past historical figures that had done terrible things, would she not be able to look past and try to understand him as a person? She had so many questions to ask him. Things which she would demand answers. Was he happy with whom he had turned out to be? Because she wasn't; she wanted the true him back.
In truth, as she looked back away from the darkness beyond the window pane, the brunette absorbed the scene in front of her. A joyful, happy family, blood and non-blood, gathered together for a meal currently being prepared by Mrs. Weasley and Ginny.
An oasis among the desert. If only she could sweep Draco away from his world into hers. Then maybe she would stop trying to determine her judgment on his life and truly living hers.
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Author's Note.
Challenge: The P!nk Challenge!
Given by: Niflheim07 on the HPFF Challenge Forum
Prompt: "Dear Mr. President" by P!nk
Kind of sad… I know. But I kept true to my new year's resolution for the first month! (The goal, I don't know if I shared this, was to write at least two things for FF a month, which would equal about 24 updates or new oneshots/drabbles/etc. Of course the ultimate goal is way more than two a month, but let's not get ahead of ourselves!).
Let me know what you think, I had this perfect idea in my head, but I never truly know how it comes across until I get good reviews with constructive criticism! Tell me what you truly thought; don't spare my feelings.
Like it? Hate it? Indifferent? Leave a review and let me know!