I don't know if it actually classifies as a songfic, because I'm not using the lyrics. Just put it above.
Yes, I grew really conscious about my songfics after the Love Story fiasco.
Also, all of these events happened at New Year's Eve. The first one, where Draco claimed they were friends, was supposed to have fireworks but... pouring rain. Pouring out soulful memories. I needed the rain somewhere.
Hope you people enjoy!
Disclaimer:
"I'm doing this quick because I'm logging out in a few," Louise said worriedly, as she frantically punched in a few letters. "Also, I have to leave something. Schedule is, again, busy this week. Sorry guys," she huffed out, saving the document. "Yeah, Mari, I'll add something to your songfic after Graduation. Sorry again," she babbled as she stretched. Louise tiredly rubbed her eyes and stared at the screen. ONE MINUTE LEFT was flashed by the timer smugly.
"There! Also, I don't own Dramione nor Harry Potter!" She gasped for breath, posting it before fleeing out the room, escaping the wrath of the timer.
Drop everything now
Meet me in the pouring rain
Kiss me on the sidewalk
Take away the pain
'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile
Get me with those brown eyes, baby
As the lights go down
Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around
'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile
-Taylor Swift, "Sparks Fly"
In memory of
Narcissa Malfoy (née Black)
1955 - 2020
Beloved Mother and Wife to Draco and Lucius Malfoy
May your soul now rest in peace.
Draco stroked the tombstone, worn away by time. He buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and let himself breath in the cold air surrounding the graveyard... it was choking him... it was suffocating him... drowning him in the memories of how he lost his mother...
He yanked his hands out of the coat's pocket and gripped the tombstone hard. He needed something to hold into. Because clearly, he had lost a grip on everything...
Never again, he thought grimly. Mother wouldn't want to see you like this.
Draco stared at the vapor his breath left hanging in the air, like a soul stranded between life and death...
Suddenly, a hand appeared on his shoulder, the warmth spreading from the fingertips to his body.
"You should've told me you were going. That way you and I won't be affected by the past," a feminine voice softly said.
Draco turned around slowly. "Granger," he greeted her stiffly and shrugged off her hand, not wanting to have his time interrupted.
Hermione tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms as she stepped closer. Close enough to push away. Close enough to hope desperately that she never seen his gaze. "Really, Malfoy? Back to the last-name calling?"
"If you don't want to be called Granger, Hermione, then leave me alone!" he expelled breath between his teeth, sounding like a hiss of a snake.
Hermione sighed before pointing to a site of older tombstones. "I can't. I made a promise to them I'll be here. I can't leave them until midnight."
"Then at least leave me in peace," he huffed.
Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "No, I won't. Tell me why you're acting like this."
Draco Malfoy inwardly sighed. You couldn't change Hermione Granger's mind when she set her mind in it. That's probably why they turned into friends.
She had turned from arch-nemesis into friends when they met in this graveyard ten years ago, when his mother was freshly buried. They, of course, had argued but when they met once more the next year, they fell into a truce of some sort and began opening up to each other.
Suddenly, everything came pouring out and he couldn't stop the flood. He was powerless to stop the oncoming waves of tears.
When he had finished, Hermione held out her hands and let Draco walk straight into them, then pulled him close
Suddenly, Draco was aware again of his environment. His confession poured out, like the pouring rain now mercilessly pouring out, their wet clothes clinging to their body as they hung on the each other for comfort and warmth.
She was so close. Hermione was so close. Close enough to kiss.
No. the proud Slytherin voice inside him told him, horrified. Purebloods do NOT kiss Mudbloods.
Then he pushed the voice away. Before, Hermione seemed like a Mudblood to him. But now? He would hex everyone who called her a Mudblood.
Because he realized he NEEDED her, and that he LOVED her. When he saw that beautiful smile and sparks of attraction suddenly flew.
His Pure-blood side of brain forgot to remind him that dating a Muggleborn was a BAD idea. It would betray everything his parents taught him and integrated into him.
But he didn't care. He loved the way Hermione would cuddle with him, and he felt sparks running up and down his body.
But he couldn't deny that Hermione knew for a fact that Draco was forbidden to be with Muggleborns all his life and claim that he was superior to her. That was probably why she recoiled and limited herself to kisses on the cheek. But not yet on the mouth. Only Draco could do that, when he was feeling particularly brave.
He smirked. His walls were piled high when the world was watching him, but his defenses crumbled when it came to Hermione.
He was impatient. He couldn't wait always to go to the graveyard to meet with her. He knew he was impatient. And he wished that Hermione could drop everything down when he wanted her attention.
He chuckled. He remembered those days. He would demand her attention and kiss her. When she recovered and started hurtling hexes at him for distracting her, it seemed the joyful spark in her beautiful brown eyes had come to life when she chased him down. And how she always caught him when he looked back and saw her smile, forgetting that she was still hexing him and letting himself succumb to the sparks of attraction.
They cuddled below the tree of the highest mound in the graveyard because Hermione urged him to watch the fireworks show that the Muggles always set up at New Year's Eve.
He couldn't imagine he said no. Because he was having the best time of his life.
He ran his fingers through her hair (it had straightened it out beautifully in seventh year) as the fireworks made a magnificent display; the Catherine Wheel let off colorful sparks, the squibs danced, the Bengal lights coated the sky with fiery streaks of red, the Fire-balloon dropped sparks that were a beautiful blue, the Roman candles boomed and the crackers let off a beautiful performance.
But all of it was nothing compared to the wide smile Hermione was sporting.
He knew she was looking up at him. It felt wrong. No, it USED to feel wrong. No anymore. It felt right this time. Because unlike Pansy or any other girl he had on his arm before, Hermione felt right even if it had a twinge of guilt and wrong because his mother's grave stood a few feet away.
She gripped his free hand and squeezed it.
'Mione, how can you be as attractive as the fiery display? he thought, suddenly muttering it softly as his fingers ran through her hair.
The result had been Hermione turning around and prodding him gently in the stomach as she mustered the courage and kissed him.
Now at a ripe, old age, Draco was happy and sad. His and Hermione's wedding lasted for a good few years before she affected by some sort of disease that the Muggle doctor called "Breast Cancer". They told him is was too late; the cancer had been discovered when it was already at stage 3.
But he was happy for his wife. She died a quick death. She didn't suffer. She had spent a good portion of her life with him.
She passed away, as so he thought.
No, she didn't. he chided himself, leaning against the tree they where they had celebrated their first New Year's Eve together many years ago.
She didn't pass away. He thought, watching the fireworks display once more, watching the sparks and streaks of colors fly up in the night sky. He was now a wise old man. Old, but not senile. He had welcomed his daughter-in-law, Rose Weasley, with open arms. He had witnessed his son, Scorpio Malfoy, and his daughter-in-law's wedding.
Hermione didn't pass away. Not like he thought miserably before, blaming everything. Blaming Scorpio for being as smart as his mother. Blaming the Muggle doctors, who didn't find a way. Blaming Hermione for leaving him behind. Blaming himself for blaming everything.
She left behind an imprint of her, in the sky with the fireworks. He remembered that night, where the sparks reflected Hermione's bright smile and off her coffee-colored eyes.
And he remembered how sparks flew when he saw her smile.
HA! FINISHED SOMETHING!
Yeah, sorry people. I had this great idea and canceled my 'edits' because this Dramione fluff bunny got me thinking.
I'm continuing my other edits, and yes, Mari, you'll get your songfic. I just don't know what to write after writing after THREE same lines of Piper.
NO THOUGHTS FOR TODAY. Maybe I'll edit this tomorrow.
Marrione and Louise