Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't Harry Potter...darn JK for coming up with the idea first! But thanks to her for letting me play with them!
A/N: This is my first fan fiction, so please, let me know what you think! I'm going to try and keep everyone in character and stay true to the books the best I can, but if I mess up at all, feel free to let me know! Thank you, and don't forget to R&R! :)
A Chance for Revenge
Chapter 1: The Betrayal
Draco stared into the slightly cracked and dusty mirror, discouraged to find a haggard looking man with unkempt platinum blonde hair and pale skin stare back. There were purple circles under the red rimmed grey eyes, accompanied by sunken cheeks and a slight five o'clock shadow, emphasizing the sharp planes of his once regal face.
He averted his gaze from his reflection, too disgusted to look any longer, and instead studied his clothing. The steel blue sweater was ripped at the elbow of his right arm, and pieces of thread hung warily from the hem, threatening to completely unravel at any moment. His denim jeans were worn in the seat and the knees, while his black trainers were spattered with mud. At first he had tried to mend the clothing, but now it just seemed futile. It would rip within the day anyways, so why bother?
Weeks of sleeping on benches in Muggle parks and camping out in the woods had put him in this sorry state, eventually leading him to this shabby inn. The place was falling down in disrepair, with its broken windows and rotting wood, and it seemed to Draco that the place would collapse around him at any moment. It was a sketchy hovel that seemed to invite only the shadiest of drug dealers and the scummiest of prostitutes, although with his current appearance, Draco blended right in. With one last disapproving look in the mirror he walked out of the small, grimy bathroom and entered the dismal cupboard- like space that he was supposed to occupy.
The windows were coated with dirt, allowing only trace amounts of gloomy daylight to enter the room. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, accompanied by a tarnished metal chain and a few dense cobwebs, a constantly flickering light source that went out each time one of the heavily graffitied freight trains rumbled by on the tracks below. A small cot was pushed up against the cold stone wall, adorned with a rough wool blanket and a heavily stained pair of sheets and pillow, hard as a rock. Draco sighed, his dreary surroundings only adding to his bad mood. He missed the luxury of Malfoy Manner, with its plush furnishings, spacious rooms, and lush gardens overflowing with exotic plants, ponds, and albino peacocks that strut about displaying their stark white plumage. He missed the days during those first few years at Hogwarts, where he hadn't a goal or care in the world, other than to make that half-blood Potter's life miserable. But most of all he missed his parents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, who currently were off hiding at one of their many estates, worrying over their only son's safety and survival.
Upon Voldemort's defeat, the surviving Death Eaters had scattered, desperately trying to erase all evidence of their connection to the Dark Lord. Most were unsuccessful, resulting in their capture, trial, and sentencing to life-long imprisonment in Azkaban, where their sanity would slowly be sucked away by the ever present Dementors. A lucky few had managed to escape this terrible fate, slipping into the shadows to buy their time and attempt to seamlessly assimilate into society. Many, known to be overzealous and deranged, continued to plot various ways of revenge against those who had turned against the Dark Lord during the Final Battle in order to save their own skins, such as the Malfoy family. Five years had passed and they were back for blood, working in highly secretive underground networks to track down and destroy all who they suspected to be traitors. They knew that their Lord had been killed by Harry Potter on that fateful day, and that this time, unlike the others, he would not be coming back. And yet, they could not seem to let go of what they thought to be their "glory days", and as a result felt the need to sanction revenge against all those who had not served the Dark Lord loyally, figuring that if they were going down, they would bring as many as they could down with them. Thus the Malfoys were in mortal danger. Draco was forced to part ways with his parents and go into hiding until the Aurors could finally apprehend the remaining Death Eaters and rid the Wizarding World of the last remains of the dark times.
Draco glanced about the filthy room, his steely eyes filled with loathing before dejectedly kicking off his old trainers and lying down on the cot, exhaustion taking over. His eyelids felt like lead and every muscle in his body screamed with fatigue. Before his head even hit the pillow he was asleep, his body thankful to once again be spending a night in a bed, no matter how hard or dirty.
"Ronald Weasley. How DARE you!"
Hermione Granger stood in the doorway of Ron's old attic room of the Burrow, her hands clenched into fists and her entire body rigid. As she spoke her body shook in an effort to contain the anger punctuating the end of each word.
"Hermione, just- just please calm down! I can explain!" Ron desperately pleaded, frantically trying to placate with the seething bushy haired witch.
"No, I will NOT calm down! Are you really daft enough to believe that a simple explanation would fix this? That I would believe one word you had to say right now? That even if you could possibly have an explanation worthy enough to make sense of this whole situation, which I highly doubt, it would be enough to just smooth things over!" Hermione hissed back, her voice steadily rising into a shout by the end of her exclamation.
Ron's face slowly grew redder with each sentence, passing from lightly sunburned to a deep tomato almost instantly.
"Mione…I was drunk! I didn't realize…" a Ron broke off, his light blue eyes widening in fear as the girl's chocolate brown ones narrowed, her full lips setting into a straight line. Her hair seemed to expand in front of his eyes, crackling with magic and fury as she took a step forward, cornering the second youngest Weasley against the wall.
"Oh, you didn't realize, did you? You didn't realize that you were sliding into bed with that- that, whore?" she asked, her voice borderline hysterical as her hand instinctively reached for her back pocket, closing around the now familiar wand that once belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange. She had lost her own all those years ago and in desperation had claimed Bellatrix's as her own. Having it had made her feel dirty, contaminated, knowing that it had been used to murder and torture innocent Wizards and Muggles alike. She had meant to get rid of it, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to. It gave her some comfort, helped her remember that the nightmares weren't real, and that the Dark Age was really over, despite how vivid the memories were. However, this was a whole new nightmare in itself.
"You told me that you two were over. That what you had at Hogwarts was just a fling. That the whole time you were just unaware of your feelings for me. You said you never meant to hurt me, that we should just forget about the whole thing, because really, and I quote 'I could never feel for someone else the way I feel for you'," Hermione spat at the trembling red head, her fingers still posed in sarcastic air quotes.
"And I meant it Hermione! That is the truth, I love you!" At this Hermione snorted a derisive laugh and turned on her heel, "You should have thought of that while you were fucking that tart Lavender Brown, then, shouldn't you have?"
Three redheads sat around a worn kitchen table, mugs in hand, as they stared at each other wide-eyed, their knuckles white from the fierce grip on their worn china cups. They had been listening to Hermione and Ron's argument with interest, wondering what the source of the disparity was this time. They had figured that it was just another stupid spat over Ron leaving his socks lying about their flat, or Hermione spending too many late nights at the Ministry, working on the ever growing stack of case files that seemed to double each time a suspected Death Eater was caught. It was incredible that after all these years Aurors could still be finding them, no one having realized just how far and wide Voldemort's hold really was.
"Ron has really mucked everything up this time, eh?" George asked, his tone full of disdain for his younger brother's actions.
"He just ruined the best thing that's ever happened to him," Charlie agreed, disbelief and pity mingling in his voice.
"I'll kill him," Ginny growled as she stood up and slammed her mug onto the wooden table, causing the dark brown liquid to slosh over the rim. Her dark brown eyes swam with anger, causing George and Charlie to glance nervously at each other. Despite the girl's small frame and pretty face, anyone who knew her was smart enough to be fearful of her infamous Weasley temper, something that she, along with her brothers, had acquired to match their fiery red hair. That, accompanied with the fact that she had taken out hoards of Death Eaters during the Second War and had mastered a fiercely accurate Bat- Bogey Hex, was enough to deter anyone from trying to mess with Ginny Weasley.
At that moment a door slammed upstairs, followed by the pounding of feet as they hurried down the stairs, the worn wood groaning and squeaking in protest. A livid Hermione appeared in front of them, her bushy brown hair sticking out in all directions and her chocolate brown eyes glazed over, holding back the tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Her chest was heaving and her face was bright red, a scowl tugging the corners of her mouth downward.
"Give this back to your git of a brother," she said, her voice cracking as she pulled the small diamond off of her left ring finger and deposited it onto the table, a lump forming in her throat. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she felt her hands begin to shake. She needed to leave now, before she broke down, because once she did, she wouldn't be stopping any time soon.
"G- Ginny, will you come by the flat and p- pick up his things tomorrow? I- I can't see him again s- so soon.", Hermione choked out, tears beginning to fall freely from her eyes now. Ginny nodded, her small hands curling into fists as she watched her closest girlfriend in pain. Ron was going to pay for this, Ginny just hadn't figured out how yet. That didn't matter though, because George seemed equally as angry as Ginny felt, and with one of the most notorious pranksters since the Marauders at her side, things at the Burrow were about to become very interesting.
Hermione gave her friend a watery smile before waving the trio a silent goodbye. She flew out the front door and ran down the driveway beyond the security permitter. With a crack she had disappeared, the uncomfortable sensation of Apparation overwhelming her and stealing the breath from her lungs. With a thud Hermione landed in the bedroom of her and Ron's flat. An anguished sob escaped her lips as she dropped onto the bed and buried her face into a pillow, shutting out the light of the fading twilight along with the pain of her broken heart.