Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. Fool. What is the point of a disclaimer? Obviously, I don't own HP.
And Then, After The War.
Madison Square.
Dear Ms. Granger, the letter had read, We are very pleased to inform you that the faculty at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has selected you to be Head Girl for the year 1997. Upon boarding the Hogwart's Express, please make your way to the front car, where the prefects and Head Boy will reside. You were thrilled. When you showed your parents the letter, they were thrilled as well. You wondered who the Head Boy would be.
Sharing a common room with Draco Malfoy has proven difficult. On that first day, after the Great Feast, you had tried to say goodnight, and he had shut the door very quietly in your face. He is quiet now, and very, very pale. You wonder what could possibly have happened during the War to him. But then, of course, you realize that everyone knows his father had been killed by Dumbledore (and Dumbledore by him) and his mother was in Azkaban and that he had to live with the Zabini's, now, because his home was being torn apart by the Ministry.
Ron kisses you lightly on your cheek when you meet him in The Three Broomsticks. It is just you and he tonight. No one else to intrude. No one else to question. He loves you, even if he is awful at showing it. But then you see Malfoy with his sleeves rolled up in a corner booth with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, and your evening is ruined. Ron kisses you lightly on your cheek when you leave, and the image of a black skull on pale white skin stays with you through the night.
Harry and Ron and you stay in the Head Boy and Girl's common room because they have a Potions essay due tomorrow that they haven't yet started and you feel guilty about not spending enough time with them. Is this right? they ask. You glance at their papers and nod, and then resume reading the Revised Hogwarts, A History. It contains the War, and you want to know as much as you can. And then Malfoy walks out of his room, and Zabini follows closely, and you wonder what the boys have been up to.
When you walk into the common room, you see Malfoy lying on the couch, head in Parkinson's lap, and Zabini perched on the arm of the seat closeby. Malfoy looks like he's asleep. Parkinson is tracing something with her finger near her elbow on the sleeve of her collared shirt. Zabini stares into the empty fireplace. You close the door to your room so they can't hear you pace as you recite the ingredients to the Invisibility Potion, and you think you understand.
One week later, when you walk into the common, Malfoy is lying very, very still near the fire, his head in Pansy's lap, his blood staining the carpet. You gasp and Pansy turns her head towards you. She has not been crying. He was just trying to get rid of it, she says. She leans down to kiss his forehead. You run and call the teachers.
Snape is trying to coax Pansy into letting go of Malfoy, but she won't. It's dark outside, she says, and I'm afraid. Blaise is there as well, but has been in the corner crying since the teachers first arrived. McGonagall and Snape and the others all stand around Pansy, unsure of how to handle the situation. Pomfrey has already left. Malfoy is already dead.
Finally, at dawn. She starts to cry.
You fool. You could never understand.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. My second ever HP fanfic. I'm very proud of myself. BTW, Malfoy is a Sexy Beast. And so are Fred and George.
Constructive Criticism is appreciated.
Please Review!
--Madison Square