Just a small town girl
Livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere
Hermione Granger wasn't of the opinion that the Ministry was going to think much of her leaving her high-end apartment in the dead of the night. In fact, she could pretty much imagine what Kingsley Shacklebolt would say if he saw her now: one hand on the doorknob, the other clutching her wand, and a rather small suitcase lying at her feet. All in all, she bore a great look of secrecy.
"Lumos," she whispered, taking one last look at her surroundings. She wasn't sure when she'd be back, but it wouldn't be soon- she'd had enough. Enough of waking up alone to clean cream sheets, enough of pulling on standard Ministry robes before Apparating to work, enough of sympathetic stares and the whingy whining of Lavender at work. "You don't know what you're missing, Hermione." "Honestly, he's the best paid Quidditch player around!" "Chudley Cannons are going to win the League this year, Granger, and then you'll be sorry." Sorry? Didn't anybody know she was better off without Ron Weasley?
"I do, but I certainly don't think running away's a good compensation for it," said a voice. Hermione spun round, aiming her wand instinctively at the source.
"Oh, it's you," Hermione said, half-relieved, half-annoyed. She stowed her wand in her jeans pocket and turned back to the door, picking up her suitcase. "Nox. Go back to sleep, Ginny."
"I thought you'd have learnt not to put your wand there," Ginny continued humourlessly, though a slight smile flickered where the dim light of outside streetlamps fell on her face. "Better wizards have lost buttocks, you know! But anyway, I'm not going back to sleep. Not until you do."
"I've told you, Ginny," Hermione replied wearily, "I can't stay here any longer. I need a break. The Malfoy case is making the workload pile up and all Lavender does is whinge. Plus…" She trailed off, remembering who she was talking to. Sometimes, living with one's ex-boyfriend's sister was hard, even if she happened to be your best friend.
"Plus, you hate how everyone keeps telling you to get Ron back. I know," Ginny said. "Come away with Harry and I for the summer, Hermione. He's promised a good getaway, something with plenty of history and enough wine to get Hagrid drunk. Running away in the middle of the night's not going to do any good. What is it you're planning to do, anyway?"
"I-" Hermione stopped. She didn't want anybody knowing of her plans, not even her parents. At the thought of them, her stomach seemed to contract. She'd visited them just a few months ago, in the small town which had been her home before Hogwarts. They knew all about Ron, of course- when the Daily Prophet started spreading rumours about their relationship, she'd called her parents straightaway to clarify. But she knew they'd go bonkers if she told them about this. Not this time. "Don't worry about me, Ginny. Please? I'll be fine. Take care of Crookshanks."
Ginny nodded, her dark red locks shaking in the breeze. "I will." And so, she watched her best friend step out into the wild night, and close the door behind her.
Just a city boy
Born and raised in South Detriot
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere
Draco Malfoy blasted pebbles with his wand aimlessly as he walked down the garden path. Night had fallen, but generations before him, the Malfoys had enchanted glowing serpents to hover in the air at suggestive spots, lighting the way around the Manor's expansive gardens. Serpents. Draco scowled up at the lights and kicked a particularly large pebble at his feet. He wasn't scared of being heard; everybody else, from his parents to the house-elves, slept too far away to hear his agonizing. Not that they ever bothered, anyway. He scowled again.
Blast being a Malfoy! Blast that the only time he got to think was at night, when the sky fell dark and he was free from incessant gossip and slander. True, his parents were being Watched by the Ministry, to be called up for an extensive Hearing sometime that week. The tabloids were all over their downfall; the Daily Prophet seemed eager for news of how Draco, the young heir, was taking it. He had been freed from all charges, given his age at the time of offence, and an anonymous defence that Kingsley Shacklebolt accepted immediately. Nobody told, but Draco guessed it was Harry Potter. The Boy who lived… "I didn't need saving," Draco muttered.
He was a Malfoy, damn it, didn't anybody understand? The name of Malfoy didn't command as much respect as it used to. Heavens knew his father hated it, but nobody knew about Draco. He was tired of people slinking into the house late at night, or walking into the Library, only to see Disillusion Charms being removed and realize that he'd stumbled into a secret meeting of Death Eaters. Bellatrix was gone, and a couple others had either been killed or put into Azkaban the moment the War was over, but he knew it wasn't over in the others' hearts. In his parents'.
He needed space. Space from the papers, from his parents, from Astoria Greengrass, who kept calling and calling even when he'd told the house-elf to send her away.
And so here he was. Draco stared up at the imposing black gates and glanced back once at the silent Manor before passing through them. His Disillusion Charm had been cast, his suitcase packed- he was on his way. No one could stop him now.
