*Disclaimer- I already tried Polyjuice Potion and it was great while it lasted. But without it, I own nothing of Harry Potter
A/N- This fanfic is my take on a bit of angst. The story came to me randomly so I hope it's good. Also a bit of fluff because I can't write without a little fluff. Draco turns VERY soft; I guess that's just how I often write him. Enjoy!
After The Dark
The War destroyed everything. Families were ripped apart and people were left without their loved ones. Blood stained the walls of Hogwarts, haunting the memories of all who were there. So began the cleanup of the great castle, but the past still lingered in the dust and the blemishes of the conflict. Tears washed the faces of the dirty and flowers laid upon the dead, soaked away their suffering. The spectators of the war and fighting, of the death and dying, of the terrible treachery, knew better than to talk. They simply watched on as a viewer would watch a television as others collected their dead and huddled in groups as they prayed. The wind whispered across the lake and the forest. The cries of death echoed in their ears so they let the wind, the trees, the lake, and the creaking castle do the talking.
The children that were adults during the war were once again juveniles. Teenagers that yet again became those that needed a shoulder to lean on and a hug to cry into. Draco Malfoy had no one though. He, like almost everyone else, fell silent, but he fell permanently mute. He blamed himself for what had happened. When the last raid of the war took place, both of his parents were killed. Murdered by the very people they had served for years. Lucius had always said they had to be on the winning side to come out, but Narcissa declared she would never be a death eater. And so, during the last attack, his sturdy father and his warm, loving mother were taken from him.
It was all his fault.
All his fault.
All his fault.
He sat alone in the bare castle. He watched from a window in a deserted classroom, the lake and its glistening blue water. He watched the giant squid lazily glide along, creating ripples across the loch. He could only watch, he couldn't sigh or cry, only watch. Nor could he talk. He could only listen, but only once in a while would footsteps be heard as they walked the empty hallways. Being so depressed, he had made himself mute and now he was completely emotionless.
Standing, Draco walked slowly from the room and down a deserted corridor. His bare feet slipped across the stone, walking like a ghost; making no sound. His face was set in an emotionless stare as he padded down the hallway to a place he didn't know. Rounding a corner, he came through a beautiful stone arch. He paid no heed to the architecture but continued when a witch came into his view. It had only been three days since the War, and Draco had kept himself separate from everything and everyone. But there, there sat Hermione Granger, the heroine of the war, the brightest witch of her age, best friend to Harry Potter. She sat upon a stone ledge, legs dangling into a small courtyard. She was watching him, her eyes watching him.
"Draco," Was all she said. An emotion issued from within him. Surprise. After the deaths, all he felt was self-hate. And then he felt nothing. His heart tore.
"Come sit," Hermione patted the ledge next to her. Draco sat without thinking, without actually seeing. "I heard what happened," She said softly, "I'm sorry."
He looked at her, wonder evident in his eyes. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wandering from her lap to his face. She gave him a small smile. Why was she even talking to him? He was from the bad side, the losing side. Shouldn't she be with Potter and Weasley? With her friends and family? But here she was, sitting beside him, talking to him like they were old friends. She spoke again as if reading his mind.
"It's ok, it doesn't matter anymore. The war is over now and we don't have to be enemies anymore." She was looking at her lap again. She was kind, he knew that, and now she was showing this sympathy to him. Suddenly tears pricked at his eyes.
It's all my fault
He mouthed it to her. It was the first time he would ever admit such a thing; she was just so caring and understanding.
It's all my fault
"It's not your fault," She retorted softly, "Nothing is. This whole bloody war is nobody's responsibility."
My parents, they're dead, gone, and it's all my fault
"No it's not. Look at me." She locked his eyes with hers. "Your parents loved you. Your mother kept Harry alive because of you. They lived and died for you. None of this was your mistake and you shouldn't believe that it is!" Hermione looked at him, sincerity flowing through her mellifluous voice. "Talk to me, I know you can. You just have to try. Try for me, please." Tears jerked from his eyes, but he didn't have any shame in her presence. He nodded. He would try.
"Th." It was the first noise he had made during the past few days. "Tha. Tha. Tha." He croaked out the sounds, trying desperately to form words. "Tha. Nn. Ka. Sss. Than. Thank. Thanks. Thanks." He cried out the words, choking them from his throat. Hermione opened her mouth in an inaudible gasp and threw her arms around the shaking boy. "You did it!" She cried, her face glowing in happiness. Happiness for him. Only him. So for the first time in months, Draco smiled.
"Talk," She suggested, "Listen to your voice again." He let everything fly from his mouth.
"Thank you," He whispered tears blotting his vision, "You, you…" He trailed off. Glancing up to her face, he swiftly cradled her face in his hands and planted a tiny kiss on her lips before the retreat of his arms to his side. After the surprise of the abruptness to the gesture, Hermione let her own arms come to his face and pull his sight to her again.
"You did all you could. Now let's look to the future and the light. The dark has come and gone and next comes the light. Come on, join me in my future." She had let go of his face and now she held out her hand to him. Draco looked at it and hesitated before confirming and taking the soft skin. Together they stood and together they went.
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