Disclaimer: I own a fuzzy cow, and Draco Molefoy… the mole I made for my chemistry class. MUAHAHAHAHAH. And, I think all the characters I'm using belongs to a lady named Rolling, I can never remember.
Rating: PG-13 only because I want to be safe and not have parents rip me apart after their children read this and die a terrible death.
Author: You can call me Gondor… I'm away! Like a birdie!
Title: Animus Effluo because it sounds cool, and it's cool, like me. cough
Dedicated to: The people in Asia who were affected by the earthquake (8,000 people have been killed thus far)… and my English teacher, who has a plot against me. glances around nervously
And this is my first time at fan fiction, so please think of some constructive criticism that you can send me! Thanks!
She glares at him through her teary eyelashes. Although the tears are long gone from her cheeks, he can see the marks they left behind when they dried.
It was too much. She thought that they would be able to put aside their differences and make their relationship work… but it was all for naught.
He hesitantly takes a step towards her, waiting for her consent. Her mouth pinches into a thin line. Taking another step, he reaches out a hand and caresses her shoulder. His eyes darken, and a storm begins to arise when she flinches at his touch.
She knows he's hurt by her reaction, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care anymore about matters pertaining to him.
Yet she still does. No matter how much she tries to stop… tries to deny it…
He clears his throat. "Hermione, I…"
She can't hold in her tears any longer. After all she's seen, she breaks down as soon as he starts to talk.
"Not this time… not again…" And without a last glance back, she pushes hurriedly against him and runs out of the room.
It was during sixth year when they had started this romance. On his part, it had begun as a mere fantasy, to see how far he would be able to drag her along. He bargained too much, and found himself falling head over heels for her.
At first he didn't understand what was so intriguing about her. She wasn't the prettiest girl he had dated, nor did she have as much experience as he did in the art of kissing.
But as he spent more and more time with her, walking in the grounds, studying together, he understood.
It was the simple trust she had in him, the faith. All the other girls he had dated were always somewhat nervous whenever they were around him. They couldn't trust themselves to believe that he would be faithful to them, what with half the school pining away for him. There was also the fact that she always believed he would make the right decision. She never gave up hope for him.
For almost two years they had kept silent about the whole ordeal. The only people who knew were her two best friends and a couple of his own friends. Had anyone else known, their relationship would have been blown out of proportion.
Although her friends weren't happy with the development at first -- neither were his – they slowly adjusted for the new man in her life. They were a bit disappointed that she hadn't picked one of their own, a Gryffindor, or even a Ravenclaw to go out with. After the initial shock had worn off, her friends were a lot more wary of him than before. They thought that he was using her, and tried to dissuade her from the relationship.
But by that time, they had already been going out for at least three months, and had been meeting in secret. They usually talked in whispers unless they were sure that there was no way someone could eavesdrop. He never minded.
During seventh year, it became easier to meet her, as they were both Head Girl and Head Boy. Their relationship flourished, and her friends knew it was a lost cause.
He sighes as he placed the cup of pumpkin juice on the table and shifts his position to be more comfortable.
It was the graduation ball, the day before all the seventh years left for the real world, and so far nothing eventful had happened.
Sure, Neville Longbottom tripped over his date Padma Patil and went headfirst into the snacks, and Professor Vector drank a little too much and started to sing about a mandrake and a thestral until he was escorted out.
Frustrated by the lack of events, he decides to take a breather and walks out onto the grounds. As the cool breeze ruffles through his hair, he starts to think of her once again. Strange, he hadn't seen her at the ball since she walked out well over forty-five minutes ago.
Suddenly he hears a noise coming from somewhere to his right; he walks over, behind a flower bush.
She's crying, the trees freely rolling down her face, and muttering about something… her hair's a mess, and her clothes are all rumpled up. He wonders what happened to her.
"Hermione…" He says cautiously, caressing her hand. She looks up and abruptly pulls her hand out of his grasp as soon as she realizes who it is. He doesn't expect any reaction out of her; she's usually quiet when she's sad.
"No… you… you… How could you?" She screams at him, and starts pounding on his chest with her two small fists.
Bewildered, he looks down at her and at her tear-stricken face. "What did I do?" He whispers into her hair as his arms snake around her frame.
Without warning she pushes against him, and looks into his face. He stares back at her, losing himself in the depths of her eyes….
The contact is broken as she turns and runs across the grounds of Hogwarts, never even stopping once to look back. For a moment he is surprised at her sudden reaction, but he soon runs after her, catching up on the ground he lost.
Already the knight bus has rolled up outside Hogwarts' outer gates, and she hurriedly runs in. He reaches the bus as soon as the doors close. He feels her eyes on him and he turns toward her, towards the window that separates them.
The palm of her hand is flat against the window as she looks at him with her eyes wide. He looks down at her palm and puts his own hand against the window so that they would have been touching had there not been glass between them.
As the bus starts to move, she says something. He can't hear her, but he looks at the movement of her lips.
"I trusted you, Draco."
With a final glance from Hermione, the knight bus disappears from sight with a small crack.
It had been less than a year since he last saw her at Hogwarts, and many things had changed during that time. His father had been sent to Azkaban for the second time with a life sentence for his role in the conspiracy against Harry Potter.
Fresh out of Hogwarts, the young Draco Malfoy had learned to juggle the financial aspect and all the duties that went into becoming the head of a pureblood family. He couldn't say that he didn't particularly enjoy it, because he did. But there was always the lingering feeling that something was missing, and had been missing for a long time. Of course, he thought he knew what it was, but it was something that could not be helped or fixed through his own powers.
Striding through the halls of Malfoy Manor, Draco stopped in front of his mother's suite. She had taken ill soon after hearing about his father's imprisonment.
Draco wouldn't say that he had a normal childhood, because he didn't. His earlier years had been filled with horror and grief. There were always those times of happiness, but that had been before his father divulged into the dark arts.
The relationship between his parents had never been very typical either. Narcissa Black had been a Ravenclaw back in her school years until she switched to Slytherin a few years into her education. Draco never fully understood why, and he wasn't sure whether his mother wanted to tell him about it either. Nevertheless, she met Lucius Malfoy, and they married a couple years later in a grand ceremony.
Unlike what most other people said, his parents loved each other. They never did anything in public, but in the privacy of their home, Draco would often find his parents staring into each other's eyes. These moments dwindled when Lucius became a death eater. Their love wasn't as strong as before, and his mother would often walk around the house as if in a stupor whenever he went off to the death eater meetings.
Now his father was in prison and his mother stayed in her room. He entered his mother's drawing room after knocking softly on the oak doors leading in.
"Morning, mother. Wonderful day today." Draco said gaily as he opened the curtains that covered the windows, letting the warmth of the sun pierce into the room. Even with the sudden sunlight, Mrs. Malfoy didn't flinch, or show awareness that someone else was in the room with her.
Draco went over to his mother and kneeled by the chair she was sitting in. "Mother… you can't do this anymore. It's not… healthy." He finished lamely, looking up into his mother's face. Over the years, her flawless face had started to show signs of aging, and several wrinkles were already apparent.
Draco stayed next to Narcissa, keeping her company when a house elf walked nervously into the room.
"Mr. M- Malfoy, sir. I'm v-very s-sorry to bother you, but… but t-there's something you really o-ought to see." The rather lanky house elf stammered out.
He turned toward his mother. "I'll be right back."
As he followed Mindy the house elf throughout the house and towards the kitchens, Draco was disconcerted. Today was a Saturday, he usually did not work on weekends, and he did not keep company over often unless necessary.
When the smell of food wafted up into his nose, Draco could not keep silent any longer. "Why are we going into the kitchen, Mindy?" They stepped into the kitchen.
"Over there, s-sir." Mindy pointed over to a countertop where a basket was set; something was moving.
Draco cautiously went over to the basket and peeked inside. What was in there surprised him.
"Bloody hell…" He looked inside again just to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating.
But there it was -- a baby. The baby looked up at him and gave a scrutinizing look as if to make sure he was a decent person or not. Draco must have passed, because the baby started to smile. It had gray eyes, his eyes.
Instantly, Draco realized who the mother was, and where the baby had come from.
Hopefully I'll be able to continue as that is my plan so far.
Please review, and give constructive criticism as to how I can improve. Thank you!
You can reach me at frozeninside (at) gmail. com… call me fruit cake…