Chapter 1
To him, fate was a cruel thing. It had turned his world completely upside down in the past six years of his life. Who had caused him such misery? Voldemort would be the number one cause, he knew that for sure.
He wished his mother were still there. 'Hush, Draco,' she would say in a comforting voice when he was upset, and she would put her arm around him and sing to him.
But now she was gone. Whose fault had that been? Draco was used to blaming others. He generally refused to admit that it was his fault. Except this time. He knew it was his fault she had died. That and his father's.
"Draco," a cold voice demanded.
The man looked up from the desk he was sitting at and his sorrowful gray eyes met his father's cold ones. "Yes, Father?"
"A letter," Lucius grunted, thrusting out his hand. Draco took it and slowly opened it, but then stopped and eyes his father.
"Privacy please?" he asked.
Lucius glared at his only son and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
With a sigh of relief that the man was finally gone, he finished opening the letter.
Draco,
I write to you now because I know we feel the same pain – the pain and the shame that immediately appeared after that cursed day. That day that – that –
Draco noticed the tear stains on the piece of parchment.
Sorry, I needed to get a hold of myself. Things are hard. You blame yourself do you not? I blame myself too. You have heard, I'm sure, but you need to hear it from me.
It happened almost eight weeks ago now, but the day is burned into my memory forever. I doubt even Obliviate would have the power to take this pain away. It was a Sunday. He always liked Sundays – it was a day where we would get together with his family and all of our friends, and have a delicious dinner in the evening while the kids played and us adults gossiped and told each other about the week.
And then we got the call. You, of all people, should know that being an Auror is hard work. When we were called, I begged him not to go. He refused and instead told me to stay behind. But I insisted, telling him that I am only six weeks pregnant and that everything will be fine. Because he can never say no to me, he allowed me to come.
We arrived to see the whole house on fire. I began to cry, because I knew this house. This was the house I had grown up in. Knowing my parents were in there almost killed me right then and there. And that was when things got worse. Several former Death Eaters – I'm sorry to say that I am positive your father was among them – came out and shot spells at us from every direction. If it weren't for him, I – and the baby – would be dead right now. One of them came out from nowhere and I did my best to duel with them, but I was a little slow on my game and got hit with a stunning spell, right in the stomach. It burned my very soul, and I cried out, hoping that I would survive, if only to help the little one inside of me.
He noticed my pain. He single-handedly stunned every Death Eater there – and there must have been at least thirty – and rushed to my side. But one of them was still conscious. He came over and – he – he killed him, Draco! His back was turned to the man, so I saw his last breath, I saw his eyes glaze over, and he fell over, our hands still intertwined.
Thankfully, by then backup had arrived and the Death Eaters were, for the most part, taken away, and my parents had been at the supermarket so they were fine. But, he – he is gone, Draco. And it is my fault. My child will know no father.
I am sorry for troubling you so. I will have a hard time sending this, and I do and you read it – well, keep it to yourself, please, Draco. This is just too large of a burden for me to bear. I have told one other person though – You and Harry, of all people, would know my pain the most. I miss your mother too, Draco. Remember that, and remember Ron. He was a brave man.
Your Friend,
Hermione Jean Granger
A/N: I know. I'm really bad at maintaining stories, but this idea popped into my head and I decided to try it.
