Round one of Quidditch has finally started! I don't have much to say except a quick word of thanks to my dear betas, MsHologramRibs and MaryandMerlin. You two are the best!
Disclaimer: I have stated this before and I will state this again, if I owned Harry Potter, me and Sirius would be happily married and I'll give Remus to Shannel ;D
Written for Round 1, Quidditch
Team/Position: Chudley Cannons, Beater 1
Task: Write about another team members favourite character or pairing.
Pairings: RonxHermione, past HermionexDraco
Word Count: {Needed: 900-3000} 924, wow, I barely reached the minimum.
Prompts:
Memory [The word]
No dialogue [Restriction]
{Lol, I just realized I used the word change in here, which was another prompt, alas, it wasn't on purpose}
Also writen for Assignment six, Defence Against the dark arts, Hogwarts
Current Assignment - #6: The Killing Curse
due: Friday 27th March 2015
Results will be posted on: Wednesday 1st April 2015
Brief Lesson: You guessed correctly - for this assignment, we will be focusing on the Killing Curse; Avada Kedavra. When cast successfully, the curse causes instantaneous death. The only known counter spell is sacrificial protection, which uses the magic of love.
Task: For this task, I want you to write about loss. This can be loss in any sense, such as losing a loved one to death or disease, or even losing them to another person, or they leave on their own terms. It doesn't matter how the loved one is lost, so long as loss is the key theme.
Word Count: Minimum 600 words.
IMPORTANT NOTES: As with the last assignment, this could potentially spark some triggering stories. Please remember to use necessary warnings when submitting your story.
No more than a memory
He could never forget her. The way she used to smile at him, like he was the only important thing in the world. The way her soft brown eyes would twinkle when he told a particularly funny joke. The way her lips tasted, soft but firm with a slight hint of peppermint and vanilla. The way she used to arch her body into his whenever he ran his pale fingers through her long, bushy brown hair.
She was no longer his. All they had been through together, all they had shared together; now, no more than a memory. A beautiful, beautiful memory. Sometimes, Draco preferred those memories over reality.
It had been his mistake that drove her away. It had been his fault, all his fault. If he hadn't yelled at her that night, she wouldn't have run off. If she hadn't run off, that bloody Weasley wouldn't have had the chance to comfort her. It was his fault, he had given the git a chance to steal Hermione away, and broke his own heart in the process.
Draco's fist slammed into the table, his eyes ablaze with fury as he remembered how he had found her, sprawled out with the Weasley's arms wrapped possessively around her slim waist. The already cracked table creaked under the pressure.
She didn't speak to him once she woke up, she didn't even look him in the eye. A few days later he saw it in the Daily Prophet, that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had become the new 'it', they were a couple. He threw the paper into the fireplace, watching it burn to ashes as his anger and fury raged inside him.
She had loved him and he had let her down. Now, it was too late for regrets, too late for apologies, too late for change.
Draco looked around. This is what he's been reduced to, living in an old, abandoned house the size of a shed, the structure only a few years short of falling apart completely. Empty and half empty bottles of Firewhiskey rolled around on the cracked table, one of the bottles had fallen earlier, shards of glass shattered everywhere. Draco reached into his tattered blue jeans, he had worn wizard robes before, but he couldn't afford it anymore, and pulled out a few dirty bronze knuts. Once again, he was out of money, now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen a sickle in years, never mind a galleon! He didn't need money anyway, he only used it to buy alcohol and to pay for the Daily Prophet. Those were the only things he needed now. The alcohol to ease the pain and the newspaper to keep in contact with the wizarding world, or more specifically, to try and catch a glimpse of Hermione in the paper.
He almost killed the barn owl delivering the Daily Prophet that evening when he saw the cover of the front page. Two people were kissing passionately, the female he instantly recognized as Hermione, the male, he recognized as the git, Ron. Since this was a wizard picture, it moved. He could see the way Hermione melted into the kiss, how she arched her back against the stone wall in the background, it was enough to make Draco's blood boil. Draco clenched the paper tightly, the image of anyone kissing his Hermione other than him was too painful. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him with a dagger, right in the heart. Oh wait, he didn't have a heart anymore. He had given his to Hermione, and she had given hers to him. He had shattered her heart into a million pieces, leaving nothing to mend and she in turn, had broken his into even smaller fragments than he had hers.
He had nothing left. His heart was gone, leaving a hole that seems to be eating him from the inside. His youth and handsomeness was gone, it had slowly started to fade the moment he saw Hermione and the bloody Weasley, walking hand in hand. His fortune, it was also gone, he had been disowned for her. He had been kicked out of the Malfoy family for dating a mudblood. The only thing he had left was his memories. Those sweet, sweet memories.
He was no longer Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy had died long ago. He was just a shell of what he once was. He was just a shell filled with bitterness and memories that shouldn't have existed.
The paper arrived once more the next day, this time by the talons of a large snowy owl. Draco looked at the front page, his eyes widened and his hands shook. The paper fell to the dirty floor, Draco didn't even bother to burn it. The headline had been enough to shock him, but the picture. The picture was what killed him. A beautiful woman in a stunning white wizarding wedding gown, her once bushy brown hair now curled elegantly, framing her face beautifully. She was standing beside a red haired man, his freckled face glowing in happiness. They were married. Hermione, his Hermione was married. The bottle of Firewhiskey he was holding fell to the floor, he followed soon after. His eyes closed, remember her again. Her face, her smile, her eyes, she was his last thought before he died.
Nobody ever discovered the body of Draco Malfoy. A few years later, the house collapsed. The bottles of Firewhiskey, an edition of the Daily Prophet and the body of a blonde haired man were buried forever.
-blinks- Okay, I did not mean for it to turn out this way. I just started writing and then I couldn't stop, when I finished, I ended up with this. :P Well, that was tragic. Hopefully the next one will be more...light...
-Until next time, Magnolia
