Draco Malfoy slammed the door of the Slytherin common room as soon as he got in. Stomping up to the boys' dormitories, he made sure to slam that door as well. Seeing that no one was in the closely packed dormitory, Draco cast a quick invisibility charm around the perimeter of his bed, making sure it was cast perfectly before he sank down on the bed. Draco grunted, sliding his hands through his white-blonde hair in frustration.
He knew what was going to happen. Hell, he knew a long time ago. Even before Snape killed Dumbledore for him. As soon as Voldemort gave him the task, he knew he could not go through with it. Sure, it was bloody Dumbledore, and he would have never been Draco's choice to be headmaster of the bloody school he was forced to go to, but still. Dumbledore kept this school... dare he say... Dumbledore kept this school sane. And with Voldemort's task at hand, even if it meant Draco's own death if he didn't accomplish it successfully... He couldn't do it.
Draco was sure he would die because of his failed task, but when Snape pulled him aside to tell him about his bloody "brave" promise that he made with Draco's Mum, Draco didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Fucking relief? No. Not on his own life. Why did Snape need to cut into his task? Voldemort put him, not Snape up to it. And Draco had been doing fine by himself.
Draco cut into his thoughts forcefully, laughing sourly. Bloody confident, aren't we, Draco.
But, at the same time, although Draco would vow not to tell anyone this until the day his grave was made, Draco was impressed, and a tad more than relieved due to Snape's promise. It was the Unbreakable Vow, and that took a shitload of courage to muster up to. And Snape... vowing to do this to protect him, Draco Malfoy. Draco quickly pushed it out of his mind. Snape clearly only did it simply to be trusted by Voldemort. Why would Snape even want to protect Draco if he was given the choice? That's right, Snape wouldn't even spare him a look if Draco wasn't the most popular Slytherin at Hogwarts.
But now Voldemort knows that Draco didn't carry through with the task. And Voldemort was angry, not to mention seeking revenge on Draco for his little pussy-out. Voldemort would find him, Draco knew. Draco knew that Voldemort would find him, and, to put it in the briefest way possible, Voldemort would attempt to kill him for his failed deed.
That's why Draco couldn't stay at Hogwarts. If he did, Voldemort would be sure to find him, and along with killing Draco, he'd blow up a healthy portion of the school for pure amusement. As much as Draco wanted to have confidence in himself that he wouldn't care one bit if Hogwarts was shooken up a bit, he knew that if the school fell down, it would settle into him that the War was going to start. It would be a reality check. And Draco was trying to steer clear of those. He didn't want those because he wanted to delay it from his mind as long as possible.
Draco was scared, to tell the truth. And Draco hated being scared. It made him weak. Draco gritted his teeth and threw a punch at the walls of the dormitory, making a slight dent. Draco dismissed it roughly; he'd fix it with magic a bit later. He grunted, and smacked down on the bed again, a little harder than necessary. It honestly wasn't a good idea for him to be alone with his thoughts. They seem to trail by themselves without any consciousness of it.
Drifting back into his dangerous mind, he thought about his parents. His fucking parents wouldn't even take him in, being too bloody obsessed and devoted to the Dark Lord. Bullshit. They were just scared about what would happen to them if they disobeyed orders and went against Voldemort's instructions.
So, at the moment, Draco had nowhere to go. He hated to admit it, but it was true. Hogwarts isn't safe for him, his fucking house isn't even safe for him. Where else could he go? Nowhere. He had nowhere.
Draco checked his bedside clock impatiently. Draco was waiting for Snape to come up to his dormitory to collect him. Snape was going to take him somewhere where Draco wouldn't be found. Somewhere safe where Voldemort, including his Death-Eaters would not be able to track down Draco. In frustration, Draco took another look at the clock. Noticing that the second hand had barely moved, Draco took a swing at his clock, knocking it clean off his bedside drawer. Watching it tumble to the floor without a fight sent a wave of satisfaction running through his body.
Knowing Snape, Draco knew he shouldn't be putting too much trust into the Potions professor. Severus was a Death-Eater, after all.
Not that Draco wasn't though. A Death-Eater, that is. He pulled his left sleeve up to his elbow and grimaced at the reminder. The ugly black skull, surrounded by the snakes. It was still in his skin. Engraved in there. He didn't have any hope it would be leaving soon, either.
[~]Hermione Granger took in a deep breath. It was now or never.
"'Mione! Supper's done, come on down, hun!" Hermione heard from downstairs. Her Mum and Dad were the only people, not counting Harry and Ron, that called Hermione by "Mione". Even with Harry and Ron, it was rare for them to utter the nickname. "Mione" didn't sound right coming from anyone else's mouths.
Hermione closed her eyes, savoring her Mother's musical voice for as long as possible.
"Coming Mum!" she choked out, holding back on the tears.
Hermione slowly walked down the stairs, dragging her stuff quietly behind her. She was trying to throw every detail of her house that she's lived in her whole life into her already scattered and disordered brain.
The stain on the carpet right at the landing of the stairs, where she spilt her apple juice when she was eight. They never could get it out, and they eventually gave up, too lazy to buy another carpet.
The little chip in the wood staircase where Hermione threw one of her worst tantrums. Her little ten year old self wished that her parents would leave her alone. She got so mad that she purposely cried in agony and ripped a chunk of the staircase off as if to prove a point. She got so mad that she told them to just leave, please, and never come back to look after her. She remembered it clearly, and she laughed bitterly at the irony of it all.
As she neared the bottom stair, she also neared the black streak in the wall that would never come out, no matter how hard her Mum and Dad tried. That was the first time she did magic. Hermione, at almost eleven years old, was shocked and speechless at the black, almost lightning mark she etched into the wall simply by staring at it. She didn't mean it, really. It just happened. She wished she could go back to that moment right now, where she was so tiny, so naïve about magic. Back then, she didn't know that while magic was a wonderful and fantastic thing, there would always be the dark, wrong side to that. The Dark Magic she didn't even have a care about when she was that ten year old with no cautions in the world.
Hermione smiled faintly, remembering her other spill with the apple juice near the living room wall, where she first got her Hogwarts acceptance letter. When her parents told her, she gasped in surprise, and dropped another glass of apple juice as she was first told that she was a witch.
Passing all the family photos, the first tear streaked down her cheek, but she softly wiped it away. She couldn't make noise. She wanted it to be quick and painless for her parents, and not seeing her when she cast the spell would be the best way. She crept up to the living room couch. She smiled sadly again. The tradition was that they always had their lunches on the coffee table in front of the sofa, facing the television. When Hermione was about four years old, she would not eat unless it was in front of the TV, watching a cartoon show. After that, the habit just stuck and nobody ever bothered to change it.
Hermione took a silent breath, slowly lifting her wand arm. She pointed her shaky hand with the wand at the space in between her parents' head.
Her Dad said something, and her Mum laughed heartily. Hermione faltered, but mentally slapped herself at her procrastinating. She had to get this over with. Over with so they could live a safe life. Away from her.
"I love you both so, so much," Hermione whispered quietly. Or maybe she said it in her mind. She couldn't remember.
"Obliviate."
She watched in agony as her face disappeared from all the family pictures. She watched in agony as every trace of her left the remnants of her house where she grew up.
There. Now they could go to Australia with different names. Nobody would be able to track them there. Not even Hermione. Soon, all of these memories, the apple juice stains, the unintended magic, the tantrums, would not even be mere memories in her parents' mind.
Hermione realized the tears were falling steadily now. Shocked at her weak composure, she whispered "I love you" one final time. She then grabbed her bags filled with her remaining possessions and sprinted out the door into the already setting Sun.
[~]"Draco. Where in the bloody name of Merlin are you." a young, black-haired witch hissed, annoyed at the lack of the blonde haired wizard's presence in the room.
Draco snapped his head up, breaking away from his trance. Pansy. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Draco stood up abruptly, sending his bed into a creaking frenzy.
"Hell, Draco. I can bloody here you."
Double fuck. Draco huffed, and undid the invisibility charm around him. "Pansy," he addressed curtly.
"Draco! What the bloody Hell are you telling Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise these days?" Pansy was too winded up to bother questioning his invisibility charm. Her icy voice whipped in his direction, making him wince slightly.
"What the fuck, Pansy."
"They're telling me that you're bloody leaving Hogwarts!"
Oh. That.
"Right... uhm, Pansy." Draco muttered with a hint of sheepishness.
"Shit! They weren't lying?" Pansy shrieked, worriedly.
"Calm the Hell down, Parkinson." Draco snarled.
"Don't. Call me Parkinson."
"Pansy. Whatever. They're not lying, and I didn't tell them that to just try to mess with their brains. Even though it would be tempting." Draco smirked faintly.
Pansy's jaw fell slack to the ground. "Don't even joke about this right now, Draco, I-"
"Shut your trap and listen. I'm leaving this bloody school that is no use in my life." The words tumbled out of his mouth easier than he thought they would. "There. Happy?"
"Fuck you, Draco. Take me with you, then."
"Pansy, I fuckingcan't."
"Bullshit. Where are you going? Of course you can take me with you."
"PANSY! I TOLD YOU I FUCKING CAN'T! WHAT DON'T YOU GET OUT OF THAT." Draco yelled, balling his hands into fists. He needed to hit something. Now.
"THE WHOLE THING. WHY WON'T YOU TAKE ME WITH YOU. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Pansy replied back with equal force.
"I. Don't. Know. Okay, I don't know where I'm going," Draco growled. His hands were so tight that his knuckles were turning white.
"Don't lie to me, Draco. I'm your bloody girlfriend, you don't need to lie to me."
"I TOLD YOU, I BLOODY DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GOING. AND YOU ARE NOT MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU WERE JUST A TIMELY FUCK HERE AND THERE."
Pansy's face faltered, but it was quick, barely noticeable. "I don't believe you," she muttered quietly.
"SHIT, PANSY. WHAT DON'T YOU GET. I WAS USING YOU. THERE. NOW IT'S PLAIN AND CLEAR. I WAS FUCKING USING YOU."
Pansy's face fell. She roughly brought her thumbs up to her eyes, wiping them quickly. "Fuck you, Draco," she said for the second time that night. With that, she ran out of the dormitory.
Draco considered going after her. Going after her and apologizing, having one more fuck before he had to leave. Besides, when he would get another fuck was unknown. Who knows where Snape was planning to take him. But Draco had too much pride for that. So he just sank down on his bed, making another dent identical to the one before on the exact same wall.
He realized he still had to pack. Snatching his wand up, he quickly waved it carelessly, watching everything pile into his trunk neatly. With another wave, he flicked it shut, and got started on repairing the wall.
"Malfoy." Snape's voice rose out of nowhere, snatching Draco out of his concentration. The wall wasn't perfect. Oh well, what did Draco bloody care.
"Time to go."
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