Disclaimer: The characters belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 2
Hermione's gone mad
Despite the mouth-watering breakfast in the dining table prepared by one of the maids from the Malfoy Manor, who came over everyday because of his mother's persistence, Draco can't seem to eat it. He had to admit that living alone in the big house was starting to be a hard struggle to live with everyday. It was only last year that he'd been able to leave the Malfoy Manor and decided to be independent despite his mother's disagreement. His mother was transferred to Hogwarts due to his persistence since it was not yet safe for her to live alone in their mansion. His father was locked up in Azkaban serving his sentence. Only housemaids were left in the mansion for its maintenance.
Since his father's imprisonment, he had started to enjoy the freedom he hadn't had the luxury to experience during his younger years. He had always been under his father's influence and manipulation. Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment was something he was not glad about but it still was a relief to know his father was far away from him.
Working at the Ministry of Magic as an Auror made Draco a busy man, busy enough to have no time for anything else other than chasing after the likes of his father. But when night came, he found it difficult to have a good sleep. The dark mark on his left arm was a memory he wanted to forget. Sometimes, he was visited by nightmares, where screams and pained cries of people whose death he witnessed continually drown him until he was gasping for breath. He would wake up panting and his cheeks were stained with sweat and tears. No one knew about it. He did not dare tell anyone, even Professor Dumbledore, who professed his wishes to help him forget his past and to forgive himself. In what way was this help, he didn't know. He was not interested. Maybe the old man knew something. But he tried so hard to close his mind for fear that Dumbledore might try taking a preview on his memories. For more than three years, he felt unsecured; he felt his hands were stained with blood. In the stillness of the day, the memories he wanted to bury flashed before him like it was only yesterday…
Draco felt miserable right after, thinking it was his entire fault that Death Eaters were given access to get inside Hogwarts. It was however, unfortunate for him because right after Snape and him disapparated from outside the grounds of Hogwarts, pursued by Potter and the hippogriff, they were suddenly standing in a large room. He noticed only one candle illuminated the room, its light more than enough for him to see Voldemort along with the supporters in masks waiting for him and Snape's arrival. He knew what to do the moment he was to stand in the presence of Voldemort: He had to close his mind, clear it off anything, even the slightest emotion possible that he felt at the moment.
"It felt good, isn't it? Witnessing the death of the greatest wizard whoever lived. It would even be greater to be the one to kill him though," Voldemort's voice was cold and his eyes in slits beneath the black cloak were looking directly at Draco. He wore an expression of utter pleasure and the smile on his thin lips was an indication.
Draco tried not to flinch at the sound of the voice; it was almost snake-like, murderous like nothing good would ever come out of it. It was filled with evilness. He tried to focus on where he was instead. It was an old house. He could tell by the old wood flooring and the walls that were deteriorating. From the lack of noise, he could guess that the house was located nowhere near any other houses and must have been miles away from the main road. He glanced around and saw his father smiling, more like smirking. The smirk was so familiar because it adorned Draco's face so often. Only that moment, he could not bring himself to put on the same smirk.
Notwithstanding the fact that he was not able to get the task assigned to him done, Voldemort was welcoming him like a hero. Standing his ground was all Draco could do. It was the worst part of his life, to be standing in the presence of the darkest wizard, the most evil. He could almost imagine himself floating into the air lifeless after being cursed to death due to his failure. But Voldemort's actions were contrary to what played in Draco's mind.
Snape, who did what Draco was supposed to do, which was to kill Dumbledore using the Avada Kedavra curse, stood beside him, his face also expressionless, and as cold as the night breeze may have been outside. The Death Eaters surrounding them were waiting, and watching as if something interesting is bound to happen. But Draco didn't care. He realized he did not want to kill Dumbledore after all. He didn't even want to be standing in there.
Fear of what is to come next was gripping his insides but he fought it. He wished Voldemort would not speak again for the snake-like voice was terrifying even without the ghastly appearance that was hidden behind the cloak: the skeletal face and disgusting skin, where his flesh hung loosely.
It was too late now, isn't it? It was either he's going to die or live the remainder of his life serving the evil wizard. As he stood there, awaiting the verdict, it did not matter for whatever reason he did what he did. To become the instrument to Dumbledore's death was as bad as killing him.
Snape looked anything but calm though and Draco realized he must calm himself for the mental battle had begun. Before thoughts of fear and regret could fully form into a complete thought making it known in the surface, clear enough for Voldemort to sense, he drove it away, burying them in the depths of his mind. If there was anything that he wanted Voldemort to sense, it was that he was rather proud of what he did yet he felt remorse for not killing Dumbledore with his own hands.
Repeatedly in his mind, he tried to get into character, concentrating hard to put on the act he wanted the wizard in front of him to believe. If there was one thing that Snape taught him during his sixth year, it was Occlumency and Legilimency. Certainly, the Dark Lord will try to read his mind. Draco tried hard to clear his mind of the guilt, of the fear and of the regret that was swallowing him whole. He knew for certain that Voldemort will not be pleased to sense such feelings.
Months of training under Snape paid off for Voldemort easily believed he was willing to support him. Draco felt he could go nowhere else and he could not stop what was about to happen next. Then he felt it, the searing pain on his left forearm. It was over before he even realized what had happened. Voldemort himself put the mark on his arm. He became one of them and the dark mark that was permanently imprinted on his left arm was the living proof.
What followed was by far the most difficult time of his life. He was brought along by the Death Eaters to witness their endeavors of torturing and killing muggles. He never took part in it; he merely stood there, and did nothing. He could not swallow the killings and sufferings of those who were victims of being different, for being non-magic people. He would rather hear Avada Kedavra countless times than the Cruciatus curse and the wailing that followed. Mudblood-killing was rampant for months and he could do nothing about it. He should have listened to Dumbledore. It was his foolishness and naïve belief that got in the way. To believe that killing someone was worth it to make his father proud was a waste. He did it all to keep his family safe from the wrath of Voldemort. Where it led him? To eternal death.
For seven months, he'd been in the company of the most evil of Death Eaters. By now, if Dumbledore were still alive, Hogwarts would have still been open and he would not have been a Death Eater.
Draco felt braver than he was when he came to a decision that he want out. He was ready to surrender to the Ministry of Magic, serve a life sentence in Azkaban and pay for all he has done. He thought it was better there than in the rotting place where they hide. But something happened.
"Draco, I know what you're planning to do. I advice that you listen to me first," Snape, who was looking rather pale, guided him inside an empty room, after making sure that all the other Death Eaters were outside hunting for preys and Voldemort was somewhere having a meeting with his most-loyal and trusted supporters and allies from different nations. It was unusual that Snape was not with them.
Apparently, Snape was told by the Dark Lord that the time has come for Draco to start killing muggles too. He was still thinking of this piece of information Snape told him when a mild shake on his shoulders jolted him out of his stupor. Snape disclosed to him that the death of Dumbledore was all a ploy to make the Dark Lord believe that it was safe to come out to the wizarding world. Since Dumbledore, the man Voldemort feared the most, exist no more, there was no need to live in hiding. And as expected, Voldemort believed as planned.
Draco was astounded. He could not explain what he felt at the thought that Professor Dumbledore was still alive, only hiding, biding his time. The old man was brilliant, having a plan to counter the dark side. Everybody, including him believed that the greatest wizard had died after being killed by Snape supposedly by the Avada Kedavra curse. But it was beyond a brilliant plan, a stage to set the final battle, a plan to disarm the dark side, a plan to catch them off guard. "I suggest that you continue blocking your mind as it will be dangerous for the both of us if the Dark Lord should learn about this. I'm still planning for our escape before the war begun." Snape's lips were formed into a tight line, looking grim but determined.
As the final battle drew near, Voldemort thought that it would be better for Draco to start killing mudbloods and muggles. It would make him a complete Death Eater. Draco knew this was coming as Snape told him, but not this soon. He would kill no one; he would not kill for Voldemort. It was revolting enough to think of having been the cause of Dumbledore's death, what more to kill with his bare hands. Even though he knew of the truth, he was, in the eyes of those who knew what happened at Hogwarts, the sole reason for all that has happened.
It was inevitable. The day has come for the truth to come out. Voldemort was furious; he was outraged when the news about Dumbledore still alive reached him. Before Draco could get a taste of such anger, Snape and he took hold of an old muggle newspaper. He was puzzled at first as to what the newspaper was needed for. "Today is the time that we meet with Dumbledore," Snape said, determined to get out of there unscathed, "and to never return to this wretched place again." When Draco touched the newspaper, which he realized was a portkey he felt his stomach being ripped off its place, his whole body jerked sideways. Then for a second, in a blurred vision, he lay still on the ground, he could smell the familiar scent of forest woods and fresh mowed grass. They were standing outside the grounds of Hogwarts. He looked at Snape who guided him to stand and they both walk towards the gate where they were welcomed by Hagrid. To Draco's surprise, he felt glad to see Hagrid but chose not to show it.
Once inside the castle, the corridors and the stairs all seemed to pass by so fast and before he knew it, they were inside Professor Dumbledore's office. He looked at the old man in disbelief. He was sure he saw the curse heat him squarely on the chest.
"Snape, well done," the old man seated behind the desk said, loud enough to break the trance. "Draco," his voice was old with age but he looked determined and serious, "I hope that you will join the Order of the Phoenix whose sole objective is to defeat Voldemort. As you may know, or maybe not, Snape here is a member of the Order."
"I know it must have been hard for you to be forced to serve Voldemort for several months. The time has come for you to prove where your loyalty truly lies. I know for a fact that you did not mean to do what you did. I saw you were in doubt, so unsure and were only acting out of fear for your family especially your mother's safety. I know you're not a killer Draco. I don't want you to blame yourself. If it weren't for you, our plan might not have worked. Though I'm very sorry you had to be brought into the play uninformed."
Draco was able to digest what he said but was unable to form a reply. He was thinking of his family, his mother. What would happen to her? Just then, someone came into the office that forced him to look at the sound of a door being opened. It was his mother. She looked terrified and at the same time glad to see him. She immediately approached Draco and hugged him tight. She whispered "I'm sorry for not being able to save you from becoming one of them, but I know Draco, I know you're not one of them, you never were. That mark is nothing more but a mark." She caressed the mark as though it wasn't there, as her tears begin to flow once more at the sight of the vicious mark. She was sobbing now and all he could do was hug her back. It somehow calmed him that there were two people who believed that he never became one of Voldemort's supporters: It was his mother and most of all, Professor Dumbledore.
"As I promised the last time we saw each other, your mother will be safe. About your father, I'm afraid I could not do anything about it…" he seemed regretful and saddened.
"Professor, I…I don't know what to say." There was a lump in his throat that he was even surprised he managed to speak. "Thank you for believing in me that much and for having me here again. It will be a privilege to work for the Order."
As though Professor Dumbledore did not want to waste any more time, he led Draco and Snape to one of the classrooms on the ground floor. The young members of the Order were there, training with the older ones. It was hard for Draco to take it all in at once, especially when all of them were shooting him not looks of rage but of pity and some where hard to read. He could not bring himself to look them straight in the eye. Unreadable expressions would have been more preferable than those of pity which was unmistakably there. He saw a lot of familiar faces. There was Harry, Ron, Hermione (the Golden Trio, of course, who he can't even bring himself to despise and mock now as he did before), Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Luna, Blaise, even Crabbe and Goyle, and many others, who were as young as he but showed utter determination to see to it that the evil would stop.
His gaze traveled back to Hermione, who was looking at him with nothing but a blank expression in her face. She was a Mudblood. He used to call her that and he sure was so pleased with himself to get to her whenever he had the chance. Chills run down his spine at the horrible memory of the deaths he witnessed. Many Mudblood died and he witnessed almost all of it. He felt ashamed of himself to be standing in her presence, to have made her life a living hell in the past.
At that moment, he swore, he would never ever call her a Mudblood again; he would never ever look down at her for he realized she was better than he could ever be after all of this. She had chosen a side right from the start. And it was the right side she had chosen while him, Draco, a guilt-filled and anti-social person he was to become eventually, had not even had the courage to say no to his father and decide for himself.
There were trainings and lessons on defenses against the dark arts. Hogwarts became the headquarters and a training ground for the upcoming battle. Crabbe and Goyle were once again behind him. He started to shun himself away from the others though in a discreet way. They were civil to him, and seemed to be not talking about anything that happened during their sixth year and his supposed service to Voldemort for a couple of months. Professor Dumbledore must have told them that he was a part of the plan and that what mattered was he chose the right side before the final battle.
So it came. The inevitable battle was sure to cause a lot of death on both sides. Voldemort was defeated by Harry with the help of Professor Dumbledore and his two best friends. The Order of the Phoenix succeeded in capturing almost all the Death Eaters including Draco's father. They all showed profound courage and unity. Draco had never been more proud of himself. Through Dumbledore's insistence and recommendation to the Ministry of Magic, Draco became an Auror. His loyalty may have been questionable but Dumbledore, seeing through recommended him for the job. . .
Here he was an Auror, still feeling miserable and remorseful about what he did a couple of years ago. He didn't socialize much with the other Aurors. The only time he would talk to them was during meetings when they go over the leads they received with regard to the whereabouts of Death Eaters.
Still seated at the dining room, he massaged his temple to relieve himself of the head ache that suddenly plagued him. His appetite had completely deserted him. The place he called home was both a comfort and a cause of suffocation. His heart sank at the unpleasant sight of the mess that littered his living room.
Leads as to the Death Eaters' hide out was beginning to stir the Ministry in alarm. Voldemort's defeat doesn't mean his supporters were going to stop torturing muggles, mudbloods and wizards and witches. He traced the dark mark which hadn't stirred for a long time indicating Voldemort was indeed defeated. Looking once more at the mess, he remembered that he had put an ad for a housemaid the other day. He could have just asked an old housemaid from the Malfoy Manor but he didn't. What he needed was a new one; someone who was not comfortable with him; someone who would not poke her nose on his businesses and would just leave him alone; and finally, someone who would follow his orders and not his mother's. He was hoping he'll get a call today. Just then, the phone rang, breaking the silence and eerie atmosphere in the house. He answered the call almost lazily.
..o-.-.o.-.-o..
On her way back to the hotel, something caught her eye. Posted on one of the windows of the store was a picture of her, no doubt. So they figured out I ran away and won't be coming back anytime soon. Why, she was not surprised. She was hoping it would take a whole day before the streets got bombarded with posters with her face on it. It was embarrassing to have her face broadcast in the whole of London. She looked around before taking the poster off the window. She crumpled it into a ball and put it inside her pocket. But then to her great disappointment, she saw a lot of posters were posted nearby as she walked hurriedly back to the hotel. Snatching each and every poster was impossible so she hurried back to the hotel instead, head bowed.
At the hotel, Hermione proceeded to fitting a black shoulder length wig. Posters were for the mean time forgotten. She tied the wig in a messy bun then decided a ponytail looked better, while letting some short hair dangle limply on her forehead, almost covering her forehead and half her eyes. She wore black-rimmed eyeglasses which were not round-shaped (thank Merlin), to conceal her eyes. She got all of it from a shop nearby for a rather large sum of money. Remembering how the saleslady eyed her suspiciously as she paid at the counter as if she's up to something that is no good at all almost made her want to postpone the plan.
She checked herself in the mirror in different angles and realized that she may not look like the physically unattractive housemaid itself as she had intended but it nonetheless showed she's different. Different in the bad sense of the word. Well, she almost looked like Moaning Myrtle if she were to wear round-shaped eyeglasses. Nonetheless, she was an epitome of a girl without style who has gone mad, or to simply put it, someone who hasn't heard of hair care and beauty products. Worst was she obviously had no sense of self-pity.
The finished product of her wild imagination looked ridiculous but tolerable nonetheless. She was set for tomorrow. If she could only use magic she would have gone to the extremes such as putting freckles on her cheeks or changing the color of her eyes or maybe do something to make her more unrecognizable than she already was. But as a law-abiding witch, she thought against it because it would be illegal. She would risk the wizarding world to being exposed to muggles. It would be a shame to use magic for her selfish interests. 'No wizard or witch shall use magic for the reason of fulfilling one's interest,' was a clear mandate unless they've changed it. She stuck with the law-abiding Hermione for she had already broken too many laws in one day. Not actually laws but then she did something she would never ever thought of doing. There's no other choice except to do the disguise the muggle-way.
The next day, after a hot shower and headache-inducing hair blow-drying, she was ready to put on the disguise. Hopefully, no one would ever think that she's Hermione Granger. One thing has to result from all her hard work and creativity if she could call it that. She had to nail this job. According to the man she talked with yesterday, she was the first to inquire about the job. Maybe there are not too many physically unattractive people out there. But what caught her attention was that he sounded oddly familiar. Maybe it was just her imagination. And imaginations aren't real anyway so she did not bother think of the voice any longer than she pondered on it. Although it bothered her that the moment she heard his cool and baritone voice, her breath caught in her throat. She had this feeling that he's somehow good-looking. "Hermione, you're looking for a job, not a love interest," she muttered under her breath as she applied a light make-up. She can't stand the sight of her face looking pale.
Along with the accessories for her new look she also bought a couple of outfits, very unattractive and conservative by her real standards. Something she wouldn't be caught wearing at Hogwarts or around town. It fitted her fine because she still looked decent despite it being not her style.
After packing her things in a carry-all bag, she checked out of the hotel, not minding the strange looks the people at the lobby threw at her direction. It was one of her strengths to tolerate people. But there was one person she wasn't able to ignore. In fact, she did a double take the moment she got a glimpse of him coming from the lounge area nearby and was headed to the receptionist desk. She had to fight the urge to hide behind the plant when she saw Blaise Zabini. For a moment, she felt exposed but then she remembered the disguise she was sporting. She straightened and walked a little slower and somehow confidently, maintaining her distance from him.
Even though she gave a fake name, it would be better he would not see her up close. It didn't escape her keen observation that he was rather looking at her with an odd expression when their paths crossed. It was as if he was asking where she came from. For obvious reasons, she looked out of place, like an outcast in a crowd of stylish people. Once Blaise was out of sight, she sighed in relief, realizing she had been holding her breath. Whenever there was Blaise around, there has to be a Draco Malfoy nearby. Just in case, she looked around even if it was a little too late of a reaction for signs of the Slytherin. No sign of him.
..o-.-.o.-.-o..
During the journey, at the muggle bus, she was thinking of a name she could use temporarily. Besides that, she was also thinking why Blaise had to be in the same bus as she was. He was sitting five rows down behind her. I hope he isn't going to the place where I'm going.
Hermione resumed her quest for finding a name. Before arriving at the destination she finally got one. Rangie Evans. That sounds cool. I hope Harry's mom won't mind me using her last name.
..o-.-.o.-.-o..
She arrived in the late morning, it was almost noon. The journey was tiring but worth it when she saw the house and the ocean. She was beyond amazed at the magnificent beauty, like it would be a grand vacation to live there, not just some sort of a hiding place for her.
The house was facing the ocean, almost situated near a low cliff, overlooking the clear blue horizon. The sun was at its peak, giving a shimmering surface to the calm ocean. The breath-taking view made her wish she had a house like it. That's just how she pictured her house to be. All the more, she became determined to be hired. Everything seemed to be perfect in that place. The environment was relaxing despite the screaming fact that if she's hired, she'll be a housemaid and definitely not a guest. She would have to wait for two weeks to pass by before heading to Hogwarts.
Two weeks. That's not too long a time.
T B C
A/N: About Legilimency and Occlumency (the magical defense of the mind against external penetration; an obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one). I'm quite not sure but I hope I didn't make it sound so unbelievable and out of the ordinary, especially the 'Voldemort and Draco part' which is not completely believable at all that I hesitated to even post this chapter. Thank you for reading and do review.
