Chapter Three
There are a lot of things that can go on inside ones mind all at one time. Draco Malfoy was having a hard time containing himself from falling apart. The Heir of Malfoy at this moment was walking mindlessly down Diagon Alley, and on the outside he looked as if nothing was wrong and that he was the king of that road, but inside his mind was churning.
"Take over, I have to take over. I am twenty-eight years old, and I am talking over the family fortune with no help from my father. Of course, I had never had any help from him unless it suited him. I always assumed him to be correct. Humph. Lucius Malfoy is one to act as if he is correct. I see that being "correct" has landed him in Azkaban for a life sentence. Now, mother is dying, and I am all that she has left. I have wasted away my entire life serving his wishes, and now, I am reaping nothing. Nothing," he churned that word in his mind. It had always been a word that he never paid mind to for he had always had everything, but at this moment and in his head, he had nothing.
Draco's mother was dying of a very rare disease that none of the mediwitches at St. Mungo's could cure. This disease is what is tearing Malfoy apart. He knew ever since his father was sent to Azkaban that he would eventually be taking over, but this soon, he would have never thought. He had always planned on still being flamboyant and carefree at this time, free to do his own will. But, for the last three years, he had been at home tending to his mother and watching her fade.
He has thought over these past few months of everything that his life had become. When he was younger, he was proud nonetheless of being a Malfoy, but now, now that his life was in shambles, he couldn't care less about his name.
Of course, none of this could show on the mischievous features on his face. The hair that had once been long and a silverfish blonde was still that blonde, but short and proper. Those silver eyes as always were clouded, but today they were just a little bit darker than normal. All throughout his dreary life, Draco had never given up his looks. He is just as dashing as he was the first time he stepped onto the grounds of Hogwarts, and everyone knows it, including him. That arrogance has served him well for the fact that it allowed him to hide. To hide behind all the pain and sorrow that he felt because to show those thing would mean that he was weak, and Draco Malfoy was not weak.
His thoughts were allowing him to wonder. Wonder and walking suited him. "I need to talk to Burkes. I have to finish this Dark business. The house is haunting mother. She needs peace."
He closed his eyes for the smallest second to think of another errand while at the exact time crossing the street. The same street and spot one Hermione Granger and her daughter Lola were crossing.
"Mum, watch out!!"
"Oomph…ouch!" Hermione proclaimed as she landed in a pile of blue robes in the middle of the street entangled with robes of green.
"Could you think for a moment to watch where you are going imbecile? These are handmade robes. Get off me," growled the blonde with enough venom to poison the world's largest animal whle he pushed himself off from the ground and out from under Hermione.
"Well, if you are going to fuss, you could at least help me up. I wasn't the one that wasn't paying attention," the witch stated matter-of-factly. However, wasn't granted that graciousness. "Well, thanks," she said as she rose up on her knees while brushing of soot and dirt, and finally rose to fully look the stranger in the face.
However, this was no stranger, and her eyes turned from a smiling chestnut to the darkest of chocolate in the realization of who she had just ran into. "Malfoy," she acknowledged gruffly.
His eyes focused and then after a few moments in sudden realization muttered, "Granger?" It took him awhile, but it was the eyes that gave it away. After eleven years of not seeing the muggle-born, he had barely recognized her. Her hair was no longer bushy, but slight and straight, and with just a tad bight of makeup on she looked like a model for Witch Weekly.
"Who else would it be idiot?" she retorted.
"Um mum, is everything ok?" Lola questioned as she noticed the tension between her mom and this stranger.
"Darling, why don't you take these knuts, and go on to that ice cream parlor and get you something, ok?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, baby, now scoot?" she said as she gave her daughter a slight push in the direction of Wellton's Ice Cream Parlor.
"I was wondering when the Boy-Who-Lived would knock you up. It would have thought her to be older. Wonder if she has the same pathetic skills as her father…hmmm," he said all the while thinking, "Where did that kid come from? And, how did the Mudblood become so beautiful? No, not right. She is hideous, repulsive, atrocious, but those legs and eyes, those I can make an exception for…no…no."
"Been hit with a stunner Malfoy? Because if not, I would gladly do so," she said. It had been so long since she had seen the boy that tortured her in school, and she was not going to let him get to her. "I can't sink to his level. No, I won't," she thought.
"You are pathetic Malfoy, glad to see some things never change," she said frankly as she walked off to Wellton's to retrieve her daughter without taking one glance back.
It still amazed him that it was her. There walking away from him leaving him speechless was the most irritating know-it-all he had ever knew in his younger days, but somehow this little exchange in the street had his mind, and yes his body, reeling. He started to walk away to Knockturn Alley, but couldn't help to look back one last time. She had already gone. "And, that is a good reason to stop thinking about Granger. A sudden collision is not going to change the fact that she is a dirty mudblood," he thought as he ran his hand through his slick hair, but somehow telling himself did not seem to do the trick.
It hit him like a log as he was in Burgin and Burkes to drop off some items. He must see her again, but by the time he arrived back to Wellton's she was gone. This would not stop him though. He was a Slytherin for God's sake, and he will get what he wants. "Even if it is a filthy muggle-born," he pondered.
"Well, first you are going to have to stop calling her that," said the voice in his head.
"Oh, Shut Up," he said to himself as he rolled his eyes and continued walking down to the end of Diagon Alley.
