You Dropped Your Books Nerd
larrythestaper
Chapter 4: Grave Unravelings
A/N: Okay readers, I'm SO, SO sorry that I've been ignoring this fanfic. I got lazy, plus I've been in summer school so now, I will continue writing it, hopefully with fidelity. Again, my apologies for leaving it on hiatus for two months. But the apology doesn't cut it. I've tried to make this chapter somewhat good, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for readers! Stay sparkly clean!
Recap: Dun dun dun! *cue dramatic instrumental music*
Preciously on You Dropped Your Books Nerd:
"Why did you tell me?" Draco asked, as they marched down into the depth of the Forbidden Forest
***
"What? Because of some God? There is and isn't a God. Things are based on rationalizations," Draco answered coldy.
***
"Were you ever hurt?"
***
Readers, see what Draco has to say, to Hermione's malingering question!
"It doesn't pertain to you," Draco dryly replied. "Go, go seek help. I can't help you." Hermione remained stationary. Draco had never kept up with such a stubborn individual, but his heart felt a nurturing compassion. It hit him that moment what could have helped her. But alternatively, his own pain could not cancel out hers. It could not nullify anything, but only add to the cumbersome weight of their worlds.
But he felt it had to be done. He just knew in his gut he had to do it. It was impossible to remain soberly cold around her. He felt such vibrant energy and vivacious life near Hermione. And he had yet to see it.
It felt odd to know that if it were not for a terrible collision, he would not have been here with her. It felt bizarre. He had distanced from his friends ever since talking to her, and an unsettling discomfiture always yawned between them whenever Hermione's incident came up. He took notice to the shriveled, lifeless lily on the side of the forest's pathway. Travelers remained impervious to it. Travelers who had once admired its flashing beauty and lovely scent now disregarded its existence.
He knew he should tell her.
But would it really help her?
"Fine, I actually have a place to show you." Draco gestured for her to take his hand. He eschewed looking right at Hermione, but instead looked through her, as if he felt a reign of shame and embarrassment riding through both of them with every glance.
"You didn't answer my question," Hermione stated stiffly. The slick young blonde sat back down and jumped when he awkwardly touched Hermione's porcelain colored hand. She flinched.
"Sorry," he mumbled. The girl remained resilient to his speech. "Come on, I'll tell you if you just go with me." A hazy, promising feeling of trust meandered in Draco's calm voice. He pulled Hermione's hand. The feeling felt secure to both of them. Friendly and complete. But this trust? It should not translate into unconditional trust, or worse, love. At least not at the moment. For the moment, Hermione kept a suspicious, indifferent façade.
"Are you making improper advances?" Her bluntness surprised him. Draco chortled quietly in the other direction.
"No."
"Fine. Don't touch me." She delicately gave a signal of acceptance, and he magnanimously escorted her. They took the long route to Hogsmeade and ripped through the complaisant snow powdered village. The cheerfulness of the village breached the confining barriers of their hearts. Just a little bit. In high hopes of seeming charming, Draco covered Hermione's eyes gently when they neared their destination.
"You know," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose, "I just saw you wiping snot a few minutes ago."
"Fine, I'll cast a temp blinding spell. Regarde." And as a graceful sunset merely fades, Hermione's vision vanished with Draco's elegant wave of a wand. Her vision blacked out completely, but an enduring strength bonded her other senses; every smell grew sharper, every touch penetrated her soul, every sound buzzed in her ears as if to compensate for her loss of sight.
A warm buzzing feeling arrived as when Draco's heavy footsteps stopped completely.
"Here's my humble thinking spot." Draco looked up at the faithful blue sky. Today, it was going to stay the cerulean blue the radio had promised.
"Hmm." Hermione clicked her tongue skeptically, though she felt the reciprocal of her actions. The sentiment of complete vulnerability grew warm and familiar, like the distinct taste of dark chocolate on a cold rainy day. Her eyelids were a fortress of a mother's instinct and unconditional love. Something else fit into the picture of words awkwardly. Perhaps the lanky, young man next to her. Perhaps she was not falling into love, but an unconventional ring of shared pain and hope.
"You're going to like it." Draco reversed the charm... Hermione slowly opened her eyes as she let out a small sigh. As she opened her eyes, Draco felt his heart leap quickly. He could not help but notice the beauty in her pale skin and ruby red lips as the electrifying blue in her eyes sparked. Her eyes. His mum's eyes. Looking into Hermione's eyes he heard the warm laughter of his mother and felt the gentle stroke that he had no felt in such a long time. He gazed at her once again, profound.
Her mouth opened drolly. A fresh, steady breeze flew right by them as an air of peace haunted the silent roses and gray stones beneath her shoes. They were at a small, homely cemetery. She kneeled down to the grave in front of her. Hermione's tight, scornful complexion disappeared, but her gaze softened as she read the neatly cut lettering on the slab of stone in facing her.
NARCISSA MALFOY 1953-1990
Beauty not concealed beneath my psyche can be viewed with the eyes of the pure heart.
***
The strange epitah graved its words into both their souls as a respectful silence saluted to the long deceased. The words were haunting, eerie, but highly appropriate. An strange image of a classy young woman, jaded away from her hopes and dreams imbued Hermione's mind. The youthful brunette let out a small cough, glancing away from the stone.
A handful of lilies were placed on Narcissa's grave, kept beautiful and lush by a glowing preservation charm. It was simple and clean compared to the other flower covered, balloon-littered graves.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered softly, letting out a puff of cold air. Draco joined her, seating himself on the snow-powdered grass. They sat, with their legs crisscrossed, contemplating on the sorrow and awkwardness of the moment.
"Don't be. It was her time. She wasn't completely free of fault either. Alcohol. My jackass of a father would come home drunk and unpleasant to the both of us. He'd stay quiet on good days and violent when he was pissed." Draco took a breath. He played with his green scarf as snow melted under his bottom.
"My mom, she was a good person. Just had a drinking problem. She would drink herself to assuage that pain, drowning herself with Firewhiskey. I was eight. It wasn't a magical problem. With or without magic, you need your liver." Draco paused. "Things didn't work out too well. We were dirt poor, until my wuss of a father asskissed the Dark Lord, so there was no way she could top the transplant list. The Muggle doctors did their best to help her but…"
The young man's voice grew shakier and more fatigue as the momentum built. Hermione peered at him with not only warm regards but admiration and respect. In effort to relinquish the uncomfortable sadness of the moment, she changed the subject.
"I saw you at the Muggle clinic," she piped meekly.
"Yeah, I do volunteer work here and there." He stopped fidgeting with his scarf. "I actually wish to go on to Muggle medical school rather than get a job in the Wizarding community. My arse of an aunt Bellatrix is deadset on me becoming a Death Eater, but hell, I'm not that stupid to throw my life away. Any idea what you want to do coming down the homestretch?"
"No, never pondered upon it. I've always busied myself with school. Never thought much about the future."
"I see. Look are we just going to digress about this stuff? You need to be able to face yourself again."
"Sometimes, sometimes it's better just to remember the boring stuff. All the drama melts down one day, right? A course of sorrow can lead to a desert of happiness." Hermione gazed up at the sky, allowing her mind to contemplate hard upon life's little queries, almost forgetting what had happened.
"I suppose," Draco responded mechanically. They walked and waded around the boundaries of the quiet cemetery, leaving tracks in the thin layer of snow on the ground, awkwardly looking back every now and then. A path, however vague, appeared, transitioning the silent blooming of spring transfigured , and soon a weak sign of the sun popped out from loyal pastel sky.
"It's a nice blue out. Like your eyes," Draco smiled. Hermione's reaction complied slowly, but it surprised them both when it was finally let out.
He finally got her to do the one thing she had not done for such a long time.
She laughed.
A/N: Meh, my characters were more one dimensional. (Also suspicious of grammar/ writing errors, story not beta'd.) I've been trying to insinuate the mild tension between the two protagonists, but I'm not implying any strong love. That damsel in distress crap is overrated. I'm actually supposed to be doing AP homework right now, but ha, we can see that I'm working really hard. I'll try to update soon, with at least two more installments for the story! Hope you guys are all peachy! xo
(PS: Regarde actually means "look" in French, so the use of it as a blinding spell was totally inappropriate.)