Chapter Seven: Bleeding
September slowly became October. October became November. November became December. Months passed, the days got shorter…the nights colder.
It was around nine o'clock on a Saturday night. Draco sighed as he slowly exited the fast food restaurant where he had found a job. It didn't pay much, the hours were horrible, and he had to associate with people; something he had never liked. These were Muggles. He didn't like Muggles, he didn't connect with Muggles. They seemed primitive and clueless to the world that was all around them. Pureblood royalty like him shouldn't have had to work, shouldn't have had to kiss arse to the Muggle filth around him.
The higher you are, the farther you fall, he thought grimly.
He decided he didn't want to go back to his small, dark apartment. It made him feel caged and closed in. Strange really that he had felt no different in his large, bright, fancy room back at the Manor.
Familiar gates were coming up in the distance. That bloody park…. Every time he passed by, he thought of Granger.
He remembered her waking him up by yelling something about him being a murderer. He remembered following her through it just to tell her that he was no longer a Death Eater, and never wanted to be one again. He remembered sitting with her by that tree…and running away when she touched him.
And he would admit it, but only to himself. He was afraid to care. All his life he had never cared about anything except his father's opinion of him. He had always wanted to please his father, but beyond that, he had never cared about anything or anyone. He didn't care about Pansy, his so-called girlfriend, he didn't care about his reputation among anyone but purebloods…he had never cared.
But meeting Granger again…he had started to care. It was strange, it was frightening. He didn't want to care. He wanted to be completely apathetic. It was the least painful path through life, and that's all he wanted. The easy way.
And Granger…Granger, even, seemed to care. She worried about him.
No one had ever cared about him really, either.
And frankly, it had made him so scared of what could happen – of what would happen – that he had run away from her.
He walked quickly past the park, staring straight ahead, refusing to let his vision wander over.
He sighed heavily, pulling his jacket tighter around him. He slowly headed into a small, family-owned restaurant on the corner, and went up to the bar counter at the front.
The waitress smiled at Draco as he sat down. Draco had come in here a lot lately…he was becoming one of their best customers.
He slowly pulled a few crumpled bills and coins out of his pocket, putting them on the counter. "Is that enough for a Coke?" he asked the waitress, still not entirely understanding this Muggle American way of paying for things.
The waitress nodded and turned around to get his drink. "You from England?"
Draco slowly nodded. "Yes."
"What brings you to New York?" the waitress asked, conversationally. Draco rolled his eyes at her back. Great…have I mentioned how much I hate people?
"Family business," he said, trying to sound casual.
The waitress turned back around, setting the Coke down in front of him. "Here you go." She paused. "I'm Susan."
He noticed her "subtly" flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes. Fuck…fuck…fuck…I hate people.
Usually, he would've done what most guys would do if a beautiful waitress was hitting on them. He would've flirted back, ended up snogging her by the end of the night…. But now, he didn't have it in him anymore. He didn't like people – at all. He didn't want to have to deal with this waitress. He didn't want to have to smile and bear it when some obnoxious rich prat started going on and on about how his fries were overcooked. The only person he could even stand to be around was Granger…
Oh crap. He sighed, frustrated, and put his head in his hands. Stop thinking about that bloody mudblood. Just stop. Get over it. She was nice to you, you were passably nice to her, end of fucking story. Forget about her.
"Hey, you okay?" He heard the waitress ask.
"Yeah…yeah…fine," he answered weakly.
"So what's your name?" He looked up at the waitress, raising an eyebrow. He didn't want to deal with this right now.
"Draco," he mumbled, before finally picking his head up and taking a sip of his drink. He didn't bother to use his alias for his job; Drake Felton.
"Draco? What kind of a name is that?"
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate people?
"Family name," he lied. He had never had a problem with Draco. It was unique and set him apart. Everyone else had always thought it was weird. Of course, some people got normal names like Harry and Ron and Ginny and Pansy and Vincent. So of course they would think it was weird.
"Wow, you must really love your family to keep a name like that."
He almost choked on his Coke at her comment. Muggles are so bloody rude…
"Yeah…don't think love's the word," he muttered under his breath bitterly.
"Oh, I just knew it! You have a dark and haunted past!" Susan said dramatically.
Draco just stared at her like she was crazy. Dark and haunted? No, just lousy. Muggles overreact about everything…
"Wow, that's so sad, Draco. Can I call you Dan? It's much more normal."
His only response was a raised eyebrow.
"So Dan, where are you going now?"
"Away from you," he remarked casually, leaving the money on the counter before getting up and walking away, not bothering to look back at the waitress.
Bloody hell…who would ever guess I'd miss talking to Granger…though I guess she at least has brains and not sawdust up in her bloody head.
Shit…stop thinking about her.
He finally made it back to his apartment building, and slowly climbed the many flights of steps up to the top floor, where his apartment was.
He didn't even bother changing out of his clothes before he collapsed onto the bed, wondering vaguely where that bridge was that Granger had found him at that night back in September.
Letter Four: Hermione to Ron
Dear Ron,
Amazingly enough, I didn't glare at that letter the minute I opened it. It made me laugh, actually. Thank you so much for the amusing letter…I really needed it. I miss you and Harry so much right about now.
Yes, I did mean to say HE. It doesn't matter who he was; we're no longer associating and he's an absolute PRAT and I never want anything to do with him again. He had just been particularly infuriating when I got your letter, and it made me feel better, so thanks.
And when I get back to Hogwarts, I will certainly help you with your assignments Ron. Can you believe I've actually run out of things to do without having to do three of the same homework assignment?
I can't wait to see you all again; and thank you so much for sending me a copy of the Daily Prophet. I can finally see what's going on there now.
Have fun, see you over the holidays – by the way, which day should I drop by at the Burrow? Tell me soon! Say hi to Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna for me!
XOXO Hermione
Hermione flung the Daily Prophet Ron and Harry had sent her aside, groaning at the idea of having to do her homework first. Something was definitely wrong with her; since when did she hate homework?
She sighed before reading through the Defense Against the Dark Arts essay assignment. Harry had always been good in this class…he could help her with this jumble of nonsense. Of course, you know, Malfoy was always good at it too…not just Harry.
She suddenly realized the irony of the situation. A Death Eater who received good marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Damnit…don't do this to yourself Hermione. Stop thinking about him.
She hadn't seen him much at all. She kept telling herself she didn't care that every time they passed on the street he ignored her existence.
She ran her hands through her bushy hair. Focus…you have to finish this essay!
An hour after trying to write one topic sentence and failing, she threw her hands up in frustration before shoving the paper away and standing up to leave the house.
What is happening to me? Why am I suddenly acting so…unlike me?
She groaned angrily before grabbing her jacket and the Daily Prophet, heading into the deserted kitchen of the apartment. She glanced sadly at the note from her parents telling her they would be gone all weekend before setting out towards the park down the street. The same park where she had sat beside him, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes…
CUT IT OUT.
She pulled her jacket closer to her thin body as the frigid December wind blew relentlessly.
She entered the park, determined to not remember anything about Malfoy or any memories they had.
Memories? There is something seriously wrong with you!
She shook her head, settling herself down on a bench. She would relax now. She would read the paper and she would relax, forgetting everything.
She opened up the crumpled pages of the Daily Prophet, glancing at the front page news.
Have You Seen this Wizard?
LUCIUS MALFOY ESCAPED FROM AZKABAN!
Lucius Malfoy, known Death Eater arrested at the Department of Mysteries last year, escaped from Azkaban yesterday night. He is believed to have had outside help from other Death Eaters. He is suspected to have gone back to Malfoy Manor, his past residence, killing his wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and burning the house. There has been no sign of him since…
Hermione's hand went to her open mouth, her heart skipping beats as she read the article. Her eyes reread the paragraph; she didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. Lucius Malfoy? Escaped? He had killed his wife? Bloody hell….
She looked at the picture. She remembered him from her second year, as well as her fifth year. His hair and skin were still as perfect as any Malfoy's…it almost looked as if Azkaban hadn't done anything to him at all. But she saw the evil glint in his eyes…a look she had only seen when Lucius Malfoy had looked at his son.
Her whole body felt numb and lifeless. Malfoy…was he okay? Had his father found him? She remembered his downcast eyes and his quiet voice as he told her that she would get used to her parents not caring about her. Oh Merlin…if his father finds him….
She no longer cared if Malfoy ignored her and she was supposed to hate him. Malfoy didn't have access to any news source from the wizarding world…he wouldn't know…she had to warn him, she had to find him!
She rolled up the newspaper and tucked it inside her jacket before flinging herself off the bench and running out of the park.
Please…I have to find you…
