Thanks to:
ginny456 for the favorite!
noone297 for the review!
beautyinthemild for the review!
His parents' voices faded into the background as Draco wandered towards his room dazedly. An icy darkness swept over his mind and pried apart his memories. The envelope in his pocket felt like a lead weight, worse even than the letter the Minister had sent him Saturday evening. This letter contained years of hatred and guilt, regret soured by his bitterness.
When he finally reached the privacy of his room, he slammed the door shut and fell back on the bed with a groan. What does he want with me now? Hasn't he haunted enough of my dreams?
Nevertheless, the letter called him name, whispering of secrets and answers. Hating himself for giving in, Draco ripped open the envelope. His fingers fumbled trying to get it out but he finally succeeded.
Dear Draco,
Did you know that a phoenix spends seventy percent of his life dying?
"Crazy old man," he muttered in almost wistful scorn. "Of course, the first thing he writes is some kind of lesson."
Such a beautiful creature brought low by the end we all fear. The amazing thing about phoenixes, however, is what happens after they die. By some miracle of nature, as fire consumes their old body, a new, stronger one is born from the ashes. They don't let the past stop them from moving on to their new life. In some ways, phoenixes are smarter than humans. We tend to hold on to our mistakes, stubbornly thinking that nothing we do can change what we've already done. Well, that's true. What happened has happened, but that doesn't mean we can't change who we are now. The past is gone, and all we have left is the present. Leave the future to worry about itself, as many brilliant minds have said.
Draco sighed. "You just couldn't resist adding that in, could you?"
Did you know that a phoenix only cries for others' sorrows? No matter what happens to him, he will never shed a single tear over himself. Isn't that commendable? And his song! Oh, Draco, you have never heard anything like a phoenix song. The beauty of it increases a good man's courage, while the pureness of it strikes fear into an evil man's heart. Many times Fawkes has carried me through when nothing else can bring me to lift my head.
If you will permit me, I would like to indulge in more rambling. I am an old man, you know.
He could picture Dumbledore chuckling under his breath, beard juggling underneath his mouth, cheeks a rosy red. The sight brought on a burst of homesickness. Shaking off the feeling, he again directed his gaze back to the letter.
As Fawkes approaches his Burning Day, he begins to resemble a half-plucked turkey. His eyes become dull, his feathers start to fall out, and he begins to make gagging noises. Then, when he is at his lowest, Fawkes suddenly bursts into flames, only to hop up shortly after as a newborn chick. In a number of days, he grows back to full size.
I sometimes find myself envious of him. While he grows stronger, I grow weaker. My life is slowly fading away, and I'm left wondering if I have made enough of a difference to make it worth it. Then I look around me and see children with bright futures ahead of them because of what I've done to keep them safe.
Draco, I must confess that you have cost me more than one night's rest. I look in your eyes and see—not quite darkness—but twisting shadows. Your heart is troubled, torn in two ways by your own desires and by the expectations placed upon you. Sometimes the two align, but often you are forced to choose between them.
Child, you have the chance to be like the phoenix. Your old life has burst into flames, and the ashes are smothering you. You can choose who you want to be, Draco. Do not waste this opportunity by letting the world dictate who you are. Let yourself be reborn. Only then can you grow into the strong character you were meant to be, wherever that path takes you.
The letter was dated a year to the day before the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. When Draco saw this, he sucked in a breath, eyes wide. Wherever that path takes you...
"Oh, you old fool," he sighed, running a hand down his face. "That path led me straight to pointing my wand in your face. Did you see that coming? I imagine you did; you saw everything else. And yet you still took all my smirks like they were respectful nods, smiled at my spiteful comments, looked past my disdain and anger."
Only three other people had done the same. The first two, his friends since childhood: Pansy and Blaise. They had grown up with him and for the most part stayed by his side. For that, he would always be grateful.
Then there was Ginny.
Her name whooshed through his mind like a flower-scented breeze. What he would not give to hear her laugh, to see her radiant smile! She made him feel as if anything was possible. Without her, he was a lost cause, but with her support he felt like he could take on the world.
Stop it! Draco commanded himself sternly. Don't think about her. Remembering only makes it harder to let her go. Once he had dispelled her proud, grinning face from his thoughts, he turned his gaze back to the letter lying in front of him. Again, Dumbledore's words tumbled down on his shoulders.
"You saw me for who I really was—a coward and a cad. Yet that didn't matter to you. You still treated me with kindness and compassion. Why?" he questioned, hissing through his teeth in frustration. "Why didn't you give up on me like everyone else did?"
"I like this new you. You're more open-minded. Before, you would have never sat down and talked to me like this. It shows how much you've changed."
Not everyone had given up on him.
"I don't want to lose her," Draco whispered. In the shadowed light, his eyes glittered with emotion. "She means too much to me now. It's only been a week, but I...I think I might care about her more than I should."
Punching his pillow was not as satisfying as he had hoped it would be. Gritting his teeth, he leapt off the bed and stalked to the window. Outside, the northern edge of his mother's garden stretched across the grounds. A tall, trim hedge surrounded the perimeter and a marble fountain bubbled in the center.
When he was young, Draco had wandered through the garden, picking random flowers along the way and tossing them into the fountain. It had always vexed Narcissa to see the basin filled with torn petals and stems. Though the house-elves dutifully cleaned it out every day, she had still reprimanded her son every time she caught him throwing another flower in.
"Appearances are everything, Draco, no matter the circumstances," she would tell him before leading him away for his piano lessons.
Later, he would spy her sitting on the bench, gazing into the clear fountain waters thoughtfully. Sometimes she would dip her hand in and watch the water drip off her fingers like blood. Draco had never understood why she did that until now. Water washes away stains, he recited silently. Water makes people clean again.
The reason she would cry her silent tears was that she knew, as he now knew, that no amount of water could ever wash away the sin blackening their hearts. Even if the world forgot, he never would.
With a sigh, Draco turned from the window. His gaze caught on the wristwatch poking out of his robe pocket. As soon as he had arrived home, he had flung off the stifling garment, carelessly letting it fall to the floor.
"Now's as good a time as ever," he decided, shrugging despondently.
Three hours later, he finally realized what the Weasley twins had done to the wristwatch. A triumphant smirk curled his lips as he sat on the floor of his room, hunched over the timepiece. Tricky devils, those twins. Somehow, they had managed to combine a series of random spells, most of which were trivial, prank-like jinxes, in one focal point. It was slow going, but he was finally making some progress in detangling the spells.
It gave him such a feeling of accomplishment when he thought about how no one else had been able to fix it. His eyes widened suddenly. He was actually proud of himself. For the first time, he had done something on his own, without anyone else's help—something good, something productive. He was fixing something just to fix it, not because his life was at stake.
And Merlin did it feel great.
Arching his back, Draco yawned as his stomach suddenly began to growl. With an amused shake of his head, the young man stood up and placed the watch on his dresser. His eyes lingered on Ginny's picture, and her flushed face grinned up at him. A lump grew in his throat. Wearied by his lapse, he jerked his gaze away before striding out the room.
The rest of the day passed like a dream. When the moon appeared outside his window, Draco blinked in surprise. Only a few hours left until I go back. Just a few hours...
It did not take much to convince Narcissa to let him stay the night at the Manor. She could tell by his expression and his voice how exhausted he was, both from dealing with the Minister and from reading the letter.
"Go to bed, Draco," she quietly instructed him with enough concern to make him smile reassuringly.
"Goodnight Mother."
"Goodnight Son," Narcissa replied, the barest hitch in her voice.
That night, Draco stared up at the ceiling with his limbs sprawled across the bed. His gaze latched on a familiar loose thread in his bed curtain, and he smiled as he remembered lying in the same position four weeks prior. So much had changed since then. The twist in his chest did not hurt as much as it had back then. Now he knew there was hope—if Ginny could ever forgive him.
Congratulations to noone297 and beautyinthemild for getting it right! It was Dumbledore :) *drags forward a five-gallon bucket full of cookies* Thank you for participating!
Next chapter, Draco returns to Hogwarts and has a very...interesting meeting with Ginny ;) I won't give it away, but the next two chapters were so exciting to write hehe. Anyone want to guess what happens?