This one feels so choppy; I tried imitating a lot of the style used in book five and I attempted to capture the tone of book four's ending... yeah.
ENJOY!
It was June, the day of the last event in the Triwizard Tournament. Draco's interest in the challenge had waned considerably throughout the year, especially due to the fact that tied for first place was his sworn enemy. Having to sacrifice a year of quidditch for Potter seriously rubbed him the wrong way.
To be perfectly honest, he was ready to get out of school. Every night, he thought of how he'd land in the fireplace and burst through the front door, into the summer sun and see Jane, with her skateboard and painted nails at the end of his driveway, wriggling her fingers at him. He dreamed of that moment.
He reached down his robe for the pendant and sank back into his seat on the bleachers with a smug grin. Everything truly was turning up in his favour. His fellow Slytherins had brought back the Potter Stinks badges. There was a lot of betting on who would win among the houses. Draco hadn't participated in the betting because he felt he was above it, but a lot of Slytherins had bet on Cedric Diggory. The badges had become a staple of their house.
"Gah!" Pansy shrieked. She was sitting in the bleachers, in front and kind of to the left of Draco. "I can't take this. This stupid maze - we can't see anything."
"It's the most boring challenge so far," Daphne agreed. Her younger sister, Astoria was sitting directly in front of Draco. She was looking intently out at the maze, like if she strained her eyes and neck enough she'd catch one of the contestants. But there was nothing to see. The maze hedges were far too tall.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Astoria rocketed upwards to look for the source of the commotion, obscuring Draco's view. Cheers began to resound throughout the arena, the choir had started up music, but for some reason, there was also a lot of murmuring going through the crowd.
Draco shoved Astoria back into her seat with a snarl and stood up himself. The crowd had gone into a frenzy, Astoria among one of the many shrieking in horror - because there were two people on the victor's platform - and one of them was dead.
Draco stumbled backwards, letting go of Astoria, who dove for her sister and began to cry. A sinister feeling overcame him.
Cedric Diggory was dead.
Crabbe and Goyle were still standing, watching the scene intently. Draco tugged at Crabbe's sleeve. He couldn't get up. "What's going on?"
"They're dragging Potter off Diggory," Crabbe narrated. "Potter's in hysterics - look at him!"
Draco didn't. He had an awful, cold feeling rising in his stomach.
When Draco got off the Hogwarts Express, his father grabbed him gruffly by the arm and immediately dragged him off. He looked like he had aged ten years since the Quidditch World Cup.
"Where's mother?" Usually, both of his parents were there to greet him.
"Moving our belongings back to the manor," His father said in low, hushed tones.
Draco's blood ran cold.
"We're going back?"
"The curse has been lifted," His father said conspiratorially.
"The - Father, what of our house?"
"Our house?" They had reached a secluded area of the station. "To the manor, now. Your mother will explain, I have to get back to-" He faltered. "To work. Hold tight, Draco. We have to apparate."
Draco grabbed his father's outstretched arm on instinct, but he wished he hadn't. A gut-wrenching sensation and sudden nausea overcame him. It felt as if he was on an uncontrollable broomstick, forced to do loop-de-loops at inhuman speeds.
He stumbled to the floor of the manor and, in between terrified screams, threw up his last Hogwarts meal all over the marble floor.
When the nausea had receded and his stomach was empty, Draco whipped around to look for his father.
His eyes shifted from his son to the mess on the floor. With a wave of his wand, it all disappeared.
"Sorry. Your mother will be here soon. Wash up, get settled." Then, he took an apprehensive step closer. "You know the Dark Lord is back."
Draco shuddered, because it suddenly felt real, too real, when his own father was saying it. "Yes, but-"
"You will not be returning to the muggle neighbourhood," his father plowed on. "You will not think about that muggle neighbourhood. You will not be in contact with - your friend."
His insides were churning again. "No, you can't do this-"
"Quiet now, Draco."
"NO! Why do we have to-'' he startled as flames erupted in the fireplace. Mother was holding a bunch of bags. His parents shared a curt nod, and just as fast as he'd come, his father disapparated.
Silence.
"Mother. I have to see Jane." He let emotion pour into his words. His mother would understand. She liked Jane as much as him. She'd see reason, she wouldn't let them move back without goodbyes. "I've been kept from her for a whole year!"
"Draco, I cannot allow you to see her." She stepped closer, placing her hand on his cheek. "It is for your good - our good - as much as hers." She kissed his head, but Draco wrenched out of her grip.
"I don't want to move back into this place," he growled. "You made me live in the blasted muggle neighbourhood for four years and now that I've started to call it home you bring me back to the manor? I am not staying here."
"You have to understand," she insisted. "He's back, and he's lifted the curse. If he caught us living among muggles..." She shuddered. "No. We are here. You must forget about her."
"I'm not forgetting Jane." There was a fireplace in his room, he could just floo from there. "I'm going back to her. I have to."
"I've already informed her of the situation."
"You what?!" He whirled on his mother. "You told her?"
She nodded, eyes watering. "Yes, my son. She knows of our plight. She's known of the curse since the day you brought her into our home. And she knows of our sudden leave because I told her it all today; our affiliation with the Dark Lord, his lifting of the curse, the dangers of it all-."
There was a ringing in his ears, muffling his mother's sorrowful lamentations.
His own mother had cheated him of his last goodbyes with Jane.
"I don't care! I don't give a damn if the Dark Lord has risen from the dead, I was promised the chance to see Jane at the end of this school year!"
His mother's bottom lip was trembling. "You will not yell such foolishness in this household-"
"I'll say and do what I want! And what I want, is to go back to the neighbourhood and see Jane! I will not be-" He faltered.
His mother had burst into furious tears.
"Mother-" He stepped forward, but she stopped him with a placating hand. Mother and son stood, inches apart, the former stifling hiccuping sobs with a handkerchief and the latter frozen in place, intensity radiating off of him in waves.
Time slowed to a crawl. Tears dripped down his mother's face and onto the floor. She wiped repeatedly at her eyes and kept trying to speak, but she could barely open her mouth before her sobs overcame her again. For a few minutes, she just gave up and cried openly. Draco watched on.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy," she managed to hiccup out lifetimes later, "If you go back there, you jeopardize Jane's life. You jeopardize your life. You jeopardize my life, and your father's life. You are not setting foot near Jane ever again."
His mother plowed on furiously. "If the Dark Lord catches wind that you are close with a muggle, she will die. You will die. No letters. No sneaking out of this manor. I'll have the house elf accompany you constantly if I have to." She grabbed him harshly by his collar. Her bloodshot, watery eyes bore into his. "You must promise me this."
Draco's heart leapt into his throat. His mother had never handled him this roughly. "B-but-"
"Promise me."
She was still glaring at him. Still expectant of him. Legs trembling, he gave her the tiniest of nods.
With the release of his collar, his mother broke out into a sob fest again. Draco had no courageous, no angry outbursts to summon anymore. He straightened his collar moodily. "Any more news to ruin my day, mother?"
"There is high risk that Voldemort or other dangerous persons will try to read your mind."
It had been a joke.
"Read my mind," Draco repeated. "He can read…"
"That's why," his mother continued, "You will be learning Occlumency, and I will be forbidding all communication with Jane from this day forward. I will disconnect your fireplace from the Floo network, and monitor all letters going in and out of our house. Jane already knows not to write to you."
Double whammy.
"Occlumency. Me." He had only ever heard of the subject before. It was a valuable skill, he could admire an Occlumens when he saw one, but to think that he had to learn it…
And if you are unable to master it by the end of the summer, I see no choice but to Obliviate her from your memories."
With a jolt, he reached for the pendant that hummed against his chest through his shirt. His mother had said Jane wouldn't write. Surely that meant she didn't know about their necklaces, and they'd still be able to talk…
So he wouldn't lose her entirely. He'd just have to put up more barriers between them. As long as he had his necklace, she would always be there…
The next day, Draco had his first Occlumency lesson with his mother.
She ran him through the basic principles; the idea of blocking one's mind. Draco hated how she looked at him. She so obviously felt bad for him, but she had the key to all his woes! If she could just apparate them over to the neighbourhood to say goodbyes, if she could just give in…
"When will I next see Jane?" he asked hollowly.
His mother looked up from the textbook she had been examining. "I do not wish to talk about her. Are you even listening to me? The spell used to read one's mind is Legilimens, and it can catch you completely unaware-"
"Legilimens," he repeated, numb to the world. He slumped in his chair and studied the grains of wood in their table.
There was a scraping of a chair on wood, and suddenly his mother was standing up and over him, wand poised to strike. Draco shot up, hands raised defensively. "Mother-"
"Ready your mind now, Draco, ready-"
He grabbed his wand, suddenly terrified, when his mother yelled, "Legilimens!"
The wand clattered from his hands. The study swam before Draco's eyes then vanished. He began to stumble through what could only be his own memories - flashes of him on his broomstick, the Slytherin common room, arguing with Potter, and worst of all, Jane - Jane was standing over him, her face inches from his in the shade of the tree. He began to panic.
He tried to yell and thrash out for his wand. He could feel himself groping around wildly on the table for the tool. "Stop it! Stop it! Please stop!"
He was suddenly on all fours on the marble tile, covered in sweat and tears dripping down his face. "Why did you do that?" he asked angrily, wishing nothing more than to disappear. "I wasn't ready!" He whirled to face his mother. Her expression was unreadable.
"The Dark Lord won't wait for you to be ready." She stepped closer and offered him a hand. "Up, now. Ready your mind."
"I thought we were on his side."
His mother's expression was stony. "Hush now. Fortify your mind." She lifted her wand, and Draco did his best to brace himself. He couldn't stop his legs from trembling. "Legilimens."
He was holding out his hand for Potter to shake and getting denied, embarrassment welling up in him. Then he was in his dormitory, laughing and jeering with Crabbe and Goyle. He was bombarded with the sensation of pain as Hermione Granger's hand collided with his cheek. He was placing a necklace around Jane's neck reverently, and Jane was looking at him in wonder. He was holed up in his bed, gazing longingly at her as she fiddled with hair clips in his little mirror.
The mirror - blast!
Draco was suddenly ejected from his memories and put face to face with his mother. Her expression was entirely readable, and entirely angry. She snatched up the pendant and glowered.
He began to cry.
Wordlessly, he let his mother drag him from the study and up to his fireplace. It was the only fireplace in the house not connected to a Floo network, because his mother still didn't trust that he'd run away to Jane.
She lit a flame, her eyes trained on the fire, but Draco could feel her sadness. His sadness too. He pressed himself to his mother's side.
"I miss your father terribly," she whispered, wrapping an arm around him. "You're all I have now, and you're in so much pain."
"I'm not in pain." He slipped off the necklace. His fingertips felt like they were burning.
"Take your time, Draco. I know what she meant to you."
"If you know what she means, why make me get rid of her at all?"
In response, she tightened an arm around him. "Take your time."
And Draco envisioned himself throwing away the necklace, throwing away Jane, and tears began to roll down his cheeks, big, fat tears. He clamped his mouth shut to fight off the sobs welling up in him, just pressed himself closer to his mother.
Push it down, Draco. You can do this, just… just do it.
He still didn't. He pressed the pendant to his chest and tried to tamp down all the memories he had of Jane.
Then, he let himself think about his father.
Draco didn't think of him much. It made him feel kind of numb. Kind of mad. He knew what his father would think of Jane. What he'd think of Draco now, struggling to throw her away. He let himself imagine his father berating himself for all of this madness.
"A war is no place for pansies. She's just a girl, just a muggle, come now, or else I'll throw the blasted necklace in myself…"
Draco swallowed, let his breathing even out. Wiped away the tears. Then he threw the necklace into the fire.
The pendant melted away in moments, then was swallowed up in plumes of black fire. Draco figured he was imagining it, but he could almost smell Jane's lemony shampoo.
Goodbye.
Occlumency came to him pretty quickly after that.
Draco spent that summer roaming the soulless halls of his old home, friendless and upset. All he wanted to do was see Jane. This was injustice like he had never experienced before. He had disregarded his feelings for her for almost a year, and when he decided he could give in, decided it wouldn't be too bad to fancy a muggle girl, the moment had passed him by. Summer dragged on and on and on.
Midway through July, amidst a rigorous schedule of Occlumency training with his mother and locking himself up in his room for the remainder of the day, his parents granted him access to his broomstick. His mother often watched him from a patio chair on the lawn. If not her, then Bambi, the house elf, or one of the other house servants. Draco couldn't shake off anybody.
"Mother," Draco asked one afternoon. They were lucky to see his father. His mother was often tense, but refused to indulge Draco in her worries. "If you're siding with the Dark Lord… and he hates muggles." He couldn't finish the sentence, because all he could think of was how kind his mother had been to Jane. It didn't make sense. She knew Jane was a muggle - and yet.
"If you are asking if I agree with his ideals," she said evenly, not quite meeting his gaze. "The answer is yes." she smoothed out the folds of her dress. "Whether or not I was once fond of Jane no longer matters." She looked at him now, and Draco could see the war being waged in her mind. "Jane no longer matters."
And Draco couldn't bear it. "She does matter. Mother. I-" his voice died in his throat, but he cleared it and plowed on. "She means everything to me. I can't stand not being able to see her. I'd rather face the Dark Lord right now then have to go on without her."
His mother's expression hardened immediately. Her anger was unmistakable. She pointed a finger at the fireplace. "Go then. Go to the old house. Floo over. Drop in. You have my full permission. If the Dark Lord catches you, do not come running back to me."
"Fine!" Draco yelled. "FINE!" He strode over to the fireplace, too angry to feel triumphant, or let his actions sink in, until he was standing in that fireplace, looking back at his mother.
She was sobbing, her hands pressed to her forehead. Draco reached over the awning of the fireplace, feeling with his fingers for the floo powder. He had thrown all caution to the wind in his rage, and his fingers fumbled madly for the bowl. It toppled over, the dusty powder scattering onto the marble tiles. His mother cried harder, and Draco gave up. He kicked over the bowl with a frustrated yell and stalked off.
So for the rest of the summer, Draco gave up.