Song Suggestion: Ryan Caraveo- "Bang"
A/N: I had to step back from writing due to a significant health problem, along with some crap things because of covid. But now I'm back, healthier, and ready to finish! Thanks for your patience and for everyone that checked up on me. It kept me going through this rough year!
Shattered Pieces
Draco
Draco stared at the ring under a glass case.
"I applied all the appropriate charms," a half-goblin said, perched on the end of a stool with a magnifying glass attached to one eye.
He stood inside Cobb and Webb's, an all-purpose store in Knockturn Alley that specialized in goblin made jewelry, both for normal and nefarious purposes. This past week he'd been home for the spring holidays, and this was the first time he'd been able to separate from his mother.
Don't you see I've fallen for you?
It gave enough stupid, blind hope to begin to imagine a future.
The end design came out better than he hoped: a simple silver band with a brilliant ruby in the center, the highest grade available and an ode to her house. He didn't want any excuse for her to say no—not even the color of the stone. In the end, he spent a minor fortune.
"It will do," he said after a thorough inspection. Like his father taught him, he never let on he approved of the product. A greedy soul sensed desperation in a place like Knockturn Alley.
He laid a mound of Galleons on the table, and the half-goblin's eyes glimmered.
The ring came in a little black box, nestled in velvet. Draco placed it in his pocket, patting it as he stepped onto the cobblestone street, looking around for eyes. His father had contacts everywhere, and no one could be trusted, not even the homeless beggars.
Draco
When he arrived home, his mother stood in the foyer with a delicate frown, her only tell that something bothered her. Draco braced himself.
"Your father is on the floo. They allowed him ten minutes."
His mother's feathers didn't ruffle this easy. A weight settled in his stomach.
His father didn't bother with sentimental rot. He would use this personal floo time for an agenda. As he walked the staircase, the Ring felt heavy in his pocket, threatening to rip the seams of his robes as he walked toward his father's study.
He entered, finding his father's face floating in the dying ashes. Before he could say hello, his father frowned at him.
"I've heard disappointing rumors." Even in the ashes, his father managed to show his derision.
The ring. Even with taking precautions, his father already knew. Despite having his assets frozen, Lucius still managed to out money him through deals, bribes, and contacts.
"What of it?" Draco said.
"It's distasteful."
"Is that your only objection?"
Draco heard the click of his father's cane.
"It's also foolish. Have you at least secured the memory?"
"Of course."
The memory—an additional fucking thing he had to be delicate with. Granger would never forgive him if he blocked her from justice. But neither would his father if he were placed in Azkaban. It was a quandary he still hadn't figured out. Either way, he lost everything.
"And will she be correctly muzzled when the time comes?"
Draco paused a moment too long.
"Of course."
"Draco…" His father sighed. "Beyond dangerous or outrageous requests, have I ever denied you anything?"
"No."
"Have I given you everything you needed or desired?"
"You have."
"Then obey this one simple request." The fire crackled as his father's face came fully into view. "End this debacle with the muggleborn. Nothing good can come of it."
"Father, I—"
"Do you expect me to believe that Dumbledore's pet will suddenly give up her sense of justice, her self-righteousness, for you!"
No, Granger wouldn't give up anything for him. She'd tear down every brick of the ministry if it meant doing the right thing.
"I'm not giving her up."
His father sighed again, as if in pain, and it only served to make Draco wary. It was unlike him to show this much emotion.
"I didn't think you would." There was a sound like a rustle of papers on the other side of the floo. "Which is why I've taken the choice from your hands, since you can't listen to reason. Miss Granger won't wish to live the life you've planned. I've contacted Rita Skeeter just yesterday."
A dread unfolded in him as he understood. His mother's tempered restraint. His father's pained sigh. It should have been enough warning, but it still drowned him the instant he comprehended.
He swayed on his feet.
"No," he whispered. "Don't print it."
"The papers will be released after Beltane."
It was too much. Too soon. He had planned for months, maybe even years to ease Granger into it—the understanding of his life and his obligations.
Draco grabbed ahold of the nearest object, a vase with painted rune. Probably old. Probably priceless. It smashed into the floor into a million glorious pieces. The destruction felt wonderful.
"Control yourself!"
Draco grabbed another rare object and hurtled into the wall beside the fireplace.
He restrained everything for so long. He wasn't sure he could stop.
"Draco!" His father snapped. "You will fulfill your duties. This you have no choice in. Rage against it if you want. However else you order life is up to you. But this… this is non-negotiable."
Draco panted. The next object he held, a delicate glass bird, he crushed in his hand. The glass lacerated the skin of his palm. The pain focused him, excised his anger, and cleared his head.
His father was right. Rage could not change a thing. He needed to think up a plan before she saw the prophet. Because he knew if she saw it first not even the mythical muggle gods could piece together the shattered pieces.
"Goodbye father." He hoped his tone conveyed his hatred. He wasn't sure if he could ever forgive him for doing this without his consent.
"Draco… I'm doing this for your own good. It will be less painful than—" his father began, almost gently. But he was through listening. He walked out and slammed the door behind him.
Hermione
The moment Hermione saw Draco she knew something bothered him. During the welcoming feast in the Great Hall, he picked at his food, skin sallow, dark shadows under his eyes. His hair stuck into different places, and he avoided her eye contact.
He reminded her of sixth year, resembling more a ghost than man.
It troubled Hermione so much she did something she never did—she reached through the link. It gave a pleasant thrum when she concentrated, as if a sigh of relief now that they were closer together. Distance strained it. Earlier in the year they discovered the link functioned like legilimency, though not as powerful. The other person could block the other out if they wanted.
Today, Draco threw up an impenetrable brick wall. He didn't want her in his mind, that was clear enough.
"What's wrong?" She mouthed.
His face softened when he finally looked at her.
Nothing.
When can we meet?
Sometimes their schedules allowed multiple times a week. Sometimes it was every other weekend.
Next Saturday at the lake. He said. Bring the cloak.
Hermione
The water glistened in the moonlight. Tiny ripples fluttered across the glassy surface; a subtle reminder monsters rested just beneath the beauty. The giant squid and the mermaids were normally nocturnal hunters, only coming out during the day on special occasions.
Hermione made sure to keep her distance as she walked her way across the spongy soil. Draco stood close to the water. He held a broom in one hand and a riding cloak in the other.
"The air will be chilly," he said when she reached him. The circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced. She wished to ask what troubled him, but something in his expression stilled her tongue.
"What are we doing?"
She didn't dress for anything special, wearing muggle jeans and an old, comfortable shirt. She hid under her invisibility cloak on the way out, though Hermione doubted anyone would get her in trouble if they discovered her out past curfew. This final year was more of a special gesture than a requirement.
"Celebrating Beltane, of course."
Beltane. It was the first of May.
A thrill went through her. Of course, she had heard of the rituals and celebrations surrounding the day. It was falling out of fashion for the newer generations, but the old school Purebloods still participated in the ancient rites.
"You would do that… with me?"
She had never participated before. There was no invitation from the purebloods, who held their rituals under tight secrecy. And the purebloods she did know, like Ron, did not celebrate it like the Malfoys did. Though she suspected Luna still did. There was a good chance they would come across her dancing in the woods, communing with the sprites.
Draco looked away, toward the forest. Shadows danced behind his eyes.
"There's no one to stop us." He gave a hard smile. "Though it will be smaller than the formal events. The runes might not take, and the ritual might not work without enough people to perform together."
"I heard these are usually adult only events." Hermione said. "How do you even know how one works if you've never participated?"
Beltane encompassed rituals that promoted growth and health. There were spells that increased magic and supposedly lengthened lifespans, though most were like charms. Fluffy without any real substance. However, there were others meant for couples, which made it an adult event.
"Let's just say the adults in my life underestimated my ability to sneak around. Or, more likely, my father knew and did not care." He straddled the broom, leaving enough room for her. "Now are you coming, or will your Gryffindor courage finally fail?"
The challenge zinged between them, giving his face a spark of life she hadn't seen for two weeks.
Flying still was not an appealing activity. Nevertheless, she straddled the broom, allowing Draco's hand to flatten on her lower stomach and push her close to him as they flew off into the sky.