I Love(d) You (Once)
Prologue: Five Years Ago
They hated him for his vanity-
But when he chose not to be,
They loved that he died.
—Eulogy for Lucius Malfoy in The Daily Prophet, 1998.
Case 87 Year 1998 10 August
Narcissa Malfoy is hereby declared guilty and convicted under the offence s 12A of Prohibition of Unforgivable Curses Act 1867. The jury under unanimous decision have been convinced beyond reasonable doubt that Narcissa Malfoy had not been under duress when she casted the Imperius curse on her son, Draco Malfoy. She had done this on fourteen separate occasions; each time to manipulate her son to undertake his Death Eater activities.
With Capital Punishment Act 1473 repealed, she has been sentenced to life imprisonment in Nurmengard with a minimum of thirteen years.
(12 June 1999; The shittiest birthday)
Today was Draco Malfoy's birthday. And true to tradition as it had been for the last eighteen years, the day was all about him.
Only this year it was for quite a different reason.
Instead of people coming together to celebrate his existence, an amphitheatre of purple-robed judges were deciding his fate. The head judge held up his parchment and began reading…
"Next case, Case 104 Year 1999 12 June."
There was still an angry murmur of discontent within the public. Maurice Pucey tapped Draco on the shoulder and nodded at him. He took a shaky breath and refused to look at his mother as she brushed past him, escorted by two Aurors.
The door slammed behind him and everything was silent aside from his tight leather loafers squeaking against the cold marble floor.
"The Crown has laid three counts against Draco Malfoy," read the Judge. "As established in the last hearing, he is accused of being a Death Eater, casting Unforgivables and the attempted assassination on Albus Dumbledore…"
Draco lowered his head and gritted his teeth; his heart pounded in his chest. I'll be fine, he thought. Remember what Maurice Pucey's lawyers said to you.
"All which have been proven to be under the influence of the Imperius curse—"
Blood roared into Draco's ears and he shut his eyes.
"The jury has decided a substantial proportion of the Crown's charges have failed under the confirmed facts in Case 87 Year 1998 10 August, and has allowed a successful defence of sane automatism. Medical experts have found the defendant had indeed been under the influence of the Imperius curse and his memories have been subsequently tampered with. The Crown has been unable to raise a satisfactory argument to prove their case beyond all reasonable doubt…" said the judge, and he cleared his throat.
Draco felt as though he was about to die.
"There has been a long standing rule a person cannot be criminally made responsible for their actions if the vital link between his mind and body has been severed. An act cannot become an offence on the defendant's part if there is an intervening cause beyond his influence and control. It seems a proper case to grant the defendant full acquittal.
"Draco Malfoy is hereby declared innocent and cleared of all charges."
"Yes!" Maurice did not hide his joy and punched his fist into the air. His lawyers cheered with fervour though they seemed to be part of the small proportion that was happy with this outcome.
"…Something is fishy…"
"…Definitely lying…"
Draco walked back to them with wobbly legs, completely drained by the ordeal.
Free.
Since the start of the Death Eater Trials last year, the Ministry placed him under house arrest and everyone treated him as the scum of the earth. Even after moving to three separate locations, death threats kept coming in.
The Warding community was not ready to accept Draco Malfoy as the victim of the Death Eater crimes. They cried for his blood and for a moment he thought he'd have to spend the next twenty years in prison.
Until he found out how his mother betrayed him.
"Well done, son. You did well." Maurice patted him on the back and began to lead him out of the court room.
"Next case!" the clerk yelled and another person stepped to have justice dealt to him in full.
Draco nodded and continued walking with Maurice clearing the path in front for him.
"What are your plans after denouncing the Malfoy name?" A horde of reporters flew into his face and asked.
"Would you still be able to claim your trust fund?" another one asked.
And then everything was all too much for Draco; he stopped in his tracks, looked up to the sky and burst into tears. He had held it in for the whole year—he hadn't cried once since the trials started. His parents had told him never to let his feelings show… but in the end, when did they ever teach him to do what was right? Cameras flashed around him and he didn't bother to hide his crying face.
He had enough of Britain.
Herald, J. (1999, July). This Reeks of Bullshit. In Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Student Magazine (Swish!).
The world is filled with surprises and the majority of them are bad. They range from misconstrued intentions to full-blown lies. The whole Malfoy case manages to cover BOTH ends of the continuum. Their story is utter bullshit.
Has nobody noticed Narcissa Malfoy pulled the oldest trick in the book? "My son was under the Imperius curse", blah blahblahblah! That's exactly how Lucius Malfoy got away with prison the first time. And how can Draco not remember having the Imperius cast on him? A memory charm's eaten most his memories from the last two years away? What an ultimate cop-out!
And I save the biggest hoo-ha for the last: at the scene of Lucius' "suicide", Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were with him alone. Fucking guard, how could you leave a family of deranged shits in the same room!
Do we believe the self-preserving git would kill himself?
We think not.
Who hates his daddy so much, he's won the honour of being the first pureblood to blast himself off his own family tree?
Draco Malfoy, the Karma Houdini of Our Generation.
(15 January 2000; Departure)
A couple stood beside a row of plastic chairs one floor above the check-in area at the International Terminal, locked in a tight hug more in familiarity than affection, ignoring the steady stream of people through the departure gates. One was a woman with an immaculate chocolate-brown bob, donned in a knee-length dress. She was Pansy Parkinson. She wore the colour of mourning because today was a farewell. She leaned forward and moulded herself into a man's fierce embrace. He was Draco Malfoy. He wore a crisp black suit for this special day. At this precise moment, Pansy was drowning him.
There were a few things Draco hated but tolerated for Pansy: an unmade bed, masquerade balls and sloppy kisses; such as the one they shared now. He had loved Pansy, but not enough to sacrifice his life. Her lips slid against his and he moved almost lazily, responding only when she urged him with persistent cues.
"Pansy—" he said as they broke apart for a moment to take a breath. Her only response was to pull him closer. "Pansy!" he said again, this time pulling his head back.
She looked up at him with her brown eyes and scowled. "What?"
"Drool."
Wordlessly—because this had happened so many times before—she pulled out a pack of tissues from her designer bag and handed it Draco.
"Sorry," she said, giggling. "Boy I'll miss this."
"Watching me wipe your spit from my face? You freak."
"I meant snogging, you oaf!"
"You mean you'll take a vow of chastity?"
"As if!"
Draco smirked evilly. "I hope my next girlfriend—"
"No one in their right mind would want to date you," Pansy said, leaning forward to give Draco a kiss on the cheek.
"It's okay, you've given me plenty of experience to handle crazy women. And what's not to love about me? I'm charming and nasty."
"There's one thing I regret," said Pansy, squeezing him tight. "I didn't make use of you enough."
"What," he asked, half-joking, "You mean, all those handbags weren't enough?"
Pansy sniffed into his shirt. "No, that's not what I meant."
"Oh yeah. I always knew you were using me for my body."
Pansy let out a loud sob and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "I just can't believe you're leaving today!"
"Of all days, right? It's not like you knew for the whole of last year."
"Why did you have to take your NEWTS this winter? I thought I'd have at least one last year with you in Hogwarts."
"That'd be a complete waste of time." The memories of what happened during the Battle would plague him the entire time. Plus, he wouldn't have his little entourage. And what was life without a band of followers behind you?
"But that would've meant we could spend more time together."
"You were the one who wanted to break up."
"You did too."
"Long distance would never work," he added and he frowned when he heard the familiar sound of cameras clicking, seeing flashes off going off like a firework display. "Ugh."
"…I would have received too much attention. This isn't just about me, the other students would be affected too," Hermione said to a reporter as he shoved a recorder to her face.
"With her being in America for the next three years, how do you think your relationship will fare?"
"That's between us—" Hermione protested, having enough of her love life published and broadcast everywhere.
"What, Hermione? People are probably dying to know! We are kind of famous y'know." Ron leaned forward in excitement and grabbed the recorder out of the reporter's hand. "If our love held up while we were fighting with Voldemort, I can't imagine distance being a problem."
Reporters cooed at his declaration of love and at saying You-Know-Who's name aloud (people still refrained from saying it aloud out of sheer habit) and they cheered when Ron grabbed Hermione and gave her a loud, dramatic kiss. Hermione blushed—she could never initiate public affection—but returned the favour.
At least he was enjoying the attention, Draco thought.
"Please," Hermione said after the display. "Could you please leave us, I'd like to spend our last moments in private."
Ron wrapped his arms around her and nodded. "Please. Just remember there will be plenty more of this from years to come."
The reporters laughed good-naturedly and in nothing short of a miracle, began to disperse. Draco's mouth hung open. Being a war-hero really was something; even the media who had finally lost interest in him after months and months of hounding listened to what the Golden Trio said.
Draco and Pansy mirrored each other's expression of pure disgust and turned away from the mass of reporters and the Golden Couple.
"Bet they won't last a week," Pansy said in a particularly loud and obnoxious tone so there was no chance for the couple to miss what she said.
Ron made a disgusted noise and stomped towards them. "Ron, don't. She's not worth our time."
Pins struggled to stay in Hermione's hair and from the slickness of her hair. Draco grinned; he could tell she spent at least an hour with a bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion having expected cameras.
"Draco, let's go somewhere else," whined Pansy, breaking him out of his observations. "I don't want to get too close. They have fleas!" Draco's gaze lingered on Hermione's face just to catch her reaction—a scowl—before turning away. "Like EW!"
"Malfoy." Hermione stopped in front of him, her neck rigid with tension. Ron turned bright red as though he was a volcano, about to erupt.
"Granger."
"Pug-face!"
"Freckle-face!"
"You're here," Hermione said to Draco. Of course, he's here! she thought. He's standing in front of me.
"Yes I am." Draco wrinkled his brow and his mind went on an overdrive to decipher what all these signs meant. She was at the departure gates at exactly the same time as him.
Salem Institute's orientation day was starting in two days' time.
Hermione Granger was a smart girl and she declined the offer to be the Head of the Magical Law department. She said she needed to educate herself further before taking a position with such a large responsibility.
She bit her lips and wondered what to say. She hadn't seen him since the Battle of Hogwarts but read plenty about him in the newspaper. "Salem?" she asked, having arrived to the same conclusion as him.
"Yes."
"What?" Ron asked. He appeared by Hermione's side, having grown tired of arguing with Pansy who for all her frivolity was an endless come-back machine. "You, you're going to Salem? How did you get in? Buy your way in there with your dad's dirty money?"
"Ron!" Hermione snapped, heat rising to her face.
Draco looked at him as though he was an offending piece of rubbish. "I am not going to respond to that."
"You don't know what you're talking about. You idiot!" Pansy screamed at Ron before turning to Hermione. "Control him! He's embarrassing!"
"I'm not some animal!"
Hermione stepped in front of Ron, shooting him a furious look. "Can you not cause a scene and just wish me a goodbye?" she asked in a hushed whisper. Hermione tugged Ron's arm and lead him away.
The fire died in Ron's eyes and he grabbed her hands in his. "Sorry, 'ermione. Today was meant to be all about you. I'm sorry." He gave her a zillion-watt smile, and she flashed a smile back at him, just as bright, and showered him with kisses.
"Can you believe him?" Pansy fumed as Draco pulled her to the side. "They should put a collar on the likes of him! That animal," she huffed. "That Mudblood should have kept him on his leash—"
"Pansy."
"If this was Hogwarts I would have ordered Goyle to push him off the Astronomy Tower. Show them who's on top." She looked up at Draco and sighed when she saw the look on his face. "Whoops, sorry! I forgot, you've graduated from calling people that."
"That was Pucey's condition on being my patron." That didn't seem like a bad deal for Draco. "In the end, all my relatives were so consumed with hate for Muggles and non-purebloods, they didn't even care or love what they were supposed to be protecting. They gave up their humanity to protect their beliefs. I don't want to end up like them."
"Yes, yes. All propriety and no bullying makes Draco one dull boy. No wonder I'm dumping you." She went on her tip-toes and gave a kiss on his cheek. "That's what I'll tell them anyway."
He couldn't help but smile. "As if they would believe you."
"Oh, I'll make them."
"You are the best at spinning stories."
"I hate you."
"I know."
They hung in each other's embrace for a while longer before Pansy pulled back. "You should go," she said, looking down so Draco wouldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. He had told her on more than once occasion that he rather gouge his eyes out than watch her cry.
She knew it didn't mean that he would risk his vision to prevent her from crying, but sometimes she liked to interpret it that way.
Made things kind of romantic, in a morbid sense.
"So… I guess that's it," he said, pulling his arms off her and shoving them into his pockets.
"Yup."
"You know, I might actually miss you. See you," he said. He squeezed her once on the shoulder and headed towards the departure gates without a second look back.
He didn't even wait for Pansy to say good-bye. That jerk.
The Muggle Revolution: Effective Solutions to Electromagnetic Interference
Author(s): K. Hwang, A. Pucey, P. White
Source: Transactions of the Institute of British Magic, New Serial, Vol 18:3 (2000), pp 309-325.
ABSTRACT: In this paper, we identify the underlying problem with Muggle technology and magic as electromagnetic interference (EMI). We report the successful compatibility with magic and Muggle devices when they are built with the addition of a Faraday Cage (mesh constructed of ferrite metals) and supplementary charms. We find in our three models, integration with Muggle technology – electricity, battery, and associated devices are functional and operational with 95% supply reliability...
Draco and Hermione lined up behind other passengers as they waited to get their coats and hand-held luggage examined by the Customs. She rushed after Draco and grabbed his arm as soon after she collected her luggage.
"Granger?"
"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "What Ron said about your father… and your money. I hope you'll accept my apology."
"It's not like you were the one who said it."
"Still… I truly am sorry," she said, turning red while wondering why she was apologising to him.
"For what?" He rose one eyebrow at her.
"F-For what happened to you."
"Thank you?" he said, confused at her words.
Cue the most awful silence between the two.
"So… are you going to see Pansy in the holidays?" she asked when the awkward silence between them reached an unbearable saturation point.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "We just broke up."
"Oh." Was all she could say. They sure were touchy-feely for two people not in a relationship.
"Long distance relationships are a waste of time."
"Well!" said Hermione. "You don't know about that!" She lifted her chin as though she were meeting a challenge. "I'm sure some relationships can survive the distance. I mean, if you're meant to be together."
"You think you're meant to be with Weaselbee?" asked Draco, wrinkling his nose.
"Better than pug-face Pansy!" she snapped before regret filled her features. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."
Draco shrugged. "Guess Pansy and I weren't meant to be."
"There's always second chances. Maybe when you come back."
"Maybe." Draco's head tilted to the side, unconvinced of this.
Hermione gave a cautious smile. "There are. I'll prove to you second chances exist."
"Sorry?"
"When we arrive in Salem. Let's start off on a clean slate. Pretend not to know each other. Who knows, we might end up being friends."
"We invite those in first class step forward…"
He looked up at the attendant who had amplified her voice with her wand. "That's me." Draco hesitated before offering his hand to her. Hermione accepted his hand without delay and gave him a firm handshake. "To second chances," she said. Draco gave Hermione a shy smile and found her expression mirrored his.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," said the attendant, smiling up at him.
As the boat lifted off the water, it rumbled and shook as it made its ascent. Two people sat on one flying ship with fifty seats between them. In first class was Draco Malfoy, trying not to hurl his lunch. He never liked flying boats but they were definitely the safest for long-distance travels. Port-Keys of course were faster, but the risk of letting go of the key when one were travelling between two countries meant grievous injury or finding oneself dead in the middle of nowhere. In the economy-seat, Hermione gripped the side of her chair as she swallowed multiple times to clear her ears, handling the change in altitude better than Draco.
The boat rose above the turbulence and soon the seatbelt signs over their heads flickered off. The two on the boat stared out of their windows, lost in thought. Hermione kept a steady heart believing her relationship would withstand the distance while Draco nursed his sore (but not broken) heart. Something had just transpired beyond their awareness, and they could no longer say they loathed each other's existence.
Draco looked through the window, mulling over the burning question which would continue to plague him for the better half of the decade as he headed towards his destination. A flight attendant walked the length of the ship, making sure everyone was comfortable in their seats. He brushed past Draco, and the blond snapped out of his reverie as the man apologised to him.
"Sorry." – Hermione's words echoed in his head. Second chances. He smiled a rare smile without malice.
Author note: First things first, a disclaimer. JKR owns HP, not me. I've been wanting to write something lighter, fast-paced, and a story more involved with society post-War. Hence, this story was born. Needless to say, this is not a sequel or related in anyway to DMHQS. A huge thank you to my alpha-reader, hiddenhibernian; and my beta-reader for this story, MysticDew.
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