Vonne: Okay, usually about this time I try to break the rest of the story down-- try to figure out how I want to have all of this end. My plan as of right now is to make this just about thirty chapters. So, there is still much, much longer to go with this and hopefully that is good news to all of you! So, with that being said, I'll get right to responding back to all of you! Thanks again for all the reviews. It keeps me motivated to write more. I have the majority of this written already- but you all definitely give me reason to update this so fast! Thanks so much, everyone!
Thwarted Moony: You'll have to find out, but since you've already read the first chapter, I'm assuming you've already got yourself prepared for something of that sort coming. I hope you're not dying anymore now that I've updated... though I'm not sure how you'll like what actually did happen. Let me know what you think. I'd love to hear. HA!
Doni: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it and I'm really glad that you were concerned... I was hoping there would be much worry. :) But, just like I told Thwarted Moony, I wonder how you'll like the end of this chapter. Let me know, as well. :)
Isabella120: I know that you didn't post a long review, but I'll say 'hello' anyways and that your review of simply 'update' reminded me to do so! Thanks!
Dramione1996: I agree with you, I hope Draco is going to be okay, too. :)
Anavell: Uhhhhmmm... don't hope toooooo hard. I'm actually dying to see what you have to say to me at the end of this... :)
Jade2099: Thank you so much. I'm truly so happy that you feel I've portrayed something so serious to come off as realistic. I've never gone through depression myself, but knowing some people that have struggled with it, I've definitely come to understand the mindset that seems to fuel it. Anyway, I'm happy to hear that your ex-boyfriend is off to "bigger and better things"! That's awesome! Furthermore, I'm really glad that you're enjoying this. I'm enjoying that you all are enjoying this, too. I hope you like this chapter just as much-- if possible. :)
Shining Bright Eyes: Ha! Draco does need a big hug right now... probably a much more enthusiastic hug after his antics in this chapter. Or maybe a bit of a socking in the face- though maybe he's already got one too many of those. Well, definitely let me know what you think.
I can't wait to hear back from you all after this. Anyway, here it is.. chapter thirteen.
Chapter Thirteen:
Happiness in the Making
Draco Malfoy was beginning to think that he truly was loosing his mind.
As he limped lifelessly down the streets- the scene of Hogsmeade after hours- he kept his eyes focused on nothing but the narrow path ahead of him, for otherwise he may have been at a complete loss. He lifted his sore arms to rewrap his scarf around his sagging shoulders, pressed down his newsboy hat on top of his blond head with a dull expression, and realized that he'd looked something of an undeniable mess. Furthermore, he had gained a new respect for those suffering with broken noses and even found himself slightly sorry for breaking Harry's back in his sixth year at Hogwarts. As he passed every dark window, he looked anxiously at his reflection- the tall yet hunched version of himself covered in spit, dirt, and blood.
Probably he'd have a black eye by the morning; the throbbing sensation behind his eye socket seemed to bitterly confirm that suspicion. The bitterly disgusting taste of iron told him that his split lip was still fresh and bleeding and the pressure at the side of his shoulder told him nothing respectively, though Draco was sure that the sign was not a good one. Though it wasn't his currently awful state that truly had him worrying- instead, Draco Malfoy cursed his foolishness.
On days when his head was clear, he would have never let three strangers sneak up on him like they had-- let alone allow them to walk away victorious. He made excuses for himself, likely due to the ample amount of pride he'd had still left over, and told himself that if he hadn't drunk anything that night, things would have gone a lot differently. Though not even Draco's hearted excuses could spare him from the considerably reoccurring thoughts that pestered his running mind. More than everything he'd loathed his ignorance. And, as he staggered down the gravel that paved the streets of Hogsmeade, he silently loathed that thoughtlessness. Perhaps his Goyle, his father, and his mother were all right. Perhaps, if only Draco would start focusing on the things that truly mattered, he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.
The clouds above him churned violently, finally drawing in as much attention to themselves as possible. It seemed as if a storm was in the works and, grimacing, Draco Malfoy shrugged, just about figuring that such weather was just his luck. And, like the icing on his misery day's cake, a tiny raindrop landed on the tip of his upper forehead, just to make his day worse. But Malfoy didn't bother to clear anything off of his visage, that was so obviously tainted beyond his current comprehension. Not even the blackly shaded windows could describe to him visually what his current appearance consisted of. However, allowing himself to look much one of the like the walking dead, he pressed his hands into his pockets and walked on continuously in a line that was presumably more of a squiggle than anything of the straight sort.
Just as he'd neared the end of Hogsmeade's streets, Draco's legs forced him back behind the little village, making the rather swift detour that he'd been aiming for initially. He struggled to remain standing as he broke off of the street, wandering in a haze through the back of the village, diving deep into the emerald green cluster of trees that surrounded the narrow road. Each hovering trunk proved invasive and unnecessary, and they stood in front of him like bothersome intruders. Malfoy shoved aside the thin branches that stuck out in his way, stumbled over the mud and permitted his unkempt hair to stick to his clammy forehead, plastering itself there like an uncanny sign of his despair. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and swallowed about a pint of his own blood. What was it about him that had made him so truly miserable? Not even Draco could pinpoint the exact moments of his life in the past that could have caused such feelings. His childhood had been admittedly idea, minus the years after he'd turned sixteen, but that was a thing of the past. Even the horrible, gut wrenching memories, the death and horror and destruction- that was years ago. His father had gotten over it and so had Goyle. So why hadn't he?
Huffing discourteously, Malfoy relaxed his shoulders, which swooped down lower with overwhelmingly unwilling force. Did his ignorance know no bounds? He gave the forrest he was walking-- or rather, limping-- through one last scrutinizing look and of course even the scenery represented his current mood. The whole place was stereotypical; each tree was stripped bare naked of any leaves and the brittle black color of each trunk resembled that of chipping paint. Above him the moon stood out like one big white ball of light, however it wasn't the light that brought the sense of hope to him. Besides, Draco never paid much attention to symbolism in literature, anyways, though he couldn't deny that his walk through the forrest perhaps meant something, if anything at all. He'd left the streets of Hogsmeade which, even after hours, had been clear and simple. Now he'd ventured an entirely different way; a way so completely off of the path that he had to literally step over tipped over logs just to progress anywhere (if, and only if, such a journey could be considered as a "progression").
But what was the use of overanalyzing the situation any longer? Nonetheless he was still stumbling onward and looking back wasn't making his body turn back around. No, not even the thoughts in his mind could turn him away from his goal at this point. Because maybe perspective was really what didn't matter all along. His fuzzy mind though him that maybe, in reality, the key to eternal happiness was... appeasement? Appeasement: because, in the end when all is said and done, everyone just ends up happy, right?
Through the darkness came a noise that even seemed to sound like a light switch turning on. "Hey," came a little meek tone that sounded out from his trouser pockets. "I know you said you needed to go a while ago, and that you needed to do something... and erm-- perspectives and all that but, uh, just thought that you didn't really know what you were talking about."
The bags under Draco Malfoy's eyes deepened. As much as he wanted to just get his goal over with, he didn't need the woman's voice on the other end making him want to change his mind. Then again, he couldn't deny wanting to talk to her as well. And, strangely enough, a nervous twitch forced his hand in his pocket and he once again pulled out the toy radio. "Ah," he said, stumbling over yet another overturned log, "so you don't think I'm thinking clearly, huh?" he asked dryly, "is that what you're trying to say?"
"No," the woman's voice retaliated back, defensively. However, her tone was rather soft and hurt, as well, as if she truly hadn't meant to sound harsh in any way. "That's actually not what I was saying at all."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. For a moment his attention wad brought away from the forrest and the shortcut he was taking within it. "Then what, pray tell, where you implying?"
Not so many miles away, Hermione reeved back quickly, staring down at the radio in her hands with brisk aggression. Her small lips mouthed, "what the hell?" before she shifted herself, regaining her posture and sitting back up, straight and alert. "Are you drunk?" she asked him, accusingly.
The response that came back to her, however, came as not so much as a surprise. Back mingled in with the cluster of shadowy trees, Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair and ignored the fact that his palms were sweaty and spotted with blood- some of which he wondered was actually his. "Yes, actually," he admitted with a frown, once again cursing his own stupidity. What was she thinking? Of course he was drunk! Surely her thoughts of him weren't already that high. "In fact, I've probably had a bit too much."
"So," Hermione said testing him, "you're making some important decision while extremely intoxicated?"
Draco stammered momentarily, though his uneasiness only lasted temporarily. "Uh, yeah," he sniffed, noticing that the blood flow from the end of his nose was getting rather heavy. "It would seem to be that way, huh." And while the tone of his voice was in no way rude or intolerable, Hermione still regarded his misery as foolish. She pursed her lips together, mulling over the situation with awkward consideration, and when she finally opened her mouth again, she found that she was really at a loss for words. Draco on the other hand, finally found the strength to wipe his face-- and he did so with the sleeve of his coat, smearing maroon blood across his pale and sullen face rather messily.
Finally, pushing her own hair behind her ears, which turned red with every passing infuriating moment, she said, "well, I think that's a load of bullshit."
Blinking, Malfoy pushed himself along the forrest grounds, his free hand gripping his immensely pulsating temples. "You do, do you?" he asked morosely, his solemn tone practically undeniable. "Thank you, that's exactly the thing that I need to hear right now." Sarcastically, he added, "some load of help you are."
Face flushing, Hermione forced her teeth into her bottom lip. "Well, fine then," she said, rather angry despite the little conversation that had actually taken place, "don't take my advice. Because I'm telling you right now that I have a feeling--"
"A feeling?" Draco choked, feeling himself grow closer to his final destination, "a feeling? You know, I happen to be very confident in what I'm doing," he lied aggressively.
"Okay," Hermione nodded, flustered, "then I'm going to have no part of it."
And perhaps it was because he was truly overly intoxicated, but Draco's pulse instantly quickened. He felt a rage towards the woman on the other end that even he couldn't explain. What did she know, anyway? She surely didn't know him at all. How was she to know what was best for him in the first place? His parents and Goyle had hinted to him exactly what they'd ahd in mind for his life. And their plans included the very happiness that Draco himself truly desired. All the while the single word that Draco could only think about was: appeasement.
As the moments of silence lingered on, Draco had to almost force himself not to toss the radio across the forrest completely. Finally, spitting with rapid and rushed fury, he said back to her, "great! Don't have any part in it. I have enough people telling me how to live my life. Right now I'm working on making each one of them happy, alright? One fucking person at a time, okay!"
Hermione once again bit her lip, her fingers slightly slipping off of the radio's plastic surface. She nodded to herself and her brown hair fell staggering in front of her pretty face. "Okay," she agreed timidly and then released her finger from the speaker button, placed the radio underneath her bed mattress, and exited her bedroom completely.
At once Draco felt the loss of something inside of him. Before the regret took over, his rage took its time to slowly die down. Though not before long, every one of his hostile and wrathful thoughts directed at the voice had been replaced with thoughts of morose and sullen guilt. Even if he didn't agree with her, which he didn't, she was really only trying to help. Despite himself, a soreness overtook his dry throat and a newfound stinging tormented his eyes. He thought himself instantly stupid, spiteful, and unchanged. But these self assumptions only further fueled his determination to do what he'd set out to do: to start to try and make everything right again.
His eyes finally found what he'd been looking for; a small little house in the near distance. And in his delusion he'd completely disregarded the fact that he'd stepped out the side of the forrest quite sometime ago. Currently he looked like a drunk as he stumbled through the ghost-like neighborhood that he knew to be a bit too quaint for the person he was aiming to see. For the first time in a long time, however, he'd found himself rather lucky-- not a soul was wandering through the neighborhood and he stood like a shadow underneath the street lights that burned down on top of him with a florescent glow.
His arms and hands straight and flat at his slender side, Draco considered the circumstances. It was now or never and this was it. No matter how much Draco regretted his life all those years before, this would make everything okay. This would define the rest of what could be perhaps a comfortable and tolerable life.
He found the house, stood at the doorstep for quite some time before lifting his hand and lowering it into a knock. This time he did not hesitate, couldn't afford to do such a thing at a time like this. As he waited for the front door to open, he wondered what would happen if he had not spoken to Goyle at all about love, life, and marriage. Wondered if things had been different if Pansy Parkinson hadn't walked back into his life...
The door in front of him pulled open rather slowly and her figure, which was of course particularly lovely, was almost completely shaded by the darkness. In the blackness of her unlit house, Draco could just barely make out the glossiness of her eyes. "Draco?" she asked, just as meekly as she'd spoken with him before. She stepped out into the minimal light very slowly, and in her emerald robe, each of her gorgeous curves were defined with every step. Standing there beautifully, she was the picture of every man's perfect dream, though Draco Malfoy felt nothing special.
Once offered more of a significant view of Malfoy, Pansy's eyes widened fearfully. Her fingers dropped from the edge of her robe that concealed her chest and she looked back at him with complete horror, "oh, Draco... what's happened to you? A-are you alright?"
Draco swallowed hard the bothersome lump that held tight in his throat. He could feel his nose begin to bleed again, could feel just about every new hole-like gash on his head do the same mercilessly. But he shook his head, not truly desiring to explain the subject any further, "Yeah," he sniffed lying, "'M fine, Pansy."
Pansy's eyes watched him, dumbfounded and terrified. But, she truly wasn't looking very well, either, despite her current wardrobe of glamorous nightwear; her face was red and slightly swollen. Maybe she'd been more hurt by Draco's initial denial than even Draco could have imagined. Despite this she didn't shut the door in his face, instead she stood there opposite him, waiting for a response that Draco wasn't even sure how to give. His mind told him to go for it, to take her in his arms, told her tightly, and marry her. He could complete the cycle, do the very thing that he'd been advised to do: live life, get engaged, have children.
"You're hurt," Pansy repeated, watching a novel haziness take over Draco's face. He looked almost completely gone, and the staggering stance bitterly proved that to her. He only lifted his hand, which was covered with blood, and whisked the question away in one quick motion before letting it fall back down with limp expression. "Draco," she said, a creeping concern lurking so obviously in her voice, "what are you doing here?"
Malfoy didn't answer; his mind was too filled with thoughts that ran through his hazy mind. It was true that he was drunk, but with each miserable idea came a ping of undeniable truth. But he wanted happiness-- wanted it now more than ever. And this was it. Pansy... Pansy was it, the key to this goal, even if he wasn't too sure of it now. Like a heart beating in rhythm, Draco heard only the chorus of everything he'd been told he needed to do.
By doing what he was about to do, he knew that he would not have to suffer his biggest fear of dying along. Because then he could not die alone. He would die by the side of someone else.
His feet unwillingly brought him forward. It was beyond his control now. He couldn't even feel it when he pushed his torso forward towards her. And the numbness took over him completely as he lifted his sweaty palms up to her face, holding her entire jaw in place. She blinked, giving him a look that lasted only momentarily before she allowed him to lunge his body forward, kissing her lips. His mind was, in truth, barely there as he reached for the strap around her silky robe and watched it drop to the floor flowingly. Pansy's long and slender arm reached out and she shut the front door to her house, letting it shut with a rather harsh slam. She permitted him to fumble off her top and, in her bra she started off for him.
A rush of victory overtook her as she reached for Draco's scarf, pulled it off of his shoulders and tossed him to the ground. With full force she yanked him up the long staircase, listening to each echo of their feet as they slapped the floor. Then she whipped Draco's newsboy hat off completely, aiming next for the dark tie around his shoulders. And because it seemed to have taken Draco such an awful long time to stop shaking and unbuckle his black trousers, she scooted his hands away and unbuttoned them herself, spinning him around and pushing him through the double doors that entered her admirable bedroom.
In the dark, Draco felt somewhat more at ease, though he couldn't help his thundering heartbeat that boomed inside his sore skeleton. He went through the motions of it all, watching helplessly as Pansy tore off his coat, tossing it to the side of her bedroom. He heard the clatter of the radio as it hit the ground and even winced, feeling grateful that Pansy's bedroom was carpeted. But even as his burning regrets began to crawl back to him, he contined blocked out every single negative thought that entered his head, forgetting about the toy completely and turning all his attention back to Pansy.
Her fingers wasted no time ripping off his shirt. And she drew her lips to his neck forcefully. In the night, Draco pressed shut his swollen eyes, lifted his upper torso, and kissed her soft and long neck.
Going through the motions he told himself that this was it, everything that he'd wanted.
True happiness in the making.
Vonne: Review!