HIM
He dreams of palm trees, white sand and emerald water.
He knows she's there but can't see her.
Only the white sand beach as far as the eye can see.
It's beautiful and serene, but something, some voice on the back of his mind nags, that something is off. That it's almost too perfect to be real.
A wave crashes to the shore and he wakes up with a jolt.
And something is definitely off!
He sits up in his bed and listens to the sounds in the room.
People are talking.
People… talking?
He doesn't remember closing the curtains around his bed.
They never do, because who's going to see them?
For a year there has been no one but him and her, they don't need curtains.
But now they are closed.
He yanks the curtains open.
"Morning sunshine!" Theo greets him.
Theo?
Reality sinks in little by little. Is this a dream?
Hermione…
The thought hits his mind and he turns around to look for her. She must be as confused as he is.
But she's not there.
He ruffles the sheets like she might be hiding in them.
Blaise enters and asks what he's looking for.
Everything feels surreal!
He was holding her, she was next to him!
And now she isn't!
His hand shoots up to feel the vial around his neck. Thank god it's still there!
So, it wasn't all a dream.
He looks at his friends.
Wants to ask what day is it? How long was he gone?
But they don't look like nothing is off. They don't act like any time has passed at all.
"I wish it was the seventh year already." He groans, testing the ground.
If they were gone as long as they thought they were, it would be the start of their seventh year.
"Tell me about it! At least we'd be off age then!" Blaise answers.
So it isn't.
He thinks of his dream about the tropical beach, and suddenly vaguely remembers he has had that dream before.
It was when he first ended up trapped in the empty castle with her.
Is he back to the start?
Is she too?
That must be it! They're back!
Somehow, they've gotten back to where it all began, and no time has gone by?
So, she has woken up in Gryffindor and must be as confused as he is!
He throws his clothes on in haste and starts to make his way to the Great hall.
The voices of other people buzz in his ears and make his headache.
Their silence was convenient. Now there are too many people. Too much noise!
He bumps into people as he goes, but doesn't care.
His only thought is her.
If they're back to square one.
Back to reality,
to his impossible task,
to death eaters and dark mark and demands and death!
She's the only one who can help!
She's his voice of reason!
She knows him almost like no one else does!
Together they'll figure out what to do now.
He's back to this nightmare they call reality and she's the only one who can save him!
He needs her!
Desperately! As pathetic as it sounds.
And yes, she's there!
Relief flushes over him.
She's back too! Sitting in the Gryffindor table, talking to her friends.
A part of him is disappointed she didn't look for him. That she just casually sits there as if nothing has changed, when everything has!
He makes his way to her and taps her shoulder.
But when she turns, he realizes...
And it's like someone poured a bucket of ice water on his head.
She looks at him like she doesn't know him.
Or she does.
But not like she really knows him. Not like the girl who fell asleep in his arms just hours ago did.
"What do you want Malfoy?" She asks with a cold voice.
He didn't even remember she used to talk to him like that.
He doesn't know what to say, how to approach her.
Keep it cool, he tells himself.
Don't let her see something's wrong.
Don't let them see how lost you feel.
"Do you have your vial?" Is the only thing he can think of asking, that'll make any sense at all.
If she still has it, then maybe there's still hope she'll come back.
"What are you playing at?" She asks with a low disapproving voice.
Weasley stands up and tells him to Fuck off and stop bothering them if he has nothing better.
He wants to retort back, but her vial is more important.
"Do you have it!?" He points at her neck.
She sighs and shows him the pendant around her neck, "No Malfoy! I don't have any vials! And I have no idea what you're talking about."
She doesn't have it.
The pendant she impatiently waves at him is not a vial.
She has lost it.
And maybe it's because of that, she's lost it all.
All the months with him, she has no idea they ever existed.
He turns around and dashes away from the room.
Just hours ago, life was good! Life was right!
He had her, she was his!
And now there's nothing left!?
He runs upstairs, to the room where they found the eerie golden clock. Maybe he'll find answers there.
But the room is empty.
He stands in the middle, feeling like the walls closing in.
Like the weight that their solitude lifted from his shoulders is pressing him down again.
Then he gives up and falls on his knees on the floor, burying his head to his hands.
She's gone.
And he's alone again.
And their world,
the beautiful silent serenity,
has gone with her.
.
.
.
It's the same day they left. So, for anyone else nothing has changed.
He follows his classmates to the classes. Sits in the back row staring at the wall, turning the vial in his hands, feeling like a ghost.
A shell...
Repair the cabinet.
Kill Dumbledore.
His impossible tasks are back on.
The life of everyone he held dear is back in his hands.
Except for her. At least she's safe! At least they can't touch her because of him.
His hand closes around the vial as he realizes how dangerous it is to have it on him.
If someone takes it and sees the memories it holds she'll be in danger whether she remembers or not!
He has to hide it!
"Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall is looking at him with expecting look.
He has no idea what she asked. Not even sure what the topic of the class is.
There are far more important things to worry about.
So, he claims he doesn't feel good and walks out of the room without waiting for permission to leave.
Fuck them, they don't know anything!
Rushing downstairs, he runs into her.
It's not even his fault and still, she looks at him disapprovingly.
He doesn't like that look on her.
But this may be his only chance to find out if she really doesn't remember. Or if she just changed her mind about him. Or if she's just pretending.
So, he grabs her arm, turning her to him.
She smells familiar, like home...
"Granger," He hisses.
"Let go of me!" She demands with the same foreign voice she talked to him in the morning.
"Did something weird happen to you this morning?" He asks hastily, not letting go of her wiggling arm.
"Are you threatening me?" She shoots back.
Did he sound like it? Did she really think… she really used to hate him then!?
"No, Granger." He looks straight at her.
Her hair is the same.
Her familiar form,
her lips, and her eyes…
but the look on her face is not.
That look doesn't belong to the girl he misses
badly,
already!
"Just asking, did something weird happen?" He needs to know!
She yanks her hand free, "No, Malfoy! Nothing weird happened to me! And even if something did, it's not your business!"
Then she's gone.
He stares after her. Her scent lingering in his nose.
Not knowing what else to do he turns and makes his way back to the dungeons.
Transforms the vial into uninteresting pedant and slips it back around his neck.
No matter she doesn't remember, he's not ready to give up just yet!
.
.
.
More than once he paces behind Dumbledore's door.
More than once he plans on going to the Headmaster and telling him everything.
He does the same behind Snape's door.
But he doesn't trust Snape. Snape's a Death Eater.
And Dumbledore, he trusts even less.
So, he doesn't go in.
Instead, he goes to The Room of Requirement to see the cabinet.
It still standing there, dark and threatening, but it's not impossible to fix anymore.
He knows how to do it. They figured it out with her. But he doesn't want to.
He's not going to!
Not yet at least.
There is time. It's only the beginning of the year. He has time to pretend he's putting his all into it.
Maybe the time gives him an opportunity to think.
What is it he wants out of life?
What is it he can do?
The answers felt so much simpler when there was just the two of them and their silent castle.
When there were so much fewer things to want from life.
When there were no people in danger because of his decisions.
When she was there with him.
She made things feel right.
Now she exists only in his memories and stored in a tiny bottle around his neck.
From there, it's so much harder to find her.
Like she's already slipping away.
.
.
.
The mark in his hand burns. Not like when He's calling, but like reminding him it's there.
He had forgotten how it felt, to have this constant burning reminder.
It burned for a while in there too, but as days went by, the mark became just an ugly tattoo.
It stopped to mean anything.
She used to study it closely sometimes.
"It's not even that ugly." She had said one day, "I mean, I've seen worse."
He had laughed…
Laughing felt foreign now. Like he couldn't remember how to do it.
But then, he had laughed, "It's not that bad because you've seen worse? You really need to work on your compliments, Granger!"
She was right though, it wasn't that bad, because it meant nothing.
Now, he sits on his bed and stares at the skull and the snake.
He hates it! Hates it more than anything!
It's not that ugly… bullshit!
It's the worse tattoo he could have! And it'll never go away!
He drags his nails along the mark, willing to tear it off with his bare hands.
He'll never be rid of Voldemort. Not as long as he has this.
Thinking of anything else is just fooling himself!
The scratches his fingers left draw blood. He stares as it drips along his wrist, drawing red lines across the skull.
.
.
.
Even now that he doesn't have to worry about repairing the cabinet, he still goes to the library.
If he needs to go through every single book they already went through, to find any hint what happened, he'll do it!
If there's any chance to make her remember again, he'll find it!
It felt hopeless the first time and there were two of them. That doesn't stop him!
So, he reads,
and reads,
and reads,
so much his head is spinning.
But nothing quite matches to what they went through.
She, or this reality's version of her, is there too.
He never noticed how much she actually spends time in the library.
But she never looks at him twice. And even if he yearns to talk to her, misses her worse every day, he doesn't either.
Because this is not the girl he misses! Even if everything she is feels so familiar, she's not the same girl.
That's what he tells himself over and over again.
And the books give him nothing new.
Of course, they don't!
If there would have been answers they would have found them already!
But he had hoped…
Did he never learn? Hoping was for fools!
.
.
.
Letters from his parents don't make it any easier.
Pressure.
That's what reads between the lines.
His father is in Azkaban, but he can still read him from his mother's handwriting.
Make the family proud, Dear.
Family stands together, always.
He closes his eyes and remembers the desperation that made him climb the tower that night.
The feeling of being locked in with no way out.
He had already made peace with it.
Was already dead, until she dragged him back up and back to life.
But now, squeezing the paper in his hand, he's just as locked in as he was then.
Nothing's better!
He dashes through the corridors, willing to get away! Anywhere! away!
He runs until he finds himself from an empty toilet.
"This is girl's lavatory." An irritated ghost, that reminds him of Potter, complains.
But he doesn't care!
The ghost being here tells him enough that this toilet is not on use.
No one will bother him here!
He can't breathe.
Black dots swim in his vision as he tries to draw breath.
He stumbles to the sink and tries to splash his face with cold water.
The world is just fucked up!
Fucked up! And there's nothing he can do!
Either way, someone's going to suffer.
Either way, someone gets killed!
Either way, he's the bad guy.
He hits his fist to the mirror.
The glass shatters in a thousand pieces and pain explodes through him.
But the pain is good! Pain is better than emptiness,
better than despair.
"Malfoy?"
It's fucking Potter!
Potter of all people!
He turns around and raises his wand, trying to decide how badly he wants to hurt the fucking golden boy.
But Potter is faster.
And before he realizes what's happening, his bleeding out.
Dying! He's dying!
He didn't have to jump again! Potter did it for him!
How ironic.
He falls to the ground and feels the blood pump out of his system.
With his last strength, he lifts his hand to the pendant around his neck.
At least he's not alone. At least she's still with him.
He can almost hear her.
She's sitting on the ground, cradling his head on her lap, whispering that it'll be alright.
He can smell her scent.
Feel her soft fingers in his hair.
It doesn't matter Potter killed him. Because Potter also gave him this last moment with her.
That's all he could ask for.