Hellooooo! I'm back! (At least, for a little bit) :D
Work has been preeeeeeeetty tough these past months, but now I've got a bit of free time and I thought: "Welp, what better time to write on the fanfiction! :D" So, here it is! – I'm currently working on the next chapter, so that you don't have to wait too long. But, just in case, I won't say when it's coming up ^^ Hopefully soon enough.
Anyway, as always: THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK YOU so much for your support! X I very much appreciate it! x
Enjoy your reading! x
Her broken-hearted Veela
Chapter IX: Memories.
…
"Memories are not a key to the past, but to the future."
…
Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale.
The rage slowly faded away, the anxiousness reluctantly vanished.
Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale.
Cormac couldn't hurt his Hermione anymore. His mate was safe. She was safe, and that was all that mattered.
Inhale… Exhale… Inhale…
His beautiful Hermione didn't know anything about what had just taken place, so, surely, she wouldn't reject him. She wouldn't be appalled by him. She wouldn't be scared by him. She was brave. She was clever. She was beautiful. And most importantly…
She was his.
Exhale.
After some tedious breathing exercises, Draco finally regained his composure. He looked at Zabini, who was casting minor healing spells on McLaggen. Malfoy gave him a slight nod, silently thanking him for not letting him kill the moronic Gryffindor, even though there had been nothing more he had wanted to do in that moment. The Italian returned the nod, acknowledging that the blonde was back to his normal self. Now was the time to continue with their plan.
"So… Have you calmed down? Tutto a posto?"
"I'm fine, just a bit tired from that little… outburst." Draco told him, "Have you altered his memory yet?"
Zabini shook his head.
"I was waiting for you."
"Waiting for me? Why?" Draco asked, confusion written over his face, as he raised his eyebrow.
"Well, in order to come up with a memory alteration that makes sense for his wounds, McLaggen had to be attacked first. And, well, needless to say, you've quite outdone yourself. I've mended some of the deeper cuts which could only have been caused by some sort of creature, and I've cast a healing spell on some of the bruises on his chest."
Draco shot him an icy glare. In his opinion, the fucker deserved to die, yet he was still alive and some of the deeper wounds had been fixed up. It was unfair.
"Don't give me that look, you know I had to do it. Besides, take a look at the lad. He's still fucked up."
"Not fucked up enough, if you ask me."
"Draco, calm the fuck down, will you? We don't want to raise any suspicions. And if it's any consolation to you, he still has a broken nose."
Draco rolled his eyes. It wasn't exactly a consolation, but the blonde couldn't deny that the broken nose was a nice touch.
"I know, Zabini, I'm not an idiot. That doesn't mean I like it." Malfoy huffed out in annoyance, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "So, in regards to the memory alteration… What did you come up with?"
"The most plausible explanation for his wounds would be a flying accident. You know, he was drunk, decided to go flying around, lost control and fell." Zabini explained, "However, there might be a slight problem with that."
"Hm? What's that?"
"His broomstick is still at the Quidditch pitch, obviously intact."
"…We have to break it."
"Esattamente. We need to split up. You go get his broomstick, break it in half and bring it back, while I stay with McLaggen and alter his memory." Draco shot him another glare, and Zabini rolled his eyes, anticipating what the blonde was about to ask him. "Ugh. Malfoy, for Salazar's sake, don't ask the fucking obvious. You know it's a stupid question. I'm staying with the lad, and that's final. Otherwise you'd kill him, and I'm not facing Azkaban because you went ballistic on him."
"Aw, what do you mean, you're not facing Azkaban for me?"
"I mean: Oh, sweet mother of fuck, no."
"And you call yourself my best friend. Zabini, your words wound me."
Both men snickered dryly and nodded at each other with determination.
This was the essence of their friendship. Even in dire situations, Malfoy and Zabini lifted each other up with dry sense of humour, while never losing focus on what was at stake. It was in those moments that they felt like they were brothers, knowing that they would never betray nor let each other down. Especially in the situation Draco found himself in, the blonde was grateful for Zabini. Although Malfoy lost his mind completely in his Veela form, the Italian was the voice of reason which could bring him back to his senses, even though it scared him shitless.
"Fuck off, and go wreck his precious broomstick, Malfoy. I'll be waiting by the lake."
…
Once Blaise couldn't hear Draco's steps on the crunchy leaves spread all over the forbidden forest, he let out a heavy breath he didn't even realise he was holding in. He hoped for relief, but instead, a fit of anxiety kicked in.
His mind became filled with thick fog, all coherent thoughts were momentarily gone. Beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, slowly falling down his nose, leaving a trail along his eyebrows, slowly dripping from his cheek. His jaw began to tremble, as the tightness in his chest increased by every second passing by. Familiar, uncomfortable tingles in his lungs kept him from breathing normally, making his heart rate increase. It strongly pounded with threatening speed, as if it wanted to break free from his rib cage. It resonated everywhere: In his burning-warm ears, in the back of his dry tongue, in his sore throat, on his raw fingertips.
Horrifying fear and scorching agony embraced his being, as the images and the screams from minutes ago crossed his mind.
"I'll do anything, but please stop! Please, I beg of you, please, stop. STOP!"
He could hear the ripping of McLaggen's clothes as Malfoy's claws pierced through the fabric. He saw the fresh droplets of blood being propelled from his skin, a bright red shade, contrasting with the darkness of the forest, lit by the pale light of the full moon.
"I won't stop, McLaggen. I can't bring myself to stop."
Those fangs, those claws, those wings. Those terrifying, pitch black eyes. That savage fierceness. – A sight not suitable for the faint of heart. And yet, that sight could easily become dissolved by using the dirtiest of tricks, threatening the Veela with his deepest fear: Rejection.
"Do you want her to push you away?"
"My Hermione… No, please, not her…"
That stinging pain in his voice. That agonising fear in his eyes. That sheer vulnerability emanating from Draco. It was utterly cruel when Zabini saw his best friend crumble in angsty despair, even if it had to be done.
An electrifying chill ran through his spine as he recalled that memory. He wanted to forget. – No, he needed to forget if he wanted to keep helping Draco, which he did, but his sanity could only take so much. The only solution was to erase this gruesome memory from his mind.
And so, Blaise reached out for his pocket and grabbed two tiny, empty flasks made of glass. They were meant for storing McLaggen's memory of the torture: One for the actual storage and the other was for the case the first one broke before they could alter the memory. But considering the attack was over and both small bottles were still intact, it appeared only one ampule would suffice to fit the purpose.
Moving his wand to his temple, Zabini closed his eyes and whispered the memory extracting charm, as a bright silver light was being pulled from his head. Delicately, he poured the memory into the flask, feeling his anxiety instantly leave his body.
He put the flask back into his pocket, hoping he would never have to use this memory again.
…
And so, their plan went on.
Malfoy cast a disillusionment charm on himself, so that he would camouflage and blend in with his surroundings. After a couple of minutes, he arrived at the Quidditch pitch. He went past Gryffindor's locker room to the broomstick room, where all brooms from all Gryffindor students, from first to seventh year, were kept.
McLaggen had only recently joined Gryffindor's Quidditch team, but he was overly confident and very much full of himself. On occasion, he'd gloat about how he had the best broom of the team, trying to boost his ego. However, from the matches before Christmas break, Draco knew that Cormac owned a Nimbus 2000, and it was no secret that Potter owned a Firebolt. And whilst both brooms were highly priced, high-quality flying tools, the difference between them was that the Firebolt was unbreakable, whereas the Nimbus 2000 was not.
Still under the disillusionment charm, the blonde snake took McLaggen's broom and, with his extraordinary Veela strength, broke it in half. Draco smirked. This would hurt that moron's pride, and perhaps it would teach him a lesson about being humble.
'It's the little things…' He thought, full of malicious joy.
Once the deed was done, Malfoy took the broken broom and headed towards the lake. In the distance, he spotted Zabini waiting for him. Draco cast a finite incantatem on himself, and thus the disillusionment charm was lifted up. Once the Italian saw him, he signalled for him to hurry up, since it was close to midnight and they soon would have to be back in the Slytherin Dungeons.
A minute later, Draco arrived at Blaise's spot, where he was kneeling down beside McLaggen, his wand pointed at the Gryffindor's head. A fine, iridescent, gassy-looking trail connected the mini-pensieve, Zabini's wand and McLaggen's mind, as the Italian modified Cormac's memory on the recent events.
"Took you long enough." He said, without looking up at Draco, as he inserted the real memory inside a tiny flask made of glass.
"What can I say? Good things take time."
"Touché. However, we need to get back soon." Zabini nonchalantly handed him the flask. "Here, take this."
"Is this the real thing?"
Draco took a good look at the small transparent bottle, as he slightly stirred it. He rubbed his chin with his free hand, thinking about how this memory could come in handy in an extreme situation. Perhaps he could use it as a reminder for McLaggen, if he dared go near his Hermione again. Or, perhaps he could use it as warning for the Weasel. Perhaps he'd keep it to himself until he'd found a better purpose for the memory. Whichever fit his needs best. He'd have think about it.
Zabini's voice interrupted his train of thought.
"As real as it gets, yes. Do not, under any circumstances, lose this flask, cappice? Otherwise, we're fucked."
"How many times do I have to remind you that I'm not that dense? Sweet mother of fuck, Zabini, I'm not Crabbe or Goyle."
"Poor lads can't even have a couple drinks and pass out on the couch in peace without you calling them stupid. Priceless."
"It's their own damn fault they don't pay attention in class."
"Holy fuck, was that Granger talking through you? Is that how the Veela-Mate-Magical-Bond thing works?" The sarcasm in his voice was clear as day, "Or did you just unleash your inner nerd?"
"Fuck you, Zabini."
"Ask me to dinner first, Malfoy. Before you do, though, I think I should tell you that I've already altered most of his memory, and I wanted to ask you… Is there anything you would like for him to remember?"
Darkly, Draco stirred a laugh. Yes, there was something he wanted him to remember. Something, Draco was sure, McLaggen wouldn't dare to forget.
…
In the Room of Requirements, Hermione and Harry had been simply enjoying each other's company for a while. They talked, comparing mundane Muggle things to the Wizarding World, amusing themselves over how funny it was that someone who was a dentist in the Muggle World seemed to be so remotely foreign to witches and wizards. They danced to the room's silence, until they burst out laughing. And then they talked some more.
"Say… Have you talked to Slughorn about the Horcrux situation?"
Harry looked at her, surprised at the topic she chose for conversation. Not particularly merry. – Yet again, both of their evenings hadn't been enjoyable, either.
"Well, I wanted to do it tonight, right after the party. But, you know… Ginny had been crying, and I couldn't let her alone by herself, knowing that she was so sad."
"You're a good friend, Harry."
"I try to be." Harry gave her a sympathetic smile, "I'll try to talk to Slughorn as soon as possible. But, before the dinner party started, I heard him talking to himself. He mumbled something about Felix Felicis."
"Perhaps that's the next potion we'll be brewing in his class."
"That's what I think, too. I was thinking that, after it's brewed, I could drink it and try to talk to him."
Hermione raised a brow at him, trying hard to contain her giggles. At its core, it was a good idea, she had to give him credit for that. Drink liquid luck and get lucky. However, there was an issue with time, and he would know if he had studied for class. – Which he rarely did.
"Oh, Harry. Ever the boy who lived, but the boy who never studied."
"Huh?"
"You're not going to like this, but… Harry, Felix Felicis takes six months to brew."
Harry's emerald green eyes opened wide, and at that, Hermione couldn't hold back any longer. She burst out giggling and laughing at him.
"YOU'RE KIDDING."
"I wish I was." She managed to say in between laughs, "Merlin, the look on your face is priceless!"
Hermione's laughter was contagious, and so Harry ended up laughing with her, enjoying the moment. They kept laughing for some more precious minutes, until calmness slowly settled back in. Even though they had laughed, both understood the severity of the situation. A Wizarding War was on the brink of breaking out, and tragedy would strike. Especially Hermione was preparing herself for the sacrifices that she would be forced to endure. She was mentally preparing herself for the worst-case scenario. The Dark Lord wanted to kill Harry Potter for once and for all, but that aside, the core of this war lay in blood purity. Purebloods were going to massacre Mudbloods, innocent people like her, born from Muggles, who were gifted with magic. That was their crime. Nothing more, nothing less. And so, for as long as she could, she tried to enjoy laughing. She tried to enjoy the little things in life, like Harry's company.
"Well then, I guess you'll have to find a way to talk to him sooner." The brunette said, yawning and stretching her arms "But not today. I'm so glad that today is finally coming to an end. Honestly, I just want to go to bed and sleep this off."
"Cheers."
With that, Harry and Hermione exited the Room of Requirements, ready to head for the Gryffindor Tower.
…
Both Slytherins were back in the castle, standing right before the entrance of the Hospital Wing. Zabini carried McLaggen on his shoulders, holding his lower back for stability, whereas Malfoy carried the remainders of the Nimbus 2000.
Giving him a sign, Blaise silently told Draco to hand over the broken broom. In turn, Blaise managed to give the mini-pensieve to Draco, asking him to put it back to where it was. The blonde nodded and turned to make his leave: Since Malfoy's Veela wings ripped through his jumper, two large, dirty, bloody holes could be seen on the blonde's back. That would most definitely draw unwanted attention to him, and he intended to avoid that at all costs.
And so, the blonde left and quickly headed towards the Slytherin Dungeons, like both men had planned.
…
While waiting for the stairs to turn their way, Hermione noticed something moving from the corner of her eye. Curiosity forced her to look down: It had been like a flash, but the golden girl could have sworn she had seen Malfoy's silhouette running down the hall, abruptly stopping on his tracks and looking up at her, giving her a stern look, and then resuming his running.
'What the hell was that?'
She frowned as she wondered once more if she was imagining things, with honest confusion written over her beautiful face.
Hermione shook her head and went up the stairs. She definitely could not wait until today was over.
…
He needed to step up his pace. He needed to hurry back to the Slytherin Dungeons. He needed to run. – Instead, Draco froze in place, as his Veela senses betrayed him, making him become madly infatuated by her scent.
The woody scent of pages in a book, the sweet aroma of a warm cocoa with cinnamon, the aura of raindrops falling on a field full of orchids.
'Granger.'
As delightful as her fragrance was, the Veela couldn't help but frown, as he looked up and saw her staring back at him from the moving staircase. He wondered what his Hermione was doing so late running around the castle, and felt compelled to go after her. However, his more reasonable side reminded the Veela about his ripped clothing, trying hard to convince his inner beast that this wasn't the time nor the place to check on her, even though he so desperately needed to know if she was truly safe.
Deciding to be harsh on himself so that he would hurry back to the Dungeons, Draco reminded himself of Zabini's words.
"She will find out."
"She'll be either repulsed or scared by you."
"Is that what you want?"
With a mortifying chill running through his spine and a dagger piercing through his heart, Draco ran. He ran from that memory.
…
Okay, so there wasn't little to no Dramione action in this chapter, BUT! I can promise there will be in the next chapter. – You see, this funny little thing happened while I was writing: The chapter was WAAAAAAAAAY too long, so I needed to break it down a little. That being said, the Dramione action is already in the making, but it didn't really make sense to me to write it in this chapter. It would've been too forced, and you know what they say: gooooooooo with the floooooooooow.
Anyway, I hope you liked this chappie! X
Favs, follows and reviews are always very much appreciated! x
Thanks so much for reading guys, YOU ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!
Skyselisse