Empty Was My Soul: Chapter3
Draco woke up surrounded by stuffed animals, books and lace. He turned over onto his belly to survey the room more precisely, twisting the bed sheets covering him in between his legs. It was a dim lit room; there were cracks of sunlight peering through the heavy pinkish curtains. A girl owned the room, Draco knew, and the bed was half the size of his own, but then again, most beds were. He yawned and turned to the fluffy soft pillow, grabbing it and commencing to drift into sleep again. What did he care about whose room it was anyway? As long as he got some sleep, his body was killing him.
Hermione stood in the doorway, surveying Draco as he drifted back into sleep. How the little git had found her house, much less know it was her she didn't know, but the sooner he was out, the better. Her parents were quite excited over the fact that a " little wizard friend " had suddenly " dropped by " to visit. She was anything but excited. She had sent an owl to Ron and Harry explaining how their worst enemy (sans. Voldemort) had decided to drop himself on her doorstep. Ron had told her to draw obscene words and gestures in permanent ink all over his body, which she had been wary to do because of Draco's infamously bad temper. Harry had suggested waiting for him to wake up, then to boot him out, but she couldn't really do that either. Her parents were in love with her nemesis, saying how he was adorable, and how he must have been lost. Lost her ass. He'd probably just stopped by to harass her.
But then, she had to keep pondering.. Her parents, being dentists (they still had to pass a basic medical training), told her that he had gone unconscious due to exhaustion. So if that was true, why was he wandering around in the middle of the night, completely dead beat.
"Little bastard" she growled almost affectionately, "You pissed someone off, didn't you? You were running from some one...weren't you? Just how incorrigible can you get?"
She paced into her room, holding a cold compress in her hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She set them down and opened her curtains. It was a beautiful day out. She glanced down at her bed's occupant, the sole reason why she had been forced to sleep on the couch last night. Funny as it might sound, the towheaded boy looked angelic when he was sleeping. She almost blushed watching him, his chest rising and falling softly and one of his hands over his head, absently tangled in wisps of his silver-blond hair. He was attractive when he wasn't wearing his habitual sneer. At that very moment, Hermione realized that he looked just like an ordinary child, a vulnerable, scared boy, hiding under a pile of blankets and promises that would never be fulfilled. She almost cried at the poignancy of the moment. The angel faced boy raised to be a devil.
She reached out to touch him, to see if he was real. As her fingers began to graze his skin she felt like perhaps, just perhaps she had been wrong about him, and that maybe, just maybe, she would let him stay at her house a while longer. She liked his hair. It felt like water running softly against her hands, just not getting them wet. It was when she had the most adoring face on, symbolic of Madonna and child, when Draco opened his eyes. She froze, her hand still entwined in his hair, her eyes wide.
Draco gazed back at her. His eyes hovered over her with bland emotion before almost shutting again. Then they bulged back open as he finally realized where he was. He paled, then flushed, then flew up in a heartbeat, letting out a high-pitched shriek.
"My god!! Granger?!?!" he screeched.
"Good morning, Draco." She replied sarcastically.
"No!!" he wailed, "This-This has to be a dream, a-a nightmare!!! Why am I in the Mudblood's house?!"
"I don't know, why don't you tell me!!!" she spat angrily. He had no right to call her a Mudblood in her own house.
Draco sneered.
"Oh, you think I want to be here, you filthy excuse of a witch, surrounded by you Muggle relatives?!"
"Then GET OUT!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, and instinctively reached for her coffee cup. In less than a split second, hot coffee splattered all over her stuffed animals and the hard, stone bottom of the mug came crashing down on Draco's skull. It made a sickening cracking noise before shattering and covering her bed with little pieces of ceramic. She gasped. Draco sat with a surprised expression on his face as blood from his bitten through lip gushed from his mouth, and his slashed scalp spattered her pink and white sheets red.
"Hermione? I-I didn't mean it..I'm s-sorry.." he feebly croaked, then buckled over in pain, falling unconscious a second time.
"Hermione, dear, is everything all right?" came her mother's voice from outside the room.
"Hermione?"
"Hermione?"
Silence.
"Hermione?!?!"
Silence was followed by screams of panic and the running of feet. At 8:00 a.m. the Grangers carried Draco's body down the stairs and laid him across the couch. Blood stained the carpet in a trail from her room to the kitchen and into the living room. Orders were shouted, panicked movements pulled paper over the bloodstains and pressed cold compresses against Draco's ever swelling would. Dr. Granger dialed 911 while her husband started up the car in case it be needed. Hermione sat guilt stricken, pressing wet towels against Draco's skin, trying to clean him off.
She felt so stupid. She had almost killed someone over a few simple insults. She was as bad as Lord Voldemort. She hung her head in shame. Draco hadn't even meant it.
"Hermione? Hermione?!" her mothers voice broke her thoughts. She turned to face her.
"We're going to take your friend to the hospital now, do you want to come?"
She nodded weakly. Her mother's brow crinkled in worry.
"Hermione, dear, why did you do this?"
She began to cry, sobbing loudly.
"I'm-I'm no better than Lord Voldemort!!!" she wailed.
Her mother was joined by her father who stood fidgeting in panic at having a visitor get his skull cracked open, and in his daughters state of mind.
"Honey, help us carry him okay? We have to take him to the hospital now, ok?" Mrs. Granger pleaded.
"That won't be necessary." Came an icy voice from the doorway.
The Grangers turned and came face to face with an exceptionally angry Lucius Malfoy. His eyes flickered from the bloody carpet, to the teary eyed Hermione, to his own son, who lay deathly still, covered in red stained towels. His heart began to beat extraordinarily fast in terror and concern. In two bound's he was at his son's side. It was bad, very bad. He hoisted his son into his arms and began to carry him out the door.
"S-Sir!! He-He has to go to the hospital-" began Dr. Granger.
Mr. Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Be glad you aren't dead!!" he hissed, "Consider it a large mercy from my family to yours."
On the way to the Manor, Lucius' heart pounded in his chest as he fought the urge to turn around and kill the stupid Muggle's for hurting his one and only son. He had contacted one of the finest doctors via. Telepathy, a skill that was illegal but he didn't care. Very few could do it anyway. He reached the Manor the same time the doctor did and together they put Draco into a stable condition.
That morning, when Lucius had gone out, worriedly looking for their son, Mr. Sinclair had come to call on Narcissa. He dodged the servants and burst open the door to her room. She had been surprised of course, but not without gratitude, Mr. Malfoy had not allowed her to come and she needed support and sympathy. Her son had just run away from home and Lucius hadn't slept all night, sick with worry. She hadn't either, for that matter.
Mr. Sinclair offered her flowers, kind words and passionate kisses. She was still smitten over this seemingly kind man. After a while he coaxed her to take off her clothes. She complied. She always complied.
"But what about Lucius?" she had moaned as Arthur buried his head in her chest.
"Forget about him." He replied, as he ran his tongue along her milky smooth skin, "He'll be out all day looking for your bloody son."
She didn't like his attitude all of a sudden, but dismissed it as a fluke. And so they had proceeded to make love all morning long. Neither of them heard in the heat of passion, Lucius Malfoy dashing up the stairs to relive his wife's worries for their lost son, or the door being opened, and neither of them saw Lucius freeze at the doorway in absolute horror, the grief. They didn't hear him close the door again and a servant who was passing by thought it odd that the Master was leaning against his wife's room's door, a single tear rolling down the side of his cheek.
hmmm....it's taking a different turn, but tell me if ya' like!! It's gonna get alot better after this!! I PROMISE!!!
Until next Chapter, Yari