DISCLAIMER: If I owned this, I would be in my Jaguar, scaring the cops and … Well, I don't own it, okay? Good!
***
Hermione watched as the rain beat against the windows. Usually she would be studying hard, nose tracing words as they ran across a page, but today was different. Today, she was thinking. The rain matched her mood, a miserable feeling that ruined her ability to study. She turned to watch Ron and Harry playing snap. They laid the cards down slowly, missing opportunities to snap the cards, as lost in thought and memories as the rest of Hogwarts.
She sighed heavily. Four more students lost to Voldemort. Neville, killed while visiting his parents, survived by his grandmother and uncle. Pansy, defecting to Voldemort, following in her parents' footsteps. Padma Patil, disappearing without a trace, only Parvati left of the whole family. And Fleur Delacour, believed dead.
"Fleur…" Hermione thought, remembering the odd friendship struck up between them when the part-Veela student had exchanged to Hogwarts in the middle of Semester. Placed in Hufflepuff, she and Hermione had met in the library while looking for the same book. From then onwards, she became a part of the gang, much to Ron's horror and delight, sharing in the mysteries and danger during the last six months. Now she was missing, gone without a trace.
Trying to focus on the windowsill to hold back the tears, she didn't see Ginny come up behind her, nearly jumping out of her skin when she was enfolded in a caring hug. Ginny, now in the fifth year, was Harry's girl. She'd worked hard to get his attention, finally having it pay off when the Halloween Masked Ball arrived and he'd asked her to go steady. Since then, they were always together. Another addition to the gang.
"It's okay, Hermione." Ginny's soft voice was pitched so only she and Hermoine could hear. "I know you miss them. So do I." Ginny's voice was laden with unshed tears and Hermione smiled weakly. She hadn't spoken since the news of Neville's death and Fleur's disappearance. She and Neville had been close, not as close as she and Harry and Ron, but close all the same. And Fleur …
***
Draco's thoughts wandered again. It was dark outside, dark inside, and darker inside his soul. His usually light hair was also dark, plastered to his head as the rain poured down, soaking his robes through. He didn't really notice the cold anymore; he was beyond that. He could feel the fury welling up inside again, but knew that he would just let it go when the time came. He couldn't be angry with her. He'd known how shallow she was, had chosen her for that very reason. It was he being played this time, that was all. It had been his choice after all.
The rain beat harder on his skin, stinging when it hit. The robes offered little protection. They never had.
He enjoyed this place, at the top of the Astronomy tower. It was quiet and hard to reach, the perfect place to lose his clumsy goons. Not that they were there to lose anymore. When he had betrayed Voldemort, his father withdrew his protection. Crabbe and Goyle no longer graced the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
A slight smile played across Draco's pale face, bitter for all the memories of his life. His mother's death had paid a heavy toll on the young man, his skin ashen, pallid, and unhealthy. Painful wounds healed over to create puckered scars that ran across his palms, down his arms, over shoulders, joining at a V-shape on his back.
No longer a child, not yet a man, yet living through a pain that would scar him for life. Both inside and out. Pansy's betrayal, his mother's death, Snape's disappearance. Voldemort's rise to power, taking over the Ministry from within, marked the Wizarding world. It would not be long before the Muggles would notice, before the last pockets of resistance fell. Before the end.
A shiver ran down his scarred spine, it was not a night to think of such things. All he could do was plod along as well as he could, help where it was needed and be there for Harry when the time came. For now, it would be enough to get inside and out of the rain.
Shaking his head free of thought, Draco Malfoy climbed down from his perch, swinging on the ledge to land safely in the tower. Looking up, he studied the picture on the wall opposite him. Professor Trelawny's last prediction before the Killing Curse claimed her life. Voldemort's words echoed in his head …
***
"Her predictions are far too dangerous a tool for their side to allow her to live. I want her dead…" Softly spoken, yet with a power so great as to make the circle of followers shiver with fear. Draco, garbed in the black cloak of a Deatheater, shuddered in fear. Fear of his father, fear of Voldemort, fear of the powers fighting for control of the world. He'd made his decision, the best that he could. Never again would he watch as a child was cut down before him, stripped of her life before it began. Angry at his cowardice, he clenched his fingers, creating fists beneath the long cloak. Tonight he would begin to repay the world for his ignorance. Tonight he would save a life …
***
His first meeting as a spy for Dumbledore turned out to be his last. Fleeing with the news of the impending death to the Headmaster, he was caught. Voldemort did not suffer traitors kindly.
Too late his escape. Too late his recovery. His mother, murdered by his father as an act of loyalty, his Divination teacher, murdered by Argus Filch. At least Filch had been caught. But his father …
***
A/N: Okay … I've finished this chappie and it took AGES! So please, show your gratitude by ……. Reviewing …
I hate to beg … but … well …Ahhhh … don't worry about it!
If you want to review me, then do. If not, don't worry about it; I know how hard it is to say the right thing after reading something. It's damn hard to give feedback, but without it, you never know whether you're doing the right thing or not. So, if you feel the need, do so.
Any suggestions will be welcomed, and I don't have a beta reader as yet, so if anyone … well … you know where to find me …
Yours Faithfully,
~LIBERTY
PS … Thanks to all you kind people who have reviewed (namely … the ONE person who reviewed).
Really, people like you make writing well worth the effort.