Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Gee, that's a surprise…
Forever Yours
By Pensive Puddles
Draco slowly opened his eyes. Sighing, he looked down at the lady lying next to him. Her amber hair was messy, locks of it covering her face. So angelic of an expression, he found himself reaching up to caress that face. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He smiled as he recalled the events that had taken place in the past few hours. He smirked. She really was a good kisser. He knew that from past experienced anyway.
..*..
It was close to graduation and N.E.W.T.s were finished. He didn't know whom, but someone had thrown a party, and it was only for the 7th years and dates. He had changed that past school year. His home life changed without his father and his mother taking on more responsibility had helped change his actions and himself. But the people who had changed it the most were Hermione and Harry. Ron stepped in at random times.
So Draco had gone to it, partly to meet his friends, and partly for the free Butterbeer. As he glanced at the doorway, Harry, Ron and his angel stepped into the room. He grinned as he saw his friends smiling at him in greeting. They quickly made their way to each other, sat down again and talked of how they thought they did on their N.E.W.T.s, what the would do this summer, what jobs they wanted to get now that they were out of school, and just had a good time.
Laughing and joking, they paused as music filled they room. Immediately, both Harry and Ron were swept off to the dance floor as two Ravenclaw girls asked for a dance. Hermione and Draco continued to talk, laughing at Harry because of the girls who kept asking to cut in. Everyone wanted to dance with the boy-who-lived, especially since this was his last year at Hogwarts.
It seemed so impossible how they were graduating soon and they would never step back on the grounds of Hogwarts as students. It was a sad thought, actually. Despite all the bad years and times, Draco knew he would miss Hogwarts. It had been a major part of his life, a sanctuary from his father.
Hermione sighed, causing him to glance over at her. He automatically asked, "What?"
"Nothing," she replied.
"Liar," he smirked. She giggled. He knew her so well. "Tell me."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Hermione, you know that I know that something's bothering you."
She didn't reply. She gazed at the people twirling on the dance floor and said, "It's just that I haven't been asked to dance since Krum at the Yule ball, you know, in fourth year?"
She must have noticed him staring at her for she quickly looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks. Not that Draco had any right to stare. Was she telling him she hadn't danced with anyone since 4th year? Who wouldn't want to dance with her? She was gorgeous! This remark caught Draco by surprise and his jaw almost dropped. Did pureblood Draco Malfoy, muggle-born hater, just admit that he thought Mudblood Hermione Granger, was gorgeous? Yes, he did. He shook his head and chuckled mentally. He really had changed.
Standing to his feet, he held out his hand to her. She looked at it and then at him. Blushing, she said in a rush, "I didn't mean for it to sound as if I wanted to be asked. I was just thinking and I didn't mean for it to come out that way. What I mean is that I don't want you to feel obligated to do this."
"Obligated?" he repeated one eyebrow raised. He titled his head to the side and continued, "I'm not asking you because I pity you, Hermione. I'm asking you because I want to. I want every guy out there to be envious of me because I'm dancing with the prettiest girl in this room, in this school, in this world."
He gently took her hand, and brought the dainty thing to his lips where he lightly kissed it. She giggled and stood up, swatting at his arm at that same time. "Oh you little flirt!"
He pulled her out to the dance floor, twirling her around and bringing her close. He could still remember how she relaxed into his arms and how it seemed so perfect, so right. He prayed that Merlin would not let anyone disrupt this dance. Things were looking so good.
"Excuse me?" said a voice. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. Good things never seem to last long, especially for him.
"Yes?" Draco growled obviously annoyed.
"May I cut in?" the red head asked. Draco looked at Hermione and slightly nodded. Handing her over reluctantly, he walked away to let Hermione and Ron dance. Spotting Harry siting at a table, he sat by his friend.
Harry heard Draco's sigh and immediately passed him a Butterbeer. Taking it, Draco said, "Thanks mate."
Harry had grown to be Draco's closest friend at Hogwarts. Draco had found out that Harry was an excellent friend and that he could trust him with his life. He had wished he hadn't been such a snob when he was younger. Maybe then he had Harry could have been friends all through school, share the same friendship that Harry shared with Ron and Hermione. They only called each other mate's when Ron wasn't in hearing range. Although Ron had admitted that Draco had changed, Ron's 'Wealsey's Pride' would not let him put past experiences behind him.
Draco heard Harry reply, "Your welcome," but he was too busy gazing at Hermione to respond or make conversation. She was laughing, happiness shinning from her face as she danced and talked with Ron. He couldn't help but wonder, was she like that when he danced with her?
Harry, who must have been wondering what he was staring at so intensely, followed his gaze. As if reading his thoughts, Harry said, "She was happier with you, mate."
"Was she really?" Draco asked curiously. He relaxed with a grin as Harry nodded. A happy feeling filled him and he felt as if he was floating.
"You should dance with her again," Harry continued.
"Speaking of dancing, Mr. Prince Charming himself, why aren't you being tackled by the ladies?"
"A spell. That's right, a spell," Harry added as he noticed Draco's curious look. Pointing his Butterbeer bottle, he ordered, "Look at your 2 o'clock."
Doing as he was told, Draco's eyes widened as he saw Harry dancing with Jamie Jefferson, a Hufflepuff girl. They seemed to be dancing and having a small conversation at the same time. But how was that possible? Wasn't Harry sitting right next to him?
"I can be two places at once, but only one of me can be seen. " Harry explained.
"So how come I can see you?"
"I can only let one person see my other half, and that's if I want them to. Watch," he ordered. Draco stared at Harry and then he was gone. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, but there was no trace of Harry except an empty chair. Suddenly, Harry appeared out of thin air, causing Draco to spill Butterbeer down his front.
"Holy…! Where'd you go?" Draco asked as he tried to wipe the drink off of his clothes.
"Sorry about that," Harry apologized. Flicking his wand and muttering a couple words, Draco was clean and dry again. "There was no way I could warn you."
"That is really awesome Harry," Draco told him. His eyebrows then bunched up with curiosity," Then, does it make it look as if I'm off my rocker when I'm talking to you? Because you know, only I can see you."
"That's the other part of the spell. It splits you up as well. But when you want to leave, you are put back together again."
"Did you find this out of a Dark Arts book?"
Harry shook his head and told him, "I made it myself."
Draco sat back laughing and shaking his head in disbelief, "You truly are amazing Harry. You'll make an excellent Auror. There's no denying that!"
He laughed against as Harry blushed. They both drank from their bottles. Draco's mind drifted back to the spell Harry had made and he suddenly asked, "What if one of you is hurt, killed for example. What happens to the other one?"
"Well, I haven't exactly gone that far in testing. But I guess since half of me is in one of them, then if one is killed, then I guess there will only be one half of me for the rest of my life," Harry replied.
"Do you know what you are doing with your other self?"
"Yes."
"Then how are you able to carry a conversation without mixing it up with your other's conversation?"
"I don't know. It's weird. You see, my other half feels as if we already had this discussion, and I already feel as if I've talked to Jamie and danced with her. Do you understand?"
"Not really, but forget that I asked you that question."
"Go ask Hermione for a dance," Harry suddenly encouraged suddenly.
"What if she doesn't want to?"
"Oh, she does. Believe me," Harry gave a mysterious smile, got up and stretched. "Besides, Jamie stopped dancing with me so I can put myself together again. The only problem with this spell is that it drains you out."
"Goodbye mate."
"Same here." Draco watched as Harry slipped through the people unnoticed and stepped into himself. Harry shook his head as if clearing it, and then looked up and waved at Draco to go ask Hermione for a dance. He nodded.
Weaving himself through the crowds, he walked up behind Hermione and touched her waist. She gasped and turned around, looking up at him with surprised amusement. "Oh, Draco. You startled me!"
"May I have another dance?" He asked. She gave him a warm smile, let him clasp her hand in his and walk her to the dance floor for a second time.
Right when they put their arms around each other, the music changed to a sad, slow song. Draco pulled Hermione closer; she didn't protest. He felt her rest her head against his chest and he rested his head against hers. It was so perfect; nothing was going to interrupt it this time. He let his grip loosen slightly, and then he casually let his hands fall until they were half way on her bottom. He smirked, as she froze and then instantly relaxed again.
It felt so wonderful, being in each other's arms that they didn't want to part as the slow song ended and a fast one started up. Hermione motioned him to follow her and he did so. She had led them to the punch bowl. He could still remember what they had said to each other. Every single word still rang clear into his head even now. During their conversation, someone had stepped in, offering shots of firewhisky.
The small drinks turned into competitions and it ended when one of the boys went to go look
for some more bottles of alcohol. They had decided to go for a little stroll and had left, only to return in search for their jackets from the cool breeze outside. Laughing hysterically, they walked back to the school's entrance, holding onto each other for support.
He didn't know why, but they had stopped laughing and had just looked at each other. Draco had lowered his head, his eyes slowly closing as he came closer. He paused before her lips, waiting to see if she'd pull away. As she did nothing, he kissed her. She was so different from all the girls he had kissed. She seemed so pure and innocent, and he felt both guilty and privileged. Hermione was everything he'd though she'd be: sweet.
The power that seemed to demand took over, causing him to push slightly harder and he waited for her to retreat. And to his delightful surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing hard in response. Passion broke forth there and they feverishly kissed each other, Draco's strength pushing her back until her she stopped by a tree. Pinned against the tree and no were else to go, he hungrily kissed her neck and face, rubbing his hands up and down her sides, down her hips and over her butt.
She moaned his name and he knew right then and there that he would do anything to hear her moan his name again. He pulled her hair to the side, revealing her neck and he lightly nibbled, receiving another moan. She was driving him crazy! With one hand tangled in his blond hair and the other hand digging into his shoulder, she pulled him close and whispered in his ear, "I love you."
He pulled away, looking at her in disbelief. Was it the achohol that made her say this or did she really feel this way? The look in her eyes wasn't lust; it seemed to be pure love. She loved him. It seemed too good to be true. And he knew that he loved her too. All the weird feelings that he had felt whenever she was close, whenever he looked into her eyes, was love. Love. It was so simple. That was the answer to what had caused him to feel jealous whenever she was close to another guy, why he felt warmth flooding through him whenever she touched him, why it explained a lot of things. At first, he had thought he was just horny, and that he had had his choice of everyone at the school except Granger, which was why he was severely attracted to her. But he couldn't say that now because he loved her.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to proclaim his love to her, a loud shrieking sound filled the air. His mind told him to protect her and so he knocked her to the ground, covering her small petite figure with his body. Fear for her life filled him, and he forgot the close contact he was with her. All that mattered to him was her safety. As he heard laughter and applause far off, he looked up to see the fireworks lighting up the black sky. He jumped off the ground, looking to see if anyone saw them.
When he turned around to say something to her, he saw nothing there. She was still lying on the ground. Helping her up, he led her to school. They were laughing again when she suddenly stopped, a hand touching her chest. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said in a tight voice.
"What, was this kiss really that bad?" he teased. He watched her. Something wasn't right.
"No. I think I'm going to through up!" she quickly said in a gasp, a hand covering her mouth. His eyes widened, and half pulling her, half carrying her, he got her into one of the bathroom stalls and let her have her peace with the toilet bowl.
When she was done, she stood up and grinned, "Thank you."
Her eyes closed and she fell, only to land in his arms. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing but lifted her up and sat her on the sink. Taking a paper towel, he wiped the vomit off her face.
She groaned, "I feel horrible."
"Well you would if you had as many shots of firewhisky as you did!" he chuckled. Her eyes had already closed again and he sighed. She was pretty, even when her face was pale and she looked worn out.
"You know, I could grow old with you. Even when you were old and wrinkly, and all your physical beauty was lost even though you'd still be beautiful in my eyes, I would still love you," he whispered. "I wish I could grow old with you. There's no one else I'd prefer."
Kissing her eyelids, he picked her up with his arms and carried her to her bed, glad that they were both Head's together. Setting her on her bed, he quickly performed a spell to change her clothes. Although no one would have known if he had looked, he refrained from doing so. Somehow, he felt as if he was taking advantage of her if he had watched her undress, no matter how much he wanted to see her without any clothes on. What could he say? He was like any 18-year-old teenage male.
"I love you," he whispered as he kissed her forehead. With that, he left, closing the door behind him.
He had stayed up a couple more hours after he had left her. The memory of her kiss had preoccupied his mind. He tormented himself later, wondering what could have happened if the fireworks had not gone off; a thought he had constantly turned to even after graduation.
..*..
He sighed. He wished the past could become the present, but he knew that was impossible, as was the wish he had made in the bathroom. It was plain and simple: life sucked. He had tried to forget her. Merlin knows he did. But every time he went on a date, it always was a girl who had brown hair and brown eyes, always an image of Hermione with small mistakes. How he wished he could have gotten over her, but he heart refused to do so.
Getting off the couch, he stood up and straightened his clothes. He had never spent the night with her before. Next time, he vowed, he'd be there when she awoke. Something in the back of his mind told him there wouldn't be a next time. The meaning of the thought perplexed him, but he shrugged it off. He turned his eyes back to Hermione. She shivered slightly and he immediately "accio" a blanket. Tucking her in comfortably and snugly, he knelt down and took one of her soft, delicate hands. Taking the ring off of his finger, he placed the silver band on her ring finger. Kissing her fingers, he placed her hand back under the blanket. She sighed.
A small warm smile covered his face and he quickly kissed the side of her lips and whispered, "I love you, Hermione. Never forget that."
Imagine his shock when she replied, "I love you, Draco."
Draco was flabbergasted for a couple seconds. Was she awake? He waved his hand in front of her face: no reaction. He whispered her name, still no reaction. Did she wake up and then fall back to sleep? Or had she just talked in her sleep? Either way, she said she loved him. He smirked and silently made his way out of her door.
Stepping out into the dawn's weather, he made sure her house was locked before he walked down the small path he had walked on so many times before. He took one last look at her small little house and the sudden image of children playing in the yard and an older couple watching them popped into his head.
"If only this world would allow us…"he whispered. He pulled his rob closer to his body as a breeze blew by and started walking down the sidewalk. As he walked, he thought of her, as he usually did. He couldn't wait to see her again, and the thought that told him he wouldn't nagged at him again. He pushed it away again. Why did it keep coming back? With every step that took him farther from the house of his love, the more urgent the feeling became. He should go back, forget work. Call in sick, and just stay by her side, don't ever let her go.
He ignored it. He had had these feelings before. In the past few nighttime visits, the feeling would come over him, but less urgent. But today, it was stronger than usually. And like all the other times, he pushed it aside.
His thoughts traveled to his sleeping love. He wished she could have been his, but she was too good for him. He would never want to bring her down. Near the breaking point of the war, the Light and Dark side were made known. It wasn't hard for Draco to pick which side he wanted to be on. He loved Hermione, and there was no way he would go against her. That was the worst thing he could do, have to kill her or Harry or Ron. Dumbledore had requested a spy because Snape couldn't be everywhere. So he had volunteered and it was a perfect plan.
Draco's father had been given the dementor's kiss the second time he was chucked into Azkaban and had had proof of his activities with the Dark Lord. So it would only be natural for Draco to join the Dark side and avenge his father. He was a Malfoy; most of the Malfoy's had become Death Eaters during Voldermorte's time. Draco was the perfect material for a spy.
He didn't just do it for the Light side; he did it for Hermione too. He could not stand by and watch his Hermione die without trying to help prevent it. He could still remember how upset she had been when it was announced he would be their spy. "Why, Draco?" she had demanded, angry tears shinning in her eyes. "Why does it have to be you?"
"I'm the best, you know that," he had told her.
"It's too dangerous," she had said automatically.
"Everything's dangerous now. And I'd rather it be more dangerous for me then be dangerous for everyone else."
"But what if you get caught?" He knew she was worried. He could always tell by the way that she started to crack her fingers and mess with the bottom of her shirt.
"Then I'll get caught. It's the way war goes, Hermione. You should know that."
"I…I don't want you to die," she whispered, tears already trailing down her cheeks. He had stepped closer to her, wiping the hot salt drops away with his thumb.
"I don't want you or anyone else I care about die either," he replied in a low voice. He pulled her in a hug and she let her tears flow freely down. He was her comforter and she knew she was safe. That day she had reluctantly let him be lead away by Professor Snape to were the Death Eaters were gathering for the acceptance of a new member.
Draco grimaced at the memory of getting the Dark Mark. It had hurt. It was like a hot knife being twisted around in his arm. He could still remember how sensitive his arm had been after he had gotten it. He could still remember how it would sting like peroxide poured on an open cut whenever the Dark Lord called them. He could still remember how Hermione's eyes would dim whenever she saw a small piece of it show from under his sleeves.
People still talked, even after the war. He was still a Malfoy and although the money and wealth was still there, as was the title, the threat and respect wasn't. Besides the chosen people in the Order, people didn't know he was a warrior of the Light side. As the saying goes, like father, like son, so did everyone's view on Draco went. He was Lucius' son. Draco had to be like his father, it was impossible that he couldn't be like him.
So how could he bring Hermione down? The gossip of a Mudblood and a Pureblood marrying, not that it hadn't happened before, but it was a Malfoy who was marrying a muggle-born. It would be another end to one of the lines of a pure-blood family. She would have become a Malfoy, hated by pure-bloods because she would have dirtied the line.
The pressure that would have been put on her…He wasn't stupid. He had heard the hopes of Hermione Granger marrying either one of her best friends, Ron Weasley or Harry Potter, most going for the latter. What couldn't be a happier story? Best friends marrying each other, having gone through so many adventures together. What kind of story would theirs be? Two people in different houses, who absolutely despised each other, calling each other names and wishing the other was dead, all the sudden marrying?
Very unlikely, Draco thought while shaking his head. Stupid society, stupid world, stupid different blood! He hated it all! He let out a low growl of frustration.
The hairs on his back raised. Someone was following. He kept on walking at a steady pace, no sign showing he knew of the others presence. The training he had took for the War took over. He listened carefully, imagining the stalker. By the amount of footsteps being taken at the same time, he had to say there was three, no, four men. They were spreading out, two in the back and one on either side. With a quick, graceful movement, Draco grabbed his wand that had been kept in the sleeve of his robe and fired spells at the enemy.
One was knocked down and never got back up by Draco's surprise attack. Spells flew back and fourth but being outnumbered, Draco soon found himself surrounded, wands pointing all around at him. There was no way Draco would surrender without a good fight.
"Stay still, Draco," ordered a voice under a black hood," and we won't hurt you…yet."
Chuckles rippled through the men. Draco scowled. He felt his wand behind pulled out of his hand and he quickly turned his head but stopped as the tip of a wand pressed sharply under his chin.
"Give up, or your Mudblood bitch dies," he said. Instantly Draco relaxed. There was no way he would get Hermione mixed up in this.
The man gave a disgusted snort, "I knew that would get your attention. Now touch the port key."
Draco touched the can reluctantly. He never let his gaze falter from the man's hidden face. He wasn't going to break. The sudden feeling of being jerked by a long hook behind his naval told Draco that the port key was activating and he landed hard on the ground. Getting up without using his hands since they were now tied, he glanced around to take in his surroundings before returning his stare to the leader. They were in a cemetery. Instantly, the story that Harry had spoken of Voldermorte being brought back to life in a cemetert filled his mind. But there was no way. Voldermorte was dead, right? Draco felt a stab of fear pierce though him. He made sure no one noticed. It was one thing he had learned though his childhood and war: never let anyone know what you are feeling, be emotionless. However, he did screw that one up with Hermione. If it was one thing he didn't like about that girl, it was how she sometimes made him loose his self-control. Whenever her life was involved, it messed him up.
"I have to say, Draco, you haven't lost your touch," remarked the man," You really were the perfect spy."
He took off his hood and Draco looked at Greg Whitman. He had been a year ahead of Draco during school and was in his house.
"What do you want?" Draco asked. He knew what was going to happen. It was a gut feeling and despite how he used to fear death when he was younger, he was ready for it this time.
"It should be obvious," Greg replied, looking at his finger nails as if inspecting for dirt. He looked so ignorant and snobbish. Draco wished he could wring off his neck.
"What I can't understand, is how you became a spy against the Dark Lord. He had great interest in you and you were the most powerful out of all the Death Eaters. You could have been his right hand man."
"Yeah, like that was my dream goal," Draco rolled his eyes and muttered.
Greg walked over to him, his hand squeezing the spy's neck. He growled, "Every Death Eater wanted to be you, Draco. We wanted to have the power the Dark Lord would offer to us. But you…you didn't even care. As I remember, you were very keen on the idea of power."
"But you see Greg, that was during school and I changed," Draco spoke as if speaking to a three year old.
"Yes," Greg's eyes narrowed in slightly at being insulted. "You did change. You started hanging around with Potter, Weasley, and Granger."
Greg let go of Draco's throat and Draco breathed in slowly, silently thanking Merlin for air. Greg turned around, staring at the other man curiously. "You used to hate everything about the Dark Lord's enemy, and yet you became friends with him," he said," How could you degrade yourself?"
"I found out who was right. The Dark Lord was just a Mudblood who had been exaggerated and knew some wand tricks. He was nothing. He had no power. Only those who want justice and freedom for everyone, the ones who want everyone to have a chance at happiness had power. Those who keep power all to themselves for their own selfish purposes have no power nor strength," said Draco. His gaze never faltered. "And as for degrading myself, I did no such thing. Death Eaters are lower than the low. They're like animals and they are stupid. They think they'll get power. But it's never true. Voldermorte never shares his power. He always was a selfish basted."
"Crucio!" Greg screamed. Draco fell to the ground, his body quivering. The pain suddenly stopped and Draco got back up to his knees, his breaths deep and rapid. "How dare you disrespect the Dark Lord's name! How dare you!"
Greg lowered his arm, gathering his composure again. Draco smirked. He found it humorous how the Death Eaters were so serious about their Master.
"The Dark Lord knew you were a spy. He was testing you, wondering if you would turn towards power like your father. He knew you were a spy all along." Greg told him. Draco wondered if Greg was trying to defend his Lord, because he knew the things Draco had said earlier were true.
"Well that just makes him both wrong and stupid," Draco smirked. He fell to the ground again, pain shaking his body but he would not scream. Never would he give the enemy that satisfaction. Just when he thought he would pass out from the pain, it suddenly ceased and the after affects hurt almost as bad as the spell itself. He got back up to his knees and coughed. Blood coming up and out of his mouth. He sat back on his heels and glared at Greg, his eyes still hard and cold. He seriously had to learn how to control his tongue.
"I hate to do this. You were powerful, Draco. You could have been the next Dark Lord. That's why it is sad that you must be disposed of…" Greg looked down at Draco with mock pity. "But traitor's never live long."
Greg lifted the wand and muttered a spell. Draco's arms and legs grew heavy to the point where he couldn't hold them up. He couldn't move. The two Death Eaters who had guarded him moved out of range of the spell. "Any last words?"
"Not to you," Draco said and the two men standing to the side lightly sniggered quietly. "But the one that I would like to speak to is not here. She already knows I love her."
Greg gave a disgusted frown and said sarcastically, "I'm sure your slut would find that touching."
"At least my slut can be more trustworthy than yours," Draco hissed, an odd gleam in his eye. Greg pressed his lips together tightly. Greg had married Pansy right when she got out of school. Pansy was nothing less than pretty. She had grown out of her pudgy face and had grown into a slim, seductive woman who got whatever she wished by using her sexuality. There was only one man who could not and would not fall unto seductiveness, and that was Draco. This would probably explain why she kept trying to get him to like her, sitting next to him while wearing short skirts that when she crossed her legs, she gave him a preview at what he could have if he asked.
Pansy was a girl who went only for those with a high status and a lot of money. Draco had been on the top of her list but he had gone for other girls, ignoring her completely. Some had said he had given in to her one night and he was so good that she kept following him. Either way, Pansy would do anything for Draco's attention. So, when Greg, one of the many men who loved, or thought he loved Pansy asked for her hand in marriage, she had accepted in hope that Draco would get jealous and demand that she break up with him, which she would most likely do. Now that Pansy was married, she was a drunk and had many little "parties" when her husband was away on Death Eater missions. In simple words, neither Greg nor Pansy was a happy person.
Greg bellowed, "Crucio!"
When it was over, Draco was trembling, blood dripping from mouth and nose. He felt so weak but his eyes still stayed strong. A smirk forming on his pale face, he remarked, "Know how to keep your cool, don't you, Greg?"
"Shut up," hissed Greg. He was too angry to do anything. Draco could have sworn he saw smoke coming out from his ears. "I was thinking of giving you a quick death, but even sending you to hell would be doing you a favor!"
Draco watched with amusement as Greg took his index fingers and massaged his temples. Greg shook his arms and then pointed his wand at Draco again. He was amazed at how although Draco was hurt, bleeding and almost on the edge of passing out, his blue eyes were still strong and cold as if he hadn't been affected by anything, like nothing could defeat him. "I admit that I do admire your courage against death, Draco. You should have been in Gryfinndor."
"Life would have been better if I had been," replied Draco. He nodded his head, "Farewell, Greg."
"Farewell, Draco." Greg wondered what Draco was thinking as he cleared his throat to utter two words. He was dumbfounded at the younger man's fearlessness. Even when he was face to face with Voldermorte, he did not fear him. Yes, Draco should have been put in Gryfinndor.
He watched with admiration as Draco watched the wand summon up the power to send him to his death, just like the wand had done hundreds of times before. He wondered what he himself would have done if he were in Draco's position. A Death Eater doesn't usually think of such things, but Greg was different and he knew Draco more than the other's he had killed. He watched as the green light exploded from the tip of his wand and flew forward into the younger man's chest. And yet Draco's face did not change even as he fell face down into the wet grass.
You would have made an excellent Dark Lord, Draco, thought Greg. Turning to the other Death Eaters, he ordered in a gruff voice, "Come Goyle, Crabbe. The Ministry would have tracked the curse by now."
Goyle and Crabbe gave a last quick glance at their childhood comrade before following Greg. With that, three loud cracks were heard near the body of Draco Malfoy. The breeze blew quietly, the branches of the trees swayed sorrowfully. Another soul had been lost that day.
..*..
Later that day, a woman who walked around with a smile on her face, set out two mugs on the counter. She couldn't wait to see him. She had been looking forward to this all day. Humming to herself, she set the kettle on the stove and proceeded to heat up the water. She sat two bags of powdered hot chocolate next to the mugs before going to the living room to start a fire.
As she got it going to a healthy glow, she heard the doorbell ring. Thinking it was him, she ran to the door and threw open the door with a smile on her face which soon disappeared. Another man stood in the doorway, a sorrowful expression on his face.
"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked concerned. Harry spoke the words quietly, but they destroyed her world, shattering it to a million pieces. The woman covered her mouth in disbelief, tears flooding her eyes. As her legs gave out from underneath her, Harry caught her.
The woman was wrapped in the man's comforting arms and she didn't protest. She felt as if she just lost a part of herself, so much pain and emptiness consuming her soul. Burying her face in Harry's chest, she let out muffled screams in agonizing sorrow, releasing the pain inside of her.
Sobbing uncontrollably, she listened painfully as Harry explained through a tight voice what had happened, tears of his own rolling down his face. Together, the two friends held onto each other, one comforting both of them. The stars had come out and Hermione invited Harry in for a drink. She quietly looked at the green mug Draco used to drink out of whenever he came over. She saw little images of her Draco smiling, laughing, teasing and just relaxing peacefully with her. She remembered his kisses and words, all those memories from a simple green mug. He had always liked that green mug, always choosing that one from the others. It wouldn't be right to let someone else drink of it without his permission. Tears falling anew, she replaced Draco's mug with a different one and grievously closed the cabinet door.
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A/N: I would like to thank ALL of you who reviewed! Thank you so much, I really was touched by it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Now in case your wondering why Draco didn't use the spell that Harry came up with, it'll be explained in the next and hopefully last chapter. That's right, there's another chapter coming up, which means you should stay posted!
Now if you reviewed last time, you know what to do. Go and review! I would really, really, really like you to review and when I mean I would really, really, REALLY like for you to review, I mean I REALLY WANT YOU TO REVIEW…please? *puppy dog eyes*
Hey, maybe that accio review will work again!
1…2…3…accio review! *nothing happens…again*
*sighs and shrugs* oh well, it was worth trying, right? I guess I'll just have to settle with wishing again. I wish, I wish, I wish…_