Chapter Two
The four former Hogwarts students sat quietly in the train compartment. It had been so long since they had seen one another, yet refused to speak. No one wanted to discuss her death. Ron blamed Harry for what had happened. Harry blamed himself as well.
Finally Hermione dared to speak. "So Malfoy, how're things going in your life?"
Draco looked askance. "Why do you care, Granger? Trying to be the goody two shoes and bring us all back together? Well, mudblood, we're out of school now. It's not like the good old days."
She sighed. "I guess that's a 'not too well.'" The room once again fell silent.
Harry looked out the window, not wanting to speak to any of them. He held himself responsible for a young girl's death, as did at least one other person on the train. He could still hear her scream as the spell struck her chest, hurling her on the solid ground. That, he knew, was what killed the unborn baby.
He had loved her, for as long as he can remember he longed for her. He denied it at first, but he knew deep inside himself there was a passion for her long red hair, her smile that could light up a room, and her soft lips that at one time gently caressed his own.
But now, now that he had her, now that she was his, he let her die. He didn't protect her as he had promised; he betrayed her. He was the cause of her death. He could have saved her, could have been there to defend her against her killer. But...he didn't.
Nevertheless, that was the way it went. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do for her now. He remembered running to her as her killer watched him, with narrowed eyes. Laughing. By God, he was laughing as the black haired boy cried over her. He pushed back her hair and gave her one final kiss before carrying her limp body in his arms.
He should have fought. He should have given her killer a taste of his own medicine. One flick of his wand and two simple words would have done him good.
But no, Harry once again betrayed his values, his family, himself. He left the cackling man, free to run and hide wherever he pleased. Harry was bitterly disappointed; ashamed of himself.
"What's the matter with you, Potter?" Draco asked. He knew that Harry had lost someone special, but he was not the only one. Harry didn't understand. Draco loved her more than anything in the world, but he could not have her. He was to stay away from her, because she belonged to Harry.
Draco could remember when he had once pulled the girl aside in the hallway. He had scared the living hell out of her, he knew, but caressed her jaw line with his fingertips all the same. She was breathing hard, and he bent down. When his lips met hers, her hand struck hard across his face.
At this remembrance, he touched his hand to his cheek. She had refused him, and when Harry found out, he was furious. He threatened to kill Draco, but he knew better. Harry Potter would only kill one wizard in his lifetime. And Draco wasn't it.
Harry didn't bother to look up, or even to reply to Draco's question.
"He won't speak to us, either," Hermione stated.
Draco merely glanced in her direction before leaning his head back to think.
He wanted that girl so badly. He longed for her touch, for her love. He wanted her to say that she loved him, and that she would not forsake him as long as they lived. But no, she was Potter's girl, so he could not have her. How much he hated Harry for that. The only girl he ever truly loved, he was rejected, because she loved someone else.
"We're almost there," Hermione declared, gathering up her things.
"Oh, fun," Draco murmured sarcastically. This should be an amusing night.
The four former Hogwarts students sat quietly in the train compartment. It had been so long since they had seen one another, yet refused to speak. No one wanted to discuss her death. Ron blamed Harry for what had happened. Harry blamed himself as well.
Finally Hermione dared to speak. "So Malfoy, how're things going in your life?"
Draco looked askance. "Why do you care, Granger? Trying to be the goody two shoes and bring us all back together? Well, mudblood, we're out of school now. It's not like the good old days."
She sighed. "I guess that's a 'not too well.'" The room once again fell silent.
Harry looked out the window, not wanting to speak to any of them. He held himself responsible for a young girl's death, as did at least one other person on the train. He could still hear her scream as the spell struck her chest, hurling her on the solid ground. That, he knew, was what killed the unborn baby.
He had loved her, for as long as he can remember he longed for her. He denied it at first, but he knew deep inside himself there was a passion for her long red hair, her smile that could light up a room, and her soft lips that at one time gently caressed his own.
But now, now that he had her, now that she was his, he let her die. He didn't protect her as he had promised; he betrayed her. He was the cause of her death. He could have saved her, could have been there to defend her against her killer. But...he didn't.
Nevertheless, that was the way it went. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do for her now. He remembered running to her as her killer watched him, with narrowed eyes. Laughing. By God, he was laughing as the black haired boy cried over her. He pushed back her hair and gave her one final kiss before carrying her limp body in his arms.
He should have fought. He should have given her killer a taste of his own medicine. One flick of his wand and two simple words would have done him good.
But no, Harry once again betrayed his values, his family, himself. He left the cackling man, free to run and hide wherever he pleased. Harry was bitterly disappointed; ashamed of himself.
"What's the matter with you, Potter?" Draco asked. He knew that Harry had lost someone special, but he was not the only one. Harry didn't understand. Draco loved her more than anything in the world, but he could not have her. He was to stay away from her, because she belonged to Harry.
Draco could remember when he had once pulled the girl aside in the hallway. He had scared the living hell out of her, he knew, but caressed her jaw line with his fingertips all the same. She was breathing hard, and he bent down. When his lips met hers, her hand struck hard across his face.
At this remembrance, he touched his hand to his cheek. She had refused him, and when Harry found out, he was furious. He threatened to kill Draco, but he knew better. Harry Potter would only kill one wizard in his lifetime. And Draco wasn't it.
Harry didn't bother to look up, or even to reply to Draco's question.
"He won't speak to us, either," Hermione stated.
Draco merely glanced in her direction before leaning his head back to think.
He wanted that girl so badly. He longed for her touch, for her love. He wanted her to say that she loved him, and that she would not forsake him as long as they lived. But no, she was Potter's girl, so he could not have her. How much he hated Harry for that. The only girl he ever truly loved, he was rejected, because she loved someone else.
"We're almost there," Hermione declared, gathering up her things.
"Oh, fun," Draco murmured sarcastically. This should be an amusing night.