A/N: Hi everyone!! I was sooooo happy that I received new reviewers, which I must of course thank. But first, to A Very Interested Reader: Thank you for the best review any1 could ask for. You said exactly everything I was hoping my readers would say and feel. Your guess of where Archenland came from is probably right. I just wrote down some name that vaguely popped in my head, and I was wondering where I had gotten it from. The Narnia Chronicles were a fav of mine growing up. To Lbj5411, you said it was great that I always stuck to the story, well ironically, there's a major digression in this chapter, but I think it came out amazing. It sheds some light on Draco.
To Elena: You said that Eve was too Mary Sue-ish. I had been expecting this for a long time and am surprised it hasn't come up before. Well lemme explain. I first posted this story on ff.net about six months ago, but I had started conceiving it MUCH earlier. After I posted a few chapters and started reading other stories, you could imagine my dismay at seeing all those Mary Sue stories about beautiful, new characters who are perfect, and how much they are reviled in fanfictiondom. But when I started writing this story, I hadn't even heard of fanfiction.net, let alone about Mary Sues. And it had gotten too late to change my story (and besides, I had gotten quite attached to Eve, lol). Nevertheless, it was one of the reasons I wanted to discontinue the story, but then a few wonderful readers came along, and I couldn't Not write. So there. Hopefully you still enjoy this story, and these few chapters without Eve are for those who like original characters ONLY, lol. But I would also like to point out that Eve is TOTALLY original, not inspired by any Mary Sue I have read about before, and therefore she isn't exactly a Mary Sue. For one thing, she's not an American exchange student (there r soo many of those!) she's not related to Dumbledore, and she is NOT in Gryffindor. And Draco does not love her, as you have seen and will see. She is pretty and does have a lot of powers and Harry loves her, but as u've seen, my plot is far more original than that (I hope hehe). But I still appreciate any and all comments you have. Tell me what you think! Wow, this is like my longest A/N yet.
Thanks again to my other readers, angel, kuipo, Bobboman ( an old reader who started reviewing my story again thank you!!!) mist (who did like my story, made a little mistake and accidentally mixed this reader's comments with what Elena said, I'm sorry!!!!!!!! Its fixed now, as u can c) and to my beta readers, lucy and amy. Now that I'm done rambling, on with the story.
Warning: this chapter is a little, um, darker.
P.S. If u guys thought the last chapter was intense, wait till u see this one.
Chapter Twenty One: Destruction and Tears
Hermione was all the way down the stairs when she realized she was the one who had run away, from her own room, and she stopped for a second. But she was beyond feeling stupid; and she had also realized that Ron hadn't come after her. Considering the way she had refused him, she wasn't very surprised. But she couldn't figure out if it was like him or not to do that. After what had just happened, she didn't seem to know what Ron was exactly like anymore.
She wanted to go somewhere, to talk to someone, but she didn't know who. Harry told her he would be with Sirius, and the last thing she wanted to do was explain in front of him what happened. Then, wiping the tears away from her face, she decided where to go—to the person who was probably behind all this.
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Meanwhile, Ron was still sitting on Hermione's bed, heartbreakingly alone in the awful silence. 'I'm so stupid,' he reprimanded himself. 'She was already confused as to what was going on with me, and now I had to go and do that.' But he couldn't somehow help it. After seeing his dream become terrifyingly real, he was very aware of everything else he was seeing that day, and for a mysterious reason, he would see flashes of Hermione—very disturbing images. He thought perhaps he was hallucinating, that the poison had some affect on his brain, for he would never imagine Hermione that way, lying unconscious, in a pool of blood. The flashes were so vivid, almost like real memories, that he had to remind himself that Hermione was actually fine; and the first chance he got to be close with her again, he had kissed her harder than he had ever before, to assure to himself that she was still real, and in holding her in his arms she could be protected from the world outside. He was also half afraid that he might not get a chance to kiss her again, even though he didn't know why. All in all, the whole thing gave him a nauseous, twisted feeling in his heart. He was seeing, feeling things that he had never felt before, and every time it seemed to cost him something.
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"Doom's Hill? Where's that?" Harry asked. He was still holding the sword in his hands, although seemed to have totally forgotten about it. Sirius stepped back and looked at him. He seemed slightly frightening in a strange way; a second ago he was looking at him with daggers in his eyes, holding the sword as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him, as if the length of the sword was perfect for his height, and the shape of its hilt designed specially for his fingers. After Sirius had named the location, his gaze had softened a bit; but Sirius had to take in a breath, because he looked so frighteningly like James, but even more so, if that was possible. He wondered if Voldemort even ever felt slightly afraid seeing him.
"It's on the outskirts of wizarding England. Some people don't even know where it is; and those who do soon want to forget."
"Why? What's it like?"
What was it like? Sirius didn't know what to say. The one place he would never want to go? The one place he would never want to see Harry in? The worst place in the world?
"It's a cemetery, Harry."
"But what does it look like? What do my parents' graves look like?"
Sirius sighed. "I don't know. I've never seen them myself. I was arrested right after they were killed, remember? And after I got out, I ….never got the nerve to visit it." Harry immediately regretted asking that last question. He merely nodded.
"Okay, so how do I get there, exactly?"
Sirius finally smiled. "I'd rather kiss Snape than tell you."
Harry smiled, too. Sirius always looked haunted, sober, or relentlessly weary. So whenever he rarely smiled, it was always contagious. He said, "Alright, I guess I have to accept that." He paused, the smile creeping wider. "I thought you hated Snape."
"Shut up or I'll gore you with your own sword."
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Draco was in the foggy area between sleep and being totally awake, only vaguely aware of reality. His thoughts started drifting away into the dark, murky ocean surrounding him, and flashbacks started haunting him.
He remembered being seven years old, his face still round with childhood, his eyes big and bright with innocence. He was playing in the grounds around Malfoy Manor. He would spend hours and hours there, it was so lush and beautiful. There were different kinds of exotic plants from around the world (many of them deadly or carnivorous, and many that looked like things you would only find in an exotic Herbology guide). Draco would look at how bright their colors would be, and was saddened at how beautiful, yet deadly they were, and though he longed to touch one, he knew he never could.
Suddenly, amidst the different leaves, bushes, and stalks, all a million shades of green, he saw a bright flash of silver, like a racing beam of light. He turned around to see where it might have come from, but was surprised only to find his father standing behind him, smiling his smile that was never friendly or comforting.
"I bought you a unicorn, Draco." Draco's eyes lit up; finally, he had something that didn't have evil undertones.
"Well call him, so I can play with him, father."
Lucius's grin widened. "No, Draco. You must tame her first. Unicorns don't like boys after they're changed from being gold when they're babies. Yours is silver; slightly untrustworthy of men, but still able to be tamed before she turns pure white into adulthood."
Draco became disheartened. All of his presents seemed to have a catch, a dark side to them, that always kept him from fully enjoying them. But he was still grateful for his present.
"Thank you, father."
Lucius's smile never left his face. "Don't thank me just yet." And he walked away.
Draco remembered running after the unicorn around the grounds for hours on end. Whenever he would catch sight of it, he would try and sneak up on it, but it was always fast—unbelievably fast. It would burst around the trees with the speed of lightning. Draco tried everything, leaving food, which she ate, but never stayed for much longer. He even charmed beautiful harps to play music—but nothing worked. The unicorn would walk a few steps toward it, but as soon as she saw Draco, she ran.
One day he found himself very fortunate. He saw it from far away (he had become used to scouting around for it and usually caught it in sight in a blink of an eye).But for the first time, he saw it sleeping. He crept closer and closer, till he was about four feet away and saw how gorgeous a creature it was for the first time.
His father would always buy the best, and indeed, it seemed he had done it again now. She was elegant, with long legs and a graceful neck, her white hair so fine it would never tangle. But most of all, she sparkled all around with a silvery glow that lit up her surroundings like a soft candle. Between its ears, amid its showery mane, he saw the long horn, glittering as if it were made of an iridescent form of ivory. She looked like she wasn't made of flesh and bone, but of silver crystal. Surely a female this beautifully made was probably the most wild.
Draco couldn't help but let out a small breath of awe, and that was enough. The unicorn whipped its head around and disappeared in a flash. Draco followed the thumping of its hooves around the forest, running swiftly, blindly, like he never had before. Suddenly his foot caught a stray vine and he fell—hard. His lip was bleeding and throbbing, as he had accidentally bit it during his fall. And then, to his horror, he saw a vile bright green liquid oozing onto his arm. He had tripped over one of his father's Death Vines, whose liquid was extremely poisonous. Pain rippled across his arm, searing it to beyond endurance. He yelled in agony and started crying. He was still a little too young to fully grasp the idea that he might be dying; all he felt was pain, and he wanted it to stop. He felt it hard to breathe, as if an enormous weight was crushing against his chest, as the poison thumped through his veins. His eyes were watering, but through the blur he saw a silver glow.
It was his unicorn; it was walking slowly towards him, until he was level with its fathomless, silvery eyes. This next shock was almost too much for Draco to bear. The mystical animal nuzzled his face gently, as if he were one of its fowls. Then, it touched its glowing horn to his arm, and he felt a cool, soothing sensation spread over the hot pain. He was able to breathe and see again. He looked up at the unicorn, and got up. He hesitatingly stretched out his hand, quivering, but the animal let him touch her smooth hair, hair so magical it was used in the core of wands. He stroked her neck, her flanks, and she felt like she was made out of silk. She playfully licked his face, and Draco laughed and giggled like never before—in pure happiness: the signature laugh of a child that he never had before.
After a whole day of pure bliss with his first, real friend (which strangely enough, wasn't human, but was much better), Draco reluctantly pulled himself away from the unicorn. For the first time, he proudly showed his father how he had tamed it, but he didn't seem as happy as he thought he would be.
Three years passed, and Draco remembered another day, which was quite different. It was winter, and all the plants were frozen away in the bitter cold. His unicorn, his own unicorn, had grown into a dazzling creature, so white she made the snow look dull. Sometimes she would even speak to Draco in her thoughts, telling him stories she knew of adventures with other unicorns, elves, and dragons. He would listen with fascination . But that day his father had, for the first time, seen him with the unicorn. She was nuzzling him with fondness and caring.
"Oh, hello, father." The unicorn stayed, despite his presence. Draco motioned her to leave, and after a small lick of his face, she did.
But Lucius was looking angry, more angry than he had ever seen him before. His eyes had threatening sparks, like those which flew from destructive fires.
"Idiot boy," he hissed, "I told you to tame her."
"But I did!" he insisted.
"But did I tell you to do anything else?" Draco was utterly confused. He continued, "All you had to do was make her obey you. I never said for you to make her love you." He said the word as if it was the most filthy thing in the world. "Now, she is weak. Before, in her wildness, she was so powerful she would instill fear in the hearts of unicorn hunters all over the world. It took me years for them to catch her. But now, she has learned to love man and will trust anyone; she will be in constant danger of being stolen. I see her magic has even gone slightly. She is useless now," he said between gritted teeth.
Draco was astonished at how he could call such a beautiful thing useless. Then again, Draco always had a soft spot for beautiful things.
"Boy, you know I will need to punish you for this." Draco bent his head, dreading what will come next. "Stand up." He ordered as he raised his wand. Draco stood up, expecting the spasms of torturous pain that were so awfully familiar. But instead, he heard his father shout, "Imperio!"
It was the mind-control curse, so powerful it would land anyone in Azkaban for life if performed on a human; but that never stopped his father from performing illegal curses before. Draco felt his mind being swept clean, a dumb obedience filling him. To his horror, he saw his father throw a dagger to the floor, and it landed in the grass. It had a silver handle decorated with serpents twisting around a decorative 'M.'
Then Draco heard only one voice in his head, firm and clear: "Take the dagger."
He obeyed, against his will, moving as if separated from his own body. He heard the voice again: " Now walk to the unicorn."
Draco was utterly horrified. He started fighting with all his mind against it. But the voice had gotten more impenetrable, like a cold bar of iron: "Do it! NOW!" He couldn't fight it. Even Harry wasn't able to fight off the Imperius Curse the first time, and he was about five years older than Draco was then. A swift wave was moving him inexorably forward. He turned and saw the unicorn, sitting on its flanks. In seeing him, she raised her head happily. But Draco was moving forward in a trance, and she blinked at him.
And then it happened: an awful force made him plunge his hand, gripping the knife so tight it cut into his skin. He felt the blade strike true, ripping the flesh, shattering his crystal. The horse cried out, a piercing noise that he would never forget. He felt its warm blood oozing onto his hands, sticky, silvery, flowing like thick mercury. Finally the overpowering wave halted, and he was thrust into icy reality. He threw the knife away, and saw that its handle had ingrained the symbol of the 'M' into his palm: and it was ingrained far deeper than that. He knelt by its side, cradling its magnificent head in his hands. The creature looked at him through its liquid eyes, which showed a measureless anguish; but the physical pain was not what was hurting it. Draco saw the look of betrayal, and deep despair, and he started crying like he never did before. He lowered his head to it, his tears spilling against its face. He croaked out, "I'm sorry. So sorry." He saw life slowly slipping away from the one thing he had truly loved—and had loved him back.
Then he heard his father behind him. Draco looked at him, and suddenly a fury so all-encompassing filled him that all he wanted to do was in a wild moment grab the dagger again and plunge it into his father. He grabbed it and lunged forward, but he raised his wand and an invisible wall blocked him. Draco felt an immense wave of defeat. He felt too drained to do anything anymore. His father was grinning maliciously, as if seeing his son in a murderous rage was the most pleasurable thing he had ever seen. He bent over and dipped his fingers into the silvery blood. He walked over to Draco and wiped his fingers across his face. The blood mixed with his tears and dripped to his lips and he tasted its metallic flavor.
"Now what do you say, Draco?"
Draco answered in barely a breath, hatred and fury and despair in his voice. "Thank you, father."
As his father left, he fell to the floor, letting the tears flow through him, but not giving the purifying, calming sensation that crying gives; they were bitter, anguished tears. And that was the last time Draco had cried—ever. Because after that, nothing else ever seemed nearly worth crying over.. Because in that day he had lost all innocence, and all signs of apparent weakness. He had learned that to love was to destroy, and to be loved was to be broken.
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Ron decided to go and visit Hagrid. He didn't find Sirius or Harry in the hospital wing, and he didn't want to stay alone there with Eve for long (if anyone saw him, they would get other ideas). So he walked out of the castle, onto the grounds, until he saw the familiar, welcoming door of his hut. He knocked and Hagrid opened the door.
"Hallo there, Ron," he beamed. He looked inside and saw a pair of sparkling green eyes covered in glasses barely visible behind Hagrid's huge form. Harry waved at him.
"Yeh better keep a more careful eye on yer friend here, Ron. I almost set Fang loose on 'im, I was so angry with 'im walkin' out of the castle during the night."
"Stop worrying about me, Hagrid. There's enough people doing that already," Harry said. He looked cheerful and was sipping some tea from one of Hagrid's oversized cups. Ron sat on one of his enormous chairs across from Harry. He didn't seem upset or reserved when seeing Ron. Or if he was, he was hiding it.
"Where's Hermione?" Hagrid asked.
Then both boys became uneasy. " I dunno," Ron finally choked out.
Hagrid looked at him, raising a suspicious, bushy eyebrow. " 'Arry said she was with you, Ron. Is she upset over what happened today?" Ron gave a small nod. Hagrid looked worried. "Yeh weren't really doin' anything with that girl, were yeh, Ron?"
"No!" he cried with such finality that even Hagrid looked a little frightened.
"Alright, mate. I believe yeh, I never said I didn'. Here, I think yeh need some o' me tea." He poured some into a new cup and gave it to Ron. He gulped it down, its heat calming him a bit.
" I didn' believe my ears first time I heard what happened. An' then when I heard she had saved Ron of all people, I started gettin' worried. That girl is dangerous, she is, an' the less yeh have to with her, the better."
Harry slammed his cup onto the table. "But she saved Ron's life! And she saved Sirius! Twice! Isn't that enough?"
Hagrid smiled a little. "Calm down, 'Arry. Firs time I'm seein you boys getting all hot and bothered over a girl. I told yeh before. She might be good for real. What she did today—that was amazin'. But she might also be putting on an act. An' we can't know fer sure. So we gotta always keep an eye out, 'specially now."
"I'm gonna bring her over here one day, Hagrid, and then you can see for yourself that she's alright," Harry said.
"Listen, you two. I don't want yeh comin' over here no more. 'Specially during the dark. It just ain't safe. Now Ron is in just as much danger as 'Arry. There might be Death-Eaters who'd wanna get rid of him 'cause of what Eve did today. Dumbledore sent Aurors to his house to protect his family."
"What?" Ron gaped. He had never realized how much in danger he was in, and never in his wildest dreams he realized it would affect his family. Harry looked at him, a slight flicker of disappointment. It seemed that he had wanted to tell Ron something. But he turned to Hagrid.
"Hagrid, where's Doom's Hill?"
Hagrid almost dropped his mug. "Who told yeh about that place, 'Arry? Yeh shouldn't be goin' there."
"Why not?? My parents are buried there!" he cried.
Hagrid's jaw dropped. "Who told yeh that?"
"Doesn't matter. Just tell my why everyone wants to keep me away from there." Harry voice was firm.
"It's just that, well, it might be too painful for yeh. Doom's Hill is where they bury all those murdered 'cause of You-Know-Who. Before him, it was for those who died fighting the Dark Side under Slytherin and his followers." Harry looked at Hagrid, whose reply only half-answered his question, somehow. Then Ron interrupted his thoughts.
"Harry, we need to get our minds off all this. Why don't you schedule a Quidditch practice soon?"
Harry gaped at him. "Ron, look what's happening! To you! To Hermione! And all you want to think about is Quidditch?"
"Look, I just thought it might calm us all down a little. Besides, I just have this insane urge to fly all of a sudden. I dunno," he shrugged.
"I won't be surprised if Dumbledore cancels the matches," Hagrid said. Ron looked crestfallen.
"Alright, Ron. If Dumbledore lets, I'll have a practice session tomorrow and you can come watch," Harry offered.
"Only if I can come an' keep an eye out fer yeh," Hagrid said. Harry consented. "In fact, lemme walk you two to the castle, and I don' wanna see yeh wanderin' around."
All three of them walked out of the hut. The night air was refreshing, the chill long removed from it. Hagrid stopped when they were in front of the doors to the castle.
" I want yeh to promise me one thing, 'Arry."
"What?"
"Promise me yeh won't go near that cemetery."
"Why not?"
"Because I know yeh, 'Arry. If yeh go, then you'll get all these ideas of revenge an what not. I don't want yeh goin' looking for trouble."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, but said, "Alright, Hagrid. I promise."
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Draco heard a single word, and the murky, disturbing state of mind completely disappeared, shoving him back to clear reality.
"Sobrietus!"
He blinked and when his vision cleared, he saw the last person he expected to see.
"Granger! What in the bleeding hell are you doing here?" he hissed.
She didn't answer; she was looking at him boldly.
"How did you get here?"
"I know Eve's password. And her room has a passageway leading right here."
Draco stood up from his bed and managed to put his normal sneer back in place. " What do you think you're accomplishing, coming here?"
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her voice. "All I want to do, is to ask you why."
"Why what?"
"Why you put that poison in Snape's cup. He's your favorite teacher, and you're his favorite student. Why would you do it, unless you were fulfilling commandments from You-Know-Who?"
Draco gave her a deep, penetrating stare. His eyes were sharp and cutting. He walked slowly over to her, but she still looked up at him, tilting her chin up defiantly. He looked into her eyes, and it was enough to send chills down her neck. He smiled wickedly. "I see you've been crying. But now you've come here. What, the Gryffindor boys aren't giving you enough trouble? Poor little Mudblood."
"Jealous of Ron, are you?" she retorted.
And then Draco reacted the only way he knew how to against something that confused him or dared to allure him—with anger and hate. He pushed her against the wall. She was about to slap him again, but he grabbed her wrist, squeezing it with all his strength. "You think you're so fucking clever. Why on Earth would I be jealous of that filthy Gryffindor, when he's about to die in a few days?" He was crushing her wrist so hard, instead of screaming questions about what he meant about Ron, all she could do was let out a painful noise.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered in her ear, smiling at the tears of pain welling up in her chocolate eyes. He had her trapped against the wall, so close to her that he could feel her heart beating rapidly, and the terror in her eyes. Draco was always amazed at how warm and expressive brown eyes could be, showing every emotion underneath. It was one of the reasons he always liked dark eyes and hair, so extremely different than his own pale, icy, inexpressive complexion. He didn't really intend to hurt her as much as he was doing now, but thinking about his father had arisen a rage in him which found itself an outlet on Hermione. But she still dared to defy him, and everything from her eyes to her hair, was wild and untamed.
"You're cutting off the circulation in my hand. You do realize you're touching a filthy Mudblood, don't you?"
He smiled with venom. "By the tone of your voice, I can't tell whether you like it or not."
Hermione squirmed against him, but he held fast against her. She wrenched her hand away, which was throbbing and brilliantly pink, but he grabbed her by her shoulders and pushed her against the wall a second time, putting his arms against the wall, on either side of her face. He was breathing heavily and he put his face even closer to hers; he smelled faintly like expensive cologne and alcohol. Hermione's face was burning with rage—and something else. She had never been this physically close to Draco before. His chest was heaving against hers, and she could see his collarbones from underneath his shirt. She could feel his hot breath searing her skin and strands of his hair falling and tickling her cheeks. Everything about him was sparked with a kind of dangerous electricity. She was terrified with the prospect of getting lost in the raging gray storm of his eyes. She reached for her wand, but with a swift motion Draco already had his against her throat.
Tears had already made shiny streams across her cheeks, but she didn't care. " Are you going to hurt me, Draco?"
Draco held his wand firmly, but hesitated. She always had a way of hitting a nerve with him, and she had done it again. He suddenly remembered something Eve had told him about her. How when she had seen her as a phoenix she had said her name was Selene, the same name of the shining, silver moon goddess: and the name of his unicorn.
He lowered his wand, and Hermione started to breathe again. He backed away from her. "You shouldn't be here, Granger. Get out."
Hermione, realizing that she had made an enormous mistake coming to him, started making her way out. Then somebody gruffly knocked on the door three times. Draco's eyes, for the first time betrayed some fear as they widened in horror. Hermione looked at him questioningly.
"Holy shit. It's my father."
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