Ch 4
A/N: I'm not a big fan of giant notes from authors and shout outs to every single reviewer… but I do have a few thing to say. First: I'm really sorry I haven't updated in so long! I'm going to try harder to keep this going! Oh, and, thanks for all the reviews/emails. Now try and crack this
4/22: So I didn't keep my promise too well, but ah, whatever. See my profile for a detailed description of changes.
Psyche crawled into her bed, her mood much lighter after dinner. Her thoughts now wandered to her mother, and she retrieved the wooden box containing her letters and a precious assortment of belongings.
She removed her favorite pair of earrings, the purple color had now faded considerably, but Psyche would save them forever. She sifted through a few other knick-knacks, including some photos, most of them quite funny. Most people that knew of her parent's marriage considered it a completely random pairing, but somehow her mother's eccentric and disarming frakness seemed to complement her father well.
Though her mother had known she was likely to die in childbirth, she maintained a very positive outlook. The letters were not only full of advice, but of jokes and tidbits. They were always a few pages long, and never failed to give Psyche the feeling that her mother was still alive, and reading aloud just behind her. She would tell stories, and talk about her life with great candidness.
Psyche continued to root around the box until she found the folder she was looking for. Extracting a single piece of parchment from a wad of songs, poems and even some stories, Psyche began to hum the tune she had made up. She read through the lyrics silently, learning more about he mother than any letter could tell. Imaginary, it had been called.
(A/N yes, by evanescence, yes another songfic chapter coming. New challenge- who was her mother? Can you figure it out?)
Psyche thought of the performance that was coming in Christmas. One band allowed per house, it wasn't supposed to be a competition, but when Ian found out she was the lead singer in her band, Ian signed up, and well…
She glanced over the song one last time and felt the surge of her mother's feeling once again. She knew she could win.
The pieces finally fell together in Hermione's head. There had been a spell, cast on herself, Ron, and others close to Harry, they would move on with their lives, and every time they thought of him, they would be reverted back to whatever they were doing before. It was close to the spell used to repel muggles from magical sites, and Hermione felt almost insulted. She was sure they did the right thing, but the fact that she was not trusted to follow the prophecy would weigh down on her forever. There was only one piece of the puzzle that still eluded her: Draco. Why was he there? How did he know to come? What did he ever do to prove himself to Harry?
"So," said Hermione, speaking for the first time, "What now Malfoy? You seem to have all the answers today."
Draco leaned on his staff, staring into the snake eyes, and avoiding the ones that were now turning to him. Harry's words echoed in his mind, and he pushed them away. He wasn't here to make friends, he was here to get this over with.
Ginny watched him as he tried to formulate an answer. She realized she had not seen him since their seventh year. She recalled Harry trying to convince them to accept him, but Ron wouldn't, and Hermione wouldn't believe Harry's arguments that he had changed. In the end, he was avoided or ignored. Now, she had no choice but to wait for him, until he revealed to them the reason for his presence. He did no such thing.
"At this point, I don't know much more than any of you," he said finally, "I can call the Ministry, and I assume you will want to want to handle the funeral."
His simple logic and indifference to the situation brought quickly back to reality.