A/N: this is just a short one chapter piece. I really hope you like it even if you don't just read&review please!
I am also eternally grateful to Bon-Bon (no, it is not my lover) who helped me and encouraged me the whole time.
disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the wonderful characters, even though I wish I did. I do, however, own the following piece/plot I wrote.
The Day After
"C'mon mate, get up. You'll be late," Ron said. Slowly, I got up and rubbed my eyes. "Wow, can you believe it, You-Know-Who is gone!"
Suddenly everything came back to me from the night before. I battled Voldemort. My whole body was still sore from the fall off my broom. And not only that, but my longest Hogwarts enemy was killed and surprisingly that part saddened me the most. I wondered howI got to the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron probably took me here. Thinking about that made me smile. Well, might as well get this day over with. And with that thought, I swung my long legs over the bed and passed a hand through my messy hair. I dreaded the next step; my mind was racing with thoughts of what I'd see. But luckily it was nothing big; just Ginny. "Hey," I said.
"Don't talk to me! How can you stand there so peacefully when another was killed? You and Ron areboth the same!" she yelled at me, turned around and ran up to the girl's dormitory. I knew she was right, but I still didn't want to think about it. Instead, I wanted to enjoy the feeling of freedom, so I pushed the thought of what had happened to the back of my head.
Ron started talking to me again, saying, "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go to the Hospital wing to visit Hermione! And you definitely need to get those cuts stitched." So I followed the youngest male Weasley out of the common room and down the winding corridors of Hogwarts. As soon as we walked in, Hermione grinned.
"How are you?" I asked, cautiously.
"Great! Anything is worth paying for what happened. I mean, think about it. Voldemort—oh, for the love of God, Ron, get a grip--is gone. Gone! This is not sinking in. I can't believe--," she stopped as she saw my arm and robes. "Oh Merlin, are you okay? Why didn't you come to the hospital wing yesterday? I'll call Madam Pomfrey. You know, it could be infected. Let me look at it. Come here."
When I didn't move, she continued, "What? Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of me. You can defeat Voldemort, but you can't be touched by me."
I still didn't move towards her, nervousness was making me reluctant to budge. Hermione called Madam Pomfrey, who hurried in with a big smile on her face when she saw me. But when she laid eyes on my visible wounds, she frowned disapprovingly.
"Oh no. This is bad, very bad. It could be infected! Why didn't you come here earlier when we could have done something to prevent it from getting out of control?" she fussed over me. Suddenly, I chuckled as I saw the likeness between Madam Pomfrey and Hermione.
"What are you snickering at? This is no laughing matter, young man. You could have died! In fact, someone did, so don't smirk, and sit on the bed instead. Ronald, make yourself useful and go fetch some bandages--," Madame Pomfrey stopped as she saw Dumbledore enter.
"Excuse me, Poppy, but may I borrow your patient for a moment?" asked Dumbledore.
"Of course, Albus, certainly, but don't you think it would be safer if you wait a minute or two so I can heal his wounds?" she inquired.
"Naturally. But please hurry, someone is waiting for him outside." The headmaster waited five minutes and the second Madam Pomfrey was done he walked out, me at his tail.
"Oh darling!" Narcissa Malfoy cried as she ran towards me. "What happened to you? You look a mess! Oh my sweet, sweet, Drakey-poo, I hope this hasn't hurt your brain! I don't care if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead or not--I want a successful, capable son!"
Albus chuckled and said, "Mrs. Malfoy, relax. Your son is fine. With the care of our dear Madam Pomfrey, everyone is…except Harry Potter, of course. Which brings me to another point. I know that you, Draco, weren't the best of friends with Harry, but I think he would have wanted you at his funeral--after all; you did help a lot."
"Yes, sir," I muttered numbly, understanding, but not wanting to think about it yet. This powerful man looked at me, curiously, as though wanting to understand my emotions. He'd never be able to. No one ever would be, except for Potter, and he was dead. I hadn't been quick enough to deflect the curse...Potter wasn't able to--Voldemort had paralyzed and bound him. Instead, I was too busy trying to rescue the little Weaslette from my father's clutches. And I succeeded, too, by killing him, and then his master...seconds after he finished Potter.
"Well, I don't want to hold your fans waiting, so if you'll excuse me..." said Dumbledore, bringing me out of my reverie. And so I nodded, a lump still constricting my throat, and, turning wordlessly from my cooing mother, I walked away from them, allowing my destiny, not my father, to lead me for once in my life.