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A/N: A big thank you once again to those who reviewed. It really brightens my day and encourages me to write.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Blah. Blah. Blah. Seriously, if I was THAT rich, would I be writing for Haha.
Special Notes:
Cherbi161: Thank for your constant reviews. You are a wonderful reviewer and I enjoyed those brownies!
willowfairy: Thank you for reviewing. I love your username, by the way. I don't know why Layla popped into my head, but I think she should add some fun conflict and jealous Hermione, perhaps?
NothingIsTrivial: I like your name. Very true. Thank you for reviewing, it means a lot.
Nicci: Aw, thank you. You just made my day!
Draco felt wetness seep into the back of his pants as he sat down on the bleachers. It was still raining. Saturday night had seen a few dry spells, but by Sunday morning the rain had been back in full force. It was now accompanied by a lolling roll of thunder every so often, and if he was lucky, he would catch the arbitrary lighting flash up over the Dark Forest. He watched warily as Crabbe and Goyle passed by the bleachers, snacking on a bag of candy. Crabbe shoved a handful of variously colored chews into his mouth, his chewing reminiscent of a cow, or some other farm animal. Draco felt himself more annoyed with the two than usual. He'd never adored them, but they'd made for good sidekicks. But now they just seemed like drooling guard dogs that never stopped following him. He felt relieved when their hefty figures didn't stop to greet him and just kept ambling on by the bleachers, gleefully eating.
Draco kicked his feet up onto the bleacher in front of him and focused his eyes onto the grey sky. The solid color was suddenly broke by the arching flight of a black owl, his father's personal message carrier. The owl swooped down, landing on Draco's exposed arm, it's talons digging painfully into his skin. He whipped his arm away, the bird squawking angrily as it shifted to the bleacher next to him. Draco saw the letter attached to the owl's leg, emblazoned with the Malfoy seal. He felt his heart begin to palpitate roughly; his parents rarely sent him letters. If they did, it was usually his mother and she never used such formalities as the seal. Draco cautiously untied the letter and held it in his hands, shaking. He stared at it for a few minutes, deciding whether or not to break the seal. Everything could be so easy. He imagined pulling his wand out of his pocket, making a fire on the tip, and burning the letter to ashes. He'd never have to know what evil things his father had to say. He imagined the rage that would flare up in his father's eyes when he found out what he'd done…how he'd twist his long, skinny fingers, in his palm and lick his lips, his eyes bulging with madness. Draco felt his finger slide beneath the envelope and tear the seal in one fluid motion. He unfolded the parchment, bracing himself. When he saw the neat cursive and impersonal opening, it closed off any hope that the sender was his mother. He wasn't even sure that she could write in her state, anyhow.
Son,
Your mother has given birth. I have taken the boy into my care.
Draco's eyes widened and he angrily stuffed his letter into his pocket. He'd known, of course, that his mother was pregnant when his father had sent her to the home. Narcissa, for a reason unbeknownst to Draco, had become belligerent during the summer. It had only spiraled into maddened screams, ramblings, and long spells--sometimes weeks--where she refused to speak at all. Narcissa had been pregnant when his father sent her away and he assumed his father would abort the baby. But it seemed that his father had let his crazy wife go through the pangs of pregnancy. Alone. In a home. Draco felt his anger boiling hotter, imagining how his father had probably burst into Narcissa's quarters and ripped the infant from her arms, not even allowing her to say goodbye. His father had stooped to an all time low. He felt tears building in his ducts as he thought more and more about the situation. He tried to suck them up. "Malfoy's don't cry." Or so his father had always told him. An impassioned tear slipped from his eye and he wiped it away. Suck it up, boy. Don't go sniveling like a brat. Shut up. Don't be so weak. His father's voice was tormenting him. No wonder his mother had gone crazy--spending her whole life with the monster. He thrust his shoulders back and stood. He had to see his mother. He had to make sure she was okay. As he turned on one heel, moving forward, he smacked into another person. Hard.
"Ouch." She rubbed her forehead where is had collided with Draco's chin.
"Granger?" Draco was massaging his chin.
"Are you okay?" Hermione felt herself asking this. She'd been up in the Slytherin tower for a good view of the forest to take pictures when she'd come upon the hunched body of Draco. It had stunned her so much, she'd been afraid to move.
"I'm fine. It's not like you give a fuck anyway." Draco tried to avoid eye contact. If the mud blood knew he'd almost cried…
"I was just asking, Malfoy. You don't have to be so rude." Hermione narrowed her eyes, angrily. Every time she'd tried to be civil to him, he just broke her down. Draco felt another spew of antagonism hitting his lips, but he stopped himself. More than anything right now, he didn't want to be his father's son.
"You don't have to be nosy mud…Granger." He gulped. It was the best sentence he could muster.
"Sorry." Hermione shrugged. "I just stumbled upon you."
"It's…alright. I'm just in a bad mood." Draco sat back down on the bleachers. Hermione sat down next to him, careful not to get too close.
"That's not unordinary." Hermione chuckled a little bit, staring directly out across the Quidditch field.
"You just think that. You only see me when I'm in bad moods."
"And why is that?" Draco turned to Hermione.
"Because I don't like you."
"Likewise." Hermione slumped forward, her elbows on her knees. "What happened?" She couldn't pinpoint her reason for caring, but it was almost disappointing to see her nemesis so down. She wasn't used to seeing Malfoy looking so…bleak.
"My mother had a baby."
"Oh. Why is that so bad?" Draco considered this for a second.
"My mum's crazy. Or enough so that my father thinks she needs to be a home," Draco's words slipped off his tongue icily. His contempt for his father was quite obvious to the puzzled Gryffindor beside him.
"I'm…sorry. You should visit her. It might make you feel better. I bet she'd like it too." Hermione couldn't seem to stop herself from offering advice. Sometimes she didn't know when to shut her mouth. But Draco didn't lash out like she'd expected.
"I want to. But with my punishments, I'll never be able to slip away." Hermione swallowed, thinking.
"I'll cover for you in tutoring tomorrow if you'd like."
"Don't do me any favors, Granger." Draco stood, running a hand through his hair.
"I won't."
"Thanks." Draco gave her a cordial nod before climbing up the bleachers and out of the Slytherin tower.
Hermione sat upon her four poster, a stack of photos before her. She was still feeling a bit funny from the day's events. From her talk with Malfoy to her afternoon in Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry, her mind was a blur. She wasn't sure what to make of her day. Secretly, her heart ached for Draco. She couldn't imagine losing her mother, not to death, but to mental complications. The other half of her was confused. Ron had spent the entirety of their trip attempting to woo her, and Hermione had tried to show him, in a nice, unspoken way, that she was not to be wooed. He'd bought her a butterbeer, complimented her sweater, opened doors for her…it was all so un-Ron-like. She found herself thinking that if Ron could just act like himself, she might even like him.
Hermione looked down at the first photograph from her stack. It was from the first day, a very happy photograph of Harry and Ron laughing. Of course, they weren't moving in her picture. Her camera was a muggle one, void of magical achievements. She flipped to the second picture, the rainbow. She frowned. It hadn't turned out the way she'd imagined. The colors seemed much less vibrant on paper. She flipped on through the stack, coming across a collection of sky pictures. She grabbed the first one and tacked it to the wall, next to her bed. It was perfect. When she came upon the next picture, she felt a blush rising in her cheeks. The impulsive picture she'd snapped of Malfoy. His head was turned towards the camera, looking back at her. His facial expression was composed, his lips slightly upturned and his eyes boring deep into the picture. His hair was slightly ruffled from the wind and the black of his jacket contrasted with the pale of his skin. It was indeed a nice picture. Hermione felt the need to save it…as an example of her work, of course. She reached under her bed and slid it into the zippered compartment of her travel suitcase.
Draco stood in front of the double doors, the white blinding him. He'd just arrived, by broomstick, to the home where his mother was being kept. The silver doorknobs seemed to chastise him as he stood, feet planted firmly on the cement. He was scared. For one of the first times he'd ever admit, he was terrified. He'd taken off immediately after his talk with Granger, flying all night and several hours of the morning to reach his mother. He hadn't given it much thought--until now. What if his father was there? No, he wouldn't visit her like a normal husband. He'd be off making money somewhere, probably doing something illegal. Draco wrapped his hand around the cool doorknob and twisted, pushing the door open. A nurse dressed in long white robes was sitting behind a desk, writing on parchment.
"Hello. Do you need help?" She lifted her head, and Draco noticed she looked a little worn around the edges. He supposed a job like hers would do that to a person.
"Um. Yes. I'm here to see Narcissa Malfoy."
"I'm sorry, son. Visiting hours are only on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday."
"I'm her son." The woman peered over her glasses, contemplating the young man standing before her.
"Considering the circumstances…" She sucked on the end of her quill a bit, "I suppose you can go on in. She's down this hallway, room 7." Draco nodded at the nurse, grateful for her kindness and began his walk down the hall. He found the home eerily still, like no one had lived there for years. But Draco knew different, in fact, his mother had been here for months. He felt his chest tighten as he imagined what she'd look like. The images flashing in his mind almost made him turn around and run. Draco reached room seven, took a deep gulp of air, and pressed the large green button next to the door. The door cracked up and he slipped inside. The instant he was in the room, the door closed and buzzed, locking.
At first, the room seemed empty to Draco. Everything was white. The walls were white, only marred by a few colored photographs of himself. Then he saw her. Narcissa was huddled on the corner of her bed, hands folded delicately in her lap. She wore a white nightgown and her light blonde hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wavering in uncertainty.
"Mum." Draco stepped forward and took the shaking figure of his mother in his strong arms, holding her tightly.
"You've finally come to see me." She whispered into his neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears staining the collar of his shirt.
"Father told me about the baby." Narcissa yanked away from Draco, scooting her frail form against the wall.
"Took it away," she mumbled incoherently, "Took it away."
"I'm sorry, mum." Draco crawled onto the bed, desperately wishing for a way to calm his mother.
"He took the monster away." Narcissa's eyes darted up to the ceiling and she blinked several times. Draco remained silent, trying to keep his heavy breathing under wraps. "Dark child. He took it. It wasn't supposed to live." Narcissa's face was filled with terror as she turned back down to Draco. "It hurt me."
"What hurt you, mum?" Draco was leaning in towards her, trying to understand what she was trying to tell him.
"The darkness. He took the darkness."
"What's the darkness, Mother?" Narcissa looked at him for a few seconds. She seemed to look right through him. Then she raised a bony, vein-ridden hand, and pointed it at her still swollen stomach. "It was here." Draco felt his heart begin to choke. "It's not supposed to live." She said again, tears collecting in her eyes.
"Mum, it's okay." Draco could see she was getting overworked and he tried to ease her by rubbing her shoulders.
"No. He has the darkness, he doesn't need you. Worthless, is what he said."
"Mum?" Narcissa had pulled herself into fetal position, rocking back and forth and moaning.
"Darkness. Bad. Darkness." She kept repeating this over and over again, until her words became screams of agony. Draco anxiously tried to calm her, but it was to no avail. The door creaked open and the nurse from the desk stepped in.
"I think you better go. She's going to start the others up again." The woman looked down at Draco and he nodded. He gave a quick kiss to his mother's forehead.
"Don't be scared, mum." His mother's body was still convulsing in a fitful rage as he left the room in a hurry.
The darkness. It wasn't supposed to live.
A/N: Thank you again for reading. Remember to review! Comments & constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated. They only make mea better and more effective writer.