Title: Mistaken Actions
Pairing: HP/DM, RW/HG (slash eventually)
Rating: M
Summary: After the Dumbledore's death, Harry receives a letter from none other than Draco Malfoy.
Legal Stuff: I own nothing but the characters you don't recognise and the plotline.
Author's notes: JezziiAlexiel, ZombieGurl98, MadleyTassida and BlazeSplinder Froste and Aeris Malfoy-Potter, it's your reviews that have spurred me to write another chapter. Hope you enjoy. Also, Vito, for those that wanted to know, means "Life". It's Latin. Therefore, Dragon Life Bad-Faith is Draco's full name in my stories. And remember people, read and review, read and review!
Chapter 3: Mad World
And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying, Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very very
Mad World, Mad World
Draco Vito Malfoy blearily opened his eyes, his entire body aching. What happened? Where was he? Had he died? Because, right above him, in the midst of a glowing white room, was Hermione Granger's face. Hadn't someone told him that she was dead? Hadn't she died because of his mistake? Someone had told him, he could remember… who had it been… the memories were slipping away now, faster… he could barely remember anything now….
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
And they feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, Sit and listen
He remembered that he should remember the person… the person was dear to him… went to school with him… shared the same love of flying as him…. Who was he…
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, No one knew me
Hello teacher tell me whats my lesson
Look right through me, Look right through me
He was the son of a powerful man, he remembered that… everyone hated him for it, no-one ever saw the real him, no-one wanted to know… except for him… he knew… he understood… he was the same… he knew…
And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which i'm dying, Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad World, Mad World
Draco, it's not your time. You want to go, but it's not your time Hermione whispered in his mind, her face above him smiling. You have too much to do. You have too much love to give. You have too much to say. I can't let you go.
"Granger…" he murmured, then found himself sitting upright in a bed in a dark room, his entire body gleaming with sweat, someone sitting next to him on the bed. As Draco tried to calm his breath, he studied the profile of the person.
"Potter?" he whispered, reaching out to touch the boy, no, man, on the shoulder. The shoulder felt tense under his hand, and he yearned to massage it, to ease the tenseness out of that boy.
Harry jerked at his touch, he'd been asleep. Draco pulled his hand back, thinking that Harry had flinched away. He'd always had that problem. He thought everyone hated him.
"Oh, good morning Malfoy," he said, smiling vaguely. "You passed out on the way back here."
"Speaking of here, Ha- Potter, where are we?"
"We're in Black Manor, where my godfather was brought up. I'm surprised you didn't recognise it, seeing as your mother is a Black," Harry chuckled. "She's was my godfather's cousin."
"Mother didn't much like her Aunt. She's was… insane. I met her once, when I was three. Two years before she died, I think. I never liked her either, but Father seemed to insist on fawning over her. Something about an old family. How did you come by this house anyway, Potter? The last Black died the year we were born."
"Incorrect, Malfoy. You forget about Sirius Black," Harry said, twisting where he sat to look at Draco, his green eyes shining in the dark of the bedroom. "He was my godfather, my father's best friend. He ran away from this house and his mother when he was 16. His mother disowned him after that. He was never a true Black. He hated the idea that being a pureblood made you better than everyone else, especially when there were maniacs like Voldemort running around claiming that being pureblood was the only way to be."
"Isn't Voldemort a half-blood, Potter?"
"Why, yes," Harry laughed. "Doesn't stop him though. Snape was a half-blood as well, did you know that? His dad was a muggle." Draco was silent. He sat, staring at the bedsheets across his knees, chewing on his bottom lip.
"Anyway," Harry said brightly, standing up and stretching. "We've got a busy day today. We need to get you down to what's left of the ministry and figure out what to do with you."
And with that, Harry left the room.