Chapter 9/./ Memories of You
The more I thought about graduation, the more nauseous I got. I brought all my schoolwork (that I had been severely neglecting) down to the common room, so that I could focus on something else. Other than graduation, other than Hermione.
I was miserable. I tried to do my work, again and again, but nothing seemed to distract me. I leaned back in the chair, waiting for dinner, when I would find out about Hermione.
Dinner came and passed, but I didn't hear anything from anyone. Numerous times, I could've sworn I heard the portrait creak open, but I looked up and the portrait was still shut. No one came. I didn't dare leave, in case I missed them and they refused to let me into the Hospital wing. I guess I was also afraid of the answer I would get.
I knew no answer would make me happy except that she was alive, awake, and ready to leave in the morning.
I sat in the same position until well after midnight, but still no one came. Slowly, ever so slowly, I passed into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, I jumped up, wondering why I was asleep on the couch. As I stretched my cramped limbs, I remembered the events of the previous day. I was disappointed. I had no idea how Hermione was doing, what was happening.
Then I remembered the day was Saturday. The day I was going to search Hermione's home (former home?) for clues as to her change. Her disappearance during the war.
Her strange illness. But how could I go, not knowing whether she was alive, or if she would still be when I returned?
I left the dormitory, intent on finding Dumbledore.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I do believe you're going to London today?" he asked, sounding cheerful. It annoyed me greatly.
"I've decided not to."
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because I don't know how Hermione is," I said, summoning up all my courage not to snap at him. I started to walk away, towards the Hospital wing, but he reached out and stopped me. "Yes, Professor?" I asked, in my most innocent, sarcastic voice.
"Go to London, Mr. Malfoy. Ms. Granger will be fine. We have powerful mediwitches taking care of her. There is no reason to worry. Go to London," he repeated. His tone said clearly, "Resistance is futile." I sighed, nodding.
"Okay."
He had setup a portkey for me, to send me to the Diagon Alley. I sighed, looking around. It wasn't the crowded, busy place I remembered it as. It was silent, and a few passing stragglers gave me strange looks. I hissed at them, and they scattered in fear. I shook my head, preparing myself to head into muggle London.
Hermione's house was blue. It surprised me, somehow, but it also seemed to fit. It was a small house, but it was nice. It was a perfect little cottage, just the right size for a family such as hers.
Wait, what right had I to think something such as that? I knew nothing about her family. I only assumed, which made me more of a fool than I would've been if I had stayed out of this mess. As I had expected, the front door was unlocked. I reached for the handle, but suddenly felt strange. This was wrong, and I knew it. Snooping around her house without her knowledge. I sighed, knowing that I didn't have to do it.
But everything happens for a reason, right? So there was a reason why Hermione's address had been shoved in the back of the picture frame.
There was a reason why the only street I knew in Muggle London was the one she lived on. So, taking a deep breath, I opened the door and went inside.
The front room was impeccable. The walls were a light yellow that blended perfectly with the cream of the carpet. There were two simple, white couches (without a spot on them) facing where I assumed a muggle television or a fireplace should be. Instead, there was a rather large bookcase. I saw a staircase near another door, so I went up it. And hit the jackpot. The only room upstairs, right in front of me, had a large sign on it that read, "HERMIONE." I took another deep breath, steadying my nerves, before pushing open the white door cautiously.
What was I afraid of?
Her walls were a soft red, but not soft enough to be considered pink. There was a rather large canopy bed in the middle of the room, with deep red bedsheets. I shook my head, I was not here to admire her bedspreads. I saw a desk in the corner, and went over to it. There were pictures scattered across it, some moving, some not. Pictures of Harry and Ron with and without Hermione, pictures of Ginny and Hermione, pictures of her family. They all seemed so happy, so innocent. I noticed that, however, in a group picture of the Weasley's, Harry, and Hermione, that Ron and Hermione were conversing quietly and Harry was avoiding them.
I opened the first drawer on my right, and found a pile of old diaries. I pulled one out, sighing. She was talking about how excited she was about her baby sister being born.
I've always wanted a baby sister, y'know. It has always been a dream of mine. I think Ginny will be happy, too, because I'll stop treating her like my adopted younger sister. I can't wait to show her the ways of the world. I hope she's a rebel, unlike me.
I chuckled. I turned a few pages, wondering what else I could find out about her.
Ron wrote me today. I'm supposed to join him and Harry at Headquarters in a couple of days. I know that the war is going to start soon, or Dumbledore wouldn't have sent us all home to be with our families. I wonder when we'll get to return to Hogwarts. I'm scared, I guess. I know I want to fight, I'm not afraid of dying, but... What happens if I lose Harry or Ginny? Or even worse, Ron? I know Ron has harbored a crush on me for a long time, but I also know he's gotten over it by now. Our relationship is simply platonic, but we are so close. Harry and Ginny are dating, so we barely see them anymore. He and I have become best of friends, and he is my sole confidante. Nevertheless, I will fight. Even if I lose my life, I will do my best to protect my closest friends. There is no other choice.
I put it back in the drawer as the feeling that I was invading her privacy came back. This time, I yielded to it. Making sure everything was back the way it had started, I left the house quietly.
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Hermione had been nowhere near the Headquarters during that war. It was not her fault Ron was dead.
Now, if only Potter would accept this.
I went around for nearly 3 hours, buying things from an impromptu list of the things I needed for the Masquerade. I didn't want to buy it, but I figured it needed to be done. Hermione, I knew, would be overjoyed at the thought of having a muggle ball for Halloween. I smiled at the thought, and that got me through the day.
When I returned to Hogwarts, numerous brooms were flying off. A rather well-dressed wizard was conversing quietly with Dumbledore, before nodding solemnly and following the others.
My heart skipped a beat when I noticed the "St. Mungo's" badge on his robes.
"Professor!" I called, hurrying to where he as entering the building. "What's happening?" For once, Dumbledore didn't look cheerful. His face was somber, and there was no twinkle in his eye as he turned to face me. I feared the worst.
"No, Mr. Malfoy," he said, noticing my face drop. "She is not dead. But, as there has been no let up in her condition, even with the Jacobs sisters gone, we have had to send her to St. Mungo's." He started to walk away, but I wouldn't let him leave like that.
"Is she going to be okay?" I asked fiercely, but he simply gave me a sad look.
"We do not know, Mr. Malfoy. We simply don't know."
"No, it can't be that simple! She's either going to be alright or she isn't, Professor! Answer me!"
"Do not raise your voice to me, Mr. Malfoy," he said, his voice low and dangerous. I was immediately ashamed of my reaction and my head dropped.
"I'm sorry, Professor." But the anger in his features had already receded. I supposed he understood.
"It will be fine, Mr. Malfoy. Please, return to your dormitory and try to get some sleep." I nodded, and he left. I sat down, on the stairs in front of the doors leading to the Entrance hall. I looked up at the stars that were beginning to shine in the night sky, and wondered what had gotten us into this mess.
Hermione had never deserved this.
She never deserved this. It kept repeating in my head as I made my way through the strangely empty halls and back to our shared dormitory. I sat down on her couch in the common room, and could smell the honey tinged scent I had come to associate with her. If I focused hard enough, I could still see her there, smiling and laughing with Harry and Ron in front of the fire at Headquarters. I could still see how magnificent she looked at the Yule ball. I could still listen to her and Ginny singing along to some song Molly Weasley was playing on the Wizarding wireless.
But then, the other memories of her flooded in. The first time I saw her after the war. The way she looked when Harry screamed at her.
Finding her unconcious in the bathroom, in a puddle of her own blood.
I sighed, shuddering involuntarily. I missed her very presence, the way she used to lighten up a room. The way her laughter would give me the chills, but in a good way. The way she could fix anything, solve any mystery, the smartest person I had ever known, and I had known plenty of smart people. The way she was kind to me after I joined the Order, even if she hadn't trusted me completely. The way she made every day brighter for everyone involved. All the little things I was jealous of Harry and Ron because of.
Hermione never deserved this. No one deserved this kind of catastrophe.
But especially not Hermione.
A/N: Yay, new chappy! I'm sorry it took so long to get up, but I was suffering from severe lack of inspiration caused by LACK OF REVIEWS! But thankfully, while I was at my mundane job, doing mundane things such as peeling mundane potatoes, I had a HUGE burst of inspiration that will send us nearly to the end of the story (not that it's coming anytime soon).
By the way, the title has a double meaning, in case you didn't notice. "Memories of you" as in his memories of her, and the memories that belong to her (I take too many foreign language classes "The dog of my neighbor" "the memories of you") So fun!
Review, it keeps me writing . So, I hope you guys like it and stuff like that. No preview, yet again, but maybe next chapter. Until next time!
Review answers:
Kidden: Yeah, rumors do grow fast, don't they? I'm glad you liked the revenge! I didn't think it would be as popular as it was, because it seemed so.. immature. But it was good!
NShadows: I'm sorry! Please don't kill me! It was essential to the development of the plot that poor, poor 'Mione be sent to St. Mungo's. I feel bad about it... -.- But nonethless, she's not dead! Alive good, dead bad. Glad you liked the revenge! I was kind of iffy on it, but it turned out excellent, even better than I expected (and I'm the author).
Kiara: That is an excellent quote! I dunno who said it, but no one could've said it better. I'm glad you like the revenge! (I've said that in every reply so far lol). I didn't know what else to do, and it struck me, just like inspiration always seems to hit Draco .. Hope you like the story!
NoleiaNevenbrook: To tell you the absolute honest truth, I can't remember why I placed them in Ravenclaw. It came to me randomly. But this is your explanation! They weren't sorted, obviously, because they switched schools, and the sorting hat refused to sort them. So, not knowing what kind of people they were (and because they act sweet and innocent around teachers), henoticed their grades. Which were, of course, impeccable. So he placed them in Ravenclaw, simple as that. Or not so simple. Hope that satisfies your curiosity, and glad you liked the revenge! And I totally agree. Draco is far too hot for sadness.
Happy fanficcings! (and reviewings, if you want the updates :wink:)