Chapter 3 - Home
The scene has changed.
The ground beneath us is hard, barren rock, wet and slippery from the rain pounding down onto it. It's all around us, dripping from the tips of our hair and noses. Above us, grey storm clouds swirl in an angry doom-like fashion. It's cold, and makes me shiver, but not altogether unpleasant.
"You know something," Malfoy accuses, speaking loudly over the noise of the rain.
Should I tell him this revelation? Would he tell me more about our mysterious situation?
"We're connected!" I blurt out, wanting answers.
"And?" he thinks there's something more.
"And what?" I roll my eyes. Of course we're connected. It's no mystery. "We went to school together. You bullied me. That's our connection. You made my life miserable. You worked for the enemy, tried to get us killed. End of story."
Malfoy just stares at me, his grey eyes piercing into my soul. I feel something . . . shame, remorse, pain, though it isn't coming from me.
"That was a long time ago. It was just some silly teasing to keep my mind off everything else," he tells me.
"Silly teasing? You knew full well what that word meant and the damage it would cause to someone who hadn't belonged anywhere their entire life!" I yell.
Malfoy is silent for a moment.
"You don't remember. You don't understand. But you will; you must," he says.
"What?!" I am so confused. He keeps on spouting this nonsense.
He sighs in frustration. "At least get us out of this storm so we can have this conversation when we aren't soaking wet and constantly having to yell!"
Yes. Because that is the only reason we're yelling.
"How do I do that!" I ask.
"Simply think of a place you want to go," he instructs.
I raise a brow. Really? That's it?
I think of home, of mum and dad, of where I grew up. I haven't ben back there in so long. Do I want Malfoy to be there? Not necessarily. But I don't have much of a choice.
The rain stops, the clouds roll away and our surroundings shift into a room.
My room.
My home.
"Where are we?" Malfoy asks.
"The house I grew up in."
I smile at the memories. My dad, tucking me into that bed at night, checking for monsters beneath it. Mum, reading a bedtime story before kissing me goodnight.
I belonged here. It was the one place; the one place I felt safe. I felt wanted.
"Granger."
I ignore Malfoy's quiet call and gently push open my bedroom door, making my way down the stairs.
I freeze, remembering.
My parents were sitting on that sofa. They were unsuspecting of my intentions. But I had to protect them. I had to make sure they weren't found, that they weren't in danger.
Reaching for a picture, I pull it off the shelf beside me, softly running the pad of my thumb along its surface.
"I used to be here," I whisper.
My world is caving in around me as I recall what I did.
A hot tear carves its path down my cheek.
"I did this," I whisper again.
Malfoy.
He's the reason.
Well, at least one of them.
"Get out!" I yell. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"
I collapse to the floor, unable to stand any longer.
I don't want him to know. He doesn't deserve to know.
"Granger," he sounds worried. Why does he sound worried? "What happened?"
"You happened! You and your evil, murderous, snake following friends!" I sob.
"What did you do?" his voice is soft, almost caring. It must be fake, must be. But he's hurt, and I don't know why. My words have hurt him.
"I erased myself from their memories, from their lives. I had to protect them! They had to move on as though I never existed. I had to protect them," I say through my tears.
"I didn't know," he breathes, taking a step towards me.
I look up at him. "And you were one of the monsters I was protecting them from."
I don't know why I said it. I knew it would hurt him even more, but in the moment, I just didn't care. But he's frozen in place, his face contorting with self loathing before hardening once more.
"That's not who I am anymore," he says, his fingers forming fists at his sides. "Come on, let's get out of this freak show."
We are back in the field.
But it has lost its beauty.
I don't want to be here. Not with him. He confuses me. Angers me. Hurts me. Comforts me. And I hurt him.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask, voice full of emotion.
"A lot. What about you?"
I'm silent.
How long has it been since the war? Has he changed? Could it possibly be he was telling the truth? That he's no longer who he used to be?
I look at him. Examine his hard, emotionless face.
I see nothing there.
But his eyes.
They are powerful.
They communicate so much more.
And I feel it.
Everything.
He's hurting.
He has been hurting for a while.
And I want to know why.
Author's Note:
Hello my amazing readers! Thanks for checking out my new chapter!
It was my first week back in classes at Uni, and it was a rough one. My schedule isn't great, my profs are slightly insane, but seeing your reviews made me smile each time a new one came in. So thank-you to those who left comments.
Let me know what you think! You guys have some really great guesses of what's going on and I thoroughly enjoy reading them and thinking them through. I haven't been getting all that many for these first couple chapters, but they each mean so much to me, so if you want to make someone's day . . . *wink wink*
Anyway, I hope you have an awesome week and I will update next Sunday!
~TheQuietAwakening
