Draco Malfoy and His Quest to Sensibility

by cleury

Chapter XXIII

Draco drifted between the edge of consciousness and delirium. He felt the wheeling sensation you got when you were drunk, but without the nausea, and it wasn't all together unpleasant. The dying thing's taking longer than I expected.

Footsteps.

Or was it the sound of drums ushering him to the destination of his Next Great Adventure?

He felt someone shake him. His head flung back and forth. "Draco?"

I know it's rude not to respond when someone's calling your name, but I'm a bit busy with the process of dying here, you'll have to excuse me.

"It's okay, he's not dead, Look. He's breathing. He'd just been knocked back by an incredible hex."

"Hermione Granger, you have to calm down."

Oh, okay, so I'm not dead. That's a relief.

"You have to tell us what happened."

Hermione was in hysterics, from what Draco could understand. He could hear her breath jerking up and down rapidly as though she was having an asthma attack. Draco heard an awful lot of sniffing and whimpering, too.

"He's dead!"

Jean is dead too? Draco's stomach lurched. He didn't want Hermione to go to prison. But oh the irony of the World's Do-Gooder going to prison...!

"Don't worry," he heard Adrian say soothingly. "Jean Kidd's been knocked unconscious as well. He's not dead."

Hermione didn't stop crying, and continued to mutter. "He used the killing curse!"

What? You mean Jean Kidd used the Killing Curse on me and I didn't die? Morgana, I'm going to be The Boy Who Lived II. If they were going to call him that (and thus by extension always be second to Harry Potter, then he much rather die right here on the spot.)

"Draco!" shouted Adrian, he felt his friend shake him again. Yes, yes, I hear you, buddy. "Wake up!"

"Rennervate," a different, calmer, voice said.

Draco felt a burst of heat hit his chest, and red filled his vision. He winced and tried to open his eyes. "I'm not dead," he managed to gasp.

"Thanks for stating the obvious."

Draco looked up to see a man who looked to be in his mid-forties looking down at him . Stern, with the fierce gaze as a hawk, he was lean and he looked as though he'd seen this kind of scene more times than Draco had eaten breakfast.

"You scared the shit out of me!" Adrian grabbed him in a hug and Draco hugged him back, glad to be alive.

Draco turned to look at Jean Kidd's slumped figure. He had underestimated Kidd's stupidity. He could have gotten off with little more than a slap on the wrist and warning from the Ministry, but because he had aimed an Unforgivable at a person, with intent to kill, he now had a one-way ticket to life imprisonment. Draco turned to hear Hermione still sobbing, and he gulped. He should've been more forceful with her, should have demanded she stay back at his office and wait. He shouldn't have taken her into such a stressful environment. Hermione's shoulders were slouched, and she sat half sprawled on the floor, a curtain of hair falling across her face.

"He's dead!" she wailed again.

Draco looked confused for a moment, and stumbled towards Hermione, still light-headed from being stunned. If he went over, she would be able to see that he was in fact alive, and that the authorities were restraining Jean Kidd. That there was nothing to be afraid of. He pulled at Hermione's shoulder and her body shifted allowing Draco to come at an angle—

and he saw the unnatural way Crookshanks laid on the ground—

and Draco's stomach lurched.

He felt his own eyes heat up. Soon his cheeks were streaked with tears, and he could feel his vision blurring as more water welled up from his tear ducts. "Please," he said shakily trying to speak without his voice breaking, "could you give the two of us some privacy?"

Hermione looked away from Draco, and continued staring at Crookshanks.

Draco didn't wait to get an answer from Adrian and the people from the Ministry. "Quietus," he said, casting a spell around Hermione and himself. In his peripheral vision he saw Adrian exclaim something, and the older man speak. He shook his head and just looked at Crookshanks, tears rolled down his cheeks. Soon he was sniffing and whimpering, too.

The reinforcements, the stern man and Adrian exited the building, escorting Jean Kidd with them, but Draco could scarcely notice.

Nothing mattered but the ginger cat lying lifeless on the ground.

He knelt and touched the still-warm feline, let out a loud sob. Draco felt as though he was drowning, and he struggled to catch his breath. There was emptiness, a hole inside of him, and when he registered the void, he knew it was shock because he couldn't feel anything.

Then it hit.

Something twisted sharply inside of Draco. He couldn't define exactly where, but the pain snaked through the core of his body and branched into his shoulders, his arms, hands and to his fingertips.

Guilt.

Draco should've run as soon as they managed to get Crookshanks. But he had thirsted for revenge, and paid the ultimate price.

Draco choked, and felt his warm tears drip on his knuckles. He was a lone man on a boat fast filling with water, and he couldn't swim. Wouldn't swim. Draco wanted to drown and succumb himself to the darkness, to feel numb. Away from the guilt—

"It's my fault, isn't it?" he heard Hermione whisper. "It's my fault."

The black, evil part of Draco's heart rejoiced and urged him to agree. One simple word. Three letters. And you'll be free. Draco felt faint, and sensed the queasy feeling in his stomach again. His body wasn't doing a good job at handling emotions. He looked at Hermione. Her face had gone completely white, and fresh tears ran down the well-worn paths on her face. The side of her face developed a nervous tick, and he buried the selfish side of himself.

He might be able to handle being the cause of Crookshank's death, but Hermione couldn't. She was already having difficulty coping with her own issues. He wasn't sure what happened in reality, it had happened all too fast. But he could make it go one way or the other.

But what about me? the selfish part of his heart whined. We have problems too.

"It was me," said Draco, his voice strange and wooden to his ears. He saw Hermione turn and face him with an empty look in her eyes. "It was me," he repeated again. He looked right into her eyes and tried to convince her of so. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Hermione exhaled shakily as she accepted Draco's words. In her present state, Draco could see that she was prepared to believe anything. They continued to stare down at the dead cat, knowing that their lives would never be the same anymore.

A few moments later, Draco was forced to undo the quieting charm around them, and the busy sounds of the outside world filled his ears. It seemed incredible that such a flurry of activity—Jean Kidd had woken up and was yelling, Ministry members held him in a full body-bind hex and they too were yelling his rights—could continue to exist and function when such a tragic event had occurred.

It had begun raining, and Draco heard the raindrops splashing on the roof making ping! pong! sounds. The noise reminded Draco of the spells bouncing off Jean's shield and he shut his eyes. Hermione and Crookshanks had been right next to him when they were behind the couch. He should've grabbed them and left!—he felt Adrian pull up his arm up, and the rest of his body followed suit. Someone wrapped a towel around Crookshanks and another helped Hermione to her feet.

The others didn't seem to understand why they were so distraught over the death of a cat.

He didn't think anyone else could.