Disclaimer: I only own the plot, characters belong to J.K. Rowling
Essays (Part Three)
xXx
To say that my last year at Hogwarts was but a little uncomfortable is like saying the blast-ended skrewt I encountered in Fourth Year was friendly.
A recap might be useful. It was the night of the summer solstice, before our seventh year. We had all been quarrelling at the kitchen table of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place…
x
"Absolutely not. Those three are not to be allowed out of the house," Moody barked for the third time.
Harry stood and placed his hands firmly on the table, retorting angrily, "And why not?"
"You might think that you can do it all, Potter, but you're still a kid."
"I'm almost seventeen, almost an adult," Harry argued. "Stop treating me like a kid, because no kid's ever gone through the stuff I have."
"Harry—" Lupin interjected, trying to reason with him, but was cut off by Moody's increasing snarls.
"You've gotten lucky each time, but when do you think that luck's going to run out? I'll not have you die by a stray hex or falling right into a Death Eater's lap, boy."
The younger boy's lips were pulled into a grim line. "Well, they can't kill me, remember? The prophecy says that one of us has got to kill the other, doesn't it? So I'll be safe from the Death Eaters."
Moody stood to his full height and glared dangerously at Harry. "Oh? But you don't think they'll resort to dark curses to immobilize you so that they can torture you until they bring you to You-Know-Who, who in turn, will get his chance to tear your intestines apart and feast on them for lunch?"
Ron and I looked at each other and grimaced at the graphic description.
"C'mon, Harry," Tonks put in, "We need you too much to lose you. Kids like you guys have no place in a war like this. You'd be the first to get targeted and the easiest to kill."
Harry continued to bite back, completely unfazed.
"But at least I stand a chance! I'm not a helpless, clueless brat who's going to fall straight into the hands of Volde—"
"DON'T," Moody roared, cutting Harry off, "SAY HIS NAME, BOY."
"Why not?" Harry lashed back. "I'm not afraid of that coward, and I'm sure as hell not afraid to use his name."
"This just goes to prove how insolent you are," the elder Auror said furiously. "You just don't understand the unmentionable, do you? They've placed a taboo on his name so that they can track us here if we use his name. It's hard enough getting in and out of this dump without attracting attention that we don't need the burden of hundreds of Death Eaters gathering outside our door on our plate."
"Oh? But why should it matter, as no one but us know the location of this decrepit—"
Knock, knock, knock.
We all froze, and Moody's eye immediately swung to the door.
Harry, momentarily stunned, stammered out, "I-I didn't say his name yet."
"D'ya really think Death Eaters would bother knocking?" Mood growled. "It's that Malfoy kid."
Instantaneously, a wand appeared in each person's hand, pointed straight at the door.
"He's got nothin' with him, not even his wand. Seems vulnerable enough, but I don't trust this kid as far as I can see, and that's plenty far. If he doesn't explain himself within the first thirty seconds, stun him."
From my peripheral view, I could see Ron's eyes light up at the prospect, and I bit back a reprove.
With a toss of the wrist, the door flew open, and there stood Malfoy, drenched to his skin from the pouring thunderstorm outside. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak.
"I—", he began uncertainly. He looked at me with wide, anxious eyes, and I understood. After giving him a slight reassuring nod, he continued. "I—I know some things that may be useful."
Silence.
"Malfoy—Draco," Lupin said slowly, breaking the apprehensive hush that had followed his declaration, "You have to understand that even in good intentions, we have license to neither trust nor believe you."
"Let him in." Shocked, we all turned to face the portrait hanging on the east wall. An extra portrait of Dumbledore had been commissioned to hang in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, but he spent most of his time in his Hogwarts portrait, overseeing the school. It was a rare surprise to have him visit the portrait here.
"I'm sorry, what?" Professor McGonagall asked, the disbelief written across her face.
"Let him in and allow him to tell you his story before you judge him." Dumbledore peered at Malfoy over him half-moon glasses. "If I'm not mistaken, this is an indication that Severus has finally passed on, is it not?"
Dazedly, our gazes circled back to Malfoy, who was still standing on the porch, raindrops trickling from his eyelashes every time he blinked. Soundlessly, he nodded.
"Then let him in," Dumbledore repeated. It was Mrs. Weasley who made the first move, rushing into the kitchen and back out with a large, feathery towel.
"Come in, dear, and have a seat."
This snapped everyone out of the strange stupor, and the household was once more bustling with activity. Once we had gotten Malfoy dried off and everyone else seated, he began to recount his tale.
"He found us out. Professor Snape may have been an accomplished Occlumens, but I wasn't. I was still shaken up by the events of that night, and the Dark Lord threw me off. I couldn't bring my defenses up fast enough, and he attacked my mind. There had been a few things that Snape had let slip in our conversations, and the Dark Lord caught them. The next fifteen days were incessant torture for me and Professor Snape. Snape planned out an escape for me and told me to come to this place, as he was a secret-keeper to the house."
Ah, so that was how he had found his way here.
"Snape knew that he wouldn't make it out alive, so he sacrificed himself as a means of a getaway for me. I don't know how much I can offer, but I was well-informed enough to have a bounty placed on my head." Nervously, he glanced in the direction of the door.
"Did anyone track you?" Moody asked sharply.
Malfoy shook his head. "Snape told me to break my wand the minute I Apparated, so any magic I'd done in the past five minutes would have been erased and untraceable."
And that explained the lack of a wand.
The rest of the night followed in the same manner, with harsh inquisition, a couple of drops of Veritaserum every now and then, and some memories viewed in an old Pensieve. It was nearing dawn by the time we had finished. The Weasley children had already fallen asleep, sprawled across the couch, and Lupin looked even wearier than usual for a werewolf. Even Moody's growls had lost their gruffness.
Malfoy took Sirius's old bedroom at the unexpected suggestion from Harry. The only person who disagreed was Mrs. Weasley, who claimed she had not yet cleaned out Sirius's room and that he was going to die from inhaling an inordinate amount of dust there.
He caught me on the way up and stopped me. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For keeping your word."
"About?"
"The door always being open. Granted, the door wasn't actually open, but Moody helped with that bit with his wand." He gave me a wry smile.
I concealed my surprise at his cordial, almost sociable manner. "Moody's a generally helpful person once you get to know him." I cocked my head and looked at him appraisingly. "So are you going to stick with us?"
He gazed at me seriously. "I can promise you that I'll do whatever it takes to get to the end."
"That's a vague answer for someone who claims he wants our trust."
"It's an honest answer."
"Malfoy."
"Granger."
"I'm serious."
"As am I."
I frowned at him. "You have to know the weight you bear on your shoulders now. If you defect back, or if you're being an extremely good liar to us, the world will only result in mass chaos and despair. You-Know-Who doesn't have a logical or stable enough mind to even contemplate the consequences of world dominance."
"I know what I'm doing, Granger. Have a little faith." With that, he turned and continued up the stairs, leaving me to remain highly suspicious and a bit troubled at his words.
x
Over the course of the summer, the members of the Order had gradually accepted Malfoy on civil, even friendly terms. Malfoy and I never did discuss our previous engagements, but they always came to mind whenever we bumped into each other and occupied ourselves with a conversation. I discovered that he was an invigorating, witty, and cynical conversationalist, and that it was more than likely Malfoy who kept me sane in the long, tedious hours spent inside the cramped, dull house.
Perhaps it was the very notion that I was mildly close with Malfoy that made the news so severe. Then again, the news didn't seem to strike the others' fancy either.
X
The door swung open and slammed along the wall, awakening Walburga Black and inciting her usual mantra of "FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS" and "LEWD MUDBLOODS" soiling the already grimy carpets of her ancestral home. After loudly cursing and ripping the curtains across the face of the portrait, Moody sauntered into the kitchen, where the remaining members of the Order quickly followed.
"Uncooperative, unqualified, untrained, kid…"
"What happened?" Harry's eyes danced restlessly behind his spectacles
Moody's gaze shifted to Shacklebolt's, and Kingsley subtly shook his head. "Not now, kid. Now get." He shoo'ed us unceremoniously out of the kitchen and charmed the door shut with a resounding thump.
The three of us stared at each other, befuddled, until Ron grinned and pulled an Extendable Ear out of his pocket.
"I knew it was a good idea to swipe one of these." Before he could say anything else, I snatched the ear from his hand and placed it on the door, motioning for the boys, who were arguing the unfairness of the situation, to be quiet.
"…Malfoy kid…went in without…disobeyed…wouldn't wait…too late…"
"…trust him?...leak information…big disaster…"
"…deceive?…after everything we've…Death Eater…"
I pulled back, stunned. Ron and Harry dove for the Extendable Ear, fighting over the earpiece, while I backed away. Though I couldn't say I was completely shocked, I sure hadn't expected that. After the month we'd spent with Malfoy, I thought he had changed. I had seen a side of him never before exposed to the world, and I had liked that side. I guess some things were too good to be true…
X
The final confrontation happened, ironically, on Harry's birthday. The night before, we had found and destroyed the fifth horcrux, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. Harry had been in a hurry to discover the sixth and seventh horcruxes, one of which he believed to be Voldemort, himself. In hopes to accidentally stumble across the seventh horcrux, we ventured to Godric's Hollow on the eve of his birthday alone.
What a ridiculously stupid thing to do.
The second we set foot upon Harry's former residence, I felt a tingle run up my spine, and suddenly, we were surrounded by nameless figures clad in long, flowing black cloaks. Death Eaters, of course.
I tried to Apparate out, but an insistent tug of magic prevented me from doing so, and from the alarmed looks on Ron's and Harry's faces, they had just realized the same. We were trapped. I slipped my hand inside my cloak and pressed my thumb against a lone Galleon that resided in my pocket, which alerted all the other members of the Order that we were at serious risk of death, but I knew that by the time the others arrived, we would all be dead or kidnapped.
"Well, well, if it isn't our favorite triplet." A cold voice pierced the air, and I instantly recognized it as the Lucius Malfoy's. This fact served to plummet my already receding hope of getting out alive.
"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry snarled.
"Manners, boy, or must I teach you some?"
"Fuck you, Mister Malfoy."
Malfoy's eyes glistened with fire. "Crucio."
Ron's hand clenched mine to keep me from taking out my wand and cursing Lucius Malfoy to the end of his wit. I shut my eyes tightly and attempted to drown out the screams of agony being resonating from Harry's throat. I knew if I opened my eyes, I would only lose it all, and these circumstances didn't exactly provide the most appropriate place for a mental breakdown.
"Malfoy."
The chilling, unfamiliar tone rang through the air, and my eyes sprung open. I had never met nor heard his voice before in my life, but with the amount of malice laced in his quiet declaration, I knew it could only be one person. Immediately the screaming stopped as Lucius abruptly cut off the spell and knelt down before a form dressed in a particularly darker shade of black than the rest, if that was even possible.
"My Lord, I apologize."
I wanted to scoff at the irony of Lucius Malfoy letting his precious, pricey cloak touch the very dirt upon where he mocked my blood and lineage from. Then again, the goal of the situation was getting out alive, not provoking the others into bestowing upon me an early death.
"He was mine. You were not to touch him."
A fearful silence settled in the air. I could hear the almost-hidden tremor in Malfoy's voice as he replied, "F-forgive me, my Lord. I only meant to break him in for you."
"You forget, Malfoy; Forgiveness is a weakness. Crucio." I strained my ears to hear Voldemort's next words, for he continued to speak in the same, soft, dangerous tone even as Lucius continued to shriek in pain. "Break him in? Is he some toy to be played with? Did you not think of the consequences if you had broken him in too far? He is to be clean and freshly presented to me. You had no right to interfere with what is mine."
With a flick of his wrist, he ended the curse, and Lucius's cries became faint moans. "Now, Potter. This is the last time we shall meet; I swear it by my soul." He paused and chuckled, an eerie, unpleasant sound coming from the unstable adversary. "Or at least, I swear by one of my souls."
Harry wiped the trickling blood from his lower lip. "Yeah, because I'll never have to think about your pathetic existence after I kick your cold, dead body over. And you know what? This time, it'll be for good." He reached into his robes, pulled out Ravenclaw's old, gleaming diamond diadem, and threw it at Voldemort's feet. His eyes widened in momentary shock, but the astonishment was quickly replaced with glittering anger.
"You've not found the last two, have you? Even your little Mudblood friend won't be able to help you figure those out. I, however, have my own informant, who knows where you'll be searching for them. I'm quite fortunate to have him, as he gave me the precise location you'd be tonight. I believe I shall reward him with the pleasure of killing your pitiable companions while you watch." His lip curled into a terrible sneer. "Malfoy."
The blond on the ground struggled to speak. "Y-yes, my Lord?"
Voldemort's eyes flashed disdainfully at the body on the ground. "Not you, you fool. Your son."
I heard Ron's painful grunt as I dug my fingernails deeper into his palm. No. Not him.
"Draco Malfoy."
No.
No.
Silence.
"Looking for me?" From the looming, dark skies, a figure on a broomstick descended, floating lazily above our heads. All of a sudden, about fifty jets of red and blue shot out from behind us. I was about to react with my own set of jinxes when I saw that all the hexes and spells had hit the Death Eaters, who crumpled to the ground. Ah, so the Order had finally decided to arrive and save our arses. The remaining standing Death Eaters had made quick work of their wands and threw curses in retaliation. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry look up at Draco with a deep vengeance, holding his wand up to the blond, more than likely to do something worse than shoot a rainbow from the tip of his wand.
"Harry, no!" I leapt on Harry and caused him to fall over, sending an angry purple stream of light in the direction of a Death Eater, who howled in pain as he was knocked off his feet and sent flying a good fifteen yards into the distance.
"What're you doing, Hermione?" Harry hissed at me furiously.
I ducked as another spell came soaring our way. "Don't hit him. He's not our enemy."
"Yeah, but he's not our ally either, is he?"
He made to get up, but I held him down again as another blue streak passed over our heads. "Just don't hurt him. At least not until we know for sure who he's fighting for." At Harry's uncertain look, I added, "Please?"
He was tensed for a moment. "Fine." After I released him and got back up, I realized that the Order had finally revealed itself from the shadows and that the battle was beginning to get vicious. I thought I saw a mop of red hair somewhere between a pair of legs, but it was soon out of my view, and I couldn't get a better look.
As the fight continued, I remembered there came a point when Draco appeared out of nowhere with Nagini floating in a transparent sphere. The jet fires stopped momentarily as everyone stared upwards. Crimson ooze began to collect at the bottom of the sphere and the snake started to writhe, causing red droplets to splatter throughout the clear globe. A sharp cry of distress broke through, and all eyes were riveted on Voldemort, who had fallen to his knees, clutching his chest.
"How does it feel, Riddle, to die? It's a pain much worse than ripping your soul in half, isn't it? It's all about sacrifice." His grey eyes flickered towards Harry but returned to the thrashing snake as the apparent sixth horcrux finally met its death.
Then, a tremendous weight of energy flew emanated from Voldemort, knocking everyone down. With a murderous glint in his eye, he strode through the field in the direction of the fallen Draco Malfoy.
"You're but a fool, like your father."
"I am not," Malfoy spat, "my father." He threw a curse at Voldemort, but it was quickly deflected onto nearby ground, leaving the grass burnt and charred.
"It matters not. He shall meet the same end as you, for being an incompetent imbecile."
Malfoy spat blood dripping from his swollen lip to the side. "Then you should be destined for the same fate, seeing as you and I are so alike."
"Avada Kedavra."
"No!" The word that I thought that had been torn from my throat came from Harry, who dove in front of Malfoy at the last second, taking the impact of the curse.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, an eruption of cheers and moans. I scrambled to my feet and fell besides Harry, shaking his shoulders.
No…
My eyes became blurred as I shook his cold, lifeless form harder; then I felt arms wrap around mine.
"Let go."
I obeyed, though I should've been pushing away. I felt those arms leading me away, and through my hazy vision, I could see a mob of black approach Harry.
What happened next was pretty much all a blur to me. One second, Harry was being heaved into the air and tossed around like some sort of sick trophy. The next, he had disappeared. The crowd of victorious Death Eaters had instantly stopped and whirled around, confused and upset. Then, a single clear shout of "Avada Kedavra!" cut through the air.
It met its mark.
Shock, bewilderment, and fury were all imprinted on his face as Voldemort collapsed. After a moment of shock, a chorus of stunning spells rang out from those who were astonished but had the quick wit to prevent the Death Eaters from escaping. Harry emerged from where he had been standing in the darkness, fully corporeal and alive.
He told us later that Voldemort had unknowingly made an eighth horcrux when he had tried to kill one-year-old Harry, as a piece of Voldemort's soul had latched onto Harry's after the Killing Curse had rebounded off of Harry, and that by sacrificing himself, he had earned himself a chance to come back to life, this time without Voldemort's soul with him. Then, of course, the horcrux Voldemort had placed within himself had been destroyed.
When we asked him how he knew all of this, he spewed some gibberish about meeting Dumbledore at King's Cross. We all concluded he had probably suffered some brain injury when he had been "struck dead." Malfoy, on the other hand, had nodded along almost knowingly.
Malfoy. That traitorous, manipulative bastard. After everything had been cleared up and the hype had died down, Malfoy found himself to be nonexistent to me. Why? Actually, I had no valid reason, but I wasn't about to reason with myself about that. No, I told myself that he had deceived us, even if it had been for the better. I had opened the door for him (well, no, actually Moody did, but that's beside the point), taken him in (again, Molly's doing, but you get the point), and befriended him (that I did. Kind of.) And what did he do? Run off to the Death Eaters without telling any of us and took on his own plan.
In truth, the Death Eaters had been lodging in a secret part of Hogwarts, and Draco had been surreptitiously sneaking away from the Death Eaters to converse with Dumbledore's portrait, which had enlightened him on everything and helped him plan the final attack.
That still didn't change the fact that Malfoy had completely disregarded the…thing we had. Whatever it was, he took the trust we had given him, that I had given him, and used it to his own will and way. Granted, it had turned out well in the end, but that didn't change the fact that it could have all gone wrong because he wouldn't tell anyone anything.
Honestly, it was because I felt that I had been taken for granted and had ended up looking and feeling like a complete idiot for thinking that there was a semblance of something between us. After all, I was still a regular teenage girl with regular teenage hormones.
It seemed that everyone eventually conceded and forgave him, and civility returned to things, bordering on affability with the close members of the Order. Everyone except me, that is. Assuming that I had been emotionally scorned, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, no? I refused to talk to him and minimized eye contact all summer. I thought when Hogwarts came around, I'd finally be able to avoid him with more ease because I was Head Girl. Of course, fate likes to be screwy and who else but Malfoy ended up with Head Boy?
I would've argued the decision, but Malfoy had been given the position more out of regard to his safety than for his qualifications. Hogwarts had kept to the tradition of the four houses, obviously not learning the lesson that Slytherin may churn out suspicious characters, and if Malfoy had lived in the Slytherin dorm, his wellbeing would be in higher risk considering children of convicted Death Eaters would still be attending the school.
That's beside the point. The point was, I was stuck with this frustrating piece of work that would not leave me alone. I tried my hardest to disregard him, and I found myself avoiding the library at all costs. Each time I had an essay assigned, I holed up in my dorm, rushing to finish it so there would be no chance for any…incidents to happen. The enjoyment I used to get out of gaining new knowledge from research was lost in the resentment of my memories. It was cruel, almost, as every essay and every quill sparked a recollection of our late night meetings. Yes, there was no doubt about it. I absolutely and completely abhorred essays.
And yet he wouldn't let up. I repudiated all attempts of conversation, even when he sent me flowers, chocolates, and a discomforting and very public apology for misusing my trust during dinner. It might seem cruel to deny forgiveness to such pathetic groveling, but I wasn't one to follow guidelines just because everyone expected me to.
Ultimately, we reached the climax of the increasing tension between us.
I was in the private common room in the Heads' dorm working on an essay for my muggle studies on religion. More specifically, the topic of interest was how forgiveness was perceived in different faiths. Ironic, no?
The entrance swung open and the other Head stepped in. I quickly gathered my belongings to move my studying into my room. Before I could take a step towards my dorm, though, a hand reached out and caught my arm, causing my parchment, books, and quill to fall.
"You seem awfully rushed," he remarked. "In a hurry to do something?"
"Getting away from you," I quipped.
"Something important?"
"Getting away from you."
He sighed. "Can't we talk, Granger?"
"I have an essay to write, Malfoy. Chatting with an ex-Death Eater is not one of the priorities in my life at the moment, thanks."
"Then can you at least answer a few questions for me? Write your essay, do whatever, but just help me out."
I gazed longingly at the privacy of my dorm where my cowardice beckoned to me, but one glance at Malfoy's pitiable pleading look had me heaving a great sigh, flopping back down on the couch, and picking up my effects from the ground. Retrieving my parchment, I dipped my quill and began to write.
Forgiveness…
No. It was too clichéd to start out that way.
All over the world, there was one virtue that rested among…
"Okay, Granger, I've apologized six million times. At least. What's stopping you from talking to me?"
"I'm talking to you right now. What more do you want?"
No, that was still a terrible introduction sentence.
Muggle, wizard, witch, or inhuman being; it mattered not what or who you were, as long as…
No, no…
"Why are you like this? We could actually hold a conversation before this. I still remember because I enjoyed them. What's happened that's changed since then?"
Was he serious? "You mean besides your betrayal? Your little scheme that you told no one of? Many people could've died because of the way you handled that if we hadn't been so lucky!"
He shook his head. "Not that. Everyone else has let that go. You're not upset over that."
"I am."
"You are not."
"I am."
"You are not."
"I am."
He gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, will you just tell me what your goddamned problem is?"
"Look, Malfoy, I really don't want to talk about this. Can't you just leave me alone?" I returned to my essay once more—my now modified essay.
Forgivenessis a virtue of only the bravest witches and wizards.
I glared at him.
He answered with a raised, expectant eyebrow.
I narrowed my eyes further.
He held up his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine, if what you want is for me to leave you alone—"
"Oh, you catch on quick, don't you?"
"—humor me first. Just answer the question."
"Oh holy hell. I think being an evil Death Eater takes its toll on you. Having hearing issues of late?" I rejoined, annoyed. "Go. Away."
He gave me a long look. "You know what? Forget it, Granger. You're never going to change." He straightened up and made to leave.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. What?
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said forget it, Granger. Just, whatever." He gave me a dismissive wave and turned around. Oh no he didn't. You can insult me all you want, but you do not act as if you're better than me.
"Fine." I hoped that the pseudo calmness in my voice concealed the mounting anger I was feeling. "You want to know what my problem is? It's you. It's you and the pain and humiliation and frustration and worry and everything you've ever done to me." I stood up and moved away from the table to his side. "I hate you, Malfoy. I hate you so much you couldn't even fathom how much I hate you, so why don't you just take it at face value and leave me the hell alone?"
He looked a bit surprised at my outburst. "I—"
"And while we're at it, you can take back your flowers, chocolates and other crap that's been filling up my room, because I've run out of places to stuff them, and they don't bloody burn when I set fire to—"
I was rudely interrupted when he pressed his lips to mine.
After he broke the kiss, I stared back at him, bewildered. "What was that?"
"Something to shut you up with."
"Oh, you impudent little—"
Whatever thought I had been ready to voice quickly disappeared when he employed his tactic to shush me once more. Dang, he's a good kisser.
I pushed him away. "Will you stop?"
"Just as long as you stop pushing me away and give me a chance."
"Fine." Wait, what? "No, of course not!"
Shoot. I quickly diverted my eyes to the desk in an attempt to regain my logic and common sense, but not before I caught a lilting smirk tracing his lips. Stupid git with his stupid designer robes and stupid Italian shoes with that stupid blond hair and stupid grey eyes and stupid good looks.
"So Hogsmeade this Saturday?"
Stupid charm. I sighed. It was okay to give in every once in awhile, right?
"One condition."
"What?"
"You owe me seven rolls of parchment. One for every year you ruined my essay."
His response was a laugh and another kiss.
Maybe essays weren't so bad after all.
And that's Part Three, summarizing the Seventh Year!
Whew. So sorry about that wait again, and sorry for the weak ending. The original ending was written on plane at 3:30 in the morning. So I kept revising it and re-revising it until I ended with something manageable, though not too agreeable, but trust me, it was a lot better than the first ending. And the second. And the third.
BUT. That's the longest story I've written. So, make me happy and...
Read&&Review!
lazer-angel