The band ICE NINE KILLS owns the italicized words. J.K. Rowling owns all characters, places, etc. that comes from Harry Potter, as well as the stories from The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
I go to bed when I get back to Azkaban. As usual, Hermione's mangled form and glassy eyes plague my dreams. And like every other night, I wake up screaming her name. I don't think I will ever get used to seeing her like that, even if I have that same nightmare for the rest of my life.
Then I have the full day after the trial to waste. What is there to do in a 10x10 stone room, with no company, no books or games, and virtually no furniture? Now you see my dilemma. I spend a good two hours counting the rocks in the ceiling and walls, and I take an hour-long nap. Soon, I expend all my options, and I'm stuck with nothing to do. So far, I've been trying to avoid thinking at all costs, lest it turns to a more…unpleasant direction, but I figure this is probably my last day away from the dementors for a very long time. All I will be able to think about will be the worst times in my life, and I've got no short supply on those. So, for today, I should remember the good times, as cheesy as it sounds. Reminisce while I've still got something pleasant to smile about.
My father had always been adamant against showing emotions that he deemed weak, such as love. The punishments he inflicted when my mother or I displayed such emotion were severe. But when I was eight, my father went on a business trip out of the country, leaving my mother and me alone for several weeks. During that time, my mother had been the most affectionate she had ever been to me during my entire childhood. She sang me to sleep. She ran around in the gardens with me. She read to me silly kids' stories, such as Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump, The Tale of the Three Brothers and The Warlock's Hairy Heart. I had initially figured that my father did not want me to hear these stories because they were so incredibly childish. As I grew older, though, I began to suspect that this was not the case. Babbitty Rabbitty is about a power-hungry king, who ends up being thwarted by a rabbit. Not exactly something you want to tell your kid when you follow Lord Voldemort, king of the power-hungry. The Tale of the Three Brothers teaches that Death cannot be thwarted forever. Well, Lucius Malfoy couldn't let a story put it into his little son's head that even the immortal Dark Lord will be bested by Death!
I didn't start understanding the significance of the third story until I realized my feelings for Hermione Granger. But I don't think I truly appreciated it until now. The Warlock's Hairy Heart is about a handsome warlock who is determined to never fall in love. He uses Dark Arts to ensure he never does. One day, when he hears his servants talking about him lacking a wife, the warlock decides he will find a talented, beautiful and rich witch to marry, so that all will envy him. He quickly finds his target. She is both "fascinated and repelled" by him, but accepts his invitation for dinner at his castle. While they eat, the witch tells the warlock that she needs to know he has a heart. He takes her to the dungeons, and there, in a crystal casket, is a beating hairy heart- his heart. The witch begs him to return it to his chest, and he does as asked. She hugs the warlock. But, being apart from its body for so long, his heart has deteriorated to an animalistic state, acquiring savage tastes. So the warlock is compelled to take by force a truly human heart. He rips the heart from the witch's chest to replace the hairy heart, but finds he cannot use magic to remove his own. He uses a dagger to cut it out of his chest. And that is how both he and the witch die, with both of their hearts in each of his hands.
I think that through these stories, my mother was trying to communicate to me to not follow in my father's footsteps. I identify most with the last story, though. It makes me wonder, had it been too late for me? Despite my mother's warning, I had been enthralled by Dark Arts in my younger years. Maybe my heart was evil, regardless of my love for Hermione. Maybe, it was her closeness to me that got her killed…
No. That's ridiculous. It was her relationship to Chase Miller that killed her. I need to stop thinking about these stories, find something more pleasant to think about.
But what? Recalling any memory with Hermione hurts too much. Thoughts about the times when I'd hang out with friends during Hogwarts remind me that some of them are dead, and the others hate me now. I realize that I don't have many nice memories. I guess I'll take another nap, then.
The next morning, I'm woken up in much the same way as the day of my hearing. I'm startled out of slumber by Baldy and Rusty opening the jail cell door. They cuff me, and then we are off to the sentencing.
Again, the portkey transports us to courtroom ten. There are considerably fewer people in attendance this time, though. I am led to the special chair in the center of the room, which hugs me tightly with its magic chains. Clearwater stands by my side.
Minister Shacklebolt opens the sentencing, but it's Chief Warlock Cicero Vector who addresses my punishment.
"I want to make it plain right now that every one of us on the Council takes our jobs very seriously. We respect the system, as well as those who oversaw Mr. Malfoy's previous trial. Our decision is not based on his past, but on the facts given to us for this case alone. I want that clear to everyone." That is complete bullshit. There was very little against me, only the anonymous note and my presence at the crime scene. No, this decision was based purely on prejudice.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, I sentence you to ten years in Azkaban for the murder of Hermione Jean Granger. You will not be eligible for parole, and you will not receive time away from the dementors. This is the decision of the Court."
Shacklebolt rises as Vector sits. "The Court is adjourned." The sound of the gavel hitting the block reverberates across the room. I'm stunned. Ten years. Ten long years before I can avenge the woman I love.
I don't hear Clearwater's words of comfort; I don't notice being taken out of the room. I barely even feel the effects of the dementors when I am dumped onto the cold floor of my new home. Or at least, not at first.
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I'm six. My father just hit Mother. Why would he do that? I wanna tell him he can't do that to her, but then he'd hurt me too.
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It's second year. I just called Granger a mudblood. I'm pleased that it got to her, but then I see the expression on her face. She looks kind of like Mother does when Father hits her.
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I have Albus Dumbledore cornered. I really don't want to kill him. I don't have to. A flash of green light, and suddenly, he's falling.
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My father has escaped from Azkaban. Voldemort is not happy with him. He tortures my Father.
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The Muggle Studies professor is floating in front of me. The Dark Lord Kills her.
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My aunt Bellatrix is torturing Granger. I hear the screams.
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The war is over. Crabbe is dead.
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Hermione has a new boyfriend
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Hermione is in pain
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Hermione is dead
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"Hello, Draco."
'Who's Draco? Am I Draco?' I wonder.
"Yes, you're Draco. Draco Malfoy. I came by to see how you're holding out. Not good, apparently."
'I said that in my head. Can she read my mind?'
"No Draco, I can't read your mind. You're actually speaking out loud. And you know me. I'm Penelope Clearwater." I look up cautiously.
"My name sounds familiar, doesn't it? Don't worry, I won't hurt you. See this dolphin here? It's a Patronus. It protects us from the dementors, so that we don't have to have those bad thoughts."
I realize I'm lying in a ball on the floor. I try to stand up, but I can't. The lady helps me sit next to the wall. "You've been in here for nine and a half years, Draco. I'm not surprised that you lack the strength to stand."
"Where is here?"
"Azkaban Prison."
"Oh. Am I a bad person?"
"No! You were wrongly accused."
"Why hasn't anyone ever come to see me then?"
"They have. You just don't remember. I have visited you numerous times, and so have your mother, and Harry Potter, and I think Blaise Zabini has as well."
"Why am I here?"
"They think you killed someone."
"But I didn't, right?"
"Right."
"Who do they think I killed?" She looks like she doesn't want to answer.
"Hermione Granger." The name triggers something.
"I remember her!"
"You do?" She looks surprised now.
"Yeah! She was the mudblood bookworm." But I can feel something else in memories clamoring to be known.
"Maybe that's what you thought of her when you were kids, but when you got older, she became so much more."
"Really? What?"
"Well… she became a good friend of yours." Of course! After the war, she was always by my side. I fell in love with her, but never had the guts to tell her. She started dating a guy who turned out to be abusive. He killed Hermione.
"You said I've been in here for nine and a half years, right? How long do I have left?"
"Six months. Just hold tight, alright?" I nod.
Just six months left. I'll be out in six months with his address and a shotgun and a promise for justice that night. I will make him suffer!
'Hear that Hermione? Soon he will pay.'
Hermione had told me about muggle weapons, and they sound so much more satisfying then killing her murderer with a clean Avada Kedavra. Maybe I'll use a gun, although a knife sounds pretty good too. And, coming from a family that was deep into the Dark Arts, I know some of the most disturbing curses and hexes known to wizard-kind. Ah, decisions, decisions.
I hear Clearwater leave. I think that because of my day dreaming, she assumed that I'm not all there. I know I'm not mad though.
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Draco? Draco! I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you! I need you to come over here now! Please! Please help me!
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Listen closely as I tell you I'm not who I seem. I'm gonna touch you cause I like it when you scream. I want to watch you when you're sleeping and thinking of me!
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Hermione's bloody body is lying on the floor.
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That son of a bitch took away my girl.
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I will tear him apart.
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Rip him limb from limb.
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Gouge out his eyes.
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Turn his skin inside out.
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Burn him with Everlasting Fire.
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Beat him to the brink of death.
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Who was it that killed her?
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I remember the name Draco. Was it him?
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A girl with a mane of brown hair hugs a boy with shocking blond hair.
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He attacks her and tears out her heart.
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He flicks his wand, but nothing happens.
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Another flick, and there's a dagger in his hand.
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He cuts out his own heart.
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He's lying next to the girl, a heart in each hand.
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Wait, I think I'm that boy.
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Am I dead?
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Or am I still breathing?