Left the only worries I had in my hands,
Away from the light in my eyes.
Holding tight and try not to hide how I feel.
'Cause feelings mean nothing now -
All those feelings, those yesterdays feelings will all be lost in time.
But today I've wasted away, for today is on my mind.
- Yesterday's Feelings, The Used
You know those moments in your life where when something initially happened, it happened so vividly? And yet come time to recall that memory, it all seems such a blur?
Right now, that very feeling is just hitting me as I flicker my tired eyes open to witness Andrea standing in my bedroom. She's opening the curtains to this Sunday morning, and when my stomach fills immediately with anxiety and dread, I fathom fully that I told her.
Yesterday as promised, I explained everything to Andrea about my secret life, and I mean - Every. Single. Thing.
The conversation in a nutshell went a little something like this; Andrea gushing nonstop about how amazing I am, or how much I've been through, and "Oh my god!" about a thousand times.
I blushed as we sat in our little booth, and let the news sink in as I watched people walk down the streets outside. The sun had started to set, and most of the people milling around were just getting ready for some weekend fun.
I, on the other hand, was left to bare my life story inside, in intimate discretion. The thing is, I literally told her every aspect, every tiny point I can remember from the moment I found out I was a witch at age 11, up until 4 pm yesterday when Malfoy left the house. I don't think there was a single minute detail left out.
And let me tell you, once you start talking about something you've hidden for such a long period of time, you just can't stop. I wasn't planning on letting all the facts of my personal life out in the open, but for some reason the words kept pouring out. It felt in that moment like a weight had been lifted slightly out of my chest, although I think I may have permanently damaged Andrea's perception of me.
I'm trying to remember it, and I wonder if I told her too much. Too late now I suppose….
"You're ready to talk, Hermione?" she replied to me surprised, gazing up at my no doubt anxiety filled expression.
"Yes," I breathed, and slumped into the booth, taking a deep breathe to calm myself.
"You look mighty nervous." She chuckled.
Oh, if she only knew what she was about to get into.
"That's because I am, quite frankly." Her smile faltered when I said it, I suppose she was expecting something fairly light.
"Andrea?"
"Yes dear?" I raised my eyes to level with her composed green ones, feeling as if I was about to drop a bomb…
"I'm a –I'm - you know how me and my parents have been quite wacky with contacting you and the family these past few years?"
I couldn't say it right away, I was far too nervous. Generally, I find myself able to explain myself coherently but this is someone I care for, someone I had lied to and hid secrets from. Yet she loves me all the same unsuspecting, which makes the matter much harder.
"Well, yes, now you mention it," she replied. "It was so odd of them to go off to Melbourne for no rhyme or reason while you went away to school. And I feel as if every time I see you guys you are anxious about something, like a problem is lurking around that you don't want to discuss…but what does all this have to do with liking a boy?" she laughed again.
"Andrea," I sighed, "In order for you to understand why everything is so complicated to me and not to you, at least on the outside, about the nature of Malfoy and I's relationship, I need to tell you something that – that I, we've, hidden from you since I was 11."
Her eyes widened. "Eleven? Did something happen, Hermione? With a boy? With him? Did you get abused? Please tell me, please!" She grabbed my hands, rubbing them in a comforting way.
"Oh, something happened alright," I almost laughed, dropping our hands to the table. "Not what you think, though. Let me warn you now, you probably won't believe me. So prepare."
"What is it?"
One more deep inhale. "Andrea, I wrote those e-mails and letters telling everyone Mum & Dad were in Australia while I was at school. The truth is, that I'm – Andrea, I'm a witch. I can do magic."
Her jaw dropped agape slightly, her grip slackened on my palms as her expression turned to one of skepticism, raised eyebrows and an audible unbelieving laugh. But of course she paused for a moment with wide eyes when I pulled out my wand.
"Here, just - This is my wand. I use it to do all my, erm, spells. Magic spells. Here watch. I'll demonstrate."
I used Wingardium Leviosa nervously to make a cupcake float. As the incantation left my lips, her face remained the exact same save for even wider eyes that became fascinated; and stunned silence is not a common occurrence for Andrea.
Then, finally;
"That. Is so…COOL!"
"What?" She looked positively awestruck. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lenora smiling, peeking at us from behind her azaleas.
"How come you hid that from me for so long! OH MY GOD," she dramatically lowered her voice, "I'm so sorry! What if the owner saw that?" she whispered, scanning for the shopkeeper who was unbeknownst to her, the instigator.
The relief that she wasn't angry or scared made my mood dip 180 degrees, a crescendo of glee, and I let out a long giggle until I could compose myself long enough to explain that Lenora too was a witch.
"You mean, anyone can be a witch?"
"Well, no, it's something that you are born with, but wizards can sometimes skip generations without a single magical family member, so I guess great-great grandmother was magic or something…"
"That is so freaking…mind- boggling! Geez I am at a loss for words. Like, I have so many questions."
"I knew you would, and I'll try as best I can to answer them. I'm just so glad you aren't angry."
"ANGRY? Pshh! I used to be Wiccan, dude. Ok, so for like a month, but I just knew there had to be something crazy out there! Why would history have so much evidence? Okay, okay, okay," She was practically hysterical. "Like, what kind of spells can you do exactly? Are there other mythical beings out there? And are witches and things just waltzing around all over the place? Is your Mum a witch? Oh, wait you said it skipped generations….so is Malfoy a witch too, then? Wait, no that doesn't sound male…"
And on and on the questions went. I explained all the magical basics that I learned when I was a young witch, promising to lend her Hogwarts: A History among others. I told her about Diagon Alley, Hogwarts of course, and Wizard England and Europe. I was attempting to clarify how society works, almost primitive in some ways that differ a lot from Muggles.
And then I told her about Voldemort.
"Geez, so magic is really temperamental….and dangerous! I mean, a love potion? That's like a date-rape waiting to happen…And killing curses?" As she said this I knew I had to explain Voldemort, but again, I didn't know how she'd react. Magic is one thing, blocking curses another, but would she be frightened, had she fully grasped the fact that wizards could be a real threat?
"Yes, it's the equivalent of drugs and guns, really. I mean, most people don't use them. Now, this is where it kind of gets a bit…complicated. I explained that Malfoy is rich last night, yes?"
"Ooh, yes, oh I forgot about him! And now it's complicated? Holy lord, woman. So he's a wizard, and it was obvious he's rich…but what's the problem with him being wealthy?"
"The problem is not that he's rich necessarily, it's that he's a pureblood. That means his entire family are magical. And as you can see…I am not pure."
"But…why does that matter?"
"It's difficult to explain. It would be like upper and lower class. But harsher. It's almost like white supremacy, Andrea. It's blatant prejudice what most of these people churn. Malfoy hated me, and maybe still does, because I'm what they call a 'mudblood'. To be honest, I think he was just jealous that I was better than him in class, and because I was friends with Harry and he couldn't be…and I hope that it's something he learned from his horrible, awful family. I just…why the hell am I attracted to him?"
"Every wizard treats you badly because you don't come from a family of wizards?"
"No, no, just most rich purebloods, the aristocracy. They're mostly awful, they have a lot of control on political matters because of their ability to bribe and here, really. If I were to ever begin a relationship though, his family no doubt would hate me." Or maybe they'd love that 'famous' Hermione Granger might save their reputation, ugh!
"He let up on it a few years ago, he became involved in things he couldn't handle…and now this erm,thing I'm about to tell you is probably the most complicating aspect of everything concerning my life in context; may take a while for you to drink it all in."
She said nothing, very attentive. So I continued;
"Last year a war broke out between everyone in the wizarding world and this one tyrant and his followers…his name was Voldemort." Andrea snickered but quickly refrained once she saw how serious I was.
"I know his name is odd, but, oh lord, okay. My friend Harry is the most famous wizard probably in the world, Harry Potter. The reason for this is he's the only person ever to live that survived the killing curse, Avada Kedavra…And who casted but Voldemort himself, when Harry was a baby of 1."
More jaw dropping.
"Yes, I think here we have disgusting criminals…. Because of that incident he's had to deal with, well shit from the public, his whole life. It turns out Voldemort marked him as his enemy due to a prophecy, just don't ask yet," I raise my hand as she opened her mouth for more interrogation. "And so Voldemort was dead, only he wasn't because he sealed his soul into fragments, again, I'll explain in a moment. Now that he was strong again, when we were 11, he fled to kill hi. It took 6 years to figure out that if Harry won, killed him for good, the whole world would be saved….but if not, if he had died for real, Muggles, so you, and me because of blood, would be slaves. Any wizards who refused to serve would be killed, and only purebloods descended or in Slytherin house, which as I explained was a section of my school, Hogwarts, would survive as accomplices, probably under strict servitude until Voldemort managed to be killed. It would've been like Europe if Hitler had won the war, but it would affect the entire planet not just wizards."
"I – I don't quite- "
"The point is, Harry, my other friend Ron and I have been friends since we were eleven, and last year we were on the run trying to figure out how to destroy Voldemort. I didn't go to school, I was a wanted fugitive. The ministry was overrun by his power, and to keep them safe I made Mum and Dad believe they wanted to be in Australia. And…you have to promise you won't tell them, I'm begging you, please."
"Tell them what, I cross my heart!" Her hand was clasping mine again.
"I modified their memories to think I didn't exist. So nobody would come to get information about me and torture it out of them because they wouldn't know who I am, they'd have nothing to give. And when I found them again, we won after all, I made them think I was with a lot of adult protection, and that a gun killed Voldemort, not Harry, who is the bravest soul I've ever known. They don't know the level of involvement I had with everything because they couldn't know. It was too important and confidential. And I can tell you know because it's all over. It's…over."
I hadn't realized I was looking down but when I looked up, adulation and a little speck of tears were on Andrea's face.
She started to cry because she felt so bad that she couldn't help me through everything, and so I spent the next half hour reassuring her I was okay now, and to be honest the fact that I am even worrying about boys instead of how to avoid killers was a sign I am relatively back to normal.
Then the meat of the conversation started. I indulged her on things I've never even begun to discuss with Ginny. I told her all the things Harry, Ron and I did, separate and together; from the dangerous and illegal to the intimate and frightful. I told her how I feel about Ron, felt about Viktor, in immense detail, something I can't do with Gin or Harry, and furthering the conversation on how conflicted I've been feeling about Malfoy. I told her all the evil things he's done, to me and to my friends. All the bad experiences we've been through, and how now that everything is over, and I have different feelings blooming, my head's in a tizzy over it.
She even knows that I've seen him naked, too, oh god. And that he kissed me.
It was honestly the most intense conversation that I've ever had, it was the conversation that I lacked when I went out with Ron, because I was able to cleanse my soul and let my heart come out in the open the way I had so wanted to with him.
At the same time, it was one of the best I've ever had because I for once let somebody else judge me completely and wholly, let someone in and understand me better instead of being afraid of criticism. And it was such a relief having someone listen to me be crazy instead of attempting to be level-headed every single second.
After Andrea got over the fact that I was a 'saviour', and believe me it took about a good hour to calm her down, she really gave me some good advice about my current problems.
I realized while talking about my relationships that I'm simply scared to let myself lose control, because I need it, I crave it. I need to feel like I'm on top of every aspect of what Ican have power over. It's why Ron and I were so tentative for 6 long years, it's why I couldn't just let myself have sex with him, because I did feel out of my element, Ron was right. If I feel uncomfortable or unfamiliar with something I feel inadequate. If I let myself go, I leave myself open for criticism, and I work so hard to be good at everything, that I don't want to fail. Ever.
I have never been open for interpretation and I want to project a certain image of intelligence. Always. I guess everyone already knows that…but sometimes I do wonder if Harry or Ron know just how insecure I can be.
It's like this; when I found out I was a witch I was absolutely determined to prove myself to my classmates because I knew there weren't going to be many wizards like me. Muggleborn. And I had been made fun of all my life for being smart and, ahem, showing it, but somehow this didn't seem the same to me. What if all the wizard children were like me? And of course they weren't, and of course I wasn't even in Ravenclaw, but regardless, I think I proved my worth. "Brightest Witch of the Age". Ha.
Anyways, so you have me on the 'good' side with Harry who if anything should be considered the most Selfless Wizard of All Time. And Ron, who is the most loyal, most – most -, oh god, when I think about it it makes me sick. He's the greatest friend anyone could ask for, and I had him.
Had him in my grasp, and I very easily could have it all again. So why do I like Malfoy all of a sudden? According to Andrea, it's cause Malfoy drives me crazy.
"You don't want to like him because your friends hate him, because he's been a jerk and unchanged for so long that it makes you feel almost dirty, ill even, to be attracted to somebody like that. It's almost forbidden, the smart one and the bad boy. The perpetual bad boy. But it's so mystifying to see him acting differently towards you that you want to discover more, yet you don't want to be judged in the happenstance that something good will come of your relationship because you're afraid you will be, with good reason, shunned by your friends that you've clearly been through everything with. Your friends will think you're crazy and foolish."
She put it perfectly. The tension between Malfoy and I kills me the same way it did with Ron when I never opened my mouth to tell him how I feel. I so wanted him to be the first one to give in to it, so I could know for sure. And this time I don't even know if I have a chance in hell because this is an unnatural pairing we're talking about here, Malfoy and I. But the fact remains that he kissed me. And I need to be able to ask him about it. I need to be vulnerable, but I don't know if I can.
I mean, when I kissed Ron, even if it was in the midst of battle, I felt every single fibre of stress leave my body, and I felt like I could take on the world and win with him by my side. But that's because I was in love with him, I wanted him for so long.
And look what happened. We were together every day for a month and it felt like nothing had changed outside the fact we could hold hands and kiss.
And I don't love Malfoy.
But I'm certainly attracted to him, and I – well I like him. I like him when he's honest and not playing a game.
So what do I do?
Andrea is going to see my parents off at King's Cross in a few hours, they decided to train to their friend's home in Ireland, and then come back here to drop back off the car. Last night since we were out for so long and had a nice late dinner. We got to talk with my parents together and though Andrea kept wanting to bring things we had discussed up, ugh, we managed to have a really good, parting night before I have to be alone with Malfoy, lord.
"Andrea, what do I do about him?" I say my first groggy words aloud of the day.
Andrea spins around and smiles.
"Oh sweetheart, just let him make the first move. Personally, after hearing about what he did, I'd take my time with this one, I don't know if I could ever trust him…but he isdefinitely into you, given the history you have, and ultimately it's up to you. He is gorgeous, he was polite, and your Mum was definitely charmed, plus he murmured your name while unconscious and he kissed you, -``
"Yes, but –"
"No, you looked hot last night, he must've been dreaming about you, guys are horn dogs, sweetie. If you feel a spark with him, just go with it. Do what your gut says, for once. As you said, he seems to have changed, and if you can forgive him then it's enough for me. Just make sure it's enough for you."
"God, I should not have told you everything…" I mumble.
"Oh but I'm so glad you did! I feel like I'm in some secret sorority or something."
I giggle. She's so ridiculous.
"Hermione, you have to understand something. I genuinely missed being close to my relatives. Your Mum and Dad feel like mine in a way since both the 'rents decided to just get up and jet to America without me." She perches herself on my bed. "Love, I thought I was so alone the past year, what with your parents going to Australia out of the blue, I mean no one had any idea, the neighbours told your Gran and I that and it was all very strange, it felt like Mum leaving all over again…" A tear glistens in her eye and I reach out to give her a big hug, having what feels like most guilt I've ever had in my life drop in my stomach, but she stops me.
"I don't blame you for it, Hermione. I really don't. I understand why you did what you did, to keep them and us safe. I just needed them to be a bus ride away and they weren't anymore, and I didn't know what happened, and I always liked you the most out of my cousins, but for you to just tell me everything with no regrets or holding back after not having seen me in ages just…it means so much to me. Thank you."
"W-what? Thank you! For understanding, for not telling, and for helping me, I mean, god Andrea, I just , you've been – " And just like that we're tearing up and hugging and I know everything will be ok, and I'm eternally grateful for such a loving family, sometimes I get so caught up in my double life that I forget about being a 'muggle', being myself.
"I know, I know. You going to be okay when I'm gone?" she chuckles.
"Yes. I'm just scared being with him alone."
"Well you know I'm only a phone call away should something bad happen…"
"It's not the bad things, it's good things that may happen I'm worried about…"
"Just don't sell yourself short or give in too easy. That's how I got a raise and promotion," she winks.
"Thanks," I smile.
"You'll figure out what you want to do based on his incoming actions, love. If you're forced to do something drastic, please let me know. And lastly, don't sweat it; there's a plethora of men after you, after all. Now what say you come on down for some fancy brunch I just made before Darrell and Helen leave?"
I blush fiercely and nod my head in agreement, pulling off the covers and going to find my slippers to join my family.
KNOCK KNOCK
"Housekeeping."
Go. Away.
My head is pounding a rhythmic offbeat from my heart. They compete to be the dominating thump which only serves to cause a massive headache from this drum torture, and render me immobile on a tatty bed they call a suite at the Leaky Cauldron.
KNOCK KNOCK
"Housekeeping!" The maid is annoyed.
"NO, THANK YOU." I somehow manage to yell as I find my voice.
"It's not a bloody choice…these people…." I hear her murmur as she sighs very exasperated and stomps loudly down the hallway.
Well, la dee da. If I were at any other inn they'd be falling over their feet at my wealthiness. Or from being frightened by a Death Eater, either or.
But, anyways.
What am I to do, exactly?
Probably I'll stay in this bed for half the day , maybe all of it. Curses, why did I drink so fucking much? I haven't drank like that in months, and my liver isn't really loving the sensation now that I finally got it back to normal.
I guess it's just one more dull day alone unless I dare have the cheek to go and visit Miss Granger again, but oh lord, no.
I've never really 'liked' somebody before. Sure, there have been plenty of rich witches that have made me blush or stutter when I speak to them at various parties and events, but Granger and I have a history, and it makes it about 100X more complicated for me to fathom positive feelings about her.
I don't want to care about her, and –
Merlin.
In my haste leaving Pansy's I completely forgot Granger's music device. Her iPod.
Fuck, FUCK!
"FOR FUCK"S SAKE!" I cry aloud.
Well how the hell am I supposed to explain this to her? I can't just go out and get her a new one either, can I? I don't know where to get one in Muggle Muggle land.
Fucking Christ.
I'm going to just have to give her some money to buy a new one…wow, this is a great start.
What was going on in my head when I visited Pansy? What did I hope to achieve?
Why didn't I just fuck her and be her stupid fiancé?
When Father gets out of Azkaban, he'd be proud I tried to keep my head down and married a good pure wife. And Mother would be happy I found someone to make me happy…. But.
I guess I wouldn't be truly happy because I don't know what I truly want. I'm sick of the easy way out.
I mean, I probably could have dealt with that constant dread inside my mind for the rest of my life, I'd be safe and away from the spotlight and I could have a nice time being a rich pompous aristocrat like I've always been, right? Of course.
However, I'd rather fuck Granger than 100 other women. And I'd like to do something for me for once.
Not a puppet to what I'm supposed to be. I want to let somebody in. Is it possible to shed my cowardly ways? I want to try.
Well, well, guess you're being a grown up for once Draco, my mind reels.
Yeah. I hate that.
All well, fuck my life.
I'll decide a logical decision to enact tomorrow…and if I can't be a responsible person now and lose everything I'm supposed to watch, I may as well at least make myself look presentable and quell a few of the many questions from Granger no doubt.
I slowly sit up, my stomach lurching, intending on getting dressed.
"Euch," I cover my mouth, feeling bile rise up into the recesses of my throat and mouth, and pry the covers off of my naked body. I run as fast as possible, a difficult hangover feat, into the loo, but I don't make it to the toilet in time.
I spew the alcoholic liquid all over myself and the bathroom floor. Some manages to get into the sink, but not much.
"Gross." Absolutely vile.
I give up. I go back into the bedroom and grab my wand off the nightstand, saunter back to the shower, turn it on and wait in my own vomit til it's hot enough. I try to siphon the smelly mess off the ground but it's only slightly successful.
I sigh and get into the steamy water, feeling a tiny bit better, much of the alcohol escaped my stomach. Having not eaten much last night, that must've been the only contents inside it.
I hesitantly use the crappy shampoo provided, wising it was my favourite brand in my own shower at my own home, and lather my scalp, trying to forget about everything else except the sensation of water falling on and off my skin.
I reach for the soap and rub myself all over, getting the sweat and dirt away. I reach my nether regions and spend an extra minute there, trying to make myself extra clean, Pansy's spittle washing away.
Rubbing my cock proves to be disastrous. I'm reminded of my horrid orgasm yesterday afternoon, and of what almost was with my ex-girlfriend. I turn the stupid nozzle off, retreating back onto the bed in a towel, and lying down while my head pulses with dull hangover ache.
I lay stagnant for about an hour before deciding that perhaps I should try and do something productive. I open my eyes, remaining still and look on the ground at my crumpled clothes.
And then I realize I have no change of underwear, or a crisp shirt. And tomorrow I simply can't show up wearing the same thing to Granger's. It would let her know something's up, and I hate looking sloppy.
Guess I'm going to have to go out after all. Ugh.
No moisturizer, no cologne, no mousse, I'm going to look frightful. What time is it anyways?
I look to my right on the bedside; 13:47.
It's practically 2 pm? Damn.
It's Sunday afternoon, prime time for the riff raff to be out and about shopping. Well, might as well get out and make this as painless as possible.
I dress myself slowly, grab my bag slowly, wand, slowly, deeply loathing the fact I have to leave, and lock the door. On the way down the stairs an old warlock gives me a grimace and I roll my eyes. The trial of my father, obviously a prominent figure, was all over the Prophet. Pictures of me and for some reason stories from school and my life surfaced and the public ate up the scandal, savouring the rectification of Lucius Malfoy.
Needless to say, most people know what I look like and what and who I am.
Tom the barkeep looks me up and down, as I reach the main floor towards the entrance of Diagon Alley.
"Coming back then for another night, hm?" He smiles politely but I can see in his eyes that he mistrusts me. Thinks I won't pay up probably, giving I came in crumpled and drunk at 3 am this morning.
"Yes, thank you, just going to buy a few things." I reply curtly.
"Rough night? Trouble at home?" he asks, genuinely curious.
"You might say that," I give a humourless chuckle, and on the way out catch a glimpse of mon visage in the mirror on the wall.
Dark circles under my eyes, wet hair plastered onto my forehead. Really sexy.
I sigh and make my way into the street.
I decide I'll go to Twilfit & Tattings, seeing as they're more partial to douchebag aristocrats, aka me, and seeing as Madam Malkin doesn`t particularly like me after that altercation with my mother and the Golden Trio in sixth year.
As I pass the store windows, shopkeepers and citizens pass by me, most not giving me a second look, smiling with their kids, customers, or partners. Some steer clear of me, some whisper. I've not quite learned to ignore it, having holed myself up in my house all the time. Since the defeat of the Dark Lord, Knockturn Alley has been mostly eradicated, closed up for good, and renovated into happier shops. So I can't go there for solace anymore, for good company. And quite honestly, an inn there would be seedier than the Cauldron.
The bell dings as I reach the shop at the near end of the way. Mr. Fassbender, the main dressmaker, flickers his gaze up at me from reading his copy of Impeccably Dressed, a fashion tabloid that documents popular styles. He's a tall man, about 30 or so, with slicked golden hair parted to the side. He's wearing slate robes today.
His gait changes slightly from bending over the counter, to more upright, more professional. But being a high end shop, he doesn't look too pleased at my appearance and doesn't come cantering over like he normally would.
"Welcome, how may I help you?" he asks bored in his German accent.
Guess he doesn't remember me. "I require some new robes, something fitted, nothing over the top."
"Hmm." He looks me up and down. "Any occasion in particular you need these for. Sir?" He's starting to be polite, he's given me the onceover, I think he's trying to decide if I'll be able to pay or not like Tom. I'm not used to this treatment. See, this is why I spend time on how I look, it pays off.
"Everyday use? As you can see I'm not quite in a well-dressed state at the moment, am I? I do need something to change into quite rapidly. If you please."
He raises his eyebrows. I suppose that was rather rude, but he's supposed to be helping me, no?
"Hmm. Any style you have in mind, Mr…?"
"Malfoy," I reply crossing my arms, emphasizing it. As soon as I do a glimmer of recognition flashes across his expression and his manner changes completely.
"Mr Malfoy! I confess, I didn't recognize you. Normally you are rather put together, but today your look has taken an erm, I guess a turn that is, well–"
"Dishevelled?" He guffaws fakely at this and I roll my eyes. Now he's making an effort; I guess people really grovel for a buck, don't they.
"Not quite, but yes…these clothes are very, Muggle-esque. Not quite your type usually I wouldn't say, would I?"
"No, not really. I've found myself in a pickle, you see." Attentive he is now, probably dying for some juicy gossip. I continue, "I am required to go into the Muggle world tomorrow, and for a few days really."
"Ghastly!" he interrupts happily, noting the trouble on my face, flicking his hands up like he's concerned, though sounding like he wants to go with me.
"A bit, I suppose. But not to trouble you too much, I'm unable to retrieve my clothes at the manor, so I need new ones. To see the same, uh, people twice, in the same clothes, would be rather disrespectful I think."
"Oh, I quite agree." He nods fervently. "Well, we've got a range of new fabrics to select from. Scarlet dragonscale, black velvet," he wiggles his eyebrows and I can't help but smirk. "I can make you anything you'd like! If you're feeling more Muggle, I'd recommend going with classic dress pants and perhaps a coat? A blazer? Oh my, how does a scarlet dragonscale leather jacket sound?"
"Er,"
"I've always wanted to make one of those! It's too non-wizard for most people," he says mostly to himself, almost in orgasmic delight at the prospect.
At least he likes his job.
"I'm not quite sure if I need that, it's a school project that I'm going for, not really an outing per se."
His face; Crestfallen. I almost feel bad.
"Oh. I see…"
He looks like he's going to weep, he's probably never gotten the chance to exercise his Muggle craft on the purebloods.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a leather jacket," I say slowly, carefully. "I mean, it doesn't really matter if I wear it ever again…"
"Oh, they just look so chic! The ladies love them, you know," he winks, clapping his hands in delight. Oh god, I hope not.
"Right. Well just some basics then? And a leather jacket too."
"Oh yes! Close up the shop, I could take all day!" He exclaims. Dear Merlin, here we go.
"So here's what I envision for you, Master Malfoy." Master? I quite like that, go on. "Classic tee shirts, the Muggles have them, they all have them! Navy blue, white, black, neutrals to hold the outfit together!"
"Okay…"
"And TROUSERS." I fly back a few inches. "Grey linen! Dark green with flecks of unicorn hair, oh my goodness, so delicious. Green will match your eyes well and compliment your hair, and so will the scarlet, deep sexy red for that jacket!"
"Uh – "
He grabs my shoulder and spans his hand at something invisible in the air.
"Can't you see it? Yourself strolling along merrily in the Muggle streets of London! Oh, yes!"
He's bonkers.
"Lastly, how about woven cardigans? Do you know what that is? A cardigan? A blazer like this one, only much finer…maybe in navy blue, where did you get this anyways?"
This man is absolutely insane. "My mother bought me all these in Paris…"
"PARIS! Oh I envy your life, Mr. Malfoy. So privileged soo….But alas, another time, another time to be, no time to spare, strip please!"
"Excuse me?" This man. Is insane!
"Right right right, move along to the corner," I see 360 mirrors and a stool. "The jacket, off! Pants, shirt, off with them!"
Placing my bag down, I hesitantly move to 'the corner', thanking Merlin that there is only one window in the shop and 'stripping' for this strange man. Never before has he asked me to do this, though I've given him my measurements before so I suppose I needn't.
I flush pink in my fuscia boxers, and with my exposed tattoo, while Fassbender merely smiles at them, and me.
"You do have quite particular tastes, don't you? And you're rather thin, hm I'll see if I can work that to my advantage." He pokes and prods me with his wand as I stand awkwardly on this dinky stool for about an hour and a half, he making asinine comments along the way.
"You could use some new shoes, too, couldn't you?"
"Boxer briefs are all the rage, maybe you'd like some? I can make you fucsia silk!"
"This mark, tsk tsk, oh don't look so offended! I think we should try to keep it covered, no?"'
"Oh, aubergine would totally suit you! No? Oh come on, purple is manly."
By the time I walk out of the store, my legs ache from standing still for so long.
350 galleons later, 4 pairs of pants, 5 shirts, 2 blazers, a cardigan, a leather jacket and yes shoes and boxer-briefs later, I'm finished.
"Would you like me to add all this to your family account?"
I saunter in a daze away from the shop, my hands completely full, and I completely famished.
Which thread would I like, which colour, which thickness for god's sake would I like! I'll admit he did a spectacular job, obviously eccentric people fixate on what they like and do the damn thing. Do it well, but my lord.
I fully intend on going back to the Cauldron for a no doubt horrendous dinner, but as I pass by Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions, I drag myself in. I desire some cologne and soap just so I don't have to smell like bad shampoo for the next who knows how many days. They don't carry the cologne I use regularly so I spend a good 20 minutes trying to choose one. I settle on one called La Beau Reverie, brewed by the Madam herself which has scents of cinnamon, firewhiskey and some sort of fruit I can't place my finger on. It's nice.
As I'm about to leave, ("Oh the ladies all love that one, be sure to use it one dates!") I bump into someone coming inside.
"Excuse me, I – " Holy shit, it's McGonagall.
"Mr Malfoy?" Her glasses are slightly askew, and as she fixes them I notice she isn't wearing a hat. Or tartan for that matter. Something is off.
She looks embarrassed.
"Er, hello professor." I say awkwardly. "Nice to see you," I add a little late, though it is not at all nice. I wouldn't be in this vile mess if it weren't for her after all.
"Yes, same to you," she says insincerely. "What brings you here?" She shuffles over as a witch and her baby pass by to talk to Madam.
"Well I needed-"
"My son has broken out in a rash and I can't seem to mend it, please help!" We both look at the woman for a second and back at each other, yet I can't meet her eye.
I clear my throat. "I needed some, soap?"
"No, I meant in Diagon Alley." Huh? Why the interrogation.
She must see my expression for she says, "I merely ask because I would have expected to see you with Miss Granger, or have you not met for your giant project due in a month?" Oh.
She thinks I'm blowing her off!
"No, we met up yesterday afternoon. Professor," I say steel faced. She eyes me, trying to figure out if I'm lying.
"Did you? May I ask where? For how long?"
"Uh-" She sighs, and clears her throat.
"I don't wish to make you feel uncomfortable, but as you know this is a heavily weighted assignment, and I'm placing immense pressure on my students because I only have a half year to test this class, and if the ministry does not approve of it based on bad grades or lack of teaching material, we will not have it for the rest of the term, perhaps ever again. And seeing as for some reason you turned out to be a prodigy," she throws her hand out at me, "And Miss Granger is like her usual self, I need good examples. Some of the higher ups will be watching the performance."
Higher ups? I swallow hard, licking my lips, nervous because I realize, and I forgot, I have to perform in public. With Granger. In front of not just the school but the fuckingministry.
"Well," I say, shaking my arms in nervousness. "We didn't get much done but, I travelled to her home." McGonagall raises her eyebrows up to her hairline. Why do people keep doing that!
Is it so surprising that I can be a decent human life form?
"You did?"
"Well, yes." McGonagall stops for a moment, looks at my shitty hair, my odd choice of clothing, and right back up into my face.
"Would you like some coffee Mr Malfoy?"
What?
"I – would be - delighted…?"
"Good," she turns and walks out of the shop and I don't know what I've gotten myself into but before I can even utter a word I find myself seated at Florian Fortescue's with a cup in front of me and my headmaster asking for cream, not milk to the waitress.
"Biscuit?" she asks, holding out a ginger snap from the complimentary plate.
"Thanks…" I grab one and sip my coffee, taking a small bite out of courtesy.
"You like your coffee black."
"I find sugar makes me too jumpy."
"I myself don't like sugar. But cream makes it palatable," she smiles that line of a mouth of hers and I forcefully smile back. This is so fucking uncomfortable.
"Do you know why I put you with Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy?"
I swallow my coffee and give her an eye, my hand still on my cup. "Because Weasley is an idiot?"
She shakes her head, though the smile is still there. "No. Because I thought it might be good for you."
"Good for me? But you initially partnered me with -"
"I know I did. As I said, it was partially randomized. That was also before I realized that Miss Chang is a nervous wreck, and Mr Thomas had a, shall we say, 'thing' for Miss Granger."
"Well she had a 'thing' too."
"And you dislike that? Is that why you felt the need to intervene?" She's surveying me and I try my hardest not to break my poker face.
"I just…don't think hitting a woman is right."
"Yes, but remember Mr Malfoy, that you were the boy that made her cry when she was 12 by uttering disgusting words at her?"
I slink into my seat. How does she know that?
"You made her teeth grow to the floor and received no punishment, you were the boy who made Potter faint on his broomstick by pretending to be a dementor, almost made him break yet another bone because you wanted a little fun? And caused my team to be split up by that Umbridge woman?" she hardens her fist at the thought. "You've made that poor girls and her friends lives a living hell up until this point, so what exactly is it that is making you not be a little sneak this year? Have you grown up? What?"
She really wants an answer, she looks almost anguished that I'm not being such a douchenozzle.
"The last two years, professor; they changed me. Let's put it that way."
"That's it. That's all an answer I get for buying you coffee?" she's staring at me intently. What does she want from me?
"Look, you knew, I know you did, that every stupid thing I did was out of jealousy, a need for attention. From the minute I stepped foot into the Great Hall, don't you understand that's why I find it so difficult to , well, hold a conversation with you?" I plead.
She looks almost taken aback. "Yes, it was quite obvious you felt inadequate, but why? You aren't unintelligent. You can fly a broom once you don't insult every person on the team. And partially, it's because of your family, of being in Slytherin that perhaps I've been a bit hard on you, I'll admit; but I'm hard on everyone. "
"I guess I just felt the need to prove myself to everyone. And because Potter wouldn't be my friend based on hell knows what, I made sure he knew he made a mistake."
"And your father? Do you still need to prove yourself to him?"
I look away from her, How dare she bring him up?
"Look. My father has made a lot of errors in his life, I know this, but he was just doing what he thought would be the best option for the family."
"I would say more than a lot of errors. Look at yourself, Mr Malfoy, look at what you've ended up like. Don't think I'm unaware of what went on with you and Albus." Albus?
"It isn't your fault what happened, you felt constant pressure from your father to get information, and from Voldemort an order especially out of spite wouldn't be taken lightly, would it? You did what you did because you were loyal to your family. And maybe a little bit too much cowardice. And as we all know, Albus calculated it to happen that way and planned to die."
"I don't want to discuss this. Please." How can she say these things so matter of factly? My stomach is reeling from anxiety, what if someone hears?
"I know you don't, I'm trying to make a point."
"Which is what?"
"You've changed. And I don't know if it's a good thing, because I haven't spent much time with you for obvious reasons. I'm just trying to figure out why, because quite honestly it's nagging at me."
"Why does it bother you so much?" she's starting to frighten me. Does she watch me more than she lets on?
"That doesn't concern you, really." Huh? "But if you must know, I love my house. I've grown quite a liking to all my students." Oh, it's Granger, isn't it!
"And you're worried I'll do something to Granger?"
"No, I'm quite hoping she'll 'do something' to you."
"What?"
"Draco, do you know why I invited you back to Hogwarts?"
"You know, I haven't the slightest." And I don't. "I guess I just didn't ask questions."
"Well I'll tell you why if you tell me why you accepted." She's being real with me, why is she being like this? She's all ears, and even though she has that severe bun look going on, she's wearing a nice dress robe and make up. What the fuck. She seems a nice older woman, not a stroppy schoolteacher.
"Ok, fine.… I accepted because it was something to do. Something to ease my mind, it's something useful really. The only thing. If I hadn't come, 20 galleons says I'd still be in my bedroom with a glass of sherry, rehashing memories of last year."
"Which are what?" she looks puzzled. She doesn't know, does she?
"Professor, you do know that I was a Death Eater right?" I say this blankly, and she straightens up in her seat, looking at me like Granger does, like I'm a question to be solved.
"Well, I. Well, yes I did…Albus told me what happened after he made it into his portrait, told me not to be too cross with you, though I'll admit…" she's actually finding it difficult to find words, and it hits me right now that she's a human being, isn't she? I always look at her like someone to be wary of, to avoid, but she invited me to talk to her. And nobody has done that, ever.
"Look, whatever feelings you hold towards me I probably deserve. Last year, though I was fully fledged. At first, in sixth year, I didn't understand what that meant. Until I was told that my mother was going to die if I didn't find any progress on mending the vanishing cabinet, I thought I was a big shot. I thought I could do it, and I didn't let my fear sink in until then. Once I did, there wasn't any turning back, and I knew I was going to fail, I was too scared to face a man willing to help me until death."
She says nothing, so I continue.
"And then, after the whole Snape plan thing, I was shamed by every living Death Eater, about 20 times a day, and Lord…Voldemort took a hold of my house as headquarters." Intake of breath. "I couldn't do anything anymore. I couldn't find any emotion other than terror lurking everywhere. The way my father explained it to me as a child was that if Voldemort took power we would have been safe, we would've been secure, free, like normally. He didn't honestly think about the consequences because he didn't honestly believe he would come back, the idiot. And then here I was, barely 17, and forced to hurt people 20 years older than me, curse them or face punishment myself. And let me tell you sometimes I wished I could be a psychopath just so I wouldn't have to feel this constant remorse, this constant justification in my mind that I'm not a bad person anymore because I quit. Because I am a bad person. I want nothing to do with pureblood society anymore. I want a normal, quiet life, and that's just not going to happen."
"And why not?" I turn to face McGonagall, and pity resides in her face. Pity.
"Because everyone hates me. It took me a year to stop drinking so much, and I still can barely eat. Meanwhile, Potter and friends are completely fine. Because they have nothing to feel bad about. And I envy them because they chose the right path. There, happy? I said it."
She pauses for a moment before speaking again.
"Mr Malfoy, I truly think you need someone to talk to about your feelings. I asked you why you chose to come back to school and received all…that"
"Sorry," I mutter.
I am nuts. I belong in the mental house.
"Don't be sorry. I asked you, you told. So here's my answer; I brought you back to Hogwarts, Draco, because I saw potential in you."
"Potential?" I ask, chuckling almost at that. Honestly, me?
"Don't scoff at me young man. You surprised me; I didn't think you had it in you to return, I thought you may take the Pansy Parkinson route."
"I would never take the Pansy Parkinson route." I say, disgusted at her words last night.
"Apparently not. See, this. This is what I mean by a change. You don't seem so hell-bent on trying to show everyone how amazing you are this year. You haven't bragged once or told any tales to stir up drama. You've made mistakes, but are you truly a bad person, Draco? I don't know. But recognizing your errors and feeling remorse makes you a human being. You`re no monster. And in all honesty, you did what most people would've done in your situation. Don't berate yourself because we can't all have the strong will of Harry Potter, you haven't lived the life he has. You were a spoiled brat and to someone like Potter, who hadn't received any kindness or attention until he was 11, you no doubt rubbed him in all the wrong ways."
"I would say so, but he didn't have to be such a prick…"I mumble, and the smile is back.
"Now, may I ask you one more question before I'm on my way?"
"Sure, why not, we're already past small talk."
God, I'm hiring a therapist, McGonagall knows my life story practically.
"Why go to Miss Granger's house? Sorry, two questions; and which composer did you choose?"
Oh, lord.
Should I? Fuck I've already gotten in too deep.
"Professor, I'll tell you why, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."
She narrows her eyes, contemplating me. "All right," she takes a sip.
"Professor, there was a point last year when snatchers captured the three and brought them to my house, headquarters. They didn't know if it was Potter however, because he had a jinx on his face. They thought it might be Weasley and Granger, but they wouldn't have called the Dark Lord if they weren't absolutely sure that it was Potter, the only one who mattered, because of the consequences had they been wrong." I gulp.
McGonagall drops her cup on the plate and widens her eyes at me. "Continue, please," she almost begs.
"My father asked me if I knew if it was him."
Another deep intake of breath.
"It was repulsive how joyous the prospect of being in the good books would be with the Dark Lord. But I told him that I wasn't sure, and that it only could be, probably the only decent thing I've ever done in my life. And then Bellatrix, my lovely aunt," I add sarcastically and McGonagall thumps the table, obviously disliking her too, "noticed that he had a scar, and she knew, so they locked them in a cellar." This memory is so vivid, it's flooding back into my mind. "All except Granger, whom she tortured and called a mudblood, because she had silver sword in her bag. I didn't understand, but apparently it was a big deal. It was so horrifying that I couldn't watch it, like a coward. And I feel guilty that I didn't step in or say anything, I should've said something that I knew it wasn't her, anything. But I'm an idiot and I stood by my sobbing mother instead." I finish in a whisper, with my head in my hands.
McGonagall is stunned.
"That is why I went to her house. I didn't want to, I'll admit it. I've never been anywhere Muggle. But we didn't stay at Hogwarts. And because maybe she deserves a little break from my humble abode, and I've been such an ass…I can find it within myself to do her a favour. We chose a band she likes, Muse, who I actually find interesting, and all in all we've made no progress, but I'm going over there tomorrow so I hope it goes better."
She's still stunned, staring at me, without pity however.
"I-I'm. Impressed," she chooses to say.
"Really?"
"You continue to amaze me, though you'll have to do a bit more than that I'm afraid to cover up your past discrepincies," she says and chuckles. Chuckles.
"Understandable?"
"Well this has been one of the more interesting conversations I've had all year. Eye-opening to say the least…But alas, I need to get my shopping done, and I'm sure you need to do more studying, yes?" She grabs her bag.
I nod, unsure of what to say at this closing juncture. And then,
"May I ask you one last question, professor?" I stand up and walk over to pull out her chair, a gesture she seems pleased about.
"Of course. What is it?"
"Why do you think Granger would do me some good, so to speak?" McGonagall stands up, brushes of her skirt and smiles, pointing me to the exit.
"Because Miss Granger is an incredibly caring person, Mr Malfoy. Very forgiving, if the person deserves it, and also very determined to get that 'O'. I knew she'd have trouble adjusting with you, but she wants a good grade. I thought that her cooperation and willingness to work when she is very demanding herself would show you a great example of how not to be, shall we say, close-minded? Given your history." We're walking out the door and let her words sink into my brain.
"You're right, I suppose, but you did notice that I made no fuss? Or at least only a miniscule one?"
"I did. Thank you for pointing it out," she says, the tight smile still there. "Now all you have to do is deserve that forgiveness as you've been slowly working towards, and maybe you'll see that your enemies can be turned into something more positive, yes?"
"So in other words, you're trying to make my life difficult to make it easier?"
"Exactly. You know, besides the general temperament, you and Miss Granger are strangely alike."
"We are?"
"I would say so. Goodbye, Mr Malfoy," she waves as she turns the direction from which we were walking. But…
"Thanks for the coffee, professor."
"You're welcome. Oh, and Draco?"
I stop and listen as she rushes back to me, grabbing my arm lightly. "Do try to convince Hermione to do a composer, will you? I'm sure she has good taste, but I highly doubt a Muggle band will impress the higher-ups!" She saunters away again, and I walk back to the Leaky Cauldron in a daze.
Quite unbelievable what just happened here today. I had a conversation about my life with a professor, one I previously loathed. And it actually made me feel better.
I walk up to my room, not even caring about my new clothes, throwing them on the ground, taking off my blazer and lying down to think through my thoughts about last year, something I haven't done properly.
And as I contemplate my stupid actions of last year, I know if I can get through it; I can go tomorrow to see Granger without exploding at her, and I'll still be miserable about my mother, about my father being in jail, but maybe I can just focus on how to be a better person now and forget about the past until I need to worry about it.