A/N: Hi, I'm fairly new to the HP Fanfic world, so please be kind. Lots more to come! Hope you enjoy the ride.
.: BATTLE SCARS - CHAPTER ONE :.
I didn't know many things in life, though of all spiritual possibilities, one thing I was absolutely certain of— my bone-solid intuition.
Paper, quill, ink and wand had carried me through the first decade of my life, and after Hogwarts, I had tried relentlessly to position myself into the wizarding world - proving to the snobby know-it-alls that a witch of muggle descent could make it. That blood status meant nothing when magic was involved.
I'd climbed high, and got myself a private office in the Ministry– just two floors away from Ron and Harry, and the mischief they boiled.
Really, I couldn't file any more paperwork to get them out of trouble if I tried.
Life was good, and the darkness had faded from our lives… I suppose enough to see the sunshine, or whatever it is they sing about on the radio these days.
Wake up, it's a beautiful morning?
The notion made me shake my head now, scanning over an old report or two, on the exact train I had been on seven years ago, to the day. The Hogwarts Express.
If you'd have told me that I would leaving London with a suitcase and a handful of study material, I'd have laughed. Smacked you on the arm and teased, even.
Though here I was, with little to chuckle about– a new professor for the academic year.
Really, how was I meant to turn down Professor Mcgonagall when she asked so nicely?
"Miss Granger, you will be doing us such a help— put that down, Mr Tuffle!- we wouldn't know what to do."
"And it would only be for six months?" I had asked.
"Six… eight, who knows." Mcgonagall had tittered nervously. "Mr Tuffle might not be fully recovered by that point– I said put it down! –as you can hear he's not doing too well."
"Mm." I had hummed nervously, listening as an incoherent William Tuffle started playing bagpipes in the background and Mcgonagall rushed to end the call.
I would have been less nervous if she would have just sent an owl.
There was a nervous part of me that couldn't wait to see the castle again– the rush up to Christmas, Hagrid's pumpkins. Butterbeer down at the pub and stories from Nearly Headless Nick.
The children on the other hand… they would be difficult.
The train itself curved around a large body of water, precisely half an hour away from Hogsmeade, and delved into a thicket of wild trees – designed to keep the last stretch of travel away from muggle sight: a new infrastructure, after Voldemort made his plight of vengeance very public, so many years ago.
Yes, the wizarding world had undergone serious changes for magical security - another being an enforcement of ministry participants acting in the muggle government.
Saving our world day by day, the mission statement claimed.
Saving nothing, I thought bitterly.
A flock of new years wandered down the corridor and stopped to look inside, their shirts untucked and robes askew. Frightened little deer, staring into the eyes of their new professor. I smiled weakly, though they scurried off, whispering to themselves.
I sighed and focused on my work, trying not to let the title of 'scary teacher' settle like a halo over my head. The new Mad-Eye Moody… the new Snape.
A shiver went down my spine.
Harry had all but laughed maniacally at the idea of me in the teacher's lounge, pouring myself a cup of tea and awarding house points. Ron was more comforting, though told me to give the students' a break, as 'not everyone is as academically gifted as you.'
Ginny could only pat me on the shoulder.
She had become my sole confidant since Hogwarts, though part of me wondered if she was just trying to get me back with her brother. I couldn't explain to her again that we were better suited as friends, as the bond was too strong. Though as every Christmas passed, I would get a longing look over my present as Ginny proclaims we were meant to be sisters by blood.
She didn't take my offer when I said we could always carry a locket of each other's hair.
She did smirk, however.
My quill dawdled down the paper and landed on a particular question that required some thought– my brows pulling prettily as I formulated an answer.
The carriage door slid open, a bustle of movement followed, and then a figure slumped across from me.
I didn't look up at first, too engrossed in reading, and then a cologne caught my attention— woody, heavy and sharp. My mind exploded as Deja Vu crept in, sending forward bursts of color, sound, touch and magic.
As magic as a memory could be.
The figure then coughed, and all fell into place.
Draco Malfoy.
My eyes snapped up, and I found the old 'friend' in front of me to be unrecognizable – a phantom of the boy I once knew. His hair still a sharp white, though now tousled and askew… messy, and not as pristine as I remembered, having been so insecure about mine. His blue eyes were expressionless, watching out the window, the rolling hills and tall-trees reflecting against the haunted look he now had.
Older, meaner… a dog that finally had bite, and not just bark.
This Malfoy settled into his chair and flexed out his jaw– something I noticed to be sharp, and carrying a wound that sliced all the way from chin to brow– animated as he frowned against the light, and cleared his throat.
An infliction not from the war against Voldemort, but something else.
I must have been staring in shock for too long, as he turned his cheek to look at me, and all the air vacuumed out of the carriage.
This scar had blinded his right eye, now leaving behind a cloudy white in its place– as eerie as a remembrall. The other, still as ocean blue as I remembered, settled on my face and narrowed.
I quickly cleared my throat and blinked the shocked expression away.
"What are you doing here?"
He raised his brows a small amount, though enough that I saw.
"Hello to you as well."
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you." I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. "How are you? It's been a while."
"It's been years." He noted. "I'm well… and you?"
"I'm okay." I answered too fast.
He nodded slowly once. "Are you here as a parent?"
A parent? I thought, then caught up quickly. "No, no. I'm filling in for Mr Tuffle for the academic year."
"Charms?"
"Yes."
"I see."
"And you?"
"Defense Against The Dark Arts."
Huh. Mcgonagall kept that quiet.
"You look surprised." He added.
My face must have been a picture, one I could barely scramble together– though after some time, I regained my cool. "Not at all," I shrugged, "I just didn't expect to see you… here."
He nodded once, and then looked out of the window.
Where was his usual cocky behavior? His ego that swallowed all air in the room?
His smirk?
Then a flash soared through me, answering all those little questions.
I had read something in The Daily Prophet about a young boy at Malfoy Manor falling into a lake and drowning. I always thought it was a cousin, or someone distantly related to Draco – though seeing this version of him before me now fit the description of the 'grieving father.'
Draco had lost his only son.
"I'm sorry, by the way." I added in a softer voice. "About your son."
"Is Potter with you?" Malfoy asked, rather harshly. I was taken aback by the sudden whisk of tone, and began to see an animal beneath the cracks of the cool facade – nasty, as he always had been.
"No."
"Weasley?"
"...No."
"Just you then." He scowled.
"Just me." I snapped back even harder.
"I would advise you to stay out of my way for the rest of the academic year, Granger." He stood, the train slowing to a gradual stop– Hagrid's bustling voice filling the empty platform. "You might have won over the rest of the wizard community, but you'll always be a dirty mudblud to me."
I froze in my seat, mouth ajar and silent – watching as he stormed out of the carriage, spitting the word 'filth' beneath his breath.
Did that year we spent together mean nothing to him?
Did he forget all about what we did after Voldemort was vanquished?
I could still remember the letter now, coming through the door as Ron, Harry and I laid in the garden of a safehouse, instructing us back to redo our final year at Hogwarts. Our seventh year never entirely completed.
Everything was different… everything was exciting.
A year no one talked about.
The train shrieked and smoke bustled from the roof, Hagrid calling all first years to the front. I got to my feet and blinked away the burning tears of anger that had surfaced, making my way from the carriage.
I could still feel his hands in my hair. His laugh in my ears.
Though nothing really lasts forever, does it?