CHAPTER 1
Wizarding London was booming: a giant crowd had gathered at the biggest performance venue in Great Britain. For the moment, the stage was dark. Excited murmuring moved from one person to another like lightning, creating an electric field, its buzzing getting louder and louder with every passing second…
Finally, the stage lit up, causing an avalanche: people screamed and shook giant posters with words of love and adoration, crying and chanting one name—a spell, really.
Out of nowhere, a voice whispered "Are you ready?" creating an even bigger reaction.
"I SAID ARE YOU REEEEEEADY?"
The stage exploded with fire, revealing three musicians positioned in a triad: one drummer, one bass guitarist, and one singer with an electric guitar. If there was a word to describe their appearance, it would be 'intense.' Hot, tattooed, pierced, and dressed in black leather, chains, dramatic eyeliner, and black nail polish, they commanded attention. The singer looked at the crowd with bedroom eyes, causing one fan to faint when he winked at her. He smiled, exposing a straight row of white teeth—the perfect smile. His platinum blond hair was styled in an undercut—also perfect. He wore a leather vest over his naked torso, which was fully covered in black tattoos, the Dark Mark clearly visible on his forearm among them. He also wore leather pants and dragon-hide platform boots. His white guitar's strap crossed his torso, and his long, beautiful tattooed fingers held it gently, as if cradling a lover. Three fingers of each hand bore letters that, when put together, spelled 'MALFOY' in black gothic font. His gray eyes, so sensual, seduced every person in the crowd. Thousands of people—all enchanted by one and only. It was his name they screamed. It was his name they chanted.
"DRA-CO"
"DRA-CO"
"DRA-CO"
And he was drunk with it.
A microphone stand appeared in front of Draco.
To his left, in front of an elaborate drum set, sat Blaise Zabini. As beautiful as ever, he was shirtless and wearing leather pants; not a speck of ink on his torso, but his nipples pierced. He had a strong and athletic body. His buzz cut with tribal designs on the sides suited him well accentuating his features - a strong jaw, straight nose and almond-shaped eyes the color of melting chocolate. He raised his hand with one of the drumsticks and started playing confidently, hitting the cymbal first.
To Draco's right stood another diva - the bass player, Theodore Nott. His fingers awakened the guitar with a gruff noise, adding a harmonious tone to the drums. His Bob Dylan-style brown locks and his bright green eyes were the subject of many people's wet dreams at night. Unlike Blaise and Draco, he was wearing a laced black blouse, also unbuttoned. Both his nostrils were pierced with studs connected by a small chain, and he had a snake bite piercing as well. But who could be surprised at a Slytherin having a snake bite? He looked sexy, and he knew it.
Draco raised his hand and struck the strings, producing a heavy, deep purring sound from his guitar. The song was recognized immediately, prompting the crowd to whistle, scream, and cry.
He began playing with a mellow-sounding duo of drums and bass in the background. He opened his sensual mouth, and like unwrapping a delicious candy, his baritone voice emerged.
"Am I a doll to you?
Am I a puppet?
Your marionette.
This game is over,
Because…
You would do anything to have the strings to my soul
To my soul."
Fire blew from the sides of the stage, close to Theo and Blaise. Draco stopped playing as the tempo slowed down even more.
"I would do it for you
If only you'd asked,
But you want to force me,
You want to force me…"
The crowd sang with Draco in unison. His melodic voice penetrated their souls, almost physical in its impact. The emotional tension he created was palpable. Every note of the most popular ballad in the past century of wizarding rock was echoed by the crowd. Men and women alike were absolutely hypnotized by Draco's charms. Musician magic. No one else can enter one's heart the way a favorite musician does. They watched his every move, every curve of his mouth, the way he closed his eyes. The sound he produced came from the deepest depths of his soul, from the pain he was sharing with thousands. His beautiful face was illuminated by lights and fire. He gripped the microphone with both hands, as if afraid to let it go. A moment of intimacy exposed to those eager to pry.
"I'm going to cut the strings to my soul
Strings to my soul…"
His pierced eyebrow twitched as he opened his eyes. He gazed into the distance with intense sorrow. He was somewhere else, maybe one on one with his pain. Light reflected off of his signet ring - the only ring he wore - on the ring finger of his right hand, with the tattooed "M" on the knuckle.
The song ended slowly, leaving an aftertaste. So many people were crying and then applauding, whistling and screaming, throwing red roses on the stage.
"Thank you," Draco murmured into the microphone.
For the next song, he gave his guitar to Theo. He took a sip of water and went back to the microphone.
"The next song is the one that you all know and love," he said.
Theo struck the strings, causing the guitar to produce a heavy noise and then began playing aggressively, paired with a fast drum beat. Draco closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he looked angry.
"I'm marked,
I'm marred,
I'm covered in mud,
I fell from the grace,
I'm unable to climb,
I'm unable to fly,
I'm unable to die,
All I have is my shame
All I have is my pride"
The crowd went completely wild, forming a mosh pit in the center where people aggressively bumped into each other. The energy was raw and primal.
Draco growled 'Morsmordre,' and Theo launched into a guitar solo. The strings shrieked, shrilled, and growled, further electrifying the crowd. Theo headbanged in rhythm with the guitar, and the audience joined in unison.
"Morsmordre!"
Moshing bodies filled the pit. Draco, sweaty, jumped around on the stage. Fire burst forth, shaping into snakes reminiscent of Fiendfyre. The beasts were circling around Draco as he began to sing.
"I'm down
I'm done
In hell
No crown
I feel
No doubt
I want to
Kill
Now sign the deal"
The strobe light behind Draco formed into a Dark Mark. People screamed, some in fear, some in excitement. A fiery snake came out of its mouth and burned the skull into nothingness, then it stopped right behind Draco, growing bigger and bigger, hissing at people. It was scary imagery.
Draco growled "Morsmordre" once again and then he grabbed the microphone stand and swung it as a sword cutting the snake's head. It blew up into fireworks, making people scream completely ecstatic.
The song abruptly ended. Draco and Theo, along with Blaise, were breathing heavily.
People applauded, whistled, and some girls even threw their knickers onto the stage.
Draco smiled at the reaction he had caused. Tonight was his night.
The pub was packed. Tasteful interior in dark pink-ish tones looked modern and alluring. At the bar, Lavender Brown stood in heart-shaped eyeglasses and mixed cocktails.
Ginny Weasley tossed a copy of "Daily Prophet" on the table, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were already seated. On one side of the table, Ron and Harry were both drinking beer. Hermione, seated across from them, delicately sipped on a bubbling pink martini. From the front page of the newspaper, Draco Malfoy beheaded a fire snake with a microphone stand and then smiled at the crowd.
"Can you believe this?" said Ginny angrily. "The audacity!"
Harry picked up the paper, skeptically raising his eyebrow. Beside him, Ron glanced at the picture and sneered.
"Hm," Hermione hummed, then put her martini glass on the table and took the paper from Harry.
She looked at him, hypnotically smiling at the jumping crowd, unable to hold back a sneer.
She placed the paper on the table.
"Disappointed, but not surprised," she said, rolling her eyes.
Ginny grabbed the paper and crumpled it in anger. Harry shrugged, then took her hand and gently pulled her to sit next to him. He placed his arm on the back of her chair, drew closer, and landed a kiss on her temple.
"It's not worth it, Gin. It's done and gone," he murmured.
"Don't you care? That prat did nothing during the war and now this? Since when do cowards become superstars?" she slammed her fist on the wooden surface.
Harry only sighed. Ginny angrily glanced at Hermione. She was expecting the other girl to be on her side, but Hermione was silently sipping her martini. She then turned to Ron.
"Gin, I don't want to talk about Malfoy, alright? It's Friday, we just closed the case we've been working on forever and all I want is a pint," said Ron and took a sip of his beer.
Ginny let out a frustrated noise and left for the bar. The trio exchanged meaningful looks.
Later, when the four of them were leaving the "Lav Potion", a brand new pub opened by Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the Gryffindors were silent. For some reason, the conversations didn't stick and overall the mood was foul.
"Are you going to stay at Grimmauld?" Harry asked Ginny.
"Sure" she smiled at him, "I've missed you."
He took her hand and looked at Ron.
"I'll be late, you two have fun," he said and looked at Hermione.
Harry noticed and exchanged a knowing look with Ginny, who frowned back at him suspiciously.
After hugging Hermione, Harry and Ginny apparated from the dimly lit Diagon Alley, with only a few places still open. Ron and Hermione were left alone, the tension between them palpable. Both felt awkward. Ron took a deep breath.
"I want to…" he started.
"Yes?" she blurted out, sounding as though she were expecting to hear something specific.
He sighed. The words clearly didn't come to him easily.
"You know that I love you, right?" he said cautiously, looking at her.
"I love you too, Ron," she said, her lips curling into a smile, but when she noticed his facial expression, she stopped. "But?"
He took a pause.
"I think it's time we move on. I want us to start seeing other people."
She exhaled rather loudly, clearly this wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"I know that things have always been difficult between us, especially lately, but Mione, above all, is our friendship. I don't want to lose you, I want you to know this."
Now he was the one who sounded hopeful. Hermione was looking down, her gaze hidden behind a thick row of eyelashes.
"Say something?"
"I don't know what to say, Ron. Are you in love with someone?"
"No, no. It's not like that," he paused, "but I think we stuck together after the war for different reasons, right? Not because we actually love each other."
She closed her eyes, standing there, silent. Ron looked guilty. A minute passed.
"Speak for yourself, Ronald," said Hermione, opening her eyes and looking at him. She was angry.
"Mione…"
"Don't" she cut him off. "I don't want to hear anything more. I accept your decision, I agree and we should move on. For now, I'd like to keep my distance from you, so please, give me some space. Goodbye."
She turned on her heels and almost ran away, she was that desperate to leave. She didn't even look where she went, as long as she was away from Ron and his sorry eyes and whoever it was he wanted to move on to. Tears pricked her eyes; she angrily wiped them away. She heard the sound of apparition behind. Coward, she thought.
She decided to walk to her flat instead of apparating, to clear up her mind. She will have 2 amazing days before work to cry her eyes out, watch a soppy rom-com in a movie theater and drown herself in hot chocolate. Maybe she will call her mom and complain that Ronald Weasley is an arse and she hates him. To be honest, her mother did not like Ron, she wouldn't even be upset.
Hermione lived close to Diagon Alley in the wizarding part of London. It wasn't a big flat, but it was cozy, full of books and what is more important - she paid the rent herself. She was nineteen, she had her first job and she moved out of her parent's place. Adulting was exciting for Hermione. She took it as any other task, as a new subject at school, and naturally, she wanted to excel. Her parents wanted to help her financially, but she has refused. With strict budgeting, Hermione made it work and she was quite proud of herself. Sure, Harry offered to move in together, the second he was able to get the keys from Grimmauld Place. But her and Ron only started dating back then and she still remembered how bad it was during god awful time they spent living in a tent haunting horcruxes, and Hermione politely declined. She enjoyed the little life she built: it was the two of them. Her and her cat.
She walked through the cozy alley right in front of the building where she lived, climbed the stairs and went in. Climbed some more stairs and when she reached the fifth floor, she took her wand from the holster on her thigh and drew a runic code on the door, it swung open. She hid her wand and walked in.
Her living room wasn't big: a sofa, low coffee table in front of it and two armchairs on sides. The fireplace was right in front of the sofa, big and ornamental. The flat had elements of Victorian style and Hermione tried to decorate it accordingly. The wallpaper was of light green color and at first she disliked it, but decided to leave it that way and soon grew fond of it. She opted for pastel colors to accentuate the main design, making the flat feel vibrant. Yellow cushions and armchairs, dark green sofa, dark hardwood floor, the rug matched the wallpaper. She dropped her bag on the floor, took off her shoes and went straight to the bathroom to wash her hands.
At the end of August, the weather was nice and warm. She opened the big round window in her bedroom and let the fresh air in. Her bed took the space of the whole room, it was separated from the living room with folding blind doors. She had two nightstands on both sides of the bed but only one lamp. Above the bed there was a bookshelf with her favorite reads: a couple books by Dostoevsky and Bulgakov, Kafka, History of Magic, Carl Jung, Sylvia Plath and, surprisingly, "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte.
Crooks strutted after her, waiting for food.
"I didn't forget about you, I know you're hungry," she smiled at her favorite beast.
Hermione walked into the kitchen, placing the tea kettle on the gas stove. She the ignited it with a non-verbal spell and finally emptied a pouch of cat food in a dish for Crooks. The beast attacked his plate with deviousness. Hermione only cooed with adoration. The kitchen wasn't big, but it had a window with a picturesque view on the alley outside, a nice dining table set with four chairs - a gift from her parents, and the walls were light blue. In the middle of the table, Hermione placed a vase with fresh hydrangeas. She made sure to always have fresh flowers.
She then took off her clothes, changed into comfortable lounge wear and brew herself a big cup of tea. Hermione drew her wand and cast an intricate elaborate spell, forming a sphere. In front of her appeared a small, liquid-like disco ball, floating and attempting to alter its shape. It sparkled and shimmered with beautiful light. She got under the blanket with her cup.
"Play Metallica - Nothing Else Matters," she said quietly.
The sphere glowed, reciprocating to her words and the sound of a slow melodic guitar filled up the room. She whispered "Muffliato" to the window and finally she let the tears out. Crookshanks came to her right away, curling up on her lap and bumping slightly with his head asking for pets. She sobbed and petted his big head. James Hetfield's voice murmured "So close, no matter how far…", and Hermione was the saddest person in the world.
Ron appeared in front of a gray stone cottage. A beautiful garden surrounded the building with magical flowers and lush vegetation, the walls were covered in ivy. He walked to the front door and knocked. After a minute, the door creaked open and Ron walked in.
An old and kind-faced house elf greeted Ron with a low bow, Ron smiled at the creature with warmth.
"Master is expecting you, mister Weasley," the elf croaked.
"It's good to see you, Pinky."
The elf beamed at him and together they walked into a moonlit conservatory, where surrounded by clouds of blue smoke, Neville Longbottom lounged on a bright colored settee. The room, naturally, was full of plants and some of them were, in fact, moving. Ron didn't really like plants, but he liked the one Neville was about to offer.
They shook hands. These days Neville was wearing sunglasses almost the whole time, even at night. He said he became sensitive to light, but everyone knew that wasn't the reason why Neville was hiding his eyes. With no further ado, Longbottom held his joint in front of Ron and after the latter sat next to Neville, he took the joint and inhaled deeply, letting out clouds of blue smoke. After a moment, Ron melted into a senseless smile.
"Alright?" asked Neville quietly.
"Yeah. You?"
Neville slowly nodded, Ron passed the joint.
"How's Pansy?"
"S'fine. She left for France, sent me a couple owls. Didn't get back to her."
"You still…"
"Yeah" Neville let out a big cloud of smoke. "I'm still. That's the point."
Ron chuckled.
"If you need anything, just let us know."
Neville nodded.
"You're always welcomed at Grimmauld, just so you know."
Neville nodded again. He became way quieter than he ever was before. But he wasn't nervous or jittery anymore, and his stutter was gone. He was calm as a cucumber, he was still. Gryffindors have discussed the issue among themselves many times, but nobody knew how to reach Longbottom. It wasn't that Neville pushed people away; rather, it felt like an unspoken rule that kept them at arm's length. Sometime after the war, he and Pansy Parkinson got together. There was nothing left of the boy with big teeth, bad memory and the biggest heart in the history of Gryffindor. His daily routine was simple - smoke plants, tend to plants, rinse, repeat. Somehow Pansy didn't break with him - yet. Everyone was thinking of the "yet". Nobody wanted to think what came after the "yet".
The war broke Neville Longbottom, his iconic grandmother's death just finished the rest. Ron didn't know how to help, nor did Harry or Seamus or Dean. Even Luna and Hannah Abbot did not know how to help. Both romantic relationships were short-lived and miserable. But Pansy was different. She wasn't soft. Maybe that's why they still were together. Still. People tried to talk to Neville about his feelings, his thoughts. His friends tried, his girlfriend tried, but Nevill didn't talk. Especially he didn't talk about the war. If the subject came, he usually left the room or went silent.
Neville exhaled another blue cloud. For Merlin's sake, Ron had no idea how Longbottom was capable of smoking so much and remaining… functional? Ron was completely plastered after two puffs.
"Nev?"
"Hm?"
"We miss you, mate."
Longbottom chuckled and passed the joint.
Hermione woke up to the sound of the rain. She opened one eye and realized it was too early. Her magic faded and the disco-ball was no longer present. Crooks slept right next to her, her arm wrapped around his ginger body. She checked her watch, it was five in the morning. She lay in her bed watching the rain with one eye until she fell asleep again.
The fireplace sparked green.
"Hermione!" she heard her name.
She didn't move. Ginny Weasley jumped on her bed, scaring the beast away with an unhappy "meow". Hermione growled and hid her face under a pillow.
"M'sorry, I have 20 minutes before the training. Are you okay?"
"Asleep," muffled Hermione.
Ginny looked at her with a smile and put her arm on Hermione's side, spooning her.
"Did he break up with you?"
Silence. Ginny poked Hermione's ribs.
"Yes."
"What an arse. I'm sorry, Mione"
Ginny got up from the bed and headed to the kitchen.
"Do you want tea?" she yelled from there.
Hermione was wide awake now. She put the pillow aside and gazed at the ceiling with a tortured look.
"Yes," she yelled back.
Her watch showed 5:40am. Hermione sighed deeply. She got up from the bed, carried her vessel to the kitchen then slumped into a dining chair. Ginny placed a big cup of steaming Earl Grey in front of her.
"What are your plans for today?" she asked.
"Cry, cry, watch a movie, cry…" Hermione mumbled.
"If you want, after training we can go shopping, my treat," Ginny suggested with a smile.
"No, no, no shopping. Budgeting!"
"I said it's my treat, Percy", Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come on, I'll get you a book or something. And ice cream. Sounds good?"
Hermione looked at Ginny, reminding herself that she was just trying to be supportive, and Hermione should appreciate it. She smiled warmly at the ginger girl who was sipping on an aromatic fruity tea.
"Do you want to go to the movies? My dad and I are going to this niche movie theater where they usually show old films, and they're showing "Ghost" today. It's a great movie, really, I think you'll like it."
"I'd love to! You never took me to the movers before. If the story is anything like Nearly Headless Nick's life achievements, please pick a different mover. I'll be back around 12pm alright?"
"Movie. You know, 6 hours of quidditch doesn't sound healthy to me."
"Oh, love, you're the last person I'll be discussing quidditch with, no offense." Ginny smiled at Hermione, kissed her cheek, and went to the fireplace.
"See ya," she yelled from the living room.
Hermione curled her lip and sipped her tea.
Pansy applied makeup to Theo. She started with a thick black line on both eyes, looking at her work critically. She moved his face from side to side and then took an eyeshadow palette. She dipped the brush into a rich purple color and then smudged it all over his eyelids. She took another brush and proceeded to blend it with the eyeliner to get perfect smokey eyes. Then she moved her wand and a bit of glitter appeared on his temples and cheekbones.
"You're gorgeous" she said, satisfied with her work.
Theo smiled at her - "Thank you, Pans."
They were in a luxurious penthouse suite with a panoramic view of Paris, the Eiffel Tower standing proudly in the distance. Pansy and Theo sat on a plush sofa in a huge room decorated in a tasteful modern style with a white palette and golden accents.
Draco, fresh from the shower, entered the room with only a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair still damp. The tattoo on his back came to life: a giant dragon watched over everybody around, its big leathery wings spread across Draco's upper back.
"Pans," he nodded.
"Hiya, dear."
"Where's Blaise?"
"Shopping" said Pansy and Theo.
Draco returned to his room, opened a large wardrobe and picked simple black trousers and a white shirt. He went back to the drawing room, kissed Pansy's temple, and sat next to her.
"How's everything?" he asked.
She shrugged.
"Longbottom is an addict," said Theo.
Pansy gave Theo a look, and Draco pursed his lips.
"He has problems, okay? But he is not an addict. He only smokes. I just don't know what to do," she said, sounding defeated.
"Get him to St. Mungo, aren't there healers who can help? Remember when Montague and Flint had too much Alihotsy powder in fifth year? I'm pretty sure they went to St. Mungo's," said Theo.
"He refuses to! I've tried talking to him, all the Gryffindors have tried talking to him, it's like he's not even there", she sighed. "Whatever, I don't want to talk about it."
"Breakfast?" suggested Draco.
The Slytherins nodded. Draco clapped his hands twice, and a young house-elf appeared in front of them, wearing a suit. French elves were very different from the British ones. The elf stood there with a lifted chin, awaiting their orders.
"Monsieur Nott, Monsieur Malfoy, Mademoiselle Parkinson," he said with a high-pitch. French elves didn't bow.
"We'd like to have breakfast on the balcony. 2 latte's, one black coffee with a dash of hazelnut creamer, the usual menu and bring some fresh peonies for mademoiselle," said Draco.
The elf nodded and apparated. Pansy warmly smiled at Draco. The three of them went to the huge balcony with the best view of Paris. They took their seats around a garden table where the food was already waiting for them and a lush bouquet of pink peonies in a vase.
"It's not their growing season," Pansy said with a chuckle.
"Don't Longbottomise me," Draco smirked.
"When are you guys coming back to London?"
"We've got 2 more shows," said Theo, making a pout, "this week in Paris and next week in New York. After that we've decided to take a couple months off to work on the album."
"'Graveyard roses'," said Draco.
"What? Posh," Pansy snickered. "I don't like the name," she added, sipping her coffee.
Theo ripped a croissant apart and dipped a piece into the latte in front of him, his Vivienne Westwood cufflinks glimmering in the sun. Theo was in his dramatic Vivienne Westwood model era, currently wearing a vintage white ruffled blouse, unbuttoned around the throat, purple and green tartan trousers, leather platform boots, and every possible piece of jewelry he could find. But he looked dashing, no doubt about that.
"How's that posh? It's symbolic!" said Draco, annoyed.
"Are we the roses? I'm literally a pansy" she chuckled, "no-no-no, come up with something else."
Draco scoffed, and Theo smirked.
"I've told you."
"Shut up, Theo."
Pansy laughed.
"It's my birthday soon and I want to have a party," she started, "like 'to invite absolutely everyone I know' kind of party."
"Are you asking us to come?" asked Theo.
"Yes."
"Why, of course. Blaise probably won't say no, as long as he has something to drink, he is good. Dray?"
Draco took a pause while he was chewing on a cinnamon bun.
"Fine," he said finally.
"And… Also… If I asked you really nicely…"
"Yeah, I'll sing."
Pansy beamed at him, and Draco curled his lip.
Hermione sat at her desk in her small, windowless office at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The room was cluttered and stuffy. She was looking at a pile of papers in front of her and feeling defeated. She never wanted to admit that she felt… Insignificant in here. She was doing an important job and, and, and… It was important, yes. She would see the results; she just needed to be smarter and work harder, just like she used to do at Hogwarts. She looked at her watch - barely 30 minutes had passed since she arrived, and Hermione already felt dreadful. And she felt even more dreadful because this was not how she imagined it would be. This inner conflict of expectations meeting reality wasn't anything new to her, but it still hurt. She would be turning 20 soon. Why did she have a feeling that she had made every wrong decision possible? Starting with her relationship (non-existent) and ending with her career path (also non-existent). All the determination she had at the beginning fizzled out once she encountered how little people cared about elves and their rights, and S.P.E.W. in particular. But Hermione pushed and pushed, and it had been almost a year since she started working here, and she had never felt as unaccomplished in her whole entire life.
She sighed and rearranged the papers in front of her. It was a database on every house-elf in wizarding London: their names, pictures, and the family they belonged to. That's it, that's the biography. It was infuriating. Not even a birthday date! She wondered if there were house-elves that celebrated birthdays and thought of Dobby.
Hermione was the only employee in the House-Elf sub-department. She didn't even have an interview; the HR from DRCM owl'd her the starting date and office hours, collected her signature, and that was the last time Hermione spoke to that woman.
She was supposed to be the smartest one, the one who had it all figured out, and yet she felt behind. Talentless, even. Compared to her brilliant friends and what they were doing with their lives, Hermione felt like a complete loser. Ginny was training for the Holyhead Harpies, not in the main team yet, but Hermione knew it was one of the best quidditch teams of all time. Harry and Ron were already full-time working Aurors. Parvati and Lavender started a business. Seamus became what he called 'an explosive artist'. Dean started professionally playing muggle football. Neville? Well, maybe Neville didn't count. Luna was a magizoologist, Padma was in International Magical Law. And Draco Malfoy, of all people, was a superstar. That wasn't a name she expected to pop into her head, but now she couldn't shake it off. He was famous. World-wide famous! Well, not just him, but his band "Dark Melody" as well. But it still stung a little bit that someone like Draco Malfoy had it good. If she could go back and talk to her younger self, she would say that it's all a lie, there is no good and bad, and the world sucks. So she could relax and learn how to be more useful instead of spending her life buried in books and then not knowing what to do with herself.
She felt useless. And unloved. And bored out of her skull. The most dullest witch of her age, really.
"Why don't you apply for a job in my department?" Padma said during lunch, after Hermione had complained to her.
"Why don't you apply for a job in my department?" Padma said during lunch, after Hermione had complained to her.
"I'm not done with the elves. I just don't know what to do. I've tried to conduct some interviews, but house-elves stop being cooperative the moment I mention their rights. Their owners look at me like I'm a complete idiot. If I want to prepare a decent case for the Wizengamot to consider and actually have a discussion, let alone change the law, I need something solid. And I don't have anything solid. I don't even have coworkers!" Hermione said, her face annoyed.
Padma chuckled, "Merlin, you really don't."
"That's not funny" snapped Hermione.
"It kind of is," Padma laughed.
"It is," Harry agreed, approaching their table in the Ministry cafeteria.
"Oh, shut up, Harry," Hermione crossed her arms. "Where is Ron?"
"Eeh, he… he is giving you space," Harry mumbled awkwardly.
"Right" Hermione scoffed. He had done what she asked him to do, so why is she so annoyed?
"We would love to have you in our department as well. We always need good detectives," suggested Harry.
She considered it for a second and then - "No, the elves need me."
"Oh, come on, it's a complete waste of time, Mione. You could do thousands of other things. Go teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts or something. These are house-elves! They're fine with their way of life," snapped Padma.
"They're enslaved! They're not fine with their way of life. They've been conditioned into it through years of abuse and institutionalized punishment for any disobedience. Maybe they don't comprehend it at the moment, but how can we expect a prisoner not to fear open spaces after centuries of confinement? Elves are not stupid, they're uneducated, ergo they're capable of learning and have intelligence. Elves are not submissive, they were taught to be submissive, ergo they're capable of forming their own opinions, making their own decisions. Ugh! I wish Dobby was around," she finished with a sad expression.
The table fell silent, Hermione thought she overdone herself again and her friends felt uncomfortable, but…
"Well, there you have it," Harry smiled, "You have proof that they're intelligent, right? Otherwise they wouldn't be considered beings. And if…"
Hermione's face lit up in a way that showed an unmistakable sign of a brilliant idea brewing in her head.
"Oh, Harry! Yes! YES! Of course, why didn't I think of this earlier!"
Hermione stood up and kissed his forehead with passion. Padma and Harry both looked surprised.
"I was coming from the wrong end! Oh, I've got so much work to do and research and…"
But she was already leaving the cafeteria. Padma smirked.
"You have no clue what she is talking about, do you?" she asked.
"None at all. But I get a free sandwich for my struggles" Harry smiled and snatched Hermione's lunch.
He took a bite, chewed and then spat it out.
"Tuna," he grimaced.
"Bleh," Padma stood up and left.
Hermione sat down at her desk, cleared the space, and took out a clean parchment and a pen. She found quills insanely outdated and never used them. Her father had gifted her a Montblanc on her eighteenth birthday when she returned to Hogwarts to complete her schooling properly.
She looked at the parchment and then wrote "E.Q.U.A.L" as a headline, and under it, "Elves' Quest for Unrestricted and Autonomous Liberty". She snickered to herself, thinking of S.P.E.W., and realized how much she had improved since then. Hermione started drawing an elaborate diagram. She looked excited.
Hi! If you're reading this - thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed my little world and I can't wait to show you more.
Right off the bat, I want to tell you that I'm from NYC so I'm trying my best with British English, but I know it's not very British-y, so please bear with me. :)
I always imagined Draco as a musician, but making him a rock star was a little dream I always had, so there you have it, haha. Their music is similar to bands like Bring me the Horizon, Nothing, Fugazi, Placebo and such. Please don't critique my amateur song-writing too much, I'm a bit sensitive about it. For now, I'm not sure how long this story will be, so I'm figuring out the answer while I write.
Anyway, Chapter 2 will be posted soon. :)