Novel - Subject: Harry Potter - Rating: T - Category: Angst/Romance
More Than Just: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how I had to listen to you and Scarhead “not sleeping” the night my father Lucius tried to kill me. I hate how I had said no, more for you than for myself. I hate how I had nearly killed myself for you that night.
Chapter 10 – More Than Just
I hate you, Hermione.
My heart was in pieces. I was completely alone. If I was to be honest about it, I had always been alone; I'd often liked it that way. Everything felt different now.
I had no one to turn to. No one could understand. Not even Hermione could understand. Hermione would not see the pain behind my eyes. We would not run to each other in wild passion. There was no passion left in either of us anymore. We would not make love until the world ended around us. It was a line only befitting a foolish romance novel.
Hermione and I were living through our fears in reality. It would not have a perfect conclusion like a novel. That's why I don't read them. That's why Hermione doesn't read them. Novels are for dreamers. We are not dreamers.
That is why I couldn't see anything painted in the full moon that fateful night. It was a moon and nothing else. To me, it was not a symbol of destiny waiting for me in the woods. It didn't echo the cries of terror in my heart or the shrieks of pain in my soul. It was just a moon.
I had fully believed I was not going to meet with my father. I didn't need more conflict, but I was walking right towards it. Running, really. I was running to my father; I was running to the cold life that had hidden me from the world. I felt the wind all about me, chilling me to the bone. I wore not even the lightest cloak, and the air was brutal.
I was quite used to the cold, though. I liked it. I deserved it.
Lucius Malfoy was leaning against a sapling when I found him. He was twirling his wand in his fingertips as though it were a toy and he, a small boy. Beside my elder Malfoy lay a horrifying sight, indeed. A freshly fallen young unicorn was just a few centimeters from his feet. My stomach gave a lurch looking at it.
"Good evening, Draco." Lucius said, coolly. "I was beginning to think you had forsaken your father."
"Pansy wouldn't let me get away easily," I lied, effortlessly. Something about being around him brought it out in me.
Lucius chuckled, probably lost in some memory I did not wish to learn. "Ah, yes," he sniggered. "I suppose we cannot have the future bearer of the next heir to the Malfoy legacy displeased so early in the courtship, can we?"
I cringed, but Lucius didn't notice, grey eyes still focused on the twirling of his wand. He straightened up from the tree, and I could see he had unearthed it a bit from his weight. That made two innocent young things he had tampered with in this wood. Would I be the third? Or did I no longer deserve that label?
"Stupid animal," he said of the unicorn. "The Dark Lord asked me to bring one back to him, if I saw one. I wasn't going to bother with searching, but it nearly ran at me."
Though I knew it to be false, some part of me wanted to believe it had deserved its fate. Moreover, his words meant that this had not been the reason behind the letter. A thought that frightened me greatly.
Lucius' eyes turned, finally, to consider me. My heart was filled with fear and adrenaline. He sneered, and my hand instinctively twitched toward the wand in my pocket. His hand dipped into his own pocket, and I stood there, waiting.
He produced a photograph from his pocket, and I took it. It was a picture of a girl who looked no older than thirteen. She had extraordinarily long, wavy brown hair. She was sitting in the grass dressed in formal attire with ornate Celtic jewelry sparkling in the sun. I tried to understand why this girl would be of any importance to me.
"Tonight, I want you to bring that girl to me," Lucius said. I started to wonder if he hadn't lost what was left of his sanity.
"She's just a muggle," I said, staring at the still picture. "Why the Hell would you care about her? Of what importance could this muggle possibly be?"
"Don't ask questions," Lucius answered. "The Dark Lord wants her. That should be enough for you."
I realized by the look on his face that he had no more clue to the meaning behind this mission than I did. That gave me a momentary touch of pleasure. Looking at the picture again, it was lost. The girl was laughing. Her blue eyes sparkled with such mirth that I felt a bit jealous of her. This was a life I would never have. I stared at her face, and after a moment, I realized I didn't care if she had it either.
"Where is she?' I asked. "What do I have to do?"
Lucius's face was proud and arrogant. He thought I was doing this to please him. He couldn't have been more wrong. I would only do things for myself now. Lucius handed me a gleaming silver spoon with a tiny version of the Malfoy crest at the end of the handle. He waved his wand over it, saying the incantation to turn it into a portkey.
"Bring her back alive," he said, firmly when he finished. I was glad. I didn't care what happened to her, but I didn't like the idea of tarnishing myself with a mere muggle's death.
"Right," I said.
"Go now, Draco," Lucius said. His face was still smug; it made my stomach turn. I knew I should have fought him. Made sure he knew the meaning behind my actions was not to serve him. In fact, I shouldn't have agreed to it at all. Whatever he and the Dark Lord wanted, I should have made my mission to stop. No matter how ridiculous it seemed. But fighting Lucius for some muggle girl I didn't even know would have been foolish.
"Yes, Sir," I said. I would not be so stupid.
I gripped the spoon that had been laying flat in my hand, and I felt the pulling and spinning sensation as I traveled by portkey. My arrival in the backyard was not pleasant. Something about the portkey's effect on my current health made me feel quite dizzy.
I fell to the grass and laid there for a long time, my right side against the ground. I began to feel a bizarre happiness move through me. I was entranced as though in a pleasant dream. I felt content to stay as I was forever. I never wanted to leave.
I moved only when a gentle kiss of snow fell upon my exposed cheek. I rolled onto my back and watched the flakes drifting downward. My vision, although still blurry, was now bearable. But I still didn't want to leave. Something in the back of my mind told me that this was strange, but I didn't understand what sort of defense a house full of muggles could have on it.
Though I didn't want to, I eventually pulled myself up. I tried to keep the image of the laughing muggle girl first in my mind, and with that, the anger it inspired. The fire burned and lit my way through the strange feeling.
The back door was open before I realized I had recited a spell. The house was still, but I heard a bit of light music coming from the nearby staircase. I ascended slowly, trying not to listen. The singing was so soft and airy that it felt like a lullaby. I wanted to forget everything and fall asleep right where I was, but I pushed forward, almost painfully.
Once I reached the hallway, I felt myself drift into oblivion for a moment. I knocked a picture from the wall, and it crashed to the ground. I was suddenly wide awake. I waited for someone to stir. I waited. There was no sign of alertness in the house, so I continued towards the door marked with silver letters spelling "Jane", the source of the music.
I opened the door, carefully. My wand was ready with more vigilance than I would have guessed was needed for such a simple mission. Jane's room was small compared to mine, though not tiny in itself. There were two large bookcases, and books were scattered everywhere. I wondered if this was what Hermione's bedroom looked like. It also contained a vanity where the necklace and earrings from the picture were placed, a large window with a seat, and a desk where a strange contraption was making the music I heard.
I approached the contraption, my wand held high. Whatever it was, it was enchanted. Of that, I was sure. I contemplated how to destroy it, when I received a harsh blow to the head. I whipped around to see the girl from the picture, looking a few years older than the photo and determined. Jane had somehow slipped out of bed without my noticing and hurled one of her many books at me. I had not been defeated, however.
I pointed my wand at her and smirked. "Come quietly, and I won't kill your family."
Jane nodded, but she was backing away from me into her bedside table. She grabbed the vase on top of it and threw it, next. My seeker reflexes kicked in. I destroyed the vase in midair, causing a loud gasp from Jane.
"I guess I'll just have to take you, then," I said, angrily. "Stupefy!"
Jane collapsed to the floor. So pathetic. I gathered her in my arms and quickly ran for the stairs. The vase's explosion had finally woken the other inhabitants of the house, and I didn't want any more trouble from that ridiculous family of muggles. I ran out into the yard which was now covered in a thin layer of snow.
I couldn't see the portkey, and for a moment, I panicked. I sank to my knees where I thought I had left it and dug around furiously, still holding Jane. I heard upset voices, just as my fingers brushed against the cold metal. And we fell away from their sight.
I crashed to the ground, the still unconscious Jane breaking my fall. I pulled away from her and leaned against a tree, looking for my father, who was nowhere in site. I felt sick and agitated, and I wanted to be done with the irrational mission I had been given. I glared at the muggle girl, who was keeping me from my warm bed.
The moonlight broke through the trees now, and shone upon us as I waited. Closer inspection of Jane showed that she actually looked a bit like Hermione. Her hair was almost the same shade of brown and wavy, though not nearly untamable as Hermione's. After staring at her for awhile, Jane's facial features even had hints of Hermione. But then, my judgment was a bit off.
I was probably painting Hermione into the scene. Into the happy picture. Into the strange muggle home. Into everything, as always. I hadn't been jealous just for myself. I had been jealous for Hermione's sake. Why did this silly muggle girl deserve happiness when Hermione did not even have much will to live? But Jane would no longer have that world. I wasn't sure what the Dark Lord wanted with her, but it would be bad.
Suddenly, Jane was awake. She sat up, looking scared and disheveled. 'Where am I?' she asked, looking at me. "What have you done?"
I pulled out my want to stun her again, but a different answer came from the shadows. "Crucio!"
Jane shrieked in pain, and I cringed in spite of myself. Lucius emerged from the trees, his cold eyes enjoying the pain his magic had inflicted. As the curse faded, Jane curled up, sobbing, and I tensed waiting for the curse to be cast again.
But it didn't come again. Lucius was looking at me now. "Get up, Draco."
I followed the order.
"I'm pleased with your performance, and I'm sure the Dark Lord will be as well," he said, proudly. "You'll come with me to present the muggle filth and receive the Dark Mark as your reward."
My heart leapt out of my chest with fear. "No!" I shouted without thinking.
"Wh-what!" Lucius hissed, shaking with malice. ""How… dare… you. You will accept the mark!"
He turned his wand on me, but for once, I was faster. "Cruc-"
"Stupefy!" Lucius Malfoy crashed to the ground, and I had never felt so scared for my life. Jane looked up at me, her tear streaked face echoing my own fear.
I kicked the silver spoon towards her. "Grab it!" I shouted. She did so and vanished from my sight.
One thought invaded my terrified mind. 'Run.' I didn't look back. He wouldn't stay down for long. I finally broke through the trees onto the Hogwarts Grounds, fully convinced that my Father was now on my trail.
I did the only thing I could think of. I shot a quick spell at the gamekeeper's hut. Hopefully, he would hear his window shatter and come to my aid. I kept running, but I did chance a look back and didn't see him. My father, perhaps scared of the giant of a man, had not come through the woods. I did not stop running, however, until I was safely inside the doors of Hogwarts Castle.
I sank to my knees with exhaustion. He wouldn't come after me. He couldn't. There was too much a chance of detection. If the stupid half-giant wasn't already alerted, it would only be a matter of time. The thought startled me up, scared of my own exposure. With all of my strength I forced myself up to my room.
I hate how I had to listen to you and Scarhead "not sleeping" the night my f- Lucius tried to kill me.
The common room was surprisingly empty. I hurried up to my room and began undressing for bed when I heard something. The noises made my breath catch. Hermione was moaning but not in her sleep. Not her usual painful cries of sadness and torment. No, these moans were of pure pleasure.
I had never been attacked by such a wide array of emotions at once. All of them hit me, initially, then came back one by one to stab me again. First was anger. My wand was clamped in my hand. I truly feared I was to break it. My head was spinning harder than from Jane's book. I crumbled to the ground, hyperventilating with rage. I bit into my lip and soon tasted soon tasted blood in my mouth. I released my wand to claw at the bedding beneath me.
It wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Violence shook my body. I hurled myself into my dresser, letting it fall to the ground. The noise felt good to my ears. It drowned out the screams in my head… not to mention the noise from Hemione's room. The bed was next. The mattress, sheets, and pillows spilled to the floor. Having no other furniture, I ravaged them next. This could not compensate, I realized quickly. It would not stop my thoughts. It would not stop the noise. So, I pushed my head against the ruined pillows and screamed.
I have never been a screaming person. Hermione had done so much to destroy all that I was. I didn't like this feeling. Screaming made me feel weak. I was not to be weak to my emotions. This was a Malfoy rule that I must always follow. The only one that really made sense. I found I could not stop myself from screaming once I had started, though. I clutched the pillow and bit into its material with all of my control. But I still felt it coming.
I hate how I had said no, more for you than for myself.
No… I could not cry. Malfoys didn't cry. I would not betray myself in such a way. I would die before I let a tear escape into the cruel world. Trembling hands grasped the carpeting as though anchoring me down. I would not be sucked away. My emotions would not capture me.
I was choking, and I liked it. The pillow was choking me. And then, I realized my getaway. Death. They say only cowards consider suicide. I thought of it as more valiant than becoming susceptible to the world around me.
But there was a problem… my wand was gone. I groped about my disheveled room but I could not see it. A sob caught my ears. And then it happened. A tear fell. It was like the screaming, I realized. Only it was worse. I could not hinder the process. The more I ground my fists into my eyes, the harder I cried.
I hate how I had nearly killed myself for you that night.
I crawled into my pile of bed dressings, taking guilty pleasure in my release. I could no longer hear the noise from next door, but in my head, I still heard the miserable sounds haunting me. I always would.
As I wept, I felt a presence sweep into the room. I didn't look up to see who it was. I didn't need to. There was only one being, who would come to comfort me now. I did not recoil when I felt Lahela's touch on my back. My guardian angel had returned... or my sanity had departed.
It didn't matter which. All was lost to me now.
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