|A World Apart
Author: lolagirl PM
Draco Malfoy is visited by Hermione Granger in the middle of the night. But how is this possible? She's been dead for two months now... NOT a ghost story. DHr.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Mystery - Hermione G. & Draco M. - Chapters: 31 - Words: 141,703 - Reviews: 2,702 - Favs: 2,463 - Follows: 571 - Updated: 07-20-06 - Published: 09-09-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2573077
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: Okay, so…I started writing this fic about halfway through my last one. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Now I'm not so sure. But I thought I would upload it anyway, to see if anyone would be interested in it. I think it might end up being a little too confusing, and maybe a little too weird, and I'll probably end up being too lazy to continue with it - which is a shame, because I already have so much of the plot planned out. I know the summary really sucks, but for right now, I cannot come up with one that doesn't just give the whole plot away. So hopefully, you'll bear with me.
Just to let everyone know, this will be D/Hr...kinda. You'll see what I mean. And the Draco in this story won't be too much of a softie, for anyone who is worried. :P
But anyway, please tell me what you think. Is it good? Bad? So-so? Really stupid? Really, really stupid? You can be honest. :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I never will.
"What's funny?" he asked. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He only did this so that he would have an excuse to brush up against the soft, smooth skin of her face as he pulled his hand away. It didn't matter that the amount of contact was miniscule; he could still feel electricity running through his veins whenever he touched her.
She snuggled closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. She grabbed his hand; when she did so, that electricity he had felt a moment ago multiplied itself by a thousand. It was almost too much for him to handle, but somehow he managed to keep his cool. Somehow, he managed not to throw the girl beside him onto the ground and do things to her that would make even him blush.
"Life is funny," she finally answered.
He arched his eyebrow at her. "Is that so? And just how is life funny?"
"Well," she said, a devious grin forming on her face. "Take our lives, for instance. You and I come from completely different worlds. Who would have ever thought that we would be here right now, having this conversation?"
He chuckled. "This isn't so far-fetched, you know. Why wouldn't we be having this conversation right now? Or any other conversation for that matter? We may have come from different worlds, but we both live in this one right now. That is all that matters."
"I suppose," she said. She smiled warmly at him. For a moment, they remained staring into each other's eyes. And then, as always, she said sadly, "I have to go."
His face fell at her words. "No," he said firmly. "You don't have to. Not this time."
She nodded sadly. "Yes, this time. Every time."
"But you just got here," he protested. "But we just -"
"Shh," she said, silencing him with one single finger over his lips. "You have to let me go."
"No I don't," he said simply. "I can't."
"You can, you just choose not to," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "You are so stubborn. You always were."
"I'm stubborn?" he cried. "Well what about you? You are the one who keeps leaving and refuses to stay! It's not fair!"
"That's another funny thing about life," she mumbled. "It's never fair. Even when you think it ought to be, it slaps you in the face and reminds you that you have absolutely no control over anything that happens."
He frowned at her. "That's depressing."
"It really is," she agreed. Slowly, a smile began to return to her lips. She took her hand and placed it on the side of his face. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Her touch had magical powers – it was always able to lull him into a false sense of security.
While the touch of her hand soothed him, the feel of her lips against his drove him absolutely wild. She knew this, of course, that's why she was kissing him now. That's why she always kissed him at this very moment – she needed to distract him from the fact that in a moment, she would be gone. Again.
He clung to her tightly, with more strength than usual. He couldn't bear to lose her again. So he kissed her with all of his might, and pulled her so closely to him that it seemed impossible that they were actually two separate bodies.
When the kiss ended and she backed away, he kept his eyes shut. He didn't want to open them. He knew what he would see if he did.
But as always, there was something inside of him that was forcing him to look. As always, his eyes flew open to view the horror that stood before him.
As he stood helplessly and watched, a long, deep gash suddenly formed on her neck, and now the girl he loved was dying. He didn't cry out or try to save her; not because he couldn't, or because he didn't want to, but because he knew there would be no point. Nothing could save her now.
She stared at him in shock. He wasn't really sure why; she must have known this was coming. It always came. As usual, she touched the wound delicately, and then held her hand out in front of her face. She stared indifferently at the blood that now stained her fingers. Her gaze shifted over to his. "I didn't feel a thing," she assured him; her voice filled with such sadness that it broke his heart into a million different pieces.
And then, she was gone.
He proceeded to follow through with the same old routine: every time he had this dream, he would wake up, get out of bed, grab his wand, mumble "Lumos" and exit to the common room. From there, he would walk over to the Head Girl's room and pause at the door, listening. Of course, he would never hear anything. Sometimes, he would stop at the door, then leave after a minute of softly banging his head up against it. But this time, he placed his hand on the knob and turned it.
Her room looked the exact same way it had two months ago. Her bed was neatly made and topped off with a couple of frilly pillows and a teddy bear. On her nightstand were a few framed pictures of her and the other two members of The Golden Trio. In each picture, they were smiling and laughing, and occasionally she would roll her eyes at her redheaded friend who was partial to making faces. Draco scowled down at the picture and wondered if she ever glanced down at the picture herself and noticed the way her scarfaced friend was looking at her – as if she were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Well I'll be damned, he thought bitterly. Potter probably did love her after all. He grunted and placed the frame back onto the table. He picked up another one, similar to the one he had just set down. So many of the pictures scattered all over her room were of them; only a few were of her and the Weaslette, or of her and some other random Gryffindor classmate. He guessed the framed picture that sat directly in the middle of them all was of her parents. He figured this mainly because it was the only picture not moving. In other words, it had been taken with a Muggle camera and developed the traditional Muggle way. Draco sighed. She had so many pictures scattered everywhere, of so many people who were near and dear to her heart. It was no surprise to see that there was no picture of him anywhere, but it still hurt nevertheless.
He sat down on her bed, picked up the stupid teddy bear and scoffed. A grown girl with a teddy bear. He would've loved to have known she'd had this; he could have made fun of her for it. She had probably slept with it every night, pretending it was Boy Wonder she was holding in her arms. At this thought, Draco threw the teddy bear across the room as hard as he could. It slammed up against her dresser; the force of it knocking one of her precious framed pictures onto the floor, shattering the glass. Feeling guilty about his sudden fit of anger, he picked the picture up from the floor. Despite the fall, The Golden Trio was still smiling and laughing and acting as though they did not have a care in the world.
"Damn you, Granger," he spat. He could have sworn that when he spoke, the girl in the picture looked directly at him. The greatest thing about pictures being developed by magic was that the scene would continue to move for eternity. So even if the girl in the picture was gone, you could always remember the way she looked when she smiled and blinked and gave an exasperated look. You could always remember the way she looked when she was looking at you.
"Stupid mudblood," he said to the picture. "Stupid, bushy-headed, buck-toothed bookworm." He let out a sound that was a mix between a sob and a laugh as he gently placed the frame back where it belonged, muttering a cleaning spell to get rid of the shards of glass. He picked up the bear and held it out in front of him.
"So you're the lucky git who got to spend every night in bed with her," he said, chuckling. He sat back down on her bed, placing the bear in the exact same spot it had been moments before. He was ashamed of himself. He had come into her room in the middle of the night and practically desecrated it. She would have greatly disapproved of his behavior. She most likely would have scolded him for it, and then continued to lecture him about respecting other people's things.
Damn, he missed her so much.
The most wonderful thing about having living quarters to himself was that he could sit here, like he was now, and succumb to the emotions that racked his entire body. He had been taught growing up to bottle up all of his feelings and to never show the world his weaknesses. But alone in Hermione Granger's bedroom, where everything reminded him of her, those feelings were too strong to keep inside. He felt that if he were to keep them hidden away, his heart would explode in his chest.
So he sat there and for the first time, he cried.
Hours later he woke up lying on her bed, her teddy bear in his arms. If only the Slytherins could see him now – they'd probably sell this story to the Daily Prophet. He could just picture the headline in his head: DRACO MALFOY SLEEPS WITH STUFFIES – Slytherins everywhere cringe. This thought gave him a slight chuckle – which was quite welcome, given the night he'd had.
Glancing down at the ray of sunlight that was peeking through the curtains and shining across the bed, Draco groaned. It was morning already - meaning it was time to start a brand new day…though today would be the same as it was every day. Things still hadn't quite gotten back to normal yet, despite the fact it had been two whole months. Potter and the two Weasleys managed to drag themselves to classes everyday, though just barely. And even a few of the Professors were still having a hard time. They would be in the middle of a lesson, take one look at the empty chair in the classroom, and they would just pause – trying so hard to hide the pained expressions on their faces, so that the students didn't know what they were thinking, or who they were thinking about.
But Draco knew. And for once in his life, he could relate to them all.
Meanwhile, Draco himself had a hard time making it through the day. He rarely ever paid attention in class, and his grades had started dropping considerably – so much so, he was surprised they hadn't replaced him as Head Boy yet. Actually, it wasn't as surprising as it should have been. After all, they were already missing a Head Girl (in two whole months, no one had even attempted to give any other female student the title). Appointing a new student as Head Boy this well into the year, after everything that had happened, would probably not be advisable. Besides, there weren't too many other students who were qualified for the position – except for, of course, Harry Potter, who would most likely turn the offer down, for obvious reasons.
So lucky Draco had nothing to worry about. He could probably do anything short of burning down the school, and he would not lose his Head Boy badge. How wonderful for him. He'd get to stay in this luxury suite. Alone. Without a Head Girl by his side.
Placing the teddy bear back onto the bed, exactly where he'd found it, Draco mustered up all the energy he could to leave the room and get ready to start the day.
He left her room without looking back and proceeded to get ready for classes. He still felt ashamed of the way he'd been acting last night, and he wanted to try and forget about it for right now. Like every other day for the past two months, he told himself that today was going to be different. Today, he was going to put everything behind him and move on. And like every other day, he knew he was lying - because today was different. It had been exactly two months ago today that his world had been torn apart and ripped to shreds...exactly two months ago today that the only important thing in his life had been violently taken away from him.
It had been exactly two months ago today that Hermione Granger died.