Fallen Dynasty (Dramione)

Nineteen - The Explanation

Nemo sine vitio est

No one is without fault.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Holy fucking shit— She was telling the truth."

Neville's shocked voice hung in the air as they turned to look at him. He was starting to stand, eyes piercing through Draco's unwavering. He saw just what Hermione was ranting about the first time she saw Reaper up close. Only the closest people to him would know without a shadow of a doubt who those eyes belonged to.

"Draco Malfoy, you're alive, you son of a bitch."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Two piercing, grey eyes blink in rapid succession once, twice, three times at Neville's blunt statement. Hermione wasn't sure if Draco's surprised reaction was to the "you're alive" or the "you son of a bitch" segment of his outburst.

Perhaps, it was the "Draco Malfoy" and the fact that Neville Longbottom, a person who his vague memories recounted as a weak and awkward Gryffindor, recognized exactly who was under that gold mask.

Hermione watches Draco's fist that was angrily clutching his wand flex for a moment, the hawthorn wood trembling under the tight grip, before he relaxes ever so slightly.

Despite this, Hermione couldn't relax in the slightest and neither could Neville because the air still crackled with so much dark magic and energy that they were drowning in it.

A near growl, full of frustration, tears from his throat as he steps forward, gripping Hermione's arm in a vice grip and yanking her behind him. His broad figure towers over like a broody skyscraper and she glares at his back, covered by his black cloak.

"Holy shit. This isn't happening. Holy fucking shit," Neville is still in the midst of a mental breakdown, his eyes welling with tears as a laugh of pure disbelief escapes him.

"Told you," Hermione couldn't help but childishly quip as she pokes her head from behind Draco's back — who quickly sidestepped to hide her from Neville's line of sight again.

Once again, she is glaring holes into Draco's back.

"I just— I can't— Wow," Neville breathes shakily, hands on his knees. He stares up at Draco in wonder, his precariously broken looking arm out of mind. "How is this possible?"

"Long story!" Hermione jumps up so she could see over Draco's shoulders, bouncing into Neville's view before her head of curls disappear again. She jumps again. "He can't remember."

His gaze darts from her honey brown eyes to the pair of menacing, glaring ones peering at him through the golden mask.

"The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Draco snaps, tired of the shock and awed staring already.

"Oh." He gulps. "Would you believe me if I told you we were bloody good mates at one point in time?"

"Unlikely." Draco grunts back, his timbre clipped, dry, and highly annoyed.

"Didn't think so." Neville trails off as two more pairs of footsteps make their way into the crumbling armory building.

Theodore and Blaise waltz into view, their cloaks covered in smears of blood but their faces were triumphant. They survey the situation before them with raised brows.