The Girl Who Lived ☆ D. MALFOY

Chapter 46

A/N- hi guys! here's the beginning of the deathly hallows part, and it's here sooner than planned! it's kinda long, but it's really just to transition into the last book. also, i've done what i hope is all the editing to the first few chapters if you want to go read those. if you don't, it won't affect the rest of it, so you don't have to, but it's likely much better than the first time you read it and it will have some bits that add to characters. anyways, here's the update. enjoy!

Word Count: 1693

"Harry, what's happened to you?" I ask incredulously as I turn the corner to hear my brother let loose a string of curse words while attempting to elevate his profusely bleeding right hand.

"Nothing." Harry muttered bitterly, rushing to the bathroom to run his wound under the cold water of the sink. Remnants of a broken teacup lay pitifully in front of the door, which I simply stepped over to enter mine and Harry's shared bedroom.

My side of the room was on the left where the bed was perfectly made, a Slytherin banner hung above the headboard, and many moving polaroids of me and my friends were scattered across the wall above my pastel pink sheets. My school trunk and broomstick were stowed underneath the bed with a few books I'd had out the previous night for some light reading.

My twin brother's side of the room however, was the complete opposite. Granted, he was in the process of cleaning out his trunk, but for lack of a better word, he was a mess. His maroon and blue sheets were nearly halfway off the side of the bed, some of the posters and pictures from his wall had fallen off onto the bed or were stuck in the crack between it and the wall. Many broken trinkets possibly from our first year at Hogwarts had been thrown mercilessly onto the floor, his trunk, or the overflowing trash bin beside the door. Needless to say, he never was one for cleanliness. I fear for the life of whoever his wife might be.

Glancing over his disaster of a living space, my eyes fall to the small night stand beside my bed. More importantly, what was on it. A sleek cream coloured envelope with one word on the front in my swirly handwriting was laid beside a slightly larger package encased messily in light grey wrapping paper. The package is a gift I had yet to be able to send. A muggle watch made of unblemished white gold and minuscule emerald engravings lay untouched inside its wrappings, just waiting to be worn by its owner. However, it's owner didn't have it in his possession just yet. It was meant to be worn by Draco Malfoy as a coming of age gift from me, and his seventeenth birthday had long since passed, but I was cautious of sending it. I was well aware of who he was sharing his family's manor with, and although the possibility of the owl being tracked back to me was slim, it wasn't impossible. Harry disagreed strongly with the idea of me sending the gift anyway, saying that a watch wasn't worth the risk of us both being killed. He may have been right, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about it. I had been looking forward to giving Draco this gift, and had known exactly what it would be since last Christmas when he gave me a similarly made necklace that still rests gently on my collarbones today. Sadly, the lives we live tend to get in the way of the little things I would give anything to enjoy. The image of his eyes was often what got me to sleep at night rather than replaying the scenes of that evening atop the astronomy tower. Easily, I could picture the oh so familiar orbs that reminded me of ashes and smoke blowing in the wind from a distant fire that burned everything around us to the ground.

So we could be alone, but alone together.

"Lies!" My brother bellows, jerking me violently from my much needed daydreams. I turned to him with a start and a mildly annoyed expression while trying to regain my footing after nearly toppling over at the sound of his voice. I hadn't noticed him enter our room, but sure enough, he was standing beside his now much neater bed with a snarl gracing his features and a crumpled Daily Prophet newspaper in hand. Facing up was the article interviewing Rita Skeeter and her views on Dumbledore, as well as what she thought of me and Harry. I'd read it earlier in the day, expressing my anger silently as opposed to Harry's roar of indignation that startled our next door neighbor. And although his reaction was justified given Skeeter's choice of lies in this particular article, I still didn't take kindly to his control of his temper. Or lack-there-of. Rather than kicking or throwing something, as I had expected him to do, he simply sat down harshly on the middle of his bed while glaring a hole through the rug in front of him.

I gave a silent sigh of understanding before going to sit beside him at the end of his still unmade bed. Gently, I removed the crushed up piece of paper from his hand, and tucked it into the side pocket of his rucksack for him to decide what to do with later. We simply sat together in silence for a moment, distinctly aware of the other's presence, but also lost in our own respective minds.

It wasn't until the sound of the front door slamming echoed up the stairs, and the shout of, "Oi, you two!" met our ears from the living room that we made sounds of annoyance in response, but made no attempt to answer. Only when Uncle Vernon bellowed, "POTTER'S!" at the base of the steps did we slowly get to our feet.

"You sure took your time," said Uncle Vernon irritably as we made our way into the living area. I rolled my eyes, but said nothing else for the time being. "Sit." he told us shortly and we both took our seats in two separate arm chairs. In order to annoy the Dursley's as much as possible, I lounged lazily in the chair, leaning backwards into the cushion and placing my arm over the top of it's back as well as throwing my legs over the armrest. Harry did quite the opposite, sitting straight up, although visibly just as irritated as I was on the inside. I glanced to the left of the room where our Aunt Petunia stood stiffly in a peach coloured coat made for travelling while our burly cousin Dudley was barely on his feet and dressed in a leather jacket. I turned my attention back to Vernon quickly, but my interest was lost as soon as I heard him and Harry discussing the terms of the Dursley's departure from the house as though we had not already explained everything at least a dozen times in extraneous detail.

"The house? What house?" I heard Harry ask incredulously in response to something Vernon had said.

"This house!" Vernon exclaimed, the abnormally large vein in his forehead looking as though it were ready to pop. "Our house! House prices are skyrocketing around here. You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus-pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and— "

"Are you out of your mind?" said Harry, seemingly just as lost as I was.

"You think we're trying to get your house? Are you truly as dumb as you look?" I exclaimed, leaning forward in my seat ever so slightly. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of indignation, and went to scold me, but Vernon batted her away so as to continue debating over this continued nonsense.

"In case you've forgotten, we've already got a house," I noticed how he said 'we' despite Sirius having been his godfather and not mine, "my godfather left it. So why would I want this one? All the happy memories?" Vernon paused his pacing as I struggled to turn my snort of laughter into a hacking cough. I allowed them to continue their argument as I mindlessly picked at my fingernails, wanting nothing more than to be back in the comfort of my own bed rather than sitting here and reviewing something we'd already explained a thousand times. Only when Harry advanced on our Uncle Vernon did I start paying the slightest bit of attention once again.

"These accidents aren't accidents! The crashes and explosions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the news. People are disappearing and dying and he's behind it. Voldemort. I've told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs; they're caused by dementors, and if you can't remember what those are, ask your son!" Harry exclaimed, causing Dudley's stubby hands to jump over his mouth. Once our cousin explains to his parents that he wants to go with the wizards meant to protect him, the matter was dropped, and Harry reminded us that Hestia and Dedalus would arrive in five minutes.

I sprinted back up the stairs to finish packing my rucksack with the things I'd need. I ended up needing to place an undetectable extension charm on the bag in order to fit all my necessities, including many different books on a variety of subjects I hoped would help us to find the dreaded myriad of Horcruxes. Harry joined me in our room, fiddling with the opening of his bag in anticipation, but staying quiet as I stood to examine the two oddly important things sitting on my nightstand.

"Harry," I said barely above a whisper, "do you think I'll ever be able to give this to him?" I heard him shuffle behind me, then he was standing beside me, studying the grey wrappings with a conflicted expression.

"I'm honestly not sure, Y/n," he says with a quiet sigh. "You're both on very different sides of all this." Before I could respond, or attempt to get him to clarify, the doorbell rang downstairs causing Harry to glance at the open doorway of our bedroom. He hesitated for a moment, sparing me a glance, before making his way out and down the stairs to the front door.

As one last action with the thought of hope on my mind, I shoved the grey parcel and its accompanying letter into my bag before throwing it over my shoulder and rushing downstairs.