Draco's POV
"The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers."
― Rachel Vince
It was silent. Yet it was the loud kind - the one which is more uncomfortable than say, Potter cussing me out at the top of his lungs. The unsaid, unheard thoughts and words were like slow poison sneaking into my system. The walls of the small room seemed to be caving in and I was starting to panic because I knew what was to come and I wasn't ready to lose my shit in front of Potter and definitely not Granger.
After staring holes through the coffee table for another ten minutes, Potter finally pulled out his wand and brought it to his temples. Slowly, he retrieved it and along with it came a familiar shiny silver strand of memory. Conjuring a vial with a flick of my wand, I put it on the table for him. He tossed the memory into the vial and for a moment we both watched as it writhed and frothed in the vial, like a snake.
"That's the memory of the last fight. . . In the clearing, when your mother saved me." He told me gravely. I avoided his gaze for some reason. Maybe it was the undercurrent of gratefulness in his tone or the fact that he knew as well as any - that my mother's actions had been purely selfish- no matter how noble they now seemed to look.
"Last question. . . Being the Chosen One, there was always something or another going on in your life. . Did you ever want to quit? Or run away? Get rid of it all?" I stared at the question scribbled neatly in Granger's writing on the parchment, for a long moment. What the heck was Granger thinking exactly while coming up with these questions? Every single one had been more and more ballistic than the last.
Potter seemed to mull over the question and I could almost see the wheels going into overdrive in his head. He frowned at me as if I'd asked something silly. Well, I kind of had but it was Granger's words not mine.
Speaking of whom, Granger had disappeared halfway through the actual interrogation with an excuse to go to the loo and had yet to return. I could tell how much reliving the war was bothering her, specially talking about everything that happened at the Manor.
"I would be lying if I say I didn't think of quitting. There were times. . .When I-I couldn't help but wonder how my life would have turned out if Voldemort hadn't murdered my parents. During the war, while trying to escape from Death Eater's and facing potentially fatal disasters every five seconds, I was surprised to even have my wits about me by the end. But the problem is," he paused, giving me a small smile, "Gryffindors don't quit or simply runaway."
My eyes snapped to his face as he said it and I could feel the air thicken, almost dramatically as my body launched into defense. The jab, no matter how sophisticatedly delivered cut through me. Narrowing my eyes, I waited for the usual judgmental glare to follow his statement. But it never came. His words had been somewhat provoking, but I could tell they weren't meant for me.
"Hey. . . I didn't mean to. . ." he had caught on my expressions. I shook my head curtly and stood up. He did as well. There was an awkward pause as we both thought of everything that had been said during the interrogation. The faint clicking of the door broke the silence and Granger walked in, her eyes red and slightly puffy.
She had been crying. I felt an odd stirring in the pit of my stomach but I ignored it.
It wasn't like I hadn't ever seen her cry before, I'd caused her to spill more tears than anyone else I knew throughout the years but it still caught me off guard to see her almost vulnerable. Something about the dull brown eyes didn't sit well with me.
"'Mione. . . are you okay?" Potter whispered walking towards her. She nodded her head slowly giving him a weak smile. I turned around and began to gather the scattered parchments from the coffee table as to avoid intruding on them. I was slightly surprised to notice my unexpected civility. I had thought one of us would've ended up in St. Mungo's ten minutes into the whole business but we'd all borne it like mature adults. Guess, something good did turn out of this war?
I almost laughed at the thought.
Not knowing what to do now that we'd done what we'd been there for, I decided to leave. I needed to be on my own for the sake of my sanity anyways. Before either of the two could notice, I had disapparated.
******
It had been a hell of a day. As much as I'd thought it wouldn't effect me, the walls I'd built over the last five months, I could feel them chipping. The onslaught of memories that Potter's recount had brought was sure to give me a month of sleepless nights. I wasn't ready to admit it though. I was stronger than that. I wouldn't turn into a pussy and start crying at the slightest mention of the horrors that plagued my past. I wouldn't let my guards down. I must not.
Tired and in need of solace, I decided to retreat to my haven, away from barmy deatheaters, horcruxes, deaths and memories.
"She'll be here any moment. . ." someone whispered. I stopped in my way to the room of requirement, thoughts of solace and tranquility disappearing from my mind as my war instincts kicked in.
There was a shuffling sound coming from behind the sealed tapestry. Curious, I walked towards it, my wand held at the ready. The voices seemed to be having a heated row. Walking through, I barely managed to cast a protection charm as someone yelled the Cruciatus curse.
My eyes pinched close at the sudden light that emanated from my shield charm and by the time I managed to open them, the caster had already disappeared.
Baffled, I made a run toward the sound of running footsteps. Up numerous flights of stairs, turning corners blindly I chased after the voices but lost them just as I turned into the sixth floor corridor.
Crouching beside the large portrait of Edgar Stroulger, I clutched at my chest trying to stop the piercing pain that coursed through my lungs for having over exerted itself. Just as my beating heart calmed down, I realized where I was. It was the part of the castle reserved for the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students.
Just as I began to walk away, still reeling from the unexpected attack, I almost walked into someone. Stopping just in time, I was met with deep set eyes, looking more eerie in the dim light of the corridor.
"Vee meet again." His thick Bulgarian accent sounded gruff. I looked for any signs of fatigue which could possibly may have been caused by running but he seemed calm enough. Not trusting myself yet to speak coherently, I nodded curtly.
"He killed my parentz too, ven I refused to help him." There was something in his eyes, understanding? Pity? I couldn't tell but it made me cringe. For some reason, it made me uncomfortable. I couldn't fucking possibly be standing in the middle of a corridor and having a heart to heart with Krum at that. Totally out of my element, I did the only thing I knew best.
I turned around and started walking away, breaking out into a run as I turned the corner, away from Krum. Away from the dark thoughts that seemed to be chasing me. Hurriedly, I paced in front of the room of requirement and walked in, as the fire place came into life.
Walking straight towards the large cabinet which had appeared in the corner of the room, I bent down and opened the latch. The whole place shone as the pensieve came into view. Carefully, I picked it up and placed in on the coffee table in front of me.
This magical contraption had been my salvager through the most shit times. When the demons within me tried to overpower my senses, when the inked tattoo on my arm seemed to consume me, and my actions mocked my existence, this penseive had come to aid.
Feeling slightly dizzy by the tumultuous thoughts swirling through my brain, I brought my wand to my temples and pulled it slowly, feeling the frayed nerves slowly begin to calm down as the strand of memory came free. Pouring it into the penseive, I sighed as distorted shapes started forming at the surface.
Feeling slightly better, I almost fell onto the couch in relief. With a flick of my wand, the lights dimmed and closing my eyes, I waited for the figures that had risen from the penseive to play the course of the memory again.
"Hello Malfoy,"
Fucking hell.
Not her again, I groaned loudly as Myrtle's whining voice echoed through the entire bathroom. It had been a bad day already and I wasn't about to let Myrtle add to the mess. But I couldn't really do much, she was already dead.
And annoying. Gods, so damn annoying.
"You've been crying again?" she exclaimed, happily. I lifted my face up from where I'd been bent over the sinks trying to control my quivering body and glared in her general direction.
"Fuck off Myrtle." I gritted through my teeth.
"Oooohh! What happened? Did Harry Potter beat you in Quidditch again?" she asked, giggling.
I ignored her and instead focused on trying to get my breathing to calm down. I'd been unsuccessful yet again. It had taken quite a lot of energy and balls to get Katie Bell that damned necklace but the stupid nosey bint had gone and opened it instead of taking it to Dumbledore like she was supposed to.
Stupid Gryffindors and their curiosity.
Potter had been on my case too. With everything going on, it was hard work to shake him off my trail and Crabbe and Goyle were proving to be as thick and non-cooperative as they could ever be.
I felt sick. Not just because of the lack of sleep I'd been forced to endure lately, but the feeling of being on edge all the time, working on that darned cabinet which was proving to be very difficult to fix, and the mark.
Quickly glancing around to check for Myrtle who seemed to be busy sloshing water out of the middle cubicle, I rolled up the sleeve of my left arm to reveal the Dark Mark branded into my skin.
The gruesome tattoo resting on my arm seemed to glow in the dim light of the bathroom chamber. The blank ink was a stark contrast to the ghostly pale skin of my arm. As I watched, fascinated yet mortified, the skull's mouth opened and the snake slithered out of it, curling on itself. This was as a sign, a warning which I'd been a witness to more than I would like to admit. And that alone, scared the fuck out of me.
The Dark Lord was growing restless. He kept giving me chances, and I kept failing him. I could tell how much it was costing my mother to keep begging for yet another chance. It confused me to think the Dark Lord had pardoned me time and time again when I knew it didn't happen every day. This fact made the weight of my task weigh down on me more and more and I was afraid it would crush me soon. At this point, I wouldn't hesitate to admit how fucking scared I was. I would probably scream it from the top of the Astronomy Tower if it would help me. And that was saying something.
I had barely escaped the crowded Entrance Hall as Katie Bell had been escorted to the Hospital Wing followed by a herd of panicked Gryffindors. Her lifeless, stunned face will surely haunt my dreams. Sighing, I willed my brain to stop over working before it exploded and left the bathroom.
A/N : New update, did you like it?
Here's a little competition I've thought of ; I know most of you would be familiar with the concept of fan art. I would like you, my little nuggets to make me fan art for this story. And the best of you will get to be in my next story. As a character! How's that? If you're interested, PM me for details!
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