5 | Second Chances
Draco Malfoy spent his first night of bitter liberty in the bitter comforts of his bed, eyes aching to sleep and his thoughts restless.
It was unbearable for him. He slept during the first hour, but then after, he would feel this familiar sense of freefalling, then he would wake up milliseconds before a terrible, encompassing darkness engulfs his body, together with his consciousness. He fell asleep five minutes later, only to find himself waking up from a murky nightmare, a blur of a thousand familiar faces, lifeless and unseeing; a few snippets of scenes too chaotic, then just a moment of agonizing silence. The nightmare didn't make any sense at all, but the despondence and distraught that it made him feel was just too much.
Even if it was in the middle of September, and the weather was already cold in England, he still felt hot. Beads of sweat rivulets from his hairline down to his temples. His breathing was ragged, as if he had just run a marathon or climbed the Mount Everest. His eyes were wide from confusion. With his exhaustion, he couldn't differentiate whether he was really awake or if everything was just in a dream.
He looked around his dark room just to see if the unidentifiable beasts in his nightmare were actually real, just hiding away in the corners, waiting for him to actually doze off before they could lash out their claws at him and guzzle down his soul. It was a morbid thought, but in actuality, he found himself thinking that he deserved a punishment more morbid than just a simple house arrest. He even expected to be in Azkaban with his parents, enclosed in a cell, paying for his faults his whole life.
That last thought about his parents was just the last straw for him. He finally gave up on sleeping. He spent the rest of the night staring at the high ceiling, finding himself flinch at just the slightest of sounds outside, even if it was only a gust of wind. He found himself smile wanly at the thought.
How ironic, he thought. A beast, afraid of a little gust of wind.
Despite all thoughts he had in his mind, he just wasn't about to cry or to lash out his frustration. He wasn't trusting enough to show his true emotions even when he is inside the four walls of his room. Now, even walls can't be trusted. They could have eyes, or ears.
He was a man of masked emotions. His parents taught him how to put up a façade all his life; how to make his expressions unreadable, his thoughts obscured by his bland face, so that people wouldn't be able to point out his strengths and weaknesses. They taught him how to maintain his composure, to constantly keep his emotions in check.
"Mind over emotion, boy." Lucius would always say. The tone in his voice made him chill to the bones, but that advice, no matter how it was relayed to him, had always stuck in his mind like a constant mantra. He wouldn't show his vulnerability to anyone. He'd hide it away with a few intimidating retorts and a smirk. He couldn't afford to show his true self to anyone, not even his friends.
It's not like I have any friends left, he thought to himself.
Just thinking about his friends stung for him. It was bad enough to think that maybe he wouldn't be able to talk to them anymore. The last time he had contact with them, or with any Slytherin for that matter, was during the Battle. Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise and perhaps, Pansy. He suddenly felt a hollow feeling inside of him--an atrocious thought, an epiphany--that maybe, he didn't really have any friends in the first place. Maybe they truly valued him as someone that resembles a friend, but he just wasn't good in being the sort of person who is kind to everybody, wherefore they only succumb to his favours. Even if they strongly oppose it.
He just stared and stared and stared at nothingness.
He lost track of time with just staring. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so tired of not doing anything at all. He didn't even bother looking at the time. Didn't even bother wondering how he'd cook breakfast. Didn't even bother scolding himself for not having the ability to cook. He didn't even care at all. He could just lay still forever; starve himself to death--a slow and painful demise, a demise he very much deserved after all he had done. He then found himself getting angry at Potter again because of the fact that he actually stood up for him during the interrogation in the Ministry. How could he still have the heart to pardon him, his lifelong rival, the person who had called him names all their lives? He didn't ask for that. He was already prepared to go to Azkaban. He certainly didn't deserve a second try.
There was a moment though, just a moment, when Potter had stood up and went to the center of the court for testimony, when he felt a tiny amount of hope kindle inside of him. Draco didn't know what that was about. The thought of actually getting a second chance seemed bittersweet to him now.
Daylight had already been peeking through the only window in his doom for a time now. But even so, the sky still looked grey and bleak.
Good, Draco thought once again. Even the sky is mocking me.
12:48 pm. That was time when he finally had the energy to at least lift his head from his pillow to look at the clock. He stared at the ceiling again for five more minutes, listening to the annoying sound of the ticks and the tocks, before he practically managed to drag himself to take a shower.
It was a long, agonizing walk to the bathroom.
There was a huge mirror on top of the sink, but he couldn't bring himself to look at his guilty reflection. "Get it over and done with, Malfoy!" He scolded himself. He rubbed his skin with soap furiously, as if it could strip his conscience clean, and rinsed himself with cold water for a long time, not really thinking about anything.
It had been 1:32 pm when he finally had the temerity to go out of his room again. Dimitri, the ministry guard who had been following him around yesterday, had been relieved of his duty after Hermione had set up the monitoring wards. There were only two guards left situated at the gate of the Manor to meticulously check the people who would go in and out.
Draco's stomach rumbled. As much as he wanted to starve himself, the very least thing he could do to make his second chance at life worthwhile, was to teach himself how to cook.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ronald,
You need to stop giving me paper airplanes when you could just come to my office and talk about whatever it is you needed to talk about. You could use a little exercise walk. Oh and by the way, you could've told me about whatever it is during lunch break since I clearly have a lot on my hands as of the moment!
Sincerely,
Hermione
Hermione sighed tiredly when she had let the paper airplane fly. She wasn't lying--she really had a lot on her hands right now; evidences retrieved from sites needed to be organized, scrutinized, and labelled; wards needed to be put up in various places; papers needed to be reviewed for approval...she clearly had no time playing pen pals with Ron.
"Aaand another stack for you, miss!" A man told her, setting down a stack of files on top of her desk. Hermione only plastered a smile at him, an MLE trainee who had just recently graduated from Hogwarts last year. She didn't remember his name unfortunately.
"Thank you." She managed to say. It took her a lot to prevent herself from groaning in exasperation from the added work put on her because she wanted to set an example for all the MLE trainees she was assigned to help out. It was part of her job.
"Oh and, Ms. Granger," the trainee told her before he turned to leave. "I was indirectly informed by the Minister that he wanted you to check up on Malfoy Manor today. He said that it should be at the top of your priorities since the Malfoys have been the first set of Death Eaters captured in three years. He said that you should not only do it for the weekly progress reports, but also for us to get a lead as to where the other Death Eaters went into hiding. Make sure to bring an auror with you."
Hermione's faux optimism sank once again. She had been trying to get the Malfoys out of her mind for the past day, but now she had to go back to the Manor. "Of course." She said. "Thank you, um--"
"Walter." Said Walter.
"Yeah, of course. Thank you, Walter." She finished. He then nodded in acknowledgement as he turned around to walk to a new destination.
When he had reminded her to bring an auror, Hermione immediately thought of Harry. As much as she loved Ron--as a friend of hers--his unfiltered temper might just make things worse with Malfoy. She didn't want his sudden outburst to be a trigger to Malfoy's wrath.
She sorted the stack of files first into the drawers behind her desk. The files given to her were a series of evidences that was expected of her to interconnect to be able to solve and help with the capture of dark wizards. Of all the sub-departments in the MLE, the Investigation department really struck her the most. It was perfect for her. Her wits and her logical reasoning were constantly put into use, and the best thing about it was thatshe often got to work with Harry and Ron since the Aurors and Investigation departments work hand in hand.
In her first two months of working, she was given a position in the Wizengamot Administrations Office. She gladly accepted it, but it bored her to death. She would just spend the whole duration of the day organizing the schedule of hearings and the usage of the court rooms. It was a whole tedious routine, and it didn't excite her. She worried that her brain cells wouldn't be used as much like in school. So she provided her reasons to the head of Wizengamot, provided a Request Form for Department Transfer, got an interview that only lasted for seven minutes (they had a vacant position then and was in desperate need of someone to fill in.)
"Yeah so I was always at the top of the class. I took up Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts and--"
"Great!" Said the interviewer. "You start working tomorrow."
She remembered being dumbstruck because of the fact that she got the job with only minimal effort. "I-I'm hired?" She clarified.
"Yes, Ms. Granger. I have seen your resume and you are by far one of the most adept and brilliant witches in school. I sure hope that you would be as equally adept as you work for the MLE. Also, your connections with people are surely to be of big help. Now, I really need to head back to the office. I will see you tomorrow."
She still couldn't believe it. "Oh! Alright, thank you so much for the opportunity." She stood up as well and shook the hand of the interviewer.
She enjoyed her profession much, much more. She felt at ease. She was in her comfort zone, and the feeling of being able to solve the mysteries and the whereabouts of dark wizards gave her a sense of purpose. Maybe it's because of the years she had spent in school, with Harry and Ron; with Dumbledore's Army. It had been a part of her and she couldn't just easily let it go. She didn't want a world where her child and the future generations would experience the same things they had experienced.
There will always be antagonists. That was a given. But she took it to heart to do her best to subdue them, to prevent people from taking interest of the dark side to achieve there own personal reasons. She can't just go and walk the face of this earth knowing that dangers lurk in the shadows every day.
That was all she had thought of ever since yesterday. Her short exchange of words with Malfoy had been really unpleasant, but it had also been an eye opener. She saw something in his eyes that was begging to be noticed. He needed help. He had been given a second chance, yet he still didn't know how to make use of it.
Nobody is too far gone, she thought.
She walked out of the two-door entrance of the Investigations department and turned to her right. She strode the whole black-tiled corridor of the Ministry that led to the lifts. She and Harry and Ron have all of their offices in Level Two, since both of their departments are under MLE, but the corridors that led to their own sub-departments were on opposite sides of the lifts, so she always had to push through the throngs of preoccupied people going in and out of the lifts.
She only looked straight on. She didn't want to make eye contact with anybody she knows and would make small talk. She didn't have time for that. She has a destination.
There was a huge brass plate etched with the words "Auror Department" that was placed on top of the wide oak doors, the entrance to the office. The ministry guard nodded his head to her as she held up her ID, even though she was certainly sure that he knows her, for she often finds herself visiting this office.
"Thank you." She said as he held the door open for her.
The department was basically a gargantuan space lined with cubicles that serves as dividers for each of the Auror's desk. The cubicles were clad with post-its, pictures of notorious criminals, or newspaper pages that contained information that might be deemed valuable for their search. The whole place looked particularly unorganized, but the way in which the Aurors held themselves--alert eyes, strides consistently rushing, fingers that couldn't be still, it was one of the reasons in which Hermione had always revered them. They were dedicated.
Harry was not in his office. [But it was technically just a cubicle.]
"Where is he?" She asked herself.
She was about to ask someone if they knew where he was until she heard a familiar voice four cubicles away.
"What do you mean he burned himself?"
"I-I don't know, sir. I was just guarding at the entrance door and then I heard him scream inside and--"
"How bad is it?" It was Harry's voice. Hermione knew it. The man she had been talking to was one of the ministry guards assigned to guard the Malfoy Manor. Harry had his brows furrowed as he looked at the man--Schneider was his last name (Hermione had seen it before while she looked at his uniform)--and Ron was nowhere to be found.
"Most of his right arm, sir."
Harry groaned at this information. He started running out of the office, pushing people out of the way and muttering "Excuse me!" from time to time.
"Harry, wait!" Hermione shouted. The ministry guard was following suite. "HARRY!" She shouted once more, causing other Aurors to look at her.
"Hermione, I can't do this right now!" He shouted over his shoulder. She managed to catch up to him.
"Did I hear him right? Malfoy burned himself?" She asked as she struggled to keep up with his pace.
"Apparently!" They had to shout at each other to fight the cacophony made by talking people and their scuttling steps. "We have to go to the Atrium. That is the only place where we can Apparate. The Manor's Floo Network is--"
"Closed off, I know." She finished his sentence. "Apparate just outside of the gates. You go run while I call St. Mungo's to send them a healer there." Harry nodded. He knew she was right. Owl mails were awfully long to deliver, so sometimes she had to carry a Muggle phone with her, even if it's highly discouraged in the Ministry. St. Mungo's weren't that strict, of course. They have a personal hotline that only wizards knew about.
They ran to the lift. They arrived just in time before it closed.
"Level Eight, The Atrium." A voice from the lift said.
The place, of course, was even more crowded and noisy than the other floors. Hermione and Harry took hold of each other's hands and Apparated. Harry automatically ran for it, holding up his wand for the remaining ministry guard to see, while she fished her Muggle phone from her bag.
"This is St. Mungo's Hospital. How may we help you?" A voice from the other line said.
"Yes, hello." Hermione said. "Can you please send a healer here to the Malfoy Manor. The patient accidentally burned himself. And please hurry! Thank you."
"Did I hear you right, ma'am? M-Malfoy Manor?" The nurse's voice slightly quivered at the mention of the place.
"Yes, and I know that it might be a rather frightening place to be, but people from the Ministry are here, so the healers would be safe while they tend to the patient. I'm Hermione Granger and Harry Potter is inside. The patient is of top priority right now. This is a special case." She elaborated. She didn't want to scare away the nurse.
"Y-yes, ma'am. We will send healers right away." The line ended before she could even have the chance to say thank you.
Their concern wasn't really because they cared for Malfoy's sake. A lot would be at stake if he dies from this burn: a.) It would be a bad image for them since this is just the first day of his house arrest and what, he dies? b.) They won't get to be able to know the information that Malfoy has about the whereabouts of the other Death Eaters, and c.) He hadn't used his second chance yet.
So with these three reasons in mind, Hermione ran for the doors.
Author's Note:
Okay, so the last time I had uploaded a chapter was in July. And I am really sorry! I will certainly post the next chapter maybe this weekend. I am truly in love with this ship and with the series that I just wouldn't let this go. Let me know what you think!
Solemnly swear that you're up to no good?
-Ally